"Hm. Not a one." Spitfire was scowling, though only a little. "Odd."

Sunset smirked across her bar at her co-worker. "Spitfire, girl, love you and all, but odd is a thing you do a lot. Be more specific?" She slid over a glass in her glowing magic. "Got your favorite."

"Thanks." Spitfire lifted it at the end of her hoof and downed it so quickly, it could be wondered if she actually tasted it. "There's usually a warmup, a pre-show, if you would. I'm not seeing it. No pre-show, no show. No show, no new mares."

Sunset angled an ear. "Well, there's plenty of us as is." Her eyes darted to the other workers on the floor, busy making the casino a success. "Maybe enough?" She broke away as a customer approached. "Hey! Sandy! Your usual?" She got to preparing a drink just the way that pony liked it, making small talk and angling for the big tip she enjoyed getting.

Spitfire watched Sunset work, seemingly patient enough. As soon as Sandy left, she leaned in. "The timing."

"The timing?" Sunset hiked a brow. "What's timed with what?"

"We got our payscale adjustment." Spitfire raised a hoof. "And the pre-shows stopped." She raised the other hoof. "Coincidence? Doubt it. The brothers are a lot of things, but random isn't one of them. They do things for a reason. Sometimes bad reasons, but always a reason."

"Usually." Sunset polished a glass. Cleaning tended to draw customers. Why? Who knew, but a bartender looking casually busy seemed to do the trick just fine, so she kept that right up. "You singing today, or working on the floor?"

Spitfire quirked an ear, quiet a moment. "Know what? Good idea. I can distract myself a little with a good number, and ponies like it." She fell to all fours, wings giving one strong flap. "Wish me luck."

"Break a leg. You have spares." Sunset smirked at her joke, one the other shattered mares seemed to get.

The door shut silently behind her. "Octavia, ma précieuse fleur. I have a need most desperate. Apologies for placing this on you."

Octavia had been laying on her belly, but sat up the moment the mess that was Fleur entered the room. "Tell me what happened," she ordered firmly. "Apologies can wait."

"Oui, yes…" Fleur slumped back against the door she had just closed, thumping it with her back. Her constricted eyes closed almost reluctantly. "Nothing is making sense, mon ami. I have two names. They both feel familiar to me, aussi familier que ma propre peau." She brought down a hoof. "Like my own skin," she repeated in proper Ponish. "And both are just as alien, at the same time! Mon ami, it is like I am coming apart, désassemblage."

Octavia slipped from her bed to settle herself instead on her haunches beside the trembling Fleur. "Deep breaths. You're not alone. I went through this bef--"

"What is your name?" Fleur suddenly attacked, hooves on Octavia's shoulders. "Tell me who I am speaking to."

Octavia began to frown at Fleur. "Remove your hooves from me," she demanded in an icy tone. "You get one warning."

Fleur's hooves did move, reluctantly. She set them back on the floor, her trembling only growing worse. "Will you not tell me then?"

"That is my decision alone, and it will be contrary to what you want if you attack me." Octavia rose, striding away calmly. "Since you obviously know both of yours, why don't we start there?" She turned smoothly back to Fleur. "Who am I speaking to?"

Fleur swallowed her tongue that had grown far too large for her mouth. "Mon ami… It hurts to say."

"But speak it you must, if you wish to have any slim chance to hear mine." She inclined her head. "Or do you think only you suffer? Mon ami," she said the Prench almost tauntingly, a dash of mockery. "Just because you are the latest to shatter does not mean you are the one with the deepest cuts. Now, who do I have the pleasure of addressing?"

Fleur sagged limply to her belly. She was larger than Octavia, but she felt as if she were but a foal at the hooves of the stern mare. "I have two names." Not this was unknown. "One you know, Fleur de Lis, wife of Fancy Pants. The other." She paused for a fresh swallow. "The other is Eric. I work at a helpful desk? For a sizable company of other ponies. Were they ponies? I had fingers, and used them, a lot."

Octavia began to smile gently. "A helpful desk? There's an interesting term for it. I believe you are searching for 'help desk'."

"Help desk! Oui!" Fleur nodded, which didn't work so well with her head being flopped on the ground. "That is it. A help desk. I would be called, and answer letters. Was I a secretary? It is confusing."

"That is you," spoke Octavia firmly. "That is just as much you as the unicorn in front of me."

Fleur sat up at that declaration, blinking open her eyes. "Whatever do you mean? I do not have fingers." She raised a hoof as if to demonstrate this fact. "I do now own a thing to… type?"

"A keyboard," offered Octavia. "You don't, but you did. That was and is you. You are Eric. You are Fleur. You are both of those things." She turned a hoof on herself. "I am Octavia. I am also Jean. I am a human, and an earth pony. Because I remember, Jean still lives, because I am Jean." She pointed at Fleur sharply. "Will Eric live?"

Fleur's ears danced haphazardly. "It is a choice?"

"Of course it is." Octavia rolled her eyes at the idea. "You wouldn't be the first shattered mare to see their past and run from it, screaming. Some of them drop their old selves. Some of them fumble and drop both selves, going quite batty in the process." She angled her head towards the exit. "You remember Applejack? She has a past self, but doesn't remember it. So it's dead. It shows no sign of life. We won't tap the glass." She rapped a hoof against an unseen pane in the air. "It isn't a bad life, just being a pony. Having a human joining the company? That makes things complicated." She turned her hoof back on herself. "I made my decision."

Fleur leaned in towards the seemingly knowledgeable pony before her. "Has any dropped their, as you say, new self?"

"Once." Octavia inclined her head. "They were thrown out of the casino really quickly. The brothers have no use for a human wearing a pony suit. I am not that. I am Octavia. I am Jean. I am both of those things, not one pretending to be the other."

Fleur blinked softly, but her eyes were focused. Her agitation was ebbing a bit. Understanding, a hint of it. "I… I see…" She licked over her lips. "If it is as you say, I can only imagine, we do not… speak of this, to the brothers."

"Smart pony." Octavia nodded in a faint motion. "We don't whisper a word of this. They don't need to know. To be perfectly honest, not sure they want to know. They just want us to do our job. What happens in our head--" She tapped at her own. "--That's our problem."

"Eric." Fleur moved to the mirror that sat on the wall of their room, gazing on herself. "Hello, Eric. Hello, Fleur. Can you two get along?"

"They better, since they are both you." Octavia watched the back of Fleur as she gazed on herself. "Is that your decision then?"

"Oui, I think… To decide the other, I would be, as they say… meurtrière. I will not be that. I do not think Eric would approve either. We agree that killing is wrong. You have given me a choice, and I am grateful, mon ami. I will not kill. To take the other option… That would be to lose myself. Suicide? I am not a miserable pony, mon ami. I like myself. I will learn the new self." She looked over her shoulder at Octavia. "Will you still be friends with me?"

"Some have made that choice, to shut out the second, I mean. Applejack may have done that, we can't tell. She probably just never shattered, but if a mare does shatter, but seems to slide back to beforehoof…" Octavia danced a hoof through the air. "That means she shut it down. She killed that other self. Never saw a mare shatter twice, so far. If they slip back to that, it's likely a done deal. They made their choice."

Fleur shuffled awkwardly for a moment. "You did not answer me. Will we still be friends? Will you accept this new part of me?"

"I need to meet them," calmly retorted Octavia. "You already met Jean. I am both. You've been speaking to Jean and Octavia all this time. We get along fine enough. He wanted to get into music, which I already am, so we're both pleased enough when I perform. He, and I, are clever and smart ponies. We don't get to practice that too much here, at the casino, but it's still a part of me."

Before Fleur could speak, Octavia inserted a hoof right into Fleur's mouth. "First, you need to meet Eric. You decided to keep him around, grand. Marvelous even, but you don't know him yet. You need to help him wake up. He's been sleeping, deep inside you, fitfully stirring as you remembered snatches and pieces. He's starting to rouse now. You've put the pillow away, so smothering him is set aside as an option. So, instead, time to offer a hoof, and learn who you're sharing space with."

The idea struck Fleur silent for a still moment. "Je vois… I see… How?"

Octavia went to the door of their room, throwing it open. "You know how they close off a room on Wednesdays, around eight at night?" She was pointing at the specific room in question. "There's a group class. Call it group therapy if you like."

Fleur poked her snoot out over Octavia, at the directed door. "Is that what they were doing in there? I thought it some manner of customer thing." She drew her head back. "Incroyable… This was all happening around me, without noticing? I feel daft now."

Octavia perhaps enjoyed Fleur's amazement more than what was technically required. "If it helps, I was there before. I wasn't the first shattered mare, and you probably won't be the last. So…" She rolled a hoof slowly. "If you happen on one, you can pass it on."

"Oui!" she sang, a gentle smile spreading on her face. "The isolation was the worst part. If I can help a pony not feel that, I would, gladly. But first… I must find myself." She tapped at her own chest. "Hello in there, Eric. I am Fleur and I am glad to meet you, hm? Are you as happy to meet me?"

Octavia kicked the door shut, no heads or other limbs in the way of it. "You get a point for the effort, but it's a slower, quieter, process than shouting at yourself. If it helps, most of our 'firsts' are, in fact, happy to meet us. Many of them are happy to be us. I think, if they weren't, most just don't end up here. Don't ask for proof, I haven't any to offer."

Fleur's stance became more relaxed. "That… makes me happy, mon ami. That Eric, who is me, also wants to be me, who is Fleur. We will meet, hoof to heart." She placed a hoof over the soft thumping she could feel. "We will both find our happiness, oui?"

"We can hope so." Octavia stepped up onto her bed and settled on it. "You look much better. Now, if you don't want to get chewed out, you'll get back out there and finish your shift. Wednesday."

"Wednesday," repeated Fleur with a firm nod. "I am so very looking forward to it." She left, certainty returning to her steps. She had a plan, and a way forward.

Author's Note

The plot thickens and progresses forward. Our mares are facing the largest typo of their fuzzy lives. What would you do?

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