//------------------------------// // Chapter 17 - Shelter // Story: Second Chances: A Redemption Story // by Cyrano //------------------------------// “We’re here.” Cadance’s voice roused Adagio from her slumber. How long had it been? Not long, she imagined, not if her aching body or lingering headache were any indication, but long enough to make her groggy and disoriented. She blinked and wiped her bleary eyes on her still-damp sleeve before casting her gaze once more out the window to try to determine where Cadance and Sunset had taken her.  They were parked in front of Twilight Sparkle’s house. Her entire body tensed, drawing forth another burst of pain from her fingers. She cried out, grabbing her wrist with her good hand, squeezing her eyes shut, and gritting her teeth, hoping irrationally that any of these acts would lessen her agony. “It’ll be okay,” said Cadance, her soothing tone almost enough to make Adagio believe her. “Shining Armor has a first aid kit inside. Sunset?” “On it,” said Sunset, and while Adagio was still reeling the two of them got out of the car and moved around to her door. She knew it was necessary, that in her current state her legs would probably give out halfway to the house (if she made it that far), but that knowledge did nothing to dull the shame. What would it look like when the three of them came bursting through the door? Like a pair of kind strangers helping a poor, helpless child, or two wardens escorting an escaped criminal back to her cell? No, she thought, not to her cell. To the scene of the crime. They helped her out of the seat, flanking her as the trio made for the house. The wind had picked up again, rendering Cadance’s umbrella less than useless and forcing them to move quickly, but not so quickly as to risk slipping on the slick path. Adagio almost wished she had fallen—if she hit her head she might black out and not have to confront Twilight—but that would only be delaying the inevitable. She knew she had to face Twilight eventually… she just didn’t expect ‘eventually’ to be so soon. The door was unlocked, thankfully. The last thing Adagio wanted to do was stand in the rain and wait for Twilight to come to her. Cadance ushered her through the porch, not even stopping for them to take off their shoes—not that it really mattered, the water dripping from Adagio’s hair alone was enough to drown a small animal. She heard voices and movement coming from somewhere in the house (the living room, she thought, or maybe the kitchen) as well as the sound of approaching footsteps. Adagio steeled herself and looked to the doorframe. But it wasn’t Twilight Sparkle who stepped into view, but her brother. “Shining,” said Cadance. Her tone was almost commanding in a way that took Adagio by surprise. “Go get the first aid kit, then meet us in the bathroom so you can take a look at Adagio’s hand.” Shining Armor’s eyes darted to Adagio’s bloodied digits. His brow creased slightly, but rather than wasting time with questions he simply nodded at Cadance and disappeared back through the doorway, his quick exit revealing the lithe girl that had crept up behind him. Adagio’s heart leapt into her throat. This time it was Twilight. “Adagio!” Her voice was laden with worry, but there was something else there, too… a small hesitation, a wavering. Conflict, maybe, or hurt. Adagio couldn’t bear to look at her, afraid that Twilight’s expression would confirm the worst of her fears. She buried her gaze in the floorboards as Cadance led her deeper into the house. “Twilight, go grab Adagio something dry to wear, okay?” asked Cadance, though it didn’t really sound like a question. “O-okay,” stammered Twilight as they passed by her on their way to the bathroom. “I’ll help,” said Sunset, who had fallen behind when they’d entered the house. Adagio had no illusions that it would take two of them to find her some dry clothes, rather Sunset was almost certainly going to fill Twilight in on what she’d learned spelunking in Adagio’s brain. Adagio felt a wave of anger wash over her, but it was quickly tempered by guilt. Twilight was going to find out what she’d done anyway (if she hadn’t already figured it out on her own), and if Sunset told her then at least Adagio wouldn’t have to see the look on her face when it happened. Not that imagining it was much better. Cadance swept her into the bathroom, seating her on the lidded toilet before grabbing a small mountain of clean towels and beginning to wrap Adagio in them like she was some sort of still-living mummy. Shining Armor entered shortly after, carrying with him a small white box emblazoned with a red cross on the front. He knelt down before her, opening the box and removing bandages, gauze, and a small bottle that Adagio suspected contained the same stinging liquid Nurse Tough Love had tortured her with back on her first day at Crystal Prep. “Now,” said Shining Armor, “your fingers don’t look broken, but I’m going to have to touch them to be certain. I’m not going to lie, it’s probably going to hurt. After that I’ll clean them up—that’s going to hurt, too—and then we’ll get some bandages on them. Okay?” Adagio studied him. He wasn’t taking any pleasure in this, and as far as she could tell his warning wasn’t to scare her, but an honest attempt to prepare her for what was to come. She nodded, extending her arm which he took gently yet firmly by the wrist. “Are you ready?” he asked. Adagio nodded again. But she wasn’t ready. The pain was blinding. She started to scream, but immediately devolved into a fit of haggard coughing. Cadance placed a hand on each of her shoulders, steadying her while Shining Armor continued his work. “You’re okay,” said Cadance. “You’re okay. He’s almost done.” Cadance had to repeat the mantra a few more times before Shining Armor was satisfied that there weren’t any breaks. Next, he moved on to cleaning Adagio’s cuts with the fluid from the bottle which, as she’d predicted, was exactly as unpleasant as she remembered it. Possibly even worse. Seconds passed like eons, and by the time Shining Armor’s work was finished Adagio had devolved into a sniveling, wailing mess. He gingerly let go of her wrist, giving her a deeply apologetic look before rising and moving over the sink to wash his hands. Adagio sniffled and wiped her face on one of the many towels Cadance had brought her. When she looked up she spotted Twilight, once again lingering in a doorway. Their eyes met and Adagio quickly looked away, but not before noticing how red and puffy Twilight's own eyes had been. “I brought some pajamas,” said Twilight. “Right out of the dryer.” Another pang of guilt wracked Adagio as the pajamas were handed to her and she recognized them to be the same pair she’d worn the night before. Had it only been one night? It felt more like an eternity. “We’ll give you some privacy while you get changed,” said Cadance, herding the others back into the hall. “I’ll be right out here if you need anything.” And with that, Cadance ducked out, leaving Adagio alone once again in Twilight Sparkle’s bathroom. She could feel the mirror’s presence, but did everything she could to avoid looking at it. She knew what awaited her in its reflective surface and wanted no part of it, opting instead to get started on her most immediate problem: getting out of her drenched clothes. She stood, wobbling a little but steadying herself on the vanity. Then came the tedious process of peeling off the waterlogged garments, a task made only more difficult when it needed to be done one-handed. She shed the pieces of her uniform one by one: her vest, her blouse, her skirt… her tights proved to be particularly troublesome but soon she was free of them, too, until finally the last remnants of her affiliation with Crystal Prep—with Aria, Sonata, and Abacus Cinch—lay in a soggy heap on the tiles below. Compared to what had come before, donning the pajamas was relatively easy. The heat from the dryer still clung to them, and while that felt positively divine against her cold skin, the gloom that was settling in her head and her heart only deepened.  She didn’t deserve this. Not the cuts or the cold—she definitely deserved those—but the kindness. After everything she’d done to these people they’d taken her in out of the rain, bandaged her wounds, and clothed her. What she’d deserved was punishment, yet what she was getting was the exact opposite. She looked to the door. A voice in her mind told her to be wary, that she would still be expected to explain everything to Twilight and Cadance, Sunset Shimmer and Shining Armor, and anyone else who might have been lurking in the house. If she was crafty (and lucky) perhaps she could make it through the incoming interrogation intact, sell herself as the victim and then— I want to change. For once, it wasn’t someone else’s voice echoing in Adagio’s head reminding her to do better, but her own. She was too tired to be crafty, and she was the furthest thing from lucky, but more than any of that she knew that listening to the other voice would lead her down the same path it always did. She’d trip over the same rocks and fall into the same holes, only this time there might not be someone there to pull her out. She braced herself on the wall and took a step forward, then another, and another, until she reached the door. She grasped the doorknob, took a deep breath, and turned. Cadance, Shining Armor, Twilight, and Sunset Shimmer were waiting for her in the hall. Suddenly, Adagio felt very exposed. It wasn’t that Twilight’s pajamas were particularly revealing—quite the opposite, really—but something about wearing someone else’s clothes in someone else’s house with four sets of eyes boring into her made her deeply uncomfortable. She recalled thinking a long time ago that any attention was better than no attention… oh, how things had changed. Whether Cadance sensed her discomfort or was merely afraid she would pass out where she stood Adagio didn’t know, but either way she was thankful when Cadance draped a blanket over her shoulders and, once again, stayed close just in case Adagio lost her footing.  At the same time, Twilight had made a movement like she’d wanted to help, too, but stopped herself. Part of Adagio thought that this was for the best—Twilight’s noodle arms would do little if Adagio did fall—but a much smarter part chastised her for her naivete. A week ago, nothing would have stopped Twilight from being at her side. But now… “The girls are waiting in the living room,” said Sunset, breaking the silence. “We should head in there so we can figure out what we’re going to do next.” Cadance fixed Sunset with a stern look befitting the dean of Crystal Prep Academy. “Adagio needs rest, Sunset, can’t that wait until later?” It would be a good excuse to put it off, but, for once, Adagio wasn’t looking for excuses. “No,” she said, “let’s get it over with.” Sunset nodded before turning and leading the way down the hall. Twilight’s eyes lingered on Adagio for a few seconds before she hurried to catch up. “Are you sure?” The firmness had melted out of Cadance’s voice, leaving only concern. Adagio didn’t look at her, unsure whether she could meet her gaze. “Yeah,” said Adagio. Shining Armor fell in behind them as they made their way to the living room. Adagio wasn’t sure if it was her own frailty that made the trip go so slowly, or whether it was her nerves taunting her, extending the long walk to meet the jury that would determine her fate so as to make it as unbearable as possible. But it didn’t matter how long the journey took, because when Adagio rounded the corner into the living room she still wasn’t ready to face the Rainbooms. They were all there. Adagio spotted Rainbow Dash first, leaning against a wall with her arms folded and one leg bent at the knee. Adagio had half expected her to leap across the room the moment she’d crossed the threshold, but she didn’t. She just stared, and somehow that was much, much worse. Applejack sat in a hardback chair that had obviously been brought in from the kitchen. Raindrops still clung stubbornly to the brim of her hat, and Adagio wondered guiltily if she, too, had been out in the rain hunting for her. Would things have been different if it had been Applejack who had found her rather than Sunset? Sunset herself, like Rainbow, was standing, though rather than lurking by a wall she looked as though she was ready to give a presentation. To her, this was less of a trial to determine Adagio’s guilt, and more of a staging ground for what came after. Sunset had promised to help her—and Adagio believed she would try—but it had been hard enough to convince the others to give Adagio a second chance the first time, and that had been before she betrayed them. Would these girls really help her? Could they? Fluttershy, Pinkie Pie, Rarity, and Twilight all sat on the L-shaped couch. Fluttershy hid behind her long, pink hair, her one visible eye watching Adagio nervously. Out of all the Rainbooms, Fluttershy was probably the one whom Adagio had interacted with the least, and for that reason she had no idea what could be going on in the girl’s head, or how she might be judging her. Pinkie Pie, for once in her life, was not smiling. That was a bad sign. Rarity sat at one end of the couch, with Twilight on her right. She had one hand resting on Twilight’s knee in what must have been a gesture of comfort or consolation, but that set a pang of something straight through Adagio’s chest that made her heart stop for a moment and her breath catch in her throat. And, finally, there was Twilight. She sat with her head down and her fingers laced together in her lap. She was the only one not looking at Adagio. Due to the shape of the couch and the way the girls had spread themselves, for a moment Adagio thought she’d be forced to stand in the center of them, Rainbooms on all sides of her while she fought both to stand and to make her case. That was foolish, of course, and was immediately disproven as Cadance ushered her over the couch where the girls parted to make room. Either by design or coincidence, Adagio found herself sitting between Cadance and Twilight. Then it got quiet. Adagio stared down at her knees, knowing that if she looked up she’d meet someone’s eye, and if she did that then she’d have to talk. Talking had rarely been a problem for Adagio in the past, weaving truths and lies together like a tapestry had been as natural for her as, well, singing, before the Battle of the Bands, anyway… though, in retrospect, that hadn’t exactly worked out for her. In any case, this time was different. This time, despite what the nagging voice in the back of her mind kept whispering to her, there would be no more lies. This time, she would tell the truth, and hope beyond all hope that they wouldn’t hate her for it. All she had to do now was open her mouth. The silence grew heavier with each passing second, but still Adagio’s jaw stayed locked stubbornly in place. She was being stupid, she knew that, but she couldn’t help it. As much as she told herself that she deserved whatever happened to her, that the ire and disgust of both the Rainbooms and of Cadance was the natural consequence of her actions, it didn’t change that fact that she dreaded it. She felt herself starting to shake. She jammed her eyes shut, clenching her good hand and feeling her nails biting into the flesh of her palm. The voice got louder, screaming at her about all the terrible things that would happen. She felt all the eyes on her, just waiting to watch her screw up again. Her breathing became quicker, bordering on erratic as the war in her head reached a terrible crescendo and every nerve in her body demanded she fight or flee or— And then she felt it. A sensation as intimately familiar as it was utterly impossible. All the noise in Adagio’s head came to an abrupt silence as she opened her eyes and saw what her body had refused to believe: a hand, Twilight’s hand, placed carefully but deliberately on her own. Adagio looked up. Twilight was looking right at her, and this time Adagio didn’t look away. She gazed into Twilight’s big, beautiful eyes, searching desperately for… Twilight squeezed her hand. Adagio didn’t yet know what it was she’d found in the depths of Twilight’s eyes, only that, whatever it was, it calmed her in a way she didn’t know was possible. Her breathing slowed, as did the trembling, and without thinking Adagio took Twilight’s fingers in her own and returned the squeeze. It was going to be okay. Sunset must have realized that this was as good an opportunity as she was going to get, as she cleared her throat to draw the attention of the rest of the group. “There’s something going on at Crystal Prep,” she said. “Abacus Cinch is out for revenge, and she’s planning to use magic to get it—magic from the amulet Twilight used at the Friendship Games, which Cinch now has in her possession.” A few glances were shot in Adagio’s direction, but Rainbow Dash was the only one who didn’t even try to hide it. “To be perfectly honest, that’s pretty much all I know,” continued Sunset. “But I’m hoping Adagio can tell us a little more.” She focused her attention directly on Adagio. “Tell us whatever you can,” she said, though it was more of a request than an order. “Anything that she said to you, anything about your time at Crystal Prep… we don’t know what we’re dealing with here, so anything you know or that you think might help could go a long way.” There was something else there, too, unspoken but all too clear. Sunset was giving her the opportunity to explain herself, to tell her side of the story and help them understand what exactly had led them all here. This wasn’t just a chance to snitch on the dirty dealings of Abacus Cinch, it was a confession of Adagio’s sins, a real opportunity to put everything on the table and, if not start over, then start down a new, better path. Adagio felt the warmth of Twilight’s hand and squeezed it one more time. She took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then let it out. She told them everything. Once she started to speak it all just started to spill out. She told them about how she and the other Sirens had drifted around after the Battle of the Bands, and about how she’d been contacted by Abacus Cinch. She told them about the deal they’d made to exact their mutual revenge, and about how even then she’d plotted to turn on her benefactor. She told them about how Cinch had bent the rules to get them into the Academy, and about the naive young dean who’d shown them around, not knowing about their true purpose at the school. She told them about that lonely first night—she hadn’t planned on it, but it had just sort of come out—and about Cinch’s ambush on her first day of classes. She told them about the academic probation and the ultimatum Cinch had faced her with, and even about her near collapse into despair.  She didn’t like talking about that, but by this point what she did and didn’t want to talk about had fallen away, replaced by the need to tell them. She told them about how Cadance, her beacon of light, had come to her rescue, and how the hand she’d extended to Adagio would lead her right to Twilight. Twilight. She talked a lot about Twilight, though how much of it was rambling she didn’t really know. She talked about how the plan had come together, though hearing it outloud Adagio couldn’t help but notice that the plan she’d clung to so desperately was never really a plan at all. She’d been bouncing around, too stubborn and foolish to look up from her own scheming to realize that she was out of control until it was much, much too late. It made her feel small and weak and stupid, but she kept talking anyway. She talked about her struggles with Sonata and her falling out with Aria, culminating in the aftermath of Pinkie Pie’s party. She left out most of the details of the party itself, not wanting to drag Twilight back through that mess of memories when she was supposed to be talking about what she’d done. That might have been a mistake, because as the story grew closer and closer to the present her dread grew exponentially. Finally, she reached the night before. She talked about finding the amulet, about how one little accident had changed everything. They already knew how that had turned out, but she told them anyway, unwilling or unable to give herself the luxury of skipping past her shame. She told them about the diner, about how she’d fixed the amulet, about returning to Crystal Prep, and about how she planned to run away for good. She told them about Aria. Finally, she told them about Cinch. About the betrayal. About being tossed out into the rain with nothing but her own failure and misery. And that was it. Her voice, which had already been ravaged when she’d began her story, was hoarse and cracking by time she’d reached its end. Someone had brought her a glass of water at some point, but she was too nervous to drink it. She looked around at the inscrutable faces that surrounded her, wondering which of them would be the first to cast their condemnation. She didn’t expect it to be Cadance. “That woman!” Cadance’s outburst was filled with anger and malice Adagio hadn’t though her capable of. She stood abruptly from her spot next to Adagio, her hands balled into fists at her side. “Cadance—” started Shining Armor, taking a step towards her only to have her brush past him as she stormed across the room. “I thought things couldn’t get worse after the Friendship Games, but this is a new low. First she turned the whole school against the girls who competed, now she’s breaking school rules and coercing students into meddling with dangerous magic so... what? She can fulfill a grudge against a bunch of kids? What a miserable, selfish, wrinkly old...” Cadance stopped, her pacing having led her to the center of the room where eight shocked, impressionable young faces (as well as that of Shining Armor) waited for her next word. “...hag,” she finished, smoothing her skirt with her hands and clearing her throat. “Wow,” said Pinkie Pie. Adagio stared at Cadance in stunned silence. She wasn’t sure whether she was relieved that all that rage was directed at Cinch instead of her, or fearful that she herself would be next on the chopping block. “So, what are we sitting around for?” asked Rainbow Dash, taking advantage of the silence that had fallen in the wake of Cadance’s outburst. “Cinch has the amulet, right? Let’s just go to Crystal Prep and get it back!” “We can’t—” “You can’t—” Sunset and Cadance responded simultaneously, before cutting themselves off. Perhaps not wanting to draw the dean’s ire, Sunset motioned for her to continue. Cadance complied. “She might be horrible, but Abacus Cinch is not stupid. By now she’ll have the amulet hidden somewhere safe, and she’ll probably be expecting someone to come after it.” Adagio pretended not to notice Cadance looking at her as she spoke. “Besides, even if we did know where she was keeping it, she knows who all of you are. If you step one foot onto that campus she’ll have you arrested for trespassing.” “And it’s not just that,” said Sunset. “We know what happened last time the amulet overloaded on Equestrian magic. If we go in there and it steals our magic again, or if the other Sirens are able to use it...” Rainbow Dash grunted, clearly not content with these answers. “So, what? We just sit around and do nothing while Principle Cinch does… whatever the heck she’s doing?” “I bet she’s scheming,” said Pinkie Pie. “She always struck me as a schemer.” “We’re not doing nothing,” said Sunset, “we’re just being careful. We’re going to figure out what her plan is, then—” “How?” demanded Rainbow Dash. “Rainbow,” said Applejack, her voice laden with warning. “No!” argued Rainbow Dash. “It’s a totally reasonable question! How are we going to figure out what she’s up to if we can’t get anywhere near her without our magic being stolen or the cops showing up?” “You can’t go to Crystal Prep, but I can.” Every pair of eyes in the room fixed themselves on Cadance. “I’ll try to figure out where Cinch is keeping the amulet, or at least figure out what she’s planning to do with it. I don’t have any magic to be stolen, and it would be more suspicious of the dean of Crystal Prep wasn’t at the school, wouldn’t it?” There was a collective hesitation from the Rainbooms. Obviously none of them liked the idea of Cadance doing their dirty work for them. And neither did Adagio. “Cadance,” she rasped, “you can’t—” “I have to,” said Cadance. “Listen to me!” insisted Adagio. She turned, coughing into the crick of her elbow, but forced herself to continue. “If Aria uses the amulet you could be hurt! Or controlled!” Cadance met Adagio’s desperation with a gentle smile. “I know.” Sensing that her answer had done nothing to put Adagio’s mind at ease, Cadance closed the distance between them, crouched down, and placed her hand once again on Adagio’s shoulder. “Adagio,” she said, “when I became dean, the safety of every student who passes through the gates of Crystal Prep Academy became my responsibility. I know I haven’t done a very good job—I couldn’t protect you, Twilight, or the rest of the girls who competed in the Friendship Games from Principal Cinch—but that doesn’t mean I won’t do everything in my power to stop her from hurting any more of my students.” Adagio looked at Cadance in disbelief. ‘Hadn’t done a good job’? Cadance was the one good thing that prison of a school had going for it! The very notion that Cadance thought she had somehow failed Adagio rather than the other way around ignited a fury within Adagio that, after everything she’d been through that day, she didn’t think was possible. She wanted to tell Cadance how wrong she was, to force the dean to see that she was far more than she was giving herself credit for. She wanted to tell her a million things, but she couldn’t. Her failing voice wouldn’t let her talk for another minute, let alone the hours it would take to express all the virtues Cadance had embodied in the brief time they’d known each other. So, when words failed her, Adagio allowed her actions to do the talking. She leaned forward, wrapping her arms around Cadance and pulling her into the tightest embrace her feeble body would allow her. She buried her face in Cadance’s shoulder, her utter inexperience in giving hugs made her wonder if she was doing this right, but she pushed it away. At this distance, not even Adagio’s mangled voice could stop her from telling the dean the truth. “You’re doing an amazing job,” she whispered. Any stiffness that Cadance had been holding onto since the revelation of Adagio’s true history evaporated as she returned the hug, taking some of Adagio’s own fears with it. Cadance was still damp from the rain, but Adagio didn’t care. If she could share whatever heat still clung to her pajamas from the dryer with the dean she would do so in a heartbeat—anything to show her how important she really was. It wasn’t like hugging Twilight; the few times she and Twilight had embraced, she’d felt something… something she didn’t understand. With Cadance it was different: no confusion, just safety. Warmth. Understanding.  Adagio didn’t know how long the hug lasted, only that it ended too early when she succumbed to another fit of coughing. Cadance rubbed her back gently, waiting for it to subside before standing up and addressing the room. “Okay,” she said, “I don’t think there’s anything else we can accomplish here tonight. We all need time to process, and more than that Adagio needs to rest and recover.” “I could go get a pillow from my room,” offered Twilight, but Cadance shook her head. “Siren or not, and no matter what Abacus Cinch has to say about it, Adagio is still my student, and that means she’s my responsibility. She can stay with me.” Cadance looked at Adagio. “If that’s what she wants.” The very notion of accepting Twilight’s hospitality after what Adagio had done to her was almost too unbearable to even imagine, but staying with Cadance? “I do,” croaked Adagio. “Good,” said Cadance. “Just two rules before we make it official. Number one: no punching walls.” Adagio nodded. “And number two: no lies.” Cadance smiled, lighting up the room around her. “Sound good?” It did.