//------------------------------// // The Winner // Story: Dynamic Soarin' // by BlazzingInferno //------------------------------// “Where… where am I? Who won?” He was staring up into a brilliant white light. “Soarin? You’re awake?” It was Spitfire’s voice. “What happened? Where–ow!” Simply trying to turn himself was an exercise in agony. “Take it easy! Let me get the lights, hang on.” The overhead lights went from blinding to a dim glow. He was laying in a bed. The small room around him was sparse and depressing in a way that only a hospital could be. Spitfire was seated in a chair on his right, and she looked terrible. Her mane was a mess and her uniform was wrinkled. She’d thrown ponies out of the academy for looking half as disheveled. “I’m in the hospital?” “What tipped you off, the lousy bed or the bandages?” He glanced down at himself and frowned. His left side was covered in white cloth and medical tape. At least that explained why it hurt to move. “So what happened?” She smiled at shook her head. “You big blue idiot. You were in that wind for over a hundred laps. Do you know how fast you were going?” “How fast?” “The hay if I know. You’re lucky to be awake at all.” “Just tell me what happened.” She looked away. “You skimmed the cliff’s edge when you pulled out and smashed into one of the boulders. You left a whole lot of skin behind on the cliff face. You’re lucky you didn’t shear your wing off.” He looked her up and down a second time. She looked just as bad as he felt, although thankfully she only sported one bandage on her right wing. “Are you okay?” She glanced down at her hurt wing and turned so he couldn’t see it. “Oh it’s nothing. I had to carry what was left of you back to civilization, I sprained a wing when I botched the landing.” “You carried me back?” “Of course I did.” He bit his lip, one of the few parts of him that didn’t already hurt. “Thanks.” “Fleetfoot’s loving this, by the way. With both of us grounded she’s running the whole show.” “How long until we’re back up there?” “I should be good to go by the end of the week.” “And me?” “The doctor said a couple months, maybe more.” He frowned. “I guess that’ll make it easy to kick me off the Wonderbolts.” “What’re you talking about? You won, I owe you a date.” “I don’t want it.” “What?” “Just before I crashed I was trying to throw the race. I know you just wanted to bait me into the game, but you didn’t need to.” “I wasn’t just baiting you.” “Whatever. I don’t want a pity date that you’re not even going to like.” She kicked the side of his bed and pain shot up his back. “Who said it’s a pity date! Soarin… I was trying to throw the race too. Why do you think I pulled out of the wind early?” “Why would you do that?” It was her turn to bite her lip. “Because… because I think we both want the same thing.” “Us? A second chance?” She nodded. “I do. We’ve got some issues, sure, but what couple doesn’t? That is if you want to try again…” He attempted to nod and winced in pain. “I do. For the record, I never ever checked out another mare while we were dating, not even… you know who.” “I know, I know… why does she have to be so good and so young? She’s going to have my job if she keeps it up.” “Spitfire, it doesn’t matter. Nopony’s ever going to hold a candle to you, not in my book anyway.” She smiled, something she hadn’t done around him in ages. “So, how about we start over?” “What about favoritism? Talent scouting? Rainbow…” She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. “We’ll figure it out.”