Necessary Love

by Zurock

Chapter 6: Sharing

When James and Poppy emerged from the Ponyville Spa they were quite a refreshed spectacle. The spa ponies, as always, had been happy to see one of their loyal converts come back for another session; his delivery of an extra customer had merely been a bonus. Likewise, the return of their loaned scrunchie hadn't been a significant event to them (they had baskets full of the things after all), but the fulfillment of a promise had still been earnestly appreciated.

Professionals that they were, they had been more than delighted to have offered an assortment of their best services to the filly ambassador. From glamorously washing her mane and tail, to melting massages, to perfectly polishing her little hooves; they had made sure that their guest had a marvelous impression of what their spa was all about. The man had received slightly less extra special care, but by his own choice. Pampering still wasn't a large concern of his but, after he had worked up the courage to have become an occasional patron, he had truly come to enjoy the simple, regular, relaxing treatments given by the expert hooves of the spa ponies.

On this particular visit though he had been more pleased by witnessing his little friend's squealing excitement than by any service to himself.

Once outside, James ran his hands a few times through his now silky and shining hair before he reapplied his thin hairband to tie it back. Since they were going to be gallivanting around Ponyville he had made sure that the spa ponies hadn't wasted their efforts on a treatment which would have been ruined by some roaming excitement.

Poppy pushed herself up in front of one of the establishment's windows and inspected her own splendid mane in the indistinct reflection despite the fact that she had already spent many awestruck minutes going over herself in front of an actual mirror inside. Her hair glowed with a bit more color now, the paleness warmed into fuller richness. Her bunny-ear bundles were undone; the strands of her hair all hung straight and orderly on one side of her neck, trimmed to an even length. Every now and again she jostled her head just to see her freed mane swing and fall in ways that it simply never could have while it had been bound up. She was enthralled by the newness.

She also rubbed her hoof all along the new Prideheart mark around her eye, wielding a big grin as she did so. While washing her face the spa ponies had incidentally cleaned off much of the old mark, as it hadn't been anything more than the crushed residue of ebony flower petals smeared around her eye and forehead. Much to the filly's glee they had created a new one for her out of professional makeup; a dark highlight done with perfect curves and points.

James bent over her and asked, "So, what did you think?"

"Hehe, I look weird!" she laughed back, still pleasantly bright and fascinated with her own reflection. Then she suddenly broke away to tell him, "That was great! I wish we had something like this place at Hamestown!"

"Maybe they will someday! Getting a day spa probably wasn't the first thing on their minds when they were setting up," he teased her.

She smiled while juggling a soft giggle, and she continued to scrutinize herself with an entranced gaze for several moments longer.

"I don't know if I want to keep my mane like this," she at last said. Half of her was serious with worry but the other half was delighted with humor. "Nopony at home would recognize me!"

"Well," the man stated while fishing her Heartwood-made hair ties out of one of his pockets, "let's put it up for now and if you change your mind we can let it down again." He winked cleverly, "Or you could always come back for another treatment."

She crooned a happy noise and bounced back from the window before they spent a moment restoring her mane to her preferred style. The filly mostly managed the work herself, whirling her hair into bunches with some swiveling of her head and some guidance from her hooves, and her flexibility and dexterity at the task greatly impressed James. Once they were finished she reviewed herself in the window quickly, bobbing her head a few times to watch her two bundles of mane bounce like floppy rabbit ears.

Lively and ready she expressed, "Okay! Where to next?"

"Oh boy, I hardly know," the man complained with a certain amount of cheer. A wiser and more detached individual might have spent the quieter moments in the spa determining their next destination but he had been too distracted by watching Poppy enjoy her treatments. "If I hadn't of missed your letter I would have prepared a better plan," he apologized. His hand straddled his chin and he rubbed his thoughts out, "Hm, what does a pony do after cleaning themselves up at the spa?"

The filly borrowed his thought and glanced about before she suddenly popped up brightly. Pointing away, she said to him, "Oh! Those ponies over there look like they need to clean up! Maybe we can ask them what they'd do?"

The Cutie Mark Crusaders waddled along the street just across the way, shaking and swatting themselves as they went. A spa perhaps wasn't what they needed so much as a bath more generally; a major, major bath. Sticky and soiled autumn leaves were caught up in their manes and tails, stuck under their hooves, and glued to their bodies from neck to flank. Pockmarked by the red, orange, yellow, and golden stars they shook and wiped them off as best they could while they continued on their way. Their big smiles shined through their coats of dirt, their outlook for the rest of their day still positive.

James grinned. Their untidy appearance was almost assuredly the result of one of their cutie mark-seeking shenanigans; some ill-gone effort to assist with the final steps of the autumn cleanup probably.

But if there were any ponies in all of Ponyville who would have been tremendously eager tour guides for Poppy...

He caught their attention with a sharp whistle and then waved for them to come over.

Coming to a sharp stop first, the crusaders brightened with jubilant surprise at the sight of the man. There had been plenty of previous encounters between them and him before; only natural considering he was a friend of their sisters' (or idol's in Scootaloo's case). They trotted over in skips and quakes to loosen the last of the leaves lingering on them, smiling the whole way.

"Hail, crusaders," the man greeted as they came to stop. He extended a partial bow that was easy with formality and ripe with a sense of fun.

"Well howdy, James!" Apple Bloom was fast to return. Poppy had grabbed the crusaders' eyes well before they had finished their approach and so she was quick to follow up in avid fascination, "Who's this?"

The man nodded at Poppy, pulling himself aside.

The ready filly had hardly needed any prodding though. She held herself up with an authority both assumed yet carefree, chin raised and chest out with a hooves curved back around to point at herself.

Triumphantly she introduced, "I'm Poppy of the Dryponies, official ambassador to Ponyville, and finest Branch Dancer in the Heartwood Guard." Her own overeager self-promotion took a humble step back so her chipper geniality could come forward, and she bowed over her hoof, "It's my Prideheart honor to meet you!"

Perhaps the greeting had been a dash too proud to have been polite and a smidgen too enthused to have been formal, but the filly's body language had been understood one hundred percent by the crusaders. They themselves were quite familiar with childish pride, and that language had been more accessible to them than any of the obscure references Poppy had spoken. Wide eyes and even wider smiles spread through their ranks, and they clamored to learn more.

Seeing that, James swiftly elaborated, "Poppy here is visiting Ponyville from Hamestown and Heartwood, beyond the Pearl Peaks." He gestured at Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom, "The place your sisters and I went to a few months ago with the others."

Instantly the stories came back to the crusaders and they were engulfed in interest, staring at Poppy as if they were altogether one happy and eager pony.

"Poppy," the man said to the Drypony, "allow me to introduce you to the Cutie Mark Crusaders."

"I'm Apple Bloom!" came the first greeting, homegrown, hearty, and delivered with all the same uninformed self-assurance that Poppy herself had just exhibited. The farm filly almost faltered for a moment afterwards, feeling a need to at least try and somewhat match the extended introduction the Drypony had given. Her eyes quickly flashed with something sly and she proclaimed confidently, "I'm the smart one! Pleased to meet you!"

Sweetie Belle gave a deliberate look to her redheaded friend, stained just shy of umbrage. Knowing better, she held herself up and enunciated a greeting that was very proper (and very vain), "I'm Sweetie Belle. I'm the pretty one. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"And I'm Scootaloo," the final crusader immediately followed in a cocky tone. "I'm the BEST one. 'Sup?"

The other two gave the small pegasus glances that were as disdainful as they were envious. If only they had been clever enough to have come up with that one first!

Poppy took in each of their introductions merrily but her head was twisted to one side. When they finished she still didn't return to normal; her eyes thinned in thought instead. Something was familiar.

"Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle are Applejack's and Rarity's sisters, respectively," James informed her.

"Oh, wow!" the filly lit up. The last vestiges of assumed self-importance were forced out by her sheer excitement and she beamed, crowing at the crusaders, "Nice to meet you!"

And suddenly, like that, they all stepped closer together and exploded into the kind of animated, endless, engaged, fast, frantic, jittery, whirring, and wild talking that young ones often do amongst themselves; speedy group conversations held to understood rules that only made sense to those below a certain age:

"The way you done up your mane is real pretty-like!"

"Thanks! I like your bow!"

"What's with the makeup on your eye?"

"It's my Prideheart mark!"

"Woah, your wings are smaller than mine!"

"Yeah, I used to tie'em up but it's okay, I don't need'em!"

James was pleased to stand aside and watch their energy bounce off of each other.

All the years of shepherding younger cousins at family events had given him an early adoration for children and all things of a still-growing sort. Making friends with the crusaders had been a far easier endeavor than with any of the others. He had been endeared to their antics and encouraging of their growth, and for their part they had simply enjoyed having a strange, goofy, two-legged they-didn't-know-what as a playful and supportive friend.

He stayed back and delighted in catching whatever he could from their hurricane of words.

The end came suddenly when Sweetie Belle discovered with a loud call, "Oh, hey! You already have your cutie mark!"

Scootaloo and Apple Bloom quickly pushed in on either side of the Drypony to catch a glimpse of the design branded upon the filly's flank: a long, thin leaf which cuddled a twig. They both let out curious gasps of pleasure.

"So what's your special talent?" Scootaloo asked briskly.

Poppy was confused as to what had captivated them. She could feel their immense interest pouring over her but she couldn't fathom at all why their stares all fell on her sides.

"Cutie mark? You mean... my-... my flank sign?"

The crusaders were in turn puzzled by her oblivious reaction. The conversation died, as if their common foalhood language had become incompatible over the issue.

James was puzzled as well, but only for a moment. He promptly realized the problem and inserted himself between the fillies, bending down like a wise giant.

"Girls, Poppy comes from a culture that... doesn't value magic very much at all... and so they tend to regard things related to magic as not very important. Things like spells, and flying... and I'll bet cutie marks too."

The three crusaders' reaction probably would have been just the same as if he had told them something like 'dog food gets its name from actually being made from dogs.' Or if he had said that boys and girls kiss because that's how babies are made.

The man remarked to Poppy, "I bet you barely even remember when you got your cutie mark, right?"

"It just showed up one day, I think...," the filly confirmed his guess with her idle thinking. "Sometime when I started training to be a Branch Dancer in the Heartwood Guard." She peeked again at the mark on her flank, hardly familiar with it herself; the design had been all but invisible to her any time she had caught sight of her reflection. "Nopony at home really ever talks about it."

"There, you see?" James opened his palm towards the crusaders.

The new thoughts intrigued Poppy, and she asked her fresh filly friends, "What's so important about my flank sign-... about my cutie mark?"

This was a strange reality! One where there existed ponies who weren't ALL about cutie marks? But nonetheless the crusaders were ever eager to share, and they swiftly filled with positive energy.

"Getting a cutie mark is only the most important thing anypony can do with their life EVER!" Scootaloo declared.

"Yeah," Sweetie Belle assisted, "your cutie mark represents something unique about you!" She took a step forward and tapped the Drypony's flank. "It shows the world who you're supposed to be and that you have a special talent!"

There was a small degree to which the man wanted to curb their overflowing enthusiasm, fearing that they might overwhelm poor Poppy with their incredible zeal. He didn't want the Drypony to feel guilty or embarrassed because she had been carrying a cutie mark all this time and it had meant nothing to her.

But he said nothing. As he watched he saw the little filly open herself up keenly to all the things that the crusaders expressed, her eyes fresh and her smile broad, both growing stronger. She wanted to understand; wanted to spend a little time in their world.

Apple Bloom dictated the logical conclusion, speaking to Poppy in a firm and supportive way, "If you have a cutie mark, that means you must have a special talent!"

Adopting her strongest thinking face, Poppy lowered her eyes to the ground and considered these new facts. Yet she gave no immediate answer. No matter how quick-hooved she was, she wasn't a quick-witted pony by any means.

It only amused James, and he helped her along, "You are pretty special, Poppy. What's your job at Heartwood again?"

"Oh! That's right!" she immediately realized. At proud attention once more she boldly reemphasized, "I'm the best Branch Dancer in the Heartwood Guard!"

Sweetie Belle asked slowly, "Your special talent is... dancing...?"

"No, hehe!" giggled Poppy. Now that it was her turn to share, she overflowed with her own boundless energy and practically gave them a demonstration of her skills, scrambling all around while staying in place, hopping and bouncing about as she rambled breathlessly.,

"A Branch Dancer is a Drypony who flies through the forest! They jump between trees really fast like birds and they climb up and down better than squirrels and they never lose their balance and they can hide in the leaves and strike at anytime and they are some of the best defenders of Heartwood cause they can get anywhere in the forest quickly and they never lose their balance again and they're just amazing!"

Even after she had finished speaking she continued to prance about with an unstoppable grin, pouring out her excess spirit freely.

The crusaders were adequately awed:

"Oooooh!"

"Wowww!"

"Like an acrobat! Cool!"

"We don't know what our special talents are yet," Apple Bloom related, twisting her body to clearly show the blank space on her flank. There was only the mildest tone of disappointment in her but it was wiped out immediately as she continued with determination, "But we intend to find out today and earn our cutie marks once and for all! That's why we're Cutie Mark Crusaders!"

Sweetie Belle reached out towards their new friend and invited, "Even though you already have a cutie mark you're more than welcome to become an honorary crusader!"

Poppy froze up in sudden joy, so gleefully enamored with the offer that her face shined like a spotlight. But then she pulled back as a niggle of childish worry seized her and she said skeptically, "I-... I'm already... part of the Heartwood Guard. I don't know if I'm allowed-"

James laughed and comforted her, "Poppy, they're very different things! The Crusaders aren't guards of any sort!"

"We call ourselves that cause we're crusadin' for our cutie marks!" Apple Bloom shouted nobly. "It's our quest!"

Curling a resolved hoof before herself Scootaloo added, "But the credo of the crusader is to help anypony with a blank flank to discover their true self and get their cutie mark! That's why even ponies with cutie marks can be honorary crusaders!"

The collapse of the last barriers let such wonderful exhilaration into the little Drypony that she leapt into the air.

"Count me in!"

Still thumping her hooves after she landed, she turned to James and said, "I can't wait to tell Lady Willow that I'm a crusader now too!"

She didn't leave herself any time to catch the man's smile in reply.

"Where do we start?" she eagerly asked her new sister crusaders.

"We've got a lot of things lined up today to try," said Sweetie Belle. "Stuff all over Ponyville!"

"We've been setting this up for a few weeks now," Scootaloo revealed, "but today's the day! We call it, Operation: Everything!"

Apple Bloom suddenly interrupted the excited proceedings with a very subdued, "Hey... I just had a thought..."

The sharp change of tone threw the others off and caused Sweetie Belle to sarcastically quip, "Well, stop the presses."

"Shut yer mouth!" the tiny farmpony snipped right back.

She crossed over from standing with her two fellows to standing next to Poppy and, pointing to the newest recruit, she floated, "I was just thinking... maybe we haven't found our cutie marks yet because... our special talents are something that only foreign ponies do? Like branch dancin'?"

The other two put on their thinking caps, with Scootaloo bringing a hoof up to her chin and rubbing vigorously.

"We already found out this morning that our special talents aren't sweeping the streets, or repairing tiled rooftops, or cobbling horseshoes, or working with the autumn cleanup crew...," she mulled out loud. As her sky-wandering eyes came back down she squinted at Apple Bloom and Poppy. Gingerly her hoof slowed its strokes until it came to a final stop. An awakened brightness splashed onto her face as her hoof came down in a stamp and she accepted loudly, "Yeah! That has to be it! It's the ONLY possible explanation! You're a genius, Apple Bloom!"

"I told you I was the smart one," the redheaded filly smugly smirked as she pressed a hoof into herself.

"Poppy," Sweetie Belle begged the newest crusader, "could you teach us to branch dance like you do?"

Caught up in the moment, and almost assuredly with having given less than a full amount of consideration, the Drypony earnestly replied, "I bet I probably could!"

"Alright!" Scootaloo exclaimed. "Let's head down to the Everfree Forest and-"

"Woah, woah, woah, okay, hold on, time out!" James called to get their attention, classically forming a 'T' with his hands. Some things when spoken aloud innately felt like MAYBE they were mistakes worth reconsidering, but other things SCREAMED with how much of a mistake they were, like a thousand angry blasts of thunder booming in the sky. There was no doubt in his mind that a bunch of rambunctious fillies trying to play Tarzan in the trees of the Everfree was just a horrible, rotten, no-good idea. "I'm going to have to shoot down that suggestion as too dangerous. I can't allow you girls to go frolicking through the trees unsupervised like that."

The crusaders all whined together, and Poppy complained glumly, "But it'll be alright! I'm the best!"

"Poppy, I have absolute faith in YOUR ability to move through the trees," the man strongly emphasized to the little pony, "but I'm... less certain... about your capacity to teach it as a skill. Besides, the Everfree Forest is dangerous and I can't have any of you tumbling down, or scraping your knees, or getting hurt and-"

"Yeah, but-" the upset Drypony tried to interrupt.

James quickly changed up his approach. He knew from experience that he could get more distance if he positioned himself as less of 'the bad guy' and more as one of them.

"As the only adult here, if one of you were to unfortunately get hurt then I'M going to be the one who gets in trouble for it because I didn't stop you," he flatly stated, laying his hand spread upon his chest.

He quickly hooked in an extra escape clause, "Besides, the Crusaders have put a lot of hard work into setting up all their activities for today and we don't want those good plans to go to waste, do we?" He opened his arms towards the original trio and said very deliberately, "You know, Poppy is officially here to see all of Ponyville. So, it would really help if she had some ponies to take her from place to place, you know, doing things around town."

"Oh!" Scootaloo chimed in, "You guys can come and crusade with us if you want!"

"Shoot!" Apple Bloom exclaimed in sudden worry. She realized, "If we don't hurry then we're going to be late for our meeting with Miss Nestingwing!"

"No time to lose, then! Come on, everypony!" Sweetie Belle encouraged them all, rolling a big wave with her hoof.

The three crusaders took off galloping down the road, rallied with a unified cry of, "CUTIE MARK CRUSADERS!"

Poppy gave James another fast, broad smile and then immediately set off following them. Her legs whipped up to speed, she chased with the occasional skip and hop, and she gave out her own little call of, "Cutie Mark Crusaders! Yay!"

The man picked up after them with enough controlled speed that he wouldn't lose them, though he would likely drag behind them and all their powerful enthusiasm. He held his hand over his comfortably red face, spilling muted laughter into his palm.

Oh, what a wonderful day!

---

"... Pinkie... I-... What...?"

The empty words dribbled out of Twilight's mouth. The pink pony's statement had been such an unexpected blow in both content and demeanor that producing any more sober of a reaction would have been totally unreasonable. It was barely possible for her to do any more than stand in her doorway and give a slack-jawed stare.

With a loud, roaring sniff, Pinkie Pie pulled some snot back up her nose. The suction caused her mane to compress into a compacted, craggy stone as she did it, but it poofed back into shape when she finished.

Words coated in sadness, expression ever more desperate, she complained again, "Why isn't James my friend?"

"Pinkie, that-... that's ridiculous! What-..."

The unicorn still found it impossible to get going. Her friend's concern implied something so patently ludicrous that there couldn't have been a rational response to it in all of Equestria. After all, hadn't she just spent a chunk of the morning conversing with James about everything she and her friends had been doing for him? And the man himself had even addressed them all collectively as friends. She believed in his efforts fully, and was proud of them! The idea that he had been denying friendship in any way was just absurd.

But... she also knew her pink friend very well. Eccentricities and irrational behaviors may have been Pinkie Pie's hallmark but there was a real pony underneath it all the candy coating. The sugary laughter on the outside was unequivocally just as integral a part of the pink pony as anything else, but it wasn't the only part. So it was one thing to see Pinkie's sad affections when they were merely an extension of her effervescent personality... but deep inside Twilight knew that her friend only got like this when there was a real wound on the pony underneath.

"Pinkie, I don't understand," she tried to reach across with her support. "What makes you say that?"

"Cause he's not my friend, Twilight!" Pinkie redundantly whines, the waterworks cranking up. She wobbled with worry and fidgeted with fear, lowering her distraught gaze. Stringently upset she chaotically fretted, "I don't think he WANTS to be..."

At that Twilight immediately (and again) regretted how much space she had been giving the man; how much trouble she had gone to in order to stay out of his way as part of his recovery; how much of her own curiosity she had suppressed so that he wouldn't have felt like she was a crushing weight hanging over him. Now, thanks to her restraint, she had no input as to his take on this greatly unanticipated matter. He had never ONCE approached her about trouble with Pinkie Pie.

Perhaps it was like his letters with Princess Celestia: he would have had no qualms about it if she had chosen to have questioned him even just a little bit, if only for curiosity's sake. But she had never let herself truly investigate his new friendships and now she was no less caught off guard than when she had discovered his lackadaisical days with Rainbow Dash.

Only this situation seemed painfully worse.

"Okay, okay," she moaned in frustration, bringing a hoof to her temple. "I have a hard time believing that but... I-, I need more than that, Pinkie."

For now the only data she could gather would have to come from the despondent pink pony herself.

"Thursdays... Thursdays are your day with him. What's been happening?" Her first guess came out instantly, in an unbelieving and startled gasp, "Has he been not showing up?!"

The pink pony's still fallen head countered in a sore mutter, "No... he shows up..."

"Alright," Twilight acknowledged, and then she guessed anew, "Has he been refusing to help out around Sugarcube Corner whenever you work there?"

"No... he helps...," she spouted dismally. There was another sniffle and then she felt the need to honestly add, "He's not a natural baker but he's good at following directions..."

Growing more exasperated, the unicorn continued to conjecture in increasingly strained fits, "Does he not help when you throw a party? Doesn't help organize supplies? Doesn't carry things around town? Won't help break anything down afterwards? Doesn't assist you in running it?!"

With the tears dripping from her still falling to the ground like the regular tinkles of a piano in tune being played, the weak reply came again, "No... he does whatever I ask him to..."

At last hitting the limits of her tolerance, and nearly angry, Twilight ground her teeth a little before loudly asking, "Then WHAT, Pinkie? What specifically is going on that makes you think he's not your friend?"

Up came the sad pony's sky blue eyes, rippling under the salty flood that coated them. In a voice which was as defeated as it was certain she whispered, "... He doesn't want to be around me..."

"What?"

Once more the unicorn felt saddled with an impossibility. Pinkie Pie's claim had come out so serious and solid – so perturbed at the basest level – but there was just no way it could have been anything more than an overreaction! It just couldn't have been real!

She told her agitated friend, "Pinkie... you can't just assume that-"

"Twilight!" the pink pony cried in pain. She took a step forwards and practically leaned into her friend, begging for an open ear and some understanding.

"He never SMILE smiles when we do things together! He never REALLY laughs; not from his heart! He never REALLY has any fun; not on the inside!"

Her forehooves came up and squished themselves into Twilight's cheeks, and she pulled herself in, face to wet-eyed face. The front curl of her mane wrapped itself around the unicorn's horn in want of comfort, her pupils shrunk into horrified pinpricks like the most distant stars whose faint glimmer was only their constant weeping, and she shared the greatest terror of all in a voice of quiet dread.

"And he never sings, Twilight. HE—NEVER—SINGS."

"Peekey-" Twilight uttered her friend's distorted name through her squeezed cheeks.

"And I've tried!" Pinkie Pie carried on. "I've tried teaching him the simplest songs! Baking songs for young foals and birthday songs for growing ponies! But when we go to sing them he only ever hums the tune or whispers the words! He only raises his voice when singing with a group at a party, and even then he doesn't really let anything go! He hides inside everypony singing!" Softly (for Pinkie Pie) she jiggled her friend's head and groaned unhappily, "Why, Twilight? WHY?!"

Magical light emitted from Twilight's strangled horn. It tenderly unwound the choking pink mane and gently pried the hooves from her cheeks. She set the pink pony down with care, taking a moment to try and truly observe her wounded and saddened friend. As much as she could, she shared in her friend's despair...

... But there was a real difficulty with only having Pinkie Pie's spontaneous and indistinct take on everything. Still, she knew that for this normally shining and overly optimistic pony to be acting this way there MUST have been something true to her complaints.

At last, with the friendliest condolences she had, she said, "Pinkie... you know how subdued and reserved he can be about some things. How he likes quiet parties. Maybe-... maybe he just doesn't LIKE to sing? And maybe it makes him uncomfortable when you ask him to?"

"But he does like to sing!" she protested back. "He told me so himself once! He just- he just- he just-... never does..."

She fell far, far, far away.

"... WITH ME..."

"Well... I've-... I've never heard him sing, either," Twilight offered in attempted sympathy. The realized fact didn't strike her as unusual given the personality of his that she knew.

The gesture didn't work however. The melancholic pink pony swept her head back and forth in confusion, the glum curls of her mane wobbling with sagging and sour energy.

She murmured, "I've tried so many songs... so so so so so many songs... Not a single song did it... Won't sing... won't sing..."

Twilight sighed.

It shouldn't have been such an important thing but clearly it was to Pinkie Pie. Singing didn't seem to be something that fit James' character. However, she thought a little bit about the words she had exchanged with the man this morning; about how different sides of himself had been coming out with each different pony he had spent time with.

Why would James have told Pinkie Pie that he likes to sing?

Unless it had been some misinterpreted joke, she guessed it must have been true on some level and he had let it slip past his guard at one point. Naturally that didn't mean that he'd sing at the drop of a bit for anypony who asked him to; weaving songs could have been something very personal to him. But in such a case, if there had been ANYPONY who could have gotten him to sing... it would have been Pinkie Pie.

Seeking a solution, she started with the most obvious and asked, "Have you talked to him about all this?"

"Of course!" the pink pony whined plainly in response. There was no follow-up, even as Twilight's face and the very air itself seemed to obviously call for one.

"Pinkie," the unicorn strenuously pressed.

"I did!" she swore. "I baked him a cake to let him know how I feel!"

From some invisible, unknowable space she produced a slightly aged cake, holding it up and forward in order to display the top to Twilight. The white cream and blue frosting of the simple, round cake highlighted the design which was placed right in the center: made from gumdrops, sprinkles, and pink frosting was an image of Pinkie Pie's own sad face, with big tears flowing out of her large, sorrowful, puppy-like eyes, and an enlarged lower lip that was flipped out in bitter despondency. By the way she held it next to her current face it was all but literally a mirror; the appearance of a dejected, two-headed pony; double despair.

She tossed the cake high into the air behind her, not even bothering to look back as she did, and she complained through sobs, "I showed it to him and-, and-, and he-... he kinda shrugged, and he laughed, like really poorly, and he-, he-, he said... it was a 'FUNNY-LOOKING CAKE'!" Again her faucets powered up. "'Funny-looking', Twilight!"

"Okay, that-... that probably wasn't the... clearest approach to take," the unicorn said, trying to be as consoling as she could. She advised, "Pinkie, you'd do a lot better if you just talked to him about it directly."

Pinkie Pie cringed in fear.

"I-I-I can't!" she worried. Suddenly she dove forward and wrapped her forelegs around her friend's, squeezing tight enough to cut off the flow of blood to Twilight's hooves. "You're actually his friend, Twilight. Please! Can't you talk to him about it for me?" Her eyes peeked past her friend, watchfully looking into the library.

"Maybe a little," accepted Twilight hesitantly, knowing that the man's perspective on everything was vital to figuring this all out. But she also tried to maintain her understanding of the personal nature of friendship, and so she encouraged, "Though you really need to talk with him yourself about this."

The pink pony's scared stare inside the library only deepened as she thought about it, and her pinching grip tightened. Eventually she turned her head away and shook it in frightened rejection.

Twilight took only a single confused moment more to realize why her friend was so spooked by the inside of her home.

"Oh. He's not-... he's not here, Pinkie. He left a little bit ago."

Pinkie Pie suddenly looked up, the surprise great enough to clog her steady stream of tears. Twisting her head, her knotted legs slowly came undone and she stood up, never losing her perplexed gaze on her friend.

"But-... but...," she spoke hollowly, "Saturday... YOUR day..."

Twilight did NOT mess with schedules.

Shaking her forelegs to try and restore feeling to them, the unicorn brought one of her hooves behind her head and uneasily explained, "I know. But I gave up my day with him this week. You see: Poppy, the Drypony filly we met a few months ago, came to Ponyville for an unannounced visit. I thought he should spend the day with her instead. I mean... you should have seen the way he... just TURNED ON as soon as she was here. It was like a light in him just started shining! I really thought that-"

Something rumbled inside of Pinkie Pie and her whole body started quaking. Her mouth bent in several places at odd angles, and her eyes seemed to crack and shatter like broken windows. All her hair, both mane and tail, started to melt in despair.

"Uh... whoops...," Twilight acknowledged her mistake of speaking perhaps too candidly.

Without a doubt Pinkie Pie remembered the little filly. She also remembered the positive way James had responded to her. She hadn't thought much of it at the time except for her usual giggling happiness at seeing others so happy. But now, hearing about the instant effect which Poppy's return had produced in the man, she came to fully face the fact that the tiny Drypony had effortlessly done something in an instant that she had failed to do with months of her best efforts.

And the feeling was like playing 'Pin the Tail on the Pony' all over her heart, poking it full of holes.

She raised up her two jittering right legs and suddenly did an about-face, as if she were going to simply walk away. She did manage to take a few steps, with her violent and spasmodic shuddering causing her to unevenly wobble from one side to the other as she went. When she became overwhelmed, only just a few paces away from the library door, she dropped into a sitting position, still jumping with occasional jolts. A heavy weight descended upon her, like her whole body was being drenched with tears yet to be shed, dragging her down towards the earth. Finally, she teetered back and forth before she flopped forwards onto her face with a squishy plop. Her defeated mane folded down over her face like a white sheet being cast over dilapidated furniture, hiding the quiet blubbering that she began underneath.

Comments

[Leingod]

Wow. It actually physically hurt a bit when I envisioned what Pinkie looks like at the end there. Kudos, dear author.

[Violet-Dragoon]

I don't think Pinkie knows that human males are vastly different when it comes to emotions. Typically, men don't put as much emphasis on it and can't process it as well as women can; they tend to try and think things to their logical conclusion. While this is the standard, it isn't a rule by any means.

Oh well, that gross over generalization is out of the way. Good job, sorry for my mindless philosophical conundrum there... Don't know why it happens.

[JBL]

Oof. Pinkie isn't really one of my favorite characters, but I felt pretty bad for her there at the end.

[Kenny]

Depressed Pinkie is the worst Pinkie.

Sadly, while Pinkie does have a solid intuition and social skill, James is (while I hate to say it) out of her league.

Extra-terrestrial entities tend to do that. (Or Extra-Equestrial in this case.)

[Jack Kellar]

Can't say I sympathize with miss Pinkamena here. She's forgetting the very simple fact that Jim is NOT a pony and as such doesn't behave like one. Hope she learns something about tact and comprehension from this complete flop.