In Another Life III: A Human(e) Retelling

by Bateman66

A Farewell

Neuro stared towards the now shut door, his ears twitching upon his head as they listened intently for any further noise behind it. Hearing nothing, he let out a painful sigh of despair.

Alistair was gone, straight out of his well furnished office and waiting room, and probably never to return to it again. Rolling this over in his mind once more, another weakening twinge hit Neuro again, this one burning more than the last.

He felt strangely sad, and he had no idea why. At least, he couldn’t think of any reason that made sense to him. Yes, he’d conversed with the boy about some pretty touchy subjects, yes; he’d manipulated him more than once, yes; he may have even drugged him forcibly, but he’d been expecting all these things to happen. He knew that maybe, just maybe, he would’ve had to resort to what he did, but after actually performing the deed…he didn’t feel well.

Hanging his head lowly, the orange furred Professor slowly walked over to his desk and plopped himself down in the aged leather swivel chair he’d had since earning his first professorate in anything. Sitting still for just a moment, he hoped back out of the chair and began to pace around the room once more.

“It had to be done,” he murmured out loud while moving around his office in a rapid circle. “Celestia knows he wouldn’t have told me willingly, and then where would we be? No where, that’s where. That invaluable information would be lost to the ages, and the truth would then be impossible to find.”

“I did what no pony else was willing to do. What no other scholar would ever even think of attempting. Instead of sitting back and letting him keep his secrets, I was able to obtain them quickly, and with the least amount of struggle.”

He let that last bit hang in the air, feeling a sense of hypocrisy in it. True, no excessive pain had been enacted on Alistair, but the dimensional transportation tome which he almost performed more than likely had put a toll on his frame. And no doubt the aggressive injection of Neuro’s mysterious drug cocktail had injured the boy further. But those were minor altercations, as Neuro tried to tell himself, unavoidable occurrences that he never could have gotten around no matter how hard he tried.

And yet…he still felt a wave of shame crash against himself the more and more he thought this. He knew he was responsible for whatever happened to the boy, and he knew that no upstanding Renaissance stallion would ever stoop to such level, and he knew, deep down, that what he had done, was wrong.

“Oh Celestia…” he mumbled hopelessly while covering his face with his hooves. “What have I done?” His mouth began to quiver, feeling smaller and smaller by the minute. “I…hurt a child, an innocent child…and…”

He looked dismally at his hooves, feeling an un-washable filth about them that he would never be able to cleanse.

Looking back toward the shut door, he uttered a single whisper to where Alistair had once stood.

“I’m so sorry.”

He felt something warm and watery drip against the edge of his cheek, followed by another drop. Smiling shakily, he sat back down at his desk and waited for the day to be over.

--------------------

By the time he made it back to his flat, it was already late into the night with little flurries of snow beginning to grace themselves down onto the winding Canterlot streets. Unlocking the door hastily, Neuro pushed himself into the equally disheveled apartment of his that matched his University office to a tee.

Closing the door behind him, he walked into his bedroom and quickly came back out with a moderately sized leather suitcase. Flipping it open atop his small kitchen counter, he whizzed around the small enclosed space looking for the necessary items.

Books, toothbrush, toothpaste, spare paper, a few manila folders, extra pencils and a scarf all where haphazardly thrown into the gaping maws of the suitcase. Looking down at it, he felt as if he was missing something then briefly laughed at himself.

That’s everything you fool, he teased himself. What, do you think you need a coat? Some boots? Gloves?

“Heck no,” he mumbled to himself. The mere thought of throwing any extra layers on to his equine physique, no matter how cold where he was going, seemed like an utterly nonsensical notion. He’d never understood why certain ponies insisted on wearing unnecessary garments, typically mares for that matter. It’s not like he was going to freeze to death, he had fur for crying out loud.

Closing the suitcase shut, he it placed over by the edge of the door, ensuring he would not forget to bring it with him when he left early the next morning. Don’t want a repeat of last time.

Now, feeling readily prepared, Neuro trotted over to his kitchen and yanked out a cider bottle from the cabinet. He brought it with him over to his comfortable leather sofa and sat down. Yanking the top off with his hoof, he drank casually from the bottle as he stared out through one of the windows he forgot to put the shades over.

He watched the small snow follicles flutter to the earth for about an hour until his head felt heavy and his eyelids felt even heavier. Slowly pushing himself up off the coach, he slowly dragged himself into his bedroom and collapsed atop his bed, not even bothering to drape the covers over himself.