She's doing it again.

Twilight pointedly doesn't look up from her laptop screen.

She doesn't need to, really. She can all but feel Fluttershy working up the nerve to say something that she knows Twilight won’t want to hear.

However this necessarily means Twilight can also hear the little whines the poor girl makes in the back of her mouth as she glances up from her veterinary science textbook—and all its diagrams of people doing intensely personal things to livestock—to peek at Twilight's expression and see if now might be a good time to step on a landmine or two.

Its infrequency and irregularity make it impossible to ignore. Every time the subtle little squeak sounds, Twilight's train of thought jumps the rails.

If only it weren't so damned cute.

Then I'd feel a little less like a jerk for wanting to scream at her...it would be like kicking the universe's tiniest, most adorable puppy over and over again.

Twilight bites down on the pen in her mouth as she flips a few pages slightly more angrily than she really means to—

“Ah, dammit!”

Damned finger getting damned cut on a damned piece of damned paper—

She sucks on the tip of her index finger sharply as she inspects the book.

“And of course I tore the pages, too,” she mutters. “Wonderful.”

“Oh, um, I think I have a band-aid somewhere...” Fluttershy murmurs, reaching for her eternally heavily-laden backpack.

Twilight waves her away. “It's alright, really. Don't worry about it.”

“Um. Okay.”

“Sorry. Let's just get back to work.”

Immediately, Twilight realizes she made a minor error. In setting up an ultimatum like that, she'd given the other girl a little bit of an opening.

Fluttershy's face screws up with desperate courage and she blurts out a barely-audible string of words. “Wellumsinceyou'renotinthemiddleofanythingjustthissecondtherewassomethingIwantedtomention—”

Twilight forces herself to just stare, grimly, at the rapidly-reddening face in front of her.

How does she not just burst into flames or something? Even now, when she's driving me crazy, I just want to hug her and tell her everything's going to be all right.

But it wasn't going to be, of course.

Fluttershy begins to whine in the back of her throat again.

Twilight sighs, pressing her glasses back up onto her nose as she looks back down at the computer. “Out with it, then, before you...pop, or something.”

“Well, um...it's about...uh...my roommate.”

“Rainbow Dash.”

“Mmmhmm. Her, yeah,” Fluttershy says, apparently thrilled that Twilight isn't bursting into furious rage at the mere implication that Rainbow Dash was a thing that existed.

“What about her?”

When Fluttershy doesn't respond, Twilight looks up over the edge of her computer screen. To her mild surprise, Fluttershy's nervousness actually appears to be taking a backseat to something else; but to her mild horror, that thing appears to be sorrow.

Fluttershy grabs a bunch of her long pink hair in one hand and rubs it between two fingers nervously. “It's just that...um...”

“I heard she was out on the prowl again, if that's what you wanted to tell me. Took her all of five minutes,” Twilight mutters, looking back down at her screen, but a bitter thought finds its way out of her mouth afterwards, accompanied by a huff of disdain. “What am I saying...? She was prowling even when we were...whatever. Together. Ish. Meanwhile I, a normal human being, have spent the last few weeks doing something other than look for my next sweaty evening—”

More surprises, as Fluttershy actually frowns at Twilight for a moment.

“What?”

“Dash hasn't been the best person lately, especially to you, but that was more than a little unkind to say about anyone,” Fluttershy says, through the mildest expression of displeasure possible.

Twilight's eyebrows raise in horror. She hasn't known Fluttershy all that long, but she already knew the young woman well enough that she understood she'd just been slapped across the face and told to watch her mouth.

But thankfully, before she's forced to apologize, Fluttershy's sudden burst of confidence appears to frighten her and she blushes furiously, clapping a sweater-clad hand over her mouth.

Time to go on the counter-offensive, the veteran video game strategist in Twilight declares.

“Has she been with someone else, then?” Twilight says, not looking up from her ferocious typing as if only mildly interested.

“Well, she—”

“Yes or no.”

“Um. Well, I think so, but—”

Twilight looks up, pleased with herself as she sees Fluttershy wince a bit at the harshness of her glare. “Good for her.”

Fluttershy's face falls a little. It's like watching a small and precious piece of spun glassware crack in front of you.

“Thank you for letting me know,” Twilight says, with all the grim finality of a swordswoman driving one final thrust home. “I hate surprises.”

She returns to her work for awhile, the only real sensation registering in her mind the slight burning at the end of her finger as she types.

“Um...”

Like a spark in a room with a leaky gas main...

“What!?” Twilight snaps, glaring across the table.

Fluttershy opens her eyes and untenses her shoulders, as if recovering from a physical blow. “I have more to say to you. It's important.”

“I—”

“It's important.”

Twilight blinks. A serious, determined Fluttershy is a bit like having a little dog chewing on your ankle—you're surprised to find it has teeth at all, and it's more persistent than it has any right to be.

“Dash did something...silly,” Fluttershy says, deathly serious. “We don't know exactly what happened, but she isn’t really talking to any of us anymore, not even me. She's really messed up.”

“Over—”

Twilight bites down on that, hard, clenching her teeth together so hard that they hurt.

No, it wouldn't be over me. Don't be juvenile.

Fluttershy doesn't seem to realize what Twilight was about to say—or, if she did, is wise enough not to call attention to it. Instead she just looks nervous and keeps rubbing her hair in her fingers.

Anger smolders somewhere in the black void behind Twilight's eyes.

I never should have let her sit here with—

No, Twilight, no. You like Fluttershy. She's your friend, even if she is her roommate...it's not like anyone blames you for the things Pinkie does, right?

“I'm sorry to hear it, I guess,” Twilight says. “But it doesn't have anything to do with me, if that's what you're asking. I haven't talked to her since Halloween. At all.”

“No, I—I'd never, I didn't—” Fluttershy stammers, before settling herself. “No, that's not why I wanted to talk to you about it.”

“Why, then?”

As if I don't know...

“I...I wanted to ask if...if you'd...”

“Out with it.”

Fluttershy takes a huge breath. “I—we—that is, um, me, and Mac, and Applejack, all of us—we all talked about it, and we think it might help if...you tried to talk to her.”

Twilight freezes, knowing better than to trust her first, second, or third gut reactions.

Across from her, Fluttershy's face screws up as she braces for whatever Twilight says next.

But Twilight is pleased to find she can keep her tone of voice perfectly calm and firm.

“Do you know what your trouble is, Fluttershy?”

Fluttershy eases from her proto-flinch, her face falling into an expression of contemplation as she taps her chin thoughtfully.

“Well, I'm extremely shy, obviously, that's always been a bit of a problem. My self-confidence and self-esteem are pretty touch and go, too. And I really repress a lot of emotions I probably shouldn't, because I used to get yelled at if I didn't act like the perfect little girl when I was young...and, um, I have a tendency to lose control of myself if I can't handle things and when I get really angry I say hurtful things I don't mean, that's always caused problems for me. Oh, and I sometimes can't stop myself from throwing up when I set a bone. Even a little one, like a finger or something.”

Twilight stares at her, her ability to communicate reduced to blinking and making a vague ‘ah’ noise from her slack mouth.

“Oh, I almost forgot. I really, really, really, really have a weakness for romantic comedies. Like, I've gone through three copies of Love, Actually and four of Moulin Rouge. ” Fluttershy adds, nodding to herself in apparent satisfaction. “Was that what you had in mind?”

“Sssssort of,” Twilight says, feeling more than a little derailed.

“What did you mean, then?”

Twilight clears her throat. “I was going to say that your problem is that you're too romantic.”

“Oh, definitely,” Fluttershy agrees, nodding firmly. “Absolutely I am.”

“And I sympathize, you know? I sort of was, too. But we don't all have relationships with Macintosh, where you two can't go five minutes without being so lovey-dovey that it's probably a form of theta-band radiation...” Twilight goes on, with a nonchalance she found surprisingly easy. “I think you all had the wrong idea about Dash and I. I certainly did.”

“Um—”

“Fluttershy, we were just...you know, sleeping together,” Twilight says, with a dismissive wave. “The first time we talked to each other ended in sex. I mean, you must know better than me that Dash goes through women like a hot knife through butter—”

“Well, I know she says that, but—”

Ha!

Twilight is the bigger woman, though, and doesn't take a swipe at this. “Look, it was just a...thing. I took it more seriously than it deserved, and now it's over and done with. I've got a lot of other things going on in my life. I don't need this personal drama.”

Fluttershy just stares at her.

Something about her expression makes Twilight feel very uncomfortable, like she wants to writhe in place. It was...

Disappointed? Sad?

No, not...really. Something.

Wish she'd stop it though, huh?

“What?” Twilight asks, desperately.

Fluttershy shakes her head slowly. “You were good for her, Twilight. You know, I've known her a long time, and she's never been more, um...stable. And she stayed with you for a lot longer than anyone else, ever. It wasn't perfect, but...you were good for her.”

“I thought so, too. For what it's worth.”

“And, um, I got the impression it was good for you too—”

Twilight lets the little flare of anger ground itself in a fist slammed hard against the table. Fluttershy squirms in place for a second, before settling again.

“Can't say I don't miss the things she could do with her fingers,” Twilight says, cold as ice.

Fluttershy manages to maintain her serious expression despite turning beet-red. “I thought it was more than that.”

“So did I!”

Twilight is suddenly aware that she is the subject of a lot of stunned attention from the library at large, including some unusually pointed looks from the librarians on duty.

She gives the room in general a slightly guilty but mostly sullen look before turning back to a solemn Fluttershy. “Look...I'm sorry for losing my temper, okay? Can we just get back to studying?”

“Actually, I, um...I think I'm done,” Fluttershy says, beginning to gather her things with polite haste. “But...um. Just think about what I said. Please.”

Twilight watches her get ready to go, trying hard not to glower. She is apparently unsuccessful, because Fluttershy's bashful, stressed little wave goodbye withers and dies. Fluttershy finishes packing her bags and wrapping up in a few more layers of sweaters and scarves than the brisk weather perhaps called for in silence, and with one last sad little look over her shoulder, scurries off towards the exit.

With a huff, Twilight gets back to work.

Most people have a hard time working when they're angry, but Twilight isn't most people.

Two hours later, Twilight quietly snaps her laptop shut and slips it into her bag, and finds herself in possession of something rare to the point of almost being a novelty: a whole weekend with nothing to do.

She'd planned to spread her work out to fill the time as best it could, but, well...

As she steps out into the cloudy gloom of the late autumn evening, clutching her coat up around herself against a bitter wind, she can't stop herself from thinking that not three weeks ago that would have been something to spend investigating a lot of new and exciting ways two free days could be spent.

She sighs.

The truth is she's been at a loss to fill her time. Nothing seems fun anymore.

And not because oh my god, Dash isn't here, waahh. It was just...

She used to like being by herself. Nowadays, whenever she tried to lay back and enjoy a little peace and quiet, she got a nagging feeling in the back of her head that it wasn't what she was supposed to be doing. For example, now that she'd watched a movie hanging out with D—with someone else, it was like...yeah, that's how you do it properly, didn't you get the memo?

At least she could be comforted in knowing that Pinkie Pie would only be around occasionally. She was a lovely person and a lot of fun...in small doses.

Still that left a lot of time to herself.

Thank heavens for three dollar bottles of wine and lazy grocery store clerks—

“Ooof!”

Twilight is shocked out of her furious reverie—complete with visions of a half-empty bottle of something red made from mostly grapes standing forgotten as the joy of Team Fortress 2 really took over—as something she didn't see runs headlong into her gut.

She stumbles a bit, trying not to step on the shape in front of her. “Hey, watch where you're—oh!”

On the ground, a little boy runs a hand through bright green hair. “Owww...”

Twilight crouches down. “Hey, sorry. Really, I mean it. I wasn't watching where I was going. Are you okay?”

“Hmm? Oh, I'm...I'm totally fine,” the boy says, through a sniffle. He firms up his expression into an absurdly exaggerated expression of manly fortitude. “Never better.”

“Uh...right.”

Twilight offers him a hand, and the boy eagerly grabs it and pulls himself up with socket-wrenching force.

The boy grins. “So, hey, uh, you're Twilight Sparkle, right?”

“Y-yeah,” Twilight says. “How'd you know?”

“You've got to come with me.”

“I do?”

“Yeah.”

Twilight tries to smile indulgently, but children have never really...agreed with her. Especially loud, excitable children like this one.

“Can I ask why?” she manages.

The boy sniffs again, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his coat. “My mom said you have to. Like, all of a sudden, it's weird.”

“Your mom?”

Twilight looks up as the boy points.

Leaning against her car, Professor Celestia gives Twilight a little wave and a thin smile.

“You know, at home I have an iguana named Spike,” Twilight says, giving the boy a tentative grin.

Spike begins to reply, but his mother—not even looking up from her own pasta—clicks her tongue. “Not with your mouth full, Spike.”

The boy gleefully slurps in a huge mouthful of pasta, covering his lips in red sauce, before turning a suspicious look on Twilight. “Whoa. Creepy.”

Twilight tries to think of what to say. She'd meant for him to be pleased or impressed, but now he's just scooching his chair away from her with what he probably thought was immense subtlety, looking at her as if she'd just asked if he wanted her to sneeze on his food.

She gives Celestia a helpless look, but the older woman just smiles slightly and winks.

How did I get into this situation...?

Fair enough, this is way better than the noodle cup she was going to make in her room, and certainly better than getting caught in the rainstorm that had sprung up almost the very second they’d pulled away from the library, but...

If someone had told her, that first day of her freshman term, that in a little more than a year she'd be eating dinner with Professor Celestia at her own apartment, Twilight would have laughed. Professors don't do that sort of thing!

More to the point, Twilight wouldn't do that sort of thing. Certainly not with a professor of sociology.

After all, they call it social science, but it wasn't really science, right? There weren't any test tubes or electron microscopes or even any caustic chemicals, unless the immense amount of coffee everyone in that department seemed to drink counted. But the university required you to take some general education credits to graduate, so Twilight had glumly consented to taking a basic broadfield sociology topics course and planned to leave it at that.

And then, she'd heard that calm, confident voice speak with such quiet passion...

“Sociology is the study of people, in the end. So get out there and study!”

Twilight vaguely registers that she could probably swallow this last bite of pasta at this point, and does so.

Guiltily, she sneaks a peek at Professor Celestia. She doesn't want to say anything, but...

It was terrible.

Better than cup ramen, but so's cardboard.

Seriously, how do you mess up pasta?

“What do you think of dinner, Spike?” Celestia asks, mildly, as if she can read Twilight's mind.

The boy perks up, smiling hugely. “Gross, as usual.”

To her shock, Twilight actually feels an impulse to defend the professor, even as the elder woman chuckles and apologizes to her son in a way that suggests he always says her food is terrible—or that it indeed always is.

There was a time when she wouldn't have minded being a bit rude to the professor. Their first meeting had been a long chat starting with Twilight objecting to the methodology of social science research on principle, and she hadn't exactly kept the extent or depth of her feelings quiet.

It must be a conversation the professor has a lot, because at first she just had smiled vaguely and gave out some canned answers which probably would have satisfied your average undergrad looking to prove their chops by putting one over on Professor Celestia.

...and then Twilight had begun talking about probabilistic mathematics with a theoretical expertise that by Celestia's own admission would have severely embarrassed some of the department's graduate students—which is to say, Twilight remembered her high school statistics class.

But that's enough to be impressive.

An hour or so later they were agreeing to meet again the following Friday to continue their conversation, especially in the context of the assigned classwork...

Habits need to start somehow, especially since this one had outlasted the first and last social science class Twilight ever intended to take, no matter how much she liked its teacher.

And now I'm here, in her apartment, watching her try to keep her son in line at the dinner table. I didn't even know she had a son.

Now that she thinks about it, though, she'd seen the boy before. Twilight knew him as a sort of semi-presence sometimes sitting in the back of the lecture theater, completely insensate to anything except the wide world of the latest Pokemon game. It was a testament to his absorption that it had never occurred to Twilight to wonder who he was or why he was there.

Only after this does it occur to Twilight to wonder why she'd never seen any pictures of Spike in Celestia's meticulously organized office, and she pauses, watching the professor tease her son about something—

The doorbell rings, and Celestia's face momentarily breaks into a frown.

It's been a serendipitous sort of evening.

The professor's momentary irritation vanishes as if it was never there, and she gives Spike a knowing smile. “Looks like he snuck up on us again.”

Spike laughs hugely, leaping out of his chair. “Haha, yeah!”

“Wipe your face first!” Celestia shouts, but Spike is already thundering down the cramped hallway to the door. Twilight hears him shout with glee as the sound of the driving rain outside suddenly grows louder. An older male voice returns the loud greeting with tremendous enthusiasm.

Twilight tries to give the professor her best, bright smile as she takes a wild stab in the dark. “Oh! That must be your—”

“Ex-husband,” Celestia interrupts, her face as calm and composed as ever. “Excuse me for a moment, won't you? I have to give my son back to his father.”

Twilight blinks at her gentle smile. “E-ex...!”

“Yes, ex. Ah, if you're in the mood, I'd appreciate it if you'd make us—that is, you and I—some coffee,” Celestia adds, nodding to a little pot on the small kitchen range. “There's some grounds in the freezer. I'll just be a minute...”

Slowly, Twilight rises from her chair and sets about making coffee. She owns a pot very much like this one herself, a little two-stage Italian espresso maker suitable for—

For one person and maybe a guest, now and again.

She frowns, anxiously. The clues are all around her, really.

Now that Twilight is thinking about it, the kitchen is small and cramped, which should have been her first clue that a family didn't live here. And décor was at an absolute premium in this place; bare walls were the rule of the day.

This is a place where someone put their stuff, not a home...

She tries not to, but she can't help listening to the distant sound of the professor's conversation with her ex-husband. She can't make it all out clearly, but it sounded to Twilight like they were arranging the next time Spike would be staying with Celestia...in a month or so.

Twilight's pleasure at being invited here is fading, fast. This is not a happy place.

And I thought I knew her. I didn't even know she had a son! Much less one who she has to arrange to see on a monthly basis...!

The little pot starts burbling next to her, and she scrambles as she realizes she hadn't set out cups—

Celestia's voice rings clear from the hallway, lit with amusement. “Top-left cabinet, above the sink, Twilight.”

“Thanks!”

Oh, man, oh, man...

She hurriedly selects two mugs—terrible, ancient things both, decorated with kitschy slogans and deeply stained on the inside—and tries to focus on the coffee instead of eavesdropping on her favorite professor's personal affairs.

She's pouring out the very last of the coffee when Celestia returns, sighing gently.

“Here,” Twilight says, carefully offering the mug reading “Canterlot University, Class of __________”.

The professor takes it with an expression of extreme gratitude and gestures for Twilight to follow her to a beaten-up old futon in what Twilight supposed the apartment rental company called the “living area”. There’s room for a few overstuffed bookshelves, the futon, a coffee table laden with coursework waiting on corrections, a television that appeared to not get much use, and not much else.

“I'm very sorry about that, Twilight. Inviting you here was such a spur-of-the-moment decision that I totally failed to put two and two together. I hope it wasn't too embarrassing.”

Twilight gives Professor Celestia a weak grin and takes a sip of coffee to cover a rising blush. “Oh, no, I...I hope I didn't make things awkward for you, or whatever.”

“Not at all,” Celestia says, setting her coffee on the table between two stacks of essays. “By the way, I'm sorry about the food. I've always been a terrible chef—never got the hang of it. Spike's father is an excellent cook, so I never had to learn. I was spoiled, I suppose.”

Twilight takes another long sip, scrambling for something to say.

Celestia just smiles at her.

Agh, I hate it when she does this!

“I...I...um...I had no idea you were married,” Twilight stammers. “And, er, then...not married, afterwards...”

“Well don't take this the wrong way, but...good!” The professor takes a sip of coffee, as she gives Twilight a smile. “It's not something I like to advertise. It gives people the wrong impression.”

“It does?”

Celestia winks. “Sort of like the one I suspect you may be holding yourself, yes. But it was an amicable split, Twilight. It wanted to happen, and it was best that it happened when it did, with a minimum of nastiness.”

“I-I see.” A thought occurs to Twilight, and she adds, “um, how did you know? That it needed to end, I mean.”

A cunning light blooms in Celestia's eye, making Twilight clutch her mug tighter. “Is there some reason you ask?”

Ah! Won't catch me that easily...the last thing I want to do now is whine about Dash. She'd think I'm a complete child, compared to what she's been through.

She looks away, only sort of having to feign shamed embarrassment. “I'm sorry, that was nosy.”

Whether this was completely successful as a dodge is unclear. For a moment, the only sound is the hammering of the rain outside as Celestia pauses to give this some thought.

“Perhaps. But more or less innocent, and thus forgivable,” she says, with a thin smile. “That said, I didn't ask you here to complain about my life, Twilight, I—”

wanted to talk about you and your stupid childish problems that you are a complete moron for not being able to get over and just deal with and move on like a grown up and not a little girl who thought that having sex three or four times a week for a few months is the same as love

“Indulge me,” Twilight interrupts, and cringes at the bite in her tone. “If...if you don’t mind.”

Celestia half-shrugs. “Well, it's a bit of a long story, you know. I have an eight year old son, after all. I’d hate to bore you.”

Twilight gestures to a window. Outside, the bitter-cold rain continues to pound down. “I think I have some time.”

The professor just huffs a little laugh at this presumption and takes another sip of her coffee.

“It's-it's just a bit of a surprise, is all. I had no idea—” Twilight says, and immediately regrets it. She winces and waves a hand. “Never mind. I don't know what's gotten into me; I'm being so rude.”

“No, you're investigating. Trying to figure things out.” Celestia smiles broadly, as if immensely pleased to have her personal life pried into. “I'd expect nothing less from you. I don't mind your curiosity—in all fairness, I probably owe you an explanation after tossing you into all this with no warning.”

Twilight curls her legs in front of herself to show she's settling in, finding it hard to look the professor straight in the face.

Celestia doesn't speak for some time, apparently reviewing things in her head. When she does speak, it's in a conversational tone of voice, as if describing something that she'd heard about once but wasn't really interested in.

“I'm not entirely sure where to start,” she admits. “Except to say...well, in retrospect, we probably shouldn't have gotten married at all. We met in college, we were friends for several years, finally got together...and when I went to graduate school, he came with me. And eventually we got married, more or less because we were used to each other at that point.”

Twilight squirms uncomfortably. She doesn't want to ask, but...

“So...you didn't love each other.”

Stupid, stupid, stupid...

The professor gives her a blank look for a moment, sipping the coffee again. “That's a hard thing to nail down precisely, Twilight. But I think it would probably be true to say something like: he was in love with me, but I...”

She trails off.

Twilight shrinks in place, and tries to formulate a suitably eloquent apology for even dreaming of asking about this.

Before she can come up with something good enough, though, Celestia perks up a bit. “You need to understand, Twilight, he and I are still very good friends. He's not a bad person—on the contrary, he's a very charming man. Funny, spontaneous—at worst, he's a bit full of himself and can be a little mean from time to time. He's a good husband and a good father, and I still care for him. As a friend. But our relationship was not really meant to be...romantic, I think. We're much happier now than we ever were when we were married.”

“I see,” Twilight murmurs, taking a swig of coffee to hide her grimace of discomfort.

“And of course, he and Luna are very happy together—”

Twilight nearly spits out her coffee, but manages to gulp it down before she spreads it across the room. The unfortunate downside of this is that she has to cough and hack for awhile before she can speak, as the professor chuckles at taking her by surprise like that.

“Luna? As in Professor Luna? He married your sister!?” she all but shrieks.

Celestia isn't quite done laughing at Twilight, but she manages to speak. “Yes, he did. Well, he had an affair with her while we were still married, first, but—”

“Oh my god,” Twilight hisses.

“That was a bit of a...er, nightmare, as you can imagine,” Celestia admits, a little grudgingly. “Luna and I didn't see each other for a long time after that. But the truth is that the two of them really connect in a way he and I never did. They were in love from the second they met; I was always just in the way.”

Twilight doesn't really know what to say, so she just rubs her throat.

This apparently isn't suitably shocked for Celestia's satisfaction. The professor gives Twilight a speculative look as she adds, “I even stood at their wedding, in the end, if you can believe that.”

Her satisfied grin is all it takes for Twilight to know that a truly stunned look must be occupying her features. She's too stunned to be able to tell herself.

“So you left him because he was cheating on you?” Twilight asks, to fill the space. “Even if it was, for a...er...don't take this the wrong way, but a sort of better relationship?”

“No, no...we worked through that,” Celestia says, looking a little uncomfortable. “Sort of. I more or less banished Luna from our lives from a while, which in retrospect was a little harsh. But we tried to work through some other things as well, and it seemed like we were back on track.”

“Then, um...what happened?”

Celestia sets her now-empty mug on the coffee table and leans forward, giving Twilight a serious look.

“I want you to listen carefully, because I don't want you to get the wrong idea,” she says, quietly.

Twilight swallows. “Alright...”

“I love my son. Very much,” Celestia says, sitting back again with a sigh. “But, and you are not to ever even hint at this to him, he was not...planned.”

“Ahh...and you argued over whether to have him or n—”

Celestia raises a finger sharply, and Twilight's mouth snaps shut.

“I said listen,” the professor says. “No, we didn't argue about having him. It was a happy accident, as they say. But I had a very hard time with the pregnancy. The delivery in particular was very, very difficult, and frankly, I wanted to put it all behind me the very second I could. I went right back to work, full steam, and my husband didn't like that. It dredged up a lot of old arguments about my workload and a lot of other things. And so, eventually, we decided to get a divorce while Spike was still a toddler, so he'd grow up used to it, rather than trying to stay together and risk splitting up when he was older, which is always so traumatic.”

Twilight blinks. “That sounds like a very...rational decision.”

“It does, doesn't it,” Celestia murmurs. “And of course, as I've said, everyone's happier for it, even my little sister. Still, it isn't exactly pleasant, don't you think? So I try to keep it to myself.”

“I...see.”

And I thought I knew this woman pretty well...

Certainly, on the face of things, Celestia looks the same as she ever has. Same crisp, professional clothing, same lovely olive features, same magnificent mane of brilliant hair carefully arranged to flow around her face as if it moved by itself, same poise, same composure and quiet, underlying confidence.

She is at once that, and a woman who has gone through a messy relationship much more serious than Twilight's—

Celestia blinks, as if something had just clicked in her mind, and her face falls into embarassed sympathy. “Oh, Twilight, I'm so sorry. I've been so thoughtless...”

“Hmm? What? Have you?”

“I can't imagine you'd want to hear about this after your own relationship came to an end,” the professor says, covering her mouth with a hand. “That was very thoughtless of me.”

Twilight straightens up, startled. “You—you know about that? How?”

“Surely you don't think I'm the only professor who has taken an interest in you?” Celestia says, a spark of amusement slipping through the clouds of her embarrassment. “Professors know what it means when a star pupil's work starts slipping so very slightly, and then gets much, much better all of the sudden. And the departments are not hermetically-sealed environments, you know. People know you and I are friendly, so I hear things.”

“You heard about the B+, then,” Twilight groans.

“We all have off days.”

Twilight sits back, feeling tense and uneasy.

“It was just...a thing. I mean, it was nothing compared to what you've been through—”

That was a mistake. Celestia doesn't do anything so graceless as wince, but her eyes do close, slowly.

“Twilight, I didn't mean to make you feel like your feelings and experiences were less important than mine.”

“I don't! I didn't!” Twilight says, quickly. “Ugh, everyone says they just want to give me a chance to talk, but nobody listens to me when I say I just need a little time to get over D—over her. I'm not a robot or a weepy little girl. Honestly...”

“Her...?”

Twilight looks up at a raised eyebrow and a bit of a grin.

Oh, damn...!

“Er...yes. Her,” Twilight says, carefully. “Is that...a problem?”

Or worse, are you going to be like my brother and offer to share your porn with me...? I mean, it was pretty good, but still...ew.

“Don’t be silly, of course not. To be honest, I sort of got that impression since I kept catching you you daydreaming at Rainbow Dash a few rows from you, back when you were a little freshman being lectured at by a woman in a nice suit.” Celestia says nothing for a while, ignoring Twilight’s bashful scowl, but finally she smiles. “So it was her, then.”

“Emphasis on was,” Twilight growls.

If the professor has anything to say about this, she keeps it to herself and just gives a little half-shrug.

“Actually, I'm glad you told me about all of it,” Twilight declares, not really thinking about why she says it as much as making noise in a direction other than that topic.

“Oh? Why's that?”

Good question...um...

She does feel better, for some reason. But why...?

Twilight settles for an easy answer in lieu of actually having to think about this.

“It's nice to feel like you trust me.”

Celestia gives her a small smile. “Ah, well, I feel like you and I have moved to a point where we don't need to pretend there's a desk and a syllabus between us all the time. I do think of you as a friend, you know. Which is why I worry; I know as well as anyone that college relationships can be more complex than they have any right to.”

“Well...thank you,” Twilight says, enjoying the warm feeling she always gets when the professor descends from the lectern for her. “But there's nothing to worry about. I just broke up with my girlfriend—well, er, maybe girlfriend isn't quite the right word, um...”

“Oh, I see,” Celestia says, grinning in a very young way, as if they're sixteen year olds swapping stories at a slumber party. “It was that kind of relationship.”

Well, there's nothing I can do about this blush now. Fluttershy is totally rubbing off on me.

Twilight clears her throat and tries to look severe. “So you see why I'm not having a hard time getting over it. As she pointed out herself, it wasn’t as if we were married or anything...”

She says this blithely, as if it doesn’t matter. And it doesn’t.

Seriously, not even a little.

The professor taps her chin thoughtfully, with a sly look at her young friend. “I don't know, Twilight. That kind of...ha, fiery passion, shall we say, can burn you pretty badly—”

“Burns heal quickly,” Twilight says in a matter-of-fact sort of tone, as if by rote. “They're just surface wounds, after all...”

Celestia pauses, for just a moment, and some look in her eye makes Twilight worry she's going to insist on having a heart-to-heart—probably a one-sided “there are other fish in the sea” chat like she's gotten from her big brother. And Applejack.

And Fluttershy.

And Pinkie, although in her case it was “other cupcakes in the display case—oooh! Like this one!”

Twilight shakes her head.

I don't need another fish. A cupcake wouldn’t go awry, though...

But instead of inflicting another one of those agonizing conversations on Twilight, to her relief the professor just gives her an approving look. “That was a pretty good extension of a visual metaphor off the top of your head.”

“Er...I think it's something I remember from girl scouts, actually,” Twilight murmurs, shaking her head. “I don't know why my brain dredged it up, though, jeez.”

“Well, at risk of stretching that metaphor a bit farther than it probably deserves, burns heal faster with regular application of a salve,” Celestia says, rising to pull a slim DVD case off one of the overburdened bookshelves. With a wink, she hands it to Twilight. “I promise, I didn't ask you here to talk your ear off about my divorce. I just thought you might like some company to take your mind off things.”

“Blackadder the Second,” Twilight says, chuckling.

Celestia gives her a wry grin. “Since you keep 'forgetting' to watch it, no matter how much I nag...”

Twilight sighs and makes a show of seeming dismissive, although the truth is she's just happy to find the direction wandering away from Dash again. “Well, I was going to sit alone in my room and play video games all night, but just for you, I'll sit through an episode or two.”

“Just try to relax, Twilight,” Celestia says, popping out the disc. “Personally, I find nothing quite as diverting as cross-dressing Englishmen being sarcastic at each other, how about you...?”

Thunder rolls—a low, rumbling sound that takes its time finishing. It's not something you get very often in November, so maybe it has a right to make sure everyone knows it showed up.

Twilight snaps awake—

“What the...!”

Wait—waaiiit. I was asleep?

A moment's further investigation reveals that more than that, she's been gently wrapped in a blanket, a pillow has been shoved under her head, and her glasses have been removed—hopefully before she rolled on them and bent the arms, like she's done so many times before.

She blinks a few times and reviews her memory to the best of her ability.

So...the girl dressed as a boy, I remember that...and then Blackadder fell for her, because that's how comedy works...

What then?

After that all she can remember is something about leech farming, but that can't be right.

Well, no, we're talking Elizabethan England, so it's probably more right than I want to think about.

Tired muscles whine a song of soreness as she sits up, pushing off what turned out to be a pretty scratchy wool blanket. Somehow she was unsurprised to find that someone had tried to make her comfortable and instead she'd curled up into a ball and wedged herself as deep into the crease between the back and arm of the futon as possible.

She stands, grunting as she stretches her aching back.

The TV is turned off, and the lights are out; the only sound filling the dark gloom is the distant hiss of the driving rain outside.

Professor Celestia is nowhere to be seen.

Stumbling in the dark, Twilight tries to quietly move through the apartment. She is assisted in navigating by the helpful way her shins seem to find the corner of every piece of furniture.

Nice. Very nice. At least it's long pants weather, so nobody will wonder why my skin is purple from the knees down.

Hissing curses under her breath, she manages to find her way into the little kitchen again, groping for the table lest she run headlong into it and spill the dishes all over the floor. There's a door on the opposite side of the kitchen which had remained closed, but faint yellow light is spilling out from underneath it now.

Twilight is caught in a moment of indecision.

Maybe I should just go back to sleep...? Or is that as much an imposition as—

She sighs.

There's not really a roadmap for this situation, is there?

It was one thing to be dodging a conversation, and another to pass out instead of accepting the professor's hospitality—especially since it's not like she had been drinking, or anything!

On the other hand, it's not as if Celestia was inexperienced in what to do with children, apparently even if they happened to be twenty years old.

Twilight groans, squirming in place, unsure what to do.

Might as well ask, huh?

Guts knotting with nervousness, she quietly raps on the door.

“Professor?” she croaks, and coughs. The dryness of her throat tells her she had been sleeping with her mouth open...and probably snoring.

Wonderful. Dignity is really not my thing today.

There's a brief pause.

“Twilight? Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I—”

“You can come in, if you'd like.”

Twilight's hand lingers, mid-knock, and slowly lowers to the doorknob. Something in her seems reluctant to actually admit that the professor has a bedroom.

Oh, come on, Twilight, stop being so weird. It's not like she's a goddess or something.

She's just a person, with a divorce and feelings and...everything. If it was Applejack or Fluttershy, you wouldn't think twice—although you'd probably watch your feet for something small and furry trying to sneak out.

She's a friend.

“Are you sure you're alright?”

The door is swinging open before Twilight realizes what's happening. She blinks in the sudden light.

It's a small room, just like everything else in this place. The nightstand and bed take up most of one side of the room, while a huge, dark dresser and a closet take up most of the other side. A large pair of windows gives a nice view of the street outside through some currently denuded branches; outside, the light from a streetlamp swirls and distorts as it flickers through the heavy rainfall.

The professor is sitting up in the bed, joined there by a pile of essays she appears to have been correcting. She's let her hair down and is wearing a pair of reading glasses low on her nose.

She looks tired, Twilight notes.

Or is it just that she's not wearing makeup?

Either one would be as unusual as the hair. Twilight's not sure she's ever seen Professor Celestia anything less than fully prepared for the world outside, even during end-of-term crunch times.

“P-professor, I...I'm sorry, I have no idea what came over me,” Twilight manages.

Celestia sets the essay on her lap aside and gives Twilight a faint smile. “The very second you started to relax and enjoy yourself, you began dozing off on my shoulder. It was pretty cute, to tell you the truth.”

“I—”

“You've been running yourself exhausted for weeks now, I suspect,” Celestia continues. “I sort of expected not to see you again until the morning. I was about to turn in myself.”

Twilight automatically turns to the door. “Oh...sorry. Um. I'll leave you be, then—”

Celestia just gives her a patient look, which neatly illustrates that while Twilight's self-effacement is an unusual and sometimes pleasantly humble behavior, the professor knows when it's being used as a defense mechanism.

“Sorry,” Twilight mumbles.

“Please, just...sit.” Celestia gathers the essays up with practiced ease, the corrected papers laying crossways across those yet to be reviewed, and sets them on the nightstand, followed by her glasses.

Twilight hesitates very slightly before crawling up onto the bed next to Celestia, hugging her knees.

For a while, the professor just sits back and breathes slowly, arms folded across her chest. She's exchanged her usual suit for some loose-fitting lounge slacks and a zip-down hooded sweatshirt—which is weird, because the apartment is pretty warm even in this bitter-cold weather. Twilight is a little hot in her khakis and turtleneck, if she's honest, but it's not like she carried sleepwear with her everywhere just in case someone invited her over for the night.

“How do you feel? A little more...rested, I hope?”

Celestia's voice stirs Twilight out of her thoughts, such as they were when she's half-asleep like this.

“Wha-? Oh,” Twilight murmurs, her guts tightening. “I, er...”

Is that an invitation to...talk? Was she hoping I’d suddenly feel the need to gush after a little rest...?

Celestia’s look of quiet patience gives her absolutely no direction whatsoever.

Twilight grits her teeth.

No. Keep quiet. If there’s anything you’ve learned tonight, it’s that you have no right to complain, compared to her.

She forces a vague smile. “I’m feeling much better. You’re right, I was pretty worn out.”

For a long time, the professor just gives Twilight a small, thin-lipped smile, before looking away and tossing her hair over a shoulder restlessly.

“I don’t mean to be selfish, but...would you mind if I talk about myself a little more, Twilight? About the divorce, and that sort of thing.”

“N-no. Of course not.”

“I just don't want to make you uncomfortable,” the professor says, with a serious glance in Twilight's direction. “You’re not my therapist; I don’t pay you nearly enough.”

Twilight sputters for the right words. “I'm, um, I’m here to listen if you want to talk. I’m more worried that I've upset you somehow. Er, professor.”

“Just Celestia, while we're in my apartment, please. And it's not you,” Celestia says, sighing. She reaches for a glass of water on the night stand and takes a short sip. As she continues, she swirls the liquid around and around, watching it idly. “It’s discussing everything about the divorce and my past. It always makes me...think.”

“Think, huh?”

“Oh yes. And of all people, you should know how dangerous that is...”

Alarm! Alarm! Conversation very much drifting into choppy waters...

Twilight tries to smile encouragingly. “We could always talk about something else. Get your mind off of it. Or, um, I didn't finish the episode of—”

Her chatter dies a sudden death in Celestia's sharp expression.

“Sorry,” Twilight mumbles.

“I've been thinking about...people,” Celestia continues, politely removing Twilight's last few statements from the record. “I usually am, of course. I'm interested in people.”

“That makes one of us,” Twilight says, automatically.

Celestia smiles halfheartedly at the old in-joke. “I was just thinking about how the way people hurt each other is so...important. How it's so illustrative, sometimes.”

Twilight shifts uncomfortably. “You mean, like...what your husband did—”

“No, Twilight, no,” the professor interrupts, suddenly—not in a harsh tone of voice, not angry, but it was firm and hurt nevertheless. “I was thinking about what I did to him, which led to everything else.”

For a long moment, the hiss of the rain is the only sound. Celestia looks back at the glass and swirls it a few times again.

“But...he's the one who cheated on you,” Twilight says. “And not just with anyone, either. With—”

“I know who it was with, Twilight. No need to rub it in.”

“Still—”

Celestia pats Twilight fondly. “Thank you for trying to defend me. Really. But think about it. He wasn't a serial philanderer, or anything. I wasn't lying when I said he loved me, very much, and took our marriage seriously. So ask yourself, why would a man like him have an affair, and eventually leave me for another woman?”

Twilight frowns. “Well...you said he thought you were a workaholic.”

“He's not wrong. You know how I can get—I even made you collate all those presentation papers for me last year.”

“That's no reason to, um...to cheat on you, though.”

“It wouldn't be, if it were the only thing, but it wasn't. It was just part of a larger trend of...how can I put this...?” Celestia says, taking a long swallow. “I hate to say 'neglect', because it sounds so severe, but in the end that's what's on the court record and on the documents giving him majority custody of Spike. But I think it’s better to say I just wasn't there for him as a wife should be...because I didn't love him. Not in a romantic way, anyways.”

She frowns, faintly, and takes another sip of water.

Twilight says nothing, obeying a nervous buzz in her head that suggested she'd offended or needled Celestia somehow; but it's nothing like that. The professor has just taken a moment to stare out the window.

And anyways, something about Celestia's tone of voice suggests that it was the wrong thing to assume. It isn't Twilight she's upset with.

The important thing—the really important thing—is to keep focusing on her.

I care about her. She needs me to listen.

This is not about me!

“That's the worst thing about it, really,” Celestia says, as bitterly as Twilight has ever heard her speak, which in comparison to anyone else wasn’t very much at all. But it was as obvious as ink dropped into clean water, even if it was just a tiny drop. “I try to look back on it and be angry at him, or say that there was fault on both sides. Sometimes I even try to convince myself I just miss him; but I find it hard to willingly deceive myself. ”

Twilight's heart is beating really fast and hard, now.

Celestia rubs her face to cover her mouth screwing up in pain. “The divorce—the whole marriage, in retrospect—showed me that I can be very cruel, which I find hard to accept. And it hurts to look back and know I could have done better, if I'd just done some things differently. I could have avoided all the hurt, so many times. But I didn't.”

“What...what do you...”

“It was my fault that so much pain happened. My fault that Spike will grow up with separated parents. All because I was...lying to myself, telling myself that, okay, I have a career and a husband. That's all settled. I thought it was enough to be supportive and friendly, but...no, it's not. Love is more than that...”

I'm trembling why am I trembling

Show her you're an adult. Concentrate on what she’s saying.

“W-why?” Twilight murmurs. “Are you saying you knew you didn't love him when you agreed to get married?”

Celestia nods, vaguely.

It's a little eerie how she doesn't seem terribly upset; she's not trembling or tearing up or strained. She's recounting all of this in a resigned, matter-of-fact tone of voice, like a plowman working a furrow so deep that he wondered why he felt the need to plow it anymore.

The silence is unbearable.

“Why?” Twilight repeats.

Why would you—how could you do that to someone...!? He loved you, and you—

She clenches the blanket beneath her in a fist, hoping Celestia won't notice.

This is not about you, Twilight Sparkle!

Focus!

The professor gives her a reserved smile. “Because...we have something in common, Twilight.”

“I...I...” Twilight stammers, as her mind reels, desperately trying to understand what Celestia is saying.

And then it hits her.

“Oh my god,” she gasps, staring wide-eyed at Celestia. “Oh, my god...you were trying to hide—”

“It was a very different time, Twilight,” Celestia says, in a curt, controlled voice. “I have to admit that I am very envious of you for living in a time where it's more acceptable to be openly homosexual than it was when I was your age. Not that things are perfect, of course, but—”

She's interrupted by Twilight crushing her in a hug.

“I'm so sorry,” Twilight hisses. She feels tears leaking out of her eyes.

For a moment, Celestia doesn't move, or even seem to breathe. Twilight just clings to her, taking deep breaths in a hopeless attempt to calm herself.

Then Twilight feels herself gently embraced in return.

“I'm not even sure who I was hiding it from, anymore,” Celestia says, her voice barely louder than the rainfall. “But that's not important. The important thing is that because I acted on that fear for so long, I caused a great deal of hurt—to myself, to my ex-husband, to my sister...and I just barely avoided doing so to my son.”

“It's okay,” Twilight says, for something to say. “You had a good reason, you—”

Celestia gently pushes Twilight upright, so they're sitting face to face. “I had a reason, yes. But in acting on it, I learned about some of the less admirable sides of myself. How I can be cruel and manipulative and take advantage of others, even if I'm acting from a...let's call it a reasonable motive.”

She reaches forward and takes Twilight's hands in her own, giving the younger woman a gentle smile.

“And that's the worst thing,” Celestia says, the sadness in her eyes not managing to do more than accentuate the honesty of her calm, pleasant expression. “I sit here, in moments like this, and try to go over all of it in my head. Try to figure it out, hoping that this time, it'll be different. That something will have changed and I'll be able to walk away from it at last, my guilty conscience finally absolved. But it never changes, no matter how many times you go over it...”

Twilight bites her lower lip, eyes wide, as Celestia adds:

“Does it?”

She knows.

Somehow, in the dreadful privacy of her mind, Twilight knows Celestia can somehow see all the nights lying awake, agonizing over every word Dash ever said, over the way she moved and talked and looked at things—

And more importantly, the things Twilight had done, and said, and felt, herself.

Right up to and including shoving Dash away, because—

Because—

No, best to not even...to not...

But how!?

“No. You don’t need to...this isn't about me,” Twilight whines.

“Sure it is,” Celestia says, raising an eyebrow. “This is why you don't want to talk about what happened, isn't it?”

There aren’t words, really; Twilight just stares at Celestia, mildly stunned.

The professor gives her a half-smile and gently brushes some hair out of Twilight’s face. “I knew that look, when I bumped into you a few weeks ago. And this evening—I could see it in your eyes. You look tired, and hunted. You're scouring your mind, trying to find anything that made it a little less Your Fault. Meanwhile, everyone's trying to tell you to get over it and that there will be another relationship—the last thing you want to hear right now. Because you want the next relationship to go right...like this one didn't.”

Twilight stares at her, just breathing. Her mind is...everywhere.

She looks away, blushing. If she thought she was childish before, making the same sound as refusing to eat her greens was proving it.

Celestia just smiles patiently. “What did you find out about yourself, Twilight?”

The sound Twilight makes is somewhere between a reluctant moan and a whine, which comes out like “Mmmmnnnnyeh.”

“It's okay. You know you can trust me,” Celestia whispers, a little more insistently. “This is why I wanted you to talk to me. You and I are two of a kind. Always trying to work things out properly in our heads. I want to be here for you. I understand.”

With a tiny whine in the back of her throat, Twilight raises her hands slightly to ask for a hug.

Celestia is warm, and her arms are strong, wrapping around the trembling young woman like a pair of angelic wings, comforting and understanding.

They sit like that for a while, Celestia gently rubbing Twilight’s back.

“I never knew how lonely I am,” Twilight says, her face buried into the soft wool lining of Celestia's sweatshirt. “I always thought I liked being being by myself, but...”

“I’ve always known. It's why I kept prodding you to get out and make friends.”

Twilight sighs. “We had sex five minutes after talking to each other for the first time. I got totally carried away. She swept me off my feet.”

“There's nothing wrong with that, in and of itself. I confess myself a bit jealous, really.”

“No, I...I know that, but...”

Celestia pulls back enough that she can give Twilight a look of cautious curiosity. “Hm? Was it just a sexual relationship, then? I thought—”

“It sounds horrible to say, but I almost wish it had been just a sex thing,” Twilight says, mournfully, throwing her head back to stare at the blank space above Celestia’s headboard. “Instead, I was...I dunno, we had something. A lot of sex, yes, but...even when we weren’t being physical, she was pulling me out of my shell, little by little. She wanted me around, and so did the people she introduced me to, and...”

I’m gonna have to say it. But I really don’t want to...

“I fell in love with her. Instantly, really. Because she wanted me,” Twilight says, looking back at Celestia. “And I wanted her. Bad. But more than wanting her, she made me so happy. She’s so passionate, and makes everything come to life—watching movies, playing games, even just sitting around doing homework was different, because she was there. I mean, I...I still love her, I think.”

The professor nods. “I believe it.”

Wait, you do?

“Wait, you—”

“What did you expect?”

Twilight frowns. “Well, honestly, I expected you to say what I’ve been trying to tell myself for a few weeks now. That it wasn’t really love, just...infatuation.”

"Call me romantic, but I think the modern tendency towards dismissing relationships as ‘infatuation’ because they’re youthful and passionate is a bit cynical,” Celestia says. “ I don’t know Rainbow Dash terribly well, but she’s charismatic and attractive, as well as being a generally pleasant person to be around—a little cocky and hotheaded, maybe, but that’s fun, too. But I can’t imagine it wasn’t overwhelming for you.”

“That’s the problem. That’s what I learned, prof—Celestia I learned just how insecure and lonely I really am.” Twilight slumps in place, not relishing the memory. “I couldn’t stop telling her how I loved her, and how I was so happy with her, and how beautiful she was, and...everything.”

Celestia hisses between her teeth. “That is coming on a bit strong, yes.”

“Yeah, well...”

“I don’t get the impression she cheated on you, though,” Celestia says, in a voice which was a little thicker with speculation and rationality than was absolutely necessary, just to get the point across. We’re Figuring Things Out (TM), is all. Nothing scary. “I think you would have reacted differently to my own experience if she had.”

“No, but she...I...” Twilight shakes her head, unsure what to say. “When I’m...trying to make it her fault, in my brain, you know, I try to make it out that she was losing interest in me. But...no, she wasn’t. I don’t think. It’s not like she started avoiding me, or anything. We had meals together, and hung out in each others’ rooms all the time. But she was always, you know...pushing back, a little. She never liked hearing me say that I loved her, for example—and the more she pushed back, the tighter I held on...”

“I see,” Celestia says. She gives Twilight a knowing look. “Window shopping? Wandering eyes? Whatever they call it these days, I never seem to be able to keep up.”

“Oh, yes. Lots.”

Celestia squeezes her hands tightly for a moment, looking sympathetic.

Twilight shrugs. “Eventually it got to the point where I was just trying to hold on no matter how hard she pushed, because deep down I was so terrified of being alone again. Just the thought of not being the only girl she wanted, and having to let go of everything drove me insane. I was so controlling, it’s terrifying...”

“And now, looking back, you can’t help but wonder why you did those things.”

“I’m not that way—that’s not how I am, I swear! I didn’t want to...I don’t know, clip her wings, or whatever. Part of what I like about her so much is that she’s so passionate and carefree and confident, but...”

They sit in silence for awhile, neither one really looking at anything, as they give this some thought. The important thing is that they’re not alone as they do this. They speak a silent mantra of gentleness and comfort in gentle squeezes of each others’ hands.

Twilight breaks the silence with a little whine. “And now she’s gotten herself messed up, somehow. And I might be the only person who she’ll open up to...”

“But not if you’re going to—and I am sorry about this—panic and try to clamp down on her again.”

“Right.”

Celestia gives her a sad smile and raises her arms. “Come here.”

The embrace is as warm and comforting as it was before, even if it is only for a moment. Celestia clutches Twilight to her long enough for the younger woman to cough out a few ugly sounds that were threatening to be sobs. Who had time for that?

Twilight feels...strange. Hurt, and lonely, as if her throat has betrayed her for not keeping all of this carefully tamped down. Having it all laid out has left her feeling ragged and exposed; but with her arms around a woman who had just let her spill without judging or misunderstanding anything, it’s not quite as frightening as she’d thought it would be.

It really is so important to be understood.

That was something worth keeping in mind, for later.

The hug ends, and with exaggerated fatigue Twilight flops down next to Celestia, her head sinking into the soft, unused pillow.

“I just wanted to hear her say it,” Twilight mutters. “Say it, and mean it. Just once. ‘I love you, too, Twilight Sparkle’. I think she did, you know, in her way.”

“There is a kind of person for whom loving, and being loved, is very unfamiliar.” Celestia reaches over and gently removes some stray hair from Twilight’s face. “They feel...vulnerable, out of control, like they’re losing their independence. It’s hard.”

know that, and in retrospect it is so obvious what was going on and what I should have done, but...” Twilight closes her eyes and sighs. “I really, really just couldn’t deal with it. I

She rolls over and curls up against Celestia, and then realizes she’s done so.

Before she can roll away sputtering apologies, though, an arm closes around her and squeezes her shoulders, pressing Twilight's head into the graceful curve of the professor’s neck.

“I know,” Celestia says, somewhere above Twilight's head. “I know.”

Twilight closes her eyes.

She really does.

“But that's part of really loving and caring about someone,” Celestia continues, in a hushed voice. “You have to care for who they really are, not who you want them to be.”

“Yeah.”

They lay like this for a long time, letting the room fill with the distant hiss of the rain.

Twilight is happy to just press against the warm body next to her, which gently rises and falls as Celestia takes long, calming breaths.

“Feeling a little better?”

Twilight nods. Just a little, but that's something; she at least feels a little more in control. It's out there, now, the secrecy is done with and it's been said. It's a bit like how, right after the tetanus shot, you can feel where it hurt and you know it's going to keep on hurting for a while, but at least you're not wound up with worrying about it anymore.

She looks up, and sees the same extreme spiritual fatigue in Celestia's eyes she feels herself.

Oh, good job, Twilight, way to go.

“I'm sorry you had to dredge all that up, just for me,” Twilight mutters.

Celestia gives her a stern look. “Don't you dare feel guilty, Twilight Sparkle, it was more than worth it. And anyway...you've helped. When I told my sister about all this, she was furious with me.”

“Really?”

“I told you, she has loved her husband from the very second they met,” Celestia says, with a sigh. “It’s...affirming for someone to sympathize with me. I certainly don't, after all...”

They chuckle, even though this isn't really funny. Anything to let out a little of the tension.

Twilight redoubles her cuddle, which in base physical terms entailed not moving or doing anything, really, but mentally represented a lot of effort.

It hurts to hear Celestia say this sort of thing about herself, especially the more Twilight thinks about it. For all her protests that she is ultimately at fault, it’s not like she did the things she did completely without reason.

And it was a real shame to think of her lying in her marriage bed, for years, knowing that she didn’t and wouldn’t ever really love the person next to her--or, for that matter, that she didn’t really have her choice in who that person was, really.

Shame she’s a professor, and not just a few years older than me...

Like, maybe, head of a student organization. Or an upperclassman in my program. Or my supervisor at a part-time job...

Twilight hums sardonically to herself. Maybe she shouldn’t have written all that AU yuri fanfiction back in high school; it had clearly left her with a certain direction to her imagination.

Oh man, I would be all over her!

Actually, I’m kind of all over her as it is. Not that anything more’s going to happen.

That thought’s a little disappointing, if she’s honest.

Man, if this was Applejack—no, that Rarity girl...

A little bolt of shame—its fletching bright blue, yellow, and red—finds its way firmly into her guts, a reminder that she’d grown angry at Dash for almost exactly what she just did herself.

She sighs.

I just really, really don’t want to be alone right now...no wonder my mind’s wandering.

And let’s be honest. Curled up, here, with her...

We have got to get her a girlfriend for me to be a little jealous of.

Celestia pats her shoulder, pulling her from her thoughts, and gives Twilight a gentle smile. “I’m sure you must be tired after all this. We should pull the futon out so you can get some sleep.”

Maybe it’s wishful thinking informed heavily by her latest line of mental inquiry, but Twilight senses the faintest hint of guilty reluctance in Celestia’s demeanor. But even so, that’s just...

Well.

Well, well, well...

Feeling a silly grin blooming on her face, Twilight clings to Celestia in what she intends to be a playful way and puts some pout in her voice. “What if I want to stay here with you instead?”

The way Celestia tenses makes Twilight worry she's pushed it a little far, but almost immediately, the tension slips away and Celestia just sighs. “Twilight...you know better than that.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Twilight says, unable to hold back a laugh. “You can do way better than me, right...?”

Celestia gives her a sour look. “That's not what I meant.”

Twilight sits up, unable to resist the urge to poke at this. For fun, if nothing else. “Oh yeah?”

“Don't be like that.”

“Be like what?”

“Twilight, I may think of you as a friend, and trust you, but I do have a responsibility to you,” Celestia says. “You're very vulnerable right now—”

“So are you,” Twilight says, obeying a sudden impulse. “And I-I’m just as responsible to you as you are to me, don’t you think?”

Celestia freezes in mid-statement, suddenly seeming, for the first time in memory, like she doesn’t know exactly what to say.

Twilight has been more sure of herself than she is now, many times, but something about the way she feels herself being pushed along doesn't feel...wrong. The words seem to just appear on her tongue, without need for much thought. On the contrary, thoughts seem to get in the way.

And it's not all that scary, really. She can see everything very clearly, in this moment.

She doesn’t want to be alone. Neither of us do. But...she feels like she has to be, because I’m...

“Don't,” she hears herself say. “Don't suddenly try to be a professor with her student again. It's alright.”

Just let yourself feel what you feel. I understand.

Celestia frowns. “Twilight, it's not alright. I didn't open up to you about my past, and my sexuality, because I wanted our relationship to become something...roman—”

“Don’t insult me,” Twilight interrupts. “I just don't want you to feel like you have to hide from me or set yourself apart from me again. I want to keep being two friends who are hurt. And lonely. And I don't want to have to pretend like I don't want to be close to you right now just because you’re older than me.”

“I don't want to take advantage of you—”

And here's where the fun starts.

Twilight takes Celestia's hand, shakes it, and gives her a huge, smug grin. “Who said anything about anybody taking advantage of anyone else? All I said is I want to be close to you. Like, here, in bed, beside you. Sleeping or whatever.”

Celestia stares at her, utterly dumbfounded.

Then she smiles, vaguely at first...

Twilight winks, or at least tries to. She loves it when Celestia winks; it’s nice to be reliably told that someone is pulling your leg a little, so she returns the favor as best she can even though she knows it’s coming off all kinds of nervous. “But since you bring it up...”

I have learned a thing or two, haven’t I...

Celestia tries to keep herself under control. She really does, it shows on her face.

But then she snickers, despite herself, before bursting into desperate laughter. Twilight laughs with her, and like stale air flowing out of a room that's had the doors and windows flung open, any pretense of seriousness or gravity flees.

“That really shouldn’t have worked as well as it did,” Celestia confesses, struggling to speak through the last few chuckles. She wipes tears out of her eyes. “I don't even want to know what you think of me...”

I think you are a good woman, a good friend, and drop-dead gorgeous. I think you’re hurt and lonely and I don’t want you to feel that way anymore.

I think I haven’t been this excited in almost a month...

No, no, that’s a bit tactless.

“What I think,” Twilight says, giving Celestia a serious but open smile and squeezing her hand, “is that I wouldn't mind spending some time just...being together. If you want. I mean, let’s...let’s make right now just about you, and me, and not worry too much about anyone else right now...”

Something about that seems...kind of all right.

Still Celestia looks skeptical, so Twilight rolls out the ace in the hole.

“We’re just Celestia and Twilight here, right? Friends,” she says, giving Celestia the best impression Twilight could muster of the woman’s own open, utterly calming smile. It’s not good enough, not even close; but she’s doing her damnedest. “And we’re both hurting. Lonely. So let’s just be, uh...lonely, together. You know?”

The older woman smiles faintly and lies back, arms crossed over her chest, and appears to give this some thought for awhile. For her part, Twilight runs over the last few minutes in her head and begins to wonder what the hell got into her.

Not that she minds, but, seriously, what is it?

“I suppose I’m owed one night of being a little stupid,” Celestia finally says, to the world in general, smiling vaguely.

Twilight’s stomach does a bunch of loop-de-loops.

Yesyesyesyesyesyesyesyes—

Wait no instead hello performance anxiety, my old friend...

Before she can get too carried away, though, Celestia turns and gives Twilight a sharp eyebrow. “But listen. In the morning, you and I are going to figure out what you're going to do about Rainbow Dash. And maybe talk a little bit about what I want to do in the future, too, none of which will involve you as anything except a friend and confidant. Someone to talk to and drink coffee with. Yes?”

“I look forward to it.”

Twilight’s perkiness is rewarded with a stern look. “I’m serious.”

“Absolutely. In the morning, I’ll remind you not to be clingy.”

When did I get so...aggressive? Sheesh! I’m scared out of my wits and I’m making jokes?

“Ha!” The laugh makes Celestia look much, much younger, as it settles into a grin. “That good, are you?”

Well Fluttershy did say Dash never stayed with anyone as long as me, but I don’t think this is what she meant.

It occurs to Twilight that she should probably say something suitably erotic at this point.

What would a sexy,confident girl like Rainbow Dash say...?

She considers a few options, but they don't feel quite right. They feel awkward on her tongue—unnatural and forced. They were lines that required an attitude of utter cool, something that Twilight had never quite been able to master.

Nothing for it but being Twilight Sparkle as hard as I can. It's gotten me this far, hasn't it?

“Let's hope so,” she says.

Celestia smiles and reaches over to put out the light.

Twilight sits up, eagerly looking down at Celestia, and—

And...

A nervous frown finds its way across Twilight's face.

You know, usually I'm already half-naked by the time we're laying in bed. I haven’t been prepared for a situation where I am not actively fending off the other person so that she doesn't grab my boobs before Fluttershy is all the way out of the room...

“I take it being the, hmm...assertive party is a bit of a new experience for you, Twilight?”

Celestia's chuckle just makes Twilight huff and look away haughtily. “I'll adapt.”

A pair of hands gently grasp her own, and Twilight lets herself be pulled down next to the older woman, who smiles at her broadly.

“Why don't we just start like this, and see where we go, hmm?”

It becomes apparent quickly that this really will not be what Twilight is used to.

She's used to the sudden touch of eager, hungry hands running over her, trying to touch her whole body all at once. She's used to kisses delivered with the same force and intensity as a punch, with a minimum of grace or flair. Kisses that spoke of need as much as desire.

She's used to fast. And hard. A rush, all at once, of as much sex as possible, now. She's used to it being a blur where she can barely keep up, where she lets her mind wander for a minute and the moment she looks back, she's already naked and her partner has her almost there—

That's the passion of youth in the springtime of love, perhaps. Honest and energetic, but inelegant.

This is different.

This is...slow. Comforting. Deliberate.

Calming.

Celestia's kisses are long, slow, sweeping things, like a billowing cloak in a gentle breeze. Twilight has time to feel the movement of her lover's body as they breathe together, and appreciate the warmth and softness of Celestia's body as they gently curl into each other. And when they part, it's not to desperately catch their breath, but to let their eyes linger on each others'.

In short, as nice as it is, Twilight has to admit...it's a little more boring than she'd been led to expect.

Maybe the trouble is that I have time to think about it...?

There's something wrong, something not quite working—which is a strange thing to think as she gently kisses her way down an elegant jaw and neckline being arched eagerly into her attentions. Under her lips, Celestia gasps and sighs as if she's never been happier.

What is—

Oh. Seriously?

Twilight kisses her way back up to eye level with Celestia, whose smile seems much less innocent with her eyes half-lidded as they are.

“You don't need to keep your hands to yourself, you know,” Twilight murmurs.

She reaches down and takes an unresisting hand, placing it on her hip. To her immediate pleasure, the hand suddenly comes to life, gently moving over her body, tracing the curve of Twilight's body with agonizing slowness.

Celestia smiles as Twilight's breath comes a little heavier. “I just don't want you to feel rushed.”

“Well maybe I want to feel rushed,” Twilight says, wryly. “I sort of like it when women want to take my clothes off.”

“Is that so...?”

Groaning theatrically, Twilight takes Celestia's hand again and guides it under her turtleneck, kissing her with a little more passion than they'd done so far. As the hand grows more ambitious in running over her skin, she rewards the attention with little hums of pleasure.

The warmth of Celestia's hand moves across her belly, along her waist, up over the swell of her hips and then back—back, towards...

“It's alright,” Twilight murmurs. “You can. Please. I want you to...”

Even with a bra between the hand and her breast, Twilight can feel Celestia's shiver of eagerness.

And to think just a few hours ago I was uncomfortable even eating a meal prepared by this woman...

But she hadn't been a woman, then, had she?

She'd been Professor Celestia, the platonic ideal of scholarly achievement, professionalism, and grace. More like Athena—an unapproachable, distant goddess whose personal involvement in Twilight's life was a show of her immense grace and nobility.

Now, she’s smiling into a kiss as she helps peel off Twilight's shirt.

I think I like this better...

Twilight shivers, although whether that's the sudden coolness of the air on her exposed skin or the feeling of a suddenly much more enthusiastic Celestia kissing her neck, her shoulders, down across the exposed skin of her chest...

Bra. Off. Now.

She scrambles awkwardly with the clasps, to the tune of Celestia’s pleased chuckles.

There.

“You're right,” Celestia says as Twilight lets herself free, eyes unashamedly lingering somewhere slightly below eye level. “This is much better than lying here by myself.”

Twilight just grins. “Mmm. What about you?”

“We'll worry about me later.”

“Oh, come on. At least take that sweater off,” Twilight croons.

Celestia gives her a playfully exaggerated frown. “Young people are so impatient.”

Twilight begins to respond, but her words are cut short by a little gasp. Celestia is kissing her again, hands firmly caressing the length of the younger woman's body as her lips move over her. Her neck—no, shoulders—no...lower...

“Yesssss...”

Twilight has to admit, this is an area she always felt was a little neglected in her previous experiences.

Fair enough, she wasn't a supermodel with boobs like whoa. Still, it's not like a C cup is something to ignore, unless you were Rainbow Dash, with eyes firmly fixed on and fingers racing towards the finish line between Twilight's legs.

Everyone has things they especially like, fair enough. And maybe compared to some people notnamingnamesFluttershyahem...

But, you know, at least notice them. They absolutely do not mind the attention.

Celestia takes one nipple into her mouth, gently, and presses her tongue against the very tip, rolling and sliding it across the warm, wet surface as Twilight whines happily above her, clutching the older woman's head. After a moment, she switches to the other breast, dragging her nose across Twilight's chest with deliberate slowness before gently teasing the other nipple into firmness with gentle nuzzles.

“How am I doing, for my first time...?” Celestia murmurs.

Twilight responds in the only appropriate way, pulling Celestia up and into a fierce kiss.

“I want to be naked,” Twilight hisses, breath heaving. “I want both of us to be naked. I want to see you...touch you...”

Celestia puts a finger on Twilight's lips, cutting her off—sort of. Twilight can't resist kissing and nuzzling the offered digit, mind swimming with thoughts of what to do with it.

“Mmmm. Twilight, relax a bit.”

Gaaaaahhhhh get naked! Now! I’m dying here, please...

Twilight gives her a little grin. “Come on, I just want to...reciprocate.”

Celestia closes her eyes, slowly.

It’s like one misplayed note in a piano sonata; it just throws off everything.

Nonononono that was supposed to be sexy...!

“Hey,” Twilight says, trying to tamp down the suddenly unsatisfied parts of her brain calling out for blood. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

She grabs Celestia’s hands and holds them to herself, which quiets the voices a little and seems to help them both relax.

Celestia just breathes for a moment. “It’s just...I’m not a young woman anymore, Twilight. I’ve had a baby. It’s been a long time since anyone has...seen me. Naked. Anyone who wasn’t a doctor, anyways.”

“Oh.”

Damn it, damn it, damn it! Can’t you control yourself? You should have thought first!

“I suppose I’m just worried that compared to a college girl in her athletic prime, I’ll be a bit of a letdown,” Celestia continues, heaving a mild sigh. “I’m so sorry. I must seem completely foolish. I never worry about this, but the very second you laid down next to me and we really got started, my mind started running away...”

Twilight has to suppress a groan of impatience. Her body is screaming to be touched; she can feel herself craving Celestia’s hands springing to life again and just...

No.

Control yourself!

And think. Fix this. Do the right thing.

Be strong for her.

Gently, she lowers Celestia’s hands and smiles. “Okay.”

“I’m sorry, Twilight, it’s just—”

“No, I’m sorry,” Twilight interrupts. She sighs through a wry grin. “You see what I mean? About me getting carried away?”

They share a long, quiet moment. Twilight tries to ignore how her exposed breasts take away from the solemnity of the moment somewhat.

“Do you want to stop?” Twilight asks. It’s the right thing to say, even if every inch of her is screaming in dread at even presenting the option.

She needn’t have worried, though. The look Celestia gives her is enough of an answer even before she speaks.

“God, no,” Celestia says, reflexively, glancing up at Twilight. “No. It’s just...I feel better having said something. I...I want this to be...”

She trails off, but Twilight can still hear her finish:

I want this to be good for you, too, Twilight.

Twilight almost rolls her eyes. It’s like she’s a blushing, virginal young girl in one of those yuri fics or someth—

She swears she can feel her heart stop for a minute.

In this moment Twilight realizes—really realizes—what it means for this to be Celestia’s first time being with another woman.

This really will be different than being with Dash. This was not playtime with someone who was confident in what they were doing, it was...

Different.

It’s hard. Everything in her just wants to be had, to be taken—that was familiar.

She wants Celestia to speak with surety and direct her hands—that’s how it’s always been.

But now is no time for childish things.

She gently hugs Celestia, resting the older woman’s head on her naked chest. Celestia’s breath hitches for a moment, and she tenses very slightly, but almost instantly, as if it hadn’t happened, she lets herself lean into the embrace.

“We’ll go slow,” Twilight says, quietly. “I’m sorry for pushing you.”

Celestia just sighs in relief, and with a smile, they continue.

It’s different, now.

What was wrong, before, was actually quite simple; in fact, Celestia had pointed it out herself. Twilight wasn’t taking charge; she’s sort of expected Celestia to, out of habit.

But that was the point, wasn’t it...? Here and now, things were different between them.

Now she takes the reins—although not in the sense most people mean when they say someone is ‘on top’ in bed. She lets Celestia explore, only guiding her very slightly like a mother sea bird gently correcting the flight path of a new chick with a tap of the wing. But she is the guide, the anchor for everything—and, as it happened, the body it’s happening to.

Which is nice.

Celestia is new at this. Eager, yes, and not entirely without an idea what she was supposed to be doing, but...hesitant, just like Twilight herself had been at first. Not wanting to do something strange or unpleasant, she balks at moving too quickly.

Twilight has to admit, now she understands why Dash used to get frustrated and have to almost shove Twilight’s hands or mouth the right way, which Twilight had always found a little scary, if she’s honest, although in an exciting kind of way.

But there you are: Dash is not an entirely good role model.

They go slow.

Little by little, Twilight can feel Celestia’s confidence and comfort growing. She gets bolder, kisses more freely, lets herself voice her pleasure as Twilight touches her in return...

Then, Twilight feels the right moment—not a word, or a sound, or an action, but a little lurch deep down that makes her move. The “gut” in “gut instinct”.

She puts her hand to the zipper of Celestia’s sweatshirt, and gives the woman a questioning look.

There’s only a moment of hesitation before Celestia nods, smiling faintly.

Off it comes. Twilight grins to see that Celestia, to some degree, shares Fluttershy’s issue with t-shirts—if she got one that fit across her chest properly, she’d be swimming in it.

That’s a bit of a change from being with someone who only fills a sports bra. Variety is the spice of life...

Celestia kisses Twilight's neck, very gently, as the young woman tosses the sweater away.

Twilight’s breath is coming in deep, lusty heaves as Celestia’s lips trail across her skin. “Are you okay?”

“Y-yes. But...as I said, there is some scar tissue, so please don't be...too surprised.”

Twilight just kisses her forehead and lets Celestia lean back to pull off the shirt.

Even in the faint light Twilight can see the dark stretch marks on Celestia's breasts and stomach, marring the smooth, olive skin where once her body had been accommodating the child growing within her. That Twilight was expecting, and thus it didn't take her too much by surprise; it was one of the little lies of the world which her mother loved to rail against that women just reverted to a base state after childbirth. Twilight Velvet wears her own stripes proudly, as proof that she’d brought new lives into the world.

The more literal scars are what really catch Twilight’s attention.

Twilight can sense Celestia anxiously keeping an eye on her as she takes in the thin but knobbly line running from below her belly button down to somewhere beneath the waist of her loungewear...and the slightly less ugly, but more ominous line crossing it.

She can’t help freezing in place, eyes wide.

A—a hysterectomy scar!?

“You know what that is, then? I'm impressed,” Celestia says in response to Twilight’s sudden tensing, forcing some classroom into her voice—praising an attentive and clever pupil.

“An aunt of mine had ovarian cancer when I was little,” Twilight murmurs, looking up at Celestia with concern etched on every inch of her face. “You didn't—”

Celestia shakes her head, forcing a smile. “No. But I had a very difficult delivery. They had to perform an emergency caesarian section, and the incision didn't heal properly. I would have died of septic shock if they hadn’t removed my uterus.”

Twilight leans over to Celestia, kissing her cheek.

She's always so immaculately, carefully dressed, Twilight muses. She always looks perfect.

It's always been something Twilight envies, deeply, about Celestia—one of many, many things she envies. But now, knowing what she knows, the truth of it is a little more apparent. Those suits she wears—always in layers, even during the summer, and always with pants rather than a skirt—are armor, almost literally.

Peel that away, and you can see the scars underneath. The marks that life has left on this poor woman.

And let’s not bullshit, shall we? Holy shit. Holy shit. Those are some ugly, ugly scars, never mind the metaphors. Part of me doesn’t even want to touch them...

This is an important moment. A bit of a test, after all the lessons she's been put through tonight.

When it really comes down to it, Twilight Sparkle, can you accept that even Celestia, who is, let’s face it, something like everything you secretly hope to be someday, is as small and human as you are yourself?

And can you be there when she needs you? Can you love her, as one friend loves another?

Or is it really too scary to think that there isn’t perfect beauty in the world?

And I thought differential calculus was easy.

Next to her, Celestia is breathing very slowly, controlling herself. Waiting.

Twilight takes her hand. “Are you okay?”

A moment passes.

“Yes.”

And this is the important part. Don't patronize her...

“Just tell me if anything I do hurts, or makes you uncomfortable, alright?” Twilight says, finding it very easy to smile.

The gratitude in Celestia's eyes tells her that she just got an A.

Don't ask if she wants to stop; of course she doesn't. She's worried I want to stop.

But I don't.

I want to be here, with her. I want to make her feel good. And what's more—

“I want to be naked,” Twilight declares.

How’s that for a change in mood? I’m getting kinda good at this.

Celestia laughs as, with an expression of tremendous seriousness, Twilight fights with her belt buckle, rolling on her back to slip off her slacks and toss them away. They’re followed shortly thereafter by a somewhat uncomfortably sodden pair of boy shorts and a pair of long socks.

Twilight ignores a momentary pang of bashfulness as she gets to her knees and plants her fists on her hips proudly. “Much better.”

“I see you keep yourself pretty clean down there,” Celestia says, making no pretense at not enjoying a young woman putting herself on display.

I wonder if she can see this blush...?

“Well, you know...I, er, people were looking at it. At me. Person. A person, so—”

“I hope you won't mind if I'm just trimmed, rather than manicured. I know that the modern thing is to pretend you’re still twelve years old, but I don’t like how it itches,” Celestia continues, pulling off her lounge pants, revealing a pubis covered in a light dusting of her pale, brilliant hair where Twilight only retained a little dark patch right above her vulva, because according to Dash it was cute and when she was the one down there with the razor Twilight hadn’t been about to argue.

Twilight takes a moment to bask in the wholeness of Celestia's nudity, and finds herself immensely pleased. She curves and flows, and even nude and scarred seems graceful and dignified. Her breasts are full, her legs go on for days, and above all her arms were gently, but firmly drawing Twilight down into a tender embrace.

She's so warm. So warm...it's like lyng in the sun...

Celestia's lips find Twilight's neck as they slip under the covers, bodies pressed firmly into each other. Twilight's breath comes in a pleased hiss as their breasts slide across each other, nipples touching now and again for momentary shocks of pleasure which seem to run straight down her spine, grounding themselves in her womanhood.

She has to remind herself that there's only two pairs of hands—it feels like more, like her whole body is being clutched against the wonderful, firm heat of the woman next to her. Her own hands grip Celestia's back, sliding up and down the lovely hills and valleys of her curves as they kiss...

And down further yet...

Celestia gasps, eyes going wide for a second as Twilight runs fingers slowly back and forth through the full bush peeking between her thighs. She knows—from experience—how agonizingly close to that wonderful bloom those fingers seem as they run through the wiry hair, teasing the sensitive skin there with every movement.

“Okay?” Twilight whispers.

“Mmm,” Celestia hums, punctuating this with a pair of quick kisses. “But...”

“What?”

“Don't...don't put your fingers in,” Celestia murmurs, a shade apologetically. “That's a bit uncomfortable for me.”

Internally, Twilight grumbles a bit. She was kind of looking forward to feeling that lovely warmth, gripping down as she pressed ever deeper...

But no, we adjust to the needs of the situation. We be creative...

Of all things, yuri fanfiction saves the day.

Ah! Heh, yes, that might work.

Twilight shifts slightly, and in sympathy Celestia rolls onto her back, splaying her legs. Beneath Twilight's fingers, the petals of her lover's vulva spread and Twilight takes a moment to reward this by letting her hand explore Celestia's sex, gently massaging the mound with the ball of her hand as her fingers danced across the rest.

“And now, for my next trick,” Twilight murmurs.

She loops a leg over Celestia's, and presses herself against the woman's thigh with a humm of satisfaction.

“Oh!” Celestia gasps, smiling hugely. “Oh, mmmm...I like that.”

Twilight just winks, and starts grinding herself against the smooth skin beneath her. Her lips roll and stretch, aided by the lubrication of her sex smearing and spreading beneath her as she lets herself pick up speed.

Celestia props herself up on her elbows and Twilight moans as a patch of wet heat presses against her own leg. The pubic hair adds a delicious scratching to the slick passage of Celestia's vulva across Twilight's skin.

They kiss, letting Twilight's hips do most of the work since she's in the best position to move. As she thrusts, Celestia's sex is dragged across her thigh, and as she retreats, the older woman presses hard against her so that they remain in contact as long as possible.

Eventually their bodies pick up the nice, easy rhythm, and they start to get more adventurous.

Celestia sits up a bit more, letting her mouth find Twilight's breasts again—and now, in the throes of excited lack of restraint, she's nipping and biting the pert nipples there, teasing them erect with firm swirls of the tongue before gently taking them between her teeth. The slight pain runs like electricity through Twilight, making her shudder and gasp, thrusting hard against Celestia's leg.

As her breasts get too sore, Twilight roughly pulls Celestia away into a harsh kiss before playfully pushing her down onto the pillow, marveling in the thrill of power before taking Celestia's own breasts in her hands as best she can. Celestia's eyes actually roll back in her head as Twi thrusts, hard, in time with gripping and massaging the older woman's bountiful chest.

Time passes. Sweat drips from both of them. The covers were thrown off sometime in the recent past, but at this point they're both blazing warm and are happy to be able to see each other's bodies in the dim light, both imperfect but so very, very close and so very, very good...

That said, it's pretty obviously reaching the “starting to slow down” phase. Twilight can already tell her hips are going to ache like crazy in the morning.

“I don't know if this...if this will get me there,” she has to admit.

Celestia shakes her head, smiling hugely despite the harshness of her breath. “No, I don't think it'll do for me, either...”

Twilight extracts herself from Celestia's legs, kissing her long and hard in the process, but doesn't flop down quite yet. The smell of sex is thick in the air and there's nothing like that to set her mind on one, and only one goal.

I want—no, need—to see what she looks like when she finishes. Oh, yes...

“How...how can I help you...?” Twilight mumbles, dimly conscious that her hands are slowly migrating to herself but not even caring a little.

“Well, you could keep giving me something to look at,” Celestia says, raising an eyebrow to match her saucy grin. She lets Twilight watch her hands slip down between her legs, obviously relishing the young woman's rapt attention.

Twilight leans over to kiss Celestia as she takes station next to her, cuddling up to her and spreading her own legs. Celestia is already starting to breathe hard again, hands expertly teasing herself.

It had never occurred to Twilight to think of this as something to do with another person before; but in the circumstances, she had to admit it was pretty perfect—just lying back, giving each other’s bodies very unsubtle glances, and masturbating together, enjoying the sight of another person's sexuality. Not making any pretense that this moment was about anything but pleasure.

It isn't going to take long, that was for sure. The very second her middle finger slips into herself, she shivers in a very familiar way that promises to satisfy the ache building in her.

Still, as long as she’s here with someone—

Twilight rolls her head and murmurs through heavy breaths. “You sure you don't want me to—”

She stops, mid-sentence, and stares.

“I'm—I'm almost there...!” Celestia murmurs desperately, biting her lip. “Just...mmm. Just...!”

Oh...oh, wow.

She's...gorgeous...!

Celestia's whole body tenses, arching her back and neck, thrusting her breasts into the air...

“Stand next to me,” Celestia moans. “Let me see you...! You’re so...so...”

Grinning, Twilight happily obeys.

In an instant, she's on her knees, her lips spread, two fingers plunged deep into herself and her other hand frantically massaging her clitoris. Celestia's eyes gleam as she watches Twilight's thighs clench and tremble...

“Oh—oh, yes—!”

It's not quite so romantic as they come at the same moment, but...it's close.

Twilight collapses—collapses—next to Celestia, who is staring up at the ceiling through half-lidded eyes, her chest heaving.

They don't say anything for a long time—breath just doesn't want to stay in their lungs. Twilight's thighs ache from overuse, and her breasts are still tender, but neither of those things manage to overwhelm the wonderful feeling of satisfaction flowing from between her legs.

“We have got to get you a girlfriend,” Twilight says, eventually.

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” Twilight says, rolling over to look Celestia in the eye. “I absolutely refuse to be the only woman who sees you like this. Oh my god, you are just spectacul—mmmph!”

It takes Twilight a moment to process this.

And why am I surprised she's kissing me, exactly?

Celestia pulls away with a strange look on her face.

“Hey, what happened to not being clingy?” Twilight asks, trying to joke.

Celestia grabs her hand and gives her a very firm, serious smile, and Twilight is taken aback by how small and vulnerable she seems in this moment—almost childlike.

But happy. Rewarded. Affirmed.

“Twilight. It has been a very, very long time since I felt...beautiful,” she says, quietly.

For a moment, Twilight doesn't know exactly what to say, but...

What else is there to say?

“Well...you are,” she says.

Celestia spares Twilight one final shy little smile before a much more familiar light of confident sarcasm appears in her eyes, and she grins widely. “Well, since you bring it up, there is someone I've been...hmm. Thinking about.”

Twilight chuckles. “Not five minutes after you finish and you're already chasing the next woman. I sure know how to pick 'em.”

“Oh, don't be like that,” Celestia says, giving Twilight a playful smack on the butt. “Anyways, I've known her longer than you; I worked with her on a study a few years ago. Something about value-per-tax dollar in low-income school districts, I think—she's a professor in the department of education, you see.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmmhmm. Cheerilee's her name. You met her once—remember? She was in my office once when you showed up for coffee last semester. Long pink hair, tall, a bit curvy? Very sarcastic, too, when she's not in front of students. You'd like her.”

Twilight scans her memory for a moment. “Uh...”

“And green eyes...” Celestia continues, a bit dreamily. “Lovely green eyes, very striking...”

Heh. Glad I'm not the only one who trails off like that.

Still:

“Think she's, uh...the right sort of person?”

Celestia turns to Twilight with a very knowing grin. “Based on subtle hints, like how she's constantly complaining about how hard it is for her to find women to date, I think so, yes. But I'm probably going to need some advice, even so. Someone to talk to...”

Twilight gives her a smile. “I'm free most Fridays.”

“I appreciate that,” Celestia says, relaxing a little.

She reaches down and grabs the previously-discarded blanket, pulling it up over them; now that they were calming down, the chilly weather was starting to bite.

And as the rush of sex and pleasure flowed away, Twilight’s mind inevitably ticks over. Typically, instead of lingering on recent memories insists on turning to a future that promised to be vastly less fun.

Without thinking, Twilight curls closer to Celestia, pressing up against the yielding warmth very, very gently.

It’s astonishing how just five minutes seemed to have removed most of the sexuality from it, but in the circumstances it did to be careful...

“Is this alright?”

Celestia wraps an arm around Twilight and gently kisses her forehead. “For tonight, yes. Absolutely.”

“Good. Because—”

Celestia squeezes her tight for a moment. “Because tomorrow morning you have to make a phone call.”

Twilight sighs. “Yes.”

She closes her eyes. Exhaustion sweeps over her, flooding the war between post-coital satisfaction and forthcoming stress, forcing a temporary ceasefire.

The last thing she hears before she is lost to sleep is Celestia's calm, gentle voice:

“Don't worry. You're not alone.”

Bzzzzzz! Bzzzzz!

The phone vibrates loudly where it had been discarded on the wood floor, clacking and whirring unpleasantly as it danced across the hard surface with each repeat of the ring.

Bzzzz! Bzzzzzzz!

Bzzzzz! Bzzzzzz!

Bzzzz—

A hand—one very obviously more used to weight equipment and the outdoors than books and computer keyboards—listlessly feels around for it, vaguely waving at the ground until it feels the plastic casing and grabs it.

The dim light of early morning trying to peek through the blinds is accentuated by the light from the phone's screen for a long while, as the little vibrating thing is held aloft to be stared at.

A while more.

It starts ringing again.

Bzzzzz! Bzzzz!

Bzzzzz! Bzzzzz!

Bzzzz! Bzzzz!

Bzzzz! Bzzz—

Beep

“Hey,” Dash croaks.

“Wow. She came...”

“She’s not much for subtlety, is she?”

“Nope.”

From their vantage point a few parking spaces away, Celestia and Twilight lurk and scheme.

Rainbow Dash really is trying to look nonchalant, leaning against her motorcycle with her shades halfway down her nose as she idly taps on her cell phone keypad. After a moment, she slips the little white phone back in her pocket and resumes her lazy, apparently careless attitude, staring off at nothing in particular. But there's something about being outside your ex-girlfriend's dorm building at nine thirty on a Saturday morning just because she asked nicely that makes every glance or shrug at passersby seem all the more obviously defensive.

A quiet buzz pierces the hush as Twilight's phone vibrates in her bag. Celestia sits back in the driver's seat of her car, crossing her arms and grinning as Twilight scrambles to read the text message.

Twilight gives her a sidelong look. “What?”

“No, no, nothing.”

“Seriously, what?”

Celestia takes a moment to give Dash—complete this morning with messy but brilliant hair, a beat-up leather jacket, and aviators—a long glance before giving her young friend a sly smile. “She seems...nice.”

“She is nice,” Twilight says, a bit testily. But then her essentially honest nature takes over and she adds, “Well...sometimes, anyways.”

“Not too nice, then.”

“No.”

“Of course not. That's no fun at all.”

“Exact-wait, what—”

Celestia chuckles. “You know, I used to have a motorcycle, too...”

“Okay, getting out of the car now...” Twilight says, rolling her eyes.

“I did! I'm serious,” Celestia continues. “I miss it sometimes. Maybe I should get a new one, what do you think? Not good for taking Spike to school, maybe, but...”

“Yep, hand on the door. See you later—”

“Relax, relax, I'll be good.” Celestia's smile fades only a little as Twilight slumps back down into her seat. “Are you sure you want to do this? I could drive around to the back of the building, and you could just call and tell her you weren't quite ready. Based on the conversation you had, it sounds like she'd understand.”

Twilight doesn't respond right away; she just stares down at her hands and fiddles with her phone, offering it to Celestia to read:

I'm out front, btu no pressure ok?

“You see how she took the time to add the apostrophe to the 'I'm' in the first half of the message, but then didn't bother to correct misspelling 'but'?” Twilight murmurs. “I bet she just added that all in a rush before sending it. Like, she's really worried about me, but also really wants me to show up...”

“Possibly,” Celestia says, carefully. “When I was your age we overanalyzed people's feelings by seeing how many times they'd written, erased, and re-written each sentence. On paper. Like sensible human beings.”

Twilight snickers. “Don't be such an old lady.”

“Hmmph! Old lady...that's what I get for telling you about the motorcycle, I suppose,” Celestia concedes with a huff. Her playful expression fades a little as Twilight carefully tucks the phone back into her bag. “You're going out there, then?”

“She came,” Twilight says, watching Dash glare at a passing couple. “She didn't have to.”

“No, I suppose not.”

Twilight takes a deep breath before turning a firm look of determination on Celestia. “No promise it will end well, but...”

Celestia offers an open hand and smiles when Twilight eagerly grasps it. “No matter what happens, you'll survive.”

“Right,” Twilight says, with a determined nod.

For a moment, she seems like she's going to pull away and get to it, but something occurs to her and instead she brings her other hand up so that she's grasping Celestia's hand in both of hers.

“Thank you,” Twilight says, amethyst eyes shining with earnestness behind her glasses.

Celestia looks away for a moment, lips spreading into a mild grimace. “I'm not sure you should be thanking me—”

Twilight's grip grows tighter for a second,“For taking me seriously? For not being judgmental or condescending or telling me what to do? For being open with me? For being there?”

“I...” Celestia trails off, her expression half-irritable, half-amused. “I was trying to find the right way to say the same thing. You beat me to it.”

The two women share a long, fond smile.

Last night was...special.

That was the only way they could put it that seemed to get it close to right.

But now that night was over and it was time to move on.

“Look, just be thanked, okay?” Twilight says, grinning.

Celestia chuckles. “Okay.”

Twilight squeezes the older woman's hand once more before turning in her seat and getting out of the car.

The storm hadn't broken until the early morning, and the sunrise was struggling to poke out through heavy, grey clouds; but the air is still heavy with the refreshing smell of the earth and rain. Both Twilight and Celestia take deep, calming breaths, each smiling as the revitalizing scent fills their lungs.

Rainbow Dash notices Twilight standing at the open car door and suddenly scrambles upright, trying to seem composed and alert. Celestia notices that Twilight is gripping the edge of the door tightly.

“You know how to get in touch with me if I can help,” she says, in a cool, calming voice.. “Remember: Don’t try to make her say anything. Just make it clear she’s safe, and that you care, and she’ll come to you.”

“Uh huh,” Twilight murmurs. The young woman forces herself to let go of her death grip on the door and prepares shut it, giving Celestia one last little stressed smile. “I'll see you next Friday, right? For coffee?”

“Don't keep her waiting, Twilight!” Celestia says with a laugh, shooing Twilight with her hand. “Good luck.”

“Thanks,” Twilight repeats, and with that, shuts the door.

Celestia watches her cautiously approach Rainbow Dash, who tries her hardest not to seem skittish and nervous by feigning an outrageous amount of cool. Their voices don't carry into the car, but from the way Dash grows progressively less and less magnetically attached to her bike, Celestia has an idea that Twilight's doing pretty well so far.

She closes her eyes and leans back in the seat, sighing.

Well...good for her.

But the real question is what I'm going to do with myself now that she’s all set up—

A tinny, unpleasant tune sounds from the console between the seats, and without looking Celestia grabs her phone and answers the call before her teeth go completely on edge.

“Hello—”

“She's a bit young, don't you think?”

Celestia's eyes slam open. “Luna!”

Awkwardly, she rolls in the seat to scan her surroundings.

“Across the street, sister.”

Celestia turns away from the two young women, who were now in the 'a few feet apart but arms-crossed' defensive stage of their reunion, to the looming red-brick bulk of the Studio Arts building that stood across the street from Twilight's dormitory. A slim, pale woman in a slightly less-than-professional dress and a black blazer gives her a little wave, her blue hair swaying in the breeze.

She frowns. “Luna, what are you doing here...?”

The figure shrugs. “I got to your house just as you were leaving, so I followed you. Spike told me you had a girlfriend over, so I was—”

“Being nosy,” Celestia says, flatly.

“Curious,” Luna continues, not skipping a beat. “You must not be much fun if she's already fleeing into the arms of another woman. Although I have to say, that girl she's with reminds me of you around...what, sophomore year of college? Give her a mohawk and stick a cigarette in her mouth and you could be twins.”

“Hilarious.”

Luna laughs brightly, sharp enough that Celestia winces away from the phone. “Aw, don't be that way. I liked the 'hawk. Can't say I miss the smoking, though.”

“I swear, I smoke once at a party and you never shut up about it. It was a look.” Celestia slumps in her seat, taking a few calming breaths. “Was there a point to this or are you just here to tease me?”

“Am I ever not teasing you?”

“Luna...”

The younger sister leans back against a guardrail on the stairs to the arts building. Celestia can't see her face clearly, but there's something about the texture of the pause that suggests a much more serious expression is spread on it than had been a moment earlier.

“Spike seemed to think you were having a date with this girl—that's Twilight Sparkle, right? The one you have coffee with? Made her dinner and everything.”

Celestia rolls her eyes. With Luna, serious was a relative term.

“Yes, that's her,” she says.

There's a long pause.

“Luna, be serious—”

Luna's voice is a little strained and uncomfortable, treading the familiar but unpleasant ground of checking up on her big sister. “Look, Spike was pretty sure—”

“Spike is eight years old, Luna.”

“All that means is he doesn't know how to fudge the truth properly yet,” Luna cuts in. “He also said you seemed really depressed this week. You asked me, yourself, to keep an eye on you if you seemed upset—just like you do for me, right?”

Celestia just licks her lips. She had, in fact, said those words and meant them.

After a while, Luna says: “Do we have anything to worry about?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

Celestia raises an eyebrow. “That was easy...”

“Believe it or not, I do trust you to be honest with yourself, Celestia,” Luna says, a bit bitterly. “And if something did happen between the two of you, I know very well she would have had to yank the closet door open and go looking for you in there, so it was probably one of those probably-healthy-overall-but-still-slightly-weird bonding things, like in The Vagina Monologues or whatever...”

There's a dangerous moment of indecision.

What the hell. Being open with people has been working out, lately.

Celestia closes her eyes and braces herself, knowing Luna’s apparently gracious invitation to be a little bit of a trap. She was like that.

“It was.”

“Oh, damn it, Celestia, she's a st—mmmnnrrghh...!”

Celestia finds herself mildly grateful that Luna manages to stop herself before directly incriminating her sister out loud in public, scarce as foot traffic was at this hour on a Saturday.

“I know.”

Luna doesn't reply for some time.

“Yes, you do, don't you,” she says, eventually, resignation to the reality of the situation dripping off her words. Celestia glances back over to her and sees Luna rubbing her eyes irritably with her free hand—another late night, it seemed. “Look, whatever happened—it's over, right?”

“It never really began, as such.”

“It just happened? Something like that?”

A little spark of malicious glee flares in Celestia for a moment. She even manages a faint smirk. “Of all people I know you can sympathize with things just happening, Luna.”

“Hey. Watch it. I'm not the one getting herself in trouble here.”

There really is something to teasing, Celestia thinks. “Not right this second, no. But I'm allowed a turn, surely.”

“Ha, ha, very cute,” Luna says, in a tone of voice that makes it clear that she appreciates a little back and forth but we are done now, thank you very much. Accordingly, she takes the opportunity to change the subject. “Speaking of things we take turns doing, I had an appointment with Cadence yesterday.”

Celestia stiffens. “Oh? How did it go?”

“Oh, fine, fine. But she tells me you haven't been in to see her in almost three months.”

“So much for doctor-patient confidentiality.”

Luna shrugs theatrically.

Celestia sighs, cursing the therapist for being so insufferably concerned for her patient's welfare. It was as if she cared about them or something. “It's been busy lately. Conference season and so on, Luna, you know that...”

The pitiful excuse withers and dies in the long silence that followed.

“Look, it's just...” Celestia trails off, pinching the bridge of her nose. Eventually she throws her head back, sighing irritably. “She wants me to take mood-altering drugs. I'm not comfortable with that.”

Luna sniffs. “Because I'm so much worse off now than I was before I started on Harmonia. I used to so enjoy swinging from mad, cackling glee to furious anger to depression four or five times a month. There's worse things than needing a little help with your mood—”

“I don't need drugs, Luna.”

“Well if you think what you need is a steady diet of coeds, I've got some bad news for you,” Luna replies, with a thick heap of snark. “I mean, I’m happy to see you with a woman after all this time, but I don’t want you to get yourself in hot water...”

Celestia says nothing.

“Look, I just want to talk.Sometime soon,” Luna says—a bit plaintively, truth be told. “I'm worried about you.”

A little ways off in the distance, Rainbow Dash is hugging herself and looking away from Twilight, talking at some length. Celestia sees Twilight toss her a nervous glance, and smiles despite herself, showing Twilight a firm fist of solidarity. She is cheered to see the young woman perk up a little and turn back to Dash.

Go! Hug her—there you go...

Talk things out.

Celestia sighs helplessly through a vague smile. She'd better practice what she preaches, or coffee with Twilight on Friday would be tremendously uncomfortable.

She turns back to Luna. “Get in the car.”

Her sister visibly flinches, surprised. “What—now?”

“Why not?” Celestia says, smiling at the figures of Twilight Sparkle and Rainbow Dash as they vanish into the dormitory. “For one reason or another, I'm feeling a bit young right now. It'll be like old times. You, me, and a car...and we'll see where we end up.”

As she pulls out of the space in front of the dorm, her sister in the next seat looking a little off-balance, the sun breaks through the heavy clouds at last. It looks like it might be a pretty nice day after all.