WARNING: The last segment of this chapter includes VERY disturbing subject matter (although nothing graphic). Read at your own risk!

Spitfire used her teeth to open the plastic seal on the bag of ice, and carefully shook it into the bucket. The clattering was loud, but not enough to drown out the snoring from behind her. She absentmindedly drummed her hooftips against the porcelain as she held it under the sink, the cold water gushing over the ice cubes until they began floating to the surface. Once the bucket was full, she dipped her hoof in it up to the fetlocks to test the temperature---perfectly frigid---and picked the bucket up, balancing its heavy weight against her chest.

Then she dumped it over Soarin’s head.

“BAH-HAAAH!” he screamed as he spluttered himself awake, flailing and sitting bolt upright. “Wha?! Fuck, what?! Who?! I---”

“SOARIN’ FJADER BRISSON! AT ATTENTION!”

He managed to land on all fours even though he tumbled head-over-ass off the bed; long years of training kicked in and he greeted her with a shaky salute. “Y-yes, ma’am!”

But his knees buckled a second later, and he fell to the floor, clutching his stomach. “Urgh…”

She shoved the newspaper in his face. “Explain this!”

He blinked a few times. “Uh…”

“What the FUCK were you thinking, Soarin’?!” she screamed. “You better start talking, and NOW!”

The combination of the hangover and her eardrum-shattering voice were making his brain slam around in his head, and for a few moments he thought---or hoped---that he was still stuck in some bad dream. His eyes were blurry, but after rubbing the stickiness out of them, he finally noticed what his boss was referring to---after all, the headline was hard to miss.

BREAKING NEWS: Soarin’ of the Wonderbolts confesses!

“Speak, Soarin’! SPEAK! What is the meaning of this?!”

“I-I-I don’t know!”

“That’s not gonna cut it!”

“I really, really don’t know!” he spluttered, his wide eyes trying to read the text that was swimming in front of him. “I was drunk---I don’t remember---“

“Oh, that makes everything okay, I guess!” She rolled the newspaper up and smacked him across the face with it. “Do you know what was waiting outside my door this morning, you fucking half-wit?! A whole flash-bulb phalanx of reporters! Do you think that was pleasant to wake up to?”

He knew better than to say 'Better than a bucket of ice water.' “You hit me,” he whimpered.

“I had to shove my way through them, saying ‘No comment’ over and over again! You made me think they’d found another dead body!” She was pounding her balled-up hooves back and forth in the air. “This isn’t good for my blood pressure!”

He protectively curled a wing up around his face. “Trust me, I-I’m not really happy about this, either---“

“WELL BY ALL MEANS, LET’S MAKE SURE YOU’RE HAPPY, SOARIN’!” She seized the paper, stuffed the top edge in her mouth, and shredded it into a flurry of flakes. “FUCK!!”

“You’re gonna get ink all over your teeth again.”

“How could you do something so---so---so…“

She pressed her hooves against her temples as she fluttered to the floor. “…So brilliant?”

By now Soarin’ had scuttled backwards against the bed. “Uh… come again?”

“You know, this is kind of brilliant,” Spitfire said. Her voice was suddenly dry, as if a blaze had swept through her thoughts, leaving only burnt remains behind. “You managed to take the wind out of his sails.”

I’m dreaming, he thought as he clutched his hindlegs against his body in the fetal position. That’s the only explanation. I must be dreaming.

“Even if he does take the pictures to the papers, it’ll be yesterday’s news at best.” She seemed to be talking to herself. “It’ll be the Sapphire Shores sex tape scandal all over again… remember how her career catapulted after that?”

Yup. I’m dreaming. Either that, or I’m going crazy..

“All we have to do is play this to your advantage,” she went on, propping her elbows on the windowsill and staring down at the streets below. “We’ll wait ‘til you get over this hangover, and then line up some interviews. Some straight-up---no pun intended---and maybe one really teary one. You know, play up the whole sympathy angle, end it with a ‘be true to yourself’ message we could market. It could work.”

No, I’m not dreaming, he decided. I drank myself to death… and now I’m in Tartarus.

“And this isn’t bad timing, either. We’ve had some criticisms about the lack of diversity in our ranks. Poor Echo’s sick of being the token.” When she looked back at him, all the rage was gone from her face, leaving the professional façade she had practiced so well. “Not bad at all.”

Very slowly and tentatively, he uncurled his body. “So, uh… I’m not dead?”

Her snout was suddenly up against his. “Oh, you’re dead. You’re very, very dead---just as soon as I can figure out how to punish you. Capiche?”

“Yeah, I capiche,” he whispered.

“Good.” She paused in the doorway, and glanced back at him one last time. “Clean yourself up, Soarin’, and brush your damn teeth. You smell like Discord’s asshole.”

A full-body tremor shook through him as he watched the door close. Dear Celestia, what have I gotten myself into?!

“G’mornin’, sunshi---“

One step into the room, and already her smile was gone. Flim was sprawled out under the coverlet, snoring and sloppily smacking his lips, obviously in a deep sleep. “Aw, crap.”

Unbelievable! I gotta get up at the crack a’dawn, and this lazy pony can’t even be bothered to get up fer ten? She sunk her teeth into the side of the pillow and yanked it out from under his head. “HEY!”

He woke up a second after his face hit the mattress. “Wha---? Huh---?!”

Applejack frowned, watching as he tried to shake the sleep out of his eyes. “Dammit, Flim, I toldja yesterday I’d be here at ten!”

It took him a few seconds to get his bearings, and with a groggy voice he mumbled “Huh? What time is it?”

“Ten! The time I toldja I’d be here! Honestly, I don’t expect ya t’be all dressed up fancy fer me, but the least y’could do is be awake.”

“Oh.” Flim put his hooves to the mattress and shuffled himself into a sitting position. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said with a yawn. “I didn’t sleep a wink last night. I guess I must have drifted off.”

His uninjured eye did seem to be a little baggy. “Whatsa matter? Didja have nightmares?”

“No. The nightmare was in the other room,” he said, flicking a hoof over his shoulder. She returned his pillow, and he scowled as he fluffed it back up. “They brought in some crazy bitch after you left, and she spent the whole night screeching at the top of her lungs.”

’Some crazy bitch’? “Huh? Who was she?”

“I don’t know! Some lunatic! She kept throwing herself against the walls until they restrained her. Then she howled for the next eight hours straight about bugs and snakes coming out of the wallpaper.” He rapped a hoof against the wall. “In case you haven’t noticed, Applejack, there isn’t any wallpaper in here!”

“Oh, no,” she whispered. She only knew of one pony who had hallucinations like that. “Oh no… Oh, poor Screw Loose…”

“Her name is Screw Loose? Ha!” He flopped back down and folded his arms over his chest. “And here I thought Flam and I were the ones with the most appropriate names.”

She smacked his shoulder as hard as she dared. “Hey! Don’t you make fun a’her! She’s a friend a’mine!”

Turning to the open door, Applejack put a hoof to her mouth and started to nibble. She knew she’d probably walked over some manure on her way out of the farm, but it was hard to repress these nervous habits. “The poor thing! She musta gone off her meds.”

“Yes, and the rest of us had to suffer. They should lock ponies like her up.”

“Flim, you insult her one more time, and I’ll rip you a new one!”

He pulled away from her snarl, his eyes wide with fear---and then it dawned on her. She suddenly knew the perfect thing to say: “Yer bein’ a hypocrite, y’know! YOU gotta take meds t’keep from havin’ panic attacks. Yer brain ain’t perfect, either, so don’t you DARE think less a’her! She’s sick! She can’t help it anymore than you can!”

For a second it looked like he was about to go into one right in front of her---then his pupils returned to their normal size, and he looked away, blushing. “I… oh, gods. You’re right.”

“Damn straight.”

“Applejack.” The hoof he placed over hers was gentle, and shaking just a little. “You’re absolutely right. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m… sorry.”

They stared at each other, and seemed equally surprised by the concern reflected in the other’s eyes. It was Applejack who broke the tension, first with a peck to the cheek, and then with a murmured “I’m sorry too, sugarcube. I ain’t been havin’ a great day, either.”

“How so?”

“Well, t’start with, I hadta ask Granny to go buy, uh…” She nervously crossed her back legs. “A… a breastmilk pump,” she said, the last two words barely audible.

The corner of his mouth curled up. “Oh?”

“Don’t you go gettin’ any ideas, now,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “Yer meals are s’posta come on little plastic trays, not outta my teats.”

“Oh, come now. You liked it just as much as I did.”

She hadn’t yet sat down, so she shoved the chair to the side and leaned in to press her face close to his. “I said NO!”

“Applejack---“

“I’m more than jes’ a milk factory an’ a piece of ass, Flim!”

“Applejack,” he said again as he took her face in his hooves, “Of course you are. I didn’t mean anything by it.” He twisted his lips a little when he noticed she was still flushed and huffy-looking. “If that’s all I thought of you, we wouldn’t spend so much time just talking, would we? Now, come.” Stroking the side of her mane, he leaned his weight on his opposite elbow and patted the comforter beside him. “Sit yourself down. I’ve been waiting all morning for your visit.”

“Me too,” she said quietly.

“Besides, you can’t fault a hot-blooded stallion for getting a little dizzy around a beautiful mare, can you?”

She smiled faintly at the compliment, but her expression was wan. It wasn’t until she plunked herself on the creaky chair that she realized how much her hindlegs were trembling. He must have noticed it too, because once she was seated he placed his hoof on her thigh, and nuzzled his snout up against hers. “Is something the matter?”

“Uh… yeah, but…”

“But what?”

She’d been half-turned away from him, so she slowly eased her weight from one hip to the other, her haunches squeaking the cheap vinyl below until they were face-to-face, and she caught his flash of concern when he saw her expression. “Uh, I don’t wanna worry you, sugarcube, but, uh… I…”

“Don’t worry. You can tell me anything you want.”

“I--- I met yer sister,” she blurted, and pulled her lip between her teeth.

Her eyes darted around his face, searching for some adverse reaction, but Flim just nodded.

Gesturing over her shoulder, she stammered “A f-few minutes ago. On the way here.”

“Okay,” he said, his expression still stoic, “I’m waiting for the punchline.”

“There ain’t no punchline, Flim! She’s here! In fact,” she said with a glance behind her, “I’m surprised she ain’t here now. I ran into her at Sugarcube Corner---“

“Are you kidding me?” Then he pressed a hoof against his forehead, his eyes squeezed shut. “No. Let me rephrase that: you’re fucking kidding me.”

Applejack reached across his body and seized his hoof, forcing him to look up at her. “I ain’t kiddin’! Fer all I know, she could be headed here now!”

“Applejack.” He placed his other hoof on top of hers, and she could swear she felt a little quaver there. “I know you’re not one to lie, but---are you sure it was her?”

“Positive. I recognized her the minute I looked in her eyes. She…” She looked down at her saddlebags, and felt a shudder go up her spine when she remembered the earlier intrusion. “She did this trick---“

The side of his face pulled up in a sneer. “Oh, let me guess. ‘The first one’s free’?”

“Yeah, exactly! Made me feel dumber’n a rock in a diamond mine!”

“Don’t feel too bad about it. She does that to everypony,” he muttered. Then his eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Wait a minute---why is she here?! How did she know where we were?”

“Flam sent her a telegram.”

“Really.”

“Uh-huh.” She felt a little justified when she saw that he looked as pissed as she was.

“Well, fine. That’s fine,” Flim said darkly. “I’ll just shave his moustache off in his sleep.”

She had to chuckle at that. “You know how I got back at my brother once? I switched his magazines with Granny’s.”

The sour look on his face was already gone. “Applejack, if you mean what I think you mean---!”

“Oh yeah. He sure was shocked when he got out the lotion, reached under his mattress, and found ‘Quilters’ Quarterly’ instead,” she said with a huge grin. “Granny’s reaction was pretty funny, too.”

“I didn’t know you were such a sadist!”

“He deserved it. I snuck in after curfew, and he squealed on me.”

“I’ll have to remember not to get on your bad side,” he said, pressing his frog against her cheek.

“Y’ain’t doin’ bad so far,” she replied with a nuzzle. “In fact, I gotta say… I’m pretty impressed.”

“I try.” They smiled at each other for a moment before the affection in his eyes shifted back to concern. “Er, did you just come here to tell me the bad news?”

“Nah. I mean, I did think y’oughta know, but, um…” Her cheeks were heating up. “I kinda jes’ wanted t’feel yer arms around me,” she finished, her voice shy and hushed, leaning forward off the chair and onto the mattress.

“You took the time out of your day just to hold me?” he said as he helped her onto the bed, his hooves around her ribs and his magic cradling her belly.

The mattress groaned as she laid herself down, and she tucked herself around him. Their forelegs entwined easily, as if they’d been lovers for years, not just days. “Uh-huh.”

Even though his chin was on her head, she could sense him smile. “You’re such a sweet girl,” he sighed.

“I---“

The curtain rings screeched as it slid against the rod, making them both jump. Flim chuckled and clutched her tighter.

“I don’t think I’m ever gonna get used to that,” Applejack said with a weak laugh.

“Did you see the spark this time?”

“Nope. I wasn’t lookin’.”

“It’s a pale yellow,” he whispered against her mane. “It’s beautiful.”

She looked down at her belly; this time, she’d actually felt something burbling inside her when it had happened. Were the surges getting stronger? “How long’s this gonna last?”

“I’m not sure,” he replied. “You should ask the doctor.”

She opened her mouth to say something, but instead released her breath in a quiet puff when she felt the tip of his tongue on the roots of her hair. “Y’think she’s tryna tell me somethin’?”

“I have no idea.”

He was nudging her with his knee, and she shuffled around, lifting a hindleg to let him slip his thigh between hers; but instead of grinding, as she expected him to do, he just slid it up against her body and left it there. It felt like he was trying to deepen their embrace---not pushing, not insistent, not demanding. Just sweet. She squeezed him with her legs, sighing as he groomed her.

“Can I tell ya somethin’?”

“Of course, sweetheart.”

“I…” She wetted her lips before placing a little kiss on his neck. “I miss you.”

He paused, his tongue sticking out of his open mouth. She could feel it pressing against her scalp. “What do you mean? I’m right here.”

“No, I mean I miss you at night.” Her tail swished over her hips and came to rest on his cutie mark. “My bed feels so empty without you in it.”

“I know the feeling.” His head craned up as he looked at the ceiling. “I hate being in the hospital. It’s just so… so cold and sterile.” Then he kissed her forehead, and went back to grooming. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I look forward to your visits.”

She could barely believe what she was saying, but the words came out of her unbidden: “I s’pose if we got married, we could… y’know… do this all the time.”

“…What?”

“We could wake up like this every morning,” she said softly as she hugged him closer. “We could make love every night, and, uh, you could nurse on me all ya want.”

“Are you… changing your mind?”

“No,” she said, even though it felt reluctant. “I’m jes’ sayin’… I mean…I don’t mean… I think…”

“Applejack, just say it. I’m not going to judge.”

She filled her lungs and held the air there for as long as she could---and then pushed out in a rush “Flim, I think I’m fallin’ for ya.”

She quickly closed her eyes and pressed her muzzle against his chest. For a few long seconds, all she could hear was her pounding heartbeat, ricocheting against his. Did I just say that out loud?!

Finally, Flim pulled away enough to look her in the eye. “Don’t,” he said.

She could feel her guts crawl up into her throat. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t fall for me,” he repeated. “You’ll get hurt on the way down.”

Applejack’s lips parted, but nothing came out of her mouth. Before the gears in her brain could start rolling again, a loud shriek startled them as it echoed down the hallway.

“EEEAH-AAAAAAAH!!!”

“Great. There goes your friend again,” Flim muttered.

Her ears immediately snapped back. No. That wasn’t Screw Loose’s voice. Loosey had a rough, smoke-hewn alto---but that, THAT voice, was a wailing soprano. A voice Applejack had heard many times before.

“Berry!” she screamed, and took off out the door, even before Flim could call to her. She went skidding into the hallway, her shoulder bumping against the opposite wall. “Let me in!”

The two nurses at the door jolted in surprise, and one of them put her forelegs out to hold her back. “Ma’am, we can’t---!”

“She’s my friend!” she shouted, throwing herself against them, trying to get at the door. “She needs help! Please!”

“We can only let family memb---“

“Dammit, she’s my FRIEND!”

The younger nurse, the one with the pale coat, managed to pry Applejack’s hooves off the door with her magic. “Ma’am, our patient is suffering considerably! We can’t let you in.”

“But---“

“She’s in no state to see you!” she shouted as she used the heft of her body to push Applejack away; her back hooves scuttled against the tiles before shooting out from under her, and she sat down heavily, squashing her dock underneath her so hard she groaned in pain.

“Oh my goodness.” Instantly both nurses were at her side, one of them sliding her forelegs around her back to help her up, the other frantically running her frogs against the swollen belly. “Ma’am, I am so sorry! I didn’t mean to make you fall!”

She squirmed to the side, grimacing. “Getcher hooves off me!”

“Good. The fetus is still moving,” the young nurse told the other. “But we’ll still have to check for spotting---“

“DON’T TALK ABOUT ME LIKE I AIN’T HERE!” she roared, and with one final thrust of her forelegs, she managed to dislodge them both. She was shaking far too badly to stand up, so instead she leaned her spine against the wall, taking breath after brittle breath.

The nurses watched her draw her knees against her body. Then one of them began with “You should---“

“Leave me alone.” Applejack folded her arms over her belly, and then rested her head on them. “Leave me alone. Jes’ leave me alone.”

They exchanged a nervous look, and the younger one excused herself after her superior gave her an affirming nod. Making sure to keep enough distance, she lowered herself to Applejack’s level, and gently told her “For what it’s worth, I’ve seen this before. Your friend will be out of the I.C.U. in a day or so. You can visit her then.”

She didn’t look up.

“And I’m sorry about my colleague; she’s still a greenhorn, you know? I could tell that you landed on your hindquarters, which means the fetus should be fine. Still”---she patted Applejack’s shoulder and quickly withdrew her hoof before it could be swatted away---“You should get a quick check-up, just to make sure.”

“Leave me alone.”

She waited until she couldn’t hear the nurses’ hoofsteps any more before lifting her head. She didn’t dare go into Berry’s room, and she wasn’t sure if she was ready to go back to Flim’s, either.

“Damn,” Applejack whispered through her tears. “Oh, damn, damn, damn.”

“Are you going to go visit Flim again?” Trixie asked, one hindleg lazily swinging back and forth off the side of her cot.

“Of course. But I want to check the post office first.”

She smirked as she watched him put the final twirl on his moustache. Even before he grew it, Flam was the only stallion she knew who spent more time primping in the morning than she did. “Still waiting to hear from Her Royal Cuntiness, are you?”

The back of his mane ruffled a bit, but he kept a straight face. “Yes, and don’t call her that.”

“Why not? You should be the last one defending her! Why, she broke out your---“

“I know. I was there.”

“And didn’t you tell me she locked Flim in the boiler room for six hours?”

A less-observant pony would have missed it, but she’d seen the way the edge of his jaw seemed to clench. “Seven, actually. And only because he flooded the kitchen.”

“You’re taking her side on that?”

“Trixie.” Flam turned from the mirror, his eyebrows knit. “I’ve asked you before not to badmouth my family.”

She got off the cot and sauntered up to him. “Oh, fine. But you know Trixie holds grudges against anypony who hurts her pookie.”

Just as she knew he would, he huffed and blushed as she squeezed his cheeks together. “Stop it!”

“Speaking of your family…” Trixie trotted her way around him, making sure to brush against him with little caresses of her tail, “Do you approve of your brother being all chummy with what’s-her-face?”

The way his leg jerked up assured her her teasing was starting to have an effect, but he still sounded cranky. “You know I don’t.”

Her tail hit his side again, but it was starting to lash back and forth. “I still can’t believe it. That little inbred bumpkin hit me---she HIT me right across the face!---and Flim he, he just sat there! No, he did worse than that---“

“Trixie…”

“Not only did he let it happen, but he told me to apologize! Me! Trixie! Oh, I’m going to get her back for that, and you know I will, Flam!”

He dodged her hoof as she gesticulated. A prickle of sweat was starting under his collar; he wasn’t sure how, exactly, but somehow she’d gone from zero to conniption fit in the time it had taken him to knot his tie. “Sugarplum, maybe you should take a few deep breaths---“

“Does she really think Trixie will just lay down and let some--- some dirty little mud pony tread all over her?” She tossed her mane over her shoulder. “Ha! The day I sit back and let some silt-for-brains strike me---”

“Okay, stop. Trixie, stop.” She was still pacing around, but he’d seen the way her ear twitched. That meant she was listening, if only half-heartedly. “We have to talk about that.”

“About what?”

Flam took his hat off and pretended to adjust the brim as he tried to figure out how best to handle this. “You… aren’t happy here…”

“Well no fucking shit!”

“I know you don’t like Ponyville,” he said carefully, “But it was founded by Earth ponies, and if you keep talking like that, you’re going to get yourself in a lot of trouble---“

“Trouble? Hah! You don’t know the meaning of ‘trouble’!”

“Remember that swanky bar in San Broncsisco?”

That seemed to catch her off-guard. “Which one?”

“The one that you last saw upside-down as you were being thrown out the back door,” Flam said in a grim voice. “Remember now? I came sailing out a second later, even though I was trying to apologize to the Earth pony bouncer!”

“That place was a dive!” she shouted. “They didn’t deserve our business!”

“That may be, but they also didn’t deserve to be called a ‘bunch of illiterate clay-brains’, either!”

“Oh, Flam! she said in exasperation, “Haven’t you heard of ‘freedom of speech’? I’m allowed to say what’s on my mind, especially when I have to deal with somepony who eats with the very hooves they’ve been walking on all day! It’s disgusting!”

“Trixie, it’s rude!”

“When are you going to get it?” she tutted with a pitying shake of her head. “We’re unicorns. We were created this way for a reason.” Her eyes lit up as something dawned on her: “Speaking of reasons, give me one good reason---ONE reason!---why I should have to tolerate somepony below my station!”

“Windigoes,” he deadpanned. “That ring a bell? Big, scary ice horses who bring about worldwide starvation because of racism?”

“Oh, pfft. Aren’t you a little old to be believing in Hearth’s Warming stories?”

His ears pinned back, and he felt his nostrils flare as he shot his breath out. He was planning on saving his trump card for later, but this was just getting unbearable. “Okay, how about this reason: you’re a ‘soil-stain’ yourself!”

Her hoof skidded out from under her, and it was only a quick shuffle that saved her from falling over entirely. When she turned around, it was very slowly, her hackles all bristled up. “Wh… what?”

“Trixie, I know you’re half-Earth,” Flam said gently. He had expected her look of shock, but her shining, wavering eyes were making his chest feel tight. “I don’t know why you hid that from me for so long.”

Seeing as she was still frozen in place, he took a tentative step towards her, hoping his little smile would show under his facial hair. “Sugarplum, you have to know that your words don’t just hurt Earth ponies. Whenever you say something like that, I feel a little sting, too. I never knew my father… for all I know, I could be half-Earth.”

A squeak left her throat.

“At least you got to meet your dad,” he sighed. “Do you know how lucky you are?”

“…Lucky?”

“Yes, lucky.” Now that the distance was closed between them, he let his hooftip trace along her cheek. Her coat felt hot, her blush glowing right through it. “I’m sorry, but… when you were sleeping, I found your photo album.”

The look of horror on her face grew as he magicked the offending item out from under the bed. “Y-you went through my stuff?”

He laid it down between them, but decided not to open it to the last photograph. “I didn’t mean to pry,” he said as he lifted his hoof to her mane, running the silky strands around his fetlocks. “I just happened to notice… I mean… you had this family portrait---“

She smacked his foreleg away. “You went through my STUFF?!”

“Trix---“

“How dare you! You nosy, prying little bastard! You had no right---!”

And just like a blade through cloth, her voice shredded into nothingness as she choked on the last word. Her whole face, from her chin to her eyebrows, knotted into a grimace, and she whipped around on the spot.

After staring at her for a few seconds, Flam shifted his weight from hoof to hoof, unsure whether to step forward to comfort her, or to flinch back. He could usually read her well, but when she had her face turned away, he had no way of knowing what was going on inside. “I’m sorry, sugarplum.”

She didn’t respond, but he could hear her tight, quick breaths.

“I truly am. I didn’t think---I wasn’t thinking.” He gave her enough time to reply, but when she didn’t, he went on: “I just don’t understand it, Trixie. If you’re half-Earth, why do you say such nasty things?”

Nothing.

“I, er, I don’t think any less of you, you know. You know you can tell me anything, right?”

Still nothing.

“Why are you so angry, Trixie?” Flam said. He hated to hear the pain, the sadness in his voice. “Can’t you let me in enough to help you?”

Her head lifted, just a bit. But she was still silent.

“Trixie… I love you.”

When she began to speak again, her voice was quiet. Dangerously quiet. “Flam, you were a virgin when we met. I wasn’t.”

Had he heard a tremor there? “Sugarplum, you know I’d never hold that against you. I don’t judge---“

“LET ME FINISH!”

She hadn’t turned, but she’d heard a couple of shaky, retreating hoofsteps. After taking a few breaths to calm herself, she continued in that eerie, hushed tone: “You asked me once who my first was. I said I didn’t remember.”

Even though she couldn’t see it, he nodded. He had thought that was kind of odd---who wouldn’t remember their first lover?

Flam continued to stare at her back. Her ribs were slowly moving in and out with her breaths. A full minute stretched on before he cleared his throat---and, with the sudden, shocking speed of a tornado, she grabbed the photo album in both hooves, tore out the family portrait, and shoved it in his face, his eyes perfectly lined up with the burned-out holes where her father’s used to be.

“ASK ME AGAIN!” she screamed. “ASK ME AGAIN! ASK ME WHO MY FIRST WAS! ASK ME WHO TOOK THAT FROM ME! ASK ME, FLAM, ASK ME!!”

He sat down with a thud when, like a cold shudder, the horrible realization wormed its way inside him. “Oh… Oh, Celestia, no…”

Her voice dropped an octave, imitating a stallion’s: “’Oh, don’t you worry, honey, Little Bea just had another one of her nosebleeds. That’s why there’s blood all over her FUCKING BEDSHEETS!’” She seized the album in her magic and sent it crashing against the wall. “Do you get it now, you son of a bitch? Do you get it?!”

“I didn’t---Why---“

“Yeah, go on! Keep asking me questions, Flam, because I would so love to relive every. Last. Detail! It’s not like I spent my entire life trying to forget!!”

“Trixie!”

He tried to reach for her when she burst into tears, but she slammed past him and out the caravan door. “Trixie, wait!”

She was running faster than he’d ever seen before; he’d barely made it out the door, and she’d already crested the nearest hill, her tears blowing back into her mane.

“Wait! Trixie, I’m sorry! I---“

The blow to his shoulder caught him totally off-guard, and before he knew what had happened he was staring up at the sky, the grass tickling his back. “What the---?!”

“Let her go.”

He tried to sit up, but a sturdy elbow pressed against his chest and forced him back down. “I said, let her go.”

Flam started to thrash. “Piss off, you bitch! This is none of your business!”

“Isn’t it?”

“No!” he shouted as he rolled away from his attacker. “And if you tackle me once more, I swear to Celestia I’ll have your head!”

“Why?” she said simply as she yanked at his ear. “After all, you were the one who sent for me.”

Their eyes finally met, and Flam could feel his heart drop into his bowels.

“Damnation, Connie,” he mumbled, closing his eyes. “You really do have the worst timing.”

Author's Notes:

Bet you thought I forgot about Berry, eh?

So. Soarin's name is based on a real Swedish name, so I gave him a Swedish middle and surname. "Fjader" means "feather" and "Bris" means "breeze"; using the Nordic naming system, I turned it into "Brisson" (i.e. "son of Bris". I realize now this is probably inadvertently hilarious for Jewish people.)

Anyway.... whew. Sorry for such a dark chapter right before the holidays, but this had to be done! Thanks for sticking with me through all this angst!