//------------------------------//
// Epilouge 
// Story: In Another Life III: A Human(e) Retelling 
// by Bateman66 
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Several weeks later, as the chill of the winter and the past months events still hung abrasively in the air, the mail arrived as was per usual on that particular Tuesday afternoon. Alistair, being the only one home at the time, got up from listening to a few of Twilight’s gramophone records and approached the front hallway door.

Nearing the door’s mail slot, he scooped the postal contents up off the floor and carried them back over into the front library atrium. Sitting back down on his niche on the floor, as the record player continued to play “State Ceremony”; he casually flipped through the mail.

Most of the envelopes were either advertisements, bills, or flyers, all of which he tossed into a small pile in front of him. The last letter in his hand though, appeared different, with a shinier outer layering and little indentations no deeper than a tack point around the creases. The letter didn’t appear to have a return address, but had Twilight Sparkle’s address written neatly in exceptional penmanship.

Odd.

Taking one of the sealed ends with the tip of his fingernail, he gradually tore the envelope open without much grace and unfolded the equally well written letter inside. It read:

Dear Alistair,
I’m sorry that I had to make such a hasty exit after our time together was finished, but I had both of our best interests in mind. I knew if I stuck around any longer you would have reported me no matter what I told you, but now that time has worked its magic, I believe we can discuss this in a much more relaxed manner.

I’d like to say I’m sorry, my actions were not wholly justified (as I formerly thought they were) and I can only pray that somewhere inside yourself, you can forgive me. I’m not going to try and convince you of my actions, but I would like to explain them. 

Never, in any way, shape, or form did I intend to harm. The tranquilizer I gave you was the only forced assertion taken upon you, and I made the utmost care when administering it to be as painless as possible. My actions, while being far from honest, were solely for the pursuit of knowledge regarding your transfer to our current realm, nothing more.

I don’t want to keep on hiding all the way up here in this ice box, but I truly don’t feel comfortable telling you this in person. This is difficult to express through ink and paper, but I truly do feel ashamed of my actions, and speaking with you once again…would be difficult.

I hope we can someday meet together so I can fully explain myself like a true gentlecolt, but until that day arrives, this is next best thing. You are a truly extraordinary young man Alistair, and I want you to remember that for as long as you can. With best wishes, I hope we will see each other soon.

Sincerely,
Professor Neuro Paraprax

Alistair stared placidly back at the letter, which he now held firmly in his hand. The thought of crinkling up the paper and stomping on it crossed his mind, but he couldn’t garner enough hatred towards the letter which, at the moment, was the closest thing he had to Neuro being there in the flesh.

But that didn’t seem right to him, desecrating the offer of friendship Neuro had set across to him, who’d put in the effort (both physically and emotionally) to apologize for something he felt responsible for. There was respect in the action, and Alistair felt it the more and more he rolled it around in his head.

Neuro had tried his hardest to crack an age old secret that no pony else was willing to share. He stepped up, disregarded his own well-being, and risked the consequences all in the pursuit of, not himself, but knowledge.

And in the end, he’d failed, with absolutely nothing to legitimately justify his plight to anypony that understood. He had to live, not only with failure, but also with the guilt of what he’d done to Alistair, and in no way would he ever be able to take back his actions. Neuro didn’t deserve to be arrested, he at least deserved to be left alone, and maybe forgiveness could work its power somewhere along the way.

Alistair nodded and folded the piece of paper into his pocket. Reaching over to the gramophone, he positioned the needle to start “State Ceremony” from the beginning once more. Just as the first section of trumpets blasted away as the tune began, Alistair whispered his response.

“Apology accepted.”