Thursday.
"It's frustrating," said Twilight. "I really wanted to hear it all."
"I understand," responded Celestia. "But these things need time. He'll open up eventually."
"Being alone can be good for someone," said Luna. "Or it can break them. And judging by what he's shown of his mental state thus far, I think that leaving him be isn't going to be very healthy."
"You're the shrink..." remarked Celestia. "So you probably know what's best."
"Yeah," said Twilight. "You have all the degrees. What do you make of this?"
"Hard to say," answered Luna, looking at the roll of parchment on which the report was written. "If I'm right about his dream, his regrets come from his time in the Army. Maybe he regrets killing the child... but he said he moved on. I'm thinking that he repressed his remorse, and it all came flowing back one day."
Twilight frowned. "So if I understand what you're saying, when his trauma surfaced, it lead him to do things out of his control."
"That's a possibility," said Luna. "A more simple explanation is that his regret led him to think less of himself. I've seen a lot of ponies devastated by a loss of self-esteem."
"And his wife?"
"Maybe she left him when he told her about it."
Twilight, Fluttershy, Celestia and Luna all frowned.
"Maybe we should just let him be," said Fluttershy. "Even if it is unhealthy to be alone... I don't think he'll open up if we keep prying. I know I wouldn't like it..."
"I take your point," said Luna. "However, I do have something worth considering. If you'll excuse me..." The Princess left the study, and came back a few minutes later, hovering an old book in front of her. "I was catching up on all of the good reads I missed during my exile," she explained. "Have you ever heard of Stickmund Fenil?"
"The psychoanalyst?" asked Fluttershy. Everypony present turned to her, surprised. "Well, um, it is common knowledge..."
"Yes, him," said Luna. "About a century ago, he published a lot of theses. Many of them were flawed, and most were more detrimental than good, but in more ways than one, he paved the way for modern psychology and psychiatry. One thesis that caught my eye was his work with hypnosis. Ah, here it is." She looked through the book, and found the page she was looking for.
"Walk us through it, then..." said Celestia.
"Briefly put," said Luna, "if one is to be put into a state of hypnosis, he can be ordered to tell things. Well- it's much, much more complicated, but that's it. Anyhow, Fenil mentioned me in his book- yes, it was an honour- he said that putting someone in a state of hypnosis, coupled with my dream-immersion powers, had I still been around, could have been a much more efficient way of exploring one's mind."
"Fascinating," said Twilight. "So you could hypnotise Brian and jump into his mind?"
"I could," answered Luna. "But a lot of things could go wrong with this. First of all, as the exploration will present itself as a dream to him, he could discover me prying. Or worse, if he becomes resistant to the hypnosis, he could forcefully will me out of his mind, and be stuck inside his own mind for a long time. He'd be comatose, and if he wakes up... sorry, when he wakes up, he'll probably never trust us again."
"That sounds like a lot of risk," said Twilight. "Where's Rainbow Dash when you need her, right?" she thought.
"It is a gamble," reasoned Celestia. "Besides, jumping into one’s mind and seeing every single one of their thoughts sounds somewhat intrusive.”
“And if we just hypnotise him and just ask him questions?” asked Twilight.
“The same dangers are there,” answered Luna. “Although, not in the same way. He will still remember what happened during the hypnosis, and that means he’ll remember the questions. If we’re too intrusive, I doubt he’ll be very happy with us.”
There was a long pause. After a while, Twilight suggested something else. “You can put ponies to sleep, right?” she asked.
“Yes…” answered Luna, in an uncertain fashion.
“What if we have him consent to being put to sleep?” asked Twilight. “And have him consent to the idea of someone poking around his mind? I mean, if he agrees to the idea...”
Celestia looked at Luna. “Would that work?”
“I suppose it would,” answered the dark mare. “I could adjust my control over his mind, just enough to be able to guide his thoughts through suggestion, but leaving him some control. That way, if he disagrees with something we do, he can just shove us out. I’ll lift the spell, and that’ll be it.”
“Problem solved,” said Twilight.
“However,” cautioned Luna, “I don’t think I should directly enter his mind. Maybe I should send somepony he likes. Somepony he trusts, and whom he’s bonded with.”
Everypony looked at Fluttershy.
"Just remember," said Luna. "If he discovers you inside his mind, try and convince him that you're just a part of his imagination.
"O- okay," said Fluttershy uncertainly.
"Alright," said Luna. "Here goes..."
Luna opened the door to Brian's cell, and entered along with Fluttershy. The captain was doing some stomach crunches on the floor. Soon enough, he noticed the two ponies who'd just walked in, so he sprung up, and bowed. "Your Highness," he said.
"Captain Brian Havelock," responded Luna, smiling her trademark smile. "How are you feeling?"
"As good as I can be," answered Brian, sitting down on the bed and getting his tobacco pouch. He coughed a few times, loudly, and started rolling a cigarette.
"Glad to hear it," said Luna. "But I think you can do much better."
"Is that so?" asked Brian, looking up from his half-rolled cigarette. "How?"
"Well, have you ever heard of dream therapy?" asked Luna.
"No, I haven’t," said Brian. To him, the term ‘dream therapy’ sounded like something that white people with dreadlocks did. "What is it?"
“It’s basically hypnotherapy, but better,” said Luna. “Simply put, I will magically put you asleep, and steer your mind to focus on your problems. That way, I’ll be able to find solutions.”
"Why would you want to help me?" asked Brian.
"Because you're unhappy," answered Luna. "You are burdened by trauma, guilt, and doubt. This therapy can work wonders. But you have to consent to it."
Brian was once again confronted with the look he just couldn't say 'no' to. He sighed, and said, "If it means that much to you, alright."
Luna beamed.
Fluttershy, who had stayed silent the whole time, watched as Luna sat down in front of the human.
"Now," said Luna, in a slow and reassuring voice. "First of all, I would like you to fix the tip of my horn with your eyes."
Brian half-heartedly obliged. "Alright."
"Good," said Luna, her voice not leaving the sweet, soothing tone. "Before we start, I want you to know that you can pull out of this at any time you like. If we become too intrusive, or if you become uncomfortable with any of this, you can stop.”
“Duly noted.”
“Good. Now, close your eyes, and think of a place where you feel secure. A happy place.”
Brian instantly closed his eyes, and thought of his favourite pub. He then answered "I'm there."
"Very good," said Luna. "Now, if you’re ready, I will cast my spell. Are you ready?"
"Yes," answered the officer.
Luna produced a tiny beam from her horn, which hit Brian on the forehead. "Now, keep focus on that place, while you start to fall asleep. Remember it. Fixate it. It is where you wish to be."
Brian froze completely. As if drunk and tired, he simply said "Okay," in a long, moany voice.
"Lay down on the bed, please," said Luna.
Brian slowly curled up into fetal position, taking very deep breaths.
"This is our shot," whispered Luna to Fluttershy. "Are you ready?"
Fluttershy nodded. She lay down on the stone, and Luna shot a beam at her forehead. Then, Luna shut her eyes, and entered her realm of dreams.
A roll of Thunder woke Fluttershy up. She was on a cobbled footpath, in a dark street. Rain was pouring, Her coat was soaking wet. The filly got up, pushed her mane out of her eyes, and looked up. There were so many clouds in the sky that she could barely see the moon. She looked around, scared. Everything seemed over-sized. It was dark, and someone could have been lurking in the shadows, ready to pounce on Fluttershy while she wasn't looking.
"Hello?" she said. But no-one came. She called out once more, in a louder voice, but still, nopony came to the rescue.
But, as if Brian's mind had reluctantly decided to help her out, a light flicked on at the other end of the street. They were dim, and they seemed to be designed to shine on a sign, that simply read 'The Garrison'.
Fluttershy ran towards the building, and jumped towards the door to get out of the rain. They opened without resistance, and she found herself skidding on the wooden floorboards.
It was unmistakably a pub. On Fluttershy's right there was the counter, behind which there were bottles upon bottles of liquor. To her right there were booth-like tables, just underneath the tinted windows. The building felt cozy, secure, but that was probably because just about any building would feel that way after being out in the rain.
Looking back at the counter, Fluttershy saw that there was a man sitting in front of it. He was wearing a combat uniform. Maybe she'd understand more about where she was if she asked someone.
"Hello?" she said uncertainly, approaching the man.
The man turned his head around, and saw Fluttershy. "Hi." He didn't seem very surprised to see a talking pony. Then again, this was all inside Brian's head, so maybe he'd gotten used to seeing them by now.
"Sorry if this seems rude, but, erm... what's your name?" asked the Pegasus.
"Douglas," answered the man. "Douglas Sheffield."
"Oh," said Fluttershy. "I'm Fl-"
"I know who you are."
"Oh," said Fluttershy. "How did you meet Brian?"
"He saved my life."
"So you're his best friend?" asked Fluttershy.
"I like to think that I was," said Doug. "Let's say that we haven't been on the best of terms since his wife left us..."
"Why not?"
"His wife and I didn't see eye-to-eye," answered Doug. "So when she left, Brian accused me of, well, ya know..."
"How so?"
"Well, there's the thing," said Doug. "After Bri left the army, I told him that he could maybe come to America, in my town. So he, Grace, and their daughter came to the States, and they decided to live in a small house, near the edge of town. And Brian didn't mind how big the house was, as long as he was with his family. And he was happy. But there was his wife, who was too good for it all. She longed for the big cities of the coast. So there she was, trying to pull my friend away from me. Yeah, I didn't see eye-to-eye with the bitch."
"Such language..." thought Fluttershy. "And how was Brian before, you know... before his wife left?"
"He was a barrel of laughs," answered Doug. "He was a joker. He joked a lot. Laughed a lot too. He was happy."
"And why did his wife leave?" asked Fluttershy.
"I really want to tell you," said Doug. "But Brian doesn't want me to."
Fluttershy didn't really want to argue with the man, or with Brian's will for that matter, so she left Doug alone. Turning her head, she noticed that a bartender had appeared on the other side of the bar, at the other end of the counter. She decided to approach him.
The big, bald bartender looked up, and saw Fluttershy. "What can I get ya, Darling?" he asked, a broad smile on his face.
"Can I have a lemonade?" asked Fluttershy in return.
"Comin' up," answered the Bartender. A glass of lemonade magically appeared in his right hand, which he placed in front of Fluttershy.
"How much do I owe you?" asked Fluttershy.
"Nothing," answered the barman. "It's for free."
"Why thank you!" said Fluttershy.
"Don't thank me," said the Bartender. "Thank Brian. He likes you."
Fluttershy turned scarlet. "Oh," she said. "Well that's... nice..." She started drinking the ice-cold lemonade through the straw. "Can I ask you something?" she asked, when she'd finished her drink.
"Sure," answered the bartender.
"What is this place?" asked Fluttershy.
"It's the Garrison Pub," answered the bartender.
"Does Brian come here often?"
"Outside of his mind, you mean?" asked the bartender. "Not anymore. He used to hang around here with the lads, quite a lot." He jerked his head to the side, where there seemed to be five men, frozen, raising their pints. And there was Brian, cigar firmly lodged between his teeth, a broad smile on his face. The group disappeared.
"Do you get a lot of military people here?" asked Fluttershy.
"It ain't called the Garrison for nothing, Darling," he answered. "We mainly get some SAS boys in here. Their base is just next door, after all."
"Oh, okay," said Fluttershy. It made sense why Brian's mind was centered around this bar. "Do you know Grace?" she asked.
"Yeah," answered the bartender. "They were best pals since Brian cleaned up his act."
"How did they meet?" asked Fluttershy, dreamily. She liked romantic novels, and she often fantasized about them when she didn't have anything else to do.
"Why don't you ask her?" suggested the bartender, jerking his head towards somewhere behind Fluttershy.
Fluttershy turned around, and saw that a woman was sitting at a table, underneath one of the windows, dipping a teabag into a mug of hot water: Grace. But she looked different from the other people, in such a way that she stuck out like a sore thumb. She was wearing a white dress, and there were two white eagle-like wings protruding from her back. She seemed to be wearing some sort of golden crown. Curious, and somewhat attracted by Grace's beauty, Fluttershy went to sit down facing her.
"Um... hello?" said Fluttershy.
"Yes?" asked Grace, in a tender voice.
"Are you... Grace?" asked Fluttershy.
"That's me," answered the woman, beaming.
"I... I had a few, erm... some questions?"
"Of course," said Grace. "Ask them."
Something told Fluttershy that Brian's subconscious senses would become extremely alert if she asked 'why did you leave Brian?' straight away. So instead, she decided to ease into the subject slowly. "So, how long have you known Brian?" she asked.
"As of now?" asked Grace. "About thirty years."
"And how long were you married?"
"About seventeen years. Time flies, doesn't it?" She took a sip from her tea.
"And how did you two... meet?" asked Fluttershy.
"It's a nice story," said Grace. "After Brian's, er... encounter with the soldier, he decided to clean up his act; find a job. As it happened,my parents needed someone to look after the horses. Brian liked horses, so he took the job. Day after day, after school, he came over to my house to clean our horses, feed them, and occasionally take one out for a ride. He knew his place, and he was beyond committing more crimes, so he never tried anything funny. We liked him very much. So, one day, I went to the stables, maybe to take one for a walk. There was Brian, slaving away over my filly. He was so humble and polite when I asked him to prepare my filly for a ride. I told him to come with me for a ride around the pastures, and he happily agreed. as we rode around the field, I fell off and broke my arm. He was so kind. He made a sling from his bandanna, and carried me to the house."
"And what happened?" asked Fluttershy.
"A bond was created on that day," answered Grace. "So we started meeting, in secret. We loved each other, and that was it. One day, Brian told me that he was to join the Royal Marines. And, well... he said that we'd have to announce it to my parents before he left. Well, we didn't 'have' to, but we both agreed that it was something we both wanted very much. So we announced it to them. They were very reluctant, at first. A posh girl, and some poor Rhodesian boy; it didn't seem very right to them. But in the end, they saw that our love was real, so we came to an agreement: they would sign him up for officers' training and they'd teach him the manners of high society to make him presentable. So that was what they did. Everyone was happy with it. And, soon enough, we got married."
"Did you have any children?" asked Fluttershy.
"A daughter," said Grace. "I'd let you see her, but Brian wouldn't want me too." She turned around, and looked at a steel door, with several locks on it.
"Oh," said Fluttershy. "She's in there, then?"
"Yes," said Grace.
"And how did, erm, you know... how did your marriage end?"
Grace turned back around, and looked at Fluttershy, squarely in her eyes. But when she delivered her answer, she wasn't speaking in her own voice. It had been replaced by Brian's, gruff and gravelly. "He killed me." And without another word, Grace's angelic figure disappeared into thin air.
The entire pub seemed to spin. Fluttershy tried to scream, but she couldn't. It all became a big blur, before the entire scene turned to black.
"Hello?" called Fluttershy. She tried looking at her hooves, but she couldn't see them. "Hello?" she called again. "Anyone? Please?" She whimpered as she felt her way around. She was on a surface, which was about as much as she could tell. "Please, let me out!" she started sobbing.
"And I can tell you that because of you, everyone in the troop is gonna get punished!" said a gruff voice.
Fluttershy was standing in a line. To her right, was Brian. Facing the line were two uniformed men. One was standing stock still, the other was visibly reprimanding the former for something he'd done. It was very dark, so Fluttershy could barely make out the two servicemen's faces. But she could recognize the gruff man as Sergeant-Major Marshall from what Brian had told her about the training. The other, she didn't know.
"W-what's happening?" Fluttershy asked Younger Brian.
"Jenkins forgot his weapon in the forest," whispered Brian.
Fluttershy looked at the ground, where she noticed the glimmer of a metal contraption, similar to Brian's.
"What the fuck is this?" yelled the instructor, pointing at the weapon.
"It's- it's my rifle, sir," answered Jenkins. He was visibly on the brink of tears.
"IT AIN'T A NORMAL FUCKIN' RIFLE!" shouted Marshall. "IT'S A FUCKIN' L1A1! IT'S AN ASSAULT RIFLE, YOU IDIOT!"
"Yes, sir!"
"And you treat it like a piece of shit? Well you know what? YOU'RE GONNA LIVE WITH THAT PIECE OF SHIT!"
"Yes, sir!"
"Imagine what'd happen if one of them IRA dickheads found it in the woods!" shouted Marshall. "I consider this to be a massive faux-pas, and I’d just love to go over to the Boss and ask him to FIRE you! Pick it up!" Jenkins bent down, and picked the weapon up. Marshall started walking away, but he abruptly turned around and shouted, "AND HOLD BACK YOUR TEARS OR I'LL KNOCK YOU OUT!" with his fist raised.
Fluttershy would have hated to be in Jenkins' place. She hated being shouted at, and she hated being looked at by everyone. A few tears of compassion rolled down her cheek, before her view became black again.
"So you were there when... it happened," said a man, who was sitting behind a desk. He was pretty old and had graying hair.
"Yes, Captain," answered Brian.
Fluttershy wanted to ask what had happened, but she also didn't wish to disrupt the conversation.
"And what did you see?" asked the officer, concerned. Looking to her left, Fluttershy saw that the sergeant-major was sitting in a chair in front of the desk, while Brian was standing up.
"Jenkins was in the head. He was... he had a gun."
"And what were you doing in the head?" asked the officer.
"I went to take care of my biological needs, sir," answered Brian.
"What did Jenkins do with the gun?"
"He had it to his temple," said Brian. "I wanted to reason with him, but I... I..." His voice broke.
"You didn't manage," said the captain.
Brian buried his face in his hands. "I'm sorry, sir," said Brian, his voice shaking.
Fluttershy looked at Brian. She'd only seen him in that state once, and it was when she'd given him a cuddle. From what she could gather, Jenkins had killed himself with a weapon, and Brian had seen it all.
"Sit down, recruit," said Marshall.
Brian obliged.
"I am very sorry for what you had to see, Brian," said the captain. "It wasn't your fault."
"Yeah," said the instructor. "No-one should have to go through that. Let alone do that." He patted Brian on the back.
"So..." said Brian, "what's going to happen to me?"
"Well," said the captain. "Jenkins had been depressed- and suicidal- in the past. He was mentally unstable. So Sergeant-Major Marshall isn't to blame, and you are even less. I'll give you an appointment with our psychiatrist, and you'll be able to resume your training after that."
"Alright," said Brian.
"Just bear in mind that you weren't responsible for what happened," said Marshall. "In my years, I've never had to face that sort of thing, and-" Marshall's monologue seemed to blur more and more, until the entire room seemed to be full of white noise. The scene became black once more.
It was a graveyard. It seemed to be the same as the one that Brian had described. The man was there, wearing his overcoat and leather gloves, standing in front of his father's grave. He looked unkempt and neglected, just as he was in Equestria. The urn that he had placed next to his father's final resting place had been shattered, and the ashed that had probably been there at some point had been swept away by the wind.
"It's been a while, dad," said Brian, in a croaky voice. He got a cigar from his inside pocket, chewed the end off, and lit it. He took a long drag, before continuing. "Mum never stopped loving you. Even though she said that you were the reason she had to leave this place. She used to say that you disagreed with Rhodesia's policies against blacks. Yet you stayed loyal to this country, because you saw what she could become. And still, despite your virtue and your ideas, you were killed by them. By the revolution." He took another long drag on his cigar. "Grace is dead, by the way. She died because of me. I suppose that makes us kind of the same, doesn't it? You were killed because of your mission. And Grace was killed because of mine."
Fluttershy just looked at the newest iteration of Brian. She felt sad for him. She finally understood what Brian meant when he said that Grace was 'gone'.
"So that brings me here," said Brian. "Grace is dead because of me. I've cut ties with Mattie because she's in danger as long as she's with me. I have nothing to live for anymore, and it's all because of me." At that point, Brian's voice broke. "She never deserved this, dad. She didn't deserve to die because of her idiot husband. I never got the opportunity to say goodbye to her..."
Fluttershy's eyes started watering. What she saw in front of her was truly tragic.
"You know," said Brian, "sometimes I wonder if it wouldn't have been better if that soldier hadn't given me a way out. It would have been better for everyone if I'd just continued living on the streets, and got shanked one day by someone bigger than me. I wouldn't have hurt anyone then."
Fluttershy's view had become black and featureless once again. The void hadn't become any less scary, but she reassured herself by thinking that it would give way to another scene soon enough.
But the scene that she was hoping for didn't come. In its place, some sounds made themselves known. They seemed shrill and distant, before becoming louder. They were voices, explosions, and diverse sounds that didn't sound very reassuring.
"We're losing him!" said an unknown voice.
"He's a tough bastard, he'll make it!" retorted Brian's.
"Three, two, one, clear!"
"Three, two, one, clear!"
The voice repeated these words multiple times.
"Time of death: eleven past nine. I'm sorry, sir."
Fluttershy jumped in shock as an explosion sounded right next to her. The incessant drumming of guns was incredibly close. From the darkness, came Brian's voice again.
"Baseplate, this is FOXHOUND actual! Requesting airstrikes on several Serbian assets south of our position, over!" shouted Brian, audibly desperate.
"FOXHOUND, this is Baseplate. Request for air support acknowledged. Over," replied a voice that sounded like it had gone through a speaker.
"Jesus Christ, there's so many!" cried a third voice.
"FOXHOUND, this is Baseplate," said the distorted voice. "The brass says no can do on that request. Your orders are to retreat from the town to the green line, over."
As Brian gave his reply, he spoke more and more desperately. "Baseplate, there are eight thousand refugees in this town, we will not be able to evacuate, over!"
"This is Baseplate. Your orders are to retreat from the town immediately."
"Negative, we can't leave them there!"
"FOXHOUND, your orders are to leave the town and retreat to the green line," repeated 'Baseplate'.
Brian didn't answer.
"FOXHOUND, I say again, your orders are to retreat immediately."
Still no answer.
"FOXHOUND, do you copy?"
Brian sighed, before answering, "Fine..."
Even without much context, the words that Fluttershy had heard were grim. Very grim. As the sounds died down once again, the filly decided to make sense of what she'd heard and seen. It had started with Jenkins committing Suicide. Then, another person losing their life. And then, a whole eight thousand people, if she understood the last scene correctly. And all of these visions had come, just after Grace had told Fluttershy that Brian had 'killed her'.
"There has to be an explanation," thought the pegasus. "But what is it?"
Had Brian really killed his wife? Or did he simply blame himself for her death? And how had she died anyway? She was about to tell herself that she'd seen enough, but a new scene came into focus, once more. This one seemed normal at first. It was a graveyard, at daybreak. There were the crosses and headstones, the gravel and dirt, the crows and the blackbirds.
As nothing happened, Fluttershy decided to explore the graveyard. The only sounds to break the silence were Fluttershy's hooves gingerly tapping the ground, and the blackbirds' sweet song. Fluttershy started feeling drowsy as she set off, as if she'd just woken up. Which fit pretty well with the rising sun and the blackbirds. She felt strange. Despite the fact that she was walking between rows of graves, part of her felt content. A smile of sorts appeared at the corners of her mouth, and she began to forget why she was even there. Strangely enough, contemplating these graves filled the pegasus with some sort of solace.
Looking to her right, Fluttershy noticed that someone was kneeling in front of a grave. Intrigued, the pegasus decided to go and see them. It was a girl. She was brunette, with a fringe, and freckles that ornated her face. She was wearing some kind of uniform, which consisted of a skirt and a blazer.
"Hello," said the girl, smiling as she saw Fluttershy.
"Hi," answered Fluttershy. "Who are you? If you don't mind telling me."
"I'm Rose," said the girl. "Rose Havelock."
"Rose Havelock?" asked Fluttershy. "Are you Brian's daughter?"
"Yes," answered Rose. "And you're Fluttershy."
"That's me," answered Fluttershy, beaming. That mysterious energy that made her feel content was also making her outgoing and serene, by the looks of things.
"So why are you here?" asked Rose.
"Just exploring Brian's mind, really," answered Fluttershy, pretty carelessly now. "What about you?"
"I'm waiting for my dad," said Rose.
"In a graveyard?"
"Yeah."
"Okay." Fluttershy looked at the grave. The words 'Grace Mary Bonneville Havelock' were carved on it. "So what does this all mean?" she asked.
"What do you mean?" asked Rose.
"This place," answered Fluttershy. "The graves, the trees... you..."
"Glad you asked," said Rose. "I mean, it's complicated. I suppose the author of this place intended for its symbolism to speak for itself, but I'll explain all of it for you. Brian's mind can be pretentious, after all. This graveyard? It's full of people that Brian has 'killed'." Rose lifted her hands and designated some airquotes with her fingers. "He doesn't know how many he has 'killed', so this place is eternal and infinite. You can walk down this path, but you won't go anywhere. That's the whole point, I suppose. And correct me if I'm wrong, but you've been feeling... how to put this... You feel satisfied, don't you? Accomplished?"
Fluttershy yawned again. "I suppose you could say that."
"Well," said Rose. "This graveyard, this solace you feel... They represent what I want for my dad."
"How so?"
"I want dad to see what I see. To lay his eyes on this graveyard. You see, every person that he's 'killed' rests here in his mind. But I want him to take a step back, and realize that he didn't cause all of this. He has killed, but he's got to realize that he didn't mindlessly kill. It was for a purpose. You see, that's his ego speaking again. This graveyard is packed with thousands of souls, not victims of his, but victims of events that he thinks he is responsible for. The ones he has really killed, like Bronco... and the ones he thinks he has, like mum."
"Wow," said Fluttershy, impressed. "But if you're saying that... and you're in his mind... doesn't he already know that?"
"Subconsciously, yes," said Rose. "He just needs to see these graves once, feel this solace that you feel, and move on. And maybe he can see me again, one day. Somewhere else than in his dreams. That's why I'm waiting for him."
"I see," said Fluttershy. "But if he isn't here... if he hasn't reached this realization... what is his finality? What is his goal?"
"Do you remember what he said to you, yesterday?" asked Rose. "He said that when Grace left him, it was the end of his story. That the rest was a mere epilogue."
"Um... yes?"
"In fact... When she died, he considered himself as dead. He decided that everything else, from there on out... was just an extra. So, trying to find something to guide him through his epilogue, he decided to reenlist in his Army. He seeks one last mission. He wants to ride out a last time, and die in combat. He decided that he wouldn't take his own life, but he'd lose it, defending Queen and Country. Defending the only thing that he truly loves, now that his wife is gone."
Fluttershy pondered that last statement. It was sad, if not downright depressing. But it made sense. "All of this brings a question," she said. "I just wanted to know... if he didn't really kill Grace, who did?"
At this question, Rose snorted. "I... well, I don't... I don't think I can tell you."
"Pretty please?" asked Fluttershy.
"I want to," said Rose. "But I... can't."
"Are you sure you can't?" pleaded Fluttershy.
"Yes, I'm sure."
Rose disappeared. The graves disappeared. The grass died and transformed gave way to featureless rock. Fluttershy felt the angst flow back.
Out of the darkness came a man. Tall, grizzled, and scarred. Brian had come to take control of his mind.
"I’m not ready for this," said Brian. “I’m sorry.”
"Brian?" asked Fluttershy, scared. "Please, listen to..."
"Go home," said Brian, calmly.
Fluttershy's vision became dark once more. But it wasn't the same darkness as before. That one seemed to grow, and grow, until Fluttershy couldn't feel her hooves anymore. She fell into an abyss. She was falling, falling...
The two mares woke up with a gasp. They looked at each other, then at Brian, who was still lying on his bed, curled up in a ball.
"Brian!" shouted Luna, leaping towards the soldier, and shaking him. "BRIAN!"
But it was no use. The soldier simply didn't wake up.
The scene had changed. Brian was no longer in the graveyard. Instead, he was in a house. A house he hadn't seen in a long time. And he could remember what had happened there only too well. The house was dead silent. Brian saw his likeness appear. Slightly Younger Brian was wearing an all-blue business suit, and holding a briefcase in his right hand. He looked cleaner and more civilized than he did now. He had traded his mullet for a regular haircut, and his beard was clean shaven, as had been expected when he'd started working at the British Consulate in Chicago.
"Gracie?" called Younger Brian. "I'm home!"
Initially, there was no answer. Just the gentle sound of leaves rustling outside. For a moment, Younger Brian looked around his house, satisfied. Almost pretentious.
Regular Old Brian remembered exactly what he had thought at that moment. "This is what they call 'The Dream'." And, as much as he hated his younger self, Brian still thought that Brian had done well for himself. A house, a car, a family... But what Younger Brian didn't know was that dreams often become nightmares when you get complacent with them.
"B-Brian?" asked Grace's soft voice. She sounded scared.
"What's wrong?" answered Brian.
"Come here."
Younger Brian, expecting the worst, got his sidearm from its holster. Holding it at shoulder level, the operative climbed upstairs, and soon arrived at the door to the single bedroom. He could hear Grace breathing uneasily on the other side, as well as the soft grunting of someone else. Brian instantly knew that someone else was in the room. And whoever they were, they weren't here to throw him a surprise party and give him a slice of cake.
Brian took a deep breath, slightly bent his knees, and placed his hand on the doorknob. And without further ado, he pushed the door open.
There was Grace. Standing in front of Brian, an expression of the utmost terror on her face. Behind her, holding a gun to her head, was a man. Bald, white, and tattoos going up his neck.
"Let her go!" yelled Brian instinctively, moving inside the room, wrapping his finger around the trigger and pointing the gun at the man's forehead.
Older Brian, who had followed his younger self upstairs, buried his head in his hands, and let the band play on.
One shot. The sound of a body falling to the floor. Another shot. Another body. More shots, more meaningless shots. And then, crying. Screaming. And then, nothing.
Brian felt heat. He opened his eyes, and saw that he was back in the cell. Feeling a familiar vibration in his left ear, Brian found his radio, strapped to his chest. He pushed the switch.
From the emitting end, Brian could hear a voice, which he recognized as his own. "It's time to hide from the bandanna in the mind. It sounds like a tangerine dog, mirroring the constellation on his shaved skull. He looked like a silver pony mashing his cats in while they relentlessly bow down to the recognizable tangent while Bobby's making happy accidents on a blank canvas in a dark room."
It was some insane babble, Brian couldn't make any sense of it. It turned to white noise, before the sounds faded from existence. Looking up, Brian saw that the featureless rock had somehow caught fire. But there was no smoke coming from anywhere, just fire.
But, spared by the flames, a piece of paper lay on the floor in front of him. Brian picked it up, and read the line that was written on it. There was something disturbingly familiar about the writing on the paper before him. It comprised of these pretty curves that only girls seemed to make.
"It's all just like TV," read the piece of paper.
The truth seemed to boil Brian alive. Cartoonish, pastel-coloured ponies, living together in a world run by a benevolent princess, so sweet that you could get diabetes from living in it. He was in a children's TV show. And that was the worst thing he could think of.
There came another voice in Brian's earpiece. "It's all just a bad dream, Brian, wake up!"
But if this was a TV show, where did Brian fit in with all of this? He certainly wasn't fit to feature in one. What with the profane language, the people he'd killed, his backstory... Brian realized that he wasn't anything more than one big cliché: the smoking, the gravelly voice, and that hate he constantly carried around for no reason like a French person carries his baguettes... He didn't belong there. But there was something else: the trite dialogue, his sudden appearance in a world that wasn't his own, and that paranoid feeling that someone was controlling his every step... he was in some sort of poorly-written fanfiction.
Brian gave up. He just didn't want to move anymore. So he lay down on the bed, and waited for the writer of his adventure to give him something else to do.
Brian woke up. Peering over him were Luna and Fluttershy. "Hello," he said, as if absolutely nothing had happened.
"Are- are you alright?" asked Fluttershy.
"I'm fine," said Brian sternly, getting up from his bed and going towards his tobacco pouch.
"But-" started Luna.
"I said I'm fine. Just leave me alone."