>You are Oz.
>It’s been a couple of months since you and Anon had broken free from his brother’s crazy schemes. You two have been on the road for a while, especially since you were able to pull up the local news report and his WANTED! Profile from the internet. 
>It was amusing to hear them describe Anon as a “former soldier suffering from PTSD, considered to be armed and extremely dangerous, aided by unknown female accomplice, both wanted in the robbery of a warehouse and murder of several men”. Well, not amusing to Anon. You, however, found how they had treated you two like you were in the wrong as funny, in a cosmic sort of way.
>Anon had gone into town, leaving you in this odd motel room. It seemed to be themed as an old 70’s hang out joint, complete with a contraption known as a hookah and a hot tub. The floor even had shag carpeting. You had flipped around the TV channels dully, trying to find something to occupy yourself that wasn’t your own thoughts.
>You finally settle on a TV show discussing video games past and present, the theme being “touching moments that made you think”. You sighed as you watched the clips. You wished you could distract yourself with some game you could download, but Anon had been perfectly clear that until he figured it out, you couldn’t go using the data plan in case they tried to track you.
>Spoilsport. He meant well though.
>A different scene comes on, referencing a recent RPG. The backstory was explained, and then a robotic voice crackled over the scene.
>”Does this unit have a soul?”
>You rewound the scene (this cheap motel had DVR for some reason) and watched it again. Something seemed to reach out to you.
>”Does this unit have a soul?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`
>You are Anon.
>You had gone into town for not only supplies, but you needed cash. Living on the lam was expensive.
>Even more expensive was this hacker you had gotten into contact with. He wasn’t just a hacker, but a programmer too. You had been referred to him to help with your….rather unique situation. 
>Oz was connected to your old contract almost twenty-four-seven. If your brother had any brains, which he seemed to have aplenty…he could use that to track her and therefore you. 
>The girl, named Lin, was nice enough even if she dressed like one of them inner-city freaks you heard about. More metal on her then a transmission, and enough ink and hair gel to put Sylvester Stallone to shame. 
>For a rather hefty sum, she was willing to help you tweak Oz’s programming to change just enough so she couldn’t be tracked, which meant you two could finally stop somewhere and settle down for a bit, take a breather. Of course, you were going to ask Oz’s permission first. She trusted you to do the right thing, and so far you had.
>As far as you could tell.
>You were glad Lin hadn’t asked too many questions, but slightly curious. She had simply said something along the lines of “I’ve done this sort of thing before” which made you wonder just how many more Ozzes were out there, if that’s what she meant.
>Rather than steal the money (you still had a conscience, and it took the form of a white unicorn) you looked for a quiet job. You had found one that was rather well suited to your talents.
>You were rather excited it too. Of course that meant living in the motel and you knew Oz was starting to get cabin fever. Then again, it wasn’t like you could exactly go out in public with your “marefriend”. People would talk, and that wouldn’t end well.
>You unlocked the hotel door, a brown paper sack of food held in one arm. You paused and did your special knock.
>It was simple, but it was the best way you had of letting Oz know it was in fact you at the door. 
>You entered the room and shut the door with your boot.
“Oz, I’m back. Picked up some of that cheese tortilinino or whatever the hell it is you like…”
>As you set the sack down on the table, you paused. There was a quiet sniffling coming from the bathroom at the back of the room.
“Oz?”
>You reach behind you to draw the 1911 you traded your revolver for a while back. You check to make sure there’s a round in the chamber and cock the hammer back. Slowly, you make your way to the bathroom door, which is ajar just slightly. You pause at the door before slowly forcing it open, weapon at the ready.
>The bathroom is rather spacious for a cheap motel, but empty of anyone except Oz, who’s sitting in the tub looking like she’s been crying a lot. A lot of empty airplane bottles litter the floor.
>She’s raided the mini bar.
“Oz?”
>You try again, decocking the weapon and holstering it. She looks up at you with red-rimmed eyes.
>”A-anon…”
>You sigh and sit down next to her, brushing a few empty bottles away. You pick up one that hasn’t been open yet. You grimace at the thought of tequila but uncap it and down the bottle. As it burns its way down your throat, you wrap an arm around her shoulders. She looks down at the floor for a moment before speaking.
>”A-anon….what are we doing?”
“Right now, we’re sitting on the floor, drinking booze. It looks like you got a nice head start on me though.” 
>Your attempt at humor is noted but seems to fall short of its mark as she shakes her head.
>”No, I mean…why are we continuing this existence? We keep moving in an uncertain direction hoping to keep ahead of Mike and his cohorts, never ceasing our travels, not even for more than a day. And for what? A family feud? To keep the fair damsel safe from the dragon?”
>She levitates a small bottle of Grey Goose up, and you cringe inwardly. Goose and you had a bad history. She manages to drink it, coughing and sniffling. “….am I even worth the trouble?” She seems to be talking to herself now. “Do I even matter? Does this uni-do I have a soul?”
>So this is what’s going on. She’s beginning to get tired of this life on the run. Granted, so were you, but you’ve been deployed. You were used to it. But Oz was…well, she was more fragile then you. And that soul question…that was some deep thinking there. 
>Could you blame her? She basically has had nothing to do –but- think.
>As she goes to open another bottle, you grab it out of her magic grasp. She blinks and looks at you as you drink it out and almost gag. Goose again.
“You know what I thought when I first saw you standing in my kitchen, drenched in rain and scared shitless, Oz?”
>You don’t give her a chance to respond.
“I thought ‘whoa, there’s a talking pony in my house’. And then I realized something when you sneezed. You were a living being. From there, you’ve done nothing but continue to prove how much you exist. You have thoughts, you have feelings…hell, you’ve taught me how to feel again.”
>She looks at you in surprise as it’s your turn to look down. 
“We run because of the obvious: we’re wanted fugitives. But also because you are special. Not because of what you are…but –who- you are. The pony I know and…”
>You hesitate for a second. You want to say love, you really do. You almost died for this pony. And still…memories of past heartbreak keep your stubborn hillbilly pride from admitting the truth about your feelings.
“…I know and deeply care for. That’s something worth fighting for, and I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with this and deal with me. Lord knows I ain’t the greatest guy to be doing all this hero stuff.”
>You look up at the ceiling for support, but the white surface gives nothing to you.
“Despite what my shithead of a family member thinks, you are so much more then whatever program you were designed to be. You aren’t iOS or some patched software or even a glitch. You are Oz. You matter to me. And the answer to your question…is yes.”
>With a dark chuckle, you open the last bottle and drain it. Finally some goddamn whiskey.
“More then I got anyway.”
>There’s a long awkward silence as the two of you sit there, comteplating the words you have just spoken. After a sigh, Oz manages to stand up and she gives you a soft kiss. Her eyes are watering, but she doesn’t seem to be as sad. If anything, she seems a little more at peace.
>”T-thank you, Anon. For everything. I’m sorry, I just don’t know what came over me. I was watching this depressing television show, and then I got to thinking, and then…”
>You don’t say a word, just hugging her closer. The two of you are quiet as you embrace.
[spoiler]And then there was sex later. I’m still not comfortable with my clop writing, so enjoy.[/spoiler]