The sounds of crashing static emanated through the archway to the living room. Annoyed—partially from the noise, but mostly because he should have known better than to leave his new guest to behave unattended—Shining marched a bit further down the hall, phone pressed against his ear.
“Say that again?” Shining grumbled into the phone, tone low. “I had something annoying in my ear.”
“Wow, rude,” the low voice chuckled back.
“Not you. This time.”
“Uh huh,” the voice grunted. “Anyway, no—beyond what you already know, there’s no word yet.”
“Uh huh, sure,” Shining scoffed, “because things are so secure now, right Bull? That what you’re telling me, or are you living up to your name again?”
“C’mon, Shiner, don’t be like that,” the voice groaned. “You know that they’re getting tight about the stuff we can talk about—”
“Around me, right?”
“You’re paranoid, man,” Bull’s voice groaned. “Look, I’m not feeding into this, so you’d best move on to whatever you called for. Unless you were just lookin’ for a reason to get yourself pissed off today?”
Frustration drew lines upon Shining’s brow and burned through his veins. There was so much he wanted to say. He wanted to yell, to shout, to call Bulwark out about every time that Shining would walk by and everybody would go quiet, or about how he’d have to eavesdrop on his fellow officers in order to hear them talk normally, or about the looks he caught people giving him any time he picked up a newspaper.
The easy picks, the patrols through the calmest neighborhoods, the pitying looks, the constant coddling.
“...Fine,” Shining said. “Fine. Well, I just wanted to let you know that I won’t be able to come in tomorrow.”
“Oh shit, forreal?” He sounded too damn excited. “You’re actually taking the time off?”
Constant. Coddling.
Like he was some kind of sickly pet.
“Tomorrow, Bull,” Shining casually grunted through grit teeth. “I won’t be coming in tomorrow.”
“And the day after?”
“I’m planning on it.”
“Damn.” Shining didn’t feel bad for Bulwark’s disappointment; he had it coming. “Well, I’ll put you in for it. Just let me know if anything changes, yeah?”
“Uh huh, thanks.” Shining tried to mean it. “Take it easy.”
“You too, man. Seriously.”
Shining ended the call. With a heavy sigh, shoving his phone into his pocket. For a moment, he just leaned against the wall, allowing himself a moment of peace in the silent—
Wait.
Shining turned around, gazing down the empty hall towards the now-silent living room, just in time to see Sunset—Sunny—do her best impression of a collapsing house of cards through the archway.
The officer and the corpse simply stared at each other, mouths agape. The expansion of its lungs made the body shift in a way that almost made Shining sympathetically wince.
“Hhhh...” it—she—tried. “...h-h-hhhhh... h-hi.” Her body slumped with a wheeze.
Was that funny? Even kind of funny? Maybe, if it weren’t for how disturbing it was. Was he bad if he felt the brief urge to laugh?
Wait, was she eavesdropping? Shining mentally went through everything he said, deciding with a small amount of relief that he didn’t say anything incriminating. He’d still have to be more careful, though.
It was staring at him. Did she want a response?
“...Hey,” Shining drily greeted the crumpled heap of flesh, dress, and blanket. “Watcha doin’?”
Whoosh in. “Ww-walk-king.” Whoosh out.
“You’re doing it wrong.”
In. “Mm w-ww-worknng on itt.” Out.
“You’ll get the hang of it eventually.” Shining found himself approaching the body. “’Riding a bike is like walking,’ or something like that.” He knelt down, meeting her—blue eyes, glassy gaze—as he held out a hand.
For the barest moment, she stared.
In. “Thaaa-aat’sh backwardsh?” Out. With deliberate jerks, Sunset—Sunny—dropped her cool hand into his.
“Sure, if you know how to ride a bike. Probably.” Shining grunted as he pulled Sunset to her feet, supporting her weight as he guided her back to the living room. “You’ve just got an extra step is all,” Shining nodded, stopping next to the couch. “Think fast.”
In. “Wha—?” The rest of her breath left her in a wheeze as Shining suddenly stepped away, letting go. Shining watched as she staggered, arms, shoulders, and head going limp as her feet rapidly, urgently danced. Her body tilted to and fro as feet repeatedly over-balanced and over-extended—
Her leg bumped into the couch, interrupting all of her efforts with a heavy whumph of the cushions.
“Maybe a few steps.”
In. “Y-y-youu...”
“Yeah, you’ll be fine. You’re welcome, by the way.” Sunset didn’t respond, apparently opting to span the length of the comfiest couch in his living room. With a shrug, Shining took two-and-a-half steps back, dropping himself blindly into the comfiest chair.
He tried not to sigh. He really did.
Damn, that felt too good.
The body on his couch turned and twisted its head on its shoulders, eyes wandering over the surfaces of his living room.
In. “I llliike your hhouuse.” Out.
Shining welcomed the chance at small-talk. “Me too. Not bad for my first house.”
In. “F-firsht?”
“Right out of the parent’s house,” Shining nodded. “Though, it’s not like I didn’t have help. Never would’ve been able to get something this cozy by myself, that’s for sure.”
Sunny also nodded. “L-lucky. It’sh warm.” Out.
“I’d friggin’ hope so, I only got it fixed last month.”
Sunny nodded.
Silence.
“Say, Sunny.” Eyes rolled to meet his, that glassy, lifeless gaze—
Shining forced his eyes slightly to the left. She probably wouldn’t notice.
“Where did you live before this, anyway?”
In. “Beforee...?” Out.
“Yeah. Before...” He gestured broadly at her sprawled form.
In. “Yourr turn.” Out.
“What the—no, it’s not.”
In. “It ish.”
Shining threw his hands into his hair, groaning in exasperation. “No, it’s not! The last time, I asked if you preferred pop or rock, to which your answer was that you apparently liked both, but I guess you figured that you could milk me for all of the information I was worth, which is running out might I add.”
In. “Hmm...”
“No.”
“...Y-your turn—.”
“Sunset Shimmer was pretty darn good at walking.”
“Doeshn’t count.”
“My foot ‘that doesn’t count.’ It’s a super simple answer for a super simple question.” There was a pause.
The pause became silence.
In. “Not a shimple q-q-questionn.” Out.
Progress. “And why’s that?”
In, but a brief pause. “...Can’t rememberr.” Out.
Whatever.
“Fine, be that way. I’m gonna get a drink—.”
Inhale. Shining paused, hands on the armrests, as he was moving to rise from his chair.
“Nno. R-rreally.”
Shining waited for more elaboration.
Exhale.
“...That’s it?” Shining leant forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
Sunny turned away, jerking her chin up and down.
“You really can’t remember?”
Sunny again twisted her head to face him. In. “Th-think I’mm ll-lyingg?” Out.
“Well I’m pretty sure you’re not truthing,” Shining sighed, shaking his head. “You remembered your diary of all things, and you can’t remember your own home?”
Suddenly, the body moved, expression twisting in agony, arms and legs shooting out to the side, and Shining jumped to his feet in alarm—
“L-l-lloooong dayyyyy!” Sunset groggily, noisily, and oh-so-deliberately childishly whined. “Leeave ‘lone!” The rest of her breath left her in a fluctuating wail.
The one corpse that could talk and it was a comedian determined to make ole Shiner the ass of its jokes.
“...I’m getting a friggin’ drink.” Shining turned towards the hall. “You want anything?”
In. “No, thanksh.” Out. She sounded so darn satisfied.
“Good, ‘cause I wouldn’t’ve gotten it. Be right back—and actually don’t mess with my stuff, this time.”
Shining didn’t wait for a response, marching out of the archway towards the kitchen and yanking open the fridge as soon as it was within reach. Juice, tea, milk... Beer? No, Shining needed to keep his wits about him, today. Tea would be good enough. Hot tea. Shining set the kettle onto the stove.
Thump. Shining looked over his shoulder. Sunny—of course it was Sunny—was leaning against the archway, apparently planning out her next step. Unsteady feet made several false-starts and close calls, but soon enough she rounded the archway into the hall.
She did it. Sunset’s arms were swung out and around with each step, refusing to touch the walls. One, two, three excessively clumsy steps, but she was walking—
Sunny stepped on the wrong side of her foot, collapsing to the floor with a meaty crash.
Shining did wince. “Hi again.”
In. “H-heyy.” Out.
“Need something?” Shining made his way back over, offering a hand. “I know you know how to shout.” At an almost unnatural angle, her hand met his.
In. “B-borrred. Left ‘lone.”
“It’s only been a minute,” Shining sighed as he pulled the body to its feet. Awkwardly, he helped her the rest of the way to the kitchen, setting her in one of the chairs. “I’m still not getting you anything.”
Sunny shrugged before limply flopping forward. There was a body slumped over Shining Armor’s table. What the hell was a dead friggin’ body doing at Shining Armor’s table?
Shining turned his head with a quick, deep sigh, opting to stare at the tea kettle. That wasn’t a body at his table, that was Sunny. Or Sunset. Probably Sunny. But maybe...
It was too quiet. He was getting too lost in his thoughts. Shining glanced at the table, question on his tongue.
Glassy eyes stared.
The question died before it had a chance.
Shining truly tried to hold its gaze. “W-what.”
In. “Booorrred.”
“And why are you staring at me?”
“Wwaaaiting for you to d-do shomething f-f-funny.” Out.
Ugh. “Well can you not be so creepy about it?”
In. “Nnn-n-nnope.” Out. Sunny stared.
She stared like an unblinking body.
Shining needed a distraction.
“Yeah, sorry, but I don’t feel like being laughed at right now.” With a small amount of effort, Shining brushed the bag of bread, jar of spread, and tin of coffee to the side. There, now there was a small, perfectly unobstructed television.
With the press of a button, noise and color filled the room, and of course it was some kind of cheap drama—as though he didn’t have enough drama in his life.
Shining offered Sunset a glance. Strangely enough, she seemed enthralled. Her eyes were wide and jaw gaped as she simply stared into the brightly lit screen. As Monsieur Fraise wept over a harsh rejection at the hands of the oh-so cruel and aloof Bertha (and in front of Cream Puff, no less—how scandalous!), Sunny jerked and shifted until she could properly face the screen without being bothered by her own body’s limitations.
Briefly, Shining thought to change the channel to something that was actually good, but it seemed to keep Sunset happy enough. Now he could go back to staring at his kettle until it whistled in peace.
He stared.
And stared.
Great, now he was bored.
Okay, he’d give the show a shot.
Shining pulled out a chair of his own and watched. As expected, it was pretty dumb. The pacing was strange, he could never tell what time of day it was supposed to be, and why did everybody always have to slap Monsieur Fraise? But more interesting than that was Sunny. It seemed like everything that happened got some kind of enjoyment out of her. The jokes. The drama. The unrealistic coincidences. The perpetual slapping.
Especially the slapping. He knew this rascal was evil.
The old grandfather clock chimed and the water still hadn’t come to a boil. Then again, if it was already chiming the hour, then it hadn’t been that long since Shining put the heat on. That clock was always a few minutes too fast—
Cadance usually got home around this time if she wasn’t spending time with Celestia.
“Hey, Sunny.” Shining Armor abruptly stood up from his chair. “Wait here for a bit, will you? I need to take care of something.” He didn’t wait for a response. Shining paced to the front door, then back and forth at the entryway.
Cadance could be home soon. What would she say? A dead girl was in their kitchen. What would he say, ‘a dead girl is in our kitchen’? Sunset’s really was in their kitchen after all. That, or this was the worst nightmare he’s had yet.
But of course this wasn’t a nightmare; not in the literal sense. Probably. Sunset was in his kitchen and he still didn’t know what to tell Cadance.
Shining heard a car pull into the driveway.
Cadance was home. No putting it off now. In record time, Shining Armor tapped the first number on his speed dial, hoping beyond hope that Cadance was just pulling her phone off of the car’s charger—.
“Hello?”
Thank goodness.
“H-hey, uh...” Shining swallowed. “Hey Cadence.” Damn it, he had to tell her, but how was he supposed to do that? What was he supposed to say? Relax, Shining, just keep it calm... “...How was your day?”
“It was...” Cadance sighed over the phone. “...Well, it’s getting better, bit by bit. But before that, how was yours? You sound stressed; is everything alright?”
“It, uh...” Shining cleared his throat. Was he that obvious? “W-well—.” Shining heard a breeze strike Cadance’s phone. “I’m at home,” he tried. “And we have a guest.”
“Oh?” Shining heard the car door shut in the driveway. “I’ll be in in a second! Anyone I know—?”
“It’s Sunset Shimmer,” Shining blurted with a shocked blink. “W-well, I think—no, she could be Sunset—damn it.” Shining cleared his throat, scratched his chin, paced while clutching his phone. “S-she’s-I think she’s sitting at our table, and, uh. C-Cadance, I—.”
“Shh, it’s okay, Shining.” Damn it, he knew she’d do that. “I’m here. I’m right at the door, Shiny.” A jingle of keys, but then it stopped. A gentle knock on the door. Shining could hear her talking on the other side. “Can you let me in? Please?”
“Yeah, I’m right here.” Shining only paused to glance back down towards the dining room, where the TV continued to run. Without wasting any more time, he unlocked and opened the door. Not a moment passed after it opened before Cadance’s purse was dropped to the ground.
A kiss to the lips, to the cheek, and a tight embrace. The familiar ritual that brought a bit of peace to Shining’s nerves.
“Welcome home,” Shining murmured into Cadance’s ear and his phone, smiling again when she felt her chuckle against him.
“Thanks, hon,” Shining heard in both ears. “It’s good to be home.” The tone of the ended call rang in his ear shortly after.
Shining wanted to stay like that for a bit longer, but Cadance apparently had another plan, moving to stare into his eyes, her forehead pressed against his.
“I don’t have a fever,” Shining offered. “I already checked.”
“I just wanted to make sure,” Cadance admitted with a sigh. “You’re scaring me, Shining. I mean, you... well,” Cadance set about removing her high-heels. A distraction and a delaying tactic, he knew; something to do while she gathered her words and thoughts. “Did...” She eventually began, “you just say that-that Sunset Shimmer was in our house?”
“Yeah. W-well, no. I mean—,” Shining shifted his weight, crossing his arms, and sighed. How the hell could he say this? By just saying it, obviously, but how could he ‘just say it’ to his almost-wife?
Shining took another breath. “There’s...” No, no sense in choosing words. Be direct, she’d appreciate that. Just get to the point, Shining. “Either that’s actually Sunset sitting in our dining room, or I really am losing my mind. She’s...” Shining swallowed nerves through a dry mouth. Shining looked into Cadance’s purple eyes.
That was a mistake. He found that ever-present love, yes, but also skepticism and fear. She was afraid for him.
“Sh-she’s in there.” Shining asserted, the shake in his voice catching him off guard. He hated it. “Right now. Th-the TV’s still running, she was watching it, I...”
“Shiny—”
“She’s in there, Cady. I swear it.” He gently took Cadance’s hands into his own. He didn’t just leave the TV on. He didn’t just wake up from another dream. “I-I’m not losing my mind, I can’t be. She’s really in there, Cadance.”
“Shh, breathe, Shining.” She rose, comfortingly squeezing Shining’s hand with her own. “Breathe with me, Shining...” Already she was trying to guide him to breathe as she did, the same exercise she taught the kids she babysat.
Cadance was treating him like a child.
Shining mentally shook himself free of such thoughts. No, no Cadance wouldn’t do that, not like that. She wasn’t like Bulwark, or Armstrong, or Brass, or any of them.
Cadance went through the motion again. With a gesture, she pulled the air in—
Hair. Eyes. Skin. Mark.
—pushed the air out—
Blanket. Dress. Coffee. Stitches.
—and Shining took a shaky breath that did nothing to calm his nerves. Cadance was getting nervous, even more than she already was. As he held tightly his hand over hers, he could feel her pulse start to race. Or was that his own? No, the way her eyes darted behind him—.
A glance back. Empty hall. Echoes and flashes of some kind of commercial.
Shining began to have second thoughts. Should he really let Cadance see? Seeing Sunset’s body the first time had, admittedly, deeply disturbed him. But the second time...
When they walked over to that entryway, they’d really see Sunset’s body, right?
She’d really be there, right?
“Shiny? Why don’t you show me where she is? Let me see her.”
She still didn’t quite believe him. It was too late to reconsider now.
“Let’s...” Shining quietly cleared his throat. “Yeah. Let’s go see her. With your own eyes. M-make sure I’m, uh...” What? He’s what? “...Make sure I’m not hallucinating or anything, right?” Stalling. He was stalling, babbling.
Just focus on Cadance, Shining. She might be scared. Shining certainly was. He just had to be ready to pull her away, if she needed it. Ready to comfort her if she needed it.
“N-no you’re not...” Cadance hesitantly nodded. “O-okay. Uh, you—who first?”
“Lead on.” Yeah, that was it. Shining was there for Cadance. “At your pace.” He ran his thumb over her knuckles reassuringly. “I’m right here.”
“Okay.” Cadance took a breath. “Heh, if this is some kind of prank,” she murmured as the pair quietly stepped their way towards the dining room, “you’re living at Velvet’s for a long time.”
“Ha, just put me in an asylum.” If she heard him, she didn’t say anything. They just simply moved one steady step at a time. Soon enough, she’d cross that entryway. She only hesitated for just a moment before peeking through the doorway—
Cadance froze. Posture rigid and body still, her breathing became shallower, yet steadier and quieter. She made no sound nor movement. The only sign that she saw anything was the sudden, dangerously strong grip on Shining Armor’s hand. It was the only sign that he needed.
It was true. He wasn’t trapped in a day-long hallucination. Cadance saw her, too. It was real.
Cadance. Was Cadance still breathing? He couldn’t tell. He needed to know.
With a gentle pulls, Shining urged Cadance away from the archway. The moment that she lost sight of the body, she spun into his arms, holding him in the tightest embrace that he’d ever felt. She was wheezing, shaking, panicking. Shining wrapped his arms around Cadance, stroking her hair in what he knew was a futile gesture.
“S-Shining...!” Her hoarse whisper escaped between rapid breaths. “Th-tha—in, in our...!”
“Yeah...” Shining wanted to kick himself. What else could he say? Sunset really was there. He wasn’t imagining this. She was there.
“W-why?” Cadance backed away just enough to meet her wide eyes to Shining’s. “Why is she here?” How is she—I don’t...”
“She, uh.” Shining swallowed. He’d never seen Cadance like that before. He’d never have wanted to. “Twilight just kind of... found her. At the library. I f-found them just, uh,” Shining cleared his throat. “talking.”
“Twilight?” Cadance was trying so hard to stay quiet. “Why Twilight? Is she okay—wait,” Cadance choked, “you find her and you bring here here? Why—” Hyperventilating, pulse racing, sweat coating cold palms and furrowed brow. Cadance was pulling at her own hair now, breathing out of rhythm. “—‘Talking’? What do you mean, talking? She—T-Twilight, w-what—?”
“Twilight’s fine,” Shining gently interrupted. “I don’t think she recognized her. And so far, Sunset...” Shining shook his head. “Well, so far, she’s been mostly harmless. Friendly even. Been trying to learn more about—”
“Shining Armor, that is a dead girl’s body, what the hell do you mean ‘she was talking’.” She hadn’t even finished when she turned away, posture hunched with her face in her hands. “What’s happening?” She muttered. “Why? W-what’s h-happening...”
“I don’t know, Cady.” Shining pulled Cadance back into a hug that he knew they both needed. “We’re okay,” he murmured, not knowing what else to say. “We’ll be fine. She won’t be here for long.”
“W-why did you bring her here? Couldn’t you have brought her to the station?” Shining sighed, saying nothing. “Couldn’t you have, have brought her to a hospital?” Shining wanted to shake his head but knew that Cadance would feel it. “Why did you bring her here?”
It was the right thing to do.
“It’s the right thing to do.”
“You don’t know that,” Cadance muttered through her tears. “You can’t know that.”
Shining knew that. Of course he didn’t know what was ‘right,’ but he most certainly knew that anything else he could’ve done would’ve been wrong. Maybe bringing Sunset home wasn’t a perfect idea, but it was the best he had. Shining was doing his best.
Cadance would understand. She just needed to meet Sunset, then she’d understand.
It was warm, it was cold, and there was something happening on the other side of that archway.
She could hear the breathing, the hushed whispers, the soft crying, and the occasional soft thud. Judging by the shoes at the entryway, Shining didn’t live alone. Somebody else must have come home, but who was it? What were they talking about? Why haven’t they come in yet? They’ve been there for a while.
Could it be a new friend?
“Hey, Sunny.” That was Shining’s voice from the archway, but Sunset couldn’t see. Jerking her body up and twisting her shoulders, Sunny belatedly noticed the gasp as her head lolled into a position where she could adequately make out the pair—
Pair? Yes, there was a new person, she knew it! But was she new? She looked so familiar. That pink skin, that colorful melody in her hair, and those big, wide eyes.
Sunset knew her. But where...
“Sunny Song, this—”
In. “C-Cadenza.” Mi Amore Cadenza. Yes, that’s who she was; Sunset knew her well. Too well. So many memories rumbled through her mind, nebulous but very very loud.
Dislike, distrust, disgust, disdain for every ounce of disrespect that Cadenza’s very existence delivered onto her. An enigmatic symbol of, of...
Sunset hated her.
But somehow, Cadenza was wrong.
Hm.
“Oh, you’ve met?” Was that grit Sunny heard in Shining’s teeth?
“W-well,” Cadenza said in that same voice, “I wouldn’t be too surprised. I mean, our schools are rivals. So, u-uh... Sun—can I call you ‘Sunny—?’”
“Sunshet.” Sunny blinked. That was hostile. She didn’t mean to say that. Despite that, she couldn’t help but feel satisfaction at the way Cadenza’s breath hitched.
“S-Sunset. Right. Sorry.” A beat of silence and staring, only barely too long before Cadenza cleared her throat. “Well, it’s nice to properly meet you Sunset! I hope my husband’s treated you well.”
“Fiancé, actually,” Shining offhandedly corrected.
“Husband,” Cadenza amended.
Cadenza was married? That didn’t seem right.
In. “H-he dropped mee on your c-couch.” Out.
Cadenza blinked, brow furrowed. Her mouth opened. Her mouth closed.
“Technically, she dropped herself.”
Cadenza’s mouth flapped as she was torn between glaring at Shining or gaping at Sunny. She looked so incredulous. So silly.
A sharp whistle cut through the air, growing and growing in volume.
“Oh right, I was making tea.” Shining stepped around the two girls. “You want some?”
In—
“Sure,” Cadenza cut in. “Thanks, hon.”
Hmph. Of course. Sunset just sighed, closing her mouth and turning back to face the TV. Silence returned to the kitchen as Shining removed the kettle. With nothing important left to look at, Sunny turned her gaze back towards the TV. Monsieur Fraise was about to find out that Cream Puff was actually—
Across the table, Cadenza took a seat.
Great.
“So, Sunset,” Cadenza began. Sunny, reluctantly, turned her eyes to meet Cadenza’s too-manufactured smile. “How do you like our home?”
In. “It’sh n-nice.” Out.
“I’m glad you think so. We did our best with it.” A beat, occupied by overly dramatic wails and the stirring of a mug. “Oh, do you want some tea, too?”
Sunny glanced at Cadenza, meeting her oblivious smile with a smirk of her own. In. “Y-yesh, pleashe—”
“Nope,” Shining called over his shoulder. “Nuh-uh, not happening.”
“Wha—” Cadenza twisted in her seat, “Shiny, don’t be mean.”
“She started it,” Shining grunted, taking a seat next to Cadenza and placing her mug (a pink, gaudy, ‘World’s Prettiest Princess’ mug, no less) in front of her. “Ever since I met her, she hasn’t cut me a break.”
In. “You s-s-say that liiike you don’t l-like me.” Out.
“Probably because I don’t, ya’ jerk.”
“Shiny!” Cadenza was quick to admonish. “Don’t worry, Sunset. I think we both can tell that he at least kind of likes you.”
Sunny wasn’t worried. Only annoyed.
“Okay, maybe more than ‘kind of’ if he brought you home, but you get it.”
In. “Yesh.” It was so strange. Cadenza hadn’t said anything bad. If anything, she was being nice.
Why did Sunny want her to just stop talking?
“So, uh not to sound rude...” Cadenza daintily blew on her tea before taking a sip. “But what brings you to our home, anyway?”
In. “Ssshhhining.” There was a pause as Cadenza waited for her to elaborate.
She didn’t.
“What Sunny means,” Shining started with a sigh, “is that I brought her here to make sure she stays out of trouble while we figure out what to do next. After I got to rest my mind a little, at least.”
“Oh, I see...” Did she really? One look at Cadenza’s face told Sunny that she didn’t, but maybe she was biased. “Well, what kind of things do we need to figure out?”
“Well, first and foremost we need to find a place for Sunny here to stay that’s out of the way.”
“Out of the—” Cadenza spluttered, shifting to face Shining Armor. “Shiny are we just going to keep Sunset secret?”
Oh boy.
“Well, that was the idea. Or at least keep her—or anyone else, but mostly her—away from trouble until...” Shining stared into the steam wafting from his mug. “...well, until we figure something better out, I guess.”
“But we’re going to just... ‘hide her away’ somewhere? ‘Out of sight, out of mind’?”
“No, Cady. Not that—never that. That’s why I’m looking at options.”
“But the way you make that sound...” Cadenza set down her mug with a shake of her head. “How could that be fair to Sunset?”
‘I’m right here, you stupid, pink—’
“Sunset.” Sunny blinked, eyes drawn to Cadenza’s purple. “Sunset, are you okay with that?”
In. “N-nope.” Out.
“Right, so what do you want?”
In. “I w-want to knoww who I amm.” Out.
“I...” A blink. A deep breath. “...Well, yes. I get that—I mean, I heard that—but..." Carefully kept fingernails tapped the side of the mug as Cadenza chewed her lip. “I meant about this,” Cadenza vaguely elaborated as she gestured to the air around her. “Where you stay and what you do and where you’re going to go. Are you okay with being treated like some kind of, of...”
In—
“F-frrreak?” Sunset suddenly croaked through a half-taken breath, blinking in surprise.
“You’re not,” Cadenza was quick to lie. “Sure, you’re pretty... different, let’s say.” Sunset blinked. “But ignoring your differences to everybody else, what do you want? How do you want us to treat you?”
Shining opened his mouth to speak, but abruptly cut himself off at Cadenza’s glance.
All eyes were on Sunny.
What did she want? Where did she want to be? With Twilight, obviously, but Shining said she couldn’t do that, and she didn’t have the dexterity or resources to sneak her way to Twilight anyway. Maybe Old Flint? No, no, that’s a cemetery; Sunset was not stepping foot into a cemetery again without good reason, and living there—un-living there?—was definitely not a good enough reason.
Here? In this house, maybe?
No, Shining was a jerk.
Actually, perhaps this would be a good choice for now. Shining was a jerk, but a useful one.
The house was warm.
“Sunset,” Cadenza snapped her from her reverie. “Where did you live before you—”
“Shutt up,” Sunset spat in a fit of explosive anger. Her vision swayed with her body as rampant thoughts robbed her of her focused control. How dare she, stupid Cadenza, try to-to step in and try to make her—!
“Okay!” The woman raised her hands placatingly, defensively, like one would thing to do for a rabid dog. “Okay. I won’t bother you about it. But if you do think about something...” Cadenza hesitated. For a moment, the woman worked her jaw, trying to form words that would do nothing but drive her further away.
There was a tense silence that even Sunny could feel.
“...I need to wash up. Get this stupid makeup off.” Gently, Cadenza set her mostly-full mug onto the table. “And to organize my thoughts a little,” she added with a laugh that she so clearly didn’t feel. “I’ll be upstairs for a little bit. Just shout if you need me, alright? Either of you.”
“Sure thing, Cady.” Shining’s tone was even. Flat.
How long had Shining been staring at Sunset?
“Alright. Good. I’ll be back in a bit. Behave, you two.”
A beat. Then two. Then, awkwardly, Cadenza shuffled away.
In silence, the officer and the dead girl stared.
“I won’t say this twice.” Shining stated, voice low but firm with audible emotion. “Be nice to my wife.”
In. The ‘or what’ was already on Sunset’s tongue—
“Sunset, be nice to Cadance.”
“S-sorry,” Sunset found herself sighing.
With a slow nod, Shining took a sip from his own mug. “It’s getting late. I still have calls to make and things to check.”
But Sunny only barely heard him, mind a blur. She didn’t know what she was feeling. Anger? Resentment? Regret? Everything. Sunny was feeling everything and nothing.
Cadenza wasn’t in the room anymore. What was all that? Every time she looked at Cadenza’s stupid face, she just...
“Oh, and your dress,” Shining continued, drawing Sunset from her cloud of mindless thoughts. “As much as I’d love to see you get processed with it, I think it would save heartache for everyone if you took it off before we sent it to the cleaners.”
He was so bad at being mean.
In. “Rright.” Ah, wait, she couldn’t be naked. That was bad. “Ch-chaaange?” Out.
“I’m sure Cadance has some stuff she’d let you borrow. Want to get on that now?”
In. “C-C-Cadennz’s in the baaathroom?”
“Yeah, I know you’d appreciate the extra walking space, but I think the guest bathroom would be enough to change clothes.”
Sunny nodded, and Shining was again on his feet, carefully adjusting her arm slung over his shoulders. The stairs were an adventure far greater than the steps to the porch. It took all of Sunny’s focus to remember to raise foot after foot, tilting neither forward nor back lest she hurt Shining.
Climbing stairs. It would take a long time to be able to do that again.
A longer-than-expected walk down a hall, a single turn and an open door. Beyond that door was a rather pretty sight. Artistically tiled floors, polished brass, a chair and a vanity inside of a rather spacious bathroom. So clean. So shiny.
A bathtub. A real bathtub big enough for her to lie in that probably had a working hot-water nozzle and oh gosh for some reason Sunset’s knees grew weak with nostalgia and something else; something reserved for seeing something that one once had and loved but could never have again.
Could she live here? Just this room would be fine. Twilight Sparkle and Old Flint could visit, and Shining Armor could stop by every now and then. It would be perfect.
Sunny wanted to use that bathtub.
No. No, she couldn’t. That—she didn’t want to impose. That wasn’t hers, she didn’t have the right to it. Not yet. Maybe one day.
“Okay, you know what,” Shining grunted as Sunny realized she was simply dangling off of his shoulder. A few quick steps and a twist later, Shining had deposited Sunny onto the vanity’s chair. The large mirror in front of her reflected an admittedly grave image. Sunny couldn’t explain it as she stared.
She looked like the girl in the picture, Sunset Shimmer. She looked like her, but she also looked wrong.
“There we go. You do your thing; I’ll go get that change of...” A look. A moment of hesitation.
In. “Whaat?”
“Uh, well.” Shining awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. “Do, you—I mean, that dress is pretty elaborate. Do you know how to take it off, or...”
...Oh.
Crud.
“I, uhh...” Sunny shed her blanket, pushing and pulling and raising her shoulders and arms, twisting her head, her neck, and her body just trying to catch a glimpse of a solution.
“Hey, lean forward a little?”
“Hmm?” Sunny did, taking the opportunity to see of the solution was for some reason near her legs—
“Ahhhh, heck.” That didn’t sound good. “You, uh... This dress is tied all the way up your back. I’ll go get Cadance—”
“No,” Sunny wheezed, before sucking in another breath.
“No no, nope,” Shining interrupted, his reflection shaking its head behind hers. “You’re going to need help with this and I’m not doing it. I don’t know what your problem with Cadance is, but remember that you’re in her house, too.”
Sunset grit her teeth.
“...Look,” Shining sighed. “Just give her a chance, alright? She’s doing her best. We all are.”
Sunset didn’t want to.
“Do you want this dress cleaned or not?”
...
“Thish hash to b-bee shome kind of c-c-criiime,” Sunny sighed.
“Pretty sure you’re wrong,” Shining briefly smirked with a small pat on Sunny’s shoulder. “Besides,” he called, turning away, “what would you do, call the police?”
In. “Y-y-you know I wwaaant to!” Sunny called after him, but he had already fled the scene.
Now all she could do was wait.
Great.
It didn’t take long, as it turned out. Only some number of minutes—of taking in the elaborate guest bathroom later, and Cadenza had already entered, free of formal wear and makeup and she actually looked kind of nice without makeup and that thought made Sunset furious but Shining said she was supposed to play nice so she’d try not to—
“Hi, Sunset,” Cadance greeted with a tense smile. “Fancy meeting you again.”
In. “Hhi.” Out.
“So...” Cadance padded her way into the room, movements slow, eyes flitting between Sunset’s back and reflection. “Oh gosh, you have nice hair.”
In. “Hm.” Play nice, Sunny, play nice. “Th-thaanksh.” Out.
“You’re welcome, just saying.” Pink hands rested on the back of Sunset’s chair over the blanket. “So, right. You needed help with your dress?”
Sunset inhaled with a nod. “It’sh tied onn.”
“Right. Well, let me take a look and see what I can do. Lean forward please?”
Sunny did. Warm hands shifted her hair to the side before delicately plucking at something on her back.
“G-gosh,” Cadenza chuckled pathetically, “this thing’s really tied on, huh? N-never seen a laced-back dress outside of movies.”
In. “L-la-aced?” Out.
“Yeah. Really tight, too. If I could just hurry up and g-get this, this knot...” Sunset could hear the unsteady sigh behind her. Whole minutes passed of just breathing and pulling and whispers and sighs.
“C’mon, hurry up,” Cadenza muttered. “Please, just...”
Inhale—
“Got it!” Cadenza sighed in relief as she began tugging and pulling. “Wow, I thought that stupid knot would never come out!”
“Mm p-pretty shure th-th-thaaaht’sh the idea.” Out.
Cadenza took a breath, as though about to speak, but abruptly fell silent.
In. “W-wwas joke.” Out.
“O-oh.” A soft clearing of the throat. “Right, ha ha—uh,” the light tugs on her back paused. “Can I? Laugh at that, I mean.”
In. “Shure.” Out.
“Right.” For some reason, Cadenza didn’t laugh. There were no sounds except for string being pulled through cloth.
The tugging paused as Sunny took in a deep breath. She was able to take in so much air now that the dress was loose. Probably not much more, but more than expected. Dropping her head, Sunny gazed down at the somewhat-loose chest of her dress, streaked with coffee as it was. She really hoped that those stains came out—
“Is something wrong?” Sunny blinked. As she twisted her head and shoulders to look at Cadenza, Sunny’s head lolled back and Cadenza cringed. “I-I just,” Cadenza tried again, “well, I thought you were trying to s-say someth—doesn’t that hurt?”
“Dooeshn’t w-w-what hurrt?” Out.
“I—Right, nevermind, sorry.” One last long pull. “Well, that’s the last of the string. String? Cord? Sorry, I’m not sure the actual term,” Cadenza awkwardly laughed. Wasn’t she was supposed to be good at this stuff? “I’ll, uh...” She placed the string onto the vanity’s counter. “Well, do you need to take off your bra, or can I just—.” Her mouth shut with clack of teeth. “Should I just go?”
‘Please do.’
Sunny nodded.
“Okay, uh...” The sound of slippers on the floor. “I’ll just—I mean, if you’re sure...”
In. “Mhm.” Out.
A beat.
“Okay.” A sigh. “I’ll... I’m right outside if you need something.”
A silence.
A click.
Finally, Cadenza was gone. Sunset could relax.
With much effort and several minutes of awkward twisting and pulling, a single arm was finally freed. Thankfully, much of the dress drooped away with the sleeve. Sunset glanced down at her mostly bare body.
The stitches.
Sunny blinked. Then again.
The stitches, thick and rough, pulling the skin taut against itself. Blue eyes roamed the pattern running from each shoulder down her ribs and curved under her breasts. The two lines of stitches met at the center of her chest, before running down her belly, around her belly-button and disappearing beneath the, uh... that smaller cloth.
That... wasn’t normal. A body didn’t need stuff like thread—gosh, those were thick. Was that even thread anymore?—to hold itself together, right? No. But why would...?
Ah. She’d been gouged out.
Right.
Sunny gently poked and prodded and plucked at the stitches and crease of folded skin they made between them. It looked so strange. She’d never seen such a thing before. No, that wasn’t true. She saw something like that on a, a, oh what was that called—‘baseball!’ Yes, a baseball. But such a thing didn’t belong on people, right? Was it because she was dead?
Right, not just dead. She was different.
Sunset dared a glance up at the vanity mirror, beholding herself in all of her half—or perhaps three-quartered—dressed glory. The stitches, a large ‘Y’ shape except the top was more of a wide ‘U’. The stem met just under her sternum, running down the center of the rest of her discolored torso.
Sunset blinked. Yes, her body was a different color. She could see it right around the base of her neck. Everything below her neck was pale but dark; only distantly related to the color that was on her face and hands. Why? Looking at her hand, she could see the color abruptly change at her wrist as well. That also wasn’t normal. Gazing back at the mirror she took it all in, her body, her stitches that dull stare and the slight droop of her jaw.
She was ugly.
Sunny sadly shook her head. She knew she wasn’t pretty in the first place—well, she was, but not really—but to finally remember that...
It didn’t matter. The dress would hide it all anyway. It needed to be cleaned.
With her free hand and loosened collar, Sunny managed to slide her arm out of the other sleeve—
Lines. Ridges. Splits and valleys.
What?
That was...
No, something was wrong.
Arms didn’t look like that. Skin didn’t look like that. She glanced between her clear arm and the marred thing where her other should be. A pressure built in Sunset’s mind as she stared at the strange appendage that was attached to her shoulder. She stared and stared because she knew—she forgot much but she knew—that arms weren’t supposed to look like that.
Her arm.
Her arm looked so pale and ugly and wrong and, and...
...Disgusting.
Yes, disgusting. She was disgusting. The pressure faded as Sunny eased back into the chair. She traced the patterned marks line by line by scratch by slice; as ugly out as she was in. They were her reminder. She deserved this.
Sunset threw her arm to the side out of her sight. She was suddenly cold. Shivering, she planted her hands on the counter—
Ugly. Disgusting. Unworthy.
—Tore her eyes away, she just needed to keep her eyes forward. She stared ahead, finding the vanity mirror—
Your own making. Your own fault.
—Nothing was working, she just slammed her eyes shut as she shoved herself upright—
So dark. So cold. Nobody there. Unworthy.
—Fell back against the chair with a breathless cry. She couldn’t escape, she couldn’t get out. Everywhere she looked and everywhere she didn’t, on her body and inside of it, she found constant reminders of her marks, her punishments, what she deserved.
She deserved this.
Shaking, freezing, Sunset threw her arms and legs and back against the chair over and over and over, desperately trying to escape the limbs of scars old, scars new, split and cleaved flesh, memories, regrets, guilt, pressure, almost too much—
Stillness. Calm. Nothing. She deserved this. She deserved this—
Sunny tried to scream. She was screaming, but she had no air. She needed air, but she couldn’t breathe. The world was suffocating her, and she didn’t know if she could last, but that was okay.
That was normal.
This was normal.
She had this coming.
She deserved this—
Air bubbled through Sunny’s throat, exiting as a gurgling scream. Her arm—her leg?—collided with the vanity, crashing both herself and the chair to the ground and she was making so much noise and she tried to hold still but she couldn’t. She couldn’t get away from her own arm, or her own legs, or the darkness that hid behind her eyelids, or the freezing cold. She reached for her blanket—
Last one. One more.
One more.
More.
More.
—Sunny writhed and twisted, gurgling and spitting. She curled into a ball, desperate for warmth, but that only pulled the disgusting, ugly, monstrous, demonic, parts of her closer and she wanted to close her eyes but the dark, cold, empty, undeserving, nothing was waiting for her behind her eyelids, and she was all alone, all alone, her own fault, she deserved—
“Sunset!” Constant knocking on the hollow door. “Sunset? Are you okay?!”
Cadenza.
“Shiny, something’s wrong! Sunset, I’m coming in. I’m coming in, okay?”
Mi Amore Cadenza.
“C-C-Ca-Khkk—!” Sunset couldn’t talk. Something in the way. In, wetly. Force it out. “C-C-Cad-ennzzakkh...!” In. “P-plsh!”
“I-I’m coming in!” Latch turned, door flew, slammed, a harsh gasp, “Sunset!” Pink and purple and yellow and wide eyes—eyes—!
“N-nho!” Sunny curled, rolled, limbs crossed, covered twisted. “D-dhont l-loo-loook—!” Hands and fingers and arms covered and hid the offending marks, but every time a hand covered one, another was revealed. Cadenza could see everything.
Nothing was right and nothing was fair. Cadenza stood and stared and saw Sunset in a way that she never wanted Cadenza to see. Nobody was ever supposed to see her, but Cadenza of all ponies did. Now she’d know that Sunset was ugly, broken, unworthy, not good enough, never good enough.
Sunny was paralyzed, frozen on the ground with nowhere to look or hide.
She wanted to scream, to shout, to hide, to cry. Her mind was storming and she was caught in the endless tide of crashing thoughts.
‘Go away—'
‘come back—'
‘don’t look at me—'
‘please help me—'
‘Leave me alone!’
‘I don’t want to be alone.’
Unworthy.
Cold, sharp, the world rushing too fast—
Soft.
Sweet.
Warm.
“Shh,” Cadenza soothed, maneuvering both of their trembling bodies on the floor until they were facing the bathtub and nothing else. Bright lights, porcelain, and a curtain of pink and purple and yellow hair. Sunny still shook, squirmed, and struggled to escape herself, and Cadenza helped her. Cadenza leaned Sunny’s back against her front simply held the squirming corpse close. Sunset’s marred arm was trapped against her side as Cadenza held her close. A trembling hand against Sunny’s forehead kept her facing the ceiling.
Cadenza was helping her.
“Shhh, it’s okay.” Sunny was shaking. Cadenza was shaking. “Y-you’ll be okay, okay? Just, uh...”
Sunny kept trying to talk, to tell Cadenza to just shut up, to please keep talking, to stop patronizing her, to keep comforting her, to go away because Sunset hated her, to please stay because Sunset needed her. She tried and tried but every breath that Sunset took left her in a broken, toneless cry. Sunny rolled her eyes up to Cadenza’s face.
She was crying.
Mi Amore Cadenza was crying. Why was she crying? Her smile trembled like water. Why was she shaking? She should be laughing, smirking, oozing with false pity, so why was she crying?
“Y-yes! Yes, just keep looking at me. You’ll be okay.” Sunny’s despairing moans grew suddenly harsh as Cadenza moved the hand on her head, but almost as soon as it left, the warmth of a blanket—her blanket—had been wrapped around her almost-bare body. “There, th-that’s much better, right?”
In.
“C-c’dn’,” Sunny cried.
In.
“C’dnzzr w-whaaaaa...!” Sunny screamed. Nothing was working. She couldn’t talk, couldn’t breathe, but she was so warm, so cold, so warm, frozen—
“No nono—here, uh, here...” Sunset felt Cadenza slip into the blanket, gently coaxing out her arm—clean, wrong, unworthy, the one that gives—with Sunset’s hand in her own. “Here, I,” Cadenza swallowed, “This is something I did with Twilight when she was younger and scared and, uh...”
Twilight? Twilight. Cadenza knew Twilight. Focus on Cadenza and Twilight.
“H-here, just—okay, so you hold your arm out like this—”
Sunny couldn’t stop it, she began to thrash again—
“N-no! No, no, you don’t have to look, okay? Just keep looking at me, okay?” Sunset obliged, keeping her eyes tied to Cadenza’s own. Cadenza’s eyes were so subtly shaking. Was that normal? That was, wasn’t it? Did her own eyes still tremble? It didn’t matter, Cadenza had such nice eyes.
“Yes, yes that’s it! Just look at me and feel the motion, okay? W-with your hand, you guide the good air to you, okay? It wants to find you; you just need to guide it. Just pull it in like this...”
Cadenza closed her eyes as she took a slow, deep breath through her nose. As she did, Sunny felt the warm hand guide her own to her chest.
“...and then you push the bad air out...” And as the wind shakily breezed through Cadenza’s lips, Sunny felt her arm extend again. “...like that. N-now breathe with me, okay? In...”
Sunny breathed in with the pull.
“...and out...”
Sunny cried out with the push. She shouldn’t be whining; she should be breathing. She just needed to breathe, why couldn’t she just—
“Good!” Cadenza nodded with a smile Sunset found difficult to believe. “That was good. Do it again? In...”
In.
“Out...”
The moaning cry turned into a frustrated scream as Sunny—
“Good, you’re doing so good!” Cadenza quickly lied. “It’s okay if you make noise, okay? It’s not the sound that’s important, just that you breathe in...”
In.
“...And out...”
Sunny cried out.
“...And in...”
In.
“...And out...”
A broken, shaking moan.
“...And in...”
In, wetly.
“...A-and out...”
A spluttering, whispering sob.
“...And in...”
Sunny squirmed in Cadenza’s hold, twisting and rolling, feeling the arms stiffly adjust to Sunny’s new position. She couldn’t smell, couldn’t taste, couldn’t feel anything other than the warmth of Cadenza’s arms around her back and shoulder against her face.
“A-and, uh... out...”
Muffled and blinded by Cadenza’s shoulder, Sunny wrapped her arms around Cadenza and cried.
Tired.
Exhausted.
Pooped. Over. Done.
No, not done. Never done.
Cadance sagged into the study’s couch with a sigh, pressed even further into the soft cushions by the cool body curled up against her from her lap.
It was difficult getting Sunset properly dressed, what with the girl refusing to let Cadance go for any reasonable amount of time. Yet, despite the struggle, Sunset and Cadance did it. Sunset was dressed in hilariously baggy sweat-pants and that fantastically hideous holiday sweater that Shining had gotten for Cadance that year. Talking at Sunset about how much Shining cringed and laughed when she first wore it around the house had pacified the girl just enough to guide her arms into the sleeves.
She had no idea what she could say to calm that girl down enough to let her go. It wasn’t very comfortable, being weighed down and bound by the cold arms of the cool body of a very-much-so-dead girl that was Sunset Shimmer, this was Sunset Shimmer, she’s dead, she’s holding a dead—
Good air in...
‘This is fine, Cadance. You’re safe. This is weird, but safe.’
...Bad air out.
Following her own exhale, Cadence felt the rush of room-temperature air brush against her neck as Sunset’s body deflated against her. Cadance tried not to shiver, truly she did, but if the way the body shifted was anything to go by, she probably failed.
Cadance glanced helplessly at Shining who was only feet away at his desk. Shining met her gaze and shrugged helplessly back, continuing to type away on his laptop and phone.
His old radio was off. And his jacket was on.
Cadance was safe, right?
In...
In.
...Out.
Out.
The silence was too much.
“I’m...” Cadance mulled over how to politely express her fatigue. “I’m really darn tired.”
“Yup.”
In. “Mhm.” Out.
Ah, she spoke. Well, grunted. Hummed? Whatever.
“You okay?” Cadance murmured, giving Sunset’s shoulders a gentle squeeze.
Sunset sluggishly jerked her head up and down.
“That’s good,” Cadance hummed, idly rubbing Sunset’s back. “We’ve all had a long day today—you, especially.”
Another nod.
Silence.
‘...Awkward.’
“So, Shiny,” Cadance started, shifting in her seat, “think we can get Sunset’s dress to the cleaners’ tomorrow?”
Shining regarded her, brow raised.
Cadance meaningfully glanced at the form curled against her.
Shining’s mouth pursed in thought.
Cadance raised a brow of her own.
Shining conceded with a resigned nod.
“Well, all of my ideas are falling through so far, so I think we’d have time. Why, got something in mind?”
Perfect, Shiny.
“I was thinking of getting Sunset here a change of clothes, just for her. Something that she isn’t practically swimming in, anyway,” Cadance giggled, giving the sweater a light pull.
Sunset trembled, but otherwise said nothing.
“Say, Sunset...” Sunset didn’t react.
That wouldn’t do. Cadance was not just going to talk at Sunset forever.
“Oh Sunset,” Cadance sang, giving the body’s back a couple of gentle pats.
After just a moment, Sunset raised her gaze to meet Cadance’s eyes. Her cold, cold, dead, deceased gaze.
Cadance hoped Sunny couldn’t feel the way her heart sped up again.
“I was wondering what kind of clothes you like. You seemed—,” Cadance’s heart froze, “—like a fashionable gal.”
Sunset stared.
Cadance mentally kicked herself for the slip of tongue, resisting the urge to swallow or chew her lip. Why did she keep doing that? Sunset was staring. There was no way that Sunset didn’t notice that. Sunset was staring. Was she mad or offended? Did she somehow manage to make her crap situation even worse—?
Sunset blinked.
Sunset breathed in, and Cadance wanted nothing more than to sigh in relief.
“L-ll-l-leatherr...” She breathed out.
“Oh?” Leather, huh? Cadance guessed as much from the pictures, but this wasn’t just about learning. “Leather everything, or...?”
Sunset shook her head.
Inhale. “Jaaackets.” Sunset’s head lolled to the side. “And v-vveshts.” Exhale.
“Ooh, what color?” Cadance buried her nerves beneath enthusiasm. “I bet you’d look good in purple.”
Sunset grinned, but shook her head. In. “B-black.”
“Black leather jackets, huh?”
“Mhm,” Sunset breathed through a smile.
“I don’t know if we can find something like that,” Cadance chuckled, “but I think I get your style, now. You’re a pretty bad gal, aren’t ya’?”
Sunset’s mouth jerked into an easy smirk that looked so much like the ones that Cadance saw in the pictures. So confident, so headstrong. So self-assured that nothing could get in her way. It was so easy to forget that the girl in those pictures had passed away—
Ugly stitches, meant to hold, not heal.
Pale flesh painted to imitate life.
Scars. Gashes. So neat. So orderly.
Slack-jawed and wide-eyed. What could a dead girl be afraid of?
Cadance held the girl a bit closer as she buried her face into Cadance’s shoulder.
Darn it. She forgot to keep talking. And her nerves were rising again.
In. In.
Out. Out.
“You’re pretty cool, y’know?” An awkward silence never stopped Cadance.
In. “You’rre w-warmmm...” Out.
“I think that’s your blanket,” Cadance laughed. “Or your sweater. I know for a fact that thing works.”
“Gosh, it’s ugly,” Shining chuckled along. “I couldn’t stop looking at it. I had to pick it up.” Cadance felt Sunset nod in agreement.
In. “I-I love iit.” Out.
“Me, too. But don’t worry,” Cadance sighed, patting Sunset’s back. “You can borrow it.”
In. “Thanksh.” Out.
“Anytime.”
There was silence again, interrupted only by Shining’s ‘I’m so incredibly done with this’ sigh and stretch.
“No luck?”
“None, hon. All spots are either too high-profile or not-at-all economic for us. That just leaves us with all of our Plan ‘B’s.”
“And what’re our ‘Plan ‘B’s’?”
“Good idea, Cady. What’d’ya have in mind?”
Cadance groaned. “You stink.”
In. “H-he doesh.” Out.
“I’m feeling pretty ganged up on right now.”
“Whatever, Shiny. Hm...” Cadance hummed in thought, belatedly realizing that she was idly playing with Sunset’s hair. Letting it drape back down Sunset’s back, she began going through her list. “Not Luna’s, obviously.”
“Right.”
“Not your parents place?”
“Nope.”
“You sure?”
“They get nervous that I carry a gun at work,” Shining scoffed. “Can you imagine if I brought home a body?”
Right. Body. Sunset’s dead. Sunset’s in her arms and dead, she was holding Sunset’s body against her own. A cold, weeks-old corpse was in her arms—.
In, and in.
Out, and out.
C’mon Cadance, just don’t think about it.
“Fair.” A beat. “What about—.”
Sunset breathed in again. Shining tilted his head in question at Cadance’s sudden pause, nodding in understanding as she patted the body’s back.
“C-cann’t I stay h-h-here?” Out.
Oh boy...
“W-well.” Cadance’s heart trembled when Sunset looked up as she looked down. “Well, you’re welcome to stay here tonight.” Sunset stared. “Tomorrow, too.” She stared. “I mean, do you have somewhere you’d like to go? Somewhere out of the way to live—,” Cadance cleared her throat, “—stay until we, uh... figure out...”
The eyes of a corpse held her gaze.
Cadance felt nothing but shame as she looked away.
In. “L-library.” Out.
Shining sighed in exasperation. “You can’t live in the library.”
In. “Y-yesh you can.” Out.
“No, Sunny,” Shining groaned, as though they had this talk before. “Try again.”
Cadance raised a brow. “Should I ask?”
“Later.”
In. “J-Joe’sh.” Out.
“You can’t live in diners, either!”
In. “T-Twilight—.”
“No.”
So sharp and cold. Too sharp. Cadance felt Sunset shiver in her arms. Cadance couldn’t stay quiet.
“Twilight, uh...” Cadance cleared her throat, clogged with nerves as it was. “Twilight lives with Shining’s parents. We don’t want to give them a heart-attack or something.”
Sunset was silent.
In. “Sh-sheem-shemetary.” She blinked. No way. “Th-the shedd.” Out.
“The,” Cadance swallowed, “the cemetery?” Sunset nodded. “Why?”
In. “Nnot here.” Out.
Oh no.
Cadance looked back to Sunset’s stare. Nothing. Blank. Neutral. Unreadable.
“No, I...” Cadance floundered. “We didn’t mean it like that. I promise we’re not trying to g-get rid of you or anything, just, uh...”
Sunset’s expression didn’t change. Cadance looked helplessly to Shining for some kind of help. He was apparently trying to think of what to say as well, mouth twisting in that way it does when he’s deep in thought.
“Sunny...” he began. “You... want to stay here?”
No no no no—
In. “C-Cadenza doeshn’t—.”
“No, what?” How did things suddenly go so wrong? “No, of course I’d like for you to stay! It’s just...” Oh no. What could she say? “...It’s complicated.”
Ohhh, and the one thing she said was one of the worst she could’ve. Of course.
“No, that’s...” Cadance backtracked. “That’s not right. I just... have concerns is all.” Ugh, and that was too vague.
“D-don’t wannt me h-hheeere.” Out.
“No.” Cadance couldn’t think of what to say. “No.” What could she say?
This girl in her arms, frail and vulnerable, crying, screaming, flailing in despair. So desperate for something to, to ground her? Hold her? Something that would send this girl into Cadence’s arms of all places.
Even dead, her face was so young. She was so small. Celestia always talked about Sunset—that bright, clever mind and headstrong personality. A true go-getter, driven, determined. Was this that same girl? She seemed nothing like that. Yet, she seemed everything like that.
So focused and so aloof, yet desperate for a truly human interaction. To feel cared about for beyond what they could offer or give.
A person they could talk to.
A place where they could laugh or cry.
Sunset would’ve looked good in a Crystal Prep uniform.
Cadance wanted Sunset to stay so bad, but Shining Armor. She couldn’t put all these days—these weeks—of Shining’s progress at risk.
“Cady.” Cadance blinked, eyes caught by her husband’s. “Can we talk?”
“Yes.” Cadance didn’t hesitate. They needed to talk. He needed to know how dangerous that could be. Cadance delicately shifted Sunset off of her lap—
A firm grip of cold hands. In. “N-no.” Sunset held Cadance to the couch and looked at her with those eyes, sad eyes, glassy dead eyes, and she looked so pathetic—
Cadance shook her head. “Sorry, Sunset, I’ll just be a minute, alright?” Cadance ran a hand through Sunset’s hair. She tried not to think of the ridge of thick thread on Sunset’s scalp. “We just need to talk, and then I’ll be right back, okay?”
“D-donn’t go.” Sunset insisted, urgent, desperate. “Don’ leave me ‘lone.” The hands of a dead body held her so tight.
“I-I...” Cadance glanced at Shining. He was there, standing by his desk. He was watching. Staring. His face was blank, but his hand hovered uncertainly.
Was she safe?
Darn it, he was only making her more nervous, just focus on it—her, focus on her.
“I need to, Sunset. I swear, this won’t take long.” Cadance rested her own hands over Sunset’s, giving them a soft, hopefully-comforting squeeze. “Please, Sunset. I’ll be right out in the hall, then I’ll come right back. Okay? I’ve heard the stories, I know you’re a pretty strong girl. So just a few minutes—five tops. Me and Shiny need to talk, then I’ll be right back here to talk about which room you can use and where the blankets are and what books you like to read because I know you have to like books if you’re friends with Twilight.
“Just... just let me go, okay? Five minutes.”
“...F-fiive...” The grip faltered. “F’ve minnutes...” Out.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
Good air in.
Good air in.
Bad air out.
...
...Bad air out.
Sunset let go.
“Thank you, Sunset,” Cadance sighed, rising to her feet. “We’ll be right back, I promise.”
In. “O-okkay...” Cadance took Shining’s arm in her hand, though more for her sake than his. They opened the door—
“C-come baack.” Soft. Sorrowful. A huddled form on the couch, staring at the doorway. “C-come back. Don’t l-leave mm-mmme—”
“Don’t worry, Sunny,” Shiny called from the doorway. “We’ll be quick. Besides, you’re in our house; it’s not like we have anywhere to run.”
In. “B-but...”
“Five minutes, Sunset.” Cadance held up her palm, fingers spread. “I’m counting. You can count, too, okay? Just five.”
“S-Shin’ng... C’denzzr...” Silence. The pair quietly stared at the body on their couch.
It took a breath.
“O-one... t-t-two...”
Cadance wanted to cry. “Thank you, Sunset. We’ll be right back.”
The door shut with a faint click.
“Cadance—”
“Shining, she can’t stay here.”
“But she wants to Cadance.” Their voices were low, hushed. “Wasn’t that what you wanted? To see what she wanted to do?”
“Yes, but this is too risky!” It took so much effort to not shout. “I’m worried—”
“About what, Cady? This would be the best solution. Think about it: we can watch her, we don’t get many visitors anyway, there’s no weird rent bills from a hotel or campground, and she’s around people who care.”
“Right, but what about you, Shiny?”
Confusion bloomed on his face and Cadance was torn between wanting to hug him and cry and just—just something, she—
“Shiny, she’s not going to find out, but what would your therapist say?”
Betrayal. Cadance’s heart wept at the expression, but she needed to say it.
“Cadance, tell me what you’re trying to say. Are you saying I’m—what, that I’m not ready or something? To help somebody in need?”
“I’m saying that it doesn’t have to be you, Shiny.” She couldn’t stop. She couldn’t hold still. She wrapped him up in the biggest, tightest hug she could physically give and she knew he only reciprocated out of reflex but that didn’t matter because he had to know. “Shiny, I know you want to help—we both do, because that’s what’s right—but this can’t be healthy for you!”
Shining was mad. Cadance could feel it in his arms and beating against her chest. He was so upset.
“And what do you think will happen then, Cadance? I’ll get sick? I’ll get stressed?” He shook his head with a snort. “You think I won’t get worse knowing that I could’ve done the right thing and didn’t. Are you afraid you’ll lose me—?”
“Damn it, Shiny, I love you!” Cadance was crying now. Careful practice kept her voice steady, but those blasted tears—two weeks of tears inherited by Celestia, her students, the city, her husband—just didn’t have anywhere else to go but all over Shining’s jacket. “I don’t want to see you get hurt, okay?! You already have a dangerous job, I want our home to be a place you can rest, not...”
“We can help her, Cadance.”
She tilted her head, just enough to meet Shining’s wet eyes.
“You’re the one who’s alive, Shiny.”
He didn’t even blink.
“She’s alive, too.”
For a moment, all they could do was stare.
Lines. Strokes. Split open flesh.
She knew that. Cadance was already well aware of that, but...
Damn it, how could one man be so stubborn.
“We’re running out of time,” Shining sighed.
“Yeah.” Cadance stepped out of the embrace, mindlessly adjusting her clothes and hair. “She’ll already be here for a couple of days at least. We’ll talk as we go.”
“Right.”
She hated it when they got like that. So professional. So curt.
Shining laid a hand on the doorknob. “Ready?”
Cadance sighed, shook her head, and nodded. “Let me at ’er.”
That drew a small smirk from that stoic face. “’Atta girl.” Shining opened the door.
Sunset hadn’t moved since Cadance last saw it. Curled on its side, wide eyes staring at the door.
Unblinking.
Unmoving.
In that instant, Cadance panicked. Was that a corpse? A true corpse? No. No no, Sunset couldn’t be dead again, right? Cadance began striding towards the couch.
Sunset’s eyes followed, and as Cadance dropped herself onto the couch, she heaved a sigh of relief. ‘Thank goodness,’ Cadance thought to herself with a mental snort, ‘she’s not dead again.’ Cadance took a limp hand in her own, meeting Sunset’s neutral gaze as best as she could.
What could Sunset have been thinking? Did she hate her again? Was she just curious about what they talked about? No, Sunset had to have hated her. She begged and begged and Cadance didn’t listen, but Cadance couldn’t just let Shiny—
Later. They were going to talk about that later.
“So, Sunset.” Sunset didn’t respond. “How long were we out?”
Sunset didn’t respond.
“...Right.” Sunset hated her. For a just a moment, they connected, but Cadance ruined it. “Well, we’re back now. And, I think it’s about time for me to show you where you’ll be able to rest while you’re with us!”
Silence.
“Sunset, I’m sorry.” Cadance couldn’t fix this. “I never wanted to hurt you, but...” How could she turn back time? If somebody could turn back death, shouldn’t she be able to turn back time? “If things were different then I’d let you stay here as long as you needed, but—”
“It was me, Sunny.” Eyes wide, Cadance took in Shining’s form. Arms crossed, casual lean against the desk. Exactly as he always did when he was uncomfortable. “I saw your body when you... well, you know.” He scratched his chin. “I’ve been doing alright, but Cadance was worried that if you stuck around then... uh, well.” Shining coughed into his fist. “Well, I don’t know what she was worried about, but I think you get it.
“Cadance meant the best, okay? She was just trying to look out for her fiancé.”
Silence. Longer.
The cool hand gently squeezed Cadance’s hand back.
In.
“...H-hushband.” Out.
Though Sunny’s face didn’t change, both Cadance and Shining smiled.
“Whatever,” Shining snorted.
Lifting Sunset’s body upright, Cadance wrapped her arms around Sunset’s shoulders. “I’m really sorry, Sunset. I didn’t want to hurt you. Forgive me?”
Sunset remained still.
In. “Owe m-mmee?”
“Woah, hang on,” Shining stood straighter. “Don’t go guilting stuff out of my wife, you little troublemaker.”
“Shhh, I can take care of myself, Shiny.” With a playful rub of Sunset’s back, Cadance stage-whispered into Sunset’s hair. “Don’t listen to mean ole Shiny. You can guilt me for whatever you want. Okay?”
Cadance rocked gently side to side. Steady, soothing motion. Cadance would put in all the effort that she needed to get back that sense security that Sunset needed so badly.
Slowly, softly, tentative hands pressed against Cadance’s back, drawing Sunset further into her embrace.
“Warmm...” Out.
Cadance smiled a genuine smile, this time only slightly touched with discomfort. She had no idea what Sunset was feeling, but she held on to the belief that this was a step in the right direction. The guest room was rather bare, but it was still cozy and warm enough for their new guest’s stay, however long it was.
Cadance resolved to continue that conversation with Shining that night. For now, she would focus on the body—the girl in her arms. Sunset may not be able to stay forever, but Cadance would make sure she felt welcome.
Cadance chuckled, a small thought coming into her mind. Adult or child, dead or alive: everybody needs a warm place where they belong.
Everybody.