//------------------------------// // 2: Into the Sunset // Story: The Exes Club // by MarvelandPonder //------------------------------// Flash Sentry had seen Sunset in bad shape before. A lot, actually. There’d been other battles, other close calls. Missed bills and cold nights. Times when she was still at her worst where her anger, bitterness, and regret seemed to build up as a poison in her chest. Even just physically, he’d seen her look pretty rough. After every summer away from CHS, she came back entirely too thin and she looked like a child playing dress-up in her leather jacket. Her features were too sharp. Too harsh. Ill-fitting. He logically knew what two and a half months of not knowing where your next solid meal would be could do, but it was always so much worse than he expected. Thankfully she’d fill back out in record time every year, and the past summer had been the best yet since she’d finally been humbled enough to get a summer job and had friends’ families inviting her over more often than not. At one point, Flash legitimately started thinking she’d moved in with the Sparkles. Yeah, sure, it couldn’t be healthy for her to gorge on sweets and junk when she was stressed (not that he could blame her; she’d told him once about the castle chefs in her homeworld, and if Flash had access to freshly baked key lime pies on a whim, he’d probably develop a wicked sweet tooth, too), but regardless, he’d rather see her indulging in a few too many pizza nights than rail-thin and stealing to eat. It meant she was okay. He couldn’t say the same now. Sunset had buried her face in her hands ten minutes ago and hadn’t been all that responsive since—which was somehow so much worse than the grumbling grousing he’d expected. Rainbow Dash let her be, which maybe was a good sign, but then again, he hadn’t known the athlete to push for big, emotional heart-to-hearts. Timber had gotten up to fend off a call from Gloriosa, bending back from the phone when she talked at him. Not that Flash wanted to eavesdrop, but from the sounds of it, Timber hadn’t bothered to tell his sister he was even leaving the campgrounds before heading to a hospital six towns over. Because of course he hadn’t, that would be too considerate. “No, no, slow down, I’m fine, Gloriosa, it’s okay. I’m all in one piece! Two feet and a heartbeat! … Yes, I have on clean underwear…” He saw himself out at that point. But at least with Timber out of earshot, Flash felt more comfortable trying to talk about things seriously. “So… uh.” Or try to, at the very least. Sunset didn’t move from her hands. She spoke into them. “You’d all be so much better off without me.” Now that got Rainbow Dash to pay attention. “What? Are you serious right now? We’d be creamed without you! Our magic isn’t as powerful when we’re not all together. You saw us out there. If you weren’t there today, we’d all be as good as dead!” “I’m not just talking about today,” Sunset told her, and Flash didn’t like the sound of her voice. It wasn’t just that she sounded a bit worn out, or tired from a hearty magical battle. Sunset had a low, dull deadness to her tone and he knew she meant every word. “I brought magic here. I got the girls hurt. I put everyone in danger. Even when I’m not a raging she-demon, I can’t protect the closest thing I’ve ever had to a family from the rogue magic I unleashed. I can’t even do that right.” That stung deep in his chest. He’d always known Sunset to put too much on her own shoulders—whether it was a mountainside castle and a grand destiny, or the lives and well-being of the ones she loved. Even if he was used to it, that didn’t make this any easier to stomach. “Sunset, you can’t blame yourself for everything that ever goes wrong in this world.” He hoped her sassy side wouldn’t retort that she’d been doing a pretty good job of that so far, because he really wouldn’t know how to refute that. She had done a truly excellent job of blaming herself. She’d even done some extra credit and blamed herself for things from other worlds. Leaning forward in the chair across from hers, he shook his head. “Some things just aren’t on you, you know?” “Except this is,” she argued, sliding one hand into her hairline while the other dropped down to hang uselessly off her knee. He hadn’t seen her look at him with that much urgency since she’d told him to take her wallet far, far away from her when they went to a gaming convention together. “Twilight’s hurt! We could’ve died out there and it would’ve been because of me! Our stupid, broken tech and my stupid, broken magic. She wouldn’t even be in this mess if I wasn’t so reckless. I’m getting too comfortable having you girls to rely on, I’m letting my instincts go slack. And the others, I don’t even know if they’re okay!” With her pushing back the curls that hung on her forehead, Flash could see a gash that definitely hadn’t been treated by a medical practitioner. In fact, looking her over, it didn’t seem like Sunset had let anyone help her out at all. Rainbow Dash flicked a look his way that seemed to communicate she’d caught onto the same thing. “Yo, Sunset? You look like death, dude.” “Thanks, Rainbow Dash,” she mumbled. Flash set his jaw to the side. “She means maybe you should go get yourself looked at? Have you even seen a nurse yet?” Pushing herself up in her seat, Sunset held her head like she was dizzy, which wasn’t exactly encouraging. “What I need is to make sure everyone’s okay. I need to see the girls. Where’s Twilight?” “Back with the doctors and all that fancy medical stuff, like you should be,” Timber told her, although even with that he almost sounded like he was joking, which wasn’t helped by the way he swung around the waiting room chair to sit next to her. How he managed to get off the phone with a worried Gloriosa was a minor miracle, even Flash knew that. “Good to see you, by the way. Haven’t checked in since you and Twilight finally rode off into the magical sunset together. Still drooling over each other?” Surprised he brought it up at all, Flash wondered how Timber felt about that and not for the first time. Pure curiosity, mostly, but also, Timber had claim to that sunset once upon a time. Flash didn’t understand what Twilight had ever seen in Spruce, but they seemed good together for a while there. It had to suck to see someone else win the gold—unless Timber cared as little about his ex-relationship as he did about everything else. Sunset stared at him dumbly. “Timber? What are you doing here?” It was times like this that Flash seriously admired Sunset’s inability to have tact. “I live here. What are you doing here?” “What?” “Kidding. Just a joke.” It kind of worried Flash that Sunset hadn’t picked up on Timber’s sarcasm just then. If her sarcasm detector was busted, she must’ve really gotten a bad hit to the head. How out of it was she? Could she count to ten in English and Equestrian? Did she know which dimension she was in? Timber scratched the back of his head, trying to play that one off. “Actually, Twilight texted me.” “Huh. Really? I didn’t even know she still had your number,” she trailed off, but then shook her head and gave him a more clear-eyed look. “It’s good! I’m glad you’re here. You should be. We probably need all the help we can get. I just didn’t know you two had made up.” “Yeah… that’s because we haven’t.” She looked ready to press him for more, but before she could, a door slid open and a pink-haired nurse raised her icicle eyes from a chart in her hands. “Visitors for Twilight Sparkle?” Timber and Sunset both stood up at nearly the exact same time. Rainbow Dash, on the other hand, groaned loud enough for the whole waiting room to turn her way. “Nurse Red Heart, can we please finally see her now please?” To her credit, Flash realized he hadn’t ever seen Rainbow Dash wait more than twenty minutes for… anything, actually. Even waiting for new Daring Do books, she’d needed Twilight to help save her a place in line while she took a sporting-goods store break. He hoped he didn’t look too startled as he watched her, but it was just shocking to think she’d managed to stay put in one place for so long. This was the same girl, right? Nurse Red Heart gave the four teenagers a compassionate if exhausted look. “Not yet, Ms. Dash. A little longer.” The sound of Rainbow Dash going insane sounded a lot like a silence and that was terrifying. Luckily the nurse took up the task and filled it. “Your friend Twilight is doing well. She’s gone into surgery—” “Surgery?!” four voices shouted. Sunset looked almost as pale as the white-skinned nurse. “Stars above, what’s wrong with her?” “Is she okay?” Flash asked, because that definitely wasn’t a stupid question. “Oh, I’m sorry, you haven’t been updated! She has a broken arm. Twilight is going to be just fine. Doctor Stable has decided she’d benefit from what is essentially a small metal rod in her arm to help the bone heal. It’s a standard operation, I promise, very minor, very unintrusive.” Timber collapsed back down into his chair, slithering lower and clutching his chest as if relieved he’d survived a heart attack. At least he took some things seriously. Sunset, meanwhile, still looked pretty shaken up. She approached the nurse. “When she wakes up from surgery, can you come get me? If, you know, she still wants to see me? I’m her girlfriend.” Red Heart smiled with all the warmth of one of those trendy seasonal lattes Rarity liked. “You’ll be the first to know, dear.” Before the nurse walked away, Flash saw his opportunity and stepped in between the two as if introducing them. “Perfect! And in the meantime, maybe you wanna take Sunset here to get a little checkup of her own?” Sunset glowered at him. A look he knew well; well enough to see the twinge of fear behind the no doubt intimidating front. Truth time: as her ex-boyfriend, Flash had been sworn to secrecy that Sunset Shimmer’s greatest fear was hospitals. She’d never taken to accepting help well in her bad girl days, but the hospital and doctor thing was next level. Said it made her feel powerless in the scariest possible way, and even if Flash’s greatest fear was the clown he’d had at his tenth birthday party (he resisted a shudder; no one wore that much face-paint if they weren’t hiding something), he could understand why that would freak her out. But he could also keep his lips zipped on her fear and still make her get the care she clearly needed. In fact, the secrecy probably worked to his advantage here, because she didn’t really have an excuse not to get looked after if she wanted to keep her fearless persona intact. Still, it didn’t make it easier to say no when he was pretty sure she was trying her absolute best to tell him telepathically (which she’d only managed a few times before), C’mon, dude. Don’t do this to me. Strolling over, Rainbow Dash yawned and pocketed her hands in her short-sleeved hoodie. “If you’re going, I’m going. Toootally to keep you company and stuff, not just because I’m gonna go bonkers if I count the 72 floor tiles again.” Flash genuinely couldn’t tell if Rainbow Dash knew or not. This was either a seriously thoughtful way to help her friend out without drawing attention to her fear, or Rainbow Dash being conveniently oblivious Rainbow Dash. Either way, Sunset gave her a small, appreciative smile. He watched them help Sunset into the back past the double doors. She sent a worried look over her shoulder and he gave her a crisp thumbs up. Finally, he actually felt like he’d helped someone, which he couldn’t be more happy about. Happy until Flash realized that left him alone in a room with Timber Spruce for an indefinite, but definitely long period of time. Timber, and his unfairly pine-fresh musk. Timber, and his undeniable-not-matter-how-much-you-denied-him sense of humour. Timber, the boy he’d gotten rowing lessons from by the lake at camp and admittedly wished would take his shirt off more often. Flash’s eyes flared. “Wait.” Timber grinned at him, slowly raising up the small package of candies from his jacket. “So… gummy griffins?”