As Gears Unwind and Sands do Fall
He was still so warm…
How could he be gone?
She stared down at the stallion wrapped up under her wing as her vision blurred with thick, sticky tears. He looked so peaceful at her side, as if he were merely sleeping. Slowly, lifted a hoof to stroke his tousled mane from his face and carefully took in every detail. He was much more handsome than he gave himself credit for: his jaw was strong, eyes carefully lined with stress and insomnia, and even in death, his mouth was curled into a slight smile.
Out of all the ponies… of all the ponies out there who didn’t deserve death… It had claimed this sweet, gentle stallion as her own far before his time. He had been healing, too—he was getting better, Zecora said so…! And now he was gone…
She knew so little about his past, she only knew what he quietly presented to her, but as she sat in his tent with his body cradled to her side, his story unwound before her. Faded photos of a young colt, wearing goggles that were much too large for him, and his father were carefully arranged in a worn, leather book; occasionally, a beautiful portrait of a mare would appear. His mother—he looked like his mother. The dark mane, startling blue eyes… He was with her now, with all of his family. Soon, father and mother vanished from the images, and the young colt would be seen with an elderly unicorn, who had a sad, yet sweet, look on her face whenever she looked at him. Between the pages of images were wedged three gravestone rubbings that Time Turner had pain-stakenly done before he left his Trottingham home for a new life in Ponyville.
He had been raised to be the sweetest, saddest, most wonderful stallion. New tears bubbled up as she stumbled across an unfinished page. Turner was beaming beside a young mare, who was curled against his side flirtatiously—it took her a few minutes to realize that these were engagement photos, and as she turned the page, a worn letter and ring fell out of the binding. She felt an anger bubble up inside her and she held the empty shell tighter to her side. Derpy couldn’t bring herself to read it herself, but the ring and the strict way Time Turner’s name headed the page, she knew that this piece of paper had caused him more heartache than he deserved.
Forcing her attention from the album, her eyes wandered around the room, head dropping to Time Turner’s. Her daughter spent so much time in here and spoke of it as a wonderland—and she was right. Gears glistened across a make-shift desk, littered with tools and blueprints. Careful sketches were pinned up with love on the tent sides: many of them were of Dinky and Pip as they sprawled and played within his tent. Sparkler often joined them when her time allowed; she too spoke fondly of the clock maker they had all taken a liking to.
Derpy’s heart broke all over as the pictures took a turn and focused on a singular subject: her. Her crossed-eyes became endearing and looked beautiful when he rendered them.
“Mister Time Turner likes you a lot, Mommy,” Dinky had often told her when she was tucked into bed. How often had she simply taken this as wishful thinking of a young foal who yearned for a father? How many smiles and “That’s nice” comments had fallen out of her mouth while this stallion had silently adored her? No, not only her—he had adored her daughter and god-child. The girls loved him and he had become the first name that was said when they were asked who should watch them when she was called out on missions.
“Mommy? Da—Time Turner. Wants to know if you can come talk to him today—he says it’s ‘portant.”
And it was. It was so important. Derpy squeezed her eyes shut before she looked down at him and carefully held his head against her shoulder as she nuzzled into his mane, new tears rolling down her face.
“You came,” he had whispered, head lifting up a slight from his pillow in surprise. He had degraded significantly since she had seen him walking around with Pip’s help only yesterday. His eyes looked worn, almost dull, but they lit up slightly when he saw her.
“Of course—Dinky said it was very important.”
Turner coughed and winced before he rested his head back on the pillow with a slight groan. “Do you need me to get Zecora--?”
“No. No… she… was already here.” Silence settled as she quickly glanced around—she took note of the goggles laying at the bedside. Trembling scrawl had them labeled For Dinky. She frowned lightly and then looked at the stallion again.
“Then… what do you—oh no…” Realization dawned with a hard punch and he weakly smiled at her, fear shining in his eyes as he nodded.
“… y-yeah… I… didn’t… want the kids to be here… but… I don’t want to… be alone.”
He had asked for her—her specifically to be there with him while he died, so he wouldn’t have to face it alone. She stared at him and the various bite scars that coated his face and what she could see of his body. “But… you can’t be—y-you were getting better, I saw you--!”
His gaze dropped and he sighed quietly. “It… didn’t kill all the venom... There was—” he stopped to try to even his breathing, and she inched closer, softly resting her hoof on his. “… w-was too much of.. it… and…” Derpy nodded and looked closely at him, expecting him to meet her gaze.
Time Turner was staring at their hooves, some color returning to his face.
Oh.
Oh…
Her brain scrambled, trying to fathom what she had just understood as he carefully shifted his hoof to hold hers.
“Time Turner…” she had started, but hesitated as he gasped quietly, trying to keep his lungs working properly for another few minutes. Her eyes glistened and she shifted closer, resting her weight on the bed softly as she looked down at him. “… ‘sokay—it’ll be okay… easy now,” she soothed, brushing his cheek carefully with her other hoof.
“I… i—“ he whimpered, trying to control his dying body. Derpy nodded encouragingly and held his hoof closer while he tried to get the words up. She knew what was coming, but it did little to help with the shock and pain that overwhelmed her when the words finally were choked out.
“I love you…”
She wept, forehead dropping on his as she played the conversation through her head over and over. His weak pleas for her to let the children know he loved them, too—again telling her he loved her before his struggle ended and he went still in her hold. Derpy’s shoulders heaved as she clutched him closer, every inch of her aching in pain.
Dinky’s father walking out had hurt. Being a single mother was difficult. Seeing her little girl struggle in this world of war was hell.
But this.
This hurt more than anything.
“C-come back,” she begged, tears soaking his mane. “C-come b-back…!”
They never had a chance—she wanted to know what loving him would feel like, what it would feel like to have someone accepted her and her family without a second thought, what her daughter having a father would be like--!
He didn’t deserve this! He died saving the children! He deserved to be happy—not this! Not only being able to reveal deeply rooted feelings only as he was about to be sucked away from everything—!
“Come, child,” Zecora’s soothing, sorrowed voice broke through her tears, a hoof settling on her shoulder. “
“H-he loved m-me! H-he loved the girls—he-!” she choked as Zecora softly pulled her from Time Turner’s body and into her chest. She wept bitterly and embraced the zebra tightly.
“… A strong, loving gentlecolt, who kept his feelings under a tight bolt,” she whispered. “… could only give his soul to those made of the purest gold.”
Derpy sobbed.
