Best Friends Forever: Between Life and Machine

by DemonBrightSpirit

Despair

Inside the Carousel Boutique, not a single mannequin stood intact. Pieces of them were strewn about the show floor, accompanied by countless discarded scraps of cloth and frayed and torn remnants of dresses and accessories. Needles, threads, even entire bolts of cloth suffered the same fate. They suffered Rarity’s vengeful wrath.

Mere minutes ago, they were easy to blame. If it weren’t for the fashion show in Canterlot, featuring her, among others, as a great fashion innovator, then she wouldn’t have been so busy, so distracted, as to let Sweetie Belle go off to her doom. But after ripping apart, throwing, and smashing everything in the parlor, she ran out of inanimate objects to blame. That only left the true culprit, herself.

Had she just paid more attention to Sweetie, this would have never happened. She never did. There was always another show, another important client. They always took precedent. As if they were actually more important than her little sister.

The familiar chime of the entry bell offered Rarity the hope of having something other than herself to hate. As she spun around, her hopes were dashed as she found a familiar face. “O-oh, Twilight,” Rarity croaked, her voice weak and raw. Instead of going over to meet her, Rarity just turned back around to stare at the empty work table before her.

“Rarity, did something happen here?” Twilight asked, carefully stepping around the mess. When Rarity didn't respond, Twilight let it pass, turning instead to a different point of conversation. “I went to the hospital, but they said that visiting hours were over. So I thought that I might find you here.”

Rarity still didn't respond.

“I—the nurse talked like Sweetie Belle was… did something happen?” Twilight asked.

“S-she got out of surgery a while ago, but…” Rarity’s words trailed off into a foreboding silence.

“But what?” Twilight extended a wing, draping it over Rarity. “What happened?”

Rarity pulled Twilight in, burying her face in Twilight’s shoulder. “They said she was hanging by a thread, and if she didn’t start to improve soon, then… they said she wouldn’t survive the week!”

Twilight wrapped her forelegs around Rarity. “I’m so sorry, Rarity. Is there anything I can—”

“Save her!” Rarity shouted. “Isn’t there some magic that can help her?”

Biting her lip, Twilight considered it a moment before shaking her head. “No. Whatever magic exists that can help, I’m sure the doctors are already using it.”

Rarity shoved Twilight away, breaking the embrace. “It’s not enough! There must be something you can do; you’re a princess!”

“This is hard for me, too,” Twilight replied, her voice calm and unwavering even as tears gathered in her eyes. “If there was something more I could do, don’t you think that I would’ve already done it?”

“If you can’t save her, then—then go back in time and stop this from ever happening! Please, Twilight.”

Twilight’s ears folded down, and she gave her head a sluggish shake. “I can’t. After everything that happened with Starlight—”

Slamming her hoof against the polished floor, Rarity cut Twilight off. A fierce storm raging in Rarity’s eyes caught Twilight off guard. “You can’t, or you won’t?”

At first, Twilight’s eyes danced away from Rarity’s accusatory glare. Then, she found her resolve. Ears perking, she locked eyes with Rarity. “I won’t.”

Even before she had asked the question, Rarity knew the answer. That didn’t make the words any easier to bear. Teeth gritting, Rarity lifted a hoof toward the door. “Get. Out.” Her tone left no room for forgiveness, let alone arguments.

Twilight didn’t wither. Her head held high, she curtly turned and started for the door. Halfway there, she paused, looking back over her shoulder to see Rarity still watching, her eyes burning with anger and drowning in unshed tears. “I just stopped by to let you know that the roc that attacked Sweetie Belle has been taken care of.”

Breathing out a sigh, Rarity finally looked away. “Is it dead?”

“No,” Twilight replied. After a moment without a response from Rarity, Twilight again started for the door. The crippling silence gave way as Twilight reached for the door. It was soft and subdued, but Rarity’s quiet sobs reached Twilight’s ears. Biting her lip, she opened the door, but try as she might, she couldn’t bring herself to just leave. “I-I really do hope Sweetie Belle pulls through.”

“Leave!” An already-maimed mannequin smashed into the wall next the door to punctuate Rarity’s shout.

---

Sleepless nights were nothing new to Rarity. Sometimes she would need to work through the night to make her orders in time. Other times, worry and anxiousness over an event would have her too wound up to sleep. However, this time, the anxiety drove her, not only to another sleepless night but to the brink of her sanity.

The quiet hours in the dark left her to drown in her regret. The silence only served to amplify the punishing thoughts in her head. Thoughts of the damned bird that hurt Sweetie, only to be spared. Thoughts of the magically inclined princess and her refusal to save Sweetie. Thoughts of the sister who failed in her inherent duty to keep a little filly safe.

That night, Rarity met hate. Sure, there existed a great many things she disliked, even loathed, but never before had she experienced the visceral anger, and disgust, and repulsion of unbridled hatred. She hated the bird that threatened Sweetie’s very life. She hated that pony so indifferent that she would stand idly by and let Sweetie suffer. Most of all, she hated the pony that made so, so many mistakes. So many times she wasn't there. So many times she had more important things to do. So very many times.

Rarity truly felt hate, and it wasn’t a vicious bird or an aloof friend that bore that hatred. It was herself.

The dawn banished the worst of Rarity’s thoughts with the hopes of something, anything, other than sitting alone in the dark with her thoughts. That hope alone dragged her from her bed sheets. Unfortunately, visiting hours didn’t start with the sun, so Rarity needed to find a way to pass a couple of hours without losing her mind. Fortunately, she just so happened to have a parlor that was completely destroyed. Two hours wouldn’t be enough to even get half of that cleaned up.

And it wasn’t.

All in all, it took Rarity nearly six hours to get everything cleaned up, repaired, and dusted to a sparkling shine. She just needed to finish the task was the lie she kept telling herself. The bitter truth was that she didn’t want to go. She didn’t want to hear again that Sweetie was dying. And she certainly didn’t want to look into her parents’ eyes and beg their forgiveness for failing them; for failing Sweetie.

But as the blazing sun drew high in the sky, Rarity found herself bereft of excuses to stay. She even teased the idea of opening the boutique in hopes of distracting herself with a few customers, but then realized it was that very act that threatened Sweetie’s life. The thought left a taste in her mouth more bitter than bile.

Just as she thought to resign herself to her fate, the entry bell chimed, heralding a visitor. She had half a mind to welcome her visitor and the distraction they brought while the other half jumped at the opportunity to take her frustrations out on whatever pony dared to disturb her. That latter half evaporated as Rarity re-entered her parlor to find a yellow Pegasus standing in the doorway.

“Fluttershy,” Rarity croaked, her voice tired and strained.

“Rarity, I was worried about you,” Fluttershy replied, a strained smile on her lips. “Are you okay?”

Clearing her throat, Rarity replied with a simple “no.”

“I went to the hospital. I could hardly believe that you weren’t there with Sweetie Belle,” Fluttershy said, trotting over. Reaching out a wing, she draped it over Rarity’s shoulders. “Why are you still here?”

At first, Rarity started to pull away, but the urge to push Fluttershy away was overshadowed by the trifling comfort the warm wing offered. She settled on a happy medium, keeping a healthy gap between her shoulder and Fluttershy’s. “I… I want to be there for Sweetie Belle. I really do,” Rarity confessed, her eyes finding the floor between her hooves inexplicably entrancing.

Fluttershy allowed a moment of silence pass before coaxing Rarity on. “But…”

“B-but I can’t.” Rarity shook her head, tears spilling anew. Ragged breaths grew into restrained sobs. “I can’t see her like that, and I… I know what they’ll tell me. I can’t hear that news, Fluttershy. I can’t.”

Fluttershy took a deep breath in before letting it out through her nose. “Sweetie Belle is dying. She doesn’t have much time left.”

Recoiling away from Fluttershy, Rarity looked up at her, mouth agape, as fresh, hot tears ran down her cheeks. Her first instinct was to accuse Fluttershy of lying. To beg her that such a thing couldn’t be true. But there was a reason she didn’t dare go to the hospital. Deep in her heart, a dark whisper tore at her. Overnight it had grown into a cacophonous symphony—mocking her failure as a sister—of the bitter truth.

Fluttershy wouldn’t lie. More importantly, she wasn’t lying.

“Why?” Rarity breathed out in little more than a whisper. Squeezing her eyes shut to purge her regretful tears, she shouted, “Why would you tell me that!” Her legs gave out from beneath her, and she surrendered to the insurmountable pain in her chest, descending into wails.

Fluttershy joined Rarity on the floor, again blanketing the Unicorn with a warm, delicate wing. “Sweetie Belle needs you. And you need to be there for her,” she softly spoke. “If those words were what kept you away… you needed to hear them so you can go there and be by her side.”

Shuddering and convulsing, Rarity wept as she buried her face in Fluttershy’s shoulder. The angry, sorrowful wails kept her from articulating any real words. She wanted to yell at Fluttershy, take out her frustration and despair on the Pegasus, for shattering the delusion that somehow, some way, Sweetie Belle might come out of this all right and everything would turn out okay.

Without that comforting, if imaginary, scenario ripped away from her, the only thing left to Rarity was the repugnant truth. Sweetie Belle would leave her forever. And the only one to blame was herself.

“I-I can’t!” Rarity managed to choke out as she clung to Fluttershy.

Fluttershy rubbed Rarity’s back with a gentle, soothing hoof. “I know that you’re afraid, but you not being there won’t stop her from… from leaving us. If you don’t go and say your goodbyes, you may never get the chance.”

“I can’t!” Rarity wailed, shaking her head. “I can’t…”

“Rarity, you need to go be with her. You’ll never forgive yourself if you’re not there when she needs you by her side the most,” Fluttershy replied, never pausing in her ministrations.

With a burst of fury, Rarity shoved Fluttershy away and found herself of steady hooves. “No!” she yelled at Fluttershy, hot tears streaming down her face. “Don’t you get it? This is my fault! I’m the one that let her go there and get hurt!”

Fluttershy bore Rarity’s anger, standing there with ears pinned back. Once Rarity had finished lashing out, Fluttershy stepped forward and swiped the wetness from Rarity’s cheeks. Calmly, she replied, “Then don’t you need to go and tell her that you’re sorry?”

A whine escaped Rarity’s lips. “Yes!” Finally relenting the last of her hesitation, she threw her forelegs around Fluttershy, clinging to her for dear life as she broke down again into a fit of sobs. Only this time, her incoherent mutterings were laced with apologies.

---

“Go on,” Fluttershy urged, pressing a wing to Rarity’s flank to coax her toward the hospital’s front door.

Rarity stumbled forward before turning to look back at Fluttershy with bleary eyes. “Yes, I… thank you, Fluttershy.”

Offering a small, sad smile, Fluttershy nodded back at Rarity. “Of course. Now, you need to go and be there for her.”

Nodding in turn, Rarity steeled her frayed nerves and stepped forward, into the hospital. The warm light of day left for the harsh, artificial light of the hospital just as the scent of antiseptic assailed Rarity’s nose. Even the cold, sterile tile beneath her hooves seemed to scream in unison for her to turn and leave. She wasn’t welcome here.

The only things pushing Rarity forward were her conscience and the kind Pegasus waiting just outside. Those two seemed almost nothing compared to the fear and doubt welling up in her chest and haunting her mind. She feared for Sweetie Belle’s fate, but she also found herself consumed about facing her parents.

They’d spent hours upon hours together in a tiny room yesterday, and they’d barely spoken to her at all. It didn’t take a genius to figure out why: they blamed her for what happened to Sweetie Belle, as well they should have. It was her fault, after all. But all this time the tension had been building up and still nothing. Was this their condemnation? Had they written her off completely? It would be hard to blame them. How could they forgive anypony, even their own daughter, for something like this?

Right now Sweetie Belle was in that room, in that bed, with wires and tubes tethering her to life. And even those wouldn’t save her. Death drew near for the filly, and the only one to blame was herself. Her parents would resent her for it. Who wouldn’t?

Before she knew it, her hooves had brought her to Sweetie’s room. By some miracle, the door remained closed, hiding behind it both her sister’s fate and her parents’ rancor. Everything that Rarity feared only contained from her by a single door. Her stomach churned and protested as her eyes fell on the handle. Could she really remove that shroud? The last barrier between her and the repugnant truth she so desperately hoped to be a lie?

Her hoof rose from the ground, but after only a few inches, shot right back down. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath in. And out. Opening her eyes again, she took the latch in her aura but made no move to turn it. After just standing there for several long moments, she dispelled her magic as she looked away.

It was no use. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t cast off that last mote of hope that this nightmare wasn’t real.

“Well now, if it isn’t the pretty mare from yesterday? How did the surgery go?”

Rarity looked up at the familiar voice to find that black stallion from yesterday. Short Circuit. He still wore the same green gown, though this time, he also dragged along a rack with an IV bag dangling from it. It bore a clear fluid that ran down a tube and into the stallion’s foreleg.

“That bad, huh?” Short Circuit said as soon as he got a good look at Rarity. “She had to have at least made it. Why would you be here staring at a door otherwise?”

“She… she doesn’t have much time left,” Rarity croaked, her voice strangled by a sudden absence of air. She admitted it. For the first time, she confessed to that unbearable truth. The reality of the situation crashed down on her. Silent tears streamed down her face.

A hoof gently pressed into Rarity’s shoulder. “It hurts. I know.”

Sniffling in a most unladylike manner, Rarity swiped at her tears. “I can’t. I can’t go in there and—and see her with all those tubes and wires… I can’t.”

“Come on, isn’t seeing her, no matter her condition, better than standing here agonizing about it?” Short Circuit replied, his voice soft and understanding. “Take some advice from an old stallion that knows a thing or two about this sort of thing: you’ll regret every second you didn’t spend with her.” Without bothering to let Rarity reply, his horn flared with a yellow aura, and the door opened wide.

Rarity stood statue-still as her eyes met her parents’. Any hope she had to flee from the situation vanished in that very instant. She would have stood there, frozen, forever if not for an unwelcome nudge on her flank. The next thing she knew, Rarity found herself stumbling into Sweetie’s hospital room. Prying her eyes away from her parents, her vision swept by Sweetie’s bed and landed on the object of her ire. No words came, but her irate glare spoke volumes.

Circuit just smiled in turn. “You can thank me later.”

A few hoofsteps drew their attention to Rarity’s father. “R-Rarity, we, uh, we were starting to worry you might not come.” Behind him, Cookie’s gaze fell away to the side.

“Father… mother,” Rarity greeted in turn, her tone meek as she pawed at the ground. “I just… had a bit of trouble finding the courage.”

Hondo raised a hoof, thrusting it in Circuit’s direction. “I take it this fella helped you to find it?”

“Nah,” Circuit replied. “I’m just a kindred spirit here to do what I can.”

“Kindred spirit?” Rarity’s mother said, finally speaking up.

Rarity found herself feeling absurdly abashed. Here she had been so worried about her parents, but they were acting as normal as anypony could expect. No, the real demon haunting her mind was right next to her. Sweetie Belle looked worse than the night before. Before, she held a serene expression behind the mask of tubes giving her breath. Now, she bore a grimace and pallor that could only bear a terrible suffering. A suffering that was Rarity’s fault.

An apology. That is what Rarity had come to offer Sweetie Belle. And she’d be damned if she allowed tightness in her throat or weakness in her knees would stop her. Swallowing her fears and steeling her eyes, Rarity stepped over to Sweetie’s bedside. Raising a shaking foreleg, Rarity lovingly traced a hoof through Sweetie’s mane. The tangled hairs were slick with grease and sweat, and the radiating heat of fever stung Rarity’s hoof.

Trembling, Rarity’s chin lowered. Her breath carried but two words. Two words that burst the dam holding back all of Rarity’s guilt and sorrow. “I’m sorry.” The words reverberated through her mind as a thousand regrets tore free. So many times had Sweetie botched her efforts to endear herself to Rarity, only to have her earnest attempts met with scorn and derision. So many times had Sweetie hinted, asked, even begged for just a bit of attention, only to be swept aside.

“I’ll just make it up to her,” Rarity always told herself. Later. Tomorrow. Next time.

Now, next time would never come. For Sweetie, even tomorrow might not come. Worse, her anguished apologies couldn’t reach Sweetie Belle’s ears. Sweetie couldn’t hear Rarity’s begging for forgiveness. She couldn’t feel her anguish. She would never know her regret. And it was all Rarity’s fault.

No longer could Rarity hold back the tears or tame the squeezing in her throat. She buried her face in the sheets by Sweetie’s face, too afraid to actually take hold of the frail filly, lest she cause Sweetie any more pain. The empty apologies continued, only to descend into incomprehensible sobs.

The anguished wails finally drew Short Circuit away from Rarity’s parents. The duo warmed to him quite quickly once they had learned he had gone through something similar. From him, they hoped to learn about their own future and the nature of the pain of loss. They wanted to hear that the pain will go away and that things eventually go back to normal. They wanted lies.

Turning around, Short Circuit moved to comfort Rarity. He rounded Sweetie’s bed, though seeing Sweetie at all beneath the sheets and tubes proved difficult. Stepping over by Rarity, he put a hoof on her shoulder. She didn’t recoil, but neither did she throw herself into his forelegs. “I’d take your grief if I could.”

At first, he thought it was just a flashback. A trick of the light. For a moment, Circuit saw his daughter, lying motionless in a hospital bed as the infection ravaged her body. Blinking did little to dissuade the haunting memories. No, it wasn’t a trick of the light. The little filly in the bed was little short of his daughter’s doppelganger. The mane was a little different, but she looked just like her.

Unable to stand it for even another second, Circuit found himself stumbling toward the door. It was only then that he realized that there were shouts, though they sounded little more than murmurs behind the mounting cacophony of his heart and lungs. He made it to the door, and another two or three steps, but that was all his failing body could manage. Leaning against the wall, he slid down until he found himself sitting on the floor. Distance did little to stem the torrent of memories, plunging him into a chasm of black despair.

---

Hours passed, and Rarity found herself sitting outside Sweetie’s room. Her tears and anger had exhausted her emotions, and so she sat, lamenting her quiet despair. Even the din of a dozen hoofsteps did not stir her, at least not until she heard a familiar voice. “Oh! There she is!” An energetic, shrill voice boomed. Though the voice quickly tempered into a more morose tone. “...and she doesn’t look so good.”

Rarity looked up as all of her friends approached. All but one. Conspicuously absent was one pony princess, and Rarity found that to be perfectly fine.

A tense silence began to dominate as even Pinkie Pie struggled to find words. Finally, it was Applejack who cleared her throat and banished the silence. “Hey, sugarcube. Uh, Fluttershy done told us what all’s goin’ on. We reckoned yah could do with some support about now.”

“We would’ve been here sooner, but we also thought you might need some alone time, too,” Pinkie added, doing well to stifle her usual enthusiasm. “You didn’t need more alone time, did you?”

Rarity shook her head but made no effort to speak. Even just looking up at her friends was nearly impossible. Instead of feeling her friends’ support, all she felt was shame. Here they were, proffering solace to the mare responsible for the tragedy in the first place.

“Um, maybe she needs a bit of space,” Fluttershy said. She pressed a wing to Pinkie’s flank, guiding her into Sweetie’s room.

Even with half the crowd gone, Rarity still just sat there, the weight of her guilt pulling her gaze to the floor.

Removing her hat and holding down at her chest, Applejack did her best to break silence’s reign, “I’m right sorry about what happened to Sweetie. We all are.”

“Not as sorry as me!” Rainbow choked out, her voice wavering in her throat. Swiping at her wet eyes, Dash did all she could to stifle her sobs. “When Scootaloo ran up to me freaking out, I couldn’t figure out what was going on. If I’d understood a little quicker, if I’d flown a little faster, then maybe… I’m so sorry. I-it’s my fault.”

Rarity replied in little more than a whisper, her voice hoarse and raw, “No. It’s my fault. I should never have let her go.”

“Hey, you ain’t the only one kickin’ yourself about lettin’ those fillies up on that mountain,” Applejack said, a stern resentment in her voice. Adjusting the hat atop her head, she glanced over at Dash. “I’m sure Rainbow’s just as torn up about it.”

A bit of Rarity’s self-loathing melted into anger. For the first time in what seemed like a long time, she had something tangible to blame other than herself. But, for her emotion-stricken state and a whole lot of blame still on her shoulders, she didn’t lash out. She just felt a little less disgusted with herself, that maybe she wasn’t the worst sister in Equestria after all.

“I-I can’t take this!” Dash blurted out. With a flap of her wings, she flew off the ground and started down the hall.

Applejack gave chase, catching her as she tried to open a window. “What the hay’s gotten into you?” Applejack said in a hushed shout, pulling Dash back to the floor. “We’re supposed to be here to support Rarity.” A small sigh exited her nose as she added, “Pay our respects.”

“I can’t,” Dash cried, shaking her head. “I can’t… I failed everyone.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Applejack said as she drew a foreleg across the Pegasus’s shoulders. “It… it was probably too late by the time Scootaloo got word to you, and you can’t go and blame the fillies, either.”

Dash pushed Applejack away. “Scootaloo blames herself. And she hates me!”

“What’re you talkin’ about? That filly adores you,” Applejack replied.

“I always told her that it was okay that she couldn’t fly.” Dash said, her voice trembling. “I convinced her it didn’t matter… it mattered.” An angry flick of her tail, and Rainbow continued, “She wanted me to work with her more on her flying. If-if I’d made the time then maybe—”

“Nonsense,” Rarity finally spoke up again. Though still weak with fatigue, her voice remained steady. “She can’t even get herself off the ground. Nothing could’ve helped her catch Sweetie. It’s not her fault.” Rarity’s eyes drifted to the floor and her ears drooped as she drew a ragged breath. “She’s not the one to blame.”

Applejack placed a hoof on Rarity’s shoulder, though she didn’t even seem to register the contact. “You ain’t the one to blame, either, Sugarcube.”

Shrugging off the hoof, Rarity glared up at Applejack. “Lying doesn’t suit you.”

Applejack didn’t wither. “It’s the truth, even if you don’t wanna hear it. Now I don’t know what’s goin’ on in that pretty little head of yours, but you can’t keep on beatin’ yourself up like this.”

“But I—”

“You what?” Applejack snapped at Rarity. “You let her go up on that mountain? Don’t you know Dash and I made that same decision? They’re always goin’ off and gettin’ into trouble. There’s no way any of us could’ve known that… that it would’ve ended up like this.”

“I failed her,” Rarity said. “You and Dash didn’t fail Apple Bloom or Scootaloo. They’re both home safe. But Sweetie… she’s…”

“Rarity!” Pinkie exclaimed as she stuck her head out of Sweetie’s room. A quick glance down the hall, and she took off toward her ailing friend, sliding just a bit at the start on the smooth tile. Pinkie all but tackled Rarity as she wrapped her up in a hug. “Why didn’t you tell us? I’m so sorry!”

“Oh my goodness,” Fluttershy muttered as she flew after Pinkie at a much more restrained pace. “We just heard the news.”

Though Rarity barely made a move in Pinkie’s iron grip, both Dash’s and Applejack’s eyes widened. “Y-y-you don’t mean…” Dash squeaked out.

“Oh, no,” Fluttershy said as she landed by her friends. “Not that.” Sighing a dainty sigh, her ears drooped. “Not yet, anyway.”

Applejack found her breath, “Just what do yah mean, ‘not yet?’”

“If I don’t do something. Find some way,” Rarity said as Pinkie finally let go and stepped back. “Sweetie will die by tomorrow morning.”

“You can’t possibly know that,” Applejack said, holding up a hoof. “Maybe the doctors might—” Her words ceased as Fluttershy pressed a hoof into Applejack’s side. A shake of Fluttershy’s head urged Applejack to listen.

“The only thing keeping her alive right now are those machines,” Rarity said, her voice trembling. “Mother and father are taking her off of them first thing in the morning.”

“Oh, Rare,” Applejack said, pulling the brim of her hat low over her face. “Why didn’t yah say anything?”

Rarity’s hind legs buckled as she sat, hanging her head. She spoke, her voice raspy, “What am I to do?” It took all she had to resist the weakness her knees, begging to throw herself on the floor to wallow in her sorrow. “I argued with mother and father for who-knows-how-long to give it more time, and even the doctor said that… that she might not even make it to tomorrow morning.”

Swooping in, Fluttershy draped a wing over Rarity’s shoulders as the Unicorn swayed, threatening to collapse. Applejack, Pinkie Pie, and Dash swooped in as well, offering their support to keep Rarity upright and stymy her burgeoning tears. “Is there anything at all that we can do?” Fluttershy asked, her voice soft and steady.

Eyes closing, Rarity leaned into the collective embrace. “I’ve just… I’ve been sitting here trying to think of how I could save her,” she replied. “How I could’ve prevented it.” Breathing a ragged breath, she continued, “I just… I want her to be okay. It’s impossible, I know, but I’d give anything for her to be okay. Please, just… just tell me that there is still some way to save her. Tell me it’s a nightmare and I’ll wake up soon. Tell me I’ve gone completely mad and none of this is real. Please…”

The group sent glances to each other, pleading silently for the words to say. As the lingering silence grew painful, Applejack finally spoke, “You’re askin’ us to lie to yah, and we just can’t do that.”

“It’s too late, Rarity,” Fluttershy said. “I don’t think anypony can save Sweetie Belle now.”

“Twilight could!” Rarity barked.

Pinkie patted Rarity’s back. “Hey, I’m sure if Twilight had some super-magic spell that would save Sweetie, she totally would’ve used it by now.” Rarity’s head snapped up and she sent Pinkie a cold glare. Pinkie withered, weakly continuing, “You know… probably, maybe.”

“Um, excuse me,” a new voice sounded, urging the cluster of ponies to separate from their embrace. There, stood a nurse wearing a cautious smile. “Visiting hours will be over soon. I’ll have to ask you to finish up your visits here.”

As the nurse stepped away, all eyes fell on Rarity. Though she refused to budge from her seat on the floor, she still wilted under the collective stare. “I-I don’t… I don’t know if I can,” she said, her gaze flitting to the door to Sweetie’s room.

“You gotta,” Rainbow said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Up you go,” Applejack said, nudging Rarity’s flank with her snout. Although Rarity rose, she didn’t move a single step toward Sweetie’s room.

Fluttershy spread a wing over Rarity’s shoulders, pushing her forward. “You’ll regret it if you don’t spend every second you have left with her, and you know it.”

Rarity said nothing, though her hooves finally trudged forward, bringing her closer to the door. After reaching the door, she paused to look back. All of her friends stood there looking back at her, though not one smile of reassurance could be found. Instead, they all wore sullen, uncertain expressions that surely mirrored her own. “Th-thank you,” she finally said before turning the knob with her magic and disappearing into Sweetie’s room.

“What… what do we do now?” Pinkie said just after the door closed behind Rarity.

“She’s going to need a lot of support,” Fluttershy said, “but do you think she wants space right now?”

Applejack sighed. “All I know right now is that I told Apple Bloom I’d bring her by tomorrow to visit. I ain’t got a clue how I’m supposed to break the news to her.”

“Scootaloo’s never gonna forgive herself now,” Dash muttered.

“Is-is there really nothing we can do?” Pinkie asked, standing up and moving to the center of the group. “I mean, we’ve done tons of amazing things. Isn’t there some way we could save her?” Applejack and Fluttershy looked away, their gazes low. “Anypony?”

Grunting, Rainbow Dash launched herself off the floor and zipped out the window without a word.

“Anypony?”

Comments

[Bronycommander]

Poor Rarity and Sweetie Belle. I know that feeling all too well. I had a cat once who was like a brother too me, had her to put to sleep, I was crying without end. Losing someone close is never easy.

[Julian the Dreamer]

Time travel is dangerous, and Twilight is doing the right thing, even if it's incredibly hard to do so.

[Texus]

At first, Twilight’s eyes danced away from Rarity’s accusatory glare. Then, she found her resolve. Ears perking, she locked eyes with Rarity. “I won’t.”

In theory it could, but I don'T think saving Sweetie will destroy the world.

Turning around, Short Circuit moved to comfort Rarity.

I hope he is an friend here, I somehow don't want this to be a shipping in this situation.

I kind of only want to find out if we get robo sweetiebelle which is why I'm kind of speeding trough this story right now, no matter how bad that decision might be.

[JazzyWaffles]

Holy sh** the reactions from everypony so far are SPOT-ON. Brilliant writing.