36th of Warm Season, 1005 BA
Rarity shoved some clothes into the travel bag, not paying attention to which ones she’d grabbed from the small wardrobe. As soon as she had three sets for each of her parents inside, she endured a small headache to magically cart the bag down the hall, through the living room and into the kitchen, where she dropped the thing down hard on the table. She promptly proceeded to raid the pantry as her parents watched. She didn’t look at either of them, afraid the ice within her would break out and hurt them somehow.
“Rarity?” her father ventured. “What are you doing?”
“Packing your things, since neither of you seem to be of the mind to do it.” She reached for a can of beans with her left hand, only to cringe and jerk back at the pain the motion produced. Right, bullet wound. “You both need to get out of Mooisville as soon as possible. I’ve already got some sand lizards ready for you.”
Her teary-eyed mother took a step closer. “Rarity, slow down. We still have to—”
“We don’t have to do a thing,” she snapped, snatching some loaves of bread with her magic and setting them into a small canvas bag. “You’re going south, and I’m going after Sweetie and Coco.”
Now her sputtering father spoke up. “Go after them? Are you crazy? You can’t just—”
Rarity, hackles rising, stopped her supply gathering just long enough to raise a finger at him. “Do not call me crazy. I might actually believe it.” Her eyes spotted some bottles of wheat beer. She caught them up and began emptying their contents in the sink.
“H-hey!” He started to approach, but hesitated. “That’s my… You can’t just…”
“You are traveling,” she answered curtly. “You’ll need to stay hydrated. You need water, not alcohol.” The empty bottles dropped to the counter with one resounding bang, making her father wince. “Now go to the well and fill these up.”
“Rarity.”
She ignored her mother in favor of opening a few more pantries. Her parents were living off of canned goods for the most part. Excellent.
“Rarity.”
She placed the cans into the travel case one at a time, pausing to check each one and discarding those of lesser nutritional value. Drawers slammed open and she snatched some wooden utensils for them to eat with.
“Rarity!”
What else would they need? Blankets for the cold nights. She started for their bedroom. Her mother caught her wrist, but she jerked it away and kept moving. “Leave it, Mother. You’ve got a long journey ahead.”
“Just stop for a second.”
Rarity tensed. “I can’t stop. I won’t let them win.” Her eyes darted to her father, who watched her with a lost expression, and the bottles sitting untouched on the counter. She whirled on him with a snarl. “I thought I told you to go fill those up!”
He hunched back at her outburst, but didn’t move to obey. “Honey, you need to listen to your mother.”
The ice hardened, threatening to shatter and lacerate everything near. “And you need to stop wasting time. Sweetie Belle and Coco are out there.”
“We know that. We just—"
“No, you don’t know!” She stomped towards him, barely aware of her ever rising voice. “You haven’t seen what the bastards are capable of! But I have, and I swear to the Sisters I am not going to let them spend an extra second in their filthy hands because you are too slow and stupid to—”
She registered the pain first, a palm striking against her cheek hard enough to turn her head. Rarity didn’t think. She only reacted, her fist flying before the sting fully registered. It connected with something soft, and the next thing Rarity knew her mother was lying on the floor. She blinked, anger vanished in a moment of terrible understanding.
Silver Lining was halfway out of its holster.
Silence filled the kitchen, a foreboding specter. Rarity stood frozen, fist still extended and weapon at the ready. Her breath left her as a storm of thoughts invaded her mind.
I hit my own mother.
Why would I do that?
I was about to shoot her!
What’s wrong with me?
I’m sorry!
I should have been more careful.
Will I kill my own family?
I didn’t mean to!
She hurt me.
She’s my mother!
I’m so sorry!
They’ll hate me now.
How could I?
She’s okay, it was just a punch.
Put the damn gun down!
Movement brought the silence back to her skull. The breath returned to her lungs as her mother pushed herself up on one arm and used the other to rub her cheek. She stared up at Rarity with wide eyes. Those eyes brought back the chill to Rarity’s heart, even though there was no accusation in them. They held something far worse: pity.
“Rarity, what happened to you out there?”
She looked to her father. Back to her mother. She wasn’t sure which of them had asked the question. A desperate thought invaded her mind: Get away. Get away before you do something worse. She acted right away, rushing for the door.
Two steps later, her mother tackled her around the midsection in a tight hug. “Don’t! It’s not your fault!”
“Let me go! I don’t want to hurt you!” She squirmed and pushed and pulled at her mother, eyes set on the kitchen door, but made no progress before a large pair of arms caught her by the shoulders.
Her father pressed his muzzle to her neck, wetting it with fresh tears. “Stop, Rarity. Just stop. Please.”
She fought for a little longer, but the hurt in his voice and the tears on her coat sapped at her energy. Soon she was sagging in their combined embraces, sobbing and clutching her mother’s shoulders. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry! I d-didn’t mean to.”
“It’s okay,” her mother insisted through her own sniffles. “I’m all right. Your mother’s made of tougher stuff than that.”
“It’s not okay,” she muttered back, more and more of her fight draining with every breath. “I’m not okay. There’s nothing about this that is okay.”
Her parents whispered soothing words, eventually managing to coax her into one of the dining chairs. Her mother insisted, over and over again, that she was okay, but Rarity just couldn’t believe it. She gripped their hands in her own, afraid that if she let go they’d disappear and leave her to her wretched villainy. Her father knelt at her side and rested his chin gently on her shoulder, like he used to do when she was a foal, while her mother used her free hand to stroke Rarity’s mane. And the whole time, Rarity kept telling herself that she was the worst daughter in the history of Equestria.
As she was finally starting to calm down, her father chuckled dully. “My little princess, a feisty warrior. Who’d have thought?”
Doing her best to smile, even if she couldn’t feel it, she replied with a remorseful, “I’m sorry I called you stupid, Papa.”
Her mother rang in near-instantly. “You should never apologize for the truth, dear.”
“Love you too, Cookie.”
“Of course you do. I can bake.”
Rarity couldn’t help it; she giggled. With one last squeeze of their hands, she let go and rubbed her eyes clean of tears. “I’m sorry I hit you, Mother.”
“I’m not,” she replied with confidence. “It got you to sit down and cool off. In fact, I’m proud.”
Her vision recovered, Rarity looked to her mother and cringed at the substantial bruise forming on her cheek. “Proud? Of what?”
Her mother grinned as she rubbed the big blue and black spot. “My daughter’s got one heck of a left hook.”
Hondo groaned and stood up. “Mares are so weird.”
“And don’t you forget it, mister.”
“I won’t. You don’t give me the chance to.” He settled in the seat opposite Rarity and leaned against the table. “Rarity? What’s going on?”
She tensed, her heart feeling as if it had been squeezed to a tenth its size. “W-we don’t have time for that.” She started to stand. “Sweetie’s—”
Her mother’s magic pushed her back down. “Both of our daughters are in trouble.” She laid a gentle hand on Rarity’s shoulder. “We need to help the one that’s in front of us. Please, Rarity. You’re wound up tighter than a clock, and it’s clearly been bad for you. Talk to us.”
As much as Rarity wanted to object, looking into the eyes of her parents stole her resistance away. Yet… Sweetie couldn’t wait for this. She tried one last, feeble argument. “The longer we wait… the h-harder it will be to…”
“Honey?” Her father caught her eye. “Do you know where to find Sweetie?”
What was left of her heart sank deep into the recesses of her stomach as she realized she had no idea. Lips trembling, she shook her head.
“Then rushing out there isn’t going to do anything. So talk. Tell us what’s going on. Give us context.”
She held out for a few seconds longer, but at last her defenses cracked. The moment she opened her mouth, it all broke free like water from a dam. Braeburn, the griffons, Rockstead. She decided to skip Spike and Fluttershy, knowing they wouldn’t appreciate being added to the tale, but otherwise would hold nothing back. The more she talked, the more she realized she wanted to talk. It was like some pressure was getting released.
She was an hour into her story, having just been abandoned (for lack of a better word) by Yearling when the local authorities showed up. The whole thing had to be put on hold for another hour while her mother spoke with a quartet of armed deputies and arranged for the bodies to be taken away. Rarity gave a statement, but it was clear the officers didn’t believe that she was responsible for defending the home. Which felt surprisingly good to hear; at the very least, it meant news of her actions hadn’t reached Mooisville yet. Then again, she and her parents tactfully left out the whole ‘Bulletproof Heart’ thing for obvious reasons. They might not have believed it anyway.
This neighborhood had always had a crime problem, but seeing how calm the deputies were about such a massive gunfight taking place in a residential area hammered home a grim reality: it had gotten worse since she’d left. Maybe it was a good thing she planned to drag her parents and sibling out of this place. Any neighborhood where it took the police more than an hour to get to the site of a gunfight and they barely seemed concerned was no place to live. Her father seemed convinced that the rise in crime was the new mayor’s fault. Rarity didn’t presume to judge things she’d not been around to witness.
The deputies left with a promise to “open an investigation into finding Sweetie Belle and Coco Pommel”, but Rarity strongly suspected that translated into “we’re not even going to try.” When the last of the bodies had been cleared, her parents pressed her to finish her story. So she did, relieved to finally get back to it. She already felt a little better from what she’d told at first, and the relief of letting the rest of it out was palpable.
When the story ended her father, ears twitching and eyes smoldering, was the first to break the silence. “We need to make a detour to Hoofington. When I find this… this AJ…” He snorted, his fists pressed tight against the table. “With my bare hands. I swear to Mother Night.”
Admitting to that mistake had been difficult, and even now Rarity felt her stomach churning and her thighs burning from the blurry memories. And yet, wearily, she replied, “I doubt we’ll ever hear from her again. Honestly, it’s for the better.”
“For the better? After what she did to you?”
“I was drunk, Papa.” Rarity clenched her eyes shut and turned her face away from them. “What she did was wrong, but the fact remains that I gave her the opening she needed.”
“That’s doesn’t excuse…!” At her mother’s hard look, he crossed his arms and glared at the table. “It just burns me that I couldn’t be there to protect my daughter, okay?”
“It’s okay, Papa,” she muttered. “It’s not your fault.”
He slammed his fist down on the table. “Damn it, it’s not okay! Look at what’s become of you. You’re a ticking time bomb!”
“Hondo!”
Rarity kept her head bowed and shoulders hunched. “No. He’s r-right, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I l-lashed out. I just…” She hugged her shoulders in an attempt to stop their shaking. “I’m just so scared. I never know when somepony’s going to try to kill me or… or try to get between my legs. I see threats everywhere. I th-think it’s driving me crazy.” She accepted her mother’s hurried embrace, for once not jumping at the contact.
Quiet returned to the room for a time. Rarity’s gaze was locked upon the familiar bumps and ridges of the stone table. How many breakfasts, lunches, and dinners had she had in this very seat? It had never been much. Peasant meals, really. Now that she was here, in her mother’s warm arms and under her father’s protective gaze, she realized she could really use some of her father’s grilled carrot dogs and home-grown potatoes.
“It’s not right,” he muttered. “This has to stop, Rarity.”
She raised her head just enough to meet his eyes. “And how would we stop it, Papa? You’ve seen for yourself that they aren’t interested in negotiation.”
“We can pay them off!”
“Even if we could buy Manehattan itself, this has gone beyond money,” she countered calmly. She rubbed her mother’s shoulder gently, and the mare understood the signal to end their little hug. “They’re out for my blood now, and won’t stop until they’ve got it.”
His scowl weakened, his gaze turning into something of a plea. “But there has to be something. Somepony who can help us.” He snapped his fingers. “What about that Flaming Vermillion? She hates the Apples, doesn’t she?”
Her mother ended that thinking with a firm glare. “We are not putting our family in the crossfire of a war between the Bad Apples and a vigilante. The whole idea is to keep away from danger, not invite it.”
His ears folded back as he sank into his seat. “I suppose. I just think we need some extra protection, that’s all. Celestia knows we can’t hire it.”
“Maybe we could hide somewhere.” Her mother turned to her. “That’s what you were trying to do, isn’t it?”
It was. But she’d already travelled so far, and there weren’t many options. She couldn’t have her entire family on the run, she’d never be able to protect them that way. They needed someplace to lay low, somewhere they could hide while she kept the Apples busy. After all, it was her they wanted. Even kidnapping Sweetie and Coco was surely little more than a ruse to draw her out.
But where could they go? The buffalo wouldn’t let them stay, Rockstead wouldn’t be safe, Las Pegasus and Mareami were too dangerous. Seaddle, perhaps? It was remote enough, and they might be able to blend in with the locals. Still, who was to say the Bad Apples didn’t have connections over there? The Apple Family surely would. Perhaps she could ask Spike…
Spike.
She sat up abruptly, interrupting a heated debate between her parents with her motion. She rubbed her vest, feeling Ruby Heart beneath. He’d made an offer to her. Would he let her grant that offer to her family instead? He was the kind sort. Granted, a life underground would be rather dull after a while, but perhaps it wouldn’t be for too long. All she had to do was settle her business with the Bad Apples and Apple Family, one way or the other. And really, what safer place could there possibly be?
Her father’s voice cut through her thoughts. “Rarity? You have an idea?”
“I do.” But she couldn’t tell them, not yet. Spike needed to be asked. It was only proper. “I have a friend. I’m confident he could protect you, but I’ll have to send him a letter first.”
“Marvelous!” Her mother clapped her hands at the news. “And where does this fellow live?”
“South.” Rarity grimaced at the distance that would have to be crossed. Again. “Very south. You’ll have to pack for a season-long journey. Maybe longer.”
“We’ll do it if it means keeping the family safe.” Her father then peered at her. “But what’s this ‘you’ business?”
Catching his meaning, Rarity tried to smile. The truth of what she was about to say had her feeling oh-so tired. “I’ll be going after Sweetie and Coco, of course. You two will go on ahead.”
He pounded the table with his fist yet again. “Not a chance! You actually expect me to let you face this alone?”
Rarity didn’t lose her smile. Her heart swelled in the presence of his protective instincts. Even so… “I’ve been handling it on my own for a while now, Papa. I can do it, of that I can assure you.”
“Like Tartarus you can!” He crossed his arms, visibly puffing up like some agitated toad. “I won’t stand for it. You hear me? I’m going with you!”
She chuckled at his determination. “Papa, I’ve already learned so much about surviving out there. Have you ever even left Mooisville?”
“I can learn just as well as you can, young lady.”
She crossed her arms as well, maintaining her patience. “You could. Or you might die in the first fight. I was lucky. The Sisters were smiling on me. But while I’m teaching you how to use a gun, Sweetie and Coco will be getting farther and farther ahead. We’ll need to move fast.”
“You don’t think I can—”
“Dear?” Her mother faced him, her face cool but worry visible in her eyes. “I think Rarity has a good point. We’re more likely to get in the way than help.”
His eyes bulged. “How can you say that? You’re practically asking her to get herself killed!”
“I don’t like it any more than you do,” she admitted with a sigh. “But in case you missed it, it was Rarity who defended this house against overwhelming numbers. What did we do, Hondo? Hide in the kitchen holding frying pans, as if they might actually protect us from bullets. Like it or not, Rarity knows what she’s doing. And us?” She leaned heavily against the table, at last taking her gaze away from his. “We don’t. All we’ll do is slow her down.”
Rarity didn’t know whether to thank the mare for her support and trust or try to comfort her clear sense of helplessness. A few seconds of indecisiveness later, she reached over to rub her mother’s back. The mare tilted her head just enough to smile for her, but it was a small and tremulous thing.
“I can’t believe what I’m hearing.”
“Papa—”
“No!” He snorted over bared teeth and stood up so fast his chair fell over. “It’s not right. I can’t let this happen. You’re not going alone, and that’s final.”
As frustrating as he was being, Rarity still couldn’t conjure any anger towards him. She merely shook her head. “You no longer get the final say in what I do and don’t do. I’m not your—”
“She’s my daughter!” His entire body shook as he closed his eyes tight against their stares. His fists were clenched at his sides. “I already failed one. I can’t for the other! Y-you can’t ask me to… to…” His chest heaved, and Rarity came to the abrupt realization that his manner was not due to anger. Tears were forming in the corners of his eyes, tears he was clearly struggling to hold back. “A father is supposed to protect his family. I’m supposed to be the strong one, not you!”
There was that pain in the heart again, like little needles poking without mercy. Rarity hurried around the table to give the stallion a tight hug. “It’s okay, Papa. Just calm down. Can you do that for me, please?”
He remained stiff at first, but at last he reciprocated, engulfing her in an air-stealing grip. “I finally got you back.” His breath caught for just a moment as he rubbed his hand through her hair. “My little princess is back, and n-now you want me to let you go again.”
She pulled back just enough to smile for him, but she could feel the trembling in her lips. “Oh, Papa, stop. Y-you’re going to make me break down again, and I think we’ve had enough of those today. Don’t you?”
He smiled back, tears at last trailing down his cheeks. “I might be willing to part with my stallion card if it means keeping you at my side a little bit longer.”
With a giggle, she pressed her cheek to his broad chest. “I love you too. Please don’t think all of this is a sign of your failure as a father. You’ve been wonderful! I was just too much of a brat to recognize it. If I could do it all again, I never would have left home.”
He said nothing for a time, but then he held her at arm’s length. “I still want to come.”
She met his gaze and smiled for him once more. “And I’m still saying no.” He sagged, looking for all the world like he’d just learned about his daughter’s death. By now the pain had been going on so long that she hardly bothered to fight it. It seemed the world was determined tenderize her heart today. “You two should get ready to go. I can’t delay my search much longer.”
“But… surely I can help,” he tried, voice feeble. “Somehow?”
Ears lowering, Rarity hesitated. “I… I don’t think so.”
Her mother’s voice, strong and commanding, interrupted his reply. “We can, actually.”
They turned in unison to find Cookie watching them with a firm, narrow-eyed expression. Rarity was the first to ask the obvious question. “What do you mean?”
Her mother crossed her arms and nodded in a manner suggesting she’d just come to a decision. “Your father and I may not live the lives of the elite and glamorous, but we’ve lived in this town all our lives. We have connections all over Mooisville. Give us a day to go talk to some ponies, and again tomorrow. Somepony’s bound to know something.” At Rarity’s hesitancy, she added sharply, “Would you rather go running around the city and wilderness with no ideas?”
Despite her misgivings, Rarity had to admit she had a point. If she left now, she’d have no bearing. How much time might she waste just trying to figure out which direction the Bad Apples had gone? Having to wait here while her dear sister and friend moved farther and farther away didn’t sit well with her, but if her parents did find something then she might actually save time.
Then again… “But what if the bad Apples notice your snooping? You might not come back home.”
Her mother scowled, but didn’t take long to respond. “Rarity, you want us to let you save them? Fine, we’ll let you do it. But we’ve got to help in some way. Your father’s right, Sweetie is our daughter just as she is your sister, and Coco has become a friend of ours. We need to do something, and this is within our power. We’ll take the risk.”
A glance at her father confirmed that he was as devoted to this course as her mother was. Rarity heaved a sigh and nodded. “Very well, if that’s what you wish. But if you don’t come back I will be most cross with the both of you.”
Her father snorted. “I think we’ve been through worse.”
“Speak for yourself,” her mother replied, rubbing her bruise.
As much as Rarity would have loved to have remained at the house and enjoy what may be her last moments in her old home, she couldn’t just sit idle. So, while her parents went about their respective tasks, she returned to where she’d ordered the Dust Devils. She found Misty Mane over in the stables proper, feeding some lizards their lunch.
Misty spotted her coming in and froze, eyes going wide. The reaction lasted only an instant, however, before she was all smiles once more. “Oh, Rarity! You’re back. S-sorry, your lizards aren’t quite ready.”
Rarity smiled in return, though she feared her weariness was on display. “That’s quite alright, Darling. Actually, I came to ask if you could hold them overnight. Things… aren’t going quite as planned.”
“Oh?” Misty’s ears folded back as her smile faded. She fidgeted and glanced around as if expecting an ambush. “So… So is it true?”
Her skittish manner was like a warning bell in Rarity’s head. Her eyes darted about the place, but as far as she could tell they were alone. “Is what true?”
“I heard that a posse attacked your parents’ place. Shot it to pieces.” Misty’s eyes dropped to Silver Lining with a mixture of fear and awe. “Rumor has it you killed them.”
“Oh, is that all?” Rarity breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes, it’s true. My, but word spreads fast, does it not?”
Misty’s jaw dropped, and it took her three tries to get any extra words out. “Y-you mean, you got into a gun fight? Against a dozen ponies? And won?”
With a dismissive sniff, she replied with a haughty, “Darling, I’ve faced far worse odds than that, and recently.” She caught herself rubbing her wound and promptly put both arms behind her back. Noting Misty’s ongoing gawking, she asked an uncertain, “What?”
Anxious eyes darted from the gun to her and back. Misty swallowed, licked her lips. “Rarity? Are you… the Bulletproof—?”
Rarity raised a finger. “Don’t say it!” She shuddered and shook her head firmly. “I despise that name.”
Misty staggered back, her eyes boggling. “S-so it’s true. You’re really her. You, that fashion-obsessed filly from school. This is surreal.”
“Surreal for you, maybe.” Rarity rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “For me it’s been a living nightmare.”
“A nightmare?” Misty grabbed Rarity’s shoulders and looked her in the eye. “Rarity, there are ponies out there who think you’re a hero!”
That gave her pause. Rarity stared at her old classmate, the word ‘hero’ echoing in her head. “They… do?”
“Of course.” A wide grin split Misty’s lips. “The Bulletproof Heart is the first drifter to gain fame all across Equestria since the Rainbow Gang! There are newspapers in Manehattan wondering about your identity. My baby cousin is talking about being a drifter like you when she grows up. Some ponies see you as an idol, leading the fight against—”
“Shut. Up.”
Misty froze, mouth half-open and eyebrows hidden in the locks of her silver mane. “Bwuh?”
Rarity felt that familiar ice building up within, but she wrestled it down into the bottom of her stomach. She refused to do to this pony what she’d already done to her mother. One embarrassment was enough. Fighting to keep her composure, she took a long step back, out of Misty’s grasp. She then did her level best to channel all her anger through her eyes as she spoke in a cool, even tone. “What was the first thing I confirmed to you?”
“Uh…” Hesitantly, Misty pointed at her. “That you’re the Bulletproof Heart?”
“Bandits were shooting at my house.” She took a moment to grind her teeth. Her left hand balled into a fist, the motion sending a fresh sting up her arm. She focused on that pain, flexing her fingers again and again. “My home, Misty. My family. Did you think I came here to bask in my own glory?”
Misty’s cheeks paled. “Oh. I, uh, didn’t realize…”
“Realize what?” Rarity hissed, once again shoving that bladed ice down. She was distinctly aware of her right hand on Silver Lining. “That ponies are trying to kill me? That every day I’m in fear for my life? That I spend my days sweaty, my nights freezing, and the entire time dirty?” She let out a growl that made her old classmate flinch back. “My life is a living Tartarus, Misty, and you’re telling me that ponies are celebrating this.”
“I’m sorry, okay?” Misty raised her hands high as if to offer a surrender. “I wasn’t thinking.”
“On that we can certainly agree.”
A pained grimace crossed her face. “I didn’t understand, Rarity. I’m just a stablemare. What do I know beyond sand lizards?”
The shards of ice lost a bit of their sharpness, but didn’t fade completely. It was at least enough to let Rarity relax her shoulders and take her grip off Silver Lining. She kept tensing and untensing her left fist though, willing the pain in her arm to melt some more of the ice. It helped, but only a little. With a sigh, she softened her expression and met Misty’s alarmed eyes. “My apologies, Darling. I have a nasty temperament of late. It comes with regular near-death experiences.”
Slowly, Misty lowered her arms. Her alarm faded to uncertainty, then at last a concerned frown. “Occupational hazard, huh?”
“Something like that.” Accepting that she would be spending the rest of the day frustrated, Rarity finally unclenched her fist and focused on the task at hand. “Let’s just forget it, please? I came here for a reason and I don’t want to argue with old friends.”
“Of course.” Misty tried to offer a smile, but it was blatantly forced. “Um, but you’ll let me make this up to you later, right?”
“I don’t intend to be in Mooisville long enough for that.” Seeing the pony’s disappointment, Rarity added, “That said, is there such a thing as a register for all the sand lizards in Mooisville?”
This made the stablemare’s ears rise. “You mean a ledger of lizards and their owners in the city? Yeah, they keep one at Town Hall. But what would you want that for?”
“My sister and close friend have been kidnapped,” she replied curtly. “I know it’s a long shot, but I’m hoping the Bad Apples had kept the lizards used in their escape in town.”
“Oh.” Misty considered this, all concern fading as she rubbed her chin with her thumb. “I dunno, Rarity. If you could identify the lizards then that’s one thing, but how is that going to… Wait, did you say Sweetie’s been kidnapped?”
“I’m reaching,” Rarity admitted with a grumble. “Mother and Father are out there trying to gather their own leads, but I can’t just sit at home and wait for them.”
Misty hummed and began to pace, her boots ringing on the wood floor. She absent-mindedly reached out to scratch under the neck frills of the lizard she’d been feeding a moment ago. “I can go get a copy of the ledger, that’s easy. Not fast, though. At this point, Town Hall will be closed by the time I get there. Best I can promise is morning tomorrow.”
That long? Rarity suppressed a groan and began flexing her fingers again. She’d already come to accept that she’d probably be spending a night in Mooisville, but still, this just added another delay, and that assumed the list could even do anything for her. “If that’s the best you can do, then fine. Do you think you could see if a pony named Full Steam owned any? I’d love to get an address.” Her eye caught a hint of blue, which she approached.
“Full Steam?”
Halfway to Cerulean, Rarity came to a pause. Misty had sounded… frightened. She turned from the sleeping lizard and found her old classmate’s face had gone white. “Yes, Full Steam. Have you heard of him?”
“Heard of him? Everypony in Mooisville knows him.” Misty began toying with her mane and looking around, as if she expected somepony to be listening in on their conversation. “He’s the fastest gun in town. Five sheriffs and six deputies are dead because of him. He runs a protection racket on the north side. He’s really bad news, and if you think you can fight him—”
“Earth pony? Lavender coat, black mane, big and bulky?”
Misty’s eyebrows shot up. “H-how did you—?”
“He’s dead,” Rarity curtly declared, turning back to Cerulean and stroking his scales just under the neck. He shifted in his sleep and began trilling pleasantly, making her smile. “I only hope that doesn’t bring even more of his ilk to my parents’ doorstep. At least, not until we’ve left.”
The sputtering sound behind her almost made her smile. Almost. “Y-you killed Full Steam? Rarity, that’s incredible.”
Realizing Cerulean wasn’t going to provide her much attention, she left him to his snoozing and approached Misty. “No, it was bloody and hectic and—” she raised her bandaged arm in demonstration “—painful. But it’s done, one way or another. I trust you know where my parents live?”
Staring as though dazed, Misty nodded slowly.
“Good, then I expect you there tomorrow morning with the ledger. You have my appreciation, and more of it should you keep what we’ve discussed between us, at least until my family and I have left town. Do you think you can do that?”
Another slow, stunned nod. “Yeah. I can do that.”
“Excellent! I’ll see you then, Darling. Tata!”
She tried not to look in a hurry when she left, but the moment she’d turned the street corner she broke into a jog and let her smile fall. Rarity’s mind was frantic with the implications of her conversation. She’d murdered a notorious figure known all across Mooisville. The fact he worked for the Bad Apples was problem enough, but with this news? Ponies would find out. Ponies had already found out! Others might come for her, and they would know precisely where to look.
She couldn’t stay the night at her parents’. Her parents couldn’t stay the night at her parents’. Something would happen, certainly. But she couldn’t go anywhere until they came back from their errands. Would somepony show up before they got home? The next group might have more ponies, and she doubted she could withstand another attack of the same scale.
Her eyes drifted to the ponies and zebras in the street. Was she being watched? She couldn’t tell, couldn’t trust her eyes. She needed a way to hide in plain sight. An inn, perhaps. No, too obvious, they might check those. Rarity didn’t know how deep the Bad Apples were embedded in this town, but she didn’t want to take any chances.
Fear and worries echoed in her head all the way home. Solutions steadfastly refused to make themselves known. There had to be one, but Rarity couldn’t think of anything! If only she had some friends…
For the second time that day, Rarity came to a stop in a familiar alleyway. Post Script’s place to her left. Old Mare Scrutiny’s to her right.
“In plain sight…”
After checking to ensure the alley was empty, she hurried to the door on her right and knocked lightly. She had to knock two more times, each after long periods of anxious fidgeting, before the latch finally sounded and the door opened a crack. A bespectacled earth pony, tan with a neatly combed brown mane, peered at her from the shadows. “Can I help you?”
“Oh. I’m sorry, I was hoping Mrs. Scrutiny would be…” Her words failed her as she examined the young stallion’s face and that ridiculous green bowtie. “Gizmo?”
“Umm… yes?” He hesitated, eyes checking the street. “Do I know you?”
That squirrelly voice couldn’t be imitated. Rarity grinned and pressed a hand to her chest. “Gizmo, it’s me, Rarity. I was two years your senior in school, remember?”
The door squeaked open a fraction more. Gizmo poked his head out the door to get a better look. “Rarity?” He focused closely on her face, taking in her smile. At last, his eyes lit up in recognition and he opened the door wide. “Rarity! By Celestia’s Mane, it’s been an eternity. When did you get home?”
A wave of relief washed over her. Perhaps this idea wasn’t so far fetched after all. “This morning, actually. I’m sure you heard the noise.”
“Noise?” He cocked his head. “I did hear there was a gunfight, but I was out at the time.” His lack of concern over the rumor was almost as telling as the deputies’ nonchalance earlier. Bowing his head, he abruptly noticed Silver Lining on her hip. “Wait, that was you?”
“Indeed.” Rarity pursed her lips and tried glancing past him into the shadowed house. “Why are you in Old Mare Scrutiny’s place?”
“Uh, because she’s my grandmother?”
“Oh? I had no idea.” Should she feel guilty for that? After all, Mrs. Scrutiny had been her neighbor all her life. How could she have not known? “I was hoping to ask for her assistance with a matter most delicate.”
He stared at her, his expression neutral. That proved most frustrating; she needed his cooperation, not his suspicion. His eyes darted to Silver Lining for an instant. “You’re not getting my grandmother into any trouble, are you?”
Rarity hesitated. She had to admit, it was a proper question given the circumstances. “I will do everything in my power to ensure that doesn’t happen. But the help is desperately needed, that I can assure you.”
He stepped away, a scowl forming on his face. “No. I’m not putting grandma at risk.”
She caught the door with her hoof before he could close it. “Wait. Gizmo, please. My family is on the line. Surely she’d be willing to at least see me?”
If anything, his expression grew even more dark. “My grandma hasn’t seen anything in three years, and you’ve been gone longer than that. You can’t bat your eyes to get me to do your bidding this time. Now get outta the door.”
Resisting his attempts to force the door closed was easy. Thinking of a way to get her point across was not. Ignoring his grunting and curses, she allowed herself a moment to consider who she was speaking to. “Gizmo… I understand you want to protect your grandmother.” She caught his chin with her magic, forcing him to look her in the eyes. “So please think about my situation. I know I was a bit of a diva before, and I apologize if my antics caused you heartache, but right now I’m asking you to forget that. There are ponies out to kill me and my family, and they will do so if I can’t find a place to hide them for one night. That’s all I’m looking for. If you can’t accommodate me, that’s fine. I’ll try to think of something else.”
She reached out to grasp his shoulder. He froze at the contact, his cheeks abruptly going pink. The sight would have once filled her mind with opportunities and guilty pleasure, but now she only felt a quiet hope. “Your grandmother and my parents have been friends a long time. I am asking, from the bottom of my heart: help them stay alive. Even if only for one night.”
He narrowed his gaze, seemed to consider. But then he shook his head roughly, breaking her magical hold. “I’m sorry, but—”
“Gizmo! Who’s that at the door?”
With a grimace, he stepped back to look deeper in the house, though he still blocked Rarity’s path. “Nopony important, grandma. It’s just— You should be in bed!”
“Don’t sass me, young colt,” an aged, biting voice countered. “This is still my home, and that means I get to decide what visitors are and ain’t important. Now git outta my way before I whip you with Woody!” The clunk of wood on wood resounded, making Gizmo flinch.
“But Grandma, you know the doctor said for you to take it easy for a while. Just let me—” He yelped and jumped back as a cane swung past his face, missing by only inches. “Okay, okay! Watch the glasses, they cost almost as much as your medical bills.”
“And don’t you forget who paid for them glasses,” Mrs. Scrutiny growled.
“I did. Ow!”
Rarity couldn’t help giggling; blind or no, Old Mare Scrutiny hadn’t changed a bit. She hobbled into the doorframe, cane tapping lightly. A yellow unicorn with a wiry, loose-hanging pink mane, she peered Rarity’s way with foggy grey eyes. “Oooh, now there’s a giggle I’d recognize anywhere. Pretty as a bell, so that must be Miss Rarity Belle.”
Balking, Rarity asked, “You remember me by my voice alone?”
The elderly, wrinkled mare chuckled throatily. “Young missy, you and y’er sister used to run all up and down these streets, laughing and playing and making a ruckus. Years I listened to that sound while in here, making my bread and sewing my thread. Of course I remember you.” Her ears swiveled around for a moment as if in search of something. They stopped, and she thrust her came over her shoulder, whacking something behind the door.
Gizmo cursed. “Dang it, Grandma! What was that one for?”
“For calling young Miss Belle here unimportant! Don’t ya know I taught this filly everything I know? She’s practically family.” Mrs. Scrutiny promptly turned her attention back to Rarity. “You need to be careful out there, Miss Belle. I heard gunshots this morning, and for all we know the hoodlums are still around. Neighborhood got dangerous since you left.”
The warning made Rarity cringe. “Actually, that was me. My family’s in a lot of trouble, Mrs. Scrutiny, and I was dearly hoping you could assist us.”
“You?” The mare laughed out loud, banging her cane against the floor as she did. “That’s the silliest thing I ever did hear! As if a sweet thing like you’d ever fire a gun.”
Rarity wasn’t sure how to take that. Annoyed, because the mare didn’t believe her? Or maybe disappointed, since she was right: the Rarity she knew never would have even touched a gun, much less fired one. She idly wondered if the coming truth would lessen her image in the old mare’s ey... opinion. The idea left a sour taste in her mouth, for there were few ponies she respected quite as much as Old Mare Scrutiny.
But the truth had to come out, so she stiffened her shoulders and stood tall. “I’m afraid this isn’t a joke. A posse of outlaws shot up my parents’ home, and I was barely able to fend them off.”
Mrs. Scrutiny seemed to be waiting for a punchline, her grin was so wide. But as the seconds passed and Rarity said nothing more, her smile gradually faded. When she finally spoke, it was with a quiet, calm seriousness. “Was anypony hurt?”
Despite the mare’s blindness, Rarity hid her arm behind herself. “No, we’re fine. But more of them may come, so we’ll need a place to hide until morning.”
Gizmo appeared by his grandmother, his voice soothing but his eyes menacing. “I was just telling Ms. Belle that we couldn’t possibly—”
“Tell your family they can hide here for the night.”
“G-Grandma!” The young stallion flexed his fingers as if in hopes of strangling somepony. “What if whoever did that finds out? I can help you around the house, but I can’t defend you against a gang of gun-toting maniacs!”
The old mare sighed, her expression weary. “You’re a good one, Gizzy, and don’t think I don’t appreciate what you do for me. But Rarity’s family has been good to me too, and I ain’t about to turn my back on ‘em.”
He looked at the back of his grandmother’s head, then to Rarity. He had the expression of someone caught in a corner with no idea how to escape. He hemmed and hawed, and the mares said nothing in the meantime. At last, Gizmo shot Rarity a pleading look. “You promise me they won’t find out?”
With the most comforting smile she could manage, she replied, “I will do everything in my power to keep that from happening.” She wasn’t about to make a promise she might not be able to keep. She’d made too many of them already.
Gizmo narrowed his eyes at her and opened his mouth, but closed it when his grandmother rapped her cane against the floor. “Good enough for me. Come on in, Rarity, before somepony sees you. You and my stubborn grandcolt can keep an eye on your place from the kitchen window.”
Mrs. Scrutiny’s home wasn’t very large, even considering she lived alone. The hallway was cramped, made more so by an end table against one wall with an antique lamp. The kitchen was also the living room, with just enough space for the three ponies to mill about in comfort, but it wouldn’t be so when Rarity’s parents arrived. One door in the kitchen led to a toilet while another led to the main bedroom. Back in the hall was a door to a second, slightly smaller bedroom. And that was the lump sum of the old mare’s living space.
She cracked her cane a second time. “Gizmo, be a good lad and make the guest bedroom presentable for Miss Belle’s parents, would you please?” She turned her misty eyes in Rarity’s vague direction. “I hope you don’t mind the couch. This old place isn’t exactly the mayor’s manor.”
As a grumbling Gizmo went to tend to his newfound duty, Rarity smiled and set a hand on Mrs. Scrutiny’s arm. “Compared to the places I’ve had to sleep in the last couple seasons, the couch will feel like Elysium. Thank you very much.”
With audible popping in her withered joints, Mrs. Scrutiny sat herself down at the kitchen table. No sooner was she settled than a frustrated frown decorated her face. “Oh, horseapples, I meant to make tea.”
“Don’t you worry about that,” Rarity declared, already opening the cabinets. “I may have been gone for nearly seven years, but I still remember my way around your kitchen.” She went about making the black tea the old mare enjoyed so much. Rarity herself thought it nasty, but she always drank it in the past. She had assumed it wouldn’t be nice to refuse the old mare’s kind offer.
Things were quiet for a while. It wasn’t until Rarity had poured them both a cup – with a third for Gizmo, just in case – that Mrs. Scrutiny spoke again. “What went wrong?”
Halfway sat in the chair opposite her, Rarity paused. “Whatever do you mean?”
“Don’t play dumb with me, girl.” Mrs. Scrutiny felt out the steam in the air with her hand, then followed it to her cup. She held it up, but didn’t drink. “I was born a lot earlier than yesterday. My little Rarity was always a proud, headstrong thing, but she was a filly of dresses and sewing and culture. Now I learn you’re carrying around a gun, and proficient enough with it to fend off a horde of bandits.” A gentle blowing on the tea to cool it down. “A mare has to question why the pleasant little girl she knew would be hunted by bandits.”
A long, slow sip.
“So what happened? Where is that precious little filly I taught how to sew, who cried if her dress got a little dirty?”
Always with the questions. Rarity didn’t even feel annoyed anymore. Too bad annoyance hadn’t taken misery along with it. “She’s gone, and I don’t know if she’ll ever come back.” Leaning so she could look through the window shutters, she wondered about that old her. “I never reached Manehattan, but the last six years were… decent enough for me, I suppose. The gunfighting and running for my life is a fairly new turn.”
The old mare hummed quietly. “It’s a shame that you came back after these old eyes turned bad. I’d have loved to see the mare you’ve become.”
“No, you wouldn’t.” Rarity glanced at her, guilt creeping into her mind to join the sadness. “I’m not all dresses and proper etiquette anymore, Mrs. Scrutiny. I daresay you wouldn’t even recognize me.”
Mrs. Scrutiny snorted, her cup hitting her saucer with a bit of force. “You think I loved having you around because of your dresses and primness? Hah! Filly, you had spunk. Ya might have been polite and generous to an old mare, but it was your guts and go-get-em attitude that made you so special.”
Rarity stared at her. “I had no idea you felt that way.”
“Well, I do!” The mare slapped her leg before pointing in Rarity’s general direction. “That’s why when you tell me you whipped a bunch of stinkin’ bandits all on your own, I not only believe it, I’m dang proud! You don’t need dresses and a bath to impress this old biddy. I always knew you had the potential to be a royal fireball someday, and it does this withered heart some good to know that faith was justified.”
A warmth filled Rarity at this praise. She realized she was grinning, and did nothing to stop it. “Well, I’m glad somepony out there sees something positive out of all this.” And just like that, the warmth faded. “I certainly don’t.”
Another quiet hum from Mrs. Scrutiny. “That’s alright. I imagine times have been tough for you. But someday you’ll look back on all this and realize it’s not such a bad thing.”
Rarity had no idea how she could ever think that, but made no attempt to argue. Instead, she let the silence linger and focused on watching the back door of her house through the window. Mrs. Scrutiny had a perfect view of their backyard. She could see herself, smaller and more care free, running around in the grass with her little sister toddling after her. There’d been so many days when she’d wandered her way over to this house.
She’d learned how to sew in this very chair. She took a moment to feel the wood of the backrest, eyeing the knots and nails and lumps. The scent of black tea danced in her nostrils, the pale light from the window illuminating a million little motes of dust across the room. Absently, she took the teacup and sipped. The bitter, strong taste was like being struck with a hammer on the tongue, and yet it made her smile for its familiarity.
She’d missed this place. And old Mrs. Scrutiny. And this view and sewing a simple scarf and her parents and Sweetie and—
“It’s okay, Rarity.”
She looked up to find Mrs. Scrutiny smiling at her. It was a warm, welcoming expression. Only now did she realize her hands were trembling. She hurried to set the teacup down. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you mean.”
“It’s okay to feel nostalgic.” The old mare took another, longer sip. “And okay to be afraid. It’s good that you came back, even if it’s only for a little bit.” Her smile quirked up a tiny fraction on one side, becoming a smirk. “And you don’t have to drink that nasty oil if you don’t want to.”
Rarity’s cheeks burned like the sun. “I n-never said…”
“Oh, stop it.” The old mare laughed at her sputtering. “You think I never heard you complaining about my tea? I waited years to hear you finally admit how much you hated it, but you never did.” She sobered quickly, though the smile didn’t fade. “You always were the considerate type.”
She turned her head, leading Rarity to do the same. Gizmo stood in the doorway, looking for all the world like he’d just kicked a puppy and got caught. “Th-the room’s ready.” He fiddled with his glasses, cleaning them against his shirt despite there not being a speck of dirt on them. “I’ll help keep watch now, if that’s alright.”
“That’ll do,” Mrs. Scrutiny replied softly. “And later, we can make some nice tomato soup. My own recipe. You liked that one, right, Rarity?”
“That would be wonderful,” Rarity admitted, her eyes not leaving Gizmo. She was determined to convey her appreciation for his help through her gaze. Whether it worked or not, she couldn’t say. After a moment’s silence, he took a chair and sat so that he could keep an eye on the house with her. He didn’t look at her, but by his fidgeting she suspected it was more to do with guilt than anything.
After so much time passed with no conversation, Mrs. Scrutiny finally spoke up. “So, why don’t you tell us how you went about becoming a gunfighter?”
Rarity heaved a long sigh; she was getting tired of recounting this.
Rarity was midway through the process of cleaning Ruby Heart when Gizmo spoke up. “Your dad just went inside.”
She looked up from the assorted parts lying on the table, taking a glance at the clock as she did. “Of course, this happens when I’m only half-armed.” She examined the pieces – there were always fewer than she expected – and pondered putting the gun back together half-cleaned. Ruby Heart would undoubtedly work just fine that way, but if she stopped now would she remember to finish the job later?
With a heavy sigh, she put the gun back together. It only took a minute, and then only because she still wasn’t accustomed to the task. This was only the third time she’d bothered since first learning in Rockstead. Bullet Harvest had explained that it wasn’t necessary to clean them so often, but Rarity wanted at least one thing in her life to be fastidiously unsoiled. As much as it pained her to admit it, it most certainly wouldn’t be herself.
Gizmo watched her work, fascination and apprehension fighting for control of his expression. “I still can’t get over the fact you know how to do that.”
“I’m a mare of many talents.” The ammo cartridge slid home with a click, and the gun was set in its harness. She stood and looked him up and down. “Go ahead and tell them.”
He flinched, eyeing her house through the window. “Are you sure this is the best idea?”
She found his lack of faith… disturbing. Still, she couldn’t really blame him. As she’d learned in the last few hours, Gizmo was just an accountant. He didn’t know a thing about gunfighting and bandits and the struggle to survive. What he was about to do was simple, and not dangerous at all, but the knowledge of who might be watching had him more than a little on edge.
“I’ll be watching the entire time,” she replied with what she hoped was an encouraging smile. “It’s just a little walk.”
“That’s easy enough for you to say,” he grumbled. Nevertheless, he left the room, and she took up her position by the window. The world had become a rosy red with the sunset, a testament to how long she’d been waiting. Gizmo appeared, jogging through the yard to knock on her parents’ back door. The poor stallion kept fidgeting and adjusting his glasses, and looked her way more than once. Every time he did, she imagined slapping him on the back of the head for giving her away.
At last, her father answered the door. He invited Gizmo in, and the door closed. Now all Rarity could do was wait. It was an uncomfortable quiet that accompanied her, broken only by the soft snores of Mrs. Scrutiny in the nearby bedroom. She kept her eyes on the streets, trying to find any sign of Apple Gang spies, but the few ponies walking through didn’t seem interested in her old home.
It wasn’t long before Gizmo left the house and returned. Rarity frowned upon seeing him alone, but was patient. At her querying gaze, he said, “He wants to wait for your mom to get in. Less suspicious if they come over together, rather than us going back and forth a half-dozen times.”
That appealed to her, so Rarity offered no complaints. She returned to her vigil, half-expecting her mother to show up at any moment. The shadows grew long and the light faded. Gizmo woke his grandmother and began making dinner to her specifications. Rarity paid them little mind, her eyes always focused on her parents’ house. What was taking her mother so long?
At last, just as the soup was about ready, Rarity saw the back door of the house open. Her mother stepped outside first – she must have come home via the front door – followed by her father. The two appeared perfectly nonchalant as they crossed the road and entered the alleyway to Mrs. Scrutiny’s door, carrying a couple large baskets each. Rarity couldn’t help but be pleased by their relaxed manner.
She stayed in the kitchen while Gizmo went to the door. As soon as her mother entered the room, she went to give the elder mare a strong hug. “I was starting to worry about you.”
“Nonsense, I can take care of myself.” Her mother smiled and returned the motion, using her magic to place her baskets in the corner. “I just had to take care of a few things. We are going to be leaving town for a long time, after all.”
That certainly made sense. Rarity should have expected them to want to get their affairs in order, and they’d only had a day to do so. Half, actually. Setting that concern aside, she looked from her mother to her father, allowing hope into her voice. “Is there any news about Sweetie and Coco?”
Her father heaved a heavy sigh. “I’ve got nothing. Well, not nothing, but nothing regarding where they went.” He reached into one of his baskets and pulled out a large, brown sack. “That big gun of yours is a 45, right?”
“Yes?” She accepted the bag, startled by its heft, and took a look inside. She gasped at a vast collection of ammunition boxes. “Papa, where did you get this?”
“Stole them from the factory.” At Rarity’s gaping, he shrugged. “Yeah, I’ve been working at a munitions factory for about five years now. Better pay than owning my old pawn shop. More reliable, too.”
Her mother flicked his ear with a finger playfully, making him flinch. “I think she’s more concerned about the ‘stealing’ part, dear.”
“Oh, right.” He chuckled and rubbed his moustache. “We’re gonna be on the run anyway, right? Hay, might never come back here. Nopony will know where they went, and I’d rather them get to you than to some Apple prick looking to blow my daughter’s head off.”
Rarity groaned as she set the sack down on the table. “By Luna’s Stars, I’m turning my family into criminals.”
“Don’t be so dramatic,” he countered mildly, sitting himself down on a traveling trunk Gizmo had pulled out of storage to serve as a makeshift chair. “It’s just the one time, and it’s to keep my daughter alive. I think that makes it okay.”
“I don’t.” Yet, as Rarity observed the significant amount of ammunition, she permitted herself to smile. “But I appreciate it anyway. Provided they can’t trace the theft back to you?”
He smirked at her query. “Not a chance. This came from some crates already packed for delivery. The worst that’ll happen is the recipient will think the company’s shortchanged them, and the company’s records will back that up. It’ll mean hell for my boss, but she’s a little witch anyway.”
“Enough yammerin’,” Mrs. Scrutiny snapped as she settled herself down at the table. “There’s tomato soup waiting, prepared by my little chef of a grandson, and it won’t be half as good with you three delayin’ dinner.”
At their host’s command, the three guests prepared to enjoy their meal. Rarity tried to take the opportunity to forget her worries. After all, this may be the last chance she’d get to have dinner with her parents in a long time… if at all. She needed to make the most of it.
Yet no matter what, she couldn’t stop thinking about Sweetie and Coco.
Rarity awoke with a stifled cry, one hand reaching between her tightly clamped legs and the other for Silver Lining. The latter was not where it was supposed to be. Where was it? She never slept without it! The Bad Apples might have—
A gentle voice shushed her and a soft hand brushed her mane back from her face before resting, cool and comforting, on her forehead. Only now did Rarity realize she was still lying on the couch, safe in Mrs. Scrutiny’s modest home. Somehow, her mother had managed to sit there with Rarity’s head in her lap. The middle-aged mare smiled down at her child. “It’s alright, Rarity. It was just a dream.”
Just a dream. A horrible, ugly dream that made her feel so dirty she might never get the stain out. Rarity could still feel the hands of dozens of stallions and mares groping her from all directions. And now, to think of her mother watching her while that atrocity was going through her brain…
Her eyes began to burn and her throat constricted. She turned to bury her face in her mother’s belly, her fingers clenching the mare’s shirt. “I’m s-sorry I’m such a disappointment.”
Her mother continued to stroke her mane, not saying anything for a time. The silence could only be a confirmation of Rarity’s worst fears. Perhaps she should just walk away now and spare her mother the pain of being associated with her. She’d save Sweetie Belle and bring her back, of course, but that would be the end of it. Let them have the younger daughter, the one not sullied by bullets and blood and licentious mares. They could forget all about her, and with her blessing.
“Oh, my dear, sweet Rarity,” her mother whispered in the darkness. “What has this world done to you?”
The words were kind, but Rarity couldn’t help hearing them as an admonishment. She curled up a little, holding her mother all the tighter. She had no words to describe the guilt crushing her lungs. At least here, nestled against the mare who’d raised her, she could have the illusion of forgiveness and safety again.
“I remember the day you left us so vividly,” her mother whispered, her fingers entwining with Rarity’s mane. “Eighteen years old, and already thinking you were the master of the world. I was scared, but I couldn’t say no. I gave you my blessing, because I knew you’d go with or without it. You seemed so confident, so eager to get away. We just didn’t have what you needed, did we?”
Rarity listened through her malaise. Did her mother blame herself for Rarity’s downfall? That wouldn’t do, but she couldn’t conjure up the willpower to raise her head, much less correct the record.
“Your father…” She chuckled faintly. “He was up all night for over a week, pacing ‘round the house and checking outside. Forgot about everything. He was so sure that the instant you realized the journey to Manehattan would be spent without access to a bathtub you’d come crying back to his protective embrace. But me? I knew better.
“You’re a tough mare. I was always proud of that, partially because I felt you got it from me. No inconvenience, major or minor, would keep you from trying.” With a wistful sigh, she hugged Rarity’s head closer to her middle. “Today, my confidence in you was rewarded. You’re not a disappointment. I saw my daughter, Hondo’s little princess, stand her ground and face death. You’re brave, strong, willful and protective. You’re hurting, and you’re scared, but regardless I am still more proud of you now than I have ever been of anything in my life.”
The tears were staining her mother’s shirt. Rarity wanted to apologize, but more important matters were at hand. “How can you say that?” she whispered, still unable to look up from the comforting darkness of her mother’s belly. “I’m m-making you leave home. I’ve killed ponies. Sweetie and Coco are gone because of me, and that… that mare…”
“Hush.” Her mother patted her shoulder, almost like a lecturing slap, but far too gentle to amount to anything. “And you got your father’s frustrating need to take the blame and feel guilty. I do wish I could do something about that, but you always were a daddy’s girl.”
Despite her ongoing misery, Rarity allowed a little smile to curl her lips. “He spoiled me rotten, didn’t he?”
“He did, the fool.” Her mother chuckled once more, relaxing her hold a little. “I don’t love him any less for it, though.”
Rarity felt no inclination to get up from her comfortable position, but she at least allowed herself to shift onto her back and look up at her mother’s sad, yet smiling visage. “Having my mother comfort me after a nightmare. I’m so childish, aren’t I?”
“There’s nothing wrong with needing comfort, or letting the weight of it all hold you down for a little while.” Once more, her mother set her hand on Rarity’s forehead. “What kind of a mother would I be if I got upset with you over it? If anything, I’m glad to be able to do this for you once again. It reminds me of old times.” She leaned back to stare at the ceiling, the soft smile not leaving her face. “Always the strong one, but so sensitive too.”
“I hate having to be strong,” Rarity muttered. She reached up to toy with her mother’s pinkie finger, like she used to do as a child. “If only there was a way, I’d go back in time and make sure I never, ever left. It’s one of the worst decisions I ever made.”
“I wouldn't.” Her mother met her eyes, and her expression filled Rarity with a heartening warmth. “I’ve missed you these seven years, true, but in that time you’ve become far more than the daughter who left her family’s comforting embrace. You’re stronger than ever.” Her smile faded. “Although I do wish that strength hadn’t come from so much pain.”
Rarity considered this for a time. “In truth, six of those seven years weren’t so bad. I had to start from scratch in a new town that was a far cry from Manehattan, but I built myself up into a respectable businessmare within those limitations. Hay, I was downright wealthy. The only thing that kept me there, aside from the rustic charm of the place, was a fear that…” She hesitated, but a prolonged look from her mother pried her lips open. Averting her gaze, she concluded, “I was afraid that you and Papa wouldn’t forgive me for abandoning you like I did.”
“I thought that might be the case.” Her mother stared at the darkened room, her expression wistful. “You were forgiven long ago, Rarity. We were only happy that you were safe.”
Fidgeting, Rarity at last allowed herself to sit up. Rubbing sleep from her eyes, she faced her mother properly with head bowed. “Still, I am sorry. I should have done more than just write you a letter every season or two. I was a poor excuse for a daughter… and a sister.”
Her mother studied her, then smiled. “Well, you’re certainly making up for that now, aren’t you? Blazing across the desert like a wild buffalo to protect us. I think you’re well on your way to ‘good daughter’ status.”
Rarity could feel a smirk coming unbidden to her lips. “But not quite there yet, I presume?”
With a scoff, her mother raised her head high and crossed her arms. “Not quite. You’ve still got some things to do.” Her manner softened immediately, concern taking control of her gaze. “Like stay alive. No parents should bury their child. I don’t know what will happen in the future, what with all this excitement, but promise me you’ll do everything in your power to stay safe.” Her eyes lingered on Rarity’s bandaged arm. She sucked in a sharp breath. “Just seeing that is enough to frighten.”
Self-consciously, Rarity rubbed the wound and looked away. “I know. I promise, I won’t go down easy.” She hadn’t yet.
“Good.” The barest hint of a smile returned to her mother’s face. “Your father would be insufferable otherwise.”
Quiet passed between them, interrupted only by the soft snores of Mrs. Scrutiny in her room. As the moment lingered into awkwardness, Rarity peered through the dark at the clock on the wall. It was early morning, perhaps an hour before the sun was to come up. They wouldn’t get much more time for sleeping; come morning, they would wait for any news from her parents’ contacts, and if nothing came by noon her parents would have to go.
Her mother’s whisper interrupted her thoughts. “I know where you need to go next.”
Rarity stared at the mare, not confident in her own hearing. “What was that?”
Hesitantly, she said, “There is a trading town in the west, in the foothills of the Sunpeaks. Bitter Ergot. Coco and Sweetie are being taken to Seaddle through there.”
Frustration. Indignation. Outright anger. All would have been appropriate responses. Instead, Rarity only felt weary and concerned. “Why did you not tell me this right away?”
Her mother didn’t meet her gaze. “Because I knew the instant I did, you’d saddle up and leave, maybe never to return. I needed…” Tears welled in her eyes. “I needed to have a private moment with my daughter. I needed to be your mother one more time. I know it was selfish, but…”
As tears created small rivers down her cheeks, Rarity closed the gap between them and held her mother tight. She couldn’t say she fully understood, but she would not begrudge her mother her actions. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “I’ll deal with it, and I’ll come back with Sweetie and Coco in tow. So please, don’t cry.” Please don’t. It hurts worse than a bullet in the arm.
“I c-can’t help it,” her mother hissed, squeezing Rarity in return. “My little girl is being held hostage by a bunch of bandits, and my elder daughter is about to go galloping off to another hail of bullets, acting like the hero she is. How am I supposed to be okay with that, Rarity? How am I supposed to keep your father together when I’m barely hanging on?”
“I don’t know.” Rarity pressed their foreheads together, fighting back tears of her own. “I wish I knew. But we’ll pull through this, Mother. I promise, this isn’t the last you’ll see of me, and I will bring Sweetie back.”
A sniff. A whimper. Her mother’s grip loosened just a little. “Y-you wouldn’t lie to your mother, would you?”
“Of course not.” Giving her another squeeze, Rarity started to stand. “I’m sorry, but I have to go. You’ll tell Papa I love him, won’t you?”
Sucking down a sob, her mother scrubbed her eyes clean. “He won’t be happy with you. You could wake him.”
It was a tempting thought, and she almost caved to it. She fidgeted, still holding her mother’s hands as she gazed upon the closed guest room door. At last, she replied, “No, let him sleep. It’s hard enough having to walk away from you. I don’t think he’d let me go without a fight, and Sweetie and Coco don’t have the luxury of waiting.”
Despite her flushed cheeks and glassy eyes, her mother chuckled. “Darn, you figured him out. I guess I won’t get to watch the fireworks after all.”
“I want you to leave as soon as possible.” She gave her mother’s hands another squeeze for emphasis. “Go south, across the Great Salt Plains. There’s a town in the eastern foothills of the Dragon’s Teeth, Rockstead. I have friends there, the Pie Sisters, who should be able to provide you room and board until I can meet you there with Sweetie and Coco.” She wasn’t sure if it was okay to impose upon Maud and Marble like that, but she had no other ideas.
“We’ll go,” her mother said. “Even if I have to drag your father kicking and screaming the whole way. Get your sister back, Rarity, and make sure you’re whole and well when you do.”
Rarity couldn’t promise to be ‘whole and well’, but she would get Sweetie back. She leaned forward to kiss her mother’s forehead. With one last squeeze of the fingers, she stepped away. “I’m going. I…” A moment to fidget and glance at the closed guest room door. She distracted herself by gathering her gear. Once fully laden she looked to the couch. Her mother hadn’t moved, only watched her prepare with folded ears and slumped shoulders.
Her heart begged her to stay a little longer, to ease that subtly distraught face. Instead, she whispered a quiet “goodbye” and left the dark house. She fought down the tears in her eyes and the sick feeling in her gut. They wouldn’t help Sweetie or Coco. She had a job to do. She’d feel sorry for herself later.
She just hoped her father would forgive her.