***
"Have you ever heard of something called Hedgehog's Dilemma?" Twilight regretted even so much as speaking the words. "It's, uh, it's a psychology term." But then, that was the problem, wasn't it?
"I can't say I have." Celestia continued looking at her menu. Twilight's mind whirled. Why do I want to do this here? Now? In public? She sucked in a breath. It felt like she'd just broken out from under the ice of a frozen lake, greedily taking in a lungful of air. Alone, exposed to nature's harsh elements, but free at last.
"It goes like this." Twilight lit her horn, providing two images of the prickly mammals in question. She looked up to see if Celestia was paying attention. Of course she was. Out of the corner of her eye. Letting Twilight know that she was watching from a safe distance. There's no such thing as cold fusion. Twilight noted dimly. She cleared her throat.
"I'm listening." Celestia's voice was polite, but the smile didn't reach her eyes. There had been a smile just for her there once. But then it had all gone wrong. Twilight had pushed too far, clung too firmly and the strange mollusk she called her marefriend had tucked itself back into its shell. It must be awfully warm in that shell, Twilight mused.
"We're not holding court, you know. And you ordered five minutes ago." Twilight looked over at the menu. "You already gave me that smile. You never frown for me. I've seen you frown three times since we've started...this. Said "no" seven times, five of those to strangers. None of them recently."
"You want me to be more negative? Less supportive?"
Twilight looked down. "That's not what I meant and we both know it." Silence. Celestia's eyes were back on the damned menu.
"It's the idea that two hedgehogs can never touch, even if they might want to." The ethereal creatures chased their way through the plastic pages captured in Celestia's magic, stopping to roll and play directly under her nose. Abruptly, one of them tried to reach out to the other, only to prick itself on one of the spines nestled in the other's back. "It doesn't matter if they're cold, or upset, or just...lonely." Twilight made sure the strain trying to work its way into her voice was fought down. "They may care about each other, but...they're too afraid of those awful spines. The ugly things about them that would hurt their counterpart. So all they can do is endure the pain, together, or the loneliness of being apart." Celestia put the menu down.
"I wanted to give it a try, Twilight." She looked over at the hedgehog that had pricked the other one, if inadvertently. The look of guilt upon its face made her own crease and tense up. "I never meant for..."
"The application in psychology is, of course, for ponies. We all have flaws, things about ourselves that don't gel. And when we try to get closer..."
"It hurts." Celestia said softly. "I'd always suspected that you--felt that way about me. In your eyes. I could always feel it. And, I suppose, part of me felt it, too. But it was never in this way. Not in my heart of hearts. Twilight, I just--" She looked at the menu, then picked it back up. It promptly incinerated. Twilight's horn sizzled with freshly cast magic, and a thousand invisible spines approached her and radiated from her.
"You just...?"
Celestia looked down. "Don't make me say it, please."
"Normally I wouldn't. But it took me three weeks to get here, Tia. Three weeks of never hearing back from you. Of dodging questions. Of ignoring my letters. You're my marefriend. I care. And I thought you did, too." Both ponies looked away, a stab at both of their chests simultaneously.
"Do you love me?" Celestia looked up, eyes intense. Their spines were intertwining now, sticking into one another quickly and freely.
"Yes." Twilight whispered the word with all the solemnity of a funeral, and another barb struck into Celestia, reeling her closer.
"Please, then, just leave it." Stab.
"I can't. Because you don't love me, too." Another stab, this one forcing the two to press away.
"Of course I do!" Celestia threw out her wings, hooves pressing down against the table with perhaps too much force. "I never haven't. But I never...I tried to make this work. I really did." The eyes of the whole restaurant may have been on her, for all that Celestia knew. But she did know she didn't care, even a little. "But it wasn't because I felt the same, and we knew it from the first date on. It was because I was afraid. I was afraid of losing you." The two of them bit their lips, and again they avoided looking one another in the eye. Neither could bear to see the other's pain writ so large across their faces.
Silence, only briefly interrupted by the waiter. He was, mercifully, tactful enough to leave without a word when he saw the mares' faces. "Are you satisfied?" Celestia said the words bitterly.
"Yes." Twilight said the words with the same solemnity as before. "I am. Princess, I--I love you. I always have, and I always will. But...how I love you can change." She swallowed, trying to hide the heartbreak in her face and voice. "Maybe it has to. I know that, either way, hurting you isn't what I want. It never has been. But for the past few weeks, it seems like...like that's all I've been doing."
"Twilight, please." Celestia began.
"I'll find somepony else! I know I can, if I try hard enough."
"Twilight--"
"And then, maybe, we'll be able to stay together. As friends. It won't be the same, but we'll be able to do it. Together." She paused, biting down on her lip. She pushed the pain against her gums as far as she could. It couldn't outstrip the pain of the inevitable loss, but she would be damned if she didn't try. "Right?"
"Twilight, please!" Celestia once again let the mask slip free, throwing her caution to the wind. "I just need...space. Please." There was no decorum in the words. No diplomacy. Just a wounded animal. Stop hurting me, the Princess said.
Twilight's shoulders collapsed down, defeated by the weight of the frost that had gathered along their tops. "Alright." She sagged down in her chair.
Celestia's eyes softened. "Twilight..."
"Go!" Twilight's turn for animal hurt was no less pleasant for Celestia than Celestia's had been for her. There's no such thing as cold fusion, Twilight's mind repeated. "Have your space. Just find something to tether to. 'Cause I know for sure now, it's never gonna be me."
"Twilight--" Celestia's protest was cut off by a flash of light. And there it was. Space. The pony she loved was gone, leaving nothing but an empty, open space for her. Only one thing remained of Twilight at that dinner. The barbs she'd stuck into Celestia lingered with the other pony, and her absence only resonated the pain provided by those awful, jagged spines."