//------------------------------// // The Wait // Story: Synchronization // by Terrasora //------------------------------// Fleur de Lis paced the length of the waiting room. Her steps were mechanical, exactly the same as she passed back and forth. Click. Click. Click. Click. Then a pause, as she turned around and made her way back. Click. Click. Click. Click. It was the middle of the night, almost early enough to be called morning. Under normal circumstances, the hospital’s warm, heavy atmosphere and the rhythmic sound of Fleur’s hooves against tile would have lulled Harpo to sleep. Lyra, never one for staying up late, was breathing steadily in the seat just next to the composer, but Harpo was wide awake. Click. Click. Click. Click. Fleur hadn’t said a word since they’d entered the waiting room. Vinyl had been rushed inside, having remained unconscious through her ambulance ride. They, the hospital staff, had kept the other members of Syncopated Records from following until they’d run their preliminary tests. Octavia had not taken kindly to this and had insisted, rather loudly, that she be allowed to see Vinyl. Fleur took her aside, to a corner of the empty waiting room where they exchanged a few words out of the earshot of either Harpo or Lyra. Once they were done, Octavia had taken a seat facing the doorway through which Vinyl had passed. Her eyes were glued to that doorway, a few stray tears finding their way down her cheeks from time to time. Click. Click. Click. Click. Harpo should have been worried. Or, rather, should have been far more worried than he was. He had not heard or seen whatever had made Vinyl take her trip to the hospital, but he was certainly worried about her, despite the fact that the hospital staff allowing Octavia to see Vinyl was surely a good sign. However, they had limited Vinyl’s visits to one pony at a time, and Octavia had yet to return. Harpo and Fleur would have to wait a bit longer for any more news. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Harpo looked up at the change. Fleur had walked past her usual turning point, making a beeline out of the waiting room. Harpo was left alone for a few minutes, Lyra snoring softly next to him, before Fleur returned, now floating a notepad and quill before her. Evidently, it was one of the new quill models, the type with the ink inside of it, as there was no inkpot in sight. “I’m going to send a letter to Fancy Pants,” said Fleur, taking a seat for the first time since entering the hospital. “He needs to know what’s happened.” Harpo nodded. “And another one to Coda,” continued Fleur, “explaining why neither Octavia nor Vinyl will be at practice.” “Will I be there?” Fleur looked up from the notepad, inspecting Harpo. “Is there a reason that you shouldn’t be?” Harpo took a moment to think. He shook his head. “No, I suppose not.” “Then I’ll tell him that you’ll be there.” Fleur floated the notepad before her, placing quill to paper. It stayed there, pressing lightly onto the first line. “Is there anything that I need to include?” “It would be best to ask Octavia that question.” “Why were you and Lyra down in the lobby? I’d assumed that you four would be practicing.” “We were talking.” “About what?” A pause. “Are you asking that as my boss?” “If I have to.” Harpo sighed, straightening slightly in his seat. “Then I’ll keep it short.” *** Vinyl was asleep. The fall had been a nasty one, and the nurses and doctor had not been happy to learn that Octavia had moved their patient. It was never wise, they had said, to move anyone who had sustained a head injury. But the chastisement had lasted for only a few short moments. Then they had left Octavia in her current position. The cellist had hardly moved since then, firmly seated next to Vinyl’s bed. The heart rate monitor beeped rhymically, serving as the only sound in the room save for the occasional nurse shuffling through on some business or other. Octavia herself never made a sound. She only watched Vinyl. It occurred to Octavia that she had never really seen Vinyl sleep, despite the numerous times that something had led them to share a bed. Vinyl was always behind her, her face buried in Octavia’s mane, or else they would awaken at about the same time, leaving Octavia with only enough time to realize that Vinyl had been sleeping next to her before the DJ woke up. Even then, Octavia’s memories of Vinyl’s sleeping face were hazy. But now, there was no telling how long Octavia had sat there, her eyes alternating between watching Vinyl and watching the floor. She could have drawn the sleeping form, the slight parting of Vinyl’s lips, the mane, normally perfectly spiked, that now drooped and covered part of Vinyl’s forehead. Perhaps the most striking difference, however, was the lack of purple lenses covering Vinyl’s face. Without them or the color of Vinyl’s equally striking eyes, the DJ’s face was a perfect white mask, devoid of the usual fire that infused Vinyl’s movement. She seemed calm, laying there. Small, serene, and completely incapable of annoying anyone. In short, everything that Vinyl isn’t. Octavia started, eyes previously heavy with sleep suddenly opening wide. “This hasn’t happened in a while,” she muttered to herself. There’s always time for a comeback. I have my friends now. There’s hardly a reason to talk to myself any more. There are times where there’s nopony else to talk to. Octavia frowned at that. A nurse passed through the room, quickly checking the monitors and making a few notes. She was gone just as quickly as she entered. There’s no use in arguing with myself. There never has been. Octavia let out a sigh. “I’m going mad,” she said quietly. “Everything’s finally caught up with me, hasn’t it?” This was a common thing a few months ago. “Yes, well, it’s been a few months since then, hasn’t it?” Enough time to break this habit? Enough for a lot of things to happen. Octavia’s gaze shifted to Vinyl. The DJ scowled in her sleep, the sudden tension making her muzzle scrunch slightly. It feels like far longer than it’s actually been. She literally worried herself sick over me. Not just me. Work, music, practice, travel, new places, new ponies. Hardly just me. But mainly me. A pause. Octavia watched as Vinyl let out a breath, her face relaxing back into its peaceful state. I should have told her as soon as I could. I did tell her. Octavia leaned forward, putting her head in a hoof. “I was an idiot. This entire situation could have been averted if I hadn’t been so stupid.” Don’t go down this road. You know that nothing good can come from— But Octavia clamped down on that thought. Yes, she knew full well what it meant to blame herself. She knew, in the farthest corners of her mind, how idiotic it was to attempt to accept the blame for something that was caused by a hundred different things. But at that moment, none of those thoughts mattered to Octavia Philharmonica. *** “Good morning, maestro!” “And to you, Madame Note.” “Good morning, maestro. You’re looking well.” “And you’re looking nervous, Master Tremolo. I trust that you had the time to practice as I asked you?” Tremolo, a rather small, dark brown pegasus, scratched the back of his mane. “Not exactly.” Coda sighed, throwing a sharp look at the musician. “You have twenty minutes before rehearsal begins, Master Tremolo; I suggest you make the most of it.” “Yes, maestro. Thank you, maestro!” Tremolo gave a few tentative bows, then walked hurriedly away. Coda leaned back in his seat, watching as the pegasus climbed onto the stage and took his place. The other members of the Fillydelphia Orchestra steadily filed into the concert hall, each one of them greeting their maestro as they passed. Every orchestra member had filed into place a full ten minutes before rehearsal was set to begin. The sound of random notes filled the air as each musician began tuning their instruments to one another. The only problem, Coda noted with a certain degree of annoyance, were the missing guests. He had told them to arrive early, yet they were nowhere in sight. It wasn’t the best impression they could make. “Maestro Coda?” came a voice from behind the conductor. Coda turned. “Ah, Madame Heartstrings, was it?” Lyra nodded, reaching into her saddlebags. Coda glanced past the mare, then around the concert hall. “And where are the rest of you? There’s hardly enough time to tune your instruments properly.” “That’s why I’m here, sir.” Lyra held out a neatly folded sheet of paper. “It’s from Fleur.” Coda quickly took the note, unfolding it and scanning through the slanted letters. It was a rather short letter, holding only the bare minimum of what Coda needed to know. He frowned slightly and gave it back to Lyra. “Tell her that I wish for Madame Scratch’s swift recovery and that I will be preparing the orchestra for their return, the sooner that is, the better. Will you be traveling back to the hospital now?” Lyra nodded. Coda got to his hooves with a slight sigh. “Very well, then. Send Fleur my regards. I’ll tell the orchestra why none of our guests will be in attendance.” “Thank you, maestro Coda.” Coda nodded in response, then turned, climbing the stairs and calling the orchestra to attention. Lyra left the concert hall as Coda told his musicians what had transpired. *** The sun had risen high into the sky and begun to set. Vinyl had been asleep for close to 12 hours, the hospital staff keeping a close watch on her all the while. By all measures, Vinyl had not received any serious injury from her fall, but there was never any harm in being cautious. Octavia had left Vinyl’s room once in those twelve hours, and only that because the nurses had forced her to. As the hospital staff grew more confident in Vinyl’s condition, they had allowed more guests into the room. Fleur and Lyra had both done their fair share of visits. Harpo too had entered the room a few times, but his visits were far shorter, often limited to leaving a cup of water or a sandwich for Octavia. Then he would leave, pacing the waiting room or sitting in an uncomfortable seat. Whatever the case, his eyes hardly ever left a clock placed high along the wall farthest from the lobby’s entrance. “Fatigue,” said Fleur de Lis. From Harpo’s point of view, she had simply materialized beside him. In actuality, she had been sitting there since Harpo had returned from Vinyl’s room. “Pardon?” asked Harpo, furrowing his brow slightly. “Vinyl had been working far too hard for her own good. At least, that’s what the doctors say.” “Ah.” Harpo glanced at the clock again. Fleur gave a faint frown. “Waiting for something?” Harpo nodded. “I’ll be leaving in an hour and a half.” “I see. Any particular reason?” “I have to speak to somepony.” “I’d thought that you’d want to be here when Vinyl wakes.” Harpo waved a flippant hoof. “Octavia is there. That should be enough.” Fleur regarded him for a moment. “You don’t actually believe that.” Harpo gave her a questioning look. “You’re tired,” continued Fleur, “and distraught. It’s entirely understandable; but the best thing that you can do is be there for Vinyl. You have to be there, Harpo. We’re all going to have to sit down and discuss everything if there’s any chance of remedying this situation.” “And I’ll be there when that happens,” insisted Harpo. “But there’s something else I can do before then!” Harpo sighed, leaning back in his seat and rubbing at his eyes. “Why do ponies have to be so complicated, Fleur? Is it so difficult to let things pass?” “Vinyl will be perfectly willing to—” “I’m not talking about Vinyl,” cut in Harpo. A pause. Then Harpo sighed again. “Look at me, I’m a mess. I should never have gone to see Octavia last night; it would have been far better for everyone if I’d just gone to sleep.” “Harpo,” began Fleur in a comforting tone. “If you’ve somehow convinced yourself that what happened is your fault, you must get out of that mindset.” Harpo shook his head. “Of course it’s not my fault. I’m not kind enough, or stupid enough for that matter, to lay all of the blame on myself.” Harpo ran a hoof through his mane, playing with a out of place strand. “I am, however, more than willing to fix what I can.” “And going to see this pony will fix something?” Harpo shrugged. The bags under his eyes, well hidden by his purple coat, seemed to darken slightly. "I have absolutely no idea."