//------------------------------// // #11 // Story: Bits and pieces // by Cackling Moron //------------------------------// There wasn’t anywhere Paul wanted or needed to go once they left the hospital, he’d just wanted to be somewhere else other than that bed in that room. It didn’t take him long to avail himself of the blanket Cozy had brought, something which stoked no small amount of smugness in her as they’d walked along. Cozy had recommended the castle as a destination, specifically the Crystal Heart, figuring that since they were in with royalty then getting in and having a look wouldn’t be too difficult, regardless of whatever time they got there. Paul had no idea what a crystal heart was but couldn’t think of anywhere else to go so hadn’t argued.  Thus. Back to the castle. Despite the fanciness of his spare leg, Paul wasn’t having the easiest time of it. He was so used to compensating for the various shortcomings and the general wear-and-tear of the other leg that the absence of any problems became in itself a problem, at least until he got a better feel for the thing.  More than once he’d put lampposts and walls to good use when trying to compensate for a limp that wasn’t really there anymore. Got there in before too long though, and they were indeed let in without too much fuss, to Paul’s annoyance. He wasn’t sure what outcome wouldn’t have annoyed him, but the insinuation of preferential treatment rubbed him up the wrong way. The lavish opulence (by his standards) of the castle didn’t help either. “What is this thing anyway? Crystal whatever? Heart?” Paul asked as they made their way through the corridors. Cozy seemed to know the way. “It’s a heart,” she said. “Uhuh.” “Made of crystal.” Paul glared at the back of Cozy’s head, but Cozy didn’t care. “What will you horses think of next…” He muttered. As they neared the heart they learned that they weren’t actually that special as there were knots and handfuls of other ponies milling about, some plainly tourists, just taking in the castle and the heart and all that. Paul spotted at least one pony (there with their family, so it appeared) in a loud shirt thoroughly unsuited to the climate, using some sort of flashing device held to the eye to do… …something. Paul didn’t know what it was. But he didn’t appreciate it when the pony turned the flashing thing on him. “Eurgh, hell was that?” He asked, dazzled, hand raised too late. “Camera,” Cozy said. “You say that like it means something to me,” Paul said, blinking furiously to clear the blotch spoiling his vision. He was so fixated on doing this - not to mention still half-dazzled - that he failed to notice the approach of Celestia and Luna until they were basically standing right in front of him. By then he did notice. “Naturally. You again. And you,” he said, looking from Celestia to Luna. “We really must stop bumping into each other like this, Paul,” Celestia said. “Hmph. Give me the strength to make it home so I can lock my door and never have to see any of you ever again.” “What was that?” She asked, ear pricked. “Nothing, nothing. So you are here, hmm? Here? What a co-in-ci-dence,” said Paul, who did not believe in coincidences, or at least not when they involved irritating things happening to him. “Well, it is a lovely spot,” Celestia said, smiling up at the heart. The heart existed, doing whatever it was it did, heartily. Paul didn’t look at it. “Hmph.” “You’re looking well, Paul, all things considered,” Luna interjected. “Hmph.” “It is remarkable that a man of your years is able to recover so quickly,” She then added. Paul couldn’t tell if this was a compliment or a veiled jab or some combination of the two. “...yes,” he said, unsure of where to go with that. The conversation here faltered, as Paul wasn’t the only one unsure of where to go. In the awkward pause that followed Celestia looked down to her side, blinked, then looked around to her other side and behind her. “Where is Twilight?” She asked. “She is back there, correcting a tour guide,” Luna said, indicating with a flick of her head. She was not wrong, either. Twilight had apparently come out with the other princesses for their coincidental walk but had clearly got distracted by the pressing need to hold forth at length about something towards an increasingly beleaguered looking tour guide while the tour guide’s group looked on with mounting worry. “Oh dear. Do you think we should go and help them?” Celestia asked with concern. The tour guide did look as if they weren’t having an especially good time. Looked like they were having a significant emotional event, in fact. Paul - who had been chewing something over in his head - decided this was as good an opportunity to get something off his chest as any, given it was these two he needed to get it off at, so why not. Had to get Cozy out of the way first, and this presented an excellent opportunity. Leaning a little (only slightly unsteadily) he gave her a poke. “Go and talk to Twilight for a second, I’m going to talk to these two,” he said, pointing. Cozy was about to object to being asked to run along so the adults could talk when she double-took. She’d almost missed a key detail in what he’d just said to her. “You know her name?!” “I know all their names. Celestia, Luna, whatever. Sweetie Belle, Applebloom, Scootaloo, all of them, all the horse names.” Cozy’s face went through a journey that took in a whole range of emotions, none of which seemed fitting for the moment. Eventually, she settled on some combination of amazement and outrage. “...since when?!” “Shh. Go. I need to talk to them.” Cozy gaped, open-mouthed, for a second, but then the shock passed and she picked her jaw up. “I’m only going because I’m too stunned to do anything else,” she said. “Great, good. I won’t be a minute,” Paul said, shooing her away. Off Cozy went, to Luna and Celestia’s obvious bemusement, the two of them turning to watch her go before turning back to Paul again. Clearly he was ramping up, but for what they did not know. “Is something the matter, Paul?” Celestia asked. “I read letter you sent,” he said, without preamble. “Oh good! I was starting to think they were getting lost in transit.” “I threw them away.” “I know,” Celestia said, smiling. She’d just been playing polite. Paul didn’t really care. “Hmph. I read - well, Cozy read, read to me. Tells me what you offering,” he said. “And?” Celestia asked, the merest tinge of hope entering her tone. “I say no, of course.” The hope wafted away. “Oh.” “That before though. Before all this. I - maybe I change my mind.” The hope returned. “Oh!” Paul shrugged and made various non-committal gestures with his hands. “Cozy think it good for me. Good to get out of house, talk, whatever. Maybe. I don’t know. Bad teacher and do not want to teach, but if Cozy thinks is good maybe it is good. The, ah, the small one want to help too, yes?” He asked, inclining his head in Twilight’s direction. No reason to let them know he knew all their names, after all. (Meanwhile, Cozy had reached Twilight and had interceded on the tour guide’s behalf. What was being said was impossible to determine at the distance, however.) “Twilight was interested, yes,” said Celestia, head dipping. “Hmph. Acceptable. Small one is not so bad.” “Ah, I can only hope that one day you consider me not so bad, Paul, that’s high praise from you,” Celestia said, with Luna bewilderingly nodding in agreement alongside her, something that caught Paul entirely off-guard, wrong-footing him for a good two seconds. Did they actually care, or was this another veiled something-or-other? He wasn’t sure. Bounced back though, and got back into it: “Yes yes har har I am grumpy and not very nice, look…” His clunkiness with the language was making what was already difficult for him more difficult still. He’d have trouble finding the words in his native tongue. As it was, he did his best. “I want in writing. Nothing I teach to make or anything like it be used for fighting, yes? Or making, ah, making people do things. Only for helping, yes? In writing. Make it a law. You are in charge you can do that, yes?” Anything anyone in any position of authority said or promised or wrote down was, of course, utterly worthless and subject to change at the merest shifting of the wind or mood or fashion or just the sheer unbridled hell of it, obviously, but there wasn’t a lot else Paul felt he could do, and he felt he had to do something. “That doesn’t seem neces-” Luna started to say, but Celestia cut in (to Luna’s obvious minor irritation). “I am sure something can be arranged, Paul.” He nodded, then grimaced. The next bit was going to be hard. “I know - I know you are not as...bad...as I am used to, maybe. Not as bad as I think you are. I know that with this, what I do, you would not - probably not - do anything...that I would expect. Not like at home, maybe. Not like people in charge I am used to, maybe. But I need promise because...I just need it. But you are not so bad, I know,” he said, every word a grinding effort. “That’s the kindest thing you’ve ever said to me, Paul,” Celestia said, a hoof clutched to her chest. “Hmph,” said Paul, gearing up for the next bit which was going to be even harder. “I…” he started, swallowing, then pressing on - he’d been doing a lot of pressing on lately. It was exhausting: “I am sorry.” “Whatever for?” Luna asked, Celestia clearly still dealing with the shock. Paul swallowed. How to phrase this? “For being, ah, a bastard - not poh-lite. Being difficult. You try to help me, make life easier, whatever, I do not accept. All trying to move on in life, move forward. Cozy, you, others, trying to grow, get better. And I say this is good but I do not do it and that - and that is stupid. If I think it is good if, you know, Cozy try to do better in life then I should not say that I cannot do better. You know? I - ah, fuck, what am I even saying…” He wasn’t entirely sure.  In this he had a similar problem to Cozy (although he didn’t know this, of course), where what he was attempting to convey made perfect, concise, crystal-clear sense in his head but was refusing to be readily translated outside of his head, a problem exacerbated for him by his inability to properly articulate himself. What he wanted to say - what he mostly had nailed down - was that it was pretty rich of him to be sitting there, encouraging Cozy to go off and be her best and move on in life, while he himself utterly refused to, with the excuse that ‘Oh, I’ll be dead soon anyway’ only getting him so far and not really being that much of an excuse in the first place, either.  Never too late to not be acting like an idiot, something he knew, but which he had been abjectly rejecting as an option for himself. He knew entirely well how much of an idiot he was in those things he chose to do idiotically. He was old enough and ugly enough to be entirely aware and old enough not to care. When presented with a platter of options he’d choose the easy one that required the least effort and kept him exactly where he was, even over an equally-easy one that might make things just that tiny bit better.  Fine when he’d been on his own, yes, but now that Cozy’s personal wellbeing was more-or-less hitched to his own, in many ways? That she apparently cared about him? That he had someone else in his life now and a someone who was just as concerned about him as he was about her? Sigh, no longer afforded the luxury of wallowing in his rut until that rut became his grave.  So to speak. That was what he was trying to express. That was what made perfect sense in this head. He just couldn’t quite get it out. Alongside trying to actually, legitimately apologise to these two magical horses for… …being present at times when some of those opportunities for life-improvement had presented themselves. And for sometimes being… …involved in those opportunities. Ahem. Agreeably they had tried to stick his daughter in a hole in the ground that one time, but crucially that had been one time and they had only tried. After that they’d been fairly supportive. Hell, last year or so almost nothing but supportive. But it hadn’t started well.  So no, he wasn’t going to forgive them outright, but he would give them the credit at least of immediately going for an alternative when one presented itself. Not actually looking for an alternative, but still… “Paul? Are you alright? You’re being unusually quiet, even for you,” Celestia said, gently, looking as though she was considering nudging him but then thinking better of it. Paul realised he had blanked out for a moment there, lost in thoughts that had got him absolutely nowhere while just silently staring at some fixed point in the middle-distance. He shook his head and gritted his teeth, back in the present. “If I want Cozy to be better I have to be better too. As - as father of her - as her father I need to be better. Whatever that means. And this thing you offer is probably good way, if she think so. So thank you. Yes. Yes.” Paul had hit his limit now and clammed up. He’d mostly got his point across though. Celestia and Luna understood a portion of what he’d meant, and they appreciated it. “Excellent. Thank you, Paul. I’ll have the details finalised on our return to Canterlot and somepony will be in contact with you,” Celestia said. “Hmph.” He was already regretting it, but it was too late now. “Paul,” Luna said, and his attention switched herwards. “Since we are talking and since Cozy Glow is presently otherwise engaged, there is something I have been meaning to ask you but have been unable to find the right moment to do so.” This seemed like a mouthful to Paul, and her delicate approach to whatever it was she was trying to talk about left him on-edge. What was she going for, here? “Hmm?” Unlike Celestia - who he had been ‘encouraged’ to meet with fairly regularly for a fairly lengthy period of time - Luna was still something of an unknown quantity to Paul, particularly given that he hadn’t seen her at all now for going on over a year or more. His initial, hostile impression didn’t help much either. Luna, having seized the reins of the conversation, now hesitated, but only briefly. “How is…” She started to ask, though she couldn’t seem to settle on how best to finish. Paul, at last clocking what she was driving at (far faster than even he himself expected), stepped in to assist: “Other-Cozy? Seem good, last I speak. Busy. Doing lots.” It had been a little while - life seemingly having got both of them in its icy grip - but the last time they’d spoken she’d seemed to have been in fine enough fettle. Luna nodded, accepting this answer. “That’s good, I am glad,” she said. “Does she - does she talk about her mother at all?” Her ‘mother’ in this instance being Luna. Or else some weirdo, other-dimensional version of Luna who had been the one who’d ended up as surrogate parental figure to Cozy in place of himself. Honestly, the whole thing had been the sort of event to give Paul a headache thinking about it, and he was from another dimension himself. Still. That Luna - this Luna, the one right in front of him talking to him - was asking at all did at least suggest this was something that had been weighing on her, for whatever reason. Paul wasn’t going to probe her motivations. He didn’t have the energy and, as always, he didn’t really care all that much. It was important to her somehow, he didn’t need to know why exactly. There were details, whether he knew them or not. “Little bit. It is not something that comes up all that much. If you want, you can talk to her sometime. Book is easy to use,” he said.  The (magical) book in question being the means by which he spoke to the other-Cozy, a device she herself had made, impressive and accomplished girl that she was. Luna blinked, surprised by the offer or more likely surprised to find the offer coming from Paul. “Ah, perhaps. I would like that, actually. If it’s convenient for you? When is convenient for you?” She asked. “Anytime, anytime, it does not matter. No-one seems to care about coming into my life whenever they want, anyway…” “Well that’s nice. Isn’t this nice? This has been a most productive conversation, Paul, if I do say so myself. And to think, would any of this come about had Cozy not wanted to get you a birthday present?” Celestia asked. Or thought a little harder about getting him a birthday present, or decided on getting one from not quite so far afield, or any other one of a myriad other tiny differentiating factors that could have resulted in the whole mess not occurring in the first place. But that was all implied. Paul got that by implication. “Hmph. It seems to have worked out for the best,” he said. “It has worked out for the best,” Celestia said, emphatically.  He wasn’t going to argue. With exquisite timing, Twilight and Cozy approached, talking as they did so. “ -I’m just saying, there are standards if you’re giving a tour. You shouldn’t be repeating things that anyone can just look up and find out aren’t true! It’s not-” Twilight was saying, as one who had been saying similar things for some time might say them. “Are you finished?” Cozy asked Paul, cutting across Twilight who was reduced to simmering silence, her opinions halted before they’d had a chance to fully empty themselves out across their audience. “Yes. We are finished,” Paul said. “Good. Work out whatever it is you needed to work out?” Cozy asked, looking from Paul to the other two, the three of them - the three ‘adults’ - sharing a moment of mutual, silent agreement. They had worked it out. “I think so, yes,” Paul said. “Great. What was it that I didn’t need to hear about?” Cozy then asked, directing her question explicitly at Luna and Celestia, knowing they could be relied upon to undermine Paul. “He admitted that you were right and also apologised to us,” Luna said. An adequate summary of events. “Ah, can see why he wanted me out of the way for that,” Cozy said, smirking back at him. He grimaced, thoroughly undermined. “Eurgh…” “He also said that he would agree to my proposal,” said Celestia. That one Cozy hadn’t expected. “The teaching thing?” “Yes, that.” “Ooh!” Twilight squeaked from the sidelines. “Fancy that…” Cozy said, now turning to Paul with a certain level of honest surprise. He shifted awkwardly. “You say is good for me, good for everyone, whatever. Good idea, maybe, I don’t know,” he said, on the edge of mumbling. “Is this just because I said I thought you should?” Cozy asked. “No. It is because you said you thought I should and I think you may be right,” Paul said. A subtle difference, but an important one. “Proud of you, dad,” Cozy said, pitching her tone perfectly to make it completely impossible to tell whether she was being heartfelt and sincere or just taking the piss. “Oh shush, child,” Paul said, then: “We go now. I am tired. Let us go, Cozy. Come on, I need to sit down.” “Said all you need to say? Sure you don’t want to keep talking? Maybe admit I was right about a few more things? I could probably remember some more,” Cozy said, trotting along after Paul who was already limping away. “Yes, yes, all done, finished now. All happy,” he said. “We’re very glad you’re happy, Paul,” Celestia said. “Yes yes, it-” Paul’s brain clicked. He stopped. He turned. “Wait. Wait…” he said. Celestia grinned. “How long…?” “Oh, about as long as you’ve known our names, if I had to guess,” she said. Paul raised a finger and then, slowly, cracked a smile. “Alright. That was alright, you’re alright. You got me,” he said.