One Bolt, A World Displaced

by Boltsinger

Confrontation

Boltsinger looked cautiously at the phone in his hands. It had Brightling’s name on it with a green icon underneath, as Sunset had set up. He closed his eyes, bringing his thumb down on the screen and raised the phone to his ear. After a series of buzzing rings, a tenor voice sounded in his ear. “Hello?”

“Hey, Brightling! It’s Bolt.” he greeted. “How was your weekend?”

“Tiring…” Brightling replied. “What’s up? You wanting to come over today?”

“Eeyup.” he confirmed. “Actually… I’m wanting to talk with Mom today, if that’s okay.”

The sound of clamoring came from Brightling’s end. “You sure? You think she can handle that?”

“She’s gotta find out eventually.” He reasoned. “And, besides, I’ve missed her.”

“Okay, little brother. Just let me know when you’re ready.” Brightling told him.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. My friends have transportation covered.” Boltsinger assured.

Brightling let out a contented laugh. “Friends… Never thought I’d believe it when you said that word. Okay, I’ll see you later.”

“Eeyup. Later.” he repeated, moving the phone away from his ear and pressing the red icon. “Okay. Visit set for today.”

Sunset plucked the phone from his hands, pocketing it and sitting on the couch next to him. “Cool. And I’ve got a response from my latest message to Twilight.”

Boltsinger perked up considerably, looking brightly at her. “Oh? How did the opening go?”

“Well, the funny thing is… The one who replied was Spike.” she stated.

Boltsinger blinked a few times. “Spike?”

“Spike.” she affirmed, bringing forward and opening the book. “Apparently the school’s opening and first few days didn’t go all that well. Something about trying too hard to meet with approval.”

“Yeah, I saw that crash a mile away.” he deadpanned. “Pillow fort?”

Sunset nodded. “Pillow fort.”

Sunset and Boltsinger both let out a knowing sigh, leaning back into the chair. “I’m gonna have a heck of a story to tell everypony, aren’t I?”

“It’s no weirder than any of the things we dealt with when Twilight was here.” she told him, patting him on the shoulder. “Just a different friend along for the ride.”

Boltsinger slowly stood up, pulling his jacket on. “Well, we should probably call everyone else. I want all of you along for this.”

“What are you planning?” she wondered.

“Honestly? I don’t know.” he admitted, opening the door. “I just know that I’d be able to handle it better with my friends there." Sunset let a warm smile slip onto her face as she raised her phone.

---

“I know we’re going for another reason, but I’m really excited to meet Gusty Gale!” Twilight declared, looking out the window of the tour bus. “I have so many questions on meteorology! Do you think she’ll sign my weather notebook? Or would that be asking too much?”

“If she’s anything like my mom was back in Equestria, I’m sure she’d be happy to oblige.” Boltsinger assured her. “She was always as friendly as they come… Or at least that’s how I remember her.”

Rarity let a small smile onto her face as she checked herself in her mirror. “She sounds wonderful, darling. But, I wouldn’t expect much. She just lost her child, after all.”

Fluttershy took a look out the window, drawing circles on the glass with her finger. “It’s been a whole month, though, hasn’t it?”

“I’m not sure if a month is enough fer a loss like that one.” Applejack argued, her eyes unmoving from the road ahead as their destination came into view.

“Applejack has a good point.” Twilight stated, pulling another book from her backpack. “According to this, there are five stages of grief. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. How much time somebody will spend in each stage varies based on their connection with the deceased. With a mother losing her child… That could be a really long time…”

“I think we’re going to find out just where she’s at soon.” Sunset said, the tour bus coming to a stop. She stood up, turning to her friends. “Is everyone ready?” Everybody on the bus immediately nodded, Spike jumping back into Twilight’s backpack. “Then let’s go.”

As they left the bus, Boltsinger leaned over to Spike. “You’ve got the thing you found last night, right? You can get the scent?”

“Of course!” the canine confirmed, pointing to the scrap of cloth stashed under his collar. “Just say the word!”

---

The door to the house creaked open, Boltsinger stepping inside. He looked around the living room, taking in the nostalgia as he waved his companions in. “Welcome, ladies, to… um… ‘my’ house.”

Rainbow Dash strolled around the room with Pinkie and Rarity following closely. They eyed the photos in the room, sometimes snickering to each other at some of the less dignified moments. “This is a lovely home, Boltsinger. I have to admit I’m a little envious.” Rarity admitted, looking back at him.

The sound of stomping came down the stairs, Brightling quickly appearing in the room and looking at the rather large number of guests. “So… You brought all of your friends, huh?”

“Eeyup!” Boltsinger replied, beaming. “I wanted to show them around! Not to mention, Twilight is really excited to meet Mom!”

“Do they all want to meet her?” he wondered, pointing his finger between the lot of them.

Boltsinger nodded firmly, pointing to his purple-haired friend. “Preferably, but it’s mostly Twilight.”

Brightling gave the girls an awkward smile. “Okay… Well, Mom is in her room. I’ll… show your friends around.”

“Awesome.” he replied, turning to Twilight. “You ladies make yourselves at home.” He walked past his brother, patting him on the shoulder as he ascended the stairs. He proceeded down the hallway, placing his hand on each of the doors he passed until he reached one with sound coming from inside.

“A sunny day come Wednesday… But it looks like there’s some high winds coming in…” an alto voice rambled on. The tone rang familiar in Boltsinger’s ears, sending images into his mind of his days as a colt, long before the scattered memories of his foalhood, where he knew there were at least two loving faces he could always rely on. He placed his hand on the door, letting it slide down until he balled his fingers up into a fist, turning it around and rapping the wood. “Yes? What is it, Brightling?”

Boltsinger brought his hands together on either side of his face, psyching himself out as best he could. His hand returned to the door as he found his words, taking a deep breath. “It’s… um… It’s not Brightling, Mom.”

From the inside of the room, Boltsinger could hear a chair scooting back, followed by quick, thundering footsteps that came ever-closer. Finally, the doorknob turned, swinging the entryway open to reveal a woman who stood nearly as tall as Boltsinger himself, with the same skin color. She had bobbed, dirt-brown hair, and wore a professional-looking business suit with the jacket draped over the chair behind her. She had a look of shock and awe on her face, like all of her dreams had come true. “Bolt…? My little Bolt?!” She brought her hand up to his face, slowly caressing his cheek. “Have you really come back to me?”

Boltsinger found himself lost in his emotions. Equine or otherwise, the voice and features before him were undoubtedly those of his mother, Gusty Gale. He brought his hand up, placing it on hers. “Hi…” he said, letting a stray tear erupt from his eye.

Gusty reached forward, pulling herself in for a warm embrace in which she repeatedly rubbed his back, as if to check and see if he was truly there. “It’s really you…! My little Boltsinger!” she cried, bringing forth the sobs of a mother awash with joy. “I thought you’d never come back…! You were out in that storm… Then that lightning… That lightning…! Oh, my little boy! My little Bolt!”

Boltsinger’s arms wrapped around her, squeezing as tightly as he could. He had gotten used to hugs over the years, but this… This was something special. A good embrace was always wonderful, but nothing in the world could ever compare to the unconditional love of a parent, and the embrace that came with it. He reveled in it, gently rubbing her back and leaning into her. “I’ve… really missed you, Mom! It felt like forever! I’m so… so sorry for everything I’ve done… Everything I put you through…!”

“It’s alright, Bolt… I’m just so happy you’re--” She gave pause, pulling back to look at him. “Everything you’ve done? Sweetie, what are you talking about? You haven’t done anything wrong!”

Boltsinger wiped his eyes, looking earnestly at her. “I know… I just… I couldn’t help myself. There’s something I need to talk to you about…”

Gusty smiled, putting her full attention on the purple orbs in front of her. “You can talk to me about anything, dear. Just say the wor--” She trailed off. As she peered deeper into her son’s eyes, there was something missing. He didn’t have the sense of belonging she was used to seeing. He had a level of experience that one his age couldn’t possibly have, and the maturity to match. “You… are my son, aren’t you?”

Boltsinger guided her into the bedroom, letting her sit on the bed while he sat in the chair. “Yes and no.” he answered. “I’m Boltsinger, but… not the one you know. But, I guess you can already tell, huh?”

“I thought so…” she stated, letting out a staggering breath. “A mother knows when she’s looking into her son’s eyes… He’s really gone, isn’t he?”

“I’m afraid so…” he confirmed. “I wish I didn’t have to make you relive your loss, but… Truth is, I wanted to see you no matter what. Because… Well… You may not be the one that I knew, but you’re still Gusty Gale, my mom!” He reached forward, making sure to not make contact. “And just hearing your voice made me miss her so much... “ He slapped his face again, snapping himself from his reverence. “And I need to talk to you about something! A-A lot of things! But this one has to come first!”

The motherly meteorologist calmed her breathing, looking at the seriousness of his expression. “I’ll tell you whatever you need, son.”

A relieved sigh came out of the panicky performer, who looked at her with renewed vigor. “What can you tell me about… well… when you lost your son?”

Gusty closed her eyes, letting her reverence be known as she gathered her thoughts. She slowly opened her eyes, looking straight at the boy that resembled her child. “Life for Boltsinger..." She paused, giving him a weak smile. "... For my Boltsinger... It was… interesting.”

---

Brightling sat in a chair in the living room, looking cautiously at Sunset, Twilight, Rarity, Fluttershy, Pinkie, Rainbow, and Applejack as they talked quietly amongst themselves. “So… What have you girls been up to lately?”

“Not much.” Sunset replied. “We had an interesting night, last night.”

Brightling cocked an eyebrow, leaning in. “Oh? What did you do?”

“We chased down a shadowy figure that was--” Pinkie found herself muffled by Rainbow’s hand.

“We did some running. It was harder for some than for others.” Rainbow trailed off, pulling Pinkie aside. “Careful, Pinkie. We don’t wanna be too obvious about it!” Pinkie nodded, giving a muffled sound of understanding.

“How about you?” Sunset started, approaching Brightling. “Do anything… interesting last night?”

“Sparks and I had a date. It was good.” he told them, rising from his seat. “Come on, I did say I would show your friends around.” He placed his hand on Sunset’s shoulder, causing her eyes to turn white with a sharp inhale.

---

Boltsinger had grown up without much in the way of interaction with other people. Like his Equestrian counterpart, he found himself alone, as often of his own volition as due to circumstance. He found solace in the internet, spending his days utilizing his musical talents on his computer. One would never see him without a pair of headphones coupled with some electronic device beyond his typical phone. Often times he would find people to talk to online, creating arrangements and connections that extended far past the confines of his room.

And Brightling was having none of it. He was of a mind to say that they can’t be a friend if you can’t reach out and touch them. “Why don’t you just talk with the people at school?” He would ask.

“That would require them wanting anything to do with me.” was Boltsinger’s typical answer.

The more he heard the answer, the more his resentment built up. For years, he would hear his younger brother in his room, laughing like he was in a large group. Every time he opened the door, though, he would be alone.

When Boltsinger and his distant friends released their first self-published album, Gusty had swelled up with pride. She presented him with a white crystal pendant in the shape of a lightning bolt. Upon receiving it, it never left his neck, much to his brother’s chagrin. He doubled down on his seclusion, earning a level of resentment from his elder brother. The brothers continued to argue about the merits of his activities, always with the same answers. Finally, it all came to a boil when the thunder rolled in.

Brightling swung the door to Boltsinger’s room open wide, spotting his brother sitting in his chair moping. The computer had been turned off, for fear of a power surge, and he found himself with little to do. “What are you doing in here? Get out of this room and join your family!”

Boltsinger tightly gripped the sides of his chair, turning his gaze to his sibling. “Why? So you can complain about me some more?”

Brightling let out a low growl, forcefully grabbing Boltsinger’s arm and pulling him out of the room, down the stairs and into the living room. “I wouldn't have to complain if you actually went out and did something!”

“Have you even listened to what my friends and I have done?!” Boltsinger argued, pulling a CD player from his pocket. “I do plenty! You just don’t care because it’s not on your terms!”

“Boys, stop it!” Gusty commanded, stepping up to her sons. “You argue about this every other day!”

“No, Mom, I can’t let this keep going anymore!” Brightling countered, stomping in Boltsinger’s direction. “Did you ever stop to think that maybe I want you to do things on my terms because I know that you can do well that way? You’re a talented kid, Bolt! Why don't you show that to the people around you?!”

Boltsinger growled back at his brother, clenching his fist and stomping in kind. “Don’t you think I’ve tried that?! Nobody at school cares!” He swung his arm toward the door, pointing at the outside world as lightning struck beyond the window. “No one in this town has ever been able to appreciate what I have to offer! Not like the people out there have!”

“Out there… Out there… OUT THERE! That’s all you care about!” Brightling grabbed his brother by his shirt collar, lifting him off the floor. “You want to go out there so much? Fine!” He dragged him to the door, throwing it open to let the harsh wind and rain blow its way inside.

Gusty ran to her oldest son, pulling on his shoulders in an attempt to get his attention. “Brightling, stop it! This isn’t the way to resolve this!”

Brighting paid his mother no mind, pulling the object of his resentment along to the front steps. “GO OUT THERE!!!” He picked Boltsinger up again, tossing him with all of his might into the storm. “And don’t come back!” He walked back inside, slamming and locking the door behind him.

Gusty met her son at the entrance, giving him a disapproving stare that sent a chill down his spine. She slapped him on the cheek as hard as she could, sending him reeling towards the wall next to him as she made her way to the door. The sound of thunder rolled through the house again, making the presence of nearby lightning known. She shifted her expression to one of concern as she grabbed the doorknob, scrambling to unlock the door. The thunder rolled again, lasting several seconds as the lock came undone. Gusty pulled the door open, running outside to see her son standing there, looking back at the house, the rain hiding the true nature of his intense expression. She kept going, reaching out, all the while minding the sky.

It was that moment that things took a turn for the worse as time itself seemed to slow. A bright yellow light shone from the cloud above Boltsinger, unleashing a bolt of electricity that careened toward the boy below. Gusty kept moving, picking up her pace in desperation. All was in vain, though, as the lightning hit home.

The storm had passed. Gusty’s cries could be heard at full volume all through the house, and Brightling sat in the living room, his face totally blank. Dangling from his hand was the pendant his brother never removed, which let out a constant crackle of yellow electricity. His silence spoke volumes, making the air itself thicken from the emotions swirling around. He brought his hands together, placing the lightning-covered lightning bolt between his palms, sending a jolt into his arms as he brought it up to his face. Finally, letting the realization set in, he took a heavy breath, adding to the cries his mother created.

---

Sunset’s vision continued, showing her images of a funeral, the sorrowful faces of a mother and brother standing over a casket. Another image came, where a black-cloaked figure held out the crackling pendant in front of the gravestone, a spark of electricity arcing between it and the headstone with the words ‘BRING HIM BACK’ repeating themselves and drowning out all sound. The images increased in speed, always showing the figure in front of the grave, a spark of lightning illuminating the memorial and creating a bright yellow pulse of magic, up to the point where she saw the Boltsinger that she knew standing in the mall. She twisted her body around, pulling herself away from Brightling, glaring daggers at him.

“You… You were there last night!” she exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at him.

Brightling recoiled, raising his arm defensively. “What are you talking about?”

Sunset scowled, taking a step closer. “At the cemetery! You were the one at his grave!”

“Wait, it was him?” Twilight asked. “How do you know?”

Brightling narrowed his eyes, clenching his fists and standing tall over Sunset. “Good question…”

“Because you’re not the only one with access to magic, and mine just showed me your memories!” she exclaimed, meeting his gaze with a challenging one of her own. “You’ve been trying to bring your brother back!”

“Bring him back?” an alto voice repeated. All eyes in the room fell upon the source, Gusty Gale, standing at the base of the stairs with Boltsinger behind her. “What do you mean, ‘bring him back’?”

Brightling took a deep breath, an intense look forming on his face. “Okay, fine! I’m guilty!” he shouted, proceeding to point at Boltsinger. “But it worked! I thought that spark was some kind of magic, and I was right! It worked perfectly!” He moved past his mother, putting his hands on the bluenette’s shoulders with a crooked smile. “You’re alive again! You don’t have all of your memories, but you’re alive! That’s the most important thing!”

“Brightling…” Boltsinger started, putting his hand on the older boy’s wrist.

“If I just keep doing that thing with the magic each night… It’ll get your memories back, too!”

“Brightling!” Boltsinger repeated, increasing his volume.

“And then you can do stuff with your real, real live friends!” Brightling continued, letting go and nudging him. “Maybe hook up with one of them? That’d be pretty sweet!”

“BRIGHTLING!!!” he shouted, reaching a volume that shook the house.

The brother in question stopped, turning to face him. “Yeah, bro?”

Boltsinger slapped his own face again, looking sternly into his eyes. “I know this is going to be hard for you to accept, but… I’m not your brother.”

“What?! Of course you are!” he argued, running his hand through Boltsinger’s hair. “You are, unmistakably, Bolt! Nobody else has this kind of mess!”

Boltsinger caught Brightling’s wrist, moving his hand aside. “Okay, yes, I am Boltsinger. But I’m not your brother!” He brought his hand up to his chest, clenching his fist. “Heck, I normally don’t even look like this! I’m not from here!”

Brightling took several steps back, shaking his head. “No… No… No! It has to be you! It just has to be!”

“No, son. It really isn’t.” Gusty confirmed, reaching for him. “You can’t keep denying it!”

“NO!!!” he yelled, slapping her hands away, a trail of yellow lightning following his movements. “I’ll prove that it’s really him!” He ran to the door, turning to look back at them one more time. “I’ll prove it to all of you!” He slammed the door, a jolt of electricity showing out the window as the engine of his car revved to life.

Author's Note:

Strangely enough, the easiest part of this for me to write was that flashback. As you might already know, I have a hard time justifying flashbacks like that unless I can contextualize it well. I think having it come from two simultaneous perspectives helped in that regard.
Admittedly, that brotherly resentment is a bit of venting on my part. Families are hard, and this was a good way to cope and add to the story at the same time.
If you've seen EqG stuff before, I'm willing to bet you know what's next. I hope you like it!

Comments

[Bumblebee16]

whoa

[blaukit]

Gaga

[Zapper Frost]

Que the transformation