Lyra hadn’t bothered to turn on the light. She hadn’t bothered to do much more than get herself a cup of tea. Sure, it was past midnight. One AM, if the clock on the kitchen wall was correct. She was pretty sure it was; she’d been counting the seconds herself.
Each second. Each tick of the clock. She remembered clock shopping with... with her wife. Wondering why somepony would care about the difference between a normal clock and one with silent movement. Each second intruded on the silence with a mechanical click. Since she’d sat down at the kitchen table, she’d counted fifteen thousand, two hundred and twenty seconds. She’d stopped counting after that.
At least when she’d been counting she could pretend she wasn’t wondering. Worrying. Four times. That she knew of. The other three, Lyra had acted like nothing was wrong.
There was a tiny spill of tea on the table, and she played with it with the tip of her hoof. She dragged the liquid across the stained wood, idly making designs in the silvery moonlight that slipped through the curtains until she realized what she’d been subconsciously drawing.
A hard candy. Wrapped, with the two ends of the wrapper splayed out on either end like a bow. With a wordless cry of anger, she dashed the spilled tea with her hoof, scattering drops across the table.
It broke the floodgates. She kept screaming, slamming her hoof down on the teacup. It shattered into a thousand pieces, jagged, razor sharp china embedding into her hoof and sending a splash of blood across the table. It was the first of the set they’d broken. The set they’d registered for, back when…
...in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live…
She ignored the blood seeping down her hoof and screamed again, sweeping the broken shards onto the floor. She stood quickly enough to knock the chair down. The table came next; she wasn’t calm enough to use her magic, so she simply flipped it onto its side with her hooves. Next came the chair. Her favorite chair. The one she drank her coffee in. The one she read her newspaper in. The one she was always sitting in when Lyra came down the stairs into the kitchen, yawning widely, and wondering just how her wife could possibly be such a morning pony.
The chair clattered to the floor, and one of the legs broke when it slammed against the cupboard. Lyra panted, suddenly silent. She could hear the ticking clock. The plink-plink of blood hitting the linoleum floor. The gasping breaths dragging their way out of her throat.
“...Lyra?”
She nearly cried out. Nearly spun and laughed for joy. Nearly darted into her wife’s hooves. Nearly let Bon Bon’s warm embrace wash away the anger. The hurt. Nearly let her relieved tears sweep away the bitter rage that rose in her gullet. Instead she froze.
“Lyra, what…” Lyra heard hooves clopping against the hard floor, and Bon Bon gasped loudly. “Lyra, you’ve hurt yourself! What happened, why did…”
“It’s one in the morning, Bon Bon,” Lyra whispered. Her voice cut through her louder wife, and Bon froze.
“Y-yes, it is. I’m really sorry, Lyra. It was a really busy day at work, and I had to…”
“Please stop.” Tears were flowing freely now, droplets hitting the floor next to the blood. “I can’t hear this.”
“Lyra, you’re being silly. Let me take care of your hoof, you hurt yourself.” Bon Bon’s voice was soft, gentle. Lyra didn’t move as her wife walked over to the sink. The sound of the water running drowned out the clock, the blood drips, the tears. Not Lyra’s thoughts, though. No, those kept shouting at her. But she looked at the dark floor, refusing to look in Bon’s face as she walked back over. “Tell me what happened.”
“You never came home. You never left a note. You weren’t at the shop,” Lyra began. She saw Bon Bon flinch, but she softly picked up Lyra’s hoof anyways, and began to gently wipe at the blood with a wet towel.
“Lyra, you know…”
“I know what that means. I came back to check. Your ‘go bag’ was gone. Yes, I know where you hide it.” She choked back a sob. She wanted to just lose herself in her wife’s gentle ministrations. The warm water stung her open wounds, but it would be something else to think about. She forced herself to ignore how nice it felt to have Bon stroking and cleaning her hoof like this.
“Lyra, please…”
“So I decided not to wait. I trust you, of course.” Bon Bon flinched as if Lyra had hit her. But you don’t trust me. The implication was obvious. “When you missed dinner, and the casserole I’d cooked had gotten cold, I galloped over to Princess Twilight’s castle. Maybe she’d know where you were. What kind of mission you were on.”
“Lyra, you know I can’t…”
“Princess Twilight had no idea, of course. It took a bit of coaxing, but she finally admitted that she had nothing to do with the covert ops branch of the Equestrian military.” Lyra snorted. “She doesn’t even get briefings. You know she’s going to bug Luna, now? So that she can be in the loop?”
“That’s good. Look, I…”
“I came home, thinking maybe you’d be here while I’d been out. Now it was about eight. I didn’t head straight home, though. See, calling on Twilight made me feel like the worst wife ever. What kind of terrible pony am I? I couldn’t even trust you for one day. So even though it was late, I stopped by the Flower Sister’s shop, to pick up something. An apology. A peace offering. I’m not sure. Your favorite, though. Purple tulips and baby’s breath.”
“Lyra, you didn’t have…”
“They’re gone. I… might have thrown them away an hour ago.” Lyra shook her head, her eyes looking up at the clock. It was funny how the sound never got quieter, but it seemed to fade into silence while they were talking. Once again, the mechanical clicks dominated the silence in the room.
Bon Bon had stopped cleaning her hoof, and was wrapping another towel around her hoof.
“It’s bad, Lyra. We’re going to want to…”
“So when I got home,” Lyra ignored her, pushing forward. If she stopped, she’d start sobbing, and that wouldn’t do. “And you weren’t here, I decided to take a shower. Did you know I hoped you’d come home while I was in the bathroom? I kinda fantasized about you sneaking in. You joining me, surprising me, sneaking up and kissing me on the neck that way you do sometimes?”
“Lyra, I’m s…”
“So I finished the shower and dried myself off, then came down here to wait. I made myself some tea but,” she laughed humorlessly. A gallows laugh. “You saw what happened to that teacup.”
“What do you want me to say, Lyra?” There was finally some heat in Bon Bon’s voice. “You knew what I was when we got married. What I have to do sometimes.”
“So this is my fault now?” Lyra hissed, and Bon Bon jerked away. In the moonlight, Lyra could see her eyes. Hurt. Guilty. Angry. Afraid. She couldn’t stop. “I don’t understand? I’m just some dumb civilian that doesn’t get how important your job is? Go on. Say it.”
“I’d rather not,” Bon Bon’s whispery voice slipped into the silence. Lyra stared at her. Two clicks. Bon Bon’s watery eyes darted to the sink. To the broken china on the floor. To Lyra’s wound. Five more ticks of the clock. She made a move to reach out and touch her wife, but Lyra jerked away. “I’d rather get you to the emergency room.”
Finally Lyra looked her over. She wasn’t the only one wearing a bandage; a white cloth was wrapped several times around Bon Bon’s barrel. Her eyes widened as she looked her wife up and down.
“What happened to you?” she asked despite herself. “And don’t you dare lie.”
Bon Bon’s eyes widened, and she glanced at the door again. She looked ready to panic, or maybe even bolt. Seven ticks.
“I’m not going to the emergency room until you tell me.”
“Okay. Okay, Lyra. I’ll… explain. But please, can we talk on the way? I’m worried about you.”
“Bon Bon, if I walk out of this house without the truth, I’m not coming through that door ever again.”
Bon Bon’s tears dripped to the floor, joining twenty seven more ticks of the clock in the silence that followed.
“A… hydra. They usually stay in swamps, but this one had wandered out and was rampaging around farms near Hollow Shades. The Royal Guard was in too deep; they’d sent a bunch of rookies, and those blasted featherbrains had chopped off the Celestia-damned thing’s heads. Five of them, before we got there.”
“A hydra?” Lyra’s brow furrowed. “But if you cut out their heads, then…”
“Yeah. They needed some specialists to clean up the mess they made. I… I got the call shortly after breakfast. The bandages are because I jinked left when I should have gone right, and the stupid thing clipped me with a claw. It’s nothing, and we took care of the monster.”
“So you fought a hydra.”
“Well, fought implies that there was actual…
Lyra stomped her hoof, ignoring the angry blast of pain that shot up her entire leg. “You were fighting a hydra. While I was at work. While I smiled and waved with friends. Ate lunch. Did some grocery shopping. Planned dinner. Then got to sit around for hours wondering if my WIFE WAS EVEN ALIVE!”
She didn’t care if the neighbors could hear. To Tartarus with Ponyville’s after-hours noise ordinance. They could call in the Elements to rainbow blast her for all she cared; she was going to yell at her wife.
“I didn’t know anything! I didn’t know where you were! What you were doing! When you were coming home! If you were coming home!”
She stomped her hoof again. It hurt more, and Bon Bon whimpered, glancing worriedly at her hoof.
“I. DIDN’T. KNOW.”
“What do you want me to do?” Bon Bon shrieked back desperately. It was surprising enough that Lyra blinked in shock. Bon Bon had never once raised her voice to Lyra. “Please! I’ll quit. No more secret missions. You won’t have to worry any more.”
“How many have there been?” Lyra whimpered, and Bon Bon looked away, out the window.
Thirteen clicks.
“Four. Four other times,” Bon Bon whispered. Lyra stared at her, and took a breath. A second.
“Okay. We can both go to the emergency room together.” She began to walk to the door, but turned when she realized Bon Bon was frozen.
“Just like that?”
“Just like that,” Lyra sighed. “You need a doctor.”
“So, you’re not going to l-l-l…”
“You didn’t lie.” Lyra said. She glanced over at the bulging saddlebags by the door. “I was ready to go, though.” Bon Bon looked at the bags and gasped. “If you lied. Told me you’d stopped. Or told some story about the candy store.”
“I’ll stop,” Bon Bon sobbed. “It’s not worth it. I can’t lose you.”
A good wife may have protested. Made a compromise. Shown her wife a little trust. Lyra looked at Bon Bon’s eyes, and saw her complete sincerity.
“I’ll take it,” Lyra whispered. “C’mon. We’ve got to get you checked out.” She should have felt more guilty about it. About demanding her wife give up her important work. Quit. Leave. Back out, just because she was too worried, too weak, too cowardly to accept that her wife was involved in such dangerous work. She’d worry about it later.
“Okay,” Bon Bon dashed at the tears in her eyes, and followed her wife into the moonlit night.
Author's Note
Now with a dramatic reading by the Rainbow Infinity channel on YouTube!
