//------------------------------// // A Crack in the Mirror // Story: Perfect for Me // by The Equestrian Gentlecolt //------------------------------// The front door slammed closed with a bang. The sound reverberated through the library, shaking the books on their shelves and sending a cloud of newly settled dust jolting back into the air. Two very winded librarians skidded to a halt side by side, gasping at the dry air. Then the running caught up with them, and Twilight staggered against her twin, sending them both sprawling into a purple heap on the hard wooden floor. She lay against the other mare’s side, their barrels rising and falling with their labored breathing. They remained that way for several moments before her twin spoke. “That... could have gone better.” “You don’t say?” Twilight grumbled without lifting her head. “Feathers... We weren’t built for all this running.” “Yeah...” Her twin was silent for a thoughtful moment, during which the sound of their approaching pursuers grew steadily louder, then, “Hey, I’ll bet we could come up with a spell...” “Let’s focus on the more immediate problems first.” Twilight stood just as a hard knock sounded on the door. A stallion’s voice called from the other side. “We know you’re in there, changelings! Come along peacefully, and we won’t rough you up too badly before we turn you over to the guards!” “Good old Ponyville diplomacy,” Twilight muttered. She raised her voice. “We’re not changelings! And you’re not getting in, so you might as well just turn around and go home!” She rose from her place, gathering magic in preparation for the inevitable next step in the negotiations. There was silence from the door for a moment as the assembled ponies debated. Then the silence deepened from the uneasy quiet of ponies conversing under their breath, becoming the earnest but not particularly convincing stealth of far too many ponies trying not to sound like they were backing away from the door. Twilight began to count in her head as she trotted toward the door, her spell already being cast. They’d be making their next move in about three... two... one... She opened the door. An amber-coated earth pony careened into the shield that stretched across the frame with a resounding thud, then reeled back onto his haunches. Twilight peered down at him critically. “Not really battering ram material,” she observed, arching an eyebrow. “How’d you get roped into leading the charge?” Caramel’s sheepish look told her all she needed to know. She didn’t bother to wait for him to form a coherent answer. “You volunteered, didn’t you?” The stallion didn’t reply, but the slight blush on his cheeks was answer enough. Twilight rolled her eyes. “Great. The strapping young stallion has come to save the damsel in distress from her changeling captors. How very brave of you. And you even brought your own army.” She eyed the crowd behind him. “Excuse me while I swoon.” “Which reminds me,” the other Twilight piped up from beside her, “the third Sir Ironhooves book came in.” Her horn lit up as she retrieved a nearby hardcover and tossed it through the shield to Caramel. “I already signed it out for you.” Caramel grabbed the book and shot an embarrassed look at the crowd, who had gone from milling uncertainly to watching with bemused curiosity. “Uh... thanks?” “Don’t mention it,” Twilight said with a snort. “Now, here’s something for you all to ponder, if you still think we’re changelings. Could anypony but the real me do this?” With a flick of her head and a flash of her horn, a shimmering aura of force expanded outward from the tree. Caramel had to scramble back to avoid the quickly growing shield, rejoining the rest of the crowd several paces further away. “Bye now!” the other Twilight called through the shield, waving. Then she reinforced the spell with a soundproofing enchantment, and Twilight shut the door. They shared a glance, then shook their heads. “Ponies sometimes,” Twilight said wryly. “Can’t live without ‘em, can’t replace ‘em with useful simulacrums,” her twin agreed. “Not yet, at least.” “I think he likes us.” “Hmm?” Twilight tilted her head, suddenly not following. “Caramel. I think he likes us.” “Huh. Funny way of showing it. Anyway, enough messing around. We’ve got archaeology to do, and those rocs aren’t going to move themselves.” She looked around for her assistant. “Spike! Where are you? I need The Big Book of Bigger Birds!” “We, er, left him at the party,” her twin reminded her, scanning the shelves. “Here it is.” She picked out the book and hefted it over to Twilight. “Thanks.” Twilight took the book from her twin’s magic, flipped to the section that described their avian archaeological antagonists, and settled down to begin her reading. “I guess we’d better go pick him up after the mob clears out.” “Yeah...” Her twin settled down beside her. Twilight leaned against the mare’s side comfortably, smiling as the warmth of her started to seep through her coat. Sadly, the peaceful moment couldn’t last, and her twin spoke up again. “You know, I bet Fluttershy would know how to deal with rocs.” Twilight flipped a page with her magic. “Hmm, probably.” Seeing that no further response was forthcoming, the other unicorn fell back into thoughtful silence. Twilight shifted her weight slightly, then settled back against her, eyes scanning lazily down the page. “Look at this.” Her twin lifted her hoof and pointed out a passage just ahead of where Twilight was reading. “ ‘Rocs are prideful creatures, and never back down from a challenge...’ I’ll bet if Rainbow Dash—” “Uh-huh.” Twilight flipped the page out from under her double’s hoof, her eyes never leaving the text. The other mare pulled back in surprise, but didn’t comment. Instead, she folded her forelegs in front of her and laid her head on them in an unmistakably sullen pose. “Or,” she said after a minute, lifting her head again, “we could ask Pinkie. She grew up on a roc farm, after all.” In retrospect, even if she hadn’t noticed the sullen tone, even if the incongruity of the statement hadn’t stuck her as odd, Twilight probably should have noticed the expectant tensing of the mare against her. She probably should have set the book down and paid attention. Instead, she continued to skim the text in front of her and answered with a distracted “Mhmm.” The ice in her voice, however, was impossible to ignore. “That... was a joke.” The comfortable warmth left Twilight’s side as her twin pulled away, fixing her with an accusing glare. “Are you even paying attention to me?” “Nope,” Twilight answered absently. “Reading.” The sound of paper against paper was the only noise in the library as she turned the next page. And then the next. Finally, her twin spoke again. “...I guess that’s fair.” She settled back against Twilight, and quietly resumed scanning the open page. “Wow, they steal shiny things too. They’re like giant magpies.” ...the Rockies Rock Roc is the largest of the roc family, weighing in at... Twilight flipped the page, ears flicking in annoyance. ...spend most of the winter season in hibernation. In this state, they can easily be mistaken for natural parts of the landscape... Twilight gritted her teeth, and turned the page again. ...was historically considered to be as much of an accomplishment as defeating a dragon, and was significantly less likely to cause an international incident... Twilight slammed the book onto the floor, making her companion jump. “We don’t need their help!” “I... didn’t say we did,” her twin said, eyeing her warily. “You implied it,” Twilight grumbled. “With your... not-talking.” “Now you’re being ridiculous.” “...I know.” Twilight’s tail began to lash. “But we don’t. Come on, we have enough power between the two of us to level Ponyville. Probably twice. We can take a couple of giant birds.” “Of course we can,” her twin agreed quickly. “We don’t need their help.” “Exactly.” Satisfied that she was back in agreement with herself, Twilight picked the book up again and returned to her reading. Silence descended on the library, save for the occasional muffled thump of ponies trying to break through the shield outside. The two mares lay side-by-side, the horn of one or the other occasionally lighting up to turn a page or grab a new book. Eventually, the noise outside subsided, the crowd apparently giving it up for a lost cause. Or possibly going back for reinforcements. “So, I was thinking.” Twilight’s twin was the first to break the silence. “We do that a lot,” Twilight replied, still engrossed in her reading. “Uh huh. Well, it’s just that, when you said ‘the real me’... that got me thinking. Which one of us is that? I mean, which one of us is the real, er, us?” That question warranted her full attention. Twilight set her book down, tilting her head quizzically at her twin. “What do you mean? We both are, of course. That was the whole point of the spell: to make two of us.” “Well, yes. But it’s impossible to have two of the exact same pony. Technically, we diverged as soon as we stepped out of different mirrors.” Twilight shook her head. “Minor details like that don’t count. What I said was that only the real me could do that. Could you have cast the shield?” “Well, yes, of course.” “Then I obviously meant both of us.” Twilight put a foreleg over her twin’s withers. “Tell me, Twilight Sparkle. What would happen to you if we canceled the spell right now?” Her twin leaned into the embrace, but frowned. “I’d... go back to being one of me?” “Right. And then what would happen to me?” “Well, I guess you’d go back to being one of me too.” “Exactly.” Twilight smiled at her double. “Yes, we’ve disagreed on a few things, but we got into arguments with ourself way before we cast that spell. Sure, in theory, we might have diverged slightly. And in theory, there’s no difference between theory and practice.” “...but in practice, there is,” the other unicorn finished, her expression relaxing into a smile of her own. “You’re right. I’m right. In practice, we really are both me. And,” she said, the smile growing sly, “I love me.” “I love me too,” Twilight said with a smirk. “The only pony who truly understands me.” She leaned forward slightly, and her muzzle met her twin’s in a kiss. The kiss would have quickly turned passionate, if not for the reverberating bang of heavy artillery fire outside. Twilight’s ears flattened back against her head and she pulled back quickly. “Oh for pony’s sake.” Both mares got up and hurried to the front door, yanking it open. Neither was prepared for what they saw. Their shield looked like it was under siege by a party decorating service. Tablecloths were strewn across the outside of it. Plastic cutlery had become embedded in it, as if by massive force, causing sparking rifts in its surface. An enormous bouquet of balloons had become attached to its top, and were making a concerted effort to lift it from its place entirely. And the streamers. The streamers were everywhere. The Twilights stared, dumbfounded, at the spectacle until they noticed its cause: a bright pink pony was outside, waving her forelegs for their attention, bouncing up and down next to their other friends, Spike, and... the party cannon. Of course. Pinkie Pie’s weapon of mass festivity stood aimed at their home, its muzzle still smoking. Twilight dispelled the shield with a resigned sigh, causing a cascade of streamers to tumble down onto the library. The balloons, suddenly unhitched from their place, drifted lazily into their newfound freedom. “What is it now, Pinkie Pie?” Pinkie grinned at them sheepishly. “Umm... we missed you?” Twilight glanced around at the brightly decorated wasteland that had once been an understated palette of greens and browns, her expression flat. “It appears you didn’t.” Pinkie’s grin only widened. “Well,” Rarity broke in, “we had to get your attention somehow.” She gestured at the area around them in general. “As you can see, your pursuers have left. After they were unable to break through your shield spell, they calmed down a bit and we were able to explain things to them rationally. Now, won’t you come back to the party with us?” “Thanks, girls, but no thanks,” Twilight said, shaking her head. “We’ve got a lot of studying to do if we’re going to complete our assignment from Princess Celestia. We should really get back to it.” “Maybe we could help?” Fluttershy suggested. “I mean, if there’s anything we could do...” “No.” To Twilight’s surprise, her twin answered first. “I appreciate the offer, Fluttershy, but we can handle this on our own. We are the princess’s personal protege, after all.” “Well, okay. That’s okay.” Fluttershy’s expression became suddenly determined. “But if you need anything from us... you tell us. Okay? Don’t just, um, try to handle everything on your own and... get into trouble...” Her determination wavered, and she hurried to clarify, “Not that I’m saying you would of course! It’s just... you know.” Twilight’s twin smiled reassuringly. “I know, I tend to go overboard sometimes. But don’t worry! I’ve got myself to look out for me now.” Fluttershy looked unconvinced. “That’s... um, that’s sort of what I’m worried about, actually.” “Well, don’t be. We’ve got this covered. There’s enough magic between the two of us to level half of Ponyville. A couple of giant birds aren’t going to give us any trouble once we’ve had some time to recharge. We’ll see you later, okay girls?” As they walked back into the library, Twilight couldn’t help but notice that their friends didn’t look reassured at all. She turned to her twin after the door closed. “They don’t trust us.” “I know. I wish they would have a little faith in us sometimes. It’s not like we’re going to try to buck an entire orchard worth of apples all by ourselves or something.” “Or fly off the handle because we think our friends don’t want to go to our parties,” Twilight said with a chuckle. “Yeah, or—” A knock interrupted them. Twilight opened the door again to find Rainbow Dash holding a grumpy-looking Spike. “You forgot this,” she offered helpfully. “Oh, Spike! Good.” Twilight grabbed the little dragon in her magic and shut the door on Rainbow Dash. “We’re going to need you to compile all our resources on magical animal control techniques.” “You know, you could at least—” “Chop chop, Spike,” Twilight said firmly. “We’re on a tight schedule here.” “But I—” “Less talking, more books.” “Alright, alright, I’m going,” Spike began the climb up the ladder to the first shelf, grumbling to himself. “I don’t get paid enough for this...” “I heard that!” Twilight snapped. She trotted over to her twin, who was already starting into the next book, and settled down beside her, pulling one over for herself. Soon, quiet returned to the library.