Friends. What does it mean to be friends? Twilight Sparkle wonders just what it was that drew these five girls together, what keeps them together, and where she fits in... if she fits in at all.
It's been a month since Twilight Sparkle, human student, made friends with six strangers and saved Canterlot High from the Sirens. Only, with the danger gone and a semblance of normality restored, she wonders what it is about these girls, so disparate in nature, that makes them such good friends, and what her role is as their friend.
It's not helping that another Twilight Sparkle reunited them first, almost half a year ago, but her friends are determined to show her that she belongs, and that they like her.
It’s hard to believe that it’s been a month already.
Twilight looked up from her journal to the friends she had made in that month. Four of them were in various stages of packing Applejack’s van. Well, at least, one of them was. Rainbow was napping in the back seat while Applejack finished loading the rest of the luggage.
“Hey! Can ya stop jostlin’ the ride?”
“Sure!” A bag with a rainbow bolt emblazoned in shining plastic sailed over the seat-back. “Just as soon as it’s packed.”
“Oof!” Rainbow jerked upright, rubbing at her head. “Watch it! I’m nappin’!”
“Yeah, and I’m doin’ all the work.” Another bag thumped in the back. “You could’ve at least loaded your own bags instead of just tossin’ em on the pile!”
“Gimme a break, I just got back from trouncing the Shadowbolts at a game. I’m exhausted.”
Applejack tossed a glance at Twilight and softened the landing of the next bag. “Alright. Jus’ promise me you’ll—” she leaned forward to hold a whispered conversation.
Twilight blushed and leaned back against the front porch pillar, tapping a foot against the concrete. Shadows from the spreading oak in front of the house flickered back and forth in a light, late morning breeze, and the open page of her journal asked her to tell it more.
They’re getting ready for a trip to the beach for Spring Break. It’s also sort of a break from the drama of the last month and a half for them. I still don’t believe half of what happened, despite being involved in the half that made the least sense. Ponies? And Sunset’s one of them?
Her hand curled of its own accord into almost a hoof. It was hard to believe that creatures that couldn’t even hold a pen could be as smart as Sunset. And Sunset was at least as intelligent as the majority of Star Swirl’s student body.
She’s not coming. She’s got something going on with the sirens or... something.I don’t pretend to understand how that works. Something about reconnecting with others from her homeworld?
Anyway, the girls have been on this kind of trip before, they said, freshman year. They’re still a little fuzzy about what happened sophomore year, but I get the impression none of them are proud of it. And that it has something to do with... me. Except not me. They tried to explain that there was another me. That’s the hardest to wrap my head around. Not just someone who looks like me, but another, whole me.
The rest of it? Princesses? Monsters? I mean, I saw magic. Real magic. I can believe that. I understand that. Those are real, concrete things that I have touched, and witnessed, and… I think used. Maybe. The girls
Rainbow Dash poked her head out the side of the van. “Hey, Twi. You gonna write in that book the whole time?”
Twilight glanced at the unfinished line, sighed, and finished the thought before she looked up. “Well, no. I’m just not sure what I can do. The organizing is already done. All that’s left is doing.”
“Yeah, well, we kinda want you to do stuff with us. That’s, like, the whole point!”
“Oh, leave her alone, Rainbow Dash. She’ll do what she wants. This is a vacation to relax, after all.” Rarity patted Twilight’s head lightly. “It may be new to all of you—” She sighed when Rainbow opened her mouth. “—excepting you, Rainbow, darling.”
Rainbow visibly bristled. “I am not darling.”
“Psh-tosh. Of course you are. But I know how good it can feel to just relax and do nothing.”
“And y’all have done nothin’ this whole morning!” Applejack punctuated her statement by tossing Rarity’s last piece of luggage in the back of the van. “I mean, gosh darnit. I’ve done all the packin’.”
“Pinkie Pie and I have been most busy making lunches for all of us, for your information.” Rarity’s hand strayed down to pat Twilight’s cheek.
The close contact felt odd, but Twilight forced herself to stay still—it was just something Rarity did.
“And Twilight here has been trying to deal with all of us, the poor dear. Why, it’s a miracle she’s still sane.”
“I know.” Applejack wiped the back of her hand across her forehead, and nodded to Twilight. “I’m just hopin’ you’ll open up to us. I mean, we’re friends’n’all, right? But I keep gettin’ the feeling that you’re not comfortable.” She shot a glance at Rainbow and shrugged. “We like ya a bunch, and it’d be a darn shame if we just let it go.”
Rainbow nodded vigorously from the van’s side-door. “Yeah! We want to know more about you!”
“And I like you all, too. And I will.” Twilight looked down at the unfinished entry and closed the book. “I promise. I-it’s been a lot to take in. That’s all. I mean, would you believe me if I told you that you all had pony versions of yourselves that—” She looked down again at the book, the cover designed like the embroidery on her vest. Somewhere, there was another one of her with the same mark. “It’s just a lot to take in.”
“Don’t we know it!” Rarity patted Twilight’s cheek again. “I wonder... where is... ah. There she is.” Rarity waved to a yellow bug just turning down the street to Applejack’s ranch house. “Can’t very well go without games now, can we?”
“Of course not! I still don’t understand why you didn’t let me go to buy some games. I would totally have picked the best games!” Pinkie danced around Rarity and Twilight, her arms full of bags of sandwiches, drinks, and chips. “Hi, Fluttershy!” she screamed.
Twilight winced and leaned back. “You know she can’t hear you, right? She’s not even halfway down the street.”
“When Pinkie wants to be heard, she’s heard.” Rarity rubbed at her ear. “Trust me.”
“Spluh. I mean, why would I be shouting if she couldn’t hear me? It wouldn’t make any sense.” Pinkie handed the bags off to Applejack.
All Twilight could do was stare. “But that doesn’t—”
“Hush, dear. Don’t hurt your brain.” Rarity smiled down at her and patted her cheek again. “It’ll only lead to more questions.”
Fluttershy’s bug hummed into place next to the much larger van, and even Rainbow Dash got out to see what games Fluttershy had bought especially for the trip.
“I’ve got the games, girls!” she called out, dragging a large box and two smaller bags out of her back seat.
“Aw yeah! Badminton!” Rainbow shoved the box haphazardly on top of the luggage. “Hey, AJ! You an’ me, tomorrow!”
“You lookin’ for a rematch? You’re on!”
Pinkie took the two smaller bags and rifled through them. A moment later, her grin never faltering, she handed them off to Rarity. “No Twister? Bummer.”
“You always win, Pinkie,” Rarity said, unpacking the bags into the scant space left in the middle row of seats. "Thank you, Fluttershy, for bringing some games we all have a chance of winning.”
“You’re welcome! I’ve always wanted to play Badminton. So much more peaceful than tennis.”
Twilight watched from the front porch steps, uncertainty of her place in this group of friends growing again.
“Ooh, travel chess.” Rarity held up the little box and waved it at Twilight. “You know, I used to play a mean game. I’ll play a few games with you.”
One last glance at her journal, and she shoved it back into her backpack. “Sure! It’ll be fun.”
With the last of the baggage and the snacks for the trip packed, Applejack slammed the doors shut and took out her keys. “All aboard the beach retreat express!”
My friends.
The words on the page looked odd. She’d scrawled them out rather than taken her time, and it looked sloppy next to the rest of the entry.
“My friends,” Twilight whispered, drowned out by the myriad of other noises in the van. The words felt better when she said them, and brought a smile to her face. It was too bumpy in the van to do much writing, and whenever she tried to doodle, it turned into a sloppy, lumpy mess. In the silence between radio stations and trying to sing along with Pinkie Pie and the others, she’d taken to re-reading old entries.
The sound of the tires on pavement, the sound of her friends chatting, and the radio filled her with an unusual sensation. She couldn’t put words to it, exactly. Research, then. She stared at the page, written a few weeks ago, clicking her pen against her teeth, and read.
Is it happiness? I don’t know if I’ve ever been this happy to be around other people. I don’t have any baseline to gauge it against except Shining Armor and Cadance, and they both let me do my own thing. Most of the time. Does being friends mean giving up some of that freedom? Does it matter if I lose it? Was I happy before? Am I happy now?
Was that what the feeling was? The words on the page, written by a Twilight she barely knew anymore, didn’t give her any more answers.
“Questions... more questions. None of my textbooks ever said anything about friendship.” Which was a lie, and she knew it. Sociology, psychology, sciences hard and soft, had much to say about the role of friendships. But they never said what those friendships felt like, or how they could be… magical.
With a sigh, Twilight closed the journal again, marking her place with a folded piece of ribbon and tapped her fingers on the binding. Outside her window, the landscape rolled by and mile markers flashed by one after another, counting down to wherever they were going.
Louder, she said: “I forgot to ask. Where is the beach house?”
“What’s that?” Applejack risked a glance behind, then snapped her eyes forward again when Rarity slapped her arm.
“She was asking where the beach house is.” Rarity twisted around in the front seat and smiled at Twilight, sandwiched between the door and a bag of snacks in the middle seat. “It’s my parent’s vacation getaway, north of Las Pegasus. A very nice, secluded beach. And the sunsets...” Rarity beamed a smile at her. “They’re the stuff of dreams.”
Pinkie popped her head over the towering bag of snacks. “Rarity’s, like, super rich. And her family’s got bags and bags of money everywhere.”
“Psh-tosh. We are comfortable, Pinkie Pie. My parents just wanted someplace relaxing they could visit any time of the year. It was a good investment.” Rarity sighed. “Was. They’re thinking of selling it.” She slapped Applejack’s arm again. “Watch the road! I would like to get there in one piece.”
“I am watchin’ the road. I’m just surprised to hear your parents would sell the place, is all. Isn’t that where you—” Applejack flinched again. “Would you quit hittin’ me?”
“Girls, please.” Fluttershy, sitting behind Twilight, was barely audible over the other noise.
“You are not watching the road!”
“Am too! Besides, this old jalopy, well, she might not look like much, but she keeps it straight and level. Don’t ya, girl?” Applejack took her hands off the wheel. “See?”
“Applejack!” The van swerved as Rarity grabbed a hold of the wheel.
“Girls!” Fluttershy’s shout cut through the noise of everything else going on, and seemed to even command the road to be quieter. “Please, behave yourselves. Is this how you want our first vacation with Twilight to be remembered?”
“No.”
“Nope.”
“Then please, try not to act like chldren.”
Silence fell for a short stretch of road before Pinkie twisted around in her seat to talk with Rainbow Dash in hushed tones. Well, hushed for Pinkie Pie. Tales of pranks they had played, and pranks they could play came back in snippets and snatches of conversation. Applejack and Rarity struck up a debate about scenery as opposed to memories.
If Twilight’s past experiences with their arguments was anything to go by, it was going to get heated after Applejack got too blunt, and Rarity too hyperbolic. It was just a matter of time. And then things would settle down again. They always did.
Of them all, Fluttershy seemed the least interested in talking. It was easy to forget that she was there, except for the occasional tap on her arm, followed by the chess game being passed back and forth.
Rarity had gotten frustrated after two games left her trounced inside of two dozen moves, and tended to go for the bold stroke. Fluttershy, for all of her quiet, was more thoughtful and played a more timid, if intelligent, game. It was hard to trap her in a gambit, and harder to tell what she was thinking.
Twilight studied the game for a moment, then used a pawn to take Fluttershy’s last knight and passed it back. It would leave Twilight’s bishop exposed to a counter by a rook, but if Fluttershy took the bait...
More moves passed back and forth. Fluttershy didn’t take the bait, and had offered Twilight several other counter-traps in return. Minutes began to pass between exchanges of the board, and the sun crept ever lower, bathing the surrounding plains in golden light.
Tractors could be seen in distant fields, churning up dust clouds as they prepared the ground for planting season. It was just like her old road trips. Except, instead of Smarty Pants or Shining Armor, she was playing chess with Fluttershy.
“Are we there yet?”
“Five more minutes, Pinkie Pie.” Rarity shook her head and snorted.
“Really? Because, it’s five hours to Las Pegasus, and we’re only—”
“She ain’t pullin’ your chain this time, Pinkie.” Applejack pointed at a sign. “We’ll be there in, how long?”
“It’s about twenty miles.”
“That is so not five minutes,” Pinkie grumped, folding her arms over her chest.
The sun was well into its descent, just above the horizon, by the time the van rambled down a winding gravel road. It was less of a road and more of a slope that just happened to lead where they were going. Little had been done to improve it, but that didn’t distract from the view that swept in and out of sight down the long path.
“...and you just know Prim Hemline’s tastes are to die for. This was her ‘Get away from the high life’ vacation home. Obviously, it was the first to go when her fashion line a decade ago was met with less than adoration. And daddy, being the savvy businessman he is, offered to cover her production costs in exchange for some pieces of property. This is the last one he’s kept. For... sentimental reasons.”
“That’s why it’s so surprising they’re willin’ to sell it. This is a piece of your childhood, Rarity.”
“Oh, I-I know.”
The catch in Rarity’s voice tugged Twilight’s attention away from the slow roll of waves. “Then why don’t you try to convince them to keep it?”
“Because sometimes, it’s important to move on and grow up. I am growing into a young woman, and the things I enjoyed as a child shouldn’t hold such sway over my decisions.”
A doll at the bottom of her memory chest back home flashed through Twilight's mind. Stitches falling apart, fabric faded, and both glassy eyes long ago replaced by shiny-turned-dull buttons. She tried to imagine giving up her Smarty Pants doll.
She couldn’t. Logic said the doll was old, and well past its prime. So why have I kept it?
“Maybe,” Twilight said, “because you loved it.”
“Loved it? Yes. I suppose I did.” The forlorn note in Rarity’s voice suggested far more than supposition. She stared out the window at the craggy limestone cliff as the house drew closer. “But it is hard to maintain, all the way out here. Shouldn’t I let them sell it before it gets to be too much?”
“Hogwash. If you love it, don’t just let it go.” Applejack reached over to hold Rarity’s hand gently. “Hold onto what you love.”
“It...” The house came into view around the cliff, and Rarity sniffed, squeezing Applejack's hand in return. “You may have a point, Applejack. Even just seeing the old place brings back such happy memories.”
Maybe that’s what friendship is, Twilight thought. Her fingers itched to hold her pen, to write down the idea, but the gravel road was even worse for writing than the straight, smoother highway. Besides, the sun was even lower, and the few scrub trees lining the pathway down sent shadows flickering through the van that would have made reading, let alone writing, even harder.
Rarity shook her head again as the house, a glittering golden collection of cubic shapes, appeared around a bend. “But it is getting awful expensive to maintain. Why, just last year, we had to replace the roof after mold caught in the shingles.” Rarity shook her head again and drew her hand away. “I can see why they want to get rid of it. Just the labor alone was close to thirty thousand. Bussing them out, lodging, and the delays. Materials were… a lot cheaper. Less than ten percent of the total cost.”
“They let you know a lot about it,” Twilight said. “My parents didn’t even tell me how much Star Swirl cost until I asked them.”
“I want to be a businesswoman someday, Twilight. I’ve made that no secret to them. It’s a part of learning.”
“I suppose that makes sense. If it’s that expensive to maintain, I can see the logic.” But what if it cost me as much to keep Smarty Pants whole? It had cost her time away from learning to learn how to sew well enough to make the button eyes almost seem right, and patch up the seams. Shining had helped somewhat. Of course, he was the reason the eyes had popped off and the seams got strained in the first place.
Twilight shook her head slowly and smiled. “But I don’t think I could let go.”
“You gotta show em what it means to you.” Applejack glanced back at the four faces looking out through the windshield, and turned back around before Rarity could scold her. “What it means to all of us. Heck, I’d be willing to help out. I may not be able to donate money, but I can fix things up. I’d just need money for supplies. And a bribe for Big Mac.”
“I could paint. Oooh! And party planning. I could raise money like that.”
“I could raise some money to help out, maybe.” Rainbow scrubbed the back of her neck. “I mean, what was I gonna spend my paycheck on, anyway? Shoes?” She shrugged. “It’s not much, but... I suppose I could also help AJ with the work.”
“I could put a donation jar in the vet clinic for it. You know, tips. I don’t think the owner would mind.”
The van fell silent for a moment, an expectant silence.
“I could organize? I mean... and...” What can I even do? Ask my parents for money? “I could also—”
“Well, we will need help getting it all organized,” Rarity said, turning to rest her hand on Twilight’s knee. “It is quite a large undertaking. For such a small house, I mean.” She squeezed gently. “Thank you.”
“I-I haven’t done anything yet.”
“Hogwash. You’ve done plenty. Why, I doubt I woulda passed my history test if it weren’t for those flash cards.”
The van filled with her friends telling her things she’d done, homework help, mostly, as the crunch and grind of gravel gave way to the hiss of sand and dirt for the last hundred feet. The golden crowned home was getting lost in the gloom of approaching night and the molten gold clouds drifting low over the distant horizon.
The van’s constant, low rumble faded into the tick-tick-ticking of cooling steel. The rush crash of waves on the shore swelled as the van doors swung open, sending a whistling breeze through the interior.
“Welcome,” Rarity said, stepping out of the van and sweeping her arms open to the cool night air, “to Casa De Rarity!”
Sand crunched under Twilight’s feet, and her arms prickled with goosebumps as the wind rose and fell with the sound of the waves a few hundred feet from the house, bringing warmer air and a hint of salty freshness.
“Come on, girls. Let’s get everything inside! You do not want to be caught outside when the fog rolls in.” Rarity waved a hand at the low bank of fog waiting at the mouth of the cove, tendrils of it already climbing the cliff faces.
Rainbow snuck up behind Rarity and slapped both hands down on her shoulders. “Because it gets spoooky?”
“Eep! Rainbow Dash!”
“Hey, just joking!” Rainbow laughed and slung her duffel over one shoulder and snagged the handle of one of Rarity’s suitcases. “Lighten up. I almost thought you were afraid of the fog.”
“Heavens, no. It’s actually quite beautiful. But think of what the fog will do to my—” Rarity shook her head. “Our hair. Frizzy does not even begin to describe the horrors that await!”
Applejack leaned up close to Twilight, carrying a double armload of bags, including the snacks. “She means she looks like a dog decided to style her hair.”
“Too true, Applejack. Too true. But... the rim of the cove is usually safe.” Rarity paused to point at one of the horns of the cove, jutting out over the water, sweeping her finger all along the inner rim. “Up there, the fog doesn’t reach, and it’s absolutely the best place to watch the sunset. It’s too late to get to tonight, but maybe tomorrow or... well, we’ll figure something out, I’m sure.”
“I’m sorry, Pinkie, but there’s no TV here, and the only electricity is in the solar batteries for the lights. Other than that...” Rarity pointed at the fireplace. “We have heat, a propane water heater, and we’ve got a campfire already planned for... sometime this week.”
“Bummer! So, no Smack Brawl?”
“Nope. We do have plenty of games, though! Who’s up for some poker?” Rainbow zipped the deck of cards between her hands and flipped up an ace of hearts.
“Not for me, thanks.” Fluttershy flicked a finger against the ace, sending it floating to Rainbow’s lap. “I’ve got no poker face.”
“Aw. Twilight?" Rainbow waved the fan of cards at her. "Poker?”
“Um. Maybe?”
“What about this new game?” Applejack pulled a yellow box out of her bag. “Apples to Apples!”
“I’ve heard of that game," Twilight said. "Shining Armor said he plays it with Cadance and their friends a lot. I’ve always been too busy studying...” The bitter memories of Shining offering to let her play soured her stomach, and she smiled ruefully at the colorful artwork on the box. She’d always turned him down… Not always. Just since she’d started at Star Swirl. She shifted against the couch, looking down at her hands folded in her lap, empty hands grasping at nothing. “I really haven’t done much with my life, have I?”
“Psh. Don’t talk that way, Twilight.” Rarity patted her knee gently. “You’re still young, and whatever your life was like before, you’re with us now, and we’re going to make up for lost time! Aren’t we, girls?”
Pinkie, laying on the couch, folded her arms around Twilight’s neck and hugged her close. “You betcha!”
“So, Apples to Apples?” Applejack shook the box. “It’s gonna be juicy!
The warmth around her neck, and the casual disregard for her personal space wasn’t odd anymore; it was just something Pinkie did. Their first Slumber Party, she’d barely gotten to even look at her journal. At least, not until she’d snuck off to find Sunset furiously scribbling in a notebook. The formulae had been in a notation she’d never seen before. Arcane mathematics.
“Hey. Get back here!” Pinkie bit her ear. Lightly, but it still stung.
“Ow! I am here.”
“Yeah, now. Stay here. Please?”
It was uncanny. “Are you… sure you can’t read minds?”
“Darling, it was obvious to all of us you weren’t here here.”
Rainbow snorted. “Yeah. You were staring at your hands. Even I picked up on that.”
Twilight snatched her hands from her lap and picked up a the box cover. It was just artwork. She held onto it anyway, studying the bright art and the happy family slapping cards on the table.
“So, how do you play?”
“Simple. It’s word association, but funny,” Applejack said while passing around cards to everyone around the table. “See, we take one of these cards,” she said, holding up a card with ‘Funny’ written on it, “and then we all play a card that we think is funny. But you can only play one of those cards in your hand. And someone, I’ll go first, picks what they think is funniest.”
“Is there a winner?” Twilight’s cards held little that was ‘funny’. “I mean, I don’t really have anything—”
“That one!” Pinkie poked the card that said ‘kumquat.’
“But that’s a fruit. It’s not—”
“Trust me, Twilight. I know funny.”
Twilight placed the card.
“Well, Twi, to answer your question: there ain’t exactly a winner. We just kinda play until we get tired of it.” Applejack spent a moment looking over the cards given for funny and giggled. “Kumquat is pretty funny.” She set it aside, and then passed out another card to everyone. “Although, I suppose we could keep score this time.” Her eyes flicked to Rainbow Dash. “As long as we don’t get too competitive.”
“I’m not gonna do anything. This is Apples to Apples, Applejack! There’s not much to be competitive about.”
“You said the same thing about washing cars.” Applejack prodded Rainbow’s shoulder. “You remember how that turned out?”
“Yeah, yeah. I apologized, didn’t I? I’ll save the competition for tomorrow. Tonight’s for silly fun!”
Nestled against Pinkie’s shoulder, looking over her cards and Pinkie’s at the same time, Twilight’s fears about belonging, and the queasy thoughts about the last month and a half to melt away.
But do I belong? With them or at their school?
Twilight sighed. None of the cards in her hand fit the descriptor card, ‘dangerous.’ Pinkie, nibbling on her ear before placing ‘kittens’ for the ‘dangerous’ card, dispelled the thought and its worry.
None of them fit. So what?
“I’ll see your kittens and raise you grass!”
“Good one. Beware the evil grass! It’ll tickle your toes!” Pinkie’s hand poked Twilight’s stomach, making her flinch and giggle.
The smell of coffee and the sound of a pair of feet whispering across bare flagstones woke Twilight the next morning. It was still dark. Fog brushed up against the windows, almost hiding the van from sight with a haze of dim gray. It was, she reflected, like waking up into a dream.
She let the sounds of her friends around her filter into her consciousness. Pinkie’s low buzzing breath, Rainbow’s light snore. Rarity and Fluttershy were almost silent sleepers, the former with a masque drawn down over her eyes, the latter curled up with a stuffed bunny in her sleeping bag.
Applejack’s sleeping bag, by the fireplace, was empty.
Twilight crawled out of her bag, rubbing the sleepies from her eyes, and padded through the maze of arms and hair. She found her friend in the kitchen, peering over the edge of a steaming mug at the windows.
“You’re up early,” she whispered.
“Hey.” Applejack shrugged. “Yeah, I’m used to being up this early. Farm, n’all. I’m surprised you’re up, though. Uh, no offense.”
“None taken. I don’t sleep well in strange places.” It was the ground. Cold and hard. Even with the pad she’d brought along, it felt like the hardness of the floor reached through it to press against her back. Ludicrous, of course. "I've been camping, but only in my backyard with my brother. Stargazing."
“Aw. Sorry t’hear that. But t’ain’t strange when you’ve got friends with ya. You fell asleep right quick after Pinkie started snorin’ in your hair.” Applejack waved her mug at the the pile of pink lying mostly on the couch. “I’m just surprised you tolerated her hangin’ offa you like that last night. That girl’d hug a grizzly until it whimpered.”
“Isn’t that just what Pinkie does? It felt nice, though. I mean, she’s nice. Um.” Heat crept up her neck, hidden by the darkness, and she looked away. She'd only ever seen Shining Armor and Cadance that close before.
Applejack didn’t seem to notice her slip. “She does, sometimes. I can’t stand it, though. Her bein’ all clingy like that. I need my space.” She took a sip of coffee, keeping her eyes on Twilight. “Still, I imagine it’s right nice if you ain’t been hugged in a while.”
Twilight looked away, blushing more hotly.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean ta imply—” Applejack coughed, then sipped her coffee, eyes flicking up briefly to, then away from Twilight’s face.
“It’s okay. I don’t get hugged often. Not by my friends.” Twilight rubbed at her arm, remembering her mother’s hug before leaving, and Shining giving her hair a tousle. He’d been on his way out the door, too, and Cadance waiting at the end of the driveway.
Applejack stepped up closer and pulled her close with an arm around her shoulders. “Ain’t true.” She felt surprisingly warm, the strength of her arm apparent in the density of the musculature pressing into Twilight’s shoulders. It felt good. “Hugs’aplenty ’round here.”
Twilight flushed, but didn’t move away. “Before, I meant. At Star Swirl.” Every day at CHS, she was hugged by someone. Pinkie Pie most of all, and even Rainbow snuck some in after her games.
The half-embrace lasted until Applejack took a sip of coffee and let her go. Minutes might have passed. A quick look around told her the hug hadn’t gone unnoticed, nor the conversation.
Rarity, doing her best to remain still, despite obviously being awake, smiled. Fluttershy curled up tighter around her stuffed bunny. Rainbow and Pinkie were still asleep, apparently, though she thought she might have seen a sparkle of magenta iris when she studied Rainbow’s face. Pinkie on the couch, an arm dangling down to touch Twilight’s sleeping bag, stirred, but kept up her steady, slow breathing.
When she looked back at Applejack, nursing another sip from her mug, all she saw was quiet curiosity in her friend’s eyes. It felt like she was waiting, and Twilight could see no judgement in her open, honest face.
“I said it was a lot to take in, and it is. But the more that I do...” Twilight shook her head. “I didn’t have a lot of friends at the Star Swirl Academy. Not like you. Just other people I knew. Study buddies.” She shrugged and traced a finger over the counter separating kitchen from living room. “It is nice to be hugged just because someone wants to hug me, and not because they’re family or are congratulating me. It feels nice to belong.”
“I won’t deny that. You want some coffee? Got a pot on the camp stove.” She pointed. “It ain’t too hot yet, but it is coffee.”
“I’d love some.” The kitchen table was scarred driftwood, smooth and rough by turns, cut into planks and planed flat. Twilight ran her fingers over a hollow smoothed by countless waves as she sat down. “What kind?”
“Instant. Black. Got some sugars, but nothin’ fancy like a latte-da, or a machoatto.” Applejack poured her a mug, grinning past Twilight, one eyebrow raised, and set the coffee pot back on the hissing burner. “Here you go. So... if ya don't mind me asking, what’ve you got in that journal of yours?”
“Just... thoughts.” Twilight looked down into the coffee mug and frowned at some of the crystals that hadn’t dissolved yet. She plucked a stirrer from the cup at the center of the table and prodded at them. “I don’t know what to think about a lot of things. Writing them down helps me think. I haven’t had a lot of time, lately. Everything’s getting all… jumbled up.”
“Apple trees, for me.” Applejack pulled out a chair, and sat next to Twilight.
Outside the bay window on the other side of the table, chalk-white fog drifted lazily in a faint, early morning breeze.
“I’m not sure I understand,” Twilight said.
“I think better when I’m working in the grove. The smell, the heat of the sun. Heck, even in the shade.” Applejack’s eyes closed, and she breathed in deeply, smiling, then let it out in a long, peace filled sigh. “I don’t know what I’d do without the farm.”
“I...” Twilight glanced at her mug, where the crystals were almost all dissolved. “I have my family’s library. It’s quiet, and usually dark. Nobody bothers me very much in there.” She frowned. “It’s like that at SSA, too. Quiet. Nobody bothers you.”
“Sounds lonely.”
She shrugged. “I didn’t think so. When I’ve got my books, I don’t notice.”
Applejack arched an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything.
“Is that wrong?”
“No.” Applejack took a long sip, frowned at the coffee, then took another. “You are who you are, Twilight. If you like quiet, peaceful alone time, that’s fine with me.” She smiled, set the mug down and twisted about in her chair. “Still, it helps to talk things out, too. Sometimes.”
The implicit invitation stuck in Twilight’s throat. She thought of the entries she was less proud of in the beginning of her journal and curled her fingers tighter around the mug.
Applejack smiled and laid her hand on Twilight’s lightly, drawing it free. “Offer’s there, if you wanna take me up on it.”
The offer being made explicit didn’t help. Twilight nodded, and sipped at the lukewarm coffee to cover her silence, but left her other hand under Applejack’s. The warm, rough hand eased the tightness in her throat the longer it rested, waiting for her to respond.
Twilight turned her hand over and let the warmth soak into her palm. She smiled, twining her fingers through Applejack’s, feeling the strength and roughness give way to soft skin as she touched the back of her friend’s hand.
Applejack squeezed lightly, sipped at her coffee, and watched Twilight’s fingers.
“I’m not sure I’m ready.” She squeezed gently, then slipped her hand away. “Yet.”
That seemed to be enough for Applejack. She smiled back. “Take your time.”
They sat at the table, staring silently out the window as the sun continued to creep up and the golden light began to filter down into the cove. The mist began to drift away, revealing the beach in golden light and shadow. The van sat in the sand, a hulking grey shadow glittering in the early morning.
“I don’t know if we’ve said this, but we’re glad you came. Seeing her again would have been nice, but... I know in my heart that she couldn’t stay.” Applejack said, breaking the silence as the sun broke over the edge of the cliff. “You can. We can see you every day, without restrictions or worrying that she might get stuck here or...” She shook her head. “I mean, we love her. What she did for us was—”
Applejack shrugged.
“She showed you what you meant to each other. Rarity said that, when she was fixing up my hair.”
“Yeah, she did do that.” Applejack nodded. “We’ll always be grateful. But...” She shook her head. “She couldn’t stay,” she repeated. “That’s something about friends. Being there for one another.” Her foot brushed against Twilight’s. “You were there for us, even if you didn’t know what you were gettin’ into. I guess we just kinda dragged you into that whole mess with the sirens.”
“I’m not complaining.” Twilight sighed, then shook her head. “I’ve been dying to know, but... what’s she like? Is she like me?”
“No.” Applejack snorted and waved a hand dismissively, making Twilight’s stomach flop. “You might look just like her, sound just like her... but I’m glad you’re not her. You’re more relatable, y’know?”
Twilight’s stomach settled again. She took a sip of too bitter coffee, and grimaced at the taste. “What do you mean?” She tore open a packet of sugar, poured, and set to stirring it in.
“You’re...” Applejack trailed off, staring into the fog. “I guess it’s a little hard to put a finger on why.” She twisted her lips in a wry smile. “Like now, actually. It’s easier to talk to you. You understand me when I talk about what’s goin’ on. Cars, trucks, and tractors aren’t a mystery to you, and you don’t look at me funny when I talk about... well, almost anything. Trying to talk to her about anything more modern than a train was like running through prairie dog city.”
“Huh?”
“Well, almost anything.” Applejack laughed.
Should I have understood that?
Silence fell over the table again, interrupted by the growing burbling of the pot on the stove.
“You belong, Twilight.” Applejack’s hand covered her hand again, jerking her out of her thoughts. “I can just feel it. We’re all meant to be together.”
“And her?”
“She... I dunno how to describe it. I mean, aside from talking to her. There was just something in the way she looked at us that I can’t put to words.” Applejack shook her head. “I don’t think I can.” Her eyes unfocused as she looked off into the disappearing fog. Finally, she shrugged and took another sip, glancing at the steaming pot.
“I might be able to.”
Twilight hadn’t heard Fluttershy’s quiet feet padding up behind them.
“Gosh darn it, Fluttershy!” Applejack rasped, sputtering on a mouthful of coffee that dribbled down her shirt. “Don’t sneak up on folk like that!”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to.” Fluttershy backed up, clutching her plush bunny even tighter to her chest.
“No, no. Don’t worry. Wasn’t hot or nothin’.” Applejack swiped at the coffee on her shirt, grimacing. “Come have a seat.” Applejack kicked out a chair and waved her mug at it. “I’ll get you some coffee, too.”
Fluttershy sat obediently, looking down at her stuffed bunny’s face.
“You were saying?”
“Oh. Um.” Fluttershy stared off into space until Applejack came back and waved a steaming mug under her nose. “Right. I was thinking that Twilight—pony Twilight—always seemed like she was looking over my shoulder when I talked to her, like she was searching for something. I suppose she was trying to find the pony us.”
Sitting back down, Applejack nodded. “Makes sense, her looking for another ‘us.’ I admit, it woulda been interesting if you two had met. You are like her, in some ways. Different in others. She was a might more open than you, but other than that… I mean… research this, research that, science doohickeys. Magic doohickeys. Same difference, right?”
“I wonder if that means she’s friends with the other us?” Fluttershy gestured with her mug to the sleeping girls. “I mean, I’m pretty sure she is, but I’m sure we’re different in ways that she wasn’t expecting.” She shrugged and ducked behind her mug.
“Makes me wonder, though. That was awful coincidental that you showed up right when ya did. Like… I dunno. Cosmic convergence or somethin’.”
“I was investigating. I thought some of the students at my school were trying to prank me, at first.” Twilight shook her head. “Those videos of me looking so clutzy. I tried to disprove them, but there was no way they could have been faked. Not with the raw footage I found. I spent weeks examining them, reading everything I could about signal analysis. I even worked the study of the video into one of my free-study projects.”
Applejack glanced at Fluttershy, eyebrow raised. Fluttershy shrugged.
“My friends...” Were they really my friends? Laughter and half-heard taunts plagued the memories of those weeks and months after she’d been put on academic suspension for conduct unbecoming of the student body, and subsequently taken off after her parents threatened suit. “Well, the other students at SSA teased me about it for a while.”
Silence fell over the table, and a yawning Rarity put a hand gently on her shoulder and took a mug offered by Applejack with a nod of thanks. “That must have been awful, dear.”
Twilight shook her head. “I was really isolated at that school. I had my books, and my studies. Coming by the school when I did…” I wanted to clear my name. “I wanted to see if she was still there. I wasn’t even going to stop. Just drive by and look. But when I saw all of you standing around, I did.”
“And aren’t we glad you did!” Rarity squeezed her hand. “Though, I will admit that was a little confusing, seeing you drive up in a car instead of appearing through the statue. I mean, after Twilight wrote back saying she was coming... then the book caught fire, we didn’t know what to think.”
“Caught fire?”
Rarity nodded. “Just woosh! Up in flames.” She paused, a finger tapping her chin. “I wonder what caused it to do that.”
I would love to know that, too, Twilight thought. An artifact from another world, from a magical world, would have been a research opportunity beyond anything she’d been able to manage in secret.
“Mysteries and more mysteries. She seemed to drag them around with her.” Rarity shrugged, waving a hand dismissively. “What matters is that you are here, now. And we’re happy you are.”
“I’m happy to be here, too.”
I’m still not sure how the other me fits into this world. If she does at all. No one has seen or heard from her since Sunset Shimmer’s book caught fire. If only I’d had a chance to look at it before it was destroyed, I could have tested some of my hypotheses regarding the strange readings I’ve been getting.
Maybe some of those mathematics would start making sense, too.
She resisted the urge to flip back to where she’d meticulously copied every number, notational symbol and their explanations. It almost made sense, and that almost…
Twilight closed her journal. That line of thought led nowhere. She’d been down it with Sunset so many times that it’d almost become their mode of interaction. Not that Sunset seemed to mind, but her smile had become noticeably more strained in the last week whenever she was around.
And if I’m noticing it…
She looked up from her journal to watch Applejack and Rainbow Dash setting up the badminton net.
Rarity, sitting beside her, smiled. “You could go play with them, you know.”
“I’m not really the athletic type.”
“I’m not either, dear, but that’s not going to stop me from playing a game or two.” Rarity swung an imaginary racket in a slow underhand swing. The wind, as if sensing her vulnerability, shifted to catch the rim of her sun hat and billow the long white shawl away from her shoulders.
Twilight reached up to catch the hat before it blew off, and held it close while Rarity wrestled with the shawl. Without it to cover her shoulders, the intermittent sun shone from smooth, feminine shoulders, skin as pale as white sand, and a delicately curved neck leading down to the swell of her breasts and the edge of a shallow cut chemise.
“Thank you, darling.” Rarity accepted the hat back as the strong breeze briefly drowned out the rushing hiss and roar of the waves on the shore. “Such an awkward time of year. Too sunny to go without protection, but not warm enough to go without something to keep you that way. You may want to put on some sunscreen if you don’t want your cheeks to get chapped. You’re already getting a little rosy.”
Twilight touched her cheeks, feeling the heat in them, and forced her eyes back to the ocean and away from her friend’s beauty. Friends shouldn’t stare at each other like that.
“I don’t think it’s the wind.”
Rarity reached out to lay her fingers against Twilight’s arm. “Well, you are just a touch warm. Your darker skin must help somewhat. You have such a lovely shade of lavender, too, dear. It sets off your eyes so well. Me? I don’t think the sun likes me very much. And the wind just seems to eat right through whatever warmth I do capture.”
A look at Rarity, at her smile, with a hint of knowing in the corners of it, spoke the lie. Rarity had seen her looking. And it didn’t bother her. She was even offering Twilight a way out.
Why?
“Oh, I do so hope it warms up later. I would hate to have to change out of this darling chemise just for the weather’s sake.” Rarity pulled the shawl more snugly about her, crossing one arm across her belly, drawing both fringed ends of the wrap taut against further intrusions from the wind, and giving her a greater measure of modesty.
“I think it will.” Twilight shook her head slightly, some of the tension leaving her. She could try to understand why Rarity did anything for a week and never come up with an answer. “The ocean will help. The western oceanic current brings up plenty of water from the tropics. I would expect the air to warm up once the sun comes out from behind the clouds. The water would be perfect for swimming, though.”
“Oh, it is plenty comfortable in the water. The problem comes when we get out.” Rarity nodded to the badminton net, fluttering in a strong breeze coming down from the bluffs. “It used to be that we’d fly kites all day on days like this. Poor Sweetie Belle almost got carried off to sea one year when she held on too stubbornly.” She chuckled.
“Should I have left my swimming suit behind? If it’s too cold when I get out, then the point of going swimming, to relax, gets negated by the possibility of the chill lowering my immune response and—”
“Twilight, dear, leave those worries aside. Relax. So what if we don’t get to go swimming? We didn’t come here with a plan in mind.”
But the plan was to relax. Wasn’t it? Twilight sucked on her lower lip. “Am I even worrying about the right things?”
“Worrying about worrying, Twilight? Shame, shame. Just watch Applejack and Rainbow Dash. They’re amusing enough, in their own way, and they haven’t a care in the world right now.”
Rainbow was standing by her pole, flipping the hammer used to spike in the stabilizing rods for the net, grinning at Applejack. Until Applejack tested the tautness of her line, sending Rainbow’s pole leaning to the right, bringing Applejack’s with it once the tension was gone.
Twilight clamped a hand down over her journal. She’d barely gotten a full paragraph of thoughts out. More scurried around in her mind, waiting to come out, to be made solid so she could examine them and pick them apart.
She stuffed the book back in her bag and lay back to watch Applejack and Rainbow finish kicking sand at each other and finish setting up the net, albeit somewhat shorter than before, with the tension lines placed more optimally, though the net did have a pronounced lean.
Beyond them, Pinkie Pie was racing the waves, her laughter carrying back as she cartwheeled away from one, got caught by a surprise breaker, and got swept from her feet to land, still laughing, at Fluttershy’s feet.
Fluttershy helped her up, and bent to add a shell to the small basket at her feet. Pinkie, being Pinkie, brushed off her sandy bathing suit bottoms and dashed down the beach, her voice rising to urge Fluttershy to come look at something. She didn’t seem at all bothered by the chill wind or that she was soaked from the waist down.
“It must be all the sugar...”
“Hmm?”
“Just wondering.” She pointed at Pinkie. “How does she stay warm?”
“Well, run around as much as she does, and you won’t catch a chill.” Rarity shrugged and waved at them. “Tell me, what did you do for fun at Star Swirl?”
“Read, study, learn new things. There was always something new to learn there. So much that it was hard to run out of things to do.” Most of the memories of the other gifted students she had studied with had never been vivid, but a few stood out. “I don’t think I was normal. Other girls there kept asking me to come with them to parties and game nights. I wonder... should I have?”
“Would you still be you if you had?” Rarity pulled down her sunglasses and peered more closely at Twilight. “Don’t worry so much about the past, Twilight. That was one thing that... other you taught all of us. It didn’t matter what had come between us in the past. All that mattered was what we did with what we had.”
“That’s... very insightful.”
“It still took us six months or more for the lesson to really sink in, mind you. By the time those... sirens started stirring up the school, we had all but fallen apart again.” Rarity snorted. “That was the state you found us in, bickering over a pile of ash. It was Sunset that kept us together those first few days, when the school was falling apart and rallying against us. Before you arrived.” Rarity pushed her sunglasses back up and lay back down, closing her eyes.
“What did I do? I don’t feel like I did much of anything.”
“You’d have to ask Sunset, but I suspect that she realized that she needed to step up and remind us all what Twilight meant to us all. You know, after we realized that you weren’t her.”
Twilight leaned her head back and shaded her eyes against the sun rising from late morning to noon. “Then what did I really do?” If all she’d done was show up… “Do I really—”
“Stop that. Right now.” Rarity sighed and took off her sunglasses. “I worded that poorly. Of course you’re not her, and that doesn’t matter. You do belong. You are one of our friends, and if there’s anything I’ve learned about the real meaning of friendship since pony you went home, it’s not whether or not we are useful that makes us important to each other.” She tapped the folded glasses against her chest. “Look at me. My best friends wouldn’t know high fashion if it bit them. Does that make me any less a friend to them?”
Twilight’s eyes roved over the beach, looking for an answer. Pinkie plopped down next to Fluttershy, examining shells, sorting them into piles on the dry sand a good distance from the reach of the waves. The whistle and thump of rackets started up as Applejack and Rainbow Dash began a game of badminton.
Finally, she shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“No, it doesn’t.” Rarity let the sound of the surf, wind and their friends fill the air. “Friends don’t have to be useful to each other to be friends. It helps strengthen the bonds if we do things together, but none of us really have a role to play. We just are.” Rarity tucked her sunglasses into the cleavage of her chemise and lay back down, closing her eyes. “Because we like each other. Most of the time.”
Twilight sat quietly, looking at her hands clasped in her lap, feeling Applejack’s warm reassurance as she curled her fingers against the fabric of her shorts.
Applejack dive after a birdie, miss, and laugh as she got up, sending the birdie flitting with a backhand swing back to Rainbow in the next instant. Further down the beach, Pinkie Pie jumped up with a screech that carried above the waves and wind, and picked up a large crab by the offending pincer.
Fluttershy waved her hands urgently, her words lost to Twilight in the ceaseless rush and crash of the waves. She watched while Pinkie wrestled with the crab, trying to keep its other pincer from her arm, and finally set it down in the water.
Ribbons of light danced and faded between all of them, grew stronger, then melted away.
“I can see it, sometimes,” she murmured. Focusing on the spark in her heart, the streamers grew stronger. It was like their magic, a rainbow of light that had connected them together. Even the longer streamer leading away to the east, Sunset Shimmer, was there. The vision of rainbows faded away as a puffy cloud drifted lazily, briefly across the sun. “Magic.”
“Did you say something?”
Down near the ocean, Fluttershy looked up and cocked her head. She glanced back at Twilight, and waved.
“Just thinking.” Twilight waved back and stood up. That was the problem. Sitting still wasn’t the answer. She could talk and talk and talk, and think even more, and never find the answers she wanted. Friendship experimentation… She smiled at the absurdity. “I’m going for a walk.”
“Enjoy yourself, darling. I think I’ll see if I can convince Rainbow Dash to let me play a game. In a little bit.”
Wet sand squelched under Twilight’s sandals as the wave retreated, leaving behind the cool tingle of saltwater on her skin. Ahead, the cliffside rose up off the beach, a wall of white and dingy brown. Trees clung desperately to the craggy face, their leaves swaying in the wind that continued to sweep down fitfully from the bluffs.
“This really is a beautiful place. Isolated, calm.” Fluttershy smiled into the wind and spread her arms out wide. “It’s perfect.”
“It is, isn’t it?” Without cars, city noise or even the subtler hum of electricity, something in her that had been unwinding since she arrived uncoiled that much more. A walk was the right thing to do. Physical motion, moving, getting away from thinking. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt so relaxed. It feels weird.”
“Being relaxed?”
“Yeah. Everything that I should be worrying about feels like it doesn’t belong here.” She waved her hand at the cove, and glanced over her shoulder at the four girls playing badminton closer to the beach house. “Except none of the things that I used to worry about apply anymore. Not really. CHS is far more lax than SSA ever was.”
“With homework, you mean?” Fluttershy paused a moment to bend and pick up a seashell half-buried in the sand. She brushed off the sand with slow, deliberate care. “But there’s so much more going on at CHS. The Fall Formal, the battle of the bands... the Spring Fling is coming back around again, too.”
“Those are social things. SSA had those, I guess, but...” Twilight shook her head and fell quiet. Days spent isolated in the library while, outside the thick double doors, the sound of revelry and her fellow students having fun filtered through her mind. Her only companions had been books and Spike, probably living it up with her parents, who spoiled his diet far too much. Her only friends had been Shining Armor and Cadance. “They were never something that I worried about.”
“You don’t need to worry about them, you know.” Fluttershy peeked at Twilight from under her hair, then reached out to settle her hand on Twilight’s shoulder. “Just enjoy them.”
“But Pinkie Pie and Rarity—”
“Volunteer their time. We all did when other you was here. We worried, yes, when it seemed like she wouldn’t get home, but we also had fun.”
“And the Battle of the Bands? There was a lot of—”
“Twilight...” Fluttershy’s hand tightened on her shoulder. “Stop.”
Her back tensed under the touch. There’s the house, too. There’s so much to organize, and after Rarity’s tour this morning, I think we’re just scratching the surface with what needs to be—
“Let it go. Just relax.” Fluttershy pulled Twilight around, setting both hands on her shoulders. “The band isn’t here. The school isn’t here. Nobody is here but us.”
Sunset wasn’t there. She wanted to talk to Sunset about what she’d seen. The ribbons of light. Equestria. The Princesses. A whole other world. That would have been fun. And relaxing. She was certain of it.
Eventually.
“How? Every time I stop thinking about one thing, something else comes up?” At least with Sunset, she could share what she was thinking and have it be understood.
Fluttershy smiled. “That’s why we’re here. Why don’t you tell me about these shells?”
It’s strange, relying on intuition and feelings to guide my research. But if it hadn’t been for those intuitions, I wouldn’t have discovered, well, magic. Add to that the doppelganger in those videos, and it was more than enough to cast suspicion on that school, CHS. So why do I keep relying on supposition and intuition to make discoveries? I can’t even repeat half of the experiments.
Twilight tapped her finger on the old entry, near the middle of her journal. Formulae and diagrams covered the page everywhere else. On future pages, they grew sparser the closer to the present day the entries got. None of her calculations were even close to what Sunset Shimmer had shown her of Equestrian magical force equations.
She wrote a brief note in the margin, shook her head, and flipped towards the present. Months of research, going back even before the Event, as she’d labeled it. Her handwriting changed from the imperfect loops and lines of her pre-teens to the neater, orderly block lettering she’d adopted since.
Every page showed her something different and woke an old memory.
Days spent in her ‘lab’ in her parent’s basement, weeks drawing and perfecting designs for what would become her magical potentiometer. Early permutations of equations, later refined and crossed out. It wasn’t until she got to her journal entry the day after she had met her friends that she began to understand what it was that drove the feelings in her heart.
Before then, she hadn’t drawn anything but scientific equipment, graphs, and models. After that, the charts appeared as often as little doodles of her friends. A head or a bust, sometimes their marks. Little busts of Sunset sat next to sections of equation and under charts, explanations and lore from Equestria. Pinkie Pie surrounded by symbolic hearts, Rarity in one of the gowns she’d shown off at the slumber party. Rainbow Dash, balancing a ball on her head, tongue between her teeth. And Fluttershy, surrounded by her animals.
They were little more than pencil sketches, things she hadn’t spent more than twenty minutes on, but they weren’t the cutesie little doodles she’d seen in other girls notebooks of boys and hearts and kisses. They were as close as she could make them to what her friends actually looked like.
She flipped through her journal again, going back to the beginning. The first page. Cadance had drawn a picture of Twilight there, cute and out of proportion. Chibi, Cadance had called it. Underneath, it read: For my favorite genius. I got this one extra big so you can fit all your ideas in one place.
Seven years ago. Seven years, more than a hundred pages, and that was the first, and last drawing of another person. Until a month and a half ago. From there on, the doodles headed her pages, peppered the margins, and crept in wherever her pencil was resting at the time.
“I was lonely,” she whispered.
“I know that feeling,” Fluttershy said from the towel next to her. “I was lonely at Cloudsdale Elementary until Rainbow Dash stood up for me.”
“I had my brother, though. And my parents. And my babysitter, too. I shouldn’t have been lonely. I had other people who cared for me in my life.”
“So did I. That didn’t stop me from feeling lonely at school, where none of those other people were. I’m not sure that’s the answer you’re looking for.” Fluttershy frowned at the shell in her hand. “I’m not even sure what you are looking for.”
“I want to know why I’m worrying so much over… things. I never used to worry like this. And if I know why, then I can stop worrying. Because I can fix it.”
“Hmm.” Fluttershy peered up at her, blue eyes squinting against the sun. “And you think being lonely has something to do with that?”
“No. At least, I don’t think so. Maybe it does. I’m not sure.”
“I think you’re worrying because things are changing.”
“What’s that got to do with being lonely?”
“I think, and this is me, but I think maybe it’s because now you worry about what others think of you.” Fluttershy beamed a smile up at her and set the shell down. “I’m comfortable with my friends.”
Twilight waited, watching as Fluttershy’s cheeks pinked faintly. Her friend didn’t say anything else, only dug through the sandy shells in the cup made from her skirt and legs.
Oh. Twilight cleared her throat and looked down the beach to where their friends were fiddling with the badminton net again. Rainbow Dash was laying on the ground, arms thrown wide, and her laughter came over the wind and waves.
“Is that what it is? Do you think I’m worried about what they think of me?”
“Everyone is.”
“Except sociopaths and psychopaths,” Twilight said drily.
Fluttershy snorted a laugh and covered her mouth. “Oh, goodness.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to get snarky.”
“It’s fine. You have it worse than most. I imagine you feel like you have to live up to a standard set by some… pony else.” Fluttershy waved it away. “You don’t. So… why do you think your diary—”
“Journal.”
“—journal has the answer you’re looking for?”
Twilight hadn’t shown it to anyone. Not even Cadance or Shining. Not even to Sunset. She pulled it closer. “Because it’s my life. I’ve kept this journal since I was eight.” The corners were starting to fray, but the sturdy leather cover was still withstanding time.
It was, Cadance had said, an exact replica of one used by Star Swirl himself. She’d had a chance to compare it to one of the surviving Astra Carta journals he’d kept throughout his life, and the resemblance was nearly perfect.
She stroked her fingers down the cover, tracing the deeply embossed crest of her name symbolized in an ancient pictographic language from a culture that had idolized horses; a culture that was still alive in some parts of the world. Her cutie mark, as Sunset had called it. She might as well get used to thinking of it like that. It wasn’t just her name in another world. It was the symbol of a whole other person.
“This journal is…” It was her life. And more. “I’ve put everything in here that I didn’t want anyone else to know.”
“I see. And the answer to why you’re worrying is in there?”
“It has to be.”
“Mmm. Let me know if you find anything.”
Twilight flipped backwards again, to the first page detailing her research into the Event. There, she’d taped a picture of the six girls. For weeks after she’d first seen it, posted to Pinkie’s public MyStable page, it’d hung in her mind whenever she closed her eyes. From that moment…
Twilight stared at the computer screen, the WhoTube video paused with her face center frame. All around her were five other girls. The blue skinned girl with the blue wings was flying even, with her wingspan spread wide at that perfect moment before a downsweep.
“Am I on drugs? Were those mushrooms in tonight’s pasta... special?” She rewound the video to the beginning and started it over, watching the girls snuggle close again for the photo.
Six other videos, all from different angles, were paused on different tabs of her browser, each one showing the same scene. “It looks so... real.” Even down to the way the wings worked and the way the plumage was arranged. Even down to the minute detail of the ears betraying the moods of the six girls.
They were all happy.
And she was in the center. Happy. Smiling.
Twilight frowned and pressed a hand to the unfamiliar pang in her chest.
The memory passed. The pang was still there, hurting just as much. That was a moment she wouldn’t ever live. A moment where she’d been happier than she ever thought she might be able to be.
Fluttershy was staring at her, a hand held out partway. Her eyes flicked to Twilight’s. “Are you okay?”
“I’m...” Twilight looked up from her notebook to where, further down the beach, her other friends were engaged in a furious game of badminton. Applejack and Rarity were facing off against Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash. She couldn’t make out the banter over the sound of the waves and wind, but she did hear the laughter that followed each point scored.
“Tell me.” Fluttershy laid her hand on Twilight’s, pulling it free of the journal. “We’re here to help.”
“I was jealous.” It was out. “You were all so happy, and I was, too. But that wasn’t me in those videos. I wanted to know what that felt like. What could make me smile like that? What if, what if I can’t—” Her hand shook as she touched her cheek, brushing away the stream of tears. Crying. Because she was jealous. Petty. She laughed, the taste of it bitter in her mouth. It turned into a sob.
“Shh.” Fluttershy sat up straighter, pulling her down into a tight hug. “Shh.”
Her mind blanked as her worries bled away.
“...sleeping.”
“Alright. She had us worried.” Applejack’s voice sounded close by.
Twilight jerked upright, hands flying to her journal. It was still in her lap, closed. Immediately, she relaxed, one hand on the cover.
“Whoa. Hey, Twi. You alright?” Applejack was crouched beside her, one hand on the folding chair, the other braced on her knee.
“Yeah.” She recalled sobbing herself into incoherence and exhaustion. Fluttershy had laid her back down on the chair and sat with her until she fell asleep. She vaguely remembered Fluttershy telling her jokes and stories, trying to get her to laugh, but right then she couldn’t remember any of it except for the occasional chuckle. “I…”
She groped after the feeling that had gripped her before. That part of her felt numb, and when she tried to remember the photograph, and the video, it felt flat. The images were there, and she knew what she’d felt.
“You were holding onto a lot of hurt,” Fluttershy said softly.
“Ya okay now?”
“I think so.” An impulse grabbed her, and she opened the book, flipping to the photo. It was the only thing, aside from the date, on the page. “It was this.”
Applejack scratched her hairline and drew her hat back down. “I remember that. Sad day, t’be honest.”
“Sad?” But the girls in the picture were so obviously happy.
“Well, sure. We knew she wouldn’t be able to come back after that. Not for a long time, at least. I think Pinkie got hit the hardest. Y’know. After.”
“Oh. I never even thought what it would be like for you all.”
“Heh. I never really thought about what it’d be like for you, lookin’ in from the outside. Suppose…” Applejack laid a finger on the picture, above Other Twilight’s head, covering the wings. “Suppose it must hurt, seeing yourself have that much fun, and look that happy. And not gettin’ to be a part of it.”
“It did. But I think I’m okay for now. No more tears.” Twilight tried to smile, but it felt weak, like her muscles just didn’t want to move.
“Hmph.” Applejack ruffled Twilight’s hair. “Don’t say that. You need to cry, you cry, got it?”
“It’s okay, you know. You’re safe here, and...” Fluttershy brushed her fingers against Twilight’s elbow, then settled on the back of her clenched fist. The warm fingers, dusted with bits of iridescent shell, squeezed gently. “I can imagine what it felt like, standing on the outside and looking in. I used to do that.”
“I didn’t know that. I”m sorry.”
Fluttershy pulled Twilight’s hand down and cupped it in both of hers. “I’m doing much better now.” She teased open the clenched fingers. “I realized that I was happier being included. Even if it was just a small group of girls that I was friends with, being with them has helped me.”
“But what about her? Isn’t—” Twilight cut herself off.
“Who says we can’t have more than one of you as a friend?”
“Heh. Fluttershy’s right. Look, I’m gonna go tell the other girls you’re alright.” Applejack grinned down at her as she stood. “Don’t make me a liar. Let ‘Shy help. She’s good with feelings.”
Fluttershy reached down and scooped up the seven shells she’d drilled holes into. “I’ll do what I can to help.” She held out the shells, and placed them one at a time on Twilight’s palm.
The shells were all the colors of the magic they shared. Even the red of Sunset Shimmer. Do they see the colors, too? “What’s this for?”
“Friendship bracelets. It was Pinkie’s idea. Something to remember this vacation by. It’s our first with you, after all.”
Twilight let her eyes rove over the beach, to the house and the makeshift badminton court set up with string in the sand. Rarity and Pinkie Pie were sitting by the sidelines while Applejack and Rainbow shot the birdie back and forth in a furious exchange. “I-I just met you all, and I...” She swallowed, looking down at the creamy yellow hands cradling her violet. I love all of you. She swallowed again, this time against a lump growing bigger in her throat. Why?
“It won’t be the last, I’m sure.”
“But I hardly know any of you at all.” Twilight looked away, but didn’t draw her hand back.
“No, I understand. We would like to get to know you, if you’ll let us. And maybe you’ll see us the same way we see you. As a friend.” Fluttershy glanced at the notebook, closed on Twilight’s lap. “We want to hear what you have to say.”
“Wait, wait... a dragon?” Twilight bent to pick up another shell, a tiny thing the shade of Rarity’s hair, and handed it to Fluttershy. “I think you said it before, but... what? Spike is a dragon?”
“Well, so he said.” Fluttershy smiled and bent forward to pick up a faint pink shell lying on the sand. “But I stopped questioning things after he started talking.”
“I still can’t believe that.” None of the videos had shown her dog, Spike, ever talking. “I suppose I should stop wondering if it was really real, too... I mean, I did have wings, and a... was it a tail?” She pulled a strand of her waist length hair around flipped it back and forth. “I still don’t know why Rarity wants me to wear my hair loose like this. It’s so much neater in a bun. And I don’t get any of it in my face.”
“I think Rarity likes it because, well, it does look really nice on you. I do like the bun, too. You looked more...” Fluttershy ducked behind her curtain of hair. “More like you, I guess. Pony Twilight wore her hair down, too.”
“Should I wear it down?” Twilight gathered her hair up and bundled it up at the nape of her neck, then let it fall.
“You should wear it how you like.” Fluttershy reached up behind her neck and grimaced, then pulled out a pair of elastic bands. Her hair drooped and fell flatter, losing some of the curl at the tip. “If you want, we can make you look like old you again.”
“Maybe.” Twilight touched the proffered hair bands. “What about yours? I love your hair the way it was.”
“I have more back at the house.” Fluttershy shook her head, letting her hair out more. “What’ll it be? Pony Twilight or you?”
“Can we call her something other than ‘Pony Twilight?’ It just sounds weird. Like you’re referring to me, but as a pony. And was she really a pony? I mean really?” Twilight shook her head, trying to ignore the fluttering queasiness in her stomach. “It just sounds so strange. I mean, I’ve ridden ponies as a little girl and while they were smart, they weren’t... people.”
Fluttershy eyed her, face passive. Wind carried the sound of laughter and the whistle and whack of rackets to them as they walked on.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—” Twilight hesitated, then put a hand on Fluttershy’s shoulder. “I’m not very good at talking to friends.”
“I know what you meant.” The smile returned to Fluttershy’s face. She deftly wrapped her hair into a ponytail and settled back in next to Twilight. “I’m not upset. It’s like my bunny, Angel. He’s smart, but I can’t talk to him like I can other people.”
“Right. That’s what I meant.” Fluttershy’s shoulder was loose under her hand, and warm. The light pink locks of hair brushed lightly back and forth against her wrist. “I mean, is... other Twilight a four legged equine? With wings? Or a bipedal humanoid with wings?”
“You know, I never really questioned that. When a dog talks to you and tells you that everything that one of Pinkie’s hunches suggested is true...” Fluttershy reached up to pull Twilight’s hand off her shoulder, then twined their fingers together.
Twilight felt her neck heat, but didn’t let go. Walking hand in hand with her friend felt natural, and the close contact was easing the tension in her shoulders. Thoughts of what others might say flicked through her mind, and she dismissed all of them. Romance novels flicked through her mind, and she coughed. She pushed them away, too. Even the daring one she’d read where the leads were two women. That one, she kept taped to the inside of her box spring.
Fluttershy smiled at her, then continued: “Little details like species tend to fall by the wayside.”
“And now? Is it important now that I’m here? Because it kind of is, to me. I think.” Twilight stopped and scrubbed her face with her free hand. “Isn’t it? I mean, it’s me, but she’s also not me, and she’s your friend, too, and what am I?” What’s important? Is it important? Should I know? “I just don’t know.”
“You’re our friend.” Fluttershy’s grip tightened. “As for her... it bothers you, doesn’t it? Not knowing who she is or what she is. Or even what she means to us?” Fluttershy drew Twilight away from the surf, leading her with a gentle tug. She sat, facing the ocean, and tugged once more. “It’s okay to be bothered by it, you know.”
“Do you still worry about her?” Twilight followed her down, letting go of Fluttershy’s hand to smooth her shorts up to her thighs.
“Sometimes. I wish we knew what happened that prevented her from being able to come here, but I feel like I would know if something really bad happened to her.” Fluttershy found Twilights hand again, resting her fingers lightly to the back of her fingers. “I just feel like we have a connection. All of us.”
“I’m sorry. I’ve never held hands with anyone before.”
“I do it all the time. It helps me feel the person I’m with. Does it bother you?”
Does it bother me? She looked at their hands, her heart thumping. “It’s just that, in the movies—” She swallowed, hard.
“We’re not dating, Twilight. We’re friends. Close friends, I’d like to believe.” Fluttershy met her gaze and squeezed her hand. “Friends can hold hands, you know. It doesn’t need to mean that we’re in love with each other. It means...” she shrugged. “It means whatever you want it to mean. Just between us.”
Flutterhy’s fingers were cool and light on the back of her hand, not dry, but not damp either. Nor, she realized, was it an intimate touch. Fluttershy was her friend. That’s what mattered.
She looked back up the beach to where her other friends were all sitting down after a game. Rainbow Dash and Rarity were sitting together, and Rarity would occasionally point out over the water. Applejack was sitting with Pinkie, looking over something on a towel between them.
When she turned her attention back to Fluttershy, the other girl was watching her closely. “What?”
“Sometimes, it is hard to remember that you’re not her, even though she hasn’t been around for almost six months. But… you are you, and the more time I spend around you, the easier it gets to see the differences.”
“I thought she was an exact copy, though.” Twilight pushed her feet down against the wet sand, then lifted away to look at the identical impressions her sandals left in the wet sand. “She’s me.”
“No, she’s not you.” Fluttershy leaned forward and pointed at the imprints. “They aren’t the same.” She traced a finger around the edges of the inside of the soles. “Sure, they’re mirror images, but are you your reflection?”
“Only in bad horror movies.” Twilight smiled, trying to put a bit of mirth she didn’t feel behind it.
“Rainbow Dash made me watch that one once.” Fluttershy giggled. “But even in that movie they only look the same.” She dug under the sand and pulled out a twisted, tiny little shell. “Under the surface, they’re different.”
Twilight dug under the other imprint, but found only more sand. “It just takes a little more effort to tell them apart.” She flicked the sand off her fingers and leaned back. “I think I understand a little more. But she acts like me.”
“Really? I didn’t think you were prone to carrying books in your mouth.” Fluttershy’s eyebrow rose.
“No, but—”
“Twilight, you aren’t her.”
“I know that.” The photograph in her notebook, six girls smiling and hugging for the camera.
“Maybe... you saw how close we were in the short time that we knew her.” Fluttershy shook her head and looked up at the sky. Her hand closed over Twilight’s again, fingers stroking her palm gently. “You said you were jealous of her and the closeness we shared. I think you’re trying to find ways to show us that you are her.” She squeezed. “I feel close to you, Twilight.”
“But why? You’ve known me barely a month.”
“Do I need a reason? Sure, it started because I thought you were Twilight.” She tightened her grip. “But the more I, and we, came to know you, the more important you became to us. You... fit.” She shrugged. “It’s like—” She shook her head. “It’s like… because we knew her, we know you better than we ever had a chance to know her.”
Fluttershy frowned, her hold on Twilight’s hand tightening. “I don’t know how to explain it. But...” She nodded to their friends. “You get along with us easily, when you’re not worrying about why you fit in.” She grinned, squeezing Twilight’s hand again. “It’s natural for you, when you let it be.”
“I don’t know why it is. Did she—”
“We don’t want you to try to be her, Twilight.” Fluttershy’s grip on her hand tightened briefly. “We want to get to know who you are and, unlike her, we have time to get to know you properly. Don’t try to rush it.”
All around her, her friends were enjoying the idle time after the sun had gone down while a fire crackled cheerfully in the fireplace. A long day of enjoying the sun, playing games, and walking the beachfront had been wonderful.
Of course, it wouldn’t have been complete without Applejack and Rainbow Dash daring each other to try the water and stand the chill wind. At least until Rarity called them out on their tomfoolery and called an end to the day’s fun.
Upstairs, she could hear Applejack running the shower in fits and spurts to conserve the propane that gave them hot water. In the common area, Rainbow Dash, hair still dripping from her shower, and Fluttershy were playing a game of Go Fish while Rarity and Pinkie Pie were talking about the Spring Fling.
“‘Jungle Fever?’ Pinkie Pie, have you ever even been to a jungle?”
“Depends. Does Applejack’s back forty count?”
“That’s a forest.” Rarity bopped Pinkie lightly on the shoulder with her pen. “A jungle is all oocky and nasty. Vines everywhere, and not a hotel in a hundred miles. Your hair frizzes, your skin chafes even in a hundred percent humidity. How is that even possible? How?”
“Ookie-dokie. No Jungle Fever.” Pinkie scratched off a line.
“I suppose we could have a Forest Faire. You know... medieval dress, formal gowns and noble finery. Knights and maidens, princes and princesses.”
“Oooh! What about pony princesses?” Pinkie’s eyes flicked to Twilight, watching them from the kitchen table. “Or, well, another one.”
“Well, maybe. I don’t think she’s going to be able to make it, though.” Rarity shot a glance over her shoulder. “Would you like to join us, Twilight? We’re trying to decide on a theme for the Spring Fling.”
“It sounds like you have a good choice already. I’m not really a history buff, you know. I’m a scientist, at heart.”
“You know, I don’t think CHS has ever had a science themed dance before, but we could do a science theme.” Rarity turned over another page in her notebook. “Why don’t you come over here and we can talk science.”
The notebook under her hand, the one she had filled with speculation and unscientific thoughts on magic, itched at her mind. Heat blossomed in her cheeks. Imaginary, nightmare scenarios where her mentors and peers found out about her secret studies wormed their way forward, taunting her with imaginary laughter, kicking her out of school, and destroying her work.
“I, um…”
Rarity’s eyes, meeting hers, stayed steady as Twilight’s cheeks burned. Why did I want to study it in the first place? The journal, a safe place where she could be frank and honest and not worry about what others thought, might have the answer somewhere amid the scribbles, formulae and diagrams. She opened it again and stared at the first page.
“Oh, come over here, Twilight. We’ve only got a few days before we have to get back to the same-old-same-old back at school.”
“It’s the same for you, maybe... but I’m still new. I’m just worried that—”
“Vacation, darling. Worry later, come tell us about laboratories, lab coats, and mad scientists.”
“You do know that Halloween is over, right?” Twilight bit her lip as soon as the sarcastic comment left her mouth, and looked at her notebook again, then pushed it away. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Rarity jerked a thumb at Rainbow Dash. “She’ll give you a run for your money where snark is concerned.”
Rainbow looked up, smirked, and nodded. “You’re not so shabby yourself, Rares.”
“I do try to keep my tongue civil, Rainbow Dash. Not that there aren’t times a good bit of wit is appropriate.” Rarity turned her attention back to Twilight. “So, tell us, what gets you in a tizzy when you’re doing experiments?”
Magic. Twilight stuffed the thought far into the back of her mind. “Actually... Star Swirl was a great scientist, you know. I like your idea of something medieval, Rarity, and Star Swirl is widely credited with the beginning of the Enlightenment Era. We could...” Twilight shrugged. Not many other people shared her fascination with the ancient astronomer. “It’s a silly idea.”
“Not at all! Come, come! Tell us all about Star Swirl.”
She hesitated, fingers on the cover of her replica Star Swirl journal. He would… do what?
Teach, probably. She snorted a laugh, and left the table to sit next to Rarity. “What woud you like to know?”
“Oh, everything. You never know what might inspire the next big thing.”
“Well, um… Star Swirl was an aristocrat from birth,” Twilight said, settling in and starting from memory. She’d read his biography at least six times.
Rarity took notes as Twilight told the story of Star Swirl’s rise to prominence, the star maps he was famous for, his observations on celestial motion, and the mathematics he’d introduced to describe the motions of the heavens.
Twilight sat on a round wooden stool, fidgeting with her hair. She bundled it into a bun at the nape of her neck, held it there, and stared at herself. Then she let it down and let it fall wetly to her shoulders.
She stared at her image in the mirror.
She did it again.
Bun.
Flat.
Me.
Her.
She looked away.
Rarity’s bathroom was as opulently, if simply, appointed as the rest of the house. Tile covered almost every surface, dark blue in the center, and fading to white above, and a faint yellow below. It was almost like being on the beach again. Except for the mirror.
The reflection staring back at her looked odd. The mirror was clear, and that was her face staring back at her. But she still found it hard to reconcile the girl reflected in the glass with who she was. She tugged at her hair, pulled it away from her ears, then swept it forward. The girl in the mirror still didn’t look any different than the girl in the photographs.
Bangs. Other Twilight had bangs, too. She frowned at them, then at her long, straight, and still very wet hair. The photograph began to bleed over into the mirror, delicately tufted pony ears replaced her human ones, and wings—
She sighed and slumped forward against the counter, staring at herself staring back at her other self. The photograph faded away, and she was Twilight Sparkle, human girl, again.
“Twilight, dear?” Rarity’s voice came, muffled, through the door. A faint knock tapped at the door a moment later. “Are you doing alright?”
“I’m fine!” she called back.
“You’ve been in there for an hour.”
Has it been that long? “I’m sorry. I didn’t know I was hogging the bathroom.” She paused, looking down at her purple pajamas, decorated only with a single, satin stripe around the chest. “I’ll be out in a sec.”
“No rush,” Rarity called back. “Do you need some help?”
“Yes.” It escaped her mouth before she could think. She sighed. “No.”
“Can I come in?” Rarity jiggled the knob.
Twilight stood and went to open the door. She paused, hand on the lock. “I’m okay, really. I just need some time to…” Lies burbled forth. Go to the bathroom. Wash my hair. Brush my teeth. All things she had already done. “Think,” she finished.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Rarity’s voice sounded concerned.
Twilight could almost see her face: Rarity biting her bottom lip as soon as she’d finished the question, could almost feel her hand through the doorknob. She turned the lock.
“No.” She opened the door.
Rarity stood in the door, bottom lip caught between her teeth. “You’ve been quiet ever since you came back from your walk.” Her eyes flicked, for the briefest of glances, to Twilight’s hand, then back up to her face. “Did… something happen?”
Her hand jerked behind her back before she could stop it. The memory of fingers brushing her palm returned. “N-no. Nothing happened.” Her cheeks felt like they were on fire. Of course Rarity would have been able to see. We weren’t hiding it. She dropped her hand back down, then backed away from the door. “We talked.”
“Good.” Rarity followed her into the bathroom, then closed the door, but didn’t lock it. “Twilight, you don’t have to hide in here. We’re happy to have you join us.”
“I’m not hiding.” She pulled her hair back, then reached for the brush. “I’m waiting for my hair to dry.”
Rarity’s brow arched, and she crossed her arms over her chest.
“I’m sorry.” Twilight backed up and sat on the hard wooden stool in front of the mirror. “I’m worrying again. I’m not very good at vacationing, am I?” She looked aside, locking eyes with herself in the mirror, then looked down at the brush in her lap. Shame coiled around her throat, and her fingers squeaked on the smooth wooden brush handle as she gripped it tighter.
“Twilight…” Rarity’s lips moved, but nothing came out. Finally, she smiled and knelt in front of Twilight, hands resting on the brush. “You know what always made me feel better?”
“Brushing your hair?” Twilight said, lifting a damp strand and flicking it back and forth. She tried to smile, but it fell apart into a frown. Fingers brushed her cheek, then cupped under her chin. She didn’t resist when gentle pressure guided her to look up.
“No.” Rarity paused, lips pursed. “Well, yes. That, too. But what really helps me relax is being pampered.” Gentle fingers loosened her grip on the brush. “Can I do that for you?”
Cadance’s voice popped into her head: “Twily, bedtime!”
She felt her babysitter’s fingers stroking through her hair again. Over and over, gentle and caring. “Oh! You’ve done your forty strokes already?”
“Yes.” She let Rarity take the brush from her. The voice faded, and she took a deep breath, coming back to the present.
Rarity’s blue eyes were locked onto hers. “Twilight?”
For a moment, those eyes flashed violet, and she saw Cadance’s face again. Then it was gone, and Rarity was waiting for her. One hand rested on the brush, the other touching her chin. “I would like that.”
Rarity set the brush on the counter, then stood and stepped around her. “What are you thinking about?” She asked, fingers brushing over Twilight’s cheek and neck to gather up the wet locks.
“Things.” She tensed again, then sighed. “Twilight,” she said, rubbing her temples. The tension left.
“Ah.” Rarity fell quiet, her hands busy teasing and tweaking, brushing and stroking.
Twilight caught a glance of her in the mirror. Rarity’s hands moved with a smooth surety, deftly separating the different colors of her hair and splaying them smoothly along the damp back of her pajamas. After her afternoon with Fluttershy, holding hands and walking along the beach, the attention felt natural.
“I used to do this for Sweetie Belle,” Rarity said in a wistful lilt. “She would complain and complain, and then finally relent and let me brush her hair straight.” She clucked her tongue. “Not that it ever stayed that way. She takes after mother far more than I do.”
Fingers pressed into Twilight’s scalp, sending a shiver through her body. Nails brushed lightly at her hair’s roots over and over again until her toes curled.
“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Rarity said as her fingers were joined by the stiff, plastic-tipped bristles of the brush. The brushing settled into a soothing rhythm.
Twilight nodded.
The stroking motion of the brush and the fingers continued steadily. Crown to nape. Nape and away. Over and over. She let her eyes close, losing herself in the simple, almost sensual bliss.
Rarity hummed quietly over the sound of the brush whisking through smooth, drying locks of hair.
As the tension bled away from her shoulders and back, the tune changed to one reminiscent of one of the songs they’d played just for fun after the battle of the bands was over.
“Shine Like Rainbows?” she asked, opening her eyes and looking at Rarity’s reflection.
“It’s quite catchy, isn’t it?” Rarity smiled. “Thank you for helping us write it.” She paused, brush stalling momentarily. “I’ve been meaning to ask, but where did you learn to sing?”
“My mom. She used to sing for a band when she was younger,” Twilight said. “I tried to sing like her when I was little, and she got me a vocal coach.” She shrugged. “I didn’t sing much after I got older, but it’s not like I could forget the lessons.”
“That would explain a lot.” Rarity tapped the top of her head with the brush. “Still, you have a lovely singing voice. Once you cleared out the cobwebs.” The brush resumed stroking through her hair. “Your hair is as smooth as silk. Do you brush it at night?”
“Sometimes.” Twilight’s thoughts strayed to other nights where someone had helped her brush. “Cadance, my babysitter—” Twilight slapped a hand over her mouth.
Rarity smiled and patted the hand away. “It’s okay, you know. I had one when we I was younger, too. When my parents were off making some business deal in this or that foreign country.” She paused her brushing momentarily. “And then I was the babysitter when Sweetie was old enough to stay home.”
“Cadance… she taught me why I should brush my hair. Exactly forty brushes. Hand over comb to help keep the hair soft, and prevent split ends.” Twilight recited the instructions from memory, repeated over and over after Cadance had showed her. “I looked it up in a book, later, but couldn’t find any evidence to back it up.”
“Not everything has to be backed up with evidence, you know. Sometimes…” Rarity’s hands stalled. The brush fell away, and she sniffled.
“Are you okay?” What do I do? Twilight shifted, then turned to look up at Rarity.
“I don’t know.” Rarity rubbed at her eyes while tears ran in clear rivulets down her cheeks. She flashed a trembling smile, and waved the brush at the bathroom. “No. Just… sometimes you mull something over without really thinking about it and then…” She waved the brush again, then set it down, her hand shaking. “Then it just hits you.”
Understanding struck. The house. She stood and pulled Rarity around in front of the stool with a gentle tug on her wrist. “It’s okay, Rarity. We’ll figure something out, okay?”
Rarity didn’t resist. “Oh, I know. I worry, is all.” She snorted. “And here I am telling you not to worry.” She sniffed again, and sat down, hands folded in her lap. “I should learn to take my own advice.”
Twilight hesitated as she stepped around behind Rarity, fingers resting on the brush. Will she let me?
Rarity sat still, staring down at her hands while tears dripped, slower and slower, to run down the back of her hand.
“I’ve been thinking, too,” Twilight said, fingers closing over the brush’s smooth handle. A moment later, she was slipping her fingers through Rarity’s curled locks, then following it with a smooth downsweep of the brush. The exact train of thought that led to that moment escaped her.
Maybe there wasn’t one. Thoughts popped in and out of her mind, unheeded. Worries drifted away on the whisper of the brush as silk flowed through her fingers.
The tears slowed to a stop, and Rarity sat up straighter. “I’m sorry. This house, the memories…”
“It will work out, in the end,” Twilight said, pausing to cup Rarity’s cheek lightly.
“I know it will. Somehow.” Rarity rubbed her cheek against the hand and looked up. “Friends,” Rarity sang in a whisper, “you are in my life.”
“And you can count on me to be there by your side,” Twilight sang back, her voice low and cracking at the end. She dropped the brush on the counter, and leaned forward to wrap Rarity in a tight hug. “I promise.”
“There y’all are.” Applejack’s smile greeted Twilight as she and Rarity started down the stairs. “We was wonderin’ what happened.”
“I had a…” Twilight trailed off, worries sprouting again, her hand clutching a strand of hair. She took a deep breath, gave herself a mental shake, and forced her attention to the stairs.
Halfway down, she looked up to see her friends, concern written in their faces, staring up at her. For me. An hour in the bathroom. An hour trying to decide who she was. Her eyes flicked to Fluttershy, who smiled brightly at her. She flipped her hair back. “I had to... think about something.”
Her friends traded more concerned looks with each other.
Twilight’s cheeks burned. Do they all know why I’ve been... weird?
“And she helped me to see what this house means,” Rarity said. She reached back to take Twilight’s hand, then continued, voice tighter: “To me, and to all of us. Th-this isn’t just a vacation house that’s difficult to keep up. This is my childhood.” Her other hand slapped the railing. “This is our retreat.” She drew Twilight down a few steps, and wrapped an arm around her waist. “We are going to save this house.” Her confident stance faltered, but she lifted her chin. “I don’t know how yet, but we’re going to do it. This will not be our last vacation here.”
“I’ll admit, I was gettin’ kinda worried. I mean, you did kinda just drop that on us.” Applejack peered at her cards, frowned, and folded. “Then nothin’ happened for a couple days. We just kinda... had fun.” She rubbed the back of her neck, looking uncomfortable.
“Nothing wrong with having fun.” Pinkie grinned and laid out a straight flush, and gathered up the winnings: a bag of chips and two sodas. “So where do we start?” She popped the tab on a soda and sucked hurriedly at the foam bubbling up. “Gah!”
Rarity shook her head. “I don’t know. This isn’t like everything else we’ve faced together, is it? No monsters, no villains, just this house, and us.” She started down the stairs again, one hand trailing along the smooth, warmly accented wooden railing. “I don’t even know where to start, really.”
“We start with a plan.” A plan to... do what, exactly? Twilight frowned, then followed Rarity down, letting her hand drop to her side again. Do research. “We need to know what we’re getting into, first. Then we can make a real plan. Rarity, you said the maintenance was the most expensive part, right?”
Rarity gave a hesitant nod, frowning. “I don’t know the exact expenses, but that is one of the things my parents are keen on reducing. I... admit that I don’t know much about my parent’s finances. They’re careful not to talk about them until they think we’re asleep.”
“Makes sense. I wouldn’t want Apple Bloom to worry about the farm,” Applejack said, and tossed a fistful of paper towels to Pinkie, still struggling to keep up with the less vigorously foaming can. “Wouldn’t be as regular as patching up a barn, I’d think.” She glanced around at the sumptuous interior, then up at the vaulted ceiling. “‘Course, barns aren’t so fancy. Or remote.”
“True.” Rarity tipped her head to the side, then looked back up to where Twilight stood, hesitant, a few steps above her. “I never did finish with your hair,” Rarity said, catching Twilight’s hand again. “Come on down, and I’ll fix it up however you want.”
Fluttershy’s smile grew wider, and she winked at Twilight. “So, how are you going to fix your hair?”
“Um.” Me. Her. She tried to shake the conundrum from her head, but ‘bun’ stuck at the tip of her tongue, tempting her with the utilitarian simplicity of it. Old me. “B-braid.” She swallowed, and repeated in a calmer voice: “I would like a braid.”
Rarity didn’t even bat an eye. “You know, I think you would look wonderful with a simple braid. You’ve definitely got the length for it.” Her smile grew. “Let’s have a seat. This is going to take a while.”
Fluttershy reached over a photobook sitting between her and Rainbow Dash, and prodded the other girl. “You too, Rainbow.”
Rainbow sputtered. “What? Me? With fru-fru braids?”
Twilight looked down at the book as she followed Rarity past. The pages were filled with pictures of them together: at the Battle of the Bands and, later, at the encore performance on the stage in front of the entire school. Another later photo showed all seven of them lined up and singing the simple harmony of Shine Like Rainbows. Twilight’s heart swelled as the memory of the song, of singing something she’d help to write, set the spark alight.
Sunset Shimmer was there in the center with Twilight at her side, sharing the microphone. It had been a new, amazing experience, sharing like that. I wish she had come with us.
“Not fru-fru,” Fluttershy said softly, bringing Twilight back to the present. “I promise.”
“But...” Rainbow bundled her hair up in one smooth motion and snapped it into a ponytail, securing it with the band around her wrist. “I like it like this. Easy to get ready for a game. Fast, too. See?”
“Please? I promise it’s for a good reason.” Fluttershy’s eyes flicked up to Twilight and then back, eyebrows arching pointedly. When Rainbow didn’t respond, she reached up to tug the elastic band free.
Rainbow didn’t try to stop her, and only quirked an eyebrow.
Fluttershy leaned back after a moment, slipping the rainbow band around her wrist. “I’ll bake some of your favorite double apple crisper cookies!” Fluttershy winked up at Twilight as she passed, smile growing brighter.
Twilight blushed, averting her eyes, and let herself be guided to sit at the coffee table while Rarity settled in behind her.
“Fine,” Rainbow said, rolling her eyes while a smile betrayed the false grump in her voice. “I’ll let you braid my hair.” She closed the book and scooted up to the table next to Twilight. “So, you got a plan?”
Twilight looked around at her friends. “Maybe. It all depends on what we can contribute.” She leaned back at Rarity’s light tug. “And what Rarity’s parents are willing to continue doing.” That’s the sticking point. We need to know more. She pushed away the sour thought and tapped a finger on the table. “We can’t do this all on our own. Not unless they’re willing to help.”
Fluttershy looked up from separating out Rainbow’s varicolored hair into strands. “What if they don’t want to?”
“They might be willing,” Rarity said. Her fingers never stopped moving, straightening and smoothing down Twilight’s hair. “They have kept it so far. I just heard them talking one night while doing homework. You know, that big project we had due for Mrs. Harshwhinny’s history class? It didn’t get too heated, and I admit I didn’t hear much, but they were talking about ‘leaning up’ their finances.” She frowned. “The house came up.”
“That could mean anything, though,” Twilight said. “I wouldn’t jump straight to assuming that they were going to sell it.”
“He was definitely in full ‘we need to save more money’ mode. College is coming up for me, and my parents are insistent that I not go into debt to pay for it.” Rarity shook her head, and tugged firmly on a one of the strands. “This property was one of the things dad mentioned as a ‘legacy’ item. He didn’t sound happy about it.”
“Well, shoot. I don’t think you’ve got anything to worry about. When Granny Smith goes on about legacy, it’s always about stuff that’s stayed in the family. Usually stories, though.” Applejack frowned at her cards, drew a new one, and blinked. “Huh. It could be estate planning, too.” She frowned, glancing between her cards and Pinkie. “Granny said ma and pa left a good legacy for us. Could be that?”
The room was quiet for a moment. The reminder of Applejack’s parent’s deaths settled like a pall around the table, along with the insinuation about Rarity’s.
Her fingers stalled, trembling, on Twilight’s back.
“That’s not what I meant, Rares!” Applejack drummed a finger against her forehead, frowning. “How do I put this? You said your dad was a savvy business type, and this is the kinda thing he’d make sure was set straight long before it’s needed. Sure, it’s hard to think like that, but I’m sure he’s just makin’ sure if the worst does happen, y’all are taken care of.”
“That’s a good point,” Rarity said. Her fingers stayed still. “It would explain why they were talking about it so late at night.”
“Right,” Twilight said, patting Rarity’s knee. “Maybe it’s just making sure you’ve got something. A legacy.”
Rarity hummed softly in reply, but didn’t say anything.
Quiet fell around the table. Rarity’s fingers started moving again: pulling, tweaking and weaving back and forth along a braid that was getting longer and heavier against Twilight’s neck.
It felt good, letting Rarity pamper her hair. She looked around at her friends. Rainbow, tongue clenched between her teeth while she tapped and swiped at a game on her phone, a triumphant grin spreading the more furiously she tapped at the screen. Fluttershy, humming quietly along with Rarity while her fingers danced back and forth over Rainbow’s back, eyes lidded; she was smiling, too.
Applejack stared hard at Pinkie, her cards held close to her chest, but a smile played across her lips—a cocky twist curling them upwards. Pinkie stared over her cards, giggling and tapping them against lips curved into a devious grin.
Her friends were all smiling.
Twilight touched her face lightly; she was smiling, too. She was having fun doing something with her friends. “Don’t worry about it now. We’re here to enjoy the time off, right? This is a vacation.”
“You’re right,” Rarity said. “You are absolutely right, Twilight. This is a vacation.”
“And vacations are for having fun with friends,” Pinkie said, and laid out her hand.
Applejack smirked, laid out her cards, and claimed the pot. “That’s right! No more worryin’. Heck, even if we lose this place, we’ll still have the memories, right?”
“Aw come on!” Rainbow cried, holding her phone up, the screen dark. No matter how hard she waved it, the screen stayed dark. “Stupid battery!”
Behind her, Fluttershy coughed, and tweaked Rainbow’s almost completed braid.
“Oh, um…” The phone got set on the table, dark screen facing up. She tapped it, eyes flicking side to side. “Yeah.” She looked over her shoulder at the gathering gloom spreading across the beach and the badminton net. “Fun.”
“I’m having fun.” Fluttershy tugged the braid one final time, then slipped the elastic tie from her wrist and tied it off. “You should have brought some books, instead of just your phone. Rarity said there wasn’t any cell reception here. Or chargers.”
“Psh. Readin’s for—” Rainbow caught herself, glancing at Twilight, and stammered: “Ah… heh. Sorry.”
“Rainbow, I’m surprised at you. I would have thought you’d be a fan of action-packed books. Why, I do so love a stirring romance,” Rarity said, clucking her tongue. She paused to wrap the end of Twilight’s new braid in a tight elastic band. “All done!”
“You know, I brought a few books,” Twilight said, kicking a foot against her backpack. “I could lend you one.”
“Uh, thanks, Twi, but no thanks. I never could get into that whole reading for fun thing.” She reached up and twitched the tight bundle of her hair back and forth. Six streaks of color wound down in a tight, intricate pattern from nape to below her shoulder. “That’s pretty cool, ‘Shy. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome!”
“You should wear it in a braid more often, Rainbow. It looks neato,” Pinkie said, leaning over to pluck at the braid. “Like, what is it you said? Twenty—”
“Pinkie, that was just the slogan for the band. It’s not something I’d say every day.” Rainbow rolled her eyes, and flicked the bristly end of her braid against the other girl’s nose. “It is pretty cool, though.”
“Twenty percent cooler?” Twilight asked, a mischievous curl tweaking her smile.
“Ugh. Fine. Yes. The braid is ‘twenty percent cooler.’” Rainbow laughed, shaking her head.
The sun had yet to rise above the wall of the cliffs, but a golden glimmer was spreading through the branches of a tree high up on the bluff, signalling the start of morning. All around Twilight, her friends still slept. In sleeping bags laid out atop padded mats or curled up on one of the two couches.
Twilight fingered her braid, tucked over her shoulder and under her chin. It felt odd, and the thick braid was far shorter than her hair’s usual length. She glanced at Rainbow, sleeping on the loveseat at her back, and touched the other girl’s braid lightly.
She sleeps pretty deeply, Twilight thought as her fingers traced the blue streak through a tight spiral. Rainbow didn’t wake up, didn’t even move except to breathe slow and steadily.
And here I am, writing in my journal. I don’t know what to think, anymore. Was I really trying to act like the Twilight they first befriended? Was I acting that way last night? Was I trying to do things I would do? Or was I doing things I think she would do?
The night before had been a wonderful respite from the worry. Even having started as rocky as it had, a poker game had started up. The bets had been paid in premium snack foods, s’mores, and soda.
Twilight stared at the journal in the dim, flickering light of the dying fire and then at the fireplace. The remains of the essentials of making s’mores lay carefully repackaged and organized on the bricks.
Ghost stories had followed, and a night of listening to her friends one-upping each other with scarier and scarier stories had finally culminated in Pinkie Pie telling them all about the mad cupcake maker of 23 Baker Street.
I don’t think my story, about the librarian who stole memories with her books, went over very well. It wasn’t original. Not like Pinkie’s story. It was something my babysitter told me when we did something like this. Should I have tried to come up with something on my own? I’m worried that if I do, it’ll look like I’m trying to be her again. Do the others see it, or only Fluttershy? I certainly didn’t. I just wanted...
Pen tapped against paper. She knew the truth, but it hurt to think that she had so easily tried to cast aside who she was to...
“To be happy?”
Twilight startled and looked up. Rainbow Dash, curled up on the loveseat behind her, was looking over her shoulder with one eye open and braid tucked up under her cheek.
“Rainbow!” Twilight whispered. “You’re supposed to be asleep.”
“Nah. You mumble when you’re thinking really hard, you know,” Rainbow said, keeping her voice low. She yawned, stretched, and draped an arm over Twilight’s shoulder.
“I didn’t realize. Sorry.” Closing the notebook after Rainbow must have read most of the last entry seemed pointless. “I…” She stared at the words, her cheeks burning.
“Eh, don’t worry about it. Least you don’t snore.”
Twilight risked a look over her shoulder.
Rainbow winked at her, and tapped the open book. “I didn’t really notice it either, y’know.” Her finger rested lightly below the drying ink. “Or, maybe I did.” She shrugged, scooting forward, and rested her cheek on Twilight’s shoulder, arm dangling to the floor.
“What do you mean?” The words on the page suggested a reason.Twilight knew her own reasons. Does she see something else? She closed the book on her own thoughts, tossed it on the coffee table. The sharp smack of the book landing on the table made her flinch, but a glance around said her friends were still sleeping off the s’mores and sodas. Not even Applejack was awake yet. I think.
Rainbow’s eyes were closed again when Twilight looked back, and her breathing had settled back down to a sleepy, tired rhythm.
“It’s okay,” Twilight whispered, and lifted a hand to stroke Rainbow’s hair. I’ll figure it out. She lost herself in thought and the soft, sleek hair under her fingers. Up on the cliff, the tree’s golden crown crept farther down the thin trunk.
“I just thought you were trying a little too hard to fit in.”
“Hmm?”
Rainbows hand came up to rest on Twilight’s. “You were doing everything you could to make us happy with you.” She pulled the hand down, squeezed it, and let go. “Makes sense, though, the way you wrote it. I can’t imagine what it musta been like, at first, for you.”
Twilight bit her lip. What should I do? The thought popped into her mind, along with Fluttershy’s insistence: “We want to hear what you have to say.”
“What?” Rainbow’s brow furrowed.
“What should I do?” The words felt right, hearing them aloud.
“Don’t sweat it.” Rainbow swung her legs around and slipped to the floor beside Twilight. “Just try to, uh…” She scratched at the back of her head. “Just be yourself, I guess.”
“But being myself is that. I write… it helps me think.” Twilight leaned forward and rapped a finger against the book. “I don’t know if I can be… comfortable without this.”
“Twi, it’s not about being comfortable all the time. Maybe…” Rainbow shrugged again. “Maybe you just need to try something outside of your comfort zone.”
“I want to, but—”
“Badminton this afternoon. You and me.”
“But I don’t even know how to play!”
“So? You’re better than you think already.” Rainbow flipped her braid. “You got rid of some drag. Aerodynamic is good.”
“Aero... Rainbow, that’s not how it works.”
Rainbow pointed to the journal. “And that is? You don’t know what to think anymore, so stop thinking. Do something.”
“No, Twi. Just… no.” Rainbow stared up at her from the foot of the stairs. “You’re going to play sports, not lounge on the beach.”
“What’s wrong with this?” Twilight looked down at her jeans and purple star sweater. “It was cold yesterday.” She looked back at Rainbow, wearing tights that went to her knees, a short blue skirt, and a lightning bolt emblazoned sports bra. She was even barefoot.
“It wasn’t cold. Not once we got going, anyway. It was just breezy. Heck, even Rarity pulled her shawl off after that first game. Girl’s got—”
Rarity’s head snapped up, eyes locking on Rainbow Dash. “Excuse me?”
“—uh, nice hair.”
Rarity smiled, settling down with a browned bagel, slathered with cream cheese, at the coffee table. Her eyes shifted to Twilight. “You do look quite nice, but I do think that Rainbow is right. As uncouth as she tried to say it.”
Twilight plucked at the sweater’s sleeves. “So, what should I wear? I didn’t pack a lot more than things like this.”
Rainbow started up the stairs, sunlight streaming in from the east highlighting the toned, not quite smooth abs. “I’ll help you decide.”
Twilight stared for a moment, then dropped her arms to cover her not quite so flat stomach. “But…”
“Twi, don’t worry. So what if you’ve got a bit of a paunch?” Rainbow reached up and patted her stomach. “It’s cute.” The hand lingered on her stomach, fingers tickling while Rainbow smirked, then clenched tight on the bottom edge of the sweater, and dragged her along as Rainbow reached the balcony.
“H-hey!”
“Come on. Let’s see what we can get you into.” She headed towards the single bedroom that had been repurposed as a dressing room.
“I can dress myself!”
Rainbow shot a glance over her shoulder, and grinned. “Of course you can. Trust me, though. You’ll start overheating and want to take off your sweater.” She smiled at Twilight’s reddening cheeks. “I can guess what you’re wearin’ underneath. Or I can help you pick somethin’ you’ll be comfortable in.”
“But—”
“Let me help, ‘kay? I promise you’ll feel more comfortable if you’re wearing the right clothes.”
Her cheeks flushing darkly, arms crossed over her stomach still, she nodded. “Okay.”
“This?” Twilight asked, staring incredulously in the mirror. She was wearing a short, purple fringed skirt over one of Rarity’s bathing suit bottoms. It was barely decent, and the bright blue sports bra was only slightly better. “Are you sure Rarity is okay with me borrowing her bottom?”
Rainbow snickered and prodded Twilight’s bottom. “I’m not sure I would have put it that way, but she is very generous.”
“Um.” Twilight’s hands fell to brush her hips, then shifted to cover her stomach.
“Can’t believe you didn’t pack a sports bra or skirt.” Rainbow stepped up beside her, considering the both of them in the mirror, fingers tapping her chin. “Still, looks good on ya.”
“I wasn’t exactly thinking about being active.” She tugged the edge of the fringy wrap up higher, only to have Rainbow bat her hands away and resettle the wrap around her waistline.
“Stop that. You look fine.” Rainbow slipped an arm around her waist and patted her soft belly, looking at the both of them in the mirror. “So what if you’ve got a little pudge. It looks good on you. And you’ll be more comfortable like this, without the wrap digging in when you bend over.”
“Also, I do have a little more up top than you, and this feels tight.” Twilight ran a finger under the tight strap on her shoulder. “Can’t I just wear—”
“Nope. Not gonna let you wear that frilly thing. It’s too loose for runnin’ around.” Rainbow shook her head. “Trust me. You’ll thank me when your back doesn’t hurt as much later today.” She grinned at the mirror and prodded Twilight in the side. ‘Sides. You look good. Come on.”
Twilight followed Rainbow back out of the tornado-wrecked bedroom and downstairs to her waiting friends. Not a one of them even looked at her stomach for more than a moment, and no longer than they’d looked at the rest of her.
“Lookin’ good there, sugarcube,” Applejack said, looking up from a breakfast of oatmeal and apple slices. “You plannin’ on joinin’ us for a few games this afternoon?”
“I, um…” Twilight had to make a conscious effort not to cover her exposed stomach. “Yes. Rainbow’s going to teach me how to play.”
“Not just play, Twi. Playing is easy. You and me, we’re gonna win.”
“Do I smell a challenge?” Applejack grinned. “Because that sounds like a challenge.”
“Yeah!” Rainbow dropped her hand to grab Twilight’s, and raised both of them in a triumphant gesture. “Me and Twi, we’re gonna drop you and…”
“Me!” Pinkie Pie shouted. “Oh, pick me!”
“Alright, Pinkie. You and me.” Applejack’s smile broadened as she stirred her cereal. “No offense Twi, but y’all are goin’ down. That first s’moregasbord will be mine!”
“Ours,” Pinkie said, plopping down next to Applejack with a bowl of dry sugar packed cereal. “First two. When the stick isn’t all goopy, just lightly toasted, the chocolate oh-so-gooey, and the whipped cream just starting to drizzle down the sides.” Pinkie licked her lips, staring off into space.
“Don’t forget the caramelized apple slices,” Applejack added, joining Pinkie into staring off into space.
“Why haven’t we had any yet?” Twilight asked, standing behind a chair to hide her stomach. She was almost certain that she had a full belly blush. “If they’re so good—”
Pinkie’s expression of comical horror stopped her.
“You don’t just have s’moregasbords on the first day! Or even the second!” Pinkie tapped a finger on the table. “The apples have to sit and gooey up, or else they won’t be ooey-gooey enough, and that’s what makes it a gasbord and not just a s’more.”
Applejack nodded. “They do taste better with age.”
“Oh.” It made sort of sense, and she looked at Rainbow, who was halfway along the way to drooling. “I’ll do my best.”
“Twi, don’t stand so… tight.” Rainbow, sitting at the edge of the badminton court, flicked a finger at her feet. “You gotta be ready to go after the birdie. You missed that second one because your feet were all out of place.”
Twilight shifted her feet in the sand, staring across the net at Applejack, standing in an orange t-shirt with her swimsuit bottom just visible under the hem. “Like this?” Twilight shifted her feet again, pressing her heels more deeply into the loose, dry, cold sand, and shivered.
“Um.” Rainbow shook her head and scrubbed at her hair with both hands. “Hold on. I think…” She sighed and pushed herself up from where Fluttershy was prodding her and jogged over to stand behind Twilight. “Put your feet almost on top of mine, then bend your knees.”
“Okay. Now what?” Twilight kept her attention on her feet, mostly to ignore the hands resting just above her waist. How Rainbow stayed warm while sitting was a mystery. She was as skimpily dressed as Twilight.
“Little less bend. I don’t want your butt in my lap.”
She could almost feel Rainbow’s smirk, and blushed when her friend’s hands shifted to her hips, and pushed her just slightly forward.
“Well, this isn’t awkward at all.” Twilight covered her mouth as soon as the words slipped from her lips.
Rainbow’s snicker eased her sudden worry. “Don’t worry about it.”
The hands left Twilight’s hips, and she could feel one hovering over her stomach. Her breathing grew shallower, more nervous. The hands never touched, just radiated their warmth.
“Good. Now, show me your racket.” Rainbow stepped back and walked around in front of Twilight.
Images of a tennis match flashed through her mind, remnants of the olympic games from the last summer. She tried to mimic the sure pose of those athletes, only to have Rainbow catch her wrists mid-swing.
“Not quite. This isn’t tennis. One hand, loose wrist.” Rainbow tugged her wrist lightly, then shook her arm until the racket flopped like a fish. “Like that. You don’t want to whack the birdie. Just tap it for now.”
“Okay.” Rainbow’s hands were warm where they touched hers, and sent a shiver through her. Cold crept up her feet from the sand, and an occasional warm breeze from the ocean kept a fresh chill across her chest and bare stomach from the steadier wind coming down from the bluffs.
“Not so tightly.” Rainbow’s hand on her wrist tugged until she let go of the tension. “You want to have your wrist loose.” She nodded across the net to Applejack. “Gently, please.”
“Okay. I’m ready.” Twilight braced herself, only to have Rainbow walk back around push a knee gently into the back of hers. “Right. Loose.”
“Yep.” The warmth against her backside left again, and then Applejack nodded to some signal from Rainbow.
Bop. The shuttlecock sailed over the net in a slow arc and Twilight shifted her racket to meet it.
Bop. The birdie sailed back over the net, to be met gently by Applejack’s racket. A moment later, the hands returned to her hips and forced her side to side.
“Loose, keep loose. Don’t tense up.”
Her eyes stayed on the birdie, but she let herself be settled into a more comfortable stance by Rainbow’s rough direction.
Bop. Back it came, and this time she felt freer with the motion, and sent it back over the net. The hands left again, but the birdie stayed her focus.
Back and forth, slow, gentle. The arc of the parabola made more sense the longer she watched and paid attention to it. She tried shifting the racket slightly, angling the return swipe. Then, after a few back and forths, the wind came up and shifted the birdie’s flight low, into the net.
“Good job, Twilight!” Rarity called out from the arrangement of seashells spread out on the blanket between her and Fluttershy.
“I missed.”
“You aimed the birdie too low,” Rainbow said. She retrieved the game piece and tossed it to Twilight. “The wind will do as it does, and it’s important to remember that. But you’ve got the basics down. Time for a match!”
“I-I don’t think I’m ready for that.” She looked between the birdie and the racket in her hands, then at Rainbow Dash. “I’ve just hit it back and forth a few times. What if I screw up and we lose?”
“It’ll be fine. I’m awesome enough for the both of us!” Rainbow winced, brushing the back of her head. “Um, yeah. You and Pinkie ready, AJ?”
“Ready for the winnings? Heck yeah!” Pinkie licked her lips and leapt up to stand beside Applejack, racket at the ready.
“Ready, Twi?”
She nodded, and tapped the the birdie to Applejack, who blinked and sent it back to Rainbow.
“Gotta pick up the pace,” Rainbow growled as she sent it sizzling between Pinkie and Applejack. It came back, faster than Twilight had ever seen it move, sent by Pinkie’s reflexive backhand.
Right at her.
She froze, her racket in the middle of a backswing as she tried to decide what to do. Angle of swing, speed of swing… Underhand or over? Amount of force? She saw a number of parabola curving away from her racket, most of them ending up in the net, some going straight up. She saw, in a brief moment, Applejack or Pinkie Pie sending it back, and the possibilities multiplied.
Meanwhile, the birdie’s fins bled off velocity until it plopped to the ground at her feet.
She stared at it, her breath coming faster and faster. “I can’t do this,” she whispered.
“Hold on, hold on. Time out!” Rainbow’s voice snapped through the silence, bringing Twilight back to the present. “What was that? It came right at you!”
“I…” The racked started to slip from her fingers.
“Rainbow Dash!” Rarity’s voice snapped out like the crack of a whip.
“I’m sorry, geeze.”
Footsteps came closer until Twilight could see blue feet resting next to hers. A hand closed over hers before the racket fell to the ground. “No, no…” Rainbow’s voice got softer. “I’m sorry. I didn’t…” She trailed off. “Look, Twi. Don’t think so much.”
“But we’re going to lose.”
“Stop it.” Rainbow tapped her leg with the racket. “We are not going to lose. Ya wanna know why?”
“Because you’re awesome?”
“Well, yeah.” Rainbow snorted, and lifted Twilight’s chin. “But I’m awesome because my friends are.” She chuckled. “I think I learned that lesson when you tackled me. Or, uh, after.” She grunted and waved away the issue with her racket. “Point is, you can do this, Twilight. Just stop thinking about it.”
“What if I don’t make the right decision? What if I miss? What if I—”
“Agh! Stop that. You’re thinking again! Sports isn’t about thinking. Not like that chess game you an’ Fluttershy passed back and forth. Sports is about doing!”
“But strategy—”
“Is for games like football, soccer. Badminton is different. It’s simple. Don’t let the birdie hit the sand on our side of the net.”
“But—”
“Birdie no sandy, capiche?”
Twilight paused, looking back down at the birdie. She tapped it with her racket. “Don’t let the birdie hit the sand.”
“Yeah! That’s all there is to it.” Rainbow’s hand let go and came up to clap Twilight on the shoulder. “Got it?”
“I think—” She caught herself, smiled, and lifted her racket. “Yes.”
“We can do this!”
“Yes!”
Rainbow picked up the birdie and placed it in her hand. “You can do this,” she said, more quietly, then stepped away.
How should I— She shook her head and whacked the birdie before another thought could pop into her mind.
It came back a moment later, but she didn’t hesitate. She sent it right back with a hefty smack. The feel of the birdie’s impact thrummed up her wrist, and she smiled. It felt good.
Pinkie shot it back up with a slow underhand that Applejack smashed down into the sand before Twilight or Rainbow could react.
“Nice one!” Rainbow hefted the birdie with a wicked grin and walked back to her place.
Two, zip. Twilight shook her head and fought back the urge to brush her hair out of her eyes. Only her bangs, too short to have made it into the braid, obscured her vision. She nodded to Rainbow.
Rainbow’s serve zipped right at Pinkie, who caught it on a reflexive backhand and sent it back in a high arc.
Twilight lost herself in the exchange, her eyes following the birdie and her feet shifting to place her where she needed to be.
Cheering from the sidelines almost distracted her at a critical moment, but she saw the low set before Applejack sent it back and was there to meet it at the net with a quick swipe into the sand.
“Nice one, Twi! Keep it up!”
“Good shot, Twilight!” Rarity called from the sidelines.
Then the game was back on, and from that moment, her focus was the birdie. Her racket met it when it was close to her, sometimes sending it in the wrong direction, but Rainbow was there to catch it and send it in the right place.
She laughed when she scored again, and felt more than just the tingle in her hand when she high-fived Rainbow.
I’m having fun!
The next few points were Rainbow’s, but not without loss. Twilight missed one by a hair as she leapt after it, racket extended, only to land roughly in the sand on her knees and one hand as the birdie’s feather skirt whispered across the rim. But the whisper of something else stirred in her heart. She was grinning, despite the miss.
“Nice try, Twi! Good dive.” Rainbow helped her back up, then served the next.
Her feet moved of their own accord, carrying her to and away from the net, always after the birdie. The sand was no longer cold under her feet, and the air no longer carried a chill. Her braid danced as she did, and before she knew it, sweat was streaming down her forehead.
Both sides were at equal match, trading point for point as the match wore on. They took a break at the five point mark to drink some lemonade Fluttershy had made from powder packets.
“You’re doing good,” Rainbow said, knocking plastic cups with Twilight in a toast. “Told ya you could do it.”
“I guess I can,” Twilight said with a smile, shaking her head and wiping away the sweat. “I never thought it could be so much fun!”
“Yeah? You ready to turn it up a notch?”
“Yes!” A moment later, reason caught up. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t tell me you haven’t felt it.” Rainbow’s hand came up to flick Twilight’s ear. “I saw it, when you dove for that long shot. You were almost ready to go pony.” She shot a glance at Applejack and Pinkie. “So were they,” she added, then jerked a thumb at her chest. “So was I.”
“I got lost in how much fun I was having,” Twilight said, reaching up to brush her human ear. “Was I really about to, um, ‘go pony?’“ She glanced at Rarity and Fluttershy, then at Applejack and Pinkie Pie. “I thought that was only for music.”
“I dunno about that. I mean, sure you started to get the ears, but…” Rainbow shrugged, giving her a sheepish grin. “Don’t think too much about it. Just have fun.”
Just have fun. There was a possibility she might learn something new about the magic, but in order to do so, she couldn’t pay attention to it. But learning is fun!
Another part of her objected: Learning is something you have always done alone before.
“Uh, earth to Twilight?” Rainbow was staring into her eyes from far too close.
“Gah!”
“You kinda spaced out there for a sec. You doin’ okay?”
“Just… thinking.” Twilight shook her head again and ducked behind her cup to hide the blush.
“Don’t think. Just have fun.” Rainbow slapped her on the shoulder again. “We’re gonna win this! I can just feel it.”
Just feel it. Twilight felt, again, the joy of singing with her friends on the makeshift stage, and the earlier moment when Sunset Shimmer looked to her for help, desperation in her voice. “We need you!”
Her earlier uncertainty had been stripped away. Her friend needed her. And she’d stepped up, the words of the song flowing through the bond connecting them. She’d known the song as well as if she’d written it.
She knew what to do. With her friends by her side…
“Let’s do this.” Twilight downed the last, sugary dregs, crushed the cup, and grabbed her racket again.
“Aw yeah! You’re goin’ down!” Rainbow cried, leaping back into the court.
The game started again, but there was something different. Twilight felt it in her heart as she played, barely paying attention to it. Every laugh ignited a rainbow spark in her vision, every point scored or lost made it grow stronger.
The points didn’t matter. The birdie didn’t matter.
She was having fun. That was all that mattered.
On the sidelines, Rarity and Fluttershy cheered on both sides, their laughter growing brighter, their cheers shimmering in the cool afternoon air.
Banter from her friends shot back and forth, cheerful taunts between close friends. Only her voice was missing, but no banter came to mind.
“Nine, Twilight. Just one more and we win!”
“They’ve got nine, too,” she reminded, her voice strained from laughing and running. Smiling, with the thrill of the game zinging through her, she wiped sweat from her brow again. The dancing rainbow bands connecting her to her friends were almost visible, and she could almost feel their enjoyment as though it were her own.
“Yeah, but we can do it. Come on!”
The game resumed again, the birdie flipping back and forth almost faster than Twilight could follow. Rainbow’s ears flared blue as the match went on and sand flew, wings sprouted from her shoulder blades, but she stayed mostly ground-bound, only using her wings to leap from place to place. On the other side of the net, Pinkie and Applejack laughed as their pony ears flared into existence.
The game went on, none of them pausing to take stock of their ears or longer ponytails. And then she saw Applejack stumble, her racket going low but still catching the birdie.
It would come high, perfect for a downward slam.
“Neighton never knew what hit him!” she cried as the birdie came in. Rainbow’s cheer spurred her on and, as she leapt, she knew she was going to win. Magic flared in her heart, spread through her veins, and an explosion of rainbow power ignited the change. Her wings caught the air and sent her soaring to meet the birdie in midair.
“Yeah! Taste those S’mores!” Rainbow cried as Twilight’s racket met the birdie at the apex of its flight and sent it sizzling into the sand.
“Whoa!” Pinkie stared, mouth dropped open.
Applejack’s mouth hung open, and she slumped back to the ground.
Twilight realized where she was, and why, a moment later. The magic slipped away, ears, wings, and tail disappearing in a flash, and she tumbled the last couple feet to the ground.
“That! Was! Awesome!” Rainbow laughed as she ran to help Twilight back up. “Yeah! Twilight with the magic smackdown!”
“What happened?” Twilight looked up at the hand held out for her. “I thought—”
Rainbow nodded. “Now, you can think.” She laughed again. “Trust you to come up with some nerdy banter.” She slapped Twilight’s shoulder again and drew her away from the court.
“Good game, y’all.” Applejack said, smiling. “I suppose that means you two get first pick of the s’mores tonight, huh?”
“Deal’s a deal!” Rainbow said, nodding. “Bigger question is, who’s gonna make em.”
“Well,” Rarity said, standing up and brushing flecks of shell and sand from her fingers, “considering how messy you were last night, Rainbow, I think it should be Pinkie Pie. Shockingly, she—”
“I’m shocked, Rarity!” Pinkie gasped. “To think that I would make a mess of s’mores!”
“I have seen your kitchen after a baking frenzy, remember?”
“But, s’mores, Rarity! I would never disrespect s’mores.” Pinkie prodded Rarity’s arm. “I would never make a mess of the tastiest of tasties to ever see this side of a campfire. That’d just be rude.”
Twilight plopped down on her towel and laid down, staring up at the bright afternoon sky. Clouds had moved in, light white clouds that nonetheless hid the blue and the sun aside from a faint rainbow nimbus around a bright white disc.
Rainbow sat down next to her and lay back next to her, arms crossed behind her head. “Not bad for your first time, eh?”
“Did I really do that well?” She turned her head to look at Rainbow, raising one hand to shade her eyes from the white brilliance above.
“Eh, you did good. Sorry about that bit at the start.” Rainbow shrugged and reached a hand down to prod Twilight’s bare stomach. “How’d you feel, wearing that?”
Twilight blushed again, but didn’t cover her stomach. “Exposed, at first. I’ve never worn anything but a one-piece before.” She brushed away the prodding hand after a moment. “But you were right. I would have been too hot wearing the sweater and jeans.”
Rainbow arched an eyebrow, and smirked. “Just think about Flash seeing you like this.”
“That jerk?” Twilight rolled her eyes and prodded Rainbow’s belly in return. “Really?”
Rarity sighed loudly. “Rainbow, are you ever going to grow up?”
“Grow up? Psh.” She prodded Twilight’s belly again, adding a tickle. “Never!”
Twilight squirmed away, laughing and squealing, and retaliated by tickling under Rainbow’s arms.
“Whoa! H-hey!” Rainbow squealed and rolled away, laughing. “Oh, it’s on, now!”
“You’ll have to catch me!” Twilight leapt up and dashed off down the beach, Rainbow a few steps behind, shouting and laughing by turns.
As she ran, laughing, the spark in Twilight’s heart glowed brighter.
I’m having fun.
Lunch, a collection of sandwiches and chips along with a pair of sodas, lay settled in Twilight’s stomach, and the sun was still high, though covered in a fluffy blanket of clouds drooping down and threatening to bring rain later. A cool breeze fluttered the net into a drowsy rustle, and the ocean waves frothed and sighed all along the beach.
On the towel next to her, Fluttershy and Rarity were slowly building a pair of bracelets, using thin jeweler’s wire from Fluttershy’s crafts kit to hold the shells iridescent side out.
Rarity kept up an idle stream of chatter that ebbed and flowed like the waves. “…and then Sunset called Adagio, of all people, a couple weeks ago. It was before we started to plan our trip, so…” Her fingers never stopped moving, twisting and braiding pliable metal into place and through the braided twine of the bracelet. “I don’t really understand why she wanted to spend Spring Break with them instead of us. I mean, it’s not like she owes them anything.” She paused. “Not that she owes us anything, either.”
“She doesn’t,” Twilight said, rolling over to face Rarity. “But—” She shook her head. “It would have been nice to get to know her without worrying about school or other people.”
“It would have been,” Rarity said. A moment later, she plucked up seven shells, one from each of a pile of similar colored shells. “Why don’t you join us and make a bracelet for her?” She held out the handful of shells and waited.
“Oh!” Why didn’t I think of that? “I think she would like that.” Twilight sat up, stretched, and scooted over to sit half-on the large towel. “So…”
“So, you take these shells,” Rarity said, dropping the seven shells with holes already bored through the hinges. “And a bit of wire, and twist, like so,” Rarity continued on, and demonstrated on the bracelet she was working on as she spoke.
Twilight spent a moment watching, then tried to follow suit with her own. She poked the wire through the twisted twine, then through the hole already bored through the shell. The rest of it, whatever Rarity had done to secure the shell to the braided twine, didn’t match. The shell, which should have lain flat, stuck out at an angle and would dig into the wrist.
“Um.”
“You’ve got the wiry twisted backwards,” Pinkie said, plopping onto the towel beside her. She reached out and took the start of the bracelet, deftly untwisting the jeweler’s wire. “It goes like this.”
Twilight watched as Pinkie untwisted the wire, threading it through the hole, then back through the braid and finally wrapped it twice around the flared end of the shell. “So, it holds itself in place.” She flicked the shell once, and it didn’t do anything more than settle back in place.
“Yep!” Pinkie dangled the bracelet in the air and fell back to lay down on the towel. “We made your bracelet already. Who’s this for?”
Twilight plucked it from her fingers gently. “For Sunset, since she couldn’t be here.” She nodded to Rarity, smiled, and started stringing up the red shell. Thoughts of what she knew about Sunset wove around her mind while she wove the silver wire around the shell.
A brief bit of conversation between Rainbow Dash and Rarity, back in Sugar Cube Corner almost a month and a half ago, came to her.
“Yeah, he used to date Sunset Shimmer, but…”
Rarity nodded. “And then he latched onto other Twilight when she appeared.”
“Why didn’t Sunset get back with Flash Sentry?”
Rarity’s head jerked up. “Why would you ask that?” She swept a hand at the beach. “We’re here to help you forget about that crass oaf.” A moment later, she seemed to realize what she’d said and looked away. “What he said to you…”
“Was a lie,” Twilight finished, reaching out to touch Rarity’s shoulder. “I know that, now.”
“Good!” Pinkie slapped her on the back. “We always knew it was.”
Twilight let the hot water rush over her, then shut it off, wishing she could have let it wash away more things than just the grime from the day's long activity. Things like a memory she had thought was pushed away swirled around her mind, taunting her in a stranger's voice.
As water gurgled and dripped down the drain, silent calm came back to her mind, and she thought it had left. But, as the rush of water faded to a dribble, the voice returned.
"You think you're so special. You're not, Twilight Sparkle. You've got her name, her face, her hair, but you're not Twilight Sparkle." Flash Sentry prodded her shoulder. "You're just a fraud."
His sneer grew vile in her memory, and she reached for the water, then stopped herself. Don't hog the water. She stopped, patting the plastic cap covering the braid coiled around her head, and leaned against the wall of the shower stall, eyes unfocused.
"You're just a fake. I can't believe I ever thought you could be her." Flash shoved her aside. "Come on, guys, let's leave this loser to her loser band." His eyes flashed green as they swept over her again. "Go back to your school, poser. You'll do less damage there."
Twilight gritted her teeth against the raw, jagged pain in her heart. She'd given up her place in the band that afternoon, foisting the responsibility off on Sunset Shimmer. She'd bought what he had told her, taken it into her heart and... And what?
She turned and pressed her back against the wall, savoring the comforting support of the smooth soapstone tiles. The steam of three showers in succession before her had heated the wall until it was pleasant enough, even if it wasn’t as nice as the hot water. She closed her eyes as the heat from the steam of her own few minutes slowly cooled, and let her thoughts become more ordered. Or at least less panicked.
What he’d said had felt true. When she had studied her friends in secret, she had seen a glimmer of what he’d said. Even then she had known it was fading, but at that moment, it had felt like he was right.
But he wasn't right.
Was he?
Fluttershy's hand on hers, Rarity's fingers whispering through her hair, and Rainbow standing at her side, victorious, swept through her again. He was right about one thing. I'm not the Twilight he was infatuated with. But I'm still me. She touched the braid under the shower cap, and smiled.
She picked up the bottle of soap and the pouf, and set about scrubbing away the worst of the grit. When she was done, her scalp itched slightly from the heat, reminding her that there was probably more than a little sand tucked into her hair. Sighing, she took off the shower cap and undid her braid. Maybe Rarity can teach me how to do it myself.
Flash's voice came back to her only once more, sounding contrite after the final performance, along with her friend's reply.
"Hey, uh…” The pause was like a slap in the face. “Twilight."
She flinched away, ducking behind Sunset Shimmer. She couldn’t face him, not after what he’d said… after what she’d heard from others.
"I heard what you said, Flash Sentry," Rarity said, voice harsh as she held out an arm to bar his way. "Leave her alone. She's not ready to talk to you yet." Her voice softened to a dangerous whisper as Sunset cooed to Twilight and led her away. "I know what you said was not meant to be said, but..." Rarity leaned closer to Flash, her voice dipping again.
What Twilight heard next was not meant for her to hear, but she had.
"I know the words did not come from the spell. Nor did what you said to Sunset."
She'd heard Flash protest, but anything else Rarity hissed at him was lost in the growing cheers and tumult as the rest of the band left the stage.
Twilight shuddered, the words were still seared into her memory, but they no longer held the pain they once had. Flash really did think that about me. She turned the water on again, letting the noise of the rushing water wash the memory, and the day's grit, from her head. But not my friends.
And not me. Not anymore.
Twilight plucked at the soft white, silk top sitting on the counter whose only mark was the triplet of diamonds emblazoned on the breast, then glanced at her own purple striped one-piece pajamas. Rainbow had called them ‘granny jammies’ the first night, earning her a slap upside the head from Applejack.
As uncouthly as Rainbow had described Rarity’s proportions, she had been right. Rarity was more generously endowed than Twilight was, and the top would sit comfortably, and as modestly, as Rarity could have enjoyed.
“And modesty is important,” Twilight murmured, looking up at herself in the mirror. Rarity had even given her a sports bra of her own, though the white top was loose enough to feel decadently immodest. Or maybe that was the material lining the interior. It wasn’t silk, but it felt sinful against her skin.
Her hand drifted to brush over her own pajamas, the soft cotton feeling comfortingly familiar under her fingers. Then she pushed it gently away and unfolded the satin white top Rarity had given her before her shower.
“It would be rude to turn down her generosity.”
A few minutes later, after binding her still faintly damp hair into a ponytail, Twilight pulled the door open, and stepped out to rejoin the company of her friends.
Laughter and quiet conversation drifted up the stairwell and through the upper hall. Rarity’s voice stood out above the quieter murmurings of Rainbow Dash and Applejack.
“…and then Sunset showed us where she’d been living all that time. It never really occurred to me until she did that she must have found someplace to live.”
“It makes it even more curious why she picked on me the most,” Fluttershy said quietly. “I mean, if she was living on a farm, helping that old couple take care of their animals…”
Twilight had known, peripherally, that Sunset Shimmer had to have found some kind of living arrangements after having come to their world. That she had lived on a farm hadn’t even occurred to Twilight. She stopped at the top of the stairs, just out of sight, and listened.
“It also makes sense why she didn’t go directly after Applejack all that often,” Rarity added quietly. “Still… she must have played two-face for a long time.”
“Oh, I don’t know… she must have had some goodness in her.”
Rarity made a noncommittal noise, and the conversation died.
I wonder what kind of animals she took care of. Were they horses? Ponies? Twilight tried to imagine Sunset letting a horse eat an apple out of her hand. It wasn’t all that hard, actually.
“Who’s up next for a shower?” Twilight asked as she stepped around the corner and started down the stairs.
“Me!” Rainbow shouted, leaping up from her place by Applejack and dashed for the stairs. “Sure hope ya left some hot water!”
“I used as little as I—”
“Good!” Rainbow’s hand slapped Twilight’s rear on her way up the stairs. “Nice bottoms.”
“Eep!”
“Rainbow Dash!” Rarity called up after her. Her attention shifted to Twilight, and a small smile twitched her lips as the bathroom door slammed shut. “I don’t know what has gotten into her.”
“S’moresgasbords,” Pinkie said, rolling her eyes as she slapped her forehead. “Duh.”
“Honestly…” Rarity shook her head, eyes flicking back to Twilight. She paused a moment, one hand fluffing her own hair, then shrugged and smiled again. “Did you have a nice shower?”
“Yes,” Twilight said as she descended the last few stairs, one hand to her posterior. “It was refreshing. Though…” Her hand reached up to touch the loose ponytail. “I had to undo the braid to get all the sand out.”
“Quite alright, dear! It is my pleasure to help you again. Same style? I think you’d look delightful in a twin braid, if you don’t mind my saying so.”
“Actually,” Twilight said, lowering her hand again, “I’d like to learn how to do it myself. Can you teach me?”
“But of course!” Rarity twirled a lock of her hair, lips pursed. “It’s easiest to learn if you do it for someone else.” Her eyes shifted to Applejack.
“Sorry, Rares. I like my hair the way it is.” She lifted her stetson, then settled it back down. She poked again at the fire, then settled the brass-framed glass spark-shield in place. “Hat don’t fit right if my hair isn’t loose.”
Fluttershy peeked up from the work she was doing on another bracelet and brushed back a lock of hair from her eyes. “Um.” Her fingers plucked at the long trail of her hair, stopping just shy of where she’d confided in Twilight that she had once worn extensions after an incident with gum forced her to chop out a large tangle of it.
Twilight saw Pinkie’s eyes flick back and forth between Fluttershy and Rarity, then settle on her for just an instant as a smile grew and Twilight could almost see the idea bubble up as she took a deep breath.
“Pinkie, dear, I’m afraid your hair is, and no offense meant, but your hair is a little like a master’s level class in braiding.” Rarity shook her head as she reached out to pat Fluttershy’s hand gently, and whispered something Twilight didn’t hear, but whatever it was settled Fluttershy’s not-quite-frown into a smile.
“It’s okay, really. I’m—”
“Don’t you worry, Fluttershy. Your hair is quite beautiful as it is,” Rarity said in a quiet tone as she patted the other girl’s hand. “I—”
“It’s okay, Rarity,” Twilight said quickly. “I think I’d like to try, if Pinkie’s still—”
“What kind of question is that?” Pinkie shook her head, sighed, and flipped her hair back with a huge grin. “It’s like you don’t even know me at all.”
“Well, if you’re sure.” Rarity gave Pinkie’s tangle of mane a glance, then back at Twilight, and held up a mostly finished shell wrist-band. “As soon as I get this one finished, we’ll get started.”
“Take yer time,” Applejack said, pointing at the fire just starting to chew on the fresh logs. “It’ll take this little beastie a while to come up and settle down for makin’ s’mores.”
“Why?” The fire’s orange flame seemed perfectly serviceable for cooking. “I’ve done a little reading on campfire cooking, and I thought it was best to get the food in early, to let it—”
“Food, sugarcube. This ain’t ‘food’ like you’re thinkin’. This is s’mores.” She rolled her eyes at Pinkie’s shocked gasp. “Gasbords.”
“I’ve only had s’mores once,” Twilight said, inching closer to the fire with her arms folded over the hem of the white blouse. “When I was backyard camping with Shining Armor. He did all the work.”
“Oh.” Rarity’s eyes drifted back to the bracelet she was teasing into perfection. “Hmm.”
Twilight struggled to find something to say, her hand drifting back up to touch her still damp hair, but the words she wanted to say, to describe the fun of the night she’d spent with Shining Armor and Cadance in the big tent in the backyard, stayed locked away in the recesses of her mind.
“It was…” she started, then paused another moment, searching for the right word. “Fun.”
Pinkie leaned her head gently against Twilight’s knee. “Good. Fun is good.”
Twilight’s hand moved of its own accord to brush a lock of pink hair from Pinkie’s forehead, and she smiled at the warmth under her fingertips. She let the feeling of being close cling to her, and twined her fingers through Pinkie’s hair in slow strokes, combing back the thick, tangled curls into something almost straight.
Not that they stayed straight. As soon as her fingers left, the curls bounced back into a glorious snarl again.
“Mom and dad were away for the weekend,” she said, startling herself. “Um.”
Pinkie beamed a smile up at her, and snuggled in closer against Twilight’s leg.
Twilight stared down at the other girl, unaccountably reminded of a cat snuggling in. She was surprised when Pinkie didn’t start purring. That’s silly! She’s not a cat. “So, um… with them away, they hired Cadance, my babysitter, to come watch over me.” Heat suffused her cheeks, but she forged on. “She and Shiny were kinda dating at the time, not that mom and dad knew—but I think mom at least suspected. Cady brought marshmallows and graham crackers, and Shiny had stashed away some chocolate bars.”
“Sounds like a good night,” Rarity said quietly.
Twilight swept her gaze to each of her friends in turn, and saw all eyes on her. Applejack was leaning against the other couch, arms crossed on the back cushion, watching her with an encouraging smile. Rarity and Fluttershy had stopped working on their bracelets to listen.
They’re your friends. Twilight nodded. “Shiny had just started field survival week at his JROTC club. He dragged out a big tent from the attic… well, big for me at the time. I was, I think, six?” Twilight cocked her head to the side. Cadance was still coming by regularly… and Shining had just asked her on their third date? I think. Cadance said something like that. “Yes. So… Cady and I set up the tent while Shiny…” She trailed off again as she realized she was using the baby names she’d given them. “Erm… Shining Armor, Shiny.” She blushed, shaking her head.
Rarity frowned down at her bracelet, one shell still sticking up oddly from the ordered array, and set it down carefully. She stood after another moment and crossed the room to stand next to Applejack. “Go on, dear.”
If she hadn’t been watching, Twilight wouldn’t have seen Applejack shiver as Rarity settled a hand on her back. Are they… But that was silly. They’ve both done as much for me as a friend. One glance at her hand buried in Pinkie’s hair told her she was still doing as much for a friend. It was a comfort, and it was getting a little colder, despite the fire.
“O-okay.” Twilight stroked her fingers through Pinkie’s hair slowly, letting the task of trying, and failing, to straighten it push the worry about embarrassing herself out of her mind. “S-Shiny set up the fire. Sort of.” She giggled, curling her fingers deeper into Pinkie’s hair. “He spent an hour digging out a small fire-pit in the middle of the backyard, then set out stones from dad’s rock garden all around it, and then kept on consulting his JROTC Field Guide while he set out sticks and pieces of chopped wood in it.
“Cady had to stop him and point out he was building a signal fire, not a campfire. ‘If you want to have your mom and dad know we built a fire, I think signalling the fire department is a great idea,’ she said.” Twilight shook her head as the smile grew, her fingers finding Pinkie’s ear and scratched behind it as she would for a cat.
Pinkie pushed her chin more firmly against Twilight’s leg, making a sound almost like a purr.
“Cady brought her filly scout trail guide out and gave it to him. I’ve never seen him blush so much as he set about doing what it said, but he did it. By then, Cady and I were done with the tent, and it was getting colder.”
“Ooh. Cold night, with a campfire, and s’mores?” Pinkie pressed her head up into Twilight’s hand again. Her eyes flicked to the fireplace, and she flashed a broad smile. “Sounds like fun.”
“Oh yes.” Twilight watched the fire as she brushed her hand through Pinkie’s hair. Burning wood nestled in the iron cradle, red and gold chewing vigorously at blackening wood. She watched as a splinter curled up and dropped off as a red spiral. Seconds—or minutes—later, she jumped as one of the logs made a whining hiss and popped loudly. The logs settled more firmly into the cradle with a furious crackle of sparks pelting the glass shield.
She pulled herself out of the up to see most everyone was watching the fire, too. Pinkie’s eyes were closed, and Twilight could have sworn she was… but she couldn’t be.
Twilight hesitated, fingers curled in Pinkie’s hair, then slid her hand down through the wild tangle to rest against the nape of Pinkie’s neck. She is purring. Sort of. It was more of a growl than a purr, but that was okay. It was the thought that counted.
“It wasn’t that different from this, I guess. Colder, and without a cat on my lap.” She smiled down at Pinkie, brushing a finger down the purring girl’s nose, then jerked it back when Pinkie tried to bite it.
“Hey! No biting.” She really goes all out. She resisted the urge, barely, to bap Pinkie on the nose like she had to with Spike when he got it into his head to chew on her shoes. “So… it felt good to have the right book for the job. I helped him out a little with the fire, too. Did you know that the best angle for kindling to stand is at an even sixty degrees relative to the ground?”
Every head shook slightly.
“Oh. Well, it is. Shiny said we didn’t need my protractor, but Cady came down on my side, and we made sure the base of that cone was sixty degrees all around. Within a tolerance of four degrees in either direction. I argued for two, but Cadance and Shining didn’t, and Cady asked me to measure the angles of the bends in the different twigs from top to bottom. The few that I thought were straight enough weren’t.” She sighed.
“I think, looking back, that Shiny was, well, not exactly upset, but he certainly didn’t enjoy moving the sticks around as much as we did.” She giggled again. “But Cady took a picture of that stack of kindling, and I still have it on the wall in my room.”
Applejack shared another look with Rarity. “Were you ever a filly scout?”
“Me? Goodness, no. I mean, I tried for a couple months, after Cady suggested it, but I never could seem to get into it. Mom let me focus on my schoolwork instead.” She very carefully avoided saying the word ‘quit.’ Because I didn’t quit. I chose to refocus my priorities on school instead of making macaroni drawings. “Shiny… thought I should have stayed.” She looked between them, then down at Pinkie. “Were any of you filly scouts?”
“I was,” Applejack said, nodding. “Rarity…”
“I got my fashion awareness patch.”
“There ain’t no such thing.”
“Fine. I made my fashion awareness patch. All that… wilderness, and camping. But Sweetie Belle seems to enjoy it, and I’m happy for her.”
Why do they call it ‘filly scouts’? Twilight shook the stray thought out of her head. “Maybe if Cady had been my scout leader…”
“And your folks?” Applejack asked.
“They wanted me to be happy. Just like Cadance. She arranged more sleepovers with my folks after I stopped going to scout meetings, and I don’t think she asked to be paid for most of them.” I should ask her. Twilight turned her attention to the ceiling—beyond it—and could almost see the gleaming stars twinkling in the cool night air. She almost felt Cadance’s presence with her as she stared at the constellations in her mind’s eye, and smiled as remembered excitement filled her again. She smiled dreamily, eyes closed, as she savored the moment. “It was much better than being a filly scout.”
“I just couldn’t make friends there, and the things they had us do were so… so…” She waved her free hand, and shrugged. “I wanted to do all the astronomy things on camping out nights, and the other girls just wanted to talk about how icky boys were or tell each other ghost stories. I wandered far from the fire to gaze up at the stars.”
The endless nights spent watching the stars through her telescope, tracking the motion of the heavenly bodies, charting them in her notebooks, and searching for… She shied away from that thought, turning her attention back to the fire until Pinkie patted her calf.
“Were ya looking for something? Like ponies and dragons and princesses, oh my?”
Twilight couldn’t help it; she laughed, but clamped it down to a giggle quickly. “Something like that.”
“What were you looking for?” Rarity asked quietly.
“Magic.” It just came out, buoyed by laughter. For a moment, she stared straight ahead, shock thrumming through her, then she slapped a hand over her mouth while her eyes darted from friend to friend, not really seeing them.
“That’s adorable, Twilight!” Her scout leader, Mrs. Butterscotch, patted her head gently when Twilight had admitted it with as much dignity as she could muster. “Why are you looking to the stars for magic?” She continued, her voice holding the same tone normally reserved for puppies, and children with silly but cute ideas.
Her eyes snapped shut, unable to bear seeing that in the eyes of her friends.
Then Pinkie bit her on the leg.
“Ow!” It didn’t really hurt, but the surprise made up for the absence. “What was that for?”
“Biting friends is only for when other things bite them.”
“And you got your, your…” Rarity’s strangled voice from the other side of the room cut off suddenly in a sound like a tea kettle on the verge of boiling over.
Surprised, Twilight looked down to see a dark wet spot on the white satin covering her knee. “I’m sorry, I know she didn’t—” She swallowed. “I mean, it’ll clean out, right?”
Rarity deflated as Twilight looked back up. Applejack stood at Rarity’s side, hand patting her on the shoulder. “Oh, it doesn’t matter. I suppose…” She sighed, relaxing again as the hand on her shoulder settled and kneaded slowly. “Thank you, Applejack.”
“Welcome. At least she ain’t had her s’moregasbord yet. Now that’d make a mess.”
Rarity stiffened again, but kept her mouth shut.
Pinkie pushed her nose against Twilight’s knee. “You were looking for magic?”
She found curiosity in Pinkie’s eyes, looking up at her. Twilight brushed her fingers through Pinkie’s hair, and she could have sworn she heard a purr as she did so. Applejack and Rarity were watching her carefully. From Fluttershy, sharing a brief look with her, she saw concern but, again, no disparagement.
“I—”
“Darling—”
“Sugarcube—”
Rarity and Applejack glanced at each other, then Twilight after all three of them interrupted each other. Applejack tipped her hat back with a bright smile. Twilight stayed silent.
“Twilight,” Rarity said, accepting Applejack’s concession with a slight tip of her head, “magic is real. True, it is something that every little girl, and boy, wants to be real at some point, and that you knew long before we even suspected… well we didn’t really know it was until—” She shrugged, glancing at Applejack, Fluttershy, and Pinkie in turn. “Well, until we had our faces rubbed in it.”
A chorus of assent came bubbling up from all of the girls sitting around her, and Twilight felt that spark in her heart leaping like an ember from the fire. “I never did really let go. I found you all because I was still searching for it, even if I felt like I had to keep it secret.” She paused, taking a deep breath, and made herself say it: “I was still searching for magic.”
None of the disappointment or condescending looks she’d seen in the eyes of the few people she tried to share her deepest secret with. Moondancer’s scoffing laugh, Lyra’s barely hidden titter... that was another world, and these friends would never scoff at her. Not for believing in magic.
She looked at each of them in turn, her smile growing as relief swam up through the worry, bringing tears to blur their faces.
“Hey now,” Pinkie said from her knee, twisting around to rest her chin on Twilight’s thigh. “No crying for the victor. Unless they’re tears of...” she trailed off and reached up to brush away a tear from Twilight’s cheek, then stuck the finger, and the tear, in her mouth. “Nevermind. Cry all you want. Happy tears are okay.”
“Pinkie,” Applejack said slowly, leaning against the back of the other couch, palms rubbing slowly at her forehead, “how in the world can you tell they’re happy tears?”
“Duh. She’s smiling.” Pinkie prodded Twilight’s cheek. “You can’t smile while you’re sad.” She cocked her head. “Unless you’re crazy, I suppose. Or mad. Or something not happy.”
“I am happy,” Twilight said, shaking her head and drawing Pinkie’s hand down from the corner of her mouth. She clasped the hand in both of hers, then pressed her cheek to the warm palm. “I’m so happy that I found all of you.”
“Shoot,” Applejack said with a chuckle. “So are we.”
“Darn right—” Rarity started to say more, but she was cut off by a high pitched scream from the bathroom, followed by a thump, some muffled cursing, and then the door to the bathroom wrenching open with a thud-thump.
The thumping rush of feet heralded a very wet Rainbow Dash stuck her head around the corner and peered down at all of them, locking her eyes on Rarity after a moment.
“Rarity, I thought you said there would be plenty of hot water!”
Rarity didn’t skip a beat. “Remember what else I said! I said ‘as long as you use it sparingly!’ And I heard the shower running for the last twenty minutes!”
Rainbow stepped out around the corner, without even a towel or a single sud anywhere, and jabbed a finger at Rarity. "Twenty minutes? We've spent more than twenty minutes in the shower just today. It's only Wednesday, what did you expect to happen tomorrow?"
Twilight covered her eyes with a hand, heat rising up her cheeks, and tore her eyes away.
“I expected…” Rarity trailed off, her finger lifted in a return jab wilting as she stared up at Rainbow. “Oh. Oh, dear. Mommy and daddy must have not filled the tank.” The finger came back up after a moment. “That still doesn't change the fact that you're standing at the top of the stairs, bare for all of us to ogle! I don't care that you're used to the communal showers! Most of us aren't.”
Twilight risked a look up, and saw Rainbow standing at the top of the stairs, fists planted on her hips and a cocky smirk curling her lips. She couldn’t stop herself from looking. Rainbow’s clothes today didn’t hide much. The thought surprised her enough to jerk her eyes up to Rainbow’s face even as her own heated even more.
Rainbow wasn’t watching her, though. All of her attention was focused on Rarity’s furrow-browed countenance. “Heh. Ogling, eh?” She flipped her hair, still braided, and turned around with a sashay of her hips. “Fine, fine. I’ll get out of your delicate sensibilities.” She stopped, just before she disappeared around the edge of the wall. “You know I’m not gonna complain about cold showers, because I’m used to em. But what about you?” She winked at Rarity, wiggled her butt, and dashed back out of sight.
“That… that unrepentant…” Rarity's face was shading deeper red when Twilight tore her eyes away from the empty hallway, and the way her teeth ground audibly in the silence said it wasn't from embarrassment. After a long moment, Rarity took a deep breath and brought her hands up to her chin, then let it back out as she swept both hands back down in a smooth sweep from neck to knees.
“You okay, Rares?” Applejack asked, watching from where she leaned against the couch.
"Fine. Just… fine.” She took another deep breath, and let it out again. “She's not wrong, though," she said, her face still faintly pink. "Unless we get someone down here to top off the tank, it'll be cold showers for three more days."
Twilight shot a glance at Rarity, then back at the wall, her own cheeks still hot.
"Well," Applejack said after a moment. "This is one of those things we'll need to do if we wanna take over caring for the place." She reached out to tap the list she and Twilight had written earlier in the day, then turned her attention to Rarity. “You got someplace that normally does it?”
“My parents know,” Rarity said, hands still resting on her knees. “But we don’t have cell reception down here.”
Pinkie, still sitting with her chin on Twilight’s thigh, chirped and lifted her head. “You know what this calls for?”
Groans came from everyone but Twilight.
“What?”
“Road trip!”
Later, after Rainbow Dash had come back down, fully clothed once more, she and Twilight sat together on the couch while Pinkie and Applejack assembled the spoils of victory.
“Just lightly browned,” Applejack said, holding the trio of marshmallows just away from the low, crackling fire. “Don’t wanna get em too crusty on the outside, or they won’t stick proper.”
Pinkie turned the caramel-cinnamon-sugar glazed apple slices over and over slowly in their tub, coating and re-coating them in ooey-gooey deliciousness. “Black crusties are bad for s’moresgasbords,” she said with a short nod.
The smell of roasting marshmallows shortly filled the room with a sugared, smoky scent that twined through Twilight’s nose and set her stomach to growling. The sight of the apple slices was doing a number on her ability to stop drooling, too, as was the final garnishment of shaved, candied orange peels.
“So…” Twilight said after a moment of staring at the bowls where graham crackers and chocolate bars sat, waiting for their final toppings. “I thought they were s’mores… like we would eat them like s’mores.”
Rainbow rolled her eyes, snorted, and yawned as she stretched, flopping an arm across Twilight’s shoulders. “Nah. Unless you want to take another shower. Gooey doesn’t even begin to describe how messy these things are. but take it from me… there’s nothing better to savor on the field of victory.”
“Darn tootin’,” Applejack said with a grin that barred her teeth for just a moment. “Ooey, gooey, and darn good eatin’.”
“For junk food,” Rarity murmured from across the small coffee table, in a tone of voice not meant to be quiet.
“Junk food, skunk food.” Rainbow rolled her eyes and slapped Twilight’s shoulder. “You’re just jealous we get the first ones.”
“Skunk food?” Twilight raised an eyebrow.
Rarity raised her voice to cut through Rainbow’s. “Alliteration isn’t Rainbow’s strong suit.”
“Heh.” Rainbow slumped deeper into the plush couch cushions lining the back of the couch, pulling Twilight back with her, and raised an eyebrow. “You’re jealous. Admit it. You want—”
“I am not jealous.” Rarity huffed, and turned partially away, though Twilight could still see the faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
“Psh. Whatever.”
They’re teasing each other? Twilight glanced between Rainbow’s smug smile and Rarity’s halfway hidden one that she was doing her best to make appear like a scowl. The twinkle of her eyes and the way the downturned corners of her lips kept twitching upwards gave it away. Do friends do that with each other?
A moment later, Twilight laughed and shook her head. Obviously. “I’ll share some of mine with you, Rarity. If you want a taste of the first, that is.”
“No, no, that’s quite alright. I think the wait will make it even more savory than getting the first. And,” Rarity said, her eyes locked on Rainbow’s, “I’ll still have some left even after you’ve finished wolfing yours down.”
‘Yeah, yeah.” Rainbow snorted, and she yawned again, leaning her head onto Twilight’s shoulder. “Stupid cold showers…”
“I thought you didn’t mind cold showers,” Twilight whispered back as she tipped her head to rest her cheek into Rainbows still damp hair.
“I don’t,” Rainbow shrugged slightly and settled more deeply into the luxuriant cushion, closer to Twilight. “‘Sides, warm now.”
Resisting the urge to kiss the rainbow hued hair brushing her cheek, Twilight let out a quiet sigh and worked at easing her arm up behind Rainbow, trying not to think of what it felt like to hold the other girl closer. It was to relieve some of the tension from her shoulder long before it could fall asleep. That made sense. No prickling for me in the morning. The only response she got to the slow creep and twist of her arm was a succession of soft grunts as Rainbow slumped slowly against her, each one quieter and later in coming than the last.
Awkward as the position felt to Twilight, it wasn’t long before Rainbow’s breathing tapered off into the steady, slow rhythm of sleep. She watched as Pinkie and Applejack discussed the proper way to heat the apple slices, which order to put it all together in the bowl, and a host of other differences between their ideas on the best way to present and prepare the apparently mythical confection.
It began to fade as the soft buzz of Rainbow’s snore, quiet so far, thrummed against her shoulder, and her own eyes grew heavier and heavier.
She closed them for just a second, resting her cheek against Rainbow’s head and let herself relax back into the cushion at last. Just a moment. Just until they figure out their differences.
A moment later, she jerked when a hand touching her knee lightly, and she opened her eyes to a blurry white shape. She blinked once, twice, and Rarity’s face greeted her, a smile halfway parting her lips.
“Shh.” Rarity’s eyes flicked briefly left and right, and Twilight saw past her to the other girls unfurling sleeping bags again. “Would you like some help getting to your bed?”
The nonsense question tugged fitfully at her attention. I’m already in bed. She was warm, and if not exactly comfortable, she wasn’t in her own bed, and that made plenty of sense. She blinked owlishly at Rarity again, her own mind half-heartedly trying to let her know the question really did make sense.
Twilight blinked twice more up at Rarity before an abruptly stifled clash of metal rattled from the kitchen, followed by a muffled ‘Whoopsie!’ startled a yelp out of her and drove away the sleep in her mind.
The warmth against her side shifted and groaned with a muttered, half-intelligible imprecation. She looked down.
Rainbow slumped against her side, cheek resting just below her collar-bone, and was curled up so her knees touched Twilight’s. One arm, laying across Twilight’s lap, tugged at her leg, as though trying to pull up a blanket. The other was tucked against her waist.
Vaguely, she realized that she should be embarrassed, but the remnants of hazy sleep covering her thoughts turned it into satisfaction. The body against hers really was nice against the chill starting to seep into the spacious room. And Rainbow’s a friend. It’s okay with friends. Right?
The gentle hand on her knee and the smile Rarity gave her said it was. Beyond, she saw Fluttershy with her hands pressed to her mouth, failing to hide the smile blooming behind them.
Twilight gave Rarity a small shake of her head and curled her arm more tightly around Rainbow’s shoulders. “I-I think—” she cut herself off as Rainbow grumbled again and pulled Twilight closer. Mutely, she shook her head again.
“Okay.” The smile Rarity gave her grew slightly as she tucked a blanket up over Twilight and Rainbow. She’d been holding it behind her, as though she had known what the answer was going to be. “Sleep well.”
Vaguely, she heard the other girls whispering as her own eyes fell closed, and the smell of roasting marshmallows and sizzling hot cinnamon apples filled her nose with a warm delight she could almost taste.
Or maybe it was a dream.
“That’s so adorable,” a voice whispered. Fluttershy, she thought.
“Take a picture!” another one said. Pinkie?
Then she was gone, the warmth resting against her side dragging her down into a deep sleep.
The smell of hot coffee teased away the dreams of… what they were faded as the smell invaded Twilight’s senses. She let it, laying still as the aroma grew stronger, and tried to grope after the fading images drifting around in her mind. Nothing stood out as especially interesting. Friends were there, as they often were of late. Rainbow Dash appeared more often, her smile having a strange quality to it.
But the more she groped after the images, the faster they vanished. The smell of coffee grew stronger, and she became aware of other sounds. Rainbow Dash’s faint buzzing snore, sounding closer than usual, nearly hid the sound of slippered feet whispering on stone.
What time is it? Whatever time it was, the sun hadn't yet risen above the side of the cliff wall to burn away the fog outside.
She tried to reach for her phone on the table between the two couches, but something lay atop her arm, trapping it against her stomach, too heavy to move. More, something heavy lay across her chest, and something warm to the point of being uncomfortably hot tucked itself under her chin and against the side of her throat. It smelled faintly of sweat and sand, though it was fading under coffee’s siren scent.
Memory came back. Rainbow Dash slumped against her, one arm draped across her lap. Another flash of Rainbow half-waking to help her lay down before she drifted off again with another person resting on her. It hadn’t scared her to wake up with another girl laying atop her—or to fall asleep with one resting a cheek on her shoulder. Should it have? For that matter, it should have been more uncomfortable.
Well, it’s not my bed, and she’s not a blanket. “Rainbow Dash,” Twilight whispered, so quiet she wasn’t sure if anyone could hear it.
Rainbow didn’t. Her breathing stayed the same, slow rhythm against her neck, and the arm thrown carelessly over Twilight’s other shoulder twitched once, fingers curling and relaxing next to Twilight’s cheek. The same twitch pushed Rainbow’s other elbow into Twilight’s side.
That’s more what I expected. Twilight tried pushing the elbow away, but her right arm didn’t want to move, and a sudden wash of prickles rushed up from her fingers as she tried. Instead, she eased down into the cushion, letting Rainbow’s weight settle a little more comfortably atop her, even though the other girl’s elbow was still wedged against her side.
The couch creaked underneath her back. A spring popped, vibrating against Twilight’s back with a hollow thrum, but she was able to winnow her arm from under Rainbow’s belly without waking the other girl.
At least her neck wasn’t worked into a knot from sleeping upright. That’s no small thing.
Into the silence, a chair scraped against stone briefly, then went quiet, followed by a thunk. Another chair creaked briefly.
“Should we wake em?” The rough edge to the whisper took away most of the identifiable country lilt, but Twilight was almost certain it was Applejack's voice.
“No,” said a softer whisper. Rarity, she thought. “Though… it would be amusing to see their reaction. They were not quite so intimately entangled when they fell asleep.”
“Shoot,” Applejack said, more loudly. “That’d just beat all, I bet. Worth endurin’ her boastin’ just to see her blush.”
“I’m not sure she would,” Rarity said in the same not-quite-whispering tone. “Remember how she flashed all of us without a hint of shame?”
“Yeah, but that’s just Rainbow bein’ Rainbow.” Applejack’s voice held a resigned note, though an almost-chuckle followed. “She might not care about what we think, but did you see Twilight’s face? I thought she was gonna roast marshmallows from the heat of that blush. Girl’s cute as a button with her face like that.”
Rarity’s giggle rose sharply, then cut off with a cough. Silence fell again.
Twilight stayed still, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks again as she stroked her hand down slowly over the Rainbow’s shoulder. She could almost feel Rarity and Applejack listening, waiting to see if they’d woken her. I should let them know I’m up.
A long minute passed. Rainbow shifted minutely atop her, snoring growing deeper, buzzing against her neck. She could feel the dampness of Rainbow’s lips pressed to the base of her neck. She didn’t move.
Liquid sloshed with a hollow chime in the steel pot. “Coffee?”
“Please.” Rarity sighed, and the sound of pouring coffee came for a few seconds as the powerful smell rose into the chill morning again. “Do you think… she and Twilight?”
Silence fell again, near total this time. Pinkie Pie gurgled in her sleep, snorted, and flopped over in her sleeping bag. Fluttershy was still silent and still, and Twilight couldn’t tell if she was awake or not.
The dim ceiling overhead held a deeper darkness than the slowly lightening fog she could see pressed up against the wall-to-wall window leading out onto the beach. The quiet held as she quested about in the dark for an answer, tracing the dark wood trusses back and forth. She couldn’t see any more answers to Rarity’s question in the shadowed ceiling than had come to her at the moment she’d heard it.
Are we… something? Am I? Laying there with Rainbow atop her, it almost seemed that they must. Everything she had seen of… love. She swallowed. Is it? I don’t feel any different. Isn’t there supposed to be some feeling that tells me?
Maybe there was, and maybe there wasn’t. My friends. She felt something when she was with all or any of them. You’ve had other friends, Twilight.
But she knew these girls, and she had felt their regard for her, and each other, through magic. She could still feel that connection in her heart, sometimes stronger, and sometimes weaker, but always there like a spark waiting to catch. It is love. I do love them. All of them.
But that wasn’t, and had never been the question, she realized. Do I love this one differently? How she was going to tell the difference escaped her. She sighed, closing her eyes, meaning to go to sleep.
Applejack’s quiet voice kept her listening. “I dunno. Could be as much as any of us, I s’pose. Y’all are closer to me than any other friends I’ve ever had.” The sound of a mug sliding over the rough surface of the table rose briefly. “I know what you mean, though. Twi’s never struck me as that type, but she’s not even really looked at boys, either. I ain’t even sure she knows. Rainbow, on the other hand…”
Twilight could almost see Applejack shrug as she sipped at her coffee.
“Could be, I suppose. I've never really thought to ask. It’d be rude, really, and she might get the wrong idea.” Applejack sipped at her coffee again, almost slurping it. "Besides, if she is, Rainbow's never really been the subtle type. I doubt she would’ve kept quiet."
"A bull in a china shop would be less subtle," Rarity said with a sniff. "I don’t know, though. People act different when they’re in love."
They do? Twilight pulled her hand away from Rainbow’s neck, and stared at it. Am I acting different? Holding hands with Fluttershy, letting Rarity braid her hair, telling a story with Pinkie Pie purring on her thigh… falling asleep with Rainbow Dash. Oh. Right. Except those had all been things done with friends. Good friends, even the best friends she'd ever known. I do love them.
She laid the hand down on Rainbow's neck again, fingers brushing over the other's rainbow hair, around an ear, to rest on a cheek.
Rainbow shifted in her sleep again, pressing nose and elbow more firmly into Twilight’s side.
I do love them. But do I love her?
The quiet held still, disturbed by the clink of a spoon on glass. Rarity—she always put enough creamer in her coffee, when she did not drink tea, to almost turn it white.
Do I? The question didn't seem to want to be answered. It skittered away from her attention as soon as she focused on it. Maybe she didn't want to answer it. Or I don't know. The thought came with a bitter tug in her stomach.
“Does it matter if they are… something? They are still our friends, and if they want to be more than friends, that doesn’t change anything about how I see them. Either separate or together.”
“Me neither.”
Rainbow shifted atop her, nose pressing more firmly into the side of her neck, and elbow pressing into her hip just a little more painfully even as that hand started scratching at Twilight's leg.
Sudden heat flamed in Twilight's cheeks, and she stifled a squeak as she realized the fingers were under her pajama bottoms. She jerked almost upright, but her right arm wouldn’t answer her, and Rainbow’s body was too well placed atop her to move much.
Rainbow grunted, eyes opening slowly.
Fingers prodded Twilight’s thigh under her pajamas, and a look of profound confusion grew on Rainbow’s face as those fingers prodded more and more frantically. Each prod and pinch drew a louder squeak from Twilight as she tried again and again to sit upright.
“Uh-oh. Sounds like trouble,” Applejack said, voice rich with amusement as a coffee mug thumped to the kitchen table.
Rainbow’s eyes grew wider and wider as Twilight saw realization break through the sleepy confusion clouding them.
"Get your hand out of my pants!" Realization of what she'd said followed close on the heels of the words leaving her mouth, and heat flooded her cheeks. “That’s my leg!”
“I-it’s not what you think!” Rainbow shouted, then leapt up—or tried to. The hand down Twilight's silk pajamas caught briefly, sending Rainbow into a lurch, and one leg tucked under Twilight's calf and into the crevice between pillowed back cushion and seat-cushion stuck for just a moment.
She fell, her legs still halfway twined with Twilight’s, and thumped to the ground on her back as Twilight, carried by her own attempts to get free, slid off after, her right arm just starting to remind her it was there with painful pinpricks that felt like someone had applied a Van der Graaff generator to her arm and cranked it up.
“Oof!” Twilight grunted as she landed atop Rainbow, just barely missing knocking the other girl out with a blow to the forehead. For a long moment, she lay atop Rainbow supported only by her left arm.
“Uh…” Rainbow stared up at her, a quivering smirk barely touching her lips. “Morning, Twi.”
"Um. Hi." She tried a smile, but it faltered as soon as she forced it. Her arm trembled, and her other ached where she held it curled to her side. Brambles crawled up her arm, itching and tingling as they went as blood rushed back in to wake deadened nerves.
“I was wonderin’ how that would end up,” Applejack said with a laugh as a chair scraped loudly over stone.
Rarity’s voice came as a strangled gasp, but muted laughter hid behind it, barely contained.
“Sorry,” Twilight said as she let herself slide the rest of the way down to lay atop Rainbow. Please don't take this the wrong way, Rainbow! Please! “M-my right arm’s asleep.”
“Oh.” Rainbow shifted, bringing a hand up to massage Twilight's bicep. “That's fine," she whispered. Suddenly, her head jerked, and her other arm shot up. “Don’t you dare say anything!”
Applejack’s voice came from above them, each word drawn out into an exaggerated drawl: “I ain’t sayin’ nothin’. Just admirin’ the situation. Though, I do gotta say one thing. That's quite a comfy situation ya got there.”
“Oh my." Fluttershy's quiet gasp, followed by a not quite laugh caught Twilight and Rainbow Dash's attention at the same time.
“It’s not what it looks like!” Rainbow shouted even as Twilight stammered out the same thing.
“Um.” Fluttershy’s cheeks grew redder and brighter against her pale skin, but she didn’t look away. “Sorry. I didn’t think…” She looked down at her hands, then shook her head. "Nevermind."
“I fell asleep against her,” Twilight said.
At the same time, Rainbow said: “I fell asleep too quickly.”
Pinkie’s giggle interrupted the both of them. “And we’ve got it all on camera!”
Rarity’s laughs, before a choking backdrop to the goings on, exploded briefly into an uncontrolled, undignified snort.
Twilight tried to push herself off, not caring if her right arm exploded into pieces as tingles continued to prickle painfully from shoulder to fingertips. Even with Rainbow massaging feeling back into her upper arm, her fingers still felt like they'd been sitting in ice water for an hour.
She didn't even manage to raise herself an inch from Rainbow before she was pulled back down, a strong arm wrapped around her back. "Rainbow, please, this is—" Embarassing?
“Don’t,” Rainbow whispered, “it’ll hurt more. Just relax until you've got feeling back in your arm, okay?” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “And don't worry. Just friends.”
Twilight stopped trying to push herself away, sighed, and laid her head on Rainbow’s shoulder. “Okay.”
Applejack’s voice came again, not directed at them. “Come on, girls. Let’s give em a little time to work it out.” Amusement tinged her tone.
“It’s not like that!” Rainbow Dash called after the three girls leaving the living room area.
“Sure, sure,” came Applejacks half-laughed reply. “Take your time ta get sorted. Coffee’s ready when you are.”
Chairs scraped across stone tiles, and the sound of coffee mugs being brought out, and coffee being poured covered the sound of whispered conversation interspersed with giggles and guffaws.
Twilight’s cheeks heated more, but she felt like laughing with them. She had to. It was just so ridiculous. Isn’t it? Why aren’t I laughing?
“Twi?” Rainbow whispered, her voice so low that Twilight barely heard it. “Are you okay? You look a little…” She bit her lip, eyes flicking back and forth between Twilight’s. “Scared.”
“I’m not,” Twilight whispered back. But butterflies thrummed in her stomach. This was the moment to say something else. The other girls were laughing, covering anything she might say. Rainbow was right there, listening to her. But say what? “Rainbow, I—” Words stuck to the tip of her tongue like glue, refusing to be said, and refusing to be examined. I don’t know. All she could do was lay there, her mouth open, jaw working as something tried to be said.
“Don’t worry about it. Sorry about the leg… dunno how we ended up like that.” Spots of color in Rainbow’s cheeks said she at least halfway recalled the late night half-waking change of position.
Or does she?
Rainbow cleared her throat. “Anyway…” The hand massaging Twilight’s bicep stopped, sliding across her back to meet up with the other hand. Both clasped over Twilight’s back, stretched out above her, and settled back down.
Twilight arched an eyebrow at her. “Smooth.” Maybe she does remember. Maybe it was intentional.
“So…” Rainbow smirked at her, hands sliding down together to rest lower on Twilight’s back, though well above the small of it. “What happened last night,” she said quietly, “I didn’t mean it to happen like that. I just got tired. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t like it.” She stopped again, twisting her neck to look past Twilight’s head, then settled back down. “Did it mean something else to you?”
“I don’t know.” The answer hurt, coming out. How can I not know? She’s right there. Say something else! “It was… nice.” She let her head drop to Rainbow’s shoulder, holding back a mad giggle that nonetheless resounded in her head.
“Yeah. It was.” Rainbow slid a hand free to catch Twilight’s wrist, massaging gently into the joint while the other stroked her back lightly. “How’s the arm?”
“It’s okay, now.” Her arm still felt like it was numb from elbow to fingertips, and the working of Rainbow’s fingers into her wrist was only sending jabs and spikes of purest sensation stabbing up her arm. “Really.”
“Liar,” Rainbow grunted. “I can see you twitch every time I poke right… here.” Instead of her wrist, Rainbow jabbed a finger into her side.
She yelped, pushing herself off and rolling to her side to crash into the side of the coffee table in the center of the room.
“Whoa! Hey, sorry!” Rainbow scooted over on her side, hand darting to cradle the back of Twilight’s head. “You okay?”
“Yeah. I’m fine.” Twilight smiled at Rainbow’s raised eyebrow. “Really. I didn’t thump anything.”
“Okay. Sorry about that. I just… I dunno. I wanted to make you laugh.” Rainbow sighed, shaking her head, and shifted her hand to rest on Twilight’s cheek. “You, uh…” Rainbow coughed. “You wanna talk?”
“Yes.” About what? “But I’m not sure if I know what I think.”
“Makes two of us, I guess.” Rainbow grunted and sat up. “Y’know, friends don’t usually sleep together like that.”
“Oh.” One mystery solved. Not that it was exactly a mystery. “I-I know. And I don’t know.” Please understand!
“Yeah.” Rainbow barked a laugh and stretched, arms stretching over her head, grinning. “Well… makes two of us, again.”
It was loud enough to reach the other girls, and the silence that followed said more than if the girls were staring over the couch at them.
“I like you,” Rainbow said, more quietly. “Heck, you’re one of my best friends. No lie. But, uh…” She traced the fingers of one hand down her front quickly, then came to rest on her hip as she puffed out her chest. “I wasn’t exactly modest last night. If this is about that, well…”
“It’s not,” Twilight said as the scene played out again in her mind again, slow enough that she couldn’t help but notice everything lurid in her memory. “Not exactly.”
“Heh. Yeah. So, I figure, uh… give it some time. If ya still feel the same way later,” Rainbow said in fits and starts, cheeks heating more. “I figure we can always give it a shot.”
“Yeah.” Twilight sighed and rubbed at her tingling arm as the spikes of discomfort grew less insistent. “Do you think…” I’m a lesbian? But she couldn’t say it, and the look Rainbow gave her said she didn’t need to.
“It doesn’t matter to me. You’re my friend. That’s all that matters to me.”
“Awww,” Rarity’s voice interrupted the moment, and Applejack’s shushing came a moment later.
“Don’t you shush me! It’s adorable!”
“It’s a private moment!” Applejack retorted.
“I think maybe we should get up before they start a battle,” Rainbow said, putting action to word and offering her hand to Twilight.
“I think so, too.” Twilight pulled herself up on legs almost like gelatin, and stumbled into Rainbow’s arms as she came up.
“Careful, Twi.” Rainbow’s arms around her held nothing back, and almost, Twilight wished she could have said she wanted a relationship with Rainbow right then. “Wouldn’t want you to fall.”
But she couldn’t fall, not in love. She didn’t know enough about herself, and the frightening void in her knowledge warned her away from committing too deeply too soon. “I won’t,” she said softly, standing up straighter even as tingles prickled at her feet. “Thank you.”
Twilight sat at the table, nursing a hot coffee slowly as the sun kept rising above the cliffs, bathing the beach in warm gold and burning away the last streamers of fog.
Rainbow sat on the couch, eating something with a spoon and chatting with Applejack in low tones. Twilight wanted, and didn’t, to know what they were talking about. Fluttershy sat at her side, occasionally looking aside at her.
“I know.” Twilight sighed and let her eyes wander back to settle on Rainbow’s head where she sat on the couch, the bowl of her uneaten s’moresgasbord held in one hand while she ate it with a spoon. “I just don’t know what to think.”
“About what?”
She didn’t want to say it, but… They’re my friends. “I’ve never been in love,” she said. “I don’t know what it’s like.”
“Oh.” Fluttershy nodded slowly, sipping at her coffee with a wrinkle growing around her nose as she kept the mug to her mouth.
Twilight pushed two packets of creamer to her with a smile. “It’s okay. I know the answer has to come from me.”
“Hogwash,” Applejack said, throwing herself into the chair across from Twilight. “You ain’t gotta figure it out all on your own. Heck, when Rarity went nuts over that out of town fashion high muckity-muck, we all kinda… well, I guess we kinda let Rarity kinda figure it out on her own, sad to say.” She coughed and looked over her shoulder.
“I was perfectly capable of learning from my own mistakes,” Rarity said tartly from the chair by the fireplace. “Not that you didn’t help, Applejack, in your own way. I admit, I let the glamour overwhelm me for a time, but it would have given me so many contacts in the industry! You have no idea.” She waved a hand dismissively. “No matter, I suppose. Not much time to pursue a fashion career if I have to keep saving the world every six months.”
“Uh, saving the school, Rares,” Rainbow said, somehow putting the roll of her eyes into her voice even through a mouthful of s’mores. She paused long enough to lick the spoon between waving it idly. “It’s not that I don’t think we couldn’t, y’know, because we’re awesome, but so far everything has just been CHS—or Equestria, I guess, that first time. Though I don’t know how Sunset was thinkin’ she could get teenage, uh, pony zombies to take over a whole world.”
“Fair point,” Rarity said. “But it makes my point no less valid. I mean, certainly, we are not as busy as we could be—as those heroes always are in the movies—but…” she shrugged. “Once every six months is quite busy enough! Why, I haven’t had even a chance to really get to know some of the clients Sapphire Shores has been kind enough to send my way, what with school, saving it, and being in a band.” She paused to eat a spoonful of dry cereal, the muffled crunching sound of her chewing filling the silence until she finished. “My life is quite hectic.”
“Well,” Applejack said slowly, “that life ain’t here right now. We’re on vacation, and you stop that worryin’ right now, y’hear?”
“Quite right. Except, even on vacation, we can’t seem to escape things that need doing.” She looked at Rainbow Dash pointedly. “And I need to get up to the top of the cliffs to get a signal, but I would rather not spend all morning at it.”
“Well, it ain’t that far of a walk. Maybe a mile.”
“Uphill,” Rarity shot back.
“Shallow slope. Easy enough, seein’ how you like to walk every mornin’.”
“In the fog.”
Applejack turned her head slowly to look out the large window towards the cliff.
Twilight looked with her. There was a little fog, but what little there was was being torn to shreds by the wind blowing strongly down off the cliffs, bending some of the scraggly trees high up almost perpendicular to the rock faces they clung to.
Applejack didn’t say anything, but her raised eyebrow made sure she didn’t have to.
For a moment, Twilight thought Rarity was going to continue, but she sighed, instead.
“Could you please drive me to the top?” She paused, lowering the bowl to cradle it in both hands against her stomach. “You’re right, Applejack, this is a vacation, and I would prefer to enjoy it as much as I can.”
Twilight almost heard the silent ‘I would rather not argue’ underlying the words.
Applejack seemed to hear it as well, and didn’t offer any further argument. Instead, she laid the keys for the van on the table as she bit into her toasted bagel.
“No road trip?”
“I don’t know, Pinkie Pie. It’s just to the top of the cliff. That’s hardly a road trip.”
“But I wanna get see if I’ve got any texts! What if I’ve missed something important? What if the Glee Club is planning a party without me?”
“And why do we need to go on a road trip? We’re just going to the top of the cliff.” Applejack shook her head. “Ain’t road trips all about the length?”
“But—”
“Vacation, Pinkie,” Rainbow said, jabbing her spoon at the other girl. “And we’re going, so relax.”
“Okay!” A loud thump followed.
Twilight twisted around further to see Pinkie laying on the floor, sprawled out like she’d been knocked senseless. Not that there was much sense to be made…
“Pinkie Pie,” Rainbow said, shaking her head, “you are so random.”
“Aw! That’s so sweet!” Pinkie’s giggle drifted up from the floor. “Get it? Sweet? Because you’re eating—”
“I get it,” Rainbow said, groaning. “You don’t have to explain it.” She flopped back and rolled her eyes up until Twilight could see her pupils. “You wanna come too, Twi? I’m going because I wanna get at least a little charge on my phone. See if my folks sent me any messages, y’know.”
“I-I guess.” Twilight looked down at her satin pajamas and the dark spot on the shoulder where Rainbow had drooled, just a little, in the night. “When are we going? I would like to get dressed first.”
“An hour or so, I suppose,” Applejack said. She reached over to touch Fluttershy’s elbow. “You wanna come too, sugarcube? You’ve been awful quiet this morning.”
At first, Fluttershy shook her head, then she stopped and looked aside at Twilight. “I guess. I mean, if you don’t mind.”
Does she think… Twilight looked down at her hands, and remembered the warmth of Fluttershy’s hand in hers, and the reluctance with which she had let go. Could I have hurt her? Maybe she was trying to tell me something.
That moment on the beach… “It doesn’t mean that I’m in love with you.” It had been clear. Hadn’t it?
“No, I don’t mind,” Twilight said.
Applejack looked at her, then Fluttershy, but didn’t say anything before popping the last piece of bagel in her mouth.
Twilight looked up at Rainbow Dash briefly, but didn’t see anything in the other girl’s face. Rainbow just looked back at her with a faint, dreamy smile. She couldn’t tell if it was because of the blood that must have been rushing to Rainbow’s head, or the upside-down glance, but Rainbow looked pleased, and blushing.
“Alright then,” Applejack said, brushing bagel crumbs off her hands briskly. “It’s settled. We’re goin’ on a road trip.” A wry twist tugged at one side of her smile. “To the top of the cliff.”
“Woohoo! Road trip!”
An hour later, Twilight sat in the back seat next to Rainbow Dash. The van’s engine rumbled smoothly along as the wheels rumbled and crunched along the gravel ramp leading up to the clifftop.
Outside, Twilight watched the craggy limestone walls drift by, growing shallower and shallower. Trees and grass clung to the walls all the way up, little patches of green in the dingy brown-white stone. She wanted to get out and take a look up close and see if she could identify them, or to see if she could find little fossils in the strata. Well, she thought, little fossils big enough for me to see without a microscope.
“Whatcha looking at?” Rainbow’s voice was just low enough for her to hear, but not much else.
“Hmm?” She pondered, momentarily, not telling her what it was she was actually looking at, then shook her head. “Rocks, trees and grass.”
“Oh. Hey, you wanna play badminton again tonight? Just, uh…” Rainbow cleared her throat. “Just the two of us?”
Should I? Is that… would that be a sign to the others? Does it matter if it is? Twilight shook her head slightly, trying to clear out that cobwebs.
“Oh. Okay.”
“No, I wasn’t… I would like to, Rainbow. I’m just feeling…” Confused? Worried? “Lost.”
“Yeah,” Rainbow said, rubbing the back of one hand with the other. “I get that. You wanna, um, go for a walk on the beach later?” She seemed to realize what she’d said sounded like as a blush crept up her cheeks. “To talk, I mean. Not that I’m any good at it,” she muttered, almost too quiet for Twilight to hear.
“I think that would be good. Talking.” That was that. Twilight was going to talk to Rainbow, and figure out just what it was that her heart and mind was trying to tell her about the girl. Am I in love? Is this what it feels like? Or am I just being me? Awkward and— She cut her thoughts off with another shake of her head.
“You doin’ okay?”
“Yeah.” The uncertain eddy of emotions kept on going, seeming ceaseless as the roiling of the ocean, and just as complex. I just don’t know enough.So what do you usually do when you don’t know enough? Well, that was easy. Research. But I can’t do research on my friends… can I? She tried to catch a glimpse of what Rainbow was doing out of the corner of her eye, saw the other girl doing the same, and snapped her eyes forward. I need to learn!
She tried again, disguising the glance with a full-body twist to stare behind them at the last corner they’d rounded, and the distant ocean barely visible over the outcropping. Rainbow was leaning against the window, looking out as the van crept up past the narrowest point of the ramp, still twice as wide as the van itself, where harder granite outcroppings thrust up through the soft limestone to form a natural barrier to water. Had the road not been there, it would have made a gorgeous waterfall during the rainier parts of the year.
Rainbow! You’re trying to figure out how you feel about her. Focus!
When she turned back around, she caught sight of Rainbow’s hand resting on the seat between them.
Fluttershy’s hand had been warm and soft, and the feeling of Rainbows rougher, calloused hand against her face had felt… not exactly better, but different. It had still been warm.
Before she could form another doubt in her mind, she planted her hand on Rainbows.
She saw, from the corner of her eye, Rainbow jerk upright, but the hand stayed put.
Okay. Step one: establish contact. Ready for step two: observe the subject.
Exactly what she was supposed to look for escaped her. This kind of experimentation wasn’t like physics or chemistry, and certainly not like biology. Just the thought of biology made her face heat again as her mind helpfully replayed Rainbow’s impromptu morphology lesson. Yes, all girls were essentially the same on the outside, with only superficial differences.
Twilight knew what she looked like, and her mind, again, helpfully drew up a picture of herself staring into the mirror. She could see marked differences, but enumerating those differences would take— Stop!
The train of her thoughts came to an abrupt stop, and she could almost feel the tracks tearing apart under the strain.
“Twi? You okay over there?”
“Mhm!” She nodded vigorously, not trusting herself to more eloquent speech.
“Uh, could you please stop trying to strangle my hand?”
Twilight snatched her hand back as though burned. “Sorry!” she blurted.
“S’okay. Calm down, Twi. Look,” Rainbow leaned in close and held her hand up to Twilight’s ear. “I think I know what’s botherin’ you. Just calm down. Talk later.”
A jerky nod was all Twilight could manage through the flaming embarrassment filling her thoughts.
Fluttershy, sitting in the seat in front of Twilight, turned and looked at her over the shoulder of the seat. “Twilight? Are you okay? I thought I heard… something.”
Panic. Wait, no. Don’t panic! “I-I’m fine!”
“Delayed reaction freakout, Fluttershy,” Rainbow said in a smooth voice. “She’ll be fine.” She shot a look at Twilight that didn’t need much interpretation. It said ‘We need to talk.’
“Oh. Okay.” Her eyes shifted to Twilight. “If you want to talk—”
Rainbow made a cutting gesture across her throat.
Fluttershy smiled, turned around, and sat back down.
Rainbow sighed and slumped back into her seat, but her hand quested about on Twilight’s side of the seat until it found her arm. “It’s okay.” She pulled Twilight’s hand back down and clasped it into her own. “It’s okay, Twi. Really. Just relax.”
By the time the van rumbled to a stop and the engine died, Twilight’s heart had settled down to an almost calm rhythm, and she had finished cleaning up the train wreck of her thoughts. She had even survived Pinkie, Fluttershy, and Rarity looking back to see her holding hands with Rainbow.
She wasn’t exactly sure how, but each time she looked up to see someone else smiling at them, it had felt less tense.
“A mile?”
“Heh. Straightways, anyway.” Applejack shook her head. “Guess I forgot how windy that switchback was.”
“And that wind! Why, I would have been face on to it for almost all of the walk!”
“Aw, your hair’d be fine, Rarity.”
“Hair, nothing! Have you ever heard of windburn? Or seen a gruff hero’s face described as weather-beaten?” Rarity patted a hand against one cheek, then the other. “This is not the face of a weather-beaten gruff type. This is the face of a lady.”
“Rarity…” Applejack shook her head. “Make the call.”
“Already ringing,” Rarity replied, smug satisfaction in her tone.
Fluttershy shook her head slowly before slumping back into her seat.
In the near silence, punctuated by the tinny electronic tone from Rarity’s phone, Twilight settled back in her seat as well, looking up at the gray fabric covering the van’s roof. Inside, she almost wished she could feel as calm as that flat gray covering, but her thoughts continued a whirlwind of activity, never settling on one thing for very long.
But always coming back to the hand still holding hers. It was the most mundane thing. Cadance and Shining Armor held hands all the time. So did every couple she’d ever seen. Therein lay the problem. Couples held hands. At least, they did sometimes. But friends held hands, too.
Close friends? Closer than friends? Friends needing support? Do I need support? Fluttershy’s quiet gentleness had assured her that friends held hands, too. And that look Fluttershy had given her earlier, after she had woken up with Rainbow atop her. What did that mean? Was she thinking I thought we were a couple? Did she want to… hold hands? Did she want to fall asleep with me?
More questions, and she had no more answers than a vacuum held breathable atmosphere. And you’ll never get any if you don’t ask them of the people who might hold the answers.
That was the first rule of learning. Ask questions. But who to ask what question? Asking them may have been as cool and clean as a scientific inquiry—if she were an idiot. Questions could hurt those she loved as friends, they could hurt family. Once, she would have thought them only words, and asked them without a second thought.
Now… She looked down at her empty hand, then at the one holding Rainbow’s, and finally up at Rainbow; whose attention wasn’t on Twilight, but on the small display of her smart-phone, a cord trailing from it to one of the cigarette lighter charging ports on the center console.
Twilight sighed, squeezed Rainbows hand gently, and slipped hers free.
“Huh?” Rainbow looked up, at her, and smiled. “Sorry. Distracted. Dad sent me an email. He’s, uh, hum…” She went back to reading from her screen, patting Twilight’s leg gently.
“It’s okay.” Twilight patted the hand and pulled her own phone free of her jacket’s front pocket. She didn’t have a smart-phone like Rainbow or Pinkie. It was, frankly, frivolous when her laptop was so much more capable and less full of distraction.
Still, since making more friends, she had convinced her mother to upgrade the texting plan to unlimited. Not that it had taken much convincing once Twilight told her the reason. At least one or two a day came in, most of them from Pinkie, and they were starting to get her to see the benefit of a smartphone to stay connected via MyStable—where Pinkie was reigning queen of socializing at the school.
Rarity resisted, of course. She had a little flip phone like Twilight’s, albeit far more elegant and decorated in her signature purple and white, with blue diamond triplets all over. It should have been gaudy, but Rarity somehow made it fit her ensemble.
By contrast, Twilight’s phone was a simple, functional gray with a color screen on the flip case. And it was slow. Not that she needed it to be fast, but then she almost wished she did have a smart-phone.
It was also loud, as it demonstrated by alerting everyone in a five mile radius that it had finished booting up with the nerve-jarring jangle of the carrier’s ring tone at full volume. Well, maybe not that far, but the sudden noise in the near silence startled everyone.
“Sorry. My phone must have reset again.” Shiny keeps trying to get me to upgrade. Maybe I should take him up on his offer.
“S’okay,” Rainbow said through the quickly descending bloops as Twilight silenced it again. “Dinosaurs are loud. Everyone knows this.”
“What about ninja dinosaurs? I think they’re silent. But no-one has ever seen one!”
“My phone is not a dinosaur! It’s only four years old!”
“Sure thing, Gramps.” Rainbow shot her a smile and went back to reading. Whatever it was must have been fairly engaging.
Twilight sighed and flipped her phone closed to wait for the buzz of incoming messages. Shiny would have sent one, at the least, and probably Cadance, too.
“Hello, mother,” Rarity sing-songed from the front seat. “Oh, we’re all doing fine. Yes, the house is fine, too. No crab migration or pigeon infestation this time.” She fell quiet, making small noises into the phone as she listened.
Twilight’s phone buzzed in her hand once. The little display glittered and ‘New Message’ scrolled across the small screen. It buzzed again, and a little ‘2’ appeared at the top.
“One thing, though,” Rarity said after a long string of mumbled acknowledgements mixed with the occasional negative. “We seem to have run out of propane. I don’t suppose you or daddy could—” She cut off almost mid-word. “Well, yes, I do have it. I don’t see what that has to do with—” She cut off again and snapped her fingers at Applejack. “Paper!”
“I don’t have any. Didn’t think we’d need—”
“Pinkie Pie! Paper!”
“Rares, just tell me what ya want, and I’ll get it down,” Rainbow said, tapping on her phone. “See, this is why you need a smart—”
“Shush! No, not you, mother. Okay. What is the name?” Rarity twisted around in her seat, brow furrowed. “Turnip Farm Equipment.” She paused, lifting the phone away from her head, then put it back. “Are you serious, mother? A farm equipment place? In Hayseed? But that’s…”
“Forty miles, I reckon,” Applejack said calmly, reaching for the ignition. “Best get goin’.”
“Mother? Mother? Hello?” The phone snapping shut sounded like a bullwhip as the van rumbled to life again. “She hung up on me! It wouldn’t take her any more time to call this… this… Turnip Farm Equipment than it would to… to make a call! And she wants me to—”
“Calmly, Rarity,” Applejack said, reaching out to rest a hand on Rarity’s knee. “We’d have to do this someday, y’know. Best we get used to it, I suppose. ‘Sides. Could use a hot lunch not cooked on a camp stove. Be… well, a little early, but we can hang out a bit. Hayseed’s not bad for a small town.”
“She could have at least given me the phone number,” Rarity grumbled.
“Hot lunch,” Pinkie said, dropping her voice to a husky whisper as she stroked Rarity’s shoulder. “Hot… food…”
“Oh my.” Fluttershy leaned forward and tapped Rarity on the shoulder. “I would like a hot lunch, too. Like a soup, o-or a toasted sandwich. That would be so wonderful.”
“Oh, alright. Rainbow? Twilight?” Rarity twisted about further, then batted away Pinkie’s hand when she didn’t stop stroking. “Stop that. Would you two like hot lunch, too? There’s no need for you to go if you don’t want to.”
She’s asking if I want to spend some time alone with Rainbow. Twilight bit her lip and glanced aside at Rainbow, who shrugged. “I think I would like a hot lunch.” And I’m not sure if I’m ready to be alone with her yet.
“Me, too!”
Rarity’s eyes flicked between them before her smile came back. “Alright, then. Onward, Applejack! To Hayseed! And whatever we must do to get a hot shower tonight, I will do it. Even if it means kissing a cow.”
“I’ll hold ya to that, Rarity.”
“Ew! Applejack, no! It was a joke!”
“What was that? I can’t hear ya over the sound of the engine.”
Twilight laughed as the engine roared, the tires spun for half a second in gravel, and then they were off again, the van full of laughter—even Rarity’s, after Applejack promised she wouldn’t make Rarity kiss a cow.
It wasn’t until a few miles down the road that Twilight’s phone buzzed again. Right, she’d gotten texts earlier.
She flipped open her phone and touched the button.
Sunset Shimmer—
Hey, Twi. Hope you’re having fun. Kinda lonely.
You should have come with us, Sunset, she thought, sighing and shaking her head. Her lips pursed as she read the message again. Hey, Twi. An inkling of a thought hit her, and she checked the recipient info. She was the only one for this message. Did she send it to the others and my phone is being stupid again?
“Hey, Rainbow?” She looked up briefly to see Rainbow playing some game, tapping furiously at the screen.
“Yeah?” Rainbow didn’t even look up.
“You get a text from Sunset?”
“Huh?” Rainbow looked up, and her phone squealed, then made a tinny rumbling sound. “Aw, come on! I was almost at a new record.” She thumped her head back against the seat. “Let me check.” After a moment of muttering under her breath and tapping away at the screen, she shook her head. “I dunno. My messenger app is kinda funky. I barely even use it. What’s up?”
Twilight nodded, flicking a look at Pinkie. “She’s feeling lonely.”
As expected, Pinkie gasped, and her fingers blurred as she wrote a text and sent it.
She sent it just to me? If Sunset was looking for help with feeling less lonely, Pinkie would have been the first one she sent the message to. But she sent it to me.Why? Something pulled at her heart, familiar now as the feeling she got whenever she wanted to be with her friends. She checked the next message, resisting the urge to press her hand to her chest.
Sunset Shimmer—
In truth, I’m feeling pretty awful. Things didn’t work out. I want someone to talk to.
The timestamp of the message was only a few hours ago, and the recipient list was just her. Again. She wants to talk to me. Why does she want to talk to me? Fluttershy would understand her better, be more understanding.
She tapped out a quick message.
Twilight Sparkle—
Would you like me to call you? I’m with the others right now.
Pinkie’s phone jangled, the tone of an incoming message.
“Ooh! She’s doin’ okay, now! She’s with the Dazzlings, still, and they’re having a blast.”
She lied? Or is she doing okay?
Twilight’s phone buzzed again.
Sunset Shimmer—
Please don’t tell them. I’m not doing okay. I just don’t want them to know. They’ll want to do something. I want to talk to you.
Her phone buzzed again.
Sunset Shimmer—
They wouldn’t understand.
Twilight snorted. And I do? She sighed, shaking her head, and closed her phone. This time, she didn’t resist the urge, and let hand and phone press to her chest, over the thrumming bands gripping her heart. She wanted to be with Sunset, and she couldn’t. She looked at Rainbow, feeling another flicker of… something in her heart, like the strings on a guitar humming after a light touch.
I don’t even understand my own heart. What good can I do for someone else?
Road trips had been something of a family tradition for Twilight. Every summer, and sometimes during the school year, her family would go on one to some city or another, or some historic site.
The tar pits south of Dodge Junction were a popular place—for her family, at least. She was no stranger to the long hours of nothing much to do except think or read, and she had never before felt restless on a long road trip. Usually, she had more than enough to read and think about to keep her mind occupied.
During that drive, with the sun stretching up towards noon and shrinking shadows that flitted by from telephone and power poles, everything felt different. The road humming underneath the van, usually a sound to help her focus had become a long, low droning that filled Twilight with a longing to do.
What, though? She flipped open her phone again, and scrolled down to Sunset’s contact. Call her? She flicked a look at Rainbow, engrossed in her phone, playing that racing game. Pinkie had her MyStable page open, and Fluttershy was listening to music and watching the plains and hills rolling by. Text her?
Sighing, she closed it again and tried to settle back in her seat, watching Rainbow tapping the controls on her screen, driving a little car around a virtual track while numbers popped and flashed across the screen.
Sunset kept coming back to mind, and try as she might, she couldn’t not flip her phone open again to stare at the contact and the two buttons. Finally, she tapped the Text key and wrote a short message, then stared at it.
Is it good enough? Should I say something more? Her thumb hovered over the Send key. “Should I call her,” she murmured under her breath, thumb twitching to rest on the Call key again.
“Count primes, ladybug.” Cadance’s memory said in her mind. “Whenever I need to get my mind off something, I count prime numbers. How high can you go?”
“Two,” she whispered, closing her eyes. “Three, five, seven, eleven…”
She got up to one thousand, three hundred and twenty-one that first time—before Sunset came back in her mind. Her record, topping off in the ten-thousands, felt a far distance off. I’m better at this! Why is this so hard, now?
You’ve never had a friend hurting and been unable to do anything, before. Except that wasn’t quite true. Not quite. She could have called, could have told everyone else about Sunset’s depression. But that would betray the trust Sunset had placed in her. And texting felt so… passive.
Well, you are good at being passive. She sighed, fingering her phone where it lay on the seat between her and Rainbow. It didn’t buzz, or chirp, and it was a struggle not to check it every time a white marker flashed by.
Also not helping was the occasional text from Sunset to Pinkie.
“Oooh! They had a blast at the arcade! Sunset beat them at Dance Prance Revolution.”
Every text that came in, the first text played over and over in her mind. ‘I’m feeling pretty awful.’
Why would Sunset lie? Why does she want the girls to stay away? Why… More questions she didn’t know the answer to, piling up on top of all the other questions swirling around in the back of her mind.
The questions kept coming back whenever she closed her eyes, and the hum in her heart grew less and less, and the tight bands circling it grew tighter until it seemed that her body must thrum in time with the painful crescendo.
Each time, she would focus on the primes, and start off again at two. Each time, she got fewer and fewer right before she started including non-prime numbers or simply forgot where she was.
Friendship is not math.Is it music? Music was mathematical. Symmetrical. Friendship was messy, and complicated… and beautiful. That thought, at least, made her smile.
One… The thought fizzled out. One’s not a prime number! One call was all it would take. One friend, maybe alone. One friend she couldn’t do anything for. Not right now. Can I?
Not without breaking Sunset’s request to keep her distress from them. She flipped her phone open again to the draft of a message she had almost sent several times. Next to the Send button was the Call button, and her thumb kept twitching to it.
But Sunset had asked her to keep her troubles secret from the others. Why? Calling her would be the right thing to do, make sure she was okay. But right for who was another question. Right for her. But Sunset had asked her to keep it quiet.
Why?
Twilight Sparkle—
I’ll call you tonight. After the others have gone to sleep.
Send it.
She wanted to. Her thumb hovered over the button. Promising to call meant she would have to hide it from her friends. Not promising to call meant she would have to torture herself with listening to the falsehoods spilling from Pinkie’s phone.
Rainbow, beside her, was still engrossed in whatever game she was trying to achieve a new record in now, and the furrow-browed concentration on the other girl’s face said she was paying little attention to anything else. Twilight looked away before it seemed the pressure of her gaze must alert Rainbow to her stare.
She added a small bit to the end of the text.
Are you doing what you keep telling Pinkie? I don’t know what to think, Sunset. I’m worried for you.
She read it twice more, going over the words in her mind, wondering if there was something else she could say, or a better way to word it.
But, like the prime numbers, she couldn’t focus on the words or what else would make it better.
Minutes passed, the road hummed, and Twilight pressed Send. Sunset, she could help later. She glanced at Rainbow again, still intent on her phone, and held back another sigh. Today is going to be a long day. I just know it.
Surprisingly, she didn’t feel despair at the thought. Anticipation, maybe. She didn’t know what was going to happen, and that was almost exciting.
“Alright, everybody! We’re here!” The engine died as Applejack announced it.
Twilight sat up straighter, rubbing her phone against her jeans. Sunset had finally texted her back just a few minutes ago. She looked at it again before closing her phone.
—Sunset Shimmer
Okay. I didn't know she was telling everyone. I just wanted her not to worry. I mean, I suppose I'm better, now. I'm just feeling down. Nothing went like I wanted. Can't wait to talk to you.
It was enough to keep her from calling right away and worry about what her friends thought later, and enough to know that Sunset would wait for her to call. For a time, she could put it aside. Worrying about what was wrong wasn’t going to help, either. She forced herself to look around as everyone else unbuckled seat belts and opened doors to let in the clear, cool air that smelled faintly of oil and dirt.
Hayseed was a small town. Main Street ended almost before it began, and not even a stop sign decorated the corner where it faded back into highway.
A silver railcar cafe, a couple houses with peeling paint and unkempt lawns, and a large yard full of farm equipment, huge tanks, and rust occupied most of what could be considered the town proper. More houses stretched off into the shallow hills backing the town against the bluffs along the coast, hidden by trees and the bulk of the enormous barn Applejack had pulled up to.
The white lettering on the side of the barn proclaimed Turnip Farm Equipment. A smaller brick building squatted next to it, with faded and chipped gold lettering in the single window spelling ‘Office.’ No other vehicles sat in the parking lot, and Twilight had to twist all the way around to face the cafe to see any vehicles that weren’t spotted with rust. There, a lone jeep with a sun-faded, brown canvas top sat alongside the diner, towards the back.
In the distance, huge plumes of dust followed straight lines along the tapestry of fields spreading out around into the hazy distance, right up to the edge of a dark bank of towering clouds, their dark bottoms lit with occasional flashes of lightning.
Closer, massive concrete silos stood like bizarre, stumpy mesas sprouting frameworks of delicate seeming steel walkways and tubing from their tops, and long chutes that hung mostly upright, angling away from the sides. A train, or part of one, was sitting alongside the concrete-grey and rust-streaked pillars, and one of the chutes levering from the side of the silos billowed reddish dust as a hair thin stream of gold poured into the open grain bin on one of the cars.
“Huh.” Rainbow finally closed her game and stuffed her phone into a jacket pocket. “Small town. Looks dead.”
Twilight touched her phone, jerked her fingers away.
“Sleepy,” Applejack said, stretching to press her palms against the roof and arching her back. “Hayseed ain’t a busy city like Canterlot, but there’s more of these towns out there than ya think. Just, uh… most everyone’ll be out working the fields today, gettin’ ready to, or already planting.”
“Dead,” Rainbow said again, voice light.
“Heh. Just you come around for the goat race.”
“Uh…” Rainbow shifted her gaze to Twilight, smiled, and rested her hand on Twilight’s. “Maybe some day, huh?”
“Yeah!” Her own voice sounded forced. Twilight didn’t trust herself enough to try smiling, but she did it anyway.
Rainbow’s smile turned into a faint frown, as she squeezed Twilight’s hand firmly. “Talk,” she whispered. She caught Pinkie’s eye with a wave of her other hand and jerked her chin at the door.
With a wink, Pinkie drew Fluttershy away to stretch in the sunlight just far enough away to give them some privacy. Rarity sat in the front seat, staring at her reflection in the van’s sunshade mirror with a tube of lipstick out. At least, that’s what Twilight thought until she caught Rarity’s staring back at her in it.
“Well,” Rarity said briskly, snapping the mirror back into place, “I say, it’ll be nice to get some fresh air that isn’t salty.”
After she left and closed the door, Twilight relaxed somewhat.
She and Rainbow were alone.
“Twi…” Almost, Rainbow seemed about to go on, but her eyes flickered back and forth between staring into one and then the other of Twilight’s. She sighed, tightened her grip briefly on Twilight’s hand, and let go. “About this morning.”
Something changed this morning. She almost said it aloud, had her mouth open to say it, but nothing came out. Something held the words back. I don’t know if I’m ready. To say them, to admit she was afraid of what it meant. Or if it meant anything.
Two, three…
Rainbow touched her hand, and all thoughts of math flew out of her head.
“It’s okay.” Rainbow craned her neck, eyes darting back and forth, then settled back in her seat. “I like you, Twi. A lot. You’re smart, and you’ve been there for us without a lot to expect in return. Heh. You even helped me get that D to a C in algebra.”
“But…” She could hear it in Rainbow’s voice. The but that changed everything.
“No buts. I like you. And maybe…” Rainbow bit her lip, raising her hand to touch Twilight’s cheek. “Maybe we can be together. If you want to. But don’t think that me falling asleep on you was anything more than it was. You make a good pillow.”
“Oh.”
“And I’m sorry if, well… heh. I’ll be the first to admit I ain’t exactly modest, but if seein’ someone naked means being in love, well, hell…” Rainbow’s cheeks colored, and she hesitated, her hand still stroking Twilight’s cheek gently. “All the girls on the team are in love. Communal showers’n’all.”
“That’s stupid, isn’t it?” But she’d never seen anyone else naked—herself excluded—and aside from her explorations—she turned aside from those quickly as heat burned in her cheeks.
“Yeah. But—”
Here it is.
“Stop giving me that look. There’s no but.” Rainbow shifted her hand to cradle the back of Twilight’s neck and shuffled closer. “You’re a great friend. If you want there to be more, or think there might be, I’ll give it a go.” She jerked a thumb at the diner. “Heck, this’ll be our first date, if you want it to be.”
Date? Already? Her heart thumped harder. She jerked her head around to glance at the diner. Less than two hundred feet away. She could see the red, high backed booths, and the polished gleaming tables inside where someone was moving about from one to the next. She saw herself sitting there, beside Rainbow, their hands held covertly under the table, and sharing a look, then a kiss when no one was watching.
Too fast! Her heart skipped a beat, or a dozen, and the strings around her heart trembled. She could accept. She could stumble blindly into a relationship. Without knowing what my heart says. She didn’t even know if it mattered that she didn’t know. The imaginary scene played again in her head, but she didn’t know if it was right, or what she wanted. Briefly, she saw each of her friends flicker through the place Rainbow sat, ending with Sunset, and then back to Rainbow. Each of them kissed her, held her hand, and warmed her heart.
I don’t know!
Rainbow backed off, sliding her hand down to Twilight’s shoulder, squeezing briefly before sliding down to twine her fingers together with Twilight’s. “Okay. Just take it easy, Twi. I…” She cast another quick look about, then drew both their hands up to plant a light kiss on Twilight’s. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I’m confused, Dashie,” Twilight whispered, dropping her phone and pulling Rainbow’s hand up to press to her cheek. “I don’t know what I want.” The confession felt like a jolt of fire coming up from her belly to seize her throat. She didn’t even know if she’d meant to say it. So much seemed to just be spilling out of her without even trying, And so much that should have come out stayed locked up.
“Yeah.” Rainbow scooted over the center cushion to sit closer, and guided Twilight down to rest a cheek on her shoulder. “Me either, but we’ll figure it out together.”
Twilight let herself be lost in being held. Emotion felt like a distant shore, where she could see the waves rolling higher and higher up the sand towards where she stood. Thought, too, was distant, though she could feel questions burbling along, a stream of them waiting to rush over her.
But, for a moment, it didn’t matter. She was safe.
Some time later, Applejack leaned against the van with her back turned, and knocked on the back window. “Y’all need some more time? Office manager’s here.”
Twilight stifled a giggle in Rainbow’s shoulder and pulled back, surprised to see a small wet spot on Rainbow’s dark blue jersey. Crying? “Yes.”
Rainbow stiffened slightly, and her arms tightened, pulling Twilight closer, then loosened. "Can't hide in here forever, Twi. Let's go."
“Y’all don’t have to come in, if you don’t want to, but Turnip’s an old friend. He’s at the rodeo near every year… well, usually.” She clapped a hand to Twilight’s shoulder. “Anyway, I’d appreciate it if you’d take a moment to say ‘Hi’ at least.”
“S-sure.” Twilight clutched tighter to Rainbow’s hand, then forced herself to relax her hold when Rainbow shook her hand. Applejack hadn’t even glanced at their clasped hands.
“Real quick. I’m gettin’ hungry,” Rainbow said, shooting a look at the diner and licking her lips. “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had a real burger, and not some fake—”
“Ahem.” Rarity shook her head, then jerked her chin at Fluttershy.
“Sure, sure. But business is business, and it’s gotta be taken care of.” Applejack shrugged and pushed open the door, waving them all in with a whispered: “And courtesy is courtesy, but I could use a burger, too,” that Twilight barely heard.
She strode in after them, a grin spreading as she held out a hand. “Hey there, Turnip Truck. Been awhile since I seen you at a rodeo.”
“AJ,” he said, reaching out to clap her hand with one of his, pump it once and let go. “Couple years, I reckon, not that I’ll forget that performance. Was pretty sweet, the way you wrangled them cows. How you been?”
“Good enough, TT, good enough.” Applejack half-turned, and waved a hand at the other five crowding into the small office. “These are my friends. Rarity, I think you’ve met, once.”
“How do you do, sir? Though, I do believe it was your father I met when I was just a girl.”
"Right you are, ma'am." Before taking her hand, he looked at his, wiped it on the side of his coveralls with a sheepish half-smile, and held just her fingers in his. "Pleasure to meet ya."
Twilight hid partway behind Rainbow, letting her hand slip free to slide her arm around Rainbow's waist, her chin resting on a shoulder as she let her eyes roam over the office.
It wasn’t exactly a small office, but there were so many gleaming replicas of various farm machines made of sharp angles and green-painted steel cutting into the open space that it felt cramped.
A single desk sat cramped into a corner with an ancient computer humming away noisily, a game of Solitaire flickering on its ancient CRT monitor. A phone, looking newer than the computer, sat on the corner of the desk.
I wonder what Sunset’s doing.
If her phone had chirped right then, she would have jumped through the roof, but she still felt it pressing in against her thigh. She shifted, squirming behind Rainbow as she tried to ease the phone in her pocket without being obvious.
“This here’s Rainbow Dash, and, uh...” Applejack paused a moment in her introductions, shooting a glance over Rainbow's shoulder at Twilight, eyebrows creeping up. “And, uh, Twilight Sparkle.”
All of her friends were staring at her, Pinkie having joined the dance along, and Rarity holding a hand politely over a widening smile. She stopped, her cheeks heating until she wanted to melt into a puddle and disappear.
Turnip Truck was staring at her, too, but stuck his hand out after only a brief hesitation. “Pleased to meet ya.”
“A-a pleasure, sir.”
His hand was rough, and she could feel the years of hard labor through the steady solidity of his handshake. “Ain’t no sir. I work for a living.” The sudden grin blooming on his face made her smile, too. Was that a joke? “Always a pleasure to meet a friend of AJ’s.”
Rainbow grinned as she shook his hand next. “Town’s kinda dead. Whatcha do for fun around here?”
“Rainbow!” Applejack swatted her shoulder.
“S’alright, AJ.” Turnip shrugged and stuck his hands into his overalls, looking like a bluff farmer. Twilight didn’t miss the twinkle in his eye. “Tip cows. Kick cans down the road. Y’know, all sortsa excitin’ stuff.”
“Turnip...” Applejack shook her head. “Gosh darnit, don't feed her that line. She’ll eat it up and not ask twice. Girl’s as gullible as a pig on a leash.”
“Am not!” Rainbow Dash shot back, raising a finger to jab at Applejack's shoulder. It paused halfway. "Wait... how gullible is a pig on a leash?"
"Ah-heh." Applejack shrugged, sticking her hands in her jeans pockets, and kicked at the ground.
Rainbow scowled, folding her arms under her breasts.
Turnip slapped his thigh and leaned back against a tall hunk of farm equipment. “Naw, we don’t do that,” he said, following with a laugh that would have done a donkey’s bray proud. “We got a race track out in the hills, a couplea folks have big TVs. Not much different’n city folk, I’d wager. ‘Ceptin a few things.” His eyes slid to Applejack, and his grin widened. “We do tip cows. Just gotta be faster’n the cow. They don’t tip easy, and they get right ornery.”
“Uh...” Rainbow flicked a look at Applejack, shaking her head. “Right. Sounds like a blast.” She stepped back to stand beside Twilight, one arm going slipping around Twilight’s waist.
“This might take a bit, y’all,” Applejack said as she pushed the door back open. “Why doncha head over to the diner?”
The brightly polished windows of the diner reflected almost everything as Twilight walked across the street. She could see the higher hills in the distance, and even the dust trail rising where a car or truck was making its way, unseen, through one of the innumerable vales.
She could also see herself and her friends as they walked. Fluttershy walked on Twilight’s right, and Rainbow Dash on her left. Pinkie carried on a one-sided conversation with all of them about how all kinds of malt flavoring would go best with what kind of ice cream in the shakes that all of them were going to have.
Twilight listened with half an ear, her attention on the double doors that framed her and Rainbow Dash near perfectly. From her perspective, at least. It seemed like the reflection was focused on their hands, clasped together.
Do we make a good couple? She was smiling in that reflection, and resisted touching her face to tell if she was—though by the thinnest margin. I can’t tell after just an afternoon!
Except she had known Rainbow for a month. Known all of them, for as long. Is that enough time? The smile in the window turned into a frown as she considered how long Shining and Cadance had been together—more than six years, and married for two.
And college was looming for them all. Twilight had her sights set on Canter Ridge. Rainbow…
“Where do you want to go to college?” As soon as it left her lips, she clapped a hand to her mouth.
“Huh?” Rainbow shook her head. “Twi, that’s a bit far off. Like… couplea years. But I’d like to play for the Canterlot Wonderbolts.”
Stay here? But Canter Ridge is across the continent! Her reflection frowned at her, and she pushed that aside. Stop it! You don’t know if you’re going to even be together. “It’s one more year, Rainbow. Don’t you remember the test prep?”
“Eh, it was just a test prep. It’s not the real test. They even said it didn’t matter what kinda score we got.”
“That’s not what I heard.” Pinkie poked her in the shoulder. “You missed Cotton Candy is Dandy Day because of it, didn’t you? I know your mom was mad, and I heard your coach had you run a lap for every point below passing you were.”
“It was just five laps.” Rainbow shrugged, her shoulders remaining hunched slightly. “Come on, I was hungry and tired.”
“That’s no excuse, Rainbow.” Twilight twitched her hand away from fingering her phone, and the Twilight in the reflection scowled as fiercely as any bear. “It was a test. They all matter, even the practice ones. Especially the practice ones. They tell you where you need to improve.”
Rainbow prodded Fluttershy’s shoulder. “Back me up. I did okay at Cloudsdale. Right?”
“Um… I’d rather not get—”
“Fluttershy! I did okay. I really did.” Rainbow’s eyes widened. “Come on, tell her.”
“Rainbow, this isn’t like Elementary School. I’m sure you did wonderfully,” Twilight said, pulling Rainbow closer, and away from Fluttershy. “This is High School, and college is just around the corner.”
What if we don’t go to the same school? That was followed swiftly by: Why am I thinking that far ahead? I don’t know if we’ll be together. Good grief, I don’t even know if we are together. Just friends. We’re friends. Friends holding hands. In public. She almost laughed, but wanted to stop everything and examine what was happening to her—wanted to talk to Sunset Shimmer, to her brother, to Cadance.
One of them would have an answer.
“Twi, lay off. I’ve got time to study. It’s not like the real test is tomorrow.” Rainbow’s hand tightened on hers, the other resting against diner door’s pull bar. “This is a vacation, remember? Worry later.”
“Twilight, you have to listen to Dashie,” Pinkie said, tugging at her opposite elbow. “Having fun is just as important as any test. If you don’t have fun, then why bother?”
“But… learning is fun.”
“And that’s wonderful,” Fluttershy said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “But it isn’t fun for everyone. Or not in the same way, at least.”
“Exactly! So let it go for just a little while, okay? I promise, I’ll let you tutor my brains out.” Rainbow hauled open the door, laughing. “Later.”
“Fine.” Twilight sighed and leaned against Rainbow, a wan smile twitching up from the frown for a moment. “But, even on vacations, I’ve thought about school. I love school. I love learning. I wouldn’t call it worrying, really.”
“Sure.” Rainbow rolled her eyes as she ushered the other two girls in with a jerk of her chin.
“Maybe it is a little like worrying.”
“But there’s some things you just don’t gotta worry about right now.” Rainbow leaned in closer as Pinkie bounced, and Fluttershy walked inside. Her voice dropped to a rough whisper. “Worry about school later. Worry about us later. Have fun now. Our kind of fun.”
The diner had as much retro furnishing as her quick glance from outside suggested. Bright, sparkle-speckled red cushions covered nearly every place a person could conceivably sit, leaving only the bartop and tables free of the shining vinyl, cracked where people actually sat, but polished to a shine where they didn’t.
Pinkie and Fluttershy were already sitting at the bar, Pinkie talking animatedly to the cook on the other side while he scribbled furiously on a pad, frowning and nodding, replying occasionally in a low, growling voice. Fluttershy was peering at a laminated menu that looked as though it hadn’t been updated since the Seventies.
Twilight hesitated, took a step towards the bar, and stopped when Rainbow didn’t follow.
“Come on,” Rainbow said, grabbing her hand and drawing her over to a booth. “Let’s get your mind off worrying.”
“Okay…” She let herself be pulled along and guided to sit down next to a glowing neon sign advertising Cud Lite. “How?”
“Uh... “ Rainbow shrugged for a moment, then settled back into the seat. “Talk, I guess. But none of that science stuff. That’s too much like schoolwork” Rainbow jabbed a finger into her palm. “The point of going on vacation is to get away from everything that bugs you. So, don’t even think about thinking about any of that crud.”
“A-and talking will help?” She twisted a lock of hair, then gathered another and made a short braid before letting it go. “About what?”
“Anything. Except science. I mean, you’d put me to sleep, something exciting. Like sports. Or travelling. Or…” Rainbow shrugged. “Um, anything. Like, um. Video games.”
“Fashion?” Twilight grinned.
Rainbow smirked, rolling her eyes theatrically. “Ugh. No. Something interesting. But not school related.”
“And nothing about us.”
“Yep! Don’t worry about relationships.” Rainbow tapped her fingers on the table, touched her friendship bracelet and its many-colored shells. After a long moment, she shrugged. “Uh… how about sports? You start.”
“Hm. Well, okay.” Twilight tapped her fingers on the tabletop, noting the faded white patches amid sparkling red on the lacquered table surface. Something sporty. Badminton? She shook her head—still too close to talking about relationships. But she couldn’t stop her thoughts from circling back around to Rainbow Dash, worrying if they had something, anything. “So… you said you played a game against the Shadowcolts before we went on vacation?”
“Yeah! Cloudkicker got the winning goal, but it wouldn’t have been possible if I hadn’t made an end-run around their entire defensive flank.” The table became the field, and Rainbow’s fingers traced out the positions of what had to be the defensive line, and then the lone finger going wide around it. “That was awesome! Like, Clement Clouds, their goalie, never even saw it coming.” A raised chunk of lacquer, trapping some invisible ridge, became the goal, and the ball zipped from one finger to the next, then at an oblique angle into it.
“So… you were tied?” She ran a finger through a narrow trough, just a dip, really, that a recent lacquering hadn’t been able to cover completely, and wondered why it was there. It was about where the stadium seating would be—where she would have been had she gone.
“Yeah. Zip-zip. I mean, they’re pretty solid as a team, but they just aren’t good enough. The Wondercolts have been top dog for, like, the entire time I’ve been here. Before that… pft. I mean, they did okay before, but now that I’m on the team, we’re unstoppable.”
“And what about, um, volleyball? Pinkie said you were a player there, too?”
“What about it?” Rainbow’s quirked an eyebrow at her. “Oh, you mean when’s our next game?”
“Yeah. Or… how do you stand up against the Shadowcolts there?”
“Eh…” Rainbow made a rocking motion with her hand. “I gotta admit they’re pretty good on that front. Especially their heavy hitter, Lightning Dust, but she’s really more of a track and field girl, like me. She doesn’t play soccer, though, but I have run a lot of races against her, and she’s pretty dang fast.” She jabbed a thumb at her chest. “But not as fast as me.”
“Oh. And badminton?” That was the only sport she had ever played with any kind of enthusiasm, despite parents who had tried to get her interested in t-ball and soccer—and given up after a few years. She peered closely at the trough, dismissing the likeness of a divot left when she’d stumbled after swinging her bat and falling down.
She drew a circle beside it with a finger, outlining a plate. It must have been where a fork had been placed, day after day, year after year. She ran a finger through it again. “It’s really the only sport I’ve ever played. You know, aside from croquet with my family, and I’m not sure that’s even a sport. I mean, historically, it was…” She trailed off, shrugged. “Never mind.”
Rainbow was watching her with pursed lips, brows furrowing. “Well, the school doesn’t really have competitive badminton. I don’t think any school does. It’s just fluffy.” She reached out to touch Twilight’s wrist, fingers tracing out the friendship bracelet Fluttershy and Rarity had made for her. “I mean, it’s fun, don’t get me wrong, and it was great playing with you yesterday.”
“It was. But I don’t think…” She shrugged.
“You’re not really into sports are you? I can tell you’ve been trying since… well, since I’ve known you. But it’s cool, it’s not your thing, and if it’s not your thing, it’s not your thing.” Rainbow shrugged, looking away, blushing as though she had just admitted some great secret, and fidgeted with the band of her bracelet.
Twilight shook her head, clasping her hands in front of her. “Not really. I mean, I try to be because I know you and Applejack really like it, but what really interests me is science.” She paused, unfolding her hands like she were sharing an equally important secret, one that might have been a secret still if not for her friends. “And magic.”
The door banged open and Rarity darted in, holding her arms over her head, Applejack close behind with one hand on her stetson, both of them followed by a rising gust of wind that ruffled the menus in their holder and set the fans to whirling briefly.
“Gonna have to make it a quick lunch, ladies,” Applejack said over a chorus of greetings and questions about the gas. “Got a hard blow rolling in, and I’d like ta make it back afore it hits.”
Lunch came in a flash, with plates being tapped down almost as soon as the wind passed. Applejack urged them on, eyes glued to the TV perched in the corner of the long bar, watching the steady line of red advancing on the tiny blip that was Hayseed, even as she snarfed down a full stack burger and a basket of fries.
“I kinda had a feeling this would happen,” Pinkie explained in between bites of a burger that left juice dribbling down her chin as she demonstrated with her twitching fingers—a symptom that Twilight had associated with her over-indulgence in sugar but been informed was a semi-mystical prediction ability. “When there’s a twitchy pinkie—” She waggled the pinkie on her left hand. “—There’s a bad storm a’comin’, so I ordered for everyone!”
“Good thing ya did,” Applejack muttered, sitting beside Rarity. She jerked a thumb at the TV, where the leading edge of dark green was almost atop the little blip. “If you’d waited, we mighta been stuck in here until the blow passed.”
Outside, the few trees visible were swaying back and forth, looking as loose as grass in a wind that howled against the sides of the diner and rattled the windows. The van, parked just outside now, shook visibly in particularly strong gusts.
Even the noon-day sun was swiftly slipping away as clouds swept in, and Twilight focused on downing her food before the green and red line got too close to the little dot that marked where they were.
In between bites, she traded glances with Rainbow, who smiled back and patted her knee with one hand.
“We’ll figure it out,” the pat seemed to say, “later.”
Twilight gripped her phone tighter, unable to see even to the side of the road past the curtain of water cascading down the window, never mind that it felt as dark as night outside in between rippling flashes of lightning.
Applejack had slowed their progress steadily after leaving the diner, first driving the full speed limit of sixty, then forty, and finally slowing to a crawling pace of ten almost half an hour later, hazard blinkers clicking mutely in the thunderous deluge that battered the van.
“At least we didn’t get stuck at the diner,” Rarity said loudly from the front passenger seat. “If I’d had any more of my shake—thank you for that by the way, Pinkie, it hit the spot—I would never have heard the end of it from my butt.”
“And we might still get stuck,” Applejack muttered as she slowed, flicked on the high beams, and peered forward into the storm, a half-smile almost hidden in the half-light and flashing bursts of lightning. “But your butt’s just fine, Rares.”
“Now, yes.” Rarity sniffed, turning a look on Pinkie. “I still don’t understand how you can put away two and not even gain an ounce, Pinkie Pie. It’s just not fair.”
“Metabowhatsits.” Pinkie chirped and shot Rarity a beaming smile, as devoid of sarcasm as it was cheerful. “Does a body good!”
Rarity shot her a glare in return and turned her attention ahead again as Applejack set the brake. “How long do you think the storm is going to last?” she asked.
“Dunno. Radar showed it movin’ pretty swift in places, but skewed to run along the coast, and it chased us for a good while. Hour, maybe?” Applejack settled back into the seat, folded her arms behind her head, and smiled. “Just enjoy it, y’all. Not often ya get a front row seat to a storm like this. Pretty neat, if I do say so.”
“It’s actually rather peaceful,” Fluttershy said. She drew a fog image of her pet rabbit in the window, smiling at it, or at the thundering downpour—Twilight couldn’t tell which. “It’s like a meditation CD.”
Rainbow Dash was engrossed in some sports app on her phone, flicking through scores and brackets and game highlight clips. “Yeah. ‘Least there’s decent cell reception.”
And Twilight was watching, too, leaned over with her head almost on Rainbow’s shoulder, trying to gather enthusiasm for the statistical portions of the games, or at least look it. But her attention kept on returning to the phone clutched in her hand, wondering if Sunset was okay, or if she should try texting again, or if she should give up the pretense of secrecy and just call.
Except Sunset had asked her not to tell them, and calling her right then would be as much as telling them that all was not well with their friend.
But she could lie. She could call her, telling her friends that she just wanted to see if Sunset had weathered the storm okay. It must have come from around Canterlot, after all, as one of the early spring storms that swept across the plains from coast to coast, barely pausing to hop over the hills between Manehattan and Canterlot’s outlying farming villages in between.
So, she could. But then came the matter of what to say to Sunset so as not to rouse her friends’ suspicions, and that came with the problem of “What if it’s worse than what it sounds like?” What then? What if Sunset wanted to go, but couldn’t because she’s seriously ill?
She flipped her phone open and opened the last message to read again. ‘Looking forward to talking to you.’ Depressed, maybe, but also looking forward to her call. She breathed in, listening to the thunder rumble while Rainbow giggled and tapped on another video. Everything would turn out okay. Maybe not as she hoped or planned, but it would turn out okay.
Rainbow, to all appearances oblivious to her worries, laughed at herself dancing the funky chicken near the goal box while the score read 1-0 and the time 90:00 on the scoreboard. “I look like such a dork!”
“Yeah,” Twilight murmured, sitting up back into her own seat. “Pretty silly!”
Rainbow cocked her head slightly to the side, eyes on the phone in Twilight’s hand—she hadn’t realized the screen was still visible. “Hey, how’s Sunset doin’? She doin’ better?”
She just barely managed to keep from snapping the phone closed. That would be suspicious. “Yeah. She’s fine, just misses us, I guess.” Then she closed the phone, smiled, and slipped it into her pocket. They didn’t need to know about her worries… they were probably just all in her head, and this was a vacation—as they kept reminding her.
“Good! Hey, maybe you could text her and tell her we miss her, too?”
“Sure. As soon as we get—”
Her phone buzzed, then jingled in her pocket, making her jump. Hurriedly, she pulled it out and glanced at the number—not Sunset. She showed the number to Rainbow, who shrugged, put her phone away, and leaned in close.
“Answer it.”
After the second ring, she did. “Hello?” She could hear the echo of the rain on the van’s roof hissing through the connection and covered the speaker with a hand.
“Hey!” The voice was familiar. “Twilight, it’s Sonata Dusk.” Minutely, she heard: “It’s Twilight, she answered,” as confusion fogged thought.
“Oh…” Sonata Dusk, one of their enemies—or were they enemies now—was calling her. Why?
Rainbow raised an eyebrow. “Who is it?”
“It’s Sonata.”
Rainbow blinked, eyes widening. “What! How’d she get your number? I didn’t even know they had phones.”
Twilight shushed her with a motion. “I don’t know—” She shook her head. “Sonata, how did you get my number?”
Rainbow leaned in close, cheek to cheek, until she could have let the phone go, and it wouldn’t fall, pressed as it was between them.
“Flash asked me to call you. You know, Flash Sentry.”
She did know, and it was all she could do to keep from groaning aloud, pressing a finger to her temple.
“He tried to kiss—” Sonata cut off. “Oh. He didn’t want me to tell you that. Sorry!”
She smiled, so Flash was there, probably had coerced the siren into calling her, but apparently Sonata was as ditzy as she had seemed in the times when she wasn’t singing. She could just imagine him frantically waving her off. The last she had heard, Flash had been more than a little upset with the Sirens—more than most of the school anyway. So why was she even there, and why had he trusted her so far?
“So, why are you calling me and not him?” She jumped as lightning flashed and thunder cracked, whiting the world for a moment and drawing startled yelps from everyone in the van.
Sonata continued, “Because he said you wouldn’t talk to him.” True enough. “He wants to apologize. So do I. Again, I mean.”
Twilight blinked, shooting a glance at Rainbow, who looked just as startled, and mouthed a ‘What?’ so clearly Twilight giggled.
“Oh. To you, not to him. Um. So… he’s sorry he said all those things to you, and I’m sorry I sorta made him say them. He really does like you. Or…”
Twilight shared another look with Rainbow.
“No? Other you? Oh, that’s right. Flash was seriously crushing on other—”
Twilight laughed, she couldn’t help it listening to Flash’s muffled voice in the background and the clacking and swooshing noises coming through the line. They must have been fighting over the phone. Just the image of it made her laugh all the harder, and even Rainbow was cracking up.
“I am not making it worse. I’m apologizing,” came through tinnily, and clearer: “That can’t be worse, can it?”
She clapped a hand over her mouth and put it on speakerphone, just in time for Flash’s strangled shout to come through.
“Just give me the phone! I’ll apologize myself!” A moment later, louder: “Twilight, I’m so sorry! I didn’t know she was crazy!”
She fumbled for the volume control, struggling against the laughter she and Rainbow were caught in, and managed: “No, it’s not worse,” before dissolving into helpless giggles, reinforced by Rainbow prodding at her side and laughing herself silly.
Every other pair of eyes was on her, and she pushed down on the laughter, but that made the pressure that much harder to laugh.
“I didn’t tell her what to say! Can you forgive me for saying what I said?” A slight pause, then, “And can you forgive Sonata?”
“Oh, Flash.” That almost broke the laughter, his sincerity and the tense note in his voice but then Rainbow was tickling her again, or trying to in between laughing. “I forgive you. And you, Sonata. You just made my day, but I’ve gotta go.” Rainbow was overcoming her own mirth, fingers probing under the hem of Twilight’s shirt. “Rainbow’s trying to—”
Out of nowhere, Pinkie was tickling her from the other side, somehow wrapped around Fluttershy’s seat and squeezed in between the seat and the sliding van door. Twilight squealed, managed to keep hold of the phone by the barest of margins, giggling madly, gasping for breath, squirming to get away, failing because of her seatbelt, and thrashed about on the seat, trapped in between two ticklers who were, themselves, laughing like mad scientists.
The phone thumped to the floor, and the battery popped out.
As if the phone falling apart were a signal, the tickling stopped, but Twilight kept on giggling in between gasping breaths, and neither Pinkie Pie nor Rainbow Dash seemed ready to leave the tangle of limbs. Not even Fluttershy, trapped in her seat by Pinkie laying across her lap, or Applejack and Rarity, leaning far out of their seats to watch and looking bemused, seemed ready to break it up.
She had to admit, too, that the warmth bubbling in her chest, and the pattern of rainbow light flickering across the backs of her eyelids when she closed her eyes, was stronger than ever. Even the red she’d come to associate with Sunset Shimmer glowed brighter, stretching off into the west beyond the horizon, convincing her that all was right.
Of course, other concerns percolated through her mind while they waited for the storm to lighten enough to drive again, and by the time it did, she was back to worrying. Not about Sunset Shimmer—she only had to close her eyes to see the glowing red line branching out from the tangled rainbow glowing all around her—but about Rainbow Dash.
Mostly it had to do with her inability to talk to Rainbow Dash about sports without getting bored, and trying to hide that boredom—not that she was successful, apparently. It just wasn’t interesting to her in the same way it obviously was to Rainbow, and most of the sports she could participate in any meaningful way with her were ‘fluffy’ and not as interesting as ‘real’ sports.
Rainbow wouldn’t ever say that to her, of course. She was brash, sometimes harsh, but when she had a chance to sit and think, or wasn’t pressured, she was very thoughtful. It didn’t happen often and mostly seemed to be a concession to her anyway.
That only added to the feeling that nothing about the day’s events, aside from waking up almost kissing her, suggested anything was underneath the surface of their friendship, and certainly nothing like true love. At least, not the kind that she saw between Cadance and Shining Armor. Maybe it would take more time to develop, but nothing about them suggested a common ground to start from.
Well, aside from being friends, she admitted, pressing her cheek to Rainbow’s shoulder and feeling nothing like what she imagined love should feel like. They just were, and that fact seemed to content her heart’s desire to be with people.
That, she could admit, too: she needed people, and couldn’t imagine being without now that she’d had more than a taste of what it meant to have friends.
Other things flowed through her mind, old and dusty recollections of spending time with Shining Armor as a young girl, the games they played in their backyard, the very real feeling of love she could still feel connecting them even through the distance and time since she had last seen him, and her parents, doting and understanding and always supportive.
Newer memories, too, of moments looking at her new friends in ways she wouldn’t have imagined before, wondering what they had done the day before, if they would invite her to some special gathering for friends—special gatherings that held sudden meaning to her, a sleepover, a pizza party, and now a vacation. Gatherings that were specialbecause they were with her friends, not because it was a pizza party or getting away from home.
And there was an even newer awareness of those friends in ways that would have, and still did, confuse her. She could see that they were attractive, something she had never actively looked for in the dozens of others she had spent time with during study sessions at school, or on academic competition trips, or field trips. Those few she had noticed, she had shoved aside—those feelings got in the way.
They had just been people she happened to be sharing space with, as though they were two cold atoms in the vastness of space, sharing no interaction other than at the level of the basest of scientific laws and, as such, any attraction was purely logical, predictable, and therefore avoidable.
She had gotten very good at avoiding those awkward social moments, so good at it that she couldn’t remember that she had ever done so. Or maybe she just never noticed them in the first place, intent as she had been on learning as much as she could about the world to explain the magic that she was certain was lurking somewhere in physics, and later in chemistry, and found nowhere but in her heart.
Her friends, people she shared connections with that she couldn’t explain in any logical language, were so much more, and the interactions richer, more dynamic and unpredictable than any coldly scientific study could imagine or account for. Every day was an adventure with them, tiring at times, but fulfilling and rewarding in ways she hadn’t known were possible.
She had learned more about herself in the last month with them, through the trials of practicing singing, trying to help Sunset remember scattered bits of magical theory and suggesting her own, to watching them devolve to fighting among each other, and feeling a terrible ache in her heart at seeing it. Helpless as she had felt, Sunset had helped her, and later pushed her into doing the right thing.
Later still, when she had settled into something of a routine at CHS, she had found out more about herself that she still had difficulties expressing in words or thoughts. A part of it was the attraction between two people, or more than two, that made friendships more than just sharing space and wasn’t something she could explain other than as “It’s fun to be with these people.”
But it hadn’t been until she’d woken up that morning with Rainbow so intimately entwined with her—there wasn’t any other way she could think of their tangle—that she had realized that there might be, and could be, more than just friendship that she could share with anyone.
The occasional romance movie and novel had taught her that there should be a spark there for love to happen, something that Cadance had supported conditionally, arguing that tinder had to be built up first for the spark to catch. Otherwise, she scoffed at the idea of romance movies or harlequin novels having any useful ideas on the subject.
Now, she could see the attractiveness of each of her friends in turn, and believed that she could, if given the right jolt, love them as more than friends. Except she couldn’t find a spark there, and her thoughts about Rainbow Dash didn’t turn towards romance any more than they did for any of her friends—save her worrying that she didn’t have such thoughts, and hadn’t until that morning. But that morning had been a fluke, the natural progression of events from over-exertion, joyous celebration, and the return of a magical feeling that had fascinated her for so long.
Looking at Rainbow, touching her hand, stroking a finger along her wrist, turning the friendship band of colorful seashells around and around, she didn’t feel like the touch was as special as it should be for love, or at least no more special than a close, intimate friend’s touch—and she had six friends whose touch she knew as well or better than Rainbow’s.
And what does that mean for us?
The answer to that question worried her, because she knew it already.
There isn’t any us. It’s all just… a misunderstanding? She could almost believe teenage hormones had played more than their part in events, her own wishful worrying about not feeling anything special like she saw so often at CHS, and maybe something with Rainbow Dash’s own wish for something more.
Or, she thought as the van hissed along the wet road in the wake of the storm front, maybe it’s a product of moving too quickly. After all, Shining Armor and Cadance had been dating for years, and had known each other for years before their first date—an event she had played a part in helping Cadance orchestrate.
She decided the answer was an emphatic yes. The only question then, was how to tell Rainbow she felt they were moving too fast. But it was nice, having someone warm to lean her cheek against. She could figure the rest out later, and maybe Sunset would have some insight.
“Wake me when we get back,” Twilight murmured.
“Sure thing.”
Her head slipped down to rest on Rainbow’s lap, and the last thing she remembered before fading was Rainbow’s fingers easing into the straight length of her hair and kneading her scalp while another video played on the tiny screen of her phone.
She fell asleep watching Rainbow give an interview to a shaky handheld camera.
“Twi?” The hand on her head rustled her hair, then pinched her ear. “We’re back.”
“Ow.” Twilight lifted her head from Rainbow’s lap, groaned and swatted at the hand. “I wasn’t really asleep.” And she hadn’t been, she realized. Half-remembered dreams swam through the groggy murk in her mind, of conversations half-heard or fully hallucinated, and the answers she’d given. But she still felt as rested as if she’d had a full night’s sleep.
“Oh?” Rainbow patted a wet spot on her pant-leg, grinning. “Then I suppose you don’t drool in your sleep either. You were awfully mumbly, too.”
Twilight blushed, shaking her head and rubbing away the wet spot at the corner of her mouth. “Sorry.”
“Hey, no prob. But you’d better get up.”
The van was stopped and empty, and the sun was starting to go down, just a few degrees above the line of the cliffs glimpsed through the glass-walled house.
“How long was I asleep?”
“Couple hours.” Rainbow shrugged, cheeks coloring. “We got back about two hours ago, but you looked so peaceful sleeping there that I didn’t want to wake you. And my phone took that long to recharge.”
“I asked you to wake me up when we got back.” Irritation hardened her voice into an edge.
“Yeah. But you’ve had a pretty crazy… month. I figured you could use some down-time. Rarity didn’t disagree, and neither did Fluttershy.” Rainbow shrugged again. “And… I kinda wanted to let you rest, drool and all, y’know. It felt nice, having you close like that. Besides, you can’t have slept all that well last night.” Her cheeks flamed brighter, and she rubbed at the back of her neck. “Sorry.”
“Well…” Twilight pushed aside the irrational annoyance with an effort, but it still clung to her thoughts. “I haven’t really had a chance to get my feet under me. I’m not used to things changing so much.”
Rainbow nodded, still rubbing the back of her neck.
“And I appreciate what you’re trying to do, all of you. And I love all of you for it.” Her throat tightened as she said it. There was something about the way the girls, her friends, all cared for one another in a way she’d never experienced at Star Swirl, where the top spot in academic performance was always the goal, and she had held that spot for so long that no one else had ever looked at her except as an impediment to their own success or as a tool to improve their standing—not to her knowledge, anyway.
And now…
“Hey, Twi? You okay? I’m sorry I didn’t wake you up, okay? Really.” Rainbow was watching her, brows furrowed, one hand resting on her knee, kneading lightly. “Don’t cry, okay?”
She was about to deny that she was, but when she touched her cheek, her fingers found the wet trails just forming. “Yeah,” she said through the ache in her throat. “Yeah. I’m fine. Really. Just… thinking.”
“Well, stop it. Unless it’s happy thoughts.” Rainbow shifted in her seat, winced, “Come on, let’s go inside. My butt’s asleep.”
She was immediately recruited into helping make dinner by Pinkie Pie while Rainbow Dash was dragged off to talk to Applejack, Fluttershy and Rarity in the upstairs bedroom.
“What are they talking about?” she asked.
“Oh, stuff. Like…” Pinkie shrugged and handed her a plastic squeeze tube with blue-speckled batter inside. “Well, you’ll have to ask Rarity. It was all her idea, and she told me to keep it secret.” She drew a finger across her lips and made a throwing motion.
“Oh.” It had to be about her, and she wanted to ask. Instead, she said: “Blueberry pancakes for dinner?”
“Yeah! It’s gonna be so awesome. We were supposed to have them this morning, but then the gas thing happened last night, and we had to go to Hayseed and get the gas and then we had to miss breakfast because we had to go to Hayseed to get gas…” Pinkie grinned. “It was all such a mess, and this stuff’ll go bad if we let it sit another day. Ice is almost all gone in the—Shoot! We forgot to get ice in Hayseed!”
“We were in a hurry to get back,” Twilight said automatically, and blinked, waiting for her brain to process the stream of data. A moment later, she caught up. “Can’t you tell me at least a little of what Rarity is talking to Rainbow about?”
“Well, it’s not just Rarity. It’s Fluttershy and Applejack, too.” Pinkie tapped Twilight’s nose with a finger. “I said we shouldn’t, but Rarity said we should, so I’m making dinner with you!”
“It’s about Rainbow Dash and I, isn’t it?”
Pinkie arched an eyebrow and tapped her lips. “They could be talking about super-secret Glee Club things.”
“Aren’t you the president of the Glee Club?”
“Yep! But what if it’s so secret I can’t know about it?” Pinkie splattered a generous tab of bacon fat into the pan and stirred it around. “Wait for my signal. It’s gotta be just right. Melted, but not bubbling.”
She opened her mouth, shut it again when Pinkie waggled a finger at her. It could have been something else, she supposed, and she could also actually be a pony princess, too. She snorted, waiting for Pinkie’s signal to squirt some batter into the pan. “Pinkie… can I tell you something? A secret?”
“Sure can. Now.”
“I’m not sure—”
“No, no. Batter, now.” Pinkie pointed.
“Oh.” She squeeze a dollop of batter in, added more when Pinkie rolled her hand in a ‘keep going’ motion, and stopped when it was almost the size of the pan. Pinkie didn’t stop rolling her hand. “But there’s no more room!”
“Of course there is, silly. My head’s not empty, but I’ve got lotsa room for my best friends!”
“Uh… right.” She sighed and laid the batter tube down and leaned against the counter while Pinkie poked at the edges of the pancake with a spatula. She held onto what she wanted to say, mulling it over in her mind, stopped herself, and just let her mouth say what was in her mind. It was good at that. “I don’t think I’m in love with Rainbow Dash.”
“You’re not sure you aren’t?”
“Well, no. Wait, yes. No…” Twilight ticked off a finger, sighed, and shook her head. “I haven’t really had a lot of time to get used to the idea that I might be, or that I might not be. I just… I have this feeling that this morning, what happened between us, was a mistake. Or that Rainbow wants something that I can’t give her. Or I want something she can’t give me.”
“Er… well, this might sound a little weird, but what you need to do is grab the problem by the shoulders,” Pinkie said, demonstrating on Twilight. “And tell it that you’re in charge. I’m in charge! And this pancake is way too big to flip!”
“O-okay…” Twilight glanced at the pancake, its surface bubbling, but not yet popping. “And how do you solve the problem?”
“You get someone else to help you, duh. The pancake needs to be flipped, but I can’t flip it on my own. Would you help me flip it? It’s gonna take teamwork, and coordination, and a little luck, but I think we can do it together.”
“So you’re saying I should talk to Rainbow about—”
“Come on, this pancake ain’t gonna flip itself! Bubbles are popping, it’ll get burnt!”
A minute later, a perfectly golden, blueberry speckled pancake was looking up at them, with a tab of butter melting into a smiley face sending up a waft of pure gastronomic bliss.
“So… you were saying something about Rainbow, right?”
“Yeah. But I think I’ve got it figured out.”
“Pancakes fix everything,” Pinkie said sagely, nodding.
Twilight laughed.
A few more pancakes later, all of them being kept warm with their much bigger brother, Rainbow and the other girls came back down.
“So…” Rainbow glanced back at Rarity and walked over to the far corner of the spacious all-purpose room.
Twilight followed, throwing glances at the rest of her friends huddled in quiet conversation in the kitchen area. They had been talking to Rainbow about her.
“Have you ever had a girlfriend?” Rainbow blushed, rubbed her hands together, seemed to realize what she was doing and stuffed them in her pants pockets. “Or a boyfriend?”
“N-no.” She shot another look at Rarity and Applejack. “Unless you count us.”
“I don’t think so. We’re…” Rainbow shrugged. “I don’t know what. Friends, sure. More than friends? I dunno.”
“I—” Pancakes came to mind, thoughts about making too big a mess, being unable to keep from being burned or burning Rainbow. “We’re kinda messy, right now.”
“Yeah. You could say that.” Rainbow laughed, then frowned and leaned against the wall of windows, tracing a finger around the shape of a heart. “I had a girlfriend for about a week last year. Not even really sure if I can call her that. Cloudkicker. We went on two dates. Kissed once, and I thought she was the one. You know, typical stupid kid dream, thinking that first kiss is special. And then I found out she was just experimenting. It got messy…”
Rainbow frowned, drawing an invisible slash through the heart. “I don’t want that between us, Twi. I mean, Kicker and I are friends again, now, but for a few months we couldn’t even talk to each other. Or I couldn’t. I hated her for toying with me. That was before Other You showed up. I forgave her after that… because she left us and made me realize that I didn’t know what would happen tomorrow. I didn’t want the last thing I told her to be that I didn’t want to talk to her again.”
Rainbow Dash fell silent, face a mask of unknowable emotion, hands fidgeting at her sides until she stuffed them into her pants pockets and glared over Twilight’s shoulder. Her head started to shake, but after a moment, she blushed and closed her eyes, and reached a hand up, the motion jerky and uncertain, and brushed her fingers against Twilight’s arm.
“Talk to Rarity and Applejack, or Fluttershy, or Pinkie Pie. Just don’t think about it without asking for help. You’re not alone, Twi, and they can all help you. I know what I want. But… I don’t want to influence your decision in the wrong way. You’re too… trusting of others, and I didn’t realize it.”
What she wanted wasn’t that hard to guess. Twilight shook her head. “Gullible, you mean. I know that. I’m not very socially aware.”
“No. Stop that.” Rainbow prodded her shoulder. “I meant what I said. You trust in other people’s opinions more than yourself. You’ve got no confidence, I suppose is what I’m trying to say. You need that. I’d love to help, but I don’t know how I can. Unless you’d respond well to me yelling at you like a coach.”
“Yeah, I don’t think that would work out all that well.”
With dinner gurgling in her stomach like a particularly foul chemistry experiment, Twilight tugged on her jacket and stocking cap, and stepped up close to Rainbow, one hand on her friend’s shoulder. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Rainbow only grunted in response.
“You sure about this, sugar cube?” Applejack bounced the keys to the van in her palm and glanced at Rainbow Dash, beside her, sulking silently. “I mean, if ya need to talk somethin’ out…”
“I appreciate it, really. But I need some me time. I need time to figure out what’s going on in here.” She touched her temple, then her heart. “And in here before I can talk about it.” A lie, sort of. The weight of her cell phone in her jacket pocket felt like it was obvious to everyone, but no one glanced at where it lay hidden.
“At least tell us where you’re goin’.” Applejack waggled the keys. “Sure, it’s isolated out here, and ain’t no wildlife bigger’n a rabbit, but what if you get hurt, walkin’?”
“I’m taking a flashlight with me,” she said, waving the slim cylinder. “And I promise I’ll stay in sight of the house.” While precise and true—Twilight could see the place she wanted to sit, someplace that should have been dry throughout the deluge that afternoon—it was still a good ten minutes slow drive away, up the winding track to the cliff’s head. A good half-hour’s hike, and good exercise, up the slow-winding slope.
Rainbow Dash peered up at her from the bastion of her arms, looking beetle-browed and sullen, and let out a hefty sigh. “Fine, but can I talk to you before you go?” A glance up at Applejack, a jerk of her chin, and she looked pointedly outside. “Alone.”
“Sure thing.” Applejack retreated, pocketing her keys, and tossed herself on the couch next to Rarity, who started braiding her hair without a hint of protest.
“That’s just weird,” Rainbow muttered, catching Twilight’s elbow gently and guiding her out of the house and onto the porch facing the cliff.
“Are they…”
“Dunno. If they are, they’re awful quiet about it.” Rainbow shrugged, posture tight as she leaned against the glass wall, just a few feet from where they’d talked earlier. Twilight could make out the smudge mark where Rainbow had drawn a broken heart in fog. “I think you might be thinking too much about it, us, instead of talking it out.”
“I know, Rainbow,” Twilight said, “I know you said I should talk to them. And I will. I promise. I just need…” She trailed off, word of Sunset’s distress on her lips. She wanted to tell Rainbow, and get her and her friends’ advice on that, too, but she swallowed what she wanted to say and shrugged uncomfortably.
“Then why are you going off to walk and think about it on your own? We can… I want you to really be here with us, Twi, not just off in your own world or with your nose tucked in a textbook.”
“Well, you all supervised my packing, so I don’t have any. I only have my notebook and a few small novels.” A small solace, because she couldn’t think of anything to write in it. Every time she opened it to put down her thoughts about friendship, they left. And the Daring Do novels didn’t hold any appeal in the middle of her own adventure. “I haven’t had a moment to myself since I got here, and barely any at all since I left Star Swirl. I need me time.”
“Yeah. And that’s good to have, but…” Rainbow shrugged, reached out to stroke a hand over Twilight’s shoulder, touching her neck, lips moving and words trying to come out, but after a few moments Rainbow just shrugged and folded her arms across her chest again, closing herself off. “I worry we’ll lose you, too, but you’ll be right there. That’d be worse than you just going away.”
“No. I promise that won’t happen. You all make me so happy I can’t even say. I can’t imagine a life without any of you anymore.”
“But you’re not happy! I’ve seen it. You’ve been moping since we got here. Sort of. I mean… you’ve gotten quieter since you got here, not more talkative. And you keep peering at your journal.”
“I am happy. I promise I am.” Twilight leaned forward, hesitated, eyes on Rainbow’s lips. First kiss. She ducked, instead, and pressed her cheek to Rainbow’s shoulder, drawing her arms around Rainbow’s waist and holding her close for a moment. “This is the first time I’ve really had to sit and think about things since I found all of you. Everything’s just moving so fast.”
Rainbow stiffened at the last, sighed, and planted a kiss in Twilight’s hair, hugged her briefly and let her go. “Okay. You go and think. We’ll be ready when you get back.”
Twilight nodded, stepped back, met Rainbow’s eyes, and smiled, but Rainbow was looking over her shoulder instead of at her, mouth set in a firm line. She recognized it from many stubborn moments, and angry ones.
“I didn’t mean—”
“Go, Twi. You and me, we’ll talk later, okay?” Rainbow met her eyes, then, and smiled. “Figure out what you need to, and I’ll figure out what I need to.” She jerked her head back towards the four girls watching them not very subtly.
“Okay.”
The light spilling from the house dimmed rapidly as she made for the dark gray edifice of the cliff and the faintly gleaming, lighter gray of the gravel path running up it.
The nighttime enfolded her in its cool embrace, the sky above crystalline clear without even a hint of city-glow marring the stars, the night air crisp and cool, filled with the smells of a recent rainfall. The front had swept over the cove swiftly, knocking down their badminton net and cutting runnels in the sand around the beach-house where the swiftly disappearing rain had run.
Sand squelched underfoot, and made Twilight glad of the high-top boots she’d chosen to wear for the hike, for the water was surely cold, and still formed puddles here and there where dunes—dimples in the sand, really—had not been washed away. Her flashlight was hardly needed for the several hundred feet to the beginning of the ramp, the sand smooth enough to be seen, and the few bits of driftwood that reclined so high up darkly contrasting with the pale sand.
It was, she reflected as she flicked on the light and started hiking uphill, a perfect night for stargazing.
Or for navel gazing. She sighed.
Ever since she had convinced her parents to let her transfer to Canterlot High, overcoming their protestations of prestige and standing with the simple expedient truth of ‘I’m not happy there,’ her life had become like a roller coaster. The quiet days of study in the library, the advanced physics and chemistry experiments, the simpler biology classes, were all gone. In their place, she had friends who, for better or worse, had invaded her life.
But she was happier. She couldn’t even pretend that wasn’t true. Even her brother, notorious prankster that he was, made note of it rather seriously and said he was happy for her, even if their parents were privately disappointed. Cadance had even taken her aside to talk about boys—at her parent’s pleading, she later found out, trying to find out about that Flash Sentry boy.
Cadance, marriage counselor that she was, had talked to her about more than boys, but about love in general, and what it meant in the patients she saw day in and day out.
“In everyone, love is different. It has different meanings, different ways of being expressed, and different ways of being viewed. But, for everyone, love is the same.”
She hadn’t understood that then, and she didn’t understand it anymore after having maybe fallen in love with another girl. Or fallen in crush. When she asked Cadance what it meant, Cadance smiled.
“Love is always confusing.”
“Darn right it is,” she muttered. “Even if I’m not even sure I’m in love.”
And that was a part of the problem. She loved Rainbow Dash for being such a supportive friend, who’d stood up for her in the face of Flash—
And why had he called her that afternoon? Or, Sonata had. She giggled, remembering the flustered protestations through the phone, the jumbled explanation from Sonata, and her too-serious inquiry “I am not making it worse. I’m apologizing. That can’t be worse, right?”
“Who knew,” she told a passing plant. She never would have believed two such disparate people would have gotten together if she hadn’t heard it herself. Or were they? Disparate or together, the question of whether they were either or both swirled without answer. She stopped at the flat top of a curve and looked out over the beach, the lights from the house spreading a golden glow around the sand, flickering with the light of the fireplace and the solar lights dotting the outside.
The only thing stopping her from trying to reason out the why and how of Sonata and Flash sounding so friendly was the weight in her jacket pocket, minute though it was, acting as a reminder that she had to call Sunset Shimmer. Her friend needed her more than she needed to understand.
She started up the slope again, doggedly forcing her focus on each crunching step up the dark gravel path. The gravel shone in the harsh cone of light, shimmering wetly, a warning against the misstep that would send her foot sliding over slick rocks.
Her phone felt lighter in her hand than in her pocket while she searched for a signal—duly noting the twenty-seven minutes of elapsed time on its clock—and headed for the covered picnic area tucked into a copse hidden from the road. It was still visible from the house, a place she had spied early one morning when the sun had outlined the slatted wood beams and the bench.
The rough wood had mostly rotted away, leaving only rusted steel and a mess of planks that had looked sturdier from a distance. The degree of rot and rust spoke of an age to the place that said more than Rarity’s parents and Prim Hemline before them had an interest in the cove.
“Guess I’m standing, then,” she murmured, scrolling through her contacts. The mess she would accumulate even trying to sit anywhere in the ruin would send Rarity into a fit. Maybe that was for the best. Warm front it might have been, but the mass of air that carried the storm across the plains to the coast was still early spring air, and especially chilly at night up on the edge of the cliff.
Bee-bee-bee. The trilling beep of a call connecting, then the break and hiss of the connection opening.
“Hello? Twilight?” Sunset Shimmer sounded tired even through the phone. “I’m so glad you called.”
“Hi.” What to say next trundled through her mind, lost in a maze of question and thought. “How are you?”
Sunset laughed, accompanied by a whoosh and thump. Twilight could just see her falling back into bed. “You have no idea how good it is to hear your voice. I’ve missed you.” Pause. “All of you, I mean.”
“I’ve missed you, too, Sunset. Why didn’t you come along with us?”
“Dreams,” Sunset muttered, so low Twilight almost didn’t catch it.
“Dreams? Why would you not want to come along because of dreams?”
“I didn’t want to be a humbug. They’re happy and sad at the same time, and I would have been a burden for you all to deal with me in the morning.”
“What are they about?”
“They’re about what I gave up, about home. Y’know, Equestria.” Sunset let out a loud sigh. “Winter Wrap Up is over by now, and the trees will be growing new leaves, flowers will be budding… no more stale hay or oats.”
Twilight blinked at the phone, put it back to her ear. “Right. Pony.”
Sunset’s laugh thrilled up her spine, rough, a little husky, it was a laugh she never got tired of hearing. “Yeah, pony. I miss it sometimes, you know. But human taste buds don’t think much of hay, and oats are just another cereal grain to me, now.” Like that, the laughter was gone.
“What do you miss most?” She cursed herself for not bringing her notebook and pen. She could write it all down and make sure—
“All of it. Just… my parents, the school, the sun and moon, the night sky, the city. Everything I turned my nose up at.” Sunset’s voice faded, replaced by the slow rush and muted thump of her heartbeat against the phone.
Twilight listened to the rhythmic pulse, tears in her eyes, hearing Sunset’s answer repeated in its low beat over and over again until she eased the phone away. The way she’d spoken—slow, savoring the meaning of each word, with a sigh running through it all—hurt to hear and bear it without giving Sunset a hug.
She settled for hugging herself. It wasn’t the same, or even close. “What’s home like?”
A long silence stretched out, punctuated and accentuated by the rustle of night life in the thicket around her. Finally, “It’s not important.”
The curt reply stung. “Why?”
“Leave it alone. I’m not… I can’t face that right now. The dreams are bad enough on their own.” The phone rustled and, faintly, Twilight heard a repetitive rush and thud, muffled and indistinct through the white noise silence, and realized it was Sunset’s heartbeat this time.
She pictured Sunset in her mind, and her heart ached, seeing her friend lying still, the phone’s mic pressed into her throat by tense muscles and a want for...
For what?
“Sunny,” she said slowly. “How can I help?”
The silence was shorter this time. “Just talk. Please. I need… I need you to just talk to me.”
Haltingly at first, but growing steadier as the words spilled out and the memories filled her again, she told Sunset about the vacation. She left out the parts about her journal, but told Sunset everything else: the first day, her fears about being her and not other her, singing to Rarity, her braided hair, the house maybe being sold, walking on the beach with Fluttershy. She hesitated, the hand tucked into her pocket reliving the feel of Fluttershy’s fingers in hers, and Rainbow’s rougher hand stroking her cheek—waking up with Rainbow dash atop her. Her cheeks flamed.
“Twilight?”
“I slept with Rainbow Dash.” It came out, blurted, and Twilight slapped a hand over her mouth.
“What!” Sunset’s voice faded into incoherence a moment before the phone thumped, bumped and went dead.
“Stupid mouth!” She stared at the phone, wondering if she should call back, or if Sunset didn’t want to talk to her. A moment later, as if in answer to her fear, her phone rang.
“H-hello?”
“Sorry. Dropped the phone. Now, repeat what you just said.” Sunset’s voice crackled through the phone like the staccato beat of a drum, commanding, demanding.
“I-I fell asleep with Rainbow Dash.”
“That’s not what you said. You didn’t—”
“No!” Her cheeks were on fire and she wanted to hang up, but she dared not. “No… She fell asleep leaning on me. When we woke up, she was on top. S-she had her hand in my pajamas. But not creepy like that… she thought they were her PJs.”
“Uh-huh.” Sunset made a sucking noise, her thoughtful pose popping into Twilight’s head, chewing on her lower lip, head cocked to one side. “And then?”
“We woke up. Everyone laughed… and I think I might be dating Rainbow, now.”
“You think,” Sunset said dryly. “You think you might be dating someone. You’re not sure.”
Twilight told her, haltingly, and with many prods, about the talk she’d had with Rainbow in the morning, with her face inches from the other girl’s, and later in the van. At the end of it, she said, “I don’t know if I love her or not. There might be, but I don’t know if we’re… y’know, compatible with each other. School and learning are so important to me, and not so much sports and winning.”
“Yeah. I wouldnt’ve pegged you two as an item. Or even potentially. I mean, you’ve both got that drive, but…” Sunset’s shrug came through the phone inaudibly. “So… what are you going to do?”
“I have no idea. I mean, what if it’s a crush? But I don’t think it is. Crushes are—” She had no experience with crushes, she realized, and stopped.
Sunset picked up in a soft tone, “You can’t stop thinking about the other person, dream about them, and whenever they smile at you, it’s like the burdens of the world are a little lighter, but you can’t tell them because…” She trailed off, groaning. “Yeah. I don’t think you’re crushing on Rainbow, either. So why’d you think it might be?”
“Well, I got a call from Flash. He said something about crushes.”
“That guy?” Sunset snorted. “He’s not puppy-dogging after you anymore, is he?”
“I don’t think so. You two used to date, right?”
“I used him,” Sunset said quietly. “That’s different.”
“He called to apologize.” Twilight glanced at the bench again, decided to risk it, and sat down. The cold, rotten wood bled through her pants immediately, but her feet stopped aching. “Well, him and Sonata. Didn’t you go to see them?”
“Yeah.”
Twilight waited a long count of three for more. “And?”
“Adagio’s a bitch. Capital B. Aria’s not much better, and Sonata just kinda… wasn’t even there.” Sunset sighed again. Twilight waited, trying to think of more to say, and trying to find a comfortable way to sit with the feeling of soaked jeans pressed against her rear. Sunset continued after a long wait, “So, Flash and Sonata. How’d they sound?”
“Cheerful. Sonata… she seemed earnest, but a little off somehow, I dunno. I just remember her seeming to actually enjoy all the music, even Snips and Snails. Y’know, when she wasn’t trying to steal our souls—”
“Magic, Twi. They just wanted the magic that comes from disharmony.”
“Oh. Well, Flash, I think, just wanted to apologize for what he said under their control.” She stood up again, brushed off her butt with one hand, and kicked away some creeper grass from the concrete foundation. “They were both laughing at the end, I think. They sounded good, together, and he didn’t seem to hate her.”
“Weird. Flash isn’t one to let go of a grudge easy when he’s been the one hurt.” Sunset’s rueful grin came through the phone. “Trust me. I know. So… Flash and Sonata. Friends. I wonder what her sisters will think of that…”
With no idea what to say next, Twilight studied the small space she’d cleared on the ground, sighed, and sat amid the bracken left over. The silence stretched out, her mind blank, and she wished for a phone cord to twiddle around her finger. She settled for fiddling with the drawstring on her hoodie.
“If you don’t love her, let her know,” Sunset said finally, her voice barely audible through the phone.
“How? Just tell her ‘I don’t think this is going to work’ and hope for the best?”
“Well, yeah. Don’t just mess around with her, be upfront and honest. I mean, you said she didn’t know either, right?”
“Yes. But… she wants there to be something.” It felt uncomfortable, thinking that she might let one of her best friends down, someone who might love her. “Won’t it hurt her? More… I mean. I think… Maybe I said too much. I think she knows.”
“Maybe, if she’s already crushing on you.” Sunset’s voice trailed off. “I could actually see that, kinda. You know she has a crush on Spitfire, right?”
“But she’s ten years older!”
“Heh. Yeah, but Rainbow’s idolized her since foalhood—childhood. And besides, crushes don’t care about measly things like age and spec-specifics like that.”
Twilight blinked at the odd slip of the tongue. “That doesn’t make a lot of sense.”
“Eh… Crushes rarely do. But my point is that you need to think about you, too, Twilight. What do you want? What will make you happy? Because I can guarantee that if you aren’t happy, she won’t be either, in the long run.”
She thought about it for a long moment, listening to Sunset breathing quietly—or was it the feedback of her own breath, or the wind? “I don’t know what I want,” she said at last.
“Well, you’d better figure it out. The more you delay, the more it’s going to hurt both of you if the answer is no.”
“I wish you were here.” Almost, she felt Sunset smile through the phone, and closed her eyes to feel the warmth of the streak of light connecting them. It felt stronger, as though talking to Sunset were some magnifying glass.
“Yeah, me, too.” The wistful note in Sunset’s voice hurt to hear, but if faded as she sighed. “But I can’t. Mr. and Mrs. Peach decided to take their yearly vacation a little early, and asked if I could look after their animals.” Twilight could have sworn the short pause was a shrug. “I said yes. What else was I gonna do? You guys were away for the week. And…” The light faded minutely as she trailed off into the same murmuring beat rising just above the hissing connection.
Twilight opened her eyes, letting go of the vision of light before it weakened even more. “And you thought you could handle being alone for a few days.”
“Well, I thought I’d be spending more time with the Dazzlings, y’know getting to know an old foe like y’all did… like they did for me. But that fell through.” Sunset’s rueful chuckle crackled over the connection. “Guess I couldn’t as well as I thought. But I think hearing a friendly voice should keep me going for a few more days.”
“But what… Sunny, what hurt you so much? Just being lonely?”
Silence hummed over the connection.
“Sunny?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Can’t, or won’t?”
More silence followed, and a sense of drawing back that she couldn’t place the reason for feeling.
“Please, Twilight. Just let it go. I-I should be okay, now. I’m glad you called.”
It was clearly the end of the conversation, and the silence hung for a long moment, but Twilight still didn’t know what had set Sunset off, what had hurt her so much she had to reach out. Dreams about home, she could understand, but why had Sunset decided not to tell the others? She still didn’t know why.
She was tired of not knowing why.
“That’s it? Thanks for calling, glad to hear from you, and now I’m fine?” Twilight stared at the phone for a long second, irrationally angry, and knowing she was being irrational but unable to help it. “Sunset, you had me worried all day today! I was worried you were lying to keep me satisfied that you were okay.” She choked, her fingers tightening on the phone until she heard the plastic case creak. “Sunny, you scared me!”
“Whoa, whoa! What? No, I never meant to make you worry. I know you’ve been stressed.” The phone rustled again, and Sunset’s voice came through clearer, halting at first. “I-I just wanted to hear your voice, Twilight. I’m sorry I worried you. I just wanted to hear a friendly voice that didn’t neigh or nicker or just ignore me and take the apple out of my hand without another glance.”
“You thought the horses would be enough,” she said flatly.
“Yeah. Pony, right?” Sunset laughed shakily. “Some kinda rapport, or something. I mean, I get along better with them than the Peaches do, and they’ve had Molly and Jessup for nearly a decade. And they’re smarter than most people here give them credit for.”
“So why did you text me? Why not call?” The anger faded to a simmer in her head, and she relaxed her grip on the phone, fingers aching. “Why me?”
“Because…” Sunset trailed off. “I trust you.”
“And you don’t trust our friends?”
“N-no! That’s not it at all! It’s the dreams. They’re not just dreams of home.” The phone seemed to hum with tension, and Twilight pressed her ear to it. “They’re dreams about all of them, too, and I can’t get them out of my head.”
She let the silence linger, not wanting to ask, wanting Sunset to tell her without prompting.
Sunset didn’t make her wait long, and the sound she made through the phone—almost a whimper—set off a pang in Twilight’s chest, but Sunset started talking again before she could do or say anything.
“I was afraid of what they’d say if they knew I was talking to you, what you might think of what they said. In the dreams, the other girls don’t like me all that much. Rainbow Dash hates me, and Rarity still dislikes me for what I did to her. I’m always there in the room, invisible, when they talk about me. Applejack blames me for everything that went wrong during the Battle of the Bands. Pinkie and Fluttershy… Pinkie said she wouldn’t throw me a birthday party even if it was the last party on earth, and Fluttershy says things to me…” Her voice was breaking apart at the end of it.
“That’s what the dreams are. In my heart, I know they’re false, but they stick with me, and I can’t forget them. I look at the girls at school and I see the dreams again, I hear what they say about me.” Sunset snuffled loudly. “I hate it! I can’t tell them, I couldn’t tell you because you might think I was crazy. But the you in the dreams isn’t you. It’s Other Twilight. She tells me that Princess Celestia would throw me in a deep, dark dungeon if I ever came back, or banish me to the moon. But I know it’s not you. You never say anything to me in the dreams. That’s why—”
The rush of words halted abruptly, leaving Sunset’s heavy breathing on the other side of the connection the only sign she was still there.
Twilight felt like she’d been punched, and could only listen to the hissing connection, the active nightlife, processing what her friend was saying, and hardly able to believe it—but knowing that Sunset wasn’t lying. She just knew it in her heart.
“I have to wonder, every time they help me, how much of what they do is because they feel like they owe something to Other Twilight. All because of stupid, stupid dreams!” A heavy, muffled whump came through the phone, followed by a muffled scream and, clearer: “I hate this! I just want to enjoy being with all of you.”
“Sunny…” Twilight’s thoughts leapt to magic. The dreams Sunset was suffering might be some kind of magical malady, maybe even Equestrian homesickness. Or maybe it was stress. Sunset was at least as academically inclined as she, and the lack of wholly valid credentials in the human world had to be working against her chances at higher learning.
Or it was simple doubt working against her instead.
“I wondered the same thing, you know,” Twilight said. She leaned back against the rotted bench seat, shrugged against it, and tried to compose her thoughts. “I had to wonder how much of what they saw in me came from Other me. You should have come with us, Sunny. I’ve seen that it’s not so much that. They really do love me for me, and I’m sure they love you for you, too.”
“And you?” It was barely a squeak through the phone. “Even after the trouble I put you through today? For such a stupid thing.”
“Of course! And it’s not stupid, Sunny.” She lifted a hand to her heart, feeling the ache, reliving the earlier panic. “It sounds serious, Sunset. What if the dreams are something more than just worries of your own? What if it’s…” Better to leave speculation for later, when she had time to write in her journal. What anger she had left drifted away, leaving her mind empty of everything but an ache settling between her eyes. “Never mind that. They like you, too. All of us were disappointed when you didn’t come.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes. You have no idea how much I was looking forward to calling you, and how much I hated having to keep it from them.” Twilight sighed, glanced at the time. She’d been talking to Sunset for almost two hours. “I need to go back to the beach house soon, and there’s no signal there. Can I tell them?”
There was no answer for a long time, and all Twilight heard was Sunset’s ragged breathing through the phone, muffled sniffles making her heart ache, and Sunset’s face clear in her mind, streaked with tears.
Finally, she got her answer: “Yes.”
She made one more call before leaving the refuge, after urging Sunset to sleep, and staring at Cadance’s number, she called it. Straight to voicemail. Right, she was with Shining at some conference in Whinneapolis.
“Hi! You’ve reached Cadance—and Shining Armor—leave a message after the beep.”
“Hey, Cady. I just wanted to let you know that I know what you meant about love being confusing, now. I can’t wait—well, I can, but I want to talk to you so badly. I’ll call you again after Spring Break, okay? Bye.”
She checked the time again, approaching ten-thirty. One last look down at the house showed the exterior lights were all off, and only the flicker of a dying fire danced in the darkest shadows not lit by the moon.
The walk down the incline passed faster than she wanted, with Sunset’s plight, her loneliness, whirling through her thoughts. It made her wonder if she had been lonely all those years when her sole focus had been her studies and, occasionally, her family and, even less occasionally, Cadance.
Another flashlight blinked on as she got lower, and the door opened. Rainbow Dash stood framed against the smattering of firelight flickering through the windows, waving.
If she had been lonely before, she decided, it was in the past, and no matter anymore.
“That was some walk,” Rainbow said, lowering the light and clicking it off when Twilight got in earshot. “You walk all the way to Canterlot and back?” She was grinning, but it faded when Twilight got closer.
“No.” She walked up to Rainbow and switched off her flashlight, too, seeking comfort in the darkness and the other girl’s embrace. “I… talked to Sunset Shimmer. About us and about her. Rainbow…” The way she should say it eluded her, and she chewed on her lip for a moment.
“Well, good for you. But what about her?” Rainbow pulled her closer. “I thought that was all taken care of. Like, didn’t she say she was with—”
“She lied.” There, she’d said it, and with the admission, she stepped away from Rainbow. “She’s not doing well, and we need to help her.”
“…and she told me I could tell all of you.” Twilight opened her notebook to the place she had kept flipping to all night, restless in her sleeping bag, conscious of Rainbow sleeping beside her, but in her own bag.
The rest of them kept watching her as she flipped past the last filled page in her notebook and laid her pen along the groove. They had been quiet throughout the recounting of what Sunset Shimmer had told her about the dreams, the tale resounding in her head all throughout the long night.
Twilight slid her fingers over the blank page, tracing the impressions of doodles across the top from left to right until her finger rested on the last. Sunset Shimmer’s face in profile, distinct for her wildfire hair and the stubborn point of her nose, strong jawline, and piercing stare. She remembered the moment she’d captured it from, during history class: Sunset looking forward, pencil scribbling out notes with barely a glance at her notebook. Those bright azure eyes focused on a history that must have been as foreign to her as Equestria’s was to Twilight.
She rubbed a finger over the grooves left by her pen and almost turned the page back one to look at the actual doodles, shaded, but with no colors. She shook her head and drew her hand back from the page with a sigh, and looked up to take in her five friends.
Dawn’s golden light spilled over them, interrupted by long shadows creeping across the table. Applejack had an arm thrown behind Rarity’s shoulders on the sofa, a mug of tea steaming on the table in front of them. Fluttershy covered a yawn behind her forearm where she sat, legs folded, behind them on the loveseat.
Beside her, Rainbow Dash held her other hand below the table, and Pinkie Pie sprawled out on the couch, her chin resting on Twilight’s other shoulder. Six mugs, two ceramic and four spotted white and blue enameled steel, sat on the glass table.
Her own mug, a white ceramic one with ‘World’s Best Mom’ stenciled on it, sat cold with only a little bit of brackish-brown coffee left at the bottom. She jerked her eyes from tracing the words and brought herself back to attention.
“That’s pretty much all there is to tell,” she said into the silence. She had left out nothing, and the revelation of all felt like she had carved out a portion of herself, but she didn’t feel hollow. The ache of the night before had been taken away, and she wasn’t yet sure what had replaced it—neither warm nor cold. “I can guess what might be causing them, and I’m probably wrong. What I know is that she’s hurting, and lonely.”
Pinkie, laying behind her, rested a hand on her shoulder. “She had you to talk to. That’s good.”
Rarity raised her mug and took a sip, shuddered, and passed it to Applejack, who wrinkled her nose and pushed it away. Twilight saw her hair was still braided, though loosely, and her Stetson sat neatly squared atop her head, both of her ears visible for once.
“Yes, she did. I wish she had trusted us enough to—” Rarity winced. “Well, I suppose the dreams were all about that, weren’t they? Vicious cycle, that.”
“Yep.” Pinkie let out a sigh. “I already have her birthday party planned, too.”
“When?” Twilight asked.
“May third, her sixteenth. Say, that’s just a couple weeks before yours, isn’t it? Wow, coincidence!”
Twilight blinked at Pinkie. “She’s sixteen?” She’s my age? Why did I think she was older?
“A-huh. Fluttershy’s the only one of us who’s older by much, but that’s because she was a summer baby and her parents held her back a grade.”
Across the table, Fluttershy blushed and started to shrink back, but when everyone turned to look at her, she straightened, resting a hand on Applejack’s shoulder. “I-I’m glad they did. It means I’m not going to college alone. But… what are we going to do for Sunset? We can’t just leave her alone like that.”
“Nope.” Applejack reached up to pat Fluttershy’s hand and, with a glance at Rarity, settled the hand back into the its owner’s lap. “I think you should call her every day. Let ‘er know we’re all here. Heck. We can make it an evening thing. Drive up to the cliff, put her on speaker, and we all talk to her.”
“But she needs hugs!” Pinkie tapped Twilight’s head. “She needed hugs, too. And you can’t hug over the phone.”
“Not that you don’t try, Pinks,” Rainbow said, grinning.
“I agree,” Twilight said. “I wanted to hug her so badly when I was talking to her. I think she would like that.”
“I would agree, excepting a few not so small things.” Rarity glanced at Applejack. “We can’t just leave. Mr. Turnip Truck didn’t say when he’d be able to come by the house. He said a day, maybe two. And, as much as I’d love a warm shower, I can’t leave until it’s taken care of! Do you know how much money it’s costing my parents to refill the tank? If we don’t get this taken care of, my parents might think we don’t have the fortitude to take care of things. They might sell the house because they believe it would be better off in someone else’s hands.” Her eyes flicked to each face in the room, settling on Twilights before returning to her hands folded on the table in front of her. “And I’m not sure they’d be wrong.”
That threw a further silence over the living room. Twilight looked up from contemplating her hand twined with Rainbow’s, and drew hers free.
Rainbow drew hers back into her lap, offering a smile. “I don’t see why we can’t take the van back, drop in to see her, and come right back. With her in tow if need be.”
“She can’t. Remember?” Applejack tapped a finger on the table. “She’s got to take care of the animals on the farm.”
“Oh. Right.” Rainbow sighed. “So… drop one or two of us off, like Twi and me.”
“That’s at least ten hours when there’s no transport here. What if there’s an emergency? Remember, there’s no cell reception here. And we don’t know when Turnip’s gonna come ‘round. I never could pin him down on an exact time. Just: ‘Before the weekend.’ I didn’t think I’d need to try and pin him down.”
“AJ, can you stop pokin’ holes in my plan?”
“I don’t see why my idea can’t work. Call her every night. Every morning too, if you want. It’s just three more days.”
“That’s three days with only horsie hugs!” Pinkie flicked a finger at Applejack. “Horsies are nice, but they’re not people hugs.”
“I quite agree with Pinkie Pie,” Rarity said. “But I can’t let the house go. Not if I have any chance to convince my parents to let us keep it. And Applejack is right, too. I won’t let anyone stay here without some way to deal with an emergency.”
“What could even happen?”
“Storms. Or have you forgotten yesterday? I’ll just bet our weather radio was going off the charts.”
Rainbow Dash subsided, sighing. “Fine. You have a point.” She tapped a finger on the table. “But I still think we need to do more than just call her.”
“I agree!” Pinkie tapped Twilight’s head again. “And Twilight needs to give her a hug!”
Twilight sighed and lifted her head. “I want to. But I also think Applejack and Rarity have a point.” She picked up the pen from underneath the cover and clicked it. Options she had considered the night before seemed to glow on the page, beckoning her to trace them and make them real. Or that was the lack of sleep talking, combined with too much instant coffee.
She touched her pen to the start, took a deep breath, and started. “One. Sunset is hurting, and she needs our help.” Purpose rose up inside her as she wrote, and pleasure at seeing her hands were steady, her lettering precise. “Two. We need to refill the propane tanks here. Three, we need to have means to deal with emergencies here. Four… We need a way to get there.” She sighed and tapped her pen on the page. Of all the options she had considered, only one had seemed viable in the middle of the night. “Flash Sentry.” She wrote his name down.
“What?” Rainbow sat upright.
“You can’t be serious,” Rarity said.
“But he had a crush—” Rainbow shut her mouth over the rest with an audible click of teeth. “You aren’t… thinking?”
“No. I’m not. I… Rainbow, I’m pretty sure I’m…” Twilight took a deep breath, let it out, lowered her eyes for a moment, and lifted them to meet those of each of her friends. “No. I’m almost certain I’m…” The idea was so new, that she had a sexual identity at all outside of the clinical acknowledgement that she would figure it out someday. Trying to say it felt like standing up in front of class and announcing her science project was to calculate the exact value of π. Ridiculous, but serious at the same time.
And her answer might be the equivalent of saying ‘π is exactly three.’
“Twilight, darling, whether you’re gay or straight or bisexual has no meaning to us.” Rarity kicked her foot out to brush Twilight’s knee. “We love you, no matter.”
Twilight nodded, sighed, and sat back. Pinkie kissed the top of her head, and Rainbow patted her leg. She pushed the question aside again, focusing instead on the four points in front of her. “Four. Flash Sentry.”
“Why him? Why not your brother? I like him. Or… or…” Rainbow twiddled her fingers in the air, as though snatching at ideas.
“I thought about that last night, and tried to come up with some alternatives.” She sketched out a quick map of the country and started marking down names. “Shining Armor and Cadance are way up in Whinnyapolis.” Twilight tapped the end of the pen on Pinkie’s head. “Her parents are taking Maud to look at the geology program out in Manehattan.” She pointed the pen at Rarity. “Your parents are…”
“Having themselves a staycation while Sweetie Belle spends the week with Apple Bloom and Scootaloo at Applejack’s. They won’t rouse themselves long enough to drive out here unless there’s a real emergency.” She winced. “Not that Sunset’s dilemma isn’t an emergency, but there aren’t sirens and flashing lights and fire trucks for a friendship emergency.”
“Maybe there should be,” Pinkie said, her voice thoughtfully quiet.
“Be that as it may, Pinkie, I don’t blame them. Sweetie Belle runs me ragged when my parents are gone. So, I’m glad to let them rest until and unless there’s a real fire-and-brimstone emergency.”
“And Big Mac won’t leave. He’s makin’ sure that nothin’ fiery or brimstoney happens out at the farm. Considering there’s a cookout scheduled…” Applejack muttered something under her breath. Rarity giggled.
“My parents only own an electric,” Fluttershy added. “It would never make it this far.”
“And my dad… and you.” Rainbow touched Twilight’s shoulder, letting her hand drop. “Yeah. I don’t want to open that can of worms with him again.” She sighed.
“I thought he was fine with you being a lesbian,” Applejack said.
“He is. He just doesn’t like it when drama happens. My dad likes his quiet.” She grinned. “To be fair, he’d be the same way if I had any interest in boys at all. Except, you know, um, more ‘Dad Mad!’ like Saddlerager.”
“And I don’t want to open that can with my parents again, either. Boy or girl. That whole WhoTube fiasco had me under close scrutiny for almost six months! My parents thought I was lying through my teeth, to them, to the police, to insurance investigators… I got placed on academic probation for three weeks! That’s never happened to me before.” She sighed, ticking off fingers. “Curfew, chaperoned everywhere, my phone checked every day, and I’m lucky my parents don’t know you can erase browsing history without leaving a trace…” It had been a mess, and Twilight still shuddered to think of the questions her parents, and Cadance, had asked her. Not again. Twilight circled Flash’s name. “He’s got a car. He’s nice.”
“And he’s got a crush on you!”
“Not on me.” Twilight shook her head and tapped the pen against the page. “On other me. We don’t even know if she would reciprocate. What if she’s like me? We’re so alike in other ways.”
“You mean gay?” Applejack shared a glance with Rainbow. “I mean, I don’t know what… I mean, er, ponies. Y’know?”
“She’s not a ponysexual, silly. That’s not even a thing.” Rarity sighed and rolled her eyes. “She means she, Other Twilight, may be bisexual. Or straight and curious. Or, yes, a lesbian. It doesn’t matter, and it wouldn’t matter to me one whit if any, or all of you, ended up liking girls. Or boys. Or ponies!” Her lips quirked upwards in a wry smile. “That last might be a little odd.”
Applejack held Rarity’s gaze for a moment longer, let out a sigh, and nodded. “Yeah. I guess you’re right. It doesn’t matter.” She opened her mouth, glanced across at Twilight, shook her head, and her lips compressed into a tight line, her cheeks heated.
What’s that about? Twilight studied her friend across the table for a long moment, but Applejack’s eyes stayed fixed on the side of Rarity’s head. Figure it out later.
“I’d like to get back on track.” She tapped Flash’s name again and circled it again, then underlined it. “Unless anyone has any better suggestions, or knows someone—” Twilight glanced at Pinkie.
“Nah. Most of the cool kids with cars are off doing stuff this week. Like us. We’re cool kids.”
“Then I think we need to discuss what else needs doing.”
Applejack lifted a hand. “I’d like ta wait until at least noon. Or evening. Give Turnip some time to get his act together, give us a chance to get things squared away here. There’s still a lot of dishes yet, and a goodly amount of cleanin’ up to do. Badminton net, gotta find our frisbees, that beach ball Pinkie sat on. And our clothes and the bedroom upstairs. Ain’t sure if y’all noticed, but it’s kinda a mess.” She tapped the table once for each item, levelling a look at Rainbow for the final one. “If he ain’t come by the time we get that all straightened up, then sure, let’s give Flash a shot, but I’d rather us all go than just two of us.”
Twilight halted herself from immediately retorting, closed her mouth, and considered. Five hours, four hundred miles each way. As much as she would like to be there immediately, a ten hour turnaround in the best case meant immediately had a very different meaning from ‘right now.’ She sighed, nodded, and sketched out a star next to Flash’s name. “Alright. Early afternoon would be best, I think.”
“And if he says no?” Rainbow reached out to tap his name on the paper. “We don’t exactly have a whole lotta options, and I really doubt Rarity’s parents would enjoy paying for a taxi all the way back.”
“Four hundred miles on cab fare rates? Round trip? Heavens no. I’d never see the outside of the house or school again!”
“Then we figure out something else.” Her pen drifted to Canterlot and the tiny names of her parents. “If it comes down to it, my parents don’t need to know about what happened this weekend. I think we can cover it up. At least until I’m ready.” To tell them I’m… what? I don’t even know. Her body had responded to Rainbow’s nudity, and that meant something, and her mind kept insisting on bringing it up.
A biological response does not imply a matching emotional connection, she told herself. Please stop muddying an already muddy issue, brain. Except she did feel an emotional connection, and her heart swelled whenever Rainbow smiled at her. Just like it did for all of her friends, each one a special bolt of color racing through her. She sighed and looked up, realizing everyone was watching her.
Rainbow touched her leg, but Twilight shook her head, folded Rainbow’s fingers in hers, and pulled them away. Rainbow nodded, smiling, and withdrew.
“Parents as a last resort,” she said, writing it out.
“If it comes to that, you’d best not plan on having Rainbow along.” Applejack chuckled and tossed a grin across at the other girl. “Your parents’d know about your first kiss before you did.”
“T-that was an accident!” Rainbow jabbed a retaliatory finger back. “I didn’t mean to text him! That was meant for CK!”
“Look before you text, darling. Cardinal rule of clandestine romance over cell phones.” Rarity gave Rainbow a sly smile and got a glare in return.
Rainbow huffed, cheeks burning cherry, and buried her face between Twilight’s shoulder and the couch cushion
“Let’s hope for Flash,” Twilight said wryly. She reached up to stroke the back of Rainbow’s neck, froze when the warmth spread along her fingers, and continued, gently massaging until her friend lifted her head, huffed, glared at Rarity, and settled back down. “But we have to call him first. Does anyone have his cell—”
“Yep! One sec…” Pinkie was already flipping through her phone’s contacts.
“—phone “
“I’m not surprised in the slightest.” Rarity giggled. “I’m sure Pinkie has Principal Celestia on speed-dial.”
“Number forty-two!”
Twilight threw herself into cleaning, and managed to organize the upstairs bedroom, have everything folded, sorted by color and whose clothes they were on the bed before noon. She had faltered with Rainbow’s boxers and panties, but managed to ignore the fact she was touching them long enough to settle them under a shirt smelling of stale sweat and the cleaner salt of the ocean.
Rainbow and Applejack took down the net outside and hunted down the various bits of bracken left over from their outdoor fun while Rarity and Fluttershy set the kitchen back to rights.
By the time they were all done, the sun was high overhead, casting the main room in a pure light that gleamed off polished wood and stone, and made even the fireplace appear clean despite the new layer of ash in it.
Rainbow Dash came back in to take a nap, throwing an arm over her eyes.
Twilight, sitting on the stairs and watching a scudding shadow pass by on the beach, found her eyes flicking back to Rainbow, then to Applejack sitting at the kitchen table, also watching Rainbow doze, her lips pursed in a thoughtful expression while she nursed a sweating water bottle. Then her eyes would drift back to the shadow when she realized she was staring.
And all through, Twilight’s thoughts came back to what her sexuality meant to her. What her orientation meant to her plans for the future, and what she could do about them.
When she watched Rainbow, especially asleep, studying what she could see of her friend’s sharply planed face, watching the rise and fall of her chest and stomach, she felt around inside her for what it was exactly that drew her eyes. Rainbow was attractive—she couldn’t deny that, nor did she want to—and it set something in her stomach aching to touch and explore. She wanted to—
She bit her lip, using the pain to distract herself, and drew thoughts back into orderly lines, focusing not on what she wanted but what what she wanted meant.
She drew up, too, images from her anatomy textbooks and the pictorial guide to gender and sexuality that Cadance had given to her to supplement SSA’s sex-ed classes. Pictures of men at various ages from young adult to elderly, their anatomy in various poses and states. The women, too, she recalled, in the same ages, their anatomy on display just as much as the men’s.
The men… were an interesting data-point, she decided, but none of them had stirred more than an academic interest in anatomy. The women were the same, or had been. Even now, she couldn’t really see those images as more than just interesting bits of anatomical data, as they had been expressed. She didn’t know the women in those photos, didn’t know if they shared her same intellectual curiosity, or if she could have been friends with them at some point.
Her eyes kept betraying her to stare at Rainbow’s rising and falling chest, drifting to the strong lines and curves of a bare calf thrown carelessly over the back of the couch. And within her, uncovered by her contemplative silence and the reaching, she felt a warmth that she might kindle to a flame if she just called back…
She shook her head and closed her eyes resolutely, leaning her head against the railing.
The pictorial had been just that, pictures of anatomy, with only a brief glossary in the back giving her information she had long before gleaned for herself from other sources, but the definition was clear and concise. And the definition that pertained most to who she was…
Lesbian - a woman whose sexual attraction is limited to other women.
The suggestion was simultaneously freeing and terrifying.
Terrifying that she suspected with a ninety percent accuracy that she was correct, that she would have to confront it at some point with those she loved. Aside from the six friends whom, she was certain, would not care if she declared her love for a moon goddess from another dimension.
Freeing because her carefully scripted life-plan had taken a sudden turn into the odd world of friendship and romance. Terrifying, too, stepping out into that unknown and unknowable world where the variables and formulae for making plans were themselves mysteries she had yet to solve. If her near certainty turned to certainty, perhaps that might solve some of them.
Terrifying again at the thought of admitting it to others. Her friends wouldn’t mind, but an unreasonable fear that speaking it aloud would be telling everyone, everywhere, all at once. As soon as she dismissed that fear as ridiculous, it became the fear that admitting it would change some indefinable part of her and everyone would know when they looked at her. That, she couldn’t dismiss as easily.
What if I do act differently? That thought, a fear in itself, led to another: But I already know. Don’t I? Doesn’t knowing have the same effect as telling?
She lifted her head at last, fears and counter-arguments running rampant through her mind, still muddled with cross-wired thoughts and mishmashes of other internal arguments. She spent a long, silent moment looking over the open room below, squinting against the glare. Her friends were all resting after the frenzy of activity, and she knew that she would not have to face the unknown alone.
The fears subsided as her eyes adjusted to the light again, and she watched them all relaxing in the pure light of a beautiful day. They had taken her with them, almost a stranger, and loved her unquestioningly. The had shown her the way to a world she had been ignorant of.
This may not be the last vacation they ever took together, but it was the last she would feel uncertain of her place with them.
She loved all of them, even the one not present, and she couldn’t allow her friends to face their own journeys alone.
Her eyes met Applejack’s, and she stood.
The drive up the incline in the early afternoon passed slowly, just as the rest of the day had. The trees and rock formations along the side of the road looked different from the passenger seat, and Twilight held her phone in her lap, the blue charge light winking on and off. Neither phone nor geology held her attention for long.
Her thoughts kept twisting out of control. From the house to Rainbow and their situation, to Sunset and hers, back to uncertainty about her sexuality and then back around again to the house and her last vacation as the girl she had once been: naive, closeted, and as uncertain about her own social standing as she now was about her orientation.
Was I really naive when I came here?
A new question to ponder, but easier to answer: No. Her naivety had wilted in the bloom of friendship and finding out that there was a much larger world that her schoolbooks, and even the fiction she read, had even hinted at. Almost, she could feel the flower paradigm of her ignorance ready to wilt completely and fall from its bush.
“You were awful quiet after the, er, Council of Friendship is what Pinkie’s callin’ it.” Applejack smiled as she said it and she pulled the van to a stop. “You okay?”
Twilight still hadn’t decided on what she wanted to say. Either to Rainbow Dash or her friends. “Yes. Mostly.” She pulled up her contact list again and scrolled down to the newest entry.
Flash Sentry. She sighed, looking aside at Applejack. “I could have walked up here.”
“Yeah. You could’ve.” Her friend gave her a sidelong glance. “But then it’d be another three hours before we heard back. And I think you still need to talk to someone about Rainbow.”
“I know.” She gripped her phone tighter, glancing at the signal meter. Three bars. “I should have talked to her after we finished cleaning and packing, but she took a nap.”
“Eh, you know she woulda woken up for you. Maybe.” Applejack shrugged. “It takes time to figure things out. Sometimes, it helps to talk em out, too, with friends who’ve got an outside perspective.” She glanced at the phone, tapped her fingers on the steering wheel, and nodded. “Go ahead and call.”
She did. Silence. Connecting. Suddenly, she wondered if the tower she had called from the night before had been on her service, or if her parents would be wondering in a few weeks time at the massive, two hour roaming charge from the middle of the night.
“I still think you should give it some time, call her again tonight, keep up with it.” Applejack shrugged and shut off the van. “But I understand, and I wish we could all just pack it up and go see her.”
Twilight shook her head and listened to the hum and chime of the connection tone, then the ring, cut off halfway through.
“Hello? Wait, Twilight?” There was a rustling noise. “Hold on. I’ve got you on my second line.”
The phone went silent. She blinked at it. The call was still connected. She glanced aside at Applejack, shrugged, and put the phone back to her ear.
“Sorry. What’s up?” A car’s engine growled in the background.
“Well… I’d like to ask a favor. A big favor.”
“Seems to be the day for that.” He sighed loudly. “What is it?”
“I… we need to have you pick me up and take me to Sunset’s house.”
Applejack rolled her eyes and leaned against the steering wheel.
“Sure. When? Is she okay? Where should I pick you up?” The eagerness in his voice hurt to hear, and she almost called it off as a bad idea. Sunset’s sobbing through the phone stopped her.
“We’re not in Canterlot.” She let that sink in, waited for the followup. Ease him into it.
“Um… what? Where are you?”
“Yeah, we’re out on the coast, about five hours distant by a little town called Hayseed.”
Silence on the line.
“The coast.” He made something like a choking noise. “You want me to drive out to the coast, five hours away, and then drive back. You do realize it will be the middle of the night when we get back, right?” A pause. “If I decide to even help you.”
“Um… yes?”
“Do you even know how big of a favor that is?”
“Kinda big, isn’t it?”
He barked a laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s pretty big. Look, I’ve got to help… a friend. Let me think about it and I’ll get back to you.” He sighed. “Give me an hour, tops, and I’ll call you back. I promise.”
“Thanks.” The line went dead.
“He’s coming?”
“He’s going to think about it, he said. He’ll call me back later… so I can’t really leave. You don’t have to stay.”
“Nah. I’m fine. ‘Sides, Rarity said she wanted to talk to Rainbow some more.” She turned a look aside to Twilight, “What’s your intention with her?”
“With Rainbow?” It was a stalling question, and she winced as soon as it came out. “I-I don’t think I’m…”
“It’s okay. I ain’t gonna tell her anything, you know.”
“I like her. A lot. I almost kissed her last night. But I don’t think I’m in love with her. I mean she’s… attractive.” The word came out as strained and weak. She sighed, shaking her head, and looked up to see Applejack watching her with a small smile. “I love her like I love you. You’re my best friends.”
Silence fell again, and in the wake of the storm, there was barely even a whisper of wind stirring the copse of trees by the road. Twilight stared at them, aware of Applejack’s eyes on her.
Applejack thumped the steering wheel once. “It was quite a sight seein’ you sleeping like that. Cute, I suppose, but don’t tell her I said that. She’d thump me good.” More silence followed, and Applejack sighed. “You like her a lot, love her like a friend. you even slept together.”
If she had stuck her face close to a bunsen burner, she imagined her cheeks might feel less hot. “Nothing happened!”
Applejack nodded. “I know. But, um… Kinda hard to ignore.” Applejack reached out and patted Twilight’s knee. “You’ve gotta face it, Twi. It happened, and I think she’s readin’ a lot into you not sayin’ anything against it happening again. Or going further.”
“I know.” She took a deep breath and let herself sink back into that sensation of waking up, too warm for just a blanket, too comfortable for coincidence. “It was nice, you know. Waking up with someone warm. Even if it might turn out… odd, I don’t regret that we shared that.”
Applejack made a noncommittal noise. “You know she, uh, had some troubles with a crush, right?”
“She said something like that. With Cloud Kicker.”
“Mhm.” Applejack nodded.
“And that she held a grudge for the breakup. And that Other Me leaving convinced her she shouldn’t hold onto it.”
“Huh. She never told us that. Just one day, she made up. Been friends since, even if CK ended up dating that lacrosse guy. I forget his name.”
“What’s that got to do with me?”
“Well, y’see… she has a tendency to latch on. Kinda like Rarity that way, actually.” Applejack gave her a warning shake of her head. “Don’t you dare tell neither of em I said that, either.”
Twilight laughed and zipped a finger across her lips.
“So… yeah. She kinda crushed on you. She knows it, too. But… crushes ain’t exactly rational or easy to get rid of.” Applejack met her eyes briefly, steadily. Whatever her friend had been looking for, she nodded. “But I’ve got a feelin’ it ain’t exactly one way, either, is it?”
Twilight shook her head. “I don’t think it is. I think infatuation fits better. Not quite a crush. But more than best friends. I think…” She turned her eyes to the van’s roof, seeking the certainty of purpose that would let her say what she needed. “I-I—” The words ‘I’m a lesbian’ wouldn’t come out, and she told herself after a long moment that it was her lack of evidentiary rigor to disprove it that accounted for her inability.
Applejack smiled as if she knew what had been happening in Twilight’s mind.
“I just don’t know what to do. Or what I feel. About anything. Sunset says I should just tell her sooner. But I don’t know what to tell her.” The words kept coming, and her mouth kept speaking them, disconnected from any attempt to stall them. “I have this horrible feeling that if I tell her, it will be the wrong thing. Or that it will be the right then, but later, I will find out it was the wrong thing all along. Or that it will be the wrong thing, and then she won’t forgive me for breaking her heart. I worry that I’m not really what I think I am, t-that…” There, finally, the words found a stopper. The same three words.
But what if I’m wrong? said the ghost of scientific rigor in her mind. She thudded her head back against the headrest in a steady rhythm, as if blunt force could do what will could not and shake free the three words she knew to be true in her heart. After only a day, how am I so certain?
After a lifetime of clues, she wanted to tell it.
Thud.
Her girlhood crush on Cadance both of them must have mistaken for adoration.
Thud.
Applejack’s hand touched her shoulder, but she shook her head. The hand stayed.
Her discomfiture around boys, mistaken for cooties at first, and later as social anxiety. As distinct internally as her discomfiture around girls.
Thud.
The way she felt whenever she was in the girl’s locker room, as uncertain of the social rules as she was of her place in that room rarely ventured, and often only when the girl’s bathroom was overcrowded or closed for cleaning—often because of a science experiment gone wrong. Her gawking at bodies more fit and toned than her own, and at bodies less so, the feeling a complex mix of anxiety, curiosity, and envy.
Thud.
I’m a lesbian.
It painted everything in a different light. Her whole life. Not a lie, not even close, but without the understanding that, like her glasses and contacts, let her see clearly.
When Twilight opened her eyes again Applejack still had her hand on Twilight’s shoulder, and was watching her with eyes clouded with concern, brows furrowed.
“What’s got you so upset? It’s not Rainbow, is it?”
“I’m a lesbian,” she said before the thought and courage to voice it left her. “And pi is adequately expressed as 3.14159265359 for most non-scientific endeavors.”
Twilight breathed in, then out, and looked again at Applejack.
If Applejack was shocked by the revelation, she didn’t show it, her smile blooming. “Kinda was able to guess the first, but I have no idea what the second means.”
Just how to explain it all to Applejack escaped her. Her thoughts floundered about, weaving from what she’d just said to what her parents must be thinking right that moment and if her saying it had affected them in some indefinable way.
Some of that must have shown on her face.
Applejack reached out to clap a hand on her shoulder. “Is that’s what’s botherin’ you? None of us care, Twi. I mean, we do, but you get what I mean. So you’re a lesbian. You’ve always been one, unless I’m missin’ something big.” Applejack’s shrug said it meant less than peaches to her. “What does that change about you that would make any of us want to be your friend any less? Or love you any less?”
Said like that… “Nothing.”
“Darn right nothing. I figure you’ve been that way forever, ya just didn’t get to explore it none, right? I mean, Dash is one, but you didn’t know that afore ya came out here, I figure, and you’re always stuck in your books, or homework, or helping us with our books and homework.” Applejack’s hand fell free and her cheeks heated. “And I’ve been working on the farm, school, and raisin’ Apple Bloom. Not much time for me, neither.”
“Are you gay, too?”
That was met with a shrug, a glance, and a faint smile. “Dunno. Maybe. I…” Applejack shook her head. “This ain’t about me, Twi. I’ll figure out me when I do.”
Twilight studied her friend for a long moment, then reached out and touched Applejack’s calloused, strong hand. “We’re all here for you.”
“I know.” Applejack drummed her fingers on her thigh. “Does you figuring out you change anything between you and Rainbow?”
She laughed, but it felt hollow, and the smile died. “It was more… It is more that I don’t know what future we would have together. She’s going to be a star athlete, I just know it. She’s going to travel the world, see interesting places, meet interesting people and be super famous. Me? I want to go to college and become a theoretical physicist working with the brightest minds in the world on problems no one but us have even heard of.”
“Too much planning, Twi. Life ain’t like that. Sure, you can plan the big things, like college and the like, but some things, like findin’ that special somebody…” Applejack drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. “Ya… ya just can’t.”
Rarity? Before she could think of how to ask, Applejack reached over and flicked her knee.
“But, you know, most of being in a relationship is finding a common middle ground.” Applejack tapped the center console with the heel of her palm. “But I can’t say what that might be for you and Rainbow, and it wouldn’t be right if I suggested something.”
“Cadance says it’s more about accepting that some things will never change about the person you love, and that they need to accept there are some things that will never change about you.” Twilight sighed. “She’s so much better at this than I am, I’m sure I’m getting it all wrong, and I wish, I wish I could tell her all about everything.”
“Sounds like an amazing lady. Maybe you should talk to her about all this. Maybe she can help you figure it out.”
“She is, and I will.”
“Maybe she can help Rainbow, too. Help you both.”
Twilight studied her friend’s profile, then her hands in her lap. “It sounds almost like you all want me and Rainbow to end up together.”
“Nah. Not sayin’ that at all.” Applejack reinforced that with a shake of her head. “Still your choice, sugar cube, but Cadance might help Rainbow see what she wants too. Still, you’ve been spendin’ an awful lotta time with her.”
“Well, she keeps asking me for help with math and chemistry. What am I going to do? Tell her no?”
Applejack’s smile told her all she needed to know about how it looked. “Then don’t worry about it. Yeah, she mighta been crushin’ on you for a while, but she might notta been, either. She needs a certain GPA to keep in sports, y’know. Used to be, she’d ask the teachers for help if she needed it. Never known her to ask another student, ‘cept you.”
Twilight swallowed. “T-that makes more sense. Doesn’t it? She just needed help.” More sense than one of her best friends harboring a secret love for her.
“It does, yeah. But a seed planted still needs time to grow, and the right environment.” Applejack jerked a thumb back at the beach house. “Like this. Time together without worrying about school, or sports, or studying. Just time to be yourselves.”
“I don’t think the same seed got planted in me. Not with her. I don’t think so, anyway. I mean… Ugh! This is all so confusing. I love her, but how can I tell if I’m in love with her or just love her? How can I make a decision when I don’t even have all the facts straight?” She snorted a laugh. “I need time to think. Figure it all out.”
“Tell her that. You need space. She’ll understand. It’s not the same as saying ‘I don’t love you.’ It’s saying ‘I need to understand myself.’”
She flicked the tip of her ponytail against her lips, stopped herself as soon as she realized she was doing it, and nodded. “As soon as we get back down, I’ll tell her.”
“Good. It’s… I wanna say it’s for the best, Twi. I mean, you jumped right in like a pig in a mudbath. And you’re just figuring yourself out, and you’re dealing with Sunset’s… thing. And you’ve just transferred to a new school, found out magic is real, made six new best friends, sang in front of hundreds of students… Twi, it’s a gosh darned genuine miracle you’re still sane!” Applejack chuckled and knuckled Twilight’s shoulder lightly. “You’re pretty tough stuff, but even you’ve gotta have limits.”
“Yeah… when you put it like that…” She smiled weakly as the previous night’s lack of sleep came down hard on her shoulders, and she yawned.
A few minutes later, her growing resolve to tell Rainbow exactly that battling against the hurt she felt in her heart from an imagined life without Rainbow as a friend, Flash called.
“I’ll do it,” he said immediately. “But you’ve gotta do something for me, too.”
“Any—” Twilight glanced aside at Applejack, looking at her with a cocked eyebrow and openly curious stare. She swallowed, closed her eyes, and nodded once. “Anything, Flash.”
“Good. Look… I need to work out the details. I’ll tell you when I get there. See you in five hours or so.”
He hung up. Twilight stared at the phone, then at Applejack. “Does he know where this place is?”
Applejack shook her head, held up three fingers, grinning, and started counting down silently. When her second finger folded in, Twilight’s phone jingled again. She answered, holding back a laugh.
“So… uh, the dramatic exit is not very dramatic if I don’t know where I’m going to meet you.”
Half an hour later, and still no more follow up calls from Flash, Applejack reached for the ignition and stopped. “Before we go back down… can I ask you something? I don’t mean ta put more on ya, but… I don’t know who else I can ask who’d keep a secret for me. Aside from Pinkie, but…” Applejack grimaced.
“It’s okay. I know.”
“Don’t tell anyone else this, not even Rarity. Especially not Rarity, but I’ve found love of a friend can easily turn into being in love in the right circumstances. Hard not to, honestly, when things are set right.” Applejack fidgeted with the keys in the ignition, frowning. “It’s… about Rarity and me.”
“You’re dating?”
Applejack stared out the windshield for a long moment, lips pursed. She shook her head finally. “No. I think she’s straight as an arrow, but she keeps on…” Applejack shrugged, pursing her lips. “She’s unreserved in showering her affections on her friends, you know. I know, or think I know, that it’s just because she’s a great friend, but…”
“But you’re not sure.”
“Nope.” Applejack sighed, glancing aside, and reached forward to start the van. “I’m not sure enough to say more, t’be honest. I just know that when she’s around, I just wanna be a better version of me.” Her hand hung from the keys for a moment, then slipped to her knee. “If you figure out your situation, let me know, huh? Maybe I can learn somethin’, too.”
Twilight chuckled. “Sure.”
A bluebird chirped in the forested copse, then flew out and landed on the van’s antenna, sending it swaying before it took off again at their inspection. Spring was there to stay, and with spring… The Spring Fling. She wanted to go, suddenly, and not just because her friends all were. She wanted to take someone to be with, and wondered who the others would go with.
“I love her, y’know. Or I’m crushin’ on her. I just don’t know, and it’s killin’ me that I don’t feel like I can just tell her what I’m feelin’. You know how she is. She might think… you know how generous she is. I don’t want her to think… she owes me anything.”
“I don’t think she would look at it that way, Applejack. Yes, she’s freer with her affection than even Pinkie in some ways, but I don’t think she gives that because she can gain something in return.” Twilight rubbed at her jeans, remembering. “She cried about the house, the night she braided my hair. She came up because she was worried about me, and I never got the feeling that she came up because she knew she’d need something in return. She gave comfort, and I gave back.”
“Yeah.” Applejack thumped her head back against the headrest. “That’s Rarity. Twi… If I tell her—when I tell her—if it goes wrong… can you help me fix it?”
“Yes,” she said immediately.
Applejack glanced at her. “Thanks.” She started the van. “Focus on what you wanna say to Rainbow. I… I think I’m gonna see what happens with Rarity afore I put my foot in it.”
What she needed to say percolated through her jumbled thoughts for the short drive down the slope, wending around and around in circles, and always coming back to the same conclusion. Simply: ‘Rainbow, I love you, but I need some time.’
Cut out the rest of the mess, just say what she meant, simple and to the point.
And then her mind would circle back to: ‘But you could fall in love in time, right?’ and ‘I do love you.’ and ‘Then stay with me.’
The prospect of staying with Rainbow, sharing herself more fully, terrified her. And it elated her, and as they drove, the need to sleep was plowed under by giddy anticipation and gurgling anxiety.
Rainbow, I love you, but I need some time.
Rainbow Dash was waiting for them at the house, two backpacks slung over her shoulder and her duffel and Twilight’s hard-shell suitcase standing beside her.
“I’m going,” she announced as she slid open the van’s side door. In went one bag and then the other. Her own duffel got the same unceremonious treatment, but the hard shell she slid in gently. “We need to talk, Twi,” she said turning and leaning against the van’s frame.
“I know.” Twilight slid from the passenger seat. “And I have things I want to say. Thing. I have something I want to say. Right now.” Before I lose my nerve.
“Me, too.” Rainbow rubbed at her arm, fixing a stare over Twilight’s shoulder where Rarity, Pinkie, and Fluttershy were all watching them without being too obvious about it. Except for Pinkie Pie, who seemed intent on some project involving tape and a few of their precious straws.
Twilight shook her head. “You first.”
“No, you—” Rainbow rolled her eyes and smacked her forehead. “Fine. The short of it is, I think it may be best for both of us if we just step back. Just be friends for now. We can revisit the whole, er, mushy thing later.”
Relief flooded her. “Oh, good. Good, because that’s what I wanted to say, too: I do love you, but I need some time.” She’d said it, and Rainbow only smiled, her expression guarded and stiff for a moment, then relaxed into a lopsided grin.
“Yeah. I feel like that, too.”
Applejack coughed and kicked a tire, leaning over to inspect it.
Twilight blushed and caught the tip of her ponytail in her fist. “Oh, yes. And I’m gay.”
“No kidding.” Rainbow’s level gaze and flat tone broke something inside her.
She giggled. “How did you know?”
“Oh, let’s see…” Rainbow tapped a finger against her chin, looking up into the sky. “The way you never look up when the boys pass by, but almost every girl who walks by gets a twitch out of you. Oh, you don’t look up then, either, but you always readjust your glasses a few seconds after they pass, you even do it when you’re wearing contacts. Girls smell good to you, I’d guess. Better than the guys at any rate. You keep checking out other girls in the locker room, but you never talk to any of them, and you’ve got this blush going on whenever you do.”
Twilight gawped, feeling her mouth drop open like a fish as she tried to force the data through her brain. Her eye twitched and she folded her arms over her stomach. “H-how could you possibly see all that?”
“Active gaydar?” Applejack tapped Rainbow’s shoulder with a fist and moved on to the next tire.
“Nah.” Rainbow returned the tap with a flick at the other’s hat and lounged against the side of the van, her arms folded over her chest, a cocky grin tugging at her lips. “I just notice things is all. Kinda picked it up in sports, I guess. Gotta pay attention to everything.” She grinned wider, her attention shifting back to Twilight, tapping her chin in an imitation of Twilight’s thoughtful pose. “I could go on. I’d really like to talk about how sleeping with another girl is a big, big clue.”
Realizing her mouth was open, Twilight snapped it closed, her cheeks heating to crimson. “H-how long have you known?”
“I didn’t until day before yesterday.” Rainbow stepped forward, her fingers lifting to touch Twilight’s cheek, halted, and drew away, stuffing the hand into a pocket. “It was a feeling. I mean, you looked so much like the pony you that I thought you might be into boys, too. I didn’t know until Badminton.” Rainbow kicked at the sand. “But I kinda hoped.”
Rainbow’s body molding against hers, warm hands enfolding hers and guiding her through the motions. Rainbow asleep on top of her, breath tickling her neck, the smell of sweat and sand, flowery shampoo and sweetly scented soap filling her nose. Fingers tickling down her thigh.
She flushed scarlet and twitched her ponytail into a curl around her fingers. “Why?”
“Because I like you a lot. Like, I just want to hug you right now, just because, and see where that goes.” Rainbow licked her lips, froze, blushing, and looked away. “Rarity says I’m crushing on you pretty hard.”
“Applejack said I might be, too.”
Rainbow peered at her briefly, closed her eyes, and slumped against the van. “She did, huh?” That smirk came back, faltered, and bloomed into a smile. “We’ve got it pretty bad, huh?”
Twilight shuffled closer, hesitated, and dropped her arms to her sides, fingers twiddling against her thighs. “She also said that you might have been… that way for close to a month. That you asked for so much help with chem and math because you wanted to be close to me.”
Silence passed between them as Rainbow scrubbed her arm, frowning over Twilight’s shoulder, and shook her head once, then shrugged, and finally sighed and switched her attention to Twilight.
When Twilight tilted her head to look inside, Pinkie was struggling with Rarity over what looked like semaphore flags made out of straws and napkins. She sighed. “They want so badly to just come out and talk to us, don’t they? Just sit us down and make us decide.”
“Yeah. But, aside from Pinkie, they’re pretty subtle about it. Usually. Applejack’s not wrong, you know. I wanted—want—to be with you so bad…” A look around, a shake of her head at Applejack, and Rainbow dropped her voice. “I wanted to kiss you last night, and you did, too.”
Throughout, Twilight was watching those lips, wondering what it would be like to just let go and kiss her friend. It would be an experiment, see what it felt like, if she liked it. But that’s what Cloud Kicker had done. Her eyes lifted to Rainbow’s eyes, and she saw the same want reflected there. She swallowed hard and jerked her gaze down, came to rest on Rainbow’s chest, and down further, to her thighs, ending up staring at her feet.
“Hey.” Rainbow’s finger prodded her shoulder. “You don’t need to be embarrassed by looking, but if we’re gonna be together, it’s gotta be because we’re sane and not because we’re…” Rainbow’s cheeks flushed darker.
“Because we’re responding to raging hormones?”
“Uh…” Rainbow’s eyes swept down over her, stopping at the same points before she swallowed hard, blushing just as heatedly before dragging her eyes back up to Twilight’s, her grin spreading. “Yeah. Let’s go with that.”
Twilight laughed, blushing, and Rainbow joined her. In that moment, she regretted telling Rainbow she wanted some space, and wanted to kiss away the uncertainty and share in the attraction she felt like the inexorable pull of gravity between them. If she reached out… her hand jittered and rose. If she touched Rainbow’s cheek… further, closer.
She clenched her fingers and pulled her hand back down.
Rainbow sat down on the step of the van as though she were a marionette whose strings had been cut, except for the hand that reached out to tug Twilight closer. “It’s okay, Twi.”
Twilight followed the tug quietly, seizing hold of the offered warmth in both hands.
“We’re okay. Right?”
Twilight sat on the running board, not letting go of the hand holding hers. The tension bled away in the silence, watching their friends pretending not to pay attention to them and listening to the quiet rushing murmur of waves on the shore.
“Yeah. We’re okay.”
“Good.” Rainbow smiled at her, squeezed once more, and sat still. “This is nice.”
“Mhm.” The sun was up high in an clear sky, several degrees south of truly being directly overhead, and the shadow from the house crept up almost to their feet. The smell of the sea, clean and salty, flowed around them like a shallow stream. It wouldn’t be long before the sun-baked sand began steaming. “I’m going to miss being here, but I hope they can join us soon.”
“So you did call.”
“Yes. He’ll be here in a few hours, he said.” Escape into the details. Girls smell good to me? She wanted to lean over and test that theory. Instead, she reached up to readjust her glasses, forgetting for a moment she was wearing her contacts, and turned it into a not-at-all-awkward readjusting of her ponytail. “W-we have to head back up to the cliff again just in case he tries to call.”
Rainbow jerked a thumb at the luggage laying on the floor, and grinned. “Yep. Kinda figured.”
“Are you still coming with us?”
Rainbow glanced over her shoulder at the purple and blue bags and turned back, her grin sliding into a twinkle-eyed smirk.
“I’ve been distracted! And I haven’t eaten lunch yet.”
“Sure.” Rainbow’s smirk didn’t fade, flinging an an arm over Twilight’s shoulders, she pushed off, pulling her up and dragging her towards the house. “And I’ve been distracted by your amazing knowledge of all things polka.”
“You know I don’t know anything about polka.” She stuck her tongue out at Rainbow, giggling.
“There you go again, being all distracting.” Rainbow laughed and planted a loud, sloppy kiss in the thick bunch of hair just above her ear. “Don’t ever stop being you.”
She shivered from the sudden heat flushing her body, but didn’t draw away.
Lunch, rather than being eaten down in the house, was moved up to the top of the ridge as a small road trip, as Pinkie claimed, and they settled in to wait.
Twilight napped on the back seat, spread out across the three-seat wide cushion with a jacket thrown over her head to catch up on the previous night’s lost sleep, and occasional snatches of conversation floated in from the open van door insinuated themselves into her hazy dreams, indistinct and forgotten as soon as the wind carried them away, and carried her deeper into sleep.
Later, her eyes aching from the tired bit of sleep she’d managed, she woke to the feel of her phone vibrating, then jingling. The sun was far down on the horizon, casting a long shadow over the van and tinting the ocean in golds and reds.
Two missed call notifications glared angry red at her as she flipped the phone open, yawning.
“Hello?”
“Yo! Sleeping beauty, we just got on that country road you told me about. It’s, what, another ten miles?” Someone else spoke quietly on the other end. “No, it’s fine. We stopped an hour ago. Got plenty of gas.”
Twilight spent a long moment parsing that, then dragged herself up and recalled the directions Applejack had given last night and knocked loudly on the window. “Close to that. Just keep going straight. Look for the turnoff for Fashion Cove.”
Applejack poked her head in, wiping a bead of sweat away from her brow, and ducked a frisbee that thunked off the side of the van, catching it on the rebound. “It’s about another five miles north from the Fashion Cove turnoff,” she said loudly, then turned and flung the frisbee back at its source.
Twilight relayed that, listened for a moment as Flash talked indistinctly to someone else, and nodded to Applejack. “He’s got it.”
Flash murmured something else indistinct, and said, “Okay. See you in a few.”
Twilight hung up, yawned, and rubbed sleep out of her eyes. “He’ll be here in a little bit,” she called as she clambered out. “Is everything ready?”
“Yep! Just gotta toss everything in his trunk, then we’re off.” Rainbow zipped the frisbee off to Pinkie, caught the return, and thumped against the van. “So, have a good beauty sleep?”
“Ugh…”
“Yeah, you look about like that, too.” Rainbow twitched her fingers through Twilight’s bangs, stopping herself before she finished, and drew away. “Might wanna, uh, brush that out.”
Twilight fished around in her backpack, finding her notebook before the brush, and drew it out instead. It wasn’t her school journal, but her private one, unmarked except for the scrawl of ‘Twilight Sparkle’ across the top. She flipped past the filled in pages, full of a handwriting growing more and more cramped until she came to the last few pages filled with her usual neat, precise hand, and wondered how many times she had intended to write down her thoughts and think about them as she did so, only to turn to her friends instead.
Rainbow sighed, rolling her eyes, and dug the brush out. “Here. Might wanna look nice.”
“I will… just…” She flipped another page, touching the words that had started the vacation. Uncertainty, confusion… The same thing she was still dealing with.
She must have said the last aloud.
“It’s not the same, Twi.” Rainbow ran the brush through her hair once, grimacing as the bristles caught on a snarl. “You’re different, y’know. You took charge this morning. Sort of.”
“So what changed?” She had, she realized. Without even knowing that she was changing, she found it easier to confide in her friends than she did in her journal. Even then, with a half-blank page open, she couldn’t think of what to tell her journal that she couldn’t talk about with one or another of her friends.
Rainbow shrugged, felt more than seen, and continued grumbling about snarls and getting Rarity to do it even as she kept on.
Twilight sat as still as she could, staring at the page and the pen with its tip hovering, quivering as if a great pressure was held in check and to let it go, all she needed to do was write, but nothing came. There was no great pressure, no great need to write what she could discuss, and no compulsion to hide in the nonjudgmental safety its blank pages offered.
All too soon, a pair of headlights turned off the distant road and grew into the familiar deep, deep blue of Flash’s Black Forest Cannon.
She hurriedly stuffed her notebook and pen back into her bag and slipped out of the van, followed by Rainbow.
Flash honked once as he parked a few dozen feet away from the van, and Sonata got out.
Everyone froze except for Sonata, who ducked back in and came up holding a tray of foam mugs and a bag with the Donkey Donuts logo on the side.
“What’s she doing here?” Rainbow called, jerking her chin at Sonata.
Flash got out a moment later, waved, and glanced at Sonata, frozen in the act of setting the tray on the car’s roof. “She’s one of those details, Rainbow. Sonata, I think you know the Rainbooms.” He waved a hand from Sonata to the gathered girls, then in reverse. “This is Sonata Dusk. She’s my friend.”
“His girlfriend?” Pinkie whispered in a tone too hushed to be anything but, and too loud to be anything but a shout.
Twilight glanced between Sonata and Flash, then shot a sidelong glance at Rainbow.
“She’s a girl, she’s my friend. Please treat her nicely.” Flash pinched the bridge of his nose, sighed, and stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets.
Rainbow recovered a beat later. “Sonata? The Siren?”
Sonata set the tray down, took a deep breath, and shook her head. “No.” Her eyes flicked to Flash. “I’m not who I was.”
Twilight stepped up and twined her fingers with Rainbow’s briefly, the motion hidden from Flash by her body. “People can change, Rainbow. I did.”
“Yeah, but she’s still a Siren!”
“She’s different, Rainbow,” Flash snapped. “I came out here to do you all a favor. If you’re going to harp on who I choose for friends…” He let the threat trail off, but pulled out his keys.
Twilight let her fingers slip free of Rainbow’s and imposed herself in between the two. “Look, I know you two don’t like each other, but please. This is for Sunset, not for us.”
She could almost feel Rainbow relax into a quivering silence.
“I’m sorry for what I did.” Sonata said quietly into the silence. “I’m not a monster, I promise. I, um… Flash is helping me get away from my past and be a better person.”
“How is he doing that?” Twilight cocked her head and studied their former rival more closely. Sonata looked as Twilight remembered her, except for the pale blue spot just below the hollow of her neck, and her hair was loose instead of in a ponytail, hanging almost to her waist, bringing a memory of Other Twilight’s hairstyle in the videos and photos.
“We’ll explain on the way. It’s gonna be almost two in the morning by the time we hit the city limits, and I want to get back home and crash. But…” He reached across the hood of the car and caught Sonata’s hand. “She’s not what you think. She’s not what I thought, either, when she came to me for help. Please, give her a chance.”
Rainbow huffed and stepped around Twilight, patting a hand on her shoulder as she passed. “Come on. We need to get going. It’s getting late.”
The first half hour passed silently, darkness descending swiftly as the sun dipped below the cliffs. Coffee added only a tiny bit of wakeful zest to Twilight’s sleep deprived thoughts, and the hum of the road tried again and again to lull her to sleep, but every time she did, she found Rainbow doing the same, her head almost resting on Twilight’s shoulder, and jerked awake, her eyes darting to see if Flash or Sonata had noticed.
It was too easy to fall together in the cramped back seat, their knees almost touching.
Flash broke the silence first.
“Is Sunset okay?”
Twilight slid her hand across the seat to touch Rainbow’s fingers and shared a brief glance. Rainbow shrugged and squeezed the hand lightly. It was up to her to make the choice again. She sighed.
“She’s lonely.”
He glanced back at her briefly, then snapped his eyes forward when Sonata smacked his shoulder. “Why didn’t she go with all of you? I thought you all were inseparable. The stars know it was like planning a raid to try and talk to you alone, Twilight.”
“Yeah, and we had reason,” Rainbow said.
“I know!” More quietly, a few seconds later, “I know. And I’m sorry for what I said. I knew what I said would hurt you, and I wanted to hurt you.”
“But he didn’t want want to hurt you,” Sonata said. She laid a hand on Flash’s shoulder and looked back, her face all but invisible in the dim light cast by the dash. “We wanted him to want to hurt you. And I’m sorry. I know it was wrong.”
“Sona…” Flash sighed.
“Hey, at least she’s honest.”
“Rainbow!” Twilight smacked her friend’s shoulder. “Please don’t antagonize him.”
“Fine… Sorry.” Rainbow squeezed Twilight’s fingers lightly. “I just don’t… I mean, uh…” She subsided into grumbling silence, sinking as much as she could into the seat cushion. “Thanks for driving us.”
“Heh. She listens to you? Miracles can happen.”
“Flash, don’t.” Sonata smacked his shoulder, her tone almost chiding. “She apologized.”
“Yes, mother,” he groaned. “Apology accepted, okay? And you’re welcome. Stars know why, but I’m happy to do this for Sunny.”
“You still have feelings for her.” Twilight said.
“Sorta. It’s… like you, actually.” He grimaced, barely a hint of it visible in the dim red glow of the console. “Complicated, I mean. I mean… you look just like her. I felt my heart jump when I saw you, but—”
“But she’s not your Twilight,” Rainbow growled.
“But,” Flash said, voice raised, “I know you’re not her. Just like I know Sunset isn’t… she’s changed. She’s not got the same confidence she used to.”
Twilight recalled when she had first met Sunset, that it had felt like she had been under intense scrutiny, more so from her than from anyone else. It had been she who’d figured out that Twilight wasn’t the Twilight of another world first, within minutes of meeting her. She still remembered the surprised look, and the hope blooming in the smile just before she told the group who Twilight was.
“You’re wrong,” she said, holding that smile in her mind’s eye. “She’s still got that confidence, Flash.”
“Yeah.” Rainbow’s hand found hers again, clutched lightly, briefly, and let her hand rest atop Twilight’s. “But it’s aimed differently.” She glanced at the mirror, then back. “She didn’t have a lot of experience being friends, but… she was really eager to learn.”
Twilight caught Rainbow’s glance again: a momentary meeting of the eyes, a raised eyebrow, and a light squeeze over her hand.
“Kinda like you, Twi.” Again, the squeeze.
She got it, then, and caught a giggle before it came out. Rainbow’s eyes twinkled in the darkness.
“So… how are you going to tell your parents?”
Twilight stared at her friend’s dim profile, her heart hammering in her chest. “M-my parents?” Not here, she pleaded silently. Not now.
“Yeah. About, uh, why you’re home so early.”
“That’s actually a good question,” Flash said. “So… why did you call me? Why not your parents?”
“Long story,” Rainbow said. “There’s… complications with Twilight’s parents that we don’t want to deal with.” She squeezed Twilight’s fingers.
Sonata, already half-twisted around, looked more closely between them, visibly squinting in the dark. After a long moment of Twilight trying to stay as still as possible, she twisted back around, giggling.
“What?” Flash shot a look back, then to the side. “What is it?”
“Nothing.” Sonata covered her giggles behind her hand.
“It’s not nothing! Are you speaking in some kind of crazy, silent girl code?”
“No, silly, no girl code, and they’re not saying what you think.” Sonata’s laugh rose again, stifled, and continued on, muffled. “They’re just gay.”
“Of course Rainbow’s gay. Duh.” A moment later, the car swerved as he twisted in his seat to cast a pleading look at them. “Please tell me she’s just being crazy.”
Sonata slapped his shoulder again and grabbed for the wheel. Flash jerked back around, brushed Sonata’s reach aside with a hand, and swerved back into their lane.
Twilight calmed her hammering heart and tried to drag her stomach back up from her feet. More than just the sudden swerve had sent her stomach hurtling down, and she sought the dim reflection of Flash’s eyes in the mirror.
Beetled brows rose to disappear into the fringe of Flash’s mussed hair. “How can you tell? Were they using some secret lesbian code?” He flashed a look at Sonata. “You were talking about Rainbow, right?”
“Nope, her.” Sonata jabbed a finger at Twilight.
Twilight sank further back into her seat, wishing there had been a hole to the trunk right then.
Rainbow groaned. “She’s evil. I told you.”
“Am not!”
“Are too!”
“Quiet!” Flash’s snapped command froze the argument. “Good grief, it’s like driving around my sisters all over again.”
“Sonata started it!”
“You started it!”
“Seriously, how are you two not related? Quiet down or I’m turning this car around.”
Twilight giggled past the flush creeping up her neck.
They drove on, slower and in silence for a long stretch of highway until Flash broke it again, his eyes flicking to Twilight’s in the mirror. She swallowed.
“So… Are you?” He frowned. “But the other Twilight from—”
“Dude, she’s not your Twilight. Get over it.” Rainbow jabbed a punch at his seat. “That Twilight was from another world.”
“I never said she was my Twilight!” he snapped, shifting his glare from Rainbow to Sonata. “Are you gay?”
“No. I’m as gay as you are.” Sonata chuckled and jabbed his shoulder with a finger. “I mean, you’re not, are you?”
“Um… Remember when you caught me staring at your chest? And legs?” He chuckled. “So not gay.”
Rainbow snickered. “Dude, really? I mean, she’s got a nice set, but really? I’m discreet about it at least.”
“Oh, yeah? I find it hard to believe you can be subtle.” Flash snorted, shaking his head.
“Yeah. Like, Sonata. You’ve got a pretty nice set, babe.”
“Babe? Are you seriously hitting on a straight girl?” Flash shook his head and sighed loudly. “And how is that at all subtle?”
“Thanks!” Sonata said, raising her hands as though to pat imaginary breasts. “I like mine, but, I think I like yours better. They’re bigger than mine, anyway.”
“There’s no way that’s true. I’m a middling B. You’ve gotta be a high C or a low D, right?”
“Um… Low C, Dash. You have heard of push-up bras, right?”
“Duh. So why’d you think I’m bigger than you? I mean, you don’t hang around the girls locker room, but…”
“That wicked guitar solo, when you played it behind your back? Wow.”
“Yeah… no. Extraordinary circumstances. Middle B. Ask Twi.” Rainbow nudged her lightly. “You’ve seen ‘em.”
She flushed, huddling back into her seat as the heat she’d been fighting threatened to explode. She could remember all too well the moment of Rainbow’s brazenly naked tirade at the top of the stairs, chest thrust out, finger jabbing down at Rarity so that she could see Rainbow in profile, see just how nice her body was.
Was it really only two nights ago?
“So?”
Twilight jerked her eyes up, realizing Sonata was looking expectantly at her. “W-what?”
“She telling the truth?”
She nodded. “I-I think so. I mean… I didn’t get a good—” She swallowed hard, pushing back the image. “Look.”
Flash’s jaw picked up from his chest as he stared at Sonata, then into the mirror at Rainbow and back at Sonata. “You have no place to call me out on checking out chicks.”
“Hey, hey, I never said I didn’t. I’m just subtle about it.”
Flash sighed, shaking his head more firmly. “And you’re not gay?” Flash asked, jerking his chin at Sonata, then glared at Rainbow.
“Nope! Boys, boys, boys! I mean, I don’t need to be a lesbian to admire another girl’s physique, right? You do the same to guys, right?” Sonata turned and flashed a grin at Rainbow.
“Um… no.” Rainbow shook her head. “No interest.”
“See, I’m an equal opportunity ogler,” Sonata chirped, almost bouncing in her seat.
“That’s awesome.” Rainbow reached forward to tap fists with Sonata. “You’re pretty cool.”
Flash sighed and almost smacked his head against the steering wheel. “You two are so weird.” He glanced back at Rainbow, blinked, and jerked his eyes forward again.
“Hey, eyes on the road, bub, not on my boobs. You missed your chance.” Rainbow smacked the back of the headrest.
Flash snorted. “You’re gay, remember? I never had a chance.”
“I— You—” She glanced at Twilight, then at Sonata. Her mouth worked soundlessly for several seconds.
Twilight laughed, covered it behind her hands.
“He did not just score a point on me! You didn’t win!” Rainbow smacked the headrest again, but Flash broke into snickering and laughter, growing harder when he glanced back at Rainbow’s face, the car swerving slightly.
“Kinda sounds like he did,” Sonata said.
“Evil!” Rainbow laughed.
Some time later, Sonata twisted in her seat to face Twilight. “So… I’m not sure if I got the right idea. I mean, are you? A lesbian, I mean.”
“Sonata…” Flash sighed. “That’s kinda rude.”
“I’m just curious. It’s cool if she is.”
“I-I…” Twilight faltered. She swallowed hard, and nodded. “M-my parents don’t know. Please, please keep it secret, okay?” She met Flash’s eyes in the mirror briefly. “I don’t know the first thing about telling them.”
“Hear that?” He glanced at Sonata.
“What am I not hearing?”
Flash smiled, glanced aside at her again, and sighed. “That Twilight’s in the closet. Keep it secret, Sonata, okay? She’s only out to her friends, apparently, and us.”
“Yeah, I know.” Sonata shrugged. “I’ll keep it secret.”
“Flash, anyone who drives ten hours round trip to pick me up from the middle of nowhere, and is willing to keep a secret for me… You’re a friend.” Twilight tapped a finger against the back of his chair. “As long as you’re not an axe murderer.”
Sunset Shimmer snorted and flipped channels again. “You knew who it was, idiot, you stared at him for half an hour before you kissed him.” Late night TV continued to disappoint her with stupid plots, stupid characters, and dumber antagonists—but it kept her awake. That, and her fourth mug of coffee cooling on the side-table.
Squeaker, the Peaches’ aging cat, mrowled happily in her lap and purred louder and louder as she stroked his ears. “Yes, you like everyone, don’t you,” she purred, lips pursed, and flipped channels past several color-barred channels.
“…buy now and get not one, not two, but three…”
“Three cans of shut up.” Click.
“…Spitfire goes for the goal, shoots, and that’s the game! The Wonderbolts move on to the quarterfinals!”
“Of course, just caught the end.” She sighed as the program moved on past the freeze-frame of Spitfire being mobbed by her team. Apparently, it was a late night sports commentary show, and the two chuckleheads going back and forth started grating on her nerves before ten seconds passed.
She shut off the TV, yawning. “At least Rainbow’s gonna be happy about that.”
“Because of you, I had to miss tryouts for lacrosse! You and your stupid problems. Why can’t you just leave?”
“Mrow?”
“It’s okay, Squeaker. Just a dream,” she told the cat, fondling his velvet ears and scratching that one spot, right behind his ears, that made him go limp as a noodle. “Mm, yes, you like that,” she purred. She laid her head back and closed her eyes for a long moment, stroking his ears slowly, enjoying his company and the nonjudgmental manner he lavished affection on her, and almost drifted away, but jerked awake before the nightmare could rise up and claim her.
She glanced at the slowly ticking clock on the mantlepiece, ten o’clock, and nearly leapt out of her skin when the house phone bleep-bleep-bleeped as loud as a stampede of cows.
Squeaker sank his old, sharp claws into her pajamas, ears flat, the points digging into her legs, and growled when she tried to shove him off, his crooked tail lashing back and forth.
“Ow, ow, ow! Stop! Soft paws, soft paws!” She cried the safeword that worked maybe half the time. When it didn’t, and he only growled louder when the phone rang again, she worked her fingers under his paws, prizing the claws free of her legs one by one. “See, this is why I don’t like you on my lap, but you keep on charming your way there.”
The phone stopped ringing and went to the voicemail machine, an ancient box that was half as loud as the phone’s ring.
Twilight’s voice crackled from the speaker. “Hey, Sunny. You must be asleep, you’re not answering your cell. Um… Hope you had a good day. Talk to you later. Oh! This is Twilight. Um, you have my number. Bye!”
Bleep!
Maybe it was time to let a little bit of her allowance go to investing in the voice mail feature for her cell phone, except she was usually never far from it.
“One new message,” said the stilted, mechanical voice of the answering machine.
“Duh! Get off!” She finally prized his claws free and rubbed at her leg where they’d had such a firm grip, and pushed him to the floor. “Bad kitty!”
His ears folded back, and he slunk away to hide under the couch. She sighed and rubbed a hand over the sudden ache in her chest. “Why do you always have to be so hasty?” she asked herself, and slumped back into the chair.
She glanced at the phone, then at the couch where she could just see the place where a cow had stepped on and broken his tail last fall, a sharp crook near the end that came out when it lashed back and forth under the dust ruffle.
He’d taken to scrambling away, or up, when the house phone rang since, a rare occurrence but often enough that Mrs. Peach had declared “It’ll keep him on his toes! I’d rather he freak out at the phone than get stepped on again,” in response to Mr. Peach suggesting they replace the phone. “Keep it as a reminder.”
“Squeaker, I’m sorry.” She levered herself off the chair and knelt with a thump by the couch, careful not to kneel on his tail, and lifted the ruffle. “Are you okay?”
He slouched further under the couch, quiet, and turned so she could see the glow of his eyes reflecting back light from the single, fabric shaded lamp in the Peaches’ living room.
“Hey, don’t be like that.” She twiddled her fingers just below the edge of the couch. “Kiss, kiss, kiss.”
Instead of her fingers, he focused a baleful glare at her face, his kitty expression saying: “Really? You can do better than that.” He folded his forepaws under his chest and closed his eyes, shutting her out. No amount of making kissy noises or waggling her fingers did more than make his ears fold back.
“Ugh! Fine.” She threw down the ruffle and stood, forcing herself to calm again. “He’s just a cat.”
“Mrowr.”
“Just a cat.” She stamped a foot for emphasis and tromped into the kitchen, glowering at the cabinet, his food, his bowl, and finally his royal, orange behind as he purred and rubbed up against her bare calves.
As soon as he was settled by his bowl, happily eating his messy way through the wet kibble, her glower slipped away. “Ah… if only people were as simple as cats.” She slid down to sit beside him and stroked his back from neck to tail, earning a louder purr and a cessation of eating to appreciate her attention.
“That’s more like it.” The ache in her chest eased, and she let her head thump back against the counter, closing her eyes for just a moment, listening to his intermittent buzzing purr and messy, wet feeding.
Some time later, she called Twilight, cradling the phone against her shoulder as she stroked slowly over Squeaker’s back.
To her surprise, the phone didn’t even get to its first ring before she got an answer.
“Sunset! I didn’t mean to wake you up!”
“Nah, you didn’t,” she said, smiling. “It’s good just to hear your voice, and worth a little lost sleep.” Why’d you say that? “I mean… I couldn’t sleep. And it’s nice to, uh…” She scrubbed at her face, grimacing at the greasy feeling of her own skin, reminding her that she still hadn’t showered. “Can I start over?”
“No…” Twilight laughed, and someone else’s voice, indistinct, warbled something through a low hum on the line. “No, she’s still awake, Flash. Just—” The phone thumped, and more muffled voices joined in, too watery sounding to make out.
“Flash is with you?” No answer right away. “Twilight? He didn’t—” She clipped off the rest of the words, realizing Twilight would hardly be laughing if she was upset. Suspicion followed, but she kept her lips shut, trying to think of valid reasons why things would be happening as they appeared to be. ”Never mind.”
She had to wait several minutes, watching the clock tick down towards half past ten, and tried to make sense of the muted conversation when she only had the shapes of the voices, not the words.
“Sorry about that. Rainbow and Flash had a disagreement, and Sonata’s being stubborn.”
“Old news,” Sunset grunted. “Rainbow and Flash have been at each other since Other Twilight left.”
“Just a sec.” Twilight’s voice got quieter, but more forceful at the same time. “If you two don’t stop fighting, I swear I will walk the rest of the way!”
The background babble immediately stopped.
“Whoa. Since when did you get so assertive? I like.” The last part clicked something in her head. “Walk? Walk where? Aren’t you still at—” Realization kicked in, and the probable chain of events unfolded in her mind, linking one to the next, from the moment she’d agreed to let Twilight talk to the others about her issues, to the moment Twilight called, even to the reason Flash and Sonata were there, too.
“Twilight…” Sunset rubbed at her brow, fighting back a sudden headache. “Please tell me you’re not driving all the way back to Canterlot in the middle of the night. Please? I need to hear that right now.”
“Well… I’m not driving.” Twilight paused, and Sunset could almost hear the smile in it. “Flash is.”
“I knew this would happen! I knew it!” She thumped her head back against the counter, startling Squeaker into looking up briefly. “I tell you I’m having trouble, and you all ride in on some kind of crusade to save me from the boogeyman. Twilight, you needed this vacation. Maybe you don’t think it’s been stressful this last month, but I—”
“No, Sunset.” Twilight’s voice was firm. “I’m glad you told me. If you hadn’t, I would have felt awful when I came back. And if I stayed, I wouldn’t have been able to enjoy the rest of the vacation. I need to be there for you, okay?”
Sunset drew in a ragged breath, nodded once, and sighed. “I-if you say so.” Squeaker looked up from his meal, drops of gravy hanging from his whiskers, and butted his head against her elbow before dropping back to his meal. “Thanks, fuzzball.”
“Um… what?”
“Squeaker, the Peaches’ cat.” She rubbed at her forehead. “So you’re coming here. I… I can’t say I’m not happy. I’ve missed all of you.” But you, most of all. It almost slipped out, and she buried her head in the crook of her arm. “I miss talking to you about magic, and Equestria, and spending time together.”
The silence stretched out after that, an uncomfortable edge to it.
“I do, too.” Twilight’s voice was barely a whisper.
“And I miss Applejack’s cider, Fluttershy’s animals, and Pinkie’s… crazy everything. I even miss Rarity nagging me about styling my hair for once, and Rainbow’s… well, Rainbow’s…” She pursed her lips, trying to think of something nice to say.
“Vivacity?”
“Yeah. Let’s go with that.” She sighed. “No… I miss her bossiness. I miss butting heads with her over every little thing, and smoothing things over later. I miss her singing, too, I guess, and our guitar practice.”
Squeaker rolled himself over and presented his belly for post-dinner rubs. She smiled and obliged. He rolled himself around on his back, wriggling and kicking at her wrist with his back feet until he got tired of it and snapped himself over and darted back under the couch. “Little stinker.”
Twilight giggled. “She is, sometimes.”
“What? No, the cat.” She laughed. “But Rainbow is, too. And don’t you dare tell her I said that.”
“I won’t… Stars above, I don’t need any more complications.” The Twilight on the other end of the line sounded suddenly weary, on the border of exhausted collapse, not the cheerful, happy Twilight who’d called.
“Hey, what’re you talking about?” Rainbow’s voice, just loud enough to come over the mic. “You okay?”
Sunset’s heart skipped a beat.
“It’s okay, Dash…” Twilight’s yawn sounded so convincing Sunset almost believed it was real. “Just a caffeine crash…”
“You didn’t need to cover for me.” Sunset chuckled. “I’ve called her worse than a stinker before.” She didn’t add ‘In jest,’ and pushed away the memories of calling her worse, and treating her worse. Not that Dash had been much kinder to her. “I would have deserved whatever came.”
“No, you wouldn’t have, and I wasn’t.” The stern iron came back into Twilight’s voice briefly, and flaked away just as quickly. “Ugh… today’s just been…” Twilight yawned again, through loud just before it cut out. “I’m exhausted, Sunny.”
“You go sleep. I need to get ready anyway.”
“You’re not tired?”
“Heh, no.” Of course her body betrayed her, letting loose a deep, loud yawn. “Ignore me… I’m wide awake.” And I need a shower, and to shave my legs, and maybe do my hair… “Go on, sleep. I’m hanging up now.”
“‘Kay. Love you, mom. Bye.” A startled squeak came from the phone. “Sunset, bye!”
There was a brief rustle, and Twilight squeaking something else unintelligible.
“She’s adorable,” Rainbow said, voice clear.
“Hey, give that back!” Another brief rustle, and Twilight’s voice came through clearer again. “We’re about three hours out.”
Sunset laughed. “Go take a nap.” She waited for the phone to go dead, blinked at it when she got a rapid dial tone, shrugged, and added, “Love you, too.” She sat there, the phone bleeping loudly in her ear, for a long time before she shook herself, yawned, and pulled herself up.
She really didn’t feel tired as she bounced up the steps to take a shower, and she laughed at her smile in the hallway mirror. So corny, that smile, but it felt right. She giggled, bit her lip, and bounced into the bathroom.
If this were a dream, she didn’t want to wake from it. Everything felt right about it.
The feeling didn’t last long past the shower.
Sunset swiped another damp strand of hair from her face, sighed, and surveyed the mess on her bed. Hangars lay strewn everywhere, and a bevy of blouses already dangled from one of the posts. It looked better than it had before her shower, but she was regretting showering first, now. Laundry should have been first, and a set of clean towels.
Underwear was priority one, now. For a moment, she was thankful she wasn’t currently suffering that peculiar human cycle, the period, and added both tampons and pads to her mental shopping list for the next time she went out. It was getting quite long, she mused as she sorted out something to wear from the detritus of days gone without fully keeping up with her chores.
Shampoo, conditioner, lotion, exfoliating scrub… She sighed, filed the mental list away for later, and shoved everything off the bed and into the hamper. Fabric softener, detergent…
She would just have to hope Twilight wouldn’t arrive before the dryer was done—and was doubly thankful that the Peaches hadn’t opted for the full rural experience of a clothesline in their old age. Both washer and dryer were modern, to be easier on their aging backs, they claimed.
Once the washer was going, she settled down in front of the mirror, drawing closed the borrowed bathrobe, with its faint smell of talcum powder and old lady scents, and contemplated what to do about her hair.
She quite liked the way her hair went wild when she did nothing with it, just curly enough to avoid being boringly straight, but not so unruly that it turned into a wild mess of frizz in the least humidity. But she wanted to do something special with it. Rarity was always going on about this or that hairstyle, despite the fact she never did anything different with her own.
And when asked: “Why mess with perfection, darling? If it was good enough for Mare Lynn Monroe… well, who am I to argue with the classics?”
At that point, she had begun tuning Rarity out whenever she went on about changing other’s styles. Now, she wished she had at least paid a little more attention. Her damp, lank hair defied her imagination. Sunset gold and red, more suited to the fire her hair usually ended up resembling than anything she had seen other girls sporting.
She plucked at a strand, then gathered it all up in both hands behind her head and studied herself in the mirror. She looked alien, her face far too large with her hair pulled back, every feature emphasized rather than framed and offset by a stray curl here or there, and ears sticking out when they usually stayed under cover. She couldn’t quite wrap her mind around how to manage a change, much less what to change it to.
She let her hair drop again from the ponytail and flicked the tip of her nose, stubbornly intruding into her peripheral vision. She got up to check the wash again. In went a cap of softener, and she closed it again.
Instead of returning to her room, she slumped down against the whirring machine and flicked an unruly strand back and forth where it dangled just shy of her nose.
“It’s just hair! Why is this so hard to manage?” She snapped the strand back into her mane and smoothed her hair against her neck with suddenly shaky hands as she pressed a cheek to her knee, grateful for the solidity. “Why do I even care?”
Because I care.
The tiny voice, Twilight’s voice, sent a crack through a wall she’d only barely shored up when she had first texted Twilight. In the moment after, she had immediately wished she could recall it and, instead, had only compounded the fracture.
It had broken again when Twilight had pushed her to tell her the truth, and only numb shock had allowed her to recover.
Squeaker found her again, nuzzled against her knee and jumped to her shoulder. Just when she thought he was going to settle there, his weight a comforting warmth, he abandoned her to seek the whirring, warm top of the washer, his tail slapping her in the face as he leapt.
“Fine!” He’s just a cat. He was her cat as much as he was the Peaches’. Even at the height of her arrogance, she had loved him. He was no obstacle, and never demanded more than food for his affection.
“Darn cat…” She pressed harder to the washer, imagining for a moment that its whirring was his, and that he was pressed against her back. But it was not, and he didn’t.
She swallowed a sob and pressed her cheek to her knee more firmly, eyes squeezed shut over tears that still flooded down her cheeks, despite her attempts to hold herself above and away from the lonely ache in her heart. The washer shook, or she did, but she held onto the edge of her sanity with the promise that she would not be alone for long.
Her friends would come, and she wouldn’t be alone. Twilight would come and fix everything, one methodical solution at a time. It became her mantra for a long moment, as it had when she had waited that long day for Twilight’s call, hope fading away slowly until the moment her cell phone rang.
The washer shuddered to a stop, but it was a long time before it felt like her world stopped quaking and could bring herself to stand and shift her clothes from washer to dryer. It was longer still, leaning against the warm, humming machine, feeling the chill in her fingers and the icy knot in her stomach melt away before she could bring herself to acknowledge the salty crust under her eyes for what it was and wipe it away.
“Not long, Sunny,” she whispered, and sniffled. She didn’t want to imagine what she looked like, but she should look as best as she could for Twilight.
She won’t care if you look like a wreck.
“But I do.”
Why?
She shrugged, folding her arms across her chest and shrugging deeper into the borrowed robe. The slow countdown of minutes on the digital readout gave no answer.
“Because she cares,” she murmured finally, repeating the soft, imagined voice. “She really cares about me. And I want to show that I care, too.”
“But, why?”
She stared at herself in the mirror, running a hand through the almost dry, wavy half-curls of her hair, still warm from the hair dryer.
“What does me looking my best have to do with me caring about her?” She sighed and picked up the bristle brush, swiping it through the still damp, tighter curls at the nape of her neck, and watched herself in the mirror. She thought, with her hair almost dry and nearing the full body she loved—something she couldn’t have had as a pony—that she looked healthier than she felt, more or less.
Even the dark circles under her eyes looked a little less puffy after a shower. She really should have something other than snack food to eat, but she was actually dressed in clean clothes, freshly scented and still warm, for the first time in days. Fixing something to eat felt like too monumental a task for her flagging reserves. But… maybe a little makeup, to reduce the darkness even further. Or concealer, to hide all but the slight puffiness.
The impulse to do just that struck her as so odd for a moment that she stopped and stared at herself.
“You don’t want her to worry. You’re planning on hiding it again, aren’t you? Pretending like the dreams don’t bother you?” She snorted and slashed the brush through her hair, closing her eyes against the absurdity. “You already told her everything, idiot.” There wasn’t any more hiding.
She tried to recall the last time she’d slept clean through the night, but a month of worsening nightmares following the Rainbow Cascade and the Sirens’ defeat had turned everything before then into a muddle of confusion. She pursed her lips at her reflection and shook her head. No makeup. No artifice. No hiding how much she was hurting.
She resumed brushing out her hair. Not hiding her pain was no reason to look like a slob.
Half an hour later, with maybe half an hour left, she sat back down in the recliner but left the TV off.
Squeaker was back underneath the couch, his crooked tail just barely visible under the ruffle, twitching to the sound of the mantlepiece clock. The clock ticking down, or up, to the moment when Twilight would knock on the door, and…
And what?
The question and the slow ticking chased her down into sleep.
She jerked awake as soon as her eyes closed. The clock said less than a minute had gone by.
No. She squinted at it again, rubbing away the cruft gumming her eyelids, and blinked as the calculation, not quite automatic anymore after years of getting used to digital, meandered through her mind. An hour had passed. Three in the morning, and no knock from Twilight. She checked her cell. No missed calls. Squeaker’s tail was still where it had been when she’d fallen asleep, though the twitch of his tail had slowed to once every fourth or fifth tick of the clock.
It was happenstance that made her look outside to see the flare of headlights against the windbreak trees. Against, not through.
She jerked upright, aware with adrenaline clarity of the low rumble of a car’s engine, the crunch of gravel under tires, and the almost inaudible thundering of her own heart. No time to check her appearance one last time, and none at all to conceal her haggard look.
One last swipe at her eyes before she stood and flicked on the porchlight, then opened the inner door.
The muscle car rumbled into the pool of bright light in front of the house, purred briefly, and wound down to the quiet humming of the engine block’s fan and the tick-tick-tick of cooling metal.
Interior lights bloomed as the car’s doors swung open, highlighting Flash Sentry and Sonata Dusk as they scrambled out. Behind them, already pushing past folded down seats, were Rainbow Dash and Twilight Sparkle.
A moment of fear, of wondering if it was a dream, and she laughed aloud at herself. In her dreams, the Twilight who tormented her was graceful and cold as winter, always logical and precise. This Twilight, stumbling out of the car and hanging onto Sonata for balance, was neither graceful nor cool, instead giggling at her own wobbliness and making a joke about noodle-legs and long trips.
The laughter faded when Twilight looked up, meeting her eyes. Sunset felt the sudden panic she saw there as though it were her own, and tugged at her shirt sleeve, wondering how she must look to them in a mismatched pair of shorts, a too-long tee, and no makeup.
She tried to smile to make up for her disheveled appearance, but the trembling of it threatened to break down the dam holding her emotions in check.
“Hey, Sunny. We’re here,” Twilight’s voice trembled in the night air, and it felt like she shook with it, to the core of her.
“I-I—” Even her voice sent cracks through her crumbling control. She nodded, pushing open the storm door and stumbling out onto the porch, past the scattered few early bugs attracted by the bright floodlight, and collapsed, shaking on the top step, fighting to control the pain, and to keep herself from throwing herself at her friend. She couldn’t be too desperate. She had to… to… Breathe. But she was breathing.
She had to be. Chest rising and falling. Check.
Something else was wrong…
“You’re here,” she whispered. She stood up and took another step forward as Twilight leapt towards her. She laughed at the giddy feeling bubbling up in her stomach, at the shakiness in her hands and voice, and the pain in her chest. But when she closed her eyes to push back the ache, Other Twilight was there with slapping hoof, fire in her eyes, anger in her voice, and blackness closing all around.
“You will rot in this cell, Sunset Shimmer. For treason, for enslaving the minds of sentient beings, and for the attempted murder of a crowned Princess.” Princess Twilight’s cold, stony face did not flinch or turn aside from the pronouncement of sentence. “For these crimes, you will spend the rest of a very, very long life alone.”
Nopony and no one came to wake her from the nightmare. The black void swallowed her whole, cutting off the last whispers of sound as Twilight’s hooves carried her away, leaving Sunset to drift in darkness, the void so complete not even her scream made a sound.
Alone. So it was all just a dream. Just another dream.
“Sunny! Sunny, wake up!” Soft, cold hands alighted on Sunset’s face, probing and brushing at her cheeks, her brow, and her lips. “Flash! She’s bleeding.”
“Calm down! What happened? Sonata!” The rapid patter of crunching gravel stopped. “Go sit down, you’re freaking me out.”
You’re a dream… She tried to push away the hands, but nothing happened.
Not nothing. Twilight whimpered and those soft, cold fingers pressed against her lips more firmly. A flicker of light danced in front of her eyes and wound its way through her, familiar and alien at the same time.
“She’s breathing.” A man’s voice, or a teen’s. Two pairs of hands touched her face and neck. One, with callous roughened fingers, kept pressed to her neck. Two more, soft and cold and trembling, cradled her cheeks. “And her pulse is strong, but really fast. Keep her neck straight.”
“I know. I know.” Twilight’s voice gained strength and purpose. “I was a Wilderness Girls scout. For a while.” The strength in that voice waned as fingers stroked her cheek. “I read the survival manual cover-to-cover.”
“Twi! What happened?” More footsteps, a scrabble close by, and there was suddenly another warm presence at her side. “I was getting our stuff, and the next thing I know, you’re screaming.” Another hand rested on her face briefly, warm and rough. “Is she okay?”
More lights flickered, purple and blue twining together and breaking apart, igniting other splashes and sparks of pink and yellow, white and orange. She reached for them in a way that wasn’t physical, and felt them twine around her hoof, then her hand, then a hoof again. She focused, pushing aside the hum that rose as the colors built. The hoof solidified into a hand, and stayed a hand. She stared at it, wondering.
“What happened isn’t important right now. Flash, call an ambulance,” Twilight’s voice came crisply, the strength in it surging again. “I’ll keep watch over her. Rainbow?” The other hand lifted. “Go see if you can find some first aid supplies. This cut needs to be closed. Some water, too, and a pillow for her wrist.”
“Her wrist?”
My wrist? She couldn’t move it, or any part of herself, but the panic she should have felt seemed distant, someone else’s. She reached for it, but drew back as someone else’s pain struck her, too: a great swelling ache that pulsed just beyond the limits of her awareness. The pain swelled further as the phantom arm shifted. Why aren’t I scared? And why is it so dark?
“I think it might be sprained. It’s swollen. I just hope it’s not broken, she took a nasty tumble. Something to splint it, too. Find some wood, or silverware, or anything long and hard, and some tape if nothing else.”
“Yes, ma’am!” Feet scuttled up the steps, across the hardwood porch, and into the house before she lost track. Why can’t I see? Is this another dream?
The voices persisted and, shaky as they were, so did her thoughts. And the hands on her cheeks, constant and tender, sent a steady stream of light into her darkened world. Twilight’s hands, she thought. How could she think they were anything but real? They weren’t how she had always imagined Twilight’s hands would feel, not this chilly damp. They should be warm and soft.
But that warm light surrounding her…
“Don’t cry Sunny, it’ll be okay. We’re here for you.” Fingers brushed away a trail of heat from her cheeks, and smoothed a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I think it’s a dream,” she murmured softly. “Are you dreaming now, Sunny? What did this to you?”
‘I don’t know.’ She tried to push the words out, but her body lay still as a log, and she trapped within it.
“Medical emergency,” Flash’s voice said distantly. “My friend collapsed. She’s breathing, but she’s not responding. Sprained wrist, maybe. She landed on it funny, just folded up and… and… No. I’m alright. The address here is 1540 217th Avenue, way outside of town to the west. Okay. Okay. Thank you. Ambulance is on its way! Yes. I can stay on the line.”
Something tickled Sunset’s memory, about an ambulance. She groped after it, but caught only a handful of impressions that it wouldn’t be good, and a faint memory of an illness when she’d first arrived.
“Oh, thank goodness.” Twilight’s breathing slowed, but the hand on her lips didn’t move. “Sorry, Sunny… I kinda punched you while trying to catch you. It was an accident.”
‘It’s okay.’ The words sat at the edge of her awareness, dangling off the tip of her tongue.
“Sonata! Sit down. Please. I’m trying really, really hard not to freak out right now. Actually, go do whatever Twilight tells you to do.”
“Sonata,” Twilight said, “go see if you can find out what’s keeping Rainbow Dash, please.”
“Yes ma’am!”
Flash’s voice continued in the background. “Okay. Yes, another friend is keeping her stable, and managed to catch her before her head hit. Okay, thank you. No drugs. No, she doesn’t drink.”
All through it, the cool, soft hand stroked over her brow and cheeks. Under the back of her head, it felt warmer and firmer, and the top of her head was incomprehensibly pressed up against something softer that rose and fell in time with Twilight’s soft breath sifting over her face, occasionally trembling when fingers touched her brow or her cheek or her nose.
Steps came closer, and then the calloused hand was on her cheek, then her forehead. “Cool,” Flash’s voice said again. “But she’s had a hard time sleeping. And I don’t know how well she’s been eating.” His voice dropped. “Twi, check her eyes.”
“Okay. Just hold on, Sunny.” Twilight’s voice sounded strained, but solid, and her fingers warm, soft. Light flooded Sunset’s world, and she tried to blink, but fingers held her eyes open. Twilight’s face, tear-streaked, leaned in close, upside down, her cell phone with its bright light shining directly into her eyes.
Everything made sense, then. She was laying on her back, her head was in Twilight’s lap. Rather than grow weaker in that harsh light, the flickers of light in her void solidified, becoming ribbons that drifted about her, purple and blue strongest, and two more grayed out colors beyond them, sparking briefly.
“Sunset? Sunny? Can you hear me?” Twilight’s lips moved, and then her voice penetrated, as though Sunset were watching a badly dubbed foreign film. “I think she can hear me. Yes, her pupils are contracting. Her eyes aren’t following me, though.” A tiny voice garbled something unintelligible close by, and Flash’s face came into view, then backed out again.
Sunset reached up to touch Twilight’s face, to see if it was real, if anything was real… Her hand moved, but not her hand. She waved it about, seeing Twilight’s face through it, and even when her eyes closed again, she saw it standing out in the dark. Not real, but she stretched towards where Twilight’s face had been, in the same way she had reached earlier, only reaching out instead of in.
The wispy flesh of her fingers traced over soft, tear-damped skin, the texture alive and firm under her touch, and sparkles of light ignited where dream-flesh met reality, lighting Twilight’s face in the void.
‘Thank you for being here, Twilight. You’re a great friend.’
Twilight jerked as though prodded, and reached up to touch where Sunset’s ghostly fingers rested. “Sunny? I… can hear you.” She found and pressed against Sunset’s hand, cradling it. “I can feel your hand. What’s going on?”
‘It’s the Elements,’ Sunset tried to say, and saw understanding flicker through Twilight’s eyes just before they closed, a look of fierce concentration bunching her brow and pursing her lips.
“Is that what those lights are? I thought they were all of you…” Twilight’s voice sounded in her ears and mind both, echoing across the darkness. In the light of the sparks, Twilight’s face bloomed in a brilliant smile. “I was right! I can see them all so clearly! I can… If I could just touch—”
Without any more warning, a torrent of rainbow light surged down Sunset’s phantom arm, searing away the remnants of the void with a rainbow flood of love, a little bit gleaned from each of her friends.
The dark purple band glowed strongest at first. In it, she caught a glimpse of pony Twilight looking up from a book, frowning, then shaking her head and turning away. Twilight Sparkle’s human face took its place, wonder etched in every line, eyes wide and mouth open. The other bands lit up, each showing a pony face first, distracted and looking off into the distance and then dismissed, replaced by a familiar human face filled with shocked awe, each of them watching her.
As the six bands spread their light, bright as a noonday sun, her heart leapt out to join them as a streak of scarlet with the same vibrant life and unrepentant joy that filled her when they sang. Understanding came as she joined them, her heart bursting with song and joy for just an instant.
She wasn’t alone, and the only place she had been was in her imagination, and in her nightmares. This was the reality, not the nightmares and not her fears. With that realization, the lights faded away, leaving her laying on the hard ground, blinking up at an open-mouthed, wide-eyed Twilight Sparkle.
“You’re here.” This time, when she reached up to stroke Twilight’s cheek, her hands were solid flesh, aching and swollen though they were, it still hurt less than not assuring herself Twilight wasn’t going away. She stroked Twilight’s warm cheeks, her own wet with tears and quivering as she laughed, her smile blooming strong and sure. Just that was enough to break down the dam, letting out the wearying loneliness, the freakish feeling of alienation, and the fear that the nightmares were true, and her life was the dream.
All of them tore through her, wrenching free in wracking sobs.
She lost track of time as she cried, her face pressed into Twilight’s stomach and thigh, burrowing as close into the source of warmth and comfort as she could even while it felt as though all her world—the carefully constructed illusions, the lies and falsehoods—all of it was stripped away. There would be no more “No, really, I’m okay” brush-offs to hide behind. It left her pain naked and raw, bleeding out while Twilight stroked her hair and her back.
Throughout it all, Sunset couldn’t let go of her friend’s steady presence, afraid to her core that, if she did, the void would come back and reveal this all to be another dream, just another cruel barb meant to make her more vulnerable. Even that fear bled away, just another hiccup and muffled wail smoothed away with a coo and a soft hand.
Don’t leave me, she tried to say several times, but the words stuck in her throat, choked off by another sob and how stupid it sounded as soon as she tried.
Twilight seemed to understand, and held her close, whispering, “We’re here, Sunny. We’re here,” over and over, mantra-like. But it felt like she was saying it to mean ‘I’m here.’
She wasn’t alone, and that was enough to make the pain and suffering of the last month worth it, just to know that she wouldn’t have to face it by herself.
When her last hiccup dwindled away, her throat raw, Sunset let go her death grip on Twilight and pushed herself up awkwardly on one arm. Twilight’s jeans and shirt were a sodden mess, and her cheeks shone in the porch flood light and Flash’s headlights.
“N-no, no… she’s fine, I think. She’s done crying. I… no. No. She’s sitting up.” Flash paced back and forth to the side, one hand scrubbing furiously through his hair, and darted glances at them, then away. Sonata kept pace with him, one hand always on his back or his shoulder. He stopped pacing, his eyes still wide, and knelt beside Sunset, a hand on her shoulder. “Sure… You okay for an ambulance ride, Sunny?”
Sunset shook her head. She didn’t want to go to the hospital, be taken away from Twilight and Rainbow, to be left alone in a room because she had no family with visitation rights. “N-no.” She hated that her voice broke when she tried to say it, and she forced herself to say it slower, steadier. “No. I’m fine. Please. No ambulance.”
Flash nodded and paced away again to speak to the person on the other end. “Sorry, she’s refusing an ambulance.” A loud voice on the other line started in on what sounded like a blistering lecture. He grimaced at Twilight, mouthing ‘You owe me big time,’ and walked away to sit on the hood of his car, Sonata following him with one arm teasing around his waist.
Sunset let herself be pulled up to sit awkwardly leaned against Twilight’s side, her injured arm pressed across her stomach.
A few minutes passed, Flash nodding and grunting, or speaking too low to be heard, and he hung up. Sonata hugged him close and helped him back up.
“What was that all about?” Twilight asked. “You’re not in trouble, are you?”
“A talking to my parents when they get back, maybe, but that’s it. They said the ambulance would still come, standard procedure.” He shrugged, glancing briefly at Sunset. “It’s about ten minutes out. I should probably leave before they get here. Might still avoid a talking to. Maybe.”
“Thank you, Flash.” Sunset held up her good hand to him, and he pulled her, then Twilight up to stand, brushing gravel off their pants.
Twilight took a step forward and tugged Sunset back, one arm around her waist to steady her. “Let’s go inside. You need to lay down and get something to eat. Er… get something to eat and then lay down. You look terrible.”
“But I need to…” She waved vaguely at the road, barely visible through the trees. In the far distance, a pair of headlights wove across the patchwork, steadily getting closer to the farm.
“No, you don’t. Not tonight.” With iron in her voice, and without waiting for her to say anything more, Twilight turned her around to start up the steps to the porch. “I’ll call you tomorrow, Flash,” she called over her shoulder. “At noon.” A sudden yawn broke her stride, and she shook her head. “At—”
“I’ll come over. Evening, okay? It’s easier to talk that way.” He waved vaguely at them and headed back to his car. Sonata slipped her hand to his briefly before they broke apart.
Sunset watched them over her shoulder for a long moment as they pulled away, only turning back when Twilight tapped her ear and led her inside.
Rainbow Dash was sitting on the couch, pillow dangling from one hand, and a water bottle laying on the ground at her feet. She looked up as the storm door squeaked open, frowned at Sunset, then at Twilight, supporting her with one arm around her waist.
Please, don’t say anything, Dash.
“So… I guess not necessary?” Rainbow looked at the water bottle and pillow, then out the door as Flash drove off. “Twi, what was that? That was magic, I know it was, but… were those… us? As ponies?” She shifted a glance and a grin at Twilight. “You’re even more adorable as a pony.”
Twilight rolled her eyes, smiling. “You’re one to talk.”
“Hey, I look awesome as a pony! Man, I wish I had that wingspan. Or yours. Wow. I mean… those wings.” Rainbow stretched her arms out as wide as she could, laughed, and shook her head. “Wow.”
Sunset let herself be led through the living room to the kitchen, Rainbow following behind them with both pillow and water bottle in hand, and urged to sit in the largest chair, reserved for Mrs. Peach when she was there, and smelling as she did of the faint musty odor of the elderly. She was too tired to protest, and took it as a measure of her exhaustion that she didn’t fight being treated like an invalid.
Well, aren’t I?
“Here, Sunny girl, have a seat.” Twilight pulled out a chair and sat beside her, just as a knock sounded at the front door.
“Rainbow, it’s the ambulance.”
The next few minutes passed in a veritable whirlwind as a man and a woman came in, first aid and trauma kits held at their sides. They hit her with a barrage of questions about abuse and neglect, followed up with a quick inspection of her wrist and the purpling bruise on her lip.
The woman flashed a bright pen-light in her eyes and gave her some simple tasks to do before she closed up the trauma kit, shrugged at her partner, and pulled out a clipboard while he unrolled a splint and wrapped her hand and forearm up to the elbow.
“Ma’am, I think everything’s going to be okay. I don’t think you’ve broken anything, but we should probably get it—”
“No. It’ll be fine.” Sunset resisted the urge to pull her hand free, wincing at the pulse of cold ache as the man set the final wrap in place and cracked the bubble on a cold compress. “Just need to keep it stable for a while.”
He frowned. “Ma’am, if you have a crack in your wrist, even, it could get infected. Happened to a buddy of mine, and I see it all the time in the ER. Trust me, you don’t wanna mess with that kind of pain. I’ve seen folks lose hands and feet from that kind of thing.”
“No. Doctors.” She held back a shudder, and pushed back the memory of the last time, trapped in the office, her false identity exposed, and a nurse watching her with maternal worry. Talking her way out of that mess had taken every lie she could muster.
He shrugged, his expression carefully neutral, and closed the first aid kit. “If I could see some ID, then, we need to mark down your information and…”
He droned on as Sunset’s mind fled down the branching paths of the future. Back in the systemher name would go. There, it would link up with the other lies, paperwork would be drawn up, fraud investigations started. Months might pass, but they would find out, and then…
What? No more school, no more friends?
She shuddered. “I… I just have my school ID, but it’s in my locker at school. I don’t even have a driver’s permit yet.” That, at least, was true.
The man looked up at the woman, raised an eyebrow, and she shrugged. “Alright,” he said. “We’ll be sending a bill to this address in a few days.” At least it would delay the inevitable.
She sighed, and nodded, wondering how she would explain it to the Peaches.
They left, tipping their hats as they went, and the roar of the ambulance’s engine quickly faded away into nothing.
“What do you do when you get sick, then? Or get hurt?” Twilight recaptured the hand, sliding her grip up to Sunset’s elbow, holding it steady.
“I don’t.”
“Uh-huh.” Rainbow snorted. “You can’t be a bully and not get hurt. Comes with the territory. Someone’s gonna fight back. Can’t not get sick at school, neither. Geeze, every other week there’s some kid who infected their class with the whositwhatsit fever or something.”
Twilight watched her quietly for a long moment, her purple eyes unreadable, her lips pursed in a faint frown. When she spoke, it was slowly, as though working out a puzzle for herself. “You’re not from this world. How have you managed to keep your identity? The school, I understand. You needed a home address, and someone to sign paperwork, and that was pretty much it. But how have you managed taking care of yourself other ways?”
“Tomorrow,” Sunset muttered, leaning back and trying to tug her arm away from Twilight. “Tomorrow, please.” Please just drop it entirely.
“Oh. Right. Sleep.” Twilight flushed bright red, but didn’t let go of Sunset’s elbow. “Sorry.”
“Uh… food?” Rainbow tapped Twilight on the back of the head and draped her arms over Twilight’s shoulders, propping her chin on the other’s head. “Didn’t you say something about getting her to eat something?”
“Fine.” Sunset turned her eyes away from them for a moment. “I’ll eat.”
Twilight shrugged Rainbow’s arms away, and shot her a look that Sunset interpreted as ‘Not now.’
Rainbow sighed and slumped into another chair, closing her eyes and dropping her head to her crossed arms.
Twilight shifted her gaze between her and Rainbow, huffed a breath, and closed her eyes. “It’s been a long night. What would you like, Sunset? Anything at all.”
“Anything?” Sunset softened her voice, smiling. “Anything at all?
Twilight shook her head, rolling her eyes. “Within the realm of possibility.”
“I’d like an HLT, please.”
Rainbow snorted, covering her mouth with a hand quickly.
“And just what is an HLT?” Twilight reached out to prod Sunset. “I said real food, remember?”
“Hey, it’s a real sandwich.” She coughed. “In Equestria. Hay, lettuce, and tomato.” She quirked an eyebrow at Twilight, felt herself grin, and giggled at the glower on the other’s face. “Oh, come on. It’s a joke. I can’t eat hay anymore.” She smiled wider when she saw the twinkle in Twilight’s eyes, and an echo of that same mirth bubbling up in her and pushing away her exhaustion. I’ve missed this. “Bean sprouts are fine.”
“Why can’t any of my friends just be normal?”
“How boring would we be then?” Sunset laughed at Twilight’s stuck out tongue. “Who else can claim they have a pony for a friend?”
Twilight shook her head, rolled her eyes, and got up to make the sandwich. “You’re not actually joking about the bean sprouts, right?”
“Nope. It’s a BLT.”
Rainbow snorted a laugh and kicked her under the table. “You are such a horse.”
“Pony.”
“Equine.”
“Unicorn.”
Rainbow glared at her, lips pursed.
Not so easy to retort against that! Sunset beamed a smile across the table.
“I swear to bacon that I will replace every bean sprout in the city with bacon strips if you keep this up!” Twilight said, waving a strip of pre-cooked bacon at them before taking a bite. She had three plates out, a packet of bacon strips, and one of bean sprouts besides a head of lettuce and a tomato.
“Did you just swear to bacon?” Rainbow smirked.
“Yes, and by bacon, I will smack the both of you if you don’t stop butting heads. I swear, it’s like you’re two kids who just discovered insults.”
Rainbow quirked an eyebrow at Sunset. “Doodie-head.”
“Fart breath.”
Twilight split her glare between the two of them, but couldn’t hide her smile for long.
An hour later, laying on her back in bed, with a cool, wet rag wrapped in a plastic baggie laying on her splint, she was no closer to going to sleep than she had been in the last half hour. Twilight had decided for all of them that Sunset would sleep in her bed, and she and Rainbow would take the couch and the loveseat.
Alone, and not alone. She sighed, wondering if the dreams would come for her that night, or if she would be spared them for once. Well, if she didn’t sleep, she couldn’t dream, and if she couldn’t dream…
Then the nightmares can’t get you, can they?
“Go ‘way.” She started to roll over to her side, but her wrist quickly reminded her why she was lying on her back. “Darnit…”
A floorboard creaked outside her room.
“Hello?” Long seconds ticked by on the little alarm clock beside her bed.
“Can I talk to you?” It was Rainbow Dash.
A curt retort formed on her lips, but she swallowed it. “Yes.”
Rainbow didn’t turn on the lights when she came in, only shuffled forward with uncertain steps until her leg bumped against Sunset’s bed.
“You couldn’t sleep either?”
“Duh.”
“Hey, I’m trying to be nice!”
Sunset groaned and rubbed at her face, grateful for the concealing darkness. “I know, I know. I just seem to run on bitch mode automatically when I’m tired. Can you forgive me?”
“Yeah.” Rainbow sat on the edge of the bed and groped around until she found Sunset’s arm, her voice dropping to almost a whisper. “I wanted to talk to you about Twilight.”
“Makes two of us, then. What about her?”
“She talked to you about me, right?” Rainbow’s fingers tensed on her bicep, knuckles perilously close to pressing into the side of her breast. Rainbow seemed to realize it, too, and slid her grip up to Sunset’s shoulder. “I mean… she said she did.”
“Yeah. She did. In confidence,” Sunset said, matching Rainbow’s hushed tone.
“No… no. I don’t want to hear about what she told you. I… I can kinda guess what she said already.” The tired defeat in Rainbow’s voice touched off an echo in her own heart. “You know how I feel about her.” It wasn’t a question. “I know how you feel about her, too.” It wasn’t an accusation, but a statement.
“Do you?” Do I? She shook off the thought. “I’m a pony, Dash. My ideal of beauty is different from yours.”
Rainbow thumped her shoulder. “Yeah, that’s a bunch of bull.”
“And how do you know?”
“I know.” Rainbow shrugged, a shifting of the darkness. “That’s not what I wanted to talk about, though. I… She doesn’t want to be with me.”
Sunset waited, gnawing her lip.
Rainbow sucked in a deep breath, let it out, and her grip on Sunset’s shoulder tightened almost to the point of being painful. “How can I let her go?”
“What?” Sunset blinked and tried to sit up. It was the last thing she’d expected to hear.
Rainbow pushed her back, barely having to put any effort into it. “No, stay down. Don’t hurt your wrist.” She sighed. “I love her. I know I do.”
Sunset had to force her next words out. “Then why let her go?”
When no answer was forthcoming, Sunset reached up with her good hand, fumbling for Rainbow’s face. She felt a trail of tears under her fingers before Rainbow jerked away.
“Never mind.” Rainbow stood up abruptly, her voice rough. “This was a stupid idea.” She shuffled her way back across the room.
“You can’t,” Sunset said before Rainbow opened the door. “You can’t let her go, Rainbow, you would need to push her away.” What am I saying?
Rainbow shuffled quietly in the dark and grunted as she thumped against something solid. “I couldn’t push her away. And don’t you quote some stupid movie, or book, or philosophical thing about ‘Oh, but it’s what’s best for her.’ That’s bullshit, and you know it.”
“Bull shit is pretty messy in Equestria,” Sunset offered. “When the bulls have access to fast food, it just gets worse.”
Rainbow laughed. “I’d love to see it. The world, not the bulls.”
“I wish I could show all of you. Just for a little bit.” Sunset sighed, shaking her head and sitting up on the edge of her bed, aching arm cradled in her lap. “The lack of cell phones would drive you crazy inside five minutes, I’m sure.” She glanced at where her cell phone would be lying in the dark on her bedside table. “I’m not sure I wouldn’t go nuts either. It takes a day for a fast pegasus to deliver a message from Canterlot to Manehattan, days if you use ground or a standard courier.”
“Wow… dark ages, much?”
“The trains would argue with your assessment,” Sunset said with a laugh. “As would the magic-powered airships.”
Rainbow laughed with her, but it subsided quickly, and Sunset heard the slow rasp of cloth on wallpaper as Rainbow slid to the floor.
“I can’t push her away, Sunset. And I’m not sure I can stop feeling like I do. Can’t I just… decide? Just say ‘I don’t love her anymore.’ and move on? She doesn’t love me, not like that. I know that.”
Her clock ticked insistence at her to move on, say something. What can I say to that? “Do you?” she heard herself ask.
“Yes.” The single, gasped word sounded as though Rainbow had dragged it out with hot tongs. “Damnit. Damnit, damnit.” A solid thump followed each word.
“Rainbow?” Sunset stared hard into the darkness. When her eyes refused to adjust to the utter darkness, she swore under her breath and fumbled for the light by her bed.
Rainbow sat leaning against the wall, face turned to the ceiling. Her cheeks shimmered, and her eyes were bloodshot and puffy. She gave Sunset a despairing look, features slack, eyes glistening in the light as she blinked rapidly and turned her gaze back to the ceiling, snuffled, and scoured her cheeks dry with the bottom of her shirt.
“What should I do?” Rainbow asked after a long moment of staring up at the ceiling.
“Why are you asking me?”
Rainbow shrugged. “She trusts you.”
“Do you?”
She shrugged again.
Sunset sighed loudly, rolling her eyes. “I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.” When only a sullen glare came as answer, she slid from the bed to sit next to Rainbow, accepting the other girl’s offered hand as she held her injured wrist above her head. To her surprise, Rainbow settled an arm around Sunset’s shoulders, but didn’t pull her close.
Am I really that shaky looking?
“You really should be in bed.”
Apparently so. Sunset shot her a glare and got a snicker in return. “So should you.”
“Couldn’t sleep. I was trying to find the bathroom.”
“First floor, goof. I showed you.”
“Yeah. I’m tired, okay? Can’t lie all that well right now.” Rainbow chuckled, thumping her head back against the wall. “I just… I need to know.”
“Did she tell you she didn’t love you?”
Sunset laid a hand on her knee when Rainbow shook her head. “I don’t think you can say that she won’t ever love you that way.” She gnawed at her lip, twirling thoughts around that felt too sluggish and flowed against her own wants.
Rainbow’s silently shaking head unlocked the fatigue that had been hiding behind the adrenaline and magic-fueled wakefulness. It was all too much to deal with, and all of it hit her like a sledgehammer. She slumped against the wall, vision swimming as exhaustion settled over her like an inexorable wave.
“Hey, you okay?”
“Yeah.” Sunset scrubbed at her face again, settled heavily into it, and felt herself start drifting off, just sitting there. “I’m so tired, Dash. You have no idea.”
“Then let’s—”
“Not yet. I need to tell you something, first.” What? “It’s important.”
Rainbow waited for her, rubbing her opposite shoulder in slow circles, lulling her to the very edge of sleep, until the right chain of thought floated up, dreamlike, to surround her.
“You can’t just decide not to love someone,” she murmured softly, fighting a yawn. “You can try not to, and you might succeed, but you’ll end up hating them instead. You can look for every little thing that annoys you about them, tally up every tiny little imagined wrong, every rebuke for wrongs done until the bad outweighs the good. By the time you don’t love them anymore, you would do anything to get them out of your life.”
Sunset looked down at her hands, curled the one she could move into a close approximation of a hoof, and spread her fingers wide. “You would even abandon an entire world to get away from them, and blame them for driving you away.”
A ghost of a smile flashed across Rainbow’s lips. “And then you would try to take over the world.”
Sunset snorted. “That was… later.”
“Why did you want to stop loving… whoever?”
“Celestia.” Sunset poked Rainbow in the shoulder, grinning at her wide-eyed shock. “Not the Principal. Please, I’m not like that. Princess Celestia, the pony. And I wasn’t in love with her. I loved her like a mother.”
“So, what happened?”
Sunset chewed on her lip, tugging at thoughts that felt they were mired in slush. “It’s… well, it’s not complicated, I guess, looking back. I wanted to learn how to wield the power of the Elements of Harmony before I understood what they were, and what they represented. She understood the dangers far better, however, and forbade me from even looking up the elements. She locked the books away in the scholar’s vault…”
Speaking aloud the events, she felt them unfold again, the old pains of being denied rising to strangle her.
“I wheedled and cajoled for months and, for months, she said I wasn’t ready. Each time she rejected me, I added a tally to the things I hated about her. I hated the way she would not tell me a lesson’s goal, I hated the way she would pretend to be kind and understanding, and only set me up to fail again, and again, and again.” She shook herself. “I know… Now, I know she wasn’t doing anything like that. I owe all of you for teaching me that.”
Rainbow’s hand settled lightly on her knee, glanced aside at her, and nodded.
Sunset smiled at her, patting the hand lightly. “Now, looking back, most of her tasks would have been so much easier if I had slowed down and made friends. Don’t go through that with Twilight. It’s the worst thing in the world to wake up from, and there’s not a day that I don’t wish I could undo what I did.”
“But you can’t. And if you did… you wouldn’t be here.”
“That’s what I tell myself, too. And I don’t think I could go back now. I have ties here, Rainbow. All of you… how could I just up and leave you? You’re the first real friends I’ve ever had, and I love all of you.”
Rainbow nodded, keeping her hand in place on Sunset’s knee, an unreadable expression on her face. When she met Sunset’s eyes, she was frowning. “And Twilight?”
“And Twilight,” she agreed, squeezing Rainbow’s hand.
Rainbow’s frown faded as she pinched the bridge of her nose, shaking her head. “What’re we going to do?”
Sunset prodded Rainbow’s shoulder again. “Not hate each other seems like a good starting point.”
That brought Rainbow’s smile back again. “Yeah. I don’t hate you for loving her. Jealous that you share something that I can’t with her, maybe. That sciencey-magic stuff you two are always whispering about. But I don’t hate you.”
“Heh. I’m jealous that she takes such an interest in your academic career, and that she expands her interests for your sake. She goes to all of your matches, cheers you on…” She sighed. “It makes me want to try out for sports.”
“Well, you should. But I don’t get why you’re jealous. All of you come to my games.”
“I know. I never said it was rational.” Sunset let her head thump back against the wall. “But I don’t hate you for it. I do hate that you make it look and sound so easy when it’s not.”
“Hey, I make everything look easy.”
“Except all that sciencey stuff, right?”
“Bingo.” Rainbow laughed. “Stars above, we’re a pair.”
“Of jackasses.” Sunset patted her friend’s hand lightly. ”So… now what?”
Rainbow shrugged and stood up, offered her hand, and pulled Sunset to her feet. “Tomorrow, I guess, and the day after that. Try to get some sleep, Sunny.”
“Rainbow,” she said, leaning against the door frame, feeling the last dregs of energy draining away. “Thanks for trusting me.”
Rainbow Dash nodded. “Thanks for talking to me. Get some sleep.”
When she collapsed into bed, her stiff wrist doing nothing to waken her at all. Somehow, she remembered to turn off the light, and it was as though she turned off her own consciousness.
Sleep dragged her down into its brute, blessedly silent embrace.
The door to Sunset’s bedroom stood open, as did the window.
Those were the first things she noted on coming to herself from the depths of a dreamless sleep. Someone must have opened them, she mused. She wondered, as she folded back the long sheet, if it had been Rainbow or Twilight who had tucked it under her chin and turned back the heavier, stifling comforter.
A light and cooling breeze drifted back and forth across her nose, and shadows danced across her face. Morning, then. But late morning, she saw, gauging the shadows and light spilling across the bed, heating one side of her, leaving her face in cool, soothing shadow.
A slight creak of metal on metal made her aware with sudden clarity of the girl sitting in her desk chair at the foot of her bed, facing away from her.
Twilight’s hair was bound in a tight ponytail, and she twitched it back and forth against her cheek while her attention was focused on the desktop, her face in half profile against the backdrop of Canterlot Wondercolts memorabilia plastered on the wall above.
Why is she up here? The obvious answer, that they were keeping watch over her, burbled up from her subconscious as her left arm reminded her it was injured. She pushed herself up on one elbow to watch as Twilight lifted a pennant to peek at the poster underneath, then tapped the end of her pen on another for the upcoming Spring Fling, with the date circled in red.
Is she looking for my old trophy pictures?
They had gone into the trash months ago. She watched as Twilight considered a photo of Sunset and her five friends at the last Winter Formal, a replacement for first dance photo, with its triumphant sneer and gloating eyes. The new one was just as professional, just as well lit, but the smile on her face in it… It was real, and she could still recall the feeling of being together with them when it had been taken.
None of them had had dates, and none of them had cared, sharing dances with each other or with a group, or any who asked, but committing to no one partner the entire night. Sunset smiled, remembering the dance she’d shared with Rainbow, each of them trying to lead, getting fed up with each other, and huffing off… Then they laughed it off tried again half an hour later—to the same results.
She stifled a giggle and let her hazy memory drift through the other memories of a slow dance with Fluttershy, light as a feather on her feet and responsive to Sunset’s lead, and not at all shy about being held close by another girl.
Fluttershy had shared three with Rainbow Dash afterwards, including a more energetic dance from a bygone era. She had thought Fluttershy’s blush would never leave, but the girl had thrown herself into the rump-shaking dance with as much energy as her partner and had seemed to enjoy it.
Twilight tilted her head, obscuring the photo as she looked up to study another taken during the end of the Battle of the Bands, the seven of them still in costume and posed with their instruments, except for Twilight standing with the microphone clutched in her hands. She twitched the tail of hair against her cheek and flipped a page. It wasn’t long before the scratching of pen on paper interrupted the near silence of the room.
Sunset pushed herself up in bed to get a peek around Twilight, but couldn’t make out more than the leather-bound edge of the cover.
That journal had been almost a part of Twilight for as long as Sunset had known her. She didn’t favor any of her other notebooks, just the one rumple-paged, well-thumbed book. She always closed it whenever anyone else was around, but never let it leave her sight or her bag. She wasn’t very good at hiding what must have been in it. She fingered it whenever she asked about magic, or Equestria, or anything to do with their friends.
“Twilight?”
The ponytail twitched more violently, but the scratching didn’t cease.
That’s just like her…
Sunset smiled as she took stock of herself, touching her bottom lip where she could feel a rigid line running along it where Twilight had socked her, trying to catch her. The flesh around it must have been purpling, and it throbbed when she touched it, but not near as bad as the throbbing in her left wrist. She couldn’t even twitch her fingers without a sharp stab radiating up her arm. The splint was still in place, but some of the cloth had rolled up to expose the metal clasp rasping at the inside of her elbow.
But she was awake, and her mind felt as if it were unclouded for the first time. Even the birds singing outside in the early spring morning sounded lyrical instead of annoying.
Sunset dragged herself out of bed, letting her feet hit the wood hard enough to thunk, and flapping the sheets away, and thankful she’d gone to bed wearing everything she’d put on the night before. Still, Twilight didn’t shift her attention. Also not unusual, she thought.
“Twilight?” She asked again, and settled her hand on her friend’s shoulder.
Twilight jerked upright, snapping the journal closed, and swiveled around. “Sunset! Don’t scare me like that!”
“I called your name, goofus,” Sunset said with a chuckle.
“Oh. Well…” Twilight drew a deep breath, let it out in a sigh, and dropped her hands to her lap, drumming the pen in a rapid tattoo against her thigh, took another deep breath and stilled herself. “Did you sleep well?”
“Yep. Remind me to knock myself out the next time I need a good night's rest.” She jabbed a finger at the tough ridge on her lip, and laughed at Twilight’s horrified expression. “No, no. Joking, I swear.”
“That wasn’t funny!”
“I know. Sorry.” Sunset scrubbed at her face, trying to erase the smile she could keep away, no matter how she prodded at her bruised lip. “So… what were you writing in there that was so engrossing?”
Twilight’s pen resumed tapping against her thigh, until it sounded like an insane woodpecker, then stopped. “I was writing out… and drawing what our pony selves looked like.” Twilight flushed scarlet, but turned back, hesitated with her hand on the cover, and motioned Sunset closer. “I-I’ll show you.”
She came, settling a hand on Twilight’s shoulder as she stood beside her. Up close, Sunset could tell she had showered not too long ago, her hair as straight and vibrant as ever, but hanging in limp clumps over her shoulders and down her back. Under her palm, Sunset felt the hard line of a bra strap, and let her thumb follow it as far back as Twilight’s shoulder blade.
Twilight jerked forward and rolled her shoulder away with a sharp laugh, shaking her head. “What are you doing? I’m ticklish there.”
“Sorry… Still waking up, I think.”
She rolled her shoulder again, straightening, and turned back to the book. “So… I’ve kept this journal since before…” Her fingers twiddled over the cover as she took a breath. “Since before you and Other Me proved rather conclusively that magic is real.”
As she brushed aside a damp lock of Twilight’s hair so she didn’t tug on it leaning in closer, the scent of her favorite shampoo wafted up from the damp tangle: apples and strawberries, mixed with something else she couldn’t define.
She filed the smell away as Twilight Sparkle, and wanted to sink into it, to pull the lock of hair up to bury her nose in and store away the perfume in her memory. She blinked away the sensation of drifting, as if in a dream, and realized she had been stroking the tangle of hair and Twilight’s neck. Twilight had not looked up, though, and leaned into the touch.
She forced her hand to be still, and forced herself to focus on the first page.
Twilight glanced up at her, meeting her eyes. “I’ve color-coded the corner of each page. Blue is diagrams, green is experimental notes, yellow is… speculation, and red… Red is personal.” The next page she turned to, past the middle, was marked with a red corner and a date a few months ago.
I don’t know where else to turn, Sunset read silently. Mom and dad think I’m lying to them, Shining can’t even talk to me about the case, because he’s been forbidden to access anything regarding the case. All he knows is drips and drops, the same rumors everyone at school keeps repeating. I’m afraid to go to school. Everyone has been playing the videos non-stop whenever I’m around, teasing me and taunting me, calling me a vandal, and miscreant. I don’t even know how to defend myself. There’s video footage of me, in a dress I’ve never seen, with wings that look real, with pony ears. It’s my face. It’s my voice. I can’t even tell it’s not me.
Before she could finish the passage, Twilight flipped through the book, back and forth, past blue and green and yellow so fast Sunset couldn’t make out more than an impression of ordered lines of text and neat, precise diagrams of… something.
She stopped again on a red, the date not far from the first. The lettering was less precise, the lines wavered up and down. I got kicked off the Academic Decathlon team today. They said my scores and response times during the trial events was too low, but I know it’s because of the investigation, and the videos. I’ve never been kicked off of anything before. I shouted at them. I can’t remember what I said, now, but whatever it was, not even Bit will talk to me.
Below the short paragraph, a photo was taped to the page, of a much younger Twilight Sparkle standing beneath a National Academic Decathlon banner beside an older version of herself with paler skin and hair, but the same haircut. On her other side stood a gentleman in a checkered cardigan and tie, glasses settled at a slight skew on his face, his dark blue hair combed back over skin the same shade. Below it, in neat lettering, was Mom, Me, Dad. National Decathlon, fourth grade.
“We didn’t win. Moondancer missed her last question. I tried to talk to her after the meet, but she and her parents were already gone, and I never saw her again. I think she moved away. At least… that’s what Cady told me, later,” Twilight said. “And I never made it to the nationals again.” She touched the words above the picture. “I lied, here. I know what I said. I knew it when I said it, and I wanted to hurt them. I think I only made them angry.”
“Twilight…” Sunset bent to press her chin against her friend’s head, and hugged her about the shoulders. “You don’t have to show me.”
“I do. This was me… before. Before my life got…” Twilight drew a hand up to rub at her face, shaking her head. “It just got all… turned upside down.”
“Shh.” Sunset pulled her closer, easing her wrapped forearm over the other. “Show me something happier.”
Twilight nodded, one hand reaching up to clutch at Sunset’s right hand.
The pages went by more quickly, not lingering long enough for Sunset to read anything more than a sentence or two, and she could make even less sense out of the diagrams and formulae drifting by, giving way to pages and pages of Twilight’s precise hand. The photographs were almost all old memories, with Twilight sometimes appearing even younger, but always with at least one member of her family.
She spied a picture of a very young Twilight laying down beside a scrabble board filled with a great sprawl of complex words spreading out from the center. This younger Twilight’s smile was bright and toothsome, and tucked close to her chin, she held a scorecard reading: Twilight: 460, Cadance: 359.
On the other side of the scrabble board, her hand extending up to the viewpoint, was an older girl with pink, gold, and purple-streaked hair. She had her tongue stuck out, her free hand making ears above Twilight’s straight hair.‘Cadance and I,’ the caption read, ‘Aged ten and sixteen.’
“This was seven years ago… and the first time I beat her. She was so proud of her loss that she had a copy framed. It’s still in her house.” She smiled as she stroked the picture’s edges. “Cadance never doubted me. She was always a bright spot in my life. She even gave me this photo, when I was at my lowest, and we played Scrabble again, not talking or thinking about… the investigation.
“I loved her.” Twilight looked up at Sunset, and tapped the image again. “That day… That was the day I realized I was in love with her, when she relished my victory over her loss. I didn’t know that’s what it was it until two days ago… but looking back, I knew then… Afterwards, it felt like her smiles made my day brighter, and her hugs were precious gifts. I puppy-dogged after her, and she never turned me aside. I think she knew.” Twilight’s face fell. “And she married my brother.”
Before Sunset could say anything in response, Twilight was turning pages again, more slowly as they reached the middle of the journal.
A page drifted past, empty of everything but a short paragraph and a single photo dominating the center. Shining Armor and Cadance stood in front of an altar while a priestess held her hands at chest level, her mouth open in the middle of offering benediction. At Cadance’s side, Twilight stood in a blue dress hemmed with tiny white flowers, her feet almost hidden underneath, and wrapped in a thong sandal. Behind Twilight, a passel of younger girls stood with empty flower baskets, the floor at their feet strewn with petals and stems.
“She loved you, too,” Sunset said, reaching out, then pulling back as Twilight flipped passed.
“I know. But, it hurt,” Twilight said, her voice hoarse. She turned back to the page, and when Sunset looked up, there were tears in her friend’s eyes. “But, I couldn’t not smile. Cadance was so happy, and so was my brother, and I loved—love—them both.” The date scribbled on the margin of the picture was close to two years ago.
“Twilight… I said happier.”
“I am happier, now.” She nodded at the photo, her voice hoarse. “I knew it for a long time, Sunny. She wouldn’t ever love me like I loved her. I think that made it easier. She’s still a big part of my life, and that makes it easier, too.”
With a smile up at Sunset, she turned the page, and kept turning, but slower. Sunset watched a slow flicker of red and yellow-marked pages pass, most filled with Twilight’s handwriting and little else.
When she stopped again, it was at a page filled with precise lettering and marked with a red corner. At the top was a row of six miniature portraits in profile, each done in fine lines and shaded with pencil, one for each of them except Twilight herself.
“You’re pretty good.” Sunset rubbed at her nose as she studied her profile on the page, then reached out to touch the lines defining her nose, offering a smile. “Captured me really well.”
“It’s your hair.” Twilight pushed Sunset’s finger to trace over the wild tangle on the page, her voice gone soft. “I love your hair. It took a long time to get it just right.”
“Really? Not my nose?”
“It’s a proud nose.” Twilight hefted the book, her finger resting beside Sunset’s portrait, then reaching out to touch the tip of her nose. “See? It makes you distinctly you.”
Sunset glanced at the picture, then at the words below, twitching her nose, smiling when Twilight did.
I still don’t understand this magic. Can I trust them enough to bring them home and show them my machine? I need to understand it. I know it’s important, and I like them. I do. And Sunset’s taught me so much about it. Maybe her? I could show her my machine, and my theories. She might just laugh at them. I don’t know anything about magic, or how it works, and she used to be
The text trailed off into an uncertain scrawl, continuing on the next line.
I haven’t told her what I suspect, yet, but I think she guesses more than she lets on. But I feel something now, when I’m with them. I can’t define it, and whenever I think of them, or being around them, my machine chatters at me. I’ve never seen readings like this. Does she feel it, too? I’m afraid to even ask. What if she laughs at me? I feel happy. I don’t want to lose that.
She lifted her eyes from the page to find Twilight studying her, neck twisted so she leaned away, her nose less than a foot from Sunset’s cheek, her lips less than an inch farther away. She could almost see Twilight do the math, too, measuring her progress by the flush rising up her neck.
“I wouldn’t laugh at you. I…” Her own laugh at Twilight’s horrified expression bubbled up in her mind. “I mean, um. I wouldn’t…” She jerked upright, paced back to her bed, and kicked the footboard. “Sorry.” She sat down on the edge of her bed, flopping back onto it, and regretted it as her injured left wrist screamed protest up her arm.
She sucked in a breath and closed her eyes until the pain subsided, thankful all she saw was the haze of a bright day trying to shine through.
Some time later, a hand patted her knee as a weight settled onto the bed on her right side.
“Sunset?”
“Hmm?” Opening her eyes, Sunset found the shadows had lengthened somewhat, and her alarm read one o’clock.
Twilight was sitting on the edge of the bed, one leg crooked so her knee rested against Sunset’s hip, one hand resting still against Sunset’s knee, the other balancing the journal in place atop the curve of her knee. Her bare knee, Sunset realized, as her aching fingers brushed against it. She was wearing shorts.
She pulled the hand back.
Twilight nodded, as if to herself, and stretched out her hand to touch Sunset’s cheek, then her aching lip. “You still look tired, but I don’t think you should sleep too much.” She withdrew, fingering the journal resting on her lap. “We can discuss this later. I-I really should show you the experimental notes, and the readouts from the machine… but I wanted to show you one more thing I’ve been working on. I was working on it when you first woke up, but I didn’t know what you would think of it.”
“You don’t have to show me,” Sunset whispered, surprised to find her voice scratchy. She cleared her throat.
“I want to.” Twilight opened the journal again and flipped a few pages past the middle. Six portraits of six ponies stood in different poses on each page she flipped past, their features at once familiar and alien to Sunset’s eyes. Twilight Sparkle was among them, captured laying on what appeared to be a cloud, a book open across her forelegs. “I’m trying to finish these before the memory of them fades too far. I had no idea I… she… She’s a pony. I’m not sure I understood, not really, until I saw her last night.”
Four of the drawings were still in the first stages of sketching, no more than suggestions of a body and legs, and nothing but their faces possessing any amount of detail. Rainbow Dash stood out as an outline with strong lines marking her body and face, her wings spread wide, and a confused look furrowing her brow.
The clearest was the one of Princess Twilight, her eyes looking directly at the artist, while a faint purse to her lips may have been the start of a word, or simply a sign of confusion. Her wings, too, were done in enough detail to make it obvious to her: Twilight had actually seen the Princess. The plumage on the alicorn’s wings was as rich and full of fluff as Celestia’s, if less broad, the flight feathers shorter, and with a shallower incline to the delicate bones where they rose from her shoulders.
“Twi… wow.” She reached out to touch the page, her fingers staying clear of the clean lines. “You can really draw. She’s beautiful.” She looked up when Twilight made a noncommittal noise. “It’s surprising. That… you can draw so well.” She almost slapped herself in the face.
Twilight shrugged. “I learned because practicing made it easier to draw graphs more accurately, and model the atomic structure of molecules more precisely. But I can’t do imaginary. It’s not real. I can’t… I can’t.” She shook her head, pulling the journal closer, then pushing it towards Sunset again. “Does it look like her?”
“You know, it does. I never got a really good, long look at her when I stole her crown, but…” Sunset hesitated, looking at her hand against the page, and the hooves crossed one over the other against the cloud, and her fingers curled of their own accord into the closest approximation to a hoof she could manage. “Yep. That’s her.” She tucked her hand under her thigh, pushing away the memories threatening to overwhelm her. She could indulge later.
Twilight’s blush crept higher. She folded the journal closed and held it against her chest. “You really are a pony, aren’t you. With hooves and a muzzle, and a tail. You’re not a human with pony ears. I wasn’t sure what you meant by pony when you told me. I mean… the videos showed… and all we get are ears and wings and..." She flicked her ponytail. "When we, er, transform.”
“I was. Four legs, unicorn horn, tail. Hooves. Does it bother you?”
“It’s weird.” Twilight pulled Sunset’s hand free, curling her own fingers to match the hoof-like curl of fingers Sunset had tried to hide. “But, no. It’s also who you are.”
With a nod and a sigh, Sunset dragged herself up with a helpful boost from Twilight, and rubbed at her wrist under the splint.
It itched enough to make her wonder if Dr. Hooves—Soft Hooves, remember? she thought, recalling the scowl whenever she called her Dr. Hooves—would be at the vet clinic later, and if she could beg treatment. Then, she remembered Soft had taken her daughter to Los Pegasus for a convention of some sort. She pushed the itch and anticipation of visiting with Derpy’s mother again aside—something about the older woman soothed her. Maybe it was her way with horses…
“I also wanted to give this to you.” Twilight held out the journal in both hands, interrupting her reverie. “I want to know what you think. Of everything.”
“About magic?”
When Twilight pursed her lips and shoved it at her, she reached out to take it.
“I’ll stay away from the red marked pages,” Sunset whispered. “Unless you want me to read them?”
“I trust you.”
The simple words ached in Sunset’s heart, and she took firm hold of the journal in both hands, not caring when her left hand complained fiercely at the exertion.
Twilight let go of the rumple-paged journal and drew her arms back over her chest, as though hugging herself, her eyes never leaving the leather cover until she spoke again. “I’m scared, Sunset, and you know more about this than I do. And with… what happened last night, I think it’s important I understand it, too.”
“Last night. You mean when you harnessed the Elements to wake me up? Seems like an overpowered use of them, but nothing scary.” She tried to make her voice light, but she had felt the twisting and the reach, too, the change followed after, and the lightness she tried for instead came out feeling like mockery. She grimaced. “Sorry.”
“It wasn’t just waking you up, Sunny. When I touched you… I felt something. It felt… slimy.” Twilight looked away, rubbing her hand against her shorts as if trying to brush away filth. “Like… something was wrapped around you.”
“I-it was probably just me being unconscious. I was there. I heard everything you said, like an… out of body-in body experience. I was so afraid it was a dream.” She swallowed the memory of the void clinging to her. It settled in her gut like a sour apple. “It was probably just my fear.”
“Maybe.” Twilight nodded and stood up abruptly, pacing back and forth in the short amount of space between the bookshelf and the opposite wall. “Maybe, but it was more than waking you up. I think it was bigger than the seven of us. Much bigger. I felt something change when I reached out. I have no idea what it was, and I’m hoping that, with your help, we can figure it out.”
“I know less than you think…” Sunset splayed her fingers against the journal, curling them into an imaginary hoof again, and opened to the first page. “I know Equestrian magic, and the magic here is not the same. Believe me, I’ve tried. Not even so much as a twisted spoon.”
“But you still know more than I do…” She glanced down at the open page, then up at Sunset as she paced by. “Maybe together we can figure something out?”
Twilight’s steps quickened, her hands searching for pockets in her shorts, and then folding across her chest. She stopped at the window and sat on the sill.
Sunset watched her for a moment, then opened the journal to the first page, marked with yellow, filled with a theory and the meticulous, detailed notes on how to prove or disprove it. The next page continued the notes, including several diagrams, and the pages beyond it were filled with piecemeal schematics for a machine.
She held up the journal. “What’s this?”
Twilight glanced at it, her cheeks flushed. “It’s a magitometer. It measures magical energy. I-I think. It measures something I can’t account for otherwise. I built it after… well, after Princess Twilight came and left me in an odd position.” Twilight chuckled, rolling her head back against the window frame. “I haven’t told you how badly both of you messed up my life plans. I had everything planned out. Everything.”
“Come on, no one plans everything.”
Twilight shook her head. “I was going to be a theoretical physicist, and my thesis was going to be on Extra-dimensional Superspatial Anomalies, or what you and I would call magic. And then I was… And she went and…” Twilight threw a hand out in a spastic jerk. “And you have no idea what kind of trouble I got into after she left.”
“That was my fault.” Sunset mumbled as she flipped back and forth, trying to see how the pieces would fit together. “Sorry.”
Sunset looked up when Twilight didn’t answer. She was sitting on the windowsill, silent as her hand rested in a pool of sunlight making her skin glow with vital warmth. Rainbow had been right, she mused with a wry grin, Twilight was beautiful to her, and her heart ached to see the bleak, lost expression stealing some of her vitality away. She wondered if Twilight ever dreamt of what her life might have been like, and if she was trying to remember what those dreams were like.
“I’m sorry,” Sunset repeated. “I know what it’s like to lose a dream.” For an instant, a flash of a life she might have had dazzled her as it had in the torrent of rainbow light. It faded as swiftly as it had come, leaving her to blink away sudden tears. She dashed them away before Twilight could see, and forced a smile.
“It’s… okay.” Twilight flashed her a blooming smile. “It really is, you know. I’m glad you got me in trouble.”
“A dream lost is still a dream lost,” Sunset said. “Sorry.” Stop saying that.
Twilight waved away the apology. “I wouldn’t have met any of you if you hadn’t, and I would’ve gone on my boring way through life, probably ending up a laughingstock in my field for trying to prove fantasy wasn’t so fantastic. I’m happier than I think I would have been without any of you in my life.”
Uncertain of what to say, Sunset turned back to the journal. Several pages went by as she let her fingers drift over the drawings, losing herself in connecting part A to B to C, and forming the shape of it in her mind. It was crude, she thought, but some of it appeared to be from various and sundry parts one might find around the house, impressive. If it works.
Sunset glanced up from studying the drawings to catch Twilight jerking her eyes away to focus on a discoloration on the shoulder of her blouse, poking it with a finger. “We have a washer and dryer if you need to do some laundry.”
Twilight jumped, snatching her hand back to her lap. “N-no. It’s okay. I haven’t… um. I haven’t had a chance to, um…” She plucked at a wet strand of hair from her shoulder. “I mean, I have clean clothes. I mean, I have had a chance. I just… I’ve been sitting up here, keeping an eye on you.”
Interesting. Sunset stifled a laugh at Twilight’s stumbling words, masking it with a rub against her bruised lip. “Admit it, you just wanted to watch me sleep.”
Twilight’s fingers tapped out a fitful cadence against the enameled buckle securing the belt around her waist, and refused to meet her eyes. “I was not! I was… working on the drawings I showed you. It’s quiet up here. And, besides, Rainbow asked me to watch over you.“
She did? Sunset couldn’t keep her mouth from dropping open, and turned it into a stretch and yawn. “You didn’t need to watch over me,” Sunset said, fighting off a real yawn sneaking up on her a moment later. “I really was sleeping okay.”
Twilight shook her head, opened her mouth to say more, and closed it again. She looked out the window, trailing a hand over the screen. “She wanted me to watch over you just in case,” she said finally. “She told me she hadn’t slept well and needed to clear her head. She also said you hadn't, either. We were both worried about you.” The look she gave Sunset asked, but did not beg, to be let in.
Would you make her beg, and fight for every scrap? Sunset shook her head, weariness at holding her friends at arm’s length settling around her thoughts, and it was suddenly more tiring to keep it in than it was to let it spill out.
“I couldn't fall asleep, at first. I didn't want to fall asleep and wake up to be alone again. When I was awake, I could still feel you were close.” She cleared her throat. “She came up to make sure I was doing okay.”
Twilight gave her an odd, flat look. “And?”
“And we talked…” Keeping back the rest, she allowed herself to add: “About you.” Twilight’s raised eyebrow asked for more, but Sunset shook her head. “I fell asleep, and slept better.” Sunset raised an eyebrow. “Did she say anything else?
Before answering, Twilight looked outside and waved. “Just that she was going to go for a run.” Twilight glanced aside at Sunset’s clock. “That was quite a run. She left two hours ago.”
“She probably had a lot to think about,” Sunset whispered. “I know I do.”
“Hmm?” Twilight looked up again from the window. “What was that?”
“Thinking aloud…” She waved it away.
The front door opened and closed with a slam, the storm door clacking shut a second later. Rainbow’s voice drifted up through the open door. “I’m back!”
"We'll be down in a sec." Sunset called back, and followed the sound of Rainbow’s heavy tread through the house to the kitchen, heard the fridge open and close. The couch creaked and then the TV came on.
“I guess she’s thirsty.” Sunset grinned, imagining Rainbow’s sweaty face as she sucked down a bottle of water and she she could almost hear the glug-glug-glug.
A few moments later, Rainbow’s voice called up from downstairs, louder. “Hey, uh… Do either of you know anything about a giant tree getting planted at school overnight?”
Sunset shared a glance with Twilight, but all she could do was shrug and try to ignore the prickle crawling up her spine. “Not me.”
“What you’re seeing is an aerial view of Canterlot High,” a dour and dry man’s voice said. “Where last year, an illegal fireworks display caused significant damage to the campus.”
Fireworks? Are they still saying that? Sunset scrubbed at her brow as she tromped down the stairs, shooting Rainbow a glance, but the other girl’s eyes were glued to the TV.
Over the news anchor’s shoulder floated the image of a silvery tree, its tendriled vines filled with delicate leaves shimmering in the noonday sun, dazzling the camera as often as allowing itself to be the center of attention. Rainbows danced around the tree, flickering across the ground and everything else in sight. She got the distinct impression the tree reveled in the sunlight as its leaves danced and spun in the wash from the helicopter.
As the view drifted, she saw the Canterlot Colt rearing up from its pedestal near the base of the tree, the silvered finish of the portal unmarred.
“Our News One chopper is on the scene. Hot Scoop, what can you tell us about what we’re seeing?”
“It looks like the CHS prankster corps has done it again,” a woman’s voice said, bright and happy, as though announcing it were the highlight of her day. “No digital effects for this one. You can see police cruisers parked along the street, and the barricade around the tree they’ve set up. The tree is sitting in the exact place where the explosion last year did so much damage. But no ergot induced hallucinations this time, Hard Line, what you’re seeing is live footage with no special effects added.”
“Ergot? Really?” Sunset rolled her eyes as she settled down on the couch next to Rainbow. “I can’t believe they’re still using something so stupid as their standard ‘This makes no sense’ excuse. We didn’t even use that in Equestria, and we eat almost exclusively grain.” She snorted, arranging her left arm on her lap.
Twilight muted the TV, but the closed captioning continued to scroll by underneath. “That… tree is from Equestria, isn’t it?”
Sunset shrugged. “If it’s not, I’ll be very, very surprised.” She shot Twilight a glance. “Is this what you meant by ‘something more’ you felt change, because… um… That’s a heck of a lot more than I thought you meant.”
Rainbow frowned, keeping her attention on the TV, but Sunset saw her right hand clench tight over the edge of the couch cushion.
Sunset heard again Rainbow’s confession of jealousy, and laid a hand lightly over her friend’s, attempting to will apology into the touch.
Whether it worked or not, Rainbow shook herself and smiled at Sunset, mouthing, ‘I’m trying.’
Sunset nodded, shifting the hand to Rainbow’s knee, offering a smile in return, and mouthing, ‘Thank you.’
Twilight shook her head slightly, watching them. “You two had a ‘moment’ last night, didn’t you?”
“Male bonding ritual.” Rainbow chuckled. “Now for girls!”
“Ah. You’re both weird.” Twilight quirked an eyebrow, frowning at each of them in turn, and turned back to the TV, but Sunset saw the flush rising in her cheeks.
She tried to get Rainbow’s attention inconspicuously with a touch against her knee, then a jab to her ribs. When she had the other girl’s attention again, she mouthed, ‘We should back off.’
Rainbow nodded silently and leaned back, crossing her arms under her breasts and staring at the TV as the tree in the center view drifted lazily as the helicopter swung around.
The closed captioning below read, ‘Hot Scoop: As you can see, there are five glass or crystal symbols embedded in the branches, with a sixth at the top of the trunk. You can’t see it from this angle, but there is a seventh on the opposite side of the trunk from the sixth, and burnished into the base, which looks like some kind of steel or silvered glass, are the public symbols of the Principal and Vice Principal of the school.’
‘Hard Line: We’ve received word from a source wishing to remain anonymous that the seven symbols in the branches and upper trunk are registered to students there at CHS. Is there any sign of students on campus?’ Somehow, his dry tone seemed to bleed into the text.
‘Hot Scoop: It’s Spring Break for the school this week, and the only people at the school are staff. We’ve seen some of them already coming out to look at the tree, and even take pictures in front of it.’
Sunset stared at the image of the tree. Seven symbols. She knew what six of them were already, and all she had to do was look at her friends to see them on display. She didn’t need to see the seventh to know she would find its mirror on most of her clothes, a desperate clinging to what had been the most precious part of her identity, and she almost itched at her hip. But, she stayed still, watching as the news coverage unfolded into more banal conjecture and back-and-forthing between the two reporters.
The silence continued until Vice Principal Luna’s name scrolled across the closed captioning, and her still image appeared next to ‘Calling in…’
“Unmute it!” Rainbow snapped.
Twilight fumbled for the controls, and Luna’s steady contralto filled the room, her words precise, and tone even.
“…an art project by our artistically skilled students. I regret they chose to assemble their project without informing me they were going to do so, but I cannot fault them for their enthusiasm. It’s a sign of how proud they are of their school that they would spend so much time over Spring Break continuing to work on it. It is also quite encouraging to see they’re such fans of the Rainbooms, CHS’s own Battle of the Bands winner.”
The video cut back to the male reporter, a visible frown on his face, quickly smoothed away. “What have you to say about the symbols on the trunk?”
“It’s flattering, of course, and I believe it shows just how strong the spirit of togetherness and harmony is here at CHS.”
“So, you’re saying this isn’t the work of pranksters?”
“Of course it’s not. I approved of this project, but hadn’t expected to see finished before the end of Spring Break. An oversight on my part, and I will be talking with our young artists about the proper time and place for enthusiasm. This is merely the work of enthusiastic, artistic students.”
“So you’re saying you approved of this already, and approved the specific addition of your personal symbols?” Sunset didn’t miss the note of skepticism in the man’s voice, or the way he smiled as though he thought he had her trapped. “It’s no secret that CHS has not been doing as well in the last year on a financial scale, and our sources on the school board indicate they are looking very closely into some of the school’s recent expenditures.”
Twilight shot to her feet. “How could he possibly think Vice Principal Luna would—would—” She jabbed a finger at the television.
“Shh.” Sunset waved a hand at her and pulled her back down, grinning. “This should be good. Just wait.”
“All artistic projects and other endeavors are encouraged without regard for the source of them and without consideration for personal favor. All of the costs for such events are raised through fundraisers, drives, and donations. We do not spend taxpayer money on student-driven events such as this, except where such expenditure has been approved by the board.”
Luna did not raise her voice at all, but each syllable came through as sharp and precise as a shard of ice, and as inexorable and unstoppable as an avalanche. The anchorman was trying to get a word in edgewise, but failed. Sunset relished the purple tint to his features and the tendon visibly pulsing on the side of his neck.
“At CHS, we encourage free expression and do what we can to help the development of the talents our students possess, and encourage and assist them in any way we can to organize a drive or fundraiser for any project they wish. You may recall how much we do, Mr. Line, as I seem to recall you were a student here at one time, were you not? In fact, I seem to recall—” Luna’s voice cut off, and a deep breath came through the TV, and when she spoke again, her voice was calmer, but no less cold. “This call is over, Hard Line. I’m not a little girl to be bullied anymore, and I’ll not stand for it, nor descend to your level.”
A loud click signaled the end of the call.
The man sitting at the anchor desk smiled at the camera, his complexion slowly returning to its normal light blue. Finally, he said, “Nice speaking to you, Vice Principal Luna. We’ll be back with more coverage after a word from our sponsors.”
Before the screen cut to a commercial, he was throwing down papers and striding off screen, his smile turned to a scowl. “She hasn’t changed…!” The rest of his tirade faded off into a commercial for the Flim & Flam Pawn shop.
Sunset chuckled. “She’s more frightening when she’s got that stare fixed on you. It’s her presence in that dark office of hers.” She didn’t need to fake her shiver. “She’s terrifying when her voice gets calm and she glares at you. I was happy I only got detention for two months.”
“Two months of detention? I thought it was…” Twilight stared at her for a long moment, one eyebrow raised. “There’s a lot you all haven’t told me.”
Sunset nodded, turning away. “There is some that’s… it’s just not…” The weeks after, the dreams turned to nightmares when she woke—for their loss, rather than their content, the guilt at what she had almost done… “Later.”
Twilight stretched an arm over Rainbow to lay a hand against Sunset’s shoulder. “Take your time.”
She nodded, and was about to sit back when her phone jangled, the caller ID showing the last name she wanted to talk to right then. She sighed, flipping open the phone, and buried her face in her hand. “Hey, Vice Principal Luna. I, uh, I want to say, before you say anything… It’s not my fault. Honest. I have an alibi.”
From the other end of the line, Sunset heard a door slam closed, its echo booming in a small space.
“I know it is not, Sunset Shimmer. No alibi is necessary.” A pause as the sound of blinds snapping shut came sharply over the phone. The door opened and closed again, more softly, before Luna continued. “Please, for this call, I am not a vice principal, or anyone in authority. I am only Luna.” There was a longer pause as a chair creaked. “I… I need to ask for your help. I would not do so otherwise or ask any student to do something of this nature, but I believe you are the only person who has history with, and working knowledge of, where I suspect this tree has come from, and the lie I just told on live television may not last out the week. Please, I need your help.”
“You think it came from Equestria,” Sunset said, giving Rainbow and Twilight a significant raise of both eyebrows.
“Indeed, and I am afraid of what its appearance means.”
Sunset covered the microphone with her hand. “I think vacation is over.”
“She really is quite the elegant creature, is she not?” Rarity held up her fashion sketchpad, opened to the sketch she’d done of Fluttershy’s pony self for her friend’s inspection. “Not so graceful as you, dear, but elegant all the same. I wish I had brought more than just my sketch pencils. Why, I think I can see how to fit those adorable pony ears into an outfit, even!” She flipped a couple pages over to a half-sketched chapeu. “See, the ears would appear here, right beside these two embroidered butterflies.”
“That would be nice.” Fluttershy’s smile flittered across her lips, and faded.
“Are you all right?”
Fluttershy wavered a hand in the air, but didn’t offer anything further.
Rarity sighed as she flipped slowly through the more recently filled pages, her eyes half on the sketches, and half on Fluttershy, staring out the window.
She stopped briefly at the one she’d drawn of Applejack, the mare looking in the drawing, and in her lingering vision, much as she imagined a pony Applejack would—even down to the Stetson seemingly inseparable from her head. Odd, that, for a pony to wear a cowboy hat.
If only the drawing or the vision could talk, she might get something from one or the other aside from the nervous glances and never-started conversations she’d felt brewing, only to have them peter out before the first word. Ever since Applejack had come down from driving Twilight up the bluff, she had seemed to walk on tenterhooks around her. And that, after she had braided Applejack’s hair the night before.
She could show some sign of appreciation for it. Instead, all she had gotten in return was a nervous silence always teetering on the edge of becoming the question she saw lurking in Applejack’s eyes.
It was starting to irritate her.
At least she’s left it braided, she thought, as Applejack tugged on its end. That was a lot of work, with her thick hair.
She closed the sketchbook firmly, and turned her attention deliberately back to Fluttershy. “You’re thinking about that… tree, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” Fluttershy turned to look at her, mouth hanging open for a second longer before closing, and she turned away. “I’m worried.”
“So am I,” Rarity admitted, tapping the edge of the sketchbook against her knee. “But nothing except for the tree seems to be amiss.” A thought came to her, and found quick escape through her lips. “Do you think it has something to do with what happened last night?”
Applejack, beside her in the driver’s seat, snorted indelicately. “Sure you have to ask that, Rares? ’Course it does. There ain’t any question in my mind at all.”
“Well, in your mind, perhaps, there are none. But not in mine. Coincidence, perhaps. Or events unbeknownst to us coming to fruition.” She sniffed, glancing at her phone. “I do wish my parents would call back.”
“They’re fine, Rares. They said they needed to discuss some things, didn’t they?” Applejack’s hand rested on her knee briefly, squeezed, and jerked back to the wheel.
She considered her friend for a moment before answering, and glanced down at her bare knee, the ruffle ending halfway up her thigh when seated. Just ask, Applejack. Please. She sighed, keeping the thought locked away. When she had explored it herself, asking herself what question she wanted Applejack to ask, she found only a mire of conflicting worries.
She examined the thought for a moment longer, and discarded it with a huff. Best not to waste thought on an answer to a question she hadn’t been asked yet. She pressed her lips together as she felt the thought attempt to come out.
“Rares?” Applejack glanced at her and jerked her eyes forward. “Sorry. Ya got kinda quiet all of a sudden.” The knuckles on her right hand turned white, then their normal light orange. “Yer parents are fine.”
“I know,” Rarity said. She gritted her teeth over the irritated words trying to come out. Just ask! I don’t care what it is, just ask and get it out, Applejack.
The impulse passed, and she glanced at her phone again, then back at Pinkie. “Any word yet from your friends on MyStable about the tree?”
“Nope. Just more questions. Something about Luna making a press release, but kinda scanty on details.” Pinkie tapped her phone against her thigh, eyes on Rarity’s sketchbook. “Say, did any of you get a feeling, like your pony self was looking at you? Because I really, really felt like mine was. I even got this pinchy feeling in my shoulder, like I do when someone’s staring at me.”
“For the third time, Pinkie, no. I didn’t. I saw ‘er, and she looked up. That was it. She didn’t look like no pony I’d ever seen, though. Y’know, same likeness to a pony, but… not. I knew she was a person, though.” Applejack shrugged, glancing aside again at Rarity. “You’re better at puttin’ this kinda stuff to word. What’d you think?”
I think you need to stop dancing around and ask me… something! She pursed her lips tighter over the words that wanted to come out.
Thankfully, her phone rang, and she didn’t have to risk having that embarrassing outburst.
“Hello? Mother?”
“And your father. We wanted to talk to you about the beach house.” Her mother’s voice held a touch of eager delight in it she didn’t like.
The last time her mother had used that tone, she had shortly been on a plane to Fillydelphia to walk a historic boardwalk and try to ignore the baubles her mother purchased. Her father, of course, had smiled and nodded at everything.
“It’s great you kids had a great time there this week, and got the propane tank filled again. Sorry about that, but thanks for taking care of it,” her father continued.
Rarity took a deep breath. “Yes. Mr. Truck was quite prompt this morning, and it was nice to finally have a hot shower.” She took another breath, calmer. “About the house—”
“Yes, we’re going to keep the house. We decided after we talked to your sister. Sweetie Belle agrees with you.”
Finally, something we agree on. She kept the thought sealed away. “I’m glad. And just how are we going to keep it?”
“It’s also going to work for us, too. Three times a year, we’re going to rent the place out to one of the prospective buyers who approached us. Solid contract, too, none of this ‘we trust you to keep the place clean’ stuff. Aside from that, we’re willing to let it be used exclusively for you and your friends. And your sister, too, of course. You’ll have to share.”
“That won’t be a problem.” Since she can’t drive.
“There’s a catch,” her mother said quickly.
Of course there is. She’s going to turn me into a chaperon, most likely.
“Maintenance for it is only going to get more expensive as the house ages,” her father said in his stolid voice. “It already costs a good deal to keep it up, and the roof needs re-shingling soon. If you and your friends help out, or chip in to help us pay for it, we’ll consider it a payment on rent to the place.”
“Rent?” Rarity tasted the word, almost gagged on it. “You’re going to make us pay rent?”
“Rarity Belle, don’t take that tone with your father.” Her mother’s voice steamrolled over hers. “We’re asking you to help us pay for a small part of it. It’s not so much to ask, is it?”
Her father continued as though neither had said anything, “You have a choice to help us through labor or monetary investment. It’s a valuable lesson that you’ll need to learn if you want to start up that fashion company you’re always talking about. Running a business is much like maintaining a rental property—there’s more to it than just having fun.” Her father trailed off. She almost saw him shrug. “We are willing to take care of other expenses on our own, as partners, if you will, in business.”
“Just a moment, daddy,” she said sweetly, and muted the call. “They’re going to keep it, but they want to help us do maintenance for rent.”
“And that’s dandy,” Applejack said. “We discussed that possibility, and we knew it would be something we might haveta do. It’s not so bad. Little work here and there. Make a vacation of it. Have a little fun, work some, it’d be like…” Applejack stared hard out the windshield, and shook her head after a moment.
“Like what?” Ask!
Applejack gave her a brief, pleading look, as though she had heard the unvoiced command, and turned her eyes back to the road.
Rarity sighed.
“I’m willin’ to put up my share of work,” Applejack said.
“Me too.” Fluttershy reached out to touch Rarity’s shoulder. “I had fun. It was nice to get away from the city for a while. But, I do hope we can take Angel next time.” The stuffed bunny plush on her lap squeaked when she squeezed it. “It’s just not the same.”
“Aww, you’ll be back soon enough, Fluttershy. Maybe he and Gummy can have an ‘End of Vacation Bash’ together!”
Rarity smiled to herself and unmuted the phone. “You understand, of course, that it’s not just me you’re asking to pay rent, of course? My friends…”
“Of course. You’re all going into ‘business’ together. It’s only right they do some of the work, too,” her father’s all-too-reasonable tone reminded her poignantly of Applejack. “You can be far too giving, Rarity. I know charity is something I’ve preached to you, but be careful not to take it too far.”
“I won’t. It’s just, well, this has been a very special vacation for all of us. And for one of us, especially. I’m worried what she’ll think about being asked to work for it so soon after—” She barely held the words back, and only because Applejack smacked her shoulder.
“Oh, that new girl, right? I remember you saying something of the sort.” Her father snapped his fingers rapidly. “Twilight Sparkle! I remember meeting her once, don’t I? You brought her over briefly, I think, to fit her for some outfit or another.”
“Yes, yes. And she’s quite fine.” I think.
“Ah, that’s great, then. Great. So… yes, then, on working for your rent?”
She raised an eyebrow at Applejack, who nodded. “Yes.”
“Great! We’ll see you soon, darling. Tell Applejack to drive safe.”
“She always does, mother. I love you both, and I’ll be home in…” She reached over and tapped Applejack on the shoulder.
“Well, it’s about another three hours to Canterlot’s city limits, but we’re gonna stop by the farm first. Er… Sunset’s farm.”
“I’ll be home sometime tonight.”
“Alright, sweetie. Take care.”
She hung up and folded the phone in her lap, closing her eyes. The road droned by, with only the sound of Pinkie’s frequent commentary breaking into her blessedly thought-free respite. Sleep eluded her, still, and the ache behind her eyes reminded her she’d had a scant five hours rest the night before.
“So… uh… Rares?” Applejack cleared her throat. “Rarity?”
“Yes?” She didn’t open her eyes.
Applejack didn’t say anything.
She waited for a slow count of six breaths and opened her eyes. “Ask, Applejack. I’m getting quite tired of waiting for you to ask whatever it is you and Twilight concocted between you.” She sighed, moderating her tone, and continued, “It’s quite unlike you.”
“I know… I’m not sure how ta ask.” Applejack swallowed, fingers tight on the steering wheel. “But I can’t get my mind off it.”
“It’s not difficult. Like this, ‘Applejack, what is it you’ve been meaning to ask me for the past day and a half?’” She sighed, waving a hand. “I apologize. That came out snippy, but honestly, it is getting quite frustrating.”
“How’d you know?”
“Know what? That you’ve had a burning question you’ve been meaning to ask? What is it?” A dress for the Spring Fling? Dating advice? Makeup advice? Please let it be makeup advice.
Still no question.
She sighed, scrubbing at her forehead. Sleep after last night’s event had been next to impossible, and napping during the trip woke her motion-sickness as soon as she started to drift off. “Applejack, I’m not blind. I’m tired. Of course I’ve known you wanted to ask something. Out with it, please?”
“Uh… You sure?” She reached out and tapped the clock, sighed, and then glanced back at Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy.
“And keep your eyes on the road, please.”
“Sorry. It’s kinda, uh, personal. Y’know?”
Dating advice, then. “Out with it.” She tried to keep the edge out of her voice. She added, more softly, “We’re all friends, here.”
“Rarity? Are you… do you…” Applejack’s hands squeezed the wheel, fingers massaging it. “Tarnation, there ain’t no delicate way ta say it. Rarity, I’ve got a crush on you. And, uh… that’s pretty much it.” Her cheeks flared bright pink, her eyes fixated on the road ahead.
For a long moment, it felt like the words of Applejack’s declaration sat outside of her conscious mind. She knew them, and saw them as if they were physical things she could pluck out of the air and examine at her leisure. But when she reached up, they scattered, and their meaning spilled into her as though she were an already full bucket.
Dating advice. I was right. A mad giggle threatened to overwhelm her. She forced it back into the bucket.
“Well.” Rarity scrubbed at her temple. “Well. I can honestly say that was not what I thought you wanted to ask me. Not that it’s a question. I mean, a question starts with a… a question. That was a statement. And I’m sorry, but I need a question to answer. I can’t statement that.” She pulled her hand away, staring at it as though sense could be made of her thoughts in the firmness of her fingers, in the small callouses from working with needle and thread on the tiny details of embroidery.
I need to replace my emery board when I get home, It appears the one I brought has lost its grit. She rubbed at the rough edge of the callous on her thumb, aware, faintly, of the dribbling away of her thoughts as her mind turned sideways. She let them go.
“Rarity?”
“Yes, Applejack?”
“I need ta know… do you feel the same?”
“The same what?” Definitely a new emory board. Maybe some new nail gloss, too. She rubbed at the callous again, catching the edge with a fingernail. She plucked at it again and again.
“Come on, you know what I’m talking about.” Applejack looked aside at her, back to the road, then back at Fluttershy and Pinkie. “Don’t do this to me. Please, tell me. Yes, or no.”
Rarity risked a look back to see Fluttershy with a flush up to her hairline, staring out the window, and Pinkie with eyes wide as dinner plates, and a broad grin illustrating exactly how she felt about it.
Rarity ducked back into her seat, wishing she could sink all the way into it. “I can’t.” She shook her head with the whisper, the motion and her words feeling jerky. One thought came back to her right after. What do I do?
Nothing else came back but a mad giggle, echoing up from the bottom of her mind.
Applejack drove on, the silent tension building in the droning hum of the wheels on asphalt.
When they stopped at a rest area almost an hour later, Pinkie yanked open the sliding door before the van had even stopped, and pulled Fluttershy out with her when it did.
Rarity sat still, staring at her hands in her lap, at her thumb, the skin around the rough edges an angry red. She remembered, vaguely, picking at it while staring out the window, but couldn’t recall what she had been thinking about.
Applejack sat still, her thumbs thumping against the steering wheel.
“I shouldn’t have asked,” Applejack said softly.
“Asked.” She swallowed. “Applejack… I don’t… I can’t—”
“I know. Sorry. Look, can you forget what I told you?”
“Told me.” Told me you have a crush on me. “I don’t see how. Do you know how many crushes I’ve had? How many men of consequence and stature I’ve flung my heart at?”
“A few.” Applejack frowned, and she could almost see the gears turning, trying to see where she was going.
“A few.” Rarity laughed, already feeling the hurt from each welling up inside her. “A few, yes. And do you remember how crushed I was when all of the affections I threw at them got me, at best, a pat on the head?”
She leveled her stare at Applejack, saw the dawning comprehension in her friend’s eyes. “Yes, Applejack. How could you do this to me? I can’t hurt you like that. How dare you put me in their position!”
Applejack stared at her for the length of a long, indrawn breath, the hurt plainly written in the crinkle of her brow and the shimmer of tears in her eyes. “Sorry.” Her fist cracked against the door handle. “I didn’t choose to put you there. I didn’t choose to fall for you like I did. I ain’t even sure I’d choose different, if I’d had a choice. But, right now, you’re makin’ it really hard to see what I saw there in the first place.”
Rarity felt her smile harden as she drew about her the same, familiar armor that had always protected her from hurt. She felt the words bubble up in her chest, the savage strike that would sever herself from feeling. “Maybe there’s nothing to see! Ever think of that!”
Her own words struck her like the hammerblow of an angry god. Her smile shattered.
Thought and words fled. She tried to follow, but her body felt numb, and all she could manage was to turn away and thump her head against the window.
“No. I never thought that.” Applejack laid a hand on her shoulder, slid it along behind her neck to her other shoulder. “Rarity, you ain’t alone, and there’s more to you than your surface. I’ve always known. But I really saw you let it out for the last several days.”
“And there’s a reason I keep it in.” The words felt numb.
“Why?” Applejack’s hand on her shoulder pulled her closer. “That don’t make sense. It’s a beautiful part of you.”
“Because if I don’t let it out, I can’t get hurt.” The words came without her thinking about them, but they felt true. The first sting of unshed tears plucked at her eyes as she loosened her control. “If I don’t let them see what’s inside, it doesn’t hurt as much when I get patted on the head and told ‘That’s nice. Now run along.’” A sob choked her, and the ache behind her eyes became a wash down her cheeks.
“And if you never let it out, no one can see it.” Applejack leaned in closer, or she was pulled closer, she couldn’t tell. “That’d be a right shame.”
She let herself be tugged closer, let Applejack join another arm with the first, and buried her face in Applejack’s shoulder. She smelled like a hard worker: an undertone of sweat and dirt. But, there was femininity there, too, soft and almost buried, a scent of strawberries and apples, strongest in the thick braid brushing her cheek. Applejack had used her shampoo and conditioner.
“What changed, Applejack? Why did I let myself be vulnerable?” She clutched at Applejack’s plaid shirt, catching the braid up in her grip. “And why did you…” The words stuck in her throat even as they played out in her mind, ‘fall in love with me?’
Applejack seemed to hear them. “Because I saw you.”
“But you see me every day. Why now?”
“It was seein’ you reliving your memories of the beach and house.” Applejacks voice and breath murmured through her hair like a warm summer’s breeze caressing her. A strong hand settled on her back, stroking hesitantly at first, then more surely when she offered no resistance. “That’s powerful, Rares. There’s places out on the farm like that, for me. Couple places…”
Applejack’s trailed off as her hand came up to brush at Rarity’s cheek. “That’s why you can’t let go of someplace like that. There’s too much of you bound up in it.”
“Too much of me. I couldn’t hold myself in. It just… just…”
“Shh. I know, Rares. Trust me, I know.” Applejack’s arm around her tightened.
What would it be like, she wondered as she let her head sink against Applejack’s shoulder. Her cheek settled into the hand as the thought trailed into a dream. If I let her love me, could I love her back?
Nothing about Applejack’s farm girl physique or her usual state of dress did anything for her, and even when she could feel the solid tension of muscle quivering under her cheek, there was nothing physical there to quicken her pulse.
Her heart thudded a little harder at the feel of Applejack’s hand on her cheek, tangling in her hair. It was a temptation, and she could give in and see where it went.
“I can’t,” she said. She pulled back from the embrace a moment later. “I can’t let you hope for what I can’t give you, Applejack. I won’t be my own crushes to you.”
“You ain’t exactly pattin’ me on the head, and I didn’t exactly throw myself at you.” Applejack’s chuckle stung, but her laugh warmed it away. “I’m askin’ you to tell me honest. Do you feel something for me? Like I do for you.”
Rarity froze again, all except her fingers plucking at her thumb. She glared down at it and forced her hands to stay still in her lap.
Applejack squeezed her shoulder shoulder. “Just say it. Two letters. I promise I won’t get mad. Or hurt. I’m still your friend, Rarity, and I love you no matter.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I can’t say it.” Why?
Applejack sighed and thumped her head back against the head cushion. “Why not?”
Why not? Such a simple question, but no answer to it came to mind. I don’t want to hurt you. She tried to say it. “I-I don’t…” But why? Because you’ve been searching for romance and throwing your heart hither and thither and yon. Why not?
“I wish I’d had your courage to ask bluntly, and sit there waiting for an hour. How much time would I have saved?” She laughed softly even as the hours spent weeping in bed clawed with tiny nails at her heart. Every one of them she had loved, and every one of them had turned her affections aside. “I wish I had the courage to tell you no.”
“Well, if that’s your answer, then I’ll abide by it.” Applejack nodded, as if that settled the matter. “I won’t force you to answer.” There was still a hopeful gleam she could see in Applejack’s eyes.
“That’s not my answer,” she said in a soft whisper.
“Then what is? Can you love me?”
Do you, is what you mean, she thought, but kept it carefully locked away. “I don’t know. I’ve never asked myself. I never had a need or want to know. My heart is a simple thing, Applejack, and I’ve never thought it might go someplace…” Her train of thought petered out as her words did. “Because I do love you, Applejack. I love all of you.”
“But not… that way.” Applejack nodded, frowning. “I never thought to ask myself, either, ‘till Twi and RD shoved it in my face.”
“Are you a lesbian?” The words shocked her even as she heard them in her own voice. “Oh, stars! That was rude.”
“Little bit. Hah!” Applejack shook her head, smiling. “I don’t think so. I mean, I’ve liked to gander at the fellers helpin’ at the farm, those CU Ag guys really got it.” She grinned, flexing her arm to show off the tight bicep under the edge of her tee. “Never really thought I’d gander at the girls, too. I mean, we hire a few every year, mostly Ag students, too, but none of em really held my interest.” She shrugged, leaning back, lips pursed. “Which is funny. You’d think I’d have triggered on one of them.”
Rarity shook her head. “No. Not you.” A quiet certainty rose up in her as she said the words, and followed where they led, uncertain where they would go. There was a certain thrill to it, she thought, speaking from the heart. “Because there wasn’t anything there, with them, and you didn’t know them like you do me. You’ve seen me at my worst, Applejack.”
Applejack didn’t answer immediately, but she was nodding, brow furrowed as if in deep thought. “And your best,” she said finally. “This past week has been… I saw it again, when we were talkin’ to Dash about Twi. Funny, that, huh?” She chuckled. “Between worryin’ about the house, and them two, and then Sunset? Rares, that’s some Grade A stress, right there.”
“It was, wasn’t it?”
“And you came through it all, shinin’ like the sun.”
Applejack’s arm around her squeezed once again, then let go, sliding back over Rarity’s neck, past her shoulder and under the trailing curl of her hair, her hand becoming an offering as it settled in the empty air between them.
“I remember holding your hand on the drive down the cliff. When we first got here.”
“I do, too,” Rarity admitted. The hand drifted down, and with it, she saw a chance at real love passing by.
She took it before it fell away, holding it tight in her hands, surprised to find how warm and dry Applejack’s hand was. She had been expecting it to feel the way her hands felt when she approached a crush: clammy, damp, and shaking. Applejack’s was as rough as sandpaper in places, and she found several spots where dirt had embedded into Applejack’s skin and not come out again, trapped in the rough skin covering her palms.
It wasn’t a beautiful hand. It was a strong, real hand, steady in hers as it squeezed back. She stroked the callous on her thumb along the roughened palm, hers delicate by comparison, but no less well-earned.
It was the same hand that had held hers steady while childhood memories had danced through her emotions with careless disregard for what hurt they awoke. It was Applejack.
What would it be like to hold that hand longer? To kiss her? Applejack’s lips looked soft and feminine where the rest of her was as rough as her work. She leaned over the empty space between seats before she knew what she was doing.
Applejack met her halfway.
Fluttershy puffed a light breath at the butterfly perched on her finger, urging it to flight with a gentle flick of her finger.
“Did you remember the bracelets?” Pinkie asked, raising an eyebrow as her thumbs danced over her phone’s screen, not paying much attention to anything else. Or, she was, in her own way, Fluttershy thought. Paying attention to the thousand and one things she always did and somehow keeping them all straight.
It was the third time Pinkie had asked since leaving. There were another six more to go. As Pinkie had explained it to her, she thought with a smile, ‘If the third time’s the charm, then the third time’s the charm times the third time’s the charm is doubly charmed! No, wait… triply! Or is it charmed squared? Twilight, I need help with a math problem!’
“Yes.” She pointed at the van after the butterfly had taken off. “They’re all in my backpack.”
“Good.” Pinkie drew the word out like a strand of taffy. “So,” she sat up abruptly, twitching the phone to face down. “Think they’re gonna kiss?”
“Maybe?” She shrugged. “I thought Twilight and Rainbow Dash were going to kiss a few times.” Her hands folded themselves in her lap, a prim and proper fold, with the fingers tucked into curls, the tips invisible under each other. “They didn’t,” she added.
“Huh.” Pinkie’s phone seemed to flip back over of its own accord. “Sunset wants to know if we’re coming back soon. She says it’s about the tree”
“As soon as we’re done going to the bathroom.” Fluttershy nudged her chin towards the small building sitting silent in the afternoon sun. “I kind of do have to go.”
“Aww, but then you’ll miss it!” Pinkie waved at the van. “See? They’re hugging. Next up is kissing!”
“I thought we were out here to give them privacy. It doesn’t seem nice to watch them.”
Pinkie shot her a look, lifted a finger, lowered it, and folded her arms over her chest. “I hate it when you make a good point.”
