Multiverse Waifu Reckoning


                                            >For over a year you'd shut her out.

                                            >Not out of malice; fear.

                                            >And to think how she crept up undetected, then pulled the rug out from under you.

                                            'Where did *you* come from, Pretty Girl?' you'd thought to the spirit that appeared in your dreams.

                                            >Love-at-first-sight (or "thought", as it were), if there is such a thing. That, or damn near.

                                            >Of course you loved her. You love what she represented, both from her background and from yours. Hell of an epiphany, to realize she was really the One, the top dog, the Alpha. In all honestly, it's still somewhat embarrassing that it took you so long to realize.

                                            >In the early days it was red-hot, and she'd be with you morning, noon, and night- always by your side, always giving you that glance. She's playful. More than that; spunky. Sometimes you could swear she was flirting with you, other times she seemed so distant.

                                            >But she never EVER turned down an opportunity to cuddle, regardless of her mood.

                                            >Most likely a coping mechanism, given how little she can remember. A familiar scent and loving embrace probably means the world to her.

                                            >Sometimes she mutters things in her sleep. The lay Anon wouldn't be able to discern any meaning from her babble, but you knew exactly what she was reliving. She would shake and twitch, and you'd wrap your arms around her barrel and shush in her ear, easing her out of her nightmare.

                                            >You position your head out of her horn's reach before you give her a light shake.

                                            "Condense. Hey, Condense... wake up, babe."

                                            >She twitches again, then gasps; eyes darting in all directions.

                                            "Easy! Eaaaaaasy..." you say, lowering your voice as you ease your grip on her forelegs. "It's just me. You were having a nightmare but it's over now. It's not real."

                                            >Only it was.

                                            >But she does better thinking it wasn't, so you lie and chalk it up as a simple, random bad dream. Yes... it's for the best. You can't stand the thought of seeing her hurt, even though she's got so much pain ahead of her. Maybe that was the reason you left, went out for the proverbial pack of smokes or carton of milk.

                                            >Well, that was part of the reason at least.

                                            >You loved conversing with her, especially at night or when the weather was shit. You'd make a simple dinner, but take your time. Mostly, you'd just tell her random stories from your childhood. Nothing from your old life, though.

                                            >She doesn't need to know about that. Need to know basis only.

                                            >And that's how it stayed for a good while - she'd talk, you'd listen; vice versa. It was simple, and at times, you could *almost* hear her voice.

                                            >Day before Thanksgiving: you get off work early and she's thrilled by your early return. That night you order a pizza and sit on the couch, staring at the television's dark, reflective surface.

                                            >Conversation is light, but there's some tension in the air. After a while it becomes palpable.

                                            >Her nuzzle rubs on the side of your neck. "Hey."

                                            "Hay is for horses."

                                            >She scoffs, shaking her head.

                                            >Ten minutes pass like that- with you staring at the floor underneath the TV and her gaze boring into your right ear.

                                            >"Hey." she repeats, shaking your shoulder this time.

                                            >The sun has set by the time you turn your head those ninety degrees. You focus on her lower eyelids instead of her pupils.

                                            >It's all the response she's going to get at moment, so she presses on.

                                            >"There's absolutely nothing you could have done."

                                            >Your gaze falls to her chest. Hold your breath for eternity.

                                            >Let it out slow through your teeth but not loud enough to hiss.

                                            "I know."

                                            >Her hoof rubs your right leg, a few inches above the knee.

                                            "I had a chance to see him, you know... after we returned from escorting Six and Seven to the HLZ. I'd been up most of the night on watch, and this was as good a time as any to catch up on sleep."

                                            >Scoff and shake your head.

                                            "You know I actually thought to myself, 'I should go see how those two are doing,' before going, 'Nah, I'll go say hi to them before my first guard shift.'"

                                            >Your voice trails off, vision becomes unfocused.

                                            >"And then what happened?" Her voice is almost a whisper.

                                            "We all had a job to do. I had my sector of fire to cover, which was a terrace down and a one-eighty from his. By the time we knew what was happening, he was already gone."

                                            >You don't need to close your eyes to see all the blood.

                                            "I never got to say goodbye. All because I was being lazy. Sometimes I wonder had I gone up there, if something would've caught my eye... maybe I would've pointed something out to those two, given how good I got at spotting. What if that was all it would've taken? 'Hey man, keep an eye on that outcropping to the southwest... especially around sunset. If I was going to attack, that's where I'd do it from.' What if I could've prevented it?"

                                            >She tries to hug you, and for a while, you let her.

                                            >There's more. There's so much more. So much that she'd tread danger close to but always back off at the last minute. Now that she pierced your armor once, the realization that she could do it again makes your stomach turn.

                                            >At some point you got up, headed for the door, but not before reassuring her that you'd be right back- you were just stepping out for some air.

                                            >Thirteen months later, you still can't bring yourself to return.

                                            >Not that you've kept her waiting... stasis is weird like that.

                                            >Still, despite the distance, you can still hear her murmur and whimper in her sleep.

                                            >Tonight is as close as you've come to returning since that night, yet all you can manage to do is stand outside her door and whisper, "I miss you," then trudge off, further down the dim hallway that links your universes.

                                            >In theory, they're compartmentalized but every now and then there's a little bleed-through.

                                            >An untold number of steps and you're standing before a white door adorned with a green "Z".

                                            >What greets you is not the bedroom you expect, but fog. The cold, humid air cuts through your clothes, seeming to cut to the bone in seconds.

                                            >"Hello?" a familiar voice calls out. "Is anyone there?"

                                            >Then she calls your name- your real one. She's barely two meters away but she still can't see you.

                                            >"It's cold. Please don't leave me here."

                                            >Your mind takes you away, and she fades.

                                            >Warmth returns. The setting brightens as the air clears.

                                            >You haven't been here since you were eight. So much has changed since you moved away, but here, it's in memory-mint condition.

                                            >She stands in the middle of the street, the colors of her mane putting the sun to shame, near the sign that says, "Dead End", watching a boy ride a bike. She smiles at his antics and commentary, unaware of your approach.

                                            >The boy stops where the sidewalk ends and dismounts, walking his bike just a few paces into the meadow that separates the neighborhood from the woods some forty meters away.

                                            "My dad told me to never go in there. Said it was dangerous, and that I'd get lost or some bad guy would get me and I'd never be seen from again. Considering the times where we really had bad guys beating on our door at night, I believed him."

                                            >Though she startles a little at your voice, she never truly loses her composure. She doesn't look at you, opting to watch the boy ride back to his house, to the large Texas live oak in the front yard.

                                            >"Why didn't you call the police?"

                                            "Because my dad would get arrested instead."

                                            >"Huh? Why's that?"

                                            "It's complicated."

                                            >"Oh." She looks back to the woods. "But did you ever go in there?"

                                            "I can't remember. Maybe once, with my dad, but that memory is so fuzzy, it could've been a dream.

                                            >Together, you cross the street and follow the boy inside the house.

                                            >Everything is just as you remember it.

                                            >Her right wing removes her aviators. "Cozy," she says, looking around upon crossing the threshold.

                                            "Yeah, it wasn't bad for what it was..." So much floods back into your mind as you step towards the dining room. "Did you know this is the place I think of when I read a lot of greens? I pretend the main characters live in here, or some variation of it. I think I project their setting onto this place, to give me some kind of familiar foundation to start from before I immerse myself."

                                            >"Do you ever think of this place when you write?"

                                            "No. Never."

                                            >"Why not?"

                                            "I don't know."

                                            >"When are you going to visit her?"

                                            "Which 'her'?"

                                            >She stares back, one eyebrow arched.

                                            "I don't know."

                                            >"She's waiting for you. We all are."

                                            "Yeah."

                                            >"You still have to tell my story before you hang up your hat. Otherwise I won't let you claim me with the others, who each have theirs."

                                            "I know... and I will. I just don't know when. Or how."

                                            >Your Omega mare flutters to your eye level. "Do you remember what drew you to me?"

                                            "Of course I do."

                                            >She shakes her head, runs her hoof down the side of your face. "You admire me. Parts of my character resonate so strongly with you, yet you still won't acknowledge the reasons why."

                                            >A yellow hoof comes to rest upon both your shoulders. Her kiss is soft- sweeter than it has any right being, given her reputation.

                                            >"I'm patient. We all are. Remember where you came from. And remember us."

                                            "I will."

                                            >She glares at you. "How 'bout you put a 'Ma'am' at the end of that?"

                                            >You can't help but chuckle, though you do stifle it.

                                            >Kinda.

                                            "I will... Ma'am."

                                            >A grin and a wink comes back to you, then she fades like her predecessor, as does the once-familiar living room.

                                            >Nothing remains but darkness... darkness and a sickly yellow light an unknown distance away in the void, to your two o'clock.

                                            >Time passes and with it, your sense of direction, of gravity, even of self. You pass through the void, away from the light. It's unclear how long you were adrift. Similarly, you don't remember when the stars appeared, but in this moment you hurtle through a densely-packed galaxy's arm, powerless to change course, amazed that your current vector hadn't destroyed you a thousand times over.

                                            >Your heart rate slows once you accept that you're not going to slam into any celestial body. The view from riding this interstellar current is like nothing you've ever experienced; wondrous as it is terrifying. Out here there is no sound, save for something akin to the wind rushing past an open window when driving at high speed.

                                            >Naturally, the moment you begin to enjoy the ride is the same moment the yellow light from earlier returns. It approaches with the sound of a foghorn, only deeper, and devours every planet, every star... anything that dares to impede its path to you.

                                            >By the time you can think 'Oh, shit,' it's already too late.

                                            >But it is not the end.

                                            >No, this isn't the afterlife, but that same damned hallway from before. You know her door is further back, to the left.

                                            >You turn right, and put more distance between you and her.

                                            'I'm sorry.' you think without sparing a glance over your shoulder. 'I'm not ready yet.'

                                            >Like before, a white door appears, complete with the green "Z" you knew it would have.

                                            >Sighing, you steel yourself for whatever you'll find on the other side, then swing the door open.

                                            >It's an indoor pasture. The sole occupant tries to gallop towards an orange cone on the other end of the pasture, but she begins to veer to the right, then overcorrects, now on a collision course with you.

                                            >"Ah! Look out!"

                                            >The collision doesn't hurt, to your mutual surprise, though it does send you both to the grass.

                                            >"Oh my goodness! I'm SO, so sorry!" She says whilst flopping off your steamrolled form. "I didn't know there was anyone else in here with me, and then-"

                                            >Brushing yourself off, you pop upright and chuckle.

                                            "Heh, no harm, no foul. I know you couldn't help it."

                                            >The green mare tilts her head. Her silver-streaked bangs fall, obscuring her right eye.

                                            >"You... you do?"

                                            "It's good to see you Zooma."

                                            >She takes a step back, never breaking eye contact.

                                            "I'm sorry I haven't been around much, sweet girl. I don't want you to think I've abandoned you, especially now, with all you're going through..."

                                            >You wave your right hand through the air.

                                            "I've... I've had a lot on my plate for a while. Been trying to do right by everyone that depends on me, but there hasn't been enough of me to go around. I know that doesn't excuse anything or make what you've had to deal with any better, but..."

                                            >Your hands fall to your sides after a shrug.

                                            "I'm sorry. Really, I am. For all of it. I wish I could make things better, but... Well, you could say your die was somewhat cast by the time I got to you. I'm trying to do my best."

                                            >Zooma's wings rise somewhat- not an aggressive posture, but one that will allow her to take flight at any instant.

                                            >"Forgive me, but... who *are* you?"

                                            "That's, uh... kinda complicated," you respond, scratching the back of your head with a sheepish smile.

                                            >"I'd settle for your name."

                                            >So you tell her.

                                            >She stares at the grass between you, repeating it. "Why is that so familiar?"

                                            >Her sky-blue eyes lock onto you, and you feel a pang of guilt pierce your gut.

                                            >"Why do I feel like I know you? And how do you know my name?"

                                            >How do you begin to explain?

                                            >"Wait!" she says, before gasping. "Are you... are you my Maker?"

                                            "I-" you sigh. "Sort of."

                                            >Zooma frowns, tilting her head. "Sort of? You either are, or you are not."

                                            "Look, this is going to be confusing, vague, and a lot of this is going to be pretty hard to hear, but you're just going to have to trust me, okay?"

                                            >"Okay..." she says, folding her wings.

                                            "No, I didn't 'make' you, per se. Somebody far more talented than me thought you up with thirty-six words."

                                            >"I don't understand."

                                            "I don't expect you to understand. Just hear me out, please."

                                            >"Okay, [redacted]. I'll listen."

                                            "Thank you."

                                            >You pull at your hair; curls catching on your fingers.

                                            "No, I didn't create you in an absolute sense. Like I said, that was somebody else."

                                            >"With only thirty-six words?"

                                            "Yes. Thirty-six words. Barely anything, right?"

                                            >"Right."

                                            "Zooma, with those thirty-six words, he gave you a name, and gave me enough of a glimpse into your soul that I knew exactly who you were. Where you came from, what you've been through- everything. It was such an overwhelming head rush, to get hit with so much information at once."

                                            >"What do you mean?"

                                            >You want to tell her about the "start" of her story- how she meets her first friend, gets a home, finds a purpose, falls in love; all of it.

                                            >But you can't.

                                            >Rather, you won't.

                                            >This will be hard enough for the both of you.

                                            "To oversimplify things, Zooma... I... I write your story. Your origins, your struggles, your triumphs, your life. It's all been me, writing what comes to me from the aether."

                                            >She gives you an awkward smile and begins to back away.

                                            >"Right... I don't mean to be rude, Mister [redacted], but I really must be going..."

                                            "Your latest race- you lost, didn't you?"

                                            >Zooma stops.

                                            "The one before that, you won by the skin of your teeth. It was the first race your sister Star had watched since she fell ill."

                                            >For the first time, her demeanor shifts away from her typical warmth to ambivalence. Her eyes narrow somewhat.

                                            >"There are security cameras all around the compound. You might work here for all I know."

                                            "Trust me, I don't work here."

                                            >"All the same, please excuse me. I need to work on my gallop."

                                            "Zooma, I know things about you that even the monsters that work here don't know about you."

                                            >"Such as?"

                                            >You hold your breath and stare at the ground, silently debating whether or not you really want to open this can of worms.

                                            >"That's what I thought." Zooma says, turning to leave again.

                                            >She's several paces away when you make your decision.

                                            "You love foals. Children. You've always wanted to be a mother."

                                            >Zooma freezes. Not even her ears twitch.

                                            "You've never told a soul that, not even Nightmare Star, whom you trust more than anypony."

                                            >She remains rooted as you walk towards her.

                                            "Before they woke you up, a little voice used to talk to you in the darkness. It would teach you things. After a while, it started calling you 'Luna'."

                                            >Though you haven't yet maneuvered in front of her, Zooma's wince at that name is obvious.

                                            "Then one day, the voice told you it was time to wake up. You saw light- with your eyes- for the first time. Light and a chemical-smelling steam surrounded you. Everything was so new, so wonderful. Finally, you could live! But when the steam cleared-"

                                            >"Stop it! Please!"

                                            >Shit.

                                            >You contemplate a thousand different ways of how to apologize and comfort her whilst she chokes back tears. Unfortunately, your tendency to overanalyze emotional situations leads to inaction on your part.

                                            >"It... you're telling the truth, aren't you?"

                                            "Yes."

                                            >"That means..." Her eyes water again. "That means it was you who-"

                                            >Her voice hardens, tears drip from her narrowed eyes.

                                            >"I can't run like I used to anymore. I- I can't even walk straight!"

                                            "I know. Zooma, you have to understand that-"

                                            >"Do you know what they DO to me here!?" she shrieks as her wings spread. "They TORTURE me!"

                                            >She points a hoof at you.

                                            >"Look!" Zooma kicks out her legs one at a time at different angles.

                                            >You know what she's trying to show you.

                                            >Small circular burn marks from electrodes, around the fetlocks.

                                            "See these scars? YOU tortured me! Why!?"

                                            >What do you do? How do you justify what you've put her through? Not only that, how can you look her in the eye knowing full well what she has yet to endure- what you still haven't written? How can you tell her to have faith in you when there's still tribulations on the horizon; suffering YOU will create for her?

                                            >Zooma drops to her haunches. She doesn't fold her wings, but lets them hang limp at her sides as she looks at the ground.

                                            >"How could you do this to me?"

                                            >It's getting hard to see.

                                            >"What did I do to deserve this?"

                                            >This was a mistake. Then again, what did you expect would happen once you dropped those bombs on her?

                                            >Wind begins to blow. It starts to erode the pasture, carrying it away in sand-like particles.

                                            >Zooma looks up. Like the pasture, she too begins to disintegrate. "What's happening!?"

                                            "I- I have to go."

                                            >Talk about horrible timing.

                                            >"But-"

                                            >Only her neck and head remain. She looks at you, wide eyed, hoping for salvation.

                                            "I love you, sweet girl. I promise-"

                                            >She's gone.

                                            >Once again, you're alone.


                                            ...


                                            >Where are you?

                                            >This house seems familiar, but strange at the same time.

                                            >As you walk by a mirror on the wall, you do a double take.

                                            >That's not your face. Those aren't your eyes. You don't have those scars.

                                            >But you do.

                                            >Furthermore, you become acutely aware that you are incomplete; kept functioning by flawed parts.

                                            >You're so tired. So, so tired.

                                            >There's only one thing you want in this moment.

                                            >Limping up the stairs to your room, you breathe a sigh of relief when you crack the door open and peer inside.

                                            >She's right where you knew she'd be; fast asleep. Just as she's been for thirteen months.

                                            >You dare not wake her up, despite wanting nothing more than to hear her voice again, to see her captivating eyes, her beautiful smile.

                                            >Taking care not to shift the bed too much, you crawl over far enough to kiss her cheek. The little sigh she lets out damn near shatters your resolve.

                                            >There's so much you have to do, so much you have to complete and come to terms with before you wake her again.

                                            >Tonight, however, you'll allow yourself to crawl under the covers next to her.

                                            >She's so warm; so soft.

                                            >As you run your fingers through her mane, a wing slides over you and her hind legs snake around your waist.

                                            >Her soft, steady breathing tickles your neck.

                                            >You close your eyes, wishing you could hold her like this forever.

                                            >Just as you drift to sleep, you jerk awake.

                                            >Condense is gone.

                                            >You're back in the real world, in a lonely hotel room.