Button pulled himself to his hooves, wincing as the dull pain in his side suddenly sharpened. Miss Cozy glanced at him in concern, but he gave her a quick smile of reassurance before carefully stepping down from the hay cart that had ferried them and several of the other passengers to Ponyville Station.
“So,” he said brightly. “What can I show you first? Sugarcube Corner? The castle?”
She smiled at him. “You’re a sweet one, young stallion. But right now, all I want to do is find my house and have a nap.”
“Oh. Alright!”
“It was nice meeting you, Button. Good luck getting to Baltimare.”
“Nice meeting you too, Miss Cozy!”
She trotted away, and Button’s shoulders slumped. Oh, well. At least now he’d be able to catch up with Apple Bloom, and whoever else happened to be in town. First things first, though, he thought as he turned to the ticket desk. He needed to catch a train, and the sooner he could get a ticket, the better.
The train’s whistle screamed as it pulled into Ponyville Station. Even before the train had come to a complete stop, Sweetie was on her hooves, levitating her luggage down from the overhead storage compartment. She had overcome her earlier sense of gloom, now that she had actually arrived in her hometown once again.
She trotted quickly for the exit, her bags levitating behind her like a coterie of excited puppies, weaving over and around one another and bumping against the walls. They all spilled out from the doors of the train, bobbing and nudging against everything in their path. Sweetie glanced around, taking a moment to regain her bearings. And then all of the suitcases hit the floor.
“Button!” she yelled, breaking into a gallop.
“Huh?” The chocolate-brown stallion barely had time to look around before he was once again knocked to the ground by a speeding Sweetie Belle-istic missile. He found himself flat on his back, his duffel bag knocked nearly a meter across the floor, with an exuberantly grinning unicorn perched on his belly.
“What the-- Sweetie Belle? What’re you doing here?” he asked, struggling to rise to his hooves. “I mean-- it’s nice to see-- how are-- look, could you get off me?”
Sweetie giggled and hopped lightly to the floor. “Sorry, Button. Here, let me get your bag.”
As soon as she lit her horn, Button let out a startled yelp and dove to block the bag. “No! There’s a lot of delicate stuff in here, very magic sensitive. If you levitate it, you might accidentally break some of the equipment.”
“Oh! Sorry.” Sweetie said with a wince. “Nothing broke when it hit the floor, right?”
Button unzipped the bag and peered inside. “No, it looks alright,” he said after a moment’s contemplation. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“That’s alright. Sorry I almost broke… whatever you’ve got in there.”
“No harm done,” Button said, slinging the bag over his barrel once again. “I should probably find somewhere safe to put this, actually.”
He trotted for the ticket office, and Sweetie fell into step with him, levitating her bags around her once more without missing a beat. “So, what brings you back to town?” she asked.
“My train broke down on the way to Baltimare,” Button said, his face falling. “I was heading up there for a big technology showcase, so I need to get a new ticket to get there on time. What about you?”
“Just taking a few days off from music classes,” Sweetie said breezily. “Isn’t it funny how we wound up getting here at the same time?”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Button agreed. “We should catch up with Bloom while we’re here.”
“That’d be nice. What’ve you been up to, Mr. Game Designer? Make anything really fun yet?”
Button gave an awkward little smile. “Well, why did you think I was going to a tech conference?”
Sweetie’s eyes went wide. “Wait. Really? No way, I thought you’d still be interning somewhere!”
“Oh, I probably should be,” Button said, turning his attention to the ticket desk. “But all the heads of industry out there are kind of…”
“Greedy?”
“That too. I was gonna say ‘weird enough to make Pinkie look normal’.”
“Oh?”
“Remind me to tell you about ‘biohacking’ sometime. Preferably over several ciders. What about you, huh? Last I heard, you’d gotten accepted at Muilliard.”
“Mhm!” Sweetie said. “I think it’s really helped me grow as a performer.”
She paused as Button approached the counter. A technology conference. That was… just, wow. She’d always known he’d go far-- not only was he smart, he was also focused, thoughtful, and plain ol’ nice. But this? This was above and beyond her wildest expectations. She was proud of Button, that was for sure. At the same time, though, it did kind of cast her still not quite launched musical career in a harsh light. It wasn’t as if she envied his success, of course! Of course she wasn’t envious, after all, singing and programming were two wildly different fields! She was happy for him. Just a little surprised, that’s all. That’s all.
Button turned back from the counter, looking deeply relieved. “I got a ticket for tomorrow morning. I think I should get to Baltimare in time to get a pretty decent room.”
“You won’t miss your big moment, then?”
“Hope not.” Button pulled his bag a little more snugly against his body. “This could be really big, y’know? Not just for me, but for the whole gaming industry.”
“Wow. What exactly is it?” Sweetie said as the two of them made their way out into the sunshine.
“I’ll explain later, once I’ve got it all set up. I bet Bloom will wanna see it, too.”
“Okay,” Sweetie said. “Let’s go find her, then.”
Button glanced over to respond, but stopped, eyes wide. “Well, we won’t have far to look,” he said. “She’s right there!”
Apple Bloom trudged along down Ponyville’s main drag. Every now and again, someone would smile at her in greeting, and she would force a smile back, but for the most part, ponies could sense her malaise from twenty paces, and took the appropriate steps to avoid interaction.
I’m trapped here, she thought. Never quite managed to escape being the youngest Apple, the baby of the family, and everypony knows it. The only one who didn’t go into farming. The disappointment.
“Hey, Apple Bloom! Over here!”
I can see it in their eyes. The Apple who isn’t marked with an apple. The Crusader with nothing to crusade for. The last one still in Ponyville.
“Bloom! Hey! It’s great to see you! But it’d also be nice if you would see us!”
I stand alone.
In the next second, she bumped into somepony. “Hi,” said Button.
“Goldarnit, Button! Can’t you see Ah’m tryin’ ta have an internal monologue?” she grumbled. A pause as the gears in her head skipped and slid into a new position. “Button! What’re you doin’ back in town?”
“Hi! Also here!” a voice said.
Apple Bloom’s jaw dropped and she spun around. “Sweetie! Well, if this don’t beat all!” She reached up and pulled them both into a tight hug. Sweetie squealed and toppled over under the sudden force, sending all three of them tumbling to the ground.
Apple Bloom pulled herself out of the mud. “It’s so good to see y’all again!”
“So, how’s it been in Ponyville?” Rumble asked, stepping out of Sugarcube Corner.
“Eh. I only just got back myself. I’m not really up on the latest gossip,” Dinky said.
“Not really what I meant.”
“Oh?” Dinky said, waiting for him to elaborate.
Rumble took another bite of his bagel meditatively. “How are your folks?”
“Oh,” Dinky said, her voice going flat. She was silent for a moment, then shrugged. “Mom’s fine. The Doctor’s building something in the TARDIS and won’t tell anyone what it actually is, so I guess he’s fine too.”
“You’re still calling him the Doctor, huh.”
“Yeah. That’s his name.”
“You weren’t even considering calling him ‘dad’?”
“No.”
“It’s been twelve years.”
“Yeah. Your point?”
“My point is, I’ve got shitty parents. I know shitty parents. The Doctor isn’t one. He’s been trying to connect with you from the word ‘go’. All I’m saying is, it probably wouldn’t hurt to reach out just a little more.”
Dinky stayed silent. “Your life got a lot better once you let me and all the other Crusaders in,” Rumble said. “I’ll shut up about it now, but… just think about it, alright?”
“He left once before,” Dinky said bitterly. “He’ll leave again. Everyone leaves in the end.”
Rumble raised his eyebrows. “And we all die alone. That doesn’t stop ponies from living together. What’s brought this on? Even for you, this is pretty nihilistic.”
Dinky shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it right now,” she said.
Rumble scrutinized her for a long moment. Then his face softened. “Alright,” he said, only a note of trepidation still in his voice. “But when you change your mind--”
“If.”
“If you change your mind,” Rumble allowed, “just… I’m here for you, Dinky. We all are.”
Dinky looked away. “Yeah,” she said flatly. “Yeah, I know.”
Rumble frowned at her for a long moment, but hid his concern quickly when she glanced forward again.
“C’mon,” Dinky said. “We don’t want to keep the others waiting.” She gave a smile. It hardly even looked forced. “I’m so glad you’re back, Rumble,” she said, and she truly sounded sincere. Only her eyes betrayed that she was still distinctly troubled. “Almost all the old gang back again. Isn’t it great?”
Rumble smiled back, perhaps a little tighter than he would have liked. “Fantastic,” he agreed. “So, uh, why don’t you tell me about college on the way?”
Immediately, Dinky brightened, and soon they were making their way down the road, Dinky chattering away about teleportation matrices and anchoring artifacts and more technobabble that left Rumble utterly nonplussed. But that was a price he was willing to pay to see the gloom lifted from his friend, no matter how briefly.
Twilight practically danced into her laboratory, still full of giddy excitement. “She touched me…” she crooned, spinning a series of monitors to face her. “She reached out her hooves and she touched me~”
She clicked on an array of switches, falling into humming as she struggled to compose the next verse. “Because when she touched me!” Twilight sang, going into the finale as she pushed the activator button, “She touched! My! Heeeeeaaaaaaaaaaart!”
Nothing happened. The lab remained dim and still. Frowning, Twilight pressed the button again. By all rights, the van der Giraffe coils at the center of the room should be lighting up like Las Pegasus, while every monitoring system in the room kicked into gear. Instead, dust settled into a slightly more comfortable position on all her devices.
Twilight sighed. “Dammit,” she grumbled, her good mood fleeing. “This had all better just have come unplugged.”
She stomped over to the coils and examined the cables flowing into and out of their behemoth bulk. Unfortunately, none of them seemed to have come loose, meaning that the problem had to be somewhere in the wiring itself. Twilight sighed and started unplugging them one by one, probing the wiring with her magic. So preoccupied was she that she didn’t even notice the gold and ruby-red sparks dancing at the tips of the coils.
Twilight yanked another wire. There was a pop like a flashbulb going off, a smell like burning hair, and a flash like the Sun developing a midlife crisis. She was knocked back a few yards, and collided with a table. She blinked several times before she could see again. “Well. Guess it’s that one that’s broken.”
With some difficulty, she stood upright again and stumbled over to the wiring. “Right,” she growled. “Let’s see what’s wrong with you, you miserable little --” she levitated the wire up to eye level.
Immediately, she went cross-eyed, sinking to the ground as the wire pulled the magic from her horn, sucking it down like spaghetti. It reminded Twilight of being drunk. Through a straw. Her horn ached and burned as thousands of thaums were forced through it. Dimly, through the pain, Twilight was aware that, even as an alicorn, this level of output was unsustainable. Her horn would shatter, and the blowback would cave in her skull, provided that sheer magical exhaustion didn’t kill her first. She only had a few seconds. Desperate, she lifted the wire to her mouth and bit down. For an instant, the connection was severed. Twilight’s horn went dim, and the severed coil fell to the floor. A moment later, Twilight’s eyes went dim as well, and she too fell to the floor, unconscious.
Scootaloo watched as Ponyville came into view over the horizon. Aunt Lofty said something, and Scootaloo cocked her head. “Huh?” she shouted.
Lofty raised her voice to be heard over the wind. “I said, how are you feeling, graduate?”
Scootaloo grinned. “So rutting glad my thesis is done.”
“Language,” Lofty admonished, but she was smiling too. “And are you excited to be back in Ponyville again?”
“‘Course I am,” Scootaloo said. “Oh, that reminds me, you did remember I’ve got plans with Bloom and Dinky, right? You and Aunt Holiday can’t keep me all to yourselves today.”
“I remember, dear. Don’t worry about us, we’ll just be waiting around the house, getting older and older, pining for our dear sweet baby.”
“If you’re gonna guilt trip me, don’t call me a baby. Even if I thought for a second that was anywhere close to true, you’d lose all my sympathy in a wingbeat.”
Lofty laughed. “Oh, fine. It’s just as well, I suppose -- there are still more than a few vases left to lock up, and some corners to cover with foam.”
“Ugh. For someone who wants me home so bad, you’d think you could stop burning me every time you open your mouth.”
Lofty laughed again, harder this time, and hoisted Scootaloo into an even tighter embrace. “Alright then, pax it shall be. Now, where did you want me to set you down, dear?”
“Uh, what time is it?”
“A little before ten, I believe.”
“Probably near town hall, I guess.” Scootaloo hesitated. “Y’know, I can just tell them I’ll meet up with them later. I don’t mind blowing them off for, y’know, a couple hours while we all have lunch.”
“Nonsense. Holiday and I see you every other week. How long has it been for your friends? We aren’t selfish enough to hog all the Scootaloo for ourselves.”
“Okay,” Scootaloo said. “As long as you’re cool with it.”
“I’d hardly say so if we weren’t.”
“I know. Just wanted to make sure.”
They were past the boundaries of the Everfree Forest now, and Lofty tilted a little as she started to swoop into Ponyville proper. As she slowed, Scootaloo could pick out individual figures on the ground below. “Okay… town hall… yep, there’s Dinky.” She frowned. “That’s not Apple Bloom, though. Wait a second…”
“Isn’t that Rumble?” Lofty asked.
“Yeah! Wow, I didn’t know he was back in town too! Oh, there’s Bloom. And behind her, that’s-- that’s--” She fell silent, overwhelmed.
Lofty touched down near a fountain. No sooner had she done so, it seemed, than Scootaloo was free of her grasp, galloping full tilt toward the two slowly converging groups while screaming at the top of her lungs. Lofty stood back and smiled as she watched her little ballistic missile bowl into a startled Rumble and knock him nearly off his hooves. For the first time in almost four years, the Cutie Mark Crusaders were regathered at last.
Big Macintosh didn’t show much emotion. She’d become a little more expressive since coming out, a little more open, but at her core, she just wasn’t much of a talker. That said, there was an undeniable spring in her step as she made her way through town, and ponies who passed close to her couldn’t help but overhear as she hummed a little love song to herself.
“Macintosh! Oh, Macintosh, darling!”
Mac turned, still smiling, as Rarity waved to her from across the street. “There you are, darling, I’ve been looking all over for you,” Rarity continued, hurrying to her side. “It’s finished!”
Mac didn’t know what Rarity was talking about. This was not uncommon. She fell back on her usual response. “Eeyup.”
“Come along, darling, we have to hurry if we’re going to make it in time!” Rarity trotted back towards her boutique, waving for Mac to follow. Well, it wasn’t like she didn’t need to go there anyway. Her mother’s dress was still in her saddlebags, waiting to be adjusted for Mac to wear. So, Mac hurried after Rarity.
As they hurried down the streets of Ponyville, Mac became conscious of a strange quality of the light. It shone down bright and golden, turning everything just a touch more yellow. It was like being stuck in amber. Dust hung in the air like cobwebs -- Mac could see it in the corners of her vision, but whenever she tried to look directly at the odd effect, she couldn’t see it.
*̸̰͒*̷̟̾̊ͅ*̵̧̻͑
“Here we are, darling,” Rarity said, reaching behind the counter. Mac blinked. When had they gotten to Carousel Boutique?
Missing scenes, something said inside her head. And then, disapproving, lazy writing. She didn’t know what any of that meant, but somehow she understood how it was affecting her.
Rarity pulled out a dress. Hadn’t she done that already? “There,” she said, exultant. “I think it should fit you marvelously.”
It was Pear Butter’s dress. Mac stared at it in shock, then spun around to grapple with her saddlebags.
Rarity cocked her head. “Darling? Is something the matter?”
The dress was gone. Mac hadn’t given it to Rarity, but somehow she’d had it long enough to completely finish adjusting it.
Plot holes, said the something in her head.
“Miz Rarity? What time is it?”
Rarity, already frowning, furrowed her brow. “Darling, you’re acting very strangely.”
“Please?”
Rarity sighed and glanced at a clock on the wall. There were symbols on it, but Mac was damn sure they weren't numbers. “It’s f̶̨̛̯̟̭̻̖̖͖̖̖͇̤͍͇̜̗͛̒̿̾̉͊̾͘ơ̴̢̛̠̹͎̤͉̱̮̗̩̮͕̺̱͒̔͑̾͐̂̃͂͛̽̇͛̅͌̌̍̒̄͒̌͘͘͝ͅư̷̲͖̙͊̋͗͛͛́̆̀̈́̿̃̊̒̋̿̿̌̓͗̐͆͂̚̚͠r̸͖̣̪̅̌̂͋̉̐̒̀̒́̂̽̎̽̓̄͘͘ ̴̨͕̖̮̠̰̰̲͓̭̦̥̯̠̏́͑̈͐̇̅̈́̾̓̂́̚͠ţ̴̻͎̗̥̪̼͖̘̺̹͕̩͌̀͌͗͗̈̓̈́̋͐͌͋̌͐͊͒̕̕̕͜ǫ̸̡͈̙̹̠͚̙̺̣̻͖̝͕̫̩̽́̾̄ͅ ̸͔̝̪̲̞̮̊͜ď̷̰̈́̽̊̈́͆͌͋͊̏̿͆͌̓̽͋͝o̴̡̪͙̤͈̲̬̟͓̜̦̽̒͑̇̈́͑̿̋̇̏̋̑͆̕o̶̡͕̩͉̞̬̽̽̊̈́̀̑̅͒̌̓̏͠͝ͅm̷͔͖̫̼̠̟͓͇̥̫͗̂͌͑̏͛̃͌̂̋͆͋̌͌̋̕̕̕s̷̨̨̛͇̗̖͓͖̭̺̥̘̮̠͕̗͈͖̟̺̣͙͜d̸̡͉̤͓̤̦͎̣̹͎̰̘̣͎͈̬͖̥͎̙͉̙̙̱͋͗͗̓͜͜͝ą̸̮̫͇̭̳̘̍̆̓̿̄́̓̈́̃̿̆͆y̵̡̨̢̡̨̛̛̛͉͇̝̳̘̠̟̪̞̰̤͈̰̿̓̈́́́̆̈́͗́̚̕͘͠ͅͅ. Now, darling,up on the platform, please, let me see how it looks on you. Last-minute adjustments. Nips and tucks. Iron out the wrinkles, in time.
*̶̢̧̧̨̥̯̖̲̝̬̱̺̘͍͙̤̟͑̊́͌̌̾̽*̸̢̡͍̼̮̮̱̫͈͕̞͉̉́͊̊̋͂͑̂̂͘͝ͅ*̶̨̘̤̱̣̞̣̰̞͙̹̻͎̈͋̒͌͛͗̓͑̏͑̈́̓̏͗́̀̾͊́̾͘͜
Mac stood on the dais in the center of the room. She was wearing her mother’s dress. She hadn’t put it on. Rarity was fiddling with needles and pins. The light gleamed off them, dark and golden. Dust hung in the air as though it was a photograph. Trapped in amber. Missing scenes. Plot holes.
“We’ll have to let out those sleeves just a little more,” Rarity said, making a mark with the chalk. Meanwhile, Rarity was inspecting the hem of her dress with a critical eye. “Perhaps a little longer,” she mused.
“Keep still,” Rarity said, advancing with a pincushion, but Mac had had quite enough. She broke for the door, leaping from the platform and knocking Rarity over. She reached the front of the Boutique in a single bound, but froze in the foyer. Outside of the window was
Was.
Was?
Wasn’t.
“Come along darling,” Mac whipped around. Rarity stood in the doorframe, beckoning her back. But there was something terribly wrong. Rarity’s entire body glitched and spasmed. “Come along. I need to see how it looks on you. Lazy writing. Plot holes.”
The hanging dust began to encroach, eating away at Mac’s vision. She became conscious of a crackling hum in the background, like radio static.
Rarity looked up at her with flickering blue light where her eyes should have been. “C̵̨̨̡̛̳̟̼͖̰͈̙̥͓̩͎̪͓̝̻̝̋̿̌͆̓̀̅̋̋̔̇̈̀̌͂͂̽̔͆̌̕̕̚͝͝͝ǫ̸̧̨̺̣̼̣̱͇̠̟̮͙̫̟͔͚̮̜͉̫͚́m̶̡̢̛̺͈̺͍̥̳̖̜̹͇̤̠̼͕̺̞̮̠͕̱͎̖̐̑́́̌͋͛̿̿̌̽̌̒̿̂̕̕͜e̵̢͚͔̝͇͈͎͉̦̥͓̦̤̤̞̝̙͇̝̟̗̝̩̓̎̆͛̿́̿̓̅̀͆͛̈́̏̔̇͝͝ͅ ̵̢͉̼̤͉͉͎̟̳̞͔̦̏͐̊̇̈́̀̍̈̉̽͋̈́͛̈́͑̏̇͘̕͘͜ä̶̜̠̲̪̦̣̞̱̱́̄̌̓̌̉̀̅̚l̸͉̟̻̠͎͉͍̩͙̤̈́̑̃̈́͝ͅo̸̡̢͖̖̻̙̩͕̭̟̭̹͔̠͚̼͇̠͈̭͕͓̙̤̼̊̀͂̾̎̀̈́̉͌͛̆̄̈́̐́̔͊̂̏̕̕͠͠ͅͅn̶̡̤͖̦͍̰͖̬̥̤̘̪̟͈̖͎̫̰̗̮̲̙͊͌̔͑̃̑̌͌͋͒̓̌̚͜g̵̛̛̜̺̣͙̥̲͉͑͒̋̈́̊̌͂͑̄̀̎̏͒͐̂̅̐͊̚͘͝͠,̵̡̛͎͙̳̟͖̰͋̎̔͋̆̈̽̄̈́̃̅̾̒̽͐̇̍̓́̅̊̇̚͜ͅ ̷̧̗̣͖̳̯̍͊̀̾͌̑̀̒̈́̈́͒̌d̴̛̠͔̯͌͂̆͑͆̿̀̆̿̎̓͆̐̐̓̌̃̌͗̈́̇͝͝͝͠͝ä̴̧͔̬̭̥̼̫̮̳͚̫̰͍̳͈̻̪̠͔͖̼́́̓̓̀͐́͒͑̾̾̾̄̇̽͠r̴̨̩͙̝̤̠̝̮̦̥̣̰̐̈́̄̓̐́̋l̵̛̛̬̬̮͈͖̘̯͇̽̋͋̂͋͆̃̈́̆̇̒́̇̽̅̊͑̐̈́̃͆͆̓͝i̸͔͙͇͔̤̿̆̿̆̓͊͜n̵̨̡̛̻͕͖̯̟̯̣͈̝͇̟̮̙̜̳͖͇̰̬̩̺͕̹̓̓͌͂́̿͂̾̆́̓̎̏̐́̅̐̊̈́̇͘̚͠ͅg̵̥̰̥̪͖͎̖̩̹̲͚̩̠͎͎̲̝͖͛͛̍̐͑̿̊͂̾̿̒̚̕͜,̸̧̧̙͈͔̥̃͊̆̎̓̐̾̎̅̍́̄̓̀͛͌͆̾̌̀̿̀̉͘͘͝͠” Mac heard. “A̵̩̤̣̗̝̯̭̳͗̈́̃̐͌̽̓̅͗̀̿̐͆̓́̉͂͐͠ ̸̧̝͉̗͍̻̤̿̀̐̄̀̋̉̂̏͘͠s̷̡̨̼̱̙̪̱͖͕̜͊͛̈́͂̑͗̔͑̍̏̽̅̾͒͒͘̚ẗ̸̨̫̪̞̲̠̝̘͍̣́͌́̀ͅi̷̡̨̬̭̝̹͇̯̱̰̱̼̞͎͇̜̟̟̥͚̔̅̉̀͑̀t̵̢̛̝̟̜̬̮̤̰̯̼̫̩͓̩̲̟͙̊̾͋̒͌̇̊̇̒́̃͘͜͝c̶̡͚̻̯̯̺͍̘͔̘͚̻̬̣̪̪͕͈͔̔́̃̈́̋̚͜͠ͅḩ̵̧͖͙̝̙̯͇̝̱̟̭̯̲̖̩͎̲̥̲̙͕̗̮̹̎͂̀̽͊̈́̿̄͑̏̌̅̒̐͠ ̸̢̯͖̤̦̺͈̘̭̘̳͖̣̗̈̑͆͆̍̐̓̏̀̿̋̈́́̊͆̇́͐͋̎ͅͅi̸̢̖̟̣̩̳̖̜͉̗̻̤̹̟̰̮̰͖̥̺̗̲̟̪͋̊̔̍̉ͅͅn̸̡̨͈̱͓̯̦͍̟͉̟̫̮͍̲͕̤͚̹̦̪̺̈́̇̑̈́̅̅̉́̋̈́̓̎̄̈́̒̓͊̈̀̔̃̀̈́́͘̕ͅ ̸̱͔̜͎̿͆͆̔͝t̵̨̨̨̜̩̟̯̹͔̥̗̝̗̹̳̝̰̦̣͓̜̖̩̩͓͒̋̓į̶̬̮̤̲͖͚̜̲̲͇̺̟̥̰͙̝̤̗͔̹̦͆͛̊̌́̾̓̓̓̀̎̊̆̐̀́̓͝͝m̸̨̛̰̹̯̥̙̖̦̦̖̈̈́͐͊͂̐̄̇̏̂͂͗̔͊̀̈́̾̎̒͌̕̕̚͝ͅe̷̡̛͕̤̺̬͉͖̅̔̔̆͆̿̉̿̍̂̏̀̀̆͆́̎̏̆̽͘̚̕̕͠͝ ̸̢̛͖̣̘̄̋̐̃̓̔̓̒͛͆̉̅͂̀̕̚͝͠s̸̢̢̧̧̹̦̩̱͍̰͓̤̝̗̙̮̺̳͔͍̪̽͌͗̌̈́͒̃̑̆̀̇̀̐̈́̋̅͗̐͘͜͠͝͝ͅą̷̡̤̤̻͉̤̤̲͍͉̠̯͙͎̞͎̦̪̹̳̫̤͉͑̓̆̇̉̈̉̀͛̌́̏̈́͑͋̂̂̇̓́́͌́͘͘͠ͅͅv̶̝̟̹̟̘͑͊̆̄̂͊̿̽̅͗́̕̕̚e̵̢̡̨̛̛̻̝̞̤̥̺͕̜͎͉̪̳̰̖͔̻͖͑͒̒̐͗͑̈́̊̋̇͑͛͛̿̌͜͜͠͠͝͝s̸͚̉̎́̆̐̽̇̊̇̎̀̑̿̓̈́͐̓̈́̚͠͠͝ ̴̡̩͍̳̟͇̳̠̹̯̫̾̄̀̔̋̂̽̎͆̒̊̑͆͗̋͘͜ṇ̶̡̛̛̛̲̗͎̝̱̣̮͇̩̰̻̥̱̯̙͚͚̠̖̩̺̅͗͑̈́̓̍͒̓̽̒́̒̓̿̓͂̍̾͜ḯ̷̛̫͎͑̅̑̍̉͒͑̅͠ņ̸̡͔̺͇̺̟̩͈̯̳̝̼͕̥̇͜ͅę̷̭̮̹͚̣͚͔̘̯̋̋͛̋̈͌̍̌͊͆̾͐̎̇̉̏̊̋̐̉͒̎̈͂͜͝.̸͚̙͎̼̬̓̇̆̾̏̽̓͌͗̆̊̓̿̑́̓͠”
A stitch in time, and you are mine.
“Darling? Darling!”
Mac blinked. Rarity was watching her with open concern. “Macintosh, dear, are you well? You’ve been standing there for almost fifteen minutes, staring at nothing!”
“Whrrr,” said Mac. “Um. Sorry t’ frighten you, Miz Rarity. Must’ve been a million miles away.”
“Are you sure that’s all?” Rarity asked, scrutinizing her.
“Um,” said Mac. “Pretty sure.”
Rarity frowned. “Why don’t you go into the back room and have a bit of a lie down?” she suggested. “I’d feel much better if you did.”
“Ah need a dress fitted,” Mac said. “Fer the party tonight.”
Rarity raised a brow as Mac fumbled with her saddlebags. The farmer didn’t quite know why her heart skipped a beat as she fiddled with the latch on the bags, or why it sang when she saw the dress neatly folded inside. “It was mah mother’s.”
Rarity took it from her gently. “I’ll work on it,” she promised. “I won’t even charge extra for the rush job, provided you go and take a nap, now.”
Mac opened her mouth to argue, but thought better of it. “Yes’m,” she said meekly, and followed Rarity through the shop floor to the back wall. Rarity pushed open a door and flicked on the light switch, revealing a large cupboard, almost empty save for a chaise longue in the middle of the floor.
“You can rest here for a bit. Should I bring in any pillows? Blankets?”
“No, thank you kindly, Miz Rarity,” Mac said, taking a seat on the couch. “Ah’m more comfortable without.”
“If you’re quite sure,” Rarity said, slightly doubtful.
“Positive.”
“Very well,” Rarity said, trotting back out. “Sleep well, Macintosh.” She flicked off the lights and, with a glance back and a small smile, shut the door. The only thing now illuminating the room was a small night light on the wall. Ordinarily, Mac was fond of a little light while she was drifting off, but something about the golden glow set her teeth on edge. Maybe it was how it made the falling dust sparkle. Either way, she rose and unplugged it, plunging the room into pitch black. She fumbled her way back to the couch and lay down, quickly falling into a sleep that was, mercifully, dreamless.
The Doctor stepped into the TARDIS. The console did not warble in greeting. The lights were dim, and several monitors were completely switched off. The Doctor sighed and patted the central console. “I know, old girl. I’m sorry.”
He got no reply. He wasn’t really expecting one, but it still hurt. Giving the console one last gentle pat, he turned his attention to the covered figure in the corner of the room. Technically speaking, there was no reason for it to have been covered -- the door was locked, and if anyone managed to bypass that, a simple tarp certainly wouldn’t stop them from looking further. But it made him feel better, so he did it anyway.
He took the tarp in his teeth, and with a flick of his head, he flung it off, revealing his pet project to the half-light of the room. It was beautiful; tall, slender, and perfectly put-together, it was a vision in blue. From the tip of its horn to the frog of its hooves, the machine was a vision. Strictly speaking, it didn’t have to be shaped like an alicorn, but the Doctor figured that if he was going to go into town, he might as well go in a Lincoln.
Its eyes were dark, now. “Right,” the Doctor muttered. “Time for a test of the systems.”
He reached under its collar, the one section of the machine that wasn’t the same TARDIS blue as the rest -- rather, it was crimson and gold, the proud colors of the Prydon Academy back on Gallifrey. That was yet another detail which, although unnecessary, brought the Doctor a certain amount of satisfaction. He found the activator switch and flipped it to ‘On’.
The machine’s eyes lit up pure white, then cycled through the entire spectrum before settling into a warm golden hue.
All of a sudden, the Doctor felt very self-conscious. He cleared his throat, and the machine turned to look at him. “...Hello. This is the Doctor to the TARDIS. Do you… do you understand me?”
In her eyes, he could see the gears spinning away. After a long moment, she opened her mouth. “...My thief?”
“Er, yes, I suppose so.”
She seemed to struggle to speak. “Do... not... build it.”
The Doctor blinked. “Pardon?”
“I couldn’t resist, I won’t be able to hold him off, my thief, you should not build this conduit!”
“I…” the Doctor trailed off, confused. “Hold who off?”
A cold feeling washed over him, and he reached for the activator switch once more, but the machine wrenched away from him, slicing his hoof on the sharp edge of the collar. He reeled back, and in the next instant a metal hoof had sent him sprawling to the floor. Before he could right himself, the machine had pinned him to the ground. Its eyes, now burning red, cut through him like a knife.
He felt a horrible sense of recognition wash over him. “You.”
The machine gave a horrible facsimile of a smile. “You,” it said, as if in agreement. “You shouldn’t have tried that test-run, Doctor. You’ll give away the game if you aren’t careful.”
The Doctor attempted to say something, but there was a hoof pressing down on his windpipe rather firmly.
“No, I think I’ve heard all I want to hear from you,” the thing inside the machine growled. “You’re pathetic, you know that? So transparently desperate for validation from mayflies. Your inane prattle, your eccentric mannerisms, your catchphrases, are all just misdirection from what you really are. A runaway. A criminal. A coward.”
The Doctor screwed up his mouth as though he were about to speak, but instead, he merely spat in the machine’s face. He was rewarded with even more pressure on his throat. “You’d like to die, wouldn’t you?” it taunted. “How would that work out, I wonder? Leave your body here to rot. Who would find you first? Your wife or your daughter?”
The Doctor could see spots dancing in front of his eyes, now. “Or perhaps I could drag your corpse to some unused broom closet and jettison it into the vortex,” it mused. “Make them think you’d abandoned them again.”
The Doctor’s eyes fluttered shut as his respiratory bypass kicked in. Reluctantly, the machine released him. It still needed the Doctor alive, after all. Alive, but not necessarily well. “Bitter dreams, Doctor. Contact.”
The Doctor’s eyes opened, his irises as red as the machine’s. He grinned slowly and unpleasantly, as though he hadn’t done so for years. Centuries, perhaps. Which, to be fair, was entirely true for the entity occupying his mind. He grabbed the tools that had been strewn across the floor in the scuffle and made for the console. There were quite a few more adjustments to be made in preparation for the unveiling this evening.