//------------------------------// // 2 - Reused // Story: Secondhand Laughter // by thedarkprep //------------------------------// Chapter Two Reused Turn around and say something. The bed creaked as Pinkie moved closer and Trixie felt a soft kiss being placed on the back of her head. Gentle and caring, like the girl providing it.  Turn around and say something! Trixie felt the mattress shift again as Pinkie removed herself from it, heard her footsteps as she walked across the room further away from her. Don’t let Pinkie leave, she thought, biting her lip. Do something. Say something! But she didn’t. All Trixie did was continue to stare straight ahead at the wall, her vision impaired by the dim light and the tears in her eyes, and to listen. She could hear the storm outside the walls, a muffled downpour and the occasional thunderclap. She could hear the neighbors, an occasional noise sifting through the apartment wall. What Trixie could no longer hear, however, was Pinkie. She held her breath, tried to slow her pulse, strained her hearing. Nothing. And then, there it was—the sound of a door closing in the distance. She’s gone? Trixie wasn’t surprised. Not really. Not after how she had just treated her, after what she had just said. Pinkie had done so much for her, had given her so much support and affection. How much had she sacrificed in time and emotional energy alone? And to do so out of pure kindness? They weren't dating, after all. They weren’t family. Only to have Trixie throw it in her face like that? Honestly, this serves me right. An image flashed through Trixie’s mind of Pinkie sitting next to her outside the school, a gentle smile on her face as lights shined on through the night sky in the background. Even back then, Pinkie had done her best to ground her against herself, a losing battle but one Pinkie had always been willing to fight. She’s too good for me. Her fingers tightened around her shirt collar. Another flash, a bright spring afternoon, and Pinkie’s beaming smile and piercing eyes were there, breathing purpose into her once again, even if momentarily, pushing her to feel like she hadn’t felt in years, the taste of frosting on her tongue... She always has been. She began to sniffle and she could swear she smelled Pinkie’s vanilla scented conditioner in the air. One more flash and Pinkie was picking her up from work, a concerned frown as Trixie, too distraught to drive herself home, wept in the passenger seat. Pinkie pulled over and held her in silence, awkward as the angle was, always the understanding one, her soft hair soothing against Trixie’s nose even as the rough seatbelt dug into her neck. I don’t deserve her. Pinkie had been the best thing that had ever happened to Trixie. She was one of the few things in her life worth sticking around for. Closing her eyes, Trixie thought back to the last few years. Grey landscapes folded out before her, shadowy stages and a muted record shop. A few splashes of red marred the picture—angry shouts, closed doors, an absent father. Nothing worth remembering.  Looking ahead proved no better, muddled images of uncertain futures. Indistinct images with ill-defined locations in which Trixie could not picture herself. Possible jobs and careers that held no luster or shine, and neither called nor beckoned to Trixie in any way that mattered. No, the future held no more color than the past did. The present though... The present was washed in the most vibrant pink, a hue that imbued all it touched with life and energy and the belief that maybe things would end up brighter in turn, an infectious optimism that made even Trixie hope for better. Or at least, it had been. But that was gone now. So maybe I should leave as well. It’s not like she had something to look forward to. The tour, the magic shop, the music store, the party service, they were the desperate thrashes of someone trying to carve out a space for herself where she felt one didn’t exist. They were attempts at survival, at building a life. But to live was to struggle, however. And Trixie was tired of struggling. She had been for a very long time. She thought of the medicine in the kitchen. Thought of her now empty apartment. Thought about her dad, her mom, each out there somewhere in the world. She wondered if they wondered about her? About each other? About what they left behind?  Had their fingers shaken as they weighed their options? Had their breath come out in ragged gasps? Had they doubted? And if they did, did it matter? They weren’t here. And maybe she wouldn't be either. Seems that leaving is all a Lulamoon is good for, Trixie thought bitterly. At least no one will be waiting for me to come back. But even as she made the decision, the thought idly struck her that, if she did leave, it would probably be blamed on her transition more than anything. That annoyed her. And there was always the chance she’d… mess up. That would carry its own set of complications when she woke up. If she woke up. Not to mention that if Pinkie did come back, she would be the one to find her, the only one to know what happened to her. If her dad ever returned, Pinkie would have to tell him. But how would he even know to ask her? And then there was her promise to Pinkie on top of that. With each new thought, Trixie felt something inside of her get carved out and an exhaustion fill the remaining void. Complications, doubt, insecurity, each contemplation doused the fire from her flame. Her eyes ached, but she was no longer crying. She felt hollow. She felt empty. She felt tired. So very tired. Her eyes began to close against her will, and her last thoughts as she began to drift away were of pink skies and vanilla flowers. A thundercrack roared through the sky, its growl echoing for miles and shaking walls with its resounding fury. Trixie jolted awake. Disorientation. Panic. Raised heartbeat. Shallow breaths. The distant yelling in memories mixing with the booming thunder of the storm outside. Dammit, don’t do this! She closed her eyes and took deep breaths, centering her thoughts.  You’re at home, she thought, slowing her pulse. You should be over this. With practiced concentration, she focused on a few selected memories, stemming the tumultuous images from her dreams and replacing them with calmer alternatives. Raging rapids turned to mollifying streams. She sighed. Just perfect... With the crisis averted, her mind began to take in her surroundings. She could feel her shirt, heavy with sweat and clinging uncomfortably to her body. The bedsheets, stifling and tangled around her. She must have moved a lot throughout the night. The night. Memories from earlier that night came back to Trixie then, memories of what she said, of what she did, of what she lost. A low groan escaped her lips and for a moment she wished to have the nightmares back, if only to escape her current memories. Yet she knew there was no escaping this. She opened her eyes and stared blankly at the ceiling. The room was dark, a dim light still coming in from the nearby hallway, or so she presumed.  No telling what time it even is, she thought. I should get ready for work. Or call out. Or at least shower. She imagined the scent of vanilla, causing her to close her eyes again. I should call Pinkie and apologize. The memory of her last interaction with Pinkie rang loudly in her ears. I should leave her alone. The more time passed, the more Trixie found herself bothered and uncomfortable, hearing sounds, and smelling scents, and feeling sensations that were not actually there as she struggled to deal with her loneliness—feeling crowded in the empty room. At the very least I should find my phone, she decided, making an effort to sit up, her eyes snapping open at finding herself being unexpectedly restrained. And yet, the panic was only there for a moment. In the dim light, she could make out Pinkie cuddling up against her side, holding on tightly around her middle, sleeping soundly.  Trixie stifled a gasp of surprise. All at once more sensations began filling in. The weight of her arm around her. The extra warmth at her side. The soft breathing coming from the girl. The scent of vanilla. Things that Trixie thought she’d been imagining came to the forefront as she stared at the impossibly peaceful sight beside her.  Her throat went dry. “She– She came back?” “Yeah. She did.” Trixie turned her head towards the unexpected voice, looking for the intruder. There, in the corner of the room and sitting on a chair dragged in from the living room, was Sunset Shimmer. Trixie didn’t say anything at first and just watched. Sunset watched as well. It was clear she had been watching for a while. In a way, Sunset was always watching. Trixie knew as much. She remembered the days at school, where Sunset would walk down the hall, observing, listening, learning. And now that familiar stare was trained on her.  What have you been learning? Sunset raised an eyebrow and Trixie struggled not to shrink back in response. She immediately felt ashamed. She’d never been afraid of Sunset before. Even at Sunset’s worst, Trixie had been one of the few who could stand her ground and not look away. And Sunset was definitely not at her worst anymore, even if Trixie was. The way Sunset’s eyes fell to the floor made it clear that the response did not go unnoticed. Still, neither girl commented on it. There was no point after all. They both knew the other one knew. The silence continued to drag on, and it became clear that Sunset was going to force Trixie to make the first move.  Figures, she mused, taking one last calming breath. “Okay, Sunset,” she began. “Most obvious question first then. Not that you’re unwelcome, at all, but, why are you inside my home?” “Why do you think I—” “No,” Trixie interrupted. “We’re not doing the answer with a question bit. I get enough of that with therapy and you don’t know how annoying that can get.” Trixie watched as Sunset smiled wistfully, an unexpected reaction, and chuckled as she said “I do, actually. And that’s fair. I’m here cause Pinkie asked me to be here.” “Ah… So that’s where she went?” “To AJ’s, yeah,” Sunset nodded. “Wrote to me from the journal and filled me in on some details. Asked me to come over here. Then she drove to pick me up from the portal. We got here about, what? Twenty minutes ago?” “So how much did she tell you?” Trixie asked, trying to keep the accusation from her voice. Sunset didn’t immediately respond, and for a while all Trixie could focus on was the sound of the rain outside and Pinkie’s gentle breathing. “Don’t be mad at her.” “How much?” “Enough that I dropped everything to come here,” Sunset relented. “I know about how you’ve been feeling. I know about the Friendship Games and what that did to you. I know about the meds in the kitchen, I know about your conversation with Pinkie, and…” and here she hesitated “...and I know about your birthday. I know what happened. I’m glad you told somebody.” She’d already guessed as much, but Trixie still felt a cold fury begin to brew inside of her. It tasted of betrayal and Trixie did her best to smother those feelings. She nodded numbly.  “Is that all?” “Most of it, yeah,” Sunset said, avoiding her gaze. “She told me some stuff about your parents, some other small work stuff here and there, but that’s the highlights. Or whatever you want to call it. The important parts, I guess.” “Right. So then—what? She asked you to come here so you could… what? Talk to me? Set me straight? Give me a pep talk? I’m sorry, but I’m having a really hard time figuring out what she thought you could do for me that she couldn’t.” “Yeah, I can see that,” Sunset replied, some annoyance slipping into her tone. “First of all, Pinkie didn’t just ask…” she turned to look at the sleeping girl, her eyes distant “...she begged, Trixie. Tears in her eyes. Sobbing. The whole deal. So don’t make light of it. And she begged me to take you to Equestria, where I’m from. She thinks you’d be happier there, in a world with magic. She thinks it would save you.” Trixie turned to look at the girl at her side as well, processing the information. Pinkie? You did that for me? She knew how much Pinkie relied on her for company. She knew how much Pinkie needed her. It was one thing if Pinkie left of her own accord, but to do this for her… She then turned to look at Sunset. There was a reaction there, as soon as she faced her. Sunset had seen something in Trixie and had reacted. Trixie was unable to read the reaction though, too deep in her own thoughts. Equestria. Pinkie had told her so much about it. Story upon story of the things she’d heard and the things she’d seen and experienced on her trips to the magical land. And now she’d get to live there? I get to live there? And all she had to do was leave everything behind. Leave Pinkie behind. Wasn’t she going to leave everything behind anyway? No. That was Pinkie leaving me. She needs me just as much as I need her. I promised her I wouldn’t leave. But then again, she’d reached out to Sunset, hadn’t she? Maybe this was the play. A way to get rid of her without any of the guilt? And wouldn’t this be better for everyone? Pinkie deserved better than her. She had better than her already. This way, Trixie would be someone else’s problem. And besides, what else is a Lulamoon good for than leaving anyway? She almost said as much but, right before, she noticed Sunset twitch. Another reaction. Something is up. “So… You’re here to take me to your homeland?” Sunset hesitated and Trixie had her answer. She braced for the words she knew would follow. “No,” Sunset said a moment later. “I am not.” “Right,” Trixie mumbled, the sting not lessened by predicting it. “That figures. I’m guessing having two of me over there would be too much. Or that it would be an issue with Twilight to have a human living there or something?” Sunset looked at Trixie for a while before answering, but not unkindly. She was looking for something, Trixie could tell. And whatever it was, Trixie hoped she’d find it. She was too tired to resist. Sunset shook her head. “It’s not that actually,” she said softly. “I mean, those are probably issues we’d need to deal with, sure. But I think we’d figure something out. Honestly though, I really would take you with me if I actually thought it would help you. But I don’t. I really don’t. I know a thing or two about running away from your problems into a magical world and… well, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.” Sunset was being kind. Trixie knew that. She was trying to help. But she still couldn’t help but bristle at the comparison. “Yeah, sure, Mrs. Two Wives. Real cautionary tale you’ve got there!” Trixie regretted her outburst as soon as it happened, and it wasn’t the way Sunset flinched but rather the contrast between her yell and silence in the room. Her eyes darted to Pinkie and she held her breath, watching for any signs of her rousing from her sleep. One second passed. Then another. Then another. But Pinkie continued to sleep peacefully. Trixie took a deep breath of relief. “It’ll take way more than that to wake her,” Sunset said, causing Trixie to face her again. “You should know that by now.” She did. “Just making sure,” Trixie muttered, gathering herself. “And I’m sorry for yelling. I know you mean well.” “Don’t worry about it,” Sunset waved her off. “I know how it looks and how it must have sounded. Things really do seem to have worked out for me recently, and I do get how they look from the outside. The thing though, is that they didn’t get this way because I ran away to a magical land filled with ponies and arcane knowledge. Things got this way because of a lot of hard work I put in to better myself and because I got lucky—right place at the right time kind of stuff.” “Yeah, I’ve heard,” Trixie said. “Pinkie told me about the thing with Twilight’s parents. And that ponies over there were giving you a hard time over the whole poly relationship thing. Not to mention your parents. I didn’t mean to make things seem like they’d been easy for you.” To Trixie’s surprise, Sunset started laughing. “Oh man,” she said between giggles. “I wish, that’s what I was talking about. No, I mean, all that did and does suck, sure. But I’m talking about me. Me specifically, and what I had to better about myself. Like… did you know I’m an alcoholic?” Trixie stared for a second, unsure of how to answer. “I know you used to drink a lot?” “Alcoholic,” Sunset repeated, somberly. “I don’t really drink anymore. But let me tell you, that was hard. I felt like I knew what rock bottom was like when they found me kicked out of a bar after I promised to do better. But imagine relapsing and letting down not one, but two girlfriends. And then imagine doing it twice. And then imagine relapsing a third time when they’re your wives. And each time you have to promise you’ll do better and you get to see the look of disappointment in their eyes and you know how hurt they are because you’ve said that before. Let me tell you, that feeling doesn’t really care if you are a horse or a human at the time.” Trixie nodded along, unsure exactly of what feeling she was sympathizing with. “Or how about this?” Sunset continued, her pace increasing. “It’s a day like any other but, for some reason, you just can’t get your ex-girlfriend out of your head. All day you are just drowning in the memories of everything you did wrong, like you got hit by the elements all over again, and you’re down for the day, and the only one there to help you through it is your wife who not only shares her name but is her interdimensional counterpart. That feeling right there? That didn’t care that I was a magical prodigy.” Sunset was practically panting as Trixie shifted her attention from her clenched hands to Pinkie’s sleeping form, a question forming on her lips. “Wasn’t there, I don’t know… Magic that could’ve helped calm you down?” “Doesn’t work like that,” Sunset replied, shaking her head. “Not everything has a magical solution. A spell like that exists but using it on me in the state that I was in could have been dangerous. Actually, magic did make things worse that time because, when I really started breaking down, Shy tried to hug me and I panicked and teleported. I didn’t even know where I was and I just… was there, too out of it to teleport back. Shy didn’t know where I went and Twilight was busy and couldn’t come home to track my teleport. It was… a trying day for everyone.” “...sounds like it,” Trixie admitted, processing more and more of what she heard. Is that what I would be like? My magic, an inconvenience to others due to my unstable emotional state? No wonder she doesn’t want to take me. I could even be dangerous. But that means... “Then there is no hope.” “I wouldn’t say that,” Sunset said with a small smile. “I’m Mrs. Two Wives, remember? I’m a mother now too. And I’m definitely much happier than I used to be. There are still bad days but I’ve gotten much better at dealing with them. As I said, I’ve become a much better pony. Person. Whatever.” Trixie watched as Sunset smiled fondly at something only she could see, before returning her attention to her. “But I didn’t get there through magic. I didn’t get better from running to Equestria. I got better by running to ponies, people, who cared about me.” “So that’s it? Love and friendship and all that?” Sunset shook her head. “You still have to do the work,” Sunset reminded her. “And it’s so hard, Trixie. I don’t have to tell you that. But if you have those people that care about you, even if it’s just one person, they make it worth it. I can’t even tell you the number of times I slipped back. The number of times I fell and relapsed and messed up. But every single time, they caught me. There’s power in that. A power that magic just can’t match.” Sunset gestured to Pinkie, who was still clinging tightly to Trixie’s side. She gave an awkward smile. “If you came to Equestria with me, you'd be alone there, with no one,” she said quietly. “I can’t let you do that to yourself. Not when you have someone here who cares about you as much Pinkie obviously does.” Trixie looked at Pinkie, really studied her and the way she was sleeping. Her breathing was still soft, but was sometimes broken by a random gasp or groan. Her face was not relaxed and, if she really looked, she could see tear stains covering her cheeks. But most telling were her arms, still gripping her as if she’d fade away the second they let go. And what evidence had Trixie given her otherwise? Trixie ran one hand through Pinkie’s hair, gently rubbing against her scalp and earning a satisfied sigh from Pinkie in response. Pinkie’s grip slackened and Trixie took that as a good sign. “She really loves you, you know?” Sunset commented from her perch. “I don’t know how long you’ve been dating but—” “We’re not dating,” Trixie interrupted, though not sharply. “We’re not... But… Yeah, I know.” Sunset nodded in understanding as Trixie continued to play with Pinkie’s hair, the soft breathing of the three being the only sound to fill the silence.