//------------------------------// // An Awkward Breakfast For Two // Story: Perhaps Death // by WritingSpirit //------------------------------// 5332 AC, First Winter, 14, 06:11:54 "GET HIM!!" "HE'S GETTING AWAY!!" Hey there! Bad time to pop back in, bad time! You can't believe the sheer number of Sontarans are in pursuit right behind my back, firing their cheesy guns around me. Look at that, those lasers! Flying around in lovely, little colors! That's what you get, kids, when you have a gun and you don't bother to aim. Whoop-dee-doo for me. "Better luck next time, mates!" I hollered with a salute, finally leaping through a door. A mechanical door, to be accurate. With a small whir of my sonic, there it goes, slamming shut right in the face of my pursuers before could get me! You could've been there, hearing their irritated, if not vulgar, swearing while pounding and banging incessantly on the door. Just goes to show the Doctor had emerged triumphant once again. Now, you might be wondering what in Celestia's plushy collection am I talking about. The year was 5332. The world you and I know as Equestria has since been desecrated about two thousand years ago, leaving a wasteland occupied by other sentient beings aside from ponykind. Yes, I'm talking about those beings hovering in their crafts and zapping crop circles on wheat fields for no particular reason whatsoever. What? You'll do anything when you're bored out of your twitty minds, don't you? Might just be me, however. I was helping out the staff of a steelworks factory on some technicalities regarding an engine malfunction involving steam, coal, Alzarian motor cores and the like. You know, stuff you probably learned in school. It seems, for some reason, the ventilation was covered in some sort of webbing of alien substance, the result of which overheated the machine. A little digging (literally) and sure enough, I've stumbled upon a Sontaran hydro rig secretly draining water out of the planet. Imagine my horror when I found that! Dehydrating a planet would completely destroy the ecosystem of Equestria as we know it! End of the world scenario, right there! All you need for it to happen is to watch it. Not if I can help it, of course. As of now, I believe I'm in the factory's engine room, for there shall be no other Equestrian rooms in this day of age that would possess such crude technology, what with the valves and pipes and all. The steam just hisses menacingly in my ears like snakes, complaining about how irresponsible the maintenance crew were. Well, I don't actually speak steam, at least not fluently, but you guys know what I mean. "Let's see here..." I quietly muttered to myself, scanning the room. To be honest, there isn't much to make out from all these switches and buttons. Pressing one from another would mean the difference between going on the right tracks and taking a rollercoaster down the end of the world. No amount of luck would help you later. A sensible pony like you and me would know what to do then, right? Without a second thought, I flipped the switch. According to the faded sign right below it, it should be the drainage system. At least, from the sound within every shaking pipe, it sounds like it. Think of a flushing toilet and amplify the noise by about eight point six five two three two times. That was exactly what I was hearing now, along with the hooting of the panicking Sontarans. "Hah!" I yelled at the door. "Beat that, potheads!" In the end, I was out of there lickity split! Just a few tad bruises here and there, nothing major to worry about. Engineers ask me about what happened, I just mentioned it as a leak. A very big leak, in fact. Certainly, they'll find out about the rig, though considering its abysmal state, I doubt it will be soon. Oh, I could only imagine her amazement if only Twilight were here to see this... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Huh... Twilight Sparkle . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . It's been a while. Five days? A week? I can't recall... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . She started it... did she? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Yet... does she deserve it? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . "Doctor?" "Yes?" "Somepony's calling for you," one of the engineers said, holding up the device that is my Gallopreyan interstellar commu-A163 device, finally repaired after years of tear and wear. What is it, might you ask? Picture your phone. Now add in a card that will allow you to contact anyone from any era at any location without heeding the laws of the space-time continuum. Technology at its best. "Would you happen to know a Miss Star?" Miss Star? Miss Star, Miss Star... now, I know a lot of 'Miss Star's in my lifetime. Some of them can be pretty... uh... overdoing it with the word 'Star' in their names. Typical Canterlotian behavior, if I do say so myself. "What's her given name?" I asked. "Amethyst." "Doesn't ring a bell. Amethyst Star, you say?" The pony just nodded. Strange... I've known this engineer for about twenty minutes or so and I trust him long enough to know he isn't the type to fib, especially on delicate matters such as this. Oh, phone calls from random strangers can be a delicate matter indeed, especially in my line of work. "I'll track the signal later," I said my thoughts aloud, scampering back to the TARDIS. "Tally-ho, my friends! Oh, and be sure to tinker with the pipelines. Things can be a little... how shall I put it... hissy down there. One rusted screw might pop the whole lot!" "Got that! Thanks again, Doctor!" Pride welled up my grin as I stumbled back into my trusty ship, yet however invigorating it may be, there was still that same emptiness in my heart. My happiness is shallow, my smile waning. All I could think of doing was to stare up at space when I flick the right switches, returning from whence I came. Is this how ponykind feel? When their days are a pool of gloom and their nights more abysmal than a moonless sky? When their emotions grow staler than cold bread and their silence sullen as a flower all wilted and dry? Queer, these regrets of mine, stemmed from the absence of my companion... "Twilight..." . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . That does it. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . This can't go on anymore. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . I need to see her... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . I need to see her now! . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1005 AC, Third Summer, 15, 07:52:11 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . "...and remember to read up for your Dad's constellations! He's counting on you, Twilight!" "Alright, Mom! Bye!" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . "Oh... Turner... I... it's been a while." "Yes... pretty much..." "I thought you said... well--" "Can I join you for breakfast?" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . "What?" "Breakfast. With you, if you don't mind." "Oh, not at all, really! It's been a long time we ate together and... I'm sure you can tell me about your many adventures in your... TARDIS... without me and all..." "Nothing of that sort. I'm just up for a chat, that's all. Petite conversation, no otherworldly adventures and such." "Chat? As in... you wanna talk?" "Yes, if that's possible. Is it?" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . "Is it possible?" "Hmm? Oh, I uh..." . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . "I... I don't mind..." . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1005 AC, Third Summer, 15, 08:19:17 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . What am I to do...? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Sure, I could save thousands of planets from their imminent apocalypses, but I couldn't let out a single word in front of Twilight Sparkle... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . I swear, Turner, you really need to... what they call it? Get your head in the game? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . "What?" "Pardon? Am I speaking m-my thoughts aloud? Blimey!" I stuttered, nearly stumbling off my chair. "Sorry! Have to get used to shut my yapping mouth again. Sweet Celestia..." Not amused about that, eh Twilight? With a sigh, I continue sawing down my scrumptious stack of pancakes, glancing around Daisy's to distract myself from the guest I've personally invited. I know what you're thinking, but manners and image are two very different and difficult topics to handle. It was a very silent breakfast; the quietest meal we've ever had together, I'd say. She doesn't seem to be enjoying it a tad bit in my presence. The bloody hell I don't, if I have my say about it. I wanted to settle the complications we had about each other, especially the erm... argument, per say. After all, perhaps it might be a misunderstanding. Yes, I was stomping off, but I heard every word she said. Kept it in the castle of my mind, drawbridge closed and moat full, no escaping at all. Two cup of tea later, no words were exchanged still. To be frank, there was one slice of pancake left on my dish. One more munch and our breakfast and subsequent, if ever occurring, conversation would've reached a premature and unsatisfactory end. No apologies accepted. "You fellas done yet?" came the familiar voice of Joe. Donut Joe, to be precise. You might know him as the prestigious owner of a donut and coffee shop in the near future, replacing Daisy's with his delectable, sweet-tooth creations. For now, he's just the waiter, fetching our orders and catching falling coffee cups, unaware of the bright destiny ahead of him. "Just a moment, Joe," I replied. The stallion just gave a glance at both of us, before leaving heftily, tray in hoof. I won't blame him, considering our involuntary impediment in the family business, but no matter how many restaurants we'll close down, I want the complications between the both of us settled. Don't know about her end, however. "Are you done yet?" "Pardon?" I asked. "Done with what? My breakfast?" "Procrastinating! You said you wanted to bring me out to talk, so talk then!" I kept quiet. A sigh would've sufficed at least, but I kept quiet. Not because for some sort of sadistic pleasure watching my companion in her mental outrage as she pull her mane out, no; it's more of the cause of fear, charbroiling in my lungs like medium-rare carrots in a stew. The dog's bollocks, gobsmacked carrots in a stew... "You know, I don't know what I'm doing here," she exclaimed spitefully, tossing the napkin aside as she just stood up, nearly tipping over her salad and cup of tea before stomping towards the door. With a groan at myself, I stumbled out of our seat, following her like the many pairs of eyes watching our drama. Twilight stopped only to turn around, frowning while she held the door with her magic as she glared back at me. "Next time, just leave me alone." "Twilight! Just... wait a second!" Onward she marched; no glances back, no hesitation, no heeding my pleas. All in all, I was desperately trying to catch up with her, begging her to just listen to what I have to say. There you go, Turner! Ruining it by shutting it, of all things, and you'll lose the mare that has been your one friend and companion since forever! Not literally, but point taken, right? "Twilight!" I yelled, stopping her when we were midway across a park. She turned around and that's when I saw it: those precious purple eyes of her, watering and glittering like a pair of amethysts. Her mouth was shaking, even more so when the first sprig of her tears leaked and dripped onto the pavement. The thorns capsuling my heart were tightening, strangling every vein with each sharp tip jabbing in and out from every thump. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . What have I done...? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . "Twilight..." I began softly. Ruefully. "I... I am sorry..." "Do you know how hard it was?! I thought you never wanted to see me again! I thought you would leave me here forever when I could've... when I could've seen the world! And when you came back you... you didn't even want to talk to me?!" "I don't mean that, Twilight. It was hard to--" "Hard to what?! Is it that hard to talk to me?! What am I to you, Turner?! Am I just another companion that you gave up on and threw away because you got bored or annoyed?! Is this how you see everypony as, Time Lord?!!" "You mean more than a companion, Twilight." She stopped suddenly in still silence, whether dumbfounded or not by my statement, I couldn't tell. Still, I stepped towards her, trying my best not to bite my lip; if I was ever the more uncertain, it would've been when I will hand my TARDIS over to a Dalek or Cyberpony trader. "Back at your house," I said, trying not to stutter. "When... when you mentioned about that stallion... you just can't stop talking about him. Like he's some sort of hero out to save Equestria or something, yet the way he said you were hard to deal with... I just can't accept somepony you idolize saying it just like that." "You... you were concerned?" "Apparently so, yes." "B-but... but you... why?" This is it. That single question that could probably result in the confession of my long, well-kept secret; that single question that teeters on the balance between a bond of shared emotions, an awkward friendship or a crash landing into becoming mortal enemies. Okay, perhaps the last bit can be a tad overboard, but you know what I mean. "You..." I began before stopping abruptly. Was I really going to tell her? Am I about to... how do they say it... chicken out before I could even start? "I... well, this whole time, I... you... the only thing that... uh... well..." "You don't have to tell me, Turner." That sentence could've thrown a manticore off a cliff! Does that mean that she knew what I was going to say? That she had some apparent hint about my feelings for her? I couldn't tell -- Time Lords don't have abilities of that extent yet -- but from the way she was fidgeting about like some antsy anteater's tongue, it's beyond anypony's doubt that she has that knowledge. Celestia, do my emotions leak that much...? "I just want to know what happened to you that day," she firmly stated. "Everything you said... it just doesn't... I don't know, make sense? You kept on saying all these things about him and... it just didn't sit well with me, Turner. You wouldn't say all of that for nothing, right? All I want to know is what is exactly going on." "I was jealous." Blatant answer, yes. Enough to throw a manticore off a cliff as well, yes, but what else could I do? Lie to her? She'll probably cut me off from the rest of her life! Before any of you could go spreading the word to the world as if you're the common cold about what an obvious lie it was, I'll tell you straight that yes, I was jealous. "You kept making him look like he meant the world to you," I sheepishly admitted with reddening cheeks. "Every time you mentioned him... it was like the world just... stopped... and I'm just staring at you and him together, galloping off into the sunset. Whatever he meant to you wasn't returned to me and... it's wrong, but... but I don't want that, Twilight Sparkle." Here comes the embarrassing part... "I wanted you to be amazed by me like he did to you," I continued. "I wanted you to expect me to do great things; to see me climb the highest mountains and cross the wildest seas; to scour through time and space to find someplace that you'll keep in your heart. All I ever wanted was never to travel with you, Twilight Sparkle, but to spend time with you, and when I see that smile on your face one more time, I know you're happy and... and..." "A-And?" "And... it makes me happy too..." . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Well, then... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . She'll surely hate me now. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Funny... the Doctor isn't ever the keen one when it comes to confessions so deep and so... so macabre. No offense to my companion, of course... though perhaps ponies do change for the sake of others... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . What does it matter anyway... I probably might not ever see her again... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . "Tomorrow." My ears twitched at her reply; did I actually hear what I just hear? Yes, it's a single, pointless (not really) word, but such a word can be critical in times so dire as this. Immediately, I glanced up at her somber expression, a tad afraid that she might burst out in tears again or perhaps even smack me across my cheeks. "T-Tomorrow?" I mewled nervously. A nod. Careful yet flustered at the same time. "I need some time to think this over," she explained before glancing away. "If it's alright with you... I just need some time by myself, alright?" "Okay." "Oh!" she added. "By the way... the stallion you're talking about... he's not my... you know..." Confusion struck me like a boxing glove in a wrestling match. What did she mean he's not her lover? Does this mean that the whole time, I've been angry at that stallion for no particular reason at all? Twilight isn't one prone to sick jokes such as this one, so that's absolutely impossible for her to fabricate such a horrifying lie. But if he's not even an admirer of sorts... if they are not together. "Then who is he?" I exclaimed, too curious to bother. "Who could he possibly be?" Twilight managed a giggle -- a first for a long time -- with a single hoof over her mouth hiding it in vain. She daintily, if not teasingly, skipped away, leaving me standing here with my jaw dropping open. The million possibilities I had about the stallion had been shattered like a stone through a window. Even Sherlock would be buggered off by such a mystery... or would he? Considering my rendezvous with him during my espionage days, you can't be so sure the intelligence of somepony like that. Oh, to weasels with my digressing! "Don't you get it, Turner?" she said at her last glance to me of the day, stifling a laugh which, humiliating as it may be, made me snort. "Of course I love him! He's my brother!" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Brother... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Ah... of course... how could I've been so blind... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Oh, Turner... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . After all this time, Turner... after all your flimsy deductions... they've all missed the mark... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . A pat on the back for you, Twilight... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . A pat on the back for you... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .