o----[ Chapter 10: A Date with Destiny ]---------------------------o
"Do I flip it now?" I asked nervously. The doughy pancake in the frying pan before me was releasing a sickly sweet smell that my sensitive changeling nose couldn't decide how to feel about. "I think it's burning."
Spike glanced at it from his position on a high stool. "Just give it a minute." He said, cracking an egg into a bowl filled with flour and assorted pancake mix.
"But it's burning." I nervously shifted. Should I turn the heat down? I glanced at the gas knob, but it was as low as it could go.
"It's not burning." Spike replied, pouring in milk before picking up a whisk. He plunged said whisk into said bowl, stirring gently. Swish, swish, swish.
"It smells like it's burning."
"No it doesn't." Spike assured me, whisking more vigorously. Swish, swish. "I should know. I'm the cook."
"Mmm." I grumbled uncertainly.
"Fine. If you want to flip it that badly, go ahead."
I smiled, victory surging through my veins. Wait. "How do I flip it?" He didn't really expect me to flip it, did he?
"They're pancakes." Spike grunted. "It's not that hard." He shook off the whisk, setting it down on the counter.
"Okay..." Just flip it. I took the frying pan's handle in my mouth, gently bobbing my head. The pancake stubbornly stayed rooted where it was. This wasn't what I had in mind when I offered to help Spike make breakfast. I already was a psychological mess, I didn't need this on top of that. "I don' thin' I c'n do dis." I choked out through the handle in my mouth.
Spike took a deep breath, trying to control his voice. "It's just a pancake, Midnight."
I swallowed as best I could. Just a pancake. Right. I dipped my head low, then jerked it upward, sending the pancake sailing several feet into the air. Muttering obscenities in my head, I took a step back, trying my best to follow the arc the pancake was sailing in. Unfortunately, that was the time that Twilight chose to enter the room.
"Does anypony know what happened to all those reference books I was studying downstairs?"
Instinctively, I turned my head to look at her, consequently changing the position of the frying pan that had previously been in position to catch previously mentioned flying pancake. The pancake passed through empty air, landing on it's doughy side between my feet to display a perfectly browned top.
Shocked, I took a moment to stare dumbly down at before meekly looking up at Spike. To his credit, he was trying to contain his frustration.
"No more." Spike muttered, yanking the still searing frying pan out of my mouth with his heat resistant claws.
I could only give him an apologetic smile in return.
"What's going on here?" Twilight naively asked as she surveyed the room from her position at the door.
"Midnight was helping with breakfast." Spike curtly answered.
"It's safe to say I'm not a cook." I wryly responded, taking up a dust pan in my mouth to scrape half-cooked pancake off the floor.
Twilight smiled. "I'm not either. That's why Spike is my number one assistant." Spike grunted again, though it was clear that Twilight's compliment had brightened his mood. "Anyway, I was working on an essay for Princess Celestia last night, but my reference books I had out are gone."
"Sorry, I didn't know you were still using them." I answered, depositing the pancake in the garbage.
"You put them away?" Twilight asked, receiving a nod in return. "But when? I was up until midnight. Ahem, No pun intended."
I shrugged. "I couldn't sleep, so I put them away when you were done." I didn't notice how Twilight and Spike looked at me as I replaced the dust pan.
"You haven't been getting much sleep at all lately." Twilight ventured tentatively. "Is everything alright?"
"Of course." I lied. I couldn't very well tell her about the changeling, Sapphire Skies, I met last weekend. I glanced discreetly out the window. She said she'd stop by at the library. I had to be ready. She could be here any minute.
Any minute.
Twilight seemed dissatisfied with my answer, sitting at the table beside me. "You know, it isn't healthy to deprive yourself of sleep,"
"You should be one to talk." Spike muttered.
Twilight ignored Spike, continuing. "Or starve yourself."
Horseapples, we were back to this. "I'm fine, really." An irrefutable argument.
It wasn't as if I wanted her to worry. I couldn't help that I couldn't eat solid food without gagging or sleep without something haunting me.
It was all her fault. Sapphire Skies. She had me jumping at shadows, poised to fight or flee at any moment. She would have a surprise when she finally did make her move. I wasn't going to abandon this life, these ponies that actually cared enough about me to worry, without taking her out as well. Then the nightmares would stop.
I realized that Twilight had been talking. "Sorry. Could you repeat that?"
"I told you to go get some sleep." Twilight repeated matter-of-factly.
"I'm fine." I repeated, shaking the sleep out of my eyes.
"I believe you, but you're not going to eat anyway. You might as well go get some sleep while you can. I'll wake you up after breakfast." Twilight pushed me.
"I..." I couldn't think of anything to say, my mind seemingly sensing an impending shut down. I resisted for a moment, stubbornly trying to act like what I percieved to be a normal pony undeserving of a second glance. It was a losing battle, one that I should've known I couldn't handle. A normal pony, afterall, wouldn't be sleep deprived.
"After breakfast." I repeated. Without another word, I made my way to my room, leaving behind a slightly gratified unicorn.
I woke up panting quickly, a scream kindled in my throat. Looking about, the sight of my room was enough to keep me from acting rashly. My heart beat rushed in my ears. Looking at my hooves revealed what I already knew. The clock, at noon, predictably showed Twilight's broken word.
Hugging myself for a moment, I managed to calm my breath. "That's enough sleep." I grumbled softly in my insectoid voice. Crawling off the bed, I turned to the shattered mirror. Though my body was aching for more, at least my few hours of demented sleep had granted me that tiny bit of alertness that made my transformation into Midnight less of a chore.
Reasonably satisfied with my fractured visage, I exited my room to clop down to the main room of the library.
"Morning sleepy head." Twilight's voice greeted me from her work desk which had been piled high with thick volumes and encyclopedias, likely the ones I had put away the night before.
"Afternoon." I kept the irritation out of my voice.
"Feeling better?"
"Marginally." To tell the truth. I peered over her shoulder to see what she was researching.
"Hmm, well somepony stopped in toWAH." Twilight yelled in my ear, recoiling as she caught sight of me, making me jump in fright. Knowing that randomly screaming wasn't something Twilight was prone to do, fear that I had somehow returned to my changeling form rushed to the forefront of my mind.
Four indigo hooves, a cutie mark, and a darker blue, almost black, tail were all accounted for after a quick once-over. "What?" I asked desperately.
Twilight's eyes betrayed no fear, only surprise. She panted, a laugh bubbling up her throat. "Nice bed head. Rarity would have a heart attack."
I let out a sigh of relief, virtually every muscle in my body relaxing. "Oh. Is that all."
She righted herself, studying my mane. "It's really bad. Did Pinkie rub balloons all over your head while you were sleeping?"
She'd have been in for a surprise if she did. "Doubt it. What are you working on?"
"Oh, I'm just looking for something to set Fluttershy's heart at ease." Twilight waved her hoof. That's right. Twilight still had that show next weekend for the delegates from Saddle Arabia. "Somepony asked for you while you were asleep."
My rising mood took a nosedive.
"I told her that you weren't feeling well, so she left you a note." Twilight gestured to the checkout desk where a folded slip of paper contrasted with the rest of the bare desk.
My breath went ragged in my lungs. A glance at Twilight . She had become absorbed in her book once more. If she read the note, she gave no indication, and I didn't peg her as a good actor. Then again, she had played a lead in the Hearth's Warming play, in Canterlot no less. Sure, she was the element of magic and Princess Celestia's student, but I had to figure that one of the biggest Hearth's Warming shows in the country had standards that not just anypony with connections in high places could meet.
Sitting at the desk, I pulled the slip of paper toward myself. Spreading it open, I found a surprisingly short message.
Midnight,
Quills and Sofas, 6:00
Don't be late
I'll be waiting
-Saf
It wasn't quite what I was expecting. Then again, I didn't really know what I was expecting. Threats? Insults? A command to leave?
Certainly I was expecting more than a meeting place, though I suppose that threats, insults, and commands to leave could all be sorted out at the stated location, though not necessarily in that order.
First thing was first. Trying to steady my voice, I probed. "Twilight?"
"Hmm?"
"Is there a place in town called Quills and Sofas?"
"Mmhmm..."
...
"Twilight?"
"Hmm?"
"You want to give me directions?"
She looked up. "Directions? Where?"
I resisted the urge to face hoof. "Quills and Sofas."
"It's just down the street. You pass it every time you go to Sugarcube corner." Twilight blinked. "Why? Are we low on ink?"
"Um... Yeah." I lied.
"Gyah! Midnight!" Spike yelled as he strode into the room. "What happened to your head?"
"I'm trying out a new mane style." I grinned. "Isn't it beautiful?"
"More like nightmarish." He shuddered.
"Maybe you should go brush your mane before somepony sees you." Twilight suggested.
"And get rid of the rat that's made it its home." Spike helpfully added.
.-~*~-.
I considered not going. I was smart enough to know that there was no way that the problem was going to go away by itself, but I could certainly avoid it for as long as possible. I could give myself more time to enjoy whatever life I had made for myself before my inevitable confrontation with Sapphire Skies changed it for better or for worse.
But I wasn't really one for postponing the inevitable, and my date with Saf really was inevitable. Besides that, I wasn't stupid. I could see what the past four days had done to me. I doubted that I even got half of a full night's sleep all at once, and it was only a matter of time before I fudged up something worse than a pancake. Saf's note actually let my paranoia relax for the first time since I met her, and it felt rejuvinating.
I might as well do this while I had some form of sanity.
And that's the line of thought that brought me to the storefront of Quills and Sofas (or, more specifically, a bench across the street from Quills and Sofas). Though try as I might, as the minute hand slowly ticked toward six, I couldn't force myself forward. I found myself regretting how I had left things with Lyra. She was my friend afterall, and I just abandoned her, betrayed, in the street and hadn't spoken to her since.
And Twilight and Spike? What if I had to leave right now? Would they worry about me? I had only known them for two and a half weeks, but I felt like I didn't have a life before them, like I had been born with my pony mother, left her, then skipped forward several months to live with them. The past wasn't so sharp around them. Then, to repay these two individuals who aparantly meant so much to me, I constantly lied to them.
Well, I made up my mind, I'm not leaving without telling them the truth. Even if...
"You comin' in or what?"
It took me a moment to register that somepony was talking to me. I nearly literally jumped out of my skin when I realized that it was another changeling.
The changeling didn't seem to be very interested in me, however. A look that seemed to be a combination of irritation and boredom adorned her chosen face, which seemed to have a sharp quality to it like her snout was made of angles and straight lines. Her coat was burnt orange like a low fire, and her mane was a sharpened black and tied up into a short ponytail. The majority of her upper body was covered in a worn, leather apron fixed around her midsection. She tapped her hoof against the cobblestone impatiently as she waited for my answer.
From her build, I could tell that she was another worker drone like me, and a niggling tickle in the back of my head told me that I should know her. It wasn't really surprising seeing as I was a courier second class. If she was high enough in the ladder in whatever job she had, I had likely delivered a message to her before.
After recovering from the initial shock, my brain managed to process her question. I nodded stiffly.
She grunted. "Well come on then. No use sitting outside." She then turned and walked across the street without giving me a second glance. What she did give me was a good look at her fuex cutie mark; a pair of crossed hammers were emblazoned on her flank, one a stereotypical hammer while the second seemed more specialized, likely meant for metal working.
My mind still try to catch up with recent developments, I wordlessly followed her as she entered Quills and Sofas. She held the door for me only for a second before nearly closing it on my tail, efficiently flipping the OPEN sign over. I couldn't help but visibly swallow as she then began lowering the blinds.
The inside of Quills and Sofas was soon plunged into darkness with the exception of the front desk, on which sat an unattended, burning gas lantern.
"So..." I tested the waters, flinching at how loud my voice seemed in the quiet of the small store. "My name is..."
And that was where I ran aground, unsure of how to introduce myself. Normally, of course, I'd just use my persona's name, but that just seemed silly while talking to another changeling. We both knew that my name wasn't really Midnight.
But Niphi? If I had it my way, I'd never use that name again. Using it again would feel like I was flying against the wind, throwing away everything that I'd become since the wedding, never mind the fact that I had probably gained half a dozen disorders and phobias along the way.
The changeling rolled her grey eyes. "Davenport, show your lazy flank. The newbie's here."
"Charming as ever." Came an irritated stallion's voice.
"I heard that." The orange coated changeling gumbled.
"You were supposed to." The male voice responded. "If you're waiting for an invitation, I'm not going to give you one."
The grim mare turned to me, frown permanently affixed to her face. She tilted her head toward the door behind the counter.
I put an unsteady hoof forward, followed closely behind by the mare. The door led through a storage room full of shelves filled with boxes of paper and quills and other assorted products. On the far side of the room was a metal staircase.
The top of the staircase opened up into what was obviously the living quarters of the building: a small kitchen/dining room combination, and, at first glance, I thought I saw the Doctor sitting at the rickety wooden table. A second look thankfully showed me I was dead wrong.
I really couldn't deal with the Doctor right now.
Instead there was a stallion, a changeling really, that looked very much like the Doctor. He wore a tan coat and a slightly-mussed-up, slicked-back, mud-brown mane. His flank, appropriately enough, had a picture of a quill and a sofa.
Another soldier. I noticed, warily eying him. No... not quite. Infiltrator? I hoped not, though now that I had thought of the possibility, I found it hard to refute. I didn't see many infiltrators in the hive due to the queen keeping them out on jobs or undercover whenever possible, but they were elite soldiers, and three-to-one odds were bad enough without factoring in that the only real combat training I had was a crash course in how to set things on fire and punch somepony in the face.
"This is her?" He asked, directing his question to the changeling behind me. Realizing that I was blocking the entrance to the room, I stepped aside, unwilling to approach the table.
"Yeah." She sauntered over to the table, sitting across from Davenport. "Sapphire will be late. A storm came in from the Everfree, and her team has been dealing with it all afternoon."
"Well don't be a stranger." Davenport grinned at me. "Come and sit down. We won't bite." He cast an unsure glance at the mare across from him. "Well. I won't."
I'm sure that grin was meant to be reassuring, but it really wasn't. Doing as I was told, I sat at the table with both of them, my eyes shifting between the two. By now I was reasonably sure that they, at the very least, weren't going to physically hurt me, but I didn't survive this long without being paranoid.
"I'm Davenport." The stallion continued. "The lovely lady is Miss All-Smith, but everypony calls her Smithy."
"Call me Smithy and I will end you."
"She's kidding." Davenport smiled. "Ever the kidder, Smithy."
Pony names then? "Midnight." I muttered.
"Nice name. It suits the disguise at least." Davenport compliment.
I wasn't really expecting a compliment, but I tried to keep my face as neutral as I could. "Thanks I guess."
"Too stereotypical." All-Smith rolled her eyes. "Could there be a more fantastical name to give yourself?"
"My mother gave me this name." I glared at her.
"Mother?" Her expression remained a disinterested frown to contrast with her intrigued, almost amused tone.
I looked away, unwilling to answer. "What do you guys want from me?"
"Want from you?" All-Smith contained a chortle. "What could we possibly want from you?"
"Smithy, don't be rude." Davenport chided, turning to me. "We just want to make sure you're alright."
"Alright has a pretty loose definition." I pointed out.
"He means we want to make sure you're not going to get us all in hot water." All-Smith eloquently explained.
I opened my mouth, intent on responding, before really realizing that I didn't really know what to say. "Ah... I wouldn't..."
"You say you wouldn't," All-Smith glared at me, changing her expression for the first time since I met her, "but how do we know you're not just stupid enough to get yourself caught? I've got a good deal here, and I will not go back to that damn hive."
I swallowed past a lump in my throat. "I..."
"All-Smith, lay off." Davenport sternly commanded.
"Lay off? Davenport, you've been here the longest. You will lose the most if your cover is blown."
"I..." I tried to choke out.
"That's no excuse to treat anypony like that."
"Well, I'm sorry if you don't care as much about your life as I do about mine."
"How can you say that? You know that I've invested everything I have into this store."
"Oh, you mean bits? I'm sorry, I didn't realize."
A tromping of hooves on metal came from the staircase, drawing all eyes. Soon, the big, blue eyes of Sapphire Skies came into view. "I'm here!" She announced, exasperated. "There was this big storm and it took forever to... am I interrupting something?"
All-Smith threw one last glare at Davenport before her expression returned to her stoic frown. "No. I was just leaving."
"Smithy..." Saf stepped aside as All-Smith stubbornly passed her.
"I'll be here next week. That is if any of us are even left." And then she was down the stairs, the only evidence of her existence the sound of her steps as she eventually made her way to the exit.
"It hardly took her ten minutes to leave." Davenport muttered. "That's got to be a new record."
"Don't be so hard on her. She's just scared. We all are." Saf's voice was mournful.
"She was right." I spoke up, staring at the faux top of the plywood table misty eyed. "In the two weeks I've been here, I've nearly been discovered two or three times. Lyra's suspicious, and it's only a matter of time before Twilight puzzles it out."
"Hey, don't talk like that." Saf touched my shoulder. "You're with friends now."
I couldn't help it. All the tension of the past few days forced a brief sob out of me.
"That's right." I could hear the smile on her lips. "Sometimes it helps to cry."
Tears rushed the corners of my vision, falling down my cheeks as the floodgates opened. I cried for everything. I cried for my nightmares. I cried for my paranoia. I cried for my fears and my concerns and my lies to Twilight and Spike and Lyra. I cried for all the times I was hurt by ponies I thought were my friends when I was a pony but weren't when I was a changeling. I cried for all the changelings who were supposed to be there for me and instead threw me into the fire, and all that time Sapphire Skies stayed by my side with a reassuring hoof rubbing my back.
Eventually I cried myself out. Sniffling and rubbing my eyes with my fetlock, Davenport slid a cup of steaming liquid to me from across the table. "I-I can't eat or drink anything." I said in broken, post-sob speech.
"Tea usually goes down easier than most things." Davenport replied taking a sip from his own cup.
I nodded a thanks, picking up the cup and tentatively swishing around the steaming liquid inside. I could just pretend it was distilled love. I raised the cup to my lips, taking a sip. I winced, expecting to gag on the foreign liquid, though no such thing happened. Instead I enjoyed the sweet, refined taste of tea.
Now, imagine eating nothing but pizza for your entire life. Sure you can mix it up with various toppings, but the pizza itself would get pretty old after awhile right? That's what I felt at that moment. A wave of euphoria swept through my body as I tasted the first thing that wasn't love in my entire life.
"Better?" Saf asked.
I nodded. "Sorry for dumping this on you two."
"Don't feel guilty at all!" Saf insisted. "This is the whole reason we meet every week: to get these things out in the open with ponies that won't judge us."
"Every week?"
"Every Wednesday." Saf nodded. "And you're welcome, too."
"We just have one rule." Davenport interjected. "And that is that we protect each other's identities. If one of us is caught, only one of us will be caught."
"Sounds reasonable." I sniffed, finally getting a bearing on my emotions again.
"Perfect!" Saf clapped her hooves together. "Welcome to Ponyville! We're going to have to work together on teaching you how to eat. Believe me, it might seem gross now, but food is one of the most beautiful products of equine civilization, even if it does mean extra trips to the bathroom." She giggled and I had to smile.
"Your disguise could use a bit of work, too." Davenport noted after a sip from his cup.
My smile turned into an unsure frown. "What do you mean? What's wrong with it?"
"Oh, nothing major, I assure you." Davenport smiled reassuringly. "Just a few minor things with the grain of your fur and the way your mane works around what’s left of your horn."
"I've never made a ponysona before." I admitted, and I hadn't taken time to mess around with it for months until I added my horn just last week.
Davenport nodded. "Most drones didn't before they had to. I must say that your work is pretty good the way it is, though I would've chosen a more diverse color scheme."
"Oh, shove off Davenport. You're still bumming around in the disguise you had before the queen bit the dust." Saf rolled her eyes. "You're just jealous you're not blue like us."
"I have a motto: don't fix what isn't broken." He smiled slyly. "And this devilish exterior is most certainly working."
"Drives all the fillies wild." Saf laughed.
I almost laughed, but I knew I had to kill the mood. "None of you replaced ponies, right?"
Saf looked at me, a small smile playing with her lips. "Of course not, though Davy's been here since he was assigned to watch the elements by our late queen."
I turned my gaze to Davenport. "So you are an infiltrator."
He nodded. "Not too bad of a job. I couldn't begin to guess what type of drone you are."
"Courier second class."
Saf's eye's widened slightly with marginal surprise. "That's pretty high up. You don't get that far if you don't like your job. You should be a pegasus."
My heart gave a little jump at the thought. I missed flying more than I thought I would. "I haven't flown in months, and even then only on changeling wings."
"Changeling flight translates well to Pegasus flight. It's just flapping slower. And with more bones. And joints."
"We really shouldn't have been surprised that she was high up." Davenport mused morosely. "Most of the drones hardly made it a month without the queen's voice in the back of their mind. Soldiers and managers lasted longer, but I'll bet at least half still devolved into madness. The ones that didn't had to be independent and smart enough to avoid a watchful guard."
I nodded sorely. "I ran into a few managers and soldiers five or six weeks back in Oatsmill. I was almost gutted on a pike before they managed to raise enough of a racket to get caught." I suddenly found myself on the receiving end of a hug from Saf, an appreciated reminder that experiences like those weren't standard fare. "Those encounters are luckily becoming fewer and fewer." I continued, relaxing into the hug.
"You're safer here, at least from our own." She murmured. "Most of the deranged ones have the sense to stay out of eyesight of Canterlot, and the ones that don't tend to get caught soon enough."
The feeling of safety seemed foreign to me after so long. The last time I had felt it was while I was living with my mom, but that had almost been a mockery as I felt the crushing pressure of pony civilization.
But I felt like I was starting to remember.