A week went by. Rainbow's relationship with Thunderlane floundered on as normal. She went to Wonderbolt practice as normal but was never once summoned by the tree for any official Element duties. In conversations with friends, she stubbornly insisted that she didn't know how to appease the Tree of Harmony and eventually everyone just stopped asking. She said she was fine but it ate away at her from the inside like nothing she'd ever felt. It wasn't just the weight of her transgression but also her lost status and identity as a guardian of Equestria.

Rainbow was there physically but it felt like the world around her had the volume turned down like she was experiencing everything through a pane of fogged up glass.

Pinkie and Starlight were still gone. That was to be expected. Twilight still tried to include Rainbow in a couple of official proceedings to keep her in the loop and help her not feel like an outsider. It was, after all, a temporary situation.

The pegasus preferred idling in the air to sitting in that degrading folding chair. She lingered in the room after the map’s enchanted light fizzled out and her friends had left.

Being an element bearer was such an obtuse burden to cary; there was no manual with a clearly defined set of rules and even if there was, they'd be different from element to element. The idea that they all subscribed to was that it was each pony’s duty to embody the textbook values of their element as best they could and as long as they did that, things would probably continue rolling along without a hitch.

There had been a few lapses in the past but they'd been resolved in a couple of days at most. They were pioneers in the practice and there really wasn't much knowledge on exactly how to stay on good terms with the Tree of Harmony. It didn't speak to them with words which meant that there was no way to know if you were worthy without checking yourself.

Just because Rainbow couldn't sit in the big chair last week, didn't necessarily mean she couldn't sit in it now. What if it wasn’t something you needed to fix? What if it was more like a timeout to let you think about what you did? If regret and self flagellation could get her back in that chair, it probably would have worked by now. It was worth a try.

The pegasus slunk warily over to her old seat at the table and stretched out a foreleg. The moment her hoof touched the foreleg rest, a snap and horrible jolt shot through her, same as before.

“Shit,” she gasped after leaping back. She shook her still buzzing hoof. “C’mon, I don't know what to do. Please?” she cried to the cold, indifferent throne. “I can still do this, just let me back in. I swear I'll be better.”

Silence.

Frustrated, she covered her tightening face with one hoof, and waited to calm down.

“Rainbow?” called Twilight softly from the doorway.

“What?” she groaned without looking.

“Do you need help?” She walked up to join her at the edge of the map table.

“Nothing is going to help,” she glowered, finally meeting her gaze with just enough confidence that she wouldn't have another emotional breakdown in front of her.

Twilight’s expression darkened with despair but she put a hoof on her friend’s withers. “I’m worried because no one's ever been benched for this long. I can't pretend to fully understand the machinations of the tree but do you think you'll be back in the chair soon?”

Rainbow internally bristled at the seemingly callous nature of the question but kept the venom out of her voice. “I don't need the chair to be able to do what I do,” she quipped.

“I know… but you know it's not actually about the chair. We need six ponies to wield the six elements. If we don't have that, we're all more vulnerable to existential threats.”

“I'm doing my best here,” she grumbled.

“I know. I'm not trying to accuse you of purposefully dragging this out. I think that's the last thing you'd ever want but… what's really going on here? You can tell me.”

“I already told you, Twilight; I don't know. We're just talking in circles about this now.”

Twilight sighed. “If you don't really know, then how do you expect this issue to get resolved? It might sound harsh but everything can't be in limbo forever just waiting for you. The eventuality here is that you'll have to be replaced and you'll lose your stipend.”

Rainbow scoffed at the absurdity of the last part. Her stipend. She hadn't even thought about the money yet but it was cause for concern. She still had some cash flowing in from the Wonderbolts at least. She was still useful there. She was still a hero there.

“I don't want to lose you but I have very little say in the matter. Please just let me help you. You can tell me anything. And if you really have no idea…” She floated an open book down upon the table in front of her with her magic. “This is our best clue about what to do.”

Rainbow looked down at Twilight's pointing hoof and sighed. “Loyalty,” she mumbled. “The quality or state of being loyal. Possessing a continued faithfulness to an obligation, duty, idea or pony when faced with temptation or adversity.” Her eyes darted back up to meet the alicorn's.

“Think about it,” she murmured somberly.

Rainbow seemed to deflate as her gaze fell to the floor. “I have to go…’ - - -

---

Foals shrieked in suprise and scampered through the hay bale maze as Big Macintosh popped his head over the wall with a feral snarl.

Rainbow swooped down from the bitter gray sky, landing at the edge of the Sweet Apple Acres pumpkin patch where a familiar tan hat was bobbing around in the ravaged plot.

Applejack's eyebrows shot up when she saw the ousted pegasus traipsing toward her. “Well, look who it is. Ya come ta help with the patch?”

“Yeah…” she breathed in a subdued, thought-laden voice that was entirely unlike her.

“Pumpkins are gettin' sparse. Just tryna round up some of the good ones and get ‘em nearer the front.” She cocked her head toward the nearby wagon that she'd just started loading. “Them townies are lazy; they buy more when the huntin's easy.”

“Alright,” she agreed affably, nudging a nearby pumpkin with her forehooves. She dribbled it carefully to the back of the open wagon before lifting it up and in.

“So why'd ya really come?” grunted Applejack.

“Is it that obvious?”

“Yep.”

Rainbow sighed. “I wanted help with a problem but I don't want to talk to Twilight about it.”

Applejack paused. “Is it about yer seat at the table?”

“Yeah, but you have to make a promise not to tell any creature what I'm about to tell you.” She scanned the field warily, seeing only a few ponies milling about out of earshot as they searched the naked vines for good pumpkins. Her eyes landed back on Applejack expectantly. “You have to promise,” she reiterated.

Applejack shrugged compliantly. “Okay, Ah promise Ah won't tell anyone.”

Rainbow pointed a hoof at her with dire seriousness. "You're sworn to secrecy now. You can't tell anyone. If I hear that you can't sit in your chair tomorrow, I'm coming after you."

"Okay, Ah get it. Just tell me."

“I cheated on Thunderlane,” Rainbow whispered. “With his brother.”

Her eyes widened. “His little brother, Rumble?”

“I was drunk,” added Rainbow emphatically, wanting to have even just the smallest alibi for her actions.

Applejack covered her mouth as she reached inside for an appropriately shocked and horrified response. The problem was that the more she thought about it, the more shocking and horrifying the revelation became, outpacing her ability to grasp just how dire the situation was. Finally she just shook her head in defeat, "Ya done fucked up big."

"I know that already. What I don't know is how to fix it."

"Well, unfortunately, ya gotta start by tellin' the truth."

"Of course you'd say that," groaned Rainbow, hoisting in another pumpkin with a thud.

“Ya know what they say ‘bout honesty: it's the best policy.”

“Look, I know you're all about honesty but you can't seriously believe that. There are always things you just don't admit ever.”

“Sure there are. There's inside thoughts and outside thoughts and then there's right and wrong. When ya wrong someone, Ah mean real wrong, and ya wanna fix it, ya gotta start by tellin' ‘em what ya did. Then apologize. Then make a genuine effort ta do better.”

“Or so the old mare's tale goes,” scoffed Rainbow. “You make it sound so… easy.”

Applejack snapped a vine by stamping on it with one hoof. “Rainbow, ya know how hard it is ta be honest all the time?"

Rainbow shook her head. "No. Not being honest is something I enjoy on a regular basis."

"Then ya do know. Every day's a challenge. Least with somethin’ like loyalty, ya get ta pick yer battles and name yer terms."

Rainbow idly rolled a pumpkin around as she gestated on the strangely contractual nature of loyalty. It always began with a choice and a promise. When she thought about the ponies she'd betrayed, she'd never explicitly made any such promises to them; it simply went without saying that when you became someone's fillyfriend or sister, you didn't do things like that. The relationship itself was the promise.

She screwed up her face. “But if I told Scootaloo, it would crush her to know that her idol stabbed her in the back like that.”

“True,” nodded Applejack. “But do ya think Scootaloo should still idolize you?”

Rainbow's mouth hung open like she'd just been run through with an iron poker. The question struck at the already cracked foundation of her identity. She jawed for a retort. “It- it’s not about whether she should idolize me; it's about protecting her.”

“It might seem like what they don't know won't hurt them but lies fester, Rainbow. Then they explode like a bloated dead body fulla gas.” Applejack stomped her hoof right through a slouching, rotten pumpkin.

Rainbow grimaced at her macabre analogy. “I’m not saying you're wrong about needing to tell the truth to rebuild after being disloyal or that it's risky to not just come clean on my own terms; I'm saying that this is more complicated than you're making it seem. Like, did it occur to you that I could go to prison for this? Can you see why this is so difficult for me?”

“Ya think Thunderlane would tell their parents?”

“I'd say the chances definitely aren't zero. And if he did then I don't know what would happen but I don't think it would be good.”

Applejack stroked her chin. “Hmm… Ah have a question: ya wanna make things right ta heal or ta just get yer seat back?”

Rainbow hesitated, suddenly noticing the weird beetles that seemed to be all over the plants. “I feel awful about all of this,” she began. “And I wish every single minute that I could just undo it, but I'll level with you, if it weren't for the whole team element thing, this would probably be a no-brainer keep my mouth shut kind of situation. I don't think a clear conscience would be worth the damage. I don't have the guts to take a flamethrower to my life just to chase a moral win.”

Applejack scratched under her hat. “Well, that's… honest at least. How does Rumble feel about all this?”

“I- I don't know. I’m rarely ever able to have conversations with him completely alone.”

“Maybe you should try ta ally with him. If yer serious ‘bout fixin’ things, try ta get him on board with yer agenda and even go with you ta confess. He likes you, doesn't he? And Thunderlane loves him unconditionally and will have to think twice about what he says and does if he's part of the conversation.”

Rainbow swallowed. “That plan makes me feel sick but at the same time it's probably the best I can do and I don't think I could have come up with it on my own… Is that what you’d do in my situation?”

“Ah dunno…” she shrugged earnestly. “Ah think Ah'd try ta make peace with the idea of never bein’ an element again.”

“You wouldn't tell?” gasped Rainbow in abject disbelief.

“Well, Ah didn't say that. Ah think that's how Ah'd wanna handle it but in the end, the guilt might just eat me alive. But that's me; you gotta make that decision fer yerself.” - - -

---

Rainbow lay awake in bed, unable to hear anything in her brain but Applejack's question replaying over and over like a broken record: ‘Do ya think Scootaloo should still idolize you?’ There were so many other serious things to consider but somehow those words now sat upon the throne of her whole empire. The worst part about it was that she had a clear answer for that question.

In the still of the night, a whistle cried out and Rainbow imagined herself waiting for that train, laying across the rails, eyes closed.

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