Lost and Found

by Cloudy Skies

15. Ponyville

Twilight flung another cupcake into her mouth and gobbled it down with ferocity she had previously not known could be applied to eating. When had she last eaten anyway? She knew Spike tried his best to make sure she ate, but sometimes when she realized she needed a break to eat and ensure she didn't keel over, it would be in the dead of night.

For this reason, Pinkie Pie dropping by with a full tray of assorted cupcakes, muffins and other pastry treats was a welcome diversion. Well, perhaps not diversion. That would imply she'd stopped going through her notes and books for even a second. Besides, if the sugar and the pitcher of lemonade was a helpful addition to her research, the pink pony herself was proving to be more of a distraction. Presently, Pinkie Pie was bouncing around her room, inspecting, poking at, and in some cases tasting everything she came across.

"I love your new room! So many fun little things, and some of them are super shiny!" Pinkie declared, gently tapping at the alchemical glass that held the remains of Twilight's last experiment. She herself couldn't even remember what she'd been working on. That'd been last week, probably.

"You really should look into maybe getting a bed, though. I mean, you have one, but it's all wrong. Usually, I have mine flat against the ground, not sideways," Pinkie went on, miming something in the corner of Twilight's vision.

"Mhm," Twilight offered, her eyes roving over the fruits of the past days' research.

"Oh, and maybe some light, too!" Pinkie added. "Sunlight, lamplight, any light at all! Ponies could trip and fall here."

"I don't have ponies in my room," Twilight muttered with a glance over at Pinkie. "Usually."

"Air, too! If you opened a window, maybe the room would smell of something other than dust and paper and boring?"

"I bet it would," Twilight agreed, not looking up as she levitated over Equestria's last remaining copy of 'Equestrian Borders: What Lies Beyond'.

"And you know, I don't usually bother with putting everything in neat little stacks like Rarity does because sometimes, messy can be fun, but you really should look into cleaning up a bit," Pinkie said, pausing for a moment. "Twilight, your room is terrible, and you look like you've eaten two full bowls of tired-puffs too."

"Probably." Twilight shrugged, then sighed, casting a quick glance across the battlescape that was her loft; magical devices, alchemical items and books, all covered in another layer of books and scrolls. Heavy drapes hung in front of the window, and a single firefly lamp provided the illumination she needed to read. Her optician would probably yell at her if she knew.

"Pinkie, I'm very grateful for the snacks, but if you don't think my room is a nice place to be, then you should probably just leave. I don't mean to be rude, but I'm not exactly in the mood to clean up right now." Her tongue felt odd and words were awkward. She hadn't spoken this much to anypony in weeks.

Pinkie Pie nodded along with her every word until she'd finished, at which point she shook her head and smiled brightly. "Nopey-dopey! I'm okay with a little mess. This is nothing compared to when me and the foals were trying to make dinner for Mr. Cake's birthday," she giggled.

Twilight shrugged. "Still, I'd really rather prefer to be alone for this if you don't mind."

"Oh, I don't," Pinkie agreed. "Well, a little, maybe, but not too much."

Twilight flashed something resembling a smile and shrugged. "No problem. Thanks for coming by," she said, eager to get back to the dull monotony of her reading.

Except Pinkie Pie wasn't moving at all. She sat completely still, smiling at Twilight from over by the door. Every now and then, she tilted her head a bit or hummed tunelessly to herself.

"Uh, good bye?" Twilight suggested.

"Oh no, I don't mind, but Princess Celestia said we should stick together, so I'm sticking together!" Pinkie declared. "I don't really mind that, either. I like together."

"Yes," Twilight said, staring a hole in the parchment she'd been trying and failing to read for minutes now. "Yes, I imagine Celestia said exactly that."

"You mean Princess Celestia," Pinkie said. The pink pony sat opposite of her now, and was squinting, a pink, curly-haired one-pony inquisition.

"Yeah," Twilight said, swallowing and reaching out to push Pinkie away so her mane didn't get in the way of her reading. Pinkie made a single menacing hop to sit back down on top of her scroll, snout grinding against Twilight's.

"You always say Princess," Pinkie said, frowning.

"Do I?" Twilight asked, pulling back and twisting her head to casually skim the words of a book conveniently placed at her side. She'd read it cover to cover yesterday, of course.

"Yes you do!" Pinkie insisted. "You call her Princess Celestia, but now you said Celestia!"

"I guess that means I should be arrested for insubordination," Twilight grumbled, reaching up to rub her tired and aching eyes. "In all seriousness, thank you for coming by, but I would rather be alone right now. I think I need a nap soon. Is it still Thursday?"

Pinkie drew back and nibbled her lower lip. Twilight put on her biggest smile and reached out to put a hoof on her friend's shoulder. "I appreciate it, but I'm fine alone."

"That's good," Pinkie said, the corners of her mouth sagging as her entire body seemed to droop. "I mean, even if I think you're lying a little, but you're not the only pony here, Twilight. I don't think I'm completely super-duper fine myself."

Pinkie Pie rose to stand and made for the door with heavy steps. Twilight closed her eyes and hung her head, wondering when, exactly, she had so completely lost sight of everything that mattered. Before Pinkie had taken more than two steps, she reached out and dragged her close, forelegs wrapped around her neck. Pinkie immediately returned the hug, and for long minutes they sat there in silence holding each other close.

Minutes. Time that could have been spent more efficiently. There was nothing saying she couldn't combine her research with being a good friend. Giving Pinkie a final, tight squeeze, she held the oddly mellow pink pony at a leg's length and smiled at her.

"I'm sorry, Pinkie Pie. Would you like to help me with my research?" she asked, instantly rewarded with a huge grin the likes of which only Pinkie Pie could put on.

"That sounds fun!" she beamed, scooting over to sit flank to flank with Twilight. "So, what are we researching? The nasty little piece of armor? Bogeyponies? New cooking recipes? Tell me!"

Fighting back the rather loud and insistent voice that suggested asking Pinkie Pie to aid her was a terrible idea, Twilight shook her head. "None of those. Uh, actually, we're researching the princesses. Or, I am."

"Oh. Okie-dokie! Why?" Pinkie asked.

Twilight drew breath and let it out slowly, trying to rearrange all the pieces in her mind. Perhaps something good may come of this yet. In answering Pinkie, she was forced to make herself look at this from afar, to distance herself and present an overview. Maybe she'd find something definitive.

"Well, my theory is that the princesses, meaning Luna and Celestia, aren't true goddesses as seems to be implied, and that their power is in fact limited," Twilight said, smiling inwardly at her brevity.

"Did they ever say they were or weren’t?" Pinkie asked, her head tilted horizontally.

Twilight's left ear twitched. "No. Not per se."

"Meaning nopey-dopey?"

"Yes, meaning no, but the point is," Twilight pressed. "Most ponies assume they are eternal, yet their role, or rather, their lack of a role in the oldest recorded historical text—the Heart's Warming Eve play—is never commented upon. It is the first of many little holes in oral history written down after Equestria’s founding."

Mercifully, Pinkie didn't deign to comment on that with another interruption. Twilight levitated up the master list of minor contradictions and missing info that she had compiled, a rather lengthy scroll as heavy with notes and annotations as it was with its main points.

"Princess Celestia made it sound like they were present back then, that they migrated here, but I've never heard her speak on the subject, and she was vague all evening," Twilight added. "I remember each and every word that they said that day, the morning after Fluttershy and Applejack went missing, and it just heightens my suspicions."

"Furthermore, the border forts register all those who cross the borders each way, and while diplomats have come and gone, the princesses have never been seen leaving. We’re talking about thousands of years here. That doesn’t strike you as a little odd?"

Pinkie stuck her tongue out of her muzzle and frowned. "So why don't you just ask her?"

Twilight sighed and lay the scroll back down. "She's cryptic and vague on the best of days, and I used to think this was just how she worked. Goddesses, immortal beings, they're allowed their share of eccentricities, right? Besides, she's been like—" she paused, swallowing a lump and looking away.

"She's been like a second mother to me. No, more. I don't know what's true anymore. Is she not helping find our friends because she can't, or because she won't?"

"Do you think she doesn't want to help Fluttershy and Applejack?" Pinkie asked, crossing her forelegs.

"No! I mean—I don't know what I think any more!" Twilight cried.

"But for some reason, it matters a lot whether Princess Celestia is really really old or super-forever-duper old? That's what this is all about? Whether she's some kind of awesome goddess, or just an equally awesome pony?"

Twilight closed her eyes and sank down onto the floor. Pinkie Pie had the right of it, of course. As much as she didn't want to admit it, she'd always known. The weeks she'd sunk into trying to find something tangible, to find proof of what Celestia and her sister really were, it was folly. It was an utterly pointless chase that would gain her nothing. Pointless except for that one little detail that stung.

"Kind of," Twilight admitted, lowering her voice a tad until she sounded like a sullen filly. "I just don't like the idea that she's lied to me."

Pinkie Pie poked Twilight's snout with her own. Cracking an eye open, Twilight could see Pinkie was smiling, but she wasn't laughing. No inappropriate mocking laughter, just a confident smile.

"You're being very silly. You just told me she never lied."

"A lie by omission is still a lie," Twilight muttered. "It’s not about telling a lie, it’s about living one, but I know. It's an overreaction. It doesn't really matter."

Pinkie sat up and nodded vigorously. Twilight followed suit, a little slower.

"It shouldn't, but it does. I mean it when I said she's meant a lot to me."

"Well duh," Pinkie giggled. "We know you and the princess are super important to each other!"

"When I wake up in the morning, I know I can do anything. I used to, anyway." Twilight snorted. "It's been routine ever since she took me in. I snooze for as long as I can get away with without impacting my schedule, I grab my morning tea, Spike and I have breakfast, and then, I could head out into the world knowing and believing I could do anything."

"If the princess needed me to climb a mountain, I would and I did. If I had a plan, if I believed there was something I needed to do, I would. If there was something dangerous that I wasn't sure if I could accomplish? If all of us had something terrifying but important that we had to do, why do you think I did it?"

Twilight shook her head. She wasn't quite so far gone as to lapse into pointless melancholy, but it was a different world now.

"I could do all these things because I knew she would always keep me safe, and that she cared. I knew she trusted me. If she's lied to me, and there are things she hasn't told me for whatever reason, then that all changes. I didn't just look up to her, I—" she choked on the words, breathing through her nose.

"I loved her, but it doesn't even matter. Ever since Chrysalis defeated her, I didn't know what to think, and now this? Applejack and Fluttershy are gone, and for the first time in my life, Princess Celestia outright admits she can't do anything? Everything is wrong!"

Pinkie Pie was staring at her, big blue eyes unblinking, and her usually chipper demeanor reduced to the shadow of a wan smile.

"I guess you're not just super important, but super-duper extra special important to each other, then," Pinkie said, scratching herself behind the ears. "Wow."

"At least she is, or was, to me. I have no idea what I am to her," Twilight admitted, but as soon as the words had left her mouth, Pinkie was up in her face again, another in a rapid series of invasions of personal space.

"That's two counts of silliness!" Pinkie declared. "Of course you're important to her!"

Twilight couldn't quite muster the energy to fight that statement. She was very aware that she was running on coffee- and tea-fumes mixed with a dash of magic, and her body was choosing trying to remind her of this fact now. She waved a hoof dismissively, but Pinkie grabbed Twilight’s leg with her own.

"If Princess Celestia could have saved Princess Luna alone, don’t you think she would have? She didn’t! She chose to trust you to help her! I mean, sheesh, even I thought that was a little funny,” she giggled. “The six of us stomping out there to fight Nightmare Moon.”

“Not me, all of us, but I still don’t see—”

“No, you don’t!” Pinkie interrupted, poking Twilight on the nose. “You closed your eyes the second Princess Celestia took a little tumble when Chrysalis was all super-powerful and cheating and stuff, but she trusts you. She trusts you just like I do, just like Dashie and Rarity,” she said, her smile wavering a bit. “Just like Fluttershy and Applejack.”

“I know,” Twilight huffed.

“You know?” Pinkie asked, pursing her lips. “Because if you know, why are you cooped up here with all your books instead of doing anything else? You’re looking for some way to prove that Princess Celestia is all wrongy-wrong? Why?”

Twilight reached out to poke at a stack of books close by, watching the pile of literature wobble as she thought. She had to begin with excising any attachment because of the time she’d put into this. She knew there was a real answer to Pinkie’s simple one-word question, a purpose beyond not wanting to have wasted so much time on something that seemed childish all of a sudden.

“Because,” Twilight said, licking her lips as she flitted from book to book in her mind, only to finally arrive at something that wasn’t in any book. More than any of these days spent in her room trying to dig through the past, she remembered the abortive meeting with the Princess weeks hence. The one time she’d tried to speak to her, and how she had failed. She knew now that she hadn’t been ready to talk to her then, but now it all made sense.

“Because I need it. I need an in. A question. Something to throw at her,” Twilight admitted. “I’m not afraid of her, but sometimes, I can’t think clearly around her. You know how it is, how everything else dims when she’s near, right? How it gets harder to think?”

Pinkie blinked and smiled. “Nope!”

Twilight blushed and shook her head. “Point is, I’ll never be able to just walk up there and accuse her of lying. You’re right. It’s a foal’s approach, a child’s logic. I don’t even have a question!”

“But you want to talk about her and Chrysalis and Fluttershy and Applejack?”

“Yes. I want to, I need to. It’s not just for me,” Twilight huffed, rolling her neck. “I refuse to believe there’s nothing she can do for Fluttershy and Applejack. That’s just ridiculous. Maybe that’s what I’m afraid of. What if she’s lying about that? Worse, what if she’s not?”

Pinkie Pie shrugged, her unshakable smile trained straight on Twilight, who, for her part, rubbed at one of her knees and tried to avoid her gaze.

“Or maybe she needs you to trust her, for a change? And it sounds like you do, to me. Maybe you can start by trusting her to give you honest answers if you can just ask her some really boring Twilight-y questions that you need answered?”

“Maybe,” Twilight muttered, rubbing one of her knees.

---

There was no way to win. When Rainbow Dash upped her speed and flapped her wings as hard as she could, Cloudsdale blurred in front of her as it grew, but she also started feeling the slow dread of anxiety. When she slowed down and resigned herself to glide upon the night winds, the answers hovered out of reach.

She’d met Fluttershy’s parents once or twice when she was a filly, she was sure, but nothing really stood out. Fluttershy would usually insist they play in the wild clouds or in the city, and if they absolutely had to go somewhere, it would always be Rainbow Dash’s place. After all those years, the terminally shy filly could hold something resembling a normal conversation even with Dash’s own mom.

And therein the clue. Except for some vague memory of Fluttershy’s dad glaring at her when she followed her home once, her pegasus friend’s parents had no reason to know who she was other than what Fluttershy told them.

Your Rainbow Dash.

Why her? Why not ‘your friends’? And then the nonsense about a wedding? The white arches, columns, and the silvery clouds of Cloudsdale still grew in the darkness, and her mouth went dry as she soared over the cloud-city, trying to pick out the residential quarters on the north side. Past the quiet Cloudiseum and over the gentle cloud-banks she flew, passing by the building that hid her favorite pizza place. Fluffy cumuli glittered with magical lights, and finally she could make out carefully sculpted roofs and elegant cloud-gardens.

The northern face of the city held some of the finest mansions in all of Cloudsdale, and it certainly didn’t help calm her nerves when she realized that the street address Rarity had given her pointed straight to one of the finer villas on the largest of the clouds. Fluttershy’s parents must’ve moved. It would’ve been hard to forget a visit here.

Being afraid was dumb, though. She had nothing to be afraid of. Dash soared over the lovingly crafted sculptures of the garden, past a peculiarly mundane and doubtless enchanted non-cloud garden of tulips and other flowers, and landed in front of the door with a solid thump. White walls of cloud-stuff towered over her, and even the door suddenly seemed to large. When she knocked on the door, her hoof barely made a sound.

It wasn’t like it was her fault Fluttershy was missing. Not any more than it was Twilight’s fault. Or Pinkie Pie’s. Or anypony else.

The door swung open all too soon. She could’ve stood there all night and it would still have been too soon. The tension was somewhat dispelled by the fact that the large yellow pegasus who opened the door wore a nightcap and had a toothbrush sticking out of his mouth. Toothpaste was steadily dripping on to the large and friendly doormat under Dash’s hooves.

“Huh,” was all the stallion said, frowning. After a moment’s deliberation, he leaned back to grab his toothbrush in a wing, landing a rather wide streak of paste across his long brown mane.

“You’re Fluttershy’s dad?” Rainbow Dash asked, raising a brow.

“And you’re Rainbow Dash,” the stallion retorted with a shrug.

“Uh-huh,” Dash replied, shifting her weight a bit. He wasn’t that much taller than her. Just about twice as broad. The way he wore that faint scowl reminded her of Rarity more than anything else, but on a pony half again her size, it was a little unsettling. It was hard to decide whether the foam around his lips made it comical, or twice as freaky.

“So, yeah. I need to talk to you. Gonna let me in?” Dash asked. It was really very dark out.

“A month ago, maybe. If you asked nice. Now? Wasn’t planning on it, no,” the yellow pegasus replied, shrugging before he turned and walked down the hallway inside the house. He made to tug the door shut with his tail, but Dash jammed a hoof in the doorway on pure reflex. The rapidly receding pegasus gave no real indication that he cared, ignoring her like so much dust as he turned a corner.

Rainbow Dash opened her mouth to say—no, to shout something; to try to give voice to the sheer indignation and confusion she felt, but no sooner had she drawn breath than she was interrupted by a melodious voice from somewhere deeper inside the house.

“Who was it, dear?”

“Nopony,” the brusque stallion retorted.

Dash rolled her eyes and pulled the door fully open, demonstratively sitting down on the welcome mat.

“That didn’t sound like nopony~” the other voice sang.

“It’s me. Uh. I’m Rainbow Dash,” Dash chanced. The now rather more tired-looking and grumpy pegasus stallion poked his head out from a nearby room to frown at her before flicking his toothbrush over his shoulder. Rainbow Dash ran a hoof through her mane and cleared her throat as the silence stretched on for longer than was strictly comfortable.

“Then let her in,” the other voice finally said. Dash smirked the smirk of the victorious and flexed her wings while her opposition rolled his eyes and trotted down the hall. Expecting no second invitation, Dash trotted inside.

The blue smoothed walls passed by quickly, and the house, mansion—whatever one’d call it, was probably very nice, but Dash was much more interested in the set of whispers around the next corner. The urgent hisses and the airy replies were made a little less interesting when she knew she was expected. Eavesdropping wasn’t exactly in the cards.

The hallway opened into a large Cloudsdale style living room with seating pillows and clouds, a fireplace, and a small bar on the far wall. All about the room, in pots, vases and wall-mounted sconces were brightly colored flowers the names of which Dash didn’t know. The stallion she’d already taken a win from was standing over by a small couch upon which sat an earth pony mare.

The resemblance was stunning. If not for her mane, which was done in a loose ponytail, she could easily have been Fluttershy’s older sister. Where the stallion’s flank was adorned with a shooting star, the mare had three flowers. Fluttershy’s mom, then.

“I’m not saying I’m happy,” the mare said, clearly responding to something whispered. She glanced over at Rainbow Dash before she turned back to look at her husband with a smile. “I just don’t see the point in acting like a sullen foal.”

The stallion sighed and hung his head, and for a moment, Dash entertained the notion that she might actually get a chance to get some simple answers. She put on her best smile as she took a step forward, only to have that hope dashed to the ground when the mare turned over the rim of the couch to give her a glare so cold, Dash froze on the spot. The uncanny resemblance to Fluttershy had been a little painful, at first, but the similarities ended there.

“You best start talking, and quick. Why are you here, now?”

“If it’s really that big a deal that it’s late, I can come back tomorrow,” Dash shrugged.

“Are you trying to be funny?” the stallion snapped. Rainbow Dash glared right back at the both of them as they looked down their snouts at her.

“I don’t even know what you mean!” Dash said. “Are you both crazy or something? I came here because I—uh, I read something, and you’re treating me like I’ve bucked a hole in your ceiling or something!”

“I don’t know what game you’re playing here, but you come walking into our lives after all these years, months after our daughter goes missing, and you pretend like nothing?” the mare asked, gaping. At her side, the stallion’s wings flared. It’d have been scary had it not been so very, very frustrating.

“Playing? Games?” Dash asked, breaking into a hover. “Here’s what happens: one of my best friends disappear, and I find some letter you’ve written, something about me and Fluttershy being together or whatever. How confused to do you think I am, huh? What the hay is going on?”

The stallion was up in the air in an instant, his forehead pressed to hers with a subvocal growl. “How dare you? I may wish she’d have made some different choices, but don’t you dare turn your back on—”

“Don’t I dare what?” Dash yelled, pushing back. “Who the hay told you Fluttershy and I were anything more than friends? Who’s been lying about us?”

“You come into our house and call our Fluttershy a liar?” the stallion boomed.

“Don’t you call Fluttershy a liar!” Rainbow Dash shrieked, her voice cracking. Every single part of her body tensed up as she raised a hoof—

The room grew very silent, very quickly.

“Honey, I think she’s being sincere,” the flower-flanked mare said.

Rainbow Dash landed on the tiled floor with a thump, blinking. “You mean Fluttershy was the one who told you? I mean, wait, hang on.”

“This doesn’t make any sense,” the stallion said, his voice steadily rising as he folded his wings. “Why would she do that, Posey? Why would our daughter lie like this?”

“Stop it!” Dash snapped. “Don’t say—don’t, I—” she sputtered, grasping for any words to fill the gap. “Just shut up! Don’t say that about Fluttershy or I’ll—”

“Or you’ll what?” the stallion bristled. “Threaten me in my own home?”

“Quiet, both of you!” the mare called, glaring at her husband before her eyes settled on Dash. “This isn’t getting us anywhere. How about just start anew, okay?”

Dash shrugged and folded her forelegs. “Whatever. He doesn’t get to say those things.”

“Right,” the yellow mare agreed. “The big guy with the big mouth is Rising Star, and I am Posey. I’m sure you can understand why we are a little upset right now.”

“Oh, you’re upset,” Dash grumbled, but Posey silenced her with a look that was terrifyingly similar to something Fluttershy would show once in a blue moon.

“Yes. We are,” Posey said, patting the seat of the couch next to her. Dash ignored it. “We’re upset because we’ve just been told that something we’ve thought was true for many years was wrong.”

“Okay,” Dash allowed, sighing as she sat down on the cold tiled floor. “Fine. What did you think? Why?”

Rising Star snorted. “Fluttershy moved out, took wing on her own because she was going to be with you. You were apparently the greatest thing ever.”

For the first time in her life, Rainbow Dash wasn’t quite sure she wanted the words that, without the wrapping, would have been praise.

“We knew you were friends from the start, and we knew you were trouble for our daughter, but when she came back home one day with stars in her eyes saying she was going to Ponyville, what could we do?” he asked, sounding less angry and more tired by the minute. “She loved the ground. Animals and everything. I didn’t have to like you to understand it’s what she wanted.”

“I’m trouble, right,” Dash muttered. “There’s the problem.”

“Oh don’t you start again,” Rising Star growled.

Posey inched forwards to lean over the edge of the couch, an almost feline gesture, resting her head on her forelegs. “At first it was fine, but then she started visiting less and less. Letters became a rare thing, too, and I guess we blamed you. She loved her new calling, tending to the animals of all shapes and sizes, but there was one more thing she loved. She loved you, too.”

Rainbow Dash tilted her head back and stared up at the ceiling. There it was, plain as rain. She just had to figure out what to do with it.

“I just don’t see why she would lie to us,” Rising Star muttered.

“Then you’re stupid,” Dash replied, rolling her eyes. “Do you even know her?”

“She’s my daughter!” he snapped. “I know she’s a little reluctant, shy at times, yes, but we’re her parents!”

Dash shrugged at that and closed her eyes, shutting him out. She wanted to be angry with herself, to blame herself for never realizing during all these years, but if none of her friends had picked up on it either, Fluttershy had hid it well. She reached up to scratch her wing where the little bracelet rested. It itched.

It was easy to imagine Fluttershy wanting to say something, and then keeping it to herself instead because she didn’t want to be a bother. When things were truly important, she’d always come to Rainbow Dash with it at some point. Sometimes it was a little annoying, like when she kept worrying about whether or not Gilda was doing okay. Other times, Dash was glad to help. But what if something came up that she couldn’t speak to anypony about? Fluttershy had resigned herself to keep quiet about this for how long? Since they left flight school? Before?

The air tasted sour, now, and Rainbow Dash idly wondered how Fluttershy’s parents would react to her being sick in their living room. It didn’t look like she could sink much lower in their opinion anyway, and it was getting harder and harder to care. She glanced over at Posey, the world moving in a dreamlike haze. The older mare was giving her a worried frown and speaking her name.

“Rainbow Dash. Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Peachy,” Dash croaked. “Just tired, I guess.”

“I just wanted to ask you one more thing,” Posey said, clearing her throat. “I don’t expect you can answer, but I have to ask.”

Rainbow Dash licked her lips and glanced over her shoulder. Suddenly, she couldn’t be free fast enough, and the living room was oppressive. She nodded briskly. “Yeah. What?”

“We received a few letters from the Princess, and we’ve been in touch with some of Fluttershy’s other friends, and they’re all telling us to—to have faith. To hold on. It’s all very vague,” she trailed off.

“Tell us that they will find our daughter,” Rising Star finished for her, walking over to stand by the couch and draping a wing over his wife. Dash tried to find her voice once, twice, but faltered when faced with their hopeful and urgent gazes.

“They won’t,” Dash finally managed, drawing breath. “But I will. Later.”

Less than twenty seconds later, Rainbow Dash was airborne again and making for Ponyville. The landscape below hurtled by, and she swore she could see the stars move as she sped through the air. All she could think of was Fluttershy being scared and alone, a yellow pegasus lost and calling her name. It was a ridiculous thought. Fluttershy was probably with Applejack, and Dash knew her measure. Fluttershy herself was more than capable of handling anything the world threw at her, even if she didn’t know it, but it was still so very wrong.

Rainbow Dash was supposed to be there for her. That was just how it worked. How it was supposed to work, rather; only when they were separated did she realize how important it was. Even if she hadn’t always seen it, she was slowly coming to understand that Fluttershy had always been there for her, too.

It just wasn’t working. For three hours she’d tried to ensure she could make good on her boast, and she’d gotten exactly nowhere. When Celestia had asked her to perform a Sonic Rainboom, stupid Rainbow Dash had insisted she could pull it off just like that—going up, rather than down.

It was impossible, of course. Just like the Sonic Rainboom itself was impossible, a feat of legends. Rainbow Dash thrived on performing the impossible, of giggling madly as she did what others said she could not. She wasn’t giggling now. Right now, she was lazily drifting in circles over the Canterlot castle grounds, not quite aware of what she was looking for until she saw her.

“Hey, Fluttershy!” Dash called, breaking into a dive. When she alighted near the small garden gazebo, Fluttershy glanced over at her to smile before she turned back to the birds that lined the ornate wood railings of her little platform.

“I think we’ll take a little break, if that’s okay,” Fluttershy suggested dipping her head at all the assembled avians who dispersed no sooner than she’d finished her sentence. Birds big and small scattered throughout the royal gardens, leaving Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash alone.

“Hi, Rainbow Dash.”

“Hey,” Dash said, again. “You’re done with all your bird singing stuff and everything, right?” Dash asked, carefully avoiding her eyes. She feigned interest in some flower or other. A red one.

“Um, actually,” Fluttershy began, her smile fading a big as she rubbed a leg with the other.

“Because, I mean, if you’re free, you can watch me practice for the whole rainboom thing and everything,” Dash suggested, poking at the flower. She stole a quick glance at Fluttershy. Her friend bit her lower lip and hesitated.

“Oh. I would really like to run through the song a few more times is all,” Fluttershy said, her ears drooping.

Rainbow Dash nodded and shrugged. “Yeah, that’s fine,” she lied. “I don’t—”

“But of course I’d love to come watch,” Fluttershy added, her quiet voice silencing Dash more surely than any other other noise ever could. She spread her wings and smiled. “Where are you practicing?”

Rainbow Dash pumped her wings ever harder, a rainbow-trailed rocket thundering across the night sky.

Comments

[Cedric Bale]

♥

[Kapuchu]

I think I know where Fluttershy got her 'Stare' from...

And I actually feel bad for how Rainbow Dash is treated by her parents. She's done nothing wrong, they barely know her and she's blamed for everything... Doesn't seem fair

[mrmayortheiv]

1386636 How would you feel if your daughter left home and hardly ever visited or contacted you to be with someone you barely knew? And only then several years back once or twice...

[Fernesh]

“Tell us that they will find our daughter,” Rising Star finished for her, walking over to stand by the couch and draping a wing over his wife. Dash tried to find her voice once, twice, but faltered when faced with their hopeful and urgent gazes.

“They won’t,” Dash finally managed, drawing breath. “But I will. Later.”

LIKE A BOSS !
fc09.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2011/289/6/e/rainbow_dash___deal_with_it_by_maco25-d4d12u4.png