Fiddlesticks’s routine continued on as usual for the next few days, going through the same motions, just as always. Wake up, get ready, leave her empty house, play some songs, buy some food, go home, try not to dwell on things and fail miserably, drift off to uneasy sleep. It was hard to imagine a life that wasn’t like this by now.
Occasionally she would catch sight of Lightning Dust, but she was always busy doing some sort of weather work, so she never had a chance to stop by while Fiddlesticks was in town. But Lightning knew where she lived, so she figured if she wanted to talk she would show up at some point.
And one evening, Fiddlesticks heard a knock on the door. She shot up from the kitchen table and ran to the door. Try as she might to temper her excitement, she just couldn’t; sure, it could be somepony else, but when it’d been nearly a year since she’d last had a visitor, it was a safe bet it was Lightning.
She took a deep breath to collect herself, then opened the door to see the mare she’d been hoping for, but not in the state she’d been expecting. Lightning’s wings were drooping, her withers were slouched, and she was in the middle of a yawn.
“Whoa nelly, Lightnin’! You look like you’re about to pass out. Let’s get you inside, alright?”
Fiddlesticks walked to Lightning’s side and wrapped a hoof around her withers to lead her inside. Lightning muttered thanks in between yawns, and when they reached the couch, she collapsed more than sat.
“You got any coffee?”
“Sure do, Brae—” Fiddlesticks cut herself off. Her brother wasn’t here, it was Lightning Dust, who had just so happened to ask for coffee the same way Braeburn often did. She shook her head and continued, tone more subdued, “Yeah, I’ve got coffee. I’ll go make a pot right now.”
A few minutes later, Fiddlesticks brought out a tray with a mug, some cream and sugar, and most importantly, a fresh pot of coffee. Lightning groaned and stretched as she sat up, her joints cracking and popping as if she was stepping on bubble wrap. She grabbed the pot with a wing and poured coffee up to the brim of the mug.
“Wasn’t sure how you liked it, so… uh…”
Fiddlesticks brain shut off as she watched Lightning chug her coffee. The coffee that was still steaming hot, and probably bitter as all heck since she couldn’t afford the good stuff.
None of that seemed to bother Lightning, though, who merely looked satisfied and alert. “Wow, I needed that. Thanks.”
“You’re, uh, you’re welcome,” Fiddlesticks said, her mind further befuddled after seeing the instantaneous change in Lightning’s energy level.
Lightning jumped up and walked around the room, either not noticing Fiddlesticks’s shock, or simply not caring. Fiddlesticks watched as Lightning poked the creaky floorboards with a hoof, inspected the various knick knacks lying around, and whistled as she looked out the window at the rows of apple trees.
“Nice place you’ve got here. A lot bigger than anything I’ve had in a long time, and I’ve sure never had a yard that big.”
There was no jealousy or bitterness in her tone, which Fiddlesticks was thankful for. She wasn’t sure what she would have done if her house, which felt more like an obligation than anything else, had cost her a friendship.
“Yeah, this place didn’t seem so big back when it wasn’t just me here. And that ain’t a yard, either, that’s all farm. Yard’s in front.”
Lightning nodded, and continued her self-guided tour of the living room. She paused when she reached a shelf full of pictures. One of her wings wrapped around a frame and gently pulled it closer. She studied it for a moment, then held it up for Fiddlesticks to see. Not that she needed to, really, from the frame alone she knew exactly which picture it was.
“Is this your family?”
“Sure is. Me, my ma and pa, and my brother and sister too.” Fiddlesticks walked to Lightning’s side, and actually looked at the picture for the first time in ages. Everyone in it was smiling and posed neatly for the picture. Unbidden, a memory bubbled up of her and her siblings immediately jumping on each other and messing around after the picture was taken. It didn’t make her smile, though. It felt like a vision of a past life. “Been a long time since we were all together like this.”
“Really? Thought the Apple family was big on reunions and sticking together or whatever.”
“We’re supposed to be, yeah. I haven’t gone to a reunion in a while, though. Pa died quite a while back, Apple Fritter is too busy datin’ a princess down in Ponyville to ever come around anymore, and Braeburn…” Fiddlesticks scowled and snorted. “He and I haven’t exactly been on good terms ever since Ma died. If I can’t even see him in the town he’s mayor in, I sure as hay ain’t gonna see him at a darn reunion.”
Lightning put the picture back on the shelf, then awkwardly wrapped her wing around Fiddlesticks’s withers. “Woah, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up something uncomfortable. Are you alright?”
Fiddlesticks pulled out that trusty hollow smile and wore it once again. “It’s okay, I’m fine.” It wasn’t, and neither was she. “You didn’t know.” At least that was true.
Lightning rubbed the back of her neck. “If it’s any consolation, my family’s pretty messed up too. So I mean, I get it.”
It wasn’t any consolation, but Lightning was trying, and she did feel a little less alone in her experience, which meant more to her than Lightning probably realized. Fiddlesticks’s smile felt a little bit more genuine, and she leaned against Lightning’s side.
Her gaze traced the pictures on the shelf, and one in particular caught her eye. She picked it up and cradled it as she brought it closer. In it, she and her siblings were playing at a Las Pegasus water park, all smiles and laughter, full of that sheer joy only foals could have. Their parents had saved up for months to treat them to that, and it had felt like anything and everything was possible for her. Fiddlesticks sniffled.
“Do you—Do you ever want to go back? To just, do it all over again?”
Lightning shrugged. “I mean, I think everypony has at some point. It’d be nice if it was possible, but we can still get second chances and make things right, even without any time travel or whatever.”
“But I don’t just mean second chances!” Fiddlesticks couldn’t keep the desperation out of her voice if she tried, and she didn’t. “It’s—That feelin’, in the summertime when school gets out and it feels like you can do whatever you want, that there’s still some hope left out there for you, that feelin’, don’t you ever want to feel that again?” she pleaded, her voice cracking as she teetered over a precipice that was ready to give way.
She expected to fall, to weep pathetically on the floor until she could weep no more, feeling more empty and broken and alone than she had before. It’s what always happened when she gave herself over to her thoughts, when she didn’t push them down and bury them.
But then Lightning Dust caught her, and she was carried away to safety. She still cried, sure, but now it was into warm, turquoise fur and a comforting embrace, rather than cold, brown wood and desolate air. This time, when she’d cried herself out, she didn’t feel so empty or broken, just a little embarrassed.
Fiddlesticks pushed away from Lightning Dust with a sheepish smile and blush. “Thanks, and uh, sorry.” She fully expected Lightning to pull away from her now, but she still kept that one wing around her side, which Fiddlesticks was very grateful for.
“Don’t sweat it. You’re my friend, right? I’ve got your back.” Lightning grinned at her, and Fiddlesticks’s heart felt warmer than it had in ages.
They sat there for a few minutes, just quietly enjoying each other’s presence. Motes of dust floated through the air, illuminated by lamplight into little stars and swirling into galaxies. They were almost as pretty as the mare sitting next to her.
All good moments must end eventually, though, and It wasn’t long before Fiddlesticks realized something. “Wait just a second, you didn’t answer my question yet.”
Her only response was a snore. She looked at Lightning Dust, and to her utter astonishment, the mare had genuinely fallen asleep. Fiddlesticks shook the mare in the hopes of waking her, but to no avail. Fiddlesticks took a deep breath; she hated to do it, but it was time to pull out the big guns.
“Lightnin’ Dust! Wake up!” she shouted, hoping it’d be as effective as when Ma had done it.
Lightning shot into the air and saluted. “Lightning Dust reporting for duty, Spitfire, ma’am!” Her words were slightly slurred, and her eyes weren’t even open yet. She slowly blinked, and blankly looked around. Once it sank in that she wasn’t where she thought she was, she landed and yawned. “Sorry about that, I didn’t think I was that tired.”
“I’m surprised you were tired at all, after that coffee you drank earlier. I’d have been up for hours.”
Lightning tilted her head. “Wait, you mean you don’t just get a brief boost from it?”
“Nooope.” Fiddlesticks stood up and stretched. “So, who’s Spitfire? That your boss with the weather team?”
Lightning shook her head. “No, she’s a W—uh, no, she’s not.” Lightning yawned and shuffled towards the door. “It was nice hanging out, but I really should get back to my bunk before I fall asleep on you again.”
Fiddlesticks felt panic bubbling up again. It had felt so nice to not be the only pony in this house, she wasn’t ready to be alone again. She reached out and grabbed Lightning. “Wait!” And, to her surprise, Lightning did just that. She scrambled for something to say, and soon words came spilling out. “You, uh, you probably shouldn’t fly right now, and it’s an awful long walk too I’m sure, and I mean, there’s plenty of rooms here, so you should just stay the night,” she stammered out.
Lightning thought about it for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, your couch was pretty comfy, so why not?” She flew to the couch and flopped onto it.
“Wait, there’s plenty of empty bedrooms, and—” Lightning was already asleep. Fiddlesticks chuckled and shook her head in disbelief. With nothing left to do now, she grabbed the old quilt that hung over the back of the couch and pulled it so it lay over Lightning Dust, and then trotted up to her bed to get some shuteye of her own.
Things continued in much the same fashion over the next several weeks, with Fiddlesticks’s boring old routine going on and on like usual. It was still as soul crushing as always, but at least now there was a bright spot in her life, something to look forward to.
And although she expected Lightning Dust’s disruptions to her routine now, there was still no rhyme or reason to them. She’d drift down from the clouds while Fiddlesticks was playing on any day and at any time. She’d show up at Fiddlesticks’s house and sleep on her couch whenever she felt like it.
There was a freedom to the way Lightning lived her life that Fiddlesticks envied, and she was telling the pegasus as such that morning.
Lightning hummed. “See, I’ve kinda been thinking about that. Or, like, something that ties into that I guess,” she said around mouthfuls of scrambled eggs, to Fiddlesticks unending displeasure.
Fiddlesticks took a sip of her coffee. “So you’ve been thinkin’ of how jealous I am of you, huh?”
“That’s not what I said! I—” Lightning rolled her eyes as Fiddlesticks burst out laughing. “Yeah, haha, real funny. Now come on, let’s go outside.”
“What, right now?” Fiddlesticks’s brow furrowed. “But I haven’t even finished my coffee.”
Lightning groaned. “Yes, right now. Come on, have I ever led you astray?” Before Fiddlesticks could respond, she added, “Besides that time with the cactus.”
Sighing, Fiddlesticks stood up. “Alright, why the hay not.” She cast one last forlorn look at her coffee before following Lightning out the door.
The sun was just breaking above the horizon now, casting the desert landscape in gold, and turning the clouds ruby as adornment. It had been years since Fiddlesticks had gone out this early, and she marveled at the sight of it.
She whistled and said, “Alright, I’m thinkin’ it was worth it to come out here.”
Lightning snorted and ruined the atmosphere. “What, you think this is why I pulled you out here? No way.” She lowered herself and braced her legs. “Hop on my back, then you’ll see.”
Fiddlesticks regarded the smaller mare warily. “Uh… You sure that’s a good idea? I don’t want to hurt you or anythin’.”
Lightning scoffed. “Come on, I’m tougher than I look, and I’m a pegasus. Once we’re flying, I’ll barely even notice your weight.”
“Well, I guess so…” Fiddlesticks climbed onto Lightning’s back, and, true to her word, the pegasus barely reacted to the added weight. Lightning began flapping, and soon enough they were in the air, and Lightning’s words fully caught up with Fiddlesticks. “Wait, what was that you said about flyin’?”
Lightning laughed. “Hold on tight!” was her only reply.
Fiddlesticks did, and not even a second later they were off, rocketing through the air at speeds Fiddlesticks had never even dreamed of. The world passed below them in a blur, any distinct features being seemingly erased. Before she could even fully comprehend that, they burst through the clouds, like diving into the most vast ocean that could ever exist.
Lightning took them through intense twists and turns, and Fiddlesticks felt like her organs were being rearranged, but she didn’t care. She whooped with every trick and cheered every time Lightning brought them through a cloud.
Soon they were climbing, and things seemed to slow down some. Not enough for Fiddlesticks to truly catch her breath, but enough that she was left to wonder what would happen next. Maybe Lightning would dive down as fast as she could, show off her best speed. Maybe she’d do the same tricks as before, but this time with some extra velocity behind them.
And then they were upside down, and Fiddlesticks realized Lightning was bringing them through a huge loop. Later, she would think about the skill necessary to pull off a loop like that. Later, she would think about the skill necessary to do any of what Lightning had done this morning, even without the added weight she brought. But now?
Now, in the moment, time seemed to stop. Her body felt weightless, like she was just floating in space without a care in the world. Fiddlesticks’s breath caught in her chest as she took in the world around them. It was so beautiful, so serene, and every last bit of it was within her reach.
After what felt simultaneously like a second and an eternity, the loop was over, and they were rocketing back to the ground. Lightning did a few more maneuvers to bleed off speed, and then they landed.
Fiddlesticks rolled off of Lightning’s back, and just lay on the dirt for a moment, trying to comprehend everything that had just happened.
“That was—”
“Amazing? Incredible? Awesome?”
“—like nothin’ I’ve ever experienced before! I mean, you made all that seem so easy, and I swear to Celestia I could feel in my bones how much of a natural you were! Everythin’ just made sense, even though I’ve never flown before.” Fiddlesticks grinned. “So, how’d you do it?”
Lightning shrugged nonchalantly, but she didn’t even try to hide her grin. “Eh, it was nothing, really. Flying is what I’m passionate about, so I just put all of myself into it. Doesn’t matter where I am or what I’m doing with my life, as long as I can fly.”
Fiddlesticks tensed at that response, and regarded Lightning coolly. “That’s what this was about, then,” she hissed.
“Wh—what do you mean?” Lightning asked, shrinking some under Fiddlesticks’s rage.
“All this time, I thought you were my friend, but you were just settin’ everythin’ up to attack my playin’ again. I can’t believe you, Lightnin’!”
Lightning blinked. “Wait, you think—Fiddlesticks, you are my friend! But I’m worried about you, I know I’m not good at talking or anything but I can tell you’re like, not doing great? Which I get, because I’ve been there, I know how awful it is, and all I want to do is help. I know I messed up badly when I put my hoof in my mouth when we first met, so I thought, I don’t know, showing you this would spark something for you? I’m not trying to make you feel worse, I don’t want that, I—”
Fiddlesticks laughed. It was a sickening, bitter, twisted thing that seemed to suck the joy out of the air that produced it. “You talked your way out of this before, but I’m done listenin’ to your horseapples, Lightnin’.”
Lightning’s eyes were wide, and she looked to be on the verge of tears. “But—I’m just trying to—”
“Save it. Go bother somepony else, because I don’t want nothin’ to do with you no more.”
The desert air was still, and silence reigned around them, weighing down oppressively. Lightning closed her eyes and sniffled.
“If that’s what you want—”
“It is.”
“—then you’ll never see me again.”
With a flap of her wings, Lightning shot off into the sky, and Fiddlesticks sat there alone on her porch. She swallowed, and then walked into a house that felt emptier than ever.