Trixie awoke with a start, scanning her surroundings.
It only took the box filled room and stinky old recliner she was curled up on to realize right away where she was. With a huff, she let out an exhausted sigh, then rested her chin on the arm rest once more, careful to miss a duct tape patch from snagging her fur.
Why was she even here? What point was there? Thomas had taken that tramp Hagity with him to bed for a late night romp, she surely could look after the idiot for one night. The only times she’d had to sleep here was when he’d had too much to drink. After all, she didn’t want the idiot to go dying before her wagon was done.
Ignoring those times when she woke up in bed with him, that is.
With another deep breath, Trixie tried closing her eyes to go back to sleep. Another noise made her ears twitch towards the doorway; the sound of feet on wood floor made her crack open an eye.
She wasn’t sure of how much sleep she had actually gotten thanks to those two’s noises bouncing down the hall, chasing her hopes of a semi comfortable sleep. Mocking her, teasing…
“I am not jealous,” Trixie mumbled, Hagity’s earlier words bouncing around in her head.
There was a lout pat, like someone placing their hand on the door frame, and more footsteps. Trixie jolted when the chair suddenly rocked back, and a very unsteady Thomas looked down at her.
“Draps, occupied.”
He didn’t appear to notice she was awake, both of her ears and left eye following his movements as he stood in front of the chair with only a pair of boxers on. Trixie went to open her mouth and yell at the lout, but he quickly fell to the floor, back resting against the front of the chair.
Then he reached a hand around, leaning into the chair and making it rock, and patted Trixie’s head.
She went to bite, but he’d already taken his hand back.
“You’re too good for me, you know that?”
At Thomas’ words, Trixie blinked, confused at first, but quickly let out a doubtful huff. He continued on.
“All we do is fight, and bicker, and pick on one another. But in a twisted sorta way… I like that.”
Trixie harrumphed, tail flicking at his left shoulder in agitation.
It was quiet for so long, that Trixie had begun to nod off again when the clank of glass bottles woke her up. Cracking an eye open, she glared at the human as he leaned forward, searching for any bottles with liquid in them.
Truth was, she had done the same hours ago, and already knew the answer.
“Drats.” There was a clatter of glass hitting floor and other bottles, Thomas having tossed it away.
“Serves you right,” Trixie mumbled, chin still resting on the arm rest.
“Yeah, that’s what she said too. Serves me right.”
“Well, Hagity has some smarts about her.”
Thomas was quiet for a few moments, spinning a random empty bottle.
“Not her.”
“What?”
“Rarity didn’t say that. My… Racheal.”
“Oh yes, the one from the recordings. Trixie could never understand how anything could love an asshole like you long enough to wed,” Trixie said, venom trailing her voice.
Silence took over. Trixie watched Thomas’s head slump, breathing gently. She took his passed out nature to finally get some sleep herself.
“Asshole.”
At Thomas’ voice, Trixie let out a huff, opening both eyes and facing Thomas’ back. “Yes, you are.”
He looked up at the glass screened box. Pointing towards it, he began spelling out the scratched letters that decorated the screen as his finger went from letter to letter.
“A. S. S. H. O. L. E.”
“Very good, you can spell. Now may Trixie please sleep? She has a morning shift tomorrow at Sun and Fun’s.”
Another break of silence.
“Have you ever been happy, Trixie?”
“What kind of dumb question is that?” Trixie asked with a growl.
“A serious one.”
“Yes, of course Trixie has. When she is sleeping in her own bed, in her own wagon, far, far away from this dump.”
Thomas let out a chuckle. “So that’s a no?”
Trixie stared daggers at the back of his head, a tempting, not moving target for her to smack a hoof with. She held back, barely, and let out a sigh.
“Yes, Trixie has. Long, long time ago.”
“It was something special, wasn’t it?”
“Of course. When Trixie got her cutie mark. She knew right away what her destiny was.”
“Humans aren’t as special to get something stamped on their ass telling them what they’re good at.” He raised a hand to his face. “I have callists on my hands. Scars, from all the wood work I’ve done. Is that my cutie mark?”
“That’s stupid. Of course not.”
His hand dropped to his side. “Yeah, you’re right.”
“Of course, Trixie is always right.”
Trixie watched as Thomas continued to sit still. She didn’t dare try to rest just yet, not until the stupid fool was laying on the hard wood floor, drooling all over himself.
“You’ve never seen the tape, have you?”
Trixie blinked.
“Tape?”
“Yeah.”
“Trixie has enough duct tape surrounding her, thank you.”
For the first time, Thomas turned himself around to face Trixie. She couldn’t help but notice the blank expression upon his face.
“No, not that.”
Placing his hand on the chair, he used it to stand up, and wandered over towards a seemingly random box. Trixie watched as he dug through it, shoving things inside that made a clatter as he did so. Quickly, like he knew right where it was, he withdrew a small rectangular object. White with what looked like a lazy rainbow colored stripe on the face, and Polaroid in black.
It turned out, however, that was an outer sleeve, as he pulled out a black object that matched the same shape as its case. He tossed the case to the ground, and approached the glass screened box.
It was not often when Thomas surprised Trixie with something new, and quite frankly she was proud at times that she knew more things about the human than other ponies, save for Bob of course.
When he pressed a button on the front, and the screen came to life… she realized there was still more things she did not understand about the human, or his technology.
Remaining quiet, Trixie continued to watch as Thomas fiddled with inserting the black rectangle into a flap covered slot, the black and white fuzzy screen illuminating most of the room with a small flashing green 03 in a corner.
With a final try, he inserted the black box into the slot, and Trixie watched as it sucked it in on its own. The static like screen changed to one of solid blue, nearly destroying her night vision. After a few painful blinks, she noticed white words that were unrecognizable at a glance flashing before the screen was taken over by black, with white wavy lines jumping around madly.
Approaching the recliner, Thomas reached down into the side pocket and pulled out another black object, only this one much smaller and covered in buttons. He returned to his position on the floor, pointing the object at the screen. A small green bar appeared, filling in slowly as Thomas continued to press the button. An audible crackle and pop filled the room, and within seconds the image on the screen changed.
Trixie was not sure what to expect from the box, but when a human’s face that was not Thomas’ appeared it took her off guard.
They say curiosity killed the cat. Trixie had the unfortunate failings of a similar fate, the images constantly jumping around between other humans, the sounds of talk, laughter, and music in the background as the screen fought to focus. It was all too curious as she’d see glimpses of groups of humans, and she sat up straight on the chair to properly see.
Once the show settled and allowed focus, it showed what Trixie would call an elderly human. The face full of wrinkles, bald, and several sun spots adorning the head. It seemed to be holding a black device over its shoulder, a little red light blinking. Trixie quickly realized it was, in fact, facing a mirror.
“Dad, what the hell are you doing?” came a voice.
“I had to get the camera set up. Make sure the lighting settings were correct.” spoke the clearly elderly male holding the camera, as Trixie figured out.
“We have a professional camera guy filming the wedding. You don’t need to bother.”
“I know, but his fancy technogarble won’t connect to my TV at home. This way I can still watch it when I feel like picking on Tom.”
“Thanks, Dad, for the support.” Trixie’s ears perked further at the obvious voice of Thomas from the screen.
The elderly man gave a thumbs up, much like she’d seen Thomas give once in a while, and he began walking away from the mirror. The next shot showed three males, one being a younger Thomas in a black tuxedo, and on either side of him two others that shared similar traits, but in a more decorated uniform not unlike those of the dress clothes of Royal Guards. The tallest one had many pins and medals on his chest, while the other, shortest, lacked any at all.
The two Guards had an arm wrapped around Thomas, hugging him and grinning like mad. Thomas, for his own part, was trying to shove them away, but smiling nonetheless. Before long, Thomas had tried to get out of their grip, but the two refused to let go. Suddenly they began to get into a small fight, and only the voice of the elderly man could break it up.
It was strange, as Trixie watched the small numerical clock in the top corner countdown the minutes, which quickly became a half hour as the elderly man, who Trixie figured out quickly was Thomas’ father, talked with others. Asking for anything embarrassing, and many of which things Trixie would, in any other capacity, save for later black mail.
All through this, Trixie would give tentative glances down at Thomas, who would shift around once in a while, the only sign that he was still awake. He didn’t speak, didn’t acknowledge her being there with him watching this film.
Apparently, the wedding itself had already happened, because she’d see Thomas with what she’d suspect was a human woman, if the large chest mammaries were to be a judging factor. Also the clean white wedding gown, but she’d seen stallions sporting the traditional female gown so who was to say if humans didn’t also change things up?
This was the reception, the blending of two families which seemed to favor Racheal’s side. The only family Thomas had was his brothers and father, and his best friend Will who Trixie had heard many stories about.
Trixie’s eyes were drooping closed, her tiredness trying to overpower her curiosity. She was getting ready to close her eyes when there was a booming voice from the screen.
“Alright everyone, it’s time for the couple’s first dance together. Please, open up the floor for Mister and Missus Baker!”
Trixie’s eyes opened wider, watching the display as people moved, and in the center of the room stood Thomas and Racheal.
“Her father passed away a year before this.”
Trixie looked down to Thomas, whose head was leaning back into the cushion of the chair.
“When Rach’s parents got married, their first song was Can’t Help Falling in Love by Elvis. Her father loved his music, and her mother suggested it as well. Granted, I’d figured that out way before and already had the song in mind.”
Suddenly, beautiful music started up, and a voice began singing. Melancholy is the word Trixie would use to describe it. Like remembering who, and how, a couple had fallen for each other. This was a song devoted to love, and it was beautiful.
An odd sound came from Thomas, watching the screen intently. It was such a strange sound, coming from the human, that Trixie didn’t realize what it was until she looked down at his shivering form.
Crying. Thomas Baker, the pain in her flank, loud mouthed jackass, was crying. Was he missing her? Did he have regrets for what he did? What happened between the two? His younger brother who’d been killed in conflict?
Whatever it was, the song, and their dance, continued uninterrupted while Thomas quietly wept, sitting on the floor in nothing but his boxers. Surrounded by empty liquor bottles, huddled around the recliner she was laying in right now.
Nagging thoughts of worry and sorrow filled Trixie, something she hadn’t felt in ages. How many nights did Thomas just sit in this chair, thinking about his life? His choices? Drinking away his worries and thoughts until they didn’t matter? How many times did he watch this film in such a state? Or listen to that black recording box?
They were plugged in for a reason. He had to just sit here and listen to them. Hating himself. Much like Trixie would do in her wagon, out on the roads of Equestria, after another failed show. Or when the townsponies would chase her out, shouting she was nothing but a fake, and she’d huddle in her bed in the pouring rain. Her leaky roof dripping on her as she cried.
Her first time in Oasis, Thomas had taken care of that leaky roof, and a few other things she didn’t even point out. Over the years, she’d find other small excuses to come out of her way, just to have Thomas look at her wagon and fix what was needed.
And then Ponyville happened, and she had nothing.
While she worked for bits at Sunny’s, he’d painstakingly taken on the job of building her a new wagon. She’d seen it, out back behind his shop, looking completed, if not nearly so. The beautiful carvings, all the stars and moon shapes that matched her cape and hat. All she required now was the bits to pay it off, and she would leave again.
Or would she?
“I’m sorry,” whispered Thomas. “I did it all over again.”
In a shocking move, even to Trixie herself, she draped her tail over Thomas’ left shoulder, hugging him with the limb.
“We can’t change the past, Tom.”
“No, not that.” He wiped his face with a hand, and using his other patted Trixie’s tail.
“Trixie, don’t be mad but… your wagon’s been done for a couple weeks now.”
She couldn’t help but grin at that. “Yes, Trixie’s known.”
The slow song had ended, and now something more upbeat was playing, with multiple couples out dancing. It looked like Thomas was dancing with his then mother in law.
“I… didn’t want you to go yet.”
“How could she? Trixie still owes you the bits.”
Thomas shook his head.
“I’d have let you go anyway. You’d pay me back. Always do, even if it takes years.”
True as that was, Trixie was all kinds of things, but a cheat she wasn’t. Thomas would get his bits for his hard work, even if she had to work on a rock farm.
Trixie watched as Thomas moved his mouth, wanting to say something, but struggled to put the words together. Sleep, however, was coming for Trixie, even with the music playing and humans joyous laughter and dancing mixed in.
Leaning forward, Trixie rested her head on top of Thomas’, and hugged her tail to his chest tighter. His shivering stopped, his breathing evened out, and before long he fell asleep. Trixie closed her eyes, the last image on the screen she saw was of Racheal and Thomas’ father dancing. A single tear ran down her cheek, as she too succumbed to her own weariness.