My head slams into something solid and huge, like a huge concrete wall. The force keeps moving forward through me and my neck twists to the side, so my spine doesn’t snap like a twig, clearing the way for my chest to crash into the brutally hard thing too. All of the air inside me is forced to leave. It rips its way from my lungs, blasting painfully out through my mouth and nose in one ragged gasp.

There’s a tiny second of relief and freedom where the pressure stops and I’m not crushed against the wall, but it’s followed by a slam of brute force and a burning pain that travels from my tail, up my spine, radiating out to the tips of my wings and back, then up through every tiny corner of my brain.

The only sounds are the crunching of my bones every time I’m slammed; the painful, agonized gasp that escapes everytime the air is forced out of me; the low grunts and ragged breathing of a stallion rutting himself senseless; and the slap of huge powerful hips thrusting into me and ripping me apart again and again and again.

Every instinct screams that I have to fly. I have to break away and get the hell out of here. My wings strain under an impossibly heavy and immovable weight that’s pinning them out flat. No matter how I try to twist and pull them free, they aren’t going anywhere. The bones start to crack and the muscles shred the harder I try.

There’s a low, delighted, unfamiliar laugh. “Ha, I heard you flyin’ ponies’ wings go all crazy when you get it good,” the voice says. The hot breath leaves a disgusting wet feeling on my ear and I try to flick it away. The voice just laughs again. “I told you that you'd like a stallion.”

I try to scream, but my neck is stretched and twisted so far and the seconds I have to try and suck in air are so short that I’m barely able to breathe enough to not pass out. I try to buck him off, but he’s too big. He’s like a house. Even if I could throw him off my back, he’d still have that giant sword of force shoved inside me to the hilt.

“Good girl,” he whispers and nips my neck so hard that I feel blood start to trickle. “You go ahead and buck back. S’more fun that way.”

It’s so tempting to just give up, to just let him finish and leave me alone to die.

“No!” my mind screams at me. Rainbow Dash doesn’t quit! I scramble for anything I can do to make it all stop. My hooves land on something soft. It’s the first thing it’s felt like I can really push off of, so I kick off as hard as I can and scream, “Get off me!”

There’s a shattering crash and I suddenly have enough space to breathe and look around, but I’m tangled in something. I still hear the voice saying, “Shut up and take it like a mare, Rainbow Dash!” as I scramble to free myself and get my bearings.

Why the hell is Rarity here? Why is she on the ground?

I jump and my wings spring out painfully from my sides with an aching series of cracks. I’m literally standing over her and shielding her from view. I don’t know where he went, but I won’t let him do that to Rarity. I won’t. I’ll die before I let anything happen to her.

The raw presence of a stallion is still here. I can hear him breathing. I can almost feel it on my ear again. I know he’s here. I just can’t see him.

I turn in frantic, clumsy circles looking for him. I accidentally step on Rarity a couple of times and hear her squeak in pain. She’ll forgive me though when she understands.

She’s trying to say something, but I can’t understand it. I hear him telling me how good I feel on the inside, and how much I must be enjoying myself because I’m all wet for him, just the way a good mare is supposed to be.

“I’m not a good mare!” I scream into the darkness. “I’m a hoof-riding, gash-licking, filly-fooler! Now get the hell away from us!”

Then I hear Rarity yelling in my memory. “Get the hell off of her!”

The shower. Twilight. Fluttershy. The police station. Pinkie. The hospital. Applejack. A bloody pile of broken feathers. Rarity.

Sweet Celestia!

I look down. Rare is covering her head, crying, and pleading, “Please wake up. Please, Rainbow. Please wake up. It’s over now. You’re safe, just please wake up.”

I move so I’m not standing over her anymore and stare down at her for a second. She keeps cowering like she hasn’t noticed yet that I moved. I lower myself slowly to lay in front of her and whisper, “I’m awake, Rare. Sorry.”

She lowers her hooves and looks at me. “Truly, you’re awake?” her voice quavers and I nod. “May I?” she asks with that look that’s becoming way too familiar. I nod again she quickly wraps her forelegs around me. I’m afraid to hug her back. I don’t want to hurt her anymore.

“Oh darling, I didn’t know how to wake you! You started thrashing and screaming. I tried, but I think perhaps I made it worse. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s ok, Rares,” I whisper into her mane as we both cry. “I’m ok.”

We breathe in unison for a few breaths and she strokes my mane. “Are you alright?” I ask, my voice even more raspy than usual.

“I’ll be fine,” she says with a bright little clip in her voice that I don’t trust one little bit.

“Let me see the damage,” I say, pulling back to look at her. The room is dark. There isn’t enough moonlight to see anything except her outline. We just sit there in the dark. Me staring at her, waiting for her to turn the light on, and her looking off into a corner or something. “Rare?” I demand, “Let me see.”

“It’s nothing, darling.”

“Then turn on the light and let me look.”

“The light is broken,” she says simply and way too innocent.

“I know that wasn’t the only lamp in the room,” I answer looking around. She still doesn’t turn a light on. Her horn doesn’t even light up like she’s going to try.

“Rarity,” I say with a serious edge. It’s the last warning I’m giving her before I get up and destroy shit to try and find the damn light switch. Her horn glows for a second, she winces a little, and the lights come on.

The blood drains from my face and I feel my body go cold. Her face is ok from what I can see, but she has two hoofprints square on her chest from where I pushed her. They’re already starting to bruise.

“Dammit. Rarity, I’m sorry.” I crumble in front of her and let another flood of tears start rolling down my face as I keep muttering my worthless apologies.

She lays her head on my back and instantly starts soothing me. “Shh, Dashie,” she whispers, “It was an accident, darling. I’m alright.”

Through my tears and guilt, instinct takes over and my muzzle reaches for the place I hurt her. My tongue rolls over the spot trying to sooth it. She flinches a little but doesn’t pull away. So, I keep going. Letting my tongue try to heal the hurt places.

Every few seconds I mumble again that I’m sorry. When her chest is soggy with my spit, I move up to the place where I bit her earlier and do the same thing. I’ve never groomed or been groomed like this before. Part of my brain is kinda weirded out by it and even more weirded out that Rarity of all ponies is letting me do it. But, since that first flinch, she hasn’t really reacted at all. She’s just laying with her head on my back letting me do my thing. So, I just focus on the body in front of me: her smell, the smooth feel of her coat against my tongue, the ridges of the bruises I can feel forming. I keep going until some ancient thing in my brain says that I’m done. Then, I nuzzle each bruise as softly as I can and lay my head on her forehooves.

“Sorry, Rares,” I say one more time.

“It’s alright, darling,” she says sweetly. “Thank you for tending to me. That felt lovely.”

“Really?” I can’t stop my eyebrow from quirking up. Luckily, I remembered to use the good eyebrow this time.

“Mmhmm,” she hums.

“Weird.”

“I’m sure there’s some biological reason for it, but I’d rather not bother with it right now,” she says lifting her head to look around. “Shall I clean up this mess, so we can try and go back to sleep?”

“I’ll clean it up, Rare. It’s my fault.”

“Nonsense. It’s nopony’s fault.”

There’s a pause where we both just look around at the shards of glass and other chunks of the broken lamp. “I don’t know if I can sleep,” I admit with my ears folded back. “What if it happens again?

“Then I shall be here.” She nuzzles me. “And we shall get through it. Tomorrow we can send a letter to Princess Luna and ask her to watch your dreams a bit more closely. If you simply can’t sleep tonight, then perhaps you’d like to read. I believe Spike included a Daring Do novel in the pile of books he brought over.”

“Reading sounds good.”

She pulls away and tries to cover up a wince by giving me a convincing little half-smile. “Do you need some ice or something?” I ask.

“No, thank you.” She looks around at the mess again and sighs.

“What?”

“Just bracing myself.”

“For what?”

“Well, with this bump on my head, cleaning up may smart a bit, but I’d rather spend the next half hour in my bed with a book than tidying.”

“I’ll get it,” I say standing. “Seriously, it’s no big deal. I’m wide awake anyway. It’ll give me something to do. Where’s a broom?” I can see in her face that she wants to argue with me, so I glare at her. She glares back for a second, then lets go of a bigger sigh and gives in. If things weren’t so messed up, I’d make some snarky comment about how I’ve never beat her in one of these starting contests before, but even I know that now is a bad time for that sort of thing. I still let myself feel a little flicker of pride though.

“In the pantry,” she says and I walk toward the door. “There’s a switch at the top of the stairs for the lights,” she calls after me.

“Thanks,” I say over my shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”

Getting down the stairs takes forever. My backend is not happy I jumped out of bed. My wings are screaming at me for flaring them open like I did. My hooves ache for Celestia only knows what reason. So, every single step makes me wince and I have to suck in a deep breath before I take another one.

Being in the dark alone in Rarity’s boutique at night is freaky. That uni must have nerves of steel. Not many ponies live in this part of town, so it’s crazy quiet sometimes. But, the Boutique creaks and the windows rattle just a little when the wind blows.

Finding the broom and dustpan is easy, even with one eye almost swollen shut. Normally I’d tuck them under my wings to carry them up the stairs, but that’s not gonna work. So, I slide them onto my back and keep the handles pinched between my shoulder and cheek. It’s awkward and uncomfortable, but it works.

When I get back upstairs, I find Rarity picking up the bigger chunks of broken glass in her teeth and putting them in a garbage can. “I said I’d do it, Rare.”

“And so you shall,” she says absently and picks up another piece for the garbage can. “I was just keeping busy until you got back.”

How does she do that? Sound so innocent when she’s so guilty. It’s not like Fluttershy or even Pinkie. Those two really are innocent all the time. That’s how they are. Rare, on the other hoof, always knows exactly what she’s doing and manages to get away with shit anyway. Somehow, she gets everypony to think she’s some damsel in distress, even when everypony knows that totally isn’t true.

She steps out of the way and starts straightening the bed, while I clean up the mess. After I’ve swept the rest of the shards of glass and broken lamp parts into a pile, I look over and see something I didn’t before. A red trickle running down her neck. There’s blood in her mane. She must have smashed through the lamp with the back of her head and got cut.

“Rare.” I try to keep my voice calm but there’s a definite edge of worry in it that’s totally uncool. “You have blood in your mane.”

“I am aware, darling,” she says perfectly calm and in control. “Thank you for noticing. I plan to wash it out in a moment.”

I stop sweeping my pile into the dustpan in mid-stroke to stare at her. “You feeling ok?” I ask.

She stops what she’s doing to look back at me. “A little headache.” She shrugs. “But nothing to be dramatic about. Why do you ask?”

“Because I just told you that you have sticky, yucky, icky, dried blood in your mane.” I use my best Rarity voice for that part. “And all you said was that you know. You’re not a changeling, are you? Because that’d be some messed up shit that I just can’t handle right now. So, if you are a changeling, you need to up your game buddy.”

We both laugh. I really can’t believe that she isn’t freaking out about having a bleeding head wound or a messy mane right now. I just bucked her out of bed onto her plot and she’s just acting like it’s no big deal. No drama. Just cleaning up the mess.

The little flame of worry and stress that’s been burning in the back of my mind flickers and dies. She isn’t mad at me. She isn’t treating me like I need to go the hospital or stay somewhere else. I’m still safe here. She’s still got me.

“You gonna shower?” I ask when I get back from putting the broom away.

“I was hoping to avoid it,” she sounds so tired. “Do you mind helping me? I think we may be able to rinse out the worst of it and deal with the rest in the morning.”

“I’ll help but you’re really going to have to do a better Marshmallow impression tomorrow. Nopony will believe a Rarity that’s willing to sleep on a dirty mane.”

“Thank you for the tip,” she snarks back on her way to the bathroom.

She grabs the bowl with the spout and sets it in the sink to fill. Then leans her head over the tub. I pour the water over her head and hear her gasp. I can’t see the cut, but the water has more blood than I thought it would. I put the bowl down.

“Let me look at that. I think you might need stitches.” I wish I could use a wingtip for this; it would be a lot softer than my hoof. Rares takes it like a champ though, letting me paw around in her mane until I can really see where the blood is coming from.

“Shit.”

“What’s wrong, Rainbow?” Rarity asks calmly.

“You have a chunk of glass sticking out of the back of your head,” I answer and step back. “I’m so sorry, Rares.”

I’m trying to keep it together but I can’t handle this. She’s been awesome. She’s done everything I needed, without me having to ask. She’s the one pony I really feel safe with, and now she has a bleeding head wound because I’m a traumatized pain in the flank that can’t even sleep without causing her problems. And she isn’t even mad at me for it.

“Dash.” Of course, she still sounds perfectly calm and in control. Of course, she does. It’s helpful, but it makes me even more guilty and pissed at myself. “Dash, you have got to calm down,” she says in her serious voice with her head still dipped down into the tub. “I do not want to go back to that wretched hospital tonight. Please, take a breath and listen to me. Has the bleeding stopped?”

I take three big breaths then look back at her head. “Yeah, mostly.”

“Alright, how big is the piece of glass?”

“I don’t know. I can’t really tell. Sorry.”

“It’s alright, darling,” she keeps her voice even. “Is it wider than a needle is long?”

“No. It’s more like the width of a button.”

“What type of button, darling?” she asks like I’m obviously supposed to know how many different kinds of buttons there are.

“I don’t know! A regular sized one. Like the ones on my dress uniform.”

“The gold ones or the blue ones?”

“Blue.”

“Oh, well then, that isn’t so bad. Is there any indication of how deep it is?”

I don’t answer for a few seconds as a horrible thought races through my brain and almost makes me lose my cool again. “Rarity?” I ask carefully.

“Yes, darling.” Same calm voice.

“If it’s deep enough, could it be touching the root thingy that runs from your horn, through your brain, and into your heart?”

“It’s located exactly in line with my spine?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

She sighs. “Well then, yes darling. It’s possible, but not likely. In that location, it would have had to go through my skull and brain to reach the root. I have a headache, but nothing to indicate something that serious. I merely asked to determine if I thought you could pull it out by hoof, or if we ought to try something else.”

Well, the root thing is a relief at least. “No way am I trying to pull that out with my hooves,” I say.

“Honestly, Rainbow, does a little blood bother you?” There’s a hint of teasing, but mostly it sounds like she might be getting irritated. Not that I blame her.

“Stuff it, Marshmallow,” I snap. “My hooves suck for this kind of stuff. I use my wings to do detailed stuff and they’re fucking useless right now.”

“What about your mouth?” she counters more calmly. “There’s a pair of tweezers inside the vanity mirror that should do nicely.”

“I’ll never be able to see it and use the tweezers at the same time. I can try using my mouth though. You’re gonna have to lay down, you’re too tall and it’ll help if you can hold really still.”

We both ease ourselves down onto the bathroom floor. She’s in front of me with her forehead resting on my forehooves, her horn isn’t quite poking me in the chest. I have to move some of her hair again. I should have got some gauze or something to clean her up, because the wound is still oozing, but there’s nothing around.

I have an idea; maybe it should gross me out, but it doesn’t. “You know that licking thing I was doing earlier?” I ask.

“Yes,” she sounds confused.

“Umm, well, I think I’m going to do that again. It’s a mess back here, and I can’t really see anything. Plus, I think it will it come out smoother if there isn’t a bunch of blood and gunk around it.”

“Are you sure you’re alright with that?” She sounds like she might not be totally alright with it. “I’m certain I can find something to clean it out with.”

My first aid training from Wonderbolts camp finally kicks in and I look around again. Like most ponies, Rares keeps a mint plant in her bathroom. It’s a tasty way to deal with morning breath, which I don’t care about right now. Mint disinfects and soothes pain. The best part is that I can reach the plant from my spot on the floor.

“It’s cool, Rares,” I say with more awesomeness than I’ve felt since I woke up, because now I have a plan. “Pony spit is good for helping cuts and stuff heal, plus I know a way to help make sure it doesn’t get infected. So, we good?”

She fidgets for a second, then sighs, and just lays there. I guess that means we’re good.

I’m about to start cleaning her up when the world stops for a second, and I just take in the weirdness. Rares is laying on the bathroom floor bleeding. I’m about lick the back of her head, which is resting in between my forelegs, because my wings are so messed up that I can even try and use them. I have no idea what’s going on her head to make her ok with this, but in my head, there’s just a lot of wanting to take care of her and fix the mess I made.

So, I start on her mane. Blood tastes weird, but not bad. I keep expecting to get grossed out, but I don’t. I’m trying to be soft and careful. I really don’t want to hurt her any more than I already have. This feels kind of like preening, which makes me realize that she has basically done the same thing for me every time she’s preened my wings. I close my eyes and remember the piles of broken, bloody feathers she gently pulled for me and the broken shafts of feathers she licked and soothed until they stopped bleeding. That makes it a little less weird.

I work my way toward the cut, cleaning the blood from her mane and pushing it aside. I never see the actual target, but it’s easy to feel with my lips. I breathe a sigh of relief when I realize that it’s not very deep. Then grunt a little in frustration because the angle is weird.

I try just pulling the glass with my lips, but I can’t get a grip on it. So, I try pressing my mouth around it and kinda sucking to get it to pop out. That works better, but it’s still in there. I feel around my tongue and my lips for another couple seconds. There’s just no way around it; I have to bite her. I do the thing with my lips around it again, and then kinda grind my teeth back and forth to work it out of her. Finally, I feel it pop onto my tongue, along with some more blood.

Quickly, I pull my face away and spit the glass into the sink. Then I bite a few leaves off her mint plant, peppermint. Not my favorite, but not bad, and definitely the best for this. I chew the leaves for a couple seconds, then lean forward and use my tongue to press the cud into cut. She sighs in relief.

“How’s that?” I ask without pulling away.

“It’s simply divine, darling. Very soothing. Thank you.”

I let my lips brush the spot lightly one more time before I pull away. “I’m glad it worked.”

We both stand up, and I finally get a good look at the piece of glass. It isn’t as big as it felt in my mouth. Rares kinda sways when she sees it.

“You ok?” I ask and move next to her so she can lean on me. She looks terrible. She’s looked pretty rough off an on through all of this, at least compared to how she usually looks. Right now, I think she looks even worse than I do. “Did you sleep at all before I bucked you out of bed?”

She tosses her head a little to bring herself out of the funk, then stands a little straighter and walks away. “I’m fine,” she answers totally dodging my question. “Thank you for asking. Now, let’s get some rest.”

I don’t say anything, but I grit my teeth and follow her. She hasn’t slept in… a long damn time, and I know it. But, I know that tone. There’s no point in calling her out about it. The only answer is to wait for a chance to do something.

I follow her into the bedroom. She’s pulling the Daring Dobook out from the middle of the pile of psychology books or whatever Spike brought. I’m not even sure I want to read it anymore. I don’t want to risk falling asleep and beating her up on accident.

She opens the drawer on the nightstand and pulls out the sketchbook from earlier and a pencil.

“You have got to be shitting me,” I huff and glare at her. “You aren’t even going to try to sleep?”

“There’s no point in staring at me like that,” she answers without looking at me. I walk over and climb up on the bed. I plop down into my spot with a “Hmph” that turns into a whimper and a little groan. I really need to remember that I’m in no condition to plop down on anything.

She has the sketchbook open to a blank page in front of her. She hasn’t started drawing yet though. She’s just staring at it with that heavy look in her eyes. Whatever she’s seeing in her brain isn’t something she wants to draw right now.

“You need to sleep, Rares,” I say before I pull the DD book over to me.

“I’m sure I will, darling. Not to worry. A lady does need her beauty sleep.” There’s a layer of sarcasm coating the last part.

“Don’t bullshit me, Rarity. I’m just going to be sitting here reading. I promise it’s ok to sleep.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”

She just stares at the blank page in front of her again. I don’t know what to do. Is that what I look like when I drift off and feel it all happening all over again. Is that what’s happening for her? She looks like she’s seeing something that isn’t even there.

I reach over and touch her cheek, which startles her.

“Please, Dashie,” she says with a tired, pleading in her voice. “I don’t want to talk about it. We’ve both been through enough for now.”

“Later?” I ask quietly.

“Later.” she nods.

“Promise?”

She doesn’t say the words, but I know a Pinkie Promise when I see one and that’s good enough for me. I pull my hoof back and scoot close enough that our sides are touching. Then I start reading. I’ve read this one before but that’s ok.

“Rainbow Dash?”

“Princess Luna?” I look around the dark expanse of stars where I’m floating with my perfectly healthy wings beating at my sides. I fold them in and land with a soft thud on the non-existent ground. “Shit. I fell asleep again, didn’t I?”

“Yes, Rainbow Dash. Was that not your intention?” Luna says a little confused. “You will not be forced to face the same dream as before, I assure you. I have been awaiting for your return that I might apologize for my negligence. I had been on watch for you to enter the dreamscape, but each time you approached your mind protected itself, and I was not needed. I became distracted by the dreams of another and did not observe your fall into the malicious nightmare until it was too late. My deepest and most sincere apologies, brave Rainbow Dash.”

“It’s cool, Princess. I’m not the only pony in Equestria having bad dreams.”

“Tis true. However, yours is a trauma that very much warrants additional protection. T’was an inexcusable failing,” she mutters the last bit at the not-ground with her ears folded flat against her head.

“Seriously, Princess. It’s ok. I mean, Rarity has a big gash on her head now, but I think she’s gonna be ok.”

Luna looks confused again.

“I kinda shoved Rares out of bed because of the dream. Her head crashed through a lamp.”

“You’re sharing a bed with Lady Rarity?” She looks blankly around at the space in front of her like it’s going to show her something. “I was not aware of your relationship.”

“She’s just helping me out. We aren’t together like that.” I meant to make it sound like no big deal, but it didn’t work. Maybe it’s impossible to try and cover up stuff like that here.

“Tis a confusing time, Rainbow Dash,” she says with a shake of her mane and a reassuring smile. Then she refocuses her eyes on me. “Does her presence soothe you?”

“Yeah.” I shrug. “I don’t know why, but it’s the only thing that does.”

“Then it seems appropriate to allow yourself the indulgence for the time being. I can stop the dreams from plaguing you in sleep, but the underlying memories may find their way into your waking hours. Feelings and memories cannot be held at bay indefinitely without consequence. Having an anchor to peace and healing in the waking world may prove essential to your recovery, Rainbow Dash. Assuming Rarity is willing.”

“She’s in.”

Luna nods.

“Hey, Princess, can you tell if she’s asleep right now?”

Luna closes her eyes for a few minutes. Then shakes her head. “She’s not to be found in the dreamscape. She seems to be very much awake, watching over you.”

I sigh.

“This displeases you?”

“She hasn’t slept. If she doesn’t sleep tonight that will be two nights in a row. She found me, Luna. As it was happening. She saved me. The stupid guards put her through hell today, then at the hospital she… stayed with me.”

“You fear that when she sleeps she may also find herself lost in terrible memories?”

“Yeah. Do you mind keeping an eye open for her? Helping her too?”

“Of course, Rainbow Dash.”

“Thanks, Princess.”

“Would you like to wake now and check on her?”

“Yeah, if that’s a thing you can do.”

She smiles like I would smile if someone asked me if I could fly. She might as well say “Duh!”

“I shan’t fail you again, Rainbow Dash,” she assures me again. “You need not fear to sleep for your dreams.”

“Thanks, Princess.”

“I believe my sister shall be visiting you during the coming day or the day following. Perhaps I shall accompany her, that we may continue our conversation.”

“Sure, that’d be cool.”

She nods again. “Farewell, Rainbow Dash.”

I don’t really wake up all the way. Just enough to feel Rarity’s warmth next to next to me. She’s so soft. It’s tempting to just let myself go back to sleep. She must have put a blanket on me at some point because I’m warm and cozy. A fading part of my brain makes a note to be mad at her when I wake up for using her magic when she has a headache.

I can hear her pencil scratching. I wonder how long I’ve been asleep. It’s really hard to stay awake. I try to open my eyes, but it doesn’t work.

She nuzzles my neck. “Sleep, Dashie. It’s alright.”

“Hypocrite,” I try to say but it’s just a grumpy mumble. I roll onto my side and pull her to me. She giggles and nuzzles me gently. Maybe I can snuggle her to sleep.