//------------------------------// // Chapter 16 - Rock Bottom // Story: Second Chances: A Redemption Story // by Cyrano //------------------------------// Adagio walked. Where was she going? She’d somehow managed to pry herself off the pavement, though why she’d done so still eluded her. She’d failed—not just once, but over and over, each time thinking that surely she could fall no further, only to tumble over the edge of another cliff. But this had to be the bottom, didn’t it? No Equestria, no magic, no Aria or Sonata, no Twilight… No hope. So why was she still moving? Her muscles screamed at her, begging to be allowed to rest or simply to give up. She was starving, but the thought of food made her nauseous. She wanted to sleep, but without a roof over her head she might as well just lay down and die. So why didn’t she? Adagio heard the blaring of a car horn from behind her just in time for it to whizz by, sending up a great wave of dirty rainwater that nearly knocked her off her feet. She stumbled, catching herself on the metal base of a streetlight before tapping into reserves of strength she didn’t think she still had in order to right herself. It was at that moment she realized exactly where her aimless wandering had lead her. Canterlot High. Adagio barked an empty, mirthless laugh. Why here, of all places? Was this yet another example of destiny’s sick sense of humor, or had she been led here by some subconscious need for yet more punishment? She pushed off the pole, staggering not towards the school, but to the monumental marble statue that stood before it and the Equestrian portal nestled secretly within its plinth. Adagio wondered whether the sculptor had known what purpose their creation would one day serve. Was that why they had chosen a horse? Or had the statue been chosen simply because of what it depicted? She rounded the base of the statue, turning to face the spot where she knew the portal to be. As she drew close her reflection leered back at her through the mirror-like marble. Her eyes were sunken and bloodshot, with the now familiar black bags hanging beneath them. Her hair was matted and, like her clothes, clung uncomfortably to her body, making her look small and almost skeletal without its voluminous mass. What happened to you? The memory of Aria’s words stung more now than when she’d spoken them. Together, she and her hollow reflection extended their hands as Adagio reached out and, just like all the other times she’d sought to make use of this bridge between the two worlds, felt only cold stone. Nothing. Something within her snapped. Adagio withdrew her hand, coiling it into a first before lashing out at the statue. The pain was blinding, but she didn’t stop. Over and over again she slammed into it, tearing open the old wounds on her knuckles and leaving behind a red smear of blood that colored and distorted her reflection. Nothing—that was what had happened to her. She had spent so much time raging against the hand she’d been dealt, she hadn’t realized that she was the one holding the deck. She got herself banished to this world. She picked a fight with the Rainbooms that resulted in the loss of what little magic she had left. She made a deal with Abacus Cinch. She alienated Sonata and Aria. She betrayed Twilight Sparkle. Twilight. Adagio let her arms drop to her sides. The knuckles of her right hand looked like raw meat, and blood mixed with rainwater flowed freely from the tips of her fingers. Nothing seemed to be broken, so either she’d pulled her punches or had been too weak to even self-destruct properly. She hadn’t simply betrayed Twilight, she had used her: first to pass her exams (so much for that!) and then to keep the Rainbooms off her back until she regained her magic. And then, the moment Adagio had gotten what she wanted, she had discarded Twilight like she was nothing, solidifying herself as everything Aria had said she was and more—a broken, toxic, empty shell that cared about nothing and no one. So why, after everything that had happened—everything that she’d done—was her phone still ringing? She’d felt it for a while now, the vibrations from the relentless onslaught of phone calls and text messages that could only be coming from Twilight Sparkle. She’d been ignoring them for hours but still they came—and if anything they’d increased in frequency has time had passed. How hadn’t Twilight gotten the message yet? The Adagio she thought she knew didn’t exist. Why wouldn’t she just give up? Adagio tried to reach into her pocket, but bending her fingers produced such excruciating pain that for a moment the entire world went black. Had she broken something after all? It wasn’t as if she didn’t deserve it. When her vision cleared and the pain returned to being only almost unbearable, Adagio contorted herself such that her left hand could reach into her right pocket, producing the phone. Her timing was impeccable. The phone nearly vibrated out of her hand as yet another call came in. Raindrops splattered against the already soaked screen as Adagio stared at it, watching it ring. One swipe: that’s all it would take to allow Adagio to tell Twilight exactly how she felt. That Twilight had failed, that their friendship had been one big lie, and that no number of phone calls or text messages would change any of that. She tried to take a deep breath, managing only a shuddering gasp before swiping her finger across the screen to accept the call. Nothing happened. The phone continued to vibrate angrily as Adagio swiped again, but the touchscreen was too wet. She wiped it on her skirt, but after hours out in the rain if anything that only made things worse. She swiped over and over, each more desperate and frantic than the last until finally the call ended, the screen changing from the incoming call message to the lock screen, displaying a collection of Adagio’s most recently received texts that she couldn’t help but read. ‘Adagio, pick up the phone.’ ‘Please.’ ‘I’m sorry.’ Adagio screamed. She turned on her heel, raising the phone into the air before spiking it as hard as she could into the ground below. It bounced twice, skittering across the concrete before coming to rest at the foot of the steps leading to the school’s entryway. Adagio took a step back, bumping her injured hand against the statue and sending a fresh wave of agony jolting through her. She felt her legs buckle beneath her and collapsed into heap against the statue’s base. She closed her eyes, clutched her ruined hand to her chest, and began to sob like the pitiful, broken creature she was. “Adagio?” Her eyes snapped open. A figure had emerged from Canterlot High, and though her vision was blurred from the rain and her own tears, she immediately recognized what they were holding. A god-awful, disgustingly pink umbrella. Adagio rubbed her face on her sleeve and looked again. That was definitely Cadance’s umbrella, but as the figure drew closer Adagio realized that it wasn’t the dean of Crystal Prep who had miraculously showed up at Canterlot High, but someone she wanted to see even less. Sunset Shimmer. “Adagio!” Sunset broke into a run. Adagio flattened herself against the base of the statue. She wanted to flee, but even if she could force herself back to her feet she knew that she was in no condition to outrun anyone. She was trapped. “What do you want, Sunset Shimmer?” “What do I want? Adagio, we’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Adagio’s eyes narrowed. Of course they were hunting for her, why wouldn’t they be? She’d expected as much after she’d stolen the amulet, which was why she’d planned to be long gone by now. But since when did her plans ever work out? “Well, you found me, but you’re too late.” “What do you mean ‘too late?’” asked Sunset, her look of concern giving way to alarm. “Are you bleeding?” “Stay back!” shouted Adagio, holding up her good hand palm out. Sunset complied, coming to a stop just a few feet away. “You’re hurt, Adagio.” “Brilliant deduction,” Adagio grunted. Sunset looked worriedly at Adagio’s injured hand, prompting Adagio to turn in an attempt to shield it from her view. “What happened? Where’s the amulet?” “I told you,” said Adagio, “you’re too late. It’s gone.” “Gone? What do you mean, gone?” Adagio didn’t respond, opting instead to stare defiantly up at Sunset. “Adagio, this is serious. The amulet is dangerous, if it fell into the wrong hands—” “It already fell into the wrong hands,” said Adagio. “Mine.” Sunset eyed her warily. “Do you have it with you?” “What part of gone don’t you understand?” Sunset’s eye twitched, and Adagio could tell she was restraining herself from snapping back. “Look, just tell me what happened and I’ll call someone to get some help and—” “I don’t want your help,” hissed Adagio. She knew how this game worked: Sunset needed information, and the best way to get that information was to pretend to be on Adagio’s side. As soon as Sunset got what she wanted she’d run off to do whatever it was heroes did, and leave Adagio to her ruin. That was what had happened last time, wasn’t it? “Adagio—” “Leave me alone, Sunset Shimmer!” she shouted, wishing she still had her phone so she could throw it at Sunset’s head. Sunset hesitated, and for a moment Adagio thought she might actually be considering leaving, before Sunset took a cautious step forward. “I need to know what happened.” “And I need you to keep your distance,” said Adagio. “Hey, are you listening? I said stay away!” But Sunset wasn’t listening. Despite Adagio’s protests, Sunset continued her approach until she was looming over her much like the statue at her back. With the hand not occupied by the umbrella, Sunset reached up and took hold of something tucked into the collar of her shirt. Adagio had only a split second to wonder what she was doing when a brilliant light flashed between Sunset’s fingers and Adagio felt the unmistakable aura of magic. “What are you doing?” demanded Adagio. Sunset let go of whatever it was that she’d drawn this magic from and began reaching down towards Adagio. Panic. Adagio tried backing up again, managing only to scrape her shoes against the concrete below and bump her head hard against the statue. Stars swam in her vision, and instinctively she guarded her injured hand by holding her other one out in a last-ditch attempt to hold off her attacker. This, as it turned out, was a tactical error, as when Sunset reached forward she did not attempt to bypass Adagio’s outstretched hand, but touch it. Blinding light engulfed Sunset’s eyes as, once again, Adagio could feel magic radiatiating off of her. Her body went rigid, and her grasp on Adagio’s hand tightened, hampering her feeble attempts to break free. The light show lasted only a few seconds, and Adagio was able to snatch her hand back as Sunset reeled from the effects of her magic. “What was that?” demanded Adagio, her voice straining. “What did you do?” Sunset blinked a few times before focusing on Adagio, her brow furrowing. “What did Cinch want with the amulet?” Adagio froze. That was impossible. There was no way Sunset could know about what had happened with Cinch unless— “Stay out of my head, Sunset Shimmer!” shouted Adagio. She felt violated, the thought of the unwanted intrusion into her mind bring a sick feeling to her gut along with a fresh stab of guilt. Had she not spent years toying with the minds of others? Not reading them, but twisting them and shaping them to fit her own desires. It wasn’t as if she didn’t know what she’d been doing was wrong, but now that she was on the other side of the magic… She shook her head to clear the thoughts, bringing on a fresh wave of dizziness. Her hypocrisy was nothing new and obsessing over it did nothing to lessen her outrage, but doing so had given Sunset Shimmer time to think. She watched Adagio, her face a mess of conflicting emotions. “So, what now?” asked Adagio. If Sunset had truly been in her head (and of this she had little doubt), she must have known what Adagio did. Sunset was completely aware of the pathetic, loathsome creature that she’d become, which was why her next words were completely incomprehensible. “We need to get you out of this rain.” Adagio stared at her in utter bafflement. “Are you an idiot?” Sunset blinked. “Excuse me?” “You were in my head, right?” Sunset nodded. “Then you saw what I did to Twilight. I lied to her, stole from her, used her, I betrayed her—I betrayed all of you, just to get what I wanted!” Sunset watched her uncertainly, so Adagio continued. “So, I ask you again: are you an idiot? Because only an idiot would do something as monumentally stupid as trusting me.” Sunset broke her silence. “I don’t trust you, Adagio.” Adagio was taken aback, but quickly recovered. “That may be the smartest thing you’ve ever said, Sunset Shimmer. So, now that we’ve got that straightened out, go back to the other Rainbooms and tell them what happened, tell Twilight Sparkle what I really am, then go hit Abacus Cinch with a rainbow, or something, and leave. Me. Alone.” The last words came out as little more than a growl. She glared up at Sunset, snarling and looking her dead in the eyes. “No,” said Sunset. Adagio let out a strangled noise that quickly devolved into a coughing fit. The cold rain was finally getting to her, and at this rate she might even lose her voice, the irony of which might even had made her laugh if she wasn’t already caught up in a frothing rage. “How many times do I have to tell you this?” demanded Adagio. “I’m bad, Sunset Shimmer, take another peek inside my head if you don’t believe me—not that you need my permission!” Sunset winced at the accusation, but didn’t relent. “I’m not just going to leave you here!” “And why not? You know what I did, and you said it yourself: you don’t trust me. All I do is hurt people, so if you stick around you’re just going to end up getting hurt, too. So, why don’t you just do us both a favor and go?” “Because I’ve been here before,” said Sunset, glancing back towards the school’s steps. “I told you, didn’t I? I was right here when I lost everything, or, at least, when I thought I did. I know exactly what it feels like to have nothing, and what it’s like to be offered help by a group of girls who have every reason in the world to hate you. And so does Twilight.” “I’m not like you,” said Adagio, “and I’m definitely not like Twilight Sparkle.” “Why not?” asked Sunset. “What makes us so different?” “You’re good, Sunset. Both of you. Twilight Sparkle is a human, and you’re a Unicorn. I’m just a...” She paused, and when the word finally arrived it did so on a wave of shame and self-loathing. “...a monster.” Sunset shook her head. “A couple weeks ago I might have agreed with you, but something changed my mind.” “What?” “You,” said Sunset. Adagio scoffed, though it was really more of a rasp. “What part of this prompted that, hmm? I—” “Lied?” interrupted Sunset. “Stole? Betrayed? Yeah, you said that already, but I’ve been in your head, Adagio. All these things you’re feeling: all the anger, emptiness, pain… that’s guilt. Guilt because you know what you did was wrong, and because you’re afraid you’ve lost something that all the stolen magic in this world and any other couldn’t replace.” “You’re wrong,” spat Adagio, desperately. “Am I?” asked Sunset. She took a step forward. “Fine, then let’s have a little test. If you can look me in the eye and tell me that it was all just one big lie, and that your friendship with Twilight really does mean nothing to you, then I’ll go. But if you believe for one second that when she finds out what happened she won’t run straight here, then you really don’t know Twilight Sparkle.” Sunset was right. Not about Twilight sprinting all the way to Canterlot High—the girl could barely make it up a flight of stairs without a break, she’d never make it to the school—but she’d try. Adagio could practically see it: Twilight, running through the rain, she’d be drenched to the bone by the time she arrived, but she’d come anyway, wouldn’t she? All so she could be torn down by Adagio one final time. No. She looked up, locking eyes with Sunset Shimmer. If Adagio could convince her that she really, truly didn’t care for Twilight, perhaps Sunset’s own desire to protect her friend would allow her to find some way to save Twilight from that last torment. It was her only hope. “It was all a lie.” Sunset watched her intently. “...and?” “And...” started Adagio. She grit her teeth. All she had to do was tell Sunset that Twilight meant nothing to her. It was just a few words, just one more lie spoken with conviction and it would all be over, and yet the voices in her would not stop screaming at her the earnest words once spoken by an infuriating pink-haired dean. No more lies. She opened her mouth, only to close it again. She was being foolish! She’d lied since she’d made that promise to Cadance, and she would certainly lie again, so why was telling this one, stupid lie so difficult? Not difficult, she thought, impossible. Her shoulders slumped and she tore her eyes from Sunset’s, casting them down to the earth. What a failure she’d become, unable even to protect Twilight from the truth. “I can’t,” she whispered. She did care about Twilight. She cared so deeply and so powerfully that she ached… which was what made what she’d done so unforgivable. Realization dawned on her: she wasn’t afraid of Twilight hating her for what she did—Adagio knew a lot about hate, and she doubted someone like Twilight was even capable of such a poisonous emotion—but the exact opposite. She was afraid Twilight would forgive her, allowing Adagio to hurt her over and over again, until everything beautiful and wonderful about Twilight Sparkle was chipped away to nothing. “We’re not in Equestria anymore,” said Sunset, her voice growing softer as she spoke. “We’re not a Unicorn and a Siren, we’re both just… people. Human beings. I’m not saying what happened in the past doesn’t matter, but it doesn’t have to define us. You can change, Adagio, if you want to.” Did she? Being a Siren was more than fins and singing. It was her ambition, her ruthlessness, her lust for power, her cunning… her everything! If she lost that she’d be, well, nothing. Hollow. Empty. Broken. …Exactly how she was feeling now. When did that feeling begin? She’d felt it when Cinch had taken the amulet and when Aria had abandoned her. She felt it when she stole from Twilight, and every time she’d hurt her. She’d felt it when she hurt Fleur, too, and when Principal Cinch had placed her on academic probation. She’d felt it at the Battle of the Bands. She’d felt it when she was first banished to this world and, if she was being completely honest with herself, long before that, too. Had she always felt this way? She thought back to the hours spent pouring over books at the library. To walking in the mall. To lying curled up on a fluffy bed. To a delicate hand that fit so perfectly in her own. To Twilight. But there was more. Her morning routines with Sugarcoat. Her back-and-forths with Cadance. The few hours she’d spent in Aria and Sonata’s dorm room after the basketball game. None of those moments had been great triumphs or victories, yet they’d been perfect in their mundanity. Those times, Adagio realized, not when her plans came to fruition or when she revenged herself upon her enemies, those times were when she’d felt something… something more. It was different than the rush that came with a flood of stolen magic. Magic was euphoric, all consuming, and, most of all, fleeting. It always left her wanting more, needing more, but no matter how much more she attained it had never been enough. The constant need for more had been what had forced the ponies of Equestria to banish her, what had lead to the loss of her magic in this world, and what had driven her to betray Twilight. It was like chasing something she could never catch, but to keep up she’d been forced to discard everything that wasn’t directly in pursuit of that singular want, and now she had nothing left to throw away. It was killing her. She knew that, but could she really give it up? Could those small moments ever be enough? What would happen if she tried and failed? It’s okay to be nervous, echoed Twilight’s voice. But being nervous doesn’t mean you’re going to fail. Well, it couldn’t hurt to try. After all, what did she have to lose? “I want to change,” said Adagio, both to Sunset Shimmer and to her murkey reflection staring back from the puddle beneath her. “I just don’t know if I can.” “You can,” said Sunset, taking another step forward so that the pink umbrella was shielding them both from the heavy downpour. “And we can help, starting with getting you somewhere warm and dry.” Normally, Adagio would have considered such an offer an act of pity (which, perhaps, it was) and refused it outright, but either her pride was as exhausted as her body or the thought of being somewhere warm was just too appealing, so she opted instead to keep her mouth shut as Sunset withdrew her phone from and placed a call. “Hey,” she said, “it’s Sunset. I found her.” Adagio was not privy to the other half of the conversation (or even the identity of the speaker) so she could only guess at what was being said from Sunset’s replies. “Slow down! I’ll explain everything when we get back. We’re at Canterlot High, could you—really? Okay, good. We’ll be waiting out front. Yes. Yes, we’ll see you soon. Bye.” Sunset terminated the call and returned the phone to her pocket. “Our ride’s on the way.” Adagio didn’t respond. She was too tired, her every thought slow as if bogged down by doubt and confusion. The two girls waited, the crashing of raindrops on the umbrella and the grumblings of the sky above acting as white noise which helped stave off the deeply uncomfortable silence that hung between them until, finally, it was time to leave. “She’s here,” said Sunset, extending a hand to Adagio to help her up. Adagio took a moment to try to rise on her own. Her muscles screamed, her wet clothes felt like they were made of lead, and (she thought) the weight of her sins hung off of her like great, metal chains. She couldn’t do this on her own. Tentatively she reached her good hand forward, stopping before it reached Sunset’s. Once last chance to give up, she thought, before closing her eyes, biting her lip, and taking Sunset’s hand. It wasn’t like Twilight’s hand; it was colder—though the weather could probably be blamed for that—and had its own share of calluses, but its grip was firm and unrelenting. It wasn’t a perfect fit, but it didn’t need to be: Sunset pulled, and Adagio began to rise. It took their combined might to pull Adagio’s weakened form to her feet, and when they did manage it she was forced to cling to Sunset like a child. It was humiliating, so much so that Adagio could do nothing more than cast her gaze downward in shame as the pair approached the waiting vehicle, and for that reason Adagio didn’t realize who was picking them up until she heard the shout. “Adagio!” It was Cadance. Adagio’s eyes shot upward just in time to see the dean of Crystal Prep Academy leap out of the driver's seat of her car and make a mad dash towards her. Before Adagio even knew what was happening Cadance was upon her, pulling her into bone shattering hug. “You’re freezing!” Without a moment of hesitation Cadance whipped off her coat and wrapped it around Adagio’s shoulders. What lay underneath was a white blouse, a terribly thin thing that had no hope of protecting her from the elements. But she did it anyway. “Cadance...” started Adagio, but she could manage no more. Her chest felt tight and her body was wracked with a barely contained sob. She was so ashamed for Cadance to see her like this—all the work she’d put in to help her only for Adagio to throw it away in a single day. What would she say when she found out what Adagio had done? And yet, all those dark thoughts were second to another overwhelming feeling: relief. Seeing Cadance was like a parting in the clouds, and though Adagio couldn’t even begin to understand, let alone explain it, it was undeniably true. The very sight of Cadance made Adagio feel lighter, and she clung to her coat like her life depended on it. Each time Adagio had been at her lowest, Cadance had appeared like a beacon to guide her back into the light, and now here she was to deliver Adagio once again. “Sunset,” said Cadance, her voice filled with urgency. “Help me get her into the passenger’s seat.” The two of them shepherded her into the car. Sunset climbed into the back seat while Cadance fussed over Adagio, pulling the jacket even tighter around her, strapping her in with the seatbelt, and turning the car’s seat warmers up to their maximum setting. Adagio was most thankful for the latter, slipping her good hand beneath her to help warm her frigid fingers and, unable to do the same for her injured hand, blew on it in a feeble attempt to achieve the same effect. By this time, Cadance had returned to the driver’s seat and closed her door. Like Adagio, her hair was flat and dripping wet, and her blouse clung tightly to her skin, but she didn’t seem to notice. She watched Adagio with unhidden concern. “What did I tell you about punching walls?” Adagio’s breathing hitched, and what came out was some combination of a laugh and a sob. Tears fought their way back into her eyes and quickly began pouring down her cheeks, but the laughter kept coming. She must have looked crazed, but she couldn’t help it—she sat there, laughing and crying for what felt like an eternity. All the while, Cadance and Sunset sat in silence. She couldn’t imagine what was going through their heads, nor, she guessed, could they begin to guess what was going on in hers. But that wasn’t a surprise. Adagio wasn’t entirely certain, either. Eventually, Adagio’s fit came to an end, and she joined the others in their quiet. It was only then that Cadance began to drive, and though Adagio didn’t know where they were headed, she felt strangely unconcerned about it. She knew she was in safe hands. Adagio took a deep, shivering breath, and let it out. She closed her eyes, feeling the warmth that surrounded her begin to creep inward to thaw her icy core. It was a good feeling.