//------------------------------// // More Than an Errand Pony // Story: Teammates // by Astrum //------------------------------// A slower pony might have feared the raging torrent overtaking the sky, but Dash, her persistently competitive spirit relishing any sort of challenge, viewed it as granting some sort of excitement to an otherwise wearisome task. Swiveling her head to check her flank, Dash could tell she was clearly a good many miles ahead of the storm, the colors she trailed behind her blocking out most of the black clouds beyond. Even in her drained state, she had made child’s play of outrunning nature itself, proving even the world was no match for her ability. The thought crossed her mind, but she brushed it aside in amusement for its honest absurdity. As impressive as her ego was, she wasn’t delusional. At least a little less so than she used to be. Truthfully, she was trying to occupy her thoughts with any ridiculous thing she could muster, her head still reeling from the events of the boutique. Those efforts in vain, snippets of the conversation had been flashing in her mind ever since she left, each processed and reflected on in matters of microseconds. The previously incomprehensible embarrassment, the fact she let herself get so flustered over something so trivial in the first place, and the fact that her friends even thought of prodding at this topic. It was all very straightforward; she was there, she witnessed and experienced it herself not even an hour ago. Why was there this ominous dreamlike quality to the memory? As if she had been caught in sleep paralysis and forced to watch a horror story unfold before her eyes, helpless to stop it? These and the many obvious thoughts that could be expected after such a gossip session. She realized her contemplations leading nowhere. “Good Celestia, what is wrong with me?” she groaned to herself, holding the side of her head with one hoof and shaking it in hopes of clearing it. She tried breathing in another gust of air, but it had become warm and heavy, a sign of the bitter weather bearing down on her. Greeted by this rejection of relief, her mental slump persisted. Either its speed was picking up or she was slowing down, but she could feel the humid atmosphere of the storm beginning to catch up with her. Most likely, her musing had caused her to drift, lowering her speed and allowing the storm to gain ground on her position. Fortunately, it proved irrelevant as she could now make out the large insignia of a winged lightning bolt attached to the side of a large building. Straining her eyes a bit more under the scant light conditions, she could read the words “Wonderbolts Administrative Center” below it in a bold gray font. The sight of her objective pulled Dash out of her contemplative haze, enabling her to focus on the impressive floating structure in her path. Regaining the strength in her wing flaps, she flew eagerly forward to it. With her head somewhat cleared, she let out a labored sigh and took the rest of her flight time to recompose herself. “Okay, don’t get so worked up over it, Dash. That was weird and... kinda scary if I’m honest, but it certainly isn’t anything to lose sleep over. You can either waste time wondering about all this stuff and driving yourself crazy or you can do what you wanted to do to begin with: chalk it up to being tired and delirious with everything going on right now. Yeah, just admit it, you’re a little loopy, and need something to help you refocus on what really matters. And right now, that’s getting this delivered to Spitfire and heading home. Phew... Alright, attagirl.” She relaxed her shoulders for the first time in ages and glided gracefully toward the proud building. Passing through a security checkpoint occupied by one pony snoozing with a magazine over their face, she landed at the top of the stone steps before the entrance of the building. Taking a moment to slack her wings, she looked up at the towering face of the administrative center. Seeing that bright lightning bolt with the grand wings adorning it always instilled a shot of bravery and motivation in her, even if the air outside was depressingly muggy. But tonight, she decided she’d rather have the slow wash of slumber poured over her by a smooth, cushy mattress, and she moseyed on in through the door. The inside of the building was even darker than outside, not that Dash was surprised; it was about two hours past normal operating hours. Every office, break room, and hallway was pretty much entirely unlit. Not a single hoofstep echoed across the hard walls, nor even a drip from leaky faucets. All she heard besides her own hooves against the floor was the low metallic hum of the AC system vibrating above her. If she hadn’t been in the building enough times to memorize the path to Sptifire’s office, Dash likely would have been fumbling in the dark trying to determine the right corridor, and then the right flight of stairs, and then the right corridor after that until she, hopefully, came across the doorway with a plaque saying “Capt. Spitfire” plastered next to it. Luckily, her memory chose to be valuable in this instance and she knew that from the entrance it was only one flight of stairs and a left turn away. She kept walking slowly past the desk and toward the right set of stairs, the clop of her hooves reverberating and being absorbed into the darkness of the halls. “Looks like everyone’s already headed out. This place is dead as can be,” she whispered. Though she wouldn’t admit to a fear of the dark, she did find the surroundings a tad eerie. Seeing the normally bustling center of leadership completely vacant, quiet, and under a lack of light gave it an almost wholly new identity. The distant cracks of lightning that flashed through the windows didn’t help soften the atmosphere either. Dash proceeded up the steps steadily, placing each hoof with careful precision as she ascended in order to avoid an embarrassing stumble in the near-pitch-black. Upon reaching the desired floor, all that greeted Dash was more darkness. The shroud of night intent on drowning her, she stalked through it like a cat watching anxiously for danger. What she was moving so apprehensively for, she was not certain of. Perhaps the long corridors reminded her of the time she traversed a haunted mansion with Applejack, which birthed an instinctual disgust with such surroundings, especially if she was caught in it alone. This would definitely be a less bothersome trek had she another party to converse with. Scanning the plaques near the passing doorways, she reassured that she was headed along the right course by the order she spotted names. “Maj. Fleetfoot”, “Meeting Room”, “Sgt. Maj. High Winds.” Unless everyone’s offices had been moved since last Monday, she was indeed moving in the right direction. Yeah, minus the slightly spooky atmosphere, this place is just as boring and bland as I remember. How is it even the leaders of the Wonderbolts have a big soul-sucking building to work in? Must come with the job. If that’s case, I hope I never get “honored” with such a promotion. Dash contemplated with a scowl. Would much rather not spend every moment outside shows and training being suffocated by gray walls, thank you very much. She approached the t-intersection at the end of the hall and bent herself leftward, rounding the corner in front of another large window which gave a panorama of the lashing electricity outside. At least Spitfire’s office is on the more open side of the building. Definitely has the best view, she noted. Indeed, the building had a sort of duality between the far side where the Captain resides and the entrance. It was as if the walls were more intrusive and compressed the nearer one got to the entrance. Closer to the Captain’s office, they not only receded but opened up to unveil the larger complex that is the Wonderbolts home base from a stunning vantage point. “Hm, least it’s not all bad,” she muttered, surveying the impressive dark structures floating outside the window. Feeling she could breathe a tad more easily, she gave a light huff as she at last recognized Spitfire’s door to the right a little ahead of her. The Captain’s office was extra distinguishable thanks to its door bearing the most intricate design, that of a mass of dark blue wisps streaked across it and the wall surrounding the doorframe. Jackpot. A great relief took hold and nudged her forward just a bit more briskly in anticipation of her task’s conclusion. As if rushing her to move along faster, and to revert the minuscule expression of ease on her face, an explosive crash of lighting erupted outside the window, close enough, or at least loud enough, to jolt Dash forward more dramatically in fright. Besides the slight shame from being startled by such a simple thing, it reminded her again that she couldn’t yet relax; she was still in competition with the storm to get home before it reached its most severe state. “Yep, okay, in and out.” Making visual contact with the door handle, she approached, set her hoof on the handle, and steadily pushed it open, instinctively poking her head into and scanning the office. Just waltzing casually into the boss’ space was unnatural to her, so despite knowing there was no Spitfite around to be bothered, Dash still felt the need to check before entering. As expected, it was every shade as dark as the rest of the building, and then some, but she had gotten sufficient enough of a look to comfortably enter. She pushed the door open wider and stepped through the entryway. Her eyes jerked down at the sound of a wooden board squeaking under the weight of her leg. “Ugh... Yeah, don’t like that”, she whined quietly to herself. Nevertheless, she put forward another leg and walked slowly toward a wide desk near the back of the room. She swiveled her head around the space, in awe at the chaotic assortment of papers, folders, and other office supplies. To her left against the wall were rows and columns of steel drawers, some sealed closed and others flung open, revealing further rows of papers sorted inside them. On the desk were towers of paper, stacks stacked upon each other, in fact. Around them, both on the desk and the floor, were more documents strewn about haphazardly. To her right were shelves, some sporting photos, others lines of various trophies and medals, several of which were crookedly oriented or sloppily hung from the wall. “Sheesh, boss, ever tried cleaning this place up? Might wanna get yourself a maid.” Dash stopped a couple feet in front of the desk and opened up the side compartment of her bag to pull out the envelope. The clutter confounding her, she looked for some sort of mailbox or folder with a clear label to set the thin packaging in, but to her aggravation, none such vessel caught her eye. “Can never be easy, can it? I can’t just plop this down anywhere; it’ll probably get lost in all of this stuff.” She had no desire to risk rummaging through the delicately sorted mess in hopes of finding something obvious to place it in. Then she thought of the chair residing behind the pile, peeking at it and almost surprised it wasn’t occupied by paperwork as well. “Meh, just leave it there. Kinda hard to miss when she sets her flank in it every day”. She reached across and plopped the envelope down in the center of the burgundy leather seat. “Boom. Done and done,” she proclaimed, followed by a relieved sigh. Whipping back around in accomplishment, she trotted to the exit of the room, watching her hooves so as not to step carelessly on any of the delicate debris splayed across the floor. Heading back out into the hallway, she glided her wing through the loop of the door handle and pulled the door shut tight with a deep thud. Shaking and stretching her wings, her back popped and loosened, Dash gave another satisfied breath as she turned to face back the route she came. “Alright, now let’s get back home before that storm decides to get worse.” In truth, she was almost certain that the worst of it either had already or soon would reach Ponyville, but her hope was that she could take a convenient detour around the cloud cell and reach home while it was in a soaked state of calm. This was largely a matter of luck, but regardless, she thought it better to be in bed sooner rather than later. Just as she was about to step forward, however, a sudden burst of sound intensely startled her, her wings flaring and chest fur fluffing in shock. She instinctively flicked her head to face the rear, in the direction of the disturbance, eyes peering like searchlights. Due to it’s frighteningly unexpected nature, Dash was unable to process what the sound might be, let alone what caused it. It clearly wasn’t thunder; it was both not nearly loud enough and much to close, definitely somewhere within the building. It sounded like it came from just around the corner and echoed off the wall behind her, in fact. Unfreezing, Dash turned her whole body around to face the other end of the hall. What in the hay was that? She inched a bit forward before catching herself. Wait. Gosh, stop freaking out over every little thing, just keep heading-. Her thought was ceased by another burst of sound, same as the first. This time, now that she was alert, she could hear it a bit more clearly. She still couldn’t identify the disturbance, but whatever it was sounded like there might be a voice behind it. Dash walked forward apprehensively, approaching the left corner at the end of the hall. Peeking her head around it, she saw something she might’ve anticipated given the sound but which surprised her nonetheless. On the right, between twenty to thirty feet down the hall, there was a flow of dim light spilling out through a cracked door, painting the opposing wall in its weak rays. She raised an eyebrow in bewilderment at such a sight. Seriously? No way anyone’s still working this late and with this stupid weather. Who would—. Her line of thought was severed as the most dreadful possibility entered her mind. Aw no. No, no, no, no, not tonight of all nights. She readied herself to turn back around and hightail it out of there, but there was a relentless urge she felt pulling her back toward the light. Then another distinct possibility hit her. Hold on. Maybe someone just forgot to turn their lights off. Unlike Spitfire’s office, Soarin’s office’s location usually escaped Dash’s memory as she had only spotted it a few times and had entered it even fewer times. She couldn’t even remember what number room it was in its hall, the first, last, or somewhere in between. Looking directly at it again, she couldn’t even tell from her position how many doors down the light source was. You know how Spitfire gets when she finds any lights left on overnight. “You flies already waste my time with sloppy maneuvers and now you gotta waste our electricity bill?!” Or some crap like that. Dash winced, picturing Equestria shaking with the roars and curses of a scorned captain. Just in case, I should probably check; it’d be easier on everyone if I turned that off. With a gulp, she suppressed her fear and walked slowly down the hall toward the light. When she was within range to read it, she glanced at the plaque next to the door, hoping to make out the name. Though she had braced for it, the name visible was mortifying all the same: “Lt. Cmdr. Soarin.” Yeah, it’s definitely time I head out. Turns out we won’t get screamed at for leaving lights on, great. Plus, nothing says I gotta say hi to my CO just ‘cause he’s here and I’m really not in the mood to get caught helping with paperwork right now. Sure, that’s the reason. Shut up!, she argued dramatically with herself. The louder voice taking control, she made a quick u-turn and started walking back. With a sigh, she felt a fleeting second of reassurance, only for this to be whisked away with a frustrated stamp of her hoof on the floor, her halting about ten feet from the door. Against her reasoning, she couldn’t seem to pull herself completely away from the dim beacon behind her. What the hell are you doing, get goin’! But she couldn’t find the will to move, as if her body had set a point of no return with the event horizon being wherever the light touched. She glared at the floor, giving a brief moment to consider what exactly she was doing. Y’know what? This isn’t me. If this happened any other day, I’d at least swing by for a minute and say hi. Time to put my bits where my mouth is. She reversed to face the door. But... dang it... If he is drowning in paperwork, I probably shouldn’t bother—. “Hello? Someone there?” Dash jolted erect and rigid as a steel board. The voice echoed out of the room from behind the door, tingling her back and releasing sweat from her brow. “Aww great...,” she groaned almost silently under her breath, her face contorting into a familiar grimace. Now lacking much choice in reasonable action, she was almost grateful that her poor stealth capabilities had provided an end to her indecisiveness. Only now she was left with the more terrifying option. She forced herself to approach the door, which was made more difficult by her knees being on the edge of giving out beneath her. Stopping with her nose a few inches away from the crack, she allowed a collecting inhale to breach her lungs and gave two light frantic knocks on the door. Enduring a second that lasted ten years, she awaited another call to her from the voice beyond the door. “No need to knock, I’m not gonna bite your head off or anything!” Behaving as if the contrary were true, Dash placed her hoof cautiously on the door and pushed it open wider, the rusty hinge creaking as she did so. She slowly creeped her head through the gap and into the barely lit space. Greeting him with her head poking in from behind the door, a slightly nervous grin on her face, Dash found Soarin, seated behind his desk. Her throat tightened; maintaining composure whilst looking right at him proved more difficult than simply hearing his voice. He was slightly hunched over the top of his desk, a large lamp illuminating the left side of his face. His eyes, emerald shimmers within the gentle mass of light hovering beside him, were ringed by dark bags, but no more than was usual for the work drunk stallion. Recognizing her through the relative darkness cloaking her face, his eyes widened in a pleasantly excited fashion. “Crash? Hey!” Soarin said warmly. “Heeeeyyy, Soarin,” Dash replied with a forced smile, trying to not let her nervousness seep through her voice. “Come on in. Probably warmer in here that it is out in the hall.” Dash sheepishly stepped through the entryway and closed the door behind her, her legs still struggling to continue their balancing act. “What are you doing here? It’s a little late for extra practice, dontcha think?” he joked. “Heh, yeah, I uh... had to drop something off for Spitfire,” Dash answered. “Oh, that’s right, the confirmation letter from Manehattan Stadium. Yeah, we might need that. Usual business stuff, it’s a pain. Sorry you had to play errand pony again so soon.” “No worries. We all gotta do it at some point, I guess... What about you? More paperwork for the boss mare, I assume?” “Hmph, yeah... - sniffle - The usual. I know she doesn’t need any of this right away but I don’t like keeping things unfinished when I can easily get it out of the way right now. Spits will probably just start stressing out soon if I don’t get it off her back.” He flipped a sheet over to his right on top of another stack of downward-facing papers. “Heck, between the two of us, I’m starting to wonder how she would even function without us, haha!” “Ha... Considering she can’t seem to get her own mail, I’m guessing not very well,” she responded, gradually becoming more relaxed thanks to having successfully gotten complete words out, along with Soarin’s friendly greeting. Soarin scissored a pen between two of his wing feathers and began writing across several lines. “Well now we got ourselves a new fastest flyer, of course she wants you to take care of all our deliveries. Before you came along, it was usually Fleetfoot who had to cover those runs. She’s been pretty grateful for that, but I’m sure she understands your pain.” “Ah, really? Hmph, she’s not too jealous that she’s not the fastest one on the team now is she?” Dash asked, trying to use smugness to hide genuine anxiety. “Ha, no, she’s humbly accepted her new position as second fastest,” Soarin chuckled. “Again, if anything, she’s glad that Spitfire picks someone else to do her errands for her.” “That’s cool. I certainly don’t want to make her feel inadequate or like I’m trying to one up any of you.” Soarin looked up and glared at Dash judgmentally. “Oh, so you think you’re better than us?” His sharp emeralds pierced her heart, igniting panic in her soul. “W-what? No! Oh gosh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean-“. Soarin cut off her panicked explanation with a fit of laughter, almost dropping his pen onto the paper its tip was just sliding across. “Relax, Crash, I’m just messing with you, hahaha!” His jovial tease yanking her out of her terrified trance, Dash scoffed and rolled her eyes playfully back at him. “Freakin’ jerk...” Soarin wiped a tear from his eye and shook his head, resuming his work. “Seriously though, I get it. But I don’t think anyone doubts your respect for everything each of us does and what we stand for. It just so happens you’re one of the strongest rookies we’ve had in a long time. And that makes all of us look good, more than anything.” “That’s... good to hear.” Receiving any sort of praise from an accomplished Wonderbolt always struck a chord with Dash’s inner fangirl, despite now being a Wonderbolt herself. Normally she would be concerned about having an unprofessional reaction in their presence, but at this moment, Soarin’s compliments in combination with his usual amiability served to soothe her nerves more than anything. Almost forgetting the concerns which were just plaguing her mind, she relaxed and took in the office’s atmosphere for a couple of moments. As one might guess by their working relationship, Soarin maintained a much more tidy workspace than that of Sptifire. Despite being occupied with even more paper and various materials, most of it was laid out in a much pleasanter manner. It was reminiscent of Twilight’s library; papers sorted by logical category with clear labels, plentiful writing utensils, and a surprisingly neat display of pictures and accolades on the wall to Dash’s left. Glancing up to see Dash sauntering and looking aimlessly about the room, Soarin smiled at her and questioned her. “So, what was with all the noise out there?” “Hm?” Dash whipped her head to look back at Soarin as if she had no clue what he was referring to. Soarin merely chuckled at her confusion. “It sounded like you got in a pretty heated battle out there or something.” “Oh! Uuuuuh, yeah, there was a fly. Yep, really annoying fly that kept bothering ever since I came in,” Dash explained, darting her eyes back to the pictures on the wall. “Mmhmm.” Soarin stared teasingly at her. “What? It was a big fly, wanted to make sure it wouldn’t try to eat ya or something,” she insisted, playing it off as coolly as was manageable. “Heh, well then thanks for looking out for me as always, Dash.” He stamped a sheet of paper and flipped it over, setting it down to his right. “So any reason you decided to come visit me? I wouldn’t guess you’re looking to help with paperwork,” Soarin inquired jokingly. “Uh, no reason, really,” Dash answered, stroking the back of her neck with her hoof. “Just thought I’d say hi, see what’s up. What, do I need a reason to check up on a teammate?” “Hm, I guess you don’t. Just figured you’d want to get home considering the lovely evening breeze we’ve got going here.” He motioned toward the window behind him, subtle flashes of lightning visible in the distance. Dash cocked an eyebrow and smirked at the stallion. “Oh, so you’re saying I’m too slow to say hi to my commander and get home in time to outrun a little rain?” she challenged while taking a few steps nearer to Soarin, feigning being confrontational. “Hmm, maybe I am, Airpony,” Soarin teased back, looking up to playfully leer at Rainbow. “I think your recent high performance has made you lazy. You need to be maximizing efficiency in every task assigned to you at all times.” “Gosh, sometimes I forget you actually have a brain until you pull out a word with more than two syllables.” “Directly mocking a commanding officer, that’s insubordination.” “Pfft, you’re gonna slap me with the rule book, really?” Dash snorted. “Yes. Only ‘cause you hurt my feelings...” Soarin responded, giving a pouty lip to dramatize the statement. They eyeballed each other comically, caught in a battle to see who would crack first. After a mere two seconds, both tore into laughter at their own silly altercation, Soarin wiping yet another fresh tear from his eye and Dash in fits over his poor acting. Their jubilance didn’t last very long, however, as Dash recalled a concern which had presented itself just a few moments ago. She cleared her throat and looked half-seriously at Soarin. “Hey, I’ll skedaddle if you’d like. I don’t want you stuck doing all this stuff any longer than you need to be.” “Oh no, I welcome the company. I’m actually kinda glad you showed up. A little secret between you and me, these rainstorms give me a bit of the creeps when I’m caught here all alone.” “Ugh, I don’t even know why we were scheduled for rain today. We had it, like, three days in a row last week.” “Well I don’t want you to feel obligated to stick around either. You may wanna get outta town before that thing gets here.” She gave Soarin a sarcastic look which he immediately recognized. “Okay, last time I question Rainbow Dash the Princess of Speed,” he proclaimed, waving his hooves with her mock title. “Now you’re learning, LT,” Dash winked. “Well you look beat. Why don’t you take a load off, seat’s right there.” Soarin pointed his hoof at a large chair to his left. Looking it over, Dash thought it out of place in this room. As orderly as it was, the office was far from luxurious, yet this chair was lavishly cushioned in crimson and yellow floral patterns, accented by pristinely crafted woodwork, not to mention a tad large for just one pony to sit in. “Thanks, I’ll be careful not to dirty up your... throne here,” she remarked, undoing her saddlebags and setting them up against the chair. “Is the style not to your liking, Miss Dash?” Dash plopped her rear on the seat and wriggled herself into it the pillowy cushion, giving a pleased whistle as she leaned into the backrest. “Nah, just not something I expected to find in an officer’s quarters. Comfy, though,” she replied, her eyes giving a subtle flutter in pleasure. “Yeah, I found it at a market the other day. An old friend was trading it off to make space in his new apartment. Thought it might spruce it up in here a bit.” “‘Spruce’ is a word; this thing is almost as cushy as a cloud. Why the heck don’t you sit in this while you work all day?” “Heh, if I did I wouldn’t get anything done. Would be too busy napping. It’s real good when I’m on break, though.” Accurate to Soarin’s word, Rainbow Dash felt she would find herself dozing soon if she didn’t sit back upright. She straightened up and then leaned forward to Soarin with two hooves resting between her legs. “Since when do you take breaks?” “Hey, I know how to have fun when I need to. Sit back, have some afternoon coffee, read a book.” “And you read? Whaaat? Hold on, that must be where the fancy words come from!” “Haha, yes. And what I use in my pursuit to unlock the secrets of the universe, life, and what it all means,” he kidded. Dash shook her head playfully before Soarin straightened his papers and looked up at her once again. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you’re quite the reader yourself aren’t ya?” “Uh, yeah, I guess you could say so. I mean, it’s not like I read a whole ton all the time or get into anything super eggheady like science or something,” Dash replied, rubbing her hooves together thoughtfully. “Oh yeah, you’re more of an action-adventure type of pony aren’t you? What’s that series called, the one with the treasure hunter? ‘Darling Done’ or something?” Dash choked struggling to stifle a laugh, but swiftly broke at Soarin‘s fumble. “Bahahahaha! ‘Darling Done’?” “I’m guessing that’s not the title?” Soarin said, grinning abashedly. “It’s ‘Daring Do’, heheheh!” Dash cried with a facehoof. “You absolute dork!” “I’m tired, leave me alone!” Soarin retorted humorously. “Well yeah, you could say I’m a big fan of ‘Darling Done’. In fact, they are the best stories ever told by ponykind. And since I said it, you know it’s undeniably the case.” “Hm, well maybe I’ll give them a read sometime.” “Duh! You totally should! Wait... what do you read?” Dash asked, befuddled by what might interest him if not the great Daring Do. “I like some variety. Drama, suspense, mystery...,” he answered, his eyes wandering across the ceiling as he tried to pick a favorite. “I really dig crime stories. Y’know, an old grizzled detective on the hunt for the bad guy, connecting the threads in this web of secrets and motives, dodging lethal criminals along the way. Exciting stuff.” “Hmph, at least it’s not romance,” Dash snarked. “Hey now, there’s some good stuff to be had in a little romance. Daring Do seriously never has her heartstrings plucked by anyone in her adventures?” Dash held her mouth agape and her hoof on her chest as if Soarin had spoken blasphemy. “I’m gonna pretend you didn’t suggest what I think you just did.” “Uh oh...” “Daring Do is an elite adventurer, searching far and wide for the darkest secrets and most mysterious artifacts buried in the most dangerous places in the world, and fighting the nastiest, most conniving groups of baddies any hero could face!” Dash proclaimed like she was narrating the back cover of the novel itself. “She doesn’t have time for romance, she’s got places to go and flanks to kick!” Soarin chuckled softly at her enthusiasm. “You’re really into this character aren’t ya? I’m starting to think you—... you—... ACHOO!” Soarin’s head shot downward behind the desk to shield both his papers and Rainbow Dash from a vicious sneeze. Though she saw it coming a second before thanks to his pausing, Dash was still startled by the explosiveness of the sound and Soarin’s body movement. Then a surge of deja vu flooded her. Now that she had just witnessed and heard it up close, it was undoubtable that was the noise she had heard minutes ago, now a loud, gross burst which seemed somewhat painful for the stallion. “Holy— You good?” Dash asked, prepping to stand up from her formerly relaxed position. “Guh... Yeah... Y-yeah, I’m good -sniffle-.” Soarin reached to his right, only for his trembling hoof to knock a tissue box off of the desk, realizing it to be empty as soon as it hit the floor. He fumbled for another moment searching for a fresh one and was shortly discouraged by the absence of it. He then looked to the back of the room and directed his hoof toward it. “Can you -sniffle-... get me another box of those? There should be more in the top drawer back there.” Dash turned around to spot where Soarin was pointing, a metal cabinet sitting against the wall to the left of the door. “Yeah, sure.” Braced for another sneeze to strike at any time, she stood up from her seat and walked over to the plain gray drawer. With a harsh metallic rattle, she slid it open and immediately spotted a pastel-colored tissue box at the bottom, its white and fluffy inside brimming with tissues free for use. She swiped it, closed the drawer, and returned promptly to the desk, passing the box to Soarin. He immediately yanked a tissue out of the box and aggressively wiped his snout, eking out a “Thank you” through the thin sheet. As she hoofed off the container, Dash had registered a short trash can standing right beside Soarin which she hadn’t seen earlier. Within it was an impressive mound of used tissues sprinkled with clear plastic wrappers, like those used to envelop hard candy. She resurveyed Soarin, still rubbing his now enflamed nose. “Dude, you sure you’re feeling alright?” Soarin ceased the attack on his snout and discarded the wet sheet into the trash can. Rubbing his eyes, he managed to look back up at her with red in his eyes almost as painful to see as his snout. Dash was kicking herself for not seeing it before. Perhaps it was his lively mood managing to mask his physical condition or her own frazzled mental state which prevented her noticing, but now Soarin’s state appeared so starkly in contrast to his normal that it was hard to believe how she hadn’t realized it sooner. Burning through his pale cornflower blue coat, a bright red filled the space just below his cheekbones, a coloration which was likely drowned out before by the lamp beating on his face. His festive green irises were surrounded by sickeningly red veins and a subtle glassy fog blanketed his stare. And if not for being so close, Dash might’ve believed his nose to be bleeding from the deep red around it. “That must’ve been one heck of a sneeze... No offense, but you look like death.” “Ugh... felt like it...” He pressed his hooves against both temples and massaged them hard. “Celestia, and my head was just starting to feel better...” Suddenly he felt a tickle in his throat which turned into a sting, provoking a wet cough to force its way out of his mouth. He whipped one hoof from his temple down to his mouth as quick as physically possible to prevent anything from being exposed to his attack. A labored wheeze and inhale followed as he strained to speak further. “Sorry, I’ve got a bit of something. My allergies get pretty bad this time of year, so at first I thought it was just— hack!” He tried in vain to soften another coughing fit, only to make the sensation more severe as a result and wince in a searing pain. “Yeah, that doesn’t sound like allergies,” Dash stated in concern, impulsively inching a bit nearer to Soarin. “Ah-ah, please... ahem... don’t... get any closer than you have to. Can’t have you catching this too,” he pleaded, still holding his hoof in front of his mouth. Agreeing it best to avoid unneeded contact yet still pressing to assist in some way, Dash beckoned further for clarity. “Well what all is bothering you? Stuffy nose, sore throat, headache. Any pain anywhere else?” “Ugh, you’d have more luck asking what doesn’t hurt,” he groaned, kneading his temples once again. “My head feels like an overfilled water balloon, just about every sinus in my body is ready to bust open, all my joints are sore... too much?” “No, not at all... Did you take anything to help already?” “Only a bunch of cough drops. I usually keep a stash of ‘em during the allergy season, but I kinda... ran out.” “Well what about the clinic? Can’t you snatch yourself something from down there? Some nighttime cold and flu stuff?” “Clinic’s closed and gutted for remodeling. All their stock -sniffle-... was taken out and secured somewhere else too. Good luck finding it. Ponies working down there were going to set up a temporary makeshift clinic in one of the spare storage rooms, but they haven’t gotten around to it yet what with the show coming up and the weather making supplies hard to deliver.” “Gotcha...” Dash acknowledged glumly. Her chin fell, lamenting her apparent inability to assist Soarin in his condition. Poor guy, no wonder he can barely keep his eyes straight on me. Before she could wrestle further, her ear twitched, stimulated by a soft blunt sound several feet in front of her. She lifted her head back up and looked at the window behind Soarin. A half second later, another tiny drop of water struck the glass, followed by several more drops and a sudden surge of wind as the window was spattered in the onset of rainfall. “Hey,” Soarin spoke with a rasp, pulling Dash’s eyes back to him. “I’ll be fine. Takes more than a little cold to keep ‘ole Clipper from signing off on papers, hehe...” Dash gave a doleful smile and nodded in acceptance, though she struggled to honestly give credence to his claim of resilience. She knew he was one tough pony, but he couldn’t simply ignore every cell in his body telling him he is horribly ill. “Well I definitely don’t wanna be the one to tell ya to quit, but just, uh... be sure to take one of those breaks of yours if you need it.” “Hmm... you have my word,” he swore with a kind smile. He then registered the rhythm of rain as well, turning around to see an array of droplets cascading down the glass. “Shoot, looks like that storm caught up with you.” Tucking a stack of papers between the bend of his foreleg and chest, he stood up feebly from his seat, his shoulders slack but torso stiff and bent like he was still hunched over his desk. He hobbled over to a tall filing cabinet standing left of his chair and slid open the top drawer. “You... ahem... may wanna get out of here while it’s still manageable. Head home, put your hooves up, you’ve earned it.” Dash examined the idea for a moment. While she wasn’t very agreeable to leaving Soarin by himself here, in this state nonetheless, she knew it was likely for the best that she depart. Depending on how bad this illness truly is, if she caught it as well, it would be disastrous for the team to be down two key fliers for the Manehattan show. And knowing how long he typically goes at paperwork, Soarin likely would not finish until well after the worst of the storm had passed, granting him an easy fly home at the end of the night. She wasn’t sure she entirely believed that notion, but she relented that she should have faith in his ability take care of himself and get the job done despite any obstacles. “Yeah, you’re... probably right,” Dash admitted reluctantly. She stepped back over to the chair and picked up her saddlebags, swinging them over her back and fastening them to her body. “You’re totally sure you’ll be good here by yourself?” she asked sternly. “Oh yeah -sniffle-... I’ve only got a few more stacks left... I can manage,” he assured weakly, flipping through folder after folder. “Alright...” Dash turned, giving one last look at Soarin, and walked toward the door. She reached out and ran her hoof up the door handle, about to grasp and pull it to open her exit. However, she felt an abrupt invisible force keep her from doing so. It wasn’t fear like before; it was as if she was forgetting something. Something she had never thought of in the first place. She grimaced as the images of tea with her friends came running through her mind once again, and with them, she could barely make out the echoes of Rarity’s voice. Most of it Dash interpreted as mere noise, but somewhere within it she found unmistakeable words which her friend had sown into her consciousness. Dash let her hoof slip from the handle and swiveled around to face Soarin. “Hey, one more thing?” “Hm?... Anything, Dash,” he answered, slipping his paper stack into a folder and closing the drawer. “Uh...” Dash gulped, struggling to open her throat enough to let even a word out. She stepped a bit closer to him, in case that if she only managed to squeak it out, he would understand her and she wouldn’t have to say it again. “Uh... My... friend is having this whole event thing going on tomorrow. Some fashion show or something.” Soarin rotated and faced her, ears perked up in an intrigued listening position. “Gonna be lots of froufrouy types and flashy clothes and all that boring crap, anyways...” Dash fidgeted, cracking her neck and sighing as she stumbled on to the point. “I was wondering, I mean if you don’t have anything better to do tomorrow and feel up to it, if you’d like to go.” Soarin remained quiet, kindly allowing any extra explanation she might wish to give. “Um, I’m gonna be going to it. Gotta be a supportive friend and all that, y’know, hehe... But, uh... It might be a little more enjoyable with another awesome pony there.” She smiled awkwardly in anticipation of a response. Soarin stayed quiet for another second, almost long enough to make Dash fret that he had somehow lost her in her mess of jittering. Just as she was about to verbally prod him, he slowly blinked and gave a dry response. “Sure.” “Oh... wait, really?!” Dash’s expression exploded from dejection to astonishment, turning her ear toward him to make sure she had not just experienced an auditory hallucination. “S-sure... I don’t have anything going on tomorrow. And it sounds like it... might be fun,” he explained, setting his right foreleg on the corner of the desk and leaning up against it. Dash shook her head, trying to keep her bearings in spite of the exciting response she just received. “Uh... A-awesome, heheh! So I’ll see you there then?” “Yeah, it’s a... it’s a promise.” “Great, I’ll hold you to that, Clipper,” she accepted brightly, getting ready to leave for real this time with a wide grin on her face. Her grin quickly faded, however, as she realized something had become even more abnormal about Soarin’s body language. Tilting her head in curiosity, she shuffled a little closer in order inspect what might be gripping him. It was with that she was able perceive the composition of his glare; he was looking straight in her direction but not at her. His eyes were rapidly becoming glazed over, a deep fog overlaying his pupils, fading his focus on her in and out. “Soar?” His legs were quaking and upper body shivering, the movement causing his raised foreleg to slide gradually across the desk. “Um... -sniffle-... Dash... I... I can’t...” Soarin’s voice grew meeker, trembling beneath a crushing fright which she had never before heard out of the stallion. “Whoa, hang on, stay right there,” Dash ordered with a wavering calm. “Rainbow Dash?... I... can’t see you...” Dash tried to rush to the chair and slide it next to Soarin, providing something safe for him to rest on, but before she could react, his support suddenly buckled. “Soarin!” Dash exclaimed frantically. His foreleg slid all the way off the desk, scattering a mass of papers which had been resting in front of his hoof into the air above. His whole frame began to topple down headfirst into the cold hard floor. The second or two, however long it truly was, which immediately followed were occupied by a boundless void to Soarin. He might have picked up a muffled, barely audible thud at the same moment he saw color again, but what little consciousness he clung to was incapable of ascertaining it. The final things he sensed before blacking out entirely were looking up at a large blot of light blue hovering over him, with every other color he could imagine surrounding it, and a series of undeterminable but somehow familiar vibrations gracing his ears. He wondered why he thought it odd that they rung with such distress.