> The Exes Club
>  by MarvelandPonder
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> 1: Gone in a Flash
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Flash Sentry tapped out a speedy rhythm with his heel. To the untrained ear, he had to assume it sounded like impatience or inattention—and in all fairness, he’d seen Rainbow Dash off her Ritalin; the resemblance was striking—but that’s because the untrained ear didn’t hear him counting out measures or inventing lyrics in his head. On any given day in class, he had at the very least one song stuck in his head, begging to be let out, but on days spent steeped in stress, days like today, the music all but performed a prison-break. 

Amnesty Hospital’s waiting room wasn’t the worst place to be trapped indefinitely. The ultra-modern renovations made reception seem more like the lobby of a fancy, upscale hotel, the kind Flash dreamed of checking into and out of while on tour. Ambiance could use some work, but the staff was five stars.

A muscle-bound colossus of a nurse pushed an empty stretcher through the waiting room, but stopped to give an entirely too specific series of fist-bumps to Rainbow Dash. “Daring Dash! Ey, how’s that shoulder holding up?”

Despite herself, Dash snickered and reciprocated their secret handshake. “Heh! Still makes that weird clicking noise!” All the same, her enthusiasm dimmed at high speeds. The stitches slicing through her left eyebrow made it difficult to furrow her brow. Instead, she leaned to look past him and palmed her fist, as if breaking in a catcher’s mitt. “Uh, hey, Thalamus, do you know how my friends are holding up back there? Can I see them yet?”

The nurse shook his head and clapped her shoulder. “Sorry, Double D. Gonna have to wait.” 

As he wheeled the empty stretcher through some swinging double doors, Rainbow let loose a blustery sigh culminating in a thundery grumble. “Sure. Wait. Right.”

She slumped down in the upholstered seat next to Flash and he knew exactly how she felt. A weight had been hugging his chest for somewhere over an hour, when it became just the two of them. That didn’t mean he wanted her to have to feel it. “Hey. You want to go find Pinkie? I can stay here and text you when we can see the others.”

“No... maybe.” Rainbow’s head lolled over the back of the chair so she could give him a suspicious look. “What’s she doing?”

“Last I checked, stress-cheering up kids. It would probably really make their day to hang out with two real-life superheroes. Plus it would give you something else to do besides wait for hours on end.” He raked his hand through his pomade-coated hair, which was better than testing out the kick-drum beat in his head on the nearby potted ficus. 

For a solid moment there, she looked like she would raise up out of her seat and go chasing after Pinkie Pie and the kids (who she would no doubt make honorary Rainbooms), but then something solid resolved in her bright pink eyes. Rain pattered against the window by her head. “Thanks for the offer, but I think I’m gonna chill here. This might sound kinda crazy, but I don’t want to be anywhere else right now.”

He shared a smile full of meaning. “Yeah. We’re crazy.”

Passing the time was a bit easier with the flatscreen running the news, but Flash wished they’d change the channel. Local newscaster, Good Tomorrow, prattled on in a deeply resonant, well enunciated voice as if he had every authority on the shockingly major and majorly shocking developments out of the downtown core today: a group of ne’er-do-well, vigilante girls incited a fellow bad actor to attack their fair city, to disastrous results.

B-roll footage of the city park razed and in ruin underscored his voiceover. Twin ruts burned into the mud, originating from the footprints of a pair of name-brand sneakers. A statue of town founder Apple Seed sank into the grass, as if it had been tossed aside by the indent of what looked like handprints at the head. Shaky-cam that had clearly been taken on a bystander’s phone caught Twilight sprinting and panting as she fiddled furiously with a high-tech, geode-powered gauntlet. Before she could use it, a blast from off-screen forced the camera-person to whip away their phone.

The next shot of Good Tomorrow had him reporting live on scene, because the sky above the town had a startling new feature. A jagged crack marred the city skyline where a portal had been torn open. The girls had managed to close it, but the sky still looked like a stitched-up wound in space-time that hadn’t fully healed yet.

Good Tomorrow stood camera-left to show off the rift behind him on camera-right. “As you can see, we’re experiencing quirky weather patterns that produce an optical illusion that the sky is broken. If you ask this reporter, a fitting coincidence on the day our fair town has been criminally vandalized. Resilient as ever, onlookers have gathered to take pictures under this beautiful wonder of nature.”

Flash nearly cursed out loud. The good thing was this was only local news, and asking his dad to do him a solid could easily get the story off-air. Being the son of the Canterlot City police chief Flash Magnus occasionally had its advantages. But the photos? The phone footage of Twilight? This was getting dangerously out of hand. Out of their control. All it would’ve taken would be for that kid with the phone footage to go to any major network, or spread it online before they could put in an anonymous copyright strike, and boom. The whole world would know magic existed. 

Sunset Shimmer would be the world’s first otherworldly invader. The girls would have their normal teenage lives taken from them by force. That is, if some shady, clandestine government operation didn’t take them in for questioning first. Assuming they hadn’t been seriously hurt today. Assuming they’d be in class on Monday. Assuming he was worried over nothing right now.

He shook his head. One problem at a time. 

A whistling from the entrance thankfully caught his attention. A young dude swaggered in with his hands in the pockets of a woodsy, sheepskin bomber jacket. He hadn’t even bothered to put on pants and instead chose to rock flannel PJ bottoms with little green alien heads patterned all over them. When he leaned over the reception desk, he dug a small candy packet out of his pocket. “Good evening, ma’ams! Word on the street is someone here might have a bit of a sweet-tooth. Anybody like gummy griffins?”

As the receptionists giggled, Rainbow Dash sat up beside Flash and grinned. “Timber Spruce? Dude! Took ya long enough!”

Flash frowned as she raced over. “Did he stop on his way to get snacks?”

Timber’s easy-breezy summertime smile brightened when he saw Rainbow coming over. “Hey there, hero! Heard you girls had a tough day in the office.”

Rubbing the back of her neck, which was no doubt whiplashed from the sheer velocity she’d been racing at earlier that day, Dash let out a sigh of a laugh. “Uh, yeah, you could say that. They won’t let us see the rest of the girls yet.”

“We’ve been waiting for hours now,” Flash informed him, guarding his expression. Mostly for Timber’s sake. The last thing Flash wanted to do was pick a fight when their friendship experts were supposed to be getting their rest, but at least internally, he had to admit he didn’t like the vibes coming off this kid. So… casual. 

“Well, great. It sounds like I haven’t missed anything exciting then.” He left the gummy candies on the desk, then tapped on the bag with a wink. “That’s Sparkle with one k. Make sure she has the best room, okay?”

He turned back to Dash and assumed a sergeant's stance, with his posture straight and his hands behind his back. “Alright, soldier. What's the status update?”

From her time in the air force cadets, Dash clearly knew how to give a proper salute. “Last I heard, Applejack’s getting patched up. Mostly just a sprained ankle, but she also has a wicked shiner I’m maybe a little jealous of. Pinkie’s off warming up her cheer-up skills until she can see the others. Not a scratch on her. Kinda freaky. Same with Flutters, so she volunteered to go tell everybody’s ‘rents ‘cause she can probably break it to them the best without getting us all grounded. I kinda think she offered so she could go hug a bunny or something.”

Timber nodded. “The Fashionista?”

“Out cold when I carried her in,” Dash muttered. Dark storm clouds drifted in over her gaze and Flash couldn’t blame her. “Doc told me she’d be just fine. No head trauma or anything, so that’s good, it just looked scarier than it was. I’ve seen Rarity fake fainting all the time and I know she’s always pale, but… wow, you know? Turns out she’s a super bad actor. All that is nothing like the real thing.” She grunted, shaking her head. “It all happened so fast. If I hadn’t rushed in like a total idiot, she’d be fine. Maybe everybody would…”

Flash grimaced, and not just because he sat back down in a stiff waiting room chair. “Yeah, it’s… it’s pretty bad. But you don’t have to worry. I mean, the girls are in good hands now, so everything’s going to be alright? When all this is over, we’re all going to have a good laugh, right?”

Saying something he didn’t entirely believe didn’t feel as reassuring as he’d hoped. He’d never been a particularly compelling public speaker; anything he could put together paled in comparison to the friendship speeches Twilight, Sunset, or, heck, even Rainbow Dash could give.

But at the moment Rainbow Dash didn’t seem to have many inspiring pep-talks. She clutched her side again, a move he kept catching her do when she thought it wouldn’t get noticed. It was like today had beaten the fight out of her, and she was doing everything she could not to let it show, but then, there was only so long she could hide.

That was why Flash didn’t get how Timber couldn’t see that. He didn’t get Timber. He should’ve known these girls almost as well as Flash did by now, right? Couldn’t he feel it in the air? Couldn’t he see the defeat in Rainbow’s eyes? And yet the guy strolled in, hair all windswept and wild like he’d just come back from a day of surf and sand at the beach. 

It wasn’t like Flash had any problem with handsome guys. The not-quite-rugged mountain man handsomeness wasn’t even the problem here, nor the lithe and tall swimmer’s bod. He just didn’t trust anyone who only pretended to care about the girls. After what happened, he had every reason to get protective, and yeah okay, he’d never be able to protect them from the scary stuff. Today made that abundantly clear. But he could at least ward off jerks who made jokes in hospital waiting rooms.

Timber hooked an arm around Rainbow’s shoulders, because of course he hadn’t picked up on how tender her side was. “Hey. How fast you think you were going on your way in here? Bet you broke some kind of record, huh?”

Seriously? Flash thought. That’s what you heard from all that? Dude.

Dash grinned, a laugh bucking out of her. “Hey, yeah! I blasted across the whole city! I ran so fast I probably phased through an ambulance on the way! It’s sorta hard to tell when I go fast enough.”

Timber pointed at her. “Terrifying, but that’s the single coolest thing I’ve ever heard. Dangerous beyond all belief, but cool.”

“Only way I roll when my friends need me,” she said, smirking. At least Rainbow Dash knew how to deal with this clown, but Flash wasn’t sure he wanted the other girls to have to put up with Timber’s comedy routine when they were still recovering. 

The loud crackling of a plastic package caught his attention as Timber chewed on some more of his gummies and offered them to Dash and Flash. “Hungry?”

Flash frowned, holding up a hand. “Nah, man. I’m good.”

Dash chomped her way through some innocent gummy griffons as if they’d personally been disloyal to her. Flash did have to admit, it was probably good for her to eat something, even if Timber literally couldn’t have picked anything with less nutritional value. Ironically, Spruce was technically taking better care of his friends than Flash was. Great. Insult to injury—an injury he couldn’t even help heal.

The sound of combat boots dragging across the floor interrupted their late dinner.

Sunset Shimmer stumbled into the waiting room looking like she’d challenged the sky to a fist fight and lost to a lightning bolt. Her signature leather jacket was singed and frayed, angry red marks criss-crossed the skin he could see, and she stared ahead in a shell-shocked daze.

Rainbow Dash erupted to her feet and Flash followed suit. Unlike him, Dash seemed to know what to do, and took Sunset’s arm around her shoulders, as if a solider helping her injured commander. “Whoa! Hey, earth to Sunshim. You okay? You don’t look like you’re doing so hot.”

Flash held out his arms awkwardly, thinking it might be helpful in case she fell over, but not quite sure what direction she would fall even if she did. “Do you wanna sit down? Maybe you should sit down. You look like you wanna sit down.”

Timber raised an eyebrow. “Is that supposed to be subliminal messaging?”

Sunset held her head and groaned, which made Flash’s heart drop in his chest. If Sunset hit her head—if this time she’d done some serious damage—he didn’t want to think about all the ways she could be hurt or worse, and it didn’t help that she was swaying to stay on her feet. 

She opened her shallow teal eyes and grimaced. “Sweet Celestia, I screwed up.”
> 2: Into the Sunset
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Flash Sentry had seen Sunset in bad shape before. A lot, actually. There’d been other battles, other close calls. Missed bills and cold nights. Times when she was still at her worst where her anger, bitterness, and regret seemed to build up as a poison in her chest.

Even just physically, he’d seen her look pretty rough. After every summer away from CHS, she came back entirely too thin and she looked like a child playing dress-up in her leather jacket. Her features were too sharp. Too harsh. Ill-fitting. He logically knew what two and a half months of not knowing where your next solid meal would be could do, but it was always so much worse than he expected. Thankfully she’d fill back out in record time every year, and the past summer had been the best yet since she’d finally been humbled enough to get a summer job and had friends’ families inviting her over more often than not. At one point, Flash legitimately started thinking she’d moved in with the Sparkles.

Yeah, sure, it couldn’t be healthy for her to gorge on sweets and junk when she was stressed (not that he could blame her; she’d told him once about the castle chefs in her homeworld, and if Flash had access to freshly baked key lime pies on a whim, he’d probably develop a wicked sweet tooth, too), but regardless, he’d rather see her indulging in a few too many pizza nights than rail-thin and stealing to eat. It meant she was okay. 

He couldn’t say the same now.

Sunset had buried her face in her hands ten minutes ago and hadn’t been all that responsive since—which was somehow so much worse than the grumbling grousing he’d expected. Rainbow Dash let her be, which maybe was a good sign, but then again, he hadn’t known the athlete to push for big, emotional heart-to-hearts.

Timber had gotten up to fend off a call from Gloriosa, bending back from the phone when she talked at him. Not that Flash wanted to eavesdrop, but from the sounds of it, Timber hadn’t bothered to tell his sister he was even leaving the campgrounds before heading to a hospital six towns over. Because of course he hadn’t, that would be too considerate. “No, no, slow down, I’m fine, Gloriosa, it’s okay. I’m all in one piece! Two feet and a heartbeat! … Yes, I have on clean underwear…”

He saw himself out at that point. But at least with Timber out of earshot, Flash felt more comfortable trying to talk about things seriously. 

“So… uh.”

Or try to, at the very least.

Sunset didn’t move from her hands. She spoke into them. “You’d all be so much better off without me.”

Now that got Rainbow Dash to pay attention. “What? Are you serious right now? We’d be creamed without you! Our magic isn’t as powerful when we’re not all together. You saw us out there. If you weren’t there today, we’d all be as good as dead!”

“I’m not just talking about today,” Sunset told her, and Flash didn’t like the sound of her voice. It wasn’t just that she sounded a bit worn out, or tired from a hearty magical battle. Sunset had a low, dull deadness to her tone and he knew she meant every word. “I brought magic here. I got the girls hurt. I put everyone in danger. Even when I’m not a raging she-demon, I can’t protect the closest thing I’ve ever had to a family from the rogue magic I unleashed. I can’t even do that right.”

That stung deep in his chest. He’d always known Sunset to put too much on her own shoulders—whether it was a mountainside castle and a grand destiny, or the lives and well-being of the ones she loved. Even if he was used to it, that didn’t make this any easier to stomach.

“Sunset, you can’t blame yourself for everything that ever goes wrong in this world.” He hoped her sassy side wouldn’t retort that she’d been doing a pretty good job of that so far, because he really wouldn’t know how to refute that. She had done a truly excellent job of blaming herself. She’d even done some extra credit and blamed herself for things from other worlds. Leaning forward in the chair across from hers, he shook his head. “Some things just aren’t on you, you know?”

“Except this is,” she argued, sliding one hand into her hairline while the other dropped down to hang uselessly off her knee. He hadn’t seen her look at him with that much urgency since she’d told him to take her wallet far, far away from her when they went to a gaming convention together. “Twilight’s hurt! We could’ve died out there and it would’ve been because of me! Our stupid, broken tech and my stupid, broken magic. She wouldn’t even be in this mess if I wasn’t so reckless. I’m getting too comfortable having you girls to rely on, I’m letting my instincts go slack. And the others, I don’t even know if they’re okay!”

With her pushing back the curls that hung on her forehead, Flash could see a gash that definitely hadn’t been treated by a medical practitioner. In fact, looking her over, it didn’t seem like Sunset had let anyone help her out at all. 

Rainbow Dash flicked a look his way that seemed to communicate she’d caught onto the same thing. “Yo, Sunset? You look like death, dude.”

“Thanks, Rainbow Dash,” she mumbled.

Flash set his jaw to the side. “She means maybe you should go get yourself looked at? Have you even seen a nurse yet?”

Pushing herself up in her seat, Sunset held her head like she was dizzy, which wasn’t exactly encouraging. “What I need is to make sure everyone’s okay. I need to see the girls. Where’s Twilight?”

“Back with the doctors and all that fancy medical stuff, like you should be,” Timber told her, although even with that he almost sounded like he was joking, which wasn’t helped by the way he swung around the waiting room chair to sit next to her. How he managed to get off the phone with a worried Gloriosa was a minor miracle, even Flash knew that. “Good to see you, by the way. Haven’t checked in since you and Twilight finally rode off into the magical sunset together. Still drooling over each other?”

Surprised he brought it up at all, Flash wondered how Timber felt about that and not for the first time. Pure curiosity, mostly, but also, Timber had claim to that sunset once upon a time. Flash didn’t understand what Twilight had ever seen in Spruce, but they seemed good together for a while there. It had to suck to see someone else win the gold—unless Timber cared as little about his ex-relationship as he did about everything else.

Sunset stared at him dumbly. “Timber? What are you doing here?”

It was times like this that Flash seriously admired Sunset’s inability to have tact. 

“I live here. What are you doing here?”

“What?”

“Kidding. Just a joke.” It kind of worried Flash that Sunset hadn’t picked up on Timber’s sarcasm just then. If her sarcasm detector was busted, she must’ve really gotten a bad hit to the head. How out of it was she? Could she count to ten in English and Equestrian? Did she know which dimension she was in? Timber scratched the back of his head, trying to play that one off. “Actually, Twilight texted me.”

“Huh. Really? I didn’t even know she still had your number,” she trailed off, but then shook her head and gave him a more clear-eyed look. “It’s good! I’m glad you’re here. You should be. We probably need all the help we can get. I just didn’t know you two had made up.”

“Yeah… that’s because we haven’t.”

She looked ready to press him for more, but before she could, a door slid open and a pink-haired nurse raised her icicle eyes from a chart in her hands. “Visitors for Twilight Sparkle?”

Timber and Sunset both stood up at nearly the exact same time. 

Rainbow Dash, on the other hand, groaned loud enough for the whole waiting room to turn her way. “Nurse Red Heart, can we please finally see her now please?”

To her credit, Flash realized he hadn’t ever seen Rainbow Dash wait more than twenty minutes for… anything, actually. Even waiting for new Daring Do books, she’d needed Twilight to help save her a place in line while she took a sporting-goods store break. He hoped he didn’t look too startled as he watched her, but it was just shocking to think she’d managed to stay put in one place for so long. This was the same girl, right?

Nurse Red Heart gave the four teenagers a compassionate if exhausted look. “Not yet, Ms. Dash. A little longer.” The sound of Rainbow Dash going insane sounded a lot like a silence and that was terrifying. Luckily the nurse took up the task and filled it. “Your friend Twilight is doing well. She’s gone into surgery—”

“Surgery?!” four voices shouted.

Sunset looked almost as pale as the white-skinned nurse. “Stars above, what’s wrong with her?”

“Is she okay?” Flash asked, because that definitely wasn’t a stupid question.

“Oh, I’m sorry, you haven’t been updated! She has a broken arm. Twilight is going to be just fine. Doctor Stable has decided she’d benefit from what is essentially a small metal rod in her arm to help the bone heal. It’s a standard operation, I promise, very minor, very unintrusive.”

Timber collapsed back down into his chair, slithering lower and clutching his chest as if relieved he’d survived a heart attack. At least he took some things seriously. 

Sunset, meanwhile, still looked pretty shaken up. She approached the nurse. “When she wakes up from surgery, can you come get me? If, you know, she still wants to see me? I’m her girlfriend.”

Red Heart smiled with all the warmth of one of those trendy seasonal lattes Rarity liked. “You’ll be the first to know, dear.”

Before the nurse walked away, Flash saw his opportunity and stepped in between the two as if introducing them. “Perfect! And in the meantime, maybe you wanna take Sunset here to get a little checkup of her own?”

Sunset glowered at him. A look he knew well; well enough to see the twinge of fear behind the no doubt intimidating front. Truth time: as her ex-boyfriend, Flash had been sworn to secrecy that Sunset Shimmer’s greatest fear was hospitals. She’d never taken to accepting help well in her bad girl days, but the hospital and doctor thing was next level. Said it made her feel powerless in the scariest possible way, and even if Flash’s greatest fear was the clown he’d had at his tenth birthday party (he resisted a shudder; no one wore that much face-paint if they weren’t hiding something), he could understand why that would freak her out. 

But he could also keep his lips zipped on her fear and still make her get the care she clearly needed. In fact, the secrecy probably worked to his advantage here, because she didn’t really have an excuse not to get looked after if she wanted to keep her fearless persona intact.

Still, it didn’t make it easier to say no when he was pretty sure she was trying her absolute best to tell him telepathically (which she’d only managed a few times before), C’mon, dude. Don’t do this to me.

Strolling over, Rainbow Dash yawned and pocketed her hands in her short-sleeved hoodie. “If you’re going, I’m going. Toootally to keep you company and stuff, not just because I’m gonna go bonkers if I count the 72 floor tiles again.”

Flash genuinely couldn’t tell if Rainbow Dash knew or not. This was either a seriously thoughtful way to help her friend out without drawing attention to her fear, or Rainbow Dash being conveniently oblivious Rainbow Dash. Either way, Sunset gave her a small, appreciative smile. 

He watched them help Sunset into the back past the double doors. She sent a worried look over her shoulder and he gave her a crisp thumbs up. Finally, he actually felt like he’d helped someone, which he couldn’t be more happy about.

Happy until Flash realized that left him alone in a room with Timber Spruce for an indefinite, but definitely long period of time. Timber, and his unfairly pine-fresh musk. Timber, and his undeniable-not-matter-how-much-you-denied-him sense of humour. Timber, the boy he’d gotten rowing lessons from by the lake at camp and admittedly wished would take his shirt off more often. Flash’s eyes flared. “Wait.”

Timber grinned at him, slowly raising up the small package of candies from his jacket.  “So… gummy griffins?”
> 3: Head for the Tall Timber
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Flash Sentry hadn’t ever met a person who could tease him relentlessly without ever opening his mouth. The most annoying part was that it worked, and Spruce seemed to know it worked. Flash guessed he had to entertain himself somehow, but did he really need to do it in the most obnoxious, irritating way possible?

He didn’t even particularly get what exactly was so insufferable about him. It wasn’t like the dude was hitting on Flash’s pet peeves—being rude to people in service jobs or picking their teeth after a meal. And as much as Flash didn’t love his tone with everything that had gone on today (tonight? It was hard to tell how much time had passed without windows or clocks), Timber had stuck around. 

Maybe that was just it. What was he still doing here if he didn’t take any of this seriously? He wasn’t dating Twilight anymore, either, and he clearly knew there was no room left to give it a second try. 

He better not give anything a try.

Flash studied the guy, throwing a few small, inconspicuous glances at him, barely a flick of the head. Was Spruce up to something? Would he really be that low, to come and meddle with things on a day when the girls landed themselves in the hospital in urgent conditions?

Flash scoffed quietly. Okay. Now I’m just getting paranoid. This isn’t a witch-hunt.

Timber picked up on the scoff, though, and quirked an eyebrow. “Mind sharing with the class?”

Flash froze, red hands in his hoodie pockets. “Uh?”

“It’s just you keep looking at me like you think I don’t notice you checking me out. I know I’m what the kids call ‘a looker’ but you gotta work on your sly-eye game.” His eyebrows performed an overly sensual mating dance.

Flash let his eyes take a whirl around as if in the spin-cycle. “Ha ha.”

Spruce shrugged. “I could teach you if you want. I’m what the everybody calls ‘an expert.’ For example, I’ve been checking you out for half an hour now and you didn’t notice once.”

He stared at him. “Wait, for real?”

“See? Didn’t. Notice. Once.” He flourished his hands like a stage magician and made a noise mimicking his astounded crowd. “Magic.”

Flash frowned, trying to work that one over in his head. “But... if you weren’t checking me out, I also wouldn’t notice that because there’d be nothing to notice.”

“Exactly, and you can’t tell whether I was or not. Shrödinger’s flirt!” Timber looked entirely too proud of himself, which was why Flash refused to let him think he was even slightly impressed. People who called attention to how clever they were was officially his third pet peeve. Or maybe just Timber Spruce. 

But catching onto that, it was Timber’s turn to roll his eyes. “Oh, c’mon. I’m just trying to lighten the mood, Morticia.”

Flash shifted away, planting his cheek firmly into his hand. He muttered under his breath, “I wish you wouldn’t.”

“Huh? What was that?” he prompted, tilting his tousled hair to the side. It was a cute move, which irked Flash since Timber probably knew it was cute and did everything in his power to be downright adorable just to spite him. 

Flash didn’t take the bait. He refused to take the bait. He blinked heavily, but that was the extent of the rise Spruce would get out of him. 

Even still, it ate at him until he couldn’t take it anymore and had to raise his head out of his hand to glare at him. “Dude, why are you really here?”

Timber’s stupefied face had the tiniest bit of a pout to it. Of course he would pout, the bastard. “Uh, I dunno. Why are any of us here on this tiny floating space rock? I didn’t choose it.”

Flash groaned, pinching the space in between his thick eyebrows. “Does everything out of your mouth have to be sassy, quotable quip?”

“No, but I do aspire to a certain level of greatness,” he said, almost automatically, but right after he did seem to wilt. “Is there something wrong with me being here? I told you, Twilight texted me herself. I don’t know why she would, but she did. I think that means something. Unless it was a butt-dial in the ambulance or she thought she was messaging someone else, she wants me around right now. You think that’s weird, too, right?”

Flash didn’t know how to argue with that, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to. Instead, he shook his head. “Forget it.”

“Alright, fine. Forgotten. Why are you here?” Flash stared at him and Timber shrugged. “No, really. Were you there when it happened? Did you need to get patched up, too? Should I be taking your temperature?”

“No, but I wish I’d been there. I don’t know what I would’ve done. Maybe I would’ve just gotten in the way, but I don’t know, I could’ve been there. I could’ve been with them. I could’ve helped! Or maybe not helped, but y’know, even just cheered or, like, gotten them out of there quicker. Maybe all I’m good for is a getaway car, but that would’ve been something, wouldn’t it?” His hands collected his arms over his chest, hugging close. He bit back his tongue before it could get any looser. He felt like he’d given Timber a boatload of comedic ammunition. What a joke, right? “I guess it doesn’t matter. It’s not like either of us really belong here anyway, right?”

Timber looked like someone had activated seat-warmers beneath his alien-head pajama pants and set them to broil. Suddenly, he didn’t have anything to say. 

Flash threw his hands up and dropped them back onto his lap. “I’m taking a walk. I need air.”

His face felt hot and itchy, but if he was going to cry, it wouldn’t be in front of Timber Spruce.







Wet pavement reflected the lights from around the circular garden bed in the middle of the cul-de-sac. The rich, earthy smell of petrichor lifted off the ground, or drifted in from the sea of pine trees walling off the night. The steps leading up into the hospital were wet from the rain, too, but Flash didn’t care. He sat and hugged his knees the way he used to when he was little and waiting to be picked up from preschool.

A shadow fell on the steps beside him. Flash didn’t know how to say he wanted to be alone without sounding pathetic or anti-friendship about it, and he also didn’t know how to say he didn’t want Timber to leave. He settled on: “Sorry if I made things weird.”

Timber didn’t sit so much as squat down, both hands in his jacket pockets. It didn’t look comfortable, but neither did Timber. “It’s okay. I don’t know about you, but I have yet to make things normal, so at this point it’s starting to feel like I’m the common denominator in that equation.” He flinched and then chuckled, but this time Flash could tell it was one hundred percent at himself. “Wow, I still sound like Twilight. I’d say I spent too much time around her, but that’s not true. I didn’t spend nearly enough.”

As Timber shifted to sit cross-legged, Flash watched him carefully. “I didn’t mean to go off on you, man. I get it, being Twilight’s ex. Kind of. In a way.” He shook his head before he could spiral down that road some more. “All I meant is the girls really need us right now and, I mean, I guess they don’t need us, but—” He shoved a sigh out of his mouth that had been building up inside him all day, and in the breaking free, it tore him up. His eyes stung, and it surprised him. “I don’t get you.”

Timber raised an eyebrow, but let him go on.

“I don’t get how you’re not terrified by all this,” he said, gesturing around to Amnesty Hospital’s beautiful grounds.

Timber’s eyes glanced around the clearing and ambulance bay, as if searching for an unseen threat. The wind shifted the trees, but that was about it. He shook his head as he pronounced, “All what?”

“All of it?” Flash stood up, turning away from Timber and hugging himself. There was nothing he could do to stop the night breeze from tearing straight through his hoodie. “The magic? The girls putting themselves in a danger we don’t even understand? I feel so stupid because I thought they could handle anything, like they were invincible, but they’re not and I don’t know if my friends are going to be safe! They made it out of today, but what if they don’t make it out of the next time?” 

Flash laced his fingers together behind his head, stumbling back as if coming across a car crash and taking in the enormity of the consequences. “I don’t know how any of this works or where to start and I didn’t know what to do or say or how to help—I could barely keep from falling apart in front of them!” His throat burned and as a result his voice came out charred and singed. “How are you even remotely okay?”

“... Whoa,” Timber said too softly, laughed, and laid a tender hand on Flash’s shoulder. “You really think I’m not freaking out?”

Flash turned. He saw a different boy than he had inside. He could see past the smile to the stressed, sleepless eyes. The strain. With his arm outstretched to Flash, he noticed the patch on the jacket’s arm: Everfree’s Pride, Forest Ranger and Aerial Firefighter. And realizing this wasn’t Timber’s jacket originally, he saw a panicked kid wrapping himself in a security blanket to wait out the storm. He wondered if Timber looked like anything like this the night he lost his parents in a forest fire.

He’d heard the story from Twilight once, but he hadn’t thought about how Timber must have been utterly terrified.

“I knew you were oblivious, but dude.” His sea green eyes sparkled over a brave smile. “I’m barely keeping it together over here.”

Then Timber’s smile fell and he shoved his other hand into his pockets, as if for fear of what they might do. “I’ve been scared for months. Ever since I saw my sister become a spooky campfire story. I guess I’ve been scared ever since I met Twilight and the girls.”

“Then you’re definitely smarter than me,” Flash admitted, smearing the butt of his palm into his eye, even though he could feel how flush his face was and knew there was no pretending anymore.

Flash expected Timber to riff off of that, but Timber shook his head. “Nope. I’m even dumber than you are: I fell in love with a hero.” He held his forehead. “I didn’t mean that. Twilight’s great, the girls are great, Equestrian magic’s great—”

“But loving them means holding your breath every time they rush in,” he finished, whether Timber would’ve said it or not. His heavy blue eyes met the sea green waiting for him. 

They stayed quiet under the weight of that moment and sat back down on the front steps of Amnesty Hospital, an ambulance siren sounding off in the distance.

“... I’ve still got you beat,” Flash said.

Timber looked at him. 

“I had a crush on a princess from another dimension, genuinely thought it could go somewhere, and started to fall for her human counterpart, all before I realized I never knew either of them.” He turned his cowlick up to the stars, looking toward the mended dimensional crack in the sky that at this point looked like a scar. He guessed that’s what it was. A scar across space-time. Is that permanent? Are people going to know about magic now?

Timber joined him, and his voice stayed quiet in a low and rumbly tone only for one other person. “Astronomy lessons at camp are going to be really different if I have to explain that.”

Flash chuckled, just a deep, warm sound in a vast, cold, and inky night, but it made Timber beam. “Hey! Look at that! I finally got you to smile today!”

Flash might’ve forced down his smile if it didn’t feel so good to share it with Spruce. Timber’s smile made his eyes a little smaller, but also a lot brighter. He liked how real it was, right down to the slight laughter lines around his eyes. Looking at Timber’s lips, Flash bit his own. “Guess you did. Don’t know how you managed that on the worst day of my life so far, but you did.”

“So far?” In a measured movement, Timber bumped his shoulder up against Flash’s. “What’s with the optimism, sunshine?”

His heart felt lighter in his chest, but not just lost-weight lighter. Anti-gravity lighter. Lightheaded rush lighter. And he didn’t stop smiling. “We’re up against monsters, mayhem, and magical catastrophes so preposterous I probably can’t even conceive of them. Take your pick of what happens next.”

“We? We don’t belong here, remember? Team human beings? The exes club?” Even though he had a vague smirk on his lips, Timber’s eyes dropped down to where his hands rubbed either one of his knees. “You were kind of right about that. I rushed out here so fast I didn’t even put on clothes, but it’s not like anyone needs me. I think Twilight was panicking when she called me because she was hurt, and the others were hurt, and she didn’t know where Sunset was. If Sunset could’ve been there by her side in the ambulance, she probably wouldn’t have even picked up the phone. I wouldn’t have even known anything bad happened today.”

Crickets creaked in, hidden away in the bushes and the trees. Flash opened his mouth to say something, because he wanted to say something, he wanted to make everything okay, but it took him time to find the words and even then, he didn’t know the order. 

He placed a hand over top of Timber’s and felt how rough and worn his knuckles were as he did. All Flash’s hands were was sweaty. And a little calloused at the fingertips from playing guitar. 

Timber looked startled, but not uncomfortable. He didn’t take back his hand, at least. In fact, he smiled.

Flash did, too. And he kept smiling. “I want you here, if that helps at all.”

“Yeah,” he told him in a campfire voice. “It helps.”

They stayed quiet again, also under the weight of the moment, but inside Flash couldn’t keep still. The instruments in his head rushed and swang and boomed so loud and to a tune so awesome he wished he could take the song in his head and either sing it to everyone he knew or record it onto his phone and never let anyone else hear a note. The music of a moment like this made him wish he could play better to capture it. But then again, it was kind of alright that no one but him got to be here to hear it. And maybe, if he was lucky, if he could get good enough, he could share it with Timber someday.

And in the meantime, he realized he hadn’t said anything in a while and hey, maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he’d lean in and kiss the guy, but that didn’t matter, because Timber’s eyes flew open. “Is that—are we…? You have magic?!”

“What?” he asked, and his eyes dropped to their hands which were glowing like fireflies. The tingling warmth that Flash had just attributed to touching the other boy’s skin evidently had another source; and it made no earthly sense whatsoever. “What?! Dude! How are we doing this? We don’t have Equestrian magic!”

“Tell that to my glowing hand! For all I know it can speak, too, so you may as well talk to it.”

Flash laughed, cracking a smile. “What?”

“I don’t know! It’s a joke! I don’t do crisis situations well! You know that!”

Flash observed their hands, lacing his fingers through Timber’s and bringing them up to eye-level. If he looked hard enough, he could see the glow was blue-green, and a fairly pretty blue-green at that. And if he concentrated on what Timber’s hand felt like it was… smokey. Like holding his hands out over a campfire, a feeling so strong Flash swore he could smell campfire. “... Is it a crisis? Because it kind of just looks like we just acquired superpowers.”

“Okay?” Timber asked, and a nervous laugh squeezed out of him. “What does that mean? What powers do we even have? Glowing? Glowing’s a lame-ass power, man. That’s like the worst one.”

Flash shrugged, and when he did, he could feel an electric shock shoot up his arm. “Don’t the girls always glow? That doesn’t mean glowing’s their power. Maybe we just have to find out what our powers are? Or maybe this is a magic of friendship thing, I dunno.”

Another few shocks shot through his finger tips, but this time, it wasn’t him. Timber blushed. “Hate to break it to you, but glowing hand-holding is kind of gay.”

The shocks exploded between them, to the point that it was almost too much good to take and Flash almost let go. He laughed, maybe because of that or maybe out of pure giddiness, and took Timber’s other hand in his, which powered up as well. “Does this mean you’re my superpower?”

“No, that would be cheesiness,” Timber countered, but Flash could feel the good vibe flowing so he probably liked that. He gave Flash’s fingers a test squeeze. “Is it gonna be awkward to be superheroes in the same team as my ex-girlfriend if our power involves holding hands?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Maybe we don’t tell them right away?” He knew that wasn't a long-term solution. If normal people like he and Timber could just suddenly gain magic, the girls had to know and had to fix it. Somehow. If they could figure out why it was happening to begin with. Maybe it's because of the sky rift?

“Okay, yeah. You’re smart,” Timber said, sounding grateful. Then he bit his lip, looking directly at Flash and it made something down south heat up, too. “Gotta be honest, while I’m normally pretty fantastic at this flirting thing, magic flirting is new for me. I’m out of my depth here. Should we…?”

Flash stared until it hit him what Timber was really asking. “Oh! We don’t have to kiss or anything. Partly because if we glow when we hold hands, I don't know if we'll explode if we kiss? But also because I know things with Twilight were serious, and yeah, it’s been a while since you broke up, but trust me when I say I know  how hard it is to get over a Twilight Sparkle.”

Timber giggled and the voice in Flash’s head hollered, Cuuute! “Yeah… yeah, it’s pretty rough. That genius is really oblivious to it, too. But, gotta be honest again, you definitely give me hope. In more ways than one.”

Heart beating hard enough he thought Timber could feel it through his hands, Flash grinned. “Hey, it’s okay if you say no, but do you want to go to the mall with me sometime? Preferably before the next time the world’s about to end. I figure we’ve got some things to figure out together.”

Timber smirked in the glow illuminating their faces from the dark. A mischievous glint to his expression stirred the magic between them, and Flash realized that no matter how long he knew this boy whenever he saw that face he’d never know what Timber was about to do. 

Stealing a kiss would be the least of his worries. 

It happened fast. Timber’s lips pressed into Flash’s before he could even close his eyes, but rather than exploding, the magic sent rippling, mind-numbing shockwaves throughout his body. Flash’s eyes fluttered to a close and he kissed back. Hard. He wasn’t sure what the music of a moment this perfect could even sound like, but he’d gladly put it on repeat. Maybe forever. 

When he pulled away, the buzzing shocks between them leveled off into a hum. A heat. He hadn’t realized Timber had taken one of his hands away until he felt that hand still resting on his jaw. Breathlessly laughing, Timber said, “I really want to hang out at the mall.”

Before Flash could answer, the loud sound of the front doors sliding open startled the two of them apart. Timber hid his hands behind his back, and Flash pocketed his out of sight. Nurse Redheart sighed through ten-hour-shift exhaustion, but not in an unkind way. “There you are. Your friend Sunset wanted me to find you two. Twilight Sparkle is ready for visitors.”
> 4: Between Night and Day, Trapped in Twilight
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Flash Sentry didn’t know if he had a boyfriend or not. Of course he didn’t have a boyfriend, per se, he suspected he would have to at least ask before he’d just have a boyfriend. It was too soon for labels. They still didn’t know each other all that well, all things considered. But that didn’t stop Timber from reaching for his hand as they followed after the nurse, and it definitely didn’t stop Flash from taking it gratefully. 

Letting Nurse Redheart lead the way to one of his best friends’ hospital room, Flash felt a bit selfish. He couldn’t decide if he was more worried about the girls, or more flustered over the hand in his, but if it counted for anything, he wanted to be more worried about the girls. What kind of friend would he be if he wasn’t?

He decided he was very, very worried. 

It didn’t take much for that to be true. When the nurse finally turned to stand in the door of the room, where she might be holding it if the door wasn’t already wedged open, Flash could feel Timber squeeze and let go. Potential boyfriend or no, he hoped that meant Timber was feeling the same fear he was.

Well, he thought, I don’t hope Timber’s scared, just that we felt the same way, about the hospital and our friends and stuff, and not because we don’t feel the same way about each other. 

Flash had to suppress a smile thinking about how Spruce would tease him for getting all tangled in his words even in his own head. Or the fact that there might be an our friends when all this was through.

Which, if anyone asked, had nothing to do with why he couldn’t keep that smile from breaking free when all of the girls sat around the room in one way or another. All of them. Rainbow Dash sat with one leg on the windowsill, next to Applejack, who leaned with one muscled arm on the wall next to Twilight’s bed (mostly to take pressure off a sprained ankle).

And Fluttershy, holding Angel bunny in her lap, was right by Pinkie, who hung over the back of her chair with Rarity sitting cross-legged on a bench beside them both. Rainbow Dash seemed to be eyeing Rarity an awful lot, and not just because she looked shockingly well-put-together for someone who had been out cold not that long ago.

Sunset sat directly on Twilight’s bed, close enough that Twilight could hold her cheek with the hand that wasn’t in a cast. “⁠Sunset, you could’ve been concussed! And if you didn’t let the nurse check, you would never have even known!”

“Twi, babe, I promise I’m fine. Chicks dig scars anyway,” Sunset informed her, as if she hadn’t been scared half to death a few hours earlier. She seemed to lose that cool-headed calmness when she hesitated as she went to hold Twilight’s hand and felt the cast. “You’re the one who just came out of surgery. Are you okay?”

“It’s a good question,” Timber interjected. “Are you okay?”

Flash had to admire Timber’s bravado, especially now that he knew Timber really didn’t know where he stood with those two. Flash never would’ve had the guts to waltz in unannounced when his ex and her girlfriend were having a moment. That much confidence was unreal.

It intrigued him to wonder whether it was real or not. 

But for the moment, the more important fact was that Twilight smiled at them from her bed. Sure, her left arm was in a purple cast, and there was a hairline crack in the right lens of her glasses, but she seemed to have all the energy she would if she was about to take a test. “As I’ve already told Sunset, I’m better than ever. And by that, I mean it’s been a running joke between me and Shining Armor that I’d end up slowly becoming the world’s first android, and look! I’m now 0.05% titanium! Isn’t that cool?”

“Robo-Twi is a go!” Pinkie cheered, pumping her fist. “Ooo! Does your new arm come with kung fu fighting grip?”

Sunset looked at her girlfriend. “Yeah, please don’t add any upgrades to that.”

Timber shoved his hands into his pockets, faltering at the foot of the bed. “Cool. Roboticism. That feeling when your ex has exciting new life plans already…” He brought a hand up and faux-whispered, “Super awkward.”

Sunset looked at him like he’d suggested they all go for round two with the threat they’d faced in the park today (or yesterday, Flash was starting to suspect it was yesterday by now). “What did I just say?”

Twilight giggled at her girlfriend, and smiled to him. “It’s, um, it’s good to see you again, Timber. I swear I meant for the first time we saw each other again to be, you know, not this, and I also meant to text you more, but then I didn’t know how much was too much or too little, and then things with Sunset started which—oh gosh, I haven’t even asked you if that’s weird for you and⁠—” She stopped mid-sentence, noticing Timber’s pajamas, just to groan. “You still have those alien pants?”

“Twilight, the truth is out there.” 

“Don’t start,” Twilight begged. 

“Okay but now you’re dating an alien from another world!” Satisfied smirk on his face, Timber waggled his finger at her. “You can’t deny facts, Sparkle.”

“Oh, that doesn’t even qualify as a fact by any scientific measures and you know it!”

Rainbow Dash pointed. “Yeah, Sunset isn’t an alien. She’s a pony. Everyone knows that.”

Fluttershy frowned. “But she is from another world. Technically speaking, is she an alien?”

“I think I would know if I was an alien,” Sunset complained.

Pinkie Pie gasped. “That’s just what an alien would say!”

Sunset squinted at her. “Is it, though?”

Timber smirked to Twilight. “So. Glad we broke up yet?”

“Very,” she sighed. But smiled more genuinely. “But I’m also really glad you’re here. Thanks for coming.”

“Of course. Anytime you save the world from mass destruction and certain doom, I want in. It’s good drama.” He winked at her. “Just don’t wait until you think your girlfriend might be dead to shoot me a text next time, okay?”

Sunset frowned at him. “What was that last part?”

Flash let his shoulders droop in the sigh to end all sighs. A multi-hour wait in a hospital could do that to a guy. “So you’re all okay? Everybody’s safe?”

The room got a lot more quiet than he was expecting. Heavier. Rarity was the first to speak up, “Thankfully, we’re all safe for now, yes, if that’s what you’re asking… ahem. Mm. But otherwise, eh…”

Applejack’s gaze dropped to her cowgirl boots. “What Rarity’s trying to say is we didn’t exactly make a new friend out there this time ‘round.”

Flash caught Timber’s look, and felt a bit glad he had someone to take this all in with for once. “What do you mean?”

The girls didn’t seem to want to answer, which in and of itself felt like icicles forming on his heart. But he quickly realized it was because they were looking to Twilight and Sunset to field this one. 

Sunset grimaced to her girlfriend, who nodded. Twilight spoke up first. “The person we were up against didn’t happen to stumble across magic by accident. We think he’s known about it for a while and that’s how he’s gotten so powerful. He’s been biding his time in the shadows.”

“Fittingly enough,” Sunset grumbled.

Timber hugged his own arms. “So, what? Your theory is there’s been some lunatic out there watching your every move?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Twilight nodded. “We can only assume. Before I even created my EM frequency detector, I was able to gather intel about the goings-on at Canterlot High with a little amateur sleuthing and a bus pass. If someone was really determined and had access to more resources than I did, they could be watching the whole school.”

“Goodness. For all we know, he might’ve been around to see everything,” Rarity said, holding a hand over her heart. “Sunset’s transformation at the Fall Formal, our reunion at the Battle of the Bands, the entirety of the Friendship Games...”

“Our time at camp,” Fluttershy whispered. 

They all looked to Timber, who squirmed at the thought. “Okay! We get it! Total creep-factor. But you stomped him out today, right? It was a tough go, you all took your fair share of licks, but you came together, Rainboomed up, and rainbow lazer et cetera et cetera?”

Sunset grimaced. “Not this time. We managed to weaken his defenses enough to disarm him temporarily, but he escaped before we could make sure he can’t do this again. He’s still out there.” Across the room, Rainbow’s seat at the window started to look more like a guard post, because maybe that’s what it was. She’d volunteered to take the first watch. “We don’t know what he wants. We don’t know what he’s fully capable of. No one’s safe until we find him again.”

Fluttershy hugged her bunny to her chest. “Or he finds us.”

Flash stepped forward. “Okay, no. Normal human common sense, activate.” They looked at him like they didn’t know what he was saying, what strange foreign concept he’d invoked. He worried about them sometimes. “I’m not letting you girls go through this alone. It’s crazy that this guy got away with what he did, but if he did it’s because you friendship experts haven’t asked for help. My dad’s the police captain for the whole city! If anyone can find your guy and keep you all safe, it’s him.”

The eight of them looked to Sunset, as if for permission. She didn’t seem to notice, but nodded. “If you’re sure your dad isn’t going to blow our cover, we’d be happy to have some backup on this one. It’s not like we can’t use the help.”

Twilight bit her lip. “Just please don’t tell him Sunset’s an alien invader from another dimension. She’s really, really not.”

“Although we have our suspicions…” Pinkie added, mostly just to keep the room from suffocating under the pressure of this conversation.

Sunset shoved Pinkie off the chair she was on.

Pinkie Pie smiled at her from the ground. Sunset grinned back. 

Still leaned up against the wall, but attempting to make it look like she was choosing to do so, Applejack grunted. “Dang it all…”

Rarity poised an eyebrow with so much natural grace Flash almost didn’t remember she’d been to hell and back in high heels. “Applejack? Something to say then, love?”

Applejack shook her blonde head⁠—and Flash felt a bit stupid for thinking this but it was genuinely weird to him to see AJ without her trademark stetson. She looked shorter. She more than made up for it in muscle-mass, but she didn’t look... whole. Somehow softer, too. And maybe it was the shiner on her left-eye, but the emotion in her face was more legible than usual, more raw. “We can’t tell Flash’s dad, y’all. We can’t tell anybody. Anything they know might make them a target.”

“Whoa, hey, calm down, edgelord, they’re the cops,” Rainbow Dash stressed, and her junior air cadets dog tag shone in the dawning light, right next to her geode. “That’s what they’re there for! To protect people in way over their heads!”

Flash didn’t know if he had ever heard Rainbow Dash come that close to admitting they were up against something she couldn’t handle. It made him feel off-balance, but he still tried to look stable. “Rainbow’s right. And maybe you can’t trust every cop out there to keep a secret, but you can trust my dad.”

“No, see, that’s our problem: he’s your dad. Flash, you ever think about if something happened to him, what you’d do?” Applejack seemed to know that she didn’t have to press further; he had. 

When he was little, he admired his dad’s job in the army more than anything, as much as moving preschools sucked every time he got a new transfer. Things got a little more stable for them when he “retired” into police work, but that didn’t mean Flash didn’t wait up to see if his dad came back from an emergency shift. 

“We’ve got superpowers and we got lucky,” Applejack admitted. “I don’t want to lose more family, y’all.” 

Timber scoffed before everyone could think too much about the family outside this room they’d want to keep safe. “Yeah, well, gonna be hard to hide that shiner when you go home to Granny Smith. And it’s not like you’re physically capable of lying, either. It looks like we don’t have much of a choice here.”

Applejack didn’t meet his gaze, good eye or otherwise. 

“Valiant effort at selfless sacrifice, darling, truly noble of you,” Rarity told her, patting her hand. “But, as always, we’ll just have to hope that Applejack is wrong. If it’s any comfort, she frequently is. Flash, be a dear? Call the police?”

Flash gave a firm nod. “Right. Sounds like a plan. Do we have a name? Anything to identify him?”

“Didn’t exactly get a nametag, but we have a good idea. In my world, the pony he most resembles was a tyrant, the lord of shadows. We called him King Sombra,” Sunset grumbled, “but as far as I can work out with Princess Twilight, he’s not from my world. I don’t know if that means he’s the Sombra from this world or… somewhere else. I’d prefer here.” Her eyes convened with her girlfriend’s for some private meeting. “If he’s from out there, some other world, drawing on some other magic... we really don’t know what he’s capable of.”

The quiet pressed down on them. The girls, who Flash had seen standing their ground against otherworldly horrors, didn’t know how to respond. Even Pinkie didn’t seem to know how to lighten the mood. They didn’t look like the heroes of two dimensions, or even saviors of the school; they looked like regular teenage girls. They looked scared, exhausted, and desperately in over their heads, all for just doing what they could to help.

Flash knew what that was like. “Then it’s a good thing he doesn’t know what we’re capable of, either. If he genuinely had a shot at taking you down and he still left you together, he has no idea what he’s up against.”

The girls raised their heads, sharing looks, as if realizing they were all together. All safe in one room, united. That they made it through a natural disaster and hadn’t lost each other. Rainbow Dash nodded to Flash, grinning. She made a show of slapping her knee. “Heh! What an idiot! So much for stalker mastermind.”

Flash chuckled. “Personally? I feel kind of sorry for him.”

The others started to smile, and laugh a little. Pinkie Pie threw her arms around Rarity and Fluttershy both, squeezing them together. Not that he was an expert in magical energies, but Flash could almost feel a steady warmth settle over him. He hoped that meant what he thought it did. 

Flash felt a bump against his shoulder. When he looked, Timber sent him a small smile. Flash bumped him right back. Their friends would be okay.







When everyone’s parents came, Flash assumed they’d all be grounded until college. Fighting interdimensional monsters on a school night? Sounded dangerous. Parents would never understand. But as far as Flash could tell, only Applejack got in any kind of trouble and that was for not telling her Granny sooner. 

Sunset hung back with Timber, leaned against a wall, while the other girls fended off tearful hugs, and Flash had to admit Timber looked pretty cute trying to be cool. Flash had to guess it was probably a little early to introduce Timber to his dad properly, but he hoped those two didn’t feel too left out.

He expected everyone to go their separate ways, recover over this impromptu long weekend. They’d see each other Monday. But then, he should’ve guessed Granny Smith and the Apples would invite everyone over for a hot meal later. 

Everyone took a few hours' downtime. By the time Flash drove his dad’s old Camareo (that with a little paint became what he lovingly called the Flash-Mobile) up the long dirt road to Sweet Apple Acres, the evening melted off into soft, warm colours and blue shadows. 

The Flash-Mobile’s tires crackled over the stones as he eased the car to a stop, headlights casting pathways to the front steps. Timber waited outside the porch, and waved when he saw Flash pulling up. 

After shutting the door, Flash ambled over to him with some folded laundry in hand. “Hey. Got you a change of clothes. I thought you might want something other than the PJs you didn’t get to sleep in last night.”

Timber chuckled. “What? Don’t like my style? Am I not rocking this look?”

“I didn’t say that,” he admitted. He left it at that, because if he didn’t he’d tell his not-quite-boyfriend how much he wanted to run his hands through that wild curly hair. Timber didn’t need the ego-boost. Instead he smiled. “Were you waiting for me out here? You didn’t have to.”

With the fleecy bomber jacket on his shoulders, Timber’s shrug looked that much more dramatic. His eyes were pinned on the roof of the old farmhouse, an impressive sightline in the aimlessly soft sky still marked by the magic that had torn it asunder. If Flash watched, he could see wispy clouds sinking into the crack and dipping out the other side. 

“... Honestly?” Timber asked. Flash nodded. Timber surrendered, looking like he was lost in the woods. “I don’t really know how all this works.”

“The aftermath of magical battles?”

“Family dinners. On Harvest Moon, Gloriosa and I usually order take-out. During Hearth’s Warming we’ll sometimes stay with our Great Uncle Wildwood upstate, but that’s pretty much just the three of us. And more take-out.” If Flash followed his gaze, he saw Pinkie’s sisters playing with Winona and the Cutie Mark Crusaders listening with bated breath to what must’ve been a highly dramatic retelling of the battle by Rainbow Dash. “The only time I really spend with this many people who really care about each other is during camping season. But after, I don’t ever expect any of them to stay.”

Flash’s expression softened. He smiled, and took Timber’s hand. “That’s okay. You’ll get the hang of it.”

He tried to lead them both up the porch steps, but his hand caught as Timber stayed rooted in place. “I—” He took in a breath, shaking his head. “—I don’t want to overstay my welcome. Twilight wanted me here when the girls were in the hospital, but they’re out now. It’s okay. I should probably get going anyway. Go on inside and have a good time, I’ll text you later about that mall date, ‘kay?”

Flash frowned down at him. “Oh. And here I was hoping you’d want to tell the girls about our new superpowers. I thought, you know, maybe they could teach us how to use them. The gay, glowing hand-holding. Best power, by the way.”

Timber looked down to see a slight glow around their hands even now, as if they’d caught fireflies. At least it wasn’t a fluke before. Timber locked his eyes on Flash’s, even if he didn’t look particularly confident. “...You sure I belong in there?”

“You can, if you want to. If you work to keep the friendship alive. You don’t have to let being the ex define you here. I didn’t.” He thumbed the back of Timber’s strong hand, leaving smears of light behind. “But if you’re worried you don’t fit in, you can always be my plus-one. If… if you want.”

The boy Flash hoped he might have a chance at keeping gave him an undeniable smirk in the porch light. When Flash opened the door to the golden light inside, Timber gave his hand a squeeze. “Lead the way.”
> Side Story: Basking in Sunlight
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Twilight Sparkle knew with relative certainty that her girlfriend was meant for great things, but it still shocked her to think she might be one of them. Over the past two months—two beautiful, two heart-reviving months—she’d done her best not to freak out. 

And it worked! Sometimes, at least. She’d feel this unreal level of comfort with her girlfriend that could only come from being with the person who understood her better than anyone else in the world. Or the joy that came with finally embracing  falling in love with her best friend (which, in hindsight, was far from exclusive to the past two months). 

But then, there were also tiny moments that could make Twilight’s heart burst from over-beating if she wasn’t careful. Moments when it really hit her, really and truly, that she was dating Sunset Shimmer. 

Because oh my gosh Sunset Shimmer was her girlfriend. Her girlfriend in her private laboratory. 

Then again, at this point it may as well have been their private laboratory. Since Sunset started coming over to begin their research together, Spike liked to joke that the lab had gotten a woman's touch. Twilight wasn't sure if that usually meant adding military-grade magic-compliant weaponry, stolen arcane texts originating from libraries in another dimension, and a fully stocked mini-fridge, but needless to say, she really liked that kind of girl.

A girl to share her discoveries with and better yet, build off of them, and to get excited when Twilight built off those! A girl to remind her to take breaks or bring her a blanket when she inevitably fell asleep there anyway, who cared about her well-being more than progress or prestige. A girl who admired her intellect and ingenuity without putting her on some pedestal (or in gifted programs apart from most other kids her age like her parents).

And best yet, a partner whom she could trust to keep her in check and vice versa as they reopened the radical idea of mixing magic with the technology of the modern era. 

To... mixed results, if her still-living friends and broken arm were any indication. 

Or the tear in the sky, still hanging hauntingly over Canterlot City, and her ex-boyfriend coming back in town. There was a time she wouldn’t know which was scarier. 

The ex-boyfriend. The ex-boyfriend was way scarier. And now, if that wasn’t terrifying enough, Timber Spruce apparently had magic. 

She was doing everything in her power not to let that bother her, which started with focusing on anything else. Luckily: she and Sunset had a lot of anything else to think about since their best piece of magic-tech essentially imploded.

Hands hidden in her leather jacket’s pockets instead of a lab coat’s, Sunset leaned against the bubbling, neon-blue tube of chemicals behind the desk. Admittedly, it took Twilight time to notice, which she felt a little guilty about (but, okay, who wouldn’t be preoccupied by tinkering with magicmatical formulae and technological advancements unlike the world had ever seen? And doubly so after what they’d just been through?), but Sunset hadn’t made herself comfortable the whole time they’d been in the lab today. She usually liked to be more hands-on than this, right by Twilight’s side. Or closer. 

Twilight preferred closer. 

Focus, she told herself before she could get any ideas. We’ve got work to do! She’s here on business. Just because she’s my girlfriend— Her lips twisted up. Just because she’s my girlfriend doesn’t mean we don’t have a serious job ahead of us. Even if it is weird for her to not flirt a little while we go.

 Twilight reasoned it likely had something to do with the scorched scraps of the gutted-out gauntlet held aloft on the desk in front of her. The way Sunset kept her eye on it, it was almost like she was expecting an attack. As if they hadn’t built it here together. 

“Hmm. If the EM transistors overloaded, it could be that I pushed too much magic into it, couldn’t it?” Applying metallic globules to the magic-powered motherboard, the soldering iron steamed in Twilight’s casted hand. As soon as the word “surgery” left the doctor’s mouth, she’d been utterly petrified to think she’d have to cut back on her experiments in the recovery period, but the biggest hurdle proved to be her dad’s well-meaning fretting—nothing she hadn’t learned to work around for years. “In that case, it’s just a matter of rewriting our formula and adjusting the capacity of the transistors accordingly! Easy as reciting the first twenty digits of pi!”

“But the gauntlet held up fine during the trial stage. Everything seemed so safe,” she started, shaking her head. Twilight focused on placing the solder on two pieces of broken metal as if suturing a wound. “I don’t get why it would’ve exploded like that unless… unless it wasn’t picking up on the right kind of magic,” Sunset mused, eyebrows shoved together. “What were you feeling before it jammed?”

“Before I lost control?” 

Her girlfriend nodded. Twilight appreciated that Sunset would be patient while she collected her racing thoughts; not a lot of people did when she was the top student at Crystal Prep and she never used to blame them. Heck, even now that she valued herself more she still understood: her mind liked to jump ahead, regardless of whom it left behind. 

Technical explanations usually required her to slow down, think about her audience. Anything emotional and Twilight felt like the one left hopelessly behind. 

“I was panicking. A lot. But that’s to be expected, given the situation.” She decided against adding, and given me, because when am I not panicking? “I thought focusing on you and our friends would’ve been enough to keep my magic funnelling through the gauntlet.”

“The magic of friendship isn’t a cure-all for panic attacks,” Sunset said, and from way too much experience for her age, Twilight knew she was mostly right— she’d get partial credit for that answer. Her friends’ support made an invaluable difference, but in the midst of an anxiety attack, friendship and love wouldn’t suddenly stop the feelings of inadequacy from soaring irretrievably high. That much was devastatingly correct.

Friends helped more in the comedown. Friends made accommodations. Friends sparked hope in her for the future, or supported her as she learned the self-care to deal with anxiety. There wouldn’t be enough time in this life to express how much she loved her friends (and she’d read fascinating research about extending the human lifespan; even then).

Sunset softened, not unlike when a post-panic Twilight asked to be held. “I think your magic might’ve been reacting to your fear, and knowing you, it wasn’t just for yourself. Our friends, your family, teachers, classmates, coworkers, your dumb boss, strangers on the street—”

“Okay, okay, I worry a lot! You know me too well,” she accused with a sigh-heavy smile. She set aside the motherboard when its chips, connectors, and processors risen above the green surface looked too close to a miniature town. “I couldn’t help it. The more dangerous things seemed, the more people I thought about. My parents, my brother, Spike, Dean Cadence, Principal Celestia—even the girls at Crystal Prep! If I had enough time, I probably would have worried about everyone in Canterlot City.” 

Expression pained like she’d stepped on that miniature town barefoot, Sunset nodded. “Add magic into that equation and things get out of control fast. It’s not your fault, babe. You know that, right?”

Taking in a breath, she set a hand on their poor, imploded gauntlet. It still gave her phantom pains in her arm if she thought about it too much. The same way her upper back ached if she remembered the wings Midnight Sparkle once had⁠—but she swore to herself this was different. We’re doing it together, for the girls. For each other. It’s going to work.

She rubbed the twisted tech, as if soothing it, and a giggle stumbled out, “Hehe, eh… one of these times you say that I’m going to record you so I can play it back when you blame yourself for everything.”

Technically speaking, the lab was recorded at all times in case of break-ins or breakthroughs, but she usually tried to shut off the feed when she had guests over. Waivers were a hassle. In the past, she’d considered keeping it on for Sunset, since when her girlfriend came over they either made amazing discoveries or made out (usually, one followed the other; the order wasn’t guaranteed). 

There was an argument to be made that maybe they should start recording their findings. Maybe they weren’t progressing fast enough. Our friends are in danger. This has to work. They need us to figure out how to protect them! I should be further along by now, I should be smarter than this, they need me to be better⁠—

“Hey.” Sunset’s voice startled her, since it came from much closer than she was expecting and they hadn’t gotten the Helm of Teleportation past the prototype stage. Without taking her hand from its pocket, Sunset nudged her elbow against Twilight’s shoulder. “You know it’s not your fault, right?”

“Oh. Yeah. I know,” she promised, offering a smile. Whyever would Sunset Shimmer look so doubtful? “Although—” Sunset gave her a warning look. “—in hindsight we probably should have tested our tech under more stressful situations. All the data we collected were in the safety of the lab. Of course it was easy to focus on and channel good feelings with my new girlfriend next to me—we didn’t factor in the variables of a real battle! Or a real demon.” She leaned back in her creaky computer chair, considering it. “You don’t think Sombra had anything to do with that, do you? Messing with our magic?”

Unlike most of her suggestions, Sunset didn’t seem to love that idea. “... Not gonna lie, it’s possible,” she decided, “but if he did, he’d only be tapping into real feelings, anyway. Dark magic comes from dark feelings.”

Twilight jumped at that. Her heart lost a beat in the process, so she clutched at the polka-dotted bow-tie on her chest, as if to find it. “Dark magic? But—but I didn’t steal anyone else’s. All of it came from my geode, or, I suppose, inside me... You’re not saying…?”

“No, oh Celestia, no, babe, you’re not evil or anything. It’s like...” Eyes climbing to the swirling tubes and ropey wires overheard, Sunset sat on the table next to her. “... Magic is power. Magicians either control their power or they let it overpower them.

“I’ve always been a naturally gifted magician—or, uh, was, back in the day," Sunset went on. "The Princess taught me that meant I had to know my own strength. Otherwise, I could do more damage than you’d ever believe.” 

Twilight stayed quiet, nodding even as Sunset grimaced. She didn’t dare say anything to divert the subject. 

She’d found that Sunset’s past was full of those. Hidden stories. Maybe it was a side effect of being a secret runaway (not a space alien) from another dimension, but Sunset only ever mentioned her life before coming to Canterlot High in passing. Twilight found it endlessly fascinating when she could get Sunset started on it, so whenever it was brought up, she did the only thing she could think to do: she listened.

That was how she found out Sunset accidentally called her teacher “mom” more than any other student in Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns recorded history. And was teased for it. A lot. It was also how she discovered the fact that Sunset spent every holiday season at the school with her mentor while most other students went home to their families. And how she learned that Sunset would gladly take all the merciless teasing again if she could spend another holiday season by Princess Celestia’s hearth.

But Sunset didn’t seem to be in the mood to reminisce. She eyed the melted, busted-up gauntlet again, but not like a foreign threat. More like an accomplice. “Most magic isn’t good or bad. It just is. I put Princess Twilight’s Element of Harmony on and it turned me into a she-demon. It’s all up to how you use it. Or how it uses you.”

Twilight held her casted hand to her mouth, and let it fall when she had her thoughts together. “So, it became dark magic as soon as the feelings did. Oh wow. Oh wow.” Her thoughts rushed to notions of roiling teenage emotions and all the untapped power there. She’d wondered why all the villains they’d faced until now had been teens their age, why no one else was a magnet for rogue magic. But, then, maybe that was it: rogue magic fed off rogue emotions. “No wonder I had so much trouble keeping the gauntlet stable! It wasn’t calibrated for that kind of unpredictable power, especially not that much of it at once! I… I was really panicked.” 

Sunset grinned, albeit with some bittersweet sympathy twisting her smile. “The malfunctioning tech didn’t help you stay calm, huh?”

Twilight returned the favour by smiling back, leaning on her broken arm before feeling how stiff and awkward that was with the cast, and shoving her arm down between her knees. “Uh, yes. Yeah. But, you know, I was also extremely worried for my girlfriend’s well-being. That’s not even just a smooth pickup line, losing you was…” Breathing in, she shook her head. She really thought she’d finish that sentence, but then, hearing herself say that out loud… 

Her breath hitched on the exhale. Her eyes fixed on her girlfriend’s.

Sunset nodded. Her brow pinched over her crystalline green eyes.

She moved to close the distance between them, but Twilight got up in the same instant. It wasn’t clear who held whom first, or who held on tighter.

Technically speaking, they’d already done this. The thank god you’re not dead kiss in the hospital had been so passionate their friends had briefly drawn the privacy curtain at Twilight’s bedside. Timber and Flash came soon after, they all went to Applejack’s and celebrated with their friends. They had their normal back.

But then, there were also tiny moments that could make Twilight’s heart burst from over-beating if she wasn’t careful. Moments when it really hit her, really and truly, that Sunset Shimmer was in her laboratory.

Because oh my gosh her girlfriend was alive.

Twilight’s eyebrows buckled under the weight of the thoughts about what could’ve happened to her. She sniffled. The steady blinking lights in the lab blurred, twinkling like stars reflecting off the waves of the ocean. She nestled into the nook of Sunset’s shoulder, pressed herself against the warmth of her stomach, and held the back of her girlfriend’s head. She heard a rough sigh. Sunset squeezed back.

Imagine, all that work to build something to protect ourselves and I almost lost her before it could be finished.

When they moved to look at one another, still in each other’s arms, Twilight had to push up her glasses to wipe her eyes. “Sunny…” Her smile overpowered the tears. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“You’re glad I’m okay?” her voice broke, as if the joy had broken her. Sunset laughed, still misty-eyed, picked her up and swung her around, all while nuzzling her forehead into Twilight’s. 

Now both of them were giggling and Twilight was almost too giddy to notice it. Sunset’s magic mixing with her own. The feeling had become unmistakable after all their experimentation. When they discovered they could share their magic with each other shortly after they started dating, it was thrilling!

That’s why they’d started all this magic-technology research to begin with: the thrill of discovering together combined with the thrill of discovering each other.

If Twilight didn’t run naturally cold (to the point that she may as well have been wearing a three-piece tuxedo with a lab coat instead of a suit jacket), Sunset’s magic would probably be a hot-flash in the making. 

But it was a rejuvenating sort of heat, like rising from the ashes anew. The lab often smelt like the clean fire of a Bunsen burner, but Twilight was really starting to prefer the smokier scent her girlfriend’s magic left behind. 

When Sunset did her best to explain what Twilight’s felt like, she’d described it as cold at first, then bright hot. Bottomless. That sounded horrific to Twilight, but Sunset had assured her it wasn’t like that at all. It was more like… a star in endless space. Endless potential. Sunset said it was downright addictive. 

Look who’s talking. She’d always known (and often appreciated) that Sunset Shimmer was beautiful, but this? Magic radiating off her, her curls wild and her smirk even wilder? This was goddess levels of hot. But somehow, if it was feasibly possible, this was better than that, because this wasn’t some mythically gorgeous stranger or unapproachably put-together prep kid. This was her hot best friend who also swore up and down Twilight was hot. 

Twilight wasn’t sure how. She probably looked like a total goober with her eyes glazing over as she murmured, “Mmph… Is there a way to bottle this feeling? Maybe we should get to work on that…”

Sunset giggled, her hands settling south at the curve of Twilight’s hips. “Mmm... nah. Our friends can have the shields and magical armour, when we make sure they’re safe enough. I’m going to be selfish here. This is ours.”

Twilight laughed and kissed that girl hard. A few times. Or maybe just once, for a long, extended period of time? She didn’t have the brain power to debate the taxonomic classification of kisses, magical or otherwise, while also making out with her girlfriend, but she did have enough to make a mental note that that sounded like an excellent thesis paper: a very, very long thesis paper, requiring rigorous research with a trusted partner. 

Before the heat between them could start a fire and trigger the sprinkler system, Sunset pulled away, softly panting, and muttered in the husky end of her voice, “I… should probably get going, huh?”

Twilight’s eyelids fluttered open. “Mmmwha..? Why?”

Sunset giggled, readjusting Twilight’s crooked glasses. Doing that allowed her to see the sunrise blush in the other girl’s cheeks, causing Twilight to to come to the only logical conclusion: I must protect that smile at all costs. “It’s getting late? You have a curfew? And, honestly, because if I don’t go now, I’m not going at all tonight. Probably should do the responsible thing, since I know you like that in a girl.” 

She winked. 

The sprinkler system must’ve been faulty.

The magic’s glow faded. Before Twilight even had a say in it or even really saw it happen, Sunset slipped her hands back into her pockets. She even dared to give her a cute smile, as if that would in any universe help Twilight let Sunset go home.

“Oh. Um.” Twilight looked to the high, honey-comb-shaped window by the top shelf of her bookcase: pitch-black. Swallowed by shadow. “Huh. I guess it is getting late.”

She followed Sunset to the lab’s retrofitted garage door like she had numerous times before tonight, but her steps slowed to a stumble. The shadows outside appeared hauntingly familiar after losing a battle to the supposed Lord of Shadows. Goosebumps settled over her as the garage door finished its grumbling ascent. Crickets set in.

When Twilight saw her girlfriend halfway down the driveway, half engulfed in darkness, her voice raised itself. “Sunset Shimmer?”

Her girlfriend turned back toward her, soaked in the garage light. “Yeah?”

Twilight opened her mouth and it didn’t work until she fiddled with her hands. “... Can you stay at my house tonight? My parents won’t mind. I don’t like the idea of you alone in your apartment so soon after everything we just went through, a-and I know you’ll have to go back there at some point, but right now you could be a target! All the other girls have someone to defend them. You shouldn’t have to be alone, either.”

She smiled.







Clad in a pair of borrowed magenta pajamas, Sunset flopped backwards onto the bed. “Oof,” she huffed, staring up at the model of the solar system dangling from the ceiling. “You people have too many stairs in this house.”

Snuggled up on top of the pillow on the chest at the end of the bed, Spike snickered into his baby-soft, paw-print-covered doggy blanket. “That, or you really need to use your gym membership.” 

Sunset tilted her head up to make a face at him while Twilight faced the door so those two wouldn’t see her suppress a giggle. If they got too snarky with each other, she’d just have to remind them of how adorable they were the other night at Sweet Apple Acres. The only time that night that Spike had left Twilight’s lap was to jump up at Sunset when she walked in a little woozy, but alive.

She shut the door and felt herself relax the moment she did. The tension in her shoulders dropped, a tension she hadn’t even realized she’d been carrying. We’re safe. Everyone’s okay. No need to panic.

 Then she turned back to Sunset and flinched. “Sunset, what happened to your hand? Wait, have you been hiding that this whole time?! How did I miss that?!”

One of the hands resting on the bed lay wrapped in gauze—which was more startling since the bandaging wasn’t from their hospital visit. Twilight knew because 1) Maybe she could be a little tiny bit oblivious at times, on occasion, but surely even she would’ve seen that by now, and 2) Twilight was the one to stock Sunset’s apartment’s first aid kit in the first place. She’d gifted her that gauze!

Sunset grimaced, shutting her eyes. “Hellhounds,” she swore. 

Twilight scrambled over to cup Sunset’s hand, as if it might break. “You were attacked by hellhounds!? When was this?”

Spike perked up, leaning over the wooden footboard at the end of the bed. “That’s a thing? Can hellhounds talk?”

“No, that’s not⁠—” Sunset stifled a laugh, sitting up on the edge of the bed while Twilight examined her hand. At least the humour was genuine in her guilty smile. “Sorry, I didn’t want to worry you any more than you already are. It’s just a sprain from hitting the punching bag the wrong way.”

Both Twilight and her dog relaxed, and Sunset chuckled like that was funny, but in Twilight’s opinion they’d had a perfectly rational reaction. She could never tell when Sunset was kidding about what did or didn’t exist in Equestria. How could she? Magical singing unicorns used to sound equally as ridiculous and preposterous as fae creatures or ghosts or storybook endings where the hero got the girl. It wasn’t exactly the easiest flow to go with for a lifetime logic-enthusiast/scientist.

Spike hummed. “Still didn’t answer me about the hellhounds.”

Sunset smirked, then pet his head more roughly than Twilight would have (but he seemed to like it). “Tcht. Alright, I hear you. Next time I’m near the Equestrian underworld, I’ll try to find you a hot date, okay?”

His floofy tail wagged almost too fast for the human eye to detect. “Alright!”

Twilight ran her thumb over the taped-up knuckles. “I didn’t know you boxed. Is that new?”

“Yeah. I bought a punching bag. We’ve never been beaten that badly before. Or at all.” Sunset dropped her eyes and rubbed her hand. “I needed to let out some anger. I think it worked. Kind of. Better than calming deep breaths, at least, and even if it didn’t help, Spike’s probably right. I think I owe it to the city to hit the gym more often.”

Twilight giggle-snorted. “You owe it to the city? I’m pretty sure everyone who knows you already knows you’d rather spend your nights off in front of your game systems with a box of Princess Guide cookies.”

“I’m serious!” She sat up and twisted herself back around to talk to her more directly. “For better or worse, I brought magic here and now it’s getting more intense. Dangerous people are getting their hands on it. We’re the only ones in this town who know how to fight back!” She swung at the air which made her bounce on the bed, but then winced and rubbed her wrist. “Ach, ow…”

Twilight frowned, eyebrows tightening over her eyes. She turned toward her dog. “Spike, do you mind giving us a minute?”

Spike groaned like a child being asked to clean his room in the middle of a game with his friends. “But you were in the lab all day⁠—you two never stop talking!” Sunset met Twilight’s eyes and they smiled. Spike seemed to catch on and huffed through his wet little puppy nose. “At least I hope you’re just talking in there…”

“Please?” Irony be damned, she gave him puppy-dog eyes (without really intending to; she’d found that the big glasses just made it hard not to if she looked pathetic enough). She bit into her lip. “We’ll try not to be too long.”

“Well... okay,” he allowed, none too chipper about it. He attempted a glum smile at least before hopping off the bed, doggy tag tingling. “But no one’s allowed to break any more hands while I’m gone. I’m watching you, Shimmer.”

“No promises,” Sunset told him, waving her sprained wrist.

After ushering him out, Twilight let him know where the doggy treats Shining Armour had just baked for him were. She hoped he understood. 

In the calming light of her reading lamp, Twilight came to sit across from her girlfriend on the bed and took her hand in her own; broken and battered hands intertwined. She had a thought, but like most of her thoughts, it was followed up by even more. Could that even work? Does empathy really mix well with levitation? Twilight bit her lip. “Can I try something? With our magic?”

Sunset’s bright eyes sparked at that. “Sure. I trust you, Sparky.”

A smile rose on her face as she shut her eyes to better concentrate on the magic. Delayed only by a moment, she could feel Sunset pushing her magic to her, her heat radiating through their hands, and Twilight did her best to match it. 

She focused on Sunset’s wrist. She’d later suspect it was the empathy magic coursing through her, but her own wrist started to ache, too. Sunset grunted, almost mewling, as if she’d gotten the worse end of that deal and could feel the break in Twilight’s arm. Twilight’s heart dipped at that, but she pressed forward. Even with her eyes closed, she could tell the magic around their hands flared brighter and she distantly wondered if they should’ve been wearing safety goggles. 

Even with her eyes still closed, she could also feel Sunset kiss her fingers. She’d caught on. There’s my clever girl.

She focused on the feeling, the shared understanding of each other’s pain. The light between them flared and evaporated, like a dying star.

Twilight blinked her eyes open a few times, and leaned forward. “Did it work? How does it feel?”

“It feels… better,” Sunset said, eyebrows shooting towards her hairline. She unwrapped the gauze on her hand and examined it, breathing out a laugh. “Twilight, we can heal each other? This is incredible! Did I just heal your broken arm?!”

Twilight worked her elbow, testing how stiff it still felt, but the shots of pain remained. “I... don’t think so. Maybe a broken arm is a little out of our depth.” She didn’t mind. She actually sort of liked walking around with her friends’ signatures and doodles on her cast. “But, hey, I think you might have reduced my recovery time! Imagine the implications, Sunset! We can heal!”

Sunset leaned back on both of her hands, as if to test it wouldn’t wear off without contact. Judging by her wild smile and rapt attention, her wrist was holding up just fine. “Seriously, I know you’re a genius, but how did you figure out we can do that?”

“I’ve suspected we’d be able to do something with our shared magic for a while, but I didn’t know what. I’ve had a few pet theories about what an empath and a telekinetic could do, but honestly? When I saw you were hurt, I just wanted to help. I wanted to understand. Although,” she said, excitement dimming, “I suppose I can’t magically heal everything going on with you. Are you okay?”

“... Yes and no? When I took out my anger on the punching bag, it felt good.” She gripped her hand into a fist, demonstrating her strength now that she had it back, but then let go. “But after letting out all that anger, there was nothing left to hide how I really feel. I’m scared.”

Twilight nodded, looking towards the crack in the night sky they could see from the circular window above her bed. “I know how you feel.” She chanced a smile, tilting up the other girl’s chin. “But it’s like you said: Magic isn’t good or evil, it’s how you use it. That means that even if you brought it here, you’re not responsible for everyone else’s bad choices. In other words, stop blaming yourself. It’s not all your fault.”

She nodded, taking that in, which Twilight hoped was a good sign. “Oh, I think I get what you’re saying. You mean like how you’ve been blaming yourself for your breakup with Timber Spruce?” Sunset grinned when she knew she stumped the genius. “Like how that’s not all your fault?”

Twilight felt her mouth drop open. “That⁠ - that’s different! The breakup was my fault. I got overprotective. I tried to keep him away from magic for his own safety and didn’t realize that also meant keeping him from a part of me. I caused a rift between us.”

The girl who’d blamed herself for the rift in this sky smiled knowingly, even nodded. “Maybe that’s true. But, and stop me if I’m wrong here, you also said there were other reasons.” She numbered them off on her fingers. “He didn’t want to do long-distance when you went off to college, you two had different priorities, and his puns aren’t as funny as mine⁠—and none of that makes either of you a bad person.

“I’m not saying you and Timber need to be friends right away. That’s up to you two. But take it from the guilt-complex master, you’re being way too hard on yourself.” Sunset Shimmer took both of her hands and looked into her eyes, a move she knew Twilight could never resist. “Twilight, it’s not all your fault. You know that, right?”

Short bursts of vibration drilled into the nightstand. She ignored it at first, trying to give her girlfriend a proper answer, but she saw who it was from the notification: Everfree’sFinest.

Up until this past weekend, Twilight would have struggled over whether to ignore it or not. She didn’t know where they stood or what that meant, and how would Timber feel knowing she’d moved on? What on earth was she supposed to say? Or not say? The breakup was already hard enough, but when Twilight stopped to think and really broke it down, it was so... uneven.

She took the friends. She took the magic. And she really hadn’t planned to date anyone else (maybe ever again, quite honestly), but then there was Sunset Shimmer. Her best friend. She needed her best friend more than ever after her break-up, so it only made sense that Sunset came over after school nearly every night she wasn’t working for the first few weeks. And staying at Sunset’s apartment every other weekend or so was just the next most logical extension. Asking her to stay a little longer each time also made its own sort of sense.

And of course she’d feel closer to Sunset with their increased hang-out schedule. And it was only expected that with all that time together, they’d have longer and deeper talks about life and love and feelings. And naturally, with all those subjects gravitating around Twilight’s brain in the late hours of the night, when her mind decided it would be the most talkative, the association between how she felt around Sunset and how she wanted to feel always became startlingly clear. Naturally.

On those late nights, she’d realize it was more than just a beautiful feeling—the feeling was a tell. A clue to a greater mystery for Twilight to unravel. She’d learned the value of friendship, and thought she’d learned about love, but loving again? Loving anew? Was that really what she was feeling?

It took some thought. She kept Sunset at arm’s length for weeks before she was sure, but even now, she didn’t regret that. She wasn’t scared of getting close to another person anymore, but she needed to know she was doing it for the right reasons. And every time she thought about her and Sunset together, one thing rang true: she loved Sunset for who she was, not just how she made her feel. 

Sunset was more than just her shoulder to cry on. If she was, Twilight wouldn’t have said yes to going to the dance together, she reasoned. If Timber ever asked Twilight genuinely hadn’t planned any of it, but she ended up going to the senior year Fall Formal with someone new. And she kissed her. 

How was she supposed to explain that? Would he even want her to? 

Well, he found out anyway, she thought. And even if I tried to keep him away from magic, he’s got that now, too. Maybe we’re both going to be okay.

Taking a deep breath, with one hand still cradled in her girlfriend’s, Twilight unlocked the phone.