> Dashed Expectations
>  by Gurumane
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Chapter 1
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alan Aleric was hiking, humming merry tunes to himself as he walked along and occasionally breaking out into song.  Normally he enjoyed hikes, and this day was no different; today, however, he hiked alone.  Yes, you read that correctly, alone, how cliche.  In any case, he walked through the woods along a trail that wound its way before him; around trees and large boulders, over roots and small streams.  It continued seemingly forever, but Alan was a smart fellow and knew that it did not, in fact, continue forever, as all good things come to an end.  Besides,what kind of person would want to go on an eternal hike, a hippie?  OK, maybe a hippie, but that’s not important. What is important is that Alan was hiking, that he was hiking on a long trail in the woods, and that he was hiking alone.  Generally, Alan would go on hikes with his family, but today was different, today his family went to see a movie.  Normally, he would have joined them, but it was what he deemed a very cheesy movie of little note and value.  Therefore, as a headstrong, stubborn, and egotistical male, he refused to go.  On the other hand, this left him with very little to do.  If he had stayed at home, not only would he have started to second guess himself, but also contend with the accusations of his little sister, who would nag him about being a lazy bum.  She would have been partly right, as he did spend an abnormal amount of time in front of the computer.  

As the sun shone softly down in shaded patterns on the forest floor about the path, Alan noticed something odd about the forest: it was becoming increasingly wild and tangled as he moved along.  He had walked this path many times, but he didn’t remember this portion.  Oh well, he thought, slightly puzzled, maybe I just wasn’t paying attention before. Besides, it just makes the walk more interesting.  So he continued walking and humming.  All around him the forest and vegetation gradually grew thicker and closer.  Where the trees had before been widely spaced and the sun dappling the ground below through their leafy canopies, here, they grew thick and dark, casting the ground below into eternal twilight.

Alan glanced at his watch.  He still had plenty of time.  Beside, he loved thick forests, so he felt no need to turn back.  As the birds and general forest chatter grew distant, it came to be that the only sounds to be heard were the crunch of footsteps on the path, the tap-tapping of his walking stick upon the ground, and the occasional creaking tree limbs far above in the gloom.  Alan found it peaceful, but in nature, peace is often deceptive.  Aware of that fact, he stayed alert.  Yet never did the trail stop, nor ever seem to disappear. It just kept going.  Alan checked his watch once more; he still had plenty of time, so he pressed onwards down the trail.

After about ten minutes, the trees abruptly began to thin and the ground began to slope gently down.  Through the rapidly thinning trees the babbling of a brook could be heard, the gloomy twilight of the path behind was replaced once more by the velvet shadows one would expect to find on a forest floor once again.  The trees continued to thin until, suddenly, they stopped altogether, opening into a wide grassy meadow.  Alan’s breath caught in wonder.  It was simply beautiful. Off to one side and further down the slope ran a small stream, and nearer to him were some wide, flat boulders partly-covered in moss.  This is the perfect place to camp, thought Alan, I’ll have to come back here at some time or another.  It’s at least twe… no, that’s WAY too overused.  After standing there enthralled by the gorgeous scenery for what must have been quite a while, Alan checked his watch. It was now sadly time to go.  He took one last look at the meadow before turning back once more onto the forest path, whistling Smile to himself.





A couple weeks later, Alan was hiking the trail once again.  That meadow had waited long enough for him, and he for it.  He was going to camp in it at last.  As he passed through the denser portion of the forest, he wondered how he had missed the fork in the trail the last hundred times he’d walked it.  It even had a sign next to it for crying out loud, although it was rather overgrown and faded, but still, it was a blooming sign.  The trail was even on the park service map.  Alan felt rather stupid for missing it so many times before; that meadow was an awesome place to camp, and he loved camping.  Oh well, he thought, at least I found it this time.  

Before he knew it, Alan was once more in the meadow.  It was exactly how he remembered it from his discovery: the rocks, the stream, the moss.  Everything was perfect, thought Alan as he strolled through the tall grass, although I’ll have to check myself for ticks later.  He grimaced in disgust at that last thought, having pulled one too many ticks off his pet cat.  If the neighbors would just mow their darn grass...*sigh*.  Alan set up his campsite and went off to find some suitable firewood.

It took a bit to get the fire going, but it was worth it in the end.  As the summer sun dipped below the horizon, the swiftly cooling mountain air was warded out by the warmth of the flames.  As in most forests, it was not particularly hard to find good firewood, and Alan had a reasonable stack of it within reach as he sat beside his small inferno.  He had chosen his campsite between two levels of the large flat rocks which covered much of the landscape of the meadow: the back of the tent was against the face of one and sat on the small and gentle slope between the rock the tent abutted and the flat surface of the rock below, on which Alan had lit his campfire.  At present, Alan was trying, rather unsuccessfully I might add, to read a book and roast hot dogs at the same time.  Every time he neglected to read, he felt annoyed because it was well written, but every time he became engrossed in the book, he burned the hot dogs.  After burning three in a row, Alan sighed and put down his tome.  Physical feeding preceded mental feeding on his priority list.  Besides, they do not take long to cook over a campfire, and soon Alan was contentedly reading his book with a full stomach, enjoying the results of his compromise.  

Alan looked up from his book and glanced at his watch. It was getting late.  He was going to need the energy of a full night’s rest if he wanted to go exploring tomorrow.  Setting down the book, Alan looked up at the stars beginning to pepper the night sky.  It really was a lovely night.  The stars... those wondrous guardians of the night were shining with purer and stronger light than in the city.  Such things drew Alan to hiking; although part of it was the exercise, it was mostly the removal from all the concerns and cares of society.  That and the quiet. Alan loved the peace and quiet.  He avoided large gatherings of people, preferring to mingle with a smaller, more tight knit group of friends.  





*Clank!*  *Snuffle!* *snuffle!*

Alan awoke with a start as the tent shook,  sitting straight up and smacking his head against one of the poles.  He was too frightened and frustrated to notice.  He of course immediately realized what he had done, what beginner mistake had been made.  He had forgotten to put his food up a tree like any responsible hiker would.  He mentally cursed himself for a fool.  He just hoped whatever was eating his pack didn’t think to look inside the tent and eat him.  He waited, praying and terrified, in the tent for the next half hour as the shuffling, rending, and clanking of his belongings being ripped apart continued.  

When the noises stopped, Alan waited until he was sure whatever had made a chew toy of his backpack had left, thankful that he was ignored, then unzipped the tent flap and cautiously crawled outside to survey the damage.  His backpack was almost a total loss: ripped apart in multiple places, its contents strewn over much of the nearby landscape like so much garbage by the side of the road.  What little food was left was scattered and trampled into the ground, save for the protein bars (apparently nothing likes those, no matter how hungry).  He gathered up the remains of his camping gear and found a coil of rope that had somehow escaped the carnage and walked over to the tree line; he didn’t want a repeat of earlier.  Once he had hastily hoisted his meager gear up between the trunks of a pair of pines, he stood back in the moonlight to admire his handiwork, then facepalmed for not having remembered to do so earlier.  Now he didn’t have enough supplies to last the next few days like he had hoped, plus his gear was ruined.  At least I’m still alive, he thought as he turned around to head back to his tent.  Then he saw the bear cub bouncing across the meadow in front of him.  Or not.  The roar of an angry mother bear split the night sky.  Alan panicked.  

For all his knowledge of the wilderness and excellent academics, when under stress Alan was quite an idiot.  If you learn anything in a park pamphlet or any other hiking or camping literature that doesn’t rant about trees and beetles, it is that you don’t run from bears (or feed them).  If you follow the instructions, then you know that if you’re about to be attacked by a bear, make loud noises, or play dead, or climb a tree, or shoot it, but you are never supposed to run from it.  Alan ran from it.  Of course, the bear was faster, but Alan had a head start and he placed some distance between himself and a fuzzy death, at least for a little while.  That lead didn’t last long, however, as Alan soon found himself dramatically backed against the long drop off the cliff that ended the hanging valley in which the meadow lay.  Beside him roared the previously charming stream (which was more of a small river now that he had a closer look at it) and in front of him roared the bear.  It was here that Alan finally came to his senses.  Either he had to stay and fight the bear or jump into the freezing pool below (though it looked plenty deep enough to survive).  Alan chose the former, as he had planned, in his sometime wisdom, for such an possible emergency.  Fumbling, Alan pulled out the large caliber revolver and took a deep breath, aiming carefully at the bear’s head.  He didn’t really want to do it, as it would leave that poor cub motherless, but it was either him or the bear, and he rather liked being alive.  He reluctantly squeezed the trigger, the pistol roared, and that is about the time when more things went wrong.  It’s not like he didn’t hit the bear, far from it: the bear slumped over dead in an instant. No, what went wrong is that at nearly the exact moment Alan pulled the trigger, the ledge and the rest of the cliff face had an emotionally charged argument, and the rock under Alan’s feet decided it wanted a divorce, taking an unfortunate Alan with it.





Mountain water is cold, extremely cold, and Alan soon found that the water in the pool far below was no exception.  Thankfully the drop wasn’t enough to injure Alan (at least physically), and no more rock decided to follow him after he dropped into the freezing pool.  After he painfully crawled out of the water, sodden and cold, Alan knew he was in trouble. Big trouble.  First off: he was wet clean through, and if he didn’t get his clothes off and a fire started soon, he would suffer from hypothermia.  Second: he  was a tad lost.  Mind you, he had a general idea of where he was, but he had no idea how to get back to the trail.  Third: he now had no food, no protection (he’d lost his gun in the fall), and no gear.  On the bright side, however, he did manage to find a lighter in his soggy jacket that still miraculously worked, as well as some dry moss and driftwood wood nearby.  Soon he had stripped to his underwear and was standing in front of a respectable fire, his clothes steaming on strategically placed sticks around the fire.  Eventually they dried and he put them back on, toasty and warm from the fire.  He sighed contentedly before frowning and taking stock of the meager supplies that he had managed to hang onto he plunged into the pool:  A compass, the lighter, his ID, two pennies, his keys and the carabiner with which he had them continually hooked to his belt, and a gum wrapper.  Things looked rather grim and Alan decided he’d rather think about it in the morning.  He added some more wood to his little fire on the pebble beach and curled up to sleep what remained of the dreadful night away.





Morning came all too swiftly, and with it more aches and pains than Alan imagined were possible.  He groaned and painfully sat up, wiping the sleep from his eyes with a pair of scratched and aching hands.  For several moments Alan just sat there looking blearily out at the waking world, hoping it was just a bad dream.  A stellar jay startled him out of his drowsy stupor by shrieking at him from a branch on one of the scraggly trees that grew near the base of the waterfall.  Alan grouched angrily at the inconsiderate bird as he stumbled to his feet while simultaneously trying to cover his ears.  

“Shut up!  Shut up, you hear?!”  The feathered fiend only squawked louder.  “Gahhh!  I’ll get for this...”  Alan scrambled around for a good rock to throw; fortunately, he was on a pebble beach, so they were in temptingly plentiful supply.  His early morning aim was simply awful, however, and the bird fluttered nearer as if mocking the blundering fool below him; a poor mistake.

“Darn you!” Alan’s second rock smacked the unfortunate bird right in the head, and it tumbled from the tree, without so much as a cry.  Alan walked shakily over to the bird’s corpse, a third rock in hand, wondering aloud at his luck.

“What?  I actually hit him?!  God and my aim be praised, victorious friends! The day is mine, for the blasted bird is dead!”  And now, thought Alan with a wry smile, breakfast is also provided. 

Cleaning the bird took some doing with only keys to serve as knives, but desperation ever breeds ingenuity (though plucking took FOREVER), and soon the bird’s remains were spitted over a relit fire.  Perhaps, thought Alan optimistically, my luck has finally turned.  He whistled merrily to himself as he slowly turned the bird over the meager flames.  Soon the smell of roasted bird filled the air, and Alan’s stomach begin to growl preemptively.  Alan frowned at his discontented midsection, “You’ll just have to wait, so hold your peace.”  His stomach growled a politically incorrect response in wild protest but Alan ignored it; he had bird to roast, so roast the bird he did.  Soon the lightly charred fowl was burning his fingers as he tried to stuff his face with it.  Unfortunately, when he had finished he realized there really wasn’t much worth eating on a jay, and that he was still hungry.  He scooped up his now-meager possessions along with a sturdy stick: it was really time to get moving.  Maybe, if lady luck was with him, he could find some berries along the way.

Of course, lady luck having a tendency to leave her friends hanging, was suspiciously absent, withdrawing the hope of being fed by juicy berries.  Alan became increasingly hungrier as the day progressed and he walked further and further down the main valley.  Meandering through the center of the valley was a river, fed by smaller tributaries like the one falling from the valley in which Alan had unwillingly started.  High above in some of these hanging feeder valleys, Alan could see the dirty white tips of glaciers, the last remnants of the giant one that had formed the valley he was presently walking hungrily down.  All around him on the main valley floor, pines and firs grew close and thick, interspersed here and there by ferns and marshy areas.  Alan would have thought it breathtakingly beautiful if he wasn’t so hungry.  And so Alan stumbled on through the fantastic scenery, scratched, bruised, starving, and generally ignoring the beauty of his surroundings.  Every so often he startled a deer or a marmot, but he couldn’t have caught either no matter how hard he tried.  So he trudged onward.





The sun was just starting a colorful descent along its arc into the west when the first clouds began to scud across the sky.  At first Alan paid them no mind, but when they thickened and began to block out the sun, and the wind picked up dangerously, he noticed and began looking for cover.  It was around the time the storm hit that Alan found shelter in a shallow cave in the base of one of the surrounding cliffs.  Just in time, too, for the storm hit with a vengeance.  First came the rain, starting with the pitter-patter of large drops.  It quickly built into a deluge, blown into sheets by the rising wind.  After the deluge started, the hail began, and then the thunder and lightning.  Alan shivered against the back wall of the cave as the temperature dropped, wrapping himself as best he could in his tattered jacket.  Even if he had wanted to sleep, the raging storm would have kept him awake by its howling fury.  Every so often, a loud SNAP would be heard as one of the trees he had been walking amongst gave way to the force of the howling winds and fell to the ground.  Then, almost as quickly as it had hit, the storm was over, moving past up the valley to go and terrorize anyone else foolish enough to be out hiking.  Still shaken by the storm, Alan got up and exited the cave, carefully clambering over the trunk of a tree that had fallen near his cave and noticed something rather disturbing: there was water just beyond the trunk, flowing rapidly downstream.  “Just had to flood, didn’t you?”  Grouched Alan at the flooding river, which rose a little higher in answer.  Alan realized he had to get to higher ground and fast if he didn’t want to have another go at hypothermia, so he picked his way along the small slopes at the valley’s edges, avoiding the water at all cost as well as falling and breaking something.  Eventually he came to a spot where the steep cliffs on his side of the valley fell away into a relatively steep hill.  Upon climbing this hill, he saw that another valley was joining the one in which he had been hiking.  The river in this valley was not nearly as swollen and much smaller, however, the joining was impossible to ford, flooded or otherwise.  At least this other river looked crossable if he was willing to hike upstream a bit.   It had to be, else Alan knew he would be trapped between them and unable to continue down the main valley.  

It was getting late, and it was a bad idea to try to cross a flooded river in the dark.  Upon deciding this, Alan began looking about for a good tree to climb: it wasn’t safe to stay on the ground, with the flood and all.  However, the main force that drove him into the foliage was not thoughts of cold water, but one of ripping claws and hungry jaws.a good resting spot was required, and an encounter with another bear was not something to which he looked forward.





Food! Alan thought as he clambered down the tree.  As if in answer to his mental plea, Alan spotted what looked like a berry patch across the smaller of the rivers.  “Now to find somewhere to cross,” mused Alan to no one in particular.  Fortunately, by the time Alan had awakened from his fitful night in the tree, both rivers had subsided.  He quickly found a place to cross, cursing the frigid water mentally as he waded.  As he trudged up the far bank, Alan noticed that the area he was currently in had very few trees in contrast to the area between the rivers, which was heavily forested.   Instead, this portion of the valley was covered by a wide floodplain surrounded by high peaks of obvious glacial origin.  But enough of that, thought Alan, berries first, analysis later.  In normal circumstances, Alan would have found berries too sweet for his liking, but these were not normal circumstances, however: Alan had no excuse to be picky; Hunger made the blackberries taste as the sweetest ambrosia from Olympus.

20 minutes later, Alan was scratched, covered in sticky blue juice, and his clothes slightly tattered, but he was content.  He was content because for the first time in the past few days, his hunger was finally satisfied.  Finally full, he began to stroll once more downstream through the wide valley toward where it turned suddenly to the right.  When he finally reached this bend, he was vaguely surprised to find a wide lake nearly filling the valley.  On the other side of this lake were marshes and an immense and dark forest.  Steam rose ominously from the swamp and forest, curling eerily into the morning sunlit air.  The area looked foreboding, as if any who entered there would never be seen again.  Alan gulped and took a few unconscious steps backwards, tripping over a small rock and landing on his rear in some conveniently located ferns before gulping and rising once more to his feet.  He slapped himself sharply before standing up again, taking a firm hold on his instinct, and walking towards to lake.  No spooky forest was going to stop him, at least not yet.





For the umpteenth time, Alan twisted his head about, trying to put a location to a noise he had just heard, and groaned in irritation.  The lake had been easy enough to go around, and the swamp to cross (though his shoes were now soggy and smelled funny), this forsaken forest, however,  was entirely different.  First, there was the unnatural darkness of the forest.  Unlike a regular forest which simply blocked out the sun’s rays turning the area below into twilight, here, the darkness in this forest was oppressive, heavy even, almost tangible.  Then, there were the noises: loud, unnatural screeches and howls which came at unexpected intervals, and from every conceivable direction, yet always seeming to come from behind.  Finally, there were the trees.  They twisted into fantastical and grotesque shapes, limbs like gnarled greedy fingers reaching out to snag the unwary.  Many times, out of the corner of his eye, Alan could swear he saw the trees hungrily moving or reaching for him, but every time he whirled warily around, the trees seemed to be right where they were before, though they always seemed closer, thought Alan.  He figured it was merely his imagination playing tricks on him, and yet, somehow, the forest seemed a living, a brooding presence just waiting for him to slip up so it could grab him.  It’s almost like Mirkwood, or Fangorn, or...   Alan shuddered; there was that awful screeching again, except on the left this time.  What was making that noise?!  For the life of him, Alan couldn’t figure it out.  He knew of nothing (especially in these parts) that made that peculiar noise.  He was still puzzling over that odd sound when a shadow darted across the open space in front of him.  At first he was relieved: it looked like a normal squirrel…until it flipped around to look at him, opened a mouth with teeth far too big for it and hissed.

Yes, it hissed: something your normal squirrel is NOT supposed to do, ever.  To Alan’s (much needed) credit, he managed to contain the scream that built up in his lungs, albeit barely.  He also managed to violently bat the demonic squirrel away with his walking stick when it jumped at him, slamming it into a gnarled tree trunk across from him.  Alan was unsure if it crawled away or was dragged away by the plant life.  In any case, it was never to be seen it again, although he could have sworn he heard the little scratchy sound of little clawed feet following him at many times throughout the day.  Something is very wrong here, thought Alan, something very wrong indeed.  He didn’t want to find out and quickened his pace; ducking to evade a low branch he could swear wasn’t there before.  He jumped as the screeching came again, this time to the left.

The unearthly shrieking continued throughout the day; never in regular intervals, never in the same place twice.  It really was unnerving, thought Alan as the shrieking came once more, this time to the right and a little to the front.  It really was infuriating not seeing what was antagonizing you, even if it might be even worse to meet it, and Alan was beginning to develop a nervous eye twitch.  After what seemed an eternity of torture, the screeching abruptly stopped.  Alan was half afraid it was just a ploy to let down his guard before the noise started up once again and drove him to complete madness, but the screeching became conspicuously absent.  Alan didn’t have his chance to enjoy his blessed break for very long, it was only a few moments after he had finally adapted to the sudden, brooding quiet, he heard something else that made his blood run icy cold, for: a long, mournful, menacing wolf-like howl, soon followed by several more to either side.  Not good.  Judging by the position of the howls, Alan figured he was being herded, probably to a place he really didn’t want to, or should go.  After a short while, Alan saw a dead end formed by a ravine ahead.  It was more of a gash in the earth as if something enormous had swiped at the forest floor.  It was bathed in moonlight, for above the ravine was an opening in the dense forest canopy.  He would be cornered and helpless here, yet he knew there was nothing he could do about it.  At least he would better light and have his back against something while trapped.

As the hellish howls came closer and the bushes in in front of the ravine began to rustle ominously, Alan began to slowly back down the ravine into the moonlight, brandishing his walking stick in front of him as if it were a weapon.  Soon, his attackers were emerging from the foliage.  The first thing Alan saw were the three pairs of unnaturally glowing eyes, followed shortly by dark shadowy silhouettes which appeared almost...tree-like.  They seemed almost familiar, thought Alan as he backed away further down the ravine, but why?  He nearly tripped over a protruding root as he walked backwards, but managed to catch himself, knowing that should he fall, it would be the end of him.  The lead beast entered the ravine, closely followed by the two others. When they stepped into the moonlight, revealing themselves, Alan gasped in both disbelief and horror, for bearing down on him with murder in their grainy hearts were three timberwolves.

Alan couldn’t believe his eyes.  It couldn’t be real, it just couldn’t, but yet it was.  The creatures  trying to kill him were from a cartoon and yet frighteningly real.  By all rights they shouldn’t exist... they weren’t scientifically possible and they...  The lead timberwolf growled deeply, standing (making) the hairs on the back of Alan’s neck stand on end.  He continued to carefully step backwards, his feet crunching on the dry leaves and snapping twigs covering the bottom of the ditch.  If they are timberwolves, Alan thought looking at the staff in his hands, this stick will be of little use, it’ll just bounce right off them.  How can I beat them?  Alan’s frightened back thumped against the far end of the ravine, signaling he was out of time with nowhere to go.  He had no escape.  As the wolves advanced slowly, toying with their prey, Alan pressed himself against the back wall of the ravine and felt something digging into his back: the lighter his back pocket.  That’s it!  Fire!  They’re made of wood, so maybe they are vulnerable, or at least fear fire!  It was his only option (that he could think of anyway) and he fumbled desperately around in his jacket pockets for his last hope before finally bringing out the lighter with a triumphal cry of  “Haha!”.  The lead timberwolf stopped, confused by its victim’s sudden confidence.  Alan flipped the lighter open, producing a small, flickering flame.  The timberwolves backed up ever so slightly, but Alan knew it wouldn’t be enough.  As if in confirmation, the lead wolf began to creep menacingly forward once more, its feet crunching on the dry leaves.  Alan knew he needed to go bigger if he was going to survive, and thinking quickly, threw the lighter into the leaves at the wolf’s gnarly paws.  The dry leaves and twigs caught agonizingly slowly at first, but soon the lighter was surrounded in a small but brightly burning fire,still fed by the lifesaving lighter.  The timberwolf practically jumped back, but stayed just out of reach, waiting for the fiery protection to go out, his prey was trapped.  Suddenly, the lighter exploded, sending up flaming debris in a bright flash of light.  Some of the debris landed on and around the overconfident lead wolf, igniting it into a terribly howling sheet of flame.  The blazing wolf ran out of the ravine in terror, crashing into its compatriots and igniting them as well.  All three dashed away in terror and pain; lighting up the forest around them and filling it with their agonized howls.  Alan quickly stomped out the flames left in the ravine except for a very few, which he gathered together to make a small fire, feeding it every so often with the materials at hand to maintain a constant and respectable inferno for protection.  He stayed and kept it burning until the sun’s rays shone through the break in the trees above; all night pondering all the implications of the timberwolves, unwilling to accept this madness as reality.  






As Alan walked away from his refuge, he knew he had to escape this place, and soon if he wanted to live much longer.  He had gotten lucky last night with the timberwolves and he knew it full well.  With his current lack of food and sleep, staying here another night would be suicide, especially with those troublesome timberwolves.  Alan shuddered at the thought, he didn’t have any intention of meeting those...things again.  At first, he had tried to convince himself that they were all a very bad dream, that it wasn’t possible, but the all too obvious scorch marks and massive footprints from his previous encounter left little room for his wishes.  Could it even be possible?  Could he have entered... no, it was unacceptable.  He hoped it was too far fetched to be true.  As Alan continued to walk and muse on his rather dire situation, he saw a break in the trees ahead and sprinted hopefully toward it, forgetting all but a deep rooted desire to be free of the oppressive woods.  As he ran, branches seemed to grab at him, snagging on his clothes at if to entangle him, roots seemed to rise from the ground to trip him.  A chilling wind began to rise out of nowhere, blowing away from the break into the forest, forcing him to run against the it.  It was almost as if the forest was trying to keep him a prisoner.  With one last effort, Alan finally broke free of the clinging branches and sprawled, winded, into the bright sunlight.

Alan lay exhausted in the sunlight for several moments, chest heaving as he blinked at the sudden increase of light.  When the spots finally faded from his vision and he had enough energy, Alan blearily pushed himself into a sitting position and looked around.  He discovered he was sitting on what appeared to be a wide path.  To either side the forest rose up, now seemingly beckoning him back into its twilight depths.  Alan let out a small groan of despair, for he wasn’t out of the forest yet. He wearily  dragged  himself to his feet and began to plod down the path, his feet stirring up small clouds of dust as he walked.  When this is over, thought Alan dismally, I’ll never be able to look at a tree the same way again.  Still, the path was far better than the forest, even though it was often overhung by the leafy boughs of the trees on either side.  The gnarled trunks beside the path still seemed to leer at him, but gone were their reaching, snagging branches.

For the first time since entering this accursed forest, Alan was had hope.  He finally had a relatively constant supply of sunlight, as well as nothing was tripping him, grabbing at him, or trying to kill him, and most importantly of all: he knew where he was going.  Well, although he technically didn’t have a clue where he was going, he figured the path led somewhere and that’s what he wanted, so he (sort of) knew where he was going.  Even though he was still desperate, scratched, hungry, tired and face with a dilemma as to whether or not he had lost his mind, he did have a uplift in mood.       

After what seemed like hours, Alan reached the forest’s edge.  As soon as he left the trees, he felt as if a heavy burden had been lifted from his mind and he felt like leaping for joy; right up until he saw what lay before him.  It made the colour drain from his face.  No, no it simply couldn’t be. It had to be otherwise!  It wasn’t scientifically possible.  Alan proceeded to fall  down onto his posterior in shock, close his eyes and open them again, and rub them several times.  He double-checked, and it. was. still. there. against all odds, it was not an illusion...  His mouth moved but no sound came out, his mind unable to comprehend the sight before him.  Eventually, the tremendous mental strain proved too much, and his eyes rolled back in his head and he fell to the ground, unconscious.  Before his prostrate form lay the peaceful town of Ponyville.





When Alan awoke several hours later, Ponyville was still there and he had gained a respectable bump on the back of his head.  As he sat up once more, he winced and was unpleasantly surprised to once again see Ponyville in front of him.  You would tend to think that seeing a place many bronies dream of seeing would be exciting, however, Alan felt quite differently: he was scared.  His entire outlook on life had been shattered: one moment a world was imaginary and safely trapped inside his computer, the next it was real and he was trapped inside of it.  If any of you have had this kind of experience (which you must have, given the number of HIE fics), you know how Alan felt: completely and utterly hopeless.  He was definitely not excited to see his favorite cartoon characters, nor overjoyed to be in a wondrous and magical land.  He was without hope.  Everything had been taken from him in an instant and he had no way of getting back.  As if it wasn’t enough , he just knew he would probably end up destroying this beautiful locale one way or another.  He might have generally behaved as a law abiding and upstanding citizen, but he knew deep down he was really the same as any other human being; that is, rotten to the core.  He would probably screw up some important story arc just by being here.  At some point or another, he would slip up, and he didn’t wish the results of that upon anyo...anypony.  On top of that, he knew he could never truly fit in, there was no future for him here in Equestria; eventually he would die all alone.  He desperately had to escape this place, but as far as he knew, there was no way out.  Heck!  He wasn’t even sure where or how he entered!  He held his head in his hands and wept in despair and grief.

Eventually, Alan managed to slowly pull himself together, if you could call it that.  He was quite the mess: filthy, clothes tattered, burrs everywhere, scratched on about every exposed bit of skin, bleeding in multiple places, and face streaked with the muddy trails of tears.  In short, he looked like something that had just crawled out of a deep dark place, which he technically had.  He was terrifying and pitiable at the same time.  His visage was so unsettling that when he went to drink from a slow moving portion of a nearby stream, he leapt back in fright!  Even he didn’t want to see himself like that, and neither would anyo...pony else, so he jumped into the cold water to take an impromptu (but much needed) bath, hoping he wasn’t spoiling anyo...pony’s drinking water.  After splashing about for a goodly bit, Alan hoisted himself out of the stream, clothes dripping out small waterfalls, and lay in the sunny grass for a nice relaxing moment until he felt tolerably dry.  Then he slipped on his shoes back on and started resignedly down the path towards Ponyville.  May as well get this over with, he thought.





The first pony I should talk to is Twilight, decided Alan wearily, After all, if there is any hope of me returning, she’d be most likely to know it, or at least of it.  He stopped in front of a large sign which read ‘Welcome to Historic Ponyville, population 3252.’  With a wry smile, he remembered how he’d guessed close to that number while watching an episode a while back.  Then, straightening his shoulders and taking a deep breath, he walked into the city limits.  

At first, nopony noticed him, too busy with whatever business they had to take care of and hustling and bustling about the streets.   However, everything changed rather dramatically when the a clever mare decided to play a classic prank on her overprotective coltfriend.  “Oh my Celestia!”  she shrieked, pointing dramatically (and unknowingly) at the unfortunate Alan, “What is that thing?!”  Of course, more than one pony followed her outstretched hoof, resulting in a collective gasp of horror that passed through most of the ponies in the marketplace as everypony turned to look, just to see a two-legged abomination bearing down on them.  All of a sudden, one of them reared up on her hind legs and cried in a panic-stricken voice out, “The horror!  The HORROR!” before passing out in an overly dramatic faint.  The crowd of ponies panicked, running every which way in an attempt to escape the dreaded beast, knocking over stalls and carts in their haste.  In nearly seconds, the streets were empty save for two ponies.  One was cowering behind objects and staying just out of sight.  She was a light green unicorn, both terrified out of her mind and yet also deeply fascinated with the monster in front of her and taking notes.  The other, on the other hand, was high above and had just seen the terror caused by the intruder, and decided to heroically put a stop to it.

A multi-colored blur dove from the sky, leaving a rainbow contrail in her wake.  Alan never saw it coming, for he was too busy staring in shocked bemusement at scene he had just caused.  Before the blur could hit the ground, it leveled off and slammed at high speed into Alan’s unprotected side, propelling him off his feet and into a nearby building with a sickening CRUNCH.  Rainbow Dash landed in front of the injured figure sprawled against the side of Sugarcube Corner.  

“Who are you and what do you think you’re doing terrorizing my town?!”  She angrily demanded, taking a few menacing steps toward Alan, who painfully raised his spinning head and looked in disbelief at the pony in front of him. A small, half hearted cheer went up from between the shutters of several nearby houses.  He couldn’t help but feel a tad betrayed: a pony he admired and a hero of his had done this to him... and was cheered for it.

“Wh...why?”  Was all he managed to ask through clenched teeth before suddenly tensing with a cry of anguish and collapsing unconscious once more.  





Pain.  So much pain.  It was the one thing Alan could think of as he began to wake up.  Everywhere hurt, and it hurt badly.  Even the smallest twitch sent a burning pain through his body.  It even hurt to breath.  As he began to drift back into consciousness, voices piercing the blackness and his mind, bringing yet more pain.

“Oh my!  Rainbow, do you really think that was necessary?  I mean, it looks like it’s in bad shape, and maybe it was just lost.”

“Hush now, Sugarcube, RD only did what was necessary.  Ya’ll shoulda seen the thing tearin’ up the place, just look ah this mess! Now if’n Ah had been there...”

A loud clatter of hooves quickly interrupted the Southern voice, making Alan’s head pound agonizingly.

“Girls, I came as soon as I heard!  Something about a monster terrorizing the...Oh my goodness!  What by Star Swirl’s beard is THAT?!”

“That was what caused this mess, Twilaught.  Ah missed the whole thing, but RD here it the one who stopped it from causin’ any more damage.”

“Hey, it looks like it’s waking up!”

Alan gave off a coughing groan before slowly opening his eyes, the bright sun causing him to wince, then wince again from the pain of wincing.  As his vision progressively cleared, he noticed four brightly colored spots, which gradually focused into four brightly colored ponies he immediately recognized as Applejack, Fluttershy, Rainbow Dash, and Twilight.  All were scrutinizing him intently, except for Fluttershy, who was cowering behind Twilight as well.  He tried to sit up a bit more to get a closer look, but fell back once more with a cry of agony, clutching at his ribs; they felt like they were on fire.  Fluttershy started forward with a deeply concerned look on her face, but Applejack’s determined orange hoof held her back.  

“He maught be dangerous.”

Rainbow Dash stepped angrily forward again, getting Alan’s attention before saying too loudly, “I’ll ask you one more time, who are you and what do you think you’re doing terrorizing Ponyville?!”

Alan winced at her volume.  “Didn’t...mean to...Gahhh!”

This confused Rainbow Dash, letting Twilight take over the questioning.  “What do you mean ‘you didn’t mean to’?  Why are you here?”

Alan’s head limply lolled over to get a better view of Twilight and he coughed a wet, painful, bloody cough before continuing, making Fluttershy wince in sympathy and horror.  “I *hack cough* was trying to find you, Twilight.  You... you were...the only one that could...” he coughed once more and wheezed before continuing. “The only one that could help me.”  Alan grimaced from the pain.

Rainbow Dash butted in again, jabbing Alan painfully in the ribs,  “A likely story...”



“No RD, Ah think he’s tellin’ the truth.  Ah can see it in his ahyes,” said Applejack, cutting off Rainbow Dash’s accusation over Alan’s cry of pain.

Alan coughed up more blood and it dribbled down his chin out of the corner of his mouth, his chest heaving from the effort.  The blood was full of ominous bubbles.  Applejack was beginning to have serious trouble holding Fluttershy back.

“Help you with what?”  Twilight inquired.

“I wanted to ask you...*hack*...to help me try and get home.”  Alan smiled weakly.  “I guess it’s a little...*cough cough*...too late for that now.”  

All four ponies were taken aback by the way he had said ‘too late.’  He couldn’t mean...

Rainbow Dash’s face went from one of skepticism to one of guilt and horror as Alan’s words sunk in slowly.  She recoiled in disbelief.  “No!  No no no no nonono nonono NO!  I never meant to hurt him like this!  Any pony would have been just fine after that!  You... You were scaring everypony and...and”  Rainbow Dash burst into tears.  “I’m so SORRYYYYYYYY.”  She moved closer to Alan’s broken body and sniffled in and shameful horror at the realization of what she had unwittingly done.

Alan raised a hand with great effort to stroke Rainbow’s mane, ignoring the pain.  “It’s not your...fault.  You didn’t mean it and I...*cough*...forgive you.  I’ll be going...to a better place.”

“No,” Rainbow sobbed, “You ca..can’t d...d...die! You just can’t!  I d...don’t even know your name!  Twilight! Do something! Anything!”  Rainbow grabbed Alan’s arm tightly with her front hooves in desperation.

With his last bit of energy, Alan smiled.  “My name... is Alan.  It was nice meeting... all of you.”


The End







MLP and its respective characters belong to HASBRO, so please don’t sue me.


Author’s notes:

First of all, let me get this straight: there will be no CH 2.   This is entirely the skype chat for the TTEOAP forum’s fault: there was a late night conversation concerning the overabundance of HIE fics.  I resolved to make mine different than most and came up with a silly idea (ie. the human dies in CH 1), then got around to writing it down.

I hope you all enjoyed it.  

Special thanks to my prereaders and others:

>pyrotigre, who helped to hack and chop the way through this fic and make it flow infinitely better.  
>Bronyken, who encouraged me throughout the process.
>Magic Llama, who agreed to be my prereader before he knew what was coming, then screamed in agony as it got longer and longer and longer.
>David, who got me hooked on the show
> Stormcaller, who got me interested in writing
>Everyone from the TTEOAP forum who preread or just supported me.

> Chapter 2
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

This is written for the sole reason that certain people seemed to think that my little fic needed a happy/alternate ending.  It continues right after the other left off, though whether the story should have ended there is up to you.

Quasi Epilogue of Much Longness

Alan saw nothing but a dark endless void, filling every corner of existence. For no apparent reason, the void seemed to fill itself, and slowly light made its way into the newly created part of reality, stripping away some of the shadows, and exposing the blinding source. Acting purely on instinct, he floated towards it, and the light intensified progressively until he finally found himself standing in front of massive ornate off-white gates.  A turbaned and robed gentleman with an enormous beard and spectacles sat at a little table beside the gates, quite engrossed with a small and shiny object, occasionally chuckling or frowning at it.  Alan drew closer and discovered the thing to be a smartphone; the man’s fingers moving across it at incredible speeds.  

Alan simply stood there for a few moments, too polite to interrupt.  His patience with the man soon ran out, and he cleared his throat loudly,  “Harumph!” He waited a few expectant moments, but nothing happened.  “HARUMPH!”  The man at the desk simply shifted and bumped an enormous ledger marked ‘The Book of Life; An Exhaustive Compilation of Immortal Souls.’  Alan’s eyes widened as he realized the implications, growing more agitated.  Unable to hold back any longer, he shouted “PETER!” in the man’s ear.  Irritated, the man looked away from his screen and griped, “Dash it all, Andrew!  Can’t you see I’m busy?  I’ve almost reached level...”  The seated gentleman paused in mid sentence and adjusted his glasses.  “I am sorry.  I just lose myself in a that game of “mortal birds”... it makes me forget my job sometimes.”  Here the man shuffled a few papers about and grabbed the ledger.  “What was your name again young man?  You already seem to know mine.”

“Alan Aleric.”

Flipping through the book and muttering to himself about bizarre mortal naming practices, Peter ran a finger over several pages before stopping and looking up.  “Hmmm.  Is this you: ‘Alan Aleric; Cause of death: Hit by bus’?”  Alan shook his head.  “How about...hmmm...hit by train?”  Again Alan shook his head and Peter continued to scan the page.

“Hit by meteor?”

“No.”

“Killed by rabid lemmings?”

“No.”

“Sacrificed to chipmunks?”

“No.”

“Hmmmm.  Shot by mobsters?”

“No.”

“There’s only one left, let’s hope it’s you.  Let’s see...Slain by Rainbow Dash...wait, WHAT?!  That can’t be right.”

“But it is,” stated Alan, “Even I don’t really know what happened.  One day I was camping in the woods, the next I was in Equestria...”

Peter looked back and forth between the page and Alan, closely examining the picture next to his description in ledger before sighing heavily.  “Fine.  Somehow that’s you, but this means getting in will be a little more difficult.  Even though you technically are entitled by grace to enter, you died in an alternate universe, so you may be subject to the afterlife rules for that one.  I need consult someone about it.  Please follow me.”

Peter got up from his desk and made his way to a small door built into the main gate.  Together, they passed through and came to a small lobby with tacky gold trim, chairs, floor.  On one side was a golden sign that read ‘Bureau of Interdimensional Relocation,’ to the other was a pile of paperwork.  Peter motioned Alan to take a seat then walked to the desk and rang a gold bell labeled ‘ding for service’ multiple times, summoning an angry voice from inside the office.  A dishevelled looking man came out.  Like Peter, he wore a robe and a beard, but was somewhat shorter.

“Alright Peter, what do you want?”

“I’m actually here on official business, Thomas.” Thomas snorted derisively as Peter pointed at the seated Alan, “This guy got himself killed over in universe E4.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“You never believe anything, Thomas.  It was right there in the ledger.”

“Fine.  But you know what this means, don’t you?  Paperwork.”  Thomas pointed angrily at the pile in the corner.  “Loads of blasted paperwork.  And that’s just for the fact that he GOT to another universe.  Serves us right for letting Matthew design the application system.  Stupid tax collectors.”

From the back room came, “I heard that!  Don’t make me audit you.”





Twenty minutes later, Alan was still busy scribbling away at a pile of scrolls almost as tall as he was.  Though he knew it to be (mostly) impossible, he could swear he filled out the same form multiple times as well as several income tax forms.  By the time he got to the Ro323 form at the bottom, he was extremely tired and frustrated, not to mention his wrist was sore.  He got up to stretch, when the door to the office suddenly crashed open to let an impressive winged figure through.

“Michael, must you always be so showy?” Thomas whined, “We just fixed the hole you made in the wall last time!”

Ignoring the angry little man before him, Michael announced, “I have come for Alan.  The E4 angelic head has summoned him.”

“But he’s not done with his paperwork!”  cried a small wiry man in horn-rimmed glasses as he ran out with armloads of other scrolls.  

“I think this is more important than your forms, Matthew,” said Peter.

Matthew looked hurt and began to argue with Peter over the importance of paperwork as Michael led Alan out the door and down a corridor.  As they walked along, the angel’s monstrous wings continually brushed against the wall and ceiling, knocking things over; but he continued, oblivious the the havoc he caused.  Eventually they reached an massive golden door guarded by an angel with a drawn sword.  Michael nodded and the angel stepped aside, opening the door so they could pass.

“Morning, Tal.”

“Morning, sir.”

As they passed through the gold door, Alan noticed the atmosphere change, becoming more open, almost as if he had stepped outside.  Light was shimmering to the room through a glass ceiling, a few vents thrown open to promote a breeze, while the walls were tastefully furnished in darkly stained mahogany.  In one corner was a desk, and behind it sat...  

“Princess Celestia?!  I...bu...wha...”  Alan descended into incoherent babbling, obviously too shocked to continue.  The white alicorn looked up from her book and smiled, nodding to Michael.

Michael sighed and turned to Alan and began explaining.  “You are wondering how this is possible, are you not? As you may be aware, the Creator created your universe.  What you may not know is that He also created many other universes.  The place you know as Equestria is simply another of these universes, separated by the void.  For each universe He assigned a regent to combat the dark ones.  I am the commander for His forces in your universe, just as Celestia and her sister are the commanders in Equestria.”

Michael’s explanation was mind boggling to Alan, but he somewhat understood what Michael was getting at.  Still, something was bothering him.

“If these universes are separate, how did I get into Equestria from my universe?”  asked Alan.

“Occasionally universes overlap; the borders between them fading and allowing a bleedthrough effect.  The angelic hosts have not been fully informed as to why this occurs, but we believe it to be part of a larger plan we cannot comprehend, as such things often are,” replied Michael.

“Thank you, Michael.  I’ll take it from here.  I’ll be done by the Angelic Dimensional Council’s luncheon this afternoon,”  said Celestia to the archangel before turning to Alan and motioning to a chair in front of the desk with her wing.  “Have a seat, my little mortal.”  Alan’s eyebrow twitched.

“I suppose you are wondering why I have summoned you, Alan.  Your recent entry into my little nation has caused quite a stir, not to mention traumatising some of my most beloved subjects.  Rainbow Dash in particular has been very distraught and Twilight has been sending me letters at a frightening pace asking for help in explaining your appearance.”

“I’m sorry if I messed anything up.  I’d like to fix it, but...well...I’m dead.”

Celestia responded with a motherly (if awkward) smile and answered: “Ah, well... You see... There is a way to help...”

“Wait!? There is?” The implied question was all too obvious in his tone, but she seemed to want him to ask it anyway.  “How am I supposed to do to fix this?  I have been dead for some time. Actually, how long have I been dead for?  My body wouldn’t exactly in be good shape after any significant amount of time...”

“I’m afraid you’re right, Alan.  Rainbow insisted on a proper pegasus funeral for you, quite the honor, in fact..., however, this means your body was burned at the end of the ceremony.  It really was a lovely funeral.  Unfortunately for us, it is very difficult to reanimate ashes.”

“So...how do you expect  me to solve our problem?”

“I filed a request with the Creator to grant you a new body, but the paperwork for obtaining a human body in my domain was so dreadfully extensive that I’m afraid you can’t go back as a such.  That is, if you still want to have go at fixing this.  Do you?”

Alan hung his head in thought.  If he accepted, on one hand,  he would no longer be human, but on the other, he might be able to fix the many lives he messed up.  If he stayed, he had all that paperwork left to do, so...

“I’ll do it.”

“I am happy to hear that, my little mortal, or should I say: my little pony.  The required paperwork is all in order, all you need to do now is to provide your signature.”   A golden aura surrounded one of the pens on Celestia’s desk and held it out to Alan.  With trepidation, Alan hesitantly took the pen and scribbled his signature across the bottom of the paper.





Alan groaned as the wind whistled in his ears.  It was so annoying that he flicked them.  As he did, he started at the strange sensation of doing so.  He opened his eyes and sat bolt upright, taking in everything a bit too quickly, giving himself a headache.  A melodious chuckle drifted from above and he squinted upwards to see the shape of Princess Celestia towering over him.  

“Hello, my little pony.  I see you’re finally awake.”

“So I’m...?”

“Yes, Alan, you are once more in the land of the living.  You are on a flying chariot bound for Canterlot at present.”

“Oh Quirke!”  Alan wrapped a pair of tan hooves around a nearby railing and hung on as tightly as he could, closing his eyes.

“What is wrong, my little pony?” asked Celestia.

“I.  Don’t.  Like.  Heights.” said Alan through tightly clenched teeth.

“I assure you: it’s perfectly safe,” Celestia said in an amused tone.

“I don’t care!” wailed Alan.  

Celestia got a mischievous look on her face.  “Tough luck, my little pony.”

“Stop calling me that!”





It was about 2 o’clock when the chariot landed in the castle courtyard, letting Alan out , just to have him stumble out onto the solid ground.  Celestia stepped regally from the chariot and over her newest subject, giving him knowing and yet amused smile before turning to one of the nearby guards and whispering in his ear.  The latter approached Alan before somewhat gently tapping him on the head with an armored hoof.

“Oy!  Frightened excuse for an earthpony!, Get up. Now.  I have orders to take you to to your quarters, and I want to make it quick, capiche?”

Alan responded with little more than a tired groan.

“Hey fellas, this sorry waste of space doesn’t want to move!  Got any *chuckle* ideas?” the guard called to his compatriots.

“Yeah!  You bet!” said one, before turning to a janitor pulling a mop bucket across the courtyard.  “Sweepy, old chap, can we borrow your bucket of mop water?”

Alan bolted shakily for the castle door; mocking laughter from the guards accompanying him the whole way.  After a small amount of panicked galloping, the first guard caught up with the newcomer, the “newborn”’s lack of experience in this form making the task all the easier.

“Your quarters are this way,” motioned the amused guard.

“Fine,” muttered a dejected Alan as he followed the guard’s lead.  “I’d like to get some sleep.”

“You’ll need it.”





Early the next morning, Alan was brought to an elliptical office situated to the left of the throne room.  A plaque on the door labeled it as the ‘Immigration Office.’  When he entered, he found Princess Luna was sitting behind a large polished granite slab that served as a desk.  

“Good morning, Alan,” said the princess of the night with a small yawn.  “It has come to our attention that you made an unauthorized incursion onto Equestrian soil and caused traumatizing experiences for multiple residents of the town of Ponyville.  How dost thou explain thyse...I mean, what do you have...BOTHER!  YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN.”

Alan was almost deafened by the use of the Royal Canterlot Voice in an enclosed space.  He stumbled around for a few moments before recovering.

“WE … I mean, I am sorry,” apologized the princess, “old habits die hard.  Now, please answer the question.”

Alan hung his head before shakily responding, “I am extremely sorry that I caused anyone in Equestria harm and wish to fix the mess I made.”

“Very good.  Do you have any plans as to what you will do after you have repaired your mess in Ponyville?”

“Um...no I...”

“This crown will not use taxpayer bits to pay for you to stay here and be unproductive.  Do you have any job experience or know any trades?  Will you be a burden on our society Mr. Aleric?”

“I thought I was just staying long enough to fix my mess,” said Alan.

“You thought wrong, then,” snapped the princess. “Did you even bother to read the form my sister pushed at you before signing it?”

“ ... Err ... No … I …”  

“Did you miss the part where you agreed to become a pony for the remainder of what would have been your natural life span?  Did you not realize the implications?”

Alan gulped as he realized his oversight and tried unsuccessfully to vanish into the carpet.

“I shall take that as a no, then.  No matter.  You signed the contract, so we are stuck with a new Equestrian citizen.  We might as well make something out of you…,”  Luna sighed in resignation,  “So, I’ll ask again: do you have any job experience or know any trades?  What did you do for a living?  Did you do anything whatsoever?”

Alan gulped, “I… I’ve always liked to work with my hands...” Alan paused, noticing Luna’s confused expression and corrected himself, “...er, hooves.” An exclamation of comprehension interrupted what he was going to say next. Taking the non-verbal apology as a signal to continue, the former human did so.  “I was in college before the, um, incident, but hadn’t decided on a major yet.  I like to think I’m a hard worker, though.”

“Hmmm.  The fact that you are now an earth pony somewhat limits the fields you can excel at, although truly extraordinary workponyship can emulate the effects of magic or flight.  I shall have several of the city’s craftsponies see if they have any use for you and work from there.  How does that sound?”

“Th-thanks!”  stuttered Alan.

“Is something still troubling you?  You seem to have a few questions.”

“I, um, I was wondering why I don’t have a cutie mark,” said Alan with a forlorn glance at his flank, “It also crossed my mind that I might need to change my name or something.”

Luna’s severe expression softened and her voice seemed to lose its edge.  “Your name will suite you just fine, Alan.  Though it might be slightly out of place here, it is yours, and one of the few things you have left.  As for your cutie mark, such things take time. Be patient, it will come in its own time.”

“Thank you princess,” said Alan, visibly relieved.  “Um... so... um... what should I do in the meantime?”

The princess acquired a mischievous grin.  “You can start by not saying ‘um’ as often.  Then, fill out these identification card request and social security application forms.  You might need the latter if you can’t get a job right away...”

Alan groaned in despair at everyone’s seeming obsession with paperwork.





Alan had just finished filling yet another mountain of mostly repetitive forms when Luna returned with several successful-looking businessponies, the esteemed Fancypants among them.  As the princess once more took her seat behind the desk, she motioned to Alan.

“I have already apprised you of this pony’s current position, and I would appreciate if you gave him the honor of your employ.  He claims to be a hard worker, but has no specific area of expertise.  He does seem to enjoy manual labor, though.”

The entrepreneur shifted nervously, both aware that it could be risky to employ such an untried pony that lacked a cutie mark and that they had little choice in the matter.  It might not have been overt, but they knew they had to take him on one by one until he found a place in the workforce, or risk their princess’s ire.  One or two pulled out small record books and studied them intently.  The silence grew awkward until Fancypants gave the applicant a smile and spoke.

“I believe I may have some openings in one or two of the shops I own. Surely I can find something for this fellow to do.  Alan was it?”

Alan nodded and most of the others let out a sigh of relief; all but one that is.

“You know I hate to argue with you, Fancypants, but we all know your holdings are already overflowing with ponies you’ve felt obliged to help.  Let the rest of us do at least one good deed!” said an ash unicorn with a jet black mane and a cutie mark of a pair of interlocking cogs.  “The foreman at one of my shops informed me that he was in need of an apprentice.  Do you have any aptitude for mechanics, my boy?” said the unicorn, looking Alan over with an appraising eye.

Alan gulped, nervous as could be, but managed a decent response.  “I was always fascinated by how things worked, sir.  Though I don’t know much, I’d be happy to learn.  If you’ll have me, that is.”

“That’s just what I like to hear!” exclaimed the interested stallion.  “If the princess will allow, I’d like to have you at the shop on Turning Lane early tomorrow morning.”  The unicorn looked expectantly at Luna.

“Very well, sir Cogsworthy the IV, he will be there.”

“Thank you, princess,” said the aforementioned pony.

“You’re welcome,” said the princess with an obvious look toward the door, “Now, since this matter is taken care of for now, I’m sure such important ponies as yourselves have other places to be.  If you’ll excuse us...”

The businessponies got the hint and left the room with slight bows and many meaningless goodbyes.  Alan let out a breath after they had all gone.  

The princess looked at Alan.  “Well, that’s taken care of.  Cogsworthy runs a good company, so you’ll be in capable hooves.  We’ll see how this works out before sending you back to Ponyville.”

Alan nodded and Luna smirked at him.  “Now, you had best return to your quarters, my little pony, before I give you more paperwork.”

“Why do you all call me that?” despaired Alan.





The next morning came faster than Alan would have liked, and soon he found himself in front of of the shop in a more industrial portion of Canterlot, hidden in a declivity of the mountainside.  The building was large and in need of paint in some places, but still appeared to be in excellent condition otherwise.  Above the door was a sign which reading ‘Cogsworthy Mechanics; high quality products since 884.’  

Alan repressed whatever second thoughts he had and rapped a hoof on the small wooden door to one side of the building.  The sound of grinding gears came from inside, followed by a shout muffled by the door .  Suddenly, the door flew open, letting a goggled and oil-stained head of a pony out.  He pushed the goggles onto his forehead with a grimy hoof and looked about, grinning widely upon spotting Alan, his white teeth vividly contrasting his filthy coat.  

“Ah!  Yeh must be the new guy thah were sending out today.  Come in, come in!  I’m yer new boss, Greaser!” the mechanic pony practically yelled in Alan’s face, before vanishing back inside.  Alan took an involuntary step back appalled by the pony’s terrible breath.  Reluctantly, he followed his new boss into the shop, only to have his jaw drop in surprise.  

Despite expectations, the interior of the shop was perfectly clean and orderly, Unlike the pony who ran it.  Said Pony gave Alan a look, indicating he knew what any intruder might think if they entered his little haven.

“I’m a mess, I’ll give you that.  Better me than everything else, right?.  Let me find the new employment papers, then yeh can get started by tightening the hex screws on that thingamajig over there.  When yer done, I need ta talk to yeh, so meet me over at the table over there.  What’s yer name, anyhow?  I never did catch it.”

“Alan,” said he as he walked to the desk and sighed.  More paperwork always crept around the corner.  Always.





Once the paperwork was done and the screws tightened, a very nervous Alan found himself sitting across the table from Greaser.  The ash colored stallion occupied himself by slowly filling up a glass of water from a nearby cooler and sipping it.  He eyed Alan as he sipped his glass and reached over to fill another.  

‘He’s doing this on purpose,’ thought Alan irritably, ‘This has to be some sort of test, but of what?’

Greaser noticed Alan’s confused look and made a show of sipping his glass even more slowly before setting it down with a long drawn out sigh of pleasure.

“That really hits the spot.  ‘worked up quite the thirst watching yeh fiddle with that wrench.”

Alan’s eye twitched.

“Why yeh insisted on using yer hooves to attempt to tighten those screws is beyond me, shoulda just used yer mouth like any normal pony.  But yeh aren’t a normal pony, are you...Alan, was it?”  Greaser’s green eyes drilled into Alan’s.

“S-sir?” stuttered Alan.

“For one, after me boss-yeh remember Cogsworthy, right?-told me he found somepony to fill the vacancy-that would be yeh, laddy-he babbled about yeh being a special case from the royal court itself, and that I was to treat yeh with care.  Then, there’s the part about not having a cutie mark.  Yeh should have one by now, yeh know. Ain’t natural...”  Greaser looked pointedly at Alan before continuing, “Shortly after yeh got here, I received a letter with a royal seal detailing that, when yeh had earned enough money, I was to let yeh go on yer merry way to Ponyville.  Care to explain why that is?”

“I...I, um, need to tie up some loose ends in Ponyville as it were. I don’t think I’m allowed to say more than that...” Alan said looking down at the table.  Greaser stroked his chin in thought.

“There have been some strange stuff going on in Ponyville recently, all hushed up by the government.  I don’t suppose yeh have anything to do with that?” Alan began to reply, but an oil stained hoof rose, cutting him off as Greaser continued.  “I wouldn’t give yeh a hair of me pelt for it.  Whatever happened in Ponyville is the princesses’ business, not mine; and until yeh earn enough, it won’t be yers either.  I don’t care what’s happened or oh how special yeh are, but until I see fit to let yeh go, Yer mine, princesses be damned.  Is that clear?”

Alan managed a shaky nod while looking at the table.

“did yeh not hear me?  I said, IS THAT CLEAR?!”  Greaser practically shouted across the table.

“Yes s-sir!”  Frightened, Alan started, making him look up at his new boss with wide eyes.

“Stop stuttering, it makes yeh sound stupid,” said Greaser, “And close your mouth, I can yell to me heart’s content, so long as I get me job done, nopony cares.  Now let’s go back over to that thing yeh were pretending to work on, and I’ll teach yeh the proper way to hold a wrench, yeh dolt.”





It didn’t take long before Alan realized he loved his new job.  He quickly found out that Greaser was not quite as mean spirited as he at first seemed.  While the ashen pony seemed harsh at first, Alan soon found him to simply be zealous about his work.  What seemed like schizophrenia were simply his attempts to lighten the mood.  Greaser was right about his original wrench holding method, of course.  He found using his mouth to be better, for while doing so was both difficult and frustrating to somepony who had once had the use of hands, given practice, it was the most efficient manner possible.  Cogsworthy himself praised the immigrant on his growing skill when he stopped by several days after Alan started work at the shop.  Behind his goggles, however, Greaser seemed to remain unimpressed, constantly pointing out how Alan could do better in a firm, disapproving tone; motivating Alan to improve steadily.  One day, even old greaser found no flaws in his work, and that day, Alan gained his cutie mark.





It was a rainy day in Canterlot that day, but that meant little more to two grease stained ponies working away in the dry confines of the machine shop than a light drumming on the roof that resonated throughout the building.  While Greaser was busying himself with a lathe in one corner of the room, Alan was working on a contraption some rich gentlepony had sent in.  It was some kind of experimental flying machine that returned nearly every week in needs of repair, accompanied by plans for new modifications.  Jokingly referred to as the employee of the month by Greaser, it brought in large sums on a regular basis.  Alan was thinking about this future as he was tightening up the hex screws on the lower portion when it struck him.  He liked working with machines and he wanted to fix things, improve, and build things.  He decided that he was going to be a mechanic, and that he’d sure as heck try to be the best mechanic you ever did see.  

As Alan finished, Greaser came over to check his work.

“Well,” Alan half joked, “what did I do wrong this time?”

Greaser frowned as he examined the finest detail with a raptor’s gaze before looking straight at Alan with a smirk.  “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I can’t find anything wrong today.  Oh, and yeh’ve got something on yer rump, laddy.  Might want to wipe it off.”

Alan turned his head to see what Greaser was talking about. After a small bit of puzzled staring, he finally noticed it, making his eyes go wide.  “I’ve-I’ve got my cutie mark!”  Alan yelled and jumped about like a little filly, before stopping suddenly and looking back to Greaser.  “um... What is it, exactly?  I can’t get a good look at it.”

“Yeh want me to look at yer rump, lad?” mocked Greaser, the grin on his face getting bigger.  “Are yeh sure?”

Unamused Alan gave Greaser a stare.  “Really?”

“Fine... *mutter* *mutter* can’t take a joke *mutter*,” grumbled Greaser.  “It’s an Allen wrench.”

“Oh. funny.  Sure.  Make fun of my name.”

“I’m serious, lad.”

“You would be...” Disgruntled, Alan groaned and facehoofed.  At least, his name made sense now.  





Time made its course after that.  Days dragged on to weeks, and weeks into months as Alan put all thought and efforts into learning his new trade, nearly forgetting his mess in Ponyville, as what little time Alan did not spend working was generally spent eating or sleeping.  It almost surprised him when a noontime knock did not signal the arrival of the postman, nor that of a customer, but the presence of a royal guard bearing summons.

As the door opened, the messenger began, forgoing even a polite hello.  “By the decree of her most royal highness, Princess Luna, I come bearing a summons for the earthpony known as Alan,” announced the gold plated pegasus, “He is to appear in court by noon tomorrow.”

The two oil stained earthponies standing in the shop’s doorway looked at each other; to an unskilled eye, they looked almost like brothers, so filthy were their coats.  The awkwardness of the situation growing by the minute, one of them finally stepped forward, catching the attention of the poor representative of the law.  “I am Alan,” said he, “Is there anything more in the message?”

The guard shook his head before looking up and down the street for any ponies watching.  Seeing none, he coughed nervously and took off his helmet.  “Er, no, there is nothing more, but I was wondering, since you run a metal shop and all, if you could see about fixing my helmet?”  The pegasus rubbed at a portion of the metal and a chunk of putty fell away, revealing a goodly sized dent.  “I’d take it to the palace armorer, but Sarge would find out and would kill me.”

The earthpony behind Alan came closer to examine the helm, whistling softly when he saw the size of the dent.  “So, how did this happen?”

“Me and some of my buddies were out drinking one night, and we decided to ram our heads into things, you know, to see how tough the armor was and... if Sarge founds out-”  

Greaser cut him off.  “He’ll kill yeh.  We know, we know.  Do yeh have money to pay for the repair job?”

“Er... well.. you see... I... no.  I was kinda hoping you’d fix it out of charitable feelings towards the armed forces, or something like that,” the guard said shamefully.

“Sorry son,” patronized Greaser, “I’m patriotic, but not that patriotic.  Come on, Alan, our favorite flying machine needs work.  We wouldn’t want to keep this soldier from an important meeting with his commanding officer, would we?”  Greaser grinned evilly and slammed the door on the sputtering soldier before looked at Alan.  “Wondered when they’d finally come for yeh.  Guess I know now.   On another note: what a baffoon! Frankly I’m surprised his sarge hasn’t spotted that dent yet.  Guess they’ll promote anypony these days.”





“It took you long enough to get here, Alan.  We had expected to have this meeting far sooner.”

“S-sorry, Princess,” stuttered Alan.

“Now sister,” rebuked Celestia, “don’t be so harsh on Alan.  He’s here now, as requested.”

“But he was supposed to be here when he had enough money to get to Ponyville and back!  It’s  been months.”  Luna whirled on hapless Alan.  “So, care to explain why you weren’t here earlier?”

Ashamed, Alan tried his best to sink into the floor.

“Luna! Show some restraints!  Look at him!  You’re scaring him!” exclaimed Celestia before turning back to Alan.  “It is a valid question, however.”

“I... guess I kinda lost track of time,” said Alan, awkwardly scratching the back of his head. This time, both princesses looked at him, not believing he used an excuse that is sketchy at best when you are late by a few hours, much less by months. Sheepishly, He added “and I was dreading going back, too.”

“Why?  You came back for the sole reason of making this right.  Why are you backing out now?”  

“What if they don’t accept my apology?  What if I just make things worse?”

“Then you will have failed,” Luna said gravely.

“Luna!” Celestia almost shouted before turning to Alan.  “I am sure they will accept your apology, my little pony.  It was an accident after all.”

“Some might want to apologize to you, even if it should be the other way around...” Luna muttered.

Alan gulped and timidly asked, “What if they don’t forgive me?”

“That will have been their choice,” reassured Celestia, “and I am sure you will have tried your hardest.”

“However, be sure to have groveled at their hooves until they find it more convenient to forgive you,” said Luna with a smirk, earning a quick glare from Celestia.  “What?  He should at least try it...” responded Luna innocently.

Celestia’s left eyebrow twitched.  “Would you at least try not to pester our new subject, sister?  He’s doing his best to make things right.”

“But it’s so much fun, Tia!  He reacts so perfectly, just look at him cowering.”

At this, Alan straightened his back and forcibly stopped his hooves from shaking.  He was not cowering...was he?

“Did you learn anything from Nightmare Night other than pranking, sister?” An exasperated Celestia asked.  

“At least we-I mean I didn't use the Royal Canterlot Voice or the royal ‘we’ this time.  I didn’t even call him ‘thou!’” protested Luna.

Celestia facehoofed.  “Why do you have to be my sister?”

“Because I am the great and powerful Luna!  You are lucky to have me.”

“I should have sent in a request to have you stay on the moon another millenium. it might have done you good...” sighed Celestia.

“But Tiaaaaaa!” whined Luna, “Then you wouldn’t have me to talk to,” Luna paused before continuing with a smirk, “or run the tax bureau, for that matter.”

“O ye cruel tax collector...”

When they had ignored him for five additional consecutive minutes, thoroughly absorbed by their royal banter, he awkwardly scooted out and left them to their ridiculous task.  A guard near the door straightened as Alan walked past, trying to look as if he hadn’t been on the floor laughing moments before.

“Oh shush, you or I’m going to tell your sargeant about that helmet.”





With a squeal of brakes, the train pulled into the Ponyville station.  The town seemed bigger than before, maybe because he was dreading the imminent confrontation.  It might also have been a side effect of being nearly three feet shorter.  

This time, nopony gave him a second look as he walked into the marketplace.  There were no screams of terror or running ponies, and there were definitely no fatal rainbow coloured blurs slamming into him.  Despite the lack of general panic, Alan still shied away from the wall of Sugarcube Corner, bumping into a lampost, distracted by bad memories surfacing in his mind.

“You alright there?” asked a brown earthpony stallion with a spiky dark mane and an hourglass for a cutie mark.

“Yeah, I just got lost in thought is all.  You wouldn’t know of any hotels in the vicinity, would you?”

The stallion paused for a moment to think before answering “The closest would be the Daisy Inn two blocks that way, but, if you want options, you could try the Mareiott three blocks over in that direction.”  He pointed again.  “There are several more, but I can’t remember them off the top of my head.  They’re clustered near the others, though, and not that hard to find.”

Having thanked the pony and gone in the direction of the first establishment mentioned Alan found that, like most of the buildings in Ponyville, the Daisy Inn had a style reminiscent of the villages of Bavaria.  Large beams framed a thatched roof and brightly shuttered windows.  ‘It has a very relaxed feel to it,’ thought Alan before entering the door to the lobby and renting a room.  After what little baggage he had was stowed, he headed toward the library once again, finding it ironic that he still needed Twilight’s help.





Alan found the library without too much trouble, for, after all, it was a giant tree near the center of town.  The street signs indicating its location might have helped too.  With trepidation, Alan knocked on the door, quickly answered by a small purple dragon that looked at him with a bored expression.

“Can I help you?” inquired the disinterested fellow

“Yeah. I’m looking for Twilight,” explained Alan, “Is she in?”

“Nah. She’s out at Sweet Apple Acres.  Should I take a message for you and give it to her when she gets back?”

“No, that’s alright. I’ll just go meet her there.  Thanks anyway.”

“Sure.  Whatever,” muttered the purple dragon groggily as he watched Alan trot away.





Sweet Apple Acres really wasn’t all that far from Ponyville, but to Alan, it seemed like the walk took forever.  Finally, he was going to have to face one the ponies he had hurt (albeit unintentionally).  He knew he needed to do it, now that the time had come, he found he would rather not.  ‘Why did doing the right thing have to be so hard?!’  With each step towards his destination, Alan’s sense of guilt grew.  Would she forgive him?  Maybe, worse would happen, and she wouldn’t even believe that he was Alan?  His thoughts raced, coming up with every possible thing that could go wrong with what he was about to do.  Why hadn’t Celestia written to Twilight to tell her that he was coming?  Maybe she had, but didn’t tell him...  Was this some kind of horrible heavenly joke orchestrated by Peter or some other angel?  Lost in his contemplations, he didn’t even notice that he had arrived.  An issue quickly remedied when he ran head first into the new red barn, leaving him with a painful spot on the head and slight disorientation.  

“Ya’ll alright, mister?” asked a small yellow blur.

“No.”

“No need ta get snippy, Ah just want to help.  Besides, yer on mah sister’s property.”

Alan put a hoof to his head in an attempt to ease the pain.  That voice sounded familiar, but why.  He groaned as realization struck him.  This could complicate matters...

“A-Applebloom?”

“How d’ya’ll know mah name?!  Ah don’ think Ah’ve seen ya before.”

“Er...gah!”  Alan clutched his head as the pain swelled up again.

“Ya’ll need help?”

“No...I just need to-”

“Applebloom, what did Ah tell ya’ll about speakin’ to strangers?”  interrupted a very loud and heavily accented voice.  

“Don’t go with dem and offer dem to come fer supper...” answered Applebloom in a downcast voice.

“Who is that anyway?  Why is he layin’ on the ground like that?  Did you do this to ‘im?”

“Ah don’t know, sis!  Ah heard a bang an’ Ah jus’ found him layin’ here.”

“Ah swear, if Ah wasn’t the element of honesty and lying to me wasn’t impossible, ah wouldn’t believe ya.”

Alan groaned at the entire situation.  This wasn’t the entrance he had planned to make.  Why did everything have to go wrong for him?

“Er, sorry about that, Mr...what is yer name anyway?” asked Applejack, turning to him suddenly.

“Alan,” said he, rubbing his aching head, “I was actually coming to talk to you, believe it or not.”

“Alan? Shucks! Ah once met someone wit’ th’ exact same name... Ah doubt ya’ll know him... Anyway, what did ya’ll come see me fer? Do you want to buy some apples? We have the best ones in all of Equestria, ya know...”

“Actually,” interupted Alan, as he sat up, “I need to talk to you in private about something.”

“You aren’t from the ERS, are you?”

“No, I’m here because-”

“Applejack,” said a purple unicorn mare, “I’ve been looking all over for you!  You said you’d only be gone for just a little bit and-who’s that?  Oh my gosh!  Is he ok?  He looks like he damaged his cranium by impact with a blunt object!”

“He just hit his head, Twilight,” said Applejack.  “He’ll be fine.”

“But that’s what I just... fine.  But who is he?” asked Twilight.

“Alan,” said the tan earth pony, “I need to talk to you as well.”  He gulped, anticipating the next few hours of his life (and plans to run away...).  

“About what?” inquired Twilight.

“Not here, I need to talk to both you and Applejack in private...it’s kind of important.”

“Do I know you?” asked Twilight curiously.

“We’ve met before,” snorted Alan, “And that’s what I came to talk to you two about.”

“Ah certainly don’t remember you,” said the farmpony, “Do ya remember when an’ where it was?”

Alan gulped again. This was it.  “It was about two months ago, against the wall of Sugarcube Corner.  You were both there, with Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy.”

Both mares looked at each other before realizing what the occasion.  In the light of the revelation, they both gasped.  

“Applebloom.  Go inside.” said Applejack, “This a matter for the big ponies.”

“But Ah am a big pony!” protested Applebloom as she struggled away.

Twilight watched her leave before turning back to Alan.  “Who are you, really?”

“Alan Aleric.  I’ve come to-”

“How do you know that name?!” asked Twilight angrily.  “I don’t care who put you up to this, but it isn’t funny.  What happened that day really messed up Rainbow Dash. I can’t believe anypony would be so heartless as to-

“He’s tellin’ the truth, sugarcube,” said Applejack quietly, “Ah can tell.  I don’t know how he can be, but he’s tellin’ the truth.”

“What?!” practically screamed Twilight.  “But...but Alan, our Alan, wasn’t even a pony!  We watched him die.  I watched his body burn in the funeral pyre.  I saw Rainbow Dash scatter his ashes.  It’s not possible!”

“I assure you it is,” said Alan carefully, “I’ve been sent back so I can-”

“Sent back?!  By who?!”  cried Twilight.  “Are you implying that there’s life after death?  Why aren’t you, well, whatever you were before?!  Gah!”

“Calm down, sugarcube.  Yer likely to-”

“Likely to what, Applejack?” yelled Twilight, her voice growing more squeaky,  “Break my mind trying to understand the secrets of the universe?!”  Twilight finished her rant, her chest heaving.

“Easy, Twilight, ya might hurt yerself.  Alan, you were about to say why you came back when somepony interrupted ya.  Would ya care to continue?” with this, Applejack gave twilight a pointed look, to which the latter responded by being properly ashamed

Alan sighed and took a deep breath to calm his nerves before explaining.  “I-I came back to apologize to all of you.  All of the ponies I hurt, even if it was by accident.  I’m truly sorry.  Will you forgive me?”

“A’course we forgive you, sugarcube.  Ya’ll didn’t mean ta cause any harm.  Heh, if anything we hurt you a lot more’n you hurt us.  The one you really ought to see is RD, though.  She’s beat herself up real bad over what happened.  Blames herself, and don’t come out in public no more.”

“She’s right,” said Twilight, “Of course we forgive you, but Rainbow is the one you need to go talk to, not us.”

“What do you mean? How is she?”

“Not good,” answered the bumpkin, “She spends all day in that floatin’ house o’ hers and won’t talk to nopony.  Not even her friends.”

“That’s awful!”

“Ah know.  She’s been like that ever since the funeral.”

“It’s my opinion that Rainbow Dash is suffering from post traumatic stress disorder,” said Twilight.  “It would certainly explain her recent attitude.  Maybe talking to you will take her out of it.”

“I hope so,” said Alan dejectedly. “Could-could you please show me how to get there?” he nervously stuttered.

“‘Course we can, sugarcube.  That’s what friends are for, to be there for you in tough times.”

“Friends? We barely met!” asked Alan, visibly puzzled.

“Of course,” said Twilight, “Unless you don’t want to.  You were decent enough to take the trouble to come back and apologize for something that wasn’t your fault to begin with, plus, even though we’ve known you for a very small amount of time, we’ve been through more than most friends have.  There is a saying that a pony’s true colours show through in the worst of circumstances.  Having seen you there, we know you’d make a good friend.”

Truly touched, Alan was at a loss for words.  He opened his mouth several times before Applejack spoke up.

“Ah take it you want t’ go an’ see Rainbow now, right?”

Still speechless, Alan nodded.





As Alan, Applejack, and Twilight walked toward the hill under Rainbow Dash’s house, a sullen and depressed Fluttershy met them coming the other way.  She didn’t seem to see Applejack and Twilight as she walked past, head hanging.

“Hold up, sugarcube,” said Applejack, “What’s wrong with ya?”

Fluttershy started, as if she had just woken up.  “Oh, hi girls...”

“Fluttershy, are you alright?” asked Twilight, concerned.

Fluttershy looked down at her hooves.  “I tried to talk to Rainbow again, and she sent me away.  I was only trying to help...”  She looked on the verge of tears.

“There, there, sugarcube, you know it’s not your fault.  The rest of us have moved on, but RD just cain’t seem to let it go.”

“But-but what if she doesn’t?  What if she stays like this?”

“Ah have a feeling she won’t, honey,” reassured Applejack with a smile, “‘sides, we were just going to see her to try and wrap up this here mess.”

“How?” asked Fluttershy.  “I mean, we’ve all tried to get through to her, how could this time be any different?”

“Cause this time we have him,” said Applejack, pointing at Alan.

“W-who’s he? asked Fluttershy, seeming to shrink back into her mane as she suddenly noticed the male pony who’d been hanging back.

“Alan,” said Twilight.

“W-w-what?!” squeaked Fluttershy in terror.  “B-but Alan is dead!”

“I was,” said Alan.

Fluttershy, seeming to recognize his voice, recoiled even further.  “A-are you a ghost?  Oh no!  Nonononono!”  The timid pegasus started to back away from the group, staring fearfully at Alan.

“I’m alive, Fluttershy,” said Alan, “Don’t be afraid.  Besides, I still need to apologize to you, as well and it’s pretty hard to do if you’re hiding from me.”

“Apologize?” asked Fluttershy, still fearful but now confused, “Why would you want to apologize? You were the victim!”

“Because,” said Alan, “Even though I didn’t mean to, I hurt you by coming to Ponyville.  I messed up things and peo-ponies.  Will you forgive me?”

“Yes,” said Fluttershy, smiling, “Of course I forgive you.  But, how are you here?  I thought you were d-dead.” The last words seemed to be as hard to drag out as a cliff for her.

“I was sent back.  Celestia and Luna had a large part in it.  I wanted to make things right.”

“Sheesh!” muttered Twilight, “That’s more than he told me...”

“Sorry,” apologised Alan sheepishly.

Twilight gave an exasperated sigh.  “Let’s just get to Rainbow’s and get this over with, ok?”

Nodding (and in Alan’s case, gulping), the group, now of four ponies, continued on their way to confront to Rainbow Dash.





As they neared their destination, the clouds seemed to become thicker, and the birds quieter.  Upon reaching the top of the hill in front of Rainbow Dash’s cloud home, Alan was surprised to see signs littering the top of the hill, all bearing notices along the lines of ‘danger’ and ‘keep out’.  The change in the perverse atmosphere was completed  Rainbow’s home itself.  The bright happy white clouds had been replaced by dark grey storm clouds, the rainbows had dried up.

“Rainbow Dash,” called Twilight, “come out, we want to talk to you.”

“Go away!”

“RD, ya’ll come out now,” said Applejack firmly

“I said, go away!”

“B-but Rainbow-,” stuttered Fluttershy, but was cut off.

“I already told you once today, Fluttershy.  Don’t make me repeat myself.  Now get lost, all of you.”

“Rainbow, there’s somepony here to talk to you.”

“Is there?  Well I don’t want to talk to whoever it is, I might hurt him, too.  So... so just leave me alone where I can’t hurt anyone else!”

“You didn’t mean to, and we both know that,” said Alan.

“Who said that?”

“I did.  It’s me, Alan, and  I’ve come back to-”

“Is this some sort of cruel joke?” said Rainbow, poking her head out of the cloud house.  “I don’t know which one of you decided this would be funny, but it’s NOT!  And you!” the blue pegasus pointed an accusing hoof at Alan, “How DARE you pretend to be … pretend to be... HIM?!.  He wasn’t a pony, and he most certainly isn’t YOU.  I saw him die.  I watched his body burn and scattered his ashes myself.  How could you even THINK of doing such a thing?!  Now get lost before I hurt you, too.  ON PURPOSE!”

Alan cowered at the pegasus’ words.  His plan was falling apart.  In coming, he had only make things worse for Rainbow Dash.  Why wouldn’t she believe him?  He couldn’t prove anything.  He hung his head and said, “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” said the blue pegasus in mock disbelief, “Sorry for trying to mislead me?  Sorry for making me feel even worse?  For failing?”

“Yes,” sobbed Alan through hot tears of bitterness, “I’m sorry for failing.  I never should have asked to be allowed to come back.  I should have stayed dead.  I never could have convinced you, and now, I realize that there was never any hope of that.  Celestia believes me, your friends believe me, why can’t you believe me?”

“Because you’re NOT ALAN!”

“Fine.  Even if I’m not, and even if you never will, I’ll still ask you to forgive me.  Even though I apparently didn’t die forgiving you for killing me, I ask you to forgive me for not putting you through that.  And even if you don’t forgive me, which I see now that you won’t, I must ask you to stop this madness.  Your friends need you.  Regardless of what happened, they care about you.  All this time you’ve been trying to protect them from yourself, but you’re just hurting them further with your selfishness.  Now, as you asked, I’m leaving.  I hope you’re happy.”

His failure having drained his will, the workpony began to canter back to Ponyville.  He was just cresting the hill when he heard Rainbow Dash call, “Wait.”

Alan froze.

“I believe you.”

“What? Why?”

“The things you said.  You wouldn’t have said them that way if you were faking it.  I-I forgive you, too.”





*Somewhere in heaven*

“Told you it would work the whole time.”

“Whatever Thomas, now leave me alone, I’ve nearly beat this level.”

The END (AGAIN!)





MLP and its respective characters belong to HASBRO, so please don’t sue me.


Author’s Notes:

Oddly, this bit is longer than the original.  I wasn’t intending to write it, but I actually enjoy this part more that the first part.  After all, who doesn’t enjoy St. Peter playing Angry Birds?

Thanks again to everyone who helped last time, as well as Pyrotigre who coauthored a good deal this time around in addition to editing.  Couldn’t have done it without him.  He should also get some sleep.