//------------------------------// // Chapter One: Tonight You Sleep in Hell! // Story: The Magic of Immortality // by junebud //------------------------------// Chapter One: The Immortal Twilight Sparkle stared at the massive wound currently caving in the skull of the strange creature lying on the dirt at her hooves.  Blood seeped from the wound and one of its eyeballs had popped out of the socket.  Applejack still hadn’t put her back hoof down.  Blood still dripped from it.  Her green eyes were wide and her mouth worked without making a sound. “I... I... It just...” Applejack stuttered, looking desperately at Twilight, “It just came out of nowhere!” Twilight still couldn’t speak.  She felt her gorge rising in her throat.  She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the...whatever it was.  “D’you think it’s... gonna be okay?”  Applejack’s voice quavered at the end of her question.  It was jarring enough to snap Twilight out of her daze. “No, Applejack.  I don’t think it’s going to be okay.”  She tentatively poked at the still form on the ground with her forehoof.  The limp body didn’t move.   “I thought it was gonna attack ya’!” Twilight shuddered at the memory of the strange looking creature coming stumbling out of the Everfree Forest, a wild look in its tiny piggish eyes.  It looked vaguely like some kind of hairless ape or maybe a particularly runty looking monster.  It had dashed up to them, violence in its bearing, running full-tilt; though how it managed to stay balanced while sprinting was a mystery to her.  If Applejack hadn’t bucked the creature, she would have used her magic.  But neither of them had expected the creature to trip.  Or the hollow, wet pop that Applejack’s connecting kick had made when it connected with the creature’s head. It happened very suddenly.  Twilight had been fine, but suddenly her gorge rose and she lost her breakfast right there on the road to Sweet Apple Acres.  Applejack rushed over to Twilight and put a comforting hoof around the lavender mare’s withers.  “There now, Twi’,” she said, her voice hitching, “it’s gonna be okay... It was an accident.  Coulda’ happened to anypony.”  The orange farmpony shuddered as she comforted her friend.  They both stood there for a long time, trying to compose themselves.  A slight sound caused Applejack’s flattened ears to twitch.  At first, Twilight didn’t notice, but the small noise kept happening and even Twilight stopped her crying long enough to look at Applejack. The two mares looked at each other in mutual horror, “Is it...”  Applejack started. “...still alive?”  Twilight finished. Applejack took a shuddering breath, mentally bracing herself for what she knew she had to do.  “If it’s still alive... Well, it’s in a lot o’ pain.  And it def’nitely cain’t survive long, not with that--that head wound.  I’ll have to put it out of its misery.” Twilight Sparkle gasped in shock, “If it’s still alive, maybe Fluttershy can help it!” Applejack shook her head sternly, her tears still sparkling in her eyes, but unshed.  “No Twi,” she said, her voice resolute, “you saw it.  If it’s still alive, it cain’t survive fer long.  It’d be a mercy to end its pain and Flutters’d agree with me.  You know it.” Twilight stared at her friend for a long moment before dropping her eyes and nodding.  “You’re right.  Of course you’re right.  O-okay.  But make it quick.  It’s suffered enough.” “Girl,” a strange voice said behind them, the consonants marred slightly, “you don’t know the half of it.” ~*.*~ It was much later.  Almost four in the afternoon.  A strange scene was unfolding on the front lawn of Fluttershy’s cottage.  Three pastel-colored pony mares watched a gangly, bizarrely bipedal creature take a seat at the table which had been set out on the lawn.  The creature nodded its head, running a hand through its hair.  Twilight started in surprise when it spoke, “Uh, thanks,” the creature said awkwardly, “that was a really long walk. You don’t know how good it feels to sit down finally.” Applejack was a little wild around the eyes as she stared at the creature.  Its face was black and blue, hugely bruised.  But there was no sign of the massive head trauma that she was certain had killed it mere minutes ago.  The creature sighed, “Clint never mentioned this...” it muttered, seemingly to itself.  “Let’s start slow then.  Hi, my name’s Jeremy.  It’s nice to meet you.  What are your names?” The yellow pegasus mare with a long pink mane and tail stepped forward, a cup of water in her mouth.  She placed it on the table carefully and Jeremy took the cup gratefully.  “I-I’m Fluttershy,” Fluttershy murmured, unable to meet Jeremy’s gaze.  “Um... it’s very nice to meet you!”  She ducked her head, hiding her teal eyes behind her flowing mane. Twilight stepped forward, “My name is Twilight Sparkle... Jeremy.  I’m so sorry about what happened on the road!  We thought you were dead!”  She sniffed at the remembered trauma, “There was so much blood.” “I coulda’ sworn yer head was squashed flatter’n’ a pancake, Jeremy,” Applejack said.  She seemed to remember herself, “Name’s Applejack, by the way,” she tipped the Stetson hat she wore over her blonde mane, “I’m sorry about... Y’know, kickin’ ya.” Jeremy nodded, smiling.  “It certainly did hurt enough.  You’re pretty damn strong, Applejack and no, your eyes weren’t mistaken.  I was definitely mortally wounded.  But that’s not really a concern for me.” Twilight cocked an eyebrow, “What do you mean, ‘not a concern’?  I’m pretty sure that a mortal wound is... y’know... fatal.” Jeremy nodded again, pushing his dark hair out of his eyes again, “Yeah.  That’s normally true.  But there’s one thing you don’t know.” “A-and what’s that?  If you don’t mind me asking, of course,” Fluttershy said demurely. “I’m not mortal.  I can’t die.” The statement hung in the air like a lead balloon.  Twilight shook her head, her mind racing.  Applejack snorted, “Oh c’mon!  Don’t kid a kidder!  You ain’t... I mean, you cain’t be...” “That kick you gave me felt like you popped one of my eyes out.”  Jeremy watched Twilight flinch before he continued, “Yeah, thought so.  It was a really powerful kick.  Too powerful to get up from.”  He spread his arms as if to say, And yet here I am. Applejack struggled to come up with some kind of response, but she couldn’t.  Twilight narrowed her eyes, “You say that like it’s happened before.  The dying thing I mean.” “I have.  It wasn’t any fun.”  Jeremy took a sip of the water Fluttershy had given him.  “You wanna hear about it?” Twilight glanced at her two friends, each of whom returned her look without wavering.  “I think it’s important that we do, Jeremy.” “Fair enough.  I’ve been itching to tell someone since it happened...” ~*.*~  Jeremy grunted with effort as he completed another set of kicks.  The instructor shouted out another set and Jeremy set himself in a deep back stance and began practicing his roundhouse kicks.  Sweat dripped down his forehead and soaked the back of his uniform.  The set finished and the instructor, Mr. Andrews, an aging fifth degree black belt with a paunch and a kick like a mule, called for a water break.  Gratefully, Jeremy wiped his forehead with his sleeve and trotted out of the dojang with the rest of the students.  Alex, his best friend, gave him a playful punch on the shoulder.  “You’re looking a little beat out there, Jeremy!  You goin’ soft?” Jeremy scowled at Alex and answered him, “Got a lot on my mind.  Finals are coming up, and I haven’t really studied as much as I should.  I guess I’m just distracted.” Alex chuckled and said, “Well, don’t let on about that to Mr. Andrews.  He’ll have you doing pushups for the rest of class if he thinks you’re not paying attention.  I’m half tempted to tell him!” “Just wait ‘til we spar, smartass.  You’ll see how focused I am.” “Oooh, I’m shakin’ in my boots!”  Jeremy raised an eyebrow, looking pointedly at Alex’s bare feet.  Alex rolled his eyes sarcastically.                      Further discussion was cut short by Mr. Andrews’ sharp yell for silence and the water break passed quickly.  The rest of the class was uneventful.  Jeremy easily beat Alex in points sparring and free sparring, but this was normal.  Jeremy excelled at sparring while Alex was generally a little too hesitant with his openings.  Jeremy changed into his street clothes and carefully folded his black belt into his gym bag.  His mind was still far away and he wasn’t paying much attention when he felt someone tap him on the shoulder.  It was Mr. Andrews.                      “Jeremy, can you stay for a minute?  I’ve got something I need to discuss with you.”  His gravelly voice sounded somber.                      Oh great, thought Jeremy, he noticed my space-out during class. “Sure, Mr. Andrews.”  He followed the old instructor into the dojang proper, remembering to bow upon entering the training area.                      The rest of the students had already left and the last of the headlights from the parking lot were disappearing down the alley that ran to the parking lot and into town.  Mr. Andrews looked relaxed and serious at the same time.  Jeremy had admired Mr. Andrews for as long as he could remember.  Mr. Andrews’ full name was Michael Andrews, but Jeremy always thought of him with the honorific “Mister.”  Mr. Andrews had opened his Taekwondo dojang ten years ago and Jeremy had started attending when he was fifteen.  He was twenty five now and a third degree black belt, one of the top-ranked students in the class and one of Mr. Andrews’ most senior students.                      “Jeremy,” Mr. Andrews began, “you’re one of my best students.  I’ve rarely seen a young man with more dedication and spirit than you have.  I think you’re ready to test up to your fourth degree.  What do you think?”                      Jeremy felt shocked.  He’d had his third degree black belt for almost two years now, and it was approaching the time when he thought he would be called to test up for his next rank, but hadn’t imagined it would be this early.  He felt his spirits soar, “I’m honored, sir.  If you think I’m ready, then I must be.  When is the test?”                      “At the end of the month, here at the school.  You know the testing requirements.”                      “Yes, sir.  Thank you, sir.”             Mr. Andrews smiled and gave Jeremy a pat on the shoulder, “You’ll do well, Jeremy.  Now get going.”                      Jeremy bowed at the waist, a stiff, formal bow with his hands kept at his sides, then left the dojang.  He sprinted to his car, his fatigue from the workout subsumed by his elation.  As soon as he reached his car--an aging Honda Accord with deep rust spots on its dirty black paint--his elation faded to be replaced by the general low-key stress that always seemed to be present, except during his martial arts classes. He felt his stomach clench and he pulled in a deep breath to calm himself before he opened the door and got into his car.  He sat in his seat for a while, staring into space, before he seemed to come to himself suddenly and he slammed the door and started the car.  He pulled out of the parking lot of the dojang and sped down the alley onto Main Street.                      The drive home from was a long one—forty five minutes.  Jeremy lived out in the country and the roads were straight and narrow with little to no variation in scenery: nothing but corn and soy as far as the eye could see.  This late in the year, most of the crop was harvested and the fields looked as if they had been given a crew cut with their brown stalks all chopped neatly off a foot from the ground.  The drive seemed to last even longer when he was exhausted from a martial arts workout; the scenery had a dangerous way of lulling him almost to the point of hypnosis.  Usually, he could fight off the stultifying effects of the drive home by blasting his radio at top volume, but his radio had given out last week and he had not gotten it fixed yet.  So it was to silence that he began slipping towards waking sleep on the last day of his normal life. ~*.*~                      Jeremy snapped fully awake, suddenly becoming aware of his surroundings.  Directly ahead headlights blinded him.  Too late to do anything, adrenaline sizzling through his veins anyway, Jeremy watched himself jerk the steering wheel to the side and slam his foot on the brake pedal in slow motion as inexorably, the headlights in his windshield drew nearer and nearer.  He felt the impact start in his feet and thrum its way through his calves, up his thighs and vibrate in his chest before he was slammed forward into the steering wheel and all went black. ~*.*~ Jeremy awoke feeling fiery pain all over.  It was hard to breathe.  He was still in his seat, even though he had never fastened his seatbelt.  He tried to shift out of the seat, but something was holding him to the seat.  Blearily, and with a rising sense of panic, he opened his eyes.  Everything was blurry.  The area around him was the pitch black of night.  There was no sign of the other car.  He found he could turn his head, and winced at the sudden sharp pain in his neck and along his face.  Something wet trickled down his cheek.  The windshield was spiderwebbed with a million fractures, and there was a long pole sticking straight out of the driver’s side of the windshield.  Jeremy sat looking at this stupidly until it suddenly dawned on him that this pole was the reason he could not  move.  It had impaled him and gone straight through the seat.                      Jeremy felt dizzy with shock.  Throughout this entire waking nightmare, the mantra I shouldn’t be alive, I shouldn’t be alive kept circling through his consciousness.  He almost blacked out again, but forced himself to stay awake through main force of will.  No wonder I can’t breathe! He thought, I’m pinned to the damn seat!  He felt panic threaten to overwhelm him and once again forced a measure of calm.  He would call for help.  Now, where was his phone?  There, on the passenger seat, miraculously unmoved from where he left it.  He found he could move his arms and reached with his right hand toward the phone.  The pain in his chest pounded into his consciousness until bright spots danced in his vision.  Why aren’t I dead?! His dazed mind wondered for the fiftieth time.  He could not reach the phone.  He tried again, straining against the pole embedded in his chest until he passed out, his right hand still inches away from the phone. ~*.*~ “Jeremy?”  It was Twilight Sparkle.  Jeremy had fallen silent, his eyes taking on a faraway look. He shook his head like someone trying to wake up.  “Sorry.  I drifted off there.  Where was I?” Applejack cleared her throat, “Was that the first time you, uh...” “Died?”  Jeremy chuckled, “Yeah.  It was.  I’ve only done it twice so far.  It’s not very pleasant.  It’s also the last night I was on Earth.” Fluttershy came into the room.  He hadn’t noticed her leave when he started telling them about the car wreck, but Twilight had noticed the pegasus’ rather shocked expression and had softly suggested she brew some tea.  The yellow pegasus had a tray balanced on her back with four teacups.  She gripped the tea kettle in her mouth.  “There you are Fluttershy,” Jeremy said, smiling.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t even notice that you’d left!  Did you want me to go back?” “Eep!”  Fluttershy squeaked, nearly dropping the tea kettle before she quickly placed it onto the table, then using a wing to expertly maneuver the tea tray off her back and onto the table beside the kettle.  “No... that’s okay.  I-I think I can, um, get the general idea... if that’s okay with you.” Jeremy nodded.  He waited to continue his story until Fluttershy had poured them all tea.  When they were all sipping at their tea, he resumed.  “So I had fallen unconscious, trying to reach my phone...” ~*.*~           Jeremy’s eyes flew open at a tugging sensation in his chest that sent pain lancing through him in great fiery waves.  He gasped weakly, blood frothing at the corners of his mouth as he tried to figure out what had happened.  His brutal return to reality had left him confused.  It made no sense.  He was still alive, for one.  Jeremy was pretty sure that a three inch pole through the chest was fatal for most people.  Secondly, there was a small woman, maybe five feet tall, standing on the hood of his car.  She had the pole in her hands and she was tugging on it.  A sucking, wrenching feeling accompanied her efforts and he cried out weakly.  The woman stopped what she was doing briefly to flash a grin that refracted into a million white smiles through the fractured windshield.  The effect was ominous.  She gripped the pole again and tugged hard.                      With sliding, wet popping noise, the pole slid smoothly out of Jeremy’s chest and through the windshield.  The woman stood holding the pole, inspecting it thoughtfully before tossing it to the side and hopping off the crumpled hood of Jeremy’s car.  Jeremy had fallen bonelessly forward, his cheek pressing against the steering wheel, causing the horn to blare thinly into the chilly night air.  He was too weak to move.  He felt the warm rush of blood from the gaping hole in his chest drench his legs and he fell tumbling back into unconsciousness.   ~*.*~                      Jeremy awoke with a start.  The pain in his chest had turned from a dull burning ache to a raging inferno of agony.  He bolted upright, his eyes flying open in terrified agony as he shrieked into cold night air.  A silky voice said from nearby, “Ah, you’re awake.”                      Jeremy digested that information for a minute.  It held several layers of meaning.  He was no longer in his wrecked car, he had not died.  The person the voice belonged to expected him to awaken from the injury.  “What the hell happened?”  He tried to say.  It came out as a whispery gurgle.  He glanced down at his chest and found the hole from the pole still gleaming wetly in the starlight.  He touched the ragged edges of the wound with his fingers and felt the slimy consistency of congealing blood.                      He felt dizziness swim through his head again and thought he would faint, but the woman who had spoken to him earlier leaned close to him and slapped him hard across the face.  Even through all the other injuries, her slap stung enough to bring him back.  “You’re not going to die,” she said this calmly, as if there were no doubt in her mind.                      Jeremy felt like laughing.  The hole in his chest was oozing blood still and he couldn’t seem to get a breath.  He felt an ominous bubbling sensation in his lungs and all he could taste was blood.  There was no way he would be alive for much longer.  It was a miracle he was alive now!  The woman stared at him with a furious concentration that Jeremy found disconcerting.  Her eyes were black pools of shadow, set deep within their sockets.  Her face had a delicate look although the night shadows gave it an ominous cast.  Her hair was short, but not boyishly so.  She might or might not be attractive, he couldn’t really tell.                      “You’re not going to die,” she repeated, “you can’t die.”  She suddenly stood and began pacing, her words fading into a language Jeremy did not recognize.  “You,” she said suddenly, turning back to him and pointing an imperious finger, “stop sulking and get up!  You’re not going to die and the pain will fade.”                      Jeremy just looked at her incredulously.  Not going to die?  Get up?!  The woman was obviously insane!  He could feel his life leaking out of his body as the quiet seconds ticked by.  And yet, his body kept on living.  Despite enormous trauma, a massive injury, and shock, his body was still alive enough to keep him in agony.  He grunted a laugh.  Blood bubbles foamed at the corners of his mouth as he whispered to the woman, “Go to hell.  Just leave me alone.”                      She seemed to smile a grim smile, “Finally, some spirit!  Sorry, Jeremy, can’t go to Hell any more than you can.  And you’re coming with me.”  She stooped and draped one of his arms over her shoulders, then stood easily.  She was enormously strong.  The woman did not seem to expend any effort when she lifted him and moved easily.  Jeremy took the opportunity to study his surroundings, even though he dimly thought the exercise to be futile with death minutes or perhaps even seconds away.  He did it anyway. The woman was carrying him through a wooded area that must not be far from the road.  He heard the roar of a semi’s passage as they moved.  She was taking him away from the road, away from his car and everything that meant anything to him.  He could not summon enough energy to protest or even to care.  It was taxing reserves of energy he didn’t even know he possessed just to keep his eyes open.  The hole in his chest throbbed mercilessly.  He felt the sickening sensation of the wind play over his exposed innards and if he could have vomited, he would.  It seemed, however, that the pole which had impaled him had also severed the muscles that controlled vomiting.                      As the woman carried him and the seconds stretched to minutes and Jeremy continued to live, he began to wonder if she was somehow telling him the truth.  Though he hurt abominably, and death would have been preferable, he did not seem any closer to that final release than he had been before he was injured.  Blood had stopped pumping from the wound, as if he had none left in his body, he could barely take one breath every minute or so, yet he felt no discomfort or shortage of breath, beyond the discomfort of being perforated with a three inch hole.  This is what it feels like to die, he thought dreamily.  The girl’s wrong...                      This last thought tantalized him as the woman dragged him through the thick brush.  Sharp sticks snagged at his skin and the air was cold enough to make the woman’s breath fog around her head, but he was numb to all these things.  The pain of the wound still raged through him and occupied most of his attention.  It all felt very dreamlike, even the pain had a surreal quality to it.  Nothing felt real; certainly not the hole in his chest, which should have killed him, but nor did the woman who half carried, half dragged him through the thinning woods. Jeremy’s mind retreated from the thoughts and the pain by detaching itself from his body and wandering without direction in the same sort of self-hypnotic manner he had awakened from to belatedly realize his peril when he was driving.                      Presently, the woods thinned completely and the woman and Jeremy emerged into a wide, flat plain of waist-high grass.  Far across the field, a light shone in a window.  Off in the distance, the noise of passing cars filtered through the trees and grass until it sounded like muted, sighing breath.  The freeway was near, but not so near that the headlights of travelling cars could be discerned.  The woman headed in the direction of the light across the field.  Jeremy slipped away from consciousness and the rest of the journey was a blur. ~*.*~                      Jeremy awoke slowly.  His mind was fuzzy from the pains he had suffered the last night, but through his foggy confusion, he was immediately aware that the fiery agony was gone.  He was able to draw breath freely again.  Relief flooded through him.  It was all a dream after all.  Strange, he thought as he stretched out in the bed, it all seemed so real.  The thought stuck in his head as he realized that he was not in his room in his little one-bedroom apartment.  The sheets felt wrong.  Jeremy’s eyes opened slightly to an alien room.  The ceiling had exposed rafters, rough-hewn and shadowed with dim light, like a log cabin.  He turned his head and his eyes met walls of wooden planks, artfully cut to fit together like pieces of a puzzle, with no crack or chink to let in the outside air.  A single painting hung on the wall: a watercolor print of a sailboat on a calm sea or lake.  It looked amateurly done, but had a simple beauty that captured his attention for uncounted seconds.  After a while, Jeremy sat up.                      The room was furnished simply.  A single window looked out into a field of brown grass and what must have been the front of the house, a log cabin set in the middle of nowhere.  Weak sunshine filtered through the window as if it were early morning or overcast.  There was a low end table next to the bed with a small, squat lamp.  The only other furnishings were an uncomfortable looking wooden chair next to the door and a simple chest of drawers standing against one wall.  Where am I? Jeremy thought, an edge of panic creeping into his consciousness.                      He flung the covers off of him and found that he was naked, though unwashed.  Dark reddish brown dust or dirt covered his skin and stained the bed covers.  He looked at it, confused, until he realized what it was: dried blood.  He felt his chest wonderingly.  It was whole, though if he prodded the place where the pole had punctured him, it throbbed a little with a dim echo of the agony that had overwhelmed him last night.  Jeremy glanced around the room for his clothes, but didn’t see them.  He got out of the bed and looked into the chest of drawers.  All of the drawers but one were empty.  In that drawer, he found a faded pair of jeans which were too big around the waist and too short in the leg and a plaid shirt that was simply too big.  He put the clothes on anyway and walked to the door.                      The door opened into a hallway that was rather short and had only one other door in it which was closed.  The hallway led to a small living area and Jeremy could make out the corner of a worn burgundy couch.  He heard the sound of a television coming from there and smelled eggs and bacon frying.  He walked as quietly as he could on his bare feet to the living room.  He stood in the opening of the hallway, staring out into the livingroom and the small, open kitchenette where an older man was cooking the eggs and bacon he had smelled with his back to Jeremy.  Sitting on the couch was the woman who had pulled him out of his car and dragged him through the woods.  She was watching a tiny television sitting on a ramshackle old TV stand.  It sounded like a game show, something like The Price Is Right.                      The woman was youngish, maybe in her late twenties to early thirties with dark red hair, the kind that looked dyed, but wasn’t.  Her face was round and her eyes were a flat shade of brown.  Her mouth was small and seemed set in a pout with a full bottom lip and almost no top lip. She was chewing on her bottom lip as she watched the television.  She was either too focused on the TV show to notice Jeremy, or she didn’t care that he was there because she didn’t look up from it.  Jeremy still couldn’t decide if she was attractive or not.  The older man called from the kitchen, “Glad you’re awake.  You can set the table now.”                      Jeremy jumped.  The old man had not turned and Jeremy had thought he had been silent when he walked out of his room.  “Don’t just stand there!” The old man said sharply, “Dishes are in the cabinet, cups and glasses in the one next to it.  Forks and knives in the drawer here.”                      Jeremy moved to obey the old man, studying him as he did so.  The man was extremely ugly.  Jeremy guessed the clothes had to belong to the gray-haired man because the old man had a slight paunch and was about three inches or so shorter than Jeremy, but built more solidly than Jeremy’s stick figure-like frame.  He had a doughy face that seemed unfinished somehow, his mouth was like a ragged gash in a ball of lumpy clay.  His eyes, however, were lively and bright, a complex shade of gray that seemed to dance and flicker through many different colors in the dim light of the kitchen.  His voice was gravelly and deep, almost unpleasant to the ear.                      Jeremy found the plates and flatware easily enough and set them at the small kitchen table.  The table was littered with magazines and newspapers, which he pushed to the side.  He set three places and then sat down at the table, watching the woman who was still entranced by the gameshow on TV.  The old man spoke again as he emptied the eggs and bacon onto another plate and set the food on the table, “Name’s Clint.  That’s Jane.  I imagine you have a slew o’ questions.  But they’ll wait ‘til after breakfast.  C’mon, Jane, turn off that infernal box and come eat!”  Jane obediently rose and turned off the TV and came to sit at the table.                      Jeremy glanced at Clint and Jane as they dug into their breakfasts with mechanical fervor before he gave a mental shrug and ate his food.  He found that he was starving and that the food was delicious.  Never had he tasted eggs so good, or bacon that was as perfect as the thick strips rapidly disappearing in front of him now.  He took great gulps of orange juice from his glass and found that it, too, tasted better than anything he had ever drank before.  Soon, his plate and his glass were empty and he found that he was picking at little crumbs of bacon and eggs with his fork.                      “You’re not insane, you know.”  Clint said, pushing back from the table and resting his hands on his paunch.                      “Huh?” Said Jeremy, and he realized it was the first time he had spoken since he had awakened in the little house.                      “You aren’t crazy.  It might seem so, but you’re not.  You are, in fact, immortal.”  The old man fished a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his front shirt pocket and lit one contemplatively, squinting his bright eyes at Jeremy through the smoke.                      Jeremy pushed himself from the table and stood up, “Right.  Listen, thanks for breakfast and I mean it!  It was delicious, but I’ve got a lot to do and if you’ll just point me to a phone or give me a ride—” Jeremy started, but Jane cut him off.                      “Sorry, you can’t leave right now.  There’s things you have to know before you can make any decisions.  It won’t take all that long.”  She brushed her short red hair behind her ears and crossed her legs under the table.                      Jeremy stared at her incredulously.  “And how the hell are an old man and a woman gonna stop me?  I’m a third degree black belt, and unless you wanna get really hurt, really fast, you better either get me the hell outta here or tell me where a phone is!”  He was breathing heavily, adrenaline pumping through his veins and an edge of panic had crept into his voice so that his last words came out in a breathy whisper.  He felt supremely uncomfortable and it was completely out of character for him to be threatening anyone.                      “Listen, Jeremy,” said Clint, still sitting serenely at the table, reclining with his hands over his stomach, “we’re not telling you we’re gonna stop you.  We’re trying to save your hide.  Not your life.  You can’t die, but you can still feel pain.  Unless you’ve already forgotten about last night?”                      Jeremy paused on his way to the door, curiosity momentarily winning over his anger and confusion.  If these people have answers…he thought, then said harshly, “Who are you people?  What the hell are you talking about?”                      Clint smiled and Jane looked bored, her hands idly tapping on the kitchen table.  Clint beckoned Jeremy back to the table, “C’mon, kid.  Have a seat.  You can leave anytime you want to,” he said quickly as Jeremy’s frown deepened and he turned to the door once again, “but this is a bit of a long story.”                      Jeremy slowly walked back to the table and sat down.  “Okay.  You got me.  Now spill it.”                      Clint cleared his throat ostentatiously, then paused, a confused look on his face.  “It’s been awhile since I’ve had to explain this…” He began apologetically, “But I’ll do the best I can.  Let’s see, oh yes.  As far as I know, this isn’t some sort of curse or magic or anything like that, but then again, I can’t say I’m right about that either.  I thought that when I ‘died’ the first time.  Most do.  Anyway, things since then have made me rethink that theory. “You see, the universe is big,” Jeremy opened his mouth to say something, but a murderous look from Jane closed it immediately.  Clint continued without seeming to notice the nonverbal firefight, “Might as well be infinite, even if it isn’t and the fact that there can even be an immortal being is almost proof that it is infinite.  Anyway, you, me, Jane and quite a few others-- though in a larger sense, an infinitesimally small number of others-- are immortal.  There are maybe eight trillion immortals right now.  Could be more, could be less.  All in all, that is less than one quadrillionth of one percent of the population of known intelligences in the universe right now, and that’s a very liberal estimate.                      “You might be wondering what our purpose is?”  Clint chuckled dryly, took a drag on his ragged cigarette and flicked the ashes on the floor before resuming with his raspy voice, “ I don’t rightly know.  We just are.  It’s as if we are the exception  that proves the rule.  We don’t have a special function.  We don’t guard or quest or rule.  Unless we want to, that is.  Like anyone in this universe, immortals simply are; though there are some that have banded together to form like-minded groups.  Like clubs or churches.” Clint paused again and dragged on his cigarette, letting the smoke trickle out of the corner of his mouth slowly.                      Jeremy interrupted, “What, you mean, like really immortal?  Can’t die?”                      Jane smiled wickedly and said, “I was trapped in the core of a star for about two million years before someone happened by and curiosity prompted them to pull me out.”                      Jeremy gaped at her, then tried to play it cool, “Musta got a helluva sun tan.”  Jane’s smile disappeared and she seemed to close in on herself.  Jeremy guessed he hit a nerve there.  One thing bothered him, though, “Oh come on, you’re human!  Even if any of this other crap you’ve fed me is half true, humans didn’t even exist two million years ago!”                      “The universe is a big place, Jeremy,” said Clint gently, stubbing out his cigarette on the table, “and humanity’s homes are many and diverse.  There are more humans in this universe than those here on earth.  In any case, Jane has been through much.”                      “I still can’t believe any of this,” muttered Jeremy, “it’s insane!”                      “Don’t believe us?  You will in two hundred years,” drawled Jane with a grim smile on her lips, “Or maybe you will the next time you get a three inch pole shoved through you and wake up the next morning.  Either way, believe it or not, it’s true.”  She got up and paced the small kitchen restlessly before she turned to Clint and said truculently, “Well, old man?  Why not show him?”                      Clint sighed and looked at Jeremy who was watching them with a suspicion that was giving way to mild alarm.  “All right, Jane.  I guess shock treatment is the best way.”                      Jeremy stood up suddenly and backed away from the two, “No way, you two!  I saw Highlander! You’re not gonna stick me with some sword or something… Even if I somehow don’t die, it’ll hurt a lot!”                      Jane rolled her eyes with exasperation and said sharply, “We’re not gonna hurt you!  Calm down, Jeremy!  We’re not the Brotherhood, here, we’re Observers!”  This didn’t seem to offer the amount of comfort that she was going for, but it did derail Jeremy’s panic for a moment.                      Jeremy paused and blinked before he asked, “Who is the Brotherhood?  What’s an Observer?  Is that one of the clubs you were talking about, Clint?”                      Clint nodded, “Jane is referring to two of several groups of immortals.  If you would calm down a second and come with me,” Clint stood up and brushed crumbs from his wrinkled flannel shirt, “you’ll find out what I’m talking about.  It’s quite shocking for a first timer.  I remember, it shocked me.”                      Jeremy’s eyes darted from side to side and he licked his lips nervously before he said softly, “Fuck it.  All right.  Just, uh, no swords, okay?  Even if I am immortal,” Jane rolled her eyes again at the word ‘if’, “Even if I’m immortal, that pole fucking hurt and I don’t really want a repeat of the experience.”                      “Try being stuck in a star for a couple millennia,” murmured Jane, “then you can tell me about pain!”                      “She’s a little sensitive,” said Clint, “but she’ll get over it.  Now, follow me.” ~*.*~ “So what happened next?”  Applejack asked.  The sun was going down now and it was getting difficult to see each other clearly in the fading light.   Jeremy stood, stretching out and rolling his shoulders.  He really is tall, Twilight Sparkle thought, at least two ponies high... And that strange hair of his.  Only on the top of his head.  Maybe that’s why he wears all those clothes.  No fur for insulation.  “I’ll be glad to continue this, Applejack,”  Jeremy said, “but it’s getting dark and I’m getting pretty hungry.  It’s been a rough day.  Do you happen to have anything you can spare to eat?  The food I packed was ruined in my run through the woods.” Fluttershy, mortified, flapped her wings and launched herself into the air, apologizing as she zipped into her house, “Oh I’m so sorry!”  She said, “I’ve been  a terrible host!  Please, come in!” They followed the pegasus into the house.  She was hurriedly putting  a green salad together, throwing a variety of leaves and grasses into a large bowl.  “It’ll just be a moment!”  She called to them as they settled into the large comfortable couches in her living room. “Do you need any help?”  Twilight asked. “No, no... Don’t worry, I’ve got it!”  Fluttershy assured her. Applejack was looking rather intently at Jeremy.  “What?”  He asked, “Do I have something on my face?” Applejack shook her head, “No, it ain’t that,” she said.  “It’s just that I haven’t seen anythin’ as confounded strange as you!  I mean, you kinda look like a dragon.  But not really.  It’s so... odd.” Jeremy chuckled.  “I guess I do look a little strange from your perspective.  It’s a little like me seeing talking pastel ponies.  It’s a bit jarring.” “What, you mean ponies where you’re from don’t talk?”  Twilight asked eagerly. Jeremy shook his head.  “No... As far as I know, people are the only ones who can talk.  At least, I’ve never heard of a pony talking.  It would’ve made pretty big news if they did.” “But you do have ponies where you’re from,”  Applejack stated. “Yeah, there are ponies.” “Good,” said Applejack, “I didn’t know what I woulda’ thought about you comin’ from a world with no ponies!” “I guess it’d be a pretty empty world with no ponies,” Jeremy conceded, smiling. “What are you?”  Twilight blurted out. Jeremy chuckled, “I was wondering if you’d ask me that.  I’m a man.  Human.  Homo sapiens, if you’re being scientifically correct I suppose.” “What do you mean?”  Twilight itched to have a pen and quill.  She had to settle with a burnt stick and a doily from a coffee table, but desperate times called for desperate measures. “I mean, that's what our scientists have classified humanity as. The words Homo sapiens mean ‘wise man’ in Latin.”  He was interrupted as Fluttershy called to them from the kitchen, letting them know that dinner was ready.  “Let’s continue this after we eat,” he said to general consent.