Accidental Sunshine (8) (Patreon)

Time Turner stepped inside. He scanned the room in confusion, from the shut curtains to the pile of Ditzy Do's belongings—and Grey-17 half buried in the contents of a box.

"Oh dear. Seems you've gotten yourself in a bit of a predicament." He flicked something on the wall, and light washed over her from above, just like in the hospital. Her eyes hadn't needed that light before, but as a pegasus they did.

"Apologies for letting myself in. But you seemed in distress." He stopped short, staring at her. "Did you... here, Ditzy." He offered a hoof to help her stand, and she did. Then he lifted a few articles of clothing from her. "Let’s pick this up..."

He was far better at this than she was, obviously. No bug in all the swarm had so many things, not even the queen. Books, cloth, little trinkets and photographs. Together they piled them up on a shelf, so at least they weren't scattered all over the floor.

"There, that's done." Time Turner nodded, turning away from the shelf. "I could've helped you unpack if you asked."

She winced, wings splayed awkwardly to either side. "You already helped me so much. It's fine."

The stallion hesitated, tilting his head to one side. With it came a new feeling—confusion? "You've done something with your mane? Yes, that must be it. Haven't seen you wear it like that since you got back from weather school. Does it feel more... familiar this way? Maybe you're starting to remember!"

She shifted nervously, backing away from him. She couldn't exactly examine what was different with her, not with the stallion watching!

"I'm not sure. Maybe." Her wings folded tight, and she tucked her tail firmly behind her. "I did have a little trouble flying down from here. My... friends came! To invite us. You might already know? I'm not sure."

The stallion winced, covering his face with a hoof. "Right. There was talk of a... coming home party. Now that you're out of the hospital, it would be tonight. Unless you're not feeling up to it." He eyed the box tilted on its side, and the curtains all drawn. "I could have a word with everypony. I promise they won't be offended if you would prefer to wait."

"No!" She forced another smile, as confident as she could look. "I really want to see everypony again. I don't remember all their names... but if you can go to help me, I'll be brave."

He nodded wearily. "I'll make time. Besides, they'd be here to drag me out of the lab one way or another. It's best to go quietly with these things.”

He hesitated in the doorway, ears folding again. "Whatever you've done with your mane, it... looks good! I'm sure everypony will love it." He turned away, and shut the door behind him. He radiated embarrassment, so powerful she could taste it until he left the tower.

Not just embarrassed, though. She tasted another kind of love there too, different from his usual concern for her.

Finally she had a second to breathe, and figure out what she'd got wrong. There was a mirror, and it showed her a pony very close to the one she'd been this entire time.

This one was a little leaner, with stronger muscles on her wings—as though she'd just completed difficult, athletic training. Her mane was about the same length, yet bound by a tight ponytail, probably meant for intense flying. Time Turner had said something about weather school?

She found the photo along with all the other things, and lifted it out from under a book. The exact photo she'd used, and now exactly how she looked. Someone had written onto the white part, though of course she couldn't read the text.

She recorded this to remember her time at weather school, Ditzy thought. And I just turned into the wrong version.

A stronger version, probably better at flying than the one she copied out in the desert. But if this one got Time Turner's attention better, it would also make sure she was well fed. Maybe the other ponies would like her more this way too!

[hr]

It was true what Lyra and the other pony told her—she could hear the party before she got there. Even if she hadn't been invited to go, she would probably be drawn to it. The pony “music” was even stranger here, continuing perpetually instead of ending after a few seconds.

She stopped walking more than once as they approached, just so she could concentrate on listening to it better. The sound of loud things in regular, repeating patterns, obviously organized.

"We don't have to go," Time Turner said, lingering on the path just ahead of her. "Really. Ponies understand you need time to recover. No one is going to pressure you."

She hurried past him for the door. Their destination was a strange house, divided in half down the middle. Two distinct organizational principles informed how it was arranged. Like two queens battling for dominion over the same swarm, but somehow neither was victorious.

A face appeared in the doorway—though she'd seen so many ponies now that Grey-17 lost track of them all. Was this one of the many who had come to visit her in the hospital, or another “friend” from Ponyville?

"Ditzy Do. Pleasure you could make it." This was a gray earth pony, with her black mane groomed into something graceful and elegant. "Please, come in. Everypony's waiting."

She moved out of the way, and a wall of sound seemed to physically collide with Grey-17, holding her back.

This was much smaller than Time Turner's lab, closer to the burrow her brood had used. The furniture inside was all pushed against the wall, opening up the center for trays of food, flashing lights, and the machines making all the noise.

A white unicorn was behind them, her eyes obscured with a red covering almost like proper compound eyes. She wasn't making the sound directly—it came from the boxes on either side, and seemed to respond to what she did with her hooves.

Grey-17 stared for so long that the earth pony moved in front of her, looking concerned. "It's the noise, isn't it? Apparently there's a chance for lingering audio sensitivity after an accident like yours. Vinyl, turn it down!"

The unicorn twisted something on her table, and the wall of sound eased to something like a wave. "Sorry," she yelled, much louder than the other pony had spoken. "Wasn't trying to wipe you out."

There was something different about that mare, though Grey-17 couldn't exactly tell what. With all that light and noise and emotion cramped into one room, weak feelings were easily lost.

Grey-17 shrugged. "It sounded great to me! I've never heard anything like it!"

"Neither has anypony else," the earth pony said, exasperated. "Yet they can't get enough. Even at the expense of established genres."

"You know you love me!" Vinyl yelled back. "Here, something chill. Hard to talk with that much emotion." She removed a flat disk from her machine, replacing it with another. As soon as the little arm lowered over it, the sound changed.

Gone was the bombastic noise, replaced with something calmer. Every sound was still unknown to her—not metal, not wood, not stone.

But asking for them to stop and explain it all would probably be too obvious. She needed another way to learn.

"You made it!" Lyra approached, along with the earth pony from that morning. Why did the ones without horns never say their own names?

"You should remember everypony," Time Turner said, approaching from the other side. He stood just next to her, close enough for her to touch his shoulder, barely. "Octavia, Lyra, Bon Bon, Vinyl."

"She didn't forget her whole life," Vinyl said, slipping out from behind her musical machinery. The disk kept playing, though it was somehow less alive than it had been before. Something about her personal involvement made the sound different.

"Well..." Time Turner said, looking sidelong at her. "The damage was... extensive. Broken bones can be set and feathers regrown, but not everything can be so easily mended. The mind requires... patience, and a gentle hoof."

They all looked at her, expectant. She had to tell them something. "I can tell we were close. I remember—" Not really a memory, obviously. She couldn't remember something that never happened to her. But the outcome was the same. "—how important you were. That we were friends. But the rest is gone."

She didn't have to remember their past to feel their love now. They all cared for Ditzy Do, enough that she could feel it on her throat. Not quite enough to fill her up the way Time Turner had during the rescue, but enough to satisfy her. Not all were equally powerful, of course. Time Turner remained the strongest, while the music pony with red glasses was barely detectable, more like an echo of love than the real thing.

So ponies could have feelings in different strengths. Not all were as blindly affectionate as the ones who rescued her.

"That's terrible," Octavia said, nudging her foreleg. "Is it the same with other aspects of your life? The doctors weren't able to... dredge anything up? No experimental spells?"

They had suggested a few experiments, either with chemicals or magic or cutting. But no matter how many offers they made, she refused them all. Time Turner had been understanding through the whole process, always supporting her when he was there.

She couldn't remember anything she'd never experienced. No matter how much she might want to, she couldn't let herself forget the truth. She wasn't the real Ditzy Do.

"Nothing safe," Time Turner said, speaking for her. "There's always a chance of doing more damage with such an involved procedure. The safest thing to do is wait, and stimulate old memories with familiar ponies and places."

"You've come to the right place for familiar!" Vinyl said, grinning wide. "Octavia, do you still have the record from the Royal Canterlot Orchestra?"

"The Hearth's Warming performance?" The mare grinned back. "Of course I do. My filing system is flawless, you know that. I would never misplace something so important."

"And I made your favorite sweets!" the creamy earth pony, Bon Bon, added. She gestured, and Lyra levitated a plate off the table against the wall. It had several spheres on it, faintly shiny.

She leaned in closer, watching.

Grey-17 grimaced, looking for an obvious way out. But Time Turner wasn't going to save her from this one. She leaned forward, then took one of the spheres in her mouth.

It was at once soft and incredibly sweet, more than any fruit she'd ever tasted. But unlike the food Time Turner had brought—unlike any solid thing she'd ever tasted, this one wasn't bitter and awful on her tongue.

She grinned at Bon Bon, nodding enthusiastically. "This is... amazing."

"Made with love," she said, nodding her approval. "So you haven't forgotten everything after all. Have as many as you like."

"Record!" Octavia took it from a shelf, pulling it out from dozens of identical paper sleeves. Those numbers and letters down the spine must mean something to her.

"If there's anything we can do to help you, tell us," Lyra said, resting her hoof over her shoulder. "We're here for you, all of us."

Vinyl settled the record into place, and something very different began to play. Smoother, quieter, yet more intricate. Dozens, maybe hundreds of different sounds, all building together towards a common melody. Like the swarm itself, but in musical form.

Grey-17 had no words to describe something so beautiful, yet invisible. There in the little party, surrounded by creatures who cared about a dead pony, there was only one thing she could do.

She wept for the dead, and the pony she wasn't.