• Published 23rd Oct 2012
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Fire & Rain - Ruirik



Sometimes it takes the darkest moments of our lives to find the brightest

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And So It Goes

Several days after Celestia and Luna had left, Bifrost finally felt comfortable enough leaving Rainbow alone for a few hours with Spitfire. In addition to needing a shower and a decent meal—why all hospitals had terrible food, he would never understand—there was a particular piece of business he needed to personally handle. It was that professional responsibility that had taken him to the headquarters of the Manehattan Weather Team on that sunny morning.

Standing in front of the desk Bifrost had temporarily commandeered were the three senior weather ponies of Manehattan. They stood in silence, their posture rigid and their breath all but held while Bifrost read through a stack of papers in his hooves. Amongst the newspaper clippings and official reports was the one item of particular interest to him: The storm order.

Setting the papers down, Bifrost folded his hooves in front of his snout, his golden eyes coldly sizing up each of the three ponies. He knew all their names from digging around in the employee files: Headwind, senior cloud pusher, Flash Cloud, senior lightning wrangler, and Dewdrop, senior rain pony.

A thick bandage wrapped around Flash’s foreleg where the shrapnel of an exploding tree had torn up the limb. He kept his head down in deference to Bifrost’s rank and his own sense of shame. Dewdrop had a smaller bandage around her left foreleg; Bifrost understood from his interviews with less senior team members that she had received a decent electrical burn from the botched shipment. Lastly was Headwind, his head hung low and his ears drooping. Bifrost had also read his letter of resignation which had been at the top of the pile. Tempted as he was to let them sweat it out a little longer, he did want to get back to Rainbow sooner rather than later.

“So,” he began, resting his chin on his hooves, “you all know why you’re here, I suspect you know why I’m here, so let’s get straight to the point. This weather team has failed. It has failed catastrophically. Most importantly its failure has injured ponies and started a fire that caused significant damage to the areas surrounding the staging grounds.”

Headwind looked up, his shame laid bare in his expression. “It’s all my f—”

“Not a damned word,” Bifrost cut him off with a stern glare. “Now, all of you know who I am, and you know who my daughter is, so you can bet your asses that if this was up to me, you’d all be fired. However, you’re in luck, because I’ve had to recuse myself from this mess since it involves my daughter.”

The three dared to exchange worried glances while Bifrost retrieved a folded slip of paper from his saddlebag. He cleared his throat before his gaze returned to the three managers. “Until Manager Downburst returns, temporary management of the Manehattan team will be carried out by senior manager Flash Cloud.” Bifrost tossed the paper onto the desk, his eyes locking with Flash’s. “You are given full authority over the Manehattan Weather Office until such time as Downburst relieves you. Fire ponies, hire them, spend the next couple weeks sitting here with your head up your ass, I don’t care. Long story short: don’t screw it up.”

“Yes, Sir,” Flash said, keeping his face expressionless and his tone neutral.

Forcing himself to take a deep breath, Bifrost leaned back in his chair. “Any questions?”

Dewdrop was the first to step forward, her feathers subtly trembling with anxiety. “Is... is Rainbow alright?”

His expression softened, albeit very slightly. “She will be.”

“We’re so glad to hear that,” Dewdrop said with a relieved sigh, a smile forming on her lips. She hesitantly extended her left wing, a bundle of envelopes held together by a lavender twine tucked between her primary feathers. She offered the package to Bifrost, who regarded it with a mildly confused look.

“It... It’s not much,” she continued, “but everypony just wanted to let her know we were thinking of her.”

Bifrost stared at the innocuous envelopes, as the rational and irrational parts of his mind waged a vicious war. The analyst in him saw it for what it was: a heartfelt gesture from a demoralized, exhausted, and broken team of ponies. The father in him seethed with barely controlled rage. They had nearly killed his baby, and they had the temerity to think a few ‘get well soon’ cards would even come close to righting their wrongs?

Forcing himself to take a deep breath, Bifrost smiled and accepted the envelopes with a hoof. “Thank you. I know she’ll appreciate it.”

Headwind stepped forward, a folded sheet of paper in his wing which he offered to the rainbow-maned stallion. “Sir, if could offer my resignation—”

Bifrost held up a hoof to stop him. “I’ve already said, I’ve recused myself from this whole matter. I can’t accept your resignation, and to be perfectly honest, if I hadn’t recused myself I would’ve fired you this morning.”

“I wouldn’t blame you, sir,” Headwind said, a penitent frown on his lips.

“Anything else?”

Receiving a trio of quiet “no’s”, Bifrost tucked the pack of get-well cards into his saddlebag and moved towards the open window. He hesitated for a moment, casting one last look at the three managers in the room before he leapt out the window, wings spreading to catch the summer winds.

Flash let out the breath he’d been holding, a hoof rubbing his face. He walked towards the desk and turned to face his colleagues. “Well, all things considered, that coulda gone worse.”

“I guess,” Dewdrop mumbled.

Headwind sighed, looking to Flash. “I guess it’s up to you now, Flash.”

“Eh?” Flash looked over to his friend, confusion in his eyes.

Wordlessly, Headwind offered him his resignation. Without a second thought, Flash took it and promptly tore it in half, tossing both ends into the garbage bin beside the desk.

“What are you doing?!” Headwind balked. Even Dewdrop looked confused by the act.

“The only thing I can do right now,” he answered.

“I can’t—”

“I can’t fire you or let you quit right now, Headwind,” Flash said, cutting off the cloud pusher’s argument. “Let’s be honest with ourselves; we’re up shit creek and we basically threw the paddles overboard. The team is in shambles, my lightning team is crippled, over twenty ponies are still in the hospital, and none of the deputies have the experience that you do!”

“And it’s my fault we’re in this mess now!” Headwind argued. “You can’t bury your head in the sand and just pretend it’ll go away!”

“I can do a lot when I put my mind to it.”

“Flash has a point,” Dewdrop said, stepping up to the stallions. “Headwind, you’ve got easily ten years more experience than any of the other cloud pushers; we need you to keep everything running. Especially with so many ponies out on medical leave.”

“But—”

“If you want a way to clear your conscience a bit,” Flash began, looking to the window to ensure Bifrost wasn’t hovering around, “Rainbow should’ve been there to fill out the order, or at least confirm it when you wrote it out.”

“You’re not seriously trying to pin this on her, are you?” Dewdrop asked, looking somewhat horrified by the implication.

“No-no-no!” Flash quickly corrected himself. “It’s as much my fault for having her with me the whole time for the training program.”

“You couldn’t have controlled that many ponies on your own,” Headwind noted dryly.

“Maybe, maybe not, but that’s speculative.”

“This whole conversation is speculative,” Dewdrop said, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Anyway,” Flash continued, “until Downburst gets back and the team is back to a normal operating strength, I don’t wanna hear another word about this, okay?”

Headwind shook his head; he couldn’t help feeling disgusted by the entire mess that had engulfed them. “Fine then. What’s next?”

Flash searched the desk for a moment before he found the weather schedule and water distribution charts. Laying them out on the floor between them, he took a breath and came up with a plan.

“Alright, here’s the deal: without the storm rains all the agricultural areas in and around the city are critically behind on their water schedules. Dewdrop, how many rainclouds do we have in staging?”

Dewdrop thought for a moment. “I haven't had a chance to get a full inventory, but I’m pretty sure we can get adequate coverage to the farms. If I avoid the city parks, we can stretch that even more.”

“Does that include our reserve supply?” Flash asked.

“The reserve supplies aren’t included in general inventory,” Headwind said, a hoof thoughtfully rubbing his chin. “Those clouds are saved for city emergencies such as fires or droughts.”

“Alright then, those are off limits for the time being,” Flash sighed.

“If we mix the rain clouds in with common clouds, we can get a little extra mileage from what we’ve got,” Dewdrop offered.

“We still have a full stock of common clouds,” Headwind added. “They’re a lower moisture content, but there’s some water we can get out of them if we’re careful.”

“Okay, it’s not perfect, but its a start.” Flash allowed himself a hopeful smile. “We can do this, guys. We can get through this, together.”

“You really suck at motivational speeches, Flash,” Headwind stated flatly.

Flash shrugged and smirked. “What can I say, usually my stunning good looks are enough.”

Dewdrop groaned, slapping her forehead with a hoof.


If there was one thing Rainbow Dash hated—truly hated—it was the feeling of being useless. Perhaps that was why, she mused, the fates had cursed her to lay in an uncomfortable hospital bed, with nothing to do, and even less to distract her. It was enough to drive her to madness, even with the long naps she generally took when she got pain medicine. Granted, after how the conversation had gone with Celestia, Luna, and her dad, Rainbow had become much more amiable to the drug naps.

Still, perhaps the only silver lining to her situation was the time it allowed her to spend with her dad and Spitfire. Since she had first been placed in the Ponyville Weather Office, there hadn’t been much time for her to get back home more than once or twice a year. While she had made many dear friends in Ponyville, and she had Fluttershy, who was the closest thing she had to a sister, it never substituted for being able to see her dad again.

Spitfire, on the other hoof, was doing her absolute best to test the limits of Rainbow’s drug-assisted patience.

“Here comes the choo-choo train,” Spitfire sang, moving the spoon back and forth in front of Rainbow’s snout. “Choo choo, open wide!”

Rainbow glared at Spitfire, thoroughly unamused by the act.

“What?” Spitfire asked, a knowing grin on her lips. “Nothing? Not even a little teensy-weensy smirk?”

Several pokes of the jello filled spoon against Rainbow’s mouth only served to deepen the weather mare’s frown.

“Come on, Dash, you gotta eat something!” Spitfire implored her stubborn marefriend.

“I don’t need to be baby fed jello!” Rainbow groused. “And jello’s kinda gross anyway...”

Spitfire dramatically threw a hoof over her heart, reeling backward as though stricken. “But… Rainbow, jello is the food of the gods!”

“You said it was pizza two weeks ago.”

“The gods changed their minds.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Rainbow, eat the damn jello.”

“Can’t make me.”

“The hell I can’t.”

Rainbow folded her forelegs across her chest, biting her tongue to avoid cringing too visibly from the act. The painkillers in her system dulled the ache enough that she could hold the position for a few minutes at least. Spitfire rolled her eyes and poked Rainbow’s mouth with the spoon.

“Look, Dash, the food’s going in your face one way or another.”

Rainbow kept her mouth shut tight and gave Spitfire a defiant glare.

In return, Spitfire gave Rainbow a sweet smile that beguiled nothing less than evil intentions. “You sure you wanna play this game, Dash?”

The sky-blue mare remained resolute in her defiance.

“You know I’ll win.”

Rainbow refused to dignify that assertion with a response, though she couldn’t help a dramatic rolling of her eyes.

“You know I could bribe a dentist to come in here and pry your mouth open.”

Rainbow didn’t seem to buy the suggestion.

“Don’t look at me with that tone of voice.”

Rainbow bit her tongue, refusing to give her enemy the satisfaction of a giggle.

“Come on, Dash.” Spitfire leaned an elbow on the bed, the spoon mere inches from Rainbow’s mouth. “You know you want it.”

Rainbow answered with a vigorous shake of her head.

Spitfire leaned closer, her nose almost bumping Rainbow’s. “Eat it and I’ll give you a kiss.”

“Oh that is so ch—” Rainbow failed to notice the readied spoon until Spitfire had stuffed it into her open maw. The glare on Rainbow’s face was almost enough to light a pony on fire. Almost. Spitfire gently kissed Rainbows forehead and patted her mane with her free hoof.

“There, was that so bad?” Spitfire asked, keeping the spoon right where it was until Rainbow swallowed.

“Not. Cool.” Rainbow growled.

The Wonderbolt smiled, the back of her hoof stroking Rainbow’s cheek. “Oh, you poor thing. Let me make it all better.”

Spitfire moved forward, her lips gently kissing Rainbows. She did her best not to grin when the weather mare gasped. Resting her free hoof on Rainbow’s cheek, she closed her eyes and lost herself in the moment. It had been less than a week since the accident, yet it felt like an eternity since they had shared a moment of intimacy.

She still recalled every moment of that morning: the smell of Rainbow’s mane in her nose, the warmth of her body held safe in her hooves. She thought of Rainbow’s happy singing from the shower, the lilt of her laughter, and the gentle, appreciative moans from Spitfire’s preening, it was a moment in time that Spitfire cherished.

It was at that time Bifrost returned, trotting through the door without so much as a knock.

“Hey, Dash. How are—Whoa!” Bifrost yelped, wings flaring in surprise as he instantly skidded to a halt.

Spitfire leapt away from Rainbow too quickly, almost immediately tumbling out of her chair and onto the floor. While she avoided landing landing on her injured wing, the sudden stop still sent crushing waves of agony through her body. Spitfire, however, was a proud and classy mare. At least, that’s what she told herself as a stream of exceptionally... colorful expletives flew out of her mouth.

At least Bifrost looked impressed.

For the second time that week, Rainbow seriously considered the merits of taking a long walk off a short rooftop. Her face burned, the blue coat turning a lovely shade of red and her heart racing in her chest. Leave it to her dad to show up the only time she needed a bit of privacy.

Moving around the bed, Bifrost helped Spitfire back into the seat. “Are you alright?”

“I’m good; my pride took the brunt of the fall.”

Bifrost sighed, genuinely relieved he wouldn’t need to call a nurse. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. The act didn’t go unnoticed by either mare. Spitfire couldn’t shake the peculiar feeling she was about to seriously regret getting out of her room that morning.

“So, Spitfire,” Bifrost began, wrapping a hoof around her shoulders to cut off any means of escape.

“Y-yes, Sir?” Spitfire forced a very awkward smile.

“What exactly were your intentions with my daughter just now?”

“Dad—”

“Not now, baby. Daddy’s working.”

Rainbow groaned, pulling the pillow out from behind her head and pressing it over her face.

“Coward...” Spitfire mumbled.

“Well?” Bifrost asked again, staring Spitfire down expectantly.

“Nothing, nothing at all! Just, you know, trying to get her to eat!” Spitfire answered.

“Eat what, your tongue?”

Spitfire’s cheeks burned, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. She slowly pointed a hoof at the jello cup sitting on the night stand. “Th...er... j-jello?”

“Uh-huh, sure it—ACK!” Bifrost yelped when a well aimed pillow collided with his face.

“Seriously, dad?!” Rainbow grunted, hoping she didn’t pop one of her stitches from the toss.

“What?” he asked, tossing the pillow back to her. “I’m just having a little fun!”

“Have it somewhere else!”

“I’ll have you know I’m contractually obligated to torment your dates.”

“You’re...no... what?!” Rainbow balked.

Spitfire put her face in her hooves. Flashbacks of her father doing the exact same things ran through her head. Once again she resolved that Bifrost could never meet her parents. It would be an unholy alliance the likes of which Equestria had never seen before.

“Buuut, seeing as you’re on the mend and I haven’t seen you in a while, I guess I can let her off easy for now,” Bifrost drawled, releasing Spitfire from his grip and sauntering to the opposite side of the bed.

Spitfire let out a relieved sigh, leaning forward until her forehead hit the mattress.

“But you keep your hooves where I can see ‘em, young lady,” Bifrost ordered, pointing an accusing hoof at Spitfire.

Both Spitfire and Rainbow died a little inside.

“How’d your meeting go?” Rainbow asked, desperate for any escape from the previous conversation.

Leaning back in his seat, Bifrost sighed. “It went fine, Dash.”

“You didn’t fire anypony, did you?”

Bifrost shook his head. “I promised you I wouldn’t, and I didn’t.”

“Thanks, dad.”

Sighing, the stallion gave a small nod of his head. “Anything for you, kiddo.”

“So,” Rainbow began after a few moments of awkward silence between the three. “How’s everything in Cloudsdale?”

“Pretty much the same as it always is,” Bifrost answered, stretching his back out a bit. “Lots of construction though.”

“Still?” Spitfire asked, genuinely surprised. “I thought they were just about done replacing the old cloudstone months ago.”

“They finished the repairs to the old supports, but then they started tearing up Feathertop Borough to prepare for new construction.”

“About time they got around to that place,” Rainbow mumbled, “Feathertop’s been a dump since I was a filly.”

Bifrost snorted, “Rainbow, Feathertop was a dump when I was a colt.”

“In fairness, it is an industrial district,” Spitfire observed.

“True enough.” He nodded. “How about Ponyville? Everything there still as interesting as ever?”

“Everything’s been pretty quiet for a while now, actually... it’s really boring,” she answered with a soft pout.

Bifrost and Spitfire chuckled quietly.

“Oh, I forgot to ask with the Princesses showing up and everything, but how’s your wing?” Rainbow asked her marefriend, the concern plain on her face.

“It’s fine, Dash,” Spitfire lied, “just a small strain.”

“Small strains don’t need a cast like that,” Rainbow said, not buying the excuse for a second.

“It’s fine, really.”

Bifrost rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Tell her the truth, Spitfire.”

“Dad?” Rainbow looked at Bifrost, her face awash with confusion.

Spitfire seemed equally flummoxed as Rainbow. “Wha—”

“I talked to your brother the other day when you went upstairs to get your pain meds.”

‘Note to self; kill Rapid.’ Spitfire thought.

“Talked about what?” Rainbow demanded, cringing from another attempt to sit up.

Spitfire couldn’t bear to look Rainbow in the eye, “Dash... remember when we first met, I told you that I messed up my wing?”

“You tore the bicep. We did gliding exercises together last week...”

Spitfire nodded once, her teeth lightly biting down on her cheek. She didn’t want to say more, she didn’t want Rainbow to think it was her fault. She didn’t want to put that kind of emotional stress on her marefriend. “When... well...” she sighed, a hoof rubbing her brow. “Do you remember how you got to the hospital?”

Rainbow shook her head. “No. I.., I was talking to Fleetfoot, then I woke up here.”

Reaching out with a hoof, Bifrost touched Rainbow’s shoulder. “Spitfire carried you here, Dash.”

Quiet settled between them for a moment, Rainbow’s mind processing the implications of her father’s words. Her eyes widened, the realization making itself clear to her. Her lips mouthed a silent ‘no’ as she looked to Spitfire.

“I—”

“Rainbow,” Spitfire quickly interrupted the younger mare, her hoof gently cupping Rainbow’s cheek. “I’ll be alright, it’s not your fault, and I’m gonna get better, okay?”

“But if… if I hadn’t—”

“Rainbow, it’s okay, really.” Spitfire forced a positive smile, her hoof stroking Rainbow’s cheek. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat, and I will get through this. I promise.”

Rainbow wanted to argue, wanted to assert her culpability. It wasn’t right, and she did blame herself for it. Before she could say anything though, a gentle knock on the door distract them.

“Come in,” Bifrost called.

Expecting the knock to be that of a nurse or doctor making their standard rounds, all three were surprised to see Rapidfire step into the room. He looked around a moment before his eyes came to rest on Spitfire.

“Aha, found ya!”

“Rapid, what’s up?” Spitfire eyed her brother, contemplating the best ways to claim vengence.

“They’re looking for you upstairs; they’ve got your discharge papers all set so you can go home.”

Rainbow’s hoof shot to Spitfire’s. “You gotta bust me outta here!”

“Yeah, no,” Bifrost answered, folding his hooves across his chest.

Spitfire looked to Rainbow with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Dash, this one I can’t help you out of.”

“You’ll still be around to visit, right?”

“With parental supervision,” Bifrost muttered.

Deciding to press her luck, Spitfire leaned down and kissed Rainbow on the cheek. “Your dad’ll need to work harder than that to scare me off.”

“That could be arranged.” Bifrost grinned, his comment earning a potent glare from his daughter.

Spitfire ignored the comment. “I’ll be back later tonight or first thing tomorrow, okay?”

“Promise?”

“Cross my heart,” Spitfire answered, her hoof swiping over her chest.

It took a fair amount of effort, but Rainbow managed to wrap her forelegs around Spitfire in a loose hug. Spitfire did her best to return the embrace, ever mindful of Rainbow’s more extensive injuries. They did their best to pretend they had the room to themselves, a point made easier as Bifrost and Rapid remained fairly discreet.

“I don’t wanna let go,” Rainbow whispered.

Spitfire nuzzled her cheek against Rainbows. “Good, cause I don’t want you to.”

Rainbow kept her forelegs wrapped around Spitfire as long as her body would tolerate. Spitfire lightly kissed Rainbow’s cheek, closing her eyes and savoring the closeness while she could. When she felt Rainbow’s forelegs begin to tremble she pulled away, making sure the weather mare saw her smiling warmly.

“I’ll see you in a little bit, okay?”

“Kay,” Rainbow answered, “I’ll be here.”

Following her brother out of the room, Spitfire sighed as the door closed behind her. Rapid gave her a light hug with a wing, ushering her towards the elevator. She noticed Rapid was eying her anxiously the entire way, though he didn’t speak up, at least until they were both alone in the elevator.

“How’s the wing?”

“The pills they give me help, but it still hurts like hell.”

“Sorry.”

She shrugged. “I’ll be alright.”

“So, um… about Fleetfoot...” Rapid began.

“Dash told me what happened,” Spitfire interrupted, earning a surprised look from Rapid.

“What’d she say?”

“She blames herself for what happened.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I’ll tell you about it later.”

Rapidfire nodded, his hoof pawing at the floor for a moment. “Wanna get dinner? I’ll buy.”

Spitfire smiled; she couldn’t remember the last time they had gone out for a bite and an honest chat. “Sounds good to me.”


Eyes, black as pitch and trimmed with golden brown watched the quiet room. They never blinked, never moved, never twitched, and never judged. Fleetfoot stared into her teddy bear’s eyes, her own reflection staring right back at her. With a heavy sigh, she closed her eyes and let her forehead rest against the matted fur.

The sun was setting over Manehattan. Orange beams of light filtered through the windows of Fleetfoot’s apartment, drifting further upwards as day yielded to night. Looking over her shoulder, she eyed the dufflebag laying open on the floor, stuffed with a few small necessities she had worked up the motivation to pack. She didn’t plan to leave for a few more days; not before she had managed to eat the perishable items in her fridge.

A knock on the door startled her. Her heart skipped a beat. Not for the first time, she wondered if the Guard had been ordered to take her in. Despite repeated assurances from Arcus and the two unicorns he had been with earlier in the week, she couldn’t stop herself from panicking about it. With an anxious gulp, she moved to the door and pulled it open, her posture tensed.

Spitfire stood just across the threshold, her crippled wing held securely in a black sling. Rapidfire stood just behind her, his expression cautious. Spitfire looked to Fleetfoot, a torrent of thoughts and emotions roiling in the amber orbs.

“May I come in?” she asked quietly.

“What for?” Fleetfoot asked, not keen on getting punched again.

“I just wanna talk, Fleet.”

“You just wanted to talk last time too.”

Spitfire sighed, her posture sinking. When she finally spoke her voice was barely more than a whisper. “I know… and I’m sorry.”

Confusion spread across Fleetfoot’s face. “What?”

“I’m sorry about what happened last time I was here. I’m sorry I lost my temper, I’m sorry I hit you, and… and I’m sorry I hurt you.”

Fleetfoot considered Spitfire’s words for a time, her eyes shifting from her to Rapid. He gave her a pleading look, silently begging her to give them a chance. Letting out a breath, Fleetfoot shook her head. Being a Wonderbolt meant trusting your life to your wingpony’s hooves, and while Fleetfoot wasn’t a Wonderbolt anymore, there were some things she wouldn’t turn in with her uniform. Fleetfoot stepped aside, pulling the door open in a tentative display of trust.

“You guys want some coffee?” she asked.

“No, thanks.”

“I’m good.”

Fleetfoot closed the door behind them, hoping she made the right choice. Spitfire and Rapid both noticed the clutter of the usually immaculate apartment in addition to the half packed duffel bag. The twins shared a look before turning their attentions back to Fleetfoot.

“Going on a trip?” Spitfire asked.

“...Yeah.”

“Where?” Rapid asked, a frown on his lips.

“Anywhere but here,” she answered. “Maybe look for a new job.”

Spitfire took a cautious step towards Fleetfoot. “Fleet, I think you should reconsider your resig—”

“It’s already done,” Fleetfoot snapped, “I gave Arcus my resignation days ago! Hell, I nearly killed somepony! I can’t—”

“I can talk to Arcus,” Spitfire interrupted, “you can take this year on the benched roster and come back after that.”

“Why? What is the Celestia-damned point when I’m the one who nearly killed an Element of Harmony?!”

“Fleetfoot, Rainbow doesn’t blame you for what happened,” Spitfire explained.

Fleetfoot seemed stunned by the revelation. “What?”

Spitfire nodded, taking a step towards her estranged friend. “I was there, Celestia and Luna showed up personally to find out what happened. Rainbow said it was her fault.”

“...Bullshit…” Fleetfoot muttered, utterly baffled by the information.

“It’s true, I swear,” Spitfire pressed a hoof to her chest.

Shaking her head, Fleetfoot sat down, her back against the door. “Why wouldn’t she? I mean.. it… it makes no sense...”

“Fleet...” Spitfire sat beside her teammate, “I was standing in the room while Rainbow told Celestia herself what happened. She stuck up for you and begged them not to blame you for what happened.”

Fleetfoot shook her head, tears staining her cheeks.

“Soarin’ and I will be leading the team now,” Rapid cut in, sitting on the other side of Fleetfoot. “We’d like you to stay around too.”

“Soarin’ hates me.”

“Oh please.” Spitfire rolled her eyes. “The oversized marshmallow couldn’t hate anything if he tried.”

“You drive him crazy, but he respects you,” Rapid added.

Fleetfoot wiped her eyes, and took a deep breath. “I need to think about this.”

“We’ll make sure Arcus holds your resignation until you’re ready,” Rapid promised.

Fleetfoot nodded.

“So,” Spitfire began, biting at her lip uncomfortably, “are we good?”

Fleetfoot cast a sideways glance to Spitfire. Lifting her left hoof, she gave Spitfire’s shoulder a hard smack. Spitfire yelped, more in surprise than pain.

“I deserved that,” Spitfire mumbled after regaining her composure, a hoof rubbing the sore patch of flesh.

“Now we’re good.” Fleetfoot answered.