Provided one has enough finches, and wants to wake up at dawn, one does not need an alarm clock. Generally, this was Fluttershy’s first thought each morning.
Such a rhythm of life does not work well when dark clouds cover the sky.
Darkness blanketed Fluttershy’s room as she stirred, her dark yellow coat and wings washed in the rain she had soaked her bed with the night before. She opened her eyes, remembered everything that had happened, and tried to resume crying from where her tears gave out the night before.
Angel woke to this, having slept very lightly to wait for Fluttershy to stir. He tried to comfort her, watching her shake in the hopes of mourning her pain away.
Nothing came. No tears, no wails, not even a whimper. In her heart, she had prepared for this day, and despite the pain of it all happening the last night, there would be no more crying for Fluttershy.
Angel nuzzled comfortingly despite the pegasus’s inability to cry. “It’s okay, Angel,” she reassured her faithful nurse. “I’m not crying anymore, and you can’t fight the tears that ain’t comin’.” She winked halfheartedly at the rabbit and rose to start her day.
Fluttershy spent a good deal of time in her shower. She maintained a few clean clouds for rainy days. She contemplated the oddity of wanting to take a long shower after being drenched, but it worked to make her feel marginally better. She let the clean water of the shower wash over her, and smiled softly as she hung her head. She spent a great deal of time against a brushing post, having no unicorn magic to manipulate a hairbrush, and no digits to grasp such an object as it was designed for. On this day, though, the brushing was slower, and took even longer than normal. When she finally walked down the stairs, she looked about. Angel was doing what he could to get a few of the animals fed, but smiled halfheartedly at the pegasus built to do the heavy lifting.
“That’s right, Angel, I’m here to help. There is nothing in the world I love more than helping these animals. It fills me with happiness and-” Angel gave her a look, sympathetic, but clearly conveying that he would be disappointed if this was the way his friend was to deal with her pain. “I’m sorry, Angel. I guess I have to deal with this. I guess you can’t fight the tears that ain’t comin’ or the moment the truth in you lies.”
With that, they started a day as natural as they could make it. Fluttershy finished feeding the animals, and went to check the overnight patients. Having taken a slow day, they were already stirring, so Fluttershy took the time to talk to each of them and find how they had slept. The patients happily noted her seemingly new concern, having brushed off her quick pace as not being a morning pony, and lifted her with their appreciation of waking to the same famous care as they would receive in the afternoons.
With that, Angel prodded Fluttershy into the kitchen. There, they sat down to a full breakfast. Fluttershy tried eating, slowly at first, her body grateful for the fuel after a long, traumatic evening. As her body recovered, though, it only made her feel worse about her situation. How dare her body feel relief when her soul was in misery? She slouched backwards and began to cry again.
Angel cocked his head, an expression of sorrow on his face. Fluttershy sobbed, “How can I go on, Angel? Is this even real? It’s all like a terrible nightmare, or a horrifying movie, and what do you do when everything feels like the movies?” Angel, even if he could respond, did not know what he would say. Instead, he came around the table and took Fluttershy’s hoof, and nuzzled her arm. Fluttershy did not react; her tears would not be stopped anytime soon. Eventually, she leaned forward to finish breakfast, and Angel went back to his.
When the meal was done, Angel retired to the kitchen to wash up. Fluttershy took a few of her dishes to the sink, and, setting them down, lingered a while in the kitchen. Angel, concentrating on work, thought nothing of it; she was doing everything slow today. The rain continued to fall. Angel finished his cleaning, and began to put the dishes away. As he did so, he noticed a knife missing from the knife block. A moment passed as he considered this, then he was suddenly overwhelmed by the worst-case scenario of why a knife would be missing in the kitchen of a devastatingly depressed pegasus. Frightened, he rushed out of the kitchen to find Fluttershy on the couch, knife in mouth, slicing into the back of her forearm’s cannon. Angel rushed forward – his knowledge of medicine reminded him that she was not getting near to any major veins – and tried to get Fluttershy to put back the knife.
The yellow pegasus was barely bleeding, thankfully. She had cut deep enough that it would most likely leave a scar. A surgeon’s control and knowledge guided her as she finished the last cut and volunteered the knife to Angel, who hopped to her arm to examine closely. There, in shallow cuts, rough yet recognizable as Fluttershy’s mouthwriting, was a name:
RAINBOW DASH
She had written backwards from the bottom, and must have realized that her time was short before Angel would intervene: the “ASH” bled slowly and would be recognizable for years, the nursing bunny conjectured, while the rest was just noticeably cut into the skin. Angel carefully took the knife out of Fluttershy’s reach, then slapped her across the face and gave her a disappointed look.
“I… I’m sorry Angel,” Fluttershy cried. “I… I just… I hurt so much… so much on the inside… I just wanted a physical pain… something I knew would go away… I just feel dead… and I wanted to feel… just to feel… anything…” She buried her head in her wounded arm. “When you feel so empty… you bleed just… to know you’re alive.”
Angel didn’t know what to say or do. The best thing he could think of, though was to have Fluttershy get help. So he bounced over to the wall and pointed up at a picture of Twilight Sparkle.
“I guess you’re right, Angel. Twilight Sparkle is desperately alone, but she doesn’t cut herself. I mean… as far as we know. She is a good role model for living with unfulfilled love. I mean, how could her love be returned by an immort-”
Angel cut her off with a well-placed carrot toss across the nose. He then point squarely at Fluttershy and then pointed to a picture of the Books and Branches Library.
“Alright! I admit it! I want to be a tree so I carved the name of the mare I love into myself! That’s where I got the idea. How does it help-”
Another carrot. This time, Angel pantomimed Fluttershy’s walk between pointing to Fluttershy and pointing to the library, then pointed again at Twilight Sparkle and said a few words in Bunny.
“Oh no! I could never tell Twilight… what would she think of me? I couldn’t risk losing another friend.”
Angel hopped in front of the pegasus, and, instead of his usual bombardment, gave her a sad, pleading stare.
“Oh… alright. I’ll head over if it will make you happy. But I won’t promise I’ll tell her. Maybe just talking with someone else will clear my mind.”
Angel sighed in relief. He watched Fluttershy carefully as she put herself into a warm raincoat and checked to make sure her cuts were concealed by its sleeve.
“Ok, I’m going… are you sure you’ll be alright?”
Angel nodded.
“Ok… maybe… should I do the evening feeding first?”
Angel shook his head and pointed out the door.
“Oh… ok. Right. I’ll get going.” She left.
Knowing her well, Angel locked the door. Sure enough, there was a thump as Fluttershy tried to reenter the house.
Muffled by the door, Fluttershy sighed one last “Oh… ok.”
Angel watched her head down the path towards Ponyville as long as he could. From her trot and her countenance, he seemed assured that the pegasus would continue to her destination. He sighed and looked about the cottage, holding the feeling in his heart that he did the right thing for strength to go about his and Fluttershy’s chores for the evening.