//------------------------------// // Rest is for the Dead. // Story: Tears of a Foal // by Rocinante //------------------------------// - - - ch 24 - - - Magic gathered around Luna's horn, but it was not her own: Celestia was sending her a letter. Leaving Clover’s side, she went into the common area to be away from the sensitive equipment before the spell fully manifested. The ponies there gave her little notice this time, having already accepted her as just another pony tending to a loved one. Relaxing her mind, Luna allowed the magic to flow through her. With a pop, a scroll appeared beside her. Taking the letter in her hooves, she unrolled it to see what her sister had sent. “Finished early. Be there soon,” the letter read. Returning to Clover’s room, Luna took her seat back by his side. “Celestia will be here in a few minutes,” she said, brushing his muzzle with a damp towel. Clover gave her a weak smile. She couldn’t help but admire the foal. He understood exactly how sick he was, yet seemed completely at peace. Picking up the story book, Luna continued reading him the tale of the pegasus and the dragon. She had only made it a few more paragraphs before the distinct sound of Celestia’s gait drew both their attentions to the open door. There was a pause in her hoofsteps for just a moment, then Celestia stepped through the door with a glowing expression. “How are you feeling?” she asked. “Not so bad,” Clover said, only his mouth moving as he spoke. Luna sat the book by the bed, and rose to hug her sister. “Have you spoken with the doctors?” A grim nod cracked her smile for a moment, but it returned as she sat by Clover’s side. “They told me you aren’t eating. Is there anything you want?” Clover managed to shake his head. “Friends, family.” Celestia leaned against the bed and pressed her head against his. She had done this so many times, but rarely so young. She opened her mouth to speak, but her voice hitched. Instead hot tears dripped from her to Clover. “We are going to do everything we can to get you through this.” Clover eased a hoof onto Celestia’s. “It is okay.” “Why are you the brave one?” Celestia asked, an odd kind of smile returning to her. Sitting up, she looked to her sister. “Thank you so much, but you should get some sleep.” “I shall,” Luna said, standing from her place. “However, do not hesitate to call upon me.” Waving her sister goodbye, Celestia then turned back to Clover, and rested a hoof on him. She watched him for a few moments, there was an air of tranquility to him that was almost contagious. “Promise me you’ll fight this.”  Celestia said rubbing his back. The touch bought a smile to Clover. “Feels good. Itchy.” Taking up the soft brush by the bed, Celestia worked it over his itchy pelt; getting hums of happiness from Clover as she went. He had dodged her words. It was something he was better at than many of the nobles, but this was one she wasn’t going to let slip. “Clover, I—” the sound of Luna entering the room again interrupted her words. “Something wrong?” Celestia asked. A coy smile on her sister was confusing her. “Not at all; I merely found some ponies that wanted to wish Clover well,” Luna said, as four foals and a litle dragon stepped quietly into the room. “Spike, I’m surprised you got here so fast,” Celestia said. His features were a mix of exhaustion and concern, making him look far older than he should have. “I sent him a letter this morning,” Luna answered for him. “Now I really must be off to bed. Farewell to you all.” Again Celestia waved her sister goodbye, then looked over Clover’s friends. They each had a different expression, from concern, to grief, to near panic. One was a new face to her. While she knew her name, she had never managed to meet the young mare. “Primrose,” Celestia gave her a nod. “I’m sorry we haven’t gotten to meet before now. I’ve heard many nice things about you.” Seldom from Clover, but Green often commented on the puppy love between the two foals. The filly went stiff with fear for a moment, her eyes locked onto her. Celestia couldn't help but sigh, taking her crown in hoof and sitting it on the bedstand. “We're all friends here,” she said. Primrose nodded, the worst of her fear melting away. “How is he?” Returning her attention to Clover, she found him smiling, and squirming to sit up. “Ask him yourself,” she said, pushing the button on the bed to raise Clover up. The young ones shuffled forward, spreading out around his bed. Each took time to wish him well, and tell him about one thing or another. Clover said little himself, preferring to silently appreciate the company. After a while, the small talk ran dry, and Spike pulled out a deck of cards. “Can he play cards?” he asked, looking up to her. Before she could answer, Clover chuckled. “We need chips.” Primrose traipsed out of the room, and by the time Celestia had the lap-table sat across the bed, she had returned with a full bag of rubber bands. With their makeshift chips, Spike pulled up a chair next to Celestia, and dealt out cards to everypony. The first hoof went to Clover, also the third, fourth and sixth. In spite of his inability to hold all his cards without dropping them, Clover seemed to have a nack at the game. At first Spike thought everypony was going easy on him, but by the eighth hoof, it was obvious that even Celestia was trying her very best to get some of her chips back. Clover smiled through it all, listening to the conversation around him, and laughing along with the others as piles of rubber bands moved from one player to the next, then inevitably in front of him. By the time most of the rubber bands were in Clover’s lap, exhaustion began to wash over him as well. “I think we need to let Clover sleep now,” Celestia said, as another round was concluded. Spike gathered the cards and bands, while the others gave their well-wishes, then went back out to the lobby. Once Primrose had left, it was only him and Celestia left with Clover. Taking Clover’s hoof between his claws, Spike looked him in the eye. There had been something in Clover’s expression today that he found familiar and unsettling. “You’re going to fight this, and get better,” Spike told Clover. Hoofsteps distracted Spike for a moment. Looking behind him, he saw Celestia leave the room. “Stay close, so you can be here,” Clover said. Spike spun back to face his all-but-brother. He knew that tone, he remembered that tired expression, that careless peace. Grampa Twinkle had been like this in his last few days. “You’re just giving up, aren’t you?” Spike said, letting go of Clover. The easy smile wilted to a frown, as Clover forced himself to look around the room. “We’re alone,” Spike said. Clover sighed. “I am tired. My memories are...” Clover’s voice faded searching for a word. “Jumbled,” Spike said, guessing the word. “Yes. I do not even know what I use to look like, but I do remember I should have died many, many years ago.” “Don’t say that,” Spike hissed. “And I know you remember more than you admit.” Clover leaned back, and closed his eyes. “Maybe I do. Before was bad. It has been nice here. I am ready. “What about me, what about your mom?” “You two will see me dead no matter what.” That creepy peace again appeared on Clover again as he settled in for a nap. “I’m mortal.” “You think that makes it alright to give up?” Spike fought to keep his voice quiet. “You think we treat friends like flowers. We just throw them out when they wilt, and forget them? Would you just say, “Oh well,” and move on if I died?” The air of peace over Clover vanished. Spike could tell he was trying to say something, but the words weren’t coming. “Excuse me,” The bright voice of a nurse called from the open door. “I’m sorry, but Clover really needs his rest.” Spike nodded to the nurse, then turned back to Clover. “Maybe we’re being selfish, but please, fight this for us.” He waited a second for a response, but Clover was asleep, or at least pretending to be. Stepping back, he passed the young nurse as she went to Clover’s side. He had met her before, but he couldn’t place where. “Take good care of him,” he said, pausing at the door. “I will,” she said, looking up from the needle drawing Clover’s blood. There was something about her smile that Spike took as a promise.