Twilight Years

by Dafaddah

Dusk

The doorbell rang.

Twilight went to the door and used her magic to press the open button of the electronic access system.

A large man in bile-green scrubs stood before her. A new one, this time!

His eyes widened as Twilight's four-foot tall form was revealed. "Shee-it! A mother-lovin' unicorn!"

“Please identify yourself,” asked Twilight in a neutral tone of voice.

"Nurse Jake Hughes. Blue Shield Palliative Care. I'm here for Mr. Rousseau's check-up."

"Identity confirmed. You may call me Twilight. Enter," she responded flatly and moved aside. "The house diagnostic systems are now accessible to your tablet."

"Yeah, sure." Hughes glanced one last time at her before entering the apartment proper. "A pony! Must be some kind of perv!" he whispered as he moved past.

Twilight went into the office and opened her laptop to the medical application that provided the care-bot interface she had installed. Tweaking the keyboard with her telekinesis, she checked that the vision-impaired screen reader worked and its output was audible via the Bluetooth receiver in her ear. Her experience was that many of the visiting nurses seemed to find having a care-bot recite George's diagnostic readouts more fun than looking down at the tablet strapped to their arm.

She didn't mind. Discovery of the whole care-bot system and masquerading as a care-bot had given her the tools she needed to increasingly take charge of George's situation as it deteriorated. If anything, the whole business served to keep her occupied as the avenues of her own personal investigation ran into one roadblock and dead-end after another.

She joined Nurse Hughes in George's bedroom. At least he'd had the decency to introduce himself properly.

George chuckled. "I'd salute, sergeant, but I've got this damned needle in my arm."

Seeing as the patient was reasonable and compliant, the nurse began his inspection with the IV drip. "Twilight. What are his vital statistics?" he asked without so much as a glance in her direction.

Great, a lazy one!

Remotely querying the house system, she read out George's blood pressure and sugar levels, as well as his temperature.

"Very good. So, Mr. Rousseau. How are we feeling these days?"

"Well, we haven't been able to play the piano of late."

The nurse looked up from changing the bandage on George's arm.

"I gave it up when I was nine." George winked at the man.

The nurse looked nonplussed for a moment and then burst out laughing. "Good one!" He engaged his stethoscope’s earpieces and placed the diaphragm on George's chest. "Breath in and out deeply please, Mr. Rousseau."

He listened intently as George complied, moving the diaphragm periodically.

"Sounds like those lungs are clear!" He replaced the stethoscope around his neck. "Twilight. Log entry. Patient response to antibiotics has been nominal. No fluids or congestion in lungs detected. Removing IV tap. Nurse Jake Hughes. Timestamp."

"Log entry filed," responded Twilight.

The nurse carefully removed the needle from George's arm, then went about the next order of business briskly, testing George's reflexes, pupillary dilation and a few other neurological diagnostics with various rubber hammers, pins, and a squeeze ball. When he was done, he nodded to George.

"Well, that covers it. Looks like you're doing fine Mr. Rousseau."

George chuckled. "I must be having one of my good days! Twilight, put a star on the calendar! I didn't even have you shoot the drill sergeant!"

"Yes, George," she replied in a monotone. Then she winked, her face otherwise immobile.

The nurse looked at her uncertainly and swallowed. He was obviously not fully at ease when it can to pony-shaped care-bots!

"Well then, I'll just let myself out," said the man. "Goodbye, Mr. Rousseau."

"Goodbye, Sergeant Hughes," said Twilight deadpan. Her face tracked him until he was out of the room.

They waited until they heard the front door close. George began to chuckle. Finally abandoning her robot act, Twilight joined in. She nuzzled him lightly.

"You are having a good day, George! Feel up to a game of Cribbage?" There weren't many games George still remembered how to play, but Cribbage was one of them and Twilight had endeavored to learn it.

"I'd like that, Twilight." He grabbed his chin between his thumb and forefinger. "And maybe later you can wheel me into the kitchen and you can cook while I watch and criticize everything you do, just like Louise use to do to me."

"That would be fun, George!" said Twilight. She hesitated. "If only Clarice and Sophie were here on days like this."

George's eyebrows rose. "Sophie? Who’s that?"

It took Twilight a moment to compose herself. This was a good day nevertheless, she reminded herself.

"Someone special, George. I'm sure you'd love her. I'll show you some pictures, later."

"If you say so, Twilight."

She trotted out through the bedroom door before the tears came.

There’s so much gone!

Trying to shore up the few faded memories he had left, she'd taken to showing him pictures from his life she'd found in the closet, along with cards, notes and all the other artifacts of the life of a family. She'd been sorting and assembling them into albums in her bedroom.

Twilight entered carefully, moving between the piles of related memorabilia. On impulse, she grabbed the binders she'd made of Clarice and Sophie's lives, as well as a deck of cards and the Cribbage board. On her way out, she used the towel hanging behind the door to dry her face. She was determined to help George enjoy his good mood as long as it lasted.

---

George stared at the pictures of Sophie, his face a roil of emotions.

"The symptoms are getting worse, aren't they," he said in a low voice and closed the binder showing pictures of the grandchild he could no longer recall. "How long has it been since I had a lucid spell?"

Twilight's horn glowed as she floated the book from George's grasp. "It's been almost a month since you were last able to sit up and play cards. You caught a cold and got pneumonia, probably from that unsanitary idiot of a nurse they sent last month. I’m so glad they replaced her."

"I'm stage six, aren't I."

"George! It's not such an exact kind of –"

"– Can it, sweetie. I read up on Alzheimer's as soon as I found out my family has a history of it. I was barely a teenager, and I've been keeping up to date on it my entire life." He grinned. "How ironic is it that one of the last memories I'll lose is the identity of the disease erasing my identity!?"

"That's not even remotely funny, George, and you know it," said Twilight, her voice catching in her throat.

He reached out and took her hoof in his hand. "Sorry. That's me trying to hide my fear behind a bunch of numbskull wisecracks." His grin flashed. "Literally."

Twilight's only response was to lay her muzzle on his shoulder.

"I said I would help you get your memories back and get home," he remarked more gently. "I know that because I left a reminder in my calendar that repeats that promise every single day.

"I can feel the holes, Twilight. You try to fill them with pictures and stories, but they just fade away. I used to be so afraid of losing myself with my memories, but then you came and even with everything you lost, you're still a sweet and gentle person that I've come to love dearly. Now, even if I wonder sometimes how much more I can lose before there's nothing left, I'm not afraid anymore. I know I'll have a friend until the end. So thank you for that, too."

Twilight wouldn’t or couldn’t respond, so he stroked her mane while gathering the courage to say what needed to be said. He didn't know if he would again have the opportunity.

"I don't have long, Twilight. What are you going to do when I'm gone?"

It was a while before Twilight was able to find her voice. Her foreleg hid her eyes, but her ears lay back and the quivering of their tips telegraphed her feelings.

"I will figure something out, George. Worse-comes-to-worst I'll let your daughter in on my existence. But that's none of your concern right now."

"You will always be my concern, Twilight. You've been through so many hardships for me, it's just not fair. I'm... so sorry."

Twilight sniffled and raised her head. "Well, I'm not, George." She wiped a cannon over her eyes. "Harmony isn't about what's fair, it's about being a friend, and being a friend when it really matters is the greatest feeling in the world. For that, I have to thank you, George."

His grip on her hoof tightened.

"Twilight?"

"Yes?"

"Tell me honestly. Have we had this cheesy conversation ten times already, it's just that I keep forgetting it?"

Twilight's eyes went wide and her head popped up, ears at full attention. "WHAT! Of course not! George, this is serious!"

"Well, how would I know unless I asked?" He patted her shoulder. "And FYI, once is enough embarrassment for both of us. You said you wanted to play cards. Shall we, while I'm still me?" He grabbed the bed's controller and pushed the button that raised his back into a sitting position.

Twilight sniffed once more and wiped her eyes with her other foreleg. The pack of cards and Cribbage board levitated onto the bedsheet between them.

"This time, no mercy. ALL your bases, human!"

He grinned back at her. "Deal, alien scum!"

For two glorious hours, they played.

---

Twilight cracked open another photo album. She had set up an armchair next to George's bed in which she sat a few hours each day to entertain him when he was awake. George didn’t speak much anymore, but she could tell he enjoyed seeing the pictures, even though he rarely seemed to recognize any of the individuals depicted.

I guess he’s had enough for the day.

She watched him slowly close his eyes. Then she gingerly floated the album she’d been sharing with him onto her lap. It mostly contained items relating to Louise during the last stages of her cancer. There were letters and notes she had written while bedridden, scrawled in her messy handwriting on pages torn from notepads, on the back of get-well cards, and even some written on the backs of medical reports she'd somehow filched.

The letter in front of her was a long one she had yet to examine in any detail. Curiosity overcame her and began to read.

Dear George,

I had a strange dream last night, so I decided to write it down. I dreamt that the purple pony Sophie gave me had come to life and offered to be my friend. I said sure I would, and we started to talk and we became the best of friends just like that! And just like a good friend, she noticed there was a sadness about me, even when I laughed. She asked me what it was. I told her that I was sad because I was dying too soon, and I wouldn't be there to hold your hand when Alzheimer's came to steal your past, and I wouldn't be there to tell you that it's okay to live in the present, and to not be afraid of forgetting, and that you were still you and that you were loved. I admit I was getting a bit misty at that point, though you probably figured that out already! Anyway, the pony gave me a hug and told me not to worry because we were friends and friendship is magic.

And just like that, I felt better! When I woke up I decided to write down this dream and save it for you for when you needed it too. Now aren't you glad Sophie gave me that purple pony? I keep her close to me on my bed now because I know she's a friend, and that's magic enough for me.

I love you with all my heart,

Louise

Twilight's heart skipped a beat. Dream magic! All of a sudden, the thaumic signature, the dead-end leads, it all made sense. Somehow, she had cast this spell on herself! Finally, she had an idea of how to move forward!

She rose in a rush from the chair. The photo album clattered to the floor.

Twilight froze at the sudden noise. She looked down in shock at the book's pages splayed out on the floor, and then at George's peaceful face.

Slowly, she sat back down in the chair and floated the album into her embrace. Then she reached out a hoof and placed it into George's flaccid hand. His fingers slowly curled around her limb. She cracked the album open to Louise's letter, and began to read.