Fallout Equestria: Burdens

Chapter 5- Reassessment

“Let’s go over it again… just to be safe…”

Where is it?

Those words don’t leave me alone. They bother me like a tiny fly buzzing into my ear in a dark room, one that baits me into thinking I’ve got a moment’s peace. The irritation it leaves me with has me shaking my head a little harder every time I hear them come around like it’ll make it stop. It worsens when my head swings left to right– growing louder than my hearing whines with each headshake.

Where is it? Where is it? Whereisit?Whereisit?!Whereisit?! WHERE—

Just like that— just like a fly, gone again, as if I hadn’t been hearing it save for the faint buzzing that always finds itself in empty rooms like this. Dizziness and a throbbing forehead, both sensations come at me one after the other and I brace my head at its sides for the worst of it. I take a deep breath, close my eyes and squeeze them shut, then groan it all out; all of the creeping vertigo and the growing, sore pulses against the forward wall of my skull. Those words, I realize, don’t just taunt me but drive me to hurt myself. Fuckin conspiracy…

My ears flick to my left, driving my attention away from those irking thoughts. “Good morning, Ward.” Stagona greets, coming in with… what I guess is a bouquet of foodstuff on a trolly. I have to blink several times and rub my eyes with hoof and feathers just to make sure what I’m seeing isn’t something I’m dreaming up. The arrangement is just way too artsy; peeled oranges stuffed with red berries, cut to look like a budding flower; lettuce wraps looking like—I think the word is ‘cornucopia’, stuffed with some kind of dark, brownish filling; an egg in a dainty-looking cup; water, sugar, and a small cup full of brown, oily-looking liquid. I’m not sure what it is… maybe an incredibly watery dressing? But for what?

“Why does the food look like an art project?” I ask as the trolly rolls to a stop near the foot of my bed.

She smiles a little— chuckles, even, “You have been here a while. I figured that, with the grace of the Matriarch, you were deserving of something a little more special than just line-food.” Her smile wanes slightly, “Especially with all you have been through, thus far.”

This is an apology for keeping me locked up, then. How long has it been? I still can’t tell— even back in our bunker, we had at least something to tell us when the morning started and when it ended. Am I actually missing the reveille and morning report? No, no, I can tell when in the day it is just fine— food comes in and out in consistent intervals, but it’s not just breakfast, lunch, and dinner; there’s more between each. With that in mind, I’m guessing this is somewhere between breakfast and lunch… everything on the plates, now, looks somewhere between “wake-up” and “top-up”, respectively.

“How is your recollection today, by the way?” Stagona asks, holding out a cup for me. A brief peer shows water reflecting off the warm light in the room. I take it, slowly realizing that there’s a faint residual heat at the bottom of the cup that I can feel through my hoof. “It is just water, rest assured.”

I discreetly smell it as I bring it to my lips for a drink. The water is hot, but not scalding; drinkable, and comforting as it makes its way down. I set it aside when I’ve drunk up half the glass, and go for the fruit arrangement. Now that it’s in my hooves, a part of me begins to wonder about its taste this time. Their colors are so vibrant, and the skins are so smooth and shiny; it’s almost too pretty to eat. I carefully take one of the wedges, plucking it like a flower petal between my teeth and being careful not to break the pulp, yet, until I have the entirety of it in my mouth.

If there is any bit of personality to the colorful arrangement; anything about them to make me feel good for having tried real fruit… there’s nothing but disappointment. No matter how hard I close my eyes and savor it, I only grow more disgusted by the flavorless, watery mush with its strange textures getting everywhere in my mouth. Swallowing it is almost like soft torture. The notes I do taste are metallic and bitter, like sucking on a rusty bit melting on my tongue. A gag forces me to take a drink to wash it all down. I thought the Corporates had the best of anything— what the fuck is this?! Did they get these from the Enclave mess?

I shudder at the thought of what it all looked like inside my mouth. Another one crosses my mind: What if it’s just the fruit? My attention turns to that lettuce wrap, waiting for me to take a bite. I stare at it a little longer, still not sure what I’m seeing in that brownish filling, and trying my best not to think of anything… inappropriate. My stomach will kill me if I sit on that idea for too long, and all I think is “fine.”

Taking the wrap in my hooves, the lettuce does sound crispy. It feels wet, too. I gently bring it to my mouth, and my jaw strains to open from hesitation. Unable to bring it any closer, my mouth lunges for it and snaps with a crisp bite into the lettuce and the filling.

Stagona’s ears flatten into her head, “I am sorry.”

“About what?” I ask, rolling the fruit back on its plate.

“For how hard it must be for you, right now.” She says. “Again, with all that has happened—”

“No.” I cut her off, glumly. “I don’t— ‘with all that’s happened?’ I can’t even remember any of what happened.”

“You must be, for certain. I do not think anypony would be able to take any of this well, yet…”

I look right at her and make sure her eyes lock onto mine. “Why do you talk to me like we’re friends?” I sigh and rub my hoof across my mane, trying to think. “We’re not. I don’t know you as much as I think I should for you to be like this.”

It’s always bothered me, now that I think about it. The way she talks to me, gently— like I’m one of her own or something close. I only know her name, and she treats me like that. It reminds me of that nag— in a way. Is that another torturous element to my scenario? Having holes in my memory, but the ones completely untouched are ones of that old pegasus trying to be something she’s not? I can’t help but breathe out heavily now that I’m seeing it like that.

“You are right to think that,” Stagona tells me. “It is true: I do not know you, but I know you enough to help you, Ward. You may or may not remember this, but I am responsible for you now— per the wish of the Matriarch. I’m only trying my best to make your stay here as comfortable as I possibly can.”

“Why are you really here?” I ask. Silence fills the room, threatening to get denser with each passing minute.

Tick…

…tick…

…tick…

“I suppose…” She says, “I suppose this is a reassessment; to ensure that you are of sound mind, body, mana, and spirit.”

“Why?”

“Because we both lost substantial information. We both lost it because we had to, and… you may find things will not be as temporary as they are now.” Just as I’m about to ask more about what she means, she reaches into her indigo cloak blanket and her hoof comes out, gently, with an iridescent glass orb in it. “As to the meaning behind my words, part of that is here. This memory orb was made by you, for you.”

I reach out to it gently and she places it in my hoof. It’s cold to the touch, and I swear I can hear it sing as it glides across the hoof-line; the word ‘serene” comes to mind as it does. Weighs less than a feather, I think, and it’s got a small, but noticeable glow to it— various grays and blues shine across its pristine surface. When I hold it up to the glowbulb’s light, the inside is hazy, yet I think I see something moving there, briefly before it fades away. “Do I just… watch it here?”

Stagona doesn’t say anything, but she goes to the trolley and reaches for something on the bottom shelf. It’s… some kind of brass cylinder? Almost looks like those thin cookie tins. She pulls on one end with her teeth, and there’s a faint mechanical-sounding whine and snap as the object extends like a telescope while one end sort of blooms open like the folding stabilizer fins on a warhead. They blended so seamlessly with their initial form that it felt strange to see them come out with that pop. She then twists the end that was just in her mouth and it expands, again.

What will it do next?

She sets it down on the floor, then holds out her hoof again. The glowbulb floats right on over and into it like her hoof was its bed, and she does that ritual-esque thing, again, where she brings it to her muzzle. The size of the light sphere shrinks, and she guides it into a small compartment just above the fins holding the telescoping thing up. She presses down the whole shape and it clicks, but when she steps off the side of the device underneath her hoof pops open like a lid, letting the concentrated beam of light out.

“Just place the memory orb onto the stand and close the ring around it.” She tells me. “I will leave you to be with it.”

“What?” Her words catch me off guard like a snap.

“It is a message for you.” She tells me. “You and you alone. I merely wish to respect the privacy of that.”

“Wouldn’t you want to know?” I ask.

I don’t know if I mean it as a genuine question or a remark reflecting my time here, bombarded with questions, and cooped up even tighter yet somehow less so than home… but I say it nonetheless. She says nothing, and I’m not sure if it’s the confusing delivery of my question, or something else.

“I will need to take care of some things. Wildcat will be outside to make sure nothing happens while I’m gone. If you need anything, she’s there.”

Hearing that mare’s name makes my stomach writhe and flare with soreness. I growl at that being my reflex towards her. “Okay,” I say, taking a deep breath.

She leaves and the door closes behind her, leaving me to stare at the pillar of light and back to the iridescent marble still sitting in my hooves.

I need to do this, right? I mean, what can it be about? What did I have to say— no, why did I do something like this? And why do I have butterflies in my stomach thinking about it? Can’t believe I’m getting worked up over a glass marble. But those shapes I saw. I couldn’t see them clearly, but… I feel like I should know what they are. It’s like details in a dream; the more I focus on it the more I feel like I know. But then again, it’s just a feeling— an instinct that, in this case, can be nothing but self-sabotage.

I plop the marble into the beam of light, then seal the ring over it as Stagona told me to. Just as the seal clicks in place, I flashbang myself when I look right into it. Groaning in frustration, I rub the flash out from under my eyelids— periodically seeing grainy pictures in the splotches in my vision….

My ears flick; my fidgeting stops instantly. I hear mumbling— chattering, in the room with me. Slowly, I bring my eyes out from my wings and see grainy ghosts in my room. There are three of them, they haven’t noticed me, and I instinctively hold my breath while they crowd around the bed.

“That’s it? I just start speaking out loud?” I recognize my voice. It is me. I’m actually there, sitting in the bed with a skeletal tiara around my head talking to the two zebras around me there. This is hard, I can’t help but also feel awkward hearing myself doing that, but not actually doing anything, currently— fuck me. It’s disorienting.

“Yes. It may feel a little weird, but that is just the imprinting process.” An unfamiliar, stallion speaks up before gently walking away from the me on the bed.

“We will give you some privacy. Just tell yourself everything I’ve shared with you thus far.” A familiar voice this time— Stagona— speaks to the me in the bed. “Remember, you later— now I suppose— will not. Tell yourself everything.” She follows the stallion that walked away, and both of them phase through the door to the room so seamlessly it almost throws a chill up my spine.

“Well…” I hear myself speak up, bringing my attention back around. “I guess this is it.”

* * * * * *

“Hey, Ward. I don’t know when you’ll be seeing this— not sure if you’ll ever want to see it, really, but whether or not ya did I really hope ya do, and am glad ya did… However this works…

“... It's weird having to hear yourself talk to ya, right? I wouldn’t doubt it. I’ll just be clean with what’s going on. I’m sure ya have these intrusive thoughts ya aren’t sure are yours. You’re probably telling yourself you’ve heard these things before and are trying to make these things fit into what’s there in your head. You’re probably on the road to driving yourself crazy doing that, whether you’re aware or not. Well… the short answer is that your memory is full of holes for a reason. Here’s what ya need to know for now about that:

“In case you don’t remember, we were part of a mission to retrieve something for the General. Somewhere along the way we got lost, ending up… somewhere— nowhere; a non-place. What I found out, trying to find answers for the two of us after finding ourselves here, is that we came back out of that place… different; we were not us. But there was something else, and it followed us all the way here. It sat in our head like a cocooned hawkmoth— ready to crawl, infest, and eat all that we are from the inside out until… Well, the zebra called it “husking” or “shedding”— I can’t remember which word she used— the point is this thing— this big gap in our mind was something meant to protect us. At least that’s what I think, from what the zebra’ve told me.

“This thing they call a ‘Tulpa’, and it’s the very thing that got us here. Ya may not remember it— I don’t remember it, now, but that feeling of ‘knowing’ tells me we did.. And it’s a feeling that’s getting stronger the more I think about it… It’s like a growing itch in the back of the brain. Whatever we did, it was angry, and it stayed in our heads as a memory. It bought its time, waiting for us to set it free from… I still don’t know if it was us who blocked it out, or…

“It doesn’t matter anymore; maybe it won’t matter… It was looking for something, I think. It kept asking ‘Where is it?’, and talking to us like we knew it intimately— like we were somehow more than friends. Might’ve just been trying to make its squirming all the more hellish for us. Again I don’t think it will matter, but I feel like I had to say it…

“Oh yeah, the memory thing. I don’t know how far this procedure will go, but they tell me it needs to happen. Apparently, it follows the same logic as memory, in this current state, and that means in order to get rid of it we need to get rid of every memory it was ever a part of. It’s the surest way to make sure that the worst doesn’t happen— again, I’m not sure what that is, but these zebra and their… Matriarch insists it’s something we don’t want. Considering this thing is part of The Curse in some way, I’d take their word for it.

“This will be permanent, and it’s best that it stays that way. I don’t know what we will lose, but it’s better to keep these things in the dark.

“Last thing: If you hold any doubt against these ponies... zebra... Aridians, I think it’s best if we just go along with it. Don’t take a risk ya don’t need to take, and definitely don’t go into this blind thinking whatever the Enclave taught us will do us any good.

“Don’t forget Avie, either. She’s still out there– and they say she’s safe, but I still worry. We both have a reason to worry; don’t forget that, either.

“Okay, I’m done.”

* * * * * *

The memory blurs and flickers until there’s nothing left but a faint, pulsing light filling the room. I stare at the spot I had been sitting, and I don’t want to move until it all has time to settle. There’s just so much of it. I mean, that was me— literally me, right? This can’t be— I mean it shouldn’t be—

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, hoping it clears those senseless questions. They are senseless, right?

Breathe in; breathe out…

A bang on the door to tell them I’m done. I step back to let Stagona inside, briefly catching a brass-eyed leer from the unicorn outside before the door cuts her off. The zebra makes her way to the little projector thing and fidgets with it, popping out the memory orb, and then letting the little ball of light out before bringing it to her muzzle to let it shine. “Did you find everything you need from yourself?” She asks, holding the memory orb in her open hoof.

I can’t say that I did. Maybe? I don’t know. “There’s a lot.”

“A lot of what?”

“Uncertainty, I guess. It’s annoying that these holes in my memory exist.” I think out loud enough for her to hear me. “He… I… told me a lot that carries an air of familiarity.”

“Does it?” She asks. Her question has a distinct pang of concern that makes my blood want to flare with a chill.

“Yeah.”

She stares, but I’m not sure if it’s toward me or something beyond me. Her eyes jitter while her lips move up and down; it’s all so subtle I’m not sure if I’m imagining any of it. “Well, I suppose this would be the perfect time to sit down and evaluate what you have seen. I have been meaning to do it, nonetheless, as it is around that time we were to see how you have been— all things considered.”

With her words, she takes a seat in the same chair across from my bed. I take mine on the edge of the bed; the same dance, and I know all the steps well at this point.

“Tell me, Ward,” She starts. “What was it you saw in the memory projector?”

“Myself.”

“Would you want to elaborate?” She asks. “You do not have to if you do not want to.”

“There is nothing to elaborate on. It was just me, talking to me.”

She nods. “Yes. And what was it that you were telling yourself?”

I begin to think about it, replaying segments of the whole thing over and over again until something feels right to talk about…

“It was… I was talking about my head and how it was full of holes– how I’d be trying to make sense of things— things I’m… I’m not sure about it.”

“Elaborate?”

“Like… Like imagining things, I guess. I told myself that I’d be trying to make sense of things that I’m not sure ab— I said that already—”

“It’s okay; you are perfectly alright.” She reassures me with a smile. “Sometimes repetition helps, especially in this case. Now, can you continue, please?”

There’s a pang in my gut, telling me otherwise about the repeating. I’m trying hard not to knock against my own head. “I told myself that… that I would be having thoughts that weren’t mine; intrusive ones. Told me that I would drive myself crazy trying to make sense of it.”

“I see.” She muses.

“And… Well, I jogged my own memory with things I already knew. My briefing with… with the General; the mission— most of that stuff.”

“Most?”

I wave my hoof, “Yeah… it feels like a dream when I try to remember certain things like the Outpost. I don’t know, it’s more like a word to me now than a troubling thought.” I notice her nodding a little, but go back to thinking. “Mentioned things like being ‘nowhere’, and coming out ‘different’— whatever that means. I even made some comments about something in my head… like a cocooned hawkmoth or something like that.”

“Do these things mean anything to you?”

“I… don’t think so?”

She tilts her head, “You are not certain?”

I shrug, “Guess I’m not.”

“That is okay. Now, are there any further comments worth mentioning? Any at all?”

I think back, again, and find several. “What’s a ‘Tulpa’? And what did you all mean by ‘husking’ or ‘shedding’?”

There’s a change in her eyes. Is that supposed to be apprehension? Or is it something else? “The Enclave… they never properly informed you of these things, did they?”

I shake my head and shrug. “I can’t say. As far as any cadet knew, we were being told what was in the know— or what you all knew.”

There is silence for a little spell. “I see. Well, this is true; we do not know much about these Curse-Entities, but that should not explain why you were not informed properly.”

“I think some officers get this idea that if there isn’t much to say about anything, it’s probably not worth mentioning. It’s just a hunch, but if the info is that scarce they may not have bothered.” It sounds logical enough to think of it like that, yet it’s a leap that’s counterproductive, nonetheless. If what I said turns out to be true, then we both know who’s at fault. Then again, if there’s little to go by, how can we even identify the enemy effectively? But… These zebra know what they are so… they should know a little bit about that. “How do you know about these things, anyway?”

“Recollections; lost files; artistic depiction in journals and wall messages found across the land.” She tells me. “They remain wildly inconsistent, and even that is only a theory— the idea that they are not all the same.”

“Then how would we know when we would stumble across them?” I ask, then realize that I may have answered my own question. “Oh…”

I guess it all lines up a bit. Still, it’s reckless of our officers…

She clears her throat, “We should remain focused on the subject at hoof. As for such, is there anything else of note that you may need to know?”

“Husking? Shedding?”

She nods. “Yes, yes. For those… they go… how do you say, ‘hoof-in-hoof’ with the Tulpa. But rest assured you will be informed appropriately in due time. For now, I ask how you feel about your recollection, overall?”

How do I feel? I lower my head with that question setting in. Its discomforting weight makes my stomach whine and my ears fold into my head. “I feel like we’ve barely moved with this; with any of this; what we’ve been doing— trying to do.”

“I understand,” she tells me. “Sometimes these things happen. Who is to say? Maybe we will find what we are both looking for if we just wait enough.”

“And how long will that be?” I may not remember the days accurately, or count them all together, but I sure as hell can feel that time passing. It rubs at me— first like a sponge, and then like sandpaper. I don’t want to know how much more grating it would be when this single cell becomes my whole world. I try to tell her that— and I would— but… the smallest inkling tells me that it will fall on deaf ears.

‘Don’t doubt these ponies…’

Right…

The silence has lingered for a good while, and it hasn’t changed. Stagona just stares at me with that same, soft look in her eyes. “This is not permanent. Do not go thinking this is the end of the world. We just need to wait a little longer, and by the grace of the Saan-Al’Kima, you will leave this room. You have my word— as it has always been the agreement between us.”

My gaze falls, again, “You’d send me back to… the General.”

“I cannot say.”

The squeezing in my stomach tightened, and I swallowed a lump, closed my eyes, and tried not to remember those icy blue mirror-like eyes. “What about Avi-atrix.”

“Yes, we are still trying to have her transferred here, but—”

“But what?”

“I believe the term used by the Corporate branch of dam-Mutfalinn is ‘Red Tape’ ?” She answers with a question. “As it turns out, she is not on duty— but rather on leave. Your General calls it a ‘Leave of Absence’. As far as I have been told, there are numerous complications in the transfer— namely the nature of her absence.”

“That being?”

“‘The Outpost Incident’ is what your kin call it. You remember, yes?” I nod my head. The softness in her eyes shifted into something else– like she was trying to see something in me. Did I do something wrong? “I am sorry to detract from the subject, but I believe I glanced over something from our session just moments ago.”

I cock my head slightly, “Yes?”

“Do the words ‘where is it’ mean anything to you, Ward?”

Why did that pressure in my gut sink like a brick of lead? I know the answer, and I’m afraid to say anything. Why am I afraid? “N-n-not exactly.”

“How do you mean?”

“It’s just—” An errant thought cuts in and dismantles the flow in my head, “I– Why that question?” I can’t tell if I’m shocked or not, hearing the way she asks me that question. My head feels strange thinking about it, and it doesn’t seem any better to feel— let alone see— those dots connecting in my head.

“It is just an observation, Ward.” She tells me. “As a matter of fact, you have said it more often— and I am not sure if you are aware of yourself doing it.”

“I…” I have no answer.

All there is to go on is just vivid blurs of time, and my mind conjures voices in my head to put something to the rampant, intrusive thoughts and sentences still bouncing around. The discomforting feeling, slow as it is, is still too annoying to ignore. I reach for my chest, and I only feel cloth; just cloth, and nothing else over or under it…

Where is it…

Where is it…

“What troubles you, Ward?” She asks.

I look up from my chest, still hearing those three words echo endlessly in my head, again. Slowly, that lurking feeling of something making sense makes itself known. I can feel light bulbs coming on, slowly, as my eyes begin to widen with realization.

“I… I guess I’ve been asking myself that, after all.”

Her eyes noticeably widened with surprise, “Oh?”

I nod, “Because…I lost something— something… that I’ve never thought I’d be without.”

“What did you lose?”

“My talisman.” I’m still scratching at my chest, now that my attention is focused on the fact that it isn’t where it should be. It’s cold, where it once was, too. Even with this garb on, I can’t help but feel like a part of me is missing— and I don’t want to think about how long it’s been since I’ve seen it. I won’t expose myself like that in front of this zebra if it kills me…

I’ve lasted this long, but now I’m fighting to keep all that bottled-up nonsense shut and locked away. It hurts, but… I won’t…

“I am sure we can help you find it. What does it look like?”

“It’s a gem— a roughly cut one, actually. It has a long leather cord, and the gem’s somehow connected to some kinda wire keeping it all together. It looks homemade…”

“It must be really special to you.”

I nod. “It belonged to my mother; my real mother.”

She puts her hoof to her chest, her face expressing what I assume is compassion. “You hold onto a part of her, then.”

“I guess you’re right…”

“Well, maybe we can help you find it— if it will help you with everything that has been happening thus far? When was the last time you had it?”

I pause to think, focusing on its color; its feeling in between my hooves. I’m still rubbing them together, trying to make that memory a little stronger while I focus. “I had it… before I ended up here… Before I jumped into that crack in the ground; before I ended up here. Yeah, I remember it… it vanished in that gap in my mind…”

There’s a pause. I don’t know what I waited for; maybe it was validation— from myself, or from her— for some reason. Looking at her, again, her compassionate expression is gone, replaced by a look of sharp concentration. She’s not even looking at me but at one of her hooves.

“What?” I asked loud enough to get her attention. It doesn’t budge her. Does she know something, after all?

Her hooves touch the floor and she stands. Those orange eyes look about her immediate space like some Technician would look at a multi-screen terminal display. She takes a deep breath soon, afterward, “I thought I had seen it, but I cannot be too sure. We are done with our assessment, for now. I will take this time to inquire about your talisman and Aviatrix.”

“That’s it?”

She nods, taking the trolley. “Yes, for now. Rest assured, we are not done. There are still certain things we must see to completion.”

I tilt my head. “Such as?”

She looks back at me, “There are still ponies who wish to see you.”

The door opens. The pale light from outside the room shines in and is then shut out once she steps into it.

Alone, again.

* * * * * *

Tick…

… tick…

…tick…

I hear you, again. I can’t see you, and you’re not here. I’ve gotten so used to hearing the ‘tick-tick-ticking’ that it really is my white noise, isn’t it? It sounds so real, even if it is a hallucination in my current situation.

Tick…

…tick…

…tick…

This place… what can I really say about it? It’s secluded; it’s lonely; I’ve got all I need for calling this place a stay-in. The bed is a tier up from the ones in the barracks, and the sheets actually feel nicer– lighter than the itchy, heavy, wiry ones back at the bunker. The food… Well, at least it shows that they care about how food is presented to somepony. I called it eye candy, but it tastes like sand or mud or mush… all of that. Stagona… she called it something. Aj-eh… Aah…A..Ageusia, I think? I don’t know why, though. Maybe my tongue died from years of eating toxic waste-looking food for as long as I lived? But that wouldn’t explain why I can taste Avie’s food…

I can go for her Vegetable Cream Soup right about now. My stomach roils from having to force something down my throat just to kill the pangs of hunger. They still bring me food, but I barely eat it. I can’t even take any of it if I mix anything with the water. It just makes the feeling in my gut worse with each gulp.

Tick…

…tick…

…tick…

It’s just waiting. That’s all there is to do. Sometimes it’s walking around in circles; sometimes it’s swaying in place. Wing-ups with the nightstand; crunches… none of it feels like it makes time go faster.

Tick…

…tick…

…tick…

I still think about the way she looked at me. The way her eyes darted about when I mentioned my talisman. It looked like suspicion— and the way her lips moved like she was muttering something my ears can’t pick up. It’s not the first time she’s done it, but still, it’s an interesting way to think— if not a little concerning.

Tick…

…tick…

…tick…

Avie…What is that nag doing to you? Do you remember what happened that day? Were you there? How many of us survived? Did… did she see you with me?

Tick…

…tick…

…tick…

It’s my fault. It’s all my fault. I’m sorry if I got you involved.

Tick…
…tick…
…tick…

Avie—

My ears snap at attention to the door opening, breaking the silence and letting in a blinding light. I hear them come in while I fidget with my eyes, trying hard to get the floaters to go away in between blinks. No matter how hard or how fast I rub, they’re still there— regardless of whether or not my eyes are open or closed. I thought I’d be used to it by now, but I guess not.

“Stagona?” I groan, still fidgeting with my eyes. “I thought ya’d knock…Stagona?” She doesn’t answer. She didn’t even prompt me with a question to gauge me, did she? What day is it, anyway?

My eye problem settles down enough to where I feel comfortable keeping them open a little. I scan the room with a blurry, worn squint— panning directly to the bedside; to the chair, she normally sits in. A strange feeling comes over me the moment it’s in the center of my vision. Blinking several times makes it all a little clearer, but the pony in the seat… there’s a different vibe coming from them. The room is colder, and the silence has a vaguely familiar weight to it. The more I realize it, the stronger the rigor compels me to straighten my posture and avoid the eyes ever so slightly. But this isn’t like the General’s presence; the haunting dread is absent in this, and there’s only… something else.

“Who—”

“Fear in the eyes; just like all from before.” An old, old mare’s voice booms through the hardened air. My spine rattles from the cool, firm authority in her words. I can’t look away no matter how hard I try, but I can still look past her. “Son of the pariah-flock; scion of a dying legacy; one who has come back from the Brink; an observation that eludes.”

I swallow the lump in my throat. “I don’t—”

“Silence!”

I’m thrown aback, forced to swallow my unfinished sentence. My chest is squeezing against my lungs too hard, and I can barely eke out a full breath through my nose. It wasn’t a scream, but I felt it boom in my head, and it became the only thought I could comply with. Just what is she? Who is she?

I can’t see her face through the dark shroud. My thoughts paint a phantom in the corner of my room, growing bigger and darkening the room with a fear-inducing, dominating presence. It threatens to take the whole room, and I’m left wanting to shrink as far away from it as possible.

“Stand.” That same feeling; compels me to obey. “Closer.” The same feeling brings me close. For a moment it felt like a dream while my brain turned off everything but what controls my obedience and my movement. I can’t stop shaking from having felt hijacked like that.

A stripped hoof comes out from her cloak, holding itself out as if expecting me to grab something from it. There is nothing but some kind of clear jewel embedded in gold. The whole thing sits neatly within her hoof’s wall, like a perfect-fitting shoe sole. She flips it over where it doesn’t fall out, and she touches my chest with the point of her hoof.

“What’re…” I flinch, expecting verbal reprehension. It doesn’t come. “What is this… ma’am?”

“A final test.” She tells me. “You will need to do something for me, and if done right you should not expect anything to happen.”

“Where’s Stagona… ma’am?”

“Stagona Sophia. She has other duties to attend to, for she does not have the means nor experience for this specific test, as of yet.”

“What is the test… ma’am?”

“The artifact I hold to your chest is what is called an “extractor” in the common tongue. You will listen to my instructions. I shall reiterate that failure to listen to my given instructions will mean severe complications that are of no fault of my own; negligence will spell a hollowed existence that you will not come back from.”

An extractor… Context clues aside, I’ve never heard of it. It looked more like a pendant than anything— and I would’ve assumed they were trying to pass a fake talisman for my own. A part of me is glad, but it doesn’t last. This doesn’t feel like my pulse is being checked— I’m not a doctor or a medic, but I know it isn’t that.

“Listen close.” She grabs my attention,

“You must close your eyes and focus on your most important memory. It must be one that you hold in high regard; of which you have a strong emotional attachment. Under no circumstance are you to open your eyes until the test has run its course.”

I take a second to think, “How will I know when it’s done… ma’am?”

“You will know.”

It’s always my memories. If this is an extractor, and it needs my memory… will I lose it all the same? Will I be giving up a golden moment that means the world to me?

“Rest assured, you will not lose anything. This test relies on the emotional connection, not the memory itself. You will not be subject to that, again.”

I can’t hide the chills her words gave me, and how they seemed to line up with the concerns piling on just a moment ago. It’s not important, now, is it? “When do I start, ma’am?”

“That is dependent on you. One should not find it hard to find a memory they remember closely; fondly even. What will you remember?”

All of my focus comes back to Avie. I would’ve asked about her status; her situation, since I last heard it. She’s on my mind, still, and I have nothing but worry brewing in the back of my mind…

* * * * * *

It was supposed to be a live demonstration. We were still cadets, not even three years into our training, and they took us outside to watch one of The Enclave’s best pilots show us what a Vertibuck was in action.

I can still remember seeing the smoke, and nobody could say they didn’t hear the way the rotors whined and died in the sky. Our first demonstration went down like a rock, and then up in flames. Nobody was prepared for it, and the rapid response was too slow… The casket to be buried was a shoebox full of charcoal…

She didn’t come out of her place; it was all hers, now. The ambiance of washed-out memories was palpable; it is so thick you can cut it, and it was difficult to breathe while it weighed on my chest. It got more difficult the closer I got to where she had been holed up. She never left that bedroom. Her back was always towards the door, under the covers. I swear the room was damp with tears, and sorrow clung to the walls…

She hadn’t touched her food from yesterday; just like last time, and the time before that. She didn’t even touch the two cupcakes I left for her. That cut me deeper than anything else.

I wanted to say something, but I didn’t know what to say. She needed to hear something, but what would help? I couldn’t tell, and I didn’t want to cause harm. I’m the last pony to know what it’s like to lose a parent who’s been with you forever, but I still had to try.

“Avie…is there anything you need? Is there anything I can do for you while I’m here?” I told her I would be there for her, the first time I came to visit, and I want to think that I’ve been consistent. It’s hard to shake the nag and her watchers; I shouldn’t be here, for Avie’s sake… but she needed someone.

She said nothing, just like last time. I sighed and took in the moment, giving her some space by leaving the room and staying on the couch for a while to think about all of the things that must be getting to her. I just sat there, staring at the family portraits on the counter. I don’t think I ever met her pa properly, but he looks like a great pegasus in that picture with a little Avie and her brilliantly positive smile. It’s even cute seeing them wear matching goggles— even if hers are way too big for her head then. It tugs at the ends of my lips, but what smile I would’ve had falls flat to see the blatantly torn part of the photo opposite to her pa…

“I’m all alone now.” She caught me by surprise. I didn’t know how long she stood there, mane a mess and covered in her blanket. Her dark goggles were over her eyes. “I’m all alone…”

I asked, “What happened to her?” The knot in my stomach snapped tight the moment I asked. I still feel like I could’ve done better and kept my yap shut.

“Ma? She… She hadn’t been with us for a long time.” She told me. “Pa had always tried to tell me… that she decided it would be best if she had some time to herself. He found her in the closet sometime later…”

The minute I began to see her white face turn red and her lip quiver, I stood up, apologizing as much as I can just so she didn’t have to hurt anymore. “I didn’t— I didn’t mean to upset ya—I’m sorry.”

My mind ran a thousand miles a second. I shouldn’t’ve prompted her; I’m an idiot for coming here and saying that— I should’ve left well enough alone— why did I have to say anything?!

I just kept apologizing under my breath, trying to slide back to the door— feeling like I shouldn’t be here, anymore— that I should give her more space. She needed more space.

“I’ll just…” It was so hard to say I needed to go, but I just couldn’t. “I’ll just…”

“Please stay…” She asked, her voice heavy. “Please stay, just a little longer…”

I couldn’t ignore the hurt I heard. Any excuse I made to myself to leave just disintegrated, “Yeah. O-of course.”

She took a seat on the couch, and I took mine a little ways from her on the opposite end of it. I waited for her to say something— anything. I didn’t want to say a word, as much as I hated the silence. For her, though, I’d rather she be ready to say something…

“I remembered that night.” she started,

“Pa and Ma were fighting, again. It was worse that time. Ma had been drinking, and she kept getting angrier with each bottle. She kept going on, and on, about how she wasn’t happy with what we had… I think she mentioned wanting to go outside, and… and not looking back…”

Her head craned lower. She took a deep, sniffly breath, and let it out through her mouth shakily. She fidgets with the goggles a little, but keeps them where they are, nonetheless, “Pa told her some awful things— things that nopony should say to family. I guess… I guess it was the last straw for ma…”

I still listened.

“I guess he spent those years, the two of us, trying to make it up to me; making sure I wasn’t alone, or upset. He said—” She choked on her own words, face turning red again while she silently sobbed into her hooves for a minute before forcing the rest of the sentence out, “—he tried telling me Ma had to go someplace. Now he’s gone, too… and it was all so… so—”

It was all so quick…

“Pa didn’t see it happen with Ma, it happened so quietly. I saw the crash happening, and…and I could see how bad it was gonna get. There was still time. I saw him there, reaching out to me from the cockpit. He was screaming…I could’ve saved him— I could’ve done something— he was right there, and I could’ve gotten to him before it went to hell… But you… you—”

I knew what she was going to say. It’s been on my mind the whole time she’s walled herself up in here. “I don’t think he would’ve wanted ya to get hurt, Avie. I just—”

“You just what?! You should’ve helped me get him out! He was right there!” The fury in her voice made me sink back into the couch. I braced myself, wings raised over me as I sank deeper into the cushion when she shot up from her seat, threw her blanket off, and snorted with a rage I never knew she had.

“I-I-I-” Her words, how they bit at me— it’s hard to say anything. If I’d so much as say a word, my tongue would be snapped off.

“You have no right to speak for him, you hear me?! You hear–” Her words, full of spite, erupted into a furious whinny that rocked the room. She reared, flapped her wings till her dead feathers flew across the room; stomped her hooves a little harder each time; threw a portrait over my head, screaming like she had known great betrayal that burned her. It’s what it sounded like to me; it was familiar, but it wasn’t the only thing that was…

The more she threw her rage across the room; the more things shatter in her path, the more I feel and hear things drag themselves across the blackest corner of my brain to bang and claw at the door I keep tight under locks and keys. Every scratching sound; every insistent bang on that metaphorical door made me flinch the longer Avie went on like that…

The more her rage sounded like–

No–

The more she becomes like–

NO–

The torrent of emotion building in the room; the chill was setting in the air. My darkest memories were trying to twist her pain, and make her look like the monster of my life… I had enough of it— enough with myself— what kind of friend was I for actually paying attention to those thoughts!? It was sick, twisted; selfish of me to do that to her!

This was not the Nag’s rage; she was not like her in any way! This wasn’t anything like those dark years! She had everything, and it’s all gone; all she can do is let it out! It’s ugly; it’s fear-inducing, but it was necessary nonetheless.

To know what that must feel like— to have the most important things in life vanish from under your hooves… I couldn’t fathom it, even if I tried. I didn’t have a foundation like that, and I had no right to say I knew what she was feeling.

As I stared on, letting those thoughts settle, she collapsed on the floor. Her words; her raw rage, so loud moments ago, were quiet. “Why? Why did you have to do that? Why did you have to hold me back?!”

Her wings fell limp at her sides as her mane and ears drooped. She shivered, but I don’t know if it’s her crying, or because she’s bare and without a blanket. It didn’t matter…

Did she want me to answer her? I thought about it— always had, at the moment. It was all too vivid to forget. She was the first to try and get him out; the first to run and fly at her top speed while the first response clamored to save the wreckage. I don’t think she knew about that… or the rising flames; the sparks trying to touch the exposed fuel lines. It was already too late; she would’ve joined him. I had to… I wouldn’t have forgiven myself if I stood by like the rest of the sheep.

Did he want her to save him? Did he want her to stay away? Did he want her to live for the both of them? Does he think bad of me for tackling her and dragging her away while she tried to get to him?

“Why, Ward…” She muttered, looking back up at me. “Dammit, Ward, tell me why?! It’s not fair!” My ears drooped, and my eyes were full of water. Her questions stabbed at me harder than I thought they ever could. I can see its other meanings, and I sat there trying to pretend like it didn’t hurt me either way. I couldn’t stop the tears from falling, or the words from coming out.

“I didn’t know what would happen… I don’t– I didn’t– I didn’t want to see you eaten by the fire. I’m sorry… I’m sorry that I don’t know what it’s like to be close to someone who’s been there with you; who may have been among the first faces you’ve seen in life. Nothing I can say would make it any better, and I’m sorry.”

Her quiet sobs were the only thing in the room. I tried hiding my tears, “I needed you…”, she says.

Something brought me closer to her. I still can’t explain it, but with an aching heart and water in my eyes, I made my way to her until I was sitting right in front of her. The goggles lifted over her eyes, and tears fell from them as they fogged up over her cap. Her eyes showed all they had to before she leaned into me and cried into my shoulder.

The shock that would’ve come from it, didn’t. I wouldn’t let it. She had the right to feel these things, and I won’t let the repercussions of my personal life get in the way. I let her cry into me and helped carry her pain by letting my tears fall. My wings wrapped around her as I pulled her in closer, to give her the blanket she needs so much right now. Her hooves clung to me slowly.

“I got ya.” I told her as the sorrow threatened to close my throat. I laid my head on hers, telling her one more time with much more strain. “I got ya…”

“Can you stay for a bit? Please? Just like this a little longer?”

I held her tighter, pushing down my own fears and focusing on her needs. I nod slowly, “I will…”

* * * * * *

My eyes open, and everything is slightly blurry. I rub them, realizing that they’re wet. A cursory glance at the feathers I used shows the tears clinging to and seeping through the baby blue vanes of some of my primary feathers.

“Good. Very good.” The veiled zebra says, bringing my attention to her. She had retracted the hoof she held on me, turning it over to show me the gem. It’s got a glow, now, and it’s shimmering like light in water. It’s almost beautiful, watching these strands of multi-colored light dance within the gem itself.

“What happened to it?” I ask, knowing for certain it wasn’t like that just a moment ago.

“Did you feel any pain?” She asks, instead. My heart feels like it’s been torn open after thinking back to that moment, but it’s not what she means. I check my chest, again, finding it bare… again… but I don’t feel anything else that’s discomforting, burning or anything else that I’d call concerning.

“No.”

“Good. Very good.” She drones like the old mare she is. The hoof holding that artifact disappears into her cloak, and I step back as she stands. My eyes follow her making her way toward the door, but she stops about halfway to it. “If all goes well, you should have one last visitation. I will see to it that you are properly prepared for when the time comes.”

I try pulling her words apart for context clues. “Does this mean I’ll finally get out of here?”

“Perhaps.” She says, walking out of the room.

I walk to the edge of my bed to take a seat. Processing everything suffocates me, and I pound my aching chest to force deep breaths. I can see Avie in my head; I can still feel the raw emotion of that lived moment taking hold. They cling to me, throw me on the bed— I try my damndest to keep a sob and fight the bubbling pain inside from making a mess out of me; swallowing hard and rubbing my face to keep it from tightening up. I can feel it like it’s still happening now. Her words... Dammit…