Darkened Sky

by GreysonWest

Chapter 2

As my brother and I approached the hospice care building, I was struck by the overwhelming urge to turn and gallop away. I hated hospitals to begin with, as evidenced by the nasty scars across my eye and chest, but this one also housed my father. He was extremely sick, heart problems if Stormbreaker was telling me the truth. The doctors had said that he only had a few more weeks to live, and the best they could do was make him comfortable. It wasn't going to be easy. I mean, the last time I'd seen him had been twenty years ago, the day he... well, you know that story by now.

I let out a long breath, then said "I have this feeling, like, this is a really bad idea." My brother turned and gave me an oblique look. I eyed him for a moment, but he just shook his head.

"Father called for you specifically. Get over yourself and get in there," he said sternly.

"Yeah, yeah," I replied. "I'm goin'."

"I'll be over in the park whenever you're done. You can find me there."

"Alright, thanks 'Breaker," I said to him, and nodded. Then I turned again and strode into the hospital. As hospitals go, it was, well, pretty much average. It had that stark, white look that always manages to somehow convey a feeling of both safety and quiet desperation. The smell, too, added to the effect, bringing the slightly unnerving sense of sterility with it.

I checked with the nurse's station and found out which room he was in. It wasn't that far a walk from the station, but it sure felt like one. Every step towards the room that stallion lay in felt like a triumph of my own personal willpower over my trepidation. I reached the door and found it open. I stared at the stallion in the bed, barely keeping my jaw from hitting the floor.

In my memories, my father was a huge, strong pony with stern eyes and a mouth that was set in a constant half-formed frown. He was an earth pony, if you can believe it. He'd made his living as a fisherpony, fishing up small water creatures to be sold as exotic pets to the Canterlot elite.

The stallion that lay in the bed in front of me was a far cry from the one I remembered. His frame was slight, his mane wispy and white. He was thin enough to be given consideration as a model for making classroom skeletons, and his skin was wrinkled and sections of his dark brown coat were coming off in misshapen patches.

I tried to speak, but it came out as a ragged, dry whisper. I realized that at some point a desert had developed in my throat. I coughed a bit then swallowed, and tried again.

"Hello... Whopper." At the mention of his name, he turned his face to mine and opened his eyes. They were once a vibrant greyish blue, full of life, light, and energy. Now, though, they were pale to almost white, and I could see that he was mostly blind.

"Stormbringer? That you? Come on in here, boy," he said, his voice a hoarse, low rumble. That much, at least, had stayed the same. It was at once both comforting and terrifying. That had been the voice I remembered in my dreams and nightmares.

"Yes, it's me," I answered and stepped over next to the bed. He looked me over for a moment.

"You look good, hoss. Scars. Good, musta grown up tough."

"For the most part," I admitted. "The scars are pretty recent though."

"Oh? What are you doin' with yourself now, then? Last I heard you were workin' at the weather factory in Cloudsdale," he said. That surprised me a bit. I'd assumed once I was out of the house they never bothered to check on me. I felt that ball of emotion starting to tighten my throat again, and tried to swallow it down before speaking again.

"Yeah. Up until about a month ago. Got fired." My voice came out a bit husky with the repressed emotion.

"Fired? What happened?"

"Combination of bad communication and bureaucracy in action. I'm just as much at fault as they are." He nodded, and we fell into a bit of a silence. He just lay there looking at me, and I could see several emotions in his eyes. Happiness, that he had finally gotten to see me again after all these years. Sadness, that it had taken my mother's death, and subsequently the ending of her psychic brainlock on him, for it to happen. Shame, that he had been the one to ultimately kick me out. Finally, love and pride together, for a son he believed grew up well despite everything he'd done, or in this case, been forced to do.

"I... I'm sorry, hoss. What I done to you, back then... it... it weren't right." I could tell he was getting very emotional, not because of tears, or any particular expression aside from the ones I'd already seen in his eyes, but because his accent had changed back to the older, more rural one he'd had in his youth.

I sighed. Dragging this out wouldn't be good for either of us, so I decided to cut right to it. "It wasn't your fault, father. Mother had that mental domination thing on you. It's not like anypony would have been able to shrug it off. I mean heck, her cutie mark was for psychomancy."

My father blinked. It was a small thing, but it had big implications. What I said had surprised him.

"Hoss, it's true I was under some kind of compulsion, but there's no way it coulda been from your mother. She couldn'a done psychomancy if her life had depended on it. Her cutie mark was for teachin'. Impartin' knowledge."

My eyes went wide, and I froze. Stormbreaker had been wrong? My mind reeled for a moment and I floundered. Everything I knew about this situation had been based on the idea that my mother had been the one responsible, but if she wasn't, what did that mean? I kicked my brain in the stomach until it threw up an idea. Then, all of a sudden, pieces started falling into place.

"Dad, I hate to leave so quickly, but I just realized something. This whole thing isn't over. I know who was behind it now."

He blinked at me again. "You're gonna go deal with it?" I nodded. "Then best of luck to ya, hoss. I'll uh, wait here."

I tore out of the hospital and galloped across the town at full speed, making my way to the park. I finally figured out what had happened. I knew who was behind it all. If my guess was right, I might even be able to save my father's life.

I needed to find my brother.