//------------------------------// // Chapter 5 // Story: The End of an Old Day // by Satsuma //------------------------------// Present time.... Flash ruminated in the glow of the yellowing fluorescent tubes in their ceiling mounts. It was awfully....lucky that they'd had to clean up this particular corridor. Even Sunset, with a new understanding of the physics of exploding fireballs, had no way of explaining the presence of debris so far into the school compound. Flash had eventually concluded that it was fate that had brought them here. He'd also concluded that fate had been biding its time to give him the finger. 'Why did it have to be this one....' It was the very corridor in which he'd first met Sunset . Usually, walking by this place was enough to dampen his spirits, regardless of the circumstances preceding. Now, perhaps because of his sleep-deprived or emotionally drained state, he could swear that the corridor swam in his vision. The moonlight streaming through the wall windows seemed unnaturally bright, and he felt too warm for the middle of the night. One hand reached for his temples, and the other for a nearby locker to steady himself. He'd come to think that this hallway was perhaps haunted by a crying specter lurking in the corner of the stairwell's intermediate platform. This time, though, that ghost was only a few paces in front of him, more substantial than his memories could ever make her. Currently, she hoisted the mop bucket she was carrying, seemingly unaffected by the environment. She plodded ahead of the other two, and stopped as if for them to catch up. Flash was met with the image of Sunset, her back to him. One arm had a bucket in tow, while the other used a sleeve to wipe the sleep from her eyes. She hunched over with fatigue and unhappiness. It seemed to familiar to him, yet oddly twisted. 'We were walking in the other direction that day,' he recalled. In more than one sense too. It seemed not too long ago that he was watching quietly, day by day, as Sunset met more of the student body. She smiled more, she laughed more. She loved more. Bustling meals in the canteen, squeezed shoulder to shoulder with the other students. Quiet moments in cafes and on buses where it was just the two of them, whispering even when there was nobody around. 'How did it come to this?' he thought, as his vision refocused. This referred to a lot of things, not just this particular corridor, leading to a dead end, which housed his band's practice and equipment room. It sent a vague throbbing emotional pain through his chest, every time he passed through it. Usually, he only had to do that twice. Every Thursday, going to and leaving band practice. In the past week, he' been through this accursed hallway several times more than usual, because his band was supposed to play at the Fall Formal. It would have put him in a far fouler mood, had the timely arrival of Twilight Sparkle not distracted him sufficiently. But now, Twilight Sparkle wasn't here.... Coco tapped him on the shoulder, a silent indication to increase his pace. They had almost caught up with her, when she lurched suddenly, slopping some of the water from the bucket onto the floor. She took hold of the bucket with both her hands, and began striding briskly, urgently. Heading straight for the stairwell where he had first found her. At middle platform of the stairwell, she threw the bucket into the corner where she had once sat. The weight of its contents kept it upright, but enough of water escaped to drench Sunset's lower torso. She seemed to ignore that. Then she went on her knees in front of the bucket, took a few deep breaths, and promptly regurgitated her late lunch into it. All that happened in the third of a minute that it took Coco and Flash to react. 'Who would've thought,' Flash mused, partly because he was going a little green in the face himself. He swallowed to undo his gag reflex. By the time he got to her, Sunset had emptied out most of her stomach and was reduced to shuddering breaths. He patted her firmly on the back once, forcing a little more putrid liquid up her gullet. Grimacing at the sorry sight, he started chiding. "How many times have I told you before, there's no shame in asking for help. I swear, one day you're doing to die of stubbornness--" He caught a whiff of the bucket's contents, its acrid odor stopping him mid-sentence and causing his gullet to constrict forcibly. He lost his presence of mind then, put a hand on Sunset's chest, and all but threw her sideways. He grabbed the bucket and hoisted it up to his mouth, and added a solid measure of his own 'contribution'. Sunset hugged her knees to her chest, resting her head on them, while Flash resolved his nausea. Coco stood silently with her arms crossed at the bottom of the stairwell, watching. The last time this had happened, it was because they'd both gotten wasted on cheap tequila. It was an ultimate show of trust between them, both knowing that the other would not to do something they'd both regret, even with lowered inhibitions. She had a feeling that this incidence meant something equally important, but entirely different. Presently, she listened in on their exchange. "What is it about this bloody hallway anyway?" Sunset complained. "You know better what it is, you psycho!" he gasped, before slumping against a nearby wall. She swore and leaped at him. 'Oh boy,' thought Coco, as she moved in to break up the fight. Not much of a fight, since Flash had barely moved in response. Coco wondered what this was about, as she dragged them bodily back down the corridor by the back of their collars. Not easy for a slight, willowy girl like her, but she would manage it as necessary. Months Ago.... As the bus plodded its way from the suburban zones towards the bustling city center, Flash and Sunset found themselves surrounded by a growing crowd. The central aisle of the bus got narrower, as more commuters piled onto the vehicle. It was not enough to create unpleasantness, but the presence of others was made acutely noticeable. It was just as well that they weren't in the mood for conversation. Not that they were being unsociable. Just occupied. Sunset waited in eager but silent anticipation as the view outside the window changed gradually. The even spacing of rows of low one- and two-story houses were replaced with the haphazard sprawl of steel, glass and concrete buildings which were several times higher at least. Sloping, shingled layers of rectangular roof flattened and rose out of sight. The grass and flowers of lawns was replaced by tarmac and asphalt. What little vegetation was present sprang from apartment block balconies and skeletal fire escapes, like furtive creepers from the cracks of a huge wall. Buildings lost their idyllic pastel hues and turned a moody grey. The sky was also turning a similar shade, and so were the commuters, despite several being decked out in jackets, sweaters and the like. The air was laden with moisture, even through the bus' AC unit. Sunset did not take note of the sky nor the commuters, but she noticed every little change happening outside the window, with glee. The big city was just beyond her view. Flash chose not to speak because, frankly, he was scared stiff and worried sick. And probably well and truly sick, too. Usually, none of this would have impeded him. He would be in his element, trying to know Sunset a little better, and he's pretty much have a foundation to work on by now. Situations so far had been screaming at him that Sunset Shimmer was not a usual girl, though. She was something else entirely. Something, which he had to admit, was pretty amazing and quite daunting. For starters, he'd taken notice that she was very, very attractive. It was very acute and very painful to notice. And every time he reassessed his opinion, he found it becoming more and more apparent that he was attracted to her. Once, he had tried rationalizing it, out of pure desperation. It had ended badly, as it often did when he tried that; he had stopped thinking entirely, and started feeling. He'd developed a crush on her in slightly less than two weeks, something he found embarrassing to consider. But that wasn't it. He knew the anxiety of trying to befriend a pretty girl, and all the associated hazards, and none of it resembled this. He could get over a crush. One way or another. It would wear him thin until he told her or did something stupid to forget about it. It had certainly happened before (he shuddered at the memory and the air-conditioning). He had some degree of security in dealing with that. Sunset's presence and sheer difference from the norm removed all sense of familiarity from him, laid him bare and--to be honest--truthful. This was something else entirely. She was something else entirely. It was far from the only consideration, though. He knew that there was something between them which did not come easily, a certain empathy to each others' respective plights, though his was long gone and her's seemed to be fading. Maybe that was why he felt so insecure around her. (Yes, he had been shrugging very often, now that he thought about it). She was something special to him, now that he understood something of her inner workings. Special in what way, that would remain to be seen. But one kind of intimacy felt like another at times, and he'd hate to misread the situation. He sighed. It was the same train of thought that had set into motion his silly little plan. He guessed the worry must have worn him down more quickly than he had expected, because he had tried to pull it off. 'My stupid little plan.' He thought. He was sure that talking her into letting him tag along would be easy, but he hadn't banked on her finding out about his....pre-preparation. 'Good gracious, she's sharp.' No, more than sharp, uncanny. Her explanation of how he was caught in the act had made some sense, but if she hadn't been right, he wouldn't have bought it. And he knew that if it didn't convince him, it definitely wouldn't convince her. So what had made her so sure that she was right? An unusual empathy? Maybe, but he doubted it was just that. She knew something he didn't know. She probably knew things that nobody else knew. She wasn't just any other girl, that was for sure. And he realized in that moment, that it was because there was something about her, which he could not quite put his finger on, that set her apart. With any other girl there wasn't anything else to really know aside from the little nothings-that-meant-everything. Sunset's sense of enigma was well-deserved. He'd mainly identified her as having an emotional vulnerability similar to his, before today, but now he realized that it was a grave error in judgment. She had a formidable intellect, a force in motion even in the most casual moments. And even that was probably the tip of the iceberg. He wondered how someone so talented had ended up in a sleepy little public high school. He wondered many other things about Sunset. And then he fell asleep. Something lurched gently onto Sunset's shoulder, pulling her out of her reverie. She turned to find Flash's head on her shoulder, and her heart skipped a beat. 'You have no concept of subtlety,' she thought, and nearly said as much. Then he woke with a start and mumble an apology. She sighed silently in relief. Just an accident. 'Cute.' Thought came unbidden. She stamped it out like hot embers and tried her best to think about something else. "Maybe you'd better go on home," she suggested, a little too quickly. She cursed her lack of self-control. He did look sort of tired, though. "No, no, I'm fine," he insisted, and promptly sneezed. She crossed her arms in response. "Point taken," he conceded, "but I'm still tagging along. Don't you fret." He put a hand on her shoulder, but she didn't think it was very reassuring this time. Still, she quite liked it. It was warm. She looked back out of the window, placing a hand on the glass. It was cold to the touch. Flash fell asleep again beside her. An old woman had slipped onto the vehicle, eyeing the sky suspiciously and breathing a minute sigh of relief. Flash somehow managed to rouse himself long enough to offer his seat to her, which she took gratefully. Sunset, who was too slow on the draw, had initially shrugged and relaxed back into her seat, before she had caught sight of Flash. One hand reaching out to steady himself on the backrest of a seat, the other trying to rub the sleep from his eyes, to no avail. The slight manner in which the corners of his mouth turned down. She got off her seat to stand beside him, ignoring the quizzical stares of the other standing commuters. They overcame their surprise quickly enough and there was a slight jostle as they tried to fill the vacuum of space she had left. Flash tried to wave her back down, then attempt to press her firmly back into her seat. She nudged back against him, until he saw that someone else had filled the void behind her, and stopped trying. He smiled at her and shook his head slowly. She smiled back, then took a step closer. They were to close to see each other now. Flash thought it strange but had not the presence of mind to question it. Sunset looked out of the window, over his shoulder. He fell asleep again, as she knew he would. His head came down on her shoulder, and she reached out a hand and held it there before he could raise it again. He protested weakly but gave in ultimately. The old woman chuckled behind Sunset. The growing crowd pressed them all closer together. She woke him up again, two stops earlier than her intended destination, and they managed to worm their way through the thickness of people, many of whom now sported sweaters or jackets. They seemed to take up more space, but were noticeably less painful to squeeze past. Flash dismounted the vehicle, straight into a pedestrian sign, while Sunset stepped off a little more carefully and offered a wave of thanks to the driver. He waved back before the doors hissed close. When she turned, she found Flash grimacing and rubbing a sore spot slightly above his hairline. She grinned, tip-toed and ran her hand a few times over the same spot. Apparently, her attempt was far more efficacious, because he turned to follow as she set down the narrow path flanking the now-congested roads. She took a deep breath of city air and started to come alive. In every way, this was a different city from Canterlot. This one was much smaller, for one, despite their higher (and much more necessary) level of technology. It was built on flatter ground, and the buildings were squat, angular and thick. The air also seemed perpetually clogged with fumes. Sunset had never gotten used to that. Canterlot possessed, in stark contrast, sweeping towers, spires, arches and balconies that reached into the sky, above, besides and sometimes, beneath it. The air of those higher altitudes was cool and clear, and precipitation tended to come down as sleet instead of rain. She still liked the feel of the place, and every time she visited, this world felt a little more familiar. It was like dreaming of something familiar; things were not quite as one recalled, but one knew unquestionably what was being referenced. This was preferable to dreaming because she was awake. It was still an urban center after all, and it had all the trappings of one; numerous pedestrians (less now, thanks to the inclement weather), their paths incised by wide roadways for vehicles, the masses of monolithic stone (or steel, or glass).... All this, she took in and referenced to experiences from a week before, then a month, and so on. It took the insistent tugging of Flash to disturb her recollections. He'd been watching the skies, glancing up at each occasional peal of thunder. When the fat, heavy drops of rain had begun to fall, he'd taken hold of Sunset's wrist and hurried her along, although he was not altogether sure where they were heading. He asked a question that Sunset hadn't altogether heard, but recognized correctly. She pointed to a nearby arcade and spoke the first words they had said in almost an hour. "This way." The sliding glass doors opened for them just as the rain started in earnest. In contrast to the artificially cooled air, the rain and wind outside almost felt warm. 'Fancy having central cooling,' she thought, 'when some ponies can't even keep warm in Equestria!' It was still ingenious. She'd once spent an entire day following the air ducts through a nearby building, much to the bemusement of the mall security, which received repeated reports of a suspicious character loitering around the place. Flash's teeth chattered once or twice, and remained clenched long after Sunset ceased to hear the telltale clacking of enamel. She thought it strange. It was chilly, but not nearly cold enough for that. "I think you might have caught something," she observed unnecessarily. Flash waved her away. "I'm fine," he said, clearing his throat and coughing into his sleeve. "Really." She tutted at him, but dropped the subject. The rain formed minuscule torrents and eddies on the half-cylinder of glass making up the arcade roof. The resultant gloom cast the archways and second-story connections of the building in a much different light. On a bright day, the gentler architecture of the place, the illusion of open skies through the clear ceiling, and air conditioning, could almost fool Sunset into thinking she was back in Canterlot. That was why she'd chosen to come here. She glanced at her watch, and noticed first of all that it was dark enough for the neon dials to glow weakly. It was also early enough that caffeine wouldn't keep her up late. She turned to Flash, who had zipped his jacket and slipped his hands into his pockets. Presently, he had his eyes closed. She had a feeling that not all of him had awoken at the same time when he'd gotten off the bus. Clearing her throat sheepishly, she rested a hand in the crook of his arm and guided him gently along. He followed after a pause. "Coffee?" she suggested. "Coffee," he agreed. They'd chosen a small café which seemed that it was dug into the building's walls, and an unoccupied booth in the corner. There were barely five others in the establishment itself. Sunset insisted on Flash taking a seat and waiting for her to get their drinks. He was too drowsy to really protest. "You sure you're fine?" she asked yet again, as she set his cup down by the saucer. "Couldn't be better," he said flatly through clenched teeth. For some reason, he had a pounding headache which wouldn't go away. He rubbed at his temples. "Couldn't be better," Sunset repeated doubtfully. "Something warm might help you feel better. Go on...." She pushed a cup to him by the saucer. He took it gratefully and sipped, producing a sound like a hand-held vacuum cleaner. She paused. The gesture was a complete violation of her learned habit, hard-won by training and practice. This was another familiarity from home, something less pleasant to her than graceful architecture or fresh air. Being a princess' protege, she had been trained since young in every kind of pleasantry, taught to master her even the slightest nuance in her disposition. Her tutor had been equal parts practical experience and application, and Celestia herself. Neither were particularly forgiving. When she'd first come here, she'd had to get used to dressing herself in the morning. It was still a habit that felt far more alien than putting on her visage. Which was why Flash's total disregard for etiquette was as jarring as a slap in the face. She watched a little more closely. Either he didn't care or didn't know, or didn't care to know. Come to think of it, she didn't know why she cared, even if she knew. Her eyes drifted back to the mug clutched in front of her. The hands that clutched it were orange, lithe, hairless. They weren't a single hard surface, but multiple little appendages with little chips of keratin. And they were hers. Hers. She glanced quickly over herself, then outside the coffee joint, back into the gloomy arcade. The glass roof became painfully obvious, and the congested little storefronts of shop after shop betrayed the limitations of space here. No, she was not in Canterlot any more than she was still a pony. She looked back at Flash. She was one of them now. The realization sent a wave of apprehension and....release, washing throughout her. The former, because she had never thought of herself as having any sort of permanent place, any sort of life here, of really being human before now. The second because, gone were the courts of Canterlot, the presence of her teacher, and all the disappointments and oppressive conditions. The cup absent-mindedly came up to her lips, and she took a sip. 'Which reminds me,' she thought suddenly. For as long as she'd remembered, coffee always came with the need not to stain one's teeth. This time, it came with the compulsion to swirl it around her mouth, to fully taste the beverage. So she let the liquid flow over her teeth, the fullness of cheap milk and cheaper coffee permeating to anywhere that it could reach. It was better than she'd expected. Flash eyed her quietly, then offered a questioning stare when she finally noticed that he was watching. "What?" she asked, hesitant. She had never done that before, as far as he could remember. "This stuff isn't exactly cheap, so I'm going to enjoy it," she added defensively, when he failed to respond. "Nothing wrong with that," he finally said. "Oh." She didn't sound at all convinced, and sank back into her seat a little, looking troubled. "Hey." He lifted his own cup to his lips, took a large mouthful of hot liquid, and swished it around his mouth, as deliberately as he could manage, all the while never breaking his gaze. She straightened up in surprise, before a small, grateful smile broke across her lips. He swallowed the now-lukewarm coffee and smiled back, feeling warmer inside than the drink had warranted.