The grey clouds hung uncomfortably over the solitary rock farm. Even the air had a uniquely dry smell to it; so thick you could taste it. Inkie Pie was thankful enough for the light breeze that distracted her from such an atmosphere.
She had enjoyed the train ride in from Ponyville like she always did, but she did not enjoy traveling alone. Mother always traveled with Inkie, regardless of if the adventure was planned or not. When Inkie worked the rock fields, Mother came along too.
Inkie had reached the last few steps before reaching the entrance of the Pie family home. Many of her most memorable times here were traveling along this trail, and every complaint she made about her tormented hooves. Happy memories were welcome for this sort of situation, because she did not look forward to many of her tasks ahead, even if it meant seeing those near and dear to her.
"Mom?" Inkie called over her knocking, "Pinkie?"
"Inkie? Is that you?" A muffled voice called from inside, "Come on in! Door's open!"
Taking the invitation, Inkie swung the door open. Even for as simply colored as the walls were, the contrast was blinding from the gray exterior. She quickly undid her striped scarf and hung it on the same hook she only ever occupied. Life changed very little here, which while reassuring, bothered Inkie.
Rather than distract herself with more memories, she decided to get straight to business. Mother was rarely found outside her rocking chair in recent years, and her many crochet projects occupied a living room very few used. Getting to the living room meant a long trip down a hall littered with memories, and more smiles. Even though nobody made an effort to greet her, that made her feel much more at home than being pampered would.
"Welcome home dear, is everything alright?" Mother asked. Old age had mutilated her voice into a wheeze, one of the many effects of being on a dry field every day of your life. As predicted, she was in her chair, with a crochet blanket draped on her lap.
Inkie smiled, "Yes mom, everything is okay. Where's Pinkie?"
Just as she opened her mouth to reply, there was a loud crash in the kitchen, probably pots and pans.
"She's in the kitchen. You ought to stay for dinner, Ponyville isn't next door you know," She answered as she sunk into her rocking chair. As far as Inkie could remember, this was late for mother.
The mention of Ponyville made her wince, and after giving her mother a nod, she headed into the kitchen. Much thicker than the smell of barren rock fields was the smell of the soup Pinkie had on the burner; a pleasant, wafting smell of steamed vegetables. Inkie still dreaded this moment, even if she was in it, but this was how it had to be.
"Inkie! It's good to see you in one whole piece!" Pinkie grinned with intensely wide eyes, throwing her forelegs around her sister.
Her own feelings about being home choked Inkie up, but then replied, "Good to see you too, big sis."
Pinkie quickly pulled away in order to stop the soup from burning; she never stopped smiling. It was predictably lonely even with just Mother, and of course Blinkie had moved out. Inkie had still lived here when her Father died, but it was a memory she had moved off of a long time ago.
"Will you be staying for dinner? Ponyville is an awful ways away, you oughta rest your hoovsies!" Pinkie said, continuing to stir.
"Actually," Inkie began, "I'm a little concerned about mom, is she sleeping enough? She's still up and it's very late."
Pinkie frowned, "I know, but work ran so late tonight! She can't make dinner, she's too old."
"Work running late? It's a rock farm, they aren't going anywhere."
She paused from stirring the soup, "You don't remember? I've been running an extra job at the diner since Dad died?" Pinkie resumed her stirring, staring at her confused reflection inside the pot, "Every chance I get, I run extra hours for overtime. Mom understands, it's just a sacrifice we all gotta make, y'know?"
Inkie nodded. The knobs on the stovetop clicked, and from an overhead cabinet she lowered three bowls to the counter. Pinkie filled one and balanced it on her backside, walking into the living room and leaning it onto a side table for mother.
Mother weakly waved the bowl away, "I won't eat it, Inkie needs to."
"Inkie has her own bowl, please eat," said Pinkie with a sigh. A stern attitude wasn't something she took easily to, but her tone was so fluent it had been used many times around the home; Inkie recognized it as her own.
"I'm not hungry," Mother commanded, "in fact, I'm going to bed now. If you want to really help, walk me up."
Pinkie made another heavy sigh, but Inkie intervened. With a gentle tug, the pastel pink blanket slipped off of the chair and Mother could be eased out with help.
"I guess you really need your rest. We'll put your bowl in the fridge for lunch?" Inkie offered, gently stepping towards the bedroom.
Mother frowned, but complied with a fragile pace. Pinkie returned the bowl to her backside and disappeared into the kitchen, keeping a placid expression. Floorboards creaked noisily through the empty halls of the home, while Inkie offered encouragement. In a quick balancing act, the door opened and the lamp clicked on, while Mother continued to lean on Inkie.
It was late into the night now, and Mother had been prepared to go straight to sleep in her beige nightgown for some time. Mother eased herself into the bed with fragile grace, and Inkie pulled the sheets over her.
"Your sister takes too long sometimes, it's her fault I'm too tired to eat," said Mother. "Bless you for visiting, you're a wonderful sight for sore eyes."
"Well, dinner is still hot. I'm sure you can eat quickly before sleep," said Inkie with a faint smile. The situation wasn't really based on anything rational, and Inkie was far too glad to let it slide by.
"Just make sure breakfast is wonderful," Mother smiled. "Off to bed, good night! Don't stay up too late, Pinkie can set up your old room to stay overnight."
"That won't be necessary, good night!" Inkie whispered, before slowly closing the door.
Inkie turned to face the hallway, and with a quick and strengthening breath, she hoped she was ready. The hardest part of the evening was undoubtedly necessary, but it was still hard. As if she was guiding Mother again, she took careful footsteps, organizing her thoughts.
Back in the living room, the scene had scarcely changed. Pinkie Pie had decided to hide out in the kitchen at a small dining table in the back. Her soup was half empty, but she had stopped to stir it's contents meticulously. Even when Inkie slid the chair out, the loud shudder did not disturb Pinkie's locked gaze.
"You didn't say what brought you out here, did you?" Pinkie mused, brushing a bit of flattened pink hair from her eyes as she gazed back up.
"I was just getting to that," Inkie began. She leaned in to the table, before stating her business, "Do you ever think it's weird that Blinkie and I moved out and you didn't?"
Pinkie blinked, thinking of her other younger sister who had also moved away, "I don't think about it a lot, no."
Her eye twitched, she was lying.
"What do you know about Ponyville?" Inkie asked this time.
"I know you live there, and you've got a steady job and friends there."
Inkie bit her lip. "What if I told you I don't live in Ponyville?"
"But you do?" Pinkie said, squinting her eyes in confusion. This wasn't any part of the conversation she expected, even if she did have little expectations to begin with.
"No I don't, you do."
Both mares locked eyes, waiting for the other to make a move, but neither did. Pinkie could read Inkie incredibly well, and paused for the joke to end when she didn't let on any signs of doubt.
"Noooo," said Pinkie, breaking the silence, "I live on the rock farm, you live in Ponyville."
"I'm not supposed to live in Ponyville, you are. I'm supposed to live here with Mom," Inkie explained. Pinkie wasn't buying it, nor would she ever. A sharp pain of guilt rose in Inkie's stomach, and as she grasped for a solution the conversation reached a silent stand-still.
"Is everything okay sis? This is a teensy bit-"
"I need to explain something, it's very important," she said, desperately cutting off Pinkie before she exposed her own self-doubt. Pinkie stopped, and listened with a less skeptical expression. With a brief intake of breath, Inkie began her story:
"Where I come from, I sold the farm and moved away with Mom a long time ago. I work at a diner like you do, and we live very separate lives. You live in Ponyville, run Sugarcube Corner, and maintain your large circle of friends. When Nightmare Moon returned, you fought alongside Twilight Sparkle as the Element of Laughter. Your sole goal in life is to make others smile."
Pinkie blinked incredulously. "But none of that happened!"
"That's the tricky part," Inkie sighed. "You see, I was visited by a stranger who had to tell me my life was miserable, even if I wouldn't admit it. He wasn't even a pony, he was like a donkey-dragon-chicken or something, but he gave me one wish."
The air in the room stopped. Pinkie's eyes would probably never be wider with anticipation.
"Out of jealousy, I asked for your life," said Inkie.
Pinkie shifted uncomfortably in her chair. She quickly gathered her now stone-cold soup and got up to wash it. Inkie stared at where she had just been, believing every word she had just said with a tinge of regret. Before she could try and soften words already said, Pinkie had something to say.
"Jokes are supposed to be funny, Inkie, and that was not funny. You can't actually believe that, can you? " Pinkie asked. Her insides were cut, making searching for the words she always had impossible. "That can't be true, you can't prove it!"
"This isn't easy to say, but this is the only way I can fix it," Inkie quietly replied.
Confusion and sadness turned to a boil inside Pinkie, "Fix it? Oh, suddenly you have magic, huh? Hope you didn't wish for a sense of humor, because I just love being reminded of how AWESOME my life just HAPPENS to be!"
Pinkie began to choke for air, filled with thought, before sliding her head onto the table and weeping. She had been maintaining a great lie, and now she knew it didn't improve any reality she had. Without hesitation, Inkie rushed to her side to comfort her, and took her into a tight hug.
Pinkie Pie continued to cry for sometime, before settling into sniffles and red eyes. Even if she was knee deep into her own mess, Inkie had to finish had to finish.
"Pinkie, you know I would never do this kind of prank," Inkie whispered reassuringly, "you were always the best at that sort of thing."
The small kernel of Pinkie's usual self returned a smile. It disappeared just as soon as it had arrived.
"Why would you tell me this?" mumbled Pinkie in reply. "You actually think this happened?"
"Even if you don't believe me, I can prove it," Inkie began, resuming her explanations while holding Pinkie at an arms length in the middle of the kitchen. This got Pinkie's attention.
"The stranger sent me here a week ago, but it was today when he first visited me in my world, so I could see how radically different things would be for me. That week ends today, and I suspect he will visit you instead of myself," Inkie explained, before making sure her point made it across. "Pinkie, I need you to wish for your life in Ponyville back, and stop any of this from happening."
Pinkie gave a strange yet understanding look, before nodding. She still remained distant, and Inkie would just have to accept that.
"Are you going to be okay?" asked Inkie.
"Yes indeedy," Pinkie answered, the small kernel surfacing once more, "I'll believe you, but I'm going to be asking a few questions if it doesn't work."
"That's perfectly fine," Inkie replied, punctuating with a yawn. "If you'll excuse me, I think I need my sleep. He'll only visit you if you're alone anyway, can I have my room back?"
"Yep! Should be about the same as you left it," Pinkie said smiling, the last of her tears evaporated.
With a nod, Inkie made her way up the staircase, eager for Pinkie to take care of her task. The door was quickly shut, coupled with the silent anticipation of the stranger's arrival. It was over now, and Inkie could just blob on her old mattress and know that everything would be alright in a matter of minutes. The feeling of stress relieved felt unnatural, but a welcome feeling.
She closed her eyes, trying for the time that she had left to feel content. In a moment, she would be back to her miserable life, but it would be okay, because Pinkie would be away from her misery. Mother was much healthier in the natural timeline as well, and frankly Inkie could handle Mother much better than Pinkie could; Mother was not someone Pinkie could cheer up as easily as the others.
At long last, exhaustion gripped the mare, and she began to snore. Rest assured, when she awoke Inkie's world would be fixed for the better. Downstairs, there were reassuringly foreign voices talking.
***
Nothing had happened, and Inkie couldn't figure out why. She woke up in her own room, exactly like she slept, and still appeared the same as she had when she slept. Throwing off the sheets and a bristling fear, she was down the stairs in a flash.
The kitchen and living room were completely empty, leaving one last option before the possibility of Inkie being left behind: Pinkie's bedroom. In case Mother was still sleeping, she snuck past the door and into her sister's before silently shutting the door. Beneath the sheets, Pinkie slowly opened her eyes.
"Did anything happen?" Inkie asked cautiously.
Pinkie locked up, not knowing how to address her own explanation; Inkie could easily relate. She slid off a pink blanket that matched Mother's, and sat up to face Inkie, who then proceeded to sit beside her. With a huff of air, she began:
"The stranger came, I believe you now," whispered Pinkie.
Inkie was far too impatient, and deeper inside worried, before asking, "What happened? Did you fix it? What did you say?"
"Ink, I can't take away the one thing that has made you the happiest, I just can't. I didn't ask for anything," Pinkie sighed.
"No."
Pinkie continued to stare down at the sheets. A small seed of fear began to take root, her mind reeling in the small time before her response and continually wondering what it would be. Through the corner of her eye, Pinkie saw her sister's rage.
"You couldn't have," Inkie fumed. "You did not... you can't have! No no no!"
She sidestepped with eyes forced shut, and her shoulder landed on the wall beside her. The tears fell away freely, as she burst into an all-consuming, absolute despair. Mother be damned, the choking squeak of her pain would not stay beneath her stone grey features.
"PINKIE NO! I offered you a life! The life you were meant to have! Please, take it back!" She cried out.
"I'm sorry Inkie, but there isn't anything I can do," Pinkie said, now at her side, "I love you far too much. My life is perfect here, where you're happy. It's done now, you need to be happy knowing your life is everything you could have ever wanted."
Pinkie was right; she would always love too much, it was what Inkie always envied. What she had done to Pinkie would be a scar never forgotten, and now Pinkie had one to match. Both mares would regret, but both kept their sister.
"I'm sorry sis, I really did it this time," said Inkie, finally strong enough to look her in the eye; both mares were stained with tears.
"You know I forgive you," Pinkie winked.
Despite failure, Inkie felt something rise in her chest. Whatever it was, it was warm and profound.
"I really have the best sister in the world, don't I?" Inkie said with a smile.
"I'm just glad you visited," replied Pinkie, who also was smiling. "That was worth the price of admission for sure."
