This is a superfluous feature and you should feel superfluous.
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Pinkie was sitting by Dash’s bed, as she had been for several days. She had been suffering for a while now. The room was very quiet, and the lights were rather dim. Normally Pinkie would be telling stories and singing songs, but Twilight said it would be better if she were left to rest.
So she sat in silence.
“How’re you feeling, Dashie?”
“Slow.” A long pause. “You?”
Pinkie Pie’s skip had lost some of its jump, but she didn't tell her that.
“Me? I feel guh—reat!”
“Oh, Pinkie Pie. You are so—random.”
She didn't make the contradiction. Dash’s ears had been failing for a while now; she probably heard something different.
They sat quietly for a while.
“Can I see the sky?”
The request made her eyes widen. Rainbow Dash hadn’t wanted to see the sky for a long time.
“Of course!” She stuck her hoof out, gently pushing one of her forelegs under Dash's shoulder. She began to tug gently.
“You’ll get hurt.”
She tugged quicker, and heard little gasps.
“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry—”
The pegasus began to move by herself, pushing herself off of the bed while Pinkie Pie helped her down. It took, by Pinkie's guess, just around five minutes.
Rainbow Dash laughed, a deep, rasping sound. “Ow. Must be a new record.”
They laughed together quietly for a while. Pinkie Pie had tears in her eyes, but hid them.
She helped Dash to her hooves, stabilising her. As they reached the stairs, she reached to carry her; she lifted her by the barrel with all of her strength and tugged, pulling her up as she began to walk down.
As she went, she promptly stepped on a protruding nail; in her shock, she tripped and hit the floor very hard.
Pinkie Pie hugged herself tight to Dash for a moment before pulling away, ignoring her own bruises in favour of finding Dash's as her heart palpitated. “Dashie? Dashie!”
To her infinite relief, she heard a wry chuckle. “Best flight ever.”
That wasn’t the best flight ever, Pinkie Pie did not say. I almost got you killed.
“You okay, Dashie? Did you break your wings? I'm so sorry, I'm so so so sorry.”
She only laughed in response, trying to push herself up; Pinkie reached out a hoof, and she took it.
“Are you okay? I'm so super-duper sorry. I can't believe I dropped you, I stepped on a nail—”
“I'm fine, Pinkie. It'll take more than that to hurt me. You’re sounding like your mother.” Dash pulled herself up, grinning. She looked just the same as she always had. “‘Oh, boo-hoo. Won’t I ever have a grandchild, Pinkamena? Think of your poor old mother.’”
Pinkie Pie only managed a tiny smile.
“C’mon. Don’t tell me I’ve gotta be the Element of Laughter too.”
Pinkie Pie laughed, and laughed, until she had tears in her eyes and her throat hurt.
“That’s better.” She reached out her hoof to wipe her face, and her cyan fur turned a bit darker where it had touched her tears. She looked at it for a bit and licked it, grinning; Pinkie Pie made a face of mock distaste.
They went outside together, and saw the clear blue sky.
They looked at it for a while, until Dash spoke.
“Sure is, Dashie!”
They looked at it for a while more, until Dash spoke again.
“I wanna fly again. I really wanna fly.”
Pinkie knew. “I can put some balloons on you and we can go up together!”
She looked imploringly at her. “I want to do a Sonic Rainboom again.”
Her voice became a little low. “You know that’s impossible, Dashie.”
“What happened to you, Pinkie? When’d you become like this?”
“Like what?” Pinkie knew what, but she didn’t say.
“Like this. You might as well be gray.”
She looked at herself carefully. Not a hint of grey.
The pegasus chuckled. “Not literally. You silly filly. What, want chocolate rain too?”
Pinkie chuckled weakly back, and they were silent for a while.
“Do you want to go back in?”
“No.” She shook her head. “No. I don’t want to go back in. I want to fly.”
“I told you, Dashie. You can’t. If you fell out of the clouds, you’d—”
“I’d what? I’d what, huh? Die? How the hay is that any different from what I am no—” Her sentence was interrupted by a fit of coughing, red spraying out onto her coat and the grass.
“No. No, Pinkie, you’ve gotta understand. What if you couldn’t eat any more sweets? What if Twilight got her horn sawn off? How’d you feel, huh? How do you think she'd feel, huh? Huh?”
Pinkie hadn’t ever really thought of it that way.
“It wouldn’t be nice.”
She didn’t seem to have heard her; perhaps she misheard her. “And you can just bounce around all you like, and you’re just staying here. With me.” Pinkie could see tears brimming. “With me, useless me with half my legs in the grave, and you can’t—you can’t even—”
She couldn't continue; there wasn't a response.
“Why?” Hoarse, wretched. “Why here? Why me?”
Dash looked at her for a second before her head pushed itself under her chin, cold forelegs wrapped around her. From something so frigid, the tears were like fire. They hugged for a bit before Pinkie spoke.
“What do you want me to do, Dashie?”
She looked up at her, eyes now dry. “Just... be yourself, Pinkie. Please.”
Pinkie smiled—sincerely, this time, not the half-smiles and half-laughs since the sickness set in—and nodded. “Lokie.”
She went through the familiar motions.
“Cross my heart, hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye.”
Rainbow grinned. “That’s the Pinkie I remember.”
And for a moment, Pinkie thought she could see the Dash she could remember too.