//------------------------------// // Chapter 2 // Story: A fire in his heart // by basalisk120 //------------------------------// Spitfire plodded wearily to her own room, turning the key in the same way that she had before. She could have gone back to the party, and under normal circumstances, she might well have done. But something felt different now that she knew how Soarin felt. It sapped the partying mood straight out of her. She really did have a lot to think about. When did this begin? She thought to herself, pushing the door open. What will this mean for the team? She stopped dead in her tracks. She hadn’t thought of that one. Of course it would affect the team for the worse. What if Soarin did remember, and refused to talk to her out of shame? Or worse, if he left the Wonderbolts? She shook her head. She knew that she was being paranoid, but it didn’t make the scenarios any less likely in her head. The fiery maned mare trotted into her room, alone for the first time. It felt strange. She was very much a sociable pony, and didn’t particularly like the idea of being alone all night. And being a wonderbolt meant that tying down a significant other was nearly impossible, as they spent most of the year on tour. Of course, she’d never actually tried a serious relationship, but she had spent enough time with a heartbroken Fleetfoot to understand the difficulty of the concept. But what if the special somepony was a wonderbolt too? She thought briefly as she flicked the light on, the expensive chandelier scattering the light across the room elegantly. She dismissed the thought the moment it entered her head. No matter what he might think, Soarin was a friend, and nothing more. She plodded onward, her hooves sinking delightfully into the royal blue shag pile carpet. Throwing her keys onto the bedside table from across the room, she unzipped her form-fitting flight suit, slipping out of it with practised grace. First the left foreleg, then the right, followed by the right and then left wings, then a fair amount of unceremonious wiggling and the suit was around her flanks. After that, it was just a flick of the tail and the thin blue and yellow fabric was sitting in a pile around her ankles. She stepped out of the suit, and picking it up with her teeth, tossed it loosely onto the back of a nearby chair, the lavish upholstery lost on her for the first time. She trotted into the bathroom, ignoring the inlaid black marble flooring that was cool on her hooves as she stepped lightly over it and into the enormous shower. In all of the venues that the Wonderbolts had performed, the Canterlot suite was the only one with a shower so big that it had seats for up to three people built into it. Needless to say, she had made use of this feature more than once. There was also a Jacuzzi next to it, as if guests needed any more variety with their washing. For the first time, she slipped into the shower alone, and sat down on the cold enamel seating without anypony to relax against. She didn’t like it. With a heavy heart, she turned the water on, letting the hot liquid soothe her body and relax her muscles. However, she still couldn’t escape the feeling that she would have enjoyed things more if she had somepony to share the shower with. Like Soarin… Sigh sighed with frustration. She probably just felt guilty for not accepting his advances. Yeah, that must be it. She rose to her hind legs, closing her eyes and letting the water flow down her orange tipped mane, cascading in rivulets down her soft yellow fur, washing away all of her negative thoughts and emotions. She must have stayed in there for more than half an hour, simply standing or sitting with her eyes closed, taking in the warm flow of the water down her body, or the thick, cleansing steam that invaded her nose when she breathed. But as wonderful as it was, it had the unfortunate side effect of exhausting the already tired mare, and not desperate to drown, she shut off the water and returned to the world of the living, sliding open the glass door into the bathroom once more. Even the warm air of the bathroom hit her like a wall of ice. She shivered, trotting over to the towel rack on the far side of the room, ignoring the water dripping off her body and onto the floor. Spending most of their lives in hotels and other rented accommodation had eventually lead to a lack of cleaning up after themselves amongst the Wonderbolts. It wasn’t intentional, but they had accidentally come to take it for granted. Spitfire was far from an exception to this rule, but she did do her best to clean up after she had entertained guests. There were some things that hotel cleaners shouldn’t have to put up with. She grabbed a towel in one forehoof, quickly rubbing herself dry with the soft blue fabric. It woke her up a little, but her eyes still threatened to close as she made her way to the full-length mirror next to the shower. Throwing her towel over the edge of the shower cubicle, she wiped the condensation from the mirror and looked herself up and down. She groaned as she saw her face, and the goggles that remained on her forehead. Irritably, she pulled them off, throwing them into the bedroom. Aside from the two red rings that now adorned her face, and her damp mane that was spread out in all directions, she looked fine. At least, better than usual after a party. She winked at her reflection, smiling. “Lookin’ good, Spitfire.” She chuckled to herself, trotting out of the bathroom, drawn to the bed as if by gravity. The night hadn’t gone exactly as planned, but it had drained her the same. With a single flap of her wings, she leapt over to the massive circular bed, slipping under the covers. Another great thing about the Canterlot suite – The beds were easily big enough for a lot of fun, but soft enough for a wonderful night’s sleep. Unfortunately, wonderful wasn’t the word that Spitfire would later have used for the fitful series of hours spent in the huge bed. Spitfire awoke with a groan, opening her eyes blearily to find herself on the edge of her bed, having moved some considerable distance in her uneasy sleep. Scowling, she made to get up. She couldn’t move. In her sleep, she had completely tangled her body in the sheets and blankets, only her head safe from imprisonment. She growled with frustration – It was going to be a long day. After a fair amount of wriggling, she managed to free her right foreleg, and she rubbed her eyes, sagging. As she lay still, preparing herself for the next explosion of movement, she could have sworn she heard sound emanating from the room next door. Room four, where Soarin was sleeping. She dragged herself closer to the wall, stretching her neck out and to the left, trying to angle her ear toward Soarin’s room. But she couldn’t hear anything. Whatever he had done, it would have had to been pretty loud to pass through the walls. After all, nothing she had done had ever been picked up by her ‘neighbours’. Or at least, that’s what they told her. Shaking her head, she decided that she must have been imagining things. Why would Soarin be awake if he didn’t need to be at training? She rested her chin on the mattress, scowling slightly. Obviously, her paranoia hadn’t been helped by her sleep. She worried about the big blue colt, as much as she wished she didn’t. If he had remembered, she worried for the team. Even if he hadn’t, he was going to feel terrible after that much alcohol. He was no stranger to drinking, but he’d clearly had more than he was used to. She glanced over at the clock on her bedside table – She was getting side-tracked, and breakfast might be over soon. She groaned again, straining against the blankets with all her might. Eventually, she managed to get her other foreleg free, and she half dragged, half kicked her way to freedom. After just a glance at her mangled wings, she knew that there was no chance of going straight downstairs. Glaring at her wings as if the whole thing were their fault, she headed toward the bathroom once more. Avoiding the wet patches that were still on the floor from her shower, she stumbled to the mirror and stared back at her reflection. Even though she liked her mane to look a little on the wild side, what she was confronted with was, if anything, too tousled. Bits of yellow and orange hair stuck out in all directions, and her tail was faring no better. Grimacing at her doppelgänger, she trudged to the medical cabinet, grabbing a comb and dragging it through her mane. After a few lost hairs and quiet swearing, she had removed most of the knots and forced her mane into a much more presentable style. She was almost ready to head downstairs. Feeling better already, (Something made much easier due to her lack of a hangover) she trotted back into the bedroom, grabbing her flight suit off the back of the chair. Putting a flight suit on is much harder than taking one off, as Spitfire had learned with years of experience. However, as with all things, there was a knack, and given enough time, she could make putting a flight suit on almost as sexy as taking one off. But she didn’t have enough time, and there was nopony to watch it anyway. She rose to her hind legs, balancing one hoof on the chair for support, and sticking her rump outwards awkwardly, she used her free forehoof to slip her left hind leg into the blue jumpsuit up to the knee. Then, raising her right hind leg, she did the same, before resting her chin on the chair and using both forehooves to pull the suit up over her flanks and onto her back. Then, with some degree of difficulty, she eased her tail through its hole. Now came the most difficult part of the operation – getting her wings through. She folded her wings tightly against her sides, and one hoof at a time, she dragged the flight suit up to her shoulders, and forced her wings through their respective gaps. The fabric was incredibly strong, despite its breathability and lack of weight, so she did not worry as she pushed her appendages against it. Next came the forelegs, which was easy enough, as her previous actions had left the sleeves dangling next to her legs and it was simply a case of stepping into them. Then, she pulled the stretchy blue fabric up over her head, shoving her mane through the slot in the back of the suit, holding it in her traditional style. Then, all she had to do was zip up the suit, and the wonderbolt look was all but complete. After a few minutes of rooting around in the bedroom, she located her goggles and slipped them onto her forehead. She always felt better in her flight suit, it made her feel confident and in control. That and the fact that it naturally supported all the right muscle groups, complimenting her natural curves. She wasn’t a vain mare, but she did like to look good. With another glance at the clock, she cantered to the door, turning the knob with her teeth and pulling it open. Tiptoeing, she headed over to Soarin’s door and pressed her ear against the expensive mahogany. All was silent in the cheerful blue stallion’s room. Spitfire hoped that meant he was still asleep. If he turned up to rehearsals and remembered what he had said, things might get extremely awkward between them… Not to mention the fact that everypony would get curious. How would she explain things to Misty? She had a thing for him when she first signed up, and she had never been sure how deep the crush had run. What if she got angry? Misty was a good friend of hers, and Spitfire didn’t want any animosity between them. Or between any of the wonderbolts, really. That was the hardest part about leading the Wonderbolts – getting all of them to get through each practice without killing each other or staging a mutiny. She trotted down the hall, toward the stairs. She was alone as she did so – Although it wasn’t exactly early, most ponies staying in the penthouse suite didn’t get up in the mornings at all. As for the other Wonderbolts, she wasn’t sure. The few that weren’t too hung over to turn up had most likely already gone down to breakfast. She decided it might be best to join them. With a single flap of her wings, she was in the air and gliding quickly toward the staircase. In flight, the staircase was much faster than any lift, and she banked into a lazy spiral as she drifted back down to the ground floor. Gracefully, she alighted on the marble flooring, flapping her wings a couple times before folding them against her back once more. Such was her familiarity with the Canterlot suite, she didn’t bother greeting any of the staff, as she knew how to find the breakfast buffet anyway. So she set off at a light canter toward the big double doors on her left, nodding politely to the waiters that held them open for her, and ventured into the restaurant. To her frustration, the whole room was almost empty, the staff actually outnumbering the guests. There wasn’t a single wonderbolt present aside from her. Spitfire frowned, trotting briskly over to the buffet tables that occupied the centre of the large, opulent room. She was starting to wonder if she was the only Wonderbolt attending today’s session. There was a huge, ornate clock, possibly a few hundred years old, by the look of it. But it was where the hands were pointing that interested Spitfire. At this rate, she would be late for her own practice session. That is, if there’s anypony there. She thought, scowling as she grabbed a plate in her teeth, placing it on the edge of the table and sliding it down to the food. There were grooves carved into the edges of the buffet tables for exactly this purpose, and it had been a pleasant surprise to her on her first visit that a city with such a high unicorn population catered so well to the non-magical pony species too. It would have been much easier for her if she didn’t bother with breakfast and flew immediately to their impromptu training ground in Canterlot, but as an athlete, she had long been taught the importance of breakfast. Sadly, she wasn’t much interested in nutritional value at that moment in time, and she sat down at her table with two croissants and a glass of orange juice. Without bothering to make conversation with any of the dignitaries milling around, she quickly scoffed the delicious pastries and gulped down her drink, while still trying to remain as polite as possible. It probably didn’t work, but she was up and cantering out of the door before anypony could so much as greet her. As she jogged through the entrance hall, she took a final glance back at the clock. She was making good time, and at this rate, she would only be somewhat late. As she passed the reception desk, the attendant, still the same as before, although with enormous black bags under his eyes and an empty mug of coffee, smiled at her as warmly as he could. “Miss Spitfire, I take it you-” “Yeah, I had a great night, thanks.” She interrupted, in too much of a hurry to turn and face him. “It’s all set for a clean-up, nothing major.” She waved lightly, breaking into a light gallop as she pushed through the massive front doors. The second she was outside, she took a deep lungful of the cool morning breeze, spreading her wings and marvelling at the chilled air as it rustled her feathers, brushing softly through her mane and even her coat, the specially designed flight suit letting the pleasant breeze stand her hairs on end, a delightful sensation after the almost oppressive heat of the hotel room. This allowed them to feel every air current as they passed through it, but kept the harsh cold of the powerful winds that lay at higher altitudes away from their bodies. Taking another deep breath, she flexed her powerful wing muscles, a single, powerful flap that launched her into the air. She gave another couple broad flaps that sent her higher, before gliding lazily toward the walls of the courtyard, her wings outstretched. Then, without warning, she angled sharply upward, her strong wingbeats shooting her sharply into the air, the ground simply dropping away below her as she soared up into the sky, smiling sincerely for the first time that morning. The rush of air against her face, the simple joy of watching the sun rise higher into the sky, the soft, wispy clouds high above tinted with pinks and yellows. It was a beautiful sight, but not one she had time for. Reaching up, she pulled her goggles away from her forehead, snapping them over her eyes and picking up speed, shooting higher into the sky. Settling a good few hundred meters above the beautiful city, she scanned the horizon for the cloudbank that they had decided to use as a temporary base of operations. In the beautiful empty-aired morning, it didn’t take her long to spot the cloud that the y had crudely shaped into a rough circle. They weren’t artists, but several of them had been weatherponies before their big break, so it wasn’t a difficult job for them. Flapping twice, she glided slowly down to their training ground, her long primary feathers twitching slightly as she reacted to the wind currents instinctively, a lifetime of experience allowing her to drift effortlessly across the sky. As she got closer, she saw a hoofull of wonderbolts milling around, talking amongst themselves. Smiling, she did a tight barrel roll, folding her wings tightly against her sides and darting toward the cloud. In a matter of seconds, the azure landscape had whizzed past, and she was passing over the lip of the cloud. Rearing up, she snapped her wings open, flapping wildly with her wings to bring herself to a drop. She kept going for a good ten feet or so, rising a couple of feet before dropping to the ground. The Wonderbolts turned to her as she touched down, and Fleetfoot quickly greeted her. “What time do you call this?” The pale blue mare inquired, a small smile gracing her lips. She was usually a pretty shy pony, but Spitfire had a way of bringing her out of her shell when they were among friends. “What’s wrong with being fashionably late?” Spitfire retorted, returning with a smug smile of her own. “Well, nothing, but I’m pretty sure that the host’s supposed to be on time…” the white-maned mare answered, raising an eyebrow. “Ah, you know me…” She waved her hoof dismissively, stepping forward to address the few ponies that were there. “Always bucking the trend…” She turned to the assembled athletes. “Okay, who’s sober enough to turn up?” “Well, you know I’m here, said Fleetfoot, trotting back to her fellow wonderbolts. “And I’m here…” Said Misty quietly. This was hardly surprising, as she was strictly sober, and had never been drunk in her life. “And of course, I’m here…” Said Firestreak, smiling. “You have no idea about the lengths I had to go to to get rid of that pair… So I’m expecting some serious payback for that…” “Do you want me to get you some flowers or something?” Spitfire said sarcastically. “That would be nice…” He replied softly. “Oh, quiet.” She shot back, scanning the rest of the small group. Of the twenty or so Wonderbolts, there were eight in attendance. Fleetfoot and six of the others stood facing her, but Spitfire noticed that one was standing at the back, as if they were trying to go unnoticed. She could have sworn she saw a very familiar deep blue mane. “Hey, who’s that at the back there?” She said curiously, frowning and peering forward. The others turned, stepping aside and showing a sheepish and ill-looking Soarin. Obviously he hadn’t slept as well as she’d thought, and he looked like he was experiencing the sort of hangover that feels terminal. “H-hey, Cap…” He said, giving a nervous chuckle. He looked up at her, displaying slightly bloodshot eyes. Whether that was due to the alcohol or tears, it was hard to say. She hoped it was the former. “Soarin? What are you doing here? I told you to take it easy today…” She said, her frown deepening into one of concern. “Well, you know me… I’ve never taken a day off before…” He said, still looking decidedly nervous under her gaze. This was true, however, he’d even turned up when he had fractured his foreleg, although he was unable to take part in any shows. “Alright, you great dumb colt…” She sighed, turning away. “Let’s get going, everypony! I hope you’ve all got a few ideas for the next, show, because it’s going to be the best one yet. Got that?” They nodded in response. She smiled and turned, heading back toward the edge of the cloud. The other ponies swiftly followed suit, with Fleetfoot at her side. Spitfire leaned in close to her, and spoke to her in a hushed voice. “Has Soaring been acting… odd this morning?” “Odd? Soarin? Never…” Fleetfoot said sarcastically, smiling. Spitfire nudged her. “Come on, Fleet. I’m being serious.” “Why do you wanna know?” “It’s a long story, okay?” “Alright, alright… And yeah, he’s been a bit more subdued than normal…” She said thoughtfully as they leapt off the edge of the cloud, opening their wings with a faint *fwsh*. “Hung-over subdued or normal subdued?” She asked her almost eagerly. “Hmm… Not hung-over subdued, Spit.” She replied as they banked left. The yellow mare’s heart sank, and she glanced back at Soarin. He must have remembered the night before. Things could only get worse. She stared straight ahead, trying to drown out her thoughts with adrenaline as she increased her speed. If there was one thing she hated, it was change. Why did he have to have feelings for her? And why did they have to be sincere? Now she had to investigate how she felt about the happy-go-lucky stallion, if just make sure she did the right thing. And what if she didn’t What if she somehow made things worse? What if one of them had to leave? She The Wonderbolts were their lives now, and she didn’t know if either of them could cope with leaving. And how would the rest of the team take it? She’d already thought about Misty’s opinion, but what about the others? She wasn’t ready to deal with any more drama, she just enjoyed a passionate encounter every so often. Or did she? Maybe she would enjoy somepony waiting for her back at the hotel, a familiar face to cuddle in the small hours, to nuzzle his shoulder and plant a tiny kiss on the side of his neck, letting him wrap his strong, blue wings gently around her back, letting her snuggle deeper into the embrace as she ruffled his wild, indigo mane and- She shook her head, a light blush gracing her features. What in Equestria was she just thinking? Scowling, she rolled to the right, the Wonderbolts forming around her in a ‘v’ pattern. “Alright, what do you lot have in mind?” She shouted back hastily, looking away from Fleetfoot to disguise her blush. It was going to be a tiring morning. Hey, check it out, guys! Continued thanks to popular demand! Stay awesome!