Stitches

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick

I don't have enough time. The clock, usually calm and rhythmic, only makes my heart beat faster. What am I supposed to do?

When the doorbell rings, I'm not ready. Not in the slightest. My quivering breath catches in my throat, and I sit unmoving on my couch. Undeterred, the bell's sweet and high chime rings through the boutique once more, jerking me from my panic-induced stupor.

I swallow thickly, standing up from my seat with wobbling legs. I glance back down at the book residing on top of the cushions, an old fable borrowed from Twilight. As I bite my lip, I walk almost blindly towards the front door. What was the book about? I haven't the faintest idea.

My hoof reaches out for the knob as the ringing fades, my heart pounding within my chest. I can't just leave her, of course. Her. Perhaps it's not her, after all? Had I forgotten the time she had scheduled? Maybe it's just a salespony, a colt scout, a... The door is open, oh goodness!

Any hope I had grasped at vanishes in a wave of realization as the pony looks up at me. "Ditzy," I murmur softly at the gray-coated mare, my breath cutting short. The sky beyond her is clear and blue, the sun bright and warm—but her sunflower yellow eyes hold a thousand dark rainstorms.

"H-hi there, Rarity," comes the mailmare's quiet reply, her ears pressed back. She has a plain, woolen scarf wrapped around her neck, and a small pouch grasped in her hooves. We stand there for a what feels like an eternity, the wind dancing across fur, and perhaps both wishing this moment didn't have to exist.

It takes my own will to fall back into her rainy, wonderful eyes, and step away with a forced smile upon my muzzle. "Will you come in, darling?" Heavens, I wish I knew what to say.

Ditzy Doo seems at a loss for words as well, her messy mane covering half her face. She looks beyond tired. No longer does this mare bear a carefree grin and an unceasing bubbly giggle; instead her forehead is lined with new wrinkles, and her lips pull down into a perpetual frown. Finally, her head jerks sideways from outside and she manages a nod.

I close the door behind her slouched form, leading her uncertainly to the table in the kitchen as I hang up her belongings. “Would you like...some tea, Ditzy?” I ask with a false lilt, wiping away the sweat gathering on my brow.

Ditzy sits herself down, ear twitching as she takes in my kitchen. It’s then that I realize she’s never been in my house before. Do I really know anything about this mare? Her mouth moves as if to say something, before she takes in a deep breath.

“Tea…” she rubs her hooves together. “Tea is nice.”

That’s it; those three simple words spoken from her lips. Somehow, I think it took effort just to say that. Nice? How can anything be nice after... Rarity, stay focused! I choke down on a whimper.

“Do you mind which kind of tea?”

Ditzy blinks, and her features contort just a bit...like she’s in pain. “Chamomile.”

I remain silent, waiting for her to say something else, but she stays mute. I sigh, turning away from my houseguest to the cabinets above me. I rummage around for the chamomile tea bags, keenly aware of Ditzy’s presence behind me.

As the hot water boils up to the ceiling in white, thick clouds, I hear Ditzy cough quite purposely. I cock my head, carefully dropping the teabags in and arranging the china cups just so.

“My little muffin’s favorite kind is chamomile.”

I freeze, the only sound being the beating of my heart and the boiling clouds. I almost wish to dip my head inside and let everything be consumed. It takes all my willpower to turn around and face her. "Mine too," I whisper out, immediately feeling my face flare up in warmth at how much of an insensitive fool I sound.

Ditzy doesn't move, and her face remains devoid of an emotion. Empty? Is that a true emotion? I chew my tongue as my blush fades, studying her. She doesn't say anything else, so I'm forced to return to my position over the stove, berating myself under my breath.

When the tea is ready, I carefully pour it into the white cups, levitating it up in my magic. I sit down across from the mare, placing a cup in front of each of us. The hot tea sends swirling wisps of heat up into the air, reaching my muzzle. I take a sip, allowing the many flavors of the familiar brew to reach my taste buds.

Clicking the teacup back down on the glass table, I cock my eyebrow slightly at Ditzy's untouched one. I've always wondered quite how earth ponies and pegasi complete such tasks without the aid of magic, but it never seemed to come up in conversation.

Applejack and Pinkie Pie do have a certain magic about them, either way. But I know that even if Ditzy wanted to drink, she wouldn't have. I don't blame her. As the silence settles around us, I let my mind drift back to what little I know about her.

I've always admired Ditzy from afar. Yes, we're friendly, I suppose, and I'm never one to be exclusive; but having a tight circle of friends like my girls makes it a bit less of my top priority to have more. Although some ponies only see a bumbling and, well, ditzy mare, I see a strong soul. Although I never got her exact age, it's very clear that Ms. Doo is younger than me—perhaps by more than half a decade! And then there's...her daughter.

Despite her young age, Ditzy was able to raise a beautiful and healthy foal, one that Sweetie Belle had made friends with. Yet, Ditzy's all by herself, after that brute of a stallion left her soon before birth. She never gave up, always wore a strong face for her daughter.

I thought Ditzy had managed to get over him, and create a bright future for her daughter, until...

Until. Such an ominous word, full of so many opportunities...and omens. I take another ginger sip of my tea, trying to unstick my throat. I swallow, finally breaking the silence and placing my shaking hooves over Ditzy's own.

She came for a dress. I've done it a few times before for other ponies, each time leaving me feeling like I swallowed lead. But this time, it's so much harder.

"I'm sorry," I say. A mistake.

Ditzy doesn't move her hooves, thankfully, and seems to shiver slightly.

Sorry is for accidentally cutting off your older sister's hair. Sorry is for being rude at school. Sorry is for taking something without asking.

Sorry

not

for

death.

I hold my gaze steady on the mare's, hoping for a response. What more can I say? And then, as an ancient building—she crumbles.

Ditzy's stoic, glassy expression breaks, and her rainy eyes flicker back to life as she lets out a wail. It starts off low and rumbling like thunder in the distance, but soon escalates into a high, warbling cry. I flinch as Ditzy screams, a sound ripping right from her throat, raw and pure. I feel something horrible claw up my stomach, and my eyes burn. Her howl is like a wounded animal found by a predator. A mother who's lost a child.

Ditzy's foreleg slams into the glass table, sending spiderweb cracks along the surface, and her untouched teacup flying up into the air. The hot liquid sprays across her gray coat and the cup crashes into a million pieces on the hardwood floor with a shattering cry. Ditzy tilts, and falls with it, as if she can't hold herself up anymore, and somepony's screaming.

It takes me a moment to realize it's me. "Darling! Darling! Ditzy Doo!" I yell, stumbling madly after her as her soft body smacks against the floor, sending the sharp shards scattering across. Ditzy ignores me completely, and curls up in a ball, more vulnerable-looking than I have ever seen her. Her entire thin form shakes unceasingly. I suck in a breath, clutching up her head and forcing her chin up. "Listen to me!"

Ditzy just jerks her head away from my grasp, face pooling with tears. She lets out another bawl, and buries her face into her hooves.

I feel helpless. This is getting way out of control. I reach out a touch her again, watching as she flinches. My mouth goes dry when I catch a hint of red mixed in with the brown tea. No, Rarity, you can do it! She needs your help, now!

I take a step back, enveloping her in a familiar light blue glow. Ditzy flails upon being lifted up, but I pull her into the bathroom. When I release her, the mailmare collapses into a sobbing mess on the white rug. I quickly pull out a cloth and run it under cold water.

Ditzy makes a small mewling sound but does not pull back, as I gently wipe her cut belly and tea-stained fur. Up and down, back and forth goes the cool cloth. I'm struck with the very strange thought of cleaning up a foal. With just a moment of hesitation, I rub away her tears.

Finally, Ditzy takes a deep breath in, avoiding my glance. It's too late, I've seen what she's hiding inside. It's best we both stop pretending, being fake. This is real.

Dinky is dead.

I bring my mouth close to her ear, stroking her mane. "Darling, pull it together."

Ditzy chews on her lip, chest heaving. No reply. I pull her up without a word, leading the stumbling pony behind me and out of the suffocating bathroom. My mind racing, I find the couch—the living room couch, mind you, not my fainting couch...it doesn't seem appropriate. We sit down together on the worn, soft cushions, but not before I wrap her up in a quilt. It's the least I can do for her.

Ditzy hiccups, accepting the blanket and tightening it around her withers. She buries her wet face into my neck, earning a surprised "ooh!" from me. She shivers with each gasp and wraps her forelegs around my breast.

I close my eyes for a second as the heat from her body seeps into mine. Usually, such an intimate action from somepony I hardly know would spark something, but I know it means nothing. I'm simply a life preserver in an ocean of ice.

I lean against her head, returning the rather awkward embrace. "Ditzy... you can cry. I, of all ponies, understand. It's just..."

Ditzy moans, sniffling. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry," she whispers.

I run my tongue over my mouth. "S-sorry? Whatever for?"

Ditzy pulls away a fraction of an inch from my fur. "I-I broke your pretty cup and the nice glass table, and then...then I started crying like a filly! I'm sorry I ruined your whole morning and day. You don't have to worry about something like me, Rarity. All I wanted was a silly dress, but it's not even worth it."

I furrow my brow, bringing the mare closer. "Of course, it's worth it! I will absolutely help you, darling. And don't you worry about those...old things. I can get them fixed, not doubt." I sigh. "The funeral dress can wait. Right now, do you think we can talk about your baby?" I know this is painful for her, Celestia, I can see it. Sometimes, though, pain is the process of healing.

Ditzy squeaks, tears mixing against my pristine coat. "M-my baby?"

I nod, though I'm unsure if she notices. "Your...muffin, was it?" I ask softly. "You loved her, didn't you?"

I'm not stupid. Any pony can see plainly that this mare loves her daughter so much, so painfully much that it becomes nearly unbearable. But I need to hear her say it. Get out just how special her baby was to her. I understand what it's like to love someone like that. So much that sometimes you wish they were your own blood.

Ditzy's chin quivers. "I loved her more than you would ever know. I loved her more than I thought possible, R-Rarity. Dinky's all I hav... had." My shoulder grows damper.

I pat her back gingerly. "I know, I know. Love is beautiful, isn't it?" I feel her nod yes.

"It is! There was this really special day, you know?" she asks breathily, swallowing hard. The colorful blanket is pulled tighter.

I hum. "Oh? What-what day was that?" Please, let this be a happy, good memory.

Ditzy sits up unsteadily, her hooves gliding over my mane. "December twelfth, 1002," she replies immediately. She's looking across the room now. "It was snowy, almost Hearth's Warming, right? Snowing big, fat snowflakes from the sky. The kind that Dinky loved to play in and make snowponies in."

She giggles rawly, a strange noise.

"I would join her sometimes. But that day, it was really special 'cause she was finally there with me. I remember laying on the crinkly white paper on the bed. And I was really in pain, but it was all fuzzy for some reason. And then the doctor held up a tiny little pony in his hooves... that kinda looked like me. She had a little horn on her head, and the most beautiful eyes I had ever seen," Ditzy says quietly. "I wasn't really sure until then. If I could handle the responsibility, or anything else. But the moment I was holding my little Dinky in my arms, and she was making noises and smiling at me, I knew it was right. Have you ever had that feeling, Rarity?" she asks.

But she's not looking at me, and I don't respond.

"Yep," she hums thickly. "I-I knew it was right, and everything fell into place. I promised I wasn't gonna let hi-him ever, ever hurt my angel like he had hurt me. And I never break promises. But...but then I hurt her..." Ditzy breaks from her tale and collapses onto me again. "It was all my fault!" she cries with a shuddering breath. "All my fault, and now..."

I bite my lip so hard I draw blood, nudging her up roughly. "Now, now, Ditzy!" I choke out through a rush of unwanted tears. Protect her baby, that's all she wanted. My mother, when I was hardly above flank-height, would tell my time and time again how much she loved me. How she would punish me for the best reasons. "Ditzy!"

The mare isn't listening. She's clinging even tighter to me, mumbling words over and over. I try to free myself to get her attention, but only succeed in her pressing her face against mine. "Ditzy, stop this!"

Ditzy pauses, surprisingly. "R-Rarity? Am I making...making you uncomfortable?" she draws back a foot, face decorated red. "I'm sorry, I don't want to, and I'm hugging you too much..."

The moment she leaves, I feel a sense of loss. She needs this. "No, don't worry at all! If you want to hug me, by all means, do! It's the least—" she dives onto me, gasping. I smile a twisted smile through my tears, and return the 'affection.'

"Listen to me, alright?" I ask. "Listen. This is not your fault. It's no one's fault, believe me. You have to, darling. I know that every pony—"

"Do you know?" she interrupts, wings twitching. "What happened?"

"What-what happened?" As soon as I speak, it hits me. "No! I mean, not exactly," I reply quickly. I press my ears back. "Do you want to tell me?"

Ditzy presses her lips together. "Yes. I think I do," she says, almost inaudible to my ears. She inhales in, and then breathes out, her warm breath on my fur. "I mess up sometimes. Well, a lot, I guess, if you listen to the ponies at the post office. I'm...just a klutz, forgetting things, doing this and that. But I'll never forgive myself for this mistake. You've made mistakes, too, right, Rarity? I-I can't be the only one that does this. I bet you've never, never done something so horrible as what I've done..." she chokes out, her voice warbling.

"Darling, I—" Ditzy looks away, and I see she's shaking.

"It's okay, okay, okay, okay, okay!" she mutters. "It is. Just a story. And I..." She squeezes her large eyes shut. "My baby was playing in the living room, with her little doll named Miss Sunny. Miss Sunny was yellow, and I made it just for her. I was making muffins, my favorite kind, which was blueberry, in the kitchen. Everything smelled so nice and warm, like the air was giving me a big hug. I never wanted to leave. I knew my baby loved muffins, so I was gonna give it to her after it came out of the oven.

"B-but my stupid, stupid fuzzy brain kept forgetting that-that my baby said her tummy was hurting a little bit before, and I hadn't gotten her medicine yet, but that was okay, all okay because then I went to give her the muffins and see if she was feeling better and she was taking a nap! W-who doesn't love naps, right? They're almost like sleeping, and make you feel all dizzy after you first wake up, but they're kinda sleepy and nice.

"And my little baby was sleeping on the couch, curled up with her tiny mouth open like she does when she's sleeping really hard, and her beautiful hair was falling over her muzzle and her eyes were closed ever so gently and her chest was rising and fa—and her chest...chest was all furry. I put the muffins down on the floor and-and my baby looked so adorable and sweet on the couch, that I leaned down and kissed her right underneath her horn because s-she really likes that. And so I thought she would look up at me and giggle, but she didn't, so I-I shook her a little bit.

"Then I shook her again, a little harder, and then again, again, again, again but she didn't wake up, but she didn't wake, she didn't WAKE UP! I-I wasn't sure what to do, and I looked around at the room, it was spinning a lot... and so I found the cabinet that was left wide open, and I saw my special Mommy pills for when I got sad feelings and it...it was empty! She had eaten every single one of them, and then j-just fallen asleep! I've told her so, so many times to never ever touch them! But...but my baby was fine, of course, right? So-so I sat down by the couch with her, a-and we just ate the cookies together."

I find myself up against Ditzy again, yet this time, it's me who's hugging her. I lift my hoof up to my cheek, coming away wet and smeared with black. "H-how could you go through that?" I choke out, my words barely decipherable against my tears. I feel sick.

Ditzy opens and closes her mouth a few times. "I-I don't think I did," she breathes. "And it's all my fault."

This snaps me awake. "No," I say slowly, but surely. It's the tone of voice that lets Sweetie Belle know I'm so very serious.

Ditzy's sunflower eyes seem to come together and focus right on me for a brief moment. "No?" she whimpers, drops trailing down her face.

I grit my teeth. "Ditzy Doo, listen to me. You are one of the sweetest, kindest, and most well-meaning ponies I know. Do you honestly think that was your fault?" I ask in a low voice.

Ditzy whimpers. "Ye—

"No." I cut her off. "It is not. Dinky...she loved you, didn't she? You were her mother, and you always took care of her. You cannot blame yourself for this. It was a mistake, though a horrible, horrible mistake. But it was not yours, nor Dinky's. It was...Fate's," I say softly.

Ditzy blinks slowly, tears beading on her lashes. "Fate?"

I swallow hard. "Well, I believe that certain things are set in stone. They are destined to be, and can't be changed. I was destined to be an Element of Harmony, and you were destined to have a wonderful, amazing daughter."

Ditzy flinches. "A daughter who was taken away from me?" she cries, ears flicking. She moves on the couch closer to me.

I sigh. "Y-yes. Nopony can go back and alter it. I'm so sorry. Even if it's the worst thing possible that could ever happen, it still did. You couldn't possibly know that Dinky would do that. You tried your best, and I promise you that you're not at fault," I whisper, my throat dry. "You were a great mother, Ditzy."

Ditzy leans back, golden sunlight from the window filtering onto her mane. It makes her look otherworldly. "I just miss my muffin," she says, but it doesn't sound like she's even talking to me. "I miss her a lot."

I search her face carefully. "Of course, you do," I breathe. "Of course, you do." Who wouldn't? I sometimes even miss Sweetie Belle, lying awake at night. Wondering what she's thinking. Remembering the times I used to sing to her when she was little, when she would look up at me with a little teddy bear in her forearms and slowly drift off to sleep. What would it be like if she never opened her eyes again?

I don't care that another hot tear slides down my face. "I-I..."

Ditzy bows her head down. "I forget sometimes. I hope that when I look up, I'll see her running down the hallway to me, laughing and smiling with a little sleeping hat on. I'll see her baking cookies with me. But I don't. I want to hear her voice again. See her get her cutie mark like the rest of her class! But she's gone! I want my baby back!" she wails.

I pull the blanket over myself as well with a burst of magic. "Ditzy... of course you miss her. You might never stop missing Dinky. And I know it's hard, but I don't want you to," I tell her. "Never stop thinking about her. I want you to remember every single detail about her, the way she laughs, the way she talks, who she is as a pony. Can you do that?" I ask.

Ditzy flattens her ears. "I would never forget her! But—"

"But," I interrupt, "only the good memories. The bright and shiny ones. I bet you have endless amounts of those, yes?"

Ditzy finally cracks a watery smile. "I-I do."

I glance down at the ground. "I'm telling you this because I don't want you to be like the mare that walked through my door earlier. She... she wasn't feeling much, was she? She was pretending that this wasn't real, even though it was, wasn't she?" I say, raising my eyebrow.

I rub the side of my face. "Although, I suppose I was fake, too," I admit, watching her with one eyelid closed. She's silent.

Without a word, Ditzy stands up, part of the blanket dropping to the floor. She turns woozily on her hooves, and stumbles to the black hanger by the door, lifting her up pouch with her mouth.

"Rarity, how much for the dress?"

I stare at the pouch she's placed on the couch, lips parted.

It takes me a moment to find my voice. "Ditzy, I wouldn't even dream of taking money from you. This is for your daughter, and I will do this for her because she deserves it!" That's not to say I wasn't thinking of charging her originally, but now I just...can't.

Ditzy pushes the pouch forward. "But-but, I'm just paying in advance! Should I do it after, maybe, because—"

I shake my head vigorously. My mind is set. And when Rarity's mind is set, she never changes it. "Ditzy, I can't. I will make you this dress for free, and that's the end of it," I say firmly.

Ditzy furrows her brow but doesn't object. "Rarity," she starts at last, "can you make it the most beautiful dress in the world?"

I blink away tears. "The most beautiful dress in the universe," I correct, with a strangled giggle.

Ditzy rummages around in the worn pouch, finally pulling out a framed photo. "Make it yellow, please," she says, placing the picture down. "It's her favorite 'cause it's a h-happy color. And lots of ribbons, okay?" She covers her mouth with shaking hooves. "The picture's for the reference," Ditzy explains, but I hardly hear her.

The picture is of Dinky in the pouring rain, forearms outstretched to meet the drops and eyes wide with wonder, underneath a rubber hat. But the thing that stands out to me is her muzzle. Her lips, though pulled up in a joyous smile, come together ever so slightly. I mimic her expression carefully. ...M...mm...mom.

I can imagine Ditzy, holding the camera under the shelter of their home, calling back out to her.

"Yellow," I echo. "Of course."

I tear my gaze way from the captured memory, feeling like I'm invading something. "I'll have it in time for the funeral."

Ditzy visibly flinches at the word. "Okay," she mumbles, pawing at the floor. "I think I'll see you then, okay?" Okay seems to be her favorite word. Even though nothing is.

I stand up before she can leave, facing her. I take a deep breath. "Darling," I say levelly, "I'm not about to tell you that it's going to be easy. I'm not going to tell you everything's going to be alright. But...I will tell you that I'll be here for you."

Ditzy's face crumples up. "Thank you. Thank you so much," she whispers, allowing me to bring her into a warm hug.

I pull back from her, handing Ditzy her belongings. "Be strong for your little baby," I breathe, slowly opening the door. The little bell jingles. "You may come back anytime you want, alright?"

Ditzy wraps her woolen scarf tight around her neck, blinking fast. "I-I will," she says. "I will." With one last look, she's gone, and the door slams shut. As soon as Ditzy's out of sight, I fall to my haunches on the rug.

I survey the room—the broken teacup, the shattered table splattered with brown, the lingering warmth on my body, and the glossy photo by the couch. Dinky stares back at me, happy and carefree. Who was that filly? I don't know. She was special, though, to a certain mailmare. She just didn't have enough time in Equestria.

I bury my face in the rug.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick