Wings Of War

by chief maximus

':02'

Wings Of War
':02'

I dragged myself out of bed and unlocked the door before walking back towards the table, where my whiskey from the night before beckoned. Still had a third of a bottle left. Not bad. I heard the door open behind me. I glanced over my shoulder to acknowledge the early twenties unicorn mare as she pushed her way through.

"Thanks for the help."

Sarcasm. Something she was getting fairly good at. She had been coming by for weeks now, though I never understood why she wanted to come here instead of someplace that wasn't this filthy hovel I called home. She said she wanted me to be comfortable or some such nonsense.

Apparently Celestia wanted the war stories of old stallions like me documented, but for what purpose I didn't know. The truth behind what happened on battlefields across Equestria wasn't something you could just write down. Besides that, my truth certainly wouldn't fit the official description of the war. The Celestia-approved version. The noble stallions fighting and dying for their kingdom against the savages of Luna's horde.

"Can I get you a drink?" I asked.

I may be an old, alcoholic soldier, but I still had some manners.

"It's 10:30 in the morning."

"Suit yourself." I shrugged.

More for me anyway. I took a seat at the dingy table as she sat across from me, quill and scroll at the ready as always. This had been going on once a week, for about an hour or so a day. She was about the only visitor I ever got anymore. I had a family once, but once the money ran out, so did they. Scumbags. Not that I needed them, but still. Being alone for so long with nothing but a head full of memories you'd like nothing more than to forget does things to a stallion.

"How have you been sleeping?"

I scoffed. She knew how I'd been sleeping, but still she asked me that every time she stopped by.

"How do you think?"

"Still having nightmares?"

I hated this. She knew the answers to every question she asked; yet she asked them anyway.

"Yes. The village one this time."

She made a quick few scribbles on her scroll before continuing as I took a swig of my drink.

"I know I've said this before, but the alcohol isn't helping," she added, eyeballing me as I took another sip.

"You aren't my mother. Now, let's get on with it."

Trying to describe war to a filly too young to have even been alive during it was like trying to describe color to the blind. It's not something you can just talk about. It's something you had to experience. Still, I tried to put it in laypony's terms for her. After all, I'm sure she didn't choose this job.

I had told her of everything (well, most everything. Call it a sense of chivalry or sexism if you will, but there are some things I just can't talk about in front of an innocent filly like her) I had done during the war. I had relived it through my dreams so many times; affixing severed heads to a pike was like splitting apples for a fruit salad to me now.

We were near the end of my last tour. Every last one of my squad with the exception of Cotton had been killed at one point or another. Some in midnight ambushes, some during routine patrols. One had his head cut clean off by a strand of razor wire as he sprinted to aid another. That stallion was trying and failing to fight off five or six zebra warriors. The average stallion would probably have gone insane by now. I had no idea why I hadn't. Maybe my time was coming. Maybe they'd find the last member of the fabled Silent Service dead on the floor of some crummy hotel, still clutching his unit insignia in one hoof and a bottle of half empty high proof bourbon in the other. Just like they found Cotton.

But they wouldn't. Not if I could help it.

After the official interview was over, she would do something I found most annoying. She would stay and visit with me, like we were old friends. I'd be remiss if I said there wasn't a part of me that liked it. No stallion is an island, as they say.

"Haven't been getting out much, have you?"

Like she had to ask.

"No, not really."

"You've got princess Celestia's recognition ceremony coming up. Is your uniform ready?"

Recognition. For what? For doing what I was told without question like a good little pawn? I didn't need recognition, especially not from her. What about those young colts whose mothers only received a visit from the royal consulate and a M.I.A. card? Who probably wondered to this day whether their little boys were suffering in a prison camp somewhere before being murdered by those zebra bastards? Or those who were fortunate enough to get actual confirmation of their sons death, with a folded flag and a 'sincere' letter of thanks for their sacrifice, signed by Celestia's own rubber stamp? Where's their recognition?

I didn't want to upset her, though.

"Yeah, it's all set out in the closet."

She got up and took a peek as if she owned the place, nearly tripping over the floor safe that came with the apartment. Not like I minded, but still, this generation had a thing or two to learn about manners.

"Anything in the safe?"

Curiosity killed the cat, my dear.

"Nothing but more booze. I keep it in there to keep the maintenance guys from swiping it."

There wasn't a drop of alcohol in that thing, but I damn sure wasn't about to tell her what was. She'd know soon enough.

I caught her staring at me again. She'd been rather shy in the beginning of our time together, but I guess she had gotten comfortable around me. Every time I'd caught her staring these past few weeks she'd look away, embarrassed. I had honestly never seen a purple unicorn blush before, but I didn't figure it was anything. Then I started to put two and two together. Don't get me wrong; I was flattered to still have that effect on at least one mare, even if it was just a bookworm like her. But I'm almost twice her age. Hell, she could be my daughter.

Oh well. That's a young stallion's game.

"It's the only thing that keeps me going anymore"

I thought I muttered that under my breath. Apparently I didn't.

"What?"

The concern was pretty obvious now. I should've kept my mouth shut.

"Nothing."

"Alcohol is the only thing that keeps you going?"

Why ask me what I said if you knew the whole time? This filly was getting on my nerves.

"Yeah. It is. I'd have off'd myself a while ago if it weren't for this." I didn't care about tact at this point. She wanted to know, so I told her.

I took another swig, finishing the glass before reaching for the rest of the bottle. She put her hoof on top of mine and stopped me. Her blush was still there, but her seriousness was apparent in her smoldering glare.

"I'd put that hoof back by your side if you want to keep it."

I normally wouldn't threaten a filly like that, but this was my lifeblood we're talking about here.

She slowly withdrew her hoof in defeat. I wondered why she would do that; why she would care. The defeated look on her face told me she was only trying to help. But why? I was just some grizzled old soldier living out his final days in a Manehattan hovel. Why would a pretty young filly like her concern herself with weather or not I drank myself to death?

I poured the rest into my glass and set the empty bottle between us. I studied her expression, still caught up in why she would care. She's never shown anything like this in the preceding weeks. She knew she wouldn't have to visit me after today. Maybe that was why. Maybe she was one of those types that tries to leave something better than the way they found it.

If that was the case she was wasting her time. I've been broken for a while. The booze was just a bandage, and those don't last forever.

"You don't know what it's like, Twilight. You ever lost any friends?" I was getting serious now. Maybe the booze had a little bit to do with it, but I at least wanted to explain my actions. I felt like I owed her that.

She shook her head.

"You want to know why I do this?"

She nodded slowly.

"When you see your best friend's eyes plead for you to intervene as he knows he's about to meet his end, and you don't because you know to give away your position meant more along with yourself would die, to be unable to even look away for fear of rustling against the leaves as the light of life leaves his eyes... and then to relive that on an endless loop over and over again as you fall asleep. Am I wrong? Am I wrong to not have the strength to face that kind of torment without a little help?"

I regretted that immediately. I had never been that open with anypony. I cursed myself for letting that out. Maybe I should take it easy on the booze, at least when company is over. Then she surprised me.

"My father. He served in the Lunar wars too. I never knew him without a drink to his lips. He drank himself to death, just like you're doing. Forgive me if I'd rather not watch somepony else do it in front of me."

There was that sarcasm again, along with a bit of ice for good measure. She was getting good.

I could tell letting me know about her father was something particularly hard for her to do. I didn't mean to come off like such a jerk; I just wanted her to get a taste of why I do the things I do.

"I'm sorry to hear about your Dad."

Her features softened. Looks like she just admitted something she hadn't told anypony else either.

"That's one of the reasons I took this assignment. Dad never talked about his time in the service. I wanted to know why... I figured one way to find out would be to interview the few remaining veterans who were there."

It all made sense now. Sad, though it was. Growing up with an emotionally distant father can do things to a filly.

"When your society is based on kindness, friendship, and helping others, things like war contrast so sharply, that some can't deal with it. The lucky ones block it out until it festers as a mental illness. Others, like me—and your dad, apparently—hide it through liquor. Still, some just can't take it at all. They're the ones who don't make it. The ones like Cotton..."

I'd gone and done it again. I threw back the rest of my drink and scolded myself for continuing to talk. Then I saw who she really was. Just a lonely filly who missed her Dad. I stood from the chair and took a seat on the side of my bed, rubbing my eyes with my hooves. My flanks were falling asleep in that stiff chair anyway.

"If you're Dad was anything like me, he drank so he could feel. Things like what we did back there... they rob you of your equanity. You can't feel unless you've been drinking. Even then... sometimes that stops working..."

What the hell is the matter with me? My mouth is running like a leaky faucet, and I'm just letting it happen.

I felt another weight on the mattress beside me. That's not good. I glanced over at her; she was still red as apple skin. I'd seen that look on a mare's face before. This filly has seriously lost it if she thinks I'm going to—

Before I knew what happened, her lips were on mine. Needless to say I was a bit surprised. I wondered why she would even consider an old stallion like me. Pity maybe? Perhaps.

More likely some unresolved daddy issues. Strangely enough, she didn't seem like the type, as most of those turned into strippers. She was different somehow.

She pulled away. If she was red before, she was a strawberry now.

"Did you feel that?"

This was completely out of left field. I was still trying to make sense of it all before she threw herself on top of me. Instinct took over at this point, and I wasn't about to stop her. Maybe I was the pervert for letting someone half my age get the better of me like this. Maybe she was the one with problems, going after a stallion that could have been her Dad's age. I didn't know, and honestly couldn't care less. If this was what she wanted, I wasn't going to stop her.

We stayed in bed until dark, joined at the hips. Even now I had no idea what possessed her to do that, or why she would even find me attractive in the first place. I held her next to me as we laid there in silence. We hadn't said much of anything since all this started. This heart of mine found itself one last centimeter that hadn't been hardened by what I'd done. That spot was hers now, but not for too much longer. She worked for the princess. She'd often gone on about being Celestia's faithful student or something. I had to know whether she would be at the ceremony tomorrow or not. She was a good filly, and didn't deserve what was coming.

"Are you going to be at the ceremony tomorrow?"

"Mhm, right next to Princess Celestia."

My heart sank. I couldn't let her get hurt. She was innocent in all of this. One of the few associated with the royals who were.

"I guess I'll have to catch a ride with you."

She rubbed her cheek against my chest. It didn't feel like I was her first, but I couldn't imagine her being a stallion's mare. She was a tad clingy too, but she was young. She still had her whole life ahead of her.

I got out of bed and walked to the small kitchen area to get us some water. We were both pretty thirsty, but I had a special ingredient for her. I glanced back over at Twilight. She was watching whatever garbage came on the t.v. this late at night. I grabbed a small brown bag from the medicine cabinet. Sleeping powder I had a prescription for, but hadn't used it since I'd started drinking. Hopefully it was still effective. I put two spoonfuls in her glass, watching it dissolve as I brought it over. She took it in her magic and nearly drained the whole glass in one thirsty gulp.

'Atta girl.'

That should keep her asleep until well after the ceremony. Consider it my last act of kindness before my time on earth was through.