Chapter One

The guitarist’s first few bars rang out across the packed and crowded stadium of Cloudsdale. Approaching the podium, with your closest co-workers by your sides, you rustle your wings. This was to be your last show ever, the big send off you had been waiting for for the last few months, your time to give it one last bang.

“THUNDER!” The crowd yelled in time with the singer.

“THUNDER!” The second roar came...

“THUNDER!”

Appleseed/DC had come up with the song specifically for this routine, striking up as the pegasi either side of you flung their wings up. Their

“THUNDER!” the singer bellowed with a clap of his hooves to the sound of the drummer’s massive bass drum, your cue to raise the two huge ash grey wings at your side. The phrase was repeated by the crowd, laughing and cheering as they watched you and the rest of the team take flight.

“It was cold, in the middle of a gryphon attaaaaack...”

As the band continued, you and the rest of the wonderbolts continued to climb, two splitting off at around one hundred meters up, two more at four hundred meters, another pair at six hundred meters, leaving you flanked by Spitfire and Soarin. They split off at eight hundred meters, leaving you to climb to one kilometer alone.

As you reached your peak, the signal reached you.

“The thunder of hooves, tore me apaaart... You’ve been,” the singer starts, the drummer beating the bass drum several times, “THUNDERSTRUCK!”

You take a massive breath before making your dive, compensating for the lack of oxygen at so far above ground, even Cloudsdale looking like little more than a city of ants. Your own trail, that of cloud and lightning, flowed from your tail as you dove, crackling on the breeze. Flapping your wings as hard as you could, you could feel the air around you compressing; you kept your breath held. You join up with the others, your group performing an incredibly intricate system of mid-air twists and turns causing your trail to mix with theirs in a double-helical pattern at close to the speed of sound.

Flapping harder, the group come out of the helix and pull up into a star-burst formation, allowing you to return to higher than your previous point. Finishing your climb, you find yourself having lost your breath, and finally gulp as you realised you had reached fifteen hundred meters. Breathing in, nothing happens, and your muscles seize up with lactate, preventing you from using your wings to keep yourself aloft.

You plunge.

The last thing you remember is shooting through the middle of the airborne stadium to the horror of the crowd, and the determined look of the single white spectator in the royal box, before slowing as you felt the immensely powerful tingle of alicorn magic envelop you.

Chapter Two

“Alright, we’ve got a pegasus male, approximately fifty years of age, suffering atmospheric hypoxia. The paramedics got him on oxygen and his safety bloods are on their way to the lab, his heart is thready but stable so please get the cart and keep it on standby. Oh manure, he’s arresting, GET THE CART” The matron barked, pushing your gurney through the doors of the busy ward. A red unicorn mare disappeared, appearing moments later with the ward crash cart.

“Nurse Dearheart, take over BLS, thirty to two. Tenderheart, apply oxygen.”

Two other nurses snap into action, one starting chest compressions, the other placing a bag attached to a mask over your muzzle. After thirty compressions, Tenderheart squeezes the bag twice, forcing oxygen to saturate your lungs. Still un-responsive, the matron places her head against your mouth, one hoof on your pulse.

“Okay, it’s a witnessed arrest, I’m going to administer a pericardial thump in three, two, one”

She brings both front hooves down on your sternum. Still no response.

“Nurse Brush, charge to three hundred. Dearheart, Tenderheart, continue BLS until she’s charged. Redheart, please prepare half a ml of one in a thousand of adrenaline, keep it on standby; find the GTN spray and prep that for use as well.”

The young red mare closes her eyes, crackles of electricity building within her horn. She nodded to the matron.

“Everypony clear, Miss Brush, when you’re ready!”

The ginger maned mare places her hooves on your chest, one on the upper right, another on your lower left side. There was a jarring sensation and she discharges, making your spine involuntarily arch and you take a deep gulp of oxygen after the mask was placed back on your face moments later. The pain in your chest eases and you see all five nurses visibly sigh with relief. As you lay there, the matron tells Nurse “Redheart” to stay by you until one of the doctors is able to assess your condition further.

Unable to speak, you simply watch her. She can see your eyes flicking around the room, and chatters to you as she tends to other patients on the ward. Settling down for a few minutes, she mentions a little about herself, being from a small town a fair distance away from Cloudsdale and that she had been on a rotation at the hospital in order to keep her skills in acute emergency management.

Eventually, the shock and trauma of what happened wore off of you, and you were able to converse with the mare. You found something about the earth pony fascinating, she was nothing like the usual fillies you met during your time with the Wonderbolts; highly strung and sexually crazed sports fans looking to bag themselves a celebrity. She revealed that many of the staff at the hospital were unicorns and earth ponies that had received a little magic allowing them to work within the cloud city; few pegasi having a gift for medicine had made this somewhat a necessity.

You were fairly certain that she was at least somewhere near your age, if not slightly your junior. Her white coat was impeccably clean as expected and worked well against her light pink mane, tied in a conservative looking bun behind her head. You noticed her eyes were the same colour as your own, a gentle blue-gray colour surrounding her pupils.

“So, is there a Mr. Redheart?” you ask her when she stops by the bed again, your voice still slightly weak.

“No, there isn’t.” she replied, blushing gently.

“Well, would you be interested in dinner some time? I know this great little place in Cloudsdale,” you begin before being cut off.

“I’m sorry, I really am, but we’re not allowed to date patients.” the mare responded, looking into your eyes as she said it.

Slightly crushed, you changed the conversation, asking more about things such as hobbies, moving on to discuss how the life of a Wonderbolt member compared to being a nurse. She didn’t seem too fond of celebrity culture, something that the two of you had in common, and you readily agreed that nurses deserved more money for the hours they put into their profession - revealing that a fair chunk of your salary went towards a foundation providing clean drinking water and medical help to homeless foals in Zebrica. The pair of you continued talking to each other for a good hour or so longer, enjoying the company, when a doctor appeared to give you a brief look over.

You’re somewhat saddened when he gives you a clean bill of health, but thank Nurse Redheart for having kept you company and trot out of the hospital un-aided. Thinking about the experience, you decide that maybe travelling to insane altitudes wouldn’t be that great an idea to try again and make a mental note of it. Thinking about the nurse who had been talking to you - you couldn’t get her out of your head, she had been the first mare to have ever turned you down, but at least that was because you were her patient...

Then it hit you. You had been her patient. You weren’t now.

Grinning, you take flight and flap around trying to find a florist you was still open. You had spent a fair amount of time in the hospital before your discharge; it was now nine in the evening and you doubted you’d be able to find anywhere still selling flowers. Dejected, you end up flying back to your own home, planning to find somewhere tomorrow and then go to find the pretty nurse.

Chapter Three

The first thing you do the next morning is stop at a small shop and buy flowers on your way to the hospital; a bunch of bright red roses for Nurse Redheart, as well as a very large box of chocolates that you planned to give to the other nurses that had saved you. Upon entering the building and making your way back to the ward, the matron informs you that Nurse Redheart was actually on an off day today, so she wouldn't be in at all. You leave the hospital still with the roses tucked safely beneath your wing, and decide to try and track the mare down.

You knew that she was from Ponyville, and you could remember that the town wasn't exactly huge, so maybe somepony there would be able to tell you where the nurse lives?

Shaking your head, you realise that tracking her down would make you seem like some sort of crazy stalker - definitely not the look you wanted to give. Instead, you decide to simply spend time about town, spending your next few weeks sick leave learning more about Ponyville, travelling there each day and enjoying the sights in a restful environment whilst hoping to accidentally catch the dedicated and enthralling mare.

You spend the next few days visiting a small cafe in the town, ordering a croissant each lunchtime and watching Ponyville during every day life. One of the first things you notice is a member of the weather team, an incredibly fast rainbow blur bouncing between clouds, shifting them from one place to another. Something about the flier felt familiar, and you realise that the mare was a fan, the one who had saved Spitfire and Soarin at the young fliers competition a year or two back. You frown slightly, wondering if she ever applied to join the ‘bolts, amazed by her technical ability fuelled by her pure, un-tainted talent.

“She crashes just as often as she succeeds, you know.” says a familiar voice from behind you. Your heart leaps as you turn to see nurse Redheart stood, carrying a fresh and wonderful-smelling baguette in her saddlebag. She looked slightly different outside of work, missing her hat and with her mane out of it’s bun and hanging around her face, you’re suddenly aware of how young and beautiful she looks when not burdened with the stresses of working a busy emergency ward.

“Hmm. I remember being like that. I miss the old days.” you sigh,

“Sounds like somepony wishes he’d done things differently? Are you alright?” she asks, sitting across from you, you turning around to face her on your chair.

“I’m okay, just miss being young.”

Redheart smiles, “I’ve seen you here pretty much every day, were you watching her?”

Your brain kicks you for paying so much attention to the younger mare in the sky; panicking, you tell the truth.

“No, actually, I’ve been hoping to run into you, I didn’t have the courage to find out where you live.”

“Matron should have offered to take a message, I’m sorry you’ve been given the run around because of me...”

“Well, how about that dinner I offered?” you reply, smiling. She looks at you, evidently thinking it over, before finally speaking up.

“Alright, I don’t think I’d be able to get out of this,” she says, laughing gently, “although I still don’t understand what you see in me....”

You blush, and figure that you have nothing to lose in being honest with Redheart, “You cared. I’ve never had that before. Every mare to ever take an interest in me, has always adored the uniform more than the stallion under it.”

“How do you know I wasn’t just doing my job?” she asks, her voice becoming warmer as she plays with you a little.

“You didn’t have to sit with me, you didn’t have to talk to me whilst I was barely conscious and unable to reply,”

She blushes again, and gazes at you for slightly longer, her eyes almost able to read your innermost thoughts before you finally decide to speak up, asking if she’d be willing to come to Cloudsdale with you to a five-star restaurant. She agrees, suggesting tomorrow night, and your heart leaps once more, making you feel like a teenager again. Trotting around the town with her for a little while, she tells you more about Ponyville than you had been able to work out during your visits there over the last few weeks. Redheart also explains local customs, including Winter Wrap-Up and the Running of the Leaves, as well as pointing out small “unique” businesses that contribute to the wonderful small-town feel of Ponyville, such as the Quill and Sofa Store, Sugar Cube Corner or Mr Breezy’s fan shop.

As the sun begins to set, the two of you suddenly realise how quickly the time has gone, having spent the whole day together without even realising it. Being a gentlecolt, you walk her home as the moon rises, and watch the weather team bring in a series of rain clouds on schedule.

Stood on her doorstep, she brings her nose to your cheek and gently kisses you, her breath flowing through your coat, bringing back emotions that you hadn’t properly felt in years.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?” you ask, voice quivering slightly as she pulls away.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll track me down if I don’t show,” she says with playful smile, “I’ll meet you outside the hospital. I’ll need to get the cloud-walking spell, but I have a friend who can give it me, and take me up there in her balloon.”

“Sure, I’ve got to go and clear some stuff up with the ‘bolts tomorrow, and that’s about it, so I can meet you at about five tomorrow evening?”

Redheart smiles again, a gentle blush appearing on her cheeks, a hoof awkwardly bringing a loose strand of her mane out of her eyes,

“I’ll be there. Goodnight, Thunder.” she says, kissing your cheek again.

“Goodnight, Redheart.”

Chapter Four

The next day, you step into the changing rooms of the Cloudsdale City Stadium, grinning as you decide to use a fake limp. Realising the locker room was completely abandoned for the moment, you give up on the fake limp and instead take a glance at the roster on the wall, wondering which of the dozen or so members were due to be in today. You notice that the display teams had been changed dramatically this rotation, and see your own name crossed out. Sighing, you raise a hoof to rub out the black marker pen.

“And what do you think you’re doing?” somepony says, behind you. You turn to see Spitfire, a towel wrapped around her neck, wet hair around her face. She smiles, glancing back towards the still running showers before hugging you briefly.

“Hey. I’m better. Got a full, clean bill of health. I’m good to fly.” you reply, stretching your wings out, displaying them for her. Spitfire looks at them critically, and then dives on you, tackling you to the ground, laughing.

“I thought we’d lost you, old man.”

“Hey, come on, Kid, I’m like a bad bit, I always turn up.” you reply, pushing the golden pegasus off of you and climbing back to your hooves.

“The nurses at the hospital wouldn’t let us anywhere near you, did you see their boss? I’ve met dragons nicer than her!”

“Yeah...” you trail of a little, “Is Doc around? Or has he finally let you and Soarin’ take over? I kinda need to talk to him.”

“He’s doing the new guy’s physical, I’m sure he’ll be done so-”

“New guy? You’re replacing me already?”

“Relax, Thunder. You remember the guy from the royal guard that we trialed a couple of years ago? The one who declined the invite because it’d take him away from Princess Luna?”

“Plate... something?”

“Plate Mail, that’s the guy. Anyway, he took some sort of dishonorable discharge over a training exercise about two to three months back, and he’s had nothing since, apart from some crappy jobs working protection at concerts.”

“...and you think he’s cute.”

Spitfire blushes, her usually yellow cheeks now holding a deep red.

“What happened? Given up on turning the masseur? After all this time, and all those bits you spent?”

“You... you didn’t tell anypony, did you?”

“No, your secret is safe with me, kid.”

“I still want him, but, well, he has other clients. How do I know he doesn’t do the same thing for them?”

You sigh, and put your hooves on her shoulders,

“Does he call out a name when he gets there?”

“...yeah, mine.” she replies, meekly and completely out of her normal confident character.

“That’s all the answer you need, sweetheart. Just ask him if he wants to go for a drink sometime, I’m sure it’ll work out.”

Your response makes the mare perk up slightly, and you bump your friend playfully on the shoulder, causing her to smile.

“Did I tell you that I’ve met someone?”

Spitfire gasps, covering her mouth,

“No way! Is she a fan? Wait, no, you’d never lower yourself to dating one of our fans... would you?”

“Ha, no, I finally managed to find a mare who likes me for me, rather than the celebrity status, and I’m going to see her tonight.”

“So, how many times did you have to ask this one?” Soarin asks, “Caramel said that he’s seen you around Ponyville over the last week, watching that Rainbow Dash. Did you have to tell her who you are?”

“Rainbow... wait, HER?! The one who has been at every single one of our shows?” Spitfire laughs, “I thought you said this mare wasn’t a fan? Also, aren’t you old enough to be her grandad?”

You curse under your breath, having forgotten that Soarin’s coltfriend was from the same town as Redheart, and remembering that he’d seen you out of your uniform at the last summer-sun celebration in Canterlot - so of course the stallion would have recognised you.

“No, no, her name’s Redheart, she’s a nurse. She looked after me when I was recovering,” you reply, waving off the idea of you being interested in the lithe younger pegasus.

“Oh, so what about Dash?” Spitfire asks, teasing you.

“She’s a damn good flier, I was wondering why we never tried her out.”

“I don’t think she ever actually applied, I’m not sure why. This is the same Rainbow Dash that pulled off the ‘boom at that young fliers’ thing, right?” Doc responds, having appeared through the same door you had used.

“That’s her alright,” Soarin replies, scrubbing at his damp mane with a towel produced from his locker, “Aanyway, I want to know when we’re going to meet this nurse of yours?”

“I don’t know, we’ve got our first proper date tonight, but I want to take things slow. Doc, can I have a word?”

“Certainly, come to my office,” the old, white haired stallion says, beckoning you to follow him.

Doc’s ‘office’ was actually the highest point of a strato-cumulus cloud that also served as his home. It wasn’t as homely as most parts of the cloud city, but Doc had always been the outdoors type, and it was reflected in his lifestyle. He was one of the few pegasi with a talent in medicine, which had earned him his title, but his true passion was flying. He had explained to you countless times how your own wings work, and the innate magic of pegasi that gives them their ability to walk on and manipulate cloud.

The two of you had met almost thirty years ago now, in the very same locker room you had just been in, with the group at the time led by Fire Fly, a mare of renowned skill in the air. Spitfire’s father, Vickers, had also been there - a jolly stallion known back in the day for his flight cap and goggles... as well as his delicately maintained curled mustache that he had grown during his time in Her Majesty’s Royal Air Force.

As the two of you touch down on the cloud, Doc buries his head in the fluffy ground for a moment, before pulling out a bottle of whiskey and a pair of cigars. You trot six paces to the north, and then dig out an old-fashioned desk top lighter, causing the stallion behind you to laugh. As the two of you light the cigars, Doc sighs.

“So, we’re having that talk today? The one I never thought we’d have to have?”

“Yep. I’m too old for this, Doc. Flying’s a young horse’s game and we both know that. Just look at some of the rookies we’ve got - hell, Spitfire’s a better flier than her father ever was, even Washburne is mastering the harder techniques.”

“What do you mean?”

“I saw her pull a crazy Ivan, Doc. Never seen that done by somepony without a dragon trying to chew on their plot - she was like a leaf, on the wind. Y’know, we haven’t had a member ‘boom since... well, since we lost Maverick, and then some kid from the middle of nowhere does it. I feel out of-”

“Out of date? How many of those kids have out-flown a dragon, with a whole mess of gryphons all of the place, and survived?”

You look at your hooves, still thoughtfully chewing the cigar, occasionally blowing the smoke out through your nose. Over the years, of course the Wonderbolts had lost ponies, good, honest ponies.

“I don’t want to be the next accident. I got really close to the edge there, it was surreal, Doc. I want out. I want to settle down, heck, maybe this thing with Redheart will work out...”

“Whoa, whoa, Thunder, it’s ONE date. She could end up being a total wing-clipper. Just fly with the team one last time, I’ll see who I can convince to come along, get the old family back together. Did Spitfire tell you that Vickers has had an improvement?”

“What happened?”

“Some Doctor, down in that ‘middle of nowhere’ town you mentioned, put him on the strongest four-leaf clover he could find. Vick’s got his mind back, he’s eating again, and I’m sure the old boy would love to see his ex wing-pony fly one last time.”

“One last time. Then I’m settling down.”

You shake hooves with Doc, before he grasps you in an almost brotherly hug, causing you to realise that he, like your other team mates, had been just as worried about your fall. Finishing your drink and cigar, the two of you glide back down to the stadium. You walk past Spitfire whilst she is talking to Surprise, one of the younger members, and she sniffs at the air before sighing and giving you a meaningful look.

“Hey, I’m following the rules. I’m allowed one for every time I cheat death.” you reply, knowing what she was upset about, “Anyway, Doc and I have cleared everything up. I’m going to do one last show with you guys, then retire, before I do any permanent damage.”

“Then we’d better make sure it’s one hell of a show.” Spitfire says, grinning widely,

“Ooh, and a party?” Surprise tags on the end, bouncing slightly at the idea. Spitfire nods, triggering a squee of excitement from the bouncing white pegasus, who dashes off to begin organising a party of epic proportions, the likes of which very few have ever seen.

Looking at the clock whilst sat in the locker room once more, you see that it’s now just coming up to half past four, and so you say your goodbyes, promising to drop by again soon to discuss your final show further.

Chapter Five

Having had time to fly home and put on a decent looking suit, you land silently behind Redheart whilst she was stood watching the horizon. Her mane is down again, but this time straightened rather than simply let out of it’s bun, and she is wearing a red dress, the kind reserved for special occasions. The mare doesn’t flinch when you reach a wing around her as you stand by her side, her eyes still watching the vast array of colour coming from the setting sun, the clouds beneath your hooves illuminated, your shadows cast long.

“You look like you’ve never seen a sunset up here before...” you ask, leaning in and kissing her cheek softly.

“I’ve never seen something so beautiful, it’s normally dark already when I finish working, it’s the most amazing and beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Oh, I don’t know, I’ve seen somepony more beautiful.”

“Thunder, you’re so... so... cheesy.” Redheart replies, before laughing lightly and nuzzling you.

“I’m sorry, if I’m honest, I’ve not done the whole dating thing in a very long time.”

“Well, if you were being sincere, then I think I can handle a little cheese,” the mare says, before tilting her head up, gently bringing her lips to yours. Her taste is delicious, a faint blend of strawberries and cream.

“I’m not that easy, but you can think of that as encouragement...” she whispers after pulling out of the kiss, before turning back to watch the sunset with you at her side, still under your wing, “Is it always this beautiful up here at sunset?”

“Yeah, one day, I’ll take you to a place that’s a little fly away from here. It’s a really old piece of cloud called Celestia’s Throne-”

“Old cloud?” she says, turning to you again, looking skeptical.

“Well, sort of. It’s more about the position of it than the actual cloud. It’s dispersed and been remade so many times, but it almost always ends up in the same shape. At exactly the right time of day, you can see all the way to the border.”

“It sounds amazing! Why haven’t I ever heard of it?”

“Well, when you were at high school, did you have a make-out point?” you ask. Redheart blushes, before nodding slowly, “Celestia’s throne was just that, when I was a kid. A lot of pegasi, including me, had their first kiss there.”

“Very romantic, I’d love to go there, if things between us go further.”

“Speaking of going further, maybe we should be making a move towards the restaurant, I wouldn’t want to get you there and find that it’s closed...” you say, bringing your wing back to your side, folding it neatly.

Taking one last look at the sunset, Redheart begins to walk with you, bobbing gently as she walks over the fluffy clouds.

The Boiling Point - Cloudsdale’s best known five-star restaurant. For most ponies, it would take months to get a reservation at the establishment... but you’re not exactly like most ponies.

Stood on the thick red carpet, in the queue with Redheart, you find yourself behind a young family. They’re obviously treating themselves to an expensive dinner for the occasion of the youngest of their group, a young purple unicorn filly wearing what looks like her father’s flat cap, having discovered her cutie mark. As the family finally get to the front of the queue, you hear a frantic hushed argument between the maitre’d and the father of the family in front.

From what you could gather, there had been some sort of mix up and their table had already given away. The father, a cream coloured unicorn stallion bearing a barrel as his cutie mark, sighs and turns away, beckoning the youngster and her mother to follow.

Straightening his mane and bow-tie, the maitre’d immediately brightens up as he sees you.

“Ah, good evening Sir, I presume you will be wanting your usual table? Shall I call your brother also?”

“...Not tonight, Alfonse. What was that I just saw?”

The pegasus shuffles his wings awkwardly, glancing beyond you towards the family leaving the restaurant.

“Undesirables, Sir. Non-pegasi make this place look a mes-”

“Alfonse, I think you should meet my date for the night, she’s not a pegasus. You gonna throw me out, too?” you interrupt, growling slightly, “Why don’t you go ahead and fetch Ramses. I think he needs to know about this.”

“He does not. Even if I were to let the riff-raff in, we are full to capacity.”

“Then that family can have my table. I know that you keep it open every Friday night for me and the ‘bolts. Redheart, could you be a dear and go fetch them for me?” you reply again, eyes locked with the light blue pegasus stood at his podium.

“What the raspberry-scented FUCK is going on here?” calls an angry voice behind Alfonse, revealing itself to belong to the head chef and owner of the establishment - your brother, Ramses, “Thunder! You alright, matey?”

You glare at Alfonse, who shrinks at the combined presence of you and his boss.

“Somepony here just turned away a family for being the wrong race.”

“That’s simply not true! We are full, and can’t possibly take mo-”

“Shut the fuck up, Alfonse.” Ramses growls, shaking the tall hat from his head as he pulls the maitre’d from behind the podium, “I’ve seen the empty tables! Get your stuff, and get the fuck out of my restaurant. You’ve been warned about this before, and I’m not havin’ it.”

As Alfonse leaves, Redheart returns with the rejected family in tow, chatting to the mother.

“Berry, I didn’t even recognise you! Ruby’s grown ever so much, and I see she found her cutie mark? How is Paddock coping as her step-father? I got your note about Hearth's Warming eve, I might be able to make it, I'll have to check my schedule...”

“I’m so sorry, Nurse Redheart, we didn’t mean to be causing trouble.”

“It’s no trouble at all, love.” Ramses says, rudely stopping the conversation, “For the inconvenience, you and your family will be dining for free tonight...”

“At the very table used every Friday by none-other than the Wonderbolt display team!” you add at the end, causing the little foal’s eyes to widen in awe. “If I’m going to use it, it’s going to be to do the right thing” you think, justifying the use of your celebrity status to yourself.

“Y...yes,” Ramses replies, running a hoof through his short-cropped blonde mane in slight frustration, “and I think I’ll have my new sous-chef, Miguel, take personal care of you. I’m sorry not to be doing it myself, but I think I need to talk to my brother here before his fame drives him bloody mental.”

The small crowd that had gathered laugh, and another waiter appears to take the podium. After shaking hooves with the father, and having a photo taken with Ruby, you and Redheart are whisked away by Ramses to the mezzanine floor overlooking the main hall of the restaurant. The decorations inside are lavish, deep reds and golds being the main colour scheme, the tables and chairs made of solid oak, held in place by magic.

Chapter Six

“Ramses, this is Redheart.” You say with a little pride, introducing your brother to your date.

“Pleasure to meet you, me ol’ china.” Ramses replied, taking one of Redheart’s hooves and kissing it. Whilst he is bent over, Redheart shoots you a glance - clearly not too impressed.

“Yeeeah, Ram, we’re hoping for a quiet night. Can you put us somewhere where we won’t be disturbed?”

“Weeell,” the chef starts after rising, mimicking you and placing a hoof on his chin, “We have just started preparing the roof of this place ready to add more dining space, and it’s a warm enough night... would you like to be the first to dine there? It’s perfectly secluded.” he finished, giving you a nudge in the ribs and causing another glance from the slightly flushed nurse next to you.

“Yeah, that’ll do fine.” you reply, trying your best to hide your excitement of being alone with Redheart.

Out on the roof, the sunset has finally succumbed to a dark, clear night - the type with wonderfully crisp air and subtle updrafts and your favourite to fly in. The few clouds in sight are very high up, and you can tell that the weather teams won’t need to do much more to ensure a beautiful sunny day tomorrow.

Ramses vanishes, leaving you on the rooftop with Redheart for a few minutes, before a unicorn member of staff arrives, bringing a table awkwardly up through the recently-painted set of double doors leading to the roof. Bobbling along behind him, you see a pair of chairs, which are placed facing each other at the table, and a pegasus holding a wicker basket lands softly on the roof-top with the gentle clink of cutlery against porcelain.

From the basket he removes a table cloth, and then a small stub of a candle kept in a clear jar. As the waiter lays the items on the table, you realise that whilst the pale white moonlight more than adequately illuminates the scene, the candle lit by the unicorn waiter adds to the ambiance and romance of the night, the air cool to the touch, but not cold enough to be uncomfortable. The final things to be pulled out of the basket are a pair of menus, some glasses, and a jug, which is then filled by water squeezed from a cloud nearby.

The waiter helps Redheart to take her seat first, and then does the same for you, the red cushion of the chair warm under your backside. He then moves to pass you a menu, which you turn down, and wait politely for Redheart to make her choice.

“So, I noticed that you and Ramses sound different, why is that?” she asks, her eyes darting between your own and the menu held in front of her. Pouring yourself some water, you think about your answer for a little while, reminiscing over old memories.

“He’s originally from Coltstone, in Shetland. We were both adopted.”

“Oh, oh gosh, I’m sorry - I...”

“It’s alright, you’re not the first to ask, and probably not the last.” you reply, smiling over the table at her whilst she blushes, “to me, he’s as good as a blood relative.”

“So, did the two of you grow up in Cloudsdale?”

“Yep. When I was taken from my folks, I met him at the home. Our foster-parents were Mr and Mrs Shake.”

“As in Five-Dollar and Strawberry Shake?”

“You’ve heard of them?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“I worked at the home briefly, during my training - I don’t think I’ve seen them for almost ten years now! Are you still in contact?”

“Well, mom passed about two years ago, but dad’s still holding up alright - he’s not able to keep fostering anymore though. Ten years... they’d have been living in Canterlot at that point, was that where you trained?”

“Yes...” Redheart replies,

“So you were there when...”

“Yes. The invasion.” she says, stopping abruptly and breaking eye contact with you for what feels like the first time of the night, “I was drafted into the medical core. I hadn’t even finished my first placement.”

“I lost a lot of good friends that night. Too many, to be frank.”

You look down at the table cloth, and then back up when you feel Redheart place her hoof on yours.

“Do you want to change the subject?” she asks, the concern visible on her kind face.

“Please.” you reply, turning your head slightly, so that Redheart can’t see the single tear drip from your eye. “Have you chosen what you’d like to eat yet?” you ask, noticing the menu in front of her closed. She nods, and you wave the waiter over, who had been stood at the edge of the rooftop, admiring the skyline of the city at night.

Redheart gives her order first, choosing pasta stuffed with diced tomatoes and basil in a balsamic glaze. You request the meal that you normally have prepared for you - a simple spiced asparagus dish, one that Ramses had first invented when the pair of you had been living together in Cloudsdale. Times had been difficult then, having moved out on your own for the first time, before you had even joined the Royal Air Force on your way to becoming a Wonderbolt. You also order a bottle of Marelot, to subtly compliment the flavours of the tomatoes in Redheart’s food - another thing that your brother had taught you.

The unicorn vanishes downstairs, leaving you and Redheart alone on the rooftop, the candlelight flickering in a gentle breeze. Staring across at the mare, you can tell that she’s thinking about something difficult.

“What’s on your mind?” you ask,

“Well,” she begins, “Would it bother you if I was say, only thirty years old?”

“If I’m honest, I did wonder how old you are... would it bother you that I’m fifty, if you were thirty?”

“You’re dodging the question, Thunder.” Redheart replies, with a gentle laugh.

“No, it wouldn’t bother me at all, Redheart.” you reply, grinning, “Would it bother you that you were on a date with a stallion twenty years your senior?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I’ve heard that older stallions tend to be more mature, and don’t do silly things like throwing themselves off of high-up clouds or trying to fly into low orbit.”

“Wow, these older stallions you heard about sound kind of dull.” you reply, with your own small laugh.

“Hmm, you’re probably right.” she replies, hoof still on yours, her eyes not moving at all, almost daring you to look away. You see something move in the corner of your eye, and a moment later an empty ice bucket is placed on a curled iron stand, an open bottle of wine resting within, airing. The waiter looks at the two of you, both unmoving, as if taking part in a staring contest, and with a sigh he sniffs the cork himself before trotting off once more. Redheart’s other hoof idly rises and pushes her loose pink mane back over her shoulder, except for one small strand that she simply prods. “You know, this is probably the most romantic thing anypony’s ever done for me.”

“I don’t like to do things in half measures.”

“You promised me a night I wouldn’t forget, and I get the feeling you’ll be true to your word.” Redheart says, her eyes darting to a set of small pots floating towards your table, followed by another pot of six-inch-long breadsticks. Realising what Ramses had done, you start to blush in a way that you hadn’t for at least twenty years.

“Thunder? You’ve turned bright red, what’s wrong?” Redheart asks, looking puzzled.

“I knew he’d do something like this...” you reply, “They’re something Ramses likes to call ‘Kiss Sticks’, the idea is that we feed each other until, well, we kiss.”

“Hmm, well, I don’t see why we couldn’t at least try one or two? What are the different dips?” Redheart says, with a light laugh to cover her own slightly reddening cheeks.

Recovering from the surprise, you take an experimental sniff of the first dip, discovering the scent of tomatoes and herbs - obviously salsa. The other two yield mint yogurt, and a cheese and chive mixture. The waiter vanishes, and you pick up the first stick between your lips, the dry texture almost irritating on your tongue, but bearable.

“You know, this reminds me of an old movie - ‘The Lady and The Mule’,” Redheart starts, watching you carefully place your forehooves on the table as you maneuver your head to dip the end of the stick in the sweet tomato salsa, “Have you ever seen it?”

Unable to talk, you simply nod, causing a dollop of salsa to drop from the breadstick onto the pristine white tablecloth. The movie in question was one of the classics - a tale of forbidden love between a noblemare of Canterlot and her blue-collar working mule, and the scene that Redheart was talking about was considered one of the most romantic ever committed to celluloid. You fuzzily remember the pair of them meeting in secret, behind a restaurant, dining under the stars and sharing a plate of spaghetti - he had let her have the last tomato, gazing into her eyes with delight as she ate it. The scene ended with them eating the same strand of pasta, and of course, meeting in the middle with a gentle kiss - something most young stallions tried with their first date when you had been young, but probably not something done often anymore.

With the memory of the film in your head, your eyes remain fixed on hers as she opens her mouth, accepting the bread stick and leaning in close enough for your lips to meet. The tang of fresh tomato on her tongue causes Redheart to give a brief and obviously unexpected moan of pleasure, her sense of taste overcome by the fresh and gently spiced dip combined with the texture of the crisp bread stick. Pulling back, you can see a smile on the mare’s face, her eyes having fluttered closed as she savours the flavour.

“Mmm,” she purrs, her eyes opening again, “That’s so... fresh, it’s amazing!”

“Yeah, all of Ram’s stuff is fresh. Those bread sticks were probably baked this morning.” you reply, smiling and proud to be able to call the chef your brother.

“So,” Redheart says, her hoof on yours once more, whilst she stands and leans towards the pot of sticks, eyes at half-mast, “I guess it’s my turn to feed you?”

“I guess it is...”

“Which dip would you like, Thunder?”

Thinking for a moment, you decide to choose the mint yogurt. Nudging the pot towards Redheart with your hoof, you stand again and watch her dip the end of her stick in it, before opening your mouth just enough for the mare to feed you. The yogurt is cool and smooth on your tongue, with the mint adding a pleasant sweetness. Swallowing, you notice that Redheart doesn’t back away, lingering into the kiss, her lips soft against your own.