The portal deposits me and Spike on the Cutie Map again. My head’s still spinning, and I’m still trying to get back on my feet, when a familiar voice says, “Hey.” I hesitate, then look up.
It’s me. Wings, horn, and all. She looks a lot less healthy than me, though. There are bags under her eyes, her mane and tail are in a mess, and I swear she’s so thin I can see ribs poking out. She’s looking at me with some combination of hope and dismay. I wish I knew what was going through her head.
I smile slightly. “Um, hey.” It’s all I can say. Somehow, I’ve never encountered myself in these time jumps, and talking to an alternate version of yourself is a lot different than talking to an alternate version of your friends. I know I should jump right back into it, but for some reason, I can’t.
None of us speaks for a moment. She and I stare at each other, and Spike’s just fidgeting and looking off into space. She breaks the silence and coughs. “Are you me from the future? Please?”
I blink. Where did that come from? “Um, no. Sorry.” Already, I can tell this is not going to go well. “It’s, I’m from an alternate timeline, and I know it’s not good here, so I’m going to go back and fix this.” It still sounds weird to me. I probably shouldn’t be telling her that, but it feels like she needs to know. I levitate the scroll in front of me. “Now, I-”
She twitches like I hit her. Surprise and pain run across her face. “What?” she gasps. “You’re not even going to try to help me? Or ask what’s going on?”
Honestly, after everything I’ve seen, all the universes have started blurring together. I’ve never been in this one, I’ve never felt myself, but I don’t need to add yet another memory on top of the ones I already have. “I don’t need to. I just need to go back in time and right a certain wrong, and none of this will happen.”
Her face sinks, and I immediately know that was the wrong thing to say. “But… but I need you. Equestria needs you.” She must be desperate; I’ve never pleaded like that before. It hurts me more than she can know. “With another alicorn, we can beat back the Smooze in weeks. Without you, I…” She sniffs, and her next words are a whisper. “I don’t know if we can make it.”
I start shuffling my hooves and flicking my tail. “It’s more complicated than that.” It sounds like an excuse to me. Probably to her, too. “This timeline? It’s wrong, and I need to set it right.” But that still won’t change that I abandoned myself in my hour of need. No matter how much I tell myself that it was necessary.
She blinks. She’s going to explode soon. I know I would. “Set… it… What do you mean, it’s wrong?” she snaps. “Why should your world be right and mine be wrong? It’s… Look, if you want to go back, fine. But you’ve got a time travel spell, you’ve got all the time you need!” She’s very right on that account, at least. “Just… Please, just help us clean this all up. Then, if you go back and can’t fix it, we’ll all be alright. Please.”
“I’ll just keep at it until I do fix it,” I say. My voice is steady, but my words keep sounding shakier and shakier to myself. “As long as I have to. Then none of this will happen.” I’m still leaving her behind.
“So you’re going to kill me?”
I twitch. It only takes a second of thinking to realize where she came up with that. I try and fail to ignore it. “No!” I yell. But I would. She’s not me, she never can be me. Changing the timestream won’t change her, it’ll erase her. “I’d never do a thing like that! I just wa-”
“But what’s going to happen to me? I’m not you, a-”
“You’ll become me. Trust me, you’ll live in a better world.” I realize the implications of what I say much too late. But the words are already out and she’s already responding.
She slams her hooves on the table and stands up. “I’ll become you?” she yells, her voice steadily getting louder and louder. “Why can’t you become me? Why are you the important one? I’ve been fighting the Smooze for a year! Why does that mean nothing to you? Why should your timeline exist instead of mine? Why can’t you help us?”
I take a step back, my wings flaring a little. The more she talks, the more troubling this becomes. I want to help her, truly, but I can’t stay here. “My timeline’s the one that was changed,” I whisper. “Yours is the one that replaced it. I’m, I’m putting mine back in place.” I cringe internally. That probably sounds so self-centered to her. “You’re not supposed to be here.” I’m digging myself a deeper hole with ever word out of my mouth. Why am I justifying this to her? Probably because she’s me. I’m justifying this to myself. It’s not working with me.
It’s not working with her, either. “Why’s yours so important? Why you? Why not me?” I recognize that tone. She’s holding back sobs. She’s hiding it well, but I can still hear it. “Why do you get to try to erase me from history? I’m not you. Why can you replace me?”
I start looking away. Talking to her’s getting harder. It’s easy to change alternate versions of your friends. It’s less easy to erase yourself, no matter how much that would be a mercy. It’s easy to accept a timeline change will change you. It’s less easy to accept a timeline change will remove you. “Maybe you won’t disappear,” I whisper. I’m trying to reassure her, but I already know I’m going down the wrong path. Either I kill her or I leave her behind in whatever hellhole this is. That’s that. “Maybe you’ll… you’ll still exist, a-”
“Then help us!” she begs. She starts sobbing. “P-please! I’ve been at this f-for a year, and there’s n-no end in sight! But… b-but with you, I… we can do it. I kn-know we can. Please. P-please.” I’ve never seen myself like this. I can only imagine what she’s been through. And yet I can’t spend months helping her.
“Listen,” I whisper, “I’d like to.” I want to help her. I really, really do. But I can’t risk myself, and I can’t let my Equestria down. And yet it sounds hollow; by leaving, by running, I’d be letting her Equestria down. More and more, her words hit home. “But if something were to happen to me, then the original timeline would nev-”
“Why are you the only one who can choose?” she bellows. The tears are gone, and she’s raging. It’s hard to blame her. “Everything’s about you, you, you! But I’m here now! If I’m going to die when you change history, then help me so I can die in peace! If I’m going to stay here, then help me so I can live in peace! Just… just help me, you spineless…” There’s only one reason she can’t finish that sentence. Nothing she can say would sum up her contempt for me. I try to tell myself I’d be different in her position, more accepting. But I can’t.
I stare at her for a moment. My vision clouds. She almost has me. But I can’t stay here. This isn’t my Equestria. This isn’t the right timeline. I can’t risk myself for something that may never exist in the first place. And yet, I can’t bring myself to leave. This Equestria needs me. This timeline needs me. I know that if I wait another few seconds, I will stay. It’s the right thing to do. So I…
“We’re leaving, Spike.” I loathe myself even as I say it.
The scroll glows and the portal opens again above the Map. Spike and I start to rise into the air. She’s left standing there, dumbstruck, before she bolts into action.
“No!” she screams. “You can’t do this!” She lunges for me. I almost let her grab me, almost let her come with us. But I can’t. I bat her away with magic, and it feels like something breaks inside me. Passively leaving her behind is one thing. Actively keeping her from coming with us is another. She slides across the floor and slams into the wall as Spike and I disappear into the portal.
I can hear her last words as the portal closes. “Don’t leave us, you coward! Please d-don’t leave us!”
She’s right. I’m running, leaving her behind, to save myself. And it hurts.