That pale pony emerged once more from the double doors titled, 'Immediate Care.' An ironic name if Trixie ever heard one, considering the nonchalant pace those in need were being sought too. The chairs were so full of family and patients that some were required to lean against the wall, as if their day wasn't cruddy enough already.
"Um, Mr. Blues?" Across from where she sat, a cobalt stallion's mopey eyes brightened, his ears perking up as he turned to the nurse. "Nurse Tenderheart is waiting to see you," she informed him with a smile.
With a "Finally!" and an awkward gait, he hobbled toward her and this ivory prison's, 'Immediate Care.'
An instinct snapped within Trixie's heart, driving her to her hooves once more and the blotting out of Rainbow Dash's petulant growl. "Is Starlight okay?" she cried.
The white nurse pony whipped her head around from Blues, baby-pink bun bouncing to and fro as she answered, "Yes, Ms. Lulamoon! For the eighth time, she is."
"R-right." Curse my friend-loving instincts! Trixie whipped her mane aside, becoming the pillar composure she was known to be, and still was, in spite of the oppressive environment she was currently stuck in. "When will Starlight be awake, then?"
Redheart inhaled, but held it, shutting her mouth instead within a look of concentration. "You cannot see her either way, but against all odds—"
"Trixie, come on."
Rainbow's voice flicked her in the back of the head. "No."
A set of four hooves clapped upon the floor behind her. "You heard her the first time!"
"I said no!" As if that'll make me ditch Starlight, you yellow-bellied craven coward!
Rainbow appeared beside Trixie, penetrating her great and powerful and personal bubble. "So are we gonna sleep here? What about needing to stock of your magic stuff, r'whatever? For your show?"
Like that was even remotely important right now. Trixie bore holes through the 'Immediate Care' doors even after the nurse and Blues rolled their eyes and disappeared behind them. Let them mock. They always have. They were ants.
"We'll be lucky if she even wakes up tomorrow. That's what Redheart said! C'mon, this's getting crazy, Trix! We gotta face the music and tell Twi about..." Rainbow trailed off, gaze raking across the suspiciously quiet waiting room, "...about what'd happened this morning! Maybe if we do, she'll... well, she'd..."
Do nothing. She'd freak out and make it worse, just as Trixie had been saying up and down, would continue to do so till the day she expired from this world, and Equestria's magic reclaimed her beautiful flesh. But until then...
Trixie whirled on Dash. "Then go, Little Miss Loyalty. Your gut is so insistent that this is the way? Then go." Celestia knows she was too useless to stop Dash, even if she tried her best as Twilight always had. But Starlight tried just as hard. Yet they were doomed to fail, while the princess was fated to win.
"Starlight, I'm tellin' ya, Twilight's gonna find out one way or another. My gut's—"
"Oh, enough about your gut!" Trixie groaned. "It's giving me anxiety. Your 'gut' only feels this way because you're 'betraying' Twilight, or some equally dramatic manure. Not because you know with certainty that you're right. You don't, because you barely know Starlight."
"And how do you know that? Have you ever had to make a difficult decision in your life?"
Of course: for most of Trixie's life, she'd chosen the easy way instead of the hard way. The easy way instead of the right way. She'd chosen lies and deceits over honor and authenticity. She'd chosen to win for once instead of losing a thousand more times. Trixie was born without a father or a good teacher, instead to a mother who couldn't afford Celestia's privileged academy, and peers who couldn't pay the popularity points needed to hang with, "Little Lulamoon," who embarrassed her mother further by failing so hard, so often.
Trixie tousled her mane, chuckling wickedly at how easy this pegasus had it. "Once or twice," she said. "The most recent of which being the very struggle you're dealing with now. You don't think a part of me wishes to tell Twilight, too?"
Not a whole truth, but close enough to it. Starlight, you dangerous dumb fool. Trying to do magic like that, even after all that grief she'd given Trixie about remaining her assistant!
Rainbow, however, was never the dumb jock Trixie subconsciously assumed she was since the morning they first met. She stood firm, unflinching still despite Trixie's airtight logic, believing she herself knew better. "There's nothing more to say. Not to you," said Trixie. "I've exhausted my patience debating this before Starlight popped out of nowhere. I've explained the inherent flaws in your thinking down to the letter, and still, here you are: insisting adherence to Twilight's wishes instead of the friend we are trying to help. Regardless of how you proceed, you're going behind one of their backs. Choose incorrectly, and we'll be right back where we started—with Starlight distrusting you."
"I feel you're blowing this way out of proportion."
So unflinching. She honestly deserved those screaming foals over at Ponyville Schoolhouse. What Rainbow lacked in brains, she made up for in strength and integrity. But Trixie knew a confident facade when she saw one, and the sweat beading Rainbow's brow might as well be teardrops for all the turmoil she's certainly feeling.
It was impossible not to smile. "You wanna risk that bet?"
At last, Rainbow's glare softened, her grimace dampening like soil in the rain. Rain she scrubbed away with one swipe of the foreleg. "Dang it," she seethed, then stomped, growling aloud, "Dang it!"
"I know, it sucks. But if you're so bored waiting for results, then go make some for yourself. You'll hate them, but at least my progress will fall apart at a pace which accommodates your needs."
Rainbow held her gaze. And held it. And held it. "I really, really hate your attitude sometimes, Trixie."
Hate was a strong word. As if Rainbow's was any different? "Say something that matters for once. Are you leaving or not?"
Trixie almost breathed a sigh of relief watching Rainbow collapse into her seat, muttering, "'Progress,' please." Pride had to be bit down and swallowed for Starlight's sake. This was hard enough without having to keep this rowdy mare under control. It was like someone wanted Starlight to be ruined by bringing Dash, of all ponies, to Trixie's abode this morning. Had it just been herself, she could have easily kept this a secret between her and Starlight. But now...
"Ah, Ms. Great and Powerful?" croaked a tired voice.
Hearing her proper name always brought a smile to Trixie's lips. Settling back, eyelids a blessed blanket for her aching eyes, she asked, "What is it, senior citizen?"
The old stallion, Mr. Waddles, who was in before Starlight with a bruised flank that he deemed needed, "Immediate Care," forced the words out with his seventy-something-year-old vocal chords. "Your friend? Starlight Glimmer?"
"My best friend," Trixie corrected. Not even strangers would lump her with half-friends in the likes of Rainbow Dash.
"Right. Well, you might not've heard, on account of you two's constant bickering, but Nurse Redheart left because she was annoyed by you two's constant bickering."
"Uh-huh..." Trixie said patiently.
"Yes. But before doing so, she said something like, like your friend had already woken up?"
Starlight flopped left, wincing as the knot beneath her horn, or rather, what was left of it, knitted tightly. When it twinged again seconds later, she beat her pillow until it was decidedly comfortable (which it never was, of course) and faceplanted into its ever-lumpy depths. A needle of pain slithered down the length of her horn, and tears were blinked away from her eyes.
"My horn," she mumbled, "it hurts." It hurt so bad she wanted to die, just to end it.
Starlight grit her teeth. She wasn't so desperate as to truly wish for such a thing. It's just pain, she remembered. Pain goes away with time. Won't be long before this crackly, chipped tooth of mine stops hurting me. Stops reminding me of what I woefully lack. With time, it'll become just another ugly blight on my laundry list of mistakes. And with time, her body, too, will get the memo instead of trying to leave stressful situations on a whim.
For many moments Starlight pondered what was more sad: how teleporting away had become instinctive, or that even now, with this injury, she was running from all her problems.
Shortly after awakening, this reality bucked her swiftly in the gut, again and again and again and hadn't stopped for a breather since. How she'd only sought Fizzle—Tempest, rather—this morning for someone, anyone, to dispel the soul-grinding realization that Reeka's vow wasn't prophecy, but fact.
That Tempest had the fated misfortune of being gifted a room so close to Starlight, who never considered how her words might affect the hornless older mare, just to hammer in this fact at long, long last. And she rightfully called Starlight out for the insanity she was spouting, treating them as the ravings of a mare desperately trying to alleviate responsibility for her current state. Tempest was wrong, of course, she had no idea what Starlight was talking about and with her history, she'd never want to.
Not that a modicum of this occurred until it was too late. As always. 'Story of my life.' A tugging at her lips, a humorless smile, meant that on some level this must have been funny. On some level, these circumstances weren't so terrible.
And at some point, Starlight would pick herself up, maybe have a cry, then heal, and move on once again. Just like she had after her first friend suddenly left her life, and she had with Our Town, when her philosophy was torn apart by one Twilight Sparkle, and very nearly with Trixie and her friendship with Sunburst.
It was all a cycle, always, with Starlight clutching either end of the circuit. Only her, always.
Whether Reeka was honest or not, playing the prophet, or she just knows me that well, Starlight thought for the umpteenth time, I only cared how I felt, and that's why I ruined things with Tempest.
And that's why she ruined things with Twilight.
If some godly figure came and gave Starlight one chance to do it over, she'd have given pause and seen things from their perspective, Twilight and Tempest both. If she had been an outside observer, she would have stopped herself before she started, and then had something beautiful with friends who truly understood her.
'Could've, would've, should've,' Glimmer mused.
That's not what fate wanted, though. Fate decreed that Rainbow and Trixie, and probably half of Ponyville, too, were to speculate on the madness which possessed her to recklessly pop in out of nowhere, dazed and bleeding from the stump like a complete and utter moron.
'Road to friendship,' indeed. Did either of them expect this road would involve detours to the hospital as a result of freakout-charged accidents? Silver lining: Tempest hadn't turned against her, for Twilight has yet to pop in out of nowhere, trying to wring out an explanation. She'd probably use dark magic and force it out, too.
That gross notion was gone before it could take root and feel plausible. No way would Twilight invade another pony's privacy like the old Starlight would.
Just what did Twilight even see in me all those years ago?
"Um, Ms. Starlight?" a mare chirped sweetly.
Oh, no! TWILIGHT! Shooting upright sloshed the dull, thick agony about her skull. Of course it wasn't her, Starlight was overreacting again. Massaging her pounding temple, she snapped, "Mm, what?" because of course the help had to suffer the stupid wrath of Starlight, too.
Nurse Redheart smiled, pretending it was nothing. But there was a weakness behind it, a forcefulness painfully obvious to one who was surrounded by fake smiles at one point. "I imagine you're still jonesing to leave, yes?"
As was she gearing up to be rid of Starlight's nastiness. 'This puke-green ceiling isn't getting any comelier, so, yes. I am.' She swallowed the stupid comment and simply nodded.
"Right." A sadness tinted Redheart's smirk as she nodded back, glancing twice at the clipboard in her foreleg. "Yes, I understand. I still think it's best if you stay for just one little night, but we can't exactly force you to stay here." She began trudging over on three hooves.
No, but Twilight would certainly try and make me. Keyword being "try." The sooner she left this place, the slimmer a chance she had of getting cornered and corralled into yet another unnecessary argument with Her Royal Highness.
"Hold on a second." Redheart froze midway to Starlight's bed, eyes fixated on the floor beside it. "Did you see who took the wash bucket that was over here?" she asked, pointing. Starlight's esophagus clenched at the memory as Redheart stamped her back-left leg, squeaking like a filly. "That dang Sweetheart, it has to be. I told her not to do more than her job!" A fond shake of the head. "She can never resist that urge, I suppose. Not that I'm complaining."
"It was no one," Starlight said aloud, plainly, to Redheart's insulting bafflement. "I did. It's in the bathroom." She gestured right, to the shut door.
"Why...?" Redheart looked from it to Starlight, clipboard held closer to her chest, which she stole another glance at before hugging it again. Did she think it held a logical explanation for something so freaking unbelievable? As if earth ponies didn't move crap without a horn all the time? "You... say you moved it?"
Starlight nodded curtly.
"In your state?"
She bit her lip, as well as a retort. "It's pretty much a sand bucket. Just some water and a sponge, nothing heavy."
And also blood: disgusting bodily fluids which siphoned life through all living things. The one thing in this world rarer than gold, yet owned by everypony. Only several throughout history had ever seen the stuff outside a gushy nose or a scrape on the knee. Because of the water, Starlight awakened to find this bucket appearing absolutely filled with the stuff, sopped up by this poor nurse. How much more gag-worthy, Starlight wondered, was the coppery tang of blood when it'd caked her forehead?
Redheart's thousand-yard-stare proved she was stuck in that grand old time. "I'm sorry... I mean, we are—" She blew a raspberry. A shake of the head, a knock on the temple, and she came back composed and sweet-smiling like she just walked in. "Apologies, let me start again!" She breathed in, a pink tint to her cheeks. "As your nurse, I apologize for not taking care of it sooner, Ms. Starlight. Our inexperience with an event such as this is no excuse for sloppy patient care."
A shrug of the shoulders. "I don't care, I get it. It's only because you guys aren't used to something like this. It isn't normal procedure, I imagine, having to mop another pony's blo-s-stuff w-with a sponge."
From the distance, the faint clacking of hooves on tile and ponies murmuring crashed hard upon them. Redheart blinked emptily, processing the lightheartedness fail.
Stupid Starlight she thought, Nurse Redheart was disgusted to have to do that. Of course she isn't going to think that's funny!
"R-right, the... smell must have been bothersome, I imagine," said Redheart, "or else you wouldn't have gone through the trouble of moving it. Again, profuse apologies for not being up-to-snuff."
"There's no need to be sorry. Really." It was only because of the collateral which came about in Starlight's wake. "Actually, I couldn't stand the thought of you guys cleaning my mess," she replied casually. "Much less something like this."
"But weren't you in pain?"
Starlight blinked at the... emotion, for lack of a better word, in Redheart's voice, the glimmer in her eyes. Even the way she stepped closer felt genuine. "Uh, yeah, k-kinda," Starlight answered, forgetting to lie.
Redheart took another glance at her clipboard, astonishment on her face. "Your friends told me you were strong, but I'd have never imagined it was so... literal."
Of. Course. Of course they were telling the doctors that. There was no gossip, no vicarious bedside care. Rainbow and Trixie respected her, for whatever reason; all of her friends did. And she had the nerve to think ill of them? It was precisely for this reason that everypony was wrong about her.
Starlight gazed aside, unable to stand Redheart's evident admiration a second longer. "Why's everypony saying that?"
"Perhaps because, on some level, it's true." Redheart's hooves clopped steadily closer. "I won't presume to know you, personally, Ms. Starlight, although I wouldn't mind the chance... h-however, as a medical practitioner, I can say with certainty that your constitution is outstanding! If you'd allow the simile, y-you're as tough as... as an alicorn." Redheart tucked a pink strand of mane behind her ear. "I mean that sincerely."
Starlight turned with astonishment. "Just how many alicorns have you cared for?"
Redheart smiled sheepishly. "Just our resident princess, I'm afraid," she laughed, teasing a chuckle out of Starlight.
But it's not like she knew what this felt like, how manageable and unimpressive it really was. At worst it was a headache, or the morning that followed a major sugar binge.
"It wasn't much, though." Starlight couldn't even remember if it strained her neck or not, proving how unremarkable an act it was. "I didn't do anything, I don't do anything. I just... wanted to help."
And not thinking beyond that is why I'm here, wasting your time.
"With the bucket, or...?" Starlight's gaze into the ceiling became a glare. A warning, for she truly didn't feel like discussing the far grander parallel Redheart was implying. "I see. Well, you're my patient, Ms. Starlight. You do not need to worry yourself over helping, only to get better."
That sounded an awful lot like something her mother would say.
And Redheart was being far too familiar besides. "Yeah? Well, maybe in your opinion. But I know what's best for me. So, thanks, but I'd appreciate it if you sorta kinda... stepped back, and let me decide what I'm 'in need' of feeling for myself."
The nurse's powder-blue eyes widened, her smile long gone.
Starlight laughed to mask her horror. "Sorry! Sorry. Totally uncalled for, heh. It's just... I feel good now! Well enough not to be stuck here, at least. Not that you know any better! Oof, what I mean, is, you're not me, so it's a little unfair to assume you know exactly how I feel, especially when your only concern is my health." Redheart blinked. Her lips began to part. "What I'm trying to say is, I mean, what I'm trying and failing to say, is that I'm not the glass doll everypony thinks I am because of..." Starlight's heart nearly gave out as she tried to finish, and so instead she gestured vaguely to her forehead. When Redheart didn't move, not even to nod in understanding, she cried out. "I can drag a bucket and dump it in the sink by myself, it's not hard! And it's so you won't have to gag at all my stuff, so why's it matter how I did it?"
"Ms. Starlight," uttered Redheart, likely jumping to conclusions.
"It wasn't even that bad, really! Not everything I do is worth all this pomp and circumstance!"
"Ms. Starlight... please," Redheart finished gently. "I wasn't doubting you. Not at all. I was just surprised is all." Like that was any different from praising her for essentially taking out the trash. "But I insist you keep your voice down, we've patients who aren't quite so resilient they can shout on the day of receiving a traumatic head injury."
This was just a dangerous case of experiencing a "phantom limb." Redheart had to have been referring to her horn. "I told you already, this happened to me about a week ago." Not coming here was a surprisingly wise move on Twilight's part, considering how she is.
Then again, what could Ponyville General have done to amend such a rare and irreparable injury?
"I... I wasn't talking about that." Redheart had a look. "That" kind of look. The kind Starlight only read about in her drama novels, when doctors were waging a war inside about how to deliver life-changing news to their patient.
Starlight put on a brave face for her. "Unless I'm dying quicker than everypony else, I won't sweat it too much. So lay it on me."
Redheart blinked. In a burst of movement she removed a pair of dark, plastic-looking sheets from the clipboard. "Here," she breathed, "I mean, I'm here so you could have a look at these. And do I could help walk you through this, and... unless you're busy tonight..." She blanched, she blushed, she stepped back, away from the bed, sheets in the crook of her elbow. "They're your x-rays, Ms. Starlight," Redheart uttered stiffly, the color draining slowly from her cheeks. "Renderings of your inner workings, these in particular being those of your nervous system and your skeleton."
Thinking back to just three hours ago, Doctor Horse came and scanned her, but it had zero effect on her. Starlight presumed it was because of her broken bond, the loss of her sixth sense. "Aw, but not my big, beautiful brain?"
"Ideally, we'll never have to. But that's on you." The shakiness of Redheart's smile and words barraged Starlight's heart.
This had to have been an overreaction. It had to be. It had to be. Whatever it was, it couldn't get any worse than losing one's horn and magic and reason for living.
Redheart's hooves fell as a judge's gavel would, carrying Starlight's x-rays across the room to their final judgement. She hiked her blanket close to her chest as the nurse clipped them to a nectar-filled home of bugs, humoring Starlight for half a second. She'd written it off earlier as a strange fish tank-esque distraction for the patients until Redheart pulled one of two cords on the bottom, darkening the transparent window, and a second later it was alight with the fireflies, highlighting four images of a broken unicorn's front and side profile.
Half were of a wiry pony-shaped structure, the other a skeleton with a splintered stump jutting from the skull. Returning to the left, she noticed a dark space where there should be a web of nerves upon her forehead, twisting to form a spear-like protrusion. It was like Hydia did more than take her horn, she carved out half her brain, too.
She might have, actually.
"Ms. Starlight." Redheart paused, gulping for dramatic effect. Or she was ready to vomit from what was on the screen, if Starlight's writhing gut was any indication?
"What is this?" she asked immediately. "What'm I looking at, Nurse?"
Redheart, terrifyingly, said nothing. She only bit her lip. "I'm... going to go off script for a moment. You're a brilliant mage, Miss... Starlight. Glimmer. Starlight, dear, everypony knows that," she told with compassion. "But I don't believe you're the type who appreciates honeyed words. Additionally," she paused, gulping, "I'm aware your knowledge of the arcane arts is second to none. I know, because Princess Twilight told me as much. Which tells me you know all about the ins and outs of unicorns, their relationship with the higher mysteries, and the bridge between them: their horn... and how their bodies make this bond corporeal."
Of... course. Obviously, she knew all about Starlight already. Because Twilight was friends with everypony in Ponyville, and she made time for them all when she could. She was such a good friend. She tried, and often failed, but she tried to be the best friend possible for every pony because she herself wanted to. That's what made her worth all this horror in the first place.
"And though this is completely un-professional, in my professional opinion, this calls for a different approach. There is simply no gentle way for me to break this to you, given my assessment, and delaying the inevitable with what you perceive are the basics would only harm us both in the long run. Are you okay with this, or do you wish for me to follow the script?"
Starlight's gut sank. And sank. And sank. Then she remembered to shake her head. Or nod. "Just spit it out," she said, feeling so, so far from this room, this bed, and this town. "Please."
Starlight was elsewhere, where the nurse's words, dwindled to a far-off garble, could just barely reach her, though reach they did. It was somewhere far from the huge, dark, coffee stain that bled from the broken horn upon the monitor, where it crept up beneath the spot Starlight's own hairline began and ached, and drizzled down the bridge of her nose, seeping around her eye sockets. Covering everywhere she ached the most.
Somewhere far enough away that the words, "We barely managed to mend your nervous system," didn't reach far enough to kick her in the gut.
"And that's definitely me?" she thought aloud.
Nurse Redheart hesitated to nod. "Yes, regrettably. What you did today, Starlight Glimmer, teleporting without a horn is... unprecedented. Impossible, and by all accounts a miracle. And in no way is this a good thing." She pointed toward the coffee stain, then dragged her hoof to the bowl-shaped bundle of nerves within the side profile beside it, explaining as she did so. "Due to the nature of your Destiny, we believe your very being still believes itself capable of fulfilling that. But the strain your body went through to muster up enough magic nearly fried your peripheral nervous system. S-several of your blood vessels boiled to the point of bursting! And this, this is the damage such a powerful, forced spellcast inflicted upon your cranium. It's scorched the very bone! And don't even get me started on what would happen should you try this again. The trauma would be..."
Starlight tuned the rest out. She wasn't here. She was back in Hollow Shades. She was nine years old. She had a horn that was normal. Magic that was normal. Worries that were normal. A mother that wasn't her first loss, who worried a tad too much, and called her "Grapelight" because she was, "a little pink grape always ready to burst," because of how many nosebleeds and boo-boos she'd sustained as a filly.
She wasn't here, in this reality of her own making. Starlight Glimmer was still playing Dragon Pit with Sunburst.
"That's it!" A small gust of air blew Trixie's mane aside. "I'm going nuts, sitting on somethin' like this!"
Trixie swallowed, combing her mane and any notions of snapping aside. "How many times must I tell you," she wondered, eyes rolling up toward Rainbow Dash, "to let Starlight make this decision for herself? Do you really want to be the one responsible for making it worse?"
Rainbow inhaled sharply but choked suddenly, her ears wilting, gaze falling aside. "No," she mumbled. "Obviously I don't. But are we really at the point where we're second guessing every move we make? Letting 'maybes' and whatnot scare us from doing what's best?"
The irony of Trixie being the one to exercise caution was not lost on her, despite her whole heart writhing, crying out to agree, to get out of here, to let Twilight know what had happened because this was impossible and unnatural and Starlight, in no way, could have intended for that to have happened.
...Right? She... She wasn't practicing magic on the side, lying to Trixie, was she?
Trixie crammed those thoughts down, stomping them to a paper-thin pancake and burying them deep with just a single thought, and a sure smile on the outside. "Unfortunately, yes," she said lightly, knowingly, ever the brilliant actress. It's all for Starlight.
"Now simmer down, already," she hissed for herself and Rainbow, who continued to hover, deep in thought. "Ponies are staring and whispering."
"As if that matters at this point." Rainbow plopped back into her seat anyway. A good sign. It meant Trixie still had a degree of control over this mess—over Starlight's recovery—and thank Celestia, Luna, and Harmony above for that.
A glare clawing across the lobby scared anypony ogling them to return to their magazines, foals, thoughts or personal hurts. What a miserable place, hospitals. It was regrettable, yelling at these ponies' questions about "Princess Twilight's student," even if they had no business thinking of her tragic accident, let alone asking about it. Nopony in their right mind wanted to be here, after all. Even those who made their living here only tolerated it for the gratification of helping the sick.
The array of coat colors against white walls alone weren't easy on the eyes, an excuse to pop out of here would be fantastic right about now. If Trixie had her props, she could liven everypony's spirits. Make them forget why they were visiting the most soul-crushing place in all of Equestria. Leaving Rainbow without her proverbial ball-and-chain (for that's what Trixie's existence today has been reduced to, apparently) was out of the question.
And though she was likely, definitely... hopefully decent... Trixie wanted to risk teleportation even less. She was a risk-taker through and through, but she refused to risk Starlight.
"Hey, our girl's a tough nut, alright?" A foreleg slung around her shoulders out of nowhere, strong, unneeded, warm, comforting. Rainbow Dash, the least-tolerable of Twilight's posse, always forgetting the concept of a personal bubble, and now responsible for giving Trixie a lump in her throat. "It'll take a lot more than this to make her crack. So what if she's still tryna make her magic work? S'not like anypony can force her not to."
Trixie very nearly thanked her, this pony who truly respected Starlight's independence. But she didn't want to even acknowledge the possibility that that was the truth. That Starlight had lied, lied to Trixie. Her best friend. The one pony whose judgement she, among all others', should not fear.
"No, they can't," Trixie said, gazing sidelong. "But if... if she's hurting herself to do something impossible, then..."
"Then we'll cross that bridge if we get there." The "if" was meant to be comforting, like that might not even be a possibility. Trixie felt chilled to her core regardless. It definitely could be one, she thought. If she's going behind everypony's back just to assert her independence, then I...
Rainbow leaned closer, brows pushed together, so she could speak in a near-inaudible murmur. "Look, I ain't gonna pretend everything's a-OK. But even in the worst case scenario, it's not Starlight that I'm most worried about. It's Twilight. Like, okay, I get what you're saying. Twilight isn't gonna take this well, she won't listen to you or me, no matter what we tell her, and she'll probably, most likely, hound Starlight again. And then that'll be a piping-hot mess on our plates."
Despite the fact that Rainbow was sent to Trixie by Twilight herself, like a gang of spies, essentially trying to figure out how to be better friends to Starlight. Should their friend have gotten the wrong idea, seeing the two of them together for no good reason—
Oh, gosh, no. Trixie's stomach dropped.
"What? What's the matter?"
"Our friend really can't control herself."
"Who? Starlight?"
Trixie gave a mirthless laugh. Rainbow Dash was always a source of unintentional wisdom. "Oh, you could say both. But I mean Twilight. Now, obviously she couldn't have accounted for Starlight suddenly popping in unannounced. But what if she'd come later? Did she consider how the two of us would've looked?" The horror dawning on Rainbow's face was almost worth the manure-show this could very well have become. "What if Starlight already has the wrong idea from our impromptu rendezvous? That... that explains why Starlight hasn't asked the nurse for me yet! It all makes sense!"
"Seriously? That's what you're worried about?"
Trixie ignored her, she'd never understand anyhow. "Look, don't get offended when I say this, but there is zero reason Starlight would ever consider the two of us getting together for the fun of it. Especially in light of, well, everything. That's what I'm really worried about."
"Aw, crud, you're so right." Rainbow cried into her hooves, throwing her head back. "I didn't even think of that! Now what do I do?"
"Well, you were never much of a thinker to begin with." Rainbow slammed a hoof into Trixie's foreleg. "Ouchies!" She nursed the throbbing, tingling pain swelling up in her upper foreleg. "I was telling you not to feel bad, you ninny!"
Rainbow never looked away from the ceiling. "You're a wordsmith rival to A.K. Yearling."
Of course Rainbow Dash enjoyed that mindless book series. "If it makes you feel any better, I'm not blaming you."
Rainbow gave a sidelong look. "Is this really the best time to be blaming anypony?"
"Well, we can't deny that somepony's responsible. Though counterproductive on the surface, it'd be prudent to nip this problem in the bud before it gets worse." Assuming that was possible at this point. "Look, if Twilight was using that big, brilliant brain of her's, she ought to've thought ahead. This is in my humble opinion, by the way. It'd have been more sensible if she sent Rarity or even Applejack to interrogate me. Would have been an easier pill to swallow on Starlight's end, should she have encountered us."
"She asked me because of my speed and, uh, 'negotiating tactics.' But alright, fine, so this wasn't her best move. Can you blame her, though?" Rainbow asked. "This has got us all scrambled in the brains, guts, n' heart-guts, yet she's feeling totally responsible for it! You know how crazy she looks? Her bags have bags, for pony's sake!" Rainbow huffed, shook her head. "And you said Starlight feels the same way?"
Trixie hesitated a nod, even though she'd already opened her mouth. "For some unfathomable reason, yes."
Rainbow had the nerve to go, "Sheesh." As if she'd never felt like a source of trouble for her friends, messed-up big time, or hurt those she was sworn to be steadfastly loyal to. As if she never made mistakes and regretted them with all her heart.
"Can you blame her?" Trixie snapped.
Rainbow didn't answer. Instead, the Wonderbolt cupped her face in both hooves and groaned. "Oh, my gosh. This's all so messed up, you know that?"
An appropriate tagline for Trixie's life. "As well as a pony knows herself. So, what do we do about the now-problem, dear Rainbow?"
"I've been thinking about that." The pegasus covered her mouth, brows furrowed. "Well, we won't know how Starlight's doing for a while. But at least our tough girl's awake, so, not much longer."
Trixie resisted showing her dismay, resisted slapping a hoof across her eyes. Usually Starlight was the brains between the two of them. "I mean, what do we do about the likelihood of Starlight suspecting some kind of conspiracy between us?"
Rainbow looked doubtful. "You positive she's assuming something that crazy?"
"But of course! I'm her best friend, after all. Starlight wouldn't be who she is without speculating all the feasible ways ponies really felt about her." And that was all she had to share on the matter, because Rainbow "I'm better than everypony" Dash didn't need to know how often the two of them bonded over such paranoid thinking, or the fact that they did so at all.
It was nice, though, knowing Trixie wasn't the only one who did that. She was less of a freak that way.
"That's... really sad," Rainbow muttered.
Trixie was ready to dismiss this insult before hurried galloping came stampeding down the hall. Several heads turned toward the unusual sound, where a pink body burst through the double doors seconds later. It was Starlight, panting, looking to them wildly with bedhead to match. Trixie found herself on her hooves, Rainbow's seat behind her creaking as well, wings thumping over the slew of low mutterings. A glance revealed these ponies were at least trying to avoid staring like Trixie demanded. Good. The ponies of this town, for all their faults, were gentle at heart. Always made for an easy audience, too.
"Ah! Girls." Starlight fixed her tousled mane, smiling loosely. "Fancy meeting you here, eh?" she rambled and ambled over, face pink, albeit a little flushed in the cheeks, but when wasn't it, really?
"I'm glad to see your spirits are up," Trixie said sincerely. Although these circumstances were terrible, and life as she knew it felt precarious, like a sandcastle in the sun, Trixie, in spite of this, smiled as Starlight stood before her, perfectly fine mere hours after being rushed to the Emergency Room by several doctors and nurses.
A fountain of rainbow-streaked hair spilling from toned, cyan flanks dropped between them.
"You're looking strong," Rainbow remarked. Trixie leaned aside to catch their friend bashfully receiving a playful punch to the shoulder. "You really scared the crud outta us, ya madmare."
"Yeah, sorry about that." Starlight rubbed her foreleg, ashamed and likely feeling deserving of that "madmare" title. "I didn't mean for that to happen. I heard it was..." Starlight's bashfulness fell away for a thousand-yard-stare she blinked away immediately. "It was pretty bad," she finished with a shake of the head. "I'm really, really sorry you guys had to see that."
The quiver in her voice was pitiful, as if she had any reason to feel bad despite being the one with greater woes.
"It's cool," Rainbow lied.
Trixie stepped up, unable to help herself. "Why did you teleport?" Celestia curse her senselessness! Especially with the spooked look she got. "I mean, why did you try something so... extreme?" she finished lamely. "E-especially when you grieved about your handicap during practice!"
Trixie wanted to crawl in her hat and die, but she lacked the sense to bring that, too. Even Rainbow "The Dunce" Dash was appalled by her stupidity, facehoofing with a groan.
But Starlight never dropped her smile. She took a breath and held it, thinking up a lie within this room full of strangers. "You see," she laughed airily, glancing behind her, "you see, um, I don't know how else to explain it, but... my horn, right? It's on the fritz."
"Horns can do that?" asked the genius.
"Um, normal ones, no," Starlight tittered. "Uh, luckily the doctors cast a spell to quell my magic, so good as new! No need to worry." She glanced back at the doors once more.
"Right," Rainbow said slowly. "I mean, cool! It's cool that that's fixed, yeah. It looked, ah, a little painful before."
"Aw, pssht! I didn't feel a thing."
Trixie remembered warmth squirting across her cheek, nearly choking at the smell of copper.
"We weren't sure if you did that on purpose, or what," Rainbow continued. "We thought you were practicing with Tempest or something."
"You thought that, missy," Trixie said pointedly, drawing a nervous grin from Starlight. That... That couldn't have meant Dash was actually right. Right? That Starlight had replaced Trixie with a different magical friend?! "Personally," Trixie inhaled, letting go and forgetting (for now), "I'd assumed you might have been trying for the sake of it. And of course, my great and powerful friend, you achieved it."
"Heh, yeah." Starlight waved a hoof in dismissal. "I mean, no! No, Trixie. I wasn't practicing or anything. I've got a buggy horn, is all. Tempest and I... nah, we don't really mesh well, if I'm being honest."
"Oh." Starlight usually got along with everypony. Perhaps Trixie ought to have a few choice words with that picky pony. "Well, that's a shame, but no need to dwell on it. That grumpy nag doesn't know what she's missing."
"Oh, I think she does!" Starlight laughed sharply, harshly, clamming up upon hearing the lobby's utter silence. "Anyway," she muttered, "I'd appreciate it we got a move on. Shall we, girls?"
"Uh, ye-yeah!" Rainbow squeaked. "Lead the way, Starlight."
"Great." Starlight grinned stiffly and walked just so through the lobby. Trixie glared at anypony who dared gawk in their direction, scaring them back into their own little worlds in an instant. Mutterings and too-frantic page turns filled the air.
When she looked to Starlight, she caught her friend glancing behind them. What was so interesting about those doors, and what made them more important than her best friend?
"Rude." Starlight looked to her with a start. Trixie softened up, just a tad. "What, did you flee from the doctors or something?" she chuckled.
"N-no!" Starlight smacked herself in the temple, then recovered as if that wasn't weird at all. "I mean, nah. Nah, course not! They gave me a lollipop and everything." She dropped her gaze, smile, ears and all.
What're you hiding now, Starlight? Are you... not going to tell me? She certainly failed to give any signs that she wanted one-on-one time, if that was the case. No urgent glances to the door, no carefully phrased sentences that implied such. Nothing.
That couldn't be right, right?
Trixie looked to Rainbow, curious as to how she was taking this. She, too, exchanged a look, seemingly lost, and offered a shrug. Even to the densest pony around, Starlight was acting out of sorts.
Trixie willed the magic around her horn and the double doors leading outside, wreathing both in her signature pink glow. "Here, let me—"
"I can do it my-self." Starlight tore ahead and barreled through the doors.
Trixie was only trying to help. She exchanged a pitying look with Rainbow, and together they rushed out to follow.
"Okay," Trixie sighed upon exiting the hospital. "This's gone on long enough. Just what is your problem, Starlight?" Her friend's back was to them, shoulders gyrating in time with her broken panting. "I'm guessing you didn't mean to pop on over this morning, Not without a good reason. And don't give us that 'horn fritz' thing again. Your horn is an organ, not a tool."
"Yeah, what's up with that?" Rainbow hovered in place before them while Trixie stepped aside, forming them into a triangle at the threshold's left. "Like, I don't know much about magic, but I've known Twilight long enough to know how teleporting works. That sorta spell doesn't just happen once your older than two."
"Uh..."
"I mean, unless..." Rainbow scratched her mane. "Unless it's 'cause you were gearing up to see your most awesome friend?"
To that, Starlight perked up. "Ye-Yeah! Actually, you're right, Rainbow!"
"She is?" "I am?" They cried as one, even leering forth, their noggins clapping together. The 'creepy twin routine' continued as they pulled away, rubbing their hurts and glaring thunderbolts at one another.
"Well, yeah!" Starlight spoke, like this was supposed to be obvious. "Rainbow, it's been too long since we've spent time together. Don't you think? And! And I thought... that... it'd be a good time to, uh, 'chillax?' Is that the word? Pfft, what am I saying? Of course it is! You and me, chillaxing, like always!"
"This is news to Trixie. What even is 'chill-lacksing?'" She pretty much vomited the strange saying out. Not easy on the tongue, that one.
Rainbow hovered there, gaping, eyes ping-ponging between the two of them. "Uh, right," she said slowly. A hard blink. "I mean, right! Yeah, it's been a while since we hung out. I'm always in the mood for a bit o' chillin'." She slunk beside and pulled their sheepish friend in a one-legged hug. "So, whadda ya say? Oh, we could fly if you want! Kites, I mean! We could fly kites. That's... what I meant to say."
This dummy. "I still don't know what chilling is! Does it involve ice, or..."
"Pssht." Rainbow rolled her eyes, lazily buzzing towards her. "Shows what you know, Trix. Only cool ponies really know what 'chillaxing' is."
"Your unsatisfactory explanation only raises more questions, oh 'cool one.'" Starlight muffled a laugh into her hoof, drawing many things from Trixie, pleasure chief among them. The fact that she could find the strength to smile with that horrible injury...
"Wait... wait, Trixie." Starlight suddenly regarded her like an offended foal, all wilted ears and glimmering eyes. "That was really insensitive of me. Er, hey," she added brightly, "you can join us if you'd like!"
"Yeah!" Rainbow squeaked, leering between them. "Whoever said three's a crowd?" She smirked, but it didn't reach her eyes, which pleaded for assistance.
To be fair, it was a truly enticing idea. Rainbow's eyes popped open as she was gripped in a dusty pink glow, and yanked aside. Trixie stepped forth, smiling gratefully. "Your offer is appreciated, friends, but I'm afraid I'll have to decline."
"Oh." Starlight's expression was unreadable.
"Really?" Rainbow asked, a hidden layer to her surprise only Trixie was privy too.
She felt a tug in the chest, though, proud that she recognized Trixie's status as Starlight's best friend. Why else would they be so shocked to hear those words tumble from her pretty mouth? "I'm sure," she said with confidence. "I really think, Rainbow Dash, that it would be most beneficial for the two of you to 'chill' and talk or whatever. It's been a while, you get me?" Comprehension dawned within Rainbow Dash's eyes. "You see, Starlight, this pony's been pestering Trixie all morning, whinging about how good of friends we are. In her humble opinion, Rainbow's been feeling deprived of her Starlight Time, and would relish the opportunity to make up for it." Assuming you already think there's something up with the two of us being together... Ideally, this would alleviate those niggling worries.
Rainbow just needed to play along, but she inhaled deep, sharply, a retort ready to come barreling out of her stupid mouth, only to emerge as a stunted choke. "Uh, yeah!" she said, to Starlight (and Trixie's pleasant) surprise. "That's our story! Trixie's been hoggin' ya, you know? I wanted to have the day with ya and whatnot, give us some breathing room."
"Well..." Starlight grinned wide. "Why not? I guess it all works out, then!"
Trixie stepped forth. "I will not deign to be known as selfish! In truth, Trixie was in the midst of organizing her props, planning her next tour. It has been a while, after all, and that was when Rainbow Dash came barreling in with her ridiculous demands!"
Starlight looked down, furrowed brows implying critical thinking. There couldn't have been any holes in this, could there? It made sense for both their characters. She might still believe Rainbow had an ulterior motive, but she was also a simple pony. It would be illogical to assume the pegasus had greater machinations in mind, but not now, when Little Ms. Loyalty was so obviously concerned for her friendship with Starlight.
If there was one thing Starlight cared about than her own well-being, it was her friendships.
"O-oh, right." Starlight shook her head and smiled brightly. "This morning, you mean. Yeah, of course! Obviously, that's what you were doing, Trix. You've been outside Twilight's for a while, after all. Waiting for me."
"Mm-hmm!" Trixie nodded in tune. It was time to make her friend feel strong, independent. "But now, I can see plain as day you're well on your way to making a full recovery! You don't need me hanging over your shoulder anymore." Not completely. But perhaps, hopefully, there was a silver lining in this mess, and that's how Rainbow's brashness could prove useful in getting Starlight to open up more about this morning. "Now I won't be leaving town immediately, but as you well know, the traveler's life is a taxing mistress. Twilight's been generous with her coffers, but I'd prefer making ends meet on my own ability than living off her handouts like a wayward bum."
Starlight just stared.
"Uh, Glimmy? You still on Equestria?"
Starlight's eyelids fluttered. "R-right! Yeah, no. No, don't worry about me. You're you, and you've done plenty, more than enough, actually, on my behalf."
Well, that was easy. "Oh. I mean, oh, yeah! I mean... don't think about it like that. I'm always willing to lend an ear, or a hoof, or a shoulder. Or just about anything, really. But spending time with one of Twilight's friends would be good for you, I feel." The words tasted poisonous, but they had to be said. Trixie just expected a bit more fight from her. That was all.
Yet here was Starlight, brushing her aside like yesterday's news.
Unwitting of her friend's wounded feelings, Starlight smiled gratefully. "Thanks, Trix. I appreciate it."
And just like that, she left her: Rainbow and Starlight made off, the pegasus taking the lead by air and in conversation.
Trixie watched them leave, alone in every sense of the word, like a dog waiting by the door. How pathetic. But it was like Starlight barely gave her a thought! Just like she did Maud. Like she did Twilight, too.
As if Trixie was on their level in Starlight's mind... No, no that couldn't be it. They were best friends! Trixie was being selfish like Maud said, and paranoid as usual.
But still, this... was bad. Really, really bad. One thing's for sure. Trixie rushed to her carriage, already forming the words of a letter in her mind. Hopefully that wall-eyed mailmare knew how to reach the Changeling Hive. Just one, amidst all this mess, she thought once more. I just made a big, stupid mistake.
Rainbow had better not screw this up and make is all for naught. But she was going to, which is why they needed help.
Help from all of Starlight's friends.