The dawn came slowly for Rarity.

She had barely moved since Rainbow Dash’s parting words. Her arm, still outstretched, lay across the rumpled and torn bedspread. In her mind she saw Dash’s huddled form staring at her, ready to reach out and grasp her hoof like a drowning mare to be pulled from the waters. Her scent – sweat and feathers and the ozone tang of a thunderstorm – teased Rarity’s mind. If she closed her eyes she could pretend they were together, leaning against each other, legs intertwined, hot breath mingling between muzzles just a hair’s breadth apart. Two bodies with one shadow, taking courage from each other in defiance of the enormous, all-devouring night.

But she could not close her eyes. They were open and stared at the empty bed. Her heart murmured weakly in her breast, and a great hollow void filled her body, as if some uncaring god had scooped away her viscera and left only a pony’s shell. She did not cry, though some distant part of her mind insisted that she should. She felt, simply, nothing.

Time passed in this way, until the darkness outside her window surrendered to the grey light of dawn, and Rarity could no longer pretend that Dash was about to walk back in the door. Without realizing it, they had passed some critical threshold, before which existed friendship, beyond which only ashes and regret.

Dash was not coming back.

The grand effort was over.

She had failed.

No, you didn’t fail. You never had a chance.

At last, she wept.

Sweetie Belle was waiting for her when Rarity finally made it down the stairs.

There was no lavish breakfast underway this morning. The stove was cold and all the dishes were still in their shelves. The old wood table she had played on as a foal, a gift from her parents when she moved out of the house, was bare. Her sister, her mane and coat still rumpled, sat on a cushion in the dim unlit kitchen and watched in silence as Rarity approached.

Rarity paused at the sight, one hoof still held in the air. Nopony was supposed to see her like this, with a frazzled mane, coat matted with sweat, still stinking of fear, her eyes red, and with trails streaked by tears running down her muzzle. She should have stayed upstairs, collected herself, and used her brush and makeup and magic until nopony could see the cracks in her mask. They would only see the pony they expected, the perfect, flawless porcelain siren who stunned stallions and drew envious glances from mares. A mare who oozed glamour, whose breathed fashion, who reeked of high places and money and sex, yes sex, because no matter how much they might feign innocence, ponies – from Celestia and Luna on down to the filthiest back-alley tail-lifter – ponies were still animals, and those base urges drove them more than any charioteer’s cracking whip ever could. It would be so easy to turn back, to go upstairs and don the mask she had worn for years, the mask she now felt naked without.

“Rarity?” Sweetie asked. Her voice was quiet, in deference to the still morning. “Are you… is
everything alright?”

“Of course,” Rarity’s words came without thought. “I’m afraid I don’t sleep well in this weather, is all. Just a little too chilly, even with the covers, and I—“

“I heard you,” her sister interrupted. “I heard you both. Dash walked right past my door.”

Rarity’s mouth shut with an unladylike crack of teeth. For a long moment they stared at each other, until finally Sweetie looked away.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop on you. But I heard yelling, and…”

Rarity let out a long breath. “No, don’t apologize. We, ah, we had an argument, and… well, you heard. She left. She just… left.” And with that, the false bravado fled from Rarity’s body. Her shoulders slumped, and she sat on the seat opposite from Sweetie Belle.

To top it all, her foreleg still hurt, just above the knee. The bone ached in time with her pulse, as it must have for Rainbow Dash, all through the funeral and the months beyond. She stared at it, mute, until her sister’s leg settled over her shoulders, and her warm weight leaned against her side.

“I’m sorry,” Sweetie whispered again, Rarity’s admonition notwithstanding. “Do you mind if I ask what happened? Things seemed to be going well.”

Rarity mulled over her thoughts before answering. “They were, but they weren’t. She was getting better, eating more, smiling, laughing… did you know she even flew the other day? She practically swore it off after the accident, but the other day she put on an airshow, just for me.”

Sweetie gave her a little squeeze. “Yeah, we all noticed. You should’ve seen Scootaloo after that day we played hoofball. She was so happy to have the old Dash back.”

Rarity nodded. “And she was back, during the day, at least. But at night… Sweetie, she’s still haunted. She has dreams about it.”

Cinders drifted on furnace winds. Rarity shivered and leaned against Sweetie’s side. She could still see the dream – she could still smell it.

Sweetie twisted her head to look Rarity in the eyes. “She talked to you about them?”

“She, ah…” Rarity swallowed. “Something like that, yes. She shared them with me.”

“Mhm. And all these nights you’ve been in bed together, did she share anything else with you?”

The old Rarity would have flushed at the suggestion. Now, after years in Fillydelphia and a dozen far more scandalous liaisons beneath her belt, it barely warranted a roll of her eyes. “Sweetie, please, we’re just friends.”

“Liar.” Sweetie jabbed her in the ribs with an elbow. “You think none of us have noticed? Spending all your time with one another, visiting town together, sleeping in the same bed, for Celestia’s sake… There’s something going on there.”

“Well, ah…” Rarity’s tongue failed her, and she trailed off in a weak mumble before propriety sailed to the rescue and mercifully sealed her lips. The awkward silence dragged on, and for an unusual moment, Rarity looked back at her life with an honest eye. Not her whole life, or even the past few years – it was too early in the morning for such brutal self-appraisal, but she remembered the moments with Dash in her arms, the kiss they exchanged, and the comfort she drew from the warm pegasus by her side all the dark night long. The giddy, girlish glee she felt from seeing Dash happy.

Sweetie gave her a little squeeze. “Well?”

“Well… maybe I’ve gotten a little… infatuated, perhaps. There’s just something about her, Sweetie, I can’t explain it. She a terribly crude pony, you know. Brash, vulgar, boastful. But if you suffer through all that, you get to see the pony beneath. She’s vulnerable, and thoughtful, and you know she would do anything for you. She would die for us, if for some terrible reason she had to. She would lay her life down for us and not even think twice. Perhaps that’s why the accident was so hard on her. She wishes she had died instead of him, and now every living moment is a reminder of that failure.”

Sweetie nodded silently through Rarity’s ramblings. “And how does she feel about you?”

“Now?” Rarity let out a long sigh. “Now, I think I’ll be lucky if she ever speaks to me again.”

“Oh… that bad?”

“Yes, that bad. Sweetie, listen to me. I don’t know how serious you are with that colt-friend of yours,” Sweetie’s sudden blush answered that question, “but never betray his trust. Please.”

Now it was Sweetie’s turn to be tongue-tied. “I, uh, we’re just, you know. Just friends.”

“Mm.” In another time, Rarity would have loved nothing more than to pry all the gossipy details out of Sweetie. That, after all, was what older sisters were for. But the phantom ache in her leg and the smoldering pain in her chest pushed away those the old sibling rules, and she was just a heartbroken mare leaning against her sister in the dim predawn light.

Heartbroken. Bet you never thought you’d feel like that again. Rarity winced, and Sweetie shifted against her.

“You okay?”

“Yes, just…” She let out a shaking breath. “I’m just… I need to go for a walk. If you’ll excuse me, dear.” With that she stood, brushed her lips across Sweetie’s cheek, and trotted out the door before her sister could protest.

The grass outside the Boutique was dusted with a thin layer of frost, turning the emerald blades a somber grey. They crunched beneath her hooves, and the light wind cut through her coat to steal away her warmth. She shivered and considered going back into the Boutique for a scarf or saddle, but going back would have meant confronting her sister again, and she was in no mood to face Sweetie’s loving concern.

She was better off alone.

Ponyville was still largely asleep, though a few of the houses showed signs of rousing. The trees alongside the road were filled with birds whose lively chatter banished the night’s silence. Drifting in from the distance was the hint of baking bread, and she knew if she followed her nose it would lead her to Sugarcube Corner, where already the Cakes and Pinkie Pie would have been up for hours preparing breakfast for half the town. Somewhere in the vast orchards to the south, she imagined Applejack already at work, knocking the last of the season’s apples from their boughs before winter’s bite could shrivel their skin and brown their flesh. Fluttershy would already be awake and tending to her varied charges, and Twilight… well, Twilight was still asleep, Rarity was fairly certain. That mare didn’t wake until well after dawn if she had any choice in the matter.

Much like Rainbow Dash, or at least the old Dash, the one who hadn’t yet joined the Wonder Bolts and adopted their regimented lifestyle, severe uniforms, silly rules and – yes – early wake-up calls. The old Dash who could reliably be found napping on a cloud at any hour of the day. Rarity could see it now: Dash’s graceful wings stretched out to catch the sun; her beautiful, spectral mane speckled with dew drawn from her cloud bed; her long, shapely legs, corded with muscles, twitching as she dreamed of holding somepony—

Rarity’s thoughts and forward motion came to an abrupt halt when her hoof caught on a raised cobblestone. If she’d been paying even a token amount of attention to where she was walking, she would have avoided it easily, but alas, she was not, and she stumbled onto her knees with a yelp. She scrambled up and quickly glanced around. Seeing nopony around to witness her humiliating little spill, she let out a sigh of relief and dusted herself off.

Silly, silly. She chided herself and pushed away thoughts of peaceful, dozing blue pegasi.

The sun finally broke above the trees to the east when she reached the town center. More ponies were about now, some early birds setting up stands to sell their wares, others just passing through on their way to work. Fillies and colts scampered toward the schoolhouse at the edge of town. Rarity watched them pass and tried to remember a time when she was filled with so much energy.

And innocence. Can’t forget that.

“No, we certainly can’t,” she whispered.

It would have looked odd to stand in the center of town all day, smelling of sweat like an earth pony, her mane askew, her makeup left back in the Boutique. It would have drawn questions, questions she had no good answers for.

And so she kept walking.

The sun was an hour into the sky when Rarity found herself back near the center of town. Ponyville had grown over the years, but it was still Ponyville, and it had a finite number of roads to wander. Not like Fillydelphia, where a pony could spend years walking the streets and never see the same storefront twice. That booming metropolis could have swallowed Ponyville whole and never noticed the difference.

Only an hour, and she had seen everything of Ponyville there was to see. For a moment, Rarity remembered why she left.

The moment might have drawn on much longer, but something warm and soft chose that exact instant to press against her neck. She yelped for the second time that morning and stumbled away, spinning toward her assailant.

Fluttershy stared back, her eyes wide with surprise. For a second they stared at each other, neither able to speak.

Rarity let out a breath. “Fluttershy, darling, you startled me there. When did you become so sneaky?”

“Oh, um, I wasn’t trying to be.” She sounded like her old, bashful self, before their friendship had broken her out of her shell. “I said your name several times.”

Had she? Rarity could have sworn she hadn’t, but Fluttershy wasn’t the kind of pony who made things up, or for that matter snuck up on people and nuzzled them, unlike, say, Pinkie Pie.

“I’m sorry, I must’ve not heard you,” Rarity said. In just a few words, she was back to the smooth, easy, convincing tones that made her such a perfect fit for Fillydelphia. Words that could soothe and connive, adding as much artifice to her mien as all the hours she spent primping in front of a mirror. “I’m afraid I didn’t sleep very well last night, is all. How are you?”

Fluttershy sat on her haunches and brushed her hoof against her belly. She wasn’t what Rarity would consider heavily pregnant, not yet, but she was getting there. “We’re fine. I’m not feeling nauseous in the morning any more. Mac’s very happy about that.”

“That’s only proper, I suppose.”

“Oh, actually, when I wasn’t feeling well, he would skip breakfast with me, and he really likes breakfast.”

Rarity could imagine. She also couldn’t help but smile at the simple act of devotion Fluttershy’s mate displayed.

Beautiful, isn’t it? That’s called love.

“Well, I’m glad to hear that.” Rarity took a seat next to Fluttershy and leaned against her side. She wasn’t cold anymore, now that the sun was up, but for some reason the feel of soft, downy feathers against her ribs soothed her mind. “You’re not having trouble getting around?”

“Oh, no.” Fluttershy’s ears flapped in amusement. “I try not to fly if I can avoid it, but I’ll be walking between the farm and town until the day I foal.”

Rarity blinked and leaned back. “Er, are you sure that’s wise, dear? What if you, ah, you know…”

“If I go into labor while I’m out?” Fluttershy smiled and leaned forward to give Rarity another nuzzle. With her lips in Rarity’s mane, just behind her ear, she whispered, “Then I’ll walk back to the farm and give birth.”

“Oh.” That seemed rather rustic. But then, Fluttershy did live on a farm, now, so maybe it was appropriate. She could imagine Applejack doing the same thing, if Applejack somehow ever managed to get pregnant. But she could never imagine herself in Fluttershy’s condition and still hiking about. For that matter, she had trouble envisioning herself pregnant at all.

Her thoughts must have shown on her face. Fluttershy giggled and gave Rarity’s cheek a lick, a familiar, even intimate gesture, but certainly not one Rarity minded. She returned the lick, and they settled into a comfortable silence, both watching the Ponyville morning play out around them.

Time passed. In the silence that followed, the ill memories returned. Recollections, still fresh, of Dash’s stern visage and wounded pride as she left. One thought led to another, flowing backwards from that moment of abandonment, through the horror of waking up with a phantom, shattered leg and heart pierced with woe, all back through the dreams until she settled on the memory of Twilight’s enchanted gem and the fateful, foolish decision to crack it open and trespass into secret places uninvited. On that decision she mulled, worrying at it like a dog with a worn, cracked bone, neverminding the splinters it left in her mind.

She was staring at the ground, her muzzle wrinkled, neck and shoulders so tight that her whole body vibrated with tension, when Fluttershy whispered again in her ear: “I spoke with Rainbow Dash this morning.”

Suddenly, stillness. All thought and memory fled from Rarity’s mind, replaced a cold shock and slow, dawning horror that her mistake — no, her crime — was no secret. She began to tremble again, and felt naked in a way she never had before, not even on her back with legs spread for a stallion, exposed as petty and thoughtless. A careful sham of a pony with nothing to redeem herself, not even love.

Shameless. Whore.

“I… I ah…” Rarity paused and licked her lips. Her eyes darted around in a panic, searching for any anchor, anything to save her. “She, ahh…”

You what? She what? Just tell her the truth.

“You hurt her,” Fluttershy said, her voice still so low Rarity could barely hear it. “You look like you know that already.”

“I didn’t mean to. I just wanted to help.”

“Oh, I know that. I think Rainbow Dash knows that, even as angry as she is right now.” Fluttershy extended a wing to wrap around Rarity’s shoulders. “She knows you. She knows you’re a pony, and sometimes ponies make mistakes.”

“This… it wasn’t just a mistake.”

“But that’s what it sounds like, Rarity. A terrible mistake, maybe, but still one grounded in love and a desire to help.”

“A desire to help.” She spat the words and clenched her eyes shut. “That’s what I told myself, and it didn’t bother me because I was so certain I was going to fix her and everything would be alright, but I stole from her. I broke into her mind and hitchhiked on her dreams. Dear Celestia, I practically raped her.”

Silence. The wing around Rarity’s shoulders tightened almost painfully.

Like a switch being thrown, all the emotion drained from her, leaving her as empty as those desolate morning hours in the empty bed. In the absence of feeling, everything else was suddenly clear. “She must hate me,” Rarity whispered. “You must hate me.”

“Oh, no no no,” Fluttershy said. She pressed her forehead against Rarity’s shoulder. “Rarity, none of us could hate you. Yes, you hurt her, but sometimes the ones we love are the ones we hurt the most.”

“Please, don’t talk to me about love, Fluttershy. You have…” She sighed. “You have so much of it, and I have none.”

“Rarity, listen to me.” Fluttershy’s voice was urgent, firmer than Rarity could ever remember her using. “We’ve been friends for almost twenty years. I know you. You’re not a bad pony, and you’re surrounded by love. If there’s… if there’s something you’re not telling me, please, don’t be afraid. We can help you.”

Tell her. Talk to her, you fool.

And reap her scorn? No, she could not do that. She would have scoffed at the thought, if she could summon any emotion from the scraped-out, empty barrel of her heart. Instead she stood and carefully removed Fluttershy’s wing from around her back.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “It’s complicated.”

And then she ran, not very fast, but quicker than a pregnant mare could hope to catch.

She did not flee with any particular destination in mind. Anywhere was fine, as long as it was away from Fluttershy. Rarity could withstand many things — exhaustion, scorn, fear, even pain, though few but her closest friends understood the iron that hid just beneath her soft, polished exterior. She was driven, and the engine in her heart could not stop for such inconsequential things. Adversity fueled her, pushed her harder. Ambition and pride flowed through her like blood, and they were why her face was known across Fillydelphia, why her name was spoken in such reverent tones in high society, why she deserved all that she had. There were few things Rarity could not stand.

Pity, lurking in the eyes of a friend, was one. And so she ran from Fluttershy, until her friend’s cries were lost in the bustle of the town around them.

She stopped running, finally exhausted, near the center of the town. Ponies filled it now that the morning had truly arrived, and their bustle gave the square a feeling of action and purpose that wouldn’t have been out of place in Fillydelphia’s crowded streets. They jostled for space around stalls and formed small herds chatting with their neighbors, catching up on the day’s gossip and reaffirming, through touch and scent, the bonds of friendship. For a moment, it felt like home.

Rarity shook her head and banished that thought. Fillydelphia was home, now. Ponyville was just a place to visit.

Home changed while we were gone. Dash’s voice teased her ears like the wind, and she shook her head again. Up ahead, past the town hall, a garish glimmer stabbed at her eyeballs. She frowned and threaded her way through the crowd toward it.

The space immediately around Twilight's castle was, not surprisingly, uncrowded at this hour. Ponies who had business with the princess of friendship typically knew to arrive sometime after noon, when she was fully awake. She passed by the few stragglers making their way toward the crowded square and stood before the door.

A part of her wanted to barge in and just start screaming. Twilight’s description of dreamwalking had been woefully inadequate, and a part of Rarity — the part that could never accept blame, the part that always, desperately sought another pony whose actions were at fault — wanted to lay this all at her hooves. If Twilight had warned her, she might have been more careful. Why, if Twilight had known how dangerous dream walking could be, she never should have given the gem to Rarity in the first place.

Rarity entertained those thoughts for a moment, then swept them aside. There was only one pony at fault for this mess, and it wasn’t Twilight Sparkle. So resolved, she placed her hoof on the door and pushed her way into the Library.

Twilight was seated in the rotunda, almost as if she were expecting company. Her back was to the door, and she hunched over the wood table with that odd horse-head sculpture that some previous library-owner had purchased decades ago. Rarity was about to raise her voice in greeting when she noticed something odd.

Twilight’s entire body was trembling. The door slipped shut behind her, finally sealing off the bustle of the town, and in the silence that followed she could hear the faint sound of a crying mare.

Oh Celestia, how many of us have I hurt?

Rarity’s arrival hadn’t gone unnoticed. Twilight’s head rose from the table, and she took a long breath. “I’m sorry,” she said, starting to turn. “The library’s close—“ Her red-rimmed eyes settled on Rarity, and her mouth snapped shut, biting off the rest of her greeting.

Rarity swallowed. Her hasty plans to confess her errors withered on her tongue. Instead she stared, fumbling for something to say.

“Twilight.” She paused to lick her lips. “Did… did Dash come here?”

“Dash?” Twilight sounded the pegasus’s name slowly, as if hearing it for the first time. She stood, wobbled, and slowly started walking toward Rarity.

“Yes, you, ah…” Rarity tried to back away, stopping when her backside hit a bookshelf. “Twilight, you don’t look so well.”

Twilight stopped a few feet away. “I probably don’t, do I?” She sniffled loudly, and blinked her eyes rapidly, as though trying to banish her tears. “Do you want to know why, Rarity? No, don’t answer, I’m going to tell you anyway. You see, I was having a wonderful dream last night… funny, I don’t even remember what it was about. But anyway, I was having a wonderful dream. I was warm under my covers. I had my coltfriend’s legs wrapped around me. His breath kept tickling the back of my neck but I didn’t care, Rarity. It was one of those wonderful mornings that could have lasted forever.”

She paused, and an uncomfortable silence stretched out. Rarity waited, and waited, and was about to speak when Twilight suddenly resumed.

“That’s when she flew in.” Twilight slammed a hoof down on the floor with a loud crack. “Just like in the old days. She jumped on my bed, and we had a very difficult conversation, Rarity. One I would have given my left wing to have avoided. But it’s too late for that, so I’m just going to ask you straight out: is it true?”

Every instinct in Rarity’s body urged her to deny it. To say no and invent some plausible excuse for Rainbow’s behavior. It wouldn’t be hard – Twilight was a trusting pony, and Rarity was a master of deception. This didn’t have to happen.

You can lie with the best of them. Even to yourself.

She let out a long breath. “It… yes, Twilight. I’m not sure what she said, exactly, but it was the truth.”

Twilight flinched as if struck. She tottered back, and only just avoided falling onto her flanks. “Wha… Why? Why would you do something so… so… so stupid!”

“I just wanted to help her—“

“Help her? I’ve got news for you, Rarity. You didn’t! You were supposed to ask her first!”

“You didn’t explicitly mention that—“

“What?” Twilight stood and pointed a shaking hoof at Rarity. “Don’t make this about me! You knew, you knew you were supposed to ask her first! It was a dreamwalking spell! You don’t just invade somepony’s dreams!”

“Oh, come on,” Rarity snapped, finally low on contrition and out of patience. “This is Rainbow Dash we’re talking about. Do you think she would ever have agreed to that? She wouldn’t let us near her dreams with a ten-foot pole.”

“Well then maybe it wasn’t meant to happen!” Twilight paced across the foyer, her mane whipping to and fro as she shouted. “Or maybe she would have surprised us. But we’ll never know now, because you f… you fu… f-fucked things up!”

Rarity blinked, momentarily stunned. In nearly ten years of knowing Twilight, she had never heard the mare use any sort of vulgarity; until now, she wasn’t even sure Twilight could say such a word, so deeply had Celestia’s upbringing marked her.

Her shock must have shown on her face. Twilight paused and her ears folded back against her skull. “Sorry, it’s just… For Celestia’s sake, Rarity.” She slumped against a bookshelf, her eyes closed. “You could go to jail for this, you know. I could go to jail, just for giving you that damn spell. It’s like giving a knife to a foal.”

Any softening in Rarity’s feelings vanished at the comparison. “Mistakes I may make, Twilight, but I’ll thank you not to call me a foal.”

“Then stop acting like one! Did you even think before you snuck into her bed?”

“I didn’t sneak anywhere, thank you. We’ve been…” Rarity paused and gnawed at her lip, then plowed forward before her courage could fail. “We’ve been sharing a bed for days. Almost since we got back.”

That shut Twilight up. The librarian blinked, her mouth hanging open. After a moment she shook her head and rose to her hooves to step toward Rarity.

“You…” Twilight stopped and stared at her for a half-dozen heartbeats. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” Another pause. “Are you, uh, you know…?” She tapped her front hooves together daintily.

So quaint. Part of her wanted to run over and pinch Twilight’s cheeks. Instead she let out a quiet sigh. “No, Twilight, we’re not, ah, intimate with each other. Not yet.”

“Not yet?”

“Not yet. Probably not ever, now.” Rarity pinched the bridge of her muzzle between her hooves. “Twilight, I messed up. I’m sorry that you’re a part of my error. I wish… I wish I could just rewind everything, and save us all this pain.”

Twilight looked away. Her throat bobbled, and several moments passed before she spoke. “Yeah, I’m sorry too.”

That seems to be going around.

Rarity closed her eyes and took several slow, deep breaths. When she opened them, Twilight was still looking away, not meeting her gaze.

Rarity could take a hint. “If you see her, tell Sweetie I went home.”

So saying, barely whispering, she left.

“One ticket to Fillydelphia, please.”

The cashier, a middle-aged stallion with a rust-colored coat, consulted a chart pinned on the side of the booth beside him. Flecks of silver had started to dust his muzzle, giving him a distinguished air that Rarity both simultaneously admired and envied. How unfair that age gave stallions character, but only wore away a mare’s youthful beauty. Such thoughts chased each other through her mind, until the cashier interrupted her.

“That’ll be fifteen bits.”

She floated a twenty-bit coin onto the counter and accepted the ticket chit in return. “Keep the change,” she mumbled, already turning away.

The platform was sparsely populated in the middle of the morning. Rarity had come straight from Twilight’s castle, pausing only long enough to withdraw enough coins from the Ponyville bank to finance her return trip. The rest of her belongings were still back in the Boutique, where they would sit until Sweetie either forwarded them to Fillydelphia or put them into storage. Either way, Rarity rued, she’d have some explaining to do in her next letter.

It was terribly rude of her to leave town without saying goodbye to her sister, of course, but she knew if she went back to the Boutique Sweetie would insist on talking to her, and a quick goodbye would turn into a drawn out lament, and before she would know it the sun would be setting, and Sweetie would ask her to spend one more night, and Rarity would, and by the time morning came her resolve would have worn away to nothing.

No, it was better this way. Festering wounds needed to be lanced, the quicker the better. And so, at five minutes past ten in the morning, she stepped on the express train from Ponyville to Fillydelphia and didn’t look back.

Once seated, she started to draw the blinds shut out of habit. She normally napped or read while travelling, and the speeding countryside outside the train window was conducive to neither. But her eye caught on a flash of color, just as the blinds were halfway drawn, and she paused there, gazing out at the town.

Even viewed through a tiny porthole, the town was beautiful. Smaller, simpler than Fillydelphia, but beautiful all the same. The rising autumn sun set aflame the crimson and gold trees whose leaves filled the air whenever the wind blew. Ponies, hundreds of them, all smiling and talking and filled with life, walked down the streets. Their heads did not hang, their shoulders did not slump with the weight of the world upon them. They seemed, in a word, happy.

Well, we can’t get everything we want out of life. Some ponies get to be happy; you get to fuck random stallions at will. It’s probably a wash.

Rarity snorted and let the blinds fall the rest of the way shut. She felt the train lurch, and the town outside sped away behind her, unseen.

It was better this way, really. She was not meant for Ponyville, and it definitely was not meant for her. She closed her eyes for just a moment, stifled a sob, and leaned back against the seat rest.

When she opened her eyes, the town was gone. In fact, even the countryside around Ponyville was gone. The train had already passed through the bucolic woods and pastures, and by the look of the small towns speeding by, they were already halfway to Fillydelphia.

More tired than I thought, I guess. She stifled a yawn and twisted her head, trying to relieve the kink in her neck that had formed while she dozed. Fortunately, there were no ponies around to witness her little nap, or heaven forbid the drool that sometimes leaked from the corner of her mouth whenever she somehow fell asleep sitting up. She gave her whole body a shake, and with a final glance out the window, drew the blinds fully shut.

Much better. She leaned back again, and was about to close her eyes when something struck the train above her with a loud clunk, like a tree branch falling onto her home’s roof. She blinked at the sudden sound, and turned her head to follow as a series of smaller echoes proceeded down the train’s spine to the end of her car.

She heard the door open, a rush of wind, and the door closing. The steps – that was the only thing they could be – returned, inside the train now, and a moment later Rainbow Dash’s head poked around her booth. Her mane was wild and tossed, presumably from the effort of catching a train, and her sides heaved in deep, measured breaths.

“Uh, hey,” she said. She ground her hoof into the carpet. “Do you mind if I, uh…” She glanced at the empty seat across from Rarity.

Rarity gawked, but her socialite’s honed manners quickly rode to the rescue. “Not at all, dear. Please.” She gestured at the empty seat with a hoof.

“Thanks.” Dash settled into the seat and spent a few seconds preening her wings. Loose feathers stuck out at odd angles, and she quickly hunted them down with her lips, pushing them back into their proper alignment. “Sorry. I, uh, I don’t have a ticket.”

“That’s quite alright, they only check them when you board this route.” She paused. “Dash, why are you here?”

“What, can’t I say hello to an old friend?”

Rarity raised an eyebrow.

“Er, bad choice of words. A friend I’ve known a while?”

“Better,” she mumbled. There was something different about Rainbow Dash. Her posture was more alert, her ears almost straining forward. In her eyes was something she hadn’t seen there in a long, long time.

Concern.

“What really brings you here, Rainbow Dash?”

Dash’s wings started to mantle, and she forced them back to her sides with an obvious effort. “Well, I wanted to apologize, first.”

Rarity snorted. “Don’t. Please don’t. I’m the one who should apologize. I had no right to intrude on your dreams like that. It was… it was stupid of me, Dash. I haven’t done anything so foolish or ignorant since I was a foal.” She closed her eyes and remembered the warm nights with Dash sleeping against her side. “I haven’t the words to tell you how much I regret it. I’m so sorry.”

When she opened her eyes, Dash’s head was turned to the side, her gaze locked on the drawn window blinds, as if she could see the speeding countryside beyond them. Her breathing had slowed now; Rarity could barely see the pegasus’s chest move.

“I spoke with the girls,” Dash said, so quietly Rarity had to lean forward to hear. “I’ve had my eyes closed for a long time now, and they helped me open them. They made me realize how much you’ve helped me.”

“Dash, I—“

“No, let me finish. I was in a real bad spot when you found me, Rarity. It’s only been a week since then, but it feels like a lifetime. I feel like a different pony. Like I haven’t been since… since before.” There was a hitch in her voice for those final words, as though she still couldn’t quite get past them. “I didn’t realize until this morning how much that was because of you.”

“Any of us would have,” Rarity said, but it was weak. She felt her face heating at Dash’s words.

“Yeah, but you did. Not them, you. It means a lot. A lot.”

Rarity glanced back to see Dash staring at her. The gulf between their seats, though barely wider than a pony’s outstretched hoof, suddenly felt like an ocean. She yearned to reach across it.

“I spoke with Twilight,” Dash continued. “Rarity, do you trust me?”

With my life. “Yes,” she breathed.

“Okay.” Dash let out a little breath and nodded her head. “Okay.” She craned her neck around and reached into her mane with her mouth. She turned back, and set a small blue object on the cushion beside her.

It was an ocean sapphire. Rarity stared at it, her eyes wide, her mind shocked into numbness at its implications.

“Like I said, I spoke with Twilight. Rarity, do you really trust me?”

Oh Celestia, not that. Anything but that. She had seen Dash’s secrets, but they were nothing so bad. Intimate, of course, as sex always was, but nothing to be ashamed of. Dash had seen much the same with her. But to reverse their roles, and let Dash dive into her psyche, into her shame… She shivered, unable to take her eyes from the gem.

Maybe you are such a disgusting whore, such a filthy slut, that no one could see the real you and still love you. But if there were one pony who could, one pony loyal enough to stick by her friend, to still love her despite her flaws, who do you think that would be?

Rarity looked up from the gem. Dash was staring at her, waiting for an answer.

She swallowed.

“Yes, I do.”