Rarity stayed.
The doctor, Doctor Daffodil, was kind enough to make a house visit the next time he needed to see her. I suppose he needed to see me, too, so that he could let me know what would be involved, what I could expect.
At first, I almost couldn’t tell the difference. Rarity still went through her usual routines, drafting, sewing, and doing martial arts forms. She seemed determined to not let it affect her, but little by little the changes became obvious. The lines in her face seemed to get deeper, and she looked more and more gaunt as time passed.
She rarely gave any hints of being in pain. Still, pain was unavoidable for her condition, and her painkiller prescription got more potent to account for it. Her attention span suffered.
There began to be days where I would find her staring off into nowhere with a blank expression. It wasn’t like before, where she would be reminiscing about something by herself and respond the moment you called out her name, where I could tell she was deep in thought. She kind of looked… empty. It took a few seconds for her to respond, and sometimes, even when she did, she still seemed like she didn’t even know where she was.
She persisted in her dressmaking despite it all, taking custom orders like before. But even though her workload was far less than when she was at Carousel Boutique, she was stretched beyond her limits. Moments of inattention turned delicate stitchwork into tangles, and rare materials of limited supply went to waste and had to be re-acquired. Pretty soon, deadlines she would have had no trouble meeting before passed her by. Her customers started demanding refunds.
She made her mind up to stop all her work at the end of November.
“Fluttershy?” She called to me from the tea table as I closed the clinic.
“Yes?”
“... I’ve come to a decision.”
“Um… what kind of decision?"
“I’m not… I’m not able to meet the demands of my clientele anymore.”
I’ll never forget the way she looked then. Her sad, dark eyes were cast down and aside at the window sill, and her lips were drawn together in a grim line. She looked absolutely crushed.
I could only nod in understanding.
“But I’d like to, at least, go out on a good note.” She continued. “There are two orders that… haven’t been canceled yet. If you can, I would like your help to finish them.”
“Okay.”
“I just—” Rarity let out a long sigh. “I just don’t want my career to end like this.”
I almost wanted to look away, to not have to see Rarity endure being made so powerless and ineffectual. To not have to live with the knowledge that this was only the beginning, that far more of her dignity would be stripped away before the end.
“Thank you, Fluttershy.”
The first order was for Cloud Burst, a country music singer. This one was thankfully easy, because the singer had sent Rarity a rough copy of the design, and Rarity had already finished a touched-up version of it. The design was a garish suit studded with rhinestone patterns everywhere, a stage costume hearkening back almost 80 years by that point. I found it more than a little kitsch, and while I never said so out loud, I think Rarity felt the same way.
The most difficult part was assembling the outfit. Rarity did most of the groundwork, but I convinced her to let me finish the detailing on my own. I was afraid that she would end up hurting herself with the sewing machine, or with the hot tools for caulking the glittery elements onto the suit. Rarity wanted to do it herself; I told her we’d use our time better if I did the hoof-work on Cloud Burst’s order while she tackled conceptual issues with the other order. After thinking about it a little, she agreed.
The second--and far more difficult--order was for Night Coda, a folk singer who’d just recently released her first album. It was for another stage costume, meant for the album release tour, but the trouble was that the singer and her publicist only left vague directions that the dress be elegant and simple. But because it was still a stage costume, Rarity knew it would not do to have it be too simple. Stage lighting could only go so far to put a performer in contrast with her surroundings. Beyond that, though, she had no idea where to start. The absolute carte blanche she was given was giving her trouble rather than helping her.
While I was putting the rhinestones on Cloud Burst’s suit, Rarity drew three preliminary designs, all of which she discarded. The frustration was starting to get to her; she even started to skip meals so she could do something about her artistic block. For a few days, I brought food to her while she worked, but when I noticed one afternoon that she didn’t even touch anything I made for breakfast and lunch, I had to put my hoof down.
“Rarity?”
“... Yes, dear? I’m rather busy at the moment.”
“Rarity.” I raised my voice.
Rarity finally turned towards me.
“Have you eaten anything since yesterday?” I pinned my eyes to hers.
“I… well…”
“Rarity.” I walk closer to her. “I know you want to give this your best effort. But you can’t do that by starving yourself. Especially not when you’re sick like this.”
Rarity cast her gaze downwards, closing her eyes.
“Truth be told, darling, I’ve not had much appetite lately.” She shook her head.
“I can understand that your condition and the frustration can make you feel that way, but not eating is only going to make things worse. As your caretaker, I’m asking you to have a bite at the very least. Please?”
Rarity glanced at the trays on her table. Taking a loaf of bread, she tore off a piece and put it into her mouth, chewing slowly.
“I’m also asking you to please take a break from drafting designs, so that I can take you outside and help you relax a little.”
Rarity looked like she wanted to object, but nodded in resignation.
The weather was already very chilly, so we had to bundle up for our walk. The first snow of the season had been scheduled to start some time in the evening, so the sky was overcast outside. We took the path on the edge of town, walking past Sweet Apple Acres towards Golden Harvest’s house. When we crested the hill, a strong gust of wind swept past us, making us stop and clutch our clothes closer to our bodies.
I sidled up to Rarity and extended a wing over her body to shield her. She smiled a little.
With both of us standing still, I took the chance to look around us. The leaves had all fallen, leaving bare branches whistling in the empty air. Our breaths steamed as we exhaled, before getting blown away.
“We’ve a long winter ahead of us.” Rarity spoke.
“... Mhm.”
Rarity furrowed her brows. She seemed to want to say something more, but didn’t. She just started walking forward again when the wind subsided a little, and I followed after her.
I think at that moment, we both had a feeling deep inside that she wouldn’t live to see spring. I’m glad she didn’t say anything, because I wasn’t ready to confront it just then.
On the other side of the emptied carrot patches, I saw our destination. When the land here was first cleared by Carrot Digger and Goldenrod, the farmers decided to leave a grove of maple trees standing. Nobody knows for sure why they did--Golden Harvest’s guess was that they wanted to build a cottage inside it, a place to relax under the shade away from the hustle and bustle of the rest of the family. Applejack told me instead that the two farmers, who’d been clearing land for six days straight and were exhausted, decided to stop their work for the week at the edge of the grove, and rested inside it on the seventh day. Both of them came to like how peaceful it was inside, and so they left the patch of trees standing and cleared around it, leaving a peninsula of forest jutting out into their farmland. I’ve even heard stories saying that the couple both saw a vision of Princess Celestia while resting there, or that there was an old, dying timberwolf there who fended off the couple’s efforts to chase him away and earned their respect. In any case, the grove was just a little ways off from Golden Harvest’s house, and was a little more sheltered from the wind than the cherry stand.
Rarity slowed her pace a little, moving to the edge of the path.
“Darling, I’m… I’m not feeling so well.”
“Oh dear. Are… are you feeling nauseous? Light-headed?”
“Yes. Let’s stop for a moment here.”
“Okay. If you want to go home, we can…”
“That’s all right. We’ve already come this far.”
Rarity sat herself down on the side of the road. I sat next to her, letting her rest her head on my shoulder. Rarity closed her eyes, taking slow and deep breaths.
The wind kept blowing, and the sky got a little darker. I leaned my head against Rarity’s, breathing in and out with her and covering her with my wing again. We stayed like this for a while.
Just then, I felt something cold land on my nose. Looking up, I noticed the flurries drifting down from the clouds. The season’s first snow had arrived a little ahead of schedule. Rarity must have noticed it, too; she drew up her scarf to cover her mouth and nose.
“All right. I think I’m feeling better now.”
Standing up, she walked back onto the center of the path, heading towards the maple trees. I was beside her every step of the way, afraid she’d have another attack of nausea. The flurries came down larger and faster as we went on, coating the ground with a layer of white.
We arrived at our destination in about ten minutes. We stayed near the edge of the trees, looking out into the snow-covered fields. I think the sun was starting to set just then, because it started getting darker much faster. We cleared a space on the ground and sat down on the mulch. Just like before, I extended a wing over Rarity’s body, though it was me who put my head on her shoulder this time.
“Would you like some hot cocoa?” I asked her as I withdrew the thermoses from inside my jacket.
“Oh! Very good of you to think ahead, dear. I would not mind.”
I sipped at my drink as the snow fell all around us, grateful for the extra warmth. Rarity looked rejuvenated as she nursed her mug, a faint smile on her face. The steam of our breaths and our open thermoses, plus the falling snow, gave everything a cozy, dreamy quality despite the cold. We exchanged a long, quiet look at each other as I let my mind wander, wishing for another spa date between the two of us.
And then, in the distance, I heard the flapping of bird wings, and turned my head in the direction of the sound. I noticed a solitary magpie flying towards us. He eased into a glide as he approached the treeline, and landed in front of me about six feet away.
“Hello. Um… do you need some help?” I greeted him.
The magpie didn’t answer. He just stared straight at me, cocking his head a little.
“If you’re cold or lost, I can give you a place to stay for a little while.”
The magpie cast a sidelong glance at Rarity before turning his head back at me, eyes blinking.
“Um…” I trailed off, not sure what the magpie wanted. We kept our eyes on each other like this for a while longer. I tried to remember whether I had ever seen him before, but I drew a blank.
The magpie turned towards Rarity for a moment, before taking off into the trees. I tried to see where he had flown off to, but it was already too dark to make out his silhouette in the tree branches.
Rarity drank the last of her hot cocoa, and snapped her mug closed.
“It isn’t the first time, is it?”
“Hmm?” I tilted my head at her. “Um… what do you mean?”
“These magpies are simply everywhere.”
“... Yes.”
My thoughts turned back to the dead magpie in the cherry stand. Without wanting to, I made the connection between him and Rarity, which sent an uncomfortable feeling into my stomach.
“Fluttershy?”
“Yes?”
“Do you… do you think they mean anything?”
“Um… I don’t understand.”
“As in, well… do you know that rhyme about magpies?”
“Um… one for sorrow, two for mirth?”
“Three for death, four for birth, yes.” Rarity nodded. “I just can’t help but wonder if all our encounters with them mean something more.”
“Well, there are lots of birds in this area. A lot of magpies, like you said. I, um. I think it’s just a coincidence…”
“I suppose I do have a way of overthinking about things.” Rarity turned towards the open field. A little ways away, the lights from Golden Harvest’s house formed warm golden squares against the falling snow. “Five for silver, six for gold…”
“Seven for a secret, never to be told.” I finished for her.
Rarity’s expression turned into a somber one.
“Do you believe in heaven, darling?” She asked out of the blue.
“I, um…” I was a little caught off guard. “I… I don’t know.”
“I suppose it’s a secret for all eternity.” Rarity conceded. “Whether there is an ever after after we die.”
“I… I guess so.”
“But don’t we all sincerely hope there is? A chance to set right what once went wrong, to correct all your mistakes and claim all your missed opportunities?”
To be able to do things differently than the first time.
If I could go back now and change the choices I made to get here, would I end up happier?
Or, would I make mistakes all the same, just different ones, because no one can know what the future holds?
Here, lying in this bed, I can only hope the first case is true. But I don’t even know if I will have that chance.
As it was then, I merely nodded at Rarity, because I didn’t know how to answer her.
“Eight for a wish, I suppose.” Rarity offered a thin smile.
I nod again, finishing the rest of my mug.
For a few moments, we were both quiet. I began to think Rarity had fallen into one of her unresponsive states when she suddenly declared,
“Loving Golden Fleece was the best and worst decision of my life.”
I stared at her, not sure how to respond. She looked back at me, meeting my eyes with a steady gaze. After a second, I looked away.
“Nine for a kiss…”
She turned my head with a hoof. Leaning in, she planted a chaste kiss on my forehead.
I blushed. Even though she probably would not have noticed it in the dark, I tried to hide it by pulling my scarf up and leaning into her shoulder.
“Thank you for everything, Fluttershy.”
When we got home, Rarity immediately went back to the drafting table. In the matter of an hour she made the first draft of what would become the final design for Night Coda’s dress. It was mostly black with a skirt that had a hem of maple leaf patterns. Following a rough diagonal line, cottony splotches of white reminiscent of snow flurries marked the boundary of solid white cloth stretching between the hem and the left side of the waist. From the chest and above, starry patterns dotted the black background, with a large eight-pointed star placed near the right shoulder.
With Cloud Burst’s order completed and delivered, we could both focus on this order. A revised version of the design was sent to Night Coda and her publicist, and the reception was very positive. All the materials we needed were already on hoof, so we got down to work the day we received their reply. Rarity and I split the work into two separate workstreams, and switched between them as we found it convenient. Everything was going according to schedule, which made Rarity happy.
Still, as we got closer to finishing the dress, I noticed her getting more and more dispirited. She lost a lot of her usual liveliness, and stopped practicing her martial arts altogether; she didn’t have the energy for it anymore.
Two days before the dress was complete, she started writing letters addressed to each one of the customers she lost in the past months, offering an explanation for her delays and her apologies. She wrote 18 letters like this, and on the day we shipped off Night Coda’s dress, she mailed those letters as well.
Once we got home, she collapsed on the couch.
“I’m so tired, Fluttershy.” Was all she could say.
Her condition started to deteriorate rapidly after that. Her muscle mass wasted away, and fluid accumulations bloated up her belly, leaving her with an appearance I’d only seen before in survivors of terrible famines. Her fugues became longer and longer, and chunks of her memory began to disappear. I accompanied her to all of her medical appointments, and the doctors made house visits whenever possible. Still, it was very difficult to care for her and run an animal clinic at the same time. Fortunately, Sweetie Belle came back to town and was able to help me as Rarity’s condition worsened. The others also visited when they could.
Rarity began to have trouble going to the bathroom. Her doctors put stents in her ureters, and put her on intravenous nutrition. To manage her bloating, they installed a drain in her belly. She never went anywhere without being fully clothed after that.
After consultation, she decided to have palliative surgery so she could eat food again, even if it would only be for a little while. She didn’t seem to care so much about the risks inherent to surgery, and Doctor Daffodil demurred, saying he would respect her decision to take measures to improve her quality of life as long as she was well informed of the risks. Rarity designated me to be her medical decision-maker in case anything went wrong, and gave Sweetie Belle power of attorney to put the rest of her affairs in order. She revised her will, and deposited a copy with the local notary.
The surgery took place at the end of January. Sweetie Belle and I walked with her all the way to the operating room, and on the way, Rarity was lucid and seemed to be in better spirits than before.
“You know, I hear Spike’s coming back to see you.” Sweetie Belle informed her.
“Well, all the more reason to get this work done.” Rarity smiled. “I wish to host all of you for a dinner party once he arrives. A hurrah for life.”
“Looking forward to that, sister.” Sweetie replied. “Heh, remember when he had that crush on you?”
Rarity giggled at the thought, rolling into full-blown laughter for a few seconds before coughs stopped her. If it weren’t for the fact she looked so sallow, I could almost have imagined she wasn’t sick at all.
“... I still have that ruby he gave me, you know.” She said after she recovered.
“I still have the love letters he sent me when we were dating for two years.”
Rarity grinned at that.
“You know, sometimes I wonder what would have been if Spike was older when we first met him, and I took his advances seriously.” She mused.
“He’d have made a great husband. Granted, he wasn’t the one for me.”
“I wonder if he still thinks of us in that way. Regardless, he’ll make someone very happy for the rest of her life one of these days.”
We reached the doors to the operating room.
“Well, dears, it seems you may no longer accompany me.” Rarity spoke as the orderlies kindly stopped her gurney for us. “Wish me luck.”
“You’ll be fine, sis.” Sweetie Belle reassured her, touching her forehoof with her own. I did the same with Rarity’s opposite forehoof, nodding in agreement.
“Thank you. See you soon, dears.”
After that, all we could do was wait.
Half an hour into the procedure, Spike arrived. He’d grown his wings and was almost the size of a brown bear. Everyone in the hallway gave him a wide berth as he clambered up to us, and I felt my heart beating faster from the sight of him. But when he touched his cheek to mine and clutched me close, I began to calm down.
“Hey, Fluttershy.” His voice had grown a lot huskier. “Sorry I couldn’t be here earlier.”
“It’s okay, Spike.” I whispered.
“Hey, Sweetie.” He hugged Sweetie Belle as well. “How’s it going?”
“I’m okay, you big lug. I do wish we were seeing each other in better circumstances, though.”
“Yeah…” Spike let us go, scratching his head. “How long has she been in there?”
“About thirty minutes now.” I told him.
“How long is this supposed to last?”
“About an hour or two more.”
He sat down on his tail next to our bench. “Okay. I’ll wait here with you guys, and we can catch up a little.”
We made small talk as we waited, as more of our friends and family arrived. Rainbow Dash was first, followed closely by Applejack, Apple Bloom, and Big Mac. Pinkie brought Cheese Sandwich, Trixie, and little Gooseberry along. Twilight arrived almost immediately after them.
Spike told us about his job. He said he was working for a bank now, guarding their vault and also doing accounting for them. We all told him about what we’d been doing, in turn. I filled him in about Rarity and how she had been since she came back.
“What about that Golden Fleece guy? Is she still married to him?”
“I… I don’t know. She never told us anything about him since she came back, and I never asked…”
“Did he divorce her or something? Because if that's the case, he doesn’t know what he missed out on.”
“If he did, I’ve half a mind to beat the tar out of him.” Applejack interjected. “It’s ‘cause of him that me and Rarity done had that argument to begin with. The least he could’ve done is stick around for somebody who stood up for him.”
“You mean that argument Twilight told me about, before Rarity left town?” Spike asked.
“Yeah, not our proudest moment.” Rainbow commented. “Good thing that’s all behind us now.”
We kept chatting, and waiting.
At the two-hour mark, the attending surgeon came out of the operating room. We all gathered around him to hear his news.
“The procedure itself went without a hitch.” He informed us. “Ms. Rarity hasn’t yet woken up from general anesthesia, but that should wear off in a few hours.”
The nurses wheeled her gurney out of the room. We cleared the way, letting them turn aside. The surgeon walked after them, beckoning us to follow.
“We’ll be taking her to the ward for observation.” He continued. “But I’m afraid we can’t accommodate this many visitors at once for extended periods in the ward. There is a visitor’s center on the premises, so please feel free to use those facilities.”
“Thank you.” Sweetie Belle said.
“Any urgent questions or concerns?”
I shake my head.
“Okay. If you have any questions later, you can direct them to the attending physician in the ward. They have been apprised of Ms. Rarity’s condition.”
He turned around, going back the way he came.
The post-op wardroom had three beds. The one on the right was empty, and the one in the center was occupied by a unicorn stallion covered in bandages from head to chest. The nurses placed Rarity in the bed on the left, and left us alone.
As the surgeon had said, there was very little room for visitors. Spike in particular seemed to be having trouble settling into a comfortable space, and there weren’t enough places for us to sit. Rainbow was adamant that she would stay until Rarity woke up. Sweetie Belle likewise expressed her desire to stay. At that point, I decided I had to stay, too, because I would have to take responsibility for deciding what to do if Rarity needed further treatment before waking. With only one chair left, the rest of us decided to have one more pony stay until Rarity woke, at which point he or she would go tell the others. Apple Bloom volunteered, and the four of us settled down.
After the first hour, Pinkie, Cheese, and Trixie all had to leave because of little Gooseberry. Big Mac returned to the farm to attend to the rest of the day’s work, and Twilight had to excuse herself as well, leaving six of us behind. Spike sat himself down in the hallway outside the ward, and Applejack came with him, checking inside the ward every once in a while.
One hour became two, then three. Nobody said anything about it, but we were all starting to get worried. The nurse making the rounds must have noticed it, too, because the doctor on attendance came to us. Spike and Applejack both followed her inside.
“Is this supposed to be happening? She still isn’t awake yet.” Sweetie Belle asked.
“The anesthesia process can sometimes induce this kind of condition, and given Ms. Rarity’s physical state, the likelihood of such a thing happening is higher.” The doctor replied. “Her vitals have held steady since the operation concluded, so I don’t think we’ve had any major complications.”
“How long will she be asleep?” Spike inquired.
“I’d like to give you a concrete answer, but I don’t know. It might be soon, or it might be a few more hours. At this point, I can’t really be sure.”
“Oh.” Spike shrunk down. A glum mood settled on the rest of us.
“For now, we should wait until morning to see what happens. She’ll likely be awake by then, and if she’s not, we can start exploring other options.”
Rarity never woke back up.
We waited and waited next to her bed, like how Rainbow Dash is keeping vigil next to mine right now. But she never came back to.
She lingered on for a few more weeks, before succumbing to organ failure.
It’s 11 at night, and I can’t sleep.
Rainbow Dash is curled up at the foot of the bed, her head resting on a pillow laid on top of Tank. The blinds are half-open, and moonlight pours down onto my lap through the window. Outside, above the rooftops, the stars twinkle in the clear night sky, like they always do.
My time is short, and everyone knows that. But thinking about Rarity brings back all the uncertainties I never quite answered for myself about death, and what lies beyond. I’m kept awake because I want answers, even though I know I shouldn’t be expecting to find any.
I don’t want to live forever, but I am afraid to die.
I don’t want to sleep, because I’m afraid I could slip away any time.
I’m not afraid of death. Death can be a kindness. Death was kind to Rarity when he took her, relieved her from the suffering of her disease. Without death, Rarity would still be wasting away, lingering on in pain. He was kind to Aunt Peony, taking away the pain of her aching bones and the loss of her children. Death hurt me when he took Aunt Peony, my parents, Rarity… but he will be kind when he relieves me of those pains.
But what comes after death?
Will there be an ever after, where we can find the happiness we couldn’t find in life?
Will we be born in another time and place, given another opportunity to make things right, to begin again with a clean slate?
Will there be nothing?
I do not know, and I do not know anything or anyone who might help me with that kind of knowledge. But I still want to know before I die, and because I do not know, I am afraid.
I know I’m not the bravest of ponies. I’m convinced that if Rainbow Dash died and found that what came after was not to her liking, she would make her own ever after as she wanted it to be, no matter how long it took and no matter the effort she would have to put in. I didn’t even have the courage to tell Rarity about how I felt before it was too late.