Reinventing Trixie

It's 10:30 at night, and you and Trixie are sitting in front of the television together, unwinding after a long day of planning and reworking parts of the act. It's becoming clear now that the stage on Trixie's wagon is just not big enough to perform on anymore, and you've spent a large part of the day deciding what to do about it- Trixie can't really pull a wagon big enough to hold a much larger stage, but she feels that now that she has a permanent home, constructing a new portable stage- with modern human materials and machinery- without the wagon attached would be a much better way to go. You've agreed, but its construction will take some time; in the meantime, the two of you have rented that hall in San Mateo for a four-day performance next month.

But that's in the future. Right now, you and she are watching Past, Present, Pony together, and sharing a bowl of microwave popcorn. There's an intense storm outside, one of La Niña's little presents for the West Coast; you're thankful it's warm enough out for it to be rain and not snow. The downpour hammers against the roof, loudly enough to force you to turn up the television's volume to be able to hear the movie. Still, the sound is almost hypnotic enough to lull the both of you to sleep-

CRRRACKA-THOOOM

-and suddenly there's a bright flash of light outside, sparks flying everywhere, a thunderclap rattling the windows- and the entire house goes dark. No, strike that, the entire street goes dark; not a single bit of illumination can be seen. You can hear a car alarm or two sounding out further down the block, probably set off by the noise.

Your heart is going at what seems a thousand beats a minute, and Trixie is pressed up closely enough to you for you to feel that hers is the same. “Donovan, what in Celestia's name happened?!” she manages to squeak out.

“I think... a lightning bolt hit the transformer outside. Or close enough to overload it and make it explode. Can you shed a little light on things until I can find the emergency flashlights?”

“As soon as I can get my heart out of my throat, yes.” After a moment, her horn begins to glow with a bluish-white light, bright enough to see for a couple dozen feet; you go with her into the kitchen to find the emergency flashlights and battery-powered lantern you keep for just such emergencies. Once you've got the lantern on and set on a table near the middle of the living room, you take a moment to look out the window; it's difficult to tell through the rain, but your flashlight's beam reveals that the transformer on the pole across the street seems to be completely blown, and there's at least one wire down. Between that and the driving storm, you don't believe it's safe for Trixie to go out to her wagon, and you tell her so. “It seems I'm staying in here for the night then,” she says quietly.

“A sleepover! Too bad we can't make s'mores.” You chuckle softly as you make your way to the closet for the spare blanket and pillows... then pause a moment. You glance back at Trixie and see her still sitting on the couch, staring at the window; she seems not at all at ease. Being only a recent immigrant to Earth, she's probably not used to its seemingly random and sometimes-violent weather patterns. There's certainly been times you wished Sacramento had a pegasus weather team able to clear the skies on command. You hate the idea of her being by herself in this kind of a storm.

So why not stay with her?

You have no idea where the thought came from, but now that it's in your head, you can't get it out. What's more, you can't get yourself to form a rational counter-argument. You remember how, back in the hospital, she looked for a moment like she wanted to climb in bed with you to stay close to you. After a moment, you step away from the closet. “Trixie, I'll be back in a minute,” you tell her.

She just nods and makes some sort of quiet sound in reply. You head into your bedroom, quickly get changed into some light sweatpants and a sleeveless T-shirt, and pull your blanket and pillows off of your bed, then bring them back out into the living room; Trixie glances over her shoulder at your approach, and a look of confusion crosses her face. You manage a sheepish grin. “Well, I thought....” you begin, before indicating the storm with a tilt of your head.

Confusion changes to surprise, then to bemusement, then to a smile. “...I see,” she says. “I... wouldn't mind.”

She jumps down from the couch and lets you set up the pillows and blanket. Once you've laid down and gotten yourself comfortable on your side with your back pressed against the seatback, Trixie carefully hops up next to you and settles down, laying on her legs with her head against your chest, and you pull the blanket over both of you. “How's that?” you ask.

“...nice,” she murmurs, shifting a little to make herself more comfortable. “Donovan?”

“Mmm?”

“Thank you.” She leans up to nuzzle your shoulder, and then- to your surprise- she kisses your cheek before settling down.

You can't help but ask. “What for?”

“For being so open and welcoming. I have known many ponies who could learn something from you... my past self being one of them.”

You can't think of anything to say in reply, so you just gently put an arm around her and hug her gently against you. And there you lay together, quietly, as the rhythm of the rain and Trixie's warmth quickly lull you into a deep sleep that even the occasional roll of thunder can't interrupt.

In fact, the only thing that wakes you is the beeping of various electronics as they come back to life. You groggily open your eyes and glance around- the clock of your Blu-ray player is flashing 12:01, but there's sunlight outside, and the battery-powered clock on the wall shows that it's just past 7:30. The faint sound of heavy machinery outside adds credence to your theory: The electric company has replaced the transformer and gotten power back up.

You pull the blanket down a little to wake Trixie up and are surprised to see that she'd moved during the night- she's now pressed against you barrel-to-stomach, with one foreleg draped over your side. Her muzzle is nestled up against your chest, and she has a ghost of a smile decorating it. Your heart just sort of does a flip-flop over how peaceful and relaxed she looks.

Maybe she feels that flip-flop, or maybe the machinery outside disturbs her, but something brings her back to the waking world. Her magenta eyes slowly blink open, focus on you, then look down at how she's laying against you, and immediately she blushes bright crimson right through her coat. “Oh! I, um... err....”

You smile. “...I don't mind,” you tell her quietly.

She just lays there for a moment, gazing up at you, and you can actually feel her heart racing. Then she buries her face against your chest. “How do you keep doing this, Donovan?” she asks.

“Doing what?”

“Surprising me the way you do. Every time I think I've hit the limit of how understanding you could possibly be, there you go, surpassing the boundaries.”

“Yeah, well....” You try to come up with some metaphor, some silly turn of phrase to describe how you feel, but it doesn't seem quite right to do it. Instead, for once, you just speak from your heart. “...I care about you, Trixie.”

She's hugging you, now, apparently as tightly as she can. You never knew those forelegs were so strong. “I care about you too, Donovan,” she says into your chest.

“...do you care about my ribcage, too?” you manage to grunt out.

“Wha... oh!” She lets out a soft laugh as she releases you. “Sorry. I got caught up in the moment.”

You ruffle her mane playfully. “It's fine. I'll survive. ...probably.”

The two of you share a chuckle as you clamber off of the couch and get started cleaning up for the morning.

(-)

You hum softly to yourself as you push a shopping cart down the aisle of the local supermarket. You can't help it- the song's been stuck in your head since your performances in San Mateo. You and Trixie worked the entire grand finale around it, tricks and illusions paced to its rhythm, the driving beat so exciting to human instincts.

The success of the show allayed any of Trixie's fears of being able to appeal to an audience of your species. To put it mildly, they ate it up. You'd checked the online reviews after the shows, and one of the biggest “likes” you saw was the role-reversal- Trixie being the stern, serious one, and you being the laid-back jokester, played against all the typical pony and human stereotypes, to great effect. They also loved the pacing with the music and the lighting effects as well. Much to Trixie's surprise, more than a few ponies had given the show high marks as well- not to mention a griffon. She'd underestimated the overlap between species, and she's spent no small amount of time since then rethinking several aspects of the act.

Not right now, though. Right now she's giving the salad dressing section a critical look. “Blast, they're out of balsamic vinaigrette,” she mutters. “Donovan, how do you feel about parmesian peppercorn?”

You place a couple of jars of spaghetti sauce in your cart. “Doesn't agree with me.”

“Hm. Bruschetta?”

“I don't think I've tried that, actually.” You look down the aisle and see a woman with her son glancing towards you; the boy is gesturing excitedly. “We could give it a shot.”

“All right, then.” She levitates the bottle into the cart, and you hear her trot back towards you as you kneel down to see if there's any egg noodles left on the shelf. “Now, let's see what else is... oh, hello!”

You glance up to see that the child and his mother are now standing next to your cart; she looks slightly embarrassed, while he is practically bouncing on his heels. “Err, hello,” the woman says. “I'm sorry to bother you, but my son remembers you from your show, and....”

“And I wanted to see if I could get the autograph of the Great and Powerful Trixie!” he finishes.

Trixie blinks at this in apparent surprise. “Well... why, of course!” she says after a moment, glancing around. The pad with your shopping list on it is still in the cart, and quickly she tears off a fresh sheet and levitates the pen into position. “And what is your name, young man?”

“I'm Darrell!”

Trixie smiles as the pen begins to move. “Dear Darrell: Imagination is magic, and yours can take you anywhere.” She finishes this with her customary signature, a stylized “T” with a star. “There you are!” she says, handing the paper to Darrell, who smiles- and then turns to you. “Can I get yours too, Mr. Trellis?”

You're pretty sure that your jaw drops for a moment. “Um... uh, sure! I'd be glad to.” Trixie levitates the pen and pad into your hands, and you think for a moment of what to write. “Darrell: Nothing is impossible until you believe it is. Stand tall and reach high.” On a whim, you write a stylized “DT” at the end of it. “There you go, kiddo,” you say, giving him the paper.

“Awesome!” He clutches both sheets to his chest before carefully folding them up and putting them in his coat pocket. “Thanks so much!”

His mother smiles. “Yes, thank you. It's good to see some nice celebrities who'll make time for their fans.”

“If we don't appreciate our fans, why should they appreciate us?” Trixie replies. “Have a good day, both of you.”

The mother and son head back down the aisle, and Trixie turns to you. “So... your very first autograph request, I take it?” She's grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“Uh... yeah.” You rub the back of your neck and return her grin with a sheepish one. “Assistant stunt coordinators don't often get asked for autographs.”

“Ah, but that's not what you are anymore.” She playfully brushes against your side. “You're an honest-to-Luna celebrity now. Get used to it... I imagine that'll be far from your only fan.”

“If that's the case... I'm going to need to come up with a better catchphrase to sign.”

“No argument here.” She gives you a teasing grin as you stick your tongue out at her.

(-)

It's two and a half weeks until your Ponyville show. You and Trixie have been going over everything with a fine-tooth comb, looking for ways to improve upon every aspect, to make this THE definitive version of the act. You've both been skirting the edge of exhaustion, almost getting into fights a couple of times before realizing how overstressed you've been.

So when Trixie got an Email from Twilight Sparkle asking both of you to stop by Ponyville to discuss some particulars about the show, you both took it as a welcome excuse to get away from planning for just a little while and decompress. And so that's why you and Trixie are disembarking from the Friendship Express at Ponyville Station once again. “It's rather odd that she'd pick today to have us discuss things,” Trixie says as you head down the platform and towards the town.

You shrug. “Could be held-up paperwork, could be a problem with the space requirements for the new stage... who knows?”

You both head inside the library despite the “Sorry, We're Closed” sign; Twilight's Email had specifically said she'd be closing down the library to allow for an uninterrupted meeting. However, that doesn't explain how dark it is inside- the curtains are drawn tightly shut, and none of the usual lights are lit. “Um....” Trixie begins.

And then the lights come on.

“SURPRISE! Happy birthday, Trixie!”

Your friend is frozen there, eyes wide and jaw dropped, as Twilight, her friends and a couple dozen others seem to appear out of nowhere. Only now can you see the “Happy Birthday” banner hung across the ceiling and no small number of balloons tied to seemingly every surface. “B- buh....” Trixie stammers. “But... how... how did....”

“How'd we know it was your birthday? Oh, we got a little information from someone on the inside.” Twilight shoots you a grin, and Trixie turns to look at you. “I stole a peek at your ID card,” you admit. “I was curious. When we decided to hold our show here just a couple of weeks after it, I figured... why not ask Twilight if she'd mind hosting a surprise party for you?”

“But... everything's been so hectic lately, even I forgot my birthday was coming up!” Trixie shakes her head slowly, bringing a hoof to her forehead. “I... this is....”

“Pssh. Relax, silly filly!” Pinkie Pie bounces up to her, somehow managing to balance a plate with a slice of cake on it atop her poofy-maned head. “Here ya go! The first slice of birthday cake for the birthday girl.”

Trixie carefully levitates the plate down and spears a morsel of cake with the fork, then pops it into her mouth. Then she glances back at you again. “And did my ID card tell you that double-chocolate cake with mint frosting is my favorite kind?”

“Nope. That was all Pinkie.” You motion to the pink pony, who grins. “Just a lucky guess!” she exclaims. “And, well, maybe just a little psychology.” She gives Trixie a sly wink before she turns to the other guests. “Okay, everyone! Dig in!”

As the guests mingle about to get various snacks and treats, you make your way over to Twilight. “I have to admit,” you tell her, “knowing about Pinkie's reputation, I was worried that she'd try to pack every last Ponyvillian in here.”

Twilight chuckles. “Maybe a couple of years ago she would've. But she's come to learn the value of being subdued.”

“Yep!” Pinkie suddenly pops up from behind a table. “ 'Cause the party should be the best it can be for the party pony! And if the party pony would rather have a small party... well, then, I just concentrate all the awesome into a smaller size!”

You give her a smile. “I appreciate it, Pinkie. I think Trixie does too.”

“No problemo, Donovan-o! Now go get some cake! Plenty for everyone!”

You do just that, helping yourself to a plateful of cake- and it really is good, too, hoofmade with love and so moist and delicious- before returning to Trixie's side. She gently brushes against your side. “You are never going to stop surprising me, are you?” she asks quietly.

“Not if I can help it.” You chuckle to yourself as you take one of the napkins you're holding under your plate and brush away a bit of icing and few crumbs from her muzzle. “Hey, I was saving that for later,” she snickers. “We are definitely taking some of this home.”

“No kidding. I'm tempted to run out and price handcart rentals.”

The party is enjoyable, with the small crowd making for a relaxed atmosphere. You have the idea at first to hang back and let Trixie enjoy her special day, but every time you do, she makes a point of coming near you or asking you to help her with something. It doesn't take you long to realize she wants you with her here, to share the experience. Truth be told, it makes you feel all sorts of warm and fuzzy inside.

You're by yourself for a short while as Trixie heads off to the “little fillies' room”, when you hear someone clearing their throat behind you. You turn to find a rather young-looking griffon hen watching you. “Hey, dude,” she says. “Mind if I talk with you for a bit?”

“No, not at all.” You extend a hand, and she shakes it carefully- much to your relief; those talons are pretty sharp. “I'm Donovan.”

“Heh. I know who you are. I caught one of your shows out in Neighbraska. It was pretty fun.” She grins, an impressive feat with a beak. “I'm Gilda.”

“Nice to meet you, Gilda. What did you want to talk about?”

“Heh. Okay. This is gonna sound kinda weird, especially coming from somebody you don't know, but....” She shifts uncomfortably. “You and Trixie there. Are you two... um... together?”

“To... gether?” The question is so out from left field that it actually takes you a few seconds to comprehend it. “I, er....”

“Hey, I'm not trying to, y'know, put you on the spot or anything. You can just tell me to blow off and I'll be cool with it. It's just, uh....” She scratches the back of her head. “It's kind of a personal thing.”

You look her over for a moment. She's somehow managing to look both uncomfortable and eager, which is a really neat trick. She doesn't seem like she means you any harm, though, so you come up with a sort of compromise. “I'll tell you what. You tell me why you want to know, and then I promise to give you an honest answer.”

“Heh. Well, I suppose that-” She's suddenly interrupted by a voice behind her. “Hey, G!” someone calls out; both of you turn to look. Rainbow Dash is approaching you, a small tray of drinks balanced on her back. She gives you a brief smile by way of hello. “Hey, you're Donovan, huh?” she asks. “Nice to meetcha. Looks like you already met my henfriend, Gilda.”

Henfriend? Suddenly you get an inkling of the purpose behind Gilda's question. “That's right,” you tell the pegasus. “Good to meet you as well.”

She shakes your offered hand. “Awesome. Hey, lemme tell ya... it's nice to see Trixie changed, y'know? Used to be she was a real chump, but it looks like she turned things around. Shoulda guessed that finding a good friend could do that.” She grins at you. “Oh, hey, want a drink? I was bringing one for G here, but I've got a spare.”

“I'll pass, but thanks.” Next to you, Gilda takes the offered drink and gives Dash a look you can't read, but apparently she can. “Oh, um, I better go snag some crepes before they're all gone,” Dash says, giving the tables a glance. “Back in a few.”

She's gone in a flash of rainbow-colored mane. You look back at Gilda, who's nursing her drink with a sheepish smile. “I guess that answered my question for me,” you say. “So if you don't mind me indulging my curiosity... how long?”

“A bit over two years.” She swirls the drink in its glass slowly. “I knew her since our days back in flight school, but... y'know, to be honest, I was a jerk. One day I blew into town, belittled her friends, tried to get her to ditch them. No surprise she picked them over me.” A short pause as she takes a few gulps. “Spent a little while hating her, then hating her friends, then hating myself. Then I finally got it in my head that, hey, maybe I ought to apologize and try not be such a jerk, y'know?” She chuckles. “Turns out her new friends weren't as lame as I thought. I just had to tell them I was sorry and wanted to change, and they were cool with the whole thing.”

You nod. “Ponies tend to be good about that.”

“Heh, you ain't kiddin'. So then... catching back up with Dash, you know, seeing all the stuff she does now being one of the Elements, I realized how much she's changed. I was... honestly impressed, really. Then I started falling for her.”

You nod once again. “But, as my keen eyes and sharp mind have detected, she's a pony and you're a griffon.”

“A regular Fetlock Holmes, you are.” She chuckles. “Yeah. Not exactly a common relationship. Not that her friends mind at all, adorable goofs that they are, but some others... not so understanding.” She ruffles her wings a little. “I get more noise about it from other griffons than from ponies. You know how the hoofed ones are, love and tolerance.”

“There's worse things,” you answer with a smile.

“Wouldn't argue. So... when I saw you and Trixie there being close, I just wondered if, you know....” She gazes down at the floor.

“...if maybe you'd found another interspecies couple like you and Rainbow Dash?” you finish for her.

“Yeeeeeeah.” She shrugs and lets out a little sigh. “It's stupid, I admit. It's not like I'm insecure or anything, and you're never going to hear me say I regret anything about it. But feeling like you're the only one of any sort of group around... it's really not the most pleasant thing.”

You nod in understanding. “Well... Trixie and I are close, yeah. I don't know if what we have is a 'relationship'... we've never actually talked about it, believe it or not.”

“It can't just be business.” Gilda smirks. How does she do that with a beak? “You two look pretty comfortable with each other.”

“Well, no, it's hardly 'just business'. Not anymore.” You rub the back of your head, just a little embarrassed. The griffon grins. “Hey, dude, it's cool. I've been in that spot myself. Maybe I gave you something to think about, huh?” She extends her claw, and you shake it again. “But really, I appreciate you hearing me out and being honest with me. You're an alright guy, Donovan.”

“You're pretty alright yourself.” You smile. “Coming to our show in a couple of weeks?”

“Wouldn't miss it.” Gilda glances behind you. “Ah, here comes Trixie. I'll let you get back to her.” Another grin. “Thanks again, dude. Take it easy.”

“You too.” You turn to see Trixie approaching you. She seems a little thoughtful, though otherwise happy. “Sorry I took so long,” she tells you.

“No worries. Everything okay?”

She gently leans against you and gives you a soft smile. “Right now... everything is wonderful.”

It's a fun party for the rest of the day, with a couple of presents for Trixie- Rarity has made her a beautiful cloak, which will be perfect for the show; you and Trixie decide to put her name in the promotional materials in thanks- as well as some singing and some party games. Twilight in particular seems interested in how well humans handle Pin The Tail On The Dragon... in your case, at least, the answer is “stumble around and fall over a couple of times without even getting close”.

Eventually, though, as all parties must, this one comes to a close. Trixie says her thanks to Twilight and her friends, as do you. And as you and Trixie head back towards the train, you realize that the steady weight of stress and anticipation that has been weighing down on you over the last couple of weeks is mercifully gone. Trixie seems a little more spry as well. “Donovan?” she says as you both settle down on the bench atop the platform.

“Hmm?”

“Thank you again. Thank you for putting up with me despite how hectic everything's been, and thank you for the party.”

“Well, if we're thanking each other for things, what about you? Taking care of me while I was recovering from my head injury, that time you brought a bucket for me when I had the stomach flu, and the one morning you made bacon and eggs for me....”

She chuckles. “I live with an omnivore. I can adapt.”

“But still, I know you don't like handling meat products. And anyway- when you've washed out a bucket of vomit for someone, that's some true friendship right there.” You put an arm over her back. “Go ahead, try to deny it. You can't.”

She makes a show of trying to come up with an argument before bursting out in laughter. “All right, all right, I give. It helps that, again, I don't wish to argue the point.” She leans in against you, her breath still smelling like punch and candy and double-chocolate cake with mint frosting. And you're looking into her eyes as deeply as she's looking into yours, and you're leaning down as she's leaning up, and you can tell her heart has suddenly sped up just like yours-

-and then the train whistle sounds, making you both jump.

Trixie puts a hoof to her chest as she glances over to the train. “Did you even hear it coming?” she asks.

You shake your head. “No. You?”

“No....” Again, she breaks out into merry laughter. “We are something else, aren't we.”

“Maybe, but we're something awesome.” You share a good laugh as you board the train. You find a nice seat all to yourselves, but you don't need most of it- Trixie is right there next to you the entire ride.

You're more than okay with that.