//------------------------------// // Act II: Chapter Six // Story: Sparkyll and Hyde // by Dragon Spire //------------------------------// Act II: Chapter Six ...Before It's Time To Say Adieu, World The task that Twilight had set Cadence and Applejack out to do was nearly complete. Cadence had been directed to the room where Soarin was staying by a kindly young mare who had perked up upon the mention of the doctor. "He'll be elated to finally hear from her again," was what she'd said before excusing herself to a suitcase overflowed with all the things one could expect belonged to a spinster, and muttered as she worked, about someone called "Night Glider" running off without saying goodbye. Blame couldn't be given so freely for the state of things. Tables had been stripped of the silk cloths covering them and shoved to the sides, opening up what used to be the dining hall, and the cushions, without haunches to rest on, had all but a few been put back into storage, the last being passed out to prop up heads instead. Top that with the dimness of dust-covered chandeliers and the waft of bodies pressed together over several days, and then flood the place, and it would be easy to convince even the cheeriest spirit that they had entered the belly of Monstro. Those who stayed inside the cadaverous building, as guests who couldn't make it home before curfew or as employees, were either hunkering down and hugging their pillows, or packing their things to make an escape attempt, though the latter group had shriveled from the princess as soon as she came near. They were fools. All of them. No runaway would make it past the train doors with thirty guards of both fleets itching to take down the killer, leaving Cadence without need or want to stop them. And, though clandestine in knowing it, there was no point in escaping, if what Twilight promised was any indication and she contained Nightfall by the next morning. The princess sighed, raising a hoof to knock on Soarin's bedroom door. Three knocks resounded against the white birch. Though Twilight had sent her and Applejack out to deliver her message, Cadence was alone tonight. Applejack was already bound on the train to Ponyville by the princess' bidding, and would be home with her family by three A.M. What she did come the next morning when sleep and everything they'd seen had processed was entirely up to her; the only thing that mattered right now was making it through the night. As for Cadence herself, she dreaded her return to the Crystal Empire in which she'd face Shining Armor and the endless questions about his sister's well-being. None of them could be answered without breaking her promise to Twilight. She would dangle on a moral tightrope with either side contrived of lies - lying to her husband, or lying to her sister-in-law of that said promise. It was horrifying for her to admit, but the morning, in which Twilight vowed to turn herself in and explain everything, could not come soon enough if only to keep from deceiving either pony. It occurred to Cadence that there was no answer to her knocking, so she gave another rap. With yet still no answer given, she was about to splinter the wood with another rapid barrage. "There's no use knocking for somepony who isn't there to answer." Cadence turned to whoever spoke. Standing with his wings tucked tightly against his sides was Soarin himself. He looked tired, as though having gone three days without sleep. Then again, was that not the case for everyone these days? "There you are," she said. "I need to speak with you at once." The stallion moved up to her. "Pretty much all the performers freaked out and quit on us when this lockdown started. Now it's just me and Dusty and Night... though maybe it will be just me, if what Dusty told me is true," he finished, a solemn note joining the last syllable. "What'cha need me for? Am I in trouble?" "No, no. I'm not here on official business," Cadence assured him. He smelled of blood and sweat, both dried into hair. "Are you injured?" "Mm, you could say," he groaned. He lifted a wing, showing off the right side of his ribs. An ugly red line was cut into the cage, but it looked shallow enough that it wasn't fatal. "I, uh, said something dumb, and this mare took it the wrong way." "I see... do you require help?" Cadence moved around him to inspect the wound further, lifting one of his wings, but Soarin yanked it back with a quiet snort. "That would be great. It's... kinda hard to stick bandages on. No horn and all." He led her into the room, darting across to tug a cord that opened the curtains. A long rectangle laid itself out on the floor and gave enough light to make out the room's corners, as well as the eleven other beds that gathered dust and the one Soarin went straight to. From under it, he pulled out a steel box that was turning brown at the edges. It wasn't until it squealed and split in half that she realized it was a lunchbox. A Wonderbolts' branded one on a closer look. "If you could just slap it on for me, that would be more than enough help," Soarin said, bringing the box over to show a full stack of freshly wrapped bandages, as well as some tubes of assorted medicines. "It would be wiser to disinfect the wound first, I believe," Cadence advised him. He thought about this, and then answered with a shrug, "I took a clean bath." Cadence hesitated...and gave her own shrug. "Alright. I suppose that works." She levitated the one of the bandages and tore open the wrapping, then summoning an aura around a tube of antibiotic ointment. "So why are you here, Princess?" Soarin asked while she worked. "If I'm not in trouble, I mean. I know you aren't here for a show, obviously with us being shut down. Actually, I don't think I've ever seen you here until now." "No, not ever." If she angled her head just right, she could see the stage and curtains shrouded above it. Like someone so closed off that they rejected anyone's help or comfort. "We were considering to reserve a show. My husband and I, but ruling an empire hardly grants any vacation days, and by the time the killings started..." "Yeah, I hear you. And it's a shame. "Horrible as the worker reception was, even I admit this place was damn amazing." Cadence silently admitted that she could appreciate a subject capable of discarding the formalities akin to keeping a clean tongue and bowing every five seconds while in her presence. It saved time, patience, and possibly lives. "And to answer your question, I came on the behalf of my sister-in-law, Twilight Sparkle." It was fortunate that she'd just laid the bandage firmly against his side, for he jerked back. "Doctor Sparkle? Is she alright? What did she say about-" Cadence gently tugged him back to smooth out whatever air bubbles were still in the bandage straps. "Let me explain myself first. Questions can wait." Unfolding her wing, she passed off to him the package of ribbon and paper that held the written, beseeching words. "My sister-in-law had asked me to bring this to you at once, as well as the request that you leave Canterlot with that same haste." Any of his collective nature that once existed fell into shambles. "But, the lockdown... and the guards..." He messed with the seal and managed to tear it off, the smaller sheet that was Twilight's "official" city pass swirling out and around his head before it settled at his hooves. He read the few scribbles of wording, and then looked up to Cadence, mumbling. "I...I don't understand. A one-way pass?" "May I?" Cadence asked, nudging a wing at the scroll. He obliged without protest, though Cadence sensed this was out of numb bewilderment rather than obedience; her heart was enclosed by a cold chain, each link forged by seeing such an expression on her crystal pony subjects in recent days. With a swift motion, she unfurled the letter and held it before her eyes with her magic. The blue aura helped her see the words better, but it didn't say much for how splotchy they had been written by two untrained and hasty hooves. But patiently she skimmed over the words, and read them aloud in a steady voice. "Soarin, I'm writing to warn you that you must leave Canterlot. I can't explain why you have to leave at once, or how I know of the danger that you're in, but I beg of you to trust in me and what I'm to say. I've enclosed to you a pass that will utilize my authority as Celestia's student and the Bearer of the Element of Magic, allowing you to leave the city without any trouble from boarder patrols, and a chance to get away from Nightfall Hyde." Curiosity won out, and Cadence looked over; Soarin had turned stark pale. His throat narrowed in what she thought was a dry swallow, the very culpability that Twilight herself had upon being discovered emulating in the slight, airy sound following the motion. She kept reading. "I can't even begin to say how sorry I am for doing this to you; I fear this letter will be the last connection we will have with each other, as I will not be able to see you again. Please don't question why. I can't provide the answers you want. I can't provide anything except what's enclosed, and my gratitude for the lesson you had taught me. "All I can ask of you now is to leave Canterlot behind and start a new life. Embrace who you truly are, not what others see you as or want you to be, and keep in your heart the knowing that the memory of being your friend has comforted me in the last month of my life, and will forever be kept deep in mine. "Your repentant friend, Twilight Sparkle." Cadence let the letter fall with a rustle and a whistle. It was clear, more than ever, that the stakes depended greatly on whether or not Twilight would subdue Nightfall for good, and this was not the first time that Cadence reconsidered keeping what she knew from her aunts. The very walk here had been a battle, after Applejack had voiced her own concerns; she had more than once tripped herself by letting her left hooves move to the castle, and the right hooves, to the Altrotta. The promise she had made to Twilight wouldn't matter if she got hurt regardless of the outcome; if Cadence caved and told Celestia the truth, her aunt would, without a doubt, order for her arrest while Twilight's internal fight was still under way. Betrayal, the slightest spark, would be all it took. She would lose, and Nightfall would be free, if her claim that her emotions played a part in the transformations was true. But if she waited, just as she was asked, turning herself in and awaiting death row were all her sister-in-law had left. It did not escape Cadence that Twilight hadn't written, "the last month of my life" to be synonymous with, "previous". And from the look on Soarin's face, he had come to a similar, if not much lesser, conclusion. "I..." he started slowly, "I'm sorry, but Doctor Sparkle doesn't owe me anything. She'd already saved me." He snatched the letter, skimming over for himself. "Is she in some kind of danger? Why can't we ever meet again?" The draftiness of the building left a cold sweat on her nape. "Twilight...my sister-in-law has become ill in recent days," she decided on. "I had just come from her study with her letter, and she was so weak she could barely stand." Lies didn't taste well on the tongue, and hers were bitter as envelope glue. "What kind of ill, though?" he pushed on. "It couldn't be contagious, right?" But he stopped Cadence before she could contrive an answer. "She could barely levitate stuff the last time I saw her... did Nightfall do something to her?" "I..." It would be far simpler to play along. There would be far fewer questions that way. "...yes." "Her magic's dying, isn't it?" She nodded. Soarin swore under his breath. "I read the papers about those bastards shutting her project down, a while back, and I thought things couldn't get worse. And then this happens? This on top of the whole lockdown and Nightfall out there?" Another nod, unable to draw the words out. "I just don't get it. Why did she bother with me, of all ponies? And is she even allowed to give me this pass?" he asked, swiping up the rectangular sheet. "I don't think so," Cadence admitted. "But we're past the formalities and traversing the laws; the guards would sooner face Tartarus than doubt the authority of somepony who is trust... who's aligned with my aunt." The pegasus made a strange sound, one that seemed to project an amazement that the guards could be easily fooled by such faith in their authority figures. At least, that was how Cadence thought of it herself. "And as for why she's doing this, Soarin," she concluded simply, "You are her friend, and she couldn't stand by doing nothing for you." "Well," he sighed, "That's good enough for me. I guess I am good enough to be her friend." "Believe it, Soarin." "You'll take care of her, right?" "Of course. But, if I may ask you something..." Soarin had been folding the letter when she spoke, and looked to her. "What is it?" She asked her question slowly, warning adding to her tone as she put Twilight's safety to mind, "Your interacting with Nightfall Hyde... was it something that you willingly partook in?" She needed to rest her conscience. It was the apprehension of every parent or guardian to question a colt that had more than just friendship with a daughter. Even if this wasn't directly the case, Twilight had claimed he was innocent of conspiring with Nightfall Hyde - she wanted to hear it from Soarin himself. And as expected, he hesitated. But then he surprised her. "Let me get this clear to you, Your Highness. Nightfall came to me. Not the other way around." He said this with a firm belief in his words. "You know the whole hostage gig, right? Cooperate with the bad guy, listen to her insane philosophies about what's wrong with the world, and maybe, just maybe, get out alive." "I see. And did you have a takeaway from listening to these 'philosophies' of hers?" He sighed. "I could have left at any time, but A, she would have run me down in seconds, and B, she did have a few good points that nopony regards nowadays. Nobleponies, and the higher-ups in general, don't care about us. They see us as we are - lower than them. So we shouldn't pretend to be better than we are." Cadence sensed it, so she waited for the "but". "But she missed a bigger point." "Will you humor me?" He obeyed. "Nightfall took that too literally. She gave up on ever improving herself is everypony else was only going to see her faults. But here's my question: if you're going to give up on being a good pony, or purging a vice, or achieving your dreams - or just anything - what's the point of existing at all?" And just like that, the suspicion she had against Soarin evaporated. Dumbstruck by the question itself, Cadence shook her head in the slightest of motions. Soarin lightly, kindly chuckled. "You get it, then? That's why I didn't have a takeaway from her 'philosophies'. Well, except for what I just said." Cadence wet her dry lips. He had nothing to do with Nightfall, at least not with taking her side and taking victims of his own, and she could put her concerns at ease with that. She murmured, "I suppose trying is all we can afford to do." "Yeah. And trying to get away from Nightfall is all I can do right now." Cadence took the hint and backed up. "Of course. Goodnight, then. And I wish you safe travels and a better life elsewhere." "Tell Twilight I said goodbye?" "Yes. And I'll see her safe from Nightfall, so you two can meet again someday." She turned and dove from the railing before she could break down and reveal anything else to him. She slowed her descent and touched the floor with an echoed thump. The impact trembled up her legs, and she exhaled. She had come here in suspicion; Twilight asking her to deliver a letter to someone she hadn't known of until now was alarming enough, but to ask for it to be delivered to a pony that was also associated with her evil incarnate had left her appalled. But she was glad to have been proven wrong. What he'd said made sense. Nightfall was a part of Twilight, the part of her that relied too much on shortcuts or just leaving things as they were. And Soarin wanted nothing to do with that. Not anymore, it seemed. Twilight had changed him more than either could realize. And Cadence would be damned if she gave up on her sister-in-law. She entered the most congested area of the theatre, where the ponies were huddling themselves to their cushions or companions most, and cast her magic over them all. Dark ribbons unfurled from their bodies and drew to her, gathering in a single point before her. The ponies had raised their heads for only a second before settling back down, their eyes closing in peace. "Rest your spirits. It will all end soon enough," she said softly, before tucking her wings and exiting the theatre. She decided. Never mind what outcome came in the morning, and never mind choosing whether or not to speak to her aunts. When Twilight would turn herself in, she would fight to defend her. Even if it took the remainder of her own life, she would fight to see her sister free and away from death row. ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ In three minutes, he had his things packed and the Wonderbolts trademark saddlebag slung over his good shoulder. The scar on the other was healing pretty well, but he preferred not to rely too much on it. There were times that he'd wake up at night to his shoulder burning, and had to apply more ointment. He was gonna go broke using that stuff. He picked up Twilight's package. The scroll, with writing that for once looked just like his, and the pass, more collected and official by only a smidgen. He hugged both papers to his chest, crumpling filling the silence of the small room. He was so certain that Cadence had come to arrest him right off the bat. He'd kept telling himself that getting involved with Nightfall was going to bite him in the rump sooner than later, and it seemed too ironic to be suddenly be fearful of one who otherwise was a symbol of comfort and refuge. But he suddenly knew what he was doing when answering her question; a spark burned in him, one of understanding himself. He hardly had to think out his answer before he told Cadence exactly what he thought of the Nightfall and her mindset. Giving up and turning to self-indulgence simply wasn't an option for him anymore. It was his old life of turning to the lovely mares of the nightlife because of his slipping performance rates, and letting his scores drop even lower because of that, and he wanted out. What he said was true in absolution. Realization that Nightfall was wrong had come to him earlier that day, right after she had slashed his ribs for questioning her. As he'd laid on his bed, patting the cut with his sheets, he was helpless to watch more and more bandages get tossed in the bin. The smell of copper became familiar to him, and red was his accenting color - he had woken himself up to what Nightfall, - and he himself - really was. He knew, without any doubt holding him back, that what he now wanted no longer had room for Nightfall's mindset, or for Nightfall at all. With a sharp squeal of the straps, Soarin tightened the saddlebag, and moved out. "Soarin...?" He stopped short, biting down a curse. Of course she wouldn't make it easy to leave. He wheeled to his left and faced Glider, who stood by the doorframe, the hoof and wing on that side gripping the wood, while the other hoof was fiddling with something absentmindedly. Her mane was a wildfire without the braid to contain it, and much longer than Soarin had thought it to be, as it trailed past her neck and down to her knees. The few flyaway hairs made a dance in the draft, and in the little trembles of her chest puffing rapidly. Soarin could only guess that she had been fighting a panic attack just a few minutes ago. "Soarin," she asked again. "Can we talk?" Soarin sighed, "I can't stick around right now, Glider. I have to go." The mare narrowed her eyes. "You've spent several years courting the lucky mares, but you can't talk to me for ten minutes? Surely," she said with a touch of irony, "you could spot ten out of the hundred-thousand minutes you'll have to yourself out on the road." Soarin's mouth parted. "Were you spying on me?" Glider shoved herself from the wall and whipped his face with her wing. "Idiot," she snarled. "Nopony packs their saddlebags to the brim for a milk run. If you can even get away with breaking curfew." Soarin tried not to let his stupidity puncture his pride, but even those efforts deflated it with a needle's prick. "So, you weren't spying." "No, I was, but better for you to know how conspirous you look, trying to make an escape." "It's 'conspicuous'." "Exactly my point. Make it more subtle, at the very least." "No, the word is..." He decided to give up before he'd frustrate himself more so. "Why were you spying on me anyway?" "First of all, this is my theatre. No words slips out from any mouth between these walls without my knowing." Commotion erupted from the first floor. Soarin and Glider both flinched, hearing at least two voices going at each other and a table shattering before three more voices joined in the fight. Soarin caught a few words, including, "cushion", "child", and "mine", as well as some curses even he wouldn't catch himself using. Glider, in a blur, flew to the railing and stood atop the thin line of wood. In her haste, she'd dropped the thing she was messing with, and Soarin took the chance to examine it. Glider wasn't going to mind. "That table's coming out of your pockets!" she hollered at the offenders. "I don't care which of you started it, but I expect you to divide your payment in full by morning!" And she made a jerking motion to shoo them back to their resting places. Soarin took in the item. It was golden, alright, and made of chains that were weaved in a tidy bangle that was thin as Glider's legs when she'd stopped getting out of bed. Every third link had a charm connected, and these charms switched between stars and lightning bolts like the way a checkerboard was designed. He never liked jewelry, or even the color of gold. It sickened him for being reminded of the gaudiness of the noble class, and how they practically bathed in it for their parties instead of offering it to those in a dire circumstance, and so he disregarded the bangle as gaudy, too. And someone like Glider really didn't seem like the glitz-wearing type. It was swiped up in a instant. He looked up at Glider, who just scoffed as she looped the thing around her hoof to play with it again. Behind her, a fresh argument was rising over the old one. "As for the why," Glider continued as though having never been interrupted, "I like to know things. It gets my mind off my own problems because other ponies' problems make me wonder and think. Unfortunately, your princess explained why your dear doctor couldn't come talk to you herself before I could unravel the question myself." Soarin started to get defensive to Twilight. Even now, facing the fact that she was practically banishing him with her pleading that he leave, he thought well of the doctor. Very well, in fact. He could humor a notion of running his hooves along that pink streak in her short hair and laying a peck or two along her neck, - he stopped himself before carrying himself away. He didn't need Glider seeing that grin of his. But as he considered what Glider said, he also grasped the true weight of her spying. She'd seemingly heard everything between him and Cadence, meaning she'd also heard her question him about his involvement with Nightfall. In the wrong ears - absolutely hers, since she had the motive and guts to try to kill Nightfall once - that discussion could be warped into a confession. All Glider had to do was send for the guards, who'd be convinced that Soarin knew where Nightfall was and how to stop her, and she'd easily have her house arrest lifted - she'd get her precious reward, too, if she pushed for it. Glider seemed to sense his distress. She said, "If I wanted to turn you in, you'd be pinned to the floor in a flat split-second." "That's what I'm worried about," Soarin mumbled, distractedly. Opening night had left his head spinning when she'd come at him like a lightning bolt, and let him crash into her when he'd wheeled back the opposite way - all this in the same second. "Well, stop." She looked down and burned her hooves from one rubbing the carpet and the other, the bracelet. "I'm not here to make an enemy, or to ruin the rest of your life." "Then what are you here for? You said you had something to tell me, right?" He threw his saddlebag onto his back to try and make his point. Here Glider fell silent. Soarin nearly broke the floorboards waiting for her to just say it, instead of looking down and pushing that stupid bracelet into her face like it was a lost pet. Why did she even bother leaving her room at this point; up to now, she had been content to lock herself away and refuse to eat, having no one anymore to coddle her like Silver Mist did. So what pulled her out now, and when he was supposed to leave? "Glider," he pressed. "I don't have time for this." "You know how Spitfire tricked you into quitting the 'bolts?" she said quickly. Soarin stared her down. "What's that got to do with anything?" She was panting now. He would've done that breathing trick that he'd often seen Silver do with her, but he never stuck around to memorize it. And helping her would have only been done to get the answer out of her faster. "Spitfire..." she stammered at last. "Spitfire wasn't at blame for setting up your accident. I did it." If she were to throw Soarin to the bottom floor, the air in his chest couldn't have left him faster. And then it flooded rapidly into him, hot and fast. "Don't you dare make a joke out of this." He advanced onto her, and watched her stiffen herself to match his height. "I'm not. I was behind the whole plot of getting you expelled." "Unless you're secretly the CEO of the entire Wonderbolts corps, I seriously doubt it." She shook her head, "I could only dream of being a CEO. But I am not lying to you." Soarin couldn't stop himself this time. The floorboard splintered beneath the hoof that stomped it. "Why would I believe you? Do you-" "For the past few minutes since you had examined my bracelet your eyes have constantly been flitting to my bracelet on and off. And not because you have itchy hooves." "That doesn't mean anything." "But it does," Glider insisted. "You've been staring at it because there's something that bothers you, something you didn't know was bothering you until you looked at it. But you can't name the reason why. You can only associate the shapes and color with something bad, because it reminds you of something unpleasantly related to those things. She tossed the bracelet to him. Soarin winced as the charms smacked together and against his chest. They were heavier than they looked. "I know what envy looks like on the face from seeing my own in the days after my sister had abandoned me and the promise she'd made that we'd fly together as 'bolts. Yours has that same fiery envy, and this bracelet is obviously the reason. It reminds you of somepony who did the same to you...or at least helped do it." Relief for finally knowing subsided Soarin's anger. He had been looking at the stupid thing, but the thing Glider described was an unconscious thought. He'd thought about that particular pony, but he couldn't remember the exact thoughts. He just remembered the action of thinking. But he'd sooner turn himself in like Princess Cadence might've demanded he do than forget the face that fit Glider's description and had stars and lightning bolts for an insignia. "This thing is too fancy, and released way too early," he said through a gritted jaw, "to be official Wonderbolt merch. How exactly do you know Lightning Dust?" Glider hesitated. "Do you have family, Soarin?" Soarin just stared her down. "If you did," she sighed, "you'd know what loyalty in the family is. If parents lose their jobs, it's only natural for the children to steal or beg for money to see them fed. Or if the youngest sibling can't walk on their own, the oldest puts them on their back for a ride, if only to make them forget for a bit." Another sigh. "You, as a brother and a son, or a sister and a daughter, do what you must to make your family happy. Even if you're beat like a dog over and over for it. "I...screwed up on an audition that Lightning and I were doing together. I panicked in the moment and took both her and myself down. That was why she abandoned me; her chances to get onto the team were ruined, and I felt bad that she was still struggling from that day while I was off living my newfound dream of running the theatre." Soarin had some sympathy for that; blacklisted flyers, and the aimless futures they went on to, were a popular subgenre of horror stories to tell in the locker rooms, and none of them ended with, "happily ever after". He wondered if Lightning Dust was hearing his story right now. "I had gone to a show to see about vouching for her to get a second chance," Glider resumed, "or if auditions were at least open. But then I saw you." "What about me?" "Well," she stammered, "nothing the typical eye would catch at a passing glance. Nothing anypony else's eyes would discern. But my eyes are special; they can see things that few others can. The best I can describe it as is soul reading; it's not mind reading, not nearly close, but I can read certain impressions just by looking into somepony's eyes. What the pony is feeling, what things they did, what food or drink they stuffed down their throats... whatever is fresh in the mind's eye, I can read. "What I read in yours was... companionship. Lipstick, cheap cider, a mare who couldn't keep her hooves off you. And what was inside was affecting you outwardly; you looked stupid and drunken on one-night love, and I'm surprised nopony else noticed." "Spitfire noticed," Soarin grimaced. "And I'm guessing you took your findings right to her." "She froze up right when I said, 'lipstick' and your name in the same sentence. Everypony knows the general rule of a career: if you can't shape up, you ship out. Spitfire was dragging her hooves to avoid either option for you, so I offered her a deal." "I think I know where this is going," Soarin stopped her. "I heard all this crap from her and Fleetfoot in the locker room when I was returning my uniform. Lightning Dust came to me the night before my big show, and we had a nightcap together. But it was a numbing serum, right?" The way he growled the word made Glider shrink away. "It was," she confirmed, her voice miniscule as a marble dropping in an immense cavern. "And specifically concocted to remain undetected by magical means, and something that could leave your system fast if somepony thought it was foul play and wanted to use a scientific method." Soarin nodded sharply. "Right. And my crash simply looked like an accident of my wings crippling, so I was dismissed under means of being "out of my prime". Leaving my place open for Lightning Dust, of all ponies who just happened to be practically at the bottom of the waiting list for tryouts, to trot in and take the glory." Glider looked eaten alive. Like she wanted the earth to swallow her up and let her never again see daylight. "...I didn't know you had found out. You never told me." "Yeah, well, it never occurred to me that maybe you had something to do with it!" And, he realized, that wasn't even the worst part. Even after finding out that he'd been betrayed by his own partner, even after letting that bitterness stew and process throughout the last month... it was nowhere near the whole truth. He was never even standing on its doorstep. "You..." he hissed. "You took everything from me..." "It may put you at ease," Glider stared to say, cautiously but shakily, "that Spitfire had first refused my offer. She was very loy-" "That doesn't fix anything!" Soarin exploded. Glider launched herself back, but he followed her fast. "You obviously shook her down after telling her to betray me again and again. You turned her against me!" "I-I know, and what I did was wrong. That's why I'm telling you now, so you can know how sorry I am." "Are you serious, Glider? A sorry isn't going change this!" His voice snapped across the theatre. Ponies on the first floor, as one, droned curiously and gathered beneath them; this was the barest of regard that Soarin gave them. "I had to leave friends behind! Ponies who I knew actually were upset that I was fired! Or did you buy them off, too?" "Now you're just being a child," Glider recoiled. "I wasn't out to ruin your life; I wanted to give back the chance of glory to my sister." "By taking mine away?" "I don't think you get it. You stupid celebrities blinded by fame never get it. My sister and I had to grow up without parents, and without this world ever giving a second look at us. So I had to give up everything so Lightning could finally live her dream!" "At. My. Expense!" Soarin wound up his back and threw every once of energy out into a hind kick that shattered the railing. A section tore itself off, splinters flying, and plummeted to the bottom floor. Screams, impacts of wood against bodies, and departing gallops rose in the air like the remnants of a mushroom cloud, and dust sprung with two hundred concurrent fleeing bodies. Maybe Nightfall was right all along; maybe he was just like her. Nobody ever saw stars or celebrities throwing their anger around as they pleased, and as such, being nobody allowed him that freedom. It was balm over his heat-filled veins. And seeing the treacherous, pathetic heap that was his former boss tremble under him was bliss. She was no longer the big bad wolf of the Altrotta, but the little girl in red crying for what was lost, and he felt good seeing her reduced to this. "Please, Soarin..." Glider pleaded. The bracelet dropped at her hooves as she rose. She came as close as she dared, two feet from him. "I just wanted my sister back. Wouldn't you have done anything for family?" At a different time, Soarin would have compared this statement to Twilight's, and her fight to save her mother. But there was that difference between her and Glider; the means of one were honest, while the other was conniving. Apathy clogged whatever pity he once had for Glider. "Was it even worth it?" he asked in a murmur. "What are you talking about?" But Glider knew exactly what he meant. She dropped her gaze. "The same day of the premiere, I went to the academy to see her, check on how she was adjusting..." "And?" She messed with her mane, yanking the strands to fashion her trademark braid. "...she...she pretended not to know who I was. Not literally, like asking who I was. But just... just seeing right through me." "I see. But one thing I don't get: why did you really offer me this job of...of singing showtunes and cleaning up for you, if you wanted me out of Lighting Dust's chance to become a 'bolt?" Yet the answer was clear the moment he finished uttering his question. Pity. She pitied his being without stardom, and the strong probability that no one would hire a washed out celebrity. That he could sing decently was just a perfect coincidence that she used to an extra advantage of selling off his former fame. "You know, you're just disgusting. I can't see why Silver wasted her time with you. You're... she should've..." He hissed, tempted to kick the rails again. Instead, he stomped, booms like gunshot vibrating the floors, two more holes added. And from the way Glider looked, she wasn't disagreeing with him. In fact, that also explained why she'd run off trying to kill Nightfall and get Twilight's formula as a reward. The guilt she had was eating her alive right now - who was to say it hadn't been just a few days ago? Lightning Dust ditching her twice must have left a scar on Glider, one so deep that she'd become desperate to remove whatever it was that made her unapproachable. She'd become desperate to have the world accept her, not as she was, but as what it defined as "fixed". "I can't make you understand how sorry I am," Glider said. "But I know you'll be happy with knowing that I'm paying for what I did, and will be for a long time. I lost my only real friend, my theatre, my dream...and my sense of identity." She hitched up the back of her vest, showing off her flank. Bare, and no such defining mark of individuality to show off. "Now I'm just like you. Really, worse than that." She was a blank flank like him. And after what she'd said about Lightning Dust disowning her on the same day that he'd overheard Spitfire and Fleetfoot, he didn't doubt it if she'd lost her cutie mark at precisely the same moment as he. And even after all that, and losing Silver Mist to the killer, she'd still held out and paid every bleeding drop of gold she had left to keep her employees financially secure. Pity or no pity, the theatre job saved Soarin's life; anywhere else, and malnutrition and the cold hearts of Equestria would have killed him. He owed her this, at the very least. "I'm sorry, Glider," he said. "I'm sorry all that's happened to you, because nopony deserves that. But what you did won't justify that. Especially not with me." Glider nodded numbly. "I know." Soarin looked to her, and thought about the pass; precisely, if more than one could be vouched for it. But he knew that the guards would jump him as soon as they saw Glider breaking her house arrest. He'd never see the outside of Canterlot then. "I hope you do. 'Cause you're gonna end up living the rest of your life with that on your shoulders." He threw his saddlebag, turning from her. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go." And he walked away and closed off the gape in his heart. He could process what he felt, and ask himself if he'd said the right thing, later, when he was safe. The heights called him now. He climbed up the railing closest to the entry doors at the front, balancing with his outstretched wings. Glider wasn't saying anything behind him - only the light shuffling of a heavy hoof on the carpet - she wasn't about to protest what he was doing, much less to one who didn't work for her anymore. As for the ponies below him, they had settled down to sleep, but they mostly converged by the double doors. His glide, therefore, would be best as a ten-foot fall, two feet from the floor, and another five to fly across to the doors. His hooves would flick the ears of the fancy nobles, more or less stirring them before the inevitable harrumph and return to dreams. Just the way he liked his gliding. He swiveled his wings in their sockets; the rib wound itched angrily, but this small flight wouldn't be a problem at all. He jumped... ...and Glider slapped a heavy hoof on his shoulder, yanking him back. His torso hit the thick beam of wood, and his stomach flopped. "Aaah," he moaned, picking himself up and whirling to her. Alicorns' sake, Gl-" Her face was obscured by the hood, the fabric swaying with a struggle to stay upright. What little skin Soarin could see outside of fabric choking what he couldn't was layered with goosebumps and bulged veins, and the mare was chattered in a pained wail that sounded like the Windigos of the Frozen North. "Glider...?" The corner where she had been mewling was empty. Nightfall's cries lessened with Soarin's voice. She peeled the hood and pressed into him, her slitted eyes rushing to the corners pointed at him. There were a dozen expressions that had marked her face before; smugness, passion, glee - anger. Definitely anger, when he'd say something that she'd be offended by, hence his most recent wound. But now, her pupils thin to the point of nonexistence, gave way to the real, raw fear only seen in a child, or a parent about to lose that child. Hissing out a long string of laughter through grinding teeth, she wept through her eyes. "You can't - I'm not letting you - Run!" Soarin pulled a helpless inch from her. He had to remind himself to breathe. "Nightfall? Nightfall, what's wrong with you?" She wheezed, "S-soarin...help..." And she cackled again, like the worst case of a madmare who had seen the world break before her eyes.