//------------------------------// // Chapter 6: Anything you can do, I can do Terribly // Story: Wish upon a Supernova // by Hyper Atomic //------------------------------// Anything you can do, I can do Terribly “ … what?” I mumbled, still transfixed on the recently vacated doorway. “Oh, you know what!” Proclaimed the positively peppy pink pony, “That was such a good prank! Did you see the look on her face?” She quickly succumbed to another fit of giggles. “And you weren't even trying! Is pranking your special talent? Oh! We should totally pull off some together! It'll be super duper fun-tastic!” The words tumbled out of the excitable mare at an astounding rate. I pushed my glasses up while covering my face with both hooves, and let out a huge sigh. I really wanted a few minutes to collect myself, but you don't ignore personalities like hers. Not if you value your sanity, anyway. “Hello again, Miss Pie.” I greeted, putting some effort into a smile. My forelegs, hair, and chest were all damp, and I could feel the water creeping deeper into my fur and bandages. “Call me Pinkie!” She bounced like a coiled spring when mentioning her name. “Everypony else does, unless they don't, of course.” I opened my mouth, only to promptly close it again. Unfazed, she continued, “What's your name?” Doesn't she already know my name? Well there was that matter of fainting in front of her before a proper introduction. My cheeks registered that familiar heat. “Maxwell Glass,” I replied, “Sorry, I'm still covered in water and it's a little distracting.” “Oh! I've got just the thing!” Her form became a vibrant blur as it rushed out of sight. My eyes tried to follow her, but she was nowhere to be found. “Pinkie...?” I blinked, hoping the energetic mare hadn't just taken a dive out the window. “Here you go!” Her voice suddenly called out from the other side of the bed. My head whipped around and was met with a faceful of soft pliant fabric. I spit out some errant threads as I pulled away the offered towel. “Where did you-? How are-?” I stammered as several questions all tried to ask themselves at the same time. “Oh, I have towels stashed all over Ponyville, in case of hitchhiking emergencies.” She commented absently, as if making the most obvious statement in the world. The balloons were no longer tied around her and were instead arrayed around the room. My brain, after thoroughly searching the list of appropriate responses for 'Hyperactive pink horse vanishes before returning with absorbent garment' and finding zero results, decides to go with the default. “Thanks.” I began drying myself off, mostly as an excuse to think about anything not-Pinkie right now. My fur covered skin still stung even when I rubbed it lightly, but it was doing remarkably better. Not even sunburns heal this fast. I bit my lower lip. But how can I 'know' that at all? Everything here feels too real to be a delusion. My memories were becoming less 'real' the further into the past they moved, divorced as they were from the constant reassurance of the senses. What if it is all fake, just a persistent dream? What am I left with? “Hey, cheer up Maxie!” Interrupted Pinkie, “You won't be stuck in this boring old hospital forever!” She must have noticed the mounting depression from my looks. I gave her a weak smile, “I'm sure I won't be. My burns seem to be healing just fine.” “Is something wrong with your wings too?” She questioned. Her head was tilted and wearing a concerned almost-frown. “My what?” “Your wings, silly!” She said, making flapping motions with her forelegs. “You've been holding them out straight ever since we surprised the nurse.” I looked back, and sure enough, both dark green appendages stood at attention. I can't believe I keep forgetting about them, no wonder I was feeling so stiff. I started rolling my shoulders, flexing my back, activating every muscle I could think of, but they didn't so much as twitch. I imagine Pinkie must have been quite entertained watching me struggle with all the giggling she was doing, but this was getting me nowhere. I needed a different tactic. I slowly exhaled while keeping my eyes closed. I imagined letting all the metaphorical strings controlling me going limp as they withdrew their agency from my limbs. My body sank slightly further into the bed, but I ignored it. I was waiting for a different feeling, anything out of place. It was then that a faint effervescent tingling began to brush against the edges of my consciousness. I couldn't stop the growing smile, nor the short laugh that escaped. Why does it feel like I'm being … tickled? My vision returned as I swiveled my head to look at my left wing. There was Pinkie, sweeping her own head back and forth using just her mane to tickle the very tips of my feathers. A rippling shudder ran like fuzzy lightning through my unfamiliar limb as it snapped back into a folded position on my side. I blinked, panting slightly while the sensations faded. That feeling didn't come from my back at all, and it was more like my arms from before, only … I focused on the receding tingle, trying to push my consciousness to follow. A small flutter was my reward and I grit my teeth, not about to give up now. My wing started to unfold. It felt like I was slowly putting on a long and tailor made glove, my arm sliding down the sleeve as it filled every inch closer and more intimately than anything I had ever worn. I stared at it- no, I stared at me. I could feel the entirety of my wing such that there was no denying it was a part of me. In the back of my mind I couldn't help feeling slightly unsettled, because it felt right, as if I was supposed to have it. I drew it back from full extension and opened it again, grinning like a madman. “Yay!” Came a happy cheer from the bubbly pink mare, clapping her hooves together in applause. “Now do the other one!” Other one? The smile faded as I turned to my remaining feathered appendage. Oh, right … The second wing was much easier, and with a little more encouragement from the living pink superball I had rudimentary motor control over both equine-avian limbs, enough to open and close them. A stray drip splashed on my muzzle, momentarily startling me until I remembered what I was doing before being distracted. I picked up the towel once more and continued where I left off. “Thank you, again, Pinkie.” I couldn't figure it out, but that mare just exuded happiness, making me feel good by proximity. “I mean, really. How can I thank you enough for finding me when I was injured, getting me to this hospital, retrieving my glasses, making me laugh, and helping me with these?” I shrugged my wings for emphasis. Not to mention keeping me from myself. She giggled, bouncing in place while she spoke, “It's nothing! I'd do that for all my friends!” “Friends?” I looked at her quizzically, “We've only just met, how can we be friends?” “They always say friendships are forever, but time doesn't just go one way, so if you're friends forever then you've always been friends even before you meet them!” Her smile only grew, “And since we're going to be friends eventually, then we're friends now! See?” I sat there stunned for a moment, trying to reboot after following that Möbius strip of logic. A theme seemed to be appearing the more time I spent with her, namely: 'Don't question the pink one.' I sighed, unable to suppress my own smile any longer. “Yes, I'm glad we're friends, and I look forward to becoming them in the future.” Ruffling the last of my hair dry in the towel, I realized I hadn't gotten a real look at myself yet. “Hey, Pinkie, do you know if there's a mirror around here?” “Mirror, mirror...” She tapped her chin with a hoof, “Oh! There should be one in the bathroom.” Her outstretched foreleg indicating the second door in the room. “Perfect, then I'll just … ” My voice faded as my eyes tracked the distance between the bed and the doorway. I glanced down at my left hoof, then over to Pinkie, standing as she was on all fours. Quadruped. Right. Well I've crawled on my hands and knees before so how hard can it be? I undulated my way to the edge of the mattress before looking down off the side. Floor, my old nemesis, we meet again. Pushing forward with my rear legs, I held my front pair down towards the ground. Slowly I slid off until my fore hooves made contact. The sensation was strange, not at all like having palms or fists for support, but at the same time … natural? The continued feeling of shifting bedding made me aware I was still moving. But ... I'm supporting myself from the front and I'm not … oh no … My face blanched. Pinkie My neck craned behind me, turning much farther than I would have ever expected to see the happy go lucky pony with her hooves poised. “No, don't! I've got-” “Hurry up, slowpoke!” She cried, shoving me off the bed. “You've gotta run before you can walk!” I scrambled to keep my front legs underneath me as the rest of my carriage was ejected from the safety of the mattress. “ohshitohshitohshit!” My legs stumbled in every direction, achieving nothing towards stopping me. One crossed hoof and I was falling forwards. The world slowed to a crawl as I saw the floor rising up to greet my face once again. I clenched my teeth and took it on the chin, a fresh blossom of pain shooting down my jaw as I slid across the ground. Thankfully, the wall was there to stop me, giving his own brand of welcome to my formerly unmolested muzzle. “Ouch,” Pinkie cringed, “Maybe walking is supposed to come first.” I ignored her and blinked my eyes clear of stars. There was a slightly copper tang in my mouth that I attempted to swallow away. I pulled my legs underneath me, taking a steadying breath. I wanted nothing more than to stay down and nurse my injured jaw, but something wouldn't let me. I steeled myself and pushed against the floor, raising up inch by inch until I was at my full height. I actually felt rather stable. My nose sniffled, feeling a warm drop pooling at the end of a nostril. I lifted a hoof to wipe it away but I began to lose my balance, and had to quickly return it to the ground. The impact jostled it loose, and I watched the fluid bauble fall leaving a crimson blot on the otherwise unblemished floor. Scratch that, I only felt stable when all four hooves were down. I pulled my forelegs closer together, before raising one a tentative couple inches. Satisfied that I wasn't about to tip over, I repeated this with the other one, much more confident with this spacing. I turned my head around to the bathroom door. I was facing the wrong way now but was slightly closer to my goal. Great, how do I change direction on four legs without falling over? You just do it. No, this isn't a shoe commercial. I mean stop thinking about it, just experiment. I glanced down at my hooves. If coordination comes from repetition, then I guess I better get started. * * * “Why did I ever start?” I lamented, pushing the door open with my still bruised nose. “Hey, you didn't fall too many times!” Pinkie reassured me, “Besides, it really looked like you had the hang of it there for a while.” “That was after I stumbled headfirst into the table! I don't even wanna know how I walked better when I was so dizzy I couldn't even see straight.” I maneuvered into the bathroom in an absurdly robotic gait, each leg only moving when the other three were stable. It was slow, but I'll be damned if I'm going to fall any more today. “Thanks for staying with me. I'll just be a minute.” “Okie dokie lokie!” One carefully balanced push later and the door closed with a soft click. The bathroom was a simple utilitarian job with a sink and a toilet, but it was the square single pane mirror that hung above that sink which caught my eye. A few more jerky steps and I was in position, but I kept my head bowed. I didn't want to see my reflection until I was ready. Two breaths, then three passed as I stayed fixed on the white porcelain. I swallowed back the lump that had been steadily growing. All I wanted to do before was get to the mirror so that I could see myself, and now that I'm here I'm terrified? You're worried that once you see yourself, there's no going back. Was there any? … no I sighed, heart heavy, and lifted my head up to gaze into my reflection.