> One Golden Day
>  by Crystal Wishes
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Good
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Good morning, Miss Golden."

The voice pervaded her not-quite-awake, not-quite-asleep daze.  There had been nothing but the weightless sensation of comfort, warmth, and darkness; however, as soon as she heard her valet's voice, full awareness crashed in on her like a physical blow.

Golden's eyes snapped open just as Dusty Might threw the curtains back.  The first hint of sunlight was barely peeking over the horizon, illuminating the room in low light.  "And what, exactly, is going to be good about today's morning, noon, or night?"

Dusty sighed.  His shoulders sagged before he rolled them back into place, turned his head, and fixed her in his usual, unwavering stare. "You agreed to the charity auction."

"Yes, but I don't have to enjoy spending a day with a total stranger."  She draped her foreleg over her face and turned her head away.  In a bitter mumble, she added, "I thought my time would have been worth more than merely two-thousand bits."

As he walked past the bed, she heard Dusty snort.  "From what I could tell, the stallion was already regretting it."

The memory of the stallion's face as he approached the stage stirred a twisted amusement within her. It was a look she'd seen before: the thrill of getting what you wanted, and the fear of its consequences.

She could hardly fault a pony for being intimidated by the prospect of spending a whole day with her.

"Well, then." She moved her foreleg to smile at the ceiling. "I'll simply have to ensure he has a wonderful time.  Then, when others hear of how today went for him, next time I'll be the top-bit mare on auction."

Dusty sighed, in the middle of laying out prospective jewelry on the bed for her to wear. "Please stop making yourself sound like a hawked ware for sale."

Though she said nothing in response and looked over the selection with an impassive expression, inwardly she rolled her eyes.

This had all been her current stallionfriend's idea.  Platinum Suit loved charities, and when she'd been approached to participate in one, he was enthusiastic about it.  He was such a good pony that way.

She still couldn't decide if that was something she admired, was envious of, or hated.

In the end, this was just a publicity stunt and nothing more to her.  She shouldn’t care that all the bits went to funding medical research. She couldn’t possibly care that more and more soldiers were coming home with injuries that their hospitals weren't prepared for.

A good pony would care about those things, and she knew better than to think herself one.

Her horn lit up and she levitated a silver filigree choker to adorn her neck with its elaborate yet delicate little swirls and curls.

Dusty went over to the closet and started to pull out a matching dress, but Golden cleared her throat.

"That won't be necessary. I shall go au naturel today."

He looked at her over his shoulder, one half-lidded eye barely visible through his disheveled mane. "As you wish."

When she reached the doorway, she stopped to look back at him with a toss of her mane and a playful smirk.  "Don't wait up for me. I might be out late, if I come home at all."

"I'll see you tonight, then," he said, his gaze turning from hers, a lack of amusement—a lack of anything—in his tone.  "Unless you're announcing that you would like for me to inform Platinum of the end of your relationship."

Her mouth twisted into a frown.  "You're no fun at all, you know that?"

Dusty's shoulders rolled in a shrug.  "It's not in my contract to be fun."

"That could be changed," she muttered, striding forward and closing the door behind her with a light flick of magic.

Normally, a stallion would pick her up from her condo for their date, where she would make him wait while she feigned perfecting her already-perfect image.

This time, however, was different.  She needed to impress this pony with how good she was, how selfless she could be in going to him rather than he to her.  The trick to becoming something was to get everypony to believe you already were.

Opinions and perceptions that fueled gossip were everything in her world. They were the difference between what was and what was.

As she made her way through the cobblestone streets of Canterlot, she turned heads and stirred hearts. She held her head high as she moved past ponies who saw her as the poster mare for the new modeling movement.

Every journalist praised her for having the strength to present herself as she was, shedding the guise of Au and returning to her roots—literally, in the case of her mane and tail.

Someday, she was certain she would actually be the good pony they all thought she was.

Shaking the thoughts from her head with a swish of her tail, she strode up the steep stairs that led to a simple condominium.  It was near the castle walls, which made sense, really.  A pony who could afford to throw thousands of bits on a single day could surely afford to live here.

Before she could knock on the door, however, it was practically flung open and a harried face stared back at her.  Not only were his eyes as wide as could be, but his pupils were the size of pinpricks.

"Good morning, Forest Shadow," she said smoothly, offering a hoof.  He didn't take it, but he did stare at it.  That was enough, she supposed, so she lowered it again. "Are you ready?"

The question seemed to snap him out of his stupor as he blinked rapidly. "Ready?" A quivering laugh escaped him before his mouth flapped a few times.  "As ready as a pony in my, um, position could be expected to be, I guess?"

He was nervous.  How sweet.  It was a shame he couldn't hide it as well as she did, what with the trembling he displayed and the light sheen of sweat matting the green of his coat. Her own nerves were well contained within an aura of confidence.

"Very good, then." She turned and started back down the steps.  "Let's get breakfast."

"Breakfast," he repeated, disbelief clear in his voice as he hurried to follow alongside her. "Just like that, you and me, getting breakfast."

Golden looked down at him with a slight angle of her head.  "That is rather the point of today, isn't it?"

He just huffed in response, his wide eyes darting around at all the ponies looking at them.

She pressed, "What did you think today would be like?"

"Huh?"  He glanced up at her and his ears went flat against his cropped blue mane.  "Well, uh, honestly?"  He swallowed audibly.  "I just sort of thought you wouldn't show."

Her own ears went flat and he winced as if she'd struck him before she even spoke.  "What sort of pony do you take me for?"

"A beautiful one," he blurted out, then quickly amended, "No, I mean, a busy one. I mean, not that you're not beautiful. You are.  But I meant that, you're busy.  Because you're beautiful?"

She was torn between flattered and vaguely annoyed.  That was all she was, wasn't it?  Her looks. A model's career was based on appearance, so much so that everything else had to be sacrificed.  This was the price she'd paid: to be beautiful meant to be nothing else.

The rest of the walk continued in awkward silence until they arrived at La Petite Pâtisserie.  It was a quaint little Prench bistro that was never busy, which made it perfect for enjoying a croissant or a crepe in relative peace.

Forest took a seat at the iron wrought table Golden expectantly stopped by.  Her brow raised and, with only mild disappointment, she pulled out her own chair to sit across from him.

"I try to avoid eating here too often," Golden explained while she crossed her hindlegs and looked out at the quiet streets where ponies milled about.  "I don't want it to become popular."

Forest shifted, trying to get comfortable.  She doubted he ever would.  "Why?"

"Because then I'd lose having it to myself."

His lips pursed and he nodded as if he understood.  Once again, she doubted he ever would.

The owner herself came with menus—and the usual praise and gratitude for Golden's patronage.  Once they were alone again and the awkwardness had dragged on too long, Golden cleared her throat and looked over the menu with her best impersonation of a pony who cared for small talk.  "So, do you do this often, then?"

At the sound of her voice, Forest visibly tensed up and met her gaze with his best impersonation of a frightened deer.  "What?"

"Pay mares to spend time with you."

The silence that followed was only between them; within her mind, she was screaming.  There were mental champagne flutes splintering against mental walls, and her face was subsequently buried into the folds of her favorite blanket.

Forest just stared at her with an understandable look of dismay and embarrassment.

Finally, Golden tapped her menu against the table and looked at anything but him, heat burning her cheeks to a golden orange.  "I'm sorry, that came out... absolutely wrong.  I meant, do you do charity auctions.  Often.  Like this."

The sound he made in response was something like a strangled whinny.

It matched the sound she was making in her head quite well, actually.

"Forget I said anything," she muttered, raising a hoof to press an aching spot between her brow. "Please."

The owner came back—Golden was much too important for a mere server to attend her—and greeted them both with a bright, insincere smile.  "Have we decided on something for today?"

Golden glanced at Forest, trying to assess his readiness.  Had he even looked at the menu?

He gave a small shrug and an attempt at a smile.  "Whatever you recommend is fine."

Her ears perked. "If you're certain." She leaned back into her seat and smiled up at the owner.  "My companion will have the pain au chocolat and a citron pressé. I will take a plain crepe and some sparkling water, merci."

"Very good, Mademoiselle!  I will have it to you tout de suite."  The owner bobbed her head as she took the menus and hurried off again.

Golden realized, idly, that she didn't know the owner's name.

She didn't care.

"So, um, what did you order for me?"

She flashed him one of her winning smiles.  "A chocolate croissant and a Prench lemonade.  You'll love it."

Forest idly drew his hoof along the edge of the table. "Oh."

They returned to the tentative companionship they'd found in not speaking.  It was good that he didn't seem to mind that she was being a terrible date.

Of course, just getting to be with her was its own reward, wasn't it?  Not many common stallions could say they'd had breakfast with Golden.

And, she thought with no mild dismay, lunch.  And dinner.

A long day laid ahead of them, it seemed.

She shook herself from the dread that clung to her flanks and planned her second attempt at small talk. Think through her words, consider any implications, and—

"What do you normally do after breakfast?" Forest asked, not meeting her gaze.

Golden blinked.  He was going to speak first?  That was a pleasant surprise.  "It differs from day to day, of course.  It depends on my social obligations, or where might prove most valuable for my career and image."

"Oh," was all he said in a small, almost disappointed voice.

Something crawled up the back of her neck.  Irritation? Indignation?

"What do you think I do?"  She kept her lips from curling into a sneer.  "Spend whole days at the spa?  Sit in luxurious dresses and drink fine wine?"

The look he gave her told her that her tone was getting dangerously offensive, so she did her best to imitate a playful laugh.

"If only I could," she continued with forced cheer.  "No, I'm afraid my career requires that I maintain a constant image."

The owner came back with their plates, and she flashed a grateful smile that was, for once, sincere. Food meant an excuse to stop talking.

Forest watched as a tall glass of ice, a pitcher of water, and a little bowl of sugar cubes were set in front of him.  He watched with clear confusion as the mare squeezed an entire lemon into the glass, chirped her desire for them to enjoy, and trotted off.

When he started to lift the glass for a sip, Golden's magic flared to set it back down.  He squeaked, "Huh?"

"Do you prefer pure lemon juice?" She quirked a brow.

His head shook just slightly.  "No, but, isn't this the see-tro press-ay that you ordered for me?"

Golden almost laughed. She raised a hoof to gesture at the pitcher and sugar.  "It is a citron pressé, and it's incomplete.  Think of it as a deconstructed lemonade."  When he just stared, she hesitantly clarified, "As in, do-it-yourself?"

"What?"  His nose scrunched up.  "You pay to mix your own lemonade?"

"That's how it's done in Prance."  She dismissed his confusion with a wave of one hoof.  "It ensures it's as fresh as can be, and you get to decide how tart or sweet you want it."

He nodded, though his expression was still skeptical.  His gaze flicked up to her meal and the skepticism was replaced with curiosity. "Is that all you're going to eat?"

"I have a figure to keep," she explained simply as she cut a tiny triangle out of the unadorned crepe.  As a filly, she would indulge in cream and strawberries and chocolate.  She was no longer a filly.

"Oh."  He nodded again and turned his attention to mixing water and sugar into his lemon juice.

While they ate and drank in silence that was only extremely awkward, Golden tried to plan ahead.  She needed a way to spend time with him that didn't require conversation, but what was available on short notice?  Shopping would likely be a bore.  The library?  Could she convince him that going to the library was a normal activity for her?

Her ears perked straight up as an idea struck her.  Oh, she was brilliant.  Devious, too.

"Next, we'll go to an art gallery," she said as casually as she could as she cut another piece off her crepe.

Forest looked up from his half-devoured chocolate croissant.  "An art gallery?"

"Yes."  She smiled, mostly to herself.  "I find it... relaxing."  And straightforward.  She'd been to so many art showings in her life that she had every line memorized.  Oh, what a lovely impressionist piece.  Aren't the brush strokes on this one spectacular?  This one is so evocative.  Truly, it makes one think.

"That sounds nice," he replied in a tone that sounded only barely convinced and every bit uncertain.

She waved a hoof. "Don't worry.  The curator owes me a favor.  We'll be undisturbed by paparazzi."

Whatever he had been nervous about, she realized it hadn't been that, because now he looked entirely unconvinced.  He audibly swallowed and mumbled, "Okay."  His gaze flicked over the plate and glasses and curled his forehooves against his chest.  "I'm, uh.  I'm ready whenever you are."

Golden blinked, then shrugged and downed the rest of her sparkling water.  She pretended it was champagne as it tickled the back of her throat. "Then, shall we?"

His head tilted as she rose from her seat and started to walk away.  "Don't we have to pay?"

"Pay?"  She laughed, shook her head, and kept walking. "Hardly."

The clattering of his hooves as he hurried to catch up almost made her laugh again. "Wow!  Wow.  You just get what you want for free?"

Her jaw twitched as she clenched her teeth to bite back the response that almost leapt forth. Nothing is free.  Instead, she replied, "There are, occasionally, perks to this life."

"Occasionally." He huffed, expression one of awe and wonder.  "It must be amazing..."

Far from it.  She swallowed the bitterness rising up from her chest and just kept moving forward.  The sooner they got to the gallery, the better.

"Hello!" a voice called from above, growing nearer.  "Ms. Golden Pants!"

Golden inclined her head to see a pegasus with a cross-chest satchel flying toward her.  "Oh, a courier."  She tossed her mane over her shoulder and looked at Forest with a bemused arch of one brow.  "This happens to me a lot."

Forest simply rounded his lips in understanding.

The courier landed on the ground and gave a bright, cheery smile.  "Your friend, Velvet Step, has gone into labor and—"

All conscious thought left Golden as she turned in the direction of the hospital and started to run.
> After
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

After her head cleared from panic—Velvet is having her foal today, I forgot that was going to be today, how could I forget something so important—Golden noticed the sound of hooves just behind her and she looked over her shoulder to see who was following.

Forest Shadow, despite his smaller frame, was keeping a good pace with her frantic, long-legged gait.

She almost stumbled over her own hooves in surprise at both the sight and her once-again forgetfulness.  But his expression was determined, if a little bit winded, and she didn't detect any desire in his eyes for her to stop.

So, she returned her gaze forward and intended to keep going—and then the courier landed in front of her, forcing her into a very sudden and very ungraceful stop.

"Whoa, slow down, ma'am!"  The courier shook out her wings as she laughed.  "I don't get paid to do half a job.  Your friend's at New Vale, and it looks like you're headed toward Bayhealth."

"Right."  Golden frowned at herself. Her forgetfulness was exceeding her tolerance; she would deal with it later, though.  "Thank you. Anything else?"

The courier looked at her expectantly.

Golden stared back.

The courier cleared her throat.

"She wants a tip," Forest supplied in a quiet voice at her side.

With a dramatic roll of her eyes, Golden held up a plaintive hoof.  "I left my bit purse at home, I'm afraid.  So sorry."  After receiving a dirty look and watching the courier fly off, she huffed.  "I have never understood the tipping culture."

Forest rubbed a hoof against the other leg, an apprehensive expression on his face.  "Because it's nice to be rewarded for hard work?"

"Hard work is, in and of itself, its own reward." She turned away and started to trot at a brisk pace in the direction of New Vale Hospital.  "If she wants to be paid more, then perhaps she should seek a different profession."

He didn't reply, and she felt the weight of his judgment as though her necklace had shrunk in size.  She would make no apologies for the truth.

The rest of the hurried walk carried on in silence. That was, she thought, going to be the prevailing interaction between them: a lack of any at all.

When they reached the hospital, Golden couldn't make it to the receptionist before a familiar face swooped in to grab her by the shoulders and exclaim, "Velvet's having a baby!"

Golden's lips parted in an unbidden smile. "Hello, Nightingale."

The tawny brown pegasus giggled an almost manic sound. "Forget the pleasantries, you gorgeous oaf!  Scream with me!"

"Please don't," a nurse said as she passed by, but a grin wriggled its way onto her face.

Nightingale giggled again and leaned in to wrap her forelegs around Golden's neck, then abruptly pulled back.  "Oh, sorry, sir!"  She tugged Golden with her off to the side.  "Move, we're in the way."

"Oh, uh."  Forest's voice huffed a shaky laugh.  "I'm with her, actually?"

Golden's ear flicked back toward him, but she kept looking at Nightingale, who had an understandable amount of confusion on her face. "It's a long story.  He is, indeed, with me."

"Huh.  Well, okay."  Nightingale shrugged it off and returned to squealing, "A baby!"

With a cool smile, Golden allowed her gaze to drift over the faces in the waiting room.  Who was there for Velvet, and who was a stranger coincidentally there at the same time?

She wished she could say she knew what Velvet’s family looked like or who her friends were.  But their own friendship wasn’t nearly deep enough for such intimate knowledge of one another’s lives.

"Who's having a baby?" Forest asked, sounding and looking as awkward as Golden was certain he felt.

Golden let out a sigh and put a hoof on Nightingale's chest to push her away.  "Give me a moment or two, would you?"  She flashed the smile everypony expected her to have.

"Oh."  Nightingale glanced between them, then nodded.  "Sure!  We're just over here."  She gestured over to where a group of ponies sat together before bounding off to join them. "Can't wait for the mama-to-be to get here!"

Ah.  So those were her loved ones, then?  Golden's gaze lingered longer than it should have. Velvet was blessed with so many of them.

In her mind, Golden drew the blanket tighter around herself.

Forest shifted, his movement drawing her attention back to him.  "So, the mother-to-be is... your friend?"

Golden released a heavy sigh and inclined her head to gesture for him to follow as she turned and walked back out the doors. The gust of fresh air drew a stark contrast against the sterility of the hospital.

"I apologize," she said, standing with her back to the doors that swung closed behind them.  "I forgot today was the day my friend is due."

"It's okay," he said, but she was certain his expression was one of disappointment.  She wouldn't look at him to confirm it.  "Who is she?"

Golden gave the slightest shake of her head. "She's not anypony you would know, I imagine."

"Oh."  The surprise in his voice caught her off guard.

She finally chanced a glance down at him. "Oh?"

His ears perked straight up.  "I mean, uh, not oh?  Ah! Eh..."  He scuffed a hoof against the cobblestone. "I don't know what I meant.  I guess I just expected you to be friends with other famous ponies?"

"Famous ponies?"  Her lips drew into a tight line.  "Other models? Hardly.  We don't befriend one another."

"Why not?"

Though she opened her mouth to reply, she had no answer. Why not, indeed?  Because it simply wasn't that way.  She didn't know why, but that was how it had always been, and how it always would be.

Perhaps it was because, under the layers of makeup and jewelry and gowns, none of them were real.

"I do have a famous friend," she said instead, returning her gaze to anywhere but his face.  The last thing she wanted to see was his eyes light up at the mention of her name.  She didn't want to hear about how good she was, how kind and selfless she was, everything that Golden wasn't.  "Crystal Wishes."

There was a pause filled only with the bitter pound of her heart.

And, then:  "Who?"

The question started a laugh out of her and she looked at him to see his expression was genuine.

Golden tried to not look as relieved as she felt. "Crystal is... a dear friend, now."  The relief faded, taken over by a swirl of fondness and guilt.  "It wasn't always so, but I owe her a great deal."

"And Velvet?" Forest asked.

Without a second thought, she replied, "Crystal's friend."

The blanket grew tighter before she imagined it more like a fortress, instead.  Stone walls.  A drawn bridge.  Isolation.  Safety.

"Oh."  She watched as his brow drew into a tight knit before he smiled.  "So you met her through Crystal."

"In a sense, yes.  That is the gist of it." Golden shook her head and stood at her full height, angled to best capture her features in the sunlight.  "I'm afraid I will have to part ways with you here."

He swallowed. "I—What?"

The words continued as if they'd been rehearsed. Perhaps, in a way, they were.  How many times in her life had she made excuses like this?

"It's unfortunate, and I do sincerely regret the inconvenience, but I will see to it that you are refunded your bits." She forced the smile onto her face as she looked at him.

He didn't look back at her.  He just stared at somewhere off in the distance, brow furrowed, lips pursed.

There was no need to drag him further into awkwardness, so she turned away and walked back into the hospital.  Her day to play the role of a good pony was cut short.  He would tell his friends about how she'd snubbed him, and word would circle back to her.

She forgot her own friend's labor.

Left him, not even halfway through the day.

Is anypony surprised, though?

Just Be Golden was just a publicity stunt, after all.

She stood there, at the threshold between the walkway and the waiting room.  Nightingale sat with several other ponies who all looked her way as soon as she walked in.

Disappointment crossed their faces.  They had been hoping she was Velvet.

Disappointment.

The walls of her fortress doubled in height, and the moat doubled in width.

Hoofsteps approached and, unconsciously, she mumbled an apology and stepped out of the way.  She saw a forest green coat and, just as she started to shift her attention elsewhere, her gaze snapped back to get a better look.

Forest stood there, his head held submissively low, a shy half-smile on his muzzle.  "Hi."

"Hel—lo?"  She arched one brow. "Did you get lost?"

"No, I, uh."  He shuffled his hooves, took a deep breath, and straightened up.  "You seem like you need a friend?"  His ears flicked back and his eyes went wide.  "Not that—Not that I'm presuming I can be your friend!  Just, you know, a friend."

Golden's nostrils flared as she snorted.  "I have friends."

He took a stuttered step back.  "Of course!  Right! Yes, no, of course you do.  It just sounded like."  He swallowed audibly.  "Like maybe you didn't right now."

Irritation twitched the muscles along her sides, and her tail lashed to try to flick it away.

I heard he took pity on her.

How sad!  How embarrassing!

Poor little Au.  No friends, so she has to turn to a stranger.

Well, dear, you can either have friends or not. It’s up to you.

"Fine!" she said, a little louder than necessary. "But this isn't a part of the auction.  I'm here for Velvet, not to entertain you."  As she walked away from him and into the waiting room proper, she felt a smile start to grow.

Forest scrambled to follow after her.  "That's okay!"

Nightingale looked up as they approached and squealed. "A baby!"

"Yes, I gathered that," Golden said, sitting across from her.  "Where is Velvet, anyway?"

An older mare seated nearby stopped mid-knitting to look over at them.  "Knowing my granddaughter, she's likely being deliberately slow to annoy her mother."

"That's my girl," an old stallion gruffed.

Another mare raised her hoof.  "I'm sorry, but are we just going to ignore the fact that Miss Golden is sitting with us?"

"Who?"  The old stallion eyed Golden warily. "The posh one that looks like a magazine cover?"

Golden challenged his snort with a smile.  "Thank you."

"Wasn't a compliment," he muttered.

Her smile didn't falter.  "Nor was I sincere."

There was a pause before he snorted a laugh and grinned. "All right, I like her.  She can stay."

Without missing another beat, the group eased back into their conversation as if Golden weren't there. Or, perhaps, as if she had been there the whole time.

In half an hour, Golden had memorized everypony's relation to Velvet, just on the off-chance it became important.

After an hour, High Horse arrived.  Forest, for some reason, was able to notice the sudden tension in Golden's posture at the mare's arrival, and gave her an encouraging smile.

Golden didn't want to talk about it.

He didn't ask.

Strangely, that eased her nerves.

It wasn't long before conversations died out and uncertainty started to manifest as a palpable buzz in the air.  The clicking of Berry Stitch's knitting needles marked each passing second.  Nightingale couldn't stop assaulting every pony who walked by with squeals about foals.

Golden paced up and down the rows of chairs in the waiting room, each step landing to punctuate an anxious thought.

What if something had gone wrong?

What if the cart broke down?

What if Velvet had gone into labor right then and there?

What if—

"Hey," Forest's voice cut through the noise. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she muttered, pausing to look at him. "I'm trying to determine how soon after giving birth a new mother can be slapped for making everypony wait and worry."

"Why don't you, uh, tell me about her?" Forest gestured at the empty seat beside him.  "To pass the time."

Golden rolled her eyes and resumed pacing.  She was passing the time just fine on her own.  She needed to get her steps in for the day, anyway.

Then, in a quiet voice, he asked, "Please?"

Her hooves stopped and she looked at him with open surprise before she shuttered her expression.  "If you're bored, you don't have to stay."

With a wince, he pressed back into his seat.  "Do you want me to leave?"

"That's what ponies do," she snapped before she could think better of it.

There was a pause, and then he straightened up and looked her square in the eyes, determination on his face she hadn't thought possible for him.  "I won't."

You are in charge of your destiny.

Slowly, she stepped over toward him.  The fortress didn't seem as inviting as having somepony to talk to. For a little while, at least.

"We went to elementary school together," Golden began in a low voice, glancing over at the group of Velvet's family and friends.  "She made friends with Crystal, and I loathed the both of them."  Her lips tightened into a thin line before she sighed.  "The war changed things."

When she fell silent, he just waited patiently but intently.

She swallowed around a lump in her throat.  "My father left under the belief that he should do good.  'Those who can, should.'  He's always said that."

And, yet, it had never sunk in.  Not like her mother's voice.

"But he's the only pony I have." She winced and dropped her head to avoid his gaze.  "The only pony who believes in me despite all evidence to the contrary. Our last conversation was a fight, and—"

She sucked in a breath, trying to push down the tremble that had started in her right hoof.  "It forced me into Crystal's company, and she forced me into Velvet's.  But I'm not a fool.  They are one another's best friends.  My place is, at best, tertiary."

The trembling hoof shot out to gesture at the bedraggled group of tired and worried ponies.  "Were I in her situation," she continued, bitterness rising into her voice, "I wouldn't have them. I wouldn't have anypony.  Nopony would be here, waiting for me, worried for me."

"I don't think that's true," Forest said, his brow knit in a concerned furrow.

"Of course it is."  She glared at him.  Anger was easier than remorse.  It was warm and safe, not cold and strangling. "I have pushed away every pony in my life purposefully.  I can either have friends, or not, and I chose not."

Forest blinked a few times before he asked the question she knew he would, but hoped he wouldn't.  "Why?"

The anger wasn't strong enough.  It crumbled under the weight of so many lonely years coming back to her all at once.

"So that I can't be hurt," she replied with a slight tremor in her voice.

Logically, she knew it seemed illogical.  One pony hurt her feelings when she was still a foal, barely a young mare.  And, yet, it was more than that, wasn't it?

How many ponies had she let close to her, only to discover they were the source of the latest gossip stabbing her in the back?

How many mornings had she woken up alone after being told so many sweet nothings the night before?

How many times had she begged her father to reconsider going to war?

Nopony ever stayed.

Platinum, eventually, would leave her.  He was too good for her, and every day was just another chance for him to see it.

When Crystal's husband came home, she would return to being a happy little wife.

And now that Velvet was going to be a mother, their outings would be cancelled and forgotten.

None of them would stay.

A blurry green hoof came into view, holding a tissue. She recoiled from it and looked up to see Forest Shadow with a soft, sympathetic look on his face.

"I'm sorry," he said.

With a start, she realized that he had, despite her dismissal, stayed.

So she leaned against him and cried.
> All
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

All at once, Golden realized her mistake.

"What's wrong?" Nightingale's voice asked, full of concern and worry.

Golden pulled away from Forest, her head jerking to the side to look at Nightingale with as much scorn as her tear-streaked face could muster.  "I'm fine, thank you."

Nightingale blinked. "But you're crying."

"The stress of the continued wait for Velvet has worn thin on my emotions," Golden said, hurriedly wiping at her face with the back of her hoof.  "I'm feeling very volatile and would request to be left alone."

"But—"

"Please," Golden interrupted, more pleading than demanding, but grateful to at least keep her tone even under the weight of not only Nightingale's gaze, but the scrutiny of the entire waiting room.

They all had seen her weakness.  How was she supposed to recover from this?  Could she?

Nightingale retreated with reluctance, and Golden's ears twitched at every whisper.  The sound slithered through the air, coiling around her pounding heart and squeezing it tight.

They would gossip. The story would be exaggerated. She'd worked so hard for so long, and one moment of weakness was going to ruin her.

A hoof touched hers and she recoiled, twisting to face its owner, and scowling when she saw Forest's confused face.

"What are you still doing here?" she spat, tucking her hoof in toward her chest. "What do you want?"

Forest wilted into his seat, ears falling back into his mane.  "Huh?"

"I don't understand."  She practically threw herself out of her chair and started to pace again.  "I don't know why you're here.  I don't know what you want."

She felt his gaze follow her.  "I, um."  He got up, but didn't move to leave.  "I don't want anything, really.  I'm just here because I thought you wanted me to be."

With a loud clop of her hoof against the tile floor, Golden pivoted to face him.  Her mouth opened to let loose words—horrible words, ones she knew she'd regret later.

He looked back at her with genuine confusion on his face.  He didn't understand.

And, for once, she closed her mouth before a single sound escaped.  She looked away from him and resumed pacing; he took some glimmer of hope and sat back down.

It wasn't that she'd had a sudden revelation.  Her heart hadn't grown three sizes.  No lightbulb had miraculously flickered on and illuminated some kind of truth.

She was just tired.

Tired of the constant cycle of hurt, anger, loneliness.

Tired of pretending she had mental fortifications that protected her from that cycle, but only succeeded at perpetuating it.

Tired of wanting ponies to hear what she couldn't say, of wanting them to see what she couldn't show.

In the end, she knew that even when she pushed others away, the hurt still remained.  Unlike what her mother's voice had been telling her for so many years, it wasn't a matter of whether or not she wanted friends.  She always had, she just didn't know how.

So she continued to pace and accepted that Forest—for some unfathomable reason—continued to stay.

Another hour passed and her hooves were starting to ache, so she made a halfhearted attempt to socialize. Conversing with ponies she didn't care about was easy; she did it every day of her life.

"Hello," she said, wincing as soon as she spoke the dull word.

"It's okay, sweetie," the old mare cooed without looking up from the blanket she knitted together.  The seat to her right hosted several quadruplets of crochet booties, beanies, and bows.

"We're all worried and nervous," the stallion sitting beside her said, his lap full of yarn.

Leaning forward, a face she had forgotten would be there looked at her with a soft smile. "You can sit here, Golden." High Horse—Horsey patted the empty seat next to her.

It was hard to think of her as Horsey.  That was the name she had been given when she broke Golden's heart, abandoned her to instead be friends with Crystal and Velvet.

It was hard to nod, to walk over, to sit beside her.  To accept the offer from a mare she had neglected.  To try to smile at the friend she had lost.

But Golden was accustomed to things being difficult, so she sat with as much dignity as she always did. She tossed her mane over her shoulder and cleared her throat.

In a light, conversational tone, she asked, "Where is your husband?"

Horsey's ears perked. "Oh, he's with the foals.  My oldest—"

"Claire," Golden supplied without thinking.  It was proper to remember trivial details and supply them later to endear oneself over how thoughtful one was.

Golden then frowned at herself, at the voice in her head, at the earnest look of surprise on Horsey's face.

Then Horsey melted into a smile, her ears giving a happy little wiggle.  "Yes!  She's afraid of hospitals, though I don't have the faintest idea why.  But when she's afraid of something, Amoureuse is scared, too."  She sighed, but the sound was full of warmth and fondness.  "So Sav is watching them while I'm here."

Just a little bit, Golden hated Horsey.

She was everything her own mother had never been and would never be: sweet, kind, caring, compassionate. There was a seemingly endless depth to her love.

Deep down, Golden wanted to find where the limit was.  She wanted to see what it would take to get Horsey to hate her.  She wanted to hear her yell, to prove that Horsey wasn't better than her.

Instead, she smiled as best she could.  "I see."

Horsey's head inclined and she leaned forward to look past Golden.  "I think I missed introductions.  Who's your friend?"

Golden didn't follow her gaze.  "He's—"  A swell of petty bitterness rose up, and she straightened her posture.  "He's a fan of mine.  Actually, he bought my day in a charity auction."

The rapid series of blinks in response was thrilling.  Was Horsey trying to restrain her jealousy?  Would there be a crack in her facade?

"Oh," Horsey breathed out, and something crossed her expression that wasn't jealousy or envy or anything Golden wanted to see.

It was confusion. Concern.  Judgment.

"He chose to stay," Golden added a little too quickly.  "I offered to refund him, and of his own free will, he's remained here to be with me."

That was right. Somepony wanted to be in Golden's company.  She lifted her nose to lengthen her neck, to emphasize the difference in their heights as she looked down at Horsey.

He hadn't left her.

And, then, Horsey's ears started to droop and she slumped back into her seat.

"I wish you could just be happy," Horsey muttered, the earnest sadness in her voice like needles prickling the back of Golden's neck.  "Crystal said you'd changed, but..."

After a moment, Golden realized Horsey wasn't going to finish that thought because it wasn't necessary.

Golden hadn't changed at all, had she?

Something twisted and—sad coiled around her heart and she turned her head away, unable to look at Horsey's pitying eyes.

"Crystal lives in a rose-colored world," Golden replied with only halfhearted conviction.

Horsey sat up straight, and her chest puffed out with indignation. “That's not true!  She just chooses to see the roses for the thorns, but she knows they're there."  Her brow furrowed.  "Why would you speak like that about her?  I thought you were friends?"

Because Golden didn't have friends.  She just had ponies with misguided faith in her.

Something cracked and crumbled, and Golden felt her body sag as if the strings holding her together had been cut.  “I'm sorry," she muttered, closing her eyes.  "The stress of the wait is wearing me thin."

There was no response. She knew it was a lie, and she knew Horsey knew, too.

Then, to her surprise, Horsey pulled her into a tight hug.  An unladylike squawk escaped her at the sudden embrace, her eyes going wide as she stared down at the smaller mare.

"Please just be happy," Horsey said with a hitch in her voice.  Was she crying?

Why would Horsey cry? Had Golden offended her that greatly? She hadn't said anything worse than normal.  Horsey had always been a little more sensitive than most ponies, but this was ridiculous, even for her.

"It's all I've ever wanted for you."  Horsey pulled back and wiped at her eyes; she was definitely crying.  "I know our parents messed with our foalhoods, but that's so far behind us, isn't it?"

Golden swallowed, a strange lump in her throat, and turned her head away.  "You left yours behind when you moved.  I still live under my mother's shadow."

Horsey grabbed one of her hooves and squeezed it.  "Then why don't you move?"

"Absurd," she replied without giving the notion more than the barest of thoughts. "This is the only life I've ever known.  What would you have me become?  A quaint little country mare like you?"

"Of course not!" Horsey's face reddened. Embarrassment?  Frustration?  Anger? "There are other cities in Equestria!  You could move to Las Pegasus."

Golden blinked. "Las Pegasus?"

The city that never slept, full of glitz and glam, magic and mystery.  Briefly, Golden envisioned it: a show of her own, a stage that belonged only to her.  Her name in lights.

Golden blinked, again. "I—"

"They're here!" somepony squealed, and Golden's gaze snapped to the glass doors, through which she saw a familiar pink-and-mauve figure wobbling their way with a small entourage.

All other thought was shoved aside.  She focused all of her swirling emotions—confusion, irritation, disbelief, wonder, exhaustion—into a single channel: indignation.

Golden practically threw herself out of the seat before anypony else could so much as lift a hoof, and she marched right up to the doors to greet Velvet with a snarl that felt so good to wear.  It was a mask that hid everything else behind a single note of anger.

"Velvet Step, you better have a phenomenally good reason to explain your well-past-fashionably late arrival to your own labor!"

Velvet nearly tripped over her own hooves in her attempt to escape.  And then she did trip, landing on her rump and holding up her forehooves as if to shield herself from Golden's ire.

"Hey, whoa, calm down! I'm here now, right?"

There was something about Velvet that soothed Golden's frayed nerves, that brought out a strange openness that she couldn't hide even with a perfectly placed mask.

She tossed her mane over one shoulder, a gesture that usually gave her confidence, but fondness bled into her voice as she asked, "Do you realize how worried I've been?"

"Worried?" Velvet's hooves lowered to reveal the grin that normally occupied her muzzle.  "Aw, Goldypants, you do like—" She dropped her hooves to her stomach and doubled over, straining to finish saying, "—me."

Velvet's mother ran in a panicked circle.  "Yes, yes, yes."  She nudged Velvet up onto her hooves and glanced around.  "We can deal with friends later, for now can we please get my daughter to a room?"

Golden tried to assess Velvet's condition.  She was sweating and breathing heavily, pain written all over her face.

A quiet voice asked, "Is this who we've been waiting for?"

What had kept Velvet from coming sooner?  She was a stubborn mare, but not without reason.  Something had happened.

"Oh my Celestia," Velvet exclaimed.  "Golden, is this your stallionfriend?!"

"Who?" Golden asked reflexively, then felt all her muscles go rigid as she glanced down at Forest, who stood just behind her.

What was he still doing there?  Why had he come over?  Did he want her to introduce him, as though he were a permanent fixture in her life? Was that his plan all along?

The moat within her mind was murky with doubt and suspicion, and she felt its dark depths settle in her chest like a heavy weight.

Celestia's sake, she was such a broken mare.

Velvet was still looking at her, expectantly, eagerly.  Golden schooled her expression back into place.  "What?  No!" She cleared her throat to loosen her vocal chords that had grown tight with emotion.  "No, no.  This is Forest Shadow.  He won my time for a day in a charity auction."

Still standing behind her, Forest gave a meek, "Hi."

"Wait." Velvet was grinning, a wicked thing that showed too much teeth to be proper.  She looked past Golden, ignoring her in favor of gracing Forest with her rapt attention.  "You bid on a day with Golden, and she's making you spend it in the hospital?"

Golden rolled her eyes. This was all irrelevant.  Velvet needed to get herself to the maternity ward. "Oh, don't make me out to be a villain.  It's not my fault the days collided.  Besides."  Her eyes slid back to Forest, and pinned him with a smile that showed just enough teeth under a perfect curve of her lips.

He ducked, as though unworthy.  The reaction amused her more than she'd care to admit.

"We've had a lovely time, haven't we?"  Her eyes dared him to disagree.

He didn't look at her, didn't see the threat.  Instead, he swallowed and replied, "Well, it's been, uh, different than I imagined."  Then he looked up and was spellbound without an ounce of magic.  Just as she hoped he would, he melted on the spot. "Different is good, though."

"Exactly." She returned her focus to Velvet, where it belonged, and waved a hoof to dismiss the conversation.  "Now, run along before you give your mother a heart attack."

Velvet's mother exclaimed with an unrefined squawk, "I think I'm on my third already!"  Her hoof grabbed onto one of Velvet's and dragged her away.  "Nurse!"

Golden made no move to follow or turn away from the doors.  Crystal walked right past her with eyes only for Velvet, worry etched into her soft features.  It stung, being ignored, but it was nothing new.  Velvet always came first for Crystal.  At best, Golden could claim fifth place.

Everypony left to migrate to the maternity ward's waiting room.  Golden just stood there, watching their retreating reflections in the glass door; Forest remained at her side, glancing between the crowd and her.

"Shouldn't we follow them?" he asked, and took a tentative step forward as if to show her how.

"No."  She swallowed and pushed the door open with her magic.  "No, I think not."

Forest made a sound in his throat that was clearly an aborted attempt to argue with her. Instead, he just nodded and followed behind her as she walked out of the hospital.

The sun shone through a light scattering of clouds, and the air was warm and fresh and felt good in her lungs as she breathed it in.

"I don't understand," Forest said, walking alongside her as she continued moving forward, away from the hospital.  "Don't you want to be here?  With your friend?"

"Not right now." She didn't look at him.  She didn't want to see his face; judgment would be waiting for her there.  He was too open, too earnest.  She both admired it and hated it.  "There is still plenty of time before she actually goes into labor."

Forest gave a breathy sort of laugh.  "Really? To be honest, I don't know much about this stuff.  Or, well, anything except the obvious."

Golden spied a bench overlooking a small garden and angled herself toward it.  The scent of lilacs drifted on the breeze before she spotted the purple flowers.  Her nose tipped upward in a silent acknowledgement of their presence.

"I hate repeating myself, but why are you still here?"  She sat down, patting the spot beside her for him to sit. "Surely there are better ways for you to spend your day."

Forest was quiet as he gave the question careful consideration, then summed up his feelings with a small shrug and sat down.  "It just seems like the right thing to do."

Golden pondered all the ways she could make him want to leave, but little seemed to faze him.  He kept seeing through her, and she was somehow both grateful for it and hated it.

The silence was almost companionable.  She almost felt at ease.  Was it possible to feel this way all the time, she wondered?

"I don't," Forest blurted out so suddenly that Golden nearly jumped off the bench.  She looked over to see him wringing his hooves and pointedly avoiding her eyes.

She sighed and inclined her head to look up at few strokes of wispy clouds that drifted high above.  "Don't, what?"

"I don't have better ways to spend my day.  And I don't do this.  Pay mares to be with me, like you said.  Ever." Forest sucked in a breath. "I've just struggled a lot with dating because I'm so nervous, and mares don't seem to find that cute, so I thought if I went on a date with the most beautiful mare in Equestria, that I'd be less nervous with regular mares."

Golden blinked a few times as the words settled in before she broke into an undignified laugh that surprised even her.  "That actually makes perfect sense!"

"In theory, but not in practice!"  Forest huffed and scrunched up his nose.  "I don't think I'll ever be able to go on a date after this, because I messed this up so much."

"You messed this up? Darling, I'm the one who made a terrible mess of things."

Forest's head jerked to the side and he looked up at her with wide eyes.

Golden waited a moment before frowning.  "What did I do now?"

"You called me darling," he squeaked.

After a thoughtful pause, Golden replied slowly and carefully, "Yes. That is what ponies in my social circles call one another. Do they not in yours?"

Forest gave a small, meek shake of his head.

She sighed, raising a hoof and rubbing a tight circle into her temple.  "I'm sorry."  With a grunt, she slid from the bench and turned to face him.  "Go home, Forest.  Allow me to make all of this up to you with a do-over tomorrow.  May I pick you up at your place in the morning to try again?"

His mouth hung agape as he blinked rapidly.  "What?"

"Most ponies would die for me to ask it once."  She tried not to smirk.  "I won't ask again.  I do so hate repeating myself."

A quick shake of his head brought him out of his stupor, and then he nodded just as quickly. "Yes!  Of course!  I'll try to be less—"

She raised a hoof to press it to his lips.  "Don't be less.  Be more confident, if you must, but never be less."

Without a word, he just nodded again.

"Good."  Her hoof shifted to cup his jaw, angled his head, and she leaned in, placing a chaste kiss on one cheek.  "Thank you for today."

Forest's mouth flapped open and closed a few times with unintelligible sounds.  Golden just laughed, patted the other cheek, and withdrew to start walking back to the hospital.

"Wha—Wait!"

She halted, turning her head to look at him out of the corner of one eye.  "Yes?"

He took a deep breath in and held it.  The gears of his mind clicking and grinding were visible in the tight draw of his brow until he breathed out, "I think you're a good pony and I enjoyed getting to know you so thank you for being honest with me instead of just putting on airs all day."

Golden blinked a few times as she processed this.  Then, she smiled once his words settled in, beams of light illuminating the moat's dark water.

Perhaps—not in a big, grand way; not in a way that shone brightly in her every action; but in just enough of a way that mattered to somepony—she was good, after all.