“Are you hungry?” Rarity asks after helping me out of the jacket and hanging it up in a little closet just inside the kitchen door.

I’m starving but it’s late and we’re both exhausted, so I say, “Nah, I’m fine.”

“You know, you really are a terrible liar,” she responds, eyeing me skeptically. Of course, my stomach decides to gurgle hungrily the very next second and her face instantly turns knowingly smug. She probably just asked me if I was hungry to be polite or something. “Salad or sandwich?”

“Sandwich, please,” I answer rolling my eyes and sitting down at the table. “Thanks.”

“It’s really no trouble, darling,” she says totally ignoring my eye-roll and opening the ice box to pull out ingredients.

It’s weird to see her like this. In my brain, Rarity belongs in her workroom or at some party that always looks like the Grand Galloping Gala in my imagination- not in a kitchen doing the same boring stuff everypony else does every day.

“Cider?” she offers poking her head out of the icebox.

“Got anything else?”

She rattles around in the shelves for a second before answering, “Tea, water, juice, wine, and... tequila.”

“Tequila?” I ask, giving her the eyebrow. “Marshmallow, I’m impressed.”

“Sometimes I like to dance.” She shrugs and is so distracted by finding the stuff she wants for her salad that the words come out ironic and bland.

I laugh. It’s my first deep, real laugh since all of this started and I don’t even feel bad about it. It hurts my ribs, but it’s totally worth it.

“We’ll have to do shots sometime,” I chuckle.

“Not tonight, I’m afraid. You wouldn’t be able to keep up and what fun would that be?” Her tone is so casual, with just the right touch of condescending to still be Rarity.

I feel lighter. All the pressure of being around other ponies is gone and all the weight of having to continuously deal with the fact that I got raped is on pause for a few minutes. Being here with Rarity is weird, but it’s a good weird.

It’s not like the two of us haven’t ever hung out just us, but even then I never got to see her like this. Rare in her own house with all her defenses down isn’t a totally different pony than the one I’ve always known. She’s just the best bits of the pony I’ve been friends with for such a long time without all the other crap she puts on in public.

I wonder why the hay she hides so much in manners and drama. I’m one of her best friends and I literally can’t think of a time before now when I thought it would be fun to just hang out at a bar and chill with Rarity. What is she afraid of?

Maybe that isn’t a fair question for somepony like me to ask. It’s not like I don’t turn into a different pony when I’m all by myself because I totally do. The snuggly robe and slippers are a side of me that only Tank gets to see.

“Is wine any good?” I ask distractedly.

“It depends,” she says matching my tone because she’s at the counter now making my sandwich. “There are some horrible options out there, of course, but as it’s my preferred way to wind down at the end of a long day, I generally have something agreeable on hoof.”

“You could’ve just said yes,” I mumble. “Is it what you’re having?”

“I believe so, yes.”

“I’ll have what you’re having.”

She sets two plates on the table. Mine has a sandwich with the crust cut off and a mix of daisies, daffodils, cucumbers with some sort of sauce. There are a few carrots in a perfectly neat row next to the sandwich, and a little cup of white stuff that I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to dip the carrots in. There’s also a pile of chips.

“You eat chips?” I ask, popping one into my mouth.

It doesn’t make any sense for the Rarity I know to eat chips. I’ve known her for years and literally never seen her eat anything that could be called chips. She eats salad and the stupid little food that doesn’t taste like anything from trays at fancy parties, or she doesn’t eat at all and makes stupid little comments like ‘not all of us have the metabolism to eat like a garbage disposal, Rainbow Dash.’

“On occasion,” she answers, “I always have them in the house for Sweetie and her friends.”

Her plate totally validates my thoughts about how she eats. There’s a salad made from the same greens as my sandwich but it’s also got strawberries, oranges, and some nuts. She’s got a little cup to the side just like me, but the stuff inside is reddish brown.

I lean over and steal a strawberry off her plate.

“Really, Rainbow.” she swats at me half-heartedly. “You couldn’t just ask for your own strawberries?”

“Nope,” I say through a mouthful of strawberry then swallow. “They taste better when they’re yours, Marshmallow.”

“Ugh.” she rolls her eyes and sits down as she puts two glasses filled with something light pink on the table. I’m giving it a sniff when I hear a crunch that can only be one of my chips.

“You couldn’t get your own?” I snark at her.

“Pilfering from the plates of others seems to be rather in vogue at the moment,” she says with a little wave of her hoof. “Who am I to question fashion?”

It’s my turn to roll my eyes and smile.

We eat in easy silence after that. I think we’re both talked out for now. The wine is good. It tastes like strawberries and doesn’t give me much more of a buzz than a hard cider would have.

Rarity starts picking up dishes and I realize that I haven’t done a damn thing to be helpful since I got here. “Can I help?” I offer.

She looks at me for just a second before answering. It’s pretty close to being the same look she gives Sweetie Belle when she offers to cook. I can’t exactly tell if Rare is surprised that I offered or worried about me messing up her kitchen or myself trying to help. “Do you mind washing the dishes while I put these other things away?” she finally answers.

“Yeah, I can do that.” I try to hop up off the chair and get a very painful reminder from my back end that I shouldn’t be hopping anywhere right now, especially after I’ve been sitting for any length of time.

Rare winces when I flinch, but relaxes when I start taking more careful steps toward the sink. “Thank you, Rainbow,” she says quietly.

“No prob.”

It feels nice to do something normal. I never wash the dishes right after I eat at home. I almost never eat at home, so it isn’t that much of a problem. I have some plates and stuff, but I almost never use them. I think Rarity actually gave me some fancy ones for ‘when you have guests, darling’ but I never have guests. Villa Bella Dash is nice, but it’s kind of out of the way. Plus, I’m friends with a lot of ground ponies. Falling through the floor can be a totally funny prank when it’s set up right, but most ponies really don’t enjoy it and don’t enjoy risking it either.

Moving around the kitchen, trying to stay out of Rarity’s way, watching her put stuff away, feeling her brush up against me absentmindedly as she passes on her way to the pantry- this isn’t our normal, but isn’t super weird either. It’s just something the two of us have ever done before, but it isn’t something I’ve done with any of our other friends either. When I eat at Fluttershy’s or Applejack’s I don’t usually help with the dishes because I don’t want to get in the way. But, I don’t feel like I’m intruding or anything by helping right now. Maybe the weirdest thing about the whole situation is that I notice how not-weird it is.

She finishes putting the food and stuff away, then dries the dishes I washed and puts them in the cabinet. “Ready?” she asks when the kitchen is back to being ridiculously clean.

“Yeah.” I step aside and follow her up the stairs.

She stops at the top and looks down the hall to the guest room and Sweetie’s room. “Where would you prefer to sleep?”

Instantly, I feel like an idiot for not being ready for the question. Of course, she wants some space. I’ve been crowding since she found me. I just assumed that I was sleeping in her bed again, which is totally stupid. She’s Rarity! She’s been awesome about helping me and not making me feel bad for stuff, but she’s literally seen every busted up part of me. She isn’t going to want to sleep next to somepony that’s dirty and ruined like this. I can’t blame her for wanting some distance. Plus, it’s probably not a good idea to keep using her as a security blanket to keep all the memories and stuff away. I just didn’t think she’d push me away so soon. I just thought she’d give me at least one more night to get myself together.

Most ponies in my situation probably wouldn’t even want to sleep next to somepony after what happened. They’d probably just want to be left alone, but I don’t want to be alone. That’s the very last thing I want, but she’s already done enough. Plus, I don’t want her to do anything because she feels bad for me.

A gentle nuzzle pulls me out of my spiraling thoughts. I didn’t realize it, but my ears pinned back against my head and I started crying the second she asked the question. Then I took way too long to answer.

“I’m sorry,” she says softly and brushes my mane back, off my face. She sounds so tired and there’s a little trickle of tears working their way down her face. “I just didn’t want to assume anything. You’ve been through enough today without being forced to sleep in a bed you don’t want. That was all I intended.”

“I want to sleep with you,” I answer quickly, feeling way more relieved than I want to admit. Then I realize what I said and how it sounds, so I follow up a totally uncool, “If that’s cool with you.”

She smiles a little and then lets out a big, deep sigh and nuzzles me again. “Please.”

We both sag as we walk through the door to Rarity’s room. It feels like we haven’t been here in weeks. I don’t know when she did it, but Rare cleaned up at some point. The room wasn’t exactly messy when we left, but the cushions Twilight and Fluttershy sat on are put away and the bed is made perfectly. Like, even the Wonderbolts drill sergeant couldn’t find a wrinkle on it if she tried.

“Would you like a shower?” Rare offers from inside her closet.

I shrug. I felt dirty and weak during the interview. Having a doctor and camera literally documenting everything that’s wrong with me didn’t help. I feel gross in more ways than I ever would have imagined. Trying to wash all of that down the drain probably isn’t going to work, but it’s better than nothing. “Sure.”

“Will you be needing assistance?” she asks, reemerging without the blue jacket she was wearing before.

Every one of my muscles is feeling the strain of pushing way too hard today. Collapsing on the bottom of her huge tub sounds amazing. Having her wash my mane for me, so I don’t have stretch, sounds like a really good idea too. “Yeah, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind,” she says heading into the bathroom.

“Cool.”

“Rainbow?” she hesitates at the door and gives me pleading little look.

“Yeah?”

“Would it be alright if we took a bath instead? A soak sounds heavenly. I can add a few things to help soothe your bumps as bruises as well.”

“Sure, Marshmallow. Whatever.” I smile a little bit to myself. Only Rarity would describe getting beat up so bad I barely escaped the hospital as ‘bumps and bruises.’ She plugs the drain and I hear the water start running, plus some other sounds that I still don’t recognize.

For the first time, I really look around Rarity’s bedroom and actually see it. I haven’t been in here for a long time, not since she moved her workroom downstairs a while back. It’s nice. It isn’t as big as my bedroom since I remodeled, which is probably a good thing. I’ve actually been thinking about making my room smaller again. It’s so big now that it just feels empty all the time. I expanded it so I could practice a trick, but I don’t need the extra space anymore.

Rare’s room is open enough for a pony to move, but it has enough stuff to feel like it isn’t missing anything. There’s little desk thing with a mirror and brushes and stuff in one corner. It has a matching little bench. There’s a fainting couch in the corner with a little table and a couple of bookshelves by it. There’s the door to her closet. The whole thing is fancy, but it’s also way more cool and comfortable than I remember. Everything looks clean and quiet. The bed is big, but not huge. The colors all match and the whole place is just...peaceful.

“It’s not a bad space, is it?” I don’t know when she got there but her voice doesn’t startle me. It just adds to the whole homey vibe.

“I like it. I like being here. Thanks for letting me stay, Rare.”

“Of course. I’m pleased you feel comfortable here, although I do wish the circumstances were better. Are you ready?”

I nod and follow her into the bathroom. It smells AMAZING! Like flowers and a bunch of other really good stuff all mixed together. There’s a curtain of steam as I walk through the doorway that makes all of my muscles start to relax at once. It’s one of those times when I’m almost freaked out by how tight everything was when I didn’t even realize it.

“Hey, Rare? Is that numbing thing still happening?” I ask flexing my wings a little bit. I’m sure I’m not numb anymore because I just realized I can feel my wings just fine. I just don’t remember her doing anything to mess with the spell on them.

“No. I finished removing it while you were doing dishes.”

“Really? How did I miss that?”

She giggles. “Yes, darling. That sort of thing is best done when the target isn’t paying attention. That way the pony in question isn’t even aware of the return of sensation, particularly the pain. You have been particularly accommodating in that regard as usual.”

“Huh, cool. Thanks.” It takes me a few seconds to really process all of what she said, by the time realize she was teasing me at the end about not paying attention it’s too late to do anything but glare at her for a second and watch her act like she can’t see me.

I don’t know why I thought there’d be bubbles in the tub, but there aren’t any. There are a few flowers floating around though. I want to hop in, but my wings are useless and I’m not Pinkie Pie, so that would just make a big mess.

“Would you like some help?” Rares asks.

“Nah, I can do it.”

“I know you can, darling,but you’re staring at it like it’s Froggy Bottom Bog. I promise it’s safe.”

“What did you put in it?” I sniff at the flowery smells that are all mixed together. If Applejack knew that I was this happy about getting in a tub that smelled like this, she’d never stop teasing me.

“A few oils to soothe and rejuvenate your muscles and coat and a few dried blossoms for fragrance. Nothing much. Don’t eat the flowers. Sweetie tried one once, despite the hilarity it was an awful experience for her.”

I nod and climb carefully into the tub. “Sweet Celestia! That feels good!” I hum and sink deeper into the water. It’s just the right temperature hot, but not uncomfortable.

“Rainbow?” Rare asks hesitantly.

“Yeah?”

“Would it be alright if I…” she takes a little breath, “held you for a little while?” For half a second it seems like she’s going to say more like she’s going to give me a bunch of reasons why I should be ok with telling her yes. Maybe, she decides that I already know the reasons; or maybe, she decides that she shouldn’t be trying to get me to do stuff right now. Either way, she quietly snaps her mouth shut instead of saying anything else.

All day, she’s been the only pony that genuinely made me feel like I could tell her not to touch me and she’d listen without getting offended. Nopony else acted like they could handle it. The others didn’t know what to do to help, so they did the obvious thing and kept hugging me. They tried to be brave, but I honestly don’t know what they would’ve done if I’d said that the one thing they kept doing to try and help me was freaking me out because then they would’ve had nothing to do.

Somehow, Rare already knew there was nothing she could do to help. All she could do was not make things worse. There wasn’t one time today where Rarity asked me to do anything. That’s kind of the reason I never wanted to tell Rarity no. She made sure I was taken care of and that I got where I needed to be. I did what I could and she covered the rest. Maybe the others would’ve done that if they had the chance, but today it was just Rarity. She stepped up to be my wingmare like she didn’t even have to think about it.

Now her voice sounds different than it has all day. It’s almost like I’m finally getting to see the Rarity I’ve always known. Like that pony that’s been holding me up all day is gone and now I just get to see my friend who is worried about me and wants to hug me and make sure I’m ok, just like all of the others. She’s been holding me off and on for most of the day, so it kind of surprises me she even feels like she needs to ask, but she is really asking. I can say no and she’ll listen. She probably won’t even make a face or anything.

“Sure, Marshmallow.” I shrug. “It’s no big deal.” I try to play off any possible weirdness that comes from thinking about cuddling with Rarity in a bathtub and sink a little deeper into the water.

“Thank you,” she exhales, then finishes taking the braids out of her mane and tail. Her hair is all crinkly and messy, but it still looks kinda good somehow because she’s Rarity.

When she’s done, I scoot forward so she can climb in behind me. Before I can lean back against her, she says, “Wait just a moment please.”

There’s a bowl thing with a little spout sitting on the side of the tub. It’s the grown-up version of a tub cup I’ve seen for washing foals. She fills it with water and then slowly pours the water on her head.

From the sounds she makes and the way her body relaxes, I’m guessing it must feel awesome. “Do I get a turn?” I ask.

“Of course, if you’d like one.” She fills the bowl again and warm water slowly pours down on my head. My eyes drift shut and I don’t even try to not make my own little happy noises while she does it. It’s literally the best feeling ever.

“Again?” she offers.

“Oh yeah.” I get doused a dozen times before she puts the cup down and leans against the back of the tub. It only takes me a second to get comfortably situated so I can relax my back into her chest and kind of rest my head on her shoulder and neck.

When I’m settled she gives me that questioning little look from last night, the one she gave me everytime she wanted to touch me; the super toned down version of the expression she had just barely when she asked if she could hold me. I nod and she gently, but firmly, wraps her hooves around me. I loop my forelegs around one of hers, holding it to my chest and starting to draw flight patterns on her cannon again. She lightly kisses the gash on my forehead above my swollen eye like a mom kissing an owie on a filly.

We both take deep breaths in the suddenly peaceful stillness. There’s no pressure to say anything or do anything, so I let my world shrink down to just being here and feeling safe and relaxed.

Maybe it’s because I’m facing away from her, or because after everything we’ve been through together in the past 24 hours taking a bath together just isn’t that weird, either way having her hold me doesn’t freak me out or feel awkward at all. It feels good. I feel like I can let go. I can break into pieces or let myself go numb, or let my brain go completely quiet because I know I’ll be ok. Rarity’s not going to judge me or let anything bad happen to me.

On a normal day, I could totally fall asleep like this- not that Rare and I would ever be hanging out together in a bathtub on a normal day. I don’t usually like baths very much, or I don’t think I do because they’re boring. It’s just sitting around doing nothing. Once in a while, after a crash or a really hard training session, the Wonderbolts trainer will tell me that I have to take a bath with salts and stuff to get my muscles to relax or something. It sucks because Twilight has that stupid rule about no library books by bathtubs, so I can’t even read. I just have to sit there.

This isn’t like that. This makes me think I finally understand why Rarity and Fluttershy go to the spa every week. Rare is always busy. She’s always got something to do. There’s always another customer asking her for something or another design that needs to be ‘simply fabulous’ by some impossible deadline that she never misses- no matter how much sleep she has to lose to get it done. Or, there’s some new friendship problem to help solve. But in a bath like this, all she has to do is be here and relax. That’s all she can do. It’s like a Rarity version of a nap and she usually only lets herself have that kind of a break once a week.

I close my eyes and remember the look on her face the second she walked out of that interrogation. I wonder how many times she’s had to throw up that wall of perfectly polite and perky prissiness to be able to do it so well even when she’s exhausted. It must have been a lot because I never really noticed it before. It’s a totally effortless thing for her.

I can’t even begin to try and count the number of times I’ve seen her do it, but it was never like today. I’ve never seen the mask crack before. Sure, there are times she doesn’t hold onto the whole cool, calm, and collected thing and she breaks out in that ridiculous sob of hers instead, wailing about ‘The Worst. Possible. Thing!’ Today, she was trying to be controlled and she almost lost it, because today was probably one of the worst damn days of her whole life.

Tears start rolling down my face because of what she’s going through. It’s my fault. She just had one of the worst days of her life because of me, and I can’t even say sorry because I’m so glad it was her that saved me. I never would’ve thought she’d be the one to help me through something like this, but now I can’t imagine asking anypony else to help me. I’d die for her if she needed me to, but now I’m the one having to ask her to do way more for me than either of us ever expected.

The worst part is that I know I’m not done putting her through hell to help me. She’ll do it too, and it will make her happy. She’ll keep stepping up to be whatever I need. If I need somepony to hold me, Rare will be there. If I need somepony to keep everypony else away so I don’t snap, she’ll put a ‘Sorry, We’re Closed’ sign on The Boutique and stand guard for me. I have no idea what exactly I’m going to need from her, but I know some of the stuff I might need will suck for her but she’ll do it with a smile on her perfectly made-up face.

She pulls me a little closer. “Do you want to talk about it?” she asks softly.

“You were awesome today,” I sniffle, “Thanks.”

“We did well, all things considered.”

“Did you lose your cool at all when they were questioning you?”

“Many times,” she answers. “None that they saw, of course. A lady mustn't reveal her distress at such times.”

I’ve never noticed the subtle sarcasm when she says stuff like that. Normally, I’d just roll my eyes at her but now that I’m keyed in on her masquerade habit, it’s easy to recognize. She obviously knows she’s being dramatic, which shouldn’t be surprising but it is. I always thought she just couldn’t stop herself from being all over the top, but now it’s pretty clear that she does it deliberately and I wonder why.

I give myself a minute to be quiet and feel bad as I think through other times where I should have noticed Rarity hiding stuff in all that pretentious crap, then I force myself to move on to something else- anything else. I can’t go back and make myself pay more attention to how Rarity said stuff. Even if I could, maybe she’s just being less careful now because of what happened and there wasn’t even anything for me to notice before.

“Rare,” I finally say after drawing another formation into her fur, “How good at magic are you really?”

She scoffs a little in my ear. “I’m no Twilight Sparkle, darling. With a little effort,” she muses, “I suppose I’m ever so slightly more gifted than the average unicorn.”

“Hearing you be modest is weird.”

“A lady is always modest, Rainbow.”

I roll my eyes but keep my retort to myself. “How did you know what to do to my wings at the hospital?”

“Oh, in preparation for our little adventures, I’ve taken a few basic medical magic courses.” She shrugs like being able to numb a pony’s wing better than trained medical ponies is no big deal. “Thankfully, we’ve never really needed to make use of that particular skill set. However, Sweetie and her friends have provided ample opportunities for practice. Scootaloo did some damage to her wing during one of their experiments a few years ago. That was the first time I tried that bit of magic on a pegasus. I didn’t do so well for her as I did for you, but the damage was must less severe.”

I slap a hoof over my good eye. “Shit! Scoots…”

“What’s wrong?” Rare tries to sit up, but I lean back to keep her where she is.

“Everything’s ok. I just need to figure out what I’m going to tell her and I need to talk to her tomorrow before she hears anything from anypony else.”

“Oh.” She relaxes back down into the tub. “Of course.” She pushes one of the little floating flowers around for a second. “Shall I invite her over for dinner? I’ll need to speak with Sweetie Belle as well.”

“Yeah. Might as well have Apple Bloom and AJ over too.”

I feel her nod. Then there’s a little pause where she starts running her hoof through my mane again. “Yes, I suppose that is a good idea. Without a doubt, Apple Bloom will have relayed the events of this morning to the others.”

“You don’t think AJ told her everything, do you?”

“I seriously doubt it. Applejack is fiercely protective of her sister. Apple Bloom has tremendous affection for her brother. I can’t believe Applejack or Granny Smith would have told Apple Boom of their suspicions until they could be absolutely certain they weren’t upsetting her unnecessarily.”

“I hope you’re right. Telling Scoots is going to suck bad enough without her being pissed off about finding out from anypony but me.”

“Indeed,” she mumbles.

We’re silent for a few minutes. I really don’t know what I’m going to say to Scootaloo. She isn’t a kid anymore, but she isn’t exactly a grown up either. I’d rather not tell her at all, but there’s no way to keep it from her without hurting her feelings. How am I supposed to tell her that I didn’t get away? How the hay am I supposed to explain when I don’t even understand it?

I keep playing it over and over in my mind. I should’ve taken off the second I got outside before Mac pushed off the wall. Or, I shouldn’t have been such a pansy and wanted to go around the corner to take off. Why in the hell did I care if he watched me take off? When he started crowding me, why didn’t I just go? It’s not like I’m known for being polite about my take offs. I’ve knocked plenty of ponies on their plots just because I wasn’t paying attention. So, why did I suddenly care so damn much?

“It was good of you to make peace with Applejack today,” Rarity says pulling me out of my tailspin of unanswerable questions.

“I guess.” I shrug. “It isn’t her fault everything is fucked up. I don’t blame her for anything.”

“Oh, I know you don’t, but you didn’t have to hug her. You endured a lot of physical contact you didn’t want today.”

I sink a little deeper into the water. It’s not like she’s wrong. I just don’t know what to say about it.

“I’m sure nopony apart from me noticed,” she reassures me. “Your secret is safe with me. Nopony would believe me if I told them you were being self-sacrificing anyway,” she teases. Then her voice gets serious again. “Although, I do wish you’d let yourself be a little more selfish about it. You have the right to tell them no if you need to, Rainbow.”

“Yeah, but sometimes it’s just easier to let them hug me and move on. Plus, it wasn’t like that with AJ.” It’s true. I hugged AJ. I didn’t just let her hug me. I’m not totally sure why the difference matters but it does.

“I suppose…” She lets the words drift off into nothing. Then she starts humming. Her hoof moves from my mane to wander aimlessly up and down my foreleg. It reminds me of something my mom used to do when we snuggled when I was a kid. She’d drag her hoof up and down my spine between my wings, making little patterns and stuff. It was one of the ways she got me to calm down before bed.

I focus on the feeling and Rarity’s humming. I don’t recognize the tune but it’s soft and soothing. I start to fall asleep. Dozing like I do when I know I don’t have much longer to sleep before I have to get up.

After a while, Rarity says something to me but I don’t really hear it. I just twist into her neck a little to get more comfortable. She giggles and smooches my head again, so I snuggle in even more. She flinches the tiniest bit when the back of my head rolls over the spot where I bit her.

“Sorry,” I mumble, quickly rolling my head back to where it was.

“There’s nothing to apologize for, Rainbow,” she quietly reassures me then starts humming again and I really drift off.

The sound of the drain plug being pulled wakes me up just enough to recognize the strange, comforting, tingling feeling of Rarity’s aura cradling me. It lifts me out of the tub and wraps me in a towel like a little foal.

“You’re going to be a good mom, Marshmallow,” I mumble because I’m not awake enough to filter. My eyes aren’t open, so I can’t be sure, but I think she smiles.

“Thank you, Rainbow,” she says after a beat. Then she says under her breath, “You’re very sweet when you think nopony is watching you.”

I’m not awake enough to think up a comeback, so I just kind of grunt.

Floating through the air by magic feels a little like being on a cloud. I’ve missed clouds. I think this is the longest I’ve ever gone without at least touching a cloud. “Rare?” I ask through my sleepy haze, “Can you just hold me like this for a while?”

“Of course.”

“It feels like clouds,” I hum snuggling into the feeling, “but tingly.”

She laughs a little. I can almost hear her roll her eyes at me and it makes me almost smile. “Sleep, darling.”

“K.”

I still don’t totally fall asleep though. I listen to her. She’s brushing her mane and her tail, quietly mumbling something about ‘a frightful state things.’ Water runs for a minute, I’m guessing that was her washing her face. There’s a spritz of something that smells nice, flowery but subtle. Then there’s a sandpaper kind of sound that I can’t figure out. I open one eye, realize it’s the one that’s basically swollen shut, and switch to the good one. The sound is a file. She’s buffing her hooves, which I’m just noticing are seriously chipped.

“What happened to your hooves?”

“I made my weekly trek to the gem quarry yesterday. I go every Wednesday,” she answers thoughtlessly, apparently not at all surprised that I’m awake but still fine with holding me in mid-air like a balloon on a string.

“That’s it?” I raise my eyebrow at her. “That’s some serious damage.”

“You’re one to talk. Have you seen your hooves lately?”

I ignore her. I’m remembering that she goes to the spa with Flutters on Thursdays. Sometimes, they don’t have enough time to do all their normal junk, and Rarity just gets a hooficure. That makes a lot more sense now. I didn’t know she went rockhounding every week though. Maybe that’s how she got all those muscles she used to tote me around like a purse last night.

She isn’t doing a great job with her hooves. She must have noticed a rough edge or something, because she just hits a few spots then switches files, picking up a smaller one with her forehoof. I expect her to set me down. I don’t know how I know a unicorn can’t file their horn while using their magic, but it is a thing I know. She just closes her eyes and makes her concentrated face for a minute. Then her horn goes out but I stay where I am. I’m awake enough now that I could probably stand up but I’m warm and still really liking the floating feeling, so I’m totally happy just to hang out and watch.

“Why do you do that?” I ask. I’ve never seen a unicorn file their horn before. Or, I’ve never paid attention to a unicorn filing their horn before. I’m pretty sure I’ve been around at the spa when Rare and Twilight had their horns done at least once.

“Hmmm?”

“To your horn,” I nod at it.

She stares at her horn in the mirror for a minute while she figures out how to answer my question. “I suppose it’s hygienically comparable to preening,” she explains. “The outer layers of a unicorn’s horn are protective, not conductive. When the outer layer becomes dirty or overgrown, it puts a damper on one’s ability to use their magic.”

That makes sense. Normally, I preen twice a day every day. If I don’t, then I can totally feel the difference.

“The innermost layer of the horn is called the root,” she continues, now actively tending to her horn and using the file to point at places as she explains them. “It’s a magical conduit that runs from the tip of the horn, through the brain, and into the heart. Trimming one’s horn too much can be incredibly painful and dangerous.”

“Kinda like breaking a wing?”

“Precisely. That said, allowing the tip of one’s horn to become overgrown may inhibit a unicorn’s ability to perform magic altogether. It’s important to buff the tip enough to remove outer protective layers, but leave the strong, conductive, more brilliant inner layers intact.”

“So, you file the tip until it’s shiny?”

“Correct.”

“What about the twisty part?”

“Oh that’s all style,” she grins.

“Which is why you can almost never see Twilight’s?”

“Ugh. Correct again. Unless she goes to the spa, which I can never convince her to do often enough,” she admits with a disappointed sigh. “She’s a princess for Celestia’s sake, she could make a bit more of an effort. Now Celestia, there’s a mare that knows how to make the most of the horn the Gods gave her.”

Knowing that it’s a style thing makes me look at Rarity’s horn differently. Obviously, she invests more time in how her horn looks than Twilight, but it’s really nothing fancy. I’ve seen some unis do some crazy shit to their horns.

“Did you ever meet Shaft?” I ask, thinking about one of the unicorn stallions in town.

“Oh, goddesses.” She facehoofs. “Yes.”

“I’m guessing you aren’t a fan?” I chuckle as I remember the bright green unicorn who keeps his horn groomed so the whole thing is super shiny and almost curly.

“He looks like an idiot,” she grumbles. “Grinding away at his horn like that isn’t just dangerous and stupid; it’s utterly in poor taste.”

It’s weird to hear her be so down on someone else’s style like that. I mean, Rare has her opinions. Usually, she’s more forgiving toward stuff she doesn’t agree with though. “Why is it dangerous? I thought you said the shiny part was extra strong.”

“At the tip, yes. Near the base, where the root is larger, the inner luminescent layers soften and the outer layers thicken. Shaft’s horn choices leave him very vulnerable. Celestia forbid, he bumps into a door or something in the middle of the night. He could kill himself at worst; at best give himself a most powerful migraine.”

“Really? Well, it’s never been a secret that Shaft wasn’t the brightest star in the sky.”

“That’s not even mentioning that he’s magically impotent when he’s groomed like that. Another reason for maintaining the opaque outer portion to come to a translucent tip is because it allows for magical focus.”

“You know that if you ever talk dirty like this to Twilight, she’s going to fall in love with you, right?”

“Poor dear,” she sighs with all her usual drama and a little shrug. “There’s just nothing to be done about that I’m afraid. Perhaps she can talk Fluttershy into some sort of triad arrangement. They are absolutely adorable together. I can’t say I’d complain.”

I laugh. “You’d be the fussiest herd I’ve ever seen.”

“Ugh,” she groans. “Herd. Well, there’s that fantasy ruined. Thank you very much. Poor Twilight, she’ll be so heartbroken.”

She leans in toward the mirror and bites her lower lip while she cuts in the fluting a little bit more. It looks like the kind of thing she’ll yell at me for screwing up, so I try to just be quiet and not distract her. For the first time since.... ever, I really look her horn.

Rare is my friend but I’m not blind. She’s hot. I noticed. Her horn was never a part of her hotness to me before though. It was just kind of there. Now I’m noticing it and it’s something that is just so Rarity- beautiful and powerful. Her horn is a part of her, just like my wings are part of me. Seeing her like this; just going through her routine without being so damn dramatic is awesome.

It’s like seeing somepony who obviously takes good care of their wings and not to show off or anything like that. They just do it because they’re proud to be pegasi and good wing care is part of that. Rare’s proud to be a unicorn. Taking care of her horn isn’t about being fussy. It’s about taking care of herself and being able to use her magic how she wants when she wants. Now that I’m actually taking the time to think about it, it’s easy to realize that I really respect that about Rarity.

“Are you alright?” she asks because I’m staring and not in a ‘staring off into the distance’ kind of way, but in a slightly dopey-eyed, admiring way that would make me look an idiot on a normal day and is just plain wrong today. Of course, she noticed but her tone isn’t awkward or weirded out or anything, but I suddenly feel guilty for looking at her like that. “Do you need anything?” she asks again gently when my expression drops.

“Nah.” I shake my head to get all the weird thoughts out. “I’m good. Just got caught up thinking about something. Sorry.”

“It’s fine, darling,” she says casually. If she noticed the look I was giving her a second ago, she’s giving me a pass and not asking me about it. “Now, are you ready to stand and get groomed like a good little filly?”

I blink my eyes and shake out my head again. She’s just teasing me about being lazy. I know that. She’s done the same thing a thousand times before. She isn’t hitting on me. It’s supposed to be a joke. So, why do I feel disappointed all of the sudden?

Maybe it’s because I can hear in my mind how she could have said those words. Not that she ever would have, because we aren’t like that. We never have been. She’s obviously not trying to be sexy or anything like that, because that would be totally messed up and so not us.

It would be weird to seriously think about Rarity like that even if some stallion hadn’t shoved his dick inside me and ruined my life yesterday, but for some reason I just had an image flash across my mind of how awesome life could be if we were like that; if I could have this safe, peaceful, and protected feeling with somepony I respect and trust all the time.

“Maybe we can just preen my wings and go to sleep.” I try for my normal cool voice, but it comes out all wrong. I’m getting weird feelings for a friend that’s just trying to help me. I’ve never been great at timing crap like that, but this is just so fucked up that I can barely handle myself.

“If you insist,” she says a little skeptical but she doesn’t push any more than that. She just floats me over to the bed and sets me down gently. “May I brush your mane?”

I almost tell her no, but I know it will feel good and maybe it will distract her from asking me anything about why I’m suddenly acting like somepony just drank the last of the cider before I got any. So, I nod. “Sure. Thanks”

She grabs a couple of brushes from her little desk thing then climbs onto the bed in front of me. She slips the little band on the back of the brush over her hoof and starts working the bristles through the ends of my hair. There aren’t nearly as many knots as I’m used to, but she’s being super careful anyway. She’s always been good about not pulling too hard when she does my mane for me. She kind of laughed at me the first time she helped me get ready for anything fancy, because that’s when she realized that I’m a total tender-head.

Fluttershy can handle having a brush yanked through the giant tangles that some of her critters make when they try to nest in her mane. Me? I hate getting my mane pulled. I always have. It’s one of the reasons I usually keep my mane shorter than most mares.

“Would you like to talk about what got you so downtrodden in the bathroom just a moment ago?” she asks in that off-hoof kind of way that makes it totally obvious she knows something’s up but she’ll pretend not to be interested if I say I’d rather not talk about it. That’s what I get for thinking this girly stuff would distract her. I should’ve remembered the thousands of sleepovers we’ve been to together where she used makeover time to double as gossip hour.

The difference is that this time I can tell that if I say no, there’s a decent chance she won’t push back like she normally would and try to get me to talk. I really don’t want to talk about it. There’s nothing I can say. Maybe if I’d had some weird moment of thoughts, or feelings, or whatever it was about somepony else then I could talk to her about it, but I don’t want to make things weird between us. So, I shake my head a little and say, “No. Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing, Rainbow,” she chides me. “You don’t owe me any explanations. Of course,” her voice lifts in a tantalizing little way, “if you decide you would like to talk about whatever it was, then I will be glad to listen.”

I chuckle at how much she obviously wants me to talk and smile appreciatively at the fact that she really will let me drop it for now. “Thanks, Marshmallow.”

She only shows her disappointment in the tiniest little pout, but it only lasts for a second, then she says, “You are very welcome. Now, are you sure you wouldn’t like your coat brushed? You know you’ll be all ruffed and fluffy and matted tomorrow if you don’t.”

Having her brush me felt really good earlier today, and I’m feeling pretty awake now so I’d really like it, but I’m still feeling kind of weird and I don’t want to take advantage of her or anything. “I just know you’re tired, Rares. I don’t want to wear you out.”

That was the wrong thing to say. She gasps a little and looks kind of offended for a second, but then she sighs and reaches for my hoof, which I give to her. “Rainbow, I need you to look at me and listen to what I have to say,” she says in her most serious tone. Even with everything that’s happened, it’s still a voice I’ve almost never heard her use, so I do what she says.

“Rainbow, please let me take care of you the best way I know how. I want to do it. I will never forgive myself if I ever do less than that for you. I know the situation is strenuous, but I desperately want you to believe me when I say that there is nothing you could ask of me that I wouldn’t willingly and happily give.

“Perhaps it is selfish of me to want to be the pony that assists and cares for you through all of this, but it’s how I feel. Going through this together makes me feel better. I truly hope it does for you too, but if not then-”

“Then nothing, Rare,” I cut her off, then wait for a second for her to get on my case for being rude, but she doesn’t say anything. She just waits. “It makes me feel better too,” I admit. Random weird thoughts or no, Rarity is still the only thing that really makes anything feel any better right now. There’s just no point in pretending that isn’t true.

Her shoulders relax from a tension I didn’t notice before. Maybe she was really worried that I’d tell her I can just take care of myself and that I don’t need her help. I can’t blame her for worrying about that. Any other day, that’s exactly what I would have said.

“I’m sorry for what happened earlier,” she says after a few seconds pause.

“For what?” I ask too loudly because I’m surprised she’s apologizing to me when she hasn’t done anything wrong.

“My question about your sleeping preference,” she explains, “I fear you misunderstood me and I want to be clear about something. I want you here- with me- not just here in The Boutique but here.” She waves around the room. “This is my sanctuary from the world and you are welcome for as long as you wish to stay.”

I pull her into a hug and squeeze her as hard as I can. She wraps her hooves around me too gently. “You won’t break me, Rare.”

“You’re already broken, darling,” she says with a fake little laugh that totally fails to hide the sadness and worry behind the words.

“So, you won’t make it worse by hugging me like you mean it,” I snap back and squeeze her a little tighter.

“What if I already am?” she teases a little more genuinely.

“Bullshit. Now, mare up and hug me, Marshmallow.”

She takes a big breath and leans into me. It’s the best hug I’ve ever had. Rarity hugs me with her whole body and my broken, bruised, and battered body answers back perfectly. She’s soft like Fluttershy, but strong like Applejack, and she squeezes me in all the right places to make me smile just like Pinkie (although it’s different places when Pinkie hugs me). We fit together like feathers meant and made to fly next to each other and that feeling from earlier when I was looking at her comes back. The happy one when I realized how awesome she is.

“Better?” she asks.

“It’s not bad,” I hum happily into her shoulder.

She squeezes a little harder for a second then relaxes. “Well, I’ll work on it. Now, release me and come to the bathroom. Your coat is a mess.”

“Fine. Whatever.” I know I could say no, but why try? She’s right about my coat, so I let her go and follow her into the bathroom where she’s grabbing way more stuff than she should be. “Are you going to turn me into a pickle or something?”

The look she gives me is priceless. She says, “I’m not certain. I haven’t ruled it out, but I don’t think I have the proper product for it.”