//------------------------------// // 9 - A trade for my sins // Story: The Memoirs Of A Reality Jumper // by Techogre //------------------------------// ... I was flying. Wings on my back, steadily flapping, each flap taking as long as a breath. Thump. Thump. Thump. As natural as breathing. The warm air was playing over my face and body. Smells of hay, flowers, and green things. Below, rolling hills as far as the eye could see. The sky was a perfect cyan blue, and a rainbow was in the distance—a perfect spring day. I could see my house down there. My family was in the yard, waving at me. I only had to swoop down, and I would join them forever. But the flying was so breathtaking, so wonderful, I just wanted to fly a bit longer. ... The world was black, pain in my side and chest and my head. I could hear distant voices and a few words, but I didn't understand... “...n you hear m...” “...o get a chest tu...” “...lood ty...” “...d that fluoroscope N...” “...e's got no mag...” “...s Luna damned anatom...” ... And I was flying again. Spiralling down, closer to my family. I knew I would be paying for my sins, and I was at peace... ... ... Dry lips. I tried to lick them. My tongue was blocked by... something... ... Perfect cyan sky and stunning rainbows. I could still see my family, and they were getting further away. The wing beats became more ragged, and I had to work harder to fly... ... Harsh antiseptic smell. Mouth, so dry. I can lick my lips now. I feel a straw against my lips—cool, sweet water. A gentle cracking voice whispers, “Not too much, big guy.” I cough, having drunk too much too fast. It hurts so much I cry... ... I'm half awake but don't have the strength to open my eyes. I expect to feel Ann in bed beside me. The sudden pain and the grinding of bone on bone snap me to reality for a few moments. Ribs. I have broken ribs. I now understand why each breath is like a dagger. I taste blood, old blood. How long have I been... I hear a cracking female voice yelling out, “Oh my gosh! He's waking up!” I can't place it. I know I should know it. Is it from some... cartoon? Rainbow Dash? I finally, slowly open my eyes. I see the angular, animated nature of this world. It's all coming back to me. I mutter, “kid... okay?” I feel Dash's hoof on my hand, gently stroking, “Ya, he's just fine.” I could hear the worry turning to joy in her voice. I turned my head. Dash was smiling, relief cascading from her. Her hair was even messier than usual, and the bags under her eyes were visible. I smiled slightly, “Get sleep... you look... terrible...”. I close my eyes and let the darkness embrace me. I was told I had been slipping in and out of consciousness for almost two days. The nurse told me Dash had been at my side the whole time. In the end, I had three broken ribs, a concussion, some lung damage from a puncture and smoke inhalation, and lots of bruising. I found it amusing to be tended by a doctor, a veterinarian, and a potion maker. As soon as I was able to, they were getting me moving, saying it was the best for broken ribs. It hurt like hell, but I gritted my teeth and did it. I had to be in good health for the next trade opportunity. I was a  little embarrassed at the dressing gown. It was designed for a pony, and when it was on me, the opening was at the front. They also had to pin up the back legs, so I didn't trip over them. No one around me seemed to care, but it embarrassed me to no end to have my boys open to public view. Apparently, the usual spells and procedures to promote healing were not as effective on me. The best ones had limited effect. Some of the potions made by Zecora, a lovely lady who always talked in rhymes, also have some effect, but the painkillers seemed to work just fine. The consensus of the doctors, vet, and Zecora was that I would be back to my old self in two or three weeks. Dash was back in my room when I returned from the first physiotherapy session and the kindly poking and prodding of the medical staff. She was yawning, stretching her wings, and looked graceful despite her evident fatigue. Those wings. It amazed me such small wings could lift anything the size of Dash. Magic, I guess. I was helped to the bed and took a few moments to find a comfortable position. Pony hospital beds are made for different body shapes, so it had been left flat. Dash and I chatted about the physiotherapy and how pleased the doctors were to be able to get some basic medical information from me directly. One commented on how much more complex my body was compared to ponies, but that they couldn't find my left or right starswirls. I had jokingly asked the doctor if I could still play the piano without them, and his reaction was a little... weird. He blinked, then looked at my hands and said, in all seriousness, he said that I could as long as my fingers still worked without them. I figured it was just one of those cultural misunderstandings and let it drop. We both got quiet, one of those natural lulls in a conversation. Dash broke the silence, softly asking, “Why Alex? Why did you do it?” I was taking a deep, slow breath and about to answer, and she interrupted me, a bit of anger in her voice, “And don't give me that 'daddy instinct' pile of horsefeathers. You know you can easily get hurt, maybe even killed. I mean, what kind of lunatic would run into a burning house? And Twilight told me the firefighters were in sight by the time you ran in, and they could have saved the kid in ten seconds flat with their equipment.” She sighed and held my hand between her hooves. She continued quietly, “I want to know the real reason.” I turned my head away and scowled. I was in a good place, just the right amount of self-loathing, just enough to remind me of... things. Why did she want to wreck that? It made me angry that she wanted to upset the apple cart. I turned to face her, still scowling, and with a hint of anger in my voice, “Fine, you want to know? You want to know why I don't give a damn if I live or die some days?” I glared at her for a few moments, “Fine. Get me my knife and close the door.” I wanted a little privacy for this. She closed the room door, then went to the little cubby and took the knife in her mouth. With a worried expression, she reluctantly passed me the blade, which formed around my hand. Dash was taken aback at the flowing, liquid movement of the metal. For a fleeting moment, I thought how easy it would be to slash my wrist or plunge it into my heart. But, I had promised myself it would be a fair trade or until I could hold Ann in my arms, and not a second sooner. My expression hardened when my mind returned to the day I got my blade. I sure didn't want to share something this intimate, but with luck, it would get her off my back. If I was really lucky, it would drive her away so I couldn't hurt her. It would be for the best. I slowly took a deep, painful breath, just like the therapist had taught me to do. I slowly played with the dull knife as I told my grim tale. “I got this about twenty-five years ago. It's an Imperial Pattern One Two Seven Nine Combat Knife with Mental Controls and Polymorphic Enhancement. Top of the line, changes shape based on mental commands. I usually leave it in non-combat mode, a dull blade. It was high-end but fairly common.” “It was given to me by the wizard Zathrok. He gave it to me so I could get the gem of Balzoon, which he claimed could be used to transport me home.” I smiled slightly, “I was with Shedinath, dragonborn paladin of Bahamut, and Hayi Crystalsmiter, dwarven lock and trap expert. We dodged traps, avoided guards, and risked everything.” I paused momentarily, lost in thought, “In the end, we got that thrice-damned gem. But I was an idiot for believing Zathrok intended to send me home. Heh, I doubt he was even able to do it.” My eyes flitted on Dash's wings and back for a moment, carefully avoiding her face and intimate areas. I took another deep, slow breath. “My greatest sin is taking a life to get that God damned gem.” I heard a gasp but didn't look. “I had smashed skeletons and bashed zombies, but they were already dead. I was smashing machines made from flesh and bone. This was different.” Dash was quiet. I couldn't make myself look at her, and as much as I wanted to drive all these good, kind ponies way from the likes of me, I was afraid of actually seeing that look of disgust—another slow, painful breath. I was quiet for a moment, drawing on those black memories. “To avoid a patrol of skeleton warriors, we were sneaking through a small side passage. It was hidden behind a secret door that had not been used in years. The passage was narrow, so we could only move single file. I was at the front of the group with my knife ready.” “We got to the end, and a small grate was set in a small door. I peeked outside and saw the gem on a pedestal on top of a small dais. The room was small, maybe 5 meters square. It was quiet, except for the sound of breathing. I slightly changed my angle of view and caught sight of the guard. He was beside the door, on the opposite side of the hinges. That meant I could jump out quickly and knock him out. That was my plan.” “I readied myself. I quietly unhinged the lock, which was mercifully silent, and readied myself. I kicked the door as hard as I could, and it swung out with ease. I jumped, put my hand over the guard's mouth, and punched him in the head. I wanted to make a clean knockout punch. But things didn't go according to plan. He wasn't knocked out. He struggled, reaching for a leaver.” “I panicked. I knew if he reached that leaver, we were all dead. I turned the blade and cut his throat just like that. The green blood covered my hands. All I could smell was a coppery, salty odour of orc blood. He gurgled and went limp.” I took a long, ragged, painful breath. “No one ever tells you about the piss and shit. When you die, you lose control of your body and release your bladder and bowels. As he sprawled on top of me, all I could smell was the blood and piss and shit.” My voice started to crack, emotion pouring through. “They laughed at me, telling me it was only an orc. I had killed it, and now I took its stuff. That's how the game is played, they said.” Tears were starting to flow. “I was still in shock, numb, so I emptied the coin purse. I found money, of course, just a few gold coins.” I suddenly started to breathe faster, harder. The pain in my side was blinding, “B... But I also f... found a piece of paper. Oh, God! There was a drawing... “ I started weeping, tears dripping down my cheeks. “It was a figure, with a smaller figure holding its hand.” I sobbed. “He was a father!”, I wailed softly. “I killed a father! I took away a child's dad!” I turned my head away from Dash, “All for a few damn coins and a useless rock!” I felt her nuzzling me. She hoarsely whispered, “You didn't mean to kill. It was an accident. You're not like that.” I weakly pushed her away. I was getting drained. “Dash, you don't understand. I went out of my way to do it. He was in my way, and I cut his throat. His blood was on my hands. It still stains them. That's why I call myself a monster! That's why I want to make a fair trade! That's why I don't deserve to live in this happy place. That's why I don't deserve friends like you. I'm a stain on all that's good. That's why I keep the damn knife. To remind myself. So I never forget.” I weakly tossed the dull blade away, and it clattered on the floor. I slowly turned my head away in shame. Shame at the tears, shame at being forgiven so easily, shame at what I had done, shame at being too weak to take my own worthless life. I felt a warm, wet muzzle on my neck, her hair tickling my chin. I could feel her crying. She gently put her hoof on my chest. Between my own sobs, I whispered, “This is the first time I've told anyone. I've kept this inside for so long. I haven't even told Ann.” I put my hand on her hoof, “I'm so sorry to do this to you. You just met me, and here I am, sharing my deepest darkest secrets.” I turned my head away. I just want to stop feeling. She moved away from me, sniffed loudly, and then thumped my chest, “You big idiot!” She thumped me again, “Look at me, gosh darn it!” I turned my head, unsure, afraid of what I would see. She stood beside me, one hoof on the edge of the bed. I could see the wet fur on her cheeks—defiance and anger in her narrowed eyes. “Twice you put yourself in danger for people you didn't know. First, you look out for Scoots without knowing how Coins would react! And then you pull a bonehead stunt like running into a burning building? Now...” She squeezes her eyes tightly, tears leaking through, then resumes her glare, “Now you tell me you have some crazy death wish because of something you did twenty-five years ago? And now you expect me to walk away because I've only known you for a week? How many times do I have to tell you? I'm the apple-bucking Element of Loyalty!” The anger was gone from her eyes. Only compassion and—something—was left, “You will never get rid of me.” I could only look at her with sadness and confusion. I didn't know what to think. I put my hand out and took her hoof. It was warm and soft. I gently rubbed my thumb along the hard front of the toe. I looked her in the eyes, then looked back at her hoof. “I... I don't know what to say.” She pulled her hoof slightly. I looked up to see her smile, and it felt like a perfect spring day.