"Rarity, I really appreciate this, but--"

"Tut-tut-tut!" Rarity said, shepherding Phillip into the main room of the Carousel Boutique. "Everypony deserves to look chic, unique and magnifique; even you, Phillip."

"You've already made me a suit," Phillip protested as Rarity made him stand in the raised circular stand in the center of the room.

"That was a rush job," Rarity countered, already gathering materials in a swirl of purple. "What you need is a proper suit, one that fits properly." She gestured impatiently at him. "Now, come on. Take the vest off."

"No," Phillip said firmly.

"Phillip, I can't get your proper measurements if you're wearing that vest," Rarity said, a bit of impatience entering her voice. "Now come on, take it off."

"No," Phillip repeated, retreating slightly.

Rarity's horn lit up with a purple aura. "That vest is coming off whether you want it to or not," she declared in a rather ominous tone.

Realizing that she was not going to let him leave without taking the vest off, Phillip gave himself over to the inevitable with a small sigh, reaching up to unzip the vest. Smiling, Rarity turned to gather some supplies from the shelves around the room. "You're not going to like this," Phillip said quietly, shrugging the vest off his shoulders and allowing it to fall to the floor.

"Oh, darling, really, I'm sure it's not--" Rarity started to say, turning. She suddenly froze, her speech cut off with a shocked gasp as all the items that she had been carrying clattered to the floor.

It was the first time Rarity--or anypony else in Ponyville--had ever clearly seen Phillip with his vest off. The coat beneath it was adorned with scars, crisscrossing almost the entire whole of his torso. Numerous stabs, scratches, burns and bullet wounds seemed to glow dull red against the milky chocolate brown of his coat. For a moment, Rarity stared in shock, her mouth open.

"Fascinatingly ugly, aren't they?" Phillip said quietly, looking straight ahead, his face and voice neutral.

"How..." Rarity said softly, slowly approaching Phillip. "How did you get all these?"

"You don't live the life I've led without getting hurt a few times," Phil said plainly, avoiding Rarity's gaze as she slowly circled him, her face a mixture of fascination, curiosity and horror. "Every one of these scars is a memory."

"I believe most ponies use a photo album," Rarity said quietly, attempted to put some humor into the tense situation.

Phillip almost smiled. He was not, never had been, and never would be "most ponies."

"That looks very bad," Rarity said, having reached Phillip's left shoulder. There was a very large patch of burn scarring, covering most of Phillip's shoulder and extending down his back.

His home was burning. All around him was screams of terror and pain, intermingling with the terrifying roar of flames. He ran, but the flames surrounded him, seeming to taunt him, moving to block his ever exit. There was a crackling from above and he looked up just in time to see a burning timber falling towards him. It was too late to dodge: the timber struck him in the shoulder and searing pain erupted across his body...

"Accident," he said shortly, in a tone of voice that made it quite clear to even the most tactless pony that he did not want to talk further about it. Rarity was many things, and tactless was not one of them. She allowed the conversation to drop, proceeding to take Phillip's proper measurements. However, curiosity overcame her normal boundaries after a brief internal battle, and she found herself unable to resist asking one question.

"Do they ever hurt?" she asked quietly.

Phillip did not answer for a moment. "Nah," he said finally. "Itch like hell when it's dry, thought."

"Perhaps you should try some skin ointment?" Rarity suggested. "I can recommend some particularly good ones from the spa that should help."

"Mmm," Phillip said quietly. Rarity continued her work in silence, Phillip silently allowing himself to be measured from neck to dock, around his body, from shoulder to shoulder, and around his elbows, wrists and neck. Finally, Rarity gave a satisfied nod, placing a pair of red-rimmed glasses upon her nose to make a few notes on a notepad.

"That will be all for now," Rarity said. "I shall inform you when your new suit is ready for pickup."

"Thank you," Phillip said, recollecting his vest and putting it back on. He turned towards the door and started to exit.

"Phillip," Rarity said. He paused at the door, not turning towards her.

"I'd like to tell you a little secret," Rarity said. "Something that I would never admit to my clients, but that all real fashion designers know." She strode closer to him, moving around to face him, glancing around to make sure that there was nopony in the store but the two of them.

"Clothes don't make a pony beautiful," she said, maintaining constant eye contact with him. "In the same way, scars do not make a pony ugly. What makes a pony truly beautiful is what is in here." She reached out and placed her hoof on his chest, directly over his heart (and an inch down from an old stitch). Phillip looked down at her hoof, then back up at her. His gray eyes, normally so cold and distant, now glimmered like a jewel in darkness.

"And you think I'm beautiful?" he asked quietly, almost disbelieving.

"Quite, darling," Rarity said with a genuine smile, patting Phillip's cheek and coaxing out a small, flushed smile. "Now, you run along now. I have work to do."

"Rarity, I...thank you," Phillip said, stumbling over his words slightly as his smile wavered on his face.

"No need, darling," Rarity said, waving him goodbye as he stepped out and into another beautiful day in Ponyville.

Author's Notes:

So, my latest short story.

Not really sure about the ending. What did you think?