“Well, that was a shit show.” I wince and carefully get to my hooves to help Rare with the dishes. Rushing down the stairs earlier was the right thing to do, but I’m going to be paying for it for days.

“It wasn’t so bad in the end,” Rare answers. “All in all, I think you handled things admirably.”

Just like the night before, she puts away the food and stuff while I wash the dishes. Then she helps me dry them and put them away too. “What’s next?” I ask.

“Preening?” she suggests with a tired glance toward her bedroom. She must notice something in my reaction that shows how much I don’t want to try and walk up stairs right now, because she adds in a brighter tone, “Or would you like to do something else?”

“Can we just hang out down here for a while?”

“Of course. Why don’t you join me in the sitting room while I write my letters and catch up on a bit of paperwork?”

“Sounds good.”

We walk through to the sitting room. Rarity sits at the desk and gets right to work on a letter. I could take a nap, because I’m me and I can always take a nap, but I’m not really very tired. So, I just let my eyes wander around the room.

Rare’s house is weird. I've been here a ton of times, but I feel like I’ve never really seen it. The sitting room is kind of a parlor and kind of an office. It’s too small for everypony in our group to sit in comfortably though, so we almost never come in here.

It’s bright. That’s one thing I’ve always noticed about Rare’s house, there’s never a shortage of light. Every room has big windows or lamps, so that no matter what time of day it is everything looks bright and clean and “just so.”

I'm laying on a fainting couch that obviously doesn’t get used much. It’s just a little stiff and the upholstery crinkles and kind of creaks when I lay down. Plus, it doesn’t smell quite right. It smells...new. It doesn’t have the clean and faintly flowery scent that the rest of Rarity’s stuff has.

There are bookshelves along two of the walls that have romance novels, sewing manuals, fashion textbooks, and some magical resource books. There are a couple fancy, but comfortable, chairs by the window and a few awards and things laying around. Finally, there’s the neat little desk where Rare is sitting and a big filing cabinet next to it that I'm guessing is full of Boutique paperwork and bazillions of dress designs.

This room doesn't exactly look like I'd expect a room in Rarity’s house to look. It’s too….normal. It splits the difference between the peaceful, havenish feeling of her bedroom and the bright, fancy, busy vibe in the Boutique showroom. I like it though. It has a good balance and kind of reminds of the two sides of Rarity I didn’t always realize existed.

Somepony knocks on the door to The Boutique. I think about getting up to answer it, but before the thought makes it from my brain to my muscles, Rare pops up from her spot at the desk.

“It's alright, Dashie,” she says. “I'll get it. I won’t be but a moment.” She nuzzles me quickly before she walks out. It doesn’t feel like she’s trying to keep me from freaking out about her leaving me alone or whatever. It's just a totally thoughtless thing, like that's just something we always do when one of us leaves a room. It’s weird that it feels normal, but I also really appreciate that it feels that way.

The second she’s out of sight, I feel the blank space where she’s supposed to be. It’s always kind of like that for me when the ponies I’ve been hanging out with leave. It’s like I can hear the silence they were filling by talking to me once they’re gone. That’s part of why I hate being alone so much. This is a little different though. I don’t just want anypony to come fill the void. I want Rarity to come back. I don’t even need her to talk to me or anything. I just want her in the room.

Rare is back quicker than I expected with a pile of mail levitating in front of her face that she’s shuffling through as she walks.

“Anything good?” I ask.

She hums in an ambivalent non-answer, which seems weird.

“What’s up?” I ask more forcefully this time. She ignores me and finishes looking at all of the envelopes in the stack. “Rare?” I’m using my irritated voice now, but she doesn’t seem to care. She just goes through the pile again, silently splitting it into three piles.

Finally, she turns to look at me and an envelope drifts over from the first pile. “You’ll want to read that one,” she says in a businesslike tone. “I’m fairly certain is from the advocate I reached out to about making an appointment to come see you. This one,” she waves a heavy, off-white parchment affair at me, “Is from Contra Forma.”

“What about those?” I point at the other two piles.

“One is a pile of Boutique business and the other is nothing you need to worry about.” She says too carefully as she sits down at the desk and pops open her thick envelope and starts skimming over the pages.

The letter she handed me is in a basic white envelope that I really don’t want to open. I don’t really understand exactly what a victim’s advocate is, but I don’t want one. The thought of having somepony I don’t know holding my hoof in court or telling me how to feel my feelings just sounds like it’s own special brand of hell. Plus, I really don’t think I need an advocate. I’ve got Twilight to read all the books and fill out all the forms, Pinkie to make sure I laugh once in a while, Applejack to make sure that I don’t get fat and lazy, Fluttershy to worry about everything, and Rarity to make sure that I look good and get where I’m supposed to be on time. What else could there be for this pony to do?

Without opening it, I tuck the envelope down into the cushion of the couch then rest my head on my crossed forehooves and watch Rarity read. She isn’t skimming anymore. Whatever the lawpony sent over, it’s serious business. Rare has a little crease between her eyebrows like she’s having to work really hard to understand everything that she’s reading.

She takes so long with the letter that I get bored and decide to open mine anyway. The letter is simple and to the point. Rare’s friend says that her marefriend has to finish up something today, but she’ll be on the early train to Ponyville to meet with me tomorrow. If we decide that we want to use somepony else more local, then we just need to let her know by tonight.

It’s kinda weird that she doesn’t yammer on about how awful it is that I got raped or whatever. I wonder how much Rare actually put in the first letter.

The idea that this advocate pony doesn’t already know exactly what she’s walking into actually makes me feel a little better. I mean, it’s something to do with her job, so she must have some idea and know that it isn’t a good thing. But, she can’t know exactly what happened. Nopony could keep their response that bland if they really knew what happened.

Finally, Rare lets out a huge sigh and puts down the stack of papers she’s been reading through. “What’s she got to say?” I ask.

“Nothing very good, I’m afraid,” Rare answers rubbing her head just a little. “Twilight seems to have sent over an extensive collection of research documents, which may or may not prove helpful. Contra asked if I could potentially curb Twilight’s enthusiasm just a smidge.”

We share a knowing look. “Good luck with that,” I say.

“Indeed,” she answers absently. Obviously, her brain is still working through all of the stuff in the letter.

I’m not surprised Twilight sent a bunch of stuff over to the lawpony. I am surprised that Rare isn’t rubbing the fact in my face though. Now would be a good time for her to lean over and say in her totally fake innocent voice, “I did tell you Twilight would help us, didn’t I?” But she isn’t doing that.

“What kind of stuff did Twilight send over?” I ask.

Rare stops rubbing her head and shrugs a little. “Oh a little of this and a little of that,” she says. “Apparently, the research was quite comprehensive.”

“Meaning… what exactly?”

“Dash-”

“Just tell me, Rarity.”

“Meaning that Twilight approached her research from the same point of view she articulated last night.”

“Seriously?”

Rare sighs again. “Yes, darling.”

“So, she pretty much told your lawpony that you deserve to go to prison for helping me?”

“No!” She snaps at me. “And that is a horrible accusation for you to make.” Her expression softens a little bit when my ears twitch back at the outburst but not much. “She merely acknowledged the legal realities in play. Most specifically, that Equestrian law is clear about the use of aggressive magic. Had I acted in self-defense, there wouldn’t be an issue. Had I simply shielded you from him, there wouldn’t be an issue.”

“The law says you’re just supposed to not use your magic?” I want to stand up and start pacing. I need to move. I hate feeling frustrated and confused like this. My wings keep twitching, because I’ve never been able to keep them from showing when I’m irritated. The little pops and sparks of pain from the twitching are making it even harder for me to think. So, I can’t move and I can’t think.

I have to suck in four of the deepest breaths I can manage before I’m able to say anything else. Rarity waits patiently for me to calm down. She’s careful to not get that look on her face though- the one that would let me know she feels bad for me. Her expression is more like the one she uses when she’s watching somepony try on a dress she already knows isn’t going to look good on them, but she has to wait for them to figure that out before they’ll listen to anything she might have to say.

“But you kicked his ass,” I finally manage to spit out, “so you deserve to get locked up?”

She shakes her head. “No, and that isn’t what Twilight was saying,” she answers calmly like there was never a disruption in the conversation. “She mentioned a variety of possible defenses in her notes to Contra Forma, but none of them are particularly simple. The hope was that Twilight would be able to find some precedent to simply shield me from prosecution. Despite her exhaustive efforts, there was simply no such defense to be found I’m afraid.”

“So what now?”

“Now Contra earns her retainer I suppose.” She shrugs. “Most likely crafting an affirmative defense, which will essentially state that -although I was not acting in self-defense- I was acting in defense of another pony and therefore my actions were justified.”

“Will that work?”

“Perhaps,” she muses. “And if it doesn’t, as I’ve said, I don’t particularly mind. I won’t deny what I’ve done, Rainbow, because I am not ashamed. If I must be held accountable to the law for saving your life, then I shall consider the whole affair a bargain at twice the price.”

“It’s just so messed up!”

“You aren’t wrong,” she says with a little edge to her voice that I wasn’t really expecting. She seems so ok with all of this, but that little slip reminds me that even though she’s Rarity, there’s no way she’s just ok with getting locked up. She just knows better than to waste being upset about stuff she can’t change. “Unfortunately, this seems to be one of those times in our lives where being right simply isn’t enough, darling. And we don’t know that I’m going to be convicted of anything. Contra still seems baffled by the guards' behavior, and if the work Twilight turned out in the first few hours is any indication, then she shall continue work relentlessly on my behalf. So, let’s not waste time or energy fretting about matters we have no control over, alright?”

By the end of her little speech, her voice sounds all too familiar. It’s the same tone she uses when we’re stuck in the middle of nowhere, with no way to get home and she suddenly points out some beautiful cloud formation or something that supposed to make us all feel better. It makes her sound like a mix between a total airhead and an eternal optimist, even though we all know that she really isn’t either of those things, and it’s a signal that we’ve all whined around enough and it’s time to start figuring out how to get home.

“Whatever,” I sigh.

“Wonderful, I’m so glad you agree. Let’s focus on something we can do something about, shall we? Perhaps now would be an ideal time to get your morning preening out of the way?”

She makes it sound like a suggestion, but it really isn’t, so I just say, “Sure. Let’s go,” and we head upstairs.

There really isn’t too much for Rares to do, but she still takes her time. I don’t feel like I have to say anything to fill the silence, which is nice. She doesn’t start humming happily until she’s working on the second wing, and I can’t help but wonder if she suggested doing this because grooming and stuff helps calm her down. It’s not like I mind. It feels really good and helps me feel better too.

I’m mostly asleep when she’s done, but I try to sit up when she does.

“You should rest, darling,” she says gently pushing me back down into the bed.

“You should rest, darling,” I say as petulantly as I can through my drowsiness.

“I couldn’t possibly just now I’m afraid. I simply must get some work done today.”

There’s a familiar flicker in the back of my brain that says I should probably feel bad about how much work she’s missed the past few days, but the rest of my brain knows the look she’d give me if I tried to apologize. So, I don’t say anything about it.

A nap sounds nice, but I don’t want to be alone, so I grab my book and follow her downstairs into her inspiration room. How many of these fainting couches does she have? This one is more broken in than the one in the living room though. Super comfy.

The second I lay down, Opal comes for a scratch behind the ears, then she sits on my book. Typical cat.

Watching Rare work is cool. She’s got a bunch of big projects going, but she starts with a few basic repairs for ponies around town, then a Cutesinera dress that she’s gifting to somepony because she knows their parents can’t afford one. I’ve never paid attention to watching her work. Sewing and stuff definitely isn’t my thing. But because I wasn’t watching very closely, I’ve also never realized how hard she works. There’s no quit in that pony. It doesn’t matter if it’s a basic hem repair on somepony’s old jacket or if it’s an elaborate design of her own, she doesn’t let herself make mistakes. She mutters to herself when she misses a stitch then hums happily as she undoes five minutes worth of work to fix the problem, so everything is perfect.

Even when Opal moves to do something else, I don’t open my book. I just put my head down and watch Rare. I don’t know what she’s doing, and I don’t care. I should probably let myself fall asleep, but I feel all of the memories and feelings that I’ve been trying to avoid boiling just beneath the surface of my mind. If I relax just a little they’re going to boil over again. Focusing on Rarity gives me just enough of a buffer to stay present.

She starts singing to herself again. We all sing. It’s kind of a requirement of living in Ponyville. All my friends can sing pretty well. This is different though. Rares hums or sings a lot. It’s like she’s filling in the soundtrack for her day, but I wonder if the tune matches what she’s got going on inside or if it’s just another cover up to distract me from noticing that she’s thinking or worried.

There’s a knock at the door. “I’m so sorry we aren’t open today!” Rares calls out.

“Rarity, it’s us,” Twilight answers.

Rares glances at me. “Let ‘em in,” I say and start trying to stand up. Part of me wants to be bugged that everypony is here. I was enjoying the quiet, peaceful feeling. The rest of me is just glad that they’re done talking to the guards already. Plus, I want to know what happened.

Rarity goes and undoes whatever magical lock she had on the door. Twi, Shy, and Pinkie follow her back into the room. “Where’s AJ?” I ask.

“Still in interrogation,” Twilight says quickly. She only looks at me for a second and then glances away. Any hope I’d had that we’d wake up and stuff would just magically be better today dies.

“Why don’t I make us all a little something?” Rares offers and starts walking toward the kitchen.

“I’ll help,” Flutters says and follows her out.

“I’ll... go grab some snacks from Sugarcube Corner,” Pinkie says a second later making it super obvious that they’re all trying to give me and Twilight a chance to talk.

“Come on, Egghead,” I say standing up to walk over to the big sitting area in the showroom. It’s where we always sit when we’re all here, because it’s where we all fit. That’s why the sitting room was so new.

Twi stays a couple steps behind me during. It kinda freaks me out, like she’s going to attack me from behind or something. It doesn’t matter that I know she isn’t going to do anything like that, by the time I get to the next fainting couch I’m on edge and grinding my teeth.

Twilight sits on the sofa. She looks beat. It’s the look she gets when she’s been staying up way too late for way too many days in a row. Plus, she has that defeated thing going on. The one that says she isn’t making the kind of progress her checklist and calendar says she needs to be making to achieve her usual level of kickassery.

I know I should ask if she’s ok. I should probably tell her thank you for trying to help Rarity. I should, but I can’t. All I can see is her explaining to Spike why Rarity was wrong to chuck Mac down the street. The memory of her logical tone sends a wave of angry chills down my spine. So, I don’t say anything. She doesn’t say anything either though, so we just sit in the kind of heavy, tense silence that I usually fly away from as fast as I possibly can.

Shy and Rarity must be talking in the kitchen, or Rarity is listening at the door and refusing to come out until Twilight and I have talked, because they should be done with the tea or whatever by now.

That sucks.

I’m pissed, but I need Twilight. My Twilight. I need my friggin’ Egghead to help me figure out how to get Rares out of this mess. I need Twilight to make sure Fluttershy doesn’t go off the deep end. I need Twilight, because I’m going to be a courtroom soon and I’m not going to understand a damn thing anypony is saying, and I’m going to need Twilight and Rarity both there to make sure nothing gets screwed up. That’s a two pony job, and I trust Rarity’s attorney about as much as AJ trusts the Flim Flam Brothers. I don’t need the Princess of Friendship. I need Twilight on my team.

But first, I need her to look at me. She’s been very obviously not looking at me since she got here. Part of me can’t blame her. I know what I look like right now. If I saw somepony this messed up on the street, I probably wouldn’t want to look at them either. But I’m not just some pony on the street. So, the fact that she’s acting like I’m not me anymore isn’t helping me feel any less irritated with her.

“Twi?” I say and I’m proud of myself for keeping my exasperation out of my voice. She stops looking around the shop but doesn’t quite look at me either. “Dammit Twi, just look at me!” I lose what little control I had.

Her eyes snap to mine and instantly fill with tears. “Rainbow, I...” The words catch in her throat and she looks away again.

I get up and walk over to her. She throws herself at me, which hurts because she still hasn’t figured out that she’s way stronger as an alicorn than she ever could have been as a unicorn. I let her hug me and pat her back a little.

“I’m so sorry,” she says over and over. “I’m sorry I was so terrible to you yesterday. I’m sorry. I- I- I couldn’t believe… and then the Princess… It just doesn’t make any sense. I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah,” I mutter. “Things are pretty messed up all around.”

“I know and I’m so sorry, Dash.”

I lean into the hug a little bit. “I’m sorry I snapped at you, Twi. I just need you on my side.”

She pulls back with a little offended look on her face. The look quickly changes to something sheepish and apologetic though. “Of course I’m on your side, Rainbow.”

“Good.” I pull her in for one more squeeze. “Now can you tell me what the hell is going on?”

That’s when the others come back. They must have literally been waiting at the doors before they came in. Flutters sits next to Twilight on the sofa. I go back to my spot on the fainting couch and Pinkie takes a big armchair. She brought a tray of cupcakes that are frosted half purple and half rainbows with little “RD and Twily made up!” party flags poking out of them.

She looks normal, but something isn’t right. The vibe between me and Twilight is still off. We didn’t really talk about anything. Twi just got to apologize enough to be able to function. Pinkie is in tune with that kind of stuff. She’s probably worried that she made the wrong kind of cupcake decorations. She cares a lot about making sure the party actually matches the occasion.

Pinkie isn’t the only source of weird vibes though. Fluttershy and Rarity both seem off too. Like, more off than they were when they went into the kitchen.

Rare takes a spot on the floor in front of me after she sets a glass of water on the end table where I can reach it. She is close enough to touch, but just barely. She probably assumes that I won’t notice that something is going on, but it’s too late. I noticed and I’m not just going to let it go.

Why is Marshmallow on the floor? And why does she look like that? And why is Flutters avoiding making eye contact? What happened in that kitchen?

I lean forward. I have to clench my teeth, because I’m stretching my ribs in a way they really don’t like again, but I manage not to let out the whine I feel in my throat and cover it with a little coughing sound. Rares leans back just a little so I don’t have to stretch so far, and I nuzzle right behind her ear. I know what it must look like, but I don’t care.

Rare is sitting with her perfectly prissy posture. Her cup of tea is hovering in a perfectly controlled blue aura in front of her face- waiting to be sipped. Her cupcake and a tiny little fork are perfectly arranged on a neat little plate on the coffee table. Other than being on the floor, she looks perfect and normal for Rarity. But, now that I’m close enough to touch her, I notice that she’s shaking, like she’s either about to burst into tears or to start yelling at somepony.

“You ok?” I whisper. She just nods her head a tiny bit, which is actually a really good indicator that everything is not ok. If everything was fine, she wouldn’t make a show of minimizing my question.

Shy’s definitely got something to do with the weirdness. Rarity’s eyes are moving carefully around the room to maintain the illusion that she isn’t upset, but she looks at Fluttershy for a nanosecond too long. Shy’s wings are twitchy and Twilight is staring at the bottom of her cup. So, she must know what’s going on too.

I hate drama. I don’t know what I’m doing, but this isn’t ok. I want to ask Rarity a question, but I don’t want everypony to hear it. I wish I could see her face. Whatever is going on, I don’t know what it is or how to fix it.

Pinks shifts uncomfortably in her seat. She knows something’s up too. She’s looking around at everypony, and it’s like the air is slowly leaking out of her mane again. She gives me this big-eyed pleading look. Whatever the drama is, Pinkie can’t handle it right now. She needs a break.

I nuzzle Rares again, and she leans into it just a little and nods. She must have seen Pinkie’s look too. We don’t have to talk about it to agree that we aren’t going to make Pinks deal with anything else right now.

I pull back from Rare and give Pinks the best smile I can manage. Her mane instant starts curling again and I can almost hear the expression in her eyes saying ‘thank you thank you thank you Dashie!”

“How ya feelin’ today, Dashie?” Pinkie asks in her ‘let’s move onto something else” voice.

“Sore,” I admit, “but it could be worse. How did it go at the station?”

Her mane starts losing volume again, but just a little bit. “They just asked a lot of silly questions,” she says and starts fidgeting with her cupcake wrapper.

“I’m sure you did fine, darling,” Rares chimes in with her reassuring confidence. I can’t see her face, but she must be smiling a real smile at Pinkie. Nothing else would make her perk up like that. Even though she’s still kinda off.

“It didn’t feel fine,” Pinkie says to Rarity. “It felt like they wanted me to say that you were trying to sneak into a party you weren’t invited to or something. They really wanted to know if you had any magic-pony friends besides Twilight.”

“Why would they want to know that?” I ask.

“They seem to be working a theory that Rarity had an accomplice,” Twilight answers in that logical tone that I’m learning to hate.

“Wait,” I raise a hoof and try to infuse my words with a laugh and a double dose of sarcasm. “So, they don’t just think that me and Rares decided to use me as rape-bait for one of the most mild-mannered stallions in Equestria? They also think that we decided to ask somepony to help us, but only after he’d beat the shit out of me and mounted me from behind?”

“I didn’t say it was a reasonable theory, Dash,” Twilight says looking right at me this time. “Although, some explanation must be made for how Rarity, who has never had any particularly advanced magical training, was able to generate enough power to throw a stallion of Mac’s size more than a hundred yards.

“Mac’s attorney has all but announced what their defense strategy is going to be. He’s leaning heavily on some antiquated legal codes that date back to the unification, which were put in place because of earth pony and pegasi prejudice against unicorn magic. The laws essentially make it completely illegal for a unicorn to use their magic in any aggressive fashion on non-unicorns.

“Asking these questions now is actually a very favorable approach for Rarity. If the investigation were to find an accomplice, who was actually the pony that had attacked Mac, then Rarity would be in the clear.”

The words “attacked Mac” make me see red. Mac attacked me! What the hell is Twilight thinking? Why does she keep talking like Mac is some kind of victim in all of this?

Before I calm down enough to say anything, Pinkie speaks up. “But there isn’t anypony else.” She chimes in sadly. “So what does that mean?”

“It means that my actions must be defended on their own merits,” Rarity answers calmly. Then she looks back at Twilight. “Contra mentioned that you’d sent over some materials to assist with my defense?”

“Yes.” Twilight goes to full presentation mode now. “There have been very few cases like this where the assault charge was upheld, but there are some very unique concerns here. Typically, the first line of defense would be ‘extreme emotional duress.’ One of your good friends was in danger, so you were well within your rights to defend her, and because of the heightened emotional state your ability to regulate your magic was not what it might have normally been.”

“That sounds like a good option,” I say. Only in my head do I add, “Because it’s what fucking happened!”

“Except that Rarity wasn’t out of control,” Shy mumbles. She’s looking at me through her forelock. She knows me too well. She knows that I’m pissed off right now. That’s why she’s giving me the “please calm down. Don’t be angry” look. “She said yesterday that she was holding back trying not to kill him.”

“Precisely,” Twilight says. “The basic premise that Rarity is a pony that loses her composure during high-pressure situations is easily dismissed.”

Pinkie giggles. I literally feel Rares give her the eyebrow. “What?” Pinkie says. Then stands up and acts like Rarity did at that first tea party thing we had for Princess Celestia backing up toward the kitchen, eyes glaring at each one of us in turn. “Nopony move! Just stay where you are and my fancy fancy dress will stay perfectly pretty!”

I have to laugh at the memory. Rare doesn’t just roll her eyes. She rolls her entire head and groans. ”That was one time! It was the test outing of my very first Gala dress!”

“Riiiiight,” Pinkie laughs and goes back to her chair.

Pinks has a point. Marshmallow plays the damsel in distress card more than anypony I know. The funny part is that she almost never does it when she’s actually in distress (except for that time with diamond dogs). When shit is really hitting the fan, Rare is cool as a cucumber. She walked up to a dragon and tried to steal from them for pony’s sake.

“What would be the next line of defense?” Rares asks bringing us all back to the point and then shooting a little glare at Pinkie Pie. Pinkie just sticks her tongue out in response.

“That Mac deserved what he got,” Twi picks back up in presentation mode. “Perhaps you used more magic than you should have, but the consequences should simply be considered part of his sentence for the crime he committed. For example, a pony caught stealing may suffer some terrible side effects of anti-theft magic, which can last for months. Each month perpetrator experiences symptoms may be subtracted from their overall sentence, depending on the severity of the symptoms and the severity of the crime.”

“Oh, that’s great,” I’m really trying to not sound pissed, but the more Twilight talks the angrier I feel. “So, because he got his flank kicked by a mare, he doesn’t have to deal with any consequences at all?”

My brain hurts and I’m suddenly exhausted. I think Mac should go to jail, but not forever. The laws that Twilight and Rarity keep talking about are totally stupid, except that I grew up in Cloudsdale where a lot of ponies still talk about how unicorns can’t be trusted to not just take over the world with their magic. Twilight is my friend and Rarity’s, but she keeps talking about all the ways and reasons why Rare might be in serious trouble for helping me. It’s all just confusing and I’m just about to the point where I can’t think about it anymore.

“That’s a gross overstatement,” Twilight grumps back at me. “Mac has some bruises and a couple cracked ribs. If his recovery time is counted as concurrent imprisonment, it would shave a few months off of any sentence at most.”

“Oh. Ok.” I calm down a little bit. “How much time could he get?”

“If the attempted murder charge carries, Apple Bloom could be a grandmare before he gets out.”

“If it doesn’t?” Rares asks.

“If he’s found guilty of the rape at trial, he’ll probably get ten years,” Twi answers

“If he does the sensible thing and pleads guilty?” Rare counters.

“Five.”

Why does five years seem like such a long time? We’re talking about my rapist getting what he deserves and I feel bad for him- not just him. I feel bad for AJ and Granny Smith. How are they supposed to keep Sweet Apple Acres running without Mac for that long? I feel bad for Apple Bloom. She’s just a kid, and she loves her big brother. Is she really only going to be able to go see him at some prison a few times a year?

“What happens if the judge-ponies are Dummy McDummertons and Rarity gets in trouble?” Pinkie is trying really hard to be brave, but her voice is shaking.

“Three to five, depending on how severe the committee feels the infraction is,” Twilight says staring at the bottom of her cup again. Pinkie throws herself at Rarity. Rares just takes the impact and holds Pinks while she cries.

“It’s not right, Twilight,” Fluttershy says. She finally sounds like she gives a damn, instead of just sounding like she’s shocked and angry. “You know it isn’t right.”

Twilight just hangs her head for a minute. “I- I think Celestia would issue a pardon if it came down to that.”

“Fat lot of help that would be,” I grunt. “Why not just pardon her now and get it over with?”

“Because that would mean Celestia thinks Rarity did something wrong,” Twi answers. “Which she doesn’t. It’s better for everypony for Rarity’s name to be cleared by a hearing in open court than for Celestia to make a unilateral decision like that.”

I can’t help it. I know it isn’t Twilight’s fault that things are playing out like this, but it sucks. Rares can’t afford to have the kind press that’s going to happen because of this bullshit. It could ruin her career.

Suddenly, I feel like I just got hit by a train.

Careers.

My career.

The Wonderbolts…

It’s the offseason- three months of being back in Ponyville full time, except for one practice every other week. Spitfire said that they wanted to work a Sonic Rainboom into the big finish this year. I’m supposed to be going to flight guard training in a couple weeks.

I’m a Wonderbolt that can’t fly.