//------------------------------// // Chapter 10: A Shimmer of Light in the Dark // Story: The Last Vacation // by Noble Thought //------------------------------// “Twi?” The hand on her head rustled her hair, then pinched her ear. “We’re back.” “Ow.” Twilight lifted her head from Rainbow’s lap, groaned and swatted at the hand. “I wasn’t really asleep.” And she hadn’t been, she realized. Half-remembered dreams swam through the groggy murk in her mind, of conversations half-heard or fully hallucinated, and the answers she’d given. But she still felt as rested as if she’d had a full night’s sleep. “Oh?” Rainbow patted a wet spot on her pant-leg, grinning. “Then I suppose you don’t drool in your sleep either. You were awfully mumbly, too.” Twilight blushed, shaking her head and rubbing away the wet spot at the corner of her mouth. “Sorry.” “Hey, no prob. But you’d better get up.” The van was stopped and empty, and the sun was starting to go down, just a few degrees above the line of the cliffs glimpsed through the glass-walled house. “How long was I asleep?” “Couple hours.” Rainbow shrugged, cheeks coloring. “We got back about two hours ago, but you looked so peaceful sleeping there that I didn’t want to wake you. And my phone took that long to recharge.” “I asked you to wake me up when we got back.” Irritation hardened her voice into an edge. “Yeah. But you’ve had a pretty crazy… month. I figured you could use some down-time. Rarity didn’t disagree, and neither did Fluttershy.” Rainbow shrugged again. “And… I kinda wanted to let you rest, drool and all, y’know. It felt nice, having you close like that. Besides, you can’t have slept all that well last night.” Her cheeks flamed brighter, and she rubbed at the back of her neck. “Sorry.” “Well…” Twilight pushed aside the irrational annoyance with an effort, but it still clung to her thoughts. “I haven’t really had a chance to get my feet under me. I’m not used to things changing so much.” Rainbow nodded, still rubbing the back of her neck. “And I appreciate what you’re trying to do, all of you. And I love all of you for it.” Her throat tightened as she said it. There was something about the way the girls, her friends, all cared for one another in a way she’d never experienced at Star Swirl, where the top spot in academic performance was always the goal, and she had held that spot for so long that no one else had ever looked at her except as an impediment to their own success or as a tool to improve their standing—not to her knowledge, anyway. And now… “Hey, Twi? You okay? I’m sorry I didn’t wake you up, okay? Really.” Rainbow was watching her, brows furrowed, one hand resting on her knee, kneading lightly. “Don’t cry, okay?” She was about to deny that she was, but when she touched her cheek, her fingers found the wet trails just forming. “Yeah,” she said through the ache in her throat. “Yeah. I’m fine. Really. Just… thinking.” “Well, stop it. Unless it’s happy thoughts.” Rainbow shifted in her seat, winced, “Come on, let’s go inside. My butt’s asleep.” She was immediately recruited into helping make dinner by Pinkie Pie while Rainbow Dash was dragged off to talk to Applejack, Fluttershy and Rarity in the upstairs bedroom. “What are they talking about?” she asked. “Oh, stuff. Like…” Pinkie shrugged and handed her a plastic squeeze tube with blue-speckled batter inside. “Well, you’ll have to ask Rarity. It was all her idea, and she told me to keep it secret.” She drew a finger across her lips and made a throwing motion. “Oh.” It had to be about her, and she wanted to ask. Instead, she said: “Blueberry pancakes for dinner?” “Yeah! It’s gonna be so awesome. We were supposed to have them this morning, but then the gas thing happened last night, and we had to go to Hayseed and get the gas and then we had to miss breakfast because we had to go to Hayseed to get gas…” Pinkie grinned. “It was all such a mess, and this stuff’ll go bad if we let it sit another day. Ice is almost all gone in the—Shoot! We forgot to get ice in Hayseed!” “We were in a hurry to get back,” Twilight said automatically, and blinked, waiting for her brain to process the stream of data.  A moment later, she caught up. “Can’t you tell me at least a little of what Rarity is talking to Rainbow about?” “Well, it’s not just Rarity. It’s Fluttershy and Applejack, too.” Pinkie tapped Twilight’s nose with a finger. “I said we shouldn’t, but Rarity said we should, so I’m making dinner with you!” “It’s about Rainbow Dash and I, isn’t it?” Pinkie arched an eyebrow and tapped her lips. “They could be talking about super-secret Glee Club things.” “Aren’t you the president of the Glee Club?” “Yep! But what if it’s so secret I can’t know about it?” Pinkie splattered a generous tab of bacon fat into the pan and stirred it around. “Wait for my signal. It’s gotta be just right. Melted, but not bubbling.” She opened her mouth, shut it again when Pinkie waggled a finger at her. It could have been something else, she supposed, and she could also actually be a pony princess, too. She snorted, waiting for Pinkie’s signal to squirt some batter into the pan. “Pinkie… can I tell you something? A secret?” “Sure can. Now.” “I’m not sure—” “No, no. Batter, now.” Pinkie pointed. “Oh.” She squeeze a dollop of batter in, added more when Pinkie rolled her hand in a ‘keep going’ motion, and stopped when it was almost the size of the pan. Pinkie didn’t stop rolling her hand. “But there’s no more room!” “Of course there is, silly. My head’s not empty, but I’ve got lotsa room for my best friends!” “Uh… right.” She sighed and laid the batter tube down and leaned against the counter while Pinkie poked at the edges of the pancake with a spatula. She held onto what she wanted to say, mulling it over in her mind, stopped herself, and just let her mouth say what was in her mind. It was good at that. “I don’t think I’m in love with Rainbow Dash.” “You’re not sure you aren’t?” “Well, no. Wait, yes. No…” Twilight ticked off a finger, sighed, and shook her head. “I haven’t really had a lot of time to get used to the idea that I might be, or that I might not be. I just… I have this feeling that this morning, what happened between us, was a mistake. Or that Rainbow wants something that I can’t give her. Or I want something she can’t give me.” “Er… well, this might sound a little weird, but what you need to do is grab the problem by the shoulders,” Pinkie said, demonstrating on Twilight. “And tell it that you’re in charge. I’m in charge! And this pancake is way too big to flip!” “O-okay…” Twilight glanced at the pancake, its surface bubbling, but not yet popping. “And how do you solve the problem?” “You get someone else to help you, duh. The pancake needs to be flipped, but I can’t flip it on my own. Would you help me flip it? It’s gonna take teamwork, and coordination, and a little luck, but I think we can do it together.” “So you’re saying I should talk to Rainbow about—” “Come on, this pancake ain’t gonna flip itself! Bubbles are popping, it’ll get burnt!” A minute later, a perfectly golden, blueberry speckled pancake was looking up at them, with a tab of butter melting into a smiley face sending up a waft of pure gastronomic bliss. “So… you were saying something about Rainbow, right?” “Yeah. But I think I’ve got it figured out.” “Pancakes fix everything,” Pinkie said sagely, nodding. Twilight laughed. A few more pancakes later, all of them being kept warm with their much bigger brother, Rainbow and the other girls came back down. “So…” Rainbow glanced back at Rarity and walked over to the far corner of the spacious all-purpose room. Twilight followed, throwing glances at the rest of her friends huddled in quiet conversation in the kitchen area. They had been talking to Rainbow about her. “Have you ever had a girlfriend?” Rainbow blushed, rubbed her hands together, seemed to realize what she was doing and stuffed them in her pants pockets. “Or a boyfriend?” “N-no.” She shot another look at Rarity and Applejack. “Unless you count us.” “I don’t think so. We’re…” Rainbow shrugged. “I don’t know what. Friends, sure. More than friends? I dunno.” “I—” Pancakes came to mind, thoughts about making too big a mess, being unable to keep from being burned or burning Rainbow. “We’re kinda messy, right now.” “Yeah. You could say that.” Rainbow laughed, then frowned and leaned against the wall of windows, tracing a finger around the shape of a heart. “I had a girlfriend for about a week last year. Not even really sure if I can call her that. Cloudkicker. We went on two dates. Kissed once, and I thought she was the one. You know, typical stupid kid dream, thinking that first kiss is special. And then I found out she was just experimenting. It got messy…” Rainbow frowned, drawing an invisible slash through the heart.  “I don’t want that between us, Twi. I mean, Kicker and I are friends again, now, but for a few months we couldn’t even talk to each other. Or I couldn’t. I hated her for toying with me. That was before Other You showed up. I forgave her after that… because she left us and made me realize that I didn’t know what would happen tomorrow. I didn’t want the last thing I told her to be that I didn’t want to talk to her again.” Rainbow Dash fell silent, face a mask of unknowable emotion, hands fidgeting at her sides until she stuffed them into her pants pockets and glared over Twilight’s shoulder. Her head started to shake, but after a moment, she blushed and closed her eyes, and reached a hand up, the motion jerky and uncertain, and brushed her fingers against Twilight’s arm. “Talk to Rarity and Applejack, or Fluttershy, or Pinkie Pie. Just don’t think about it without asking for help. You’re not alone, Twi, and they can all help you. I know what I want. But… I don’t want to influence your decision in the wrong way. You’re too… trusting of others, and I didn’t realize it.” What she wanted wasn’t that hard to guess. Twilight shook her head. “Gullible, you mean. I know that. I’m not very socially aware.” “No. Stop that.” Rainbow prodded her shoulder. “I meant what I said. You trust in other people’s opinions more than yourself. You’ve got no confidence, I suppose is what I’m trying to say. You need that. I’d love to help, but I don’t know how I can. Unless you’d respond well to me yelling at you like a coach.” “Yeah, I don’t think that would work out all that well.” With dinner gurgling in her stomach like a particularly foul chemistry experiment, Twilight tugged on her jacket and stocking cap, and stepped up close to Rainbow, one hand on her friend’s shoulder. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Rainbow only grunted in response. “You sure about this, sugar cube?” Applejack bounced the keys to the van in her palm and glanced at Rainbow Dash, beside her, sulking silently. “I mean, if ya need to talk somethin’ out…” “I appreciate it, really. But I need some me time. I need time to figure out what’s going on in here.” She touched her temple, then her heart. “And in here before I can talk about it.” A lie, sort of. The weight of her cell phone in her jacket pocket felt like it was obvious to everyone, but no one glanced at where it lay hidden. “At least tell us where you’re goin’.” Applejack waggled the keys. “Sure, it’s isolated out here, and ain’t no wildlife bigger’n a rabbit, but what if you get hurt, walkin’?” “I’m taking a flashlight with me,” she said, waving the slim cylinder. “And I promise I’ll stay in sight of the house.” While precise and true—Twilight could see the place she wanted to sit, someplace that should have been dry throughout the deluge that afternoon—it was still a good ten minutes slow drive away, up the winding track to the cliff’s head. A good half-hour’s hike, and good exercise, up the slow-winding slope. Rainbow Dash peered up at her from the bastion of her arms, looking beetle-browed and sullen, and let out a hefty sigh. “Fine, but can I talk to you before you go?” A glance up at Applejack, a jerk of her chin, and she looked pointedly outside. “Alone.” “Sure thing.” Applejack retreated, pocketing her keys, and tossed herself on the couch next to Rarity, who started braiding her hair without a hint of protest. “That’s just weird,” Rainbow muttered, catching Twilight’s elbow gently and guiding her out of the house and onto the porch facing the cliff. “Are they…” “Dunno. If they are, they’re awful quiet about it.” Rainbow shrugged, posture tight as she leaned against the glass wall, just a few feet from where they’d talked earlier. Twilight could make out the smudge mark where Rainbow had drawn a broken heart in fog. “I think you might be thinking too much about it, us, instead of talking it out.” “I know, Rainbow,” Twilight said, “I know you said I should talk to them. And I will. I promise. I just need…” She trailed off, word of Sunset’s distress on her lips. She wanted to tell Rainbow, and get her and her friends’ advice on that, too, but she swallowed what she wanted to say and shrugged uncomfortably. “Then why are you going off to walk and think about it on your own? We can… I want you to really be here with us, Twi, not just off in your own world or with your nose tucked in a textbook.” “Well, you all supervised my packing, so I don’t have any. I only have my notebook and a few small novels.” A small solace, because she couldn’t think of anything to write in it. Every time she opened it to put down her thoughts about friendship, they left. And the Daring Do novels didn’t hold any appeal in the middle of her own adventure. “I haven’t had a moment to myself since I got here, and barely any at all since I left Star Swirl. I need me time.” “Yeah. And that’s good to have, but…” Rainbow shrugged, reached out to stroke a hand over Twilight’s shoulder, touching her neck, lips moving and words trying to come out, but after a few moments Rainbow just shrugged and folded her arms across her chest again, closing herself off. “I worry we’ll lose you, too, but you’ll be right there. That’d be worse than you just going away.” “No. I promise that won’t happen. You all make me so happy I can’t even say. I can’t imagine a life without any of you anymore.” “But you’re not happy! I’ve seen it. You’ve been moping since we got here. Sort of. I mean… you’ve gotten quieter since you got here, not more talkative. And you keep peering at your journal.” “I am happy. I promise I am.” Twilight leaned forward, hesitated, eyes on Rainbow’s lips. First kiss. She ducked, instead, and pressed her cheek to Rainbow’s shoulder, drawing her arms around Rainbow’s waist and holding her close for a moment. “This is the first time I’ve really had to sit and think about things since I found all of you. Everything’s just moving so fast.” Rainbow stiffened at the last, sighed, and planted a kiss in Twilight’s hair, hugged her briefly and let her go. “Okay. You go and think. We’ll be ready when you get back.” Twilight nodded, stepped back, met Rainbow’s eyes, and smiled, but Rainbow was looking over her shoulder instead of at her, mouth set in a firm line. She recognized it from many stubborn moments, and angry ones. “I didn’t mean—” “Go, Twi. You and me,  we’ll talk later, okay?” Rainbow met her eyes, then, and smiled. “Figure out what you need to, and I’ll figure out what I need to.” She jerked her head back towards the four girls watching them not very subtly. “Okay.” The light spilling from the house dimmed rapidly as she made for the dark gray edifice of the cliff and the faintly gleaming, lighter gray of the gravel path running up it. The nighttime enfolded her in its cool embrace, the sky above crystalline clear without even a hint of city-glow marring the stars, the night air crisp and cool, filled with the smells of a recent rainfall. The front had swept over the cove swiftly, knocking down their badminton net and cutting runnels in the sand around the beach-house where the swiftly disappearing rain had run. Sand squelched underfoot, and made Twilight glad of the high-top boots she’d chosen to wear for the hike, for the water was surely cold, and still formed puddles here and there where dunes—dimples in the sand, really—had not been washed away. Her flashlight was hardly needed for the several hundred feet to the beginning of the ramp, the sand smooth enough to be seen, and the few bits of driftwood that reclined so high up darkly contrasting with the pale sand. It was, she reflected as she flicked on the light and started hiking uphill, a perfect night for stargazing. Or for navel gazing. She sighed. Ever since she had convinced her parents to let her transfer to Canterlot High, overcoming their protestations of prestige and standing with the simple expedient truth of ‘I’m not happy there,’ her life had become like a roller coaster. The quiet days of study in the library, the advanced physics and chemistry experiments, the simpler biology classes, were all gone. In their place, she had friends who, for better or worse, had invaded her life. But she was happier. She couldn’t even pretend that wasn’t true. Even her brother, notorious prankster that he was, made note of it rather seriously and said he was happy for her, even if their parents were privately disappointed. Cadance had even taken her aside to talk about boys—at her parent’s pleading, she later found out, trying to find out about that Flash Sentry boy. Cadance, marriage counselor that she was, had talked to her about more than boys, but about love in general, and what it meant in the patients she saw day in and day out. “In everyone, love is different. It has different meanings, different ways of being expressed, and different ways of being viewed. But, for everyone, love is the same.” She hadn’t understood that then, and she didn’t understand it anymore after having maybe fallen in love with another girl. Or fallen in crush. When she asked Cadance what it meant, Cadance smiled. “Love is always confusing.” “Darn right it is,” she muttered. “Even if I’m not even sure I’m in love.” And that was a part of the problem. She loved Rainbow Dash for being such a supportive friend, who’d stood up for her in the face of Flash— And why had he called her that afternoon? Or, Sonata had. She giggled, remembering the flustered protestations through the phone, the jumbled explanation from Sonata, and her too-serious inquiry “I am not making it worse. I’m apologizing. That can’t be worse, right?” “Who knew,” she told a passing plant. She never would have believed two such disparate people would have gotten together if she hadn’t heard it herself. Or were they? Disparate or together, the question of whether they were either or both swirled without answer. She stopped at the flat top of a curve and looked out over the beach, the lights from the house spreading a golden glow around the sand, flickering with the light of the fireplace and the solar lights dotting the outside. The only thing stopping her from trying to reason out the why and how of Sonata and Flash sounding so friendly was the weight in her jacket pocket, minute though it was, acting as a reminder that she had to call Sunset Shimmer. Her friend needed her more than she needed to understand. She started up the slope again, doggedly forcing her focus on each crunching step up the dark gravel path. The gravel shone in the harsh cone of light, shimmering wetly, a warning against the misstep that would send her foot sliding over slick rocks. Her phone felt lighter in her hand than in her pocket while she searched for a signal—duly noting the twenty-seven minutes of elapsed time on its clock—and headed for the covered picnic area tucked into a copse hidden from the road. It was still visible from the house, a place she had spied early one morning when the sun had outlined the slatted wood beams and the bench. The rough wood had mostly rotted away, leaving only rusted steel and a mess of planks that had looked sturdier from a distance. The degree of rot and rust spoke of an age to the place that said more than Rarity’s parents and Prim Hemline before them had an interest in the cove. “Guess I’m standing, then,” she murmured, scrolling through her contacts. The mess she would accumulate even trying to sit anywhere in the ruin would send Rarity into a fit. Maybe that was for the best. Warm front it might have been, but the mass of air that carried the storm across the plains to the coast was still early spring air, and especially chilly at night up on the edge of the cliff. Bee-bee-bee. The trilling beep of a call connecting, then the break and hiss of the connection opening. “Hello? Twilight?” Sunset Shimmer sounded tired even through the phone. “I’m so glad you called.” “Hi.” What to say next trundled through her mind, lost in a maze of question and thought. “How are you?” Sunset laughed, accompanied by a whoosh and thump. Twilight could just see her falling back into bed. “You have no idea how good it is to hear your voice. I’ve missed you.” Pause. “All of you, I mean.” “I’ve missed you, too, Sunset. Why didn’t you come along with us?” “Dreams,” Sunset muttered, so low Twilight almost didn’t catch it. “Dreams? Why would you not want to come along because of dreams?” “I didn’t want to be a humbug. They’re happy and sad at the same time, and I would have been a burden for you all to deal with me in the morning.” “What are they about?” “They’re about what I gave up, about home. Y’know, Equestria.” Sunset let out a loud sigh. “Winter Wrap Up is over by now, and the trees will be growing new leaves, flowers will be budding… no more stale hay or oats.” Twilight blinked at the phone, put it back to her ear. “Right. Pony.” Sunset’s laugh thrilled up her spine, rough, a little husky, it was a laugh she never got tired of hearing. “Yeah, pony. I miss it sometimes, you know. But human taste buds don’t think much of hay, and oats are just another cereal grain to me, now.” Like that, the laughter was gone. “What do you miss most?” She cursed herself for not bringing her notebook and pen. She could write it all down and make sure— “All of it. Just… my parents, the school, the sun and moon, the night sky, the city. Everything I turned my nose up at.” Sunset’s voice faded, replaced by the slow rush and muted thump of her heartbeat against the phone. Twilight listened to the rhythmic pulse, tears in her eyes, hearing Sunset’s answer repeated in its low beat over and over again until she eased the phone away. The way she’d spoken—slow, savoring the meaning of each word, with a sigh running through it all—hurt to hear and bear it without giving Sunset a hug. She settled for hugging herself. It wasn’t the same, or even close. “What’s home like?” A long silence stretched out, punctuated and accentuated by the rustle of night life in the thicket around her. Finally, “It’s not important.” The curt reply stung. “Why?” “Leave it alone. I’m not… I can’t face that right now. The dreams are bad enough on their own.” The phone rustled and, faintly, Twilight heard a repetitive rush and thud, muffled and indistinct through the white noise silence, and realized it was Sunset’s heartbeat this time. She pictured Sunset in her mind, and her heart ached, seeing her friend lying still, the phone’s mic pressed into her throat by tense muscles and a want for... For what? “Sunny,” she said slowly. “How can I help?” The silence was shorter this time. “Just talk. Please. I need… I need you to just talk to me.” Haltingly at first, but growing steadier as the words spilled out and the memories filled her again, she told Sunset about the vacation. She left out the parts about her journal, but told Sunset everything else: the first day, her fears about being her and not other her, singing to Rarity, her braided hair, the house maybe being sold, walking on the beach with Fluttershy. She hesitated, the hand tucked into her pocket reliving the feel of Fluttershy’s fingers in hers, and Rainbow’s rougher hand stroking her cheek—waking up with Rainbow dash atop her. Her cheeks flamed. “Twilight?” “I slept with Rainbow Dash.” It came out, blurted, and Twilight slapped a hand over her mouth. “What!” Sunset’s voice faded into incoherence a moment before the phone thumped, bumped and went dead. “Stupid mouth!” She stared at the phone, wondering if she should call back, or if Sunset didn’t want to talk to her. A moment later, as if in answer to her fear, her phone rang. “H-hello?” “Sorry. Dropped the phone. Now, repeat what you just said.” Sunset’s voice crackled through the phone like the staccato beat of a drum, commanding, demanding. “I-I fell asleep with Rainbow Dash.” “That’s not what you said. You didn’t—” “No!” Her cheeks were on fire and she wanted to hang up, but she dared not. “No… She fell asleep leaning on me. When we woke up, she was on top. S-she had her hand in my pajamas. But not creepy like that… she thought they were her PJs.” “Uh-huh.” Sunset made a sucking noise, her thoughtful pose popping into Twilight’s head, chewing on her lower lip, head cocked to one side. “And then?” “We woke up. Everyone laughed… and I think I might be dating Rainbow, now.” “You think,” Sunset said dryly. “You think you might be dating someone. You’re not sure.” Twilight told her, haltingly, and with many prods, about the talk she’d had with Rainbow in the morning, with her face inches from the other girl’s, and later in the van. At the end of it, she said, “I don’t know if I love her or not. There might be, but I don’t know if we’re… y’know, compatible with each other. School and learning are so important to me, and not so much sports and winning.” “Yeah. I wouldnt’ve pegged you two as an item. Or even potentially. I mean, you’ve both got that drive, but…” Sunset’s shrug came through the phone inaudibly. “So… what are you going to do?” “I have no idea. I mean, what if it’s a crush? But I don’t think it is. Crushes are—” She had no experience with crushes, she realized, and stopped. Sunset picked up in a soft tone, “You can’t stop thinking about the other person, dream about them, and whenever they smile at you, it’s like the burdens of the world are a little lighter, but you can’t tell them because…” She trailed off, groaning. “Yeah. I don’t think you’re crushing on Rainbow, either. So why’d you think it might be?” “Well, I got a call from Flash. He said something about crushes.” “That guy?” Sunset snorted. “He’s not puppy-dogging after you anymore, is he?” “I don’t think so. You two used to date, right?” “I used him,” Sunset said quietly. “That’s different.” “He called to apologize.” Twilight glanced at the bench again, decided to risk it, and sat down. The cold, rotten wood bled through her pants immediately, but her feet stopped aching. “Well, him and Sonata. Didn’t you go to see them?” “Yeah.” Twilight waited a long count of three for more. “And?” “Adagio’s a bitch. Capital B. Aria’s not much better, and Sonata just kinda… wasn’t even there.” Sunset sighed again. Twilight waited, trying to think of more to say, and trying to find a comfortable way to sit with the feeling of soaked jeans pressed against her rear. Sunset continued after a long wait, “So, Flash and Sonata. How’d they sound?” “Cheerful. Sonata… she seemed earnest, but a little off somehow, I dunno. I just remember her seeming to actually enjoy all the music, even Snips and Snails. Y’know, when she wasn’t trying to steal our souls—” “Magic, Twi. They just wanted the magic that comes from disharmony.” “Oh. Well, Flash, I think, just wanted to apologize for what he said under their control.” She stood up again, brushed off her butt with one hand, and kicked away some creeper grass from the concrete foundation. “They were both laughing at the end, I think. They sounded good, together, and he didn’t seem to hate her.” “Weird. Flash isn’t one to let go of a grudge easy when he’s been the one hurt.” Sunset’s rueful grin came through the phone. “Trust me. I know. So… Flash and Sonata. Friends. I wonder what her sisters will think of that…” With no idea what to say next, Twilight studied the small space she’d cleared on the ground, sighed, and sat amid the bracken left over. The silence stretched out, her mind blank, and she wished for a phone cord to twiddle around her finger. She settled for fiddling with the drawstring on her hoodie. “If you don’t love her, let her know,” Sunset said finally, her voice barely audible through the phone. “How? Just tell her ‘I don’t think this is going to work’ and hope for the best?” “Well, yeah. Don’t just mess around with her, be upfront and honest. I mean, you said she didn’t know either, right?” “Yes. But… she wants there to be something.” It felt uncomfortable, thinking that she might let one of her best friends down, someone who might love her. “Won’t it hurt her? More… I mean. I think… Maybe I said too much. I think she knows.” “Maybe, if she’s already crushing on you.” Sunset’s voice trailed off. “I could actually see that, kinda. You know she has a crush on Spitfire, right?” “But she’s ten years older!” “Heh. Yeah, but Rainbow’s idolized her since foalhood—childhood. And besides, crushes don’t care about measly things like age and spec-specifics like that.” Twilight blinked at the odd slip of the tongue. “That doesn’t make a lot of sense.” “Eh… Crushes rarely do. But my point is that you need to think about you, too, Twilight. What do you want? What will make you happy? Because I can guarantee that if you aren’t happy, she won’t be either, in the long run.” She thought about it for a long moment, listening to Sunset breathing quietly—or was it the feedback of her own breath, or the wind? “I don’t know what I want,” she said at last. “Well, you’d better figure it out. The more you delay, the more it’s going to hurt both of you if the answer is no.” “I wish you were here.” Almost, she felt Sunset smile through the phone, and closed her eyes to feel the warmth of the streak of light connecting them. It felt stronger, as though talking to Sunset were some magnifying glass. “Yeah, me, too.” The wistful note in Sunset’s voice hurt to hear, but if faded as she sighed. “But I can’t. Mr. and Mrs. Peach decided to take their yearly vacation a little early, and asked if I could look after their animals.” Twilight could have sworn the short pause was a shrug. “I said yes. What else was I gonna do? You guys were away for the week. And…” The light faded minutely as she trailed off into the same murmuring beat rising just above the hissing connection. Twilight opened her eyes, letting go of the vision of light before it weakened even more. “And you thought you could handle being alone for a few days.” “Well, I thought I’d be spending more time with the Dazzlings, y’know getting to know an old foe like y’all did… like they did for me. But that fell through.” Sunset’s rueful chuckle crackled over the connection. “Guess I couldn’t as well as I thought. But I think hearing a friendly voice should keep me going for a few more days.” “But what… Sunny, what hurt you so much? Just being lonely?” Silence hummed over the connection. “Sunny?” “I can’t tell you.” “Can’t, or won’t?” More silence followed, and a sense of drawing back that she couldn’t place the reason for feeling. “Please, Twilight. Just let it go. I-I should be okay, now. I’m glad you called.” It was clearly the end of the conversation, and the silence hung for a long moment, but Twilight still didn’t know what had set Sunset off, what had hurt her so much she had to reach out. Dreams about home, she could understand, but why had Sunset decided not to tell the others? She still didn’t know why. She was tired of not knowing why. “That’s it? Thanks for calling, glad to hear from you, and now I’m fine?” Twilight stared at the phone for a long second, irrationally angry, and knowing she was being irrational but unable to help it. “Sunset, you had me worried all day today! I was worried you were lying to keep me satisfied that you were okay.” She choked, her fingers tightening on the phone until she heard the plastic case creak. “Sunny, you scared me!” “Whoa, whoa! What? No, I never meant to make you worry. I know you’ve been stressed.” The phone rustled again, and Sunset’s voice came through clearer, halting at first. “I-I just wanted to hear your voice, Twilight. I’m sorry I worried you. I just wanted to hear a friendly voice that didn’t neigh or nicker or just ignore me and take the apple out of my hand without another glance.” “You thought the horses would be enough,” she said flatly. “Yeah. Pony, right?” Sunset laughed shakily. “Some kinda rapport, or something. I mean, I get along better with them than the Peaches do, and they’ve had Molly and Jessup for nearly a decade. And they’re smarter than most people here give them credit for.” “So why did you text me? Why not call?” The anger faded to a simmer in her head, and she relaxed her grip on the phone, fingers aching. “Why me?” “Because…” Sunset trailed off. “I trust you.” “And you don’t trust our friends?” “N-no! That’s not it at all! It’s the dreams. They’re not just dreams of home.” The phone seemed to hum with tension, and Twilight pressed her ear to it. “They’re dreams about all of them, too, and I can’t get them out of my head.” She let the silence linger, not wanting to ask, wanting Sunset to tell her without prompting. Sunset didn’t make her wait long, and the sound she made through the phone—almost a whimper—set off a pang in Twilight’s chest, but Sunset started talking again before she could do or say anything. “I was afraid of what they’d say if they knew I was talking to you, what you might think of what they said. In the dreams, the other girls don’t like me all that much. Rainbow Dash hates me, and Rarity still dislikes me for what I did to her. I’m always there in the room, invisible, when they talk about me. Applejack blames me for everything that went wrong during the Battle of the Bands. Pinkie and Fluttershy… Pinkie said she wouldn’t throw me a birthday party even if it was the last party on earth, and Fluttershy says things to me…” Her voice was breaking apart at the end of it. “That’s what the dreams are. In my heart, I know they’re false, but they stick with me, and I can’t forget them. I look at the girls at school and I see the dreams again, I hear what they say about me.” Sunset snuffled loudly. “I hate it! I can’t tell them, I couldn’t tell you because you might think I was crazy. But the you in the dreams isn’t you. It’s Other Twilight. She tells me that Princess Celestia would throw me in a deep, dark dungeon if I ever came back, or banish me to the moon. But I know it’s not you. You never say anything to me in the dreams. That’s why—” The rush of words halted abruptly, leaving Sunset’s heavy breathing on the other side of the connection the only sign she was still there. Twilight felt like she’d been punched, and could only listen to the hissing connection, the active nightlife, processing what her friend was saying, and hardly able to believe it—but knowing that Sunset wasn’t lying. She just knew it in her heart. “I have to wonder, every time they help me, how much of what they do is because they feel like they owe something to Other Twilight. All because of stupid, stupid dreams!” A heavy, muffled whump came through the phone, followed by a muffled scream and, clearer: “I hate this! I just want to enjoy being with all of you.” “Sunny…” Twilight’s thoughts leapt to magic. The dreams Sunset was suffering might be some kind of magical malady, maybe even Equestrian homesickness. Or maybe it was stress. Sunset was at least as academically inclined as she, and the lack of wholly valid credentials in the human world had to be working against her chances at higher learning. Or it was simple doubt working against her instead. “I wondered the same thing, you know,” Twilight said. She leaned back against the rotted bench seat, shrugged against it, and tried to compose her thoughts. “I had to wonder how much of what they saw in me came from Other me. You should have come with us, Sunny. I’ve seen that it’s not so much that. They really do love me for me, and I’m sure they love you for you, too.” “And you?” It was barely a squeak through the phone. “Even after the trouble I put you through today? For such a stupid thing.” “Of course! And it’s not stupid, Sunny.” She lifted a hand to her heart, feeling the ache, reliving the earlier panic. “It sounds serious, Sunset. What if the dreams are something more than just worries of your own? What if it’s…” Better to leave speculation for later, when she had time to write in her journal. What anger she had left drifted away, leaving her mind empty of everything but an ache settling between her eyes. “Never mind that. They like you, too. All of us were disappointed when you didn’t come.” “You’re sure?” “Yes. You have no idea how much I was looking forward to calling you, and how much I hated having to keep it from them.” Twilight sighed, glanced at the time. She’d been talking to Sunset for almost two hours. “I need to go back to the beach house soon, and there’s no signal there. Can I tell them?” There was no answer for a long time, and all Twilight heard was Sunset’s ragged breathing through the phone, muffled sniffles making her heart ache, and Sunset’s face clear in her mind, streaked with tears. Finally, she got her answer: “Yes.” She made one more call before leaving the refuge, after urging Sunset to sleep, and staring at Cadance’s number, she called it. Straight to voicemail. Right, she was with Shining at some conference in Whinneapolis. “Hi! You’ve reached Cadance—and Shining Armor—leave a message after the beep.” “Hey, Cady. I just wanted to let you know that I know what you meant about love being confusing, now. I can’t wait—well, I can, but I want to talk to you so badly. I’ll call you again after Spring Break, okay? Bye.” She checked the time again, approaching ten-thirty. One last look down at the house showed the exterior lights were all off, and only the flicker of a dying fire danced in the darkest shadows not lit by the moon. The walk down the incline passed faster than she wanted, with Sunset’s plight, her loneliness, whirling through her thoughts. It made her wonder if she had been lonely all those years when her sole focus had been her studies and, occasionally, her family and, even less occasionally, Cadance. Another flashlight blinked on as she got lower, and the door opened. Rainbow Dash stood framed against the smattering of firelight flickering through the windows, waving. If she had been lonely before, she decided, it was in the past, and no matter anymore. “That was some walk,” Rainbow said, lowering the light and clicking it off when Twilight got in earshot. “You walk all the way to Canterlot and back?” She was grinning, but it faded when Twilight got closer. “No.” She walked up to Rainbow and switched off her flashlight, too, seeking comfort in the darkness and the other girl’s embrace. “I… talked to Sunset Shimmer. About us and about her. Rainbow…” The way she should say it eluded her, and she chewed on her lip for a moment. “Well, good for you. But what about her?” Rainbow pulled her closer. “I thought that was all taken care of. Like, didn’t she say she was with—” “She lied.” There, she’d said it, and with the admission, she stepped away from Rainbow. “She’s not doing well, and we need to help her.”