Rainbow has failed, and Twilight is injured. It's all her fault. It's all her fault.
She saw her, tumbling to earth. She heard the crack of horn on stone. She listened to the staccato beeps of hospital monitors. When will she wake up? Will she wake up? Will she ever forgive Rainbow for failing?
Rainbow clutched Twilight in her forelegs as she dodged streams of acid. Twilight had told them the wyrm would be asleep. It wasn’t.
Supposed to be routine, supposed to be routine. Rainbow yelped as green drops dissolved a flight feather. She felt her grip loosen…
No. Her legs tightened around Twilight. She wasn’t going to drop her.
“Rock! Look out for the—”
Rainbow warped her trajectory around the falling boulder, spectral light leaving a trail behind her.
“I know, Twilight! Trust me, I’m good at this!”
The wyrm didn’t stop for the boulder. Its head smashed straight through, dirty teeth gnashing. Just a simple mission, Twilight said. Nothing ever was simple with her.
She’d managed to teleport the others out, at least, but after shielding them from the wyrm’s first acid salvo, she’d been too drained to take herself to safety. It was up to Rainbow to bring her home.
Electric green jets sliced up the cavern walls. Almost free… She could see the exit!
She could see the wyrm, somehow accelerating and leaping between her and the only way out.
“Rainbow!”
“I told you, I know!”
The wyrm spread its wings, blocking the cavern mouth. There was only a small hole, just a little bit uncovered. Rainbow could make it. She had to make it.
A few more yards to cover. She felt the atmosphere compress around her, lines of force extending from her wings. Air drilled into her snout as a shockwave cone burst into being. It was going to be close—
But she’d make it.
Rainbow light blended with acid green fire as Dash’s wings gave one almighty push. The gap was narrowing fast. She was faster.
Her lungs almost burst as she rocketed ahead. The wyrm breathed, missed, tried to bite, missed. Rainbow was better. She was always better.
Rings of light lingered behind her as she plunged through the gap between wyrm and stone. She was through! She was safe! She was—
Not holding Twilight.
No. No, no, no… There!
Falling quick. Screaming. Need to save her, need to move fast!
Wings tired. Can’t do a rainboom again. Need to do it again. Flap faster, dive, dive for her, almost, reach out, miss!
No, again, maneuver, reach out—
Hooves closed on empty air.
No!
A wet crack as horn hit rock. Not fast enough. Another damp flop as Twilight’s body followed her horn. Rainbow struck the ground beside her, knees groaning from the impact.
Necks didn’t bend that way, right? No, she’s breathing. She’s fine. She has to be fine. Rainbow held her wings around Twilight’s head, tried to get her neck straight.
“Talk to me, Twilight!”
Her feathers stained with something red and something worse, a clear liquid that leaked from around Twilight’s horn.
“Come on, wake up!” She shook her, shook her harder, like she was sleeping in and late for school. “Come on!” She felt forelegs around her, pulling her away. “Hey! I need to… I need to help…” Still they dragged her.
Rainbow heard voices. “Dearest, can you hear me?” “Get Redheart!” “Stop the bleeding!” She didn’t know who was talking. She didn’t care. Her wings flexed, tried to gain lift, but only snapped back against her sides. She’d dropped her. She… if she flew again…
“Twilight!” The unicorn didn’t answer. Someone else, someone wiser and calmer than Rainbow, wrapped Twilight in her legs and took her away.
Beeping. Always beeping. Better than not beeping. That would mean Twilight was… that Rainbow had failed. Failed worse than she already had.
Rainbow could hear the beeps through the hospital walls, through the door as nurses came and went. She’d always had good hearing. Good enough to catch every syllable of Twilight’s scream as she fell to earth.
The hallway smelled of antiseptic and latex, but all Rainbow could sense was the blood on her feathers, mingling with acid and whatever slime had oozed from the base of Twilight’s horn. The others were there around her, of course. Rarity and Applejack and Pinkie. Fluttershy had flown off to find Spike. They all told her it wasn’t her fault.
They lied. She knew she’d done it, she knew she’d let her hooves slip. She had one job, just one; just hold on tight. A foal could have done it. A foal could have—
“Rainbow, dear?”
Rarity’s voice lifted her from the shadows. She had to shake her head a few times to clear her mind.
“Rainbow, are you alright?”
She sat there, stunned, for a moment. Then she growled. “Yeah, of course I’m alright. I’m not the idiot who let the worst flier in Equestria c-carry me and th-then drop me right on my… on my…” Wings covered her eyes, and tears joined the blood coating her feathers. “H-how could I d-do it, Rarity?”
Gentle pasterns pushed their way past her wings, cradling Rainbow’s head. “We all saw you from the ground. You had just done a rainboom. Why, the stress from that…”
Rainbow lashed out, her legs crashing into Rarity’s as she threw her away. Her wings spread as she stood. “No! I should have been able… I should have practiced it more! I should have… I should have…” She collapsed back onto the bench, sobbing softly.
Cyan wings wrapped back over her eyes. Nurses walked past, gurneys trundled through. Her friends tried to console her, but all Rainbow heard was the beeping. Sunlight gave way to moonlight, but all Rainbow saw was a tumbling purple unicorn, still hoping for her friend to catch her.
From behind her fortress of feathers, she heard draconic footsteps. The wyrm was back, it was… just Spike. Just Spike, dashing in as fast as those legs would take him.
“Is she alright? Tell me she’s alright!”
Fluttershy galloped in behind him, somehow moving slower than he was. Spike could run fast when he needed to. When Twilight needed him.
He cast his eyes around the hallway, hoping to see some sign that she was okay, to see her trotting out the door with a few bandages on her brows and a “Hey, Spike” on her lips.
She didn’t walk out.
Applejack curled a leg around him and drew him close. “Doc says she’s strong, sugarcube, and not one of us is gonna leave her till we hear she’s getting better.”
Fluttershy was next, panting from her run. “I flew her here… as fast as I could… I hope I was… fast enough…” Rainbow lowered her wings and saw tears in her eyes. Fluttershy blamed herself. If anything worse happened to Twilight, she’d act like it was her fault.
That’s right, genius. Don’t just hurt one friend, hurt two of them at once. You’re the expert at it.
Anger and shame choked Rainbow’s voice, so all that came out was a little squawk. Spike looked up.
“Um, Fluttershy, why did you fly her back? Wouldn’t Rainbow be…?”
“Yes!” Dash finally managed to push past the lump in her throat. Passing nurses turned to see who had shouted.
“Yes, I should have been faster, I should have carried her back, I should be the only one with her blood on my feathers!” Her wings stretched out before her, all covered in red. They were alien wings, the wings of some other pony who was too slow, too weak, too scared to carry Twilight again. Not Rainbow’s wings. She’d never fail like this.
She had failed like this. And now they hated her.
“Spike, I’m sorry!” She slumped off the bench, her hooves barely catching her before her skull hit the scuffed floor. Too drained to walk, she crawled over to him, eyes level with his. “I dropped her. I… it was my fault. I wasn’t…”
Shock shot across his face. This was it. He knew, and they’d never be friends again. Spike raised his arms, extended those awful claws. She deserved it. “Do it, Spike.” Hurt me.
His claws stroked her fur. Spike gave her a warm hug. “Fluttershy told me what happened. If not for you, that monster would have...”
Rainbow’s body convulsed away from him. She didn’t deserve this. Something popped as her back slammed into the wall, and she curled up tight, hiding behind her prismatic mane.
“Rainbow, you can’t blame yourself!”
“Yes! I was the monster! I am!” Coil tighter, squeeze harder. Angry wings repelled the mares still foolish enough to call her a friend. Finally, they left her alone.
Visiting hours were well past over, but being the Elements of Harmony did come with a few perks. Applejack and Rarity paced near the door, Pinkie lay on a bench with a deflated mane, Fluttershy held Spike close in her wings, and Rainbow… Rainbow stayed where she belonged.
Six pairs of eyes locked onto Nurse Redheart as she stepped out the door. Spike spoke first.
“Is she okay? Can we see her?”
Redheart came closer. “She’s stable, but not ready for visitors. The doctors are still working on it.”
Fluttershy hugged Spike a little closer. “Is she going to get better?”
The nurse paused for a moment, and that told Spike all he needed. “You don’t know, do you?”
Redheart took a deep breath. “Her injuries are serious. Valiant efforts on the part of our surgical staff corrected much of the damage to her bones and tissue, but some injuries are more difficult to treat. We won’t be able to make a full diagnosis until she wakes up.”
“But she will wake up?” This time, it was Rarity who spoke.
The nurse nodded her head. “She will, eventually. She might be different, though. A little confused. You’ll have to give her time.” She looked around at the five mares and the small dragon, each one watching her every action, hoping to find some clue to their friend’s condition. “It’s too early to tell you anything more. Please, go home. Get some rest.”
Rainbow mustered up the strength to talk. She might be a failure of a friend, but she’d be damned if she was going to abandon Twilight. Again. “What? We can’t just leave her! I can’t just leave her! I put her…”
“Ms. Dash, this is a hospital. I can’t have you walking around with bloody wings, it’s an infection risk.”
“I don’t care about the danger! I need to stay with her!”
Nurse Redheart drew closer, and Rainbow could swear she saw a grimace flicker across her lips. “Ms. Dash, please keep your voice down. In their present state, your wings are a hazard to my other patients, and I will not let you hurt them.”
Her voice softened. “Go home. Wash up. Twilight wouldn’t want to see you like this.” She wanted to give her a quick hug, to do something to show her that her friend would be okay, but she couldn’t afford to get that blood on her. And as for proving Twilight would be okay… she didn’t know herself.
“I can’t have you all blocking the corridors. I’m sorry, but you need to go for now.” She noticed a small tug at the corner of her scrubs and looked down to see Spike. “Yes?”
“What about me? I’m small. I won’t block anything.”
Redheart thought for a moment. His dragon biology meant he couldn’t possibly infect a pony, and if Twilight woke up in the night, it would be best for her to see a friendly face. Who better than her little brother?
“Alright, Spike. You can stay. Everypony else, go home. Get some sleep.” Spike gave her a little hug in thanks.
Applejack dragged Rainbow up to her feet. “Come on, we aren’t being any help here. Spike’ll take good care of her.”
The nurse said her wings were dangerous. Rainbow had to fix that. A hoof twisted the knob of her shower as she stepped in. After the ice wind outside, the hot water felt like it would burn her alive.
Wings scrabbled for soap, the bar turning crimson as she brushed it back and forth across her tortured pinions and acid-scarred down. Still, her wings stayed firmly red.
Hotter. The house’s hot-water heater was powerful; it had to be to handle the chill of altitude. Her feathers reached out for the knob.
Still red. Hotter. Get it out, scrub it out. Teeth clenched around a rough sponge as she scraped. Hotter.
Still red. Scrape harder. Hotter. It wasn’t enough.
Rainbow was strong. She could do this. She could get it off. Hotter. Steam clouded her vision. Was it still red? It had to be. Hotter.
Feathers frayed as she scrubbed. Turn the knob. Hotter. Get closer. Didn’t they use pumice stones for cleaning? She had one. Bite it. Scrape with it. Her skin rubbed raw.
Still red. She still saw red. She only saw red.
Finally, the heater gave out and ice water slammed into Rainbow’s wings. Red was all she saw before she blacked out.
Falling. Failing. Not fast enough. Need to—breathe! The water rose up to her snout, and Rainbow’s body convulsed on instinct. Not knowing if she was in a tub or diving for Twilight, her wings worked furiously, thrashing the red-stained bathwater into storm swells.
Her back arched and flexed, stretching already-strained tendons. By the time she’d levered herself out of the tub, she’d already spilled half of it on the floor, and the water was still coming. It took three minutes before she had the strength to stand up and turn it off.
Rainbow slipped and shuffled her way across the wet tiles. Her hooves slid around on soap suds, almost tripping her again.
Of course, if she couldn’t handle taking a shower, it’s no wonder she couldn’t handle a single pony. Not even a hefty mare like Applejack, or a pony with a huge cupcake belly like Pinkie. No, just everyone’s favorite little bookworm, Twilight. She’d dropped her right on her head, her massive, smart, stupid egghead.
Stupid, stupid Twilight. Why’d you have to do it? Why’d you have to trust me? Why’d I have to betray you?
The steam began to clear, and Rainbow saw an ugly mare in the mirror. She was breathing hard and heavy, barrel heaving with effort. The mirror mare had scratches all over her face, raw flesh on her wings, bags under her eyes. The bad lighting made it look like her multicolored mane had faded halfway to gray.
Rainbow raised a hoof to smash the mirror and kill that thing, that broken thing she saw. She’d murder that mare who almost murdered her friend.
No. That wouldn’t do at all. Twilight needed her useful, not beating herself up.
The mare in the mirror grimaced as Rainbow splashed rubbing alcohol on her injuries and wrapped them in gauze. She paced the room directionlessly, then wandered across the rest of her house, killing time until she could visit the hospital again. Slowly, slowly, the moon slid below the horizon and sunlight drilled into Rainbow’s sleepless eyes. It was time to see if Twilight would forgive her.
Her wounds may be bound, but her wings still ached. Rainbow drifted on the few thermals she could find, but they were few and far between in this biting winter. She gritted her teeth and pushed on.
The hospital was easy enough to find; she’d dashed there a few times before, once carrying Spike after Twilight’s magic backfired, a second time toting a critically-injured Pinkie, one particularly exciting time with Applejack in her legs and an angry manticore on her tail. Being an Element of Harmony was a dangerous job.
So dangerous your best friend could kill you, apparently. After all Twi’d been through, to die at the hooves of another Element. Wonder what they’d put on the tombstone?
Here lies Twilight Sparkle. Her friend killed her. Thanks a bundle, Rainbow.
She tilted her wings as she made the final descent to the hospital, pedestrians clearing a place for her on the sidewalk. The flapping gauze on her wings made her look like a patient, but she brushed away the nurses who rushed to her.
“Where’s Twilight?”
The nurses didn’t need any more clarification; it wasn’t every day a unicorn came in with such a severe horn injury. They pointed her toward her room.
Rainbow should probably have remembered how to get there, but she didn’t remember much of anything from last night. She didn’t want to remember.
“Hey, guys?” The mares clogged the hallway, just as before. Rarity had smeared on a little makeup and at least tried to camouflage her distress, but everyone else looked like they hadn’t slept. At least that was something Rainbow had in common with them.
Applejack responded, the shadows from her hat almost hiding her puffy eyes. “Heya, Dash. Before you ask, doc says she’s okay. She’s sleeping, but regular sleep because she’s tired, not bad hit-your-head KO’d sleep.”
Rainbow suppressed a chuckle at her detailed medical terminology. “Good to hear, AJ. How are…” A soft prod from Fluttershy cut her off. “Um, what?”
“Are… are those bandages?”
“Well, yeah. I must have got cut up a bit in the escape. It’s nothing.” It’s more proof that I can’t even take a bath without messing up.
“O-okay, Rainbow. I hope you feel better.” The buttery pegasus trotted off to rejoin the rest of the group, a gentle wing leading Rainbow into following her. Together, the five mares crowded around the door, all trying to look in the window.
She was bandaged, that was for sure. She was breathing, too, if the rise and fall of her bedsheets were any indication. She wasn’t alone, either. Spike, snoring soundly as ever, sat by her side. One of his arms held her hoof as they both slumbered. It looked like he was the only one of them who got any sleep at all, though Rainbow realized he’d probably tried to stay awake as long as he could.
“Excuse me, but you’re a fire hazard.”
The mares drew back from the door, heads bowed and sheepish. “Sorry, Nurse Redheart,” they all answered in unison.
“Well, now that you’re not endangering my patient, it’s time for some news. As you can see, she’s recuperating well, and she should be opening her eyes soon.”
She hadn’t said it, but Rainbow could tell there was supposed to be a but at the end of that sentence. “What’s the bad news?”
Redheart sighed. “Any injury such as hers brings with it a high risk of complications. In some cases, surgery is necessary to correct overstimulation to the cerebral…”
Rainbow put out her hooves in frustration. “C’mon, nurse, explain it like we’re not eggheads!”
Redheart sighed again, longer this time. “Unicorn horns are attached directly to their brains. It’s why they have a much more precise control of magic than a pegasus or earth pony does. Unfortunately, it also puts them at greater risk.” This was when the friends of the patient gasped. This was always when they gasped. Redheart hated this part.
“Since they’re connected so tightly, any sudden shock to the horn can cause a shock to the brain. Falling straight on it from altitude…” She took a breath. “Tests are preliminary, but we suspect significant brain damage.”
Rainbow was the first to talk. “So? I hit my head all the time as a filly, and it’s not like Twilight doesn’t have brain cells to spare. When’s she waking up? When can…” Fluttershy’s wing curled around her and stifled her will to speak.
“I know this is hard to take.” The same line she used every time. “The brain is highly complex, and its reaction to trauma can be unpredictable. In Twilight’s case, this necessitated more extreme surgery. Now, before you get any ideas, remember she is alright, and she’s even ready to accept visitors—”
Rainbow’s ears perked. “She is? Great, thanks, bye!” Her shoulder slammed the door open as she rushed to Twilight’s side, Spike jerking awake from the noise. Somewhere behind her, Redheart tried to explain the procedure while the mares rushed in.
“Twilight? Can you hear me?”
Spike looked up at Dash and shook his head.
“What? She’s lost her hearing? Did the doc cut off her ears?”
The dragon rolled her eyes. “Bandages, Dash, Bandages.” Thick rolls of gauze mummified her head, obscuring all her facial features and soundproofing her ears. “So, you know, someone doesn’t wake her up while she’s sleeping.”
“Oh. Right, sorry.” Rainbow started to reach out a wing, then pulled it back. It wasn’t right for her to be the first of the girls to touch her, not after what she did. Somepony else needed to…
Pinkie terminated that train of thought. The party pony almost leapt on the hospital bed, before Redheart reminded her Twilight only barely escaped needing a cast. A bit miffed but with much more bounce in her mane than the night before, she laid a pastel pastern on Twilight’s barrel. Before the nurse could stop her, she drew her into a hug, warm as Pinkie’s best yet still carefully calibrated to be too soft to injure. She really did have a hug for every situation.
Fluttershy was next, brushing downy feathers over her friend’s forelegs. Rarity would have given the unicorn a kiss on the cheek, but bandages covered that area completely. Spike tried to get in quick nuzzles with Twilight in between the girl’s greetings.
Applejack came in after Rarity, and then…
Something was off. The bandages made Twilight’s head into more of a giant lump, but it still didn’t seem like it should.
Rainbow gathered up the strength to touch Twilight’s fur, frowning at the many small cuts and scratches she’d endured as she rolled on the ground. Small wounds, but still her fault. Her hooves reached higher…
Rainbow watched her slip in and out of consciousness, listening to the breath whistling through her battered nose. The doctors had savaged her—somewhere behind that mass of bloody white bandages there was a stump, a severed growth where a horn should have been.
They’d ruined her. She’d never cast a spell again, she’d never… organize her whole library at once with telekinesis, or learn a new bit of sorcery, or whatever it was eggheads did. She’d never be Twilight again.
They’d broken her. She’d broken her.
“Twilight… I’m sorry.”
As if she’d heard, Twilight stirred again. Quick as lightning, Spike called out to the nurses. They came, ran their tests, checked the machines, but everything was alright. She was waking up, for real this time. Redheart peeled away some of the bandages, letting her see and hear better.
Did she remember? Could she feel her missing horn? Would she look at Dash and see a friend or an enemy? What would she say to her?
“Euughh…”
Well, that answered that question.
Twilight made a few more tired moans, a half-hearted grunt, and a soft cough. “What…” The rest of her sentence was promptly stifled by Spike’s hug, his warm cheek pressing into her bandaged one. He was a good friend. Not like Rainbow.
“I missed you, Twilight,” he muttered.
“Yeah, I love you, too, Spike.” She tried to dislodge her snout from his grungy scales. “When was the last time you took a bath?”
Spike begrudgingly lifted himself away, but not without a retort. “Hey, you’re no bed of roses, either.”
Twilight flopped her head back onto her pillow, her eyes closing again. The girls held their breath…
“Relax, I’m just tired.”
And let it out. She was fine. Or as close to fine as a unicorn without her horn could be.
She rolled her neck backwards and forwards, joints popping and snapping. Her forelegs strained for a moment, before she noticed the splints holding her back.
“Hey, Spike? Think you can do me a huge favor?” she muttered, with a twinge of strain in her voice.
The little dragon perked up. “You know I’d do anything for you, Twi.”
“Uh-huh. Itch right under my chin… yeah, that’s it. Thanks, Spike.” She sneezed. “And really do take a bath.” Her bandaged hoof pointed up at the girls. “Make sure he takes a bath, okay? He’ll stink up the whole library.”
She seemed… fine? Had she noticed? Could she feel it? Was she planning what to say, what sequence of words would destroy Rainbow?
Twilight kept talking, her words a bit slurred thanks to the painkillers. “Last time I was in the hospital, they gave me a few shots in the rump. Guess this was a little more serious.” Another cough. “Take notes for that report on Equestrian medical practices, Spike. You remember how to cite personal experience, right? Cross-reference it with that book in the library, you know, sorting number 431…”
“... 7813, A Surgeon’s Survey of Modern Medical Maladies,” Spike completed, jotting down shorthand on a scrap of paper—the back of a lollipop wrapper, actually. He made do with what he had.
“These drugs are terrific, by the way. I can’t even feel my horn.”
Twilight took a deep breath. “So, what happened?”
The other girls said nothing, but Rainbow could feel their glances, quick little flicks of the eye over to her. They were almost involuntary, but each one cut like a razor blade.
Rainbow felt like she’d been turned to stone, except stone couldn’t feel shame and it certainly couldn’t feel pain. Her mouth chomped noiselessly as words failed to form.
“I… I…” She’s lying. She remembers everything. She wants you to say it, say you failed her, say you dropped her and took her horn and took her life away and why didn’t you just die yourself?
She started to sway slowly from one side to the other, like a ship in a storm. “I dropped you, Twilight. Right… right on your head, and the wyrm, it was coming too fast, and I dropped you, and my wings, and the acid, and I couldn’t, and I… I…” Her scratched jaw opened and closed, opened and closed without any sound but a faint gurgle. She looked like she would collapse.
“Rainbow, what’s going on?” Twilight tried to reach out a splinted foreleg to comfort Dash—don’t deserve it don’t deserve it—but the pegasus recoiled like she’d touched fire, her hooves scuffing the ground. Step by step she moved further away.
“Rainbow, you’re scaring me.”
Her only response was a strangled “I’m so…”
Spike took pity on Rainbow. “I’ll tell her.” His grip tightened around Twilight’s leg, his claws able to slice through diamond yet somehow soft and comforting against her fur. He could never hurt her.
A purple hand reached out to smooth down the errant coils of hair that had broken free of Twilight’s mane. “Twilight, you fell”—No, I dropped her, threw her down like garbage—“while Rainbow was saving you from the monster.” Should have saved you from myself. ”The doctors said…”
A gale force wind drowned out the rest of his words. Louder and louder, Why didn’t you save her? Words like hammers crashed into Rainbow’s skull—How could you have done it? His mouth moved, but Rainbow couldn’t hear anything but the winds inside her mind, shouting, screaming, whispering in voices sharp as oiled steel betrayer.
Rainbow curled into the corner, the spotlessly clean hospital corner where her wings rubbed against the tile and reopened their wounds. Faint little drops of red smeared against the wall as her feathers stretched out over her, trying to shield herself from the wind, from the rage she felt, the hatred her friends must have for her—
Another set of feathers skimmed over her own, barely pushing her wings open. “Um, Rainbow? Twilight would like to talk to you, if that’s alright.”
Fluttershy let Rainbow balance herself against her, like a mother helping a foal to walk for the first time. On teetering legs, she approached the hospital bed, cold white sheets surrounding white bandages trapping a unicorn without her horn.
“Rainbow?” Twilight’s voice was soft. “Spike told me. He said you did everything you could—”
“Well it wasn’t enough!” Rainbow let the storm inside her burst out. “It wasn’t good enough, and now you’re—” A wing stabbed at the bed. “—there and I’m here and you’re—”
Fluttershy’s wings calmed her.
“—and you’re where I should be.” Rainbow leaned into the other pegasus, butter-yellow folding around cyan.
Twilight rubbed her stump, grimacing a little as electricity flickered down her nerves. “I know you didn’t mean it, Rainbow. It’s okay…”
She kept talking. More empty words, somehow so heavy they crushed Rainbow. So much air, so many… platitudes. That’s a word Twilight would use.
“Not your fault,” she said. “Did your best,” she said. Twilight spoke on autopilot, going through the list of things you’re supposed to say to comfort your friend. Whoever wrote the list did a terrible job.
Raising her wings again, Rainbow dashed out of the room. Fluttershy started after her, but Twilight held her back.
“Let her go.” Spike came closer with a rag to wipe the tears from her muzzle. “Thanks, Spike.”
She fell back into the pillows. “Well, guess someone should tell Princess Celestia her most faithful student is going to have to drop out.”
Rainbow peered in through the hospital window, forcing her tortured wings to hover. She couldn’t face Twilight, not now, but she couldn’t leave her either. So she floated, looking in at the friend she’d mutilated.
Night had fallen, and Rainbow should be asleep. So should Twilight, but she was still tossing and turned, muttering dictation to Spike. Between the blackness outside and the bandages on Twilight’s skull, they couldn’t see Rainbow, not if she moved carefully.
“Spike, take a letter,” Twilight muttered, for what must have been the twentieth time. “Dear Princess Celestia…” She blinked back tears, and for a moment she tried to grab a handkerchief in her magic, but her only reward was a spark of pain down her spine. Her back arched a little as what was left of her horn sputtered and fizzled.
Twilight fell back into bed, exhaling a sound somewhere between a laugh and a yelp. “Guess I’ll have to learn to stop doing that.”
Spike tried to reach out and help her, but she brushed him away, her tone quickly shifting back to the familiar voice she always used when writing letters.
“Dear Princess Celestia.” Again, she rubbed her eyes. “I don’t suppose the castle is hiring janitors?”
Spike stopped writing, sighed, and crumpled the letter into a ball. “Twilight, just because you’re…”
“What? Useless?” She didn’t look at him, just stared up at the ceiling. Knowing Twilight, she’d probably already counted the tiles, noted any defects, and figured out which ones would need replacing soonest. “Even earth ponies have some magic. It’s in their blood—but everything unicorns have is focused in a single little oh-so-fragile horn.”
She squirmed a bit as her dragon crawled up onto the bed with her. “C’mon, Twi! You can still be a librarian! I’ll be around to carry the books for you, and do the reshelving, and everything!” He tried, and failed, to coax a smile on Twilight’s bruised face. “Sure, magic is pretty helpful, but I’m helpful… er!”
All he got for his efforts was another long sigh. “It’ll never be the same, Spike. My whole destiny is magic! It’s my cutie mark!” She flexed her shoulders the barest fraction of an inch, her joints popping. “Every time I see my flank in the mirror, what am I going to think?”
Spike pressed up closer to her. “You’ll think about us. You’ll think about your friends.”
Through the window, Rainbow could see Twilight’s jaw clench.
“What am I going to say to her?” Twilight grimaced as she gestured with her splinted forelegs, pangs running through her body. “Dear Princess Celestia, I regret to inform you that circumstances beyond my control have…” She trailed off, and Spike added another balled-up letter to the pile.
“Dear Princess Celestia, it’s been a few years since you sent me to Ponyville to learn about the magic of friendship.” She sucked in air through her broken nose, her breath whistling.
Spike’s quill worked at lightning pace as Twilight began to speak faster and louder. “Well, I learned, alright. I learned friends could take your magic away and leave you broken in a hospital bed.”
Rainbow’s wings nearly gave out.
“I don’t know if you had some destiny in mind for me, but I guess that’s out the window now.” She glanced over in Rainbow’s direction. “At least some of my friends stayed true.” Twilight winced as he levered Spike up onto her belly, embracing him in a splinted-leg hug.
The dragon shifted in her grip, his scaly mouth breaking out into an open-lipped smile—no, a sneer. Rainbow had never known Spike had so many teeth before…
Still Twilight muttered. “Not like the others, are you, Spike?” She reached out to comb back his frills, the movement making half-healed wounds pop open. Twilight gasped a little, and so did Rainbow.
She saw blood creep from gashes on her skin, flowing in rivers to the crown of her forehead.
Twilight stared through the window, eyes boring holes in the pegasus outside. “What’s the matter, Rainbow?” The blood moved like a living creature, crawling up Twilight’s face.
“I thought you were loyal, Rainbow.” Still the blood limped its way over Twilight’s fur, coalescing where her horn should have been. Like a scab forming, it hardened, darkened, and crusted over, a new putrid horn sprouting from the stump of the old.
The sanguine horn flashed, her familiar lilac magic enveloping it. “I thought you were my friend.”
Lances of dried blood shot through Rainbow as she fell from the sky.
