She had grown up among shades of gray.

"There was no talking. There was no smiling. There were only rocks."

Rock farms didn't exist, obviously. Who would farm rocks? It was ridiculous.

She had, however, grown up among rocks.

"There were only rocks..."

That part wasn't a lie.

She'd been born and raised on a depressingly barren settlement along with her two sisters and her mother and father. There, stones littered the cold, hard ground in lieu of grass and flowers, and the trees were dead and almost skeletal with their bare branches. The citizens had long-ago rejected the help of the Weather Pegasi, deeming it "unnatural" to have ponies that controlled the seasons and instead leaving it up to fate. The sky must have been confused by this neglect, and ended up settling on a neutral dull grayness that nopony ever cleared away. The sun never shone, the rain never fell, no plants could grow, and the land began to die, slowly but surely, until there was nothing left but the clouds in the skies.

Gray, just like everything else.

The community they had lived in firmly believed in the rejection of pride and arrogance and in the acceptance of ideals such as "humility" and "submission," and the Pie family had long ago rejected all their worldly goods, surviving on just the barest necessities. Growing up, she'd had no toys or books or games, and they had never celebrated any but the most religious holidays. Days were spent trying to keep the family farm going - "thriving" would have been too much to ask for, so they ended up settling on just scraping by, a decision that suited their minimalist lifestyle.

She'd never had a birthday before coming to Ponyville. She had never expected one or even noticed the absence, as her sisters before her had never had them, either, and it never occurred to any of them that a birthday might be a cause for celebration. In their family, growing older meant that you were expected to do more work.

As the youngest, for a long, long time she was considered too weak to be of much help with the chores, and so she spent her days trying to find amusement wherever she could. Even if she ended up spending the time moving rocks around for fun and trying to make shapes in the dirt with them, or sorting them into different piles based on what little colour they had.

And then one day there was an explosion.

The barrier between magic and reality exploded, sending shockwaves of rippling colour and light across the gray sky.

Only it wasn't gray anymore. The clouds had been cleared for the first time in her memory, revealing the glorious sun and a streak of beautiful colour dancing across the sky.

At the tip of the trailing rainbow wake was what seemed to be a dot of cyan.

She stood and stared in awe, completely oblivious that her normally razor-straight mane had been utterly obliterated. And for the first time, she felt the corners of her mouth begin to turn up into something like a smile.

xxxxx

The shelf in the closet held a cupcake with a bite taken from it, a jar of liquid rainbow, a blurry photo, and a clutch of cyan feathers. To anypony else this assortment of items might seem like random trash, but to the pink pony examining them, they were her most precious treasures.

The cupcake had vanilla frosting and was filled with her favourite hot sauce. She'd given it to Rainbow Dash a few days ago as a joke, who'd taken a single bite before smiled faintly, eyeing it affectionately as she held it. I supposed some ponies just can't handle spicy stuff. Oh well.

She pushed it back to its place on the shelf, and took up the jar of rainbow.

She'd stolen it when Rainbow Dash had given them the tour of Cloudsdale at the Best Young Fliers competition. When nopony was looking she'd secretly filled the jar so that she could take some of it back home with her. She wanted to always have her own personal rainbow to brighten her life with. But then she thought she saw Rainbow Dash notice her sneaking the sample and panicked, pretending that she was trying to taste it, even though she knew how spicy rainbows were supposed to be. Luckily, the others had just written it off as her being random again, and nopony saw her slip the jar of stolen colour into her pocket.

The photo was one that she'd managed to snap in secret while Rainbow was out flying one day. It was blurry because it was almost impossible to get a good action shot of the pegasus, since she just flew so impossibly fast. It had depressed her, and she had begun to practice running so that she could try and keep up with her someday. The thought of being able to run alongside her made her want to sing. She knew she could never fly with her, as much as she wanted to, but that was okay. She'd take whatever she could get.

The feathers had been gathered from all around town. Rainbow Dash was always crashing into things and losing feathers, and Pinkie always found them afterwards. Nopony ever noticed her sneaking them. Nopony ever questioned why she didn't leave feathers everywhere the way other pegasi did.

The memory of Rainbow's scent was so strong that she could swear that it still seemed to cling to the feathers, even after she'd lost them. If she'd asked anypony else they would've said that was impossible, but then how did they explain the scent? It was fresh, like grass and rain and clean air. It was so different from the cloying sweetness that permeated Sugarcube Corner. The scent of chocolate and sugar and warm bread tended to be so thick in the bakery that it made her gag whenever she paused to think about it for too long.

She closed her eyes and smiled, absently stroking the feathers she held. They were so soft, just like Dashie's wings, and if her eyes were shut she could pretend that they really were her wings.

These were her treasures.

xxxxx

One cold, clear night, long after she'd come to live in Sugarcube Corner, she'd been sitting by her bedroom window and gazing at the stars. The streets had been empty, lit only by the glow of Luna's silver moon; and then she'd seen that now-familiar bolt of colour, trailing a shimmering rainbow in the air.

She hadn't even thought about it at the time. As soon as she saw that rainbow, she practically threw herself out the window and began to chase that precious colour, following the trail to its source. And there she was, a pegasus the colour of her precious sky and with a shock of multicolour hair, perched on a cloud, eyes shut in sleep.

That had been the first time she truly saw her. Her first instinct was to wake her up and introduce herself; but as she approached the sleeping pegasus she was struck by a sudden terror, and fled.

Since that very first almost-meeting, she knew, she just knew, that it must have been her. When she'd seen her very first rainbow all those years ago, she could've sworn she saw a pegasus leaving the rainbow wake behind her, but she'd never been sure; and surely only somepony composed of sky and cloud and colour the way Rainbow Dash was could've done something like Sonic Rainboom at the competition confirmed it; the shockwave of colour was identical to the one she'd seen when she was just a little filly.

Rainbow Dash had given her a reason to smile. Her Dashie had brightened her desperate existence, and she would forever be grateful to her for that.

xxxxx

Nopony else knew that she kept these memories.

Every night, when she was all alone and knew that nopony else was awake, she would sneak into the basement of the bakery and into the hidden back room where she locked these treasures away.

She was the only one who even knew this room existed. It was the biggest secret she had, and she didn't want to risk revealing it to any of her friends, as much as she loved them all in her own way. They wouldn't understand how important the items were to her. They would laugh at her, or find it creepy and weird and another sign of the instability they seemed so determined to find in her, or dismiss it as her being unfathomable again before forgetting all about it.

And for some reason the idea of these feelings being dismissed as unimportant was even more unbearable than the idea of her being rejected because of them, because she had never felt anything more important in her entire life.

Some nights...the happier nights, when she'd had a day of Rainbow Dash and pranking and fun and partying...the memory of lingering joy would still reside with her. And then she would wake up and sneak down to her private room and she would sit among her treasures, smiling and dreaming.

Some nights...the sadder nights, when she'd had an especially lonely day for whatever reason...she would wake up and sneak down to her private room and cry and cry and cry, tears trailing down her cheeks and great, heaving sobs breaking free against her will. She never woke up anypony; the room was so hidden away that no one heard her cry. Sometimes she wished that they did, so that they'd come and ask what was wrong, but that never happened.

She cried because she knew that as much as she wanted it, this was something that she could never have. As much as her heart ached for her dearest friend in the whole world, she knew that she would never, ever be able to confess how she really felt, and that she would never, ever be with her, and for a very simple reason.

Eventually, even on the happier nights, a time would come when she couldn't bear to be around Rainbow Dash anymore and she would have to leave the room where she kept the fragments of her. She was always back in her bedroom by sunrise.

She would step inside and close the door. Brush the hair from her eyes and wipe the streaks of tears from her face, hoping her eyes wouldn't be puffy in the morning. It wouldn't due for anypony to notice she'd been crying.

And like every other night, she approached the mirror.

She pressed her hooves against the glass, touching her reflection and sighing in resignation, breath fogging up the mirror as she pressed her forehead against it.

She pulled back, wiped away the fog, and got a good look at herself.

Long, straight pink mane shrouding her face. Dull, expressionless blue eyes with a far-off look to them. Something like a grimace written on her mouth as she stared at herself in stony silence.

Every night ended this way, and every morning began this way.

Pinkamina turned away, and returned to bed.

She wrapped herself in the thick comforter as tightly as possible before closing her eyes. My shift's almost over, she thought with a weak attempt at a smile.

xxxxx

They both wanted nothing more than to be happy. It was just...Pinkamina had lived a childhood of bleak depression, and didn't know how to be happy...and life couldn't be all smiles all the time, yet Pinkie didn't know how to be sad.

The ways things were now were for the best.

Pinkie was for the day, happy and bouncing and full of songs and cheer, spreading love and joy to all the ponies in town. But at night, Pinkamina would slip out for a few hours of quiet freedom and reflection; and if things ever grew too frightening or upsetting or confusing for her alter during the daylight hours, then it was Pinkamina's job to take back the reigns to spare her.

And nothing was more confusing than a love like this. She was strong, though. She could handle it. It was okay. But she knew the truth, and the truth was that as long as she was pushed aside and forgotten, she would never be able to be with Rainbow Dash. Her job was to protect Pinkie from complicated feelings like this, and she couldn't just go ahead and screw everything up between her and Rainbow Dash for her own selfish whims.

She would have to keep them to herself.

Pinkamina was the ghost that Pinkie laughed at to keep at bay. She barely understood who Pinkamina was, or that Pinkie had only manifested because Pinkamina needed her.

She'd accepted that long ago.

In the morning, when Pinkie woke up with a spring in her step and Pinkamina was back in the corner, forgotten and alone, she would only have the faintest memory of what had happened that night. Maybe she would have a sudden desire to find Rainbow Dash for a day of pranking, or maybe she'd throw a spontaneous party for her best friend. Maybe the lingering affection would manifest in some other, wildly unpredictable way. The same way that when Pinkamina woke up at night, she would still feel the lingering joy from Pinkie's happiness. Joy that she would never be able to feel otherwise.

Pinkie would never have the faintest idea of what Pinkamina did at night, because it was her job to keep her happiness safe from troubling emotions like that. She was like her bodyguard, in a way. A knight in shining armour, but without the armour. Or a physical body of her own.

As long as Pinkie had her day, Pinkamina would have her night. And even though she knew that she would never be able to confess her feelings, that she had to bear the burden of them alone for Pinkie's sake, she would still have her dreams, and her memories of colour and of the time she could smile.