//------------------------------// // Rehabilitation: Day Eighty Nine // Story: Rest for the Weary // by DismantledAccount //------------------------------// A thump jolted Fluttershy out of her slumber. A scream opened her eyes wide. A second thump, and she was already out of her room, her fluid motions seamless in the darkness. By the time the second scream tore out of Cliff’s throat, she was inside his room. He was thrashing around in bed, his horn alight. Each time he flailed, he covered an object in his blue glow and sent it hurtling into the other side of the room. Quickly sprinting to the bed, she ignored everything flying around her. Something smashed into her right wing, and she was sure she felt something snap, but the sharp pain was soon replaced by a dull ache. She stopped by his bedside and found that his wild eyes were completely open, but there was no clarity in them, only terror. Fluttershy caressed his face while items of all sorts continued to whiz past her head. She attempted to lock her eyes on his while singing to him in a calm, steady voice, but it had a little effect. He kept thrashing. After her lullaby had come to a close, she started another without missing a note, this time wrapping her forelegs around him and hugging him to her chest. Finally, she felt his heart slowing and heard less and less thumping as she saw the light of his horn dim. Leaning back, she could see his eyes glimmering with intelligence, and his breathing was deeper and slower. She left the bedside and retrieved the washcloth from where it had been thrown. Trotting back, she gently dabbed his brow until most of the sweat was gone. She returned the washcloth to the nightstand and finished her song. But when she stopped singing, she found Cliff’s foreleg on her own. “Please. Keep singing,” he said, looking into her eyes. She nodded and resumed. He closed his eyes but kept his ears angled towards her. She kept humming her simple tune for what felt like hours, and the blissful look never left his face. Once he drifted off, she stumbled back to her room and laid down. She was asleep before she hit the bed. “Cliff, are you coming?” called Fluttershy, sitting by the door. She had a small wicker basket looped over her wing. He groaned, his eyes closed, from his sprawled position atop the couch. “You said you wanted to,” she said. “That was before I had . . . didn’t sleep well for an entire week.” She trotted over to the couch and placed a forehoof on his shoulder. “I promise it’ll be fun,” she said, smiling, “and I’d really like your company.” He groaned once more and brought his hoof up to his brow. “Just let me sleep.” She softly sighed, her ears wilting. “Oh, all right. But if you change your mind, I’ll be outsi—” “Fine.” “I—” “Go,” he grunted. “Sorry,” she muttered, her head falling. Readjusting her basket, Fluttershy returned to the door and trotted outside. The air was a perfect temperature: not too hot, but not too cold either. Oranges, reds, and golds adorned each tree in a magnificent display that rivaled the spring’s flowers. A perfect blue filled the sky, and several pegasi were banking sharply as they raced around in the endless expanse. Fluttershy took a deep breath and smiled slightly as the season’s change filled her senses. Admiring the simple wonders, she strolled along the edge of the Everfree until she arrived at the small meadow. She pulled a small checkered blanket out of her basket and, after shaking it out, carefully spread it across the grass. She gently sat down and sighed, looking over at the spot where she wished Cliff was sitting. Heavy wing beats came from behind her, causing her ears to perk up; however, she gave no other indication that she heard. “. . . Hey, Fluttershy?” Cliff’s voice was tentative. “Hm?” She looked over her shoulder to see that Cliff was standing behind her, not quite meeting her eyes. “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry I snapped at you, and I  . . .” He drifted off into silence and made a half-hearted motion to the picnic area. She smiled and tucked her mane behind her ear. “Do you want to sit with me?” He flashed her a quick smile then trotted past her and took his seat, his face becoming somber once more. “I have no excuse for how I acted.” Fluttershy opened her mouth to speak, but he held up a foreleg. “I am truly sorry. You have been nothing but perfect to me, and I treated you like that.” “It’s fine. Really. I forgive you.” “Thank you, Fluttershy.” She nodded and began emptying the basket of the food. “Did I hurt you last night?” he asked. “Hm?” She looked over at him to see that he was staring intently at her slightly discolored right wing. “Oh, i-it’s n-nothing,” she stammered, quickly looking back down at the basket. “It’s not nothing, is it?” he slid closer and leaned down. “Can you open your wing?” She didn’t respond. “I didn’t break it, did I?” he asked quietly, his voice completely void of emotion. “No, no, no!” She spun to meet his gaze. “It’s just a little bruised.” “Promise?” he asked. “Promise. I’ll be just fine in another day or two.” She smiled. “Can I do anything to help?” he asked. “You don’t have to do anything. I’ll be fine soon. I promised, remember?” His gaze narrowed. “Is there something I can do right now that could help you?” “Well . . . um, I mean, there is one thing that could help. . . .” “Say it, and consider it done.” “Well, if you rub at the tip of my wing and slowly work your way up to the base, you can get the blood flowing. And bruises often heal better when the blood can flow around them,” she muttered sheepishly, hiding half her face behind her mane. He nodded once. “Lie down.” Also nodding, she laid out on the blanket and relaxed her wing. “Now, gently pull my wing ope—” She hissed quietly as he did as she instructed. “Last thing: please be gentle. It’s still sore.” “Of course, Fluttershy,” he said, lighting up his horn. With a feather-like touch, he covered her wing in his magic and massaged around, but never directly on, the bruise as he worked upwards. Next he rubbed the center of the ugly mark outwards and upwards. Fluttershy winced and held back tears until a few minutes later. “P-please stop,” she whimpered. She took a shuddering breath and spoke in a much calmer voice. “Thank you,” she said. She tapped the ground next to her then laid her head down on her forelegs. He nodded and laid down next to her, but a second later, he lit up his horn again. “What are you—ohhhh.” Her query turned into a moan as his magic danced over her back and pressed into the tense muscles. “I want to do this for you. You deserve it and more after all you’ve done for me. Please don’t ask me to stop.” Her eyes drifting closed, Fluttershy’s tongue poked out of mouth as her moaning turned into contented purring; she was in no condition to answer, anyways. Minutes later, she was asleep.