//------------------------------// // Episode Fourteen: Cinnamon & Roses // Story: Paging Doctor Sparkle! // by Quillamore //------------------------------// Twilight Sparkle, M.D. Ponyville Hospital, Day 30, early morning Life gallops by when love is in your heart. Either that saying is true for everypony, or I’m even more of a sap than I realize.  Already, it’s been almost a month since I’ve come to Ponyville, and yet somehow, even that escapes my brain for the longest time.  I always figured I’d keep counting the days of my exile forever, as if it’d actually get me closer to my Canterlot home, but somehow, even that whizzes past me.  All I can think about right now is just how lucky I am to have Scarlet by my side, to have another crisis averted. That, and my patients, of course. I’m not so much of a sap that I’ll ever stop being married to the job. In any case, I don’t really realize until too late that I am, in a way, fulfilling my dreams.  I am returning to Canterlot, in a sense, even if it’s only for one day. And that, on top of spending time with Scarlet, is enough to rope me into some dangerous decisions.  Namely: choosing to be an “undercover medic” at a manga convention. The director made it sound harmless enough--the two of us would be allowed to go to the con and shill Fluttershy’s manga on the express condition that we patrol the building for potential emergencies in the making.  For whatever reason, the con planners hadn’t hired a safety staff from Canterlot, and while I would’ve berated them for it under any other circumstances, I was at least thankful that the date was going as planned. That is, however, until Rarity comes straight into my office just as I’m about to meet the train. “Dr. Redheart and I will be out on business in Canterlot this weekend,” I try to explain before she gets too close.  “Another doctor will come to assist you momentarily, so I would just recommend that you stay in the waiting room until--” I nudge Rarity towards the area, and I’m just feet away from the waiting room when the seamstress starts pulling something out of her saddlebag.  A sight that, in and of itself, would have been completely normal if I didn’t notice two other saddlebags sitting nearby in an otherwise empty room.  As this whole scene unfolds, Redheart trots straight into the room, shooting me a glance that reads “those aren’t mine” before moving onwards towards her office. Just when I’m about to question the situation more, though, Rarity pulls out what has to be the frilliest dress I’ve ever seen, with pure white fabric and red crosses stitched onto the sleeves and pockets.  As if that whole thing wasn’t too big to fit into Rarity’s seemingly bottomless saddlebag, she pulls out a matching hat and, later, a purse made to resemble a first-aid kit. All I have to do is look into the other saddlebag, which contains the exact same ensemble in pink, to know exactly what’s going on here. “He really did mean undercover, didn’t he?” I mutter to myself, half-expecting that Rarity won’t hear me. “Indeed,” Rarity responded.  “Your director came by to commission these a week or so ago.  Dresses like these don’t run cheap, and he was about to deduct the cost from you two’s monthly pay.  I was able to persuade him into paying for it himself, though, considering all you’ve done for Ponyville already and considering that I have a younger sister who would’ve easily fallen into Dr. Glimmer’s schemes.  The way I see it, it’s a gift of thanks for all your hard work!” I suppose it’s official now, then.  Saving Ponyville’s foals from certain Cutie Pox-related doom means you get a free dress from Rarity.  Not something I needed, but pretty fair all the same. I just hope the next time Rarity offers, I actually get to pick my outfit instead of just trotting around wearing a stereotypical nurse costume with extra frills. I choose to grin and bear it, simultaneously wanting to strangle my hospital director in the process.  It’s hardly Rarity’s fault, and if I’m going to stay sane with Scarlet, I have to at least try to keep these remarks to myself.  Just as I think of my new marefriend, she trots back into the room, sees the second saddlebag, and practically squeals in delight.  I almost wouldn’t have thought that sound possible, if I hadn’t heard it for myself. “Oh my stars, you could practically pass this off as designer!” she practically screams, going back into her fangirlish mode without warning.  “How much do you want for it?” She nearly faints as Rarity goes through her whole spiel again, lovingly touching the fabric to her face.  I never would have pegged Scarlet as a fashion-loving pony, but I suppose this is the sort of thing that happens in relationships.  Still doesn’t make it any weirder to witness. “About what you said before--that’s because it’s, unfortunately, almost-designer.  Unfortunately, the methods the Fillita greats use are arduous, and authentic Neighponese fabric is so hard to get on short notice.  I had to use some less intricate fabric I had left over from my last Fillita commission. Alas, I only wish your director had come up with this plan sooner, or I could have come up with some truly stunning haute couture.  So, unfortunately, there will be somepony at that convention with a far more expensive dress than yours.” “It won’t fall apart, will it?” I question, half-wondering if Rarity had to cut serious corners to get two extremely intricate dresses done in five days’ time. “Of course not.  It’s not a designer piece, but it’s certainly not a knockoff.  I’d never have you two going out in something like that.  Plus, if you managed to get blood on anything other than this perfect medium fabric, it would be a disaster waiting to happen.” My mind tunes out just about as soon as Rarity gives that surprisingly morbid comment--surprisingly morbid for a non-doctor, mind you--but from what I can tell, this “Fillita” fashion is one of the most coveted things in the Canterlot manga subculture right now.  Most of the richer Canterlot ponies can easily afford it, but for ponies like Scarlet, anything other than the cheaper versions are pipe dreams. With that background in mind, I almost consider myself lucky to have such an item in my possession. (Whether or not that lucky feeling will stay when I put it on remains to be seen.) Anyway, ugly or not, just seeing Scarlet smile over finally getting one of her dream items is enough for me.  That is, at least, until I make the mistake of asking what’s in the third saddlebag. As it opens in front of me, I can see a pure white suit with sleeves covered in gold chains.  It’s far too small to fit me, but I’ve seen that sort of outfit enough times in Canterlot to know exactly what it’s meant to be, and exactly what it’s for. I pull the matching crown out of the saddlebag and turn to face Spike with a skeptical gaze. “Princely Fillita’s really popular too,” he says nervously.  “I’m not going to the convention, but I figured I’d commission something too, for...recreational purposes?” Barely five seconds after he tells me this, I can just imagine him posing in front of a mirror, royal suit and all.  For once, Scarlet must’ve imagined the same thing, because the minute the two of us leave the room and head towards the train station, she whispers into my ear. “Because impressing mares is absolutely recreational.” By the time I reach the station, I realize I’m still laughing. **** Twilight Sparkle, M.D. Ponyville Hospital, Day 30, mid-afternoon By the time we reach Canterlot, the convention is already underway.  While we don’t have tickets for the first day, we can still see the revelers from outside our hotel room, and they crowd the area in droves.  Most of the costumes are ones that I can’t place, but judging from the way Rarity talked about the fashion at these sorts of places, months of work had to have been put into them.  And, of course, everypony who’s able to afford one of these ensembles is strutting around like they’re on some sort of subcultural catwalk. They’re the envy of everypony there, and they know it. I know that sort of confidence won’t be easy to summon up tomorrow, but the more important fact is that it should be.  With the way I was in Canterlot back then, it should be all too easy to patrol the premises, help Fluttershy promote her manga, and everything in between.  Unfamiliar crowds or strange uniforms shouldn’t matter. After all, Doctor Twilight Sparkle doesn’t make mistakes, and she certainly doesn’t get nervous.  Eight years of medical school had been enough to pick every last bit of anxiety off the fearful little filly I used to be, and I wasn’t about to let her creep back into my life. Until I realize that maybe it isn’t the dress that’s causing this much trouble.  It’s looking at Scarlet in a new way, and wondering if, deep down inside, I’ll always be destined to screw this up. Whatever the case, I tell myself, it certainly isn’t something to dwell on.  So I slowly retreat back to the technique I used when I was an undergraduate getting used to things: analyzing the facts of the case until the nerves went away.  And since there aren’t too many for me to really dig into, I focus on the good and the bad. Bad news: it seems that, after those costuming shenanigans, the director didn’t want any more money to go down the drain for something like this, so we only have passes for Saturday and Sunday.  Good news: from what little Fluttershy’s told me, nothing really happens during the Friday afternoon slot anyway--so little, in fact, that she didn’t even bother to set up the booth today. Bad news: ponies already start to pick the vendor booths off on Fridays, Fluttershy says, so I might not be able to find a Healer Midnight figure to surprise Scarlet with.  Good news: Beautiful Healers isn’t the most popular manga on the market, so they might still have what I want tomorrow.  Bad news: I might not be left alone for long enough to sneak past Scarlet. And the ultimate good news: for all the penny-pinching this director’s done for us, he’s at least bought us a room with two beds.  No rom-com awkwardness to be found here. I’m about to tick off the whole trip as a success, all things considered, when I suddenly realize one flaw in the plan. “If we’re not going to the con today,” I say, half to myself, “then what are we going to do for the next few hours?” By the time I say it, though, I almost immediately regret it.  Not because it’s a particularly bad thing to say, but because I know that lately, whenever I say something “to myself,” somepony else always manages to answer.  I don’t know if Ponyville ponies have particularly keen ears or what, but either way, I really ought to quit that habit before it gets me into any more trouble. “I don’t know,” Scarlet replies, her voice tinged with some indecipherable emotion between annoyance and fatigue.  “With the way you were off in another world, I figured you just wanted to stay here.” Sure enough, I’d been trying to deescalate the situation in my head for so long that I’d barely even noticed the way Scarlet had already draped herself over the bed.  I can’t say I’ve ever seen her look tired, not even after she learned she was being transferred to Appaloosa, but sure enough, the hours caught up to her just like they did to everypony else.  Judging from everything she’s been through up until now, from investigations to love confessions, I’m actually not all that surprised her perfect doctor mask is peeling off again. “So in other words, you wanted to take a nap,” I tell her, trying my best to make sure my voice doesn’t sound like I’m criticizing her.  As I’ve often been told, both inside and outside of Canterlot, teasing isn’t really my forte. Still, I figure it’s at least worth a shot, and for once, Scarlet actually gets the message. “Hey, I never can stay awake long after being on a train,” she mutters, letting off a tiny chuckle for once.  “Maybe that’s why I never left home.” She lets out a satisfied sigh and holds onto her pillow like it’s a life preserver tethering her to the waking world.  Yet, even as she puts on this big show of being tired, I can still tell she’s troubled somehow. I’ve never been that much of an emotion reader, but somehow, with Scarlet, I can always tell.  Maybe she’s an easy pony to read, or maybe it’s just another sign of this strange romance I’ve allowed myself to fall into. Either way, she stretches her hooves out onto the bed for a few short moments before finally letting her words come out. “So tell me, how does this place make you feel?” “The hotel?” I ask, nerves falling into my voice for no particular reason.  I know it can’t be that easy, that there has to be more to the question, but I move onwards anyway.  “It’s fairly passable, so far as these sorts of places go. Most hotels here look the same these days, anyway.  I hear the restaurant district is the exact same way. The amenities are nice enough, but I haven’t tried the beds yet, so--” Scarlet cuts me off with a glance, confirming my suspicions.  All too often, there’s something more to this mare than she tends to put on, and I get the feeling that this will be yet another one of her moments. Instead of a normal response, she stretches one of her front legs out towards the window and waves it around like a taxi driver giving a tour. “No,” she finally says.  “Not just the hotel. The whole thing.  Canterlot.  You’ve managed to end up back here, even if it’s just for a few days.  Does it feel like you’re back home?” Her voice seems sincere enough, but even then, there’s still a world of doubt hidden behind it.  I want to tell her that I never even considered the possibility, that the date has been more on my mind than my grand return.  But somehow, for once in my life, my mouth fails me. It’s almost like confessing everything to Scarlet has caused it to tense up, locking its secrets shut for good. “I’m fine with being together tomorrow,” she reaffirms.  “I’m fine with everything. But the more I think about where we’re going together, the more I wonder how long it’s going to last.  Everything about us, whether if it’s as friends or rivals or lovers or something else.” The minute I realize the implications behind what she’s saying, I want her to fall asleep.  I want everything to turn out the way it would when my brother’s radio wasn’t working. One time, when he was studying at the library, it almost broke altogether, but I found a way, just as I always did.  Just as I always will. Turn it off.  Turn it back on.  Everything is fixed.  Everything is forgotten. “If you’re serious about this, I’m willing to play along.  But I want you to know this much: if I fall in love with you, and you flit off to some other place without me, I won’t forgive you.” From what little I’ve learned from Fluttershy’s magical manga, phrases like that are just things magical fillies say.  “Unforgivable” is just a stock line you throw at a villain to show the audience you’re in on the genre. Or, in Fluttershy’s own case, the exact same line Rose gives Cassia every single time she moves to another planet in her eternal quest for attention. Even if it was just meant as a nerdy joke, it still hurts.  But not as much as what Scarlet says next, the question that shakes me to my core. “Will you be able to bring yourself back to Ponyville?” As I try my best to answer, as she falls asleep, I realize the ultimate flaw in my plan to return to Canterlot National Hospital and woo Scarlet.  I never thought it would have to be an either/or decision. As if the thought of an upcoming first date wasn’t crushing enough, a final question pulses through my mind as I force myself to sleep, to reset to a better place. Can I really live with a hoof between two worlds?