It took ten minutes to meet Sweetie and break her heart. It takes twice as long for Sunset to calm down at home. She breathes, and stresses, and screams into her pillow, and copes as best as she can.
It's not until seven – past the time of her reservation – that Sunset's calm enough to get ready for dinner. She hastily showers, changes into black slacks and a sports coat, throws on her geode as an afterthought, and sweeps out the door at a quarter past the hour without drying or brushing her hair. By the time she arrives outside La Bouche, it's nearly a quarter to eight.
Cheerilee has been waiting for an hour.
Inside, Sunset sees gilded seats and immaculate tablecloths draped over tables lit by long, red candles. Cheerilee's sitting at the back of the dining room room, beside an alcove leading to the restrooms, applying fresh lipstick with a compact mirror in one hand.
Cheerilee eyes track Sunset's approach. She snaps the compact shut, replaces it and the lipstick in her purse, and folds her hands on the table.
Sunset smiles tiredly. "Hey. Sorry I kept you waiting." She kisses Cheerilee on the top of her head and takes the seat opposite her.
"You said you wouldn't be late." Cheerilee quickly appraises Sunset. "You're a mess."
"You know that thing we talked about?" Sunset brushes a hand through her hair – still damp from the shower. "It ended up taking a weird turn. I needed some time to process it."
"Sorry for dragging you away from your 'processing,'" says Cheerilee under her breath.
"Somehow, I'll cope." There are two menus on the table; Sunset picks one and scans the list of entrees disinterestedly. "Did you order yet?"
"Who was it?"
Sunset looks up, startled. Cheerilee comes into focus. "What?"
Cheerilee leans back, folding her arms crossly.
Sunset freezes. Love for Cheerilee vies with loyalty to Sweetie Belle, to preserving her dignity. "You said you didn't want to know."
"Well, I had a lot of time to think about it while waiting, and I changed my mind." Cheerilee crosses her legs. "I want to know who it was, and what happened to make you such a mess that you needed an hour just to clean up."
Sunset senses the accusation and fights to keep her flaring temper in check. "I don't even want to think about it right now, much less talk about—"
"Who was it? What did you say to them? What happened between you two?"
"Where is this coming from?" Sunset snaps, her temper winning out. "I already told you, I don't—"
"Ma'am? Um, ma'ams?"
The lovers divert their attention to a young, hapless waiter. He holds a notepad, sweating.
"May I interest you in, um... we have a lovely..."
Sunset's glare is withering. Cheerilee's expression hasn't changed, as it already conveys annoyance perfectly well.
“...Perhaps I should come back later." The waiter sheepishly meanders away, throwing occasional glances over his shoulder.
"Geez, kid, learn to read a room," Sunset mutters. She drops the menu on the table, and looks back at Cheerilee. Lowering her voice, she hisses, "What has gotten into you tonight?"
"My girlfriend was late to our anniversary dinner, because she was gallivanting about with someone else." Cheerilee rolls her eyes. "No, you're right. There's nothing wrong with that."
"Gallivant—" Sunset laughs harshly. "Did a paper ball nail you too hard in the back of your head today? Do you remember anything that we talked about in the last twenty-four hours?"
"I remember you being far too eager to get that envelope."
"What are you implying? Huh, Cheerilee? You think I'm cheating on you; is that it?"
"Your words," Cheerilee growls. "Not mine."
Sunset barks another harsh laugh that turns patrons' heads toward her table. "What could I have possibly done to make you think I'd ever cheat?"
"You never had to do anything. It just stands to reason that you'd seize the opportunity to trade up." Cheerilee scoffs and glances out the window, shaking her head. "What could a girl like you possibly want with someone like me, unless you couldn't do any better?"
"This is insane." Sunset's words, rooted in anger, are underscored by a desperate plea. "I didn't cheat, Cheerilee. I'd never cheat!"
Cheerilee's gaze flits back to Sunset. "Do me a favor and be honest with me. Because I am being honest with you."
A thousand responses rush through Sunset's mind – words of defense, of retaliation, questioning why she'd say it was a love letter if she was planning to cheat anyway. That seems good – she wonders how it'd sound out loud.
But what would be the point? I'm guilty in her eyes already.
"I don't know who you are right now," says Sunset, instead. "You're not acting like yourself. You're acting irrational; you're acting like... a teenager. Like..."
Something clicks for Sunset.
She peers closely at Cheerilee. In contrast to Sunset, she's cleaned up rather nicely. She's wearing the skirt and top from last year's prom; the significance of the outfit isn't lost on Sunset at all. Her hair washed and brushed, and her make-up modest. But her lipstick...
"Maybe I'm being honest about who I am."
"Be honest with me. Because I am being honest with you."
"Rarity has that same lipstick."
Cheerilee raises an immaculately plucked eyebrow. "It would be one of them, wouldn't it?"
Sunset snaps back to the moment. "That isn't what I'm—"
Some commotion from the restroom cuts her off. A man bursts out, his pants unbuttoned and his shirt half tucked in. The hapless waiter haplessly approaches; the man is frantic, wild-eyed, as they speak in hushed tones.
Suspicion grows inside Sunset. She pushes away from the table, and rises.
"Don't you dare walk away from me, Sunset Shimmer!"
Sunset's jaw tightens. She can feel Cheerilee's eyes on her as she heads toward the bathroom. The men's voices gradually come into focus.
"...Just calm down, please. I'll get the manager, and—"
"Manager?! Get the police! There's a pervert in the bathroom!"
"Hi, sorry to interrupt," Sunset interrupts. Both men look at her – the man thoughtfully, the waiter haplessly.
"I know you," the man says. "You work at Super Sushi, don't you?"
"Used to play in a band, too." Fame could be so fleeting. "What's this about a pervert?"
The waiter leans close to Sunset, whispering. "Ma'am, this is restaurant business. Please return to your seat."
"No," says the other man, looking at Sunset. "She needs to know what's going on here – she works in a restaurant, too! For all we know, hers could be that freak's next target!"
"Good point." Sunset gently nudges the waiter aside, and steps in front of the man. "How about you tuck in your shirt, zip up your fly, and tell me who's in the bathroom?"
"Some girl!" He points toward the closed door to the men's room with one hand; his other tries desperately to stuff his shirt into his waistband. "Some freak in a ripped-up red dress! She's hiding behind the trash can, watching guys pee!"
Rarity, you blabbermouth...!
Sunset pushes past the man and heads to the men's room door. The knob turns, but the door is bolted shut. Glancing down, she sees "OCCUPIED" above the doorknob.
Figures.
"Sweetie? Is that you?" Sunset pounds the door with her fist. "Come out, and let's talk, okay?"
There's no answer, and no one comes to the door. Sunset shoves against the door; it's solid, but the lock and the knob both rattle.
The waiter approaches, spluttering. "Ma'am, don't. A hard sneeze could break that lock."
And just like that, the door is one more board for Sunset to kick in half.
The waiter curses under his breath and quickly clears his throat to disguise it as a cough. "I really shouldn't have said that. Look, the manager has a key; in a moment, I'll—"
"Do whatever you want."
Sunset leans her weight on her back foot, spins, and kicks the lock. The door shakes; the lock creaks. Sunset strikes again, and the lock breaks apart; the door swings open with an almost shameful creaking noise.
"Bill me," she snaps to the waiter. Behind him, she sees Cheerilee, turned around, her arm over the backrest. She looks more confused than angry now.
Sunset swallows, and steps into the bathroom.
It's empty. It's also, both fittingly and disturbingly, horse-themed. The fixtures are shaped like horse's heads, with wide, gaping mouths, and even the trash can, spilled out on the floor, has a relief of a rearing stallion.
"La Bouche de Cheval, huh?" Sunset mutters. "They're taking that to its logical extreme."
She shakes her head, ignores the imagery, and focuses on the situation.
Above the trash can is an open window. A shred of shiny red cloth hangs from a loose nail, beneath the sill.
Sunset darts to the window and climbs up and over, landing in the alley outside. A family of mice scatter, regrouping behind some rusting garbage cans opposite the window. One end of the alley is blocked by a brick wall; the other is cordoned off by a chain-link fence with a locked gate.
Sweetie Belle is at the gate, rattling the links and growling.
It must have been open when she got here.
"C'mon, Sweetie," Sunset says, taking a cautious step forward. "There's nowhere to run."
Sweetie freezes. Her shoulders slump. Then she straightens, and slowly turns.
By now, Sunset's seen more magical possession cases than the average high school graduate. She likes to think she's inured to them. Seeing Sweetie, she realizes that she isn't – at least not when it's a loved one.
Her kimono's skirt and sleeves have been torn to pieces; the outfit just barely maintains her modesty. Her cheeks are streaked with muddy black rivers, flowing from her eyelids. Her foundation and eye shadow have run together, mottling her skin a sickly blue-green. Flecks of burgundy still cling to chapped, broken lips.
"Why won't you love me?" Her voice reverberates off the alley walls. "That bitch doesn't know what she has; she doesn't deserve you; she shouldn't have you! We could be perfect together; why can't you see that?!"
"Sweetie, calm down. Try and think rationally." Sunset moves closer, raising her hands placatingly. "You're being influenced by Equestrian magic. Whatever you're feeling, it isn't real."
"It is real!" Sweetie thunders. The light in her eyes grows brighter, and a faint glow builds around the rest of her body. "It's real, and it's beautiful, and it's forever!"
"Maybe your feelings are real. Maybe you do love me." The heat from Sweetie's aura washes over Sunset, making her sweat through her clothes. "But the anger, the hate – that isn't the Sweetie Belle I know."
"You don't even wanna know me, remember?"
"I never should've said that." Sweetie's close enough to touch, now; Sunset reaches her hand toward her. "Sweetie Belle, I didn't mean—"
Sweetie slaps her hand away, and in the same motion, claws at Sunset's face. Sunset backpedals; Sweetie's nails only graze her cheek. She feels blood trickling down to her chin, and notices, belatedly, that Sweetie's nails have curved and sharpened.
Hoo boy.
Sweetie shrieks and slashes again. Sunset's reflexes take control; she catches Sweetie's arm, pivots her hips and feet, and swings the younger girl into the nearby trash cans. She bowls them over with a clatter, scattering the mice again.
"Stay down," Sunset pants.
Shame and anger burn in Sweetie's gaze – burn, literally, a bright pink. She reaches into her hair and pulls out one of the lacquered chopsticks holding it together; her hair falls in greasy, threads around her face as she grips the chopstick like a pick.
Sunset bristles. "I don't want to hurt you."
Sweetie lunges, thrusting the tip of the chopstick at Sunset's belly. Sunset catches Sweetie's wrist, her free hand reaching up to strip the weapon—
"Sunset!"
Cheerilee's voice cuts a swath through Sunset's concentration – she's standing at the chain link fence, her purse slung over her shoulder. In that moment of confusion, Sweetie manages to free her wrist and push Sunset back against the wall.
Sunset catches her wrist as she stabs for her jugular again. The chopstick is inches away.
"Don't!" Sunset shouts as Cheerilee tries to open the gate. "Glad to see that you care, but you need to stay away!"
"Is that— Sweetie Belle?" Cheerilee cries back.
"Remember when I said that things got weird earlier?"
Cheerilee abandons the lock and hooks her fingers around the fence's links. "What am I supposed to do, Sunset?"
"Stay put, and let... me... handle it!"
Sunset's free hand darts up to her own neck. Her hand closes around her geode.
To think I almost forgot this.
Skeletal branches hang overhead like the claws of some feral beast. The rest of the trees are obscured by a thick pink haze which Sunset strains to peer through. Step by step, she moves through the foggy grove.
She finds what she's looking for quickly: a bench, where Sweetie Belle sits. Dressed in normal clothes, with her legs pulled close and her chin on her knees and her face starkly unmade, she looks like the forlorn little girl she really is. She spots Sunset, and turns away wordlessly.
Sunset ignores the gesture, and moves to the bench. "You're not gonna scratch me if I sit down, are you?"
"...No." As Sunset sits, Sweetie adds, "You should leave."
"I can't do that."
Sweetie scoffs. "'Cuz you're a hero, right. Helping hysterical girls with magic problems is what you do."
Sunset moves closer on the bench, close enough to touch her.
"I'm here because someone I care about is hurting. And in danger. And probably setting herself up for legal problems by climbing into men's bathrooms."
"The window was open. I didn't know where it went." Sweetie sinks her chin deeper into her knees. "I didn't even care – I just wanted to be close by. To watch what happened with you and..."
She won't even say Cheerilee's name. "How much did you see?" says Sunset gently.
"None of it." Sweetie sniffs. "Did you fight?"
Sunset doesn't answer. It's enough of an admission for Sweetie's shoulders to sag in shame. "I'm sorry," she mumbles into her knees.
"You knew that was gonna happen," Sunset whispers. "How?"
"'Cuz of the lipstick. That's just what it does."
"Lipstick?"
"At school, yesterday. I sneaked it into... into her bag, with the letter. Switched out hers with Rarity's. That wasn't what I was there to do – I just wanted to give you the letter – but when I saw she used the same kind..."
Sunset chews on her lip. "Why do you have Rarity's lipstick?"
"I... I went into her room the other day. To try on her clothes. I do that sometimes; don't tell her. I usually don't mess with her make-up. But I was curious what I'd look like with her lipstick on. When I saw myself in the mirror, I thought... I thought I looked like a grown-up. Like the kind of girl who could drive you crazy. The kind you'd go for; the kind you'd..."
She trails off.
"So the magic's in the lipstick," Sunset mutters to herself. "Must've come through the mirror sometime after Rarity left for Manehattan, and stayed dormant until you put it on. If it's the source of the possession, then maybe breaking it..."
Sweetie Belle's sobs remind her of why she really came.
"...You really do love me. That wasn't the magic talking."
"I've always loved you. So much, for so long. It was this happy little secret I kept in my heart – something that was mine, all mine, that nobody else could ever touch." Sweetie Belle's voice is a thin, brittle note, broken by sobs and sniffles. "Now it's like poison. Eating me up inside. And all I wanna do is let it kill me."
"Don't. Do you hear me? Don't ever." Sunset takes Sweetie by the shoulders. "You have to fight through it. You can fight through it."
"What's the point?" Sweetie mumbles. "Why should I?"
Sunset places her finger beneath Sweetie's chin, and tilts her head 'til their eyes meet.
"Because you're part of my life, part of this big, weird family I've found. Rarity, and Twilight, and all the other girls – you're as important to me as any of them." Tears of her own sting Sunset's eyes, blur her sight. "It might not be the way you love me, but I still love you, and I'm never gonna give up on you. So don't you give up, either."
The fog thins as Sunset speaks. Flowers bud and blossom along the branches overhead, casting Sweetie's mindscape in vivid pink.
"Do you mean that?" Sweetie whispers. "Do you really?"
"I do. And I'm going to make this right, I promise."
"That's gonna be tough." Sweetie sniffles. "I don't think I can stop myself. Outside, I mean. The magic's too strong – you might have to hurt me."
"I'll work it out." Sunset smirks. "This is what I do, remember? I fixed the hysterical girl, and now I gotta solve the magic problem."
Sweetie laughs through her tears, and wraps Sunset in a hug, as white light builds around them.
"I'll be cheering you on from here."
"Love me or DIE!"
Sweetie's tear-streaked, rage-twisted, black-and-blue face snaps back into focus as the material world solidifies around Sunset.
"Sorry in advance, Sweetie," Sunset groans. She drives her knee into Sweetie's gut. Sweetie makes a choking sound and doubles over, and Sunset breaks free, shoving Sweetie until her back hits the alley wall.
She snaps her neck around to Cheerilee. "Babe, your lipstick. You gotta break—"
Sweetie Belle interrupts her with another charge, and a frantic thrust with the chopstick. This time, Sunset's alert enough to catch her, stripping the weapon from her grasp and tossing it down the alley. She slams Sweetie's solar plexus; her stomach is soft, but hitting her chest is like punching a boulder. Still, Sweetie staggers back.
"Break the lipstick," Sunset pants. "You do that, and we can save Sweetie!"
Cheerilee casts a wary look at Sunset. "How do I know I can trust you?"
Sunset wants to scream. Cheerilee's not as far gone as Sweetie, not enough to smother her concern for Sunset, but she's still under enough magical influence to doubt her. "This isn't the time to—"
Sweetie flings herself at Sunset again, her claws a reminder that the chopstick wasn't her only weapon. This time, Sunset grabs both wrists and stands her ground. They strain against each other; the mottling on Sweetie's face spreads along her neck, down to her hands, darker and more pronounced. The more it spreads, the stronger Sweetie grows, and she gradually forces Sunset to her knees.
Whatever she's becoming, Sunset's sure she can't hold it back. She looks, pleadingly, at Cheerilee.
"Cheers, listen. Equestrian magic is screwing with your brain, and you've got the source of it in your purse right now. You're the only one who can stop it!"
"And if I don't?"
"I'm pretty sure I'm gonna die! And if she's strong enough to break metal, then I'm pretty sure you're gonna die, too! Because she really doesn't like you!" Sunset's eyes bulge as Sweetie's claws inch closer to her face. "You want honesty? I am honestly begging you to save both of our lives!"
Spittle and foam spray from the beastial Sweetie's lips. Sunset's muscles burn; her arms begin to sag. Her gaze never leaves Cheerilee's.
The lipstick falls to the ground. Sunset breathes a sigh of relief as Cheerilee raises her foot over it, and smashes it down. There's a burst of pink, and a crackle of lightning...
...and suddenly, the strength in Sweetie's arms vanishes. Light as a feather, she swoons and slumps forward.
Sunset catches her, and gently lowers her to the ground. "Sweetie...?"
The mottling on Sweetie's body recedes and vanishes; her skin returns to its normal pallor. She looks up, with a face covered in streaks and splotches of ruined make-up, her hair a tangle held together with a single, loosely dangling chopstick.
Her eyes meet Sunset's. She blinks once. And she cries.
Sunset pulls her close, stroking her hair, whispering softly into her ear. She plants a single kiss on the top of Sweetie's head, and peers up at Cheerilee.
The older woman hugs her midsection and looks away. Sunset realizes she has no idea what her girlfriend is feeling right now. She wonders if she'd get the truth if she asked – and she wonders if that would be better than a lie.
She just holds Sweetie tighter.