Calm and Storm

by Fiddlesticks

Lambert

It was raining in Mareseille, but Rainbow couldn’t remember how she had gotten here.

From behind the massive glass window, she watched as a flash of lightning tore up the air and the skies dumped gallons and gallons of water onto the airfield. With an angry whinny, she scuffed her hoof against the ugly carpet, feeling a bit of electricity zapping her.

She almost felt it.

How had she gotten here?

Outside, massive ariships lounged, idle and waiting for the storm to clear.

Hadn’t she just arrived on one the day before?

Rainbow dragged a hoof down her face, feeling worse and worse with every second that passed her by.

She huffed in annoyance, trying to pry any information loose from her brain.

What time even was it? Seven? No, Rainbow realized. It’s seven in Saddle Arabia. That’d make it… ten in Prance?

She looked away from the window, scanning the idle terminal. Her gate was still mostly empty, lit up by the warm and welcoming glow of shops that lined the walls.

“Hey.”

Rainbow’s ear twitched as a soft voice called out from her right. “Oh. Hey Fleetfoot,” she answered monotonously.

Fleetfoot passed her a styrofoam cup, sleeved in a cardboard heat protector. Rainbow took it in her hoof and stared at it, forgetting for a second what she was meant to do with it.

“How are you holding up?” Fleetfoot asked.

Rainbow shrugged. “Fleet, have we been here before?”

Fleetfoot nodded. “We just flew in yesterday, Rainbow. From Saddle Arabia, for the next part of our tour.”

“Our tour.” The Wonderbolts were on tour. Rainbow remembered now. She was just talking with Spitfire at the stadium, as they examined the venue and began practicing the routine.

But had it really only been yesterday?

Why did it feel like an eternity ago?

“Here, sit,” Fleetfoot instructed, gently guiding her over to a row of uncomfortable plastic chairs.

Rainbow obeyed, trying to mask her internal frustrations.

It seemed like for every two steps she took, every two questions she answered, another one would unveil itself like a discount street magician.

Why was Fleetfoot being gentle with her?

Fleetfoot had a softer side, sure, but it almost never came out during tours. Fleetfoot was savvy and sassy, witty and sarcastic. She didn’t buy Rainbow coffee, or help her sit down.

Where were the rest of the Wonderbolts?

Why was Rainbow feeling so numb?

And why did it feel like she knew these answers already?

Rainbow trembled slightly, but it was enough for Fleetfoot to notice. She put a hoof on her back and started rubbing circles into it. Rainbow felt herself relax, squeezing her eyes shut and drawing a deep breath.

She had just arrived with the Wonderbolts. Now she was leaving, but only with Fleetfoot.

Why?

“Here, drink,” Fleetfoot offered. Rainbow obeyed, feeling the scalding liquid trickling down her throat. Her mind didn’t even register what it was.

Fleetfoot reached over and squeezed her free hoof. She locked eyes with Rainbow, but didn’t say anything. But something passed over her face, and Rainbow realized she had seen that expression before.

Griffonstone, three years ago. Rainbow was talking with Misty Fly when a messenger arrived on the field and passed a note to Spitfire. Spitfire read it once, then froze. Then she read it again. Then she called Soarin, and the two read it together.

Then they called Fleetfoot, who landed beside them. Spitfire whispered something to her and Fleetfoot…

Fleetfoot screamed and cried and fell over, weeping. The other Wonderbolts crowded around her in a powerful hug, and she had cried and cried and cried.

She left for home the next day.

Rainbow looked down and realized she was still wearing her training jacket. Had she not changed before she left?

A glance to her right showed that Fleetfoot was also wearing the same thing.

What had pulled them out of training like that?

Rainbow looked up out the window. Suddenly, she was angry. She snarled, feeling something hot and uncomfortable building and building in her chest.

Tears began streaking from her eyes, hot like lava. She began to shake, unable to contain the anger.

Fleetfoot said nothing but seized her in a hug.

Reflexively, Rainbow hugged back. She buried her face into Fleetfoot’s jacket and gave a muffled scream, one that sounded so harsh and monstrous she didn’t recognize it as her own voice.

She slammed a hoof into Fleetfoot’s shoulder. Her teammate didn’t react but hugged her tighter.

And Rainbow cried until she couldn’t anymore. She landed a few more punches on Fleetfoot’s shoulder, not out of spite for her, but because she had nowhere else to put her anger.

When she was empty, Fleetfoot pushed the cup underneath her mouth again. “Drink, Rainbow,” she commanded, and Rainbow obeyed.

The liquid landed in her stomach like lead. She pulled away, swiping at her eyes. Even though the anger was gone, she still trembled, feeling her teeth chattering against themselves.

“Do you need more tissues?”

“N-no, I…” Rainbow shoved a hoof into her jacket pocket and was surprised when it procured a folded piece of paper.

As she pulled it out, a particularly loud crack of thunder filled the air.

And she remembered.

She remembered the journey on the airship. She remembered rereading the letter her mother had sent, saying that her father’s surgery had gone well and although he was tired, he was home.

She remembered seeing the messenger run onto the field, making a beeline straight for Spitfire.

She remembered Spitfire tearing it open, reading it to herself, then her own face hardening.

Rainbow looked at the crumpled, tear-stained paper in her hoof, then turned to look at Fleetfoot.

She remembered Fleetfoot requesting to accompany her home, and Spitfire allowing it.

“She’ll need you,” Spitfire had told her.

Against her own judgement, she unfolded the paper, letting the words stab at her eyes.

Rainbow… your father… in his sleep.

You need to come home.

“You need to go home,” Spitfire had told her.

So Rainbow packed her things and left.

The reality of it all came crashing down around her. She remembered going on walks down Cloudsdale streets, perched upon her father’s shoulder. She remembered going to the movies and getting embarrassed when he fell asleep, and she remembered her shock when he showed up at a Wonderbolts show.

“Rainbow,” Fleetfoot said.

“I can make a rainbow in the sky,” Rainbow heard herself say. “But it wouldn’t have any light.”

Fleetfoot hugged her again, and Rainbow made no move to resist it.

For a second, Rainbow was angry again.

She couldn’t wait any longer.

She’d fly up and buck all those stupid storm clouds to smithereens. The prissy Prench farmers could afford to wait, Rainbow couldn’t.

She’d get those airships in the sky if she had to do it by herself.

She’d fly all the way back to Equestria if the ships wouldn’t take her.

She’d…

Do nothing.

It wouldn’t change a thing.

Her father was still gone.

The folded piece of paper slipped free of her hooves and onto the carpet. Fleetfoot didn’t say anything, but she didn’t really need to. Her eyes told Rainbow that she understood the pain, and that words would do nothing but fall short.

So she hugged her, her thumping heart pounding against the storm in Rainbow’s chest.

I’m two steps in the wrong. I’m two steps in the wrong.

There was a roar of thunder from outside.