You Do (Not) Belong

by 2dextreem

The Fourth Day: Something to Hold On To

It had taken a fair amount of wandering the streets of Ponyville, with more than a few occasions of getting turned around on himself, but finally, at last, Connor found himself standing at the base of the tree housing the Golden Oak Library.

And it was about time, too. It had been at least half an hour since his little “pep talk” with Rainbow Dash, and in that time, just as she had promised, the storm had only gotten worse. A far cry from the gently falling mist of the early afternoon, the rain was now coming down in thick sheets, each droplet feeling like a hail of pebbles on the hood wrapped tightly around Connor’s head. Sunset was still a ways off, but one wouldn’t know it from the way the thick, billowing clouds in the sky cast everything in a dank, claustrophobic dimness.

Connor stared straight ahead, his arms wrapped around his body to ward off both the cold and the moisture that, despite Rarity’s enchantments, had at least partially soaked into the fabric of his coat. The candle graphic inlaid in the wood of the library’s door brought forth a yearning to be inside, where it was warm, dry and comfortable.

And all he had to do in order to fulfill that desire was to face up to Twilight, and leave his pride at the door.

A part of him really wanted to believe Rainbow when she said everything was going to work out just fine; that the scholar pony would just welcome him back as if nothing had happened. He even tried convincing himself that it wouldn’t be so bad, but that failed the moment he started to imagine the chewing out she would have had hours to prepare for. And whatever was in store for him on the other side of that door, he was one hundred percent convinced that he deserved every bit of it for how stupid and selfish he’d been acting.

A sudden clap of thunder emanating from above jarred Connor from his thoughts, and brought his attention back to his current situation.

Nothing’s going to get done if I just stand here dreading it, he thought, as a brisk shiver ran down his body. Whatever’s gonna happen is gonna happen. Might as well get it over with now.

His sneakers squelching in the muddy ground, Connor took a few steps up to the library’s entrance, his hand outstretched and balled into a fist. He held it up for a moment, shaking slightly, before he breathed in and quickly rapped on the wooden surface three times.

Seconds passed by with no obvious reaction, and Connor let go the breath he had been holding as his arm fell to his side. Listening as intently as he could, he didn’t even hear any indication of movement on the other side.

Maybe she’s not home, he figured, before shaking his head negatively. No, the lights are on. Somebody has to be home.

Connor stood still in the rain for a few more seconds, before he raised his hand again to attempt knocking a second time. This action was interrupted, however, when the door suddenly became encased in a shifting violet aura, and with the click of a latch and the creak of hinges, both halves slowly swung inwards.

Looking up, Connor peered inside the library’s interior to see both Twilight and Spike, settled amidst a haphazardly arranged landscape of books both open and closed, almost as if an earthquake had come along and knocked the contents of the library’s shelves all over the floor. As for the pony and the dragon themselves, neither one of them spoke up, and merely looked at the human standing forlornly in the doorway with steadfast expressions on their faces.

Silence reigned between them for an uncomfortably long time, and an unpleasant sensation settled in the pit of Connor’s stomach as his mind scrambled for a response. While he hesitated, however, Twilight ended up being the first to speak.

“Well?” she said simply, expectantly raising an eyebrow.

Connor swallowed reflexively, his face burning as he finally managed to find his voice. “I... I take back everything I said,” he blurted out, hoping that he sounded sincere, at least. “I didn’t mean a word of it. I wasn’t... I-I just...” Eyes turning down to the wood-knotted floor as he trailed off, Connor let out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry.”

Finally able to choke out the words, Connor meekly lifted his gaze up to gauge Twilight’s reaction.

The lavender mare looked at him for a few seconds more, then closed her eyes, lowering her head and breathing in deeply. And when she opened them again... she was smiling. “Well, are you going to come in, or not? It’s raining pretty hard out there.”

With a start, Connor’s jaw fell slightly at this quite unexpected development. He had assumed she would at least have scolded him a little; reiterating what he’d said and done, explaining in detail how it made her feel, and demanding that he promise it would never happen again. But no, none of those things. Just a calm acceptance of his apology, and a gentle smile to communicate that all was forgiven.

After taking a few seconds to fully absorb the situation, Connor then wasted no time gratefully ducking past the door’s threshold and closing it behind him, shutting out the storm. Once inside, he was instantly greeted by a wall of warm, dry air, and he relished the feeling. He was visibly relieved to be out of the pouring rain, which was made all the more evident by his body’s steady shivering and how his clothes were still dripping wet.

Getting up from her perch between two rather large piles of books, Twilight gingerly stepped around them and made her way over to where Connor was standing. “Look at you, you’re soaked,” she remarked as she looked him up and down. “Wait right here, I’ll go get you a towel.”

“Thanks,” Connor managed without chattering his teeth, and with a short nod, Twilight turned and departed down the hallway leading off towards the right.

He listened to the sound of her hoofsteps carry off, before he reached up to remove his hood and pull down the zipper of his waterlogged jacket. He then shrugged out of it, eager to get it off of himself, and casually hung it up on the head of the wooden pony bust on the center table to air out. After that, he kicked off his shoes, likewise slick with rain, and put them over by the door lest he track mud all over the place. Satisfied, Connor then took a moment to examine the state of the library a little more closely.

While the floor of the library was largely clear between the front door and the hallways that led off in either direction to the basement and the kitchen, the area between the table and the stairs was a different story. Built up like mountains, several piles of thickly bound tomes rose up from the floor, with a good deal more spread out surrounding them. A few were opened, like the one held in Spike’s claws as he sat perched atop one of the piles, but the rest were laid out in a sort of organized chaos that felt strangely both like and unlike the fastidious pony who owned them. If Connor didn’t know better, it was almost as if Twilight had built herself a fortress of books, like something one would expect from a young child.

He chuckled lightly at the thought, before his attention was drawn by the sound of Twilight returning to the main foyer, a big, fluffy white towel encased in her magic as it floated beside her. She stopped, and with a gentle flick of her head, ferried the towel over to Connor, which he eagerly accepted and wrapped around himself.

Connor’s eyes closed and he shuddered with relief. The towel was incredibly warm, as if it had just come out of a dryer, and he could literally feel it leeching away the cold and the moisture from his skin and T-shirt.

“Ohhhh, this is nice,” he said with a smile. “Thanks a lot.”

With one hand, he brought up one end of the towel to dry off his hair and forehead, pausing hesitantly when it made contact with the unwelcome horn that remained fixed to the center of it. Suddenly reminded of its presence, he was a little upset by the fact that he had apparently forgotten about it for any length of time. He didn’t know which was worse: that he had simply forgotten about it, or that he had so quickly gotten used to it being there.

Meanwhile, taking notice of his slight grimace, Twilight looked up at the teenager, her expression turning to one of calm concern. “How is your, um...” She hesitated, not wanting to say something possibly upsetting.

“It’s alright,” Connor sighed, lowering his arm and again bundling the towel around his form. “You can say it.”

“Does it still hurt?”

“Thankfully, no.” Connor shook his head. “It just sort of aches a little.”

“Would you mind if I take a closer look?” Twilight asked innocently.

Taking a second to realize what she was asking, Connor nodded slowly and knelt down to her level. The unicorn took a step forward, tilting her head as she studied the small horn with an analytical expression.

“I thought so,” she said after a while, Connor feeling as though he was a patient being examined by a doctor. “It’s definitely bigger than it was this morning.”

“Wonderful,” Connor grumbled, wondering just how far this development was going to go before it stopped. Like he hadn’t suffered enough, already.

“Don’t worry. If there’s a solution, I’ll find it,” Twilight reassured him confidently as she took a step back and allowed Connor to stand up straight again. She then made her way through the narrow path forged between the piles of books back to her -- for lack of a better word -- “nest” among the mounds of literature.

“Is that why this place looks like a tornado came through here?” Connor asked glibly, remarking on the disheveled state of the normally pristine library.

“That’s right. I’ve been looking through everything in the library that could possibly be relevant to the situation,” Twilight explained, waving one of her forelegs in the direction of a nearby pile of books that looked to be really thickly bound. “I’ve already gone through most of the encyclopedias, as well as some of the more obscure magical reference manuals.”

“And have you found anything?”

Twilight sighed, hanging her head slightly. “Sadly... no. I haven’t come across anything to clue me in to what’s affecting you.” She looked to another pile of books, as well as the one currently open in front of her. “But there’s still a lot that I haven’t gone through yet. The answer could still be here, somewhere.”

“Can I help?” Connor spoke up quickly.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I could help you read through some of these, to help things go faster,” he explained hopefully. “It’s the least I could do. I’d feel guilty if I just sat around doing nothing while you guys worked.”

“Well, thanks for the offer, but...” Twilight trailed off, eyeing the pile next to her with a small bit of concern. “I get the feeling most of this stuff would simply fly over your head. No offense.”

“None taken. I understand,” Connor conceded, sighing deeply. It went without saying that magic was not something he could claim to have any familiarity with.

“Hmm... Maybe...” Twilight raised a hoof to her chin in thought. “I think I have some lighter material on the second floor you just might be able to grasp. Let me get that for you.”

“Thanks, I’d appreciate that,” Connor called back to her as she went to ascend the staircase, leaving just him and Spike in the library’s main room.

Now feeling sufficiently dry enough, Connor removed the towel and placed it on the table in the center before sitting down next to it and crossing his legs. As he propped his arms up on the table and set his chin in his palms, he noticed how quiet the room had become, and his eyes darted over to the dragon sitting a few feet away, who had been conspicuously silent since he had walked in the door.

And as he saw now, Spike was looking right at him, not bothering to hide the somewhat nasty glare he was directing right at the human.

“What?” Connor addressed to the reptile, puzzled by his expression.

“You know what.”

Connor closed his eyes and sighed, using a hand to rub to corners of his eyes. “She told you, didn’t she?”

“Didja think she wouldn’t?” Spike asked rhetorically, putting down the book he was holding and folding his arms together.

“I don’t know... To be honest, I thought she was really gonna let me have it, given how angry she was when she left.”

“Oh, she was angry, all right,” Spike pointed out. “But of course, Twilight being Twilight, she eventually got over it.”

Connor opened his mouth, but didn’t have any words prepared. Looking off to the side in thought, he closed it again, and Spike took his cue to continue talking.

“You know, you’re lucky Twi’s such a great friend. If I was there when you said that stuff, you’d have a lot more to worry about then a horn growing out of your head.”

“I know, okay? I know,” Connor said irritatedly. He didn’t need Spike to continue layering on the guilt at this point. “I feel absolutely awful about what happened, and I just... I just wish I could’ve handled things differently. With everything she’s done for me, Twilight deserves better. All of you do, I realize that now.”

Connor found himself thinking back to the night before, of meeting Twilight’s friends and how they were so quick to include him and make him feel welcome, as if he was never a stranger to them; simply a potential friend. It was difficult to imagine a similar scenario happening on Earth, and yet here, it was perfectly normal. Encouraged, in fact.

In so short a time, he had met the most wonderful group of people he could think of. And if he kept on going how he was, he was in danger of losing them just as quickly.

Unexpectedly, just the thought of it almost made him feel sick. No, he couldn’t let that happen. Something had to change.

“Things are gonna be different now. I want to be the friend all of you expect of me. I want to be better,” Connor confessed, suppressing a small choking sensation in his throat. “I’m never going to take that friendship for granted ever again, I promise. Twilight... Everyone... I owe them at least that much.”

As difficult as it was for him to admit, it was the truth, and he meant every word. In response, Spike quietly looked at him a moment more with his slit green eyes. Then, he nodded approvingly, giving him a small grin and showing a few of his pointed teeth. “For your sake, I sure hope so.”

Just then, the sound of a creak from the stairwell brought both of their notice to the top of the stairs, where Twilight had just appeared, carrying a selection of tomes in her telekinesis. Her ears flattened slightly at the attention before she started her way down.

“I, uh... got those books for you,” she mentioned as she reached the bottom steps, and she levitated the items in question over to where Connor was sitting.

“Thanks.” Connor snatched the topmost book off the stack, titled Common Equestrian Magical Maladies and cracked it open, while Twilight settled down into the little nook she had stocked with a thick blanket and a few colorful pillows.

Less than a minute later, and barely a page into the prologue, Connor already had the impression he was way out of his depth. Thankful at least that it was written in plain English, half of the words still felt entrenched in another language. With words like “leylines,” “keratin,” and “sub-magical interference,” accompanied by the admittedly dry nature of the writing, he could already feel the contents numbing up his brain.

“You call this ‘light’ material? This stuff’s gonna put me to sleep in minutes.”

“Hmm...” Twilight looked up from her own work, and considered for a moment. Then her ears perked up with an epiphany. “I have an idea. How about we brew up some tea? That ought to keep you awake,” she said with a wink. Then, she turned to her scaled assistant. “Spike, could you take care of that, please?”

“Sure thing, Twi. What’re you in the mood for tonight?” the dragon child asked enthusiastically as he closed his book and hopped off his perch.

Twilight’s muzzle scrunched up in thought before coming to a decision. “I think I’ll go for the peppermint this time.”

“Peppermint, got it.” Spike nodded, then turned to Connor. “What about you?”

“I’m not much of a tea drinker, really,” Connor said, scratching the back of his neck. “Something light, I guess. Green, if you have it.”

“Two mugs of tea, comin’ right up!”

“Thanks, Number One Assistant,” Twilight regarded Spike with a warm smile, already anticipating the rich, savory flavor of her favorite herbal brew.

As Spike quickly bounded off towards the kitchen to get busy brewing, Connor turned his attention back to the book in front of him.

Only a few more lines in, he couldn’t help but think to himself, Man, I usually enjoy reading, but I get the feeling this isn’t going to be a fun night.

While it often takes some time for them to become apparent, varying according to the frequency and intensity of bites, symptoms of humbug infestation typically manifest within hours of initial exposure. The first signs are usually a pronounced decrease in positive emotions, followed by a general irritability and inflammation of the skin around the eyes...

Taking his eyes off the page, Connor tilted his head back in order to let out a mighty yawn. Even with the chemical boost he had gotten from his mug of tea (which lay off to the side, having been emptied a long time ago) he was having trouble focusing on the task at hand.

It also didn’t help that the bombard of information being spewed at him from one of the books Twilight gave him had combined with his tiredness to produce a buzzing ache originating behind his eyes. Groaning slightly, Connor reached a hand up to massage away the pressure in his temples, trying his hardest to focus on the words in front of him in the hopes that they could provide the answers he sought.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he also registered a slight itching sensation at the base of his horn, and he absently rubbed it for a second before starting to read again.

Treatment of those affected, however, is fairly straightforward. Humbugs have a natural weakness to mentha-piperita (peppermint) leaves; direct contact with it in any form serves to melt their icy bodies and release the captured emotional energy into the air. Standard procedure upon discovery of a nest is a liberal sprinkling of...

Connor’s reading was again interrupted, this time not by the urge to yawn, but of something curious on this page of the book. Right in the center of the paper was a dot of color, bright red in stark contrast to the yellowed-beige hue surrounding it. As his brain ticked over, he looked at it blearily for a few seconds... before it was joined suddenly by a second red dot, spontaneously appearing just next to it.

Tilting his head curiously, Connor reached his hand over and touched the spots lightly with his finger, and when he turned his hand over, he could see that the red coloring had smeared wetly across it.

Now slightly more lucid, he took exactly two seconds to wonder what it could’ve been, until he saw another drop of the red substance fall into his vision, landing on his outstretched hand with an almost inaudible patter.

Connor’s eyes instantly shot open and he breathed deeply through his nose. With a start, his hand shot up to touch the horn, and he felt a sensation of dread creep up his spine when he felt its warm, slick surface. Slowly, hesitantly, and with his breath coming in short bursts, he lowered his hand in front of his face, and he saw no small amount of what was most assuredly blood, coating the tips of his fingers.

Without warning, Connor stood up from his seat and turned around, his feet thumping on the hardwood floor as he ran in the direction of the bathroom without so much as an explanation. The hurried action caught the attention of Twilight and Spike, too engrossed in their own reading to notice something amiss until that point.

“Connor? What’s wrong?” Twilight called out to him just as he rounded the corner into the hallway, and was silent for a moment until it became obvious that he wasn’t about to explain. Curious, she turned to her assistant with a worried expression on her muzzle. “What was that about?”

In response, Spike merely shrugged his small shoulders. “Hey, when you gotta go, you gotta go.”

“Hmm...” The unicorn puzzled for a bit, before eventually accepting the dragon’s observation and returning to her reading.

Unfortunately -- and despite Spike’s innocent assumption -- events in the library’s bathroom were far more dire.

With the light on and the door closed behind him, Connor stood with his arms propped up on the base of the sink, staring at his reflection in the mirror. The face that looked back at him was the very image of abject horror as a small trickle of blood streamed from the base of his horn, blazing a trail ever downwards.

Even more disturbing than the sight of the blood, however, was what was happening to the object producing it. As he watched, the bony, flesh-covered spire was slowly, agonizingly, but oh-so-surely extending further outwards, growing longer at a pace that was just barely visible to the naked eye. It was already edging past three inches in length, and showed no signs of stopping now.

The mild itching sensation he had felt earlier had transformed as well, evolving into an immensely painful tearing feeling that felt as if his skin was being torn right off his body. And with a single thought that made him want to throw up, Connor realized that that was exactly what was happening.

Connor choked back a scream as the sensation intensified, and he clamped his eyes shut, putting a supreme effort into bearing with the pain. This wasn’t like the sensation that accompanied the brain-blasting headache from the previous night. No, this was more direct, more localized, and in contrast to before, it looked like he was going to have to be conscious through the entire thing.

And as the seconds wore on, the pain only kept getting worse.

“Oh, God...” Connor cried out, tears of pure anguish squeezing out of his eyes and mingling with the blood currently streaming down the center of his face. His breath came fast and hard, taking in short bursts of air.

To the exclusion of all else, he simply wanted this to end. Nothing else mattered except making the pain go away, and given the source of his distress, only one option was available to make the inevitable occur just a little bit faster. Connor’s knees went weak with the thought, but he managed to regain his composure just long enough to shakily raise a single hand up to his head, up along his face, and gently wrap his trembling fingers around the blood-slick horn.

Now, Connor wasn’t a religious person, but as his other hand gripped the bathroom counter for all he was worth, and he psyched himself up for what he was about to do, he seriously considered praying to whatever god would listen.

Get ready, Connor. This... is gonna hurt.

Taking a final, deep breath and holding it in, Connor squeezed tightly, and pulled as hard as he could.

His eyes fluttered open, stars danced in his sight, and a strangled cry made its way past his clenched teeth as the pain increased tenfold. There was the sickening sound of skin being wetly pried apart, but Connor could barely hear it over the deafening ringing in his ears. For the moment unable to continue, he let up on the pressure, but it barely helped; his forehead still felt like it was being bathed in acid.

With only a few short breaths to collect himself, and not allowing himself enough time to reconsider, he braced for just one more push, and put all his effort into one more try. His vision swimming and his extremities going numb, it was all he could do to stand upright as he followed through with his self-inflicted torture.

“Nnnnnngh-GYAAH!” he screamed in spite of himself, and with that primal expression of anguish Connor finally succeeded in tearing off the loose layer of skin from the rest of the horn with the sound like a soggy newspaper being rent in two.

All at once, the pain stopped. Thankfully, mercifully, the pain stopped, replaced by a sore burning sensation that coursed through the area that used to be attached to what Connor now held in his palm, as the ensuing rush of endorphins came to soothe his nerves.

Done with this ordeal, Connor’s whole body went slack, and the dead skin in his hand fell into the sink even as the rest of him fell to his knees. Weakly, and with a supreme amount of effort, he managed to raise his head just high enough to peer back at his reflection.

All he saw -- all he cared to notice, really -- was the horn. It dominated his forehead in all its four and a half-inch glory, bluntly tipped and glistening sanguinely in the light, with a curved spiral etched down the sides.

Just like a unicorn’s.

Connor stared blankly, his thoughts turning to so much white noise as he took in the image of this fresh hell, framed by his hair and face, streamed with rusty red blood.

It all ended up being too much. There comes a time in situations like these where the conscious mind has to forcibly shut itself down in order to spare itself from a complete traumatic burnout.

And right then, a combination of the nightmarish sight in the mirror, all of the pain and suffering, all of the trials and struggles and conflicts of the past few days, and the crushing reality of his situation all came rushing together at once. Everything he had experienced so far, everything he had just barely been able to manage, everything that no decent person could ever have deserved to have happen to them, built up in this moment to an impossibly huge wave of despair and helplessness.

And as of just then, that wave had crested.

Needless to say, Connor’s mind took a little vacation.

“Connor? Are you okay in there?” Twilight called out worriedly from next to the bathroom door, before knocking on it a few times more.

She at first assumed, as Spike had, that the reason he had left the foyer so suddenly was to “take care of business,” so to speak, so she didn’t think much of it. That is, until she started hearing obvious shouts and cries of pain emanating from the hallway. It didn’t take long after that for her and her draconic assistant to rush over in order to see what the problem was.

“Connor, please, tell me what’s wrong!” the unicorn tried again, yet her pleas continued to go unanswered from the other side of the door. This was a bad sign, a very bad sign. That much was obvious.

“Maybe you should go in and check on him,” Spike suggested from her flank, and she paused for a second to look back at him and nod slowly in the affirmative.

“Okay. I’m coming in, alright?” Twilight addressed the door, before hesitantly placing a hoof on the wooden surface. With an ounce of trepidation, she pushed forwards, edging the door open with an ominous creak as she slowly peeked her head inside. What she saw made her gasp audibly and draw her hoof back. “Oh, my Celestia...”

It was like something straight out of a scene from a horror story. Right in the middle of the small room, Connor knelt at the base of the countertop, numbly staring at the mirror without so much as moving, save for the occasional fluttery blink. It was obvious, judging by the state of his now fully-formed horn, what had happened in there, but that didn’t make the consequences any easier to stomach.

Blood. Blood of a sickening coppery color covered Connor’s horn, his face, his neck, and his hands. Blood smeared across the white porcelain of the sink, slowly drying.

Twilight forced herself to suppress a dry heave at the sight. Despite her misgivings, concern for her friend overpowered her baser instincts, and she was able to shake it off quickly enough.

“Oh, Connor...” she whispered sadly, as she trotted up to his side. She almost followed that up with “Are you okay?” but immediately dismissed that notion; he was obviously not okay.

Following in her wake, Spike’s head then appeared in the doorway opening. “Twi-- Whoa! What the hay happened here!?” he exclaimed out of shock as soon as he took in the details.

“Spike, not now!” Twilight shouted back at him, maybe a little harsher than she intended, judging by the way he meekly slinked back behind the door frame. She then turned her attention back to Connor. “Do you... Does it hurt?”

Connor didn’t answer, maintaining his thousand-yard stare. Although, Twilight was close enough to notice that his entire body was shivering very slightly, and his breaths were shaky and ragged.

The unicorn debated internally whether or not to try and bring Connor back to the hospital, as the case could be made that he needed immediate medical attention. But after a moment to think about it, she considered that the shellshocked human was in no condition to travel at the moment. Besides, as traumatic as the apparent “injury” was, it at least seemed to be over for now.

I can’t just leave him like this, though, Twilight thought morosely, her formidable mind searching for options and unfortunately coming up with none right off the bat. Another look at the face in the mirror, however, and a temporary course of action sprang forward. Something to start with, at least.

“Let’s get you out of here,” she said as gently as she could, wrapping a foreleg around Connor’s arm. “I’ll take you upstairs so we can get you cleaned up. Come on, it’s just a short walk. Can you do that for me?”

Using her leg to subtly coax him upright, Connor wordlessly complied, standing to his full height while Twilight never let go of his arm. With that, she slowly led him away from the grisly scene in the bathroom, pointedly shutting off the light and closing the door behind her with a determined application of magic.

“Spike, could you fetch a small towel and a bowl of warm water, please?” she asked of her assistant, who had remained just a few feet away and was staring up at Connor with much the same expression Twilight had sported earlier.

“Uh, sure thing, Twi. Is he...?”

“One thing at a time, Spike. Just bring the towel and the water to the loft as quickly as you can.”

Spike nodded at once, and ran off to the kitchen to fulfill the request.

Twilight, for her part, remained silent out of consideration as she shepherded Connor out into the foyer, gingerly stepping around the piles of books on the floor and up the stairs while the teenager shuffled along in her wake. Without a word spoken between them, she managed to guide Connor up through the second floor, past a still fast-asleep Owloysius sitting on his perch, to the third story loft. Twilight led him over to his guest bed, which he lowered himself onto with a dull thump, still staring straight ahead.

That empty stare all but broke Twilight’s heart. It was a look of escapism: blank, drained of emotion and sensation. For all her magical ability, she soberly realized there was woefully little she could do to in this case. The only method available to help now was to simply hold his hand in her hoof comfortingly, as she waited for Spike to return with what she needed.

She didn’t need to wait long, as her number one assistant padded quickly up the stairs with towel and bowl in claw. He placed them on the floor at the foot of the bed.

“Thanks, Spike.” Twilight managed a weak smile in his direction. “I think it would be best if you left us alone for now.”

“Of course, Twi. I hope... That is, uh... I should just go.”

With that, the dragon child made his quick exit from the loft and down to the ground floor, while Twilight’s horn ignited in a soft violet hue as she lifted up the cloth. She dipped it in the bowl to soak up some water and then wrung it out, then she used her hoof to turn Connor’s hand over before setting to work.

With careful, slow determination, she worked the towel across his exposed skin, wiping away as much of the red stain as she could before rinsing it off in the bowl and continuing. She cleaned off his hands, then gently removed his glasses in order to wipe his face and neck, then finally progressed to the horn that was the source of all this trouble.

Her magical projection halted for a second, hesitantly monitoring Connor’s body for any reaction, but there was none; not even a flinch, and she took that as a sign to proceed. As quickly as she could, Twilight worked the damp cloth over the smooth, spiraled texture, cleaning away the blood to reveal a perfect, ghostly white underneath. As she worked her way down to the base she noticed that, despite the dire assumptions one might make about the injury, no open wound was present where the bone met the skin. It was a perfectly seamless transition, flush with the surface of Connor’s forehead in a way very similar to pony anatomy.

The unicorn’s analytical side was intrigued by this development, but it was hardly important now. The safety and well-being of her friend was all that mattered at this point.

“There, I think that’s all of it.” Twilight backed away for a step, using her magic to move the soiled cloth and water bowl out of sight for now. She struggled to come up with a followup, conflicted about pressuring Connor any further when he had already apparently lost it. “Is there... anything else I can do to help?”

Twilight was momentarily set aback as this query finally managed to produce a reaction, and Connor responded by slowly bringing his legs up onto the bed with him, wrapping his arms around his knees in a kind of upright fetal position. He still neglected to speak.

“Maybe it would be best if I gave you some time alone?”

The human answered by clinging to himself even more tightly, like he was trying to seem as small as possible. Twilight interpreted that as some form of affirmative, and nodded slowly before turning around. “If you need anything,” she said over her shoulder. “...I’m right downstairs. Just let me know, okay?”

Despondently, Twilight faced towards the stairs again, and picked up her hooves to take a few steps forward.

“I’m scared...”

Twilight gasped, her ears perking up in the direction of the shaky, barely audible whisper. She turned on the spot, her cautious hope at this new development tempered by the message Connor had chosen to deliver. Hesitantly, she approached him again, just now noticing that a batch of fresh tears were starting to form in his eyes.

“I’m so scared, Twilight,” he said again, and his tone of voice left not a flicker of doubt in the pony’s mind that it was true.

“Don’t worry... It’s all going to be okay,” she tried to assure him, keeping her voice low.

“No... No, no, no...” Connor choked back a sob, slowly shaking his head. “I can’t... I can’t keep going like this. It’s too much... Too much...” Twin streams of tears flowing down his face, he then buried his head in his knees.

“Don’t say that, of course you can.” Twilight tried to sound convincing, but she had to admit to herself that to her own ears, the sentiment seemed hollow. “You can’t give up now. We’ll figure this out.”

This made Connor raise his head again, along with his voice, which came out fast and unsteady as his fear was given form. “But what if we don’t, huh!? What if you can’t figure it out!? What if we can’t fix it!? What if it doesn’t stop!? What if...”

Connor’s pained, contorted expression went slack and the color drained from his face, as the whirlwind of thoughts in his head went grimly still.

“What if it... k...kills me?”

A sense of inescapable dread fell over him like a shroud, and Connor curled up again, his entire body shaking uncontrollably as his fragile state of mind kept returning to this one possibility.

“This is it. I'm never going back. Never gonna go home,” he managed between sobs as his eyes clenched shut, and he sunk further into a state of complete despair. “Never... I can’t... I can’t...”

Connor felt trapped, like a caged animal, resigned to his fate. There was nothing he could do. He had no control over anything. Maybe he never did. Maybe it was all just some cruel cosmic joke, and the punchline would come when he had absolutely nothing left.

He didn’t notice the subtle shift in weight that indicated a depression in the bed beside him.

What he did notice, however, was when that presence was followed up by a soft, ethereal touch on his shoulder, breaking him out of his emotional death spiral.

With a start, Connor gasped, and jerkily turned his head up to see Twilight’s face less than a foot away from his own. Time seemed to slow down just then, and he took her in with a succinct level of clarity.

The sad, pained, sympathetic expression dominating her surprisingly humanlike features. Her wide, violet eyes brimming with tears of her own. The way her leg wrapped around his shoulders, putting a subtle hint of pressure on his body to draw him closer. All of this came together to communicate one simple message:

I’m here for you.

Unable to control himself, Connor threw his arms around her, gripping her tightly. He was sobbing openly, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He simply held on to the lavender pony as if his very life depended on it.

No words needed to be said. Nothing so impermanent was necessary at this point. Just the gentle presence of someone who cared, someone who wouldn’t judge, someone to depend on.

When it felt like Connor’s entire world was crashing down all at once... it was something to hold on to.

Maybe that could be enough.

The two of them remained like that for a long time, Connor burying his face in Twilight’s downy fur as she held him close, slowly rubbing his back with one hoof while he let it all go.

In this state, Connor felt disconnected, every sense falling away and blending together until the only thing he felt was Twilight’s presence. The heavy scent and warmth of her fur, the rhythmic pounding of her heartbeat, the subtle motion when she took a breath, and a feeling as if this very display of nondiscriminatory care was tangible in and of itself.

In that moment, he felt it. A connection; a sort of stirring in the fiber of his being, and he focused on it to the exclusion of all else. It was a feeling that defied description -- bypassing all sensation. It was like nothing he had ever experienced before, but at the same time, it was so much more than anything he had. The closest thing Connor could have possibly compared it to would be the “feeling” of a crisp, clear bell chime, resonating at the core of his soul.

Whatever it was, it helped bring about some measure of tranquility to the broken human, and in time, the tears stopped, his ragged breathing slowed, and eventually, Connor managed to fall into blissful unconsciousness.

Twilight Sparkle waited for a long while. Minutes? Hours? Exactly how long, she wasn’t quite sure. It didn’t matter, though, as long as she stayed where she was for whatever length of time was necessary.

It was when she opened her eyes after an indeterminate amount of time to take stock of the situation that she noticed her friend lay slack in her hooves, his arms draped around her but no longer tense, and his breathing had reclaimed some semblance of normalcy. He’d finally fallen asleep.

Taking great care, she removed her leg from around Connor’s shoulders, and gently encased the front of his body in an aura of magic in order to ease him back onto the bed without disturbing him. Then, as gingerly as she could manage, Twilight silently moved off the side of the bed and onto the floor, again using her horn to levitate the bed sheet up and over the unconscious teenager. Looking a far sight better than he had before, Connor almost looked... peaceful. As if he was merely resting. If it wasn’t for the bone-white object poking out past his brown hair, it might have seemed like nothing was wrong at all.

Not making a sound, Twilight walked to the edge of the stairs, sparing one last forlorn look over her shoulder. She stared for a moment, before her eyes hardened, and her features were set with an expression of drive and renewed determination. Without a second thought, she turned and cantered down the stairs and across the second floor of the library, pausing only to turn out the light before she left. She waited until she was far enough down the second stairway before speaking again.

“Spike, boil up some water. And break out the strong stuff; it’s gonna be a long night.”