> A Flash of Lightning
>  by Summer Knight
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> A Chance Meeting at Fritter's
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Oh, no way!" Flash Magnus's dinner companion, a white pegasus stallion by the name of Winter Winds, burst out mid-conversation.
The two of them were sitting in Fritter's, a pub near Canterlot Castle that many of the royal guards frequented. Fritter's offered good food, strong drinks, and reasonable prices. Best of all, it wasn't one of those hoity-toity places that ponies like, well, Hoity Toity tended to frequent. In short, it was the perfect place for dinner and a mug of cider after a shift. 
Usually.
"What is it?" Flash asked. 
"Look who just came in." Winter Winds could see the door, but Flash had to turn almost completely around to see what—or rather, who—had caught his friend's attention. 
Three pegasi had just entered Fritter's. One was a tall, leggy mare with a dusky gray coat and a white, curly mane. Next to her was a short and stocky red stallion with a swept-back yellow mane. Leading the group was a turquoise mare with a yellow-orange mane, a cocky smirk, and a swagger that he'd seen all too often on new recruits who thought they were Faust's own gift to the royal guard. 
After giving the newcomers a quick once-over, Flash turned back to Winter. "Do you know them?"
"Do you not?"
"Should I?" Flash asked. Truth be told, he was more interested in getting his cider refilled than in whoever these three were supposed to be. 
Winter Winds facehoofed, then pointed to something on the wall just over Flash's shoulder. 
Flash turned his head slightly and saw a very aggressive flier pinned to the wall. There was a rather abstract picture of three pegasi in black and green flightsuits, and spiky yellow letters underneath reading "The Washouts: The Wonderbolts Couldn't Handle Us! Can You?"
"Oh," Flash grunted, "so those three are the Washouts? Yeah, I've heard of them."
"Yes!" Winter Winds exclaimed. "Can you believe they're here? I didn't even know they were coming to Canterlot."
Flash Magnus snorted. "What's the big deal about three failed Wonderbolt cadets?"
"They're better than the Wonderbolts," Winter insisted. "They do stunts the Wonderbolts won't even try!"
"More like stunts they know better than to try," Flash retorted. He drained the last few drops of cider from his mug and looked toward the bar, only to find that it was swarmed with ponies trying to get the newcomers' attention. Apparently Winter Winds wasn't the only Washouts fan here. 
So much for getting a refill. 
Winter, meanwhile, looked like he was about ready to jump out of his seat and join the throng. 
"Don't bother," Flash advised him, "you'll never get close enough to talk to them."
"Yeah, I know," Winter sighed, "I'll wait until things settle down. I just hope I can get Lightning Dust's autograph before they leave."
Flash shook his head and went back to picking at his fries. Winter Winds was a sergeant in the Royal Guard, just like him; a seasoned and competent soldier. Yet here he was, acting like a foal meeting his favorite gladiator.
"Hey, wait a sec," Winter exclaimed as if he'd just thought of it, "you're famous! You could get their attention!"
Magnus huffed. "Not interested. And you know I hate it when ponies try to use me for clout."
"Oh, come on, please?" For Faust's sake, Winter Winds was actually begging. "How many times are we gonna be in a bar with the Washouts?"
Flash sighed, but couldn't quite hide a chuckle. He'd never known Winter to... what was the phrase they used nowadays? Geek out? 
"I'll tell you what," he offered, "I need a refill anyway. If I happen to catch Lightning Dust's eye while I'm up, I'll let her know." He took his mug and stood up.
"You're the best!" Winter called at his retreating flank. 
Even out of uniform, Flash Magnus's presence was enough to get most ponies out of his way with a simple, "excuse me." In short order he was through the crowd and standing at the bar, close enough to Lightning Dust that a careless elbow would have hit her. 
"Well, well," the mint-green pegasus announced to nopony in particular, "if it isn't Flash Magnus!" She didn't sound impressed. 
Magnus arched an eyebrow. "Most ponies don't recognize me without my helmet," he noted. 
Lightning Dust snorted. "Yeah, well, most ponies are idiots." The comment drew a mixture of laughter and grumbling from the other patrons. 
"One of those idiots would really like your autograph," Flash told her. He nodded toward Winter Winds. "He's a big fan."
Lightning shrugged. "Tell him to join the club." 
"Nah, really, we 'ave a fan club," the dusky-black pegasus chimed in with a thick Horstralian accent. 
"Oh well," Flash replied. He plunked his tankard on the bar. "All I told him was that I'd ask." A few seconds later he picked up the now-full cup and put down a couple of bits in its place. "Enjoy your evening."
"What, that's it?" Lightning Dust snapped. 
"Excuse me?"
"The Flash Magnus just happens to be in the same bar that we walk into. He parts the bucking clouds to get to me, just so he can say, 'Hey, my friend wanted an autograph, but oh well, see ya later?!'"
Flash rolled his eyes. "Look, I just came here for a refill. He's the fan, not me. Sorry if your ego can't handle that."
"Not a fan, huh?" Lightning's face relaxed into the smirk that Flash was starting to think was her default expression. "Let's see if we can't change that. HEY!" she yelled toward the third member of their party, "gimme a quill!" 
"PULL IT OUTTA YOUR WINGS!" the short pegasus stallion screamed back, before going back to the crowd's eager attentions. 
Lightning Dust looked like she was about to pounce, and Flash was starting to wonder whether he'd have to cite them all for disturbing the peace, when a soft cough from the bartender somehow cut through all the noise. 
"Use mine, Miss," he offered, holding out a quill with the tip already dipped in ink. 
Lightning spared one last growl for her shorter companion before taking the quill in her mouth. She pulled over a paper bar coaster and scribbled something on it. When she was finished, she hoofed it over to Flash.
"What's this?" 
"A backstage pass to our show tomorrow for you and a guest. Plus it's got my signature on it, so there's your friend's autograph right there."
"Well, thank you. I'm sure he'll love the show."
"Oh, no," Lightning held up a hoof, "free entry for Flash Magnus and a guest. He's not getting in without you!" 
"Why?" 
"Because," she answered with a canny smirk, "I can't wait for the Pillar of Bravery to start telling everypony that we're better than the Wonderbolts."
Magnus snorted. "Well, you're in the running for Pillar of Audacity for sure." He picked up the coaster and tucked it into his belt pouch, if only so she'd leave him alone. "Now, for the second time: Have a good evening." He turned and swept his gaze over the crowd, which once again parted for him like clouds pushed aside by a Legion phalanx. 
"See you tomorrow!" Lightning Dust shouted after him. 
Flash winced—there was no way Winter hadn't heard that. He'd want to know what Lightning Dust had meant, and Flash wasn't going to lie to his friend. Unfortunately, he didn't have a good excuse to miss the show, either; somehow, he thought "I don't want to" wouldn't quite cut it with Winter Winds.
In this little skirmish, the last Legionnaire had been completely outmaneuvered.
> The Show
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Flash Magnus had seen Wonderbolts shows before: They were jaw-dropping displays of speed, skill, and precision. Each stunt was meticulously planned out, then drilled to perfection. 
This was most definitely not a Wonderbolts show. 
He watched with his heart in his throat as the Washouts rolled and dove around flames, storm clouds, and each other. Their routine seemed to be at least half-improvised, and they frequently missed colliding with one another by inches. On one occasion, the taller pegasus—Rolling Thunder, he'd learned—finished spiraling around a jet of fire only to fly straight backstage and dunk her smoldering wing into a barrel of water. 
"Heh. Told ya we're the hottest show in Equestria," Thunder quipped. Then she snapped Flash and Winter Winds a lazy salute before taking off again; she hadn't even let the medic look at her first.
Flash shook his head in disbelief as Rolling Thunder rejoined the show. "These have got to be the most reckless, undisciplined, stupid pegasi in Equestria," he muttered to Winter. 
"Oh, get over yourself," his friend snapped back. "They do this stuff all the time."
"If she'd been a couple inches to the right, she would have burned off her flight feathers."
"But she wasn't, and she didn't."
Magnus huffed angrily, but dropped the subject. He watched the rest of the show intently, nervously, ready to spring into action if need be. He found himself wishing that he'd brought Netitus, his magical flameproof shield—and thought it was absurd that he felt the need to be armed at a stunt-flying show.
Around half an hour later, Lightning Dust swooped down to grab a microphone. 
"Fillies and gentlecolts," she announced, "it's time for the grand finale!" 
The audience, including Winter Winds, responded with a huge outburst of cheers and applause.
"Tonight," she continued, her magically-enhanced voice easily carrying over the roar of the crowd, "Short Fuse will reenact a moment from Equestrian history: The legendary battle where Flash Magnus single-hoofedly took on a whole nest of dragons!"
Flash rolled his eyes. "It was only two dragons, and it took the entire squadron to chase them off," he said, well aware that absolutely nopony could hear him.
Short Fuse, the small red stallion of the Washouts, darted backstage to prepare for his act. In doing so, he missed colliding with Winter Winds by less than a foot. 
"Where is it?!" Short Fuse screamed at the nearest stagehoof. 
"Where's what?" the mare asked. 
"My shield! For the finale! WHERE'S MY BUCKING SHIELD?!"
"Here, sir!" another backstage pony answered. He levitated a small, bronze-colored triangle over to Short Fuse—apparently, that was supposed to be Netitus. "And your helmet." A cheap replica of Flash's crested helm joined the "shield."
Short Fuse snatched the two props out of the air without a word of thanks. He jammed the helmet onto his head, strapped the shield to a foreleg, and flew back out to bask in the crowd's applause. 
"He looks just like you, Flash!" Winter snickered as the Washout posed, showing off his shoddy costume. 
"Oh, for Faust's sake," Magnus muttered. He could feel heat rising in his face at the embarrassing display, and turned side to look for a distraction. His eyes settled on the poor stagehoof who'd borne the brunt of Short Fuse's temper. 
"You know," he said to her, "you don't have to let him talk to you like that."
To Flash's surprise, the mare waved a hoof unconcernedly. 
"Oh, that's just how Short Fuse is, especially during a show," she replied. "He doesn't mean anything by it." She gestured back toward the arena. "Anyway, keep watching; you won't want to miss this one. Especially you, Mr. Magnus!"
Somehow, Flash thought he'd be perfectly happy to miss this mockery of his most famous battle. Nonetheless, he returned his attention to the show. If nothing else, he was now morbidly curious about the act.
"And now," Lightning Dust called through her enchanted microphone, "bring on the dragons!"
Several stagehoofs worked together to wheel out a massive, blanket-covered prop. It had to be ten times the size of an average stallion, meaning it was about fifteen times Short Fuse's size. When they pulled off the blanket, the crowd gasped—and so did Flash, in spite of himself. 
The prop was a huge wooden carving of no less than nine dragon heads and necks, all snaking out of the same tall block and angling upward toward the sky. The overall effect was more like a hydra than a nest of dragons, but even so, it was an impressive piece. Flash figured that it must have cost more than the rest of the Washouts' props and supplies combined.
It went from impressive to terrifying when somepony pulled a lever on the side of the statue, and brief jets of fire began erupting from its nine mouths. If there was a pattern to the flames, Flash couldn't see it.
"That's right, fillies and gentlecolts," Lightning Dust continued, "the dragons may be fake, but the fire breath is oh, so real! Now, armed only with his legendary shield, our hero will battle these monsters. Let's hear it for him!" She raised a hoof to one ear, and the crowd responded with their loudest cheers yet. 
"The sky is yours, Sir Magnus," Lightning concluded with a posh accent and an overdone bow to Short Fuse. She flew back to the ground to watch.
Short Fuse took his position above the sculpture, just barely out of reach of the fire jets. He squinted at it for a long moment, then dove headlong toward the very center of the mass of heads. He performed a deft aileron roll to escape from one flame, then a high-g loop to dodge another. 
"Is that shield fireproof?" Magnus muttered to the stagehoof he'd spoken to a few moments ago. 
"Psh, hardly," she scoffed. "It's papier-mâché on a wood frame."
"I see..." 
Despite his misgivings, Flash had to admit that Short Fuse's aerobatics were impressive—he reached the middle head without so much as getting singed. A powerful buck to the top of the head snapped that "dragon's" neck and sent it crashing to the ground. The audience screamed their approval as Short Fuse flew back up to prepare for another run. 
When the pegasus started his second dive, Flash suddenly leaned forward in concern. The fallen head had just sputtered out what remained of its flames, directly toward the base of the statue. 
"Where's the fuel source for that?" he urgently asked the stagehoof. 
"In the big part at the bottom... oh no." The blood drained from her face. 
Magnus leapt to his hooves. "Short Fuse," he bellowed, "pull up!" Unfortunately, his voice—honed to carry across battlefields—couldn't hope to compete with the crowd's enthusiasm. Instead, he shot a look toward Winter Winds, who nodded back; the coltish excitement was gone from his face, replaced with the stern determination of a solider. 
However, before the two could leap into action, the worst happened: Right as Short Fuse reached his second target, the heat inside the smoldering statue ignited the fuel all at once. Only now, far too late, did the pegasus realize the danger he was in. He tried to bank upward, and reflexively held his "shield" out in front of him.
The real Netitus might have protected Short Fuse from the worst of the blast, but his flimsy prop didn't stand a chance. He was flung across the arena and crashed into the stands on the far side. 
The microphone picked up Lightning Dust's gasp. Half a heartbeat later, she and Rolling Thunder were at Short Fuse's side. Apparently without any need for communication, the two pegasi whipped up a miniature cyclone to blow out the fire that threatened to burn their squadmate alive. By the time the winds dispersed, their medic was there with his kit to look at the injured stallion. 
Flash couldn't hear what anypony was saying, but he did see the medic nod to the others. 
Apparently that nod was all the reassurance that Lightning Dust needed. She darted back to her microphone and announced, "He's gonna be okay, folks! And wow, what a finish! Let's hear it one more time for Short Fuse!" 
The crowd replied with the now-familiar cheers and applause.
"Give it up for Rolling Thunder!" 
More cheering as the lanky pegasus mare took a bow. 
"And finally, me: Your host, the founder and leader of the Washouts, and the best flier in Equestria. The name's Lightning Dust, and don't you forget it!" 
For her, the audience gave their loudest cheers yet.



"Phew!" Rolling Thunder toweled off her mane and took a swig from her water bottle. "Heck of a show, Lightnin'." The two Washouts shared a celebratory hoofbump. 
"And what did our special guests think?" Lightning asked as she strutted up to the two royal guards. 
Flash Magnus held his tongue on what he actually thought—for now. Instead, he nodded toward the arena, where a medical team had just arrived to take over caring for Short Fuse. "You two don't seem very concerned that your squadmate's on his way to the hospital."
"Nah, Quick Stitch said that Fuse'd be fine," Rolling Thunder replied. "Broken leg, maybe a concussion, that's it. He'll be back in the sky in no time."
"We've all had worse," Lightning added. 
"And that doesn't bother you?" Flash asked them. 
"Why would it?" Rolling Thunder looked genuinely confused. 
Lightning, on the other hoof, just looked mad. "Hey, Thunder, why don'tcha take our friend here for a drink?" She nodded toward Winter. "I think Mr. Pillar of Bravery and I are gonna have a chat." Somehow, Flash's title sounded like an insult when she said it. 
"Sure thing, Lightnin'!" Rolling Thunder walked up to a now utterly star-struck Winter Winds. The leggy mare stood a full head over him. "What do ya say, mate?" She turned and gave the guard a suggestive flick to the nose with her tail. "Fancy gettin' a drink with me?"
Winter's normally off-white face had turned a deep red, and he seemed to have forgotten how to speak. 
"I'll take that as a yes. C'mon then." She trotted off toward the Washouts' trailer. Winter Winds followed as if under a spell. 
There were hundreds of ponies filing out of the arena. Stagehoofs were breaking down the Washouts' props and sets, and packing up to move on to their next show. Two ponies had loaded Short Fuse onto a wagon and were carrying him away toward the hospital. It was a lot of commotion by any measure.
In the middle of it all, untouched by any of it, Flash Magnus and Lightning Dust squared off.
> Sparks Fly
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lightning Dust stalked up to Flash. She smelled like sweat and smoke, with a sharp note of ozone cutting through the rest. 
"I get the feeling you didn't like the show," she said, from far too close to his face. 
"I didn't," Flash answered honestly.
"Let me guess: Too intense? Too many close calls?" she sneered.
"Yes. And on top of that, it didn't look very rehearsed."
"Rehearsed." Lightning spat to the side. "You're used to those picture-perfect Wonderbolts shows where they do it exactly the same every time, huh?"
"That's right. The ones where they practice enough that nopony gets hurt."
"They practice enough that everypony gets bored," Lightning retorted. "How many times can you ooh and aah before you've seen all their tricks? The Washouts keep it fresh!" she concluded with genuine pride.
"You know what I think, Lightning Dust? I think you're too lazy to put in the work."
In an instant, Lightning's expression went from satisfied to murderous. Her namesake flashed in her eyes as she stepped even closer to Flash, who instinctively took a half-step back to match her. 
"Is that what you think?" she hissed. "You think we don't work? You think we don't train?" She jabbed a hoof into his chest. 
Flash came within a hair's breadth of grabbing that foreleg and breaking it. He had to consciously stop his military experience from taking over—this wasn't a battle, and she wasn't an enemy combatant. But then, why was his heart racing, flooding him with adrenaline like he hadn't felt in years? 
"You think," Lightning Dust continued in a growl, "that we aren't out there every bucking day, pushing each other to the limit? You think we could do what we do if we weren't a tighter team than the Wonderbolts have ever been?" She ended her tirade by snorting angrily in Flash's face. "What's your problem, anyway?"
"My—" Flash's throat was suddenly dry, and he gave a quick cough to clear it, "—my problem is that, sooner or later, you three are going to ground yourselves. Or worse. Rolling Thunder almost lost her flight feathers, and Short Fuse is lucky to have gotten away with just a broken leg. And that's just from today's show!"
"For Faust's sake, you sound just like the rest of them. Look, we get it, okay? We know that our shows are dangerous; danger is what we signed up for. We don't need anypony else telling us how to live our lives." Lightning scoffed at him. "Are you seriously the same pony who volunteered to fight a nest of dragons?" 
Two dragons. The thought was so common that it was a reflex by now, but the number of dragons wasn't the point this time. "I fought those dragons because they had my comrades pinned down," he answered instead. "I only ever put myself in danger to save others."
"How noble," Lightning sneered. "Well, we put ourselves in danger to entertain others. You saw the crowd out there; you saw how much fun they were all having. Are you saying that making ponies happy isn't worth some risk?"
"How happy will they be when you can't pretend an accident wasn't serious? Do you think they'll be 'entertained' when one of you dies out there?"
"You tell me, Mr. Ancient Cloudsdalian. What was it like in the Cloudosseum? Weren't you entertained when somepony got killed?" 
Flash raised his eyebrows. "I'm surprised you even know about the gladiatorial shows." It wasn't exactly common knowledge that ancient Cloudsdalians had fought wild animals, monsters, and each other—sometimes to the death—for entertainment. 
"There's more to me than a killer flank." Lightning smirked. "And you didn't answer my question."
Magnus sighed. "A lot of ponies, including me, enjoyed watching the fights," he admitted. "But—"
"Because the danger was real, right?" Lightning interrupted. "It's way different from a rehearsed show."
"It was another age," Magnus countered. "Modern Equestria is a much gentler society than ancient Cloudsdale, and that's a good thing. Besides, what you probably don't know is that the gladiators were prisoners and slaves. If they didn't fight, they'd be killed; but as long as they stayed popular, they'd be treated well."
"Oh." For the first time, Lightning Dust was taken aback. "Okay, I didn't know that. But that's not what the Washouts are about! Nopony's making me do this. And 'gentler society' or not, the ponies love it."
"Until they see one of you die," Flash pressed the point. 
"That's a chance I'm willing to take."
"Seems like there's no chance you aren't willing to take."
"Yeah, that's about right." Lightning finally broke eye contact and walked a few steps away from him. "Hey, maybe I should be the Pillar of Bravery!" 
Magnus scoffed. "What you're doing isn't bravery, it's—!" he lost whatever he was about to say as Lightning started unzipping her flight suit. He quickly turned away to give her privacy, such as it was; the Washouts' stagehoofs and road crew were still all around them. "What are you doing?!"
"Uh, changing?" Lightning answered with an unspoken duh. 
"In front of everypony?! Isn't your trailer right over there?" He pointed in the direction that Rolling Thunder and Winter Winds had gone. 
"Yeah, but I'm guessing Thunder's busy with your friend in there."
If possible, Flash's face grew even hotter. 
"Besides, nopony around here cares about changing in front of each other," Lightning continued. Her remark was punctuated by the sound of her Washouts suit dropping to the floor. "You get used to it."
Indeed, that seemed to be true—the others were just going about their business, and no one gave a second look toward the young, athletic mare who was changing her clothes in front of them. In fact, a moment later a unicorn levitated her flight suit over to a laundry basket with no more shame than if he'd picked up a piece of paper. 
"Wait a sec. Are you shy?" Lightning's hoofsteps came up beside Flash, and he shivered as her tail brushed slowly, teasingly, against him. "The Pillar of Bravery is bashful? That's adorable!"
How did we get here?! Flash wondered frantically. Hadn't they just been at each others' throats a second ago? 
"So—" Flash's voice cracked embarrassingly. "So," he tried again, "the Washouts don't have any fear or shame." 
"You got that right."
He took a breath and turned to look at her again. She was done changing, and stood there in blessedly non-suggestive nakedness. "Does anything bother you, or are you so wrapped up in yourself that you think you're untouchable?" 
"You know what?" Lightning nodded once, slowly. "Yeah. There is something that bothers me: The thought of being old and sick, sitting in some retirement home, waiting to die, and knowing that nopony will remember me. That bothers me a lot." 
Flash opened his mouth with another barb on the tip of his tongue. Then he shut it again; that had been a surprisingly truthful answer from the hotheaded mare, and it made him take a moment to really meditate on what she'd said. For the first time, he felt like they were having an actual conversation instead of an argument.
"Well," he replied more seriously, "you just made me think of something. Senecolt the Younger was a philosopher from my time. He liked to say that... oh, how did he put it? 'It's not really death that we're afraid of, but a wasted life.' Something like that." 
"Yeah, sure, I've read Senecolt." Lightning waved a hoof. "And if you ask me, he'd think that the Washouts are awesome! We're living our lives exactly how we want to, and to the fullest—no wasted time." 
Flash facehoofed. "That wasn't my point. I was going to say that there are better ways to deal with the fear of old age than by getting yourself killed in a stunt show. You can live a meaningful life without having to prove that you're better than the Wonderbolts."
Lightning scoffed angrily and shoved him aside. "You know," she snapped as she stalked past, "when I gave you the backstage pass last night, I was hoping that we could have some fun after the show. I thought you'd be brave enough to handle me. But ever since I got here, you've just been trying to be my bucking dad. Get lost!"
"Gladly," Flash snarled back—so much for their conversation. "And it's not about being 'brave;' you're just out of your bucking mind, Lightning Dust."
Lightning whirled to glare at him. "You have ten seconds to get out of my arena before I kick your flank out myself."
"Your arena? It's Canterlot's arena!"
"My show's in there right now, which makes it my arena. And you've got five seconds left."
Flash gave a furious snort, but took off into the sky and away from the arena. Not that Lightning Dust would have a chance of beating a lifelong soldier in a fight—she just wasn't worth the paperwork he'd have to fill out afterward. 



Several hours later, Flash found himself pacing restlessly around his modest home. He couldn't stop thinking about the show, and the heated debate that had followed it. He felt electrified, and furious—Lightning's audacity was just unbelievable! 
His hooves and wings tingled with restless energy, his chest burned with the desire to go back and tell that cocky pegasus exactly what he thought of her devil-may-care attitude... and for some reason, he couldn't get the enticing smell of smoke and sweat out of his nose. He was jittery, antsy, flooded with adrenaline. 
Lightning's accusation echoed through his head over and over again. You've just been trying to be my bucking dad.
He was a sergeant in the Royal Guard; protecting ponies was his job! Plus, he had to be responsible for his troops. 
But then again, Lightning Dust wasn't one of his troops. Why did he care what she did, or any of the Washouts? The mare had been right about one thing: Nopony was forcing them to live so recklessly. So what did it matter to him if their stupid decisions got them hurt, or worse?
But he did care.
Flash stomped a hoof in annoyance. He was thinking in circles; he needed to do something to clear his head. Maybe flying a few laps around Canterlot would work out some of his nervous energy.
Without giving it any more thought, he left his house and winged into the sky.
> Lightning Strikes
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning, Flash Magnus groggily rubbed his eyes and yawned. His evening flight around Canterlot hadn't cleared his head at all—quite the opposite, in fact. He'd done at least five laps of the city, and each lap had taken him past both the arena where the Washouts' show had happened, and the nearby hospital where (he assumed) Short Fuse was recovering from the accident. He'd returned home with his mind still full of what he'd seen at the show, what he'd said afterward, and countless things he wished he'd said to that insufferable mare.
All of which was to say, he hadn't slept very well last night. 
Well, no matter; a lousy night's sleep was hardly a new experience for a soldier, and it was nothing that a hot breakfast and a cup of coffee wouldn't fix. That was when Flash discovered his next problem: He'd forgotten to go shopping yesterday. 
Oh, buck me hard. He'd been so preoccupied that his errands for the day had totally slipped his mind. If he wanted anything besides oatmeal and slightly-stale bread, he'd have to go out for breakfast. With his mood already slipping from bad to worse, he splashed some cold water onto his face, hastily brushed his short, red mane, and trotted out the door. 
Flash flew in lazy circles around his neighborhood, waiting for someplace to catch his interest. There was a little diner around the corner, but it was empty for a reason. Fritter's didn't serve breakfast. Donut Joe's wasn't too far, but Flash would never understand how some ponies could eat donuts for breakfast. 
Soon, Flash's circles grew wide enough that he could see the arena—as if he hadn't seen enough of it yesterday. The Washouts' caravan was still parked around the venue, though it seemed like all of their things had been packed up. They were probably just waiting for everypony to wake up before they left for their next show, wherever that was. 
Leave it to Lightning Dust to get a late start, Flash thought grouchily. He landed on a cloud with a clear view of the arena and glowered down at it. He'd been hoping that she'd be gone already; gone from the city, and gone from his mind. His mood slipped another notch, to full-on ornery.
Finally, he shook his head, now mostly angry with himself. What, was he planning to stare at the arena until the Washouts finally left? Or was he just hoping to bump into Lightning again? Either way, he was being bucking ridiculous. There was a plate of pancakes and hay bacon waiting for him somewhere in Canterlot, and it sure as Tartarus wasn't here. 
However, before Flash could spread his wings and resume his search for breakfast, a soft thump announced that another pegasus had just joined him. Even without turning, he knew who it was.
"I told you not to come back," Lightning Dust snarled. It sounded like she was in almost as bad a mood as he was.
Flash scoffed. "You don't tell me where I can go." 
"You can go straight to Tartarus!" 
"Make me."
A low, animalistic growl rose from Lightning's throat. It was the only warning Flash got before she tackled him. 
Magnus's breath burst out as the other pegasus slammed into his side. His only saving grace was that she'd only had a few feet to build up speed; she could have broken his ribs if she'd been going much faster. The two of them plowed into, and then through the cloud they'd been standing on. 
Flash quickly twisted in midair and used his hind legs to kick her away. The momentum from the kick sent him into a tight flip, which also served to put a little distance between himself and his opponent. However, by the time he'd righted himself, Lightning Dust was nowhere to be seen. 
"Where'd she—oof!" Lightning knocked the breath out of him again as she crashed into him from above. Her attacks were wild and unpolished; but what she lacked in technique, she made up for in speed and strength. Once more, Flash rolled out of the way and back to create some breathing room for himself. This time, he kept a careful eye on the mare as he spun, and watched her contrail disappear into another cloud. 
Got you.
He feigned confusion and pretended to look around for Lightning Dust. As he did so, he intentionally presented his side to the cloud where she was hiding. It was an irresistible target, and the inexperienced fighter took the bait. 
Flash's ear pricked up at the rushing sound of a pegasus approaching at high speed. He braced for impact, while at the same time relaxing his wings; he allowed the hit to move him through the air instead of trying to take it head-on. 
As Lightning Dust collided with him for a third time, he snapped his wing tightly around her, pinning her to his side. Then, in a single deft motion, he twisted so that she was wrapped in his forelegs instead; face-to-face, with her limbs pinned under his. That left his wings free to keep them both in the air. 
When Lightning tried to kick with her hind legs, he trapped them with his own. She tried to headbutt him in a last furious effort, but he tucked himself tightly into her shoulder and shifted one foreleg to pin her head down. At this point, they were stalemated; as long as he held this position, there was nothing she could do. 
"If this were a battle," Flash whispered, his breath harsh in Lightning's ear, "I would bite your neck right now, and you'd die."
Lightning's ears suddenly stiffened, and she shuddered.
"So," he continued, "are we done here?"
Slowly, shakily, Lightning Dust nodded. 
"Good." 
Flash loosened his grip; he didn't let her go yet, just gave her enough leeway to see if she'd try anything. She attempted to pull away, only to find herself still trapped. 
"Hey, what are you...?" Lightning's question trailed off as she came practically nose-to-nose with Flash Magnus.
Flash was suddenly extremely aware that he and Lightning Dust were breathing heavily, flushed with exertion, and pressed against each other. Lightning's breath was hot across his face—it was minty, but her toothpaste didn't quite mask the scent of rain. His mind seemed to have gone blank, aside from the realization that he was holding a young, fit, and very attractive mare in his arms. 
"Uh—" From the dazed look in Lightning's eyes, she didn't seem to be faring any better. 
"Uh... oh!" Flash suddenly realized what he was doing, and finished letting her go. He quickly turned away and cleared his throat, but found that he didn't have anything to say. For once, the sergeant couldn't seem to think of a good insult or one-liner to throw. 
After a long moment, Lightning broke the silence. "Why don't we, uh, take a break on that cloud over there?" she suggested quietly. 
Flash licked his dry lips and swallowed. "Yeah. Yeah, I could use a break."
The two pegasi drifted in a lazy spiral down to the cloud that Lightning Dust had indicated. The soft cloudstuff felt good on Flash's hooves, and helped to cool him off a little. However, it did nothing for his face, which couldn't have felt any hotter if he'd tried to eat a lightning bolt. 
The two stood in silence for what seemed like ages, and studiously looked everywhere except at each other. Finally, right when Flash was wondering if he should have left after all, Lightning spoke up. 
"Why did you come back?" 
Magnus took a deep breath. "I... I couldn't stop thinking about the show, and about you," he admitted. "I flew off the handle yesterday because I was scared for you three, but you took everything I could throw and gave it right back. Later, I realized that I hadn't felt that kind of a thrill since a thousand years ago. That's when I realized... you scare the hell out of me, Lightning Dust. And I like it." 
Lightning nodded slowly, thoughtfully. "You know what?" she replied. "I respect that. That took guts to say." 
"Pillar of Bravery," he reminded her.
"Oh yeah? Well, Mr. Pillar of Bravery, I... was thinking about you, too." She said it directly to his face, without flinching or looking away. In fact, he noted with some amusement, she looked like she was challenging him.
"You were?"
"Yeah. See, you're the only pony who's ever stood his ground against me; not gonna lie, it was pretty hot," she said with an attempt at her usual smirk.
"Really? The only one?" He raised an eyebrow. "What about the Wonderbolts?"
Lightning snorted derisively. "That wasn't a fight. Rainbow Crash went crying to Mommy Spitfire, and Spitfire just pulled rank. She couldn't handle me, so she gave me the boot."
"Your squadmates?" 
"Nah. Short Fuse backs off when I really get going, and Rolling Thunder just doesn't give a shit."
Flash chuckled. "So, it takes the literal symbol of bravery to stand up to you. That's pretty impressive."
"Hay, I'm just glad that you live up to your title!" Lightning gave him a playful shoulder-check, and Flash barely held back a wince of pain. He was sure that nothing was broken, but he'd have some nasty bruises from their little scuffle.
"Oh yeah, speaking of Short Fuse, how's he doing?"
Lightning shrugged. "The docs say he'll be fine, but he's grounded for a bit. He's gonna stay here in Canterlot 'til he recovers, and catch up with us when he can."
"You not going to wait for him?" 
"Can't afford to," Lightning sighed. "That dragon prop was expensive; it was supposed to be reusable."
"Yeah, it doesn't seem like you got your bits' worth on that one," Flash noted. "So, when do you leave?"
Lightning shrugged. "Whenever. Our next show isn't for a week, and we're only going to Neighagra Falls."
Flash nodded; that trip would only take them a few days. "So, what you're saying is, you've got time to get a drink with me."
"Hmm... I suppose I do." Lightning brushed up against his side. "Now, did you mean a drink, or—" she drew her tail suggestively across his haunch, "—a drink?"
"A drink," Flash repeated firmly. He couldn't quite keep the blush out of his cheeks, though. "My treat."
"Ugh, you're so old-fashioned. Fine. Is there someplace around here that does breakfast and drinks?" 
"Depends on your definition of 'breakfast.' I don't know about you, but I could go for a hayburger after that little workout."
Lightning smirked. "Fritter's, then?"
Flash nodded. "Best spot in town! It's where I met you, after all."
Lightning gagged. "Alright, if we're gonna do this, you need to dial way back on the cheese."
"Huh. Mares used to think I was charming."
"Pfft. Maybe a thousand years ago!"
Flash shrugged. "Sorry. I guess I've got some catching up to do."
"Don't worry," Lightning replied, "if you start to say anything stupid, I'll shut you up."
"You'll shut me—mmm," Flash trailed off as Lightning Dust pressed her lips against his. He closed his eyes as the scent of her filled his nose, and warmth filled his chest. She broke the kiss after a long moment, leaving behind a faint tingle.
"So, what were you saying?" Lightning asked.
"I have no idea."
"Good. Now, about that drink..." She stepped off the side of the cloud and spread her wings. Magnus was an instant behind her.
"Oh yeah," Lightning Dust said as they flew side-by-side, "one other thing."
"Hmm?" 
"What you said about biting my neck? I'm gonna hold you to that."