Leave Out All The Rest

by mellon collie

Rating: teen
Tags: Fleur de Lis, Death, Sad, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Fancypants
Length: 1179

as fancy pants lay on his deathbed, he and his wife have one final conversation.

as fancy pants lay on his deathbed, he and his wife have one final conversation.

this story is dedicated to scott hall. rest in peace, bad guy.
1958-2022

Published 2022-03-15 09:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2022-03-15 09:00:00 UTC

when you're feeling empty, keep me in your memory

The monochromatic white of the hospital room made it feel so incredibly empty. Everything was so sterile and lifeless. The bed Fancy Pants lay in was like a desolate island in a sea of nothing but blankness, left forgotten and alone to eventually sink.

His gaze fell to the window, the land outside being the only source of color left. Light rays of sunlight streamed in, providing warmth that his blanket could not. The sun seemed to watch him from afar, comforting him in a way. The day outside was bright, the blue sky unobscured by the lack of clouds as its wide expanse became truly apparent. A group of birds sang in perfect harmony, their lovely tune filling his ears from just outside. Two pegasi chased eachother through the air, their giggles loud and joyful.

Fancy had always enjoyed sunny days, ever since he was a colt.

A constant beeping sound filled the room every few seconds. As quiet as they were, every one felt like a pounding against his head, each heavier than the last. He didn't know how many more he could take before he-

"Honey?"

He looked over to his wife.

"Fleur.. I'm going to be honest with you."

Fleur de Lis sighed, her eyes shifting to the floor. An icy feeling clawed at her heart as she waited for words she didn't want to hear.

"I don't think I have much time left."

"Please, don't talk like that. It can't be."

"It would just be delaying the inevitable." He coughed, tiny flecks of blood splattering against his thin hoof.

"I know, but I.. I don't know if I'm ready to lose you."

Nothing was said for a few moments.

"I've had so much time to prepare for this, but now that I'm actually here, I feel so overwhelmed," she continued. "I just want a few more moments with you."

"I get that, but it's almost time." He shifted slightly. "I," he hesitated, "I don't think that I'm scared."

That gave Fleur pause. "What do you mean?"

"I know that it's coming, I know that these breaths are going to be some of my last. I'm supposed to be terrified of it, or in pain, but I'm not." He let out a heaving cough. "I just feel like I'm at peace."

Fleur's hoof tightened slightly around Fancy's.

"I lived a good life," he went on. "I got to be a successful businessman, all my wildest dreams coming to fruition. I had a wonderful wife, who made life worth living up until the final moments. I'd rather go out now than to wait and suffer more." A sad smile crossed his face. "I want it to be on my own terms. I don't want you to watch me decay any further."

Fleur wiped her eyes, trying and failing to dry them of the tears that threatened to fall. As she gazed at him, the frail stallion that was having trouble breathing, her heart sunk into her stomach.

He stared ahead, a distant look in his eyes. The room was beginning to morph, twisting into his mansion. Faint traces of azure began to overtake the white of the walls. The beeping was replaced with the hum of hoofsteps in the distance. He felt his body sink into his own bed, the one he used to sleep in, one much more comfortable than the bed he was previously in.

"Fancy."

His wife's voice cut through the fog, bringing her into the fantasy he'd fallen into. She sat by his bedside, rubbing small circles against his pastern in an attempt to comfort him.

"Can you keep talking? I want to hear your voice one last time," she begged.

"Of course, dear." He found the strength to nod, though it ended up sending a seering pain through his skull. "I'm proud of the life I had, you know."

"Yeah? You are?"

"Absolutely. I did all that I set out to do, and I'm leaving it surrounded by the ponies I love." His eyes flickered to his parents, who watched over him with warm smiles on their faces.

Fleur's expression flashed a frown, though her own smile returned after a moment.

"Yes, I do have my regrets, everypony does, but I don't want you to focus on that. What I want you to remember is the noble stallion who helped others when he could, and not the stallion rendered motionless in a hospital bed for weeks." His voice slowly faded as he spoke, ending in a raspy whisper.

"I will, dear. I'll never forget you. No matter what." Fleur's eyes watered, tears soon finding their way down her cheeks. She embraced him one last time, holding as tightly as she could.

Fancy simply nuzzled her, even if the motion hurt him.

"I love you, Fancy," she whispered, placing a kiss on his cheek.

"I love you too, Fleur." His voice was nearly unintelligible below the beeping and the buzz of the world that lay just outside his reach.

Her demeanor shifted, like a switch had been flipped in her head. Her expression fell as a single sob escaped her. She looked down to the floor. Fancy tried to follow, but his head was hurting much too bad to move now.

Her hoof tapped against something, though what it was he couldn't see.

His butler entered the room a few moments later. He held an expression of professional vacancy, but Fleur could see beneath the cracks. The quivering lips, the slight shaking of his hooves as he moved. Though he had done this before, he still wasn't used to it. It made her feel solace, somehow, that she wasn't the only one overcome with emotion.

"Everybody's time comes eventually," Fancy spoke. His voice was broken, coming out labored and muted. It was a shadow of its former self. "I'll see you again, my love," he rasped.

He got out of the bed, pushing the bed sheets aside. He nodded to his butler before giving his wife a hug. "Soon, it will be," he told her. She just silently hugged him back, her tears falling to the floor.

He gave her a kiss on the forehead before letting go of her and exiting the room. As he walked through the halls and down the stairs his eyes lingered on every glossy photograph. How in each one, he and his wife were always smiling. Even as he got noticeably slimmer, their expressions remained the same; filled with love, for the world and for eachother.

He placed his hoof against a photo. It was the final one, and it rested slightly crooked. He adjusted the frame until it properly sat straight, just like the rest.

He looked around the house, acknowledging every familiar detail of it and remembering every memory that had been formed inside if it. A feeling of warmth spread through his chest. Everything was perfect.

When death knocked on his door, he opened it with a smile.

Author's Note