Bluefeather was awake at seven the next morning, as was her routine. It was only after she was awake and sat up on the bed in Cyclone’s spare room that she realised that she wasn’t in her house, she wasn’t in Cloudhatten and she didn’t have to go to work. With those realisations, as she got out of bed and cleaned herself and Mr. Pointy, came the sobering thought that today was the viewing of Cyclone’s mother.

One rather cold and uncomfortable shower later – she also then realised that the water in Cyclone’s cloud house was not heated – she laundered the clothes they had worn the day before and she went on to make breakfast for herself. As she knew today was going to be a tough one, she decided to start it off right. One large bowl of muesli later, and she started to prepare her marefriend’s breakfast.

Seeing as today was going to be hard, on them all, she made her mind up that Cyclone was getting mango mash. When she looked at the clock and saw that it was already ten minutes to ten, Bluefeather decided that her partner had slept long enough. Any longer would be a waste of the day, and they had a lot to get through today. They wouldn’t do that if Cyclone was in bed. Trotting up the stairs into the foal bedroom she approached the crib, where the jet black pegasus was sleeping, snoring away with a contented smile on her face and a full nappy around her behind.

Smiling, the mid grey mare tip-hooved across the bedroom floor, she smiled for she knew she didn’t need to be delicate, Cyclone was out like a light, even with a very, very smelly behind. Nappy check complete, she gathered together what she needed to change her lover and lowered the crib side down. “Rise and shine, little Cy. Time to get up.”

Very slowly, Cyclone cracked open her blue eyes, yawning as she gradually woke up. “Aww...” she murmured, sunlight steaming through her window and hitting her face. She wanted to go back to sleep, but a second later she breathed through her nose and smelled herself. That did it. “I-I was driving Thomas...”

Bluefeather smiled, kneeling by the crib. She wasn’t put off by the smell of the small sewage plant coming from her lover’s nappy in the slightest. “Did you go far, sweetie?”

“We went all around Sodor,” Cyclone explained, recalling her dream where she had been driving the tank engine along the tracks. “You and the Power Ponies were in the carriages.”

“Well, you are a very important engineer so they would only ride on your train.”

Cyclone smiled at that, especially as more of her dream came back to her. “You were in the best carriage though.”

But of course she was in the best carriage, why wouldn’t she be? “Yes, the one with the champagne and artichoke hearts. I expect no less.”

Realising she couldn’t put off the inevitable any more, and that there was absolutely zero chance of getting back to sleep, Cyclone slid out of the crib and laid down on the bedroom floor. “You know it, Blue.” she said, only just then remembering what she had to do today. Her smile faltered.

Bluefeather, quickly and professionally taking care of the much-needed nappy change, noticed the change in her lover’s demeanour. She knew what was behind it, she understood and she sympathised. Deep down, she was curious as to why Monsoon had left Cyclone when she had been just six years old, but she knew enough not to push. “I've had breakfast, but I have your favourite breakfast waiting for you downstairs.”

That went a long way to cheering her up. “Mango mash?” asked Cyclone, not daring to believe it, “in a Radiance bowl?” she clapped her hooves together hopefully.

“Did you sneak and peek in on me when I was making breakfast?” asked Bluefeather by way of reply, her own smile widening along with Cyclone’s own.

Earnestly, Cyclone shook her head. “No, honest,” she smiled, “I just guessed you'd pick the bestest Power Pony, that’s all.”

Chuckling, Bluefeather helped her young lover up to her four hooves. “Well, it seems you and Radiance are very close friends.” She affectionately nuzzled her marefriend’s cheek. “I didn't think the other very unused looking bowls would do.”

On her hooves, Cyclone wriggled her cleaned ass in her fresh clean nappy. “To be honest, they're just there to complete the set.”

“And here I thought they were Radiance's cheerleaders!” Bluefeather let out a little giggle, playfully she swatted her mare’s nappy covered flank. “Out you go, and to the high chair for breakfast with you.” Her giggle only intensified when Cyclone hopped up to kiss her nose and, needing no further encouragement, she scooted down the stairs and through the living room, over to the high chair in the kitchen. Bluefeather followed at a far more sedate pace, ready to do the feeding, unless of course, she claimed to be a big filly.

In the kitchen, Cyclone fluttered her wings and hovered, albeit clumsily, into the high chair and looked at the bowl of steaming hot mango mash. “Um, can you do it, nanna?”

“Do what?” asked Bluefeather, at last appearing in the kitchen.

“Can you feed me...um, pwease?”

“Of course I will.”

“Taaaa nanna!” Cyclone squeaked, opening her mouth wide and banging her hooves on the high chair’s table. It wasn’t that she couldn’t feed herself, it wasn’t that she wasn’t a big filly, she just wanted to hang onto her persona for a little bit longer.

As Bluefeather performed some dodgy manoeuvres with the spoon before it arrived in her mouth, the hope was that the longer she was a filly, the longer it would be before she had to view her mother’s body, because viewing would make it real. And when it was real, Cyclone wouldn’t be able to pretend her mother was still alive.

“Who's the hungry little filly?” Bluefeather asked playfully as she sent the airship full of mash into the hanger of Cyclone’s mouth. A second spoonful followed the first, the black pony sucking this one clean like the first.

“I’mma hungwy filly!” Cyclone squeaked, lunging forwards for the loaded spoon. As it turned out it was a near miss, most of the mango mash found its way into her mouth but some spattered onto her chin. As ever, Bluefeather was quick with a napkin held in her wing to wipe her foal’s mouth. “I gots it!” Cyclone giggled playfully while her nanna continued to make a game of feeding her with the napkin ever ready.

Cyclone was only too eager to play along, eating her mash like the big filly she was. She really did not want to grow up today. Not today. “We's good at dis!”

Bluefeather smiled a very motherly smile as they finished off the bowl of mash together. “You are a super smart pony!”

“I is a smart filly!” playfully, Cyclone booped her nanna’s nose with her hoof, giggling brightly, wishing as she did so that this game could last forever. “And you's a clever nanna!”

Almost like she had a sixth sense, Bluefeather knew what Cyclone was trying to do. Sadly, she also knew she couldn’t let it continue. Diversion was one thing, avoidance was quite another. One she could allow, the other she couldn’t countenance. Very gently, Bluefeather nuzzled the black mare’s cheek. “Cyclone, the movers will be here soon.”

“Ugh...” Cyclone grunted as her marefriend whispered in her ear. It wasn’t a sexy times whisper either. “I guess I gotta 'adult'.” She smiled sadly, knowing she couldn’t hold back the turn of the day any more than she could hold back the tides. “Fine, I can do that.”

“No, you don't,” Bluefeather affectionately kissed Cyclone’s lips, “but then I have to make sure my foal doesn't get in the way.”

“Naaah, it's cool, I'll grow up.” Cyclone was enough of a grown mare to realise she couldn’t outrun life, no matter how hard she tried, and she’d tried pretty damn hard. As a reward for her decision, Bluefeather kissed her once more on the mouth, this one she let linger. “Hmmm…” Cyclone almost as a reflex had her hooves in her marefriend’s blue mane.

To complete the move to adult form, Bluefeather got Cyclone all cleaned up and, once the dishes had been washed, she lifted her out of the high chair. “Do you want to wear a sundress or go without a nappy?” asked the mid grey mare, “Or there is the third option. The movers can just deal with it.”

“Or I can just wear a nappy around the house, like you said they can deal with it.” Cyclone responded with a casual shrug of her shoulders. If she was honest, she didn’t give a single buck what the movers thought about her or her house. At the best of times she wouldn’t have cared, today she really didn’t care.

Approvingly, Bluefeather nodded, admiring as she did so the pink nappy on Cyclone’s hindquarters. “I sort of like that option. Let me get the laundry out of the dryer and we’ll check the four boxes are all packed with everything you want to take back.” she said, moving automatically to empty the dryer.

“Coolness.” Cyclone commented and, once she had rolled onto her hooves, she stood up and gave the four large boxes currently occupying the battered pink playpen in her living room a once over. “Do you want an ice tea making after we've done that, sexy?”

“That would be nice, thank you.” Bluefeather called from the dryer in the kitchen.

As she carefully inspected the boxes to make sure she hadn’t left anything important, like a figurine or a comic book, Cyclone did notice that Bluefeather had also cleaned up the living room as well as everything from the night before. Most likely while she had slept. “Thanks, for cleaning up, babes.”

“It's my thing,” Bluefeather replied casually, “and I don't see that changing anytime soon.”

“That's cool,” commented Cyclone, ferreting a couple of errant comics from underneath the couch that had seen better days and adding them to one of the boxes. Other than that, she was happy all her precious figures were safely packed. “One of us has to be the sensible adult in this relationship.”

“True, but don't think I'll not have you doing chores if you're a messy filly.”

Cyclone rubbed her forelegs together, feeling a teeny bit like she was being judged. “I'm not ~suuuper~ messy…”

“Didn’t say you were, just that you might. After all,” Bluefeather said as she folded the freshly laundered clothes, “regardless of what you said, this place was in good shape when we arrived.” ‘Shame the same can’t be said for the rest of the street,’ she thought, thinking of the two derelict cloud houses as well as those three that had actually crumbled to ruins.

Cyclone smiled as she went to prepare the ice tea. “The reason this place isn’t so bad is because I do my own repairs,” she waved her hoof to the kitchen ceiling, indicating said repairs. “Plus, I thought I'd over-exaggerate the mess, in case it was messier than I remembered. Besides which,” she said as she got the cups and the kettle boiled, “these lower rent suburbs really are prone to cloud quakes. The architects don't maintain them as much as the upmarket areas.”

Bluefeather cast a quick glance about, and her sharp eyes picked upon the repaired sections of the walls, “I'm sure you'll get used to a stable cloud home, in time.”

As she poured the tea, Cyclone giggled at the very thought of that. “Wow...imagine one that doesn't shake at least twice every week,” she was being absolutely serious as she set Bluefeather’s tea and her coffee on a tray and carried it through to the living room coffee table. After so long, she didn’t know how she’d manage in a non-quaking house.

Bluefeather laughed as she sat on the less threadbare part of the couch. “I'll just shake your crib twice a week for your comfort.”

Cyclone laughed along with her older marefriend as she too sat down, once the tray had been set down. “Why, thank you, love.” She then snuggled up to her on the couch. “I think you've earned that tea.”

“I'll drink to that.” Bluefeather agreed, wrapping her wing around her lover’s shoulder.

“For the awesomely applied distraction job you've done over the past couple of days.”

Bluefeather tensed a teeny bit at that, having been openly called out on her tactics. “I love you, Cyclone, a lot, and I hope you don't think I'm being manipulative, but I don't want to see you spiral down the well.”

“Not at all, sexy.” Cyclone squeezed Bluefeather’s barrel. She wasn’t that oblivious that she couldn’t see that she had been manipulated a tiny bit, probably a big bit, but she didn’t mind that much. “I'd have been a complete mess without you.” She knew the truth of herself, then, a thought occurred to her. “Hey, you wanna see an old photo real quick?”

“Old, is it a foal picture of you?” Bluefeather asked, her ears perking up as her interest was piqued. “That I'd truly love to see.”

“Oh, you'll see.” Getting out of her lover’s embrace, an act that allowed the older mare to sip her tea, Cyclone scooted up and dived head first into the box that was for paperwork and, after a second of searching, she pulled out an old photo album. “Here we go!”

Though she was very curious indeed, Bluefeather had to fight the urge to rip the album from Cyclone’s hooves. She instead allowed the young pony to hold the album so that she could look at the pictures as she opened it and turned the pages. “Aah...” she pointed to an old picture of a young black pegasus. “That’s me aged like, when I was two or something…here,” she found another, a little older, “still looking super cute....and oh!” she turned the page, where there was a picture of an old kitchen area and a three year old Cyclone covered in mud with hoof prints all over the table, lino and the fridge.

Bluefeather studied the picture closely, particularly noting the proud happy look on the little filly’s face, sat as she was on the mud covered table. “Such a messy filly you are.”

With a wry smile, Cyclone noted the use of ‘are’ rather than ‘were’, “Well, guilty as charged, I guess.” She grinned, turning a couple more pages of the photo album. “Oooh! Here's one of mom and dad and me, look!” she pointed out a picture of herself, looking about five, standing in front of and between a brown unicorn mare and a pegasus stallion as black as Cyclone was. “That was a holiday, um…Las Pegasus, or was it Horseshoe Bay? I can’t remember.” Listening, observant, Bluefeather paid very careful attention to the inflection of Cyclone’s voice as she continued to describe the picture. She noted straightaway she was a little sad, a little melancholy. “Oh! I remember, we went to the crystal empire...I think I was four, maybe five? Something like that.”

Bluefeather looked hard at the picture, particularly Monsoon. She had to admit the brown unicorn was very, very attractive. “She was a beautiful mare,” she commented eventually, once she had committed the picture to memory. “Just like her daughter. She could have been a model too, I think.” She kissed Cyclone’s cheek. “Just like you plan to be.”

Cyclone found she was stroking the picture, almost caressing it. “She was pretty, right?” the question was a rhetorical one. Monsoon was a very, very beautiful unicorn, graceful and elegant. “I don't know if she ever worked for dad, he never mentioned her after the split.”

“Sometimes you need to put things behind you that keep the old wounds open.” Bluefeather commented, trying to guess what the pretty smiling mare was thinking when the picture was taken. “If it is of any interest to you, I have photo albums of all the foals I've cared for. You may find a familiar face in my newest album.”

“That I'd love to see, hun.” Cyclone smiled, though she didn’t look away from the picture of her mother and father, it was a way happier time. She frowned, just a little. “I got my fear of heights there too, so thanks mom, for that present.”

Bluefeather gave her a sceptical look. “A ground based unicorn gave you a fear for heights?”

‘An understandable question,’ Cyclone thought, and she took a deep breath before she spoke next. “We had a top floor hotel apartment. Penthouse. Dad never settled for less than the best. Mom and I were playing a game.” If Cyclone’s voice was sad before, it was heart-breaking now. “She’d levitate me, so I was ‘flying’. I was never a strong flyer, and I loved that game. Anyway, she was levitating me around the room and somehow, I went out of the window. I was outside, on the thirtieth floor or whatever it was, just when she lost control of the spell and I fell. It was super high up and I panicked. I forgot I had wings. I fell like a brick.”

All through the explanation, Bluefeather had remained silent, just offering a hug as and when required. Now, when Cyclone went quiet, she raised an eyebrow. “And, you're here with me today because?” Not that she wasn’t glad she was here, she was just curious.

“Tropical Storm.” Cyclone responded sombrely, “My dad flew out of the apartment window and caught me, like ten feet away from being a smear and a memory.”

Bluefeather nodded, this at least explained why she didn’t like going up higher than ten feet. Under the circumstances, she doubted she’d be the same, had she been the one to fall almost three hundred feet. “Did you have to listen to them argue over it after that?” she asked kindly, though she already kind of knew the answer.

“How did you guess?” Cyclone nodded, laughing mirthlessly. “I heard them, for days and days and days.”

“Adults do that, and they forget who is listening.”

Cyclone let out a very loud sniff, blinking back the hot wet tears that suddenly welled in her eyes. “Mom never wanted to play with me again, after that.”

“Did you always wonder why then,” Bluefeather asked gently as she hugged her lover tightly to her, “or did you figure it out early?”

“I kinda figured it out, though I stopped asking after a while.” Cyclone wiped her wet eyes and Bluefeather gestured at the album for her to continue, probably hoping that there would be happier memories to come. Thankfully, there were. “Oooh!” she gasped, turning the few pages to a picture of the 'gang' as she called them; Dusk, Brightstar, Darkstar, Wildfire and herself, all dressed in Las Pegasus casino clothes. Standing in pride of place in the middle, next to her, was Darkstar in a 'Lola' dress and feather boa. “This was when we were all eighteen, we ended up in Las Pegasus for a week.”

“That sounds like an adventure…” Bluefeather commented, thinking out loud, A whole week.” Then, she noticed something that didn’t seem quite ‘right’ about the photograph. Dusk and Brightstar were wearing waiter’s vests, Wildfire a waitress dress and Cyclone a cooks outfit. “But, those look like uniforms, yes?”

“Oh, yeah,” Cyclone laughed. They were all in uniform, except for Darkstar, in her dress. “You'll notice no nappy on me, either. We had to work for the money to get train tickets home...or so we thought, anyway.”

Now, the innate gossip that lived inside Bluefeather reared its head, sensing a story. “Did you gamble all of your bits away?”

Snickering, Cyclone shook her head. “No, what happened was, Darkie lost a bet to Luna, something about who could drink the most moonshine. The forfeit was we spend the week somewhere 'remote'. Of course, Luna supplied Darkie with tickets to get back in case anything went south, she just…‘forgot’ to mention that bit to the rest of us.”

Bluefeather laughed, she laughed out loud at that, finding the whole thing highly hilarious. “I do hope you've forgiven her after all this time. I'm a bit surprised, what with the Prince in your group he didn't just commandeer a train to take you home.”

Cyclone too laughed, she couldn’t help it, her marefriend’s mirth was infectious. “Oh...we forgave her on the way home. Darkie always was a prankster, and it was an adventure.” She did feel the need though to explain something to the older mare. “Aaaah well, Dusky was never one for the whole 'I’m-royalty-I-can-do-what-I-like' thing,” she then turned the page to the photograph of the whole group, which now included Air Raid and Slingshot, taken in the booth at the funfair. “Aaah...this one was one of the last ones we had as a group, before everything went to Tartarus.”

“Life has a way of doing that.” Bluefeather commented, referring to everything going to Tartarus. Then, she snickered, somewhat conspiratorially, “If you ask Lance, he'll tell you I toss my weight around at the weather factory without a second thought.”

“Stallion...I mean, mare, of the ponies, is our Dusk.” Cyclone giggled behind her hoof. “You, my love, you throw about your weight? I'd have never believed it! The funfair was my first attempt at wearing a nappy,” she pointed out the rather obvious padded bulge at her hindquarters under the dress she was wearing in the picture.

“First?” Bluefeather questioned, “So was it because of a dare?”

Cyclone nodded, smiling wryly. “That's right. Did it too, under that red dress. Then I got to like it, like, really like it. It wasn't long after this that Wily got blinded and I did the whole potions thing.”

Now Bluefeather did give voice to something that had been on her mind for a couple of days now, regarding the potions and their lasting effects upon her person. “And, you've never followed up to see if the potion maker would have a cure for you?” she asked, eyebrow raised, “You do know that even if you didn't physically need a nappy, there is no reason to not have or use a nappy?”

“I know babes,” Cyclone admitted with a very deep, uncharacteristic sigh, “but after I made it through the six week rehab here in Cloudsdale I didn't want to go back, just in case I wasn't strong enough to not get them again.” Plus, going back meant braving the Everfree Forest, and there were bugs in the Everfree Forest. Cyclone hated bugs, almost as much as she hated heights.

A six week rehabilitation was nothing to sneeze at, nor was it something to take lightly. Again, Bluefeather was impressed with her young lover. Just as she was formulating a mental plan to get Cyclone to go back to Ponyville and to the potion seller, the doorbell rang. “Well,” she said, snapped out of her planning mode, “It’s time to empty this place.”

“Yep!” with that, she fluttered off of the couch, landing on her hooves as the doorbell rang a second time. “It's time. I got this, Blue.” She trotted through to the kitchen and to the door. “Hey guys, come on in.”

A bright sun yellow stallion in work overalls greeted her with a flash of his “Rainboom Removals” ID badge. “Hello, I'm Day Time and this is my brother Night Time.” He indicated a dark blue stallion stood by his side. “You're Cyclone?”

“Yep, that's me, Cyclone.” Looking at the two stallions, she once again checked their ID badges, trying for all she was worth to not think of them as a gender bent Celestia and Luna. They probably got that ALL the time. She couldn’t see their cutie marks thanks to the overalls, but she would have bet her last bit one was a sun, the other a crescent moon. “You're at the right place.”

Day Time nodded to his brother as they followed Cyclone into her kitchen. Professionally he ignored the nappy she wore. “Okay, we need to do a quick look through and verify we have all the packing material we need. Are the appliances going or staying?”

Cyclone didn’t bother to look at her second-hoof kettle, microwave and her third-hoof sandwich maker. The bottle steriliser was already packed, as was the bottles. “These appliances are staying,” she waved her hoof at the worktops. “Important things are the four boxes in the playpen, the playpen itself, the crib and the display cases.”

Day Time, like his brother, was making notes on a pad, he nodded. “Looks like we have what we need for this job. Let’s get moving, Night. Pardon us, but it might be best if you did lunch or something while we move. I'd say we'll be good in an hour for you to sign us off.”

Cyclone liked that idea, a lot. “Whaddaya think Blue, lunch sound good to you?”

Bluefeather nodded in a heartbeat. After their emotionally fraught morning, she was ready to eat. “Lunch always sounds good to me. Oat burger?”

“You read my mind!”

“A true challenge, indeed!” Bluefeather smiled good naturedly to the two stallions as they began their work, making sure she had her bit purse on her before heading out of the open door.

“Meaning?” asked Cyclone, who stuck out her tongue and affected a really convincing outraged look, until she giggled and ruined the effect. Taking up her phone and her own bit purse, she followed her marefriend out into the morning. Usually sunny, today, almost matching her underlying mood, the sky was grey and filled with dark grey storm clouds.

Bluefeather giggled, her smile brightening up the dark foreboding clouds that hung in the sky. Even Cloudsdale itself, usually white, was an ominous leaden grey. “Could mean many things. Maybe I just love you enough to know your thoughts. Maybe the number of Oat burger wrappers in your trash can gave me a clue. You may never know…” still giggling, she turned and walked down Cyclone’s street.

As she cantered past the houses that were nothing but crumbled ruins, Cyclone giggled, in spite of the very maudlin surroundings. It was as if the sky itself was aware of the tragedy in Cyclone’s life and was acting accordingly. “Guilty as charged, love.” She draped a wing over Bluefeather’s back and was very grateful to get one in return draped over hers. “Onwards! To glorious food then, my lady.”

~ ~ ~

“Cyclone…” after a brief lunch, which had been a most subdued affair, and the quietest lunch that Bluefeather had shared with the young pegasus, they had ordered the sky taxi to take them to Canterlot, in which they were now sat. Bluefeather had tried to start a conversation already, only to be ignored. Falling back on her caretaking instincts, she draped a grey wing around her shoulders. “You can do this, Cy.”

On the sky taxi’s wide seat, Cyclone nestled into her marefriend’s side, taking care to not wrinkle the perfect cream sundress she wore – that she had to wear in Canterlot, to cover up her cutie marks. There was no being a foal in Canterlot. “Blue, I don't know...” she tapped her forehooves together nervously.

“Just because you're an adult doesn't mean you have to be the responsible adult.” Said Bluefeather as the cab lurched into motion, taking off into the heavily leaden skies. So dark was it outside due to the storm clouds that the driver had to turn on the interior lights.

Cyclone, studying her hind hooves and the floor of the taxi itself, still didn’t look up. “I dunno what to feel, Blue!” she exclaimed, she was frustrated, mostly that she had no outlet for her frustration. She wanted to scream, to cry, to shout, and to run away…what she really wanted was her mom back, but that was impossible. “I-I spent so many years hating Mons...mom...I don’t know!”

Bluefeather felt a huge pang of sympathy for her young lover. She could only imagine what today was like for her. “While that may be, she is no longer worthy of your hate, and if not your love, at least grant her your pity.” She paused for breath, “As for me, she brought you into the world, and I'm calling that a good thing.” She kissed Cyclone’s cheek, tasting the ghost of her tears there on her fur. “Sure life could have been better, but if it was would we be sharing a cab right now?”

“I…” Cyclone sighed, “I can't hate her Blue...I love her, of course I love her.” She let out a louder, longer sigh. “Whatever she did in the past, she didn't deserve to go like that.” Nopony deserved to die alone of an opium overdose and lay undiscovered in a grubby motel shed.

Bluefeather nodded solemnly, not letting up on the feathery hug around Cyclone’s shoulders. “But for the grace of Celestia there go I. Whatever demons had been chasing her are gone now.”

In spite of her downcast mood, Cyclone laughed, though her laugh was dark and hollow, like the thunderous sky outside. “Ha, now you sound all poetic, like Wily.” She wiped her eyes, brushing away tears that threatened to leak down her cheeks. “Do um, do you think she's happy now?”

“I honestly don't know. I haven't given a lot of thought to the afterlife. I do know there is no more pain or sorrow.

“When Buffy died the second time, she went to a heavenly dimension...I um...I like to think my mom's gone somewhere very similar…” this time, Cyclone didn’t bother to brush away her tears. She dearly hoped wherever Monsoon was, she was at peace, and happy, and safe.

“Then hold that thought,” Bluefeather said supportively, squeezing her powerful wing around her marefriend’s shuddering shoulders. “Sometime down the road you can ask her yourself.”

“She deserves to be happy!” with that exclamation, Cyclone began crying, her words barely making it through her sobs. “I-I just wish I-I co-could've told her how m-much I lo-love her!”

Bluefeather’s hug was so tight now that she feared for her lover’s ability to breathe. She was very grateful of the taxi driver’s professionalism. He drove ever downwards through the stormy sky without comment. “Ponies make choices. Not all of those choices are good ones. It is hard to tell somepony you love them if they aren't there to be told.”

“Yeah…Yeah I know. Well,” she whimpered, weeping so hard she didn’t – and indeed, hadn’t – noticed that the window covers were up, and had been up throughout the flight thus far. She really didn’t care. “I guess I'll get my chance soon, huh?”

Bluefeather showed no signs of letting go of the hug, though she did loosen her hold just a little. “Tell her everything love, don't hold anything back, but don't let anger take hold of you, either.”

Likewise, Cyclone held her marefriend tight in her hooves. She wasn’t thinking about the cream sundress anymore. “I just want her to know, I forgive her, for everything.”

“There is another pony that really needs to hear what you have to say to her.”

“Yeah...I um...I just hope my dad listens.”

“I guess that will be up to you then.” Bluefeather gave her measured, considered comment. She did have the benefit of looking at things from a third pony’s perspective. “Both of you need to talk about Monsoon. I don't think you and your dad have been very close either over these last few years, am I right?”

Cyclone shook her head miserably. Bluefeather was so right it was scary. “N-No...besides birthdays and Hearths Warmings, I've seen as much of my dad as I have of my mom.”

‘I thought as much,’ Bluefeather thought, though being right didn’t bring any satisfaction. She just had the benefit of being outside looking in. “Well, this I know for sure. I'm with you. If need be I'll protect you, but you do need to take a stand in this, Cy.”

Cyclone nodded, hot salty tears starting to leave tracks on her black fur as they left her blue eyes. “Y-You're right hun, and I will. T-Take a stand. Definitely.”

As the sky taxi continued to descend towards Canterlot, the weather grew steadily worse. Nearer the mountain they got, the storm clouds grew bigger, darker, more ominous and foreboding. The sky itself was so grey it was almost black as night. Bluefeather had fallen quiet, content to cuddle her weeping lover.

Cyclone though, didn’t want to be quiet.

Quiet meant thinking, and she didn’t want to think too much right then. “Blue, what was it like for you, when yours passed?”

Bluefeather had been expecting some kind of question, and she was prepared. “Good. It was good that I have siblings that gave them grandfoals.” She giggled, “Dad went first, but he lived life hard. Wasn't a big surprise, but it was really quick. Mom lasted another eight years, and never did stop asking when I was going to give her a grandfoal. It was hard though. My brother moved in with her for the last six months. She really missed dad, and I think she just got tired of living without him.”

Bluefeather sighed, but it wasn’t a sad sigh, more a contented, happy sigh. “Dad is the reason I've made it so far as a weather pony. He did drive me hard, but he was fair. I said that at his funeral. Mom though, I do miss her nagging.”

“You miss her nagging you for that foal?” asked Cyclone, giggling sadly, “I miss playing with my mom. I loved her games when I was a foal,” as she spoke she thought back to all the times they played the levitating game. She had really loved that game.

“I'm just the nanna,” Bluefeather smiled, “but I can do games.”

“You're an awesome nanna.” Cyclone smiled, though the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. It felt as artificial as it looked. “I hope she knew, I mean, I want her to know, I never blamed her for the accident.”

Now, at that, Bluefeather certainly was surprised. “You don't?”

Cyclone shrugged, still looking at the floor of the taxi. She hadn’t actually looked up at all yet during the whole journey. “It was an accident. I mean, I highly doubt she threw me out the thirty floor on purpose.”

“But you did?” Bluefeather pressed, albeit gently. “You did blame her at some point, didn’t you?”

Cyclone nodded sadly, unaware that the sky taxi had entered the Canterlot City Airspace. “Tropical Storm, my dad...he, he said some horrible things to her when they thought I wasn't listening.”

Bluefeather, who was sat up and looking out of the windows, saw the royal palace in the distance as they flew over the frankly magnificent capital city. For a moment she found it hard to believe her marefriend had been able to come and go from there as she pleased, at one point. “Fear can lead us to doing the wrong thing, Cyclone.”

Cyclone nodded, sadly. “You see, some of what he accused her of sunk in a bit, made me wonder for a while, but the older I got I realised that it was just a dumb accident…” the jet black mare sighed, almost seeming to deflate, like a balloon. “Of course, by the time I figured that out, she had been long gone.”

“Sounds like one more thing that both of them need to hear.”

“Yeah,” Cyclone sniffled, “and he'd better take notice. He's gotta let it go, Blue.”

“Sounds like a song cue.”

“I am definitely not drunk enough to sing!” Cyclone giggled, regardless of her mood, the thought of her singing was always funny. Grateful that her lover had her humour in there somewhere, no matter how deeply buried, Bluefeather continued to hold her tight. Cyclone however went quiet until the taxi landed at the ornate wrought iron gates of the Canterlot Residential District Cemetery.

“We still have a lot to do,” said Bluefeather, ignoring the overcast storm clouds and the slate grey sky as they both got out of the sky taxi and the older mare paid the driver, making sure to leave him a very generous tip. Turning her back to the vehicle, she surveyed the huge graveyard. It was old, obviously, and it had its own kind of beauty that quiet places just had. “I'm here with you, all the way. This is a part of Canterlot I've never been to, though.”

“The Residential District Cemetery.” Cyclone waved her hoof at the iron gates. She shivered now, a brisk breeze had picked up, a sure sign that a storm was coming – as if the huge black storm clouds weren’t enough of an indication – idly she wondered what level of storm was coming, which was big enough to envelop Cloudsdale, Canterlot and Ponyville. If she was any kind of weather mare she would know by the very feel, but she didn’t care. “We used to hang out here most weekends,” she pointed her hoof over in a vague direction. “Wily's mum's over there, not cos we had a graveyard fetish or anything.”

Bluefeather tried, and utterly failed, to hide her wide smile. “I didn't say anything was wrong with it, did I?” She was more than willing to have sex in a graveyard. She had done before and she was sure she would do again. “In Manehatten, they do these goth parties in graveyards. I've attended a few.”

Now, Cyclone’s smile was a genuine one. Or, as close to genuine as she felt at that moment. “It is fun to do it in a graveyard too…” she trailed off as she started to walk towards the house of rest situated not that far away. The building where her mother was waiting for her. “Or, anywhere outside, really.”

“Was it just you or the others in your group that like the thrill of being caught?” Bluefeather asked curiously, looking at the gravestones they passed from the gravel path.

“Definitely me.” Cyclone replied, the breeze now whipping her sundress around her legs as she walked alongside her older lover. “Brightstar the voyeur especially loved it. He used to hide and watch me pee.”

‘I love the sound of your friends,’ Bluefeather thought, many ideas for future fun running through her head. She filed those away in the ‘naughty’ section of her brain. “Those are the memories to hold onto,” she started as she held the door open for her to enter ahead of her. “Now, it is time to make new memories to replace those that you don't want to hold onto.”

Cyclone looked up at her with a faint smile on her face. “Yeah, thanks hun.”

A charcoal grey earth pony stallion in top hat and tails stood in the entry of the house of rest, as grey as the roiling sky outside, nodded to them both in a polite, well trained manner. “Greetings to you both, I'm Peace, are you here for the viewing of Monsoon?” he asked, his voice soft as a whisper.

Taking a very deep breath, her voice cracking with the strain of the occasion, Cyclone responded. “Ah, y-yea...um...yes, we are, thank you, sir.”

Again, Peace nodded, tipping his top hat to the young mare. “Please, follow me.” he indicated the open door to a room behind him, inside the house of rest. “There is a registry which you may sign at your convenience.” He held the door open and, inside the immaculately appointed and decorated room, was the black pegasus, Tropical Storm, whom Bluefeather recognised from the family photograph, along with an elderly couple of unicorns. All three were stood by a very ornate casket.

Tropical Storm looked up at them at the sound of their hooves clopping on the polished hardwood floor. The relief on his face was evident when he saw whom had entered. The elderly couple, who happened to be Monsoon’s parents – a coffee brown mare with a greying blue mane named Lemon Grass and a green stallion with a pure white mane named Earth Song – did not turn away from the open coffin. “Cyclone!” Tropical Storm cantered over quickly and wrapped his estranged daughter up in a hug.

“H-Hey...” Cyclone didn’t care that her dad’s pale blue beard tickled her, she didn’t care he was wearing the old and battered white panama hat that he always wore, she just cared that he was here, and he was hugging her. “Hey, dad.”

“Thank you for coming, Cy.” He have his daughter another tight hug before the late middle aged pegasus stallion looked over to Bluefeather who was maintaining a respectful distance from them. Lifting up a hoof, he tipped his hat to her. “And, you must be Bluefeather, her companion.”

Bluefeather nodded politely and held out her hoof for a bump, which he duly returned. “I sincerely wish we were meeting under better circumstances.” Had they been better, she would be getting him to autograph all her Playcolt and Playmare magazines, but there was time enough to come for that.

“Yeah...dad, this is Bluefeather.” At the very mention of her marefriend’s name, Cyclone smiled. “Of course we'd come...I'm uh...I’m sorry I wasn't there Thursday.” Her smile faded a little, ‘I was too busy jollying it up in Manehatten…’ she thought guiltily.

Tropical Storm waved his hoof dismissively in the air. “Water under the bridge. You're here now,” with that, he looked back at the ornately carved open casket. “Would ah, would you like to see her now?”

Cyclone nodded and, making sure to hold Bluefeather’s hoof with her own, she slowly, very slowly, approached the waiting coffin. “Yeah...I need to see mom, now.” She was extremely grateful she had Bluefeather on her left and her dad on her right. Otherwise she doubted she’d have the strength for this.

The three ponies stood by the edge, looking down at the sole occupant. Monsoon lay on her back, her forelegs placed over her waist pressing just a little into the white dress the body was dressed in. Cyclone looked down at what once been her mother. She could tell whomever had tended to her had done a good job, she looked every bit of the late forties she was, but she could tell the damage the opium had wrought on her face and body. She did however look at peace.

Seeing her laying there was too much. “Oh...oh m-mooom!” She couldn’t help it, the tears came and came, and they didn’t look like stopping as she broke into floods of tears.

Standing by her marefriend’s side, Bluefeather chose to say nothing, she just held Cyclone as she cried and cried. Following her example, Tropical Storm also remained by his daughter’s side, he placed a hoof on her heaving shoulder. “M-Mom...” Cyclone was crying so hard she was almost beyond reason, she could barely see as she stroked her mother’s expertly coiffured mane. “I-I love you!”

As Bluefeather still had a firm hold of her weeping lover, she noted Tropical Storm had a distinctly awkward look on his face, though he too kept his hoof where it was. “Let it all out, my love.”

“M-Mom...” Cyclone whimpered, leaning down over the edge of the casket and hugging her mother’s cold body. She had hoped, prayed even, that maybe this was a joke and she’d get up, and they’d be a family again, but the remains of the old brown unicorn laid unresponsive as Cyclone’s hot tears hit dead fur.

It was in that split second that the reality hit her like a Rainboom to the face. After long moments where she just cried, Cyclone eventually moved up and kissed her mother’s muzzle. “I-I-I missed you...” she tried to speak through sobs that wracked her shaking body. “I-I forgive you mom...always,” as she said that, Tropical Storm’s awkward look became very awkward indeed. Bluefeather noticed, but still she said nothing. She just held her distraught marefriend. “Y-You were always f-forgiven, mom, aaaalways!”

Lemon Grass and Earth Song come hobbling over, the unicorn stallion having to use a cane to aid him, while the mare had the clearest, bluest eyes that Bluefeather had ever seen. Lemon Grass cast a sad look down at her daughter laid in the casket. “She would be happy to know that, dear.”

“Th-thanks nanna,” Cyclone, still with wet cheeks from her tears, pulled herself away from Bluefeather and went to give her grandparents a teary hug. “H-Hey gramps...” she smiled at Earth Song, “this is Bluefeather, my marefriend.”

Lemon Grass smiled, her blue eyes sparkling, seemingly fifty years younger than the rest of her wrinkled body. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Take care of our grandfilly,” Earth Song smiled, performing a shaky bow with his bent forelegs.

Cyclone smiled through her tears. “She does, a lot, gramps,” she hugged him again, carefully this time. “How are you and nanna?”

“It isn't right, outliving your filly.” Lemon Grass said suddenly, looking back at the coffin. Like Cyclone, she didn’t want to look away. She wanted to absorb every second of this.

“Hush you,” said Earth Song over his shoulder to his old wife, before turning back to look at his granddaughter. “We're doing okay in the retirement community. You could visit us, you know.” He gently prodded Cyclone with the end of his cane, snickering as he did so.

“I...I do,” Cyclone stuttered, erupting in a huge blush that showed even against her black fur at being called out on that. It had been something like a few months since she’d seen her grandparents. That was her fault. “Um...kinda, I mean, I will…” she offered lamely.

“Not getting any younger, you know.” Lemon Grass giggled, eventually turning away from Monsoon and the casket. “I love using that line.”

Bluefeather smiled at the elderly couple, she really liked these two. They could be her own parents. “I'll see what I can do to get us there.”

Cyclone hated her nanna talking like that, though she always did. It was just the elderly unicorn’s sense of humour. “N-Nanna, d-don't say it like that!” she looked over the old unicorn mare’s shoulder at the open casket and wept again. She was surprised she had so many tears in her to shed. But she them she did. “Y-You know you'll outlive the P-Princesses, you always said that.”

“She does,” Earth Song nodded, casting a sideways glance at his wife, “and she just might, too.”

“As long as I outlast you,” Lemon Grass snarked back, jabbing her wrinkled foreleg into her husband’s ribs, “you'll never know if I do or not.”

“I like you two,” Bluefeather interjected. She really did too. She loved their gallows humour, the way they snarked with each other. “You’re nice and dark.”

Earth Song shrugged, almost falling over where it not for his cane. Last thing he wanted was to give his wife a cheap laugh. “At our age, ma’am, all you can do is laugh at death.”

“Yeah,” Lemon Grass snickered playfully, “It shames him into staying away.”

“Nanna!” Cyclone spluttered, not sure if she should chastise her errant grandparents, or if she even could, or if this was the time or place for any of this, then again right now she wasn’t sure of anything. “Did you um...speak to mom, before she um, y'know...” she couldn’t bring herself to say the words, she just pointed to the coffin.

“It was last year’s spring equinox when she last stopped by.” said Earth Song. He failed to mention the pathetic specimen of a pony his daughter came with. He wasn’t worth mentioning, the scum who had killed his filly.

“Yeah,” Lemon Grass added, also choosing decidedly not to mention the poor example of a stallion her daughter associated with. As easy going as she was, the old unicorn sincerely hoped He burned in Tartarus for what he did to her filly. “She telephoned us every couple of weeks.”

“Was um...was she, was mom...happy?” asked Cyclone hesitantly, still looking at the casket, ignoring the somewhat darker looks that had come over her grandparent’s faces.

Earth Song shook his head, clearing all thoughts of Red Light from his mind. If the police reports were to be believed, the scum had been arrested. That was enough for him. “If you’re asking what I think you're asking, then yes, she wanted to know how you were doing.”

“We'd stay in touch with Storm on that,” Lemon Grass added, though her husband simply shrugged, “She was doing. Happy is a...another thing.”

“You know what I mean, gramps, was she alright, was she...I dunno, happy with herself?”

“She's happy now,” Lemon Grass cut across her husband, answering for him and getting a ‘hmmmph’ for her trouble, which she chose to ignore. She knew all the nasty details of her daughter’s life, and she made up her mind that her granddaughter didn’t need to know all that. Not today. “She is happy where she is, and that is what matters.”

Sobbing fresh tears, oh, how she wished she’d stop crying, Cyclone gently hugged her nanna. The fact that her dad had stayed quiet this whole time didn’t surprise her any. “I-I just w-wanted to t-tell her I l-loved her!” raw emotion flowed out of Cyclone, like water from a hose, she was unable to stop it. “I-I ju-just w-wanted her to p-play with me again!”

Earth Song very gently laid his wrinkled hoof on his grandfilly’s heaving shoulder. “She knew you loved her, Cyclone. She knew.”

“I did, gramps, I really did, honest!”

“Maybe a day will come when she can play with you again,” Lemon Grass said tenderly, not letting go of the tight hug she had on the distraught young pony, “but there is no reason to make that day come any faster.” When she said that, she looked at Bluefeather, who nodded.

Cyclone nodded, rubbing her nose to clear some of the stinging tears from her muzzle. She never expected to be this emotional. “Y-You're right, nanna,” when she said that, Bluefeather glanced at Tropical Storm, in an effort to gauge his reaction, but he had moved off back to the coffin. “I'm ah, I’m moving to Cloudhatten, nanna, but I'll visit, I promise I will.”

“Last time you visited you had to work.” Earth Song said accusingly, again prodding her gently with his cane.

“Las Pegasus is nice though any time of year.” Lemon Grass chimed in, because, well, it was.

Bluefeather giggled at that, speaking up for the first time in a long while. “They do like to do the weather conferences in Las Pegasus.”

Cyclone forced a smile, “yeah they do, right?”

Bluefeather sniffed, “I think it is because of Captain Dash.” Although, if she was honest, it was probably more to do with the excellent weather on the west coast, the casinos, the abundance of dancing ponies and the casinos.

“Yeah, it probably is,” Cyclone couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped her lips. “So, we can visit more often than I did before, gramps.”

“That would be nice.” Lemon Grass reached over to gently touch Monsoon's expertly styled mane. Gallows humour aside, it would be nice indeed to see more of her granddaughter before she joined her daughter. “Yes, very nice.”

Slowly, Cyclone went around to the other side and she carefully stroked her mother's mane. There was so many things she wanted to say. She wished she was more like Wildfire, she would have the right words for this. Her friend would have a poem for this. She however, was not Wildfire. “I-I wish...I wish she'd have come back, y'know, just once or twice, let me know how she was…”

At that, both Lemon Grass and Earth Song looked pointedly over at Tropical Storm, who, just as pointedly looked away from the accusatory stares of elderly ponies. Bluefeather noted these stares, and filed them away, old enough to be able to read between the lines. Thankfully, Cyclone had tears in her eyes again and didn’t notice any of this exchange. “A phone call on Hearths Warming...anything...I-I kept the same number in case she'd call!”

Now, Bluefeather came around to Cyclone’s side and whispered in her ear. “Now is not the time to accuse her.” Especially not when she suspected that Tropical Storm may have had a hoof or two in Monsoon staying away, at least from reading the stares.

“I...I'm not, hun...I just miss her so much!” Cyclone sobbed, very grateful that Bluefeather didn’t move her along, but continued to hold her supportively. After a few, very long, moments she walked over to her dad. “Hey. Hey dad, you holding up?”

“Yeah...” Tropical Storm didn’t look at his daughter at first, “Yeah, um, I'm fine, Cy.”

“Oh really?” she asked, eyebrow raised as she gave the black stallion an extremely tight hug indeed.

“It was a surprise to me too...” Not half as much as the phone call from the police counsellor in Whinnyapolis, Doubleshoes, had been. He deeply, deeply regretted the way he had spoken to her, especially in light of what happened afterwards. “Not a good one, either.” He held Cyclone as tight as she held him. He found he needed his filly’s presence. “I'm so sorry.”

“I know dad,” Cyclone said quietly in the embrace, “I'm sorry too. I know I haven't been around much.”

“Neither of us did you right,” Tropical Storm commented, looking directly at Monsoon’s face as he spoke. “I know I didn't.”

“You did your best, dad.”

Earth Song nudged his wife. He recognised that father and daughter needed time alone to themselves. “Lemon, it's time to go, we will see you all tomorrow.”

Lemon Grass however didn’t want to budge. A tiny vindictive part of her wanted to see Tropical Storm squirm. “But...”

“Now, love.” For once, Earth Song was insistent, and he wasn’t taking any of his wife’s shenanigans. Not today. There would be time enough in the future for recriminations, but for now, he knew Cyclone needed this time with her father.

Cyclone looked at the elderly couple with a teary smile. “We'll see you tomorrow nan, gramps,” she said, hugging them both as tightly as she dared.

As Lemon Grass and Earth Song both took their leave, Royal Pin and Royal Ribbon – Tropical Storm’s brother and sister, respectively – walked into the house of rest. The four unicorns glared daggers at each other as they passed in the entry way. There for just a cursory viewing, the two upper crust lavender coloured unicorns looked once at Monsoon before they turned to leave.

Royal Pin, identical to his sister but for his powder blue mane where hers was candy pink, looked over his shoulder at his younger brother. “Call us if you need us brother, I trust we’ll see you at dinner tonight?”

“Oh ah, um, yeah, sure thing.” Tropical Storm replied, but his siblings had already left, having spent less than five minutes viewing Monsoon’s body.

“Well...” Cyclone sniffled, wiping her eyes on the back of her foreleg, “that was frostier than the Crystal Empire, wasn’t it?”

Closely observing what had just happened, the metaphorical train wreck of a familial meeting, and she gave her lover a slow, tender kiss. Like Earth Song, she too recognised the need for Cyclone and her dad to talk. “I'll be right outside, getting some air, if you need me.”

Cyclone returned the kiss, not wanting to let her go. “Don't go too far, sexy.”

“I won't, I promise.” Bluefeather answered, seeing the pure relief in Tropical Storm's face, obviously he was glad he’d be alone with his daughter to say what she knew needed to be said. “Never too far away, my love.”

As Bluefeather walked outside, Tropical Storm and Cyclone both moved to stand next to Monsoon’s body. “I-I missed you too, dad.”

Tenderly, with far more care than he ever had while she had been alive, Tropical Storm placed his hoof on his dead wife’s chest, careful not to wrinkle her white dress. He tried to ignore the traces of drug abuse on her face. He failed. “When she dropped you out of that window,” he spoke up after a few moment’s silence, “You fell out of her range before she could do anything. We both sort of panicked.”

“It was an accident,” said Cyclone, trying to be supportive as she placed a hoof on her dad’s shoulder, “and you caught me.”

Tropical Storm shook his head. She just didn’t get it. He had to make her see, now they were finally talking. “If I hadn't been in the next room...we blamed each other. She wanted to know why I hadn't taught you how to fly yet.” ‘Because I was too busy photographing models…’

“I know.” Cyclone removed her hoof and looked hard at her dad, “I heard all the arguments. In the hotel, and after, back at home.”

“Not all of them...”

“Dad, let it go!”

“Not yet, I have something else to tell you.” Tropical Storm went quiet, looking down at his ex-wife’s remains until Cyclone made encouraging ‘go on’ motions with her hoof. “You heard us talk about how you weren't planned. Still, she really did love you, even if it wasn't what she was expecting in life.”

Cyclone actually smiled at that, “I was your favourite accident, remember?”

Tropical Storm took a very deep breath, marshalling the strength to say what needed to be said. Monsoon seemed to give him the courage. “J-Just a few months after the accident, I don’t remember exactly when, she brought up the idea of another foal...I...I told her she wasn't safe to be around foals...” the black stallion’s voice diminished to barely a whisper. “Not long after that she left us...she left you.”

“I...I...” Cyclone took a step backwards, looking upon her father like she was seeing him for the very first time in her life. She couldn’t believe what she heard, coming out of this pony’s mouth. She wouldn’t believe it. “You...you said what?”

In that same quiet, almost barely audible tone, he continued. “She, Monsoon, your mo-mom, she told Lemon and Earth what I said, but…she added that I was right. I...I didn't think she would avoid you. You weren't a foal anymore.”

“I was six!” Cyclone screamed in her father’s face, she didn’t care who heard. “I could've had a brother, or a sister!” she raised her hoof, pulling back to slap the black fur from her father’s face, but, breathing heavily, she didn’t deliver the intended blow. “Buck it! Buck you! I could've had a mom for the past eighteen years!”

Tropical Storm didn’t flinch. He wanted her to hit him. He almost needed his daughter to hit him, at least he deserved being beaten. “She never forgave herself for what happened and...I didn't help her because I couldn't let it go either. I watched you falling to your death...”

The black stallion sighed, removing his panama hat and fanning himself with it. Now he was talking, it was like a damn had burst, he couldn’t stop. He had to speak. “It wasn't an accident you went out the window. She wanted to make you fly. The true accident was when her magic failed her. When she knew all she could do was jump after you. I...I shoved her away from the window when I dived out to get you.”

To say she was stunned was an understatement. It was as if her universe had crumbled, been rebuilt and cast down over and over again. Monsoon, her mother, the pony she had hated for so long, had tried to jump after her. She had tried to save her. “And,” she processed this slowly, “you saved my life, and hers too. I…I blamed myself for not being able to stop myself, not being able to fly.”

“I've never been so scared and angry, and she was scared too and got angry along with me.” Tropical Storm explained it, carefully, for the first time. His daughter was seein him as a saviour, and he wasn’t. He wasn’t the hero of the piece, more he was the villain. She had to see that! See what he did! “But it was later, when she wanted another foal and I rubbed in what happened with you. I hurt her, Cy. She was still hurting and I just hurt her more.”

Cyclone nodded slowly, jigsaw pieces slowly falling into place in her head. “Is that why you stayed away too, after she left?”

Sadly, Tropical Storm nodded. Now she understood. “I tried to do my best by you, but when you left home I didn't think I had the right to pursue you. I'm not any better than she was. I'm sorry, but you needed to know this.”

Cyclone couldn’t believe this! Now, after all these years, it made sense. Now she understood. “I mean, I'm grateful and all that you paid for the house I was living in, but YOU weren't there. Every time I called, YOU were too busy with a shoot, or YOU were busy with some model or other...even when I had to leave Canterlot, I hardly saw you and then out of nowhere I get calls, wanting me to work for you!”

How Tropical Storm wished his daughter would hit him, and get it over with. But, she didn’t. “Monsoon called and yelled at me for abandoning you. I yelled back at her. In the end she wasn't coming back, so I had to try. Even if it was too late, I had to try.”

Cyclone let out a long sigh. All her anger seemed to just evaporate. “I know I kept saying no, but as it happens, the next time you asked, I was gonna say yes.”

Like his daughter, Tropical Storm let out a sigh. All the time he was looking at Monsoon’s body. “So, Cy, do you want to model for me?”

Cyclone nodded and at last, she stepped closer to her father, nestling into his side. “I talked it over with Blue, and yeah, she's cool with it.”

“But are you cool with me, after this?”

Cyclone took a long few moments to consider her answer before she replied. “End of the day, you're my dad. You did what you did. It’s done with now. I'm not gonna say I'm not angry, but...I've lost enough time with you already. Yelling at you won’t change what happened.” She nuzzled his cheek, finding it wet like hers was. “I want my daddy back.”

Hearing that, Tropical Storm pulled her into an extremely tight feathery hug. “I don't deserve any more than that. I won’t ask for more than that. Welcome back, Cyclone.”

Cyclone squeezed her dad in the hug. “I missed you, you dozy featherbrain…”

“Are you coming over for dinner tonight?” he asked tentatively, not wanting to push his luck too much, “Royal Ribbon is doing the cooking.”

“I'm sure we can stop by.”

“They close at five to get Monsoon ready for tomorrow.” Tropical Storm commented sombrely, deciding it was time to take his leave. “You can stay till then. You want me to send your marefriend back in?”

“Nah...I'm good.”

“I'll see the two of you tonight about seven, then.”

Cyclone hugged her father’s foreleg. “You bet!” she smiled, happily, for once. “So, are we cool about the job? Is the job offer still open, or do I have to audition?” she asked with a playful smile on her face.

“We're cool.” Tropical Storm replied quickly, though he was still sure he had gotten off rather lightly, all things considered. “We can work the details later, with your marefriend present. Seems she has worked contracts in the past.”

Smiling a very wide smile, Cyclone giggled. “Sounds like a plan, dad. I ah, I never was much of a weather pony anyway.”

“I'm proud of you regardless of what you are.” He blushed, almost ashamed at the cheesiness of what he had just said.

“I know dad,” Cyclone hugged him one last time. “C'mon, let’s go, I don't want Blue getting lonely.”

“You go on ahead.” Tropical Storm changed his mind. “I'm going to stay here for a little bit longer, I think.”

“Promise me you two won't start fighting again?”

“I promise. It's time to start forgiving, if not long past that time.” He offered her an affectionate nuzzle, which she accepted and returned. “Go on, she's lucky to have you.”

“And you're lucky to have such an awesome daughter and model.” With that, Cyclone turned and took her leave, nodding politely to Peace who was stood at the door as she signed the guestbook and walked out into the still heavily leaden stormy skies. Outside, she found Bluefeather pacing around the flower beds, taking an occasional nibble, “Hungry babes?”

Bluefeather looked up and immediately she wrapped Cyclone up in a tight feathery hug. After a moment or two, she stepped away in order to really, properly look at her young lover. Once her scrutiny was complete, she smiled. “You're okay.” It wasn’t a question.

Cyclone nodded. “I-I've been better.” She commented truthfully, “I've also been a little worse.” She smiled a thin, tiny smile that barely troubled the corners of her mouth. “We talked. We really talked. It's a new thing we're trying out.”

“Talking is a good thing.” Bluefeather said, giving her lover a bluebell flavoured kiss as her belly rumbled. “Yes, I’m a little hungry. Do you know a place to eat around here?”

“Cafe Diem!” Cyclone responded with enthusiasm as she smoothed out a wrinkle in her cream sundress. She wanted to be sure her flanks were definitely covered up if she was to be walking around Canterlot. While she had been given leave by Princess Twilight Sparkle to enter the city on extenuating circumstances, she’d rather not encounter any police, or Guard. “It's the only place to eat, and Java still owns it!”

“Sounds wonderful, my love.”

“We used it to hideout from classes there all the time,” she coughed noticeably, “I um, I mean um, study…”

Bluefeather sniggered loudly, not bothering in the least to hide her glee. “Of course, no doubt you studied weather dynamics and cloud formations, I'm sure.”

Grinning, Cyclone draped a wing over her marefriend’s back as she led the way out of the Residential District Cemetery to the street beyond. “Yeah...we never ever talked about stallions or mares at all, much.”

Bluefeather giggled, before laying a gentle little kiss at the base of Cyclone’s ear, not enough to turn her on, though. “The way everypony was dancing on eggshells at the funeral home trying to not make a noise…” she sighed deeply, leaving the cemetery for the sidewalk, “I thought Lemon Grass was going to bite somepony's head off when Earth Song hustled her out of there followed by the other two.”

They walked together in relative silence after that, Bluefeather asking about things she thought were important, like the bakery, the university, Trixie’s Place in Canterlot, the Playcolt Towers, that sort of thing. Every so often Cyclone would answer her, when she wasn’t thinking about her mother and what might have been. Presently, after twenty minutes or so, they turned the corner and Bluefeather was presented with Café Diem. A vision sent straight from Manehatten. “Oh, is that the place?”

Cyclone let out a happy little giggle. “That’s the place, alright.” She was so happy to see her old café, she didn’t think about the stormy skies or anything else. “Ooh, look, the outdoor seats are empty, let’s get one quick!”

“That may have something to do with the imminent weather,” Bluefeather laughed, but she sat nonetheless when Cyclone pulled out a seating pad for her at a table she went straight for. “I'll be generous and let you buy me lunch. Did you bring any bits?”

“You generous bundle of sexiness!” Cyclone giggled, “Sure I bought some bits. Oh hey, while I think about it, best not to eat too much-”

Bluefeather tilted her head at that and she interrupted her young mare in mid-sentence. “Are you saying I'm getting fat?”

Cyclone’s blue eyes went very wide as she realised what she had just said. “No! No, not at all, no! Ugh...sorry, Aunt Ribbon's cooking later, and dad's invited us to dinner,” she tried to cover her faux pas, to explain herself outside the café. The last thing she wanted was a row.

Bluefeather held her shocked expression for literally three seconds before she broke out laughing. She couldn’t hold it for longer than that. “Cy, that look on your face was just too precious!” she kissed Cyclone’s nose, noting the fact she was still wide-eyed as she took the pad she was offered and getting comfortable at the table.

“You're evil!” Cyclone pouted, while Bluefeather simply grinned, unable to dispute such a statement. “So, evil sexy pony, what would you like?”

“Large mocha with cinnamon, and one of those lemon tarts.”

“No probs hun, don't miss me!” she blew her evil lover a kiss before sashaying sexily into the café to place her order before Java could come out and embarrass her with old war stories of her and her group of friends. She was more than capable of embarrassing herself, thank you.

Once the order, a large mocha and lemon tart for Bluefeather and a Celestia coffee and lemon tart for Cyclone, had been placed on their table, the older pegasus took a nibble of her tart. “I'm glad everything went well with your dad,” she said after swallowing the tart square and going for her drink.

Cyclone, on the other hoof, was studying her tart intently as if she expected the secrets of the galaxy to be revealed inside it. “We talked,” she said quietly, “We talked about stuff I needed to know, like how I could've had a sibling but didn't.”

Gently, Bluefeather laid a lemon frosted hoof on her own and squeezed, covering Cyclone’s black hoof in lemon. “Life, it happens and we have to deal with it. Try not to over think what might have been because it never was. Okay?”

“Yeah,” Cyclone smiled, more at the presence of her lover’s hoof than her words. “It’s all ifs and maybes I know, but ah, I dunno, it’s a pretty bucking big ‘if’, y’know?”

Bluefeather did know. She knew and she understood. “A widdle filly or colt would have been fun.” She giggled as she took a long sip of her mocha, “I'm the oldest of four. Brats every one of them.”

Drinking her Celestia coffee, Cyclone giggled. “You, a brat? I can hardly believe it, Blue!”

At her lover’s snark, Bluefeather raised up an eyebrow, so far it went up into her blue mane. “My siblings. I’ll have you know I was the perfect filly.”

“Uh huh,” Cyclone smiled, reaching again for her coffee. “I mean, you are pretty perfect.”

“Don't you forget it.”

“No ma'am.” As Cyclone leaned over the table to kiss Bluefeather’s lips, all of a sudden the dark stormy skies and ominous clouds didn’t seem quite so foreboding. As their lips met and their tongues danced with each other, the love in Cyclone’s heart could’ve cleared the skies all by herself.

Life wasn’t so bad, after all, not when she had Bluefeather by her side.