Midnight

The air is surprisingly brisk tonight – undoubtedly a result of a cloudless sky. But that's alright, as it's still quite comfortable and a welcome temperature after enduring the heat of the day. However, the lack of cloud cover doesn't help to lend luminescence to the dark landscape. With the moon in its 'new' phase, the only light to be seen out here in bumfuck nowhere is the presence of stars in the night sky – hardly enough to make up for the absent moon. But again, it's no issue to me; I can see just fine, even if I were out here searching for something in the dark.

It's been some time since I last had to deal with what equates to insomnia. Maybe it's not quite the medical definition, but until a month or two of crashing on John's couch, the only sleep I could get in a day would be considered a power nap, at best. Evidently, my hypothesis of overactive computer bits in my head keeping me awake was not correct...

I never really believed the lie that I told myself. It just sounded better than admitting my perpetual state of anxiety that had existed for the vast majority of my life. The uncertainty of when or what the next 'experiment' would be, or how to avoid 'termination' and where I would end up. Those fears were allayed, and new ones cropped up – how I was going to survive in the wilderness, followed by what to do once the junkyard owner inevitably found me, and once I made John's acquaintance – how long he would tolerate my presence.

Tonight, something else is eating at me and keeping me awake. Yet I can't nail down what it is, or why it is manifesting now. But laying in bed while everyone else sleeps did not seem ideal. So, easing out from under John's arm as he continued to slumber, I snuck my way out of our room and past Starla, fast asleep on the couch.

I've been outside now for five or ten minutes now, taking refuge on a bench seat that lies just outside the shop walls. Said bench seat is a recent arrival, and the lack of rain for a couple of weeks now means it's still in good condition and a worthy spot to lie and look out at the stars.

...I do know what's bothering me, but I don't know how to approach it. I don't want to even acknowledge it, but the problem is right there at the threshold. I guess somehow, I'm hoping that—

I hear something. Instinctively, my head whips around to gain a view of the shop's open man door, which I had left open for a bit of ventilation while I am up and around. Sure enough, another second or two passes before Starla's head eases out from around the corner, scanning her surroundings as she moves to take another step – before spotting me. Those wide eyes that were already trying to gather as much light as possible to see in the dark somehow manage to get bigger as she freezes in place.

"You aren't as quiet as you think," I wryly quip as I allow my body to relax from high alert mode.

Despite my attempt to allay Starla's uneasiness, she still treads lightly as she makes her way out of the building and over toward me. "I didn't want to startle you if you were still out here," she murmurs once within reach of me, motioning with a foreleg up to her eyes, then pointing to me. "And I didn't expect, uh..."

I glance down at my makeshift couch, noting the subtle blue light that is cast down upon it. "I guess you've not been able to catch a proper look at me in the pitch darkness, huh?" I ask with a chuckle. "Guess I sort of make my own light to see."

"It surprised me, yeah," she concedes with an exhale, relief washing over her face. "And I know I'm not the most graceful being on my hooves, but I figured I could do better than..."

"Me hearing you a few seconds before you even peeked outside?" I suggest with a confident grin. Nonetheless, I sit up and scoot over on the bench seat, patting the now empty space for Starla to take a seat beside me, an offer she readily accepts.

"So, what are you doing out here?" Starla asks while getting herself situated on the seat.

"Couldn't sleep. Figured some fresh air would be better than laying in bed wide awake. What about you?"

Starla scoffs at the question being turned back on her. "I'm a light sleeper, I heard you heading out the door and downstairs," she explains. "But I never heard you head back up."

It's an answer I was expecting to hear, but perhaps not quite the detail I was looking for. "Afraid I had taken off by dark of night to scout out the lab for my mystery man?" I propose, smirking at the idea.

"No!" It's a counter that comes out quickly and reeks of desperation. If that wasn't enough of a clue, the fact that Starla can't look at me right now seals the deal.

"Would you like to try that again, albeit a bit more believable?" I tease, trying to keep this meeting and conversation light-hearted in nature.

"...so I thought maybe there was a one percent chance you might have been crazy enough to try something like that," she admits, her voice suddenly kept low. "But I was mostly curious what was keeping you so long, rather than assuming the worst."

"Well, I'll say it again – the idea of searching for this Johnson fellow sounded way less stupid in my head today than it did speaking it out loud to you two tonight on the couch," I remind her. "The absurdity was only cemented by the reaction from the two of you."

"Does the thought of not knowing the truth still bother you?"

Out of pure reflex, I shrug, turning my head to look up at the sky again. "I guess nothing has really changed, so it's not gonna keep me up at night. It's a mystery I'd like to uncover, but I know that will likely never happen, for better or worse."

"In that case – what keeps you up at night? A strong pull from the moon and stars like your closest show counterpart?"

"I'm trying to decide whether that whole comment was meant as a joke, or if you're actually asking me," I reply, turning to her.

Starla's lips are pursed into the slightest inkling of a grin. "Which question are you referring to?" she deflects, continuing to play coy this evening.

It's a thought borne of pure desperation, but I figure it's better to answer the easier question first. Maybe by some stroke of luck, it will be enough to distract her from the other.

"I don't know jack squat about astronomy. It's all just pretty lights in the sky to my eyes," I concede. "Hell, night and day really doesn't make a difference to me. But I have to say, it is nice that at night, we don't have to endure the heat and the blazing sun. And I guess previously, I did prefer the night. That was the only time I could really wander around the junkyard without fear of being discovered."

"I was just curious. You seemed pretty focused on the sky – I thought maybe that was a little passion you kept secret. It is very pretty out tonight."

All I can do is nod, knowing by that short and sweet response from Starla, I've only delayed the inevitable by a few minutes at most. I better come up with something that sounds less awful than... well, what it is.

"Are you sure you're okay, Mid?" Starla's voice is no longer hiding the concern that's brought her outside in the first place. That same tone does nothing but fill me with more guilt. I should have ventured out further into the yard, in case she came out here.

"Something making it seem like I'm not fine? I can't sleep, but other than that..." I trail off, knowing full well I didn't sell that well enough to get off the hook.

"Well, you said you couldn't sleep, and you are sorta locked onto the sky even though you said you didn't have much interest in it..." Starla trails off, leaving me with an overwhelming urge to finally look at her again – and it's one that I can't ignore for long. The upbeat and optimistic visage is gone; the mare sitting next to me now has a somber face, her ears drawn back as she anxiously awaits some other sign from me.

Now I know how John feels when I give him sad eyes in order to get my way. But in this case, I don't think Starla is forcing the look. Unless I want to sit here and ignore my friend, I have to be honest. Even if I don't know how to properly word it without coming off hurtful.

"Alright, there is something bothering me. I just don't know how to say it," I exhale, shaking my head. "I'm not very good with words or explaining my feelings anyway, but – well, this is even more complicated than that."

"I'm here to listen, not to judge. Whatever's on your mind – well, it's not helping you to dwell on it."

"It's... it's you, Starla," I mumble, unable to continue before Starla winces at my short statement. "It's not you as in I have a problem with you, it's just that - I'm kind of realizing how shit I am compared to you. You're perfect, and I'm just a damaged mess."

"Midnight, I-I'm not perfect," she stammers, mouth agape as she reaches toward my foreleg. "And you aren't shit or a damaged mess. I don't - why? Why do you think that?"

"Star, you have a great personality - you and John hit it off right away. You can read people and empathize with them, you know how to reach out to em, like me right now," I blurt out, letting my thoughts flow freely now with the dam cracked open. "You can cook, you can read - you're far smarter than I assumed ponies could be. Outside of eight hours or so in a day where I can tear apart cars, reel off automotive knowledge, or even mow through a book - what am I? Not to be punny, but I'm sort of a one-trick pony. And I'm terrible with other ponies or people, whether it be helping them out with their own problems or even putting what I'm thinking into words that make sense and aren't just featherless darts liable to hurt someone. I guess in the back of my mind, I always knew where I faltered - but today, beside you, witnessing how you are - I realize how far off I really am. How lost and maladjusted I am."

Unloading all of that baggage onto the pony I'm referring to, I swallow hard, trying to rid myself of a sudden wave of nausea. With the end of my tirade, a void of silence fills the air. Starla just sits there, wide-eyed once again as I've unleashed a whole mess of thoughts all at once. Rather than wait, I bow my head in shame.

"I'm not blaming you, I'm sorry if it sounded like that. I didn't know how to explain myself or my feelings in a better way other than a direct comparison. I don't have hard feelings toward you for any of that... it's just the cold hard facts."

I feel the bench seat shifting as the springs within start to creak in protest. I don't have to look up - I can sense Starla shuffling up beside me even before her shoulder touches mine. "Midnight, you aren't shit, and this isn't a competition."

"I know it's not. That wasn't what I meant by it."

"It seems like it by how you're comparing yourself to me," Starla protests as her hoof reaches under my chin and goads me to look up. "We come from completely different backgrounds and circumstances - of course we're going to be different."

"So that changes what I said?"

Much to my surprise and overwhelming confusion, a smile spreads across Starla's face once again. "You know you apologized to me just now, right?"

"Yeah... what about it?"

"When I first met you, a gesture like that would probably have been below you. You were pretty harsh, and from what John has told me, that attitude was in fact an improvement over the first day he met you," she explains, pausing for a slight chuckle. "Oh, and before we go any farther, you have John's heart. I couldn't woo him away even if I wanted to."

"Ugh. Why the hell does everyone think I'm jealous in that sense? I've never said anything like that!"

"I know, I know – but the way that bit about me and John hitting it off... well, it sounded a bit odd, like something was gnawing at you," she replies, clearing her throat. "But seriously – I've gotten a head start on you in basically every facet of life, Midnight. I've been out of what we can call prison for years before you got out, and I can't stress enough that I had people around me who cared at least a little bit about my well-being – physical and emotional. That's not even counting Teddy – but for you, there was this one 'Johnson' fellow that may or may not have had some sympathy for you, and that's it. You can't blame yourself for lack of experience."

"So I should just use that as an excuse?"

"Shut up and listen to me, Middie," Starla instructs in a firm voice, taking a moment to turn and put her forelegs around me as best she can for a simple hug. "It would be an excuse if you didn't try and just went on treating everyone awfully without admitting fault. But you're trying, you're making mistakes and you're apologizing – and through it all, you're learning how to interact and be pleasantly sociable. It all takes time – time that I have had to learn, adapt, and find what I enjoy in life. You – compared to me – are just starting out and forging your path and life."

"...I don't think I ever said you could hug me," I mumble, fighting off embarrassment at the attention and affection suddenly thrust upon me.

"Fortunately, I didn't ask first," she teases, poking me lightly in the side. "But no, I don't think you'll ever be like me – because I don't think it's in your nature. But that's perfectly fine – you're making improvements and adjustments, and you excel in other areas that I have not nor ever will."

"I know, reading and automotive bullshit. I already said that."

"I'm saying beyond what you already mentioned," Starla corrects me. She releases me from her embrace and scoots back just a bit on the seat, to the distance she had been during the beginning of this talk. "Do you know that I was the one who suggested Teddy bring me along for our first meeting?"

"I'm... not understanding the significance of that. I assume you have a point?"

"I do. As I said, I'm not perfect. I'm pleasant and trusting – sometimes, to a fault."

I can't help but cock my head at that comment. Part of me believes Starla is setting up some sort of farcical situation to prove... nope, it just doesn't make sense to me, now that I try to connect the dots.

"Good, I have your full attention now," she says with a slight giggle. "You see, I like meeting new people and new ponies. It is not a scenario I get to experience often and I've thrown caution to the wind on more than one occasion. Not in terms of, you know, getting caught by someone who knows what I am, but trying to help out a stranger, oftentimes a bot Teddy ends up finding. And sometimes, they don't want that - or don't trust me, however you want to put it," she explains, staring not at me, but through me. "I've been in tussles before just as a result of sticking my nose where it's not wanted, and Teddy reminded me when we left your place that first evening that I could have very well gotten myself mauled by talking to you one-on-one and pushing the wrong buttons in an attempt to get a conversation out of you."

I understand her reasoning now – but the thing that sticks with me most about that monologue is something I don't believe Starla would have anticipated. It's a foreign feeling for me – a sharp sting hearing that Teddy was that concerned regarding Starla meeting with me. Up until more recently, that sense of intimidation would have been a source of pride; now, it's just embarrassing and shameful.

Maybe it was foolhardy for Starla to trust me and talk with me one-on-one. But I'm glad she took that risk.

"I don't get to do all the things you and John do. I'll accompany Teddy to the store from time to time, go out somewhere for a walk... but we don't go anywhere unless he's been there before, knows the people," she continues, her voice taking a rather downtrodden tone. "Maybe he's a little overprotective, but at the same time, I know it's because when I'm out and about I tend to leave my inhibitions and skepticism at home - what little I have, anyway."

"Sorry, I had no idea that could really be a problem. Now I kinda feel like a dick for assuming... well, calling you perfect. Especially since it sounds like it understandably bothers you to be – uh, I guess too trusting?"

"While my point wasn't necessarily to look for sympathy, I appreciate the thought, Mid," Starla answers. "My point is flaws are only flaws based on how you look at them. Sometimes, they can be a boon; in your case, while that skepticism might seem harsh, it goes a long way to making you wary and guarded about what you share and who you talk to. On the flipside, you now see how my 'perk' can be detrimental – even a genuine flaw."

"You know, I thought you had lost your mind when you started down this road trying to convince me we're both sorta two sides of the same coin, but it actually makes sense," I admit.

"I was hoping I could put that all together and have it make sense," Starla says, breathing a sigh of relief. "It's sort of funny how we do kind of complement each other, opposites in more than a few of our strengths and weaknesses. Maybe that's why we connect – my positivity balances out your realistic outlook. My light to your dark."

"Well, now it sounds like you're trying to connect us to the show," I laugh. "You saying I'm the Nightmare to your Celestia?"

"No, Nightmare is too extreme for you," Starla scoffs. "Just... maybe a bit of her mixed in with Luna. Kind of a hybrid."

"My noggin has the combination of Twilight and Luna in it, so I'm already kind of a hybrid," I remind her. "Am I a hybrid of a hybrid? How does that work?"

It's a stupid comment, but somehow, it gets Starla started on a bout of giggles she fights to stifle – in fact, far too strong for that to be of my doing. "What's got you all of a sudden?"

"Nothing," she murmurs, trying to straighten up.

"I'm calling bullshit."

"It's... well, with Twilight and Luna, are you... Tuna?"

"Ew, what's wrong with you?! That's terrible!" I gasp, forcing an exaggerated gagging gesture.

Starla shuffles forward in order to give me a light shove. "Was it the pun or the idea of the food?"

"Both. They're both disgusting, Star."

"Aww, guess that means you probably have no interest in my tuna casserole recipe. "

"Yeah, I'm gonna have to pass on that."

Starla hums in amusement as she rises to her hooves and drops back onto the sand. "I don't know about you, but I'm beat. Today was fun, but exhausting – sleep sounds great. Hopefully, I was able to help you out a little bit?"

"Yeah, I feel like I'm a little lighter in a sense. Feels like you were able to solve some puzzles I was dwelling on," I admit while repeating her motions from a moment ago. "I might be able to get some sleep now."

"Then let's head inside and call it a night... little sis." The last two words of her comment come out quieter than the rest, spoken with a bit of awkward hesitation.

It's an odd addition, but... it's sort of amusing to me, as well.

"'Little sis', huh?"

It's a trigger that Starla is awaiting, for she pirouettes on the spot to face me, sporting an eager smile and a gleam in her eye, not there just a moment ago. "Sure, why not? Neither of us has family other than our boys. And I feel like I've sort of been the older sibling, trying to teach you the ropes from what I've learned through experience."

I can't deny there's a part of me that thinks it sounds really cheesy. But, she brings up a couple of good points – and I have to believe with how quick and concise her response was, this has been an idea she's been waiting to spring for a little while now.

Sisters... is there really any reason to say no to that?

"Alright, sis. Lead the way. I'm ready for some shuteye."

At once, Starla squees while rushing and throwing herself into me for a hug. Any awkwardness from using the term or hearing it evaporates upon seeing Star so thrilled with the gesture – and I can't help but crack a smile myself.

Family. That's never been something I've given thought to. But it has a nice ring to it.