Monochromatic Rainbow

by AbsoluteAnonymous

Rating: teen
Tags: Dark, Romance, Tragedy
Length: 1272

Pinkamina mourns her old friend Rainbow Dash, and needs Scootaloo to be someone she's not.

As Pinkamina mourns her old friend Rainbow Dash, both she and Scootaloo need her new assistant to be someone she's not. Based on the "Ask Pinkamina Diane Pie" blog on Tumblr, if you're wondering where the hay this came from.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2011-10-10 17:05:01 UTC

Monochromatic Rainbow

A/N: This is one of my very first FiM fics. It was written late at night, wasn't especially well thought out, and was based on the vaguest conception of an idea, so I apologize. But I figured I might as well upload it onto my new account here for posterity. Or archival purposes. I'm not sure what word I'm looking for here...anyway, don't expect anything amazing.

Sometimes she fell asleep as herself, and woke up in the middle of the night as someone else entirely.

During the day, she was Pinkamina. Dark, grim. A cold smile plastered on her face; a blade typically held at her side. She was like ice, except that ice could melt in the sun. Instead, she was stone, hard and unmoving.

But at night you couldn't easily tell who she really was - not while she slept.

Most of the time she slept so deeply that she had no dreams. But when she did, she would thrash and moan, face contorting as if in pain, until her eyes finally opened.

When she did, it was like waking up an entirely new person. Her memory would be foggy at first, her hair falling into strange waves as if unsure whether she was Pinkie or Pinkamina, and slowly, traces of memories would begin to slip through the cracks as she remember what she was. Eyes wide and shining with tears; breathing shallow and quick.

And Scootaloo was always there beside her.

"Miss Pinkamina?" she whispered, thick with sleep, gazing at her blearily. "Are you-"

But Pinkie was already crying.

"S-scootaloo?" She choked. "W, what...I..."

The room she was in was dimly lit and cramped. A table covered with her tools of the trade was pushed against the wall, and a bathtub covered in rust-coloured stains sat in the corner beside a heavily bolted door.

Every night she woke up so abruptly, the bits and pieces of the memories this room held would come back to her. But in the end, they always settled on the pegasus that started everything.

Before Rainbow Dash, the guilt hadn't been there. She had believed the lottery to be a fair and objective means of choosing the next pony to take back to her base, but it had always chosen ponies she hadn't cared about - strangers in the background, minor characters that meant nothing to her, that she had no personal connection with.

Dashie had been different. That was the first time that she had known the pony whose number came up; but she had been her best friend, and, for some unfathomable reason, she'd thought that she'd be stronger, more supportive. That she would laugh at her jokes, maybe, the way she usually did. But she had screamed and pleaded, just like the others.

And once it was over...for the first time, Pinkamina had begun to feel something like doubt.

Then the dreams began.

Nightmares of a sky-blue pegasus, torn to pieces and screaming and screaming in a puddle of blood as she begged to go home. Nightmares of a bubblegum-pink earth pony who knows she's the one who did this. And then waking up and knowing that it was true.

"Oh, no, no, no..." Pinkie whispered. "Oh, Celestia, no, Dashie..."

When did everything get so crazy?

Before...before, she'd had fun every day. Parties and laughing and pranks and candy and nothing but sunshine for so long. Whenever the darkness threatened to creep back, her friends had bbeen there. For the first time, she'd had support. She'd known that there were ponies out there that could pull her out when she began to fall into the abyss.

And then everything began to go wrong, and the badness began to take over completely.

Scootaloo was silent. As soon as she saw the tears on Pinkie's face, she wordlessly pulled her close and began to stroke her mane. She knew what to do. By now, she was used to these nighttime interruptions.

"She was my friend!" Pinkie sobbed. "How could I have done that to her? To any of them? When did everything get like this? How...how did this happen? I j-just wanted to...to..."

"Shh..." Scootaloo whispered hoarsely. "It's okay. It's..."

"It's not okay! I didn't want any of this...I w-want my Dashie back...I, I, want everything to go back to normal!"

Before, Dash had been the one to bring her back from the precipice. Now she had no one but Scootaloo, the only pony who seemed to understand why she was like this.

It wasn't the same, not even close.

But maybe she could at least pretend.

"Can I...can..."

"Yeah. Yeah..." Scootaloo whispered, nodding. "It's okay."

Raising her hoof, Pinkie began to stroke her tiny wings. They were impossibly soft, but began to stiffen and spread beneath her touch. A blush danced on Scootaloo's face.

Pinkie heaved a long, shuddering sigh before giving her a small, watery smile; and then she closed her eyes, pressing her face into the filly's coat.

She was young, still. But her fur was short and bristly, and her mane shaggy and rough, just like Dash's had been.

As long a she kept her eyes shut, she could pretend. If she didn't actually look, then it was just like things were back to normal.

"Dashie..." she moaned, her voice slightly muffled. "I'm...I'm so sorry, Dashie...you're my best friend, I'm so, so, sorry, please don't leave me..."

"P-Pinkie Pie, you..." Scootaloo began.

Her voice cracked.

"You're...you're so random."

xxxxx

Pinkie Pie's mouth was hard and fierce and possessive as it came down on hers. She held Scootaloo tightly, like she was hers and she never wanted to let go. Her touch explored her entire body, hooves stroking her wings and her mane and her back. Scootaloo did not pull away. And although she found herself feeling ashamed in a secret, deep-down way, she also felt the tendrils of desire snaking through her - something made obvious by her open wings.

Pinkie was light. Pinkamina was shadow. The one that was wrapped around Scootaloo now, aching with painfully raw need, was someone else entirely; but at the same time, she could see fragments of the other two Pinkie Pie's in whoever this was. Maybe this broken, desperate shell of a pony was the true Pinkie, the one that only came out when they were alone. When the pony of the daylight hours finally removed her mask, whether it was one of laughter or despair, this was what lay beneath; and Scootaloo was the only one who got to see it.

At last, Pinkie fell asleep clutching Scootaloo tightly around her middle, crying softly as she moaned for Rainbow Dash.

And Scootaloo would let her do this as long as she needed to.

Dash had been her idol, and she had always wanted to be just like her. Now that she was gone, it was upt to Scootaloo to take up the mantle of her fallen hero. She knew that Dash was the one thing that had kept Pinkie stable for so long; before everything had gone to hell, Pinkie had depended on her. And now, that responsibility was passed on to her, and she would perform her duty the best that she could. For Dash.

xxxxx

In the morning, it was Pinkamina who woke up still tangled around Scootaloo. She had no memory of what had passed the other night. She never did. It was a new day, a new lottery, a new project to take care of. But that was okay. No matter what happened, Scootaloo would stand by her. Rainbow Dash wouldn't betray her friend.