Just Act Natural

Rarity’s father, a beast of a stallion, wears the very same straw hat I remember him wearing, and that tasteless floral shirt a different shade of white than his greyish white coat of fur, distinguished by three footballs on his hindquarters. In contrast to his coat, his hooves are dark as coal, and his deep brown hair almost seems to sway out from under the brim of that straw hat, completing it with a neatly groomed moustache growing from the end of his nose. His blue eyes match his mother’s. I mean my mother’s. I mean his wife’s.

Rarity’s mother has the same blue frilly shirt and white pants I remember, the very first pants ever seen in the show if I recall, mostly concealing her deep pink coat of fur and her cutie mark. Her mane is done up into that impossibly gigantic bun, with an ill fitting sun visor shoved over and around it, looking rather ineffective with the way it can’t get past her impressively long horn.

Sitting at Rarity’s kitchen table, the two look a lot different than that carefree happy-go-lucky attitude they had in the show, upon returning from their vacation. I dare say the two of them both look pleased as punch to see us. The last two ponies I ever expected, or wanted to see, and they look pleased as punch.

“Please excuse us for one moment,” Rarity says politely, then physically drags my frozen form back into the hallway.

“Just. Act. Natural.” she whispers harshly in my face.

Then she shoves me back into the kitchen. I don’t have time to turn my head and look at her questioningly, I don’t—I, uh...

Uh.

“Hi...” I venture uneasily to the verylarge ponies who I remember so well for their brief appearance. It was the wrong thing to say, but anything is the wrong thing to say at this point, as far as I can tell.

“What?” the rotund mare jibes, in that thickly nasal voice of hers, straight out of the Bronx. “Not happy to see us?”

“Yes,” I say intelligently, “I mean, no I mean, um...” I look at Rarity, in a panic. What am I supposed to say?

“What Sweetie is trying to say is,” Rarity clairifies, while I try to figure out which way is up again—I mean—while I try to figure out what story to go with. “Yes we are both so delighted to see you!” she declares in a very bright tone, then in a disaffected afterthought, “And we have some matters to discuss.”

“Oh, those can wait,” says my... she says... not Rarity, the other she, the mom she. “We’ve been gone for so long, I just want to give you both a big hug!” She stands from the table and comes our way, and Rarity nudges me forward, and the most fucked up thing about all this is that these are my parents.

I know they’re not my parents, but these are my parents!

I can’t even look at them, without feeling the same way that I feel around Rarity except... more. They’re just so familiar! Not just from the show. It can’t just be from the show. But—like... I don’t know. Maybe Sweetie’s memories are finally starting to bleed over? Because I can remember them from that one time other than the show that...

uh...

Nothing’s coming to mind. My mom hugs me.

She feels like my mom, is the thing. She’s so soft and accepting, and she has plenty of room for both me and Rarity despite Rarity being just as...big as she is. My father nuzzles my mane in that heartwarming way that he always... but he never did, because I can’t remember a thing. It just feels so familiar. It’s almost like I didn’t get one single memory of Sweetie Belle’s, but I inherited all of her feelings completely intact.

Actually that would explain a lot.

"What's wrong, Sweetie Belle?” mom asks. I shouldn’t think of her like that though. What was her name again? She’s not my real mom; it’s just this stupid body! She worries over my mane, wuffling out, “You’re positively downcast!”

“Oh, no. I’m fine,” I say shaking my head free. I look at Rarity again. Does she want me to tell them? Do they already know?

“So nice to know they’ve resumed carriage service,” Rarity says quickly, “I hadn’t thought you would be arriving yet,” giving them a very broad smile. Oh god they don’t know, do they. “I trust your return was not otherwise delayed?”

“Oh, no,” dad corrects her over the back of his dismissive and very large hoof, “But we couldn’t go one more day without seein’ ya, not one day longer, so we pulled a few strings to get here. The cab driver was very reasonable, once Snookums had a word with him.”

“I charmed him with my marely wiles,” mom declares, with a coy wink.

Oh so that’s what it feels like. I had always wondered how it feels, coming to realize that your mother and father had sex at least once. I don’t know if I’m more nauseous because of that, or because of the paranoid terror that grips me. Those two they oh jeez charmed with eughk

“I need to use the bathroom,” I say very calmly and confidently, except they’re all staring at me in worry for some reason. Worry about me? What a silly idea, haha!

I raise a hoof. Oh wow I have hooves! Haha. I...don’t know if I can turn around easily without pushing off of the walls in this little kitchen. I look behind me at the door, but how to get there? It’s not a little kitchen I mean, but I really needed a lot of space to turn around yesterday. So naturally, I moonwalk the fuck out of—oh right I don’t know how to walk backwards, either.

“It’s right up the... stairs, Sweetie...” Rarity says, in a supremely conflicted fashion, then with a frustrated huff just grabs me by my scruff and gallops out of the kitchen.

With a twist of her neck, I’m flying through the air; Rarity’s magic grabs me, and shoves me firmly onto her back. From there, it’s up the stairs at a rate many ponies with upset stomachs would disapprove of. It’s only an instant though, and she’s there in front of the bathroom, dumping me right off.

I try to stand up, from my familiar status as a miserable pile of pony on the floor, and Rarity tells me raggedly, “We are going to tell them. I was intending to tell them! Just, let me do the talking, and hurry up and use the toilet.”

I’d say something, but I’m kind of trying not to throw up right now. I don’t have anything to throw up though, since we didn’t even eat lunch! I just... crap how do you walk again! 1,3,right... push with... okay, I walk into the bathroom and look at the bowl on the floor and—oh god, dry heaving. I have got to calm down; this isn’t healthy. Okay, I’m in the bathroom... shit I was supposed to call it a toilet room. I’m in the toilet room, taking deep breaths trying to get my hairs to stop standing on end. I look at myself in the mirror and, yeah, just as I suspected. Sweetie Belle in there, is looking frazzled as all heck.

“Sweetie, we need to talk,” I tell my reflection. It doesn’t answer of course, because it’s just a reflection. But the real Sweetie Belle... probably doesn’t think I was addressing her directly. “C’mon Sweetie,” I say tiredly, letting my head sink to the porcelain sink. “I really need you to tell me about your parents. What should I say? Who are they really? Does football exist, and do they call it hoofball or what?”

After a second, I open one eye and lift my head. “Sweetie?” I ask the empty air. “Sweetie, this isn’t funny,” I say with a horrible tremble in my voice. “Come on Sweetie, I know you can talk to me, please. Sweetie Belle!”

The bathroom is silent.

“Sweetie Belle...” I say tremulously, backing against the wall and looking around at nothing. “S-sweetie Belle? You can’t y-you can’t...”

Okay, I am calm. I can remain calm. I can she might not come back if I don’t get help! It might be too late any minute now! “Help!” I yelp out, turning for—I fall down, but pick myself up again, crawling for the door. The door opens in my face knocking me over again, but I don’t care. “Rarity, he҉lp!” I desperately squeal, as my sister rushes in.

“Sweetie Belle, what’s wrong?!” she asks in sudden panicked worry.

“Sweetie Belle is gone!” I wail, struggling to my feet again but it’s not working right.

“What?!” Rarity shouts back at me.

“I can’t—!” I can’t tell her though! I can’t hear Sweetie, but I need help! She needs help! “She was here, I swe҉ar!” I verbally backpedal, frantically making it to my feet—toes—hooves!

“Sweetie Belle, she’s... you’re not gone, Sweetie Belle,” Rarity says in furious admonishment. “You’re right here! It’s okay Sweetie, you need to remain calm!”

“I am calm!” I shriek. “I am standing right here!” shouting between breaths. “I can walk! I can stand and walk! I’m not...” I’m not really sure what happens after that, but all I can remember is Rarity’s face wavering through the tears, and fading, and... then... I’m on something soft.

I’m in bed?

I peep my eyes open, and I’m in my bed, which is to say Sweetie Belle’s bed. Was it all a... oh, and Rarity is at the side of the bed looking very worried, while my parents are on the other side, also looking at me full of worry. I guess it wasn’t all a dream. I can’t say I don’t feel a lot better though. What was that just then?

“You just had a bit of a fainting spell, Sweetie,” Rarity tells me gently, without prompting.

“Is that ...normal for me?” I ask her in a fickle tone of voice.

“Sure as hay it ain’t!” my father... her father angrily cuts in.

“You were awfully scared Sweetie,” Rarity says, her eyes darting from him to me. “It’s not normal for anypony to swoon under such conditions, but you’re not normally so very... under so much stress as you are now.”

“Well, what is so stressful about going to the toilet?” mom says irately. I try to get up out of bed as best as I can. Thankfully the confusion that dogged my brain seems to have cleared. I still have a bit of trouble getting down though, and this time instead of Rarity’s hooves, it’s the pink hooves of my mother lifting me and easing me to the floor, to stand unsteadily beside my bed, in my room in Rarity’s boutique, with my loving parents on either side, and my sister standing at the foot of the bed, closer to the door.

She better not be getting ready to make a break for it.

“Now that she’s awake,” mom says in a very ticked off manner, “Are you going to tell us what the hay is going on?”

Rarity even stumbles over her own words, saying, “Yes, um, you see it’s nothing very seriously bad persay, depending on your interpretation, you see, it’s...”

I save Rarity from her nerve wracked difficulty, in saying it, by saying it myself.

“I have amnesia,” I tell my parents in a serious tone of voice. “Also I have trouble walking,” I add, “And I have been getting some help to remember how to walk again.”

“Y—thank you, Sweetie,” Rarity says, her shoulders sagging as her head dips down in resigned relief.

I wish I had a camera for the look on my parent’s faces. Utterly priceless. You don’t see horrified confusion like that come along every day. Alas the moment is spent berefit of photography equipment, and I really didn’t want to antagonize these ponies, and mom shouts “What?!” while dad shouts, “How?!”

“Sweetie just ran into some—” Rarity starts, before I cut her off again, trying to amend their panic, sitting up to say,

“I ran away.”

They’re all just looking at me now, so I take a breath and continue. “My friends and I snuck down to a place in the Badlands, to help Scootaloo with Rainbow Dash. We um, got into trouble with an ancient thing, and when Rarity found me, I was just like this. You have to ask them though, if you want to know more, because I don’t remember any of it until Rarity saved me.”

“...because I have amnesia,” I make sure to confirm.

“That’s the most—” dad manages to rough out, before mom interrupts, exclaiming to Rarity scathingly,

“You watch over your little sister for one week, and that happens? What is wrong with you?”

“Why are you yelling at her?!” I say in a hurt tone. I wish they weren’t, but the memories are rushing back to me. I do exactly what I have to do in this situation. Redirect his enmity at yourself, then he won’t be able to hurt either you or your sister, because you have the immunity of being an honorable defender in his eyes. “I ran away, not her! Rarity didn’t do anything wrong!”

And now he rips into me and picks at my defenses, trying to find some way to get to me, so he can still win. Naturally I ready to drop all defenses, and pretend to give into his every demand, making him feel powerful and for the moment, satisfied. “Sweetie,” my dad says in an even tone, with an appeasing smile, “You’re such a good filly, standing up for your big sister. But you’re too young to know what you’re doing. Your older sister shoulda known better.”

I...compliments? Smiles? Oh. Oh, right. This isn’t my dad it’s... Sweetie’s mom. And her dad. I... have no idea how to respond to this. And now, mom is adding emotionally, “Oh my dear little girl, I should nevera left you alone!” pulling me to her chest and wrapping her warm neck behind mine. And over her shoulder, dad’s nodding at her approvingly.

I’m... “You could have... left me... alone?” I claim intelligently all smooshed feeling. “It’s um... it’s okay, I promise?”

“No Sweetie, it is true,” Rarity says admissively, as my mom releases me to stand shakily, my older sister facing me and her, squarely. “I was not a good sister to you, and I should have treated you with more care and less... antagonism. But I have since, I feel, more than made up for it—”

“Oh, here we go!” mom drawls out with a roll of her eyes. “Can’t even own up to something without pulling out the excuses.”

“They are not excuses, mother!” Rarity says in frustration. “I really did do everything I could to help my dear sister!”

“After you let her get hurt,” dad cuts in seriously, “When you were supposed to be watchin’ over her.”

“I’m not that hurt,” I mutter. “I’m just sort of...” but they’re both rounding on Rarity now, who in irate protest, retorts to our parents hotly,

“And since then, I have done nothing but watch over her! I have learned from my mistakes, and she’s... she’s perfectly fine! She just can’t... walk well anymore, or remember her... life... and perhaps a few t-terrible nightmares but,” Rarity backs up a step.

“Nightmares?!” mom exclaims, “This is serious, Rarity! Look, whatever you done to her, you can’t just sweep it under the rug and everypony forgets about it.”

“We put our trust in you,” dad says angrily, “And you let us down, and you let your sister down.”

“She saved my life!” I shout at their backs. Their butts. Oh no, I’m not looking at my parents’ genitals, nope. Thankfully, they wholly turn to look at me in the silence. Wait why am I thankful for that. Oh god. Rarity herself seems caught halfway between furious and sorrowful, unsure of where her tears should go.

“She followed us all the way out into the desert,” I say frantically. “The Badlands. We didn’t bring water I I don’t know why I forget but we were in big trouble out there, then something happened something really bad was happening to me, and Rarity stopped it, and carried me home. She... saved me...” I can’t really stand steadily anymore on my shaky legs, so before I fall, mom cradles me and ...puts me on her back. Hm.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” dad says, rounding on Rarity again.

And mom is right behind him, swivelling smoothly and saying, “You were just gonna wait until we got back from vacation to let us know?”

Rarity sniffs, saying “I assure you mother, I have had the situation as under control as poss—”

“You call this under control?” mom says swinging a hoof vaguely at me on her back.

“She fainted!” dad adds in agitated urgency.

“You fainted!” Rarity snaps back at him.

“And this has been goin’ on all week?” he retorts, completely ignoring that last remark.

“You’re right, I should have mailed you the moment anything happened,” Rarity cries sarcastically. “And let you take care of everything for me!”

I really don’t know what to do. Should I defend her? Is she wrong? Who’s supposed to be angry at whom? I’m not used to family, help!

“Is it so much to expect that I might be responsible for once?” Rarity says supremely offended. “I was taking care of it, and I did tell you there were matters to discuss!”

“With you, that could mean the end of the world, or a bad manecut,” mom responds to her with another disapproving eye roll.

“You shoulda just mailed us,” dad explains patiently, “And told us right away. We’d have been here lickety split, and you wouldn’t have had to—”

“She’s my sister!” Rarity shouts at him tearfully. “It was my responsibility. It was my week! I wanted to...” her voice just kind of dies out as she stands there, with a terrible look on her teary eyed face, of horror, realization, and shame.

“...excuse me please,” she says quietly, and runs out of the room as fast as her hooves can carry her.

In the thick silence afterwards, I end up saying “Shouldn’t... somepony go after her?” That seems to break my parents out of their shock, and mom sits back on her haunches right away, covering her face with her front hooves saying,

“I can’t believe I just went and did that!”

“And right in front of Sweetie Belle too,” dad says putting a hoof on her shoulder. “What a way to end a vacation.”

“I’m so sorry Sweetie,” mom says putting her hooves down and twisting to look directly at me. “We’re a family we shouldn’t be fighting like that. Your sister is just sometimes so... but that’s no excuse, and I’m sorry if we upset you just now.”

“I–I’m fine, really,” I state staring at her uncertainly. “I just got really um... I mean, how hurt do you think I am?”

“Oh I don’t even know,” she says in exasperation, turning forward and hanging her head. “Just the thought of my sweet little filly getting hurt is just terrible, ya know?”

“Something about amnesia?” dad asks looking over her head at me thoughtfully. “That’s a thing where you forget stuff, right?”

“I... think so?” I say.

“I mean, yes,” I say a bit less wafflingly. “I don’t remember... almost everything. The um... thing in the Badlands... did that. But I remember how to talk at least, and I remember you. I remember... some things about Ponyville. Um...” Gosh, I would love to get some time alone, right now. If I could talk with the real Sweetie Belle, she could fill me in on all sorts of

Oh.

No.

It all comes rushing back to me. That’s why I passed out! That’s why I was so upset earlier! The real Sweetie Belle was gone! I couldn’t get her to talk to me! I’m immediately locked in a rising panic, wondering what I should do, if I should tell them but no... look how upset they got at Rarity, over just the suggestion she might be hurt. They’d be screaming and wailing and hurting and dying if they found out Sweetie Belle was... w-was... d-didn’t have a way to...come back. She’s just having trouble coming back, that’s all. I can just ease them into it slowly, while she’s r-resting inside me, and talk to Lyra and she’ll know how to bring Sweetie back. She has to! But I don’t even know Lyra!

“Please Sweetie,” mom exclaims with a pained grimace, “Not so tight! Are you really okay? You’ll get better, I promise! You can just... learn everything again!”

After realizing I’m grabbing my mother with a vicelike death grip, I force my legs to stop squeezing her very pliable flanks. “I–I–I’m fine,” I say with a broad smile. “J–just had a thought about... not remembering, I mean it’s really sad but you’re right I can totally get better I ca—” I swallow shakily. “J-just check on Rarity. We should, I mean. Check on her.”

“I dunno Sweetie,” dad says looking around the door out of the kitchen reluctantly. “You know how your sister can get sometimes.” He jerks his head back then and looks at me awkwardly saying, “I mean, you do, right? Or did you forget all that too?”

I blink at him cluelessly, but my rusty gears do manage to turn, before he gets even more alarmed as I say, “Yes, I remember she cries a lot and... takes things seriously. Once she um... got embarassed at a fashion show, and she was going to go into exile because of it. I don’t... remember anything else specific. But yeah, a little...”

“I dunno about a fashion show,” mom says looking over to dad. “That was a look in her I haven’t seen in quite a while.”

Now that I have to force myself to calm down, I can vaguely hear the sound of sobbing coming from the other side of the house. Why is she sobbing? I should be the one sobbing! She isn’t the one who got Sweetie Belle k–uh— in even more trouble. Both my parents—no, no her parents—the parents of the filly I have to save somehow, both go trundling reluctantly up the stairs after Rarity. With me on my mom’s back, I end up coming along for the ride. Rarity is pretty much completely incoherent behind the door to her room, at least I certainly don’t speak blubber. And... she’s locked her door. So, there’s that.

“Believe me honey, the best thing we can do is leave her alone right now,” dad says appeasingly to me. Wait, to me?

“I know you want us to go and check on her,” mom says in an apologetic manner, “But it’s okay, you know how your sister can be. She’ll get it all out of her system, and then we can have a nice long good, friendly chat.”

“You do know, right?” dad asks me uncertainly.

I blink at him. “Oh! Yes, I know how Rarity can... be. You didn’t have to do it just because I asked...”

“What exactly don’t you remember?” mom asks in a puzzled tone.

This is going to be a long afternoon.

“Where did you go on vacation?”

“The Bahaymas.”

I can’t believe I didn’t think of this before.

“Are those a tropical island?”

“Yes, Sweetie. You remember that?”

“I u-uh yeah I do.”

This is such a good idea.

“What do you do?”

“...answer questions?”

“No uh, I mean, what do you... oh! What’s your special talent?”

“We’re chefs by trade, but each with different specialties, as you can see right... oh, gosh these stupid pants!” Mom stares at her butt irately, while I busily tell them everything I don’t remember, by asking them about absolutely everything.

“Don’t you get hot in those? Or, do you usually wear them? ...aren’t the baha...aymas hot?”

“That’s three questions, Sweetie,” dad tells me gently.

“Be nice honey,” mom snarks at him, “They’re related.” Down here, we’ve retreated to Rarity’s kitchen, where I was slid off mom’s back to sit at the table, vaguely like a pony is supposed to sit, while they stand before me, helping me so much. And... my god they’re so big, and... and friendly!

“No, we don’t Sweetie,” mom answers me, “These are to keep us cool in the hot sun. We just haven’t had a chance to undress since we got back.”

“Clothes keep you... cool?” I ask in total confusion.

“Well, yeah?” mom responds, seeming confused herself. “Unless they’re thermal fabrics? I don’t know honey. You’d have to ask your sister. It’s her specialty!”

Telling them everything I don’t remember. It’s the most obvious excuse ever, to mine ponies for information! I can still figure this out! Sweetie will be b...back in no time. Maybe I should check if she’s back.

“Can I go to the toilet?”

“I dunno honey, can you?” Dad says.

“I... what?”

I don’t like that smirk dad is giving—hey! “Very funny,” I say disapprovingly. “As a matter of fact, I...”

I can’t make it to the toilet on my own, right? No, I won’t do that to them. Not after that. I’ve got to at least...

“I can try!” I tell him assertively. Then, I purposefully flop down to the floor. Rolling to my side lets me rotate on my side like a poor quality turntable. That works better than expected. Facing the right direction now, I stand u—oops. I um... I heave my hooves into the air and stand up... yeah. Okay I’m standing up, and facing the right direction. Now I just have to... figure out stairs...

“Sweetie?” my father says in no small amount of alarm. “You alright? You can make it, right? You’re looking mighty shaky there.”

With a gulp, I admit, “That’s the biggest thing that I... forgot, is h-how to walk. I’ve been practicing all week though, and I think I’m starting to get it! ...back. Starting to get it back.”

With one hoof after the—wait no wrong hoof. Ugh! Okay, start with counting. I step 1, 3, 2...4. Repeat, without counting. Onethreetwofor! Okay no, that was sort of counting. Just 1, 3, walk, walk okay walking. With that train of thought broadcast very obviously in my ungainly movements, I begin walking out the door—

“You sure, Sweetie?” mom says worriedly. “Your father didn’t know you were really having trouble. He didn’t mean it like that!”

“What she said,” dad says behind me. I can’t listen to them and walk at the same time though. It totally makes me lose my concentration. Approaching from behind, his concerned voice says down to me, “Why don’t you just let me—”

“No!” I interrupt him hastily. “No, I can do it. Just... let me concentrate.” Through a mixture of counting to warm up my engines, and not counting, and concentration, I fulfill the amazing task of walking through the hallway into Rarity’s show room. There’s a u-u-uh, a pony there.

“Is miss Rarity available?” a chestnut colored mare with purple hair leans down and asks me, in a thickly fruity voice. I’ve never seen her in my life, in or out of show. I... guess Rarity is seeing customers?

“No she’s not,” I say uncertainly, trying not to let my desperation show. “She had to close this afternoon, because of family... um...” That’s as far as I get before my parents trot up behind me to save my words from their untimely death.

“Oh, sorry hon,” mom tells the mare in easy embarassment, “We just got back from vacation y’see, and had some ummm catchin’ up to do. Things went a little unplanned. I’m sure she can see you later though? What’s ya name?”

“Cocoa Twist,” the chestnut mare says with a grateful look at my mom. “I’m sorry this was such a bad time, but I was inquiring as to the progress of my harvest festival gown.”

“I’ll make sure to tell her,” mom says, with a nervous smile. “Sorry for the inconvenience!”

“No trouble at all, miss...?” she says, my mom quickly responding amiably.

“Cookie Belle,” she says, “You mighta seen me at the big bakery northeast of here, but I bet nothing that you’ve tasted my cookies!”

“The Cookie Crumbles!” the mare says with a bright smile. “Not only that, but I bet you’ve used my ingredients!”

“Oh yeah!” mom responds with equal enthusiasm. “Chocolate chip is a huge hit among the foals. So glad Ponyville’s growin’ something besides apples these days, you know?”

And it’s only now that I notice the mare, Cocoa being her name, has a bona fide chocolate bar as a cutie mark. My eyes trail from there to a movement up the stairs, where Rarity has ventured part of the way down, just barely looking around the curve of the stairwell. She vanishes back upstairs, the moment our eyes meet. Hm.

“It’s not much,” Cocoa says to mom, giggling self consciously, “I do what I can. I simply can’t imagine why chocolate fell out of production here!”

“Somethin’ about the trees being harder to grow I guess?” mom, er... Cookie Belle says speculatively. “I just bake ‘em.”

“A little effort makes it all worth it when you put a smile on somepony’s face,” the mare says heartily. “Now, unless you’ve turned into a dressmaker, I’m afraid I just wanted to stop by for a moment. I’ve a crèche or two that needs checking.”

“Don’t let me keep you,” mom says amiably. “It was nice meetin’ you!”

“Likewise Mrs. Belle!” Cocoa says happily, trotting right out the door.

Well, that was a thing that happened.

“Earth to Sweetie,” mom says, once again confirming that we’re on a habitable planet, and waving a bright pink hoof in front of my eyes. “You don’t have to be so shy! It’s not like you. You have to tell us if something’s wrong.”

“N-nothing’s wrong I just... bathroom,” I state worriedly. “I just have to go to the bathroom. Um... yes.”

A pause.

“Because it’s right next to the toilet room!” I add hastily. “Because I totally need to um, use the toilet.”

“Well, go ahead,” quips dad encouragingly if a bit uneasily. “Don’t let us stop you!”

“Oh, right!” I gulp, facing forward. “Um... one moment.”

I lift a hoof and... no, I don’t have any trouble waddling up to the stairwell. It’s empty clear to the top where it curves around to reach the upper level. The stairs though, I just don’t know. I can rear up easily enough, and place my front hooves on the ...second step, but when I try to walk up them, like I’ve been walking forward, I’m just too bottom heavy. I mean, I literally fall back onto my bottom, with a disturbingly cute squeak. From my mouth.

It only takes me three tries to give up the ghost. There’s got to be some trick to it. I can’t hold onto the railing and, now that I look at it, the railing clearly isn’t meant for holding onto. Do I just pull myself up the stairs? But I don’t have any arms! Oh, well I technically do, but they feel like legs now. Legs that don’t pull!

“I’m uh... I might need some help,” I casually mention, after somehow managing to fall all the way onto my back at the bottom of the stairwell, laying there looking up at their concerned snouts.

“Sure thing, Sweetums,” dad says, nosing underneath me to right me, then biting down on my neck and hauling me up—apparantly dads can scruff too—and trotting quickly up the stairs, before setting me right down again.

“Thanks... thank you, I mean,” I say, not wanting to appear ...impolite? I look and... there’s the bath—err—toilet room, off to the right of here. Walking forward until my nose bumps against the wall, I easily push myself around facing the proper direction, and hug the wall all the way, until I enter the door to the most private sanctum I have managed to find in this world. It doesn’t help my mood that right before I’m out of earshot, I can hear my mother mention to dad worriedly, “I’ve never seen anything like it!”

But, whether ears up or ears down, I’m once again alone.

“Sweetie Belle,” I whisper, standing beside the toilet bowl. “Can you hear me? Please answer, I need to know you’re okay.” There’s no answer. With a shuddering sigh I continue to whisper, “I don’t know if you can hear me, but... I’m going to fix this. I’m going to find Lyra right away as soon as I can, and we’re going to get you back s-somehow.”

“It’ll be okay, Sweetie,” I whisper. To her? To myself too. “It’ll be okay, Sweetie...”

I don’t even know why I came up here. What did I think she was just going to magically reappear? Technically she did magically reappear the first time, but now I’m supposed to be able to predict it, and it’s supposed to happen when it’s most convenient? I’ve got to do something, and I’ve got to get to Lyra, but first I have to deal with—

“Hey, Sweetie you done in there?” my dad’s muffled voice comes through the door. “Hurry it up I need to use the loo too.” Pausing to consider my... bladder situation, it’s silly but I really don’t need to pee at all. I foolishly went back at the hospital, just before we came here, so now I can’t get more than the barest trickle out, despite straining. I suppose I didn’t have to even make an effort, but I didn’t want to lie even more if I could help it. But with just a bit of soiled tissue flushed down the drain, I walk straight to the wall, and then orient myself to toddle the fuck out of there.

“Sorry I took so long,” I say upon walking out of there. He just shakes his head dismissively, and trots past me, the door closing behind him. And oh noooo I walk the fuuuck away from there. One hoof after another, yes, 1,um... what was the number again? Oh, just walk already! I manage to get far enough without falling on my face, that the the happenings in that room are certainly far too inaudible to lead me to think about my own father’s thick penis. No wait. Sweetie Belle’s father’s thick... thing I’m not thinking about, that he uses to pee with. After I do fall on my face and pick myself up again, I notice mom is there, looking like she’s trying not to laugh.

“Gotta say the shy thing really doesn’t suit ya,” she says amusedly. “With your looks on top of it, you’re putting it on way too thick. You trying to be all uptight like your sister now?”

“Rarity’s not uptight!” I protest. “She’s elegant.”

“Well, do me a favor and let your sister handle that sort of thing,” mom says, “And you keep on being curious and sincere, like the sweet little filly that you are.”

“I’ll um... try,” I say reservedly. Wait, my... looks? “And Rarity has good looks too!” I insist belatedly. “She’s a beautiful pony even when she wakes up in the morning and brushes her teeth!”

“Oh I know Sweetie,” mom says with an apologetic ear wilt, “She just has that elegant grace that’s kind of intimidating, you know? So she puts off a bit of vulnerability and it makes her so scrumptious the stallions can hardly resist!”

Wait no, wait when did the conversation go this way.

“And you, you’re... beautiful in a way that...” mom continues humming uncertainly before concluding, “I don’t think anypony could ever be intimidated by it. You just look so friendly, and approachable! I think you got it from your father to be honest.”

“She got what from me now?” dad says cheekily, poking his head out of the bathroom on his way out.

“You see?” mom says happily to me. “Just look at that face!”

I look and through his bristly moustache he looks... sort of lost? I don’t really know what she’s seeing. Then again, I didn’t marry the fellow.

Oh jeez, I could marry a man. If this keeps up... sufficiently long, and I don’t end up male again, I could end up with a stallion like this in bed with me, without anyone or anypony’s sexuality being questioned beyond my own. Though I quail at the fact that I have to be the one looking some stallion in the face and telling him “I do,” it is pretty glorious to think about the sheer amount of butthurt that would generate.

What I’d do is I’d take a selfie, and post it on tumblr with the message “me and my gay lover #bunintheoven.” Not that I would ever become pregnant in a million years, but it would just be the sort of thing to write that gets people riled up, and smacks them, with a clue by four made of solid cognitive dissonance. I’m just softhearted, I guess. Whenever people are trapped in a broken paradigm like that, it just warms my heart to upset them, disorient them, and give them one more chance to break free.

Not like tumblr exists in ponyland....

“Alrighty then dears, long as we’re upstairs,” mom says, pausing to look at Rarity’s (still) closed door, “We may as well just start gettin’ you packed.”

I look at her and... oh. “That’s right!” I say in realization. “You’re back from vacation that means... so I was just staying with Rarity this week, and usually I live with you?”

“Oh hon, your memory’s coming back?” mom says in excitement.

I blink, then shake my head slightly, saying, “No, just that. Nothing else is coming to me.”

“We better get started if we want to get cross town before evening,” dad says with a hearty whuff. “Got a lot to pack, after all!”

I nod at him, and then at my mom, saying, “Okay, let’s... let’s get started then.”

One trundle across the hallway again, and I’m already feeling exhausted. Just remembering what hoof to put in front of what is so draining, especially with how slowly I move, and taking into account the horribly curving walls of this place’s hallways.

I have to lean against the wall, sighing and looking at my stupid hooves. “Sorry, it’s just hard to learrremember how to do this,” I say to my parents, barely catching myself at my shaky alibi. If they found out, it would hurt them so bad... I just can’t bear to see it. Besides, what could they do to help? They’re just my parents.

...Sweetie Belle’s parents.

I need a... a professional who’s like, professional detachment and stuff. I can only hope Sweetie’s tip about Lyra will pan out. Maybe I should see like a... therapist or something. But wouldn’t a therapist freak out even more, when I don’t fit their assumption of just being crazy? If there’s anything I’ve learned about therapists, in my old world at least, they won’t ever consider that what torments you is anything more than a delusion, and a personal failing on your part, that you alone can fix. No, what I need is a research scientist. I can only hope that Lyra’s the one I’m looking for, because I am solid out of options at this point.

My parents manage to usher me into my room, where my father removes his straw hat with the power of his mind, revealing to everyone, everywhere, forever that he is indeed a unicorn. How the heck did his horn fit under that hat? Oh it... oh. I remember the same thing happens to me, when I put on a helmet. Maybe horns are retractable or something? I mean, for a colorful spiral of bone, it sure doesn’t seem retractable. Just... magic space shenanigans, I guess. But a magic straw hat? Why didn’t he just cut a hole?

I’m going to ask, but then I find myself captivated as my parents busily help me pack my stuff. “You just rest, Sweetie,” mom says to me beside the door as things begin to levitate around her, “We’ll get everything ready for ya lickety split!”

Lickety split is right. When my parents get going, it looks like Twilight is reshelving the library, and granted it’s both of them working together, but there’s still a lot of stuff flying around in all directions! Are they controlling them all independently? Isn’t this kind of powerful for a unicorn? I mean Twilight was hella powerful compared to most, right?

I squint and watch more closely, and it’s really fascinating, because if you pay attention you can see that a lot of the magic is being used judiciously. As in, magic to unlock something, but a hoof to pull it open, or magic to fold piles of clothing, but a nose to lift it and hindquarters to carry it.

Whatever division of labor this is, magic is fucking awesome! But it’s not so much the skillful use of telekinesis that impresses me, so much as the revelations regarding my living situation.

Mom’s magic is a different shade of blue only slightly, but it’s pretty obvious from how it feels different from dad’s. I watch it illuminate the covers of my bed, removing the thin blanket, the sheets, the pillows, and then the... mattress. Then the mattress comes apart into sections! Then in the area underneath the mattress is filled with a whole bunch of containers like, cases. The mattress parts go into some of them and then... the bed frame... they’re packing the bed! Of course! That explains everything!

Wait, was I trying to explain something? I don’t get it, but I’m very curious. I manage to walk over there, and... there’s practically nothing left of the bed, just a ton of pastel colored, neatly closed cases. A cylinder for the mattress’s... core I guess, and some square suitcases for the bed posts, and a bunch of weird lumpy ones that have the mattress parts, and the panels all slide neatly into a rectangular pink one. I mean granted there’s a whole lot of these suitcases, but still, that bed broke down right nicely and it wasn’t... really a kind of bed you’d expect to be temporary. I guess one pony’s sturdy oak is another pony’s modular design?

At least they don’t take the dresser. That thing is one solid block of wood, and I’d be scared if there were a quick way to disassemble that. But the toy chest? That goes right into the pile. The posters on the wall? Yup. Even the rug folds up, and then rolls up to fit into a compact cylinder. The contents of the dresser, mostly clothing for some unfathomable reason, get folded neatly into luggage bags, the kind with the wheels on them and the handle you pull behind you with your hand, while you’re walking on two legs, as a human. What we end up with is a whole ton of disparate looking suitcases and chests that looks strangely familiar for some reason.

I have to say I inspect that clothing, with more than just a cursory glance. It appears to be um... dresses of some fashion, sized to fit the particular pony posterior that perpetually ...follows me. Damn I almost had that alliteration, too. Not just dresses, what look like t-shirts, and striped socks, and lots of hair thingies that I... never wear. Oh my, and the Cutie Mark Crusaders cape. I suppose wearing that all the time would ruin it, but there it was in one of the drawers. That blue and gold pony symbol really does look crudely stitched onto the back. It’s so beautiful. Um... rather large purple sunglasses, and a broad brimmed purple hat. Like three scarves. Why was any of this stuff even packed?

“Oh hey Sweetie,” dad says, finally noticing me nosing around at everything curiously. “You wanna help a bit after all?”

“Could I?” I ask skeptically, turning that nose to face him nervously. “I don’t have any magic I mean... I might but I haven’t even tried it yet.”

“Oh Sweetums, don’t worry you’ll get better at magic,” he says with something of a strained smile. “But until then, you can carry stuff the ordinary way.” With that confident statement, he uses his dark tipped hoof to knock one of those rolling luggage cases over crashing down on top of me wait what—! Oh.

The handle for pulling the luggage falls, and slips right over my head entirely, and the case tilts up on its wheels behind me. This isn’t a handle, after all. It’s a harness. I’m... I’m harnessed to a suitcase. My life is weird.

Then he throws like three more on there, and the pile behind me is now noticeably taller than I am. “Can ya get those?” he asks pleasantly giving me an expectant look. I... honestly don’t know the answer to that. Sure, no problem? Not in a million years can I pull more than my own body weight on those two tiny little wheels?

I walk forward and with a jerk the luggage pulls me back. But it isn’t heavy as it looks, so I try walking forward again and it starts rolling along behind me. “I guess—” losing concentration, I trip over my hooves, not quite falling over, but the luggage harness thing digs into my chest. Or whatever you call the part of me facing forward, below my chin. But isn’t my chest really the part facing downward, behind me? Why does it feel like my shoulders, then?

Grimacing at my own confusion, I say plainly and simply, standing still, “I guess... I can.” Then, I just ignore the weird sensations, and lift hoof number one, and... 1,3,walk, walk, etc. I’m... sort of getting this! The doorway out of the room yawns around me, as I go smoothly through it, my little hooves clipping on the firm surface of the hallway. I’m outside of my room now, all on my own. Or whatever that room was, that I’ve been sleeping in. Looking back, I note with some surprise that none of this luggage behind me has fallen off. Looking forward, I note that Rarity’s hall curves around, so I’m now nose-to-nose with the wall, and have to figure out how to turn left again.

It’s a lot harder to do, when you’re attached to several suitcases.

Why couldn’t Rarity live in a square building?

My parents pick up the luggage behind me, that does fall as I fight myself around to line up with the hallway, replacing it on my improvised pony cart to give me another shot at it. Several awkward turns later, I find myself facing the...stairwell.

I sigh hotly. “Darn it!” I say, with my voice catching in a worrisome way. Why does everything have to be so hard, and frustrating! I can’t even do the simplest things. They’re taking care of everything, and I’m not helping at all. I shouldn’t be upset; there’s nothing wrong with a genuine inability, that I’m just not practiced enough to overcome. But I am. Why can’t I just... why do I have to wait here like an idiot, and I don’t even know how to lift this luggage harness off of me. It’s so unfair!

“Sorry, I... need some help,” I mumble, wiping my totally dry eyes with a totally dry side of my fuzzy hoof. I made it like what, 20 feet before having to ask that? This is so fucked up... and now Sweetie is in trouble again! Maybe! And I’ve got to figure out how to save her!

“What’s that Sweetie?” mom asks, and then she says in abrupt realization, “Oh, the stairs! Are you having trouble with them?”

“Yeah, I... I just don’t want to fall,” I admit mutedly.

“Well don’t worry,” she says, cheating and levitating the handle of the luggage off over my head, my pastel curls shuffing as it slides past and they fall back into place. “You just cool your hooves here, while your father and I get the stuff into the carriage.”

They start trucking everything downstairs, and I watch in frustrated but resigned interest. They don’t just magic everything, and even have some trouble with the really heavy looking wheely ones, bumping them down a step at a time. It’s interesting, but... well, I dunno, I just... have other things on my mind.

While they’re doing so, I take a look over at my siste—at Rarity’s closed door. I wonder if she’s willing to come out yet? That bottomless pit of my stomach is pretty empty right now, and I was sort of hoping she’d make something to eat. Not that I’m greedy or anything; I just don’t want to try to make something myself. Even if I’m not as bad at Sweetie at cooking, trying to do it in my current state would be an unmitigated disaster. Rarity’s a great cook though and... I hope she’s doing okay.

Squaring my shoulders... my elbow shoulders, I start toddling over in that direction, away from the stairs. Arriving at the door I say, “Rarity?” but there’s no answer. I lift a hoof to clumsily knock and... it pushes the door open a crack. Rarity’s door isn’t locked anymore, or even latched. It was just barely closed. I wonder why—ugh. There isn’t any sound coming from within, either. I’ve just got to make sure she’s okay, even if it is her room... I shouldn’t be trespassing, but maybe just to check and make sure she’s still here and... okay.

Pushing the door open enough to squeeze through, the eternally undying inner fanboy in me is squeeing at the sight of Rarity’s signature four poster bed, complete with crimson sheets, table lamp, and thick magenta curtains tied up along the diamond checkered pillars that dominate her boutique’s interior design. The soulless, calculating inner scientist in me is wondering if her bed is as modular as mine was, but the fanboy is squeeing. And the ...something inner something in me is sort of noticing that Rarity is in here after all. She’s lying there limp there in her bed, with her side slowly rising and falling.

But what catches in my heart, is that curled against her, also sound asleep, is a sizeable persian cat, whose purple highlights to her long fur make her identity unmistakable. Opalescence must just have climbed up in bed with Rarity, and gone to sleep with her. Rarity’s pearly white body is slightly curled around Opal, with a limp hoof resting in front of the cat. If Opalescence minds the very slight horsey breathing Rarity is making, she sure doesn’t show it, with the soft, almost imperceptible rise and fall of her own ribcage. Opal’s forepaws are splayed out in front of her, one limp on top of Rarity’s forehoof, the other pressed against it. The thickest, fluffiest part of her back is pressed right up against Rarity’s underside.

Have you ever had a cat sleeping against your belly? No, I mean, without any clothing on. Heaven doesn’t even begin to describe it. I really don’t want to disturb one hair on either of their hides. Yet here I am facing my sister, with the door out of here solidly behind me.

...shit.