//------------------------------// // 13. “What else have you been lying about?” // Story: Playing With My Heart // by ObabScribbler //------------------------------// A/N: So about that two year hiatus that made everyone think I wasn't going to finish this fic ... 13. “What else have you been lying about?” To say that Vinyl was nervous about going down to the lobby would be a heartless understatement. She approached the clutch of ponies with a growing sense of unease that did not abate when a slate blue mare, who had such an abundance of lilac mane and tail that it was bursting from her scrunchies, turned and ran at her. “Jing-a-Ling! Oh, you naughty girl!” The mare scooped up the foal and hugged her tight. “What have I told you about wandering off?” “I’m sorry Mommy.” Jing-a-Ling’s voice was subdued but that did not stop her sticking out her tongue at an identical twin sister hiding behind her mother’s legs. “I didn’t mean to make you worry.” “You’re in trouuuublllee,” hummed her twin. “Shut up, Ting-a-Ling.” Melody shot both of her sisters a dirty look and then cleared her throat. “Mom this is – and I still can’t believe I’m saying this – Vinyl Scratch aka DJPon3 aka the coolest pony on the planet. Jing-a-Ling was with her upstairs.” The mare’s eyes rounded. “I am so unbelievably sorry for her bothering you, ma’am. I turned away for one minute to sign some paperwork and when I looked back, she was gone.” Vinyl waved a dismissive hoof. “Nah, it’s fine. Jingy and I know each other from when she was a patient here. Right Jingy?” Jing-a-Ling giggled into her mother’s tangled mane. “She called me Jingy.” “It’s all good,” Vinyl continued. “I offered to come down and beg on her behalf for you to go easy on her. She’s a good kid. She meant well in coming to see me and check how I’m doing.” Melody fizzed beside her like a bottle of shaken soda. “Isn’t she just the best, Mom? Isn’t she even cooler in person?” Her mother blinked at Vinyl with the half-lidded look of someone frazzled from too much stress and too little sleep. Vinyl knew that look well, so it came as no surprise when the other mare’s brows rose in sudden shock as her daughter’s words finally fell into place in her mind. “You’re that musician from all the papers, aren’t you? Oh goodness, my Melody loves your music. Well, she loves all music but she seems to like dancing in her bedroom to yours the most. I’ve told her over and over to not bounce on her bed in time with it–” “Mo-om!” “Sorry honey. And thank you so much for bringing Jing-a-Ling back, ma’am.” “It’s fine. Really.” “I totes thought Jing-a-Ling was, like, lying about having a for-real celebrity join her for those dumb therapy sessions,” Melody went on. “But it, like, turns out –” “They’re not dumb!” Jing-a-Ling protested at such a volume that the three ponies sitting in the adjacent Waiting Room raised their heads. The bespectacled Receptionist frowned at them over her desk. “She’s right,” Vinyl added in a much softer tone, seeking to de-escalate what might be a potential tantrum. “Music therapy isn’t something a lot of ponies know about and it’s easy to write it off as just some new-fangled artsy fartsy nonsense, but it’s got some pretty interesting things it can offer ponies who haven’t taken to regular therapies. It can help improve mood, mentality and emotional healing, which in turn can help ponies develop a more positive self-image. There’s this researcher in Van Hoofer who claims it can help patients with memory disorders, like dementia and Alzheimer’s, and it’s already proven to be beneficial to anxiety disorders and ponies with depression, all through the use of something that’s already accessible in everyday life: music.” Vinyl stared around her at the suddenly silent ponies. “What?” “Dang, child!” Pearl’s unmistakable voice rang out. “Them’s some gussied up words right there! You eat a dictionary on your way down them stairs?” Vinyl spotted her rising from a chair in the Waiting Room like a wave of cresting blue water. In the chair beside hers, a pinched and nervous face shrank back, as if trying to hide behind her well-dressed bulk. Vinyl fumbled. “I … I read a few things after I spoke to Medley last time.” She shrugged. “Just a few articles. No biggie. I’ve read a lot of stuff lately. Even whole books. I’m on the third Harry Trotter novel. I even do the voices when I read them out loud to Tavi.” She wondered why she abruptly felt so defensive, like she had been caught doing something she should not. She had been interested when Medley first introduced her to the concept of music therapy but it had all gone on the back burner while other, more pressing issues reared their ugly heads. What was wrong with that? Pearl’s expression bespoke something like pride as she trotted over. She turned and gestured at the pony to whom she had been speaking. Cautiously, Willow followed her. Because of course Pearl was talking to Willow, Vinyl thought bleakly. Of course. Because things aren’t complicated enough without Saph’s mom getting involved in my social life like … She paused, a half formed thought lingering just at the edge of her mind. She realised Jing-a-Ling’s mother was talking and tuned back in to hear the end of her sentence. “… right, I work in Early Years Education and Professor Quick Bell’s paper on the effects of music lessons in pre-schoolers shows there’s a demonstrable upshot in creativity, literacy and numeracy when they enter formal schooling. I’m a little surprised you’d know about his research coming out of Van Hoofer University, Miss Scratch.” Vinyl stared for a moment before realising she was meant to reply. “Oh! Well, y’know, I’ve dabbled. Well, dibble-dabbled. Dibbly-dabbly-dabbled. Dibbly-dabbly-dibble-dabbled. Aheh.” Internally she released a barrage of curse words at the confused look this provoked. For once someone actually thought she was intelligent and she responded with improv performance poetry. Wonderful. She coughed into a hoof. “I mean, I’m strictly a casual hobbyist sort of thing. No biggie.” “Oh. Well. Still, I’m glad to hear his research is reaching ponies beyond those he might have expected.” “Totally, uh …” She fumbled again. “Sorry, I didn’t catch your name?” “Lavender Key.” “Right. Totally, Mrs Key.” “Miss.” “Oh.” Vinyl resisted the urge to walk up to the receptionist’s desk and beat her skull against it until she passed out. “Then … totally, Miss Key.” Awkward silence fell on them with the grace and subtlety of a bowling ball dropped from a great height. “Well … I’m glad Jing-a-Ling is safe,” said Lavender eventually. “If you’ll excuse us, I need to finish filling out some paperwork.” “Oh, of course, totally.” Vinyl waved as the little family returned to the front desk. Jing-a-Ling snuggled into her mother’s mane, rubbing her cheek close like a kitten advocating for affection. It was so adorable that it made Vinyl smile despite herself. Unfortunately, with their departure she was left with the prospect of a much more difficult conversation. She turned to Pearl. “Hey, Pearl? Could I have a minute alone with Willow?” “Sure, child.” Pearl gestured towards the two seats they had just vacated. It seemed as good as anyplace to sit. She wasn’t really in any position to demand they return to 219 and the café had proven to Vinyl that being in a relaxing environment was no guarantee she would be any better at conversation than when she was uncomfortable. “Uh, Willow?” Vinyl wondered whether this was all moot and Willow was too offended to even talk to her anyway. This was the second time she had treated the other mare poorly and Vinyl knew more than anypony that second chances were hard won and rare. For a moment it looked as though Willow was about to make an excuse and flee. Then her neck straightened, as if she had come to a decision within herself. Her ears unpeeled themselves from laying flat against her skull and she nodded, leading the way back to the seats. Vinyl followed. The chairs were just as uncomfortable as the night she first arrived in the hospital. The hard plastic squeaked against Vinyl’s rump. She gripped both edges with her forehooves, not sure whether she was trying to prevent noise or prevent herself from running away. “Willow, listen, I need to apologise.” Willow tilted her head to one side, confusion written across her features. “You already apologised. Remember? Hot chocolate and awkward conversation.” Her eyes flicked to her own lap. “It’s okay. You don’t need to –” “Actually, I do, but not for the reason you’re thinking.” “I … what?” “Willow, I need to apologise for running out on you last time we spoke. It wasn’t cool and I’m sorry.” “I … do you just like apologising or something?” “No. Considering how much I have to do it, I’m actually really crappy at it. And this time is even worse because you don’t even know the thing I’m apologising for since it was something that happened after I left you last time.” “I … what?” Willow blinked at her, nonplussed. “Wait!” She waved a hoof and something like exasperation perforated her brows. “Wait just a blasted moment. I have been psyching myself up to apologise to you.” “Huh?” Vinyl was momentarily stymied. “Why?” “Because I very clearly freaked you out when last we spoke. One moment you seemed fine, then suddenly you looked terrified and then ran away from me. I didn’t really understand what I said wrong but I had to have done something so I’ve been trying to figure out how to apologise and what to apologise for.” Vinyl stared. “Willow, I’ll be frank with you; I ran off because talking to you reminded me so much of Octavia that I freaked myself out. I thought I was about to burst into tears right there in front of everypony so … I bailed. It was a coward move and I should have explained myself better – or, y’know, at all. You didn’t do anything wrong. It was all me. So, uh, yeah. This is me apologising for you feeling like you had to apologise about what happened last time I tried to apologise.” Willow’s lower jaw dropped open, as if she was searching for something to say. She touched a hoof tip to her lower lip, raised that same hoof towards Vinyl and inhaled to speak, then stopped. Eventually she shook her head. “The logic of that sentence is so confusing it’s tying my brain in knots.” She shook her head. “But … um … I forgive you?” “You haven’t heard the rest yet.” “There’s more?” Willow’s voice cracked a little. “Yeah, but again, not your fault. Sapphire came to talk to me afterwards. I was still majorly freaked and … not coping well. I mean, when do I ever cope well with emotional breakdowns? Ha ha.” Like a pebble in the ocean, her attempt at laughter sank without trace. “We fought. I have to apologise to her too, actually. I saw you talking to her mom just now.” Willow nodded. “Ms Sands was very nice. She recognised me and came to chat. She said you might be coming to speak to me, though she didn’t say what about – which, to be honest, actually made me even more nervous until you got here.” “Well, you see, the thing Saph and I fought about … was you.” Willow boggled. “Me?” “In a roundabout way. Saph brought up that Octavia may never wake from her coma. She wanted me to confront the possibility that she may be like she is now forever. And that I should think about … possibly dating again if she does, since everypony in the world knows I’m gay now and I don’t have to hide it anymore.” “And … this came up … in the context of … me?” Willow whispered. “… Yeah.” She froze so thoroughly it was like she had been turned to stone by the Elements of Harmony themselves. Even though she was not looking directly at her anymore, Vinyl felt the change in her posture. “I’m sorry,” Vinyl croaked. “I don’t mean to insult you be making assumptions about your sexuality or me or anything like that. I had a moment of freak-out triggered by you being nice to me that made me confront some bits of reality I’d been avoiding. I hope you’re not insulted.” Vinyl ploughed on, hurrying to finish speaking before Willow could intercede or walk off entirely. “Especially because … I’m not ready yet. I’m ready to think about the possibility existing, which is a step above where I was before, but … I’m not ready to think about what I’ll do then. I’m kind of broken in here.” She tapped at the side of her head and the centre of her chest. “A big ol’ mess that took years and a lot of poor choices to get this way. And it’s probably going to take years for me to fix that mess, or at least figure some of it out so I can start fixing it. For now, it’s a baby step in the right direction. But baby steps are pretty important, right?” She blew out a breath. “So … what I’m saying is … I’m sorry for bringing you into my mess, Willow. You’re really nice and didn’t deserve that.” Willow was silent for a long moment. When she did speak again, her voice was hushed and slow, as if she was turning each word over to check it for imperfections before letting it out of her mouth. “You talk about your life being complicated at the moment. Well, mine is pretty complicated too right now. I’m making some big changes and considering some even bigger upheavals. Reconnecting with my father, whom I haven’t had a personal connection with since I was little, changing my name, reconciling those changes with my mother who is … not very good at dealing with anything to do with my father, potentially moving to Manehattan, plus other things that, honestly, scare me silly at the mere thought of them. Until recently I thought I knew where my life was going. Now? I’m not sure of anything anymore. It’s rather a scary feeling.” “You’re moving to Manehattan?” “Potentially. It has … been wonderful getting to know my father again as an adult. It’s a different kind of relationship than we had when I was a child during the divorce. He has … changed since back then. Mellowed. He’s made a lot of effort to … get to know the pony I am now, not just the pony he thinks I should be like … well, like my mother.” Willow paused, taking tiny shallow breaths like a swimmer who doesn’t know whether the next dive will be their last. “He treats me as an equal and that’s not something I’m used to. So yes, potentially, I am thinking about moving here from Silverdale. There are a lot more opportunities for my career in the big city, so it would make financial sense too. My old university professor has already started calling in some favours to help me if I choose to make the move. I haven’t told my father yet. I don’t want to rush anything. But, as you said, I’m ready to think about the possibility existing, which is a step above where I was before.” “So … if you haven’t even told your dad yet, why are you telling me?” “Vinyl, I’m in a period of transition right now with all these changes and potential changes. I’m not really in the market for a romantic partner as well at the moment.” She paused incrementally, then blurted, “But I could use a friend.” Vinyl swivelled her head. Willow was toying with her jewellery, passing it between her hooves in a nervous, rhythmic gesture; her snout screwed up as if she was holding her breath underwater. “I’d like that,” Vinyl replied softly. “Though I warn you, I’m pretty new to having friends and I can’t promise I’ll be good at it.” Air exploded from Willow’s mouth; a lungful of relief and coughing. Vinyl jolted backwards in surprise as Willow doubled over. She started to ask whether the other mare was okay but abruptly recognised the sound of laughter under the splutters. “B-baby s-s-steps,” Willow gasped out. “ But b-baby s-steps are p-pretty imp-portant, r-right?” She shook her head. “I’m not even sure why I’m laughing but I c-can’t suh … suh … sssstop!” Vinyl noted a turquoise pony sitting across from them in the Waiting Room edging away from their noise, even though all the hard, ugly plastic chairs were nailed down. A series of butt-squeaks rang through the air. Vinyl’s upper lip quivered. Inside her nose tingled. Giggles rolled up her throat and spurted down her nose, evolving into a snort of epic proportions and a peal of nervous laughter that flushed the last of the tension from her body. She flopped back in her seat, laughing until her stomach hurt. “Are you two girls okay?” Pearl appeared behind them. “Y-y-y-y-y …” Vinyl tried to speak. “Bay … bay … bay …” Willow had little luck either. Pearl frowned at them and folded her forelegs. “And what in the hoo-haa is so gosh darn funny?” Vinyl caught Willow’s eye. Willow chuckled behind one delicate hoof. “Baby steps!” they chorused in unison, before dissolving into fresh giggles. Pearl stared between the two and shook her head. “Young ponies. Sometimes I just do not understand ‘em.” The elevator dinged. When it opened, however, there was not enough room for everypony to get on. Vinyl watched as a unicorn in a wheelchair, the nurse pushing him and a custodian with a large trash cart went ahead of her. “I’ll catch the next one.” Her eyes ticked left. “Or take the stairs. I could probably use the exercise. I’m getting a belly.” “One more word like that, child, an’ I’ll wash your mouth out with soap,” Pearl threatened. “You are beautiful an’ any word from you implyin’ you are not will put me in a truly bad mood.” “Heh, duly noted.” Not so long ago, Vinyl might have argued the point. She turned to Pearl as the doors closed for the other ponies to begin their ascent. “You don’t have to come back upstairs, you know. I can head up on my own.” “One, I am only halfway done with your hair, an’ two, I will depart when I am good an’ ready an’ have my bag of manedressin’ tools with me.” “Oh. Okay. I guess that makes sense.” Vinyl absently patted her mane. “I kind of assumed you finished while I was asleep to be honest.” “Magic hooves, Vinyl, not miracle hooves. An’ my magic hooves require time, effort an’ patience for their magic to work. That lil’ filly burstin’ in fair threw me off my groove.” “Did I say thank you for doing this? Because seriously, thank you for doing this. The manecut but also … everything else. Listening to me and … junk.” Vinyl rubbed the back of her neck. “Thank you. Sapphire is lucky to have you for a mom.” “Now hush your mouth or I’ll hush it for you.” Nonetheless, Pearl reddened. “So, stairs? Or would you prefer to wait for the next elevator?” “If you think I am cartin’ my fine derrière up all them stairs you are crazier than a soup sandwich. I ain’t in the business of gettin’ sweaty from undue physical exertion.” “So is that a no?” Pearl levelled a stern look at her. “That’s a no, child, an’ don’t push your luck. You’re adorable but adorable only runs so far.” Vinyl flashed her teeth in a sugary smile. As she did so, however, something silvery caught her eye. She stepped past Pearl towards the double doors marked ‘stairs’. “Vinyl, did you not hear me? I said no stairs –” “No, no, I heard you, I just saw … something.” She levitated the object up out of the corner it had been kicked into. It jingled as it moved. “This. Do these look like the bells Jing-a-Ling was wearing?” Pearl inspected the little round trio of metal spheres attached to a silky red tail ribbon. The ends trailed from Vinyl’s telekinesis. Pearl nodded. “They must have fallen out when you were bringin’ her back to her momma.” “You wait for the elevator; I’ll give these to her mom before they leave. If I run, I can catch them.” “I’ll hold the doors for you.” “Nah, just head on up. I’ll take the stairs.” Pearl rolled her eyes but there was no malice to it. Vinyl was still smiling as she trotted down the corridor and back through the door to the waiting room and reception desk. Her whole body felt lighter than it had all day. She looked around for Jing-a-Ling and her family, hoping her mother was still filling out paperwork. They would not be hard to spot, since the place was practically deserted. The receptionist was not at her desk. Neither was the paperwork Lavender had been filling out. Vinyl trotted forward anyway, hoping Jing-a-Ling and her family were at least still in the building. If not, she could maybe wait for the receptionist to return and leave the bells with her for the next time they – A tap on her shoulder made her turn. A face suddenly pressed into her personal space made her back away. She was aware of flashing amber eyes, a bright turquoise face and a trilby hat before her vision was filled with the familiar fuzz of a microphone. She recognised a portable tape recorder and backed up even further. “Hi there! Bold Type of the Equestrian Enquirer,” said a high, fluty voice that might have been male, might have been female. “DJ Pon3, is it true you’ve given up the glitz and glam of celebrity life to watch over your secret lover, Octavia Philharmonica, during her abject time of need?” A reporter. Vinyl cursed her lapse in judgement. Of course there were still reporters around. She should never have come down here alone. “Excuse me.” She tried to sidestep the other pony. Unfortunately, Bold Type was apparently the kind of experienced tabloid reporter who expected ponies to evade them and sidestepped in tandem with her. “No need to answer that, we all know it’s true after that riveting performance you gave at your press conference.” Bold Type’s teeth glittered in a wide smile that did not reach their eyes. “Truly a masterclass in acting. You really had ponies fooled.” “I … what? I mean, no comment. Please send all requests for interviews to my agent. Excuse m-” “Can you, therefore, explain why you have been spending time romancing another pony while Octavia Philharmonica lays helpless in her hospital bed? Can you give any insight into why you would betray your apparent promise to give up everything for your long-time secret lover so easily and quickly? Are you really so unfaithful, DJ Pon3? Witness reports tell us that there have been at least three separate occasions wherein you have been witnessed shamelessly flirting with another mare! Care to comment on that? Are you cheating on Octavia Philharmonica while she is in a coma? And if so, why? Was the temptation of some hot mare on mare action too much to resist while your actual lover is incapacitated? Are you proving the stereotype of lesbian ponies being shamelessly promiscuous now your secret is out and so are you?” Vinyl batted at the microphone. Her mind reeled. What was this pony talking about? The questions flew thick and fast and no amount of ‘no comment’ or ‘excuse me’ slowed them down. “You were witnessed emerging from a heretofore trapped elevator with another mare, sweaty and breathless, and departed the scene at a gallop! Were you running away from evidence of your disloyalty? Did something happen in the heat of the moment while you were stuck in the elevator with her? And if not, why then were you later placed at the hospital café flirting with the mare less than twenty-four hours later? And I myself have just witnessed you with my own eyes making bedroom eyes at that very same mare not twenty minutes ago! The damning evidence keeps piling up, doesn’t it? Care to comment?” “N … no … c …” Vinyl’s ribcage hurt. Each breath seemed too shallow to actually give her the oxygen she needed to think. She tried to sidestep again but stumbled over her own hooves. Jing-a-Ling’s bells clinked in her telekinesis as she reflexively held them away from the reporter, their noise fading into the thrum of Vinyl’s own pulse in her ears. “Ooooh, so is it denial? Are you denying these accusations?” “N-no co–” “No? So you don’t deny them? Are you admitting that you’ve been cheating on Octavia Philharmonica under her very nose while she can do nothing to stop you? Or is this entire lesbian-with-a-secret-lover story just some cockamamie fiction you and your agent cooked up to increase your media presence to boost your album and tour ticket sales? Was it all an elaborately constructed hoax? Have you been pulling the wool over your fans’ eyes, DJ Pon3? Have you been stoking false controversy to grab some headlines and increase your notoriety? Was this all a publicity stunt? Was the thought of younger artists replacing you on the music scene just too much go bear so you decided to create a scandal to raise your profile and keep your fame? Were you so angry that your label sent a younger, hipper, more popular artist to collect your prize at the Musicality Awards that you decided to outshine your rivals with headlines instead of sales figures? Is this all really and truly just an act of selfish media exploitation for your own gain? Is it? Is it?” Vinyl wheezed. Her entire scalp seemed cold, numbness spreading to her face and mouth so that it flapped open and shut uselessly. She tried to speak but her voice was just as frozen. Fear pooled in her belly. She realised she had resumed backing up when her rump hit the wall and the microphone bumped her in the nose. She felt pinned in place like a butterfly on a corkboard. “The public have a right to know if you been lying to them about –” “Hey!” Tiny hooves rattled against the floor and suddenly the microphone disappeared as the reporter slewed sideways. Dully, Vinyl looked down at a spindly filly standing between her and the now staggering turquoise pony. “Leave her alone you big bully!” Jing-a-Ling was incandescent with rage. She lowered her head as if to butt Bold Type again and was saved only by the arrival of her sister. “Like, back off!” Melody interposed herself between Vinyl and the reporter, laying a forehoof on Jing-a-Ling’s shoulder to hold her in place. “Yeah!” Jing-a-Ling echoed. “Back off!” “Is there a problem here?” The girls’ mother, carrying her last daughter on her back, trotted through the doorway to the street outside the hospital and stared at the scene that greeted her. Her gaze took in the tape recorder, Vinyl’s terrified expression and the bells she was still somehow levitating. “I … I was c-coming to r-return …” Vinyl stuttered. “This scumbag was bullying Miss Scratch!” Melody responded, not taking her eyes off the reporter. “He had her, like, totally pinned against the friggin’ wall!” “He’s a bully!” Jing-a-Ling added. “Bullying’s bad! You’re a bad pony, mister!” “Jing-a-Ling, Melody, I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation for all this. Where did Kind Wishes go? I’m sure she can –” “No, no, they’re right, I was interviewing DJ Pon3.” Bold Type, now revealed to be a unicorn stallion with a lanky pink mane, adjusted his hat and beamed at the assembled ponies like everything was fine. “Interviewing her?” Melody could not keep the disgust from her tone. “You were doing something, buddy, but it wasn’t interviewing. It was … it was …” “Haranguing,” said an accented voice. Vinyl’s heart sank. Bold Type’s eyes widened in delight. “Miss Willow Thorntree! So nice to see you again.” “Have we met?” Willow’s tone and expression were flat as freshly pressed paper. She walked slowly but deliberately up to the group from the door behind the desk, coming to a halt at Melody’s side. “I was sitting across from you in the waiting room just now. I didn’t like to interrupt your conversation.” Bold Type smiled that toothy grin again and jabbed the tape recorder at her. “Any comment on your actions of cheating harlotry in trying to steal DJ Pon3 away from Octavia Philharmonica while the poor mare is bedbound and unable to fight for her mare?” Willow blinked. Her firm stance wavered. One hoof hung in the air, as if she had been literally stopped in her tracks. “Wh-what?” “She’s … she’s not …” Vinyl murmured. Her brain felt fragmented and disconnected, as if she was viewing events from slightly outside her own body. “She’s not doing any of that!” Melody exploded. “Sweet Celestia, some reporter. You can’t even, like, get your facts straight!” “Well I overheard her say, and I quote!” Bold Type seemed to materialise a notebook from nowhere but had probably just fished it from his saddlebag. “Ahem: ‘I’m in a period of transition right now with all these changes and potential changes. I’m not really in the market for a romantic partner as well at the moment.’ End quote.” He smirked. “That ‘at the moment’ seems pretty portentous to me – as it will to our readers. It’s obvious that once ‘the moment’ has passed, they’ll be jumping each other’s bones like crazy.” “That’s absurd!” Willow exclaimed. “Sir, it might have escaped your notice but there are children present.” Lavender stepped in front of her daughters and kept stepping forward until she was practically nose to nose with Bold Type. The reporter did not move, nor even drop his smirk. Vinyl wasn’t sure, but she thought the older mare’s fur was fluffing up like an angry cat at his smile. Some dim part of her noted distantly that Lavender’s cutie mark was a clock. Maybe that was an omen that time was up for them all. “I think you had better leave,” said Lavender. Bold Type tilted his chin, looking down his nose at her despite behind substantially shorter. “No, I don’t think I will. It’s been practically impossible to get quotes from DJ Pon3 about her big ‘coming out and going on hiatus’ revelations, so this scoop is gold no matter what she says.” “Mister, I do believe the lady said to leave.” Pearl’s entrance was akin to an ocean wave sweeping detritus from a beach. She strutted towards the group, a force of nature in pony form. Her eyes flashed lightning and her voice boomed the thunder of a sea storm. “Now.” Yet still Bold Type did not waver. Neither did his smile. “Now who is this bodacious babe? Another one of your secret lovers, DJ Pon3? Are we exploring what it’s like to be with a cougar now? Rowr!” He twinkled a hoof in an approximation of a cat swiping its claws. Vinyl’s shoulders hurt. Her hooves tingled. She could not catch her breath no matter how much she sucked at the air. Her heart felt like it was going to beat right out of her chest. “P-please,” she stammered. “All of you, d-don’t get invol–” “Hush child.” Pearl laid a protective hoof across her back. “Don’t give him the satisfaction of hearin’ you speak. He’ll just twist your words into ugly shapes an’ use ‘em to prop up his lies.” “That’s some nice casual intimacy you have there.” Bold Type telekinetically scribbled something in his notepad. “So, when does that progress to grab-ass?” “You get your scrawny butt outta here. This is a hospital!” Pearl thundered. “You should be ashamed!” “I know, right?” Bold Type beamed. “So scandalous for her to be conducting such tawdry romantic escapades in a place of healing. Then again, what else can ponies expect from someone like her?” “Someone like … me?” Vinyl echoed sluggishly. “DJ Pon3, nee Vinyl Scratch, nee just Scratch. Single child of an addict who accidentally conceived her while exchanging sexual favours for drugs, then committed suicide while in the custody of authorities in a rehabilitation establishment that was just trying to help her get her life back on track from the train-wreck she had turned it into. Scratch had a childhood peppered with reports of violence against peers and other infringements on common decency. She indulged in prolonged secret sexual deviations with a classmate while on a fully paid scholarship to a prestigious music school.” Bold Type spoke as if counting off each crime against a memorised list. “A vulnerable classmate whose own life was beset by tragedy after tragedy: parents killed in a carriage accident with the drunken driver of a taxi cart, legal guardian died a long and painful death from cancer, thrown into the foster system and rejected by foster families – it’s no wonder she was ripe for her best friend to take advantage of her as soon as the opportunity presented itself. But what else could you expect from a pony with that kind of low-class background?” Vinyl’s jaw dropped further with every word. “N-no, that’s not … that’s not true!” “Don’t lie to me too, DJ Pon3. It won’t wash with me. I’ve been investigating your past very thoroughly since your press conference and it has taken a lot of effort to unearth the parts you’d prefer ponies didn’t know about. I have to admit, you did a damn fine job reinventing yourself into the slick celeb you’d like everyone to think of you as, but your mistake was admitting you’d been lying about your sexuality this whole time. That made me think: what else have you been lying about? Under what other pretences have you sold your music to an unassuming fanbase? The public has a right to know the truth about you.” Bold Type whapped the back of one hoof against his notepad. “The truth is so much more sordid than you’d like ponies to know but –” “Sir.” A shape loomed behind Bold Type. Usually the word ‘loom’ implies size and girth but the pony who had emerged from the door behind the reception desk and quietly approached as he was speaking was several inches shorter than him. Yet still, she loomed in the truest sense of the word. Bold Type whirled around, startled. “Yes?” “Kind Wishes!” Lavender said with not a small amount of relief. The grim-faced receptionist eyed Bold Type like he was something she had stepped in that she was eager to wipe on some grass. “Blood relation, spouse or adoptee?” she monotoned. “Huh?” She blinked, just once. Something in that simple lowering and lifting of her lids implied pain if he did not respond to her satisfaction. It was the imperious blink of a born bureaucrat. “Blood relation, spouse or adoptee?” “You’re not making any sense, lady.” “Blood relation, spouse or adoptee: are you any of those things to a patient at this hospital?” “Uh, no.” “Do you have permission from a patient or their blood relation, spouse or adoptee to be here?” “Well no but I’m a member of the press so I –” “So you’re leaving.” “I most certainly am not. I am conducting an interview –” “Family or ponies here by special dispensation only. You’re not family, you’re not here by special dispensation and you’re causing a scene in my waiting room. Ergo, you’re leaving.” “Lady, you can’t –” She reached out a hoof through the hole in the plastic screen to tap the button of a stationary mic on her desk. “Bruiser, could you come to Reception please? A pony here is causing a disturbance by pestering visitors and needs to be escorted off the premises.” A crackle of static heralded a response. “On my way.” Bruiser’s familiar voice echoed tinnily over the connection. Bold Type’s smile slipped for the first time. He scowled at the receptionist. “Abusing your authority to protect a celebrity from the press?” he accused. “No.” The receptionist’s monotone did not alter one iota yet the threatening aura rolling off her could have levelled a mountain range. “I’m doing my job. She,” she indicated Vinyl, “is family of one of our patients. She belongs here. You do not.” “You can’t just –” “Leave.” “I have rights –” “Leave.” “You’re impeding the truth from –” “Leave. Now.” The receptionist’s voice dropped to a murmur so quietly threatening it made Vinyl’s fur stand on end. “Or else.” “Or else what?” “Or else me.” Bruiser strode across the waiting room. The familiar sight of him made Vinyl’s knees feel watery with relief. “Out, buddy.” “You ponies are –” “You can leave on your own four hooves on I can carry you out but either way you’re leaving. Which is it gonna be? I’ll let you make the choice.” Bold Type glared at the faces of the ponies who surrounded him. It looked as though he was going to protest more but finally something in their collective expressions got through to him and he sighed. “All right, all right, I’m going. I’ve got enough soundbites anyhow. And actually, DJ Pon3 mobilising her cadre of lovers against me to try to stifle the truth about her from getting out with be the piece de resistance of my article.” He flicked his tail as he trotted to the exit. “You’ll be seeing my story in tomorrow’s paper. A full expose: DJ Pon3, the Truth Behind the Lies. Thanks for all your help, DJ Pon3. I might even win a Ponizer for this.” He fired off one last smirk at her before clattering out onto the street, letting the doors bang shut behind him. Bruiser rubbed his nose with the back of one hoof. “I hate reporters like that. Some of ‘em are so polite and don’t give nopony no trouble but the ones like that give the rest a bad name. Did he give you a lot of trouble, Kind Wishes?” “Not me,” the receptionist intoned. “Her.” She tilted her chin at the cluster of ponies circled tightly around Vinyl. “The craven bully was practically choking her with his revolting recording device, making all sorts of repellent comments about things he had no business shouting in public.” Bruiser stepped towards the group. “You okay, Vinyl?” “Vinyl?” Concern etched Pearl’s tone. “Lean on me if you have to, child. You look like you can barely stand – Vinyl!” Vinyl was aware of a deep, echoing throb in her ears, as if the universe itself had developed a pulse. The edges of her vision vibrated in time with it. Her chest felt too tight, like her ribcage was a steel trap closing in on her lungs. “Vinyl!” someone cried. It sounded like Willow but the word melted into echoes that bounced around Vinyl’s skull until she couldn’t think. Then she was pitching forward into merciful darkness and knew no more. “Panic attack. Poor thing hyperventilated and passed out.” Flower Heart shook her head. “From what Bruiser said, it was pure stress from the awful things that reporter was saying.” “It ain’t right.” Merry Heart thumped a balled-up hoof against the stack of paperwork she was supposed to be filing. “It just ain’t right. Diggin’ into her privacy like that an’ hangin’ it out like dirty laundry for all the world to see? It ain’t right!” “You don’t go after somepony’s momma,” Flower agreed. “It’s the lowest of the low. Nopony can help where they came from or what happened before they were born. And I’d say Vinyl’s done damn well for herself to have a rough childhood and still make something of herself the way she did! Now that sleazy reporter wants to use that to pull her down just so he can sell some papers and make a name for himself? He’s using her as a stepping stone to further his own career and doesn’t give a rat’s ass what damage he does in the process!” Merry struggled to find something more cohesive to say but her mind and mouth just kept circling back to: “It’s ain’t right.” “No argument here.” Flower glared daggers at the floor. Abruptly, she stood up. Such was the ferocity of the movement, her chair fell over behind her. “Dang it. I’m going to go talk to her.” “She doesn’t want to talk to anypony.” “I know, but I’m going to try anyway.” Flower trotted to Room 219, heedless of her overturned chair, and knocked the door. It was so rarely closed these days, Merry dreaded what her friend might find on the other side. “Go away.” Vinyl’s voice was muffled but still intelligible. “Vinyl, I’m coming in. Don’t throw anything.” “Please, Flower, just leave me alone.” Merry righted the chair. “She said the same to me earlier.” Flower’s brows furrowed. “That wasn’t a request, Vinyl. I’m coming in. Do not throw anything at me.” She eased the door open. Inside the room was dark, lit only by what light came through the window. Since it was late evening, that was precious little. Merry strained in her chair to see what Flower could through the doorway. “You ain’t eaten.” “I’m not hungry.” Vinyl’s reply was raspy, as if her throat was sore. “Hungry or not, your body needs fuel.” “Please, Flower, I … I don’t want to talk to anypony right now. Really.” Flower scowled. “You know that reporter is a piece of crap, right?” “I know.” “You don’t sound like you believe it.” “What he was saying wasn’t crap.” Merry’s jaw dropped. “It was too!” she blurted loudly before she could think better of it. “It was all a bunch of boohockey!” “The stuff about my parents wasn’t. I don’t know whose hooves he had to grease to find that stuff out but he was thorough.” “He was a good for nuthin’ leech who’s monetisin’ your life with no regard for anythin’ but his own gain!” Merry retorted. She hit the paper stack again. “Oooooh, he makes me madder than a three-legged dog tryin’ to bury a turd on an icy pond!” Flower gaped at her. “Merry!” “I’m sorry but ponies like that who don’t show no regard for others make me so gosh darn angry I could spit!” “Guys, I appreciate your concern, but really. I … I just want to be left alone right now,” Vinyl said so softly that Merry could barely hear her. “Please.” Flower bit her lower lip. “We’re here if you need us. You know that, right?” “I know. And I appreciate it. Now please just close the door.” Reluctantly, Flower complied. She trotted back behind the desk with her head hung low like a pony on their way to the gallows. “This sucks.” She sank back into her chair. “I wish there was something we could do to help her. She’s come so far since she first got here. All that progress up in smoke thanks to one lousy reporter.” Merry unballed her hoof and gazed sadly at the blue-stained side of her foreleg. Thumping the paperwork so many times had rubbed some of the ink onto her. “I wish there was something we could do too.” The clock ticked mercilessly above them. The door to Room 219 stayed closed. At the end of the corridor, the elevator dinged and a porter without a gurney stepped out. Vinyl sighed into her elbow. “So that’s it,” she finished. “I guess it was inevitable, really. I should have expected somepony to unearth stuff about my mom.” She gave a mirthless laugh. “I guess it was only a matter of time. I should probably be more surprised it didn’t happen way before this. It’s pretty salacious gossip. You’d think I’d be used to this kind of thing by now, would you? Indigo used to do weekly question and answer sessions with me to train me for how to deal with press junkets without getting myself into hot water. Looks like I forgot all my training. Again. Maybe Quill Point will come sniffing around again and write another expose on why I’m a crappy musician as well as a crappy pony from a crappy background.” When she had awoken in the lobby it was to a pounding headache that still had not let up. Hours later, her sinuses pulsed and her temples throbbed. It was like someone had put rocks in her skull and shaken her like a paint mixer. If she closed her eyes, her lids felt stretched, as if her eyeballs had swollen and no longer fit into their sockets. The cool of the wall against her back provided some relief for her raised temperature but her whole body still felt too hot, her skin too snug. Thoughts pulsated in tandem with her headache: I should have seen this coming I should have predicted this I’m so stupid stupid stupid so dumb how could I not have seen this coming I should have seen this coming I should have predicted this I’m so stupid stu– The door opened. She had been so caught up in her spiralling mantra that, for a moment, she was not sure how much time had passed. Surely Flower and Merry weren’t checking on her again so soon? She opened her mouth to send them away but stopped when the pony in the doorway did not stay in the doorway. Instead of pausing to request entry, she stepped purposefully inside, closed the door, crossed the floor and slid backwards down the wall to sit next to Vinyl. Neither of them said anything for a long time. “Saph,” Vinyl eventually managed. “Don’t.” “But –” “We’re cool, girl.” Sapphire spoke with such finality that there was no room for argument or doubt. She did not open her eyes or turn her head to look at Vinyl. There was no need. Vinyl had not realised how much she had been dreading this interaction until she was nearly crushed by the weight of her own relief. “Thank you,” she croaked. “And I am sorry. I was an ass.” “I’m sorry too. I was an ass as well. I pushed you too hard too soon.” Sapphire absently tucked a blue ringlet behind her ear. “So I hear you done been talking to my momma.” “Yeah.” “I think she’s decided to adopt you.” “Wh-what?” “She didn’t say as much but the way she talked about you … I could tell. She likes you. She wants to mollycoddle the ever-loving daylights outta you. If you’re not careful, she’ll be inviting you over for family dinner and putting up a stocking for you over our fireplace at Hearthswarming. You’ll have to fight my brothers for a slice of pecan pie at Hearthswarming dinner though. It’s scrum-diddly-umptious but there’s never enough to go around. I think she likes watching us play rock-paper-scissors over the last slice.” “I …” Vinyl was not sure what to say to that. “Uh…” “If I were you, I’d just go with it. She likes to feel useful and needed. When she got home today, she was madder than a wet cat. Made her famous Red Hot Chilli. Talked to herself the whole time but wouldn’t let anypony past the door to help until she’d simmered down some. She only ever cranks the dial up to eleven in the kitchen like that when she’s mad. I’ve got some for you, by the way.” Sapphire nodded at her satchel and the Tupperware box poked out of it. “Is that why you’re here: to feed me on your mom’s orders?” “I’m here because …” Sapphire hesitated. “I’m here because you’re my best friend, Vinyl. And you’re going through a tough time. Best friends are supposed to look after each other when times are tough.” Vinyl’s chin sank onto her hindlegs, pulled tight against her in foetal position. She rocked a little on her haunches. “Thank you, Saph. For sticking with me. All I seem to have these days are tough times. But you … you still came back.” “It’s what friends do, girl.” Something dripped off Vinyl’s nose. “Aw, Celestia’s butt!” Sapphire leaned forward to rummage in her satchel. She extracted a tiny packet of plastic-wrapped paper hankies and thrust them at to Vinyl, who wiped at her face with embarrassment. “I’ll be fine in a second. Just … gimme a sec … damn dust in here is all.” “Vinyl.” “I probably have, like, undiagnosed allergies or something –” “Vinyl.” Sapphire stilled her frantic movements by placing her hoof over Vinyl’s own. Vinyl looked at her. “What?” Sapphire’s expression bespoke a great many things: regret, sympathy, affection, exasperation, resolve, all writ large across her features like they had been drawn on a sandy beach with a stick only for the tide to come in and mix them all up so they blended together into one. “Whatever happens, you won’t face it alone, okay? You have ponies who care about you. We want to support you, even when times are tough.” She squeezed Vinyl’s hoof. “You’re not alone in all this. You have friends.” Despite the softness of her words, she put so much emphasis on this final word that she might as well have belted it out on stage to a full stadium. Vinyl gave her the tiniest smile. “Thank you,” she whispered. Sapphire retuned the smile, released her hoof and leaned back against the wall. “Now eat your chilli, girl. If I’m getting my designer butt all dirty sitting on this floor with you, the least you can do is let me go home to my momma with a fulfilled promise to get you to eat, you skinny filly.” Despite the prospect of the morning expose still looming over her, Vinyl chuckled. And she realised with surprise that her headache had eased.