A Christmas Shimmer

by applezombi

Up On the Rooftop

Twilight Sparkle wouldn’t approve. The metal stairs that led from the fire escape out of Sunset and Twilight’s apartment up to the roof was loose on its bolts, rusted, and caked in ice. The railing was freezing cold, and rattled in her hand as she gripped it. Sunset’s hand stuck to the frigid iron, and she swore as she tore it away.

Good thing she’d stashed the bottles in her backpack. There was no way she could have carried them up without tripping and having the entire thing shatter all over the fire escape.

Briefly she wondered if she should sneak back inside the tiny studio, and perhaps find some gloves. But the risk would be waking Twilight up. And as much as she loved her girlfriend, once Twilight woke up there would be Questions, Inquiries, Studies, and Experiments.

Everything got more complicated when Twilight got involved. Usually in the best possible ways. But tonight Sunset was running on instinct. Maybe even a little faith.

Each step up the fire escape crushed the fresh falling snow under Sunset’s booted feet, the fresh snow compressing with that magical crunch that only comes from virgin snow. She climbed slowly, ignoring the pain and discomfort of the cold rail against her skin; it would hurt a lot worse if she fell.

The roof of the brownstone building sparkled in the diamond dust of ice and moonlight. Sunset smiled at the sacred stillness, the peace and quiet that so often seemed absent from the young college student’s life. These were moments to be cherished, she thought. Again she wondered if she should go wake up Twilight. Sharing this with her might be worth the questions.

“Another night,” she whispered, smiling up at the crescent moon up above. “Maybe tomorrow.” She wondered if Twilight would understand.

With a thought of apology at the blanket of snow she was about to mar with her footprints, Sunset stepped out onto the roof, walking over until she was in the middle, between the broken-down satellite dish and the pipe chimney fed by all six of the apartments below.

Sunset stuck her hands in her coat pockets while she brushed at the snow with her boot, clearing a small spot in the roof—just enough that she could set up the two camp chairs poking out of her backpack. She pulled them out, unfolded them, and sat down in one, setting the bag next to her with a clink of glass. Then she sat back in the chair, closed her eyes, and waited, smiling as she felt the light dusting of snowflakes melt against her cheeks.

It had been years since Sunset had been in an Equestrian winter. She remembered Canterlot as a young unicorn student, but she never remembered nights like this. There had never been time to sit in the cold silence and just… wait. There had always been the next achievement, the next study, the next thing to make Celestia proud of her. The next ambition, the next deception, the next manipulation.

It didn’t sting like it used to. She had Twilight and the other girls to thank for that. Even Twilight’s royal Equestrian counterpart.

But tonight, sitting on the roof of her building, Sunset wondered if Equestrian winter nights were like this. She’d never taken the time to sit and just listen to the magic there. Was it really the magic in the air of this night that had called her out of her comfortable bed and the warm embrace of her love?

“Maybe I’m just going crazy, missing Equestria like this,” she muttered out loud. It wasn’t often that she felt homesick.

No.

Homesick wasn’t the right word. Home was here. With the girls. With Twilight.

But she still missed it, sometimes.

Sunset lost track of time. It was cold, but she kept her hands in her pockets. After a few moments, she reached down and pulled one of the bottles out of her backpack, fishing her keychain bottle opener out of her pocket and popping off the top.

“Lukewarm beer, outside, in the middle of the night on Christmas Eve,” she said out loud, hefting the bottle towards the moon in a sort of salute. “Twilight would have my head examined.” She took a sip, rolling the smooth ale over her tongue before swallowing, closing her eyes again to the silent night.

Sunset didn’t really think she was crazy, though. Far from it. And the sound of bells on the snow-draped night only confirmed it. She didn’t even open her eyes, merely smiling and sipping at her beer. She didn’t look up when the crunch of boots on the roof next to her announced the presence of another creature. She merely held up the bag towards the sound.

“Milk and cookies is more traditional,” a cheerful bass rumbled at her, and Sunset laughed.

“Oh, sure,” she said, opening her eyes. “But who else is gonna offer Santa Claus a beer?”

He looked just as she assumed he would. Not the red and white suit in the cola commercials, but an old spirit, ancient and powerful, draped in the trappings of the wishes of a thousand thousand children. His robes were the cover of oak bark, trimmed in moss. His beard was made of hoarfrost, and his eyes bright burning coals of hope and joy. The lines and crags in his face, made rough and brown with wind, were like a roadmap to every single house and rooftop in the world.

“Hah! Well said, Sunset Shimmer. And may I add, would it be silly of me,” he said, rumbling with laughter as he accepted the offered bag, pulling out a bottle of his own, “to offer my surprise at sharing a beer with a mythological creature during my nightly rounds? A unicorn, even.”

“So you know who I am,” Sunset said. She wasn’t really surprised.

“I’ve never seen duplicate names on my list before,” he replied, easing himself down into the camp chair with a groan. It looked too small for him, but it barely sank under his weight. “Sure, some kids have the same name as others, but I know the difference. So when I saw that there were suddenly two Sunset Shimmers, and they were both the same girl, only… not…” he shrugged his shoulders and laughed. “Honestly I’m surprised you waited this long to get in touch. One mythological creature to another, of course.”

“I wasn’t quite in the right place for this sort of conversation,” Sunset admitted, and her company nodded solemnly. “I’m guessing I was on your naughty list.”

“Both of you were,” he said, and Sunset’s eyes shot wide. She gulped, and looked up at the Spirit of Christmas.

“Both of us?” It was a question she’d tried not to think about too hard. Twilight had asked a few times, but Sunset had never had the courage to look into it too deeply. “She was… the same as me?”

“Worse,” he replied, taking a long pull of his beer. “She never had what you had.”

The sweet taste of the beer turned to ash in her mouth, and Sunset struggled to swallow. “Um.”

The figure in the robes took one last long drink of the bottle before he stood, eyes twinkling in the darkness. “Well, I should probably limit myself to one. I am driving, after all.” He laughed. “Merry Christmas, Sunset Shimmer.”

“Wait!” She jerked to her feet, nearly spilling onto the roof in the ice and melting snow. “Um, isn’t there anything I can do? Anything?” What if it was her fault?

What if, by crossing through the mirror, Sunset had somehow…

…stolen her counterpart’s redemption?

But Santa Claus beamed, his white teeth shining in the moonlight. It was like he’d expected the question. “Tell me, Sunset. Did you ever watch those silly little movies that they play on repeat this time of year? Like the one with the three ghosts? Or maybe the one about the good man who doesn’t realize just how wonderful his life is?”

“Fluttershy made me watch that one once, when I asked why she named her newest cat Zuzu,” Sunset shrugged.

“How would you like to be an angel tonight, Sunset Shimmer? Just like the angel from that movie? Maybe answer a Christmas wish that a little girl made, years ago?”