#9
Paul was familiar enough now with the room they’d stuck him into to know when someone else was in there with him, even when they were trying to be quiet.
Someone was in there with him right then, he knew. Even though they were trying to be quiet. They were very good at trying to be quiet, whoever they were, but Paul had slept lightly in enough unfamiliar places to be better at hearing those trying to be quiet.
He opened an eye, saw the big white one, and closed the eye again promptly. Too late to pretend to be asleep though, she’d seen him open his eye and he’d seen she’d seen. And she’d just know anyway. She was like that.
Point was, pointless.
“You. Why are you here?” He asked, eyes still closed.
The jig being up and there not being any further need to stay covert, Celestia walked over to the bed and sat down. Paul heard this. Hearing this was all he did. He didn’t move or open his eyes and he most certainly did not speak.
But that was okay, Celestia had an opener ready:
“It was very brave, what you did. Rash, perhaps, perhaps a bit more than rash, but brave all the same. Your heart was in the right place.”
Paul grimaced and now opened his eyes - the intended effect of what she’d said, in fact, not that he realised it. He was just appalled by such saccharinity. Hearts? In right places? Bravery? Just about everything she’d said seemed calculated to make his skin crawl.
“Eurgh. What does that mean? What is this?” He asked.
“Just a talk,” Celestia said.
“Bah, yes. But what is point? Why?”
“You of all people should know that not everything has to have a point, Paul. Some things are for their own sake. And besides, I’d say we do have at least one or two things to talk about.”
“I do not know what you are talking about,” Paul said as innocently as he could manage and with a surprisingly straight face, to boot.
“Paul,” she said. It was all she needed to say.
Paul threw his hands up.
“Eurgh. Fine, fine Yes, I make stupid mistake, fine. Everyone tell me. I know, I know! Do not need you telling me also.”
Now he knew how Cozy must have felt while he was out. And while he was awake.
“I am less interested in what you did and more interested in why you did it,” Celestia said.
“Why you so?”
“Well, I don’t think you’d have gone riding up into the snow for just about anyone, would you?” She asked. Paul grimaced.
“Hmph. No. But I am look after Cozy, yes? My re-spon-si-bil-ity, you said. I get in trouble if Cozy hurt, if Cozy do something bad. You tell me so. So, I go.”
That had been a while ago now, the warning of trouble, and the teeth had long-since fallen out of that particular threat, what with Cozy having grown far beyond the pony she’d been when it had first been made. He knew this. She knew this. Everyone knew this. And that wasn’t even the point, it was an active attempt to avoid the point. Celestia knew this, too.
“That’s not really why though, is it? You don’t care about getting in trouble, that much is obvious. You’ve told me as much. To my face, no less.”
Loudly, too. Repeatedly. And with swearing, sometimes, though mostly just for colour.
“Life difficult if get in trouble, difficult enough already,” Paul grumbled, acutely aware that his position was taking on water faster than his grumpy responses could bail it out. Celestia’s smile was the patient smile of someone who was also aware of this, and was content to let events take their natural course.
“So, in pursuit of the easy life, you decided to try and track down a teenager somewhere you’d never been before, in the snow, nearly dying for your troubles? That does sound easier than just sitting back and letting yourself get punished, something you’ve admitted doesn’t phase you all that much…” She said, tapping a hoof to her chin and nodding sensibly.
“You - “ Paul snarled, but caught himself and moderated his tone: “If I did not do, if I not get Cozy, you would try to put her in hole again.”
Celestia’s expression got very hard very, very quickly.
“We would never consider putting her in Tartarus again, and you know that,” she said without even a suggestion of a hint of the warmth all her words had had up until this point in the conversation. There was instead almost a tangible heat to them.
All notion of carrying on with this line of argument evaporated from Paul’s head at once, like a puddle drying up in the sun but one which dried up instantly and sheepishly the moment it stopped being in the shade. He knew she was telling the truth, and he knew he couldn’t deny it, even to himself and certainly not out loud. He’d known it had been a dead end when he’d said, he just hadn’t quite grasped how much of a dead end until just then.
“...I know,” he said.
He could have apologised. He did not.
Some of Celestia’s former warmth returned, and her face softened.
“So if not for fear of the consequences, then what?” She asked.
Paul looked so sour and so sullen that he could have probably curdled a pint of milk from across the room with a glance. Celestia was made of sterner stuff though, and so this just rolled off her without so much as a ripple. This was kind of the point in most conversations where Paul would have walked off had he not been bedridden. He was still giving it some serious thought regardless, but eventually decided he was too tired to try hopping away from her.
“My daughter - no, not daughter, no, forget that, I did not say that fuck, fuck. Cozy is, she is - it had to be me, my responsibility. She is my responsibility,” he said, folding his arms crossly.
Taking back what he’d said out loud hadn’t felt good. He’d had to do it, obviously, but it hadn’t felt good doing it. Not at all.
“And you certainly do take your responsibility for her very seriously, Paul. Almost dying on her account! And you were willing to be imprisoned with her too, as I recall.”
Couldn’t deny that. Paul glowered, arms still folded.
“What you want me to say?” He asked, caving at last. He was so very tired.
“Just to be honest.”
“Honest? What about honest?”
“About Cozy. You did call her your daughter.”
Paul winced.
“Nevermind. Slipped out. Mistake. Not daughter. Horse.”
“You say that but I can tell you don’t mean that, and that you didn’t like saying it.”
He had not liked denying it. Hadn’t expected not to like it but really hadn’t. Felt like he was doing wrong by Cozy by denying it, and this just irritated him. Horse for a daughter indeed...
“Why would I talk to you about this? Not even talk to Cozy about this.”
“Because I’m such a good listener,” she said, smiling sweetly.
“Hah! Good listener! Sure, sure.”
“It’s what they tell me,” she said, smile just as sweet and maybe a fraction of an inch wider than before.
Paul continued to be sullen and sour with his arms folded, but he could tell this conversation wasn’t going to be going his way anytime soon. That there was a conversation at all told him he was already losing. He glared at her and she smiled back. He sighed.
Talking was probably the best way of getting her to go away.
“Fine, fine. If it make you go away, I talk. Damn horses,” he said, shifting about in bed and sitting up a bit straighter. Celestia said nothing, just starting up her famously good listening. Paul eyed her suspiciously for a moment before sighing again and then, after another moment to gather his thoughts, saying:
“Do not tell Cozy this but I always had, ah, soft spot. For children, I mean. Do not know why. Did not see many because was always being moved, always working, but when I did I always tried to help, if they need help. Give some food or whatever, you know? Money. Felt I should. Others made fun of me for it, but that was okay. The children did not ask for what had happened to them, you know? I only saw the children who needed help, but that was the work, never peaceful where I was made to go. See children who lost things, always lost things. Lost parents, lost homes, lost - lost bits.”
Celestia really was a good listener. The best kind of listener, in fact - the kind that sat there quietly and made you keep talking without even fully realising it, who got you to go into depth without feeling all that self-conscious about it.
This was not a subject that Paul had really expected to get onto ever in his life with anyone, let alone get into, let alone with someone like her, and he realised only belatedly that he’d really wandered into a level of detail that was starting to make him remember some things he’d prefer remained forgotten.
“Are you alright, Paul?” Celestia asked, as Paul appeared to have stalled. On hearing her he started and blinked, licking his lips.
“Fine, fine. Nothing. All happened.”
“If you’re-”
“Nothing, nothing, fine. Do not distract me, was going somewhere, had point. Ah, you have child? Children?” He asked. A flicker passed across her face, and that it had been enough of a flicker to appear at all spoke volumes as to the feelings behind the flicker. Nothing of that slipped out though. Once the flicker disappeared it was like it had never happened at all.
“Me? In a manner of speaking, but probably not in the way you’re asking.”
Paul wasn’t in the mood to probe into that, and Celestia hadn’t expected him to anyway.
“I do not. Did not. Helped children when I could but never saw them again, that was fine, just life. But now I - Cozy was tiny horse criminal, force her way into my life. I help her for a joke, at first, know she is using me, whatever. We talk, we talk. You saw what happened at end. Then she is stuck with me to look after her. And she is still tiny horse but she is also…” Paul tailed off.
He frowned.
“She is…”
Paul groped the air in irritation, fishing for the right words.
“Special child. Clever child. Funny child. Important. Does not need my help but needs, ah, help. Needed help. But not sort of help I used to give, you know? Not food or money or anything. Something else. Like, ah, stah-bil-a-tee, maybe? I do my best but I am just old man, do not think my best is that good. I try. Want her to - to - “
He frowned some more, swept his hands away from himself, like brushing away dust.
“Do well, yes? Do well in life. Whatever she wants to do. If not stupid, ob-vi-ous-ly. But what makes child happy, I want her to do. Make friends, be happy, do better.”
“Better than she was?” Celestia asked with calculated softness and delicacy.
Meticulously planned attempts to gain power while also maybe inadvertently possibly destroying the world in the process set kind of a low bar. Anything would be an improvement over that, really. Paul knew this. He frowned some more, mostly at the obviousness of the softness and delicacy.
“Yes, yes. Better than stupid Cozy from before, yes. Better than Cozy with stupid plans. But better than me, also. Better than old man made to look after her. Better, better. Child is very smart, can do very well. Hope she does.”
Paul went quiet then, but not the sort of quiet of one who has finished talking, more the sort of quiet of one who has something else to say but is unsure of how to say it. It was written on his face. He’d halted, and Celestia gave him the time and space to get going again.
He was staring at his hands.
“I do - I do not think I will be around. To see her when she is happy, later. A little bit, I think, but I will be gone before too long, I think.”
“The doctors say you’ll make a full recovery.”
Paul grunted and waved this away.
“Hmph. Full recovery to old, dying man is still old, dying man. I do not mind, knew I would not last long. Did not expect to last this long. Know others who did not last this long. Many others. Life was unkind, does not matter. It never mattered to me, much. Did not have anything that I would miss. But now - I worry, a little.”
He swallowed loudly and was quiet again for a longer stretch than the last one.
Then:
“I think - I think about what Cozy might do, later, when she is older. Things a child does, yes? Things I think a child does. Things I would see her do. See her grow up. Have already seen her grow so much! More to go, more growing. See her leave my - leave our home, find place of her own. Get to see her find job! Something she cares about, maybe. Or project, or whatever. Something exciting for her. Something she cares about. Get to hear her talk and talk and talk about it and nod and pretend to understand. See how, uh, pash-on-nate she is about it. Things like that. Find, uh, other person, you know? Not, you know, a friend but, uh, special person. Maybe, maybe. My dau- my daughter get married, maybe? If she wants, if that makes her happy. Or not, whatever she wants, as long as she is happy. You know? Maybe get d-d-daughter of her own, maybe? Child? Maybe, if she wants, I don’t know. These things, these things - the things that happen in a life, you know? The things we go through on our own or - o-or wanted to go through but now - but now get to see our children go through, yes? You know? And I think - I think I will maybe not see them, with Cozy. That I will not be here to see them. And I do not like that. I w-want to see them.”
Paul sniffed and wiped his nose on the back of his arm.
“Stupid. Selfish, stupid. Cozy will be fine, that is what matters. Cozy will be fine, happy. Smart child. Will be fine. Better than fine. Has friends, good friends. Smart child, do good. I am sure,” he said, sniffing again, nodding and then adding, as an afterthought: “Really should make will, hmm.”
Then at least she could get the house. Had to have some scrap value in the building and the plot of land itself was probably worth something, so close to the big city and all that. Should set her up nicely when the time came, give her something to work with.
“You should stop thinking about that so much, at least right now. You’re safe and you’ll be around for years yet, I’m sure of it. You’ll likely outlive us all, if you wanted to. You seem the sort,” Celestia said.
“Hah, says you.”
“Maybe stop worrying about what you might miss later and think more about what you get to enjoy with her right now?” She suggested, gently.
Paul narrowed his eyes.
“Do not try and inspire me, horse. It will not work,” he growled, settling back into the cushions and staring angrily at the ceiling.
“Well, I’ll keep trying anyway. One day I might even get you to smile. That alone would be worth it.”
He looked at her sideways and put particular effort into making his face as grumpy as possible as she sank deeper into the covers and shuffled lower in the bed.
“Strange horse,” he grumbled.
This was were there would usually be a pause in the conversation but Celestia had seen this coming and just carried right on, not letting the momentum die:
“If it makes you feel any better I asked Cozy more-or-less the same sort of questions,” she said, and on a questioning look from Paul she continued: “About why she decided to go rushing off like she did, her motivations, that sort of thing. She was a lot more open about it than you were, but that’s hardly surprising.”
This presumably having happened at some point while Paul was either asleep or indisposed. Not that it really mattered. It was unlikely she’d lie about it, and even if she was it still hardly mattered. It wasn’t a conversation he’d been involved in and it had happened elsewhere.
“Because she is impulsive, silly child?” Paul suggested.
“That might be one way of looking at it, though that seems a bit unkind to me. Much as with you her heart was in the right place, if perhaps her head was not. We’re all liable to make mistakes sometimes. Perhaps even more so when one we care about is concerned.”
“Hmph.”
“And I don’t know whether you know this or not but I think you need to hear it: Cozy does care about you, your wellbeing, and she does love you and wants you to keep being around.”
“Yes yes yes, sure.”
“It’s true. And it’s something that you should take seriously, Paul.”
He did hate the habit of tacking a name onto the end of a sentence to make sure someone was paying attention. He did it to Cozy, specifically because he knew she probably hated it, too. Having it deployed against him was irritating.
“Why?” He asked. He could guess why, but he wanted to hear whatever the horse reason apparently was. Something fluffy and stupid, he expected. Maybe something to do with friendship. Wouldn’t surprise him.
Celestia certainly seemed happy to have been given the chance to keep talking.
“Because she loves you and she is happier with you having been in her life and she is going to be happier with you staying in her life. And you should remember that you did that, and that’s important. Important to me, at least, though what matters to me really isn’t the issue here. Call me selfish though, but I’d prefer to have Cozy - and you, Paul - continue to be happy.”
That particular line, the one about him having had some part in Cozy’s life improving, made Paul extremely uncomfortable for reasons he couldn’t even begin to fathom. He shifted in the bed, practically squirming.
“Did not do anything, just was,” he said.
“And that was enough.”
He glared at her but she just smiled back at him and the smile was so genuine and warm he couldn’t really come up with anything to say in response, or at least nothing good. Anything he might have said just sort of dried up in the warmth.
“Eurgh. Horses,” he mumbled, hunkering down again, annoyed that he wasn’t as annoyed as he should have been.
All this mushy mumbo-jumbo made his head hurt. He hadn’t done anything special, he’d just done what he’d had to do, that was all. Anyone could have done that. Just because he was the one who had didn’t mean anything. There wasn’t anything special about him.
Dying alone would have been simpler than all of this.
Not an option now, of course. Would he have it back again, now? Given the choice somehow? Magically get the option to go back to how things were before Cozy had inserted herself into his affairs and his life? Would he take the chance to be able to leave quietly, like he’d planned? Like he’d been waiting for?
...no, he realised. He didn’t want that anymore. He most certainly had wanted it before. Had been rather looking forward to it, actually, as much as he might have been said to look forward to anything, but not anymore.
Life without his Cozy seemed unbearably quiet and lonely, and for the first time in a while this actually mattered to him. Damn child.
“Cozy sleeping?” He asked, glancing to the door of his room.
“Yes,” Celestia said.
Sleeping under a blanket on a bench just outside the room, in fact, with a direct eyeline from that spot through the door to Paul’s bed. They’d offered her all sorts of alternative accommodation - some just in comfier spots in the hospital itself - but she’d refused to be moved. Had there been anything to sleep on in his room she’d have been sleeping on that, but there wasn’t. She’d been the one to drag the bench in front of the door, too. If it could have fitted through the door it would have been in the room.
And the only reason the door was closed now was because she was asleep and so hadn’t been able to stop Celestia doing it for her talk with Paul.
“Hmph. Good. Sleep good,” Paul said, nodding. He’d been concerned about Cozy wearing herself out. Celestia nodded as well, she having shared these concerns.
“It is. She’s had a tiring few days,” she said.
“You are telling me!” Paul said with full-throated earnestness, getting a proper laugh out of Celestia in the process. So unexpected - and so pleasant, whatever he might have thought of her otherwise - was this that Paul didn’t even manage to fix her with a look of hostility.
“I still do not like you,” he said afterwards, as if making up for this.
“That’s okay, Paul. I like you,” Celestia said.
“Hmph.”
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Hopefully Paul is alive enough to see all that for Cozy life. Rather it’s seeing her new home, her first date (more like going to kill date), walking down with her for the wedding, seeing his first grandsmall horse child?
Paul is a stubborn man. But hey it would be funny if he lived all the way till the new MLP series with the pegasus sisters since they could be related to Cozy
Now I'm just waiting for the hammer to drop.
"Now, Paul, I have some forms I'd like you to sign, in regards to Cozy, your yet unofficial daughter..."
11153829
You know, anything so formal hadn't even crossed my mind...
'Cause you're their
benevolent dictatorboss?11153848
They better uphold her reputation as a good listener if they know what's good for them.
11153728
That'd be living some way!
You're my favorite fanfic author
11153933
Aww shucks!
I'm less sure. Once a draconian purist, almost always a draconian purist.
11153529
Honestly I'm not. Cozy Glow is just too darn baby faced to not be cute. Even when she's being a grumpy filly.
11153986
Obviously I agree or else this whole thing wouldn't be here...
11153985
I like to think all concerned have had time to dwell on their mistakes. And I'm biased.
Celestia knows what needs to happen: Paul has to reach his true potential as the Prince of Grumpiness. That's why she's determined to give him as many chances as possible to snark at her.
11154021
I'm down with that theory.
11153995
We all have our biases.
11153995
more like based
Aw man Paul going off about wanting to see her grow up made me cry. I'm a sucker for stuff like this
11194956
His speech here is basically the whole point of the story and was sat, written, for over a year, I think.
11194956
Y no sos el único.