//------------------------------// // Chapter Three-Not Forgotten // Story: Chasing Dreams // by Final Draft //------------------------------// The bedside clock chimed, indicating eight o’clock and Dream Chaser slowly opened his eyes. He’d spent the rest of the night on the floor and not one part of his body appreciated it. As he stood up, his joints and muscles shifted painfully and he limped toward the bathroom. He nearly tripped over his memory box, which still laid out on the floor, the picture of him looking at his cutie mark topping a pile of pictures next to it. His mother’s mirror was much less forgiving in the light, and as he walked past it, he had to look away from his reflection. The cracked mirror in the bathroom gave him just a glimpse, and that was bad enough. Each of his reflections had bags under their eyes and their manes were a mess, sticking out in odd places. He grabbed the pill container off the sink and shook it, not hearing the clicking noise of the capsules usually inside. He had known they were gone before he even got to the bathroom. The idea of going into public to get his refill sat uneasily in his empty stomach. He let the empty container fall to the floor and turned on the shower tap. Much like the faucet, it shook before a stream of rusty water dribbled out of the head. It usually took about a minute for the heater to kick in and the water to clear, but Dream Chaser didn’t wait, walking into the cold stream of dirty water and closing his eyes. It flowed over him uncomfortably and he started shivering, making the pain in his joints worse. He blindly reached for the shower knob and turned it all the way to the right causing the water heater to activate. Slowly the temperature of the water rose and he adjusted it to a bearable setting. The convulsions in his legs stopped and he sat down to groom himself. While he sat there lathering his coat and getting the knots out of his mane, a stupid little memory forced its way to the front of his mind. They had just gotten the apartment, him and Dream Catcher that is, and she had gone in to take a shower. He was doing push ups in the living room, waiting for his turn, when she poked her head out the bathroom door. “The stupid shower doesn’t work,” she said, pouting her lips. He stood up and walked into the bathroom past her. The shower head was dribbling blobs of rust colored water and shaking violently. He tried banging on it with his hoof to no avail then tried adjusting the knobs left and right. The water stopped completely and he scratched his head. “I’ll talk to the landlord about it,” he said without looking up. “Go see if Mrs. Shaker will let you use hers until then.” She sighed, already knowing he wasn’t going to talk to the landlord, already knowing he would try to fix it himself. He had a sort of selfish pride when it came to asking for help. Dream Catcher grabbed a towel off the drying rack, wrapped it around herself and walked out of the bathroom. He heard the apartment door open, then close, and he looked to make sure she was gone before setting to work. It only took him unscrewing the shower head to find the problem. A dead rat had been forced up against the filter after finding its way into the water line. He shook it out into the trash can, reattached the shower head, and turned the knobs. Clean water flowed out, sending up steam as it hit the porcelain, and Dream Chaser applauded himself at his handiwork. Not wanting to waste the opportunity, he stepped in the shower and began lathering his mane. He closed his eyes and listened to the hissing of the water, not hearing the apartment door open and close. “The landlord works fast,” Dream Catcher said. She was standing in the doorway of the bathroom looking at him. He rubbed the soap from his eyes and looked at her. She still had the towel wrapped around her and her mane was still a mess. “Mrs. Shaker wasn’t home…but I guess that’s a good thing,” she said, walking slowly towards him, swinging her hips intentionally, letting the towel fall off her as she strode toward him. He found himself staring at her dream catcher cutie mark. “I’ll be done in a second,” Dream Chaser said, blushing and trying to get the rest of the soap out of his mane. She clearly had no intention of taking turns and crossed the threshold of the shower. He tried to make room for her, but she had no regard for personal space, pushing her figure up against his. She centered herself in the stream of water and it drenched her mane. She rested her head on his shoulder and looked up at him, her emerald eyes saying more than words could, and he at last understood. She wanted to— The water was now ice cold and Dream Chaser realized the water heater had shut off. He turned the knobs to the left and sat in the shower drip-drying for a few minutes, forcing the memory back into his subconscious. Once it was locked away, he shook himself dry and combed his mane. If nothing else, he looked better. After a quick breakfast of dry oats, he limped into his room. The box of memories still sat on the floor with the few pictures he’d removed next. He thought about sealing it and kicking it back under the bed for another year. Instead, he walked around it to his closet. Inside his closet was a long trench coat he wore whenever he went outside, regardless of the season because it covered the scars on his flanks. He threw it on, grabbed his key and coin pouch, gave the box one last look, and left the apartment. As he locked the front door, he could hear the idle chit-chat of the ponies waiting at the coach stop in front of the apartment complex. He slipped the key into one of his pockets and made his way to the back of the group. They glanced at him as he joined them and he took to staring down at his hooves, avoiding eye contact and conversation. He listened as they talked about petty things, like the weather and Canterlot politics, not really anything that concerned him until— “Did you hear? The Equestria Games are going to be held in the Crystal Empire this year,” a yellow unicorn mare commented, causing Dream Chaser to look up from his hooves. “I thought they weren’t going to hold it there anymore,” a blue unicorn stallion replied. “Not after what happened last time.” The other ponies nodded, remembering what they had heard or seen of Dream Chaser. He shifted uncomfortably, wishing the coach would show up before any of the ponies recognized him. “They never found out who did it, did they?” an older earth pony mare asked, getting the sad shaking of heads as a response. “I know who did it.” “We all know who did it,” the blue unicorn stallion snorted. After a brief silence the conversation switched to something about apple prices and Dream Chaser tuned them out. He knew who was responsible too. Or at least he thought he did. He didn’t want to think about it. When the coach showed up being pulled by four large stallions, he gladly boarded and took his usual seat in the back. He pressed his head against the glass and closed his eyes as the coach was led through the city, making two additional stops before reaching the shopping district. At the second stop, there were several ponies waiting to board the already crowded coach. Dream Chaser listened to the sound of hoof beats and felt the coach sink with the addition of weight. Knowing the seat next to him was empty, it came to no surprise when he felt a tap on his shoulder. “Excuse me, sir, but is this seat taken?” He opened his eyes to see a young mare standing in the aisle looking at him. He thought it a bit odd a Pegasus was taking public transportation, taking up a seat typically reserved for earth ponies and unicorns. “No, no,” he replied and slid closer to the window, sending a jolt of pain through his legs. He tried to mask the pain with a smile as she sat next to him and the coach lurched into motion. He went back to staring out the window and he could feel the mare’s eyes on him. When he turned to look, she was in the process of looking away, realizing she was staring. It’s not like he wasn’t used to it. She coughed awkwardly and opened up a newspaper she had been carrying under her wing. Her eyes scanned the newspaper, not really reading anything, just a precaution if he happened to look over at her and catch her staring again. After the second occurrence of eye contact, she blushed and took to actually reading the paper. It was a slow news day and she skipped over most of the articles. Apple prices had soared, sex scandals in Canterlot, the upcoming Equestria Games… all topics that had been excessively covered the past week by every news purveyor in Equestria. She absentmindedly flipped through the pages until a picture caught her eye. It was of a gold stallion with a red mane smiling as he crossed a finish line. The headline for the article containing the picture read, “Equestria Games’ Darkest Moments.” She lowered the paper so she could see both the picture and Dream Chaser, comparing the similarities and reaching the conclusion she’d hoped for. “I knew you were Dream Chaser!” the Pegasus mare shouted, startling Dream Chaser, as well as half the ponies on the bus. They turned to look at him, murmuring his name, trying to remember what importance it held. He wanted to run, like he used to be able to, to get away from these ponies and the awkwardness. A strange sensation ran up his leg and he turned to see the mare next to him lifting the flap on his trench coat, exposing the scars he was covering. “Hey!” he shouted, slapping at her hoof and trying to cover himself back up. She withdrew and looked at him apologetically. “I’m sorry—it’s just—I-I’m sorry,” she stammered. Dream Chaser could feel the eyes upon him and hear the conversations starting. “Is that really him?” “I thought he died.” “Why did Nova Star do it?” “Nova Star…” The coach came to a stop and Dream Chaser leapt from his seat, crossing in front of the Pegasus and face-planting painfully to the floor. He felt the blood running through his nostrils and he struggled to his hooves. Through the tears in his eyes, he could see the other passengers’ faces. They looked at him with concern and pity; a couple had even rushed forward to help him, but he shrugged them off. Trailing blood and shame, he limped off the coach and into the street, nearly bumping into the many ponies trying to board. He hobbled up the street, leaving the ponies he passed looking back with concern and confusion. Once his nose stopped bleeding, he slowed to take a rest– his legs very unhappy with what he had just put them through. The supermarket was less than a block away. All he wanted was to just get his medication and go home. He gritted his teeth and walked through the pain, literally dragging his rear left leg after the knee had locked up. The automatic doors slid open as he stepped on the pressure pad and a strong breeze blew through his mane, generated by the industrial fans above. He stood there for a moment, enjoying the sensation, closing his eyes and imagining he was running.