Sensation (SFW Version)

by Vivid Syntax

Rating: teen
Tags: Soarin, Romance, Original Character, Braeburn, Sex, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 369192

Soarin' should be happy, but even as co-captain of the Wonderbolts, he always feels like he's flying solo. Something's missing, and he'll need to learn what's truly important to find it.

I never liked the quiet. Quiet happens when the audience gets bored. Quiet happens when somepony you love walks out on you, or when you crash into the stands during the show and nopony knows if you’re hurt, but they’re too afraid to ask... It paralyzes you, ya’ know?

Soarin' should be happy, but even as co-captain of the Wonderbolts, he always feels like he's flying solo. Something's missing, and he'll need to learn what's truly important to find it.

HUGE thanks to WordGuru(editing), SunX (editing), and Nuka-Cola Guy (proofreading)
Cover art by Neko-Me

Note: As the story header implies, there is also a mature-rated version of this story which can be accessed from my user page.

Published 2016-05-05 23:20:01 UTC
Last updated 2017-10-13 22:09:13 UTC

Chapter 1 - Quiet

* * * * *

She was the hottest mare you've ever seen. I half-growled, half-moaned into her mouth, feeling all the tension suddenly release. My legs quivered and felt like they were about to give out on me, and I could hear my heartbeat in my head. I thought I was going to pass out. I held it together, though, and gave her a sensual lick on the face.

Panting, I flopped down next to her on the plush bed. The endorphins ran their course through my brain, and my whole body tingled. My muscles slowly relaxed. I started noticing my environment again: the silky blue sheets we lay on, the gilded tables and artwork that decorated the room, the high ceiling that extended to all six of the rooms in the suite, the giant glass doors that led out to a stunning view of Manehattan… I was in the single fanciest hotel room in the city, and I had just gotten it on with easily the sexiest mare on the planet.

And I still felt completely empty.

Sapphire Shores rolled over and sat up. She stretched her neck, and her curly blue mane tumbled over her cream-colored back as she moaned, "Mmm… Very nice work, Hon. I think somepony's earned himself a night's stay." She tossed her mane and looked at me with narrow, sultry eyes. "And how was it for you?"

My face felt heavy, and each breath felt like it was just inflating a hollow cavern inside me. I shrugged. "Eh, it was okay."

Even if I couldn't see her, I could feel her eyes digging into the side of my skull. "Excuse me?"

I rubbed my eyes with my hooves. "Sorry! Sorry. I've just been… yeah. You were great. Sorry, fantastic. You were the best."

"Better. Psh!" She stood up and mumbled to herself, "Lucky my regular skipped out on me tonight." Standing tall, she sauntered over to the bar, shaking her flanks and turning her nose up at me in a way that told me I didn't deserve her.

I rolled onto my side and heard a soft clink as she dropped some ice into two lowball glasses. She grabbed a decanter from the bar, popped the cork, and poured us something. There was no label, but the liquid was golden-brown, and it had to be expensive.

Sapph set the bottle down and shook her head. "You didn't answer me, Soarin'."

I rubbed my eyes again and sat up. "Hm?"

Her husky voice lost some of its edge as she set the glasses onto a small serving tray. "You seemed tense tonight, baby. What's–"

I cut her off. I hated when people asked me about… things. So I cracked a joke, like always. "Heh. What we just did? Not really what I'd call relaxing. Totally worth it to be with you, though, sweet cheeks."

She ignored my comeback and walked the tray over to the absurdly large bedside table. "What's on your mind?"

I turned my head to the side and stretched my wings out behind me. "Eh, I don't know," I sighed. "Just… stress, I guess." I knew that wasn't it, but it was the answer I'd been going with whenever anypony had asked.

I heard a small chuckle as she picked up our glasses. "Life of a celebrity bachelor finally getting to you, Soarin'? Too many fans throwing themselves at your hooves?"

"Something like that," I answered quickly. I wouldn't let myself think too hard about it. She passed me the drink, and I swirled it around, watching the light from a nearby gem lamp dance around in the alcohol.

She cooed at me, "Aw, my big strong pegasus needs somebody to cuddle him and …" She sang a line from one of her songs. "Protect you from those… lonely niiiiiiights-ah!"

Sapphire's condescending tone would normally have gotten on my nerves. Tonight, though, they just made me feel exposed, so I put on the goofy face again. "What, you saying you're ready to get back together?" My voice betrayed me, letting on more excitement than I'd hoped. I really wanted to give it another shot. Not with her, necessarily, but…

She came back with a bitterly dismissive tone. "Oh, hell no."

"What? Why not?" I exhaled and gulped down the drink, feeling the fire hit the back of my throat and work its way to my stomach.

"Oh, Soarin'…" She ran a hoof through my spikey mane and down my cheek, finally lifting my chin up so that my eyes were just a few inches from hers. Her breathing slowed, and she made those lusty eyes at me, the kind that just make you melt. Her voice was sweet and gentle as she explained, "It's because you're an air-headed colt with no sense of direction that can't see anything past his own nose and doesn't actually care about anypony but himself."

She dropped my chin, and my eyes shot wide open. I was stunned. "I, buh… whuh?" I looked up at her again.

Sapph's expression had flattened. "I guess what I'm saying is…" She sneered and mocked my voice with, "It was okay."

My heart rate picked up again, and I scooted back a bit. "Sapph, I said I was sor–"

"And frankly," she interrupted, turning her head to the side. "I can do better than 'okay.' I deserve better than 'okay!'" Suddenly, she jumped to her hooves and stood up on the bed. "Do you have any idea how many stallions throw themselves at me every day?" She loomed over me, and I kept scooting back as her voice grew louder and louder. "And you come in here, months after I told you I was done, expecting what? That suddenly everything would be fine again?"

"Uh, Sapph? I-I didn't–"

"What in Luna's name do you want? Tell me, Soarin'! Tell me!"

I shook. "Sapph, I–"

"I don't care!" she snarled at me. "I don't want to hear from you until you're over being 'okay.' Got it? Now get the buck out of my room!"

"Gah!" I fell backwards out of bed and felt a bolt of pain shoot up my right wing. I scrambled to get up, stumbling as I burst into a gallop towards the open window.

A glass crashed and shattered against the wall next to me. "OUT!"

I dove out the window, gaining some velocity from the fall before I spread my wings and sailed out over Manehattan. The cold night air hit me like a punch to the gut, and I was still breathing heavily from our little workout. It took me a few seconds to fight through the head rush and stabilize on the stiff breeze. My muscles tingled, I took a few deep breaths of the slightly stale air until I had collected my thoughts.

"Crazy bitch," I mumbled.

Of course, nopony had heard me, and my voice felt weak and hollow. This late at night, the sky was almost completely clear of other fliers. I was alone in the dark.

Below me, golden light shone all over dozens of skyscrapers, apartments, and shopping centers. I recognized a lot of the big places, from the Empire Neigh Building to the arena where the Wonderbolts perform. The whole city was a patchwork of square streets and tightly-packed buildings, and it seemed like it never slept. Maybe that was why I spent so much time there.

But that night, I didn't have anywhere else to go. My thoughts went in circles, and so did I. I flew in a holding pattern, not getting anywhere. 'I could see if any of the guys are still at that bar. No, they were all trying to score anyway. Maybe that unicorn guy's still there? No, that's just desperate, and I'm pretty spent on crazy one-night stands tonight. No point in going home yet, either. Maybe I should check out the bar. Some of the guys might still be there.'

I felt like I was being pulled in so many different directions, but every time I would veer off towards a destination, I would get a sinking feeling in my chest. I knew what would happen: I'd find some way to distract myself for a few minutes, and then everything would get cold again. It had been that way for weeks, maybe months, and each night, I'd felt a little more alone.

My wings tired out, so before I could fall asleep in midair – don't laugh, it happens – I started spiraling gently downwards. It didn't take me long to spot an open rooftop. I fluttered down, landed gracelessly on the concrete roof, and shook out my mane, trying to wrap my head around what had happened with Sapph. "The buck is her problem?" She'd been crazy when we were together, but nothing like that. Maybe the fame had finally gotten to her? I started picturing us back together, and that same desperation started clawing at me from inside my chest.

I shook my head. As useless as I knew it would be, I needed another distraction. I trotted over to the ledge and rested two hooves on it, peering over to drink in the bright light and the dazzling sound. Ponies trickled out of buildings in pairs and large groups, a mix of earth ponies, unicorns, and pegasi. A lot of them looked drunk, and there weren't enough cabs to serve everypony right away. The clubs must have just been closing for the night.

I don't know how long I rested there, pony-watching and idly swishing my tail, but it felt like days. Everywhere I looked, groups and couples stumbled about, hanging off each other and laughing and huddling close together. They all looked warm and comfortable, like they were glowing in the artificial light.

Me, though? I turned around, dropped onto all fours, and sighed at the darkness covering the large, barren rooftop. My heart felt heavy, and my whole body went limp as I slouched down against the ledge. The concrete scraped across my back. I didn't really feel it, though. My chest heaved once, and I kept glancing around, expecting somepony to come check on me.

Nopony was coming, though. I took a few deep, shaky breaths and wrapped myself up in my wings, completely covering my face.

I wanted it. I wanted it so badly: that moment where you're feeling free and you're with somepony you could actually connect with. It never happened with these random lays. I had to maintain the Wonderbolt image in front of the fans, and I shook my head when I thought about my teammates. I couldn't remember the last time I'd had a conversation that wasn't about work or some hottie that one of the guys had scored with. Or, much more commonly, the not-really-jokes about taking my position as captain, the ones that made my skin crawl more and more every day.

Sapphire might have been a nut job, but she was right. Even with all I had – a stable job with the Wonderbolts, tons of fans, and enough cash to do whatever I wanted – I felt completely alone. I wanted somepony to cuddle me.

* * * * *

Soarin's eyes open wide. Realization races across his face. He forces out a half-hearted chuckle and looks at me nervously. "Oh, dude." Another fake chortle. "Thaaaaat sounded pretty fruity, didn't it?" He grimaces, eying me.

I take a deep breath and consciously relax my shoulders. I didn't come here to play psychologist, but I can't let my frustrations show. We're starting to get somewhere. "It sounded honest."

Soarin' blinks twice. "Uh…" He sinks further into the couch and looks downward. "...Yeah."

* * * * *

Nopony came onto that rooftop. It was quiet and really unnerving, and I muttered, "This sucks," just to break the silence.

I never liked the quiet. Quiet happens when the audience gets bored. Quiet happens when somepony you love walks out on you, or when you crash into the stands during the show and nopony knows if you're hurt, but they're too afraid to ask. Loud noises always mean something's happening, and you can feel that energy. You start to tingle all over and realize you're alive, and it lifts you up. Quiet just holds you down. It paralyzes you, ya' know? When you're left alone, everything bad starts flooding back – all the painful memories and all the mistakes you've ever made, and you wonder, and you doubt yourself… I hate the quiet.

That rooftop was quiet, and Sapphire's words crept back into my head. Air-headed? Doesn't care? I wanted to be angry at her, but I never got that angry rush of adrenaline. My chest just felt deflated.

I don't know how long I stayed there, but at some point I realized I was talking to myself. "…can't keep doing this. Sweet Luna, how long has it been since I've cuddled up and just freaking talked with somepony?" I knew the answer to that one, and I really, really didn't like it.

With a sigh, I looked around again and realized that the paparazzi would have a heyday with something like that, which finally got me up off my butt. I stank. I was tired and sore, and I wanted to go home. Plus, it was still mid-spring, so it was pretty cold out.

After taking a moment to stretch out my ultra-fine body, I hopped into the air and started flapping, not in any rush. The rooftop got further and further away from me, beat by beat, until I finally took off towards my condo. The light faded from a brilliant glow to a soft flicker as I left the city. I counted my wingbeats to myself, trying to keep distracted during my short flight back home.

The breeze was slow but favorable, so it only took about thirty minutes before I could see the large clouds that held the Wonderbolts Academy. I considered just sleeping in my office, but I didn't want to show up to work in my condition, especially in the middle of the week. Spitfire was going rag on me already.

"Hey, Soarin'! Wait up, bro!"

I whirled around and squinted at the cream-colored speck in the distance. I couldn't make out the face by the moonlight, but that bright orange mane gave it away. "Oh, hey! Fire Streak!"

He caught up in seconds and gave me a quick bro-hoof. "How's Number One tonight?" We flew next to each other, slow enough to talk. "Get in, get off, get out with that unicorn guy?"

I rolled my eyes. "Ugh, no. He sucked."

"Ha! So it was a good night, then, right?"

"What?" I hovered in place and cocked an eyebrow at Fire Streak. It took a smirk and a punch to the shoulder to snap back. "Oh, no. Ha! I wish. He had this whole macho thing going on. Wanted to throw me down onto the floor and make me his bitch."

We took off again, and he said, "Sounds… good? If you're into that sort of thing?" Fire Streak tried to hide the confusion in his voice. He was only in it for the mares, so I couldn't blame him. At least he didn't get grossed out like some members of the squad.

But I had to set the record straight, so to speak. "What, me? Nah. Not in a million years. I'm a giver, not a taker. How was your night, Two?"

He rocked his head back and forth before sighing. "Eh, no luck. Not really. Looks like we both struck out."

"Heh. I didn't say that." When his ears perked up and swiveled toward me, I added, "I went over to Sapph's place. It was a good time, but she was…" I didn't know how to put it.

He narrowed his eyes and smirked. "A crazy, heinous bitch?"

"Yeah, that." We laughed together, and Fire Streak launched into a story about some mare he knew way back when. I felt a lot more relaxed talking to him, way more than if I'd flown back alone.

We were flying past Academy property before I knew it, and he cut off his story right around the part where the two of them went to the balcony. "I'm beat. Think I'll crash here tonight." He started teasing me. "Wanna have a slumber party? Or you heading back to your castle?"

"Heading back." I ignored his tone. We'd made it most of the way back home, and he'd made me feel a lot better. There wasn't anything Fire Streak could do to get under my skin.

"Okay. G'night, Future Two."

…except that. The slight maliciousness in his voice stung like a needle to the back of my neck. All the humor was gone out of me.

I snorted and felt my jaw clench. Every bucking time, and it wasn't just him. Yeah, the Wonderbolts are a competitive group – I get that – but my squadmates always, always just had to remind me that they were gunning for my position. These ponies were supposed to be my friends, my teammates, but they wouldn't think twice before selling me out to get a better spot on the team. I grumbled a "Night" and kept flying as he veered off.

The flight back home didn't take long, and I didn't bother getting cleaned up. I walked through the door, flew up the stairs, trotted into my room, and collapsed on the bed, ready for sleep to take me.

It didn't. I've got a king-sized bed, since you never know when you'll need the extra space, but that night, the emptiness bothered me, taunted me whenever I rolled over. I kept looking at the empty pillow next to me, and through sheer exhaustion I considered going back out and finding that unicorn. No position felt comfortable, my thoughts kept going in circles, and everything from counting sheep to breathing deeply just made me more frustrated.

Worst of all? It was quiet.

Chapter 3 - The Apple Thief

"Buck yeah!" The cold air ripped across my body as I plummeted down through the clouds, and I hit terminal velocity in the blink of an eye. The adrenaline pumped through my veins, and my thoughts finally felt right. 'All I need's a good flight to snap me out of it, then I'll be my old self, back on top.' Broken record? Maybe, but at that moment, it was just me and the sky.

Face toward the faraway ground, I rotated my wings back, catching myself on the wind and rocketing my body in a U-turn that slapped gravity in the face. Every organ in my body felt like it had doubled its weight, but the rush of endorphins to my brain balanced them out. I exhaled with a hiss through my teeth, and my head cleared.

Using my momentum, I climbed back into the sky, higher and higher, still keeping up an awesome speed. I couldn't hear anything except for the air screaming past, and the clouds sank like stones as I dashed up toward the late morning sun. My wings burned with exertion, but a feeling inside me told me to hold out just a little more. I kept going, forcing my wings to flap harder and gasping for breath in the thinning atmosphere. My mind raced with calculations: the angle of my wings, how cold it was getting, how high I could climb, how much my body wanted to give out…

And then, I let it all go.

All at once, I snapped my wings back to my sides, ready to let gravity have it revenge. There's this feeling you get when you stop flying, right after you've given yourself up to the sky. You're going up into nothingness faster than you can imagine, but then everything slows down, and you reach your apex. You close your eyes. At that moment, you're weightless, completely disconnected from everything in the world, and nothing can touch you. You feel invincible.

And as soon as you start falling, you feel more vulnerable than ever. Your body starts twisting and turning, tumbling over itself, completely out of control. The air has a biting chill, but the sun warms your face and your belly, and it all blends together into this blur of experiences that seem less and less real, until you're not sure if you even exist anymore. Everything stops, even your heart. I was there, in that moment, and everything felt perfect.

There's something visceral about it. Your know deep down that you're going to die, but once you let go of the natural panic and just accept what's happening, you find a kind of serenity that no living pony should ever be able to experience.

For a few seconds, I thought about nothing. All my worries melted away into the sky, just like they always did. There wasn't any trouble with the Wonderbolts, I wasn't afraid of losing my job, and all my mistakes were distant memories. This was what I needed. Falling through the sky, I was at home. I was at peace.

Aaaaaaand that's when my stomach started grumbling. My eyes shot open, and I scowled. "Dammit!" As quickly as I'd found my little piece of heaven, it had been ripped away from me, and my head was flooded with the same problems it always seemed to have. It felt like a punch to the gut and a slap to the head. I tried to close my eyes and get back to that perfect mental state, but once you get snapped back to reality, you can't find that moment anymore. I've tried, and it just gets aggravating.

I gave up on it and paid more attention to my stomach. Grumbling, I spread out my wings and stabilized myself. I'd fallen a lot further than I'd realized, and I thought to myself, 'Meh, not a bad way to go. Should probably at least have an audience, though.'

I aimed for the horizon. There was an apple orchard not too far from the Academy, one that you could see on a clear day, and I figured they wouldn't miss an apple or two, right? I'd make sure to come back and pay later. I'm a good guy.

That's the nice thing about Cloudsdale – you've got Manehattan in spitting distance, but go the opposite direction, and there's tons of open space. It's a nice rural area with farms and dirt roads and clean air, the kind of place you find a lot of earth ponies. It took a few minutes of flying, but I spotted a lake that I recognized and dove straight for it.

If you're ever falling toward a smooth lake, here's a tip: don't pull up until you can juuust make out your reflection. Dude, it looks super sweet. Just... don't wait any longer than that.

"Hello, Gorgeous." I saw my ruggedly handsome face in the water and rotated my wings back, banking forward and running parallel to my reflection. My hooves skimmed the surface, leaving a three-meter rooster tail behind me. I looked back and saw a rainbow forming in the spray. Like I said, super sweet.

My stomach rumbled again, and my head snapped forward. I soared past what could generously be called a beach where a mare and her colt were, naturally, cheering for me, then sped forward along a dirt road. The orchard came into view again as I crested a small hill, and that amazing, sweet smell hit my nose. I started salivating. I've had a lot of apples, but after skipping breakfast, I wanted that fruit as badly as I wanted air.

Something purple caught my attention. "Aw, nuts," I mumbled through gritted teeth, spotting a farm pony walking out of the orchard and down a road that was a little ways off. I didn't have any bits on me, and farm ponies aren't known to accommodate thieves. She didn't see me, though. Her cart had a bunch of suitcases in it, like she was going on a long trip

I thought to myself, 'Better make this quick. She probably has security working the place. Just get in, grab a snack, and go. Easy.' I picked up the pace, ducking into the grove and weaving in and out of the trees on the fringe.

Nopony was around, and the orchard was peaceful. The trees were arranged in neat rows, and I barrel-rolled between them, feeling my mane brush against the trunks of a few trees. Sweet, tart scents filled my nose, coupled with the smell of grass and dirt and leaves. The sun shone in little pockets between the trees, and I felt it warm my back as I passed each one.

About twenty meters ahead, a low-hanging branch held a ripe apple, red and heavy and just begging to be picked. It seemed perfect. I wouldn't have to land, wouldn't have to slow down. I kept up my speed, twisted in a little corkscrew maneuver, reached for the apple… and missed.

I wasn't off by much, though. I snorted and dashed forward, bobbing in and out of the trees until I saw another target. Oh, this one looked even juicier. I twisted and missed again. I grumbled to myself, "Stupid. Probably not even ripe."

Four trees ahead, I saw another one, a deep red fruit that barely clung to the branch. This one wasn't getting away. I kept my eyes on it. My mouth watered. I turned, floating on my back as I reached up to grab it. The apple brushed against my right forehoof, but I caught it in my left with a "Gotcha!" when –

"Whoa, there!"

I jerked myself to the left. My eyes went wide as I exited my spiral, searching for the noise, and I managed to catch a glimpse of a fully-loaded apple cart. I tried to yell something coherent but only managed a "HWUAH!"

It… gets kinda hazy after that.

A hard blow on my face. My wings wouldn't listen to me. My stomach heaved. Something scratched at my ear. I felt like I was falling sideways. There was a loud crack, and I thought, 'Please don't let that be my wing!'

My head hit a hard surface. My bones felt like they were all knocked out of place at once. Everything was spinning. There was a sudden stop, and a sharp pain shot up my spine to the back of my head. All I could hear was a deafening ringing sound.

And then, darkness.

I don't know how long I was out for. That's the thing about being passed out: you're not awake enough to remember any of it, and you aren't ready for it to start or end. There's just… fear. It's like, you're trying to run away from the most terrifying thing you've ever seen, but you can't even see it, and your legs are strapped down to the ground and you have this feeling like you're about to die. It's not like falling, though. There's nothing peaceful about it. You just feel yourself fill with dread.

But then somepony slaps you with a fish.

I mean, it wasn't really a fish, but it felt like it. I tried to lift my eyelids, but they wouldn't budge. My face felt moist, and there was this rhythmic thumping playing on my check. My first thought was, 'I'm pretty sure somepony's slapping me with a fish.'

The ringing died down, and there was another sound there to replace it. It sounded nice, but I couldn't figure out what it was. It was absolutely something I should have recognized, but my brain ached and refused to cooperate for a few moments until it came to me. 'Oh. Those are words.'

"…your eyes. C'mon, it'll be okay." My whole body relaxed. The voice definitely belonged to a stallion, but he sounded more than a little feminine. It reminded me of a colt trying to get an extra dessert – cute and a little desperate, and it had a beautiful country twang. I didn't care, though. It was soft and soothing, and it was coaxing me awake, and that's what mattered.

The thumping on my cheek stopped, and a hoof lifted my chin as a splash of cool water hit my forehead. That voice continued. "Ya' must be crazy, tryin' those fancy acrobatics with all these trees around." I let out a heavy breath, melting at the sound of that voice. I tried to smile and failed. "Now, I can help, but ya' gotta stay with me."

'Ok. Whatever you say,' I thought. With a lot of effort, I managed to half-open my eyes. Everything looked blurry, but I could make out the shape of a face, butter-yellow in color. I only got a glimpse, though. Sunlight streamed through the green leaves, and out of nowhere I had this massive headache. I think I groaned, and my eyes shut tight.

"Little bright for ya'?" The stallion figured me out pretty quickly. I felt him put something on my head, and the harsh sunlight stopped hurting me. The voice came back. "There you go. Hoo-ee! Ya' had me scared there for a bit. Can ya' stand?"

My jaw hung slack, but I rolled onto my stomach. Shakily, starting with my forelegs, I hoisted myself up. My whole body quivered, and I thought I was going to throw up. All I could reply was, "Ugh…" My stomach tried to jump out of my throat, and for a moment I was glad I hadn't eaten anything.

Keeping my head down, I remembered my wings. I hesitated a few times, but I slowly stretched them out. There was a dull pain, but nothing seemed broken. After a few heavy sighs, I managed a "Thanks."

"S'alright. Let's get ya' loaded onto the cart," the other pony said with a little more cheer than I was able to handle. "I'll bring ya' back to the farmhouse and getcha right fixed up. Just keep talking to me, ya' hear?"

"Yeah. Yeah, okay," I groaned. I took a few deep breaths, but didn't move until a felt a small nudge on my flank. I turned my head toward the other pony to get a good look, but everything looked like a grade-school watercolor, and the sunlight felt like it was driving a spike through my forehead.

Another nudge, and I walked forward as the world spun around me. Keeping my eyes closed, I felt my way to a large box with wheels. I flopped in on top of some mashed apples, which filled the air with a blisteringly sweet scent that upset my stomach all over again. I pulled the hat further over my eyes. At least the sunlight felt nice on my back and helped me keep track of which way was up.

A few moments later, the cart rocked forward, and that smooth, bouncy voice floated back to me again. My head didn't hurt while I listened to it. "We'll be home in a few minutes, lickity-split. Just don't leave me, and it'll be fine. That alright, mister… Aw, heck, where are my manners?" I couldn't believe how energetic this guy was. "We haven't been rightly introduced yet! Name's Braeburn."

"I'm Soarin'." I tried to be upbeat like him, and I think I did a pretty good job, all things considered.

"Sounds like ya' said 'Soarin''? Well, pleasure to meet you, Soarin'. Sorry it couldn't be on more fortunate terms. Course, maybe I coulda looked where I was goin' and saved ya' some trouble. Head in the clouds, I guess. Oh! Uh, no offense, I hope." He sounded embarrassed, and it was adorable. I wanted to pet him like a small puppy. "Although… what were ya' doin' in these parts anyway?"

I froze, eyes wide under my hat. 'Stealing.' I laughed nervously, trying to come up with a plausible lie. I spoke loudly to cover up my fear. "Uh, I was… flying…" Nailed it.

"And who could blame ya'?" Braeburn interrupted. "If I was a pegasus, I'd love to spend all day floatin' through these orchards. Why, these are my second favorite trees in all of Equestria. Favorites are back home, of course, back in Aaa…" He trailed off, and everything got quiet. "…back home." For a few seconds, all I heard was the turning of the wheels and his hooves on the road. "Where you from?" It came out stilted, not at all cheery.

I wish I had asked him what was wrong. Instead, I thought, 'Sweet Celestia, this guy can ramble. At least he hasn't pressed me too hard about why I'm here.'

"You okay? Don't want ya' passin' out again."

"Uh, yeah…" There was genuine concern in Braeburn's voice, and my heart skipped a beat. He wasn't jumping on me about slipping up, wasn't goading me to be more competitive. He was just… talking to me, and it struck me how weird that felt. He was being gentle. My nightly conquests always turned into insincere fawning, and even my teammates always had an air of competition around them, like they'd kill me if it meant being co-captain.

But this guy? He was showing me genuine tenderness. At the time, I figured it was just because he didn't know who I was. He was being friendly in a way that I hadn't experienced in… I don't know, years? He was taking care of me without expecting anything back, even though I was a complete stranger. It just… felt good, you know?

I shook my head to try and clear the fog. "I'm from Cloudsda–"

"Cloudsdale! Shoulda guessed from the wings and all, but I didn't wanna presume. I'd love to see it someday, but I don't suppose a lot of earth ponies get that privilege." Braeburn paused, his voice becoming stiff again. "Gotta be grateful for what we have. E… even if we'd like it to change."

A few moments of silence passed. It ended when the cart wheel ran over a rock. The cart jostled, and I let out a sharp cry as I felt another shot of pain in my skull. Still hiding under the hat, I began rubbing my temples.

Braeburn halted immediately, and the cart came to a gentle stop. The yoke clacked as he unhitched it from his neck, and before long he stood beside the cart. "Sorry! Wasn't watchin' carefully, I guess. Still with me?"

I sat up, resting my forelegs on the wall of the cart and facing the yellow pony in front of me. "Yeah, I'm…" My vision had cleared up, and I found myself staring breathlessly at the stallion in front of me.

Braeburn's coat glowed a rich, buttery yellow in the midday light, smooth and velvety. Sweat trickled through his soft fur, beautifully outlining his well-defined muscles, tight from years of working the fields. He wore a brown vest, and right away I wanted to take it off of him so I could stare at the rest of his toned chest. He was a little short for a farm pony, but that only made him cuter. A cool breeze rolled by, fluffing out a golden made that was interlaced with hues of chestnut brown. The hair fell naturally and softly across his neck and forehead, contrasting with his strong jaw and stopping just short of the two most gorgeous emerald eyes I've ever seen. His perfect face gazed back at me, masculine it its features but feminine in its expression.

"…yummy." My eyes closed halfway, and I couldn't help but grin. My wings started to unfurl themselves, and it took all my concentration to keep them down. Wings, am I right?

"You're… yummy?" Braeburn cocked an eyebrow and turned his head a few degrees, with his lips parted just slightly.

I felt hot. My hooves drummed against the side of the cart before I stammered, "Uh, yeah! You know, good to go!" I hadn't had that much trouble talking to a guy in a long time. "Yummy! Yeah."

"Uh huh. Well, glad you're okay." Braeburn frowned a bit, turning back to the road and hitching himself back up to the cart. The cart lurched forward, and he continued. "And if you've got 'yummy' on your brain, we can get you some of my aunt's famous pie back at the house. It's just over this hill."

"Mmm…" I moaned, leaning on one hoof and ogling Braeburn's rear as it swayed back and forth. Quietly, I purred, "Looking forward to it."

Chapter 4 - Gettin' Some

"Oh… Oh, baby. Mmm… yeah…" My lip quivered. My spine tingled. I tilted my head back, closed my eyes, and felt dizzy. My knees shook, and a little drool slid out of the corner of my mouth. I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt so good. "Oh, dude. That's amazing."

Braeburn chuckled coyly. "Well," he cooed, smiling at me. "Glad I haven't lost my touch. Ready for more?"

I panted and tilted my head to look at this stallion – no, this master – who knew how to please me more than any pony I'd ever met before. My mouth curved in a devilish smile. "Braeburn, don't you even think of stopping. I could go like this for hours."

"Yes, sir!" Braeburn hooves moved up and down even faster, and honestly, I didn't think I could hold out much longer. "Don't think I've ever met a stallion as excitable as you."

I took deep breaths. "You kidding?" I wiped away the drool. "This is the best I've ever had!"

"Aw, if you think that's sweet, you ain't seen nothin' yet. I call this little number the Two-Apple Twirl."

I whimpered, and I thought I was going to burst right there.

Braeburn smiled. "It's made with Red and Golden Delicious!" He continued fanning the pie on the windowsill. The sweet, tart smell wafted over to my nose and made my head woozy. "Should be just about cool enough, I hope. Hoo, my fetlocks are tired."

I tapped my hoof on the hardwood table, ready for another slice. That first pie had been the tastiest thing I'd ever had, even though it had been a day old and Braeburn had insisted it was hardly any good anymore. Once I'd taken the first bite, I'd immediately devoured the rest, trying to get as much of that tart cinnamon apple flavor in my mouth as I could. Nothing like it.

I loudly sucked my teeth to get the last hints of it on my tongue as I looked around the homey kitchen. Yellows and faded reds made up most of the color scheme. Everything from an ancient looking wall clock to the curtains to the door was a lovely shade of apple, all of it warm and inviting. So much of it was made of wood, which took a while to get used to. Wood is such a luxury in pegasus cities, but they have plenty of it down on the ground. A coatrack stood by the door, holding up my safety goggles and Braeburn's worn hat. Pots and pans hung near an old black wood stove, ready to be grabbed, and lots of kitsch stared down at me from high shelves. An embroidered picture hung by the door to the outside, an apple tree with green lettering: "Bloom where you are planted." I scoffed at it. Yeah, it was a nice sentiment, but c'mon. No ambitions, just accept what you're given? No thanks.

Braeburn must have heard me. He turned his head and smiled warmly as he stretched out his fetlock, his silky mane bouncing against his forehead and shoulder. "Somethin' wrong?" The soft light fell on the side of his face, making his eyes shimmer like green gemstones on fire. He was so damn pretty, and he was definitely flirting with me. If I'd had any doubt that he'd swing my way, it evaporated in that moment.

I crossed my legs when I realized I was staring. "Oh, uh, nothing." I gestured around the kitchen with a hoof. "It's a nice place you've got here."

"Why, thank ya' kindly, but I'm just mindin' the place for my aunt while she's out travelin'. I'm actually from, uh…" Braeburn's voice lowered and became flat. "…out west." He grabbed a knife and quickly cut a piece of pie, setting it on a clean plate as the bounciness returned to his voice. "This should be done. Let me know whatcha think!"

Braeburn brought me the pie, but he hadn't even set it on the table before I was going to town. I'd thought the first one was superb, but this one took my breath away! The crust was flaky, the filling was gooey and sweet and comforting, like getting a hug from inside your belly, and I didn't even care that I'd just about burned my tongue off. My lips smacked as I gobbled it down, and I noticed Braeburn staring at me as I literally licked the plate clean.

"So, ya' liked it?" He crossed one foreleg over the other and tilted his head. Was he trying to be cute? It was working, but he had this air of hesitation around him that told me something wasn't quite what it seemed.

I've always been good at reading the signs. When you've been with as many ponies as I have, it comes naturally. There's the way they stand, like they're presenting something to you but trying to not be obvious about it. The shy ones always cock their head and speak a certain way, and I was totally getting that vibe from him. He was being especially coy, and I thought to myself, 'Heh, he's playing it close to the chest. Probably still in the closet. I'll have to give him a hoof with that.'

"I bucking loved it! Anything to wash it down with?" A small liquor cabinet sat on the floor near the stove, and naturally, I saw bottles of apple schnapps and apple whisky through the glass door. I pointed a hoof towards it. "How about one of those?"

Braeburn gave me a weird look, then turned his head and paused. He studied the cabinet like he'd never seen anything like it before. "Uh, I don't... think we should." I waited for him to continue. "It's my Aunt Honeycrisp's. Wouldn't want to intrude."

I blew some air out of my lips. "Pfft, she wouldn't mind. Family, right?" I stood up from the table and started towards the cabinet.

"I-I'd rather we didn't." There was something in the way he looked at me, something pleading and desperate that stopped me in my tracks. It... hurt. A little. "...Please."

Keep in mind, I've had a lot of fun with the 'Bolts. Alcohol is like water to me, and I don't usually let ponies tell me how to live my life. But I thought to myself, 'This guy's got some skeletons. Why are the cute ones always so sensitive? Probably shouldn't push it.' Still, he wasn't letting me have a drink, and I wasn't just gonna let that slide. I put on my best accent. "Aww, don't they teach yew tuh hold yrr liquor out west tharr?"

He snorted at me and started giggling. It made me tingle. "Aw, Nelly, you're terrible!"

"Whaaat?" I whined, pretending to be hurt. "I thought that was pretty good!"

"Naw, ya' sounded like some kinda hick. We may sound a bit different, but you ought not give us settler ponies any grief." His tone had a slightly sharper edge. "Don't forget who grows the food and makes the pies." He moved the dirty dishes to the sink, next to the half-melted ice pack he'd given me for my injury before we'd had the pie, and tension hung in the air like a thick mist. I knew what was coming, and my heart skipped a beat. "Can ya'… stay a while?"

I thought about how ticked off Spitfire would be once she found out I'd skipped practice. Didn't matter, though. She heard about everything eventually. She was probably already thinking of ways to make my training harder tomorrow. But I thought, buck it. I was having a good day, the first one in a long time. I was staying.

My wings unfurled, and I responded with a lot of enthusiasm. "Sure!" I don't usually get embarrassed, but I felt myself pull back and shrink a bit as I smiled at him. "I mean, I wouldn't wanna fly until we're sure I'm okay, right?"

"Great! I'll just take care of these dishes later." He turned back to me. "Sure ya' don't want another ice pack? It'd be no trouble, and ya' hit that tree pretty hard."

I shook my head around a few times. I had a weird headache, but nothing too extreme. "Nah, I'll be fine. Thanks, though."

"Well, okay, but let me know if ya' feel woozy." He walked through a doorway into another room, and I followed instinctively, catching another look at that sweet ass of his.

Then the words just fell out of my mouth. I must have been distracted. "Thanks for all this. I'm not used to this much love and care at work." My chest seized up. 'BUCK!' I'd just dropped the L-word on a closet case. I was sure he'd noticed, but when I looked up, he didn't seem to flinch.

Braeburn turned around in the other room – a study, complete with bookcases, a reading lamp, and plenty of seating, all in the same color scheme as the kitchen – and sat down on a large, old sofa. "That's... pretty tragic." He avoided looking at me. "You don't have anypony to take care of you? No family?" He turned his head toward me with sad eyes, and quickly added, "They didn't throw ya' out, did they?"

I felt a pang in my chest, and like clockwork, my head snapped up and I reared up and struck a pose. "I'm Soarin' Windsong! I don't need anypony." My default answer, completely wooden. "I'm having the time of my life, tons of fun, no problems at all!" My front hooves hit the floor before I looked around and gestured at nothing. The words burned my tongue. Every interview went like this. I told myself that, no, it's fine, Braeburn's cool, but the canned responses kept coming. "I just feel so lucky to have my career and all my fans." I was talking too fast and nearly sneered at myself. "What more could I want?"

Braeburn frowned. "Somepony you could count on would be nice."

"I…" My shoulders relaxed a little, but I snorted and spat out, "Yeah, it would." My mind started drifting to a powder blue pegasus, and I had to force myself not to think about her.

Braeburn's head quivered and pulled back, and he gave me this wide-eyed, frowning expression that made my stomach sink.

"Oh, hey, sorry!" I walked over to the sofa and sat down next to him. "Didn't mean you. You're a really sweet guy, you know that?"

He chuckled. "Aw, heck. That's what they all say." His voice had a hint of pain in it. "Frankly, I'm surprised you recovered so quickly."

My head still hurt. Badly. "Eh, injuries are pretty common in my line of work. You learn to walk it off."

"You keep mentionin' work, and I feel like I've seen you before." He raised an eyebrow at me. "Are you one of the Wonderbolts?"

I puffed up my chest and beat it twice with a hoof. "Captain of the stallion squad, in the flesh. Sounds like you've heard of us."

He flashed a wide smile. "Of course! I don't often get to the big cities, but I did catch a peek at the Santa Neigh show a while back."

I chuckled. "Yeah, that was a good show. Second one of that tour, actually. I love the early shows, when everypony's energy is still high. The crowd always seems to respond more, too." He was nodding along with everything I was saying. "You want an autograph or anything?"

"Oh, I don't need anythin' fancy like that. I'm perfectly content listenin' to your stories. It kinda reminds me of my old adventure books. You ever read the 'Free to Fly' series?"

A smile flashed across my face. "Dude! I love those!" I jumped onto the couch next to him. "It's my favorite series!"

Braeburn nodded at me. "Well, then you've got mighty fine tastes. I hope I'm not spoilin' anything if I talk about the ending of 'Broken Wings,' am I?"

I sat up tall. "Nah, I finished that one months ago." I raised two hooves in front of my face. "That part where Sky Hunter rushes at Von Hoofenstein?" I slammed my hooves together. "And bam!"

Braeburn smiled and nodded wildly. His voice picked up the pace. "And Whitewing comes outta nowhere to knock Hoofenstein's sword away? Hoo-ee! Thought I was gonna have a heart attack!"

I was talking faster, too. "And when Whitewing's at the edge of–"

"–the cliff with one wing broken? And Hoofenstein's goons–"

"–have him surrounded! Dude!"

"Yeah!"

"Dude!"

"Yeah!!!"

We talked like that for hours. We sat on that couch, in that dusty old room with the worn furniture and the dim light, gushing about books and the weather and Cloudsdale and anything that came to mind. I can't really tell you much about that conversation because, well, I don't remember much. I was just right there, in the moment, and everything felt natural and relaxed, like nothing I'd felt in months.

There was one thing in particular that I remember clearly, though, maybe two or three hours into it. We hadn't moved from the couch at all, but we'd each relaxed into our seats after a solid six minutes of laughing about that botched heist in book five, 'The Velvet Hoof.' Braeburn wiped a tear away and said, "Don't suppose you do much stuff like that in the Wonderbolts. Y'all seem so professional."

My mood dropped a little when I started thinking about work again, but I immediately saw the gentleness on Braeburn's face, and the heaviness evaporated. "Nah, we keep it pretty tight. Gotta give the audience what they pay for, right?"

Braeburn sat up, and his tone became a little mellower. "Is it like Sky Hunter says, though? About really being free of… of everything?" His eyes widened, and he quickly added, "I-I imagine it gets a little tedious, doin' the same thing all the time, right?"

My chest felt different around Braeburn. All the tightness and the weird pulling I'd felt every day was gone, and everything felt more open, more full. It all flowed, and the words just came to me. "Well… no, it doesn't. It's never gotten old." I looked down at the floor, and my voice got quieter. "And, actually… sometimes I think it's the only thing I have left."

Braeburn paused, scooted a little closer, and asked, "How do you mean?"

"Well…" I sighed and looked out the window. "It's like Sky Hunter says. When I'm up there, flying as hard as I can, I'm free. No matter what I'm worried about, I can always escape, and there's been a lot to worry about lately." My chest seized up a little when I realized I was spilling my guts to a stranger, but I didn't stop. I couldn't. "Life gets tough sometimes, and you just… you just feel like…"

Braeburn's voice was sad and low. "Like it's all just fallen apart."

I looked back at him. His eyes were cast downwards, partially covered by his mane. Something needled me deep inside my stomach. I didn't like seeing him like that. I had to cheer him up, so I put on a goofy voice and said, "Well, hey, at least you've still got your looks."

He chuckled and looked up a little. Our eyes met, and I felt a rush of blood to my head as he said, "Well, yeah, I suppose there's that."

We talked for another half-hour or so after that. I know Braeburn talked a little more about raising apples back home, and I threw in a few stories about partying in Cloudsdale, but almost everything else is a blur. While we sat there, nothing else in the world mattered. It made me feel the same way flying does, like I was floating, totally free of all the troubles that could try to weigh me down. It was peaceful. It was nice.

As comforting as it was, though, my desires eventually crept back into my mind. My blood felt hot. I wanted him. I wanted him so much more than I'd wanted anypony in recent memory. Looking back, I realize it was more than just his gorgeous body, but at the time, I was too stupid to see it. There was a lull in the conversation, and I took a moment to appreciate his face again. Everything about it was so perfect, so soft and strong and honest. It matched his voice.

He started to talk about his old house or something, but I cut him off. "I really like talking to you, Braeburn. You're special, you know that?"

Braeburn stared at me, dreamy-eyed and with a warm smile. He looked sweet and innocent, full of puppy love, and I wanted to bang him right then and there. I thought to myself, 'This. This is what I need. It'll be good for him, too. Just gotta close the deal. Here we go, back in the saddle. Ask him about himself, then get him on his back when the conversation opens up.' I felt a little dirty at those thoughts, and not in a good way. I pressed on anyway. "So, 'out west' is a big place. Where you from?"

His smile flat-lined. "Oh, uh..." He looked around the room before turning back to me. "I'm from Appleloosa. It's a small town of settler ponies. Just started up a couple years ago. You should, uh, come for a visit sometime." His tone was low and heavy.

'Small town boy. Alright.' I nodded, looking up and down his body. My voice turned to a purr. "Well, I like what I've seen so far. Is Appleloosa full of strong, sexy workhorses, or are you the only one?"

Braeburn blushed, and his eyes darted to the side. His breathing got heavier, and he shied away from my compliment. "Aw, I don't know anythin' about that."

I chuckled at him. "Heh, suuuuuure you don't." His breathing kept up its pace, but his smile faded. I figured he needed a little push. The closeted ponies usually do. "I bet all the stallions are after you back home." I scooted closer and leaned in, spreading my wings out. "You must be beating them off all day."

He scooted away. After a moment of silence, he groaned, "Ya' shouldn't tease." His posture sank, and he stared at the floorboards. "It's... it's not nice."

I suddenly felt very, very small. Part of me realized I was throwing away something perfectly wonderful just to get off, so I leaned back and turned away. "Sorry." There was quiet, and I looked back over to him. "I wasn't teasing, though. You really do have a–" My eyes fell onto a purple and yellow mark on his flank, right on his cutie mark. How had I missed it before? "You, uh, look like you bruised your apple there." I pointed a hoof at his injury.

His head perked up, and he looked where I pointed. After staring a moment, his eyes widened, and he shifted his weight with visible discomfort. "Aw, it's fine." I didn't believe him. "I've had worse."

I cocked an eyebrow. "Jeez, not too much worse, I hope." Something inside me pushed me forward, and I rested a hoof on his leg. A voice that didn't sound like my own came out of my mouth. "I… I don't want you to hurt."

Braeburn sighed and sat up straight, keeping his eyes on my hoof. There was silence. I was used to being the center of attention, but I was unnerved by the way he was staring. I felt his eyes drag across my body as he slowly looked up, pausing a moment to ogle my waist. If I'd been my usual self in that moment, I probably would have said something stupid. 'You like what you see, baby? Plenty to go around.' I wasn't myself, though. I felt... naked. Yeah, I know, I wasn't wearing anything, but it was different. My heart beat faster, and I couldn't take my eyes off of him. Braeburn was examining me, and for the first time in a long while, I felt vulnerable, exposed.

It never got to me during shows, even when I was starting out. Sure, there are thousands of ponies looking at me with bated breath, just waiting for me to pull off an amazing stunt or fail spectacularly. It doesn't matter to them – it's a show, and they want action. Doesn't bother me. I'm out there, soaring above all of them, in the zone and barely aware they exist unless I want to feed off their energy. I feel invincible. But with Braeburn, it was the opposite. Everything in me tingled, like I was a display in a museum that everypony was staring at. I was scared, but after the conversation we'd been having, I didn't want to hide anything from him.

I felt every twitch of his velvety leg, took in every flick of the ears or of that gorgeous tail. His gaze traveled up my chest, making my heart skip a beat, and he took a long look at my wings. As his eyes met mine, I saw something. I saw everything – fear, desire, joy, lust, sadness, calm. It was all so... honest. We each took in a short breath, our eyes locked onto each other. My mind went blank, totally clear except for one thought, this idea that I'd had a thousand times with other ponies. But this time, it struck me completely paralyzed.

'He's going to kiss me.'

Was I right! Braeburn shut his eyes and practically leapt forward, tackling me onto the couch. His lips mashed against mine, and I heard a shivering moan escape his throat. His hooves wrapped around me, groping at my back as we sank into the plush seat. It had been a long time since anypony had jumped me so hard. As I was gathering my wits, he began sucking on my lower lip, nibbling on it just a little. He was sooooo into it.

Heck, I was, too. Here was this beautiful stallion, just the right mix of rugged and delicate, all over me. I started kissing back, running a hoof down his side. That got him to shudder a bit, but not as much as a moment later when I started kneading his flank. I forced my tongue into his mouth, wrestling with his as my free hoof ran through his soft, heavenly mane and pulled his head closer.

He started pressing his whole body into mine. His hips moved gracefully, tantalizingly, sending waves of pleasure up my spine. I held him close, squeezing him tightly and taking the lead. We almost rolled off the small couch a few times, but I was always there to catch us. Oh, dude, the way his legs rubbed against mine... They were so powerful. I consider myself the better athlete, but I couldn't compete with those legs – so strong, but his movements were so tender.

I broke away from our kiss, gripping him tightly around the chest. Braeburn melted in my forelegs. My face nuzzled against his, and his scent hit me hard, a mix of sweat, apples, and lust that made me dizzy. I licked him once on the face before kissing him across the cheek and down his neck. I caught a glimpse of his lips quivering as I worked his neck with my mouth, sucking on him and lightly biting him on the shoulder. He moaned loudly, and his muscles tensed as I lost myself in his toned body.

His breathing grew heavy, and his body grew rigid. I held him closer. His body heaved once. I thought, 'Maybe he wants it a little rougher?' and squeezed harder.

The way he yelped nearly broke my heart. I froze. I fought to keep my hips in check and my body in place, afraid I'd hurt him somehow. He loomed over me, and for the second time that day I felt something wet on my forehead. When had he started crying? I looked up into those beautiful green eyes, but all I saw was fear. He looked so fragile, and my heart sank at the thought that I'd done something to him.

We stared at each other for a few seconds before he finally sputtered out a few broken words. "Suh... sorry. I think I have to–" He sniffled and stopped looking at me directly. "Gotta. I didn't... You should go."

I blinked once or twice, stunned. He didn't move off of me, so I figured his heart wasn't really in sending me away. 'Okay,' I thought, 'So he's got some issues. No big deal. I've still got this.' Dozens of lewd images popped up in my mind, and I was too far gone to think straight. I couldn't see Braeburn anymore. All I could see was some temporary relief.

Instead of getting up from the couch, I wrapped one hoof behind my head and stroked my chest with another, giving him my best come-hither leer and speaking in a soft, low voice. "Aw, c'mon, babe. We were just getting to the good part." Bucking my hips up into his, I added, "Don't tell me you don't want more of this." I took the hoof from my chest and... ran it up his leg, and...

* * * * *

Soarin' pauses. His face and wings droop as he draws lazy circles on the foreleg rest next to him.

I speak first, gently. "Yes?" I feel a twang of guilt in my chest. I know the story I'm after isn't all sunshine and rainbows, but seeing Soarin' there, knowing I'm forcing him to relive something painful, makes me question my convictions.

He sighs. "You have to understand. I try so, so hard to not let my anger get the best of me, but I was stressed. It was a weird time." There's another pause, and I wonder how hard I should press him. "My dad wanted me to go into airball instead of high-speed flying, you know." He looks at me. "When I was young. I'd liked it at first, especially since I'd hit puberty so early. I absolutely dominated, and my coach used to tell me that I had a real killer's instinct. I like the ring of it, and a few seasons in, I started throwing my weight around more."

Part of me wants to get back to Braeburn, but I shouldn't interrupt him.

Soarin' looks past me, and his eyes glaze over. "There was this one game, Cloudsdale versus Stratus City, final period, all tied up. I got the ball and rushed the end zone when this wimpy little guy flew right in front of me. Kid was a shrimp, but he had guts. All I could think about was how much he'd regret getting in my way. He was expecting me to evade, where he could get me out of bounds, but I saw right through his game.

"I plowed into him. No checking my speed, just full-on, totally illegal ramming into him, hoof-first. Kid crumbled, and a well-placed punt got the ball into the goal. I felt amazing. Nopony was going to keep me from getting what I wanted.

"But, when I looked around, nopony was cheering. I looked down and saw the kid squirming on the ground, total submission and fear on his face whenever he looked up at me, and my blood ran cold. That was the first day I remember ever hating myself. I buried that 'killer instinct' after that, and I wasn't a star player anymore. I quit at the end of the season, and I promised myself I wouldn't let it happen again. I wouldn't ever get so angry, so obsessed with getting what I wanted that I would hurt another pony."

Soarin' looks up at me, eyes pleading and head hung low. I chew on my lower lip for a second and ask, "What happened with Braeburn?"

It's quiet.

* * * * *

I ran my hoof up his leg, but he slapped it away.

…and I lost it. "Ow! Buck! What was that for?" I hadn't been denied like that in a long time, and with everything else on my mind, well...

"You some kinda idiot!?" he shouted through the sobs. "I told you to leave!" He didn't seem to notice that he still had me pinned down.

I wanted to hit him. Sweet Luna, I wanted to hit him. Looking at Braeburn, all my fury came flooding back – anger at my squad mates for being so competitive, at Sapph for toying with me, at myself for being so messed up, and all of it was pointed straight at this golden pony that was looking down at me. My cheeks flushed and I growled at him. "Fine!" I shoved him off of me – hard – and made a show of standing up and slowly walking away. My wings unfurled as I entered the kitchen, and I shouted at him without looking back, "Have fun in the closet, you psycho!" I practically kicked the door down. "Say 'Hi' to your dresses for me."

"I..." He mumbled something as I stomped outside. I wish I'd known what it was. Maybe it would have stopped me. Maybe I would have turned around right there and gone back to him and made everything better. And maybe it would have stopped a lot of the pain.

I didn't go back, though. I just flew away.

Without thinking, I tore into the sky, rage fueling my flight as blood pumped rapidly through my veins, causing a loud pounding in my head. My muscles felt tight, and I ground my teeth, and I cursed at a bird that was singing nearby. Air filled my lungs before I snorted it out, and the warm evening sun felt really nice and the trees were really pretty and my wings started to relax a little and...

And I didn't stay angry for long. By the time I was a few hundred meters away from the farm, the guilt had taken over. I kept thinking, 'The buck is wrong with me? Braeburn's a great guy, and he's the only pony I've had a real conversation with since I-don't-know-when. And I flipped out after I was the one that pushed him too hard. How the buck is that fair?'

The sun was nearly setting. I knew I wanted to go back to Braeburn, even if he didn't want me there. I wanted to apologize. But my pride kept jabbing me from inside. But I'd hurt somepony that hadn't deserved it. And I was just leaving him. But I didn't want to dwell on it, didn't want to get messed up because of one guy I'd spent a few hours with. Yes, he'd shown me something special, but that had just made me all the angrier when it had been taken from me. I didn't know what to do, so I just flew away.

I just flew away.

Chapter 5 - Back to the Grind

I didn't go back to the Academy that night. Everypony else would have already hit the showers and been on the way home. Wouldn't have been much of a point. I'd done most of my endurance laps, and Spitfire was going to chew me out either way. That I could handle.

Another sleepless night, though? Not so much. I'd doze off for half an hour at a time, maybe, but... you know that hollow gnarling feeling you get in your stomach when you know you've forgotten something important? That feeling like something's eating you from the inside? Yeah, it was that.

By the time I got up on Friday morning, everything ached. My eyes were dry. My temples throbbed. I figured it was dehydration, so I went down to the kitchen and stuck a glass under the faucet. The cool glass soothed my hoof, but the rush of water out of the tap sounded as loud as a waterfall. I winced and turned it off before the glass was full. It was worth the pain, though. The cool water washed over my tongue, and I opened the back of my throat (don't ask how I learned to do that) to let it all drain into me.

Despite the noise, I ended up chugging three and a half glasses before finding some food. There were a few apples on the counter, but, you know, they weren't too appetizing. Instead, I went for the alfalfa. Boring, but filling. Good after a hangover, and it felt like I had one heck of a hangover.

I settled down with my bowl of plain food and listened to my teeth grind away. Like every other room in my condo, the kitchen didn't have much in it. Cloudy white walls, cloudy white counters, an ice box, and enough tables and chairs to have a few friends over. Just the basics. Less to clean up that way. For a second, I considered adding some decorations – a few small things to give it some color. Maybe a splash of yellow.

Before I realized it, my body was rocking back and forth. The alfalfa tasted like nothing. I tapped a hoof on the floor and tried to chew faster and let out a few big sighs just to give the room some sound. When that wasn't enough, I hummed a club song I liked. My empty home didn't respond.

I stood up before the silence drove me totally nuts, halfway done with my meal. Even though I was safe in my home, it felt like something was lurking, like it was about to pounce and start chasing me. My breathing got heavier, and to cut the silence, I forced myself to chuckle and say out loud, "Heh, creepy, right?"

Nopony answered. With another quick glance around, I bolted out the door and took to the air.

Another flight through the twilight. Another morning alone. Same old grind.

I showed up at the academy early again. Second day in a row. A few of the recruits were already running through the obstacle course, practicing take-offs and formation flying, you name it. They were hungry for a spot on the team. 'Good for them,' I thought. I didn't see that green pony anywhere. Wish I had gotten her name.

My brain tingled, but in a good way. I felt that tingle every day at the academy. See, your head gets into the right place, and suddenly you're focused on what you have to do. Of course, it helps when you're a leader, when you know that other ponies look up to you and you do a damn good job. I took in a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and puffed out my chest as I marched into the Green Room.

Hm? Oh, yeah. The Green Room.

It's not really green, and it's not really a room, and no, I don't know why it's called that. It's actually a long, polished metal building like most of the others on the grounds. Everything inside is right angles and cleanliness. The doors swing open without squeaking, and the garbage cans never have anything in them. Even the old drinking fountain in the middle of the main hallway looks like it's never been used. I walked past a few small offices and ducked through a door with a big placard that just read, "Preparation Room A."

The room inside was cramped, only big enough for about sixteen ponies, but at least I didn't need to be there for long. Rows of chairs filled most of the space, and a projector without any slides sat in the middle, aimed at the white wall in front. Four more chairs sat against the front wall, facing the rest. I sat in the second one over and stared at the ceiling, thinking to myself, 'Yeah, new day. Formations today, show tomorrow, and I can forget all about what's-his-name.' My expression faltered and I turned my head away. "His name's Braeburn."

"Didn't catch that, Soarin'." I snapped to attention as Spitfire walked into the room, slides in hoof. She kept talking as she set up the projector. "You're early again. Doing any better today?" Her voice didn't have an edge to it. She wasn't yelling about skipping out on practice. She seemed... relaxed. It was super off-putting.

I sat up straight. "One-hundred percent!" I almost believed myself.

"Good, but don't make a habit of disobeying orders." She'd spoken softly, like she was talking about the weather. She turned the projector on, and a dim image of an agenda appeared on the wall next to me. It was hard to make out, but I knew it probably had details for the next day's show on it. "It makes the rest of us look bad."

I shook my head involuntarily and thought, 'So she knows? That wasn't even a slap on the hoof, let alone a strong reprimand.' My ears folded against my head, and my voice came out a lot weaker than I wanted. "Yes, ma'am."

Spitfire took a seat next to me and stared toward the door. She had the usual stoic look on her face, but something seemed a bit off. I think her jaw was a little tighter than usual, and that's saying something. A couple times, she took in a quick breath and opened her mouth, and I thought she was going to speak, but nothing came out.

So we waited.

The squad members eventually trickled in, but nopony was late, of course. One of them hit the lights. Spitfire took on her leadership persona again, and we spent almost an hour going over every detail of the next day's performance. We'd been over the formations dozens of times, but Spitfire always took great pains to point out every single flaw she'd seen in practice that week. The rest of the 'Bolts always called this meeting the "One-Mare Firing Squad."

"I don't think I can even call you Wonderbolts after your pathetic showing this week!" Spitfire stomped a hoof, and everypony sat up perfectly straight, eyes wide. Spitfire always wore her sunglasses to this meeting – you can't relax if she might be looking at you – and her booming voice echoed like thunder in the tiny room. "For some reason, the fans still pay for tickets to our shows, but if we can't get a simple triple barrel roll down…"

In the second row, High Winds sucked in a sharp breath.

"…then we won't have to worry about fans for long! High Winds! Care to explain why you think you can get away with a sloppy performance?"

Everypony listened as, one by one, Spitfire exposed their weaknesses in front of the team. Some got off relatively easy, some not so much.

The anticipation is the worst part, knowing that you're about to be taken down a peg. As co-captain, I was exempt. I just sat there while Spitz doled out the punishment with cold, surgical precision, and I'd occasionally throw in something like, "But your take-offs were great!" just to even it out a little.

A few of the bolder pegasi questioned Spitfire's criticism, but that just got her to raise her voice and talk over them. As she yelled, my mind kept drifting to Braeburn and how I'd treated him. 'The team signed up to get yelled at. Braeburn didn't. No! Don't think about that. Just freaking move on already.' It made me itch, and my confident smile had turned to a sneer by the end of the meeting.

Spitfire wrapped up with some instructions about the new formations. By then, my skin felt hot, and I'd started chewing on my tongue just to keep from tapping my hoof. My stomach felt heavy, and my breathing had become labored. 'Just let us go fly, Spitfire.'

The meeting finished, and everypony started out toward the training grounds. I pushed past a few of my teammates and into the hallway, eager to get my mind back on the show, when I felt a hoof tap me on the shoulder. I jumped a bit and whipped around, trying not to bark at whoever had startled me. My eyes caught an aqua-colored mare with a white mane and tail.

Fleetfoot.

I could handle the way she gossiped about everypony, the way she always tried to improvise during shows, and her general lack of respect for authority. What I couldn't take, though, was the awful way she treated others to their faces, always pestering them and trying to get a rise out of them for her own amusement. I hate to characterize a fellow Wonderbolt negatively, but she was a total bitch. She looked at me and said, "You okay, Soar'?"

"Not in the mood right..." I felt something snap in my skull, and I raised an eyebrow at her. "What?"

Her tone and her eyes were gentle, genuine, even through her slight lisp. I knew something was up. "I said, are you okay, Soarin'? You've seemed kinda messed up lately."

A few others walked past us.

I huffed. "Yeah, I'm fine." I waited for her to walk away, but she didn't. "Thanks for asking. We've got practice to get to." I started trotting off, head low with a pouting lip and furrowed eyebrows. I figured if I hardened up, I could get through the show, and everything would be okay.

Fat chance. "That's just it, though," she called after me. "You haven't been giving much feedback lately. You don't seem like you're all there, and practicing with you has kinda seemed like a waste of time." I told myself that she was trying to get under my skin and that I should just keep walking. "You're not being a captain."

I stopped. That was it. I turned around and stomped back to her, unblinking. "Yeah? Well, here's some feedback: you're left bank turns are sloppy and your dives aren't tight enough. Fire Streak constantly has to adjust his speed to keep formation, since you don't seem to care about consistency." My voice got louder. The squad members walking out of the meeting room were turning to look at me. "You take too long to memorize formations, your landing accuracy is a freaking joke, and to top it all off–" I got right up in her face. "–you can't seem to figure out that maybe your captain is doing just fine without a certain mu–" I choked on that word. I was about to call her mush-mouthed. It was so mean, something she couldn't do anything about, but I was about to say it.

I'd already felt awful, this was like getting dropped into an ice-cold lake with weights on my wings and knowing I'd thrown myself in.

Fleetfoot stared back at me with wide eyes, trying and failing to hide the quiver of her lip. The expression looked all too familiar. My heart locked up.

I backed off, closed my eyes, and took a deep, shaky breath. "I'm sorry, Fleetfoot. You didn't deserve that." I looked away. My voice was soft and low. "You're a great flier, and all your maneuvers are super smooth, smooth enough to make me jealous." I cast a glance her way. She had her head cocked to the side. "And, yeah, you're right. I haven't been myself lately, and you were just trying to help. Sorry." Heart still pounding, I extended a hoof in apology.

She didn't take it. Instead, she grunted, trotted past, and gave me a flat, "Sure."

I hung my head and caught a glimpse of Fire Streak staring at me, shifting uncomfortably when I looked at him. I really shouldn't have called him out. He backed away when I finally walked past him to exit the Green Room.

My squad mates avoided me for the rest of the day, as much as they could, and I didn't sleep well that night.

Saturday's show was a private gig. Somepony rich and important was throwing a fundraiser or something at a country club in the Manehatten suburbs, and getting out of the usual routine was a breath of fresh air. The changing room that had been set up for us – a large, stuffy gaming room with all the pool and ping pong tables pushed to the side – smelled like the maid had been worried about getting fired and had drenched everything in chemicals. At least it was clean, which was more than I could say for some of the venues we flew at, and there was a locked safe for us to put our bags and equipment in.

My blue Wonderbolts uniform with the yellow lightning bolts fit snugly on me, tight but not constricting, like an extra layer of skin. "I'd do me," I whispered, flashing myself a sultry look in one of the polished mirrors. My shoulders automatically straightened out, and I stood tall. My expression changed to a wide, knowing smile. "Aaaaand who wouldn't, captain?" My voice was getting louder. I flicked my tail as my muscles buzzed and my heart beat faster. I started nodding at myself. "Yeah. Yeah!" I jumped from side to side and lowered my head, ready to charge my reflection. "Who the best? You the best! Who the best? You the best!" I galloped in place in a tight cadence. I took in deep breaths and snorted them out. My wings shot outward. "Alright, colts, let's do this!"

I turned to the team, my team, who'd instinctively gathered around me. A few of the newer members looked nervous after my little display. The rest looked bored.

I'd change that. "Stallion squad! Single file!" The five pegasi in the lineup snapped to attention and formed a perfectly straight line in front of me. I trotted up and down the group, back straight, wings fully extended. My voice took on a low, raspy quality that I only used for them. "Stallions! You might think today's performance is no big deal." I pivoted quickly and reversed my direction. "You might think that a private show with a small audience has no effect on our immaculate reputation." I stomped a hoof and let the echo reverberate a moment. "You'd. Be. WRONG!" I continued marching up and down the ranks. "If any of you so much as moves a feather out of formation, I'll call up the tabloids myself and tell them you've been discharged! Do I make myself clear?"

Five deep voices shouted back all at once. "Sir yes sir!"

"Good! Being a Wonderbolt means being the best. Not the best? Then we have no place for you here. So that just leaves one question." I stopped in front of Cloudhoof, our newest recruit, with my nose mere inches from his. His face was stoic, his jaw was set, and he showed no fear. "Are you the best?"

They responded together. "Sir yes sir!"

"Are you going to be perfect?"

"Sir yes sir!"

"And are we gonna get totally wasted on the customer's coin tonight?"

One of them stifled a laugh. Faces scrunched, trying to hide smiles. "Sir yes sir!"

"That's what I like to hear! Wonderbolts, salute!" Hooves shot to foreheads in flawless unison. "Stallion squad, scramble!" Wings beat. Air rushed around us. Six ponies lifted off and blazed out of that room in perfect formation.

They made me proud.

Honestly, I don't remember much about the show. The private gigs tend to blend together, especially since the routine doesn't change much. Bunch of fancy-pants rich types showing off to their friends or benefactors or whatever. Don't get me wrong – I appreciate all my fans, I really do – but it's so much better when you can hear the roar of the crowd. Of course, we wouldn't do these smaller shows if the cash wasn't there, and the meet-and-greet receptions afterwards are usually pretty great.

This one was just okay. A group of about forty guests mingled with us in a lush garden just after sunset. A live music group played slow, classical background noise, and few wispy pieces of white cloth decorated the tables and hedges. We got the usual adoration from the fans, signed a few autographs, and I found myself scavenging the hors d'oeuvres table. Most of it was upscale garbage except for this cold, salty spread with a cherry tomato on a stale cracker. It was the only thing I could stomach. I was stuffing my face with a few of them when I heard a pony clear her throat behind me.

I turned and saw Spitfire. She had her diplomat face on: a warm smile with a stare that could cut you in half. She spoke tersely. "Soarin', one of your fliers is completely blitzed at a public function. Why is one of your fliers completely blitzed at a public function, Soarin'?"

I looked just past her and saw Cloudhoof laughing way too loudly and getting way too close to a mare in a fancy dress. Newbies. What can you do? I looked back at Spitfire. She knew about my little pep talks, so it was useless trying to fool her.

Still...

"I have nooooo idea!" I sang at her, twisting my head in mock deep thought as a goofy smile crawled across my face. I shoved another cracker in my mouth. "Maybe you should... Spitty?" She was walking away, head hung a little lower. Not much. Not enough to tell if you didn't know her like I did, but I could still see it. It left me in a daze.

I must have been staring, since a yellow earth pony spoke up in a low, sultry voice. "Like what you see, hot stuff?" I jerked back to reality, finally noticing him. His body wasn't bad, but the tight clothes and weird mane style made it look like he was trying to hide his age. It wasn't working.

I hadn't been with an older stallion like that before, though, and he was clearly into me. I swallowed, narrowing my eyes and putting on the old Soarin' charm. "Nah, those clothes look terrible. You should probably take them off." Easy.

"Heh. Well then, let's find someplace quiet so you can give me some fashion advice."

I was all over it. He started walking out of the garden. I followed for a little while, but I stopped when I brushed past Fleetfoot. My chest tightened up, and part of me wanted to ignore her. Most of me, actually. But I couldn't. "Hey… Fleetfoot? Great job tonight." Fleetfoot paused, but she didn't look my way. I kept talking to the back of her head. "You could still use some work with the bank turns, but you killed that dive in the second act. Your consistency was better, too."

She hesitated and gave me a weak, "Thanks," before continuing on her way. I felt... better.

"Didn't forget about me, did you, stud?" The older stallion had come back for me. He grabbed my hoof and led me back to the club house, and I was looking forward to something wild and different.

He was... alright. Kinda sluggish and hard to deal with. Had to have everything his own way, too, but I told him that nopony makes a mare out of me. We didn't do much, and it ended before anything interesting happened. I don't think I even got his name.

Whoever he was, he didn't talk to me for the rest of the night, and by the time I'd gotten my suit back on and went back out to the garden, the crowd had cooled. There's a lot of novelty in meeting celebrities, but after a few hours of mingling, the excitement wears off. I wandered around looking for somepony to talk to. One of the guests, a mare in a stunning blue dress that showed off some seriously sexy curves, let me know that Fire Streak had taken Cloudhoof home. Good for him, but it left me alone with nopony to chat with.

Luckily, there's always one thing to do at a party like that, so I found myself at the bar. The setup was nice and the seats were comfortable, so I just sat there, drinking out of boredom just to feel the fire in my body. I'd take a shot, stare at the empty glass, and ponder. 'Eh, so the older dude wasn't mind-blowing. Still got to please a fan, though, right? ' But my thoughts would always float to the same topic. 'Why'd he have to have a yellow coat, though? At least I didn't curse him out, and he was okay. Braeburn would have been better, though.' That thought made me droop a little lower each time, and I'd order another shot whenever that cowpony showed up in my mind. I drank a lot that night.

Whenever the shot glass was empty, I'd play with. Spin it around on the bar, admiring it. It was seemed solid and fragile at the same time. It couldn't hold much liquor, but it what it had was strong. I kept thinking, 'I like this glass,' through a drunken haze. Don't know why, but I just became really attached, so I swiped it. Almost left it at the bar, and I can't tell you how hard it was to get it into my breast pocket. Honestly, I'm surprised it didn't shatter. I still have that glass.

The rest of the night was a blur, but I remember stumbling around the party for a while before walking a long way and having a conversation with two ponies whose voices seemed disappointed. My whole body felt rancid, like it was melting, but the cool night air in my lungs kept me going. I wasn't in the garden anymore. A bell rang. The ground turned plush, and one of the ponies talked to a stranger. We went into a red tunnel. There was a click, and I was nudged towards a box. I flopped onto it. It was soft.

And I slept.

"Mister Windsong?" It seemed like no time at all, but I woke up the next morning to a knock on the door and a feminine voice. She wasn't yelling, but it sure felt like it in my head. "This is your wake-up call. Check out is in half an hour."

I moaned as my eyes cracked open, and I saw a wrinkled bedspread beneath me. Blinking a few times, it became clear that I was in a motel room. Cheap art hung on the walls above a couch and a desk, and a few pinpoints of light sneaked in through the drapes. My stomach knotted when I saw the room had a second bed that had been slept in, but I figured nothing creepy had happened when I saw my saddle bag near the door. It sat there with a folded piece of paper on top.

"Mister Windsong? Are you alright?"

"Yes!" My voice was hoarse, and screaming didn't help my headache. "Sorry. Yeah, I'm fine. I'll be out in a few minutes. I'm good. Thanks." I didn't hear a response.

After taking a moment to appreciate the fine taste in my mouth – sour with a hint of regret – I got out of the bed. My head spun a little, but I shook it off and walked over to my bag. I sat down and unfolded the paper. It said something like:

Morning, Soarin',

You know, you really should be more careful. There were a lot of important ponies there, and I wouldn't be surprised if one of them got a picture of you acting like an asshole.

You're welcome, by the way. I ended up staying here overnight to make sure you were okay and to keep this stallion from taking you home. He kept saying you were his fashion designer or something. Total weirdo. You're lucky I didn't just leave you for him. Don't forget it.

See you tomorrow, Captain.

~Fleetfoot

I read it four times. She'd been very, very kind, and it made me rethink a few things.

I wanted to get out of there, but I wanted a shower more. After a quick glance at the clock, I got in and let the cool water wake me the rest of the way up. It didn't take long to get my things together after that – my suit was folded up in my bag, still wrapped around the shot glass – and I checked out without any issues. I had half expected Fleetfoot to pay for the motel room, but I suppose that would have been too much to ask.

Flying home was a drag. My wings felt heavy and wobbly. The sun felt like it was twisting a rusty nail into each of my eyes, but the world kept spinning whenever I shut them. I managed to stay on course, though, but it took me much longer than usual to get home.

I stopped by a hayburger stand when I got back to Cloudsdale. The food was greasy and heavy and did a great job of absorbing the rest of the alcohol from my system. I ended up ordering enough for lunch and dinner and taking half of it back home.

Stumbling in through the door, I heaved a sigh and started giving in to my exhaustion. With a stomach full of food and a head that kept pounding, I wanted a nap. I threw the food and my saddlebag onto the kitchen table and took a long, hard look at the couch in my parlor. It was tempting, but… 'Nope,' I thought. 'We're going to do this right.' I was still in a fog and ready to pass out, but I hauled myself up the stairs, down the hall, and into my room before collapsing on my bed.

And to top it all off, I had a bad dream that night.

Chapter 6 - Machine

* * * * *

Soarin's eyes dart around the room. "It was pretty dumb."

I stop jotting down notes and pause. I wait for more and tickle my chin with my quill. Soft spot, I guess. "Dumb?" C'mon, Syn. Open-ended questions. Try again. "Why do you say it was dumb?"

He stretches his neck and rolls his head around. "Eh, ya' know. One of those stupid dreams you have from time to time."

"I've had those. One time, I dreamed everypony was running away from this giant pink blob monster, but he turned out to be super friendly. We ended up playing Prance Prance Rebellion in our underwear." Soarin' snorts as his lip twists up, and he chuckles quietly to himself a few times. "Hey, it's not that stupid." Am I sure about that?

"Yeah, it kinda is." He shakes his head a few times. "Had a nice ending, though."

"Yours didn't?" Here we go.

"Well, not so much." His voice has some bounciness to it again, like when I first walked in. "I was somewhere in a big city and there were all these ponies around me, but I couldn't see their faces–" He's speaking too quickly. "–and then every time I blinked, BAM! Another one would be missing until there was just one left and it started cuddling up to me. And it felt nice, but out of nowhere I just punch it." He jabs the air in front of him. His leg brace squeaks. "Then I can kinda see the face and I see it's got a black eye annnnnd..." He looks down and shakes his hooves in the air like he's got a giant snow globe. "I can't make out if the other pony is supposed to be Braeburn or me."

"Wow. That sucks."

Soarin' slouches back into the couch with a deep breath. "You're tellin' me."

* * * * *

I woke up sitting bolt upright and sucking in air. It felt like I was in a tailspin, completely disoriented, and I had to examine everything in my room to calm myself down. I bounced a little and felt the softness of my king-sized cloud bed under me. 'Good. Good, not falling.' In the dim morning light, I could see that the blue door out of my room was right where it was supposed to be, and my dresser sat across the room with a bunch of my stuff on top: awards, hair gel I didn't need, a set of Wonderbolts bobbleheads, my camera, and some dusty old trinkets that I told myself I'd clean up eventually. There was also a picture frame on there, but I had it turned down so I couldn't see it. I hated that picture, but I couldn't bring myself to throw it out.

Thinking about it made my stomach churn, but I kept telling myself that I was safe. My two light blue bedside tables sat on the floor on either side of me. I kept the left one full of high-quality booze – never know when you might need it – and I peeked into the one on the right. All my toys and "trophies" were still there, and I caught a glimpse of myself nearly falling off the bed.

My closet's doors are made of mirrors. It's great during sex, yeah, but that's not why I like them. I keep my bedroom pretty bare - no posters, no wall-hanging pictures, just one window on the opposite wall, and everything is white or light blue. When you're sitting on the bed and you look in the mirror, you feel free. You feel like you're floating past all your problems, and there's nothing that can weigh you down. Looking into the big, open space helps me ease into the morning.

Eventually, I glanced at the alarm clock next to me and realized I'd slept through the rest of Sunday afternoon and all night. Between the hangover and how bucked up my sleep schedule had been those days, I wasn't really surprised. Most ponies dread Mondays, but then again, most ponies don't have a week full of stunt flying to look forward to.

I rolled out of bed and gave myself a pep talk as I walked up to the closet. "You made it, Soar. You can get back to your old self, rouse up the team, and be over Braeburn by lunch. New week, new start. Smooth winds from here on out, and all you gotta do is smile and look sexy." I licked my lips and gave myself a leery smile. "You can handle it, right, stud?"

Sliding the closet door open, I saw my uniform: a crisp, dark blue shirt with gold buttons, patches of merit, and those shoulder tab things that make you look badass. It was perfectly pressed, just like the other three uniforms that hung next to it. Say what you will about me, but I know how to iron a shirt and make it look immaculate. I took it with me to the bathroom, took a quick shower, and slipped it on. I looked good.

I felt good, too. The putrid smell of the day-old hayburger I'd left in the kitchen killed my appetite, but that just got me out the door faster and into the morning sun, where I tossed the bag in the garbage bin.

"Morning, Soarin'!" My neighbor Dazzling Sundrop waved at me as she grabbed her paper.

"Goooooood morning, my dear! You're looking ravishing today." She did. Her yellow mane shimmered in the sun, and her coat looked very well groomed, just like always. Sometimes I think she puts on makeup just to get the mail.

"Oh, stop, you," she called out. Before heading back indoors, she threw in, "Have a great day!"

"I will." I said so mostly to myself, and it felt natural. It felt right.

My flight over to the academy was easy-breezy. The winds were in my favor, the sky was mostly clear, and the whole world had this lightness to it. I took extra time to drink it all in. I even did a few quick loops and barrel rolls whenever I passed another pegasus. Got a few cheers and brightened up the day for a few fans. Why not, right?

But as I landed on academy grounds and walked towards the Green Room for my first meeting, something buzzed in the air, something off-putting. The breeze caught my mane from a weird direction, the clouds under my hooves felt crunchier than usual, and all the 'Bolts I passed gave me this overly-friendly smile.

I bumped into Fire Streak just outside the building, and he trotted up to me, all smiles. "Morning, captain!" He punched me on the shoulder. "Didn't think you were into older dudes. How'd it go?"

"Eh, not great." I cast a glance at the Green Room doors. "Wouldn't recommend it." I half-closed my eyes and smirked at him. "Though I suppose you're pretty desperate."

"Ha! Buck off, dude. I scored with that hot unicorn. Made her moan all night." He flashed a smile back at me.

"Ah, so she got a good look at your face, then." We shared a quick laugh. "Thanks for taking care of Cloudhoof after the show."

"Yeah, he had a rough night. He almost cost me my score, but it didn't take too long to dump his ass at this local hotel. Newbies. What can you do?" I like Fire Streak. We've always been on the same wavelength.

Spitfire passed behind me, wearing an outfit that matched mine but with a few more decorations. "Hurry up, Soarin'. The roster's not going to fill itself out." She was surly and direct. It put me at ease.

I gave her a nod and turned back to Fire Streak. "Gotta go, Two." I gave him a bro-hoof. "Work on your stability today."

He gave me a quick salute. "Sure thing, One. Have fun sitting in meetings and filling out rosters all day." He winked in a way that made my skin crawl. "And give me the lead sometime. I’m ready whenever you need a break."

My chest tightened, and my teeth ground just a little. "Yeah, sure." He fluttered away to practice, leaving me by the door. I took a deep breath and told myself, "It's okay. He's just eager." But why did it always have to be so competitive? Every bucking conversation! I mean, I wanted to give him a shot, but every time he made one of those little comments, it made me want to bump him down the roster another space.

I stepped into the Green Room and saw Spitfire waiting for me. She jerked her head towards a door. I always slow down when I'm approaching the dark, metal entrance with the words "Bottom Line – Manager" burned into it. I don't try to. It just happens. "Hey, Spitz. Got the new routine all worked out?"

She nodded as I caught up to her, and we headed inside, ladies first.

Bottom Line's office was cold and dim. The sun wouldn't shine into that room until the afternoon, and I got chills as I stepped through the door. It wasn't from the temperature. Maybe it was the weird symmetry, like the two identical gunmetal filing cabinets on either side of a dark, wooden desk. Bottom Line's grey coat blended in with the walls, and he ran a hoof through his white, tightly cropped mane as he furiously scribbled something on a piece of paper.

Spitfire spoke up first, even and clear. "Good morning, sir."

Bottom Line's eyes didn't leave his work. He just shifted a bit in his heavily starched, khaki-colored shirt. "Morning," he barked. "Sit down."

We followed his instructions, taking a seat on the cool, metal stools. They weren't comfortable, which I'm sure is just what he wanted. They gave him an advantage when it came to negotiating, and it left me feeling like he was going to pounce. To keep myself calm, I stuck with my usual strategy: pretend he was wearing a fluffy pink sombrero with little fuzzy balls dangling from it.

Setting his pencil down, Bottom Line crossed his forelegs and looked up at us with those dark, weary eyes. "Let's not mince words." He never did. "I'm busy." He was always busy. "And I've been observing. We need to make a few structural changes. Shake things up. Cut the fat."

I spoke up, trying not to snicker. "Yes, sir. We need to make the roster for Friday's show anyway, so why don't we–"

"Roster's done," he interrupted, slapping a hoof on the desk with more force than he needed. He slid the piece of paper towards us, turning it around for us to read with two quick, jerky motions. There were two columns – one for the mare squad, one for the stallions.

I glanced down my column, which looked the same as the last show's with one minor change: Fire Streak wasn't on it. I thought, 'Poor guy. Really needs to get that stability under control. At least Windskipper's getting a chance in the big leagues.'

A loud thwap on the desk nearly made me fall out of my seat. Spitfire's hoof had slammed onto the desk, and my head jerked to look at her. Her face scrunched up then went wide. "Wait... what?!" Her eyes darted all around the paper.

I looked down her side of the paper. Nothing had changed from the Saturday show, so I spoke to her in a calm voice. "Spitz, it's fine. Fire Streak will get over it."

Spitfire whipped her head toward me, eybrows furrowed and lips slightly parted. She had this dumbfounded look on her face, like I was the one with the sombrero on. My throat sealed up, and I figured she was going to yell at me for something. She didn't yell, though. She just said, barely above a whisper, "Soarin'... First line."

I stared at her for a second. I hadn't seen her like this in a long time. It didn't make any sense until I took a closer look at the underlined names at the top of the sheet.

Mare Squad Stallion Squad
Lead – Spitfire Lead – Fire Streak

My heart stopped.

My muscles seized up. There was a ringing in my ears. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't blink.

I kept staring at that paper, mouth hanging open, trying to see where he'd put my name. I kinda... blacked out, almost. Spitfire stood up and raised her voice, but I couldn't hear her. I think she tried talking to me at some point.

That paper had a small tear on the corner. I started breathing heavily when I saw it was also ripped a bit on one side, where Bottom Line had erased some of his notes. I hated that paper. For a second, it was the only thing in the universe that existed. I kept thinking, 'He didn't even use a clean sheet of paper. Why didn't he use a clean sheet of paper?' I kept staring, but my name didn't appear. 'He didn't even use a clean sheet of paper.'

"Soarin'!" Spitfire jabbed my shoulder. "Say something!"

Bottom Line jumped in before I could. He spoke rigidly. "Think of it as an opportunity. Take some time. Get your head on straight."

I tried to argue back, but I couldn't tear myself away from the roster. "My..." There were a few smudge marks. "I'm fine."

"Wrong. Don't think I didn't hear about your incident with Fleetfoot." He cleared his throat. "Or your little pep talk."

Bottom Line was questioning my leadership. My head snapped up, and my eyes locked on his. He sat there, unmoving, with a frown on his face, like a stone statue. He didn't get it. He didn't get me.

Suddenly, everything in my body felt like it was on fire, and my eyes were trying to kill him. "Sir!" I stood up, knocking the stool over, and slammed a hoof on the desk. "It's my job to motivate the team and critique their performance!" I spat the words out through gritted teeth. Who the buck was he to tell me how to do my job? "I'm the best flyer on my squad, and my team is always flawless!" I pounded my chest. "What do you think happens without me around, huh?!"

He smirked. "Everypony can finally relax."

I froze again. My head was throbbing, but my aggression had evaporated. "Wha... what do you mean?"

Bottom Line didn't budge an inch. "Several things have been brought to my attention. These aren't isolated incidents from a few complainers. Right now, the team would be better off without you."

I zoned out, numb to everything. For a second, I couldn't even move. My expression went blank, and my cheeks felt hot and wet. Slowly, I turned my head towards Spitfire and thought, 'Bottom Line's wrong. I'm a great captain. Spitfire doesn't think I'm…' My eyes met hers, and for the first time since I'd met her, she couldn't manage to make eye contact. "…oh."

My eyes burned, and my voice was weak. "I'm... I'm sorry. Please excuse me." It didn't sound like my voice. It felt like somepony else was using my mouth to talk.

I pushed myself away from the desk, and my wings folded in tightly. Spitefire said something to me, but it didn't register. Nothing really registered, and I found myself outside the office, walking slowly away as Spitfire shouted from inside. It was something about, "...said he had one more week!"

The wind bit at my ears as I stepped outside. I pawed at my chest, trying to find the hole that I knew was there, and I kept staring downward.

My mind was blank, but I felt foreign on the academy grounds, like a magnet that's flipped the wrong way against another magnet. So I walked. I didn't even stretch out my wings at all. The white clouds crunched under my hooves as I walked past one of the training areas. It sounded like the stallion squad was almost done with their morning stretches. I think one of them called me over, but my neck refused to move. My mouth stayed shut as I trotted along. I don't know if I was even blinking.

"Morning, Captain! You sick?" Was that one of the guards? I didn't respond.

My legs kept lifting and dropping. I didn't think of anything. I'd breathe in for two steps, then out for two steps, over and over. In and out. Never breaking the pattern. Step, step, in. Step, step, out. My tail hung limply behind me.

"Hey, isn't that Soarin'?"

"Nah, he'd be at practice." The hole in my chest grew bigger. My heart ticked on, but it felt rusty, like it would fall apart at any second.

Something deep down told me that it was a nice day, that the sun was shining and the air was fresh, but I couldn't feel it. It all seemed so overcast.

"You sure? He's got that uniform on." Were these two mares or stallions? Young or old?

"Huh. He looks sick. Maybe he's not doing well." The hole got bigger. I kept staring down.

My wings felt heavy. I thought about trying to flap them, but I didn't feel like it. I didn't feel like anything. My trance held, and I kept walking, like I was a machine that only knew how to get home.

Blinking and looking up after who knows how long, I saw my front door a few meters from my face. My first lucid thought was, 'This doesn't feel like home.' I opened the door, and my shadow greeted me from the inside. It stared back at me, and I cringed. I suddenly felt exposed, so I dashed in and slammed the door behind me.

But I didn't feel safe. Nothing in my condo seemed familiar. Nothing except the lingering smell of old hayburger. I thought, 'Am I in the wrong house?'

I made my way into the parlor, and I found one thing that looked the same: my favorite picture. I trotted over to the small table and grabbed it. I was looking for... something. Happiness? Something to tell me I was doing a good job? I studied the photo: my dad and me on the day I graduated from the academy and became a real Wonderbolt. He had his foreleg around me, every one of his teeth showing in that goofy smile of his. His chest was all puffed up. Mine was, too. With my new jacket on, I didn't look like a colt anymore. For the first time, I looked like a real stallion.

I've never taken much pride in my accomplishments. Yeah, I'm one of the best, but it's always been natural for me to win. Never gave it much thought, I guess. Graduation day, though. Wow. I'd passed every test they'd thrown at me and come out on top. I stood on that stage with the other four who'd graduated. We kept our excitement inside as we looked out at the sea of ponies. My heart wouldn't stop pounding, and my wings itched to let loose. We kept up appearances, though, just like we'd been trained.

It was time. An elderly Former Commander Skystorm took to the mic. I wish I could remember what she said. Dad filled me in later, but I was too focused on not losing my mind to notice. Skystorm's voice boomed, and I felt the cheering strike me in the chest before she even finished saying my name. "Soarin' Windsong! First Rank!"

I hesitated. 'Dammit! Am I supposed to pivot on my right hoof or my left?!' I started screaming in my head, 'Oh buck oh buck oh buck oh buck.' I went with right. 'BUCK BUCK BUCK BUCK BUCK!!!' Naturally, I played it cool, and talked myself through all the steps that I'd spent hours agonizing over.

Right hoof, left hoof, one-two-three-four.

Four steps. Nod head. Hooves together.

Back straight. Eyes up. Right hoof straight out.

Salute. Pause, pause. At ease, soldier.

I didn't miss a beat. She presented my new jacket, which I put on with the same precision. Another salute, and I marched to my spot on the opposite side of the stage.

Right hoof, left hoof, one-two-three-four.

Perfect.

Somepony knocked on my door, and I snapped back to reality to find that I was holding onto the photo very, very tightly. I fumbled with it a little before setting it down flat on the table. All the pride and joy drained from my body, and I slumped. The hole in my chest came back, and everything felt heavy.

The pony at the door knocked louder. A twinge of anger flashed through me, but all I could muster was a weak, "What?" that was too quiet for them to hear. I shook my head and trotted to the door.

I opened it. Spitfire stood there, rigid and completely expressionless. Her eyes were hidden behind her wide, dark sunglasses, and I had to squint a little at the sunlight behind her. She took a few breaths before speaking up. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." My reflection stared back at me in those lenses.

"No, you're not."

I snorted. "Well, then why did you ask?" It came out way harsher than I wanted.

Spitfire matched her tone to mine. "Because I'm not very good at this!" She lifted a hoof to take off her sunglasses, but left them on and set her hoof back down. "I talked to Bottom Line. The others have been tense around you lately. I know you've noticed."

I nodded.

"You aren't off the team, Soarin'. You didn't even lose your co-captain status." Her words were stiff, and I figured she'd been practicing this little speech on the way over. "This is just a break."

"It's always just a break." She twitched at the acid I was spitting, but my guilt overtook my anger. "Sorry, I..." I didn't finish. It felt weird there, talking on opposite sides of a doorway. I wanted to let her in, but she wasn't going to tell me what I wanted to hear. "Bottom Line always does this." My voice got louder as I kept talking. "Sure, I'm just missing one show for now, but I'll be gone by the end of the season!"

"Soarin', if you end up like Rapid Gust or Storm Cyclone–" She took off her sunglasses and pointed them at my chest. Her gaze pierced through me. "–then that's on you." She tucked the glasses into her breast pocket. "They couldn't handle the dynamic, so they got cut. Sounds like you need to figure out if you've got what it takes."

I grit my teeth. "Spitz, I'm the best stallion on the squad! You and I both know I have what it takes!"

She stomped a hoof. "Windsong! Why can't you get it through your head that not everything is about YOU!" She took a step through the door, and I shrunk back. "Yes, you can fly. Big deal! But when you bring everypony else down, we have to consider if you're really worth it."

"We? We?" I got up in her face, and she backed off half a step. "If you bucking knew I was getting cut, then why the buck didn't you say anything?"

Her head was down, and her hooves were spread apart. She glowered, and I thought she was going to charge at me. "I did say something! And you reacted by skipping practice that day, freaking out at a squad mate, and embarrassing the Wonderbolts at a public function!"

That shut me up for a second, but I was too far gone to hold my tongue. I knew the truth, but my brain was scrambling for ways to offload responsibility. "Well, you could have at least told me I was getting cut before the meeting, but I guess you're too cold to care about anypony else! I don't even freaking matter to you, do I!"

Spitfire's scowl melted, and her eyes softened. She stood up taller. Her eyebrows were furrowed, and she slowly shook her head a few times. A cool breeze blew in through the door.

Spitfire is tough. She's a great leader, and she almost never shows pain. Every once in a while, though, somepony will say or do something, and you get to see the cracks in her armor. You can see the little filly that just wants to have fun and fly fast, and you feel your knees go weak and your stomach drop when you realize you've actually managed to hurt her. The moment doesn't last long, but it's enough. She suddenly spoke very softly. "You really don't think of me as your friend, do you?"

The back of my neck felt hot. I got dizzy, so I sat down. When I looked at her, I remembered that colt I'd clobbered in airball, and of course Braeburn's face flashed across my mind, too. I lifted a hoof and itched my face as an excuse to look away for a second. "Spitz, I... I didn't mean it."

Her moment passed. When I looked up again, Spitfire was back to her professional pose and putting her sunglasses back on. Her voice was calm and even. "I came here to try and help you, Soarin', but you can't seem to get your head out of your ass long enough to see how your actions affect the ponies that care about you." I drew in a sharp breath and choked up. "I've got a team to worry about. Don't come back until you're ready to be a part of it." Spitfire turned and stormed away without a backward glance.

The door closed with a small click before I even realized I'd touched it. Back to autopilot. My steps fell heavily on the floor, and I made my way to the parlor. The room was still. Cold. Quiet.

It pissed me off. Everything felt even more alien than it had a few minutes ago. I started hyperventilating, and everything looked red. My muscles tensed. My back arched up. I lowered my head like I was going to charge. I started shaking, and then it all flooded out.

"AARGH!" I whipped my body around and bucked a chair, splintering the leg. "Dammit!" I ran to the lamp and threw it against the wall. The light bulb popped, and shards of glass and clay fell to the floor. "Dammit DAMMIT DAMMIT!" I kicked the couch. I grabbed the art from the wall and punched a hole through the canvas. Anything I could lay my hooves on, I destroyed. The table, the doorway, the side of the bookcase. I even yanked the photo of me and my dad off the table.

And I stopped. The picture shook in my hooves while I took uneven, quivering breaths, and I heard my dad's voice in my head. It was low and calm, and it sounded hurt. 'What are you doing, Soarin'? You really think wrecking the place is going to solve anything? Is that how I taught you to live?'

I slumped to the floor. The pride in my dad's smile stung me hard in the chest. My head ached. My eyes burned, and I heard myself sob. I have no idea how long I'd been crying. I sniffled. "S... sorry, dad."

His voice became sterner. 'Don't apologize. Just make it right.' I looked around the broken room at all the wood splinters and pieces of glass. 'And make me proud.'

I could swear I felt his hoof on my shoulder again. "I will, dad."

'There's my big strong Stormcloud.' My chest swelled at his pet name for me. It always has. Still does. 'Love you, son.'

My eyes felt heavy. I curled up on the floor with the picture clutched tightly to my chest, and I yawned. "Love you, too, dad."

I miss him every day.

Chapter 7 - Little Victories

* * * * *

Soarin' chortles a few times. It's heavy. It isn't forced, but the hollowness makes me cringe. I think I see a tear in his eye. He's looking to his left, staring at the picture he was just describing. "Heh heh. Lucky I didn't break it. I don't have the negatives anymore." His eyes are sunken, and he looks tired. He rests on the braces on his forelegs while a pause overstays its welcome.

I speak up, gently, "Did you–"

His head snaps back to me, like he's suddenly remembered I'm here. "Dude, I didn't offer you anything to drink! Sorry about that." His words have a rhythmic cadence and wooden timbre. "You must be thirsty." That was less of a question and more of a command, wasn't it? "I'll get you something." A broad smile creeps across his face.

There's desperation in his eyes. He's an animal caught in a trap of his own mind. Talking about losing his job and his closest friend is hurting him, and he's suddenly feeling the need to distance himself from his story. We've been at it all morning, and frankly, he needs a break. Who am I to deny him a respite?

"Uh... sure." I close my notepad and put it, my inkwell, and my quill into my small saddlebag. "Thanks. What do you have?"

Soarin' lets out a breath I didn't realize he was holding. "I make an awesome Long Island. Just a sec." With a push of his back legs and a beat of his wings, he floats in the air and dashes to the kitchen. As he whooshes by – much faster than I'd ever want to run in my own home – I see another small glimmer in his eye. I should give him a moment.

I rearrange my belongings again, then sit and wait while I hear a few clinks of glass from the kitchen. One one-thousand, two one-thousand, three one-thousand. I stand up and peek around the corner.

Two glasses sit on the counter, and a cabinet is hanging open. Soarin's front hooves are both on the counter, and he's inspecting the bottles. No, his head's hung low, and there's no way he could see the labels that way. His shoulders rise and fall with his slow breathing. The taught muscles on his leg twitch. He shakes his head slowly, his wild, spikey mane bouncing back and forth.

Should I recommend a counselor for him? I know of a wolf that's great at that sort of thing, but offering advice like that would probably be too invasive.

I need to focus. I'm here for the story, and it's up to Soarin' to take care of Soarin'.

Still, nopony likes feeling vulnerable, least of all in their own home. I duck back around the corner and face away to throw my voice a bit. "Well, it looks like you haven't lost any of your wingpower," I say cheerfully. "You almost tore the notes off my pad!" I saunter into the kitchen to see that Soarin' has turned around and composed himself. The grinning pegasus give me a knowing nod as he leans awkwardly against the countertop behind him, forelegs dangling in front. Poor guy.

"You know it. Doc told me to take it easy, but flying is my life." He gestures into the air at nothing. "I'm a little slower than I used to be, and landing's a bitch, but I'm getting there." He looks down at the metal braces on his legs. "Actually, she said I could spend some more time without these crummy things, too. Do you mind if I...?"

I sit down at his table. "Go right ahead."

Dropping onto all fours, Soarin' twists his neck to reach the brace on his left foreleg. He wraps his lips around a butterfly screw near the top (which can't taste pleasant) and slowly loosens it. His eyes squint as the screw slips out of his mouth a few times.

I lean forward. "Do you need a hoof?"

He shoots a glare at me, and I jerk back a bit. 'Need' was probably a poor choice. His eyes widen, then soften, and he spits out the screw. "I need two. These ones are busted." He waits for me to chuckle, and I obliged. "But no. I need to be able to do this on my own." I can respect that, so I wait patiently at the table while he finishes.

It takes a couple minutes, but he does it. Rearing up on his hind legs and giving his forelegs a swift shake, the braces slip off and hit the ground with a sharp clang. He has a few scarlet red rashes in his pits where the padding has been rubbing against him. Soarin' flaps his wings a few times to soften the landing, and he barely makes a sound as his forehooves hit the floor. I try my best not to react at what I see. His forelegs are the same beautiful light blue as the rest of his body, but they seem wrong somehow. They've atrophied slightly, muscles wearing away from disuse. It looks like somepony took the legs of an adolescent colt and stuck them on a full-grown, muscular stallion.

Shoot. I'm staring at his legs. I meet his gaze and quickly sputter out, "So, a Long Island, then?"

"Cooooooming right up!" Soarin' sings as he turns back to the glasses on the counter. He walks tenderly to keep as little weight on his forelegs as possible. Though he has to flap his wings a few times to stay upright, he does pretty well overall.

Despite his physical limits, he makes quick work of the drinks. Ice clatters into both glasses. He draws expensive-looking bottles with fancy labels from the cabinets, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he gingerly pours about five different types of alcohol into the long glasses. Most of the bottles are nearly empty – he polishes two of them off in the process. Looking up at the cabinet, almost everything there is nearly empty, too. I turn my attention back to Soarin', who takes a deep breath as he stares intently at the finished drinks. He did it. Every little victory, my friend.

Did he put any tea in there?

Soarin' slowly walks over to the table and passes me the concoction. I take a drink. It's... salty? Damn, wasn't expecting that. I take another sip and let the flavors linger on my palette. It's salty and sweet with just a hint of bitter tea flavor. I greedily suck down another gulp. "Dude, this is great!"

He whinnies with a smile. "Told you." He prances away, throws his forelegs back onto the counter and stares out the window. His posture sinks again. I wonder if he gets outside much these days. Something grabs his attention, and he perks up, craning his neck to see. His tail swishes excitedly a few times, but then he sulks with a heavy breath. Caught in his own head again.

I'm losing him. He glances at me, and his face has that "Maybe you should go" look to it. I see the whole chain of events: 'let's try tomorrow' turns into 'I've been busy lately,' which leads to a lot of unanswered messages before we lose contact completely.

Don't give up, Soarin'.

He throws his head back, quaffing all his alcohol in seconds. The glass slams down hard enough that I'm worried it might shatter, and he takes a deep breath before letting out a small burp. "Sorry, you probably–"

"What happened next?" Real subtle, Syn.

"...What?" Soarin' looks my way and cocks an eyebrow.

"What happened after the living room?" It's my turn to be the fast-talker. "You obviously didn't stay on the floor forever."

His head turns toward the ice box, but I get the distinct feeling he's staring off into space. He stays still a moment before he replies sadly, "No. No, I didn't."

* * * * *

Chapter 8 - Running on Empty

I lay there, staring at the ceiling for... forty-five minutes, maybe? Could have been shorter, could have been a few hours. My body was exhausted, but I wasn't sleepy. My chest and limbs were numb, and I wouldn't have gotten up if my back hadn't been killing me. With a moan and a stretch, I stood up and put the picture back on the table. I took another hard look at it, but Dad stayed silent this time. I still smiled, though. Just a little. Just for a second.

But then I caught sight of the couch. The foreleg rest was bucked almost completely off. Seeing it broken didn't make me sad, really, or even disappointed. Just... you know when you wake up with a hangover in bed with a mare whose name you can't remember? It was like that. It was realizing, 'Yeah, that happened. I did that.'

The rest of the room didn't look any better. The bookcase I'd bought a week earlier was barely standing, the lamp had a giant crack down the middle with a large chunk missing, and the painting I'd gotten from an ex had a hole in it. I tried to make a joke, tried to laugh at myself for being so stupid, but I choked on the words.

I walked over to the bookcase and cautiously stepped over the splinters that littered the floor like they were landmines. The room had this creepy stillness, and I recoiled when my hoof nudged one of the larger pieces of wood. I surveyed the mess again, my jaw tense. Maybe it all seemed pointless, or maybe I was just feeling lazy after the morning I'd had, but something kept me from cleaning anything up. My voice came out barely above a whisper, but it still cracked. "This can wait." Nopony responded.

My chest was tight and my stomach was knotted. The room felt cold, but I was sweating. I looked down at my uniform. It was wrinkled. The gold medals and sewn-in patches mocked me, and memories of award ceremonies flooded into my head. It felt perverse, wrong. My skin crawled under the shirt, and I felt tears start to well up in my eyes again. As quickly as I could, I sat down and pulled the shirt over my head, flinging it inside-out onto the busted couch. I didn't deserve to wear that uniform, I thought, not then, and maybe never again. Pressure built up in my head while my shirt laughed at me from its resting place.

I turned around. I couldn't handle looking at that room anymore, so I dashed into the entryway, grabbed my saddlebag from the closet and trotted back to the kitchen. There wasn't much food left – just some alfalfa and a few dry snacks – but I figured I had plenty of bits to cover lunch. My house was constricting me, and just breathing in there felt like work. My knees shook as I rushed outside.

The cool spring air was a huge relief. After some deep breaths, I was comfortable again, but I didn't dare look back as I closed the door behind me. My wings stretched out and lifted me into the sky with a quick flap. I forced myself to fly slowly. It felt wrong, but I worried that if I let myself go nuts, I'd, well, go nuts.

I was barely keeping it together as it was. 'You're fine, Soarin',' I thought. 'It's not the end. You're still one of the best fliers in the world.' My wings stretched out, and I glided on a warm air current. 'You just might not be a Wonderbolt anymore.' I wrestled with that thought. Spitfire told me that it was just a break, and I hadn't officially been cut yet. Part of being a Wonderbolt, though, is being ready for the worst, and I realized I had to mentally prepare myself in case it really was the end.

I didn't know what 'preparing myself' even meant, though. Once I was out of grade school, I had enlisted. I'd never known what life was like outside of the tight schedule of the squad, but there I was: a stallion with no direction and almost no connections to anything. 'What am I even going to do with all my time?'

The sun had warmed up the air, and the clouds beneath me sparkled. I heard some giggling and saw two fillies – a blue one and her green friend – playing tag, looping around in the air with all the grace you'd expect from a young flier. Part of me wanted to join them, to go back to being a colt again. Maybe they were playing hooky like me.

"Hey, that's Soarin'!" Gotta love the fans. The blue one fluttered toward me, smiling wide. "Mister Soarin'! Do the lightning thing!" She landed on a cloud below me, and her green companion wasn't far behind. They hopped in place and gave me a super cute, wide-eyed look. "Pleeeeeeease?" It was adorable, and it took my mind off of everything else.

So, I did the lightning thing. Dude, you should have seen their faces! They were so excited. Impressing an audience always makes me smile, no matter the size. They kept heaping praise on me, asking how they could be a Wonderbolt. I ate it up until the green one cuddled up to me and said, "I wish you were my dad."

I froze. I wanted to be a mentor for her. I really did. I wanted to tell her that she should be happy for what she had. That her dad loved her. That she was lucky to still have ponies in her life that cared about her and hadn't abandoned her. Instead, they got a weak, "S... stay in school, kids." UGH!

My stomach growled while I jetted off, and I face-hoofed myself when I was a few hundred feet away. My cheeks were probably flushed, so I just focused on my hunger. I remembered the last time I'd been that hungry, which of course made me wonder if Braeburn was okay.

* * * * *

Soarin' sits across the table from me. The melting ice dances in the long glass as he swirls it around, transfixed by the movement of the frozen water and the soft, tinkling music that it makes.

I gulp down the last of my Long Island, a watered-down remnant of its former glory, but it's still the best thing I've had in a long time. The glass knocks against the table as I set it down, and Soarin' is broken from his hypnosis. He looks at me attentively, and even though I wasn't trying to get his attention, I feel the need to say something. "Those few hours with that cowpony really had an effect on you, didn't they?"

Soarin' smiles and looks back down at his glass. "Yeah. He was... somepony to talk to. He didn't judge me, and I felt connected to him in a way I hadn't with anypony else in a long time." He tips his glass back into his mouth and crunches on some of the ice. "Heh. Really bucked that up, didn't I?"

The hell do I say to that? Yes? No? Don't worry, it's fine – you merely shot yourself in the hoof when you stormed out while simultaneously hurting the feelings of somepony you cared about?

Luckily, he notices my empty glass. "You want another one? I don’t have any tea-infused vodka left–" THAT'S what it was! "–but I can mix you something else."

I probably shouldn't be drinking on the job, but given how much I'd loved the last one, I'm eager to taste what else he can mix up. Still, his liquor cabinets looked almost empty, so I give an insincere reply. "I don't want to drink all your booze."

"Naaaah, it's fine." He waves a hoof at me. "It's old, and I need to get rid of it anyway. Might as well share."

"Then sure. Thanks!"

Soarin' takes my glass and returns to the cabinet. His head tilts to the side as he examines the meager selection of alcohol and mixes, and I take the opportunity to grab my equipment from the other room. I take out my notepad just as he turns around, giving my supplies a reflexive sneer that makes me feel bad about taking notes at all.

He walks back to the table with our drinks – something bright blue – and continues.

* * * * *

There's this awesome restaurant in downtown Cloudsdale. They make breakfast any time of the day, and they get the best ingredients from all over Equestria. I get one of their spinach and rosewater energy shakes whenever practice has been especially grueling. It's stable and always the same, something that's there waiting for me. It's no surprise that I wanted to get some grub there that day.

I flew high through the city, dodging skyscrapers made out of cloud and keeping away from the bustling streets below. Fortunately, I didn't have to go too deep into downtown to get to the Bad Sun Rising café, and the sign above the door was easy to spot. Originally, it had shown a red-eyed Princess Celestia looking hungover, but after a visit from some government agency, they repainted it to be a generic unicorn. It didn't have quite the same effect.

I dove down to street level and managed to duck in the door without anypony noticing me. A bell jingled as I walked in, and the smell of all those veggies and spices cleared my head. I walk right past the empty hostess' podium to my usual spot – a booth with gold padding that sat next to the window. The whole place had that rustic feel of a diner that the earth ponies love so much, but it was all too clean to be authentic. Keeps you from getting sick, as least. It felt cozy, though. The walls were decorated with old, elegant art that probably meant a lot to somepony, and the warm colors made you feel at home. If my mom had ever cooked, I bet that's what the kitchen would have felt like.

The place was calm. Only two other tables had customers, all pegasi. An overweight grey stallion picked at his teeth as he put a few bits onto his table, which was stacked high with dirty dishes and used napkins. He shuffled off a moment later past the other patrons, a middle-aged pegasus couple. The stallion's orange coat and blonde mane were a nice contrast to the mare's pink and dark blue, and it looked like they were just finishing up their meal, too.

"Morning, Soarin'! What can I get you?" A cream-colored pegasus with a yellow mane fluttered to my table. She kept a very friendly face, but the way she lidded her eyes told me she hadn't forgotten our last encounter.

"Helloooo, Hollandaise." I leaned on one hoof and gave her a coy look. "You're looking hot as ever. New haircut?" I knew it wasn't.

"You're sweet." She chuckled and smiled back. "No, just styling it a little different." She wasn't. "We've got an orange almond salad on special if you'd like."

"Nah, the usual's fine." I push an unopened menu to her to take away.

"Coming right up, Sugar." She sauntered away, swaying her hips a little for my benefit. Hollandaise was thoughtful like that. Good waitresses should always take care of their customers' needs.

The shake and garden wrap came quickly, like always, and I dug in. It was high-quality, fresh, aaaaaand.... not what I wanted. It didn't satisfy. I found myself chewing my food slowly and taking little sips of my shake. It all tasted flat, boring. Everything should have been as delicious as ever, but it was like I'd lost my ability to taste.

My eyes wandered back to the other couple. I reeled a bit when I saw they were both staring directly at me with broad smiles. Right away, I knew what was up. 'Okay,' I thought. 'Celebrity mode. Here we go.' They pushed back from their table and sauntered over to me, not breaking eye contact. I leaned back in my booth, smiling at them.

The stallion spoke up as he neared the table. His voice shook a little, and I knew he could gush at any moment. "M-Mister Windsong?"

"Thaaat's me!" I leaned forward on the table and spread my wings out behind me for extra effect. I figured, if they were going to fan-gasm anyway, why not give them a story to brag about to their friends? "What can I do for the handsome stallion and his lovely companion today? And you both really do look ravishing." I blew a kiss in their direction and heard one of them squeak. No idea which one, but the mare looked like she was about to burst.

The stallion grinned and his voice fluttered. "Oh, my. Well, my wife and I–"

"I'm Cobalt Breeze and I am SO happy we ran into you!" She threw her front hooves on the table, rattling the plates, and leaned in closer. I hadn't seen her blink yet. "This is SUCH an honor and I cannot BELIEVE how LUCKY we are!" She practically shouted every few words. "Sunburst and I never thought we'd run into anypony famous."

I leaned back to give myself some space. I'd had this conversation a thousand times, so I sort of went into auto-pilot. "Well, I'm lucky, too! I've got the greatest fans in the world, and I love getting to chat with you outside of the shows." That wasn't always true, but on that day, it was a huge relief to know that some ponies still liked me.

Sunburst practically danced in place. "Really? Wonderful!" Encouraged by my words, he sat down opposite me in the booth, followed closely by Cobalt Breeze. "I hope we're not bothering you too much. We loved you at the Fillydelphia show, and, well, when are we going to get another chance like this, right?"

Cobalt Breeze chimed in, cheeriness oozing out of her. "HE didn't want to come over at all." She nudged Sunburst with a hoof, but the stallion just smiled and rolled his eyes. "He said you were probably BUSY, but I TOLD him you looked like you could use some company at the table."

"I didn't want to disrupt your quiet moment." He sounded a bit defensive, but his smile never faded. "I'm sure you hardly get any time alone."

My brain didn't know what to do, so I laughed. 'Alone.' The word echoed in my head, and I had to force myself to keep smiling. "It's fine," I spat. An awkward silence hung in the air at my abrupt response, so I took the conversation by the reins. "Where are you from?" I was happier speaking directly to Sunburst, and my ears silently thanked me.

"We live out by Fillydelphia. We're on a little vacation to do some sightseeing this week."

Cobalt Breeze waved a hoof. "Of course, we're heading over to Manehatten in a few days. I love this time of year. Never too early, I always say. We've been big fans ever since you came out and visited our little town." I couldn't follow her rambling, but at least she'd settled down.

I nodded with a sigh, feeling more at ease. "Yeah, that was a great show. First time Spitfire and I had tried the Helix Cloudburst. Turned out pretty well, I think, but what really matters is whether you enjoyed it."

"Oh, we LOVED it!" I winced. "It certainly made us lifelong fans. Hopin' we can see that little move again at Friday's show."

My eyes went wide, and the sides of my mouth drooped. Something icy wrapped around my heart.

Sunburst put a hoof around Cobalt's shoulder and nuzzled her before turning back to me. "We've got lower-level tickets – the seats with the recliners." I grimaced, and my wings and tail started fidgeting. "After the sore necks from last time, we figured, 'Might as well spring for the good seats.' It's a vacation, after all!"

I wanted to fly away. I felt paralyzed and skittish at the same time. Angry, too. My face felt hot. My hooves felt cold. My chest was heavy, and my head felt like it was going to detach and float away. Every part of my body wanted to go a different direction.

There I was: trying to get away from it all, give myself a little distance so I could think straight. I was going to face my problems, really, but I just needed to get some time to get some perspective. 'I just need a break so I can focus. Then it'll all be better,' I thought, silently counting how many times I'd had that exact conversation with myself. Somewhere in the forties.

I thought about lying. It wouldn't have even been a lie, really, just omitting a detail. Hell, I could have said nothing, and they would have found out themselves. When was I ever going to see them again, anyway? But that wasn't how my parents raised me. Well, parent. If I was going to let them down, I at least wanted to keep them from being disappointed and hurt.

Their faces beamed back at me. My stomach twisted, and I glanced away as I said, "Well, I'm sure Fire Streak can pull it off." I didn't hear a response, so I looked up again. Cobalt's face was frozen in a wide smile, but Sunburst turned his head and squinted one eye at me.

I let out a long breath and thought, 'I don't really need to say this, do I?' It was super uncomfortable, and it was all the worse with a giddy mare staring me down. "I'm not on the roster this week." I braced myself for the disappointment.

Cobalt giggled. She rolled her eyes as an orange hoof that wrapped around her shoulder. "Oh, wouldn't you know it? Just our luck." She still seemed bouncy, and Sunburst's posture stayed upright and inviting. "Guess that means we'll just have to come back again sometime!"

Electricity flowed from my heart to the rest of my body, burning away all the bad feelings. They were okay with it!

Sunburst spoke up. "Woulda loved to see you perform again, but I bet that Fire Streak guy will be entertaining, too. He's your second, right?"

I thought back to all the times Fire Streak had been there for me, just as somepony to talk to and swap stories with. He'd always been an amazing flier, but my memories were still peppered with his comments about overtaking me. Still, though, I thought of him as my friend, maybe the only one I had left. "Yeah, he's great."

"Second best, I'm sure." Damn straight. Sunburst looked at the clock. "We should probably head out. We've got a city tour in a few minutes. Thanks for the chat, Mister Windsong."

"Soarin'."

"Soarin', it's been a pleasure."

Cobalt chimed in as she stood up. "And I hope you have a nice, relaxing break." I thought about correcting her, but I'd been honest enough for one meal. Plus, Spitfire had called it a break, right?

I gave them a small wave and told them, "Enjoy your vacation." A thought struck me. "Oh, hey!" They stopped in their tracks and gave me wide eyes. "Picture? Autographs?"

Cobalt flushed. "Oh. Well, we... wouldn't want to be trouble, and we really appreciate you taking a moment for us. Plus, we don't really have that much cash right now."

I smirked. "On the house."

Their faces lit up again. I dug some headshots out of my saddlebag – never know when you'll need them – and wrote out a few words. Before they left, we posed for a couple pictures. I told them the secret to getting fan mail directly to me and asked them to let me know the next time they were coming to see the 'Bolts. After the way they'd lifted my spirits, I wanted to make their next show something special.

* * * * *

"Wait." I set my quill down and peer up at the blue pegasus across from me. "There's a way to get fan mail straight to you?" It makes sense. The Wonderbolts must get inundated with correspondence, and they certainly want to separate the important letters from the usual proclamations of love. And the threats. Heck, I got little more than a form letter the first time I'd tried to get this interview. "What's the secret?"

Soarin' props his foreleg on the table with a loud thud. He rests his temple against his hoof and stares, giving me the toothy grin of a little brother who's put soap in your toothpaste.

I blink. Realization hits me, and I snort. "Fine," I grumble. I pick up my quill and resume taking notes.

* * * * *

Sunburst and Cobalt Breeze trotted away from the booth, and I felt mostly good. Mostly. They hadn't been too disappointed that I wouldn't be at the show, and I'd done the right thing, but the room suddenly felt very, very empty.

I turned my head to watch them leave. They nuzzled up close to each other, talking excitedly but barely above a whisper. Sunburst kissed Cobalt on the cheek when she moved to open the door. They giggled together and walked outside, taking all the warmth of the diner with them. They were so, so clearly in love.

The bell jingled, and then it was quiet. I felt content but emotionally drained, so I let my head thump against the window while I looked outside. Sunburst and Cobalt Breeze sauntered away together, pausing every once in a while to gawk at the huge buildings. I wanted to know what they were saying, and my heart sank when I realized I never would. Their conversation didn't let up as they hailed a pony-drawn cab, got in, and sped out of view.

I looked back across my booth, where a half-eaten meal and an empty seat were my only companions. The late morning sunlight streamed in, making the gold padding opposite me glow.

I never brought one-night stands to Bad Sun. It was out of principle – this was my favorite place, something sacred – but I imagined what it would be like to sit there with somepony. Somepony special that I could talk to easily, somepony that made me feel relaxed, made me feel like I could let my guard down.

I could hear him. I mean, not really, but I remembered exactly what Braeburn's laugh had been like. It started out as a small, even chuckle. At first, it sounded a little squeaky with a whole lot of cute, but if you listened, you could hear his laugh rumble in his strong, muscular chest. He covered his mouth with a fetlock, like he was about to cough, like he was embarrassed, and his eyes squinted tight while he looked away. That little earth pony couldn't hold it in forever, though, and his laughter grew louder. His shoulders quivered, and it all burst out of him in a loud, wide-mouthed roar of happiness. He threw his head back, laughing and laughing and stomping a hoof just to get the energy out. He was full of life, full of... full of joy. And when he finally settled down, he looked right at me with those beautiful, watery eyes, breathing hard and still chuckling, and I felt at peace.

Hollandaise's voice snapped me out of whatever I was doing. "Not feeling hungry today, Sugar?"

My eyes refocused, and my glimpse of Braeburn vanished. No, I wasn't feeling hungry. I just felt empty.

Chapter 9 - Hollandaise

I turned my head halfway toward Hollandaise only to turn it back a moment later. My eyes never strayed from the seat across from me. I guess I'd hoped Braeburn would suddenly show up if I wished hard enough.

Hollandaise asked again. She sounded more than a little concerned, but it might have just been her accent. I don't have to tell you who it reminded me of. "Not much of an appetite today, Soarin'? I can box the rest up for you if you like."

My neck was locked in place. "Oh, uh, yeah. I'm done." I had to consciously tell myself to face her. "No box, please."

Her lower lip stuck out, and she cocked her head to the side. "Well, okie-doke. If..." She paused. I saw her tongue roll around in her cheek. "I'll get your check. It's the same as always." She quickly cleaned up the table and walked back to the kitchen.

'Same as always,' I thought. I took in a slow, deep breath, the kind the medical ponies have us take during physical exams, and let it out through my mouth. A paper napkin fluttered out of the dispenser and off the edge of the table.

I need things. I don't like to admit it, but sometimes I need things, just like everypony else. Sometimes it's a warm body, sometimes it's knowing I'm the best, and sometimes it's lunch. I'm not high maintenance or anything, but I need things.

And as much as I loved adventure, I needed routine. The shows, the travel, the new ponies – they kept everything fresh, but I never had to worry about any of them. Somepony somewhere took care of all the planning, and I got to focus on what I wanted. Yeah, I snuck out of practice sometimes or partied later than I should have, but I could always fall back into the pattern: meetings, practice, shows, meetings, practice, shows, right hoof, left hoof, one-two-three-four. I was dreading life without that routine. It almost felt like I would be out of sync with myself without the Wonderbolts, but between Sunburst and Cobalt Breeze and the familiar restaurant, it seemed like everything would be okay. It seemed like maybe I wasn't as far out of my routine as I thought.

...which is why the next part sucked so hard.

I reached for my saddlebag again and dug out my coin satchel. I needed eight bits, same as always. Yeah, it's a little expensive for a small meal, but that's with a nice tip included, and the food was worth it. I dumped my satchel out onto the table. My bits fell out, clanging onto the hard surface a lot more quietly than I had thought they would.

I glanced at the coins. Five bits. I drew in a sharp breath and counted them again. Five bits. My eyes darted around the table. I crumpled the satchel in my hooves, but there weren't any more coins stuck in the folds. I looked under the table: nothing but gum. I shoved my face in my saddlebag and let out a flurry of quick swears. There wasn't any money in my bag. I had five bits.

'That's enough, though, right?' My brain was grasping for a memory of how much the meal actually cost. 'No, not with a tip, at least. Buck, how much was it?' I whipped my neck around and searched for a chalkboard or something with the wrap and shake on it, but they only had the daily specials. 'Stupid orange almond salad.' I gnawed on the inside of my cheek and drummed the table. 'How am I light!?' I screamed in my head. 'I'm never light! I always pick up my check and cash it on–'

Monday is payday. "...BUCK!"

I looked back at the less-than-sufficient payment. 'What's Holli gonna say?' I thought about being one of those customers that orders a big meal and can't pay, and I had a vision of Holli avoiding me the next time I came in. Pressure built up in my chest. My leg muscles clenched and twitched, my teeth ground into each other, and I sneered at the small pile. I snorted and raised a hoof, ready to slap them all away. I was mad enough to tear the place apart.

Aaaaand I didn't. I couldn't. I couldn't get angry again that day. It had all drained out of me. To let out a little bit of steam, my hoof slammed into the table, followed closely by my forehead. "Damn it." I sighed and knocked my forehead against the table again, loud enough to cause a small echo. "...Damn it." With a sigh, I lifted my head and set my chin back down on the table, staring at the bits. My words felt heavy, and I practically had to push them out of my mouth. "You just couldn't give me a break today, could you?" The bits didn't say anything. My muscles went slack, and my wings drooped. I frowned, and having my neck stretched out that way made me sound like I had a speech impediment. "Of course you couldn't."

My stomach twisted up again, and my eyes felt heavy. I wanted to fall asleep and wake up back in the real world, back where I was a Wonderbolt.

But I was stuck. Part of me started to worry about what I'd do for cash if I got permanently cut from the team – I had some money saved up, but I'm not exactly a frugal pony – but I couldn't muster the energy to care. That hole in my chest came back.

"What's wrong, Sugar?" Holli appeared and sat down across from me. I stared blankly at her, my chin still resting on the table while she waited for me to react. Her expression went from warm and friendly to blank confusion as the silence got longer and longer. I was probably giving her the same look.

I felt paralyzed, and my heart sank when I realized I'd have to tell her. I hadn't been light in years. I told myself it was just a mistake, but why did it have to happen right then? My eyes flickered over to the bits.

Hers did, too. She raised an eyebrow, paused, and then chuckled. Her voice was tender but firm. "Soarin', it's alright. I know you're good for it." She leaned over and counted the bits again. "Besides, it looks like you've got enough. The bill's only five." The sunlight hit her face, making her look as bright and cheerful as she sounded.

Like everything else, she reminded me of Braeburn. Holli was sweet, gentle, and really, really pretty. I mean, Braeburn wasn't pretty, but he... kinda was? Stallion-pretty. I'm going with that. He and Holli were there to help. They could both push my buttons, but Braeburn had that mystique about him that wouldn't let me push him out of my mind.

"I..." My head lolled to the side. The cool surface felt good on my cheek. "I don't have enough for a tip."

Holli giggled. I was the second cutest thing I'd ever heard. "Sugar, it's fine!" She leaned in closer and purred, "But if you want to give me the tip, I'm finished after the lunch shift."

"I don't know if I–" It took a second to hit me. "Wait... OH!" My eyes opened wide, and I sat straight up, wings at full attention. My heart fluttered. "Yeah," I nodded. I tried to give her a quick, sexy comeback, but all she got was a grin and a low, "Yeeeeaaaah."

She stood up from the booth. "Well alright, then! I just need to clean up a few more tables and run some numbers. You okay hanging out right here for a spell?" I didn't get to answer, because she ducked in and kissed my nose.

"Hey!" A loud, gruff voice boomed from somewhere behind me. "No gettin' fresh wid da customuhs!"

"Eh," Hollandaise sighed as she trotted out of sight. "But boss!" She put on her sweetest, most sarcastic voice. "We always keep it fresh here at Bad Sun Rising!"

I ended up waiting there for another hour. Holli brought me some pie ("On the house!") to pass the time. Apple. It was good, I guess, and satisfying in its own right. Heck, it was probably the best pie in Cloudsdale, but I couldn't bring myself to finish it. My fork hit the plate with a soft clink, and I stared at the half-eaten dessert. "Heh." I nudged the plate away. "He's ruined me for other pie."

Holli came back and cleared her throat to get my attention. "Ready to go, Sugar?" She wore an off-white scarf that somehow didn't clash with her cream-colored coat and yellow mane. I saw her wings twitch a few times, and I knew she was just as excited to forget her problems for a while as I was.

"Hell yes!" The bell on the door rang out as we dashed outside and took to the air. Once we'd gotten our bearings, we slowed to a more leisurely pace. The mid-afternoon air was warm and comfy, and the breeze was in our favor.

Of course, once we'd gotten out of the city center and could hear each other speak, the conversation took a turn down Awkward Street. She turned her head while we flapped along, and the look in her eyes told me what was coming. Her words punched me in the gut before she even said them. "So, did your boss give you the day off? I don't usually see you on Monday mornings."

I almost snorted at her, but I just ground my teeth instead. Holli was observant; it was part of what made her a good waitress. Of course she'd ask that. I looked over at her, catching myself wishing her eyes were green instead of blue, and I lied. "Uh, yeah! We had a private gig over the weekend, so we're getting off easy today." Pun totally intended.

"That must be nice. I wish I'd get days off like that." Her voice trailed off. I never knew how to react when somepony got jealous of my job, so I didn't say anything. Her confidence came surging back as she said, "When I open my own restaurant, everypony will get days off for doing a good job." She smiled brightly.

"Yeah. Why haven't you done that yet? You're the best waitress at Bad Sun, and I know you can cook."

"Hm? Oh, I'll get around to it one of these days." She'd been saying that for Celestia knows how long, and it drove me nuts. Hollandaise was sweet, yeah, but she never had the drive to do great things. She was perfectly content just being mediocre and throwing away her natural talent because she didn't like pushing herself, didn't like taking a risk. If she'd ever gone for it, I probably would have asked her out. Like, for real.

We didn't say anything as we landed outside my front door. No need. Why spoil a great moment like that? That electricity starts building in the air, and your body finally catches up to what your brain already knows. Your nerves buzz. Your heart starts racing. Your thoughts turn towards the sexy mare you're about to get it on with, and you start planning all of ways you're going to make her moan.

I opened the door and flashed her a cocky smirk. "You ready for the blue plate special, my dear?" Oh, yeah. The ladies love me.

Hollandaise half-shut her eyes and trotted into my condo. Her voice took on a husky, sensual tone. "I know you've already had your pie, Sugar, but maybe you'd like something a little sweeter?"

I followed inside and shut the door behind us. "Dunno. Guess I'll have to take a good look at the menu." We were both holding back giggles. I love stupid, playful porn talk. Nopony seriously talks like that, but the sheer ridiculousness of it helps cut the tension.

Plus, you know, it's a liiiiittle sexy.

Holli stopped in front of me, swished her tail, and rocked her hips back and forth. I got a good look at her. All of her. She was ready. "If you take too long, I might need to find another customer, and I'd hate for you to miss out. I'm absolutely yummy."

Something about her word choice irked me, but I was too horny to care. I liked watching her move around. Holli had been over a few times before, and it eased my mind to be with somepony who was totally relaxed, somepony with experience that I already had a rapport with. She moved towards the parlor? with confidence. She knew she had me wrapped around her hoof. "I'll get the shades. Start on the couch?"

"Sure!" My wings popped out as I followed her. I figured we'd get some foreplay on the couch before I'd lay into her with some oral, then up to my room for the main event. I'd completely forgotten about–

"What the buck happened here!?" She stopped in her tracks, and my face bumped into her backside, which wasn't too unpleasant, but it distracted me from what she was saying. "What is this?" She quickly looked all around and then back to me. Her lips quivered and she whispered, "Soarin', were you robbed?"

That threw me. Different thoughts had to wrestle for control: concern for my stuff, calming my friend down, and getting some. "Nnnnno?" She stared at me, mouth agape in an expression somewhere between concern and alarm at how calm I was, so I just waved a hoof, smiled, and talked around the issue. "Hey, don't worry about it. I've had a rough morning."

Her eyes went wide, and she shrunk away from me a bit. "You... you did this?" My blood went cold, and I thought about reaching out to touch her. Thank Luna I didn't. Can you imagine? My head sank, and I must have started frowning. The fear in her voice melted to concern. "What's wrong?"

I looked away and mindlessly pawed at the floor. "I'd... rather not... say." It hit me that I was totally killing the mood, so I perked back up, puffed out my chest, and cocked an eyebrow. "We can still wreck the bedroom, though. It'll look even worse than the parlor when we're done." I gave her a wink.

She turned her body to face me. Her face was stoic and expressionless, and her words were measured. "If... if you want to talk instead, we can."

Ugh! I really didn't want to go down that road. It was bad enough that the Sunburst and Cobalt had me itching for a pony to cuddle. I seethed to myself, 'Why can't it just be easy for once?'

But no, I had to work for it. "Well, I did want to talk about..." Holli leaned in. I didn't like repeating one-liners, but you gotta do what you gotta do. "...that hideous scarf you're wearing."

"Excuse me?" Her eyes filled with fire, but I played it cool.

"Yeah, it looks terrible. You should probably take it off." She flushed, but more with embarrassment than with anger. "Ya' know, sloooowly."

She rolled her eyes, but her shoulders relaxed, and she smiled and gracefully turned her head. It took some effort, but I focused and brought myself back to our little game. I don't usually play it slow, but I love it when others do it to me. She bent her neck and took part of her scarf in her teeth. Her eyes darted back to me for just a second, and I got a quick raise of her eyebrows. She pulled on the silky fabric that hugged her neck, and it began sliding sensually across her back. The scarf slowly unknotted itself, barely clinging to her coat, and as she dropped it from her teeth, gravity undressed her the rest of the way. Hollandaise crossed one foreleg over the other and tilted her head. She bit her lower lip, looking like a starlet that was toying with a fan.

It was getting the job done. I felt the heat building in my face, and I was getting hard very, very quickly. My chest swelled, my wings were tense, and I started grunting. My eyebrows furrowed, and I gave her an appreciative nod while a wicked smile crept across my face. My rear leg twitched. I stomped in approval. Couldn't help it. I think all guys get that feeling when they're about to get down – you want to just jump in and go for it, but dude, is it ever sweet when you can draw it out.

I don't have much patience, though. I leapt over, grabbed Holli by the hoof (which made her squeal a little) and led her upstairs. Running while holding onto her was impossibly awkward, but I tried. My legs fumbled as I raced up the stairs, beautiful mare in tow and a large, stupid smile on my face. Life was about to get awesome.

Holli chuckled. "My, my, Sugar. I don't think I've ever met a stallion as excitable as you."

I swear I heard something crack in my brain, like lightning was striking inside my skull. Braeburn had said the exact same thing when I was eating his pie. I stopped cold on the steps, spun around to look at her, and for a second, I thought I saw Braeburn smiling up at me. There was a pang in my chest.

I shook off the thoughts. "Baby, we're not even to the main course!"

I let go of her hoof when we got to the top of the stairs. We trotted down the hallway, past the trippy art and pictures of me with other celebrities, to the big blue door at the end. It opened easily with a slight creak (that's how you know it's real wood) and I gave her a quick nod. "After you, m'lady." She stepped past me, raising her tail so that it brushed under my chin. My mind buzzed, and I took in a sharp breath as my goofy smile returned.

Holli wandered around the room. "Hasn't changed much," she said softly.

I didn't respond. Her little teasing maneuver had pushed me past the brink of self-control. I growled.

That got her attention. "You've got that look in your eye." She gave the air a little kiss. "So I guess you're ready to give me the ti–"

I dashed forward, planting my lips on hers and closing my eyes. I sucked and growled, taking her lower lip into my mouth. She moaned, long and low, and her body sank an inch or two. Knees must have gone weak. I growled again, and she giggled, pulling away from our kiss. She was already breathing hard. Her breath caressed my face, and it smelled like rosewater.

I hesitated. My stallionhood was rock hard, and my blood raged through me, feeling different, hotter. I was full of raw, primal lust. My body wanted to be next to hers, on top of hers, wherever. Any position I could feel her soft, warm body against mine would work as long as I could stick it in her. But I hesitated.

The hole in my chest was still there. I tried to ignore it. I told myself, 'No, this is what I want. Holli's damn sexy, and I'm not letting one bad fling keep me off my game!' I shook off my doubts and smirked at her. My voice became low, gravely, and savage. "On your back."

Holli didn't say a word. She stared me down for a second, then reared up and let herself fall backwards towards my bed. Her body was amazing. It curved in all the right places, like a glass figurine you'd see in a museum. She wasn't cold or rigid, though, just warm and supple and holy cow did I want her. She landed on the bed with a soft puff, wings spread out and legs open, just like a model in one of those magazines. You know the ones.

I couldn't wait any longer. I lowered my head and crept forward, smoothly putting one forehoof and then the other onto the bed. My body stayed low, like a sexy predator, and I slithered onto the mattress. She kept her eyes on me, and I kept mine on her, even as I started kissing her rear leg. I suckled on her soft skin, leaving a matted coat wherever my mouth had been. She threw her head back and moaned when I nipped at her hip. I dragged my body against hers, feeling her warmth radiate into me, until we were face to face.

Holli didn't want to waste any time either. She wrapped a foreleg around my neck and pulled me into another kiss, deep and heavy. Our tongues swirled together, and our bodies were lined up perfectly, but now that she wanted to go fast, I felt like teasing her more. My hips rotated forward, just a little, just enough to give her a taste. Electricity shot from my stallionhood up my spine and into my head. I was dizzy, but not too dizzy to keep prodding her for as long as she kept our lips locked.

After a couple minutes, she broke our kiss and pressed her forehead against mine. "What are you waiting for, Sugar? An invitation?" My chest rested on hers, and I could feel a strong heartbeat.

I was panting. "What's... what good's a meal... without an appetizer?"

She stifled a laugh. "Okay. I'm not gonna stop you, but that was a bit much."

"Meh. They can't all be good." I nibbled her ear for a few seconds, which earned me a gasp and a nuzzle on the cheek. I pushed my head into her neck and felt that soft golden mane on my face. For a second, I felt at peace, but I caught myself wishing it smelled less like a diner and more like an apple orchard.

'Nope!' I practically screamed in my own head. 'Stay focused, Soarin'!' I slunk backwards, running my tongue against her body in all the right places. My lips explored her warm belly. It felt like a pillow that I could have fallen asleep on if I hadn't been so wound up. It rose and fell with her steady, deep breathing.

My breath, on the other hoof, was heavy and labored, and my throat felt tight. I kept kissing harder and faster, trying to push thoughts of a certain stallion out of my mind, trying to forget that I'd hurt somepony so badly and that he was, in a weird way, getting his revenge by making me want him at that exact moment.

My head moved lower, and I reached my destination. I think I actually sighed in relief when I found a slit instead of a cock. 'Yeah, babe. Thaaaat's beautiful.' I leaned in and went to town.

She shuddered. "Mmm... Soarin'..." She tensed and rolled a little, rubbing her back into the soft bed while I kept up the pace. I took a break and blew a soft breath on her stomach and her more sensitive areas, and she relaxed, just in time for me to grab her legs and dive in again. Between the pheromones and her squealing, I was finally able to shut everything else out of my brain.

I wanted more. I worked her over harder. Faster. I gripped her legs tighter while I ground my hips into the bed. The smells and the sounds and the softness had me reeling. From her short gasps and the way she pawed at the sheets, it seemed like she was enjoying herself, too. I caught a small kick to the head at one point. It hurt and made me a little dizzy, but I was too far gone to notice.

My head was swimming, and my thoughts were a jumbled mix of nonsense. My only lucid thoughts came after we'd been at it a few minutes. 'Buuuuuck, this is nice. Gonna make her squeal, and I'll totally get head after this, too.' My face brushed against her inner hind leg. 'If she just had some thicker legs, this'd be perfect.' I kept going, and my brain kept racing forward without a pilot. 'And I love the way she calls me 'Sugar.' It's got a nice twang to it. She'd look good in a cowpony hat. It'd look amazing with those green eyes of his.'

I froze.

* * * * *

"Aargh!" Soarin' sits in his chair with his forehead on the kitchen table, his nose pressed to his chest. His withered forelegs are laid out in front of him on the wooden surface.

Well, this is getting bizarre. Instinctively, just to give myself something to do, I pick up my quill start jotting down some notes, but the scratching noises on the paper send his ears flicking my way. I stop and set the quill back down.

Silence hangs in the air. At least he hasn't noticed that I'm half hard. Thank goodness for kitchen tables.

He makes a noise that's somewhere between a sob and a chuckle. A sockle? I need to strain to understand his muffled speech. "Do you have any idea how weird it is to realize you're eating out a mare and thinking about a stallion?"

"Um..."

Suddenly, his head snaps up, his eyes shoot wide open at me, and he slams the table with both hooves before shouting, "It's freaking weird!" and collapsing backwards into his chair. His mouth hangs open and he stares at the ceiling. That can't be comfortable for his neck.

I wait. He doesn't move, but he makes that noise again. A chob?

This isn't going anywhere. I need to ask him something... something to snap him out of whatever head space he's in. "Did she notice?"

He takes a deep breath, shakes out his mane, and nickers. "She did."

* * * * *

"Something wrong, Sugar?"

I looked up at her with a wet face and a million excuses in my head. "I'm... just not feeling it right now."

She pondered that for a second. After seeing my parlor, she probably didn't want to set me off. "That's okay. Do you... do you wanna stop?"

I sighed. All the color was gone from my voice. "Nah. Flip over."

* * * * *

Soarin' slumps forward and stretches his back. He stares at the notepad on the table with a flat expression. "Listen, do I have to..." He doesn't finish.

I speak softly. "Only as much as you want." Well, no, I need you to finish your story, but you can gloss over this part. Here, I'll help. "It sounds like you couldn't stop thinking about Braeburn."

He takes a moment before continuing, and his voice is as matter-of-fact as his expression. "Basically, I gave in." He runs a hoof through his mane. "I was mounting a hot mare, but I gave in and fantasized about Braeburn the whole time. I stroked Holli's mane and remembered the way Brae's fell across his face. I felt up her butt and imagined it was his, and when I looked down, I pretended the pony below me had a butter-yellow back. I ignored her moans and replaced them with the soft, low grunts he'd made when he was pulling me in the cart." Soarin' looks down, and a small smile spreads across his face. "And it was wonderful."

* * * * *

I loved it. I loved it so much I started drooling. All the tension I was feeling melted away, and my mind felt clear and unburdened. I was okay. Everything was okay.

Thinking about Braeburn got me over the edge pretty quickly. I pulled out right at the end and, with a few strokes, finished on her back. I didn't realize that I'd been moaning, and at the time, I had no idea what it had been.

Holli gave me a moment, but she crawled out from under me before I had caught my breath. Her voice shattered my fantasy, especially since it sounded so stilted. "I'm going to go get cleaned up." She didn't turn to face me at all.

I managed to respond through my panting and turned halfway toward her. "Aw, c'mon. That's a good look for you."

She walked away to the bathroom, and I collapsed onto my stomach with my face toward my mirrored closet. I looked tired: there were bags under my eyes, my mane was a mess (even for me), and my whole body had this defeated look to it. I spread my wings out behind me and pretended to fly, like I always did in my room when I was down, but remembering what had happened that morning with the Wonderbolts made me snap them back to my sides. I didn't look like me. With my lust sated, all I had left was a shell of a pony with nothing to do and nowhere to go.

The room was still, and it was quiet.

I kept staring at the old-looking pony in the mirror, even as Hollandaise fluttered into the room a few minutes later and lay down next to me. The mare in the mirror cocked her head to the side and examined me for a few seconds before she finally spoke up. "So... who's Braeburn?"

Honestly, I wasn't surprised I'd moaned the wrong name when I'd cum, but I still felt bad about it. At least, I felt as bad as I could manage, which wasn't very much at that point. "Long story."

She leaned over and rested her head on my shoulder. We looked at each other in the mirror. "Bad breakup?"

"Sort of. I bucked up. We met, we chatted, we clicked. It got heavy, and I pushed too hard." It seemed so small and simple when I phrased it like that, but remembering that day dug into me like a knife.

"That's too bad." Her voice was supportive. "You seem depressed lately. Sounds like you needed something he didn't want to give."

I rolled my eyes but otherwise stayed motionless. "Holli, I appreciate what you do for me. I really do, but no, I don't need anypony."

"Sugar, everypony nee–"

"I don't!" I barked in her direction. She jumped a little, so I settled down and went back to watching myself age. "Sorry. You're great, but I've learned that you can't rely on other ponies." I felt smug for being so worldly and jaded.

Her words sounded guilty, and she patted my shoulder. "Not everypony is like that, you know. Not flaky, I mean."

I gave her a vile laugh. "Ha! Not everypony. Just the ones you care about." I pushed a thought about a light blue pegasus mare out of my mind. My blood started boiling again, but not out of desire.

She snapped back, "Now you know that isn't true!"

"Yes. It. Is." My voice was rising. "I can't tell you how many ponies have walked away from me, ponies I cared about. It happens every time." I glowered at my reflection. "Yeah, you love them. You rely on them. You start to need them, and what do you get?" My wings fidgeted. I was nearly shouting at myself in the mirror. "You depend on them, and what do they do? They leave! They walk out on you or they get you fired or they die! Right when you need them most!" I couldn't stay still, so I flapped my wings and hovered in the air. Angry tears burned my eyes, and I kept shouting at my reflection. "They're all... entitled jerks that can't see how much they're hurting you. It's disgusting!"

With a flap, Holli jumped up into the air and got up in my face, eyes like daggers. "So, what then? You just stop trying? Buck 'em and dump 'em!?"

"Well, better them than me!"

She snorted and hovered a little higher. Her head almost bumped the ceiling. "Sugar, you just said these jerks can't see how much they're hurting other ponies! Don't be such a hypocrite!"

"Ugh!" I knocked the sides of my head with my hooves. "That's not the same! Ponies know I'm a celebrity. They don't care about me." I jerked my head to the side and looked in the mirror again. "They just want a piece of fame without getting to know me! They're all the same, and besides, it's not like I–"

'I just flew away.'

I couldn't breathe. A thousand images flashed through my head, and they all connected in a way that made me sick. Bottom Line putting Fire Streak's name on the top of the roster just to get me out of the way. Sapphire Shores kicking me out of her room. Mom slamming the door on us. Dad in a casket. All the ponies that had abandoned me.

And I saw myself doing the same thing. At the garden party after last week's performance, I'd left Cloudhoof to make an ass of himself and nearly ruin his career because I'd been too deep in a drink to help him out. I'd abandoned my team when I'd been cut from the roster and taken down a peg. I was pushing Holli away while she was trying to help me. And what was bothering me most of all...

I sank down onto the bed and remembered shouting at Braeburn about saying 'Hi' to his dresses. I saw him sitting on that couch, confused and scared and trying to say something as I stormed out. I saw him waiting in that house for me to come back and apologize, sinking into despair when he'd realized I was gone for good. I saw him crying.

The scenes faded. Tears ran down my face. "I... left him. I abandoned everypony. S… shit." I wanted to fall through the floor and just keep falling forever. It felt like I already was.

"Sugar..." I looked up. Holli landed in front of me and gave me a smile. It looked a little forced, but she was trying, and her gentle kindness meant the world.

I broke down. Different parts of a hundred stories mixed together as they spewed out of my mouth. I tried to choke back sobs while I told her about Mom leaving us, about losing my spot as lead flier, and about Braeburn. I told her how much I hated being alone and how everything seemed to be coming apart. I went on and on for over an hour.

She listened to every word and didn't speak until I was finished. "You've really been through the wringer lately."

I sniffed and wiped my nose on my fetlock. My head hung low. "You said it."

It was quiet.

Holli broke the silence very, very gently. "...Maybe you could talk to Braeburn about some of this? You said that you two really clicked."

The hole in my chest was big enough that there was hardly anything left of me. "Eh, I already shot myself in the hoof on that one. I left him." I sighed. "And even if I got him to talk, he'd just leave me eventually, too."

She took a deep breath. I could see the gears working in her head. "Well... some ponies are worth chasing after, right?"

I stopped sinking. "Well, yeah, I guess." I looked up. "But what if they don't want you chasing them?" The Wonderbolts came to mind, too. "What if they don't even want you around?"

"Well, they might not be seeing clearly, Soarin'. Hardly anypony gets it right the first time." She reached out and touched my hoof. "Your best friends won't ever truly abandon you."

Something happened. No idea what, but it was something. I thought, 'She's still here. I didn't pay her, and I called out the wrong name, and I yelled at her when she was trying to be nice. And she's still here.'

I blubbered out the words, "You're still here." My heart started beating again, and I sat up straight. Breath came back to my body like an old friend. "You're still here!"

She nuzzled my face. "Course I am."

My mind raced. I wasn't alone. If Holli was still there for me, if she could forgive me for yelling and being so completely stupid, then maybe Spitfire could, too. And Cloudhoof wouldn't be too mad. And Fire Streak deserved some competitive support, just like he'd given me. And if I could patch things up with the 'Bolts, then maybe...

A cross between fiery panic and weightless joy raced through my veins. "Oh. My. Gosh!" I jumped up and took off flying around the room in tight circles, blowing papers off my desk and threatening to start a tornado. "Oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh!" For the first time in weeks, my soul felt like it was on fire, ready to take on the world, and the more I thought about it, the more everything became clear.

Holli scurried off the bed and protected her head with her forelegs. She had to shout to make herself heard. "Soarin'! Calm down! What are you doing?"

I put on the brakes, dropped to the floor on all fours and whipped my head towards her. I couldn't believe what she was asking, and my expression was completely blank. Wasn't it obvious? I was shivering and laughing, and I couldn't believe how long it had taken me to see what I needed to do.

"I'm going to find Braeburn!"

Chapter 10 - Seeing Red

It had been one hell of a day, and with how exhausted I was, I probably should have slept on it, but every fiber of my being was screaming, "Go find Braeburn right now!!!"

Holli peeked out from behind my bed, then slowly stood and walked over to me. She stopped and looked me in the eye, and her posture was off-center, like she was trying to make sense of what she was seeing. Eventually, though, she smiled and nodded her head. "Go get 'im, Sugar."

I stood up tall, and my lower jaw quivered. I couldn't stop smiling, but I found the self-control to bring my voice back down to a talking level. "Thanks, Holli." I reached around her neck and brought her in close for a tight hug. It was probably too tight, but she didn't seem to mind.

Holli offered to help clean up my bedroom. It was nice of her to lend a hoof, but I was fidgeting the whole time. I had to bite my tongue to keep from asking her to move faster, and after what seemed like hours, we headed downstairs. Holli grabbed her scarf from the floor and put it back on in one fluid motion.

We both ignored the mess in the parlor. I knew it was still there. I knew it would still be waiting for me the next time I walked in the door and that I couldn't just leave it a mess forever, but I couldn't bring myself to clean it up. No, I had more important things to do.

Outside, Holli flew away with a quick, "Good luck!"

I walked outside and locked the door, and there were no more distractions.

I dashed away faster than at any show I can remember. A lightning contrail crackled behind me. I wanted, I needed to get to the orchard, to tell Braeburn how sorry I was, and the sooner I could get to him, the better off we'd both be.

I didn't just need to apologize, though. I wanted to make sure he was okay and listen to what he had tried to tell me. I had to thank him for spending time with me and being the friend that I needed, even if I didn't deserve his kindness. I had to... make it right. That’s what Dad would have told me to do.

I also wanted to tell him I'd been thinking about him while screwing a mare. Figured he'd appreciate that.

A cool late-afternoon breeze pushed me from behind, and I smelled a storm on the wind. Everything rushed by me in a blur, but the world felt clearer than it had in months. I had a mission. I could see exactly what I needed to do, and I knew all the steps I needed to take to do it. The only thoughts that surfaced were about my route to the orchard.

Fly west. Punch through the clouds. Find the lake. Hey, good lookin'. Rooster tail. Across the beach. Up the path. Smell the apples. Almost there.

The apple orchard came into view, and my drive hit its first big hurdle. My head throbbed just thinking about trying to navigate those trees again. "Dammit," I spat. I pulled up just before getting to the trees. The wind changed direction on me, and I hovered a couple meters above the orchard, surveying it and shaking my head. 'This orchard's huge,' I thought. I'd been passed out for most of my little tour with Braeburn, so I didn't even have much of a memory to help me navigate.

My pulse felt irregular, and I cast glances in a million directions. I chewed on my lower lip, waffling between two choices: my adrenaline was telling me to keep flying, but the logical part of me wanted a plan. The sun was starting to set, and large, black clouds were heading my way. Looking for a yellow needle in a green haystack was hard enough, and it wouldn't be any easier with the lights out and rain pouring down.

Panic beats logic, so with a grunt, I took off. I tried to fly in a lattice pattern over the orchard, but I kept getting off course whenever I thought I'd spotted something. I'd fly down to one area just to find an old cart or a patch of dirt where I'd thought I'd seen a pony. I wasn't getting anywhere – the trees were just a little too dense to see anypony walking around under them, and I was constantly trading off higher altitude and a better view for the chance I'd miss a pony in the trees.

After an hour or so, I noticed how hard my heart was pounding. My wings quivered. I had to really focus to keep myself going at a decent speed, but I couldn't spare the extra brainpower without risking missing something. My eyes felt heavy, and the initial rush I'd gotten from leaving my house had long worn off. Instead of feeling driven to keep going, anxiety was taking over. My brain kept showing me images of failure and injury and all the worst case scenarios of an exhausted flyer high up in a storm. They were all becoming uncomfortably likely.

My lack of success wasn't helping. 'What if I can't find him? What if he won't talk to me?' My heart sank. 'What if he's totally over me and talking to him just reopens an old wound?'

It was getting dark, and a raindrop splashed on my ear. It was a bad sign, but at least it got me refocused. I shook off the fog that was covering my mind long enough to have a few lucid thoughts. "Okay." I spoke out loud to keep my mind on track. "It's stormy, it's late, and I haven't seen anypony." I had to take deep breaths as I worked it through in my head. "If he's not out here, he'd be... at his aunt's farmhouse. Okay." I sucked in more air. "Okay. Find the house, find Braeburn, and crash for the night." My heart skipped a beat, and I had to laugh at myself. "Ha! Sleep for the night."

My wings protested, but I flapped them harder to gain some altitude. After spiraling upward and faltering a few times, I had a good view of most of the orchard. Rain was starting to fall more regularly. I heard thunder in the distance. The sun had almost set, but I dug deep into my memory to narrow down where the building could be.

The twilight wasn't helping, but with a few more scans, I found the clearing with the farmhouse in the middle, a tiny red dot in a green ring of grass – my target.

My whole body locked up for second when I realized I was about to face Braeburn. I faltered enough that I dropped a few meters, and I swore myself for being a coward.

'Don't be an asshole. Time to go, Soarin'.' With a mental kick to the flank, I rocketed toward the farmhouse. My body felt tense and on the brink of shattering, but by some miracle, I didn't veer off course. Rain came down harder, and wind thrashed my face, and my lungs burned while I gasped in air that was heavy with moisture and the smells of apples and tree bark. I flew forward with all I could muster, holding back just enough to keep a contrail of lightning from forming behind me. Didn't need to tempt fate any more than I already was.

I came in at a steep angle, and when I got close the house, a light came on in the kitchen that nearly gave me a heart attack. I landed on the muddy ground and skidded to a stop. My hooves hurt, but I galloped forward, closing the distance between myself and the white door. My breathing was heavy. At that point, though, I couldn't have stopped myself from sprinting even if I'd wanted to.

The house got closer as my hooves pounded the soft earth.

Twenty meters.

Ten meters.

I was there. I jabbed a hoof at the door and flung it open. "Braeburn!"

"GAH!!!" It wasn't the right voice. The pony inside toppled out of his chair, and I died a little when I saw his red coat with a green spot on the flank. My jaw was clenched tight, and I shook my head violently before taking another look. The pony stayed the same color. I stood there, completely immobilized, with one hoof holding the door open as the rain began to pick up behind me.

It took the red earth pony stallion – dude was built like a beast – a long time to collect himself. He gave a snort from the ground, then slowly stood, stretched, and shook out a dirty blonde mane. With a deep breath, he picked up the chair he'd been sitting in and set it upright. There was something fluid about the way he moved, something I wouldn't have expected from such a big guy.

The rain pattered outside, and a breeze brought the smell of wet plant matter back to my nose. The room was still, like the whole house was groggy. I felt my muscles relax as some of my anxiety and excitement melted into tired indifference.

After a long pause, the red stallion finally looked my way. His head tilted while he eyed me up and down, and his lower lip stuck out. There was another uncomfortable silence before he finally spoke in a low, folksy voice. "Evenin'."

"Uh... hi." He hadn't invited me in, but he hadn't tried to throw me out, either, and my foreleg was getting tired of holding the door open. I took it all as a sign and walked in, wiping my hooves on the mat and shaking the rain off my coat. I felt like I was in a fog again. I still had a sense of purpose, though, so I took a few more steps into the house. A rusty spring let out a haunting whine as it swung the door closed.

The kitchen was the same as I remembered it, but it felt much colder this time. The warm sunlight didn't come through an open window, the smell of pies was all but gone, and instead of the hot yellow stallion with the soft mane, I had this big guy with half a green apple for a cutie mark. I was able to put two and two together – this was probably a relative. "I'm... looking for somepony. Is Braeburn here?"

"Nnnope." He still had that contemplative look on his face, but I didn't think anything of it. His eyes flickered to something on the counter, and his ears folded against his head in embarrassment. I wasn't worried until he moved to the sink and rinsed out an empty whisky bottle. The slow movements and speech raised a few red flags – I thought he might be drunk, and with his size, I had a lot to worry about if he was an angry drunk. Plus, ya' know, I'd just barged into his house!

Still, I'd made it that far, and I wasn't turning back. "Oh, uh... Do you know where he is?" It didn't come out as smoothly as it had sounded in my head.

"Eeyup." The red stallion shook out the bottle, then set it down and closed the window above the kitchen sink. The latch gave off a loud crack as it sealed the window tight.

I rolled my eyes, not wanting to deal with another smart-aleck that night. I was having enough trouble handling myself. I gestured with a foreleg and said flatly, "You know, you're not being very helpful."

"Nnnope." His voice had an edge, one that I barely picked up on – I was too distracted wondering where Braeburn could have gone. The red stallion walked into the study, and I trotted after him.

I couldn't hide the annoyance in my voice, but at least I'd figured out to avoid yes-or-no questions. "Well, where'd he go, then?"

"Away."

'Dammit!' He sauntered over to another window and latched it shut, cutting off the rain and fresh air that were rolling in. Lightning flashed across the sky just outside, followed closely by a loud crack of thunder. I wanted to shout at him, but I was too tired to put much energy into my words. "Ugh. Then can you at least tell me if he's okay?"

The red stallion sighed and walked towards me, then past me. He would have plowed into me if I hadn't moved. "Well..." he explained, "If ya' must know, he's a bit shook up." That didn't surprise me, but it still hurt to hear. The stallion walked back into the kitchen and stopped just short of the door. "Said he had a visitor that was none too kind." My wings drooped.

There was another pause, like he was still calculating something. He stared at the door handle for a second, and then slowly rested a hoof on the deadbolt. Through my mental fog, I realized something was off about the way he was acting. "And seein' such a nice pony mistreated just burns. Me. Up."

He bolted the door shut with an ear-splitting thwak, and it hit me. It hit me like a ton of bricks. My eyes went wide, and all my limbs felt like they were made of lead.

He turned his head slowly towards me. His stare was as icy with loathing as it was fiery with rage. He scowled, and he growled at a terrifyingly slow pace that leaned heavily on every word. "But Ah... don't s'pose ya' know anything 'bout that, do ya'?"

I forced myself to breathe, and my eyes darted all around me. Everywhere I looked, I was cut off. Windows: latched. Doors: bolted. The only exit from the ground floor seemed to be the stairs on the opposite side of the house though the kitchen, and he stood between them and me. Even if I'd managed to make it outside, I knew I couldn't fly in the storm, and he'd catch me in the orchard before I got to the first tree.

He was huge. I was fragile. He fumed. I shivered. He could snap me like a twig, and my mind flashed with the thought of each bone in my body breaking, one by one, starting with my wings.

His voice got even lower and more gravely. "And Ah also s'poooooose..." He drew out every word. He lumbered toward me like a giant thunderhead about to smash a tiny, impossibly sexy butterfly with just a fraction of his power. "...ya' wouldn't know nothin' 'bout all those..." He looked at my wings and gritted his teeth, snorting hot breath across my face. "...blue feathers Ah swept up by the couch, would ya'?"

My knees shook. My teeth clattered. My throat sealed shut. Thunder roared outside as the stallion got up in my face, and even with his neck bent and his face so close that I could count his eyelashes, he loomed over me like a tsunami of red fury.

I gulped. As much as my thoughts raced with ways to get out, something in my heart pushed me to squeak, "Wh-where's B-Braeburn?"

He stomped with a forehoof and broke a floorboard with a sickening crack. Lightning flashed through his eyes. "That don't matter none! Ya' ain't gonna hurt him again, got it!?" I absent-mindedly looked down just in time to see his hoof fly up to my face. He knocked me on the chin – hard enough that I bit my lip and immediately tasted blood – and forced me to face him. "Look me in the eye and tell me ya' ain't gonna bother counsin Brae no more, or you'll be sorrier than a fox caught in a henhouse,” he fumed, and there wasn't anything slow or relaxed about his words. I hesitated, and he snapped, "Now, son! You gonna leave him alone?"

I squirmed. I hesitated. I needed to get out of there, but in the dim kitchen light behind him, I saw he had green eyes. They were angry, but they looked like Braeburn's. Seeing them calmed me down just enough to whisper, "I-I can't."

"Hm?" He pulled back his head and raised an eyebrow, keeping his hoof on my jaw.

I was exhausted in every sense of the word. My legs were still shaking, and I thought I would collapse, but I kept talking. "I-I can't. I screwed up, and he got hurt." My breathing was ragged. "He's the kindest, g-gentlest stallion I've ever met, and he took me in when I needed help, and I flipped out and insulted him and I can't even remember all the bad shit I must have said, and I-I need to fix it." My eyes were a little wet. "I have to apologize to him."

The other stallion set his hoof on the floor, but I barely noticed. Instead, I kept blubbering, my eyes still fixated on his. "I'm so, so sorry! A... abandoning him like that was the stupidest thing I've ever done, and I’m sorry, and he at least deserves to know that much, doesn't he!?" Emotion kept pouring out of me as I remembered every little detail of that afternoon. My voice returned to something resembling normal, and I felt my face relax a little into a frown. "Braeburn's special, and he's had it rough lately, and he needs more support than he's getting, right?"

The big red pony sat down, breaking his gaze and looking out the window at the storm. He took a deep, slow breath and thought for a second. "Eeyup."

I was cautious, but little by little, I felt my body stop quivering and relax. All the fury was gone from him, and what was left felt more like quiet sorrow and cool, easy contemplation, and my heartbeat went back to normal. It was like he had this aura around him that made you feel secure, like you were safe as long as he was with you and didn't consider you a threat.

I looked outside, too. It was raging out there. I sat down, and for a few minutes, neither of us spoke. All we could hear was the drumming of rain against the windows with an occasional thunderclap to keep us from getting too comfortable.

I'd stopped shaking, but it still took a lot of willpower to break the silence. "Sorry about barging in."

He turned back toward me and sighed. "McIntosh Apple." He extended a hoof. "Friends call me Big Mac."

I looked at his giant hoof, then finally reached out and shook it. A small smile found its way across my face. I spoke slowly. "I'm Soarin'. Nice to meet you, Big Mac."

"Don't call me that."

My head rocked to the side. "But you just..." My body sagged again. "Oh."

"Eeyup." He stood and walked slowly past me. "Ya' can stay upstairs tonight."

"Yeah, I should probably head – wait wait wait wait what?" He walked back to the study, then grabbed a crumpled blanket and laid it on the couch. That couch. I moaned a little, both at the memories on that couch and the fact that a stranger that didn't like me was inviting me to stay the night. "It's okay," I mumbled half-heartedly. "I can fly–"

CRACK! Right on cue. My wings trembled as I remembered all those awful flight safety manuals I had to read growing up. The only thing worse than crashing was getting hit by lightning (and then crashing). "Nnnope!" He finished setting up the bedding. "Besides, if yer serious about mendin' fences with Braeburn, then, well..." He looked down at the floor and squinted his eyes. I knew that look – he was wrestling with his thoughts. "There's something ya' should see."

My ears swiveled at him. "Really? What is it?"

McIntosh yawned. "In the mornin'." He flopped onto the couch, and after some wiggling, he was able to fit most of his body on it. His legs hung off the side.

I sighed. "Do you at least want the bed?"

"Nnnope. Always sleep down here when Ah visit Aunt Honeycrisp. Just hit the lights, will ya'?" He snuggled in and closed his eyes, so I turned, walked through the kitchen, and turned off the gem lamp at the base of the stairs.

I looked up at the mountain of wood in front of me, barely visible in the dark house.

My wings wanted to fall off, and I didn't want to bump into anything in mid-air, so I resigned myself to limping up the creaky steps. My whole body was heavy. I was hungry, my hooves ached, and the mere thought of sleep made me start nodding off. I wanted to just give up and fall asleep on the stairs.

But I didn't feel that hole in my chest. As exhausted as I was, I felt something there instead. It's... kinda weird to describe. It was like a little flame that told me to keep going, but not like a fire that burns you. More like that warmth you feel when you do something right. I think that makes sense.

No, I hadn't found Braeburn, but I was trying, and that counts for something, right? I had started, and as much as my body told me that I desperately needed food, rest, and some aspirin, what I needed more than anything was a little reassurance, something to tell me that I was doing the right thing and that this wasn't all just a massive waste, something to let me know I was getting closer to that little yellow pony.

I heaved myself up the last step, and the floor squeaked as I walked down the narrow hall. The second room on the left had a bed inside, and after a stop to the bathroom across the hall, I went in.

It was dark – dark dark – but I didn't want to risk a worse headache from turning the light on, especially since the lightning outside gave a clear enough silhouette of the room every few seconds. It was sparse, with just a bed and some dressers and probably a few things on the walls. The bed was tiny, barely big enough for me, and it hadn't been made since the last pony had slept in it. 'Heh,' I chuckled to myself. 'No wonder he doesn't wanna sleep up here.'

At the next flash of light, I moved over to the bed and sat down, looking out the window. The storm kept growing, and rain kept pounding against the roof, and I was suddenly very, very glad to be inside. In a weird way, I was too exhausted, too strained to sleep, and the thunder was too loud anyway, so I just sat there staring out into space for a while.

"Just stop." It came out barely above a whisper, and I hadn't really tried to say anything. I didn't even know who I was talking to. "Please, just stop." I closed my eyes and lowered my head as the water beat against the old, dark house. I thought about everything that had happened that day, from getting cut to from the roster to destroying my parlor to freaking out at Holli to coming here, and I felt... dizzy.

"Just... stop, okay? I can't deal with this much shit all at once." I looked down and caught a glimpse of my cutie mark. It made me remember Braeburn's bruised apple. "But I will if I have to."

My whole body shivered. It wasn't that the room was cold, but I was fatigued way beyond my limit. I wanted to just break in half and die and be done with it. Instead, I let my body fall sideways and crash onto the bed, ready for another sleepless night.

But then my head hit the pillow.

With a soft puff, a familiar scent of apple and sweat filled my nose. It was sweet and sexy, and it made me feel like somepony had applied a soothing balm to my brain. I moaned at the feeling and crushed my face into the pillow to smell him again. "Mmm..." It was faint, but it was there, and I shuddered as I rubbed my face into it. My joints stopped aching. My wings relaxed and folded in naturally. I closed my eyes and breathed in his scent, and every part of me felt just a little bit better.

After a few more deep breaths, a soft smile spread across my face. I pulled the blanket up and nestled in, whispering, "I'll be there soon, Brae." I yawned. "Be there soon."

It was the fastest I'd ever fallen asleep.

Chapter 11 - Help

I blinked a few times and squinted at the sliver of light that snuck in through the window. The sun was up, but just barely, and I was in the same position as when I’d fallen asleep. I don't think I moved a muscle the whole night. My whole body had that awesome heaviness that you feel first thing when you wake up. Even though everything's stiff, you're too comfortable to register any pain. I felt more rested than I had in weeks.

Without stirring, I took in the first breath of the morning, nice and deep and slow. A tiny bit of Braeburn's scent lingered on the pillow, but it was mixed with my own. It was... nice. I wanted to wake up to that smell every morning. I nuzzled the pillow and thought, 'Hell, why not every morning?' A dreamy haze clouded my thoughts, but pretty soon I found myself tumbling back to reality. 'Well, for one, you barely know him, and for two, he'd probably freak out if you tried to get him in bed again.'

I flopped onto my back and stared at the ceiling. The paint was chipping off.

I kept thinking about getting with Braeburn again, how he'd act all coy at first and I'd knock him off his hooves with my charm. Then he'd say something about how he couldn't possibly open himself up again, but I'd smile a little and whine in a playful, raspy voice. "But I waaaaaant you." And then he wouldn't be able to resist anymore. I pictured myself putting the moves on him, running my tongue over his chest and making him squeal, and then things would get really heavy.

It was pretty hot, and, well, yeah, I know what you're thinking, but I didn't. I swear. Would have been too weird in his aunt's bed. Plus, just my luck, McIntosh would have probably walked in on me right as I was finishing.

In the end, I took another slow breath and decided that I completely sucked at the whole planning thing – I still do – and that I'd figure it out when I got to him. 'If I can just apologize, then... who knows? Probably don't have a chance with him, but... worth a shot, right?' I shook the circular thoughts out of my head when I realized how quiet the room was. I didn't want to start another day off on the wrong hoof.

With a little effort, I rolled out of bed and stretched everything out. There was a lot of grunting and lip smacking and yawning, and I thought, 'Well, if I get cut from the 'Bolts, at least I can sleep in every day.' I love being lazy.

I walked out into the hallway and fluttered down the staircase to loosen up my wings. When I got to the bottom, I was welcomed by the smell of apples and batter and a flopping sound followed by a sizzle. I knew better than to startle McIntosh, so I cleared my throat and announced myself as I trotted around the corner and into the kitchen. "Goooooood morning, Mister Apple!" I didn’t know where the well of bounciness had come from, but I had a decent idea.

With the spatula held deftly in his mouth, McIntosh flipped a finished pancake onto a plate that was already piled high. He added some butter to the hot skillet and poured in more batter. The loud sizzling came back. It was comforting, especially once I looked around the kitchen and saw all the flour, sugar, and whatever else goes into pancakes on the counter – these things were made from scratch. I'd never had homemade cakes before, and I wondered if they'd be better than a restaurant's.

McIntosh set the spatula down on a spoon rest. "Mornin'." He seemed wide awake – or at least no more lethargic than last night – like he'd been up and about for hours already. "Coffee?" He jerked his head toward a fresh pot.

"Don't mind if I do." I made my way to the counter and poured myself a mug while a moist, post-storm breeze blew in through the open window. It hit me how bizarre it all was, that I was waking up to breakfast from a stranger – you know, one that I hadn't slept with – and being totally relaxed about it. I chalked it up to McIntosh's good vibes. "Sleep okay?"

"Eeyup."

I sighed a little. I was gonna be a long morning. "Can I... help at all?"

He picked up the spatula in his teeth and flipped the pancake. He spoke with his mouth full. "Can ya' cook?"

My turn. I turned my head up, spread my wings, and gave him my best, "Nnnnnope!" He didn't laugh. Braeburn would have laughed.

"Ya' can set the table." I did what I was told, piling a few scattered papers on one edge of the table before putting out some plates and silverware. Honestly, I was thankful it gave me something to do besides stand there staring at him, especially since I wasn't at all hot for him. He had a great physique, sure, but something about the lingering fear of dismemberment is kind of a turn-off.

After a few minutes, breakfast was served. McIntosh plopped a few pancakes onto my plate and topped them off with some syrup. He didn't use enough, but I'm guessing he didn't want me to hog everything in the tiny bottle. Good call on his part, and the cakes were tasty enough with what I had. Not Braeburn's-pie-tasty, but at least as good as most restaurants I've been to.

We ate in silence. I didn't want to be the first to speak up, since I still had no idea what McIntosh thought of me, and my shoulders relaxed when he finally said, "Ya' seem pretty set on talkin' to Brae again."

I let the fork clatter onto my plate. My head felt heavy, and my gaze dropped downward until I ran my tongue along the inside of my lip. I snapped back up and looked him in the eye. "Yes, sir."

McIntosh leaned back in his chair and scrutinized me. "Why." He stated it more than he asked it. Now that I think back, he probably wanted to make sure I hadn't been putting on a show for him the previous night.

"Well, I–" I stopped before I could spill the beans on the whole dresses-and-closet conversation. If Braeburn was having that much trouble with who he was, he probably hadn't come out to any of his family members. 'Gotta be delicate. Be diplomatic,' I thought. '...so I'm pretty much doomed.'

I took a long sip of coffee to stall for time before I continued. "It's like I said. He's a great guy, and I really liked talking to him. I don't get a lot of chances to just sit and hang without some fangirl or something trying to abduct me." A thought struck me. "Did Breaburn tell you what I do for a living?"

"Eeyup."

"Yeah, it's..." I didn't want to go into Wonderbolts politics, so I skipped over that part. I didn't notice how quickly I was talking. "It's great most of the time, but it gets tiring, you know? Ponies bothering you all the time when you just want to be left alone or be with somepony you connect with."

McIntosh nodded. Everything about him radiated calm gravitas.

I, on the other hoof, kept talking faster and faster and started repeating myself. "Aaaaand, Braeburn was great to be with. Talk to. He was great to talk to." I nodded and grimaced. "He's great."

McIntosh was stoic. He barely moved as he casually asked, "That all?"

"Um..." I didn't know what to do. I didn't want to get caught lying, but what the hell was I supposed to say? 'Oh, one more thing. You know that couch you slept on last night? I was groping your cousin on it.'

He sighed, closed his eyes, and shook his head. After a beat, he looked back up at me with his lower lip sticking out and one eyebrow raised. His head rolled back and forth, and I suddenly felt a lot of empathy for the rest of the 'Bolts during Spitfire's one-mare firing squad routine. I sweat a little. He spoke up again, "But that ain't all."

My insides were all twisty. I took a deep breath, checked to make sure there was at least one open window I could escape out of, and let it out. "And... I was into him." As much as I tried to keep my eyes on McIntosh, I had to look away. "Like... hard-core jonesing for him." I didn't want to out Braeburn, so I framed my story the best I could. "I pushed too hard, and he... resisted." My voice was low. I had to fight myself to keep it above a mumble. "...and I didn't respect his boundaries, and I have to apologize, at least for that."

My skull was still intact, so I dared to look back up. McIntosh just stared with a blank expression. I watched his chest puff up with another deep breath, followed by a simple, "Well, alright then." He reached over to the pile of papers I'd stacked up before breakfast. After some digging, he pulled out something that was folded in thirds and slid it over to me. I just stared at it until he said flatly, "Go on."

I wiped some syrup off my hooves and unfolded the paper. It was a letter.

Cousin Mac,

Hope you're well. Sorry to be so short, but I think I need your help. No cause to fret, now, I'm not in any danger, but I could really use a friendly ear.

I could hear his voice in my head. His hoofwriting was messy, and I thought it was endearing. I... tend to miss subtle hints.

You might remember, Auntie Honeycrisp has her yearly visit to the bottling company going on right now, and she always needs somepony she can trust to mind the day laborers and keep order around here. After the last few months back home, I was more than happy to offer a hoof to help her out. I just needed to get out of town, get away from all the old rigmarole and stop thinking about B-Bronze.

I blinked a few times and looked again. 'Bronze?'

Seemed like a good idea at the time, but I guess I'm not as dependable as I thought. Here I am, less than a day on the farm, and, well, no point in beating around the bush. It's colt trouble again.

I took a sharp breath and snapped my head back. My jaw hung open. I shot a look at McIntosh, who drank his coffee with a glazed-over look in eyes. He put his cup down and sucked at his teeth.

'Colt trouble? AGAIN?' I shook my head and waved a hoof. "Wait wait wait. Hold on. You... " I leaned in and turned my head toward him. "...know about Braeburn?"

His expression didn't change. It was like I'd asked him about the weather. "First one he told."

I couldn't believe it. I read that last line over and over again, thinking, 'But he seemed like such a closet case! Why didn't he say any–' I remembered. I hadn't given him a chance to say anything before I'd stormed out, and that is what he'd tried to tell me.

"Oh, fuck me!" I slapped a hoof to my face and covered my eyes.

"Language."

"Yes, sir," I moaned before reading more.

I know you probably think I'm naïve and foolish and too lovedrunk for my own good, but I hope you can forgive me and you'll be here soon, right? I just It's so hard to get beat up again over something like this.

His words were getting sloppier. I saw a couple wrinkled spots on the bottom of the page. Tear stains.

You know I wouldn't ask if I didn't really need and it's such a burden to put on you but just maybe for an afternoon, maybe? I'll pay your fare. I'm at Auntie Honeycrsp's farm. I'm sorry. I probably shouldn't even have even asked. I'm sorry.

Dont wory about coming out here. It's helps to put it all on paper, and we'll catch some other time. I'll be fine. Give the family my best.

-Braeburn

I read the whole letter again.

I started to say something, but then I read it a third time. "Shi... shoot."

"Yer food's gettin' cold."

I set the letter down and picked up my fork. My heart throbbed slowly. I went through the letter over and over in my head, and if I hadn't been so starving and distracted by my thoughts, I wouldn't have eaten any more of the pancakes.

We finished up, and McIntosh gave himself a minute to digest before walking to the sink and turning on the faucet. The sound of water rushing from the spout brought me back out of my head, and I saw McIntosh cast a glance at the dirty dishes. I took the hint and helped move plates and silverware to the sink, where McIntosh started washing.

Slinging a nearby towel over my back, I waited for him to pass something my way. Birds sang outside, and the breeze rustled the tops of the apple trees, and those were the only sounds besides the sloshing water right next to me. I'd forgotten how peaceful the country can be.

I zoned out until McIntosh spoke up. "Ah don't think ill of him." He kept his focus on scrubbing a plate. "Some do. Ah don't. Ah just try to be there for him."

A few dishes had piled up, so I started rinsing. I was still too stunned to say much, but something bothered me enough to speak up. "Why'd you show me that letter?"

"Brae told me the whole story. 'Bout you and him." I didn't know if he was answering my question. He didn't look up.

Not knowing where to put the dishes, I started piling the dry ones on the table. "I've been thinking about him a lot lately."

"Colt ain't had it easy." We weren't so much conversing as talking past each other.

"Who does, though?"

"Wonderbolts, I figure."

I picked up the next plate. I could see my reflection. The light-blue pony frowned back at me. "You'd be surprised."

We didn't say anything for a while after that. McIntosh washed everything except the cast-iron skillet. Instead of putting it in the sink, he rubbed a bunch of salt on the inside and just rinsed it off. It took me months to figure out why.

We finished our chore, and I'd collected my thoughts enough to speak up again. "You didn't answer me." McIntosh turned and stared. He seemed so quiet and calm and gentle, despite the broken floorboard from the last night that I could see out of the corner of my eye. I waited for him to say something, but he kept that blank look on his face. I tried again. "Why'd you show me that letter?"

McIntosh blinked a couple times. "Brae thinks it's his fault."

I rolled my eyes. "Ugh. It's not."

"Don't matter." His ears flicked. "He thinks it is."

I looked up at him. For somepony that seemed so simple and plain, he was the most impenetrable stallion I'd ever met. "I'm still going to apologize."

"For whose benefit?"

"I..." That question turned itself over in my mind a few times, and I slumped. "...have no idea."

I half-expected a reprimand, but instead I got a hoof solidly on my shoulder. He wanted me paying attention when he said, "Be gentle." He let those simple words hang in the air for a second, then set his hoof back down and walked past me towards the door. "Best of luck. Know where yer headin'?"

I turned to watch him leave. "Yeah. Gotta cash a check, then first train to Appleloosa."

He undid the deadbolt, gave me one last, "Eeyup," and disappeared outside, letting the squeaky door shut itself behind him. It didn't sound so scary that morning.

I leaned against the counter and looked out the window at the orchard. A soft breeze rolled in, and I could hear my breathing. It felt synchronized with the wind, but I could have been imagining it. It was even and calm, and something about the simple life of a farm pony appealed to me right then. The idea was relaxing. It was healing. It was something I thought I could settle into.

But not then. Before long, I felt something yellow and sexy and in need of a friendly ear pulling me toward the sky, and I nodded to myself. "Academy first, then Appleloosa." I hopped back from the counter, left the farmhouse, and flew towards my condo.

* * * * *

I look up from my notes, then around the white kitchen. The omnipresent cloud motif is already starting to get to me. "Back here? Why?"

Soarin' cocks an eyebrow and frowns. "Really?"

Did I miss something important? Will it look too desperate to flip through my notes? What was back here that was so necessary?

He blows air through his lips again, and his voice has an edge. "Dude, to and from the Academy." He taps a hoof on the table. "Freaking out in the parlor." Another tap. "City center and back." Tap. "Sex with Holli." Tap. "Flying to the farmhouse and getting the crap scared out of me." Tap. "Sleeping and washing the dishes." Tap.

I know. I was listening the whole time. I took notes on all of it. What's he–

"Dude! I really, really needed a shower. Badly."

Oh.

I manage to avoid looking at his leg as he points to my empty glass. "You done with that?"

Well, it's been completely drained, so, "Yes."

"Cool," he says flatly. There's an intense look of rage in his eyes, barely hidden. He's not looking directly at me anymore, and his back is aggressively arched as he delicately picks up the glasses. His left wing twitches.

Part of me wants to dismiss his mood, pretend like I haven't noticed anything, but I can't ignore my intuition. Something was off with his story. Reciting Braeburn's letter, he'd stuttered on one word.

Soarin' carries the glasses to the sink and starts washing them. He moves slowly this time, not like when he was pouring the drinks. I stand, grab a towel, and trot up to him, careful to give him a wide berth.

Soarin's eyebrows are furrowed. He's staring intently at the glass he's washing, and his head shakes just slightly as he finishes cleaning the glasses. He snorts, and his tail swishes back and forth. He glares out the window. Or is he looking at his reflection?

With an eye on Soarin', I start drying the glasses. My pulse has quickened. I'll need to speak slowly. "Soarin'..." He doesn't look my way, but his head lowers. He must know what I'm about to ask. No going back now. "Who's Bronze?"

Soarin' draws a sharp breath. His muscles tense, and he sneers. He growls a response through clenched teeth, ignoring my question. "So I flew back here and took a shower."

Chapter 12 - Fires

"The water felt... good." Soarin's eyebrows are knit. He growls and turns his head to me. His back is arched slightly, and he snaps, "I mean, what do you expect? It was a shower!"

Don't flinch, Syn. If he sees you react, he'll get angry, either at you or himself. Keep calm, and get his train of thought moving a different direction.

I smirk. "Well, you can have some fun in a shower, especially if you've got a friend with you."

He smirks back. It's a little unnerving. "Heh. Yeah." Soarin's head cocks to the side, then he leans in and narrows his eyes. "Are you coming on to me?"

Well, he's an eight and a half, but he said he doesn't– dammit! Professionalism! Story! Just play it off. "Eh, wouldn't you like to know?"

"Yes, I would." He stares me down.

Buck. I shake my head. "Sorry, I didn't mean anything by it." I look down at my notes. "You seemed so keen on reaching Braeburn right away. Why go back to the academy? Why not just get a few bits from the bank and head to Appleloosa?"

"I mean, I had to grab my check, you know?" Soarin' turns toward the parlor and scoops up his leg braces from the floor, then tucks them under his left foreleg and starts his awkward march. His right foreleg quivers, and his wings flap out wildly to help him keep balanced. I'm a little surprised he isn't just flying over. Doctor's orders, maybe?

I follow him, and we settle into the same spots as before – Soarin' on the couch with the screwed up forelegrest and me on the chair with the patched-up leg. He settles in and lets the braces clatter to the floor. His breathing's a little heavy. Can't be easy balancing like that, and he probably hasn't had much exercise since his hospital visit.

Okay. Fresh ink. Storyteller's settled in. Ready to go. "They would have held your check for you. They can't just keep your money."

He stretches out his shoulder. "Well, yeah, but it wasn't just the check."

* * * * *

After I toweled off, I refocused. Everything I did, I did with Braeburn on my mind, and the thought of seeing him again kept me motivated enough to put on another one of my uniforms. The fabric stung. I still didn't feel like I deserved to wear that uniform, and for a second, I thought about going to the academy without it.

But I’m better than that. I mumbled to myself, "No. No way is some stupid shirt keeping me down," and headed downstairs and out the front door.

After the storm the previous night, the skies were clear. The air felt clean in my lungs, and the wind was in my favor. It was... eerily like it had been the day before. If there were any fans watching me, though, I didn't stop for them. I didn't try to take in the scenery or keep my thoughts occupied. I just flew towards my goal.

Honestly, I was worried I'd chicken out. I wanted to be the cool, collected guy that handed off the reins gracefully, but I couldn't ignore how fast my heart was beating or how heavy my stomach felt. On the outside, though, I was totally stoic. You couldn't even tell how much I was shouting at myself inside my head.

As I coasted through the entrance, one of the guards asked, "You okay, Soarin'?" I didn't respond. I was too focused. He probably thought I was being a huge jerk.

I arrived around lunch time, and I knew Bottom Line would be in his office. With a little stealth and a lot of ignoring anypony that waved at me, I snuck into the Green Room and got to those big, imposing doors. I hesitated, took a moment to steel myself, and, after a deep breath, I knocked and went in.

I got pretty much what I expected. "Busy! What is it?" Bottom Line worked furiously, scratching his pencil against a piece of paper. It looked like he hadn't moved since the day before.

I saluted. "Captain Soarin' Windsong, sir!"

Bottom Line completely stopped what he was doing and looked up. He scowled, and the room suddenly shrank. Even a few meters apart, I could swear I felt his breath on my face. The cold metal décor bore down on me, but I was just as rigid and unmovable. I wasn't going to let him get the better of me.

And there were no fluffy pink sombreros with the little balls this time.

Bottom Line stared, unflinching. "And?"

My blood boiled. Oh, that ticked me off. After the way he'd blindsided me, I deserved more than a one-word answer. I wanted to lay into him. I wanted to have a shouting match about who the hell he thought he was treating one of his best fliers like an inconvenience and not discussing major decisions with me privately. I wanted to throw the first punch, damn the consequences, and let it all out.

But I wanted to take care of business more. As much as I hated dealing with Bottom Line, I couldn't burn my bridges, not if I had any hope of coming back to the team. Spitfire was in my corner, but I needed every advantage I could get.

Plus, the sooner I told him I was leaving, the sooner I could find Braeburn. I imagined Braeburn waiting for me just outside the door, and that thought was the only reason I was able to keep my head clear and my voice even. "I'm requesting some time off, sir. Two weeks."

"Approved." He looked back down at his papers. "You'll get your back pay once you return."

I was kinda stunned. 'That was... easy.' I let out a breath and cracked a small smile. "Thank yo–" Something hit me. "–wait. I get paid time off?"

The lead on Bottom Line's pencil snapped. He put the pencil between his teeth, sat up, and rested his chin on two clopped hooves. He spoke with the pencil in his mouth. "Yes, when you actually manage to request it first instead of just skipping practice." He was biting down pretty hard on it. "You did read your contract, right?"

I turned my head slowly to the side and raised an eyebrow. "Maaaybeee–" My voice kept getting higher. "–eeeee?"

Something near his face snapped. I think it was his jaw. "Last week's check is under your office door. Anything else!?"

I snickered. Couldn't help it. The sombrero came back, and it was even fluffier this time. "No, sir!"

"Dismissed!" I didn't need to be told twice, and for once, I was happy Bottom Line was all business.

I dashed down the hall to my office, opened the door, and slipped inside. The inspection ponies didn't let me decorate the way I wanted, so I had the standard setup: a desk, some filing cabinets, and a few awards on the back wall. They did give me some discretion with the posters, though, so I had picked up some of those old propaganda posters for the EUP guard, the ones with the smoking hot mares and stallions posing in tight uniforms and telling you to enlist.

Seeing that my office was still intact made me smile. It had always been a safe place for me to chill, away from the eyes and questions and brown-nosing of my squadmates, but I didn't want to linger. Plus, I'd stepped on an envelope, so I wasn't really paying attention to the room. I pocketed the check and took a long look at what I hoped would still be my office when I got back. "Please?" I whispered to nopony in particular. I stepped out and locked the door. Hearing the deadbolt lock into place made me shudder a little.

I stood outside the door, staring down at the handle, thinking to myself that Bottom Line wasn't the only one who worked through lunch. I heard one set of wings flapping down the otherwise silent hall towards me, so that meant she had company. Without looking up, I loudly mumbled out, "Hey, Spitz."

Eight hooves landed a few doors down, and a familiar stallion's voice whispered, "How did he know it was you?"

Fire Streak. The sound of his voice sucked all the air out of my lungs. My mouth went dry, and I got all knotted up inside. Losing something to a friend is rough like that. You really want to feel happy for them, but in your heart it just feels like you've failed, like you've let yourself slip and get one-upped. You get this feeling inside you, like the most annoying itch you've ever had, and it tells you to take back what's yours, that it wasn't meant for him, and that he doesn't deserve your place.

I sucked it up and stood straight, turning towards them. A big, goofy, forced smile was plastered to my face, and I walked forward. "Lead fliers get hearing enhancements. Hasn't Spitfire gotten you yours yet?"

Fire Streak looked tense, but he relaxed a little. "Nah, she's been slacking." As soon as he realized what he'd said, his eyes went wide and his body went rigid, and he tried very, very hard not to look at the pony to his left.

Spitfire cast him a sideways glance. "Don't get cocky." Fire Streak shrunk a bit, and I caught Spitfire giving me a subtle smirk. When she spoke up, her voice had this weird mix of pleading and sarcasm. "You coming back to the team already?"

Fire Streak perked up and kept looking between Spitfire and me. He was blinking a lot.

I waved a hoof. "Nah, not for two weeks. Gotta give Streak a change to blow you guys away." I told myself I was doing a pretty good job of staying cheerful. Fire Streak jerked his head toward me and smiled, bright-eyed with extended wings. "Or crash and burn," I added. "Whatever." The sides of his eyes and mouth sank into a terrified grimace. It was great.

Spitfire didn't notice. "We were just about to go over the modified list of stunts, but that can wait. Let's walk." She was in full-on leader mode, and that didn't stop once we were outside. "So. Two weeks. Think it'll be enough?"

I found myself looking down. "Nooooo idea." I was a little surprised at how candid I was being. I guess.... since I already knew I was off the roster and couldn't do anything about it for a while, the pressure was gone.

Well, not gone. Just loaded onto Fire Streak, and he wasn't handling it as well as I'd hoped. From behind us, he spoke up with a shaky, wooden voice. "So, uh, w-we've got weekend shows for the next month. You'll be ready to take over again, right?" He was speaking quickly, and while Spitz and I were walking side-by-side, he was lagging behind. "Two weeks off, then good as new, right?"

I mulled it over. "Bottom Line wouldn't let me." My head felt clear and, for a little while, strangely unburdened. It felt weird. Tingly. "I'll need at least one show as a squad pony to show I'm not going to screw up again."

He lagged a few more steps behind. "...Okay."

The three of us walked around the grounds, talking about logistics and how we were going to adjust the... how they were going to adjust the program. Spitfire's voice had just a little more edge than usual, but I couldn't decide if it was aimed at me or the added stress of all the extra planning. Fire Streak kept freaking out, and I tried to give as much helpful advice as I could, but my heart wasn't in it. I felt totally detached from the team at that point, and I kept casting glances at the sun and wondering when the last train would leave.

But I stayed to help. Roster or no, I took pride in my job. Spitfire was including me in planning my absence, and in her own way, it was how she showed she cared. I think. Maybe. The least I could do was show some professional courtesy. Celestia knows I needed to after a week of doing nothing but screwing up.

We came up to the mess hall. I could hear the uproar even from outside, but the noise died down left and right as we entered and made our way to the food line. A few ponies made obvious attempts to keep up their loud conversations, like they could convince themselves everything was fine and that their displaced captain wasn't just meters away, but for the most part, the eyes were on us, and the silence kept spreading. It was like a drop of blood in a pool of water, and all the fish were taking notice.

The other ponies gave us space as we grabbed some of the high-protein gruel they fed us most days. The murmurs started again when we sat down at one of the corner tables. A few 'Bolts almost sat near us, but I caught Spitfire shooting them death stares when they got too close. My chest felt tight, and that feeling of being cut off from the whole team came roaring back.

I looked over at a few stallions. They were trying to sneak glances and turn their ears to listen without us noticing, but Wonderbolts aren't exactly subtle. I sighed. "How'd they react?"

Spitfire and Streak talked over each other.

"They're fine."
"They're freaking out!"

Fire Streak leaned in, ignoring Spitfire's remark. "They saw how messed up you looked yesterday, and everypony knew what had happened, just like that." He looked up and to the side, deep in thought. "I mean, I don't blame you, dude. I probably woulda been the same way. Wonderbolts aren't exactly subtle...." I love that guy. "...but everypony's worried they're next."

I paused and gave him a weird look. I hadn't expected that. With all the tension I'd caused, I thought they'd be excited to have me out of their manes. I'd always felt comfortable and safe at the top, and I guess I'd forgotten how unnerving it was not knowing if you'd fly that week. The others needed routine and stability, too.

If I was a better pony, I would have... I don't know. I would have done something. I should have jumped up on the table and gone off on some big, showy, motivating speech about pulling together. Instead, I just... abandoned them. I should have done better that day. Add that to the long list of regrets, I guess.

At the time, I didn't even think about it. I was having enough trouble balancing my energy between chasing Braeburn and helping Spitz and Streak get adjusted. In a way, the team was their issue that week, and it wasn't my place to get the stallions' act together. It was Fire Streak's, and after all the teasing about taking over for me, it kinda ticked me off that he seemed so unprepared.

I did feel a little pang in my heart when we left the mess hall. The other 'Bolts had stayed out of our way, and it felt like I was getting cut all over again. The mess hall was just one more part of the academy that I worried I'd never see again.

We headed back to the Green Room after lunch, and Spitfire told Fire Streak to go prep the teams for the afternoon workouts. He hesitated and gave me a big-eyed pleading look, but he fluttered slowly away once he glanced back to Spitfire.

I followed Spitfire into her office. She didn't waste a second. "Smart move, taking time off. It'll be good for you." Her tone was flat by most standards, but to me, she sounded almost bouncy. "Looks like my little talk got through to you."

She wasn't quite right. "Actually, it made me freak out and smash all my stuff."

Spitfire stopped dead in her tracks and cranked her head toward me. I caught her eyeing all the breakables in the room.

I snorted and rolled my eyes. "I'm better now."

She sighed as she moved around to sit behind her desk. "For what it's worth, I'll try to keep you on Bottom Line's good side." Always business. "Stepping away for a while is a good start."

"Thanks." I didn't sit down. I had someplace I needed to be, and I really wanted to get going, but something hung in the air. "Aaaaaaand..." I shifted my weight around. "I'm sorry. For what I said. For freaking out." It took a lot of effort to look at her. "I... you really are a friend. One of the best."

She leaned back in her chair, and her gaze dropped to her desk. I couldn't see her eyes behind her sunglasses, but I didn't need to. Spitfire always speaks clearly, but this time, her words came out mumbled. "You hurt my feelings, Soarin'."

Okay. I swear I'm not a huge jerk, but you need to understand something: Spitfire and I get each other. I'm sure she was having some big, emotional moment, but when was I going to get that chance again?

I pretended to sneeze. "ACHOO!" I deadpanned, "Sorry, what was that?"

She took a shaky breath and spoke a little louder. I think she shivered a little. "I said, you hurt my feeling–"

"AAAACHOO!!! Oh, dude, I'm super sorry. One more time?"

"You're fired."

"What!?" I instinctively went rigid, and I felt my cheeks blush as I relaxed a second later.

Spitfire looked up, cocked an eyebrow, and grinned. "Jeez, Soarin', you don't need to be so uptight." There was a short pause. She recoiled a little bit, and her eyes went wide. "Wow. There's a first." After a quick shake of her head, she turned back to me. "You're doing the right thing. I'll see you in two weeks. You going to stay out of trouble?"

I danced a little in place. "Iiiiiiis my name Soarin' HCCCCCCCWAREZ Windsong?"

She chuckled and looked down, starting to fill out some forms. "See you in the papers."

* * * * *

I take an involuntary sharp breath, and Soarin' stops his story. I look up from my notes and blink a few times. "Well. That was prophetic."

Soarin' cocks his head to the side. "What was?" I can see the gears turning. Any second now. "Wait..." There it is. His eyes go wide, and his voice is low and monotone. "Whaaaat." He shudders. "How the hell does she do that?"

He's expressive again. Good. After asking about Bronze, I was worried he'd want to quit.

Might as well get a few more details since we're here. "While we're off topic..." Soarin' turns his attention back to me. "Do you even have a middle name?"

Huh. Is he okay?

There's a moment of silence. Soarin's eyes glaze over, and he giggles to himself. He looks sedated, content all of a sudden. His wings are folded in, and his tail isn't even flicking. Neither are his ears. He takes a deep breath, and his smile gets broader. "No, but if I did it would be 'Bucking'."

My body sinks and my eyes half-close. I give him a flat, "Really? Soarin' Bucki–"

He rears up on the couch, throws his head back, and flails his forelegs in the air, a huge smile on his face. "SOARIN' BUCKIIIIIIING WINDSONG!!!"

* * * * *

I gave Spitfire a hoof bump and left the office, a little surprised to see Fire Streak sitting on one of the perfectly polished benches in the hallway. He perked up as soon as he heard me coming. His momevements were jerky, he spoke too fast, and he was frowning. "Dude, I am so, so sorry about this! Bottom Line didn't tell me, and I swear – I swear – I didn't, like, ask him to cut you or anything, and I don't think Spitfire even knew about it either! And okay, so you're taking some time off, but you're still gonna be at the show on Friday, right!?" He stood really close to me.

I reached out and pushed against his chest to give myself some breathing room. "Easy, Streak." He took the hint and moved back a couple steps. "But no, I don't think I'll be there."

"What!? That sucks!" He deflated. "I'm gonna need every cheer I can get."

I rolled my eyes and sat down on a bench, motioning for him to join me. "Streak, you've wanted this for months."

Fire Streak sat next to me. "Yeah, but not like this! Not just thrown into the saddle without my buddy there!" He waved his hooves out in front of him. "And it's all so complicated! Spitifre wants me to master all these new stunts for Friday and there's all these team logistics to take care of and everypony's flipping out and Bottom Line won't tell me a damn thing!" He gave me a look that felt like a punch to the chest. "And you won't even be there!"

I was blown back a little, and all I could do was slump back against the wall, looking at the ceiling. I could still feel his eyes on me, and I had to work to force out the words, "It's better if I'm not there."

He scoffed and spoke flatly. "No. It's not."

I matched his tone. "Yes. It is. Streak, everypony was already on edge before I got cut, and if I'm backstage at the show, it's only going to distract them from doing their job. It won't do them any good to keep thinking about me judging them – they'll just keep freaking out about every little mistake they make and wonder if it'll cost them their spot. Right now, I'd be bad for the show, bad for the fans, and bad for the 'Bolts." The words flowed out of me. I may be a complete dolt, but I have my moments. "The team needs focus. They need a leader that'll get them back on course, somepony they can respect that's going to give them support when they blow it, like you did with Cloudhoof last Saturday. I can't, and you know Spitfire won't be the supportive pony they need. Right now, it's on you."

I was glad I'd gotten so much sleep the previous night, or I wouldn't have been able to get it all out. 'Thanks, Braeburn.' The smell of that pillow came fluttering back to my mind.

Fire Streak still looked like someone had stomped on his birthday cake. "But... how do you do it?"

I snickered. "Fake it. Just smile and pretend you know what's going on. Spitz'll take care of the tough stuff." Fire Streak chuckled but still looked sad, so I punched him on the shoulder hard enough to make him flinch. "You'll be fine."

That got him to look my way, at least. He stood up, straightened out his uniform, and looked me in the eye, still frowning, and let out a small, "Thanks, Soarin'."

I stood up, too, and offered him a bro-hoof. "Any time, Number One."

Fire Streak's head pulled back a little, and it took a second for my words to register, but when they did, it was absolutely spectacular! His eyes lit up, and his wings sprung out, and his frown turned into the biggest grin I've ever seen on him. He let my words sink in before he reached out a hoof, but instead of a quick bump, he hooked my leg and brought me in for a hug. Fire Streak's not really a huggy guy, especially with other dudes, so I didn't mind that it went on an awkwardly long time. Not his fault.

When he finally let go, beaming, I gave him a smile and a nod. "Go get 'em."

He took a deep breath and saluted. "Take care, captain." With a quick hop, he was in the air and speeding outside, ready to lead the 'Bolts to a great show. Just as the door swung closed, he shouted back, "I'll keep your spot warm for you!"

Later, Sunburst and Cobalt Breeze would tell me that Fire Streak pulled off all his moves perfectly – including that new Pyre Spiral trick – even though Fire Streak's convinced he could have done it better. In any case, I was super proud of him. It was just too bad the media are so easily distracted.

Watching him fly out of the Green Room, I felt good for a second, but the hallway was quiet. 'He'll do great,' I thought, but the rest of the gang crept back into my mind. 'What if he's too great? What if I just signed my resignation notice!? Holy cow, that might have been my last pep talk!' My heart beat faster, but I wasn't going to wallow any more. I knew how to beat back those thoughts, and all I had to do was keep moving forward.

With my check in my pocket, I held my head high, trotted to the exit and stepped outside. "I'm coming, Brae."

Chapter 13 - The Long Ride to Appleloosa

I flew to the bank. I don't have to elaborate, do I? It was a bank. I waited in line.

It wasn't all bad, though. The bank had the Manehatten train schedule on a big framed poster, and after I'd cashed my check, I trotted over and ran a hoof down the cool glass, looking for a good route. It took me a while, longer than it should have, but I found something decent: I could take the evening train to the southern Canterlot hub, then make a quick transfer and be in Appleloosa by noon the next day. You can buy train tickets right there at the bank, too, so of course I took advantage.

I had a few hours before my train left, so I went back home and packed my saddle bag. I didn't bring much – just some dry snacks, headshots, and a few traveling necessities. It had been a long time since I'd traveled anywhere on my own, so I figured I might as well travel light.

As much as I hoped to meander around the house and waste time until I had to go, I couldn't ignore the parlor. I wanted to leave and catch my train and not look back, but I had that tingling in my brain, that feeling you get when you know you're ignoring something. It's that feeling that won't go away unless you take care of whatever it is you're avoiding.

I bit my lip and went in. It was the first time since my freak-out that I'd stopped and really looked hard at everything: the splintered armrest, the bookcase, the ruined art... It looked like a battlefield of some forgotten war. It was calm, but you knew something bad had gone down.

The picture of my dad was one of the only things still intact. I looked over at it and sighed. "Yeah, I'm disappointed, too." There were pieces of wood and chunks of debris everywhere, but for everything that needed to be cleaned up, I didn't know where to start. It was one of those giant projects that you can't even figure out how to tackle, one that makes procrastination look super appealing.

I trotted over to the remains of the bookcase. It still stood, but the side panel needed to be replaced. I kicked a few pieces around and said out loud, "This... isn't gonna be easy." With a deep breath, I bent over and started moving all the broken pieces into one pile and everything that could be salvaged into another.

By the time I left for Appleloosa, it was a little better. No, I hadn't really fixed anything, and it would take a lot more work before I could be happy with it again, but at least I wouldn't be embarrassed if someone saw. 'Maybe they could even help me out,' I thought. In any case, I'd started solving the problem, and that has to count for something, right?

My flight down to Manehatten was quick, but it left me sweaty, and I wasn't any more comfortable inside the train station. Every square inch bustled with impatient bodies, and even flying above the earth ponies and unicorns, I still bumped up against a lot of other travelers. Everypony had someplace to be, and they didn't want anypony else getting in their way.

I wore a hat. Fans always say they see my mane and know it's me, so I'd bought an overpriced yellow sports cap from a vendor to conceal myself. It always seems to work in the books, and I don't let hat-mane bother me. It worked for the most part. A few fans still stopped me, but they were chill enough to get off my back after I tossed a signed headshot their way.

I got to the platform early. Things never go well when I'm early. I didn't want to be spotted by any more fans, so I ducked into a dark little pub near the platforms and grabbed a seat in the corner. It wasn’t quite dinner time, but I ordered anyway, keeping my head down and my eyes open for anypony to make a move towards me. That's how it works – somepony spots you in a public place, and it isn't so bad at first. But then they leave, and another pony sees their opportunity. It keeps going like that until you're getting swamped with fans from every angle and you miss your interview or your train or whatever.

I was able to keep out of sight, though, even though my food took almost half an hour to show up. It was greasy and barely worth eating, but I wolfed it down and dashed back to the platform just as the train was about to leave.

After trying and failing to dodge a camera flash from some leery-eyed unicorn, I was able to sneak onto the train and get to my compartment. I'd gotten a space in the sleeper car in one of those private rooms. They're meant mostly for families – each one has two sets of three bunks nailed to the walls – but if you've got the bits, the cashier usually looks the other way. I shut the door behind me, sat down on the lowest bunk, and there I was: all alone in my cramped little box for a ten-hour ride to Canterlot.

After a few minutes, the train lurched forward, and the heavy wheels rumbled somewhere underneath me while we built up speed. I sat on the lowest bed and looked out the window, watching the features of the train station pass by. Soon, we were out under the open sky, and I caught a glimpse of some of the taller buildings on the western side of Manehatten. It didn't take long to leave the city limits. We got past the suburbs and rolled into the flat, featureless plains.

It started hitting me that I was really doing it. I was really going out of my way to take responsibility and fix a problem I'd caused and actually make somepony's life better. I smiled to myself and sat up a little straighter. 'Be there soon, Braeburn. I'm on my way.' I thought about our reunion for several minutes, about all the different ways it could end up.

My foreleg itched, so I absentmindedly scratched it.

Then my nose itched, so I scratched that, too.

Then my throat felt like it had a lump in it, so I started humming. My wings were aching, like they needed to stretch, and my hind leg started twitching. I found myself nodding and tapping my hoof, faster and faster.

'I'm on my way.' I felt my confidence start to fade. There were a lot of different ways it could end up, and the more I thought about it, the more I started to doubt my decision to go at all.

'I'm on my way.' My breathing was getting ragged. My stomach was full of rocks. My heartbeat picked up, and I felt dizzy, and I suddenly wanted to fly very, very fast.

My eyes went wide as I kept gazing out the window. "Sweet Celestia, I'm really on my way!" The room closed in on me. I looked all around, and I realized more and more how much the cabin felt like a cage, a prison hurling me towards a rendezvous with a pony that not only wasn't expecting me, but that probably didn't want to see me at all. "I-I need air," I stammered, jerking my head toward the tiny window and wondering if I could squeeze out and fly alongside the train. "I need air!"

Right before a show, you get a feeling all over your body. It tells you to not screw up, or everypony will see what a failure you are. It pushes you to do better, and that energy sticks with you all the way through the show and long past when the audience goes home.

This wasn't that feeling. It was similar, but it was... corrupted or... something. I should have been excited or relieved, but every bone in my body wanted to escape. I wanted to jump out the window and fly home and not have to face Braeburn, and the more I realized how much I was freaking out, the more I freaked out.

My stomach did somersaults. 'It's no big deal. It's no big deal!' My spine tingled, and my mind raced with thoughts about how I might be screwed whether I went to Appleloosa or not. 'What if he won't talk to me? Or what if he doesn't forgive me? Hell, I've been messed up since before I met him! How would I even deal with the Won–'

I got about halfway through my thoughts before I recognized another familiar feeling, but this one was in my guts. I quickly stood up and smacked my head against the bunk above me. "Ow!" My vision blurred for a second, and I was suddenly completely disoriented, desperately feeling around for the window. Stumbling up to it half-blind and with a sour taste quickly rising in my throat, I struggled to keep everything choked down as I fumbled with the window latch, and I got cold sweats as I focused a lot of my mental fortitude on not passing out.

I stopped breathing. It felt like somepony was squeezing my throat. Time slowed down, but I finally flipped the latch, opened the window, and stuck my head out into the evening air.

"HRRRCHKGL!!!" Just in time for my dinner to splash onto the tracks. Some of it caught the wind and splattered against the train, and I prayed for overnight rain so nopony would notice.

I sucked in a big breath of air. It was cool and soothing and kept me from blacking out. I was still seeing dots and the edge of my vision. My lip quivered. I moaned, blinked a few tears out of my eyes and raised my head a little, but the motion of the train churned me up again. I spewed some more, then spent a few minutes dry-heaving and gasping for breath until I felt light-headed. When I felt sure I wasn't going to fall over, I spit the last of the bile out of my mouth and onto the tracks.

After some careful, shallow breathing, I wiped my mouth with my fetlock and slumped down with my head still out the window. The Manehatten lights were already fading into the twilight, and there was nopony around. My rainbow yawn had probably gone unseen.

When the noise from the tracks started getting to me, I cautiously pulled my head back into the train car, closed the window most of the way, and flopped onto the bed. It was a cheap one, not much more than a board with a little padding on it, just barely enough to be called a bed at all. It creaked as I lay down on it, and the pillow wasn't any fluffier or more comforting.

I rubbed my tummy to make it feel better. It seemed like it was settling, but I just stayed there on my back for almost an hour trying to gauge whether the next big bump would send me rushing for the window again. I tried to nap, but noooooo luck there.

A hard knock on the door got me up and moving again. I peeked out into the hallway to see a surly-looking older mare pushing a cart. "Dinner, sir?" Salty, oily smells wafted to my nose, making me cringe.

"Ugh. No, thanks." Food sounded like a terrible idea, and I had my snacks for later, anyway. I waved her away and flopped back onto the bed to watch the wall.

With my stomach feeling mostly better, I suddenly had trouble staying still. I wanted to move around, to do anything but wait there in that stupid metal box, but I didn't want to go outside and face a crowd. Foals are always wandering around the trains when they get bored, and they're the first to shout at you when they find out who you are.

I picked at a tear in the padding for a while, then took out my deck of cards. I don't even know any games you can play alone, so I tried building a card house. The train was too bumpy, so I never got past the first level. Things just kinda continued like that for a few hours – nothing to break the monotony except a stealthy trip to the bathroom to clean myself up.

Sometime after dark, I couldn't take it anymore, so I grabbed my saddle bag and chanced a run to the dining car. Fluttering to avoid making noise, I reached the back of my sleeper car, opened the door, and stepped outside onto a little bridge with a high railing. The door slid shut loudly, but by then I was out. I made my way through the next car the same way.

Thankfully, the dining room was only two cars down, and I was relieved to see there wasn't anypony there except the bartender. He was whistling and cleaning up a few plates from the dinner rush hours earlier, and the few smells that lingered were a lot more pleasant than the ones from that mare's cart. The space itself was actually pretty nice, all things considered. A few small, tacky chandeliers hung from the tall ceiling, the tables were arranged to make the room look a lot bigger than it was, and somepony had tried really, really hard to keep the plush red carpet looking clean. They hadn't succeeded, but the effort showed.

I shuffled over to the bar, dropped my bag, and sat on one of the stools.

The bartender, an earth pony in a red vest with a tan coat and black mane, stayed on the opposite end of the bar until he finished drying a plate and whistling whatever song that was, but then he came right over. "Well, I know that face!" He spoke cheerfully. His voice was a little nasally, like a showman or a barker you'd hear at a fair. When I gave him a weak, forced smile, he leaned in on the bar, not too close but not too far from me, either. "Know that expression, too. Havin' mare trouble, Mister Windsong?"

Annoying? Maybe, but I couldn't help but like the guy. He had a great smile and a calm voice, and he moved around like the bumpy tracks didn't affect him at all.

I was leaning on the bar, forelegs crossed and fidgeting with my hooves. "Well... kinda."

He was quick. Very quick. He dug under the bar and tossed a couple ingredients – something yellow and a few leaves – into a glass and started muddling, chuckling while he worked. "Heh heh. So, which version o' this story we gonna to hear? Is she crazy? Or are you stupid? Little of both, maybe?" He scooped some crushed ice into a lowball glass with one hoof, then dumped the muddled mush over it and topped the drink off with a bunch of different liquids.

I kept watching him and found myself smiling as I replied, "Oh, I'm definitely the idiot. Nooooo question about that."

The bartender stuck a straw into the drink and gave it a quick stir before passing it over. I still couldn't believe how fast he moved. "Aw, don't be so hard on yourself. Let's see... you forgot an anniversary? No, no, no. You got in a fight and said something?" He must have seen me flinch. "Prob'ly something below the belt, right? They can't hurt you if you hurt them first?"

I would have hit him if he hadn't been so damn pleasant. Instead, my eyes opened wide in disbelief. "Yeah! How'd you know?"

He leaned in a little further and scratched behind his ear. "Eh, I've had practice. You'd be surprised how many ponies all have the same problems."

"Got any advice, then?"

"Ha!" He laughed and slapped the bar. "Mister Windsong, if I knew anything about actually fixing problems, I'd be rich! I'm sure you'll figure it out, though." He nodded at the glass. "How is it?"

It took me a second, but I remembered the drink and had a sip. It was tasty! Artificial, but still pretty good. It was sweet but herby, and I couldn't place the weird, mild spiciness. "I love it! What's in it?"

"Aw, it's just mango, basil, little rum... Would be better if I could get some fresher ingredients, but that's life on the rails." He looked up, pondered a little, and whistled. "Wouldn't trade it, though. You meet the most interesting folks out here."

We chatted for a while. It was nice, but the conversation never really went anywhere. When you're in a job like that, I guess you only ever learn to how make small talk. I wasn't expecting some big revelation from this guy or anything, though. It was just nice to have somepony to talk to.

Eventually, my stomach growled, but after I asked about food, he steered me away from what he had at the bar. "Old stock," he said.

He didn't charge me for the drink, and he wouldn't accept a tip, so I gave him a signed headshot, made out to "Smileshine, the best bartender I've ever had." Smileshine told me he had a whole album of signed headshots, but that mine was going right at the front. He thanked me, and I picked up my bag as we said our goodbyes. Great guy. Not sure if he's still riding the rails, but I hope he's doing well, wherever he is.

I wandered back to my sleeper cabin and grabbed some oats from my bag. They were the sweetened kind, the ones that get your hooves all sticky if you touch them. It wasn't anything exciting, but it did the job, and I kinda liked rolling something chewy around in my mouth for a while. Gave me something to do.

As I sat there munching, that twisty feeling started to work over my stomach again, and I took a few deep breaths to calm myself. It didn't work. My lip started quivering. 'Buck. I can't do this all the way there.' Hundreds of different scenarios played out in my head as I swallowed the last of my oats. Most of them sucked.

"I need a pep talk." I glanced around. There weren't any mirrors in the train car, obviously, but I was still disappointed.

My ear flicked. I was going to have to do it the old fashioned way. I leaned forward. My head was hung low, and I closed my eyes to focus. "Okay, Soarin', you screwed up, but things are on the right track. Literally." My voice sounded small, and the walls felt close, and I told myself to speak up even though I was alone. You don't inspire confidence sounding timid. I gestured a little with one hoof and spoke louder. "It's going to get better. You're going to make it better, because you're Soarin' Windsong, and you don't let anypony keep you down!"

I started nodding to myself and drumming my hooves against the bed. "You got this. You've got charm, confidence, and a smokin' hot bod that nopony can say 'no' to." I smirked and nodded harder. "It'll be great! You'll get to Appleloosa, find Braeburn, and say–"

I looked up and opened my eyes, and I could see him right there in front of me. My heart stopped and my voice cracked. "Hey, Braeburn!"

It wasn't like the restaurant. This Braeburn wasn't laughing. He was staring me down with furrowed eyebrows and bared teeth. I tried to ignore my heart rate and keep talking myself through the routine. "You probably weren't expecting me. I-I... sorry for just showing up out of the blue, but I... I wanted to, um..." Imaginary Braeburn started crying silently. "You don't need to... I'm sorry about the stuff that happened." He curled his lip and shot me a sneer.

I didn't like where the conversation was going.

My hairs pricked up as my chest tightened. "I just... I-I'm sorry, okay!" Braeburn rolled his eyes, like he was judging me, and I felt myself getting worked up. I was already too far gone to stop myself, though. The snowball was picking up speed. "It wasn't my fault." I pointed a hoof at the darkness in front of me as the knot in my stomach grew larger. I felt control of my thoughts slipping away. "You're the one that jumped me. You should have told me you were so skittish!" I saw Braeburn turn to leave, and I threw my hooves up. "Fine! I don't need you! I don't need any of this! You think I like feeling guilty all the time? You don't need to be an asshole about it! You're not the only pony with–"

Three loud knocks on the wall broke me out of my scream fest. My neighbors clearly didn't appreciate my little role-play.

I tumbled back to reality. I was breathing hard. My body was shaking, and my jaw hurt. Must have been clenching my teeth. When I finally got ahold of myself, I let my body go slack. The bed caught me with a loud squeak. I mumbled into the pillow, "Well, shit," and waited for the adrenaline to wear off.

'No more pep talks. Not tonight,' I thought. I tried to fall asleep again, but I was way too tense, and when I rolled over to look out the window, the night sky looked a lot more inviting than staying in a cramped room breathing stale air.

I didn't want to risk taking off through such a small window, so I hauled myself out of bed, out of my room, and back to the junction between the sleeper cars. The door was too noisy again, but I wasn't being as careful that time. The tracks sped past underneath me, and in the moonlight, I was able to make out a ladder that led to the top of the car. It was stored high up and out of reach, but, you know, wings. I grabbed it and pulled it down with just a couple flaps. See, I didn't want to just fly up to the roof, since opening your wings right before a massive change in wind resistance is a great way to get knocked out of the sky. You only make that mistake once.

I climbed the ladder and poked my head out above the car. The cold wind slapped my face, but after the initial shock, it felt good, like it was blowing away all my other thoughts. What more could I have asked for?

The roof had a small track on top lined with some kind of rubber or something – probably for maintenance – and there was a low guide rail that I clung to while I hoisted myself up. I kept my wings folded in tightly. At that speed, I would have been peeled right off the car if they opened at all.

It was loud up there. Between the wheels rolling over the track and the wind rushing by, all my surface thoughts were being drowned out. It was exactly what I wanted.

Gusts of wind pounded at my chest, and my mane whipped around and beat against the back of my neck as I found a good position to sit in. I had to wobble a little to keep my balance, but after a few minutes, I got used to swaying my body just the right way. It was a lot like flying or sex or dancing. You get into a rhythm after a while.

When I got sick of sitting, I lay down on my back, keeping a hoof on the guide rail just in case. The sky was mostly clear, and for as fast as we were moving, everything seemed so motionless and serene when I looked up at that big, black dome. The stars were twinkling, and the moon was almost perfectly round. It reminded me of Braeburn's butt.

Don't write that down! Princess Luna sees everything!

The wheels kept rattling on the track, and the air kept whizzing by. I had my forelegs behind my head, and everything was loud in a really peaceful way.

The few thoughts I could form kept looping over and over. 'I should probably head back to my bed. I'm not tired, though. I should get some sleep before I meet Braeburn, but I wouldn't be able to. He's the reason I'm up here, anyway. I don't want to be a total wreck tomorrow, though. I should probably head back to my bed.' It was that same logic over and over, except... well...

There... was also this other thing.

I was remembering the time Dad let me stay up super late. I'd asked about the stars, but it was a little weird. When I asked, "Why does everypony like stars so much?" I was talking about celebrities.

Dad misunderstood. I hadn't gotten my cutie mark yet, so maybe he thought I could be an astronomer or something, but he just replied, "Well, how about we go take a look tonight?" The way he smiled made me nervous. See, that was back when I was just a colt, back when things were pretty rough and the two of us were still adjusting to the... new living situation. Dad was smiling about something again, though, and that made me happy, so I told him I really wanted to go stargazing with him.

We waited around playing board games in the kitchen long after the sun had gone down. I remember looking at the game pieces and whining, "Ugh. Can we go yet?" and following it up with a yawn.

Dad just chuckled. "Aw, Stormcloud running out of thunder?" He passed me his mug of lukewarm coffee. "Here, have a gulp."

I poked at the mug. I was afraid to drink it, because coffee was supposed to be a grown-up drink, and the last time I'd snuck a grown-up drink, I'd gotten completely blitzed and Dad had to take me to the hospital to get my stomach pumped.

What? I was an early bloomer.

Dad seemed okay with me drinking the coffee, though, so I picked up the mug. I looked back at him, but he didn't stop me. I stared at the inky black liquid. It didn't look like anything else I'd ever tasted. All at once, I took a big drink and immediately spat most of it back into the cup, but plenty of it splashed onto the table. "Gross!" Dad burst out laughing. I frowned a little. "Why are grown-up drinks all so yucky? Do I have to drink this stuff when I'm big?" I legitimately, for-real thought I wouldn't be allowed to grow up if I didn't drink enough.

Dad settled down, then reached over and scratched the top of my head, right on the mane where it always felt the best. "You'll change your tune someday, big guy. Let's go."

Our house was on the outskirts of Cloudsale's suburbs, but there was a nearby park with a big hill that blocked out most of the city lights. It was cold out, and I felt like I wasn't flying as fast as I should have been. Dad waited for me, of course, but it still made me feel slow. My eyes were heavy by the time we got to the park, and it didn't help that we laid down on a particularly soft cloud.

After we'd settled in, Dad pointed at the sky. "Take a look, Soarin'." He started waving his hoof around, like he was painting a picture just for the two of us. "So, the stars help the moon light up the night sky. If you look closely, you can see them twinkle, almost like they're moving!" His voice was lively and bouncy, and that comforted me. He hadn't sounded like that in weeks.

I looked wherever he pointed, and he kept going. "A lot of ponies just like watching them and thinking about the big things in life. If you use your imagination, they can make a bunch of different shapes, too! It's sort of like those dot-to-dots you do at school."

Dad always knew everything, and he always wanted to share with me. If it wasn't the stars, then it was the wind or flying or sports or anything else. With him teaching me and talking to me, I felt happy and safe, so it didn't take me long to fall asleep.

I woke up sometime later, shivering and curled up in a little ball. I cracked open an eye just a little.

Dad wasn't pointing any more. He was still looking up at the stars and talking, but his voice was different. It was lower, mellower, slower. It was the same way he'd been talking to other grown-ups in those days. "...about it sometimes." He sighed. "No regrets, though. Not in the slightest. You're worth it, Stormcloud. And don't you ever think otherwise." There was a long pause. "I'm sorry I couldn't keep us all together."

Dad scratched at his chest, and when he rolled onto his side and looked over at me, I shut my eyes again. I didn't want to interrupt him. He took a few deep breaths and must have just watched me for a while. "It doesn't always end up like this, though. Lots of ponies stick together their whole lives."

He got really quiet for a while. His breaths were shaky.

"I hope you fall in love someday, Soarin', with somepony who can make you happy. Love's something special. I... I hope I didn't wreck it for you. It really is something special. Just like you, son."

He reached over and stroked my shoulder a few times, and I remember being really confused about what I was feeling inside. "That's enough outta me, though." He'd snapped back to his cheerful self, like nothing was bothering him. "Let's get you to bed."

I didn't want to get up. I didn't want to move or make him sad or even think about him being sad at all, and I thought if I just stayed where I was and let him keep teaching me about the stars, then he wouldn't be sad anymore.

It was time to go, though. Dad carried me all the way home and tucked me in nice and tight and toasty and warm.

I gave him an extra-long hug that night.

...

The train was slowing down. The wind still whipped by, but it was subsiding, and the rumble of the wheels started fading as Canterlot Mountain grew nearer and nearer.

With a deep breath, I sat up, shook out my mane, and looked down at my hooves while Dad's words played over and over in my head.

'You're worth it, Stormcloud.'

...

...

I should have talked to him more. There were always the Father's Days and the birthdays and everything, but it just doesn't seem like enough, you know? Like... you've got somepony so important to you, somepony you truly appreciate deep down, but you never take the time to thank them or tell them how much they mean to you, how much you love them and want them to be happy. And then, they're gone.

'I hope you fall in love someday, Soarin'.'

I wanted to tell him that it wasn't too late for me, that he didn't screw up my life or fail me at all. I wanted to tell him all about the things I've done as a Wonderbolt and how I've learned the right way to treat the ponies I care about. I wanted him to keep teaching me and be proud of me and be happy again. I... wanted him to tuck me in, just one more time.

I...

...

...

...I'm okay. It's fine.

I'm okay.

It didn't take long to arrive at the station. The city shone above me, big and pretty and way too pretentious. Luckily, we weren't heading into the city itself, just stopping at the south-side junction where I had to make a pretty quick transfer. I scrambled down the ladder, nearly lost my balance a few times, and dashed back to the sleeper car to grab my saddle bag.

I didn't have to wait long. The train chugged to a halt, the ear-splitting squeak of the brakes enough to wake up everypony on board. By the time the train cars lurched to a complete stop, I was already on the platform with my saddle bag, followed by about a hundred achy, cranky, groaning ponies.

I'm never as grateful for my wings as when I've got a crowd to bypass. My next train was just down the platform, but I could already hear the conductor calling, "Last call, Canterlot to Appleloosa!"

I gave the conductor my ticket and hopped on. This train was much smaller, only three passenger cars with regular seats and none of the same amenities as the last one. I don't blame them. Middle of the week, late night route... there's not a lot of money there. It's fine, though. There was plenty of space, and I got a seat with some extra leg room.

I caught sight of a clock as the train began pulling away from the station: 3 A.M.

"Next stop, Appleloosa!"

I was in that weird zone where you're tired but you don't feel tired. My eyes were dry and a little sore, but my heart started beating faster. My thoughts were racing, too, and I found myself pawing at the foreleg rest. I was nodding with the bumps in the tracks, and suddenly those itches came back. I should seriously get a medal for surviving that whole trip without going loony.

A few minutes of stewing later, I grumbled to myself, "Knock it off. You're fine. Get some sleep. You'll need it." I fished a custom eye mask out of my bag. I hadn't bought it – fans give you the weirdest things, but sometimes they can be pretty useful. It was silky and had my cutie mark on it, the lightning bolt with the wave. Almost everypony assumes all the Wonderbolts have the same cutie mark – the lightning bolt with wings – like they don't understand how clothing works. Some fans get it, though. I appreciated the attention to detail.

I slipped it on and sat back against my seat. I don't know what it is about public transport, but you always feel too hot and too cold at the same time, know what I mean? I nodded off for a few seconds at a time, but kept waking up to thoughts of how quick the seven-hour ride was going to be. Even with the eye mask, I wasn't expecting a lot of sleep. I think my exact thoughts were, 'It'll probably take me the whole trip just to fall asleep. Might be a good thing. I should figure out what I'm going to say when–'

SCREECH!!!

"Appleloosa, end of the line!"

I snapped forward and bumped my nose into the seat in front of me. My head felt fuzzy, and my legs were numb. I swung my head around when I couldn't see anything, trying to shake the haze from my mind, and I panicked a little until I remembered that I had the eye mask on. Reaching up, I tore it off quickly. Big mistake.

Everything was dazzlingly bright, like a completely sunny day back in Cloudsdale, and I felt nauseous. I turned my head and grunted. Outside the opposite window, I saw a small, yellow building with a landing platform and green pillars holding up an awning. It dawned on me.

'I'm here.'

My eyes adjusted, and I looked back out my own window. The main strip of Appleloosa was right in front of me. There wasn't much – maybe only ten or twelve large buildings along the main road – but they were all painted in rich, beautiful colors that stood out from the flat, brown scenery that surrounded them. Dozens of ponies milled about from shop to shop, some chatted on porches, and even though the town was small, it seemed just as alive as Cloudsdale. Maybe even more so, with how open the sky looked and how friendly everypony acted. It was like the town itself was breathing.

'I'm here.'

"Move along, son." The conductor pony looked at his pocket watch, then back to me.

"Uh, yeah. Sorry." I grabbed my saddle bag and slung it over my back, moving towards the platform. The rest of the passengers had already filed off, and I hopped onto the platform just before the train pulled away towards a train yard a little ways down the track.

I didn't move for a few seconds. Instead, I breathed in the air. It was clean, like home, but it had its own distinct flavor, dusty and a little salty with a strong smell of freshly cut wood. I took in a few deep breaths, then turned around and fluttered off the platform, across the tracks and onto Mane Street.

It was dizzying, which was super bizarre. Appleloosa is tiny, but everything there had this kind of real-ness to it.

My nerves buzzed when I realized I could run into Braeburn at any second. My body shook, but not in a bad way. I was scared out of my mind, sure, but there was something else, too. My ears flicked, my tail swished, and a smile grew on my face. Despite myself, I'd made it. "I'm here!"

With my head high, I trotted down the road, twisting my neck to look everywhere for my little butter-yellow pony. A few of the locals gave me looks, but most of them were friendly, waving and saying things like, "Welcome to Appleloosa, stranger!" with that homey country twang. It was so different from the cities, where everypony is always in a hurry.

There weren't a lot of buildings, but all the basics were covered. There was a general store, a saloon, a restaurant, a small-town hospital, and even a store that looked like it sold nothing but hats. You wouldn't think a store like that would survive in such a small town, but everypony there wore a hat. Every. Single. One. I thought about putting my cap on, but it's not like I would have been any less conspicuous. I was the only pegasus in sight, after all.

Part of me wanted to stop and explore, but my eyes were peeled looking for Braeburn. Within a couple minutes, though, I was at the other side of town and hadn't seen him. The only thing in front of me was a small field of dry-looking grass that bumped up against a steep hill, one that had tons of gigantic hoofprints on it.

Staring at that hill, I must have looked really out of place, because eventually three stallions approached me: a grey one in front followed by a blue one and a green one, all earth ponies. The grey one spoke up with a smile and a country accent. "You lost, stranger?"

I paused. "Kinda..." He raised an eyebrow at me, so I elaborated. "I'm looking for a pony named Braeburn. Yellow guy, wears a vest. You seen him?"

The blue one in the back scoffed and growled in a low voice. "Peh. Mr. Big Shot? Probably sucking off the mayor in the next town." The grey one rolled his eyes and grimaced before giving his blue friend a swift, one-legged buck to the shoulder. "Ow!"

The grey one looked over his shoulder and snarled. "Now you shut the buck up! That's not how we address comp'ny." He looked back at me. "Ignore Pridesong. He's an idiot. Mr. Braeburn's done good work around here, for the most part."

Pridesong blew a little air out of his lips and fumed to himself. "Two steps forward..."

"Anywho, Braeburn was out of town on vacation, but yer in luck. He came back early. Been holed up in his house, though. Don't know what he's up to..." He paused and thought. "...mostly, but I figure he deserves a break."

He seemed like he wasn't letting on to everything, but I didn't care. All I'd heard was that Braeburn was still in town. "Awesome! Where's he live?"

"Well, if'n you came by train 'n not feather, you were pretty close." He pointed back across town. "He's across the tracks in that little green house by the orchard, the one with the three apple trees in the yard."

I unfurled my wings and grinned. "Thank you!"

I jumped up into the air and was speeding away when he called out. "No worries. If you need anything else, my name's Slate. Welcome to Appleloosa!"

In a few seconds, I'd flown high enough to see over the buildings, and it didn't take long to spot the house, a modest two-story cottage with green paint, a brown roof, and a porch that faced towards town. I rocketed forward, and Celestia herself couldn't have stopped me.

I set myself down about twenty meters away from the door and trotted forward, giving myself just enough time to collect my thoughts. My heart fluttered, and I kept practicing my first words. "Heeey, Braebur.... no." My heart beat faster. "Nice to see... no." Each time, I tried to sound peppy and perky, but I didn't need to fake any of my excitement. My stomach wanted to fly away, and my head was dizzy, but I felt absolutely amazing!

I picked up the pace and started breathing heavily. 'I'm here,' I thought. 'He's going to be okay. I'm going to be okay. No matter how long it takes, I'll let him know how sorry I am, that he doesn't have anything to be ashamed of, and that he'll be okay.' The scenes played out in my head again, but this time, they all ended well, and each one made me quiver: Braeburn and me laughing. The two of us bonding, staying friends for years. Bro-hoofs. Hugs. Kisses. Cuddles.

I was at the door.

'I'm here.'

My face hurt from how much I was smiling, and I took a moment for a deep breath.

I knocked.

My legs were jittery, so I hopped in place a few time, only stopping when I heard hoofsteps. I bit my lower lip. This was it.

The doorknob turned.

I held my breath.

The door creaked open.

I smiled.

A perfect yellow face poked out from behind the half-open door, squinting at the daylight.

Just seeing that glimpse of him made my heart soar. It felt like my first flight, or like becoming a Wonderbolt all over again, like every new start I'd ever had and all the good feelings that came with them. Time went too slow and too fast all at once, and I saw the sunlight glint off those beautiful green eyes, which went wide as he realized that I'd come back to him.

My chest puffed out involuntarily, and my wings sprung up. "Hi, Braebu–"

"AW, HELL!!!"

*SLAM*

Chapter 14 - Confront

I couldn't move. My eyes wouldn't blink. I couldn't even breathe. He'd been so loud, and his face had scrunched up so tightly. Nothing on my body worked, and my brain was too occupied burning that image onto itself forever.

After a few seconds, my eyes dried out. I shook my head and snapped out of it. "Um..." The door in front of me was closed, which I couldn't even begin to deal with. It felt like I was floating, that none of it was real. Subconsciously, I think I convinced myself that it had been a dream, that I hadn't even really knocked yet, and so I... well, what else could I do?

I tried again, knocking on the door with the same enthusiasm from as before. No answer came. I knocked some more, louder than the first two times, and it finally started to sink in that, no, he'd really slammed the door on my face. "Breaburn? C'mon. Lemme in." I sounded super whiny, but my brain was way too fried to care. I pressed an ear to the door and listened closely.

Hoofsteps again, and then a weird noise. It sounded like Braeburn was snoring, but I gave up trying to figure it out when the door opened again.

I backed up a step. The excitement and nerves started coming back, and I wanted to speak quickly to get it all out. "Look, Braeburn, I–"

P-TOO!

He spat at me, right at my face. I flinched in time for it to hit me just under my ear.

SLAM!

I was dumbstruck all over again. The ooze ran down my face, leaving a warm trail that quickly went cold in the breeze. It eventually got too gross, and I had to wipe it away. I scraped my hoof against the porch to clean it off, dizzy from the whirlwind of emotions I'd gone through in the past minute. I wasn't going to quit, though. I'd come too far.

I knocked again. "Dude! Braeburn! I'm just here to apologize. Let me in!"

A muffled shout came from behind the door. "No! Go away!" There was a heavy thud followed by a loud shatter. "Damn it!"

Was I embarrassed? Hurt? Of course, but everything was giving way to the anger building in my chest. I beat on the door over and over again, shouting for him to open up, and all of a sudden, I heard hoofsteps dashing up a flight a stairs. '...Window!' I jumped backwards and started flapping as hard as I could. My body twisted in a half-loop corkscrew as I made for the side window on the second floor, desperate to get there first.

It wasn't even a contest. I put on the brakes and hovered right outside of it as he reached the top of the steps. He stopped and looked right at me.

My wings twitched, and I lurched half a meter forward before a pang in my chest took some of the edge off my rage. "Dude, I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry!"

"Fine! You're forgiven. Now leave!" He made a break for the window.

I could have made it into his house. I could have forced my way into his home and made him listen to me, and my competitive instinct was jumping up and down in my brain telling me to go for it, but I didn't. I couldn't. I wasn't going to let myself fly into a rage. 'No, not this time.'

Braeburn reached the window and jerked it closed. It caught on something halfway down, and he let out a shuddering, sobbing noise that almost knocked me out of the sky with guilt. He got the window shut a moment later, and with a quick hoof, he flipped the latch before locking his eyes onto me.

Something was off. A lot of things, actually. Instead of making a move, I kept hovering a safe distance away and wrestling with a bunch of conflicting thoughts. I was definitely looking at Braeburn through the window, wearing his same hat and vest, but his face was different than I remembered. Wrong, somehow. There he was, wide-eyed and fogging up the glass with his heavy breaths, but he wasn't the same, plucky pony I'd met before. He stood rigidly instead of comfortably, his mouth open just a little in a small frown. His face looked sickly and tired, but getting a good look at his eyes was the worst of all: they were bloodshot, weary, and they had the same dark circles I always seem to have. They didn't sparkle. They didn't shine.

"Braeburn..." I whispered. "What happened?"

"What?" He cocked his ear at me from the other side of the glass.

I held my hooves up to my face and repeated myself, louder: "I said, 'what happened?'"

He blinked hard a few times, then turned his head and mumbled something.

"What?"

Braeburn turned back to me and rolled his eyes, and then he unlatched the window and forced it open. His voice was shaky at first. "I-I'm fine." But then he collected himself and scowled. "...and I don't need any more lectures on greetin' my wardrobe, so you got no business here."

That stung. My heart hurt, and my wings felt heavy. "Look, I screwed up. Can't we just talk?" My mind raced with the same thoughts over and over. 'This was supposed to be easy! Why won't he let me in?'

Braeburn's expression softened a little. He opened his mouth, but he stopped himself before any words came out. He didn't say anything. Instead, he slowly turned away from me and made his way toward the stairs with his head held low.

He just walked away.

The only sounds were the hot desert breeze and the beating of my wings, which both began to die down. I sank to the ground and landed a few meters from the porch. As soon as I touched down, my wings drooped, and most of my body went slack.

I stared at the front door like a puppy that had chewed up the furniture, and I felt about the same way. My brain wasn't processing what had happened. I kept thinking about walking up to the door and trying for, what, the fourth time? 'Maybe he confused me for some other pony?' Nothing made sense. I'd done what I'd needed to do. I'd come all the way across Equestria. I'd found him out of all the ponies in the world, and I'd been stopped by a wooden door and a pane of glass.

You aren't supposed to lose that much velocity that quickly. When you're racing forward, you shouldn't stop. You dodge obstacles that get flung at you, you correct your course, and you keep going forward. The only time you ever stop that quickly is when you crash.

I'd crashed alright, and it had left me paralyzed. "...What now?" I asked nopony. "Just... go back home?" It seemed kind of appealing for a second: shrugging my shoulders with a "meh" and walking back to the train platform. Heading back to life as I knew it like nothing had happened. Resetting my last few months and pretending I'd never met the butter-yellow cowpony or thought about him nonstop for almost a week. Moving on and finding somepony else to keep me warm at night. I lived the entire rest of my fantasy life in a few short seconds.

When my thoughts came back to the moment, though, I hadn't moved. I was still just a light blue pegasus in the desert.

The ground was hard and uneven. A few small, sharp rocks dug into my flank, and the heat rising off the dry land was making me sweat. Or maybe it was the sun. The top of my head felt hot, especially under my mane. It was like I was slowly roasting, but I didn't move.

I don't know how long I stayed like that. Must have been a while though, since I started getting really, really thirsty. I think I noticed my shadow getting longer at one point, but I was kinda outside of time for a while, if that makes any sense.

"You lost, stranger?" a gentle voice asked. I turned my head to see a light-green mare in an orange bonnet standing nearby. "It's a scorcher out here. What are you up to?" There was a lot of concern in her voice, and more than a little confusion. She reminded me of Holli.

"I'm..." The words were hard to choke out, especially with how dry my throat was. "...waiting for Braeburn."

"Oh! Uh... does he know you're here?"

"Yeah," I mumbled. It was like I was a little colt lost at the grocery store. She was talking down to me, but I was too stuck in my head's downward spiral to comment.

"Well, you can wait at the bar if you like. Braeburn might not be home. I hear he was taking a vacation, and, well, if anypony deserves one, it's him."

"He's here."

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh." I saw her shift her weight and bite her lower lip. She looked around and suddenly seemed very alone and out of place. You ever been out on a street late at night, someplace you've been a million times before but that feels super weird with all the lights off? She had that look. "Don't stay out too long. You'll get sunburned." Weird advice, but then again, it was a weird situation. "Good luck." She left.

Maybe I was just being stubborn. I'd like to think that I was waiting for him, that I was repenting for something and knew I had to suffer alone for a while before I could be satisfied, but I might have just been a bratty, stupid celebrity that was throwing a quiet tantrum until he got his way. On the outside, there isn't much of a difference, is there?

It was getting hotter. The rocks jabbing into me were getting pointier. My head was getting sweatier. I kept watching the door.

The windows on the lower level had the curtains drawn. For just a second, a yellow hoof pulled one of them back. It was slight, but 'Bolts can perceive the smallest movements. Plus, I'd been staring at the same scene for Luna-knows-how-long, so it wasn't hard to spot the difference. Before I could contain myself, my whole body perked up, smile and all, and my eyes locked onto the window. The curtain fell quickly back into place, and so did my expression.

I sighed. "Yeah, still here, Brae." My mouth was super dry, and it had that weird, white cottony stuff inside. I dug into my saddle bag for a bottle of water and took a drink. The warm liquid hit the back of my throat, the best thing I'd tasted in weeks. No, wait. Second best. After pies. The feeling of water back in my system got my brain lubed up again, and I finally realized how psychotic I must have looked waiting outside his house like that. "Buck, Soarin'. Obsessive much?"

I wasn't the only one who'd noticed. A soft jingling of spurs grew louder and louder, and I looked over my shoulder to find a brown pony with a blue vest and the most ridiculous moustache I'd ever seen walking my way. There was an air of authority around him, like I needed to sit up and take notice. After all, he had the biggest hat.

He stopped a few paces away and spoke in a tone that was friendly on the surface but threatening underneath. His words all landed heavily, but they had some bounciness to them, too. What I'm saying is, his accent was as preposterous as his moustache. "Son, welcome to Appleloosa. I'm Sheriff Silverstar, and it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." He reached up and tipped his hat at me. "Need a place to stay the night? The Resting Tumbleweed's got the softest beds in town."

I blinked at him. He didn't blink back.

He wore a slight, forced smile, and he stared right through me. We both knew what game we were playing, and I think we both knew how it was going to end. It was almost relaxing doing the social dance like that. Still, I wasn't budging. "Thanks," I said casually. "But I'm okay. I'm waiting for Braeburn." My tail flicked involuntarily to the opposite side.

"Seems like you been doin' an awful lot of waiting." Silverstar cleared his throat and adjusted his vest. The hoofcuffs on his waist clinked against each other, and he turned his body a little so I could see them clearly. He tried to be sly about it, but ponies generally notice when you shake your hips at them. "Braeburn ain't been having a lot of visitors lately." His voice was slowly getting sterner. "I think it's best if you mosey along."

I sighed. Fire Streak once told me that every good celebrity gets arrested sooner or later. I'd dodged it so far, and the thought of explaining myself to Bottom Line sent a chill up my spine, but I wasn't going down without a... well, not a fight, maybe, but he wasn't going to push me around. "No," I spat, narrowing my eyes and lowering my voice. "I thiiiiiink it's better if I stay here a while longer." I turned my head back and faced the door again. Braeburn was peeking out the window through the curtains.

"Son, that wasn't a request." His voice had lost all its color. "You're about to leave here one way or another, and I don't take you for the bracelet type. Why not just make this easy?"

'Would I hit a cop?' My leg muscles tensed, and I tried to remember the last time I'd bucked somepony, even accidently. I looked over at his legs and tried to judge whether or not I could take him. 'He's an earth pony, so...' This guy was no Big Mac, but I still didn't like my odds. I drew in a slow breath, nickered, and stayed planted.

"You got thirty seconds."

I deadpanned at him. "Dude, I'm not changing my mind. And you aren't, either." My heart felt black and shriveled. "Just do it, already."

Silverstar hesitated and scratched the side of his neck. I'm guessing the crime rate in Appleloosa is almost non-existent. He sighed and resigned himself to what was happening. "Well, alright, then. You're under arrest for loitering and disturbing the peace."

And that was it. There wasn't a fight or even a small struggle. I was numb. Didn't feel a thing. Not worry, not anxiety, nothing. Instead, I just held out my hooves in front of me. Something must have snapped in me that day, or maybe I thought getting arrested felt... "cathartic" is a word, right? I think that's what it is. Where you feel better after a lot of buildup, even if you're not really happy?

I heard a dull thud come from the house. Instinctively, I glanced over while Silverstar fumbled with the cuffs. Braeburn's head was pressed up against the glass of the lower-story window, and he was giving me the same look Spitfire had given me the night I'd clipped Fleetfoot during the show. It was the "I absolutely can't believe you" look. He blew air from his lips and disappeared behind the curtain.

I was... sad all of a sudden, and the feeling of failure was like a rock in my guts. All I could do was grimace toward the empty window and shrug at nothing, both my forelegs sticking straight out in front of me.

* * * * *

Soarin' pantomimes the motions, weakly holding his forelegs out.

Don't stare at his legs.

He grins at them and chuckles humorlessly. "Heh. You'd be surprised how minor things can seem in hindsight." He looks over at his leg braces, which he's left lying on the floor near the couch. "I thought the cuffs were bad."

* * * * *

Silverstar tightened the cuffs at my fetlocks. I could have easily flown away if I'd wanted, but instead I hobbled to my hooves and tried to get used to walking with my forelegs so close together. I hung my head and looked back at the house, but there wasn't any movement.

The sheriff cleared his throat again. "Son, you really ought to make better decisions."

Didn't he get it? I sighed. "I was trying to."

We started marching towards town, but we only got a few steps before a door opened behind me and a set of hooves clopped out onto the porch. The sound of a soothing voice floated on the breeze and warmed me inside. "Now... now hold on, sheriff."

I didn't dare look back, but while I stared at the ground, a smile found its way across my face. It was nice hearing him again.

He spoke softly, a little whiny and a little unsure, but just as cute as ever. "He... H-he can come in."

I had to roll my eyes at his timing, but of course I was relieved. I perked up and raised my head to look at Silverstar.

The sheriff stroked his moustache once and raised an eyebrow, talking past me. "I don't know. He seems seedy." Heh. Ladies. "You sure 'bout that, Braeburn?"

"Well, no," he said flatly. "But I think I can handle him." Silverstar didn't look convinced, so Braeburn spoke up again, more confidently. "I'll be fine. This ain't my first featherhead rodeo."

Like an idiot, my first thought was, 'Was that a race thing?' I shook my head and looked up at a contemplative Silverstar. He needed another nudge, so I gave it to him. "You heard the stallion. He's got me under control." I sat down and held my hooves out again with a big grin on my face. I hadn't even considered why Braeburn was telling him to let me go, but I didn't care. I was getting my chance. My heart started beating again.

Silverstar paused. "Well, alright, but holler if he gets too unruly." With a complete lack of dexterity, he undid the cuffs and secured them back on his belt.

I snuck a glance over my shoulder at Braeburn, who was smiling politely at the Silverstar. "Thanks, sheriff."

With a final nod from Silverstar, I was free. I gave him a sarcastically cheerful, "Thanks, sheriff!" that matched Braeburn's. With a quick spin on my hoof, I turned and pranced toward the house, head held high.

Braeburn's smile turned to a scowl as I got closer, and my light-hearted trot broke down into a cautious shuffle. I trudged up to him until we were face-to-face, and I finally found my voice. "Uh... thanks. For that." He didn't say anything, but instead turned and walked inside. He didn't close the door behind him.

I followed him into the dimly-lit house. The air was humid but cool, and it was a lot more comfortable than standing outside. After the temperature, the first thing to hit me was the strong smell of whisky mixed with freshly cut wood. The cramped entry way was at one corner of the house, and against the nearby wall sat a large, heavy looking table with rope, a rain slick, and a few farming tools. On the ground next to it were the shards of a large bottle sitting in a pool of brown liquid. Braeburn must have seen that I was staring. "Mind the glass." He stepped around the mess and moved into the house.

There were two sets of stairs in the far corner, one up and one down, and to my left I could see a small living room with some raggedy furniture, a bookcase, and a dresser full of knickknacks. A big structural support beam in the middle of the house made the ground floor feel small, especially with the big black wood-burning heater that looked like it had never been used. With all the curtains closed, the yellow walls looked dingy and forgotten, and the portraits on the wall were too obscured to make out who was pictured.

I kept looking around and thinking, 'He could use an interior decorator.' After squeezing into the house, I shut the door and unconsciously dropped my saddle bag. It landed next to a hat rack that had been tucked between the open door and the wall. Did I mention how bad I am at noticing things?

Braeburn walked slowly around the house, opening the curtains to let some light in. Neither of us said anything, and it felt awkward just standing there. I took a few cautious steps forward, careful not to step on the glass, but my hooves felt like they were made of lead.

I repeated myself, since I hadn't gotten an answer before. "I... appreciate you keeping me out of the slammer." I chuckled nervously and added, "And I think Silverstar does, too. He didn't seem too good with those hoofcuffs. Know what I mean?"

He jerked the curtains on the last window open using a lot more force than necessary. "Wasn't for you," he said flatly, looking out the window and towards town. "Word's gonna get around, and it would only be worse if you'd ended up arrested. I need another rumor like a bullet to the head."

The imagery made my stomach churn, and I spat out, "There are rumors?"

Even though he was facing away, I could feel him sneer. "Yeah. What did you expect?" He looked over at me with narrowed eyes. "Appleloosa ain't really known for its pride parades."

I shrunk back and realized how unprepared I really was. I'd been expecting either a warm welcome or a heated argument as soon as I'd gotten in. This wasn't either of those. It was just... cold. The whole house felt cold. It needled at my skin and dug deep into me, like the frost in the middle of winter.

Braeburn waited for me to respond, but when I didn't, he moved over to a large, plush chair and flopped back into it. He reached down, tugged at the handle to bring up the leg rest, and reclined back. The pose he struck looked comfortable and menacing at the same time. His forelegs were crossed on his chest, and he tilted his head to stare at me from under the brim of his hat. I could barely make out two green slits, but it was enough to freeze the blood in my veins. He was still for a moment, like a wild animal before it pounces. "So..." He drew out his words. "You got my attention. What do you want?"

I sat down opposite of him in a wooden chair. My gaze dropped for a second, just long enough to see another bottle on the floor next to him. This one was apple schnapps, and it barely had a swallow left.

I started to speak, but he interrupted with, "And don't try anythin' funny. Silverstar's not one to wander away, and I'd bet you this house he's waiting outside." He sounded annoyed and angry, the way that you do when you're hurt but don't want anypony to know. Hearing him that way pushed my heart further down into my stomach.

After a deep breath, I found the courage to look up at him again. "Braeburn...." The words were heavy. "I wanted to say that I'm sorry for last week." My throat felt like it was closing up, so I kept talking. "I screwed up. I didn't–"

"You gonna take all day?" For a second, he sounded like Bottom Line. "You're sorry. I get it."

I reeled back a little. "Well, yeah. I wanted–"

"And what? You don't know how to write a letter?" He flicked a forehoof at me. "Secretary on vacation, and you had to stalk me all the way to my home to cause me more trouble?" He snorted.

"How the..." It felt like he was holding a sword to my neck, and it was starting to piss me off. There I was, apologizing, laying myself on the line, and he wasn't even letting me do it right. "I'm not trying to make trouble."

"Well, ya' are!" He pointed at the window towards town. "Everypony saw you out there, and they'll be cluckin' like hens by tomorrow morning."

The hairs on the back of my neck were sticking up. "You could have just let me in. You didn't have to be such a jerk about it!"

Braeburn slammed a hoof on the foreleg rest. "Oh, so you could holler at me some more!? You've been here two minutes, and you're already insultin' me!"

I was arching my back and gritting my teeth. "I'm just trying to apologize!"

He leaned forward suddenly and practically screamed, "Well it ain't going so well, now, is it!?" His words echoed around the empty house, and I got another good look at his eyes. They were puffier than before.

"Dude, what the buck do you want me to say!?" There's fight, and there's flight, and my wings weren't budging a hair.

"Nothin'! I want you to leave, s–" He stuttered, and his voice wavered as he finished. "–so I can forget about you and that whole mess and move on, ya' big idiot!"

"Well, too bad, because I'm not going to forget about you!"

Braeburn set his jaw. He was breathing heavily, but his expression softened just a little. He leaned back, his shoulders sank, and he looked away. There was a moment of silence. Braeburn reached into his vest and pulled out a flask. With a twist and a rattle of the cap, he tipped it back and took a long, long pull, draining the rest of it. He let out a big sigh and a big burp, and the air was sour with the smell of alcohol and stomach acid.

My brain caught up with everything I'd said. I worried that I'd gone too far, that I'd hurt him again and had only made things worse by showing up. 'Maybe I should just go.' Before my heart could break at that thought, I sat up and told myself, 'No. I'm not abandoning him again.'

He didn't look at me while he capped his flask and put it back in his vest. His voice was soft and weak. "It'd be easier if you'd–"

"No, it wouldn't." That got him to look my way, so I relaxed my tone, and my body slumped as I remembered how futile it was to try and keep everything all bottled up. "Braeburn... You can't just ignore this sort of thing. I should know. I've... tried." I looked directly at him. He was looking back at me, and our gazes held onto each other, refusing to let go. "I mean, I have noooooo idea how to make it better, but I've got a lot of experience with what doesn't work. My life's been pretty bucked up lately, and..." I hesitated, but it was time to put the cards on the table. No going back. "And I know yours has, too."

Braeburn took in a sharp breath as his eyes widened. "H-how do you figure?" He turned his head away.

I feel terrible about it now, but at the time, our conversation felt like a tug-of-war, and it was a relief for him to be the one on the back hoof. "I looked for you at the farm house." Braeburn was breathing heavily. "Big Mac..." I didn't want to spill the beans that I'd read his letter. "...let me know a little about Bronze."

Braeburn tensed, and his head shot up to look directly at me. His eyes darted all over my face, probably looking for some hint that I was lying, but when he didn't find it, his face relaxed, and he mumbled to himself, "Peh. The one time he couldn't keep his mouth shut."

I pressed him. "Bad breakup?"

He absentmindedly ran a forehoof along his flank and shrugged. "Are there ever any good ones?"

I couldn't think of a response. There really aren't. Some are just worse than others.

He kept going. His voice was back to the velvety, smooth tone from the orchard, but it was tainted with sadness. "It ain't easy, you know? Sure, the worlds' gotten better in the past few decades, but it's still hard. Ponies talk. Everypony talks, and it doesn't matter how good you do. They'll always talk about the parts that aren't quite normal, the parts that they don't think are good enough."

Just like with the 'Bolts and the media. "Heh. I know that feeling."

Braeburn whipped his head toward me and squinted. "Do you, though!?" His rage had come back full force out of nowhere. "Life on the frontier ain't like the city. Ponies here depend on each other. We need each other. It's not like being a big, fancy celebrity, Soarin'. You can't just move on to the next fan out here, or you'll find yourself alone by the end of the week!"

My hackles came up again. What right did he have to go after my job? "Braeburn, it's not that easy for me, either. We don't get close to ponies because we can't get close to them." I was trying to keep my cool, but I was losing it. "We're always on the road, and all we've got is our teammates, fliers that would sell you out in a second if it gave them a better shot at being the lead! Don't act like you know what it's like!"

And we were back at it.

Braeburn leapt off the chair and took up an aggressive stance: head down, like he was going to charge. "You don't get it! Sure, 'it's lonely at the top' or whatever, but you've got thousands of fans to pick you up again if you fall. I've only got a hoof-full of ponies I can count on, and that number feels like it's shrinkin' every day! And it's all the worse when you've got actual responsibilities to take care of instead of just floating around orchards all day!"

My face was burning. "What the–! You're kidding, right!?" I saw red and stood up, flapping my wings. I hovered, looming over him. "I'm responsible to my whole team! They all need me to be at the top of my game!" I dropped to the ground and jammed my forehead against his. "My team–"

"Your team!" He pushed back, and I gave a half step. "You've got all of them to take care of you when you're too stupid to... Ugh! I'll make this easy for you, featherhead. I. Don't. Have. A. Team!"

I backed up another half step. That clearly wasn't true. Big Mac was in his corner. "Bullshit! You've got a family–"

"My family!?" He stomped a hoof. "Fat lotta good that's been ever since I came out. You know the only thing my dad said after I told him I was gay? He said, 'You haven't told anypony, have you?' That's it! That's all they cared about! Mom didn't even say anything at all!" His back hoof stomped again. I backed up further. "No support, no questions, no effort. Just shame." Tears welled up in his eyes, and he took quick, shaky breaths. "Just SHAME!"

A feeling started building in my chest. It felt like a hollow space was getting filled up for the first time in a long while. My eyes started burning as a flood of thoughts came rushing back to me, thoughts that I'd buried years ago. On some level, I could already see the whole conversation unfolding.

Braeburn kept up his tirade. "It was the hardest thing I ever had to do, and I only did it because I thought they'd understand!" The water was streaming down his face. "I told them the truth, and they rejected it, and just like that, I'd screwed up the most important relationship I've ever had." He was shouting in every direction, like he was looking for a way out. "Just like always. Just like every other time, I went and screwed it up. I needed them, Soarin'!" He sniffed and jerked his head back to me. "You don't know! You don't know what it's like to have somepony important abandon you like that!"

My chest seized up. I lowered my head and paused, and a word slipped out. "Actually..."

You don't get many moments like that in life, where you know exactly what's going on and what choice you're about to make and what it might mean. It's that feeling that something you can't stop is coming. It feels so natural, and for all the little lies you tell to keep up the illusion that you've got your life together, for all the big lies you tell yourself just to make it through the day, the truth just spills out of you, and it only ever happens when you're at your most vulnerable. "...I do."

Braeburn recoiled a little and examined me. His face was somewhere between confused, hurt, and curious, and I couldn't bring myself to keep looking at him. I started pawing at the wood floor beneath me. I hadn't ever talked about Mom before, not to anypony. Not even Dad. It was this wounded part of me that I thought couldn't hurt me anymore if nopony ever saw it.

I sighed and sat down. It wasn't the time to hide anymore. "My mom... left my dad and me when I was a colt." It felt weird to say it out loud, and it hurt. It hurt a lot, and it hurt everywhere. "She wasn't happy. Dad wasn't either, really, not at the end. When I was really young, they'd smiled all the time, but then I got older, and they started fighting about everything." I felt the tears stinging my eyes, threatening to fall. I was holding them back as best I could, and that meant I couldn't check anything I was saying. "S-she said that he didn't pay enough attention to her, that she was getting shut out of her own life. Dad would shout back about how she never got involved with me and how we had to do things as a family now because that's the way families worked. She'd yell back about sacrifice and how she couldn't pretend she didn't have dreams of her own. I... I don't think she ever wanted a kid."

My chest felt exposed, like I could feel the breeze on my heart. Drops of salty water freely dripped from my chin and onto the floor, and my heart was breaking all over again. My brain was panicking, trying to shut out the memories before they could flood back, but it was too late to keep them all from spilling out for Braeburn to see. "That last night, I heard them yelling downstairs. I'd already been put to bed, but I got up and went to the top of the staircase." My breathing was irregular. "I got there right before she left, just in time to look down and see Mom with her suitcase. She looked up the stairs, right at me, but she didn't say anything. Not even a goodbye. She walked outside and slammed the door behind her, and I... almost never saw her after that."

I wanted to die. I wanted to crawl into a little shell and be forgotten about, or to wake up from a nightmare and be a colt again with my whole family. I wanted my mommy.

I looked up and blinked away the tears. Braeburn was sitting down, frowning and motionless. His jaw hung open for a few seconds until he finally murmured, "I'm... sorry to hear that. I didn't know." His voice was soft and gentle, and somehow a small part of it reached deep into my soul to make me feel a little better, just like at the apple tree.

I wiped my face with a fetlock. "It's not your fault." Big Mac's words rang in my head. "None of it is. Not the farmhouse, not this. Nothing."

It was quiet. It was dark. In that empty house, it felt like we were the only two ponies in the whole world. Two lonely ponies. I wanted to reach out and hug him and for him to hug me back, but everything felt cold.

Nothing had changed. Nothing had gotten better, and it didn't seem like I was helping anything. I sighed and let the chemicals in my brain sort themselves out for a minute before telling him, "I guess that's it, then."

A clock ticked from somewhere in the kitchen. "Yeah."

"I should get going."

A few more seconds ticked by. "Mm-hm."

My body didn't want to move.

But it did.

I stood up. "I'm sorry for–"

"Why'd you come here?" He caught me off guard, and he lifted his head to stare at me with big, sad, inquisitive eyes. "Nopony travels all the way across Equestria just to be polite. Why'd you come here?"

Up to that point, I hadn't really thought about it. I'd just been following my instinct for days. My first response was, "To apologize," and while that was partly true, it didn't feel totally right. The truth tends to keep flowing once it gets going, though, so I followed up with, "And... I wanted to see you again."

The corners of his mouth curled up, just a little.

It wasn't much, and it wasn't going to fix everything, but my chest loosened up at the thought that he was going to be okay, that I hadn't messed up his chances of happiness. It felt amazing, and it hurt even more. It hurt because I knew that I was done, because I knew that I'd said my piece and that it was time to leave, and even as unsatisfying as it might have been, it was all I was going to get: a small smile from a beautiful stallion.

I smiled, too, as I turned toward the door. "Take care, Braeburn. Thanks for letting me get that off my chest."

I walked.

There was a little squeak from him that stopped me in my tracks, but when he didn't say anything else, I kept going. When I got to the broken glass on the floor, I glanced to the side and noticed a dustpan on the table. Maybe it was silly of me, but I wanted to help out. It only took a few seconds to sweep up the glass and set it aside before moving on. It felt good to help, and as I reached for the door, I was finally able to hold my head high.

Aaaaaaaand that's when I saw them. I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me, so I shook my head around, but no, they were still there. They were real. They seemed so out of place, hanging on that hat rack, and I couldn't help myself. I reached out and picked them up. A floorboard creaked behind me, and Braeburn trotted quickly over while I turned them over in my hooves. "Heh. Heh heh." I looked over my shoulder at a wide-eyed earth pony that looked like he'd been caught with a hoof in the cookie jar. My grin was as wide as it could go, and I let him squirm a little before I finally said, "Nice goggles."

Braeburn fidgeted, and even in the dim light, I could see that he was blushing redder than any apple I'd ever seen. "You, uh..." he stammered, crossing one foreleg over the other and looking to the side. "Y-you left them at Aunt Honeycrisp's. I-I figured, maybe, uh, you'd want 'em back?"

We get a million of those things in the 'Bolts, new ones for every fourth show. I hadn't even noticed they were gone, but he'd kept them. Even after that fight, some small part of him had still wanted to see me again, and he'd kept them! He kept looking at the wall and stealing glances my way, muttering and searching for words, but having my goggles in his house said more to me than then I could tell you in a week.

I consciously hung them back up on the coat rack and turned around to him. "Thanks, Braeburn." For a moment, everything really was okay.

Braeburn struggled to make eye contact, and my head felt light. I knew what was coming again. It's so rare to get do-overs in real life. You should take advantage of every one you can.

His gaze finally met mine, and he spoke with a forced casual tone. "So, uh... You staying in town for a while?"

My heart melted, and electricity surged through every part of me. I could have performed a whole Wonderbolts show myself in that moment, and I was feeling just bold enough to toy with him. He was so cute when he was awkward. "Well..." I stroked my chin and put on a show of pondering about it. "I've got a couple weeks off, and I was thinking of sitting in my house eating ice cream the whole time, buuut..." I glanced back at Braeburn. He was giving me a half-amused, half-annoyed smirk. "I guess I could hang out here for a while."

"GREAT!!!" He shrunk a little at his own voice. "Great! I can give you the grand tour of–" For some reason, he reared back and whinnied, "–AAAAAPPLELOOSA!" He landed back on his hooves, and I smiled at how lively he looked, though the moment was a little short-lived. His eyes started darting around his messy home. "I, uh, just have to..." Shifting his weight, he paused and stared at the dustpan full of glass. "Is tomorrow okay?"

"That's cool." I wanted to hang out right then and there, especially since App... sorry, AAAAPPLELOOSA was such a small town, but I was willing to take what I could get. "Anything to do around town until then?"

Braeburn blinked a few times and rolled his eyes in thought. "Hm..." He snapped up suddenly, pointing a hoof at me. "Hold on a tick." In a flash, he dashed back to the living room to a bookcase and, after a quick scan, pulled out a book with a tan cover. He rushed back over and gave it to me.

I turned it over and looked at the title, printed in gold. "Whitewing's Big Score?" The name rang a bell. 'Whitewing...' It didn't take me too long. "Oh. Oh! The 'Free to Fly' sidekick! He got his own book? No way!"

Braeburn nodded emphatically. "Mm-hmm! After the main series ended, Tom Prancy decided he still had a few stories to tell. Most of 'em are limited runs."

"Dude, this is awesome! Thanks!" I looked back up, and he was leaning in toward me, smiling. "I'm gonna devour this thing!" I tucked the book into my saddle bag. "I'll probably be done by tomorrow morning. Oh, and what time should I come over?"

"Is sunrise too–"

"Yes."

"Well, just get here when you can. That okay?"

"That's great!"

"Great!"

"Great!"

We stood there, staring at each other for a few seconds, and I wanted to keep that buzz in my veins for as long as possible.

But his smile faltered. After some hesitation, I asked, "Wait, what's wrong?"

I could tell he was as excited as I was, but after a pause, he frowned and said, "It... it still hurts, Soarin'." There was honesty in his eyes, enough to bring me partway down from my high. "It's still a little raw."

He was right in more ways than one, but I wasn't going to let something as stupid as reality get me down. I wanted to kiss him on the forehead like a colt and tell him not to worry. Like, really, really wanted to kiss him right there. I settled on a wink. "Eh. It'll get better."

Braeburn tilted his head up toward me. "You think so?"

"...Yeah."

It was getting hot in there. I felt my wings start to unfurl on their own. It was time to go, and even as wired as I was, I knew I should get out of there before I screwed something up. "So, I'll... see you tomorrow." I slung my saddle bag on my back, opened the door, and was in the air after two steps.

I felt free again. From the first flap of my wings, my whole world felt lighter, like I couldn't be held down by anything.

As I sped away, out into the open sky, I heard a beautiful, mellow voice call out, "You forgot your goggles!"

With a quick corkscrew, I waved and shouted back, "No I didn't!" before speeding upwards towards the warm sun.

Chapter 15 - Take a Breath

* * * * *

"Whew!" Soarin's eyes roll back into his head, and he flops backwards with a labored sigh. "Bluh..." His tongue hangs out of the side of his mouth, and he takes a deep breath, not unlike a pony that's overindulged at a buffet.

I scribble down a few more notes and let him stew. My fetlock is getting tired. We've built up some good momentum, though, and it's almost a shame to take a break.

I look up again. Soarin' hasn't moved. Is he dead?

Yeah, it's time for a break. "Would you–"

Soarin' lifts a hoof and lazily waves it at me. "No more questions right now. Just... gimme a sec." The hoof falls to his side. His body is completely slack, but he slowly begins to stack himself up into a shape resembling a pegasus. With a crack of his neck, Soarin' looks back at me. "You hungry? I'm hungry."

It's still pretty early for lunch, but by the time we eat, it won’t be too egregious. Plus, my stomach's a little unsettled from the morning's booze. "Sure." I stand up and stretch out my back. Might as well try to keep the conversation going, even if we get a little side-tracked. "So, did you ever learn to cook?"

"Eh, I'm getting there." He holds up his hooves. "Hard to do much like this."

Walked into that one. Still... "So you just eat out all the time?"

Soarin' looks up and to the side. It wasn't that weird a question, was it? "Nah. I've got a personal chef that comes over sometimes. There's not much food in the house right now, though. It won't be delivered 'til later."

"You can get groceries delivered now?" It makes sense, I suppose. Soarin's been notorious lately for not being seen in public. Maybe I should offer to cook tonight if we're still interviewing.

"Dude, if you've got the bits, you can get anything delivered. But, yeah. Let's eat out. There's a coffee shop just outside the Estates that has pretty good paninis."

"That works." While I pack up my supplies, I keep an eye on Soarin'. He reaches down and awkwardly grabs his leg braces from the floor. His lip curls up just a touch, and he hesitates before setting them on the couch next to him.

I shudder at a loud screech, and Soarin' mutters, "Shit." His braces are tangled together. Soarin snorts and catches me staring. Oops. He looks down to the braces, then up at me again. There's a pregnant pause. "Sorry, but... could you...?" He jerks his head at the braces.

Not enough dexterity, I imagine. "No problem." I move over to the couch and take a look. It won't be hard to get them apart, but don't make it look too easy, Syn. Wouldn't want to hurt his feelings. With a little feigned effort and a well-placed swear word, I wrench the braces apart and pass them over to him. "There you go."

"Thanks, Syn." With some struggling, Soarin' gets the braces back on. He squirms and recoils as the padding rubs against the insides of his foreleg pits.

How long will we be out? I probably can't take notes while we're walking, and Soarin' will probably want to come straight back. Maybe I should leave my bag here? Nah, better safe than sorry. I tie on my saddle bag and follow Soarin' back to the entryway. His braces quietly squeak with every step.

Soarin' stops at a hallway closet, opens it up, and pulls out a small bag for himself. It's already fully loaded. Maintenance supplies, maybe? Does he need painkillers? He starts to shut the closet door, but he stops. He turns to me and asks, "Oh, hey. Is it bright out today?"

I cock my head to the side. There are few things weirder than hearing a pegasus ask what the weather is like. Sure, ask any earth pony, and we'll go on for days about how it's pretty hot today or how this winter isn't nearly as bad as the one ten years ago, but pegasi are supposed to be attuned to these things, right? "It's sunny."

"Ok." He reaches back into the closet and pulls out a... No way. He puts the cowpony hat on, and I'm having trouble reconciling the colors and the fit with his head. The brown, beat-up old hat fits snuggly, covering up his thick, blue mane, and the wide brim looks like it will do a great job of keeping the sun out of his eyes. Soarin' raises an eyebrow and sticks his lower lip out. "What?"

I'm staring again, but I can't help it. I'm completely transfixed, like he just casually drew an ancient artifact out of a lunchbox. Focus. "That's the hat, isn't it?" I point. "Braeburn's old hat."

He looks up at it. "Yeah?"

Some of the tabloids had shown him wearing it, but that had only been early on. "When did you get it?"

Soarin's eyes glaze over again, and the air in the room takes on a noticeable chill. He looks down at the floor, and a shaky smile appears on his face for a fraction of a second. I consider apologizing, but he lets out a sharp breath and casually shuts the closet door. "On the worst day of my life."

What the heck does that mean? I haven't seen that hat in months. If he'd been wearing it before the accident, I would remember it from the pictures.

That's why I'm here, though. I need the whole story.

We make our way out the front door into the cool, early autumn air. My lungs immediately feel relief from the stuffiness that I didn't even realize was bothering me. I squint at the shimmering whiteness all around and remind myself that I'm in Cloudsdale. I should expect this kind of scenery.

The front door has a lock and a deadbolt. Soarin' digs his keys from his bag, his braces creaking as he contorts them. He narrows his eyes at the deadbolt and, with two shaky hooves, stabs at it a few times with the key. He leans in further and lets out a small groan of deep concentration. The metal key scrapes across the face of the lock several times before he aligns everything correctly, pushes the key into the hole, and locks the door. After a similar effort with the bottom lock, he puts his keys away and starts a slow trot down the path.

How much harder are all these little tasks, Soarin'?

He walks, and I follow. He's moving slowly, and the braces creak ever so slightly with each step. He trots very deliberately, flexing his muscles to keep as much weight off the braces as possible. He's making himself work for it. Doctor's orders? No, spirit of an athlete, I think. His face is scrunched up in focus.

It's probably too distracting to ask, but still, "How long–" He casts me an angry glance. Right. No questions right now, though I guess the hat was the exception. Or maybe he just didn't notice. "Never mind."

Soarin's mouth twists up in a small smile. "Thanks." He looks ahead, and so do I. Central Cloudsdale shines in the distance, bustling with tiny dots in a multitude of colors. The skyscrapers live up to their name, and the light passing through the town is turned into a thousand tiny rainbows by the vapor. The breeze is cool, the clouds are surprisingly solid, and we trot along towards lunch.

Soarin' breaks the silence first. "So, what's your deal?"

I turn my head and slow my pace when I realize how much work he has to put into each step. "Pardon?"

Soarin' catches up to me. "I mean, what's up with my story? Why are you so interested?" He's got one eyebrow raised and refuses to take his eyes off of me. "Everypony else has moved on already."

"I like stories." Too simple-minded. Expand. "And, well, it seems like nopony got to hear yours. Not your side of it, anyway. The media had all these conflicting accounts of what happened, but their attention shifted away from you after the Whipped Cream Incident." Those photos. So unsavory. "I guess... I want to hear how it all ends." We pass the wooden sign for the Estates, so we can't be far from... Soarin' isn't next to me.

I look over my shoulder and stop. Soarin' stands by the wooden sign with a blank expression. "Dude. How it ends?" He holds up a hoof. "You blind or something?"

No need for that tone. I narrow my eyes, and my voice takes on a slight edge. "That's not what I meant." Whoa, now. Easy.

"Syn, look at me. I'm a wreck. Even if I got back to flying at a pro level, I'm a has-been. There's no money in hiring me back. Plus, the 'Bolts would have the press to fight with."

He's got a point. The Wonderbolts distanced themselves from Soarin' after accusations of neglectful practices flew their way. Unjustified, I think, especially since they're still paying comp. That's why I'm not a business pony. Still, a happy reunion would be quite a boon to their ticket sales. "They might see it differently once you heal up. There's still hope."

Soarin's eyes dart to the side, and he speaks in a stilted voice. "I gave that up a long time ago."

You're a terrible actor, Soarin'. "I don't believe you."

He lets out a clipped, "What?"

No, there's something else going on, and I don't appreciate the sudden coyness. "I don't believe you!" I trot back towards him. I'm getting emotional. Keep it under control, Syn. "You're not telling me something."

"I'm telling you freaking everything!" He takes a step back. "What do you think we've been doing the whole day? Besides, the media wouldn't care. It's old news."

"Is that what this is about?" I gesture at the sky. "You'll generate plenty of buzz when you're back up and flying!"

He grits his teeth. "Well, maybe I don't want them to make a big deal when I come back."

See? 'When.' Ponies that have given up don't use 'when.'

Soarin' takes a step forward and raises his voice. "Maybe I want to get back into the 'Bolts quietly. Maybe I don't need everypony freaking out again!"

Deep breath. "Then ease them into it!" I rub my temple. Deeper breath. "Sorry." Better. "The thing is, you've got options."

"Like what?" He sounds incredulous.

"I don't know, but..." My eye catches my saddle bag. "I mean, a biography or something would at least get them thinking about you again. It could earn you a few bits, too. You could tell–"

"Oh my GOSH!!!" His head snaps towards me. I flinch. What happened? Soarin' sits down and points and accusatory hoof at me. "You're just after a fucking book deal, aren't you!?"

Shit. "No, that's..." Don't pause. Shit! He'll think I'm lying! "I mean, if you wanted–" Shut the hell up!

"What if I don't want it, huh? What if I don't want the story out there?" He steps forward and pushes me in the chest. "You're going to publish it anyway, aren't you?" He turns away. "Ugh! You fucking paparazzi are all the same."

"Oh, I am not like that." Way to keep it frosty, Syn. "I'm just trying to help! And if you don't want it out there, then fine! I won't publish." I never even said I was going to! It was just an idea, right?

Soarin' looks over his shoulder at me with narrow eyes. He snorts. "Prove it." He leaps into the air and flies straight up into the sky, higher and higher. I shield my eyes as I try to find him in against the midday sun. I spot him. His wings are folded in, and he's got one foreleg against his chest, one keeping his hat on, and his rear legs are pointed downwards. He's plummeting!

Panic grips me. What the hell do I do!? Should I catch him? He's going to land right in front of me and I'll hear his legs snap and... oh. Clouds.

With a small puff, Soarin' punches right through the cloud, about a meter in front of me. A moment later, he appears again and hovers in front of my face. "If you just want the story, you don't need any notes!" He jams a hoof at the pony-sized hole in the clouds. "Dump 'em! Right now! Or you're not getting another word."

My hooves feel welded in place. What the hay is going on? I mean, he has every right to distrust reporters, but I'm not like them. I'm not in it for the fame or the bits.

...Right?

I step over to the hole. The cloud I'm standing on is thick, but wow. That's a long, long way down. My chest seizes up as I realize that he could push me right now, and I wouldn't be able to do anything about it.

I crane my head back at him. He hovers and stares. If looks could kill... "Do it."

Think.

...

Think faster.

I dig the notepad out of my bag and go over every inch of the cover. So many words. I look down the hole. So far down.

I shake my head. I can't. "No."

"No? You sure about that?" Soarin' is staring at me with those intense eyes of his.

Ultimatums always have a back door. C'mon... Maybe I can meet him halfway?

My hoof shakes, but I think I know which gambit I need to use. I toss the notepad over to him. He catches it awkwardly, and I tell him, "No. You keep them instead." Soarin' looks between me and the notepad in his hooves a few times. "You'll want it all out there eventually. No point in throwing everything away now." Steady. Don't let him see you sweat.

Soarin' looks at the notepad again, then back up at me. Does he realize I'm holding my breath? His face wrinkles into a sneer. "Fine." Thank Celestia.

There's a brief pause.

I hope he didn't hurt himself with that stunt. I consciously relax and lower my voice. "How are your forelegs?"

Soarin' flinches and looks away. "Sore." His head hangs low.

I need to ease the tension. Maybe I should say something less stupid. "You'll be okay."

Soarin' lands deftly on the cloud, wincing a little as his hooves find their place. He looks up at me with tired eyes. "...You promise you'll talk to me first?"

I breathe a sigh of relief and nod. Everything's under control. "I promi–"

"And you won't publish anything I don't want out there? There are... a few things that shouldn't get out yet."

That's always the paradox, isn't it? You don't want them getting out, but it hurts to keep them in. "I promise."

He glances at the hole. "Sorry for freaking out. I am getting better about that. I swear."

I smile. "No problem." Everything's okay. He isn't too angry, and I'll still be able to take the notes I need. I hold out a hoof to accept my notepad back.

My heart drops to my feet as Soarin' stuffs it into his saddlebag. He looks back over to me. "What?" He sees me holding my hoof out. "Oh." He bumps it with his own. "Yeah, we're cool."

My eyes are wide, and my mouth feels dry. I slowly withdraw my hoof and set it on the cloud. He was supposed to... "Uh... yeah." He is going to give my notepad back, right?

"Heh. Long as you don't go all nutso fan-colt on me." Soarin' gives my shoulder a light punch. "You'd be preeeeetty terrible at stalking me up here without any wings." He chuckles. "Least you've got the crazy obsession angle down, ya' weirdo."

Soarin' canters away with a little more bounce in his step. I pick myself up and shuffle after him. As we travel down the road, I feel my eyes boring holes into the side of his saddle bag, and the more I stare, the more my stomach churns. It feels like I'm in the middle of a battlefield without a sword, or like a hawk has made off with my wallet.

Soarin' makes a few off-hoof comments. Shoot. I need to pay attention. What's he saying?

"...better, though. Dude, I hope you never have to go through physical therapy. Wouldn't wish it on anypony."

I instinctively pat my breast pocket and clench up when my notepad isn't there. Calm down. Stay focused. "Progress is progress."

I tear my eyes away and see a cramped building with big green sign that just reads "Coffee." A few ponies shuffle in and out, and the other nearby buildings are similarly busy: a few specialty clothing stores line the street, packed tightly against restaurants, salons, and an exotic massage parlor. We must be in the business district.

As we get closer to the coffee shop, I shake out my mane and try to concentrate. I can get my notepad back later. There's still a story to hear. "Do you... I’m going to start asking questions again, okay?"

Soarin' looks up, a little wide-eyed, and he speaks a little snidely. "Uh, yeah. That's why you're here, right?"

I feel a little tug at my heart. "That's why I'm here," I mumble, unable to look him in the eye. "So... the reunion with Braeburn was on Wednesday, correct?"

"Yeah," he says flatly.

My heart beats sporadically. "That means you only had two days together before–"

"Three days." He pauses outside the door. "News doesn't travel as fast as you'd think, and they still had to find us. Didn't take them too long, of course."

"Oh." I grab the door and hold it open for him. I want to ask him about Sunday right now, but I don't want to gloss over anything. How to put it? "Three days..." The warm air and welcoming smell of coffee roll out of the café and wrap around me, clearing my thoughts. "Did you make them count?"

As Soarin' walks past me into the shop, he turns his head and gives me a small, warm smile. "What do you think?"

* * * * *

Chapter 16 - Bruised Apples

I must have looked completely insane, but I didn't care. I barreled all over the wide open skies of Appleloosa, twisting and turning and rising on the hot thermals. Even with my saddlebag strapped to my back, I felt as light as ever. My joints moved fluidly, my wings pivoted naturally, and my body just... was. Flying felt like it was supposed to, and it felt very, very good.

'Hey! I should...' I didn't even let myself finish thinking before I shot upwards, racing towards the big blue nothingness. I closed my eyes and felt my wings beat harder and harder, pulling me further into the sky. All the anxiety that had built up in my veins turned into adrenaline, and I was letting it all out in one big push up into the atmosphere. The temperature slowly dropped, and the air got thinner and thinner.

And then, I let it all go. I folded my wings in to let momentum and gravity fight over my body. I had no control over where I flew or how I spun around, and right as I hit the top, right at that spot where you're about to fall and your stomach starts to feel like it's going to float away, I opened my eyes and saw nothing but blue. It was perfect. It was home. It was that place where you're completely invincible, and everything felt right again.

I barely noticed when I began falling. I was too high on life to let something like hitting the ground at terminal velocity scare me. Wind tore at my mane and drowned out all other sounds, and all I could think about was, 'Tomorrow morning, and we'll be okay.'

As the ground tried to sneak up on me, I righted myself and stretched out my wings. I hardly felt any wind resistance. My body leveled out, and I coasted on a warm breeze, spiraling downward to the town below and hitting a perfect four-point landing in the middle of the street. Everything worked just the way it was supposed to. It was indescribable.

I rode that high for the rest of the day. Through my haze, I made my way to the Resting Tumbleweed, the local hotel. Trotting through a few saloon-style doors, I found a small reception area decorated with all the horseshoes, native artwork, old-timey pictures, and homey stitch work you could stand. It felt a little... inauthentic, like it was trying way too hard to convince you that you were in the southwest. A few urban-looking unicorns drank from flasks and played cards at a gaming table in one corner of the room, and the dim light from the chandelier gave everything a warm, inviting glow.

The receptionist nodded me over, and after a few bits were exchanged, she passed me an oversized blue key on a small chain necklace. "Easier to keep track of 'em," she said with a wink. I slipped the necklace over my head and started up the stairs, but I stopped when I heard one of the unicorns mumble the word "Wonderbolt."

I was in a good mood, so I indulged them. They gave me the usual fan treatment, talking about how much they loved the shows and how great it was that they got to meet me. I dodged any questions about why I was in town, but of course I signed a few headshots for them. I even played a round of poker. I bought in, bet all my chips without looking at my cards, and, well, you can guess how that went.

With a quick wave, I headed upstairs to my room. It was rustic, like you'd expect. There were hardwood floors and a fancy dresser and a big, square bed, and it looked like everything was hoof-made. A few framed pictures hung on the wall along with some scrolls about the "rich and vibrant history of earth pony settlers."

I had something else to read, though. I plopped down on the bed, cracked open "Whitewing's Big Score," and, with only a stop to the kitchen to get a salty "country-style" dinner, read page after page until long after the sun had gone down.

* * * * *

"Two of the number three, please, plus a large coffee with every flavor you can fit in it. And... what did you want again?"

I tear my eyes away from Soarin's saddlebag. He's looking directly at me. "Uh, dirty chai. But I can pay for it."

I reach for my bag, but he holds up a hoof. "Nah. You traveled. I can buy." He turns back to a frumpy cashier that looks like she'd rather be reading depressing poetry. "And one of that thing he just said. Thanks."

* * * * *

You know how, on your first day of school or a new job or whatever, you can't sleep the night before? You lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, waaaaaay too excited to drift off because you keep thinking about all the cool stuff you'll get to do in the morning? Well, it wasn't like that at all. I slept like a foal.

Don't judge me. I like sleep.

The next morning, I cracked open my eyes and realized my face was still wedged in the book, and my neck hurt like you wouldn't believe. The sunlight shone through the window, and I took in a deep breath of the slightly musty air. All the buildings in Appleloosa still smelled like fresh-cut wood. The town was only a few years old, after all, so it seemed dishonest that they put on the whole old-timey thing. Gotta give 'em credit, though. The beds were fluffy and comfortable, almost as good as a cloud.

My head started clearing, and all at once, the day's agenda came back to me. I leapt up out of bed and peeked out the sparkling-clean window. The sun wasn't too high up, so I told myself I didn't need to feel guilty about sleeping in.

I checked that my hotel key necklace was still around my neck – praise the moon I didn't choke overnight – and stumbled out of my room. I was only about half as awake as I'd thought, and I ended up knocking my rear leg into the doorframe before quickly locking my door. The Resting Tumbleweed was probably the biggest building in town, but the inside still felt cramped. I walked to the end of the hall, where there were two shared bathrooms – one for stallions and one for mares.

Rustic, same as the bedrooms. Clean, but, like, you wouldn't want your house to look like that. There were group showers, and I wasn't the only pony there. I ended up showering next to one of the stallions from the poker game, and we had a light "hey-how-you-liking-the-town" kind of conversation, but I kept catching him sneaking a look at my junk. Maybe it's just because I'm a celebrity, oooooooor maybe it's because I'm so impressive down there. Wouldn't you like to know?

After I'd dried off and tossed the towel in a bin, I dashed down the stairs, ignored the cheery receptionist, and galloped out the front door. One, two, three steps, and I was flying, stretching my wings and feeling the dry air brush through my coat while it evaporated away the rest of the water. Even early on a spring morning, Appleloosa was hot. Not unbearable, but I wasn't looking forward to spending another afternoon out in the sun. 'I wonder if they have those drinks with the little umbrellas?'

I flew a few wobbly laps above the town to wake myself up and take in the scenery. Appleloosa really was in the middle of nowhere. Besides the colorful buildings that made up the town and the orchard north of the tracks, salty badlands stretched as far as I could see. No other towns, just spires of rocks in the middle of the desert, the train tracks curling around them and disappearing.

Just as I was starting to sweat, Braeburn's house caught my eye, and I smiled despite the sudden feeling of tension in my jaw. I hesitated and kept telling myself, 'Just one more lap.' My head spun with all the different ways the morning could go, and I felt locked into a holding pattern while I tried to think of the best way to show up at the door, finally settling on 'not late.'

I glided over to his house and plopped down on his patio. My heart raced, and I had to laugh at myself when I realized it wasn't just from the exercise. I knocked. It helped to know he was actually going to answer this time, and of course he didn't disappoint. Braeburn never disappointed.

The door flew open. "Hey, there!" A grin spread across my face at the sound of his voice. He was already wearing his vest, but his mane was free to tumble down his neck and across his forehead. "Here I was worried you weren't gonna come. Had me about chewin' my leg off. Don't usually eat breakfast this late, but then again, I don't get many out-of-town visitors. Well, what are you standing out there for? Come on in!" Something about his oblivious rambling put me at ease. Damn, he was cute that day. I stepped inside, and he kept going without taking a breath. "You sleep okay? The Tumbleweed's been a great place since it was repurposed. Only about a year old, actually."

"Yeah. I slept great." I took another look around the house. The curtains were all open, and the whole room seemed brighter than it had the day before. The yellow walls looked cheerier, his knickknacks looked more welcoming, and even the big wood-burning stove didn't feel so imposing or dominating in the small house. Actually, it didn't feel small anymore. Cozy! It felt cozy.

There was a brown stain on the floor in the entryway where the bottle had broken. I tried to ignore it, and I was relieved that I didn't see any more liquor anywhere. It made me wonder, though, if he'd run out or hidden it. I didn't like either option.

I shook my head and looked back over at Braeburn. He hadn't said anything, which made me think he wanted to hear more about the hotel, which gave me an idea. "Got a little cold last night, though." I raised an eyebrow at him as he wandered deeper into the house. 'You gonna bite, Brae?'

Nnnnope. "Cold? Really? Well, I'm sure you could get an extra blanket form the front desk. Daisy Spring's awfully hospitable." He hadn't read between the lines. It was okay, though. Probably for the best, even. "Now, pardon my shortness, but my stomach's been roarin' all mornin'. Corn muffins and fried hay sound alright?"

"That... sounds great!" We turned the corner into the kitchen. It was well-stocked, with a wide counter, big jars for different kinds of flour and sugar, and more knives than I would know what to do with. A small table with two chairs sat next to the window, and a big ice box fit snuggly against the wall. I looked over my shoulder at the rest of the ground floor, then back at the kitchen. Whoever had built the house had clearly prioritized cooking space.

While I stood there looking dopey, Braeburn moved like lightning. He pulled pans and ingredients out of what seemed like dozens of drawers and cupboards, and he moved with a smoothness that reminded me of a professional flier. He kept smiling, too, and stealing glances my way, and his tail kept thrashing all around. Never near the food, though. He was a little yellow ball of energy, and... Ha! He was just as nervous as me, wasn't he? Dang. At the time, I'd just assumed he was super hungry.

Anyway, after he'd brought out way too many bags and bowls, he finally turned back to me. "Alright, then! You wanna prep the batter or saute the hay? I ain't got many herbs. Just the basics." The color drained from my face as he opened a cabinet that was absolutely stacked with spices and herbs and I have no idea what else. I felt an itch on my back as I slowly realized he expected me to make something.

Braeburn must have seen me looking petrified. He leaned against the kitchen table and smiled. "Lemme guess. You can't cook, can you?"

Déjà vu, right? I let my voice drop and gave him a big, bright, country, "Nnnnope!"

"Hahaha!" He laughed and slapped the table. It calmed my heart and relaxed my muscles. "Yeah, that sounds about right. So, Mac already tried to make a chef outta you? No worries. You can fry the hay. It's pretty hard to screw up."

Ok. Pro tip: if a sexy cowpony ever tells you that something's hard to screw up, he's a bucking liar! It is way, way too easy to screw up fried hay! Did you know that oil can catch on fire inside the pan!? He was so quick with the batter, I felt like I needed to catch up, so I cranked up the heat, and fwoosh!

I like to think I kept my cool, given the circumstances. "Oh sweet Celestia WHAT DO I DO!?" Fire was flaring up right in my face, and I only spun around in a circle, whimpering and gnawing on my lower lip, like, four times.

"Ya’ let me fix it!" Braeburn shouted as he pushed me aside. He reached over to the counter like nothing was wrong and grabbed a container, one of the ones with white stuff in it. With a little flourish, the air filled with powder, and the fire went out in seconds. Hardly any powder had landed outside the pan. I froze in place as he calmly grabbed another pan and started the process over again.

My eyes couldn't believe what they were seeing. "How did you do that?"

He looked over his shoulder at me."Hm? Oh. Earth pony magic."

I swear, my jaw almost hit the floor. "Seriously?" Hey, I didn't know any better!

Braeburn snorted out a laugh and gave me a wink. "Naw, just baking soda. None too bright, are ya'?"

I took a quick breath. "Why? Is that a deal-breaker?" Part of me panicked that it was, but I was trying to play it off cool. I didn't like my word choice, though. 'The buck does that mean?' I thought. 'I have no freaking clue where I even stand with him.'

Braeburn just smiled, closed his eyes, and shook his head. "I'll take care of breakfast. You just stay outta trouble."

I didn't. Three minutes into making the batter, I was sticking my face into the bowl, trying to figure out how he'd made the yellow muck with all the lumps in it. He whapped me on the nose with a mixing spoon, leaving just a little batter on my face. I snuck a taste. Dude. Just... dude.

Braeburn finished making breakfast despite me being me, and we sat down to a hot meal with a big glass of orange juice. The smells took my breath away, and after getting a nod from Braeburn, I dug right in. My lips smacked as I gobbled muffin after muffin. The warm, buttery mash was sweet, but not too sweet. Dense, but not too filling. That fried hay, though! The recipe was so basic, but it absolutely redefined "comfort food" for me. Don't let stuck-up Canterlot unicorns convince you they've got the best food. Earth ponies know where it's at.

After my first plateful, I slowed down enough to look up and see Braeburn watching me, chewing slowly and casually. He swallowed – he never liked it when ponies talked with their mouth full – and finally said, "Ain't much for table manners, are ya'?"

I smirked. "And you're pretty loose with grammar, ain'tcha?"

He steamrolled over my comment and pointed a fork at my plate. "It's good, then? You like it?" His voice was higher-pitched, and he was talking quickly again.

"Braeburn." I narrowed my eyes at him, tapped on my empty plate, and said, "You tell me," before grabbing another mound of food.

He settled back into his chair, and his shoulders relaxed as he let out a slow breath. "I suppose so, then. The way you're eating, I'd think you flew all the way from Cloudsdale!"

"Ha!" A few flecks of cornbread muffin dropped from my face. "I mean, yeah, I could probably do it, but that would completely suck! Nah, train's better for long distances."

"What's it like?"

I pulled back a little. "You don't know? Wow, you really are a small-town colt." I buttered another muffin as I thought about life in Appleloosa before the train was built. "Did you come here by wagon or something?" It made sense, I guess.

Braeburn cocked his head and squinted. "What?" After I set down my knife, he rolled his eyes and cracked his neck. "Oh. No, I mean flying. What's it like? Is it like the books?"

"Oh!" I stuffed another bite of hay – I know I keep saying how good it was, but if you haven't tried it, you haven't lived – another bite into my mouth and swallowed it without hardly chewing. "Yeah, pretty much, I think. Honestly, I never really pay attention when the authors go on and on about it, you know?"

"Heh. No, I don't know. That's why I'm askin’." He took another bite of his muffin.

I swallowed again. "It's like..." I looked out the window at the outskirts of town. Nopony was in sight, and the wind brushed through a tree in his yard. "You're totally free, like nopony can hold you down. It makes you feel safe. Even if everything's terrible, you can just pick up and leave any time you want to and try again." All my morning flights came back to me. "The wind carries you a lot more than you'd think, and you can just... escape." I turned back to Braeburn, who was leaning forward and had his head propped up on one hoof. "Does that make sense?"

He nodded. "Mm-hmm. I'm no stranger to that." His voice was soft, and his eyes looked past me. "Heh. When I was a colt, the cousins and I wanted a place to hide when we were sick of our chores. There was an old forest out behind Uncle Oak's house, and we'd sneak off to go play in the woods and climb trees." Braeburn wasn't talking the same way. He wasn't rambling or talking too fast like his usual self. It was more like he was watching something that I couldn't see and narrating it for me. "We wanted a treehouse, and, well, you don't put an idea in an Apple's head unless you want him to follow through. Heh heh. We ended up taking apart the henhouse for wood and pulling up nails from the floorboards. Just a few at first. We thought nopony would miss 'em."

I realized that I was leaning in, too. I closed my eyes, and I could see it. I could see everything he was saying. I imagined cute little colt Braeburn, sneaking around and raising hell, and I smiled at the thought of all those confused chickens.

That voice... So smooth and warm. I could listen to it forever.

"Took us the better part of a month to sneak everything out to the woods and get it all built up. We tried using rocks for hammers, and it worked for a while, but we ended up, hm... borrowing a few tools, too. Never did find that hammer again. We got it done, though. A ramshackle, off-kilter little flat with a ladder and not much else. Creaked whenever the breeze blew. We loved it.

"Course, Uncle Oak was pretty angry when he found us hiding there one day. Mac got the worst of it, since he was the oldest, but it didn't seem to ruffle his feathers none. Uncle Oak made us fix his henhouse, but he let us go play in the treehouse in the afternoons. He said, except for the thieving, he was proud of us for sticking with it and making something together."

When he let out a slow breath, my brain came back from wherever it had flown. "That sounds..." I paused. "...really boring. Why a treehouse?"

Braeburn shook his head the way Dad used to whenever I asked a stupid question. "Well, we can't all fly, ya’ know. Gotta find a way to keep ourselves busy." He picked up his glass and gulped down the last of his juice.

"Yeah, but seriously? You skipped out on your chores to do more chores. Building a treehouse sounds like a ton of work."

"Yeah, but see, it's different. When you're putting in the time and effort with somepony to build something great, it's not just the structure. You're building relationships, Soarin', and it makes the work bearable. It makes life bearable." He looked out the window. "Same with Appleloosa: there's always so much to get done, and working with Silverstar or Slate or anypony else makes it worthwhile. It..." He cleared his throat. "It gets me through the bad days." He looked back at me and, when he saw I was frowning, he smiled. "Teamwork! I'm sure you know all about that."

Of course he brought up teamwork. He just had to hit where it hurt. I thought about telling him I'd gotten cut, but I wanted to make a good impression, I guess? I don't know. I kept my mouth shut. I thought, "He doesn't need to know. Not now."

I really should have just told him.

"I... yeah. Yeah! I get it, but why work? When the 'Bolts have downtime, we hang out, we travel... Why not do something fun instead?"

"Well, there's something mighty..." He saw my mouth contort, I think, and his voice lowered. "You've heard this song before, haven't ya’?"

I nodded and blew air out of my lips. "You're going to say that you get a lot of satisfaction out of a hard day's work or something, right?"

His face scrunched up. "Well, I don't like to sound simple, but that's about right. Sounds like you don't believe it."

I smiled and winked at him. "Not for a second, cowpony. That's just what they tell you so you don't take more days off."

"Ha! Well, it's..." He rubbed his chin. "Know what? Why talk when I can show ya’? Let's head out to the orchard."

I agreed, and after we cleaned up breakfast, we got ready. Braeburn grabbed his hat, and we trotted out into the rising heat. The air was dry enough to make me cough, and a gust of wind brought some dust to my eyes, which I had trouble blinking out.

Braeburn was fine, of course. His hat, the one he always wore, kept the sun out of his eyes, and he ducked his head under the brim whenever dust blew his way. "We really gotta get you a hat at some point."

"Whatever." I spat some grit out of my mouth and hovered beside him, keeping with his slow pace. "So, not that I'm complaining – breakfast was awesome – but we didn't have any apples. What gives?"

"Noticed, did ya’?" He turned his head toward me. "Well, it's a staple food 'round here. You'll be full of apple before long."

My wings felt stiff, so I gave them a quick flap and used one to shield my face. "Don't you get sick of them?"

"N-naw. The, uh…” He cleared his throat. “Theyy change with the seasons. Nice part of being down south is that it's never too cold for the trees." He was talking fast again. I never figured out why. "We transplanted a few spring varietals last year, the same kind as at Aunt Honeycrisp's. Hope they survive the winter. They're comin’ in now on the west side of the orchard, which is where we're heading."

I felt like I was in school again and wondered if he was going to quiz me, but only until I realized he had a completely different kind of test in mind. "You're... going to make me pick apples, aren't you?"

Braeburn's voice perked up, as bouncy as ever. "You guessed it!"

The barrens of the desert gave way to some patches of grass, and the sweet smell of apples wafted to me just as I folded in my wings and looked out at the trees in front of us. These apples were different, though – the smell was sour and a little sharp on the nose. Wasn't bad, though, and seeing all that green was a nice break from the brown I'd gotten used to.

We weren't alone, though. As we approached the tree line, I spotted a few more ponies, all stallions. One of them shouted, "Mr. Braeburn!"

Braeburn turned to me. "Pardon me a tick. They're probably lookin’ to make a few quick bits." A wide-eyed look flashed across his face. "You just wait right here. I'll take care of everything."

I didn't think anything of it, really. I landed, sat on a small patch of grass and watched as Braeburn cantered over to the other group. My tail swished back and forth against the ground, reminding me what actual grassland felt like. My mind was pretty blank, and nothing seemed weird about what was going down.

He came back a few minutes later. "Sorry about that. I sent 'em over to the east side. Let's get started." He led me over to a nearby shed at the edge of the trees, a small, shoddy structure with barely enough room to turn around in. After some digging, he pulled out a couple baskets with harnesses and set them on the ground. "Now, we ain't really equipped for pegasi."

I looked closer at the harnesses. They're the kind that strap on over your back and keep your wings pinned down. "I'll say."

"But we've got a ladder if your buck's not strong enough."

I wasn't gonna stand for that. "Whoa there, cowpony! What are you implying?"

Braeburn cocked his head to the side. "I'm not ‘implying’ anything." I relaxed for a split-second. "I'm very clearly stating that you probably won't be strong enough to buck the apple trees."

He was being so casual! "Dude! I'm a freaking Wonderbolt!" I pointed to the nearest tree, a gangly one with yellow and green fruit. "They're trees! It can't be that bad."

Braeburn sat down, smirked, and jerked his head toward the same tree I was pointing at. "Then be my guest."

I snorted and marched over. I wasn't going to let myself get shown up by some country bumpkin, even if he was the hottest thing I'd ever laid eyes on. I'd seen ponies buck apples before, and it looked a lot like bracing yourself for a fast take-off. I turned my back to the tree, planted my forehooves, drew my hind legs back, and... it was exactly what you'd expect.

My hooves bucked out behind me, but even as they flew backwards, something didn't feel right. My left hind hoof skimmed the bark and slipped pitifully to the side, and my right leg twisted just as it connected. Pain shot up my leg, working its way deep into my bones. "Ow!" I collapsed to the ground, clutching my leg and shivering.

"Ha!" I looked up and saw Braeburn saunter my way, stand over me, and give me a satisfied grin. "Care to try again?"

I glowered up at him.

He smiled back. "You were off-target. You gotta hit the trunk squarely on each side of the center. Pay attention, now." Massaging my leg, I scooted away to give him room. Braeburn meandered around the tree with a swagger in his step, slowly looking up and down, appraising the trunk. He nodded a couple times and let out a long, exaggerated, "Hmm..." What a ham.

Honestly, though, I wish I'd had more time to admire him as he took his position. The way he stood, forelegs spread out and eyes furrowed in concentration made him look so confident. He was flexing his muscles without realizing it, and my eyes quickly scanned the length of his toned body, from the solid shoulders to those rippling back legs. The real beauty, though, was how quickly, how naturally he took his stance, like he'd done it a million times and like he knew he couldn't fail. I realized that if he'd had wings, he could have been a 'Bolt, and while I was taking him all in, I forgot to breathe. I wanted to see him let loose with all that power, to see him perfectly execute that one fluid motion that would show me once and for all what he really was meant to do in this life.

Then again, he had teased me. I sucked in a sudden, deep breath. He lifted his back legs to buck, and right as I saw his muscles twitch, I shouted as loudly as I could, "DON'T SCREW UP I'M JUDGING YOU!!!"

"What!?" His head whipped toward me, wide-eyed shock on his face, but it was way too late. His hooves rocketed back into the tree, and they missed their mark. Instead of delivering a solid blow to the trunk, he practically bounced off of it and landed face-down, ass-up in the dirt. I barely heard the muffled, "Dammit."

My leg suddenly felt much, much better. I stood up, puffed out my chest, and brushed myself off. "Oh, so thaaaaaat's how you do it."

Braeburn peeked up at me from under his hat, cheeks blushing a deep red. He muttered, "Asshole," but he said it with a smile.

"Eh, gotta get points where I can." I walked over, reached out a hoof, and helped him up. Braeburn stood, giving me a sideways glance. He lifted one back leg and gave the tree a small, swift kick, just a little more than a tap. I couldn't figure out what he was doing, but then it hit me. "Ow!" An apple bounced off my head and landed with a soft thud at the base of the tree.

"I'll do the bucking. You get the stragglers. Truce?"

"Truce." And that was that. Braeburn would buck a tree, most of the apples would fall out, and I'd fly around picking the rest. No way was I going to wear that stupid harness all day.

Flying around from tree to tree doing the same thing over and over again should have been boring, worse than endurance training, but... I didn't mind. I got to watch Braeburn work, that gorgeous body of his beading with sweat as he delivered perfect, solid kicks, one after another at each new tree, and I kept thinking about how good he looked with his legs up in the air. Honestly, I had to duck behind a tree a few times when I got too excited.

Can you blame me, though? Here was a stallion that had been on my mind for over a week. He was right there! I could hear him, I could smell him, and I was really, really excited.

As much as the dirty thoughts weighed on my mind, though, time passed pretty quickly. This calm aura hung around him, just like with Big Mac. I wondered if it ran in the family or if it was just an earth pony thing, but he looked at home. The sun crept up into the sky, then began falling again, and even though we only stopped for a few water breaks, his muscles always looked relaxed, like they weren't under any strain at all. His breathing never even got faster, just a little heavier.

My breathing matched his. I stayed in the air as much as I could – it's easier to stay airborne than to keep landing and taking off – but I was getting tired. Braeburn didn't ever show signs of slowing, though. He'd stop every dozen trees or so and ask if I was alright, and I'd just give him one-word answers, usually after a pause to appreciate his face.

We just kinda kept going like that. Deep into the afternoon, the group of stallions came back, sweaty and covered in dirt. Braeburn waved me over to the last few trees, so I just finished up while they talked. By the time I was done, the rest of the group was gone, and I fluttered down to where Braeburn was getting a drink from a water pump. He took one last gulp, and then nodded at me. "That's enough for today. How you feel?" he asked, walking over and sitting down in the shade of a nearby tree.

I took a quick drink, then trotted over and sat down next to him. I assumed he wanted to hear me say how satisfied I felt, but I already felt bad about not mentioning my... employment status earlier, so I told him the truth. "A little tired, but I don't really feel anything."

His cheerful reaction surprised me. "Great, ain't it?"

I stared down at the dirt, letting those words rattle around in my head. He was right: I didn't feel anything, but that meant I didn't feel anxiety or stress or fear or anger. It was gone. All of it. If I had to put a word to it, I felt liberated, like he'd turned some switch somewhere in my brain. I looked up at him and smiled. "It is. Thanks."

"Yeah, it's nice havin’ a project like this." He looked out over the orchard, and his smile melted just a little. "Helps you forget about what ails ya'. The rest of life can be knocking you down, but you can always come out here and get some work done." He had that thousand-mile stare to him. I didn't want to interrupt. "You have some control out here, ya’ know? You get to be the master of your own domain and, most of the time, things are peaceful and you feel free."

I knew I was only getting half the story, but I had a hunch. Part of me thought it was a terrible idea to even bring it up, but talking to Braeburn felt natural. Maybe I'm a hypocrite, but I didn't want him to hide anything. "So what makes you feel trapped?"

He shrugged. "Well, I don't wanna bad-mouth anypony."

"I won't tell."

He sighed and didn't look my way. "It gets lonely, I guess. When you think you've found somepony special, you get all starry-eyed and love-struck and maybe you don't think straight. Even when the relationship starts to sour and you get that nagging feeling in your head, you ignore it until you're walking on eggshells all the time." He blinked a few times, and his voice shook slightly. "But they mean so much to you, and you're afraid of letting go, and you don't know when you'll get another chance, especially being gay around these parts and..." Braeburn paused, let out a small, nervous chuckle, and turned his head to me. "Oh, listen to me goin’ on and on! You're probably hungry." His game face was back on, and I felt a little pang in my heart when I realized he wasn't going to say any more. He reached over to one of the bushels that we'd left out and grabbed a couple apples. With a quick toss, I found one in my hooves.

Yeah, I was hungry. Starving, actually. I bit into the tight flesh of the green apple and sank my teeth into the soft interior. It was full of juice, and some of it ran down my chin. The sour flavor and astringent feeling weren't all that pleasant, but it was just sweet enough to keep me eating.

Braeburn swallowed a bit of his own apple and turned to me. "How is it?"

"Pretty good," I said as I wiped my chin.

His voice took on just a little slyness. "Even better when you don't have to steal it, right?"

It took a second for those words to register, but as soon as they did, I coughed, and apple juice went up my nose. My heart jumped to my throat, and my ears flattened against my head. When I finally looked up, Braeburn was giving me a narrow, sideways glance and a knowing smirk. I let out a weak, "Yeah..."

Braeburn just laughed. His laugh always made me feel better. "Aw, you're fine. Aunt Honeycrisp won't notice, and I figure your work today's payment enough." He tossed me another apple and grabbed a new one for himself.

We didn't speak. I was feeling too hot in my cheeks, and he seemed fine with casually nibbling the apple to the core. Birds chirped nearby, a hot breeze rolled through the trees, and eventually the sound of our crunching died down.

I relaxed. He hadn't chewed me out or even gotten angry about my attempted apple heist. The silence was still getting to me, though. "Were you less lonely?" It came out pretty awkward, I think. Braeburn was quiet and looked over at me. "With Bronze, I mean."

Braeburn's eyes darted around a couple times, and he gave a nervous little laugh. "Th-that's kind of a silly question, ain't it?" He hadn't said yes.

"No." I wasn't really sure of myself, but it felt okay to talk around Braeburn. "I mean, I've been with plenty of ponies, but it never feels..." I looked down at the half-eaten apple in my hooves. "...satisfying, I guess? You stay there because, hey, what else are you going to do? But it's not what you were hoping for."

With a deep breath, Braeburn lay back onto the ground, putting his forehooves behind his head and crossing his hind legs. He stared up into the leaves of the tree for a while before he responded. "You're smarter than you seem, Soarin'." I think it was a compliment. "Yeah, you're right, I think. It was nice having somepony that understood bein’ gay in Appleloosa, even if he wasn't really a country colt. And he doesn't take guff from anypony – whenever anypony tried to give us a hard time, he jumped right in and stood up for me. For us. He's a good stallion that way, but you're right. It's easy to get..." He trailed off.

"Trapped?" I lay down on my side next to him.

"Yeah. I shouldn't complain. Nopony's perfect. You gotta take the good with the bad, I guess, even if you'd like a few things to be different." He reached down and absentmindedly pawed at his cutie mark.

I enjoyed watching him trace his muscles like that. 'Those legs... I could stare at them forever, and it looks like that bruise has healed since la–'

My stomach lurched mid-thought, and I shuddered. I thought I was going to throw up or pass out, and I almost didn't say anything. "Uh... Braeburn?"

He looked my way. I think he heard the weirdness in my voice. "Hm?"

"When I met you..." My heart felt knotted up, and my brain was screaming at me that I was about to cross a line, but that's never stopped me. "Well, when did you and Bronze break up?"

Braeburn shrunk away a little, but he didn't take his eyes off of me. "Uh... Just about two or three weeks ago." He hesitated. "W-why?"

"Last week, you had a bruise on your cutie mark." Braeburn's eyes shot wide open, and he quickly turned his head back towards the sky. His chest began rising and falling quickly, but I kept going. "Where did you get it?"

I already knew.

Braeburn's whole body stiffened up. "Ain't a big deal. Really. Don't mind it. Heh heh." He was talking so fast. "Things just happen, ya’ know? Heh. Nopony's fault, really. Heck, I'd kinda expect it. Two guys in a relationship? Things are just different. Lots of testosterone, right? Things get heated."

He kept rationalizing, and I felt my heart tear in half.

"And hey, we all lose our temper sometimes, every one of us. You get angry and things just happen." He started gesturing wildly in front of himself, like he was trying to shake away a memory. "Heck, I yelled, too. Bronze had every right to get mad. He was right. I wasn't supporting him enough, and it didn't hurt that much. I should have just let him go. My fault, really. I deserved it."

"Woah!" Those last few words fired off a million alarms in my head. I jumped into the air and hovered over Braeburn, who reached up to his hat and pulled it over his face. I don't know what I expected, but my brain was infull-on tailspin-levels of panic. "No! No. Nooooooo no no no." I flailed my forelegs in front of me and said it every way I could. "No!" I lifted a hoof to his hat and knocked it away, forcing him to look at me. "Dude, just... no. What the hell did he do to you?"

Braeburn turned his head and half-lidded his eyes, a deep frown crossing his face. His voice was small and weak. "It was just a kick."

"Just a..." My thoughts went in a million different directions. 'Just a kick? Does he think that isn't serious? How much worse did he go through? Was he just trying to dodge the question? How long has it been going on?' I landed next to Braeburn and gazed at nothing. "...Wow."

It was quiet. It was disgustingly quiet. It was like my whole thought process was on the fritz, and nothing came to me for a painfully long time. Braeburn didn't say anything, I didn't say anything, and it was quiet.

The silence ate away at me, and I eventually shook my head around, trying to dislodge something – anything – that would fix everything. I should have been gentle, but my breathing was heavy, and my blood was boiling at the thought of some abusive monster hurting him. I couldn't control myself. "No, Braeburn! Nopony deserves to get hit." I looked directly at him. "Don't you ever say that again!" I heard my voice bounce around the trees for a few seconds.

Braeburn took a few shaky breaths, looking everywhere but at me. "Okay," he whimpered.

And then I felt like an ass. Of course I would have phrased it the worst possible way: like a threat. Of course I let my anger get the best of me. I apologized as quickly as I could. "Sorry, sorry! Ugh, I didn't mean to yell." I closed my eyes, leaned forward, and rubbed my forehead, just to make sure I was in real life. "That's just, like, wow. That's super messed up, Braeburn."

"Sorry..."

I sighed. "You don't... have to apologize." I should have said more. I wish I could go back and reassure him, let him know that he deserved to feel safe and comfortable and loved. That he didn't have to put on the brave face, and even if everypony was talking, the most important thing was that he was okay. If I'd known how to say it all then... but the words didn't come to me. I hung my head. "Sorry."

Braeburn just kept staring up through the leaves.

I flopped down next to him, and for a while, we didn't say anything. Flickers of light danced above me through the leaves, hypnotic, almost, and I found myself trying to picture being in that kind of relationship. I couldn't do it. Sure, I'd had more than my share of crazy exes like Sapph, but things never got too physical. The worst had been that glass she'd thrown at me in her hotel room, but nopony had ever hit me more than a slap across the face.

I could totally picture Braeburn there, though. 'He's been so gentle, even when he knew I was trying to steal from him.' I chewed on my inside of my cheek as I looked over at him, still on his back, transfixed by something I couldn't see. 'It would be so easy to take advantage of him.' Of course, the whole scene back at Honeycrisp's farm played through my head again. 'Oh, yeah. Neeeever gonna get tired of thinking about that.'

What bothered me most, though, was how normal he'd tried to make it sound. Two guys in a relationship? Testosterone? Ugh. I thought about what must have happened, how somepony could have possibly convinced him that he'd been in a normal relationship. It made me quiver.

My whole body felt heavier the more I watched him. His head was shaking, back and forth, and he had a look on his face. I knew that look. It's the one you wear when you can't stop thinking about something over and over again. He was lost, and it made me feel lost, too. How the heck was I supposed to do anything? I was just a stupid athlete that never had to deal with any real problems.

His eyes looked tired, and for lack of anything better to say, I just casually told him, "You need a nap."

His head stopped shaking, and he paused for a second before rolling over to look at me with a pouty face and a raised eyebrow. "What?"

"A nap." For some reason, I was convinced it would solve all of his problems. I wanted him to be happy again. I wanted him to stop thinking about whatever he was thinking about, so I smiled at him. "C'moooooon. It'll make you feel better."

His voice was flat. "Soarin', it's the middle of the day."

"Easy fix." I reached over, grabbed his hat from the ground, and stuck it on his face so that the brim covered his eyes. "There you go. Good as night!"

Braeburn sat halfway up and put his hat back on top of his head. He wasn't frowning anymore. "I'm not gonna nap, Soarin'. I'm not tired." He was looking at me, so I held my hoof up to my mouth and pantomimed a yawn. "Besides, there's still plenty to dooooOOAAAaaahhh. Dammit!" He grinned just the slightest bit. Got him. "Cheater."

I waved a hoof back towards town. "Oh, c'mon. You already sent everypony home, and you said yourself we've done enough for the day. What's it matter?"

"Always work to do, Soarin'." He was grasping for excuses, I think. Excuses to stay mopey. Why do we always do that to ourselves?

I stretched out my forelegs and groaned. "You can work when you're dead."

He chuckled. "It's 'sleep when you're dead,' ya' idiot."

I scratched my chin. "Hmm... No, that doesn't make sense. You must be delusional. Probably sleep deprivation."

He shook his head, and I saw a smile. "You're crazy."

"Crazy, but well-rested." I patted the grass next to me, trying to signal that I was more than willing to sleep with him. Next to him. Well, both. "Or do you want me to leave?"

Braeburn snapped to attention. "What? No! I mean, it was a shock to see you here at first, but, ya’ know, I'd like to give it another..." His cheeks went pink, and his voice lowered again. "You meant leave for the day, didn't ya’?"

I smirked. "Eeeeeeyup."

He blushed harder and fell onto his back, pulling his hat over his face again.

I rolled onto my hooves. "I'll take that as a yes. Same time tomorrow morning?"

Braeburn kept a hoof on his hat, probably to make sure I couldn't take it off of him again. "Sure." It came out muffled, but it sounded happier, like the real Braeburn.

I leaned my head over him. "You gonna take a nap?"

"Not with you talkin' my ear off, I won't."

"Okay," I whispered in a baby voice. "Good niiiiight." I puckered my lips and blew him a kiss that I thought was inaudible.

Without looking, Braeburn brought a hoof up and tapped me on the nose. "I heard that. Mind your lips, lover colt." He crossed his forelegs and didn't say anything else.

I stood there for a few seconds, watching his chest rise and fall. He looked peaceful. My own chest still felt tight as I thought about somepony treating him badly, and I was still super worried about him. But I didn't want to press him. I didn't want to pick at fresh scars, and I knew I'd just say something stupid if I tried to help, so I turned and left.

As I walked out of the trees and back towards the town, my heart didn't feel so heavy anymore. I was surprised how low the sun was getting. A thought crossed my mind about leaving the 'Bolts behind to settle in Appleloosa, just so I could have more days like that one. And I thought about Braeburn.

I quietly laughed at myself. He was totally right. We'd put in time and effort that day, and it felt like we'd started building something great.

Chapter 17 - Mayor Braeburn

The sun ducked behind a faraway rock spire as I entered town. I wasn't in the mood to explore anything on my own. Kinda defeats the purpose of a tour without a tour guide, right? I wanted Braeburn to show me around. I wanted him to walk with me through the streets and show me all the cool places and not worry about what everypony would say. I wanted him to be okay, and damn it, for once I was willing to wait.

That left me without anything to do, though. A few ponies still wandered in and out of creaky doors, but most of them sauntered towards the edges of town where all the houses were. The heat of the day had died down, and everything was settling. There's always one thing to do in a small place like Appleloosa, though.

I've been to a lot of bars, and each one's got its own character. Wanna dance in a club and score with a hottie? Cloudsdale's your place. Wanna get blitzed and bar-hop all night? Can't beat Las Pegasus. If you want a place with a lot more charm than flash, though, you need to find the best bar in a small town, the one all the locals go to.

The Salt Block had rural charm in spades: dim light, the musty smell of smoke, and a pony in the corner playing music on a piano that needed tuning. The walls were wood-paneled near the floor, with rich orange paint above and hoof-carved trim in simple patterns. It was homey, but I did a double-take when I noticed how up-to-date a few things looked – fancy metal bar stools, state-of-the-art tap, and a few pieces of weird art on the walls. The place was packed, too, like every stallion in town was there. Some of the mares, too, and I had to strain to hear anything over all the conversations. Money always flows to the bars.

The waitress at the front was a white mare with a blue mane. She had a soft, sweet voice, the kind you wouldn't expect to find in a place like that. "Good evening, sir! Come in for a drink, or can we get you some grub?"

I peeked past her when a grey earth pony waved me over. Squinting through the dim light, I saw three stallions sitting at one of the tables near the middle of the floor: a grey one, a blue one, and a green one. 'Oh, hey!' I thought. 'Slate, Pridesong, aaaaaand.... green one.' I turned back to the waitress and pointed a hoof. "Nah. I'm with them."

As I trotted over, I saw Pridesong lean in and say something to the other two. Slate scowled for a second and then said something back. Pridesong didn't respond. He pushed his half-empty glass of beer away, stood up, and left in a huff. He gave me a wide berth and went the long way around the tables, bumping past a few other patrons and shooting me a snarl.

I made it to the table and nodded at the remaining ponies. "Uh, hi! So..." I jerked my head back towards Pridesong. "What's his problem?"

Slate leaned back in his chair. His low voice spilled over the edge of his beer glass. "Trouble breathing, I think."

I cocked my head to the side. "Like, allergies?"

"Naw. Head's just too far up is own ass."

I chuckled to myself as Slate downed the rest of his beer and set the glass on the table. He gestured to the now vacant chair. "Seat's open, though."

I took the invitation. "Thanks."

Slate nodded back to me. "Pleasure to have you, but I don't think I caught your name yesterday." He scratched his chin. "Heard it's Soarin', though, yep?"

Fame happens. "Yeah. Slate, right?"

He started to respond, but the green pony with the white mane and high-pitched voice cut him off. "Nice to meet you. I'm Grassy Ridge. Say, Soarin', I don't mean to pry, but what do you do for a living?" Ridge leaned in on one foreleg. They always do that when they recognize you.

"Heh. I'm a Wonderbolt."

"Hoo!" Ridge smiled and nudged Slate. "Told ya'! Next round's on you, big guy."

Slate grimaced and bounced his head a couple times, staring at me. "Yeah, yeah. Okay. I got it." His whistle was super loud, loud enough to pierce through the crowd and reach the bartender, a lanky stallion with a thick black moustache. Slate made a little circle in the air with his hoof. "So, how you findin' Appleloosa, Soarin'?" I liked the way he talked. It had that country twang, but it was low and calm and reminded me of my dad.

"Good. It's nice." Nothing else came to me. I realized I didn't have an opinion – I'd been chasing Braeburn the whole time I'd been there. "Honestly, I haven't seen much of it yet. Braeburn made me work in the orchard today."

Slate smiled. "Yeah. Hard worker, that one. I admire his spirit."

A warm feeling spread through my chest. "There's a lot to admire. He's kind, he's a great cook, and I loved staring at that sweet–"

"Careful."

"What?" He didn't seem like the type to interrupt, but I understood when the waitress appeared from behind me. She set three beers on the table before she took the other glasses away.

Slate took a cigar out of his saddle bag and tapped it on the table. "You're a city pony, right? Never lived in a small town?" He dug out a lighter, lit up, and took a long drag. As I nodded, and he tilted his head back to blow a ring of smoke up into the air. I caught a whiff of it. It was sweet. "Well, be careful. Don't say anything you wouldn't want repeated by everypony in town." He sucked on the cigar again. "Because it will be." Smoke billowed out of each of his nostrils. "Ponies 'round these parts ain't got much to talk about 'cept each other.”

I blew some air out of my lips. "Psh. Whatever. I'm used to it."

"Maybe you don't mind." He took another short puff and knocked the ash off onto a wet napkin. "But I figure somepony you care about does."

Ridge stayed quiet and nursed his drink, but I could feel his eyes on me whenever I looked back at Slate.

"Oh." I looked down. It seemed like Slate didn't appreciate the gossip. "I... guess I shouldn't ask you about him, then."

"Now, I didn't say I was tight-lipped. I'm a sinner, just the same as everypony else." At least he was honest. He gave a quick look around to some of the other tables – probably looking for eavesdroppers – and leaned in. "What do you wanna know?"

'Does he know what an abusive asshole Bronze was?' I wondered. "So, when I saw Braeburn last wee–"

"You mindin' your mouth?"

I hadn't been. I paused and thought about how to phase it. I needed something that would keep me in the clear. "What was Bronze like? Why'd he and Braeburn split?"

That got Ridge to speak up. "Ah, scopin' the competition, eh?"

Slate paused for a second. "Well, he seemed polite enough. Little rough around the edges. Bit of a hothead, maybe. As for why they split up, well..." Slate gulped down a few drinks of his beer. "Word is they had a fight. Don't know about what."

"Did they–" I stopped to double-check that I wasn't saying anything stupid. "Did they fight very much?"

"Don't rightly know. Seldom saw them out together. Kinda strange for a couple, but I suppose Braeburn's always been a private pony."

"Why?"

Slate sighed. "Idiots like Pridesong, I reckon." He took one last drag, then stamped out his cigar and put the unused part away. "Might be a better question for Braeburn, though. Now, sorry to dash, but the wife'll be on my ass if I'm late for dinner again. Nice seeing you, Soarin'. Let me know if you need anything." He stacked a small pile of bits on the table, and with a tip of his hat, he left with Ridge close behind.

I sat at the table for another half-hour or so, sipping my beer and going over everything I could keep track of. 'Poor Brae. He said Bronze stood up for him, so what was he afraid of? Is he really that private?' My breathing picked up, and my jaw tightened. I felt a scowl on my face. 'Or did Bronze keep him inside to hide the bruises?' I heard a rattling and looked down. My hoof was shaking and knocking against the glass. My neck felt hot, and my wings itched to start flapping, take off into the sky, find that dirt bag and give him a hard hoof to the face.

But then I thought about Braeburn, and my heart sank. As angry as I was at Bronze, thinking about the two of them fighting left me feeling helpless, paralyzed at how much Braeburn must have gone through alone.

Alone.

The piano played a slow, melancholy tune, and I swirled the beer around my glass. It left foam clinging to the side, sinking back down into the umber liquid. I looked down into the glass, and as my beer settled, a rippling reflection came into view. A dejected face stared back, his blue coat tinted a shiny brown by the beer. "Heh. At least he's got you."

The corners of my reflection's mouth turned up. 'Yeah. Yeah! He's got me! He doesn't have to be alone anymore.' My back straightened out, and I nodded to myself. 'Neither of us do.' I tipped back the glass and gulped down the rest of my beer. After I'd finished, I leaned back in my chair, stuck my forehooves behind my head, and stared at the ceiling as Holli's advice came back to me. 'Yeah. Some ponies are worth chasing after.'

I daydreamed about everything that a second chance could mean. Braeburn had already given me so much – somepony to talk to that I felt comfortable around, something to look forward to, and a way to stop thinking about all the issuess with the Wonderbolts. Those problems seemed so far away. Braeburn was real, though. He was nearby, and we were building something.

Of course, conversations weren't the only things to look forward to. I kept imagining Braeburn’s body up against mine, and it wasn't just the beer that was making my face red. I wanted him. I wanted him bad. I spent a few minutes mentally going over every inch of him, from his hooves to those soft ears, filling in the gaps where I needed to. I wanted it all.

More ponies started filing in, and I caught a glimpse of the frazzled waitress counting tables. Slate hadn't said whether he'd paid for my beer, too, but I wasn't going to take any chances. I threw a few more bits onto the table and left.

After that, I meandered back to the hotel. It was still early, so I tried to find something to distract myself in the empty lobby. A big page-a-day calendar told me it was Thursday. Crazy how you can forget something like that, right? I sighed a little thinking about the team back home, about how they'd gotten an easy training day for the show tomorrow and about how Fire Streak was going to have his big debut.

"Streak." I looked over at the empty table in the corner. "New Number One." I smiled and shook my head, and suddenly there was this urge to write a letter. Came outta nowhere. I got some paper and a quill from the front desk, sat down to write, and stared at the page for, like, forty minutes. Writing's tough. I don't know how you do it. There seemed like a lot to say, but nothing I could come up with sounded sincere or insightful or anything. The letter wasn't even going to reach him before the show, anyway. In the end, I settled on the one thought I came back to over and over again:

Streak,

I don't even need to wait for the papers. I know you killed it. Great flying, Number One.

~Soarin'

It felt right.

I bought an envelope and a stamp and sealed up the letter before I drew the... I drew a picture on it. No, you don't get to know what it was. Sorry, dude, but Streak would toast my ass if I let it slip.

After dropping the envelope in the mail slot, I went up to my room. I tried to read more of the book Braeburn had lent me, but I just ended up starting at the page, thinking about him trying to keep everything close to the chest. Eventually, I gave up and flopped onto my back to watch the ceiling and try thinking happy thoughts. It worked. A little. My body was tired enough from the day's labor to pass out early, and I fell asleep wondering if Braeburn liked being on the right or the left side of the bed.

* * * * *

Soarin' takes a big bite of his sandwich. He's barely had enough time to eat with the story going on, but he looks down at my plate. He swallows and gives me a wink. "Told you this place was great."

My stomach is warm and full, and there are barely any crumbs left on my plate. I look up at him. "You certainly have good taste." The sandwich was pleasant and the caffeine from my Dirty Chai poisons my blood in the best way possible, and my mind feels sharp despite the grogginess that usually follows a meal like this. Idle chatter from the other three tables in the tiny café fills the room, and even though we're all cramped together, a refreshing blanket of anonymity shields us from anypony bothering us. I've seen a few ears swivel towards our table, but nopony appears to be eavedropping.

That's for the best, of course. Without my notepad, the tingle at the back of my skull that tells me to notice every intricate detail burns more than ever, though I wonder how good my notes would really be at this point. I'd felt physically ill when Soarin' described Braeburn's history with Bronze. Maybe I should be grateful I didn't have to transcribe it.

Soarin' takes a swig of his coffee. "Of course I have good taste. I literally fell for Braeburn, didn't I?"

* * * * *

I woke up early the next day, and the scene was pretty much the same. I got up, made sure I still had my key, and left my room. I took a quick shower – too quick to get all the dust from the previous day out of my feathers – and was out the front door of the hotel even faster than the day before. I didn't bother with wake-up laps – my nerves burned, and I could feel Braeburn waiting for me. As I glided to his door, I saw a bright yellow face peering out of the first-story window.

I didn't even have to knock. The door swung open right as I stepped up. "Mornin'! Didn't think you could wake up this early."

It took all of four seconds for me to want close to me. "Well, I can go back to sleep if you want." I stepped inside, brushed past him, and took half a second to check out his flank. 'You know. In your bed. With you. Right now.'

"Aw, no need for that. I've got a pot of coffee on if you like. Afraid I'm a little red-eyed myself." He stepped next to me and nudged me with his shoulder. Just that brief moment of contact almost made my knees buckle like a schoolyard filly. "See, some loony convinced me to sleep away the afternoon yesterday. Left me tossing all night, and I couldn't get my thoughts to settle."

We walked side-by-side into his house. I put on my best 'concerned big brother' voice. "That guy sounds like a nut job. You should stay away from him. Heh. Can you imagine if he ever got into your house?" I nudged him back as we stopped in the kitchen. "So, what was on your mind all night?"

Braeburn paused and slowly turned to look at me. His eyes locked onto mine, and his head was as solid as a rock while a smile spread across his face. For a second, the only sound in the world was our breathing. "I'll get you some coffee."

He got fresh mugs for both of us, and we settled onto a small couch in his living room.

And I melted. I don't mean, like, I went all gaga or anything, but... Huh. I don't know. It's like I was part of the scenery, like I flowed with all the positive energy in that place. There wasn't any separation between me and everything in Braeburn's house, including Braeburn. It was natural. I belonged there. Any leftover bad feelings had vanished, and in their place, there was this warmth, this thing that felt like home. A real home. Not even close to my cold, lonely condo. Braeburn had drawn me into his house, made me a part of it, and he'd done it all without me even realizing it. Yeah. Melted.

We talked about "Whitewing's Big Score" and swapped stories about work or the Wonderbolts' tours, and the conversation had this fluidness to it. He'd shift his weight, and I'd adjust myself, too, scooting just a little bit closer, just enough that his scent would catch my nose for a moment and make me shiver. He'd sip his coffee from the oversized mug when I told him about the best clubs in Cloudsdale, and I'd get lost in his eyes while he rambled on about camping out in the desert.

We talked until our stomachs rumbled and our coffee went cold. Braeburn had something easier for me to cook that day, "for real this time." Even I can cut up an apple into same-ish size cubes.

Braeburn made grits with fruit and spices, and I probably don't have to tell you it was freaking amazing! It was creamy and tasted like heaven. It slid down my throat, warm and sticky and salty and filling. I couldn't get enough, and it was even better knowing it came from him. I wanted him to keep feeding me more. I would have sucked it up all day.

What's so funny?

Anyway, we cleaned up, and I finally got impatient enough. If I was anxious, though, you couldn't hear it in my voice. I sounded bouncy, actually. Weird. "So, what are we doing today? More chores?" I wouldn't even have minded.

"Nah, I'd hate to put you out too much. Besides, I gotta get some paperwork done." He looked up at me suddenly, biting his lower lip. "Oh! I hope that's not too boring for you."

"Can we talk while you work?"

He hesitated. "S-sure!"

"Then I'll be fine."

One cowpony hat later and we were out the door. Braeburn led the way into the daylight, and I used my wings to shield my face from the sun. My wings had dried from my shower, and as we walked, more dust got in between my feathers. They itched like hell, like there were a million little bugs crawling around, but I did a decent job of ignoring the feeling.

We didn't turn down Mane Street. Instead, we walked behind the train station and crossed the tracks on the far side. Appleloosa's main road goes through the center of town, but we went down the side road behind all the major buildings. The third one on the left was a small green building, and Braeburn picked up the pace as we approached it.

Braeburn took a key out of his breast pocket and unlocked the door. We walked into a small, cramped room decorated with fake plants and pictures all over the walls. Family portraits, mostly. Almost all of them featured the same mare and two little fillies, and some had a mustachioed pony that I almost recognized. A desk sat in the middle of the room with barely enough space to walk around on either side. Two wooden stools leaned against the wall on the opposite side of the room. Braeburn spoke up as I squeezed around from behind the desk. "This is Sheriff Silverstar's office. Must be out patrolling or something. C'mon. I'll show you my desk."

I didn't hear him at first. I was busy noticing how none of the photos on the desk were turned down or away. Must have been nice. I shook my head and came back to my senses. "Wait. You're a cop?" I imagined him in the blue uniform, swinging some cuffs around and talking to me about having to use his nightstick. My chest rumbled and my brain swam with approval.

"Ha! Naw, we just have the sheriff, and even he complains about not having anything to do. The desk's actually public, but, well, I'm the only pony that ever seems to use it."

We stepped through another door at the opposite side of the room into a much more open space. This room seemed huge. The ceiling was higher, and it was mostly barren. Benches lined one wall, big double doors with a bell on top were across from us, and the right side of the room was made up of three empty cells with shiny metal bars. They look like they'd never been used.

Braeburn stepped over to a small, simple desk with a few drawers and a hoof-made chair behind it. "So, uh, this is it!" He gave me a grimace that quickly vanished. "Sorry. There's really not much to see. We don't need to be here long, hopefully." He sat down, took out another, smaller key, and unlocked one of the drawers. He pulled out a sealed letter, glanced at the sender's address, and set it on the desk. Decided it wasn't urgent, I guess? After that, he fished some paper and ink out of another drawer and started writing.

The scratching of his quill filled the room, but I felt kinda awkward just standing there. Plus, my wings still itched, but I didn't want to just sit there preening myself if he wanted to talk or something. After a minute, though, he hadn't looked up from his paper. I don't know if he'd even blinked.

I was already bored. I hopped into the air and hovered behind him, sneaking a peek at the letter he was writing. My wings itched more with every flap, but I had an excuse to be really, really close to him, and I was gonna take it.

The first thing that struck me was how beautiful his hoofwriting was. It was made of fancy, loopy letters that all connected, and none of them looked out of place or messy. It wasn't anything like the letter he'd written Big Mac. If I wasn't such a dolt, I probably could have figured out why the one to Big Mac was so sloppy.

I am, though, so I just kept staring. "Hey!" I shouted, probably too close to his ear. I stuck my head over his shoulder to get a better look at the first line. "To His Excellency Minister Long Reign? What!?" Braeburn winced a little, so I strafed sideways a few beats. "Sorry. But seriously, what are you doing writing a letter to one of Celestia's higher-ups?"

Braeburn gave me a blank stare. I swear, that pony had the weirdest ideas about what was normal. "Oh, he probably won't read it," he said casually. "One of his aides usually responds. I've just got to give him my monthly report, at least until we're completely self-sufficient and I've figured out how to classify our economy. Probably agricultural with some trading potential. Hoping to open up a few routes with the southern nations down the line."

My head was cranked to the side, and it felt like he'd just rattled off a giant math problem that I had no hope of solving. "What? Why? ...What?"

He snickered. "Well, Appleloosa gets funding from the capital, things like farm grants and such. Heh heh. Can't start up a new settlement without bits, right? It's not like the hospitals or houses were already built when we got here. We needed some startup, so I wrote a letter to the Ministry of Agriculture."

"Wait." Wide-eyed, I slowly hovered around to the front of his desk, landed, and stared. "You wrote a letter to Celestia's guys asking for a boatload of money."

Braeburn nodded. "Uh-huh"

I pointed a hoof and raised an eyebrow. "You did. You. Braeburn."

"Uh-huh."

"And they said yes? They just hoofed over as much as you wanted?"

Braeburn shrugged. "Pretty much."

I sucked in a deep breath. "And now you're responsible for the livelihoods of an entire town full of earth ponies that depend on you – you – to keep the money rolling in so they can build up a new settlement in a faraway corner of the country that's been uninhabited by ponykind for generations?"

He blushed, smiled, and turned his head to look away. "Well, I–"

"Dude!" I jumped up and hovered close to his face, grinning from ear to ear. "You're the mayor!"

He shrunk back in his chair like somepony was tickling him. "Oh, you stop that. I'm not."

"Yes you are!" I reached out and lifted up his hat a little, just enough for him to notice and turn my way. "You run the town, you're charismatic, and you care about everypony that lives here. Dude, you're totally the mayor! We need to get you a sash or something."

He laughed and batted my hoof away. "Soarin', mayors get elected."

I rolled my eyes and blew a raspberry. "Okay, tyrant then. Whatever. Point is, you've got power! That's awesome!" Sexy, too. I thought to myself, 'Yeah, gotta get him a sash to wear to bed sometime.' I dropped back onto the ground and gestured around with a hoof. "You can do, like, whatever you want with a whole town!"

Braeburn's chest puffed up, and his head tilted back a little. His voice even got a little deeper. Really mayor-like if you ask me. "Well, it's not quite that simple."

I couldn't stop smiling. "Liar."

"It's true!" He paused, and the smile on his face faded a bit. Just a little, though. "For one, it's a lot of pressure." He leaned back in his seat and looked up at the ceiling. "A lot of ponies count on that money, Soarin', and not all of them approve of the way it's being allocated. Most of them certainly didn't like the builder's quarters gettin’ converted to a hotel, and there were more than a few ponies grumblin’ about the town hall renovations, but we needed to make progress, and enough townsponies finally saw what was sensible." He took off his hat and fanned himself. "We have to keep the economy going, and that ain't easy with the scarce resources we have out there, so I figured, hey, why not commoditize the greatest thing about this place: the town itself?"

He was talking as fast as I'd ever heard him. "Tourism's a big industry elsewhere, after all, and a lot of ponies just want to get away every once in a while. Brings a lot of cash in that wouldn't otherwise flow this direction. We need that stimulation, though, since a lot of the ponies that settle here are elderly, looking for a quiet place to spend their remainin’ years, and I can't much ask them to labor, can I?"

He put his hat back on and crossed his forehooves, tilitng the chair back on its back legs and still looking upward. I got the feeling he wasn't really talking to me anymore. "So we gotta find other sources of income, but a lot of the locals don't appreciate the city slickers comin’ in every weekend. Sure, means more ponies for the dances that we have every Saturday night and a big boon to all our shops, but I think they feel like I'm violatin’ the spirit of the settlement if I'm opening it up to any city yahoo that wants to live on the range for a few days. Can't say I blame 'em, but then I'm stuck in this spot where I'm meddlin' with their way of life, but then again they wouldn't be able to live their life this way at all if I didn't try to monetize a few things. They get angry at me over my policies, and it certainly doesn't help to have a colt-cuddler callin' a lot of the shots, but then again, nopony else ever steps up to take responsibility, so that's their tacit consent that I'm doing a decent enough job, I guess?"

Braeburn let his chair fall back forward with a loud thud. He looked over to me. His eyes widened, and a hoof shot to his mouth. "Aw, heck. I did it again, didn't I? I'm... I'm sorry for talking you half to death. My mouth tends to run off with the rest of me, and–"

I held up a hoof to stop him. He didn't look away from me.

And I couldn't look away from him. "Dude." It felt like a colt all over again, where the grown-ups had to explain everything to me and half of it shot over my head, but I knew it was all important. "Remind me to never complain about anything ever again."

"S-sorry."

"Sorry? Braeburn, why are you sorry?" The conversation pivoted. It was like I was back at the academy, giving one of my fliers a pep talk after a failed stunt. I liked it. "You've got tons of responsibility, and you're doing a hell of a job with it."

Braeburn liked it, too. His chest inflated again, and the worried look on his face stretched into a wide grin of pride. "Well, I do what I can," he said simply.

"Yeah." I was curious about how such a small town afforded a tyrant-mayor as amazing as him. Some ponies think it's rude to ask how much another pony earns. Screw 'em. "So, what do you make doing mayor stuff?"

"Oh. I, uh..." He fidgeted with a quill and looked up and to the side, and his face scrunched up. He started talking fast again. "T-the town ain't got much money for somepony that ain't even really an official. Besides, I'm happy to do it! Really! Always gotta have more projects, heh heh." His laugh was shaky.

My mane practically stood on end. "You put up with all their crap for free!?" I felt even smaller. You know who can't even imagine doing all that work for no pay? You're looking at him. "Braeburn, you're either crazy or the most kind-hearted pony I've ever met. And I'm pretty sure it's the latter."

Braeburn tilted his head down to hide under his hat, but I could see him smile. "I should really get goin’ on this letter."

Everypony always talks about cute things being small and delicate, and in a way, maybe that was the case with Braeburn. Not on the outside, though. He was built like an earth pony should be, solid and durable, but he pulled off cute none the less.

I took half a step forward. I think I wanted to make out with him, right then and there, but I caught myself. 'The faster he finishes, the more time we'll have.' I could give him time. Do you know how weird that is for me? Letting somepony take their time and me just sitting there waiting for them? "Take your time." I looked over to my right. The bench was big enough for me to lie down on, so I did just that.

Braeburn focused again. His eyes squinted and he sucked in his lower lip just a little. He hunched over, dipping the quill in the ink every time it went dry. His hoof movements were quick and precise, and he even seemed like he was breathing in time with the words.

After a few minutes of watching him, my wing flapped involuntarily. I didn't think anything of it, but then it happened again. And again. And then I noticed and tried to keep it still, but it felt fidgety, and I finally realized that it was getting sooooo itchy again. Itchy I could deal with. Horny I could deal with. Both? No way. I had to take care of one of them, and I figured one would land me on the opposite side of those jail bars. "Uh, Braeburn?"

He finished his sentence and looked up with a blank expression. "Hm? Oh, I'm almost done with this one, then just a few more."

"No, no. It's not that." I almost didn't want to ask. "Would you mind if I preened myself while you write? Like, that wouldn't be too distracting, right?"

I was ready to explain to him what preening was, about how pegasi need to keep their wings clean and straight to fly at maximum efficiency. I expected him to be a little put off when I talked about how I'd need to spit a bunch of dust on the floor and clean it up later.

Braeburn never ran out of surprises. "Oh. No worries." He went back to his work.

The room grew quiet again except for the scratching of the quill. I shrugged and lay down on the floor.

You're supposed to preen every day, and they always gave us time at the academy, but, you know, it gets really excessive. It totally makes a differences, though, when your feathers get messed up. Flying gets bogged down, like somepony's tied weights to each of your wings, and the itchiness gets super distracting, too.

I started by wrapping my left wing around my head and craning my neck back as far as it would go. There are always those fluffier feathers at the base that nopony can ever seem to reach, but you learn to live with it. Instead, I started about a quarter of the way up my wing. I took a feather into my teeth at the base and gently raked it, wrapping my lips around the whole thing and getting some of the dirt out. Usually, you need a few passes on each feather. After that, I did it again on the next feather. Then the next. And the next. And the next. You can see why it gets tedious, right? I only ever stopped when the grit in my teeth and lips made an audible grinding noise and I tasted salt.

If you've never seen a pegasus spit dirt and feathers, I'm told it's hilarious how our lips and tongues flap all around and our faces contort while we make that "Pleh!" sound, but for us it's just grating.

After about twenty minutes, I'd gotten my left wing done, or at least the easy-to-reach parts. The fluffy feathers still itched, though, so I wanted to give it another shot. Naturally, that's where most of the dust collects, right near the joint. Stretching my neck, I felt a sharp pain and a spasm, and I whipped my head back forward. "Buck!" I rubbed my neck with a hoof as my eyes watered, and when I realized I'd yelled, I looked up to see Braeburn. "Sorry! Not being distracting!"

He didn't move. Actually, it looked like he hadn't moved in a long time. He had a goofy grin on his face, and his quill was on the table. After taking a sharp breath, he looked down at the floor. "You, uh..." There was a pause, but he looked up again, and I could see brightness in his eyes. "You want some help?"

My ears buzzed. My face felt hot, and every hair on my body stood up. Culture-shock, I guess. 'Doesn't he know how intimate that is?' See, preening's usually a personal thing. Heck, most ponies I know hardly even preen their spouses, let alone a friend. It takes tons of trust, since one bad screw-up can keep you grounded for weeks. I hadn't had somepony help me since puberty. Dad had offered a few times as I grew up, but kids always want... They don't want their parents to...

...

Braeburn was waiting for an answer. My thoughts raced with possibilities, and my pulse spiked. I wanted to feel his body against mine. "Sure!" Braeburn once told me I'd sounded like a yappy dog.

With a smile, a lot of quick movements, and a small stumble, Braeburn pushed his chair back and walked over. My heart pounded, and the room suddenly felt very small. I extended my right wing as he came up behind me, where I couldn't see him. It almost felt like being prey – he was coming up behind me and his mouth was about to be on my back, but not in a creepy way. It was in a really, really good way.

He lay down, threw a leg over my back (which sent little tingles all over my skin) and scooted closer. I thought, 'If I wasn't on my stomach, we'd be spooning. He's basically spooning me. Braeburn is basically spooning me!' I might have squeaked a little, but then my pride spoke up. 'Hey! I wanted to be the big spoon!'

Shaking my head, I figured I should give him some instructions, at least so he didn't pull my feathers out and gimp me. "Okay, fair warning? It's a little gross. You have to–"

His hot breath on my back. That's what started it. Everything in my body shut down: my head lowered, my muscles all relaxed, and my eyes rolled back into my head. My eyes closed and my jaw hung slack. I was completely catatonic as his breath seemed to billow out in every direction and roll across my body.

He moved even closer. His leg nudged mine, and I felt a little squeeze around my back as he got into position. I think I moaned a little. Then, with the gentleness of grass on your hooves, he wrapped his lips and teeth around the small feathers and pulled just slightly. I'd forgotten how many nerves were right there, right at the base of the wing, but my body was quick to remind me as endorphins flooded my system. It was tingly, like my whole body was waking up. He tugged at the feather, and like a puppet's string that ran through all my limbs, my whole body contracted slightly, only to relax again when his mouth let go. My spine tingled again, and a soft moan rumbled out of my chest before dropping from my mouth to the floor. His lips found the next feather, and he pulled again.

It's the best massage you've ever had. It's all the tension releasing from a spring. It's feeling completely vulnerable and completely safe all at once. That's what it's like getting your wings groomed by somepony that cares about you.

He kept pulling and cleaning, even trying to hide it when he had to spit out some dirt. I was trapped and sedated, like I was on the best drug you can imagine, and a fog settled on my mind. I didn't want it to leave – it was so nice inside – but it nagged at me how he was so perfect at something that most earth ponies barely know the first thing about. It didn't take me too long to piece it all together, and when I spoke, my voice was raspy and sleepy-sounding. "Bronze was a pegasus, wasn't he?"

The leg on my back flinched. I kept staring at the floor in front of me. Braeburn stopped preening for a moment, and there was a long pause. "Yeah. He is," was all he said before he went back to my feathers.

My head had cleared enough for me to work on my own wings again. I started on the right one, and we both worked for a few minutes. I didn't want to interrupt, but I wanted to know more. "What was he like?" Braeburn kept grooming me, so I asked again with a little more force in my voice. "Braeburn, what was Bronze like?"

Braeburn stopped again. He took his time, and I could feel his pulse from where part of his chest was on my back. It was smooth and regular and relaxed. "He's..." He must have let his head sink down, because I felt more breaths on my back. "He's a strong pegasus, and he made me feel like I had somepony to watch over me. Heh. At least at first. And he's a looker, too. Lean. Muscular. Broad hooves and big, healthy wings that spread wide enough to block the sun." Braeburn spoke slowly with warmth in his voice. "His voice is low and smooth. He's got deeply set, brilliant golden eyes that sparkle even in the dark, and a coat that shimmers like wildfire."

My chest tensed up, and my thoughts played on a loop. 'He's not over him. He's not over him.' My heart sank through the floor, but I didn't want to make him worry. "Heh."

"Hm?" Braeburn's voice returned to almost-normal. "What's funny?"

"Eh, you know." I stretched out my back. "Athletic pegasus, big wings..." I looked over my shoulder at him, careful not to stretch my neck again. "You totally have a type."

Braeburn turned his head and looked at me with half-lidded bedroom eyes that burned through to my soul. His voice was low and sensual. "And how do you know you're my type, mister?"

Braeburn's leg was still around my back. I had him.

In a flash, I folded my wings in and tossed my body to the side, rolling onto my back. Braeburn gasped and moved with me, ending up lying sideways across my belly. The skin down there is sensitive, and I could feel his heartbeat again. It had picked up.

I lifted my head and looked at him with a smirk. He looked back at me with wide eyes and slightly parted lips, not daring to blink or breathe.

I let us stay that way for a long moment before I tipped my cards. "Because you haven't gotten up yet."

Braeburn's expression brightened, but he blushed a deep red. He quickly stood up and brushed himself off. "It's, uh, heh heh." He was stifling a lot of giggling. "Quite a, uh, compromising position we had there. Lucky nopony walked in."

I stayed on my back, forelegs limp.

"You, uh... You finish your business. I need to get those letters in the mail by noon."

He went back to his desk, and I rolled back over to finish preening. It was different, though. His touch had put something into my body, something that began smoldering and hasn't ever stopped.

I was on my last few feathers just as the bell above the front doors jingled. It was a sharp, tinny noise that felt like somepony was shoving pencils in your ears. Braeburn snapped to attention. "Oh! Uh, Soarin'? Could you, uh, go check on Silverstar? He should be here by now." His voice was... different. It was the same as it had been in the orchard: rushed, but not in an excited way.

I'd heard that tone before, and it only ever came up when I was dating somepony new. He was trying to get rid of me. Can you believe it? My face flushed red, my lower lip stiffened and my eyebrows furrowed. "I'm sure he's fine." I went back to preening.

The door slammed shut as a stallion wandered towards us. Braeburn looked rapidly back and forth between me and the new guest. His head lowered and he silently mouthed to me, "Please?"

I mouthed back, "No."

Braeburn gave me the puppy eyes. When I just glared back at him, he sucked in some air, sat up straight, and put on a big smile as he turned to the new guy. "Mornin', Fertile Seed! How's the family?"

The stallion had a dark brown coat and a green mane, and his cutie mark looked like a patch of grass. He scowled from under his hat. "Big. Same as always, but that ain't why I'm here." His voice was gruff, like he was trying to be intimidating. It was kinda working. He sped up to Braeburn's desk and threw his two front hooves on top. "My hens got all worked up again, and the gate was busted. One of them–" he cast a glance my way. "–city ponies musta been messin' with 'em. You gotta stop bringin' all them into town, Braeburn! You're ruinin' Appleloosa!"

Braeburn didn't budge. His voice dropped, and he set his shoulders, but he didn't back down. "Now, Seed, you know we don't hardly get visitors until the weekend. Maybe one of your colts–"

Fertile Seed slammed a hoof on the desk. "Don't you talk to me about raisin’ colts!" Braeburn's stiff demeanor cracked just a little, and I stood up, wondering where the hell this guy got off talking to Braeburn that way. "It had to be one of those out-of-towners you're always bringin' in! They get it in their head that Appleloosa's their playground, and they cause all sorts of trouble."

Braeburn took a deep breath. "Well, it's certainly trouble for everypony when we can't speak like reasonable–"

"Aw, shut it! I don't need some faggoty-ass pretty colt givin' me lip about manners with his..." Seed flicked a hoof at me. "...stallion of the week gawkin’ at me."

Braeburn's composure faltered. He slumped back and glanced to the side, and his voice cracked. "H-he's just a guest." His words were like a knife in the stomach, but that wasn't what hurt the most. What hurt the most was seeing it happen, seeing Braeburn get yelled at and intimidated, right in front of my face. My muscles clenched and my wings flared out, and my chest heaved with simmering rage. "M-Mr. Soarin's gonna be–"

"Ha! Learned this one's name, didja? That's quite a feat for you."

Braeburn's head tilted down. He'd lost all his steam.

Not me, though. Mine had built up and was boiling over. I leapt up into the air and dashed over in two wingbeats. Before Fertile Seed could blink, I was on the desk and had my forehead pressed against his. "What the fuck is your problem? You seriously have nothing better to do than invent reasons to chew out the pony that keeps your fucking town alive?"

Seed pushed his head against mine. "Son, this ain't any of your–"

I pushed back. Much harder. "Like hell it's not!" I stomped on the desk, leaving a small imprint. "Braeburn works his sexy, sexy ass off to keep your Celestia-damned town from collapsing, and you actually want to make his life harder?" I jabbed his chest. "Fuck you!"

He paused and his lip flinched. "Son, my family doesn't need some quee–"

"Dude! What the hell do you think happens to your family if Braeburn lets your town go under?" He didn't respond right away. "Tell me! What happens!?"

Seed opened his mouth to roar at me again, but nothing came out. He stood there slack-jawed, and I could see the gears turning behind his eyes. If you ever want to mess with a guy's head, just tell him that what he's doing is bad for his kids.

Fertile Seed closed his mouth, and slowly shook his head. He turned and walked to the door, muttering, "It ain't right."

I shook. Seeing him walk out calmed my nerves a little, but I was way, way too close to flying after him and drop-kicking him in the back of the head. I checked myself, though, for Braeburn's sake. I fluttered backwards off the desk, landed next to him, and folded my wings in, keeping an eye on the door for a few seconds.

Glancing at the mark I'd made on Braeburn's desk, I sighed angrily and griped, "Sorry about your–"

Two yellow legs came out of nowhere and wrapped around me. I felt a face bury itself in my shoulder. My blood froze and felt hot at the same time, and I heard a muffled, "Thank you."

The rest of the world faded away, and all my senses shut out everything that wasn't hugging me. Delicately, I wrapped a leg around his back. My voice was soft and reassuring, and it got caught in my throat the first time I tried to speak, but I managed to squeak out, "Any time."

I hugged him closer. We stood there, motionless, for too short a time. I wanted to never move again.

Braeburn pulled away. The corners of his eyes were a little wet, but he was smiling. "It's, uh..." He chuckled nervously. "It wasn't that exciting, was it?"

"What do you mean?" The hug? The fight? Braeburn pointed to something behind me. I looked over my shoulder, aaaaaaand yep. Full-on wing-boner. My face felt hot, and it scrunched up instinctively. I looked back at Braeburn, and I could see he was breathing more heavily. His eyes were fixated on my wings.

'Heh. He really loves the feathers, doesn't he?' I gave him the sexy badass look. You know the one: where you've got your head cocked back and that small, wicked smile on your face. "Impressed?"

Braeburn let out a slow breath, and the corners of his mouth flickered up and down. "They're... nice."

The air was thick and heavy, and nopony else was around. I felt that tingle again, the one that runs down your spine when you stop thinking with your brain and start thinking with your body. My chest puffed up, my voice lowered, and I took a step towards Braeburn. This was it. I was going for it.

"Yeah," I cooed in the sultriest voice I could manage. I spoke slowly, letting every word sink in. "They're real nice. Especially when they brush against your ears." I took a step closer. "Or your shoulders." Another step. Braeburn was like a statue. "Or your stomach. Or..." I was right up to him, and I leaned in to whisper into his ear. You can probably guess what I said.

He exhaled a shaky breath that fluttered down my neck like a hundred butterflies.

I kept going. My voice was soft and seductive. "I wanna touch you, Braeburn." I nuzzled the side of his face just slightly. Just a little. My whole body was on fire, and I hungered. I'd waited long enough. "I wanna make you scream."

Braeburn shuddered. "I... no."

"Heh. That obvious, am I? Of course you know. You're the sexiest pony alive." My mouth opened slowly, and my tongue rolled out. I leaned in further, just inches from kissing his neck.

I could barely hear him. "I meant..."

The bell ring at the front door was like twin lightning strikes straight through my head and my chest. I jumped back, caught myself in mid-air, and whipped my head everywhere as my lungs seized up and my legs flailed around.

My eyes finally settled on Sheriff Silverstar closing the door behind him. He turned to us with a friendly, "Mornin', you two! Thanks for holdin' the fort." I could feel my blood pulsing all the way in my hooves. "Nugget got sick, and I had to watch her while Shady Grove got the doc. Did I miss anything?"

Braeburn was quick to respond and even quicker to sit back in his chair and grab the quill. "Nope! Nothing! Nothing to see. Soarin' was just dropping by."

That stung. It stung worse than the orchard or with Seed. I started to get angry again, but I think my brain was too confused by everything that had happened, and I just got dizzy instead.

"Well, alright." Dude was clueless. He trotted back to his office. "Holler if you need me."

The door shut, and silence filled the room. Braeburn let out a long sigh, slumped back into his chair, breathing heavily, and turned to me with an almost drunk-looking smile.

His smile faded as soon as he heard the roughness in my voice. "Just stopping by?"

He sat up. "Pardon?"

I kept my voice to an angry whisper. I swore to myself that I'd be better than Bronze. I wouldn't yell. Not again. "What the heck, Braeburn? You're embarrassed of me. You don't even want them to know I'm here with you."

"I..." He trailed off.

"Don't lie." I couldn't hide the disgust in my voice.

His face drooped, and he wouldn't look back up at me. "I just don't want them to pry, Soarin'." He gestured at the door. "You see how they get."

I should have been more understanding, but I was ticked. "Whatever. I'm going to practice." I cantered towards the door, my hoofsteps much louder than they needed to be.

"Soarin', hold up."

I paused.

"T-tomorrow, okay?" I looked back to see Braeburn shrinking behind his desk, and the guilt started coming back like an old rash. He stepped around the desk and trotted to me, putting his body between me and the doorway. "Tomorrow morning. Breakfast at the diner, then you get a real tour of the town. Out in public." His jaw tensed. "I-I promise."

Braeburn was going to show me around. He was going to walk with me through the streets and show me all the cool places, even though he'd worry about what everypony would say. Sometimes you get what you want, and it makes you feel like a manipulative bastard. The guilt wasn't like a rash. No, it was like a broken bone that refused to heal at that point. I hadn't meant to hurt him, just...

I had to test it. "You sure you want a third date?" He didn't even flinch at my word choice. Instead, he just nodded. That warmed me, but my chest was still too messed up from going through such a crazy mix of emotions so early in the morning. Still, I had my answer, and I still wanted him in every way you can want another pony. I smiled. "Good. I do, too."

Braeburn smiled weakly.

I sidestepped him and walked out the door, but not without extending my wing just enough to brush against his shoulder and the side of his stomach. I got a cute squeak and a wince for my trouble.

After that, I grabbed some water and found an isolated place outside of town where I wouldn't be bothered. I spent the rest of the day doing barrel rolls and dives and a bunch of other stuff that you really shouldn't do without a spotter. It wasn't sex, but the next best way to burn the lust out of your veins is relentless training. It was worth putting up with the quiet to settle down. I didn't eat lunch – can't fly an on full belly – and ended up going hard for the rest of the day.

It took a lot of exercise to feel better, but it worked, and as I flew back to town, the evening chill piercing my sweaty skin, I thought, 'Third date. Everypony knows what happens on the third date.'

Chapter 19 - The Heat of the Night

* * * * *

Soarin' looks at me. "Something wrong?"

It's just a cloud. It's just a big, flat cloud. "This is a park?"

"Um, yeah. Why do you think there aren't any houses?"

I look all around the big square area. There's almost nothing here. Off to one side, a small building has the word "Equipment" painted on the side, and there are a few benches around the edges, but otherwise it’s a blank canvas of condensed water. "I was expecting something a little more… anything." I look over at Soarin', who rolls his eyes. "I guess I'm just used to trees."

Soarin' cocks his head to the side. "Yeah. That's probably why nopony's ever here. Bench or the field?"

I kick up a little bit of the cloud below us. Water condenses on my hoof as a small wisp of white diffuses into nothingness. It's cool, and I imagine lying down would be more comfortable if Soarin's plans on taking off his leg braces. "The field is fine. Sun's going to toast our backs, anyway."

"Good call."

We walk a little ways onto the field, and I sneak another look at his saddle bag. Soarin' is right – trying to manipulate ponies into saying what you want is disgusting. Or am I just telling myself what I want to hear so I don't have to feel guilty? Meta-manipulation? I gotta quit thinking like… no. No. I can't stop being inquisitive. I wouldn't have gotten this far without a little linguistic embellishment.

Buck. Relationships are tough.

We stop, and I pick up the conversation. "Did you fly down and meet him? In the orchard, I mean."

Soarin' sits down. "Hm? Nah. I figured he was just working off some nervous energy, like I was with the flying. No point in keeping us both on edge, right?"

I lie down and feel the cool blanket of moisture hold me up despite what my brain knows should be happening. Magic 1, physics 0. The hot rays on my head are starting to make me sweat, but the cloud beneath me balances it out like the cool side of a pillow. "So what did you to, then?"

"Just a sec." He stretches his neck down and begins loosening his leg braces. I'll be relieved to see him without those things again.

* * * * *

I spent some time reading "Whitewing's Big Score." It was getting good – Whitewing had broken his sweetheart out of jail, and they were flying away from this unicorn mafia. Cool stuff, but I looked outside and saw that the sun was low in the sky.

It's really stupid, but I started feeling jittery. My jaw shook a little, and I found myself wishing I'd had a gift. It was like prom night – you want to make a good impression not just for your sake, but so you don't embarrass your date. I'm a grown stallion, though. Crazy.

I took another shower and preened myself, just so I could focus on something else. The sun was setting, but I wasn't about to show up to his door on time.

Hey, I'm not a D-lister. I'm never the first one to a party. Have some class, dude.

The anticipation was getting under my skin, though. I bobbed my head as I looked around the room. 'Should we come back here tonight?' The furniture was sparse, but all you really need is a bed. 'Nah, his place is nicer. What if he doesn't invite me in, though?' You gotta plan for these things. If you really want to score with somepony, you can't have the place looking like a sty. I made the bed, thinking about different ways to get into Braeburn's house, when I noticed my hotel key still jingling on my neck. I smirked to myself. "That'll do."

* * * * *

Soarin' shudders and sneers. "Ew. What a creep, right?" He shakes his head and looks up at the sky. He sighs. "Like he was just a sex toy or something."

"You–" I'm doing it again. I'm going to try to shape his feelings. This is helping, though, right? "You seem to take issue with your previous tactics. It's easy to get distracted by our urges. We all feel that way sometimes." Steady.

Soarin' looks back at me. "Urges? You don't even know. Braeburn could have had me wrapped around his hoof if he'd been the malicious type."

"Did you go through with your plan, though?"

"Duh! It was freaking brilliant!"

* * * * *

It was well past dark out when I flew over to Braeburn's. Country music played from the center of town, wafting over the buildings as I stood nervously on Braeburn's porch. The night air had started taking on a chill, and the full moon lit up the town like daylight.

I knocked.

Braeburn opened the door. Light from a bunch of oil lamps poured out from behind him, and I had to take a second look. What I saw absolutely took my breath away.

He'd cleaned himself up: his hat and vest were in their usual spots, but he also wore a white collared shirt underneath, freshly pressed and completely spotless. It clung to his tight chest, and it was one of the few times I thought he looked sexier with a shirt on. He wore a bola tie around his neck with an apple-shaped clasp. It was made of rubies and had emeralds for the leaves. He'd brushed his mane, too. It looked smooth and soft, and I wanted to rub my face against it.

Braeburn leaned against the doorway and half-lidded his eyes. He was trying got act all cool, but I heard the nervous little pauses in his voice. "Aw, you're makin' me feel o-overdressed."

I looked down at my chest. It was bare – nopony had told me to dress up. I hadn't even brought much from home, anyway. I looked back at him, then off to the side. "Oh. Sorry."

"Oh, come on in. I'll get you somethin' nice."

I stepped inside and trotted into his living room area.

Braeburn was right behind me. "Now, I don't have any shirts with wing holes, but you can borrow my tie. Oh, you can leave your key here if you'd like. Wouldn't want you to lose it."

I thought, 'Ha! Easy. Why do I even bother planning at all?' I took off my key and set it on an end table.

Braeburn took off his bola tie and slipped it around my neck. His hooves moved smoothly, occasionally brushing my neck and relaxing every muscle in my body. He tightened and adjusted the tie while he said, "Careful with this. It was my granddaddy's. Hoo, he'd be havin' a fit if he saw me givin' it to, uh…" He trailed off, and his eyes flicked up to me for a moment. "…to such a handsome stallion. Now!" He was quick to move on. He backed up and looked me up and down. "Still needs somethin'. Hm…" He took his hat off and put it on my head. "Just for tonight. Careful with that one, too."

"Your grandpa's?" I smirked.

"No, I just like it. Suppose my look's a little off now, though. How do I look?" Braeburn stepped back and flicked his head to the side to get his bangs out of his eyes. They fell right back into place, and I swear to you, he looked like the most beautiful painting you've ever seen: an anatomically perfect stallion in a room with dim lighting, striking a pose that melted your heart.

He was right, though. Something needed adjusting. I set my jaw and knit my eyebrows. "Hm…" With a quick hoof, I unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt. It had looked goofy without the tie, and this way, I got to see more of his chest. I fixated on it. I wanted to stroke it. My eyes traced up his body to his face. He was breathing more heavily, and I told him what I really thought. "You are so, so damn handsome. You're even sexier than sex."

Braeburn blushed and flicked his tail. His head turned down and to the side, his ears went flat, and he smiled. "Thank you."

"Speaking of…" I reached out a wing and caressed his face. He shuddered. "We don't have to go to the dance." I was pent up. Hell, I felt like I would explode. It took all my focus not to tackle him to the floor right then and there.

Braeburn flinched, though, and I drew my wing back. He looked back at me, and his eyes weren't glittering as much as they had been a moment before. "I promised you a night on the town, and I intend to keep my word."

Looking back, I think he was hiding, using the dance as an excuse.

He blew out all but one of the lamps, and we took off toward town.

I'm not very good at naming instruments, but I could hear a fiddle and I think a banjo and some other stuff winding through the town. As we trotted, I turned and asked, "So, do you coordinate all of this? Part of your mayoral duties?"

He playfully nudged me. "Naw, not anymore. The Saturday dances just sorta happened a while back. Anypony that wants to play is welcome, and it's always a hoot. The tourists love it, too!"

We turned a corner down Mane Street to see a feast of lights and movement. Paper lanterns in tons of colors lined the street, giving it a rainbow glow. Ponies skipped and hopped around, some in time with the music and some only with themselves, while musicians swayed and tossed with their instruments, hooting and hollering and with no need for sheet music. A mishmash of voices sang and shouted lively music while hooves stomped and clapped along with them, and dozens and dozens of ponies whirled around each other. The whole town must have been there! You could tell the city ponies, too, from the awkward way they flailed around, but nopony minded. Their smiles were bright enough to light up the whole Southwest, and I felt my heart start to beat with the rhythm.

I couldn't contain myself "Whoo!" I bolted straight forward, weaving between ponies to get in the center of the crowd, to feel that energy pulsing through everypony as they cheered louder and louder. All that excitement was like a drink of water in the middle of a hot desert, something I couldn't live without.

Braeburn hadn't followed me. I'd been too drunk on the crowd to notice at first, but when I turned around, he was schmoozing with all the ponies at the fringes. They looked like city ponies, mostly, kicking the dirt and politely nodding with big grimaces on their faces. 'He must be convincing them to dance. C'mon, Braeburn. Don't be a hypocrite.'

An earth pony couple pranced in my way, so I took to the air and fluttered over to Braeburn and the unicorn couple he was talking to.

The dark blue stallion commented to Braeburn, "I'm certainly not as nimble as I used to be." He had that light, aloof Canterlot accent. "And Honeysuckle never was much for dancing. We really don't mind. It's just fun to watch."

Braeburn leaned in, raising his voice to be heard over the crowd. "Aw, but you'll miss all the fun! When are you gonna get this chance again?"

I plopped down behind him. "Maybe you should show 'em how it's done, Brae?"

Braeburn startled.

The unicorn stallion's eyes widened. "Mr. Windsong! Pleasure!" He extended a hoof.

I shook it quickly. "Yeah. Hi." I didn't feel like playing celebrity, not on my night out. "Braeburn was just about to come dance."

Braeburn backed up a step to include me in the circle. His eyes darted around. "W-well, I couldn't dance knowin' these folks weren't having the best time imaginable."

The song ended, and Mane Street erupted with applause.

"Deal!" I turned back to the unicorns. "He's in if you're in. Good?"

The stallion nodded at his companion. "Oh, why not? Give it a try, Honey?" He nuzzled her cheek.

"Cool. See you in there!" I dashed around Braeburn, and before he could protest, I was nudging him into the crowd just in time for the next song to start.

We only got a little ways in before he shouted over the noise. "That was pretty rude, you know!"

I looked up. "They'll forgive you. You're the mayor." I flashed him a smile. We'd reached a spot somewhere in the middle with enough space to start dancing. "So, earth pony, impress me. How do they dance 'round these parts?"

Braeburn took a deep breath, but he smiled and kept his eyes on me. Then, when the music swelled, he tossed his head down, then back, and from there, there was no stopping him. He pranced around in perfect time with the music. Hard stomps fell on the grounds, and his mane and tail flew wildly around. He was a tornado of movement, but he always looked like he was in control, just like when he'd been bucking apples.

I joined in, too. I dance with a lot more hip movement – you can never shake too much ass – but I was able to get into the upbeat sound of the strings and the drums. The whole Mane Street thumped with the stomps of all the ponies, and I let myself get lost in it.

We danced like that for over an hour, until Braeburn's shirt was drenched with sweat and I felt delirious. We didn't want to quit, though, and we even jumped in on a few line dances. I was terrible at it, obviously, but Braeburn looked right at home. I wasn't any worse than the tourists, at least.

And you know what? He didn't spend the whole time looking over his shoulder. He didn't stop every few beats to make sure nopony was staring, and he didn't keep ducking out to get water. He just danced. He danced next to me, right there in the middle of everypony where they could all see.

But after a while, there was a pause in the music, and I saw Braeburn tense up. I didn't understand why until one of the musicians announced that it was time for the couples' dances. Braeburn looked quickly between me and the sea of ponies, and I saw his eyes lock onto Pridesong deep in the crowd. Braeburn turned back to me, fidgeting a little in place.

'Poor guy,' I thought. 'I don't want him to suffer.' I thought about it, and we had technically danced together, even if it hadn't been all night. It was enough, though. Plus, I was ready to move on from square dancing to the horizontal mambo. I leaned in and spoke closely to his ear. "Not feeling it?"

Braeburn shook his head, not bothering to try and talk over the fevered conversations of the crowd.

"Then let's bail."

Braeburn let out a slow breath. "Thanks."

We ducked into an alley and came out behind a row of buildings. The music was muffled, and the side street was lit with nothing but moonlight. As we started walking towards his house, I could smell the hot sweat on him, and my pulse picked up.

He turned his head towards me. "You have a good time?"

"Yeah." I looked over at him. "But I know how to make it a great time." I waltzed up next to him, nice and close.

He pulled away a few paces and looked at the dirt. "You, uh… you pretty much got a one-track mind, don't you?"

I whinnied. "Two-track mind if you've got a hot friend."

Braeburn gave me a token laugh, but he kept his eyes cast down as we trotted along. His body sagged, and he didn't say anything else. All I could hear was the sound of hooves on the hard ground as the music faded more and more behind us.

Something didn't feel right, but my mind was still flooded with instinct and desire. I finally broke the silence. "So… bottom? Switch? I like to take the lead, but I don't mind changing it up."

"Heh."

It was quiet.

We kept walking past his house and towards the orchard, and I couldn't take it. "Dude, spill it. What's on your mind?"

"Aw, I hate to say." He looked up and flashed a forced smile. "Hate to spoil such a great evening."

It wasn't hard to guess what he was thinking about. "Braeburn, you can talk about him. I won't mind."

He sighed. We kept walking, out of the sand and dust and onto the grass. "I… I guess I'm still feeling attached is all." I let him take his time. "He was the most serious coltfriend I've ever had, Soarin'. He made me feel like somepony. Made me feel like I was important and accepted, and it gave me a lot of strength. Havin' him in my life made all the hard things easier, and I got to do so much more work for the town, for everypony."

My mind tossed with different ideas about how to get him out of a rut and onto the rutting. "It's done, though. You need to get over him. Just move on, already."

"It ain't that simple." He glanced over to me with a look in his eye, something that I tried to pretend wasn't there. "Haven't you ever had a rough breakup?"

I rolled my eyes. "Duh!" Ugh. "Tons of 'em. Big fights, lots of tears. One time, I was dating this technician, and he locked me out of my own house!"

Braeburn gave a half-hearted chuckle. "No. Not like that." His voice was smooth and mellow and ethereal, like he was telling me a bedtime story that was about to make me cry. "I mean, a rough breakup. One with a pony you care about, deep down in your soul, and when they leave, it feels like they've taken the best piece of you with them."

I paused. "Well, there was…" I looked forwards and searched my memories. Nothing came to mind.

"Somepony that you couldn't imagine being without. Somepony that meant more to you than all the world."

I stopped walking. My rump fell to the cool ground. I could feel how wide my eyes were getting. My head shook a little. I thought back to every long-term relationship I'd had: Sapphire, Coal Shaft, Heartspring… Nothing. My chest felt all weird and scrunchy.

I looked up at Braeburn. The moonlight was casting a shadow across his face, but I could still see those gorgeous eyes.

It was weird. I'd always thought of myself as the expert on dating. I'd been through enough to know all the angles – pickups, places to go, how to please a mare or a stallion – but I was completely at a loss. I was supposed to know the game inside and out.

But there was Braeburn, breaking all the rules. I had a million ways to make somepony want me, to make them feel special, but none of them seemed right. It was like I could see two of him in the same body – one was a sexy, beautiful stallion that would give me what I needed in the sack, and the other was a companion that would always listen to me, one that I wanted to be around all the time. I felt like I had to choose, but I didn't know how, or even what I really wanted.

I mumbled, "No. I haven't."

Braeburn nodded. "Well, I'll tell you, it ain't a picnic." Braeburn's voice was even softer, light enough that none of the leaves on the trees would have heard him. He wasn't judging me, I don't think. It was more like he was in his own world. "When somepony like that leaves, it feels like they take all the best parts of you with them, and you don't know if what's left is even worth anything. It feels like…" He trailed off.

I finished for him, my eyes still on the ground. "It feels like a hole in your chest." I looked up.

Braeburn had turned his head towards me. "Yeah. Exactly."

The breeze was cool, and crickets chirped somewhere deep in the orchard.

He continued. "Sounds like you have had a bad breakup."

I picked myself up and shook out my mane. "Not really. I think it's just the same for anypony that leaves."

"Right. Your… mother."

We walked on. The scent of apples was heady, and the stars twinkled above us while the full moon was low in the sky. We walked around the edge of the orchard, hardly making a sound except for our hooves brushing against the cool grass. I tried as hard as I could not to think.

After a while, Braeburn spoke up hesitantly. "And… that hole kinda grows, right? As time goes on?"

"Totally." He was showing me his scars, and even though I was afraid to show mine, I knew it would be okay. I always knew it would be okay with him. "And you try to fill it, but it never works."

"Heh. Right." I stole a glance. He was looking up at the stars with a weak smile on his face.

I thought about nuzzling him onto the ground and cuddling his brains out, then screwing him right in the orchard. My heart raced. I tried to wave those thoughts away at the same time that I was trying to imagine them more vividly. My head started hurting.

Braeburn's smile faded. "I'm scared, Soar. Please don't judge, but I am." He looked right at me, and I could tell it strained him to do so. "I-I'm scared I'm a bad coltfriend, or that I'll hurt you, or that I can't give you what you need."

'I need you on top of me.' I jerked my head around. 'Damn it! The hell is wrong with me? He's having a heart-to-heart, and you can't get your mind out of the gutter.' My cheeks felt hot. I let out a small grumble.

"Sorry."

'One line,' I thought. 'One line about moving on and feeling free, and he'll totally give it up.' My steps were getting shaky, so I flapped my wings and hovered alongside him. 'I need this. I need him. He's the only pony that can make me feel better.'

I chewed on the inside of my cheek. My breathing felt like it wasn't enough, like my lungs needed more air. 'Okay. If I don't seal the deal, I'll never get him, but if I push too hard, he'll leave.' My muscles tensed. 'He'd leave me, just like everypony else.'

I was in a hurricane. A silent hurricane. Braeburn wasn't talking, I wasn't talking, and those damn trees kept their mouths shut.

Before long, we'd made a circuit through most of the orchard, and we were heading back to his house. It grew closer and closer, and I couldn't think of anything to say. My stomach lurched. I felt dizzy, and my jaw quivered.

We were at his porch. The lamp from earlier still burned from inside his house.

Braeburn stopped, looked at the door handle, and took a deep breath. He opened the door into his dark house, and the lamp cast a lonely glow back out at us. Braeburn turned. His eyes flicked down, but he slowly brought them up to meet mine. He paused, then spoke in a clear, matter-of-fact voice. "Well, I, uh…" His white shirt was dusty, and the sweat from the dance had matted his mane, and his smell made my blood rush again. "I suppose you…" He looked away. "You have certain expectations, right? Third date and all." He was looking back towards the orchard.

I dropped onto my hooves and stared at his profile. My mouth opened, but nothing came out. My mouth was dry. My wings itched. My thoughts raced. 'He'll leave me. But I need him. I need that body, but I need that friend.'

Braeburn's lips were slightly parted. "I-I wouldn't say no. And I'd try not to… lose my head again." He still couldn't look at me.

But he was offering himself. My whole body burned for him, but my heart felt cold. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. I couldn't decide – did I want a lover or a friend? Somepony to please me? Or somepony to care for me?

And then he said it. He looked right at me with big, pleading eyes and said, "We both deserve some comfort."

It clicked. I knew what I wanted, and it wasn't for him to be my hookup or my confidant. It wasn't for him to be my anything. I wanted him to be happy, to feel safe, regardless of what that meant for me. I wanted him to make his own decisions, to not feel like he had to do something for somepony else's sake, and I wanted him to take as much time as he needed. For the first time in my life, I cared so, so much more about another pony's happiness than my own.

I took his hat off my head and studied it, turning it over in my hoof. It was worn. It had been through a lot, but it had weathered everything the world had thrown at it, and it still always got the job done no matter how beat up it had been. It was the perfect hat for him.

I sighed, and the adrenaline started coming under control. "Yeah. We do." I looked up to see big, scared, confused, sparkling green eyes staring back at me. Delicately, I settled Braeburn's hat back onto his head.

Braeburn's eyes flickered up to his hat, then back to me. His head tilted just slightly to the side, and his eyebrows were knit.

I held my breath until I couldn't hold the words back anymore. "But only when you're ready."

Braeburn looked deeply into me, past all the jokes and confidence and supposed experience. I have no doubt that, at that moment, he saw me for what I really was. And he didn't say anything.

I wanted him to know I'd wait. I wanted to show him how much I cared and that I was okay with him just the way he was, even if he wasn't ready to get intimate with me. Only one thing came to mind. I leaned in and gave him a small kiss, just a peck on the end of his velvety nose, and pulled back to see his wide-eyed expression.

There was a long pause. I let it linger for a while, and then I finally broke it with a small smile and a quiet, soothing voice. "Good night, Braeburn."

He smiled back, and even with the dim light, I don't think I've ever seen his eyes shine brighter.

I liked that image. I liked it enough to end the night on, so I quickly turned and jumped into the sky.

In moments, I was coasting around the skies of Appleloosa. I closed my eyes and breathed in the cool, dusty air of the night, letting the starlight wash over me.

It was the weirdest feeling. Relief, disappointment, pride, sadness… It all mixed together for me as I flew. Maybe ponies that do a bunch of charity work feel that way all the time. Or maybe it's the feeling that you're supposed to get when you watch your foal succeed at something, or when you step down and let a friend take the spotlight for a change. I don't know what it was, but it was powerful, and it weighed me down and lifted me up all at once.

I zoned out and flew around the night sky for a while. It was quiet, but my head was completely clear. I didn't mind at all.

Once the dance had died down below me, I glided to the hotel. I was tired, but I managed to drag myself up the stairs to my room. That's when I reached for the key around my neck and felt something else. "Dammit." I was still wearing Braeburn's bola tie. With a groan, I went back down to the front desk. Fortunately, Daisy Springs was still up, and she let me into my room with a spare key.

I carefully took off the tie and set it down on the dresser in my room, then flopped face-first onto the bed. My legs were sore, my head ached, and my hooves were killing me.

But my heart felt right. I rolled onto my back and felt my chest. No hole.

The curtains were wide-open, and the moon was in full view. I rolled my head to the side so I could get a better look, and having that cool blue light on my face soothed me. And, yeah, the moon was round and perfect, just like you-know-what. That was soothing to think about too, even if I'd resigned myself to not getting any of it that night.

I started drifting off to sleep with Braeburn dancing around in my mind. I pictured him back at his house, thinking fondly about the night we'd had, finally relaxing and believing everything would be okay. I thought about hugging him goodbye in a few days and heading back to Cloudsdale with a story about an almost lover and a new friend. And I imagined Braeburn living a long, happy life with the stallion of his dreams, even if it wasn't me. And I was satisfied.

* * * * *

Soarin' gazes up into the sky with a warm smile on his face. Were it not for the breeze mussing his mane, I'd think he was a statue. A sense of calm radiates from him, and I feel my body grow more relaxed the more I watch him. It must not just be an earth pony thing.

No choosing words, no fretting over implications. It's time to speak from the heart. "That was very mature of you. It takes a lot to give up something you want for somepony else."

Soarin' sniffs and wipes at his eye with a fetlock, his head still turned skyward. "Thanks." He looks at me. His face appears worn but content, and the sun's reflection off of the clouds gives his body a subtle blue glow. His wings flap out, sending a small breeze at me, and even with his withered legs tucked under him and the braces sitting at his side, he looks absolutely majestic.

I nod at him. "You're wel–"

"For listening."

"Pardon?"

He folds his wings. "Thanks for listening. It's been… a while since I've told the whole story."

"I consider myself very fortunate to hear it." I really do. Book or no, I feel like I'm seeing something, something that most ponies would never share with a stranger. I like this feeling. "I suppose when Sunday morning rolled around, you–"

"Sh." He holds up a hoof and speaks in an even, gentle voice. "The whole story."

* * * * *

The sound of metal on metal jarred me back awake, and I sat up as the door slowly creaked open. My voice was barely above a whisper. "Daisy?"

What I heard in the dark was pure gold. It was the same calming sound that had coaxed me back from a head injury when I'd hit the apple tree, the same voice that soothed me when there was too much light, tinged with just the slightest hesitation. "You, uh, you shouldn't leave your keys lying around." An earth pony slipped in and locked the door behind him, and I saw a cowpony hat fly silently across the room and land on the dresser. "Never know what kind of folk might find their way in." He took a few more steps toward me and stood in the moonlight, and I saw that his shirt was unbuttoned.

I was frozen. I wanted to rub my eyes or check my pulse or bite myself to make sure I wasn't dreaming, but I couldn't tear my eyes away.

He stood there a moment longer, motionless. Then, slowly, sensually, he pulled his legs out of the sleeves, and the shirt and vest slid off. He kicked them to the side of the bed. All that was left was a buff earth pony, standing naked in the moonlight at the edge of my bed, chest puffed out and a soft, warm look on his face. "I… I think I'm ready, Soarin'. I-If you'll have me."

I couldn't breathe. I leaned forward and paused a moment, worried that I was about to screw something up, but no. Everything felt exactly right. I gave him a warm smile and patted the bed in front of me. "Braeburn, get that sexy ass over here."

He let out a big breath. He smiled and shuddered, then crawled onto the bed, moving closer and closer to me.

A thought struck me, and as he came within inches of my body, I put up a hoof to his chest, trying to ignore the hurt look he gave me. "Whoa. Real quick." His nose touched mine. "You're not drunk, are you?"

The moonlight shone off his teeth. "Well, you should probably test it, just to be sure."

Braeburn leaned forward. His lips locked onto mine, and I fell backwards onto the bed as all his weight crashed down on me in a tidal wave of fur and muscle. My body felt electric. He moaned into my mouth and wrapped his legs around me, and his tongue began swirling with mine.

I let it all go. Immediately, I was groping and squeezing and nuzzling and sucking as hard as I could.

It took a lot of force for him to pry himself away. We were both panting lightly as he asked, "So… do I pass?"

My mind went blank. "Uh…" I hadn't been paying attention to his breath.

"Oh, come on." He nudged my shoulder and rolled his eyes. "You're really gonna give me that line about how you need to double-check?"

"Hey!" I ran a hoof across his taut chest. "I was distracted."

Braeburn snickered and shook his head. "You goof."

"But you're right. We should probably test it again." I reached up and hooked a leg around his neck and pulled him back down onto me. His body was warm, and the weight on my chest made it all feel real. I closed my eyes and kissed him again, savoring the taste, and then sucked his lower lip into my mouth to nibble on it.

Braeburn groaned and pulled away. He thrust himself forward and squeezed me tightly around the shoulders, kissing my face over and over again.

I reciprocated and kissed all along his neck. My heart pounded. My fur stood on end. I stopped thinking. All I could do was react and let that beautiful stallion take me away. I sucked on his neck and ran a hoof down his back.

We squirmed in each other's forelegs, and each motion sent another tingle from my tail to my head. I couldn't stop. I reached down to Braeburn's hips and pulled him closer. Our chests pressed together, and the heat from our bodies made our movements even more pleasurable.

My mind caved in. My chest rumbled, and I growled like a feral animal as we writhed and groaned together. My breaths came out in quick, strong huffs, and I felt the pressure already building deep within me.

But I was not about to let those feelings end so quickly. Braeburn pulled his head back, and I took my chance. I pushed him onto his side, and we rolled over so that I was on top of him. My wings flared out all on their own.

Braeburn looked amazing on his back. I took in every detail I could as he ran a hoof through his luxurious mane. His broad chest quickly rose and fell, and his half-lidded eyes invited me to keep going. His mouth hung open, and he stroked his neck sensually. I growled a low, "Oh, yeah…" and went in for another kiss.

He'd begun to sweat, and so had I. Our scents mixed in the humid Appleloosa air, and no matter how close I got to him, I wanted him closer. I wanted him to be a part of me, and pulling away from our kiss physically pained me, but to say something, if only to convince myself it was real. "Braeburn, you're the sexiest stallion I've ever met."

Braeburn's eyes fluttered, and he panted, "Back at you, Big Blue." My wings flared out wider, letting soft rays of moonlight filter through to his face. He eyes lingered on my wings, and with a snicker and a shake of his head, he whispered, "Now that just ain't fair."

I grinned. "You do have a type." Slowly, I stretched out my wings and caressed his body with my feathers. Across his forehead. Down his sides. Up his legs. Back and forth on his chest. He writhed at every stroke, and his moans of pleasure made my head spin.

Through the haze, I saw Braeburn's head tilt back and a warm smile spread across his face as he closed his eyes and moved along with me. "Mmm…" His voice sounded heavy and low, and he arched his back more and more as I kept going. It drove me wild, and my instincts completely took over.

We couldn't hold back after that, and neither of us resisted. Everything my body had wanted since meeting him, every fantasy that had sprung to mind… It was all happening. I got lost in his muscles, his mane, and every inch of him, like I was in an apple-scented fog that soothed me inside and out the more I breathed it in. We rolled around together, our movements completely in sync, and as we moved from position to position, I sank further into euphoria.

But I remember his hoof on my chest. I was on my back, and I looked up to see Braeburn's head cast downwards. His eyes were closed. He muttered to himself between shuddering moans. I couldn't hear him at first, but as the sweat dripped from my forehead, I strained to listen to him softly mutter, "He's a good stallion." Braeburn had a wide, open-mouthed grin on his face, and he nodded along as I kept pleasing him. "He's a good stallion." The corners of his eyes were wet. They glistened as a small trail of water ran halfway down his cheek. He whispered again, "You're a good stallion."

It changed. The pleasure was all still there, but seeing him on top of me with that mix of joy and relief, fear and calm and sorrow and hope and vulnerability, it all changed. My heart kept pumping blood as hard as it could, but if felt different. It felt bigger, and it felt full. Sweat collected on every part of me, but it was like I wasn't even there. The only thing in my world was Braeburn, and all that mattered to me was making him happy. I wanted to give him every piece of me, every bit of passion and bliss and every part of my body. I wanted him to have it all, and ever since that moment, I've cared about him more than anypony I've ever known.

And I burned. I felt my body slipping away from me, totally consumed by the fire. I felt everything and nothing as my body surrendered itself to him, gave itself up so he could have one more moan, one more scream of joy. Nothing was going to be left of me, and I didn't care. I wanted to keep going. I had to keep going, to became a part of whatever would happen next.

The last bit of my self-control slipped away, and there was no going back. I put my hoof on his. "Braeburn. I… I'm close."

Panting, Braeburn opened his eyes and nodded. "Oh… Oh, Soarin'!" He collapsed onto me, wrapping both his shaking forelegs around me and breathing heavily into my ear. I wrapped my mouth onto his, and, tangled together in heat and sweat and passion, we sent each other over the edge. Lightning raged between us and to every corner of my body. My orgasm seared my body to the bone, burning me up into nothingness as I gave everything to him. I was dying, and I felt more alive than I ever had before. "Braeburn…"

It lasted forever, and it was over in the blink of an eye. It was just like flying, just like that moment where you fold your wings in, let yourself go, and let gravity take over, where you're weightless and euphoric and dizzy and everything is perfect, just for a moment, as you begin to accelerate back to reality.

There was a moment of stillness, and then slowly, still catching his breath, Braeburn sat halfway up. Our eyes met for all of one second before he mashed his lips into mine. I squeezed him tightly, and it was a blur of kissing and sucking and licking and groping and holding him and hoping I would never have to let go. We nuzzled each other and smashed our bodies together and tried to get as close as possible. My heart raged in my chest, and I could feel his pulse pounding, too. His hot breath rolled all along my neck, and we finally collapsed together, our bodies spent and our lungs struggling to take in ragged breaths.

We lay there, holding each other tightly, feeling each other's warmth and desperately clinging to the feelings between us. I had died. I had died and gone to some faraway heaven together with Braeburn. That's the only way to describe it.

When we'd finally remembered how to breathe and my neck had gotten sore from hanging over the bed, Braeburn slowly, shakily hoisted himself up and flopped backwards onto the bed. "My stars, Soarin'…"

Unsteadily, I sat up. I moved up the bed and collapsed next to him, and we wiggled our way under the covers. We were both sweaty and sticky and gross, but that didn't stop us from cuddling up together. I lay on my back, and Braeburn rested himself on my chest.

I wrapped my forelegs around him again and drank in everything. The air reeked of him and me and sex. His body was warm, hot even, and it felt all the warmer against the chill in the night air. It was a different kind of warmth, too, one that warmed me all the way to my soul. Our heavy breathing was the only sound. I stroked his back and sighed, and it took a long, long time for my brain to come back enough to even comprehend what had happened. "Wow."

Braeburn nuzzled my chest and gave a drawn-out, satisfied, "Mm-hm."

My thoughts began to drift, and I played with his mane. It wasn't any less vibrant or beautiful in the moonlight, and it was still as soft as new grass. 'This is real,' I thought. 'This is real, and he's right here, and we're together, and it's real. It's real.'

I know what you're thinking, but no, I didn't say it. I probably could have. I probably should have, and I know now what that feeling was. But I didn't know it at the time. For all the relationships I'd had and all the times I'd said it to make my partner happy, I hadn't ever really felt it before Braeburn. But there, in that little hotel room in that little town in that wide-open dessert, I felt it. I felt it, and it was real.

I did want him to know what an amazing time I'd had, though. Helps the confidence. I squeezed him tightly and cleared my throat. "Braeburn, you're probably going to think I say this to everypony, but seriously, that was the best sex I've ever had."

Braeburn didn't miss a beat. He didn't look up, and he didn't hesitate. He just gave me a flat, "Course it was. I'm the finest piece of ass this side of Canterlot."

"Ha!" I laughed. I grabbed him around the middle and pulled him towards me. He let out a small "eep!" but he didn't resist. I took in a deep breath of his mane, which was quickly becoming my favorite smell in the world. It smelled like him.

My hind leg tingled. He was caressing me near my hooves, and he wasn't afraid to brush up against my inner thigh with a fetlock every once in a while. It made my head swim and my body feel even warmer.

Braeburn's ear brushed across my chin. I stuck my mouth right inside it and spoke in a soft, foalish, affected voice, "I liiiiiiiike you."

His ear twitched, and he squeaked.

I gave a small chuckle and felt his head bounce on my chest. "Oh, sensitive, are you?" I felt his body tense up a little, but he wasn't fast enough. "Haumph!" My mouth wrapped around his ear, and I gently nibbled on it and flicked my tongue along the inside.

Braeburn gasped and shivered. "A-ah..." He started writhing on me, mashing his ear closer to my face where I could get easy access. He squirmed even more when I pushed my tongue deeper into his ear. "O-oh!" When I kept going and started moving my tongue in circles, he jerked his head away and sat up, quivering and smiling. "L-little much, Soar."

I rubbed his back again and cooed at him, "So, my little earth pony's got ticklish ears." I winked at him. "I'm gonna remember that, you know."

He snickered and poked my stomach. "Well, keep in mind, it goes both ways, lover colt."

I tilted my head back and smirked. "Good. Bucking. Luck."

He cocked his head to the side. "What, you ain't ticklish?"

I got a small laugh out of him when I gave my best Big Mac impression. "Nnnnnope!"

Braeburn narrowed his eyes and scanned me up and down. I knew what he was thinking, but it wasn't going to work. Nopony had ever successfully tickled me before. Believe me, they'd tried.

He started by running a hoof along the inside of my hip, then jerked his head towards me to see if I'd reacted. Nothing. It felt nice and a little tingly, but I wasn't laughing. I kept a sly grin on my face, daring him to find a spot.

"Hm..." He rubbed his chin, acting all contemplative, then all of a sudden, he jammed a hoof under my foreleg. "Gotcha!"

I just smiled and lay still.

He paused, waiting for me to break. I didn't, and he sighed. "Dang it. Hm..." He bent his head down and started kissing my stomach. I tensed my muscles just a little before he blew a raspberry on me. He felt me flinch. His head shot up, his face beaming. "See! Ticklish."

I shook my head at him. "That's not ticklish. That's just a reflex. Plus, I'm not laughing."

"Fine." He stuck out his lower lip, then scooted down the bed. I lifted my head to see him pick up one of my hind hooves and give me a devilish little smile. I kept cool. That was the one place he might have had a shot, but I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction.

Slowly, painfully slowly, he reached a hoof under mine, finding that one spot. You know, that spot that never touches the ground when you run. He stared at me, unblinking, waiting for me to falter.

I'll admit, it tickled, but he wasn't going to win. I kept a straight, slightly strained face. I felt my pulse quicken, and my muscles wanted to start spasming. Braeburn's eyes went a little wider, and he wore an open-mouthed smile, so I must have been getting red-faced. But I had my forelegs at my sides, and I stared him down.

"Aw, phooey." He dropped my hoof. "You win." He looked a little dejected, but he was still smiling.

"I always win, babe. The sooner you realize that, the better."

He looked my way again and stuck his tongue out at me. I loved it.

"So, what's my prize?"

Braeburn looked up and to the side, then brushed some of his mane away from his face. It fell right back to where it had been – right in that perfect spot. It always fell that way. He looked back to me and gave me a warm smile, but he didn't say anything as he shuffled up the bed and straddled me. He placed his forehooves on either side of my head.

I'll never forget that look. His eyes were half-closed, his lips were a little parted, and he blinked rapidly. It was coy. It was a little shy. It was all the desire and affection in the world. He was trying to be cute for me, and it was working. The shadows from his mane fell across his face, and he got all dreamy-eyed as he slowly leaned forward again.

I reached up and wrapped my forelegs around his middle as he drew closer. We opened our mouths at the same time, and we both took in a short breath and closed our eyes right before we kissed again. It was slower this time. Sensual. Smoldering. His lips were warm and soft, and I sucked his face like it was some kind of life-giving substance. His tongue, that amazing tongue, danced along with mine.

Then, it one quick motion, his tongue stuck straight out and ran along the roof of my mouth.

I had a freaking fit! "AAAAHAHAHA!!!" I spasmed and writhed and laughed and laughed and laughed. Thank Luna Braeburn pulled away before I bit down. I couldn't control myself! My whole body started shaking. And the feeling didn't even go away! I laughed and laughed and laughed, and it took me freaking forever to calm down.

I had to wipe away the tears in my eyes. When I finally looked up at Braeburn, he was staring at me with a sweet, innocent smile and half-lidded eyes. He even did the double-eyebrow-lift thing at me. "I win."

I was in paradise. I reached up a hoof and brought his head in for me to nuzzle. "Yeah, yeah, okay. You win."

He nuzzled my face again, then pressed his forehead against mine. "So, what's my prize?"

I smirked back, and after we'd caught our breath, I gave it to him.

Chapter 20 - Hot Off the Presses

* * * * *

Soarin's cheeks are flushed. He's looking down, but the sides of his mouth are curled up in a way that warms me inside. He breathes slowly, his muscles look relaxed, and he still has that glow about him. His mouth hangs open for a bit, and after a long pause, he finally speaks. "It's, uh…" He rubs one of his forelegs with his opposite hoof. "It's probably my favorite part of the story." Such a soft voice, too. It's gentle. It's tender. It conveys a sense of serenity that I rarely find in these interviews.

I smile, too, and I savor the lingering stillness. The world is frozen as the scene plays over and over in my head and my heart, this idea of the two of them in each other's embraces, finally willing to let go of their inhibitions and get what they want. I don't speak, lest I disturb the delicate crystalline image in my mind that I secretly hope will last forever.

I want to hug him, to somehow connect and show my appreciation for telling me something so intimate. And I don't even want to think about writing right now. Not a book deal, not an article, nothing. As far as I know, he hasn't opened up to any other author like this, but I don't care. I just want to hug him.

Then again, I really don't want to stand up right now. Is indecent exposure a crime in Cloudsdale?

Deep breath. "That sounds… incredible, frankly. I… Thank you."

Soarin' looks up and nods at me, and he says in a slow, even voice, "You're welcome."

A thought creeps into my mind: a tiny crack racing along the edge of my beautiful illusion. I try to call back images of Soarin' and Braeburn cuddling, cheek to cheek and without a care, but the crack spreads to a fracture. "It's a great story." I look down and knead at the cloud we lie on. The back of my neck has begun sweating in the sun.

Soarin' notices my trepidation. "You okay?" Still soft, but with a touch of hesitation.

"But…" I look up at him.

His eyes have lost some of their radiance. He knows what's bothering me, and he knows what I'm about to say, so he finishes for me. "But that's not how it ends."

My illusion shatters.

I nod. "I wish it was."

Soarin' closes his eyes and tilts his head skyward. He sighs. "You and me both." His wings flap out once, blowing wisps of cloud along my body. With a small shift of his weight, he readjusts himself and speaks to me again. "See, ponies have these ideas about us. They think that once you become a Wonderbolt, then everything starts going your way. You won't have any problems. You just fly around a few times a week and let everypony love you. The job's nice, sure, but…" He bites his lower lip and bobs his head back and forth a few times. Looking for words, maybe? After a moment, he finds them. "…but ponies on the outside see it as this ideal life. Not that that's a bad thing. We make a lot of bits selling them that image."

I crack my neck. "They need it, though. Some of them need to dream that one day, if they believe hard enough, everything will turn around for them and their problems will disappear." I feel both fear and relief when I realize I'm injecting my own opinions into the conversation, that I'm perhaps shedding some of my professionalism. "What did Braeburn say about his orchard? It helps them get through the tough days."

"Yeah," he says, nodding. "They need hope. Right. And…" He's rubbing his foreleg and speaking softly again. "And it's not just flying with the Wonderbolts. It's… romance, too." His eyes flicker up to me, but he has trouble maintaining eye contact. His ears are pressed against his head, and his tail flicks from side to side. He cracks a smile. "Heh heh. You know those words that just feel weird in your mouth? Those words you never say 'cuz you don't wanna…" He shrugs. "I dunno, sound too fruity?"

Screw objective professionalism. "I don't really like that word. It makes it seem like there's something wrong with saying how you really feel. I think a lot of our problems as a society could be fixed if we were a little more honest." I shift in place. "Of course, then we'd have to collectively give up on some of our delusions."

"Right. Everypony wants to believe that you find your soul mate after a long search, and you have your first kiss or you sleep together for the first time or whatever, and then everything is fine. They keep hoping the story will just end, right when the heroes fall for each other, and they'll live happily ever after. Only…" He trails off and looks away.

My words are suddenly very heavy in my throat. "Only that's not how the world works." He's quiet, and I continue. "You keep on living, even when the moment passes and everything begins to fall apart."

Soarin' takes a long, scrutinizing look at his forelegs. They sit there, the same color as the rest of his coat but lacking the muscle mass of an athlete. They are recovering but still enfeebled, skinny little things that act as a constant reminder of his accident. "Yeah," he says flatly, a sudden rumble in his voice. "You do."

Don't dwell. "So." The pieces of my illusion have blown away in the wind and become naught but a memory of a memory. I worry about how much time I'll spend chasing them, but I can't let us get bogged down now. The sun has crested and moved past its zenith, and there is still so much more I need to hear. "Sunday morning, then."

Soarin' chuckles bitterly. "Heh heh. You know, I could probably forgive the press for a lot, but I'll never get over how they won't let a guy sleep in."

* * * * *

Zip zip zip

…

Click.

I woke up slowly, a little bit at a time. The first thing I remember is taking a deep breath and inhaling that scent. It was the smell I'd wanted to wake up to since that stormy night at Honeycrisp's farm: a mix of me and Braeburn that told the whole story by itself. I swear I could still feel the endorphins in my veins. They mulled and smoldered in my blood, and I was happy to let them keep going. My hips were still sore, but in a really, reeeeally satisfying way.

I could still taste him, too. I probably had rancid morning breath, but my mouth still tasted just a little like him. I even ran my tongue along the roof of my mouth, too, and shuddered at the feeling. My eyes were still closed, but I could feel the gentle tug of the sheets with each breath he took. Yeah…

I could hear him breathing. With every breath, he made this tiny sound – it was barely anything at all. It was like a squeak or a hum or a moan, and he sounded comfortable.

Zip zip zip

…

Click.

I cracked open an eye. My vision was blurry, but some of the morning light poured in from the window behind me, and Braeburn's face quickly took shape, just like at the orchard. He lay there mostly under the blankets with one hoof up near his head. A few shadows danced across his face, and his eyes flickered beneath his eyelids, fighting off the sun.

I didn't want him to have to wake up, so I carefully raised one wing from under the sheets to shade his face. His eyes stopped twitching.

I watched him like that for a while. Maybe it sounds creepy, but waking up and watching somepony you care about still asleep? It's amazing. It's probably the most intimate thing you can do with somepony without touching them. We stayed that way for a while: me slowly coming back to consciousness with one wing raised and him still peacefully asleep.

About the time my wing started getting stiff, Braeburn sucked in a large, loud breath and let out long moan. "Mmm…" With a few quick blinks, his eyes half opened, and a smile spread across his face. His voice was raspy. "So it wasn't just a wonderful dream."

My voice was pretty quiet, too. "Nope. All real." I reached out with a hoof and began stroking his face, over and over again down his cheek and to his chin.

"Mmm…" He chuckled and closed his eyes. He let me keep stroking him for a long time, and he only opened his eyes again after I stopped. "Mornin', beautiful."

"Morning, Braeburn." I scooted over, flared out my wings to shield us from the light, and rolled on top of him.

Zip zip zip. Click.

"Dammit."

We were wrapped up in our own little world, still feeling everything from the night before. My body felt heavy, but I let myself lie down on him. He didn't mind. I stroked his hip with one foreleg and wrapped the other between his head and the pillow. Leaning down, I brought him forward, closed my eyes, and pressed our lips together.

There's a kind of sweetness to that first kiss in the morning. Not to run a cliché into the ground, but's like apple pie – it's warm and mild and complex with just a little spiciness. Your body hasn't fully woken up yet, and your senses can only really guess what's happening, but in a way, that's even better. There's nothing else in the world to distract you from enjoying him, from… reliving everything as you slowly suckle on his mouth and roll your tongues around together. Your head feels like it's floating away, and your body wants to be close again. It wants to absorb all the warmth that radiates off of him and hold it inside forever. I liked waking up that way. It made every morning wonderful.

You know something? You were right. It's not too fruity to talk about this stuff. We had something special that morning, and I'm damn sure it made me feel good inside. I'm glad we got to have that moment.

But every moment needs to end, no matter how wonderful. I pulled away from our kiss and rested my forehead on his. It hurt my neck, but getting to just lie there and breathe each other in was the most important thing to me that morning, and I wanted him to know it. "Braeburn, you're the most–"

Zip zip zip
Click-FLASH

A burst of light filtered through my wings, and Braeburn pulled his head away to face the source. "The hell was that?"

"Huh. Don't know. Are there–" I squirmed and tensed up suddenly. I knew what it was.

Braeburn twitched under me. "Geez, Soarin'! What is it?"

"Uh…" I looked down at his chest. 'Damn, that's nice.' I thought about burying my face in it again, but then I shook my head and snapped back to reality. I kept my wings carefully in place to obscure the window as I looked back Braeburn. "You're already out to everypony, right?"

His head stayed rock-solid. "Appleloosa, my immediate family, and some of my cousins." He cocked an eyebrow. "Why?"

I gulped and squeezed him tightly, afraid that he'd knock me off of him and expose himself. My voice got really high pitched and fast, and I slowly turned my head. "Eeeeeever wonder what it's like to be famous?" My face scrunched up.

His pupils constricted. "Tell me it isn't."

"Okay, it isn't." When he kept staring at me, I was forced to add, "But it totally is."

He blinked about a million times in two seconds, then violently shook his head and stared at me. "What? Soarin', I don't want my face all over the papers. What if they say somethin' bad about me?" He gasped a little. "Aw, geez! What if they slander the town?" He pressed a hoof to my chest. "Shit! Soarin' don't let 'em get any pictures! We gotta get rid of 'em!"

I nodded and slowed down my breathing back to a normal pace. I knew I needed to be calm for him – he hadn't had to deal with the press before, and I had. "Okay. Here's what you do: take a deep breath and shimmy down under me."

"Soarin', I'm not blowin' you right now!" He was totally serious, too. Never question the logic of a groggy, panicking pony.

I gave his forehead a quick kiss. "Cute, but no. I just need you to hide under the covers."

"Oh." He blushed and turned his head away. "Alright, then." He sucked in a deep breath and, after I'd arched my body up, he scooted down the bed and faced away from the window, covering his face with a section of the blanket.

My mind raced, but you don't get to be captain of the Wonderbolts without knowing how to think on your hooves. I grabbed the pillow Braeburn had been resting on and hitched up my wings.

Zip zip zip

'Steady,' I told myself. I peeked through a small break in my feathers, and I could see him – an orange pegasus with a giant, fancy camera aimed directly at us. His hoof was moving to the button.

I waited.

…

He lifted the camera to his face.

I waited.

…

His wingbeat faltered, and he dropped halfway down the window.

I fired the pillow at the window. "Asshole!"

Click-FLASH! "Hey!"

I kicked my way off the bed and hitched up my wings.

Zip

I bolted to the window just as the pillow made contact with the glass. It cracked a little.

Zip

I rotated my wings back to stop myself right by the glass, right in his face, close enough to see his awful beard.

Zip

I reached for the curtains on either side of the window.

He jerked his hoof to the shutter button…

…and I yanked the curtains closed, nearly pulling the rod off the wall!

Click-FLASH! "Dammit!"

Fanart by Soarburn_Forever (FIM Fiction| Deviant Art)

I flapped and landed half a trot back. My eyes rapidly scanned the edges of the curtains, looking for any place he could see inside, but there were no clear lines of sight. When I was satisfied with my work, I let out a breath and plopped onto the floor with a loud sigh. I finally relaxed my muscles.

"Soarin', who the hell was that?"

…aaaaaand immediately tensed back up.

Braeburn shuffled out from under the covers. "Some pervert from one of those rag magazines or somethin'?"

It took me longer than I'd like to admit, but I turned around to see a slumped-over golden earth pony staring back at me in the dim light that filtered through the curtains. His eyes were droopy. His frown was wide and open-mouthed, and his mane was an absolute mess with individual strands of hair sticking out all over the place. His fur was matted down. He wobbled, and he sounded like he had to blow his nose.

And he was still the most beautiful pony in Equestria. I didn't want to make him sad.

Braeburn cleared his throat and asked again. "Sorry. Why in Equestria would some reporter follow you all the way out here? W–" He paused and stared at me for a moment. "Were you trying to get some publicity or somethin'? Y-you weren't…" He leaned forward a little. "…right?"

The shakiness in his voice pierced me to the core. I think he worried I was using him, and I quickly spat out a bunch of explanations. "Dude, no! I hate those guys. They're parasites. I always try to avoid them. They just latch on whenever they think they have a story. They're barely even ponies!"

"Then why'd they follow you all the way out here?"

I shrank a little, closed my eyes hard, and shook my head. "I-I don't know! I mean, paparazzi only follow hot stories, and they wouldn't have any reason to–"

My eyes shot open. It felt like I'd swallowed a mountain.

Braeburn gave me a moment, but when I stayed silent, he asked, "Reason to what?"

I made the mistake of looking directly into those big, pleading eyes. They wrenched more words out of me, just to make it stop. "To want a picture of a Wonderbolt that unexpectedly missed a show."

"But you're on vacation." His head rocked back and forth a few times, and he gestured with a hoof. "Why would they care? I mean, it's pretty normal, right?"

I couldn't look at him anymore. "I… not… exactly." Everything on me drooped, and my wings brushed against the floor.

"Soarin'?" He spoke slowly, like he knew what was coming. "What's goin' on?"

"I sorta…" The words were like rocks I my throat. "…got temporarily c-cut from the team."

…

It was quiet.

"You lied to me."

I was crushed. My thoughts raced with images of his face on a tabloid, front and center, under a headline about "Soarin's Secret Lover."

"You lied to me."

I looked up again. My ears stayed flat against my skull.

He started blinking a lot and looking all around the room, and his breathing picked up. "Soarin', that ain't right. T'ain't right at all." He looked down at the bed and took a few deep breaths. "How many were there?"

I relaxed a little. "Just one. Pegasus dude. Keep it down, though. He might still be there." I tried to listen for flapping, but the blood pumping in my ears drowned out everything else.

Braeburn nodded and opened his eyes. "Well, the sheriff can probably give us a hoof, at least. He'll be on his way soon enough, and we can all move on, even if some trashy magazine has a… a-a few words about us." He shook his head and whispered, "Oh, Celestia…"

He didn't get it. Of course he didn't get it. "Uh, Braeburn?" I bit into my tongue when he gave me a hesitant look. I almost didn't say anything, but…

Braeburn snorted and furrowed his eyebrows. "You're thinkin' of lyin' to me again, ain't ya'?"

"S-sorry." I sat up and pointed a hoof at him. "Brae, what do you think happens next?" I'd asked slowly and quietly. Deep down, I hoped he already knew.

His voice was flat. "What do you mean?"

"That reporter is… probably just the first."

I almost didn't hear him respond. "…what."

"Once his agency finds out where I am, they'll be all over this place. I mean, I'm surprised there aren't more of them already."

His eyes grew wide, and I suddenly felt like I was trapped in a sinking ship. "No, they…" He chuckled nervously. "Heh heh. They wouldn't be interested in a small town like Appleloosa, right?"

I could practically see the front page: Fallen Star Retreats to Desert Hideaway! "They will be if they think a washed-up celebrity is hiding here." I tried to keep my voice as even as possible.

Braeburn didn't. "Dammit!" He punched the bed. "What the hell is wrong with them? Ponies are just tryin' to live peacefully out here, away from all that bullshit!" He leapt off the bed and paced around the room. He was rambling again, but much more violently, and his hooves shook the floor with every stomp. "Why they gotta disturb everypony out here? Ugh, this is gonna be hell for our tourism. And what the buck am I supposed to tell the townsponies? Oh, sorry, some bugs are flyin' around. Just swat 'em and pray they don't publish all your personal information. Hope you don't mind losin' your privacy. Ha!"

"Braeburn, I–"

He whipped his head towards me. There was fire in his eyes, and he pointed them straight at me, his voice booming. "That kinda sudden exposure kills small towns, Soarin'! Always happens – buncha city ponies see a popular location in the paper, and in two shakes of your tail we've got all manner a tycoons buying up land and runnin' everypony off!" His voice shook, and he was on the verge of tears. "Everythin' I worked for – everythin' we worked for – gone! Poof! Just like magic! And don't get me started on what everypony's gonna say! They'll be on my case the moment I step outside – about how 'see what you did' and 'told you the tourists were bad news.' Soarin', I might not even have a home anymore!"

I couldn't move.

"What, that big mouth o' yours suddenly out of words? Oh, right, you wouldn't tell the truth, anyway! I'm in a heap o' trouble, Soarin', and it's all your–"

I froze like ice. My teeth clenched, and the silence was worse than the screaming. I had brought them there. He was right.

But his expression softened, and the fire died down. "T-this is…" He paused again and cleared his throat. He frowned. "This is some bad luck, ain't it?" He dove back onto the bed and buried his face in the mattress with a sigh. "Just awful."

It was like that moment between when you see the lightning and hear the thunder. Only the thunder never came, and that anticipation took a long time to fade away.

I finally found my voice. "Sorry. You're right. It's my fau–"

"Oh, don't you start." He sighed again, rolled onto his back, and covered his face with a foreleg. "How'd they find you, anyway? Can't imagine you advertised your lack of employment."

"I don't know." I lay down and curled up, thinking back to all the little details from my trip. 'Holli wouldn't have told anyone I'd been cut. Must have been one of the 'Bolts. Ugh. Figures. But how did they find me?' I grunted and decided to say something before Braeburn started worrying again. "I didn't tell anypony I was coming here. I bought my ticket at the bank and left, and the only time I was in public very long was when I stopped to eat some–"

A moment came flooding back: my mad dash from the restaurant to the train at the last second, when I saw a camera flash from a leery-eyed unicorn at the Manehatten train station. "…shit."

Braeburn let out a harsh chuckle. "And they say country ponies have weird appetites."

I looked up. "What?" I didn't get it.

"Never mind." His foreleg was still over his eyes. "What happened?"

"Somepony snagged a picture of me at the Manehatten train station. Probably a paparazzo. If they'd recognized me and been any good at their job, they could have easily tailed me to Canterlot and seen me dash to the train to Appleloosa. Wouldn't have been too hard." I settled back down into a little ball. "He probably went back to his publishing company, and they probably sent that reporter guy."

"Were you wearin' a disguise?"

I knew he wouldn't approve, but no more lies, right? "Just my sports cap."

I heard him mumble, "Nopony appreciates good hats these days."

I didn't know what to do, so I just lay there, letting my thoughts spin in circles.

A few minutes later, we heard a knock.

Braeburn sat bolt upright, and I jumped to my hooves. My eyes shot to the door, and my heart stopped when I saw it was unlocked. Yeah, I know. If somepony had wanted to barge in, they wouldn't have knocked. Cut me some slack, though. I was stressed.

Still, I finally unclenched my jaw when a low, familiar voice rumbled through the door. "Soarin'? It's Slate. You up?" He paused. "I'm alone."

My stomach sank. If he knew to say he was alone, then something had to be up.

I trotted over to the door and swung it open. His familiar grey coat was a welcome sight, and he had a small saddlebag over his back. "Come in. Quick." I stepped aside and waved him in, shutting the door behind him.

"Mornin'. Sorry to bother you this early, but–" He stopped in his tracks, and I turned around just in time to see Braeburn give him an awkward smile.

"Uh… Hi, Slate." Braeburn grabbed the sheet and gave a weird little wave. It was adorable. "You, uh… You look well."

Slate's nostrils flared. His nose wrinkled, and it became painfully obvious that our scent wasn't as appealing to everypony else as it was to me. I wished we could have let some air in. Slate blinked a few times and shook his head. "Glad to see you here," he said in a monotone.

I stepped up next to him. "You are? Why?" I chuckled. "Braeburn needed to get some that badly?"

A pillow hit the side of my face. At least I'd cut the tension a little.

"Naw. Was worried he was trapped in his own house."

Braeburn leaned forward. "W… What do you mean?"

"Big ol' crowd of ponies swarmin' the place. Silverstar and a few others are trying to kick 'em off your property, but no luck. Good thing you lock your doors and keep your curtains closed, I reckon."

Braeburn's face went white. "Did they… bother anypony? What do the tourists think? A-and the townsponies?"

Slate nodded solemnly. "They pestered everypony all mornin'. Somepony let it slip that they saw you go home with Soarin' last night. A lotta the folks 'round here are downright pissed."

Braeburn took a few shaky breaths. "You got your flask?"

Slate paused for a moment. "Yeah." He sounded unsure. "Yeah, I suppose." He reached into his saddlebag and tossed Braeburn a small metal container. "It's yours anyway, Brae. I'm still workin' through the stuff you gave me a couple weeks back."

With practiced hooves, Braeburn twisted the flask open and tilted it all the way back. He suckled on it like a newborn foal, and as he chugged, I saw his breathing slow down and his muscles relax. He drained the whole thing.

And I felt so, so inadequate. I wanted to be the one to comfort him and tell him it would be okay, but no. He didn't want my shoulder. He wanted some booze.

Braeburn finished with a big sigh. "Nelly…" A little of it dripped down his chin. He wiped it off with his foreleg. "So what do we do?"

Slate turned to me and asked, "Any chance they can be reasoned with?"

I shook my head. "Hell no. They're in it for the bits, and they won't leave until they get something juicy. They're here to stay."

Braeburn was tracing a hoof along the sheets. "Meanwhile, everypony in town's gotta put up with 'em." He mumbled something else. I think it was something about blame, but I couldn't hear. Slate and I both waited for him to keep going. Braeburn spoke slowly. Sadly. "They'll keep takin' pictures and disruptin' the harvests and bringin' in the tycoons and ruinin' everything." He looked up. "They're after both of us, right? Not just you?"

I nodded.

Braeburn looked toward the covered window, and a thin ray of light draped across his face. "Then we have to leave."

Braeburn once told me that trees need to stay planted, that you can't just move them around all the time and expect them to bloom. He hadn't been talking about trees. Sweet Luna, I wish I'd known how much it hurt him to say 'leave.' Maybe it wouldn't have changed anything, but at least I could have comforted him some more or something.

Instead, I just said, "Yeah, okay. How?" I was too focused on escaping. My wings itched and my stomach felt knotted. I wanted to fly just to work off the energy.

Slate spoke up. "Figured you might want to turn tail for a while. The Sunday train pulls out at ten."

"Sunday train?"

"Mostly for the tourists," Braeburn explained. "We were able to get the schedule modified a little. Some of the tourists just wanted a weekend getaway."

I smirked at him. "And by 'we,' you mean 'you,' right?"

He blushed and ran a hoof through his mane. "Well, yeah." He was smiling – just barely – and that made everything just a little better. "Any idea how we sneak outta here?"

Slate sat down. "Already talked to Minute Hoof." He turned his head toward me. "That's the conductor, Soarin'. She's a fine lady. Says you two can stow away in the front car until you're out of town."

"Slate…" Braeburn fidgeted and looked down. We both faced him. "I, uh… I… don't want my face in the papers." He paused. "You get it, right?"

Slate sighed and nodded. "Of course."

I took half a step forward. I had a plan. "Then we should disappear for a while. If we let them know there's no story here, they'll have no reason to stay. Meanwhile, we skip town for someplace we can be anonymous."

Braeburn cocked his head to the side. "Where?"

"Las Pegasus."

We worked out the rest of the plan: I'd create a distraction just before ten, and Braeburn would sneak to the train. Slate would keep the photographer outside our window busy, and one of his friends would be at the train to help Braeburn get in unseen. I gave Slate the name of a hotel the Wonderbolts always stay at, and he said he'd mail us some of Braeburn's stuff. When I offered to pay, he refused. We had it all figured out. Slate left to distract the photographer, and we had about half an hour to kill.

As soon as the door had shut, Braeburn gave me a flat, "Hold me."

I looked over at him. He was still on the bed. "What?"

His eyebrows were knit, and his mouth had flat-lined. "Get over here and hold me," he grumbled. He lay down on the bed with his back facing the window.

I walked over and slipped under the covers, spooning him. We stayed like that for a long time. I breathed in his mane and didn't say anything. Whatever he was going through, I figured I was too far removed, and the best I could do was just be there for him. At least he hadn't asked for another drink.

A long time passed. Braeburn broke the silence first. "You know, daddy always said that coltcuddlers get run outta town."

I felt a pang in my chest. Reflexively, I kissed the back of his neck and squeezed him. "Brae, that's not what's happening. We're leaving, sure, but it's not because you're gay. Everypony here loves you." I wrapped my wing around his middle. "I just messed everything up." I could feel him deflate in my forelegs, so I tried to be perky again. "Don't worry, though! Las Pegasus will be great! And we'll get out of here without any photos. Promise."

He scooted back into me a little further. We stayed like that until it was time to pack up and go.

I waited by the door while Braeburn packed the last of our stuff into our saddlebags. Six rhythmic knocks rapped on the door. It was safe. I slipped out. Daisy Springs was there, and she gave me a nod and led me out the kitchen door onto one of Appleloosa's side streets.

There was a high wind that day coming from the west, blowing dust and sand along the road. It was already getting hot, and I hadn't eaten or gotten any water. Terrible flying conditions, but I didn't have a choice. I galloped a little to pick up speed, then launched myself up into the air, flying in the opposite direction from Braeburn's house to cover my tracks.

The wind picked up even more. My wings strained from the effort of going at max speed from a cold start, and my pulse pounded as I flew against the wind. I wasn't there to enjoy it, though, and I wasn't there for training. I had a mission.

A few hundred meters up, I doubled back and headed for Braeburn's house. It wasn't hard to spot – it was the house at the edge of town, and holy cow were there a lot of colorful dots around it. They were swarming the place, some of them hovering a little in the air. You may think it's impossible to see small differences like that, but you need perfect vision to be in the Wonderbolts. Discriminatory? Maybe, but noticing small details quickly can be the difference between somepony dying and just getting away with another concussion.

I glanced down to the train station. Ponies were lining up to get on. I circled in the air like a buzzard, blue coat against the blue sky, waiting.

Below, a few of the dots were trying to push the others away. They were the good guys – they all had hats.

I looped around again, shakily maintaining a holding pattern in the deafening winds. The seconds took hours to tick by, but eventually, I saw a little golden pony with a brown vest and hat creep out the back of the hotel. It was time to move.

Quickly, I spiraled downward. 'Okay. Interview face. Don't let 'em see you sweat.' I psyched myself up – I had to convince them I was there to see Braeburn. 'Single-minded. Ignore their questions. They won't look away if they think the door will open. I just–' Something tugged at my hoof. "Hey!"

My eyes shot down to my hoof in time to see a faint blue aura disappear. Can you believe it? One of those assholes tried to pull me down with magic! That's so illegal! I hate those freaking media ponies.

Oh. No offense. I mean… you know what I mean.

Anyway, I had their attention. The swarm all gathered at the porch and moved around beneath me. Their murmur grew into a loud roar as I finally found a spot to land, right in the middle of a tight ring of a dozen or so ponies.

"Mr. Windsong! Is it true you've been dishonorably discharged?" Flash flash!

"Soarin', who is Braeburn? And how long have you been having this affair?"

"What does Sapphire Shores think of all this?"

"How will this affect the upcoming season?"

"Will Fire Streak officially take over your responsibilities as captain?"

'Don't react,' I thought. I remembered all the coaching we got at the academy and all the times I'd had to put it to use before. 'Walk towards the door, a few steps at a time. Don't look at anypony directly. They won't touch you if you go slowly.' I knew the rules, and so did they. As ruthless as they were, they knew what would get them arrested or, worse, get their agency permanently banned from interviews.

I made it to Braeburn's front door. 'Make it count.' I took a big, showy breath and let it out slowly. As I lifted a hoof, a hush fell over the crowd. Two knocks against the wood. Their cameras were pointed right at me. Another deep breath. "Braeburn? Braeburn, it's okay. Let me in." I had to choose my words carefully. They were already going to call Braeburn reclusive, and I needed to keep my words generic enough that they wouldn't have anything else to go by. "Braeburn? C'mon, please?"

Another wave of pictures. I knocked again, more loudly this time. The pictures stopped, and the mob behind me pushed in again.

"I said you folks gotta go! I have the authority to arrest every single one of you!" Good old Silverstar. He never let anything like the facts keep him from doing his job. I wondered if he even knew where Braeburn was.

A loud whistle pierced the air. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the train lurch forward and start heading north. I made my move. With a few quick flaps of my wings, I was hovering, and I moved to the south side of the house and up to the second-story window. A few of the reporters stayed by the door, but predictably, most of them followed me over. 'Perfect.' I pressed my face up against the glass, and two pegasus reporters hovered right next to me, one snapping pictures and the other waiting for something they'd never get. "Braaaaaaeburn. Braeburn?"

It was hard to hear with the house in the way, but the sound of the train's wheels rumbled quieter and quieter. I wanted to go, but I still had to wait. I told myself that letting it get out of earshot would be good enough – it would be a bitch to catch up to, but I knew I was the only one there that could even do it.

Doing my best to slump and look sad, I lowered myself to the ground and closed my eyes. In no time at all, they had me surrounded, babbling questions as fast as they could.

I held up a hoof. "I'll take questions now." I only had to buy a few more seconds, and the train would be too far gone for anypony but a top athlete to catch. I opened my eyes and pointed to a random pink pony.

"Soarin', we've heard a lot in the last few days. Who's Braeburn, and why isn't he answering the door?"

I took a few deep breaths. It was time to have fun. I made my lip quiver, pretended to sob, and spoke in a shaky voice. "I…" Pencils scratched paper. Pathetic, right? It was only one word! "I-I don't know." More furious scratching from a lot of wide-eyed, smiling ponies. I could see the gears turning in their heads, each one thinking of the best way to spin the story. I cranked up the sadness even more, and I even got my eyes to water a little. "It's p-probably… b-because…"

They leaned in, ready for my big heartbreak.

I perked up and gave 'em a big smile. "He's already left town!" Before they could react, I snapped out my wings, shouted, "Later, assholes!" and bolted into the sky, leaving them all coughing in a huge cloud of dust. As soon as I crested the top of the house, I was gone, and the pegasi that tried to follow me didn't stand a chance.

A Wonderbolt needs a lot of endurance, but we're good sprinters, too. A couple minutes of flying later, I saw the train, and I saddled up next to it. Now, landing on a moving runway is tough. The wind resistance shifts out of nowhere, you have to brace yourself for the change in velocity, and so many things can go wrong. I'd done stunts like this before, though, so I knew what to look out for. The train was only four cars long. I picked the first passenger car, and after four careful attempts, I managed to stumble onto it with all my parts intact. I crawled along the top to the front, climbed down the ladder, and knocked on the pilot car door.

It opened, and I was face-to-face with a grey pony in a crisp blue suit. She spoke in quick, clipped words and seemed to even blink efficiently. "Mr. Windsong, yes? Come in. Braeburn is here." She stepped aside to let me in with military precision.

I was so relieved to see Braeburn there that I didn't notice he was frowning.

The conductor didn't have time for feelings. "You are permitted to stay here until I return. I must collect tickets, and I will ensure the cars are free of reporters. It is my job to ensure your safety. Enjoy your ride." She disappeared behind me and shut the door, leaving only me and Braeburn in the cramped, dirty car.

I took a step forward, breathing a little heavily from my flight. "So, mission accomplished?"

"Not quite." His cold tone stopped me in my tracks. He looked up at me with wet eyes. "One of 'em caught me gettin' on the train. Looks like I'm gonna be famous."

"What?" I was welded in place. "No. No no no."

Braeburn was quiet.

And I lost it. "Dammit!" I stomped, sending a loud ring echoing through the room. "Those jerks! Ugh!" My jaw tensed up, and I swore, and I punched one of the walls. I don't know what had gotten to me more: the fact that Braeburn was sad, or that the press had gotten the best of me. Honestly, I think it was mostly the latter. I hated that. "Dammit! After all that? They just can't–" I caught sight of Braeburn.

He was slumped down, eyes dull and dark like a doll somepony had thrown aside. His whole body was limp, and even though he was still breathing, his body looked completely still. He looked weakened. Broken.

It hit me. Braeburn had been through this before, having somepony he cared about and trusted freak out at him, overreact about something he thought was his fault, and his emotional defense was to shut down. My heart split in half thinking about him all those times Bronze must have yelled at him and… gotten violent, all those times Braeburn had felt hopeless and weak. And I imagined he'd felt the same after I'd told him to say hi to his dresses.

That memory rattled me to the core, and there we were again – me yelling and throwing a fit and taking it out on him. I shook my head. 'No,' I thought. 'I have to be better than Bronze.' I gave myself a few seconds of stillness to calm down, and I asked him in the gentlest voice I could, "Hey, Braeburn?"

He didn't look at me.

"I'm sorry. I'll be okay. I shouldn't have freaked out." The space between us felt like it spanned all of Equestria. "It's… I bucked up." I lie down, covering my face with my wings. "I should have told you about the Wonderbolts. It's my fault."

Silence hung in the air for a moment, but Braeburn said, "I…" He sighed and nickered. "Soarin', I'm not angry about that, and there's no point in either of us mopin'."

I peeked out. "You're not mad?"

Braeburn rolled onto his back, gave a weak smile, looked at me, and patted his chest. His voice was soft and a little sad, but it still had that color that was all his. "C'mere, you. Let me play with that dirty mane of yours."

I think it comforted him to have something to fidget with. Just being there and not yelling, really, and letting him do what he needed to do. He was letting me be his comforter, and that raised me up like a hot wind at my back.

I scooted over and lay sideways with my head on his chest. His breathing was steady, and I felt like a little foal again. "But I didn't tell you the truth."

He ran his hooves along my head and neck, gently caressing and massaging the anger out of me. "Well, no, you didn't, but I get it." He rubbed a little around the base of my ears. "You had a secret. Somethin' you were ashamed of, and you were afraid somepony you cared about would be mad enough to hate you for it. Soarin', I've been there. Believe me. I get it." He craned his neck down, and I felt him nuzzle the top of my head. "And I forgive you. Just… don't do it again, promise?"

I rolled onto my stomach and stared at that broad, gorgeous chest of his before meeting his gaze. There was no judgment in those eyes. "I promise."

He smiled. "I believe you."

"You have to promise me something, too, though."

He cocked his head. "What is it?"

"If you're not happy…" I looked at him. "Like, if I'm doing something that makes you sad or I get too angry or something, and you're not happy, you have to tell me, okay? I… I wanna be better than Bronze." I flinched a little, but I was still looking at him.

He hesitated and tensed up, but he didn't respond.

"Promise?"

"…Yeah. Okay. I promise." He leaned back onto the dirty floor. "So, what's the story with the Wonderbolts? Anythin' else I should know?" When I didn't answer right away, he added, "I can keep rubbin' if it'll help."

I lay back down on him. "Thanks, Brae."

"No problem, Big Black."

I snorted and looked up to him. "Sooooo, I didn't disappoint, then?"

"Well…" He winked at me. "If you wanna be better than Bronze, you're off to a good start."

I leaned in and nuzzled under his chin. "You're the best, Braeburn." My whole body felt lighter, and I settled back onto his chest.

And I told him everything, from that night with Sapph to getting cut and wrecking my condo. He just kept massaging until the conductor eventually came back and kicked us out. We found a spot at the back of the train, where nopony could eavesdrop (or smell us), and I went over Holli and my trip to Appleloosa, and all the way up to getting Braeburn's door slammed in my face.

And he let me talk. He waited patiently, paid attention, and let me spill it all. He threw in a few little jokes here or there, and when I was finally finished, he smirked, shook his head, and said, "And they say celebrities have it easy."

"We do, honestly. I don't have to deal with a closed-minded town."

"They're not that bad, Soarin'. Yeah, they talk, and maybe a hoofful don't like the way I am, but they're not as judgmental as you think. Most of 'em just disagree with my policies or think I'm too promiscuous. They let the gay stuff roll off their backs." When I snickered, he jabbed me playfully. "Oh, you know what I mean. Really, though, they come around."

"Yeah, but ponies like Pridesong–"

"Are no exception. Heh heh. Who do you think Slate got to help me get on the train?"

I blinked. "Really?"

He nodded. "Uh-huh. He's mighty vocal about the tourists and the way I cater to Canterlot, and he certainly didn't like having a big-shot celebrity in town, but he's alright. Said I'd be missed and that I do a damn fine job, even if he doesn't always approve."

Ponies never stop surprising me. "Wow."

"Eeyup."

We both looked out the window to our right. Braeburn was in the window seat, and I leaned against him.

After a few minutes of letting our thoughts roll away with the scenery, he spoke up. "Never been to Las Pegasus before." He turned to face me. "You'll take care of me, right?"

"Always."

He leaned in for a quick kiss, and I obliged. We both quietly nickered and pressed our foreheads together, which turned into a long, warm hug. In spite of everything, we were together, and we were okay.

Chapter 21 - Las Pegasus Never Sleeps

Las Pegasus never sleeps. It's too busy wringing money out of everypony that comes through town, but dammit, there's no place like it in Equestria. I get to be whoever I want there – if I wanna play celebrity, I can schmooze at a club and sign autographs on the street. If I wanna blend in, I can keep my head down, dye my mane, and have fun at the casinos.

I wanted Braeburn to have that, too, and I wanted to be right there with him. He deserved it. After all the shit I'd put him through with the media and the yelling and everything, he deserved a good memory, and I wanted to give it to him.

Just… promise you won't judge me, okay?

We made a quick transfer at the Canterlot station. While we were there, Braeburn bought the tickets to Las Pegasus and picked us up a few raincoats to cover our cutie marks. I wanted to go with him, but he said he was happy to help out. At least he let me pay.

It was kinda nice traveling with somepony that isn't a celebrity for a change – they have a lot more mobility, and they're a lot less conspicuous than the managers or security that usually have to do stuff in public for us. For the time being, at least, his face hadn't hit the papers, and nopony was on the lookout for him. It made that first train ride way easier.

Me? I hid in the bathroom. I'd snuck into the first one I could find, wrapped up in Braeburn's vest and sweaty white shirt and hat. Meh. You do what you gotta do.

We'd gotten another personal sleeper car. Decent price, too. Ponies flock to Las Pegasus every day of the week, especially once spring rolls in. Fortunately, demand was low enough for the Monday 6AM train that we were able to nab something nice. The ride took all day, but we were able to keep ourselves entertained. Braeburn did still have the best ass this side of Canterlot, after all.

The sun had long set by the time the train came up to Las Pegasus. Braeburn noticed the weird glow on the landscape, and as we began to pull into town, he set his hat on the seat and stuck his head out the window. I remember his words exactly. "Whoa, Nelly! That's just too many lights!" He shouted back inside, "Soarin', you gotta come see this! Look!"

"Oh, I'm looking," I said, grinning. He had his forehooves hanging halfway out the window, and I was getting an eyeful of one of my favorite parts of him.

With the window open, I could hear the brakes on the train begin to squeak. The smell of cigar smoke and stale air rolled in through the window, and Braeburn pulled himself in when he began coughing. "Hoo!" He hacked again, and I reached over to shut the window. "Air seems a mite toxic, though."

"Eh, you'll get used to it. Just don't take too many deep breaths. Las Pegasus is a lot bigger than Appleloosa."

"Heh. Yeah, well…" The smile on his face faded. "I'll, uh, I'll try." He sat back in his seat and stared out the window, motionless. His body was rigid, like he'd seen the train go off the tracks and couldn't turn away.

I cocked my head to the side. "What's up?" When he didn't answer, I scooted a little closer and put a hoof on his shoulder, but he still didn't move. "Braeburn, what's wrong?"

He sighed. "Do you think they'll be okay, Soarin'?"

"What, the Appleloosans?" I set my hoof back down. "Yeah, they'll be fine. Most of the paparazzi have probably already left, and the rest won't take too long to realize there's nothing to report on there."

"Well, yeah, but who's gonna manage the orchard? Or write the letters to Canterlot?" He turned back to me with his head hung low. "What if they need me?"

'I need you,' I thought.

He kept looking at me.

"I…" The train was pulling into the station, and I felt myself frown as I searched for anything to say. "…am really, really bad at making you feel better, apparently."

Braeburn chuckled and smiled weakly. "Oh, might as well give it your best shot."

It took me a moment, but I found my voice. "They're resourceful. Yeah, they're definitely going to miss you, but they'll be okay for a little while until you come back. Besides, there's nothing you can do about it now, especially since contacting them could tip off the media. Might as well enjoy yourself and have a little vacation while you don't have any other choice, right?"

A warm nose brushed against my cheek, and Braeburn sat up a little straighter. "See? That wasn't bad at all."

I grabbed my saddlebag and put on my raincoat, and Braeburn put on his. Luckily for us, it was drizzling outside, so they didn't look too out of place. We switched hats, and nopony could have picked us out of a crowd.

Especially a crowd that size! Even on a Monday night, there were tons of ponies crowding and pushing past each other to get off the train and into the station. Braeburn pressed his side against mine as we stepped outside. Even through our rain gear, he was warm. He leaned in and shouted over the noise, "Best stick together, nice and close. Right, Big Blue?"

I didn't argue.

We got out of the station without any problems, and the drizzling night rain couldn't put a damper on Braeburn's spirits as we turned down the brightest street in town. We'd arrived at the strip, the main drag of Las Pegasus, and it had more swank than you could experience in a lifetime. "My stars! Look at it all!" Braeburn froze in place, and his lower jaw nearly hit the dirt. His eyes darted from a glitzed-out replica of the Neighful Tower to the big, pyramid-shaped hotel to the colored lights advertising everything from "the best buffet in town" to "Mares, Mares, Mares!" I had to nudge him to keep him moving out of everypony's way, and he practically shook as he took those small steps. A wide smile threatened to break out of both sides of his face. "They've got everything here! It's even better than the pictures!" Music spilled onto the street from every building, and after a minute, Braeburn swung around to me. "Can we see it all, Soarin'?"

He was already threatening to break our cover by using my real name, but I couldn't say no to that face. I threw one forehoof around his shoulder and made a big, sweeping gesture with the other. "We're not just gonna see it, dude. We're gonna take it!"

He snorted. "You goof," he squeaked out through a bunch of loud laughter.

"Hey! Don't wreck the moment."

"Fine. YEE-HAW!" Braeburn reared up and flailed his forelegs out in front of him, and before I knew it, we were galloping down the strip, laughing and drinking in all the lights and sounds and smells Las Pegasus had to offer.

Yeah, I'd planned on going straight to the hotel. I knew everything that we had to do: get to our room, call room service for some temporary mane dye, tell Braeburn about all the ground rules… but I didn't care. Braeburn was going ballistic with excitement, and I wanted to ride that high for as long as we could. We could remember our troubles later.

One of the great things about Las Pegasus: no matter what you do, you won't look like the craziest pony there. Sure, we were in cheap rain gear and pushing past everypony late at night, but in the first few minutes, Braeburn had already asked me about the doomsayers and street performers.

One thing really caught his eye. "Is that a gold statue? It looks so real!" It was one of those living statue guys – an earth pony was standing under an awning, covered in gold dust or paint or something.

I managed to keep a straight face. "I dunno. Is it real gold?" As we trotted over, I added, "Probably shouldn't touch it, though. Security might freak out."

"Oh, okay." He was barely listening. He was leaning in and sticking his nose real close to this guy. I saw his eyes squint and his head turn as he walked all around it. "Why they got a statue in the middle of the walkway?"

The statue pony was great at his job. He stood there with one hoof raised, eyes closed, and clothing that was baggy enough to hide his breathing but tight enough that it didn't blow in the wind.

"Hey, Braeburn?" I asked. I wanted him to get the full experience.

Braeburn was back in front of the statue, and he turned his head toward me. "Hm?"

I nodded. It was gonna be great. "You gotta be careful around here."

The statue guy cracked an eye and flashed me a grin from behind Braeburn. He knew what was up.

Braeburn was totally buying it, and he didn't look away. He flinched a little, and his voice got shaky. "W-Why's that?"

"Well…" I said as the statue began to shift slightly. The drizzle muffled all the noise he made. "This place is crawling with thieves."

Braeburn shrunk just a little. "Oh, sorry." He'd let his guard down, and that was all it took. "Should I–"

Statue guy moved like gold lightning! He nabbed the sports cap off of Braeburn's head, placed it on his own, and was back in his original position before Braeburn could even yelp.

"Hey!" Braeburn must have jumped a meter into the air before landing and whipping around. His head darted everywhere, but he didn't notice the yellow hat on the statue right in front of him. "Where'd he go! What was that?" He hopped around in place, totally frantic.

I started snickering and pointed. "Dude, look."

Braeburn did a double-take. He squinted his eyes and got his face right up close to the statue. "How in the hell…"

And all at once, the statue pony's eyes opened wide, and he flashed a big smile.

"GAH!" Braeburn jumped back and tumbled into the street.

I dashed over, worried he'd gotten hurt, but by the time I was helping him up, he was already laughing his ass off. "Ahahaha! Soarin'! Hahah! Didja see it? Hehehe… Ahaha!" Braeburn clutched his stomach and could barely look up at the statue pony.

In one smooth motion, the statue pony took the cap off, bowed low, and tossed the cap back onto Braeburn's head, smiling the whole time.

Braeburn kept laughing and clopping his hooves. "That was amazing! You really had me going."

As the statue pony resumed his position, I walked up to him, said, "Thanks, buddy," and dropped a few bits into a cup by his feet. And just like that, he was a statue again.

I turned back to Braeburn, who shook his head with a huge smile on his face. "That is somethin' else."

I brushed some dirt off his rain coat. "Ready for more?"

"You bet!"

We walked along the strip, and Braeburn kept babbling about the statue. "How's he even do that? Don't think I could ever be that patient. He was all gold, too! Every part of him! What's that stuff made of? Think it's expensive? Can't be real gold, right?" I could tell he wasn't paying attention to the rest of the scenery, but I didn't care. He was like a little colt, and his energy was infectious. It wormed its way through my body, and soon I was hopping right along with him.

He rambled on like that for a while, but eventually, his voice died down, he trotted at a slower pace, and he looked at the ground.

When he stopped in place, I nudged him over to the sidewalk again, next to a guy that was trying to sell us loose cigarettes, and asked gently, "Still thinking about home?"

Braeburn kicked at a small rock. "Yeah."

The cigarette guy was being pushy, so I rolled my eyes and threw a wing up to give us a little privacy. "Do you… want to call it quits tonight?" I was a little shocked by my own words. Like, you see yourself as this guy who parties hard and leaves everypony else in the dust, and nothing can make you stop. But then you go with your gut and say what's on your mind, and you find that maybe there are more layers to you than you thought.

Braeburn shook his head. "Oh, I don't wanna spoil your good time."

"Braeburn, this isn't about me having a good time." I lifted up his chin with my other wing. "It's about what you want. So, we can go straight to the hotel, buuuuuut I don't think that's going to help." I pictured him unable to sleep, instead just tossing and turning all night. "You'll just keep worrying about it, and if anypony in Equestria deserves a night off to have fun, it's you."

Braeburn peeked past my wings to look back at the strip, and I snuck a glance, too. Every bright color you could imagine lit up the place like daylight. Ponies of all kinds and moods and ages and speeds moved from building to building, whooping it up with their buddies or cursing their bad luck in the casinos. A few more shuffled past us, hardly paying us any attention.

"Yeah. Okay. You're right." Braeburn turned back to me. "You know, you really outta give yourself some credit. You're a lot smarter than you seem at first blush."

I put down my wings and cocked an eyebrow. "Thanks, I think?"

"Don't worry about it." He leaned in and kissed me softly on the muzzle. "So, what's next?" He was smiling again.

I liked seeing him like that – shoulders relaxed and eyes bright – and I rubbed up against him. "Whatever you want, babe."

His face lit up brighter than all of Las Pegasus combined. I didn't know it at the time, but he wasn't just excited about having free reign over the evening. Without thinking, I'd used a pet name for him. He told me once that he'd been waiting for it, that he knew right then that I was something special. He hadn't… heh heh.

Okay. Derailing the story train for a sec. It's crazy how big the little things can be, you know? He told me once that calling him "babe" had been the highlight of our time in Las Pegasus and the second best thing he'd heard on that whole Equestria-wide tour of ours.

You know, I can still feel where he nuzzled me. He'd stood up straight all of a sudden, let out this happy little whimper, and pressed his head to my shoulder. After probably too much affection for public, he took half a step back and said, "Anythin' I want?"

"Name it. And don't worry," I said, flaring out my wings. "Everything's on me tonight. No arguments." I had enough bits for one good night, and I figured I'd have to stop at the bank the next day anyway.

Braeburn paused and looked to his left to a big sign advertising the "World-Famous Bourbon Bomb." He turned back to me with a crooked smile on his face and slightly furrowed eyebrows. "Then… I wanna cut loose. No regrets. Just for tonight. Just to help me forget for a little while."

…

Remember, you said you wouldn't judge me. You didn't see the way he looked at me, and you hadn't seen the panic and heartbreak in his eyes when the paparazzi had threatened his town. You weren't there, and you don't know how hard – no, impossible – it was to say no and take away what might have been his only night of complete and total fun in months.

I cocked my head back and gave him a smirk. "Only if you think you can keep up, country colt."

"Ha! Watch your mouth, mister," he said as we walked into the bar. "Or one of these days you'll find yourself pukin' under the table. Might just have to have a little contest sometime to see who's the real stallion. Haha!"

We never did.

The Bourbon Bomb wasn't anything special. Not that I was expecting it to be, of course. It's Las Pegasus – everything's fake. It got the job done, though. That shit was strong. It came in this stupidly tall glass, and after we'd both slurped ours down, we were well on our way to Tipsyville.

After another round, we tumbled out onto the street. Braeburn's head darted around, looking for the next big thing, and it wasn't long before he'd found it. "Holy moley! They've even got a big ol' roller coaster!" He hooked my neck and pointed to it, a giant, twisting structure that wound in and out of one of the bigger hotels.

I blew some air out of my lips. "Pfft. You forgetting something?" I stepped back and puffed out my wings a little under my raincoat. "I do speed for a living."

He slumped a little. "Yeah, I suppose you've already been on all of 'em."

"Well, no." I looked back at it and gave a little sneer. "I just, like, never saw the point."

Braeburn cocked his head back and gave me a grin. "Oh, so you're scared, then?"

I rolled my eyes. "Dude, I've gotten myself out of a terminal-velocity tailspin. A freaking roller coaster's nothing."

"Wanna bet?"

Buck me, was I wrong! That thing is crazy! When we crested the first hill, my stomach practically dropped out of me. It was like I was free-falling, but I didn't have any control! Do you have any clue how terrifying it is to go that fast without any control? No, you don't! My wings reflexively started squirming and trying to flap, but they were fastened to the safety equipment. Everything in my told me to fly away, and I started screaming like a colt.

Braeburn held onto his hat and just yelled, "YEEEE-HAW!" and started laughing and laughing at the look on my face.

I grabbed his hoof with mine when we went over the second hill, and I thought my insides were all going to fly out of my mouth when we got jerked down again. It wasn't a thrill ride – it was a punishment! There was nothing natural or smooth about it – you got pulled in whatever direction the track went, and you had absolutely no control.

I don't remember the rest of the ride. I think my brain blocked it out.

The car pulled back into the station, and I was too stunned to move.

The laughing next to me died down. Instead, a soft voice cooed at me as a hoof stroked my neck. "You okay, pardner?"

"A-ah… ah…."

"Heh heh. No more rides, then?"

I was shaky getting off the coaster, and it took me two bags of mini doughnuts before my stomach had settled. I nibbled on the inside of paper feedbag, trying to get all the cinnamon onto my tongue. Honestly, the sugar probably did more harm than good, but it took my mind off of the fear of death for a while. A couple tequila shots helped, too.

But once we'd gotten back out into the noise of the strip, Braeburn was quiet again.

I nudged him a little. "Hey, c'mon. We're gonna have a good time tonight, right?"

Braeburn smiled, but I think it was just for my benefit. "Sure. It, uh, might just take more than a roller coaster ride to keep my mind occupied."

My voice raised in pitch, and I pretended to be offended. "Oh, so you're saying I need to step up my game, then? Not enough for you? Well maaaaaybe I need to pull out the big guns." I had no idea what the big guns were, of course.

He gave me a sly smile. "Do your worst, Big Blue."

I gave the strip a quick scan, and Las Pegasus didn't disappoint. Within moments, I'd found exactly what I needed, and I turned back to Braeburn with a squinty-eyed, toothy grin.

* * * * *

Soarin' pauses and twists up his face a little. "You know, I hope all the gay stuff doesn't gross you out."

I feel my ears flick, and I raise an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"Well…" He scratches his chin. "You know. Just, like, the details and everything. Some guys feel weird hearing other guys talk about guys."

I'm not really sure why he's bringing this up now, but I might as well be honest. "Oh. No, not at all." My chest rumbles with a small laugh. "I've seen my share of stallions."

"Oh! Okay." His wings flare out for a second. "So, you like stallions, then?"

Close, but not quite. I shrug. "I like anypony that's hot."

Soarin' smirks and extends a hoof. Smiling back at him, I give it a small bump.

* * * * *

I was sure Braeburn had never been to a gay strip club before, or at least not one that let you touch the dancers. When he saw where we were heading, he stopped cold, and his eyes went wide. His cheeks flushed, and he grinned and shook his head. "Aw, no. No no no. Ain't it a little weird to bring a date to one of… these places?"

I fluttered up next to him. "Aw, is Braeburn scared of–"

"Well, if you insist!" He closed his eyes and happily pranced through the big, dark doors of the Iron Shaft.

We grabbed a few more rounds from the bar before we sat down in the small theater. There were eight rows of plush benches on each side of a center aisle, and they all had high backs to them so you couldn't see what anypony was doing with their hooves. I usually like getting right up front for these things, but Braeburn wanted a little space to breathe. "No worries," I whispered to him as we sat in the third row and took off our raincoats and hats.

The room smelled like stallion. It was dark, obviously, and even with the small size, it felt more intimate than cramped. Enough room to have just a little privacy, though. Those places are never very full, especially on Mondays, so you usually get some space all to yourself.

Three other ponies sat scattered around the room. They kept their heads down. You can understand why, though, right? I certainly didn't want to be noticed, either.

The stage was dimly lit with a warm red light. We'd come in during a break, but on the side of the stage sat a drum set and a piano. Before long, two earth ponies – artsy types with round sunglasses and tiny beards – came and sat down, one at each instrument. They started playing a hushed, jazzy song with lots of light cymbal crashes. A saxophonist came out, too, and the music got even smoother. It was mellow and sultry, just what you need to get in the mood and open your wallet.

Braeburn was breathing heavily and rapidly tapping his hoof, his eyes focused directly on the stage. He exhaled, drained one of his whisky sours, and whispered, "So how's this work?"

"You'll see," I whispered back, settling into my seat. When I felt a quick jab at my side, I added, "Just let me know which ones you think are hot."

Braeburn settled down, and the red light grew brighter, revealing a long chaise. In no time, a limber unicorn sauntered out.

His coat was a light purple, smooth and silky, and his hooves were manicured to a bright shine. He walked slowly with a lot of wiggle in his step, flicking his minty green tail even few seconds. He was skinny, but not in a bad way. Slight, I guess? He wasn't all small, though. Braeburn sucked in a breath when he noticed. The unicorn bit his lip coyly and slowly scanned around the room, making fleeting eye contact with everypony there.

He eased up to the chaise and threw his front half on it, exposing himself to the audience. The music played on, and the unicorn moaned and swayed his hips back and forth. He looked over his shoulder and panted as he writhed in front of us.

He leaned forward and dragged his body along the front of the chaise before lying down on it. With another look out to the audience – I'm pretty sure he was staring at Braeburn – the unicorn licked his hoof and ran it sensually down his side, all the way down to his flanks. As he began delicately massaging himself, he gasped and arched his back, and he kept moaning and squirming for a few minutes, letting us all soak it in.

Yeah, I totally would've gotten with that.

After he'd given all of us a taste, it was time to earn his paycheck. He got up and started moving towards a small staircase at the edge of the stage so he could give one-on-one dances to anypony that would pay for them.

I leaned over to Brae and whispered right next to his ear, "Sooooo… What do you think?"

Braeburn was practically drooling. "Dammit he's gorgeous." His head whipped over to me. "Uh, but he's got nothin' on you, of course." He grimaced.

I laughed quietly, reached my foreleg around him, and kissed the side of his face. "It's fine, babe. I'm not the jealous type."

Ugh! I had a hell of a lot of faith in myself, didn't I? You never really know about yourself until you're tested.

The unicorn had stopped by somepony in the front row and was mostly out of sight.

I spoke a little louder. "Didn't think you'd go for the submissive type, though. You like to top?"

Without the dancer to distract him, Braeburn had nowhere to focus but our conversation. His cheeks were red, and he shifted his legs to try and conceal how excited he was getting. "Well, variety's the spice of life. Heh heh. You, uh…" He peeked up. "You like takin' it?"

"Eh, I dunno. I've tried it a couple times, and it hasn't been my thing. I've kind of given up on it." I saw his face falter a little, so I nuzzled him again. "For you, though? Sure. Might be nice. Maybe you could…" I whispered a few suggestions in his ear.

Braeburn nuzzled back, and a wicked smile flashed across his face. "Well, now. Sounds like somepony wants a ride, western style." He leaned in, narrowed his eyes, and licked his lips. "And maybe he wants it a little rough."

"Take me if you can." I licked his ear and got a quick flinch. "So, that unicorn's gonna be back here soon. Like what you see? Wanna spend some time with him?"

"Dunno. I–" Braeburn's jaw dropped.

Another stallion had shown up on stage. Giant, buff earth pony. I'm talking totally ripped, and his muscles glistened in the red light. Artificial sweat, probably. He swaggered across the stage, and unlike the unicorn guy, this one moved with slow, solid steps and his head up high, and his black coat and silver mane looked absolutely yummy.

Braeburn leaned over again, keeping his eyes on the stallion. "Do… do you get to touch 'em?"

"Yeah. Just, you know, don't make 'em call security."

"Then I want that one." He downed his other drink.

The purple unicorn had finished with the guy in front and was moving lazily towards us. While Braeburn focused on the earth pony on stage, I gave the smaller stripper a quick head shake. He just smiled and didn't miss a step as he moved past us to the next customer. Hard to find professionalism like that these days.

The earth pony on stage had his own thing going. He lay on his back with one hind leg over the back of the chaise, showing off every part of himself while staring at members of the audience with a big smirk. He didn't want to mess around, though. It didn't take long for him to get up, and soon he was strutting down the center aisle towards us in time with the smooth music. He locked eyes with Braeburn, who was barely breathing and practically bouncing in his seat.

"Soarin', this is so sinful," Braeburn whispered, shaking his head.

"But you're having a good time, right?"

"Damn straight."

The black earth pony walked into our row. He spoke gently, but his voice still had a lot of power behind it. "Evening. Always nice to see two coltfriends doing something wholesome together." His voice was low and warm and mellow and damn, dude! Guy was hot!

Braeburn snapped out of it for a second. "Oh, uh…" He looked my way, and his eyes searched mine. "I… don't know if we're really… officially anything, yet… maybe?"

…

Labels are weird. They've got all this baggage attached to them, and they make you think. They make you feel, too. Even in the middle of the sleaziest city in Equestria, watching hot stallions show themselves off while I had the pony of my dreams next to me in a dark room with sexy music, all I could think about was that Braeburn didn't think he was my coltfriend yet. And it stung.

I mean, if you'd asked me at the time, I probably would have said the same thing. C'mon, we were at a freaking strip club drooling over hot guys. Who the buck brings their coltfriend to a place loaded with competition? I'm pretty open-minded about sex, so why did I suddenly feel like I'd violated something important? But then, I didn't even know what Braeburn was to me.

'Friend' didn't seem right, and 'friend with benefits' was way off, too. How do you describe what we were? I cared about him. Like, way more than I probably had any right to. And I think he cared about me, too. I dunno. All this stuff was just flying through my head for, like, three seconds. I didn't think about it for the rest of the night, and got I back to having fun, but that's… that's probably where I started…

…

Look, you would have gotten possessive, too, okay!? Here was everything I needed wrapped up in a yellow earth pony, and once you have somepony like that, do you have any fucking idea how scary it is to think about them leaving!? Fuck, I'd been through that a million times before, but I'd gone ahead and attached myself to Braeburn at the first sign that it would be different! He'd made me feel better. He'd taken my mind away from all the shit with the 'Bolts and everything was fine with him around! I needed him!

And I couldn't just let him get back together with Bronze or some other asshole. I knew how that would all go down. I cared too much. Yeah! I was right! I…

Dammit.

Dammit! I'm sorry, I just… I…

Ugh. Sorry for yelling.

I know I should be over it by now, but it's hard. It's hard to forgive yourself and move on with your life. Even when everything feels like it's going right, feels like you're healing and making progress, you still feel guilty. You feel guilty about all the things you've done wrong. You feel guilty because everything seems like it's your fault because you see how stupid you were, and what the hell was I thinking, anyway? First night out of Appleloosa, and I was already getting him drunk and risking getting photographed by the media and bringing all these complications into everything, and for what? Fun?

Well, yeah, I guess. I wanted him to have fun. I wanted to see him smile and forget all his problems and have a good night to remember, and I wanted to feel like I was being the good guy for once, the guy that cared and knew what was what. But no. I had no freaking clue. I had no idea how easily fear could sneak into your brain when you have somepony you care about that you've opened yourself up to.

Sorry. Can I just… take a second?

One…

Two…

Three…

…

…

Anyway, there we were in the club, and there was this big, black stallion with a perfectly-sculpted body. "Aw, look. You're making him frown." The stallion moved in front of Braeburn and loomed over him.

I took back my foreleg. I wanted to see what the big guy was gonna do, and I really wanted to see how Braeburn would react. I grinned wide and scooted away a little.

The black stallion had Braeburn hypnotized. "Too bad, too. Mr. Blue looks like he's up for some fun." He reared up and threw his forelegs over the back of the bench, shoving his thick, chiseled chest into Braeburn's face. He started rubbing up against Braeburn's exposed stomach. "And you look like you could handle both of us at once."

Braeburn's eyes were so wide, I thought they'd fall out of his head. His smile quivered, and he took shaky breaths. "Oh… oh, my…" He turned to me, and then back to the wall of stallion right in his face. "C-can I…"

The stallion gave a toothy smile. "Go ahead, cutie. It's all yours."

Braeburn fixated on the monster of a pony in front of him. With a little hesitation, he reached out and lightly brushed along everything he could.

The stallion rolled his head back. "Mmm… You sure know how to please a guy. Right there, cutie. Yeah. That's what I like." What did I tell you? Professionalism.

I'm serious. The more he talked, the more Braeburn explored. It's tough to make somepony relax in a situation like that.

Meanwhile, I was just enjoying the show. A smile took over my face, and my chest swelled at seeing Braeburn get to sit and explore. My blood felt hot, too, and I didn't feel bad about letting my mind go wild with ideas.

Braeburn shuddered again and kept feeling, but he kept looking up and making eye contact with the black pony for about a second at a time. "So, uh, what's your name?" he squeaked. He was trying to use his mayor voice. It wasn't working.

"Oh, just call me Stud." Stud leaned forward and blew a hot breath past Braeburn's ear.

Braeburn went tense, then slumped back with a moan and goofy smirk. Yeah. I'd certainly brought out the big guns, and from the way Braeburn kept getting bolder, I knew he was enjoying himself.

When Stud was done performing and I'd given him a sizeable tip, Braeburn said he'd had enough for a first time. We put our gear back on and left the theater.

Braeburn's mouth was off again once we'd left. His words were a bit slurred, and his accent came through pretty heavily, but he still spoke faster than any intoxicated pony should have been able to. "Geez, Soarin'! That was something' else. Think they enjoy that kinda work? Gotta imagine all sorts of creeps get in there. 'Spose that's what security is for. Ooh, my skin's all tingly, and I don't mind sayin', Stud really got me goin'. Surprised I didn't do anything reckless."

I stopped. We were only a few paces into the street.

"Soa– uh, buddy?" He turned around and cocked his head to the side. He pulled his head back a bit. "You've got a look in your eye…"

"Weeeeell…" I sauntered up to him and whispered in his ear. "How reckless you feeling?"

Braeburn looked around. Even late at night, the street was pretty busy, but everypony was either too drunk or too tired to notice us. He smiled and bit his lower lip. "What did you have in mind?"

I didn't say anything. I started walking, and Braeburn followed close behind. We turned down a side street, then another one, and finally down an alley behind a bar. I flew ahead and scoped it out for addicts or anything. When I got back, Braeburn was shaking his head. "We're gonna get caught."

"Not if you're quiet. Unless you didn't want to cut loose?"

He walked up to me. "You're gonna ruin me, Soarin'." He leaned in and gave me a long, wet kiss with lots of tongue. When he pulled back, his eyes were half-lidded. "…but I'll give you three minutes."

I have no idea how long it took me – a cop could have walked right up to us, and I wouldn't have noticed – but it didn't take long. We took care of me, too, and we shared another big, sloppy kiss.

Trashy? Totally. Worth it? Hell yeah.

When I'd started coming down from my high, I panted out, "Still got a lotta night left. Dance?"

Braeburn smacked his lips. "Drinks first? My mouth's kinda bitter."

"Kay. I'll get something with pineapple, then."

He blinked rapidly at me. "…What?"

We had a long conversation about flavoring on the way back to the strip. I don't know if it was the booze or the afterglow, but we were all over each other. In retrospect, we were putting a lot of faith in raincoats and hats. I'm still surprised we didn't get caught.

We did some shots at another club. There were even more colorful lights, and the music was loud enough that it felt like it was punching you in the chest. We didn't talk much, but we didn't hold back on having fun, either. I think I tried to teach Braeburn how to dance to more pop-style music. He might have been pretty good at it, but I don't really remember. There was a lot of grinding, though. A lot of grinding.

Honestly, most of the night after that was a blur. We kept our eyes on each other, but other than that, the alcohol flowed, the sweat dripped off of us, and we laughed and shouted and danced on and on. Whenever we'd get tired, we'd go outside for air, end up in another club, and start all over again until my bits were almost all gone.

Eventually, we stumbled out of a club and saw that none of the lights were lit anymore. I was hammered, and I spent a long time squinting at the signs. The letters seemed to swim in my vision. "Uh… Power's out?"

Braeburn snorted and smacked my ass. "Naw, ya' simple? Sun's up!" He started giggling and didn't stop. He dropped to the ground, threw his hooves over his face, and kept snickering.

"Oh, yeah." I tried to whistle for a cab, but I just managed to blow a raspberry. A pony-drawn cab still picked us up, though. The ride was bumpy and the world spun, but it was still too short. Braeburn and I made out the entire way to the hotel, sloppy and gross as it probably was.

We got to the hotel, the Palomino, and I managed to get us through the giant glass doors and into the massive lobby. There were chandeliers everywhere but not many ponies around. The receptionist was a saint: all I had to do was show her my Wonderbolts ID (no small feat digging it out of my bag), and she called a bellhop to show us up to a celebrity suite. You know those luggage cart things? I might have ridden one to our room.

The bellhop left us with a few gallons of water, and we stumbled into the room only barely aware of our surroundings.

Before anything else, Braeburn staggered over to the window and shut the shades, making sure there was no way to see in from the outside. "Heh. Not gonna get us again!"

I, meanwhile, had collapsed onto the bed. It was king-sized, and it was super comfy. I'd already started dozing off when I felt a big warm earth pony crawl up onto me and feel around the back of my head. I opened my eyes and smiled. Even though I could barely see him in the dark, a few thin rays of light came in through the cracks in the shades, and they highlighted every beautiful curve of his face.

Braeburn was stroking my mane. He spoke softly, and he shaped all his words so I could hear clearly. "Thanks for takin' me out tonight, Soarin'. Gonna remember this night forever. I'm… I'm sorry about what I said in front of Stud."

I blinked a few times at him. I'd completely forgotten. "What do you mean?"

"The coltfriend thing. I mean, are we…" He stopped petting me, and his words began to run together. "It's just that I don’t know where we are, and you're doing all these nice things for me and I don't know how I'll ever repay you. And you're really sweet, but I can't help feelin' like we're just stumblin' through whatever the hell is going on, and maybe I'm too weak-minded, but I just want to know. I-I suppose you're not used to bein' all serious, what with bein' a celebrity and all, and– Oh, and there I go making assumptions. I shouldn't–"

I held a hoof up to his lips and stopped him. Maybe I didn't understand everything he was saying, but I'd heard him say he wanted something, and on that night especially, I wanted to give him everything. "Babe, we can be whatever you want. All you gotta do is ask." I took my hoof away.

Braeburn's eyes softened. "But it can't be that easy, can it? There's so much that–" He suddenly stopped and chuckled. "Aw, hell. I'm bein' stupid." He put a hoof on my chest and looked straight at me. "Soarin', would you do me the honor of bein' my coltfriend?"

Labels are weird, but when they don't do any harm, when they help somepony be happy and help you grow closer to them, I guess they're pretty alright.

I smiled and nuzzled the hoof on my chest. "Totally."

Braeburn sank down onto me and wrapped me up in a big hug. "Thanks, Soarin'."

I breathed in that smell some more. It soothed my mind and made my heart skip a beat, just like the first time. "For what?

"Everything. The shows, the experience… Heck, even the alley. Tonight was great."

"Heh. Wanna make it perfect?" I grabbed his hips and started grinding up against him. He let me go on for a bit, but we didn't get anywhere. Too drunk and way too tired. We both burst out giggling again.

Braeburn rolled off of me and rubbed my chest. "Tomorrow, Big Blue."

I poked his side. "It's already tomorrow."

"Oh, just get some sleep, ya' beautiful idiot."

You know, even if I might have been enabling him a little, I don't regret it. I think you only get so many days like that, days where you just get to have fun and forget all your problems. Okay, yeah, I know. It sounds just like what I was doing before I met Braeburn, back when I was trying to hide my pain in parties and booze. Old habits are hard to break.

Geez, that sounds even worse.

What I mean is, Braeburn was happy. I was happy. We'd spent a night growing closer and being together without worrying about all the things that tried to weigh us down, and just like him, it's a night I'll remember for the rest of my life. That's gotta be worth something, right?

Chapter 22 - Modifications

Yeah.

…

Yeah.

And the next morning, I woke up with a coltfriend. My mind felt clearer, my heart beat stronger, and my face did that thing where it scrunches up and you can't stop smiling and you curl up into a little ball and just feel warm. I don't think I'd felt that way since graduation.

Braeburn woke up around the same time I did. His eyes fluttered open, and he made that scrunchy smile face, too. "Heh. I could get used to this."

I reached out and stroked his face. "So could I."

He shifted closer to me, and we slowly woke up together, holding each other and talking about the night before. Our bodies radiated heat into each other, and we didn't get up until our hangovers had come roaring back. We laughed about that, too.

Braeburn – total trooper – ran down to the front desk, put in an order for mane dye, and got us some more water. Plus, he snagged some of that bastionroot stuff that you chew on to cure headaches. It tastes like bad, spicy candy, but it does the job. We just chugged the water and chewed the root and complained about the flavor until room service arrived with the dye. And when it did…

"Ha!" I turned the bottles over and over in my hooves. I couldn't believe it. I looked over my shoulder and gave Braeburn a sly look. "Really? Hot pink?"

Lying on the bed, Braeburn blushed a deep red. As the bellhop left, he said, "Well, I got black for you, and you can add some purple highlights, but, uh, yeah… Heh." He crossed his forelegs. "Well, uh, I wouldn't want to be too similar, right? Gotta look different. A-and I figure, well, new city, new coltfriend, so why not a new Braeburn? Give the big, flamin' lifestyle a try and just let myself go." He looked up. "You don't mind, right?"

Dammit he looked cute. I could already feel my wings getting stiff. "Babe, whatever you want is fine."

He bounced off the bed and walked over. "So how's that stuff work?" Brushing his body along mine, he leaned in and stuck his nose up to the glass bottle. "You just pour it in?"

"I'll show you. We should probably shower first, though."

We stepped into the bathroom. Just like the hotel room itself, it was way too big and way too fancy: marble everything, chandeliers, and a tub that looked big enough for five ponies.

Yawning, I turned on the hot water and stepped inside. The soothing warmth crept along my body, and my mane and tail felt heavier and heavier until the hair covered my eyes. I parted my mane and saw Braeburn standing there with a goofy grin on his face, and I cocked my head to the side. "What?"

Really slightly, he nodded. "I got me a coltfriend, and he's damn good-lookin'." He stepped into the shower behind me, got right up close, and said softly into my ear, "And I owe him a little somethin' from last night."

Yeah. We did. We probably used up half the hot water in the city, but at least cleaning up was easy.

After we'd finished, Braeburn grabbed the washrag and lathered it up, talking above the rush of warm water as he massaged the soap into my coat. He wasn't gentle, but the hard circles he made on my body relaxed my muscles. When he got to my shoulders, he added, "Gonna need to clean your wings, too, I bet. Want some help?"

"Mmm..." I moaned. "I'd like that."

He finished cleaning me, and I returned the favor, taking my sweet time to touch every little crevice with the washrag. His body was paradise, and it was all mine to explore. I could touch every piece of him, and it would be okay. So I did. I ran that rag over his strong legs, up his flanks, all around his back and his belly, across that gorgeous chest, and even on his face, gently enough to not hurt him but hard enough to let him know I cared. Does that make sense? Meh. Whatever. Love doesn't always make sense.

Don't act surprised. Of course I loved him. I still do. It just… took me a long time to figure out that it was the real thing, that that's what love felt like. If I'd have known it then, I would have told him every day.

But life isn't just sweet moments and washrags. We finished cleaning each other and dried off, but we had to leave our manes and tails wet for the dye. Braeburn wanted me to go first, so I showed him how to rub it in. I ran some water to wash away the excess dye, and I leaned my head sideways over the tub.

He poured the black dye over my head and started rubbing it in. Mane-dying isn't hard, and he got the hang of it right away, but before long, I heard him sigh.

I kept my head in place, but I asked, "What's wrong?" I tried to roll my eyes enough to see him, but he was out of view.

His voice was a low and a little slow. "I like your mane the way it was. Got so much life to it."

"I thought you wanted to try something new?"

He paused. "Yeah, you're right. And hey, we get to lead that 'gay lifestyle' everypony's always ramblin' about. Get to live out loud." His voice was weak. It didn't match his words, but he was trying.

I figured I'd encourage him. "Totally! Give it a shot. You can try out any lifestyle you want, Braeburn."

His rubbing got gentler. He finished applying the black and reached for the little combing tool for the purple streaks, and after telling him how I wanted it styled, it didn't take him long to finish.

"Your mane's done." I ran my head under the faucet, and Braeburn worked on my tail. He started to say something a few times, but he didn't actually get the words out until all the hair had been dyed black and I was shaking off the excess. "Ya' know," he said, "I always thought coltfriends had special names for each other. Somethin' just for them."

"Sure thing, babe." I ruined a towel drying off, and Braeburn leaned over the tub. I uncorked the bottle of dye – pink! – and drizzled a little onto his luxurious mane. It felt like I was vandalizing a famous painting. "What do you wanna call me?"

Braeburn paused, and held still. "Heh. I dunno, Big Blue. Any ideas?"

"Dunno," I said, shrugging. "Something with the 'Bolts, maybe? My dad used to call–"

"Ha!"

"What?" I pulled back a bit.

Braeburn just snickered at me. "I don't know, Big Blue. Do you really want me to name ya' after work, Big Blue?"

My cheeks felt hot, and my ears flattened against my head. I turned away and just tried to enjoy the silkiness of his mane. My voice was slight. "Oh. Yeah."

With another laugh, he settled back down over the tub. "Sounds like you've already gotten used to it, at least."

"Yeah. What about you? Oh, hey. Turn around. Your mane's done."

He got into the tub and soaked his tail again. "Aw, you have to pick it." His eyes lidded, and his voice took on a lot of warmth. "Just think of something that reminds you of me."

He was right. I had to pick.

I worked more of the dye in. It was a hot, bright, unforgiving pink. "So... Sexiest Pony I've Ever Met Who's Super Smart And Makes Me Happy?"

"Nah, too long." I think he thought I was serious. "Maybe just pick a feature."

I ran a hoof through his tail and caught a glimpse of his cutie mark. "Sounds good, Applebutt."

His body tensed in my hooves, and he flinched, drawing his left hind leg up into his body. I leapt back into the air and hovered there, looking at his tail and talking quickly. "What? What? Did I pull it?"

"Uh… N-no." His voice was flat and forceful. "Not that name. It's sorta… taken, and I'd rather not think about it."

"Oh." I fluttered back down and worked in more dye, my eyebrows furrowed. "Bronze was a jerk."

Braeburn chuckled nervously. "Yeah. He… is."

"Eh, I'll think of something." I worked in the last of the dye. "Done!"

A smile spread across his face. "Lemme see!" He jumped out the tub, slipping a little and dripping pink water onto the tile floor. He bounded over to the mirror, and his eyes went wide. "W-wow." He ran a hoof through the still-wet, cotton-candy-colored mane. "That's…wow!"

I sauntered over next to him and took a look, too. Braeburn had done a great job getting the purple streaks nice and even. I turned my head to the side and grinned. "Not bad, Candy Fluff." I hooked his neck and brought him in for a kiss on the cheek. "You look good like that."

"Well, you look good all the time, Soarin'." He turned his head to me and kissed the end of my nose. "I'm just tryin' to keep up."

By the time we'd rinsed off, it was already the late afternoon, so Tuesday was pretty much shot. Nothing wrong with taking it easy and heading out at night, though. Braeburn read the paper while I kept going on Whitewing's Big Score. I was pretty far in – Whitewing and his two buddies had started planning their heist and gathering their materials. It was really getting good.

A few times, I looked up from the book, and Braeburn was sitting at the desk, deep into what he was reading. His eyes didn't leave the page. They scanned every word, never snapping up. He breathed heavily every once in a while, usually when he would turn the page and his eyes would dart everywhere. He looked like he was reading everything, and it wasn't too hard to figure him out: he was looking for his face or his name.

I set the book on the bed and snuck in a bookmark, and then I paused there for a while, just watching him. My chest felt just a little tight. I didn't want to think about the real world, and I didn't want Braeburn to, either, and the more he looked at that paper, the more I felt like I was losing him to his worries. At first, my mouth felt wired shut, but Wonderbolts don't hesitate, and coltfriends don't let their coltfriends suffer. "Wanna do something, Pink Lemonade?"

Braeburn giggled and cocked an eyebrow at me. "Keep tryin', Big Blue." He stood up from the desk and stretched his back. "Still a little hungry. Know any good restaurants?"

"Tons." I saw some stationary on the desk, and since I was already paying attention to the real world, a thought struck me. "Let's get room service, though. I need to let Spitfire know what's happening. Can I borrow the desk, Emerald Eyes?"

We switched places, and I grabbed some stationary and a quill. Just like with my letter to Streak, the words didn't come to me. A few thoughts crossed my mind, but when I stuck the quill into the ink and brought it to the page, it wouldn't go. I grunted and forced myself to write, "Dear Spitfire." It felt wrong, but I was too frustrated at how hard I was trying to notice.

Braeburn must have heard me groaning. "Trouble?" He put down the room service menu, trotted over, and peeked over my shoulder. "Hoo, your hoof writin's terrible. How do you expect anypony to read that?"

"Whaaaat?" I whined. "Some of us have to entertain the crowds instead of writing reports all day, Captain Booty-Flanks."

Braeburn ignored my completely awesome pet name. Somehow. "Well, yeah, but I can barely make it out. Looks like you wrote 'D-E-E-R' and followed it with 'Spritzer.' Here, let me do it for ya'."

"Thanks, Butter Quill."

"Oh, you're not even tryin' anymore." He lightly butted my head, but I saw a smile flash across his face.

Braeburn wrote my letter for me. It was so much easier not having to do it myself, when I could just say what I wanted and didn't have to write. The letter was to Spitfire. It let her know that we were okay and going to hide out in Las Pegasus for a few days, but that I didn't know how long we could stay. It told her we probably wouldn't get any mail she sent us, and it mentioned we'd be traveling back to Cloudsdale. I finished by asking her to keep Bottom Line from firing me.

Braeburn's head popped up. "Hold on. We're really goin' all the way to Cloudsdale?"

I didn't forget that Braeburn was with me. It was more like I figured he would want me to keep taking the lead. Yeah. That's it. "Well, yeah! I wanna show you around!" Half-true. Yes, I wanted to bring him home, but I didn't actually have a long-term plan. I was too focused on keeping the media off our asses.

"Oh." His voice was quiet, and his expression was blank except for two slightly raised eyebrows. "Alright, then."

After dinner, we grabbed a small saddlebag for bits, mailed the letter, and we were off.

We stopped just outside the hotel, and I immediately noticed Braeburn taking smaller steps and looking around. His movements were all rigid, and he kept looking up at his mane.

I bumped him in the side and said, "Own it."

He gave me a weak little smile at first, but when I kept smiling back, he straightened out his back and started strutting next to me.

I whispered, "More hips, like that unicorn guy from last night."

He moved a little more, and his hips swayed side to side. The more he walked, the more swagger he had. With a laugh at himself, he held his head high and puffed out his chest.

I gave him a little space. "Lookin' good, Happy Pride!"

We spent almost an hour just walking around the strip. Braeburn got bolder with his hips and his tail as we moved along. He took wider steps, and he even started giving passers-by little winks and bedroom eyes.

A dark blue pegasus stallion whistled at Braeburn as we passed him. He stopped and winked at me. "Nice hoof candy. You sharing?"

I nudged Brae. "You in, Double Take?"

Braeburn paused and struck a pose. He rotated his ass toward the other guy, half-lidded his eyes, and flicked his tail. He gave the pegasus a long look up and down. "Sorry tall, dark, and handsome. You couldn't handle all this."

My jaw dropped. Seriously, he was working it better than Sapph, and I felt my wings getting stiff.

The other dude's wings started unfurling, too, just a little. "Aw, you're no fun, you tease. Rude to string a guy along like that." He stepped really close to Braeburn, and I felt my hackles raise. "Maybe just a touch? That's a pretty nice butt you've got."

I knew this game. You get rejected, so you pretend like you just want to admire the guy. Then, when he lets you touch him, you go just a little further than he said, and you keep doing that until you've got him back at your hotel room. My jaw clenched, and I took a step forward, thinking, 'No. That's my coltfriend.'

But Braeburn was amazing, like always. "Sorry, stranger. Only room for one right now." He flicked his tail under the dude's chin as he came over and ran his body along mine. "I'll let you know if I find an openin' for ya', though."

The pegasus chuckled and turned away. "Ha! Yeah, okay. Whatever. Have fun, you two." Before he walked away, he said to me, "Give it to him and don't stop."

My jaw relaxed, and I turned to Braeburn.

He was grinning wide and shaking a little. "Ha! Haha. Hoo… Well, that was a bit scary." He nuzzled me again, and everything felt right. "Don't think I didn't see you about to step in, Big Blue."

"Any time, Butternut."

"I think I like this. You don't think it's too, uh…" He looked around, but the crowds of ponies were ignoring us except for the ones checking out Braeburn's flanks. "It's not too… ya' know."

"You can say it."

He snapped back to me. "It's a pejorative, though!"

Big words make my head hurt. "A what?"

Braeburn rolled his eyes. "An insult."

"Oh. Well, it's just a word, and it's only an insult if you let it be."

He took a deep breath. "Well, I'm not being too much of a f-fag, am I?" He searched me for a reaction. Sweet Luna, it was adorable, like watching a colt try to talk about his "ding-a-ling." I could feel the tension swirling around him.

I brushed my face up against his. "It's kinda nice, right?"

His voice was quiet. "Uh-huh."

"Then you can be the biggest fag in Las Pegasus. I'll still sleep with you."

"A-ah…" He blushed and looked down. "I've never been cat-called before. I liked it. It was… nice feelin' wanted. I bet you feel that way all the time, don't you?"

"Eh, not really. There's a big difference between being hot because you're famous and being hot because you're so damn hot. And you're so. Damn. Hot." I smirked and looked him up and down. "You hottie."

"Heh heh. Well…" He kicked the ground and looked up at me. "I want more."

We spent another couple hours trotting around the strip, and Braeburn was an absolute pro. I held back and let him own the place. Stallions kept hitting on him, and even a few mares wanted to take pictures with him. Maybe it was because he looked kinda goofy, but I think it was the confidence. I got to see him come out of his shell a little, and I smiled knowing I was doing my job.

By sundown, Braeburn was jittery and babbling at the speed of light again. "Hoo, this is a fun place. Surprised how easy it is to just walk around, even with all these big attractions to look at. Hope you're not bored! I'm sure not. Hell, it'd probably take a lifetime to see it all. Maybe more than that! Couple lifetimes, at least. Can we– oh, hey!" He stopped in front of jewelry display, but not an upscale one. He lifted his hoof to the glass and stared inside at a row of earrings and studs. Slowly, he turned his head to me. "Can I? I… I want one."

Involuntarily, I took a step back, and my face wrinkled up. "Really?" I raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Well, new me, new jewelry, right?"

"Uh…" I never got the hang of what to say in situations like that. I mean, I liked the old Braeburn, but he was exploring a bunch of new things, and I didn't want to stifle him. Plus, if he started living on the edge, it would mean someone that I could always party with, and that he wouldn't get too angry at me if I partied too hard.

Braeburn turned back to the window. "I'll pay for it myself, if that's the issue."

"No, no." I waved a hoof. "I've got this. It'll look great on you."

Braeburn paused. "Yeah." He slowly shook his head, and his smile came back. "Yeah."

Was I even capable of saying no to him?

I'd relaxed a lot that night. Seeing Braeburn get to be unabashedly flaming for a while was fun. It was this new side of him that I'd never seen before, and I loved getting to watch him play around. Life had flavor again. 'He feels comfortable around me,' I thought. 'He's okay acting like this when I’m around, and he's never been able to before, but now he can. Because of me.' My chest fluttered, and my head felt clear.

Braeburn insisted on paying by himself, which was good because I'd totally spaced on going to the bank. We walked into the small shop with the walls and walls of body decorations, and he bounced up to a glass case. He picked out a medium-sized stud, a light blue zircon that was the same color as my coat. "So I'll always think of you," he said, nuzzling me. "You gonna get one?"

"Nah." I hadn't even hesitated.

"Oh…" His head cocked to the side. "Why not? Don't you wanna match?"

"Eh, I'd have to take it off for our shows, anyway, and they take, what?" I looked over to a surly worker covered in piercings. "…like, a month to heal?"

The tawny earth pony behind the counter gave a small nod. His voice seemed really upbeat for a guy with more metal than skin on his face. "As long as you take care of it and keep it clean, you can take it out after two weeks."

"Yeah. I don't want to get it infected when we get back to Cloudsdale. Bottom Line's already on my ass enough as it is without me needing medical leave." I had really loose lips that night, didn't I? "Plus, I don't really like how they look on me. Never really grew into them."

When I saw Braeburn frowning, I thought, 'Shit. I'm killing the mood.' I perked up and nudged him with my shoulder. "It'd look great on you, though!"

Braeburn chuckled. "Heh heh. Well, I'm glad you think so, since I'm gettin' one either way." He looked back at the… I think they go by "artist" or something. "Ready when you are!"

We were in and out in twenty minutes, and Braeburn had a new blue stud to go with his new blue stud.

We finished the night with a magic show and a little gambling in one of the casinos. The big places always have banks open at all hours, so I stocked up.

Wednesday was a blast, too. We toured of a bunch of old landmarks, went to a "museum of the stars," and saw a concert late at night with tons of light and fireworks and everything before finishing up at a bar, and you better believe we found time to screw, even if I had to be careful with the new hardware.

Braeburn's little adventure into being super gay went pretty well, too, at least for a few days. We got him a pink shirt that matched his loud mane, and the cat calls kept coming. He kept playing along, but every time it happened, he reacted less and less, and by Wednesday night, he was asking to leave the bar early because he didn't want any more guys "getting all grabby." I was happy to oblige and be the grabby one that night.

We left. I kept trying to get him to talk about how he was liking the lifestyle on the walk back to the hotel, but he kept changing the subject. I didn't push it.

The next morning, we were sitting in a diner, waiting for the waiter come back and actually take our order. The diner was nothing special, but it advertised itself as "the queerest breakfast in town," and it had a bunch of pink décor everywhere. It still smelled like grease, though, and the paint was peeling off some of the walls, but at least the tables looked clean. Couldn't make up for the slow service, though, or the grime in some of the corners.

We were there a little after sunrise, too, so there wasn't much business. Anypony that had been out late was still sleeping off their hangover.

I sipped some stale coffee while Braeburn scanned page after page of the local paper. "You know, the Las Pegasus Rambler doesn't run national scandals. Too many local ones to cover."

Braeburn sighed and folded up the paper, setting it aside. He shook his head, rubbed his face, and looked up at me with a slight frown and dark circles under his eyes. He blinked hard at me. "You've got something on your mind," he stated.

I hadn't realized how long I'd held the coffee cup at my face. I set it down with a small clink. "Well, I do. You."

He grinned and shook his head. "Aw, looks who's Mr. Romantic this mornin'."

"Seriously." I examined him again. His shoulders were sunken, and his eyes were… also sunken. "You look messed up, Pink Lady."

"Hey, now. I said no mare-soundin' names." He took a deep breath and put two hooves on the table. "But, yeah, I’m tired. Or weary of the city, I think. We aren't all built to party every night, Soarin'. Some of us like the quiet."

What? Oh, come on. I can't tell you about every conversation we had. Some are private. So, yeah, he knew how much I hated the quiet. I wasn't gonna hide that from him. He told me a bunch about himself, too. You just… do that sometimes.

I reached over and put a hoof on his. "So, what do you wanna do?"

"I dunno…" Braeburn looked around the café. The more he stared, the more deflated he seemed. "Did we really have to come to the gay breakfast place?"

"I… thought you'd like it." My legs felt uncomfortable, and I shifted in place.

"It's nice, and that's very thoughtful." He ran his free hoof through his mane, and a few pink hairs stuck to it. He looked at them and flicked them away. "It just seems so artificial."

"Yeah, maybe. I–"

The waiter, a unicorn in a tight fishnet shirt, appeared out of nowhere and dropped two mimosas off on the table. We hadn't ordered any, but as he explained, there were "from the couple at the opposite table."

When he got out of the way, I saw two pegasus stallions giving us the bedroom eyes. They looked like wrecks – clothing stained and wrinkled, manes all out of whack, and leaning way too hard on the tables. Their movements were a little jerky. They were probably still partying from the last night, and they were probably high, too, from the looks of their twitchy eyes. No question, they wanted to end their night with a bang. Literally.

Braeburn sighed and looked back to me. Even as tired as he was, he looked so crisp compared to the other guys. "See? Like that. They don't even know us, and they wanna make a move." He rolled his eyes and nickered, and his tone flattened. "They're not gonna come over, are they?"

"Just follow my lead." I pushed my drink to the edge of the table.

Braeburn did the same, and the waiter delivered the drinks back to the other stallions, who just shrugged and kept talking to each other. They didn't bother us again.

Braeburn massaged his temples. "How do you deal with this sort of thing all the time? Ponies throwin' themselves at you and such."

"Eh." I cracked my neck. "I just roll with it. You have fun with somepony for a night and move on. That's just how it is." I took another sip of my lukewarm coffee.

Braeburn shook his head again and raised an eyebrow. "Doesn't it feel hollow, though? I'd think it would drive you crazy after a while, not connecting with anypony."

I set my mug on the table and stared at it, holding it with both forehooves. "I mean, yeah, totally. You get sort of used to it, like you're in a holding pattern, and you get tired. It wears you down, but it's so easy to go through the motions week after week You either grind yourself down to nothing, or…" The past week played out in my head, and I felt a sudden rush of endorphins.

"Or what?"

"Oooooor you go crazy and chase after the first pony in months that treats you well." I laughed quietly. I mean, hell, I had to have been pretty desperate or out of my mind or something to chase Braeburn down like that, right?

"Heh heh. You sayin' my coltfriend's crazy?" Coltfriend. I liked that word. A lot. Especially coming from him.

"Well, I'm certainly cr–"

Braeburn smirked and narrowed his eyes. "If you say 'crazy about you,' I swear I'm leavin'."

'Dammit!' I thought. "No, I… aaaaam…" My head bobbed left and right, but my gaze eventually settled on Braeburn's sparkling eyes, and the words came to me. "I'm lucky the guy I fell for is everything I could want."

Nailed it!

Braeburn smiled, and the muscles in his face relaxed. "You know, they say earth ponies can always tell when somepony lies to them," he said in a soft, mellow voice.

My heart jumped, and my wings hitched up a little. I cocked my head to the side. "W-what's that supposed to mean?"

He took my hoof in his, and then he brought it up to his face and kissed it. "It means we know when you're tellin' the truth, too."

The tension released from my body. I leaned over and bumped my nose into his, feeling the velvet-on-velvet of our soft skin.

And then I whispered, "Jerk!" and kicked him lightly under the table.

"Ow! Heh heh." He pulled back and grinned. "Careful, now. You might not be the only crazy one."

I leaned back and gestured with a hoof. "Oh really? You're nuts, too?"

Braeburn cast a glance at the condiment rack on the table. "Crazy as a pink peppercorn."

"What?" I blinked a few times at him.

"You know, a pink peppercorn?" His voice had slightly weird inflection. I should have known something was up.

"…what?"

"Pepper. It comes from these little seed-like pods. Most are black, but every once in a while, one of 'em turns out pink. Gets crushed in with the rest of 'em, and you can see it in the pepper. You never heard of that?"

"Nnnope!"

"Ha! Well, I'll show ya'!" He grabbed the pepper shaker, took my hoof, and shook a small pile onto it. He leaned in. His eyes went wide, and he pointed at the pile. "See? There's a few pink specks."

I couldn't see them, which felt weird, since I have such good eyesight. "I don't see it."

Braeburn leaned in again. "Look closer."

I brought my hoof right up to the edge of my face and squinted. "I still don't–"

Pwoof!

My nose freaked out as a small puff of air from Braeburn's mouth carried the pepper into my nasal cavity. "AAA–CHOO!!!" I shook my head, which just sent more pepper flying. "AAA-CHOO!"

Braeburn slapped the table. "Aaaahahaha! Oh, c'mon, Big Blue! You're smarter than that!"

By the time I was done sneezing, I was giggling along with him. "You ass."

"Turnabout's fair play," he snickered.

"Heh. You're right." I reached over and tipped his water glass at him, sending cold water splashing onto his chest.

"Eep!" He jumped in his seat, but then his eyes narrowed, and his mouth twisted into an evil grin. He grabbed my glass and splashed my face with it.

We'd moved on to full-on soggy napkin wars by the time the waiter shouted, "Out!" We did as we were told, and I stiffed the waiter. Hey, if he hadn't been so slow to take our order, we wouldn't have gotten distracted.

Out on the street, Braeburn shook himself off. "Is every restaurant gonna be like this? Heh heh. You weren't even drunk this time."

A few ponies had started milling about the streets of Las Pegasus, but there was only one on my mind. "Like I said, I'm crazy."

"Yeah, you are."

I nuzzled up close to him and whispered into his ear. "Crazy for you."

Braeburn pursed his lips and shook his head. His words were soft and slow. "What am I gonna do with you?" He kissed my forehead.

"That's easy. Keep me!"

"Fine, ya' troublemaker." Braeburn nuzzled me again. "So, any place low-key for the day? I think I've had enough excitement for a while."

Can't blame him. We'd done a ton of stuff on our short trip, and I was a little tired, too. "There's probably a spa at the hotel. Sound cool?"

"Yeah, but let's get some grub at a food cart or somethin'."

We started trotting back to the hotel, and the conversation didn't pick up. It was weird, like we were both waiting for the other pony to say something. I didn't really know what to do, since I felt fine, but the silence was killer.

Braeburn finally spoke his mind after a few blocks. "How much longer you wanna stay here? Can't imagine it's easy on your budget."

"It's no big deal. Hell, we could stay another month if we wanted to." Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him cringe, so I added, "Buuuut, you probably wanna skip town, right?"

He nodded. "Mm-hmm. Think it's too early to head back to Appleloosa?"

"Probably. The story hasn't even broken yet, and we should wait for it to die down. They'll get bored eventually."

There's a reason I'm not a media pony. I'd thought that laying low would throw them off our trail. Turns out, "The Search for Soarin'" just got worse the longer we stayed hidden. Who knew?

I asked, "Know any other places to hide out?"

He looked forward, down the street at nothing. His breathing became shallower. "Maybe," he said after a long pause. His steps were stiff, and he stuck his lower lip out. "Lemme think about it."

We spent the rest of the day at the spa. Ever been to a spa? They do all the stuff you see in the movies, from the seaweed wraps to the facials. We got a salt scrub, which is this thing where they exfoliate you or season you or something, and we finished up with a couple's massage. You should go sometime. Treat yourself.

That night, we ate dinner at a fancier restaurant. I was well-behaved, and I even bought a nice, black button-up shirt. It was one of those dinner-and-a-show places with a bunch of acrobats and comedians, and it was a nice way to spend the evening.

Of course, it got even better when we made it back to our room. We got back early enough that we weren't exhausted, and we spent a long, long time getting freaky and experimenting with a couple things we'd wanted to try. Taking it slow always makes the ending so much better. We fell asleep spooning.

On Friday morning, Braeburn woke up first. I felt him shifting in bed, which woke me up, too. We'd separated in the middle of the night, and I felt myself reach out and grab him. I groaned through a sleepy haze, "No. Warm. Sex muffin."

He leaned back and kissed my nose, and he spoke gently with that voice that always made everything better, that voice that could open my eyes and bring me back, no matter what, every single time. "Go ahead and sleep in, Big Blue. I'm just goin' to get us some more water."

Pegasi don't always know when ponies are lying.

He said something else to me, but I don't remember it, and I fell right back asleep. I had a great dream, too. Braeburn was underneath me, and I was chewing on his ear, and he kept moaning and saying my name and telling me not to stop, and we were up on a cloud with the stars above us and nopony else around. It was a great dream.

When I woke up, my teeth hurt, and the corner of my pillow was wet.

The thing was, I knew it was much later. Like, way later. I hadn't seen the clock the first time, but something inside my chest told me I hadn't seen Braeburn in hours.

"Braeburn?" My voice was hoarse. I sat up and looked around the large room. Nopony there. I rubbed my eyes and checked again. Still nopony but me.

I started sweating, and I could hear myself breathing. My skin tingled, and my stomach felt sick. I leapt up and tripped getting out of bed. Nothing seemed out of place: his hat was still on the chair, and the bathroom door was open.

My body was paralyzed. 'Luna, what if he's hurt!' I thought about everything that could have happened – maybe somepony had asked him to step outside and help with something. He would have gone, too. 'Did I warn him about strangers!?' My heart raced, thinking of him getting taken down some back alley somewhere. "Braeburn!"

I dashed to the door, threw it open, and barely stopped myself from tripping over Braeburn, who was sitting just outside the hotel room.

He looked up at me. He put on a big smile, but his eyes were puffy and wet. "Oh, sorry. Heh heh. Didn't mean to worry you. Just figured you'd want to sleep in." His lip quivered a little. "Sleep alright?"

I was still barely awake, and I shook my head to knock some of the sleep out of my skull. "Babe, what's–"

On the floor next to him sat a pile of magazines and papers, a large stack that looked like it had the Friday editions of everything printed in Las Pegasus. A magazine sat on top, and on its front page, glossy and in full color, were two pictures edited to fill the page together. On the left, me, sitting outside of Braeburn's house, looking distraught and surrounded by paparazzi. On the right, Braeburn, looking over his shoulder and sneaking onto a train. "The Search for Soarin'" was plastered at the top in big, gaudy letters, joined by a bunch of stupid questions about who Braeburn was and what he was hiding.

"…Shit."

Braeburn shrugged, and his stiff smile came back. "Well, what can you do?" His voice sounded choked off, and he started blinking a lot. I saw his stomach contract as he stifled a sob.

'I can be a good coltfriend.' That thought ran in circles around my head, but I just stood there, slack-jawed. 'Just tell me how!'

Braeburn took a shaky breath, gathered up the pile, and carried it inside. He set all the magazines and papers on the desk and stared back at me. His eyes took on a soft, welcoming sparkle, and for a moment, he looked like normal Braeburn. "You okay?"

That stallion never stopped surprising me. Here he was, facing something that he'd been dreading for almost a week, something that he knew would make a lot of ponies close to him unhappy for a million different reasons, and he was asking me if I was okay. Dammit. I wish I could have been half as good as he was to me that day.

I barely moved. "I… wanna be a good coltfriend." I sounded like a yearling.

Braeburn chuckled and dried his eyes with a hoof. "Well, I could use a shoulder." He motioned to the bed with his head.

I felt numb, and I didn't know how to fix it. Braeburn was sad, and all I'd done was pretend that the media wouldn't catch up to us.

We lay down together, and I wrapped my wings around us as he set his head on my chest. We breathed together in silence for a while.

Braeburn spoke gently. "Now's the part where you ask how I'm feelin'." This probably sounds weird, but it reminded me of how Dad sounded whenever he tried to teach me something new.

I couldn't babble the words fast enough. "H-how are you feeling?"

He squeezed my chest. "I'm not… I don't know. I just feel lost again. It's just like after Bronze left. Everything's just a mess, and it's all my fault again."

Alarms started going off in my head again, but I managed to keep my voice even as I stroked his mane. "It's… no, it's not your fault."

"See, it is, though. It doesn't matter, but, ugh…" He snorted, but his voice was still meek. "Soarin', what the fuck am I doin'? I up and left my town with a bunch of camera-happy psychopaths crawlin' all over, and I haven't even written back to Slate or Silverstar to see how things are goin'. They've gotta have their hooves full with all the stuff I left undone, and I don't even know how the orchard's doin' or who's runnin' it."

"Brae, you–"

"Keep listenin'. Please."

I shut up and held him a little tighter.

He continued. "I don't even know when I can go back. That's what hurts the most, I think. I need my roots, and I should know that better than anypony, but I went and tossed it all away because of some stupid, pretty lights."

My heart hurt. 'Or a stupid, pretty pegasus.'

Braeburn slowly stroked my hip. "I don't even like pink, Soarin'. It's too garish. Too out there. And I'm… Well, I'm feelin' pretty foolish right now. All this partyin' and mane dyin' and tight clothing…" He sighed. "This ain't me. Ugh. And I even… ugh!" He reached up and felt his ear. "I even went and got this thing done, and now I gotta keep it in for two weeks, and I don't even know if it'll heal. It's just been one bad decision after another."

My chest heaved a little. "I… think it looks nice."

"I dunno. I like it because it reminds me of you, but… I-I just feel silly, I guess. I'll be the only pony in Appleloosa with jewelry like this, mares included, and everypony's gonna give me funny looks."

"H-how can I fix it? I'll fix it! How can I fix it?" I felt my rear hoof twitch.

"You're sweet, but I think I just need some time." He sat up and looked me in the eye. "Is it okay if I have a couple hours to myself?"

I felt an arrow go through my heart. I was supposed to be the guy that knew everything. I was supposed to be there for him while he healed and learned what a great relationship was like, and I was supposed to be the one he turned to when he felt down.

I looked back at him, and the words just fell out of my mouth. "But I don't want you to feel alone."

"I don't think you can really change that right now. My family's gonna see those pictures, and they're gonna be all kinds of offended I didn't tell 'em sooner that I like stallions." He settled back down on my chest. "Or, hey, they might not talk to me at all. I was gonna tell 'em. Honest. This summer even, at the reunion, one-on-one. Had it all planned out, too. Who I'd talk to first, where I could find Big Mac if I needed some support… Comin' out's supposed to be so important, and it just feels like I got robbed. I don't get the chance to tell them myself, from my own mouth."

I weakly patted the top of his head. "I'm sorry."

"It'll be okay." He looked at me again. "Really, though, can I have some time alone?"

The word tasted bitter. "Sure."

"Thanks."

Leaving that room, I worried that I'd taken all the heat with me, that Braeburn was going to just shiver alone and not have anypony to keep him warm. We'd been together constantly for over a week, and everything felt colder as I walked out to the street alone. Cold, and like something was missing.

When I meandered onto the streets, there were already a lot of ponies running around, taking pictures and absorbing as much of the culture as they could. It didn't feel noisy, though. Nopony was talking to me, and my shoulders and head sagged lower and lower the more I walked. I thought about going for a flight, but my wings felt stuck to my sides. Even just walking felt like a chore. Amidst all the noise, it was quiet.

I didn't want to be alone that morning. Even more than that, though, I didn't want Braeburn to feel alone. He deserved to know that there would always be ponies there for him, that he always had a team. I wanted to show him. I wanted him to know I'd be there.

And sometimes, the world gives you a break. You look up just in time to see a familiar jewelry shop window and a yellow gemstone that screams at you louder than a stadium full of fans.

The whole procedure took about twenty minutes. I'd picked out a lemon quartz that matched Braeburn's coat perfectly, and even though getting my ear pierced hurt like a bitch, I felt good about it the whole flight back to the hotel room.

When I walked in, my heart fluttered, and my cheeks felt hot. Braeburn was at the desk, reading the paper again, but he turned to me with that same weak smile. "Guess we have different ideas about how long..." He cocked his head to the side. "Is that…" He squinted, and half-laughed, half-scoffed. "Huh! You didn't."

I looked down at my hooves and turned my head to give him a good view of my new stud, a yellow gemstone set into my left ear, on the opposite side of his. "You… don't have to be the only one that looks silly."

I could tell how red I was getting. What a sight, right? I'd been drunk off my ass in public, feeling up a stripper with my coltfriend, and through tons of embarrassing interviews, but no. No. Standing in front of Braeburn was the thing that made me shrink like a school filly in front of her crush.

When I looked up, he was shaking his head and smiling warmly. He stood, walked over, and gave me a big hug. He whispered into my ear, "You really are crazy, you know that?"

I whispered back, "Crazy for you."

* * * * *

I sneak a glance at his left ear. It's hard to see behind that mane. I wonder if he knows I'm staring.

Soarin' grins. "Go ahead. Take a look." Obligingly, he turns his head.

Guess so.

I squint my eyes, partly from the light shining off the cloud we lay on, and while I don't see any gems, there is a tiny, almost imperceptible hole there. I smile. "You still wear it sometimes, don't you?"

"Yeah, I do." He stretches his neck. "Neither of us really liked them at first, and I still think they're a pain, but they grow on you. Sometimes, it's nice to put it back and remember those good days. It helps a ton when the photos aren't enough."

I feel an eyebrow raise. "Photos?"

* * * * *

After a lot of cuddling in the middle of our hotel room, Braeburn pulled away. "We should think about packing up. The articles don't focus too much on Appleloosa just yet, but a few say we've been spotted in Las Pegasus."

"It's cool. I've had enough for one trip." I was lying.

"You're lying, but that's sweet."

I blushed again but quickly changed the subject. "So, where we heading next?"

Braeburn nuzzled me again, and he started using his clear, firm mayor voice. "Soarin', I'm a traditional pony."

I snorted and rolled my eyes. "Ya' think?"

"And there are certain things a pony like me likes to do."

My stomach was knotting, and I gave him a sideways glance. "Where is this going?"

"You're a good stallion, Soarin'. Like we say in the country…" He stood next to me, grabbed my neck, and kissed me on the cheek. "You're the kind of stallion I could bring home to Ma and Pa."

My eyes went wide, and my voice went flat. "Dude. Seriously?"

"Eeyup!"

I sighed. "Your parents aren't gonna, like, try to kill me, are they?"

"I've got faith you could outrun them."

I groaned. "Awesome…"

He patted my chest. "You'll be fine. They actually liked Bronze–" What the hell, right!? "–so they'll think you're even better." He glanced up at his mane. "Should probably take care of these colors, though. Can you wash it out? Special chemicals or something?"

"Yes, but…"

He tensed up. "But what?"

"Buuuut I want some pictures first." I ran a hoof through his mane. It wasn't as soft as usual, but I still wanted to bury my face in it. "I might never get to see you this pink again. There's a photo booth in the hotel lobby."

"But you're okay with seein' my parents?"

I wanted to stay positive, and it wasn't like I had any better ideas. "Sure thing, Braeburn."

"Heh. No pet name?"

I looked up and to the side, and my lip stuck out. "Nah. I don't need to pretend you're somepony else. I like the real Braeburn."

He nuzzled me again. "I’m lucky to have you." There was a small pause as he breathed in the scent of my face. "I still want a real pet name, though."

"Fine, but I get to use the best one then. I promise I'll make it better. You okay with that, Applebutt?"

Braeburn backed up half a step and smiled. Slowly, he nodded. "Yeah, I think I can manage. Now let's go get this over with. I miss that dark blue puff o' yours."

Those pictures came out great, by the way. We took a ton of them, and yeah, it was fun to show off the goofy hair and new studs. There were some goofy pictures and some cute ones, and I love 'em all. I've still got them up in my room, all over my mirror. I'll let you see them sometime.

Art by Tsitra360

Art by SoarandBurn

Art by AkatsukiBritt

Chapter 23 - To The Core

As great as it was to see Braeburn in all that pink, washing it out was even better. The chemicals worked like a charm. Maybe they've got some magic in them or something. I finished with his tail, and when everything was all done, I had my old Braeburn back, even if he was a little soggy. It made my heart feel bigger.

And I felt like myself again, too. Like Soarin' Bucking Windsong, Coltfriend Extraordinaire. I'd stuck it out with Braeburn while he played around being Gayburn, and maybe he was becoming a little more honest with himself and everypony else. At the time, I was thinking, 'He's starting to get it. He doesn't have to put on a public face to make somepony else happy. Good for you, Applebutt.'

We didn't want to go out on Friday after we'd washed off our disguises, because duh, so we spent the day cuddling in bed. His fur wasn't quite dry, and it felt a lot softer when I mashed my face into his chest. He smelled clean but like an apple orchard, with just a little hint of that freshly-cut wood from Appleloosa, and he kept squeezing me tighter with those strong legs of his. Mm…

…

Anyway, on Saturday, Braeburn's saddle bag showed up at our hotel room. Slate had sent it with a note explaining about how the media made it tough to get into Brae's house for a few days. The bag didn't have a ton in it – a heavy sack of bits, some clothing, a flask, and a fancy little box with stationery, quills, and ink – but Braeburn seemed a lot mellower when he held it. He put it on, even though we were still in the hotel room, which seemed weird. I asked him, "What, you leaving?"

He adjusted his shoulders and bounced a little, feeling the weight of his bag on his back. "Naw, just feels nice, like a little bit of home."

We got out of Las Pegasus easily enough. The Palomino Hotel is great like that. The celebrity liaison they have on staff knows how to handle the local media and how to "leak" information about where we'll be. It keeps them distracted, and then one of the Palomino's private cabs can get us right onto the train without having to deal with the crowds. Damn, I love being famous.

Our train left in the middle of the afternoon. We took the ride from Las Pegasus to Salt Lick City, where we stayed in a cheap motel.

Braeburn wouldn't let me pay, but as we walked into a dimly-lit, cramped room with a dingy bed, I saw him stiffen up a little before lowering his head. He shut the door and took a quick look around. "S-sorry it ain't much." He looked adorable like that, but I didn't want him to feel guilty. Yeah, it was less comfortable than I was used to, but he was with me, and I wanted him to know that that's what mattered. I stepped right in front of him. As he looked up, I moved my face closer to his. "There ain't many options outMMMPH!!!"

I'd leaned in and shoved my face into his for a quick kiss.

He pulled back, chuckling. "Heh heh. Well, somepony's frisky tonight. Like I was saying, though, I hope you don't mind such a humble plaMMMPH!!!"

I did it again. Harder this time, and with one leg around the back of his neck while I sucked on his lower lip.

Braeburn let me have my way for a few seconds before he broke our kiss. He shook his head and smiled at me. "Heh heh. Well, I see what you're doin', Soarin', and I appreciate it." He nuzzled my face. "But I'm still a little embarrassed. You're probably used toMMMPH!!!" He squeaked a little that time, too. I hopped forward, wrapped both forelegs around him, and wrestled him to the ground with a giant, open-mouthed kiss and a hell of a lot of tongue. We landed on the dirty carpet with a thud and with me on top, and I squeezed harder, caressing his flanks with my wings. He fought at first, but after a few seconds, we were moaning into each other's mouths, and he was stroking my sides.

Our moans slowed down, and when his breathing returned to almost normal, I pulled back and narrowed my eyes at him. "You know I can keep this up all night, right?"

Braeburn's golden mane was splayed on the carpet beneath me. His eyelids looked heavy, and I could practically read his mind. He was thinking, 'Now, there's a good way to spend our night.' He didn't say anything, though. Instead, he leaned up, licked my face once, and planted a soft kiss on my eye. We made out on the floor until our backs hurt too much.

We got dinner at some point, and we spent some time reading in the hotel room. Or at least, Braeburn did. I tried to. Braeburn had grabbed a book from a small library at the front desk, and I cracked open Braeburn's Whitewing adventure again. I was at the start of the heist, and it was supposed to be really exciting, but I couldn't get into it. I found myself reading and re-reading page after page. My eyes would skim over the words, just like they were supposed to, but I wasn't absorbing much. It was like a bunch of the words were in a different language. I… thought I was just tired.

It's crazy how easy it is to miss the important little details. You have to really be paying attention and know what you're looking for to see them, and I was getting to know Braeburn pretty well. He hummed to himself a little while we both read on the bed. He twitched, and he was nodding. He also hardly ever turned the pages.

I scooted over to him. "What's up?"

He drew in a sharp breath, looked at the opposite wall, and spoke in a quick, clipped tone. "We should probably get some shut-eye."

After brushing our teeth, we lay on our backs in bed together with all the lights out. A few rays of light from the streets snuck in through the faded curtains, enough to see the water-stained ceiling. Braeburn was breathing heavily, and the air smelled a little like whiskey. He'd snuck a pull from his flask when he thought I wasn't looking. After we'd both counted the stains on the ceiling a few times, he finally broke the silence. "So. Tomorrow." He took a long, slow, heavy breath. "You're gonna meet my parents."

I'd been thinking the same thing, but I didn't want him to worry. I think I overcompensated by making my voice too bouncy. "Yeah! It'll be great."

"Eeyup."

"Yep!"

…

We didn't look at each other. Neither of us were breathing normally.

"Should be a good time."

"Yeah!"

"Mm-hm."

The only noise was a couple talking softly on the other side of the wall. We stayed motionless.

We both wanted to say more. My thoughts raced in circles, and I kept thinking, 'He's nervous, but he's not freaking out, so I shouldn't say anything to make him worry. But I should say something to make him feel better. What's he thinking right now?' But I didn't say anything.

I heard some liquid sloshing around a small metal container again. Then something rattled near the top. It was followed by a chugging sound and the smell of sour mash. Then there was a small, muffled burp as the cap spun back on.

I didn't say anything.

Braeburn set his flask back down beside the bed, then flopped onto his back again. "We should get some shut-eye."

"Yeah."

"Okay."

"Okay." I looked over to him. "Good night."

"G'night." He rolled onto his side, facing away from me. I was still on my back, staring at the ceiling when he turned back my way. "Oh, almost forgot." He leaned and kissed my cheek. "Night." He rolled back over and was snoring in a few minutes.

I didn't sleep that night. Not much, at least. I kept trying to picture what Braeburn's parents would look like and how they'd sound and how they'd act. Maybe it was the fatigue, but I wasn't feeling very creative. All I could imagine were pegasi. One was a stallion with a cerulean coat and a short-cropped silver mane. He was smiling and saying a bunch of vaguely encouraging things. His… wife… was a mare with a light blue, almost white coat and soft, flowing, midnight-blue mane, and she had a look in her eye that told you she didn't really care for you.

And that got me thinking about Braeburn's relationship with them. I kept thinking that his dad must have been the level-headed one, and he was probably this warm, friendly guy that just wanted to hang out with Brae and shower him with love. And how it must have been his mom that had been stoic and judgmental. I thought, 'She must have been the one to make that crack about, 'Have you told anypony?' She probably looked him straight in the eye right before she turned away. I bet his dad stood up for him right on the spot.' I wondered if his mom had left the room and slammed the door after Braeburn had come out.

I talked to Fire Streak about that once. He called it a projection issue.

Braeburn's snoring lulled me to sleep after a few hours, but the sun came up too quickly. After a quick breakfast at the motel, we got into the carriage that would take us from Salt Lick City to the suburb where Braeburn's parents lived: Haulahay.

"It's gettin' too big," Braeburn explained as he stroked my mane. He was half-lying down with his back on the plush carriage seat, and I was resting my head on his belly, nodding off. Between the lack of sleep and the feeling of his hoof on my head, I was losing the fight to stay awake. His voice kept me conscious, though. "That's the suburbs, I guess, but my parents sure don't like it. Cuts into the farmland my pa manages. Course, they're settled now, and they don't wanna move again unless they have to."

"Mm-hm," I moaned. I took a deep breath of the fur on his belly. His scent was so masculine. I felt safe.

Braeburn kept talking, but every time he started explaining about the town or the farm or whatever, the subject came back to his parents, until he eventually gave up trying to avoid it. He petted me harder. "Just be yourself, and they'll like you." He'd said that four times already. You'd think it would have sunk in. "I'm sure of it." I could see out of my half-open eye that he was staring out the window, and his stomach rose and fell more quickly. "I'm sure of it."

The carriage rolled to a stop, and with a yawn and a stretch, I stood up and stepped into the blinding light of a Sunday morning. Haulahay looked like Appleloosa, but a little greener and a little more spread out. There were old and new houses all mixed together, but with vast stretches of sand and green patches between them. The roads were more well-defined, and the houses were bigger, too, and there were three water towers I could see. There were even some foals running around with their dogs. It was all a little too perfect, you know? It gave me an idea of what Appleloosa might become one day if it's successful, or if the property barons get to it.

The house right in front of me didn't seem too special. Big, yeah, but not any bigger than any of the other houses around. It was a green, two-story house with big windows and black shingling. The yard was impressive, and the path up to the front door was made of cobblestones. It looked so normal.

I should have been more nervous, but instead, I was just exhausted. I'd probably used all my nervous energy the previous night.

Braeburn hugged me suddenly and gave me a big, sloppy kiss on the side of the face. When I asked him what that was all about, he nuzzled my face and said, "Might not get another chance for a while." My heart sank.

We trotted up to the door, and…

Do you have you any idea how many normal things you do in a day? Like, just stupid stuff that you don't even think about. There's a ton of it! And when something interrupts you or changes something minor, it completely throws you off.

Braeburn didn't knock. He just opened the door and walked right in, and that moment seemed to stretch out forever. Of course he wasn't going to knock, but it threw me off my game. I think that's what started it.

"Ma? Pa? Ya' home?" Braeburn stepped inside, and like clockwork, he wiped his hooves, set his hat on the rack, and dropped his bag in a spot that looked made for it. Like he'd done it a million times. "I've, uh, got somepony I'd like you to meet!" His voice was overly cheery.

The gears turned in all my muscles as I stepped in and shut the door behind me. I stood up straighter and mentally went through the eleven-point posture from the Academy. My wings flared out a little. I set my jaw and hoped the bags under my eyes didn't look too bad. I was defaulting to Wonderbolt mode, all because he hadn't knocked.

A bouncy, low, feminine voice called from upstairs. "Oh, I'll be right down!" It had the same accent as Braeburn, but not quite as strong. A heavy thumping echoed on the floor above us, and before long, a smiling light-orange earth pony mare with a chestnut brown mane appeared at the top of the stairs. Her mane had streaks of blonde, and her cutie mark was a whisk. She was heavy-set, but her curves were in all the right places.

…

If you print that, I swear to Luna I'll throw you off this cloud myself.

"Well, if it isn't my little colt!" She rushed down the stairs and threw her forelegs around Braeburn. "Oh, I'm so glad you're home, Braeby!" She was talking fast. "I didn't know when we'd be seeing you again, and I wish you'd written ahead so I could make you something special, but I suppose life's been pretty crazy for you." Braeburn was struggling to pull away and stand up straight and stallion-like, but his mother managed to kiss him once on each cheek before he pulled away. As soon as he did, though, she had a hoof on his ear, fondling his blue stud. "Oh, that's… new. Huh." She took half a step back and stuck out her lower lip. "What made you want something like that?"

Braeburn shuffled in place. "Uh, hey there, Ma! Nice to see you!" He gave a wide, corn-ball grimace. He glanced up at his ear, and his cheeks went red. "Well, I think it looks nice, and, uh…" Braeburn eyes turned toward me. So did his mom's. He quickly stepped in front of her again. "Just felt like somethin' a little different."

"Oh, we can talk about that later," she said flatly before squeezing him again and nuzzling his cheek. "I'm just so happy you're okay." Once Braeburn had escaped her hug, she looked at me with eyes that didn't match her bright smile. "And who's your friend?"

Braeburn chuckled. "Oh, you're always botherin' Pa about takin' you to the Wonderbolts shows. I know you recognize Soarin' Windsong!" He gestured to me, and I flared my wings out a little more with a smug smirk.

"Oh, of course! I'll have to get my autograph book. Hope your father won't get too jealous. Hm-hm!" She had this weird chuckle that sounded like a hiccup. "Hm-hm!"

"Soarin', this is my Ma, Gala."

Gala stuck out a hoof. No hug for me. "Pleased to meet you, Soarin'. Welcome to Haulahay!"

I took her hoof. She shook it as hard as any stallion. I nodded back, and my voice came out stilted. I rattled off a few of the usual canned responses. "Great to meet you, Mrs. Apple! Always happy to see a fan. And sure, I'd love to sign anything you'd like!"

"Well, how about the deed to your house? Hm-hm!" She nudged Braeburn, who gave a polite little laugh, rolled his eyes, and mouthed "Sorry" to me. Gala perked up again. "I think Cortland's out on the porch. Probably taking a smoke break." She turned to me. "I try to get him to stop, but some ponies just can't be changed, I guess! Braeby, would you go get him? He'll be so happy to see you."

Ever see a pony relax and tense up at the same time? It's weird. Different parts of their body flex, and it gives them this wiggly look. Braeburn did all that, blinked a few times, and finally said, "Uh, sure!" He was looking right at me. He made a move to brush up against me, but under Gala's eyes, he flinched at the last second. "Be right back." He turned and walked further into the house. "Pa? I'm home!"

I watched him disappear before turning back to Gala. The words kept spilling out. "I meet a lot of stars, but Braeburn's something special." My voice grew even stiffer, and I didn't mean to add emphasis when I said, "You should be proud of him."

"Oh, I am." It was her eyes: they'd been perky in front of Braeburn, but they'd grown dull. She still wore a smile, but it looked fake. Wooden. "And it's always nice when he brings friends over."

Yeah. 'Friends.' I felt my wings hitch up. "Actually, I'm his coltfriend now."

There was no response.

She kept smiling through the silence. I kept smiling through the awkwardness. We both pretended everything was fine.

"Dinner's going to be ready soon. You know, I'm the one that taught him to cook."

"He's great at–"

"Oh, I bet he'd love to lend a hoof." She trotted away with a quick, "Come on in and make yourself comfortable."

We settled into a few chairs in the parlor. The house was… artificial. It had that homey vibe to it where nothing was out of place. Everything from the curtains to the wood tables to the rugs were perfectly straightened and dusted. I think Gala must have become a homemaker at some point and just kept the place flawless.

And there were photos everywhere. Family members, mostly, I think. On the mantel, a lot of them featured baby Braeburn grabbing onto a small, red-ish colt with a dirty blonde mane. Braeburn was the cutest baby I'd ever seen. Hell, his mane was beautiful even back then. The young colt he was with looked just as picture-perfect, and I began wondering why Big Mac was in so many pictures with him. I remember thinking, 'Big Mac looks so small. He was probably just Mac, I guess. Heh. Looks like they've always been close.'

Gala spoke up while I was staring at the pictures. "Hope you don't mind something simple. We don't eat many fancy meals here – just the basics. We're having stew tonight."

I sat up again, even though something at the back of my mind told me I'd never impress her enough. "That sounds great!"

"Good thing you showed up when you did, too. There was another reporter here until just a few hours ago. I swear, they've been banging on the door since last Sunday."

"Oh..." My head dropped a few inches, but then I put my game face back on. "Sorry about that. The 'Bolts get a lot of attention. Ha!" Ugh.

"Well, I don't know much about that. Usually the only news we get is about redistricting or some major event happening over in Salt Lick." Her eyes narrowed just slightly. "Seems like we're getting nothing but bad news these days. At least Cort's got us taken care of. I'm just happy we've still got a roof over our heads that Braeburn can come home to. I would have rather he'd let us know about what was happening, but that colt of mine has never been very good about bein' forward with information." It was clear where Braeburn got his big mouth from. "Don't much appreciate getting second-hoof news about my own son from a bunch of reporters, but that's how it is sometimes, I suppose. We're just not used to it, you see, but oh, this must all be just small potatoes to what you're used to, hm?"

I'd gotten lost somewhere around the spot she'd called me "bad news," but I stayed on-course. "Your house is lovely! Great decor. A lot of ponies are surprised, but actually most of the Wonderbolts like settling down someplace quiet every once in a while." Wrong, of course, but I couldn't help myself, and something about Gala didn't sit right with me. I didn't trust her.

Did I mention I have projection issues?

Not like I had much time to think about it, though. Braeburn trotted in with another stallion in tow. "Pa, I'd like you to meet Soarin'. Soarin', this is my Pa, Cortland."

Cortland was imposing. He was only about Braeburn's height, but he was filled out more, and he looked more solid. His hooves were planted firmly on the floor, and he stood motionless for a while. His coat was a brownish red, and his mane was gold with streaks of orange and brown, the opposite of Braeburn's, but Cortland's had a few small hints of gray. His cutie mark was, duh, an apple: a gold one with a lot of green leaves. When he spoke, he spoke slowly, but his voice was a little higher-pitched than I'd expected, somewhere between Big Mac and Braeburn. "Evenin'."

I stood up and moved over to him. "Nice to meet you. Soarin' Windsong, captain of the Wonderbolts." I held out a hoof for him to shake and put on my biggest, most official-looking smile.

He eyed my hoof for a moment, nodded, and shook it half-heartedly. "Pleasure."

Gala nodded us over to the kitchen. "Stew should be ready any moment now. Hope you like it. It's homemade with some veggies from the garden out back."

I nodded at her. "That sounds wonderful!" Too much enthusiasm, but it was fine. I looked over to Braeburn, who was a little stiff. I couldn't tell if he was breathing, but his eyes kept flickering between his parents' faces.

The table in the heavily-decorated kitchen was pushed up against the wall, under a window that looked out over a small backyard garden. It faced east – Gala and Cortland seemed like the type of ponies that would wake up slowly with the sun. The table was oblong, and the two places that were already set were on the long side. Gala quickly set two more places on opposite ends of the table, and Cortland settled into one of the center places. Braeburn and I would be as far away as possible.

The soup was tasty and warm, but the atmosphere was bitter and cold. I kept up my Wonderbolts routine, and Gala kept up her housewife act. She'd ask question after question about being a Wonderbolt and living in Cloudsdale, but every time I'd try to steer the conversation to Braeburn and me, she'd pull us right back to a different topic. I said something like, "Meeting Braeburn has been like a breath of fresh air."

Without hesitation, she jumped in with, "Speaking of fresh, I hear you don't get many fresh veggies up in Cloudsdale. Is that true?" She drank the rest of her soup, and I saw Braeburn frowning and playing with the potatoes in his.

Next to him, Cortland kept leaning toward Braeburn just slightly. The sides of his mouth curled up a little every time he looked at Braeburn, but it never stayed that way for long. His lips parted a few times. I think he wanted to say something, but nothing ever came out.

With a sigh, I set my spoon down. "Well, kinda. You can get it, but it's more expensive. The stuff we get is a lot less fresh. Mostly we eat a lot of dry goods. The 'Bolts get a bunch of our meals paid for…" The sarcasm started slipping into my voice, and I'd resigned myself to simply surviving instead of actually getting to know Brae's parents. "…but nothing as good as this soup, Mrs. Apple."

"Oh, you stop that. Hm-hm! See, Cort? You'd be starving without me."

Cortland gave a quick glance and a smile to his wife. "Sure would." After that, he went right back to looking at Braeburn. A million tiny adjustments kept changing his expression, showing everything from relief to anger to confusion. That was only with Braeburn, though. Whenever I managed to make eye contact, he'd just stare, and his brows would knit.

Braeburn was trying to talk about our trip. "You shoulda seen Las Pegasus, Ma!" He was putting on a show, too. "You'd have loved it. All sorts of things to do. Soarin' and I–"

"Oh, I'm sure I'd just get flustered," she said.

It kept going like that, and I just cruised through the whole thing. I kept looking over at Braeburn, and he looked like he was sick. His ears were down, he ate slowly, and he didn't say much after his first few tries had failed. I felt bad for the guy, not just as his coltfriend, but as another pony. He was trying to create this warm atmosphere, and I know he'd had a few fantasies about how the evening would go. But the conversation just played out between me and Gala like we were strangers waiting at the same bus stop.

I finished a second helping of soup as Braeburn set his napkin down. He'd cleared his bowl like a good colt, but without enthusiasm. We started clearing the table, and Gala was still rambling. "I'm glad you like it! Nothing fancy, but it does the trick. Now, you just relax, and I'll clear everything up, and then we can get you settled in for the night. We've got a rollaway bed that should be just big enough for you."

Braeburn perked up. "Well, Ma, Soarin' could sleep with me tonight. We'd make do."

Cortland stared out the window. He drew a sharp breath, and his forelegs tensed up. It wasn't hard to figure out what he was imagining.

Gala started running water in the sink, and there was a long pause. She grunted. "Oh, your bed's far too small to share, even with one of you sleeping backward. Wouldn't want Soarin's wings to get cramped. Hm-hm!"

It was painfully obvious that they'd had these conversations before. Gala wasn't accepting it. She wasn't accepting that I was her son's coltfriend, and she wasn't accepting her son. From that moment, I felt a fire behind my eyes whenever I looked at her.

Braeburn took a step forward. "Ma, Soarin' would be much more comfortable upstairs. Doesn't get nearly as cold up there."

"We have plenty of blankets, and a pegasus needs his space." She shut off the water and turned to me. "Sorry for the little spat. Braeburn's still my little Braeby sometimes."

My hackles raised, and my teeth ground together.

Braeburn sucked in a quick breath. His face was beet-red. "Ma, that's mighty condescending of you." His voice was lowering. "I don't much appreciate you talkin' down to me like that, especially in front of my coltfriend."

Gala looked to her husband. Cortland give a weak little shake of his head, but it didn't stop Gala from saying, "Well, I don't much appreciate you arguing in front of company, young colt. It's terribly embarrassing."

My eyebrows furrowed. I growled a little, barely keeping the scream in my chest from escaping. I took a step closer to Braeburn.

Braeburn puffed out his chest. "But if you'd just–"

"We're happy to have your friend over as a guest, Brae–"

Braeburn's face was redder than I'd ever seen it. His eyes scrunched up, and he shouted, "He's my coltfri–"

A booming voice cut him off. "That's enough, y'all." Cortland pushed himself away from the table and brought the last few dishes over to the sink. Just like Big Mac, his steps had a lot of gravity, even for a smaller pony, and nopony spoke until he'd set his dishes down and finished. "We'll figure out the sleeping arrangements later, but it looks like you two have some things to discuss. I'll show Soarin' around the place."

My muscles didn't relax, but I was relieved that Gala didn't say anything else. I looked over to Braeburn, who was blinking a lot and looking away. A big part of me wanted to argue, to stay with Braeburn in case he needed me, but I knew I'd only make things worse. Without anything else to fall back on, Wonderbolt Soarin' took over again. "Uh, sure! I don't get out to the country much. Let's go!"

Gala chimed in again. "Don't you worry. We'll have everything set up by the time you get back. Don't bore him to death, Cort!"

Cortland sighed. "Sure thing, Gal." He headed to the door.

Braeburn bit his lower lip, but he relaxed and smiled a little when I gave him a wink and blew a silent kiss while Gala was turned away. In my mind, I told him, 'I've got this. We'll be okay.' I think he heard me.

I cooled off once we'd walked out the door into the fading twilight. We walked down the main road outside their house, which led us in a curvy path around town. It was more of the same and exactly what you'd expect from the suburbs, but there were occasional fields of hay or alfalfa to break up the monotony, and the air was fresh and earthy, pleasantly heavy in my lungs.

I tried to make conversation. "So, what do you do?"

Cortland watched the road ahead. "Manage a few fields, mostly. Sold off a lot of my acres after Braeburn moved out, but the new owners don't know a lick about proper management."

"Ah, okay. I see where he gets his mayoral skills."

Cortland raised an eyebrow. "Braeburn's the mayor?"

"Well, not really, but yeah, kinda."

"Hm." He looked down at the dirt, and his shoulders sank. "Never mentioned it."

We walked, our hooves softly falling against the dirt road. We turned down a path around one of the hay fields, but Cortland still didn't say anything.

I couldn't take it. I put on a wooden smile and said, "Nice area out here. Maybe the Wonderbolts should do a show!"

No response.

I kept babbling. "I feel so blessed to see this part of the country." Can you believe it? Blessed? Ew. "Greener grass, kind ponies, good–"

"Oh, cut the act."

I felt a spike through my heart, but words kept falling out of my mouth. "Act? Naw, not me! I'm just Soar–" I stopped myself that time. Cortland had stopped abruptly and was looking me in the eye with furrowed brows. My wings felt heavy, and it was like his stare was applying actual weight to my back. "…Sorry."

He looked back up the road, and we kept walking. My thoughts spun. 'Shit. I blew it. Braeburn's gonna be sad. Can I fix it? I can fix it.' I wish I could say I'd stayed cool, but really it wasn't more than fifteen seconds before I broke again. "I said I'm sorry! You know, it isn't easy on us, either. The media's a bitch, and I feel super guilty for bringing him into it. Okay? You don't have to make it worse."

He remained stoic. "I didn't say a thing."

He was right, and that got to me. "Oh, shut up!" I hopped into the air and fluttered beside him. I completely forgot for a second that I was talking to Braeburn's dad – Cortland was just some douche that was making my life harder. "Yeah, fine, you didn't say anything, but you're acting all judge-y!"

"What am I doing?" he asked in an even voice.

"You're not saying anything! It's just quiet, and it's freaking me the buck out!"

"That's not the quiet's fault."

"Well, no, but–"

"So whose fault is it?"

"It's… Ugh!" I hovered beside him, fuming.

Cortland took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Unconsciously, I did the same thing. Maybe he did that on purpose. "My pa always said you could tell a lot about a pony by what he does in the dark." His voice was smoother, more laid back. "I suppose that means the quiet, too."

I cocked my head to the side. "The buck does that mean?"

His head didn't move, but he cast a glance my way. "You tell me."

"I dunno," I said in a huff.

"Yes, you do."

"No, I don't."

He whinnied quietly. "If you didn't, you wouldn't be uncomfortable."

My heart stopped. "Fine!" I wheeled around and plopped down in front of him. "It's because I suck, okay? I screwed up, and I've got the emotional maturity of a five-year-old, and now Braeburn's getting hounded by the media and we have to hide at his stupid homophobic parents' house!" My jaw snapped shut and my eyes went wide at what I'd said. "I-I didn't mean–"

Cortland didn't flinch, but his eyes were half closed. "No, go on." He spoke slowly. "What do you think of me? And be honest."

I hesitated.

Cortland took a hard step toward me. His voice was the same, but it felt like there was a lot of power behind his words. "Soarin', be a stallion for once and tell me to my face what you think of me. I can take it."

My chest felt tight. 'Fine,' I thought, landing and straightening up. "I don't like you, because you made Braeburn sad. He came out to you, and you just asked if he'd told anypony?" I sat down and threw my forehooves in the air. "What the hell!?" I jabbed a hoof to his chest. "He needed you, and you failed him." Something clicked, and I spoke through gritted teeth. "You basically abandoned him. And I can't. Fucking. Stand that."

I saw Cortland's lip quiver, just a little, but he never looked away. "Did I really abandon him, though? Isn't he in my home right now after bringing in a stranger and yelling at my wife?"

I got quieter and turned away. "He still needed you."

Cortland flinched. After a moment of silence, he walked past me. "At least you're finally being honest."

I turned around, and we kept walking around the fields of hay. It was quiet, but my chest wasn't as tight anymore. I was still pissed, but in a way, I was more at ease, if that makes sense. Earth pony magic, maybe? Or maybe finally getting to yell at him did me some good.

After a few more minutes, Cortland spoke up again. "You really care about him?"

I sighed. "Yeah. I do. A lot."

"He's a good stallion." His voice was suddenly rigid. "Done good for himself. Real go-getter. Has been since he was a tyke."

"Heh. Yeah." I thought about how focused he was while he was doing his not-mayor work, about how much he did to keep Appleloosa running. Thinking about Braeburn relaxed me. "What was he like when he was young?"

"Loved everypony. Seemed to really get attached, even as a newborn."

"Yeah, I saw those pictures of him clinging to Big Mac. Looks like he's always been his favorite."

Cortland's voice raised in pitch just a little. "Those are, uh… Those are Brae with his big brother, Jonagold."

"Oh! Duh." I chuckled. "Shoulda guessed. His coat looks like yours." Cortland didn't say anything. "Seems like Braeburn was really attached."

Cortland smiled, but his eyes sank. "Yeah, he was always grabbing onto Jonah. Made sense. Jonah always wanted to make sure Braeburn was okay. If Braeburn was crying in his crib, Jonah would run up to us and tell us, even in the middle of the night." His voice didn't have an edge anymore. It was softer, airier. Like he was talking to himself more than me. "Once, Jonah ran up to me, crying. I asked him what was wrong, and he said that Braeburn hadn't wanted to play with the blocks like they always did together, and Jonah was scared that Braeburn was sick or that he'd done something wrong and was a bad brother." Cortland looked my way, blinking rapidly. "Y-You have any siblings?"

I sighed and looked down the road. "Nah. Mom didn't even want one foal, I think."

He shook his head. "That's too bad."

"Yeah. Woulda been fun having a little brother. Or a big brother. Or sister, even." I looked back at him. "Where's Jonah these days? Is he founding a town somewhere, too?"

Cortland was dead quiet. His breathing had gotten heavier, and he was looking straight forward, neck rigid. "Car–" His voice cracked. He cleared his throat and blinked a few times and let out a big breath. His hoofsteps were a lot slower. "Carmine fever got him. Little after Braeburn's second birthday."

My body turned to stone, and we stopped walking. "Oh. I'm… sorry," I whispered.

A frog croaked nearby. The wind seemed to be colder all of a sudden, and it made a soft rustling noise as it blew across the grass and wound through the trees. The smell of freshly-cut and baled hay wafted to my nose from the nearby field. It was quiet enough that you could almost hear the stars twinkling.

Cortland moved over to an unpainted, wooden, split-rail fence at the edge of the hay field. He reared up on his hind legs and rested his forelegs on the top rail. I walked over and did the same.

Cortland looked up to the sky for a while before speaking. "Well, Soarin', I hope you never experience a loss like that. It's the worst feeling in the world." I couldn't think of anything to say, so I just looked up at the stars with him while he kept talking. "Had a lot of dreams for those colts of mine."

The fence was scratching my forelegs, but my body refused to move. "Like what?"

"Aw, nothin' too crazy," he sighed. "Dreamed about 'em growing up. Wanted to teach 'em all about being a right gentlecolt. About how to talk to mares and how to take 'em on dates and generally how to treat 'em right. And I think I mighta put too much stock in those fantasies after… after it was just Braeburn." He sniffled and wiped at his eye.

Dad. I remember thinking about my dad right then, about how he's always wanted to see me fly with the Wonderbolts, about how proud he was when he got to watch those first few shows. He'd always been so encouraging, and I would see him swell up whenever I succeeded. I thought about what Dad would have felt like if he hadn't gotten to see me, and in a way, I felt like I understood where Cortland was coming from.

I readjusted myself on the fence and looked down at the grass. "And Braeburn didn't have any interest in that stuff, right?"

Cortland sighed again. "Right. Course, I didn't think much of it at the time. Braeburn was just always so busy, you know?" He shrugged. "Always wanted to help out around the farm. Kept up his studies in school and volunteered wherever he could. Really took root in his community."

"I… saw the awesome work he does in Appleloosa, and it's unbelievable."

"Thank you, but I have to wonder how much of a hoof I really had in it."

"What do you mean?"

"He just seemed to drift away. I'm proud of all his accomplishments, of course, but as he became a young stallion, he spent more time away from us. When he told us one day, out of the blue, that he was moving to Appleloosa all on his own, it about broke Gal's heart."

I sneered a little. "Seems like she just wants to control Brae's life."

"Can you blame her, though?" He looked at me. His eyes were wet. "Our little colt wandered out into the world without hardly a goodbye. And on the few times we heard from him, he didn't seem happy, Soarin'. So we worried ourselves sick. And eventually, well…" His voice was suddenly choked up. "He told us the news."

My chest felt funny. It wanted to set itself on fire with rage, but it wouldn't light. Even if I couldn't look Cortland in the eye, though, I still needed to say something. "Yeah, but asking if he'd told anypony?"

"I wish Gal hadn't said that, and I-I wish I'd spoken up. But I didn't. I…" He stifled a sob. "Thought he was angry with us, or that we'd screwed him up, or that it was because he was lonely. Felt like we were l-losing him, too, like it was his way of telling us he didn't want us in his life anymore." Cortland was shaking, and it was rattling the fence. He started speaking more quickly. "And I hate all this, Soarin'. I hate how Gal just pretends like nothing's wrong, like he's just a colt again. And I hate how I'm not strong enough to fix it all. But it hurts like hell, Soarin'. Feels like I've failed. I wanted him to be happy and lead a normal life and raise a big family, but now, well, I'll never be a granddaddy, and it's tough to let that go."

Carefully, I scooted a bit closer. The cool breeze seemed to blow right through me. "But… you still love him, right?"

Cortland's eyes immediately watered. His head whipped around to face me, and his stoic expression had completely shattered. "Soarin', he's my son! Of course I love him. I always will, no matter what. Nothing in the world could change that."

It was Dad. That look he was giving me was just like that night Dad and I had been stargazing. I tried to say something, but the words got caught in my throat.

Cortland shook again, and he spoke quickly. "Soarin', what I wanted is a pile of shit compared to his happiness. But I see him goin' down this path of bein' with other stallions, and it brings him no end of sorrow. Appleloosa, Bronze, this new mess…" He sniffled. "It tears me up. He's my pride and joy, Soarin', the most important pony in the world to me."

My cheeks felt hot.

Cortland wiped a tear away from his face. "He's such a good colt, Soarin' – kind, hard-working, smart as a whip – but sometimes I think he's too love-drunk for his own good, and he doesn't know how to handle himself in the real world. And frankly, that terrifies me."

"Braeburn…" I felt a kick in my gut. It's the one you feel whenever somepony says something about somepony you care about. You need to defend them, even if they aren't really under attack. "Braeburn's really smart, and he's a lot better at this stuff than me, and I've been with tons of other ponies."

"Ha!" It came out half-sob, half-laugh. Cortland looked up at me and shook his head, a weak smile on his face. "Ain't exactly comforting to hear my son's courtin' a loose pegasus."

"Oh. Right." I shrunk, but when I saw that he wasn't mad, I tried to perk up again. "B-but he's really a good pony! Like, the best!"

Cortland looked up to the sky again. "Yeah, he is. And I miss him, and I want to be there for him, but he just never seems to want us in his life. That colt of mine will shoulder all the trouble in the world, and he'd never let on that he's struggling."

I thought about Braeburn back in Appleloosa. 'He probably never asks for help with the paperwork or anything, and he puts up with everyone's shit just because he loves the town. Buck, Slate didn't even know what an asshole Bronze really was.' Something about the way Cortland was sitting made me think, 'He probably doesn't know about Bronze, either.'

I couldn't keep it in. Maybe it was disrespectful to Braeburn, but he needed more ponies in his corner. "Bronze hit Braeburn."

Cortland snapped to attention. He still leaned on the fence, but his body was completely rigid. "H-how do you mean?" Even in the dark, I could see the fear in his eyes.

I almost pretended that I'd misspoken, that everything had been fine. But Cortland would have hated that, and I would have, too. "Just what I said. They'd fight, and Bronze would get violent."

Cortland froze for a second. His face twisted up, and he turned his head away from me. He took quick, labored breathes, growling every time he would exhale, louder and louder and louder. He started shaking, and I thought I heard him mumbling to himself. I could almost hear his heartbeat, and my wings hitched up out of fear.

Carefully, I leaned in just a little and softly said, "Uh… Cortland?"

"Dammit!" He raised a hoof and brought it down on the fence, which caved in with a loud crack! "Dammit all," he sobbed. His tail lashed back and forth. Looking out over the field, he shook his head and quietly repeated, "Never told us. He never told us." After that explosion of energy, everything became still again. But Cortland's face looked strained, like he was barely able to hold it all in.

No, Braeburn hadn't told them, and that petrified me, not just because of Bronze, but because it meant he wouldn't tell me everything, either. And it made me realize something: Braeburn couldn't live up to the ideal that I'd been holding him to. For weeks, Braeburn had been this perfect thing – he made me feel better, he did a great service to his town, and he was incredibly humble. But he wasn't just a victim of circumstance. My little Applebutt wasn't perfect. He had flaws, just like everypony else.

Just like me. Hell, I had a million more than he did. I got angry, I didn't think things through, I got jealous, I didn't trust ponies enough… But neither of us had really learned to let our guard down. "Being honest is… hard sometimes." When Cortland looked at me, I added, "You never know how somepony is going to take it."

Cortland was taking deep breaths. "Mh-hm." He wiped his face with a fetlock again. "Did…" He cleared his throat. "Did you know that Braeburn didn't tell us they'd split? He and Bronze, I mean. No letter or nothing. Just heard about it two days ago."

"I'm sorry." My voice was quiet. "Reporters can't keep their mouths shut."

"No." He sneered. "Not from them. Bronze stopped by on Friday afternoon."

My whole body tensed, and my head snapped up. "What?"

"Eeyup," Cortland growled before closing his eyes and violently shaking his head. He grumbled, "That… cocksucker said he was worried about Braeburn. Dammit. If I'da known he was beatin' up my son, I woulda… woulda…" His shoulder tensed, and he smacked the top rail of the fence again, this time splitting it completely in two.

I jumped back from the fence and threw my wing up to block the splinters, and when I lowered it, Cortland had pushed off from the fence and was staring at the ground.

He sighed. "But naw. Just dropped off a letter, said some words, and left." He hadn't stopped shaking his head. "Hard to believe a nice guy like that has a cruel streak. Was always pleasant when we met him."

"Yeah, well, he was a dick," I said flatly.

"But Braeburn never told us." Cortland looked up, but his eyes were droopy. "And it's shit like this that makes me worry." His eyes narrowed, and his voice grew sharp. "Don't you ever hit my son."

My eyes went wide, and I shook my head. "Dude, no! I'd never do that."

He let out a long, slow breath. "You say that, but I really don't know about you, Soarin', and frankly, I find it hard to trust another stallion with my son. Maybe you're an honorable guy, but I worry about you celebrities. I worry you're gonna treat him bad and throw him away once you're bored."

I reeled back a bit. "I–"

He looked me straight in the eye. "Promise me you'll do good by him, Soarin', and you'll try to make him happy. Just promise me that one thing."

Cortland looked like a lot of things in that moment. He looked like a proud father, one that wanted the best for his son. He looked like a scared colt that was only trusting somepony else because he didn't have any other choice. And he looked like he just needed to know that everything would be okay.

I nodded solemnly and stuck out my hoof. "I promise."

Cortland shook my hoof, whole-heartedly this time and with the smallest hint of a smile on his face. "Thank you. Hope you mean it." He looked back down the road. "Now, we should get back, 'fore Gal worries you're tryin' to make me a cocksucker, too."

For some reason, 'cocksucker' stung a lot less than 'coltcuddler.' Plus, he was being jokey with me. The tension melted out of my body, and for a second, I don't think Wonderbolt Soarin' existed at all. "Weeeeeell, you're not really my type."

He smiled, and with a cocked eyebrow, he asked, "And what type would that be?"

I gave him a smirk. "Straight."

He chuckled and nodded. "Good answer."

We finished the loop around the hay field and started back towards the Apple house. Wonderbolt Soarin' didn't show up for the rest of the night, and really, I think he's shown up less and less since then. Yeah, being honest is hard, but it's easier on the heart, and I'm getting better at it. I mean, hey, I'm telling you this story, right?

Yeah. I like real Soarin' better.

Chapter 24 - Pillow Talk

The walk back to the Apple house wasn't so bad. The air was comfortable, and my steps felt lighter. Cortland and I made small talk, and I found out he wanted to get Gala some Wonderbolts tickets for their anniversary. I promised him I'd pull a few strings, maybe get him some front-row seats.

Usually, I talk about that sort of thing with fans or special guests, and it's a way to keep them at a safe distance, but with Cortland, it felt more honest. I think it was because we'd been forced to open up. Maybe that's why we're built to hurt and fight and cry: you get to see who somepony really is, and your relationship ends up much stronger than before.

Our mood soured when we crossed into the house from the back porch. The gem lamps were on, casting the rooms in a magical, warm, yellow glow. But… there wasn't any talking, and actually, Gala wasn't anywhere. In the living room, the big plush chairs had been pushed aside, and in their place was a one-pony rollaway bed. It was tiny – barely big enough to fit me – and besides, it was already occupied by a big, sexy lump that still had his hat on.

Cortland looked around, and his fur bristled. He pulled me close and spoke in a low tone. "Much as I, uh… would like to grab a drink and continue our conversation, think I'd better check on Gal."

"Do… you think maybe you should talk to Braeburn first?"

Cortland nodded. He looked over to the bed and cleared his throat. "Uh, Brae?"

Braeburn didn't get up. Instead, he hiked the blanket up to cover more of his face.

Cortland frowned and turned back to me, then grabbed my shoulder. He spoke slowly, like his words were covered in needles and he had to coax them out. "Might prefer talkin' to you instead. Put in a good word for us?"

I paused. Something seemed really important about what he was saying. I didn't realize it until later, but he was trusting me with his son. Despite all my issues, he was giving me a shot. "Sure."

He nodded. "Alright, then." There was something calming about his voice. "Thank you. Night." Cortland took another long look at the bed and said in a loud voice, "Night, son. I'm glad you're home."

Braeburn didn't respond right away. He was still for a moment, then he shifted under the covers. "Night, Pa." For that moment, he sounded normal.

Cortland smiled just a little. He turned and walked up the stairs, which creaked when he got to the top. With a quick glance back at me, he turned to the right and opened a door, where he quietly said, "Gal?" and walked out of my view.

"Night," I whispered to nopony in particular. I turned and walked over to the lump on the rollaway. When he didn't move, I ran my hoof along the sheet. "Hey, Applebutt. Room for one more?"

Braeburn deflated a little.

"What's up, Brae?" I put two hooves on the bed.

A few seconds ticked by. I reached out to touch him, but he rolled over. He gave me a weak smile and spoke quickly. "I know how much you like it when the pillows smell like us, so I wanted you to have that, at least."

My wings drooped at my sides. "It… didn't go well, did it?"

He reached up and pulled my head in for a kiss on the cheek. When he let go, we stared at each other for a while. "Not really. Nothin' really did. There's a lot on my mind besides just Ma, and I can't help but wonder what's goin' on back in… Appleloosa." He was talking way too fast, and he stopped making eye contact. "Don't worry about it. I-it's just for tonight. We're leavin' in the mornin'."

"What happened?" I asked flatly.

Braeburn sat up and stretched his neck. He took a deep breath, and after he'd collected himself, his voice grew heavy. "Not really sure." He cast a quick glance at me, and his breathing was shaky. "More yellin', more words. My head's still spinnin' a bit."

Maybe it was the exhaustion, or maybe I was just emotionally drained from talking to Cortland, but all I could muster were basic answers. "That sucks."

"Yeah. Haven't gotten that riled up since puberty. Things will look better in the mornin', though. Do you wanna…" Braeburn looked up at me and fixated on my wings. He nuzzled me under my chin and said, "We should get some shut-eye."

"Yeah, I guess so." I yawned. "So, we heading upstairs?"

"I think we'd better…" He looked up at me with pouting eyes, and he didn't need to finish.

"Oh." I stepped back. "Uh… okay. Yeah. Sure." The sadness in his voice weighed down on me, and I perked up to try and lighten the mood. "It's just for one night, right?"

That made him pause. I don't think he was expecting me to agree. Hell, I hadn't been, either. "Sleep tight, Big Blue," he sighed. "Enjoy the smell, and dream of me tonight. I'll certainly be dreamin' of you."

"Yeah." It was a nice thought, but it still felt empty. No, dreams weren't good enough. Dreams are never good enough. I wanted to keep the real thing beside me forever.

But that wasn't what happened. I stood paralyzed by the bed, and all too quickly, my Applebutt walked up the creaky steps without me.

It took me a while to remember how my legs worked, but I eventually walked over and turned off the gem lamp. I flopped onto the small bed and inhaled. Even though he hadn't been there long, I could pick up his scent. I focused on that little detail for as long as I could, pushing everything else away.

I managed to distract myself for close to an hour, long after the ponies upstairs had stopped moving, but I couldn't keep my thoughts away forever. 'Poor Brae. He's right, though. We just need to deal with it until tomorrow. Things'll be better in the morning.' I yawned again.

I rocked up a little and fluffed my pillow. Something was bothering me, but I couldn't put a hoof on it.

My mind felt clouded, and I started having doubts about our decision to sleep in different beds. Maybe he'd just given in because he was sick of fighting? I wondered if it was really worth spending a night apart just to keep his parents happy. But was it worth pissing off his parents just for a single night together when we'd have so many more?

I laughed from sheer exhaustion. "Heh heh. Braeburn's right. I'd better get some–"

A thousand dominoes fell together in my mind. Well, at least five. 'Braeburn said the same thing last night. Last night he didn't want to talk. Braeburn doesn't like talking when something's bothering him. Something is bothering him, and he needs his coltfriend, and I'm his coltfriend. Braeburn needs me.'

It felt figuring it out all on my own.

Jumping out of bed, I made my way to the stairs in the dark. I lifted a hoof to the first step, but I remembered how they creaked at the top.

You know, stunt flying isn't just about speed. It's also about precision and small movements. I might not have been as good as Spitfire, but all the Wonderbolts can hover almost silently.

The sound of my flapping, quiet as it was, bounced all over the wooden house, and I started sweating at the thought of waking up his parents. Fortunately, a few crickets outside made some noise, too. I felt a rear hoof brush against the banister, so I pulled all my limbs in close as I got to the top. Once I was up there, though, I realized I had no idea which room was Brae's.

"...Dammit," I muttered under my breath. 'Okay, don't panic.' I looked around, my eyes adjusting to the low light. The hallway at the top of the stairs had four doors that I could see: one at the immediate right – his parents' room – with the bathroom across from it. I could see the sink just inside the barely open door.

To my left, there were two more doors: one was closed, and one was slightly open. I fixated on that last one and thought, 'He would have shut the door if he really wanted me to keep out, right?' I paused before deciding. Maybe I was overthinking (that would have been a first), but it felt like I was about to learn something big about our relationship, and it came down to one simple thing: had Braeburn left the door open for me?

I had faith.

I steeled myself, tried to push all those thoughts out of my mind, and went in, my heartbeat completely still.

The door swung slowly open, and a soft, velvety voice cooed, "And to think I was afraid you wouldn't come." There wasn't much moonlight, but I could make out Braeburn sitting up in a large bed, more than big enough for two ponies. "Close the door. Gently."

With nothing but a small click, the door shut. Braeburn scooted over, and I flew over to him, landing on my belly in the warm space he'd made for me. "I'll always come for you, Applebutt."

Braeburn ran a hoof along my wings, and for a while, neither of us said anything. It felt right being in the same bed again.

Braeburn spoke in a whisper. "They're really somethin' else." I felt his mouth wrap around some of the feathers near the joint, and I melted. Even in the dark, he knew just where to preen me to completely shut me down.

He took his time, and while he worked, all the other problems in the world drifted away.

Eventually, he scraped some of the dust off of his tongue, quietly so I wouldn't notice very much, and moved a little closer. "They can carry you at the speed of sound, but they're quieter than the night. And they're so soft… Really are somethin' else."

I wanted him to relax, but I knew he'd never let me take care of him with his parents a few doors down, so I had to get crafty. I lazily said, "Rub my head?"

Braeburn pulled back. "Uh… sure. You got a headache?"

"Sort of. Here, sit back." I rolled onto my side and nudged him.

He hesitated, and he probably knew what was up. In any case, he sat up and scooted back, letting me rest my head on his chest with a foreleg draped across his belly. He started running a hoof down my mane. "Like that?"

I pretended to think about it, but after a count of three, I said, "Yeah, it's good, buuuut I'd rather get a tonsil massage." I touched him gently.

Braeburn just shook his head and chuckled. "Heh heh. Ya' sly bastard. Don't suppose I can get away now?"

I looked up at him with a big grin. "Nope. You're mine."

"Heh. Alright, alright. Just keep it down."

We kept quiet, and slowly but surely, I took his mind off of everything that was bothering him.

About half an hour later, he gave a shuddering sigh. "Thanks, Big Blue. I think I needed that." He hugged me. "Anythin' I can do for you?"

"Nah, I'll be fine." I cocked my head to the side. "Plus, I'd probably just end up screaming or something."

"Heh heh. Yeah, you're right." He snuggled down under the blankets with me, letting me spoon him. He laughed again, bathing in his afterglow.

I let him have a few moments of peace before a question welled up in my mouth. "So… how did things go with your mom?"

He tensed a little in my grasp. "Oh, you don't wanna hear about that." Cortland was right: he was avoiding talking about it.

"Yeah, I do." I bumped the back of his head with my nose. "C'moooon. What happened?"

"Everything's fine."

'Seriously? He wants to play this game?' I rolled my eyes and sneered, and my voice got a little louder. "Okay, but what did you talk about?"

Braeburn was quiet for a while. "You don't need to worry, because I'd rather not say."

He was shutting me out, and my blood started to boil. Hadn't he promised to tell me when he was unhappy? "Well, too freaking bad, because you're going to tell me, because you can't just hide from your coltfriend!" I was barely able to keep myself at a loud whisper, and he cowered, which made me realize exactly what I'd said. "S-sorry! Shit!" I'd yelled a little in his ear. "Oh, sorry. Ugh, dammit... Sorry I suck at this."

Braeburn relaxed just a little, but he didn't move to face me. "No, you're right. I shouldn't…" He sighed. "It's strange, Soarin'. She wants her Braeby, and I have to wonder if she sees who I really am. I don't know if she even loves me anymore."

My words spilled out. "Yeah. Moms can be bitches."

A swift jab almost knocked the wind out of me, and Braeburn snapped at me in a harsh whisper, craning his neck to look at me. "Do not talk about my mother that way!" He stared at me with furrowed eyes and flared nostrils.

"Jeez, I'm sorry." I wasn't.

But then, after a moment, I was. I remembered Cortland out in the fields, and if he had trouble showing Braeburn how he felt, well, Gala could, too. "She still loves you. Both your parents do."

Braeburn's expression softened a little. "Heh. Pa tell you that?"

"He told me… a lot."

I waited for a response. Braeburn wasn't going to budge, but I wasn't going to let him shut me out. "Do you remember Jonah at all?

"Oh." He shrunk a little. "So that's what you talked about."

"Yeah." If I'd been able to hang my head, I would have.

Braeburn let his head fall to the pillow, facing away from me again. "I think so. It's tough, though, 'cuz I was so young, and a lot of those times might've been with Big Mac. Hard to say, but… yeah, I think I do."

It didn't feel like regular rambling Braeburn. He talked more slowly, and his voice had this airiness to it. I gave him a little squeeze to let him know that… well, I don't know what I was trying to say with it, but it felt right.

He continued. "Even if I can't always see his face clearly, it just feels like he's there, you know? Sometimes, I have to wonder if he ain't still around here somehow, like he's still watchin' me and tryin' to protect me."

"That's… yeah. I get it."

"And… never mind."

"What?"

"You'll think I'm crazy."

"I already know you're crazy. Crazy for–"

"Okay, fine!" Braeburn cuddled back into me. "Sometimes, it's more than just a feeling. Sometimes, it's like I can hear him talkin' to me. And I talk back, and it feels good, like I've still got a big brother when times get tough." He let out a nervous laugh. "Heh. Crazy, huh?"

It wasn't. My voice came out a little choked, but without hesitation. "I talk to my dad all the time, and I can hear him, too."

Braeburn paused, then scooted away a bit and rolled over to face me. Our eyes met, and he leaned forward to kiss me on the lips. He started stroking my face. "I must sound mighty selfish, complainin' about my parents. I should be grateful I still have them at all."

I thought about Mom and how I hadn't even considered contacting her since Dad's funeral. "No. I get it. It's tough. It sucks." My brain had started failing again, partly because his hoof felt so nice on my face. I closed my eyes and just enjoyed it for a while.

"What does your dad say?"

"Lots of stuff," I sighed. "Sometimes he's proud of me, and sometimes he's not." I remembered my condo. "Aaaaand sometimes he tells me to clean my room."

Braeburn laughed. "It's always what you need to hear, though, right?"

"Right."

"Must be nice."

I whinnied quietly. "Feh. Be better if he hadn't left in the first place."

Braeburn stopped touching my face. He shook his head a little on the pillow. "He didn't leave you, Big Blue. At least not intentionally."

Yeah, he was telling the truth, but I didn't want the truth. I wanted to be angry at both of them for leaving me. I wanted it to be simple like that, where I could be mad at them and I would be totally right. "Well, it felt like it," I spat. "Especially after Mom left."

My heart rate picked up as that scene played over again in my mind. I was right back there at the top of the stairs, and I could hear the door slam. My hackles raised.

"You can't dwell on stuff like that, Soarin'. You gotta focus on the ponies that are still here, and forgiveness is a hell of a lot easier than carryin' around a grudge."

My fur bristled, and I felt like I was in a corner. "What, like you?!" I shuffled back a bit and pointed at the door. "Your parents are right there, and you don't even talk to them!"

Braeburn snorted and got snippy, but he was doing a much better job of keeping his voice quiet. "Well, y-you should talk. How long's it been since you tried to make amends with your mother, huh?"

My muscles tightened, and my teeth clenched. "Oh, fuck you!"

Braeburn's eyes went wide, and he shrunk back, like a puppy that had just gotten smacked.

The guilt hit me like a kick to the teeth. I tried to muster another apology, but my face felt wired in place.

Braeburn stayed silent for a few moments. Even though he was within a wing's length, he felt distant, like I couldn't touch him if I'd tried.

When I covered my eyes with a hoof, he spoke up with his mayor voice. "Well, we should both quit yellin' before we hurt each other. Truce?"

There isn't a word to describe how thankful I was as I peeked out from behind my hoof. "Yeah. You're right. Truce."

Braeburn blinked at me a few times, making a face like there was something weird hanging out of my mouth. He nodded. "Alright."

I couldn't hold eye contact, so I looked down at his chest. Like always, I wanted to bury my face in it, but at the time, I felt like I didn't deserve it. Instead, I just stared and thought about his heartbeat, of all things. Braeburn had a strong heart.

After giving myself a few more seconds to breathe, I looked back up at him. I couldn't think about Mom anymore without saying something stupid, so I had to change the subject. "You should talk to them, though. Your dad isn't good at opening up, but he really, really misses you."

Braeburn was slow to respond. He was looking at my chest, too. "Funny how he can open up to some ponies and not others."

"He's scared, Braeburn."

Braeburn's ear flicked. "Of what?"

I told him about what Cortland had said, about his dreams for his sons, and how the most important thing to him was Braeburn's happiness. It took a long time, but the more I talked, the more Braeburn looked up at me, eventually hanging on every word. I finished by telling him how Cortland would never stop loving him, no matter what.

When Braeburn didn't respond right away, I worried that I'd said too much. His eyes unfocused, and he scratched at his chest. "Dad said all that?"

"Yeah."

"Wow."

The silence dug into me. I leaned my muzzle in a little, but I hesitated before I actually kissed him. I wanted to make everything better and apologize again for all my stupidity, but we were kinda focused on him at the moment. "He was really sad you didn't tell him that you'd broken up with Bronze."

"They would have just–" He sighed. "I'm makin' excuses. I should have told them." He looked at me, staring right between my eyes for a few moments. "Bronze was here on Friday."

"I know. I… sort of…" I looked away and mumbled, "…told your dad that Bronze was an abusive asshole."

Braeburn was quick. "What did he say?"

"He just wished he would have known, and he kiiiinda flipped out."

"Angry?"

"Sad."

"Cried?"

"Mmm, broke a fence."

"You said he was sad!"

"Well, he was sad-angry. Sangry?"

Braeburn snorted and laughed a little.

His laugh made me smile, but only for a second. "Why was Bronze here?"

"Same as always, I reckon. Stopping by to…" He paused. "He had a letter for me."

Braeburn had thought about lying to me. I didn't know whether to be sad that he's almost done it or happy that he'd come through. In the end, though, he'd told me the truth. The door was still open.

"You shouldn't read it. It'll just make you angry. Sangry." His voice was wavering, and he wasn't looking at me. "Was kinda hopin' you wouldn't find out."

My voice was flat. "Well, I did. Lemme see."

Braeburn stopped and just looked at me. His lower lip was stuck out a bit, and he blinked at me a few times. Once or twice, he tried to speak, but it wouldn't come out.

I nuzzled him. "What's wrong?"

"Promise you won't be mad?"

"Dude, I'm gonna be pissed if Bronze said anything that upset you."

"No. At me. Please don't be angry with me."

I sat up and stared at him. Braeburn was trying to prepare me for something, but I had no idea what. "Uh, sure."

With a heavy breath, he sat up and reached over to the gem lamp. Rubbing it half a turn clockwise, it bathed the room in a dull amber glow, and I could see everything in his room for the first time. It looked like a young colt's room: bright colors and shapes painted everywhere, including a big tree mural on the wall opposite his bed. It had some black marks on it, showing how tall Braeburn had grown over the years. There was an old toy box in the corner that was stacked with wooden trees and trains and some sports stuff. His old desk was still there, too, much too small for him to use now. On the side was pinned a crude drawing of an apple orchard, but all the trees were organized evenly, and it even looked like he had some measurements on it.

I smiled. "So, you were always good at running everything."

Braeburn looked over to me, then at the drawing. "Hm? Oh, heh heh. Yeah." He cracked a smile. "Was only a few years old when I made that. The look on Pa's face was priceless." Braeburn stared a little longer, then went back to unlocking the drawer at the nightstand by his bed.

"Why do you lock it?"

"I, uh… didn't just draw orchards when I got to a certain age." His face scrunched up.

"No way." My eyes narrowed. "You seriously drew your own porn? Let me see let me see let me see!" I dived toward the nightstand.

Braeburn perked up. "Wait, quiet!" He intercepted me, tackling me back onto the bed. He pinned me down with a lot of force and stared wide-eyed at me for a long moment. I was too stunned to do anything, but eventually Braeburn blushed hard and looked away. "Just don't laugh, okay?" He got off me and grabbed a few papers from the drawer. He hesitated again, then finally gave them over.

I rifled through them, and I thought I would have laughed, but… no. They were crude, yeah, with bad perspective and a few parts that were monstrously out of proportion, but they were… I dunno. It made me feel warm in my chest, and they seemed so precious. I was afraid of bending or damaging them at all, so I was super delicate with them.

I looked back to Braeburn. He was shrinking and glancing my way every few seconds, and I had this overwhelming urge to kiss him. I carefully set the drawings down, gently brought his face close to mine, and rolled on top of him, kissing him deeply. There wasn't any urgency, and he didn't resist. We just kissed each other like that, tongues swirling around each other and enjoying each other's breathing.

I didn't realize it at the time, but that was one of the most intimate moments of my life. Not because of the drawings – they weren't hot, like, at all – but because he'd let me see another part of him. He'd let me in. I'd gotten to find out who he'd been in the past and how he'd become the stallion of my dreams. In a weird way, I'd gotten to see him growing up. I'd gotten to be a part of his life that I had no expectation of seeing, and he'd let me in. I'd gotten to be part of the process.

And the process was beautiful. Ponies get weird ideas about falling in love. A lot of them think it just happens one day – something clicks and bam! You love that pony. Some of the more cynical ones like me thought it was all just a sham, but it's not either of those. Even now, it's impossible to figure out exactly when I fell in love with him. It doesn't work like that. You stay around a pony, and you fall deeper and deeper and deeper into it, and your other half keeps coming up with more things for you to learn about them. It's a beautiful process, because once it starts, you can never stop it. That's what makes it so terrible, too.

Our lips parted, and I closed my eyes and rested my forehead against his. With a lazy hoof, I brushed at his side, and he did the same for me. If not for the lamp, I would have fallen asleep then and there.

Braeburn spoke first. "You're somethin' special, Big Blue."

"You, too, Applebutt."

He reached around my middle and hugged me tightly. It wasn't the usual kind, though. It reminded me of a young foal that hugs you after a Wonderbolts show and doesn't want to let go. "I want you in my life, Soarin'. I like you bein' here. And I want my family to want you, too."

I paused. It seemed like such a weird thing to say out of nowhere.

"Yeah." I tried to wrap my brain around everything he was saying. Would Braeburn's parents accept him someday? How long would it take? In the end, I couldn't picture Gala and Cortland ever being totally comfortable with it. "That'd be nice."

"And I think we've both got some peace to make with our folks."

Subconsciously, I think I was determined not to go there again. A small, sarcastic chuckle forced its way out. "You might. I don't."

"Soarin'..." He reached up and turned my chin to face him. I hadn't even realized I'd looked away. "There's nothin' at all you want to say to her?"

It was those piercing green eyes. I think he knew how powerful they were.

I gulped and muttered, "I'm… over it."

Braeburn shook his head and chuckled. "If ya' were, you wouldn't have been cryin' about it back in Appleloosa." He was right, of course. Braeburn was the only one I'd ever talked to about Mom, and he knew how much it still affected me. "It's okay to feel hurt."

"I'm over it." Broken record.

"She'll talk to you, Soarin'. Hell, if what you're sayin' about Pa is even half true, I'm sure your mom'll make the time for you. She at least owes you that much."

"She won't want to." I rolled off him and faced away.

Behind me, Braeburn scooted closer and spooned me. "No, she probably won't want to, but she'll be reasonable. You need it, Big Blue. All you gotta do is find her and ask." He kissed my neck.

I stared at the wall. In my head, I was on the stairs again, looking down at Mom, right as she turned away and left. My voice was weak. "I can't." I felt like a foal, whining to his teacher.

Braeburn held me for a minute. "Yes, you can." His voice was even. "I know you're strong enough. And, well…" He squeezed me. "If you need somepony to show you it can be done, I suppose that falls to me." He kissed my cheek again and got up out of bed.

I peeked over the covers. "What are you–"

Braeburn looked back from the door and smiled. It was a broken smile, and he couldn't hide the sad drooping of his eyes or the nervous way he was biting his lip, but he was trying for me. "You don't gotta be the brave one all the time, Soarin'. I'll take the lead on this one, so get some rest. This might take a while." He slipped out the door and was gone.

I watched the doorway, waiting for him to reappear. Instead, I heard hoofsteps move down the hall and across the creaking floor. There was a small knock, and then a door opened, followed by Braeburn timidly asking, "Ma? Pa?" I couldn't hear anything until Braeburn followed up with, "Yeah. Sorry 'bout waking you, but I, uh, I think we need to talk."

The door clicked shut, and I was alone.

The gem lamp still cast its yellow light around the room. I rolled onto my back and wondered, 'Is he going to tell them everything? How long would that even take? Nah, he'll be back in five minutes.' I felt horrible for not believing in him. 'I hope they'll listen. I hope he'll listen.' Then I wondered if I would ever listen. 'Mom wouldn't even want to talk, would she?'

I thought about all the ways it could play out, about how Mom probably didn't have my address anymore or have any way to contact me. 'Has she tried? Maybe I just haven't been getting them.' I told myself I was being stupid, that she'd walked out of my life and never come back, and she would have given up on me a long time ago.

I wanted to believe I'd given up on her, too, but if I had, then why did it hurt so much? Why did it still feel like there was that hole in my life that couldn't ever be filled? I guess that's what leaving does to ponies: it denies them closure. Not that closure's necessarily better.

'Should I try to contact her?' I wondered if she'd moved. I hadn't heard from her since just before Dad's funeral. I still had that letter, the one that started with, "I'm sorry for your loss." It was still upstairs, still with that picture, the one I never looked at but couldn't bring myself to throw away.

My brain was caught in a spiral. It was weird, though. I wasn't getting angrier or anything, and there wasn't really much of an emotional reaction at all. There was just this itch to know more. I wanted to have the conversation and be done with it.

Heh. I… wanted to talk to her. I wanted to talk to her. Nice work, Braeburn.

'What would we even talk about?' I imagined us at some upscale restaurant somewhere – Mom always liked the fancy places – talking like two adults who had just met. She'd sip her coffee and talk about the weather and maybe give me a half-hearted congratulations for all my success. And I'd ask her about her life and pretend I wasn't on the verge of tears.

I about sunk through the floor when I thought, 'Sweet Luna, what if she has kids!?' My frown threatened to break my face. 'She'd never want more, right?' I realized how little I knew about her. She could be a completely different pony from the one that left us. 'But she's not,' I reminded myself. 'She only cares about herself.'

That wasn't completely true.

One time, when I was sick and had to stay home from school, she took a day off from her job at the weather factory. I woke up to the smell of huckleberry pancakes. They were my favorite, and something I only ever got at restaurants. Sitting up and rubbing my eyes (and fighting my stomach not to vomit), I saw Mom sneak in with a plate in one hoof and a bottle of syrup in the other.

"Sweetie, how are you feeling?" Her voice was raspy. Her eyes were droopy and a little bloodshot, so she must have been up for hours. "I've got a treat for you." She was trying to pull off the caring mother routine. It wasn't quite working, and her tone made it sound like she was talking down to me. She wasn't used to it. Most of the conversations we had were cold and only as necessary. She sucked at it.

....

Sorry. I shouldn't…

She was trying. She deserves credit for that, at least. I guess.

Mom cleared her throat, and she went back to sounding like her usual self: flat and to-the-point. "Most of them were burned, but I managed to get a few right. Remind me to clean up before your father gets home." She set the plate down in front of me and poured me some syrup.

I devoured them. They were sweet and sour and fluffy and perfect. Every bite was amazing.

It's too bad I threw up half an hour later. Turns out berries are harsh on a sick stomach.

But you know? After I got better, she made them for me again. She complained loudly from the kitchen the whole time, but she did it, and they were even better.

It still hurts. It hurts to think she could have gotten it right, could have been a great mother, and she still left. It could have gone so well, and sometimes it seemed like it was, but she didn't want that. She didn't want us.

I couldn't shake the thought that things were going so well with Braeburn, too, and there are some trains of thought that you just can't derail.

I thought about him leaving. I had no idea how I'd react. 'Heh. Probably'd trash the entire freaking town.' A nervous laugh escaped my lips. I didn't want to think about it, so my eyes darted all around the room, looking for something to distract myself.

My eyes settled on the nightstand with the open drawer. I sat up and plucked up an envelope. It was cream-colored with the word "Braeburn" written on the front in fancy hoofwriting. I sneered at it, and my expression only got bitterer when I flipped to the back and saw a little heart sticker had been used to seal it.

I realized I had no idea what Bronze was like. Maybe he was really sorry? That didn't excuse his behavior, but I wondered if ponies could change. I wondered if maybe he'd gone through some shit, too, and if he was really trying to fix everything. I took out the letter, squinted at the text, and read:

Hey, Appleslut,

My heart pounded, and suddenly everything looked red. The paper crumpled in my hooves, and my teeth ground. My first thought was, 'I'm going to fucking kill him.'

It took me a long time to get through the letter between my rage and everything else, but I managed to finish all of it.

Certainly didn't take long to hop on another pegasus, did it? Did you even wait until the bed was cold before you grabbed the next piece of meat that flopped into your lap, or were you cheating on me the whole time?

Shouldn't be surprised. You never think of anypony but yourself in the heat of the moment. What about all the ponies back in Appleloosa? It's going to be tough for them to adapt. I know it's tough for me, but I guess you've already moved on…

It's terrible, Brae. I'm not even mad, just disappointed. But I'm here for you, Applebutt. If I'm right, you'll ask your parents to bail you out again, and by the time Gal gives you this letter, I'll be back in Appleloosa, taking care of the orchard you were in such a rush to abandon. I'll tend to it for as long as it takes, until you're ready to apologize – not just to me, but to your town.

But you know what, Brae? I already forgive you. You weren't in your right mind, not with the fight, and not with this new fling you're rebounding with. I understand: you're under a ton of pressure. That's why I wanted to help out with the orchard in the first place. And I'm sorry you got so offended by that, I really am. I didn't want to hurt you, but you deserve the truth.

And the truth is, the Braeburn I love – and you know I do love you Brae, with every part of me, just like I know you still love me, deep down. It's what keeps me going. I need you, Brae. You're the one shining star in the night sky. Do you remember what you said that night on Silverstar's roof, Applebutt?

The Braeburn I love would make it right. I believe in you, and I know you'll come around. See you soon.

Your wings, always,
Bronze

I shook. I growled. I seethed.

And I was so, so scared. Those lines about their history together… It was all too real. This was part of his history, too. I remember hyperventilating. 'Does he still have feelings for him? What the hell's going to happen when he goes back to Appleloosa? Fuck, if he goes back, what happens to us?'

I clutched the paper to my chest and stared up at the ceiling, a few tears running down my cheeks. "He wouldn't… go back, would he?"

Out of nowhere, Appleloosa became the scariest place in Equestria. Just picturing it made me shiver, and it got worse when I imagined us getting off the train only to see Braeburn throw himself on Bronze. It felt like a knife in my stomach. Braeburn was, hooves down, the best thing in my life, and I told myself he wouldn't do that to me. "Would he?"

It was questions. All questions, and no answers. I realized how pathetic I must have looked, tossing under the covers while my thoughts spun in circles. My body twitched, begging me to fly or beat up somepony or anything. I tried to relax, but no position felt comfortable.

My voice felt choked, but I had to fill the silence. "He's not gonna listen to that asshole, right?" More questions, things that I should have been confident about, but that filled me with doubt. It was an icy, prodding feeling deep in my chest.

No, it wasn't the worst thing I'd ever gone through, but it still sucked, and it didn't let up. I wanted to get up and fly, and I was about to when Braeburn finally opened the door. I quickly set the letter on the bed next to me and wiped my eyes.

Braeburn's mane was frazzled, his shoulders slumped, and he had bags under his eyes, but he was smiling. He looked peaceful, like right after a workout on a day you've been super stressed. After closing the door, he sighed as he slowly walked over to the bed. "Gonna sleep well tonight. You were right, Soarin'." His voice was raspy. "Feels like a load off."

I tried to focus on the here-and-now. "H-how did it go?" I was happy just to have my mind on something else, even if my thoughts kept asking, 'Not so well that you're gonna go back home, right?'

"Hoo…" He let out another deep breath. "It was good." His head cocked to the side, and he looked up. "Nothin' miraculous, but a hell of a lot better. Now, I need a hug from my coltfriend, the one who's sharin' my bed tonight, regardless of what anypony else thinks. It'll make a hell of a chaser after a shot of catharsis, I'd wager." He flopped onto the bed and wrapped his legs around me. "Mm…"

My hug back was weak.

He noticed. "Soarin', you're trembling. What's got you shook up?"

My eyes flickered over to the letter next to me. He saw.

"Oh." He scooted in again and held me more gently. "You're sweet, Big Blue. Yeah, it hit me pretty hard, too. But don't worry about me none. I can take it, but thank you."

I felt like an asshole. Braeburn's well-being had gotten buried under my concerns for myself. "I… yeah." I squeezed him back.

His warm breath on my ear calmed me down a little. He held his mouth there and whispered, "There's something else botherin' you, though. What is it?"

My tongue and my stomach played tug-of-war with a question. I wanted to know, but I couldn't let myself find out. I had to be sure, but what if the answer was 'yes'?

But Braeburn was right there with that magical voice of his. "It's alright, Big Blue. You can tell me anything."

And that was all it took. My voice was small and shaky and weak, but he managed to coax it out of me. "Do you still… l-love him?" That word burned.

Braeburn paused. He ran a hoof through his mane before stroking mine, which kept me from freaking out while he thought. "Well, yeah, I do, at least a little."

I sobbed, and my heart stopped.

Braeburn kissed away a tear that was forming at the corner of my eye. "Shh, Soarin'…" He nuzzled me. "Ya' gotta understand, Big Blue. We were together a long time, and we only just split recently. I know it's been rough on you, but it's been rough on me, too. That's just how it is. Don't really know what else to say."

I jumped in with, "You could say you lo–"

"Do you really want to hear it now? Like this? When you don't know if you're sayin' it because you're scared or because you really mean it?"

I was choked up. He was right. I didn't want the first time to happen that way. When I tried to speak, nothing came out.

"Big Blue, you're a hell of a guy. You've got a sense of adventure, you're quick-witted, you're the handsomest devil I've ever laid eyes on, and you've got a big heart, and don't let anypony convince you otherwise, especially that last bit. I like you, and right now, I'm here, and you're here, and that's right where I want us to be."

His words shouldn't have been comforting, but they were.

I looked up into his eyes. I wanted to fall into them, to drown in them and never worry about having to leave. They were big and green and beautiful and focused right on me. "But you're never gonna abandon me, right?"

He kissed my forehead. "Never's a long time, Big Blue. Hell, you've only been in my life a couple weeks, and these things take time, and I still have no idea what the hell's even goin' on most of the time. I don't wanna rush things more than we've had to." I felt a warm cheek rub against mine, and his voice fell quiet. "But I'd bet my house you'll hear those words sooner or later. Just gotta be the right time." He chuckled softly. "And maybe a bit more romantic than at my parents' house."

My body was done, and my brain, too. I had no strength left. The last part of me told him, "I don't want to lose you."

"And that's about the kindest thing you could say." He rubbed my sides. "Now, we're both exhausted. I don't know what tomorrow's gonna bring, but I promise I'll be here when you wake up for it."

I yawned. I wonder if he knew how much power he had over me. Maybe he knew, and maybe that's how he was always able to make me feel better, no matter how dark things got. I smiled. "Thanks, App… uh…" I remembered the letter.

Another quick squeeze. "You promised to make it better, and you're not gonna do it by skirting around it."

I looked up at him again. "You're right. Thanks, Applebutt."

Chapter 25 - The Monster

* * * * *

Soarin' looks uncomfortable, and as fluffy as this cloud is, I am, too. My right foreleg has fallen asleep, and my face is beginning to radiate with sunburn. My back is sweating, and I regret wearing the long-sleeved shirt. Hopefully my mane is still up. No matter, though. There's a story to tell.

I stretch my neck. "Did it get better after that? The pet name?"

"Yeah." Soarin' stretches out his wings. "I ended up saying 'Applebutt Applebutt Applebutt' over and over again until it stopped being weird."

That's one way to do it, I suppose.

The pang in my leg is getting worse. It's shooting up into my chest and could interfere with my ability to remember details. I should be careful, especially without my notepad. "Sorry to interrupt, but would it be all right to move around for a while? I'm getting sore."

Soarin' rotates his shoulder. "Yeah, that's probably a good idea. The doc said something about blood flow at my last checkup."

We take it in turn to stand up and shake off the bits of cloud that cling to our bellies, and then we begin to amble around the park. It takes me a few steps to remember to slow my pace. The clouds are less crunchy than they were this morning. Do they lose their structural integrity in the sunlight? In any case, the air is clean as ever. I take a deep breath. "Did Cortland and Gala hear all the 'Applebutts'?"

"Ha! Nah, and even if they did, they didn't say anything."

* * * * *

Braeburn and I slept in pretty late. Braeburn groaned about it as we woke up with our morning cuddle. "Aw, I'll never hear the end of it. They're probably already thinkin' of ways to tease me."

"Weeeeeell, then there's no need to rush." I tackled him on the bed. He giggled underneath me, and we rolled around like a couple of roughhousing colts. I even got my mouth around his ear – the one without the stud, obviously – and he did this half-laugh, half-moan thing that sounded a little whiny. I macked on his ear a little harder, running my tongue along the inside.

His left hind leg kicked. "Ha-ha! Soarin', stop!"

"Nope!" I mumbled around the ear in my mouth. I started tickling him on top of everything else, and feeling his warm, sensitive body wiggle beneath me made me completely forget the previous night. His body was always great like that.

When we were both awake enough to realize we were dizzy from the headrush, Braeburn nuzzled up into my chest. "That's a fine good mornin'. You sleep well, Big Blue?"

"Yeah, I…" My smile faded as my eyes found Braeburn's nightstand. He'd locked the letter back inside, but I could still feel it there. It was like a punch to the chest, like a rush of cold air when you're expecting a warm thermal under your wings. It sucked the life out of me, and I started imagining Bronze on top of Braeburn, and Braeburn rubbing his face into Bronze instead of me. It felt cold.

Braeburn's words from the previous night rang in my head. 'He still loves him a little,' I thought. 'But how much is a little? Is it more than…' I realized how slack my body was getting. "Uh… yeah. Slept great."

I sank into Braeburn and held him close. He relaxed in my grip, but I couldn't fake my enthusiasm for long. I kept staring at the locked drawer.

Braeburn kissed my chest, which snapped me part of the way back to reality. He looked up at me with those big, beautiful eyes. "Ma and Pa'll be wonderin' what we're up to. Ready to go?"

"Sure," I replied lazily.

Braeburn cocked his head to the side. After a second, he added, "Uh, okay. Let's head down."

Braeburn led the way downstairs. As we rounded the corner to the kitchen, I was hit by the smells of oatmeal, fried hay, and cigar smoke. The room glowed in the morning light, which seemed to be fading just a bit as the clouds rolled in. I could feel it in my feathers – it was going to rain. Hard. For now, though, the room felt bright and warm.

Even with Cortland and Gala there, actually. They weren't as bright as the rest of the room, but they weren't as gloomy as I would have expected, either. Cortland sat at the table reading the paper and sipping from a mug while Gala finished dishing up breakfast. As we entered, they both turned their heads toward us, and after a beat, Cortland smiled, and then Gala, too.

I noticed they'd almost killed a pot of coffee between them. That must've helped.

Cortland lifted his mug to us. His voice was raspy, but relaxed. "Mornin', colts. Afraid y'all had gotten lost. Sleep alright?"

Braeburn rolled his eyes and sat down at the table. "Uh-huh! Hell– er, sorry, Ma. Heck of a lot better after I got everything off my chest. How 'bout you?"

Gala pulled some roasted pears out of the oven. "Well, to be honest, Braeby, we didn't sleep much. We had a lot on our minds." She sounded tired, too. "Plus, you had me wondering all morning what you were doing up there. Hope the sheets aren't too stained. Hm-hm!"

Braeburn shot me a flat 'told you so' look, but I was more weirded out that Gala was joking about Brae and me screwing in her house. Braeburn told me later that it was the country – ponies are more open about things like sex. "We tell it like it is," he said, but when I mentioned that that didn't seem to apply to their feelings, he didn't have an answer.

Gala still made me blush a little. Dad and I had never talked about sex too much. When I was little, he'd given me the story of the birds and the bees, and when I told him I didn't get it, he told me the story of the penises and the vaginas. And, yeah, the butts.

C'mon, it's not that weird. Mom's brother was gay, and I wanted to know.

When I was older, around the time I was in the Academy, he was more concerned with me staying safe and not getting anypony pregnant. We didn't talk much about relationships or what to look for in a significant other. I think he was nervous, and he probably felt guilty, like he wasn't in a position to tell me how to find a healthy relationship. Even at that age, I understood the subtext. He just wanted me to be happy, he said, and I believe him. I think he still does.

…

Gala set an empty pan in the sink. "Might be nodding off during bridge tonight, but that's just how it goes, I suppose."

Braeburn's head bowed just slightly. "Yeah, I'm sorry for–"

Cortland cut in and pointed to Braeburn with his cigar, the end glowing red. "Don't you go apologizin', Braeburn. We needed to hear it." He paused and cleared his throat. "And, uh, you don't ever gotta worry about botherin' us. We'll listen whenever you got somethin' to say."

I smiled. Cortland was fidgeting a little and stumbling over his words, but he was trying his best, and Braeburn was drinking in all the earnest warmth his dad gave off. The back-and-forth didn't last long – stallions, right? – but I think both of them were breathing a little easier by the end of the conversation.

All three, actually. Maybe Gala was just tired, or maybe whatever they'd talked about had gotten through to her, but she didn't seem so hostile. Maybe I'd just forgiven her for being a mom. I dunno. Point is, we had a good breakfast. I don't remember much of it, which I guess means that it felt normal.

We cleaned up, and I helped Gala with the dishes. We talked about the Wonderbolts' schedule and when I'd be in town again, and it seemed to align with their anniversary late in the fall. When Gala wasn't looking, I gave Cortland a sly wink.

Cortland smiled, then asked us, "Know where you're headin'?"

Setting a dish back into the worn-looking cabinets, I said, "Meh. Cloudsdale eventually. We might stop somewhere else if we wanna see the sights." I thought about Sunburst and Cobalt Breeze. "Maybe Fillydelphia?"

Gala's eyes widened. "Cloudsdale?" She blinked a few times. "Why would you go there?"

I looked over at Braeburn, who said, "Well… uh…" He fidgeted. "W-we don't know yet. Things have been so crazy, and, uh… heh-heh." He was playing with the towel in his hooves.

'You should stay with me,' I thought. I realized that the idea wasn't so crazy. "Braeburn can stay with me. It'd be great!"

"A-at least until the heat dies down."

Cortland raised an eyebrow. "Not much for farmin' up there, from what I hear. Any thoughts 'bout how you'd earn your keep?"

"Uh…" Braeburn scanned my face. "It…" He looked back to his parents. "It wouldn't need to be long-term." He glanced back to me. "But, uh… Well, we don't know yet. There's still a lot we need to figure out."

I chewed on my cheek a little, and my stomach sank. I wanted Braeburn to be excited – we could live together, and he wouldn't have to worry about a thing. Not Bronze, not the media, nothing. 'He'd be safe.' I think I understood on some level – not deep enough, of course – how much he cared about Appleloosa and how important his home was to him, but every time I thought about it, I remembered how Bronze had promised to wait there for him and how it would make Braeburn's life miserable. I promised myself I wouldn't let that happen.

Cortland asked, "Thought this through, though, Brae? Can't very well walk on clouds, and I don't want it raining Apples anytime soon."

I jumped in with, "It's totally safe. Don't worry. They've got shoes and enchantments and potions and whatever you need now."

Cortland mumbled, "Can't be cheap…"

Gala piped in, "But Braeby. I'm not trying to rain on your parade, and… and I know you're a grown stallion and that these choices are yours to make…" From her tone, I could tell that she was repeating something from their talk the previous night. "…but you've never been good at just sitting in one place with nothing to do. I just don't want you getting mopey or bored or anything."

"We'll figure it out," I said quickly.

Cortland said, "Well, wherever you go, might wanna stop by Ponyville and talk to your granny. Don't know how she's takin' the news, but I'm sure she's heard by now. Bet it'd mean a lot to her if you told her yourself."

"Of course!" Braeburn was leaning forward. "And I wanna see Big Mac and Applejack and Little Bloom, too!" He turned to me. "Oh! Uh… that all right, Soarin'?"

I nodded.

Gala was preheating the oven again. "Well, make sure Soarin's ready." She looked to me with a smile. "Cort's side can be a bit rough at times, especially for a… for somepony new." She grimaced at her husband. "Hearts of gold, though. Wouldn't trade them for a thing."

She didn't know how right she was, especially with Mac. Yeah, we were on good terms, I think, but I couldn't keep from shuddering when I remembered his hoof knocking my jaw shut and forcing me to look at him. Still, I had everything I needed. "I'll be fine." I put my hoof on Braeburn's. "You'll take care of me, right?"

Braeburn smiled and gave me a sly look. "No promises." When his parents weren't looking, though, he mouthed, "Always."

It had started raining pretty hard while we packed up our saddlebags. Cortland said something to Braeburn in private, and they went upstairs.

It didn't take me long to get my stuff together, and afterwards Gala pulled me aside to the living room. She set her shoulders and looked me in the eye, but there wasn't anything aggressive about her stance. She took a short breath. "You're going to take care of him, too, right?"

I did my best not to sound offended. "Sure. You don't need to worry, Gala. I won't let anything happen to him."

"He's really fallen for you, Soarin'." Her voice was soft but firm. "He cares, sometimes too much, I think, and he gets swept up so easily in work and… stallions and everything else." I appreciated that she at least tried to hide her discomfort. "And I worry that he'll get in over his head. It wouldn't be the first time. He just… He sees a nice, handsome pegasus, and, well…"

My eyes narrowed. "Gala, I'm not Bronze."

She looked me right in the eye. "Are you sure?"

Her stare set something off inside me. My chest felt tight, and my brain went nuts thinking of all the things I'd done wrong, all the times I'd yelled or embarrassed him. I told myself, though, that it was different. That I was different. 'I hope.'

After pausing for way too long, I nodded. "I'm sure."

"Good." And then, slowly, she leaned forward. I didn't realize what was happening until she wrapped a hoof around me. I tensed up, but it felt... nice. It didn't burn or sting or bring back any bad memories. It just felt nice. I hugged her back, and she said, barely above a whisper. "He's so precious, Soarin'. Please make him happy."

I whispered back. "I will."

We pulled away, and Braeburn and Cortland were staring at us. They both looked content, and Braeburn had these big, hopeful puppy-dog eyes. "We should hit the road."

I nodded. "Yeah."

Cortland cleared his throat. "Hope you don't mind, but we sent for the carriage this mornin'. It's waitin' outside."

Braeburn perked up. "Hold on a tick. It's been waitin' for us? Pa, that's expensive!"

"We want you two to be comfortable. 'Sides, should give you some privacy."

I smiled. "Thanks, Cortland."

We said our goodbyes – sweet Luna, earth ponies take forever to say goodbyes – and made our way outside. Sure enough, the carriage was right there waiting for us at the end of the walkway. This big, studly earth pony with a dark brown coat and black mane was hitched to the front under an awning. His hooves and legs were covered in mud, and he was standing with one leg crossed in front of the other and his head tilted back. His chest was massive, and he oozed confidence. I swear, he was hitting on us when he said, "Mornin'. Name's Broadside. You stallions ready for your ride?"

* * * * *

Soarin' cocks his head back and gives me a little smirk. "So, what do you go for?"

I raise an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

He shrugs. "You know, when you're checking somepony out. What do you like? What's hot?"

It's not unusual to be asked a question during the interview process. Doing so makes the interviewee feel more in control, especially when they're under distress. This doesn't feel like that, though. No, it feels comfortable, like there's no other motive behind it. Like with a friend.

I smile and ponder. "Well, it depends. For mares, nothing beats a soft, svelte unicorn. Not too dainty. She needs to know how to have a good time."

"Heh-heh. You got that right." A wide, stupid smile spreads across his face, and his eyes glaze over. "Especially when they know how to use that horn. Dude, remind me to tell you about this Minuette mare sometime. How about the stallions?"

I roll my tongue around my mouth. "Well, I like 'em big. The cab driver sounded pretty hot. Earth ponies are a hell of a time in bed." I cast a sideways glance at him. "Yeah. Earth ponies are definitely the best."

Soarin' raises an eyebrow. "Hey! What about pegasi?"

I stick out my lower lip and pretend to think. "Nah, the wings always get in the way."

"Well, not if you–"

"And they're too fast."

He sneers. "…dammit."

* * * * *

The rain was coming down in sheets, but we got our stuff into the carriage pretty quickly and without much trouble. Everything was a little wet, but nothing was damaged. Braeburn had picked up an extra saddlebag of stuff, what I thought was just stationary and clothes, and we set it all on the seat.

The inside of the carriage was pretty nice. It was lined with that deep crimson fabric that everypony associates with the rich life, and the curtains were heavy and dark enough to keep out the sunlight if there had been any. It wasn't drafty, and the padding only had a couple small holes in it. The cabin was big enough to seat four comfortably, even if they were chunky, and the seats were deep enough to lie down on. Pretty nice for being out in the sticks, even if it smelled like a train station at 2 AM: faint smells of a hundred ponies, but nothing too offensive.

Braeburn sat facing forward, and when I sat next to him, he said, "Aw, and here I figured I'd be able to catch a nap on the ride there."

I cuddled up and rubbed my face into his shoulder. "Nnnnope! I wanna be next to you." Luna, I sounded like a colt around him, didn't I?

He chuckled. "Heh heh. All right, you goof. But I'm kickin' that pretty ass of yours over to the next seat as soon as you fall asleep."

As we rolled away from the Apple house, we waved goodbye to Cortland and Gala. Even as they were getting soaked, they smiled. It seemed genuine, and that made me happy.

We pulled away, and I thought about what it would be like to celebrate the holidays with them. I pictured Braeburn and me back there for Hearth's Warming Eve, sitting around and chatting and getting tipsy on spiked eggnog. It felt warm. Warm and comfortable and happy. I'd spent the last few Hearth's Warmings getting hammered with the few other 'Bolts that didn't have families to go home to or whose families were just psychotic. It was always a good time, but I decided I wanted the nice version, not the puking-in-a-gutter version that I was used to.

And just like clockwork, I wondered if Bronze had spent any holidays with Braeburn's family. 'They didn't approve of Braeburn. But… Brae said they liked him, and he was comfortable enough to come over and drop off the letter, so…' And then I was thinking about the letter again, and that sinking feeling came back to my stomach, and I felt small. I wanted to talk to Braeburn about it, to tell him that it was really messing with me and that I needed to know again how much he cared about me, but I… I was afraid. Our talk the previous night hadn't gone well, and I was terrified that talking about it more would make Braeburn rethink everything, make him start wondering if maybe he'd had it better with Bronze. Smart? No, of course not, but that's the kind of thing that runs through your head when you've got something so important in your life. I told myself we'd talk it out eventually, before the carriage ride was over. 'I just… need time to figure out what I want to say.'

I cuddled up to Braeburn again and closed my eyes, listening to the loud pounding of the rain on the carriage roof. It rumbled like a steady, quiet drum. It felt right to be there with him, and it pushed Bronze a little further from my mind. I hoped Braeburn wouldn't notice how much I was fawning over him.

Braeburn noticed. "My, somepony's affectionate today. That's what I get for not takin' care of you last night, I suppose."

He was being sweet. I didn't know how to answer other than with a nuzzle under the chin. We stayed like that for a mile or two, just relaxing and keeping each other warm.

After a while, Braeburn shifted and said, "Heh heh. You know, I'm waitin' for you to ask if I've ever bucked in a carriage before." He stroked my mane. "Then I'll make some excuse about bein' too loud, and then you'll say that the rain is a lot louder than we'd ever be." He leaned down and kissed my forehead. "That about right?"

I looked up and smiled. He knew me so well. "Weeeeeell, we're almost out of lube, but if you really want me to go in dry, we–"

With a lurch, the carriage stopped suddenly, and Braeburn had to grab on to keep me from falling off the seat. I shook my head. "The buck was that?" I stuck my head out the window and shouted to the driver. "Dude! Little warning next time?"

Broadside peeked around the corner of the carriage with an awkward grimace on his face, and I could see the small, blue unicorn that was blocking his way. He was soaked, and his dark brown mane was covering most of his eyes. He was a small guy, and he shivered a little in the rain. He looked fairly young, too, a little younger than Braeburn or me. His luggage looked drenched, too.

I couldn't hear their hushed conversation over the rain, but eventually, the driver sighed and jerked his head back towards the carriage. I think I saw him mouth, "You gotta ask them."

The blue stallion perked up a little. He grabbed a heavy piece of luggage and struggled to carry it high enough to stay clean, but when he got back to the window of the carriage, it slipped out of his mouth and dropped into the mud.

"Oh, shoot!" he said in a small, exasperated voice. He brushed his mane out of his face and looked up at me. "Hello. I'm… I'm very sorry, but I'm running late, and I need to get to the train right away, and I didn't realize the carriage was reserved, so I had to run all the way here, and…"

'Ugh. We don't need this right now.' While he rambled on, I thought of all the ways he could get us noticed by the media, especially if he was meeting friends. 'It's not worth the risk.' I held up a hoof to stop him. "Sorry, buddy, but it's taken."

Don't look at me that way. We had someplace to be, and we didn't need any complications. Besides, I needed the time with Braeburn to talk about Bronze's letter. At least, that's what I told myself. 'We'll get to it eventually.'

He frowned up at me. "Please? I'm so sorry. I just need to get to the station as soon as possible!"

I rolled my eyes. "Look, dude. I already told you: it isn't happening."

But Braeburn was Braeburn. He poked his head out of the window next to me, right out into the rain, and bumped his flank into mine. "Oh, don't mind him. He didn't sleep well last night. Hop on in! There's plenty of room."

The stranger lit up. "R-really? You sure I won't be too much trouble."

Braeburn nodded. "Uh-huh! Just give yourself a good shake before you get in."

Our guest did as he was told, and Braeburn helped him hoist his luggage into the carriage. When we were settled in, Braeburn banged on the front to let the driver know he could go, and we were off.

The stranger grabbed a towel from his bag and dried off, and I fumed silently at him. 'The buck are we supposed to do now? There's no way he doesn't recognize us, and what if he tries to tag along at the train station? Salt Lick City's tough enough to navigate as it is.'

Braeburn was friendly, though. "Sorry you had to deal with the rain. Not many ponies take the carriage on a Sunday, but I suppose it happens. Hope we didn't inconvenience you too much."

He dried off his ear. "No, really, it's okay! I'm just grateful you're letting me come with you. I'll pay for the whole thing if you want."

Braeburn waved a hoof. "Naw, that wouldn't be fair. Besides, it's already covered. Our treat."

The stranger smiled. "Thank you, then. That's very generous."

"Our pleasure." Braeburn nodded at him. "Now, we haven't been properly introduced. You got a name, stranger?"

"Of course! My name's Tom. Tom Ink."

* * * * *

I skid to a stop, and my eyes open wide. "What?"

Soarin' drifts slowly away and drags his hooves down his face. "I know I know I KNOW!!!"

I blink a few times and try to restart my brain with a good shake. "And you threw him out immediately, right?"

"I was… distracted. I didn't realize who it was."

"Oh no…" A thought strikes me. Reflexively, I grab my saddlebag from my back and plop it onto the cloud with a puff. Rifling through a few papers inside – mostly reference materials for the interview – I find an early-summer copy of The National Equinerer and rip it out. I hold it right in front of my face and stare at the slightly blurry image of two ponies huddled behind Soarin's wing, framed by a scarlet red background that looks suspiciously like the interior of a carriage.

Stay calm. "This is the 'Trouble in Paradise' story, isn't it?"

"Ugh…" Soarin' sulks in midair. "Yeah, it is. Do you really need me to go over it?"

I sit down and stare at the headline again: Trouble in Paradise, by Tom Ink. Through gritted teeth, I say, "Tell me everything."

* * * * *

"Nice to meet you, Tom! I'm Braeburn!" Ugh. I don't know if it was the country hospitality or not wanting to be all pink again or if he just forgot, but our cover was immediately blown. Not that either of us knew, of course. Yeah, I was a little ticked he wasn't being more careful, but while Tom and Braeburn went off with these stupidly long introductions, my mind wandered.

The conversation from the previous night kept playing over and over in my head. I know Braeburn said it would be okay, but it's not that simple. I'd read how sure Bronze was that Braeburn would come back to him, how much he believed that I was just Braeburn's fling, and I couldn't stop picturing that same scene, over and over and over again: the three of us in Appleloosa, and Braeburn throws himself at Bronze. Over and over and over.

"C'mon, now, don't be a stranger."

"Huh?" I looked back at Tom. "Oh. Yeah. Fine. I'm Soarin'."

Tom bowed politely. "Very nice to… Hey!" Tom sat up and flicked a hoof at me. To his credit, he had the dirty liar thing down. "Soarin' Windsong? Like, captain of the Wonderbolts Soarin' Windsong?" He looked me up and down with way too much interest. "Wow, it is you! Wow! Holy… Wow, thanks for letting me bum a ride. This is awesome! Oh! I promise I won't be too annoying. Let me know if I'm too annoying."

I narrowed my gaze.

He pretended not to notice. "I gotta ask, though: what are you doing way out here? The Wonderbolts aren't performing anywhere nearby, at least from what I've heard."

I cocked an eyebrow. "Seriously?" I asked flatly.

Tom shrunk back a little. "Oh, uh… sorry. Is there something I should know about?"

I ground my teeth. Even if he'd really been ignorant, just thinking about having to explain everything again was ticking me off. I snorted. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Oh, so… not a fun vacation then, I guess?"

Before I could yell at him, Braeburn cut in. "We've been travelin' a bunch lately, and life's been a little hectic. Plus, like I said, we haven't slept much. Sorry if we're a little short."

"It's fine, it's fine." He waved a hoof, and I was naïve enough to think he just couldn't take a hint. "I travel with my family a bunch, too."

Family.

Those freaking parasites always know how to phrase things just right, how to be just annoying enough to get you to volunteer information to shut them up. They buzz around you, needling you a little bit at a time until you snap, all without you suspecting a thing.

And he got me. I rolled my eyes, thinking he was a complete dope. I didn't know if I was annoyed or angry or relieved or anxious or what, but whatever it was, I was exhausted, and my emotions were a freaking mess.

When I looked at Braeburn, though, I started melting at the thought of calling him "family" one day, whatever that would mean. I focused on that, since he was the only thing in my life that made sense. My shoulders relaxed, and my guard was down. "Nah," I said with a sigh and a little smile. "He's my coltfriend."

Saying it out loud helped calm me down. 'Yeah, he's my coltfriend. He's not Bronze's or anypony else's. It's him and me against the world. Yeah.'

"Oh, s-sorry to presume." Fake stutter. Classic move to convince somepony you're star-struck. "I wouldn't have guessed, though. No offense, but you two don't seem like coltfriends."

Aaaaand that was the end of my little moment of serenity. I whipped towards him, and my wings flared out. "The fuck is that supposed to mean!?"

His eyes went wide. That part, I think, was real. "Nothing, just…"

"What!?"

"Geez, Soarin'!" Braeburn yelled. "He's a fan. Cut him some slack."

I forced my wings down and slumped. "Fine."

Braeburn looked back at Tom. "I'm really, really sorry. There's no excuse for this hostility."

"It's… It's okay. It's just that you guys seem tense, like there's something wrong." He was fishing. They teach us all about it at the Academy: the reporters will say something vague but barely specific enough to get you to fill in the blanks yourself, and if you're in an emotionally weak position, things just slip out. "Like there's something on your mind."

Braeburn looked back at me. "Uh, I don't think so. Soarin', is there something botherin' you?"

Me and my big, beautiful, stupid mouth. "Feh. No, not something. Somepony."

I swear to you, that leech started smiling. I just know it. "Somepony? Yeah, my coworkers can be pretty rough sometimes, too."

"Ugh, no!" I forced my voice back down. "No, it's not the Wonderbolts. Everything's fine…"

Screw me with a rusty spoon.

"…mostly."

Tom put on a very calm, understanding voice. "Oh… I'm sorry things aren't working out."

Braeburn shook his head. "It's okay, Tom. Things are just stressful right now."

"Yeah." His head hung low. "I think us fans like to imagine that everything is great behind the scenes and that you're all best friends all the time, like–."

…

Scratch that. Screw me a jagged soup ladle.

I scoffed.

Tom let his shoulders sink. "They're all pretty awful, aren't they?" He moped. "That'll show me to idolize them, I guess…"

See what he was doing? He was playing both sides of it: the knowing, savvy, casual fan that understands the business and tries to relate to you and the squealing fancolt that just got his dreams crushed. Plus, he'd overcorrected and painted the Wonderbolts in a really bad light, so of course I felt compelled to correct him.

I sighed. "No, most of them are fine. Fire Streak's great, and even if Spitfire's hard on everypony, she does a good job. It's just…"

…

You know what? Just screw me with every freaking piece of kitchenware you got. The rolling pin will make a great strap-on.

"I wish we wouldn't tear ourselves apart so much. I mean, yeah, I get it, competitive nature and everything. You need that killer ins– that competitive drive. But give 'em an opportunity, and any one of them would sell you out for two seconds in the spotlight. Sorry, Tom, but no, it's not all glamor and teamwork and friendship. The business gets nasty, and the ponies can be even nastier."

Braeburn put a hoof on my shoulder. "It'll be all right, Soarin'. We'll get everything sorted out."

Tom's eyes went wide. I thought he was just surprised, but no. He was counting his bits. "Get what sorted out?"

I griped, "I don't want to talk about it."

"Well… th-then you don't have to, but I hope everything's okay." He knew when not to push, and it's a lot easier to keep somepony off their game if you rapidly change subjects. "But you said that the Wonderbolts weren't the big problem. And if that's not the pony that's… It's not an ex giving you trouble, is it?"

Braeburn took his hoof back. I glanced over his way, and he was sitting up a little straighter. When I slumped and scooted away, he whined. His lips parted, and the sides of his eyes drooped as it dawned on him. With a quiet voice, he asked, "Is… is that what's got you all bent outta shape, Soarin'?"

I mumbled, "It's fine." I didn't want to talk anymore. It was always words. Words make things worse and put ideas in your head and make you feel insecure. Words can poison you and ruin your life. I didn't want more words. "It's fine."

"Soarin', I don't want somethin' in the air between us. That sort of thing only breeds resentment."

I'd had it, but for Braeburn's sake and because a fan was watching, I kept it under control. Sort of. "Okay. Yeah. Fine, it's bothering the fuck out of me, okay? We'll talk about it later."

"I…" Braeburn slumped and looked at the floor. "I was just bein' honest, Big Blue. You deserve to know." He gulped. "I-I shouldn't have said anything."

My back straightened and I turned to him. 'Dammit! No, that's just going to keep him from talking again, and right after he opened up to his parents. Dammit. I'm such a dumbass.' I scooted closer to him and wrapped a wing around us for some privacy. We stayed there for a moment, and I didn't hear Tom rustling around in his bag.

We both took a deep breath, and even though the fire still burned in my chest, I just wanted it to be done. 'The letter can wait.' I was sick of it. "I'm sorry. I want to talk about stuff. Let's just wait until we're alone, okay?"

*Click*

"Okay." He looked up into my eyes. "Promise?"

"Promise." I let my wings down and saw Tom quickly stuff his towel back into his bag.

With wide eyes, he jerked his head to face us. He grimaced and waved a hoof. "Don't mind me. If you need to talk about something, I can just sit here and read the paper again or something."

There was a long pause, and Braeburn tensed up just a little.

I didn't notice. I said, "Nah, it's okay. We'll deal with it on the train."

"Oh, yeah! I didn't even ask. Where you heading?"

I didn't want to be specific, but Braeburn had told me to be nice, so I planned to mumble something about going east. "Out to–"

"Back to Las Pegasus!" Braeburn jumped in. "We're gonna lie low for a bit until the heat dies down. Figure they won't suspect us there twice. How about you?"

Tom paused for just moment. "Actually, I'm heading that way, too! Don't know why you need to keep out of sight, but as long as it's not drugs… It's not drugs, is it? Ha!"

"What? No!" Braeburn was on edge. I could hear it.

"Well, if you're trying to stay out of sight, I could get your ticket for you."

Of course he could. And of course there wouldn't be much room left, so of course he would get us a cabin together, all three of us. And of course the questions would continue.

I was going to tell him no, but Braeburn said, "Maybe." He kept interrupting me, steering the conversation. "I'd need a pillow, though." He turned to me, and his voice suddenly had a lot of weird emphasis. "You got a throw pillow on you, Soarin'? I think we might need it."

He'd figured it out. Braeburn had realized that Tom was with the media, and he was trying to let me know without tipping his cards. Throw pillow, like the pillow I'd thrown at the reporter outside our window in Appleloosa. Pretty clever of him, right? It was the perfect signal.

I blinked. "Uh, no? Why would I?"

Braeburn slapped a hoof to his face and sighed. "'Cuz now I have a headache."

Tom piped up. "Well, you can probably get some sleep on the train. It's a nice, long ride." He smiled.

Braeburn set his hoof down and narrowed his eyes at Tom. His voice got low and snippy. "Oh, go to hell, you fuckin' sumabitch."

I reeled back and shook my head rapidly. "Dude! What?"

Tom threw his hooves up in the air. "Hey, that's uncalled fo–"

Braeburn lowered his head and snorted. "No, what' uncalled for is lyin' yer' ass off in fronna two kind-hearted stallions tryin' to get on with their lives!" His country accent was stronger all of a sudden.

My eyes shot back and forth between them. "Braeburn, what that fu–"

"The Las Pegasus train don't leave 'til tonight, so he's got no need to hurry out into the rain, and for somepony that reads the paper multiple times, he's mighty misinformed about you and me, ain't he!"

"Wait…" It started to dawn on me. "Fuck." I slowly turned my head to see a smirking Tom. "Fuck!"

Tom shrugged and calmly fastened his luggage closed. "Well, I have what I need, so I'll just be heading out now."

I saw red. My wings flared out, and my hackles raised. My pulse picked up, from normal to five-mile sprint in no time flat. I could hear my heartbeat inside my skull. My skin itched. My muscles tensed. I forgot about everything else in the world.

Tom was annoyingly relaxed, and that was the last straw. "Thank you for the exclusive interv–"

I pounced. "I'M GONNA BEAT YOUR FUCKING FACE IN!!!"

Tom's smile disappeared, and he jumped back up on the seat. He stammered, "Th-there'll be assault charges!"

I didn't stop. My hooves wrapped around his scrawny little neck, and he gasped for breath as he struggled against me. He kicked me in the stomach, just short of my groin, and I couldn't breathe, but I didn't care. I wrapped a hindleg around him, and we tumbled into the small space between the two benches on the floor of the carriage.

My blood raged through my veins. I wanted him to bleed. I wanted him to suffer. I wanted to bash his head against the floor of the carriage and hear him scream and make him taste his own blood. I raised a hoof above his face to break his fucking nose. My muscles tensed to bring my hoof down on him, and…

"Soarin', stop!!"

My blood turned to ice. I looked to my left, chest heaving, to see Braeburn staring at me and shaking, tears in his eyes and taking quick, uneven breaths.

My raised foreleg when slack.

Tom sputtered, "Y-you really want more attention right now? Can't avoid the media if you're in a jail cell, can you?"

I could barely hear him. All my attention was on Braeburn: his down-turned ears and wide eyes, his gaping mouth, the way he kept leaning back, the way he kept his eyes trained on me, how he was careful to breathe quietly, how his legs shook, and worst of all, how he flinched every time I moved.

My body was numb. Automatically, mechanically, slowly so as to scare him as little as possible, I got up off of Tom. Braeburn and I never broke eye contact, and I set myself softly on the seat opposite him.

I hadn't even noticed the carriage had stopped. The door flew open, and the Broadside stuck his head in. "What the hell's going on back here!?"

I'd never seen Braeburn so scared. He didn't even blink at me, and his eyes… I kept searching them for that warmth, that life that was supposed to be there, but all I found was fear.

Tom crawled out of the carriage like the worm he is. "I'm going."

Broadside stepped out of the way, and Tom slinked off. Broadside looked back to us and said, "What happened? Are you all right?"

My words seemed cold and lifeless. "Drive."

"No. I need to make sure you're both–"

"Just… drive."

He paused for a few seconds, then quietly shut the door. A few moments later, I could hear him hitch himself back up to the car, and we started moving again. The rain had gotten lighter, and the squeak of the wheels was low and dull.

But it was quiet.

"Braeburn, I'm so, so sorry." I reached out a hoof, and Braeburn flinched, and my heart broke in half. Tears welled up in my eyes.

"It's fine," he said, not taking his eyes off me. His breathing went back to almost normal. "It's fine."

It wasn't.

We didn't speak for the rest of the carriage ride, and the whole time, all I could think was, 'No, Gala. I'm not sure.'

* * * * *

Soarin's eyes look heavy. He's landed and is walking slowly next to me. He hangs his head. "You, uh…" He clears his throat. "You get why I don't like the media now, right?"

My voice is caught in my throat, and for the first time, I'm not sure I want to hear the rest of the story. "I… I do."

We walk in silence for several minutes.

Keep him talking, Syn. He needs this. "At the very least, the Equinerer didn't print anything about the fight." Fight is probably too generous. "And it sounds like most of the details about your relationship were made up. He wasn't able to find Bronze's name, at least, and your comments on the Wonderbolts were buried on the second page." I look over to him. I'm not helping. "Sorry, it's–"

"I know you were a reporter."

…

Shit.

"I had my agent check you out. You used to work for the Pony Tribune."

Soarin' looks right at me. Does he have more to say? It looks like he's waiting. "Yes. I worked with Tom for a short while a few years ago. He's… very good at what he does."

Soarin's look could kill a minotaur, and his words drip with oily, black hatred. "How did you live with yourself?"

I look up the road. "I… couldn't, so I left. Your agent must have figured that out, too, right?"

Soarin' stops walking and sits down on the cloud, his expression suddenly blank and difficult to read. Or maybe I'm panicking and not picking up on the details.

I babble on. "I had wanted to make a positive impact, to help ponies uncover the truth. Hell, I still do."

He scowls. "And what, that means manipulating them? Getting them to spill everything until you wring out every detail and there's nothing left?"

I sigh. "I'm not proud of it."

"But you've done it to me today, haven't you?"

My body feels heavy, like I've got a cart strapped to my back. There's an answer he wants, and it's the truth, anyway. No use hiding it, I suppose. "Yes. I have."

Soarin' snorts. "I know."

I sit next to him.

The sun still feels warm on my mane, and the breeze weaves its way through my legs. Words are escaping me, and everything I manage to come up with seems like a defense of an utterly despicable craft. Up until today, I thought you had to be in the industry to see the worst of it. I was wrong, it seems.

But if he's seen how bad it gets, then… "Soarin', if you knew who I was and what I was doing, then why'd you let me interview you?"

There's a long pause, and the wind carries the sound of a group of foals playing on the opposite end of the park.

He stands and lazily flaps his wings to get himself aloft, staring again down the road. "We got to the train station that afternoon. It was–"

"Whoa, now." I catch up to him. "Soarin', that's an important question. You've been a complete recluse for months, and you've refused every other offer for an interview. What changed?"

His voice is gruff, and he quickly answers, "There are a lot of reasons."

"That's pretty vague." I could manipulate him. I could force an answer out of him. It wouldn't be hard, but dammit, I want to be able to sleep tonight. "And… I hope you can tell me at some point."

He sighs. "I hope so, too."

* * * * *

We got to the train station that afternoon. It was pretty busy for a Sunday, so we were able to get our tickets pretty anonymously. Just barely, though. We still hadn't said anything to each other, and if Braeburn was anything like me, it was taking everything he had not to break down in the middle of the station.

Tom didn't follow us. There was a sleeper car, and the train went all the way to Ponyville, so we had plenty of time to ourselves.

The sleeper car had room for four, but it was tight. Braeburn and I each crawled into separate beds and faced away from each other, and as soon as the door shut, everything flooded out. Braeburn was sobbing, and I was sobbing, and the distance between us felt like an ocean.

I felt like I'd lost him, like I'd scared him away and hurt him and shattered him completely. The tiny bed felt huge and empty, and every time he'd take a breath, I wished that he would just yell at me. I wanted him to curse at me and scream and throw a fit, just so he could feel something besides sadness. Just so I could feel like we could move on.

I couldn't take the quiet. I rolled over, and Braeburn had turned to look at me, too. His mane was frazzled, and his jaw hung slack, and his eyes were dull, not like they were supposed to be. It felt wrong.

I swallowed some snot. "Braeburn, I don't wanna be apart."

Without hesitation, Braeburn launched across the car at me and grappled me in a big hug. He mumbled into my chest, "I don't wanna either."

He squeezed tightly, so tightly that it hurt, but I wanted it to. It burned, and it stung, and it brought back that image of him in the carriage, terrified of me. It didn't feel nice.

I was still crying, and my voice came out barely above a whisper. "Why? I don't deserve you."

"Stop that. Just… stop that." He swallowed and kept mashing his face into me. "It's because you're good, Soarin'. You're a good stallion."

"No, I'm not. You're the good one, Brae." He was. I felt completely worthless next to him. "You're kind, and you're brave, and you're smart."

"You're the brave one, Soarin'. You keep me safe. You hold me, and when we're together, I feel like everything's right. And I'm sorry about what I said about Bronze. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

My chest heaved, and I thought I would turn to stone. He's seen what a monster I'd turned into, but he was the one apologizing. Just for telling me the truth.

Braeburn wrapped his hind legs around me. "I-I'd take it back if I could. Hell, I'd erase him if I could, but I can't. And I don't want to throw all this away, and I'm sorry I made you mad. I don't care about that reporter, Soarin'. I care about you, and I don't want you to go to jail. I'm sorry. Please don't go to jail. I don't know what I'd do. I want you to be happy, and I don't want to make you sad. I'm just an idiot. I'm sorry, Soarin'. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Hot tears ran down my face and my neck as I stroked him. "You're perfect, Braeburn. You're responsible, and you make me feel good. You make me feel happy. I keep screwing up, and you deserve somepony who won't, and I keep making everything worse, and I'm sorry." I squeezed him back. "I'm sorry I'm so fucked up. I am just so, so fucked up."

He nuzzled me. "We're both fucked up, Soarin'."

Our hug still felt wrong. For the first time, it felt like we weren't trying to share something special. We were clinging. I didn't want it to feel that way, but I couldn't let go, either. My tongue felt stuck inside my mouth as I tried to come up with something.

I gulped. "I want… I want to say something that will make it all better, Applebutt."

"Just shut up, Big Blue." He shuddered and sobbed into my chest. "Just shut up and hold me."

Chapter 26 - Signs

We might as well have not talked for the rest of the afternoon. We stayed huddled together, clinging to each other in that tiny train cabin, and what little we said was pretty basic.

"Hungry?"

"No."

…and that would be it. Time passed agonizingly slowly, and it got too hot to stay together like that. Braeburn got up, opened a window, and sat down on the other bed, rubbing his eyes while a warm breeze lethargically circulated around the cabin, hardly keeping us cool.

It's not like the breeze had anywhere else to go. The sleeper cabin was only big enough for four small ponies, and it wasn't very wide. The stained, blue seats were something synthetic, and they stuck to our bodies, making us sweat. The paint was peeling from the walls. The place stank like cigarette smoke. The train didn't provide pillows, so we made some from our clothing. It was stuffy, it was hot, and it wasn't doing anything to lift our spirits.

After way too long, I sat up, crouching to keep from hitting my head on the low bunk bed above me. "You… don't need to worry, Applebutt. Tom didn't get much, and nopony believes those–"

"Please stop," he said flatly. "Just… stop it." He took his hat off and slid it under the bed, where he'd stored his other things.

My shoulders sank. "Braeburn, I said I'm sorry." It didn't feel like enough. It felt empty, like I was just saying something to make myself feel better, and really, I was. "I won't snap like that again. Really. I promise."

Braeburn sat up a little. He shook his head. "S-Soarin', there's a lot to think about right now. And I…" He turned away. "Just… give me some time, okay?"

I shrunk. He was doing it again. "Please don't shut me out, Applebutt. I'm sorry."

He started blinking rapidly again, and his chest began to heave as he took quick, shallow breaths.

I lifted a hoof and reached out to touch him. "Braeburn, I–"

Braeburn pushed my hoof away. "I want to get to Ponyville." It was stern all of a sudden, and he looked me in the eye and swallowed hard. "I just need to get to Ponyville. Give me until then. Please?"

I paused. It took me a moment to put my hoof back down, and when I did, it felt hollow somehow. "…Okay."

That was the only conversation we had. Besides ordering something from the dinner cart (which filled the room with an awful, stale smell), I didn't hear his voice until after the sun had set. He settled into the opposite bed, weary-eyed and lethargic from the heavy meal.

The space between us was tangible and thick. I opened a wing and pleaded, "Can we sleep together, at least?"

Braeburn's eyes sagged, and he stared for a long moment without moving, like his brain was completely burned out. Without a word, he lazily hobbled over and settled in to be the little spoon, and we slept together in that tiny bed for a few hours. Actually, "slept" is probably too generous. Every little bump would knock us together and push Brae off the bed a little further, until, in the middle of the night, he rolled off the bed with a groan. "Dammit," he grumbled. He collapsed onto the bed opposite me and shut his eyes.

I shut mine, too, but it didn't do much good. Whenever I would start drifting off, I'd open my eyes again and see Braeburn across from me, fidgeting. Even in the dim moonlight, I could see that his eyes were twitching, like he was having a bad dream. I wanted to comfort him, so I whispered, "Brae, I…"

I didn't get any further than that. Everything inside me felt so tangled up. I wanted to tell him that it would be okay and that we'd get through everything together, but my body felt paralyzed. I was worried that, if I talked, I'd just fuck something up and push him even further away, and all I could say was, "Please don't leave me, Brae."

At some point, I managed to fall asleep, barely. I don't think my dreams were very pleasant, but I don't remember anything from that night. The first sliver of sunlight hit me right in the eyes, and my head felt like somepony had taken an ax to it. The bed creaked under me when I tried to scoot away from the light, and that woke up Braeburn, too.

He rolled up onto his side, then rubbed his eyes and wiped some sweat from his forehead. His fur was matted. He'd been sweating all night, and the cabin smelled like both of us, which was nice, at least. He wasn't enjoying it, though. Instead, he looked like he would fall over. He grumbled something, but I didn't catch it, so he cleared his throat and said, "Mornin'."

I sat up slowly – I was super dizzy – and stretched my wings out as much as I could, which wasn't far. "Hey."

He rubbed his eyes again and squinted at me. "Geez, Soarin'. Looks like you had a rough night. The hell happened?"

I cracked my neck. "What do you mean?"

"Your forehead." He nodded his head at something on my face. "You need some ice for that?"

I crossed my eyes upwards, but I couldn't see anything. With a tender hoof, I reached up, but since I was still barely awake, it took me a few tries to find the bruise. I put… I p-put pressure on it…

…

Look, I didn't remember anything, okay!? I don't know how it got there! It was an accident! How was I supposed to even deal with it when I couldn't remember what had happened? Those trains are a fucking hazard, you know what I mean? Don't blow your money on 'em unless you're really getting a good one. Do some research. I mean, I don't wanna sound like a spoiled celebrity or anything, but it was pretty much the worst train I'd ever been on.

* * * * *

Instinctively, I back off half a pace. Why's he talking so fast? And with such a harsh tone?

My skin prickles, and my brain buzzes. He sounds angry, and now he's rambling about trains. Why would it be such a big deal to…

…

No, that… but…

…

Oh dear.

Be delicate, Syn. Be very, very delicate. "Soarin'? Are you…" Gentle. "Sorry, but earlier you mentioned that you were having trouble re–"

"Please don't say it." Soarin's lip is quivering just slightly, and he's refusing to look at me. "I…"

* * * * *

"I'll be fine."

Braeburn sat up all the way and looked out the window. "Okay." He hadn't doted on me or asked me again or anything.

It felt wrong, and it bored into me, itching like grass was growing under my fur. I had to distract myself with something. "You want any coffee?"

Without looking at me, he snapped, "I want us to get our shit together so we don't have to run all the time."

"Applebutt, I'm sorry. Again."

"I know." Braeburn frowned and let out a long breath. "The road must be wearin' on us, Big Blue. Haven't been away from home this long in a long time." He let his forehead press against the glass. "I wanna talk to Big Mac. He'll know what to do."

My tail flicked involuntarily. "W-why not talk to me? I'm here right now."

He put a hoof on the glass, and he spoke softly. "Because I miss him, Soarin'. Mac's always known what to do, what's important. He's always got some kind of wisdom, and I…" He took a shuddering breath, like he was right on the verge of tears. "I think I need it now more than ever."

My head sunk, and I weakly asked, "Why? I'm… I'm going to take care of you."

Braeburn looked down at the floor, his shoulders sagging. He was breathing heavily again. "I…" He closed his eyes and sucked in his lower lip. I knew that look – it was the one you get when something wants to come out, tries to force its way out of your mouth, and it's taking all your willpower to hold it in. It's the look that means there's bad news, but you can't bring yourself to say it. "I just wanna talk to Mac." With a heavy breath, he walked to the door, mumbled, "Restroom," and snuck out.

I flopped onto the bed on my right side, and my left ear flicked. It felt heavier, and I grunted a little when I realized why that was. I lifted a hoof and hesitated. I said, "Eh, screw it," and reached up to take the stud out of my ear.

But I couldn't. I got one hoof on the backing, and one on the gemstone. I told myself I was just taking it off for a little, that I would kiss it and hold it and treat it like the precious thing that it was, and that it was okay to let it be separate from me, but I couldn't. I just… physically couldn't. Even if I hadn't said it out loud, I'd promised Braeburn I'd keep my stud in for as long as he had to. I wasn't going to break that promise.

Braeburn came back after a long time and softly shut the door behind him. He blew some air out of his lips, and I smelled a faint hint of whiskey. "Ok. So." His voice was direct and precise. He was trying to cover up the fog on his mind. "The train always slows down long before Ponyville, and it's usually delayed, what with it bein' a hub and all."

Since I didn't have the energy to talk about anything else, what could I do but play along? "So… we ditch before it hits the station?"

"Uh-huh. Sweet Apple Acres is on the west side, anyway, so it'll be closer. Besides, just our luck, Pinkie Pie'd throw a big welcome party outta nowhere and blow our cover."

I raised an eyebrow. "Pinkie? Is she that pink earth pony who's always singing and throwing confetti everywhere?"

Braeburn perked up a bit. "Yeah. You know her?"

I shrugged. "Kinda. She's friends with a pony in the reserves that I keep bumping into. Name's Rainbow Dash. I think they're all Princess Twilight's friends."

Braeburn was looking at me, not quite smiling, but not as drained, either.

"What?"

"Small world, I guess. You remember the other earth pony? Applejack?"

It took me a while, but it came back. "I think so. Orange pony? Sells pies at the Grand Galloping Gala?"

"Heh. Eeyup." As frivolous and quick as it was, I liked seeing that smile. "That's my cousin, Big Mac's little sister. You'll be meetin' her today." Some of the color drained from his face, and his expression fell. "You'll, uh… You'll be meetin' all of 'em." He crossed the cabin and looked out the window again, craning his neck to look for the station.

I had to be there for him. I stepped up next to him and pulled him closer with a wing. "It'll be okay, Applebutt. I mean, they probably already suspected." It hurt to say it, but I added, "And… Big Mac will be there, too."

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right." His head tilted, like he was going to rest on my shoulder, but he stopped at the last second, leaving me feeling cold and even more distant. "If we wanna get some coffee, we'd best do it quickly."

We grabbed our stuff and made our way back to the dining car. I checked to see if Smileshine was behind the bar, but it wasn't him. Guess the world isn't that small. A fan spotted me, though, but she was still pretty groggy, too, and she looked a little hungover. I gave her the last of my headshots – a little wrinkled, but still good – and put a hoof to my lips. She gave me an understanding wink and let us pass, whispering, "I won't tell."

A few minutes later, we stood at the outside of the caboose. When the train slowed down, I made a few fly-bys to drop our stuff off along the tracks, then prepared to catch Braeburn. I clenched my teeth while he got ready, but he jumped off with no problem. We picked up our things and walked.

There wasn't a road to follow, but Braeburn looked like he knew where he was going, and the terrain was pretty flat. There were plenty of trees, too, so we weren't afraid of getting spotted. The sky still looked like it was on fire from the sunrise, and the morning dew clung to our hooves and sank into our fur. A few birds chirped, and everything smelled like grass, just like I remembered it.

See, Ponyville wasn't all that foreign to me. I'd been there a few times for random stuff, and it's not really big enough to get lost in. Still, it was good to have somepony there that could guide me around the outskirts. I was glad he'd found the shortest route, too, because even though we only had a few saddlebags each, they weighed down heavily on us. Just walking was a chore, and every soft patch of grass along the side of the road looked like a great place for a nap.

I started to ask something like, "When we–"

BOOM!!!

"–SHIT!!!" We ducked down and kissed the dirt, and I threw a wing around Braeburn. We shivered next to each other, stifling coughs from the dirt.

BOOM! Crackle crackle crackle…

After a few seconds, we peeked out and saw a massive fireworks display over the town as some super obnoxious polka music blasted our way.

Braeburn looked over at me. "Told ya'."

That got us to smile for a second, at least. We stood up, brushed ourselves off, and kept walking along a road on the outside of town.

We eventually turned down a small road at the edge of a tree line, and before I knew it, we were wandering through an orchard. A few of the apple trees were still blooming, but our hooves trampled some of the slightly brown petals that littered the path. The road was narrow, and the branches bore down on me. I wanted to stretch out and fly, but that would have put more space between us, which I wasn't willing to do.

It was all the worse because we weren't saying anything, but we were both so tired that we barely noticed time passing. At least, Braeburn didn't. I eventually complained, "Ugh! Are we almost there?"

"Aw, deal with it, ya' big foal," he groaned.

I recoiled a little. "Geez. Sorry."

He squinted hard and shook his head. "Sorry, sorry. Short fuse today. I'm not really lookin' forward to goin' through that whole rigmarole again."

I softened up. "It's okay." His blue stud caught the sunlight. "Anything your coltfriend can do?"

Braeburn sighed. "You're sweet, but I…" He raised his head. "Uh, actually, maybe. Could you, uh… could you please fly up and see where Big Mac is?"

My chest burned a little.

He must have seen me make a face, and he pleaded, "Please, Big Blue? Mac's always been there for me, and he's always stood up for me, no matter who was givin' me trouble. He'll help us out, and I wanna make sure I see him first, before I gotta deal with the rest of the family."

I snorted. "Fine."

Braeburn sulked.

I sighed. "Sorry. I'll try to do better. Where's he gonna be?"

Braeburn thought for a moment, and the bags under his eyes seemed to deepen. "Hard to say. It's a lot of land, but I bet he won't be too hard to spot, unless he's still feedin' the chickens." Tired Rambling Braeburn was a lot more monotone than Classic Rambling Braeburn. "Nah, he woulda gotten up before sunrise to take care of all that. If he hadn't, they'd be cluckin' his ears off. Probably already out in the fields doin' work before it gets too hot. It's a bit early for the summer crops, so he'll probably be plowin' one of the fallow fields. You should look for him there."

I nodded. "Okay. What's a fallow?"

Braeburn stopped in his tracks, wide-eyed.

I stopped, too, and turned around toward him, raising an eyebrow. "Is it, like, corn?"

With a short, snorting laugh, he rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Soarin', ya'…" He grabbed me for a big hug and a nuzzle. He sighed and whispered into my ear, "Ya' beautiful idiot."

I didn't really get it, and I still don't know what a fallow is, but I really, really needed that hug, so I didn't mind.

I hugged him back, then dropped my bags and took off galloping. My muscles ached, but once the blood started flowing again, my body felt right. My wings flared out, and the rush of fresh air felt like home. A few hard flaps, and I was into the air, rising up into the sunny sky as the wind carried me higher. It was a warm morning, and my wings hadn't gotten to stretch in a long time, so I did a few little stunts first, just to shake the dust off.

After that, I flew in the direction Braeburn had pointed to, and it wasn't long before I was in farm country. He'd been right – it was easy to spot the big red splotch of a pony on the brown earth. He was plowing an empty field, not a fallow field, but he was hard at it, and he didn't notice me.

I turned back and flew down to Braeburn. When I told him I'd found Mac, he stood up straighter, his face lighting up.

Mine just darkened.

He barely let me put my bags back on before he took off running. I caught up and flew next to him. My chest was heavy, and I wanted to make sure, make absolutely sure he wouldn't rather talk to me instead. "Braeburn, are you really–"

We crested the hill by the empty field, and Braeburn shouted, "Cousin Mac!"

Big Mac stopped pulling the plow and looked up. He cocked his head to the side, but his posture shifted when he saw who we were. I can't really say Big Mac moved quickly – it was Big Mac – but he didn't hesitate to unhitch himself from the plow and stand there waiting.

I got there a few paces ahead of Braeburn, which gave me time to rotate my wings back. With a good hard flap, I canceled my forward momentum. I stuck a two-point landing and dropped to all four hooves, getting a good look at Big Mac.

He was sweaty but didn't look uncomfortable, and he wasn't paying attention to me. 'Figures.' He looked strong in the morning light, not tired at all, just a big, resilient stallion that could take on the world and protect the ponies he loved. His face was relaxed, and he radiated that same energy that should have made me feel like everything was going to be okay, but it only filled me with dread. Maybe I was just imagining it, but it seemed like he was standing between me and the sun, and I shivered as he cast a long shadow on me.

"Braeburn!" he shouted with an open foreleg and a smile on his face.

Braeburn threw himself into Mac, and…

He started crying. Immediately. Like, full-on floodgates: he was sobbing and shaking and moaning. He tried and failed to keep himself under control, and Mac had to help him stay standing. From the look on his face, Mac hadn't been expecting Braeburn's reaction, either, but he stood there solidly, holding Braeburn up without failing.

That scene cut right through me. Braeburn, my coltfriend, was so, so sad. Miserable. The world was treating him so poorly: just getting off a bad breakup, his whole life was in chaos, and Braeburn, my coltfriend, had kept me away. He'd stayed tight-lipped and held it all in, even when he'd really needed somepony to be there, but here he was, letting everything spill out to the wrong pony. My legs nearly buckled as I watched, and I kept thinking, 'That's supposed to be me.'

Braeburn tried to say something, but all I could hear was mumbling towards Big Mac.

I felt small all over again. I was back to being a colt, on the outside looking in. Nothing I did had mattered; not the escape, not Las Pegasus, nothing. When he was at his breaking point, Braeburn hadn't wanted to talk to me. No, when push came to shove, when he was feeling so down and so scared, I wasn't the one he turned to. He'd wanted Big Mac all along, and he had been willing to shut me completely out until he got to talk to the pony he really trusted.

I froze. I was a statue. That's all I was: just a set piece in his life, something pretty that he didn't really need. The hole in my chest came back, and all the little things coalesced into one thought: 'He's going to leave me.'

My jaw hung open, and my mouth was getting dry, and my eyes were getting wet, but I barely wanted to breathe. 'He's going to leave me.' I was going to cry. I was going to cry, and Braeburn wasn't even going to notice. 'It's my fault. It's always my fault. He's going to leave me, because I messed everything up.'

My face flushed. I felt embarrassed. I felt ashamed. I felt betrayed. I felt a whole storm of things, and none of them were good. I hadn't been enough for him, and I'd let my anger get the better of me in that carriage, and it had driven him away. I'd driven him away. I was convinced I'd made him want to leave me. He was miserable, and he broke his promise and hadn't told me.

I wanted to shout. Not just at him, but at everything, especially myself, but I didn't have anything left. As my vision blurred with tears, my voice welled up in my throat, but all that came out was a choked, "F… Fine."

It felt like I was just watching myself as I spread my wings. A few flaps. A few more. A few dozen before I knew it. The wind felt cold, but I let it take me. It was one of the roughest and fastest take-offs I'd ever had, without even trying. I was flying away without even realizing it.

I couldn't see. I couldn't hear. I barely felt anything. The smell of dirt filled my nostrils, kicked up from the take-off, and the horizon fell further and further below me. I wasn't folding my legs in like I was supposed to, and my mouth had gone dry from still being so slack, and I flew.

I flew and flew. I didn't keep track of where I went, but occasionally a cloud would brush against my face or a bird would dodge out of my way, and that was the only way I knew I was still in the air.

My heart rate picked up, and I slowly came back to reality. I felt the sun on my face and realized I was flying east. My tail lashed wildly behind me. I felt each muscle contraction of my wings: tight, then releasing in rapid succession. My hooves were numb.

The world burned back into my vision, and the more it came back, the more the pain in my heart took over. I tried to fight it. I tried to keep it down and swallow it whenever it jumped up into my throat. My jaw hurt from clenching so much. I wanted to stop.

But I kept going. I kept flying east, towards Cloudsdale. My flight path was wobbly, and my wings felt tense.

I was flying for almost an hour, my mind spinning and struggling to keep my consciousness out, but when my breath got heavy and turned to sobs, I had to stop. I landed on a small cloud, just a little bigger than a bed, and desperately gasped for breath. My lungs burned. Staying still let all the pain flood back into my body. I wanted it to. I wanted to hurt and to be scared and to realize how awful I was.

And I wanted it to stop. I wanted it to stop hurting and for everything to be okay.

I didn't know what I wanted.

The wind whistled through some trees in the forest below me, and all around me, the only thing I could see was empty, empty blue sky.

'I wrecked it. He's going to leave me.'

I took shallow breaths. I told myself I wouldn't lose it. I was going to be strong and get through it on my own, just like I had before Braeburn. 'Back before I ever met him. Back when I was all alone.'

I made the mistake of looking up, looking around for Fire Streak or Spitfire or Holli or anypony. My head jerked around, searching for literally anything, but nopony was there.

I was alone.

"Hu… huh…" My body trembled. "Aaaaaah!!!!" I screamed and collapsed into the cloud beneath me, and I cried. I cried my soul out into the cold cloud that couldn't hug back, that wasn't warm like the pony I loved. I cried and wailed and tried to bury my face in it just so I wouldn't have to hear the horrible noise of my own screaming.

But it didn't help. The guilt, the exhaustion, the fear… it all came crashing down on me at once. 'I yelled at him up at the farm. I led the media right to him. I dragged him along and made him miserable and embarrassed him and made him so, so scared.'

"Fuck… Fuck!" I bit into the cloud just to shut myself up, but I just sobbed louder as hot tears streamed down my face and onto the cloud.

Nopony was there to comfort me. I was alone.

I remembered that night with Sapphire Shores, flying around Manehattan and feeling the loneliness dig into me. This was so much worse. I felt like some unseen sadness had reached into my ribcage and wrenched it open, only to find that there was nothing left.

I cried more. I tried to stop so many times, to grow up and let it roll off my back, but I couldn't. I couldn't control myself, and that scared me even more, and I just cried and cried until there wasn't anything left.

A long, long time, later, I started to regain control of my breathing, just barely. I took deep, shuddering breaths, and let them out as slowly as I could, first to a count of three, then to four, then to five. It helped, and all I was left with was a cloud and the quiet.

My body went slack. I wanted to fall through the cloud and hit the ground and just die. 'He's the best thing in my life, and I wrecked everything.' Everything was heavy, and for a while, I couldn't move.

Minutes later, I managed to lift my head, just enough to rest my chin on the cloud. My eyes felt scratchy, and breathing took a lot of effort.

My wing felt cramped, but I couldn't stretch it. My hind leg was falling asleep, but I couldn't move it. I felt powerless in every sense of the word. 'Should I even go back? It wouldn't do any good. He's happier with his family than he'd ever be with me. I just screw things up.' I thought about the Wonderbolts and how I'd screwed that up, too.

I pulled myself over to the edge of the cloud and let my face hang off it. I stared down at the ground, the trees moving lazily across my vision. I wanted somepony to talk to. I needed somepony to talk to, and there was only one pony there to listen, and so, I sighed and reached out to the only pony that I felt like I had left.

"You there, Dad?"

He didn't answer. The cloud kept drifting through the sky, and I traced the way the wind blew in the grass below me.

"It's Stormcloud. I fucked up again." My ears went flat. "Sorry for swearing." I wanted a disapproving but understanding response, and I didn't get one, so I just kept going. "I screwed up. Really, really badly. I… don't know how much you've been paying attention, but I guess you probably have, since you don't have much else to do… No offense. It's just like, what do you do all the time when you're dead? Do you just… watch me all the time? Do you know when we're sleeping together? Or did you meet somepony else?" I raised an eyebrow. "Do ghosts date?" Then I slumped. "Or am I keeping you too distracted and screwing up your afterlife relationships, too?"

That didn't sit well, and I knew what he'd say. I dropped my voice and tried to sound like him. It wasn't really the same, but it was better than nothing. "You didn't screw up anything, Stormcloud. What happened with your mother and I wasn't your fault."

"Yeah, I know. You said that already." I sighed. "It just… seems like I can't hold it together, though, I guess. Like… why didn't you teach me about any of this stuff? It's messed up." My cheeks felt hot, and my voice gradually got louder. "I mean, it's not like I got much practice with this stuff, right? Just because you screwed up with Mom, now we have to go through all the same shit?"

My eyes burned again. "What the fuck, Dad?! Why couldn't we have just been normal and happy, huh?" My hackles raised, and shifted on the cloud. "And now what the fuck am I supposed to do? Braeburn's miserable, and he doesn't want to talk to me. He's the first pony I've ever fucking cared about, and I flipped out, and now he's going to leave me, just like every-fucking-pony else!!!"

Nopony answered.

I felt like an idiot, like a foal, screaming out his problems at the universe because he couldn't do anything about it.

My ears felt hot, the left one, especially. I flicked it, and the stud felt heavy in there. I sighed. "Sorry. I just… He can't leave me." I flopped back down onto the cloud and mumbled, "Everypony always leaves me."

Everything raced through my head again, from the loneliness to the anger to the fear of going back to the Wonderbolts and pretending everything in my life was fine, right up until I died. The breeze blew softly, carrying the earthy smells of the grasses far below me. The sunlight's warmth had worked deeply into my muscles, and slowly, my heart began to feel like nothing, which was a welcome comfort. It wasn't enough, though.

I knew what I wanted. I wanted Braeburn. I wanted to go back and see him smiling and waiting for me and telling me that everything was okay, that he wasn't mad. I wanted to fly back and be his daring stallion and be good enough for him. I wanted to make it right, but I just couldn't bring myself to move on my own.

I don't know what you believe. Maybe you believe in destiny or some divine force, or maybe you think the dead really do watch over us. Maybe you think it's all bullshit and that life is nothing but a bunch of random shit that happens to you before you die. And that's cool. I'm okay with that. I'd usually think that way, too, that terrible things happen every day to us, and we can't do anything about them. It doesn't make sense to wait around for signs from above or some ancient dead guy to solve your problems for you. You need to take care of yourself, and most of the things that we think are blessings are just random coincidences. You can't rely on the universe being kind to you, and I still believe that to this day.

But that didn't change the fact that the wind was blowing me back west.

The realization dawned on me slowly, and just as slowly, a smile spread across my face. The emptiness filled just a little, and I caught myself whispering, "Thanks, Dad."

With a shudder, I lurched onto my stomach, then unsteadily hoisted myself to my hooves, shaking bits of cloud out of my mane. I was still exhausted, but it felt like an invisible string was holding me up. I slowly stretched out my wings and my aching neck, then looked back to the west. With a hard flap, my wings spread wide open, and I took off, flying over miles and miles of green hills and greener trees, blue lakes and brown dirt roads, all baking in the sun.

The flight back was hard. I was already dehydrated from my flight out there to wherever-the-hell-I-was, and there weren't enough clouds to stay in the shade. I didn't rush – the closer I got to the farm, the more the gnarled dread in my stomach kept me going at an even pace, reminding me that I might be about to get some very bad news – but the exhaustion still got to me. I felt a stitch in my side for a long time. My wings went from tingling to aching to burning to aching even worse, to the point that I worried I would blow them out. I had to seriously consider just gliding to the ground.

I made it, though. After another hour and some change, I spotted the colorful houses of Ponyville in the distance, and I gave the town a wide berth to avoid being seen. Once I'd coasted around it to the west side, I scanned the ground until I found a red farmhouse on the edge of a patchwork of fields. I flew past it – something told me to go look by the apple trees.

I wish I could say that I was jazzed up, that I knew what I was doing was right, like it was supposed to be, but my head was just… vacant. I was looking for some yellow or a brown hat or anything among the green orchards, but my brain didn't really do much else. Self-defense mechanism, maybe? Or maybe I'd just learned to stop trying to predict things.

Then, I spotted something. At first, it looked like a big pile of lumber out in a treeless part of the orchard, but when I looked again, I could see it clearly: the boards spelled out "BB."

'Big Blue,' I told myself as a smile crept across my face. 'It's not too late.'

My smile was short-lived, though, when I realized that, yeah, maybe it was too late. Braeburn had seen me flip out at Fertile Seed back in Appleloosa, but at least that time I'd had a good reason. I was defending him. I was his knight in shining feathers. The carriage, though? Aggression. Hatred. Violence. I hadn't been defending him. I'd just given in and let my anger control me.

The wind seemed to die under my wings as I tilted them and started spiraling downward. I was dropping altitude, yeah, but even more than that, I felt like I was sinking.

I was moving a little faster than I'd liked, but with everything else going on in my head, I didn't have the capacity to keep my speed totally in check until I realized how close I was getting to the ground.

Pulling back up just a little, I slowed myself enough to land safely, right next to the boards in the clearing. I think I smelled him before I saw him, but when I turned my head, I found Braeburn resting under a nearby tree. He stood up with a weary smile on his face, but something was off, and my stomach immediately dropped.

It's weird how you can pick up on somepony's quirks so quickly. His gait was strange: he was trying to put the same bounciness into it that he did when he was showing ponies around Appleloosa, but it lacked energy. It was lethargic. And… sad. His hooves didn't plant themselves firmly on the ground like they usually did. Instead, they dragged just a little, even though he was trying to cover it up. He was still hiding.

I don't know why I focused on his hooves so much, but I kept doing it until he said in a quiet, raspy voice. "Saw the sign, did ya'?"

I looked up. His was forcing his eyes open enough that they wouldn't just be slits, but I could see how much of a strain that was, and his smile was little more than a slight curve. He was trying, though, and I could at least do the same.

My hooves felt welded in place, so I just nodded and folded my wings back in. "Hard to miss." I paused and added an awkward, "Heh heh," and a toothy grimace.

"Well, you certainly…" He trailed off, and he cast his eyes down as he stopped about a meter away from me. Just like that, his game was up, and he gave up trying to hide the gloom in his soul. "I was afraid you wouldn't come back."

My head slowly turned to the side, and his words stung me in the chest, right in the same place that was telling me to stop being so slow and apologize already. "I… didn't know if you wanted me anymore."

Braeburn didn't respond. A tear rolled down his cheek.

The breeze rustled some of the leaves that surrounded us, and one of the logs rolled off of its place on the B, hitting the ground with a soft toof. The clearing smelled flowery and sweet, but I could still detect Braeburn through it all, sweating even more than when we'd been on the train. The sun still blazed down on us, and combined with what I was feeling inside, it was getting unbearably hot.

Braeburn tried to lift his head, but it didn't come up very much. "W-we–" There was another long pause, and a breeze jostled his soft, gorgeous mane. He closed his eyes and let out a slow breath before he finally looked up and met my gaze, his voice low and mild and clear.

"We need to talk."

Chapter 27 - History

My whole world stood still. The breeze stopped blowing, no birds sang, and the apple orchard didn't even smell like anything. We were in a painting. A still-life. One of those pictures where you don't know the full story, but the weight of everything still gets to you: the two wooden B's, the patches of dirt where the grass didn't grow, the blooming apples trees around us, occasionally dropping petals. It all painted a scene that should have been beautiful and serene, but for all the detail around me, I could only focus on Braeburn's slightly-parted lips. Words hung just inside them, and his eyes searched mine, like he was trying to decide what I would say. The bags under his eyes seemed deep, deeper than mine ever were. His shoulders were a little up, and his head was a little down, and he finally spoke.

"I'm so sorry."

My breath caught in my lungs. My thoughts raced with a million different things he could say. 'It isn't working. He's miserable. Mac talked him out of it. The media attention is too much. He can't stand me anymore. I'm too foalish. I'm too irresponsible. I'm too stupid. I let him down.' And worst of all? 'He's going to leave me.'

I didn't blink. My head pounded, half from heat exhaustion and half from my injury. My tongue weighed at least a ton, and it took all my effort to say, "What… do you mean?"

He slumped. "Just what I said, Big Blue. I-I'm sorry. It was wrong what I did to you, and you have every right to be mad." He turned his head away. "And I understand if you don't want to see me anymore, but I'm sorry."

My brain imploded as his words knocked the wind out of me. "Wwwwwhat?!"

Braeburn cringed, and I immediately regretted yelling. "Suppose I deserve that…" His words cut deep, and the short distance between us felt like a continent.

But he wasn't leaving me. Relief and panic and confusion washed over me all at once, leaving me nauseous. 'Did… he just apologize?' I shook my head all around. "Braeburn, what are you talking about?"

His eyes fluttered. "I was bein' selfish again, Soarin'. I know how hard all this has been on you, too, but I wasn't considerin' how you felt." He paused and frowned at the dirt. Through gritted teeth, he said, "And I do this every damn time. Heat of the moment, and I can't think of anypony but myself."

I'm not a good coltfriend. If I was, I would have realized what he was quoting, realized exactly what was going on and how much Bronze had gotten to him. It was all right there in the letter: Braeburn truly believed that everything was his fault, just like Bronze had wanted.

I didn't notice, though. All I could do was stand there, reeling.

Braeburn kicked at the dirt. "I'm an idiot, Soarin'. A selfish, stupid idiot who doesn't know how to treat you." Our eyes met. "You deserve somepony better."

I felt awful. I was the one that had freaked out and abandoned him and yelled at him, but Braeburn was too gentle and too kind and too broken to see it. I was supposed to be the one to make everything better, and I'd failed. My heart all but stopped, and guilt stuck me like a sword right in the chest. 'He thinks it's his fault. He thinks he's the one causing all our problems.' My throat felt tight. 'Is that what he needed to talk to Mac about?'

I shook my head and took a small step forward. "Braeburn. No. Just… no." He still seemed so far away. "Applebutt, you're the best thing in my life, and…" I gulped. "And you didn't do anything wrong."

He looked up at me again with pleading, weary eyes. "That ain't true, Soarin'. I always get lost in my head when things get tough, and you can see what happened."

I tried to sound firm but gentle. It sort of worked, and my voice was low and a little rough. "Dude, stop. I'm the one that flipped out in the carriage. I'm the one that scared you, and I'm the one that got us into this whole mess in the first place." I looked down and sneered. "I suck. You know it, I know it, and the whole media knows it."

Braeburn looked like I'd spit on his face. He shook his head and took a step toward me, suddenly talking fast again. "No, no, no, Soarin'. Don't say that. You're wonderful. You've taken me all over Equestria." He stood right in front of me. "And you shouldn't be so hard on yourself. It's been a hell of a couple weeks for you, too. I'll admit, we've both had our off days, but things will look better once we…" His voice lost all its color, and he looked away. "…once… things settle down. These things just… take time."

My head hung low, and every time I breathed, my posture collapsed a little more. "Yeah. We should talk after… things…"

We looked into each other's eyes. Braeburn's were tired, drooping, and almost lifeless. There were dark circles beneath them, and they barely focused. His ears were flat, and his mane was a mess.

But he was still my Applebutt. I could still see him, the real him, still alive in there and begging to be let out to breathe. Past all the fear and the pain, he was a beautiful pony.

I wondered what he saw in me.

I leaned in and let my forehead rest against his. It was warm. "Braeburn, you're right."

"About what?" he asked without moving.

"We're both fucked up."

He was quiet for a moment. "Soarin', I don't wanna do this anymore. I don't wanna pretend everything's fine, and I don't wanna hide from you, and I don't wanna wait anymore. It is my fault, and I'm too stupid to know how to fix it."

I sighed. "It's not your fault, Braeburn."

He pulled away suddenly. "Yes it–" He threw his head back and squeezed his eyes shut hard. "Ugh!" He ran a hoof through his mane, nearly knocking his hat off his head, then took another step and wrapped a hoof around me. "Regardless, I don't know what to do."

I did. He didn't want to hear it, and I felt bad having to say it, but I knew. "Just let me in, Braeburn."

His face twitched against mine, and he whispered, "I don't know how."

I smiled weakly. "Heh. I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

He had such strong legs. I'd always admired that about him. From the way he could buck apples to how easily he could carry me to how he squeezed me, every fiber seemed so strong. I was glad I had something to focus on besides the silence.

After a pause, he said, "Deal." He backed up enough to look at me. "Mind if we rest, though? I feel like I'm about to fall over."

"Same."

Braeburn saddled up next to me, and we leaned on each other, holding each other up. His sweaty body pressed against mine, and we slowly walked towards a tree. The air seemed stagnant, but knowing he was there helped me to take just one more step. I didn't want to think about what would happen if I'd been alone.

As we entered the shade, he asked in a voice that sounded like a colt's, "Can I play with your wings?"

The first little weight had lifted from my heart. "Yeah."

I lay down first, on my belly with my head curled around to the left and with my chin resting on the grass. Braeburn lay down on my right, draping his left foreleg and his neck across my back so that our faces were close together, close enough that we wouldn't have to talk too loudly.

His tail swished against mine, and he started lazily stroking me. His hoof explored my wings, first brushing with the feathers, then wedging between them. The little nerve endings buzzed, and a wave of relaxation rolled across my body, the tension receding more and more with each stroke. I was too tired to fall asleep, but it was the most relaxed I'd felt in days. His hoof separated the little fibers of my feathers, gently ruffling them and pushing them out of place. It was a little uncomfortable, but in a comfortable way, you know? Like, it was different, but not bad. His touch was delicate, not harsh. You'd think I'd want a deep-tissue massage or something, but no. I didn't need to have the soreness beaten out of me. It needed to be unwound gently by somepony that knew how to take his time. Braeburn was always good about that – where I was too afraid to slow down, he could always live in the silence and appreciate the serenity of a moment with somepony he cared about.

I think Jonah would have been proud.

He moved gradually up to the joint, then leaned in and kissed the bruise on my head. "You sure that's feelin' okay?"

"I'm fine," I sighed.

"Okay, but let me know if you feel dizzy. I worry about you, Big Blue."

Worry. It's a weird emotion. It's not useful at all. I mean, it's just watered-down fear, right? It gets in your head and distracts you and holds you back, but you don't get that rush of adrenaline you need to actually fix the problem. But it's so hard not to worry, sometimes, especially when there's somepony in your life that's worth worrying about.

I whispered, "Me, too."

"Well, I'm sorry for that." His voice was soft and smooth, and it floated on the wind and made my headache recede just a little.

I moaned. "Applebutt, can we stop saying sorry for, like, an hour or something? It's exhausting."

I felt his chest rumble with a slight chuckle. "Oh, all right. I'll try." He went back to caressing me. "So fess up, Big Blue. What's got you so worried?"

My heart tensed up. I knew exactly what was on my mind, but… "It's hard to say."

Braeburn kept rubbing. "Take your time. We're not in a rush."

I didn't know how to approach it. My brain hadn't unwound that much yet. Fortunately, Braeburn knew how to loosen me up, and it wasn't long before I felt his lips gently preening my wings.

"Mmm…" I closed my eyes, and everything became clearer. I could smell the dirt and the apple blossoms again. I could feel the grass beneath me, first as a large clump, then as individual blades that cushioned me. The air was sticky, just enough to make breathing satisfyingly difficult, and enough that Braeburn's hot breath clung to my feathers.

You can't always force words out. Sometimes, they have to bubble up inside you and come out at their own pace without embellishment. "It's Bronze."

Braeburn paused for just a fraction of a second, and then he kept cleaning my wings, ready to listen.

That's what I needed: somepony to listen. "That letter is super messed up, Applebutt, and when you said you–" I couldn't say it. "–still weren't over him, I just…" My head rolled onto its side a little, enough to brush against his hoof. The heaviness had come back, and I wondered if it had ever really left. "I dunno."

Braeburn kept preening me, steady and practiced and without saying a word.

"I mean, I do know. I keep thinking about everything he did to you, how much you put up with before you threw him out, and how much of an asshole he was. And…" I took a deep breath. I was trying to talk slowly, trying to keep from getting worked up. "And you still like him, even though he's terrible. You still think about him, and you might forgive him, and if he's so terrible and you still like him better than me, then how awful am I, right?"

Braeburn stopped preening for a moment. He didn't say anything, but he squeezed me.

I deadpanned, "No apologizing."

"Heh. I didn't say anything."

"I know."

He took another feather into his mouth, dragged his teeth across it, and quietly spit out the dust. "Fine. You got me. But all that stuff about you bein' worse than him? About me takin' him back and thinkin' he's better than you? That ain't true, Soarin'."

I quickly lifted my head and said, "But what if it is?" I looked up at him, but I couldn't keep eye contact: in one quick moment, I saw a soft Braeburn again, a Braeburn who deserved somepony better than me. I looked back at the dirt. "What happens when you see him again?" That same scene came back to me, and my chest felt tight. "What if you go back to Appleloosa, and he's there waiting for you at the train station, and as soon as you get off the train and see him, you throw yourself at him and forget all about me? What if you want to take him back?"

He frowned. "It's… not quite like that."

I sat up a little more. My left hind leg wanted to kick out, and my wings wanted to spread and take me away, so I wouldn't have to keep talking. But my brain was too far gone to stop. "He already said he was going to wait for you, Braeburn, and what if you give him another chance?"

Braeburn hid under the brim of his hat. "Soarin'… It's not me who'd be giving second chances."

Something clicked. My eyes opened wider. "What do you mean?"

Braeburn sighed and rested his chin on my back. "I didn't throw Bronze out. He's the one that broke up with me."

That… had to process for a while. This whole time, I'd assumed Braeburn had finally kicked him out after their fight, and it's hard to undo beliefs like that. All I could say was, "Really?" I scooted away and rolled over to face him. Dust clung to my mane, and Braeburn lay on his stomach, frowning.

He nodded. "Really."

I shook my head and, completely seriously, said in a flat voice, "The hell is wrong with him?"

"Heh. I don't–"

"Seriously." I raised an eyebrow. "Did he have, like, brain damage or something? I mean, I know he kinda lost it sometimes, but was he stupid, too?"

Braeburn cracked a smile.

I rolled onto my stomach and gestured at Braeburn. "He had the best stallion in the world, and he threw you away? That's stupid!"

"Heh." Braeburn nudged my hoof with his nose. "So you're sayin' I should still be with him?"

"No! I just mean he… shouldn't have let you go?" My face flushed as my brain tried to think logically. "I mean, I'm glad he did, because then we met." My face felt hotter. "Like, he shouldn't have hit you, but since he did, we… Uh…" My eyes opened wide, and my pupils constricted, and I kept up the word vomit. "He shouldn't have treated you that way! But it's good that he did! For me, I mean." My tail thrashed around, and my whole body convulsed. "Fuck! No! I'm not saying you–"

Braeburn put a hoof to my lips. He was smiling and shaking his head, "I wish I would have met you first, too, Soarin'."

I mumbled through his hoof. "Yeah, that." When he pulled his hoof away, I added, "Sorry."

Braeburn gave me a sly smile and narrow eyes. "Now, what did we say about apologizin'?"

My face scrunched up. "…Dammit."

He chuckled. "But you don't need to worry about it much, Soarin'." If only it was that simple, right? "I'm a hell of a lot happier with you than with him."

I meekly asked, "Even with all the media bullshit?"

He nodded. "It's been rough, I'll admit." We lay down next to each other on the grass, and the ends of our noses touched. We breathed in the same air. "Isn't always easy with him, though, either."

"I know." I felt the soft warmth of his nose for a few moments, then delicately said, "You… never told me about the fight."

Braeburn quickly said, "I didn't want to upset you."

I sighed. "I'll be okay." I stretched out a wing and brushed his face with it. "C'mon, I showed you mine."

"Mmm…" Braeburn closed his eyes and let me brush my wing against his face. I watched him go through the same stages I had, slowly letting things unwind. It didn't fix everything, but it made it easier, and each time my wing touched his face, he would smile just a little more. I could feel him relax, and I knew it wouldn't be long.

…

You know…

…

It's hard being honest, right? Especially about your past. Whenever you meet somepony new, you get a brand new start. You don't want to taint your relationship by complaining about all the bad things that have happened to you, so you skip over them. You bury them. They don't come up, even if sometimes, maybe you want them to, and soon you've known somepony for so long that it's weird to let them know you were hiding something from them. You want to talk about it and get it all off your chest, but you don't want to make anypony else worry, especially your friends, but then it just festers inside you, makes you bitter and cold and keeps you from ever getting over it. It takes a lot to let somepony you care about in to see your scars, even when you want nothing more than to have your story told. It's… almost easier to talk to a stranger sometimes.

Braeburn's eyes opened, and his smile disappeared. "I do still love him, Soarin', and he hasn't had it easy, either."

My wing hitched just a little, just for a second. 'No,' I thought. 'Let him talk.' I kept stroking. Every brush of my feathers made his face relax a little more.

"Hard to believe how long it's been since I left Haulihay. Few years now, I suppose. I'd moved out to Appleloosa with almost nothin'. I wanted to be someplace fresh, someplace I could make my own, where I could do somethin' important. Not that my work on Pa's farm wasn't important, but that was always his legacy, and I was just a helper. I wanted Appleloosa to be different. I wanted it to be my town.

"That first year was spectacular. Out of nowhere, ponies started showin' up and settlin' down, and by some miracle, the big wigs in Canterlot saw fit to help us expand further south. The money flowed freely with almost no interest, and it seemed like we were raisin' a new building every couple days. The water tower went up without a hitch, and town hall was bigger than we could have hoped for. Despite the heat, the orchard took, too, and so did our other crops. We all got so much done, and the town thrived.

"But… it seemed like everypony that moved there already had a family, a life. There were lookin' to settle down somewhere and be comfortable. They had what they needed, and all that was left was to find contentment. Appleloosa's a great place to raise a family, and I stand by that, but it ain't so perfect for a young bachelor. I was lonely in those days, Soarin'. Real lonely. I was proud to be so active in makin' the newcomers feel welcome, but you can only bury yourself in your work for so long before your problems start pokin' at you, ya' know?"

I did know. I'd felt the same way in the 'Bolts until just a couple weeks before then. I didn't want to interrupt him, so I just nodded.

"And I couldn't really date anypony there, Soarin'. There wasn't anypony for me. Slate and a few others knew I like stallions, but nopony ever really talked about it, at least to my face. They didn't want to hear it, I suppose, or maybe they thought they were just bein' polite. Makes you wonder though, what they really think of you when they don't even wanna talk about somethin' so basic as findin' a partner."

I paused my stroking to say, "You… didn't have anypony to just be gay with, did you?"

"Heh. Well, in a manner of speaking. But then, one day late last summer, Bronze rolled into town, lookin' for a place to work. I gave him the usual Appleloosa welcome and tour of the town, and I must admit, I was a little more enthusiastic than usual, and the more I got to know him, the more my heart started racin'. See, he'd lost his job on the weather team in Chattahoofa. Brawlin', naturally, but I can't really blame him. Somepony had called him a cock-suckin' faggot – one of his coworkers, I think – and he wasn't gonna take that. Told me he'd messed up the other guy real good, but that he wasn't sorry at all. Said that knockin' the ignorance out of somepony made the world a better place, safer for the next generation of gay colts, and it was worth losin' a job over. He's so confident, Soarin'. He knows what he wants, he knows when ponies are bein' unfair, and he won't let them run his life. He likes stallions, and to him, that's the best way to be.

"And just like that, I did have somepony to talk to. He understood it, Soarin', what it was like bein' an outsider. He was the only pegasus in town at the time. Didn't take him too long to sniff me out, either. He said he saw me blushin' and lookin' away whenever he smiled at me, and he knew. Said I'd caught his eye right away, too, and that knowin' he wouldn't be alone was the greatest feeling he could have had. He understood me, and he promised he'd stick up for me whenever anypony kept me down. Not three days after he'd arrived in town, he showed up at my office with a hoofful of desert lilies. His coat was cleaned to perfection, and I marveled at how it shined whenever it caught the sunlight. With a little redness in his cheeks – probably the only time I've ever seen him embarrassed – he asked me to spend some more time with him. He was courtin' me all proper, like I'd always dreamed of somepony doin', and if I hadn't fallen for him before, well, I did right then.

"Our first date was simple, but it was perfect. He's a pretty decent cook himself, and we each made a few courses of dinner back at my place. He made a wonderful vegetable hash with a side of fruit salad, full of berries and melon and all sorts of things that must have been a bear to find, and he'd blended it with thyme and rosemary, my favorite herbs. He insisted on feedin' me the first bite. His hoof was steady and delicate, even with all his strength, and that first bite was so sensual and satisfying and delicious. I had to give him the same feeling, and… well, it seems a little silly now, but we moved to the couch and ate our whole meal like that, cuddled up and feedin' each other slowly, not a care in the world, from the hash to the salad to the apple cobbler I'd made for desert. And when our bellies were full, we went for a walk outside of town, further than I'd ever walked before, just to be alone and marvel at the stars. We were out there all night, holdin' each other and lockin' lips, not carin' if the earth or the moon or the stars could see us. We didn't need them. We had each other, and we promised we'd never let that moment of happiness end.

"He gave me relief, Soarin'. I was an apple tree in a desert, and Bronze, my cool drink of water, made me thrive. I had somepony, Soarin'. I had somepony that understood me and loved me and made me feel okay, and I was happy. Those were good days."

Braeburn couldn't mask the hurt in his voice or the listless way the words rolled off his tongue. His eyes had glazed over, and the small, safe smile reminded me of the way he looked when we had cuddled back in Appleloosa. It was serene and comfortable, and the pit of my stomach hurt knowing that he wasn't thinking of me.

'Yeah, he really does still love him.' I felt… something. It wasn't numbness, but it was sort of like it. Not sadness or curiosity, but maybe a little bit of concern. Seeing Braeburn relaxed was wonderful, but I knew how the story ended. As much as I didn't want him to ever feel any pain, I needed to hear the rest.

"But there were bad days, too, and as summer rolled into fall, they seemed to get more frequent. It was tough for him to find work. He was certainly fit – devilishly so – but he didn't have the skill set or the endurance for the work Appleloosa needed. It was great havin' somepony that could help manage the weather, but with how dry everythin' was all the time, there wasn't much he could do, and he was always the first to be blamed when we went through a dry spell. It wasn't his fault, but when a farmer can't grow his crops, well, he gets mighty vocal about it, and Bronze had to bear the brunt of it all.

"And that went on for weeks. I felt terrible for him. He'd get frustrated, and he'd curse the town, and he'd say that we should move back to Chattahoofa, where there was at least more opportunity for work, but I… I couldn't do that. I'd tell him that Appleloosa was full of opportunity and potential, and that it was important to me to make sure the town flourished. One night, he went on a longer tirade than usual. I raised my voice and told him to be patient again, and, well, he didn't like that very much. And that was the… That was the f-f… first time…" His voice caught in his throat.

I choked up thinking about how scared he must have been, and I hated myself for making him feel that same fear again in the carriage. I wasn't going to make him say it. I scooted closer and wrapped my wing and my foreleg around him, and he lay his head on my neck. I rubbed my cheek into his mane. "It's okay, Applebutt."

"Heh…" He sobbed a little. "Ya' know… I missed the rodeo that year. Made up some excuse about why my leg was in a cast. Applejack believed it. Everypony did, and that's what hurt the most. I was scared, Soarin'. I was scared that somepony would find out, and…"

It was hard to talk. "And tell Bronze?"

His head shook. "Find out and try to take Bronze away from me."

My skin prickled and felt like ice. All I could do was hold Braeburn closer.

"It wasn't all his fault, Soarin'. It was mine, too. I knew how depressed he was getting, how frustrated he was. He'd already told me so many times about how much he cared about me and how much I was hurting him, too. He needed me. Said he couldn't live without me, but that Appleloosa was choking him. I care about him, Soarin', and no matter what he did or said or called me, he's a good stallion, and I want him to be happy.

"And it's not like he… got heated very often. It didn't happen again for a long time, and I didn't bring it up. Besides, I was under a lot of pressure. We'd had locusts that fall – wiped out a tenth of our crop overnight – and we needed to beg for more support from Canterlot. That meant a list of demands and more rules and more town meetings and a lot of yelling and hurt feelings. I spent a lot of time at the Salt Block in those days, and even more time on the couch at home. See, liquor's just a part of life out there. Helps deal with all the nothingness out in the desert, and bein' a stallion that can't hold his own makes you somethin' of a pariah. I didn't need any more of that.

"So, we drank. A lot. It was something Bronze and I could do together: commiserate and drink until it stopped hurting. He wasn't able to find more than a few days of work at a time, and me? With all the pressures of the town, spendin' all my time coordinating more funding and taking on more responsibilities and seein' him so miserable, I needed it just as much as he did. It got bad, Soarin'. We'd be drunk mornin' to night, when we'd go out and when we'd take the train, and when we'd make love. It was all a haze. It became normal. That's what it was: we'd get home, split a bottle of whisky for dinner, then fuck ourselves stupid until we passed out, just to do it all over again the next morning.

"There was a night, late that winter, just before spring broke, when we'd been pretty deep into the bottle. We were cuddled up on the couch, and he was teasin' me with his feathers, but he seemed tense. I knew not to provoke him, but I was worried, and I couldn't help but ask him what was wrong. He sighed and said he was disappointed in me. He'd been waiting for me to offer him a job at the orchard, to let him run the place.

"And I… I wasn't trusting enough, Soarin'. I failed him. The orchard's my pride, made up of trees that I'd tended since I was a foal. It was something my parents set me up with, a place that I could always go when I felt down. The orchard's my home. It's the piece of the world that makes sense when nothing else does, and even when the townsponies were angry at me or the tourists didn't have a good time, I had a place where my biggest worry was collectin' the whole harvest. I was in control of this little piece of my life, and I just couldn't give that up.

"That got him mad. He threw a fit, yellin' about how I didn't trust him or support him enough. He… said a lot of nasty things. Talked about how he'd been talkin' to the townsfolk about how greedy I was bein', how they said I thought I was some kinda king and how I had to have everything just my way. I told him I worked hard to get where I was, and that just set him off worse. I got a black eye that night."

I shivered. The way he said those words – "black eye" – they were so normal, like nothing was wrong with them. His whole story was that way, though, numb and lifeless. It was probably the only way he could tell it.

"A few weeks later, at the start of spring, he brought it up again. I hadn't budged, but I begged him to forgive me. I tried to explain where I was comin' from, but I couldn't get through to him. There was a lot more yellin'. He told me I had one more chance, then went upstairs and slammed the door. I slept on the couch that night."

My heart was dead still.

"And, in the mornin', he came down. He was fuming, and h–" He choked up. "He told me how disappointed he was that I hadn't tried to make amends that night. He wanted me to apologize, but with that fire in his eyes, I… I couldn't say anything."

Braeburn's tears fell silently on my neck.

"He didn't have any patience for that, and his face turned into a snarl. I don't remember exactly how it all happened, but… there…" He mumbles, "Once across the face, couple times in the stomach. It was hard to breathe. It stung all over, and I couldn't tell if the different parts of me were in pain or numb. Couple kicks to the ribs. Thought I heard a crack, and my head spun, and I was nauseous. I was on the floor, and when I tried to get up, he whipped around and bucked me in the flank, right on my cutie mark."

Instinctively, I brushed his cutie mark with a hind hoof, as gently as possible. It hurt. It hurt a lot. Everywhere.

"His bags had already been packed. He told me he still loved me, but that I'd failed him, and he couldn't stand to live with me anymore, and he promised to stay away until I apologized. He grabbed his bags and walked out the door, and I haven't seen him since."

I wanted to hold him closer. I wanted to cradle him in a cloud and brush his face and his mane and his tail and completely envelop him, just to keep him safe from everything the world could throw at him. It didn’t seem like enough. "Braeburn… how can you still love a guy like that?"

"Because it was my fault, Soarin'." I cringed at his words. "I didn't support him enough. I didn't even give him a chance, and when it mattered, I didn't try to make it work. I told myself…" He didn't finish.

We were quiet for a long, long time. The air had taken on a chill, and everything in the world felt greyer, like our little still-life had been washed out by the sun. My body felt completely empty, drained of everything that kept me alive. All I wanted was to hold him closer.

"Braeburn… I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry." I wanted to tell him about how he was wrong. It wasn't his fault at all. I wanted to make him see that. I wanted him to know that he was safe. There were a thousand things that he needed, and I wasn't good enough to give them to him. All I could muster was, "I'm right here."

Slowly, Braeburn lifted his left foreleg and wrapped it around my stomach. He pulled me in just a bit closer and whispered into my chest, "Thank you."

We didn't move for almost half an hour. It took everything we had left to stay together.

When our forelegs had fallen asleep and our eyes were starting to feel heavy, Braeburn said, "I wanna take you on a date, Soarin'."

It seems random, right? I wasn't going to say no, though. I couldn't deny him anything. "Uh… sure, Applebutt. Whatever you want."

"Not whatever." He snuggled close to me. "I don't want to… You deserve the…" He sighed. "A real date. A nice one, just the two of us."

"I… don't know where we can do that until we get to Cloudsdale."

He nuzzled me. "We're goin' to stop back at Aunt Honeycrisp's." Should I have been suspicious? Maybe. I was thrown off when he added, "I already talked to Mac about it, and he's gonna send a letter off overnight and ask if we can stay."

"Won't that be a little–"

"Just for an evenin', Soarin'. Please. I want… a normal date, where I can cook for you and treat you right, like you deserve. Please. It's important to me."

I hugged him. "Sure, Braeburn. Absolutely."

"Thank you."

We stayed entwined like that for a long time. Neither of us fell asleep, but the radiating warmth was healing enough for a while. We finally had time to breathe.

I didn't want it to end, but Braeburn whispered, "Will you be there for me, Soarin'?"

"Absolutely," I whispered back. "But why are we whispering?"

"'Cuz yellin' would hurt your ears."

"Oh, okay," I said with a bunch of goofy bounce in my voice.

We were quiet again, and Braeburn chuckled.

I cracked open an eye. "What?"

"Heh heh. Nothin'."

"Whaaaaat?" I whined.

"Just… fallow."

"Oh. Are we, like, having it for dinner?"

Braeburn sat up, eyes looking dreamy, and he said, "Afraid it's not in season." He stood up. "And it doesn't keep well." He sighed. "And I still need to have a conversation with my family. You'll be there, won't you?"

I stood up, too. "Wouldn't miss it. I love seeing you blush."

He blushed.

"See? Like that! Totally sexy."

He leaned in and kissed me, then placed his hat on my head. "Thanks, Big Blue."

We headed over to the farm, standing close together despite the rising heat, my wing over his head and his hat on mine.

I… don't really want to go into detail about the talk with his family. It was private, you know? Granny Smith and Applejack said they'd suspected it, but… it's not really my place to say more.

The talk went well, though. Braeburn and I both felt a lot better afterwards, and I was looking forward to our date. We'd shown each other our scars, and we'd made it through together. For the moment, we were okay. Exhausted, but okay.

And for a couple days, I didn't have to worry.

Chapter 28 - The Generosity of Friends

We'd been at the Apple house for two days, and this little pegasus filly had managed to ask me a hundred times, "Are you really friends with Rainbow Dash?" Her name was Scootaloo, and she bounced up and down on the couch next to me while her orange wings buzzed and her short purple mane bounced with her.

"Well…" I teased. "I mean, I gotta be careful what I say. I might be her boss someday."

Scootaloo's eyes lit up. "She's going to be a Wonderbolt for sure!? That's so cool! Rainbow Dash is the best!"

Applejack looked up from her book. "No jumpin' on the furniture, Scootaloo."

I looked up and around the living room. It was an open, square space with wood floors covered in big, decorative rugs. The walls were painted peach-colored, but you could hardly see it behind all the family pictures and blue bookshelves. The ceiling was high, and dark blue wooden beams stretched across the whole thing, giving a strong sense of exactly how old the place was. Apples decorated the trim in every room of the house, and the doors were that old-fashioned barn style where you could swing the top and bottom halves open separately. I imagined it must have been super drafty in the winter, but that day, it felt warm. The whole house had this warmth to it, the comfortable kind that holds onto you and makes you want to just sit and enjoy it with the ponies you care about most.

The Apple family gave off that same warmth, too. It was… weird. Don't get me wrong – I really liked it, but part of me just didn't trust it. It seemed too perfect. Like, how could a family just sit together and be happy and not be tense around each other, especially with everything that was going on? That's… I mean, I know it was my fault more than theirs, but I wish I could have appreciated their family togetherness for what it was.

Scootaloo and I sat on a pink chaise with little hearts sewn on. Granny Smith was knitting quietly on her rocker while Big Mac sat reading the paper on a large, green chair nearby. Applejack had put down the farmer's almanac she was reading and was just enjoying watching Scootaloo go nuts over meeting a Wonderbolt.

Aaaaaaand then there was Braeburn. Poor Braeburn. He sat on a plush, dark blue chair struggling with Mac's other little sister Applebloom and her unicorn friend Sweetie Belle. They sat on the ground, staring at him and waiting for him to answer their question. Braeburn's lip was curled in a weird, wobbly way, and he was actually sweating. "See, I like stallions because, uh… With m-mares, I don't f-feel the same…" He wiped his forehead and chuckled awkwardly, looking everywhere but at the curious fillies. "See, uh… S-Soarin' has some very nice, uh…"

"Eeheehee!" Granny Smith cackled. "He's got quite a set of wings, don't he? That what yer lookin' fer, Braeburn?"

Braeburn flashed a grimace. "Uh, yeah! Yeah, that's it. I really like his wings."

Granny Smith smiled and muttered, "And ya' know what they say 'bout stallions with big wings." Applejack gave her a shush. "Eeheehee…"

Sweetie Belle cocked her head to the side. "But…" She asked in a small, innocent little voice, "How can you have babies? Rarity says you need a daddy and a mommy to make a baby."

Applebloom threw her forelegs up onto the chair. "Yeah, cousin! Are you gonna be the mommy, or is Soarin'?"

Granny Smith flashed a wicked smile. "I'd wager Braeburn's the mare more often than not."

"Granny!" Braeburn shouted, redder than the apple on his ass.

"Eeheehee!" She slapped her knee – which I swear creaked – and shouted, "Well, I ain't wrong, am I!?"

Braeburn flattened his ears, then pouted and mumbled, "I'm not always the mare."

I smiled. He was having a comfortable moment, where all he had to worry about was being embarrassed in front of his family. Nothing else bothered us. I wanted to freeze time like that, but as much as I liked seeing him blush, I had to save him. "Eh, lay off, Granny. He's a hell of a stallion, too." Then, in a soft, relaxed voice, I added, "We can both be the mommy sometimes."

Braeburn's ears came back up a little, and he gave me a shy smile from across the room.

He still looked tired and a little sad, but it was getting better. Two days of rest had done us both a ton of good, and he looked much more glow-y. We'd slept or stayed indoors for pretty much all of Monday, and Tuesday was just some chores, mostly around the house where we wouldn't be seen. The one time we'd gotten to be outside, we'd harvested some asparagus from the far field, and Applejack had cooked it for dinner that night. Good stuff.

Sweetie Belle looked back and forth between the two of us. "You guys are weird," she said flatly.

Applejack stood up and stretched her back. "All right now, little fillies. Best give these two some space. They still need to pack up."

Scootaloo looked up at me and whined, "Aw, you're leaving already? Why?"

Applejack narrowed her eyes and spoke gently but firmly. "Because somepony went and blabbed about these two hidin' out here, and now they need to mosey 'fore the papers find 'em."

Sweetie Belle gasped. "What? That's awful!" She looked at Applebloom. "Who would have told on them?"

Applebloom raised an eyebrow. "I dunno. The only ponies that know they're here are AJ, Big Mac, Granny, and–" Here eyes went wide, and she quickly looked at her two friends. "Uh…" She shrank, and even the bow on her head seemed to deflate. "Sorry, Braeburn."

Braeburn just smiled and shook his head. "It's all right, Little Bloom. Mistakes happen." He reached down and patted her head. "Applejack's right, though. We'd better head out. I wanna get there by tonight."

Applebloom perked up. "Ooh! Where ya' headin'?"

Braeburn narrowed his gaze.

"Oh. Right." She looked away.

Scootaloo started jumping around again. "Can I at least have one more ride?"

Applejack spoke up. "Now, Scootaloo, Soarin's been more than generous with those already."

"Just one more? Please please please please please?"

I chuckled. "Heh heh. Eh, it's fine." I gave her a playful, fake punch on the shoulder. "Just once around the barn and back, though, 'kay?"

"Yay!"

Applejack gestured with a hoof. "Keep it close to the ground, Soarin'. I ain't gonna explain to Scootaloo's parents why she's got a broken leg."

"No problem." I looked over to Braeburn. "I'm always careful, riiiiiight?"

Braeburn just smiled and shook his head.

I got up and stretched, and we walked over to the door and outside, off the porch and out onto the grass. It was a bright, sunny morning, where you could see for miles around. Everything was clear: the sky, the air, and my head. Rolling green hills stretched out everywhere we looked (as long as we didn't look back towards Ponyvile), and fields of crops checker-boarded the landscape. Some of them were already yielding super-tasty fruits and veggies, the stuff that's always fresher than what we get in Cloudsdale. A slight breeze rolled through the grass, making it tilt in waves like the ocean, and the rustling sound made me stop and breathe in time with the wind. The dew was still on the grass, and everything had that wet, natural smell that I'd learned to love. It's the kind of smell you can't get in the city, and sometimes, I wanna fly back out there, just to breathe in the fresh air.

When I looked back down at Scootaloo, she had this wide, beaming smile, and her tiny wings were flicking up and down. I crouched down so she could get up. "Ready, Scoots?"

She squeaked and hopped up onto my back. After the dozen or so rides I'd already given her during our stay, we both knew the drill – she wrapped her forelegs around my neck, tight enough to hold on but not enough to choke me, and her hind legs straddled my back, squeezing a little for extra safety. "Ready, Soarin'!"

My wings flared out and started beating slowly. Not enough to give me any lift, but plenty to get her excited. It was like performing for any other audience: the little uneasiness in the pit of your stomach, the slight light-headedness as your heart rate picks up, and the prickly feeling all across your skin. You know something awesome is about to happen, and you can't decide if it's fear or anticipation buzzing through your body.

I set my jaw and looked straight ahead at the windy road towards the barn. "Awesome! Because here..." My wings beat faster. I hitched up my shoulders into a take-off position. My voice got louder. "…we…" She started shaking on my back. My muscles tightened. My leg twitched. Energy built up inside of me, like a rubber band stretched to its limit. My body was a machine built for just this one purpose, and my blood had been stoked for the big explosion. I was ready. She was ready. It was time to…

"GO!"

Everything released at once, and we rocketed forward, kicking up a giant dust cloud. Scootaloo squealed as we dashed just above the ground, the grass whipping my hooves. We cut left and right, zig-zagging across the trail, and the air tore at our faces. Even over the sound of the rushing wind, I could hear her yell, "This is awesome!" She'd said the same thing on all the other rides, too.

Buuuuuut, since it was the last ride, I wasn't going to go out without one last show-stopper. I stopped zig-zagging and sped directly for the big, red barn, shooting toward it like lightning.

Scootaloo craned her neck towards my ear. "Hey, Soarin'! You might wanna turn."

I kept going.

"Soarin'?"

I beat my wings harder. My breaths were shallow. The side of the barn took up our entire field of vision, and we were too close to brake.

"Soarin'!!!" She clung to my neck…

…and I jerked my wings back, snapping directly upward in a perfect ninety-degree turn and shooting straight up into the sky. I only went up about a hundred feet, but based the high-pitched screaming in my ear, we might as well have flown to the moon. "Oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh!!! Soarin', this is so cool! This is the best day ever!"

I smiled. "Hold on, kid!" I did a quick corkscrew turn, which got another squeal, and finished with a final loop-the-loop before slowly descending in a lazy spiral while she caught her breath.

She was babbling incoherently all the way to the ground, and as we landed, Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle rushed up to us, gushing in that high-pitched tone that only fillies can manage. I thought my ears were bleeding. Somewhere in the middle of it all, though, I managed to pick out a "Thanks, Soarin'!"

I nodded at her and said, "No problem, kid." I gave her one last pat on the head before the three of them scuttled off.

It felt good to be famous again. I got to be a Wonderbolt for a few minutes, somepony that foals could look up to. Scootaloo didn't care that I was in the middle of a media scandal or that I was sleeping with another stallion or that I was a total wreck with the maturity of a newborn puppy. She just saw something in me that made her happy and excited, and that was what I needed.

Braeburn had been watching. He stepped off the porch, the fillies running between his legs. He kept looking at them as he stepped up to me, then turned to me with a smile and a little laugh. "Heh heh. AJ's gonna be mighty sore when she finds out what you did. One of y'all coulda been hurt, ya' know."

I shrugged and smiled. "Eh, worth it. She had a good time."

"She wasn't the only one," he said, nudging me.

I gave him the plastic, celebrity smile and the goofy interview voice. "What can I say? Everypony loves a Wonderbolt, especially a Wonderbolt!" I raised my eyebrows twice in quick succession.

He bumped his nose into mine. "Oh, everypony, huh?"

I lifted my chin up high in the air and flared out my wings. "Sure they do!" I paused, and my expression went a little blank, and I looked back at him. "Uh… right?"

Braeburn blinked at me a couple times, and his smile faded. He tried to keep it there, but it looked forced.

We stood there for several seconds, and an awkward silence hung in the air. A lot of our conversations had gone like that those past couple days. It was a lot better than fighting or breaking down, but something still felt off.

We hadn't talked about Bronze since that big conversation in the orchard, and even though I was still worried about him, something told me that I needed to leave the subject alone for a while, even if I wasn't being completely honest about everything I was feeling.

I felt awful once I realized we were just pretending again, like we'd made a breakthrough but were taking one step back for every two steps forward. It's hard, though, you know? I knew there would be more time to talk when we were alone, and I promised myself I'd bring it up again if he didn't. I needed to be honest with him. He deserved that.

Of course, he wasn't being totally honest with me, either.

Braeburn sensed that he was taking too long to respond, and he forced out a laugh. "You got nothin' to worry about, Big Blue." He leaned in and kissed me, then looked up the road to the house. "We should probably get back inside before somepony sees us."

I stepped closer to him. I didn't want to end another conversation like that, so I whined, "Aw, but I wanna plaaaaay." I stuck out my lower lip and batted my eyes at him.

He put on his mayor voice and gave me a goofy, stern look. "Now Soarin', that wouldn't be responsible. You can play outside later if you finish your homework, but for now, we need to go."

"Make me!" I dove at him.

"Gah!" We tumbled to the ground together, a lumpy mass of tails and legs. "Ha-ha!"

I started kissing him and nibbling at his neck. Not forcefully, but enough that he knew I wasn't totally against the idea of just screwing him right there in the grass. He giggled underneath me until we heard Applejack say from the porch, "All right, you two. Keep it clean. There's foal about."

I stopped and looked down at him, stroking his chest. He leaned in and kissed my hoof. The sun caught his face in a way that made him glow and reminded me how radiant he could look when he wasn't worried about anything. He glanced at me, then reached up and brought me in for a deep kiss, the kind with lots of tongue. His breath was heavy in my mouth with little hints of breakfast. We took our time.

And that's probably the best thing about the country. You can take your time. You don't have to rush to the next show or interview, and if there's something important you have to do, the world will wait for you. You can kiss your stallion. Really kiss him. Feel his rough tongue on yours, his shallow little breaths on your face, and the way he likes to suck on your lip. Feel the muscles in his face tense and relax, and feel the gentle heat from his body melting with yours. There's no pressure, only desire. No schedules, just letting nature run its course. No world around you, just you and your stallion, together.

And so, we took our time. We let ourselves kiss until we were both satisfied, and when we were ready, only when we were ready, we parted lips, snuck one more quick kiss, then stood up and went back inside.

We didn't have much to pack, of course. The train ride to Honeycrisp's would take all day, and we hadn't picked up much stuff from the farm: some snacks, water, tissues, clean clothes for Braeburn… It was all pretty basic.

While we were stuffing things into bags, Big Mac pulled me aside and asked to talk. We sauntered to the kitchen while Braeburn stayed in the living room with Applejack and Granny Smith. Big Mac moved slowly, and we sat down at the table, not saying anything. His posture was different, more relaxed than back at Honeycrisp's farm. His shoulders were lower, and his back wasn't so straight, and his jaw wasn't as set.

I let the quiet stay there for almost a full minute, just to show him I could do it, before I said, "What's up, Big Mac?"

He cracked his neck. "Can't ya' guess?"

I grinned. "Eeyup!"

Big Mac smiled. He was still the same guy from Honeycrisp's farmhouse, but it was different. Over the previous few days, Mac had talked to me more. He'd relaxed around me more, too, and he didn't keep an eye on me all the time. I wasn't just the pile of blue feathers that made Braeburn cry anymore. I was Braeburn's coltfriend, and he was starting to accept that. Maybe even like it.

He kept smiling and scratched his chin. "We gotta talk about yer apple harvestin'."

"C'mon," I said, smiling and rolling my eyes. Braeburn had told his family about us harvesting the spring varietals back in Appleloosa. That was our first date, I guess. It had been the day after I'd arrived, the day he'd made me fly around collecting apples, and the day I'd figured out where the bruise on his cutie mark had come from. I wondered how much Mac knew, but I wanted to stay cheerful. "I wasn't that bad. Didn't he tell you how fast I was?"

Big Mac's chest rumbled. "Huh huh. He told me half of 'em were bruised. Lucky for you he makes a mighty fine applesauce."

I shrugged. "Meh. They're still tasty. A bruised–" My eyes went wide. "Oh! Dude! I get it!" I smiled, and my eyes narrowed at Big Mac as I lowered my head. "Nice try, Mac, but I'm on to you." I pointed a hoof at him.

He gave me a coy smile, and his head tilted back. "Hm?"

"You were gonna do that folksy wisdom thing where you pretend like you have this deep insight, but it's really just a metaphor, weren't you?" I playfully slammed my hoof onto the table. "Ha!"

Big Mac leaned in and stared me right in the eye. It was that same look he'd had right after I'd challenged him to that drinking contest on the first night. "Eeyup."

"Ha! I win!" I threw a hoof in the air, straight up.

"Nope."

I brought my hoof down and raised an eyebrow. "Oh. Right. I need to figure out what it was. Okay…" I leaned in and held my hooves up at the sides of my head to help me think. "So, you were gonna say how I need to learn about taking care of apples, right? How I shouldn't bruise this one, because apples are precious, and Braeburn's my apple or something, right?"

Big Mac rolled his head to the side and scratched his chin again. "Mmm…"

I sat up straight. "Aaaaand, probably that if I bruise this apple, there'll be heck to pay, right?"

He laughed. "Eeyup."

I smiled at him. "Don't worry, Mac. I'll keep him safe."

Mac was silent for a moment, then said, "He really likes you, Soarin', and he's got more troubles than anypony deserves." His tone was somber all of a sudden. "Don't be too hard on 'im."

I got the sense that I was missing something. "Mac, is there something I should know about?"

Big Mac looked over to the other room, and my eyes followed his. Granny and Applejack were talking with Braeburn, and Big Mac just sat and watched for a while. His eyebrows furrowed a little, and he frowned. "Braeburn's had to make some tough choices in his life. Don't pressure him about it. He's, uh, he's already bruised enough."

My heart sank. I played with my hooves. "Mac, I promise I would never, ever hit him, no matter what." I didn't know if I could truthfully say, 'I'm not Bronze' anymore, but I knew I'd never hit him. "Never."

I didn't get a response, and the conversation was floating over from the other room. I looked up at Big Mac, who stared at me with a slack jaw.

My teeth clenched, and my wings folded in tight, and I shrunk. "Uh… did he… not mention that? Dammit. Sorry. I-I shouldn't have…" I suddenly found the floor super compelling.

Big Mac closed his mouth and took a deep breath. "I knew, but… he only just mentioned it last night."

I sat up and let his words sink in. "What?"

Big Mac nodded. "Braeburn told me 'bout Bronze gettin' physical. Last night. I… assumed nopony else knew."

Slowly, my head turned toward the living room, to Braeburn and his family. They were still talking. "You… didn't know until last night?"

"Nope. Sounds like you were the first one to find out."

Braeburn trusted me. He could let me in. It hit me again what an ass I'd been, worried about him wanting to talk to Big Mac. I told myself I had worried for nothing. I nodded at Big Mac and politely said, "Excuse me," before leaving the table.

I walked into the other room. Braeburn was facing away from me and saying something about pie, and I looked at the way his head moved. It bobbed to the side, bright and lively and giving his family his full attention. His posture was straight and welcoming, and he looked outwardly relaxed.

But he had to be thinking about it. He had to be wondering if he should tell them, too, or if Mac would accidently spill the beans as soon as we'd left. He was still keeping it in, even from the ponies he trusted the most.

Except for me. He'd told me. I knew.

I brushed up against him, making him jump and shout, "What the–" I nuzzled his neck and planted a big, noisy kiss on his cheek before cuddling him under his chin, not caring whether Applejack and Granny Smith were staring. With brightness in his voice, he said, "Well, hello to you, too! Heh heh." His laugh made my head swim, and I felt his hoof rub my back.

Applejack cooed, "Aw… y'all are too much." I pulled back and saw her smiling and shaking her head, one foreleg crossed over the other. "To think you wanted to hide somethin' like this."

Braeburn tried to hide his smile. "Well, he is bein' mighty affectionAH!!!" I'd kissed and started nibbling on his shoulder. "Affectionate! Geez!" He leaned in and whispered in a tender voice, "Oh, you stop that. We're guests."

Granny Smith cackled, "Eeheehee! Aw, let 'im have his fun. Prob'ly all pent up, havin' ta keep himself from jumpin' on ya' for two days."

I glanced at Braeburn just as his mouth did this weird little twist and his eyes scrunched up. "Uh… Granny…" His face went red.

Granny Smith waved a hoof. "Aw, don't be so embarrassed."

Braeburn had a slight edge to his voice. "Granny, if I'm embarrassed it's 'cuz you made me out to be a sissy in front of the fillies."

"Hell, Braeburn, don't let somethin' like that bother you none. What business is it of ours that you like a big, strong stallion shovin' himself up yer butt?"

"GRANNY!!!" Braeburn had gone from red to whiter than Celestia's ass.

Granny Smith snorted and flailed a withered foreleg around. "Well, that's whatcha do, ain't it? No need t' be sore about it." She turned to me and winked. "Figure this one'll make ya' sore enough soon as I turn my back."

Braeburn started shaking, and his voice seemed caught in his throat, and he couldn't blink.

Applejack and I died laughing, to the point that our legs gave out and we ended up on the floor.

When I'd regained my voice, I sat up. "Dude! Your Granny's awesome!"

Applejack stood up, still giggling, and wiped a tear from her eye. "She's – hoo-whee! – she's somethin', alright."

Granny Smith gave us all a smug, innocent little smile. "And don'tcha forget it!" She walked shakily up to Braeburn, who had just started to breathe again, and gave him a kiss on the forehead. "Eh, I'm just ribbin' ya', Braeburn. You know we love you, and who ya' shack up with ain't gonna change that." She nodded at the door. "Now you best get goin'. Don't be a stranger, Braeburn, and we'll see you soon."

Braeburn's look softened. "Thanks, Granny."

"One more thing." She motioned at Braeburn to lean in. He did, and she whispered something into his ear, which made Braeburn step back and burst out laughing, too. Granny narrowed her eyes. "Show 'im what an Apple's made of, ya' hear?"

Braeburn hugged her. "I will, Granny."

"There's a good colt." She turned to me as well. "Soarin', pleasure ta meet ya'." She gave a polite little bow. "And I fully expect ta see ya' at the next reunion, ya' hear?"

I flared out my wings and stood tall. "Wouldn't miss it."

"Well, there ya' go! Happy travels, you two. Send word that yer safe once all this nonsense calms down."

Braeburn nodded. "Will do, Granny. Thank you."

Applejack stepped forward. "Wish you two could stay longer. Even if the circumstances ain't exactly ideal, seein' you again made us happier'n a bear in a beehive."

Braeburn tipped his hat. "Well, we loved bein' here, AJ, and it's been mighty kind of y'all to welcome us on such short notice, but, uh…" He clicked his eyes to me. "We still got some business to take care of, and we wouldn't want the papers swarmin' this place like a buncha parasprites."

I cocked my head to the side. 'Business?'

Braeburn smiled wide. "Besides," he said, throwing a leg around me and tightening his grip.

"Hey!" I struggled, but he had me.

He gave me a noogie. "It's all I can do to keep this guy – oof! – behaved!" He nuzzled my head and let me go. "He gets pretty crazy sometimes."

Big Mac wandered into the room. "Seems like he's just crazy for you, Brae."

I laughed, "Ha!" and narrowed my eyes at Braeburn. "See? Everypony else likes it!"

Big Mac looked between the two of us. "Uh… y'all ready?"

Braeburn nodded, ignoring me. "Eeyup!"

I saluted. "Ready!"

Big Mac straightened up. "All right, then. Cart's just outside."

Applejack sighed. "Sorry Twi couldn't just teleport you there. Said she hasn't researched long-distance spells on other ponies yet, and that there could be disaster if she's never seen the place. Said she'd figure it out soon, though."

Braeburn perked up. "Oh! Well, how soon is soon?"

Applejack rolled her eyes and said in a flat voice, "I figure halfway between two weeks and never." She chuckled. "Probably safer to just take the train. Y'all know the drill?"

"Mm-hm! Mac'll stash us in the cart and take us to the east side of the station. Miss Rarity'll be there to get us on the train and sweet-talk anypony that tries to bother us."

Applejack winked. "Ya' got it." She gave Braeburn one last big hug and told him, "Be careful out there, Brae, and let us know if there's anything you need. We love you, cousin, and we all just want you to be happy and safe."

"I love you, too."

I wanted those words. I wanted those words more than I wanted air.

"And I will. I promise."

Applejack let go. "I'm holdin' ya' to that." She turned to me. "Soarin', you're a good stallion. Take care of him, will ya'?"

I nodded. "Totally."

Mac was next, and I saw him tear up a little as he and Braeburn hugged goodbye. He said something to Braeburn, who responded, "Yeah. It's… for the best. Thanks, Big Mac." Something about his tone resonated inside me and made me feel hollow, but I couldn't place it.

I got a hug from Big Mac, too, and before they could start with another week-long goodbye, I grabbed our stuff and pushed Braeburn out the door.

Outside sat a rickety old cart with two big, wooden wheels and a yoke for a large stallion. It was well-sanded and dusted, at least, but I wasn't looking forward to our trip. The back was big enough for both of us to lie down on our sides, and it was lined with fresh hay. We crawled in and lay down, and Big Mac covered us with a hot, heavy, scratchy blanket. The sun beat down, and it smelled like the rest of the farm, but just a little more intense. Braeburn and I snuggled up against each other, our cheeks touching.

"Don't fidget, 'less you wanna get caught," Big Mac said from outside. The cart tilted up, and we heard the squeaks of Big Mac adjusting the yoke. With a small lurch, the cart rolled forward.

Braeburn and I stayed in the cart without moving for a few minutes, and I started reminiscing about the day we'd met. Weird to think how things had kinda gotten back to where they'd started: I was in trouble and needed help, and there I was, riding in the back of a cart again while somepony else took care of me. It wasn't completely the same, though. This time, I had somepony with me, somepony that meant everything to me.

I couldn't help it. I knew we weren't supposed to move at all, but I turned my head just a little and gave him a peck on the cheek. He smiled at me, then leaned in and closed his eyes. His mouth was open, and even though we'd agreed not to move too much or make much noise… weeeeell, kissing doesn't make that much noise. We shared a long, slow kiss, his rough tongue…

…running along the top of my mouth. He jerked his head away and gave me a toothy grin.

I shuddered, and my wings twitched, and the tickling feeling raced across my skin, down my neck and to my tail and to every hoof, and it was so, so much worse because I knew I couldn't move. I scowled at him and bit my cheek until it stopped. When it finally passed, I mouthed, "Dick."

He mouthed back, "Later, if ya' earn it."

We stuck our tongues out at each other, and I bit mine when the cart stopped suddenly. We both tensed and held out breath.

"Good morning, Big McIntosh!" It was a mare's voice. Bouncy and a little condescending, and it reminded me of Princess Celestia. Or maybe Spitfire on a weird day. I dunno. She sounded super friendly, at least.

Big Mac stammered, "Uh… uh…" He didn't usually stammer. Braeburn tried to mouth a word to me, but I didn't understand and just shook my head.

The mare said, "I'm glad we bumped into each other! May I walk with you? I'm heading to the train station, and I would love some company."

Braeburn and I stared at each other, and neither of us dared breathe.

"Uh…" Big Mac paused, and the cart rocked just a little. He must have fidgeted.

We were both sweating. 'No, Big Mac. No no no no NO!!!'

"Uh… Ee… Eeyup."

I couldn't see much under that blanket, but I made out Braeburn biting on his hoof. I wasn't faring much better. My wings itched and told me to fly away as fast as I could, and it took all my focus to keep my hoof from tapping against the cart.

The cart moved again, and the mare kept talking as it rolled along. "Thank you, Big Mac! That's wonderful to hear. You see, I was hoping you could help me with something. It's very important that you keep it a secret, though. Nopony can find out."

Big Mac's voice shook. "Uh… uh…" I could almost hear him sweating, and his gait became awkward. The cart tossed us side to side, and we had to struggle to keep in place and not let the blanket fall off while we pretended to be sacks of flour. I may have let out a small, "Eep."

The mare said, "I'm sure I can trust you, Big Mac. After all, you'd certainly tell me if everypony in town started gossiping about one of my secrets, right?"

Big Mac groaned, and the cart slowed just a little. Poor Mac. A few other voices floated by, so we had to be someplace public, and he obviously cared about whoever this mare was and didn't want to hurt her feelings, but how the hell do you weigh that against family, right?

She said, "You see, I have a few… friends staying over at my house."

Braeburn and I stared at each other with wide eyes.

"Well, one of them is a pretty new friend, actually, and the other is my cousin."

Wider eyes.

"You've probably read about them. They've got quite a reputation these days."

We weren't so much ponies with eyes as we were eyes with ponies attached as an afterthought.

"Do you understand what I'm saying, Big Mac?" she said in a mockingly sweet tone.

Big Mac kept going. His voice squeaked, "Uh…" He cleared his throat. "Ee… yes."

"Well," the mare began. "The problem is that one of my students – I won't say who, of course – found out. She hasn't kept the secret very well, and now I need to sneak them out of town before word spreads too far."

She knew. She knew, and she was teasing us. I wanted to bolt out of there, but there were still other voices nearby, and I couldn't risk it.

"But I'm worried that somepony will notice us." Her voice became much softer and milder. "And it would be so much easier if I had somepony to talk to while I snuck them to the train station."

Big Mac stopped in his tracks. "Hm?" He paused, then we moved forward again.

"That's right, Big Mac. You see, if I were to start pulling a big cart through the center of town in the middle of the day, I'm sure somepony would stop me and try to make conversation. And, of course, they'd want to know what was in the cart. That would be terrible!" She giggled.

"Yes!" Big Mac's voice boomed. "Uh…" He regained his composure. "It… would."

"Right. But if a certain somepony kept talking to me during the whole trip, then I bet I could get all the way through town without anypony interrupting our conversation or asking about the cart." She spoke up a little louder. Just a bit. "And my guests would be perfectly safe, and nopony would know they were there."

Either a sudden gust of wind picked up and blew half the buildings in town over, or Big Mac let out the largest sigh of relief I've ever heard. "Ah… Heh heh." We sighed, too, and only then did I realize how sore and tight my wings felt.

The mare said, "Of course, I'd love to thank such a helpful pony for their assistance. Maybe… by taking them out for milkshakes after my friends were on their way. Would that be alright, Big Mac?"

I don't think I've ever heard him so relieved. "Heh heh. Eeeeeeeeyup!" The cart slowed down again a little. "Thanks, Cheerilee."

Braeburn gently shook his head and smiled. He whispered, "Way to go, big guy."

I whispered, "Marefriend?"

"Heh. Not yet, but give it a year, tops."

Big Mac and Cheerilee – well, mostly Cheerilee – kept talking all the way to the train station. Eventually, the ground changed to rougher rock, and I started getting a headache from all the bouncing. Fortunately, though, the turbulence didn't last long. Big Mac stopped and unhitched himself. He let the yoke down slowly so we wouldn't get jostled around too much.

Cheerilee asked, "Do you need any help with them?"

Big Mac paused for a long moment. "Nope. Looks like Miss Rarity's doin' her job." Another pause. "We'll be alright."

"Well, okay, Big Mac. I'll see you at Sugarcube Corner once you're done. Take your time, though. I'll just be working on lesson plans for next year. Talk to you soon!" The rocks crunched under her hooves, and as she passed by the cart, she cheerfully said, "Good luck, you two!"

We stayed still, and after a few moments, Big Mac said in a low voice, "She's a mighty fine mare." I don't think he was talking to us.

We stayed under the blanket, groaning about how hot it was. A couple minutes later, another set of hooves crunched up to the cart. "Dreadfully sorry, Big McIntosh." Another mare. Canterlot accent. "Promontory is simply enamored with me these days, and I couldn't very well give him a cold shoulder. He's been so kind to all of us lately, after all." She paused. "Oh, dear! Is Soarburn still under there?" A silver-blue aura enveloped the blanket. "It looks terribly itchy. Couldn’t you have found them cashmere? Or at least velour?" The silver magic lifted the blanket, and fresh air and light flooded in.

We were behind a cluster of bushes on some loose, gray rocks. A train rested on the tracks about three meters away, and the roof of the station was visible over the train. We must have been on the edge of town. To our opposite side, we saw a big, open plain with a shallow river running through it. A few houses were scattered around at the edges of our vision, but there weren't any ponies with cameras around, so we were okay.

Rarity magically folded the blanket and set it down on the grass. "There we are. Much better!" She turned back to us and nodded her head. "Good day, Soarin', Braeburn. Lovely to see you both again."

Rarity didn't look like most unicorns. Sure, she was all proper and looked more delicate than an earth pony or a pegasus, but there was something about her, more than just her white coat and neatly styled purple mane. Maybe it was the unwavering way she stood or her slightly downturned eyes that looked confident without being bitchy. Maybe it was the slight lilt, or maybe it was her perfect grooming. Whatever it was, she looked delicate without being fragile. Does that make sense?

She was also beaming and shaking slightly with excitement, "Ooooh, this is almost too much!" She trotted quickly in place, biting her lower lip, and any accusations of pretentiousness went out the window when she squealed like a little filly. "Eeee!"

Braeburn sat up and tipped his hat. "Thank ya' kindly, Miss Rarity. We really appreciate your help."

Rarity took a breath, turned her head to the side, and waved a hoof. "Oh, you charmer! I assure you, the pleasure is all mine. To think I would get to assist Soarburn in the middle of their escape! It's like something out of a Nickering Sparks novel!" She threw her head back. "Ah!" She was gushing again.

Braeburn laughed. "Well, I don't know much about…" His head tilted to the side. "What did you call us?"

Rarity was taken aback, and she settled down. "Why, Soarburn, of course! It's all over the tabloids."

Braeburn blinked a couple times. "Uh… what?"

She looked genuinely shocked. "Braeburn, you're part of a celebrity power couple now! Lovers like the two of you always have a portmanteau fan name." She turned to me. "Soarin', I'm surprised you didn't tell him."

I just shrugged. Yeah, the papers did that sometimes, but I always thought it was pretty stupid.

Rarity spoke up again. "Oh, no matter. There will be plenty of time to catch up on your newfound fame later." She struck a series of increasingly ridiculous poses. "For now, there's excitement! Adventure! A daring escape!"

Big Mac stepped toward her. "Uh… Rarity?"

"It's just overwhelmingly romantic. Star-crossed lovers from different worlds, fleeing a public that can't possibly understand them!" She held a hoof to her forehead and closed her eyes, and I thought she might faint.

Big Mac's eyes narrowed, and his voice was flatter than usual. "Rarity."

Rarity whipped her head towards me, and her purple mane bounced against her face. "The bright, rising star, fleeing his loneliness, ever searching for inner peace in a lifetime of noise!" Her voice had become rushed and overly dramatic.

I hopped out of the cart, sweat evaporating off my skin. "Rarity?"

"And you!" she shouted at Braeburn, pointing a hoof. "The simple farmpony, THRUST onto the world stage against his will, fighting the inexorable tide of fame!"

Braeburn stood up in the cart. "Miss Rarity!"

"Whaaaaaat?" she whined. When she saw us glaring, her smile drooped, and she straightened her mane. "Oh, apologies." She bowed slightly. "Forgive my romanticism. I'd always imagined myself as the star of such a story, but I must say that being an accomplice to your tryst has been equally, if not more satisfying." She adjusted her mane. "Oh, but listen to me! I refuse to be the chatty friend that gets you caught at the last moment." Her horn glowed silver-blue, and a window on the train opened. "Now, we mustn't waste time. I asked Promontory to fetch me a few first-class tickets, and I imagine he'll be back any moment. Are you ready?"

"Just a tick, miss." Braeburn turned to Big Mac and gave him a big hug. "Gonna miss you, big guy. Thanks for everything, and I'll, uh… I'll see you soon."

Mac squeezed him. "Eeyup. Take care, Brae." He let go, then came over and offered me a hoof, which I took. He looked me square in the eye and set his jaw. "Brae says you're a good stallion, and past coltfriends aside, he's got a good head on his shoulders. You treat 'im right, ya' hear?"

I nodded. "I will, Big Mac." I glanced at Braeburn. "Ready?"

He puffed up. "Ready!"

Rarity had stars in her eyes. "Superb!" She cleared her throat. "Ahem. Now, do try to relax. This may feel a touch odd." Her horn sparked to life, and my vision was tinted silver.

Levitation isn't like flying. It's like falling. You feel completely weightless, and you can't control where you twist or turn, no matter how much your wings rotate. The ground practically disappears from beneath you, and you lose all sense of orientation. Honestly, I think it was totally reasonable for me to flail around shouting, "Weh!"

Rarity rolled her eyes. "Hold still, Soarin'. This will only take a moment, but I need to fit you through that dreadfully tight window."

Braeburn snickered. "Unless you wanna be on top the whole way."

I'd rotated upside-down, so I craned my neck to face him. In a sultry voice, I asked, "Is that an offer?"

Rarity squeaked.

With a deep breath, I folded my wings back in "Okay. Good to go."

I felt a slight pull upwards. Rarity delicately floated me through the air and into the open window, setting me gently down in the middle of a large room. It was a luxury car. A real one.

"Score!" I shouted, pumping a hoof.

It was a triple-wide, and there weren't any stupid bunks to hit your head on. The room was painted a deep crimson with gold highlights, and a small chandelier hung from the ceiling, lit with gems. There was a minibar to one side, and a table with two chairs sat near the door. A bathroom, tiny but private, took up one corner of the cabin, and there was one large bed with red silk sheets. Silk sheets! You can barely get that on a normal luxury train. There was even a heart-shaped pillow on it. Plus, there was a little gift bag and a card laid out on the bed. I figured we'd gotten the honeymoon suite and that the help had left them for us as part of the package.

I jumped a little when a set of hooves landed behind me, and I spun around to see a smiling Braeburn drinking it all in. He let out a long whistle. "Celestia's name, look at this place!"

Our luggage gently floated in through the window and landed next to the bed.

I took a second look around the cabin. "Yeah. Didn't know they even had trains like this all the way out here."

Braeburn raised an eyebrow. "They, uh, they usually don't." He looked around again, and I could see the gears turning. "Rarity must've…" Braeburn turned and jumped to the window, which shut just as he got there. "Hey!" With quick hooves, he tried to open it, but a faint glow still covered the lock.

I flew over and hovered above him. "What?"

We both looked out the window. Outside, Big Mac and Rarity were walking away, but Rarity looked back and caught us staring. She gave us a sly little wink.

Braeburn laughed a cute laugh. "Generosity indeed."

I glided over and landed on the bed. I kneaded it with my hooves. It was soft and spongy – that fancy stuff that feels like a cloud but twice as firm.

Anyway, that stuff's not cheap. I mumbled, "No kidding." I sat down and noticed the gift bag again. Pointing to it with a hoof, I said, "Wanna open this thing?"

"Aw, she didn't!" Braeburn trotted over, kicked off his vest and hat, and joined me on the bed. "Heh heh. 'For Soarburn.'" He looked at me. "Do they really give ponies fan names like that all the time?"

I lay down. "Oh, yeah. Totally. Back when I was dating Sapphire, they called us Soarshore."

Braeburn's face wrinkled up. "Oh, yuck."

"I know, right?" I laughed. "Freaking awful."

He looked back down at the bag. "I think Soarburn has a nice ring to it."

I smiled. "Me, too." I nudged the bag towards him. "Go for it. I've already gotten plenty of gifts from fans, and you'll need to get used to it…" I bumped his cheek with my nose. "…Mister Celebrity."

"Soarburn…" Braeburn said with a sigh. He shook his head, opening up the envelope. The card inside had an intricate, hoof-drawn pattern of blues and golds and oranges. Braeburn flipped it open and read, "To Equestria's Darlings, the cutest couple…" He looked up at me. "Are we really 'cute'?"

I put a hoof on his. "Heh. You sure are."

He chuckled and kept reading. "…the cutest couple I've ever seen. I hope you don't mind terribly much–"

"Do the accent."

"But I took some lib-air-teez with th' rum." It was like listening to a colt doing an impression of an eighty-year-old doing and impression of a nut-job. Mixing accents does that, I guess. "Do styay sa-afe a-and… and–" He snickered. "Do stay safe, and know that some of us are still rooting for you." His impression dropped off, and his voice became a little softer. "We haven't forgotten the ponies amidst the story, and as much as your fans may gush over the romance of it all, your happiness is what we care about most. Please enjoy these little gifts – you deserve all of them and more. Keep in touch, and good luck. Your friend, Rarity."

Braeburn sighed. "That's mighty sweet of her." When he heard me snickering, he looked up at me. "Aw, the accent wasn't that bad."

I had a hoof in front of my face to hide my grin. "Yeah, it was." I put my hoof down and peeked into the bag. "What's inside?"

Braeburn tipped the bag onto the bed, and after unraveling the tissue paper, we found a big box of fancy chocolates, some deeply red wine, two red towels with monogrammed "S" and "B," and a bottle with tiny wording. Braeburn picked up the bottle and squinted. "Natural oils for massage and–" He bit his lower lip to stifle a smile. "Oh my."

I leaned in, but I couldn't read the words. "What is it?"

Braeburn cocked his head to the side. "Personal use, alone or together."

I threw my head back. "Ha! She wants us to bone!" I laughed a few times. "Dude! Stallion sex totally gets her off!"

Braeburn laughed along with me and set the bottle down. His voice became bouncy and a little sarcastic. "Well, after all these nice gifts, it wouldn't be right to disappoint her, now would it?"

Wrapping a wing around him, I said in a bubbly voice, "I like the way you think." My eyes caught the chocolates again, and I remembered something he'd done with Bronze. "Buuuuuuut, maybe we can cuddle and, like, feed each other chocolates first? That stuff's supposed to be an aphrodisiac." Part of me realized I was just desperately trying to replace Bronze in his life, but the rest of me knew it would make him happy. I like to think that's what made me want it. "That okay?"

Braeburn narrowed his eyes, then pushed the gifts gently to the side. He leaned in and pushed me onto my back, pinning me down. I didn't fight it, and he started kissing all along my chest until he was gently nibbling my neck.

I moaned. I liked where he was going.

Braeburn licked the side of my face, then stopped with his mouth right next to my ear. He whispered, "I finally have my sexy pegasus all to myself, and you really expect me to wait?"

My cheeks flushed. I felt head rising in my chest. "So… sex first?"

He laughed smoothly and warmly. "Eeyup. Then you can have your chocolate. Then more sex, then chocolate, then sex." He squeezed me with his big, strong legs, and I felt myself melt. "If you're up for it, of course."

My body felt warm, and a smile crept across my face. "Oooooh, yeah," I moaned.

"Good." Sensually, he said, "Now get yourself ready. Granny says I gotta make a proper mare outta you."

And holy fuck, he did.

Chapter 29 - Four Words

We lay on the large, soft bed, our bodies warm and sticky as we enjoyed the afterglow and the soreness. Dark chocolate still coated the inside of my mouth, and I ran my tongue around my teeth and sucked out the extra flavor. A seed from a chocolate-covered strawberry had gotten stuck in my molars. The plush bed seemed like it barely moved, even as the train rattled along the tracks. My tummy ached, and so did my butt. But it was a good ache. Braeburn was spooning me and gently petting my belly, and that made it feel a little better. His head rested on my face, and the smell of milk chocolate and toffee rolled across my nose. Between breaths, he nibbled lazily on my jaw. My head swam with each tired, playful bite.

Our bodies were exhausted all over again, but in a good way this time. We'd gone at it three times over a few hours, and between the different positions and eating the whole box of chocolate, our nerves buzzed from overstimulation. Every little fiber in me felt like it was alive, like I would shake apart, and Braeburn's strong legs were the only things holding me together.

Resting his chin on my head, he whispered into my ear, "Mighty fine way to spend our last train ride. You have fun?"

"Mmm…" I cuddled back into him. "Yeah…" I craned my neck back, and we kissed deeply for a few long, luxurious moments. "It's not the last one, though. The 'Bolts perform all over Equestria, and we'll have plenty more train rides. You'll come to the shows, right?"

Braeburn paused, still stroking my belly. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly before nuzzling me. "Of course I will."

After a few more hours of snuggling and dozing off (plus one more session for good measure), the train began to slow down. The momentum rocked us forward as the conductor put on the brakes a few minutes later, but we didn't rush to get up.

Braeburn stroked me one more time and cooed, "It's time to go, Soarin'. If we wait any longer, somepony might come 'round and kick us off."

I sighed. His hoof felt so good petting me like that. "Yeah, okay… What's the plan?"

Braeburn sat halfway up and kissed my cheek. "Not much of one, actually. Aunt Honeycrisp's letter said that we could show up whenever we needed to, but it ain't easy coordinatin' somethin' like this by mail." He squeezed me. "We can probably get a carriage, though."

"Okay," I said softly, closing my eyes again. I didn't move.

Braeburn snickered and nudged me with his nose. "C'mon, Soarin'. Let's go."

"No," I whined. "Carry me."

He laughed. "Ha! Fine, ya' lazy ass."

I cracked an eye open and smirked. "Hey, my ass is not lazy. It's just had a rough afternoon."

"Heh, least I can get up when I have to." Braeburn stood up and stretched, and then he collected our dusty saddlebags. He packed Rarity's gifts into them, slung both of them over his back, and walked back to the bed before putting his forehooves on mine. "You ready?"

"Ready for whaAAHH!"

He yanked me towards him and ducked down. I slid off the silk sheets, landed sideways on his back, and stopped snugly between the two saddlebags. "Geez, Brae! Little warning first?"

He straightened out his back and stood up. "Heh heh. Aw, Soarin' gettin' cranky after his nap?"

I laughed and gently jabbed his flank. "Eh, shuddup," I said with a smile.

Earth ponies are great. Braeburn carried me and all our stuff out the cabin doors and down the hall to the exit. We were getting off at Hoofenburgh, one of Manehattan's exurbs, along with just one other couple. Luckily, they didn't notice us.

The station was pretty standard for a rural area: a well-kept platform and a wooden building in the middle of a big plain. A few signs advertised for local and big-city tourist sites, and the weather-worn signs directed us to the impossible-to-miss stairway. A bored-looking mare sat behind the counter, flipping through a magazine. She raised an eyebrow at us and stood up to poke her head out the window. "He okay?" she asked, pointing to me.

Braeburn responded with a hearty, "Eeyup! Just a little too much fun, I think. He's fine."

She looked disappointed. "Oh. 'Kay." She went back to lazily flipping through her magazine.

The only other pony that noticed us was a tired-looking carriage driver. She perked up when she saw us descend the wooden stairs out onto the dirt road. "Uh, hi!" She walked up to Braeburn. She was a green earth pony mare, and as she got close, she tipped her wide-brimmed hat and said, "Mr. Apple and Mr. Windsong, right? Do you need a lift?" She stopped and raised an eyebrow. "Or, like… an ambulance?"

I shook my head and flapped my wings, jumping off of Braeburn's back and landing next to him on the dirt road. "Nah, it's cool, thanks, but… could you keep it down?"

She nodded. "No problem. I think you'll be okay, though. The Equinerer said you were heading for Las Pegasus again, and every other paper ran with it." She looked between us. "Need a lift? No charge!"

Braeburn shook his head. "That's mighty kind, but we insist on paying."

"No, really! It's fine. It'll be fun enough just to help out." She shrugged. "Hell, this is the most exciting ride I've given in months!"

When she wasn't looking, I winked at Braeburn and said, "Okay. If you're sure."

"Absolutely! My name's Greener Hills, by the way. Can I get your bags?"

She loaded everything up for us. Her service was better than most hotels I've stayed at, even if she was more "friendly neighbor" than "charming professional." I liked her. She was chill. We even rode up at the front of the small carriage in the navigator's seat, just so we could talk more.

The countryside rolled past us as we got further and further from the train station. It was a place I recognized from my flyovers, at least a little. The trees grew thicker the more we got away from the train station, and little ponds and rolling hills reminded me how easy it was to escape the city if I needed to. Manehattan's skyscrapers dominated the horizon behind us, but we focused on the ride.

Greener Hills was bright and cheery. "Your aunt didn't mention you were coming. I guess I can understand why. She's pretty crafty."

Braeburn asked, "You know her?"

"Sure! My mom plays cards with her on Tuesdays, and my dad's on the community council with her."

I nudged Braeburn. "Leadership runs in the family, eh?"

He smiled. "I suppose it does. What runs in yours?" When he saw me frown, he blushed and said, "Uh… s-sorry."

I don't blame him. It was a natural question. Still hurt a little, though. "It's okay," I said quietly. "Honestly, I wish I knew."

The sun had gotten low in the sky by the time we'd arrived at Honeycrisp's farm. Braeburn distracted Greener Hills while I got our stuff, and I left a small pile of bits inside for her to find later. After that, we said goodbye – a quick one, for once – and I promised to give her a headshot the next time she was at a show.

The house was the same as I remembered it: a little red two-story house with dark shingles. It looked solid and square, and it sat in the middle of a large patch of grass with a small path leading out to the main road. It didn't look weathered at all, and it was probably the most welcoming house you could ever want, but…

I didn't want to go in. I froze, staring at it, the details of our first fight playing over and over in my brain. I'd crashed into Braeburn's apple cart, and he'd brought me back to make sure I was okay. He'd even made me a pie, and the conversation we'd had was special. It was real. There wasn't any celebrity worship or falseness to it, and for the first time in a long while, I'd felt like I was having a real conversation with somepony who liked me. But that hadn't been enough for me. No, I'd thought all I wanted was another warm body to grind against, and when I hadn't gotten it, I'd flipped out and said some awful, awful things. All because I wanted to get off. Stress isn't an excuse, and neither is anything else I could come up with. I'd yelled at him and berated him, right after his previous coltfriend had done the same. Seeing that house brought it all back.

Braeburn bumped his flank into mine. "You okay, Big Blue?"

"Yeah," I said, still staring at the house. "Just…" I looked at him. "You go first, okay?"

Braeburn cocked his head to the side, then opened his eyes a little more. He smiled slightly and nodded his head. In a soft voice, he said, "I understand."

We walked up the path with our stuff. Braeburn knocked once on the front door, and then he walked right in. "Aunt Honeycrisp? We're here!"

I walked in right behind Braeburn and saw a purple mare turn away from doing the dishes. "Braeburn?" Honeycrisp was tall for a mare, and she was built like a workhorse. She still managed to look feminine, though, with her light blue mane wrapped up in tight bun and wearing a little eyeshadow that matched a petite jeweled necklace. When she spoke, she seemed halfway between the country accent Braeburn used and the Manehattan accent I was used to.

She quickly dried her hooves and trotted over. "Come in, come in! How was the trip? Glad you made it safely, of course." She gave Braeburn a kiss on the cheek and, looking at our studs, said, "I love the new accessories y'all are sportin', and you better believe I'll want to hear about it." Then she turned to me. "And you must be Soarin'! Pleasure to meet you."

"You, too, Honeycrisp. It's–" My eyes snapped wide open, and my wings drooped. "Uh…" I suddenly remembered something else from my first trip to her orchard, and I knew I had to take care of it. I reached into my bag and grabbed a bit, then gave it to her. She looked down at it with a raised eyebrow, and I bit my lower lip. "Actually…" I fished out several more bits and placed them in her hoof.

Honeycrisp looked between the bits and me. "Pardon?"

My eyes darted around the kitchen. "I… yeah. They're for… messing up your apples." I gulped. "Aaaand trying to steal one." I felt like a foal admitting he'd cheated on a test.

When I looked back up, Honeycrisp wore a smug smile. She said to Braeburn. "Honestly, I'd forgotten, but who am I to stand in the way of a stallion settling his debts? You found a good one, Braeburn." She looked back to me. "I like him."

I breathed a sigh of relief, and Braeburn bumped me with his shoulder, saying, "Yeah. I like him, too."

Honeycrisp set the bits on the kitchen table. "Now, come on in, you two!" She looked at the clock. "Better not rest too long, I'd say. Geez, I'm running late on dinner." She turned back to us. "Got caught up baking a cake for one of the workers on account of his new colt, and I've been behind the whole day." She flicked a hoof and rolled her eyes. "No bother, though. Y'all come in and take a breath, and I'll cook us something nice. Of course, since y'all are staying here, I'm expecting you to help with the dishes. Ha! Anything to get out of that. Shouldn't take you too, long. I've got washer liquid near the sink and a few fresh rags in the cupboard."

I could see where Brae had learned to take charge.

We went to the parlor. Honeycrisp sat on a big chair, and Braeburn and I sat on the couch. Yes, that couch. The one we'd made out on right before I'd freaked out at him. I felt my wings tense.

Braeburn, though? Braeburn sounded like we were still cuddling on the train. He sighed and said, "Been a hell of a couple weeks, Auntie Crisp. Couple months, actually. Seems like life hasn't settled down since Bronze left." He took off his hat and set it aside, followed by his vest. "Just about drank myself to death, came here, met Soarin', and then that whole…" His ears went in different directions, and he cocked his head to the side as he said to me, "Actually, how would you even explain what happened?"

I groaned. Honeycrisp noticed. She gave me a wry grin and said, "This'd be the part where you apologize again?"

I turned my head towards Braeburn. "Yeah. Sorry again, Brae. I shouldn't have said that stuff."

He leaned over and kissed my forehead. "Forgiven. You did come all the way to Appleloosa to apologize, after all."

Honeycrisp laughed. "See? I knew he was the type to make things right."

I snorted and said, "Yeah, eventually. I… still kinda screw things up a bunch."

"Everypony does," she said with a nod. "The important thing is that you try, and when things go south, you make 'em right. So, you stayed in Appleloosa for a few days, and then the big story broke, and y'all skipped town. Is that about right?'

Braeburn nodded.

"Mighty lucky none of those reporters were able to follow you."

Braeburn chuckled. "Heh. Nothin' lucky about it." He nodded to me. "Soarin' and Slate and I gave 'em the slip, and Soarin' knows how to handle those assholes in the media."

"Did you really hide out in Las Pegasus?"

Braeburn lit up, and his eyes sparkled. "Aw, you shoulda seen it, Auntie Crisp! They had lights and roller coasters and everything! Soarin' even took me to the gay strip club!"

I snapped to attention and whipped my head first toward Braeburn, then back to Honeycrisp. I couldn't believe how forward he'd been about that, but then again, this was one of the family members Braeburn had come out to.

He continued. "Never thought I'd see one of those. Heck, didn't know they even existed! Ever taken a gander at a buncha dancers like that, Auntie Crisp?"

She threw her head back and flicked a hoof at us. "Ha! Well, can't say that I have. Mighty expensive, as I recall. Plus, I can get an eyeful whenever I want to with the farm workers." She winked at me. "Don't you worry, though, Soarin'. I'm not that kind of gal. Always keep it professional." She nodded at Braeburn. "I take it you had a good time, then?"

"Oh, of course! I got to… I got to just be gay for a while, and even if all that pink and all those fancy clubs don't suit me much, I'm glad I got to try it. Soarin'…" He looked at me and put a forehoof on mine. "Soarin's shown me a lot over the past month or so. He makes me feel like it's okay, that everything's gonna be okay, even with all this nonsense."

I smiled and blushed and let his hoof just stay there for a little while.

Honeycrisp cleared her throat. "Hate to name the devil, but you're sure this isn't just a fling to get your mind off of Bronze?"

She was just concerned for Braeburn, and I was in too good a mood to let her spoil the moment. Instead, I just laughed and feigned offense. "Ha! I'm sitting right here, you know."

"Yes, you're right here, and that speaks volumes," she said in a tone that was both firm and warm. "But I gotta keep an eye out for my favorite nephew." She lowered her voice and put on a sultry tone. "So if you hurt him, I swear you'll regret it."

I smirked. "Heh, between you and Mac, there wouldn't be anything left of me." Braeburn snorted next to me, and I asked, "What?"

Braeburn smiled. "Mac's size is mighty intimidatin', I suspect, but really, I don't think he'd have it in him to hurt somepony."

"More for me," Honeycrisp giggled. "Speaking of family, though, Cortland and Gala caught hell a few days ago, didn't they?"

Braeburn nodded. "Uh-huh. Some asshole reporter stalked us out there. We kinda…" He looked down at the ground, and his ears fell flat. "It was a bad day." His eyes flicked toward me for just a moment.

Taking a deep breath, I set a hoof on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Braeburn." That hoof turned into a hug, and I held him a while Honeycrisp looked on.

Braeburn hugged me back. "I know, and I'm sorry, too, much as you might disagree with me feelin' that way." We stayed like that for a few moments, then separated. Braeburn continued his story for Honeycrisp. "The Ponyville side of the family hid us for a couple days, but we had to get outta there, too. Trust me, Little Bloom's got quite a big mouth."

Honeycrisp let out a long breath. "Hoo! Quite the tour you colts went on. So, now you're here. What's next?"

I butted in. "We're going to Cloudsdale until the heat dies down."

Honeycrisp raised an eyebrow. "Really, now? Huh. That'd be a sight."

We filled her in about a bunch of other little details: me getting cut from the roster, getting our ears pierced in Las Pegasus, Braeburn having words with his parents. We… left out the bit about us fighting in the carriage after I almost bashed that reporter Tom Ink's face in. I think it was still a little too raw.

Luckily, Honeycrisp eventually decided she'd had enough. We went back to the kitchen, and Braeburn and I washed dishes pretty much non-stop while Honeycrisp made dinner: a spicy tortilla and rice dish with a bunch of vegetables. It was tasty, but not Braeburn tasty. By the time we'd finished eating, explaining more about the trip, and cleaning up again, the sun had gone down.

Since gem lamps were scarce, we got ready for bed. As we climbed those wooden stairs, they didn't seem so daunting anymore, not with Braeburn leading the way. The upstairs was just like I remembered it – small and cramped, perfect for one pony to live by herself but not enough to have many guests over. Once we'd brushed our teeth and were snuggling into the bed, Braeburn rolled over to me and said, "Gonna be a big day tomorrow, Soarin'. Auntie Crisp's retiring to the guest house tomorrow, and she's lettin' us use this one all day. I hope you don't mind, but I'll need most of the morning to prepare."

I smirked, "So does that mean I can sleep in?"

"To a point," Braeburn responded. He leaned over and kissed me, long and slow. When he pulled away, he said, "G'night, Big Blue."

"Night, Applebutt."

I slept well that night. I didn't dream. Who would need to? I had everything I would ever dream about right next to me. Besides, the pillow was still going to smell like him in the morning.

Before I knew it, there was a poke at my side, and then another. I whined in a raspy voice, "Whaaaaat?"

Braeburn's soft voice floated to my ears. "Time to get up, Soarin'."

"You said I could sleep in."

"It's almost noon."

I opened an eye and saw him shaking his head. I said, "Fine. You all done with… whatever it is you needed to do?"

He smiled. "Eeyup. Made it to the market early, and the laundry's out to dry. Now, eat your breakfast before it gets any colder. I'll be downstairs when you're done, but, uh… don't worry too much about cleanin' yourself up." He winked at me, and I felt my spine tingle.

The smell of warm, buttered oats with cinnamon finally registered in my brain. I rolled over and looked at the end table next to the bed. It was set with a little tray that had a bowl of oats, a sliced orange, some apple juice, coffee, and toast. There was even a little vase with a fresh daisy inside.

My jaw dropped. "Dude, how long have you been awake?"

"Heh. Oh, 'bout dawn or so."

I looked back at him. He looked fully awake. He didn't have his vest on, but his hat was squarely on his head, and he was smiling down at me. The fog was clearing, and I said, "Braeburn, this is super nice. Thank you."

He leaned in and kissed my cheek. "You're worth it. I'll see you downstairs." With light steps, he left.

I was stunned. I sat up and looked at the stained-wood door, but nothing changed. Slowly, I grabbed the tray and brought it onto the bed. I stared at it, finally reaching down and nibbling on the corner of my toast. It was buttery with just the right amount of jam. I set it down.

The room stayed frozen a moment longer, until a smile spread across my face, and my eyes watered just a little. In a soft voice, I said to myself, "He thinks I'm worth it."

Breakfast was delicious, of course, and it gave me time to finally look around the room. If you've ever been in an old farmhouse before, you know that musty, stale, woody smell that never leaves. The walls were covered in a yellowed wallpaper, and a few awards and certificates hung there, most for some charity function or other. Two rugs covered most of the floor, and a large wardrobe took up one corner, turned forty-five degrees so you could actually open it. The room felt cozy, and I wondered how Braeburn would decorate my condo.

Once I finished breakfast, I grabbed the tray, headed downstairs, and rounded the corner into the kitchen, where a little golden pony caught my eye.

Braeburn was beautiful. It was like a vision or something. He was sitting at a small table, naked except for his hat, eyes on a newspaper and lifting a cup of coffee to his lips, blowing on it just slightly. His coat glowed in the sunlight that streamed through the window. He looked peaceful. Calm. At home.

He looked up as I set the tray on the counter. A warm smile spread across his face, and he set his paper and cup down. "Afternoon, Big Blue. You ready?"

My heart skipped a beat. "Uh, sure? Ready for what?"

He chuckled. "Pick a towel."

Braeburn was all ready to go. He had a big bag, and soon we were out the door. The air smelled like apples and freshly cut grass, and from the house's place on its little hill (which, according to Braeburn, kept it from flooding), we could see out over the orchard, hundreds of different trees waving in the warm breeze. Cicadas buzzed nearby, and as we stepped onto the dirt path that led away from the house, jagged rocks poked at our hooves, but not enough to slow us down.

Shortly after we'd left, a moth landed on the brim of Braeburn's hat. He let it stay there, eyeing it and smiling. I offered to swat it away, but he gave me a gentle look and said, "Aw, he ain't hurtin' anypony. You should just let him be." I don't know why that hit me so hard, but it did. I couldn't remember the last time a moth or butterfly had landed on me, and I wondered if they just knew who was the gentlest.

It was a warm day. Not hot, but we were sweating by the time we'd gotten a few hundred paces down the road. I offered to carry the bag, but Braeburn just said, "Well, I wouldn't be very much of a gentlepony if I didn't carry my date's stuff, now would I?" He beamed at that. He stood up straighter, too.

I could tell he liked it this way: traditional and safe. Still, I couldn't let him just have it. "Oh, so I’m your mare now?"

He cast a sly look my way. "Soarin', what would be the point of bein' gay if I liked mares?"

"Ha!" I flashed a cheesy grin and leaned in a little. "Admit it, Brae. You liiiiike me being your big, strong stallion."

He smirked. "Or maybe I like makin' my 'big, strong stallion' into my little bitch."

I snorted a laugh, then bumped my shoulder into his. "Oh, c'mon. You take over one time and–"

"Three times, technically."

"Okay, fine, three–"

"And there was that night in Las Pegasus."

My voice caught in my throat. "Uh–"

"You remember, right?" he asked, grinning and looking at me with narrow eyes. His voice lowered. "That night where you were beggin' me for more? I seem to remember somepony liked havin' a black scarf over his eyes."

I felt myself shrink. My stupid brain kept flashing back to Las Pegasus: Braeburn blindfolding me, exploring all over my body, and making me feel more submissive than I'd ever felt before. I awkwardly crossed my legs.

Braeburn noticed. "Heh heh. Looks like you remember."

"Y… yeah," I sighed.

He rubbed up close to me. "Aw, don't feel bad about that, Soar. Hell, I like that role as much as you did. Nothin' like it." I chanced a look up at him. The sun shone in his eyes, and he stood proud and tall. Leaning in, he nuzzled me and said, "And I really don't mind you takin' me to town, if that's what you want. That's the way I like it most of the time. No shame either way, ya' hear?"

Heh. Getting a lesson in being comfortable with yourself from the guy I'd thought was totally closeted. Life's weird sometimes.

Braeburn saddled up closer to me as we stepped out of the orchard and onto a wider dirt road. "We'll have plenty of chances to explore it both ways." His voice got quieter. "Plenty of time, okay? You need to understand that."

I pulled my head back to look at him more directly. "What's wrong, Applebutt?"

He perked up again. "Oh, I'll tell you later. Right now, just enjoy the day, okay?"

"You sure?"

He stopped and smiled, then hugged me and softly said, "I'm sure. Today's all about us, okay?"

He was warm. "Yeah," I whispered back.

"Good," he said, pulling away and jerking his head towards a small lake at the end of the path. "Because I don't want you belly-achin' when you're eatin' my dust! Yah!" He reared up and took off sprinting down the road.

"Wait, what?" I blinked a few times, then realized what was going on. "Oh. Shit!"

Crouching down, I launched myself forward, wings flapping as hard as I could from a dead stop. He'd had a head start, but it only took a few seconds before I was speeding right by him. I winked at him as our eyes met, and a few moments later, I landed on a small, sandy piece of land that could generously be called a beach. There were only a few meters of sand, and the lake wasn't very big: maybe forty meters across. I imagined it was artificial, but at least it was clean, and a small, wooden dock led from the beach to the center. Even if the whole thing was pony-made, it felt secluded and pure, like that old swimming hole that grandparents always seem to talk about. Just standing there, breathing the fresh air and seeing all the nothingness around us… It felt safe.

I turned around to see that Braeburn had almost caught up. "Ha! C'mon, Brae." I gestured to myself. "I mean, Wonderbolt! C'mon!"

He galloped up to the beach, then tossed the bag and his hat onto the sand alongside him. "Don't be so cocky, mister. You haven't crossed the finish line yet."

I looked over my shoulder at the water. It might as well have been frozen over. "Oh, hell no."

"Yee-haw!" Braeburn shouted, dashing for the dock. He galloped all the way to the end, and with a quick tightening of those ridiculously powerful legs, he leapt, soaring through the air until he landed with a giant splash. He went completely under and didn't come back up.

I shook my head. "No bucking way," I said, staring at the water. I was already shivering, and I tried to think of how I'd get out of having to swim.

But Braeburn didn't come up for air.

I wasn't buying it. I rolled my eyes and shouted, "Nice try, Brae! Not gonna happen."

He didn't come up for air.

And he didn't come up for air.

And he didn't come up for air.

I fidgeted. Slowly, the desire not to get splashed was overwhelmed by fear. I'd seen it happen: pool parties where somepony got wasted, passed out into the pool, and nearly drowned. My heart raced, and my hooves felt like lead, and my whole body felt cold.

And Braeburn didn't come up for air.

I panicked and bolted over there. "Dammit!" I hovered at the end of the dock, scanning the perfectly calm water for any signs of yellow. My heart stopped, and I landed on the dock. "Braeburn? Braebur–"

"Gotcha!" Braeburn popped out from under the dock. His hooves wrapped around my body, and just like that, I was going down. I tumbled in, and the cold pierced right through me. I was completely disoriented, and some water went up my nose and into my sinuses.

The hooves around me let go, and I struggled to the surface, my lungs burning and my legs flailing. As my head broke the surface, I sucked in a big breath and shouted, "Fuck!!!" My wings flailed, but I was too bogged down to fly, and I thrashed about, trying to swim. "Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK!!!" Damn, it was cold.

"Aaaahahaha!" Braeburn erupted from the water near the dock. "Soarin'… Eh heh… Soarin', just stand up!"

If there's one thing in the world that can calm me down, it's that voice, and even though my muscles still spasmed and every inch of me wanted to get out, I finally let myself sink a little. When my hooves hit the bottom, the water only came up to my chin. "Oh." I glared at Braeburn. "Not cool, dude."

Braeburn was still chuckling as he waded over to me. "Well, you weren't gonna get in on your own, were ya'?"

I scrunched my face up and tried really, really hard to look genuinely mad, even though I wasn't. "No. I can't fly like this, especially since it's so cold."

"Well, I think that just means…"

I cracked a smile. "You'll regret it…"

"…that you just need to get used to it!" He slapped the water, splashing me on the face.

"Hey!" I shouted, splashing him back. I flapped my wings at him and managed to send a wave of water into his open mouth, followed by another quick splash from my hoof.

Braeburn pushed another wave at me, and we laughed, splashing each other and getting closer and closer until we were together, close enough to go in for a kiss.

Of course, we both knew it was a trap. We immediately reared up and tried to wrestle each other under the water. We kept shifting our weight and trading momentum, each of us taking turns below the surface. Braeburn managed to dunk me a few extra times – freaking earth ponies, right? – but he didn't get away with a dry mane, either. But I didn't mind. When we touched, the water didn't feel so cold anymore.

We eventually ran out of breath and stood in the chin-high water, laughing some more. Braeburn's mane was stuck to his face, and I'm sure mine was no better. Our laughter subsided, and then, our eyes met. Water dripped from our faces, and we spent a few minutes just looking into each other's eyes. They were green. So green. Greener than the grass or anything else. I didn't really have any thoughts, just this feeling. It was a feeling like we were getting closer together without even moving, like we were sharing the same space and that the world didn't exist beyond the water's edge. The stillness was comforting and refreshing, but the desire to get closer built up inside us, growing and growing until we couldn't hold back and just had to leap on each other all over again.

We played around some more, and when we got tired, we floated on our backs in the crystal clear water, letting the sunlight warm our bellies and our faces while the water kept us from getting too comfortable. We took shallow breaths to stay buoyant, but it wasn't too hard to just lie there, enjoying each other's presence.

Our ears were barely above water, and my eyes were closed. The smell of flowers perfumed the air. A few insects buzzed past us, and when a bee landed on my stomach, I didn't swat him away. I just lay there, watching him take small steps across my skin. He looked at me with those weird insect eyes of his, and then he turned around, trusting me to be cool. Tiny waves lapped at my sides, and my tail twisted lazily in the water below. Soon, the bee left. Neither of us had gotten hurt.

I could hear Braeburn breathing nearby, and I reached out a hoof to him. He wrapped his hoof in mine, and we lay there on our backs, feeling the warmth in the silence.

At least, it was silent until I started snickering.

Braeburn asked in a flat voice, "What?"

"Eh, nothing."

I could hear his tail flick just below the surface. "That didn't sound like nothing. What is it?"

"Really, it's fine," I said through another little laugh.

"Heh. Don't make me take you under again," he teased.

I cracked an eye to look at him. "Just… sunshine. Down there."

"Ha!" He adjusted a little in the water, and it took him a second to start floating again. "Yeah… Feels nice, don't it?"

"Yeah…"

We sighed together and kept floating. My mane danced like seaweed below me. We floated on like that for a long, long time, still holding onto each other, never wanting to let go.

After I'd nearly dozed off, Braeburn said in a quiet voice. "I want you to be happy, Soarin'."

As much as I tried to resist, those words brought me back to the real world. Focusing on shallow breaths, I opened my eyes and turned toward Braeburn. He was looking right back at me. He had a kind of sad smile on his face, and his eyes drooped.

I held his hoof tightly. "I am happy, Braeburn."

It was true. I couldn't think of the last time I'd gone so long without having second thoughts, without questioning what was going on or what somepony was hiding from me. I hadn't been worried all day about work or the media or anything else. That might have been the best gift he gave me that day. No, wait. Second best.

Braeburn shook his head slightly, as much as he was able without going under. "Not just today," he said. "Always, as much as you can be. You're a good stallion, and you deserve to feel good. You're not some screw-up, and I… I just want you to know that."

His words resonated in my soul. They warmed me more than the sun ever could, and they felt complete, like nothing else could or needed to be said. I had to tell him something, though. I couldn't hold the words in. "I really, really, really want to kiss you right now, Braeburn."

He smiled, a real one this time, and in a soothing voice, barely audible above the wind and the tiny splashes against our bodies, he said, "I can do you one better."

My heart beat faster, and I smiled, too.

We swam back to the beach and shook off. Braeburn looked breathtaking and radiant, glistening in the sun. He was true to his word, and, keeping our bodies as close together as possible, we dug into the bag and laid a towel out on the sand. Braeburn had brought the lube, and he set it on one corner of the towel. He lay down on his back, legs in the air, waiting for me. I slowly lowered myself onto him, kissing him deeply and letting our bodies warm each other, our hearts beating together.

We made love on that beach. It was slow, and it was comfortable, and it was perfect. We breathed in time with each other, and we didn't care if the whole world saw us. The wind gently dried our coats, twisting all around us but never finding its way between us. We didn't speak, and we barely even moaned. Slow. Relaxed. Together. We crossed the threshold subtly, as comfortable and natural as waking up in your coltfriend's embrace.

We stayed together long after we were spent. After several minutes, I finally settled all my weight down onto him, and we dozed off.

We must have slept for over an hour, and I'm lucky I didn't get badly sunburned. We might have stayed asleep longer, but a stiff breeze made me shiver, and that woke both of us up. Braeburn cleared his throat and moaned. In a raspy voice, he said, "We should head back. Still lots to do today. Should probably shower first, too."

I squeezed him tightly. "Can we wash each other?"

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

We walked – I remember I didn't fly – back to Honeycrisp's, staying close together the whole time. I felt connected to him, like there was this tether between us that nothing could separate. I liked it.

Back at the farm, we went upstairs again and into the bathroom. While Braeburn was getting more towels, I snuck another smell of his mane. It smelled like sweat and sex and lake water, and it was almost a shame to wash it all out.

Luckily, Honeycrisp's house had plenty of hot water. The shower was tight and not really suited for two ponies, but once we'd drawn the curtain closed and the steam had started curling around our bodies, we didn't care. We wouldn't have wanted more space, anyway, and as we gently scrubbed each other, we found ourselves just pausing and enjoying the feeling, over and over again. And there was a lot of kissing, and we went through all the hot water by the time we were done. I promised I'd pay Honeycrisp back for that, too.

We dried off, and my muscles felt completely relaxed, like I was ready to fall over.

After that, Braeburn led me downstairs. We walked into the kitchen, and he started pulling ingredients out of the cupboards. He'd gone shopping that morning while I'd slept in, so it didn't take him long to find everything.

I looked around. "So… what are we doing?"

Braeburn set a bag of flour on the table. "Well, I'm gonna make dinner. You," he said, pointing a hoof at me, "… are makin' dessert."

I threw my head back. "Ha! Okay. Buttered bread it is."

He looked down with a smile. "Soarin', I wanna give you a gift."

My head cocked to the side. "Cool! What is it?"

He smiled and pulled a small, gift-wrapped box out of the pantry and said, "Had to hide it where you wouldn't look." He gave it to me.

I opened it, and inside was a small, metal box. On top was a fancy, pink paper label that said "Recipes" in fancy hoofwriting. Braeburn's hoofwriting. I stared at it.

Braeburn came up beside me and said, "Look at the first one."

I set the box on the table and opened it up. Squinting and reading carefully, I read it aloud. "Two-Apple Twirl?" It dawned on me, and I looked up. "Braeburn, that's…"

He nodded. "The pie I made for you before, yeah. It's my specialty, and I want you to know how to make it, for whenever you're feeling down."

I felt my eyes water just a little. "Thank you, Braeburn." I set the box down and hugged him.

"You're welcome, Big Blue."

I half-chuckled, half-sobbed into his neck. "You know I'm going to screw it up, right?"

He laughed and held me tighter. "That's why I'm here to help you. But you can do it. Honest. I know you can."

"Thanks, Applebutt."

"You're welcome. Let's get started."

I sighed and looked back at the table, but I caught the clock out of the corner of my eye. "Wait, it's only, like, three o'clock. I thought pies were pretty quick."

Braeburn winked at me. "Got a lot of confidence in yourself, don't you?"

Braeburn helped me get everything ready: he called out ingredients, and I'd find them on the table. He taught me all the basics, from what a tablespoon was – it's not just the spoon you put on the table, it turns out – to how to level off flour to how you should add wet ingredients into dry ones so you don't make a mess. When everything was measured out and set up and I had my space on the table, I turned to him and cheerfully said, "Okay, now what?"

He was starting to mix something on the counter. "Now you follow the recipe."

I tensed up. "Uh… what are you going to be doing?"

"Makin' the rest of dinner. It's a little complicated, so I won't be able to hold your hoof, but don't worry. You'll be okay."

I stared down at the recipe card and didn't move.

"Just think of it like a Wonderbolts show."

I nodded. 'Okay,' I thought. 'Yeah. Just like a show, in front of the most important audience of your life. But you got this.' I smirked at myself. 'Who the best? You the best. Who the best? You the best. You're Soarin' Bucking Windsong. You got this.' I squinted down at the first line of the recipe card for a few seconds, but I couldn't read it.

Braeburn laughed. "Aw, my hoof-writin' ain't that bad, is it?"

I blinked a few times and tried harder. "Flour… flour the… Flour the work surface." I looked up at Braeburn. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He was cutting up some butter into chunks. He didn't need a measuring cup. "You gotta put flour on the table so the crust doesn't stick."

"Gotcha." I figured two cups would be enough, so I leveled it off like I was supposed to and forcefully dumped it onto the table.

Braeburn would later say that the cloud of flour puffed all the way up to the ceiling. I didn't notice, though, since I was too busy hacking and sneezing and wheezing and trying to spit the excess flour out of my mouth. In my panic, I jumped back into the air, flapping my wings to get away, but that just made the flour go everywhere else, too, including into my feathers. When I realized what I was doing, I dropped straight to the ground, but my hoof bumped the table, and the sugar spilled onto the floor.

When the white dust settled, I stood there, frowning. "…Dammit."

Braeburn was busting a gut behind me, enough that his legs buckled and he ended up on the floor. I just glared at the very well-floured surface.

Braeburn got up, still snickering. "Heh heh. Aw, don't be sore. You haven't wrecked the show yet."

I sneered at the white table. "Yeah? How do you know?"

He came up beside me and kissed my powdered face. "Your audience is still here."

And I felt better.

It went like that for a couple hours. I forgot to add a bunch of stuff the first time, and the second time, the dough ended up on the floor after it had wrapped around the rolling pin. I didn't slice the apples thin enough at first, but Braeburn showed me how. I mixed up the salt and the sugar at one point, but thankfully he tasted my work at every step. I kept screwing up, but after a couple hours of frustration and determination, I had it. The crust was kind of inconsistent and grey, and the apples weren't all the same size, and there was a little bit on the top that wasn't covered because I hadn't rolled the crust out enough, and I'd forgotten to preheat the oven so it took twice as long to bake as it should have, but I still smiled. I'd done it.

Using the hot-pad holders Braeburn had told me about, I took the pie out of the oven and set it on the windowsill, just like they always do in the books. Was it perfect? Hell no, but it smelled amazing. I licked my lips and just stared at if for a while, and a smile spread across my face as I said out loud, "Holy shit, I think it's edible!"

I'd been so wrapped up in my own work, I was taken aback when Braeburn appeared next to me. "Wow. That looks spectacular, Big Blue!" He wrapped a hoof around me and kissed my cheek. That was reward enough. I felt pride swell in my chest – I'd made Braeburn proud, and that was as good as any pie.

He let go and said, "Smells might tasty. Perfect timin', too. Dinner's about ready, and the pie should be cool by the time we're ready to eat it." Did I want to dig in and eat it right there? Maaaaaaybe, but I was willing to wait. "Now then, why don't you clean up and head out back?"

I looked at him. "What? Why?"

He smiled. "You'll see."

I did as I was told, and my nerves buzzed as I stepped outside and rounded the corner to the back. There, in the middle of the clearing between all the trees, Braeburn (or maybe Honeycrisp) had set up a wrought-iron table with a glass top, accompanied by two chairs. It had the whole treatment: white linens, red candles in heavy silver holders, and a bottle of chilled white wine with two glasses. It was all against this idyllic backdrop of the apple orchard with the sun hanging low in the sky. It was fancy and welcoming all at once, the kind of atmosphere that Canterlot's best restaurants wish they could have, and Braeburn had made it perfect.

I was stuck in place, wide-eyed and barely breathing. "Wow."

Braeburn came up behind me, carefully balancing a tray with our meals. "Best hurry, now. Wouldn't want it to get cold." Always practical, my Applebutt.

I slowly nodded and stepped over to the table. Braeburn served us each a large, rectangular plate. On it was a ramekin with creamy risotto with tomato sauce, a mixed green salad with homemade raspberry vinaigrette, and apple bruschetta with herb brie. The plate was perfectly clean and precise, like the kind you'd pay fifty bits for at a fancy restaurant. All I could do was sit down at the table and stare. "Braeburn… this looks freaking amazing!"

"Heh," he chuckled, sitting down and unfolding his napkin. "Well, I'm glad, but I care more about how it tastes. Let's dig in."

I sampled everything, and it was spectacular: creamy, cheesy, with a mix of textures and deep, brilliantly blended flavors. Rich, but not too heavy. Everything was perfect. I shook my head after a few bites and looked up with a smile. "Yeah, I'm still happy."

Braeburn smiled.

We ate slowly without saying much. I needed to savor it, the meal and the atmosphere. The sun was still an hour or so from setting, but this quiet hush had taken over the orchard, like we were in our own little paradise.

After a few more bites, Braeburn sat up suddenly. "Oh! Almost forgot the wine." He stood up, uncorked it, and slowly poured us each a glass, not spilling a drop. "Sorry it ain't anythin' fancy."

As he corked it again, I raised an eyebrow and smiled. "Applebutt, when have I ever complained about you not being fancy enough?"

He blushed as he stuck the wine bottle back into the chiller and sat back down. "Well, I'm not much of a wine expert. Don't get much out in Appleloosa 'cept for weddings and the like." He started rambling, and his eyes kept darting between the bottle and me. "Wouldn't really know the good stuff from the junk. Heh heh. Not that I think it's junk, really. The nice mare at the store said it was a good one for the price, and I didn't know if I should spend more for the really high-quality stuff, but she said that most ponies wouldn't even know the difference, and, uh, do you drink much wine?"

I leaned onto the table and laughed. "Nah. Wine tasting's bullshit anyway."

His face went a little white. "So you don't like it?"

I narrowed my eyes. "Brae, I haven't even tried it yet."

He blushed again. "Oh. Right."

My heart sank just a little, but I knew what to do. I lifted the glass to my nose and snorted loudly, pretending to inspect the smell. In my snootiest Canterlot accent, I said, "Mmmmmyes. An aromatic blend of heady flowers, with just a… a hint of citrus. Must be a Bourgeois Oaks 18-year. Quite good. Quite. Mmmmyes…."

Right as I looked back at Braeburn, he burst out laughing. He covered his face and tried to calm down, but it took him a while, and he wiped a tear away from his face. "Dammit, Soarin'." He looked back up, grinning. "Now I'm almost afraid to try it."

I shrugged, still holding the glass. "Meh. You should. Besides, I can't drink it until you toast, right?"

Braeburn nodded, then lifted his glass. "To you, and to me, and to us." He sighed and shook his head, just a little, a small smile still on his face. "To… an adventurous past, a wonderful present, and a bright future, whatever it may look like. To us."

"To us," I said.

We each extended our glasses. The rims met with a soft clink, and we drank. It was a good wine, and after we'd each tasted it, we exchanged reassuring nods.

We set our wine glasses down, and I marveled again at the meal that was still in front of me. "How do you do it, Brae?"

He wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Well, I learned from the best."

I thought about what that meant, and my shoulders slumped.

Braeburn must have sensed my tension. He reached over and put a hoof on mine. "You did, too, Soarin'. From everything you've said about him, your daddy seems like one hell of a guy."

I set my napkin down on the table and shrugged. "I… don't know." I looked out to the trees that spread out from the clearing. "I feel like I never paid enough attention, you know?"

His hoof pet mine.

I sighed. "I mean, don't get me wrong, he taught me a lot of stuff when I was a colt, but I don't know how much of it really sank in. I'm not on the weather team, and he didn't, like, teach me to cook or fix stuff." I looked back to Braeburn. "He was always super encouraging, and I think he wanted me to do my own thing, you know? But, like… it feels like I missed out, like there was more I was supposed to learn."

Braeburn smiled. "Well, you learned how to raise a foal."

I raised an eyebrow and chuckled bitterly. "Heh. Yeah, right." I took another drink of my wine.

Braeburn put both his hooves in front of him on the table, then leaned in. "I'm serious, Big Blue. The way you kept playing with Scootaloo back in Ponyville? She loved it. Don't know if I've ever seen a filly so happy to just be with somepony."

I shrugged and looked down, defaulting to my Wonderbolt interview voice. "Well, what can I say? We do anything to please a fan."

"Soarin'…" The sadness in his voice made me look up, and he was giving me droopy eyes. "I mean it. From where I was standin', she wasn't just some fan that wanted to meet somepony famous. She likes you. You. She likes you a lot, and you made her happy just by bein' around her, and you inspired her to do somethin' great, greater than she's thought she could before. That's all there is to it, I think. The important stuff, anyway. The rest is just diapers and food."

I looked back down at my meal. I couldn't say anything. I felt my cheeks flush, but I couldn't tell what I was feeling.

Braeburn let out a long sigh, and I heard him pull back his forehooves. We sat there that for a long moment, just breathing. I looked up, and Braeburn was staring out into the orchard with a neutral expression on his face, like he was tapping into some deep insight that only earth ponies knew how to find. "Do you want foals someday, Soarin'?"

I laughed. "Heh. Hell no."

He slowly turned his head towards me. "Why not?"

I gestured to myself with a hoof. "Dude, can you imagine me being responsible for a foal? I work all the time, I spend all my nights partying, and I do so much stupid shit that it's a miracle I haven't been completely axed and thrown in jail yet."

His head rolled to one side. "Those seem like reasons not to have foals right now. I mean, would you like to have them, you know, someday?"

It was my turn to look out into the forest. The trees stood there, unmoving, like they weren't really alive at all. I could barely tell them apart, and I wondered if any of them were related.

I sighed. "Braeburn…" I looked back at him. "I don't wanna do that to some kid."

Braeburn stuck out his lower lip. "What do you mean?"

I crossed my forelegs in front of me on the table. "I mean, like, what if I'm no good?" My heart felt like it was dropping out of my chest, but even if I couldn't look Braeburn in the eye while I was talking, I could at least tell him what I was feeling. I owed him that much. "Yeah, you said you learned from your parents, but that could be a bad thing, too, right? I mean, what if… what if I didn't love them enough? What if one day I just couldn't take the pressure anymore, and I just… left. I wouldn't put it past me, and that kid would be all kinds of fucked up. I know he would. And it would be my fault." I lowered my head a little more and put my forehooves on my temples. "Like… how could I be good father when I don't know what the hell I'm doing most of the time?"

"Because you learned from the best." My ears perked up, and I sat up straight. Braeburn was staring at me, frowning and unblinking. He radiated that calm feeling, and I felt like I couldn't look away. "Your daddy didn't know what the hell he was doing, either, Soarin'. He didn't plan on gettin' a divorce or havin' to raise you on his own, but he still pulled through and raised the greatest son a parent could ask for, somepony who makes him proud every day." He leaned in and tapped the table. "Every. Damn. Day. And not just because of his accomplishments, extensive as they might be, but because he's got a good heart. That's what you learned from him, Soarin'. Trust me, I've seen it."

My eyes burned, and I heard a slight ringing in my ears. The pang of loneliness and grief came back to my chest, and I started breathing more irregularly. I looked back down at my hooves. They seemed so small.

"What's his name, Soarin'?"

I looked back up, and my ears swiveled forward. All I could manage was, "Hm?"

Braeburn nodded and gently asked again. "Your father. You've told me so much about him, Soarin', but you never told me his name. What is it?"

I looked up into the blue. The sky was clear and nearly cloudless, and a moment of serenity washed over me. I tried to remember the last time I'd said his name out loud, and I realized that it…

Well, it was during my eulogy for him.

…

…

Sorry. Sorry, I-I just…

…

…

I think…

I think that's why I always just called him "Dad." It was more personal, like he was still there with me. His real name is something formal, something grown-ups used to refer to him and his "early passing." It was something they used to treat him like an object, not a pony, but at the same time, it was something sacred, something that I almost never used. At the funeral, I'd choked up and sputtered his name during my eulogy, and for years, I'd felt guilty about it, like I hadn't really honored his memory the right way. His name became this piece of him, this thing that I always clung to that I wouldn't let go. Like, I'd never really said it during the funeral, so it didn't count, right? He was still just Dad, and that meant he hadn't left me, not really. I didn't have to let go of the past as long as I didn't admit he was really gone.

But here was Braeburn. He was my future. He was the one that I'd sacrificed so much for just for the chance to be with. I didn't want to hide anything from him. I wanted to be able to share, to open up, like we had at Sweet Apple Acres. I was afraid, though. Afraid of what I'd lose if I let go of the past. Afraid that I'd somehow lose my dad's love if I moved on. But if I didn't, what would I lose instead? How could I really leave the pony that was right in front of me, just because I couldn't move forward?

…

Sometimes… you don't feel like you even need to make a choice. Sometimes, you get this moment of clarity, and it feels like the choice is already made, and you understand that the time is right, and all you have to do is let it happen. My head was still tilted back, a few tears ran down my face, and I said in a clear, direct voice:

"Skywise. Skywise Windsong."

Through blurred vision, I looked back down to Braeburn, whose face looked warm and inviting. No judgement. No fear. Just concern and understanding and… Slowly, he stood up from his chair, came around the table, and hugged me. "He's very proud, Soarin'."

"Yeah," I managed to mumble. I dried my face on his shoulder.

"And you know what?"

I paused and took a shuddering breath. "What?"

He rubbed my withers and held me close. "I think you'd make a great father."

…

Thanks, Braeburn.

We finished dinner, and Braeburn brought out the pie. It wasn't quite right. The flavor was a little off, and since the crust wasn't even, there were some parts that were a little underdone. It was still good, though, and Braeburn told me it was his favorite pie ever. I called him out on that, but he corrected me: even if it wasn't the best pie he'd ever eaten, it was still his favorite. I smiled and almost cried again, and suddenly, I knew I'd be making it again.

We brought everything back inside. It wasn't a chore, though. I felt… liberated. And lost. And untethered. It was a good feeling, I think.

Braeburn gently eased me out of my weird headspace. "We'll be bad and leave the dishes for tomorrow. There's one more place I wanna take you tonight."

I'd had a hunch, but it wasn't any less romantic when he led me out of the house, down the path, and to a nearby hill out by the barn. It wasn't too far into the orchard – just enough that we could lie down under a tree and see the sunset over the over the hills in the distance. We'd gotten there just in time for it to start.

We lay down next to each other, our sides pressed against one another and resting our heads together. Our bellies were full, and he felt warm next to me. We were still. The trees were still. The world turned slowly, and for once, I was glad that it was quiet, just me and my Applebutt, enjoying the sunset.

You only get so many of those moments. It's hard to appreciate them when they're happening, but they're some of the most valuable things you'll ever have. Everything's perfect, and you don't want to move, and you're afraid that you're going to break the magic or wake up or something, but you don't. It's real. You know it's real, because you can feel it in every piece of you, body, mind, and soul, where you can feel everything – everything – from the way the earth beneath you is a little warmer than the air, to the sound that the wind makes as it dances over each individual leaf, to the heartbeat of the pony right next to you.

It's real. It's real, and it's wonderful, and it only gets better.

I looked over at him. He looked back at me. We were lost in each other's eyes, and I felt a swelling in my chest as he put his hoof on mine. "Soarin', I…" His voice caught in his throat.

I smiled. "Say it, Braeburn. Please say it."

He chuckled. "You say it, Big Blue. I know you're feelin' it, too."

I bumped my nose into him. "No. I want you to say it first."

He bumped back. "Well, I want to hear it first."

I don't think what happened next was pure chance. I wasn't going to back down, but there was only one way to get what I wanted. I grinned. "Together on three?"

All too quickly, he grinned back, and he said in a low voice, "You got it. One…"

I knew I had him. "Two…"

We each took a breath, never breaking eye contact…

And…

"I'm getting you season passes." "I want to buck a few apples tonight."

Our mouths dropped open, turning into smiles of shock, our eyes wide in disbelief.

Braeburn smiled. "You asshole!" He playfully shoved me.

And I playfully shoved him back. "Hey! You did it, too!"

He bumped me again. "Only 'cuz I knew you were gonna do it!"

"Yeah?"

He growled, "Yeah, ya' varmint!"

"Ha! Varmint? That some kind of hick word for sexiest pony alive?"

He smiled and sneered. "I wouldn't expect a city pony to know a varmint from their own ass."

"Yeah? C'mere, you!"

"Gah! Ha-ha!"

I tackled him, and we rolled around under that tree, giggling and swearing and hugging and calling each other names and laughing and yelling and laughing some more, our bodies intertwined as we half-wrestled, half-hugged each other until we completely lost it, me on top of him, sneaking quick kisses between fits of laughter. A tingling feeling spread through my whole body, and it took a long, long time for it to subside. When it did, though, I looked down and saw that Braeburn was looking right at me. Slowly, he raised his hoof and gently stroked my face. We kept eye contact, neither of us blinking, as the sun shone its dying golden light on the two of us.

It was time. I could feel it. I held my breath as Braeburn drew in one of his own and said,

"I love you, Soarin'."

The whole universe was right in front of me. Everything. The sun, the moon, and the stars, the ladybugs and crickets and ponies and plants, the seas and the mountains, the valleys and the orchards, everything that would ever exist was right in front of me, all contained in a yellow stallion with strong legs, a beautiful mane, and a voice that would save my life. He was my universe, and my universe was perfect. Every star was aligned, every blade of grass pointing exactly where it was supposed to. Everything was connected, and everything was whole. That's what it felt like to hear those words. And yet, for the infinite things I felt, there was only one way to express them, a single way to sum up everything inside me, everything I was, and it was so, so simple:

"I love you, too, Braeburn."

We kissed. It was short, it was sweet, and it said everything.

And then we kissed again, saying everything all over. We held each other and kissed deeply and felt the love flow through every fiber of our beings, one soul in two bodies, together again at last. Everything was right. We were beyond everything, beyond paradise, somewhere meant just for us, where no one else could go, and we spent eternity in that moment.

And after a lifetime had passed, when we finally came back to Equestria, Braeburn looked at me again. "Are you happy, Soarin'?"

I brought his hoof to my lips and kissed it. "Of course I am, Braeburn. Today has been the best day of my life."

"I'm glad, Big Blue. I wanted it to be… special for you." His tone was off. It was heavy. Mellow. Sad.

I cocked my head to the side. "What's wrong?"

Braeburn hugged me to him, bringing my head down to his chest. "Today had to be perfect for you, Soarin'. I want you to cherish it. I want you to know how I feel about you, how good you really are, and how much you mean to me. Promise me, Soarin'. Promise me you'll remember it forever."

I couldn't begin to comprehend what he was saying, but I still felt safe. "Of course I will, Braeburn, but… why?"

"Because it's time for me to go home."

My perfect universe ripped in half.

I sat bolt upright, fear racing through my body and across my face as I stared down at the pony I loved.

My eyes stung. I was that little colt, watching his mother slam the door and not understanding what I'd done wrong.

My legs shook. I was that young stallion closing the casket, full of rage and unable to change anything.

My heart stopped. I was that Wonderbolt captain, lost and alone with no team to support him.

I was scared. I was hurt. I was angry, depressed, confused, and desperate.

Because Braeburn wanted to leave me.

Braeburn couldn't look at me, and I could only barely hear what he was saying.

"…about it for a long time. …"

My blood turned to ice.

"…and I talked to Big Mac, and…"

My ears rang.

"…don't even have a plan, and with all these reporters and your job and…"

He was saying all these things that didn't make sense.

"…long distance could work if we…"

These… words that tore everything apart, and I… I had to…

…

…

…

Four words.

Four words is all it takes to change the course of somepony's life. One moment of weakness, of attachment and panic before you're ready, is all that it takes. Four words can bring you to the highest and lowest you'll ever feel, and when everything falls into place, you can't stop yourself from saying just four short words.

"Come live with me."

Braeburn snapped to attention. "Wh… What?"

"Come live with me, Braeburn. With me. In Cloudsdale. Together." I was talking at a million miles an hour. "It'll be okay! I-I can work for both of us, and they have magic, so you can walk around, and it'll be safe!" I didn't know what I was saying, but I couldn't stop saying it. Everything hurt, like it was being ripped apart, and all I could do was flail around, trying and failing to hold it together. "There's plenty of older pegasi that need help, and they never have any accidents, so it's p-perfectly safe! And we have grocery stores! Good ones! So you can cook and we can do lots of fun things all the t-t-time together and it'll be great!"

I was shouting and sobbing, and I buried my face in Braeburn's chest again, clinging to him and squeezing him more tightly than I ever had before. "You'll b-b-be happy there, Braeburn, I promise! I-I'll do everything for you! I'll be better. I'll do whatever it takes."

I went on and on and on, promising Braeburn everything I could think of, but the tightness in my chest wouldn't go away. My heart pounded faster than at any Wonderbolts show, and I couldn't make myself let go of him.

"I love you, Braeburn," I sobbed. "I-I love you, more than anyp-pony in the world."

Braeburn wrapped his hooves around me. Quietly, he said, "I… I love you, too, Soarin'. More than you know."

I tried to stop crying, but the tears wouldn't stop. My voice was hoarse, and I whispered, "Then don't leave me, Braeburn. Please, Braeburn, please just… please don't leave me." I hid my face as much as I could. "Just please don't leave me."

Braeburn was quiet for a long time, and I kept shaking and sobbing into his chest.

The silence lasted for what seemed like hours, but when he finally spoke, he said, "Soarin', I'll… I'll do it."

I didn't believe it at first.

My body felt like it weighed too much, but when I finally managed to sit up and look at his face… I saw it. The big eyes, the gentle smile, the way he started stroking my face. I understood. He was sincere. The feeling started coming back to my body, first to my hooves, then spreading all the way to my heart. The heaviness disappeared, and all at once, the world seemed bright again.

Braeburn blinked away a few tears of his own and said, "Didja hear me, Big Blue? I said I'd coAAAHHMMMFFF!!!"

I didn't intend to grab him around his middle, launch the two of us into the air, and kiss him so deeply that I could taste his throat. It just kinda… happened. We soared up above the treetops in a tight spiral, leaving the earth behind, and I felt like I could fly forever. It was only Braeburn's panicked flailing that finally convinced me to break our kiss and actually remember that earth ponies miiiiight not like being that high up. "Uh… sorry," I said, blushing.

We floated gently back to the ground, and as Braeburn caught his breath, I flared out my wings, practically bouncing in place and nuzzling him at every opportunity. "It's going to be great, Braeburn, I promise! It's nice and private, and there aren't any reporters, and there's tons of stuff to do." I wrapped a wing around him and pulled him in close. "And I'm gonna give you everything, Braeburn. You'll love it."

Braeburn chuckled and shook his head. He panted and still looked a little dazed, but he soon looked up at me with bright eyes. "Yeah, Big Blue. Yeah. I… I think I will." He blew some air out of his lips. "Heh. Now, can we please settle down before I have a heart attack?"

My heart felt like it was on fire, more full of life than it ever had been, and silently, I thought, 'Anything for you, Braeburn. I'll do anything.'

We settled down onto the grass. I reclined against the tree, and Braeburn lay across me. The sun had nearly disappeared, but when he saw me squinting at the light, Braeburn took off his hat and put it on my head. As thanks, I gently pulled his head towards me and softly nibbled on his ears, just the way he liked it. His cheeks glowed, and his chest rumbled with approval.

With a quick nuzzle to the top of his head, I whispered, "I love you, Braeburn."

And he whispered back, "I love you, too."

And we were happy.

Chapter 30 - Logistics

* * * * *

We sit on a bench in that same park. It's mid-afternoon, and the soft breeze tickles our skin. I allow myself a sigh and a resigned smile. "Sounds like you had everything you wanted."

Soarin' smiles back. "I did." He's looking off into the distance, and the brim of Braeburn's hat is just barely keeping the sun out of his eyes. "That night really was perfect." He shakes his head, his teeth still visible. "Heh. Braeburn must have been so nervous about telling me he was leaving. I get it, though. He knew how hard I'd take it, and I think he wanted to keep me from suffering too much. He'd been planning on letting me down easy, when he knew he'd be there to catch me. I don't think I ever told him how much I appreciated it."

I nod. "It can't have been easy on him. He obviously cared a lot about your well-being, but that made it all the harder to tell the truth."

Soarin' is quiet for a moment. His ear flicks, and he closes his eyes to take in a deep breath of the cold, late-autumn air. His eyes open slowly, and he doesn't look my way. "Tell me about the book," he says in a very direct tone.

I wasn't expecting that, and I fight the urge to squint my eyes and cock my head to the side. I remain stoic.

Don't assume he's warming up to the idea, Syn. Just take what he's saying at face value and address his concerns. "Of course. What would you like to know?"

His lip curls, and his nose wrinkles, and his tone is harsh. "I don't know, just…" He flicks a hoof at nothing. "Walk me through it. What happens if I say it's okay?" He still won't look at me.

I look out at the park. Far off on the opposite end, about a dozen older pegasi have gathered for some kind of group exercise program, led by a young instructor with a giant smile plastered on his face. He moves fluidly, and the elderly ponies try their best to keep up. There's a strong correlation between how much they smile and how easily they can mimic the instructor's movements. I picture Soarin' trying to follow along. How much would he be smiling? How much does it hurt him to see what other ponies are still capable of, things that he, by all rights, should still be doing?

I silently wonder if he sneaks into the Wonderbolts shows.

Clearing my throat, I review the process in my head before speaking. "There'd be paperwork. Lots of it. I'll be honest, I've never published a memoir before, so I'd have to hire some legal counsel."

"Not that part," Soarin' interrupts. "With the story. What happens with it?"

"Apologies," I say. "There'd be more interviews, certainly. I'd take my, uh…" I glance at his bag. "…my notes from today and review them, then work on putting together the full narrative."

Soarin' raises an eyebrow at me. "Wait… I'm already doing that part, aren't I?"

"Yes," I say gently, "but I'll need to put it all together and figure out where the holes are. See where we need more detail. That sort of thing."

Soarin' smirks. "What, you don't think I can tell my own story the right way?" I can't tell if he's testing the waters or looking for an excuse to fire me.

Deep breath. "It's not that," I say. "But you might want to change a few things. Names of ponies or places at the Academy, for instance, in case you're concerned about legal ramifications." My fur bristles. "Or… how it might affect others."

Soarin' nods and looks at the other pegasi. "You mean how it would affect Braeburn." His body is still.

I nod. "Yes." I look at Soarin's profile.

He's staring at something I can't see, but actively so. His expression is mostly blank except for the furrowed eyebrows and the intermittent smiles. "Yeah," he says in a breathy tone. His features soften, and he breathes easily.

I clear my head and tell myself to listen closely. "You still love him, don't you?"

"Always," he says quietly and without hesitation. He smiles at that. Cautiously, he glances my way. "Did you look for him? Braeburn, I mean."

I roll my tongue around my mouth. Might as well be honest. "Yes and no. I checked with a few of my sources, and he's reportedly been in Appleloosa on and off for months. It sounds like he travels a lot, usually to visit Canterlot every month or so on official business, but he doesn't go out in public much." Soarin' looks relaxed. "It seems like he's finding success, though. Everypony I talk to says Appleloosa's doing well for itself. The tourism industry did well over the summer, and they're finally constructing a railroad that goes further south. As far as I can tell, none of those tycoons Braeburn was worried about have moved in on the place, or maybe he's kept them back if they've tried. At the very least, he's been pretty successful."

Soarin' chuckles. "Eh, I'm not surprised."

"But I figured he wouldn't want to see any more media ponies. Besides, I wanted to get your story."

Soarin' cocks his head back. "Why do you think that is? Why not his story? Doesn't his matter just as much as mine?"

I pause. Those… are good questions. I roll my head from side to side. "Instinct, I guess. You're the big story. You're the one the public knows the most about, and you're the one that had the accident. Sexier to sell the tragic hero, I guess."

Soarin' purses his lips. "Braeburn's story is more important. After all the shit he went through? He's a bigger hero than I've ever been."

"Maybe." I shake my head. It's unsurprising that Soarin' would think so, given their history. "I'm not going to pursue him, though. From everything you've said, it sounds like he's had enough. I won't try to force more out of him."

Soarin' smiles at me. "Thank you."

I smile back. "You're welcome."

The park is serene for a few minutes longer, but a few foals have been let out from school. They swarm the field and start a rules-free game of airball. If any of them recognize Soarin', they don't show it.

Soarin' clears his throat. "You were planning on a book the whole time, weren't you?" His voice is calm. Non-threatening.

I sigh. "Yeah. I was. And I'll be honest: I'd still like to publish one if you're up for it." I feel an itch on my back. "Are you up for it?"

Soarin' shakes his head slightly. "I dunno… I wouldn't… I wouldn't want anything to come out that would hurt Braeburn or make him miserable."

I tentatively offer, "Well, that's what the extra interviews would be for."

Soarin' looks right at me. "I'd get to read everything first, right?"

My mane stands on end. I bite my tongue and think, 'Would you even be able to?' But I answer, "Absolutely. You'd also probably want a second opinion or two." Nice. Very neutral. It's a touchy subject, but maybe I should just tell him I've figured him out.

Soarin' nods. "Yeah. Yeah, okay." His braces creak as he reaches back into his saddlebags and… huh. My notepad looks so foreign when he holds it like that, but the more I stare, the more my heart flutters. I feel a longing for it in my blood, and my head fills with visualizations of me putting pen to paper. These fantasies are both relieving and terribly unsatisfying at the same time. Soarin' holds it close to his chest and looks at me sternly. "This isn't a 'yes.' Iiiiiiit's… just more practical, I think."

I gulp. "You sure you're okay with it?" I want it. Badly. Desperately. But… at the same time, it might just be a distraction. I want to hear the rest of the story.

Soarin' smiles. "Yeah, I think so. Just don't be a jerk about it." He passes my notepad back to me.

I feel the weight on my hoof. It feels familiar and comfortable, like how I imagine wings or a horn must feel. I feel safer with it, and part of me wants to tear into it and scramble to remember every detail, jot it all down, but somehow, that doesn't seem so important right now. I sigh and put it back into my saddlebag.

"Huh," Soarin' mumbles.

I look up from my bag and cock an eyebrow. "Hm?"

He shakes his head. "I thought you'd, like, dramatically stand up and drop it through the clouds or something."

"Ha!" Felt that one in my belly. I've also thrown my head back. "No, no. I'm not some hack. Besides, the story's not about me. I don't need to draw that kind of attention."

He smirks and whines, "Aw, I was gonna throw myself onto the clouds and yell 'Don't do it!' too."

We share a short laugh, and I add, "Not this time. I'd hate for it to land on somepony."

"Yeah. Just my luck, some asshole writer would steal it."

I nod. "Better to leave it with the asshole that can't run away, right?"

"Right." He smiles. "You're going to put yourself in the story, though, right?"

I crinkle my face. "I don't know why I would. Everypony's going to want to read about you. You're the celebrity."

With a cringe, he says, "I don't want to be that guy, though. People get so wrapped up in the celebrities that they forget how many other ponies are affected by this stuff, too. That's why the media latches onto us. I mean, yeah, the media are assholes, but it's not just their fault, right? The readers are in on it, too. And I don't want my story to overshadow anypony else." He slumps a little. "It wouldn't be the first time. Just ask Fire Streak."

"I'll make a point to do that." Mental note: see if Fire Streak wants to do an interview after all this is over. "But why?"

Soarin' takes a moment. "Because it's not all about me. It's not just about what I went through and what I needed. Braeburn taught me that."

"Back in Appleloosa?"

Soarin' sits up straighter and nods. "Yeah, exactly. I'd realized he was a pony, too, that he needed and deserved more than to just be my own personal sex therapy. But I mean, look at everything else in my life." He gestures in a wide arc. "It wasn't just about realizing how important he was to me. I still hadn't learned to… you know, move on when…" He pauses. "…when things didn't turn out the way I wanted." He shakes his head and momentarily covers his face with a hoof. "I mean, Luna, I basically guilted him into staying with me." He sets his hoof down and looks at me with those tired eyes. "No, I still had a long way to go. There was still a lot I had to face."

My tail flicks behind me. "Well, talking about Skywise was a good first step."

At his father's name, Soarin' half-lids his eyes and smiles. "Yeah," he says in an airy tone. Slowly, he turns to me. "Talking helps."

I smirk. It's a nice opening, and I don't like seeing him depressed. I can't really tell if moving on with the story's going to help with that at all, but there's no point in delaying. "Should we… keep talking, then?"

"Sure," he says, standing up. "Let's go grab a snack though. There's a great falafel vendor a few blocks down. You hungry?"

I stand and shake out my mane. "A little." My back aches, so I stretch that out, too. "Do you want to come back here afterwards?"

"Nah. If I sit down much longer, I'll need a nap, especially if I'm full of falafel." His eyes open wide, and he laughs. "Heh heh. Full of falafel. Full of falafel!" he shouts. "Full-of-falafel-full-of-falafel-FULL-OF-FALAFEL-FULLA-LUH-LUH-LUH-LUH!!! AHAHA!!!" He laughs out loud, and I can't help but join him.

When we finish, he sighs and looks back to me. "Wait, what were you saying? Oh! Yeah. Right. Nah, I don't wanna come back here. Let's coast around the neighborhoods for a while. My therapist says I should get some flying in every day, anyway. Wouldn't want my wings to turn into these." He holds out an atrophied leg, and my hunger fades a touch.

Don't stare at his legs. "You got it."

We start walking. A colder wind has picked up, and my fur bristles. It'll be fine once we're walking. The park and the sounds of the foals fade behind us, and the open space gives way to suburbia as houses flank us on either side. They aren't as nice as the ones in the Estates, but none of them look to be in a state of disrepair. Then again, would I even know what a worn-out cloud building looks like? The streets are mostly empty except for a few more foals and the odd pony that flies high overhead, and the cloud crunches under my hooves while we walk and fly with each other in near silence.

I think about Soarin'. I wonder if he's happy. I hope so.

Soarin', flapping gently next to me asks, "So… Should I keep going? There's still some big things left."

I snap back to the moment. "Hm? Oh! Yes, please."

He smiles, says, "Okay," and turns back to the street. "We stayed at Honeycrisp's over the weekend. Life was easy, and Braeburn and I spent most of our time doing chores and cooking and telling each other we loved each other. We never got sick of hearing it. And it happened again, that same thing that had happened when I'd met Big Mac. I thought about moving to a farm with Braeburn, someplace far away from everything, where we could be happy together. It was a nice daydream, and knowing he really loved me made it seem so much closer."

Soarin' flaps his wings a little harder, and I pick up my pace a bit.

He continues. "Honeycrisp arranged a carriage for us to the Manehattan Hot Air Balloon Launch, and on Monday morning, we left for Cloudsdale."

I look up and to the left, away from Soarin'. Getting used to these magic horseshoes was difficult enough for me, and Braeburn doesn't strike me as the worldliest pony. "Did Braeburn transition smoothly?"

"Heh heh." Soarin' casts a sidelong glance at me, accompanied by a smirk. "Weeeeell, not exactly."

* * * * *

Chapter 31 - Inside

Braeburn's legs shook, and his lips quivered. "This ain't right. This ain't right!"

"C'mooooon," I teased from the air beside him. "We're barely off the ground."

Braeburn stood on a raised platform about three meters high. It was sturdy and made of dark wood, and it jutted out like a diving board. Under it was a puffy cloud about the size of a double-wide train car, and under that was a deep pool of water. The whole thing was in the middle of a grassy, fenced off area in the middle of a large plain that was dotted with big stretches of fabric: the Aero Tours balloon launch in the rural outskirts of Manehattan. The breeze softly blew hints of the stale city to our noses, but the air was mostly fresh, and the sun was bright and warm on our backs. On Braeburn's hooves, four brand-new horseshoes glowed a faint silver. He fidgeted at the edge of the platform, keeping his eyes on the cloud that was just a half a step below him.

I landed on the cloud and jumped on it a few times. "See? Nothing to worry about."

Braeburn frowned. "Maybe not for you. You don't need fancy metal doohickeys to keep you from fallin' right through that thing." He crouched down and shrunk. "I don't want another broken leg, Soarin'."

Our guide, a bouncy, buttercream-colored earth pony stallion named Dizzy Heights, stood on the ground at the edge of the pool of water. His puffy, off-white mane was almost completely covered by his aviator's cap, goggles, and scarf that all looked like they were more for fashion than for function, but hey, if you're living the dream, why not look the part, right? "Aw, you've got nothing to worry about, Mr. Braeburn. These shoes are completely safe. I use them myself, and in ten years of giving ponies tours, I've never seen even one of them fail."

"Wh… W-What happens if they do fail?" Braeburn whimpered as his eyes widened and his face turned white.

Dizzy Heights gave him a calm, reassuring smile. "That's why they have the extra safety enchantments. We'll test those next. For now, just tell yourself to breathe, and try stepping onto the cloud."

Braeburn looked at me with pleading eyes.

I smiled at him. "Don't worry, Applebutt. I'll catch you."

Slowly, Braeburn searched my face, then smiled back. "Okay, Big Blue." With a deep breath, he stood up straight and closed his eyes. His jaw quivered, but he stood firm, and even though I could see the hints of about thirty flavors of fear race across his face, I knew he could do it. He held a hoof out in front of him, leaned forward…

…and screamed as I jumped into the air, dashed behind him, and plucked him up right before he hit the cloud. "GAH!" I'd only lifted him half a meter, but he squirmed like I was a hawk picking off a mouse. "What the hell, Soarin'?"

Calmly, I nuzzled his head and said, "Whaaaat? I said I'd catch you."

After a couple seconds, Braeburn stopped squirming and relaxed in my forelegs. I could feel his breathing slow down, and it had a calming effect on me, too. Bodies are weird. And nice. His body's nice. "You're lucky you're cute, Big Blue," he said, nuzzling me back. I kept us up there so I could enjoy feeling him. "You, uh… you can let me go now."

I pretended to think about it. "Mmm… Sorry, Applebutt. Not gonna happen." A quick squeeze. "I like you too much."

He laughed and said, "Soarin', I'm serious. We're just gonna get hurt like this." He started wiggling. "I'll be okay. You can – hrng! – let me go."

I smiled wickedly, said, "Nah," and beat my wings just a little harder. We started rising up.

Braeburn struggled more. I could feel him tense up again, and part of me wanted to give in, but I just couldn't stop myself. "Soarin'! Please!"

That fear in his voice did get to me, though, and I felt a pang in my heart. I… didn't want him to know how hard it was for me, though, so I rolled my eyes and sarcastically said, "Weeeeeell, if you really wa–"

He wiggled free.

My heart stopped. "Dammit!" My wings flailed, and I jerked my head down to see Braeburn slip out of my hooves. My legs stretched out to reach him, but there was no getting him back. He glanced back up at me with sad, scared eyes, and I braced myself for the impact.

…which was really just a tiny puff of white. He'd only fallen about half a meter, after all.

Still, I felt heavy, and I lowered my head as I fluttered down to the cloud. "Sorry, Braeb–"

"Now, I told you!" he spat, jumping to his hooves. "Why didn't you just…. Ugh." He sighed. "Ya' gotta work on that, okay Big Blue?"

I looked up. "I will, Braeburn. I… don't really know why I did that." Maybe part of me knew it deep down, but I wasn't ready to think about it yet. The only thing that came to mind was, "I just… I really like holding you, you know?" It was the only way I could think of to describe it.

Braeburn's voice was a little softer. "Well, I like holdin' you, too, but–"

"I mean it," I said, looking at him directly. "Like, I just want to be next to you all the time. It's not like anypony I've been with. I like touching you and feeling you and being close to you and… and it kinda drives me nuts, I guess." I shrugged. "You make me happy, and I want you to be happy, and I get excited, and that makes me act stupid. Does… that make sense?"

Braeburn paused and gave me a small smile. "Yeah. It does." He walked to me, sat down, and hugged me. "I get it. Don't fret, Big Blue. I get it."

I hugged back. "Thanks, Applebutt." My voice turned shaky and quick. "I'm really sorry, though. Can I make it better? I-I want to make it better!"

"Well," he said, sighing and squeezing me more tightly. "You could start by tellin' me what cloud tastes like."

"What do you–"

POMPF!

"…dammit," I mumbled through a mouthful of cloud.

In case you're curious: it tastes like bland ice cream and dried mud.

"Aaahahaha!" Braeburn roared, falling onto his back and wiping a tear from his eye. "A-ha! Ha! Whew!"

I popped my head out of the cloud and half-smiled, half-growled at him. "Oh, you're bucking done!"

I tackled him, and we rolled around on the cool cloud, tickling and wrestling and laughing. He rolled on top of me, but then I jammed a hoof into his sides, and he collapsed, giving me a chance to get back on top. But then he just lifted me up with those sexy, strong, sexy, sexy hind legs of his, and we started all over again. I think Dizzy said something from the ground, but he was laughing along with us, too. We kept going until we tumbled off the cloud, and as soon as we started falling, Braeburn's horseshoes lit up. We heard a quick FWOOMP sound as a magical bubble formed around us, and, with our legs still intertwined, we laughed as we slowly floated down to the ground next to Dizzy. The bubble disappeared.

Dizzy spoke up once we'd calmed down and untangled ourselves. "See? Perfectly safe, no matter how much you try to give me a heart attack," he said, patting his chest twice.

We stood up on the grass, and I looked at Braeburn with a goofy, love-drunk look on my face. "So, feel safe yet?"

He smiled and rubbed his head under my chin. "Yeah, I do."

Dizzy was pretty quick. He gathered all our bags in one place, and an assistant helped him bring it all across the large, open field to the hot air balloon launch. We followed him until the big balloon was swelling in front of us, huge and imposing, made of a heavy nylon fabric and colored bright red with a single blue stripe and "Aero Tours" in big, blocky lettering. The basket looked like it was wicker, but much heavier, and several other balloons were scattered in the field around us. Most were rolled up, but a few were partially inflated. Dizzy trotted up to our balloon with a bounce in his step and his head held high.

Braeburn's jaw hung open as he took it all in. "You never run out of surprises, do you, Big Blue?"

"Nnnnnope!" I said in my Big Mac voice.

Braeburn laughed. "It, uh… It looks mighty wobbly in that basket, though…"

Dizzy overheard him. "Don't worry, Mr. Braeburn! It's weighted pretty heavily to keep it from swaying too much in the wind. I promise I'll deliver you both safely." As we arrived at the basket and climbed inside, he turned to me. "It might be tempting, Mr. Soarin', but please don't try any takeoffs from the basket. I'll warn you, it'll be slow going compared to what you're used to, but it's safer for all of us if you stay inside." He winked at me. "Plus, I've still got your deposit."

I looked over at Braeburn, who was rapidly tapping his hooves on the edges of the basket and humming to himself. His tail twitched a little, and his ears flicked, and he nodded his head along with whatever he was humming. Yeah, he was nervous, but I couldn't wait to see his reaction once we were in the air. He was going to have a great ride, and I got to be there with him during his first flight.

Dizzy went over a few more safety instructions, and Braeburn asked one more time if I wanted shoes of my own. I didn't, and soon, we were ready for takeoff.

Dizzy fired up the red gem that lifted the balloon, and a few other workers started undoing the anchor ropes. From inside the small basket, I wrapped my wing around Braeburn's back. His face looked a little pale, and I asked, "You okay, Applebutt?"

He smiled and shook his head as he let out a shuddering breath. "Uh-huh. Just a little scary leavin' everything behind and all, and the height certainly won't help."

I hugged him closer and said, as cheerfully as I could, "It'll be great! There's tons of stuff to do in Cloudsdale, and the air's always clean, and the rest of the 'Bolts are going to love you just as much as I do." I kissed his cheek. "Aaaaand if they give you any trouble, they're fired." Braeburn laughed, and I finished with, "You're gonna feel right at home. I promise."

"Once we clean up your parlor, you mean," he said with a nudge.

My face scrunched up, and I remembered that my parlor was still mostly trashed from my… little episode after I'd been cut. "Weeeeell, it's–" I looked away. "There's just a few piles, and…" My face felt hot.

Braeburn cuddled me. "How 'bout we cross that bridge when we come to it?"

"Deal," I said, stroking his back with my wing.

Dizzy rubbed the gem again and asked, "You both ready?" We nodded, and he gave the signal to the assistant, who was standing next to our last tether to the ground. "All right, then. Hold on, because here we go!"

With a small jerk, the balloon lifted into the air, and Braeburn squeaked from the sudden movement. The takeoff was rougher that I was used to, so I could only imagine what it was like for him. He didn't start cowering, though. Instead, he perked up, opened his eyes wide, and shouted, "Hoo-wee! I… wow!" He kept his eyes locked onto the ground as we drifted further upwards, craning his neck as it all sunk away. "Would ya'… wow," he said breathlessly.

I bumped his cheek with my nose. "There's more than just grass, Brae."

He looked up, and his jaw dropped. "Oh my stars!" We had a beautiful view of the horizon, even though we were only about fifty meters up. Manehattan was off to our left, and we could see further and further the more we ascended. After just a few more seconds, we could make out Honeycrisp's orchard in the late morning sun, and once we'd gotten up higher, I pointed out the lake we'd been at for our date. More and more came into view, from a train heading back east to a small farming town to the ocean past Manehattan. It was a clear, beautiful day without much wind, and Braeburn cuddled into me more.

I liked that feeling. Braeburn's skin was warm on mine, protecting my side from the cool air, and he snuggled close, taking in everything that he could. He trusted me. He wasn't looking away or hiding, even though part of him had to be terrified. He wanted to be next to me, which is right where I wanted him, too. We trusted each other, and I wish that feeling could have lasted forever.

I looked over my shoulder and saw Dizzy beaming at us. When he saw me looking, he shook his head and softly said to himself, "I love my job."

Dizzy and I chatted, and I split my attention between our conversation and Braeburn, who was drinking in the scenery. He looked like a colt that had just been given his own personal swimming pool full of ice cream. Part of me wanted to badger him about what he was feeling and thinking, but I remembered back to my own first flight. It's a special moment, one you have to process for yourself, and I wanted Braeburn to have that moment, too. Dizzy certainly didn't need to worry about me flying out of the basket, though. I was perfectly content watching Braeburn experience that first big rush.

We made it to the Cloudsdale landing without any trouble. Probably the same one you used, actually, the one north of the city. It's not like a train station or anything else, since there's not enough traffic for that. Plus, you know, balloons need a lot of space, so there's not much there but an office and a small building that sells vacation upgrades and souvenirs and stuff. There's also a sky taxi service, which amounted to three carts with bored-looking pegasi hitched up to them.

Dizzy brought us in for a perfect landing, and a few pegasus technicians quickly secured the balloon in place with giant ropes once we'd stopped. He looked over his shoulder at us. "So, have fun?"

Braeburn grinned from ear to ear. His eyes were bright, and his tail thrashed rapidly behind him. He squeaked.

Dizzy chuckled. "Yeah, I thought so. Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Braeburn, and you, too, Mr. Soarin'."

Braeburn finally snapped out of his daze and rubbed up against me. "I just… I– wow. Thanks, Big Blue. Gonna remember that forever."

I rubbed back. "Me, too, Applebutt."

I fluttered out of the basket and onto the wide open cloud, and then I looked back at Braeburn. He was hesitating, so I asked, "Need me to catch you again?"

He smiled and hopped out of the basket. I saw the panic flash across his face as his hoof sank just a tiny bit, but he let out a big breath once he was sure he wasn't falling. He stomped on the cloud a few times and nodded to himself. "I think I'll be okay."

We thanked Dizzy, and I let him keep the deposit for a tip. He was super appreciative.

We grabbed our bags, hired a sky taxi, and got in. The taxis are modeled after the chariots that the princesses use, but obviously the company's are a lot more basic. They're made of well-crafted clouds, decorated with curvy designs and a little Magi-mist coloration to show off the company colors (Aero Tours' red and blue again). They've also got rope harnesses inside and a wooden hitch for the driver, and they've even got these, like, little divots at the front that I think you're supposed to put your sunglasses in or something, but they're way too small to be practical. The driver was a burly, red pegasus stallion. He was pretty quiet, and his ass was just kinda meh, but at least he was understanding when we told him to take the long route back to the Estates.

The ride back to my place was pretty chill. We flew low, both because most pegasi don't fly at that level and because Braeburn didn't want to risk getting too high up. I mean, even at the speed and height we were at, a crash would have sucked, but I didn't want to worry him. Instead, I pointed out some of the sights to Braeburn as we flew over them, and our driver was great about slowing down after I told him we weren't in a hurry. We flew by the weather factory, the school I went to as a kid, and even the hill where Dad and I went stargazing that one time.

"Jeez," Braeburn said loudly over the wind as his tail whipped behind him. He held tightly onto his hat. "It's gonna take me a lifetime to see all these places, Soar!"

"What do you mean?" I said back in a loud, clear voice.

"Well, this is where you grew up! You got to see my parents' farm and my room and my, uh…" He blushed. "…special drawings. I wanna see all the little bits of your life, too!"

I heart fluttered, and I said back to him, a little louder, "Awesome! I'm gonna show you everything! You'll love it, Applebutt."

We avoided downtown Cloudsdale, which was a shame, since there's so many cool clubs and buildings there, but that would have absolutely drawn more attention than we wanted.

About ten minutes later, we started our descent to the outside of the Estates, and I started bobbing my head and rocking back and forth as the reality hit me. My throat felt tight, and lips felt dry.

Braeburn saw me rocking slightly. "You nervous?" he asked.

I nodded. "Eh, a little."

"More than a little?" He bumped his flank into mine.

"Well, yeah. I mean, you're going to be living here, right? I want it to be perfect for you, but I don't really even know how to make you comfortable. Plus, I suck at decorating. It's pretty bare."

He smiled at me. "It'll be fine, Big Blue. We'll make it our own. And hey, it'll give me somethin' to do, especially if there's not much that needs cleanin'."

My face scrunched up, "Weeeeell…" I looked away.

"Heh heh. Besides the parlor, right?"

His smile and a nudge relaxed me. I didn't even want to think about the piles of broken furniture that still littered the place, but he was ready to tackle it head-on. It's a small thing, but remembering his attitude that day has helped me a lot, especially with the physical therapy. "Right," I said with a sigh.

I was still breathing a little heavily when the driver dropped us off at the security checkpoint by the edge of the Estates. Officer Safe Haven was working that day, so checking in and letting him know about Braeburn didn't take long. He warned us, though, that a bunch of paparazzi had been hanging out lately and that security had to chase a few off. Eight or nine were apparently still drifting around the border of the property. Freaking vultures.

Braeburn asked, "You really need all this security?"

"Kinda," I said as I nodded at Safe Haven and he motioned for us to pass. "A bunch of celebrities and rich pegasi live here, and we'd be swarmed with media ponies if we didn't have some security here all the time."

His voice got smaller as we stepped onto the grounds. "They, uh, ever come in anyway?"

I cuddled him. "We'll be okay, Applebutt. They'll probably line up outside the border and hover overhead once they figure out we're back in Cloudsdale, but they'll go away once they realize there's no real story here. Something else will come up and grab their attention, and they'll forget about us in a week, tops."

They didn't.

Braeburn just cuddled back. "If you say so, Big Blue."

It was a short walk from the security checkpoint to the front door of my place: all we had to do was walk down the road, take the first right, and we were there, standing in front of my modest condo. I hadn't bothered to color the outside, so it shone a blinding white in the sun. The yard was big enough to play badminton in, but not much bigger, and the building's frame and big windows looked just like all the others on that block. Back then, I also had a doormat that was worn-out and said something stupid like "Nice junk! Wanna put it to good use?" or something. I dunno. Streak had gotten it for me as a joke gift. My door was right in front of us, and I got my key out of my bag.

But then, I hesitated.

"You're blushin'," Braeburn said with a smirk.

I stared at the door and blew air out of my lips. "Iiiiit's pretty bad," I mumbled.

"Well, we can't fix it unless you let me in, can we?"

I paused. I'd been thinking for weeks about Braeburn being in my house. But now, it was real. A lot of expectations had built up since that night at Honeycrisp's, and they all bubbled up in my chest while he waited outside. I was ready, though. I told myself that Braeburn was different. He wasn't going to leave me, not like Mom or Dad or the 'Bolts. He'd chosen to stay, and that made it okay. I could let him inside.

Straightening my back, I unlocked the door for us. "Aaaaafter you!" I said it with a big, sweeping gesture and a bow. I think I did a pretty good job covering up my nerves.

Braeburn held his head high. "Thank you kindly." He marched inside, and I followed behind him, shutting the door and dropping my bags onto the floor. They didn't fall through, obviously – my condo was up to code with all the required enchantments – and I kept my eyes trained on Braeburn, holding my breath to see how he'd react.

And he reacted with Western grace. He walked slowly into the entry hall, looking at the pictures in the doorway and how the doors and ceiling were laid out. He would nod or shake his head at some little detail that I hadn't noticed in years, like the picture I'd taken with Spitfire after my first show or the way my coat rack had way too many hooks. His shoulders were up, and he radiated a kind of excited energy. It was different from the balloon ride: this one was more comfortable, like the kind you feel on the first day of a summer camp you've gone to every year for your whole life. I liked it.

Braeburn did, too. He looked over his shoulder and said, "Sorry, you're probably waitin' for…" He cleared his throat, put on a big goofy smile, then rolled his head around and said with a comically bombastic Western tone, "Whoa Nelly it's a fine place you got here." He tipped his hat, then swung his foreleg in front of him. "Why, I could see makin' like a rattler in a boot and stayin' a while!" He narrowed his eyes at me and smirked. "That better?"

I couldn't keep myself from giggling. I walked up to him and drug my body against his. "I like you."

He rubbed back. "I like you, too." He caught sight of the kitchen. "Oh, hey! I suppose this is where I'll be spendin' most of my time." He dropped his bags against the hallway wall and walked in.

Braeburn started exploring, poking his head all around and just trying to feel it out. He was like a dog in a new park: he wanted to sniff everything and understand it all, from the medium-sized wooden table to the new-ish stove. He pulled out a few of the cloud drawers, ran a hoof along the countertop, and, eventually, looked in the fridge. "Hoo!" His hoof flew to his nose. "I suppose you didn't clean this out before you left."

It honestly didn't smell too different from usual, but yeah, it was pretty rank.

Braeburn quickly shut it and asked, "Got any baking soda? That'll help, at least."

I blinked.

He smiled. "It'll probably be with your spices. Heck, even if it's old, might do some good. Maybe we could even add some cinnamon or cardamom to cover it up in the short term. Where do you keep your baking supplies?"

I blinked.

Braeburn threw his head back. "Ha! Least I know how I can start earnin' my keep." He trotted over to the hallway and got some paper and a quill from his bag and then brought them to the kitchen table. "All right, so that's baking soda, a heap of herbs, some spices… Hey, you think they have fresh herbs at the… Never mind. Dried probably does fine to start with. Heh heh. Can't tell you how many times that stuff's saved my ass. Just a dash of cumin if your food's got nothin' goin' for it." He wrote things down furiously and spoke even faster. "Let's see, milk, eggs, apples of course, maybe some grains. I'll need to make a full list once I've been through everything. Shoot, don't even know where the grocer is. Ah well, I'll try to throw somethin' together for tonight. Maybe fry up some hay? Wonder where I'd get some hay?"

I walked up to the table, but even as I squinted, I couldn't read anything he'd written down. "Brae, you don't have to–"

"Oh, hush," he said, tapping me on the nose. He set his quill down and reached for my hoof. "It's the least I can do. Besides, I want to, Soarin'. You deserve a good meal every night. I'm almost afraid to ask, but what do you usually eat?"

With a shrug, I said, "I fill up on protein gruel at the Academy, then usually have fruit and, like, alfalfa or oats for dinner."

He looked like I'd kicked his puppy. "Poor thing. Small miracle you ain't fallin' out of the sky. You could use somethin' heartier. Course, I won't presume to be your nutritionist. Hate to make you too fat to fly. Ha!" He looked around and blushed. "Though, uh… Admittedly, it won't be like at Auntie Crisp's, least not right away. New kitchen and all. Might, uh, might actually need to rain check tonight. I'm not even sure what tools you have up here."

I smiled warmly. "No problem, Applebutt."

"Mind if I keep pokin' around? Kinda excitin' bein' in such a new kitchen, especially with all the counter space in here."

"Go ahead, babe."

My face just kind of melted into a permanent smile, and my heart felt warm. I sat at the kitchen table and just watched him dig through drawers and open cabinets. I hadn't known how he'd like my place (or even if he'd want to stay), but there he was, just exploring and examining and planning like he was already at home. He exuded that same aura again, the one that comes with a calm voice and comfortable breathing that you can't help but lose yourself in.

But it never lasts long enough. Braeburn's voice suddenly went stiff as he said, "Mighty, uh, mighty fine selection you got here. Uh…" I snapped back to the present and saw Braeburn standing with his hoof still on the cabinet handle. He was staring into my liquor cabinet, the one that was fully loaded with vodkas, rums, wines, scotches, and whiskeys, all of it top-shelf. "You certainly have the good stuff."

I blushed. "Uh… yeah. Is… that okay?"

Braeburn paused, then shook out his mane "Uh, sure!" He quickly shut the door and turned around, then sat down and started writing down more ingredients. "Could probably use a nicer mixing bowl and some spatulas," he mumbled.

I scooted closer. "You okay, Applebutt?"

He waved me away. His voice was stilted. "Aw, it's fine." There was a pause. His ear flicked, and he looked up to me, then slowed down. "I promise, Big Blue. Like you said, if I ain't happy, I'll tell you. It'll be fine. Don't you worry about me." He leaned over and kissed me.

I kissed back, but my wings drooped. "I-I can get rid–"

"It's fine, Big Blue. I promise. No need to get rid of it all for my sake. Heck, wouldn't be proper to waste so much high-quality liquor. I'll be fine." He nuzzled me again. "Besides, if you wanna clean up so much, I know where we can start." He jerked his head towards the parlor and stood up.

If I hadn't been so worried about the parlor, maybe I would have realized how desperate he was to change the subject.

I jumped up and dashed over to stand between him and the room. "Okay, Braeburn, before you go in, I…" I saw his face. He was gentle, and he was smiling.

It hurt to think I was about to disappoint him. That room was still so chaotic, so disorganized, and as we stood there, I had flashbacks to the incident, to the moment I'd realized how truly alone I was. I didn't want to think about it. The anger. The pain. Trashing everything. Feeling my uniform burn as it rested on my body until I had to throw it off of me. I couldn't even look inside.

But Braeburn's face… He looked so kind. He didn't try to force his way past me or tease me. He just… knew how hard this was for me, and he was willing to wait.

And I felt my shoulders relax, and I let him inside.

Braeburn walked as easily into the parlor as he had around his own house. I focused on him as he slowly meandered into the center of the room and saw everything: the cracked lamp, the busted chair, the ruined art, the bookcase, and the broken couch with my inside-out uniform still bunched up in the middle. I flinched when I saw it all, but Braeburn was steadfast, and what he said surprised me. "This ain't so bad."

I was convinced he was wrong. The panic and the tension flooded back to my muscles, and I thought, 'Can't he see how messed up it is? Everything's broken! It's gone. Trashed. Ruined.' I screwed my eyes shut, but again, he waited, and when I looked up again, he was still there, still exuding that aura.

He smiled. "It's tough to face, ain't it?"

I stepped inside and admitted, "Yeah, it is." Piles of salvageable pieces and trash were still there from when I'd tried to fix it myself, but it still looked awful. There were still splinters and jagged edges and broken pieces everywhere, and my uniform still lay on the couch inside-out, crumpled, and sagging. It felt dangerous to even be in there, like we could get hurt even just trying to find all the things wrong with it. "I don't even know where to start."

Braeburn saw me staring at my uniform. Casually, he walked up to the couch and picked up my uniform. With deft hooves, he turned it right side out, folded it, and creased it nicely. He looked back at me and smiled. "We already have."

It's amazing how much difference a small change can make.

Braeburn turned and started picking up the splinters, and when I told him he didn't have to, he told me he wanted to. He wanted to be there for me, no matter how much of a mess I'd made. "We're going to fix it together."

It was so much easier with Braeburn there. He didn't even take a break to put his own stuff away. He collected all the splinters, assessed the rest of the damage, and even though he said it would take a lot of time, he told me he could fix it all. I believed him, and even though that room had been a giant hole in the center of my house for so many weeks, I finally felt like it wasn't so empty anymore.

While he worked on the little pieces, I ironed my shirt, and Braeburn was impressed with how crisp I got it. He said he never could have gotten it that smooth, especially with the shoulder tabs. "Wouldn't even know what to do with those." My chest swelled.

By the time we were done with the first pass, we had a bag of garbage at the back door. I finally gave Braeburn the rest of the tour: the main level rooms, the closets, upstairs to the bathroom, the guest bedroom, the office… He loved it all, especially our bedroom.

Braeburn marveled as he walked into it. "Really feels like it melts out into the sky." It was true. That's how I liked it, after: an extension of the sky that made me feel free, and I was relieved he liked it, too. Besides the blue door, there wasn't much decoration at all: just the king-sized bed, the end tables, and the dresser with the bobbleheads and the camera and the, uh…

…

Oh, and the mirrored closets, the ones that I could just stare into and feel like I was flying. He really liked those.

Braeburn looked back at the bed, then at me. His eyes darted back and forth between it and me, and a smile slowly curled across his face. "So," he said, rocking back and forth on his hooves. "Not many earth ponies get to experience that good ol' southern comfort on a cloud." He lowered his voice, stuck out a pouting lip, and looked up and to the side. "I mean… I certainly haven't." He smirked at me, narrowed his eyes, and spoke very, very slowly. "At least, not yet."

We fixed that. We fixed that right away.

Braeburn loved it. He said that the cool, soft cushion of my cloud mattress made his skin tingle, and the way I hold him without putting pressure on his back made him feel safe. While we were at it, he said he felt like he was truly weightless.

We cuddled for a few minutes, hot and sweaty on the cool mattress. The room was peaceful. Quiet. And that was okay. My Applebutt was with me, and everything was okay. We clung together in each other's forelegs for about twenty minutes until I had to use the bathroom. I got up, and Braeburn sat up with me, looking around as I left the room. I left just as he was sighing with contentment. It was better than okay. It was perfect.

It amazed me how easily things were falling into place. Braeburn was home with me. He was comfortable. We'd gotten to my condo without getting caught. We were getting a moment of privacy, which is more than we could have hoped for, and everything felt right.

But… when I came back, I…

* * * * *

Soarin' glides to the ground and walks next to me. His shoulders slump, and his wings droop, and his pace slows.

* * * * *

When I came back, I seized up at what I saw. Braeburn wasn't on the bed. He was sitting in front of my dresser holding a dusty picture.

That picture.

The one that I couldn't throw out but always kept face down, because I couldn't stand looking at it.

Braeburn looked at me. He was frowning, and it wasn't hard to figure out why. "I'm sorry for snooping, Soarin'," he said quietly. "I-I… There was all this dust on the back, and I didn't…" He hung his head low, still holding the frame.

Instinct kicked in, and for a second, I was more worried about him than the photo. Love's a powerful thing, isn't it?

I walked over, threw a wing around him and hugged him close to me. We looked at the photo together.

It hadn't changed since the last time I'd seen it, which must have been when I'd moved into my condo years before. It still showed three ponies. Three smiling, hugging ponies. A stallion, a mare, and a colt, all slightly different shades of light blue. It was Hearth's Warming Eve, and even though the ponies took up most of the frame, a few decorations and unwrapped boxes peeked around them from the background. The colt had his mother's blue mane and his father's green eyes. He wore his brand-new airball helmet and pads, smiling a bright, open-mouthed smile while his mother, a thin, beautiful mare, held him to her chest, barely able to get him to sit still. Her coat was the lightest – a powder blue, almost white – and her midnight blue mane was carefully styled and had a minty green streak in it. The stallion, big and stocky with a cerulean coat and a short-cropped silver mane, had one foreleg around his wife, and the two grown-ups rested their heads against one another. The scene was warm, and above everything else, the three ponies looked happy. Serene. Full of joy and excitement and humble gratitude for all the things they had and for all the things still ahead.

I felt myself frowning, and my heart felt heavy. My wing loosened around Braeburn's back, and the scene was suddenly blurry.

Braeburn nuzzled me under my chin and gently broke the silence. "Last Hearth's Warming together?"

"Yeah," I said in a choked whisper. I swallowed and said, a little louder, "She, uh… left about four months later. I think stuff was al–" I cleared my throat and gave myself a second. "Stuff was already falling apart by then, but, like…"

When I didn't continue, Braeburn motioned with his head towards the bed. We walked over to it and lay down together, half sitting up against the headboard. I set my head on his chest, and he wrapped a foreleg around me, still holding the picture where we could both see it. I cuddled into his chest. He stroked my back, right near the joints of my wings.

There was this little ball of feelings in my chest. It was dark. It was tangled. I didn't want to think about it, but as long as that picture was in front of me, I couldn't push it back down and out of the way like I was used to doing.

Braeburn petted me more. He didn't rush me.

There were a lot of things I wanted to say. Lots that I tried to say, but nothing came out. Braeburn sensed it. He must have. "It's okay, Soarin'."

That voice of his. My eyes closed, and my heart opened. "Mom and Dad had already started arguing before Hearth's Warming season. The holiday stress didn't help, especially since my grandma Heaven Drop had passed away just beforehand. You would have liked her. She was from the country and taught me how to make green popcorn balls once, and she was always interested in what I was learning and how my new toys worked, and she always talked about how smart I was getting. She was nice…"

I realized I was getting side-tracked. "But… yeah. Things weren't going well. Mom and Dad tried to hide it for a while, but that autumn, something started happening, over and over. I'd be playing and they'd be talking about something I wasn't paying attention to, but then, it would change. Something about their tone would shift, slowly at first, and then more obviously. If one of them was holding me or petting me, they'd set me down or stop touching me altogether. The air would seem stale all of a sudden, and I'd get this weird, gnarled feeling in my chest, the same thing I got whenever I did something wrong. Then one of them, usually Mom, would say they should 'speak about this privately.' They'd disappear behind that stupid green door of theirs, and I wouldn't want to play anymore. I'd just sit there, waiting for them. Sometimes I couldn't hear anything, and sometimes I'd hear shouting, and it was the worst to hear the shouting and then the nothing. Then they'd come out, not speaking to each other, and Mom would go downstairs. Dad would come back and try to play with me, but his smile always looked broken."

Braeburn stopped petting me for just long enough to squeeze me, just long enough to let me know he was still there.

"They spent more time apart, and soon it seemed like we didn't have dinner as a family anymore. Mom would say she had more holiday shopping to do and come back with nothing, and Dad would go out with his friends after work and not come back until late at night. They both worked at the weather factory – that's where they'd met – but they stopped leaving the house together around the time that autumn changed to winter. Being at home wasn't as comfortable, and I started refusing to go home after school was done. They just… didn't feel like the same parents anymore."

Another squeeze.

I ran a hoof across my face and stretched out the baggy skin below my eye. "I think that's when I started having sleep problems, too. I never really got over that."

Braeburn stroked my mane, and he spoke softly with just a hint of reassuring optimism. "Seems like you're sleepin' a little better these days, at least."

He was right. I looked up and made eye contact. "Well, yeah. I've got somepony who…" I brushed his cheek, just to prove he was really there. "…who loves me, and I love him back." I gave him a large, sucking kiss on his belly, which rumbled with a quiet laugh. I set my head back down on his warm chest. "You've changed my life, Braeburn."

"You, too, Soarin'." He shifted beneath me, and suddenly my ear was up against his heart, where I could hear it beating. I never figured out if he'd meant to do that, but it made talking a lot easier.

"As Hearth's Warming got closer, though, things seemed to get better. Mom and Dad had more time off of work, and we spent every day together just doing fun stuff. One day, we went to the Wonderbolts museum, and another, we spent the whole day sledding and flying around at a big ski resort that sold super creamy hot chocolate. Every time they got to just hang out with each other, the tension dissipated a little, and for a few days, things felt normal again. Even the regular days where we weren't doing anything were better. One time, I got to spend almost a whole day at my friend Sky Spiral's house, and by the time I came back, they were–" My eyes widened a little. "Oh, ew!"

Braeburn tensed and sat up straighter. "What?"

"Ugh…" I groaned as I slapped a hoof to my face. "When I got back, they were both super smiley and relaxed and cuddling together on the couch, but they both stank, and I couldn't figure out why." I shuddered. "Ugh. They totally spent the day having make-up sex."

Braeburn laughed softly. "Heh heh. Terrifyin', ain't it?"

"Yeah."

"Eeyup. Mighty scary…" There was a short pause, and his voice dropped a few notches. "…thinkin' about your daddy stickin' his–"

"Braeburn!" My eyes shot wide open.

"Into your mom's v–"

"DUDE!!!" I wrapped my forelegs around his middle and squeezed as hard as I could, choking off his next word.

"S'alright," he wheezed. "I wasn't gonna say it."

I started to let go.

He sucked in a breath and said, "Ya' know, they had to go through with it at least once." He kissed my forehead. "And I'm glad they did."

I calmed down a little. "Yeah…" Mercifully, my thoughts floated back to my story. "So…" I took a deep breath. "Eventually, it was Hearth's Warming Eve. We sat as a family in our house's parlor. Everything was decorated in gold, from Dad's favorite recliner to Mom's rocker to our family pictures and our bookcase. The coffee table was full of holiday knickknacks that Mom always liked, and a big tree sat in the corner of the room, lit with candles and sheltering a big pile of presents in shiny wrapping paper, almost all of them for me. That night, we got to open one present. I ended up opening the biggest box first, and inside were new airball pads and a helmet. It was everything I wanted! They were finally going to let me play after months of telling me it was too dangerous. I put it all on right away, and I almost completely forgot about my other gifts. I thought that was going to be the best part of the day."

My heart felt lighter, and a smile crept across my face. "But it wasn't. My parents got to open one, too, and... and it was like magic, Braeburn. I sat on the floor as Mom carefully unwrapped the small box that had been hastily wrapped in thin paper. Her jaw dropped as she saw it. Dad had carved a small jewelry box and hand-painted it with Mom's favorite shades of purple and blue, and he'd even set a few of her birthstones in around the rim. Inside was the pair of earrings she'd wanted, the ones that even she'd thought were too expensive. Mom was stunned, and she kept asking Dad how he'd managed to find the time and afford the earrings, and he just told her he'd found a way because he loved her. And when Dad opened his gift, wrapped up crisply in gold-spotted paper, he was speechless. She'd made him something, too: a scrapbook of their lives together. It had everything: pictures from some of their first dates, the pressed flowers from their engagement, an invitation from their wedding, the first picture of all three of us after I was born… and he cried. He sat there for so long, just staring at every page, until he finally remembered to look up.

"They stared at each other, mouths hanging open. I remember that the whole room felt like it was glowing, frozen in a moment that I wanted to keep forever. Mom and Dad set their gifts down, walked over to each other, and hugged. They held each other tightly and took big, shuddering breaths and kissed each other over and over until they were both crying, and my heart felt too big for my chest, and before I knew it, I was hugging them, too, and they were laughing at how I was struggling to get my legs around both of them. We were together. We were a family.

"That's the night that I learned what love was. What family was supposed to be. All the fights and the cold shoulders were gone. We had each other. Everything was going to be fine. None of us needed to feel lonely or scared, and as we set up the camera to take that picture, I thought…"

My smile slowly faded.

"I wanted to believe, Braeburn. They were so happy that day. I wanted it to last forever. I still remember the way she held me and said that I had better keep my guards on to protect me from all her hugs. Dad… laughed a lot at that."

My voice was getting quieter. "I wish I had his laugh. It was loud and full, and it always made me smile."

For almost a minute, neither of us said anything.

"I'm sorry, Big Blue." Braeburn hugged me with one hoof. "You… ever try to talk to her? About all this?"

It was tough enough just talking to him. "I've thought about it. I sent her a letter once, after Dad died, but then she just sent me a sympathy card back. 'Sorry for your loss.' And I just… couldn't. It was so cold and detached. She'd moved on. She offered to pay for part of the funeral if I needed the help, but that's basically all it said. She didn't really care about Dad, and I guess she didn't really care about me, either. I didn't want to think about her anymore. I didn't want to look at her, either, but… I can't get rid of it, Braeburn. It was the last time we were really a family. I want to pretend that that's how it ended, like it never had to change."

Braeburn set the picture down on the bedside table next to him. He sighed. "I know we've already been over this, but you should talk to her, Soarin'." When I winced, he added, "I mean it. For your sake."

I didn't want to. "Maybe."

He squeezed me again. "I hope you do, Soarin'. Hell, take from me. It feels a lot better when you finally tell your mom what you think of her parenting."

I sighed. "Maybe."

There was a long pause, and Braeburn nudged me. "Aw, but look at us mopin'." His voice was cheerier. "Today's a happy day. Let's get outta here before the bed gets soggy."

I looked up at him. He was so beautiful. "Clouds don't get soggy."

"Well, before it gets so heavy that it starts rainin', then." He chuckled. "But all the same, let's finish cleanin' up and figure out dinner. Might have to have that champagne you stashed in the back of that cabinet, too."

I looked into his bright eyes, and everything was clear: his warm smile, his sad eyebrows, the way he kept looking at me with both his ears pointed directly at me in case I wanted to say more. Everything about him – and the fact that he was there at all – said more than his words ever could, and suddenly, everything was light again. "Thanks, Brae."

He kissed my forehead. "Any time. I love you, Big Blue."

My skin still tingles when I remember him saying it.

We got up and went back downstairs. I grabbed a couple bags, and we stuffed everything that couldn't be salvaged into them. I was surprised how much Braeburn said he'd be able to restore, and you saw what a great job he did. Even if you can still see where everything was broken, I think he made it all stronger. He didn't just fix it. He restored it and made it okay to bring others inside. He made it better. We made it better. Together.

We ditched the garbage bags in the big receptacle behind my condo, and right when we got back into the kitchen, we heard a knock on the door. Braeburn went wide-eyed. "The papers?"

I smiled. "Nah." I knew who it would be. We walked over to the door, and as I opened it, I said, "Gooood afternoon, gorgeous!"

From outside, my neighbor Dazzling Sundrop smiled back at me, a small saddlebag draped over her back. Her yellow mane and orange coat glittered. And she was totally wearing makeup. "Well, nice to see you, too!"

I let her in. "Braeburn, this is Dazzling Sundrop. She's my neighbor. Daz, this is Braeburn. Braeburn's sexy."

"I can see that," she cooed as she batted her eyes towards Braeburn.

Braeburn blushed and rolled his eyes, but he still tipped his hat to her. "Pleased to meet you, Daz."

She bowed politely. "Pleasure's all mine. And Soarin's from the sound of it." She turned to me. "Sorry to be short, but I need to run. There was a malfunction at the weather factory, and I have a lot to do before tonight."

I narrowed my eyes. "Got a date with that doctor from a couple streets over?"

"Maybe," she said coyly.

I looked at Braeburn. "She's just dating him for his money."

"Oh, don't be silly," she said, waving a hoof. She dead-panned at Braeburn, "I'm dating him for his stock options. They always forget those in the pre-nup."

Daz and I roared in laughter at Braeburn's twisted, disgusted expression. When we calmed down, she said, "Oh, no. I really like Mender. He's great. But I shouldn't gab. I just wanted to give you your mail and deliver a couple messages. You really need to let the post office know when you'll be away, Soarin'."

"Sorry, Daz. I'll work…" I cocked my head to the side. "Messages?"

She passed me a pile of mail – mostly junk – and said, "Fire Streak and Spitfire. Actually, they've been coming over a couple times a day. Started about a week ago. When I asked them what was up, they told me you needed to go see Bottom Line as soon as you could."

My stomach dropped.

Braeburn looked at me. "Your manager, right?"

I bit my lip. "Yeah." If he'd been looking for me, it couldn't have been good. "Daz, did they say what he wanted?"

She shook her head. "They just said it was urgent. And that they'd keep an eye out for you. Fire Streak especially seemed concerned. He really wanted to talk to you before you went to see Bottom Line, I think. If I were you, Soarin', I wouldn't wait."

I looked at Braeburn. He had such soft, concerned eyes. "Brae…" I didn't want him to face any of my drama that quickly. I wanted it to be our night. But it never works out that nicely, does it? I sighed. "I'm sorry, but I–"

He nodded. "We should go now. It'll be easier to do it today before the paparazzi figure out we're here."

I shook my head. "No, Brae, you don't have–"

"Bullshit," he said, nuzzling me firmly. "I'm stickin' by you, Big Blue, papers or no."

And he did. I'll always love him for that, especially since neither of us knew how much I'd need him at the Academy.

Chapter 32 - Bro

My captain's uniform felt like trusty, familiar armor. The stiff material tightly hugged my chest, and as my wings poked through the holes on the back, something shifted in my brain. My uniform didn't sting my skin anymore. Instead, it was like putting on goggles in a thunderstorm: you know you've got a big problem ahead, but at least you can see where you're going. I sucked in a quick breath without realizing it, and then I nodded at Braeburn. "Let's go."

We stepped outside into the warm sun and the blinding white of the clouds. I thought about calling a cab, but Braeburn said he wanted to get one good walk in before the media figured out where we were. I cocked an eyebrow at him as we left my front lawn. "You sure?"

"Of course! After all…" Braeburn breathed deeply. "The air's mighty crisp. Not really used to smelling, well, so much nothin', and it'd be a shame to be cooped up in a cab again. Legs could use a stretch, too."

I smiled as we walked toward the edge of the Estates.

My wings tingled. You ever been, like, on your way to the grocery store, someplace you've gone to a million times? There's a route you always take, but one day, the road's blocked off and you have to take a different street? Walking to the Academy felt just like that. I absentmindedly started flapping a few times until Braeburn cleared his throat. "Oh, sorry."

It was about noon, and on a Monday like that, there weren't many ponies hanging around. Safe Haven stopped us for a few minutes to do a quick patrol of the grounds, but after he gave us the all-clear, we trotted down the street towards the Academy.

"You ever just walk to work?" Braeburn asked as we turned down Firefly Lane.

I shrugged. "Eh, nah. I can sleep in later if I fly. Plus, it's a good warmup. A lot of the 'Bolts go for wake-up flights, which…" I looked up and to the side. "I haven't done much of that lately, have I?"

Braeburn pranced along next to me, his steps lighter than they'd been in days. "Why not? Seems like a good way to start the mornin'. Wanderin' around the orchard at sunrise always helps me clear my head."

"Well, I… just haven't felt like it, I guess." I looked at Braeburn. "It gets kinda hard to take care of yourself when you're down, you know?"

"I do know. All too well," he said in a low tone as his pace slowed by half a step. "Just easier to laze around doin' nothin'. Tough to get outta that rut." He nickered. "I gained some weight after Bronze left, more than I'd like to admit. Not proud of that. Gotta get rid of some of it."

I narrowed my gaze. "Weeeeell, as long as you don't lose that ass."

"Ha! You got nothin' to worry about, Big Blue." He bumped my flank with his. "We'll keep each other on the right track, right?"

The sunlight made his mane glow, and my mouth curled into a smile. "Right."

We made it halfway to the Academy without any problems, but as we passed by a park – the one we were just at, actually – we heard, "Hey, is that Soarin'? Yeah, and that's his coltfriend!"

Braeburn draw a sharp breath, so I leaned in and whispered, "Just keep walking." He looked stiff, but we kept going.

Behind us, I heard, "Mr. Windsong?" Wings flapped, and the voice got closer. "And Braeburn, right? Can we get an autograph, please?"

When I saw Braeburn biting his lip, I turned around to a dark blue adolescent pegasus mare and said, "Sorry. We're in a hurr–"

"Wind Rider!" she yelled over her shoulder. "Hey! It's really them!" She turned back to us, eyes sparkling. "Really quick! Please?"

Braeburn seized up and cast quick glances my way.

I gave him a stiff grimace that I hoped said, 'It'll be faster to just do this,' and turned to the dark blue mare and her friend, a light pink pegasus. "Just one. We're in a hurry."

The mares squealed, and luckily, they didn't have cameras with them. We signed a few small pieces of paper, but Braeburn cringed when one of them said, "Hey! Could you sign this, too, please?" and whipped out a copy of Cosmare, the one with the cover image of Braeburn escaping onto the train.

Braeburn ground his teeth. "Where the hell…" He glared at her, and his voice was low, like a parent's. "Why you gotta wave that thing in front of my face? You really think it was such a pleasant experience that we wanna relive it every day?"

The mares just giggled to themselves.

"I'm serious," he said flatly.

The dark blue pegasus rolled her eyes. "Jeez, it's no big deal. It's just a picture."

Braeburn's eyes flared wide open. "No big–! Little missy, you might not realize it, but it's a big deal to us!"

The pink one sneered. "So just, like, sign it and move on, then?"

Braeburn firmly straightened his hat. "Ma'am, we've been more than accommodating for your little game of–"

The pink one glared back. "We're just trying to be nice, jeez! What's wrong with–"

I cut her off and nudged Braeburn towards the Academy. "Uh, sorry! We're–"

But he came right back. "Ma'am, I'm sorry for yellin', but it's mighty inconsiderate of y'all to be badgerin' us like this! We've got our own business to attend to. Didn't you think of that at all?"

The blue mare just sneered. "Who the buck do you think you are? Your fans are the ones that made you famous in the first place!"

"Our what?" Braeburn stomped. "Y'all don't know the first thing about us! And we didn't ask for any fans in the first–"

"Braeburn!" I shouted. A few passers-by had noticed, and four more ponies were heading towards us. "Let's go."

Braeburn snorted and turned around with a jerk, turning up his nose at the mares.

"Asshole!" shouted the dark blue one. Braeburn didn't flinch.

But walking away wasn't enough. It started just like these things always do, with one bold pony taking the first step. This time, it was a large, green stallion. "Wow, are you really Braeburn?"

Braeburn tried to ignore him. He turned his head down, hidden under his hat. I walked beside him, but soon, a second pegasus stepped into our path. Then another. Then, a few more that had been flying above us swooped down and landed on either side of us, drawn by the growing crowd. Their questions got louder, and the ponies began talking over each other.

"I thought you were in Las Pegasus!"
"Can I have a picture?"
"You know, my cousin's aunt lives in Appleloosa."
"Huge fan! I'd love to take you two to dinner sometime!"

I put on my usual polite smile and waved a hoof a couple times. It was annoying, yeah, but nothing I wasn't used to. This wasn't even that big a crowd – just a dozen or so ponies. I could handle it.

Braeburn, though…

Braeburn's breathing picked up, and then mine picked up with it. 'Dammit. Okay, we just need to find an escape route. He'll be okay if we can ditch these guys for a few minutes. Just keep cool.'

I couldn't fight the tightness in my chest though, and it only got worse as Braeburn huddled closer to me and tried harder and harder to hide. I frantically looked for a building to duck into or something, but we were in a residential area – nothing but private property. We were surrounded by a mob of ponies. Some were taking pictures, and they kept pressing closer and closer, sticking their heads and magazines in our faces.

"Could you sign this, please?"
"How are you liking Cloudsdale?"
"Lemme try on your hat!"
"Is Soarin' really as big downstairs as Cosmare said he is?"

All the color drained from Braeburn's face.

And I was pissed. I shook, and it took all my self-control not to lash out. 'For Braeburn's sake,' I kept telling myself. 'A scene would just make it worse.' I threw my wings around us, and we pressed forward. Slower. Slower. The questions turned to shouting, the flashes grew more frequent, and we had to physically push our way forward. Behind my wings, neither of us could really see, but there must have been two dozen ponies by that point.

Braeburn shivered and huddled close, and my heart felt like it was dissolving. I put my mouth near his ear, and my voice was weak. "I'm sorry, Braeburn. I should've–"

"Please don't start, Soarin'," he managed to say over the roar of the crowd. "Let's just get out of here. Please."

It felt like hours. We'd take a few steps forward, and then we'd have to side-step and press forward. Our little wing cocoon grew warm with all the ponies buzzing around us, and our ears rang from all the shouting. The air grew stale. Forcing ourselves forward took more and more effort.

And we were alone. There was nopony to help us. It wasn't like back in Ponyville or Haulahay, where we had Braeburn's friends and family to get us out. No, we were on my turf, and unlike Braeburn, I'd managed to alienate every pony that had tried to get close to me.

I grit my teeth harder and harder. 'Just a little further,' I thought. 'We'll be okay. They're just fans and they don't know any better and oh Luna screw these ponies!' My head felt hot, and I started sneering. 'We're boned. We're boned! We only made it back to Cloudsdale because we had help, and now we're on our own, and who do we have now? Nopony! Dammit!'

Braeburn pressed into me. I don't know if he meant to or not, but it helped. A little.

I growled just to keep myself from screaming. 'It's fine. We'll make to the Academy, but then what? Bottom Line's gonna can my ass, and then what do I have? Dammit, why'd I bring Braeburn here in the first place? Sweet Luna, I'm a dumbass.' My jaw was sore, and my hooves wanted to turn around and head back home. 'The 'Bolts are already used to being without me, aren't they? Streak's probably taken over my office by now.' I swallowed hard and felt a sinking in my abdomen. 'And he totally deserves to. He totally deserves to replace me.'

Suddenly, we heard a booming voice shout down at the crowd from above. "This is a restricted area! Disperse immediately!"

The heat drained from my head down the back of my neck, and I breathed a sigh of relief. The crowd scattered, piece by piece, and the stragglers were pulled off of us by a couple large, muscular pegasi in Wonderbolts Security uniforms. They made damn sure nopony else bothered us, and they escorted us through the gates and a few dozen meters into the Academy grounds while the crowd started reforming at the border, a colorful sea of wings and noise and flashing cameras.

My wings were stiff, and I finally let them rest once Braeburn and I had ducked behind the front office, Hurricane Hall. It was smaller than most of the other buildings on the grounds, but it still shielded us from the crowd. Braeburn stepped away from me and started shaking.

The security officer, a brown pegasus with a cream-colored mane, saluted. "Apologies, captain, sir. We didn't know you were coming. We would have sent an escort. I assure you, it won't happen again, and I will hold myself personally responsible." He bowed his head.

I sighed and straightened out my uniform, which had crinkled slightly. "At ease. And… Don't worry about it. The situation was out of your control." I waved a hoof. "I'll need daily escorts, though, starting today. Think you can look into that for me?"

He saluted again. "Sir, yes, sir!"

I stood up straighter and nodded. "Thank you." Braeburn stood on quivering legs, staring wide-eyed at the ground. I quickly added, "We'll be in the Green Room for a while. You're dismissed."

He didn't move. "Uh… Apologies, sir, but I can't do that. Orders from Bottom Line. We're supposed to stay with you during your entire visit."

Braeburn was breathing heavily, and his eyes were wide, and he kept staring. His jaw was tight, and he was silent.

I held up a hoof. "Look, could you… What was your name?"

"Eagle Eye, sir."

"Eagle Eye, could you give us a minute alone?"

He hesitated. "Is that an order, sir?"

I jerked my head back to Braeburn. "It's a request."

Eagle Eye paused and looked at Braeburn. "Yes, sir. I'll be nearby." He stepped around the corner of the building.

I looked back to Braeburn, who was blinking and swallowing over and over. He had the opposite of that relaxed aura, and he strained to hold himself together. "It's okay, Applebutt. Nopony's looking."

"Oh, Celestia!" He let out a shuddering breath and flopped onto the cloud, pulling his hat over his eyes and holding it there. He shivered again. I put a hoof on his back, but he flinched. "Please!" He wasn't looking at me. "Please, don't… I-I just need a second. Just gimme a second." He kept shaking.

He was throwing up a wall again, and it stung. It was us against the world, but right then, he didn't want "us."

But I needed to be strong for him. I sat next to him and wrapped a wing around his face, careful not to touch him. A few guards walked by. I stayed still. One of the newer recruits raised an eyebrow and started walking up to me, but I glared and gave a quick shake of my head, and she left.

I set my jaw and kept an eye out. Was it embarrassing to be sitting there, an outcast from my own job, crumpled up behind a building and waiting for something else to go wrong? Of course, but dude, screw that. Screw what other ponies thought. I needed to keep Braeburn safe. "Take all the time you need, Brae."

After a few minutes, I heard a deep breath from under my wing, and Braeburn sat up. He looked at me with those emerald eyes of his and then lowered his head. "I… Thanks, Big Blue. I think I'll be okay." He still wasn't touching me, but at least he was talking. "Just, uh, needed to catch my breath."

I folded my wing back in. "You sure? We can spend a few minutes in Hurricane Hall if you need to."

He shook his head. "Uh-uh. Might as well get all this over with." He paused. "But… I really appreciate it." He blushed. "Guess there's still a lot to get used to," he said as he stood up and straightened his hat.

I sneered. "Ew. No. Don't get used to it. Fans can be awful. Don't cut anypony slack if they pull stuff like that."

"Heh, alright," he said, wiping his forehead with a fetlock. "Suppose you're right. I-I mean, can you believe 'em?" He gave me shaky smile. "Terribly rude. I mean, one of 'em asked about the size of your privates!"

I smirked. "Miiiiight wanna keep it down, Applebutt." I cast a glance towards the wide-eyed reserves recruits that were marching nearby.

Braeburn turned bright red. "Aw, jeez! Sorry!" He pulled his hat over his face again and mumbled, "Let's just go."

We grabbed Eagle Eye. He marched in front, crisp but a little slower than we wanted. At least nopony else bothered us as we walked down the wide roads and past the cloud-and-metal buildings.

"Fire Streak's office is close, right?" Braeburn asked.

I chewed on my tongue. 'You mean my office?' My heart beat faster, and the air felt heavier in my lungs. 'Shit. They wouldn't actually do that, would they?' I said, "I… dunno. I mean, he, like, doesn't have an office, exactly, unless–"

"They wouldn't have given yours away, Soar." Read my mind. "They'd be afraid you'd raise hell over it. They've gotta worry about PR, too, right? And, uh…" He quieted down. "If you don't mind me sayin', you ain't the most stable when you get riled up."

I knew what he was referring to, but… "Uh, right." I didn't want to think about the carriage ride from his parents' house anymore. "Okay. So. Fire Streak's either with the team or in the Green Room. That right, Double-E?"

Eagle Eye answered without turning his head. "Yes, sir."

Braeburn cocked his head to the side. "The what?"

We had that whole conversation about the Green Room not being green or a room, and we arrived about a minute later. Maybe I was just tired of dealing with bullshit, but I didn't hesitate at all. We walked right inside to see the spotless floors and polished metal and immaculate walls with only organizationally-approved décor. Eagle Eye stayed close behind. We passed by preparation room A on our left, and Braeburn said, "Uh, I think we're here." He pointed to a door, and even I was able to read Fire Streak's name on the door's window in big, black lettering.

I let out a breath. It wasn't my office. My wings relaxed, and I said, "Okay. Not fired yet."

Braeburn let out a breath, too. "Good. Want me to knock?"

I looked at him. The corners of his eyes were down, and his lower lip stuck out a little.

I smiled. "Nah. I got this." I knocked, but we both noticed that the gem lights were off inside.

Braeburn furrowed his eyebrows while we both stared at the door. "So, do we wait out here with Eagle Eye, or–"

A low, snarky voice cut him off from behind us. "Nah, it's too clean and sterile out here." We both jumped and whipped around to see Fire Streak land noiselessly on the floor, all decked out in a captain's uniform that looked just like mine and nicely complemented his cream-colored coat and orange mane. He smirked. "Gives me the creeps."

"Streak!" I shouted. My chest tightened even while my shoulders relaxed, and two big feelings crashed into each other: the fear of seeing him in a captain's uniform, and the excitement of, well, seeing him in a captain's uniform. Jealousy and loathing coursed through me like lightning, but they were soon buried under a wave of relief. My muscles loosened. Maybe it was because we'd only seen Braeburn's friends and family for so long, maybe it was the crowd that had swarmed us outside, but whatever it was, I jumped up and hugged him. He was my friend. My best friend, one of the few I still had left, and I needed to believe I had at least one ally in the 'Bolts. It felt like home, and I felt a little more like I was back in my own skin.

Streak didn't get snarky or anything. He just hugged me back and softly said, "Welcome home, bro." We pulled apart, and he looked at our escort. "Thanks, Eagle Eye. I'll take them from here. You're dismissed."

He saluted and said, "Yes, cap–"

"That's sir, private!" He snorted.

Eagle Eye faltered. "Uh, yes, sir. Sorry, sir." He quickly left with his tail between his legs.

My internal organs churned over themselves again, but only for a second. After that, my heart swelled. "Dude, you made captain? That's… awesome!" I meant it. Mostly.

Fire Streak shook his head. "Interim captain. Bottom Line wanted–" He sighed and put a hoof on my shoulder. "Come on inside. There's a lot to talk about. But I've got your back, bro. Spitfire does, too. There's… just a lot to figure out."

He knew. He knew what was going to happen once we saw Bottom Line, and he already knew what he was going to do.

"Nice stud, by the way." He narrowed his eyes as we walked into his office. "And the earring's not bad, either."

"Heh heh." He could read me perfectly. He knew I needed to chill, and shooting the breeze with him was the best way to get my head back in the game. "Some stallion finally turn you?"

"No way, Soarin'. I'm keeping the mares. It really looks good, though." He turned to Braeburn. "Yours, too. Oh, hey! Sorry. I'm Fire Streak. Congrats on surviving your first brush with fame. It really isn't easy." He held out a hoof.

Braeburn shook it. "Thank you kindly. Name's Braeburn. Soarin's told me nothin' but good things."

Streak chuckled. "Liar."

"Well," Braeburn said, rolling his eyes and shrugging. "From his stories, you seem like a good guy, overall."

Streak nodded. "I can live with that. Come on in." He opened the door, led us inside, and gestured around. "I'd tell you to make yourselves comfortable, but that might be unrealistic."

Streak's office was… bare. It had all the standard-issue stuff – desk, filing cabinets, chairs – but on the walls, there was nothing. I'd expected a few of his awards or pictures or something, at least, but no. We sat down on the metal chairs. Braeburn looked around with a neutral expression, observing all the little pieces and the big whole.

Streak sat down behind his desk, folded his forelegs on it, and said, "I–" He blinked at us. "Sorry, just a second." He pulled his chair around his desk so that the three of us were all together, and he sighed. "Okay. Better. So, first question–"

"How was the first show!?" I blurted at him, beaming a smile.

He choked on some spit and let out a mix of laughing and coughing. When he'd calmed down, he said, "Aw, Soarin', it was amazing! Our stunts went off without a hitch, and we did all this stuff with fire – you're gonna bucking love this week's show – and the faces! Soarin', I could see all of them. They freaking loved it!"

I smiled. "No surprise there. You're a hell of a flyer, Streak."

Fire Streak scratched at his wing, which had started to flare out. "My parents were there, too. They even saved the front page of their local paper." His voice got a little stiff. "Turns out there was, uh, at least one that didn't hear about you skipping town."

My ears flattened against my head. My eyes widened. My heart stopped. "Wait… Oh, shit!" I hadn't even thought about it until that moment. The papers had been chasing us for weeks, and our story had completely overshadowed his. "Streak, I’m so sorry!" I closed my eyes and slapped a hoof to the face. "Aw, dude, that's awful. Sorry, Streak, I–" I felt his hoof wrapping around me again, and my cheeks suddenly felt hot. "You're, uh… really touchy-feely today."

He slapped me on the back and pulled back just far enough to meet my eyes. "All is forgiven, Soarin', at least on my end. I just hope you won't be angry with me."

I heard Braeburn clear his throat and adjust in his chair. He was picking up on the subtext, too. I said, "Thanks, Number One. But, like, what happened, exactly? Why would I be angry?"

His smile flickered into a frown for a second. "It's been crazy, Soarin', and I'm not exactly proud of how I handled myself." He glanced out into the hallway. "And I promise I'll tell you the whole story, but we need to get you up to speed on what's about to happen."

"Don't change the subject, dude," I said with an edge in my voice. "What happened?"

Fire Streak opened his mouth, but he didn't say anything for a couple seconds. He closed his mouth and held up a hoof. "I promise, bro. It's all okay now. Let's just focus on what's happening right now."

Braeburn said, in a low voice, "I don't much like that tone you've got. Makin' me nervous."

Streak pursed his lips. "Good. You should be."

"Why?" I asked. "Spill it. We've already had to wade through too much bullshit this month."

Streak nodded. "Long story short, Bottom Line wants to fire you."

Braeburn shrieked, "What?"

I exhaled. "Figures. Why didn't he just send me a letter, though?" I sneered. "He wanted to throw it in my face or something?"

Streak shook his head. "No. If he'd had his way, you wouldn't have set hoof on Academy grounds ever again. Spitfire talked him into meeting with you when you came back. And, well…" He looked away, and his face scrunched up. He spoke softly, and his cheeks were a little red. "I might have helped a little, too."

I cocked an eyebrow. "How much is a little?"

He cleared his throat. "Don't worry about it."

My shoulders sunk, and I narrowed my gaze at him. "Dude, you don't need to be so cagey. It can't be that long a story."

"It… kinda is." He sighed and shrugged. "Just trust me on this, Soarin'. We'll take care of it."

I felt a warm ember in my chest telling me to push harder, but I just said, "Well, thanks. I appreciate it."

Fire Streak blinked at me. "…That's it?"

"Hm?"

He flicked a hoof and cocked an eyebrow. "I was expecting a meltdown or something, or at least a little more swearing. What happened?"

I chuckled and jerked my head at Braeburn. "He did."

Braeburn blushed. "Aw, he's just bein' nice."

"No, I'm not. You just…" My chest warmed. "…you just do something to me."

He blushed harder and smiled a warm, calm smile.

I turned back to Fire Streak. "Plus, I've already basically been fired once, right? How bad can it be?"

Streak laughed. "Ha! Right." He sat up straighter. "But yeah, get ready to plead for your soul. I don't know what's going on in Bottom Line's head, but it can't be good. Spitfire said he's been quieter than usual."

I rolled my eyes. "Screw Bottom Line. How's the team been?"

"Good, mostly. Well, at least the last couple weeks. The reporters have been hounding us day and night, and I guess I don't have to tell you that one of them leaked the story about you."

He was talking about how the media had found out I'd been cut. "Yeah, I know. Ever figure out who did it?"

He shook his head. "Trust me, I wouldn't have been able to wash the blood from my hooves. It's… pretty easy to leak information if you really want to." He paused. "If we find them, you'll get first crack at them, though." He shook out his mane. "Anyway, things were tense, but we've kept everypony together. Spitfire and I have had a few talks with the team about it, trying to keep them motivated and focused."

"Heh heh," I chuckled. "Or terrified, in Spitfire's case."

Fire Streak snorted, but then his face relaxed. "Well," he said in an airy tone. "You'd be surprised."

"Okay, this I've got to hear!" I leaned in and flicked a hoof. "What happ–"

"Later," he said firmly. "We should really go see Bottom Line before he hears you've gotten back, if he hasn't already." He cleared his throat. "And I'm sorry, Braeburn, but you probably aren't welcome."

Braeburn's ears stood straight up. "What?"

"Bottom Line won't want you intruding. You'd just get thrown out by security. Or worse."

"Hell no!" He shook his head. "I'm gonna be there for him."

I turned my head to Braeburn. "Sorry, Applebutt, but Streak's right. The last thing we need is you getting thrown out to the reporters." He slumped a little, so I said, "Besides, I'll need somepony to bitch to after it's over, and you don't want hear the story twice, riiiiiiight?" I winked at him.

He sighed. "Alright, Big Blue. But call me if you need me." He got up and hugged me. "Love you, Soarin'. And good luck."

Those words always helped. "Love you, too, Braeburn."

Streak let us have a moment, then said, "You can stay here, Braeburn. Just don't tell anypony I left you unattended. We'll be quick."

Braeburn sat back down, and his tail flicked behind him. "I'll be waitin'."

…

Remember what I said about pegasi?

Streak and I got up and trotted out into the hallway. After the door closed behind us, he narrowed his eyes at me and asked, "Applebutt?"

I smiled. "You'll understand when you're older, Streak."

He smiled back. "As long as no earth ponies get me on my back, I'm good."

"Don't knock it 'til you've tried it." I looked behind us. "Speaking of getting pounded, where's Spitfire? Out with the team?"

A flash of panic raced across Fire Streak's face, and his voice cracked. "Uh, yeah!" He coughed. "She, jeez, she's taking this shift. Spitfire wants to see you, too, Soarin'. I'm going to go work with the team after we talk to Bottom Line, then you two can have some time. Until then…" We'd reached Bottom Line's big, imposing doors. We looked at each other, and Fire Streak gave me a stiff nod. "I've got your back, bro."

He held out a hoof, and I bumped it. "Thanks, Number One." I set my jaw and stared at the door. My pulse quickened. My wings itched. My head felt like it was floating, but I was ready. "Let's do this."

Streak knocked, and after a gruff "Come in!" he opened the door.

Streak walked in first. "Soarin's back, sir."

"I know," came Bottom Line's gravelly, clipped voice. "Bring him in."

I followed Streak inside. Bottom Line's room looked darker than ever, and everything was lifeless and static. The filing cabinets had gotten bigger, and everything was still eerily spotless. But this time, Bottom Line wasn't furiously scribbling on paper or poring over spreadsheets. No. With his black coat and tightly cropped white mane, wearing his white shirt with all sorts of patches, he just sat there, sipping his coffee. Waiting for us. Staring daggers at me.

I kept my shoulders square even in the face of his withering gaze. I could feel his eyes pressing down on me, trying to buckle my knees. I didn't budge, though, because as hard as he stared, I could feel something else, too. Two of them, actually: one next to me, and one down the hall. I wasn't alone. I was propped up by ponies that cared about me, and Bottom Line wasn't going to intimidate us.

Especially not when wearing that ridiculous pink sombrero.

Streak and I sat down on those cold stools of his, stoic, like two guards. Bottom Line slowly set down his mug of coffee. "You're staying, Captain Fire Streak?"

Streak nodded. "Yes, sir."

"You realize Mister Windsong deserves some privacy?" He didn't look at me.

"That's his choice, sir." He was motionless.

I was, too, and I said in a clear voice, "I'd rather have him stay, sir."

"Understood," Bottom Line said flatly, turning to Fire Streak. "But you're not pulling any stunts this time, Captain. I've been busy."

Fire Streak frowned intensely. "Wave Chill told me about your conversation, sir."

Bottom Line's eyebrows raised a centimeter, which is probably the biggest reaction I've ever seen from him. "I see."

"We do share a duplex, sir."

"Yes." Bottom Line nodded. "That doesn't change anything, so let's make this quick." I tensed up as he reached into a drawer and pulled out a large envelope, which he slapped onto the desk. "Mister Windsong, this envelope contains checks for the past three weeks as well as your severance pay. Consider this your official notice of dishonorable discharge."

My blood felt warm, but Streak had prepared me for this. "Sir, I don't accept–"

"No," Streak interrupted. "No, it isn't."

My head reeled back, and I looked at him.

Bottom Line sneered. "I don't want to hear it, Captain. You're–"

"Too bad, sir. I recommend you seriously consider–"

"You need to seriously consider the good of the team, Captain." His voice had raised slightly. "Your duty is to them first and foremost, regardless–"

I saw Fire Streak flinch, so I jumped in, "Sir, a dishonorable dis–"

Bottom Line slammed a hoof on the desk. "Do NOT interrupt your superiors, Windsong!"

"I don't need to follow your rules if I'm fired, sir," I spat. I could feel my chest rise and my wings start to flare in aggression. "But I'm not. A dishonorable discharge is only appropriate for a severe breach of protocol. It requires a court-marshal, which you haven't invoked." Bottom Line's eyebrow raised another centimeter. I rolled my eyes and sneered. "Yeah, surprise! I know the rules. You can't fire me for sub-par performance in the short-term." I felt the wave of momentum churn my way.

Bottom Line leaned back in his chair. "The process won't take long, Windsong. Your disobedience hasn't been a short-term issue." His eyes flicked up to my ear, which still had the yellow stud. "…to say nothing of your defiance of our dress code or the trouble you've caused in public, and besides–"

"Sir!" My blood raged through me, and my wings were fully extended. "No court would suspend me for the media scandal, either! It was clearly out of my control." Mostly, I told myself. "And it was a member of your organization that leaked my situation in the first place!"

Fire Streak's wings were out, too. "And, sir, a notice of dishonorable discharge without following proper protocol is, itself, a serious offense, one that could easily be considered coercion!"

Bottom Line snorted, stood, and slammed the desk again. "Keep your opinions to yourself, Captain!" he fumed.

"And you keep yours out of your decisions, sir! We all know you've got it out for Soarin', but that doesn't give you the right to–"

"You do not! Fucking! Question my professional integrity, captain!" He glowered at me. "You're right. I hate this son-of-a-bitch, and I'd like nothing more than to see him gone. But regardless of my own opinions, I have a duty to cut the cancer out of this organization. And if it means losing a great captain with a lot of potential, then so be it!"

I shouted, "Then fucking demote me, sir! Do it! You can't just throw me out for a fucking scandal!"

"But I have a duty to kick your sorry ass to the curb for going AWOL!"

I froze.

"W… What?" I shook my head and blinked, trying to parse his words. "What are you talking–"

"Two weeks, Windsong!" He sat back down, then violently yanked the calendar from his desk and slammed it back down in front of me. "You requested two Luna-damned weeks off, which this organization generously granted to you on obscenely short notice. As of tomorrow, you've been out for three weeks! Do I need to fucking spell it out for you? AWOL! Absent without official leave! That's a fact that no court would argue, and that's what's getting you the hell out of this organization and out of my mane this instant!"

My joints locked up. "No…" He was right. He was completely right. "I had to take care of Br… A civilian! D-Did you expect me to… to leave him for the media? That would, uh…" I was grasping for anything, but with every turn my brain took, I realized more and more that he was right.

"I expect you to take your job seriously, Windsong!" Bottom Line dropped into his chair, still growling at me. "And you haven't! So that's it. Nothing left but paperwork." He jammed a hoof towards the door. "Now leave. We're done."

I was out of options. No plays left. I wasn't a Wonderbolt anymore, and there was nothing I could do.

But I wasn't alone.

"Yeah," Fire Streak spat as he stood up. "We are." He reached into his breast pocket and brought out a tightly-folded piece of paper. He slammed it onto the desk and left his hoof on top of it while he stared Bottom Line down.

Bottom Line slowly shook his head. "That won't work this time, Captain."

"It will if you care about the team's future," Streak shot back.

Bottom Line sneered. "Wave Chill is perfectly capable of leading the–"

"Bullshit! You and I both know he's not ready, and so does he. Trust me. I've asked."

A terrible, terrible realization bubbled up in the back of my brain and robbed me of my breath. I stared at that paper. "Streak, that's not… Is that…"

Streak didn't stop trying to kill Bottom Line with his glare. "Three captains in a month, sir? Is that really how you want the higher-ups to hear about your performance?"

Bottom Line was motionless, his eyebrows knit. "I do my job, Captain."

My eyes widened, and my lip quivered. I realized what he was doing, and the weight of it threatened to crush me. "Dude, stop!" I leapt up and to the desk, right next to Fire Streak. He looked strong and defiant, just like the statues that stood proudly on the Academy grounds. "You can't fucking resign! The team needs you! They'll fucking eat each other alive without a strong captain!"

Bottom Line nodded slowly at Streak. "You should listen to him, Fire Streak. You've done commendable work in the face of adversity, and a lot of ponies have taken notice. Don't throw it all away."

Streak spoke evenly but with acid in his voice. "I'm not the one throwing it away, sir. You are."

"Streak!" I shouted.

"Soarin', just back the fuck off!" he shouted at me. "This is my decision to–"

My head whipped around to Bottom Line. "You're going to destroy this team!"

"Better than watching it crumble!" he shouted back, standing up again. "We'll rebuild, and if I can get a couple assholes out of my mane in the process, all the better!"

"This isn't your choice, Soarin'!" Streak yelled.

"The fuck is wrong with–"

"I'm doing what I think is–"

"I'll call security on both your sorry–"

The door flew open with a loud SLAM! "If I might interject? Y'all sound like a bunch of hens bickerin' over the best nest!" We all whirled our heads to face the door. Braeburn stood there, a wide, smug grin on his face. "Though at this point, that's more of an insult to the chickens. They'd never resort to this disgraceful behavior."

Bottom Line's eyes widened as he roared, "Who the fuck are you?"

"A concerned citizen with a big mouth, and if I can't say my piece here, I certainly know a few interested ponies out by the road."

"This organization will not be threatened! Secur–!"

Braeburn coolly shrugged. "It's alright, it's alright," he said with a mellow tone. "It ain't a threat, Mister… Bottom Line, was it?" He sauntered into the room, cranking up the western charm. He spoke slowly and rhythmically. "I'm simple folk, sir, and I just tell it like it is. Now, if y'all wouldn't mind gettin' out of each other's faces, I think we'll find we've got a mutually beneficial course of action ahead of us."

"This doesn't concern you!" Bottom Line growled through gritted teeth.

Braeburn shut the door. "Oh, it most certainly does," he responded, looking around at the immaculate room and nonchalantly resting a foreleg on a stool by the wall. "Ya' see, my coltfriend's livelihood is on the line, and there's a whole bunch of ponies badgerin' me for a story. I'd really rather not sell them what they'd like, but I need to eat, too." Bottom Line hesitated, so Braeburn kept going. "Now," he said, laying on an even thicker, even more boisterous accent than usual. "As the mayor of Appleloosa–" He winked at me. "–Ah know how valuable time is, so if'n ya'd give me just a moment, Ah will gladly take my leave and take this little blue troublemaker with me. Celestia knows he can be a hoofful. Just five minutes of your time. Deal?"

"If you don't leave right–"

Breaburn looked Bottom Line directly in the eye. "Five minutes seems like an awful small price to keep those reporters out of it."

The air was dead still, and neither Streak nor I dared to breathe while the gears turned in Bottom Line's head.

Bottom Line slowly reclined into his chair and crossed his forelegs, glaring. "Make it quick."

Streak and I both sat down, our eyes wide and mouths agape.

"Thank you." Braeburn sauntered around. "Now, Mister Bottom Line, Ah appreciate the work you do. Ah really do. Ain't easy, is it? Long hours, grindin' through a buncha paperwork, always bein' the bearer of bad news… Hoo, tough job. Mighty tough, and Ah can only imagine how much harder it must be with the whole of Equestria holdin' their breath, waitin' for ya' t' slip up, right?" He took a moment to appreciate the quality of Bottom Line's desk and run a hoof across the front. "So ya' don't. Ya' do everythin' perfectly, ya' make momma proud. Or, in your case, Ah'm gonna say…" He rubbed his chin theatrically. "Wife and… two colts? Maybe a filly?"

I thought the silence would kill me, but for just a second, Bottom Line's usually dull colors seemed to glow. "Top Rank and Sky High, yes. Colts. Melody Breeze is carrying our third."

"Heh heh," Braeburn chuckled. "Well, congratulations t' you and yours. Ah'd love to buy ya' a drink t' celebrate. 'Course, if it is a filly, Ah expect you'll buy me one back. Heh heh. Picked out a name yet?"

I thought for a brief second that Bottom Line cracked a smile, but if I did, my brain refused to process it. His voice was low and smoother than I'd ever heard it. "We're thinking Velocity if it's a filly. Haven't chosen a colt's name yet, but thank you. I'll pass it along." He adjusted his tie. "But please, as you said, my time is valuable." He glanced at me and sneered. "And I have a lot of paperwork to fill out."

"Why?"

Bottom Line's head rotated just to the left. "Excuse me?"

"Why? Seems like the team's got enough on its plate, what with all these rumors flyin' around. Ah tell ya', Appleloosa's a small town, and we ain't got nothin' to do but gossip, but sweet Celestia! Ah ain't never seen nothin' like this mess with Soarin' and those damn reporters. Buncha leeches, and trust me, Ah'd like to put it t' bed just as much as you do. Prob'ly more, just to get the flashin' lights outta my face. Feels like the most borin' part of Hearth's Warming all the time. Heh heh."

Bottom Line sighed and scowled. "I recognize that you care about Soarin', but he's bad for the team, and he's failed as a leader."

Braeburn stuck out his lower lip. "Huh. Maybe he's slipped up lately, but it seems like havin' no leader'd be worse."

Bottom Line shook his head stiffly. "You're not going to persuade me, Mister Apple."

"Just Braeburn's fine, and Ah don't need to persuade you of anythin' at all. Ah think you've already puzzled out the ideal solution, somthin' that'd put a lid on all this nonsense, lickity split, but maybe ya' don't think everypony'd go along with it." Braeburn leaned on the desk. "But I assure you he would, or he ain't gettin' any for a month."

I perked up. "Wait, what?"

"Mister Line, forgive me for eavesdroppin'." He shrugged and gestured with a hoof. "Terrible habit, sinful really – but it sounds like ya' don't much approve of how Soarin's been runnin' his team lately. Fire Streak, though, has been doin' one hell of a job."

Bottom Line glared harder. "Fire Streak's made it clear he won't accept full-time captainship."

"Huh." Braeburn scratched the side of his head. "Well, that is mighty unreasonable, ain't it, Soarin'?" He looked at me.

I blinked. "Uh…"

Braeburn looked over to Fire Streak, and his voice was especially bouncy. "Mister Streak, Ah am eternally indebted for how far you've gone to protect Soarin', but maybe we can all step back from the ledge a bit?" He snickered. "Well, Ah suppose pegasi don't much fear ledges, but ya' get what I mean."

Streak scowled. "I'm not letting him fire Soarin'. Not over this. It's not his fault, and I don't want to work in an organization that shows its captains no loyalty whatsoever."

Braeburn nodded. "Understandable." He gestured to Bottom Line. "But why don't you tell 'em your idea, Mister Bottom Line?"

Bottom Line's forelegs were still crossed. He mumbled, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Braeburn furrowed his brows and pulled back one corner of his mouth. "Now, there ain't no need to be like that. You're a smart pony, Mister Bottom Line, and Ah won't presume to know what bein' in your position's like, but…" He leaned more heavily on the desk. "Ideally, whaddya think we should do? C'mon now, perfect world, no complications. What's your preference?"

Bottom Line paused, then sighed. "Fire Streak would become the captain of the stallion squad. Officially, with no ambiguities. Soarin' would release a statement prepared and approved by the Wonderbolts' official channels of communication exonerating us of any wrongdoing."

Braeburn smirked and said, "Sounds like a nice start. And what would Soarin' get in return?"

Bottom Line looked at me and Streak. "Soarin' could remain a Wonderbolt, but we can't let his behavior slide. He would have to be demoted."

Fire Streak started in. "Hell no. No way will–"

Braeburn closed his eyes and held up hoof. "Hold on, Mister Streak. Let's hear from Soarin'." He looked at me. "Soarin', whaddya think of Bottom Line's proposal?"

I paused.

"Honesty, please, but let's try to be polite." Bottom Line turned to me, and Braeburn discreetly blew me a kiss.

For him, I could do anything, even if it meant swallowing my pride. I sat up straighter and looked at Bottom Line. "It still sounds like he's trying to get rid of me. I worked hard for my rank, and even if I've been screwed up lately, I've had a very successful career so far, and my best years are still ahead of me." If only, right? "I deserve another shot. Plus, if our policy is just to demote ponies whenever the media latches onto them, the whole team will be on edge."

Braeburn turned to Bottom Line. "Those seem like reasonable concerns to me. Is there somethin' we could do to fix it?" When he didn't get an answer, he gestured widely and said, "Anythin'? Mister Bottom Line, Ah'm lookin' at you."

He stared at Braeburn. "I can't put Soarin' back in charge right away."

Braeburn smirked. "But?"

Bottom Line let out a long breath. "But he is correct about his previous record." He looked between Streak and me. "I'm willing to allow Soarin' to keep his rank, but only on probation. Streak would remain the active captain for the time being, and Soarin' would act as a mentor. We'd review the arrangement after one month."

And then Fire Streak interjected with something I didn't expect. "Soarin' gets another shot, though. After he's proven he can reintegrate with the team. He gets to be full-time captain again."

My head turned slowly towards Fire Streak. His eyes were ablaze. Not with anger, but with conviction. He was serious. He was being presented with the thing that every Wonderbolt wanted – fuck, he'd had it in front of him for weeks – and here he was, still fighting for me. I felt small next to him, but at the same time, I felt safe. My eyes widened. 'He's… really doing this, isn't he?'

I remembered what I'd told Braeburn's dad Cortland back in Haulahay: that I'd never had a brother, that I was alone. I'd felt the same way walking to the Academy that day and, well, for years after Dad had died. I think… I'd forgotten what it felt like to have a family. I didn't remember that feeling, what it was like to have somepony care for you unconditionally and stick up for you when you needed it most. I hadn't known that kind of safety for years.

But Fire Streak was teaching me all over again. He was proving to me that he was more than a friend, more than even a best friend. He was my brother, and even if it wasn't big, I still had a family. I still had a home.

Braeburn nodded at Fire Streak. "Now that sounds like a good idea. What do you think, Soarin'?"

Dumbfounded, I nodded.

"Looks like we agree, but of course…" He turned to Bottom Line. "…it's up to you, sir. What do ya' say?"

I was pulled out of my stupor back into the moment. Bottom Line was perfectly still, and he stared directly at me. I held my breath. My wings twitched. His face was motionless, but as still as it was, it betrayed all the motion that was going on in his mind, all the little pieces that would decide my future.

A long pause.

A long breath.

Parted lips.

"Agreed."

And I nearly blacked out.

Braeburn tipped his hat. My ears were ringing, and it took almost all my focus not to grab Braeburn and start kissing him again, but I heard him say, "Well, thank y'all for bein' reasonable. Now, Ah promised Mister Bottom Line Ah'd not take too long, but Ah fear our clock's more than expired, so we'll leave ya' be. Any other orders?"

Bottom Line nodded. "Fire Streak will schedule a meeting this afternoon with the team. Spitfire and I will attend. Plan for an hour. Soarin', report for duty tomorrow morning. I'll assign you an escort to and from your home for the rest of the week. Understood?"

Reflexively, Streak and I both saluted. "Sir, yes sir!"

Braeburn smiled and calmly said, "Alright, then."

He shook Bottom Line's hoof. "Pleasure meetin' ya', and thank ya' kindly for your time. We'll be on our way. Oh, and congrats again on the foal." He casually bowed again and turned away, and we followed him into the hallway. Leaving that room, it felt like gravity had taken a vacation, and I wanted to fly forever. I was completely numb to all the pain and all the worry in the world.

And it was all because of Braeburn and Fire Streak. Braeburn's head was held high, and he moved with a gentle swagger, like the branches of the trees from his orchard, and he was just as sturdy as they were. But he walked quickly, too, all the way back to Streak's office, and he didn't turn when I tried to get his attention.

Braeburn opened the door to Streak's office, and Streak and I rushed inside. Braeburn had a strained look on his face. He gingerly stepped in behind us and coolly kicked the door shut with his rear hoof. His face looked stoic until…

"Huh-uh-uh-uh!" He half-neighed, half-sighed, and completely melted onto the floor. His perfect ass hit the tile, and his body shook. He ripped the hat off his head with a quivering hoof and rapidly fanned himself, and the sweat on his forehead was suddenly super apparent. His eyes were wide as he stared between Streak and me. "Ha! Hahaha!" He laughed between gasping breaths. "Hahaha! Well, that – Hahahah! – that went a hell of a lot better than I'd hoped!"

It felt like a warm thermal breeze was blowing behind me, and I couldn't contain myself as all the numbness flushed out of my body. "I fucking love you!" I leapt onto Braeburn and kissed him over and over, squeezing him tightly. I smothered him. "Braeburn, you were amazing! Holy shit! Holy shit!" My cheeks and the backs of my ears hurt from smiling. "Nopony's changed Bottom Line's mind in, like, ever!"

Fire Streak trotted up to us, too, and he gave Braeburn a big pat on the shoulder. "Celestia's name, Braeburn! We need to hire you as a spokespony or something. That was crazy!"

Braeburn hugged me back, then looked at Fire Streak. "Well, I do what I can. I'm just happy it worked out. Haha!"

"How'd you know Bottom Line had an 'ideal solution'?"

Braeburn snickered. "Aw, hell, that was just a lucky guess. Guys like that always have opinions on everything."

With another quick squeeze, I said, "Luna, you're brilliant." I stood back up. "We're celebrating tonight. Streak, you coming?"

Streak punched my shoulder. "Bro, I'm gonna be the smart one this time. Don't party your ass off the night before you come back to work." He narrowed his eyes and cocked his head back. "If you wanna host after Friday's show, though…"

My eyes opened wide as a bunch of thoughts flashed through my mind. "Dude, totally!" I looked at Braeburn. "We could have everypony over! They'll all want to chill after the show, anyway, and they could all meet you! Sound good, Applebutt?"

He smiled broadly. "I have been missin' the Saturday dances from home…"

"Done! We'll spread the word after practice tomorrow." Braeburn finally stood up, and I hugged him again. "You did great. Thank you so much."

"Any time, Big Blue."

I felt lighter than air, and the back of my neck burned while I turned to face Streak. "And, hey, Streak? I just… Thanks. I'm… not used to having somepony look out for me, and…" My face scrunched up. "Ugh, dammit. I suck at this. I just feel like we're, uh–"

"We're family, Soarin'."

I looked up at his relaxed, smiling face, and I smiled back. Fire Streak always understood me.

Streak spoke slowly with that baritone voice of his. "I mean it. More than just that thing we tell the team whenever they're down." He reached in and hugged me one more time. "We've got you."

I hugged back. "Thanks, brother."

"No problem, brother." He pulled back. "And hey, I'm not the only one that thinks that way." He looked toward the doorway, and our eyes all followed his.

There, in her captain's uniform and with her sunglasses tucked into her breast pocket, stood Spitfire. Smiling. "Welcome back, Soarin'."

Chapter 34 - Settling

* * * * *

Soarin' and I meander down streets of the Cloudsdale neighborhoods, flanked on either side by white houses and the occasional cul-de-sac. The narrow walkways aren't like roads back on the ground. Up here, they're just stretches of clouds that serve more as landing strips. The yards are small, but then again, how much of a yard do foals need to play in when they can fly?

I wonder how Braeburn managed.

We walk about one-and-a-half body lengths apart: not far enough to be awkward, but enough to keep me from getting hit by Soarin's wings. He's still technically walking, but he's flapping his wings erratically to stay upright about once every dozen steps. It's only gotten worse as the afternoon has drug on.

I take a loud breath. It's a great way to get somepony to pause without interrupting them. "Would you like to rest?"

Soarin' glares at me, but then grimaces. "Whaaaaat, you don't like watching me flail around like a drunk owl?" He forces himself to walk more normally, though he winces as he takes his first step. "It's okay. I'm fine."

"Really, it's…" I blow some air out of my lips. "Actually, I think I've learned not to tell you what to do."

He smiles. "Good."

* * * * *

I woke up the next morning when I felt Braeburn roll out of bed. With a flutter of my eyes, I cleared my throat and raised my head a little. The sun was barely up, and my curtains blocked out all but a tiny sliver of light.

Through squinted eyes, I saw a naked Braeburn grab an empty champagne bottle, the one we'd drained during the last night's celebratory cuddle. He picked up the two champagne flutes we'd used, and as they clinked together, his eyes locked onto me. When he saw me watching him, he whispered, "Aw, I was gonna surprise you with breakfast."

"No problem," I said as I dropped my head onto the pillow and fell back asleep.

Dreams are always the most vivid right before you wake up. This one was about Braeburn and me. We were both flying together high above a grassy plain and tightly wrapped in each other's forelegs. Braeburn didn't need wings, and I didn't need anything but Braeburn. We flew closer to the sun as it rose on the horizon, and our bodies started, like, melting together. Behind us, we were leaving a bright rainbow in four colors: yellow, orange, and light and dark blue. They stained the sky like oil paint, thick and textured, and everything smelled like peace.

A few minutes later, I woke up again, this time to more light, open curtains, and a blurry face that slowly formed into the most beautiful stallion in Equestria. He said, "Better get up, Big Blue. Breakfast ain't fancy, but it'll still get cold."

If heaven exists, I bet every day there starts just like that one.

I quickly put on one of my captain's uniforms and trotted downstairs. The warm, comforting smells of breakfast wafted to me as I climbed down the stairs: hot coffee served with fried hay and fried apples, since, like Braeburn said, "Butter was just about the only thing I could find to cook with."

Do I even have to mention how good it tasted?

We ate quickly, but we still made time to talk between bites. Braeburn insisted on it, and even though it was mostly fluff, I didn't mind. As long as I had that soothing voice to ease me back to consciousness, I was happy. As we finished eating, Braeburn said, "Dinner should be a little better. I'll get more ingredients today once I figure out where the store is. Shouldn't be too hard."

I slurped down the last of my coffee. "You know, I could probably hire somepony to deliver everything."

"Nah, I wouldn't want that." Braeburn leaned on the table and turned his head toward the kitchen window, his movements slow and fluid and comfortably groggy. "Whole lotta Cloudsdale out there to explore, and I don't do well when I'm all cooped up. I'm half-tempted to go without that escort the Wonderbolts are sendin' over for me. Think I should wait for 'em?"

I set down my mug and wiped my mouth with a cloth napkin that Braeburn had found tucked in a drawer somewhere. "Yeah, probably. You're still a P.O.I. – sorry, Pony of Interest – so the higher-ups will freak out if you go missing."

"Yeah, I suppose," he said, looking back at me. "Was hopin' it'd be Eagle Eye, but he said he was on assignment with you and that somepony else was gonna swing by for me."

I swiveled my ears towards Braeburn. "Wait, he's here?"

"Uh-huh. He's just waitin' outside." Braeburn jerked his head towards the door. "Invited him in for breakfast, but he was too stubborn. He told me he hadn't eaten, too. Can you believe it?"

I cocked my head back. "Ha! You've been here one day, and you're already bringing other stallions in when I'm not around. Nice." I narrowed my eyes and smirked. "Was it the uniform or the wings?"

Braeburn snickered. "Aw, I was just bein' polite. We've caused him enough trouble, and he deserves to be treated right." He lifted his coffee mug to his lips and mumbled, "Does have a nice pair on 'im, though."

I couldn't keep a straight face. "Heh heh. You're not leaving me already, are you?"

Braeburn set his mug down and smiled. "Well, I certainly ain't gotten bored of you yet, Big Blue."

Warmly, I said, "And you never will." I stood up, trotted over to him, and planted a soft kiss on his forehead. "Thanks for breakfast, babe. Mind if I leave you the dishes?"

He nuzzled my neck. "Consider 'em done. Now, you should get goin' before you're late. Love you, Soarin'."

"Love you, too, Applebutt."

We kissed, shared a long, warm hug, and kissed again before I left.

Outside stood Eagle Eye, looking sharp in a simple blue Wonderbolts uniform that complimented his dark brown fur and cream-colored mane. He stood rigid, keeping a vigil, but he eventually turned to me and saluted. "Good morning, captain." He looked very professional…

…except for the smear of apple on his lips and the empty plate next to him. He flickered his eyes between the plate and me, and I could see him barely chew on his lower lip. "I, uh… didn't want it to go to waste, sir. Mister Braeburn insisted."

I glowed. "He's a great cook, isn't he?"

"Damn straight, sir."

* * * * *

Soarin's walking has gotten a little easier, or at least he's not flapping as much.

I look down the road. I think I see that black-and-orange pony from this morning, but I stay focused. "Did you make it to work on time?"

"Ha! Barely."

* * * * *

By the time Eagle Eye and I had gotten past an extremely loud mob of reporters and onto Academy grounds, my jaw hurt from clenching it so much. I'd kept from saying anything, thankfully, because these were the B-list paparazzi, the ones that hadn't been invited to the press conference where I'd give my big speech. These assholes didn't have anything to lose, and their pushing and lewd questions showed it.

Eagle Eye did a great job, though, and we got onto the grounds safely. He'd told me another pony had been assigned to Braeburn's detail. "But hopefully this will all be short-term." After that, Eagle Eye left to check in with his commanding officer and told me he'd find me at the end of the day.

I reported to the Green Room, where Spitfire and Fire Streak were waiting for me. The hallway still felt too cold and sterile, but at least I had my family with me. Spitfire said, with a weird little bounce in her voice, "Good timing, Soarin'. Smart of you to show up before the other captains. Shows you really care."

I blushed a little. "Thanks, guys." We walked to Bottom Line's office, and I didn't waste any time. I knocked and went in first. "Captain Soarin' Windsong, sir!"

"Come in," Bottom Line said gruffly. Three stools were set up for us, and I sat in the middle. "Let's be quick. First, your checks. If you leave them again, I'm shredding them." He slid them to me, and I put them into my pocket. "Second, your briefing. You'll spend the day training with the stallion squad. You'll be visible to the media, so don't make an ass of yourself. At half past ten, we'll gather in the media room in Easyglider Hall, and you'll read this statement." He tapped a blue file folder on his desk. "Read it exactly. The rest of the meeting, fifteen minutes total, will be for answering questions." He looked at each of us in turn. "All of us here will be present. Understood?" We told him we did, and he slid the folder to me. "Good. Now, let's hear it."

I opened the folder and found a single piece of paper inside. The paragraph that was written on it was short and in Bottom Line's hoofwriting. It was small and crisp. Tiny, but clear. When I couldn't make it out, I squinted at it and brought it closer to my face.

…

The room was quiet.

"We don't have all day, Soarin'," Spitfire said flatly.

I shook out my mane and looked at the paper again.

The room was utterly silent. It was so quiet, I swear I could hear Fire Streak's ears go rigid. "Quit fooling around, bro," he mumbled.

I stared harder, and I felt my heart thump in my chest as my breathing picked up. My hoof tremored. "As… As you are all well… well aware, the lawn – no – last few weeks–"

Bottom Line roared, "Hurry up, Windsong!"

And… And I…

…

* * * * *

Soarin' looks like a wooden toy. His head and neck are rigid, and he walks mechanically. His eyes are on the horizon. He barely blinks. He's swallowing hard and taking quick, deep breaths.

I've seen this look. He's going to break down, but does that mean he's finally going to tell me? Is he even ready?

…

I need him to know it's okay. "Soarin'," I say as gently as I can manage. "Do you have–"

* * * * *

I-I shouted at him, "This doesn't sound like me at all!"

Bottom Line snorted. "Windsong, that verbiage has been officially approved by our legal team. You're going to read it exactly as written."

"It won't sound like me, a-and they'll know it!" I took a deep breath and stopped shaking. "I don't mean to be disrespectful, sir, but I never read anything during interviews. They'll know it's canned and start asking more questions. If I–"

Fire Streak cut me off. "I'll help him with it, sir!" He whipped his head at me and spoke quickly and tersely. "We'll rehearse. We'll rehearse and make it sound natural, and he'll read it exactly." With a quick head bob, he looked around me. "Captain Spitfire, do you mind leading the team alone for the morning?"

Spitfire stared at Fire Streak for a few seconds, her eyes slightly narrowed and her mouth formed into a slight frown. After a short pause, she responded with a colorless, "No problem, captain."

"Fine," Bottom Line grumbled. "We have a few hours until the press conference. Use the time wisely, and don't be late. Dismissed."

We left the office. Out in the hallway, Spitfire stopped and raised an eyebrow at me, but she didn't say anything before she split off to go work with the team. Streak and I walked back to his office in silence. We stepped inside, and as Streak shut the door, he asked in a soft tone, "You okay, bro? That was… a little weird."

"I'm fine." I told myself it was true. I told myself that nothing was wrong and that Bottom Line had terrible hoofwriting. I told myself that I hadn't noticed anything strange at all, even though…

Okay, look. Officially, I didn't know that–

…

Sorry.

It's scary how easy it is to fool yourself. You see all the clues right in front of you, over and over, but you put them out of your mind. You brush over them completely. You think, no, that's not right, that can't be right. Everything's okay. It's all just a big coincidence. There's nothing going on, and if anything seems like it breaks the pattern, it must be an anomaly.

See, you've got this version of yourself inside your head. You want to believe that it's the real thing, that nothing could ever change it, and whenever something challenges that picture you have of yourself, your brain, just, I dunno… rejects it, I guess? And I didn't want to think about it. I didn't want to think about anything.

But Streak looked stiff as he sat down behind his desk. "Let's practice. I'll, uh…" His lips pursed. "I'll read it to you the way I think it should sound, then you can try to make it flow. You never were a great actor, bro." He grimaced at me. I grimaced back.

We practiced, line-by-line, for half an hour. Streak would read part of it to me, and I'd repeat it several times over, trying to match his tone exactly. Once I had it mostly memorized, I was able to make it sound like myself, and I only tried to glance at the page a couple times each read-through.

But Streak was still acting weird. I asked him, "What's up?"

Fire Streak had this look on his face, like when you realize you have to tell a kid that their favorite comic book character isn't real. His nostrils were flaring with his quick breaths, which made his shoulders raise and lower as well. He was frowning. "Soarin', don't you think it's weird?"

Something burned at the back of my skull, but either by reflex or choice – I legit don't know which – I ignored it. "What's weird?"

More heavy breathing. He was staring right at me. "Bottom Line's hoofwriting–"

"Sucks, right?" I laughed. "You'd think somepony that sits on his ass all day could write a few decent lines of text."

Fire Streak didn't laugh. He put both his forehooves on his desk, then looked down. His voice was low, quiet. "You're flying in the show again. Friday." He was matter-of-fact. Flat. Lifeless. He didn't look up. He just kept staring at something in the middle of his desk, and his eyebrows were furrowed. "You're flying on Friday."

My eyes darted around. "Well… yeah, I am." I shrugged. "That's how it's supposed to work, right?" The back of my neck felt hot.

Streak shook his head. "Yes, it is. It's… very important for your career that you fly on Friday." He spoke a little faster, like he was forcing puzzle pieces together even though they didn't quite match up. "And it's better for the team. And the organization. We have no official reason to keep you off the roster. You're in the clear. We can figure everything else out after things stabilize." His head turned to the left. "As long as nothing…" It turned to the right. "No, you need–" He looked up at me. "Soarin', I need an honest answer. How much does this show mean to you?"

It was a question we got asked a lot as rookies. The right answer is "more than air" to show your captain that you'll do your absolute best. Fire Streak wasn't trying to inspire me, though. His voice had too much sadness in it. I just answered honestly, because I knew I could trust him. "Bro, if I can't fly again, I'm done. I wouldn't be able to support Brae and me, and… I'd have nothing. I'd have less than nothing, and I'd be worse off than when this whole shit show started." I turned my head to the side and stared at him. "Why?"

He cast his eyes down again, then back up. "Do you have the speech memorized?" He was using a very direct, captain-y voice.

I nodded and solemnly said, "Yeah. Of course. Thanks for your help."

Fire Streak let out a long breath. "Good. I'm going to crash at your place on Friday night, then take you out to brunch Saturday. Just the two of us, alright?"

"Uh…" I raised an eyebrow at him. "Yeah. Sure! You… you just want to catch up or something?"

Fire Streak paused, took a breath, and looked me in the eye. He smiled as warmly as he could, letting his wings droop and cocking his head to the side. He was letting the tension – everything that had built up over the last few weeks, from problems with the team to me getting cut to the scandal with the media – he was letting it all dissipate into the air so I'd feel safe, so I'd know that things were going to be okay, so I'd know that he would always be there, through thick and thin. He wanted me to know that I could trust him.

Then, he lied to me. "Yeah," he said in his usual low-but-energetic voice. "To catch up. You're dismissed. Stay safe, bro."

And all that tension came rushing back. I saluted, and I left.

And…

And I know you were about to ask me something a second ago, but please don't. Not yet. I… I promise I'll tell you. Soon.

I ducked into the locker room in Purple Dart Hall across the campus. It was strange seeing it so empty, but walking in there and smelling the familiar stench of my teammates filled me with electricity. I hung my captain's uniform in my locker and grabbed one of the folded training suits from a pile near the door. It fit me snugly and clung to my fur, and feeling that tight blue material with the lightning bolt decals was the last piece I needed to get back in the zone.

One thing gave me pause, though. As I walked past the mirror, I saw a little gleam of yellow on my ear: the stud that I'd gotten in Las Pegasus to remind me of Braeburn. I turned my head to look at it, and I felt myself smile. 'He's still with me. Things are finally getting better, and I've got my Appelbutt waiting for me at home. He's always with me.' Was it against Wonderbolt policy to fly with jewelry on? Of course. There was no way that they were going to let me keep it in during the show, but with everything going on during practice that day… "Meh, I'll chance it."

I dashed out onto the training grounds. The main team – all twelve of them, plus Spitfire – was on the plateau, and Spitfire was laying into them about a slow finish to the obstacle course. "The Wonderbolts are under massive scrutiny right now!" she shouted, pointing to a group of media ponies that had been corralled a few dozen meters to the side. Most of them were focusing on my entrance, but plenty were still taking picture of the team. "And my best recruits can't even power through a basic training exercise!" A few teammates flashed glances at me, careful not to move their heads away from Spitfire, but she caught them anyway. "Pay attention! Since you all need a lesson in endurance…" She whipped around to me, just before I caught up to the group. "Windsong!"

I landed crisply, puffed out my chest, and saluted. "Yes, ma'am!"

In a way, it felt good to be on the other side again. I could sense everypony on the team agonizing not to stare at me either out of shock at seeing me back or just to see if I'd get what was coming to me. But you know what they didn't want? For once, they didn't want to be in my position, and as twisted as it was, that felt sweet.

"Eighty laps! Now!"

Sweet for a moment, at least.

Without hesitation, I leapt into the air and started my laps, and the rest of the team lined up as Spitfire critiqued my form. Loudly. She described how I wasn't flapping at maximum efficiency, but she did point out that my stability was top-notch. "Keep it reined in, Windsong! It's not a race!" It was still tough not going at full speed, and having all eyes on me distracted me enough to take a few wide turns, but I was focused. I was going to do it. I would persevere.

And I didn't have to do it alone. As I rounded the last corner of lap twenty-seven, right as the burn settled into my wings, I saw the 'Bolts lining up beside the track on Spitfire's order. Lap twenty-eight, they were in position in the Sunspot takeoff formation. Lap twenty-nine, they had crouched down, all eyes on me.

And as I finished lap thirty, I was met with a swarm of Wonderbolts, Spitfire included, launching and falling into formation in a large ring with me at the center.

I felt all of them. I felt them in front of me and behind me and beside me, and for the first time in week, we flew together as a team. I was already wore-out, but I didn't let up. After ten laps, Spitfire gave the order to break formation, and without that guideline, all we had to go on was each other.

We never stopped pushing. Wave Chill would pull in for a tight turn when somepony wobbled, Fleetfoot would force us to go faster on the straightaways, and Silver Lining expertly maneuvered through the tight spaces between our bodies. It didn't take words. All it took was a slight nod or an extra powerful flap from the pony beside me, and I pushed harder. Spitfire stayed near the front of the pack – she wasn't afraid to remind us that she was the best – and everything clicked.

I knew what Spitfire was doing. She's clever like that. That extra thirty laps? That was my punishment for putting the rest of the team through the scandal, but when it was done, when I'd atoned in front of everypony, she made sure that the whole team moved on, made sure that they knew we soared or plummeted together, as a group. She made sure that they knew: no matter what, if we had the skill and the competitive spirit, we had a place on the team.

The rest of the laps absolutely sucked, though. Those last dozen were the worst, and I felt them in every bone in my body, but we finished. Nopony collapsed at the finish line – we're trained to maintain poise, especially with the media watching – but each of us looked like a stiff breeze could knock us over. Spitfire shouted a ragged, "Great work, team. Workouts are on the usual rotation, and your trainers will tell you about any changes. We'll reconvene at four to go over the modified roster." There must have been some internal screaming at the words "modified roster," but nopony flinched. "Until then, dismissed!"

Shoulders and wings relaxed, and a lot of us allowed ourselves to breathe more heavily. Wave Chill and Misty Fly made a bee-line for the canopied water station, where they guzzled water by the pitcher. Soon, there was a long line behind them that included just about everypony on the team, and we started to bullshit each other while we waited.

Blaze was in front of me. She looked over her shoulder to say, "So, you didn't feel like retiring yet, old mare?"

I snorted a small laugh. "Dude! I'm, like, two years older than you."

"I dunno," came Silver Lining's voice behind me. "Seemed kinda slow on those last few laps." I bit the inside of my cheek, but he gave my ass a bro-slap as we took a step forward in the line. "Nah, just playin', Soarin'. We're glad you're back. Streak won't let us party after the shows like you did."

My chest untwisted, and I found myself smiling as I reached the front of the line. "Meh, different styles. He's been good, though, right?" I grabbed a large bottle of water, opened my throat, and drained it.

Silver Lining stuck out his lip and looked up. "Mm… Yeah. This transition can't be easy on him. Shit's been a little–"

The whole group went silent as Fire Streak landed noiselessly on the grass near us. Ears swiveled towards him, everypony stood up straighter, and their eyes kept flashing between him and the pony that he'd locked his gaze onto: me. I set my empty bottle down on a bench.

Fire Streak marched up to me, tall and proud, his head held high. His medals – even if there weren't many – gleamed in the sunlight. He wore dark sunglasses, and if I had any doubts about whether he commanded respect, they melted away as the team lined up in front of him and on either side of me. He stopped and surveyed us, then paused and addressed the team with a smirk. "You all playing nice with our prodigal flier?"

The whole team shouted, "Sir, yes sir!"

"Good. At ease." The team relaxed. Fire Streak took off his sunglasses and tucked them into his pocket, then gave me a slight smile. He sauntered up to me, and I took a half-step forward. The team didn't blink. Some of them started whispering, and I heard mumbles of "demotion," but most just swished tails or twitched ears. Except for the cool breeze, it was deathly quiet.

I stood up straight. This moment wasn't for me and Streak. It was for the team. They needed to know where everything stood.

Fire Streak said, just loud enough for the team to hear, "You ready to be a team player again, Captain Windsong?" A few more murmurs from the rest of the 'Bolts.

I saluted him. "Sir, yes sir!"

Streak smiled. "Good, because you're a hell of a flier, and your team's missed you, captain." He panned around. "Isn't that right, team?"

They shouted, "Sir, yes sir!"

Streak nodded at me. "Welcome back, Soarin'." He began to stomp his approval, and my heart swelled as the rest of the team joined in. I looked around, and I saw a bunch of determined, tough faces, all of them ready to tackle whatever came next, all of them ready to welcome me back. Misty Fly, Lightning Streak, even Fleetfoot. Maybe they were just relieved that the scandal had seemed to crest, but I didn't care. I was back.

The hoofbeats died down, and so did the camera flashes from the media corral a few dozen meters away. Streak stood up straight again. "Huddle up, team." We came in close, and Streak addressed us in a direct but quiet voice. "This is your official reminder to keep your mouths shut around the reporters. We're handling everything through the official channels in a few minutes, and we'll have a debriefing session tomorrow morning once we've seen how they spin it. If anypony tries to get a quote from you, they've broken away from the group, and you need to call security. That clear?"

We erupted again. "Sir, yes sir!"

"Good. Make me proud, team." He hopped into the air. "Let's go, Windsong."

I saluted. "You got it, Captain."

We took off, and as soon as we were out of earshot of the others, I turned my head towards Streak and said, "You've got this authority thing down, Streak!"

"Learned from the best." He narrowed his eyes at me. "And you helped, too, I guess," he said with a chuckle. But then, he got all stiff again. "You, uh, you still have that speech memorized?"

"I got this, bro." I extended a hoof, and after a moment's hesitation, he bumped it.

We swung by the locker rooms again so I could quickly shower, and I changed back into my captain's uniform. From there, we headed over to Easyglider Hall through the back, and we soon stood outside the side entrance to the media room. Spitfire and Bottom Line were already there.

Bottom Line looked directly at me with furrowed eyebrows – thick, bushy, big-enough-to-knit-a-sweater eyebrows – and spat, "Exactly. As. Written. There's a copy at your seat. You and Captain Spitfire will be in the center. I'll be at your left, and Captain Streak will be at the far right. Clear?"

I nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Good. Let's get this over with."

Streak led the way, and we all walked in, slowly and in single file as the cameras flashed at us. Between the spots in my vision, I could see the familiar media room: dark blue walls with yellow trim, the Wonderbolts' colors exactly. Our seal hung above the rear entrance: a trio of brass fliers and the words "Praemia Virtutis Honores." The room was small and cramped, and it had seats for about thirty ponies. Each of the seats had a reporter, and a few more stood in the back. The air was already getting hot and stale. Our table was draped with a big, velvety banner with our seal, this one trimmed with gold thread.

We took our seats, and Bottom Line put up a hoof. The cameras stopped flashing for just a moment, and Streak, Spitfire, and I remained stoic as Bottom Line started things off. "Thank you for coming. This will be brief. Captain Windsong–" Pencils furiously scribbled on paper as soon as he confirmed that I was still a captain. "–will read a prepared statement. We will then have a few minutes for questions." He turned to me, and I felt those dark eyes on the side of my skull. "Captain Windsong?"

You get into a different mindset with meetings like that. You're a zombie. As long as you're careful not to say anything stupid, then the less you think, the better. The best thing you can do is be bored, so I let everything roll out of my mouth as easily as I could, thankful I didn't have to explicitly say anything about Braeburn. I pretended to read off the sheet of paper in front of me, but I had it memorized. Like, mostly. It was… Like…

I mean, I started out really well. "Thank you for coming today. As you are all well aware, the last few weeks have seen a lot of rumors regarding this organization." I tried not to think about how artificial those words tasted. "I'm here to put an end to them. First and foremost, I am not, nor have I ever been, discharged from the Wonderbolts." To myself, I thought, 'Not that some asshole didn't try,' but then I continued. "Per Wonderbolt policy, I have been taking paid vacation time, to be spent in a way that is pleasing but still upholds the honor of this organization. I am ashamed to say that my conduct has not been entirely professional, but the…"

* * * * *

Soarin's eye twitches as he trails off, and he says, "Look, I… I can skip this part. You know what happened. It's not important. Y-you saw it in the papers, right?"

I pause.

I did see it in the papers, and in fact, I have the clipping with me in my saddlebag. But I don't need it. I have the article memorized, down to the comma.

Soarin' appeared to stumble halfway through his obviously-vetted speech, and after almost thirty seconds of (admittedly very professional) awkward pausing, during which time the other Wonderbolts representatives appeared to stop breathing, Soarin' continued to reaffirm the Wonderbolts' commitment to excellence, to their performers, and to the civilians.

"…Yes." I swallow and shake out my mane. My face feels warm. "Your speech was pretty much what everypony expected. The… questions were fairly standard after that, though they did skew a little invasive regarding your relationship with Braeburn. You and the others were able to deflect them until time ran out." I can feel a lump in my chest that slowly grows larger. "However, you seemed visibly upset by a question about whether the relationship with him was… merely temporary." I flinch and turn my head towards him.

Soarin' stops walking and cocks an eyebrow at me. His eyes widen just a bit, and I have trouble meeting his gaze.

I guess it's my turn to answer an uncomfortable question.

Quietly, he asks, "You were there, weren't you?"

I look at the clouds beneath me. "I'm sorry I asked about Braeburn."

* * * * *

…Huh.

…

Well…

Well, like you said, the answers were pretty canned after that, and Bottom Line cut everything off right at the fifteen-minute mark, as promised. We left the media room, and after we were in the hallway, he pulled me aside. He stared at me for a moment, eyebrows still furrowed. "Adequate," he grunted. It's about as close to a compliment as I could have expected.

I grabbed a quick lunch with Spitfire and Streak in the mess hall. Streak didn't say much, and he seemed really distracted, but Fleetfoot came by to talk for a few minutes. We had to stuff that stupid high-protein muck into our faces as quickly as possible. The taste and texture hadn't ever really bothered me before, but I'd had enough of Braeburn's cooking to be spoiled. We finished eating, and I flew back to the locker room to get changed again. Sweet Luna, I hate when I have to change back and forth so much.

Practice was a breeze that day. Not, like, physically. Hell no. It's amazing how out of shape you can get in just a month or so. I was still an awesome flier, though, and I pushed through. The whole team did, and my exercise group made it through the precision courses, some take-off drills, and the Dizzy-Tron. There wasn't a lot of mental strain, which was a nice change, and I spent the whole day focused on being a better Wonderbolt, just like how it's supposed to be.

At the end of the day, Spitfire gathered us all to read off the roster. "Mares, no change from last week, but I don't want to see any more slacking in the second act. Stallions, one change." Our fur prickled. "Sightseer, we want you to rest this week after that clipped wing at the last show. Don't think we didn't notice."

"Aw," came a groan from somewhere behind me. "Captain, with all due respect, I completed all my stunts, and almost nopony noticed. I'm fine!"

Spitfire quickly picked him out of the crowd. "Unacceptable, Sightseer. Wonderbolts are only permitted to fly when they're at their best. You've been around long enough to know that. You're lucky we didn't take disciplinary action, so take the night off, heal up, and work on your spirals. When you can perform them better than a school-colt, we'll know you're good to fly."

"Yes, ma'am," Sightseer responded half-heartedly. I looked back at him. He frowned slightly, but he still had that fire in his eyes. It's that vigor that lets you know somepony hasn't given up yet. Sightseer was one of the older Wonderbolts. He had a gray coat that complimented his mane and tail, which were streaked with different shades of lavender. He was always willing to help out when we trained the new reserves, but he hadn't had many chances to fly in the main shows. Besides Streak, he'd probably benefitted most from my absence.

Spitfire nodded stiffly. "Soarin' will be taking your slot this week." I snapped to attention, and a few eyes shot to me. I could see out of my periphery, though, that Sightseer was unshaken. Spitfire continued. "Excellent work today, team. We'll go over the routines tomorrow morning. Dismissed!"

The team saluted again, and after a few more moments to recover from our workouts and to finish up conversations, everypony began to scatter. Something inside me tugged on me, though, and I found myself walking towards Sightseer, who was doing some post-workout stretches. "Hey, Sightseer?"

He stood up from his crouching position, folded his stretched-out wings, and turned to me. "Hm? Oh, uh, yes, captain?"

I shook my head. "Permission to speak freely, Sightseer. I'm not looking for formality."

"Got it," he said, nodding. He held out a hoof, which I shook. His voice was a low tenor and a little nasally, but I always admired the way he enunciated. "It's good to see you back, Soarin'. We were worried about you. Worried about the direction the team was heading, too, I suppose."

I looked away for a second. "Thanks. And hey, sorry about the switch in the lineup. I know how much it sucks to be cut at the last minute, and, like…" I was trying to come up with something sincere that didn't sound condescending. "I want you to know that you're a really great flier. I didn't want to–"

Sightseer held up a hoof. "Thanks, but let me stop you right there, Soarin'." His voice was gentler than I'd expected, and he was smiling. "You don't need to worry about me. I admit, I haven't had as many headliner shows as I've wanted, but I'm still proud of my accomplishments. Family is, too, and that's what matters." He shrugged. "And heck, Captain Spitfire's right: I broke the rules and flew when I knew I wasn't in the best condition. I made the decision to fly when it was dangerous, and it came back to bite me. These things usually do."

I laughed. "Ha! Yeah, they're pretty inevitable. You just gotta keep those mistakes from getting in your head. That'll really screw you up."

Sightseer took a deep breath and looked up at the sky. "But I'll get another shot, and I don't mind making way for you this week." He looked back at me. "It'll be good for everypony's morale, and I'll still be cheering from the stands. Heh. As long as I'm still invited to drink myself stupid at your place on Friday," he said with a wink.

My feathers tingled, and the sunlight felt warm on my face. "Dude, I wouldn't have it any other way. You're a great guy, and I think Braeburn will really like you, too. I hope you get a chance to talk to him."

"I'm looking forward to it. M' wife's sending her famous taco dip, and she's taking the fillies over to her parents' place for the weekend." He looked at something behind me for a second. "You know, I always shower at home. We're flying the same way, and if you don't mind the company, I'd love to catch up. Seems like forever since we've talked stallion to stallion."

It's amazing how the little things can really strike you and stop you dead in your tracks: a warm slice of pie after you crash in an orchard, a teammate wanting a friendly talk, or even just finding your lover napping again when you get home. I think there's a part of us that realizes how important these moments are. Otherwise, how would you ever notice them?

I smiled. "I'd like that."

We quickly found Eagle Eye – he was just waiting to the side while our conversation finished – and we took off. Eagle Eye let us know the media were gathering in the south for a few more pictures, so we left the grounds from the north. The flight was short, but it gave us enough time to catch up a little. I gave Sightseer a few more details about the scandal, and he told me what Bottom Line had left out of his version of the story. Sightseer talked about what it had been like for everypony at the Academy, and Eagle Eye chirped in every once in a while, too. Sightseer said Fire Streak had been doing a pretty good job, even if the first week had been pretty rocky. Then… he talked about his daughters for a while, and we had, like, a normal conversation. Maybe it was a mass attitude change – Sightseer said that seeing another 'Bolt get promoted gave everypony hope – or maybe it was just that I wasn't active captain that week, but it felt… nice. It was the kind of thing I wanted more of, the thing that I'd been missing at work for months. I realized that I could build back this type of relationship with Sightseer, Fleetfoot, and the rest of the 'Bolts, and I vowed to myself to see it through. For all those months that I'd been stuck in a rut, the only thing holding me back had been me, and it took meeting a yellow earth pony for me to get over myself.

Thanks, Braeburn.

Sightseer and Eagle Eye split off once we got to the Sunrise Estates. I spiraled down to our condo, landed right in front of the door, threw it open, and shouted, "Goooood evening, beautiful! Daddy's home!"

I'd fully expected to smell something cooking, but all I found was the musty air of my condo. A moment later, though, I heard an excited, "Soarin'!" from the parlor. As I wandered into the entrance hall, the couch squeaked, and Braeburn galloped over to me. "Aw, welcome home, Big Blue!" He ran his body against mine, and even though I was still in my flight suit, I could feel the warmth radiating from him. He kept nuzzling me and kissing me all over.

I chuckled. "Miss me much?"

"Oh, like you wouldn't believe," he said with a sigh as we both meandered into the kitchen. "Jeez, sorry, I was really hopin' to have dinner ready for you right as you walked in. Musta dozed off. Sorry about that." He was talking quickly, and he seemed tense. His words were even more clipped than usual as we both sat at the kitchen table. "First day I'm able to contribute, and here I am, sleepin' it away. Pardon if I seem a little blunt. Bit of a headache." He started massaging his temples. A small patch of his mane was stuck to his forehead with sweat. "And now I'm sittin' here bitchin' about it. Sorry, Soarin'. Again. I should be hearin' about the Wonderbolts." He sat up and took a deep breath. "How'd it go? They welcomed you back, right?"

I consciously relaxed my wings and spoke slowly. "Yeah. My day was good. And Applebutt, you can bitch all you want." I rolled my eyes. "Luna knows I've done it enough to you."

He shook his head. "I'll be fine."

"Braeburn…" I glared and stiffened my lips, then touched my hoof to his. "It sounds like you're doing that thing where you're not telling me when you're not happy. Are you doing that thing where you're not telling me when you're not happy?"

He looked at my hoof, then paused. "Yeah. Sorry. Just didn't want to worry you."

I felt a little pang in my chest. "Applebutt, I can take it." I brought his hoof up to my lips and kissed it. "What's up?"

Braeburn searched my face for a few seconds, then began slowly. "Rough day. Head's still spinnin', actually." He looked down and flicked at the corner of the table with his free hoof. "Guess I just wasn't prepared for city livin'. I'll tell ya', things sure ain't as accessible for non-fliers as I'd hoped. Rainbow Drop's a nice pony." He looked up. "Sorry, Rainbow Drop's the escort that the Wonderbolts sent over. You know her?"

I nodded and squeezed his hoof. "Yeah. She's on and off the main squad, but she mostly sticks to the secondary team."

"Well, she was very nice, but she couldn't really do much once we'd stepped off the property and the paparazzi found us. She didn't really know a good way to the grocer, either. Not one for somepony that can't fly, at least, and it felt like it took a month of Sundays just to get there, especially through the swarm of cameras. It felt…" He thought for a moment and rolled his tongue around his mouth. "…belittling, I guess is the word. She had a sour look on her face, just full of pity, and I can't stand feelin' like such a burden, Soarin'." He was staring to pick up the pace again, and he gestured at nothing with his hooves, tearing one away from mine. His voice had gotten louder. "And then the produce wasn't any good, and they didn't have the herbs I wanted, and there were all these other ponies that kept asking if I was me once they saw all the paparazzi, and I-I just started lyin', saying I was somepony else – which I was mighty uncomfortable with – but nopony believed it, anyway, and then the manager had to come over, and she looked all annoyed like it was my fault that every customer in the store had gathered 'round, and it was so embarrassin', Soarin'! Big ol' crowd again, and I wished…" His lips pursed for a second, and he glanced away from me. "Not to make you feel guilty, but I wanted my Big Blue there to wrap me up in his wings and get the cameras off me."

My body wanted to freeze, but I forced myself to grab his hoof again. I wouldn't let him feel alone. "I'm sorry, Brae. I'm here now."

He shook his head and looked down again. "So there was that whole adventure, and then we tried to stop for a late lunch, but we couldn't find a place that was even remotely private, and sweet Celesita, Soarin'! Those fuckin' cameras! We ended up skippin' lunch altogether, and I was getting' frustrated because I was bein' stupid and had my heart set on this stir-fry recipe my granny always liked. I insisted Rainbow Drops take me to a better store to finish my shopping, and she did, bless her, but that was a whole ordeal, too! And by the time we were done with that, we had to head back, since she had to report in, and I didn't even find the hardware store, let alone get to fixin' your furniture." He took a shuddering breath. "It was just a lot of little things. Lotta fuckin' fuss over a lotta little things, and I didn't accomplish nearly what I'd hoped to," he said with a frown. "Just gotta get used to the pace of it all, I guess." He covered his face with his hooves and mumbled, "Gonna be a rough week or two."

I stood up, walked around the table, and wrapped him in a wing. I felt hollow. "Sorry, Applebutt," I said softly. There was a needling in my chest, a little feeling that told me I should give up flying and just stay with him forever. "How do I help? I'll make it better. Do you…" I gulped. "Do you want me to cook dinner? You can go back to sleep if you want."

Braeburn groaned. "You're sweet, but no. I wanna feel like I at least got somethin' done today, and it'd be miserable to just stew and think about all this anymore." He took a deep whiff of my chest, which tickled. "One thing comes to mind, though."

My eyes dropped to look at him as quickly as I could. "Name it."

"If you don't mind eatin' dinner a little later, well…" He looked up to me with big, glistening green eyes. "I really want my big, sweaty pegasus to carry me upstairs and make me forget all my troubles for a while. Think you could do that for me, love?"

I pulled back and gave him the brightest eyes and widest smile I could manage. He needed it, and for the first time in months, I had some extra happiness to give. I kissed his nose and said, "Just try and stop me."

Chapter 35 - Normal

Wednesday was… normal.

It still feels weird describing it that way. There were no big problems and no major confrontations. Sure, the media was still all over me at the bank while I cashed my check – thank Luna for security – but they'd gotten their story, and we'd done a great job spinning it into something mundane. Practice went well, and I got to be a Wonderbolt, with all the highs and lows that came with it. It was… normal, just like I remembered, all except for the pony back home that made a world of difference.

Thursday was great, too. I was being phased back into the show slowly, not too differently from a rookie. I was mostly going to be in the second act – relief for everypony but the other captains, who flew during the whole show – but I was still going to be in the opening and the finale. Given what had happened, I couldn't complain.

I mean, I did complain, but I shouldn't have.

I started socializing again, too. Practice was still intense, but at lunch, I sat with Wave Chill, Silver Lining, Misty Fly, and Fleetfoot, and they wanted to hear all about the scandal. I kept it classy: I only called the media ponies "fuckers" a dozen times or so. When I saw Fire Streak, I tried to wave him over, but he pretended he didn't see me and went to sit with Spitfire.

Afternoon practice went flawlessly, too, and I had the routine completely memorized. After I stopped by the front office to pick up a little gift for Braeburn, Sightseer and Eagle Eye flew home with me again, and we talked more about all the weird stuff that had gone down. It was mostly smaller stuff, since we'd covered all the big things already. It was a good conversation, but I felt a heavy weight in my stomach when I realized I hadn't gotten to talk to Fire Streak about it yet.

But that wasn't totally my fault. Streak had been cagey and distant that week. Besides lunch, he kept finding excuses not to talk to me, and whenever I tried to find him, it was like he'd vanished. I thought about asking Spitfire about it, but historically, she hasn't reacted well to playground-level tattling. In the end, I decided to chalk it up to him being professional and busy with the show. I didn't actually believe it, but I told myself that's what it was.

I was breathing pretty heavily when I split off from the others over the Sunrise Estates. I was still in my tight, spandex flight suit, the blue one with the yellow bolts that we wear for the shows. Drenched in sweat, it clung to my skin, and even though it was a little constricting, I appreciated how tightly it hugged my muscles. Made them really pop out, you know? You should try one on sometime.

…though, pro tip: don't get as fat as I have since the accident. Seeing yourself with a big gut in a tight suit is a real buzzkill.

My wings ached as I swooped down to the front door. I'd taken the facemask off, and it hung at my neck next to my goggles. I opened the door and trudged into the hallway, still catching my breath. The condo smelled like adhesive, and I heard a hammer fall onto a large block of wood in the parlor. Sneaking in, I saw a sweaty, sexy Braeburn sitting next to the couch and hammering on the foreleg rest. His mane was matted and sticking to his forehead, and with each swing of the hammer, his muscles tightened up and made my suit feel just a little more snug.

Smiling, I hovered silently closer. I thought about scaring him, but Braeburn caught me out of the corner of his eye and perked up. "Hey there!" He set down the hammer, stood up, and wiped some sweat from his forehead. "Didn't hear you sneak in!" As I landed on the floor, he surveyed the furniture. "Wasn't quite able to match the wood, and the chair might be a little slap-dash for the party tomorrow, but it should do. Oh, shoot! There I go again, yammerin'. How was your day, Big Blue?" He came up to me and kissed my nose. Then my mouth. Then he… kinda just kept going.

"Good!" I mumbled as he nibbled on my lower lip. "I finally got the details for the routine. I'm mostly gonna be in the second half of the show, aaaand..." I pulled back, reached into my pocket, and withdrew the two tickets I'd picked up at the office. "I'm gonna have a coltfriend in the best seats in the house!"

Braeburn's smile widened. "No foolin'? Aw, that's sweet of you. Thanks, Big Blue." He leaned in and kissed me again, then looked at the tickets. "Wow, these are good! These the reclining seats?"

I nodded proudly. "Uh-huh! Gotta have my coltfriend comfortable while I blow his freaking mind! I was actually gonna get you backstage passes, but management's still a little iffy about giving them out right now. I'm totally getting you passes for the rest of the shows, though."

Braeburn sat down and stared at the tickets in his hooves. "You're a real sweetheart, Soarin'. Thank you!" He flicked the tickets together. "I see two of 'em, though. Got anypony else in mind?"

"Yeah!" I sat down in front of him. "You and Holli got along really well, and she hasn't been to a show in a while." I shrugged. "And, I mean, she's helping with the party prep, so why not, right?"

"Heh heh. We'll make a gentlecolt outta you yet." Braeburn set the tickets on the coffee table, then wiped his forehead again. "Hoo! Really shoulda grabbed a towel." Then, he paused and looked at me with narrow eyes and a sly grin, and his voice became smooth and sultry and husky. "Especially since somepony's needs his daily pie." I felt a chill go down my spine. "How would you like it?"

My eyes widened, and I grinned. "Weeeeeell, the couch is fixed…"

"Heh heh. Long as you don't mind helpin' clean it afterwards." Braeburn poked my chest. "And I swear to Celestia, I will raise hell if you break it again."

We took it slowly that time, and Braeburn even worked the couch like those guys in Las Pegasus had. It got really, really hot, and when I couldn't get my flight suit off fast enough for Braeburn, weeeeell… I'm just lucky that those things aren't too expensive.

But it wasn't just that it was hot. Our love-making evolved in those days. Since we finally had a safe, quiet space to ourselves in the parlor, we didn't have to rush, and since our love for each other was always deepening, the way I acted and felt changed. It grew.

My only goal, the only thing on my mind, was giving him as much pleasure as possible. That's what you have to understand about love. We were doing so much more than exchanging groans and body heat and endorphins. We were bonding. Everything he did made me feel like I was in heaven, but even that paled compared to knowing that I was doing the same for him. It's the most intense pleasure I've ever found: giving yourself totally over to somepony you love, dedicating every synapse and muscle sinew to making them happy, and them doing it for you, and all of it spiraling infinitely outwards until it's encompassed your whole perception.

And being with him made me feel like I had control. Not control like, you know, being dominant, but like I finally had control of my life. I felt big. I felt powerful. I'd made it through the loneliness and months of unease, and there I was: back on top of the world with the stallion I love.

When we finished, I rolled off of the couch and onto my back on the floor. I felt hot, and the shredded remnants of my suit weren't helping, but I was too tired to take it off. The pain in my legs from keeping such an awkward position on the couch finally caught up to me, too. My wings still ached from practice, my back killed, and I could only imagine what Braeburn was feeling after the acrobatics we'd put each other through. Still, I held my forehooves up and said through labored breaths, "Cuddle… Cuddle me."

The couch creaked a little as Braeburn stepped off of it. I peeked up and saw him stretch out his neck, "Aw, Soarin', I'm a sweaty mess."

I flopped back down. "Don't care. You're never too sweaty to cuddle me, Applebutt." When I didn't hear movement, I paused, then ripped off a large section of my flight suit: the area that covered my belly. The cool air felt a thousand times better, and I held up the ripped-off fabric. "You can… use this."

Braeburn hobbled over, wiped his brow off with the fabric, and lay down next to me. "Mm…" He squeezed me, and his scent hit my nose and made my head swim all over again. "Lotta fun, Soarin', but, uh… I think my back needs to recover before we try somethin' like that again."

I kissed his forehead. "I fucking love you, Braeburn."

He snuggled closer. "Love you, too, Soarin'. More than you know."

"Same, Applebutt." I squeezed him tighter, took a deep smell of his mane, and wanted to hold him forever. I was in heaven.

It was just us. Together.

And after a quiet moment, he asked, "Soarin'?"

I sighed and thought about how gentle his voice was. "Yeah, Braeburn?"

He shifted. "Why the hell did we end up on the floor? My back's killin' me enough as it is."

"I dunno…" He was right. My wings were starting to fall asleep, and my spine ached. "Do you… wanna move?"

Braeburn paused, took a deep breath, and hugged me closer. "Not really."

I smiled. "Me neither."

After we'd taken a short nap and cleaned up, we cooked dinner together: fresh pot pies, since Brae had gotten some good produce and wanted to use it all up. Plus, it let me use another one of the recipe cards he'd given me on our date. I grabbed the small, metal box from the cupboard and tried to find the card. Something was wrong, though. I stood at the kitchen table, blinking at the cards and trying to focus, but I couldn't make out Braeburn's hoofwriting. Like, I knew they were recipes, but I… I kept wondering why the first recipe in the box had such… weird ingredients. 'Six trowels of… whale?'

Braeburn caught me staring. "Havin' trouble? It's just alphabetical." He walked over, fished the card out of the box, and set it on the table.

There were two parts to the recipe. I squinted at the top section. "Crust – Extra Fake."

Braeburn was moving bowls from the cupboards to the counter. "Ha! That's flakey, you dope."

I blushed. "Oh. Uh, duh." I laughed nervously. "Sorry, I think I'm just tired. I get to make the crust again, right?"

Braeburn already had the flour for me. "Eeyup! Figure you did so well on the dessert, might as well have you master pastries." He kept talking as he retrieved more bowls and utensils from the cabinets and drawers. "This one just has a little more butter and a little less sugar than the last, and we'll need to roll 'em out a little thinner. Other than that, it's pretty much the same." He brought everything to the wooden table in the center of the room and kissed me. "But I'm makin' you try somethin' new next time, so don't think it'll be pies from here on out."

I could feel the warm spot on my lips where we'd kissed, and if anything was on my mind, it melted away. "You got it."

Braeburn prepped the filling, which was a mix of peas, carrots, potatoes, onions, and a few other vegetables in thick cream sauce. He gave me even more freedom than on our date, and you know what? Even though it took a long time and I did most of it from memory, I got the dough right on the first try! Seriously! I started prancing in place for a few seconds when I realized I'd done it, only stopping when I heard Braeburn chuckle behind me. I rolled out the dough right away, and even though I tore part of it, I just patched it up, and soon, I was cutting out the circles and lining these little tins that Braeburn had bought. With my head held high, I turned around to him and asked, "So, what next?"

With a small mountain of ingredients next to him, Braeburn was finishing peeling the carrots, and little pieces of… I dunno, carrot skin? Little pieces of carrot skin were flying into the garbage can. He focused on the carrot in his hooves as he said, "Well, you need to roll them out. If you need help…" He looked at me, and his face lit up. "Well, I'll be!" His tail whipped behind him as he set the carrot and the peeler down on the counter and came to inspect the crusts. "Jeez, and hardly a tear in 'em!" He wrapped a hoof around me, and I felt my chest puff up. "And here I thought I'd have plenty of time! Great work, Big Blue." He kissed the side of my face. "Real proud of you. We'll make a chef of you yet."

You know, I can't cook for myself much these days, but I still make those pot pies once a week.

I peeled and diced the rest of the vegetables while Braeburn made the cream sauce, and we assembled the pies together. We had about an hour while they baked, so we sat on the couch in the parlor and snuggled. Braeburn still smelled like sex, and I felt the little jolt in my spine as he rubbed his head under mine. I wrapped a wing around him and asked, "You doing better, Brae?"

He tensed up just a little, then relaxed. "Eh, yeah," he finally sighed. His voice was mellow and trailed off at the ends of his sentences. "Yeah, think so. Glad I've had this party to occupy my time. Not really sure what I'll do next week."

I hugged him. "You can do whatever you want, Applebutt."

He scoffed and muttered, "Not quite."

It was my turn to flinched. "W-what do you mean?"

Braeburn looked into my eyes and waved a hoof. "Sorry, sorry." He rubbed my chest with that same hoof. "Came out a little harsher than I intended. What I meant to say was… well, what I really want to do is sit back in my office in Appleloosa and catch up on paperwork. Silverstar's never been great about keepin' up with it, and the Ministry of Agriculture is gonna need that monthly report in the next week or so, and I don't have anythin' to report because, well, I haven't been there." He rested his head on me. "And I really wish Slate and I could just talk a little. About the orchard, about the town, anything."

Thoughts started bubbling up to the top of my mind, thoughts of Braeburn stepping off a train and into the forelegs of a pegasus that wasn't me, but I pushed them back down. I wasn't going to let them get to me. I was going to be a good coltfriend.

Or… at least I tried to be.

I spoke quickly. "Brae, you can totally use my office if you need to, and…" I tried not to make a face. "You trust Slate, right? Like, he won't give out my address to anypony else, right? He can mail stuff here."

Braeburn shook his head gently. "He wouldn't give it out. And thanks, Big Blue. That'll help. I…" He paused and looked up at me, then nuzzled my chest. "I know you're worried about Bronze, but Slate's trustworthy. It'll be okay."

"…Yeah. Good," I said stiffly.

'Off the train, back with Bronze.'

"I do wish I knew what he was doin', though." Braeburn stiffened up. "Slate said he'd mind the orchard for me, and he's got a good head, but he ain't a farmer."

I shook my head and cursed myself for not listening more closely, but that thought wouldn't go away. 'Back in Appleloosa. Back with Bronze.'

He talked faster. "And Bronze'd certainly be offerin' every day to 'help out,' and I know Slate would watch out for me and the orchard and the town, but he's just one pony. And Bronze is… well, I have to wonder if he's been in my house. I don't think he'd break in, but I… I-I just don't know."

My breaths became quick and shallow. 'Back with Bronze. Not with me.'

"It's a scary feelin'. There's a lot I don't know, and it'd all be easier if I could just be home again, just for a little while. I'd love to see home again."

My heart stopped. 'But… this is supposed to be his home. Is he… trying to leave me?'

"Wouldn't be that hard, I suppose, and I do miss the grass and the trees. Especially the trees."

I tried to tell myself I was being nuts. I tried to tell myself that Braeburn had chosen me. That he was here, wrapped up in my wings, and I had nothing to fear. But you can't fight fear with logic, and I saw it all again: Mom slamming the door. Dad's casket. The Wonderbolts' roster with my name missing.

Braeburn going back to Bronze.

My throat tightened, and I stared out at nothing. 'He's trying to leave me.'

Braeburn kept talking. "Maybe late next week, after your show. I could take the train out for the weekend, just for a few–"

"No."

We both flinched that time, shaking a little at the loud finality in my voice. The room suddenly felt icy and deathly quiet.

Braeburn pulled his head back and started at me wide-eyed. "I-it was just a suggestion!"

I shivered, and I had trouble looking at him. "Shit! I'm sorry, Brae. I-I didn't…"

A long beat passed.

I sighed. "Sorry. I get it, but I'm worried." I pulled him into another hug and wrapped a wing tightly around us. A bunch of words spilled out of my mouth, and these days, I tell myself I believed them. "It's not safe for you to travel yet. There's still too much attention on us." I could feel Braeburn's heartbeat. It was fast, but it was slowing. "You're safer here. With me. You're safer here with me. We're better off together."

There was another pause, one that seemed like it dragged on for minutes, but then Braeburn snuggled into me and sighed, "Yeah, you're probably right." His voice was low and mixed with resignation, and I'm embarrassed at how relieved I was that he'd given up so easily.

Braeburn added, "I'll write a few letters this weekend. Maybe Saturday when you're at brunch with Fire Streak." Braeburn knows how to change the subject when necessary. He's kind like that. Or maybe he's just had a lot of practice defusing anger. "Has he let on what he wants to talk about?"

I sighed, and as I focused on the new conversation, my pulse stopped pounding in my head. "Nah. He's been super distant this week. Hope he's okay. We'll catch up at the party, though. Speaking of which…" I nudged his head with my nose. "We've got a half-practice tomorrow. I'll be home around noon. I can't eat much, and I'll need to be at the stadium by five for orders and preening. The 'Bolts have a taxi and escort set up for you, me, and Holli. I wanna help out, though, so, like, leave something easy for me, 'kay?"

Braeburn smirked. "We'll have to be quick, then."

"Yeah, sorry. I'm planning on just setting up my sound system and letting everypony play what they want. Shouldn't take too long, so I could help you out for an hour, maybe? I have to get dressed, too."

Braeburn kissed my shoulder, then nibbled on it. "No, I mean we'll need to be quick." He was giving me the bedroom eyes. "Holli's comin' over around one, and I'd hate to send you to a show without your pie. Better not be late, Slick."

I felt my wings getting stiff again.

Dinner was delicious, and we went to bed early that night. Braeburn didn't bring up my outburst again, and neither did I. I lay in bed and tried not to think about it.

Which… is the best way to keep thinking about it.

Same scene, over and over and over again. Braeburn getting off the train, Bronze waiting on the platform, and Braeburn throwing himself at him. Bronze wrapping Braeburn up in his wings and calling him "Applebutt." And me? I wasn't anywhere. I was nopony. I was alone, back at home, lying in my bed, unable to sleep and with nothing but my thoughts keeping me company.

And that fantasy was feeling uncomfortably close to my reality.

I quietly groaned and dragged my forehooves down my face, stretching out my cheeks. Even after some deep breathing and shifting around in bed, I couldn't get comfortable. My back hurt. My shoulders felt strained. My tongue felt awkward in my mouth. I flopped back onto my side, groaned again, and waited for the thoughts to roll back in.

Braeburn. Train. Bronze.

I had to keep looking back to remind myself that Braeburn was still there. I couldn't see his face, and I felt a small pang in my heart.

I kept tossing around and repositioning myself for almost an hour, and eventually, I accidently brushed Braeburn's face with my wing. He slowly sucked in a deep breath, then lifted his head slightly and looked back at me. His voice was raspy, and he slurred his words. "Still up, Big Blue?"

Turning back to him, I whispered, "Y… Yeah. Sorry."

"S'okay," he mumbled, eyes falling back closed. "Anythin' I can help with?"

'Promise you'll never leave me?' I chided myself for that thought. I knew somewhere inside that I was being paranoid, but the bed still felt big and empty, and I shivered like a foal. I didn't like him facing away from me. I needed him closer. Meekly, I asked, "Can I spoon you?"

Braeburn gave me a half-asleep chuckle, then said, "Sure," and lay his head back down on the pillow.

My heart warmed, and as I scooted closer and pressed my stomach against his back and my nose into his mane, I felt all the little knots in my brain start to untangle. His chest rose and fell in my embrace, and after a few seconds, we breathed together, perfectly in sync. I smelled his mane until everything else melted away, and just like that, the darkness filled the edges of my vision. My muscles relaxed, and my whole body felt at peace.

Just before I fell asleep, I kissed Braeburn at the base of his ears and whispered to him, "Thanks. Love you, Applebutt."

"Love you, too, Soarin'. Now get some sleep."

Holding him close, I let the rest of the world slip away.

I didn't have any nightmares that night, and I didn't move again until morning.

But… I woke up alone in bed. Panic gripped me like a manticore on a baby sheep, but it started to subside once I smelled fruit and bread from downstairs. I stood up, shook off the sleepiness, and took a quick shower before heading down.

Braeburn had made these little pastries with fruit jelly folded inside, and when I came down, he was just finishing mixing some white frosting to put on top. Just before we ate, he used the frosting to make this little picture of the two of us kissing on his pastry. I tried to draw us having sex on mine, but it got really messy, so I just covered the rest of the picture with frosting and called it the aftermath. Braeburn laughed at that, and my fears from the previous night melted away for a while. It's amazing how big the little things can be.

Friday's practice was pretty standard for a pre-show. We did warm-ups and some light agility training, then took turns going through our physical exams, which I passed with flying colors. Once those were done, we were free to go. Sightseer and Wave Chill said they were excited for the party again, and after I asked everypony to bring snacks and booze – like that was something to worry about – I made my way home, Eagle Eye in tow. We were tailed by a small crowd of paparazzi trying to get a comment, but c'mon, they don't hire Wonderbolts because we're pretty – not just because we're pretty, anyway – and Eagle Eye dropped me off without any real problems.

When I walked in, the house was completely silent. "Braeburn?" No answer, but I saw his hat sitting on the railing. As I approached it, I saw his vest on the top stair. "Oh," I said, smiling. I was already getting excited. I walked upstairs and saw a bottle of lube just outside the door to our bedroom. I picked it up, then slowly opened the door and poked my head it. "Braeburn?"

Sweet Luna, those curves! He was on his back, looking at me coyly and on full display. He cooed at me, "You're late, Big Black. Why don't you come over here and make the wait worthwhile?"

So, yeah, I got my pre-show pie. And it was tasty.

We'd barely cleaned up when we heard a knock on the door. Braeburn rushed to open it, and from the top of the stairs, I saw Holli walk in with a few grocery bags. "Afternoon, Cutie!"

"Come on in!" Braeburn said, taking her bags. "Nice to see you again, Ms. Holli. Would you like me to show you around?"

"Well, look at you, already settled. No tour necessary, Braeburn, though I am curious how you did with the furniture." She spotted me coming down the stairs. "Mind if I take a look, Soarin'?"

I hovered down. "What, no 'Sugar'?"

She winked at Braeburn. "Not in front of the coltfriend."

Holli sauntered into the parlor, hips wiggling, and took a quick look at the furniture. "Nice work," she said with a nod. Satisfied, she and Braeburn walked into the kitchen and started cooking. Meanwhile, I spent an hour so getting the sound system set up, complete with a few multi-colored gem lamps for some extra flair. It would have been quicker, but I kept poking my head into the kitchen to see what those amazing smells were. Holli and Braeburn would giggle and shoo me away, and as much as I wanted a stay, it was great hearing Braeburn laugh so much with somepony else.

After the music was set up, I helped mix some kind of salty mush that went with these little toast point things, and then I washed dishes up until around four-thirty, when it was time to get dressed.

Up in our bedroom, I stood in front of the full-length mirrors that made up my closet doors. Carefully, I put on my crisp captain's uniform, complete with a perfectly-tied black tie, and took a second to admire the patches and medals. There were awards for the big milestones: three years of being a captain, five years of service, a hundred main squad shows… but there were a couple for actual accomplishments, too, like the round one I got for that charity show I'd organized for the Cloudsdale Youth Shelter.

I fixated on that one.

It had actually been Streak's idea, kind of. Like, I'd been really down for over a month, since… well, since Dad had died. I'd only been a captain for a couple months, and as much as the management encouraged me to take more than a few days' bereavement time, I couldn't. I couldn't sit at home, alone, thinking about it. I had to keep pushing myself. On the days I exhausted myself, I was super annoyed that I had to go over to Dad's place and box up his stuff, and if I was annoyed, I couldn't be sad, and I wouldn't think about it, and…

And it had started getting to me. I knew I had to perform at the top of my game to establish myself as the new captain, but all the stress had worn me down. Streak kept prodding me in the locker room to get a different project, something to break the monotony, and after about a week, I finally settled on helping out the Youth Shelter.

I… I didn't want any more foals to feel abandoned.

The event was a long day of autographs, photos, and mini-shows in downtown Canterlot. The streets were packed with fans and ponies just trying to go about their day, and a few times, security had to keep fights from breaking out in the crowd. By the end of the day, I'd probably put in four hours at the autograph table, my hoof was killing me, my signature had devolved into a bunch of scribbles, and I desperately needed some coffee. I decided to just stick it out, though, and I'm glad I did.

Towards the end of the line, there was this adolescent pegasus filly with orange fur and a light green mane. She was kind of scrawny, and she breathed heavily and stared at me the whole time she was in line. When she got to the front, she quickly asked, "A-are you Soarin'?"

Even though I wanted to drop to the ground and sleep forever, I still had my game face on. I flashed a giant smile and said, "The one and only! What's your name?"

Her eyes lit up. "I'm Lofty Skies! It's, um, i-it's really nice to meet you! You're really inspiring, and I think what you're doing is super nice, and I really appreciate it. Really! And I… I just wanted to say that. Thanks!" She quickly turned and crouched down to take off.

I held up a hoof. "Hey! Lofty! No rush." I held up a headshot. "You want an autograph?"

She shrunk a little, but then she turned back to me. "Oh, um… I… don't have the money for it. I'm… sort of saving up so I can leave the shelter." My throat tightened up. "But thank you!" She turned to leave again.

And I stopped her again. "Eh, it's on the house. And…" I felt my wings start to droop. "I'm sorry things aren't working out for you. But don't worry! In the end, you're gonna make it." I passed her the photo. "I know you can. I…" I cleared my throat and crossed my forelegs to rest them on the table.

She cocked her head to the side. "What's wrong?"

My gaze fell to the ground. "Well, I… don't have any parents, either."

Lofty looked down at the photo. "I'm sorry. I know how much it sucks." She paused, looked at the line behind her, then back to me. "Do you… want a hug?"

And ponies don't believe me when I say I do it for the fans.

I chuckled and looked up. "Sure. Why not."

That turned out to be the highlight of my day, and it reminded me why I was there. Every bit we'd earned went to the shelter, and knowing that somepony else didn't have to feel so alone – that they didn't have to go home to a quiet house somewhere or a home with nothing but screaming, arguing parents – was worth an exhausted hoof and a lack of sleep. I felt like I'd done something good for once, and it made the whole… transition a little easier.

I came back to reality, and as I stood in the bedroom, staring at that medal, I choked up just a little and whispered, "I'm trying, Dad."

It still hurt, and my chest tightened when I realized he'd never get to meet Braeburn. I took a few shallow breaths and looked into my reflection. "You'd love Braeburn, Dad. I sure do." My lip quivered, and I let out a weak laugh. "See? You and Mom didn't screw me up. I-I'm back. It's okay." A small smile appeared on my face. "It's okay."

And I could see him again. I imagined him standing there with me, his foreleg around me and smiling that big goofy smile, just like the day I'd graduated from the Academy. He said, "You're making me proud, son. Not just because of the shows, but everything. You're a fine stallion, and I don't want you ever thinking otherwise. I'll be watching tonight, just like always, and I know you'll blow them away, Stormcloud."

I could feel my mane start to stand on end, and I swallowed hard. "Thanks, Dad."

"And take care of Braeburn." I imagined him patting me on the shoulder. "He's a good colt. I love him to death, and I couldn't have picked a better mate for you, son. I think you'll make it last."

My knees felt weak. "I do, too," I said almost silently.

"See? You're already smarter than your old man." He nodded at me. "It'll be rough at times, but no matter what happens, remember how much you love him, and have faith in him, and do the same for yourself. Think you can handle that?"

"Yeah," I said shakily.

He smiled again, big and goofy and loving. "Go get 'em, Stormcloud. I'll always love you."

…

I don't know if ghosts are real. Maybe our loved ones stay with us until we don't need them anymore, or maybe the only thing we keep of them is our memories. Was he really there with me? Maybe not, but as long as I can still hear his voice, as long as I can still feel the way he touched me or see that smile that was all his and feel in my heart all the love he had for me, all the way to his last breath, well… that's basically the same thing, isn't it? I get it now. I wish I'd known it then. I blinked away a few tears and weakly mumbled, "Love you, too, Dad."

And he was gone.

It was quiet in that room. Not the quiet that I'd grown to hate, but the quiet that Braeburn was teaching me was okay, the kind that leaves you full instead of empty, warm instead of cold.

And right on cue, Braeburn walked softly into the room, dressed in a white button-up shirt and the bolo tie with the apple-shaped clasp. He said nothing. He knew that the silence was sacred. Braeburn stood next to me and rested his head on my shoulder, on the opposite side where Dad had stood, and we both watched each other in the mirrors.

Tenderly, he asked, "Talkin' to Skywise?"

I leaned my head against his. "Yeah."

There was another pause, and Braeburn leaned into me a little harder, like he was hugging me with his cheek. "What'd he have to say?"

I sighed. "He's proud of me, and he loves me, and he's going to be at the show tonight, just like always." I nuzzled him. "And he loves you, too."

Braeburn chuckled. "Glad he approves. I'll try to stay on his good side."

"You will." I kissed his head, then rested on it again, feeling the warmth of his body against mine. "How about Jonah? Does he like me?"

It was Braeburn's turn to sigh, and he half-lidded his eyes as he smiled. "Oh, he likes you a bunch. Says I've finally found a stallion worth keeping." His voice got a little quieter, and his smile faded. "And he's been helpin' me through the long days. Keepin' me company, mostly, and keepin' me focused on what matters." He looked at me directly. "We're lucky to have them."

"Yeah. We really are."

We shared a quiet moment, then pulled away and just looked at each other. The world was still, but we both thought the same thing. We both leaned in, closed our eyes, and shared a long, deep kiss. It was soft and sweet, and I could just barely feel his rough tongue brush against mine. When we were satisfied, I pulled away, stepped forward, and wrapped both my wings around him in a big hug. Our cheeks touched, and I said, "Thanks for being here, Brae. I love you so much."

"You, too, Soarin'." He hugged me back and let us have one more moment of peace. "And I hate to rush us, but the cab's here. I know you can't eat much before the show, but I whipped up some candied alfalfa if you need a snack."

My heart swelled. "Thanks, Braeburn."

We went downstairs. Holli was finishing putting some mini dessert tacos onto a platter and into the ice box. At some point, she'd put on some makeup and had slipped into a casual, blue dress. We grabbed our stuff and headed outside to the cab, which took us towards Manehattan stadium.

And by the way, that candied alfalfa kicked ass.

Swooping down to Manehattan, Braeburn's eyes were stuck to the windows. "Geez, it's like the whole city's made of gold!"

He was right. Between the fading sunlight catching the tall metal buildings and the gem lamps in the streets starting to come on, everything had a golden shimmer. The streets were packed with ponies on their way home from work, and maybe even a few on their way to the show. Thank Luna we got to fly over all that, right?

Plus, the media ponies were out in swarms. Luckily, we got dropped off inside the security gate, and there was an escort waiting for us as we stepped out of the cab, far away from the flashing cameras. We ducked inside a giant set of nondescript doors, guided by two heavily-muscled bodyguards.

As we walked down a grey, stale hallway, Holli leaned in to talk to Braeburn. "Thanks for letting me tag along. Soarin's never brought me backstage before."

Braeburn laughed. "Ha! Well, maybe you just need to work on your persuasive technique. Soarin's pretty level-headed."

I nudged Braeburn. "Bullshit. You make me go nuts."

Holli peeked around Braeburn. "Oh, I'm not jealous, Sugar. You two make a cute couple."

"Thank you kindly!" Braeburn said.

Security brought us to the locker room, and they said they'd take Holli and Braeburn to their seats. Before we split off, Braeburn gave me one last hug and a kiss and said, "Love you, Big Blue. Give 'em hell."

"I will, Applebutt. Enjoy the show."

Braeburn and Holli waved to me, and they left down the hall.

Aaaand I spent about two minutes staring at Braeburn's ass as he walked away. For professional reasons, of course. See, when a dude's aroused, he gets a testosterone boost, and that gives him better endurance. I was doing it for the team! That's just science, dude.

I stepped into the locker room and found the rest of the team stretching out and talking. Stormfeather saw me and said, "There he is. Thought you were skipping your big comeback for a second, Soarin'."

I smirked. "You wish. Nothing's keeping me out of the sky tonight."

The locker room smelled sterile, but it would be thick with stallion musk by the end of the night. The lockers were a deep red – the color of Manehattan's skyball team, the Minotaurs – and everypony that was performing that night started putting on their suits, which they grabbed from a pile. I didn't have an old one to turn in, but luckily, nopony asked. Star Hunter was our backup flier, and Sightseer looked like he was just there to hang. Officially, he wasn't supposed to be there. Unofficially, buck that. We're a team. He even came with us for the warm-ups in the training room, and he sat there preening with us while we all listened to Spitfire give us one last pep talk.

…and one last inspection. "Windsong! Earring! Now!"

I flicked my ear. The yellow stud that I'd gotten for Braeburn in Las Pegasus was still in there, and Wonderbolt policy prohibits jewelry during the shows. It isn't part of the look, and it can do a lot of damage if things go wrong. Instinctively, I started to say, "But, Captain Sp–"

"No buts, Windsong! Take it out, or I'm taking you out of the show."

I frowned, and my heart felt heavy. I whispered to myself, "Sorry, Applebutt," and reached up to take it out. It's such a small gemstone, but as soon as it was out, my ear felt completely different. I felt the hole that it had left, and everything seemed just a little out of balance. I didn't want to fly without it.

So I didn't. When nopony was looking, I pinned it on the inside of my suit, right next to my heart. Patting it once, I thought, 'Love you, Brae. I'll always keep you right here.'

After we finished preening, we headed back to our respective locker rooms. Things were more relaxed back there. Fire Streak stood at the edge of the room while the rest of us bullshitted with each other. As a captain, it's tough straddling that line between being one of the guys and being the stern leader. Admittedly, I was way better at the former. Streak was fine, though, and he spent some time looking at himself in the mirror before he finally shouted, "Stallion squad!"

We lined up in perfect formation, all seven of us. I was second from the left.

Fire Streak kept going. "'Bolts!" He marched crisply in front of our line, inspecting for even the slightest hoof misplacement. He didn't find it. "It's been a long week for all of us. Celestia knows the administrative side's been a nightmare. But that won't break us, will it?"

We shouted in unison. "Sir no sir!"

"Good! All eyes are on us. The world is waiting for us to slip up. It's an immense amount of pressure." He whipped his head towards us. "But do we crack under pressure?"

"Sir no sir!"

"Damn straight! When things get rough, we don't crack. We shine." Streak was really getting the hang of it, and it felt like he'd been doing it for years. "In the most extreme conditions, we show the world that we'll push harder, fly faster, and perform better than any other pony in Equestria. Wonderbolts, are you ready to shine?"

"Sir yes sir!"

"Excellent! Let's get out there and blow some Celestia-damned minds. Wonderbolts, salute!"

We snapped our hooves to our foreheads.

"Wonderbolts, scramble!"

We crouched down, and together, we tore out of there, ready to give the show of our lives.

As the last members of the crowd took their seats, I stood at my place along the rim of the stadium. We were scattered all along the edge, and five meters to my left was a large, volatile mass of pyrotechnics. Peeking into the stadium, I could see Braeburn, right in the cushy, reclining VIP seat in the middle of the stadium and a few rows in front of the main stage. I told you, we have great vision. My heart fluttered, and I felt like a school filly as I thought, 'He's going to see me. My coltfriend is at my big show!' I didn't care that I wasn't the lead flier – Braeburn was going to see me and be proud of me. Dad and Jonah, too. Everything else was secondary.

The announcer riled up the crowd, calling on them to cheer louder in a booming, bass voice. My wings buzzed and my heart thumped along with the loud, primal music that played over the speakers. Fog machines ran full-steam at the sides of the stage, and the giant, blue curtain with the Wonderbolts' insignia began to wave in an unseen breeze. Watching the special effect and hearing the growing music, I thought I'd burst, but I held all the energy in, all until the final moment.

"Fillies and gentlecolts… the Wonderbolts!"

The fireworks erupted from the main stage, and Fire Streak and Spitfire erupted from the curtains with them. The crowd roared, and I could swear I heard Braeburn whistle as Streak made a low pass over his section. A few more fireworks from the stage, and Streak and Spitfire began flying more slowly around the rim. At regular intervals, another firework would explode, and another 'Bolt would launch off of the rim and fall into formation as the announcer called our names. It looked like we were exploding into existence, and the crowd ate it up.

My turn came. I flared out my wings, sucked in a breath, and leapt. The dark blue firework went off behind me, and I snapped into formation just behind and to the right of Fire Streak. The crowd cheered, and without turning my head – Spitfire always knows – I flicked my eyes over to Braeburn, who was standing on his chair, flailing and waving at me. I might have been imagining it, but… no. It was real. Braeburn's voice always found me, and I could hear him cheering like there was nopony else in the world.

And he deserved to see me at my best. I grunted and refocused as Streak and Spitfire peeled off and flew for opposite sides of the stadium. They landed there deftly as the stallion and mare squads split from each other. The two squads flew in vertical ring formations at opposite ends, then flew one after another in large spirals towards the center of the stadium. The audience gasped as the two spirals intertwined beautifully, and once we had completely merged our two formations, we each flew in wide, vertical rings. The music swelled, and we activated contrail packs in our suits. Thick smoke billowed from each of us, creating a large, black tube. As the contrails ran out, we flew just outside the tube, keeping the smoke tunnel in place with our draft.

The spotlights hit the captains, one each on opposite sides of the stadium. They dove straight for the tube at the same time. They gained speed. The audience held their breath, then gasped as Streak and Spitfire flew straight into both sides of the tube. As they did, we all flew away, and an orange glow from inside turned into a massive explosion that Spitfire and Streak emerged from opposite sides of. The crowd went fucking wild!

And Braeburn was cheering loudest of all. Even if I wasn't the star, I could feel it in my chest. He was cheering just for me.

During the first act, Wave Chill, Blaze, Fleetfoot, and I watched from just off the main stage. Halfway through, Wave Chill saddled up next to me and whispered, "Burn you up not to be out there?"

Through a little gap in the curtains, I could see Braeburn, reclining in his puffy chair. I'd been watching his reactions the whole time, from the big smiles to the loud gasps to the way his eyes were always searching for me. I smiled and, without looking away, whispered back to Wave Chill, "Nah, I've got a pretty good view."

The second act was awesome, too, and even if there weren't as many pyrotechnics, the audience loved us. A few times, during quick turns or stunts where I had to arch my back, I felt a little poke on my chest from the stud, and I said to myself, 'Braeburn's with me.' I thought about throwing an extra spiral or two in, just for him, but I decided against it. Giving him my best meant doing what was best for the team.

The show ended with the "Pyre Spiral," and dude, just… dude! It's become Streak and Spitfire's signature thing, and they bucking owned it! The rest of us did smaller, interwoven stunts in front of the audience. It all looked super chaotic, even though it was meticulously choreographed, and when the music hits that last, low beat that rang out for a couple seconds, the whole stadium went silent. The team began flying around the arena, clockwise along the edge, and when the beat dropped again, Spitfire and Fire Streak dove from the rim of the stadium right towards each other. But this time, they didn't explode as they nearly collided. No. This time, they set off their contrail packs so that orange and yellow mists trailed behind them. The mist smelled like vodka, and as they flew past, they banked hard upward, creating a colored spiral. The audience shrieked as the lights went out, but it wasn't dark for long. Some technicians lit the mists on fire. The flames raged upwards, burning through the contrail, and when it got to the top, it revealed what Spitfire and Fire Streak had done in the dark: the Wonderbolts' insignia, cast in a blazing glory of yellow and orange.

The audience lost their freaking minds!

After the bows and the flyovers, we headed back to the locker rooms, patting each other on the back and playfully punching each other.

"Dude, nice work tonight!"
"Damn, that felt sweet."
"You catch the hottie in the third row?"

Back in the locker room, the first thing I did was put my stud back in. I flicked my ear once when it was back in place, and it felt… well, normal. Everything felt balanced again. Everything felt right.

We hit the showers. The water was too cold, but we were in high spirits. As we were toweling off, I saw Streak let out a big sigh as a smile appeared on his face. I went up to him and lightly punched his shoulder, wearing a big, corny grin. "That was killer, bro! Iiiiiif I didn't know better, I'd think you were a captain or something!"

Streak gave me a toothy smile. "Guess you've already forgotten what a real captain looks like." We knocked heads together, and Streak nodded at me. "Nice flying tonight, bro. Think you're ready for the firing squad? We could probably get you out of it if you wanna claim captainship."

I scrunched up my face, imagining having to sit through Spitfire's critique. It wouldn't be pleasant, but I wanted to be part of the team again. "Nah, lay it on me. Luna knows I'm out of shape."

Streak nodded. "You got it, but don't say I didn't warn you." The guys were being rowdy in the middle of the room, and their voices echoed around us. "You clowns still need a lot of work."

"Ha! Like you're not just as bad as the rest of us." I smiled wider. "Seriously, though, Streak, that was fan-freaking-tastic! And you totally nailed that Pyre Spiral. You gotta tell me the story behind that sometime."

"Sure thing, Soarin'." His smile flickered into a frown, then back, but it was a little forced now. "Maybe tomorrow over brunch?"

"Yeah, okay." I nudged him. "And hey, you wanna let me in on the big secret? What do you actually want to talk about tomorrow?"

Streak waved a hoof. "Not tonight. We've got a free weekend, and I want to make the most of it. Tonight's for you and Braeburn."

"Thanks, bro." We bumped hooves, and I heard a timid knock on the door. "Speaking of which…"

The door had opened a crack, and I saw the end of a yellow nose poke in. "Pardon, uh… Pardon me, but i-is Soarin' ready?"

A few of the guys looked at each other with wicked smiles, and Silver Lining sauntered over to the door. I shook my head at him a little, but I kinda wanted to see where he was going with it. He grabbed the handle and yanked open the door, then said in a sultry voice, "Welcome to the big leagues, Braeburn. Come inside."

Braeburn stood wide-eyed, his top two buttons undone, ears down. "Oh, my! Uh… Thank you, but I–"

"Eh, c'mon," Silver Lining said, hooking Braeburn around the neck and pulling him inside.

Braeburn sucked in a deep breath, and I could see his pupils constrict as the rest of the team (minus Streak and me) gathered around him. "Well, uh, hello! Y'all had a great show tonight, and I'm pleased I could have such a wonderful seat." He was completely rigid, and he was talking quickly as the guys pressed in closer. "Sure never seen anythin' like that back home in Appleloosa. Don't have many pegasi comin' through, I suppose, but we'd love to have y'all out sometime! Don't have much funds for a show, but we might be able to scrape somethin' together. What are your policies on loans?"

A few of the guys snickered, and I could see Braeburn flinch as Wave Chill put a dark blue hoof on his shoulder. "Dude, relax. You're fine."

Stormfeather shouted to Chill, "How fine? Do I have to tell your marefriend you're switching teams, Chill?" The guys laughed, and Braeburn's shoulders relaxed a little.

Wave Chill took his hoof off Braeburn's shoulder and walked over to slap Stormfeather with a wing. "Careful, Stormfeather. I heard about Whinnyapolis."

Stormfeather blushed, then looked away. "He looked like a mare…"

The guys laughed again, and Sightseer walked up next to Braeburn. "Don't worry about them. They're just jealous Soarin's getting more action than they are. I'm Sightseer. Nice to meet you," he said, extending a hoof.

"Pleasure's all mine," Braeburn replied, shaking it.

Fire Streak leaned in and whispered, "Is Braeburn okay? He seems a little tense."

I looked back at Braeburn, who was staring wide-eyed as Wave Chill flexed in the mirror and showed off his wings, occasionally winking at Braeburn. When Stormfeather saw the way Braeburn was ogling, he started nonchalantly doing a few wing-ups. Silver Lining joined him, too, and they had a mini-wing-up competition. Star Hunter was off to the side, scowling a little, but he still showed off his chest when Braeburn looked his way. Even Lightning Streak, who's totally straight, strutted around Braeburn, checking him out. "Soarin's lucky he's got somepony as hot as you to ride."

Braeburn took it all in. His face looked flushed, and his breathing got very heavy. He tried to stifle a smile, but it slowly crept up the sides of his face, and I could see him subtly taking deep breaths of the sweaty smell of Wonderbolt stallion. Then, his smile dropped, he sat down, and he carefully positioned his forelegs between his hind legs to cover the middle section of his body, but he didn't stop eyeing every piece of stallion meat in there.

And… as happy as I was for him, I felt a little stab of jealousy in my stomach. It worked its way up to my chest, then bubbled up into the first shades of anger in my face. My coltfriend was sitting there, eyeing every other stallion in the room, and he hadn't even really looked for me.

But I told myself it was a one-time thing. 'Don't flip out. They're just having fun, and he is, too. It's all good.' After a deep breath, I realized it wasn't all that different from Las Pegasus: these guys weren't my competition. They were just eye candy. 'Braeburn wouldn't pick them over me. Definitely not.'

By the time I came back to the moment, a few of the guys were closing in on Braeburn, posing and giving him the bedroom eyes, and I could see Braeburn's brain short-circuiting as his smile grew wider. Braeburn chewed his lower lip, then mumbled, "Y'all sure are a fit bunch. Mighty… Mighty impressive." His eyes flickered down to his crotch, and he grimaced at them. "Heh heh…"

I shook out my mane and whispered back to Streak, "Oh yeah. He'll be okay."

Braeburn shrunk a little bit, though, and I saw realization hit his face. He shook his head a few times, then looked past the other stallions until he found me. With soft eyes, he grimaced and mouthed, "Help?"

And for the moment, I thought, 'Yeah. He's still picking me.' I smiled and whispered to Streak, "I should probably go save him." A little louder, I added, "You and Spitfire gonna be there tonight?"

Streak shook his head. "Oh yeah, and Spitfire's planning on firing anypony that's late." He winked at me. "See you there, bro."

We shared another hoof bump, and I walked up to Braeburn, pushing a few of my teammates away. "Alright, guys, meat market's closed."

"Soarin'!" Braeburn shouted, his voice cracking as it echoed off the walls. "Oh, uh, we should, uh…" He looked frantically around and the other 'Bolts, whose faces were a mix of smugness and laughter. "We should, uh, probably get back home and finish settin' up. Oh! And Holli's waitin'! Wouldn't want to keep her too long, and–"

I kissed him on the lips. "You got it." I turned back to the guys and said, "Nice show, colts. You ready to get trashed?"

They erupted in cheers.

"Woo!"
"Fuck yes!"
"You know it!"
"See you there!"

I laughed. "Okay. Let's go, Braeburn."

We said a few more goodbyes and left the locker room. Once we were outside and walking towards the exit, Braeburn let out a long breath. "Mighty stuffy in there, ain't it?"

"Ha!" I nudged his flank with mine. "Admit it, Applebutt: you thought they were hot."

Braeburn looked straight ahead, and a satisfied smile dominated his face as he pranced along. "Well… I enjoyed the attention." In an exaggerated voice, he added, "Think they'll let me back in after the next show?"

I chuckled. "Careful, or Wave Chill's marefriend'll kill you."

"Oh, she's got nothin' to worry about. I've got more than I could ask for right here." Braeburn looked over at me, his eyes sparkling, and I felt that calm earth pony magic soothe me. The aching burn in my muscles was replaced with gentle warmth, and my exhaustion melted away.

"Although," he continued as I refocused on him. "During the flyover, I noticed a certain accessory went missin', you stinker." He winked at me. "Where'd you stash it?"

I stopped and smiled at him. He was feigning an angry expression, with his eyebrows furrowed and his lower lip sticking out, but it was more adorable than anything else, and I didn't feel any malice in it. Instead of saying anything, I just grabbed his hoof and pressed it against my chest, right on my heart where I'd put the stud.

Braeburn smiled, dreamy-eyed. "You know… Somehow, I just knew." He set his hoof down and kissed me quickly.

The hallway was empty, and I let the words just come out. "You're in my heart all the time, Brae. You've always got a special place there."

"I know, and I love you all the more for it." He traced the muscles on my chest with a hoof, then quietly said, "That was a hell of a show, Soarin'. I was watchin' you the whole time, and you made me proud."

My heart warmed, but my head wasn't quite on board yet. I cocked an eyebrow. "Proud? Of what?"

Braeburn shrugged. "Just proud, I guess. Proud that you were able to get back into it so quickly. Proud that you gave it your best, even if you weren't the lead. Proud that you've grown and found a place in the team. You know." He nuzzle me under my chin. "There's a lot to be proud of, and I'm lookin' forward to more."

I stroked his mane. "So you're coming to the next show?"

"Of course! And the one after that, too!" He looked up at me, and his voice got quieter. "And you know what?"

I was smiling, and softly, I asked, "What?"

"Skywise told me he was proud of you, too."

I felt a healing coolness wash over me, and a tight feeling welled up from my gut to my throat to my eyes, which watered for a second. For a moment, I could see Dad there next to me, and Jonagold next to him, and they were both smiling and nodding. And I felt complete. And the night felt perfect.

I sucked in a shaky breath and kissed Braeburn's head, right on his mane between his ears. "Thanks, Applebutt."

We held each other for a moment more, then started walking that last little distance back to the security checkpoint. My wing was around him, and we walked with our bodies pressed together. The thought of Braeburn going back to Appleloosa and Bronze still lurked somewhere at the back of my mind, but at the time, all I could think was, 'This is real. This is my life, and it feels so… right.'

Braeburn piped up, "Sure got a big smile on, Big Blue. Whatcha thinkin' about?"

I looked at my coltfriend, and everything felt brighter. "My new normal."

Chapter 37 - The Enemy Within

* * * * *

Soarin' is breathing harder, and his pace has slowed down considerably. He rotates his shoulder for the fourth time in as many minutes, and his braces squeak. "Dammit, I… think I need to sit down. Heh." He chuckles, but there's a hollowness to it, and he just barely glances at me. "There's a gazebo about a block away. Mind if we stop?"

It's not just his legs, is it? He wants to sit down for whatever comes next. "Certainly."

"Thanks." He hops into the air, but his wing flaps are labored, and he flies so quickly that I need to half-gallop to keep up with him. We meander through somepony's yard, and a tiny pang of guilt jabs me as I wonder if I'm trampling a perfectly-manicured cloud-lawn.

Beyond the houses, Soarin' swoops into a wooden gazebo, painted lavender and sitting at the top of a large, rolling hill that drops down into a valley. He sits on a bench inside, and I set down my saddlebags and join him. The sun is in our eyes, but in just a couple hours, we'll have a marvelous view of the sunset. Do they look the same this high up?

I look down at the hill while Soarin' catches his breath. For a large puff of cloud, it looks remarkably solid. "Does the topography stay the same up here?"

Soarin' nods. "Mostly. I mean, clouds are clouds, but it's somepony's job to keep everything where it is. It makes owning property a lot easier, ya' know? And it's nice to know some places won't ever change." He trails off at the end and gets dreamy-eyed.

I raise an eyebrow. "Like… this place, for instance?"

"Yeah." Soarin' smiles and turns to me with soft eyes, squinting in the sunlight. He's slightly sweaty. "This is where Dad took me stargazing. I come here whenever I need his advice." He sighs and looks out at the sun again.

This is a special place for him. And he's sharing it with me. I crack a smile and make myself more comfortable.

My mouth opens, but I see Soarin's ear twitch. He's peering at something far away, far beyond the present, and I understand. I won't interrupt him. I wait and feel the sun warm my face and the breeze cool my skin and the clean air fill my lungs, and all the while, Soarin' keeps listening to something I can't hear.

I allow my eyes to wander. The sky unfurls in front of us, and I can only see the horizon off in my periphery. The world seems so much bigger up here, so much more open, like everything is being exposed without fear of judgment.

And Soarin's been remarkably open, too, hasn't he? He's given me a lot more detail than I'd ever thought, and for that, I'm thankful. Maybe this really has been therapeutic for him. Maybe it's his way of getting it all off of his chest. I don't know whether he'll still accept the book deal, but if he does, it might be one more step in opening back up to the world. Maybe he's telling Equestria that he's finally ready to come back. He'll absolutely be welcomed. We've missed him.

I look at Soarin'. He sits with perfect posture, or at least as perfect as he can with those braces on. He doesn't move more than he needs to, and with his eyes unfocused like that, I get the sense that he's lost in thought. Though he did just say–

Soarin' laughs to himself and snaps me out of my reverie. He turns and says, "You get it, right? Why we're here?"

I nod and smile. "You were listening to Skywise." He smiles a little wider. A warm breeze kicks up for a moment, and I swear it feels like an invisible hoof on my shoulder. "What did he say?"

Soarin's smile quivers, and he sighs. "He says that I should tell you the next part, no matter how much I don't want to, and that you've probably already figured out what Streak told me."

* * * * *

I woke up the next morning with a splitting headache, and when I rolled out of bed, Braeburn groaned. He lifted his head, and even though he still looked half-drunk, he told me to go have fun with Streak. "And no feelin' guilty. I did this to myself." He rolled over in bed again and mumbled into his pillow, "I'll sleep it off eventually, and… I'm sorry about last night."

I was drawn to him. I wanted to get back into bed and spend all morning keeping him comfortable, but I compromised by rubbing his back. "Can… we talk about it?"

He sighed into his pillow. "Probably should. I wanna quit, and I'm…" Cautiously, he rolled his head and looked at me out of the corner of his eye. "I'm gonna need your help, Soarin'. I don't wanna be that pony." He groaned again and rolled back. "Yuck. Course, it's easy to say all that now, when I'm incapacitated like this. How 'bout I feel a little better before I make myself feel worse again? Streak's probably waitin', and you can scold me later."

I frowned. "I'm not angry, Braeburn."

"Then I'm a damn lucky pony. Heh heh–" He winced. "Ow. Later, though? Please?"

"Okay. Need anything? Alfalfa, maybe? I think I've got some bastionroot for your headache, but it's probably expired."

He lifted his head to look at me. "You're a blessin', Soarin'. I'll settle for a kiss and a big glass of water." I obliged, then told him I love him and went downstairs.

The smell of coffee slapped me awake. I followed it to the kitchen, where Streak was hunched over the kitchen table, eyes droopy and bloodshot. His mane was flattened against his head, but he smiled and flicked his chin at me as I walked in. He clutched a large mug, and his voice was raspy. "Morning, Soarin'."

"Morning." I yawned and poured myself some coffee. I used the mug with my face on it. I mean, they all have my face on them, but I like the "Signature Series" one the best. It makes my wings look fuller.

Hey, I'm not gonna buy store brand stuff when I can get the official merch for free, alright?

The faint scent of sweaty Wonderbolt hid just below the coffee. I opened the window, then sat down across from him and said, "So, Captain, you look like Tartarus. Didn't sleep?"

"Lot on my mind," Streak said, swishing the black liquid in his mug. He quietly groaned and rolled his tongue around in his mouth, then stifled a yawn. "Is Braeburn okay?"

I took a drink of my coffee. It burned my tongue, but I gulped down a mouthful anyway. "Yeah, he'll be okay. He feels good enough to kick us out, anyway." I winked at him. "Guess we party too hard."

Streak's eyes brightened up a bit. "Heh. And I thought he was the rowdy one."

I narrowed my eyes at him and smirked. "Did you forget who you're talking to?"

"Sure," he said, raising his mug to his face. Over the rim, he muttered, "The old captain."

I snickered and readjusted my wings. "Screw you, bro."

Streak swallowed his coffee. "No thanks." He looked out the window, and a small, dopey smile spread across his face. He was glowing. With a drawn-out breath, he looked for a second like he'd actually gotten a good night's sleep. "I've got that covered."

My eyes widened, and I grinned as my mug knocked against the table. "No way! You finally gonna score?"

He smirked. "I may have a date tonight, yeah."

"Nice! Let me know how she is." I stuck my lower lip out and looked up and to the side. "I've always wondered if–"

"Hell no," he said firmly as he set his mug down. "I'd rather not get murdered, thanks."

We shot the breeze about the party, about who was making out with who, and who was going to host the next one. I razzed Streak a little more about him and Spitfire, and he came right back about how it's important for captains to work closely together. When I asked if that meant I was invited over for a threesome, he coughed and choked on the last of his coffee. "Touché." He set his empty mug down and wiped his mouth. "Ready to go?"

We stood up, and after he'd grabbed his saddlebag, we walked out into the balmy morning. The sunlight brought my headache roaring back, but once we were flying and our blood was pumping, our bodies processed the residual hangover.

Streak didn't say much, though. I egged him on a little more about being captain, but he just responded with shrugs or the occasional chuckle. Eventually, I just gave up and focused on taking deep breaths of the morning air, and I thought to myself, 'Keep it cool. He'll be his usual self once he gets… whatever this is off his chest.' I considered a bunch of different possibilities, from trouble with the team to needing advice on choreography, but with how cold he'd been at practice that week, none of that seemed likely. Whatever was on his mind, it was heavy enough that I could feel it, too.

We landed at a restaurant called The Pampered Egg. It's this diner just off the Estates that pretends to be big and fancy by hanging up expensive velvet curtains and keeping the place super dark. They have needlessly fruity art on the walls and serve stuff like "Mimosas kissed with a lively gust of raspberry." You know, shit like that. I mean, it's not awful, but it's no Bad Sun Rising. There were a few customers there for breakfast, but we'd made it before the big rush.

Streak had reserved a private party room in the back that could serve about a dozen ponies. The staff had pushed the extra tables to the side, and a table for two sat in the center of the room. It was the only one with its candle lit.

I whistled as I looked around and raised an eyebrow. "So… you are trying to get me in bed, aren't you?"

Without looking at me, he stiffly said, "I wanted some privacy."

We sat down at the table, and a reasonably hot stallion in a tight black dress shirt took our drink orders. We got the freaking raspberry-kissed mimosas, because why not, right? The waiter left, and I smirked at Streak. "So, you gonna spill it?"

First Streak startled, then folded the menu he'd been fiddling with. "Can we talk first? I want to make sure we have time to catch up." His voice had that low, urgent quality that always meant he was upset.

I trusted Streak. I still do. With my life. He needed me to just play it cool for a while, and with everything he'd done for me that week, how could I refuse? "'Kay," I said with a shrug. I glanced at the menu, but… nothing… jumped out at me. I quickly closed it. "Meh. I'll just have whatever the waiter recommends. Uh… you okay?"

Streak was frowning deeply. He took a drink of his water to try to hide it, then set his glass down and waved a hoof at me. "Don't worry about me." He forced a smiled and leaned forward, and his voice became bouncier. "And don't keep me in the dark, bro. I'm paying good bits for this breakfast, and I want to hear the whole story."

I grinned evilly. "Even the parts where I fucked Braeburn's brains out?"

His ears flattened. "Most of the story."

I talked a lot, but I was only able to give him the short version. I told him about skipping practice and crashing into the tree in Braeburn's orchard, which made him cringe a lot more than I thought it would. I told him what it was like getting cut and how I looked for Braeburn at Honeycrisp's farm. I gave him plenty of details about the train ride and Appleloosa, and he got a laugh out of all the shit that went down in Las Pegasus. I told him about the trip back to Cloudsdale, and when I got to the date with Braeburn at Honeycrisp's, the room felt warmer. He was smiling at me – he felt it, too, and I know he was thinking about Spitfire from that goofy smile on his face. Streak asked tons of questions, and we talked all the way through breakfast (omelets, at the waiter's recommendation).

In a lot of ways, it felt like closure. I was coming back and laying everything on the table, and for an hour or so, we didn't worry about the media or the 'Bolts. We got to be friends again. Bros. Streak gets me, maybe more than anypony else on the planet, and it felt like we were telling the story together. He knew what parts to ask questions about and when to just say, "I feel for you, Soarin'." And for all the years of Streak taunting me about taking my spot as captain, there's nopony I'd rather have as my replacement.

After Streak picked up the check, he asked the waiter to give us some privacy, and we were alone.

I was stretching out. I'd eaten too much of my omelet, but as least I had a little to bring back to Braeburn. "So, you got the whole story. Your turn, bro. Lemme hear about being captain."

Streak thought for a moment. His posture faltered, and he stared down at his empty water glass. "It's damn weird, Soarin'. I'm thankful for the opportunity, but I spent so long thinking about it that it's all a little surreal, you know?"

"Totally." I gestured widely with a hoof. "I went through it, too. Every captain does. You're out there, striving to be your best, hoping for a shot at the big time, and then one day, BAM! You're captain, and everything changes course in half a wingbeat."

Streak lifted his head. "Ha. Yeah, and right when you think it's smooth sailing, everything gets a whole lot harder. It feels almost impossible sometimes."

"That's how it should be, though." I drank the rest of my mimosa. "It proves that you're passionate about your job and that you understand what a big deal it is. You've put in a lot of work, especially these past couple weeks, Streak. There's a lot of honor in leading the Wonderbolts, and you deserve all of it."

"Heh…" He folded his wings in and looked down. "I deserve the bad parts, too, then."

"Ooookay, dude," I grumbled as I put a hoof on the table. "You've kept me waiting long enough. What are you freaking out about?"

Streaked leaned onto the table. "Soarin', I almost fucked up. I…" He looked at me. "Things were crazy after you left. You're a tough act to follow, and I was… jealous." His voice was muted, and his shoulders drooped.

I lowered my voice. "You can tell me anything, Streak. Promise."

He sighed, and he told me. "Soarin', you know that the media didn't really cover my first show, right?"

My ears drooped. "Yeah…" I remembered him telling me back at the Academy, during that whole episode with Bottom Line. "I'm super sorry about that, bro. If there's anything–" My eyes widened. "Hey! Now that all this bullshit with the media is over, I can, like, promote you or something! Duh! Why didn't I–"

Streak smiled but shook his head. "I appreciate it, bro, but no thanks. I'm over it. Really." His smile faded again. "But it was hard, and I almost, well…" He ran a hoof through his mane. "I almost sold you out."

I cocked my head to the side, convinced I'd misheard him. "What do you mean?"

He looked me in the eye, but he looked strained. "I… wrote a letter to the Equinerer, Soarin'. About you."

My breath caught in my throat. "You… what? Dude, what…" I shook my head. 'Let him talk,' I thought. 'It's probably not that bad.' I sighed and motioned with my hoof. "Sorry. Go ahead."

Streak looked down again. "I still can't believe what happened. I didn't send it, but I filled it with all these stories and allegations and signed it 'An Insider.' It was bad, bro. Stuff about foal support and doping and…" His neck muscles tensed, but he kept looking at me. "…and some stuff that was actually true."

My mouth hung agape. I felt hollow and full of fire at the same time, and I couldn't form words. My brain was too busy thinking about all the awful things Streak knew about, all the stuff we'd done together that we agreed to never tell anypony about. But he'd nearly spilled it all.

It felt like a knife in my chest. My mind raced with images Streak sitting in his office, cackling to himself and filling line after line with lies and truths and everything that we work so hard to keep our names off of. I imagined him rubbing his hooves together, snarling and just waiting to throw me to the dogs.

But that wasn't the pony I saw in front of me. Streak wasn't pleased with himself. His posture had collapsed, and he frowned at me, and his eyes searched mine, almost asking me to yell at him.

The silence felt like a thick gel around us, and Streak finally broke it. "I'm sorry, Soarin'." He head shook subtly. "I can't tell you how… sorry, how… disappointed I am that I let myself… I got so wrapped up in the glory and the fame, and…" He trailed off.

My nerves buzzed, and my brain tossed, trying to figure out what to feel. I sat like a statue, and all I could say was, "Keep talking."

And he did. He told me about the week leading up to the show, when he'd had to work harder than he ever had in his life to get the team back on track. He told me about the show itself, how nervous and excited he was and how euphoric those first few moments were. Without missing a beat, Streak described the press conference, where it became more and more clear that the media didn't care about him at all. The next week had been awful for him, and he told me all about how it kept eating at him, how he always felt cold in my shadow and how cancerous it was to see his dreams of fame die on the rocks, even if he realized now how stupid it was to chase after idolization. He'd learned what was important to him, "And what's important is my team and my friendship, Soarin'. And I'm sorry I lost sight of it."

Throughout his story, my anger faded. I remembered what it had been like to be in his hooves, pining for a better spot on the team, and as hard as I tried, I couldn't imagine what it would have been like to go through rejection on that scale. But one thing stuck in my mind. 'After my first show, I got a spread on the front page of all the papers. Dad framed them, every single one. He was so proud. What if he'd never gotten the chance?'

And in the end, I sighed and said, "I… I get it, bro."

He looked me in the eyes. Streak doesn't cry, but he was close. "I know you do, and that's why it kills me. I came really close, Soarin'." His eyes unfocused, and he shook his head. "Really, really close. I almost ended your career."

I forced myself to smile and sit up. "But you didn't. You made the right choice." For a second, I sounded like Dad, and in a way, I think I understood how he'd felt about me. As much as it burned me inside to think about Streak stabbing me in the back, I felt a lot of pride in him, too. He's my friend, and not only that, he trusted me enough to tell me the truth. He cared enough about our friendship that he didn't want any secrets between us. The more I thought about it, the less I had to force my smile. "Yeah, you pulled through, Streak, and that's what matters."

He smiled, too, just for a second. "That's what Spitfire said, too."

"See?" My wings spread out. "She's smart. You should listen to her." I jabbed his hoof from across the table. "You've got this leadership thing down, Streak."

"Feh," he huffed as he crouched down a little. "It's not always that simple. Friday's roster was… complicated."

"I do like my job, Streak." I laughed. "I mean, you're already a captain, bro. You don't need to worry about my position anymore, and sweet Luna, you made Bottom Line put me back in the show!" My pride in my friend swelled again. "Bro, if it wasn't for you, I wouldn't be back flying at…" Something was off, and I raised an eyebrow. "Uh… Streak?"

Streak had lifted his head, and I felt his bright blue eyes stare deeply into me. "I shouldn't have let you fly last night, Soarin'."

I stopped dead. My body was frozen for a few seconds, but then I shook my head and said, "Wait… what?"

Streak let out a long breath. "That's… actually what I needed to talk to you about. Besides the last few weeks, I mean. I made the wrong call, Soarin'. You shouldn't have flown last night."

My jaw hung open. "Dude, what the fuck?"

Streak winced. "Hear me out."

'How could he say that? Wasn't he listening? We've all had to go through so much bullshit just to get back to normal!' I slammed my hooves onto the table and rattled the glasses. "Streak, I thought you were freaking happy I was back!"

"I am!" His wings flared out, but he kept his voice mostly even. "I drove myself nuts this week, but I care about what you want. Why do you think I grilled you about how badly you wanted to fly last Tuesday?"

"Streak, I have to fly! My career would have been–"

"You think I didn't know that!?" His jaw clenched. "Soarin', I know how important this is to you. I understand. Really. More than anypony." He set his hooves down again and looked at me, and his voice got quiet. "But I put your career ahead of your safety." He covered his face with a hoof. "Tartarus, I didn't even give you the choice… It doesn't matter, though. You shouldn't have flown."

I felt cold. "…Safety?" I leaned in and turned my head. The S-word only came up when matters were serious. As far as I'd known, nothing had gone wrong at the show, but I suddenly felt doubt creep up my spine. "Streak… W-what are you getting at?"

He paused. Then, slowly, he reached into his saddlebag. He glanced at me, then solemnly drew out an envelope. It was a letter: the letter I'd written him from Appleloosa. He asked, "You know what this is?" I nodded. "Soarin'… Ugh! Soarin', this is hard."

Panic gripped me, but I told myself that of all the ponies in the world besides Braeburn, he was the one I could trust the most. I chuckled shakily. "Well, that's… why you're the captain, bro. You're the only one that can make the hard choices."

A tiny smile curled on his lips, then faded. He looked down at the envelope. "Soarin'… I need you to understand that I'm here for you."

My fur prickled, and I sat up rigidly. "You're freaking me out, bro." I breathed heavily, and my skin itched all over.

"I know," he said calmly. "But you really need to get it through your skull. You need to feel it. I'm here, and so is Spitfire, and we won't let the organization abandon you."

My chest felt tight. I snorted and demanded, "Streak, what the fuck is going on?"

Calmly, he took the letter out of the envelope and slid it to me. "What's it say?"

…

I glanced down without really looking at it, blinked a couple times, and looked back up. "It says I know you're going to do a good job."

"How much did you drink the night you wrote–"

I shouted, "None! Dude, what's your deal?"

Stone-faced, h-he…

Ugh…

Stone-faced, he said, "R–"

Fuck. Sorry. I…

He said, "Read it to me."

And I said, "Fine!" And I put my face right up close to the paper. "It says: Streak, I–"

He cut me off. "Read the first word."

I glared at him and jabbed the paper. "Streak, it's your fucking name!" And…

…

The–

The corners of his eyes drooped, and… quietly, he said, "No, it's not."

A-a-and I froze, and my throat sealed up, and when I looked back at the paper, the back of my neck felt really hot all of a sudden. And I think I had a headache, but I don't know, and I didn't, I didn't fucking, like… Ugh! I…

Fuck. Thank Luna for Streak. He stood up and stepped next to me. He wrapped his wing around me, like I was a foal, and I kept looking everywhere but at the paper. But he needed me to see it. With a careful hoof, he covered up the first word. He covered all of it except the last letter.

I could… I was so fucking scared, and I wanted to fly away and never come back, because I could see it. I could see it, but it wasn't…

He… h-he asked, "Soarin', what's–"

Dammit.

H-he…

Fuck! This shouldn't be this fucking hard!

"What letter is… is…" He asked me w-what l-letter… letter it…

* * * * *

Soarin' is hiding in his wings. I hear faint sobbing mixed with more cursing. He's shivering. The gazebo, the hill, the sky… Everything else feels completely still.

My skin tingles, and I try to will myself to speak, but the words catch in my throat. But I have to know. Gently, as gently as I can, I take a breath and ask, "Soarin'?"

He peeks out from behind his wings. His jaw is clenched tight, but he whispers, "Y-yeah?"

I make my voice as soothing as possible. "That crash in Honeycrisp's orchard, back when you met Braeburn… You hit your head on that tree, and…" I take a deep breath and swallow a lump in my throat. "Soarin', you have aphasia, don't you? You can't read anymore."

Soarin' heaves and hides behind his wings again.

There is a long moment. The air has gotten colder.

My inner professionalism is telling me to leave him alone. But that doesn't seem right. He seems distant now, not unlike Braeburn must have on the night of that party. My heart is heavy, and I fear I have no way to comfort him.

I scoot closer and gently stroke Soarin's back. It will have to do, but it feels so inadequate.

The fur on his back is very soft, and I can feel the tiny vibrations inside him as he breathes uneasily. The Wonderbolts on the posters and in the papers always look so strong and invincible. They don't get shaken. They don't flinch. But here's Soarin', right in front of me, and I think about how much more pain he's feeling than he's even letting on to.

It's quiet.

I continue petting him for another moment until I hear him mumble something, but I can't make it out. I say, "I'm sorry, Soarin'. I didn't hear you."

Slowly, Soarin' folds his wings back in. He looks at the sunlight, and I see the corners of his eyes still glistening with tears. A little louder, but still barely audible, he mumbles, "I said, now you know. I'm… damaged goods, Syn."

A feeling wells up in my chest. "You seem more like a survivor to me. You've come a hell of a long way on your own."

Soarin's words are breathy. "Doctor… Doctor Hope says I-I'm getting better. A little. But I dunno." He sinks into himself. "It's still just so hard to…"

He doesn't finish.

The scene around us feels calm, but uncomfortably so. It feels like there should be more, but the clouds and the gazebo and the air all seem callously indifferent to us. But I remind myself that we are not alone, and perhaps Soarin' needs to remember that there's somepony else here with him. We look at the slowly dying light together, and when I hear Soarin' start to sob again, I ask, "What's Skywise saying now?"

"Heh." Soarin' wipes his face with his fetlock, then pauses for a moment to listen. "He says I should keep going."

* * * * *

Art by SoarandBurn

I-I could feel the tears sting my eyes. I was scared, Syn. I was forcing myself to look, or Streak was forcing me to look, and… I can't describe it. Injuries are supposed to hurt. Your body is supposed to tell you when something's broken. That's what we've always been taught. I can't tell you how disturbing it is, how unsettling it is and how much it paralyzes you and leaves you feeling like a stranger to your own body to know that something inside you is so profoundly wrong.

That first word of the letter. It was supposed to be 'Streak.' I held my breath, looked at the last letter of that word, and whispered, "It's a 't.'"

I felt a light squeeze on my shoulder. Streak said, "Soarin'… you said you crashed into a tree in the orchard, but Braeburn didn't bring you to a hospital."

I tried to snap at him, but my voice came out a lot weaker than I wanted. "It's not Braeburn's fault."

"Sorry. That's not what I meant. I should have said… I thought the letter was a fluke, but you couldn't read Bottom Line's hoofwriting either, could you?"

I shook my head, and I felt my brain throw up its self-defense mechanisms. My body hung slack, but I managed to mumble, "His hoofwriting is terrible."

Sternly, Streak responded, "His writing is pristine, Soarin'."

"This… This isn't right. This isn't right!" I put a hoof on the letter and pushed it away. "Streak, this is sick! Why are you doing this? I know I can read!" I fished around in my head. My untrustworthy head. My tail thrashed behind me, and my hooves shook. Everything shook, and my heart beat so fast I thought it would give out. "How could I not notice something wrong like this? This letter's not real! It's fake!"

Calmly, Streak asked, "Soarin', have you had any other–"

"It's fake!!!" I hid my face with my hooves. I could hear the blood pumping in my ears, and the room spun around me.

Fire Streak set a hoof on my shoulder and took a breath. "Soarin', for your–"

"Whitewing's Big Score!" I jumped out of my chair and put a hoof on his shoulder, pleading with him with my eyes. "W-Whitewing's Big Score!" I searched his face, begging for a sign that this was hazing, that it was a joke. "It's a book Braeburn gave me! I-I was reading it!"

Streak's eyes lit up with hope. "When?"

"Just last…" My eyes widened, and I set my hoof down. "I mean, a couple weeks ago, I…" I was starting to put everything together. 'I could read it in Appleloosa…'

But then I remembered more. I remembered trying to read it in Salt Lick City, just before we'd visited his parents. I'd found myself reading pages over and over again, trying to process them. At the time, I'd thought I was just tired, but…

I remembered that mysterious bruise I'd gotten on the train ride to Ponyville, the one that had appeared overnight that I'd had no memory of. How could I not remember hitting my head so hard? It was impossible, unless I'd already concussed myself so badly that I was vulnerable to another injury. And if that was the case…

I remembered the bottle of lube Rarity had given us on the trip back to Manehattan. Sure, the writing had been small, but I'd leaned in and squinted hard, and I'd had no idea what it said. How many other red flags had I completely dismissed?

Answering my own question, I remembered Braeburn's shopping list.

And the specials board at the Bad Sun Rising.

And Bottom Line's writing.

And I remembered baking apple pies with Braeburn. During our date at Honeycrisp's farm, it had taken all my focus just to read the words 'flour the work surface.' But if that had been bad, then the pot pies had been worse. Six trowels of whale. Extra fake crust. It had only been three days between making that dinner and talking with Streak.

My body nearly crumbled as I thought, 'It's progressing,' and I felt the cold horror burrowing into my soul. Even when I'd been cooking with Braeburn, all those times that we'd been having fun or goofing off or making love… All the times that I had felt safest, it had been there. It had been inside me, slowly eating me away.

I looked back down to the letter, forced myself to stare. "I-I can still read it. I can still read it." I was lying. "Whitewing's Big… I'll be able to finish Braeburn's book. It'll be fine. I'm fine."

Streak hugged me again. "I'm sorry, Soarin'."

My voice became bouncy again, and my body felt light. I couldn't figure out why. "You don't need to be. I'm fine." I felt dizzy, but I chuckled and said, "Ha! Had me going there, Streak. Guess you really are insecure about your position." I punched his shoulder and laughed woodenly and very, very loudly. "Haha! Nothing to worry about, bro. You're a great captain, and I'm fine."

Streak frowned. "Soarin', you're not."

"I am!" I slammed my hoof on the table and felt white-hot rage pulse inside me out of nowhere. My emotions kept reversing so fast I thought I'd get sick. "I'm fine! It's okay. I'm okay." My head whipped back to him. "You're not going to tell anypony about this!"

Without breaking eye contact, he shook his head. "I'm not choosing your career over your safety again, Soarin'." My brain stalled. "You have an appointment with Doctor Hope. He's being discreet." He was talking about Doctor Radiant Hope, a head injury specialist the 'Bolts have a contract with. "You're seeing him tomorrow at his private practice."

I snorted. "Don't have to. I'm fine."

Fire Streak's chest inflated and deflated rapidly, but he remained stoic. "You will see him, Soarin'. Captain's orders."

I stared him down. Through gritted teeth, I said, "I refuse."

"Then you're fired." The air was still, and I felt like I was made of glass. Fire Streak locked eyes with me and slowly shook his head. "Celestia as my witness, I'll do it, Soarin'."

"You can't," I growled.

"I can, Soarin', and if I can't, Bottom Line will."

My hackles raised, and I stepped forward, jamming my face against his. "You fucking traitor!"

His eyes pouted, and he quietly said, "Hard choices, Soarin'! I love you, and this is for the best." I started to yell again, but he interrupted, "Listen! You passed the physical inspection this week, and you're not the first one to ever get injured. There's a good chance you'll fly again, maybe even this week."

It had barely even dawned on me – what did the aphasia mean for my career? 'Am I done? How many shows do I have left before it becomes debilitating? How am I going to support Braeburn?' My eyes widened, and I felt dizzy, and all the anger drained out of me, leaving me hollow. 'What's Braeburn going to think when he finds out? He's going to blame himself. Dammit, he's going to blame himself! It's not his fault! He tried to help me. He tried!'

I zoned out, and all I could think about was sitting at the kitchen table, stuttering and trying to tell him. And I imagined him crying. And blaming himself. And drinking. And leaving.

And leaving.

'I can't tell him.'

I breathed heavily. I wanted to be angry again. Anger is powerful. It pushes you forward and tells you there's still something you can do. Numbness leaves you with nothing. My eyes fell to the letter, but I turned away and shook my head. "Promise?" I felt myself pouting at Streak.

Streak put a hoof on my shoulder. "Soarin', I can't promise you'll be clear to fly, but no matter what, I swear I'll get you through this. Please trust me." He took his hoof from my shoulder and held it out.

I looked at his hoof for a long time, just waiting for him to pull it back. My lip quivered, and my voice was low. "I'm scared, Streak."

He nodded. "Me, too."

Instead a hoof-bump, we hugged again, and with very few other words, we left. I didn't grab the leftovers. As we flew back, Streak kept asking if I needed anything, but I didn't respond. I wanted to be alone. And I wanted to be with Braeburn. He flew me back to the edge of the Estates, and when I asked him to leave me there, he understood.

The last stretch of the flight home felt heavy. My brain tingled, and my stomach felt like it was full of acid. My flight was shaky, and as I neared our condo, I felt myself struggling not to cry. My breaths came thick and labored, and even though the sun was on my back, I felt cold. I flew even slower to try and delay the inevitable.

Home felt foreign again, just like after I'd been cut. There were so many questions I didn't have answers to. I didn't know how bad the injury was, and just thinking about it made me sick. I didn't know how Braeburn would react or if I could even manage to tell him. No, I'd already decided I wouldn't. 'He can't know.'

I walked in, and the aftermath of the party had been mostly cleaned up. It seemed like a week ago, maybe more. The condo was back to normal, which was the most unsettling part of all: I'd thought my new normal was a happy life with Braeburn, but now I had a head injury that threatened to screw everything up. 'It doesn't have to be that way,' I told myself. 'I'll get it taken care of, and it will all go away.'

I wandered through the condo and thought about calling to Braeburn, but my voice caught in my throat. Water was rushing in the shower upstairs. I wanted to go up there and jump in the shower with him. It would have been just like normal: I could sneak in, let the water keep running, and kiss him all up and down his neck. I could press my body into his and feel the hot water rush over us as our contact got more and more intimate. At the right moment, I could have him moaning up against the wall, and for a few minutes, all my problems would melt away. I took the first step up the stairs.

And my legs buckled. I nearly broke down, and I knew I could never fake it long enough to convince him I was okay.

So instead, I wandered into the parlor.

And there it was.

My bookshelf, which Braeburn had repaired with his own hooves, stood against the wall of the parlor. And on the middle shelf, all on its own, was 'Whitewing's Big Score.'

I spent a long time just standing there, staring at it, so transfixed that I didn't hear Braeburn stop the shower. I don't think my heart was beating, and I couldn't look away from that book. I had to know. I walked over, reached up a shaky hoof, and grabbed it. It felt heavier than I'd remembered.

I took it to the kitchen and set it on the table with a soft thud. The bookmark stuck out, mocking me, and I slowly opened to the page I'd marked. I told myself that I wouldn't look away, that I would blink a few times and realize that there was no problem at all, that it was all just a nightmare, and in a few seconds, everything would be fine. I tried to read the first sentence on the page.

…

And I wept.

"Soarin'?"

My head turned towards a mostly-dry, beautiful stallion that looked blurry through my tears. He stood frozen, deep lines on his forehead and his lips slightly parted in a frown. Gently, like he was speaking to a delicate foal, he asked, "Soarin', what's wrong?"

I tried to hold it back. I tried to tell myself that Braeburn didn't need to know. That I was protecting him and that he wouldn't be able to forgive himself. A giant knot had formed in my stomach, a source of pain and discomfort that wracked my body, but I told myself I could live with it. I pleaded with myself. I made promises that I would do whatever it took, as long as Braeburn didn't have to know. As long as I didn't have to hurt him like that.

But I looked into his eyes, and he looked back at me. He was already starting to tear up, too, and he didn't even know what was wrong. He just saw that I was in pain, and that was all it took for him to walk up to me, wrap me in a hug, and whisper in my ear. "I love you, Big Blue, and whatever secret you got ain't gonna change that."

And in the blink of an eye, I was clinging to him, and it all flooded out.

Chapter 38 - Regression

Everything spilled out of me in a jumbled mess. "Braeb– M-my head," I gasped. "I c-can't–"

Braeburn, steady and still, held me close. "It's alright, it's alright, Big Blue. Let's get a little more comfortable." We moved to the couch – he was careful to never let go of me – where he stroked my wings as I choked on my words. He lay down on his back, and I rested my head on his fuzzy chest. He still smelled like an orchard. He was starting to smell like me, too.

Braeburn said, barely above a whisper, "Now, you got your big, strong earth pony holdin' you, and I'll be damned if I let you down, so let it all out." His voice had a slight rush, and I caught him searching my face, but he kept calm for me. He pressed my body into his, because he didn't want me to feel alone even for a second. That little bit of contact is the only thing that kept me from falling apart even more.

I tried to speak, but instead, I just shivered.

Braeburn stroked my wings and held me tightly with one foreleg. Gently, he cooed into my ear, "It's okay, Soarin'. I'm right here. Take all the time you need." His chest rose and fell slowly, and my heartbeat slowed to match the soothing thump-thump in his chest. 'It's so strong…'

"I… I-I can't…" I cried into him again, but he waited. "I don't want to tell you."

Braeburn kissed my ear. "Why not? Big Blue, if it's about me, then it's best to speak the truth. No good ever comes from keepin' your complaints inside."

"It's… It's not you." I sniffled and wiped my face with a fetlock. "But Applebutt, you're gonna blame yourself."

His chest rumbled. "Heh heh. I'll blame whoever I damn well please, but that shouldn't stop you, Blue. If I screwed up, I'll make it right. That ain't your burden, though, so let me shoulder it."

I looked into his eyes again, and a soothing coolness worked through me. His eyes sparkled with compassion and love and concern, and he didn't show fear. He was going to be my big, strong earth pony, the coltfriend I needed. He wasn't going to abandon me. "I love you, Braeburn."

He craned his neck down and kissed my lips, long and soft and slow. It was warm. No tongue, but a little suction, enough that I could feel both his gentleness and his strength. He drew back. "Love you, too, Soarin'. So tell me. Don't hold back."

I rested my head on his chest again and just smelled him. I lost myself on that scent, focused on it, and over the next half an hour, I managed to tell him everything.

And Braeburn tried. Please don't think badly of him. He tried not to flinch, but we were too close for me not to notice. Not just physically. I knew him too well not to feel his breathing get heavier, his stroking get more erratic, and his heartrate increase. But he tried, and he listened, and he gave me all the time I needed, right until I finished and he said, "That's… I… I'm so sorry, Big Blue. I'm sorry…" He squeezed me again. We held on like that until we'd settled down, and the room fell still.

Several minutes passed, all in the quiet. His fur was still just the tiniest bit wet, and the condo felt huge and empty.

Braeburn chuckled sarcastically. "Picked a hell of a day to quit drinkin'."

He could always make me smile. "Heh. No kidding." I knew he was just joking. He had to be joking.

Braeburn patted my side and kissed my forehead. "I ain't no barkeep, but I bet I could throw somethin' together for us. Heh." He squeezed me again. "If your teammates left us anythin' last night, that is."

I felt fuzzy and numb. And heavy. I assumed I'd misheard him, so I lifted my head, blinked a couple times, and swiveled my ears toward him. "What?"

"Just a little pick-me-up." He smiled warmly, like nothing was wrong. "Get us through the day. Celestia knows we both need it."

My jaw slowly opened and hung there. 'He's serious.'

Braeburn looked towards the kitchen. "I think Chill left his gin. Might be able to mix somethin'–"

"Please don't," I said with quiet firmness.

He ran a hoof through my mane. "Aw, don't worry, Soarin'. It'll make us feel better."

I frowned and shook my head, away from his hoof. I wanted to say more, but I couldn't manage anything besides, "No, it won't. Why–"

"Yes, it will," he said more stiffly. "It's just a drink, Big Blue. It ain't gonna hurt."

I furrowed my brows. "You told me you wanted to quit. Last night."

He snorted. "Soarin', be reasonable. There's been nothin' but bad news today." He sneered and let go of me to gesture widely with a hoof. "You can't expect me to quit cold turkey after hearin' how I damn near killed you!"

The back of my neck prickled, and I sat up. "Dude! I told you you'd blame yourself! It's not your fault!" I swallowed hard. "You're not a doctor. You didn't know. You did your best."

"And my best wasn't good enough!" He teared up a little. "Soarin', please. I just need somethin' small – one drink – just to clear my head. Promise."

I wanted to be angry and shout more about how I'd been right, but Braeburn needed me, and that was so much more powerful than my ego. I took a deep breath, lay back down on him, and hugged him tightly. "You said you wanted help. I'm not letting you down."

Braeburn squirmed and rolled his eyes. "Oh, Celes– I was drunk, Soarin'! You can't take what I said so seriously!"

A sudden memory flashed into my head. My whole body drooped, especially my face. "But–"

He glowered. "But what?"

I looked up at him. I knew I was about to hurt him, but I couldn't help it. "You also said you wouldn't leave me over a few trees."

Braeburn started to snarl, but then his eyebrows raised, and he gasped and covered his mouth with a hoof. "Oh m– Oh, sweet Celestia! I-I'm sorry, Big Blue! I-I… dammit! I didn't mean that!"

"Didn't mean what?" I sniped.

He held me again, but I didn't melt into him like I should have. "Oh, dammit. I'm sorry, Big Blue. Fuck me…" He squeezed tighter. "Ugh, dammit. Here you're sufferin', and you need me to be strong, and I'm…" His voice got quiet. "And I went and made it all about myself. I don't deserve you, Big Blue."

Braeburn was sad. He still needed me.

I hugged him back. "We need each other, Applebutt."

He paused, and his grip loosened, and his voice became quieter. "You're right, you sexy bastard." He looked out towards the kitchen. "I shouldn't have said any of that. This whole week, I've been thinkin' about what I'm missin' back home, but that's not where my head should be. Life ain't just about reasons to leave. It's about findin' a reason to stay, and you're worth a hell of a lot more than a whole orchard of trees."

The tension began melting away, and I cuddled into him. "Heh. Even an orchard you grew yourself?"

"Even more than that." He lifted my head to face him. "I mean it, Big Blue, and I'm stickin' by you. You're the best coltfriend I've ever had, and Bronze sure never told me to take it easy on the sauce. Hell, nopony in town did, even when they saw how bad it was. All they did was gossip and spread rumors about what a mess I was. You're special, and I'm sayin' it now, sober as the day I was born: I'm stickin' by you."

Even as awful as I felt, something inside me sparked. "Promise?"

He rubbed his face against mine and whispered into my ear, "Promise."

And I believed him.

Art by SoarandBurn, used with permission

We took the rest of the day off. Braeburn cooked, I cleaned and did some laundry, and we both tried to pretend everything was normal. Braeburn didn't even read the paper when we he had free time. He just touched up the paint on the furniture instead, even though it didn't need it. He even let me do all the grunt work for dinner so I wouldn't have to look at a recipe, and in the evening, we took a long walk around the Estates, hardly talking but standing close together to share body heat. We went to bed early and spent a long time just talking about stories from when we were kids. Happy stories. For the first day since we'd arrived, we didn't have sex, but honestly, I didn't miss it that much. I had my coltfriend, and he had me. We spent hours just cuddling, and Braeburn massaged my head, like he was trying to fix my brain himself, and I fell asleep wrapped up in his forelegs.

In the morning, we took things slowly, and we even slept in. Yeah, Braeburn, too. Maybe he was catching up after the party, or maybe he'd been up all night worrying about me.

After breakfast, Braeburn noticed how quickly I was stuffing random insurance papers into a saddlebag and walking towards the door. He met me in the hallway and said, "I'm goin' with you, Soarin'. Don't bother fightin' me over it."

I sighed. "Yeah, I know." There was a knock on the door. I answered it, and there, grimacing, was Fire Streak.

Standing next to Spitfire.

She wore her full uniform, including her sunglasses, and spoke down to me. "You're running late. Appointment's in twenty minutes."

I shrunk. Seeing your superior when you know you've failed them, even a little, does that. "Streak told you?"

"Eventually." Even behind her glasses, I could see her eyes flick towards Streak. "The safety of our fliers and our fans needs to be our top priority." Her voice was stiff and to-the-point, and she stood rigidly. "We'll escort you there, and I'll read the full report from Doctor Hope personally."

I glared at Fire Streak, but he maintained his composure. "We're doing this because we care, Soarin'."

'You could try showing it a little more,' I thought. If they wanted to play rough, though… "I know. Thanks, Streak. Thanks, Shitfire."

Spitfire ripped her sunglasses off her face and ground her teeth. "What was that, Windsong?"

Streak stifled a snicker, and Braeburn openly laughed behind me.

I cocked my head to the side. "What? Did I say something wrong, Captain Shit Flier?" I theatrically slapped my hooves to my cheeks. "Oh no! It's affecting my speech!"

She let out a breath and sneered. Her eyes narrowed, and she pursed her lips to one side of her mouth. "Very funny, Windsong."

I spoke in an exaggerated tone, flared out my wings, and turned up my nose. "There's nothing funny about my condition, Tits Higher. This has been very hard on us."

"I can tell," she mumbled, half-giggling. "Let's go, before we're late." As she turned away with Streak, she said over her shoulder, "And I'm glad you're okay."

My heart warmed, and I saluted. "Thanks, Cli–"

Spitfire shot a glare at me that stopped me cold, and when she caught Streak snickering, she stuffed a hoof in his mouth. "You're fired."

They'd brought us a sky cab. As we got in, an awkward silence hung in the air. My jokes didn't seem funny to me anymore, and for once in my life, I think I'd actually crossed my own line. 'Huh. That's what it feels like. That's… kind of a dick move, Me.' I didn't know anything about my aphasia at that time except that it was getting worse. I gulped and wondered, 'Is it gonna take out my speech, too, someday?'

The air inside the cab suddenly felt stale, and as Spitfire shut the door, I remembered a funeral I'd gone to as a colt. It had been some great aunt or something on Mom's side, somepony I'd barely known. I didn't understand what it meant, not until Mom and Dad and I had gotten in the cab and everything had gone quiet. Something felt wrong about that ride, and neither of my parents were doing anything to fix it. Spitfire and Fire Streak wore the same expressions Mom and Dad had: the rigid smiles that try to tell you everything is going to be okay but that really let you know the opposite.

I didn't want to think of Spitfire and Fire Streak as my parents. Streak could never live up, and I refused to drag my opinion of Spitfire that far down. But I kept seeing it in the way they looked at me, and I realized how many times they'd helped us, over and over, and they were doing it again, way more than I deserved. I felt really special, but…

…but I hated it, too. I didn't want to be the pony everypony else had to take care of. Being a Wonderbolt means always being in control, but there I was, quietly obeying two other ponies, one of which I still outranked. I clenched my jaw and shook my head. I didn't want to think about it anymore.

We took off. Braeburn sat quietly while the rest of us went over Wonderbolt protocol. I knew the policy pretty well, but going over it again was a good distraction. Doctor Hope would do a full assessment and write a report about my condition, including a recommendation about whether or not I was clear to fly. I would probably have to sit out one show, just to be safe, but they would consider giving me a flashy bit part just to keep the media off our backs. We'd use the "new stunt that's tough to perfect" excuse. Safety first, though.

I told them to give Sightseer my spot. Officially, it was because he was used to roster changes on the fly, but unofficially, it was because he'd been nice to Braeburn. Yeah, big surprise, right? We pick favorites, just like everypony else.

We arrived at a small, white building at the edge of downtown Cloudsdale. It looked clean and had green plants out front, which showed that the business was doing well. The wooden sign above the double-wide doors had gold lettering that read, "Doctor Radiant Hope – Neurologist."

I got out of the cab, but Braeburn nearly bumped into me when I hesitated outside. My stomach crawled up into my throat bit by bit as I slowly made my way to the doors. My eyes never left the sign. 'Neurologist.' It made my brain feel warm, which made me wonder how quickly my condition could get worse. 'Is this what brain damage feels like?' I snapped my head forward and stood up straight, eyes wide. 'I should stop tilting my head back.'

After we checked in, Spitfire pulled me aside and asked, "You going to be okay if I go work on the flight reviews?"

I felt a pang in my chest. I wanted her to be there, but she was leaving. 'She's not Mom,' I told myself. With a cheesy smile, I waved a dismissive hoof. "Meh, I'll be fine."

"Good. Until I see you again, focus on getting better. Streak and I'll figure out the PR angle, so everything will be fine." She put her glasses on and smirked. "As long as you don't do anything stupid between now and Wednesday."

I stuck out my lower lip. "Weeeeell, then you're doomed."

"A pony can dream." She flared out her wings and turned to go. "Get better, Soarin'. The team's not the same without you." I felt a snarky comment rise in my throat, but I kept it down and just enjoyed the compliment as I walked her out the door.

Spitfire flew away, and my leg twitched. 'She's leaving.' I felt my wings reflexively start to flare out until I caught myself. My mouth tasted like bile. I shook my head, walked back to the others, and mumbled to myself, "She's not Mom."

Radiant Hope wasn't open long on Sundays, but he was staying late just for me (or more likely, for the fat check the Wonderbolts cut him every time he treats one of us). I sat down in the comfortable lobby, which was full of plush chairs and abstract wall art, all in a purple and light blue color scheme. A tired-looking mare with diamond earrings slumped in a chair about three meters away, but besides her, it was just me, Braeburn, Streak, and the receptionist, listening to the ticking of a wooden clock. Braeburn stroked my wings, which helped, but a couple feathers caught in his horse shoe.

I looked up and said quietly to Streak, "Heh. Sorry about ruining your date last night. Was it bad?"

Streak pursed his lips. "Bro, you don't know fear until you've gotten caught lying to Spitfire." He adjusted his wings. "I told her before dinner. She'd realized I was hiding something, and I didn't want to pretend everything was fine. She would have seen right through me."

I nodded. "She must have been pissed."

Streak shrugged his shoulders. "Honestly, the first thing she said was how we need to make sure you're okay. She even told me to look into counseling services. But, yeah, after I told her about it, I got my head bitten off for five minutes."

I raised an eyebrow. "Just five?"

Fire Streak nodded. "Something changes when Spitfire thinks of you as an equal, you know? It's not just business all the time. She trusts us. I had a chance to explain everything, and she listened." He shrugged. "I mean, she didn't agree with my decision, but she understood why I did it. She, I dunno…"

Braeburn said, "She's forgiving, at least when your heart's in the right place."

"Yeah." Streak smirked. "So, you didn't actually ruin my night. It got a lot better after that."

I grinned. "Oh really?"

"I think she was impressed that I'd told the truth." His smile faltered. "Or maybe we were both just scared. Hearing about an injury like, uh…" He blinked a few times, and I could see him trying to dance around his words. "…yours… I-it makes you wonder if you might have something, too. It reminds you how fragile you are, and how dangerous this job is, and you just want to live, you know? You want to feel alive."

I put a hoof on Braeburn's.

Braeburn said, "You're right."

There was a moment of silence, but then I chirped, "But… it was pretty hot, right?"

Streak's face lit up, and he smiled, biting his lower lip as his eyes rolled back into his head. "Bro, you don't even know! Her body is svelte and fit and perfect. You don't appreciate it until it's right up against you, and sweet Celestia does she know what she's doing!"

I snickered. "Nice. You let her take the reins?"

"I never had them to begin with." He waved one hoof. "But that's all you're getting, and don't tell her I talked about it."

"No problem," I said as I tried to figure out the best way to tell her. I settled on, 'Right before a press conference with all three of us!' I turned back to Braeburn and nudged him. "Maybe you and Spitfire could swap techniques sometime."

Before Braeburn could answer, a nurse opened the door to the back. "Soarin'? We're ready for you."

I waved at the nurse, then kissed Braeburn and stood up. "Wish me luck."

Braeburn stood up and hugged me. "I'll be right here, Soarin'. Love you."

"Love you, too." I hugged Braeburn, gave Streak a hoof-bump, and went in.

The nurse led me to an exam room, the kind you find at any hospital: it had a cold table, sterile equipment everywhere, and a complete lack of color. The exam started with the usual stuff: vitals, general health questions, depression screening, that kind of thing. She took my results out of the room, and I was left to argue with myself about whether or not I should swipe a lollipop from the dish on the counter.

After fifteen minutes of waiting (and six lollipops), she came back and led me to Doctor Hope's office. It looked more like a study, full of books that were – I assume – about brain structure and general medical practice. Along with a few plastic models of brains, the books filled up bookshelves that were made of dark, red wood and complimented the plush, burgundy carpet. The room felt cozy and inviting, and the warm colors and low light gave it a mild glow. Radiant Hope sat behind an oversized oak desk that was mostly clear except for the calendar, writing utensils, a file, a picture frame that faced away from me, and a stack of large cards to his right.

Doctor Radiant Hope was a pegasus, and he wore a slightly small white dress shirt that highlighted his barely-pink coat. He was about my size, but his wings were a bit small, and his wavy pink-and-orange mane had been neatly brushed. It had a few wisps of grey, and he wore these thick, chic glasses, but he didn't look old old. Just… mature. Almost fatherly, especially with that warm, half-lidded expression he always wore. "Good morning, Soarin'. Please come in," he said in a low, smooth voice, the kind that all highly-trained professionals seem to use. He walked around the desk to shake my hoof. "I'm sorry you had to come in today, but it's an honor to finally meet you."

"Likewise," I said as we sat down.

"So," he said, adjusting to his seat. "Mr. Streak tells me he has some concerns about the Wonderbolts' star flier. Good of him to speak up. You're lucky to have a friend like him."

I thought back to everything Streak had done for me. "You have no idea."

"We should all be so lucky." He straightened up his back. "I know your time is valuable, and I'd like to get started, if that's alright." He made a short sweeping motion with his hoof. "May I?"

I sighed. "Yeah, let's do this."

Taking a piece of paper from the file and dipping his quill in the ink, he said, "Very good. Now, in your own words, why have you come in today?"

I smirked. "Because my co-captains made me."

He snickered. "Yes, I've heard about that wit of yours. I suppose I'll have to ask my questions more carefully. So, how about this: why would a healthy Wonderbolt like you need to see a brain specialist?"

The conversation had gone from warm and jokey to cold and serious all over again. I shifted in my seat and mumbled. "Just… some… weird stuff."

He cocked his head to the side. "Such as?"

My voice got even quieter. "I'm… having trouble reading." I winced. 'No big deal. I'll get over it.'

There's no way he heard me, but then again, Streak probably told him everything before the appointment. "Well, that can certainly be scary, but you've done the brave thing and made the right choice by coming in today. I promise you, you're in good hooves, and I'll do everything I can to assist you."

"Thanks," I said a little louder.

"So, let's see if we can get to the root of the problem." He opened the file on his desk back up. "All your vitals look normal, as do the preliminary blood tests, but it will be another day or so before we know for sure." He looked up. "Injuries can sometimes lead to these sorts of issues. Have you had any recent head trauma?"

I hesitated and remembered telling Braeburn about all of it. My throat tightened up, and my neck felt hot as I relived that moment in the orchard, that agonizing few seconds where I'd completely lost control, felt myself falling sideways, and heard that loud crack just before everything went dark. 'It was probably a dream. It didn't really happen.'

Radiant Hope relaxed his shoulders and smiled at me. "Soarin', I imagine you're worried." His voice became even more soothing. "But I'm here to help. I'm no psychologist, of course, but I've spoken to a lot of ponies in your position. What's on your mind?"

It was something about the way he phrased it, the way the words glided out of his mouth. "I'm scared, Doc. It's not just the head injury – even though that's bucking terrifying – but…" I shrugged and chewed on the inside of my cheek. "…like, what about my career? And the media? And…" I remembered Braeburn. I remembered how hard it would be to support us. "There's a lot riding on me flying again, and I... I-I don't want to get cut from the team."

Mentally, I added, '…again.'

Radiant Hope nodded. "I understand." He spoke calmly and leaned in a little. "Soarin', I know how important stunt flying is to all the Wonderbolts. It's a lesson I've learned many time by working closely with the team for over twenty years. Of course, if it were up to me, your line of work wouldn't exist. Far too dangerous." He sighed and straightened his glasses. "But it's not up to me, and I wouldn't presume to dictate how ponies live their lives. I hope you understand, though, that the Wonderbolts wouldn't keep sending their fliers to me if I kept grounding them without proper cause." He made sure we had eye contact before he continued. "So I promise, Soarin', that I'll give you a fair assessment, and I'll clear you to fly if I can, but to do that, I'll need all the information you can give me. Do you think you can do that?"

It felt like I had to make a big choice, even though there was only one option. Everything in those days felt that way, like every step I took was a struggle, a big metal ring I had to fly through over and over. I wanted things to be easy, but I guess that would have been too much to ask.

I sighed. "Yeah."

For the next twenty minutes, I explained about the crash in the apple orchard and that bruise I'd woken up with on the train ride to Ponyville, when it all started getting worse. He asked a ton of questions about my symptoms, including how many times I'd noticed having trouble reading. I told him as much as I could, but it never seemed like enough. As time went on, his questions went from "How did it feel?" to "Would you describe the pain and more burning, numbing, or sharp?" to "Can you tell me everything you did to treat yourself after that crash, including what you ate and how hydrated you were?" I felt my chest tighten as I answered "I don't know!" for the hundredth time, and he scribbled a few more notes onto a page in a file.

After a wordless minute of pen scratching on paper, he set down his quill and sighed. "Thank you, Soarin'. My hoof's tired, so I think we can stop," he said with a smile. "You've been very helpful, and it was very brave of you to stick it out through all my questions." There was that word again: brave. I didn't need to be reminded. I wasn't a colt. "The brain is a complicated organ, and the more information we have, the better. On that note, I'd like to give you a Magical Refraction Imaging scan. If you have time today, we have the machine down the hall, and I can ask my assistant to set it up."

I blinked. "Uh…"

Radiant Hope chuckled. "You're wondering what in Tartarus the machine does?" I nodded. "Well, it will let us see into your brain and highlight any irregularities or internal damage, which will make your condition easier to diagnose. It's very routine, and it's covered by the Wonderbolts' insurance. I think it would be for the best." I agreed, and after he'd found an assistant in the hall and told her to set everything up, he sat back down.

He sighed. His smile became a little more wooden, but he still had soft eyes. He was good at staying calm. "So, while that's getting set up…" He patted the pile of large cards next to him. "I'd like to spend some time assessing your current reading level, if that's alright."

'…Buck!' The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I wondered exactly how much more my nerves could take.

He folded his hooves. "It's a standard exercise, and it will tell us quite a lot. Would you mind trying?"

I sat up and tried to speak with an even voice. "Sure, Doc. Whatever you need me to do." Unfortunately, my voice was less "even" and more "colt going through puberty."

"Excellent," he said, picking up the first card and showing me the blank side. "Each of these cards has a sentence printed on it. I'm going to show you a card, and you're going to read it aloud as fast as you can. Don't worry about accuracy. I'm just testing your speed."

It was bullshit, of course. Accuracy was the only thing he was measuring. He just said that so he'd get honest results. I understand it now, but at the time, I had to grunt and clench my jaw. I didn't like being treated like a foal. "Yeah, sure."

"Any questions?" When I shook my head, he said, "Good. Here's the first one. Remember, just read it out loud as quickly as you can." He flipped the card over.

I squinted and focused as much as I could, but after a second, I rolled my eyes and growled, "The pony is big."

"Very good," he said with way too much enthusiasm, scribbling a note down into my file. "How about this one?" He put down the card and held up another one.

I focused again, almost as hard. "My friends played hoofball yesterday," I mumbled. I could read it just fine, but the words were weighty, like it was hard to lift them to my mouth. I felt like I was in kindergarten again, and Hope's tone had gone from comforting to condescending.

"Good work, Soarin'. Here's–"

"Seriously?" I raised an eyebrow. "Doc, you don't need to give me the special snowflake treatment."

He just smiled calmly. "I know they appear simplistic, Soarin', but they're a valuable tool, and they will increase in difficulty. Just stick with it. Here's the next one." He held it up.

I sneered and blew air out of my lips. I didn't focus. "Uncle magic can be extraordinarily powerful." My eyes shot wide open. "Wait! I-I meant uni–"

He'd snapped the card down and was writing more notes. "Don't worry. You're doing well. It's alright. Next." He held up another card.

My pulse raced, and I hesitated.

He turned the card down. "As fast as you can, please. You can do fast, right, Soarin'?" He was still speaking in a kindly voice, I'm sure, but it felt like he was hissing at me.

I swallowed hard. "Y… Yeah."

"Ready?"

I paused, then nodded.

He showed me again.

And I felt my lip quiver. "Everypony dived their fal… favorite c-cookies to the Sun–" Quickly, I spat out, "Saturday picnic."

"Good." It wasn't. It didn't make sense. "Next."

'What's happening? I'm better than this. I wish Braeburn was here.' My chest tightened up. My voice became stiff, and I focused as hard as I could, but my thoughts were all over the place. 'This isn't happening. I need Braeburn. Where's Braeburn?'

He held up the card. My pulse raced as I nearly shouted, "Minister Apple terror apple…" I sucked in a quick breath. My heart stopped. I kept pushing forward, but my chest felt hollow. "…p-propose he…" I paused again, just for a split second, but it was enough to feel like my entire body was deflating. I barely whispered, "…love Braeburn…"

Hope smiled and gently set the card down. "Would you like to continue?"

My hoof shook. I wanted to jump out of my seat, grab the cards, and shove them in his face. I wanted to draw him a picture of ponies diving with cookies, just to prove it was a real thing that happened, then rip the cards to shreds. I wanted to scream at him and tell him I was fine.

But everything felt too heavy, and besides, Dad wouldn't have approved. "No, I don't," I said softly, my eyes dropping to the floor. My wings and ears both drooped. "Doc… What's happening to me?"

In that same pleasant voice, he said, "You're a fighter, Soarin', and so is that brain of yours. It may not seem like it right now, but those were good results overall. We'll know more after your scan. It should be about ready."

"…Fine."

Radiant Hope led me into the hallway, which was decorated with a less-plush carpet and a bunch of plants. The walls were made of cloud but had been painted a deep, forest green with Magi-Mist. I trudged closely behind him, ears down, like I was going to the principal's office. I felt small in that hallway, smaller than I had in a long time, and I barely noticed that I'd walked into another sterile, white room with giant, metal cylinder inside.

The MRI was awful. Inside the cylinder, I had to lie in this metal sling with my legs dangling below me and a clamp over my face to keep my head still. It was padded, at least, but they put blinders on to keep me calm, and a nurse stuck some foam earplugs in. I was suspended in nothingness, and when I had trouble keeping still, they gave me a mild sedative. It made my head feel fuzzy and gave my muscles this weird, unnaturally relaxed feeling, so I guess it worked, but I could still feel myself suck in a breath every time I realized how trapped I was. I had to imagine that Braeburn had tied me up just to relax. Thank Luna they were only taking pictures of my head.

It didn't get any better when they started the machine. Even with the earplugs, it was loud. Being inside it felt like being a newborn in one of those bouncy crib things, but way more extreme. It made this rhythmic, blaring siren noise, like BWEH BWEH BWEH BWEH BWEH! It distracted me for a few seconds, but then, my thoughts started piling up.

I wasn't scared, really. I just… kept thinking, 'Why is this happening? What happens if I'm broken? What if it can't be fixed? Would Radiant Hope even tell me the truth? My head throbbed along with the pulses of the machine – I think it was the magic taking the image of my brain – and my thoughts kept looping through all the worst possibilities. My wings tried to flare out on their own, but they were locked in place, and even twitching them was difficult with the sedative still in me.

But I kept telling myself, 'Braeburn said he'd stick by me. I'm not alone.' And that brought me peace, at least as long as I wasn't thinking, 'I hope he meant it.'

The scan finished, and I was led back to the waiting room, where it was just Braeburn and Streak. Braeburn jumped up and ran to me as soon as I came out of the door, but he didn't say anything besides, "I love you, Big Blue." He hugged me, and we sat down in the chairs.

They both wanted to ask what was happening. I could see it in the way they smiled and looked at me, only for their eyes to flick away whenever I looked back. Streak sighed loudly as he looked around the walls, absent-mindedly eyeing the decorations. Braeburn kept staring at the ground, and he put his hoof on mine, squeezing every once in a while to let me know he was still there. Or maybe he needed to know I was still there.

And me? I felt numb, and I did everything I could to keep it that way. Thinking and feeling were only going to make things worse.

I was called back into Hope's study after about twenty minutes. Hope was behind his desk, but now he had an off-white folder sitting there instead of the reading cards. His smile was more strained now, but he still spoke calmly as I sat down. "My secretary tells me you brought another visitor in today, somepony besides Mr. Streak."

I nodded. "Yeah. My coltfriend, Braeburn." Even then, I still got a thrill saying it.

Hope smiled more genuinely. "We usually only allow family members into these consultation sessions, but I could certainly make an exception if you'd rather have him here. Would you like me to bring him in?"

I swallowed hard. If he was offering to bring somepony else it, it probably meant I'd want somepony beside me while I heard the results. I tried to take his words at face value. "Yes, please."

Braeburn was called in, and sweet Luna, he looked strong. He walked with that same wide strut he used when he was showing somepony around Appleloosa, and he tipped his hat politely to Hope as they greeted each other. Braeburn scooted a chair right next to mine, and then he sat down, resting his head on my shoulder. Hope's opinion of queer couples didn't matter to him – Braeburn wanted to touch me. I wrapped my wing around him, and that healing aura of his immediately slowed down my breathing.

Luckily, Hope was cool. "I can see you two care deeply for each other."

"More than anything," I said.

Braeburn chuckled. "Doc, you don't know the half of it."

"I'm very happy for you both," Hope said as he opened the folder. "I've only gotten to take a cursory look at these, and I'll spend more time with them today before I write my report, but I didn't want to keep you waiting." I appreciated that. His voice was steady, clinical even, and he adjusted his glasses again as he dove right in. "Soarin', you've sustained significant damage to the frontal lobe of your brain in what is commonly known as 'Bucka's Area,' or the language center of your brain."

Braeburn gasped, and we both tensed.

"The damage likely resulted from the crash in the apple orchard, and it may have been compounded in that train incident that you don't seem to remember, the one in which you woke up with that mysterious bruise."

Braeburn lifted his head from me and leaned forward. "Y-You can fix him, though, right, Doc?"

Hope scanned our faces, and he adjusted his voice to be less clinical and more fatherly. "At this point, Soarin's condition should be treatable, but it's going to be a long road, and we can't be sure he'll completely recover." He turned to me. "And you'll always be more susceptible to further concussions and traumatic brain injury. It will be of the utmost importance that you don't have another crash like the one in the orchard."

Braeburn interjected. He was sweating. "There's gotta be a spell or somethin', right? Maybe a unicorn?" He looked at me and stroked my foreleg. "We'll figure somethin' out, Big Blue."

I frowned at him, but I understood. Braeburn had been my big, strong stallion all day, but hearing the doctor confirm his worst fears made it all too real for him. The illusion was breaking down. There wasn't any denying it anymore – his coltfriend had been seriously injured and had nearly died. But seeing him start to panic stabbed at my heart, so I took a breath and set a hoof on his shoulder. "I'll do whatever the doctor asks, Applebutt. I promise." I brought his hoof to my lips and kissed it. 'My turn, Brae. Let me be the strong one for a while.'

Radiant Hope paused to make sure we were done. "Unfortunately, neuro-arcana is a largely unexplored field. You can understand why – the brain is a complicated organ, and performing magical treatment of this nature is incredibly dangerous and runs into several ethical dilemmas. It's outlawed in all but the most tightly regulated institutions, and even there, research hasn't gotten very far. There is some good work being done with potions to help stimulate cell growth, but it is by no means a cure." His head hung a little. "I'm very sorry this isn't happier news. As I said, we have many treatment options, but there's no hard-and-fast cure. There's too much about the brain that we don't know."

Braeburn snapped. "Well, what do you know? Can't your fancy machines tell us anythin' at all?" I rubbed his shoulder, but he didn't relax.

Hope remained unshaken. "Certainly. I'm happy to answer any questions you have, but please remember that I'll need more time to make my full diagnosis." He opened the folder and looked at the pages again, which included several images of my brain, and dude, it is freaky seeing how much your brain looks like a pile of meat, especially when some of the areas have been highlighted in red. He didn't offer to let me take a closer look. "At first glance, this looks like a case of Bucka's aphasia, but even that is a blanket term, as it manifests differently in everypony. Some lose the ability to speak coherently, some can speak well but don't understand spoken language, and some, like Soarin', have issues with writing and reading comprehension."

Before Braeburn could leap down his throat again, I asked, "So why do the words look wrong? I can, like, still read, but they're just…" My face scrunched up, and I made a circle in the air with a hoof. "…wrong."

"Like I said earlier, Soarin', your brain is a fighter. One moment, please." He reached into his desk drawer and took out a bunch of colored toothpicks. He spread them on the desk in front of him. "We're getting into theoretical territory here, but I've found this metaphor to be helpful. Imagine your brain is the Equestrian Mail System, and the words you read are pieces of mail." He joined the ends of several of the toothpicks, making a large network. "As you learn to read, your brain gets better at connecting the words to the abstract thoughts, like the mailponies learning to deliver the mail to the correct house. Your brain carefully constructs the most efficient paths possible. For example, all the words associated with the ocean cluster together, so that when you think of the ocean, the beach, and the fish, the mail doesn't have to travel very far."

I knew where he was going with it. During the interview, I told him I'd mixed up the words "water" and "whale" on Braeburn's recipe card.

Hope finished putting the toothpicks in place. They formed an intricate, almost beautiful web. "It's a very efficient system, and what makes the brain amazing is that it works so smoothly. It even improves itself over time. However, when it's exposed to trauma…" He flicked the center of the network with his hoof, and I groaned as the toothpicks clacked and scattered around his desk. "…it becomes difficult to know which mailpony used to be where. Most of the mailponies are still there, of course, but they've been jumbled. Your brain often has to take its best guess with new information, which is why you might have mixed up 'whale' and 'water' when you were cooking. Whales live in the water, which the non-language center of your brain still knows is true, so it tries to force those pieces together to repair the damage. It's the same with 'trowel' and 'tablespoon.' Both are scooping tools that start with a 't' and have roughly the same shape. Does that make sense?"

Braeburn was silent. I nodded. "Yeah. I… think I get it." My brain tingled again. I didn't know if it was repairing itself or making things worse. "So… what? Do I need to, like, break everything again until it all ends up in the right spot?"

Hope's eyebrows shot up. "Oh, goodness no! What you need is to slowly correct it. Retrain your brain and realign the synapses slowly. Of course, your therapist will go over the details with you and help customize your plan. On that note, I'd like to send you to Doctor Gentle Soul, our resident therapist. He has my highest recommendation – we combined our practices over fifteen years ago when I saw the high quality of work he does to rehabilitate his patients. He truly is an amazing pony."

Braeburn sat up and snorted. "I'm sure he's nice, but is he really as good as you say? I want Soarin' to get the best care he can. Is this Gentle Soul guy the best? Is he trustworthy?"

Hope smiled. "Absolutely."

Braeburn narrowed his eyes. "But you work with him, and we've only got your word to go off of."

"Well, more than my word," Hope chuckled, setting a hoof on his desk. "I did marry him, after all." He turned the picture on his desk around, and I saw a much younger Radiant Hope nuzzling a powder-blue pegasus with a minty green mane, both of them wearing tuxedos and smiling with such genuine warmth that I could feel it in my chest.

It shouldn't have mattered to me that Radiant Hope was queer, but it did. Braeburn and I had been going through so much, both in our relationship and with the outside world, and seeing that the pony we had to rely on was one of us, a guy who understood what it was like and who had been with his partner for over fifteen years, made a world of difference. I smiled to myself and thought, 'We're gonna make it.'

Braeburn's tone warmed up, too. "I… suppose that's about the best endorsement you could give. Heh heh. Hoo…" He blushed. "Sorry for makin' assumptions. Makes me wonder, though – ain't that a conflict of interest?"

I smirked. Braeburn had brought up a good point, but he was really just trying to change the subject.

Hope smiled. "As I said, we're technically part of the same company, so it's more of a service provided by our collective practice than an outside recommendation, but if it makes you uncomfortable, you are free to go anywhere you like. I assure you, though, that Gentle Soul is the best at what he does."

I snickered. "You mean bottoming? Sorry, Doc, but Braeburn's got him beat."

Hope blushed and smiled like a schoolcolt who'd just said the word "butt" for the first time. "There's that famous wit again. Ha-ha!" He shook his head and briefly hid behind a hoof. "No, no, although he's quite good at that, too. He's a wonderful husband all around, and he's an even better therapist." Hope's eyes unfocused, and he blushed again, smiling goofily. "I'll just say that he's a stallion of many talents and leave it at that."

I winked at Hope. "Just let him know he's got competition." We laughed together for a few moments, but after it died down, an uncomfortable silence hung in the air. "So… can I ask the big one, Doc?"

Hope nodded. "Of course."

The words caught on my lips, but I forced them out. "Is there… a chance, Doc? Will I get to fly again?"

He smiled. "Most definitely."

The pressure released from my chest right as Braeburn squeezed me tightly and kissed my face a dozen times. "Oh, thank Celestia!" he shouted as he latched onto me.

I blinked a few times, stunned. In one moment, everything had gone from grim and hopeless to manageable and bright. "I'm… going to be okay?" A small smile grew into a giant grin, and my brain locked out almost everything in disbelief. "I'm going to fly again!"

"Certainly," Hope said. Lowering his voice a notch, he added, "I'm sorry I didn't mention it sooner. I was distracted by a certain smart-mouthed Wonderbolt."

I let out a shuddering breath, and Braeburn stood up and shook the doctor's hoof. "Thank you, Doc. Sorry I doubted you. I can't tell you what a weight you've lifted off of us."

I tried to tell him how grateful I was, but I was still feeling the endorphins wash over me. My face buzzed, and I just let out a soothing, "Bleh…"

Hope chuckled and folded the results up again. "I appreciate it, but I'm just doing my job, and I'm glad I have at least some good news. Let's not get ahead of ourselves, though. I won't have a full diagnosis and recommendation until Tuesday, so until then, you are to stay away from practice. Get some rest, and take some time for yourselves. I imagine you could use it after these last few weeks."

Braeburn kissed me again. "Like you wouldn't believe."

The rest of the visit is mostly a blur. We said our goodbyes and met Streak in the waiting room, and he immediately relaxed when he saw that we weren't crying. The secretary set us up with a follow-up appointment Tuesday to go over the results, and Streak got a copy of the note telling me not to fly in the meantime. He folded it up and put it into his saddlebag. "Perfect. In that case, you're officially excused from practice until Wednesday. Spitfire and I will handle Bottom Line, so you two take it easy."

"Heh," I chuckled. "Thaaaaat's not gonna happen." I slapped Braeburn's ass with my wing, and after a quick yelp, he cuddled closer to me.

Pressed up against me, Braeburn said, "Thanks for everything, Fire Streak. We'd be lost without you."

Streak smiled. "Same here."

We flew back home in the cab, and Streak took off towards the Academy to help Spitfire review the Friday show and look for improvements. That show had seemed so long ago, but I danced in place when I realized I still had hundreds of shows ahead of me. Plus, upside of traumatic brain injury? Nopony calls you out on your mistakes.

…

Just kidding. Spitfire sent me a vicious critique the next day.

Braeburn and I walked into our home, each sighing heavily. The door shut, and I sat down in the hallway, my head spinning. 'Am I going to pass out?' I thought.

Braeburn spun around and hugged me again, reading my thoughts. "You're gonna be okay, Big Blue." After a small squeak, he shouted, "You're gonna be okay!"

I flattened my ear to my head and laughed. "Little loud, Applebutt."

He nuzzled me. "Ain't holdin' back my excitement, Blue. This is…" He sighed, "Oh, this is good news. We needed this."

I hugged him back. "We'll be okay."

Braeburn pulled back. "Absolutely. Now, I think a little celebration's in order. All this good news calls for a drink!" He smiled broadly.

My expression dropped.

…but it loosened up when he snickered at me. "Gotcha." He kissed me nose and sat down in front of me, his hoof on mine and looking at me with those big, beautiful eyes. "Ya' gotta give me at least a little credit."

I cleared my throat. "I'll, uh… I'll try."

His eyes sparkled like they hadn't in weeks. He looked down at our hooves, then back up, a slight blush in his cheeks. His voice was softer as he lightly stroked my face. "I meant what I said, Soarin'. You're a hell of a catch, and you bring out the best in me."

My chest inflated, and I felt dizzy, but in the love way, not the "career-ending concussion" way. "You do, too, Braeburn."

"Naw," he said, rubbing his head under my chin. "I ain't seen the best yet. You just keep gettin' better." He pulled back and looked at me again, his voice even quieter. "And I'm stayin' with you, Soarin'. Hell or high water. Nothin's gonna tear me away from you, no matter how hard it pulls."

As much relief as I felt, there was the little nagging part of me that worried. "Promise?"

He nodded. "Promise."

I smiled. 'He still means it.'

Braeburn laughed and nuzzled me again. "Now, I think somepony's long overdue for his pie. Shame that we missed yesterday. Broke our streak."

I nuzzled him back. "Meh, we can start a new one. Just don't be too rough with me." I nibbled on his ear and felt him shudder.

"Heh heh." He licked my face, and his voice became sultry. "I promise I'll be gentle. Now go get ready, ya' sexy bastard. I'll get the blindfold."

Chapter 39 - Calm

Five times.

Damn, we were sore afterwards, but we'd needed it. We spent at least twenty minutes just pounding water and catching our breath. Streak had been right: when death is staring you right in the face, you need to feel alive. You need to have somepony there that you know will catch you when you fall, somepony that's going to take care of you.

And afterwards, Braeburn and I went through the entire roller coaster together. Relief washed over us. We laughed so hard that our stomachs hurt and we couldn't breathe. We took turns crying and telling each other how scared we were and how we didn't know what we would have done. We had moments where we couldn't feel anything at all, where our nerves were completely shot and our brains were too overloaded to process the world around us. And finally, we quietly held each other and counted each other's breaths. He breathes slower than I do, and it relaxed me like a warm blanket on a cold night.

That's not to say that Sunday was just hugs and kisses, though. As we showered together, I looked at Braeburn through wet, matted hair and smiled. "I'm taking you out tonight."

Braeburn dried my wings and worked some of the water out of my mane. "Heh. Not sure I'll be able to walk much, Big Blue. Besides, won't those media ponies see us?"

I took the towel and gently dried his face. "Eh, let 'em. You can be lazy all week if you want to, Applebutt, but tonight, we're celebrating."

The towel covered his eyes, and I could see his ears flick beneath it. He laughed. "Ha! Don't know how much more celebratin' I can handle. You really wanna have two parties in one weekend?"

I took the towel from his eyes and nuzzled his face. "No party. Just us."

He sighed a calm, pleasant sigh. "How about a late lunch, then? The paparazzi won't be swarmin' this early in the afternoon, right? I figure all the stars are sleepin' off the hangover or gettin' ready for dinner, so maybe it'll finally be a little quieter."

I grinned. "Fast learner."

"Aw, I'm just tryin' to keep up with 'em." He blushed and looked down. "Hate to give 'em too much material to spin stories with. Celestia knows it doesn't take much."

"Look at you, learning how to be a celebrity." I playfully pawed at his chest. "You'll have those assholes wrapped around your hoof in no time."

"Hell, I hope not. I've already had more than my fill of practice. Besides…" He grabbed my hoof, brought it to his lips, and kissed it. "They just get in the way of what's important."

We finished drying off and found some decent clothing in our bedroom. Nothing too fancy – just button-up shirts to look a little less casual. I went with a deep blue that complimented by mane. Braeburn wore a white shirt, but he insisted on wearing his apple-clasped bolo tie. I made him wear it loose with the top buttons open so I could stare at his chest, and I told him to leave his hat at home so I could see the sun reflect off that gorgeous mane of his.

He looked into the closet-mirror and grimaced. "Aw… I feel like that guy on the cover of those romance novels. Ya' know, Clopio."

I snickered. "Nah, you're way hotter." With a quick kiss, I added, "Lemme guess: you just read those books for the plot."

"Heh heh. Naw. I just… Hm…" He paused and eyed me, a devious smile running across his face. I could feel the electricity run up my spine, and I braced myself. "Hya!" He leapt up into the air at me.

Without thinking, I flapped my wing and caught him a second later, suspending us in midair. Chuckling, I said, "Damn, Brae! What was that?"

"Blame those novels." He wrapped his forelegs around my neck and hugged me tightly. "I always dreamed of bein' swept off my hooves by a stud like you."

We spent the next few minutes melting all over each other. He rested his head against me and closed his eyes while I flapped my wings and carried him around the condo, nowhere in particular, just enjoying holding him as gently as I could. He was warm. He felt like he weighed nothing at all. He was still breathing slowly, and after every breath, I lost myself a little more in his softness and his smell.

A few minutes later, I set him back down in the bedroom, and we hugged for a long, long time.

After we'd finished, we trotted downstairs and out the door. There aren't any good places to eat on the Estates grounds. Some zoning law or something, I dunno. Didn't matter, though. I just took him to the panini place just a few blocks outside the borders. Same place I brought you this morning, actually.

As soon as we were out of the security guards' jurisdiction, though, we got tailed by a yellow pegasus mare who was very liberal with her camera, but at least she kept her distance. A constant click-click noise settled into the background of our conversation.

Part of me wanted to tell her to buzz off, but I looked at Braeburn and thought, 'Nah, let's see how much he's learned.' I nudged him. "Know what she's doing?"

He rolled his eyes. "Besides bein' a pest?"

I shrugged. "Yeah, but I mean, like, her strategy."

"Huh…" Braeburn thought for a while, glancing back at her a couple times. "Well, she's keepin' her distance, so she probably doesn't wanna cause a scene, because…" His eyes widened, and he flipped his mane out of his face. "Oh! She wants to see where we're goin'. Hopin' we head into someplace we don't wanna be seen."

"Yeah!" I nodded. "And what else?"

"And…" He looked around and bit his lip. "Huh. Ya' know, Sheriff Silverstar used to do this, too. He'd be someplace visible, so we'd know we were safe, but any no-goods would get nervous. He said that's how he'd know who was gonna make trouble. They'd be the ones that'd flinch."

I smiled. "Right. So…"

Braeburn smiled as the thoughts clicked into place. "She wants us to act suspicious, because then she can catch us. Or… at least then she can speculate and write somethin' scandalous. Ha! Got it! We just need to act natural, then," he said with a new bounce in his step. "Hell, we ain't hidin' nothin', so she'll have nothin' saucy to write about. Easy as pie."

Hopping into the air, I floated next to him and planted a kiss on his cheek, not caring that she got a cute picture. "Clever pony."

Braeburn sighed. "Still, she's buttin' into our private lives. Took a picture of that sneaky little kiss, I bet. Almost wish we could lose her." I was about to say something, but he added, "But… that'd only end up in a chase. Better to be the mushy fluff piece in the back of whatever rag she's peddlin', right?"

I landed on the cloud and said, "Right," before I looked back over my shoulder. She gave me a polite little wave, and I waved back. We all knew the game.

"Heh heh."

I turned to Braeburn. "What?"

"You've barely swore at all." He leaned in a narrowed his eyes. "You think she's cute, don'tcha?"

I scrunched up my face and glanced away. "Maaaaaybe."

"Heh heh. Careful, Slick." Braeburn nudged my flank with his. "You're lucky I'm not the jealous type, or you'd get another bump on the head!" The color drained from his face. "Uh…" He frowned and hung his head, and his voice trailed off. "S-sorry. Too soon."

I could feel his body tense, so I pressed myself into him as we walked. "You're fine, Applebutt. I'll be okay, I promise."

"You'd better," he said, cuddling back. "I don't know what I'd do if you hurt yourself again."

"Don't worry, babe. I promise you'll never have to find out."

I'm such a dumbass sometimes.

We got to the cafe, ordered a couple paninis, and sat down among the comforting smells of warm herbs and warmer coffee. The deep red paint job and wooden motif gave the whole place a rustic feel, and besides us and the reporter, there were only two customers and a barista there. We sat down near a window. The mare followed us inside about a minute later and sat at the opposite side of the restaurant, where she could get the best lighting and frame us together. She was probably hoping we'd split a milkshake with two straws and gaze longingly into each other's eyes or something. And… actually…

…dammit. I totally should have let her take a picture like that. I would have looked great.

Our food and drinks came, but Braeburn's eyes kept flickering to reporter. "Celestia, they are persistent, aren't they?" He stretched his neck and managed to smile. "I think this time'll be different, though."

"Why's that?" I asked, very purposefully not sharing my milkshake.

"I can deal with just one of 'em." He smiled. "Though I guess we can't really talk about you-know-what, can we?"

I sucked the rest of my milkshake down and twitched at the subsequent brain freeze.

Braeburn laughed. "You're gonna spoil your lunch that way."

I shook out my mane and smacked my lips. "Duh, this is my lunch. You sure you don't want dessert first?"

He shook his head. "I'm good."

"Meh, have it your way." I pushed the empty glass away. "But yeah, should probably better save the boo-boo talk for home."

Braeburn's head bowed a little. "Sorry to bring it up. Hope it didn't ruin your little date idea, Soarin'."

I threw my head back. "Ha! So we don't get to spend the whole afternoon obsessing over my medical history?" I reached across the table and patted his hoof, smirking and raising an eyebrow. "Oh yeah. I'm pissed."

Say what you will about me. I know how to put a smile on a somepony's face.

We took our time, and even though Braeburn was pretty nonchalant about the paparazzo, I had to stop him from inviting her over to give her "a stern talking-to about her career choices." We played it cool, though, and after we left and trotted back to the Estates, the reporter left us alone. She'd gotten what she'd needed (if not what she'd wanted), and Braeburn had gotten to practice the game, too. He'd been right on the nose: a picture of us eating showed up near the back of Cosmare in a small blurb about "Stars in their Daily Lives." Just one paragraph, too, which is a win in my book.

We took it pretty easy on Sunday night, and on Monday, we were both surprised that Eagle Eye, the guard that had escorted us before, showed up at seven in the morning. I mean, I'm told he showed up at seven. He and Braeburn were chatting over coffee when I woke up and came downstairs. Braeburn had finally convinced him to come in and join us for a real breakfast. He'd made quiche with a flaky crust, and it was still hot when I got my slice. Braeburn said it was as close to pie as he was willing to serve that early in the morning.

Eagle Eye swallowed the last of his coffee, stood up, and saluted me. "Good morning, sir. I've been sent over as an escort. Spitfire wants me to keep you two safe today, so if there's anything you'd like to do, just ask."

I smirked. "So, you down for a threeso–"

"No, sir. And Spitfire said to tell you she'd tan your hide if you made that joke."

"…Dammit." I froze, but a moment later, I rubbed the last of the sleepiness out of my eyes. "Wait, tan my hide? That doesn't sound like her."

Eagle Eye shifted. "I'd… rather not repeat what she actually said, sir." He grimaced and crossed his hind legs. "It got a little graphic."

We weren't in any rush, but the condo felt unsettled with Eagle Eye waiting around for us, so we brushed our teeth and left home pretty quickly.

Eagle Eye helped us get around town and kept the crowds away, doing everything from scouting ahead to talking to managers to politely and not-so-politely asking fans to stay back. Good thing, too, since a photographer for the Equinerer had been taking pictures at the Academy, noticed me missing again, and dashed over to the border of the Estates. Eagle Eye had caught her and snuck us out without too much trouble.

We spent most of the day just running errands, and I felt a little thrill go up my spine when Braeburn rattled off a list of things the house needed. It made me seem like an irresponsible tenant in front of Eagle Eye, but it also meant Braeburn was investing himself more in our home. As we moved from the hardware store to the furniture store to the office supply store, that feeling only grew. My wingtips tingled.

But more than anything else, Braeburn loved grocery shopping. His eyes lit up when we made it inside the grocery store, and he practically galloped to the produce section. Braeburn moved with an energy I hadn't seen since Las Pegasus, and Eagle Eye and I were left in the dust. Don't get me wrong: Braeburn wasn't careless with the food. He turned every potential vegetable and piece of fruit over in his hooves, examining it, squeezing delicately, sniffing it for freshness. "You gotta smell near the stem to see if it's ripe," he said, holding a melon up to my face. It was true – I could smell it, but by the time I could say anything, he'd already stuffed it into his bag and moved on to the tomatoes.

I chuckled. "Need any help, Brae?" He either didn't hear me or ignored me. "Uh… Braeburn?"

"Hm?" He perked up and turned around. "Oh, sorry. Missed that. Got kinda caught up in all this." He made a sweeping motion over the produce section, and he stood up a little taller when he realized Eagle Eye was keeping everypony else away so he could have it all to himself. "Feels good to be back in my element again. I like the kitchen, but there's somethin' to be said for a good harvest." His voice mellowed, and his smile waned a hair. "And this is about as close as I'll get for a while, sadly."

I felt a pang in my chest and said. "You, uh, need any help?"

"Heh. No thanks. I'm pretty particular about what I'll cook with." He turned to a crate full of apples and picked one out, polishing it on his chest fur. "Course, these ain't quite as good as back home, but they'll do." He kissed the apple in his hooves. "Won't ya', little buddy?"

Something at the back of my mind felt uneasy, but I told myself, 'He'll be okay. This can be his new orchard.' I sat and watched. Braeburn had his fun, and convincing him he had enough was like pulling a colt away from the slides on a playground.

We made it home by the early evening, and Eagle Eye stayed for dinner. Braeburn made us a tofu dish with a tomato and mozzarella salad while Eagle Eye and I had a good, strong drink.

Yeah, I know what you're thinking, but Braeburn insisted. We'd agreed to get rid of all the booze in the condo, but he wasn't letting me waste that much money by just throwing it out, which I told him I'd do in a heartbeat. He said it would be an insult to the craft and to the ponies that couldn't afford luxuries like good liquor. I told him I could afford it, but he said that he had been raised to waste not and want not and that he was just concerned about my "flippancy with fine alcohols," and naively, I believed him.

We ate. The food was delicious, and… yeah. Pretty chill night. Eagle Eye told us he'd be back at eight in the morning to take me to my follow-up with Doctor Hope, and just before he left, he saluted from the entryway. "And don't worry, sir. Spitfire won't hear that you propositioned a subordinate."

I winced. "Uh… thanks."

"You're welcome, sir." He nodded at Braeburn. "I owe you for the hospitality."

"Aw, you don't owe us nothin'," Braeburn said, slinging a dish towel over his shoulder. "It's been a pleasure talkin' to you, and we appreciate all your work keepin' the media off our asses."

Eagle Eye stood tall, chest out. "Just doing my job, sir. I'll see you tomorrow." He saluted one more time and left.

We cleaned up, I got my pie for the night, and we went to bed. Like I said, it was a chill day. We hadn't had to feel anything too intense that day, which was an unbelievably welcome break.

Just like he'd promised, Eagle Eye was back the next morning, over half an hour early. Braeburn made sure I was up by the time he arrived, saying, "It ain't right to be sleepin' when we have a guest." Braeburn brought Eagle Eye in, and with some prodding, Eagle Eye admitted he'd hoped to be invited for breakfast again.

We ate Braeburn's pancakes – better than Big Mac's, though admittedly not by much – and Eagle Eye laughed. "Mister Apple, if Equestria ever goes to war, I hope you'll serve your nation by cooking for us at the front lines."

"You foaling?" I asked, wrapping one foreleg around Braeburn and shoving another delicious, fluffy bite into my face. "He'll be at the peacekeeping table. One bite of this stuff, and we'll have a truce in no time."

Braeburn blushed and quietly ate his pancakes. I think those were some of his favorite moments, the times where he felt like he was useful and wanted and needed. If I'd been a better coltfriend, I'd have realized how much he'd missed that feeling and how much he needed to go back to Appleloosa.

We finished breakfast and got ready to go. Eagle Eye had ordered a sky cab to be doubly sure of our privacy, and a short ride later, we were all back there: Hope's office.

The building didn't look so scary this time. The double doors weren't nearly as unnerving, the ticking clock didn't drive me crazy, and the time passed quickly. Braeburn did still cuddle me, though.

We got called back after just a few minutes, and Eagle Eye waited in the lobby, where a young filly had been pestering him about the military. He was patient, though, and answered all her questions, at least until she asked why stallions and mares wore different armor around their backsides. "Ask your mother," he said, looking into the distance.

Braeburn and I walked tall that day, heads high as we marched into Hope's office. The books didn't scare me, but just to be safe, I didn't try to read their spines. Hope sat in his big chair, smiling. "Welcome back, gentlecolts. Very happy to see you again." He got up, shook hooves with us, and then gestured to two chairs in front of his desk. "Please, have a seat. This shouldn't take long."

We sat, and I asked, "Why? You already cured me or what?"

Hope laughed from deep in his chest. "Ha-ha. I'm sorry, but no. It's only that, generally, ponies don't like staying here longer than they have to. I certainly can't blame them." He sat down, too, and pulled a file out of his desk. "I'm going to go over my full diagnosis, and then I'll give you some basic prep work to do for your first session with Doctor Soul. I've already heard from Fire Streak that your appointment is for Monday morning. Is that alright?"

I nodded at Braeburn. "Sounds good to me."

"Excellent." He set a hoof on the file. "Now, if it's alright with you, I'd like to show you an image of your brain." His voice lowered a few pitches. "I'll warn you that it can be quite shocking."

Braeburn shifted. "I think we're ready."

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Lay it on me, Doc."

He turned the file around, and I saw the picture. It was black transparent paper with a big, white, spongy looking thing in the middle. And on the left side, highlighted in red, was a small section of my brain that looked slightly shriveled compared to the rest. My stomach leapt to my throat, and I couldn't stop staring. My voice cracked as I said, "That all? Seems pretty minor. I-I'll be healed in a week."

Hope smiled. "You're taking this very well, though I do implore you to take your recovery seriously. As I mentioned on Sunday, you have damage to Bucka's area." He pointed to the damaged portion of my brain and went into a bunch of technical details that I don't really remember, and for the next twenty minutes, he answered all the questions Braeburn and I had the best he could. He couldn't tell us everything we wanted, though, like how long it would be before I made a full recovery.

But I do remember one thing. After we'd run out of questions, he passed me a copy of the file and looked me straight in the eye. "And Soarin', I need you to listen carefully." His voice was still even and professional, but it took on a darker tone, and for the first time, I saw his eyebrows knit. He made sure I was paying attention before he continued. "For the rest of your life, you'll be more vulnerable to further concussions, but especially in the next several months, you need to monitor yourself carefully. I need to be crystal clear: if you ever feel like you're not flying at one-hundred percent…" He knocked his hoof on the desk for added emphasis. "…then you don't fly. Even a minor headache could be a sign that something is wrong. The Wonderbolts understand how important this is for your safety. They won't hold it against you, and I need you to promise me you'll take this warning seriously. Do you understand?"

* * * * *

Soarin' pauses. The wind has taken on a slight chill, but that might just be the dread working its way into my chest. My skin tingles, and I hold my breath.

Soarin' narrows his eyes and looks at me. His voice is utterly flat. "You can see where this is going."

All too well. I look back at his atrophied legs and gulp. "The Wonderbolts show in Fillydelphia."

Slowly, he closes his eyes and nods. "Bingo."

* * * * *

I nodded. "Promise, Doc." Even then, I knew I didn't intend to keep it.

Braeburn figured me out, though. "Be serious, Soarin'. I want you to promise me, too. I don't wanna lose you." His voice cracked slightly, and his eyes glistened.

And I gave in. "Okay…" I said quietly. "I promise you, too. I won't fly unless I'm one-hundred percent."

He snuggled me. "Thanks, Big Blue."

Radiant Hope spoke up. "In the meantime, I'm writing you a prescription for an alchemical agent. You can pick it up at the apothecary down the road. It won't heal you, per se, but it should at least keep things from getting much worse."

We thanked Hope again, and then we left (though I did get in one more crack about Braeburn being a better bottom than his husband).

Eagle Eye took us to the apothecary, we filled the prescription, and we went home. The rest of the day was pretty boring. We put on some music and played an old board game I had tucked away in my closet, but it was painfully clear how little I had for entertainment around the house. When you're barely ever home, who needs that stuff, right? I always had plenty to keep me occupied.

And Braeburn made damn sure I took my medicine exactly when it was prescribed. It tasted awful, like rotten pear mixed with dirt, and I had to take two spoons of it every day. Oh, and it made my brain itch. Just… weird.

Eagle Eye stayed for a walk around the Estates and a late dinner, and then he left to hoof-deliver a copy of Hope's report to the 'Bolts. At the kitchen table, Braeburn read the rest of the report to me for a few minutes until I got too uncomfortable, which led to him holding me, which led to some long, slow sex on the couch. We cleaned up and sat back down at the kitchen table, and I saw Braeburn eyeing one of the cabinets. You can guess which one. He fidgeted more and more the longer the silence went on.

Gently, I asked, "What's up, Applebutt?"

Braeburn sighed, then looked up at me. After a pause, he said, "I wanna pour you somethin'. That alright?"

'…Huh?' I involuntarily shook my head around and then raised an eyebrow. "Uh… Applebutt? That's probably a bad idea. You're just going to want one, too."

He lowered his head. "That's kinda the point, Big Blue. I need to practice sayin' 'no' before I go to another party or somethin'. I… I need your help." He looked at me, searching my eyes. "And I know you won't let me down. So can we practice? Please?"

My chest felt tight, and sirens went off in my brain that he had an angle, like he would eventually try to play me for a drink himself.

But the more I looked into his eyes, the more I believed him. My suspicions drained out of me like dirty bathwater, and I felt unclean for not trusting him. I sighed and said, "Sure. Anything for you, babe."

He smiled warmly. "Thanks, Big Blue."

Braeburn made me a rum and cola in no time flat, then set it down in front of me. I paused, then raised the glass to him and said, "Ya' know, if you're into torturing yourself, I know a shop we can visit."

He chuckled, "Well, I hope it won't torture for long. That's kinda the point of this whole exercise." He looked around the room. "But, uh, let's talk about somethin' else."

"Like what?" I lifted the drink, but I stopped just as the glass touched my lips. Braeburn was staring at the glass, and his wide-eyed, hungry expression gave everything away. It was like watching a lion stalk a gazelle – he was single-minded, and he knew what he wanted. I could see the doubts behind his eyes. He was wondering if one drink would hurt.

He wasn't alone, though. 'I won't let you down, Braeburn.'

Neither of us moved until I opened my mouth wide and wrapped it around the whole rim of the glass, distending my jaw a little. He stifled a laugh and tried to keep a straight face, but I sucked on the glass like a bottle, flicking my tongue in the drink like a dog, and Braeburn lost it. I laughed, too, and after we settled down, the quiet that followed didn't bother me.

Dreamily, Braeburn said, "Tell me a story."

"What kind?" I asked without breaking eye contact.

He shrugged. "Somethin' about you. Somethin' happy. A nice memory. Like that."

"Okay. Uh…" I lifted my chin and thought. "Okay." I leaned in. "Did I ever tell you I had a pet frog? Sort of?"

Braeburn chuckled and leaned in, too, one hoof on the table. "Naw. How'd you manage that?"

"Okay, so…" I took my first drink. It was mixed well, and the sweetness of the cola played nicely off the rum. It burned a little as it went down, but I refocused and said, "I used to sneak down to the ground after school to play with him. Sometimes it took a while to find him, but Froggy really liked hanging out in this hollow log by a lake that was pretty close to Cloudsdale. I'd bring him random junk food and try to feed it to him. He wouldn't always eat it, but he was pretty chill. He'd let me pick him up, too, but he hated it when I flew with him. He didn't do much, but when he wanted to, he could jump really high."

Braeburn smiled. "That's cute. So what happened?"

I took another big drink. "I mean, nothing. Not really. You said happy, right? I got bored after a couple weeks and stopped going. He probably didn't even know who I was. I just liked him." I shrugged. "I mean, I didn't have to deal with him dying or anything. Or, like, leaving. We just kinda parted ways."

"Heh. Most pet stories end up sad."

"Well, not this one." I drank the last few gulps and set the glass down. "Your turn. Lay it on me. What's the happiest thing you got? I'm talking like… colt in a candy factory on free puppy day for his birthday party, but like, happier than that. "

His eyes unfocused, and he wore a dopey smile. "Meeting you."

"Ha! You mean when I got a concussion or when you spat in my face outside your house?" I whapped him playfully with my wing. "How about something I wasn't there for."

Braeburn nodded. "First dance in Appleloosa, then, for sure. It was after we'd gotten the water tower set up, along with as many houses as we'd had wood for. We were beat, but we'd all committed to bringing a dish for a city-wide potluck, and you never renege on your commitments to a potluck. I thought everypony would fall asleep before dessert, but then Pridesong pulled out his guitar and just started playin' whatever came to mind. Maribelle joined in singin', and soon, all twenty or so of us were dancin' with an energy we didn't know we had. It felt right, and it helped us realize that, hey, we could make this crazy idea work. Buildin' the town wasn't all toil and hardship. It could be fun, too, and we could be a part of somethin' bigger. We'd needed that. I liked that feeling so much, I asked Pridesong a few days later if he'd do it again, and we've been havin' dances every weekend ever since."

I beamed. "So that's how you became mayor. "

"Heh. Kinda, I suppose. I organized a big meal the next week, and I helped anypony that needed it to get set up. From there, ponies just kept asking for my advice, and when I wasn't tendin' the apple orchard, I was more than happy to help a neighbor out. Then we started havin' to fill out financial paperwork to send to Canterlot, and Silverstar figured I'd be good at it, since I'm always mindin' the books for the orchard, and nopony had any objections, so it just kinda happened. Been that way for a couple years now."

I smiled. "So that dance was your first big event."

"You could say that." He sighed. "I do miss it. Don't think I've ever missed this many in a row before."

I brushed my wing against his side. "Hey, you said this was a happy story."

"Yeah, I know…" He looked up at me, smiled, and patted my hoof. "It'll be okay. I got what I need right here. Maybe we could swing by the next time y'all tour?"

I sneered just slightly. "We're… not touring out west for a while."

"Yeah, I figured." He shrugged. "I'll manage," he said quietly as he stood up and walked over to me. "Long as I got you safe and sound, I'll manage." Braeburn leaned in and kissed me long and deep and warm, a hoof wrapped around my neck. His breath was hot in my mouth, and his tongue explored all over my teeth and the insides of my cheeks. My eyes fluttered, and we moaned together. Feeling him so intimately was heaven.

He pulled away, gave me dreamy eyes one more time, and said, "Better not stay up too late tonight, ya' sexy Wonderbolt. Captain's gotta attend to his duties in the morning."

I nuzzled him. "Yeah, I know. You ready for bed, too?"

He nodded. "I'll see you up there."

Braeburn pulled away, and I watched him walk slowly out of the kitchen. I focused on the wiggling of his ass and how deeply he'd kissed me. I ran my tongue around my mouth, trying to remember the way it tasted.

And my heart sank, because my mouth tasted like rum, and because Braeburn smacked his lips once as he went upstairs.

I was pretty quiet that night, but if Braeburn noticed, he didn't say anything. I wanted to ask him if he'd intentionally tried to get just a taste off of me, but I didn't want to admit that I might have failed him. 'He wouldn't do that,' I told myself. 'He just wanted to kiss me. It was just a coincidence. He'll be okay. He's happy here, and like he said, I'm all he needs.'

I cuddled him extra close that night, and despite my worries, I slept well, spooning the stallion of my dreams.

In the morning, Braeburn made breakfast, and I put on my uniform. Eagle Eye showed up to escort me, like it was our regular routine, and I kissed Braeburn goodbye. "See you tonight, Applebutt. Don't jerk off too much."

"And ruin your pie? Perish the thought!" He nuzzled me. "Love you, Big Blue."

"Love you, too." The previous night already seemed like ancient history, and as I got my salute from Eagle Eye, I walked outside, looked out at the sun, and took off, ready to face the day.

The flight over to the Academy was easy. A couple reporters tried to head us off, but I gained a new respect for Eagle Eye's speed as we zoomed onto the grounds before any of them got close. After we checked in with security, Eagle Eye left to report in. I headed over to the Green Room, where I found Spitfire in the hallway.

She smiled at me. "I knew a bump on the head wouldn't keep you out long."

I flared out my wings and held my head high as I gave my Big Mac-iest, "Nnnnnope!" I saluted her. "So, what am I doing this week?"

"Besides dodging reporters, you're on transitions. Streak and I have the program worked out, but you can add some flair if you're up for it. I get final approval, though. Are we clear?"

Transitions are great once in a while. It's usually for secondary teams, but sometimes Reserves can sneak in, which is an easy way for them to make main squad. You basically just do short stunts while the techs reset or the other 'Bolts get water. The tricks all look impressive, but they're pretty easy. They're mostly crowd-pleasers – stuff like the Icaranian Sun Salutation – that appeal to ponies with poor taste.

The best part, though, was that Spitfire was giving me some control, and any discomfort I felt melted away. "Crystal clear. Thanks, Spitfire."

"No problem." Coolly, she added, "Heads-up: avoid Bottom Line. He about pulled his mane out when I told him what happened to you, and he doesn't even want to see you now."

"Meeeeeee?" I said, dramatically turning up my nose and holding a hoof to my chest. "Avoid Bottom Line? How will I eeeeever manage?"

We talked a little longer about the training regimen for the week, and then we split. After that, I stopped at my office to fill out some paperwork. It was a mix of medical leave documentation and forms that explained my absences and upcoming therapy.

…which turns out to be a lot harder when you can't read. Who knew, right?

But I didn't let it get to me. Sure, my pulse jumped up when I had to start the first couple sentences over for the fifth time. And sure, I started tapping my hoof and biting my pencil so hard it snapped in half. And suuuure, I kept fantasizing about taking that stupid paperwork, ripping it to pieces, feeding it to a hydra, and then bucking that hydra into the sun while swearing so loud they'd kick me out of the 'Bolts, but I didn't let it get to me.

Luckily, Streak swung by about twenty minutes later, and he found me sitting in my chair being perfectly calm. "You, uh… doing okay, bro?"

I sighed. Or growled. But probably sighed. "Ugh, no. Bunch of medical forms and releases, and I need to–"

"You do know we have secretaries, right?"

I cocked an eyebrow. "Since when?"

"Well, we don't, but just grab somepony from Hurricane Hall. They're always looking for something to do. Full-timer, though. Wouldn't want a random intern or something spilling your medical history to the press."

Calmly, I peacefully decided to serenely take his advice, because I'm tranquil like that.

Streak was right. Things had slowed down since the scandal had broken, so a mare named Parchment was able to help me out. She was an off-white pegasus with a blue mane and tail, and she didn't talk much. I think the only thing she said was, "What would you like me to put here?" for a hoof-ful of questions. Honestly, I don't think it took any longer to have her fill out the forms that I would have done on my own, even if I was reading at full capacity. She was lightning-quick at writing things down, and she didn't ask more than was necessary.

After that, I flew out to practice. We were on the plateau, like usual, with most of the main squad practicing aerial stunts in the cloud courses above and the secondary teams practicing take-offs on the paved runway. They worked like well-oiled machines, and by that point, both Spitfire and Fire Streak were out monitoring them. Some of the trainers had set up a massage therapy tent, which Wave Chill was taking full advantage of, and the early summer sun kept everything warm without being hot. Landing near the center, I thought to myself, 'This is how it should be.'

Fleetfoot spiraled down and landed in front of me after her turn on the course. Through that lisp of hers, she saluted and said, "Good thing we've got a third captain now, Soarin'. I'd hate to make Spitfire's job any harder." She snickered. "Of course, I guess it's actually a lot easier with you out of her mane."

I thought back to how much that would have stung just a month and a half prior, how I hadn't been able to even take a compliment from Fleetfoot and had snapped at her in front of everypony. Her words didn't hurt anymore. This was her way of welcoming me back, and I silently thanked Luna for the effect Braeburn had had on me.

Buuuut that didn't mean she was getting away with hit. "It'll be even easier once you work your left bank turns. Now, give me twenty laps in the zig-zag rings!"

Fleetfoot smirked. "Too bad you're not running the–"

Spitfire's raspy voice boomed from across the plateau. "Your captain gave you an order, Wonderbolt!"

Fleetfoot snapped to attention. "I mean, SIR, YES SIR!" She crouched down, launched, and was halfway through her first lap by the time I stopped snickering.

Spitfire flew over next to me, and I gloated, "Still got it."

"Yes, I do," she replied airily. "And since you're so good at identifying good turns, why don't you show her how it's done, Soarin'?"

I saluted. "Yes, ma'am!" Nothing was going to keep me down, and I got right back into the routine, just like slipping on a skin-tight suit.

Practice was practice, just like I wanted. I ran drills, talked to my team about the transitions, and we modified what Spitfire had put together to feature Stormfeather a little more, since he'd been on the cusp of making main squad for so long. We went hard, and I was just as attentive to the team's performance as Spitfire. I would alternate between practicing with the team and standing on the sidelines while they ran the same stunts over and over again. I shouted stuff like "Pull back – you're two beats ahead!" and "Tighter turns out of the spiral!"

Of course, I needed the practice, too. Streak came by and judged me as harshly as he did the rest of the team, and Spitfire swung by for more commentary while the main squad was on break. It didn't shake me, though. Up there, flying with my team, I wasn't a head trauma victim. I was the captain of the Wonderbolts, and even as I pushed myself as hard as I could, I felt free. Nothing could touch me. Not the concussion, not anxiety about Appleloosa, nothing. Flying was finally back to the way it was supposed to be. It was my release. I knew then that I would stay on the team forever, and… and I'm not afraid to admit that I choked up a little on one of the breaks. And even when my teammates saw, they didn't laugh. They understood, and I understood. I was back, and everything was going to be okay.

My wings were obviously sore by the end of the day, but I finished strong, and after screwing around with the guys in the locker room for a while, I put on my captain's uniform – the one with the pockets – and flew over to Celestial Hall. It's the only on-campus building that sells tickets for the shows. It's a small cloud building that isn't much more than a box office with a window and some storage in back, but if you're a Wonderbolt that wants to get someone admission, it's where you go. There was something special I needed, and I knew they'd get it for me if I asked nicely.

…aaaaand if I gave them an absolute assload of money.

I put in the order, and the stallion at the counter said it would be about a week before they arrived. It was okay, though, since they gave me a temporary replacement that was just as good, at least for that Friday's show. I slipped it into my pocket, lanyard and all, and took off for home, and as exhausted as I was, I still outpaced the reporters on the way back.

I walked into the kitchen, and the condo smelled wonderful. Cilantro, fresh tomatoes, mouth-watering sautéed onions, freshly-fried tortillas… I rushed into the kitchen and stuck my nose into Braeburn's mane, taking a deep whiff. The scent was just what I wanted: apples, earth pony, and me. "This smells amazing, babe."

Braeburn giggled and shoved me away. "Aw, ya' goof. I ain't takin' the blame if you find a hair in your food. Now wash up. It's almost ready."

"In a sec." I kissed him sweetly. "Tell me about your day."

He stirred some beans with a wooden spoon. "Honestly, it was a little borin', but I managed. You're certainly lookin' fancy, though. Did you have an interview today?"

"Nah. I just… needed the pocket."

Braeburn covered the beans and wiped his hooves off on a towel by the stove. "Why's that?"

I smiled, reached into my pocket, and pulled out a laminated backstage pass. It was complete with a Wonderbolts-themed lanyard, which I slung around his neck. "Ta-da!"

"Aw, thanks, Blue!" He sat down and turned it over in his hooves. "Wow, got my name and everything! Laminated, too. Fancy!" He chuckled and looked back up at me. "Now all I need is a pair of wings to actually get to the show, and I'll be set."

I wrapped a wing around him and brought him in for a hug. "I'll be your wings, Applebutt."

He tensed, but then he pressed his face into my chest. "My only wings, Big Blue."

That night was wonderful. We did everything together, and after spending the day away from Braeburn, talking to him felt like our first date all over again. It felt like coming home from school and talking to Dad – everything was new and exciting, no matter how boring it should have been. The time apart, even as short as it had been, made me realize again how happy I was that we were together. Braeburn kept asking questions and being excited for me, and he offered a sympathetic ear when I told him about the paperwork. He didn't have anything to report from the day, but he was happy to listen, and we slipped into our comfortable evening routine for the rest of the night.

Thursday flew by. I got to practice early, worked hard, and didn't worry about anything all day. It was fulfilling. It was what I wanted and what I needed: a normal day, full of the pressure to perform at my best and the knowledge that I had my team behind me. And after that, I came home for dinner and pie with the pony I loved. Nothing better.

A lot of celebrities pretend the high life is wearing the latest fashions and living it up in unsustainably giant mansions, and for a while, I had tricked myself into believing it, too. I think that's what Sapphire Shores and I never understood when we were together. No, her lifestyle isn't the good life, at least not for me. For me, it was a warm dinner and a warm pony, the same pony I could always count on every night. I had what I needed – Braeburn was staying with me. Days like those weren't the most exciting or the most scandalous, but they're precious to me. They were the days where we just got to be together, and everything was right, and if I could only relive one part of my life forever, it would be those days.

Friday's practice was lighter, and the show that night in Manehattan went off without a hitch. Even if we were just the transitions team, we put on a damn fine show. There were no reporters trying to scoop us, the audience didn't need to know about my head injuries, and my loyal fliers put on an excellent performance that set the crowd roaring.

But all that noise melted away when I was in the air that night, because I knew that down in the crowd, looking right at me with the special backstage pass I'd gotten just for him, was a stallion that had stolen my heart. At that moment, I knew for sure that we could make it through anything together. I was his wings, and he was mine.

Chapter 40 - Faraway Thunder

The show that night was clean. Smooth. It wasn't perfect – no performance ever is – but there weren't any missed cues or late entrances, and the flow between the main acts and the transitions team, my transitions team, was easy like a summer day with a tailwind.

After the show, the team gathered backstage for a quick meet-and-greet with a few fans who'd won some contest. It was in a small meeting room with the tables pushed to the sides, but at least somepony had set up a backdrop with the Wonderbolts' name and insignia so we could take pictures. Braeburn's backstage pass got him into that room, too, but he hung in the back while we answered questions and posed for pictures with a group of foals. When I wasn't hamming it up for the cameras, I glanced at Braeburn, who leaned against the wall with his eyes on me. His shoulders were relaxed, and his smile was slight but warm. Even with all the activity around him, he'd found a quiet space, and I could practically read his thoughts.

I knew that look. It was the same one I'd had back in Appleloosa while I watched him perform his mayoral duties. My chest had felt full, and my body had felt light. He was feeling the same, because he was seeing me at my best. He was seeing me in my element, doing what I was meant to do and kicking ass at it.

I frowned when I remembered how far he was from his element, but I shook that thought away.

The other VIPs left, and Braeburn walked up to the cluster of Wonderbolts I'd been sucked into. He nodded at everypony in our little circle: me, Wave Chill, Fleetfoot, and Stormfeather, the grey pony we'd brought from the Reserves to work transitions. "Nice show, y'all! Especially you, Stormfeather. Can't wait to see more."

Stormfeather barely kept the smile from tearing his face in half. "Thanks, Mr. Apple! I-I'm surprised you, uh… I mean, I was just following the program that Soarin' put together."

Braeburn rocked his head to the side and smiled. "True, but you are the one that pulled it off." Braeburn: master of encouragement.

I whacked Stormfeather with my wing. "Yeah. If you can learn to take a compliment, you might find yourself on Main Squad before long." Stormfeather stuttered something incomprehensible but happy, and we all shared a laugh.

Wave Chill spoke up. "Main Squad or not, you've earned yourself an invite. After party at my place!" Stormfeather babbled something, but Chill talked over him. "Fleet, Soarin', you down? Hey, I know Braeburn's ready."

I swallowed a lump in my throat and cast a glance at Braeburn. 'There's no way Chill will let him go home sober. Should I cover for him?'

Braeburn shifted. "I-I think I'm a bit tired tonight, Wave Chill, but some other time, maybe."

Wave Chill blew a raspberry. "C'mon, Brae! You owe me a rematch, at least. Don't country ponies like socializing?"

Braeburn bit his lip. "I… That's probably not…" He sighed and looked at me. "I don't wanna be rude. M-maybe we could swing by for just a little–"

'Nnnnnnope!'

I cut in. "Sorry, Chill. We've got our own little celebration planned." I theatrically licked my lips and winked at Braeburn.

Fleetfoot flared her wings and walked between all of us. "Oooookay. I'm leaving before you two lame-o's stain the carpet." She nodded at Chill. "I'll see you at your place in an hour. Let's go, Stormy."

Stormfeather was grimacing and sweating and giving me a strained but happy look. "Uh… yeah. Thanks for giving me a chance, captain!"

"No problem. Good work tonight, both of you," I said. I gave them a quick wing salute as they walked away. Actually, Fleetfoot walked. Stormfeather bounced.

Chill turned to Braeburn, who quickly snapped to attention. Chill chuckled and said, "Some other time, then. And speaking of, uh…" He looked between us. "…you know. That stuff. Thanks for that advice, Braeburn."

Braeburn heaved a sigh. "Heh heh. Didja take my advice?"

Wave Chill grimaced and looked down, trying to hide his blushing. Quietly, he mumbled, "…Yeah."

Braeburn smirked and narrowed his eyes, his voice lower. "And didja like it?"

Chill ran a hoof through his mane and let out a big breath. "Yeah. It was pretty… Ha! Pretty intense but…" He giggled like a delirious colt at three in the morning. "Yeah. I liked it."

Braeburn laughed. "Told ya'. Now you see why I talked about it so much. Lemme know if you want any more tips. 'Til then…" He cuddled up next to me. "I'd better get around to thankin' my coltfriend here for such a great show."

I wrapped a wing around him and kissed his forehead. "Anything for a fan."

Chill snorted. "You mean with a fan." He hoof-bumped me. "I'll catch you guys later. See you Monday, Soarin'."

We said goodbye to a few more teammates, and then we left out the back exit into our sky cab. Once we were in the air, Braeburn hugged me tightly. "Thanks for the save back there, Big Blue. I think I might've gone with him if you hadn't stepped in."

I kissed him again and hugged back. "No problem, Applebutt."

I got an extra serving of pie that night. Frozen pie, actually. Heh heh.

On Sunday morning, Braeburn taught me how to make oatmeal from scratch. It was straightforward enough that I could memorize all the steps, but there was a ton of nuance to it. It came out okay, though. Maybe a little overdone.

I got my pie, we showered, and we cleaned up the kitchen. And then we cleaned up the parlor, the bedroom, and the bathroom. None of them really needed it.

A couple hours later, with the laundry hanging outside to dry, we sat on the couch in the parlor, staring at the walls. I asked, "So… what do you wanna do today?"

Braeburn shrugged and looked around. "Need anything done around here? I ain't all that experienced with cloud masonry, but I could try."

Everything was already spotless. "Uh… not really. The landlords take care of anything like that."

"So… everythin's runnin' smooth?"

I shrugged back. "Guess so." I smiled and nudged his shoulder. "So you can relax."

"Heh." Braeburn stared at the wall again. "Seems like that's about all I do."

I chuckled and batted at him. "Life of luxury wearing you down?"

He smiled. "I guess." He turned back to the wall.

It was quiet.

It stayed quiet.

We were just sitting there, blinking at the walls, waiting for the other pony to talk. Every time I thought of something, it caught in my throat. Nothing felt right, and all our usual conversation topics seemed… off somehow.

Braeburn sighed.

I cocked an eyebrow at him. "What are you thinking about?"

He paused. "Aw, nothin'."

I frowned. "Bullshit."

Braeburn grunted. "I, uh…" He scratched his chin and didn't look at me. "I don't wanna make you uncomfortable."

My voice flattened. "Applebutt, you can read something if you want to. I won't freak out."

"It's not that." He shook his head. "It can wait until tomorrow."

I rolled my eyes and spoke flatly. "Braeburn, tell me."

"Do I–"

"Tell me." I glared.

He hung his head. "Fine. I need to write my monthly report for Minister Long Reign back in Canterlot. Ya' know, the one where I tell him how Appleloosa's doin' and report on any big developments."

"Oh…" I realized I'd shrunk, so I forced myself to sit up straighter. "When's it due?"

"Friday. I've still got some time, but I need to get in touch with Slate and a few others back home." I winced at the word "home," but he didn't notice. "I usually have 'em done by now, a week or so early, in case somethin' comes up like it did last month." He narrowed his eyes at me and cracked a smile, just briefly. "Plus, gotta leave a buffer for the mail, though admittedly I tend to slack on that. The town's growin' so fast, and so much can change in a week. I'm always so proud of what we've accomplished." His eyes unfocused, and he smiled. "Just wanna tell Long Reign about all the details, ya' know?"

I remembered an interview I'd had after the stallion squad had gotten some major award. I couldn't shut up about how great they were at their job. "Yeah. Totally."

But Braeburn's face grew dark. "And I wish I was there to see it myself. I don't like havin' to rely on second-hoof information."

My voice leapt to my throat, and I bristled. "Bronze is still there, Applebutt. It isn't safe for you."

"Yeah, I know," he sighed. "Hell, with what Slate's been sayin', I don't know if I could even get in my house." I turned my head to the side and opened my mouth, but Braeburn kept talking. "Maybe we could visit the next time you tour out that way?" He frowned at me, and I could hear the deflated resignation in his voice.

My response was automatic. "We're sticking in Manehattan for a few weeks, and our next tour is along the east coast." I realized what how I was reacting. "Uh, but yeah! Maybe. We can try to get out there soon." I was lying.

And Braeburn knew that I was lying.

And he knew that I knew that he knew that I was lying.

But he didn't fight. "Yeah, maybe," he sighed, standing up. "I should get down to it, then. Thanks for understandin', Big Blue."

As he started walking away, I said, "What did you mean about not getting into your house?"

"Hm? Oh." Braeburn turned back around to face me. "Don't worry about it. It was just somethin' Slate said in one of his letters. I mean, you were right, Bronze is still lookin' for me, but it ain't a problem." He turned his head slightly. "You're still okay with Slate sendin' letters here, right?"

My voice caught in my throat for a second. 'But… what did he say? What's Bronze doing?' I cleared my throat. "Nah, it's fine." I waved a hoof. "You can go. I need to preen myself anyway."

"Aw, now you're just tryin' to distract me." He stepped closer and kissed my nose. "We'll go for a walk before supper. I'll be in the office upstairs if you need me." He walked away.

"You could set up in the kitch–"

"I'll be okay." He didn't turn to look. "Just need some peace and quiet for a while."

What he wanted was privacy, and what I wanted was to avoid a fight. "…Okay."

Braeburn walked upstairs, and I sat on the couch, alone. With a groan and a shrug, I lay down on the couch and unfurled my left wing. Craning my neck back, I began cleaning myself, focusing on the feathers near the joint and trying not to think about what Braeburn had said.

It didn't last long. 'Braeburn's probably read those letters a hundred times.' I wrapped my lips around a smaller feather and raked across it, getting a few bits of dust off. 'And he's probably just making himself miserable.'

My neck didn't feel comfortable. I shifted on the couch and tried again. 'Luna, he's probably going over it again now.'

I was uncomfortable again. I shifted and grunted, switching to my right wing. 'He shouldn't be so focused on Appleloosa. This is his home now. He wants that, right? He's got everything he needs here. And he's supposed to tell me if he's not happy. He promised. But, like, why not just tell me? What's he hiding?'

"Ugh…" I growled, stretching my neck and going back to my left wing. My mouth already felt gritty. 'And I mean, why wouldn't he show me his letter?' My pulse was picking up. 'Dammit, I bet Slate's trying to get him to come back. The town's probably falling apart without him. He could totally be telling him to come back.'

I shook out my wings and snorted, then rubbed at my face. "Shit." I took a breath and tried to clean the tips of my wings. I didn't feel like I was getting any cleaner. 'No. Slate wouldn't do that. He knows Braeburn loves me, right? Braeburn would have written to him that he did. He loves me. Does Slate care, though? He could write anything in those letters. Does he know I… that I can't read very well?'

My neck felt hot. I was biting harder on my wings. 'Braeburn wouldn't let it slip, would he? Slate was basically the only person he trusted, though, right? Dammit! Why wouldn't he let me see it? I need to–'

I winced. "Ow!" A shudder ran up my spine. I'd pulled a feather too hard. Not enough to pull it out, but enough to really, really sting. "Fuck," I grumbled, taking a couple deep breaths. I shook my head and thought of Dad. "Cool it, Stormcloud." After a deep breath, I promised myself I'd stop thinking about it.

Obviously, I failed. At least I managed to finish preening without hurting myself again. By the time I stood up, though, I was sweating, so I went for a short flight to at least work off some of the adrenaline and stretch my wings. It didn't help, and my thoughts kept cycling as I walked back into the house and tried to nap on the couch. No success there, either.

Braeburn came downstairs an hour or so later. "Hoo! My fetlock's tired. Been a while since I've written so many questions. You ready for that–" He stopped, looked at me, and frowned, then he shook his head. "Sorry. Ready for that walk?"

I looked up, half asleep and half burned out from my spinning thoughts.

We walked. I didn't bring up the letter, but he knew I knew he knew that I was thinking about it the rest of the night.

Things were a little better in the morning, and Braeburn woke me up by softly petting my mane. He worked his hooves through my dark blue hair, and while the first touch was just a little startling, he gently pulled me out of my sleep and into consciousness. My scalp tingled. The first breath of the morning felt invigorating instead of like a chore, and I slowly opened my eyes with a smile. "Morning, Applebutt."

He was smiling back at me, the golden light filtering through his golden mane. "Mornin', Big Blue. Time to get up. You've got your first visit with Doctor Soul today."

I pressed my forehead into his chest. "Can I just stay with you?"

Braeburn kissed my forehead. "When you get fixed up, you can do whatever you want."

A smile curled across my face. "…Anything?"

"Well, within rea–"

"Foursome on the roof with Big Mac and Rarity!" I bolted upright. "Deal!" I quickly kissed his nose and dashed out of the room, shouting, "Okay sounds great love you bye!" From downstairs, I heard Braeburn roaring with laughter.

As much as I wanted to totally commit to the bit and dash out the front door for the day, nothing could keep me from breakfast with Braeburn. It was just leftover oatmeal, but it was still good, and having coffee and talking about nothing brought me peace. And I didn't even remember the letter until I was out the door and flying towards Doctor Soul's office with Eagle Eye.

Doctor Soul's office was only a few blocks away from Hope's. It was much less imposing: the outside had been painted a soft yellow with Magi-mist, and the front of the building had a giant window that let you see inside. As I walked in, I got a better view of the lobby: soft, plush chairs sat in an irregular pattern in the wide reception area. A couple foals played with big, colorful toys in one corner, and one whole wall was covered in framed pictures of different landscapes from all around Equestria: orange deserts in the west, breathtaking views of Cloudsdale, the green plains of the northeast, and plenty that I'd never seen before. The whole room was awash in bright colors, but somehow, it all tied together really well.

A powder-blue pegasus with a minty-green mane was leaning against the counter when I walked in, wearing a loose, green sweater and talking to a pink mare. As soon as I walked in, he turned his head and trotted over to me. "Ah, Soarin'! Welcome! I'm Gentle Soul. Absolutely lovely to meet you." His voice was bouncy but not grating, energetic but not overbearing. Basically, he sounded fabulous.

I shook his hoof. "Likewise."

"Yay!" He perked up, and his wings flared out for a second. "Can I get you anything? Some water, maybe?"

I chuckled and said, "Nah, I'm g–"

He rocked on his hooves. "Because it's very important to stay hydrated, Soarin', especially when you're recovering."

I smiled. "Okay, fine, I'll have some water."

"We've got a smart one!" he said to the secretary as he trotted to the water cooler. As he filled a large paper cup, he said to me in a low tone, "You wouldn't believe how long it takes some ponies to figure it out, especially when, you know, they've forgotten to take their medication a few times already."

I cocked my head to the side. "But… I haven't. My coltfriend Braeburn wouldn't let me skip a dose."

"Perfect! Then you're off to a great start." He passed me the water and jerked his head towards a door. "Step inside, and we'll get started."

Soul's office was larger than Hope's had been, and where Hope had had the professional academic setting with dark woods and lots of books, Soul's office had a big table in the center, and the room was full of bright colors without being too foalish – a little more put-together than the lobby, but no less welcoming. A large window gave a view of a fenced-in yard, complete with an actual, living tree that looked hoof-trimmed and perfectly spherical at the top. The room was all stylish and clean looking, still with a few books, but everything was crisp and round and bright. Gay design sensibilities, I guess.

I stared out the window. "Nice tree."

Gentle Soul paused from moving a few materials from his desk to his saddlebag, then turned and looked outside with a smile. "Thank you. It's a nice side project between patients. Having something tactile to do really stretches out the brain and clears out the crud. I suppose stunt flying is the same for you, isn't it?"

"Totally." I sighed. "Most of the time, anyway."

"I can understand that. There are some problems that even fantastic topiary can't solve. But that's why we're here today. Won't you have a seat?" He gestured to two chairs at the large table. One of them perfectly matched his fur, and the other nearly matched mine. We sat down, and I looked around, trying to figure out if he had a stockpile of colored chairs somewhere.

Gentle Soul pulled out a piece of paper, then overlaid another one on top of it. The top piece had a little window cut out, so it showed some of the page beneath. Gentle Soul said, "Alright, Soarin'. To start, I want to get a baseline of your reading level. I'm going to show you one word at a time, and I want you to read it out loud. Sound good?"

"Sure." I nodded. "Seems easier than what Hope made me do, though."

Soul shrugged and coyly smiled. "We'll work up to the harder stuff. Now, please read." He shifted the paper to reveal a word.

I looked down at it. "Doctor."

"Very good. Next?" He slid the window down again.

I laughed. "Gentle."

"Good." He grimaced. "Keep going."

I read word by word as he slid the window. "Soul… is… my… new… therapy. Therapist! Sorry."

He smiled. "You're doing great. Keep going."

I sneered. "I'm not doing great. I screwed up."

Gentle Soul shrugged. "But you read everything else correctly so far. Keep going?"

"Okay." I looked back at the paper. "He… is… the… world's… best…" He slid the paper one more time. "…bottom. Hey!" I snapped up, glaring and smiling.

"Why, thank you!" Soul wore a giant grin. "Not to brag, but I can really make a stallion scream, and Radiant Hope will be very happy you've come around." He swiped up the papers and stuffed them into his bag. "Hopefully your coltfriend isn't too jealous."

I chuckled. "Prick."

"Only if you're good." He grinned again, then waved a hoof. "I'm kidding, of course. It's a major breach of the law to have sexual relations with a current patient." He adjusted the collar of his sweater, scanned me up and down, and mumbled, "Just one more reason to cure you as fast as possible. Damn."

I kept snickering and leaned forward, one hoof on the table. "How have you not gotten arrested yet?"

He winked at me. "The trick is knowing how often I can pull something like that before you'll report me." He smirked and theatrically rubbed his chin. "I wonder if you'll catch me next time…"

I shook my head. "Are you, like, a story book villain or something?"

"Wanted to be, but I could never grow the twirly mustache." He reached into his bag and pulled out a sheet of paper with a bunch of random letters on it. "So, do you remember elementary school? Because it's time to put those skills to use!"

He slid the paper to me along with a pencil. Recognizing the structure, I lifted an eyebrow and said, "A word find?"

Gentle Soul nodded. "Uh-huh. There are ten words hidden in here. They're listed at the bottom. Plus, there's a secret phrase that isn't listed."

I snorted. "What, am I in kindergarten?"

He adjusted his sweater again. "Certainly not. If a kindergartener found that secret phrase, I'd lose my license."

My eyes widened. "Seriously?"

He winked again. "You'll have to find it to know for sure."

We worked through the word find. Yeah, it took me longer than it would have back in elementary school, but I didn't care. I was focused like a laser, not just during that exercise, but in the evaluations that followed and the different beginner exercises and techniques he taught me during our two-hour session. I didn't realize it at the time, but Radiant Hope had been right: Gentle Soul really was good at his job. In just a few minutes, he'd tapped into something in me, and reading didn't feel like a chore. It felt like a game, where I was always trying to figure out what trick he would pull next. And it felt like I was learning again, making progress, even if it was slow and hard to track. Any time I made a mistake or got frustrated, he helped me laugh it off with a dirty joke or a story about another patient. The last twenty minutes weren't even work – we just talked about the Wonderbolts, our relationships, and whatever else came to mind, and the end of the session caught me by complete surprise. I left with a bunch of worksheets stuffed into my saddlebag, knowing Braeburn would help me if I needed it. In some ways, everything felt normal. I'd been given a challenge and had taken the first steps to conquering it. I felt proud of my work, proud of myself, and ready to take on the world.

The secret phrase, by the way, was "pretty titties."

I got to the Academy about an hour before lunch. The weather was gray and damp, so everypony was training in the weight room. The maintenance team would have the clouds above the training plateau cleared by the afternoon. Until then, Fleetfoot was racing everypony on the treadmills (and winning), Wave Chill was leading a group in a wing-up regimen, and Spitfire and Fire Streak were spotting each other on squats. Metal clanged against metal all over the room, interrupted by rhythmic grunts and strained counting, and the place reeked of all-purpose cleaner and pegasus sweat.

Spitfire finished her set and wiped her forehead with a towel, which she hung around her neck. She nodded to Fire Streak and quietly said, "Eyes on the prize, captain, not on my flank."

Fire Streak's eyes widened, and he chewed his tongue.

As I trotted up to them, I said, "I thought your flank was his prize?"

Streak jabbed a hoof at me and blurted out, "He said it! Not me!"

"Well, you're not getting it if you weird out all my flyers." She wiped her face with the towel again and turned to me. "How'd it go, captain?"

I saluted with a hoof. "Spectacular, captain. Diiiiid you have any doubts?"

Spitfire smiled. "Nah." She looked behind me and called out, "Sightseer! I'm done on this if you still want to use it."

"Yes, ma'am!" Sightseer huffed as he stopped the treadmill and trotted over. "Welcome back, Soarin'! Are you… feeling alright? We didn't see you this morning."

I nodded. "Yeah, I was taking care of something. What's the rumor?"

Sightseer shrugged. "I… don't really want to be a snitch."

I smiled. "I'll make it easy: tell me the rumor, and that's an order." I said it loudly enough to reverberate through the room. Fleetfoot, Misty Fly, and Silver Lining snapped to attention especially quickly. 'Yeah, it figures they would be the first ones talking.'

Sightseer stood up taller. "We're wondering if you're retiring, captain, sir. Some of the 'Bolts think you're moving to something more… relaxed."

I threw my head back with a "HA!" and cocked an eyebrow as I looked around the room. "Seriously? Me? A desk job?"

A few of the 'Bolts laughed along. Fire Streak cast a glance at Spitfire, who was her usual unflappable self. She took a step towards the center of the room. "Soarin's not going anywhere. He does however owe us a presentation about the importance of maintaining an acceptable public image."

I read between the lines, so to speak. I wouldn't just be talking about handling the media.

She kept going. "There's a big storm scheduled a week from Tuesday, so we'll move our usual performance review until then, and Soarin' will talk to us in the afternoon. Is that clear?"

The room resounded, "Ma'am, yes, ma'am!"

"Good! Now finish your regimens as outlined by the trainers – I'm looking at you, Blaze – and hit the mess hall. We've got a lot to cover this afternoon with this week's new routine." There was another round of agreement, and the 'Bolts resumed their exercises.

Sightseer piped up, "May I… do my squats now, captain?"

"Hm? Oh, of course. Captain Fire Streak: spot him."

Streak saluted. "Yes, ma'am!"

Spitfire jerked her head towards the locker room. "Soarin', come with me."

I followed her and tried to figure out what I would say. 'Not really much to say at all, I guess. She's going to ask me to talk about my… injury, and if I refuse, she'll order me to do it.'

As soon as the door closed in the unisex locker room, she sat on a bench and sighed. "You know what I'm about to say, right, Soarin'?"

I sat down opposite her and swished my tail. "Yeah…"

She looked at me sternly. "We can't keep it from them. It could happen to anypony, and I don't want to set a precedent of hiding injuries. Fire Streak and Bottom Line agree."

I hung my head and thought hard, and my brain still tingled from the morning's medicine. It reminded me of walking into Hope's office the first time and how scared I'd been. I shuddered. "Yeah. I don't want anypony to have to go through all this. If…" I looked up and met her eyes. "If they can learn how to take care of themselves better because of me, I'll do it."

She smiled. "I knew I could count on you, Soarin'."

I frowned. "We have to be careful, though. One of them might leak it. The media would go nuts over something like this."

Spitfire shook her head. "Oh, they will not be blabbing to the media again. Whoever told them the first time will be too scared to try it again."

"If you say so. Anything else?"

"Nah." She smirked. "…but I am going to enjoy watching you fumble your way through public speaking for three hours."

My wings popped out. "Three HOURS?"

I managed to talk her down to two hours with a break in the middle, and the rest of the day went pretty normally, though I did get a few more questions from the other 'Bolts. I shrugged it all off, though, because I had something to look forward to at the end of the day.

And I wasn't disappointed.

"Hey there, Big Blue!" Braeburn threw himself on me as soon as I walked in through the door. "How did it go today? Was he nice? Did he tell you how long it'd take to get you better?" He kissed me all over my face when he wasn't asking questions, and he locked lips with me before I'd even closed the door, his hot breath pushing away all the fatigue from the afternoon's practice.

We finally pulled away when I started laughing in his mouth. "You know, I can't answer you with a mouthful of tongue."

"Aw, like that'd stop you." He tugged on me. "C'mon, I wanna hear all about your day. Celestia knows I don't have much to report."

I suddenly remembered what he'd likely been doing all day, and I felt a lump in my throat. "C'mon, Applebutt. You probably spent all day writing letters. It's not like you didn't do anything."

He chuckled. "Heh. Well, yeah, I suppose. Took two envelopes to fit everything in, and I still need to figure out what I'm gonna tell Slate about Las Pegasus."

I tried to be subtle. "Did you… get any other mail from him?"

He sighed. "Well, no. Was hopin' to get another update, but I might have to just wait."

We sat down in the kitchen. "You've always got those other letters he sent."

"Aw, I've already read those to death," he said with a hoof wave. I'd been right. "Nothin' interestin'. Really."

The silence lasted a little too long.

"I'm serious. Don't worry about it, Big Blue. Just a bunch of borin' stuff, mostly, and yeah, a little about Bronze, but everythin' is okay, I promise. Slate and Silverstar and all them have it under control, and the town's doin' decent, too!" He was talking fast again. "They said it was because I run such a tight ship, and Slate was very complimentary of things, and the apple trees are doin' well. Heh, never know if you can trust the laborers when your back is turned, and…" He frowned. "Aw, don't l-look at me like that."

I hadn't realized I'd been making a face.

His lip quivered. "S-sorry! I-I didn't mean…"

The air changed, and whatever I'd been feeling or making faces at mellowed out. "Hey, it's okay, Applebutt," I said gently as I put a hoof on his. "Don't worry about it."

He dropped his gaze and said, "Sorry… Just…" He looked up. "How did it go with Gentle Soul?"

And just as quickly, I felt the air change back. 'He's changing the subject. He doesn't want to talk about it. Why doesn't he–' I shook my head. 'No. I trust him. He'd tell me if something was wrong. He's not leaving.' I blew some air out of my lips. "Yeah, it was…" I smiled. "It was good, especially his pretty titties."

Braeburn made a noise somewhere between a gasp, a squeal, and a betrayed whinny. It's the sound that every gay pony makes when he finds out his coltfriend likes mares. I freaking loved it.

I told him all about the appointment and showed him the homework I had to do before the next week. He said he'd help out any way he could, but he promised to let me do it on my own if that was for the best. He was always gentle about stuff like that. Supportive but not overbearing. Maybe it came from tending trees for so long, and I think he wanted to see me grow, too.

The letters didn't come up again that night, but they were on my mind at practice the next day. More than once, Streak had to shout, "Stay sharp, Soarin'! You're wobbling!"

At that point, I'd remember where I was and quickly correct myself. 'Focus, Soarin'. All eyes are on you. He'll notice if you slip.'

I wasn't wrong. Streak cornered me after practice when everypony else had left the locker room. "You were a little off today, bro. You feeling okay?"

I shook my head. "Yeah, I'm fine, bro."

He turned his head towards me and leaned in. "You're sure? Because if you're not one-hundred percent–"

"I'm fine, captain," I spat out. I sighed and rubbed my temple. "Sorry. It's not my head. It's just something on my mind."

Streak pursed his lips. "Something at home? Is Braeburn okay?"

"He's fine," I said way too quickly. "It'll be okay. I don't want to talk about it. It's fine. Later." I left before he could interrupt again.

And that night, the letters came up again as Braeburn was serving dinner. It was… something hot. I don't remember what it was. He was talking, acting as bouncy as ever. "…and Holli is gonna come by on Friday after her shift. I can't tell you how welcome it'll be to have somepony in the house. Heh. Might be able to get her to tell me that curry recipe, finally. Of course, it wouldn't hurt if I had an extra ticket to pass her way. Grease the wheels a bit. Heh. Right, Soarin'? …Soarin'?"

"Hm?" I looked up and blinked. "Huh? Oh. Yeah. Sure, whatever."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Were you even listenin' at all?" His voice sounded muted, hurt.

And the hair on the back of my neck stood up. "Yeah! Totally. I'll get Holli a ticket by Friday. No problem."

With a deep breath, Braeburn set out our meal and sat down. "Okay, what's on your mind?"

The kitchen felt a lot bigger, like everything was suddenly a little further apart. I kept trying to look at Braeburn, but every time I did, I noticed some other small thing: a mote of dust on the floor, a light left on in the next room, a small divot in the table…

I looked down at my food and said, "You're not gonna believe me if I tell you it's nothing, right?"

"Not a chance." He scooted closer to me and said, "Best tell the truth."

I groaned. I didn't want to go down that road, but we were already there. "Applebutt, it's those letters. They make you homesick, and I don't know what Slate's telling you, but I just… don't like it."

Braeburn stuck out his lower lip. "You still feelin'… worried I might up and leave? Really?"

I tapped at the table. "I guess."

"You guess?" His voice was sterner. "Soarin', I've told you: I love you and I'm not–"

"So did my parents." I looked up at him, and he looked away. "Sorry, Applebutt. It's… I'm not totally over it, I guess."

Braeburn blew air out of his lips. "I'll try keep that in mind." He furrowed his eyebrows. "But Soarin', you said Slate could send me those letters. It's important to me to stay on top of what's happening out there. It's a young town, and it needs care, and I can do whatever else to make you feel better about it, but some things I just need to take care of myself."

"Yeah, I get it… but it's hard," I said, letting my wings slump. "And it would be a lot easier if I could, you know, take a look at them first."

He jumped back, eyes wide. "You wanna fuckin' screen my letters? What th–" He shrunk. "S-sorry. I-I didn't mean to yell." He was breathing quickly. "Soarin', that's… that's mighty personal."

A dark gear turned in the back of my brain. 'Why the hell did he react so much. Unless he's…'

Braeburn shook his head. "No. Absolutely not. Please, Soarin'."

I couldn't stop myself. I growled, "You're not hiding anything, are you?"

"What? No!" He gently set his hoof on the table and whimpered. "I'm… I just don't want you to be upset. This ain't…" He looked away. "You're just gonna get upset. You saw what happened when you read Bronze's letter back at my parents' place. I don't want you to worry. I can handle this."

I kept staring intensely and stood up. "Braeburn, this isn't just about me, and you know it. What are you hiding?"

Braeburn whipped his head back to me. "Nothing!"

I stepped closer, glowering. "Then why can't I see it?"

"Because… UGH!" He set his forehead on the table and covered his head with his forehooves. He said something, then shook his head.

I snorted. "Braeburn, you said I needed to be honest. Double standard much?"

He peeked out from under his hooves.

'If he won't listen to me…' Calmly, I set a hoof on the table, narrowed my eyebrows, and stared directly at him. "Do you think Jonah would be proud of you for hiding like that?"

Braeburn gasped and sat up straight. His lip quivered, and his eyes unfocused. "N… No. He wouldn't." He let out a long breath and deflated, his shoulders sagging. "Sorry, Soarin'. I'm not… I promise I'm not trying to hide anything from you, but… but this is important to me. Sorry."

I grit my teeth and closed my eyes. "I forgive you."

"…Thank you."

It was quiet.

And as the anger settled, I was left with the weight of what I'd just done to him. My lips parted slowly, my eyes widened, and I realized I had crossed a line. My hooves quivered, and I suddenly wanted to hide somewhere very, very dark. My breathing picked up, and I slapped my forehead. "Dammit!"

Braeburn jumped up. "What? What? I-I'm sorry!"

I shook my head and looked up. "It's not you, Brae. It's… I suck. I suck!" I took a deep breath and covered my face with a hoof. "I shouldn't have dragged your brother into this. Fuck!" I slammed my hoof onto the table. My head kept shaking.

After a sharp breath, Braeburn quietly said, "It's okay, Big Blue." He walked over and put a foreleg around me. It felt more like a tactic – a defensive play – than anything sincere. He said, "This is…"

…

I… didn't know if he was being sincere. I didn't trust him to be honest with me. Him. Braeburn. How… how completely messed up is that?

He said, "This is tough on you. It's my fault for not balancing things better." He pulled away. "But – please don't be mad – I-I still want to keep these just for me." He winced. "There's… there's a whole lot of reasons. It's complicated."

Sarcastic comments rose up in my throat like bile, but I forced them back down. "It's okay. Don't worry about it." I pulled him in for a hug. "I'm sorry. I love you, Braeburn."

"I love you, too."

We went for a walk after dinner. It was… tense.

But we didn't fight any more, and Braeburn told me all about how to mix spices and how you have to taste different combinations enough times to find the right balance. He started rattling off a bunch of foods and what spices to use them with, but none of it registered. It took all my willpower to stay even halfway attentive.

We made it home, I got my pie, and we went to bed after we took showers. Separate showers.

And I couldn't sleep. As soon as the lights were out, my body started twitching and my mind started spinning. 'The hell is wrong with me? He told me he had his reasons. That should have been enough. Why couldn't he have just told me, though?' I remembered our date at Honeycrisp's farm, where he'd planned to tell me he was going back to Appleloosa, and I felt flat. 'He never really changed his mind, did he? He's just waiting to break it to me gently. He doesn't want to be here, not really.'

I fought that train of thought for at least an hour. When I looked over at Braeburn, his chest was rising and falling. It was rhythmic, the way it always was when he was sound asleep.

'But he loves me, and I love him, and that's enough, right? That's stronger than anything. It doesn't just go away. Two ponies don't just–'

A memory stopped me in my tracks: I was a colt all over again, at the top of the stairs, seeing Mom slam the door behind her. I relived the days shortly after, when Dad was frustrated and anxious and sad all the time. He'd put on a strong face, but I still heard him crying in his bedroom once late at night. That's when it hit me that Mom wasn't coming back, that all those times they'd said that the love our family shared was the strongest thing in the world, it hadn't meant anything. Love could break, just like everything else.

My teeth ground, and I struggled to keep myself from heaving. "D… Dammit," I sobbed quietly into my pillow. The bed vibrated slightly with my movements. Cold, gnarled dread crept from my stomach to my shoulders as I thought about having to explain to Braeburn again about why I couldn't just trust him. 'Please don't wake up, Braeburn. Please don't see me like this.'

I looked at him again, then turned away. 'I need air.' As slowly as I could, I crept out from under the blankets and snuck to the door. 'Braeburn's a heavy sleeper. He won't notice–'

A bleary voice mumbled, "Blue?"

I froze.

Braeburn lifted his head. "You okay, Blue?"

I cleared my throat, but I didn't turn around. "Can't sleep. Gonna go get some air."

The cloud bed floofed a little as he sat halfway up. "Want somepony to–"

"No," I said, still facing away. "Get some sleep. I-I just need to clear my head."

Braeburn didn't move any more. After a moment, he said, "If you're sure."

"Yeah, I'm sure." I opened the door. "Love you, Applebutt."

"Love you, too, Big Blue."

I left the door open just a crack so I could sneak back in later. He laid his head back down, and within moments, I was gone.

The cool air outside helped. There was a small, localized rainstorm to the east of the city, low enough to fly above. The raindrops and small thunderclaps kept the night from being too quiet, and the practice stunts I did at least gave me something to focus on. For a while, I was flying, and nothing felt wrong, but I knew that I'd have to go back to reality eventually. I… tried not to think about how familiar that feeling was, how common it had been before Braeburn.

'I'm being stupid,' I thought as I turned for home an hour later, covered in sweat and shivering from the moist air. 'Braeburn told me he's staying. That should be enough.' I snorted. "But it isn't," I said aloud. 'It isn't enough, because I can't get a grip, and it's not going to get better.' I imagined the next couple days unfolding, how Braeburn would know something was wrong, how we'd talk about it and we'd start fighting again.

And how I'd yell at him again. My stomach sank. My head hung. I frowned. "I can't do that to him. I'm better than Bronze."

But I wasn't sure. Actually, I knew I'd freak out at him again. Those same stupid thoughts kept swirling in my brain as I walked into our condo, closed the door, and stood in the hallway while the sweat evaporated. I felt soggy, even though I hadn't actually flown into the storm. 'It's only a matter of time, right? He's not going to show me his letters, and as long as he doesn't, I'm going to wonder about them, and I'll keep being hard on him, and he'll be miserable.' I looked up the staircase and sighed as I realized my other option. 'And I have to protect him from that. From me.'

I wish I could say it was some evil scheme, that I'd been taken over by some dark force and that I wasn't really acting like myself. But I knew exactly what I was doing, and I didn't hesitate.

I grabbed a flashlight from the kitchen, hopped into the air, and fluttered silently up the stairs. My eyes adjusted to the dark, and I knew my way around enough to not bump into any of the pictures on the walls. The bedroom door was still open a crack. When I peeked in, Braeburn was sound asleep, even snoring a little. I wondered why he'd woken up so easily the first time, but I didn't want to risk testing it.

I shut the door most of the way and hovered into the upstairs office. With an eighth-turn of the gem on the flashlight, I turned it on, as dim as starlight. The desk sat over in the corner of the room, perfectly organized, of course. There were a couple stacks of papers, but two envelopes with somepony else's hoofwriting sat in a pile. Squinting, I floated over and picked up the one with the later postal stamp, careful to memorize exactly how it had been sitting there. The whole operation took maybe twenty seconds, but by the time I'd left, it had felt like hours.

In the parlor downstairs, I turned on a small gem lamp, the one that sat on the table with the picture of Dad. The light was just barely enough to read by, but I didn't dare turn it brighter.

I stared at the envelope in my hooves. Everything I was doing seemed so logical at the time. I wasn't stealing his letter. I was protecting him from my own anger. I wasn't going behind his back and doing something he explicitly asked me not to. I was doing what was best for both of us. I wasn't going to lie to him about what I knew. I was going to take some of the burden off of him, like any caring coltfriend would.

There was a dark, cold feeling in my gut, but I pushed it down, mumbled to myself, "Love you, Braeburn," and carefully slipped four pages from the envelope.

To Gentle Soul's credit, he really did know what his patients needed. I used a lot of the techniques he'd taught me on the first day of therapy, from reading words one letter at a time to taking a breath and skipping a sentence whenever I got frustrated. I don't know if it was good or bad that I'd already learned so much from him.

It was tough reading a long letter with subpar hoofwriting, almost as tough as it is to talk about now. And I need you to do something for me: don't go easy on me. Judge me, and be as harsh as you want. What I did is disgusting, a complete betrayal of everything I loved about Braeburn, but the sickest part of all was how heroic I felt every time I finished a paragraph. My heart felt fuller as I got a quarter, halfway through, and I told myself, 'I'll get through it all, Braeburn. I promise.' I had to have known how wrong it was, right? Either I was too stupid to know I was hurting my coltfriend, or I was too paranoid trust him. Even today, I don't know which is worse.

In any case, I kept my promise and read the whole letter.

Braeburn had told the truth, of course. Most of the letter was about business in Appleloosa, how the hat market was still booming, and how the orchard was doing fine, though Slate had a lot of questions about anomalies he'd seen and whether he should be worried. He'd written some town gossip, too, probably just to make Braeburn feel included.

The last section was about Bronze. It took me a long, long time to get through it, and I had to keep stopping so that I wouldn't get so frustrated that I couldn't read anymore. It read:

Sorry to say, Bronze is still pestering me about your house. He's making up stories about how he left some personal effects in there or how he's picking up something for you, but don't worry. I got your letter in time, and I know better than to fall for that.

And again, Braeburn, I am sincerely sorry I didn't ask more about your wellbeing. It's all I can do not to go kick his ass right now. I know I already wrote a novel's worth, so I won't draw it out, but please take me up on that dinner sometime so we can talk face-to-face. When do you think you'll be back? We could really use your opinion on a few smaller matters, but it ain't worth fretting about. We'll manage.

I don't think Bronze would be stupid enough to break in, at least, especially since he seems like he's trying to live there again. Silverstar's keeping an eye out, but until Bronze does something illegal, we can't very well arrest him. I'm letting him water the trees and pick apples, and even if his temper flares up at times, at least he's busy, and there haven't been any major fights yet. And you got nothing to worry about: I didn't tell him you'd asked me to give him the job. I wouldn't want him to get ideas.

Say hi to Soarin' for me. Hope he's treating you right, and you'd better tell me if he ain't. Seems nice enough, but I'll bust his skull open if he's as bad as Bronze was. I'm still surprised you decided to move in with him, but I was a young buck once, too, so I can't much judge.

Let me know what you need for that report. I'll get it to you as quick as I can. Of course, Desert Bloom comes first. She's hardly showing yet, but I ain't letting her strain herself none. Husband of the year, right here. To answer your question: we're hoping for a colt this time, but we'll be happy with anything healthy.

Take care, and I hope we get to see you soon,

Slate

…

Have you ever felt relieved and like a complete maggot at the same time? On the one hoof, Slate wasn't begging him to visit. There wasn't a conspiracy to trick Braeburn into going back, and even if he did, Slate wouldn't let him throw himself at Bronze at the train stop. Even better, Braeburn had told Slate he'd picked me over Appleloosa. Braeburn really was planning on staying with me. He'd told me the truth.

And I hadn't trusted him. Shakily, I folded the paper and stuck it back into the envelope, which felt heavy. The crinkling paper echoed in the glass-like quiet, and what I was doing finally sunk in. This hadn't been a quick glance at something private. No, I'd worked hard to invade Braeburn's privacy for utterly baseless reasons, and now I had to pretend like I didn't know anything at all. I'd put myself in a position to lie to him even more. I wanted to puke.

Sitting on the couch and looking around at the dim room in the innermost part of the condo, seeing all the pieces of furniture that Braeburn had fixed, every little part of my life he'd touched and healed, I came to an immediate realization. 'I have to come clean.'

I wish I could give myself credit for realizing it so quickly. I really, really wish I could.

I silently returned the envelope to its place on the desk upstairs, then came down and worked on one of Gentle Soul's word find worksheets to get my mind onto anything else. I couldn't look at it for more than a few seconds without my mind drifting to what Braeburn would say. The pencil felt incredibly heavy, and it kept slipping out of my hoof. I gave up half an hour later after only finding two words.

At that point, Braeburn came downstairs and found me in the kitchen. "Still up, Blue?"

I sighed and pushed the paper away. "Yeah."

Braeburn walked up to me and nuzzled my face. "I'm not gonna make you talk about it now, but please come to bed, love." His warm breath across my frigid cheek… I didn't deserve it. "You need your sleep." He stuck his face against my left wing and took a deep breath. "It'll be okay. Our troubles can wait."

Dueling feelings of comfort and regret swirled in my head, but they both lost to curiosity. "Since when do you stick your face in my wing?"

Braeburn rubbed into me some more, applying plenty of pressure. He said through my feathers, "Oh, like you don't do this to my mane all the time. It's nearly two in the morning, I'm tired, and your wings are nice."

I paused and narrowed my eyes. "This is turning you on, isn't it?"

"…Little bit," he mumbled.

There's nothing Braeburn can't fix about me. We went upstairs, and miraculously, despite the guilt I was feeling, I fell asleep after some quiet hugging.

Those feelings came right back in the morning, though. The morning was quiet. Breakfast was quiet. The flight to the Academy was broken only by the sound of a faraway thunderstorm, rolling closer.

And practice was no better. Spitfire picked up on my lackluster practice. I was able to focus just enough to get through the day, but the thoughts weighed on me the whole time. 'He wasn't planning on leaving. He let Slate give Bronze a job just to keep him out of the picture. He's doing so much work from so far away, and I'm practically sabotaging it, and if he finds out, we're done.' My head drooped in the middle of a spiral, but I quickly snapped back. 'He'll leave, just like everypony else. But I have to tell him.'

I might as well not have practiced that day. Nothing about the new routines stuck. Aside from a pretty normal workout, the flying didn't do anything for me, and the whole day felt like it was tinged with grey.

The flight home was saturated with the same dreariness, like my wings were soaked through and I had sandbags tied to my hooves. 'He's going to hate me. He wasn't going to leave me before, but now he is.' My mind raced with images of me sitting alone on my couch, years in the future. All the furniture was broken again. My jaw quivered, and my thoughts were too scattered to remember.

There wasn't a warm smell when I opened the door. All I heard was Braeburn slowly chopping something from the kitchen. "Oh, you're home!" he said. "Just a second." I set my saddle bag down in the hallway and peeked into the kitchen, but as soon as Braeburn turned my way, my eyes fell to the floor. Braeburn trotted up to me. "Hope you don't mind a simple salad tonight."

I smiled. "Heh. 'Simple' meaning only about ten ingredients, right?" I looked up.

"Well, not counting the spice mix, yeah." Braeburn smiled back and kissed my cheek. "But I wanted to set some time aside, and I didn't know how long." He looked down, then back up at my eyes. "There's somethin' we need to talk about."

I stiffened and nearly swallowed my tongue.

Braeburn laughed and batted at my chest. "Haha! Relax, Big Blue. It's a good thing."

I think I was frowning. "It's… about the letters, isn't it?"

His smile wavered, and he nodded. "That obvious, am I?" He grabbed me by the hoof. "No point in fussin'. Let's get this over with."

I let out a choked, "Yeah."

Braeburn led me to the parlor. There, on the table next to the picture of me and Dad, sat two letters, the ones from Slate. Braeburn dragged me to the couch. "Lie down. I wanna rub your wings."

I looked down. "I don't know if I deserve–"

He stuck a hoof to my lips. "Heh. I need it, too, ya' sexy dumbass."

I curled up on the couch, and Braeburn sat next to me, one hoof stroking my mane and then working its way down to my wings. I shuddered when he touched me near the joints, and despite myself, my body unwound like a rope.

Braeburn spoke softly. "I know that me keepin' secrets is tough on you, Big Blue. I kinda raised my hackles last night, and I'm sorry."

My eyes refused to open. "You… don't have to be sorry, Brae. I'm the one that should apologize."

"Well, apology accepted, but still…" He twisted a bit and started massaging my back with both hooves. "I wanna be able to talk to you about anything, Soarin', and that means some of the more uncomfortable parts, too. And, well, these letters are a piece of that."

I squeezed my eyes shut. 'I'm so sorry, Braeburn.'

"Appleloosa's important to me. You know that, and I know that you just want me to be safe and away from Bronze. I don't always know it at the time, but you're watchin' out for me, just like you did when Wave Chill tried to invite me to that party last week. Bronze would never have done somethin' like that for me."

I opened my eyes, and tilted my head to look at him.

Braeburn's face was warm and soft, and he spoke slowly. "You're a much better coltfriend than he ever was. I want you to remember that." He lowered himself to me and hugged tightly. "Just… keep that in mind, please."

I hesitated. "Why?"

Braeburn sighed, squeezing me. "Well, this next part is gonna make you upset, and I need you to know how much happier I am with my Big Blue at my side."

For a second, I found my voice. "What… what happened?"

Braeburn kissed my back. "Blue, please don't be hard on yourself. The thing is… Well, I feel pretty private about my letters. It's tough for me, and I reacted poorly when you said you wanted to see what Slate was writing to me." He held on tight. "I'd never accuse you of anythin', Big Blue, but I've had some bad experiences, and they left a mark."

I stiffened, and my eyes opened, staring at nothing. I knew what he was about to say. 'No. No way. No no no no no!'

Pressing his face into my wings, Braeburn said, incredibly casually, "See, Bronze used to steal my mail and read my letters."

I lost it. With a scream, I buried my face in the couch and wedged my nose into the couch cushions. My eyes wrenched shut as they filled with tears. 'No! No no NO!!!' My hooves flew on top of my head, and I tried to hide. I tried to not exist. Braeburn's kind, caring warmth felt like acid on my back, acid that burned through to my core.

And Braeburn didn't have a clue. "It's okay, it's okay!" He sobbed once, too, kissing me all over. "Aw, Celestia, I-I'm sorry, Blue! I know you wouldn't do that to me. I'm not accusin' you! It's okay! It's okay."

My bones ached. My head spun. I couldn't breathe.

But Braeburn wouldn't leave me alone. He stuffed a hoof into the couch cushions and forced me to look into his glistening eyes. "Listen here, you. I love you." He kissed away a tear from my face. "I'm right here for you, and we'll work through this together." He kissed another one.

I sat there, paralyzed.

Braeburn was ready, though. He stroked me and cooed at me that everything would be alright, and after I finally started breathing normally again, he said. "And… I want you to know that I trust you, Blue." He sat up and grabbed the letters from the table. "And I want you to see what I've been talking to Slate about."

My mouth hung open, and I half-sobbed.

"And I'm not doin' this outta guilt," Braeburn continued. "This is my choice. I know you worry about me leavin', and if this puts your mind at ease, it's worth it. I'm just sorry I didn't see it sooner." He hugged me again. "So before dinner, I want us to read them. Together. You can start, and I can help you if you get stuck. It'll be good practice. Though, heh, you'll have to pardon Slate's hoofwritin'."

My voice refused to come out, and I merely squeaked.

"What was that, Blue?"

I looked down at the floor again, then leaned into Braeburn. My head shook just slightly, and my voice was dull. "Could… could you just read them to me? I…" My lip quivered again. "I don't think I can right now." That part was true, at least.

Softly, Braeburn said, "That's just fine. Heh heh. I guess that means you'll just have to trust that I'm readin' what's really there. You trust me, Big Blue?"

My heart felt like it had long ago withered. I mumbled, "Yeah."

Braeburn squeezed me and kissed my mane. "I knew ya' would. Let me know if you want to give it a try." He opened the first envelope, and for the first time in our relationship, it hurt to hear his voice. It settled into a low, smooth drone in the background as I sat there, pretending to be upset for the wrong reasons and pretending like I was hearing the letters for the first time. For almost twenty minutes, I hardly said anything as I listened to Braeburn narrate a story I already knew.

When he was finished, I half-heartedly asked enough questions that he wouldn't be suspicious. I pretended to not know anything. I strung enough words together that he believed me. Through it all, I still told myself I was protecting him from something, but now, it was something even more hurtful than a few words. And for all his skill at detecting my lies, he believed me. To this day, he has no idea that I read his mail, that I betrayed him the same way Bronze had, that his new coltfriend was no better than his old one. He doesn't know.

Because he trusted me.

Chapter 41 - Red Flags

There's no such thing as a single red flag. There are always a bunch of them, screaming at you to pay attention, but it doesn't take much effort to ignore them.

It could have been the guilt over the letters or knowing I wasn't any better than Bronze, but I wasn't attentive that week. I just… coasted, letting each day pass by without bringing up why I was so down. I embraced the numbness, and the rest of the week is foggy. The weird thing is, Braeburn didn't say anything about my mood. I guess that should have been my first warning.

The Wonderbolts had three shows in Manehattan that week: Friday night, Saturday matinee, and Saturday night. Braeburn came to all three, but after the last one, he didn't meet me outside the locker room. Instead, he went straight to the cab. As I stepped inside, I asked, "You doing okay, App–"

Braeburn practically jumped on me and gave me a kiss. "Glad to see you again, Big Blue. Pardon me – just I'm a little antsy to get outta here." He hugged me weakly.

"No problem, Applebutt." I tapped the front of the cab to signal the driver. "Let's go."

We didn't say much on the ride home. Braeburn settled into me, and I wrapped my wing around him, but we both kept looking out the window at the city lights below us. They seemed dimmer than usual, which didn't help the sinking feeling in my stomach. 'I have to do something for him,' I thought. Love or guilt? I still don't know.

But I knew I needed to do something, so after he went to bed, I got devious.

The next morning, I woke him up early with a kiss. He moaned at me and kept his eyes closed, so I poked him and whispered, "Hey! Hey, Braeburn!" I poked him again and put my face right next to his. "Guess where we're going?"

"Hwuh?" He rolled over. "Soarin'? Is the sun even up yet?"

"Nope," I whispered. Gently, I said, "But we need to go early. C'mon."

"How are you… Did you sleep last night?"

"Seven cups of coffee says no. C'mon!" I nudged him with my nose.

Braeburn staggered out of bed, and I helped guide him downstairs. The kitchen lights were on, and as we walked in, Braeburn's eyes went wide. "Oh, my!" On the table sat a woven picnic basket, stuffed to the top with sandwiches, bottles of juice and water, snacks, flowers, and fruit. "Blue, what's this?"

I fluttered over to the table and grabbed the basket. "Get your hat. The first balloon leaves in an hour."

Braeburn's chest swelled, and his eyes sparkled, and he looked taller than he had in weeks. "Are we headin'…" A smile worked its way across his face.

"Eeyup! We're spending the day on the ground."

Braeburn began trotting in place. "Well, what are we waitin' for? Yee-haw!"

I'd grabbed a late-night cab while I'd been gathering ingredients for the basket. Our ride was still outside, but Braeburn didn't even notice. He dashed past it, and he probably would have galloped all the way to the balloon stop if I'd let him.

We got the first balloon down to the ground. Yeah, we could have just taken the cab the whole way, but it was much more romantic to watch the sunrise together as we descended from Cloudsdale into the Equestrian countryside. Braeburn snuggled next to me the whole trip, shrugging off the morning chill with me, and we snacked on the fruit while the balloonist delivered us to our destination.

The weather turned out to be perfect for a day trip: warm and sunny, but the bugs hadn't come out yet. Flowers bloomed in the fields and along the river banks, and Braeburn galloped and cantered circles around me, taking it all in and laughing and bucking around like a foal who'd just gotten out of the hospital.

Admittedly, I hadn't thought through what we were actually going to do the whole day. We weren't too far away from Honeycrisp's farm, but picturing Braeburn taking an extended stay there gave me chills. There was a small city we could have toured around, but Braeburn kept insisting he just wanted to be outside, and he promised we wouldn't get bored.

And we didn't. We chased each other around the grassy hills – he made me promise not to fly, so it's not my fault he was so much faster than me – and when we got tired, he'd tell me about all the different types of grasses that were growing around us or what would be in season soon. We spent most of the morning just hanging out and being outside, barely noticing time pass as we bounced around in the idyllic hillsides, just the two of us. A little before noon, we settled in for a nap in the grass, lying next to each other with my neck across his and his middle wrapped up in my wing. His warm body and steady breathing were all I needed to drift asleep.

Though, honestly, the caffeine crash probably didn't hurt, either.

I woke up an hour or two later when Braeburn made a small whining noise. I cleared my throat and said with a raspy voice, "What's up, sexy?"

Braeburn sighed. "Eh, nothin'. Just thinkin'."

"Sounds awful."

He snickered. "Maybe if you tried it sometime, you wouldn't hate it so much."

"Nah. Thinking's your job. I'm just here to look pretty and pay the bills." I gently stroked his back with my hoof. "What are you thinking about?"

"Just…" Braeburn paused, then gave a half-hearted chuckle. "Heh. Maybe this week I'll finally try makin' Miss Holli's curry. If I can find decent spices, that is."

My mouth twisted to the side as I cracked an eye open. I knew he wasn't really thinking about curry, but I refused to break the illusion that everything was perfect. "C'mon, Applebutt. The stores in Cloudsdale aren't that bad."

"Well, then you don't know what good is." Braeburn rolled away from me and onto his back. He swished his tail quickly in the grass and twitched a little, eyes squeezing closed to avoid the sunlight. Some of the green chlorophyll had rubbed off on his flank, and he'd already promised not to wash it off. His legs hung stiffly in the air, and it made my chest tight.

I shook my head and brushed him with my wing. "Oh, yeah? So what is good?"

"Heh. This," he said, flipping on his stomach and gesturing at the field. "Actually…" He lowered his head and took a bite of the grass, breathing in the scent.

I snorted. "Ha! Going savage?" I gestured to a picnic basket I'd brought with us. "You know we have real food, right? I mean, as real as anything I'm able to make." Don't judge – I worked really hard on those sandwiches. They had fancy mustard and three kinds of cheese!

Braeburn swallowed. "See, but that ain't it, Soarin'. I'm not… Aw, never mind," he said, setting his head on the ground. "I don't wanna drag us through this again. No point."

My heart beat faster, and my thoughts spun around like usual. 'He's not happy. He's not telling me he's not happy. He's supposed to tell me. But I trust him. He'd tell me if something was wrong, and he isn't, so he's doing okay. I'm not reading him right. He's okay. We're doing something he loves, and I'm being better than Bronze, and he's going to be okay.' It was a chain of thoughts that had gotten uncomfortably familiar, and I was getting faster and faster at cycling through it.

I nudged him. "You'll manage?"

He sighed. "Yeah. I'll manage."

I looked around the field. "Not feeling this anymore?"

"...Nope." His eyes closed, and he lifted his back up just slightly to sun himself, his tail still swishing back and forth. "Should be, but I'm just… not." He opened his eyes.

I scooted over and stroked his back. "You love this stuff, Braeburn. C'mon, just relax and enjoy it."

"Yeah, yeah, I will…" His tail had stopped moving.

He was doing that a lot in those days. He'd get quiet, and he would tell me he'd figure it out or just get through it. It kind of became his mantra, I guess. And mine kept playing in the back of my mind. 'Everything's okay.'

I turned to him again. "Wanna race to the lake? I'll let you pull me in again."

"There's not 'let' about it, Big Blue." He rolled onto his side and tilted his head back, speaking with a long drawl. "As I recall, somepony nearly drowned in chest-high water." He laughed again, but it felt hollow. "But naw, no thanks. Not really feelin' like runnin' right now."

"If you say so." I lay back down and told myself that it was sunny, after all, and that I liked being lazy after such a hard weekend. Most of all, I told myself I had all day to spend on the ground with Braeburn.

"And actually…" Braeburn's voice caught my attention, and our eyes met briefly before he looked down and pawed at the grass. "Would you mind if we headed back early? This trip is just makin' me homesick."

My ears drooped. "You sure, Applebutt? We've only been here for a few hours. You seemed really happy this morning."

"Yeah, well… I dunno." He sat up and looked around. "I don't wanna fight. This was real sweet of you, Big Blue, but I think I've had enough."

The wind took on a sudden chill. "Okay, but don't you think it'll be boring back–"

Braeburn stood up abruptly. "It's fine, Soarin'." He rubbed his eyes. "Sorry for raisin' my voice."

"It's okay." I took a deep breath of the clean air. "Let's walk around for a little while, though, okay? I think you need it."

Braeburn shrugged. "That's fair."

We chose a direction with some rolling hills and a worn path. As we walked, I tried to get into Braeburn's mindset: I paid attention to the cool dirt beneath my hooves, smelled the clear, slightly humid air, and turned my face towards the soothing breeze. Braeburn didn't say anything, so I finally bumped up against him and said, "You're not gonna let me be the better earth pony, are you?"

He cocked an eyebrow. "Hm? What do you mean?"

"Well," I said with a smirk, "Maybe I've taken swimming lessons while you weren't looking." I narrowed my eyes. "Have you even met this 'Gentle Soul' guy? Maybe I'm already a world class swimmer, and you don't even know it. That lake from last time is just over this ridge."

Braeburn stifled a smile. "You're just askin' for it, now, mister. Don't forget who jumped in first last time. You were mighty slow, as I recall."

"Ha! You're the one that's gonna need the head start."

"Head start?" Braeburn stopped in his tracks, and I turned to face him. He rolled his eyes and said, "That's ridiculous, not to mention dishonorable. I would never ever accept a–" He bolted for the lake.

"Hey!" I took off after him, wings at my sides. He let me almost catch up, but he was the first to the edge of the dock. I didn't let him off easy, though. I tackled him into the water when he turned around to gloat, and for a few, wet minutes, everything was fine again. I drew that happy moment out as long as I could.

But by the time we were riding the balloon back up to Cloudsdale, Braeburn was slouching again, staring at the ground that grew further and further away. He only ate a few bites of his sandwich, and the whole ride back, he seemed totally zoned out.

I still kept telling myself, 'He'll be fine.'

But telling myself something and believing it are completely different. The next day at Doctor Soul's office, I couldn't focus on the comprehension exercise I was working through.

Gentle Soul leaned over, wearing a red sweater in the same style as the green one he'd worn the previous week. "You can take all the time you need, Soarin', but something tells me you weren't paying much attention to that last paragraph."

I looked up at him. "Hm? Oh, uh…" I ran my hoof along a few random lines until I saw an out-of-place sentence about the Wonderbolts. "Oh. Chickens. Heh. Nice." My wings were drooping, so I straightened them out.

Gentle Soul's expression flattened. "Let's put this one away for now."

More to myself, I said, "I should be working." Silently, I added, 'I shouldn't be worrying about Braeburn.'

Gentle Soul raised an eyebrow. "You're supposed to get quality care, but we need you to be here mentally. And as much as I want to believe my stunning body is distracting you, Radiant says I've already hit my self-delusion limit for the month. What's on your mind?"

I was silent for long moment, leaving a hoof on the worksheet. I didn't want him to take it away.

Gentle Soul sat back, his voice mellowing in a way I hadn't heard before. "You know, Soarin', I am a licensed psychiatrist, and therapy takes many different forms. Talking can be incredibly valuable. I can comp you for the time, if that's what you're worried about."

"It's not that. It's…" I sighed. 'Braeburn's going to be okay. Slate got him all the answers he needed for his report, and Long Reign probably got it in time. It's okay.' I looked up. "It'll be okay. I want to try reading again."

Gentle Soul said, "If you say so. I'm always available here if you want to talk. And I'll give you my personal address for after hours if you need. Feel free to bring Braeburn, too."

"No!" I shook my head and stretched out my wings, blushing. "Uh, I… I mean…" I paused and blinked, then used my sultriest voice. "...Was that a proposition?"

He smiled coyly. "Oh, certainly not, Soarin'. You'll know when it's a proposition, unless you think I'm a particularly subtle pony?"

I laughed once, then looked back down at my paper. "Let's just read again."

"Alright, but please remember that I'm here when you need me."

It… wasn't a great session, but I shook it off and focused during Wonderbolts practice, and my flying was on point. It needed to be – I'd been bumped back up to main squad for the following weekend. Monday practice went well, and the speech I gave on Tuesday wasn't too bad, either. When I got home on that day, I–

* * * * *

I stop Soarin' mid-sentence. "You mean your talk on safety?"

Soarin' grunts. "Yeah. That one."

I cast a sideways glance. He's doesn't want to bite. "I'd like to hear how it went, if you don't mind."

Soarin' pauses and looks out at the sun, which hangs low in the sky and tints it just the slightest bit orange. "I mean, I kind of do."

Navigate carefully. I wouldn't want to talk about, essentially, coming out to my coworkers, either. But why not? What drives a pony to want to avoid something so important, especially when they're opening up about other, potentially more sensitive topics?

And, more importantly, why the hell am I asking myself these questions? It's his job to answer. "Why do you want to brush over it?"

Soarin' takes a deep breath. "I guess… I'm stilling thinking about Braeburn. That's the part of the story I want to tell. The parts about me? I get those. I've processed them. But, the parts with Braeburn…" He shakes his head. He glances my way, then turns his head to face me. "I've never told this whole story before, you know that?"

I nod. "I suspected as much."

"There's so much of it that I still don't get. Why didn't I act sooner? Why didn't I pay more attention to all the red flags? Could I have fixed everything, or was Braeburn's loneliness and… isolation just unavoidable? I just want to know."

I strain to maintain eye contact. This might sound disingenuous. "Then you probably shouldn't skip over anything."

He smirks. "Heh. Because you need more material for the book?"

I shrug. "Because if it's painful enough to avoid, it's probably important enough to be honest with yourself about."

Soarin' looked back at the horizon, then back at me, then quickly away. "Makes sense. I guess. It's just…" He snorts. "It's tough, you know?" Soarin's head swivels to me. "It felt like a big intervention or something. There I was, standing in the Green Room…"

* * * * *

The storm was raging outside, right on schedule. The rest of the Wonderbolts were filing into the Green Room after lunch. The morning had been easy physically, but challenging mentally: Spitfire had given them the firing squad routine, and Streak and I had given them some encouraging commentary to help them bounce back. They'd spent the rest of the morning in the weight room, while I'd finished putting slides together for my presentation.

I tapped a hoof as I sat at the front, facing the back of the room. Spitfire and Streak sat on either side of me, all of us wearing our official military uniforms with not so much as a thread out of place. I sat up straight, but I felt light-headed.

From my left, Spitfire said, "Keep breathing, Soarin'."

I exhaled. "Thanks." When I turned to Streak, all I got were furrowed eyebrows and a forced smile that wavered with his short, shallow breaths. 'You're doing fine, Streak. This is on me.'

My mind was in limbo until Spitfire stood up and called out to the group, "Alright, Wonderbolts. Calm down." The room snapped to attention, and she walked towards the back of the room. "You may have noticed that it's a big crowd today and that we've invited several of the reserves. Well, that should tell you how important this is. I don't want any of you to ever doubt the importance of proper safety, no matter which uniform you're wearing." She turned around and hit the lights. "So we're all going to listen very, very carefully today. Take it away, captain."

I sighed and told myself, 'Here we go.' With my eyes closed, I stood up. My words came out slowly and deliberately, masking the tingling in my hooves and my jaw. "Wonderbolts. Today I'm going to talk to you about something serious." I opened my eyes and marched back and forth in front of my team. They sat up, but from the way some of their eyes had glazed over, I could tell a few had already checked out. "A lot of you are used to me making a joke at this point. Today, that's not going to happen." A few of the more experienced Wonderbolts widened their eyes – they knew I usually only got like that during an emergency. "I promise you'll understand soon."

I stopped in front of the projector and flipped it on. A blank card shone on the wall. Two heads involuntarily cocked to the side in the crowd – they'd still expected a jokey drawing on the first slide. I continued, standing tall and speaking clearly despite the heaviness in my heart and the hotness at the back of my neck. "Injuries are a reality of stunt flying. We live and work a hair's breadth away from disaster, and if we don't take the risks seriously, we become a danger to ourselves and each other. The first slide is an example of a pony who–" My voice caught in my throat, and my heart skipped a beat, but I quickly recovered. "–didn't pay attention. Brace yourselves. This could happen to anypony, even the best of fliers."

A few 'Bolts gasped when I flipped to next slide: an MRI of a brain with a red circle around a damaged Bucka's area. The name in the lower left corner had been blacked out.

I could feel half the audience roll their eyes. I mean, I would have, too. We'd all been through it before: a shocking image meant to scare us straight, but after so many presentations, it had lost its sting. But this time was different. Even as my heart leapt to my throat, I thought to myself, 'They don't suspect anything. Go in for the kill, Stormcloud. It could save their lives.'

I steeled myself and cleared my throat. "And I do mean anypony."

To this day, I'm proud of my stoicism. With a click of the projector, the slides switched. The next slide was nearly identical to the first except for one crucial difference, something that a keen-eyed Wonderbolt would never, ever miss: in the lower left corner read the words "Windsong, Soarin'."

Some breathed sharply in, some breathed quickly out, but everypony reacted. Fleetfoot mumbled, "That can't be real," while Wave Chill let out a much less subtle, "No fucking way!" I felt the heat of their eyes on me, but I stared straight ahead, and out of my periphery, I saw several of the 'Bolts look to Streak and Spitfire, who remained unflappable, a solemn admission that what they were seeing was real.

"Please don't make the same mistakes I have."

Questions erupted, and we fielded a few of them while I slogged through my presentation. Most of the team wasn't paying attention to the specifics, but that didn't matter as much. They'd gotten the message, and that lightened the weight of my responsibility somewhat. Turns out that Spitfire had been right: we ended up taking nearly three hours to get through all the questions, the tears, the anger, and the fear. We covered everything from official policy to practical examples to the fact that I couldn't read anymore, and by the end, the room was dead quiet. I'd made my point.

We dismissed everypony after the presentation, and most of them filed out with their heads hung and their wings stiff, and just like the day I'd gotten cut, I felt detached from every single one of them. It sucked, but I get it. I was a reminder of what could happen, and that made everypony nervous. But I'd done it, at least, and Streak and Spitfire were there to support me.

When it was just the three of us, Spitfire took off her sunglasses and sighed. "I think you got through to them, Soarin'."

I shook my head. "Yeah. I just wish they'd pay attention without something serious happening."

Streak strode up next to me. "That's what it takes sometimes, bro. You need to be reminded how bad things can get before you finally do something about it."

"Yeah, I guess." My eyes didn't leave the back wall, which had grown blurry.

Spitfire saluted me. "You did a good thing today, Windsong. You should be proud, and as much as I'm sure you're about to start looking to me for support, I imagine a certain stallion might be better suited for the job."

I smiled. "Yeah."

I didn't bother showering – I needed to go see my Applebutt. After a quick goodbye, I flew straight home.

Nothing was cooking when I walked in the door. 'It's no big deal. I'm home early.' I heard the shower running upstairs, so I snuck up and cracked open the door. "Hey there, sexy!"

"Soarin'!" Braeburn jumped in the shower, and his hooves knocked around a few times before he regained his balance. "Hoo! Scared me. Sorry, I was gonna get dinner ready, but I got a little distracted." He didn't stop the shower cloud from raining on him, and he didn't slide the shower door open. All I saw was a yellow silhouette through the patterned glass. "Just felt a little funky, ya' know?"

I smirked to myself as I slid off my shirt. "Or maybe you just wanted to have some fun."

Braeburn paused. "Heh. Well, then, uh…" He jabbed the cloud above him, which slowed to a trickle. "Grab a hot one, and we'll get started."

With a quick turn, I grabbed a fresh raincloud and stepped into the shower, making bedroom eyes at Braeburn. As I stepped into the shower, he had one hoof crossed in front of the other, just the way I liked, and he bit his lower lip. His mane was sopping wet, so I didn't hesitate to start the hot water, which traced his square, masculine face. I moved in for a kiss, but he dodged to the side and rubbed his body all along mine. I didn't mind, of course, especially since his lips had other ideas.

It didn't take us long – he wasn't nearly as subtle or playful as usual – but I relished it all the same. I ended up on the floor of the shower, my body collapsing under the endorphins. Braeburn helped me up, still giggling. "Haha. Somepony had a good time."

"Oh, yeah," I said, nuzzling him in the hot water. "But I need to make you do, too." I moved my mouth to his, but he put a hoof to my face.

"Mind if I get some mouthwash first? Don't wanna spoil my taste buds for dinner." I agreed, and he quickly washed his mouth out while I warmed up again in the shower. He was only gone for a minute, and as soon as he returned, I took care of him. His breath was minty fresh when we finally kissed.

It wasn't just mint on his breath, though. I didn't realize what was off about it, because I'm… not good at picking up on subtleties.

For the rest of the week, we got to live our lives like normal. I got home early again on Friday, and Braeburn was just starting dinner, a light pesto dish that wouldn't weigh me down. He hadn't wanted to make the curry when we were in a rush, and he hadn't been up for it any other time during the week.

We skipped my pie after dinner, since Braeburn said he wasn't up for it. Instead, he preened me for about half an hour, so I was nice and relaxed before the performance. It was our last Manehattan show of the season before we began touring, and we killed it. Braeburn and I passed on Chill's after-party again, but this time, we had a real excuse: Sightseer invited us over to his place to meet his wife and kids.

And it went fine. Mostly. Sightseer's wife, Vapor Wave, doesn't drink, so neither did the rest of us. Their house was cozy, just a little bigger than my condo, but Sightseer said it wasn't too bad with the fillies sharing a room upstairs. We spent most of our time in the dining room, anyway, which had a high vaulted ceiling and some extra couches to one side. There were pictures of their family everywhere, running the gamut of holiday portraits to sports victories to family vacations. There were a lot with just Sightseer and Vapor Wave, too, and at the back of my mind, I wondered why Braeburn and I hadn't been taking more pictures lately.

Vapor Wave had made a big, fancy meal that included salad, appetizers, and several side dishes. Braeburn had brought pineapple cake for dessert, and while our hosts finished cleaning up, I talked to Sightseer's kids about being captain of the team. They loved hearing me, and Braeburn quietly sat on the couch, watching and smiling, until Sightseer finally said, "Okay, you two. It's bedtime."

I gave Sightseer wide eyes and a cartoonish frown. "Aw, but we're not tired." The fillies giggled, and before they could complain, Vapor Wave walked in from the kitchen and said, "I'll go read them their story, honey."

Sightseer picked one of his fillies up. "Aw, I can–"

Vapor bumped her nose into Sightseer's, and they closed their eyes and rubbed noses. When they finished, she took the foal into her hooves and said, "I'll take care of them. You always say you want more time to talk to your work friends." She turned to us. "There's some chamomile tea steeping right now. It should be good in a minute or two."

Sightseer smiled dreamily. "Thanks, lovely. I'll get it in a bit." They kissed, Vapor Wave gathered their kids, and Sightseer sighed dreamily as they left.

And I felt nauseous. I was happy for them, really, but here were two ponies that had their act together. They were raising foals and maintaining a house and working with Sightseer's crazy schedule, and through it all, they still found little moments to love each other and be warm to each other. Their life seemed perfect.

I turned and saw Braeburn sitting in the couch next to me, further away than usual. He hadn't cuddled up to me the whole time we'd been at Sightseer's, and I hadn't felt the same warmth from him that I was used to. I swallowed a lump in my throat and told myself, 'It's just a rough patch. We'll have a life like this someday.'

Sightseer watched his wife and two fillies disappear upstairs, smiling the way only dads can. When they'd finally left his field of vision, he turned to us and said, "I'll try not to be too annoying, but they really are great kids. I'm a very lucky stallion."

"Sure are," Braeburn said, looking towards the stairs.

"I know it's early, but have you ever thought about having some of your own? I hear there's a fertility clinic in Canterlot that has options for stallion couples."

Braeburn shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe…."

I nudged him. "C'mon, Brae. Remember what you said at Honeycrisp's? You said I'd be a good dad, and I know you'd be phenomenal. Heh." I nuzzled him. "The best, even. Any foal would be lucky to have you for a dad."

Braeburn stiffened. "Yeah, I suppose, but…" He looked at Sightseer and abruptly said, "But what kind of life is that for a foal? You gotta travel all the time, Sightseer. How do you manage? Don't they miss you?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Uh, Braeburn? Maybe not appropriate."

"…Sorry," Braeburn said, blushing and looking down. "Sorry, that was outta line. Pardon me, but one of my best friends is havin' another foal soon, and I won't be there to greet them when they arrive. Just missin' it all, I guess."

Sightseer shifted uncomfortably but waved a hoof. "It's okay, Soarin'. I don't mind. And you're right, Braeburn: it is hard. I don't get to see them nearly as much as I want to, of course, but I make the most of the time I have. But you're right. I always worry that it's not enough or that they won't get to really know their daddy."

Braeburn hung his head. "That's what I was afraid of."

It was quiet.

Sightseer stood up and said, "I'll, uh… go get that tea. One moment." He sped to the kitchen.

I wrapped a wing around Braeburn. "Applebutt, it'll be okay."

He collapsed sideways into a hug. "I love you, Big Blue. More than anything."

I blinked a few times. "Love you, too. What's–"

Braeburn said, "I'll be better. Sorry for bein' a downer."

I rested my chin on his head. "Applebutt, you don't need to apologize."

He took in a shaky breath. "I really do. And I need to be better. I'm sorry."

With a shift of my head, I tried to make eye contact, but Braeburn avoided me. "What do you mean?"

Braeburn started to speak. His voice shook. "Some days, I've been–" He shook his head. "Don't worry about it. I'm… I'm tryin'. Some days are just hard."

Braeburn bucked up by the time Sightseer came back, and the rest of the evening went smoothly. I was distracted the whole time, though, figuring out my next move. 'That day on the ground wasn't enough. He needs something else. Something bigger.' By the time we left Sightseer's, I had my answer. 'Just hang on, Brae. I'll make it better. We'll be okay.'

I was being naïve, thinking all I had to do was perform some big act of kindness. Can you blame me, though? I couldn't let him go, and what else was there?

That Monday, I asked Gentle Soul to help me write a letter. I'd snuck into Braeburn' office again – for the right reasons this time – and grabbed Slate's mailing address. Gentle Soul, wearing a blue sweater that was the exact freaking style as the others, helped me write a long letter and put the address on the envelope. It freaking sucked to write that much, but Soul made me dictate the full message to him beforehoof, and he didn't let me finish until I'd written it all out exactly. I wasn't allowed to shorten it, and whenever I screwed up, I started over until I got it perfect. It took most of the session and a major headache, but I did it, and my heart swelled when I read it out loud to Gentle Soul at the end.

I had a lot to say, too. I wrote to Slate about how Braeburn and I were doing well, but that he was homesick. I focused on all the good things I was trying to do for him and the fun stuff we'd done, even if I needed a little more help to make him happy. In the end, I asked Slate to get some of the Appleloosans to write a few letters to Braeburn, so he'd have a piece of home that he could spend some time with.

And the whole time, I was thinking, 'I'm sorry, Braeburn. I'll make it better. I'll be better than Bronze.'

I felt giddy the whole day after my therapy, and my flying at practice showed it. I was freaking spotless that day.

And I felt that same giddiness all the way home. I burst through the condo door and said, "Goooood evening, Applebutt! Guess who's been thinking about you all day?" No answer. I cocked an eyebrow. "Uh, Applebutt?" I peeked into the silent kitchen. "Sexy stallion?" I looked into the parlor. "Super Ass?" Upstairs office. "Dick Princess?" Bedroom. "...Braeburn?" His hat was on the bed. I tensed up only to hear the door open downstairs. I rushed down and saw Braeburn walk in, and I threw myself at him. "Dude, Braeburn! I thought something had happened to you."

"Aw, sorry, Big Blue. Thought I'd be back in plenty of time." He had a book sticking out of his saddlebag. "Moseyed down to that café for the afternoon. Never thought I'd be one for those frou-frou drinks, but they're damn tasty. Must be all the sugar."

I paused and raised an eyebrow at him. 'I wouldn't have pegged him for a frou-frou coffee guy either. He's not–' I stopped that train of thought with a headshake and another hug. "Yeah. Sorry for freaking out."

"Ha! You're fine, Big Blue." He kissed me. His breath was heavy with a rich coffee scent, but it had something else barely hiding underneath it, something I should have been able to pick up on, something I would have noticed if I were a better coltfriend. "Now, let's make dinner. It'll help settle my stomach."

I didn't spill the beans about the letters all week, and on Friday, I got an initial response from Slate. He'd mailed it to my office address at the Academy, like I'd asked, and I skipped lunch to read it:

Hey there, Soarin',

Brae says he's letting you in on his mail, and while it's a little odd, I get it. Mighty kind of you to do this for him. I know he'd like a piece of home, and I'm a bit embarrassed I didn't think to do it first. I'll send them out on Monday, and I'll hassle the rest of town to write a little bit if they can.

I'm trusting they'll reach their destination, Soarin'. I've got that faith in you. Don't betray it.

Slate

That last part stung, but I understood how suspicious it must have all seemed.

But Slate delivered the next week. The 'Bolts had Friday night, Saturday Night, and Sunday matinee shows in Baltimare, so Braeburn and I got to explore a tiny bit of the city. It wasn't much more than a walk on Saturday afternoon, though, since Braeburn wasn't interested in "another big city."

After that, we returned to life as normal back at home.

Mostly normal.

Mostly.

…

Just…

…

We'd stopped having sex.

Like, we didn't totally stop. We just… didn't do it as much as we'd gotten used to. We'd banged once or twice between the last Manehattan show and the Baltimare show, but the rest of the nights just kind of rolled on without it. Braeburn usually said he just wasn't in the mood or that he wasn't feeling well, and when we did do it, it wasn't the same. There was less cuddling. It happened faster, and it finished with us each retreating to our own corners of the condo. We didn't use the scarf or any of the fun stuff, and we said a lot less to each other, too.

I didn't think it meant anything. I didn't want it to mean anything. I told myself that I was tired, and I had a lot of worksheets for Gentle Soul and tons of work to do for the Wonderbolts, and Braeburn really wanted to have more, but he just physically couldn't.

See, he wasn't feeling great on most days. I'd come home, usually expecting Braeburn to greet me, but more and more, it had seemed like he was at the coffee shop or sleeping, and he complained about his stomach feeling sour or feeling lightheaded. There were a lot of naps. It was bad that next Tuesday, but when I told him I wanted to take the day off to take care of him, he refused and told me, "You've got a lot of Wonderbolts counting on you, Big Blue. I'll be okay, and havin' you around fussin' would just make me feel worse. You go ahead."

I couldn't accept what was happening, even if it seems so obvious in hindsight.

But I knew I'd be able to cheer him up as soon as Slate's letters came, and on Wednesday morning, they finally arrived at the Academy. The box from Appleloosa was huge, too big for my saddlebag, and it was awkward enough to slow me down when I flew with it in my hooves. I took the afternoon off to get some wrapping paper (I found some with cacti on it) and a card. I even wrote a short message inside, and I made damn sure every word was spelled perfectly:

"To my one and only Applebutt, the stallion I love more than anything in the world. I hope you feel at home, but until then, here's something to help. Love, Big Blue."

I started getting a headache after focusing so hard, but it was worth it.

Once it was wrapped, I carried it in my forehooves all the way home. I arrived safely, but a media pony managed to snap a picture as I got to the Estates. I didn't mind, though: my sole purpose was to make Braeburn feel better. I floated quietly into our house, grinning as I softly said, "Hey, Braeburn. You up?" When I didn't get an answer, I flew up to the bedroom, peeked in, and softly asked, "Hey, Applebutt. You still feeling sick?"

Braeburn was lying in bed. "Hm? Oh, hey, Big Blue." His voice was hoarse. "Yeah, still a little under the weather. I'll be out in a while."

I smiled. "Weeeeeell, I've got something to make you feel better." I hopped into the air and held up the box. "Ta-da!"

Braeburn chuckled and sat up. "Aw, what's that? You're a dream, Big Blue, but you didn't–"

"Oh no. I did. I wanted to." I fluttered over and sat on the bed next to him, stroking his sweaty mane. "You deserve to smile."

"Heh heh. Well, don't know how I could frown with you around." Braeburn extended his hooves to me. "C'mere, you."

I gently set the box on our bed and hugged him. He didn't feel any warmer than usual, but I noticed something else. "Heh." I gave him another squeeze around his stomach.

"Aw, what? I smell terrible, don't I?"

"Nah, you smell fine, Applebutt." I stuck my face in his mane and took a big whiff. When he flinched, I kissed him. His breath smelled like coffee and chocolate with a hint of sourness, like vomit. I lay down next to him and wrapped my hooves around his middle, which felt… bigger. "Heh heh."

"Hm? Oh! Uh… yeah…" He chuckled nervously and covered his face with a hoof. "I… should probably go easy on those chocolatey coffee drinks. Terrible for my belly. Leave me feelin' sluggish, too, I guess."

I laughed again, still holding on. "Did you go there again today?"

"Yeah, though I know I shouldn't. Wish I coulda kept it down." His face darkened, and he mumbled, "I… hope I'm not too off-puttin' for ya', Soarin'."

"Pfft! Nah." I hugged tighter. "More to love, right?"

"Yeah, well… I'd be happier with a little less strain on my fetlocks and a stomach that would quit complainin'." He didn't hug back.

"You think it's just the food?" I let go and looked at him.

He sighed. "Combination of things, really. Feels like all I do is eat sometimes. I should really exercise more."

"Only when you get better. Until then, I know how you can spend your time." We sat up, and I pushed the box towards him. "Go ahead."

Braeburn shook his head. "You're too good, Blue." He took the card, opened it, and read it a few times, smiling and shaking his head. "Don't know what I did to deserve you." He frowned and mumbled, "I really gotta try harder."

I kissed his forehead. "You're perfect, Applebutt."

"No, I'm really not, but you're a saint." He set the card aside and carefully removed the paper – extra slow to drive me nuts – until he saw the big box inside. He peeked inside the top flap and squinted. "What?" With a quick hoof, he threw the box open, eyebrows wrenched. Then, his expression brightened until his face was alight. He picked up two of the envelopes and looked between them. "Soarin'… Soarin'! Aw…" He set the letters down and tackled me onto the bed. "Thank you, Blue! This is too kind!"

I was pinned under him, and I wrapped him in my wings. "I'm sorry I fought with you about the letters, Braeburn, and I wanted you have a piece of Appleloosa. And I promise – these are all yours. I don't need to see them." To myself, I added, 'I'll do better this time, Applebutt.'

But Braeburn wouldn't take that. "Hell no. You're not gettin' outta readin' practice that easy." He scooted up the bed and reclined against the headrest. Tapping his belly, he said, "Might as well put this thing to good use. Come get comfy."

I grinned. "You're not gonna puke on me, are you?"

He blushed. "Heh heh. Not sure there's much left that can come up."

Laughing, I relaxed back into him. His stomach was noticeably larger, and the extra plumpness was actually kind of nice. At the time, at least.

Braeburn reached into the box and fished out a letter, and suddenly we both knew what we'd be doing for the rest of the night. I hadn't seen him smile that much since we'd visited the ground.

Braeburn was sick for the rest of the week, but he promised to go to the doctor on Saturday morning if he wasn't better. Fortunately, he was well enough for the weekend shows, which were in Cape Marey. He seemed perfectly fine on the train ride there – peppy, even – enough that I asked, "Your health turned around quickly."

He looked down at his hooves. "Well, it was nice seein' Holli again today. She's been comin' over on Fridays. We talked a bunch, and it was nice havin' some fresh blood in the house."

I nudged him. "Do I have to worry about you turning straight?"

"Ha!" He leaned in and lowered his voice. I could barely hear him above the rolling wheels of the train, but that meant that Misty Fly and Fleetfoot wouldn't be able to hear us from the next seat over. "Not as long as I get to tie you down and make a mare outta you every once in a while."

I smirked. "Tie me down, huh? So… when the 'Bolts want to go out after the show tonight…"

He narrowed his eyes and smiled. "I may have packed some special luggage for the weekend."

He had, and it was a hell of a lot better than a going to a bar with the team. We spent an hour cuddling after he'd had his fun with me, and as he fell asleep on my chest, I whispered to him, "Everything's okay, Braeburn. We're going to be okay."

The shows were great, the media interviews were fast and – mercifully – boring, and the weekend pulsed along like my heartbeat. I didn't get my pie on Sunday night, but I told myself… well, you know.

My therapy went well on Monday, and I was able to work through the whole session without any major incidents. I still had some trouble with reading comprehension, and a few times, I had to stop when I couldn't go as fast as I wanted with the reading exercises, but I finished strong by reading Dogs in Bogs with only a hoofful of errors. At the end of the session, I slumped into my chair with a satisfied sigh and a dopey smile.

Gentle Soul noticed. "Well done today, Soarin'! You did an excellent job managing your pace, especially."

I rolled my head towards him. "I mean, when I wasn't trying to go too fast."

Soul gathered the materials on the table and sorted them neatly. "You're a Wonderbolt. Fast is your style. You're not the first one who's tried to push his speed, and if anything, it's a sign that you're making progress. Speaking of which…" He shoved the papers into his saddle bag and looked at me. "Dr. Hope had me bent over a chair last night and asked me to schedule a follow-up MRI for you."

I snickered. "So, what, you were roleplaying Braeburn? Screaming my name?"

He deftly crossed his hooves and gave a wide smile. "Or maybe Radiant was Braeburn. You seem like you would enjoy getting your brains rutted out every now and then." He batted his eyes.

I laughed. "You got me. But yeah, can I go in next Monday during my regular therapy time?"

"I'll have the secretary set something up for you. Monday's aren't busy, especially after holiday weekends." His tone dropped. "Now, I know I'm prying, but may I ask: have things gotten better at home?"

I rolled my eyes and grunted, but then I shook my head and took a breath. 'He's just being nice. Chill.' With complete sincerity, I said, "Yeah, we've got everything under control. You were right. It was shaky, but now everything's fine."

"More open communication?"

"More blindfolds."

"Stupendous! I'm so happy to hear it. Again, if you ever want to chat, I'll set something up for one or both of you."

With a slight sneer, I waved a hoof. "Nah, we're good, but I'll keep that in mind. Thanks."

"You're welcome." Gentle Soul looked up at the clock, then back to me. "It looks like we're about at our time. Any fun plans for the day?"

After a pause, I smiled. "You know, I'm gonna go to Bad Sun and see Holli. It's a good day for it."

"I have no idea what any of that means, but it sounds lovely! Enjoy yourself. I know I do."

I grabbed my bags and left. Eagle Eye hadn't accompanied me – no reason to, since the media had more or less relegated Braeburn and me to the "old news" pile – and the flight over to Bad Sun only took a few minutes.

As I walked in and heard the bell, I said, "Gooood morning, Holli! Is my table clean?"

Holli peeked up from behind the hostess' station. "Oh. Oh! Morning, Soarin'." Her eyes were… weird. Unfocused. "Haven't… seen you in a while. Welcome." She grimaced.

I raised an eyebrow. "It's… only been a week. I got you those tickets, remember?"

"Right. Thanks." She looked down at a menu to wipe something off it. "Go ahead and sit down. I'll be with you shortly. Usual today?" Her sentences were clipped, and she wasn't making eye contact.

"Uh… okay. Sure. That's fine." I slowly walked over to my usual booth.

The sky was overcast that day, so my booth didn't have the same bright energy I was used to. There were a few more customers finishing up a late breakfast, and even though they eyed me, none of them came over. Without the sunlight, the whole place seemed a little duller, and the sound of silverware clinking on plates and dishes being washed in the back made the building seem hollow. The air was heavy with a mix of foods, but the scents were becoming stale.

Holli didn't bring my food to me. She kept checking on the other tables, over and over again, to the point where the patrons started glaring a little. I thought, 'She's… trying to get them to leave?' It worked, and she quickly brought them the checks when their meals were finished. She still wore her smile, and none of the other ponies seemed angry or anything, but they didn't linger.

Holli worked on clearing the tables until the rest of them were all gone, and I felt a knot in my stomach. She trotted over to the door and flipped the sign to "closed," and then she slowly walked to my booth with her head hung low. She sat down across from me without looking at me. With heavy, forced cheeriness, she said, "Sorry for the slow service. The shake's on me today." There was a moment of silence while Holli played with her apron.

Leaning forward, I gently asked, "Holli? What's wrong? You okay?"

She wore a tight frown. "I'm worried about Braeburn."

"What?" I leaned back and blinked a few times. Holli had never been that direct before, and I felt it like a slap across the face. It took a second, but I shook it off. "It's okay. I talked to him last week. Everything's fine."

"I'm not so sure, Sugar." Her eyebrows drew together. "He's seemed so down lately. Has he talked to you about what's wrong?"

I put a hoof on the table. "Holli, nothing's wrong. He was feeling homesick, but we talked, and it's all fine. He loves it here."

It's terrifying to think how sincere I was trying to be. I wanted to buy into it. In my mind, the weight gain, the lack of sex, the weird behavior whenever I got home… it could all be explained away. It was all just him adjusting, or it was how he liked to spend his time. I didn't want it to mean anything to me. I couldn't let it. 'And it shouldn't mean anything to anypony else, either. What's her problem?'

"When did you talk to him?"

"Last week, when he was sick."

She put her hoof on mine. "Soarin', I was with him for a couple hours last Friday. He didn't want to do anything. Not bake, not go out… He barely talked to me."

I looked out the window and scowled. "He was feeling sick," I mumbled.

"That's not true at all, Soarin'." Her eyes glazed over as she looked out the window. "What I saw wasn't sick. At least, not like that. But he certainly didn't look healthy, either."

My head cranked to the side and my face twisted. "What the heck is that supposed to mean?"

"Just what I said, Sugar." Her gaze fell to the table. "Something's wrong, and it's only gonna get worse."

My teeth ground. "Holli, I get it, you're worried, but trust me." I tapped the table for emphasis. "There. Is. Nothing. Wrong. We talked about it. And even if there was, we'd figure it out."

"Sugar, what the hell are you talking about? I'm trying to tell you what I'm afraid of, but instead of 'figuring it out,' you're just pretending–"

My wings flared out. "Didn't he show you the letters? He loved those! They made his day, and we read them together!"

She grunted and sighed. "Yes, he did, Soarin'. He showed them to me, and he certainly thought it was sweet, but ponies can't live just off of words. He needs more than that."

I spit acid. "How would you know what he needs?"

"I'm just telling you what I'm seeing." She shrunk back. "I'm not trying to make you upset."

I sneered. "Then maybe you should just stay out of my freaking business." I stood up and stormed off, and as I left, I ignored a weak plea to at least pay more attention.

That conversation knocked me off my game rest of the day. I spent afternoon practice grumbling to myself, thinking, 'Fuck. First Doctor Soul, and now Holli, too? Why don't they get it? What Braeburn and I have is special.'

My distraction showed. We were doing partner drills, and they weren't going well. Sightseer stopped us after a bungled set of spirals to ask, "What's on your mind, captain?"

I focused on the horizon and the weird itch in my wing. I scratched at my face. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Okay," he mumbled. "If you're–"

"Ugh! Fine. A friend of mine tried to tell me that Braeburn isn't doing well. Like she would know! He's doing fine, and he'd tell me if he wasn't." Deep down, I must have known I was wrong, but it was so much easier to deny it. "He loves me, and we'll get it all figured out."

With a small voice, Sightseer fluttered in front of me. "Well, even ponies in love can disagree, Soarin'." He chuckled. "Heck, Vapor and I can fight about the silliest–"

I snapped, "We're not fighting!"

Sightseer shrunk. "Then… what's the problem?"

My mind swirled with answers, answers that I quickly beat back down. I was stifling him. He was lonely. He was bored. He didn't have the chance to shine. I was controlling him. But accepting any of that meant accepting how bad everything had gotten, and I… I couldn't. "There isn't one."

"…If you say so."

I grumbled to myself for the rest of the day. My wings ached from keeping them so tightly folded in. My neck hurt, I had a headache, and I had this low-level buzz in my head about how Soul and Holli and Sightseer and everypony else had no idea what they were talking about. But deep down, I knew, and I kept fighting that feeling all the way home.

The hardest part was the fear that I was hurting him. It seemed impossible – I love Braeburn, and I always will, and that made it impossible for me to do anything that would truly, deeply hurt him. That's how love is supposed to work, right? When you love somepony, and they love you back, then you grow together, build each other up. I needed him in my life, and he needed a strong pegasus, and we loved each other deeply, and that was supposed to make all the bad feelings disappear. But it didn't.

I nearly kicked the door open before walking in. No immediate sounds. No smells, either. Not even sugar-laced coffee. We hadn't made dinner together in over a week. We'd barely been having sex, especially at home. And instead of greeting me at the door, I had to strain to hear quiet, uneven snoring coming from the parlor. More red flags. More warning signs that I should have heeded.

And still, I told myself it was all okay. I needed it to be. I couldn't lose him. He was everything.

Snorting, I dropped my saddlebag in the hallway. 'I need a drink,' I thought. I beat my wings hard and flew to the kitchen, opening up the liquor cupboard and seeing a bunch of options. Nothing looked good. 'Ugh, dammit!' I didn't want to mix anything, and I didn't want to wake Braeburn up by clinking a bunch of bottle together. "Fuck it," I mumbled. I grabbed a vodka bottle, poured myself a shot, and tilted it into my mouth.

And I immediately spat it out into the sink.

Crinkling my nose, I growled, "The fuck?" I lifted the bottle to my nose. No smell, no burn. "What…" Slowly, I took a pull and swished it in my mouth. Water, with just a hint of leftover vodka.

My eyes widened, and I tried to beat back the tide of thoughts that came gushing forward. 'It's… probably just old. Old vodka. Yeah.' I quickly dumped it down the sink and set the empty bottle on the counter. It fell on its side with a moderately loud clink. My eyes darted to the parlor, but Braeburn hadn't woken up. He lay there, snoring, his eyes scrunched closed and rapidly moving behind his eyelids.

I wanted to vomit. Softly, I said, "Braeburn wouldn't be…" I couldn't finish, because I already knew. My throat felt tight, and I turned back to the liquor cupboard. With a shaky hoof, I picked up one of the bottles of whisky, the J.P. Signature with the brown bottle, and I took a drink.

Water.

Heart racing, I pivoted back to the cupboard and rapidly tried the other bottles, one after another. The rum, the gin, the tequila, the ouzo… nearly every bottle of clear liquor had been replaced with water.

Slowly, I set down the ouzo bottle. It rattled against the counter until I let go. My heart had stopped, and I took short, gasping breaths. My head pounded. I tried to walk, but I stumbled and caught myself on the table. I turned my head. Braeburn was passed out on the couch, snoring loudly now. He wore a frown and had furrowed eyebrows, and he lay in an uncomfortable position with his head on the foreleg rest. I silently wondered what his breath would smell like today. After all, he looked like he hadn't taken the time to cover it up.

I turned back to face the liquor. Or really, the water. The false liquor. The thing he'd been hiding from me. His way of coping with everything I'd been doing to him.

My face felt numb. I was hurting him, maybe slowly killing him, all because I couldn't face what was happening. I still pictured myself sitting alone in my condo, completely miserable without him, and I cursed myself for thinking about Mom and Dad and the 'Bolts all leaving me instead of focusing on what Braeburn needed.

'Braeburn is not fine.' He wasn't telling me how much he was hurting. I'd ignored all the red flags, and this is where it had gotten me. This is where it had gotten Braeburn, the pony that I'd said over and over how much I loved. I'd let this happen. I'd done this to him.

I slouched and hung my head, eyes squeezing tightly shut. "Braeburn… I'm sorry. I… don't know what to do." My head shook, and my eyes stung. "Oh, Braeburn…"

Art by SoarandBurn

Chapter 42 - Relief

I think…

…

When I saw how bad it really was, I think I knew what had to happen, but my brain just refused to acknowledge it. Or maybe I still hadn't figured it out. I dunno. Does it really matter?

I probably sat there for twenty minutes, staring at my hooves in silence, until I heard Braeburn moan uncomfortably. He shifted on the couch. My neck felt rigid, but with some effort, I peeked around the corner to look at him. He'd curled up into a ball, his eyes shifting rapidly below his eyelids.

I stood up. It was a reflex, I think. Even if my body felt like a marble statue, I wanted to be by his side. My steps came to me slowly, and every tiny crunch of cloud under my hoof sounded like a thunderclap. My mind had gone blank, and even after all the time I'd spent wishing it would just shut up, the silence in my head felt overwhelming.

I didn't even realize I'd sat on the couch until I heard it squeak. My whole body was numb.

Braeburn lifted his head and opened his eyes, wincing at the dim light. His voice was raspy, and as soon as he opened his mouth, the air rippled with the sour, sweet smell of whisky and vomit. "Hm? Oh, uh, hey, Blue." He rubbed his eyes. "Must have overslept." He was still hiding from me, still lying or unable to tell me what was happening. "Sorry dinner ain't…" He cocked his head. "Uh, bad day? Your ears look like somepony tied rocks to 'em."

My throat felt tight, and I couldn't look at him. Thoughts kept false-starting in my head only to get cut off halfway through. My brain couldn't put words to what I was feeling. It was… It was like I'd come to a dead stop mid-flight, faster than what should have been possible. It was like crashing into the tree all over again.

Braeburn shifted. "You, uh, want your wings preened?"

'Heh. He… wants me to feel better.' For a moment, I imagined him laying me down and taking care of me. My breathing slowed as I remembered what it felt like to have his hot breath on my wings, right at the joint. But then, a lump formed in my throat, and I wanted to slap myself for nearly rolling over and pretending everything was fine. I blushed, and my head shook just slightly.

"Hell, it must have been a bad day, then. C'mon, Big Blue. What's on your mind?"

Instinctively, my head tilted up towards the kitchen, just for a second.

Braeburn followed my gaze. "Did you–" He gasped and went stiff. "Aw, dammit! Blue, I-I–" He jerked back to me, and his voice was shaky and fearful. I could see him quiver in my periphery. "I-I'm sorry. I don't mean–" He coughed. "I-I didn't…"

My face finally turned towards him. I was frowning and furrowing my brow. More than anything, I wanted to reach out and hold him, but he didn't feel real. I was convinced that if I tried to hold him close and comfort him and make everything better, then my hooves would pass right through him, like a ghost. He felt like he wasn't even in the same world as me, and so, I didn't move.

Braeburn could only look at me for a few moments at a time before turning away. He set his head back down, and his body deflated.

I stared at him, saying nothing but feeling pressure build inside. 'I let this happen, but he promised he'd tell me if he wasn't happy. What's wrong with us?' I felt sick.

Breaburn's eyes kept flickering between me and the floor. He shook his head and said, "Soarin', I…" without following up. He sighed and lay still for a few moments, letting his deep breaths become normal and rhythmic. His eyes focused on something in the distance, and when he spoke, his voice was low and soft and slow. "Ya' know… It's strange. Right now, I'm feelin' more relieved than anythin' else."

The room felt cold. I didn't turn away. My stomach churned, and my temples throbbed.

Braeburn covered his face with a hoof. "I'm sorry, Soarin'."

It was quiet.

I kept wanting to move, but I kept staying still, and the whole time, I felt something familiar rise to my throat like bile.

"Soarin'," he finally said after a long, long minute. "If you're gonna get angry with me, then please get it over with. The silent treatment's killin' me."

My jaw tightened, and I shivered. 'Don't you fucking do it, Soarin.' He wanted me to get angry, and that thought sparked a feeling deep in my core, something familiar and all too welcoming. It was a gentle stroke on my chest and a claw at the back of my skull, and it would have been easy to give in to it, but as I felt it thrash inside me, I looked back at Braeburn, my Braeburn, the pony I loved. He'd seen me at my worst, and he'd been so scared. 'I have to be better than Bronze.' Even as my shoulders shook, holding in a growing scream, I wouldn't let myself go. With a weak, cracking voice, I said, "I'm afraid to."

He removed his hoof from his face and looked at me, his eyebrows knit. "Aw, just spit it out, Soarin'! It's what I deserve."

My jaw quivered, and my head thumped, and I shrugged my shoulders as I felt fire shoot from my stomach to my mouth. "What the fuck am I supposed to say!" It was like gasping for air after a week under water, but I clenched my jaw and jerked my head away, beating the feeling back down inside of me. 'No. Stop yelling. Do better.'

Braeburn flinched and looked back to the ground. He gave me a bitter laugh and flatly said, "That's a start."

The lump in my throat grew. I thought back to the parlor in Honeycrisp's farm when we'd first met and that stupid comment I'd made about dresses. I thought about the time I'd shouted down that bully in Appleloosa, the carriage ride with the reporter, and all the other times I'd flown off the handle. Those same feelings roiled inside me, clawing at my chest and my throat to get out. Shaking, I swallowed them over and over again.

Braeburn wasn't helping. He mumbled, "Now's the part where you tell me how disappointed you are and how awful I am for lyin' to you."

I kept my eyes shut tightly. Something at the back of my brain managed to cut through to my mouth, and as evenly as I could, I whispered, "I'm not doing that."

Braeburn's voice was still lifeless. "You should. I deserve it."

"No!" I shouted, facing him. "You don't!"

"There it is," he said, his eyes glazed over.

I slapped a fetlock to my face and took a breath. My neck felt hot. "I'm trying, Braeburn. Really, really hard."

Braeburn's tail thrashed behind him, and he looked at me with fiery eyes. "Why? I'm a fuckin' drunk who lied to you about what I was doin'. In your own house, too!"

I felt like a teakettle without a spout, and the steam was building up quickly. "Because you deserve better than Bronze."

It was his turn to wrench his eyes shut. He shook his head around, whimpered, and growled, "No, I don't! If I did, I'd do somethin' besides sit around doin' nothin' all day, but here I am!"

"You don't do nothing!" My wings flared out. "You cook, and you clean, and you're here for me, and you put up with all my bullshit." I was gesturing everywhere, trying to shake off the twitching energy inside me, but it didn't help. Desperate, I turned back to him and rubbed my cheek against the top of his head. "You're everything I could ever want, and you're still here. That's all I need."

But that… wasn't quite true, and I caught myself realizing it. I mean, on some level, yeah, Braeburn supporting me and keeping me company was all I would have ever asked for. At least, that's what I would have said at the beginning.

But my words echoed, both in our condo and in my head. 'He's here, and that's all I need.' Slowly, I drew my head back, feeling Braeburn slip away as the distance between us grew wider. 'Then… why am I so unhappy?' My head hung lower. I tried make a mental checklist of what made me feel better, and one thought kept jumping to the top. 'Because I need Braeburn to be happy.'

Slowly, my head turned back to Braeburn. He lay with his chin resting on two folded hooves, eyes drooping towards the floor. His eyes had grown dull over the months I'd known him. He'd gained an alarming amount of weight in a short time. He wasn't as bouncy as he'd been that first time in Honeycrisp's orchard. Each day, he seemed more and more distant, and every time I tried to pull him back or wrap him in my wings and keep him to myself, it just pushed him further away from me.

I wasn't happy, because Braeburn wasn't happy.

And more than anything else, I wanted Braeburn to be happy. That's what I really needed.

After a few seconds, Braeburn sighed, "I'm sorry. You deserve more than me, Soarin'. I'm a lost cause."

I snapped back to the present and frowned. "I don't believe that."

His eyes flicked to me. "Face the music, Soarin'. I've failed you. I failed you like I failed Bronze, like I fail everypony." His words sped up. "I failed Ma' and Pa' by bein' a Celestia-damned colt-cuddler. I failed Appleloosa by not gettin' my shit together and leavin' when the reporters showed up, and I failed you by not bein' the coltfriend you deserve! You'd be better off without me."

I shuddered. "No, I wouldn't Braeburn." And I thought, 'But you might be better off without me.' A few stray thoughts blew through my mind, scenes of Braeburn living his life with somepony else. I… didn't really know how to process them.

Braeburn shifted in place. He turned his head away, but not before I saw him squeeze his eyes shut and heard him sniffle. "You should just kick me out. It'll be better for you."

He needed me to be gentle, but instead, I snapped at him, "I'm not Bronze, Braeburn."

He turned back towards me and looked at me with those big, beautiful green eyes of his. "Then you're a saint, Soarin'."

"No," I mumbled. "I'm not." I lifted a hoof to place on his back, but I hesitated and set it back down. "I just want… I'm going to help you, Braeburn. I'll fix it."

Braeburn lifted his head. "I don't really think you can."

I nickered. "Yeah? Well, I do. It'll be okay." It was just talk, of course, just words spilling out of my mouth because I needed to say anything.

Braeburn scoffed. "How do you know that? How can you be so sure all the time?"

I sneered. "I don't know. I just…" I waved a hoof in the air in front of my face, like I was trying to conjure an easy solution. "I'm going to fix it."

Braeburn sat up and snorted. "Soarin', you've been sayin' that for months."

The couch shook as I set my hoof down hard. "I mean it! I'll figure it out."

His shoulders raised. "Well, spit it out it, then! What do–"

I shook out my mane. "Ugh! I don't know!" I stared at him. "But you deserve better than this, so I'll do it! I have make it better. I–"

Braeburn scowled. "How, Soarin'? How?" He gestured around the room with a hoof. "We're sittin' here, goin' back and forth and talkin' past each other, and nothin' changes. It's like we're stuck in the mud here, and we ain't even got wheels on our cart!"

My mind spun. "I'll–" I looked back into the kitchen, and true to form, my brain landed on the easy solution. "I'll throw out all the booze! Right now!" I moved to stand up.

Braeburn rolled his eyes. "Are you Celestia-damned simple? I've got bottles stashed all over this place."

My face felt hot. "I'll find them! All of them!"

Braeburn scoffed. "Feh. Even if you could, you think that'd fuckin' stop me? Soarin', I know the liquor stores around here better than you do by now."

Without thinking, my wings flared out, and my head lowered. "I'll tell them not to sell to you."

Braeburn threw his head back with a sarcastic laugh. "Ha! You really think they'd give a damn? And even if they did, it ain't hard to dodge somethin' like that." He tossed his sweaty mane. "Any other bright ideas, smart guy?"

"I'll–" My brain scrambled for anything else, and I ended up saying something stupid. "You'll stay here! And I'll lock up your money."

With a gasp, Braeburn recoiled and then leaned in, head cocked to the side. "You–" He shook his head before setting his shoulders and staring me down. "So I'll be a prisoner?" His eyes started watering.

And that broke me. "No! Just… Ugh!" I threw my head back and covered my face with a hoof. "Fuck!" My joints failed one by one, and I fell sideways onto the forelegs rest, eyes still covered. I must have bruised my side a little, but I barely felt it, and I mumbled, "Dammit."

After a moment of silence, the heat drained from the room, leaving a cold void behind. Braeburn lay back down and curled up into a small, impenetrable ball. He let out a shuddering breath. "I'm sorry, Soarin'."

I sighed. "Me, too, Brae."

The couch creaked, and we both settled into place. I felt Braeburn there, reaching out for me with his heart, and even as I reached back, we couldn't touch each other. I set my hoof down and craned my neck to see him already staring at me with wet eyes. His lips parted, but then he turned away.

And that pained me. I couldn't bear to see him stop reaching. Softly, I said, "Please tell me, Braeburn."

He looked so small, bunched up like that. "I don't want you to worry."

I raised an eyebrow. "Then you should probably just spill it, unless you think I like the quiet."

"It's just…" Braeburn batted his eyes and looked up at me. "I don't like fightin', Soarin', and I don't want you think that…" He sighed. "I promise I won't ever leave you, Soarin', and I don't want you to think I will. I'd never do that."

That promise was supposed to be comforting. It's what I'd literally begged him for, the thing I'd spent my whole adult life pursuing: a pony that would stay by my side, a pony that wouldn't leave me like every other pony had. It was supposed to heal me, make me feel secure, but listening to Braeburn say it again, after everything that had happened, it hurt instead. It stung me deep in my soul, and I sincerely wished he would never say it again.

Yeah… Deep down, I think I knew what had to happen.

I sighed and lay down on the opposite side of the couch. "You promised you'd tell me if you weren't happy, Braeburn."

He whinnied softly. "Told you I'm a failure."

There was another minute of silence.

My body went slack. "I want to make it better, Braeburn."

"I do, too, Soarin'."

My eyebrows furrowed, but soon, my expression softened, and I curled up, just like him. Words limped out of my mouth. "So… why isn't it better?"

There was a long, fragile pause, like we were both made of stained glass. It finally broke when Braeburn slowly sobbed, "I don't know."

We lay there, an eerie reflection of each other, with a wide gulf of the couch between us. The room felt cold, and every one of my muscles refused to budge. Our breathing felt heavy, and time passed slowly, like it was punishing us for even existing.

I didn't touch him for the rest of the day, and the whole world felt emptier for it.

Braeburn didn't leave my thoughts that night. I mean, he never has. Not really. And of course I didn't sleep. Feeling Braeburn wrapped up in my forelegs – or even just hearing him breathing next to me – would have put me out, just like it always did, but he wasn't there. He said he just wanted to sleep on the couch that night, that he didn't deserve to be in the same bed as me. Hearing him say it wracked my insides and nearly set me off again, but my emotional reserves had been exhausted. Rather than start another fight, I just mumbled, "Do what you want," and went to bed myself.

The room was way too quiet for sleep. My ears kept flicking. I strained to hear Braeburn moving around downstairs, just so I'd know he was still alive. I think I heard the couch creak a few times, and he came up to use the bathroom once, but between each of those little flashes of movement, the silence stretched out like rubber band, always on the cusp of breaking but never quite getting there.

When it was too much, I grabbed his pillow – a special non-cloud pillow I'd bought him so he could sleep more easily – and cuddled with it. I pulled it close to me, felt its cool softness, and slowly inhaled its scent. My neck and wings relaxed, and I hugged it tighter, pretending it was him. For a few moments at a time, everything seemed okay.

But my heart wrestled with itself all night. I kept thinking, 'Should I kick him out?' It made me shudder, not just because of what it would mean for us, but also because of what it would do to Braeburn. 'He'd blame himself, just like he did with Bronze, and he'd feel even worse for letting it happen again. It would destroy him.'

I rolled over, the pillow still clutched to my chest. 'I wish he'd stand up for himself more. I wish he wasn't so passive.' With one hoof, I gently stroked the top of the pillow, ignoring how different it felt from his mane. 'That'd be better, right?' I shut my eyes and looked away as I remembered our fight we'd had just a few hours before. 'No. He tried to, and I just blew up at him. But I'm just trying to protect him.'

I scoffed. 'Or I'm just trying to protect myself.' My head shook slightly. 'I don't really want him to stand up for himself, not deep down. If he did, he'd leave me. I'd be alone.' I shuddered and clutched the pillow tighter. With a soft, cracking voice, I said, "And he'd never come back."

With another tight squeeze, I heard a seam rip. A few feathers poked out, and my eyes watered, and my heart beat irregularly, and I sobbed into the pillow.

But I couldn't let go. I wanted to. I wanted to untangle him from my giant mess of a life and just let him be happy, but I couldn't. I still needed him. I wanted him by my side. I wanted him with me.

But… he was with me, and we still weren't happy. It wasn't the lack of sex or the fights or the conversations we weren't having. It was seeing Braeburn so sad. He was miserable, and I couldn't do anything about it as long as I kept him in Cloudsdale.

I know. I know. Maybe it feels obvious to you. Maybe you know what I should have done the whole time, but when you're in that moment, you still cling to the hope that everything will work out the way you want, because it's the only thing getting you through the rough days. It feels like it's all you have, and if you let go, everything else will unravel with it. So you try every other possible option. You try to sustain that hope and keep it alive, because you're afraid you'll die with it.

I'm not even exaggerating. When I imagined him leaving, I imagined him slamming the door like Mom had or suddenly disappearing like Dad or telling me that I wasn't wanted like the 'Bolts. And… and I didn't know what would happen to me afterwards. I couldn't even imagine it. He was the last thread in my life that hadn't been cut.

But as every other option fell away from me, I took another deep breath of the pillow. His scent filled my nostrils and flooded my mind with thoughts of his smiling face. I stopped thinking about myself, and I started thinking about what leaving would be like for him. I knew he'd be sad, of course. I knew it would be rough for him. I'd seen how hard it was back on our date at Honeycrisp's, and it wasn't going to get any easier. 'Leaving somepony you love must be so hard.'

And I… thought of Mom. I thought of how she must've been broken up about leaving, at least a little. I'd seen how she'd looked again at Dad at Hearth's Warming. She'd had love in her eyes – real love – and that spark between them reignited, even if it was just for a few days. Some part of her must have known what she was giving up when she left, and it must have hurt her. 'She… she couldn't have been completely heartless.'

And I thought about the 'Bolts. Sure, Bottom Line had had it out for me for a long time, but even he knew it would be a pain to replace me. He didn't like having to hurt the team, either, and even if my squadmates had been annoyed at my attitude, they'd all been so relieved when I'd come back. In the end, they didn't want to lose me any more than I wanted to lose them.

And Dad. The doctors said he passed in his sleep. You get it, right? They wanted to spare me. But I asked around, and I found out that it doesn't work like that. If you're his age and as healthy as he was, you wake up. You feel something wrong with your heart, and your body fights back. But it doesn't win, and as a cost for trying, you have a… few seconds of awareness. Dad… H-he…

…

Sorry, this was stupid of–

No. No, it's not stupid for me to talk about. B-but it's really… d-dammit…

S-sorry. Again.

…

Dad must have known. He must have known what was going to happen and how awful it was going to be for me, and he must have fought back. And… and he must have been thinking of me. He loved me, and his last thoughts were probably about wanting me to move on, to keep going, and knowing that, even though it would never stop hurting, I would get through. He wanted me to keep living.

Separation sucks for everypony, at least when they really love each other. It's not like all the flings and one night stands I'd had before I'd met Braeburn, where we parted ways and I never thought about them again. Leaving somepony you love hurts. It's hard, probably even harder than letting somepony go. It's usually not malicious, either. It's… It's what you have to do, I guess. Because sometimes, things just don't work out, either due to circumstances or some flaw that two ponies have that just can't fix itself. But it still sucks for both of them, just like it must have for Dad. He didn't want to go, but he had to.

I'm still not… healthy when it comes to this kind of thing. I don't know if I'll ever really be "fixed" when it comes to my abandonment issues, and I don't even know what "fixed" would look like. But if nothing else, Braeburn helped me see past myself and understand how hard it is to break somepony's heart. It was the first step, and I never would have taken it if it wasn't for him.

And just like Dad had thought about me, I started thinking about what Braeburn would face if I wasn't there. He'd need to go back to Appleloosa, for one thing, and explain to the townsponies what had happened. He'd need to find his friends and work himself back into the community, and even though my eyes burned, I smiled when I realized he'd be back at it in no time.

But he'd also have to face Bronze. He'd need to take back his town and his house and his life, and he'd have to face his past.

But maybe he wouldn't have to face everything alone. Over the past couple months, he'd finally talked to Big Mac about what had happened with Bronze. He'd opened up to Cortland and Gala about who he really was and how he felt, and they were starting to come around. His aunt Honeycrisp was always in his corner, and so were Slate and a bunch of ponies in Appleloosa. He didn't have to be alone back there. I knew he could thrive there, back where he belonged, surrounded by his friends, not like in the gilded cage I'd trapped him in. And, as much as I hated it, he… didn't really need me. I couldn't know for sure if life would get better for him, but I knew he could be happier out there. There was a chance for him to have a better life, and in the end, wasn't that more important to me than cuddling him? I love him. I'll never, ever stop loving him. He's what matters the most to me, more than my career or my health or having him all to myself. And even if I didn't have a plan and didn't know how to set him free without breaking his heart, all the other options had fallen away, leaving just one choice left, and seeing it there in my mind's eye, standing alone and unblemished in the ruin of everything else I'd tried, it looked like a choice I was finally willing to make.

And I… couldn't believe I was having those thoughts.

Braeburn might not have needed me back in Appleloosa, but he did need me to help get him there. I clutched the pillow close to my chest all night, breathing heavily and telling myself that I'd be there for him, that when the moment came, we'd have a chance to make it right.

But in the back of my mind, I still didn't know if I was strong enough.

I skipped breakfast the next morning. Braeburn hadn't made anything, obviously. I considered grabbing some alfalfa, but Braeburn was already scrounging for some whisky in the kitchen by the time I came downstairs. Neither of us said anything as I left.

I flew to the Academy as fast as I could. The wind tore at my ears, cold for a summer day, and I went fast enough that a lightning contrail began crackling behind me, the electricity causing some warmth in my ear near the stud. I pushed on and arrived to a mostly quiet campus. Besides a few recruits doing marching drills and a couple janitors polishing statues, the grounds were empty. Security waved to me, and I managed a half-hearted wave back, but instead of talking to anypony, I flew directly to my office. With mechanical precision, I walked in, shut the door behind me, and sat at my desk, hooves pressed against my temples.

Sunlight filtered in through the window behind me, softly illuminating those old-timey Wonderbolts propaganda posters I'd hung when I'd moved in. Dust motes hung in the air, and my filing cabinet sat motionless while all my awards and certificates looked down on me from the back wall behind me. The familiarity of it all helped rein in my heartbeat.

Still, though, I sat, hooves on my head. I glanced to my inbox, which only had a few papers in it – they don't give you much paperwork when you can't read – but even that pile felt like a hailstorm that I needed to fly through. Doctor Soul had given me a few techniques for when I was stressed, but this… I didn't have anything that would help with this.

I stayed in my office until I heard a knock and a set of hooves lightly trotting in. I looked up. "Hm?"

Spitfire stood there, tall and wearing her sunglasses. "Ten minutes until briefing in Prep Room A. We're going over the protocol and the roster for Summer Sun Celebration this weekend. I'll do the heavy lifting, and I need you to get the teams psyched up. Think you can do that?"

I sighed. "Yeah. Just gimme a minute."

Spitfire stomped a hoof and grumbled, "Dammit."

I cocked my head to the side. "What?"

She sneered. "Streak says I need to work on evaluating emotional states before I assign tasks. I was supposed to ask how you were doing first. Force of habit."

Despite myself, I chuckled. "So what does he win?"

Spitfire shrugged. "Eh, he'll probably just fire me again. So, are you, uh… you okay?"

My gaze sunk, and I shook my head. "I'll be fine. See you at the meeting."

She paused, then said, "Alright. Talk to us if you need to. You know where we'll be."

"Thanks, Spitz."

"You're welcome, Soar." She paused, walked out the door, and left.

I stretched out a wing and looked into the small mirror on the back of my door. The Soarin' that looked back still wore a smile, but it quickly faded. I didn't like seeing him sad, though, so I quietly said, "You're gonna do what it takes." I started to frown and shake my head, but I caught myself. "Don't give me that. It'll suck, but you'll do it." I smacked a hoof on my desk. "Game face. Who the best?" I smirked and nodded to myself. "You the best." And I found the strength to keep moving.

That strength carried me to the preparation room, but it didn't sustain me for long.

Spitfire, Fire Streak, and I took turns explaining about the event that weekend: the Summer Sun Celebration, which ran from Friday through Sunday. The main events, including Celestia's big appearance, were in Baltimare this year, and like usual, the Wonderbolts were doing two shows. It was a pretty simple setup: the whole team, including main and secondary squads, would do an abridged show on Saturday morning after Celestia raised the sun (basically just an entrance and a few stunts), with a one-act show on Sunday afternoon before the closing ceremonies. We honestly weren't doing all that much – way less than a usual weekend for us – but that was mostly due to the sheer number of ponies that were getting in on the festivities, including the biggest stars from all across Equestria. It was one of the shows that let you know you'd made it big, and even the most famous celebrities couldn't afford to skip it.

During the meeting, I did a decent job of telling stories about previous Summer Sun Celebrations, but a few times, Streak had to cover for me or jab me when I zoned out in the middle of Spitfire's explanation of the formations and teams. The show was pretty unique in that basically everypony got to perform together: our goal was to fill the sky with Wonderbolts rather than pull off complex moves, so the routines were pretty basic, too. Streak was slated to lead the stallions at the Saturday show with me as backup, and I was going to take over on Sunday. Besides that, we went over a bunch of stunts we'd be doing as a group. It was mostly the traditional, boring stuff that stretched back to the early days of the E.U.P. guard from around a thousand years ago. I mean, the historical aspect is cool and all, but it's pretty simple compared to what we do these days.

I phased in and out of focus, though, and after we'd dismissed the teams to do their weight training regimen, Fire Streak nudged me. "You're down, Soarin'. What's up?"

I chuckled half-heartedly. "Heh. That obvious?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, it is."

I sighed. "Eh, you know."

We both just kind of grimaced.

Spitfire rolled her eyes, stood up, and said, "Alright. Family meeting in my office. Now." She jerked her head towards the door and started walking.

I smiled to myself. It helped to be reminded that I had a family I could count on.

We walked to Spitfire's office, and she shut the door once we were inside. "You're not doing well, Soarin'. Are you sick?"

I sat down in a chair and shook my head.

Sitting down across from me, Fire Streak asked, "Is it… something that Doctor Hope found? You have another MRI next week, right?"

I kept staring at the floor. "No, it's not that."

Spitfire grunted. "I'm going to do what I do best and be blunt. If it's not work and it's not your health, then tell us what's wrong with Braeburn."

Fire Streak flinched. "Maybe give him some time, Spitz?"

She glared at me. "No. Tell us."

I looked up. "She's right, Streak." I wanted to shrink again, but I tried to sit tall. "Spitz, do you remember that party at our place a few weeks back? Where Braeburn… had too much?"

She sat on the floor and nodded. "I do," she said gently.

The back of my head tingled, like it was trying to keep out the sad memories. "Do you remember anything he said when you were sitting outside?" My breathing was becoming ragged.

Spitfire raised an eyebrow. "He kept wanting to talk about trees, and he seemed really upset that there weren't any in Cloudsdale."

"Brae–" My voice caught in my throat, but after taking a long breath, I forced it out. "Braeburn's miserable here, and–" I pursed my lips and looked away, and I really, really wanted to cry. 'Just freaking say it.' Even though I knew what to say, it didn't want to come out. "No, it's worse than that. He's self-destructing, and… and I can't help him."

Streak said, "Bro, maybe he–"

I shook my head, and my chest felt tight. "I'm not good enough for him. He… He never should have come here." I looked between both of them with pleading eyes, my pace quickening. "Did I tell you I asked him to? H-he didn't want to. I begged him to come live with me, because I was too freaking insecure to let him go. He wanted to try long-distance, a-and I couldn't do it! I couldn't, and now it's destroying him."

Spitfire cocked her head to the side. "Then why doesn't he leave?"

My mind flashed with all the times Braeburn told me he wouldn't leave me, all the times he'd said he'd be there, through thick and thin. I knew it was supposed to make me smile, but instead, I felt a pang in my heart. "He's too good for that. He doesn't want me to be alone. It's not the aphasia, either." I looked up. "Braeburn loves me, and he doesn't want anypony else I love to abandon me ever again. He'd never do that."

Spitfire took off her glasses and sighed. "Soarin', I know you don't want to hear this, but for his own good, you need to kick him out."

My thoughts cycled back through the previous night. "No!" I shouted. "Spitfire, that would kill him. He's still broken up about Bronze dumping him." My shoulders slumped. "I can't hurt him like that, and I don't know what to do."

Streak looked between Spitfire and me, ears flicking as he thought. "Well, could you guys talk about it?"

I shook my head. "Heh. We've tried. I wish it was that easy."

"Maybe you're in a slump," Fire Streak said, fidgeting. Poor Streak. He was reaching for something comforting to say, but all he was coming up with were clichés that he didn’t sincerely believe. At least he was trying. "You're both under a lot of stress. Why don't you take him on a date this weekend? You know, during the Summer Sun Celebration?"

I smiled as I thought of our previous big date, the one at Honeycrisp's farm. Braeburn had wanted to make it perfect for me, and he had. My heart warmed, and I felt myself back there. It might have been the happiest day of my life. He'd done so much for me, and everything from the swimming to the sex on the beach to the dinner had been perfect, just like he'd wanted.

My family kept talking, but I was only half listening. Streak said, "You could probably show him around the city. He's never been there before, right?"

Braeburn had given me something amazing, and at the end, he'd only asked for one thing in return: to be set free. He'd known what he'd needed, what we'd needed, and I'd refused. I'd trapped him far away from his home, from what could have been the start of a healthy long-distance relationship. He'd needed just that one simple thing, and with four words, I'd taken it away from him.

Spitfire flicked a small thread from her lapel. "Braeburn would hate that. He needs to be someplace where there aren't so many buildings. How about the open-air concert on Saturday night, the one on the outskirts of town?"

My heart knotted, and my thoughts raced. 'Why did I beg him to stay? He would have been fine. I wasn't strong enough, and now I've wrecked everything. I can't just kick him out. He wouldn't see it for what it was, and then Bronze would just have him back in his clutches.' My head spun thinking about it: Bronze would have Braeburn wrapped around his hoof in a week, tops. I knew the techniques, and with Braeburn in the state he was in, he wouldn't have been able to resist. 'I can't let that happen.'

Fire Streak winced. "Uh… That's probably not the best idea, Spitfire. Sapphire Shores is headlining that night. Might be a little awkward bringing your coltfriend to your ex's show."

I took a shuddering breath. 'Why did he come with me? He should have just left me for his own good.' I wanted him to feel stronger, like he could be honest with me and stand up for himself, and I wondered if he'd ever even had practice with something like that. Braeburn is such a strong pony, but at the time, he couldn't see it. He couldn't see how close he was to getting what he needed. I thought, 'He needs to know it's okay to stand up for himself. He has to see that he can do it and that it'll be for the best. He just has to take that first step and–' My eyes snapped wide open, and my heart dropped through the bottom of the floor as it all clicked together.

'Braeburn has to leave me.'

Streak and Spitfire both stopped and looked at me. Streak said, "What's up, bro? You look like you've seen a ghost."

It felt like I was suspended in air. It was just like that moment at the apex of a flight, right before you start falling, right when you're weightless and everything feels so wrong and so right at the same time. Everything that was about to happen was clear to me. Sure, I could keep struggling to stay aloft, but I had to come down sometime, and the longer I tried to fight it, the harder it would be to come down safely. I wondered if it was already too late.

I mean, in some ways, I knew it was. Back at Honeycrisp's, I'd had my chance to let Braeburn go, to avoid all the pain I'd caused him. Maybe the media would still have pursued him and it still would have turned out terribly. I dunno. But he wouldn't have felt trapped. He would have had his town behind him, and his parents, and Big Mac. It might have all been better.

But that's not what had happened. My stomach sank, but even so, I stopped worrying about Braeburn disappearing from my life. I stopped worrying about him stepping off that train in Appleloosa. I stopped worrying because I knew it was going to happen. Because that's what he needed.

Spitfire stepped up and set a hoof on my shoulder. "Soarin'?"

I looked up from the floor, swallowing the lump in my throat. My voice was soft but steady, and quiet tears rolled down the sides of my face. "I know how to fix it."

* * * * *

Soarin' looks out of the gazebo. He shakes his head just slightly before bowing it down a few degrees. The brim of Braeburn's hat shields him from the sun, which hangs just above the horizon. There is a long pause. Behind us, a few pegasi make small noises as they swoop into their homes for the evening, but here, on the edge of Cloudsdale, there is nopony but us.

The corners of Soarin's eyes are downturned, and a deep frown cuts across his face. He breathes evenly, then bends his head down to take off his leg braces. He methodically wraps his lips around the butterfly screw on his left brace and slowly twists his neck.

I won't rush him. He may just need a moment, so I allow him to finish his work without interruption.

"You know, I…" He pauses and sighs. As he slides the first brace off, he continues. "It's like Braeburn said." He's looking down. "I felt relieved more than anything else. I… didn't even really think of trying to stop it anymore. I knew I had to let him go, and in a weird way, it felt peaceful. I guess that, even though I'd failed to keep us together, at least I didn't have to worry about it anymore." He begins working on his other brace.

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Do you think you made the right choice?"

He pulls his head up. "Heh. Totally. Nooooo question. I just wish I hadn't taken so long to see it."

"Why do you think it took so long?"

Soarin' pauses again and sticks his lower lip out. "I think we needed each other, you know? Like, everything that happened, from the apple cart to Las Pegasus to Honeycrisp's? We both grew from it. We helped each other. We loved feeling like we were becoming better ponies, and we knew how much better we could make each other, but when the time came, neither of us could let go. Not even Braeburn. It must have been so hard for him to tell me he was going back to Appleloosa, and when I resisted, he couldn't stick up for himself, even though he knew it was the right thing to do. But it's not his fault, really. It's… It's on both of us."

Soarin' finishes taking off his second brace, and he sets them neatly on the ground in front of us, one across the other. He looks at them for a moment and then lifts his head. The sunlight hits his face, and he breathes a long sigh. "You know, I always blamed myself for everything that went wrong. Even today, while I've been telling you the story. I kept thinking that, if I'd done something differently or if I hadn't screwed up so much, then maybe I could have saved us. Maybe I could have avoided every bad thing that happened." He shakes his head. "But it was on both of us. Both of us made it worse, but both of us made it worth trying in the first place. Braeburn taught me what love really feels like. He helped me reconcile a lot of my past, my anger issues, and the way I see myself. And I think I helped him, too. I helped him learn how worthwhile he is and how much support he really has and that it's okay to be true to himself." Soarin' smiles and turns to me with a small nod. "We both needed each other."

I meet Soarin's gaze. His eyes look different from this morning. They're not the sunken, tired eyes hiding a faded soul that I saw earlier. They seem brighter now. Greener. More alive.

I smile back at him. "So it sounds like you wanted a second chance."

Soarin' looks back towards the sun. "Yeah. And I promised him I'd get it right this time."

* * * * *

The flight home after work took no time at all. My head quieted down, and I felt light. It was like when you're at the end of a show, right before the final stunt. You see all the individual wing flaps and turns you have to take. There aren't any more problems to solve – you just have to do it, even if that ends up being the hardest part.

I thought to myself, half in my own voice and half in Dad's, 'One last stunt, Stormcloud. Make it spectacular.'

The door to our condo was unlocked. I walked in, and from the kitchen, I heard the slosh of liquid, a gulp, and a bottle being set on the counter. As I turned the corner to the kitchen, Braeburn turned around and gave me a half-hearted wave. "Hey."

"Hey." I looked at the bottle next to him. It wasn't even half gone. "You drank less today."

Braeburn sneered and looked out the window. "Yeah, well, not for lack of tryin'."

I breathed easily. "I'm proud of you."

He raised an eyebrow and snapped, "Why? I didn't quit."

I walked into the kitchen. "But you took a step."

Braeburn cocked his head back and flared his nostrils. "You're actin' funny, Soarin'. What's goin' on?"

I sat down at the table and motioned for him to join me. After a pause, he did, eyeing me suspiciously. I took a moment to appreciate his body again. Even with the extra weight and the staggered walk, he was the sexiest stallion I'd ever seen. After he sat down, I asked in a soft voice, "Do you have any plans for the Summer Sun Celebration this weekend?"

He scoffed. "Feh. Course not. Why?"

I'm sad to say that I hesitated. My eyes watered slightly, and my lips quivered, but I was already falling. I was past the turning point, starting to build momentum, and I wouldn't fight it. It was time to freefall. Time to let it happen. Looking him in the eye, I set my hoof on his.

"Braeburn, I want to take you on a date."

Chapter 44 - Diamonds

I sat there, paralyzed, staring at my coltfriend. My blood pumped through my body, trying to warm me but running cold. My wings were stiff. My neck ached, and the heaviness that I usually liked in the morning just weighed me down more and more as the seconds ticked by. I wanted time to stop. He couldn't leave me if I didn't progress past that one moment. He was still my Applebutt.

My heart faltered. 'I can't let him go.'

But as soon as I had that thought, I remembered what living in Cloudsdale was doing to him. The last few days had been magical, but I wondered how long it would take for us to slip back into bad habits. I couldn’t keep him from drinking forever, and he couldn't keep me from being controlling and paranoid. I gave it a week, tops, before it would come to a head again.

And I wouldn't do that to him. My eyes watered almost immediately, but I cleared my throat and said a raspy, "I love you, too, Braeburn."

Braeburn nodded his head towards the window. "Can you, uh…" He spoke slowly and softly, and he kept looking down at his hooves. "S-sorry. I promised myself I wouldn't stutter or–" He closed his eyes tightly, took a breath, and met my gaze. As he straightened his shoulders, he said clearly, "Can you join me? Please? I have somethin' I need to say."

There was a half-second of silence, and Braeburn's posture collapsed. He laughed half-heartedly and brought the brim of his hat over his eyes. I could still see his lip quiver. "H-heh," he chuckled, covering a sob. "Even though you already know what it is." He set his hoof down without looking up. "Soarin', why we doin' this?"

I stood up from the bed and said, "Because it's important, Braeburn." It felt like something Dad would say, but it wasn't him. I was speaking for myself, and despite everything, I smiled. "Because… you didn't want me to wake up alone. You didn't want me to lose another pony when I wasn't looking." Braeburn peeked up from under his hat. Even as my brain was shouting, 'No no no no!!!' and my head shook slightly, I managed to tell him the truth. "Because you're a good stallion, Braeburn. You're somepony that your parents and your brother are proud of."

Braeburn sighed and pressed his forehead to the glass. Seconds later, he straightened up and looked at me. "Your daddy's proud of you, too, Soarin'. I can only imagine how rough this is to wake up to."

He wasn't wrong. I was already lightheaded, but I could feel him calling to me. My hooves dragged as I walked mindlessly over and joined Braeburn by the window, seated just slightly further away from him than usual.

The sun crested over the horizon. We couldn't quite see to the ocean, but we looked out at a beautiful view of the seaside area and the wharf. There was still plenty of activity down at the street level, even if the second day's sun-raising ceremony wasn't ever as big as the first. I could almost smell the carrot crepes and the glazed oranges that the street vendors were selling, and I kept having thoughts like, 'We should grab one of those for breakfast. Then maybe we could go to the beach for a while.'

My brain was trying to defend itself, and as I forced myself back to reality, I could feel the mental shift in my skull. It was like adjusting my wings on a warm day after a sudden temperature drop – it was supposed to feel like a natural change, but it always took more effort than I was prepared for.

I focused on what was really happening in that hotel room. Even though we were right next to each other, it felt like Braeburn and I were on different continents. Without thinking, I stretched out a wing to embrace him, but he flinched, and I flinched back. I quickly tucked my wing back in and hung my head while Braeburn stared at the sunrise like a statue.

It hurt all over, inside and out, and it only got worse by the second. My fur stood on end. My head rocked back and then forward, and I shook it slowly to fight off the sudden nausea. I wanted to leap through the window or bolt out the door or cover my head with a pillow. Every part of me screamed to get away from the rigid, tense pony next to me, but I held firm. Sitting up a little straighter, I said, "Please don't make me wait for it, Braeburn."

He responded immediately, and when he did, only his mouth moved. He wasn't even blinking. "You're not gonna like it." Subtly, his head shook back and forth. "It'll hurt. I'll hurt you."

'Don't worry about me, Braeburn.' I swallowed and found my voice again. "Braeburn, this isn't about me. It's… about what's best for both of us. And it's hurting you, too." I looked at him. My eyes watered again, and I took rapid, shallow breaths as my head spun with memories of everything I'd put him through. "And I… cannot stand seeing you in pain, Braeburn."

I looked back down to the suitcase next to him. It was too real. I could picture every chilling detail of what was about to happen, from how he'd walk to the sound of his suitcase rolling along the floor to the horrifying quiet that would follow. I braced myself for the impact, and I looked back up at him, forcing an unstable smile. "So don't hold back. I promise I'll never ask this again, but just this once, be straight with me."

Braeburn looked up at me. He searched my face as his mouth strained between a smile and a frown, and his jaw stayed clenched shut.

My heart felt like it was tearing itself apart, shredding itself into pieces and leaving me with nothing to go on. But as all those pieces tore away, something remained at the very core, and it refused to be unraveled. "I love you, Braeburn."

Braeburn smiled back. "I love you, too, Soarin'."

For a long moment, Braeburn kept his eyes on mine, but as he spoke, he let his gaze wander all over my body. "I love your sense of humor. I love how much you care about me, even if it means you don't get what you want. I love how handsome you are and how you show me so many things I don't know about." He was trembling. "I l-love how you make me feel when I'm around you. I love you." His smile faded, and he shook his head. He was crying again.

And he let out a shaky sigh. "But I'm leavin' you."

I couldn't breathe. I felt myself shrink, and my nerves buzzed, and my bones felt so brittle. One more time, my mind reeled with all the same feelings I'd had since I was a foal. I was at the top of the stairs watching Mom slam the door and saying my eulogy at Dad's funeral and destroying my condo after I'd been cut from the team. I remembered how much I had completely melted down after each of those, how it had always felt like my world was ending, and as much as I wanted to give in and regress all over again, I looked over at how stiff Braeburn was. He leaned backward, struggling to look at me and with a glint of fear in the corner of his eye. His chest was tense, and he was bracing himself. I felt small and fragile as I fell that last distance, but even as all my hopes for the future were dashed against the rocks, my only thought was, 'Braeburn needs me.'

I took an unstable breath and said, "I… understand, Braeburn."

Braeburn let out a half-sob, half sigh. His mouth hung open in an exhausted smile, and his jaw quivered as he took a few gasping breaths. He searched my face, and soon, he was breathing almost normally again. Blinking rapidly, he looked out the window. "Thank you, Soarin'. It… means a lot t–" He wiped a tear away and put a hoof to his heart. "Thank you."

Braeburn's eyes shone as he looked into the distance, and my heart swelled. 'He's thinking about facing Bronze.' But it didn't hurt. I didn't care about competing with Bronze or worry that Braeburn didn't love me. After all, he'd been brave enough – trusted me enough – to tell me the truth. All I wanted was for him to be okay. 'Keep going, Braeburn. I'm still here for you.' I gathered myself and said, "Please tell me why."

Braeburn chuckled. "I don't wanna focus on the bad parts, Soarin'."

"It's not for me, Braeburn." My head shook. "I just… don't want you to doubt yourself. Ever. You're–" My heart rent itself in half again, but I forced out more. "You're doing th–… the right thing. So please just tell me why." My whole body tensed, and I thought about how many times I'd failed him. A dull pain spread from my chest to my extremities. The desire to break down came back in waves. I whispered, "But, like, be gentle."

Braeburn nodded and took a slow breath. "You deserve that much. Hell of a lot more than that, actually." He eyed me for a second, like he was waiting for something. When he saw it, he said, "Soarin', this ain't the place for me. I need to be back in Appleloosa, where I can be myself." His head lowered. "Where I can contribute instead of lyin' around the house all day. I gotta be where… where the air's fresh, with the dirt under my hooves, where I can sweat out my frustrations and help ponies, and…" He wrinkled his nose and waved a hoof in front of his face. "…hell, be mayor if I have to. And as much as I want to stay with you f-forever, I–" His jaw clenched again. "I promised you I'd tell you the truth, Soarin'. I–" He swallowed and looked up at me, frowning. "I ain't happy here."

A soft warmth spread over my brain and my chest. I closed my eyes to savor it, and I heard the soft pat-pat sound of tears hitting the carpet below me. I blinked them away and said, almost silently, "I'm proud of you, Braeburn."

His lip quivered. "P… Proud of you, too, Soarin'."

"See?" My voice cracked. "That wasn't so bad." I could feel my smile falter and my body shake.

Braeburn stifled a laugh. "Soarin', you look like a puppy that's about to wet himself."

Involuntarily, I whimpered.

Braeburn snorted a laugh, and soon we both burst out laughing and swearing and growling and apologizing over and over again. The emotions flooded out of us, twisted knots of relief and despair and discomfort. We kept laughing for a few seconds, until the emptiness had filled back up with gravity, and we both sobbed a few times.

The room grew quiet again.

Braeburn reached out a hoof like he was going to pull me into a hug, but he hesitated, looked away, and set his hoof down. The emptiness in my chest felt overwhelming.

To break the silence, I asked, "Reflex?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

My shoulders sagged, and I pressed my forehead to the cool glass. I missed the warmth of his face against mine. "Yeah. I feel it, too."

"Soarin', there's nothin' I'd rather do right now than hold you. I hope you know that."

I nodded slightly, unable to pull my head up.

Braeburn's tail flicked, and he looked out at the city. "But I'm worried, Soarin'. I wanna see you smile. I wanna carry you back to bed and make love again and… hide away under the covers." He turned to me and shook his head. "But if I grab onto you, Soarin', I would never, ever be able to let go."

I frowned, and my eyelids felt heavy. "I wouldn't, either."

We stared out the window. The sun was still creeping up on a glorious morning, but it wasn't too bright yet. The city was bathed in gold while we sat in our little dark box for a few silent minutes.

I was tired. The bags under my eyes were bigger than usual, and my body ached in every part of me. I could only imagine how Braeburn was feeling. I didn't even know how early he'd been up. About twenty different emotions fought over how I should be feeling, but in the end, it was just a dark, confusing, swirling mess.

Finally, Braeburn broke the silence. His voice was raspy and had a whimper behind it that dug deeply into me. "Why didn't it work, Soarin'?"

I ran through a whole bunch of excuses in my head. The media had badgered us too much. My mom had fucked up my ability to love somepony the right way. Bronze had hurt Braeburn, and he hadn't recovered yet. We'd never had the chance to have a normal relationship.

But those were just excuses, and I owed it to Braeburn to look past them. "I think… we weren't ready for each other."

Braeburn turned his head slightly. "How do you mean?"

"Like, I dunno." I shrugged. "We both had to grow more, I guess. I've learned a ton the past few months." I looked over at him, my heart still full of love whenever I saw him. "I just wish I could have known it before, you know?"

"Heh. Pretty raw deal," he said. "We need to wreck a perfectly good relationship, just so we can learn how to have a perfectly good relationship?" He slumped. "I get what you mean, Soarin', and I think you're right. T'ain't fair, but that's just how it is." More softly, he said, "I'm sorry I wasn't ready for you."

"I'm sorry, too, Brae." It struck me how weird it was to be talking about our relationship like that. If you'd asked me at the start whether we were both experienced, I would have said yes. I thought I'd been with enough ponies to know everything I needed, and Braeburn had been with somepony long enough to understand the long-term dynamics. But that's not how it works. Every pony you meet is different. You can never really figure it all out, but the mystery is what keeps it exciting. You never know if it's real until you try.

And along those lines, something came to me, something that had bothered me during our whole trip all over Equestria. "Braeburn." I was too exhausted to be delicate. "That letter Bronze left with your parents. He… wrote something that…" I cleared my throat. "I need to know, or it'll bother me forever: was I your rebound coltfriend?"

Braeburn frowned. "No, Soarin'," he said firmly. He turned to me and shook his head, tears welling up again. "Don't you believe that for a second. I fell in love with you, not just some nameless pony that treated me right. I love you for you."

My teeth rattled together, but I smiled. It felt like sunlight was finally reaching a dark corner of my brain. "Thanks, Braeburn."

He looked out the window and groaned. "Besides, I'd already rebounded with Coal Shaft and Mellow Harp."

I chuckled and cocked my head to the side. "Mellow-what? Brae, I met you, like, two weeks after Bronze left, right?"

Braeburn gave me a sly smirk, and for a second, I saw the happy, shining Braeburn I wanted to keep in my memory forever. "Soarin', ya' don't get to bein' the best ass in the west without some practice."

I half-sobbed, half-snickered. "Okay, yeah."

Braeburn sighed. "But yeah. They were both tourists. Coal Shaft had rolled into town the weekend after Bronze left – just cruisin' for a gay cowpony to shack up with – and I was all too happy to throw myself at him for a couple days. Mellow was this frou-frou unicorn from Canterlot. Came to town the weekend after you and I met. I tried to convince him to make it long-distance, but it was never gonna work." Braeburn covered his face. "Hell, I was a mess. And I mean, bein' so promiscuous bothered everypony a lot more than bein' gay." He groaned again. "Celestia, what'll they think of me now?

I answered immediately. "They still think you're amazing, Braeburn. I mean, it didn't stop Pride Song from helping you escape on the train, right?" Braeburn smiled. Even if I couldn't be his coltfriend, I wanted to support him. Even if I couldn't hold him, knowing that I could comfort him made me feel like I was glowing, even as I was choking up. "A lot of ponies love you, Braeburn. You've got Big Mac and your parents and your aunt and your town. You… you don't have to face Bronze on your own." I remember something he'd told me once, in a time that seemed like forever ago. "You do have a team, Braeburn. They're all on your side, and… and I'm never going to stop rooting for you."

After a long moment looking out the window, his shoulders relaxed. "Thanks, Soarin'. You've got a point." His eyes unfocused, or maybe he was looking at his reflection in the window. His voice got softer. "I'm not lookin' forward to seein' Bronze again, especially like this. I, uh… think I'd better stop at Aunt Honeycrisp's before I head home. Maybe Ponyville, too." He flicked the ear with the blue stud still stuck in it. "Heh. Everypony back home'll be surprised when they see this thing." He looked me in the eyes. "I'm keepin' it, ya' know. I want a piece of you with me."

I flicked my ear back at him. "I'm keeping mine, too."

"I'll always be thinkin' of you, Soarin'." He turned his whole body towards me. "And I want you to promise me something."

I perked up. "Name it."

His lip stiffened. "It'll be tough facin' Bronze again, but I'm going to do it. I need to, for me, and I'm not the only one that needs to have a difficult conversation."

"Oh," I said flatly as my eyes fell to the carpet. "I can't talk to Mom, Braeburn."

"Yes, you can." He put on his mayor voice. "You will. It'll be good for you."

I drooped. "Nah, I should just let her live her life. She won't like it."

Braeburn furrowed his brows. "Soarin', I don't give a shit about her. I know moms. They have a conscience just like everypony else, and she'll listen." His tone softened a bit. He made another move to touch me, but he caught himself again. "It doesn't have to be now, Soarin', but please promise me you'll do it."

I looked into his eyes, the eyes of the stallion that I still loved, even if he wasn't my Applebutt.

Breaking his own rule, he set his hoof on mine. "Promise me, Soarin'."

And the bright confidence in his eyes flowed into me. "I promise, Braeburn."

"Thank you." He turned to face the window.

We sat again, and I squinted at the sunlight. Our breaths grew heavier, slowly at first, and they became deeper and more sporadic.

A minute or so later, Braeburn drew a sharp, quaking breath. "Dammit," he whimpered.

My wings hitched up, and my vision blurred. I knew what it meant. "Wh–" I couldn't finish.

Braeburn sniffed and wiped his eyes with a fetlock. "I, uh… I should probably get goin'." He looked all around, like he was dazed, and he kept trying to blink away tears. "Legs are gettin' weak, and I… don't think I can keep from bawlin' much longer."

I shook and whispered, "Yeah. Same." I turned to him. "You left your Whitewing book at–"

He held up a hoof. "I want you to have it. You get that noggin of yours in order and enjoy the story. It's a good one." His words were choked, and tears streamed down his face.

My whole body tensed, and I thought I would pass out. I wanted to thank him, but I was afraid that if I opened my mouth, I'd scream. Instead, I sat rigidly, squinting out the window at the sunrise again. I couldn't face him, even as the sunlight burned my eyes.

Next to me, Braeburn mumbled, "Actually, I 'spose…"

I felt pressure on the top of my head, and the sun wasn't so bright anymore. Tension drained from me as I thought back to the orchard where I'd first met him. He'd taken care of me when I was at my worst. He'd shown me kindness and given me chance after chance after chance to get it right. Braeburn had opened up my future for me, and even now, when neither of us felt like we had anything left to give, he was still taking care of me. Braeburn had put his hat on my head, and when I looked at him, jaw quivering, I had to blink away a few more tears to see him.

He shrugged and smiled. "You said you wanted that one, right?" I shuddered and sobbed, but Braeburn patted me on the chest. Between sobs of his own, he said, "You, uh… You take care of yourself, ya' hear? I lo–" He choked and wiped his eye again. "Aw, dammit."

I felt hollow as I leaned down and kissed away a tear. I didn't feel like enough, but it was all I could do. I sniffled and inhaled a shaky breath. My voice wouldn't go above a whisper. "I love you, Braeburn." I took shallow breaths. The dam was about to burst.

"Love you, too, Soarin'," he choked out. His kissed me softly on the nose. I still remember exactly how it felt.

W–

We…

…looked into each other's eyes one m-more time. I could see it–

F-fuck…

Okay. Okay.

I-I could see it… welling up in him, too. With one more whimper, Braeburn nodded at me and forced a smile. There was nothing left to say, so he quickly grabbed his suitcase and walked briskly to the door.

It… f…

Sorry. I'm sorry.

It was just like I'd imagined it, from the sound of his hooves to the sound of the suitcase rolling across the floor to the… to the way his mane bounced as he walked away. But it was real this time. It w–… It was real.

I stayed frozen in place, afraid to move. I wanted to hold out just one more moment, to be strong enough that he wouldn't see me break down. I didn't want it to hurt him. I wanted his… his last memory of me to be the same as mine, strong and beautiful and–

…

But each step away felt like another broken bone, another star burning out.

I thought to myself, 'Just count to five. Just hold out so he can get away. Just five more seconds.'

His… last gift to me was to leave quickly without looking back. The door clicked shut, and the room was quiet. I counted to myself, 'One. Two.' But I had to whisper to keep myself together. "Three. F-four… Five."

And just like that, any semblance of strength I had was gone, and I collapsed against the window, wailing and shaking as I realized that, one more time, the most important pony in my life had left me.

I was… so, so proud of him. And I still am. He'd done it. We both had. For both of us.

And I have never, ever cried so hard in my life.

Chapter 45 - Step One

* * * * *

In the deepening twilight, I see Soarin's forelegs shake as he clutches Braeburn's – well, his – hat to his chest. He struggles not to crush it, and his whole body looks like it's ready to collapse. His eyes are misty, and he keeps partially unfurling his wings like he wants to hide, only to fold them back in once he realizes what he's doing.

And despite his frailty, he looks up and smiles at me. Quietly, he says, "H-he stood up to me, Syn. He did it." His eyes search me.

My body feels open and loose. The cold, analytical buzzing inside my brain is conspicuously absent, and for now at least, good riddance. Without it, I can focus on the pony in front of me, a pegasus that was finally ready to relive one of the most painful moments of his life. Professional or not, I know what I need to do. With a smile, I hold out my forelegs and ask gently, "Would you like a hug?"

His smile widens, and there's a sudden brightness in his eyes that glints in the darkness. "Yes, please," he whispers.

I scoot over as he puts his hat back on. We hug tightly, very close together. His forelegs feel small, like a colt's, and they're still shaking. He relaxes slightly, and with a long breath, he stops trembling. I've made the right choice. I give him a squeeze – a sincere one, not one of those ultra-masculine, quick hugs that I hate so much – and after a moment, we let go. He wipes at his eyes with a fetlock and stifles a sob. "Thanks."

The stars have are coming out. My eyes feel heavy, and my hooves throb slightly. My butt is getting sore from sitting in this gazebo for so long. With a quick thrash of my tail, my head tilts back, and I mindfully prod my own emotions. It's been exhausting so far, but it must only be a fraction of what Soarin' is going through. It's an unbelievable amount to process, but he's taken the first step. He's talked through it, maybe for the first time with anypony, and I won't let him falter now.

I've got your back, Soarin'.

After a breath, I say, "He gave you his hat. You said earlier that it happened on the worst day of your life."

"Heh. No question." He wipes his eyes again. "Braeburn left me. It wasn't because of some random heart attack or a stupid fight." Soarin' thumps a hoof to his chest. "He left me. I'd failed him. And yeah, we left on good terms or whatever, but it still dug into me. He left because of me."

That's not all, though, Soarin'. I clear my throat. "But you let him go." Soarin' looks at me. "More than that, even. You helped him leave."

Soarin' turns away and grunts, his ears flat against his head. "It isn't as n-noble as it seems."

I cock me head at him. "But it wasn't just a loss, either. Like you and Braeburn said, you grew from it. You're different than when you two met, and that's good, right?"

There's a short silence. He draws a quick breath, the kind that's always accompanies a teary eye. His voice cracks. "Yeah, but it still hurt."

Metaphor, maybe? "Yes, but remember the feeling of growing pains during puberty? You pushed through it and became stronger."

With a snort, Soarin' says, "Ha! Dude, that's just stupid cheesy." His tone is still heavy, even if he's trying to mask it.

Dammit. I shrug. "But it's true, right? It wasn't like after you'd gotten cut from the Wonderbolts."

His shoulders sag. "Heh. Kick a guy while he's down, why don't you."

"Well, it wasn't. You didn't storm off or trash the hotel room. You said yourself that you wanted to keep it together for Braeburn, and I saw the Sunday show. Even if it hurt, you didn't stay in your room crying forever. At some point, you must have stood up."

Soarin' sits up and looks into the distance. The sun is gone now, and the cool nighttime has begun to penetrate to just under my coat. He takes a breath. "Yeah. I did."

* * * * *

My lungs burned almost too much to breathe, and I turned back towards the bed. My heart pounded, and like an addict, I told myself I needed one more smell of the sheets, but I stopped with one foreleg in the air, then I set it down. I felt like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

Supposedly, your brain's in charge of all your movements and everything you do, but I think you need your heart, too. I was paralyzed, staring at nothing, and I had to remind myself to breathe. The room was utterly still, and inside me was… nothing. For over ten minutes, I was as empty as the rest of the room, and I only finally moved because of the fear that was growing in my stomach. I looked around at everything that reminded me of him, and I said aloud, "I… shouldn't be alone right now."

And for once, I didn't have to be. Slowly, I took Braeburn's hat off my head, kissed the brim, and set it on the bed. I sniffled and trotted out of my room and two doors down. It felt… less mechanical than I thought it would have, and even though I still felt a hole in my chest, it filled up a little every time I thought about Braeburn being happy.

But I couldn't hold onto that thought for long without remembering that he was gone. My thoughts cycled on high-speed, and I nearly burned the rest of myself out in a matter of seconds.

I knocked on Streak's door and felt another whimper bubble up in me. Streak didn't answer, and after the obvious reason hit me, I rolled my wet, red eyes. "Dammit, Streak," I muttered through a sob. I moved over one room to try again. A few seconds after knocking, I heard utter silence on the opposite side of the door. I rested my forehead against it. "It's me, Spitz. Please open up."

I nearly fell forward when Spitfire opened the door. She didn't say anything until I looked up and saw her frowning. "Rough morning?" she asked gently. I nodded, and she opened it all the way. "Come on in."

I stepped inside. The room was warm and humid. The air was heavy with the smell of sweat, but it was different from Braeburn and me. It was spicier, an unmistakable mix of my two co-captains.

The layout was the same as our– my room, with the same bed and the bizarrely large chair. Streak sat up, a strained grimace on his face as he covered his middle with a pillow. "Uh, hey, bro," he said uneasily with an awkward wave. "It, uh… happened?"

I swallowed a lump in my throat. "Yes," I whispered, blinking a couple times.

His wings drooped at his sides. "Soarin', you can cry if you need to. It's okay." I hated that he felt bad for me, but I told myself that it was okay, that it was because he cared.

I shook my head. "Heh. Nah. I already got it all out o–" I choked. "O-out of m-my…" My legs shook, and I gasped. "Oh, fuck." It rose up and crashed into me like a wave. It started with a tingle in my hooves. My knees felt weak, and my backside dropped. I nearly puked. My throat felt dry and sealed shut. I wrenched my eyes closed, but they watered again. I gritted my teeth and gasped. "D-dammit!"

I felt Spitfire's wing on my back. She slowly guided me to the bed, where I hoisted myself up and sat between my friends, one foreleg around each of them. I buckled, sobbing into Streak's neck. Between ragged breaths, I kept saying, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." It was welling up from a deep part of me that I'd never felt before, and I wondered if it would ever run dry.

"Hey, it's alright, bro," Streak said. "Let it out. We're here. Shh…" He patted my back, and Spitfire gave me a reassuring squeeze of her wing.

"I love him so much. I love him so much!" I cried into Streak's neck some more. My bones felt like they'd gone soft. I went through everything all over again, replaying the Saturday show, our last date, and that morning, trying to deny it and then giving in and realizing it was real. It repeated over and over and over again.

But my family stuck with me. They supported me in every sense of the word for nearly an hour, listening to me talk about everything I loved about Braeburn and how much I wanted him to be happy and all my regrets and what that morning had been like. They listened to everything, until I was ready to sit up on my own. I felt insecure with them there, like I didn't deserve to have such supportive ponies in my life, and I still don't know what I did to deserve them as friends. Streak kept a hoof on mine while Spitfire kept her wing around me. Even if she felt a little tense, I appreciated it. I wiped my eyes and rasped, "Thanks, guys."

"Any time, Soarin'," Streak said. "Take it easy today."

A laugh rippled halfway up my chest and died in my throat. "Bro, I wouldn't even know how to relax right now."

He put a hoof on my shoulder. "Do what you need to do, Soarin'. I'll take care of the show, like we said. You can take the day off."

"I don't think he should," Spitfire said firmly, her tone just a shade more restrained than the one she took with new recruits. We turned to see her sitting up tall and with military precision. "I don't want you moping around all day. Wonderbolts don't let life get them down. It won't be good for you or the team, and I can't abide by that."

Fire Streak narrowed his eyebrows. "Spitfire, you seriously think he's good to fly?"

Spitfire glared back. "I know he has it in him to pull out one more show. Besides, it'll keep the media from asking questions. We don't want to have to deal with them, too."

I sighed. "She's right, Streak." I sat up halfway. "I need to be a fucking professional for once."

Streak softly said, "You sure? I… don't want this to turn into another…" He shuddered, a look of guilt flashing across his face. "I don't want to ignore the warning signs."

My heartbeat faltered, but I nodded. "Yeah, I'm sure. I promise my head's okay, Streak." I turned to Spitfire. "Put me in, captain."

Spitfire held her head high and smiled. "That's what I like to hear. Now don't let me catch you doubting yourself again, Windsong."

I saluted. "You won't, captain."

"Good."

We all shared reassuring nods, but after a pause, Streak tensed and raised an eyebrow. "Did… I just get cut from the show?"

We worked it out like this: I would take the lead, like we'd originally scheduled. Streak would take part of Spitfire's set so that he wouldn't get completely cut out, and if anypony on the team questioned what was going on, well, we were captains. We didn't answer to them, and I promised myself I'd come clean with them that week.

But that wasn't the only problem. Once we'd figured out the routine, Streak said, "I don't want to sound insensitive, but we haven't really talked about it yet: how do we handle the fallout? Word's going to slip eventually."

Spitfire furrowed her brows. "You're right. It will. Honestly, I don't think there's much we can–"

I cut her off. "Hell no. I won't let them chase down Braeburn." I raised my hackles as rage boiled up through me. It was a welcome change of pace. "It would hurt him. I'm not letting it happen."

Fire Streak leaned back a bit. "There… hasn't been much heat on us lately. Do we think it might slip by them?"

Spitfire shook her head. "Sooner or later, they'll have a slow news day, and somepony will notice. I doubt Bottom Line will be feeling charitable when it happens, so we'll need a contingency plan." She looked at me. "Got any favors you can pull, Soarin'?"

I tapped my hoof, and my breathing was shallow. My eyebrows knit as I stared at the floor. "I… I don't know." My shoulders collapsed in a little. My mind spun through a list of options.

Fire Streak shrugged. "Maybe we could quietly announce it the next time somepony makes a big scene? Most of the Summer Sun performers would kill for some extra exposure, especially once the hype from the festival wears off."

Spitfire raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, but scandals aren't really predictable. You can't actually count on celebrities to act the way you want."

It clicked, and I sneered.

Streak laughed a bit. "Right, or it wouldn't really be scandalous, would it? They don't– uh, bro? You okay?"

I groaned as my mind settled on the answer. "Sapph. Sapphire Shores."

After a pause, Spitfire rubbed her chin and looked up and to the side. "Mmm… Yeah, she seems unstable enough to make something happen sooner or later."

"No," I growled as I shook my head. My mind had solidified around an idea. "No. 'Sooner or later' isn't good enough. It needs to be right when the media figures out what happened to Braeburn, and I'm not going to chance it."

Streak understood what I meant, and he shuddered. "Ugh… Bro, please don't go crawling back to your ex."

I briefly looked up at him, the hot anger at the media overwhelming any sadness I was feeling. Or maybe it wasn't anger. Maybe instead it was the natural protectiveness I felt for Braeburn, a preemptive boost of confidence to scare off any doubts.

Spitfire sighed, "Soarin', even if you knew where she was staying, she's a civilian. It's not really appropriate to–"

But I was already flying out the door. Both of them yelled something after me, but I didn't care. 'It doesn't matter what she says. It's worth a shot.' It crossed my mind that my half-baked plan could backfire horribly and that Sapph could just as easily out us, but… well, I dunno. I think I just had more faith in her than that.

I didn't need to be told where Sapphire was staying. The Wonderbolts always give up the nice rooms when we perform alongside civilians. Heh. It's just courtesy, but sometimes, it works to our advantage.

The elevator to the rooftop suite was guarded, so in a huff, I flew to the center of the hotel and quickly spiraled down the staircase in one of the lanes they have marked specifically for flying pegasi. Without stopping, I soared through the lobby – I was too fast for anypony to snap a picture – and whipped around the building, smelling the city air and those glazed oranges in the vendor cart. The fresh air bolstered me as I rotated my wings back and flapped hard to get up to the Princess Suite at the very top of the building, faster than anypony could have been ready for.

Like I said before, Streak once told me that every good celebrity gets arrested sooner or later, and, well, I'd narrowly dodged it in Appleloosa when I'd been outside Braeburn's house. I figured it was worth pressing my luck.

"Sapph!" I screamed as I approached the giant balcony window, just before two security guards in black suits tackled me to the hard, marble tile of the balcony floor. To their credit, those guards were good. They had the wing cuffs on me in seconds, and I only got out a second "Sa–" before the other one had me muzzled. I squirmed and made their jobs as difficult as possible, hoping she'd heard me. I knew Sapph, I knew she knew my voice, and I knew she couldn't resist lording something over me. It was just a matter of whether she'd gone to bed after the show or stayed up all night partying.

And Sapphire Shores does not disappoint. "Oh, get off of him, colts," she shouted as the large, glass doors flew open. Sapph glowered and rubbed her eyes as she stumbled out into the morning light. She wore a blue silk robe that showed off her curves through the semi-transparent fabric. The smells of perfume and blueberry cosmopolitans spilled out into the air, heavier than the pollution of the city. "I wanna kick his ass off this balcony myself." The two guards shared a look, but Sapphire screamed, "You gonna make me repeat myself?!" Quickly, the guards leapt to their hooves and took positions on either side of the open doorway.

Sapphire was still sneering as she stumbled up and loomed over me. "This better be real good, Soarin'. You pulled me away from breakfast."

I glanced past her to see who "breakfast" was this time. A large, crimson earth pony stared back at me. His brown stubble, weathered mane, and large paunch looked completely out of place in the plush, gilded hotel room that he sat in. He was trying to hide under the covers, but I caught a glimpse of his cutie mark: a flashing camera. He was one of them. 'Figures,' I thought.

Sapph lightly kicked the muzzle. "I said sing, jailbird. Now!" Her lower lip was sticking out. My wings were fastened tightly in place, and I couldn't move my jaw to speak, but she didn't care. She liked this. Here I was, ready to beg her for something, and she held all the power. She could humiliate me or, if she wanted, probably get away with literal murder. I had more or less tried to break into her private room.

She knocked the other side of the muzzle. "I said talk! Unless you wanna end up playing 'Pass the Wonderbutt' in prison, hm?"

But I didn't struggle, and as I looked up at her, all I thought was, 'I don't care. I just have to protect Braeburn.'

I don't know what she saw for that split second, but suddenly, she stopped sneering. Sapph narrowed her eyes at me and then, after a beat, turned her head and raised an eyebrow. Jerking her head towards me, she muttered to her agents, "Oh, get those damn things off him. We're not animals."

The guards quickly swooped in and, like they'd done it a million times, had the restraints off of me in seconds. I coughed as they removed the muzzle, and as I stood up, I said, "Thanks, Sa–"

"The hell you doing, Soarin'?" Sapph jabbed me with a hoof, forcing me back a step and against the railing of the balcony. "What, that cow fucker finally get sick of you? 'Cuz you're not getting any from me!"

I looked down at the floor. "Not… quite."

"Well, then what? I don't have all day, Soarin'." She blinked hard and shook her head. "I'm starting to sober up, and you won't like me when I'm sober."

"We, uh…" I swallowed the lump in my throat. I knew what I was supposed to do, but the first couple times I tried, nothing came out. I looked down at the floor and crossed one foreleg in front of the other. It was such a simple sentence, but I was barely able to mumble, "We… broke up."

When I looked up, Sapph's fierceness had collapsed into quizzical evaluation. "Hmph." Her mane was frazzled, and even though she'd become more stable, she still winced at the sunlight. She was at least hungover, and she leaned on the side of the door. Her voice softened. "So what? You get bored with ponies all the time, and then you ditch 'em. It's your style. I don't get why this is such a big deal or, more importantly, what any of it has to do with me."

My heart felt heavy, and I sat down. A couple tears welled up, but I held it together. "It's not like that, Sapph. We… we broke it off. Together." I looked at her again, but she didn't say anything, and I realized that I was actually talking about it again. It seemed so impossible to admit what had happened, but once I had, I kept going. "We tried to make it work. Sapph, we tried, probably more than we should have, but he wasn't happy here. I didn't want him to leave, and I know he didn't want to, either, but…" Already, it felt like I was running around a well-worn racetrack. "We kind of agreed it was for the best. I love him too much to keep him here."

She didn't move. "Now how's that work?"

I quickly turned my head away. "I don't know! We thought we–"

"You had him, and you actually liked him enough to keep around, and then you just let him go?" She rolled her head around and mumbled, "Ponies think I'm crazy."

"Sapph, I–" I sucked in a big breath and let it out quickly. My eyes kept darting away, and I had to remind myself to focus on her. I forced myself to speak slowly. "Sapph, I don't want him to suffer. He's a good stallion." I choked up a bit. "He's good. Really… really good. He deserves to be happy, even if it isn't with me." I looked at her and blinked a couple tears away.

Her eyes had softened, and she leaned more solidly against the doorframe. She sighed and shook her head. "That little cow fucker really broke your heart, didn't he?"

"He's not a–" I chuckled, and thought, 'I mean, it'd be one lucky cow.' I pushed that image out of my mind and made eye contact again. "Yeah, he did, and he'll be happier this way. That's what matters."

There was a long pause. A cool, stiff breeze whipped my tail to the side, and I could feel Sapph's gaze on me. It was the kind of situation that would normally make me nervous, but… I guess, I didn't have anything else to hide. There was a lot of relief in being honest about everything and not having to anticipate another big crash, and I think she felt it, too.

"Huh." Sapphire paused, then slowly nodded. "So you finally decided to look past your own nose. Good for you." She took a moment to look out at the horizon, then her gaze settled back on me. "Aw, come inside before you get pneumonia." Her guards tensed, but she said, "And you two calm down before I make you kiss again." The guards looked at each other, blushed, and let me pass. One of them was trying not to smile.

I followed Sapph into her suite. It was as bright and decadent as any I'd ever seen, and that earth pony was still sitting awkwardly on the bed. Sapphire waved a hoof at him. "Shoo! We need that bed." The stallion quickly hopped off and practically galloped over to a pile of belongings: a saddle bag, some camera equipment, and a tripod. When he started picking them up, though, Sapphire shouted, "I didn't say leave!"

The earth pony froze in place. His voice was raspy and low. "Uh… I don't…"

"Just sit there, keep your mouth shut, and look pretty. I'll get back to you in a minute." Sapphire lay down on the bed and patted a spot next to her. I joined her. "Hooves to yourself, Soarin'. I'm not really feeling any group fun right now."

I stretched out my wings, trying to make myself look even the slightest bit comfortable. My voice came out low. "That's okay. I don't think I'd be up for it."

Sapph threw her head back. "Ha! Then he must've gotten you bad."

I shrugged, started remembering the good times, and smiled to myself. "Yeah, he–"

She held up a hoof. "Soarin', you don't actually think I care about all the romantic details, do you?"

I chuckled softly. "Heh. Nah. Sorry."

"Aw, you're good." Nestling into her spot like a bird, she continued, "But why the hell are you coming to me? If the tabloids have gotten anything right, you seem to have patched things up with the Wonderbolts, unless that's all a show, too."

"Nah, it's real. Streak and Spitfire are great, and everything's going pretty well with the team."

She leaned forward. "Oh, hey! Are they really dating?"

I grimaced. "I… can't say."

"Oooh, that's a YES!" she sang out, slapping the bed. "Wonder if those media idiots have figured it out yet." She turned to her stallion toy. "No offense. It's just that all of you are scum."

His eyes darted from side to side. "Uh… none taken?"

"Good colt." She narrowed her eyes and cooed, "And unless you've always dreamed of being a gelding, I wouldn't recommend spilling any of this to whatever rag it is you work for." She turned back to me and primped her mane. "So you two split. Now what?"

I cast a glance at the crimson pony. His eyes were wide, his legs were crossed, and he wasn't breathing. Despite who he worked for, I couldn't help but feel empathy for somepony who was seeing Sapph. 'I feel you, bro.' With another shrug, I said, "Well, he goes back home. And that's what I'm afraid of. It's going to follow him, and–"

"Hold that thought." She turned back to the crimson stallion. "Dammit, Hot Flash, chill the fuck out! I wouldn't do anything to wreck that fine body of yours." Hot Flash started to release a breath. "I'd do a hell of a lot worse, got it?" The stallion nodded, eyes wide. "Good." She clicked her tongue. "Leeches, all of 'em. I saw the nonsense they put you two through. Good drama, but disgusting all the same. Honestly, I'm surprised you were able to keep it up for as long as you did. Running from the media, trying to keep the spotlight away from him… That was all you, wasn't it?"

I nodded. "Braeburn just wants to live in peace. He doesn't want his town overrun with paparazzi. And… that's what I wanted to talk to you about. Sapph, I–"

"Ugh, I'm hungry." She looked all around.

I stifled a grunt and bit the inside of my cheek. 'Keep cool, Stormcloud. You knew what you were getting into.'

Sapph waved over a security guard, who peeked his head in. She shouted, "Hey! Make yourself useful and see what's taking breakfast so long."

"Yes, ma'am!" the guard responded. With a salute, he took off and dove down towards the base of the hotel.

I jerked my head at Hot Flash. He was doing his best to look bored, but both his ears were swiveled towards us. "I thought he was breakfast?"

"Soarin', a mare's gotta eat." She stretched her forelegs, and her robe slipped off her backside, giving the guard on the balcony an eyeful. "Now, you were about to beg me to save your coltfriend from his own fame."

I didn't bother hiding it. "Please, Sapph. Please. Equestria loves you. If anypony can take the heat off of him, it's you."

"Soarin', as much as I…" She casually rubbed the bed in front of her. Through gritted teeth, she growled, "…adore-ah seeing somepony else on the front pages…" She cleared her throat, "You're right that Equestria loves a diva. But wouldn't it be more fun to make a game of it?" She flicked a hoof towards Hot Flash. "I bet we could get Hot Flash to play. Right, sexy?"

He sat up nervously. "Uh, sure! Yeah!" A smile slowly spread across his face. "I've, uh… I haven't ever been with… you know."

Sapph batted her eyebrows at me. "I promise it'd be fun. I know you like gruff guys like that, you…" She belted out a line from one of her songs. "…floozy queen-ah!"

I frowned but laughed half-heartedly. "Sapph, I appreciate it, but I don't want any games. This isn't about me."

Sapph blew some air from her lips and rolled onto her back. Her robe fell away, revealing everything. "Aw, c'mon. I've missed you, baby. Why can't you throw me a bone?"

Admittedly, my heart skipped a beat, but I didn't want her. "Sapph, you're the hottest mare in Equestria, but I'm absolutely wrecked right now. Like, tequila wrecked." I shook my head. "Sorry. Braeburn's the only thing on my mind right now."

She whapped my hoof, and her expression flattened as she let out a long sigh. "You know, you were more fun back when we were dating."

"Yeah, I've gone soft. But Braeburn…" I closed my eyes and pictured him bucking apples and sweating and smiling back in Appleloosa. For just a moment, I could swear I smelled him. "He was worth it. I wouldn't trade what we had for all the parties in Manehattan."

The corners of her eyes drooped. "You really liked him, didn't you?"

I let myself look inside my heart, unafraid of what I'd find. "Heh. It's worse than that. I'll never stop loving him, Sapph. He's…" I put a hoof to my chest. "There won't ever be anypony like him."

"Hm," she grunted. For a moment, she stayed there, exposed and looking at me upside down. Her expression was frozen as she stared right through me. "He got you good, Soarin'. You're really lucky, you know that?"

I smiled, and my chest felt warm. "Yeah. I do."

There was a brief pause, and after she spent a few seconds running her tongue across her teeth and humming to herself, Sapph said, "Yeah." She rolled back onto her belly and rubbed her eyes. "Yeah, okay. I got you."

I snapped up. "Really?" I blinked a few times and shook my head. "Sapph, that's amazing! Thanks! I owe you."

"Damn right you do, and I'll collect on that someday." She stretched out and quickly tied her robe back on. "It'll be nice being the center of attention again, though. I'm sick of all this lovely dovey crap in the headlines."

My heart welled up. "This means a lot to me, Sapph." I felt something pull me forward. "Especially after everything else. Thank you. Thank you!" I couldn't remember the last time I'd thought of her as a friend. "Can I… give you a hu–"

"Hell, no."

I shrugged. "Eh, fair enough." I looked out the window. "Do you know what you're gonna do, though? It probably doesn't need to drop until the media finds out that Braeburn… left."

"Ha! Soarin', what do you take me for? I can be the biggest bitch this side of Canterlot if I want to be." She tossed her mane, and it landed messily at the side of her head. "It's fine. I know how this game works. I'll think of someth–"

There was a knock-knock at the door, which made Hot Flash jump. Sapphire motioned for him to open it, and he obeyed. A bellhop wheeled in a cart holding a giant golden plate with an artfully arranged pile of fragrant peaches, bananas, toasted nuts, and strawberries, all crowded around a massive golden chalice. It was big enough to fit a small pony inside, and it was filled with an absolute mountain of cardamom-scented whipped cream. The bellhop meekly said, "Ms. Shores? Breakfast is served."

There was a beat, and I swear I could feel the heat start radiating from Sapph. As I slowly turned my head to face her, I saw that she wore a terrifyingly wicked grin. "Oh, I bet I can think of something real good. And if you're sure you don't want to be involved…" I shook my head. "Ha! Yeah, I know. But don't worry, I've got this." She dragged herself over to the edge of the bed, dug a heavy-looking bag of bits from the bedside table, and tossed it to the bellhop. "You didn't see anything, got it?"

The bellhop's eyes were wide as he hefted the bag in his hooves. "No, Ms. Shores! T-thank you, Ms. Shores!" He quickly turned and left, closing the door behind him.

Hot Flash looked back at us. "Uh… Should I leave, too?"

"Oh, honey," Sapph lilted. She clicked her tongue three times and slowly shook her head, the front half of her body hanging off the edge of the bed. "Oh, poor, innocent baby. Naw, I've got big plans for us." Sapph faced me. "I'm feeling inspired, Soarin', and I think you'd better head out before I decide to get you involved, too." I knew better than to wait, and as I quickly stood up to leave, she said, "Take care of yourself, Soarin'."

I paused and smiled. "You, too, Sapph. And thanks."

The guards opened the doors for me, and I left without another word. Looking over my shoulder, I watched Sapph sashay up to a wide-eyed Hot Flash. She dipped her hoof into the cream and gave it a lick. In a lusty voice, she purred, "Grab that camera of yours, you sexy, sexy stallion." As the doors closed behind me, she gestured in a wide arc and sang, "And get ready – you're about to be FAAAAAAAMOUS-AH!"

…

…

They called it the "Whipped Cream Incident" – a series of erotic photographs that mysteriously leaked to a few publications seemingly out of nowhere, only a day after I broke my legs. Photos appeared all over the tabloids of Sapph in compromising positions, covered in whipped cream and fruit. She did everything in those photos, and as more were released to hold onto the media's attention, they got even racier. Some of them even had Hot Flash in them. She played it off masterfully, too. There was this whole storyline she played up about dating him, and for the most part, it worked. It kept the heat off the Wonderbolts and, more importantly, Braeburn.

But… that wasn't until later. It would be three weeks before she'd have to release them.

I flew back down to the ground, then inside the hotel and up to my room, my body feeling light and heavy at the same time. I immediately started crying again when I walked inside and saw that housekeeping had changed the sheets. Braeburn's hat was sitting neatly on the center of the bed, waiting for me, but there wouldn't be any last smells. I needed to collapse all over again, and when I did so back in Spitfire's room, my family was there to catch me.

But I flew in the show that day. It wasn't nearly as perfect as Saturday's had been, but I did it. And besides me and Spitfire and Streak, nopony realized that Braeburn was… gone. But I felt his absence. I felt it strongly enough for everypony in Equestria, but in order to protect him, and to keep myself sane, I couldn't just wallow in self-pity. I couldn't just shut down like I had every other time in my life when somepony had abandoned me. No, I had to pick myself up and move on.

It was time to keep flying.

* * * * *

Soarin' sighs into the cool night air. "And, well, you said you saw the show. How'd I do?"

I blink a few times. "You, uh…" I try to think back to the show. It was several months ago by now. "Honestly, I remember you performing very well, and I didn't notice anything off. I think that's probably the best you could hope for."

He smiles smugly. "Heh. Yeah. We're professionals."

I nod. "Absolutely. Streak did a fantastic job, too, I'm sure, but it's a bit hazy by this point. It must have been nice having both of them in the show with you."

"Oh, yeah. Totally. They made sure I was okay before and after the show, too. Spitfire even invited me to her parents' place for the Summer Sun holiday." Soarin's nose scrunches up. "It was a liiiiittle weird, since it was kinda sorta supposed to be all about her bringing Streak home for the first time, but I think Streak liked having me there. Less pressure."

He's… starting to fly through details. Does that mean… "We're not wrapping up, are we?"

Soarin' shrugs and yawns. "It's getting pretty late."

A cold panic grips the back of my neck. We can't be done yet. "There's still more to the story, though, right?"

"Heh. It's cool, dude. I'm just trying to be polite." He stretches out, and it appears his body is uncomfortable in all the same places as mine. As he adjusts his leg braces, he mumbles with a full mouth, "I don't know what kind of schedule you're on. Do you need to catch a balloon ride back down to the ground or anything?"

I shake my head. "I was planning on grabbing a hotel room. It's okay, though. I'd like to hear the rest, if you don't mind."

"Nah, I don't mind," he says as he finishes strapping himself into his braces. "I think." He raises an eyebrow.

That look means something. "What?"

He smiles. "Yeah, you're cool. And you're pretty good at hugs, too. This'll be fun."

What?

He stands up and stretches out his back. "Wanna stay for dinner?" Something seems– "We can take the long way back, and I can probably finish by then."

Just roll with it.

I shake out my mane and stand up. "That sounds lovely. I'd like to finish the story tonight, and…" For a second, I allow myself to stare at his legs. "I still need to hear about the accident."

Soarin' rolls his eyes and pats the hat down onto his head. "Heh. C'mon, Syn. You're smarter than that." He trots past me, back towards home, but something is wrong. My chest locks up as he says, "It wasn't an accident."

Chapter 46 - Family

* * * * *

We took the train home that evening. Everypony was in the same place as they had been on Friday. Same cars, same seats, and except for me, with the same companions. Spitfire and Fire Streak kept me distracted by talking about the team's performance, including who had shined and who'd been sloppy.

Sightseer had been a massive hit. Apparently, he'd done an impromptu fundraiser when some local filly scouts approached him after the Saturday show. He's a great flier and an even better ambassador for the team, and we all agreed he deserved a more permanent spot on the main squad. At least me breaking my legs was good for somepony. Sightseer's flying in my non-captain spot these days, next to Fire Streak, and he still sends his wife's taco dip over every couple weeks. I love that stuff, and I couldn't be happier for him.

Streak flew me home that night, but I didn't invite him in. I needed some time alone to grieve, and since the weekend shows were over and Sapph was ready to pounce with her pictures, I was… done. Braeburn and I had broken up, and we'd taken care of everything that had needed taking care of. I just had to keep flying forward.

As we stood on my doorstep, Streak asked me, "You're still coming to Spitfire's parents' place tomorrow, right?"

"I dunno," I sighed. "I'd be late. I've got my follow-up MRI tomorrow, and I don't know if I'll be up for it afterwards."

Streak blew a raspberry. "Bro, nopony's showing up until after lunch anyway. Just think of it as making a big entrance." When I sulked back at him, he frowned. "Don't do that do yourself, Soarin'." He cheered up and smacked my face with his wing. "And hey, if you need a reason to go, then do it for me. I'll need the support."

A laugh bubbled up. "Heh. Why? Stormy Flare likes you, and Deadlift's a big softie. You've met them after the shows a couple times, right?"

"Yeah. They're great, but it's still–"

"And Flare knows how hard it is being captain. She'll respect that."

Streak smiled and shook his head. "Context, dude. I'm not just a teammate anymore. I'm a coltfriend. It's a first impression all over again." He tried to cover up the little quiver in his voice by stretching his neck and back. "Plus, her whole family is going to be there."

I waved a hoof. "Eh, you'll be fine. Is she meeting your parents, too?"

Streak scratched at his face with a wingtip. "Yeah. We're stopping by their place for brunch, but just for an hour or two. Spitfire's not as worried as I am, though."

I smiled. "Yeah, she is. She'll be freaking out about being too stoic and off-putting. She just won't show it."

"You think so?" he asked. I nodded, and he said, "Yeah, I can see that. I wish I knew her as well as you do, bro."

I shrugged. "You'll get there. Hell, you've already slept with her, so you know more than almost every stallion in Equestria." I straightened up, and the idea of spending the day moderating Spitfire's family for Streak didn't sound like such a chore. "Yeah, I've got your back, bro."

He smiled. "I figured you did." Streak was a good captain like that. He knew what I needed – direction, purpose, and motivation – and he was providing it for me. We hoof-bumped, and he took off, leaving me to face my condo alone. I took a deep breath, opened the door, and walked in.

There… were a lot of tears. I took a walk around the condo, just to familiarize myself with everything all over again. It felt alien and grossly familiar, a lot like it had before I'd ever met Braeburn. His aura still radiated off of everything, though, like a dull glow that I just barely couldn't see. Everything reminded me of him, and as I walked around, I struggled to keep all the memories I had of him at the forefront of my mind. I was afraid I'd lose them, so I ended up tearing up little pieces of paper and making notes around the house. They were filled with little moments or funny or sweet things he'd said, and even though my hoofwriting was shaky and I was too stressed out to spell much correctly, it was therapeutic once I got into the flow of it. It took a load off my mind knowing that I still had all these memories of our time together. It helped solidify that what we'd had was real and had been worth all the pain. I'm glad I wrote so much down, even if it took me until past midnight to finish the whole ritual.

Even then, though, I didn't want to sleep. I was exhausted, but, well… Braeburn had been my coltfriend that morning, and as torturous as it had been, I was afraid to let the day end. I kept wandering around the house and doing menial tasks, from some random laundry – and no, I wasn't ready to wash the bedsheets – to cleaning the bathroom to planning my meals for the week. A few times, my hoof hovered over "Whitewing's Big Score," but I always stopped. I didn't know if I was focused enough to keep reading it, but more than that, I didn't want to… I dunno, use up the rest of the story. It was a gift from Braeburn, and if I read it all, then, well, it would be one less thing I could turn to. Feeling a heaviness in my chest, I finally whispered with a scratchy, tired voice, "I'll… wait until I really need it."

I did have one thing I could do, though. While I'd been planning my meals, I saw that Braeburn had restocked everything before he'd left. It was just one more little gift he'd left me. I took the pink box of recipes that he'd given me out of the cupboard to make his special Two-Apple Twirl pie. It wasn't as good as the original, but it was passable. I didn't let it cool off enough, but that sweet cinnamon warmth brought me back to our first meeting, and it calmed me enough to finally go to bed just before 4 AM.

Even smelling a little bit of Braeburn on my pillow case – which brought on a whole new set of tears – I probably only got an hour or two of solid sleep. I was lucky that my appointment was in the midday, since it gave me time for plenty of coffee, a warmup flight, and a few failed attempts at a nap. I would have gone to the Academy for a workout or something, but we always get the Monday after the Summer Sun Celebration off to compensate for the working weekend, and the Wonderbolts' official policy is to make us take our vacation except under extreme circumstances.

It's always rough when you have to relax. Your brain gets caught up in how it's not vacationing properly or something, and you just end up watching the time tick by while you wait for anything to happen. In between the ticks of the clock, I felt the world pull down on me, with every muscle telling me to just give up for the day even though I knew my heart wouldn't let me sleep.

As tired as I was, though, I dragged myself to Dr. Radiant Hope's office for my MRI. The secretary saw the state I was in and didn't ask me to do anything except fill out some basic paperwork – which was a whole ordeal itself – and I was able to get to the MRI machine without any problems. Even though I wasn't supposed to fall asleep, I asked for the sedative again. The numbness was very, very welcome. It spread from where they stuck me in the flanks to the rest of me, and for a few minutes, at least I didn't feel like my body was at war with itself. The loud noise from the machine kept me mostly awake, but I did nod off a couple times.

The sedative had mostly worn off by the time I walked into Hope's office several minutes later. Hope was wearing a smart-looking brown jacket with patches at the elbows, and he wore chic, brown-rimmed glasses to match. He furrowed his eyebrows as he stood to greet me and shake my hoof. "Good to see you again, Soarin'. Will Braeburn be joining us today?"

I felt a sharp jab in my chest, but I swallowed it and looked up. "Uh, n-no. Just me today." I sat down in one of the two chairs. The other remained empty.

He chuckled to himself. "Well, I hope he's getting some good rest. I wasn't able to make it to Baltimare myself, but I imagine you were all very busy what with the festivities." He adjusted his glasses as he sat down. His face became stiffer but retained its warmth. "I do hope you'll get some more sleep, though. It's good for the healing process, and you look like you've been partying all weekend."

My chest felt like it was unhinging itself from my body. 'Well, dammit. No use dodging it.' I shook my head. "No. I'm… not partying much these days. Braeburn and I, uh… We…" I deflated. It never got easier. "We broke up."

I looked up in time to see Hope raise a hoof to his mouth and gasp. His eyes widened, and his cheeks flushed against his light pink coat. "Oh my– I'm… I'm terribly sorry, Soarin'. That was very insensitive of–" He looked to the side and adjusted his collar. "I had assumed that– Oh, I'm so sorry." He looked at me, hoof to his chin and biting his lower lip, before he brought a planner out of his desk. "Your MRI conflicted with your appointment with Souly today, correct? I can schedule an appointment with him – excuse me, sorry, that's Doctor Gentle Soul, not Souly, excuse me – I can schedule a session with him for you later this week if you'd like." He quickly flipped through several pages. "He has a few openings on Wednesday, I think."

It brought me ease seeing somepony so professional get so shaken. It made it feel like what I was going through was a real problem, like it wasn't just inside my head, and just acknowledging it made the tension in my neck melt away. I smiled. "Heh. Whaaaat, afraid to do the heavy lifting yourself? I'm not that crazy."

Radiant Hope grimaced. "My husband is…" He twirled a hoof, searching for the right term. "…better attuned to situations like this." He laughed stiffly. "I'm afraid I'm terribly ill-equipped when it comes to interpersonal matters. I'm just the brain pony. He's the heart of the operation."

I shrugged. "Well, you're making me feel better, so don't sell yourself short."

He relaxed slightly. "Thank you. I appreciate you saying so." He flipped back to his planner. "Should I schedule something? I can send a note and get you a confirmation in a matter of minutes."

I shook my head. "Nah, I'll see him next week at the usual time." My imagination flashed forward a week. "Just, do me a favor, please? Tell him for me. About me and Braeburn. It's… hard enough admitting it once."

Doctor Hope regained his composure and nodded. "Of course. I'd be… I'll certainly do it." He put away his planner and picked up the folder with my MRI results. "I do have some good news, at least. It's been a very good month for your brain." I shook my head slightly, remembering everything that had happened in the six weeks or so that Braeburn had lived with me. It had seemed so long and so brief at the same time. "The swelling has decreased, and there are early signs of structural repair. It's still a long road, but you're absolutely moving in the right direction, and Doctor Soul tells me your comprehension is improving. Do you have any questions or specific concerns so far?"

I smirked. "Yeah. Kind of a big one."

Hope frowned and leaned forward. "Oh dear. What is it?"

I shrugged. "I mean, do you know a good cardiologist?"

He tensed and ripped his glasses off his face. "What? Soarin', did something–" His shock quickly melted into another bright blush, and he covered his face and mumbled, "Ah. Right. Broken heart. I get it." We shared a small chuckle, and he put his glasses back on, adjusted his shoulders inside his jacket, and went back to reviewing my results.

We went over some the finer details of what was happening in my skull, including taking a look at the new images. They looked less scary this time, but I still wished I had an earth pony's hoof to hold. Eventually, Hope put the folder back into the drawer. "I'll mail you the full diagnosis by Wednesday." He put two hooves on his oaken desk. "In the meantime…" He sighed and glanced at the picture on his desk, the one from his wedding day. "Be kind to yourself, Soarin'. I can only imagine what you're going through, but I truly wish you the best."

I smiled. "You, too, doc. And give your husband an extra hug tonight."

He smiled back, despite the heaviness in his eyes, and quickly waved his planner in the air. "I've already made a note to." We said our goodbyes, and as I shut the door to his office behind me, I saw him pick up the picture, run his hoof along the glass, and give it a kiss.

I checked out with the secretary and began the flight across Cloudsdale. There wasn't hardly anypony flying around, since for the civilians, it was a normal day. The sunshine helped me wake up some more, but my wings still felt heavy, like I was flying through a rainstorm, and the thought of going home to an empty condo crept into the edges of my mind. I closed my eyes and glided on a warm thermal. "One day at a time, Stormcloud. Your family's waiting for you. You don't have to be alone today." The pep talk didn't make me feel any better, but at least it cut through the silence long enough to get me to the southern district. I knew the rest of the way like the back of my hoof.

Spitfire's dad, Deadlift, opened the door for me. He's a muscular, orange earth pony with a white and silver mane and a broad, welcoming smile. Real square jaw, too. He used to be a trainer for the Wonderbolts, which is where he met Spitfire's mom, Stormy Flare. "Soarin'! Long time no see! Come on in!" He gave me a slap on the back and shuffled me forcefully inside. "Finally decided to stop by again, huh?"

I faked a smile and said, "Eh, you couldn't keep me away forever."

"Well, we're happy to have you back. The family's grown since your last visit. You remember everypony, right?"

He brought me into a large three-season room with a high ceiling and giant, glass windows. It was spacious and decorated with some tasteful furniture and not-so-tasteful Wonderbolts memorabilia from his and Stormy Flare's time in the 'Bolts. Plus, there was an entire wall dedicated to family photos, including the infamous picture of the day Spitfire got her call sign, buuuut you'll have to ask somepony else if you want to hear the full story. I'd never embarrass her like that. Heh heh.

The three-season was almost at capacity, and Deadlift reintroduced me to everypony. Flame Rift, Spitfire's older brother, had the same coloration as Spitfire except for his piercing blue eyes. Flame Rift's wife, Mauve Rhapsody, held onto a baby foal named Melody Spring, while Fire Streak was trying to keep the attention of their oldest, Purple Lightning. Spitfire's younger brother, Curl Bar, took after Deadlift, but he listlessly ignored me to talk to his marefriend on the couch. I exchanged a few quick greetings with all of them, and I briefly said hello to Stormy Flare, who was preparing some kind of toast point appetizer in the kitchen. It felt strange being there again, since I hadn't seen them all since, well… since the last time I'd needed somepony to be with, back when Dad had died. I hadn't had any direction in my life, and Spitfire…

I hope you never think badly of Spitfire. She can be pretty tough, but she cares. She cares more than anypony else in the organization, and not just about the performance. She cares deeply about her teammates, and she wants all of us to do our absolute best, even if it means being standoffish. But she'll make sure you're okay if you're in trouble, and just like last time, she knew I needed to not feel alone.

Streak looked up at me from the floor with pleading eyes while the lavender-colored pegasus colt ran circles around him. He mouthed, "Help?" and grimaced.

I walked over to them and leaned down to the foal. "Hey, big guy! What's your name?"

"Puh-puh Linging!" he shouted, wing buzzing ineffectively.

"Puh-puh Linging, huh?" I laughed. "Sounds like somepony who's gonna be a great flier someday! Wanna practice?"

His eyes lit up, and he bounced up and down. "Yeah yeah yeah! Uh, please! Yeah!"

"Then get ready for take-off!" I quickly rolled onto my back, picked him up, and started darting and dipping him back and forth. He giggled as I bounced him around and made noises like, "Nyeer! Nyeer!" The whole time, I was thinking, 'Please don't throw up on me,' but it really was fun making him laugh. I think… that's what Braeburn had seen in me with Scootaloo, too, and whenever I was able to make a foal smile, I felt a little closer to my Dad.

Streak took a deep breath as Spitfire came up and nudged him. "Careful, or Soarin's going to be the cool uncle instead of you." She kissed him on the cheek. "I hope you're taking notes."

Before he could respond, Stormy Flare walked in with a tray of toast points and a hummus spread. "So he's going to be an uncle, is he? I didn't realize you two were already engaged." Stormy Flare reminded me of Mom, at least physically. She was thin and stood tall, and she dressed very well. The light blue jacket and creamy-white cravat blended well with her yellow coat and the orange mane, which had just a little more red in it than Spitfire's. She walked with grace and confidence, like nothing could get in her way, and… and I decided to stop comparing her to Mom too much. She was too nice for that. Or, if not nice, than loving in her own way. "Or did you elope behind our backs?" She shot a mostly-joking glare at Fire Streak. "Celestia help you if she's pregnant, Streak. Deadlift's not above a shotgun wedding."

"Shotgun's only if you're lucky," Deadlift said, gently rocking his granddaughter Melody Spring in his foreleg. He kissed her forehead. "I can have a guillotine here in half an hour."

Flare set the snack tray down, stifling a laugh. "You see, Streak, we're a very responsible family."

Streak went pale, even for him. His ears flattened against his head, but Spitfire just squeezed him with a wing and smirked. "You're one to talk, Mom." She turned to Deadlift. "Hey daddy: how many dates before you proposed to her?"

Deadlift walked over to me and picked up Purple Lightning, putting him on his back with a kiss. I was impressed he was able to handle both his grandchildren so deftly, but he was practically sweating grandfatherly pride, and the foals didn't fuss. "Just one, but I was mostly kidding. It wasn't even that romantic – it was just a candy ring."

Stormy Flare smiled. "You say that, but deep down, you knew you were stuck with me." She walked up to Deadlift and nuzzled Purple Lightning.

Deadlift grimaced, dreamy-eyed. "Ha. Well, I'm good at making snap decisions." They nuzzled each other briefly. "I'd say I made the right choice."

Purple Lightning started bouncing on his back. "Ride! Ride!"

Deadlift gave a guttural laugh. "Haha! Okay, champ! Here we go!" He passed Melody over to her mother and mock-ran around the room and into the yard out back.

And yes, it's a yard, even if there's no grass or trees. I don't get why earth ponies get so hung up on that…

The adults all chatted for a couple hours about work and recreation and maintaining a house, and mercifully, Braeburn didn't come up. Not that there weren't a few awkward pauses as a few of them danced around it, of course. I silently wondered how much Spitfire had told them. Once my mind went down that path, though, I felt the hollowness come back to my chest. The love and support of all those ponies couldn't warm the cold feeling deep inside me. When there was a break in the conversation, I said, "Excuse me for just a sec." I quickly stood and walked to a quiet part of the house.

Streak came up behind me, and we ducked into a bedroom. "What's up, bro?"

I looked into a large dresser mirror and shook my head. "Just… thinking about him. I'm trying not to, but–" I swallowed suddenly. My vision blurred slightly as I sucked in a breath and let it out in one big heave.

Streak wrapped a foreleg around me and brought me in for a hug. "I'm giving you ten seconds to be sad, and then you'll be okay. Ready? Ten…" He hugged me close and counted down aloud, and as he did, I felt the churning feelings subside. I knew they'd be back, but the storm was calmed for that moment. "Two… One." He squeezed again, then let go to let me breathe. "You good?"

I sighed again and dried my eyes. "Yeah. I'm good. Thanks."

Crisis averted, we grabbed a few board games from the hallway. Luckily, Spitfire's family has pretty good taste in games, and we played for a few hours until Stormy Flare and Curl Bar started to prep dinner. When a quiet moment threatened to make me spiral out of control again, I spoke up and said, "You guys need any help?"

Spitfire smirked. "No way, Soarin'. I've had your food before."

"It's fine. I've–" I was about to say that I'd had practice, but the words caught in my throat when I remembered who'd been teaching me. I blinked a few times and thought to myself, 'Steady.' I shrugged and waved a dismissive hoof. "Eh, if you want me to be lazy, that's fine by me." My voice was wooden, and they all could tell.

Stormy Flare cut the awkwardness off before it could grow too much. "Thanks, but we'll be okay, Soarin'. You three had a big weekend. You deserve some time off."

Deadlift set Purple Lightning down for moment, but the colt immediately clung to Spitfire. Deadlift said, "She's right. Besides, Flare and Curl will have their hooves full keeping me out of the desserts anyway. Why don't you all just go relax with some fresh air?" He jerked his head towards the back door. "I've got some real good beers out in the cooler on the porch. Show 'em around, Rift, yeah?"

Rift looked back at Mauve, but she said, "It's okay, hon. Grandpa and I have the kids, and it won't be long, anyway. You go have sibling bonding time."

Rift kissed her. "Thanks, Mauve. You want to come with, Curly?"

"I'm good here," he said politely but dismissively, pulling some aluminum foil from the drawer.

Rift rolled his eyes and turned to me and Streak. "Guess it's just us." He spoke up at Spitfire, who was tickling Purple Lightning. "See you out back, sis?"

Spitfire responded without taking any attention from her nephew, who was laughing like a maniac. "Yeah. I'll be out in a sec."

"Okay. See you there." As we exited through the back, Rift whispered to us, "I snuck some craft stuff into the cooler when Dad wasn't looking, so you don't have to drink any more of that swill he likes."

Streak and I both sighed in relief as we stepped outside. I snickered and turned to him. "Sooooo, Lift made you drink some of that Hoors Lite crap?"

Streak stuck out his tongue. "Blech. Three of 'em."

I wrinkled my nose as Rift dug a few high-quality amber ales from the back of the cooler. "Dude! Why?"

We sat on some patio chairs looking out at the early evening sunlight. "It's not like I could refuse! Dude could snap me in half. Plus, you know, I don't want my marefriend's dad to think I'm a wuss."

Rift came over and passed us the beers, opening them with a fancy bottle opener shaped like an anchor. "You're fine, Streak. You're doing a lot better than any of the other ones, at least. Heck, Dad's probably already thinking about what the grandkids would look like. Haha." He took a long pull of his beer. "Yeah, there we go." He wiped his mouth and looked back at Streak.

Streak snickered. "If that's all it takes to get on his good side, then maybe the shotgun wedding isn't such a bad idea.

"Ha! That might be pushing it. Mom appreciates you humoring him, though. He misses his old drinking buddies from before he retired, and this is as close as he gets." He raised his bottle. "And you took it like a champ."

Streak took a drink, then drew the cold bottle across his forehead. "Ah… See, though? Your mom's already evaluating me, and she won't miss a thing if I slip up."

I chuckled. "Uh, yeah? Where do you think Spitz gets it from?" I took a swig, and as soon as the beer hit my mouth, I nearly spit it back in the bottle. 'Shit, what am I doing? Braeburn might–' My expression collapsed. 'Oh. Right.' I swallowed the beer hard. Even though it tasted pretty great, it went down like a jagged rock.

"Chill, Streak," Rift said. "Mom and Dad like you, and so do I. And even if we didn't, Spitz does, and that's what matters." He playfully reached a wing over and batted him with a few feathers. "It's just some razzing. You'll survive as long as Spitz doesn't get under your skin too much."

I was only half paying attention by then. I remembered all the different restaurants I'd been to with Braeburn and how I'd always tried to get a rise out of him. Even when I'd tried to be annoying and foalish, Braeburn had gone along with it and even been playfully stupid with me. I suddenly felt very, very old.

"Ears are burning, Riffer," Spitfire said as she walked around the corner and onto the patio, amber ale in hoof. "Thanks for the red, by the way." She trotted up to Streak and kissed his ear before sitting next to him. "And he's right. I like you, and that's what matters."

His ear. I missed nibbling on Braeburn's ear and how, even if it kind of tickled him, he'd press towards me for more. I missed how he'd shiver with pleasure and nestle up against me sometimes. He was always eager to touch me and share his warmth. My fur bristled against an imagined cold.

Rift shook his head. "It's still weird seeing my little sister kiss somepony."

Spitfire laughed. "Aw, get over it, Riffer. We had to reconcile with you having sex with somepony." She lifted the bottle to her lips. "Twice."

I missed sex with Braeburn. He was the best partner I'd ever had, and I couldn't remember a time when I'd been unsatisfied. It had been more than physical pleasure, though. It had satisfied me somewhere deep down, someplace that only he'd ever been able to find. I stared down at my bottle of beer, then drank nearly half of it in one go. I think I was eager to make it as empty as me.

Rift shrugged. "Eh, fair. Heads-up: Mom and Dad get super weird about foals once you get married, and they aren't particularly subtle. I wouldn't be surprised if they sneak an aphrodisiac into your dessert one day."

I had to fight a frown. 'Braeburn said I'd be good with foals. We could have had foals. Would we have adopted? Gotten a surrogate?' My head spun with small ponies that looked like a mix of the two of us. 'Who would the biological father have been? Maybe one each?'

"Nah, I'm a career mare. Mom'll be cool about it." She saw Streak staring wide-eyed. "So you can relax, Hottie. You don't need to think about changing diapers yet."

"Hm?" Streak snapped to. "Sorry. I'm just trying to figure out if I've pissed Curl Bar off."

Rift mumbled, "There's a lost cause," and took a swig. "He's a good guy, but don't bother trying to be nice. That's just how he is."

I broke out of my thoughts when I remembered I'd promised to help Streak out. "Uh, yeah. Don't sweat it, bro. I got the same treatment."

Rift snickered. "Yeah. Dad's the only one you have to worry about, and as long as you and Spitfire don't break up and get all dramatic, you'll– What?" I caught Spitfire glaring at Rift. "Wha– Oh! Oh, shit. Sorry, Soarin'." His wings flattened out, and he looked away. "Sorry. Spitfire asked us not to bring it up."

'I knew it.' I held up a hoof. "You're fine, Rift. Honestly, my head was already there, anyway."

"Well, I'm sorry anyway. You're a great guy, and hey, you're famous! You'll find somepony else pretty soon." He was genuinely trying to help, I think, but I could feel the heat coming from Spitfire.

I thought to myself, 'I don't want somepony else. I want my Applebutt.'

Rift drained the rest of his beer. "I better check on the foals again before Dad loads them up with sugar."

Spitfire laughed. "Riffer, it's been like five minutes! You don't have to spaz."

He wrinkled his nose. "It's called good parenting."

"Or just being clingy," Spitfire said with a chuckle.

"Well, I'm still learning." He turned to Streak and me. "Nice talking to you guys again. Don't wait for another bad day to hit me up, okay? I think we could all use more guys' nights." We said we'd be in touch, and he walked back into the house.

Spitfire looked at me, about to ask something. I shook my head as subtly as I could – I didn't want to get into my feelings again – so she turned to Streak instead. "You doing okay?"

Streak sighed. "Yeah, I'm good. Your family's awesome, and it is kinda nice to have a break. How you doing, Soarin'?"

Spitfire rolled her eyes, and I thought, 'Maybe he'll learn to be as observant as her someday.'

I thought about where I was: enjoying a successful holiday with the ponies I called my family. By most measures, life was good, and I wasn't just sulking home alone without anypony to talk to, so at least I was dodging the worst of it. In a lot of ways, it made me miss my old family. I kept thinking back to that last Hearth's Warming together, and that made me think about Mom again, too. Of course, I wondered how Braeburn and I would have been celebrating if he'd stayed, but even though I naturally imagined some idealized fantasy, I remembered what the reality had been when he'd lived with me. 'It would be worse for him here. He'll be better back home.' Even with all that on my mind, I looked back to Spitfire and Fire Streak, their eyes full of concern for me, and I was able to say sincerely, "I think I'll be okay."

We clinked our bottles together, a toast to being okay, and we talked about nothing until it was time for dinner. Stormy Flare and Curl Bar had prepared a relatively simple meal of lasagna, salad, and rolls, but it hit the spot. The adults talked, the foals fussed, and we were together. It had been a long, long time since I'd felt something like that. The closest I'd gotten was occasionally getting trashed with the stallion squad and going to a late-night buffet after a show, but this felt different. It felt… richer, somehow. It made me want to come back once the pain in my heart had healed. Or maybe this was how I could heal it. I don't know. It still hurt all over, but it sucked less than it could have, and what more can you really ask for in a family?

After dinner, Spitfire's parents helped Rift and Mauve give the foals a bath, and Curl Bar took the opportunity to duck out with his marefriend in the hustle. Spitfire asked Streak to help put the extra chairs and patio furniture away, partly so they could get some time alone, I think. With everypony else busy doing other chores, I was left with, well…

Doing so many dishes was kind of therapeutic, actually, and it brought me back to a simpler time, when I'd been talking to Big Mac at Honeycrisp's farm before all the trouble began. It felt like I was doing something instead of being stuck, and the rhythmic swirls and scrubs of the rags and sponges on the plates became hypnotic. It distracted me from what was going on inside, like somepony reading you a book when you're stuck in bed, and when that wasn't enough, I could look out the window and see my two best friends cuddling as the sun hung low in the sky.

At another time in my life, I would have been jealous of them, and even though seeing them cuddled up against each other prodded at a raw, vulnerable part of me, my heart stirred when I thought about how happy they were going to be together. I smiled and thought, 'Thanks for being my friends, guys. I love you both.'

Stormy Flare walked into the kitchen when I was about two-thirds done. "So you're doing dishes like a grown-up now," she half-asked. "I'm impressed you aren't just rinsing them and calling it good."

I scrubbed at a casserole dish. "Heh, yeah. Weird world, right?" I scratched at stuck-on piece of cheese, then rubbed the last bits of residue. "Braeburn's, uh…" I sighed. I couldn't resist talking about him, could I? "Braeburn's cousin Big Mac taught me how."

She smiled, rolled up her sleeves, and began drying dishes. "Funny what kinds of things stick with you, right?"

"Totally. Speaking of which–" I held up a heavy, black frying pan. "What's the deal with these? Big Mac didn't wash it. He just rubbed a bunch of salt on it and rinsed it off."

She didn't laugh at me or make a joke. Her tone was just… motherly. It reminded me of how Dad always sounded when I'd asked him about things as a colt. "That's a cast-iron skillet. It's porous, so if you wash it normally, all your food will taste like soap. That's why you scrub it with salt instead. It's called 'seasoning' it."

I set it on the counter and dug a box of salt out of one of the cabinets. "Seems like a lot of work." I poured a big pile of salt in, added some water, and started scrubbing.

"Most good things are." She set a dry plate in a cabinet with the others. "I'm surprised Braeburn never got around to teaching you."

I paused, shivered, and then kept going. "Heh. We're going there, are we?"

Her tone dropped a few notches, but she didn't stop drying. "Soarin', I'll be honest with you: you're hurting. I can see it. I've talked my kids through a lot of breakups, and I know you don't have the benefit of somepony to talk frankly about it with. I'd like to give you the chance."

Looking down into the dirty water, my hooves hung limply over the edge of the sink. "Do ponies still tell you how direct you can get?"

She chuckled. "Mm-hm. I've never taken crap from another Wonderbolt, Soarin', and I don't intend to start now." Her tone lightened. "Besides, Spitfire doesn't get to tell me what I can and can't talk about. My reputation's on the line, Soarin'. I wouldn't want my kids thinking I've gone soft."

I shrugged. "Eh, Braeburn would have gotten around to teaching me eventually." I looked at Flare. "Sorry, I… still feel weird just talking about this."

She smirked. "How's the weather? What's practice like these days? Read any good books lately? How about that Summer Sun Cele–"

"Okay, I get it!" I said, splashing a tiny bit of water towards her.

She shielded herself with the towel. "Careful, Soarin'. I used to towel-whip my fliers when they didn't do well enough. I've got a mean snapback."

I narrowed my eyes and smirked. "I'll let you off easy, but only because you're a great cook."

"That's a lie, but thanks." She dried another plate. "It's not that I like torturing you, Soarin', but you've been dodging talking about Braeburn all day, unless you were just rummaging through my drawers in my room earlier."

I rolled my eyes.

She casually rubbed the plate clockwise. "Just rip the bandage off and get it over with. You don't want to keep fighting it forever, do you?"

My mind flashed with thoughts of going home every night for a month and still making no progress. "No. I appreciate Spitfire telling you guys to be nice, though." I cocked an eyebrow. "…which seems kinda weird now that I think about it. She's the one that convinced me to fly yesterday."

Flare looked out the window. "Yeah, I think Fire Streak is going to be a good balancing force for her."

"Heh. Shoulda guessed." I kept scrubbing the skillet. It was a lot of work.

Flare shook her head. "I hope they stick it out. I'd hoped the same for you and Braeburn, too, but you have a thing for chasing ponies away, don't you?"

I laughed to cover the cut she'd made in my chest. "Ha. Haha! Well, at least I don't have anypony left to lose." My jaw tightened. The truth of that statement nearly made me retch, so I paused my scrubbing and looked at her. "You're really lucky that your family stuck together."

"I know I am. I'm thankful every day for it." She leaned on the counter. "And I meant what I said after Skywise passed, Soarin'. You can join us any time. It doesn't just have to be after a loss, and we'd love to have you over more."

"Heh. Rift said the same thing."

"He has a pretty good mother."

I sighed. "I wish I could say the same for myself."

She paused. Her mouth hung open for a bit before she said, "Yeah. You weren't as lucky as us." She stood up and looked out at her daughter and maybe-someday-son-in-law. Streak had a wing around Spitfire. "Do you keep in touch with her?"

I frowned and shook my head. "I sent her an invitation to Dad's funeral, but she didn't want to come. I… never responded after that. I don't know, I–" I let out a growly breath. "I don't know. I didn't really want to say anything to her."

She started drying again. "And now?"

I shook out a fetlock. The pan still hadn't come clean, and it was driving me nuts, but I still spoke softly. "Now I do. Maybe I always did." I thought back to Dad's funeral and the last time I'd visited Spitfire's family. Even though thinking about Mom hurt, it was a different pain than missing Braeburn, which was its own odd form of relief. "I couldn't… put it to words before. But now it's like, I'm angry at her for not teaching me better, you know? How the f–… How was I supposed to know what a good relationship needs? Nopony ever showed me. It’s not her fault Braeburn's gone, but…" I felt myself sealing up again. "I don't know."

But Flare was as encouraging as ever. "No, no. Keep going."

My pulse was quickening, and I started talking faster. "I want to know what happened, right? Like, I think I'm okay with her living a different life, at least in the abstract, but she made Dad sad, and that… that took a part of me away with her. She's supposed to know me and Dad better than anypony, right? And I still don't even get why they split up! Dad wouldn't talk about it, and she must have had a reason, right?" I was scrubbing harder and harder on the pan, determined to finally get it clean. "And didn't she care how much she was hurting me? I'm her freaking son! Her son! And it feels like I don't matter to her at all. But I can't just freaking say all that to her. She's not really my mom. She decided she didn't want to be. She doesn't owe me anything. She's not my mom."

Flare gave me a moment to make sure I was done. "Well, I'm not either, and you said all of that to me."

I shivered with a small, sad laugh. "Heh. You've got less baggage."

"Oh, I've got plenty. You just haven't asked my daughter the right questions." She examined a glass I'd cleaned earlier. "Missed a spot. I'll get it."

"Sorry. I'm just…" I gave the pan one more rough scrub, putting all my weight behind it. "With Braeburn gone, what do I have left? I thought he was my future, and, I guess…" The pan reflected my face in its black sheen. The bags under my eyes seemed deeper every time I looked. "It'd be nice to at least get my past figured out. Then I could actually move forward." I ran my hoof around the inside of the pan. It finally felt like it was clean, but somehow, I didn't believe it was.

All too casually, she said, "Then talk to her, Soarin'."

I frowned at my reflection. "Braeburn said the same thing."

"And does he have a good mother, too?"

I closed my eyes and remembered Gala, how she loved Braeburn so much and wanted him to be happy, even if she didn't understand him. How she'd stayed up all night and actually listened to him when he was ready to talk. And Braeburn had said he was doing it for me, too, to take the lead and show me that it could be done, even though he was scared. I remembered how relieved Braeburn had been that night when he'd come back to bed after spending hours talking with them. She'd listened. She'd tried. Both his parents had. "Yeah. He does."

Flare set a hoof on my shoulder. It was warm. "Then let me be your adoptive mom for a bit, Soarin', and just trust me. It'll be good for you."

My wings hitched up, ready to hide me. "I dunno…"

"You don't have to know. That's my job."

I bristled. "But, like, what if–"

She smirked. "Is this an excuse I'm hearing?"

I waved it off and tried to pretend her tone didn't annoy the hell out of me. "Maybe. If she actually cared, though, why didn't she talk to me first?"

"She sent you that sympathy card, Soarin'. Even if she didn't care for your father, she still didn't want to hurt your feelings. I bet it was pretty tough for her to even do that much." She backed off and sat with poise and precision. "She's probably feeling the same way you are: embarrassed, afraid, and with a million questions."

I sighed. "I mean, you're probably not wrong." I shook my head. "It doesn't matter either way. I promised Braeburn I would talk to her when I was ready."

"Well, that's easy enough, then."

"Heh. Yeah. Easy," I said sarcastically.

"Braeburn knew you could do it, Soarin'." She cocked her head back. "I don't think I have to tell you to think of him if you need support. Spitfire told me how much you still love him. He loves you, too."

The skillet had been the last dish. I dried my hooves. "Yeah. We do. But…" I looked at my reflection in a wet plate, then back to her. "Flare, I really appreciate the nice mom routine, but I don't like it. I don't need it. You've got this perfect life – I get that it's not perfect, but hear me out – and I… You really don't get it. You can't." I sighed. "And I really just need to talk to her on my own, but I can't do it for Braeburn." I shook my head as I stared at nothing. "Not because I made a promise. I have to do it for me."

She was silent for a second, then looked out the window, her lips pursed slightly. "You're right. It sounds like you've got it figured out, and you don't need me or Braeburn to tell you to do it."

I laughed. "Heh. Yeah, but I wouldn't turn down a support cuddle."

Her lips creased into a smile, and the slightest crow's feet formed at the sides of her eyes. "I would, but my husband wouldn't be too pleased."

I deflated. "Not really in the mood for that, Flare. I want my coltfriend."

"Sorry, Soarin'. But I hope you know he's with you." She set her hoof on my shoulder again and looked me in the eye. "So is Skywise, and they're both proud of you."

She was right, of course. I could feel it deep down. I smiled at her. "Thanks, Flare. I'll get around to it when I'm ready." Outside, Streak and Spitfire were stretching and finishing putting away the patio furniture. "Do you… think my mom's gotten as good as you over the years?"

She thought for a moment. "I'll pretend I'm a less competitive pony and say she's got a shot." She winked.

We finished drying the dishes, and when the foals had been put to bed, we all said our goodbyes. I promised them I'd visit more often, and I have. It's still weird at times, but… but it's nice not having to be alone when I don't want to be.

Streak and Spitfire took the long way home to give me some more company, but I let them go at the edge of the Estates. Mechanically, I flew down to my condo, unlocked it, and walked inside.

It was the same dark, cold condo I'd grown used to over the years, and now, it seemed more lifeless than ever. I knew what it could feel like to have somepony there, filling the house with love, and thinking about how lively Spitfire's family had been made my place feel outright dead. The small pieces of paper that littered so many surfaces helped, and I spent a few minutes aimlessly wandering around and reading my favorite memories from them. Whenever I looked around, though, the quiet night scratched its way back into my perception, and I felt hollow and fragile all the same.

I ate a cold piece of Two-Apple Twirl to settle myself, and I spent way too long just staring out my kitchen window as I slowly processed all the ups and downs of the day. I sighed. "Keep moving, Stormcloud. It'll only get worse if you slow down."

I trudged to my desk upstairs to get my reading worksheets, but even then, I could tell I was only doing it out of habit. I worked on them for twenty minutes before my mind wandered too far, and as much as I told myself it would be good for me, it all felt pointless without Braeburn there to encourage me. I didn't get far.

I put both forehooves to my face and groaned. My eyes felt dry and strained, and when I opened them back up, I saw that I hadn't answered a single question on the worksheet. I blew air out of my mouth and smacked my lips. The flavor had gone stale, and I craved anything that would give my senses a rush. "One more piece," I mumbled. I remembered how much weight Braeburn had gained, but it didn't stop me, and I lumbered back towards the silent kitchen.

As I reached the base of the stairs, though, I caught a glimpse of the parlor, and I saw "Whitewing's Big Score." I realized that, overall, it had been a good day, and I wanted to keep up the momentum. "Yeah, worth it. I need a little help tonight, Braeburn." I smiled to myself, relishing that warm, rich feeling that he could still make me smile, even from so far away. I lumbered over to the bookshelf, grabbed the book, and started carrying it to the kitchen.

But I noticed a gap in the pages – there was more than just a bookmark in there. I froze in place, a broad smile breaking across my face. Whatever was in there, it was big, and I realized what was happening in no time. Tears welled up in my eyes as I shook my head and, half-laughing, stifled a sob. "Dammit, Braeburn. I freaking love you." I didn't even know what it was yet, but I knew he'd left me something, which brought back all the warmth and love of having him in my life and the sharp pain of losing him.

I dashed over to the table, sat down, and stared at the cover, taking rapid, shallow breaths. My wings twitched, my jaw quivered, and I smiled, like a colt staring at the biggest, shiniest gift on Hearths Warming Day.

I paused, letting the feeling draw out a moment longer. With shaking hooves, I opened the book.

Two envelopes were inside, one on top of the other. The top read, in big, curly letters, "Big Blue." I picked it up immediately, but I fumbled it when I saw the second envelope. It was addressed and stamped, but not yet sealed, and I was able to read the addressee. In that split second, my heart exploded with love and fear and awe, and in my shock, I dropped the first envelope back on top of the second.

Because… I recognized the first name. It was a name I'd only said a hoofful of times in the last couple decades, and most of those had been to Braeburn when he'd pressed me. It had felt foreign to say it, but here, it was so familiar. Yeah, I recognized that first name, but not the family name, and I brought both fetlocks to my face, half-laughing and half-crying into them. "Hahahaha! Oh, oh fuck!" I ran both forehooves back across my face and through my mane, finally leaning my head back. "Oh, Luna. Aw…" I sniffed and swallowed. "Aw, wow, she remarried."

Just reading the name Jetstream Nimbus made me feel like I'd performed back-to-back shows in an afternoon, but knowing that Braeburn had found her for me – for me, to help me, because he loves me – made me want to fly forever. I imagined Braeburn running around Cloudsdale, figuring out how to find her address and quickly running home to get his surprise ready for me. I felt his love for me wash over me, overwhelming, and I held my hooves to my chest to keep my heart from bursting.

And as much as I wanted to savor Braeburn's gift, I couldn't. My heart palpitated, and I bounced in my chair. "I get to hear him again!" I practically screamed. With careful, shaky hooves, I picked up the first letter and opened it. It read:

Hey, Big Blue,

I grinned, already crying again. "H-hey, Applebutt."

Forgive me if I ramble. I've started four times now, and this ain't easy. I'll do it, though, because I love you, and you'll always have my love and support.

I've figured you out, Blue. This date of yours over the weekend? I get what you're doing, and honestly, I couldn't ask for a better ~~send off~~ ~~way to be let go~~ way to spend our last few days together. (Sorry for the mistake, but I ain't starting again. It might kill me.)

I shook my head and tried, hopelessly, to dry my tears. "You're fine, Applebutt. It's fine."

You're giving me what I need to grow, and I can't fathom how much it must hurt you. You're selfless, kind, sweet, brave, and all the other good words in the dictionary, and I count my lucky stars that you're in my life.

Truth is, I'm scared, Blue. I don't think I can muster the strength of character to say goodbye when the time comes. I hope you'll forgive me if I falter, but then again, I suppose you reading this means we did it, didn't we? I'm already proud of you as I write this, Soarin', for so much, from how you've loved me to how you made me a better stallion to how you're taking care of me even now. You'll be spectacular, Soarin', no matter what you do, and I'm going to cheer you on the whole way.

At that point, I broke down. My head rocked forward, and I caught it in my hooves, accidently crinkling a couple pages of the book and adding a few of my own tear stains to the letter to complement Braeburn's. I sucked in breath after breath, quaking and sobbing and mumbling, "I miss you, Braeburn. I miss you. You're the good one. I love you. I miss you," for almost ten minutes.

When my strength finally came back to me, I sat back up and continued reading.

And I hope you don't mind, but I did some snooping. The hall of records is pretty good up here, so your mom wasn't hard to find. She hasn't gone too far, either. It looks like she's with a unicorn guy in Manehattan. Weird for a unicorn to be named Nimbus, ain't it? Must be part pegasus, but dammit, I'm rambling.

I hope you'll contact her, Big Blue. I know it'll be rough, but I believe in you, and you need this. I don't know when you'll be ready, but when you are, I want you to know that I'm thinking of you and hoping and praying for everything to go smoothly, and I'm going to help out any way I can. To that end, I took the liberty of drafting a letter for you. Use it or not, it's up to you.

Ending this thing is proving harder than starting, so I'll just say this: I'll always love you, Soarin' Windsong. No matter what happens this weekend, you're in my thoughts and my heart, and you'll always be my Big Blue.

Your Applebutt, forever,
Braeburn

…

I cried.

And I cried.

And I sat up, and I breathed.

It felt… good to read his words again. Even just a day and a half later, our breakup felt so distant, and here I had this thread to the time before our last date. Between it and the hat, it felt… complete, somehow, like it was locked into me forever.

I read the letter that Braeburn had written to my mom. He'd done a pretty good job of sounding like me while keeping it pretty vague. He'd left all the details of when and where to meet up to her, and all I had to do was sign it.

But I didn't want to use it. I thought back to the conversations we'd had and how he'd faced his own parents when he'd needed to. My respect for him had grown so much that night, and I knew what I had to do.

Plus, I wanted to keep the letter for myself.

I kissed the letter he'd written to me and said, "Thanks, Applebutt, but I have to pass. I gotta do this for me, and that means doing things myself from here on out."

I carefully placed the letters to the side where I could read them when I needed a boost, and that night, for the first time in decades, I reached out to talk to my mother.

Chapter 47 - Jetstream

The next couple days were rough. I sent Jetstream the letter on Tuesday, first thing, before I could chicken out. At the team meeting that morning, I got to air my personal life all over again. Most of the 'Bolts acted like I'd hoped, treating the news about Braeburn and the subsequent media silence like regular protocol, and left it at that. Sightseer, Wave Chill, and Fleetfoot came and sat with the captains at lunch, though, and…

Fleetfoot shrugged. "Hey, you're handling this pretty well, Soarin'," she said through her lisp. I counted down from three in my head. Like clockwork, she nudged my ribs and said, "You sure you're not a Changeling? The Soarin' I know would be throwing a fit."

I rolled my eyes, but Sightseer said, "Breaking up is always tough, Fleet. Be nice."

Chill laughed. "Okay, yeah, sure. It's easy to be nice when you get bumped up to main squad, Sightseer." He whapped me with a wing. "So. You're single, and I don't have to worry about being responsible anymore. Does that mean you're finally down to party again?"

I smiled. "Eh, I'd probably just be a downer."

Chill's face wrinkled up. "Hell no. None of this sad crap at a time like this." He wrapped a foreleg around Sightseer and brought him in for a sideways bro-hug. "We need to celebrate my dude's promotion! Hey, Streak, you mind if we have everypony over to the duplex this weekend? Maybe Friday after the show?"

Streak nodded. "Yeah. A few of 'em can crash at my place."

Fleetfoot narrowed her eyes at Spitfire and smirked. "You sure you're okay with that, Spitfire? I figured you and Streak would want some quality time."

Spitfire was unfazed. "Nice try, Fleetfoot, but no. I've still got a lot of practice to do with this whole 'partying like a regular pony' thing." She sipper her water. "It'll be good training."

The rest of the plans fell into place: we'd all head over to Chill and Streak's after the Saturday night show. Chill wanted to do Friday, and I almost came clean about why I needed to be fresh on Saturday morning, but Sightseer told us he'd rather have it on Saturday anyway. It would be easier to get the foals to his parents' place to babysit. Planning it all took the rest of lunch break, and I was grateful for the distraction.

The rest of Tuesday and Wednesday felt like I was in a giant marshmallow. Everything was… fluffier. It wasn't heavy or anything, but it was floaty. Hazy, like I was zoned out all the time. My flying suffered, but not too much. I was mostly coaching that week, anyway, since I would be doing half-time flying until we figured out a more permanent place for Sightseer. He was replacing me in th–

…Huh. It was happening again.

Another pony was replacing me on the team, pushing me out. It didn't feel the same though. I was happy for Sightseer – he deserved it, and every time he nailed a trick during practice, my tail lashed with excitement. He was one of my fliers, and it felt just like it did whenever I scoped out a promising recruit. I didn't even really notice what it would mean for me. Maybe I was too distracted, or maybe I should give myself a little credit for once.

On Thursday evening, another letter was waiting for me. When I opened my mailbox and saw who the hoof-addressed envelope was from, I froze and stared at it. I was stuck there until my neighbor, Dazzling Sundrop, shouted out to me to ask if I was okay. I sucked in a quick breath and looked up. "Hm? Uh, yeah! Thanks." I blinked away the dryness in my eyes. "It's cool. I just zoned out." I quickly tucked the letter under my wing and trotted inside.

The air in my condo felt stale, so I started by wandering around and opening the windows. Then the kitchen looked messy, and as I reached for a rag, I realized what I was doing. Shaking out my mane, I forced myself to sit at the kitchen table, then set the letter down in front of me. I crossed my forelegs and stared at it. It didn't feel real, and the tingling in my face made me realize how hard I was clenching my jaw.

I looked into the parlor. "Whitewing's Big Score" sat back on the shelf. I hadn't needed it for a couple days, but knowing it was there calmed me down. I shrugged and sighed over the pounding of my heart. "Whatever," I grumbled as I picked up the envelope.

But something about the rip of the paper made my mane stand on end. I slammed the half-open envelope down, rattling the table. "How dare she!?" I spat at nopony. I sneered and thought, 'Like it's no big deal! She probably had a response ready to go. It's probably just going to tell me to fuck off.' My wings flared out, and I hunched over, breathing heavily, angry at what a sunny evening it was.

A few birds chirped outside, and the world faded from red to its natural color. I groaned, nickered, and ran a hoof through my mane. "Dammit." The letter looked innocuous again, like it was made of cirrus and would disappear if I blew on it. Carefully, I picked it up, brought it to the parlor, and set it next to me on the couch. I needed something else, so I picked up the photo I kept there, the one of me and Dad at my graduation ceremony. I held it tightly and touched the cool glass, waiting until it felt like Dad was there with me again. "She… Jetstream wrote back, Dad." I shook my head as I looked at the envelope next to me. I set Dad's picture on the table and, as casually as I could, read the letter.

It's good to hear from you again, Soarin',

With another groan, I let the paper fall onto the cushion in front of me and rolled my head back. I closed my eyes, wincing at the slight headache that crept across my temples. My head shook on its own. "No way. Noooooo way. This isn't real." I looked down at it again. "This isn't happening. She's been gone for decades."

I could hear both Dad and Braeburn telling me that it was real, but for once, I didn't want either of them in my head. "Doing this for me," I repeated with a grunt. "This is for me." I picked up the letter and tried again.

It's good to hear from you, Soarin', even if my name isn't Jetscream. Slip of the pen, maybe?

"Shit," I growled.

But thank you for reaching out to me. I accept, but no, I'm buying. I owe you a hell of a lot more than a meal, but now's as good a time as any to start. I've already made both brunch and dinner reservations at Haylo's Kitchen in downtown Cloudsdale. Brunch would be easier for me, but if you're anything like you were as a colt, you'll want to sleep until noon on Saturday morning.

"Dammit," I said, dragging a hoof across my face. "She's good."

I'm looking forward to talking to you again, even if I'm kind of dreading it, too. I'll try to leave some of my baggage at home. Feel free to bring all of yours. Hell, I should probably keep both reservations so we don't feel rushed.

Let me know if that works, and hopefully, I'll see you Saturday.

-Jet

I winced, setting the letter down to the side. The parlor felt huge and drafty and cold. I couldn't bring myself to look at the front door, but I could hear it slamming in my head, over and over. To drown it out, I shook my head, said, "She owes me," and I picked up the photo again. "So I'm gonna do it, Dad. It's happening. I'm going to talk to Jet again."

A chill ran up my spine.

I wrote a quick note accepting brunch – partly because I had to be back for the Saturday night show and partly because I didn't want her to be totally right about me wanting to sleep in – and spent a few hours reading about Whitewing before bed. After sending the note with same-day delivery the next morning, I turned all my attention to Friday's show.

We performed in Cloudsdale that week. The home show was always part of our east coast tour, and traditionally, it was right after the Summer Sun Celebration. It's a way for us to re-center and bring some pride back to our roots after such a high-visibility appearance, and it's important for us all personally.

And I… did really well. I'd worried that I'd be in that same, messed-up headspace, but I tapped into the feeling I'd had in Baltimare, where I'd given it my all so that Braeburn would be proud of me. I still wanted him to be proud of me, and even if my flight wasn't perfect, I knew he would have been. I thought about him as Sightseer took over during the second half – he got massive applause when the announcer gave him the big "first show on main squad" routine – and it brought a smile to my face.

Braeburn had said he'd visit Mac and his parents on the way back to Appleloosa. I didn't know where he was that night, but I knew that wherever it was, he was surrounded by ponies that loved him. And I knew that soon enough, he'd be back home, ready to face Bronze with all their support behind him. And after that, he'd be okay. He could get back to working the orchard, his orchard, and the townsponies would welcome him back. It wouldn't take long for his roots to take hold again, and he'd be back in his element.

Just like I was back in mine. Connecting with Braeburn had brought a new spark to my passion for flying. It felt a lot like it did during my first few weeks as captain, and I carried that spark forward. I nailed the finale that night, just like I did for the… next three…

…Wow.

I only had three more shows after that. Crazy.

But Luna as my witness, I made them count.

After the Friday show, some of the squad wanted to go out and get a drink, but I obviously didn't go with. Sightseer got dragged along even though he'd promised his wife he wouldn't be out too late, but Wave Chill has his ways, and Streak wanted to buy him a drink, too. I quickly told Sightseer and my family about my plans, and they understood, even if Streak was pissed that I hadn't said anything sooner. When I told him I wasn't going, Wave Chill started calling me a wuss, but he shut up as soon as I smirked and mouthed the word "butt stuff."

I flew home slowly that night. After a hot shower that desperately needed another warm stallion, I dried off and flopped onto my bed. I lay there late into the night, splayed out on my back and facing the empty spot where Braeburn was supposed to be. Earlier in the week, I'd stuck a big, fluffy pillow in his spot and put his hat on top of it, just to feel a little less lonely. It helped to have something to reach over and cuddle, and I miiiiight have kissed it goodnight the first few nights after the breakup. And tried to have sex with it. While crying. Look, it was a weird week.

That night, I held it close to my body, spooning it and stroking it gently on its "face." With a sigh, I said, "You did this on purpose, didn't you?" The pillow didn't respond. "You wanted me to be so worried about talking to Jet that I wouldn't keep missing you." I squeezed it closer and took a shuddering breath. I tried to fake some anger, but my voice was soft and heavy and sad. "Well, too bad, Applebutt. I still miss you a ton." I kissed the pillow right where the back of his neck would have been. "But that's sweet of you. I love you, Applebutt."

My chest tightened at the quiet.

So… I grabbed the pillow on each side of the pillow case's opening, then fluffed it a couple times while squeaking out of the side of my mouth. "I love you, too, Big Blue."

Then I snorted, shook my head, and wrinkled my nose, all with my tongue sticking out. "What the fuck, Soarin'? Braeburn doesn't sound anything like that."

I frowned at the pillow, then squeezed its "cheeks" again, making it talk. This time, my impression was a little better and a little bouncier, but still way too squeaky. "Ah think Ah'd be less concerned about accents and more about talkin' to a Celestia-damned pillow."

I smirked at it. "Shut up, or you're not getting any more action."

"A-a-ah'll be good, Soarin'! Oh, I'd hate to risk losin' that sweet, sweet lovin' of yours." I made it dance a little in place. "Mm-mm-mm! Fluff me, Soarin'! Fluff me good and hard!"

"Heh heh. Sounds like somepony wants some…"

I became lucid, then incredibly sad, when I realized what was going on. My hooves dropped to the bed, and all the life drained out of the pillow. The hat rolled off, and I was left staring at nothing but a pile of feathers in a stained sack. And it had a terrible ass. Still, I put the hat back on it, kissed it, and whispered, "I love you, Braeburn, wherever you are. I always will."

"He'll always love you, too."

I smiled, cuddled up to my makeshift Braeburn doll, and fell asleep. That night, I got to dream about holding him one more time.

* * * * *

Soarin' trots alongside me. His foreleg pits look inflamed from where the braces have been rubbing him all day. I imagine there's some powder or something he can use, but he seems like the kind of guy to ignore health advice when it's inconvenient, especially when something important is on his mind.

Regardless, he still bounces along, if somewhat rigidly. His wings hitch up. He sucks in a deep breath and lets it out slowly, eyes forward. "Heh. I still reel a little when I think about that first meeting with her. My stomach's twisting itself in knots again."

"You went, though," I half-ask, pointedly not staring at his legs.

He stops and looks at me. "I had to. I'd promised myself I would."

* * * * *

I wore my black button-up from Las Pegasus, and I messed with my yellow stud until it looked perfect in my ear. Part of me wanted to wear my full Wonderbolt getup for the added authority, but ultimately, I wasn't going as a member of the organization. This was about me.

I arrived at the front lobby of Haylo's Kitchen, just a few minutes late. It honestly might have been intentional, like I was passive-aggressively trying to make her sweat. Or, more likely, it could have been the cramp in my wings, the knot in my stomach, and airy feeling in my head slowing me down. I don't know, but the flight over was one of the longest of my life.

And that's to say nothing of walking into the restaurant. It took two false starts and about a dozen deep breaths before I opened the door, and I only did that because I was afraid she'd be late, too, and would find me panicking outside.

But I finally stepped through the doors and into the lobby. Before I talked to the hostess, I looked out the window at the city streets that were teeming with ponies. My heavy breath fogged up the glass. With one last glance at my reflection and the stud in my ear, I squared my shoulders and set my jaw. "I've got this."

I asked the hostess about a table reserved for Nimbus. My knees locked up as she said, "Your other party member is already here. Right this way, please." She walked into the restaurant.

I didn't. My eyes fluttered, and my stomach felt like it would burst. The hostess looked over her shoulder when she got several paces ahead of me, and I started following just as she turned around to ask what was wrong.

We walked towards the back. Haylo's was a clean establishment, full of ponies in suits and cocktail dresses, all talking softly and fake-laughing in the way that society ponies do. Mimosas and Bloody Mareys sat on nearly every table, and with the large windows overlooking the patio seating, most of the restaurant was lit with natural light. The décor was all white except for the occasional golden or black highlights, and everything smelled like fresh greens, citrus, and tiny portions that cost way, way too much for how pretentious they were. It was exactly the kind of place I would have expected Jet to choose.

As I took it all in, I frantically glanced around the restaurant. My pulse pounded in my skull, and I could hear my breathing even over the din of the crowd. Each passing whiff of food made me nauseous, and I found myself scanning the same faces over and over again, either because I couldn't keep track of where I'd already looked or because I wanted to keep looking where I knew I wouldn't find her.

But as we walked to the back, I saw her sitting at a table next to the window. She was thin without being bony, and her powder-blue, nearly white coat was being washed out by the sunlight. What the sun took from her coat, though, it made up for in her striking, midnight-blue mane and tail, the same color as mine. The only differences were the thin, minty-green streaks and the way her mane flowed softly and naturally, compared to the messy, coarse look that mine always settled into. She wore a white shirt and smart, light green jacket that complimented her mane, along with a necklace made of pearls that were too big to be real. While I approached, she dug around in a massive designer purse, seemingly refusing to look up.

And she was wearing the earrings that Dad had given her at our last Hearth's Warming. I didn't know how to process that, so I pretended to ignore it.

Just like that, the hostess had brought me to the table, but Jetstream still didn't look up. After the hostess slipped away, I stood stiffly there for a second, cleared my throat, and said a weak, "Uh, h–… hey."

Jet looked up. She smiled. Her voice was smooth and mellow and low. "I'm glad you came, Soarin'. I was worried you wouldn't show." She glanced down at her bag. "Plus, now I can stop rooting around in this thing like a fucking lunatic." She casually dropped the bag onto floor with a thud and took a sip of her martini, which looked sickeningly dirty.

I froze there and cocked my head to the side. "…What?"

She waved a hoof in circles in front of her. "Eh, I was just distracting myself. I didn't want to do that awkward, prolonged eye contact thing when you walked in. So, it was either the purse or some crazy-faced maniac wave, like–" Her eyes and her smile went super wide and incredibly plastic, and she flapped her hoof around like a filly with a snake tied to her fetlock. I had the feeling I was supposed to be reacting somehow, but I was stunned. Her face settled into a more relaxed state, and she drained her martini. "I figured one of us would turn tail if we gave ourselves half a chance." She took a deep breath. "And I am not screwing this up again."

My mouth hung open, and I forced out a huffing laugh. "Huh. Yeah, you're… You're probably right." My nose, neck, and scalp all itched.

She sighed, folded her hooves, and spoke more somberly. "I am glad to see you again, Soarin'. Would you like to sit down?"

I hadn't even realized I was still standing. As I sat down, I tried to shake the low buzzing out of my head. "This is weird," I mumbled.

With a pause, Jet sighed. "I know." She looked out the window.

What struck me more than anything was how much larger than her I was. She wasn't tiny, and I'm pretty big by pegasus standards, but she was so much smaller than I remembered. It felt… wrong, like I was just a small colt in a grown-up Soarin' costume.

Neither of us said anything, and I looked down at the table. 'This is stupid.' I felt something pull me towards the exit. My brain felt like it was full of fireworks and tangled fuses, and no position felt comfortable. 'I should go now. I shouldn't be here.'

My eyes flicked up to her, just in time to see her looking at me. We stared at each other for a long moment, until she tightened her jaw and mumbled very quietly, "See, this is what I wanted to avoid."

It felt like the time I'd blown off a spelling test by writing "Soarin' Ruls" for every answer. She'd reacted the same way: putting up a wall and letting the silence dig deep into me, gouging me more than a scolding ever could. I hated it. It made me feel small. 'She's looking down on me again. Nothing's changed.' My throat was tight. I wanted to fly away and hide in my room, just like I had before. 'I should go. I should just–'

My thought was interrupted by a peppy voice. "Dark and Stormy, crushed ice." The waitress set a highball glass filled with brown liquid in front of me.

I started to protest, but Jet interrupted as the waitress served her another martini. "Thanks, dear." She turned to me. "I took the liberty. Couldn't hurt, right? Hope you don't mind."

I frowned and sulked. I felt like I'd been given some juice to help calm down and stop me from whining, and even worse: it was something I would have ordered myself. My mouth opened, but my mind was blank. For lack of anything else, I nudged the glass and mumbled, "I like these." The words felt half-processed and immature.

Jet smiled. "I thought you might. They were Skywise's favorite."

I bristled when she said his name. She hadn't earned it. My face felt hot, and I half-growled, "Dad didn't drink."

She shrugged. "Not after you got into his brandy, he didn't. Do you remember that night, Soarin'? Sky flew you to the hospital himself, and you had to get your stomach pumped."

I put a hoof to my head and felt dizzy. I thought that had happened after she'd already left, and the prospect of losing my memories of Dad made me sick. "Yeah, I… I do."

Jet set her hooves on the table. "You don't have to feel guilty about it, Soarin'. Give it a try."

There was a beat. Cautiously, I sipped the drink. They'd done a good job with it: heavy on the bitters and ginger without being too sweet. I set it down and stared at it. A knot formed in my chest and threatened to push tears out of me, but I had no idea why.

Jet spoke in a soft tone. "I'm ready, Soarin'. You can say whatever you need to."

I didn't.

The waitress came back quickly, but before she could open her mouth, Jet gave her a glare and a viper's smile. "Dear, have you ever been to Prance?" Her words dripped with venom, and the implication was clear – we'd wave her over when we needed something, but until then, she needed to stay the hell away. The waitress politely bowed and left us alone, and Jet turned back to me. She took a breath and said, back in her relaxed tone, "Soarin', I know you want to get some things off your chest, or else you wouldn't have invited me."

I knew what I wanted to say, but it sat like a rock in my chest, and I still had trouble looking at her. My legs kept tensing every time I tried to relax, and all I could say was, "You first." I bit my lip. I still sounded like a little, whiny colt, and I sneered at myself.

"Fair enough," she said. She looked out the window and lazily played with her necklace, squinting at the sunlight. After a moment, she took a sip of her new martini, then squared her shoulders at me and sighed. Her breath smelled like perfume and olives. I met her gaze, and she spoke clearly. "Son…"

She'd chosen that word carefully, and I faltered for a moment.

I looked back at her. She was frowning, and her eyes looked truly sad. I was suspicious she was faking it, but the silent moment gave me time to breathe again and relax.

Jet started again, directly and full of confidence. "Son, I try not to apologize for how I am. I want to live my life without regrets, and whose fucking business is it to tell me what to do?" She gestured with both hooves, suddenly full of energy. "Life's complicated, and nopony in the world fits a mold, no matter how much they tell themselves they should. It sucks at times, but that's how it is." She sighed and deflated, recomposing herself while spinning the glass between her hooves. "I'm… not… sorry I left Skywise, Soarin'. We didn't grow at the same pace or in the same direction. I wasn't ready to settle down the way he wanted, and it wouldn't have gotten better if I'd stayed. But even so…" She leaned in. "I am sorry I left you, too. I'm sorry I hurt you. I should have tried harder to make something work, and I still can't believe I let it happen the way it did. You didn't deserve that, and I was wrong."

…

I wanted… that to be enough. I really did, but instead of magically healing everything, it was like ripping up the floorboards in an old, wooden earth pony house and seeing all the skittering bugs and noxious air and rot that had hidden beneath for over two decades. As soon as she'd apologized, it all rushed to the surface. My face was on fire, and my head was pounding. I said through gritted teeth, "That doesn't make it better."

She looked down. "I know it doesn't, and I should have said so sooner."

My eyebrows furrowed, and I leaned in with raised shoulders. "Then why didn't you?" I snapped.

"I've been meaning to. For a long time," she said, glancing away.

"Fucking why? Because you felt guilty? You wanted to make yourself feel better?" The heat was taking over my body, and I stared daggers at her.

"That's part of it, but–"

My tail thrashed behind me. "'Cuz you obviously didn't care how I felt."

She sat tall and stared back at me. Her voice stayed even, "Soarin', stop it. That's–"

"No! You don't get to suddenly tell me what to do." I thrust my head forward and sneered, and it all burst out of me. "You hurt Dad." I slammed a hoof against my chest. "You hurt me. You just said you don't want anypony to tell you how to live, but you suddenly get to tell me to stop? How the fuck is that fair?"

Jet remained stoic, but I could see her cracking around her eyes.

"It's not, but you don't care. Why would you? You left." I bared my teeth as something black and acrid bubbled up from my stomach. I let it out. I wanted it to hurt her. "You never even loved me, did you?"

Jet gasped and sat back, eyes wide. It gave me a malicious thrill.

"You never fucking cared about me at all, did you?" I kept my voice low, but intense, and it felt like I was barking hard enough to knock her out of her chair. I hoped I would. "You didn't love me. Or Dad. You didn't care about either of us. You just wanted what was best for you! That's why you left. That's why I grew up without a mom."

Jet paused for just a second, still stiff. "That's not true at–"

"It is!" I pointed a hoof at her. "You didn't love us. At all. You didn't want us. You didn't–" I sucked in a breath through my teeth. My eyes watered, and my jaw quivered, and just as quickly as my anger had erupted, it started giving out. Out of nowhere, I was on the verge of collapse. I shook my head, my voice shaky. "You n-never wanted me, did you? I just made you miserable. I wrecked everything for you and Dad. Why would you want me?"

Jet leaned forward just slightly. "Soarin', that's not true, and I never wanted you to feel that way."

I fought back tears and spat, "Well I did. I still do. You never wanted anything to do with me, so you left." My hoof was shaking, and I could hear the ice clink against the glass in my drink.

Jet wiped at her face and swallowed hard. "You're wrong. It's not like that at all." She did her best to meet my gaze. "Soarin', do you think you're ready for foals?"

"Are you fucking kidding?" I put my hooves to my temples, my anger surging back through me like a lightning storm. "Do you even see me? I'm a fucking wreck! I'm yelling at a stranger in a public restaurant, and I don't even fucking care if it gets me fired." I continued shaking, but my rage melted partway back into sorrow. "I can barely keep myself together." My voice broke again. "I can't even fall in love with a pony the right away, and I probably never will." I threw my head around, mocking her with flailing forelegs and wings. "That ship has sailed – leaving port, buh-bye, sorry you missed it – so no, Jet, I'm not ready to have foals." I sneered and looked straight at her.

She took a deep breath. "Okay, how about five years ago?"

I nickered and growled. "No," I said flatly, bracing myself for what she was about to say. "I see what you're getting at, but–"

"Do you?" I tried to snap at her, but she cut me off. "Soarin', I was much younger than you are now when I got pregnant. I wasn't ready for foals, and neither was Sky, and we both knew it." She rapped a hoof on the table and leaned in. "But I want to make it perfectly fucking clear, Soarin': we w–" Her voice cracked, but she recovered quickly. "We were both ecstatic to find out you were coming." She stifled a sob, and a piece of my heart broke, a part that I'd always pretended I didn't have. "We were excited, and terrified, and we couldn't wait to meet you. Both of us. Both. Of. Us. We loved each other, and we've both loved you since before you were even a bump on my stomach. Fuck, we'd picked out names within a week: Soarin' for a colt, Selena for a filly, and guess what? We both hoped it would be Soarin'."

My jaw quivered again. Our faces were close enough to feel each other's breath, and both of them were twisted in rage and sadness. Even so, my heart warmed at hearing how they'd named me. I couldn't remember if Dad had told me that story before. He probably had, but instead of being excited to get that little piece of him back, I grew sadder about missing him. Jet had so much of my Dad to herself, and as far as I was concerned, she didn't deserve it. "I miss my dad, Jet," I pleaded through angry tears. "I want him back. Him. Not you. And it's not fair."

She sat up again and took a breath. "No, it's not."

I leaned back in my chair, too. "He would have been fine if you hadn't left."

Jet gave me a flat look. "Soarin', that's ridiculous."

"Is it?" I snapped, glaring. "He had to raise me by himself, and I was a freaking terror, and–"

Jet shot me a withering look. "Don't talk about my son that way."

"You're not my mom!" I slammed the table hard enough to rattle the silverware and hurt my fetlock. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the ponies at the next table look over, but I didn't care. "You left! You didn't want anything to do with us! I must have been awful, because you didn't want me." I wanted to go to my room, slam the door, and listen to angry music, just to spite her.

Jet pursed her lips. "That's not true, Soarin'. I didn't want to be with Sky, but I did want you. I just didn't fight hard enough."

"The fuck does that mean?" I blushed when I realized I'd used so many curse words in front of my mother. "Sorry," I mumbled half-heartedly.

She slowly took another sip of her martini and set it down. She stiffened her lip. "Just what I said. If I'd had my way, I would have had you every other weekend. I… would have picked you up from school on Friday and dropped you off there on Monday."

It felt like there was a hydra behind me, just out of sight and breathing down my neck. The weight of what she was saying started to press down on me. "What do you mean?"

She spoke calmly, her hooves folded on the table. "Those were my terms for the divorce, Soarin'. There was a custody battle, a tough one, and I lost."

I shook my head. I tried to think about her fighting to be with me. It was like there was this wall in my brain that kept me from picturing it, like it was just out of sight, but something about it made a twisted kind of sense. Looking away, I mumbled, "I… don't remember that." Without realizing it, I held my breath.

"Good. We both agreed that we didn't want to put you through it. We knew it would be messy, and getting you involved would have only hurt you" Her eyebrows raised. "And we were right, Soarin'. It got vicious. Sky didn't want me to have anything to do with you. He knew how much my leaving that night had hurt you, and he couldn't forgive me for it. I… tell myself that it came down to him having a better lawyer and his bullshit story about me being negligent, but…" She looked down and shook her head. "I could have fought harder. I should have fought harder."

I swallowed hard and hung onto my breath for another moment. Her words were etching themselves onto my brain, but they conflicted with everything else that was already there. I felt light-headed.

Her voice became gravely, and her disgust in herself was tangible. It was real. "But I didn't. I was a greedy, and intimidated, and I was tired of fighting, and… I messed up." She looked up at me with large, drooping eyes, and inside them, I couldn't find anything but sincerity. "And you paid for it. It wasn't fair, but I did it to you anyway."

My eyes were watering. "You wanted…" I could feel parts of my brain buckle. She wasn't making sense, or at least, what she was saying didn't mesh with everything I thought I knew about her. Her body language, her tone, the feeling deep inside me – it all told me she was telling the truth, but the Jet I knew couldn't have meant it. "N–… No. No, that–"

I growled at myself, angry for showing signs of weakness. I caught myself, though, and thought, 'The fuck am I doing? Did I just come at here to yell at her? Because it isn't helping.' I closed my eyes and felt the sun on my face. 'Don't make it about her. I'm doing this for me.'

I turned back to her, a calm edge to my voice. "I don't know if I can believe you."

She frowned at me. "That's… disappointing. I mean, you don't have to believe me, Soarin', but it's true. Skywise was… partly right, though." She sunk in place. "I don't mean to be cruel, but even though I wanted to see you and be around you, I didn't want to raise you, if that makes sense. I wasn't ready. I'm sorry."

She was apologizing again, and it hit me hard. I couldn't breathe. The world was spinning, and nothing fit together. I flicked my ear a few times just to feel the weight of my Braeburn stud. "I don't get it."

Jet drew in a long breath. "I don't, either, Soarin'." She looked away. "I should have done more. I knew it at the time, too, but I was greedy. And young and stupid. I wasn't ready for my young adult life to end. After the ruling, I thought I could make it work and… meet you again after a few years or something, but I wasn't able to give up my lifestyle. Or my career, for that matter." She looked back at me. "Would you have been?"

I thought back to that time of my life. At that age, I would have just started climbing the ranks, and I never would have become a captain if I'd had a family to take care of. Hell, I would've been lucky to get to where Sightseer is now – there's a reason that most of the main squad is young and unattached. I felt a dark pit in my stomach. "No, I wouldn't have been ready."

"It doesn't make it right, of course." She tilted her head back and drained her martini. "But that's how it is." Before setting the glass down, she made eye contact with the waitress and twisted it in the air, signaling that she wanted another.

I put a hoof on my temple and leaned on the table, eyes shut. My whole body ached, especially my head, and my heart pounded in my chest. I had to fight the urge to wrap myself up in my wings and hide. I thought, 'I don't get it. I don't get it. Dad wouldn't do that to me. He loved her. She's lying.' As I had that thought, though, my stomach felt cold and heavy, and I looked up. Jet was tilting her glass back again, getting the last few drops, and I felt something familiar wash over me. It was the same feeling I'd had as a colt the night she'd left: the cold void of missing her. 'Please be telling the truth.'

Jet placed the glass back down and looked at me expectantly. As we made eye contact, I realized how exhausted I was, and recoiled from everything that was going on in my head. Part of me wanted to keep pressing her, but the rest was desperate for a change of topic. I needed a break, and my walls came back up as instinct kicked in. I nodded at her glass and said, in a flat voice, "Jet, it's not even noon."

She just shrugged. "A lady can hold her liquor at any time of day."

"Whatever," I mumbled, turning to the window.

A beat passed, then she chuckled. "Don't be so judge-y. I've seen the tabloids. Some of me clearly rubbed off on you."

"Just the bad parts," I said, quiet enough that I thought she wouldn't hear.

"Or maybe just the fun parts."

I snorted some air through my nostrils and looked back at her, but then I saw her giving me a sly smirk. It wasn't just any look, though. It was a look that only one other pony had perfected, a look I'd only ever seen in a mirror. Her head was cocked back in a way that projected a teasing confidence, daring me to take her on. And it was working. I stared, completely stunned, as a familiar tingling took over my gut, prodding at me. "Whaaaaaat," she said with a chillingly familiar lilt.

And I… couldn't even.

"You thought you got your liver from Skywise?" She flicked her eyes down at the drink in front of me. "C'moooon, show me what you got. Chug." She softly chanted, "Chug! Chug! Chug!"

A little electric thrill shot up my spine. My mother was accusing me of being a lightweight, and she was right. The competitive itch took over from the pit of my stomach, holding back all the discomfort of where I was and what was happening, and I remember smirking and thinking, 'Oh, she's going down.'

And I… went with it. I opened my throat and downed my drink to the soft drumroll of Jet's hooves on the table, and as I did, I felt myself fill with the cold liquid, the burning of the alcohol, and the camaraderie you only feel as you get blitzed with somepony. She gave me a mini-applause as I finished, and she didn't let me set my glass down until I'd motioned to the waitress and ordered another, just like she had.

It felt good, in a way, to put the mask back on, to pretend like we were buddies and that everything was fine, but the unsettling feeling that underscored everything never totally went away. Or maybe it did, just a little. I don't know. I… don't know.

Jet snickered to herself. "Thatta colt. Impressive throat work, too. Did you practice on–?"

I shuddered. "Mom, EW!" I hadn't even realized what I'd said, and I certainly didn't notice when we started laughing together.

She teased me about being a playcolt, and I teased her back about never getting any. We kept laughing and swapped a couple drinking stories until our next rounds came. We went through those pretty quickly, too, and I was about to tell her about all my fun times with Fire Streak, but she cut me off, a sudden heaviness in her voice. "Don't… let me off the hook that easily, Soarin'."

I cocked an eyebrow. "Huh?"

She spun the martini glass between her hooves. "This is fun, but… it's not why we're here."

"Oh." My smile faltered. "Well, yeah, but…" Dread crept up my throat, and I tried to shove it back down. "This is fun, and I-I-I don't really want to talk about the other stuff."

"Neither do I, but a couple decades of keeping quiet hasn't done either of us any good." She looked out the window. "I ran away and hid back then, Soarin'. I don't want to make the same mistake now."

I sighed. "Yeah. Neither do I," I said solemnly.

She turned to me, waited for both of us to breathe, and said, "Well, I bet the silence bothers you as much as it does me. What else would you like to know?"

There's an image that's burned into my mind forever. You know by now what I'm talking about. "Do you remember the night you left?"

Jet nodded. "I think about it every single day, Soarin'." She shook her head slowly. "I wish so much that you would have stayed in bed that night. I'm sorry you had to see me go."

She knew. Those fucking stairs. "It haunts me, Jet."

Jet's wing hitched up.

Before she could apologize, I asked, "What were you fighting about?"

She hesitated and softly mumbled, "It's been so long, I don't even re–"

"Bullshit," I said flatly. "I'm not letting you off the hook."

"Right. You're right." She collected herself and sat up. "It was the same as usual: Sky wanted me to plan a family outing for the three of us, but I didn't know what to do, and he accused me of not trying hard enough. I told him I would figure something out before the weekend, but he didn't like that. It didn't fit with his plan, and he said that if I didn't want to spend more time as a family, then we had to seriously consider the arrangement."

I bristled again. My response was automatic. "No. Dad wouldn't just do that. He loved you. He loved us. He wouldn't let the family break up like that. He cared."

Jet's eyes softened. "Soarin', he cared about you. You were his world. He would have done anything to protect and nurture you, up to and including keeping me away. He thought I was being a bad influence and a bad mother, and he wouldn't just stand by and let me do something that had even the slightest chance of hurting you. He cared too much about you for that."

The back of my mind roared with, 'Who the fuck is she to talk bad about Dad like that?' I quieted it, though, because at least she wasn't talking down to me. I still felt like an ignorant young buck who thought he knew everything, but at least we were having a two-way conversation.

Jet continued. "And in a way, I respect him for that. He wasn't totally wrong, either. I wasn't a great mother, and I know now that we should have spent a lot more time as a family. I didn't realize what I was missing at the time. He did. But he…" She shook her head.

"He what?" Something about her tone made my blood run cold.

Jet sighed. "He had to have things–"

…

…

…Sorry. I'm okay.

She said, "He had to have things his way. He was honestly pretty controlling, Soarin'."

My jaw went slack, and I heard a thunderclap in my brain. "He… what?"

The wind had been sucked out of me. I tried not to think about what that meant. I tried not to think about Dad at all, but then my thoughts just cycled to me and Braeburn. I was left with all the times I'd kept him at home or forced him on the road or tried to run our relationship on my terms. 'Controlling.'

Jet swallowed a lump in her throat. "Yes. I think he had an idea about what a family should look li–"

"He–" I nearly vomited. Braeburn. Dad. Me. Over and over and over again. Reading Braeburn's letters. Telling him we wouldn't be traveling to Appleloosa. Keeping him locked up in the condo. "He was controlling. Of your relationship."

Jet gave me a sideways look. "…Yes. He knew what he wanted, and mostly they were good things, but sometimes it blinded him to what was really going on, to the family he actually had and the pony he was with." I stifled a sob, but she kept going. "He just… looked past what I needed sometimes, and the more things went wrong, the more controlling he would get."

I shuddered and buried my face in my hooves. I shook with anger at myself. I missed Braeburn. I saw the connection, the side of Dad that I'd never seen before, or something that I'd always refused to acknowledge, and it shook me to my core. Thinking about Dad being anything less than loving and caring and perfect cast a shadow of doubt over every memory I had of him, and it left me feeling stranded.

But… it all made sense, right? Who had raised me? Who had taught me how to forge a family life? I didn't want to believe her, but the more I thought, the more I remembered, and the more it made sense. All the terrible things I'd done to Braeburn flashed across my mind, and I fought, unsuccessfully, against another wave of tears.

It all fell into place, and it was horrifying. "Dammit, Dad."

Jet paused for a moment and said in short, clipped words, "This is upsetting you. I'm sorry. I shouldn't be talking about–"

I waved a hoof erratically. "It's– It's fine," I choked. "Just gimme a minute."

"Take your time, son." I did, barely holding myself together for a full minute. Jet, after a long silence, whispered, "I'll be right back." I kept myself from breaking down entirely, and she returned with four Dark and Stormys.

I didn't hesitate. I pounded the first one, just to give my face something to do besides sob. I shook out my mane and wiped off my tears on my fetlock, then gave up a small burp.

Jet gave me a few more seconds, then asked, "So… that touched a nerve. The hell happened?"

I wiped my face and sighed quickly, one hoof still on my empty glass. "I've been dating a stallion named Braeburn for the past few months."

Jet's voice went a little stiff. I think she was caught off guard by the sudden topic change. "So I've read. How are you two doing?"

It never got easier. "We broke up last weekend."

She blew some air from her lips. "I'm sorry. What happened?"

I collapsed into myself. "I… couldn't let him go. I'm… Dad, I…" I shook my head and inhaled, feeling the air fill my lungs to capacity and letting it all go quickly. "I begged Braeburn to live with me, and I more or less forced him to stay." I shrugged. "I'm really Skywise's son, I guess. I… couldn't see what he needed. That relationship was everything I've ever wanted, and I completely fucked it up, and it's..." My head kept shaking. I wanted to curl up and sleep. "And it's not your fault."

Jet's shoulders slumped. She frowned and reached across the table to put her hoof on mine. "It's not Skywise's, either. I'm sure he was a wonderful father."

I looked at her hoof. It was well-manicured, but there were a couple signs of aging. Some brittleness. A few veins were prominent. It looked… like a pony's hoof. I looked into her eyes and saw the same thing. As much as she wanted to keep up appearances, I could see wrinkles, and she had bags under her eyes, just like me. She wasn't a monster. She wasn't just a mare that had left me. She had her own demons. She was just a pony.

"Mom…" My voice was breathy and choked. A few tears rolled down my cheeks. "I'm sorry."

Mom spoke softly. "Son, you don't have to be."

"I am. I've been…" I shook. "…angry at you for so long. I thought it was…" I had so much trouble speaking, and I had to use a few mental calming exercises that Doctor Soul had taught me before I could say anything else. "…all your fault. Everything. This whole time. I thought I'd never be able to love anypony, and I thought it was all your–"

I thought of Dad, how his face had grown wrinkles before he'd died. How he'd started getting wing stiffness and how he'd lose his temper over stupid things. Never at me, but at the slightest things. 'Why didn't I ever realize how angry he could get?' He'd been a pony, too. He'd tried his best, but he was imperfect. Just like Mom. Just like me.

It felt like meeting him again for the first time, and my heart ripped into pieces when I realized how far away from me he was.

Jet spoke gently. "It wasn't anypony's fault, Soarin'. This is part of growing up and learning to love, I think. Did you and Braeburn leave on good terms, at least?"

I sniffled and nodded. The sun felt warm on my face. "We did. I… finally realized what he needed, so I let him go."

"Then Sky did a damn fine job raising you." With the hoof that wasn't holding mine, she lifted one of the remaining drinks. "To Skywise."

I picked up the other full glass. "To Dad." We clinked our glasses together and drank, and when we were done, I fixated on the pony in front of me.

I didn't recognize her. In some ways, she looked exactly how I remembered, but she still looked completely different somehow. I still don't totally understand what it was.

"Mom?"

She looked at me with weary eyes. "Yes, Soarin'?"

My lip quivered. "I don't want to be angry at you." My head shook. "I can't do it anymore. I don't want to. But I don't know what to do."

She nodded. "I think we could both stand to forgive ourselves a little more." She stood up, walked around the table, and gave me a big hug, wings and all. For a moment, she felt bigger than me again, and that felt right.

I mumbled into her shoulder. "I miss Dad."

"I do, too."

After we settled down, we finally ordered brunch from the very patient waitress. I got the huckleberry pancakes, but I don't think Mom noticed. It took time to get the conversation going again, but when it did, I asked her to tell me her story, and she told me everything.

After the fight with Skywise, Jet crashed at her friend's apartment for a few weeks. The custody battle started immediately, and Jet thought that not having her own place weighed heavily against her during the proceedings. She talked around the battle itself, I think to spare my feelings, but I got the impression that Dad had been pretty relentless. Mom kept reassuring me that he'd done so out of love, but it was still deeply unsettling.

She lost that fight, and she lost it hard. Dad got full custody, which was unusual for the time, since he was the stallion. Mom's lawyer advised her to accept it to keep Dad from seeking a restraining order. Mom cried for days after that, and she spent a bunch of her savings on other legal counsel trying to figure out something she could do, but it all turned up with nothing. She told herself that someday, she'd figure something out with me, but every time she thought about trying, she had flashbacks to Dad yelling at her and the judge ruling completely against her. Worse than that, she kept imagining me not forgiving her. It paralyzed her, and she said it reduced her to tears whenever she made an effort. In the end, it was so much easier in the moment to tell herself that the time wasn't right. But the time was never right, and it never would be.

She moved to Manehattan with some friends and kept partying. For years, she refused to date anypony, and she preferred having stallion toys for casual sex rather than trying to form any long-term relationships. Over time, though, the parties lost their luster, and her dissatisfaction grew and grew until it affected her work, her friendships, and every other aspect of her life. It all felt eerily familiar.

Jet met Spectral Nimbus at her new job in Manehattan about eleven years ago. They hit it off immediately, and for only the second time since leaving us, she broke her no-dating rule. She said that she felt something with Spectral that she'd never felt with anypony else, something that just clicked. For their six-month anniversary, Nimbus surprised her with tickets to the Wonderbolts show. By then, she knew about me, of course. "Turning the corner and seeing the marquee on the stadium was the most awkward moment of my life."

Mom and I figured out which show it was. Based on the timing and what she said about where I was flying, I would have still been on the secondary squad, doing transitions as a young up-and-comer. She remembered tons of details from the performance – even more than I did – and she said she was incredibly proud of me. Nimbus had gotten good seats, too, and Jet saw Dad sitting in the VIP section. "I was scared he'd see me, of course, but there was never any risk of that. The look on his face whenever you did anything was pure joy. You were still his entire world, Soarin', and having you for a son made him the happiest pony that's ever lived." It was the last time she ever saw him.

Spectral had been wondering all night about what was up with her, of course, and over dessert, she told him the disjointed story of her past. "He's a dream, Soarin', and I still can't believe he wanted to date me after that." It was the first time she'd shared that many details with somepony, and she thinks it was her first big step towards moving on. "That's how it is, though: I don't face my problems on my own. I wait for them to find me."

They got married less than a year later, and… right after that, she was pregnant. And she had been ready that time, too, so much so that they got pregnant with their second shortly after their first was born.

Twister and Cyclone Nimbus. I have two half-siblings. And that… feels amazing. And it hurts. Both of them want to be Wonderbolts, and neither of them knows their older half-brother is a captain. And the weirdest part? I've met them both multiple times. Spectral brought them to a meet-and-greet event for young fans last year, and we've done mini-shows and photos for their school district as part of our outreach efforts. Twister says her signed, framed picture of me and Spitfire is her prized possession. But they still don't know. "I didn't want to put any of us through that, especially you. I had no idea how you'd react."

And then, she was done.

I set my napkin down on my plate. It showed all kinds of creases where I'd been mindlessly twisting it in my hooves. "That's… generous of you. Most civilians who know us try to squeeze us for merch or tickets or something."

Mom set her napkin down, then stared at me for a bit. "You're expecting me to sort-of-jokingly ask for some free tickets right about now, aren't you?" She smiled.

I shrugged. "I mean, I don't think I got my sense of humor from Dad, either."

"Heh, thank Luna, right?" she chuckled. "But no, I wouldn't do that to you. And honestly, I don't know if I'm ready for them to know, either. If they ever do, I want to make sure you and I are on good terms first."

I paused. 'Are we on good terms now? This feels… sudden. Does she even want to keep going? She's moved on and, fuck, has a family now. She has a life. Ugh… I wish I could talk to Dad about this.' It was strange. It felt like I was back at Dad's place – our old place – for our weekly dinners, but it all felt lesser, somehow.

Mom read me like a book. "You'd rather be talking to Skywise right now, wouldn't you?"

I looked up. "Yeah. No offense."

"None taken. Speaking of that, though…"

I shrugged. "I feel like we've been talking about him all day."

"Yes, but I mean specifically talking with him." She reached into the giant purse and pulled out a thick, brown folder that had been neatly tied up. "I owe you a backlog of birthday presents. These should be a good start." She carefully untied the folder, then reached in and flipped through several items inside. "This'll be a good one. Careful not to get syrup on it." She held out an envelope.

"What's that?" I dipped my hooves in a water glass, dried them off, and then took it from her. It was a letter addressed to Jet. The return address was from Dad at our old house. "He… wrote you a letter?"

"Several," she replied. "It took some prodding, but a few months after I gave up custody, I asked him to at least let me know how you two were doing from time to time. He was suspicious and protective of you, of course, but if nothing else, Skywise understood family bonds." She winced. "It didn't hurt that, in his mind, I was basically admitting he'd been right. He loved writing about you, and I've read every letter dozens of times. That's one of my favorites, too. It has a picture in it."

Delicately, I opened the letter. There were three pages, slightly yellowed, and when I unfolded it, I recognized the picture immediately. It was the same one that I keep in my parlor: Dad with his foreleg wrapped around me, wearing that goofy smile, bursting with pride on the day of my graduation from the Wonderbolt Academy. I quickly skimmed the first lines of the letter, before the tears could get me.

Jet,

Stormcloud did it! He's an official Wonderbolt, and I don't think I could ever be more proud. I wish you could have been there with us.

My eyes furrowed, and I smiled. "You two made up?"

Mom shook her head. "No. Not exactly. Skywise and I never really made up, but we always had you in common, and Sky loved gushing about you. We'd both accepted where our lives were going, and I guess we realized we could stay cordial as long as we kept our distance."

I started to read the letter again, but then I gave up when my eyes watered. "I'm– I'm not going to get through this right now."

"It's okay. You spent more time with Skywise than I did. You deserve to have these."

I carefully folded the picture and the letter back up. She passed me the heavy folder, but as I packed it up, I felt the tears welling up inside me. "Why didn't he ever tell me? That you two were talking?"

She sighed. "We weren't. It was pretty one-way, with only a few exceptions. He didn't even want me sending you presents."

I sniffled. "Dad's not that–" I stopped myself.

But Mom finished the thought for me. "Controlling?"

I blushed. "Right."

"Soarin', I truly, truly believe he was doing what he thought was right. He wanted to protect you, and I'd hurt you deeply. He didn't trust me not to do it all again." She deflated. "And honestly? I can't blame him."

I was sobbing again and barely containing it. "Then why didn't you come to the funeral? Mom, I reached out to you. You said you were sorry for my loss, but… if you still cared, why didn't you come?"

Jet frowned, stared right into my soul, and said with perfect clarity, "Because I'm a coward, Soarin'."

The pure, raw sincerity in her voice shook me. "No. No way it's that simple."

She shrugged. "I'm afraid it is. I should have come to the funeral." Her voice cracked. "I… should have fought harder for custody. I should have checked in sooner or written to Skywise and begged him to let me come back. Should, should, should." A tear rolled down her cheek, but her voice was still even. "I told you I don't like to live with regrets, Soarin', but I have one from every day that I didn't try to make things better. And when Skywise passed, I was shocked, I was– I thought, 'That was it. I missed my chance. The family's broken.' And you didn't respond to my card, so… I thought you'd never want to hear from me again." She shook her head and dried her face on her sleeve. "I'm a fucking coward, Soarin'. I wouldn't even have tried again unless you reached out first." She reached across the table. "I'm so… relieved that you did, son. I'm so happy to see you again."

I didn't know if I was happy. I didn't know what I was.

She sighed and held my hoof again. "Soarin', I don't know if we can fix whatever the fuck we have left. I don't know if you even want to."

"I don't know, either," I whispered.

"I know… I don't deserve this, but I have to ask while I'm here." I knew what it was, and the air grew colder as our eyes met. "Can you ever forgive me, Soarin'?"

I stopped. I looked in her eyes and saw the pony in front of me. I'd heard her story, and I understood her and Dad in a way I never had before. I had connected with her after two decades, and here she was asking for forgiveness. I searched deep inside myself in that long moment, and I found my answer. "Not yet."

She went pale, and her face looked just like mine had in the days after Dad had died. "I… understand, Soarin'." She tried to pull her hoof away.

But I stopped her. "I said not yet." We were both shaking, and I spoke quickly. "I… want to, Mom. I hope I can forgive you and move on and be happy, but it's too much, and I don't know if I can trust you, and all the things with Dad? I didn't realize he… He was…" My head shook. "So I just can't. Not now. What happened between you and Dad fucked me up big time. I'm still getting over Braeburn, and–"

"You'll never get over him completely."

"I know," I sighed. "But… I need more time. Today was great, Mom." I looked her in the eyes. "And as fucked up as it's been, I mean that. The talking, the drinks, the letters, it's… It's more than I ever thought I'd get, but…" I frowned. "I'm still not ready yet." I finally let her hoof go, and we looked at each other across the table.

She struggled to find words, and she pursed her lips. "Is this going to be our last goodbye, then?"

Pain welled up in my heart, and a tear streaked down my face. "No! Please no. Please don't leave me again."

Her eyes darkened. But then she looked right at me. "I won't, son."

And I believed her.

She drank the rest of her Dark and Stormy, and we agreed to leave the last one untouched. She said, "So what would you like to do?"

I looked down at the folder, and I imagined going through those letters. I knew when I'd need them most. "Dad's… deathday. In a few months. It's always rough on me." I looked up with pleading eyes. "Maybe we could get together and swap stories?"

She smiled. "I'd like that."

"Thanks. You, uh…" I thought back to the letters. "You want that picture back? I've already got one, a-and…"

Mom nodded when I couldn't find the words. "I'd love it." She smiled warmly. "I keep the frame in my dresser, you know, where the foals won't find it but where I can see it every day."

"Heh. Then yeah, you should have it." I reached down to grab it, then passed it to her.

"Thank you." We stood up, I met her alongside the table, and we hugged tightly. It still felt weird, being so much bigger than her, but regardless, the hug was comforting. Without letting go, she said, "And if you need me sooner than that, please ask. I'll try to be brave and reach out, too. You're still my son, Soarin'. I still love you."

…

There's a piece of me that I've hated for most of my life. It's a little sliver of my heart that tormented me and made my memories of Mom and Dad and all of us so much more painful. I hated that sliver, and I'd spent my entire adult life trying to drown it out with sex and booze and fame and every thrill I could think of. I'd fought it for years. Even if Braeburn had nearly filled my heart, there was always one piece that I could never replace with him, something he could never repair. I'd hated that sliver. I'd tried to ignore it. I'd tried to kill it. I'd done everything in my power to get rid of it, but after talking with Jetstream that day, I understood why it had been hurting me all those years – why it was still important – and I was finally able to acknowledge it through an uneven, crying breath: "I still love you, too, Mom."

Chapter 48 - Skywise

Mom and I promised to keep in touch one more time, and we believed each other. After a long, slow goodbye, Mom started digging in her purse again, and even if she didn't say so, I understood what she was doing: this time, I got to leave first. I dried my face, smiled, and walked out of the restaurant with my head held high.

I tucked the folder with Dad's letters into my saddlebag, and I raced home. Even though my hooves throbbed and my brain kept telling me to sleep – or at least just chill for a few minutes – the folder kept calling me.

I didn't even land when I got to my front door. Instead, I unlocked it, lugged myself up to my room, dropped the saddlebag next to my Braeburn pillow, and belly-flopped onto my bed with a groan and a sigh. My eyelids felt heavy, but before I could fall asleep, I rolled onto my back and fished a letter out of the folder. Mom had kept them in chronological order, and I took one from early on. I was out of breath, and I had to wait for my hooves to stop shaking before I could read it.

Jet,

Soarin's well. He got first place at the Junior Flier All-Star Division races today, and he hasn't taken his medal off since. I had to slip it off him when he went to bed so he wouldn't choke. I'm proud of him, but at times like this, who wouldn't be?

I smiled. I remembered being upset when I'd found my medal on my dresser the next day, and I'd put it right back on.

It's rare to see him smile so much these days. He's been acting out at school, and he hasn't been sleeping well. It's been rough on all of us, but he's just a colt. Given the shitty circumstances, I can't blame him for lashing out.

Thank you for respecting Judge Gavel's decision. If nothing else, I admire you for that, and we can both take solace in the fact that Soarin' will get over it eventually. He's already asking about you less and less.

My stomach turned. 'That's messed up, Dad.'

He'll be okay, but I'll let you know if anything else comes up. –Sky

I felt a pang in my heart. Dad never swore, and reading him jab at Mom like that, telling her how relieved he was that I wasn't asking about her, I…

…I got angry at Mom. My face heated up, and my mane bristled. At first, all the rage over her leaving me bounded back, and even after I reminded myself that she'd had her reasons, my brain still defaulted to pinning everything on her. 'She made Dad swear. She pushed him so hard that he got petty.' How messed up is that?

But after I read it again, the logic broke down. I shook my head and sneered at myself. "No. Stop it, Stormcloud." It wasn't her fault that Dad had written those things. She's just shown me another side of him, and I groaned, "What the fuck, Dad?" After a deep breath, I carefully folded the letter and put it back in its place. My lungs felt heavy, and I stared at the ceiling with knit eyebrows, my jaw tight. "Why would… what?"

I felt too big for my skin, and my shoulders tensed. Dad was kind. He took care of me and encouraged me and took me stargazing and made me dinner and cheered louder than anypony in the world when I flew. He wouldn't have sworn at mom. He would never have been so vindictive. It couldn't have been real, and above everything else, it didn't sound like him.

I rubbed my temples in little circles, trying to massage away a new headache. "That was just a one-off thing." Eyes wrenched closed, I spoke to Dad. "I get it. You were frustrated. It was still new for you. You weren't always like that." I looked back at the folder. "…right?"

I lay there for a couple minutes, staring at the folder. It was bound tight, like a sleeping cobra. A few times, I moved my hoof, but I kept stopping myself, tilting my head when I couldn't decide whether to look or not. Finally, I sucked in a breath and grabbed another letter, one from a few months later.

Jet,

Soarin's been getting into fights at school lately. He's been moody, and I can't help but notice he's acting a lot like yo–

I folded it up without finishing and quickly put it back, cursing when I accidently ripped a corner.

I remembered what he was writing about, when I'd started picking on other ponies that couldn't fly as well as me. Dad had punished me, but never too hard, and I suddenly understood why: he'd always had somepony else to blame.

With fire in my voice, I said, "Dad, that isn't you."

No answer.

My room felt giant and cold. I looked to the side to my closet-mirror and saw a big, blue expanse, and the emptiness unsettled me at my core. My breathing grew heavier. I tried to conjure up Dad, to hear his voice like I always had whenever I was upset, but when he started to say things like, "You're right, son. That's not me," it felt hollow and stiff. It didn't sound like him.

And worse, the letters sounded more real the more I thought about them.

I focused harder and tried again and again to talk with him, but I couldn't feel him. Every time, the conversation died a sentence or two in, and instead of feeling warm and safe, it felt like I was talking to a dead-eyed, unbreathing imposter with sharp teeth and a rigid grin. My mind spun, like that… doppelganger was edging me backwards towards a dark canyon with my wings tied to my sides. I felt the pit looming closer, but I kept thinking, 'So he made mistakes. Everypony does. He still did his best, and a few letters don't make it any less real.' Out loud, I said, "And we'll be back to normal soon, right?"

Still, no answer. I felt like I'd taken another step back towards the cliff edge.

My heart thumped hard in my chest, and my breathing became sharp and hot. I sat up, and it still felt like something unwelcome was there with me. My eyes darted around, and I caught a glimpse of the picture on my desk. It was still turned face-down. Without thinking, I hopped out of my bed, galloped the few steps to my dresser, and quickly turned the photo over.

Hearth's Warming. All three of us. It didn't… It wasn't… I don't know how to describe what I was feeling when I looked at it. It sort of felt like everything was jumbled, like the words had been after my concussion. I knew all the parts, but I couldn't make sense of it. Whatever it was, though, it got the imposter to quiet down, and I set the picture up where I could see it from my bed. I felt dizzy, so I went back to lie down. I clutched my Braeburn pillow to my chest, then I groaned and hugged it tightly until I could fall asleep.

Thankfully, I woke up later than I'd wanted to – too late to worry about my own issues – and I had to dash to get ready for the show. I threw on my uniform and was at the front door before the coldness could catch up with me. But I hesitated, and in that moment of weakness, I dashed back upstairs to grab the folder.

I don't know if I'm happy or sad that I was in the show that night. On the one hoof, I could have used more time to process everything I'd been through with Mom and what was happening with Dad, but on the other, I needed to keep moving before I got completely bogged down, and the exercise helped keep me from freaking out.

The stadium was packed that night, and Fire Streak and I drilled into our team one more time how important every single show is. They delivered, and Sightseer did an amazing job, too. His turns were perfect, he never missed a cue by even a wingbeat, and his contrails were crisp and stunning. Granted, he'd been on the main squad in a temporary capacity before, so the routine was well understood, but I did catch him hyperventilating and laughing between acts. It's the only time I've seen him smile after getting a good-intentioned slap on the ass to get him refocused.

And when the show was done, he had that look about him: wide-eyed, afraid to smile but unable to stop, and shaking like an over-caffeinated Reserve right before their time trials. It didn't stop his family from leaping onto him as soon as they got backstage, though, and his daughters beamed brighter than the show lights. Sightseer calmed down once he could cuddle his fillies for a few moments, more than my parents ever had in public. His wife Vapor Wave got in on it, too, and seeing them so happy made me think, 'Do Sightseer and Vapor Wave fight when the fillies are in bed?'

Spitfire saw me staring and jabbed me back to reality. "You okay, Soarin'?"

"Hm?" I blinked away the dryness in my eyes. "Uh yeah. Kinda." I cocked my head. "Actually…"

I asked her and Streak to keep me from getting too far down the rabbit hole, and every time I started staring off into the distance, they joked with me and told me to hurry up and get ready for the big party at Wave Chill's. I got there in one piece, and once I was a couple drinks deep, I finally had a real conversation with ponies that were still alive.

The party was a little milder than the one at–… my place had been, but that's mostly because Wave Chill's a great host. He kept the music to a dull roar, since Sightseer isn't huge on dancing or ultra-loud music, and besides, we were all mostly talking to Sightseer in the backyard, anyway. Everypony kept asking him how he was feeling and what his plans were and what he'd like to see out of the show, and even though he got flustered, he stayed on top of all our questions. At one point, he laughed and said, "This is nothing. I once had to explain all of flight dynamics to my fillies." The extra beers helped, even though he's not much of a drinker. Vapor Wave cut loose a little, too, since the foals were at Sightseer's parents'.

Me, though? I danced. It was a lot less sexual and forward than usual, but I still lost myself in the beat and worked off whatever tension the show hadn't already burned through. It reminded me a lot of the parties from before Braeburn, with the one difference being that I was actually enjoying myself instead of trying to drown out the quiet.

There was one other special thing, though. Late into the night, after everypony else had gone home, a small group of us lay on our backs on a big cloud above Chill's place. Streak, Spitfire, Chill, Fleetfoot, Sightseer, and I lay in a ring, our heads in the center, looking skyward. Some of us nursed the last bottles of the now-warm beers, while others just enjoyed the balmy, semi-humid nighttime. Nopony had gotten completely trashed. Wave Chill's marefriend had already gone home. Vapor Wave had, too, partly to give Sightseer's parents a break, but partly to give us space to just have team time. Spitfire and Sightseer talked idly about Sightseer's experience and what he wanted to strive for in the future. The rest of us just looked up at the endlessly deep, sparkling sky, quietly contemplating our place in the universe and thinking back on everything that had brought us to that moment.

Then Wave Chill belched super loud. The rest of us shared a low, rumbling laugh, but a quick burst of electricity shot between all of us, and it was on. Fleetfoot, Streak, and I responded with gut-twisting belches of our own, and soon, a contest broke out, with everypony trying a bunch of different techniques that rattled all through the neighborhood and scared away at least a dozen high-flying birds. Sightseer and Spitfire even got in on it towards the end, and by the time we'd all run dry, we were laughing ourselves stupid. In the end, we agreed that Streak had taken the title, mostly for his impressive endurance.

As we settled down, I snickered to myself and mumbled, "You doofuses."

Wave Chill held a mostly empty bottle to the sky. "Yeah, but we're your doofuses, captain."

Fleetfood chimed in. "We just follow your lead, Soarin'. We can't be held responsible if you set a bad example."

We all laughed again, and Chill turned to Sightseer. "Welcome to the glamorous ranks of the Wonderdoofuses, Sights. It's not too late to back out."

Sightseer laughed politely. "No thanks, Chill. I've worked hard to get here, and a belching contest isn't scaring me off. I plan on taking Streak down one of these days, anyway."

Streak snickered, slurring his words just slightly. "Gooooood luck with that, Sights. Soarin' and I have been practicing since the Reserves."

Fleetfoot craned her neck to look at Sightseer. "You sure you're ready? The critique gets a lot harder once you're at this level. Isn't that right, captain?"

Spitfire spoke in her usual, strong voice. "Affirmative, Fleetfoot." She smirked at Sightseer. "Hope you're ready, newbie."

Sightseer rolled onto his side to face her. "Hey, c'mon! I've been a Wonderbolt longer than you have, captain!"

I smiled. "Yeah, but you're still a newbie. Don't sweat it, though. Just stay on long enough to razz the next guy."

Streak stretched out his wings. "Yeah, we've all been there, Sights. You won't be th–"

Sightseer laughed and waved a hoof. "Okay, okay, question: is 'Sights' a thing now? I've never been called that in my life."

I puffed up my chest. "Damn straight it's a thing! You've earned it." I lifted my nearly-empty beer. "To Sights!"

"To Sights!" came a chorus of Wonderdoofuses.

Sights chuckled. "Won't my kids be proud. I'm finally cool enough to have a nickname."

My chest felt heavy again, and my mood suffered from sudden whiplash. 'Stormcloud.' It echoed in my head a few times.

Fleetfoot flicked her tail. "Eh, you seem like a pretty cool dad already. Maybe not cool cool, but the kind that they'll really appreciate on their wedding day. Y' know, after they've already made all their mistakes."

My body went numb. 'I didn't have a nickname for Dad. I should have. Why didn't I?'

Sightseer whimpered. "Aw, don't do that to me yet! They're already growing up too fast. I don't want to think about that."

I remembered Cyclone and Twister. And, well, me and Mom. 'Did she do better with them?' My heart fluttered. Mom hadn't shown me any pictures of them, but I imagined talking to them at one of the school shows. I could see every detail, and I wondered if I'd be able to pick them out the next time. 'Do they look like me?' She'd worked hard not to expose her kids to the celebrity life, and that must have meant she was at least more attentive, right?

But where did that leave Dad? He was the most attentive pony I knew, but then again, what did I really have to compare him with? I'd turned out pretty messed up by the time he'd passed away, and I sucked in a quick breath as I thought, 'Maybe he wasn't great?' My head shook away that thought immediately, and my left eye watered just slightly. 'No. No, don't think that way. I love him. He loved me, even if he wasn't…'

I don't know how long I was lost in my head, and I'd completely lost track of the conversation when I timidly interjected, "Hey, Sights? How… do you know whether you're a good parent?" The night went deathly quiet, and I shrank, quickly bending my neck to see everypony staring at me. "…What?"

Five sets of wide eyes.

A little louder, I asked, "What?"

Chill was the first to say anything. "Uh, dude? The last time you got all serious, you told us you have brain damage."

There was another beat.

Sightseer craned to look at me and cleared his throat. "Yeah, did something happen?"

Fleetfoot laughed. "Did you finally get a fan pregnant?"

'They're worried about me.' I shook my head, and whether it was the beer or the camaraderie, I casually responded, "Nah. I just…" I mumbled, "…talked to my mom today."

"Woah," Chill said, sitting halfway up and turning around to face me. "Really? I thought you didn't talk to her anymore since, like, ever."

"Yeah," I sighed. A little louder, I fake-chuckled and said, "First time I've even seen her since I was a colt."

Fleetfoot grunted. "This is one of those things Spitfire and Streak already knew about, isn't it?"

"Mm-hm." "Yep."

Sightseer fiddled with his hooves and asked, "So… how'd it go?"

I gave them the short version, about why she'd stayed away and what I'd gotten off my chest. It exhausted me all over again, and by the time I was done, I thought I'd pass out on the cloud.

But as it turned out, the other 'Bolts all had plenty of stories about how their parents had messed them up, too. For years, Spitfire never felt good enough for her mom, and she still feels inadequate sometimes. Fire Streak's parents were pretty supportive, but they worked all the time, and he felt like he always had to compete for their attention. Wave Chill's parents started buying him beer when he was barely an adolescent, and Fleetfoot thinks she developed her lisp because of how hard it was to talk to her mom. Even Sightseer didn't completely trust his parents to set decent boundaries, and it still terrified him to let them watch the fillies.

I listened and spoke honestly with them for hours. Some of the 'Bolts used to say that Spitz was the brains of the team and that I was the heart, but that night, I think we all were a piece of both, and I realized that my family might have been even bigger than just the three of us captains.

We talked until the first hints of sunlight peeked over the horizon. Chill had fallen asleep on the cloud, but Sightseer roused him and got him back to his place. I stayed over at Streak's that night, but before I curled up on the couch, I dug out another letter from Dad.

Jet,

Soarin's away at summer camp for the next week, the same one we both went to as foals. Hopefully he likes it more than you or I did. I told him to make lots of new friends, but he blew me off. He knows that he probably won't ever see any of them again, and even though I'm impressed by how worldly he is, I'm worried he's already too cynical for somepony his age.

He's making friends okay, at least around at school. He's falling in with the other athletic colts, which is no surprise. I just hope they turn out to be a good bunch. He still refuses to play airball after what happened last season, but he's taken to the speed track well.

I really hope he makes friends, Jet. There are so few ponies you can count on in this world, and he needs them more than anypony else I know. I can only do so much, especially with the extra hours I've been picking up lately.

Wish us both luck,
Sky

…

I breathed.

'Did you have friends, Dad, or was I the only one?'

The paper crinkled as I folded it back up and looked out the window. The light was getting stronger, and I knew if I didn't sleep soon, I wouldn't be able to.

I looked around the room and saw that Streak had framed a copy of his hometown paper, where he'd made the front page after his debut as captain. He'd gotten his parents to sign it, and he had a picture of the three of them from after the show. I don't think I've ever seen him smile so wide.

Next to that was a picture of his first day as a Wonderbolt on the main squad, as well as a few other random photos. One picture of him and Spitfire had snuck in, both of them looking content but frazzled. I think it was their first after-sex picture, but it was tasteful enough that you might not guess what it was. And of course, there were several of us as a whole team.

I smiled and looked back at the folder. "I made some pretty good friends, Dad. You didn't need to worry."

Still no response, so I lay down, pulled a pillow over my head, and fell asleep.

The group was up by a little after noon. Sightseer tried to leave, but Wave Chill pulled his "Screw you, we're still partying" routine and got him to agree to brunch. The group was looking for suggestions, and while I was still feeling the same warmth I had felt the previous night, I blurted out, "How about Bad Sun Rising?" Streak and Sightseer were the only ones that had been there before. I'd avoided bringing the team – it was my special place, after all – but that morning, it felt right, and they all agreed.

Our entourage flew over in a tight formation. We weren't trying to perform or anything, but you can't get six Wonderbolts to fly together without the instinct kicking in. We got a few stares and enthusiastic waves on the way over, which we returned with some crisp salutes of our own. Before long, we were downtown and the second group in line for a table.

I wanted to enjoy brunch, but as we waited to be seated, I remembered the last time I was there. Holli had tried to warn me that Braeburn wasn't doing well, but I'd still been in denial and had stormed off. We hadn't spoken since.

There was a different hostess at the front, but Holli was cleaning up tables and taking care of checks. Her smile faltered a little when we made eye contact, and I swallowed a lump, idly wondering if she was still mad at me. 'I wouldn't blame her.' I lagged behind the rest of the group as the hostess led us to the table.

We turned a bunch of heads, of course. We were late enough to be past the peak Sunday brunch hours, but there were still plenty of eyes on us. Our table was on the opposite side of my usual booth, towards the back where it was at least slightly private, but we all shared knowing nods when we realized we'd have to be "on" for the rest of the meal. We ordered more than we could eat from a different waitress, and it didn't take long for one bold fan to open the floodgates and stop by the table. From there, a long line formed, and Spitfire quietly reminded the group to tip well for disrupting the restaurant's service.

With all our fans watching, we couldn't bullshit the way we had the previous night, so a lot of the magic was lost, but it was okay. I was with my friends, my family, and it was comfortable. It's good for the soul to be recognized in public from time to time, or maybe we were just feeding our lifelong addiction to fame, but we were in it together, and we made damn sure Sightseer got his due most of all.

We stayed until mid-afternoon, shoveling tepid food into our faces between posing for pictures and signing headshots. A few passers-by even came into the restaurant just to see us, and when it started becoming a problem for the wait staff, Spitfire called out, "Okay, Wonderbolts. I think I've got to head back. Streak and I need to finish paperwork for next week's show."

Chill perked up and dropped his voice half an octave, the way he always did for the crowds. "Anypony going to the Horsemouth show next weekend?" A few ponies whooped in response. "Alright! We'll see you there!" Professionals, those Wonderdoofuses. We said our goodbyes, but I hung back. I needed to talk to Holli.

…which gave the remaining spectators the chance to ask where Braeburn was. I'd prepared, of course, and I stuck to my plan. I imagined him surrounded by his own family, happy even though he missed me. I pictured him recovering from the Saturday night dances in Appleloosa and filling out paperwork with pristine hoofwriting. I knew he'd be happy, so when I smiled and answered their questions, it was sincere. "He's home."

I managed to skirt by without too many more details, and thankfully, no paparazzi had found us by the time the crowds dispersed. There was one last pony at the very end of the line, though, her apron covered in stains and her mane just starting to show the effects of a full day of serving hungry customers. Despite that, she balanced two rosewater shakes on a tray with one hoof. She had a cream-colored coat, a yellow mane, and just a little twang to her tired, relaxed voice. "Hey, Sugar."

She still looked gorgeous.

I smiled at her, and my voice was soft and low. "Hey, Holli." I gave her a half-wave. "You look beat. Wanna sit down for a second?"

"I thought you'd never ask." She sat down and set one shake in front of each of us. Her voice and her movements heavy, she said, "On the house."

I grabbed it, said, "Thanks," and sipped through the wide straw. She looked on, and even though there was a long pause, my heart didn't feel heavy. Holli was waiting patiently, though, and after I swallowed a mouthful of shake, I let out a long, cold breath and looked up at her. My smile melted just a little. "You were right. About Braeburn."

She nodded. "I know. I'm sorry I was."

I played with the straw, bobbing it up and down in the shake. "And I'm sorry I didn't listen." I looked up. "I didn't want to lose him. I couldn't even imagine what it would be like, and I just… couldn't face it." I drooped, thinking of Dad again. "I've learned a lot about myself the past week or so."

"Apology accepted, I guess." Holli looked out the window. "You two were good for each other."

"I know."

We both turned to face the restaurant, each sipping our shakes and avoiding eye contact. Pulling away, Holli laughed coldly and said, "First real conversation we've had in a while, isn't it? And we can't even keep it going."

Injecting some artificial cheer into my voice, I said, "Well, can we catch up sometime? When neither of us are working?"

There was a pause, and my ears itched. Holli sighed and looked back at me. "Don't know if I should. I'm in an awkward spot, Soarin'."

I read her face, and my expression flattened. "You're still in contact with Braeburn, aren't you?"

She nodded. "He's a true gentlecolt, that one. Sent me a letter after he left. He apologized five times for not saying it to my face, but he said he'd love to see me again. He even included an apple-onion stew recipe for me to try."

I looked down at my rosewater shake and decided I'd better savor it. I took a short pull from it, just enough to fill my mouth with the creamy, floral taste without draining too much. "He's an amazing pony."

Holli bit her lower lip. "Soarin', I don't want you to think I'm choosing him over you."

I chuckled. "Holli, that's exactly what you're doing." I shrugged and smiled. "I get it, though. I'm not mad. You hit it off with him."

Holli relaxed back in her seat, took another sip of her shake to buy time, and swallowed. "Soarin', I've known you for a long time, but it's never really gone anywhere, has it? The–" Holli looked around, remembering where she was, and lowered her voice. "The sex was great, and I liked seeing you on those rare occasions, but… it's been weird for a couple months now. I've seen parts of you that I'm not sure I like, and it'll just get weirder if I pretend everything is fine." She folded her hooves. "I'm sorry, Soarin'. You're always welcome here, but I don't think I can really see you like I have been anymore."

My shoulders slumped, and I scratched the side of my face. "Heh. Plus, it'd just be a matter of time before Braeburn and I started asking about each other. I'd give it a month."

"Right, exactly. Does it…" She frowned and slowly spun her shake. "Am I being terrible?"

I thought back on our history. She was right that most of our relationship had been at the diner or in bed. I'd never wanted to date her, partly because she never stood up for herself or went after what she wanted. I smiled inwardly at the irony. She'd found a good friend in Braeburn, though, somepony she could share recipes and passions with, even if it was long-distance, and I couldn't take that away from her. Braeburn deserved to be appreciated by as many ponies as he could.

I looked back up at her and smiled. "You're amazing, Holli. I understand."

Holli smiled. "I'm pleasantly surprised." She laughed her cute, little laugh. "Shocked, really."

I shrugged. "Hey, you can thank Braeburn for me when you see him." I started to sip my shake, but abruptly stopped. "I, uh… just did it, didn't I?"

Holli waved a hoof and shook her head. "I'll give you a pass this time."

"Thanks." I looked out the window. "I hope it works out for you. Be nice to Braeburn. If I hear you've made him cry, I'll buy this restaurant just so I can fire you."

She chuckled. "I'm pretty sure I could call the cops on you for threatening me like that."

"Heh. You'd be okay either way." I looked into her eyes, and a thought bubbled up in the back of my mind. "You should open your own restaurant, Holli."

She rolled her eyes. "Soarin', you've been saying that for years."

I nodded. "Yeah, and I mean it. You could do it. You can cook, you can manage, and everypony likes you. I'd stop by every day."

Holli smiled. "Of course you would. I'd feed you rosewater shakes until it came out of your ears." She began to stand up. "I need to keep doing my job, but no goodbyes now, y' hear? I fully expect you to maintain that special booth of yours once the bruises have healed."

I smiled. "I promise." I stood up with her and have her a big, warm hug. "You're special, Holli. Never forget that, and thank you for everything."

She squeezed back. "You, too, Sugar. Take care of yourself."

She moved on to another table, and I left her a big tip: my usual rate, plus just enough to cover the little bit I'd missed a few months before. Swallowing the first hint of a sob, I silently wished her and Braeburn a lifetime of friendship, and I savored the ringing of the bell above the door as I quietly made my exit.

The rest of the day was pretty much a wash, but I managed to do the grocery shopping all on my own, and I spent a long, long time in the produce section. I could only remember a hoofful of the tips Braeburn had given me for telling when fruits and vegetables were ripe, but overall, I did pretty well, and the tomato and mozzarella salad I made for dinner tasted better than any other salad I'd ever made. It was one of Braeburn's recipes, of course.

I went for a flight after dinner, but my lack of sleep quickly caught up to me, and I headed in shortly before the sun went down. Before I went to bed, I read another one of Dad's letters.

Jet,

Sorry it's been a while. Time keeps passing, you know? And I've been reeling for the past week or so.

I think I told you Stormcloud broke up with Fire Lily a month ago. Well, he didn't waste any time. He brought a stallion home today, and he says he's bringing this Swanky Hank guy to the high school dance.

I don't get it, Jet. Soarin's athletic, masculine, and all the young mares chase him. I just don't get it. I tried to hide my shock, but I swear Soarin' just wants to get a rise out of me sometimes. In any case, I ended up embarrassing him again, so at least that part was the same. Hank seems like a nice enough stallion, at least. Very polite. We'll see if it lasts.

After he left, I talked to Soarin' about how it might affect his future in the military, but he said that it's not like that anymore. He's right about the policies and things, but we both know it's going to be harder for him, right? He'll get picked on. He might become isolated. I never want him to feel that way.

But by the same token, he's my Stormcloud. He's never let anything stop him, and I'm going to support him to the last inch of my life. As long as he's happy, I'll be happy, even if it means I won't get any grandfoals.

Maybe he needed a mare in his life after all. I just don't know.
-Sky

Dad eventually came around, of course, especially after I dropped Hank for another mare and he started to wrap his head around what bisexuality is. It helped, but reading his words years later, it left me unsatisfied. I know now that he would have loved having Braeburn as a son-in-law, but that morning, I was still questioning everything I knew about him.

What if Dad had eventually grown resentful? What if continuing the bloodline was that important to him? Would I have had a kid just to satisfy him? Weakly, I tried to talk to him again, but it still didn't feel right. I tossed and turned that night thinking about it.

The next day was Monday, my therapy day. Doctor Gentle Soul wasn't there to greet me in the lobby like he usually was. Instead, I checked in and walked back to his office myself. It was colorful and bright, like always, and that made his black sweater stand out all the more. He smiled a sad smile as I walked in. "Welcome back, darling."

I stopped in place and smirked. "Heh. Hope told you?"

Gentle Soul nodded. "He did. He's a good pony like that."

I softened my expression. "Do you need a hug?"

"Always, Soarin', and I've got extras if you need one, too."

I chuckled. "Yeah, sure." He stood up and moved to me slowly, then gave me a big hug. For such a small pony, he was very good at it. "Thanks, Soul."

"Pleasure's all mine," he said as he sat back down. "Would you like to get right into the homework, or would you like to talk about the breakup?"

I looked out the window at the tree that Gentle Soul kept perfectly groomed. It reminded me of Braeburn, and the words came easily. "I love him. I always will, and most of all, I'm happy that he'll be happy." I turned back to him. "And I think that's what it comes down to."

Gentle Soul smiled back at me. "Then that's good enough for me. Anything else you want to cover before we get started?"

I could almost feel Dad's letters calling to me. I'd brought a few along, just in case. They were good reading material, right? "Yeah. Think you could help me work out some daddy issues?"

"I'd love to!" he practically shouted. He leaned in and purred, "But just to be clear, are we talking leather and mustaches? Or actual fathers?"

I snickered. "The latter. Sorry."

"Ugh, it's never the good kind." He flashed a smile. "But I'm happy to listen all the same. What's on your mind?"

We sat down, and I told him about Mom and the letters and how it was affecting me. And of course he latched onto the one about Hank. He asked. "Do you think your father approved of you?"

"Heh. You kidding? He freaking loved me, and he came around, but… there's so much I want to ask him, you know?"

Soul took down a couple notes and nodded. "You've mentioned that you talk to him sometimes, right?"

I looked down at my hooves. "Yeah, but he hasn't been saying much these last few days. And it's… weird. Ever since I started reading the letters, it's tough to hear him. He sounds so different when he's talking to Mom, way different from what I remember. Or…" I mumbled. "…what I think I remember. Like, he seemed vindictive towards her, and he had this whole secret communication thing going on, but he kept her from me. And that's… not right, I guess?"

Gentle Soul listened and nodded, and with a much calmer voice than I was used to, he asked, "Forgive a silly question, but what do you mean? What wasn't right?"

I ran a hoof through my mane. "I could have had a mom my whole life. It wouldn't have been ideal, and maybe it would have messed me up in other ways, but… why did he think this would be better?" I stumbled over my own tongue as I tried to put it all out there. "Washe– Was he arrogant? What was he thinking? And maybe he was right and knew more than Mom did about what was happening with me. I dunno."

Gentle Soul sighed. "It's tough having our perspectives changed, isn't it?"

"Exactly! Dad wasn't perfect." I looked up at him. "It still feels weird to say that. I was defending him tooth and hoof just a couple days ago, like he could do no wrong, and now here I am trying to figure out who the hell he was and what made him a real pony instead of whatever I remember of him." Words flew out of my mouth, and I rocked back and forth. "And I went through the same but, like, opposite with Mom, where now maybe she's not as bad as I thought, but I can still talk to her if I want to, you know? Dad…" The room seemed to darken. "Dad's gone. I have these letters of him, but the more I read, the further away he seems. But I can't stop, because I want to know about him, and these are all I have left of that side of him. But he seems like a completely different pony." I felt a hole in my heart, and I suddenly slowed down. "And I… don't know which is real. I don't want to lose him again."

Gentle Soul watched me, and only after I was quiet for a few beats, he asked, "Is it possible they're both real?"

I sighed and counted a few breaths. "Maybe, but how the hell do I reconcile them?"

He leaned in. "Maybe we can try together. Did you bring any examples today?"

"Yeah. I don't know what's in them, though." I grabbed one from my bag. "Do you–"

Gentle Soul shook his head. "No, it's good practice, especially under stress. You go on, dear."

I took a few breaths. "Okay." I opened the letter and read. "Jet, I don't know if you read these anymore, but the Sunny Sun Cele–" I felt my cheeks flush and the heat rise to my neck. Gentle Soul didn't say anything, but I closed my eyes, took a breath, and mentally forgave myself for the mistake, just like he'd taught me. "–Summer Sun Celebration went well. Our son was spectacular, and I hope you're at least taking time to read the tables." I grunted, then went through the same exercise. "Tabloids. I don't expect much, though." I shook my head. There was a bunch left, and I seized up thinking that I might read another one where Dad sounded petty. I looked up at Gentle Soul. "Sorry, this is hard."

Gentle Soul spoke with his usual bounciness. "No, no need to apologize! You're doing well. It sounds stressful, and you're keeping up your exercises."

"But see! This is what I mean." I slapped the page down on the table. "Dad was always patient with me, and he would never let me snipe at other ponies like this. I've never heard him act like this in real life."

Gentle Soul thought for a moment. "I think your father – what was his name?"

"Skywise," I grumbled. It felt like giving up another piece of him.

"Skywise had feelings, too, and if your mother left abruptly, it probably took a big bite out of him." He lowered his head. "Celestia knows I'm the last pony that should be lecturing about gender norms, but a lot of my stallion patients compartmentalize to an unhealthy degree. I've seen you do it, too, when you didn't want to talk about Braeburn, Soarin'. You wanted to keep that box away from all the others. And disclaimer: everypony does this, including a lot of mares and those that fall outside the binary, but I see it in stallions especially. Do you think your Dad might have done it, too?"

I paused and thought. "He… always wanted to protect me. He never wanted me to be sad or feel alone. Or abandoned. It… makes sense, I guess. He wanted to keep all those things away from me." I shuddered. "But it doesn't work like that. Mom said he could be controlling and let his desires blind him to what was in front of him." I shook. "Dad couldn't protect me from that. Hell, if anything, he just reinforced it in me. I didn't fit neatly into one of his little boxes."

Gentle Soul shook his head and pursed his lips. "I've never met a pony who does."

I waited for more, and then I nickered when nothing came. "Doc," I said flatly, waving my hooves like I was trying to draw something out of him. "I'm looking for some kind of breakthrough here, but we're just talking about boxes. Got anything?"

"Soarin', unless you want to know what look for in a marital aid, I don't know if I can give you any mountaintop moments of revelation." He leaned in and whispered, "Though if you do, I can blow your mind." He flashed a smile and settled his voice down, nodding back at the paper. "I sometimes guide my patients through speaking with their loved ones, but that's a technique I think you're already familiar with. When was the last time you tried talking to him? Really talking and listening?"

I sighed. "Saturday. He… didn't say anything back. At least, it didn't seem real if he did."

"Do you think you were ready to listen?"

I thought back. "No. No way."

"I can guide you through it again if you think you're ready now."

I shuddered just thinking about it. "But… what if it won't work?"

Gentle Soul nodded. "Then let's work on something else. But Soarin', if you find a quiet moment this week and it feels right, please try again." He put a hoof on mine. "I'm not making it homework, because I don't think you should force it, but be open to it." His voice was calm and smooth, so different from the clinical precision of his husband. I appreciated the gentleness. Heh. Yeah, I know. His parents picked a good name.

I let that thought settle in my brain, and deep down, I believed I'd have my chance. "I will, Doc." I looked down at his hoof, then back up at him with a smile. "And thanks for everything, especially the borderline sexual harassment."

He winked. "I'm good at what I do."

We finished our session, and I got a few new activities to do. Plus, I told him I'd been reading more of Whitewing, and he was ecstatic. As I left, I bumped into Doctor Radiant Hope in the hallway, carrying a well-manicured picnic basket. "Oh, Soarin'! Happy to see you. Are you well?"

I thought, then responded. "Yeah. I think I'll be okay. Your husband's right – he's good at what he does."

"Isn't he, though?" Radiant said dreamily. "A little single-minded at times, I'm afraid. He didn't pack his lunch today, so I brought it for him." He held up the basket.

I smiled. "I'm sure he'll love it. Take care, Doctor."

He smiled back. "You, too, Soarin'."

I watched him walk into Gentle Soul's office, and after the door closed, I peeked through a tiny gap in the frosted glass. I could feel the way they both lit up as they saw each other. Radiant Hope walked with more bounce in his step, and Gentle Soul moved with a fluid grace I'd never seen in him. I stayed just long enough to watch them kiss deeply, content that I'd gotten just a little bit of extra therapy.

Thinking about Dad weighed on me all through Monday's practice. We were reusing most of our Cloudsdale routine for Horsemouth's show that weekend, so it was mostly a matter of core training and tightening up the harder stunts. Dad gnawed at me the whole time, of course, and I grabbed dinner with Streak and Spitfire that night, grateful to have the company. Tuesday was weight training, which as least allowed me to count my breathing out loud without seeming insane.

I had my moment Tuesday night. I'd read half of a chapter of Whitewing – there were only about three-and-a-quarter left, plus an epilogue – and even though my head hurt a little from the strain, I closed the book, felt something in my chest, and nodded to nopony. Before I could hesitate, I grabbed another letter and sat in the parlor.

Jetstream,

First, congratulations to you and Nimbus. Twister is a great name.

I don't really know why you're telling me, though. I plan on keeping Soarin' out of it. He's got plenty on his mind with the new promotion.

I guess there's nothing else to say. I hope you're as proud of your foal as I am of mine.
–Sky

That was all there was to it. My wings drooped. "I'm her son, too, Dad," I spat.

The air hung thick. I looked around, and more words bubbled up to my mouth. I held them in as I scanned everywhere, picked up the picture of Dad and me that I keep in the parlor, and thought, 'We're doing this now, aren't we?'

I sat up and set the picture against the foreleg rest, then I sat on the opposite side of the couch and stared at it. My brows furrowed. "Yeah," I said with a rough voice. "We're doing this."

The picture didn't say anything to me, but I was beyond waiting for him.

Sitting up straight and brushing off the cold feeling of intimidation, I cleared my throat and said, "You've got a hell of a lot to answer for, Skywise. Mom told me about the custody battle." I looked away and sneered. "You just fucking knew what was best, didn't you?" When I realized I wasn't making eye contact with the picture, I jerked my head back to him. "But you didn't ask me what I wanted. You didn't consider Mom's feelings, either." I shrugged, and my face pulled in tighter. "I mean, I get it, Sky. You were probably tired too, right? Right? And you were being emotional and rash, but–" I threw my head back. "Ugh!"

The picture hadn't moved.

I put a hoof to my temple and mumbled, "This would be a hell of a lot easier if you were here, Dad." My fur prickled at the thought of me yelling at a piece of colorful paper behind some glass. I ran my hoof through my mane and pressed down on the back of my neck. I snarled, "So fucking say something!'

He didn't.

"Fine! Guess this is how you want it." I scoffed. "Feh. That's how it always was, though. I mean, controlling? Controlling?" I threw my hooves in the air. "Controlling! She said 'controlling,' specifically. Just like me. Like I was with Braeburn. I thought that was her fault, Dad! You let me think that." I wanted to puke. "Fuck, you wanted me to think that, didn't you? This was all part of the game, wasn't it?" My eyes watered, and my voice lost some of its power. "Wasn't it?"

My back was stiff. I turned to the window. It was still sunny outside, but I could barely see it.

"You're not even here to defend yourself. Not really." I shook my head. "We should have talked about this sooner. I should have asked, and you should have brought it up. We had millions of chances." My chest felt hollow. "Millions of them. But now we don't." My voice wavered. "We d-don't get to talk about it, ever. I'll never know what you were thinking." A few tears ran silently down my cheeks. I quickly dried them. "Never. Never."

I looked back at the photo. Dad stood there, the same as always. My head shook, and again, I whispered, "Never." The air weighed down on me, and I thought, 'I don't want this to be our relationship, Dad.'

I picked up the picture and lay on my back. I traced his face on the cool glass, and all the bile drained away from my words. "It hurt you, too, didn't it, Dad? Seeing her move on. Like we weren't good enough." Dad didn't move. He still looked so proud in the picture, but I felt like I could see beyond it, to the pony that felt inadequate and always worried that he'd screwed me up. "Why didn't you get it? You were good enough, Dad, even if you weren't perfect. You didn't need to shut her out. Or prove anything."

I set the picture on my chest next to my heart and stared at the ceiling. Dad had always put on a strong face in front of me. I missed it, but even more, I missed seeing him when he wasn't so strong. I remembered the night we'd gone stargazing, when he'd talked about how scared he was that he'd messed me up, after he thought I'd fallen asleep. It was one of the few times I'd seen him like that, and I wondered just how often he'd worried about me when I wasn't looking. And I wondered how much he had blamed Mom.

I shook my head. "I… don't think she was trying to be malicious, Dad. I talked to her. It didn't fix everything, but… I got to know her a little." My chest felt heavy. "Even though you didn't want me to."

I still couldn't hear him.

"You shouldn't have kept her away, Dad. She was trying to reach out and fix it, not rub it in our faces. You scared her." I shuddered when I remembered Mom describing the custody battle. "She was terrified, Dad. You… messed up."

I pictured Mom trying to make contact with me and Dad blocking her at every turn. They were fighting all over again, but this time, it felt different. The heat rose in me, and I didn't hold it back. "You fucked up, Dad. I get that you wanted to protect me, but you waaaaay overcorrected." Braeburn flashed across my mind. "Because have you freaking seen me? Every time I meet a pony that gets me, I keep them at wing's length, just like you did for me, and now I have no freaking clue how to let them in, and the one time it almost worked, I completely fucked it up! That's what you taught me." I shook. "You didn't mean to, and I get that, but you did. You're a big part of the reason I'm like this! Braeburn and me splitting up wasn't all Mom's fault. You never taught me how to trust other ponies." I calmed just slightly. "And maybe you didn't know how. But you didn't need to put me in a box. I think I get why you tried, and like… I'm not blaming you for my mistakes, but… you shouldn't have done that. You made a mistake, Dad."

And through the quiet, in the back of my mind, I could hear him say, "I'm sorry, Stormcloud." It sounded like him, like I remembered, but it sounded tired and heavy and sad.

But I couldn't just drop it. "I forgive you, Dad, but still, like, what the fuck?" I smirked at the picture. "And I'm not apologizing for swearing. I've earned this."

With a sigh, I closed my eyes and counted a few breaths. "You did your best, and you did a pretty good job, I think." I looked back at the photo. "I just wish either of us knew how to actually solve relationship issues instead of ignoring them. Maybe I've started. I dunno." My head rolled to the side. "I guess I figured it out with Braeburn, more than you ever did with Mom. Heh. I think that means I beat your record, Dad." I shrugged. "Maybe that's all I can really expect, to do just a little better than you did."

I let out a long groan and closed my eyes. The air felt a little fresher, like after a massive thunderstorm. It had that little bit of residual electricity that threatened to tear the sky open all over again, but breathing it in and out filled me with cautious ease.

Dad sounded calm but reserved. "I'm proud of you for talking to her, Soarin'."

I sighed. "Yeah, I'm proud of me, too. I know Braeburn is, too, wherever he is. I still don't know what's going to happen with Mom and me, but I'm going to try to make it work. Twister and Cyclone sound cool, too. I hope I get to meet them someday." I smiled. "Gimme time. I'll figure it out, even if I never find another pony like Braeburn. Or maybe I will. Who knows?" I smiled. "And I never got to ask: what did you think of him?"

Dad didn't answer.

I chuckled, "C'mon, what do you got?"

Still nothing. The silence tugged at me as it drew out longer and longer. It grew into a heavy weight that pressed down hard on me. I mentally reached out, searching for his answer, but it never came, and I understood why.

I hugged the picture to my chest. My voice was low. "I… guess I never get to know, do I?" The picture frame felt cold and small and inadequate. "You're already gone."

I looked outside again and remembered all the good times with Dad. Flying lessons, school sports events, the Academy… He'd always been proud of me, always been patient with me. He'd always given me another chance. I could do the same for him. "I forgive you, Dad. For leaving. And for what happened with Mom." I smiled at the photo. "Just promise to never die again, 'kay?"

At the back of my mind, I could hear him say, "You've grown into a fine, mature stallion, Soarin'."

I chuckled and picked up the photo again. Dad's big, goofy smile was infectious. "Well, yeah. I had a good dad to teach me, even if he screwed up pretty majorly from time to time." I smiled and sat up. "Buuuuut I guess that just leaves me room to grow. Or something. I dunno. I should leave the metaphors to Gentle Soul."

"Heh heh. You're the light of my life, Soarin'. I love you."

I kissed the photo. "It's just like I said to Mom: I still love you, too, Dad."

I couldn't remember the last time I'd gotten the last word with Dad, but even if I couldn't hear him anymore, I could feel him again. I knew it would still be painful to go through the letters, but I felt ready. He was still there, supporting me, but for once, I felt like I was standing on my own, too, on his level instead of just looking up at him. I wasn't living in the shadow of my parents' disappearances. I felt like my own stallion, and I felt light as air.

Setting the picture back in its place, I stood up and walked to the kitchen with my head held high. The sun was still out. The world felt okay, and even if all the changes in my life had come in incremental, incredibly painful bits, I felt good. And as I stared out into the calm twilight, I knew only one thing would make the evening perfect. I smiled to myself.

And I went for a flight.

Dashing out the door, I soared to the edge of Cloudsdale, dipped my wings down, and dive-bombed over the edge of a cloud. My wings pounded against the air, daring gravity to do its worst. I rocketed past terminal velocity, then rotated my wings back and caught the air like a parachute. Like I'd bounced off a trampoline, I shot back up, using my momentum to propel me higher and higher, beating my wings in perfect time with my heartbeat, which raced faster and faster with every passing second.

With each flap, I felt the burn in my muscles burrow deeper and deeper into me, pushing me to fly higher. Heat radiated off of me, and I felt like a shooting star rising into the sky. The air grew thin as I raced the dimming sunlight, but even so, it didn't feel like enough. Something deep inside pushed me to keep going, inching me closer to that perfect moment, telling me I'd know when it was right. 'Higher. Higher! Almost there. Just a bit more…'

And then, I found it: the perfect moment. It's the moment your whole body releases its tension at once, where your brain suddenly goes blank and your heartbeat settles, where every one of your senses drinks in all that it can. I found that moment, and I let go. Gravity released me. I became weightless, and this time, I felt like I would never come down.

Every hair in my mane flowed freely. My muscles all relaxed, held up by nothing. No matter how my body twisted, it felt natural, like the whole sky was cradling me. And then, right at the zenith, the world was absolutely silent, and it was perfect.

I felt free. I felt okay. I felt fresh and new, like I'd come out the other side of an ordeal and won it all. Dad, Mom, the 'Bolts… even Braeburn. Even if nothing had turned out how I'd wanted, I was content with all of it, with every part of me, for the first time in my life. That moment felt suspended in time, and as I opened my eyes, I saw nothing but cloudless blue skies all around me.

I knew I wasn't invincible. It was the opposite – I knew how fragile everything in the world was, from the relationships I had to the ponies I cared about to even my own body, but that made everything all the more precious. I'd learned that the hard way, through so much pain and effort, but I felt it, suspended in the sky, with every fiber of my being.

And in some ways, it still feels like I haven't come down.

…

…

And…

I guess… now you know the story. I hope you understand where I was at and what that moment meant to me. And I guess that means there's… just one more part to tell you. I think I'm ready.

Yeah. Yeah, I am.

Thanks for waiting. It was important to get it all off my chest, important that you understand everything that happened leading up to it, how I'd felt and how I'd grown, and why everything that happened next happened the way it did.

You ready? I'm about to tell you how I broke my legs.

Chapter 49 - The Broken Mirror

There's something we tell our fliers every week: treat each show like it's your last, because one day, it will be. We want them to take that warning seriously, and I practiced what I preached. I gave it my all every time. Every. Single. Time. And I've never been more grateful than I am now, looking back at the Saturday show in Horsemouth.

I was stunning, Syn. From my entrance through a trapdoor in the upper levels of the stadium, to the ring of fireworks we flew through at the start of the second act, and even as the lights went out, I delivered.

The best part was a precision gauntlet right before the grand finale. It's a modified training exercise: a souped-up cloud generator is brought out, and five of us line up on the opposite side of the stadium. The machine has a bunch of different filters that it rapidly cycles through: walls, hurdles, targets with just a small hole in the middle, that kind of thing. It's all run and choreographed by a stallion named Stratus, from the 35th Division, and that dude's an absolute artist. Rather than speed, it tests our ability to fly tightly and accurately and adjust at a moment's notice. Stratus keeps the order a secret – we don't know which obstacles will come at us until they fly out of the machine, and that's why the captain is in front. I'm given the least amount of time to look at what's coming. It's tough, and if you've ever seen a 'Bolt really screw up a stunt during a show, it was probably during that section.

But that night, I stole everypony's breath away. On the first Over-Under, I timed two powerful wing flaps to vault over the low hurdle, then tucked my wings in and plummeted, narrowly dodging the high hurdle. Next, the machine spat out a series of rings, all off-center in different directions and angles, and each flap of my wings brought me just far enough to arch my back, tuck in my legs, and make it through. My heart raced, and I had to control every movement of every muscle in my body. It took that much focus to survive the gauntlet.

And all that work wasn't lost on the audience. Next time you're at the show, take a second to watch the crowd during the gauntlet. As the stunts get more and more intense, they lean further forward, mouths hanging open and holding their breath as they wait for one of us to screw up.

The Tube was next: a cloud tunnel that zig-zags and gets narrower towards the end. The crowd let out a rising "Oooooh!" as we worked our way through the dark tube, and I had to barrel-roll from a dead hover to keep from plowing into a 60-degree turn. Of course, as I emerged from the other side, I heard the crowd go, "Aw!" It had been Silver Lining and Wave Chill – they'd popped out at the turn I'd nearly missed. I smirked and mentally projected, 'Keep it together, 'Bolts. We're gonna knock 'em off their asses.'

The obstacles kept coming, relentless, and I could feel the crowds scoot forward and stand up as the clouds flew at us faster and faster. More rings, a corkscrew-spiral, a downward-angled tube… and besides Fleetfoot clipping one of the targets with an off-beat flap (which the audience didn't even seem to notice) and Blaze stumbling on a rapid hurdle, we were flawless. And I was the king of precision. Nothing could touch me, and I felt like I was in complete control of my body. It was the last time I'd ever feel that way.

Right before the last sequence, the clouds grew darker, and the announcer gasped into the microphone. "What's this? Why, those look like… STORM CLOUDS!?"

The audience half-gasped and half-cheered as little flashes of lightning burst from some of the clouds, growing more and more intense as the clouds grew closer together. The announcer doubled down. "What's going on? Is the machine on the fritz? This is getting dangerous!" I smirked as I rolled back and forth through a series of weave poles. The machine was doing exactly what it was supposed to, but the fear in the announcer's voice was very, very well-founded. By that point, they were real class 4 storm clouds, which are illegal to fly near in everyday life. We couldn't predict where each little lightning bolt would strike, but as long as we didn't miss an obstacle, we'd be fine. And if we hit a cloud…

Well, you can guess.

I squared my jaw and hovered backwards during a tiny break in the action, and my team did the same. With less than a wing's length between each of us, we readied ourselves and resynchronized our wingbeats.

Red lights on the machine flashed to life, and an ominous siren went off over the loudspeakers. The announcer was in full-on panic mode. "What are the Wonderbolts doing? The machine is in chaos! They're not going to fly through the storm clouds, are they?" The audience roared! "I hope they're ready, because here come the clouds!"

The technicians gave the signal, and reality slowed. 'This is it.'

The obstacles came at us hard, and I only saw the first two before I had to react: another Over-Under, dark and crackling, and the first two of an unknown number of rings.

I shouted, "Go!" We sped forward, and like taut strings finally being released, all five of us snapped forward in perfect synchronization. We banked upward in perfect sequence, then flipped and dove downward, barely tucking under the second wall. We sped through the rings, and my mane stood on end as lightning crackled from it.

There was a short break, and we regrouped until the announcer shouted, "It's overcharged! The machine's been overcharged!" It was a cloud ring: thicker than any of the others, with what was barely a pony-sized hole in the middle. It was a menacing black, and it churned with unstable power. We didn't have long. "It's going to blow any second!" In a flash, we launched forward, racing towards our target. The crowds screamed in excitement and heart-bursting fear, and as we approached, the announcer shouted, "They might just do it! They–"

And that was my cue. No captain leaves their team members to face the danger alone, so in the middle of the sprint, I rotated my wings back and caught the air.

"What is Soarin' doing!?"

The audience gasped and screamed and cheered as I looped upwards, my belly towards the sky. My nerves were shot from all the precision flying, and my lungs felt like they'd collapse. 'I've got this. I've got this!' In the blink of an eye, I was behind Wave Chill, at the back of the perfectly straight line.

The cloud thundered. Blaze powered through.

It swelled, and the hole in the middle shrank. Silver Lining passed through it.

"Fillies and Gentlecolts, look away! Soarin's not going to make it!"

A small crackle. More thunder. Fleetfoot dashed through.

A gasp from the crowd. Wave Chill ducked through the hole. The shrinking, unstable hole.

My eyes widened. 'It's too small.'

The realization dawned on me. I had my limits. I'd pushed my body as far as it could go, but it wasn't enough. I needed more. Even with the safety technicians, there was no telling what was about to happen. I was mortal. I was fragile.

I was a professional stunt flier, and there was only one way my career could ever possibly end.

I sucked in my breath.

One last beat of my wings.

One last push.

A deafening silence.

A flash of light.

…

And I unfurled my wings and smirked, just as the cloud behind me blew itself to oblivion.

"HE MADE IT!!!"

The crowd went wild, stomping and shouting and wailing and cheering, louder and louder, so loud that I couldn't hear anything else. And I swear to Luna, I didn't need to flap my wings. I was able to coast on the sheer power of their voices alone.

My team settled into a V-formation around me, and we took a victory lap. They could feel the buzz, too, and together, we felt perfect. Wave Chill offered me a hoof bump, and even though I knew I'd get an earful from Spitfire for it, I gave it to him. It was a nice distraction from the smell of singed hair coming from my tail.

The roar of that crowd still echoes in my mind. See, every city has its own sound. Horsemouth has a low, masculine rumble, and it booms more than almost any other stadium. As we cruised around the edge of the stadium, their cheers coalesced into a rhythmic chant. "Soar-IN'! Soar-IN'! Soar-IN'!" My heart swelled, and as I smiled, I blinked away a small tear.

We took our places for the finale, and as spectacular as it was, I'd already gotten what I'd needed: a moment in the spotlight, a time to remember and treasure that was all my own. The rest of the team rode the energy we'd built up during the obstacle gauntlet, and the audience never came down from their high as we did our final set of spirals, tight formations, and sudden disappearance in a flash of fireworks. They cheered for us, all the way through the second curtain call, and well beyond our final exit from the stage.

And freaking everypony wanted a picture with me at the VIP event afterwards. I was backstage in the photo area for almost an hour just posing and signing headshots and backstage passes. Twenty-nine out of thirty of the VIP ticket-holders showed up, and, well… Part of me held out hope that Braeburn would show up, too. That he'd have grabbed the pile of backstage passes I'd bought him and come on a whim, but honestly? I was more proud of him for not caving in. He was doing what was right for him, so I wanted to do him justice and live in the moment, in my own life. And I did. A blur of ponies gushed on and on about how much they loved it and how inspiring we were, and for the rest of the night, my body and my heart and my mind felt full.

My skin was still tingling as I toweled off in the locker room after my shower. I was still sucking in huge breaths, like I was so full of life that I needed an extra set of lungs. Smiling broadly, I slammed my locker closed, puffed out my chest, and spread out my wings. "Naaaaailed iiiiiit!" I turned to face my stallion team members, who all stomped in approval. Of course, they were also looking at something behind me, but I didn't notice until it was too late.

Fire Streak whipped my ass with a wet, rolled-up towel, and dude, he's got a mean crack-back. I let out a small yelp as the rest of the stallion team burst out laughing.

I drew my hind leg in and laughed along with the rest of them, then flashed Streak an evil grin and asked, "What was that for?"

He smirked back and walked past me. "For getting cocky."

Silver Lining chuckled. "I'd say he earned it, captain. That was a hell of a run through the gauntlet."

I flashed a broad, cheesy smile. "Thank you, Silver Lining. I'm glad somepony appreciates good work around here."

"Speaking of getting cocky," Wave Chill said, slinging a towel around his neck and leaning against his locker. "You colts have fun chasing tail tonight. Star Drop said she's gonna show me a good time, so I'm out for bar-hopping. You guys going anywhere?"

"Nah, I'm out," Fire Streak said, tossing his towel in the bin. "Spitfire wants to go see the city together, just the two of us."

Sightseer nodded. "That should be a good time. Horsemouth has a lot of great overlooks, especially at night."

I snickered. "You're saying they should go and see the sights?"

Sightseer laughed and rolled his eyes. "Very original, captain."

"One of a kind!" I said, holding my head high.

Sightseer stretched out his wings and turned back to Streak. "You two will have a good time. I think I'm partied out, though, and Vapor gets worried if I stay out too late."

A few of the others said they were busy or tired, too, and since we'd all gone out together after Friday's show, nopony felt bad about taking it easy. Everypony else had someplace to be, and as we said goodbye and broke off into little groups, Fire Streak and Wave Chill shared a look as their broad smiles faltered. Streak stepped closer to me and said, "You gonna be okay, bro? You can tag along with me and Spitfire if you'd like."

It… hurts to think how casually I took his question. Part of me wants to go back and scream at myself, "No! No! Go out with your friends! Have fun! It's your last chance!" But then, a lot of things feel that way, like I could have gotten just one more moment of happiness out of it if I'd been a smarter pony. The same thing's especially true of my relationship with Braeburn, and I've gone over each little mistake I made a hundred times. I talked to Gentle Soul about it, and he said that my feelings wouldn't be different even if I'd gone out with my friends that night. I'd just fixate on something else that wasn't perfect: not spending enough time talking to a particular pony, getting too drunk, not getting drunk enough, feeling awkward for three seconds at some point of the night… My brain would still tell me that I could have done something different to make it better, but that's not the real issue, even if that feeling tries to eat away at my soul. My last weekend with the team will always feel incomplete, no matter what I do.

So I shouldn't feel bad about blowing air through my lips and saying, "Nah, I'd just be a third wheel. You guys have a good time."

…

You don't need worry about me. It's okay. I made the choice that felt right. It's just one more thing I have to learn to live with, just like sleeping through most of the train ride home the next morning instead of talking to my teammates. Just like flying straight to my condo instead of asking somepony to hang out, and just like everything else I did during my last week as an unbroken pony.

I guess there's one thing I'm thankful for: it was a very, very normal week.

I took Sunday easy. I hadn't gotten home until early afternoon, and since everypony was going their separate ways, I was on my own. I dug through the list of recipe cards that Braeburn had given me, and I found a pair of recipes for chili and cornbread that looked intimidating but doable. Shopping for ingredients, prepping the vegetables, and actually cooking everything took up most of the day – holy crap does chili take a long time to simmer – but that soft, melt-in-your-mouth bread with honey butter, all dipped in that punched-up, Appleloosa-style chili… Mm… It left me smacking my lips, wondering if my stomach would explode from eating the whole pot. 'Maybe I can just feedbag it in bed tonight?' Fortunately, I wasn't quite that trashy. Even I have standards.

I stuck the leftovers in the ice box once it cooled, and after my stomach settled, I made myself some chamomile tea. I didn't feel like reading, so instead, I sat in the kitchen, breathed deeply, and let my thoughts drift.

I thought about my flying formations. I wondered how "Whitewing" was going to end. What Streak and Spitfire's foals would look like. The stadium full of ponies cheering my name. Little flourishes that I could add to the routine. Whether I could take up another hobby once I'd gotten cooking down. 'Maybe sewing? I can already iron, and those quilts at Sweet Apple Acres looked really cool.' I thought about different military uniform styles. The new crop of recruits. Where I wanted my career to go and what it would be like to transition to more of a coaching role once my body started slowing down.

And after around 40 minutes, I smiled inwardly. I couldn't remember ever sitting alone with my thoughts for that long without becoming upset, and I decided that it had been a good day.

Before I went to sleep, I remembered one more thing. 'Oh! Right. Fillydelphia show next week.' It triggered something in my memory. I dashed over to a neglected pile of paperwork that I'd picked up at the Academy, and sure enough, there was a fan letter tucked between the various reports and announcements.

The thing is, most of our fan mail goes through a pretty strict screening process. You never know if some whacko is going to start making death threats or stalk you or ask you for the fortieth time to go on a date, so it all has to go through some poor pony in a back office somewhere, and most of the time, we don't even get to open the envelopes. Every once in a while, though, we'll meet a fan that's special to us, and we want to make sure we don't lose contact. A couple years ago, management finally gave us an option: we tell them to draw a picture on the envelope – something specific, different for each Wonderbolt – and then the mailroom ponies know that it's safe.

And this envelope had my picture on it, with a return address from two of my favorite fans: Cobalt Breeze and her husband Sunburst. Maybe you don't remember them, but I always will. The day I'd been cut from the team, I'd gone to Bad Sun Rising. They'd recognized me there and, without trying, had made me feel better, just by graciously accepting that I wasn't going to be in the show. They hadn't been mad, and they'd still been super excited to see me. It might seem trivial, but when you're at your lowest, the tiniest act of kindness goes a long way.

Their letter wasn't long. Mostly they said they were writing because I'd asked them to hit me up before our Fillydelphia show, and the rest was a polite check-in and a few quick anecdotes about their vacation in Cloudsdale. They didn't expect me to remember them, but I absolutely did, so that night, I wrote a letter to the kind pegasus couple who'd picked me up when I'd needed it.

Writing that letter left me feeling ragged. I had to make it seem perfect, since even if they were trustworthy, I couldn't let on about my condition. With enough deep breaths and a few do-overs, I was able to do it, and when I'd finished, I had that satisfied feeling you only get after you do something kind for somepony else. Or when you have some alone time and just push all the right buttons. They're pretty similar feelings, honestly.

I left the envelope unsealed so that I could include a couple backstage passes. I wrote myself a note to swing by Celestial Hall the next day after therapy and grab them, and I set the envelope by the door so I wouldn't forget.

It was pretty late by then. I stepped out onto the porch and sat down to watch the stars. 'I've still got my fans,' I thought. 'I'm a very lucky pony.' The air was cool that night, especially for late summer, and I spent a long evening looking up at the big, blue sky, letting my thoughts drift further and further away.

…

There are… so many details I could tell you from that last week. Silver Lining was late to the team brief on Monday and had to do two-hundred additional laps. My wing ached after I strained it practicing on the Dizzytron. It was hot on Wednesday until the rain started at 2:04 pm, and two sets of dumbbells were missing from the weight room. I could go on and on and on, because for whatever reason, every little moment is etched onto my brain like pictures on a stone tablet.

These days, I have nightmares about that week. Not about anything specific that happened, but being back there, experiencing that week again, and remembering that it was all about to end. I don't want to keep dreaming, because it seems so cruel to know it's fake, but I don't want to wake up, because then I'll be back in this stupid, broken body. Either way, I lose, but… but I–

* * * * *

Soarin's pace slows considerably, and together, we stop in the middle of a roadway. It's nighttime now. The moon is a waxing gibbous, and it seems so much bigger up here. The rich, dark blue sky reflects off the cloud buildings all around us, painting them a mellow hue that glows softly as light disperses in the vapor. The only other movement in sight is the flicker of gem lamps inside homes as pegasi settle in after a long day of work.

I drink in the chilly air, invigorating and pure. It's like the first taste of winter back home, breath after breath.

Soarin' sits down, and I join him. He stares at my legs and frowns, and his voice becomes weak and sickly. "You get to walk all day, and it doesn't hurt."

My chest flexes, and I look down at my forelegs, sturdy and fluffy and ending in wide hooves that sport softly glowing horseshoes. There's nothing spectacular about them, but they carry me where I need to go, they help me write my notes, and I have, nearly every day of my life, taken them for granted. Not tonight. "I'm very fortunate."

Looking up, I find Soarin' staring at his own legs. His eyebrows are furrowed. Slowly, he lifts one foreleg, then sets it down, as if testing to see if it's real. The brace creaks. "I don't hate them."

My head cocks to the side. "Your legs?"

"Yeah." He lifts the other in the same manner, then sets it down. "They've taken a lot of abuse. Landings put a lot of strain on them, and you end up flexing them and drawing them in a lot to minimize wind resistance. They're usually the first things to go for a stunt flier, even before the wings, and it can be career-ending." He shakes his head. "But I don't hate them. They do everything I ask, and they've been through Tartarus and back, but they keep going. They persevere."

Soarin' looks up to the sky. Even sitting and with those braces, the silhouette is striking. His blue fur is nearly indistinguishable from the cloud we sit on, and his mane melts into the starry sky, as if his body and soul go on forever. He fades into the cool blue palette of everything around us, and I can almost see stars twinkling in his mane.

I look up to the sky with him. "They're not the only ones persevering, Soarin'."

The breeze is mild out here. Soft sounds echo across the Cloudsdale skyscape. Every time I blink, more stars appear above us, and as huge as the universe seems right now, every mote of life feels as if it's been masterfully placed, from the whole of the Equestrian landscape to the weary pegasus and the curious earth pony sitting together, looking up at the endless universe.

The silence is broken by a faint breath. "I'm not giving up, Syn."

I turn to see him looking at me, eyes brighter than the moon.

He smiles. "I got taken down from the height of my career, but it won't stop me." He looks skyward again. "I'm going to fly with the Wonderbolts again. I'm gonna earn it, too. Some honorary position isn't good enough for me. I've climbed the ranks before, and even with a setback like this, even if I'm getting late into my career and I'm nearly past my prime, I'll earn it back." He chuckles. "Heh heh. Plus, I wanna watch Streak sweat when he realizes I'm gunning for his spot as captain." He wipes his eye with a fetlock and lets out a quivering sigh. "I'll get there someday. I know I will."

He's a respectable pony, that Wonderbolt, more than I ever knew. I wouldn't be able to keep my spirits up after all he's been through. I don't know any other pony who would. Softly, I say, "May I be honest?"

Soarin' nods. "Please do. The world needs more honesty."

I smile. "I believe you."

His smile quivers wider, and he takes a deep breath. He looks me over again: down, then up, eyes scanning every bit of me and finally locking with my gaze. His face relaxes along with the rest of him, and he makes a point of speaking clearly. "Little pie. Wings and a parachute. Lower left corner on the back side."

…Huh?

I collect myself. "Excuse me?"

He sticks his lower lip out. "Whaaaat, you haven't been waiting for it? Check your notes." He lifts his nose, indicating towards my bag.

What is he getting at? I haven't used my notes for hours now.

Cautiously, I reach into my saddle bag and take out my notepad. I flip to the beginning, to my first impressions of him. 'Reserved. Putting up walls with humor. Unlikely to get much during first interview.' I snicker at that last one, then look up. "There's a lot here. Is there–"

He tilts his head back and smirks. I imagine what Jetstream must have looked like doing that. "C'mon, what were we just talking about?" He makes little circles with a forehoof, goading me, and speaks slowly. "I wrote a letter to…"

Oh. Cobalt and Sunburst. The paper crinkles as I quickly flip to that moment, the first time he mentioned Bad Sun Rising. Let's see: they were big fans. He gave them headshots, told them he'd be in touch, and gave them some sort of secret way to communicate.

My eyes widen, and I smile. "Oh! Haha. Of course." I look up to see that cocky grin. "Getting fan mail straight to you."

He grins. "Theeeere ya' go. Like I said: little pie. Wings and parachute. Back side of the envelope, lower left corner." He winks at me. "Better write it down, or maybe just sketch it."

I quickly begin scribbling and curse my lack of artistic talents, but then, I stop. I look up again. He's telling me now, and he's telling me for a reason. "You… want to meet again."

"Heh. Yeah." He stretches out his wings. "Least I can do for all the time you've spent listening to me." He takes a deep breath, and his voice stiffens slightly, like he's dipping a hoof into cold water. "And hey, the book idea? Not so bad. Might–" He blinks a few times and looks away. His voice is softer now. "Might finally be time to come clean." He reaches into his saddlebag and pulls out small sachet.

I finish my drawing and my notes. I have a feeling I'll use that secret method in the very near future. "Your secret's safe with me."

"Ha! It better be. It's a pain in the ass to get a new one." With incredibly meticulous, practiced hoof movements, he takes something tiny from the sachet and holds it up to his ear. His tone mellows. "But it'll be good, y' know? I've been hiding for so long, Syn." He tenses, then begins working the object again. "I don't want to do it anymore. Ponies might listen. They might want to hear the whole story, and maybe they'll get something out of it." Slowly, he pulls his hooves away and gently rotates his ear, testing the stud's hold.

It really does look beautiful like that, and I'm warmed to see him put it on in front of me.

I stand up and put my notes away. "That's why we do this, right? No matter how it turns out, some good might come from sharing what we've learned."

Soarin' smiles at me. "Right. Exactly." He stands up tall and looks down the road, a confident smile on his face and a yellow stone glinting in his ear. "One thing at a time, though. The future comes later. I still need to deal with the past." He jerks his head towards the ever-shortening road home. He sets his jaw, and though his body quivers just slightly, his words don't falter. "Let's finish this."

* * * * *

Fillydelphia. Friday night.

Like usual, there was a meet and greet for the VIPs before the show. And like usual, almost everypony showed up. There were a few that never seemed to make it early enough, which was a shame, but that didn't stop the ones that did make it from, well…

"We are JUST so HONORED that you thought of us, Soarin'!" Cobalt Breeze kept shaking my hoof, long past the point that it had started tingling. Her hoof was a pink blur, and her blue mane bounced with each shake. "I NEVER thought you'd send us tickets, but BACKSTAGE PASSES? We must be the LUCKIEST ponies alive!"

Sunburst finally lifted an orange hoof to stop her, and he flipped his blonde mane just before he nuzzled her. "This really means a lot, Mister Win– Hee, sorry, Soarin'."

I snickered. "No problem, guys. Glad you could both make it."

Cobalt was about to shout again, but Streak cut in, his ears flat against his head to shield themselves. "Hey, captain. It's about time for our guests to find our seats."

I nodded to him. "Thanks, cap–"

"Is that FIRE STREAK?" Cobalt's eyes lit up again. "CAPTAIN Fire Streak? We saw you fill in for Soarin' a few months back! You were PHENOMENAL!"

The conversation looped around again, but eventually, a bored-looking security officer shuffled the two of them away with the rest of the VIPs. I called at them, "Cheer loud! I know you will!" They smiled and waved all the way out the door.

The team left to get changed. The meetup had gone long, so we all had to hurry. As we pulled on our flight suits in the locker room, Streak commented, "Lots of VIPs tonight."

"Yeah, a little crowded, but that's fine," I said. "They got their face time. I just hope they thought it was worth it."

Streak laughed. "If Cobalt's excited now, then I'm terrified of what she'll sound like after the show."

I snickered and took my Braeburn stud out of my ear, then stuck it into my suit, gem side in. I'd gotten pretty good at poking the back into the seams so that it was practically invisible.

Streak grunted next to me. "You know, one of these days I'll have to confiscate that. At least stop being so blatant about it."

I shrugged. "Eh, it helps me fly better." That much was true, at least. "Besides, I never ratted you out about that lucky tail clip of yours."

He blushed. "That was only a couple times. And it wasn't jewelry."

I smirked. "Still against protocol."

He nickered. "Fine, bro, but at least pretend to be stealthy? Help me out here."

"You got it." I pointed behind him. "Hey, look! Spitfire's fitting her whole hoof in her–"

Streak slammed his locker closed. "Oookay, bro, I get it." He pulled his face mask on. "Let's get these colts psyched up."

I smiled wickedly. I knew what came next.

The team lined up when we called them, and Streak and I stood tall, stoic, just like we'd practiced. The locker room already stank like riled up stallion, and the air threatened to crackle with energy. I started out with, "Wonderbolts! Are you ready to give the show of your lives?"

"Sir, yes, sir!" Their voices echoed in the small locker room.

Streak boomed, "And will you uphold the honor and prestige of our esteemed organization?"

"Sir, yes, sir!"

Streak and I glanced at each other, smirked, and shouted together, "And will you attest that I am the better captain!"

Mouths opened, eyes widened, and Wonderbolts froze, slight smiles breaking across faces.

Streak feigned offense. "What's taking so long? I'm obviously the superior captain!"

I gasped dramatically. "What? I'm your superior, Captain Fire Streak, because I am superior!"

Together, we turned to our team, which was already starting to crack. In tandem, we shouted, "So which is it?"

I jabbed a hoof towards Sightseer. "What do you think, newbie? Who's better?" Sightseer hesitated, and I shouted, "I can't hear you, newbie!"

His tail twitched behind him. "Y-y-you are, sir!"

Streak immediately swooped in next to him. "Disrespecting a captain! That'll be fifty extra wing-ups on Monday, Wonderbolt!" Everypony stifled a snicker, and he turned to Silver Lining. "What do you think? Or are you still stuck in the Tube from last week's disgrace?"

Silver was ready. "You're both great, sir! The best team of captains we could ask for, sir!"

I stepped up to him and fake-glared. "Weak answer! Cowardice! That's a hundred wing-ups, Silver!" My head whipped to the side. "Wave Chill!"

Chill puffed up his chest. "Captain Streak's marefriend is the best, sir!"

"Buttering me up, huh?" Streak said. He scrutinized Chill. "Nicely done private. You've earned some R and R." Chill started to let out a sigh, but Streak cut it off. "After two hundred thousand wing-ups!"

We bullshitted for a few more minutes, our demands and punishments getting stupider and stupider, and when we both felt the team had loosened up, we lined up again in perfect formation. Streak shouted, "Wonderbolts, salute!"

As one, hooves stuck out and met foreheads.

I shouted out, "Wonderbolts, scramble!"

The wind whipped up. The fire was stoked. We were ready, and without needing to cue them, we took off as the Wonderbolt Stallion Squad, ready to conquer the world.

Iiiiiit was a little less exciting for me, since I was still only in the second act, but my heart raced along with the team all the same. At least I got to help critique. We were giving Sightseer more of an opportunity that week – or really, we wanted to push him hard and see what he was made of – so he was staying in for the whole show. Streak and I were going to switch off, so that I'd be fresh for the obstacle gauntlet again.

The first half of the show got off to a strong start. Everypony was precise, just like we'd hoped for, and Blaze and Silver Lining had taken the notes we'd given them well. I watched from my viewing area just off stage, hidden from most of the audience and with a clipboard in hoof. It was tough writing so quickly, but as we'd learned over the previous weeks, I could more or less interpret what I'd written in the moment. On the plus side, Spitfire didn't make fun of my hoofwriting anymore.

Between stunts, I snuck glances to the VIP section. I spotted Cobalt Breeze and Sunburst late into the first act, and even if I couldn't hear them, I could see from the flattened ears around them that they were cheering as loudly as they'd promised. I smiled.

And I frowned when I saw an empty seat near them, a seat belonging to a pony that wouldn't show, that shouldn't have shown. It was Braeburn's seat, the one that I'd gotten him a season's worth of backstage passes for. My heart ached, and a small part of the back of my mind told me, 'Maybe someday.' I shook that thought away and sighed. "I love you, Braeburn. I hope you're okay."

Intermission rolled around, and I'd gotten out of my funk enough to give the team wing-slaps as they dived backstage, out of breath. We spent fift–

…

Excuse me. Sorry.

We spent fifteen minutes stretching out and rehydrating and making sure we wouldn't need any last-minute changes due to sudden injuries. Everypony was ready, and nothing seemed out of place. Just like in Horsemouth, the team would enter one at a time for the second act, appearing in a burst of fireworks. The biggest difference was in Fillydelphia's stadium layout: the trapdoors were located between the lower and upper levels instead of at the rim of the stadium, and the technicians – who really just had to set the fuses and open the doors for us – were already in place. I'd been paired with Spotlight, one of our senior technicians, and I knew I was in good hooves.

After one last safety brief, I passed off my notes to Streak and Spitfire. Since I was appearing from a trapdoor at the far end of the stadium, opposite the main stage, I left first.

But as I turned to go, I felt a hoof on my shoulder. Streak had stopped me. Something rippled in the air as I looked at him, and I got a chill. "What?"

Streak frowned. "I… don't know. Never mind." He shook his head and held out a hoof. "Good luck out there, bro."

You can feel in your gut when something is wrong, and most of the time, I know better than to ignore it. Most of the time.

I smirked. "I don't need luck." I gave him a hoof-bump, which he half-heartedly returned, and with a final wave to my teammates, I flew to the cramped backstage tunnel that ran between the upper and lower seating levels.

Alone.

The lights were dim in that corridor. They were enough to see, but you couldn't risk letting the audience know somepony was down there with stray beams of light. It was a long walk, too. Fillydelphia has a huge stadium, and they knew how to pack it full. I could hear the thunder of hooves and feel the vibrations all around me as ponies rushed back to their seats at the end of intermission. In the dim light, I saw the remnants of spilled beverages that seeped through the ventilation holes, and I smelled the stale popcorn of hundreds of shows. Flying as silently as I could, I rounded the last curve towards my entrance place at the far end of the stadium.

A bolt of lightning shot up my spine, the same way it always did before I surprise a giant group of fans, and I landed with silent hooves as I saw my target: thirty meters in front of me, just outside the light of a dimmed gem lamp, sat my usual technician, Spotlight. He leaned against the wall right beside the trapdoor, motionless and in nearly complete darkness, next to the fireworks mechanism. I whispered, just loud enough to be heard over the roar of the crowd, "Hey, Spotlight! You ready for–"

But I was interrupted by a low, impossibly smooth voice that came from behind me. "Mister Windsong!"

I looked over my shoulder and squinted. A stallion dressed head to hoof in Wonderbolts merchandise galloped towards me. He had a large ball cap with our insignia pulled down on his face, and his wings were folded in tightly against a replica Wonderbolt jacket. Some aviator sunglasses – just like Spitfire's – stuck out of one pocket. He slowed his pace to a canter as he approached, breathing heavily. "Mister Windsong! I'm sorry to bother you, but I couldn't make it to the VIP event."

'Ha! We've got a sneaky one,' I thought. 'Somepony's getting fired over this.' I cocked my head and smirked. "Heh. Did you give security the 'can't find the bathroom' story?"

He paused, chuckled nervously, and mumbled, "Fuck, I thought I was being clever." I could hear the blush in his voice, which had a rich, thick accent from somewhere in the midlands. He walked slowly, like most star struck fans do, but as stepped closer, something seemed off. His steps were solid, not shaky. They were unnaturally slow. Pensive.

Deliberate.

I turned and sat. "Sorry, dude. We've seen it all." I thought I had – this wasn't the first time a fan had snuck past security, and I'd learned long ago that it was usually easier to just pacify them and send them along. "Need an autograph? You've got sixty seconds." Looking over my shoulder, I half-shouted, "Just a minute, Spotlight." Spotlight didn't answer.

"That's mighty kind of you," the stranger said, and I admit, I melted a little. His voice hit that sweet spot, and I shuddered and rolled my eyes back into my head. It was like chocolate, and it got a small tail thrash out of me. "And here I was fixin' t' give you a whole sob story."

I snickered as I looked back at him. "Sick grandmother?"

As he stepped up, I noticed how tall he was: around my size and with a similar build, but just a little more filled out around the shoulders and with slightly larger wings. With heaviness, he said. "Coltfriend in the hospital." He stepped closer. "He's a big fan, of course. Gave me his ticket so it wouldn't go to waste."

Closer.

My tail stopped moving. I sulked until I remembered that I was in front of a fan and perked back up. "Yeah, that probably would have worked, too. I'm a sucker for that kind of thing." My mind spun through all the things I would have done for Braeburn when we'd been together. If sneaking backstage and risking arrest would have made him happy, I wouldn't have hesitated. "Hope your coltfriend's okay."

"He'll come around." The stallion's voice took on an edge. "Worst part is that he's blamin' me of all things, even though I'm tryin' my best out here." He was less than five meters away. "You know how it is."

I sighed. "Yeah, I do." I shook it off. "Hey, you got a marker? I don't carry one, because, well, you know."

About a wing's distance separated us.

"Right here." Without looking, he pulled a marker out of one of his jacket pockets and gave it to me. "All yours."

"Cool. Thanks." I took it from him as the announcer's voice echoed with the pre-act warmup. "Sorry, I need to hurry. What do you want me to sign? Hat? Jacket?" I pointed the marker at his neck. "Badge, maybe? That's pretty typical."

He sucked in a quick breath, and then, after a long pause, he laughed loud. "Hahaha!" He wiped his face with a fetlock. "Yeah. Sure. This'll be good." He slipped the badge over his head and his oversized ball cap, then passed it to me.

As I took it, I said, "Sorry you couldn't make it to the meet-and-greet. There's another one after the show. And hey, maybe you can bring the coltfriend next time."

He snorted and growled, "Oh, that ain't gonna happen."

I rolled my eyes. "Chill, dude." I took the cap off the marker. "You said coltfriend, right?" I squinted at the badge. "Who do I make it out t–"

My eyes finally settled on the badge's text, and in the dim light, my blood ran cold.

The Wonderbolts in Fillydelphia
Saturday, August 3rd
Braeburn Apple

Time slowed, moving one heartbeat at a time. I couldn’t feel anything except the dawning realization that was rapidly overtaking my brain.

It felt like it took hours to lift my head, and when I did, I saw a snarling, scowling pegasus stallion whipping himself around. Every detail of his body filled in at once as he spun in place, raging like a tornado. And at each heartbeat, Braeburn's voice echoed inside my head.

'…voice is low and smooth.'

He growled, his body half-twisted away from me.

'Lean. Muscular. Broad hooves.'

His body was pulled taut, winding up for something big. He planted broad hooves on the ground, sending an echo through the tunnel.

'…and big, healthy wings that spread wide enough to block the sun.'

His massive wings flared out, stabilizing him as he pulled his hind legs in.

'…golden eyes that sparkle, even in the dark.'

As he sucked in a large breath, he looked over his shoulder at me, and I saw them: flecks of gold that shone through the darkness of the dim hallway, tainted with malice and shooting arrows through my skull.

He flexed, and I saw a color, beautiful and haunting and mesmerizing and alive and – most of all – angry.

'…and a coat that shimmers like wildfire.'

My jaw had dropped. I'd stopped breathing, and I finally gasped, "Bron–"

His rear right hoof connected with my jaw, and time sped up a thousandfold. "FUCKER!"

A ringing sound flared up in my ears, drowning out the roar of the crowd. My body flew into the wall. My bones felt like they'd been dislodged, and when my head hit the brick wall with a loud crack, the ringing shot up half an octave. My joints ached, like I was a foal's toy that was falling apart. Everything was out of focus, and I tasted copper.

And I had a splitting headache.

He was fast. As my body crumpled to the floor, he grabbed me by the shoulder. Before it even registered that I was moving, a forehoof came down on my face. I felt a scream in my throat, but I couldn't hear it.

He hit me again, sending a sickening, low thud through my head. "You wrecked him!" Another thud, and my heart skipped a beat as I realized that my eyes were closed and I hadn't even felt his hoof make contact. "You wrecked everything! You stupid!" Thud. "Fucking!" Thud. "Asshole!" He threw me across the small hallway, and a sharp pain shot through my wing and up my spine.

I sobbed.

'His coltfriend's in the hospital?'

…because I was thinking about Braeburn.

Rage flared up inside me, and I growled. 'He hurt Braeburn.' Lightning surged through me, but my muscles didn't respond, and I stayed down. 'I'll fucking kill him!' I imagined him doing to my Applebutt what he was doing to me, and suddenly, I couldn't feel any pain. All I could feel was white-hot anger.

When I felt his hoof on my wing, I flailed wildly, filled with fire, and threw him off balance. With a surge of fury, I leapt up and flared my wings out wide, eyes trained on him like a hawk chasing a sparrow. "I'll fucking kill you!" His eyes went wide, and we both knew: he was my prey, now.

I've never moved so fast in my life. I kicked off the wall behind me, both forehooves in front of me, and tackled him with the whole force of my body. We crashed into the opposite wall, and I heard something pop. I didn't know whether it was a part of him or me, and I didn't care. I jabbed a hoof to his throat with as much force as I could, and I didn't care if I was killing him. He choked and flailed. His eyes bulged out, and I found the strength to press even harder. "What a do uh Braebur!?"

And when my words didn't cooperate, the heat vanished in a single breath. I realized how woozy I was. My eyelids were fluttering. I tasted bile and blood and held down my vomit. The room spun, and somewhere in the background, I heard the fireworks shoot off and the crowds outside the tunnel cheer. It was all I could do to try and keep this one pony, this bad pony who'd hurt Braeburn, to keep him from hurting him anypony else.

But he flapped his wings, creating just enough lift to wiggle free. I took two hind hooves to the chest and reeled back as he stepped forward. "You stay away from him! Braeburn's my stallion!" He sucked in a breath through gritted teeth, and he barked through tears, "He's my Applebutt!" He kicked at me, but I narrowly rolled away and staggered to my hooves. He sobbed a raging, pained sob. "Braeburn's ALL I HAVE! I love him! I know he still loves me!"

I seethed, and for a moment, my vision cleared, even as I choked on the blood running down the back of my throat. I dived at him, trying to keep my thoughts straight. 'He won't hurt Braeburn anymore. I won't let him.'

…and I missed him completely. My skull felt like it was tearing itself apart, and I crumpled to the floor, screaming as pain wracked my body in violent, churning waves. Some of my screams were choked off by the liquid spilling out of my mouth. I couldn't taste anymore, and I only hoped it was vomit.

He cried and barked through gritted teeth, "You ain't gonna hurt him no more, you pathetic mother-fucker!" He loomed over me and grabbed my mane, pulling my head up. I couldn't open my eyes, and he screamed at me, "Don't you fucking get it?" He slapped my face and shook my head. "Applebutt needs a strong stallion! Deserves one!" He dropped my head to the floor and kicked me twice in the ribs. I barely felt it. "He must've been pretty fucking desperate to–"

"Bro, where the fuck are you?"

I knew that voice. I knew that I knew that voice. I just couldn't remember who it was.

The pony above me – the choked, crying voice – shouted, "Aw, shit!" I heard the rapid flap of wings. I felt the air brush against my face. I sensed a calm in my body that I didn't understand.

And I kept thinking, 'Hospital. I have to help Braeburn.'

I stumbled to my hooves, and that thought kept looping over and over in my head. I realize now that it was the only thing keeping me conscious – if Braeburn needed me, then I had to go to him, and I couldn't give in. But the rest of my body was in too much pain, and I wanted to fall asleep forever.

Streak landed with heavy hooves. "Soarin', who the f–" Streak sniffed the air twice. "Wait… Soarin', are you–" He lifted my chin. All the color drained from his voice, and he spoke in rushed, clipped whispers. "Bro. You're bleeding."

'I have to help Braeburn.' The stud poked my chest, and I finally opened my eyes. "I have to help Braeburn."

Streak shuddered in front of me, and even in the dim light and with his light coat, I could tell he looked pale. "I… I-I didn't catch that, bro." He gulped. "Sit down. Sit down! Stay here! I-I'll get help."

I shook my head. "N… No, I–" It felt like I was losing something inside me all over again. The words in my mouth felt like the words in the books: I knew they were there, but I couldn't grasp them. "No."

Streak looked me dead in the eyes and spoke very slowly. "Soarin', something's happened, and you need help. Think about your head. I need you to–" His words were fading behind the ringing in my ears.

But I understood his message. 'He wants to stop me. I have to help Braeburn.' With one fluid motion, I hooked a hoof around his shoulder and knocked him on his ass, much harder than I'd wanted to. I tried to say, "Sorry," but the word only half-fell out of my mouth. Before he could recover, I dashed to the trapdoor, where I saw Spotlight, unconscious but breathing, leaning next to it.

"Soarin', wait!" Streak took off after me, but with my head start, I was at the trapdoor by the time he'd stood up. "HELP!" he screamed, so–… so loud his voice cracked. "Security! Safety! Anypony!" But the thunder of the crowd above him was too strong. The show had started. I had missed my cue, and there was too much noise for anypony to hear. And–

Oh, f-f-fuck.

Through my haze, I-I kept moving forward, driven by one panicked, delirious purpose. 'I have to help Braeburn.'

…

I… once promised Braeburn that I wouldn't fly unless I was feeling one-hundred percent.

And I… broke that promise that night, and I'm going to pay for it for the rest of my life.

I felt–… Streak tried to latch onto me as I opened the trapdoor myself. He – my brother – tried to save me, but I kicked him away, and he stumbled back. To my left and right, dark blue fireworks went off, and the blinding light of the stadium flooded my eyes as I was met with a wall of cheers. The announcer said over the sound system, "Always one for suspense, here's Captain Soarin' Windsong! What an entrance!"

Captain S–…

The crowd cheered wildly, and if I'd been able to see clearly, I know I would have found the same ocean of smiles and bright eyes as always. My team was half a revolution across the arena, flying in formation. Streak was recovering behind me. Thousands of eyes were on me, and yet, in that moment, I was completely alone.

'I have to help Braeburn.'

As I took off, forward and upward to fly out of the stadium, I heard Streak wailing behind me, "Safety! Safety!"

With the first flap of my wings, the world fell away from me at what felt like impossible speeds. I rose higher, concentrating with all the brainpower I had left and forcefully willing every single feather to move. Everything became blurry, and every muscle and bone felt like it was being wrenched from my body, but I kept going. 'Help Braeburn.' I rose higher. Higher. I don't know if the audience was still cheering, but I was nearly to the rim of the stadium. I could almost see the hospital deep into the city, the one that, somehow, I knew I'd find him in. 'Brae…'

My wings stopped working.

My mind went blank, and my body went slack. I didn't even realize I'd stopped moving upwards. It felt like drifting through a starless night.

The audience screamed as I fell directly towards a section full of ponies.

And I had no idea. I had no idea that it was the end of my career. I didn't know that I was about to die. All I had left was a feeling, a feeling that Braeburn was in trouble, and that I was letting him down, all because my stupid head couldn't take a punch and my stupid wings refused to carry me. I began to cry as I hit freefall, and I faded in and out. Each time I blinked, I saw screaming ponies scrambling away from below me, both frenzied and motionless at the same time, and I thought, 'I'm so sorry.'

…

I was intercepted by a safety technician names Sharp Spotter. Metal clanged as we tumbled through sets of chairs and benches and across concrete steps, narrowly missing the audience members as Sharp Spotter wrapped his body around mine. For a few seconds, it was all so loud, and my body felt like it was being ripped apart. I wanted to die, just so I wouldn't be in so much pain.

But my body halted and collapsed in on itself. We'd stopped. Spotter writhed and screamed next to me, his face so close to mine. I could barely lift my head, and the first thing I saw was that my legs looked… wrong. I didn't understand them. They pointed in all the wrong ways, and I saw colors and sharp points that made me queasy. And they hurt. Sweet Luna, did they hurt, in a way that made me want to gnaw them off.

But that wasn't even the worst of it. As my head rolled back, my tongue hanging out of my mouth, I saw them: thousands of eyes and slack jaws, all facing me. They were frozen, terrified of accepting what was in front of them. Even the announcer wasn't saying anything, and you could hear each individual gasp of the crowd. The last thing I can clearly remember is that look, the one they were all giving me, and it told me the whole story. They'd all seen me crash into the stands. They didn't know if I was hurt, but they were all too afraid to ask. It left every pony in that stadium paralyzed, and, well…

I told you: I never liked the quiet.

'I'm sorry, Braeburn.' Tears burned my eyes, and the concussion took me. As my head fell back and the medics descended on me, I felt the stud poke my chest one more time.

Chapter 50 - Sensation

* * * * *

"Soarin'! You–" My fur has bristled, and I narrowly stop myself from screaming what I've just learned in the middle of a Cloudsdale street. My nerves buzz all the way down my stiff legs to my hooves, and my shirt clings to me through my cold sweat. I narrowly swallow my exclamation and glance around. Nopony is out but us, so I lean in with a harsh whisper. "You were assaulted?"

Soarin's eyes have gone dark, but even in the dim starlight, I see his pupils fixated on me. He broods without speaking.

I take a deep breath and step closer. "Soarin', why didn't you tell anypony? Why didn't the Wonderbolts–"

Flatly, he asks, "Do you really have to ask?"

I freeze, one leg lifted in a step towards him. My jaw goes slack, and a shiver runs down my neck.

Soarin' sneers. "They'd been through scandal after scandal with me, and fuck, they didn't even know what had happened. They didn't want to admit they'd let security fail, and besides, they didn't know better. By the time the media was forcing them to say something, they went with their best guess: chemical misfire with the fireworks. It's the sort of thing that just happens from time to time, something that diffuses blame so much that they can't pin it on anypony, and then the story dies." He shrugs. "And it fit. Spotlight must have been chloroformed or something, and the chemicals would have explained my wobbly flight pattern and late entrance – who's to say I wasn't just trying to escape a cloud of noxious gas?"

I set my hoof down and shake my head. My cheeks twitch. "B-but–" Focus! "But Fire Streak knew. He saw you bleeding."

"Fire Streak smelled me bleeding, and even then, he wasn't sure. Nopony was, and it messed him up bad." Soarin' meekly shakes his head. "Even now he's still convinced it was his fault, that he let it happen." With a wry smile, he adds, "He's lucky I know a good psychologist."

I feel pins and needles everywhere on my body, even in my tail. "Soarin', how could you not tell–"

"I had other things on my mind," he snaps.

I snap back, "But what if Bronze–"

"Big picture, dude. The organization has to protect itself. It's a symbol for all of Equestria, and as much as it sucks, that symbol has value. We don't have the luxury of making mistakes, but accidents happen. Ponies forgive accidents."

I frown. "But it wasn't an accident."

"Heh. I told you so."

* * * * *

'Keep breathing.'

It's the last, most basic part of our training. If everything goes wrong, no matter what the situation, we give our fliers one final directive: keep breathing.

As I sucked in a wet, metallic breath, I felt a small poke at my chest, and it reminded me that I wasn't alone. 'Braeburn, help me.' Every time my chest expanded, I felt it again, prodding me and keeping me at the edge of consciousness. I forcefully pulled in air, and a lot of liquid along with it, so that I could feel that poke again.

It all happened fast, but I remember every detail so vividly. My eyelids fluttered open and closed, and seeing my legs made me sick. Sharp Spotter lay in a heap next to me, still shivering. His voice was the only thing I could hear over the ringing in my ears. I wanted to scream, too, but my body wouldn't move, and I couldn't find my voice. My eyelids closed again. 'Don't lose consciousness. Keep breathing.' When they opened again, I could see the trapdoor out of the corner of my eye. Medics were dashing there to check on Spotlight. I saw the audience part like water against a rock, but soon, my view was blocked by the first responders that descended to us.

As I passed out, I told myself again, 'Keep breathing.'

After that, I remember… motion. A lot of it. It was familiar to me, but it all felt wrong, like I was at the end of a long, flowing rope that whipped me around whenever it curved. My body felt impossibly long, like my head was tied to the rope and my hooves were still back at the stadium. My tail was mashed against my ass, and the air tasted salty, then fresh, and then stale and sterile. I was lifted at some point, and there was so much screaming and yelling, a mix of panicked, blood-curdling shrieks and distressingly calm, direct shouts that flew across the edges of my perception.

The motion started again, and again, I blacked out.

The feeling was different by the time I noticed the world again. Everything was cold except for my middle. A breeze was blowing from somewhere, but I couldn't tell what part of my body it was touching. There were sirens. More calm shouts, all with the background of a piercing, ringing noise that I could feel at the bottom of my stomach. I was on my back, and whatever I was lying on – I think I was on a gurney at that point – it was moving.

It felt like I was falling, headfirst and backwards and going on forever. The air warmed as I heard a whoomp and felt a bump under the gurney, and then everything rumbled as the wheels passed onto a hard floor.

I… think I'd realized we were at the hospital, because I remember thinking, 'Let me see Braeburn.'

I could taste again. Still blood. With a groan, I wiggled. My back muscles were killing me, like right after you wake up from sleeping on it wrong. I mentally explored my body, and then I realized that I was shaking. Hallway lights zipped past us above, but I could only see the flashes through my eyelids. My eyes wouldn't open, and when I blearily, instinctively tried to shield them from the light with a hoof, a sharp, cold pain reminded me how badly my forelegs had been injured.

I tried to scream, and all that came out was a wet gurgle and a cough that felt like it was ripping my lungs from my body, and the motion still didn't stop.

A stallion's voice boomed, "Patient is conscious. History of concussion."

A mare's stiff voice responded, "Administer the coma scale."

"Yes, doctor."

My head felt like it was wobbling uncontrollably, but in reality, I think it was moving just a few degrees. Knots had formed all over my stomach and my chest, and I yelled inside my head, 'Stop being so calm!'

The stallion spoke clearly. I had no idea what he had said, and when I tried to answer, my mouth refused to move.

The nurse said again, "Soarin'! Can you understand me, Soarin' Windsong."

Like I was hoisting a cart of apples with just my neck, I swiveled my head towards him. My jaw went slack, and my eyes cracked open, but not quite enough to see, and for just a second, my body felt like it was all in one place again. I could tell where the two ponies were, but that clarity fled from my body as quickly as it had come. Before I could lose it completely, I responded with the first thing that came to mind. "Breathing. I'm breathing." My throat began to seal up, and sucking in another breath, I said, "Is Applebutt– Is Braeburn ok–" My head slumped back onto a stiff pillow, and the shock rattled my throbbing skull.

The nurse quickly rattled off diagnostics. "Four. Responds to name, eyes open semi-voluntarily."

The gurney slowed and turned a corner. The g-forces on that turn felt stronger than anything I'd ever experienced while flying.

The doctor pushed the cart again. She barked, "Good. Sensitivity test, now!"

"Yes, doctor. Stage one." There was a slight pressure at the end of my left, hind hoof that I barely registered, and I didn't do anything. "No response. Stage two."

Something sharp jabbed me in the same spot, like he was jamming a knife between my hoof and my skin. My hind leg bucked out, and I managed a very clear, "Mother-fucker!"

"Strong pain response."

The doctor said, "Good." She yelled past me, and I could feel the soundwaves ripple across my body and pound at my head. "Anesthesia! X-ray! Patient has history of concussion. Possible cerebral edema. Prep operating room for craniectomy."

I wanted to vomit. Even in my state, I knew that term: they were ready to crack open my skull if my brain had swollen and the pressure had built up. I wanted to look for a mirror, for something, just so I could understand what was happening, but my stupid eyes refused to open. Something black and vine-like gripped my heart, and I bellowed. "No! My head!"

"Shh, it's okay, Soarin'. You're in good hooves. Please relax."

'Who said that?' I thought.

I was dizzy. I threw my head side to side as much as I could, like I thought I could roll off the bed to safety. My neck ached from holding it up. I tried to keep flailing, but instead, my head started quaking, followed by my whole body. Bile rose up from my throat and mixed with the blood, creating a sour, vile flavor.

Two hooves grasped the sides of my head and forced it to turn sideways. Somepony wedged stiff pillows on either side of it. A tube dropped into my mouth, sucked away some fluid, and disappeared. My breathing turned ragged, and even as tears refused to come out of my eyes, I tried to sob. But I couldn't even do that. 'I'm broken.' I was in so much pain, but it was like the tears were caught in my throat.

Something was shoved into my mouth. A mouth guard, I think. My heart felt arrhythmic and like it was moments away from collapsing in on itself.

The world churned again, and we swung through giant double-doors with another whoomp. The thud sent a wave of vibrations through my body, and I nearly cried again. Nearly. I started to fade out. 'Keep breathing.'

Rrrrrrrip.

I forced my head up just enough, opened my eyes just barely, when I felt gentle pressure being relieved across my chest. I tried to crane my neck, but it was stuck in place, locked in with a strap that I hadn't noticed them put on. My visions was so blurry. All I could make out were basic shapes and colors, but I saw: the nurse was removing my flight suit with a pair of scissors, right up the middle. They were passing across my chest, right by the yellow stud I'd hidden inside.

"No! NO!" I mumbled around the mouth guard. "That's mine!"

The tears finally came. I tried to thrash around, but my legs were all tied down to something I couldn't see, and every time I tried, searing pain filled my whole body, like acid was being poured into my bloodstream. But I didn't stop, because as long as I was moving around, the nurse couldn't take him away from me. 'I need it! I need him!' My mouth had stopped working.

I tried to yell and throw the guard out of my mouth, but it was strapped down, too. I felt like a raindrop struggling against the sky, desperate not to fall. I knew I couldn't win, but I couldn't stop trying. And for the moment, I relished that they couldn't do anything as long as I kept moving.

"Anesthetize him."

"NO!!!" My screams had turned to hollow, powerless sobs.

I felt a quick jab to my flank, and my hind leg recoiled. A venomously soothing voice cooed, "Soarin', you'll be okay. Count back from ten. It'll be easier."

I thought I was dying. I knew I was dying. And I knew that if I passed out, I might never wake up. Every instinct told me to keep fighting, to keep breathing, but all too quickly, the poison spread. My flanks went numb, first one, then the other, and I felt my hind legs disappear like a cloud in the sun. My blood ran cold, then hot, then fuzzy. It felt like my blood was being replaced with soil, and dark, deadly plants were growing inside me, wrapping around each muscle and choking them off from feeling anything. My chest went out next, along with my wings. My heartbeat, which had been pounding for what seemed like hours, went silent. I didn't know if I was breathing anymore. I still couldn't see. The pain disappeared from my forelegs, and I would have given anything to feel it again.

I sobbed. I cried, because it felt like that was all that was left to me. I wailed, muffled by the mouth guard. Nothing in my body responded to me, and the dark plants crept up my neck. I sucked air through my teeth, or at least I thought I did. My throat went numb, and I couldn't even sob anymore. I had to try to feel the wind at my nostrils just to make sure I was alive. 'I don't want to die! I don't want to die!' My head fell back as the numbness spread to my jaw and the back of my head. 'YOU'RE KILLING ME!' Nothing came out. Nothing moved.

All I had were my eyes, and they felt heavy. I fought. I fought hard, putting everything into that last piece of me, but I had nothing left to draw on. Soon, my face was gone.

I was crying deep in my soul. 'Don't take it. I need my Applebutt. I need you.'

As my eyelids relaxed without my permission, I forced them open for just one more moment, just long enough to see a nurse lifting away a torn piece of fabric with a tiny, yellow stud tucked inside, and then, the world went dark.

…

So… here's the thing.

…

Comas give you some really, really fucked-up dreams.

You never know how much time is passing, and every single dream feels like it's going on forever. And you have no guarantee that it won't go on forever. I'm told I was lucky – I realized, at least partly, what was happening to me when I was out. Supposedly, I could have told myself that none of it was real, that I would wake up. Again, though, how the fuck would I know that?

The truth is, you don't know, and that's the scary part. I knew that what I was experiencing could be, at any moment, the last thought my brain would have before I flat-lined, and my dreams got absolutely visceral. They got nasty.

So, like… heads-up.

I think my very first one had me lying on my back in the dark, but like, I could see. I was screaming the whole time, but I couldn't feel my mouth move, and even if I couldn't feel pain, I knew I was supposed to feel pain, because whenever I looked down, I could see my skeleton ripping itself out of my body. It struggled against me, always getting caught up at my hooves, until it had ripped itself completely free and was floating above me. It left no wounds, but I still felt hollow. Then, it would start over again. I'd never see it go back in, just keep coming out, until it finally stayed outside me.

The skeleton floated above me, staring at me with its hollow, empty eye sockets for hours – literal hours – without doing anything, and even if I tried to close my eyes, I could still see it. I recognized the facial structure and the posture and the wing shape. There was no doubt about it – it was me.

And as scary as it was, I kept thinking, 'I hope Braeburn doesn't see this. He wouldn't like it.'

It started screaming at me. Just short shouts, like an infuriating chirp, once every few seconds, and it began floating closer to me. No matter how close it got, though, it never actually touched me, and it just kept getting closer, still shouting, and I couldn't look away, even as I felt dark hooves prod me all over.

They were Changelings. Insectoids, not even trying to hide who they were. A few bit into my skin in little parts of me, and they began wrapping me in a cocoon, starting with my forelegs. The skeleton kept screaming with perfect rhythm.

The Changelings must have gotten tired. They finally let go and disappeared after a day or so, or maybe it was just a few seconds.

I fell backwards again.

The skeleton floated above me in the perfect darkness, and its screams got more and more quiet. They didn't fade completely, though, and between its ghastly chirps, I heard it say, "I'm sorry," in my Dad's voice. Dad's form began to fill in, muscle by muscle around the skeleton, all the way through to his skin. I could see his frowning face, and no matter how much I tried, I couldn't look away.

And… I need to be clear: that was not even close to the most gruesome dream I had while I was under. I'm just trying to spare you from having to live through it like I did. Or maybe I'm just trying to spare myself. I don't… I don't want to go back there.

At times, I was semi-conscious. I could hear machines beeping and whirring all around me. Sometimes, ponies would come in, but I never knew if they were real or if I was just dreaming. But they would touch me. They'd jab me and stroke me all over, checking for Luna-knows-what, and they were not shy about it. I could make out conversations sometimes, too. The doctor would come in and ask how I was feeling, and I'd mumble a response. They hardly ever understood what I was saying, and they were always happy when my eyes would open, even just for a few seconds. I didn't see what they were excited about – I couldn't see anything at all.

And then, I'd slip back out.

See, that's the thing about comas that most ponies don't understand. It's not like sleeping – you don't just wake up and have everything get magically better the first time you regain consciousness. It's different for everypony, and for me, it was like being constantly groggy. I was never all the way there. Instead, it was like being in that moment right after you wake up from a nightmare: your senses tell you one thing, but your brain is completely focused on another. For just that split second, you're caught between two realities, and you don't know which one you'll land in. I was in that space over and over and over again. It was exhausting, and as much as I wanted to wake up, it was so easy to fall back into the darkness, just shy of being truly asleep.

There was another dream. I think it was the night after the crash, when I'd been in the hospital for over a full day. I was soaring through the air above Fillydelphia at night, around and around and around again. I wasn't flying, though. My forelegs were wrapped in these long, flowing bolts of fabric. It was a smooth ride, at least, but we were still always moving.

I looked up. There were faceless ponies, their backs to me and the bolts of fabric tied to their tails. I said, "Where are we going?" They didn't answer, so I called back, "Hey, where are we going? We've been doing this forever." They still didn't answer. I don't know anything about them, not even what they looked like. They were just husks: no color, no physical features, nothing.

I grunted and turned back to the city below me. Squinting, I saw that there was nopony in the streets. Or anywhere, really. The lights were all on, but even after fifty, a hundred long, tireless laps around the city, there wasn't anypony. My ears flicked. No sound, either. And no wind, and the more I thought about it, the more my skin crawled, and the more my fur itched. I couldn't move my legs to scratch myself.

With a nicker, I looked back up at the ponies. "There's gotta be somepony else–" My face scrunched up when I saw Fire Streak and Spitfire pulling me, racing through the sky. Not just with their wings, either, but with their legs, like they could pull me faster by galloping against the air. "Uh… guys?" They didn't respond. "Bro? …Sis?"

No answer, so I relaxed my head back. My heart skipped a beat when I realized that I would have had to turn my head all the way around to have looked at them, and my neck shouldn't have been able to do that.

I shuddered without moving, and as I looked down over the city, I spotted the hospital. I thought, 'Bronze lied. Braeburn's okay. He would never be able to touch Braeburn again, not with all the support Applebutt has now.' But with nopony around to reassure me, my thoughts looped through all the thing that could have happened to him.

I wondered if I was in the hospital, too. Not the real-world one, but like the one in my dream. It made sense to the groggy logic of my brain – I was still lying in the hospital, obviously, so I should go visit myself. I would have been lonely without somepony to keep me company, and who better than me?

After an hour of collecting my thoughts, I asked. "Could we dip into the hospital?" I looked again and frowned. It was my parents this time, and I already knew that they wouldn't turn around or say anything. In Dad's case, that might have been a blessing: I quickly looked back at the city when I thought I saw bones start to appear on his body. I sucked in a deep breath that didn't feel like it filled my lungs, and I forced myself to go back to worrying about Braeburn.

I gave up looking behind me after that, except for when it got too boring flying around the city again for the thousandth time (and I'm not exaggerating). For a while, it was somepony different each time, but then it started repeating, and so I spent hours lazily floating around the city with nothing much else to do.

It got… pretty lonely up there.

Every once in a while, the painkillers would kick in, and I'd feel like I was soaring higher and, weirdly, like I was in a little more control. And that was the scary bit. I knew that I was a drugged up mess on the outside, but it felt so good to let them take me away. It staved off the nauseous feelings I had when I was mostly conscious, and it lessened the constant vertigo and motion. But I didn't want it. I wanted to escape. I just wanted to open my eyes and just fucking look around. Was I in a private room? What color were the blankets? How bad were my legs? I had no idea.

It felt… so close, too. I was fading back and forth between realities that kept crashing into each other. I was never one-hundred percent in one or the other, and they kept bleeding together, leaving me on the edge of my nightmare.

Like, at one point, I was convinced I was fully conscious. I was surprised that I was able to actually roll over all the way, but then, I rolled right out of the bed and fell through the floor. It wasn't hard – it was made of cloud – but I fell right through. I kept falling while it rained unicorns and earth ponies with me, most of them on fire or just glowing brightly against a midday sky that shone with black light. At that point, I still didn't realize it was another hallucination. The other ponies all laughed and shouted at me, asking how it felt to fall through and not feel safe up there.

They weren't all yelling, though. Braeburn was there, falling with me. I tried to fall towards him, but I couldn't get the wind under my wings. Braeburn was crying. He was reaching out to me, too, but he was stuck far away. And he was apologizing, and I was apologizing, our voices torn away by the shrieking wind, and we kept falling and falling until Bronze – the only pony who was able to fly – swooped in and took Braeburn away from me.

I was so tired…

Heh. At least… when Braeburn didn't struggle against Bronze, I knew it was a dream. Night fell in that world, and I was falling alone.

Motion. There was always that damn motion, no matter which reality I was in. I wanted to stop, to just breathe, but I was always moving, with only the rhythmic groans of the stars to keep me company.

I felt every tick of the clock, and hours later, the noises around me grew. It was a buzzing this time. It replaced the ringing in my ears, and my heart iced over when I heard a voice that was just wrong. "It's jusssst Doctor Mender, Ssssoarin'. You up?"

'She's a Changeling.' My tail tried to swish. My eyes tried to open, and my wings tried to unfurl. None of them did, and I could feel her hard cocoon wrapped tightly around my forelegs.

She hissed, "You're okay, and you can relax. I just need another sample." Within seconds, she bit me right on the side of the neck. I felt cold as she drained me, and as I panicked without moving, I could almost hear other Changelings buzzing just outside of earshot. I tried to struggle again, but my body wouldn't have it.

"All done," she droned. "Did you feel anything?"

I hadn't screamed, because I'd forgotten I had a voice. My ability to speak only occurred to me after she'd asked. "Cold," I groaned. My voice buzzed like hers. "It hurts." I tried to figure out if I'd been replaced with a Changeling while I'd been asleep, and I wondered how they would have gotten one of them inside my own body.

"Cold, Soarin'?"

I thought about lying, but then, what did I really have to lose by being honest? "…Yeah."

She said something, but I didn't process it.

'Do Changelings get cold?' I felt a strong heat envelope me, and I drifted off again.

Sideways this time. Still moving, but at least it was a new direction. I fell towards my right side, and my wings were gone. I wasn't an earth pony, though – I didn't feel extra strength or anything. I felt like a pile of used nothing, still strapped to a bed that was upside down and falling sideways, facing the ground. I was in the desert this time, and from the sandstone mounds, I recognized the scenery as being outside Appleloosa. I could taste the sand and feel the grit in my fur as the ground raced below me. It was late afternoon, and even if the world looked beautiful and serene, my chest seized up as my eyes locked onto a yellow smudge that slowly came into focus.

Braeburn raced along with me, as fast as he could, about a meter below me between the bed and the ground. He was crying. And shouting. As I tumbled sideways, I could only hear a few words between the throbbing hoofbeats against the ground. "…don't leave me." The wind whipped at his red, puffy eyes, but he didn't look away from me. I could see him even though my eyes were closed. "…gotta stay with me, Blue."

I wanted to open my eyes, just for him. Part of me knew it wasn't real, but even if this Braeburn's concern for me was a hallucination based on a memory, I still wanted to see him smile. My muscles refused to move, though, and the more I failed, the more fatigued I felt.

I could feel him there, though. The short distance between us felt like it stretched on forever, and even if my body wouldn't move, I reached out with my heart. I arched my back and tried to fly closer through sheer force of will, and slowly, it worked. A little. As I thought harder and harder about floating downwards, my head felt like it was splitting in half, but I moved closer. The bed drifted towards Braeburn while he ran at lightning speeds, kicking up a giant dust storm behind him.

I was close. So close. But I couldn't reach him myself. For a moment, I wanted to give up on everything, on… life.

But Braeburn lifted his nose and touched my chest, and it felt like he'd draped a blanket over me on a cold night. I cried immediately, because I couldn't touch him back. Nothing I did could force my stupid legs to move. I strained against my restraints, and my bones felt like they had turned to sand. They ground together inside me, but I didn't care. I wanted to touch him, hold him. But I couldn't move.

Something dark clouded my vision. I whimpered, and dusk began to fall. Braeburn was panting and sobbing, and he was falling behind, but he didn't stop running. I strained and pulled and gritted my teeth against the pain and against what was happening, but night fell all the same. The wide open skies of Appleloosa's desert gave way to the same, rhythmic groaning of the stars that I'd gotten used to, and the scene went blurry. I wanted to scream anything that would let him know I was there, so that he wouldn't feel so alone or like I was abandoning him. I wanted to touch him more than I wanted to breathe.

So Braeburn leapt. Just as I thought he'd tumble to the ground and roll out of sight, he grabbed me around my neck. His legs dangled below me, narrowly skimming the dirt, and he clung to me tightly. For a second, I thought he was another Changeling, but then he wrapped his mouth around my ear, just like I'd done to him so many times. My eyes rolled back into my head as I let out a long, calming breath. The cold fear drained from my body, replaced with dizzying warmth. Braeburn whispered into my ear, "Love you, Soarin'."

And I shuddered. 'This feels real.' That thought echoed in my hollow head for a few silent moments. But I didn't know for sure. I didn't know if I wanted it to be real. It could have been another Changeling or a figment of my fractured brain, one of the realities crashing into the other. I wanted so badly for him to be there, but even then, in that space, flying sideways and restrained, I knew my brain was injured. I knew that Braeburn might really be there, or he might be in a hospital bed half a day's journey away or even back in Appleloosa. Was it real? Or was I fooling myself? And what would it even mean for him to be there? How would he have known I was in trouble? How long had it even been?

And… It couldn't be healthy for him to see me so soon, right?

In the few seconds he clung to me, I decided. I… I didn't want Braeburn there. I didn't want him to worry, to see me like that. I didn't want him to know what had happened or to blame himself. I wanted him to be safe, and so I sighed and let my body go slack. In some ways, it felt like giving up, but in others, it felt like I got to free him again. Wordlessly, Braeburn let go, too, and before long, the dust behind him settled, leaving me alone in the dark desert.

It felt like saying goodbye all over again. Nausea overtook me, and I finally had some control of my body again. I pulled as much air into my lungs as I could, and I screamed so loudly I thought my throat would rupture. But it was silent. Everything was. I screamed again. No sound. Nothing. The quiet echoed across the sands, bounced off the hills, and came back to me in the unnerving stillness.

For what felt like hours, I didn't hear a sound.

I thought, 'This is it. This is how it ends. I stay trapped here, in and out of a coma forever, and I don't even get to know what's real.' I kept screaming silently, cursing myself and wishing I was dead.

I heard above me, "I'll be right here, Big Blue."

'Dammit!' I screamed in my head. My chest tightened. I just wanted to know. I had to know if it was real.

My blood boiled. I felt delirious, guided by nothing but my instincts. I felt him above me or behind me or somewhere, and I had to know if it was really him echoing across the deep blue sky. I tried to thrash my body again, to do anything to turn the bed upright, but nothing worked. I gulped air like I was drowning, and I screamed again, trying to force the bed around.

If I couldn't figure out if he was real, then I knew I'd never get better. I wouldn't want to get better, but if there was a chance that Braeburn was there – if there was a chance that I could find out if it was real – then I had to take it. I focused all my willpower. It felt like joining a puzzle together using just my tail and with half the pieces missing. I tried to move my body again, and it refused, but I didn't stop.

"Love you, Blue."

It stung. There was no proof that it was real, and no real reason left to hope. I told myself that I was setting myself up for disappointment, that Braeburn and I had broken up and that he needed to be far away, where he wouldn't worry about me, and that it didn't make sense for him to be by my side so quickly. But I couldn't stop myself. I had to know. I had to chase that voice.

With a silent, guttural shout, I yanked the bed with my right foreleg. It sent shooting pain all through my body, but all that did was make me want it more. As I focused, the bed finally began to rotate, or maybe the whole world spun around me, and my heart fluttered as I felt like I had the slightest bit of control. I heard him above me again, and with more soundless yelling into the void, I righted the bed and saw the stars.

They were beautiful, but there was one in particular that I focused on. Hope welled in my chest. Tears flew from my face in zero-gravity bubbles, trailing to my side. I didn't need my wings to fly. The bed began to move upwards towards a sparkling, yellow star. My momentum shifted, degree by degree. I wasn't just falling sideways anymore. I was falling sideways and slightly upward. I felt nauseous, but I kept pulling, and then, I was going upwards just a little more. Each little shift rattled my skull and seared my brain. I wanted to quit – it hurt so much to keep forcing myself upwards. It was like a vice on my head, squeezing my perceptions into a condensed black hole of pain, but I needed to know if that yellow star was real.

And it grew brighter as I pulled the bed further upwards. The closer I got, the more the fear raced through my blood, cold and merciless. 'He has to be real.' I pushed all those doubts away. 'He's real. I'm coming, Braeburn.' I felt warm again, and I sensed pain all through my body, but I picked up speed. The star grew brighter, bigger. It filled my view as everything else fell away behind me. The searing pain burned stronger as feeling came back to my body, and I embraced it. I wanted my reality back, even if it hurt. I wanted the golden pony who was waiting for me.

And soon, I reached the star.

It was like hugging the sunrise – beautiful and burning and complete. I felt the fire burn away all the false realities, all the falling and the motion and the Changelings and the fake cities and the faceless ponies. It left nothing but my own reality, and for the first time in days, I fully opened my eyes of my own accord.

I sucked in a breath as it all took focus, like I was being born again. Moonlight shined in through the curtains of my hospital room. At either side of my vision, I could see my forelegs, held up and fixed with casts. To the side of my bed, machines blinked like stars and beeped with rhythmic groans that matched my heartbeat. But I didn't care. I smiled as my eyes focused. I was ready for him. I knew he was waiting for me. I'd heard him. He loved me, and he'd come for me. I took in another deep breath, smiled as wide as I could, and looked. And Braeburn…

…

…wasn't there.

Chapter 51 - The Last Goodbye

I blinked. I blinked again. And again and again. My teeth chattered. My breaths were shaky and choked. Without thinking, I raised my head the little that I could and slammed it back against the bed with a thunk, trying to slip back into the coma and force this reality away. But I didn't pass out. I breathed in shallow, rapid breaths, and the machine next to me beeped faster and faster. I did it again – thunk – then a third and a fourth time – thunk-thunk – but everything was still the same.

I felt lightheaded, and I couldn't keep track of my thoughts. 'Is he at a different hospital? He's hurt, or he'd be here. Why isn't he here?' My jaw clenched. My face twitched. I was sweating, and my pulse felt out of sync with itself.

I sucked in one more giant breath and clenched all my muscles. 'I have to help him. He needs me.'

My forelegs were suspended up on either side of me. I pulled down on them, but a sharp pain shot through me, and I realized how numb they had felt just hanging there. I couldn't move them far. I was in some kind of restraints, and I felt faint as I saw my legs wrapped in casts again. Involuntarily, my wings tried to flare out and flip me over, but they had been strapped to my body, too. If I'd been in my right mind, I would have known it was to prevent me from hurting myself, but all I could think was, 'I have to get out! He needs me!'

I didn't care that I was restrained. I didn't care that moving my forelegs made every bone in my body sting and every nerve flare to life. I tried to turn my head and look around, but it was still stuck between those stupid pillows, and in the middle of the night like that, it was too dark to really see anything. 'I have to find him!' I gritted my teeth, and I yanked my forelegs downward, as hard as I could.

Pain – so intense that I couldn't breathe or scream – then nausea, then nothing. I grunted and whined as tears stung my eyes. "Hmmf!" My voice barely worked, and I could barely open my jaw. I arched my body and tried to force my wings out of their restraints. Cool air rushed across my sweaty back. I kicked my hind legs, but my range of motion was so limited that it barely made the bed squeak. In my desperation, I made it squeak over and over, hoping it would change anything. The dark quiet was everywhere. I couldn't even make enough noise to fill my little corner of the room. And I was helpless to save Braeburn. 'He needs me. He needs me!'

But as I bit my cheek to stifle a sob, my body rigid and still pulling against the restraints, a thought occurred to me. 'Or… he's just staying away. Like he's supposed to.' The tension in my body faded quickly away, along with all my energy, and I flopped back down onto the bed. Cold numbness spread from my hooves to my face as I realized, 'He's… not coming.'

I lay there, softly wheezing and out of breath.

My eyes watered, and I sniffled. 'He's not coming.' My head wanted to thrash from side to side, but all I could do was rock it back and forth, and even that made me dizzy. My tail thumped weakly at the end of the bed. I took two more breaths, then wrenched my eyes shut and forced myself to think, 'And I have to be okay with that.

I was dizzy, but as the fog cleared from my mind, I thought, 'He shouldn't come.' It sent a chill through my body, but I kept telling myself, 'He's not mine. He needs his space. Braeburn will be happy out there.'

Hot tears rolled down my face, and I laughed. Applebutt was back home, and that's where he belonged. I thought about him waking up in the morning and going out for a walk around the orchards. I pictured him directing the townsponies in whatever their latest project was. He was living a normal life, and I swore at myself, 'You fucking bastard. He's happy. Don't take that away from him.' I sobbed again. 'I want you to be happy, Applebutt.'

But I wondered if he would read the papers that day. I wondered if he'd be tempted to come back.

And I shuddered. 'No!' I shook my head in the limited way I could. 'He wouldn't be healthy here. He doesn't need a broken pegasus weighing him down. He's not here, and he shouldn't be.' It hurt to admit, and it hurt even more that I knew I was right.

I felt… cold. Everywhere.

My whole body felt flat, and a tight knot formed in my stomach. It grew, consuming my chest and my throat, and I sobbed again. 'Don't.' I felt like I was collapsing into a little, dark pile of muck, and I sobbed again, louder. 'He's better off out there. Grow up.' It got louder. 'Fucking stop it!'

I wept openly. Spit dribbled out of the side of my mouth. Even if I knew it was for the best, my heart still reached for him. "It's okay, Braeburn," I mumbled. I barely recognized my voice, like my mouth was full of cotton. "It's okay. Y-you stay h-happy, Brae." I could barely speak. My throat felt like it was full of jagged rocks, but the more I said, the more convinced I was. And every time I thought about him being happy, the dark room felt a little brighter. "It's okay, Applebutt. Be happy. Stay far away."

My restraints rattled as I shook against them, but I barreled forward. I needed to know, deep down, that I was okay with this. "I miss you, Braeburn. But it's okay." I shook, but I hoped that, somehow, he could feel how much I loved him. "Just be happy, Applebutt. Please be–"

"Blue?"

I gasped and tensed. My eyes opened wide, despite the stinging tears. My jaw was open and tight, and I didn't dare breathe. My ears strained to hear it again. My heart tore itself in half, because I didn't believe what I'd heard. I didn't want to hope, because it could have been another trick of my mind. 'It wasn't real. Don't panic. It's another hallucination. He's not–'

"S–… Soarin'?" It was groggy, tired, and strained. It echoed around the room with a broken, reserved hopefulness. But it was beautiful and healing, and I would have known it anywhere. I gasped again, afraid to say anything.

"Soarin'!" A couple meters to my side, a couch creaked. I tried to look, but my neck was too stiff to twist. Four hooves hit a hard floor, and they raced towards me.

'This isn't real. This isn't–'

Out of the corner of my eye, in the dim light of the moon, I saw a small, blue gemstone glint off of a fuzzy yellow ear, and I hoped. I hoped harder than I ever have, and pulling all my energy into my lungs, I forced myself to speak in a weak, grainy voice. "B-Braeburn?"

Even in the dark, Braeburn's face lit up the world. His soft nose, his kind eyes, all that masculine and feminine beauty that I'd fallen in love with months prior… He was there. Really there. I still didn't believe it could be true, but I gave in. I lurched my body upwards without thinking, trying to grab onto him, and as I hit the restraints, a scream caught in my throat. I couldn't touch him, and I realized that I'd probably scared him away or – worse – broken the illusion.

But instead of jumping back, he leaned into me. "It's okay, it's okay," Braeburn cooed quickly. "I'm here, I'm here. You lie down now. I'm here." His hooves explored all over me, feeling my chest and my face. They felt warm against the cold night, and even where my injuries were raw and his touch should have hurt, it made my body feel ready to leap out of bed. "You're gonna be okay." He teared up, and his voice broke. "Aw, Bl–!" Braeburn threw his head onto my chest, and he shook as he crawled halfway onto the bed and hugged me tightly. His mane brushed against my chin. It carried the freshly restored scent of apples, and he bawled into my fur. "You're okay. You're awake, and you're gonna be okay."

My bones screamed as I tried to pull my forelegs down again to return his hug. I couldn't move my neck, and I cried as my emotions poured out of me. My skin tingled wherever he touched me. The whole world scintillated when I saw his face again, and the agony of not being able to return his affection was like a needle at the back of my neck. I settled on gently brushing his side with my hind leg. It made him laugh and sob at the same time, and he grabbed my leg, held it to his face, and kept laughing. That smile, and knowing that I'd given it to him, took away all the pain that was left in my body.

But I started feeling light-headed.

Braeburn kissed my chest. "You're gonna be okay, Soarin'."

I blinked away the haze. "Brae… How are you here?"

Braeburn's face collapsed inward, and he jerked his head away. He moved to cover himself with a hoof, but he sniffled and looked back at me instead. "I–" His eyes closed, and he frowned. Slowly, he stroked my side. "I'm sorry, Soarin'. It's all my f–"

'No, it's not.' My voice refused to work, so I weakly kicked my leg out to get his attention. I immediately felt like I'd flown a hundred laps.

Braeburn startled. "Ah! S-sorry, Blue. Did I hurt you?" He searched my face, but I still couldn't find any words. His voice dropped. "This must be hell for you, tryin' to talk like this." He started to mumble, "And you wouldn't be here if I–"

My whole body stirred, and my eyes opened wide. I gritted my teeth and grunted, "Hrn!" I kicked my legs again, harder this time. I thought I could taste blood at the back of my throat, but all I could think was, 'No, Brae. It's not your fault.'

"Soarin', what's–" His ears flattened against his head, and his eyes widened. Slowly he smiled, huffed a breath, and shook his head. "Heh." He smiled and wiped his face with a fetlock. "Dammit, I'm supposed to be carin' for you, Big Blue." He looked at me with soft, sad eyes. "You're a dream. And you're right." With a shake of his head, he bent down and kissed my aching leg. "Thanks, Soarin'. I'm still workin' on it. It… wasn't my fault." He sighed. "I can't be responsible for Bronze's actions."

With an effort that left me breathless, I managed to whisper, "Proud of you, Applebuh."

Braeburn set a warm hoof on my chest. "I'm proud of me, too. But I… I wish I would've– The passes were right there and–" He stopped himself, took a deep breath, and fell deeper into his thoughts.

As quietly as I could manage, I drew in a breath. "Iss okay, Applebuh. You can… tell me." My chest rumbled. "Not like… I can run away."

Braeburn looked back at me. His eyes met mine, and it felt like he was climbing a lifeline back to me. He smiled and stroked my leg. "I did it, Blue." He took a breath and spoke clearly, like he was still trying to convince himself that it had happened. "I stood up to Bronze, and you were right. I wasn't alone. My team was behind me the whole way. Heh. Never seen him back down like that before. But…" He shook his head and frowned. "I don't know how he did it, Soarin', and I should have noticed sooner." He took a deep breath and kept stroking me.

I wheezed, "He took… your pass." A laugh made my chest feel tight. "I almost signed it."

Braeburn shuddered. "I'm so sorry, Soarin'. When I saw that a couple of them were gone, I just knew something bad would happen. I felt it, and I came as soon as I could, but–" He stifled a sob. "But I wasn't quick enough."

I tried to smile, and I have no idea if I succeeded. "But not your fault," I whispered in the quiet night. I felt dizzy again.

Braeburn gently nuzzled my chest. "I know, I know. Don't worry. I mean, I ain't totally convinced yet, but I know, deep down." He shook out his mane and rested his head against me. "But that doesn't matter now. You're okay, and I'm gonna stay for as long as you need me."

…

He…

My heart felt heavy. He was making promises again. I strained to tell him no, that he shouldn't do that. He couldn't tie himself down again, but all I managed was a raspy mumble.

"What do you need, Blue?" He put an ear to my mouth.

I swallowed and took a deep breath. The dark was creeping into the corners of my vision, and I knew I didn't have long. I had to choose my words carefully, and I–

Look, don't hate me. I didn't know if I'd be able to come back again on my own. "I can… hear you. Your voice." As I cursed myself for being so weak-willed, the room grew darker.

Braeburn chuckled and gently brushed my matted mane from my face. Feeling his touch eased my breathing and kept the dark away. "Well, I'm glad you ain't deaf."

I wanted to shake my head, but all I could do was wince. "Gonna sleep. Keep talking. Hear you."

"You're gonna– Oh. Oh!" He grabbed my chest. "No! No no, don't do that." He stroked my face. "You gotta stay here with me, Soarin'."

I smiled, or at least I tried to. "Sorry, Applebuh. No choice." My eyelids fluttered, and I couldn't feel my hind legs.

"Nurse!" His face had gone long and pale. Without taking his hooves off me, he turned his head and shouted, "Nurse! Help, nurse! He's awake!" I started to laugh, but he turned to me. "I'll be here, Soarin'. I'll keep talkin'. You just come back. Promise?"

I tried to nod my head. 'Thanks, Brae. Love you.'

I heard another set of hooves. A screechy mare's voice said, "Mister Apple, if you can't keep quiet, you'll be removed from–"

"H-he's awake! Or he was." My eyes had closed, but I still heard him breathing heavily.

The mare nickered. "I'll look him over, but you need to keep it down. You're already violating policy as is." She grunted and stepped closer. "Would you prefer to stay downstairs for a while? We also have guest accommodations across the street."

Applebutt neighed and stomped a hoof. "Hell no. I'm stayin'. He can hear me!"

I smiled and relaxed back into a deep sleep.

There were no more bad dreams. Instead, as I teetered on the edges of two realities again, I could just stay still and listen. No matter how the world churned around me or what horrors tried to pop up, I listened to Braeburn's voice on the wind. It was always there, telling me stories about his foalhood or what the weather was like in Appleloosa these days. As I faded in and out, his voice became more and less clear, coming and going in cycles. Even when I couldn't make out what he was saying, though, I still felt a soft yellow light all around me, and eventually, it guided me back to consciousness.

Poor Braeburn… His voice was so raspy when I finally woke up at around sunrise, and the bags under his eyes rivaled mine. He kept going, though, more lethargic than usual, but with a warm smile on his face. "…Slate's new colt is healthy as can be, too. Little chubby, but that's good for newborns most of the time. Heh, if his daddy has any say, he'll be workin' it off in no time. Gonna be a big stallion, that one. Ain't seen Slate so happy in a long while." He paused. "Hm? Oh! You, uh, you back with us, Blue?"

My eyes were open, and I saw daylight. I breathed easily when I saw Braeburn, but the back of my mind still nagged at me: even if it was a relief, he wasn't supposed to be there.

Braeburn wiped his sweaty forehead. "Heh. Your timin' is terrible. Fire Streak and Spitfire were just here." He gently patted my chest. "They were real worried about you. Said they'd try again tomorrow."

I snickered and spoke with labored breaths. "I mean… It sounds like they're the ones wi–… with bad timing."

Braeburn laughed nervously and kissed my forehead. "Heh heh. I don't know if Spitfire'd take kindly to that accusation, but maybe you're right." Some of the color drained from his voice, and he trailed off with, "They're good ponies, though." He looked down at the floor.

I sucked in a breath and held it. 'He… knows that we need to talk.' I shook my head and breathed normally again, and I decided to orient myself before tackling anything huge.

My neck felt… funny, and it took a bit to realize that the pillows that had been wedged around my head had been removed. With a deep breath, I lifted my stiff neck and looked around the hospital room. Braeburn told me to go easy on myself, but I replied, "Just gotta see… how classy it is." He laughed and let me look.

My first thought was, 'Nice. They put me in a private suite.' It wasn't huge – what hospital room is? – but my bed was towards the corner near the window, and there was a sitting couch and a tiny library of books opposite me. Machines I didn't recognize whirred next to my bed. The white walls felt pretty oppressive, but at least there weren't any light sources directly above me. On an end table near the couch, I saw a pile of get-well cards and lots of flowers. A few vases had to sit on the floor to make room.

I relaxed back into my bed, and I fidgeted a little to adjust my back. My forelegs itched, but since I knew scratching them was out of the question, I let my mind drift back to the moment. As I looked back at Braeburn, my thoughts settled on something even more uncomfortable: no matter how much I wanted him to stay, it wasn't healthy for either of us.

Braeburn snickered. "Up to your standards?"

"Yeah," I sighed. I started feeling the tired come back, and I knew I couldn't wait long. "Sorry, Applebutt. I'm fading again, but we… need to talk."

He frowned, which stuck a dagger in me, but then he set his jaw and spoke clearly. "Yeah, you're…" He looked down. "You're right." He traced my chest with his eyes and his hoof. "First thing when you wake up?"

"Yeah." My body went slack, and my eyes had already given up. "Get some… rest, Braeburn. I promise I'll come back."

"Same, Soarin'."

I faded out. There was no Braeburn voice this time, but I didn't need it. I knew he'd be waiting for me.

It was a pretty decent rest. Not full-night good, but hours-long-nap-after-a-tough-workout-and-one-too-many-gin-and-tonics good. I only half-woke up once when I felt pain in my hoof. I kicked my leg out and lifted my head with an incomprehensible, "Bwuh?"

The stallion nurse from my first night was there. "Good day. Do you know where you are?" His voice was clear and direct.

I instinctively tried to rub my eyes, but venom shot through my forelegs. I swallowed the pain, though, and just blinked a few times. "Yeah. Hospital." I cleared my throat. "I had a bad crash." I raised an eyebrow at him. "And you're doing that… coma test thing again, aren't you?"

He smiled. "Yes, and you're showing improvement. I'll be taking your vitals, including another blood draw. Will that be okay?"

With a raspy voice, I said, "Yeah." I cautiously turned my head and found I had a better range of motion than before. Braeburn was deep asleep on a couch at the opposite side of the room. His slow, rhythmic breathing synced up with mine. I smiled, and as I flicked my left ear, I noticed that it was just a little heavier than usual. I couldn't quite see it, but I knew the stud there, and I thought, 'Thanks, Applebutt.'

The nurse glanced towards Braeburn, then chuckled as he fastened a blood-pressure cuff to my haunch. "He's been here for several hours. Is he somepony special?"

My body warmed. "You have no idea."

The nurse took more of my vitals, and soon, I was back out.

After what felt like just a few seconds, I woke up to the smell of coffee and the lifeless white of the hospital room. Braeburn was out of my field of vision, but I could sense him there. "Morning."

"Heh. Late afternoon, actually." He was solemn, and he didn't rush to greet me this time. I heard his mug clink against a metal table somewhere near him.

I strained to look at him as he approached. "Saw you sleeping. It was cute." My throat felt better, and a little lightning shot up my spine when my voice sounded almost normal, if a little slow.

"Aw, I only slept a little." He slowly stood and walked over. "A few winks here and there. Ended up finally gettin' somethin' to eat an hour or so ago." His nose wrinkled.

It hurt my chest to laugh, but it felt so good. "Haha! That bad?"

Braeburn stuck his tongue out. "I ain't picky, but it's garbage here. It's like they want you to stay sick."

"You should have gone back there. Shown them how it's done."

"Naw, I'm not practiced in fixin' over-salted, wilted vegetables." He stretched his back legs, and his voice bounced a little. "Wasn't all bad, though. I got to meet a fine mare who wanted to pass along her condolences." He cantered over to me. "Didn't get to talk long, but Jet's a pretty fine gal. She left you some flowers, too." He jerked his head towards the mountain of flowers. "The pretty blue ones with the silvery-lookin' bits."

I looked past Braeburn, and Mom's flowers stuck out among all the others. They weren't blue. They were cerulean with some silver at the top. 'Just like Dad.' It sobered me that she'd chosen those exact colors, and I wondered, 'Mom came all the way here, even though she wants to protect Twister and Cyclone from all of this. She really meant what she said, didn't she?'

I tried to sit up. Bad idea. After a wince and a quick shake of my head to keep Braeburn from freaking out, I asked, "She was here?"

Braeburn nodded. "Just for a bit. She's gonna write a nasty letter to the Wonderbolts about pullin' military protocol on her."

I raised an eyebrow. "For what?"

Braeburn scratched at the back of his head. "They didn't let her in. She's not listed as your emergency contact or anything."

"Right." The back of my head itched, too, but, well, you know. "I'll write her a letter."

Braeburn smiled. "That'll make us all happy, I think."

I cocked my head to the side. "So… How'd you get in, then? You're not my emergency contact anymore, either."

"Ha! Strangest thing." He reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a little square of paper with some tape on it. "This pegasus couple was tryin' to get in, too, but security wasn't lettin' anypony through. They recognized me and said I deserved to see you. There was a lot of yellin', but then they ran off, grabbed some paper and a pen, and stuck this thing to my butt." He held up the paper. It had a pie with little wings and a parachute drawn on it. "Not sure why it worked, but it did. I thanked 'em, but I forgot to get their names."

I smiled. "Cobalt Breeze and Sunburst."

Braeburn looked back at the paper, then to me. "That'd fit their coat colors, I think. Friends of yours?"

I laughed. "Yeah. I think so. I really owe them a private show sometime."

"Aw, not until you, uh…" He trailed off and looked away. "…get better."

My expression drooped. "…Yeah."

There was a long pause, and the air hung thick. I tried twice to speak, but the words kept catching in my throat when I saw Braeburn looking at me with wide eyes and his ears down. Ultimately, though, I realized that I didn't know how much time I had before I'd fade out again. With a weak voice, I said, "Braeburn, you shouldn't–"

"–shouldn't be here," he sighed. "Yeah, I…" He looked down and wiped his mouth with a fetlock. His bangs fell across his eyes. "I know, Blue. I've been thinkin' about it since I got here." He sneered and shrugged, and he sounded exhausted. "I promise I won't beat myself up, but I hope you don't blame me for comin'." His hoof felt warm as he set it against my side. "I had to make sure you were okay."

I sighed back. "I will be."

There was another long pause.

Braeburn hid a sob with a small laugh. "Course you will." He looked up at me, eyes blinking rapidly. "You're Soarin' Buckin' Windsong. You can survive damn near anything."

My jaw quivered, but I forced a chuckle and an upbeat voice. "Heh. I'm introducing myself as Soarin' Bucking Windsong from now on."

"I'd say you've earned it." Braeburn leaned down and kissed my forehead, then wiped a sudden tear from my face. His hoof rested on my chest for a moment, and he looked out the window. His voice was weak when he finally said, "But you're still gonna need somepony to take care of you."

I responded with artificial confidence. "That's what the nurses are for. Braeburn, I–" I choked up. "I don't want you here." Panic shot up my spine. "I mean, I do, but I don't. Ugh!" I nickered at myself for not being more eloquent.

Braeburn laughed a sad laugh. "I think I know what you mean."

I took a few deep breaths, closed my eyes, and calmed myself. When I looked up, I spoke as gently as I could. "Braeburn, we both know it wouldn't work." I shook my head. "Not right now. Not like this. I'm going to be pretty useless for Luna-knows how long, and I won't tie you down again."

Braeburn's head shook slowly, and he had a faraway, vacant gaze. "You're right, Blue. You're right." He looked at me and gently ruffled my sweaty mane. "It's no wonder I fell for a pony who's so smart and kind." I hated seeing him put on the façade. He was sad, and all the old instincts flooded back.

I cracked. "I-I mean, maybe someday if–"

He held up a hoof and spoke solemnly. "Let's, uh… Let's not do that to ourselves, Soarin'." He shook his head and started drawing little circles on my chest with his hoof. His light touch relaxed me. "If it happens, it'll make me happy, but we… We can't. Not now. Like you said, not like this."

I lowered my eyes. "Yeah. No point in torturing ourselves."

"Right."

His hoof stopped moving around my chest. I stared at it for a drawn-out moment, taking in all the angles and little chips and thinking about all the places it had been. It looked healthy, if a little dirty from the Appleloosa desert, and I wished I could hold it again. I wished for a lot of things, but mostly, I simply thought, 'That's Braeburn's hoof.'

I sighed. "I still love you, Braeburn."

"I still love you, too." He gently stroked my mane and casually brushed all the physical pain away. He swallowed hard. "Is there anything I can do for you while I'm here? Anything at all?"

I could already feel him slipping away. My eyes stung, and I answered immediately. "Don't make me say goodbye again."

He scoffed, and I looked up to see him blink away another tear. "Makin' me do it instead? Heh heh." He bent down and gently hugged my middle. "I can do that, Soarin'. I'll, uh… I guess I'll just… stay until you fall back asleep." He flinched. I rubbed him with my hind leg again, and he calmed.

With his hooves wrapped around me, everything felt right. But with all the other distractions gone, I finally noticed that the dark was creeping back towards me. "Thanks, Applebutt."

After some hesitation, he stood back up, but he never took his hoof off of me. "How you wanna pass the time?"

I smiled. All I wanted was to see him happy, one more time, and I knew what we both needed. "Tell me about Appleloosa."

Braeburn glowed immediately, and through a shaky breath, he began. "Aw, you should see it, Blue." He arced a foreleg through the air. "Everything's in bloom, and the late summer varietals are just startin' to come in." He leaned in, and his tail wagged a few times behind him. "And even if it's too hot in the daytime to go whole hog, the nights are cool and pleasant, and the dances are wilder than I've ever seen."

My eyes felt heavy. "Do you dance much these days?"

His voice faltered, but he forced himself to stay upbeat. "Heh. I-I'm the talk of the town, Soarin'." His eyes rapidly searched my face, but he kept smiling, just for me. "A few of the townsponies think my new style's a bit weird, but it makes all the tourists more comfortable. They like seein' somepony else who doesn't quite fit."

My eyes closed. I tried to tell him how proud of him I was, but my mouth didn't work. Instead, I silently cried, and I smiled.

"B-but… But I do fit in there, Blue." He sobbed and breathed quickly, and his voice began to crack. "I get it now. I got it when I stepped off the train and everypony was jealous of my blue stud – mares and stallions alike. They–… Dammit. They s-say it makes me look more confident, and even some of the usual nay-sayers have been quieter lately."

I didn't really feel my body anymore. The numbness was taking over, but this time, it was okay. We were okay. I just wanted to hang on a moment longer.

"Heh. Amazin' what a little change can do for a pony. Or a big one, I-I suppose. But I'm… I'm grateful, S-Soarin'. Appleloosa feels like–… It feels like h-home, and I'm happy there. Truly happy, Soarin', so don't you worry 'bout me. I'll be fine, Big Blue. I'll be–"

* * * * *

We sit on the cloud just outside Soarin's property, back at the Sunrise Estates. We're next to the mailbox, which I came embarrassingly close to running into, and I am unable to tear my eyes away from Soarin'.

Soarin' sits, motionless. His eyes are closed, and he shoulders are relaxed. He takes in a deep breath, wipes his eyes, and says, "Braeburn… was gone by the time I woke up. We kept our promise to each other: I let him live his life out in Appleloosa, and he didn't try to show up and make me feel better. We'd… gone our separate ways. Between the 'Bolts giving vague, boring testimonies and Sapphire Shores' steady stream of pictures, our, uh… Our story never really broke, and nopony ever heard what happened." He sniffles and looks at me with wet eyes.

I swallow a lump in my throat and speak slowly. "So, in a way, you both got what you wanted."

Soarin' laughs a hollow laugh. "Eh, I don't know if I'd go that far. But maybe we got what we needed." He lets out a large, tightly-controlled breath. "Braeburn wasn't alone, and neither was I. I got to see Streak and Spitfire the next day, like they promised, and Mom was there when I got out of the hospital. Heh heh." He wipes his eyes. "She even snuck me a flask of Dark and Stormy in her purse. And… a few days later, I came home and started therapy, and for both our sakes, I stayed as far away from the media as I could get. That was, what, a little over three months ago by now? The recovery's been long, and it gives me a lot of hope, buuuut that's all pretty boring to talk about." He grins at me and laughs half-heartedly.

I clear my throat and struggle to meet his eyes. "For what it's worth, I… think you've earned a few boring months." I remember first realizing that he'd slipped through the cracks. I remember all the time I spent wondering about his story, about why he was so hellbent on being so reclusive. I get it now. "And I certainly don't blame you for hiding from the spotlight."

"Thanks." He blinks a few times and squares his shoulders again. "I guess… that's my story." He motions to my saddlebag. "Think anypony will wanna read it?"

I smirk. "I think some of them will."

For a second, the chill is gone from the air, and we share a smile.

I continue looking at him. "I hope you don't mind, but I need to ask: do you think you and Braeburn will–"

"I… try not to think about it, honestly." He sighs, then stands and walks up the path towards the condo. I follow, focused intently on him. "There's no way to know what'll happen. Some days are good, but some days…" His lips stiffens, and he shakes his head. "Some days, I wish I hadn't sent him away. I try to take it one day at a time and savor the good moments while I can." We arrive at the doorstep. "But you never really know what life is gonna bring you."

My eyes settle on the deadbolt. Its surface is scratched, and I shudder when I think about this morning and how far Soarin's recovery still has to go. His legs – don't stare at his legs – still seem so fragile, and it took him over a full minute to lock the door this morning with those shaky hooves of his. Should I offer to grab his keys for him? He might be insulted if–

Soarin' turns the handle, and the door opens.

I blink and try to reconcile what I'm seeing, but my gaze travels upwards to see Soarin's wearing a smirk that stops my heart. "Huh. Weird. Coulda sworn I locked it this morning."

I stare, dumbfounded. My jaw hangs open, but no words come out, and I'm frozen until Soarin' jerks his head towards the interior of the condo, inviting me to go first.

Swallowing, I take one step, then another, and as I cross into the house, my eyes open wide as a wave of spicy scents fill my nostrils. My mouth immediately waters. It's intoxicating. It fills the air with bold aromas, and I close my eyes to pick them out. Cardamom, for one. Turmeric, too. Cinnamon, basil, peppers of all–

It's curry.

I open my eyes when I hear a metallic clank – a lid settling onto a pot. I stand motionless as I hear hooffalls trot from the center of the kitchen towards the entry hall, and before I can gather my thoughts, it happens.

A yellow face pokes around the corner, one eyebrow raised. With another step, he's right there in front of me: an earth pony, about my height, with a toned, yellow body and a beautiful, golden mane framing a face that's both masculine and feminine in its features. He stands tall. His ear – the one with the blue stud – flicks at me, and after just a split second to look me up and down, his eyes light up, and his face breaks out into the widest, most welcoming smile I've ever seen.

"Hey there!"

Epilogue

After a beat, Braeburn laughs and trots towards me. "Haha! From the look on your face, I'd guess Blue kept his lips pretty tight. Hope he wasn't too reserved for you."

"Ha!" Soarin' laughs behind me as he removes his saddlebags. "Seriously, Applebutt? You thought I'd be able to hold back?"

"Uh-oh," Braeburn says with a smile. "I'd better pray he wasn't too open, then." He holds out a hoof to me. "Name's Braeburn. Nice to meet a reporter that Blue ain't cursin' about for once."

My cheeks flush. I clear my throat and shake his hoof. "Syn. It's a pleasure to meet you in the flesh. I've…" I glance away. "…heard all about you."

"Heh. That's what I was afraid of." Soarin' walks up to him. They kiss, and Braeburn gives Soarin' a sly look. "Did you leave anything to the imagination?" Soarin' looks at him with half-lidded eyes and a goofy smile, and when Braeburn sees me wearing an awkward grimace, he covers his face with a hoof. "Aw, hell."

Soarin' nudges Braeburn's side with his nose. "Cheer up, Applebutt. I think he liked it." He steps closer, pressing his chest to Braeburn's side. "And you're gonna like…"

Braeburn cracks a smile and whips his head to face Soarin'. "Oh, don't you dare– GAH!"

Braeburn screams as Soarin' rears back and grabs him around the neck. Soarin' yells "Nomph!" as he pulls Braeburn close and wraps his lips around Braeburn's ear.

"A-ah!" Braeburn shudders. "Oh…" His legs shake, and his eyes rolls back into his head. "Mmm…" Soarin' suckles on him, and Braeburn takes a few heavy, lusty breaths. "Oh, Blue. Heh. Haha!" His eyes settle on me and go wide. "Hee hee! Soarin'. Soarin'!" He sits and hoists Soarin' off of him, then gently shoves him away and holds him at leg's distance. Soarin' whines and playfully flails his forelegs. "Soarin', we have a guest. At least–"

He's interrupted by Soarin' leaning in and kissing his nose.

Braeburn holds a hoof to Soarin's lips, and Soarin' nibbles on it with a dreamy look on his face. Braeburn laughs harder. "At least close the door and offer him a seat first."

Quietly as I can, I kick the door closed behind me and set down my saddlebags.

Soarin' doesn't look away, and his voice is bouncy and bright. "Applebutt, I've been talking about you all freaking day." He kisses Braeburn's hoof again. "Lemme get some of it out of my system first."

"Oh no, mister. If I let you get goin', you'll never stop." Braeburn smiles and shakes his head, then gently grabs Soarin's hoof, kisses it, and sets it down on the floor. He looks between us. "I imagine y'all are famished. Sorry dinner ain't ready. Didn't know if you'd be late, or even if, uh…" He grimaces and glances back at Soarin'. "Didn't know if we'd actually have anypony over tonight."

I suppose he wouldn't. I nod at Soarin'. "You were interviewing me, too."

Soarin' smirks. "Pretty much."

Braeburn says, "Smart one. I like that." He stands up. "But no need to stay in the entryway. Come on in! Can we get you anything?"

My throat feels parched, so I start to say, "A glass of water would–"

Soarin' interrupts me and flares his wings out. "Oh! Wait! Wait wait wait! Hold on. I need to make you a drink." He kisses Braeburn twice more and trots into the kitchen, head held high.

My neck stiffens, and I look at Braeburn. I think back to the delicious cocktails Soarin' made me this morning, but that was before I knew, well…

From what Soarin' has told me, Braeburn would appreciate some honesty. I clear my throat. "If you'd like me to abstain, I really don't mind. I wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable."

Braeburn purses his lips, and his voice lowers. "So you talked about all that, too, huh?" He groans and rocks his head back and forth. "I suppose it couldn't be avoided." He waves a hoof dismissively. "It's alright. I'm six weeks sober, and I promise I'll be okay. I appreciate the thought, though."

My tail thrashes once. Only six weeks?

Braeburn grimaces. He looks down and scratches at his face. "Heh. Yeah, I know. Just six weeks."

My eyes widen.

Braeburn sighs. "There were, uh… a couple bad weekends here and there, but I'm tryin'." He gives me a firm smile. "Gettin' better all the time, and Soarin' knows what he's doin'. He won't let me slip up."

I breathe an easy breath. As curious as I am, I doubt he wants to discuss the nuances of his alcoholism. I shift focus. "I believe it. Soarin' really impressed me today."

"Well, he's an impressive guy." Braeburn turns and motions to the parlor. "Now, I mean it: come on in and make yourself at home. The curry needs to simmer a while, anyway."

I smile and canter into the parlor behind Braeburn. The rich scents fill the air here, too, and I sit on the same chair from this morning. The loose leg doesn't feel so uncomfortable now, even if it squeaks as I sit on it again.

As he sits on the couch opposite me, Braeburn swivels an ear my way. "Aw, that thing still squeakin'? I'll take another look after dinner."

"Soarin' tells me you're pretty skilled at repairing things." I rock in the chair slightly, getting a comfortable feel for how wobbly it is. It's welcoming, like a hug from an old friend.

"I'm not the only one." He smiles and half-lids his eyes. After a deep breath, he sits up taller. "So, you musta managed to stay on Big Blue's good side all day. I was half-expectin' to come here and find him fumin' in the bedroom."

"After what I've heard today, I wouldn't blame him." I shudder. "Truthfully, he made it easy. All I did was listen."

"That's all it takes, sometimes." He slowly shakes his head. "Crazy how hard that can be, though. Especially when we need to listen to ourselves."

I cock my head to the side. "There are a lot of layers to that."

Braeburn lies down on his stomach. Folding one hoof over the other, he takes a breath and lowers his voice. "There are layers to everything if you look hard enough. Even breakups." He glances down. "Even Bronze. Especially stuff like that, I suppose. Really, I just appreciate that somepony listened to Soarin' today. He needed it."

He's right about the layers, of course, and I wonder if, even after today, there is more to the story that I haven't uncovered. There must be. It's just a question of how much. To that end, I relax in the chair and ask, "Did you know I was coming tonight?"

Braeburn shakes his head. "Naw. I knew it was possible. We talked about it last time I was here, and he sent me a letter once he'd set up the interview, but that was about it. We know we'll have to tell the world eventually, and this time, we'd like to do it on our own terms." He flicks his chin towards me. "I suppose that's where you come in. You thinkin' about writin' an article or something? Seems like an awful lot to explain."

I glance to my side. Halfway up the bookcase, I see Whitewing's Big Score. The bookmark is tucked into the back cover, which makes me smile. "Book, actually." I turn back to Braeburn. "You're right that there's a lot to go over." I chuckle to myself. "My poor editor."

"You got a good one?"

I nod emphatically. "The best." I bring myself back to the moment, "But before I show anypony, I'll need your permission first, of course."

Braeburn smiles. "Heh. And that's why you're sittin' here instead of runnin' out of town with Blue on your tail."

From the kitchen, we hear a crash and a "Dammit!"

Braeburn cranes his neck and calls out, "You good?"

Soarin' shouts back, "Yeah, I'm good!"

Braeburn sticks out his lower lip, then tosses his mane. "Alright."

I smile. "So, you mentioned that you've talked about speaking to a reporter. Can I assume you've been back together for a while?"

Braeburn looks up and to the side. "Well, what's a while?" He motions with a hoof. "I wanna be clear, now: we stayed true to ourselves and each other, and we didn't even make Miss Holli be an intermediary." His eyes unfocus. "Like I said, it got rough a couple times, but even when I wanted to give in, pack up, and move back here, I remembered how hard it was on him to let me go in the first place." He shakes his head and sighs. "I didn't want to make him do it again. And actually, this is only the third time I've seen him since the hospital. First time was just about a month ago, when I was in Manehattan for a government conference."

I blink a few times. "A month?"

"Heh heh. Yeah…" Braeburn blushes and looks down with a coy smile. "That, uh… that spark of love never really goes away, I've found. It just kinda smolders." He looks upward, recalling a memory. "Even if we weren't datin', I still cared about him. I sent him a letter sayin' I'd be around, and maybe we could just grab lunch and catch up. We did, and, well, one things lead to another, then another."

I narrow my eyes and smirk. "And eventually back to the bedroom?"

"Well… yeah. Heh heh." Braeburn clears his throat and sits back up. "But it wasn't just that. Seein' each other set us off again. I missed my train just so I could stay the night, and we spent the whole time talkin' about what we wanted to do. We had some ideas, but really, we didn't know what was best, and we decided we could live with that. Just gotta take it one day at a time."

I nod. "It beats having to jump on a train to avoid the paparazzi."

"Right. Exactly. And any time I can swing it, I try to make it out here. Came back a couple weeks ago. I stayed for the whole weekend, and, well, we talked some more. It's been real nice figurin' things in our own time." His eyes soften, and he gets a dreamy look. "And I've gotten to fall in love with Soarin' all over again. It's one of the happiest times of my life."

I frown slightly. "It must be hard being so far away."

He grins and waves a hoof. "Aw, you don't know the half of it. We have to send letters every day to keep ourselves from goin' crazy. It's hard to tear myself away from Appleloosa, but I'm lucky. My friends back home can keep the town runnin' fine if I need a vacation."

Friends. I smile. "Appleloosa must be doing well, then."

His face lights up. "Sure is! Gettin' better all the time, too." His stifles a giggle. "Still ain't used to all this fuss, but that's what I get for bein' mayor, I guess."

I perk up. "Soarin' mentioned that. Is it finally official?"

"Not quite yet. Election's in a couple weeks, but nopony else wants to run. I think they're happy lettin' me do all the book work." There's a short pause, but his smile widens. "Keep 'em comin'. It's fun talkin' about this stuff at my own pace for a change." He motions his head towards the kitchen. "And if Soarin' was as blatant as he says, it ain't like it can get any more scandalous." He laughs warmly, and the whole room seems to light up.

I feel that Apple Family aura radiating off of him, just like Soarin' said, and all my muscles relax at once. I search for more questions, but in the end, I say, "There's so much to ask."

Braeburn rolls his eyes and mumbles, "Don't I know it."

He really does look handsome, though I can see the weight of an entire town behind his tired, confident eyes. With it, there's a glint of reservation about opening up, a fear of what comes next, but he bears it gracefully, and his eyes sparkle with excitement. I hope I get to meet him again someday, and I wonder how much a ticket to Appleloosa would cost.

A question floats to the top of my mind. "I suppose there's one big one."

Braeburn nods at me. "Go ahead."

I speak gently. "You and Soarin'. Why try again? Why now?"

Braeburn's voice lowers, and he gets a faraway look in his eyes. "Well, that's easy. Because I love him, Syn. Because I learned how to be loved. I still can't fathom how much he's taught me in our time together, about myself and about him and about everything, and we didn't know at the start how much we needed each other, and it…" He huffs. "We didn't really get a fair shake the first time around, but I think we're ready this time. We've, uh–" He wipes his eye with a fetlock, then tosses his mane and looks back at me. "Hoo! Pardon. We've been through a lot, and we never really had a choice of doin' it our way. But… now we do. We're both finally comfortable, and it feels like we're gettin' another chance. I don't want to let it slip through my hooves. I want to try again." He looks at me with soft eyes. "And that's the root of it, ain't it? After all's said and done, I've seen more of Soarin' than anypony else. I've seen his highs and lows and all the ugliness he wishes he could hide from the world. And I still think he's the most beautiful stallion in the world. Not just his looks – those help too, of course – but his spirit. I love Soarin' Windsong. Soarin's a part of me, and nothin' can change that. I'd choose him every time, and I'm choosin' him now."

I smile and feel a faint, yellow warmth fill the room.

Braeburn laughs. "That it? Hell, and I thought we'd be here all night."

I wink at him. "Careful what you wish for." Part of me wants nothing more than to sit and talk with him forever, but for the moment, I'm satisfied.

Braeburn starts to say something else, but our attention turns to Soarin'. His braces have come off, and he carries a massive glass stein full of a gray liquid. "Ta-da!" He passes it to me.

I look him up and down and smile. "Thanks, Soarin'." As I lift the stein to my lips and have a taste, I realize how lucky I am to–

…the hell is this shit?

Soarin' leans in with a devious smirk. "Do you liiiiiiike it?"

I coax my throat into swallowing and shudder. "What, uh, what do you call this?"

Soarin' grins ear to ear and casually says, "The Rest."

I raise an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

Soarin' looks over his shoulder to Braeburn, whose tail whips back and forth every few seconds. "That's really it?"

Soarin' belts out a low, "Eeeeeyup!" and walks to the couch, where Braeburn stands and hugs him. They kiss the sides of each other's faces, and Braeburn says something I can't quite hear.

The Rest. I remember how little alcohol Soarin' had this morning, then look down at my drink again. My mouth tastes like used leaves. I wait for them to separate and say, "I'm happy for your both." I try to scrape my tongue off on my teeth. "Soarin' tells me you don't like being wasteful, Braeburn, but–"

"Heh heh." Braeburn stands tall. "Just this once, let's dump it. Call it a celebration: that shit's gone from my life now." He nods at me. "Actually, I can take care of it for you. Somethin' tells me it'd be an awful last drink." He takes the stein from me. "You two go wash up for supper."

Soarin' reaches for the stein and sets a hoof on Braeburn's. "I'll get it, Applebutt. You chill. You were in meetings all day."

"Ha! And you were walkin' your legs off."

I quietly slip away and slowly climb the stairs. With a glance back, I see Soarin' press his nose into Braeburn's. "My house, my rules, Applebutt."

Braeburn rubs his face against Soarin's. "Careful, mister. That cuts both ways."

Soarin' wraps him in a wing and gives him another kiss. "Eh, I'll enjoy it while I can."

My chest feels warm and full, and I climb the rest of the staircase.

I haven't been in a pegasus bathroom since I was a young stallion. It's mostly the same as we have, except for the pile of clouds just… sitting there on the shelf. Are the darker ones the hot water? How long do they keep?

I quickly wash my hooves in the cloud sink, then dry them on a towel embroidered with Soarin's cutie mark. I assume it's official merchandise until I see that Braeburn's cutie mark is embroidered next to it. I can't help but smile.

As I turn out of the bathroom, I see another room at the end of the halls. Its big, blue door is wide open.

Well, now.

Hm… I bet I can sneak a peek.

With five short steps, I'm in their bedroom. Soarin' once told me he liked keeping this room barren. It made him feel free, like at any time, he could fly away into nothingness and leave without a trace. Clearly, he's had a change of heart.

His mirrored closet doors are covered with dozens of pictures, letters, and mementos, leaving only a pony-sized space usable in the middle. The papers are an eclectic mix – some are fan letters, and many are from Braeburn, all dated within the last month. I see a small scrap of paper with a tiny drawing of a pie, too, complete with wings and a parachute. The rest of the letters are faded, slightly yellowed, and signed, "Sky."

I hold my breath in a moment of silent respect, then continue looking around.

There are so many pictures. Some depict Soarin' in the hospital, smiling and surrounded by teammates or special fans. I see another with him and a mare that must be Jetstream: their eyes are red and puffy, but they're smiling and each raising a Dark and Stormy to the camera. There are several pictures from a welcome-home party, a double date with Fire Streak and Spitfire, and more than a couple suggestive pictures of Braeburn. And at the center, at the very top, I see two train tickets.

Standing at the center and looking around at all of it, I feel my chest warm, and a smile breaks across my face. My gaze traces a line across the mirror, and I say aloud, "They'll be okay."

There is some movement in the corner of my eye, but I don't look towards it. A few seconds later, I hear a small puff to my side. I turn and see Soarin', smirking and standing tall. "Heh." He extends a wing and gently whaps the back of my head with it. "Better than okay. We're gonna be happy." His eyes are half-lidded, and he wears a small, warm smile. I return the expression, and we take one more look at the mirror.

The room is quiet, and it feels comfortable.

"It's different," I say softly, after a beat. "It's changed."

"Yeah," Soarin' replies. "It has." He surveys the whole mirror and flexes a foreleg. "A lot of it has. And I'm glad. The crash? The physical therapy? It's worth it. All of it."

I look to him. "That's a comforting perspective."

"It helps." Soarin's eyes turn downward. "I wasn't… in a good place when this all started." His head slowly shakes. "It's weird, right? I thought I had everything, but it wasn't enough. I thought that fame and physical prowess and recognition were all I would ever need." He looks around at the photos and letters. "But I gained so much more after I lost it all. Funny, right?"

"Yeah." For a moment, I see Soarin's reflection. "I think… we don't ever change unless we're forced to. I think it's tough to admit that we have more growing to do. But the beautiful thing is, once we accept it, we get to watch ourselves change, and we learn what we really need."

Soarin' pauses and looks himself over in the mirror. He examines the bags under his eyes, his atrophied legs, and the little additional weight he's gained. And he smiles. "Yeah," he says. He turns and looks towards the hallways, and at the edge of my perception, I hear Braeburn milling about in the kitchen. "And I finally know what I need."

We share a long, quiet moment as Soarin' takes one more look in the mirror. He watches himself, and I watch him, too. He's become so much more than the stuck-up, single-minded celebrity I thought I'd met this morning.

Soarin' lowers his head, closes his eyes, and turns to leave. "Take your time," he whispers.

I watch him for a moment. As he reaches the door, I say, "Soarin'?"

"Hm?" He looks over his shoulder.

I smile. "Thank you for everything today."

He smiles back. "You, too." He turns back and disappears down the hall.

I take my own turn looking in the mirror. It's been a long journey, and my shirt and mane show the telltale signs of a day full of walking and sweating outside. As much as I want to start writing the story, though, I think I'll take an evening to enjoy the company of some new friends. Some things are more important than being professional.

With one last, long look around the room, I follow him, and as I leave, my eye catches a picture on the dresser. The last thing I see is a happy colt with his parents on Hearth's Warming.

From the top of the stairs, I pause to watch Soarin' and Braeburn nuzzle each other in the kitchen, but I only get a couple seconds before Braeburn says, "I see you up there," in a faux-stern voice. I descend the stairs, Braeburn gives the curry a quick stir, and we head back to the parlor.

I sit in the chair, and Braeburn sits upright on the couch. Soarin' crawls onto the couch next to him and tunnels through the space made by Braeburn's body and forelegs. Braeburn makes some extra room for him and snickers. "Now, what are you–"

Soarin' rolls onto his back and looks up at Braeburn with bright eyes. He gently lifts a hoof and paws at Braeburn's chest.

Braeburn sighs, "Aw, you…" He runs a light hoof through Soarin's mane, eliciting a moan as Soarin' closes his eyes. There's a moment of stillness, then Braeburn smiles warmly and shakes his head. He resumes stroking Soarin's mane as he looks up at me and says, "You'll have to excuse him. 'fraid he called his momma a bitch so many times that he's part lapdog now."

Without opening his eyes, Soarin' lets his tongue flop out of his mouth, and he makes exaggerated panting noises.

Braeburn laughs softly. "Yeah, yeah, good doggy."

Soarin's chest rumbles with a low laugh. He opens his eyes and turns his head to kiss Braeburn's hoof. They both look at me, and Soarin' quietly says, "I, uh… don't really know what else to say. I think that's everything. This is my life now." He looks back at Braeburn. "And as long as I've got my Applebutt, I'm good with that."

I nod. "That just leaves the future, then." I think I already know the answer, but I ask, "Do you think you'll try to keep it long-distance?"

Soarin' flashes a bright smile to Braeburn, who laughs and says, "Fat chance. I'm already visitin' more than I should, and I doubt I could stop now. So naw, long-distance ain't happenin'." He lightly taps Soarin's chest. "Unless this lazybones never finishes packin' his stuff."

I smile as I remember the train tickets on his mirror. "So you are moving to Appleloosa."

Soarin' grins at me. "Yeah. I told you this morning, didn't I? I'm selling this place as soon as I can."

Braeburn gives him a gentle nudge. "Aw, you almost gave it all away?"

Soarin' kisses Braeburn's hoof again. "I was careful. And hey, I didn't actually slip up, right?"

Braeburn furrows his eyebrows with a grin. "Okay, but if I find out otherwise…" He playfully glares at Soarin'.

Soarin' grimaces. "Whaaaat?"

Braeburn cranes his neck downward and whispers into Soarin's ear. It's easy to guess what Braeburn is saying, especially once Soarin' smiles wider, blushes, and crosses his hind legs.

My chest rises, and I smile broadly. "I'm sure Appleloosa will be happy to have you."

"Damn straight," Braeburn says. "Especially with all he's bringin' to town with him."

I ask, "Weather skills?"

"Ha!" Soarin' laughs. "Nah. I mean, maybe. Eventually, when I'm a little better. I think they'll settle for cash and a doctor, though."

Braeburn sits up and elaborates. "He convinced his physical therapist to move to Appleloosa." Braeburn runs a light hoof along Soarin's foreleg. "She gets her own practice, Soarin' gets his treatment, and we get a new doctor. Celestia knows we could use another one."

"Yeah." Soarin' smiles. "And that way, I can stay with Braeburn, at least until I can try out for the 'Bolts again."

Braeburn pets Soarin's mane. "Might be a couple years, Big Blue."

Soarin' looks dreamily up at him. "Maybe, but I know who I wanna spend them with."

I melt a little, but the base of my neck feels hot, and a knot of discomfort forms in my gut. I hesitate, then ask, "But… what happens then?"

Their expressions falter as they take a breath together. Soarin' looks up at Braeburn, and Braeburn looks down at Soarin' with a frown and a slightly furrowed brow. The air stills, and a heaviness looms over them.

But then, with a calm hoof, Soarin' reaches up and touches the end of Braeburn's nose. Braeburn blinks at it a few times in surprise, and then a warm smile lights his face up again. Soarin' smiles back, and as Braeburn leans down, Soarin' reaches up and holds the back of his head, and they share a long, deep kiss.

Soarin' softly nuzzles Braeburn again as they separate. He reaches out and strokes Braeburn's side, so gently that I can barely hear the rustle of his hoof against Braeburn's fur. After a few strokes, he rests his hoof on Braeburn's flank, and they share another long, warm look. "I, uh…" Soarin' speaks softly, slowly, and he turns to me. "I… don't know what's gonna happen. We don't know what's gonna happen. But whatever it is, I know I want to do it with Braeburn, and we're ready to do it right this time. I love him, and I always will. I'm more sure of that than ever."

Braeburn takes a shuddering breath and whispers, "Love you, too, Big Blue." He leans down and kisses Soarin's forehead, then says, "It'll be nice to have it all out there, I think. Tough, but it'll make it a lot easier in the long-run. Might even do somepony some good." He chuckles. "Long as the story ain't too one-sided, of course. Granny and Big Mac'll throw a fit if it is."

Soarin' strokes him again. "Hey, I did my best, Applebutt."

I nod. "He was very kind to you and your situation. I don't think you have much to worry about there."

Braeburn rests a hoof on Soarin's chest. "Well, I hope you were kind enough to yourself, too. You were dealing with a hell of a lot, and you still managed to make me smile. And hey, it's not everypony that can teach me to a make a dessert."

I lean in. "He taught you to cook something?"

"Yeah, on one of those days when I was feelin' down." He looks to Soarin'. "Didn't you tell him about it, Big Blue?"

Soarin' whinnies. "Applebutt, I had like a billion things to talk about. I couldn't tell him everything."

Braeburn strokes his mane again. "Aw, but it was so sweet!" He looks at me. "Did he at least tell you about how he helped me acclimate up here? Or that late-night talk I had with my parents when we were at their place?"

I shrug. "Yes, and… sort of."

Braeburn chuckles. "Alright, now I'm worried."

"Hey!" Soarin' protests, running a hoof up Braeburn's leg. "I wasn't even in the room for that last one."

Braeburn nudges him. "Well, fine, but how do I know you got all the important bits and didn't get distracted by – apparently – talkin' about our sex lives the whole time?"

I feel a familiar itch, and I grin.

Soarin' laughs. "Not the whole time. And c'mon, Applebutt. We had some pretty important sex."

"Well, can't argue there." He shakes his head. "Though I shudder to think what you said I sound like when I, uh, get into it."

My eyes dart towards the hallway, then back to them. Soarin' did tell me he felt Braeburn's story was more important. Gently, I ask, "Would you… be interested in sharing more about your experience?"

Braeburn's expression drops. "Ya' mean the sex bits?"

Soarin' and I burst with laughter, and soon, Braeburn joins in, too. When we recover, I say, "Well, whatever you feel like sharing."

Braeburn blushes. "Aw, you wouldn't want to hear from me."

"Eh, c'moooooon," Soarin' says with a quick hug. "I wanna hear it, too, Applebutt. I haven't heard the whole thing yet."

Braeburn's face tightens in thought, and I dare to hope. I say, "I would consider it an honor, and I promise, I won't publish anything without your consent."

Braeburn laughs and shakes his head. "Huh. You really wanna hear my take? You sure?"

I nod. "I'm positive."

Soarin' turns his head and kisses Braeburn's side. "Take it away, Applebutt."

"Heh heh," Braeburn laughs. He and Soarin' share a quick hug, one more kiss, and a long look of warm, content love. With a deep breath, Braeburn sits up straight and speaks with a bright, confident tone. "Well, it all started in a little green house in Appleloosa…"

The End

Chapter 36 - Sonuvabitch

Braeburn and I were all over each other on the ride back home after the show. Our sky cab was big enough for about six ponies, and with just him, Holli, and me inside, we could stretch out a little. After Braeburn told Holli why we'd taken so long in the locker room, he snuggled up to me and kept talking about his favorite parts of the show. "I may be biased, but that second act was even better than the first!"

His soft chin brushed against my shoulder, which made me tingle. I shrugged and coolly said, "Meh. Makes sense. The first act has smaller stunts. See, the audience is already jazzed up from the big opening, and we slow it down a little so they can recover before we build it up again for the grand finale."

He looked up at me with his sparkling green eyes. "Heh heh. That's bullshit, ain't it?"

I kissed his forehead. "Maybe. What do you think, Holli?"

Holli was seated across from us, her blue dress starting to show wrinkles. "I think you put on a good show, but I suppose I'd have to come to a few more before I could really judge." She winked at me.

I snickered. "You got it. I'll pick you up a few backstage passes when I get Braeburn's next week."

Holli narrowed his eyes at Braeburn. "If that whole locker room experience was just on a regular ticket, then thinking about the backstage special makes me blush."

Braeburn wrinkled his nose and averted his gaze. "Heh heh…"

"I'm awfully jealous, Braeburn. I would have loved to have been in your hooves." Holli settled into her seat and rotated her shoulders. "Mm… All those muscular stallions to yourself… What do you think they'll do to you after the next show?"

Braeburn's fur prickled, and so did mine. My thoughts started firing on all cylinders again, but I quickly told myself, 'They were just messing around. One-time thing. He doesn't even like them. He likes me.'

Braeburn sat up and said, "Aw, stop your teasin'. It was fun, but I was mighty flustered. Not sure I'd like to even try that again."

I hissed out a breath and shook off my thoughts.

Braeburn said, "Hell, I'm still worried about the party. Butterflies are gettin' to me." He chewed on his lower lip. "Don't know what I'll talk to everypony about. I got a feelin' we don't all have much in common, and I'm pretty good with names, but that's mostly earth pony names – all yours seems to be about the sky or somethin' – and I–"

I put a hoof to his lips. "You'll be fine, Applebutt. They'll love you, and Holli's a pretty good bouncer." I smirked at her. "Thanks again for all help. And the new code word."

Braeburn cocked an eyebrow at me. "Code word?"

"Yeah." I nibbled his ear just to feel him quiver. "Next time I'm horny, I'm ordering the backstage special."

The cab pulled into the Estates. As we got out, I asked the driver, "Hey. You wanna make an assload of bits?" I hired him to wait there all night and take home anypony that needed it, and I flagged down a security officer to get him a pass for the night. I also gave him a hefty tip from my saddlebag, just to make sure he stayed, then caught up with the others.

Braeburn held the front door for Holli, and she nodded at him as she walked in. "Thank you, kind gentlecolt."

"My pleasure," Braeburn replied with a theatrical bow. He kept holding the door for me.

"Thanks, Applebutt," I said. "You ready?"

He smiled, let out a shuddering breath, and followed me into the entryway. "Think so. You go set up the music. I'll–" He stopped, one hoof raised, outside the doorway to the kitchen. "Uh, pardon me, Miss Holli."

Holli leaned against the frame, smiling at Braeburn with half-lidded eyes. She didn't say anything, and I stayed to watch.

Braeburn set his hoof down and said, "Excuse me, please. I need to get in there and set out the food."

Holli chirped back, "Oh, I'll take care of it, Braeburn. You just enjoy the party."

"Heh. I don't mind. Really." He leaned to the side, like he was trying to get around her.

Holli just shifted her weight and batted her eyelashes.

Braeburn made another move to pass her and said, "We, uh… should probably hurry."

Holli chuckled and stood firm. "Braeburn, I know nerves when I see them. If I let you in, you'll hide here all night." She peeked out at me. "Am I right, Soarin'?"

I stepped up to Braeburn and bumped his flank with mine. "Well, you did try to skip out on dancing back in Appleloosa…"

Braeburn scrunched up his face and averted his gaze again.

"Gotcha," Holli said, poking him lightly on the nose. "Don't forget who everypony's here to meet, Cutie. At the very least, it sounds like you owe Soarin' a dance."

"Yeah!" I said, nuzzling him. "If the conversation sucks, just give the tour, like out west. Who better than the mayor, riiiiight?"

He paused, thought, and chuckled. "This'll be my own little Appleloosa? Just like bein' back home?"

'Home. Appleloosa. Braeburn. Train. Bron–'

"Yeah!" I said, cutting off my own thoughts. "Like that."

Holli looked back at Braeburn. "Think you can do that, Cutie?"

Braeburn nickered. "Aw, why not?"

I sighed. "Good colt," I said as I pulled him close and kissed his cheek.

Holli added, "As far as I'm concerned, it's my kitchen tonight, but I'm always here if you need to take a break. Now, why don't you go get changed?"

Braeburn was still wearing his bolo tie and white dress shirt. I mean, it's not really party material, but I didn't think it looked bad. I cocked an eyebrow. "Huh?"

Braeburn blushed. "Aw, you really gonna hold me to that?"

I looked at Holli. "Hold him to what?"

She winked at me. "Braeburn let it slip about his little outfit in Las Pegasus, and he agreed to show me."

Rolling his eyes, Braeburn said, "She's makin' me wear my pink shirt."

Holli flicked a hoof. "You'll look great in it, I'm sure! It'll go well with your coat. Like strawberry lemonade."

It felt isolating being on the outside of one of Braeburn's conversations, but I shrugged it off. "Cool! Gayburn's back!" When he snorted a hot breath at me, I nuzzled him and said, "If it helps, I'll wear my black one."

"Aw, that ain't fair!" he whined with a mock-frown. "Black makes you look sexy."

"Anything makes you look sexy, Brae." I kissed him and whispered into his ear. "…and nothing makes you look even sexier."

He blushed again and flicked his ear, then let out this cute little squee noise.

Holli waved a hoof at us. "Oh, go on, you two." As we walked to the stairs, and she shouted to us, "And hooves to yourselves! I'm coming up there if you aren't back in five minutes!"

Giggling, we walked into our bedroom. I watched Braeburn's ass in the mirror as he reached under the bed for his luggage – he hadn't unpacked yet – and quickly pulled out the wrinkled shirt. "Oh, this needs an iron. Badly."

"On it!" I yanked the shirt from him, grabbed the auto-magic iron and ironing board from my closet, and had everything set up before he knew what was happening.

Braeburn sat on the bed and laughed. "Guess I'm not the only Mister Domestic in this house."

I tilted my head back and grinned. "Dude, have you seen how perfect my uniforms look?"

He smirked. "When there ain't a big hole in the crotch, yeah."

"Not my fault!" I shouted with a laugh. I dabbed his shirt with a shower cloud to get it damp and started ironing. "Everypony's gonna love you, Braeburn."

"Heh, you already said that." Braeburn sighed, his tail flicking back and forth. "But thanks. I just hope I don't make an ass of myself."

"Nah, you'll be fine," I said as I pressed his shirt. The iron felt heavy in my hooves. "Just stick with me. I'll keep you safe."

"I know you will, Big Blue. I'm just outta my element."

I flipped the shirt and worked on the others side. "What are you talking about? You deal with strangers and giant groups of townsponies all the time!

His voice got lower. "A pony can still be lonely in a crowd, Soarin'. I think you know that as well as I do."

I paused until I smelled the first whiff of singed fabric. "…Yeah."

To my side, I heard Braeburn flop onto the bed. "And it doesn't really help that I'm wearin' that shirt again. Just feels a little… I dunno…"

I finished ironing and stood there with the warm shirt in my hooves. Staring at it, I felt a lump in my throat. "Dishonest?"

Braeburn blew air out of his lips. "Yeah, kinda. And… as long as we're puttin' on airs, you mind if we skip the Applebutts and Big Blues, at least until I know everypony a little better?"

I winced, but I understood. "No problem, Applebutt."

"Hey!" he whined playfully. "Careful."

"Whaaaat? I need to get them out of my system." I motioned for him to come stand by me, and softly, I said, "Tonight's gonna be great."

Slowly, he stood up, and I could hear the heaviness in his voice. "I hope so, Big Blue." He walked to me and let me put his shirt on.

As I buttoned it up, my heart warmed, and I told him, "You look amazing."

He chuckled. "You ain't even lookin'."

I looked into his bright green eyes, then tenderly licked his cheek and gave him a kiss. "Don't have to. I just know."

There was a knock on the door downstairs. We looked at each other, but I didn't move.

Braeburn motioned with his head. "Think that's our first guest, Big Blue."

I stared.

Braeburn tilted his head to the side. "You gonna answer it?"

I smirked.

Braeburn narrowed his eyes and gave me a wry smile. "Asshole. You, too?"

I kissed his forehead. "Your party, babe."

I threw on my black shirt as we went downstairs, and then Braeburn opened the front door. "Welcome to, uh… our place! Oh! Sightseer, nice to see you! You… need help with that?"

Sightseer grimaced. He was holding up a massive glass bowl of seven-layer taco dip, and his foreleg was shaking. "H-hi! Yes! Help, please!"

"Of course! Come on in." Braeburn took the bowl and carried it to the kitchen, no problem. "Just makin' a delivery, Miss Holli."

I motioned for Sightseer to come in, and as I did, Wave Chill arrived with his marefriend. "Hey, Soarin'! Hope you don't mind that I brought Star Drop." He nodded as his companion, a lavender pegasus with a silvery mane.

Braeburn appeared again and said, "Welcome! Come on in!" He had his mayor voice on.

And I figured I could help him out. "No problem. Nice meeting you, Star Drop. You guys heard PON-3's new tracks?"

They followed me into the parlor, where I put on some tunes and hit the lights. The blue and gold gems rotated in the lamps, creating kaleidoscopic patterns on the walls. Braeburn kept running to the door whenever we heard a knock, and over the next half-hour, another dozen 'Bolts arrived along with a pile of saddlebags, food, and booze. Most of them brought beer or mixers, and everypony made a pass through the kitchen to grab a drink and a plate of snacks. They freaking raved about the hummus and the mini-tacos that Holli and Braeburn had made, and the sounds in the condo went from a low thump of the music to a small buzz of chit-chat to loud laughs and vigorous conversation in no time. Groups of ponies spread themselves throughout the parlor, the kitchen, and the back porch, where Holli had set up some chairs. Holli stayed in the kitchen, serving snacks and mixing drinks. On my second snack run, I asked if she wanted to just hang out, but she said, "Sugar, I can't help myself. Besides, it'll keep Braeburn out of here. Long as I have somepony to talk to, I'll be fine."

In the parlor, High Winds, Misty Fly, and Lightning Streak were dancing in the middle of the room to the heavy beat, and Braeburn settled onto the couch with me. Blaze and Sightseer joined us in some nearby chairs. Blaze passed us some of the hard lemonades she'd brought, and Braeburn quickly obliged. "Thank you! Mouth's already mighty dry," he said as he tipped the bottle back.

We'd barely started talking when we heard another knock, but Misty Fly offered to get it, and I had to hold Braeburn down to keep him from answering. "Relax, Braeburn. You've earned a break." He slumped back into the couch and kept eyeing the door.

Misty Fly came back a moment later. "Guess who finally showed up together?" She stepped aside, and two ponies followed her into the parlor. Fire Streak stood with his head high, and he waved at the group of us on the couch. Next to him, Spitfire stood rigid with a flat expression. Her lips were slightly pursed, and she looked quickly around. The crowd gave out a collective, playful, "Oooooh!"

Spitfire tensed up and quickly glanced at Fire Streak. I saw that chink in her armor again, just for a second.

But good ol' Streak. With a big smile, he turned to Spitfire, shrugged his shoulders and said, "Well, they obviously already know." He quickly leaned in and kissed Spitfire on the cheek, and I swear, I could see Spitfire's heart jump into her throat. She didn't have long to react, though, because the whole parlor erupted in cheers and whistles and stomping hooves, and Spitfire looked out at the party and smiled. I think that chink in her armor had gotten just a little bit bigger, or maybe she'd finally taken the first piece of it off.

When the cheering died down, Spitfire's expression flat-lined, and she dead-panned, "He's fired for that."

Everypony in the parlor laughed, and Misty Fly and High Winds left the dance floor to talk to Spitfire. The way they bounced up to her made them look like school-fillies as they squealed and demanded to hear the whole story. Lightning Streak followed and gave Fire Streak a hoof-bump, and Silver Lining came out of the kitchen to see what had happened.

The conversation picked up between Braeburn, Sightseer, and Blaze, but I just sat on the couch watching Spitfire for a few minutes. She still looked rigid, but as the other mares encouraged her to keep talking, her shoulders relaxed, and I could almost feel the tightness melting away from her. And whenever Fire Streak said something to her, they both looked as natural as they had in the stadium.

I smiled. 'Good for them.'

The relaxed, solid pulse of Mister Pon's "Surfs" remix thumped in the background of our conversation, and the room spun with the blue and gold lights. I nursed my lemonade while Braeburn cracked open a beer, and I tuned back into the conversation. Sightseer asked, "So what's it like being an earth pony up here?"

Braeburn took a long drink, and then set his jaw and sighed. "Eh… It's been a bit rough, Sightseer. Tryin' to get around without wings seems like a fool's errand sometimes, and the media certainly doesn't help." He scooted closer and gave me a quick hug. "We think it'll get better, though. It'll just take time."

Blaze chimed in. "I'm jealous. I've been on the main squad for a couple months now, and the media ponies don't pay any attention to me at all." She mumbled, "…except when they think I'm Spitfire."

Braeburn chuckled bitterly. "Count your blessings, Miss Blaze. It ain't as glamorous as it seems. Can't even hardly go shoppin' without worryin' if the asparagus I buy will show up on the front page." We all shared a short laugh. "I guess it ain't so bad, though. How about this: enjoy what you have, and I'll do the same. I'm just lucky I got Soarin' to keep me safe." He rested his head on me. "Thanks for stickin' by me."

I wrapped a wing around him, and the yellow light from the gem lamp hit his blue stud. "Always, Brae."

Sightseer raised his drink to us. "You know, you two remind me of my wife and me."

Blaze snorted. "Ha! Here we go…" She took another pull of her lemonade.

"I mean it," Sightseer stated firmly. "We've had ups and downs and a lot of adjustments, especially for her when I go on tour, but we see everything through together."

I clinked my bottle against Sightseer's. "You know it," I said.

Braeburn nodded. "Your wife seems mighty nice, and if you don't mind me sayin', she makes one hell of a taco dip."

Sightseer puffed up his chest. "Best in Cloudsdale! I'll let her know you liked it."

"Thank you." Braeburn drained his beer and stood up. "Think I need another taste, in fact. Can I get anypony anything while I'm up? Cider? Beer?" After a pause, he said, "I'll just grab a round. Be right back."

I made a move to stand up. "I'll help you carry 'em."

"Nah, I've got this, Soarin'. You just wait here."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure. I'll just be a sec." He waved a hoof and disappeared into the kitchen.

After Braeburn was out of earshot and the song wound down for a few seconds, Blaze asked, "Is he doing okay?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Uh, yeah. We're great! Why?"

Blaze cocked her head to the side. "I don't know. He seems… a little tense, I guess?"

Sightseer snickered. "Well, Blaze, how would you feel meeting your coltfriend's coworkers for the first time?"

Blaze snickered. "Heh. Haven't had that problem for a while." She took another drink. "You're probably right, though, but it can't be easy."

I said, "Braeburn's okay. He'll adjust."

We kept talking, but after a few minutes, Braeburn hadn't come back. I shook my head and told myself he was fine and that he was happy I was "sticking by him." That helped, but the longer he was away, the more I found myself distracted from the conversation. My mind turned with images of him being cornered by some of the other 'Bolts and feeling awkward, shivering and worried about what to say. I kept looking towards the kitchen, but I couldn't see inside, and a tight feeling built in my chest that told me he needed me.

Finally, I heard cheering. "Go! Go! Go! Go! GO!" It finished with some loud whistles and hoof-stomping.

I jerked my head towards the kitchen. "I'm… gonna go check on him."

Sightseer smiled. "He's fine, Soarin'. Probably just got caught up."

Blaze nodded at me. "Yeah, he'll be back soon. Just relax."

I paused. My body felt like it was being pulled in two different directions. I looked back and forth between Sightseer and Blaze, but my mind was already made up. "I-it'll just take a second."

I pushed past the ponies that were dancing in the middle of the room and made it to the kitchen. Holli was sitting at the table talking to Fire Streak and Spitfire. Braeburn leaned on the counter, surrounded by Fleetfoot, Wave Chill, Star Drop, and Surprise. He was breathing heavily, but his eyes were half-lidded, and he wore a small smile. On the counter, arranged in a disorganized line, were a lot more shot glasses than there were ponies.

Wave Chill was snickering and shaking his head. "Damn, Braeburn. How'd you learn to throw 'em back like that?"

Braeburn grinned smugly. "Practice."

"Ha! Well, I'm getting a rematch next party, and there's no Luna-damned way I'm losing again."

Fleetfoot shrugged. "Eh, don't feel bad losing to an earth pony, Chill." She jabbed her fetlock into his ribs. "You should be feel bad for being such a lightweight in general."

Chill snorted, but he was smiling. "Oh, fuck you, Fleetfoot. I can handle a hell of a lot worse."

As I walked up to the group, Braeburn tilted his head back. In a low voice, he asked, "Wanna prove it?"

Wave Chill raised his eyebrows and swiveled his ears towards Braeburn. "Ooh! Whaddya got?"

Braeburn snickered. "Aw, you don't even… Oh, Soarin'!" He stopped leaning on the counter and waved me over, but his smile suddenly dropped. "Aw, hell! I forgot about gettin' y'all drinks! Sorry 'bout that." He flicked a hoof at the other 'Bolts. "Got caught up talkin' to these fine folks."

His cheeks were flushed. I told myself, 'It's okay. He's having a good time. Everything's fine.' I wrapped a wing around him and said, "No problem. What's up?"

Wave Chill punched Braeburn's shoulder and said, "Braeburn's a beast!"

Braeburn turned up his nose and said, in his thickest accent, "Ah am a gentlecolt, sir. Ain't that right, Soarin'?"

I felt a slight nagging at my heart. "You doing okay, Brae?"

"Okay-Brae's what they call me!" He giggled, but it was… different. "But I'm fine. You're sweet for askin'. You need anythin'?"

A raspy voice came from our side. "We'll, I'd like to finally say hello if you aren't busy." Spitfire sauntered up to our group with Fire Streak close behind. "Things have been crazy for all of us this week, but I'd like to officially welcome you to Cloudsdale. I hope the show was a warm enough welcome."

"Oh, certainly!" Braeburn nodded emphatically. "And you're right, it's nice to finally be able to talk to y'all. Without the papers chasin' us, I mean."

Fire Streak adjusted his wings and stood next to Spitfire. "Right. It's no small blessing that we made it through this week. How did it go for you?"

"Ugh, awful," Braeburn said as he twisted open another beer and took a swig.

Everyone went silent, and a few gazes flicked away from us.

Braeburn nearly spat his drink back into the bottle, and his eyes went wide. "Sorry! Wow, must be the beer talkin'." He set the bottle down on the counter. "Nah, it hasn't been that bad. Certainly been some rough patches, for sure, and I've spent a lot more time cursin' this week than usual, but I'm okay. Soarin's helpin' me get settled, and I'll be writin' a lot of letters back home this week to get caught up on everything."

Streak said, "Uh, what kind of stuff?" He did a little gesture with his hoof that looked completely mechanical, but it helped drain some of the remaining tension in the air.

"Oh, the orchard, the rails, and any big developments. See, I'm tryin' to build up Appleloosa into a trade town, and…" Braeburn stared wide-eyed at nothing for a second, then took another big drink of his beer. "…and I haven't hardly thought about all that work there is to do. Dammit, my head's been somewhere else lately."

Star Drop cuddled up next to Wave Chill, and she warmly said, "Well, what's Appleloosa like? I'm trying to get Chill to take some time off, and a weekend trip out there might be fun. What is there to do out there?"

Braeburn's eyes lit up.

He went off about Appleloosa and all its charms, from the peaceful mornings to the rowdy Saturday night dances, gesturing and smiling widely the whole time. There wasn't a single part of the town that he didn't mention, and everypony hung on his words. I got to chip in, too, at least about the weekend experience, and Braeburn was more animated than I'd seen him since Las Pegasus. His… voice got a little quiet when they asked him about his history there, and he sounded more wistful the more he talked, but he didn't stay down for long. We had a long, long conversation about living in the country, and by the end, both Chill and Streak had decided they wanted to visit.

"Well, we'd love to have you!" Braeburn said, setting down an empty beer bottle, the third one since I'd come into the kitchen. "Hoo! Sorry, feelin' like I've talked everypony's ears off." He shook his head, blinked a few times, and covered his mouth as he burped softly.

Surprise saddled up to Braeburn. She said, "Aw, we don't mind." She lowered her voice and drew out her words. "Kind of nice hearing about it from a big, strong, earth pony."

Fire shot through my veins, and I stared daggers at her.

"Well, if you like me, it might be worth takin' an amble out there sometime. Never know who you might find. Might even be a sexy pegasus for you."

Out of nowhere, I wanted to roar, and I wrapped a wing around Braeburn again, drawing him close and making him gasp slightly. It wasn't a conscious thing. I just… reacted. "Alright, alright," I said, trying to hide the acid in my voice. "Braeburn owes me a dance, and Holli's gonna kill me if I let him hide in the kitchen all night."

Braeburn shook his head and snickered. "Aw, she can kick me out if she wants to. And she hasn't–"

"You promised, Brae," I said woodenly, trying to sound bouncy and jokey. It didn't work.

"Well, the night's still young, right? We're in the middle of a conversation."

I could feel everypony's eyes on us, and my muscles felt like they were made of iron.

Holli called over from the table. "Well," she laughed, "It sounds like it's over now." She sauntered over. "And you do need to get outta here, Braeburn. I've been slacking, but that doesn't mean you don't have to show us how they dance out west."

I could almost feel the room collectively sigh. Holli's great for tense situations. Waitresses, right?

"Aw… If you say so, Miss Holli." Braeburn turned to the group and popped the collar of his pink shirt. "Pardon us, please. We've got a date on the dance floor. You're welcome to join in."

We moved out into the parlor, and a few of the ponies that were already there sat down to rest. The dancing started out pretty slowly at first, but it only took a song or two before everypony was stomping and swaying with the beat. Braeburn chuckled a little, and his hoofwork didn't quite match up with everypony else's, but nopony minded. Nopony really asked about his style, either, and for a while, we were all just having fun, dancing and sweating and feeling the small room get steadily hotter with the rhythmic movement of our bodies.

In the middle of a song, maybe an hour and a few beer breaks later, Wave Chill stumbled up to Braeburn and loudly said something in his ear. Braeburn nodded and started to walk away.

Instinctively, I reached out and grabbed his shoulder. He jumped a little, and I barked over the music, "Where are you going?"

He snorted and brought his face to my ear. "Calm the hell down, Soarin'. He just wants to talk."

His tone irked me, and I quickly said, "I'll come with."

He snorted. "I'll be fine."

"No, you–"

"Dammit!" he said through gritted teeth. He grunted and shook out his mane, then sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He looked at me with his piercing eyes. They didn't sparkle; they were flecked with fire. "You said it was my party, Soarin', and I'd like to actually make a few friends. Chill's nice. I'll be okay." He hugged me. It wasn't warm, though. It felt forced. "Sorry for yellin'. We'll just be a little while, okay? I'll come find you when we're done."

I sighed and shook my head. 'The buck is wrong with me? This is good. Making friends will help him feel more at home here. He needs this.'

I looked back at him and forced myself to smile. "You're right. Sorry I'm so paranoid." I didn't believe myself, but I didn't want to fight. I did sincerely mean it when I said, "I just want you to be okay, you know?"

He smiled and said, "Thanks. You're sweet." He kissed me hard on the lips, and his breath smelled like shots. "I'll be fine."

I watched him walk all the way down the hall and out the door with Wave Chill. They were already talking about something by the time the door closed.

The room felt oddly still around me, and I didn't realize I was staring until Fire Streak nudged my side with his nose. "Looks like you need a new partner," he half-shouted over the loud music. "Wanna borrow mine while I get some water?"

Spitfire appeared on my opposite side, and I asked, "You dance now?"

"I'm learning," she said calmly.

Fire Streak walked away, and Spitfire and I danced together. Nothing too salacious, and we stayed near the edge of the room so we could talk, but it was happening: we were both dancing together at a party with other Wonderbolts. Spitfire moved gracefully, and leave it to her to find the beat exactly. Even if she wasn't doing anything advanced, she found the groove. We both did, and in some ways, it reminded me of our first couple shows as co-captains.

I looked her up and down. "You do dance!"

She smiled. "And you need to keep your eyes up here if you don't want Streak kicking your ass."

I laughed. "Yes, ma'am. You having a good time?"

Without missing a beat, she turned a thought over in her head. "Surprisingly? Yeah. It helps that I didn't come here alone." She chuckled. "But since Streak's staying here tonight, I suppose I'm leaving alone, aren't I?"

I looked over and saw Misty Fly, who had completely lost herself in the music, and I wondered if she'd catch a ride with some of our teammates. "You know, I don't think you have to."

She smiled at me. "I'm not spending the night, Soarin'."

I snickered. "Good. I don't want Streak to lose his V-card on my couch."

Spitfire and I laughed right as Streak walked up to me. He glared at me. "Fuck you, bro. Besides: Candy Stripe. Back in school."

"The one who lives in Caneighda, right?" I punched him lightly. "Nah, I know, bro. Hey, has Spitfire heard that story?"

"Save it for later, Streak," she said as she wandered off to the side. The three of us gathered away from the dancing crowd, and she added, "How are you doing, Soarin'? It's been a long week."

"I'm okay," I said. My eyes darted towards the front door. "Just worried about Braeburn."

Streak asked, "Why?"

For some reason, I felt this incredible urge to lie about… something. Just to, like… say that something was wrong with him and that I was being his big, strong stallion, and that I had everything under control. I shook that feeling off and said, "Eh, he'll be okay." I hadn't stopped looking at the door, though. "I hope he's okay."

Streak asked, "Maybe he just needs some space?"

That feeling came back: that same feeling I'd had when Holli and Braeburn were talking about his pink shirt. It made Braeburn seem far away, and for a second, I wondered if I'd open the door and find that he was gone. My pulse skipped a beat, and I said, "I'm gonna go check on him."

Spitfire waved a hoof. "He'll be fine, Soarin'. He's survived a lot more than… Soarin'?"

I had already walked away.

Those thoughts kept nagging at me, all the way to the front door. When I opened it, Braeburn and Wave Chill sat on the front step, looking at the stars and laughing and leaning on each other. Wave Chill had an open flask in one hoof, and his words were slurred. "Brae, I… I dun think I can go through with it." The flask had an apple etched onto it. His head turned to me, and his ears folded flat against his head. "Uh… Hey, Soarin'!" His goofy smile turned into a forced grimace.

Braeburn wrapped a hoof around Chill and head-butted his shoulder. His words were slurred, too, and he wobbled. "Relax," he said, looking at me. "Big Blue ain't in any position to judge." They snickered to each other, leaning on each other for support.

"What…" I took a deep breath and told myself not to get angry. "What's up?" I said as casually as I could. I sat down with them and tried to wrap a wing around Braeburn and separate him from Wave Chill.

But Braeburn shrugged me off and kept a foreleg around him. "Little space, please. Feelin'…" He saw me frown, then said, "Aw, not like that, Big Blue! C'mere!"

"Gah!" I shouted as Braeburn tackled me. My back slammed into the cloud beneath us, and he started kissing my stomach and sucking on my neck. He rubbed his body all over mine as he moaned into my chest. I finally put a hoof on his shoulder. "Uh… Braeburn?"

"Hm?" He tried to kiss my face, and he finally hit his mark on the fourth try. "Oh! Oh, shoot, sorry. Where are my manners?" He sat back up and looked at Chill. "We weren't done yet." Braeburn wiped some drool from his face.

Wave Chill was blushing, but it might have been the booze. He waved a hoof slowly but erratically. "It's… It's okay, Braeburn." His eyes looked red, and he kept nearly tipping over. It took him several awkward tries to screw the flask's cap back on and set it down. "I appreciate your advice."

I asked, "What's up?" I really, really wanted Braeburn in my wings. He seemed so… volatile.

Braeburn said, "Wave Chill here – great guy – he was askin' for some…" He leaned into me and loudly whispered, "…advice!" His breath reeked of booze.

Wave Chill looked away. "You don't need to tell him. Don't worry about it."

I pursed my lips and raised an eyebrow. "What kind of advice? Everything okay?"

"Just…" Chill started tapping his hoof and looking at the ground. "Don't worry about it. It's just some things that Star Drop wanted to–"

"They wanna try butt stuff!" Braeburn blurted out. It echoed around the neighborhood, and I could see all the color drain from Chill's face. Braeburn punched Chill on the foreleg. "She's already got toys and everything!"

"Dude!" Wave Chill shouted, his face twisted and his jaw wide open. He fell to the ground, then quickly scrambled up and pointed a hoof at Braeburn. "Not cool! Soarin's my freaking boss!" Chill stared at me, eyes unfocused. "I'm sorry! I'm super sorry! I–"

Braeburn waved a hoof at him. "Pfft. Like I was sayin', Soarin's in no place to judge." He nuzzled me. "Hell, he likes gettin' screwed blindfolded, and that's at least a half-step more extreme."

Wave Chill and I… Okay. Imagine walking in on your naked roommate and making direct eye contact.

While your roommate's making out with a framed picture.

Of your mom.

Wearing lingerie, signed with an X.

…while you're making out with a picture of their mom.

And neither of you can stop kissing it.

Thaaaat's about what it felt like.

Wave Chill finally grimaced, ears down. "Uh…" He looked to the side. "I'm… going to get some dessert." He quickly stood and mumbled, "Thanks for the, uh… a-advice, Brae. And the moonshine. I'm… yeah." He half-ran, half-stumbled back into the house.

The light breeze wound between the houses, making a small rustling noise that was only broken by Braeburn wiggling and laughing into my side.

I felt cold, even with him pressed up against me. Flatly, I asked, "Applebutt, how much have you had tonight?"

"Ain't hardly had any. Was thinkin' I might save it for somethin' special, but–" He burped, and it smelled like rotten lemons. "Sorry. Wind Chill wanted to try some."

"No, I mean… how much have you had to drink tonight?"

"Heh. Lot more than that candy-ass Chill." He mumbled, "Tell me how many shots an earth pony can take…"

The music pulsed behind us in the house. A few night birds squawked far below the clouds. Gently, I put a hoof on his shoulder. I didn't look at him as I said, "Brae… you need to stop."

"Dammit!" he snapped. "Really, Soarin'?" He pulled away and scowled at me. "I been stuck up here all week, and I finally get out of the… Out of… I finally get to have some fun, meet some ponies I can finally f… fuckin' relate to, and you want me to quit? I'm… Dammit!" He threw his head back, but he tipped over and fell to the ground. Quickly, he stumbled to his hooves and rubbed his temple with his hoof. "Sorry. Dammit, you're right, you're right." He grunted. "I gotta sober up. This ain't what I…" He sighed loudly. "I gotta be better. I wanna be better, not like this. Not in front of your friends."

My wings drooped, and my voice felt weak in my mouth. "They're… your friends, too." I stood up next to him. "We can talk–"

"You like dancin', right?" He scooped up his flask, stabilized himself, and looked at me. There were bags under his eyes, and he was sweating. "Let's go dance. Gimme somethin' else to do. Take my mind of puttin' on airs. Teach me?"

I paused and felt a knot in my heart. "Sure."

He grabbed my hoof and pulled me inside.

Silver Lining had taken over as DJ, and when we walked in, six or seven other ponies were dancing tightly together in the parlor. They'd pushed everything aside, and they were jumping and head-banging to the beat. Star Drop was grinding on Wave Chill, and Fire Streak had gotten Spitfire to bounce a little along the fringes. Braeburn dragged me to the middle, and we danced.

And he danced hard. He looked like he was completely entranced, and he threw his head and his body aggressively. He stomped the hardest, tossed his mane wildly, and thrashed his tail around, only barely finding the beat.

I tried to do like he did, so that maybe the others wouldn't keep glancing at us, but… I wasn't feeling it. My shirt was drenched with sweat from the hot room, and one of my favorite songs was playing, but I just couldn't. With the way he was dancing, I couldn't get close to him, and I found myself swaying along and just staring at his expression. Even in the dark and with all the movement, it wasn't hard to make out. His eyes were wrenched shut. His nose was scrunched. His mouth was locked into a deep frown, and he only broke it to suck in the occasional giant breath.

We kept dancing, and between two songs late in the night, Braeburn shuffled to me and said, "I need to use the bathroom."

My heart jumped. I felt that something was off, and I asked, "Do you want any help?"

He snorted. "Soarin', you know I love it when you grab me down there–" A few eyes snapped to us, but everypony else pretended not to notice. Silver Lining quickly threw on another track. "But maybe I can just do this one thing myself?"

I shrunk. He was trying to get away from me. I knew I wasn't imagining it, but at the same time, could I really blame him? I wondered if he wouldn't have had so much to drink if I'd just left him alone. Or would that have just made things worse? I didn't know. I still don't. Sometimes you never find out if you made the right call.

Quietly, I mumbled, "Okay."

Braeburn didn't say anything as he went up the stairs, tightly gripping the banister and taking another quick pull from his flask.

For almost a minute, I found myself stranded and alone in the middle of a room of dancing ponies. Braeburn was right: I knew what it meant to be lonely in the middle of a crowd.

I shuffled into the kitchen and sat at the table, where Fleetfoot and High Winds were talking. Both looked like they were ready to fall over, and as I sat down, Fleetfoot said, "Great party, Soarin'." Her lisp was more pronounced than usual, and her breath smelled like cider. "You should mysteriously disappear more often."

I gave her the benefit of the doubt and slumped. "Yeah. Sure."

High Winds lowered her head to look at me. "You doing okay? Where's Braeburn."

I sank a little lower. "Bathroom. He's… probably ready to call it a night."

"Yeah, we were thinking about heading out, too, but I don't know if Fleet's good to fly."

Fleetfoot sneered. "I'm good, Winds."

I waved a hoof. "It's cool. I've got a cab out there. He's on the payroll tonight, so you should probably just let him take you home."

She shrugged. "Whatever."

They talked for a while about… something. I don't know. Work, maybe? I tried to nod along, but a couple minutes later, Fleetfoot raised an eyebrow at me. "You're quiet tonight, Soarin'. I'm not gonna have to dump you into a motel again, am I?"

"No, you won't. And thanks." I sat up and rubbed my eyes while I took a deep breath. "I'll be fine."

"Okay. Just as long as you can fly on Monday." She looked behind me. "Oh, hey, Sightseer!"

I turned around and saw Sightseer. His grey wings were folded tightly in, and he hesitantly stepped up to me. His lips were pursed, and he whispered. "Um, Soarin'? I think you should check on Braeburn."

I stumbled to my hooves. Loudly, I asked, "Is he okay? What happened?"

Sightseer recoiled a little and said, "He's… out back. Spitfire's with him right now."

"Thanks, Sightseer!" I started to sprint out of the kitchen towards the back door, but then I paused. 'Braeburn wouldn't want a scene.' I ran out the front door and quickly flew around the house. The cool air stung, and I landed in my backyard near the porch.

Spitfire was out there, sitting hunched over and speaking softly to Braeburn, who was lying on the ground and covering his face with his forehooves. A flask sat next to him, tipped over, open, and empty. As I got closer, I saw that Braeburn was shaking.

Spitfire stood up, walked to me, and whispered, "I'll watch the door. Let me know if I should call an ambulance."

I mouthed, "Thank you." Spitfire went back inside. I could hear the loud music as she opened the door, but soon, it was muffled again. I sat down next to Braeburn and gently caressed his back with my wing. Softly, I said, "Hey, Braeburn. It's okay. I'm right here."

He was sobbing, and he didn't take his forehooves off his face. Softly, slowly, he whimpered, "There's no trees. 'S no trees."

I hadn't quite heard him. "I'm sorry, Braeburn. What was that?"

Louder, he sobbed, "There's no trees!" His head rolled back and forth under his hooves, and his words dripped like tears out of his mouth. "Nopony wants to talk about trees. They're… they're really impor'ant!"

As gently as I could, I said, "We can talk about trees if you want to, Braeburn." I felt like I was back in the Academy, taking care of one of my squad mates. "Wanna talk about apple trees?"

"No… Nopony knows about… about trees. They don't know how you… how to take care of 'em. Nopony wants to talk about 'em. Or how t' take care of 'em." He swallowed hard. "They can't… grow here."

My chest felt tight, and even though he was next to me, Braeburn felt so far away. "I'm sorry, Braeburn." I fished around in my mind for anything to say. "I'll… get you some trees."

Braeburn took one of his hooves from his face, then wrapped a foreleg around my hind leg. He hugged it tightly and pressed his face into my flank, and as he did, his horseshoes clicked together and glowed faintly for a second. His face was sweaty, and his voice was muffled, like he was barely parting his lips. "You're too good to me. You're really… I don't know, but it's nice, and y… you're too nice." He clung to me tightly, but the rest of his body had gone slack.

"Thanks, Braeburn." My insides felt hollow, and I knew from experience that when you're that far gone, there's not much anypony can do for you but just be there. As much as I wanted to hug him and carry him right to bed, I knew how dangerous that would be for both of us. Instead, I kept stroking his back and telling myself to be strong for him. "You're a good pony."

"I'm a f-fuckin' drunk!" he sobbed, pressing his face harder into my flank. "No good. 'm worthless. Fucked up, stupid drunk. Wings w-was… Wings was right."

My heart hurt even more, and to this day, I thank Luna I didn't realize who "Wings" was. I started to say, "Braeburn, you're amazing. You're the best thing that's–"

"I wanna go home."

My blood filled with ice.

Braeburn let go and wobbled up to a sitting position next to me and facing away from the condo. "No! I'm sorry. I shouldn'ta said that. You're sassa… se… Ugh…" He shook his head. "It hurts you." He leaned his head on me. "I don't wanna hurt you. I wanna tough it out. You're nice. I love you. I love you, Soarin'." He wiped a tear with my shoulder. "I love you. A lot. A lot."

He was shivering slightly, so I covered him with my wing. "Thanks, Brae. I… love you, too."

Braeburn pulled away from me. He looked down. His eyes were watering, and they'd grown so dull, so different from just a few hours before. He wasn't sobbing anymore. Instead, he was sucking in big breaths and shivering, and he was sweating profusely. "Guh… Hrm–" He cleared his throat. "G… garbage. Quickly, please."

I was already on it. I knew the signs, and by the time he'd finished saying it, I'd brought my metal garbage can over and tipped it towards him.

Braeburn gripped the can tightly with his forelegs, and his voice was choked between his labored breaths. "Any… Hrng!" He swallowed. "Anypony l-lookin'?"

I looked back and saw Spitfire facing away, blocking the back door. "No, we're–"

"HRRGLK!" Braeburn dipped his head forward and retched, the awful sound accompanied by the hollow, tinny rattle of vomit splashing into the garbage. "Gmuh!" he gasped as the air filled with a putrid, sour smell. Braeburn's hooves shook on either side of the can, and he let out shaky breaths. "Oh…" he moaned. "Oh, dammit. O-oh fughLRGHK!" He puked again into the can, then sobbed into it.

I gently stroked his back and quietly said, "It's okay, Applebutt. Get it all out." I held up a wing between him and the door. "We're safe. Nopony can see us."

He cried into the garbage, then vomited again, less this time, then hawked and spit some of the bile into the can. He spit a few more times.

"It's okay," I said. I shut out everything else that was going on in my mind. There were a million ways to read what was happening, and none of them were good. All the thoughts about him and Appleloosa and Bronze kept pressing in on me like I'd stumbled into a giant thunderhead, but I clenched my eyes and shut them all out. Braeburn needed me. "It's okay."

Braeburn breathed into the can for a few more seconds, then softly said, "Sorry, Big B... Nnng…" He whined and groaned, and after spitting up a little more, he had to try about four times before he managed to say, "I'll clean it. Clean it… it all up. Tomorrow."

My wings drooped at my sides. "Don't worry about it."

His voice echoed in the can. "You muss… muss think I'm a… I'm an asshole."

"No!" I hugged him. "It's fine, Braeburn. Really. It happens." I kissed his shoulder, desperate to make him feel closer.

He sighed. "Dizzy, Soarin'. World's… spinnin'." He heaved again, shook his head, and whined.

I kissed his neck. The smell was overwhelmingly sour. "How do I make it better?"

Braeburn shook his head in the can. "There's no trees."

My body felt heavy. "What?"

"Can't help. No trees."

I looked out at my small backyard, just big enough to warrant a fence. Of course there weren't any trees, not near my place or anypony else's. I sighed. "I know, Braeburn. And I'm sorry." I really was.

He mumbled, "There's no… no trees."

My insides felt like they were turning over, but even so, I knew Braeburn's stomach felt worse. "Let's go to bed, Applebutt."

He sucked in two more breaths before he pulled his head out of the garbage can and set it upright. "Yeah…" He stumbled as he stood, but I caught him. "Aw, hell. I'm sorry, Soarin'." He cleared his throat and squinted. I could see him try to piece together the words, and he kept sweeping his head back and forth. "I made… I made a mess of things. I'm a mess. I… Ugh, I'm terrible."

"It's fine, Brae."

"I w-wanna say goodbyes. Please?" He looked at me with dull, unfocused eyes. "I don't wanna go without… bein'… polite. Could you get me a napkin? I'm too gross…"

I wiped the vomit off his face with my sleeve. "You're not gross, and you look great."

"Heh. Are you… are you… even lookin' at me?"

I kissed him on the lips. I didn't care about the taste. "Don't have to. I just know."

He sobbed again, but he smiled, too, and his head shook slowly. "You're too good, Big Blue."

I led him to the door, where he stood up straight, if a little wobbly. He went in by himself, stiff-faced.

Spitfire turned to us. "You okay, Braeburn?"

Braeburn nodded. He chose his words carefully. "I am," he said slowly, struggling to keep eye contact. "But I think I've… had enough fun… for tonight." He took two big breaths and straightened up again. "Sorry 'bout how I acted." He sounded mostly lucid, and it made me wonder how many times he'd gone around Appleloosa when he'd been like this.

Spitfire smiled. "You're fine, Braeburn. Soarin's done way worse than this."

"Thank you for visiting." He bowed, then walked past. "Have a good night."

We quickly went through the condo and said goodbye to everypony. It was almost three in the morning, and most of the team started leaving, even after Braeburn told them they could stay. Blaze had kept her cab on retainer, too, and between the two of us, we paid to get everypony home safely.

And yes. After Spitfire had kissed Fire Streak goodnight, she left with Misty Fly and Blaze, and they were laughing as they stepped into the cab.

I walked Braeburn up to our bedroom. He gracelessly flopped onto the bed, and I got him some water before tucking him in. "Thanks, Big Blue."

"No problem, Applebutt." I sat on the bed next to him.

"Sorry fo–"

"Braeburn, stop." I stroked his back. "It's fine. But…" Something tore at my insides, and now that he was safely in bed, I couldn't hold it in. "Braeburn? Do you… hate it here?"

He groaned. "This ain't the time, Soarin'."

"Yeah," I said firmly. "It is."

Eyes closed, Braeburn grabbed my hoof. "I ain't gonna leave over a few trees."

…

Earth ponies are amazing, aren't they?

For a second, everything on my mind flitted away. "Thanks, Braeburn." I kissed his forehead. "G'night. I'll be up soon. Love you."

"Love you, too." He sighed and was out like a light.

With a last look at Braeburn, I went back downstairs. Fire Streak, Sightseer, and Holli were the only ones left. They'd turned off the music and done a pretty great job of cleaning up the bottles and plates. And the best part? Clouds don't stain.

My body wanted to fall apart, and Holli looked like she'd tip over. She sat at the table while Sightseer finished a few dishes, and I said, "Go home, Holli."

She giggled. "You're just sayin' that so I'll disobey and spend the whole night cleaning. Nice try." She winked at me.

"You got me," I said. "But don't you have work tomorrow?"

"Took it off, but you're right. I think I'm ready to head out. Extra food's in the fridge."

"Thanks for everything." I nodded at Sightseer as he put the last of the dishes on the drying rack and hung up the towel. "Both of you."

Holli stood, sauntered up to me, and kissed my nose. "No problem, Sugar. Have a good night." She called into the parlor. "Nice meeting you, Fire Streak!"

Streak stuck his head in, and I could see a bag of bottles in one hoof. "You, too!"

Holli put on her saddlebags and waved over her shoulder as she walked to the cab, which had just gotten back. She climbed inside.

Sightseer grabbed his things and stopped in the doorway, his saddlebags over his back and holding a glass bowl that had long been empty. "Thanks for the party, Soarin'. Is… Braeburn going to be okay?"

I sighed. "Yeah, he'll be okay."

He stuck a lower lip out. "He seemed kinda sad about living he–"

"He's fine, Sightseer." I ran a hoof through my mane. "But thanks. I'll let him know you were worried about him."

He paused, then held out a hoof. "Alright. Thanks again, Captain."

I bumped his hoof, wished him a good night, and closed the door behind him. I walked into the parlor just as Streak returned from dumping the rest of the bottles into the recycling. We collapsed onto the couch together, and Streak said, "Great party, bro."

"Thanks, bro." We shared a hoof-bump.

"Braeburn okay?"

I snorted, then sighed. "Yeah, he'll be okay." Half of me wanted to talk with him, but the other, more tired half was barely functioning, and honestly, I just wanted the night to be over. "You remember where the blankets are?"

Fire Streak rubbed his eyes. "Yeah. Good night, Soarin'. And great job at the show."

"You, too, Captain."

We gave each other a half-hearted salute, and Streak curled up on the couch. I forced myself up the stairs, brushed my teeth, and joined Braeburn in bed.

You get it, right? I was worried about him. I cared about how he was doing, about his happiness. I really did.

But I'm not a good pony. I'm not a good coltfriend. If I was, I would have seen the red flags. I would have realized how hard this was on him, and I would have stopped worrying about my own fucking desires and made the right choice. I would have stayed up all night, agonizing over how to make it right and asking myself the question I already knew the answer to. I would have seen the big picture.

But I didn't. Instead, I fell asleep thinking about how to plant a tree.

Chapter 43 - Fools' Gold

The next couple days were… incredible, really. Braeburn agreed to go on a date at the Baltimare Summer Sun Celebration that weekend, and as soon as he had, something in the air changed. Or maybe I just wasn't holding everything in anymore. Either way, things started going back to normal late that night. I got my pie, and we slept easily.

On Wednesday, I took my lunch break to plan out everything, and fortunately, a couple of the secretaries had some extra free time. I asked them to send a few well-placed letters and call in a few favors. By the time I was done with work, all I had to do was fill in a few gaps in my plan, which I was able to figure out on the flight home.

Braeburn and I spent time together again that night, and everything felt like it was supposed to again. We went grocery shopping without an escort, and besides a few fans, nopony bothered us. We cooked together, too, and even though I kept screwing up on the glaze for the fruit, Braeburn patiently helped me start over. We even cuddled for over an hour and fell asleep spooning.

And… Braeburn didn't drink. I wasn't keeping tabs on him or anything, but he was his usual self all night, and his breath wasn't sour. It made it easier, because our date seemed so far away. I was plummeting straight for the ground, but I couldn't see it yet. It was like it was hidden behind a giant cover of clouds, and it might as well have not been real. The day passed in the blink of an eye.

And Thursday was just as weirdly normal, too. I woke up to the smell of fried hay and cheese, and Braeburn and I talked about low-moisture farming throughout the whole meal. Braeburn offered to clean up as he walked me to the door. After a slight hesitation, he kissed me goodbye. "You gonna be back at your usual time, Big Blue? I'm thinkin' of makin' vagrants' bindles tonight."

I nuzzled him back. "I have no idea what that is, but I'll be here, Applebutt."

It felt bizarrely comfortable, like nothing had changed at all, like it had always been like this and we'd never fought about his drinking or how controlling I'd been. The world was serene, like an ornament that spins on a tree. The movement was slow and peaceful, and everything felt delicate and right.

But Braeburn was moving slower when I showed up at home that night. "Hey, Blue," he said in a low tone, his shoulders sagging as he took the bindles out of the oven. They were beautiful: bound, breaded asparagus spears stuck out of a large, knotted dumpling, like you could sling one over your shoulder and travel across the country.

I shook out my mane, pushing away a stray thought. My ear flicked as I focused on Braeburn again. "Uh, hey," I said as I set my saddlebag down. "You okay? It's okay if you had a drink today. I'm not disappointed."

Braeburn chuckled and shook his head. "Heh. You're not much of a disciplinarian, then, Blue." He set the bindles onto the plates. "But naw. I didn't touch it today. Just…" He shook his head and looked up at me with bright eyes. "These'll need to cool. Should leave us enough time to work through some comprehension exercises. You up for it?"

I tilted my head, and my wings itched. "Uh, sure!" I believed him about not drinking, but something gnawed at me. As we worked through the activity sheet together, seated side by side, I thought, 'We're not going to do this again, are we? We… only have a few days left.' My body felt heavy, and I kept dropping the pencil. He could feel it, too, and there was more silence between us than there had been for days.

Braeburn finally said something over dinner after we'd taken a few bites. The velvety dough and thick stew was melting in my mouth. "You're quiet tonight, Big Blue. Looks like you've been drinkin' as much as me."

I looked down as I lazily pushed my asparagus around the plate. "Thinking about our date."

Braeburn paused. "You still haven't told me what's up with that."

My eyes closed involuntarily. 'I don't want you to worry. Please don't worry.' I forced myself to perk up and smile. "Oh, no. You're not ruining the surprise that easily."

Braeburn just smiled at me, and it didn't come up again.

But I couldn't focus on us that night, even when we cuddled later that evening. I'd felt calm all day, but the closer it got to bed time, the more those thoughts rose to the top of my head. It started as a heart flutter and became a few lucid moments of anxiety, where my skin felt all wrong, and I had to keep reminding myself that I had a beautiful stallion wrapped around me. Braeburn had to spoon me for over an hour just so I could fall asleep. Held securely in his forelegs, I was able to put off thinking about the date a little longer.

But it really hit me on Friday morning while we were packing for the weekend. I set my black shirt, the one from Las Pegasus, into my suitcase, and… I just stopped. Stopped breathing, stopped moving. I was paralyzed. My heart felt like it would beat out of my chest, and my legs started shaking. Braeburn looked at me from across the bed. "What's wrong, Soarin'?"

I was dizzy. 'This is happening. I don't want to do this. I don't want to do this to either of us. We've been great this week.' Excuses crept into my thoughts. 'It could be like this all the time. He's getting better, and so am I. I could cancel everything. I should cancel–'

I sucked in a quick breath, slammed the suitcase closed, then I looked up and smiled. "I don't want to spoil it."

Braeburn frowned. "Soarin', you don't…" He trailed off and looked away.

My wings stiffened a bit, and my head lowered. "What?"

Braeburn shook his head and smiled back at me. "Nothin'. It's gonna be a great weekend."

Braeburn had packed almost everything he owned, which admittedly wasn't a lot: he had his clothes, his pink Las Pegasus shirt, toiletries, his writing equipment ("In case I want to work on my report"), and a few other trinkets. He left his flask, though, saying he didn't want to be tempted, and I was proud of him. I was glad he was a thorough packer, but it still pained me to see that suitcase with so much of his life in it, ready to slip away.

As we were leaving, I glanced into the parlor and hesitated. "Whitewing's Big Score" was still on the shelf. I thought about grabbing it, but I didn't want to be suspicious. 'I can send it to him later, when–' I wouldn't let myself finish, and as much as I wanted Braeburn to be able to take one last look at our home, I didn't think I could hold myself together for long enough. I rushed us out the door and locked it with a trembling hoof.

The sky cab down to Manehattan was silent. Braeburn and I looked out our respective windows, a gulf between us. Maybe it was for the best, though. I was wrestling with my thoughts the whole way, and as much as a cold pain at the back of my mind kept telling me to call the date off, I told myself, 'You've got to do this, Stormcloud. For Braeburn.'

Fortunately for my sanity, the other 'Bolts met us at the train station shortly after we arrived, and management quickly herded us into the cars. Braeburn and I got a small cabin to share with Streak and Spitfire. The ride would only take a couple hours, but everypony was just kinda bleh. Maybe it was the fact that we hadn't had practice that day, or maybe I was just projecting again, but the whole world felt overcast.

After a few minutes of conversation, we all pulled out books to read. Streak had a nonfiction book about the first Summer Sun Celebration, and Spitfire had one of those classics, "Hoof of Darkness." When they saw that I was reading "Happy Puppy's Big Adventure," though, they exchanged quick glances and slowly slid their books back into their saddlebags.

We ended up swapping stories about past Summer Sun Celebrations for the rest of the trip. The conversation was wooden, though, and as thankful as I was for the distraction, I knew it was only a matter of time before it all crashed down on me.

As some point, Spitfire said to Streak, "You should be proud of yourself, Fire Streak. Not many captains get to lead in the Summer Sun show so quickly."

Streak smiled and shrugged. "Yeah. Maybe sometime I'll actually get to lead the real show."

My eyes widened. 'Wait… shit.'

Spitfire held up a hoof to Streak's chest. "Hold on, captain. Every show is a real show. Just because the Saturday morning performance is shorter doesn't–"

"Actually," I interjected. They both turned to me, and I said, "Uh, bro? Mind if I take the lead from you on Saturday? You can have Sunday."

Streak blinked at me. "Uh… sure? Why, though?"

Braeburn cocked an eyebrow at me. "This part of your plan for our date, Soarin'?"

I stifled a scream. 'No, it's just the last show of mine you'll ever see.' I shook my head and swallowed the lump in my throat. "Kinda. Just…" I looked up. "You've got this, Streak. You deserve to be the star this weekend."

Streak blinked a few times, then he puffed up his chest and forced a smile. "Uh, sure! Thanks, bro. I won't let you down."

I leaned into Braeburn with my shoulder. "It's gonna be great. Hope you don't mind waking up early."

Braeburn's eyes were wide and sad, but he smiled. "You forget who you're talkin' to? Wakin' up at sunrise counts as sleepin' in where I'm from." He pressed against me. "I'd never miss it."

The train station in Baltimare was crazy with ponies there for the celebration, and it took us longer to get to the hotel room with our security escorts than it had to take the train to Baltimare. We got to the hotel room after sunset, and management ordered room service for all of us so we wouldn't need to go out. Wave Chill tried to get us to sneak out with him, but we weren't really into it. Instead, we just went with our escort up to our hotel room.

The room was pretty simple. We were used to living in style, but the military tends to give up the most luxurious rooms when we perform alongside civilians. With all the music performers and other VIPs taking up the suites, we were left with the more normal room. The 'Bolts don't mind, though. It's just courtesy.

Our room had a coffee table, a minibar, and a writing desk, along with one of those ugly, awkward chairs that always take up too much space. There was a bathroom with an extra-large shower and smooth tile everywhere. The gem lamps were a soft yellow color, and the bed was a king-sized, like I'd requested. For a second, my mind flashed back to the hotel in Appleloosa.

We both collapsed onto the clean sheets as soon as we walked into the room, letting our bags drop onto either side of it. Braeburn moaned as he rolled onto his back and rubbed his temples with his forehooves. "Hoo! Don't know why I'm so tired after sittin' all day."

I was on my stomach with my chin resting on a pillow. "Eh, travel's stressful. I think it's all the unfamiliar noises and stuff. Messes with your head." I turned my face towards him. "Heh. Remember the train ride to Ponyville? We went freaking nuts."

Braeburn chuckled. "Ha! How could I forget? That was when you got that scary bruise outta nowhere." He turned on his side and scooted a little closer, pawing at my shoulder. "Least it wasn't as bad as ridin' to my parents' house with a sleepy pegasus on top of me. I was convinced I'd have to drag you in and flop you down in front of 'em."

"Hey! I needed beauty rest." I scooted closer and bumped him with my nose. "We were both stressed, and I didn't want them to think I was some sleep-deprived lunatic."

Braeburn leaned in closer, and our noses touched. "But you are a sleep-deprived lunatic."

I batted him playfully with my hoof. When I set it down, it rested on his. "Well, yeah, but I didn't want to seem like one. And I think I did pretty well. Your dad likes me, and I think your mom came around, so I didn't come off as totally insane, at least."

Braeburn smiled and ran his free hoof through my mane, crawling just a bit closer to do so. He flicked his tail, which landed on mine. "Maybe, but would a sane pony come crashing through an apple orchard and steal a poor little earth pony's heart like you did?"

I closed the gap between us and wrapped my legs around him. "I dunno. What kind of whack job would follow him all across Equestria and live in a place with no trees?"

Braeburn snickered. "He'd have to be pretty in love to do somethin' like that." We nuzzled each other and shared an easy, quiet laugh. When he rubbed his face against my neck, I could swear it felt a little wet. "I'm not really sure what your plans are for tomorrow, but do you… wanna do it tonight?"

I sighed. "Yeah, but…" My blood was already beginning to pump harder, but I said, "Maybe we should save it for tomorrow."

Braeburn shrugged. "Yeah. Makes sense."

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

We lay there, looking into each other eyes with our tails flicking behind us and our bodies pressed together, and I saw him. Like, I saw him again, sharing a bed with me, and we exchanged sad, exhausted smiles. It's amazing to me how you can fall in love with somepony over and over and over again, and all it takes is a look.

We didn't stand a chance. I fell asleep exhausted, sticky, and satisfied, my coltfriend holding me close.

* * * * *

Soarin' sits, head down, eyes closed, and with a hoof on his forehead. He calmly takes a deep breath, then lets it out slowly through his mouth with a whoosh noise. He softly sets his hoof down and looks to the horizon. "I woke up in Braeburn's forelegs, just a few minutes before the wake-up call."

* * * * *

My shoulder felt hot and wet. Braeburn had wrapped his lips around it, and as he breathed, he suckled on it slightly. My head swam with that warm, fuzzy delirium you get right after waking up, when it's just you and your lover in the warm covers together. I held still, letting Braeburn keep nibbling on me until we heard a knock and a pony shouting about a wake-up call.

Braeburn startled, and as he shifted behind me, I said a raspy, "Yeah, we're up." The attendant didn't respond, so I stretched out my legs in front of me while the heaviness in my body dissolved. I blinked a few times and saw faint city lights outside the window. We hadn't closed the curtains, and since it was, you know, the Summer Sun Celebration, we had to wake up hours before sunrise.

Braeburn smacked his lips. "Hm? Aw, shoot." He wiped my shoulder with his fetlock. "Sorry, Big Blue. Hope I didn't keep you up."

"Nah. I liked it." I rolled halfway back and grabbed his head, bringing him in for a long, wet kiss. He had a little of my fur in his mouth. We parted, and I brushed his face. "Morning, Applebutt. Sleep well?"

Braeburn paused. His ear flicked, and finally, he smiled. "Ya' know, yeah. I did. Surprisingly." He scooted closer and hugged my head to his chest. "I had a pretty good pillow."

I mashed my face into his warm chest. 'I love this,' I thought. 'Favorite part of the morn–'

I stiffened.

Braeburn's voice got lower. "Somethin' wrong, Blue?" He squeezed tighter.

'Don't blow it.' I took a deep breath. "Just… remembering what day it is. Date day." It wasn't technically lying, but those words felt heavy in my mouth. The world came flooding back, and I realized that I might have just woken up next to Braeburn for the last time. Even as I clung to him, I still felt cold.

"…Sure," he said stiffly. He kissed the top of my head. "But you have a show first, right?"

"Yeah, it's…" I looked up at his sparkling eyes. "I'll make it the best."

He stroked my neck and massaged me between my wings. "Heh. Then, uh, you don't wanna be late. Shower?"

My eyes batted. "Together?"

He smiled. "Of course."

We stumbled to the shower, and I turned it on. The hot steam quickly filled the small room, and we climbed in together. For a moment, neither of us made a move. We just stood there with our bodies pressed together, feeling the soothing heat wake us up together.

But once I realized how long we'd been standing there, I grabbed the soap and a rag. I took my time cleaning him, and I gently touched all over, appreciating his thick shoulders, his bright face, strong legs, fantastic ass, and his soft tail. I explored every curvature of his body, and a few times, I caught myself frowning and shaking my head, and I gave him an extra-long kiss when I was done. Braeburn gave me the same treatment, even preening my wings near the joints where I can never reach. He even sang a little song as he did it, and these days, I sing that same song every time I shower.

We dried off, and Braeburn helped me put on my flight suit. He looked up at my ear. "Want me to take care of that?"

I glanced up to where the little yellow stud hugged my ear comfortably. "Yes, please."

Gently, he took my stud out and discreetly pinned it inside my suit, next to my heart. "You look–" His voice cracked. He looked away, then quickly stepped forward and hugged me. As he stroked my mane, he whispered, "You look good, Blue."

A thought flashed across my mind. 'Does he…' I shook my head and hugged back. My Applebutt was with me, and that's what mattered. "Thanks, Applebutt. Today's show is just for you."

Braeburn grabbed his backstage pass from the pile of them that he'd put in his suitcase. I'd gotten him one for this show, too, just like I had for the whole rest of the season, and we each grabbed our saddlebags before we headed out. We met the rest of the 'Bolts downstairs, and even that early in the morning, a few families were getting ready for the day. Management passed out some breakfast packs, and I was able to snag an extra for Braeburn. After we'd slammed some food, a large, clean bus picked us up, and with a little whining to management, I got Braeburn aboard, too.

The bus was quiet. A few of the Wonderbolts whispered about their nights or how excited they were for the big show, but mostly, everypony tried to get some extra sleep. Braeburn, too. He just… leaned on me the whole way, and I kept him wrapped in a wing as the scenery rolled by.

My head pressed against the cold window as gravity pulled me down harder than usual. I took a deep breath, which fogged up the glass. 'What am I doing?' As groggy as I should have been on so little sleep, everything that was happening was frighteningly clear, and between remembering all the ways I'd failed Braeburn over the past three months or so, I thought, 'What kind of last date is this? I'm making him get up early, and we're not even spending the whole day together. I'm at work, for fuck's sake. He'll be exhausted by the end of the day, and he deserves better than this. I won't even be able to go through with it. I'm just going to botch it, and then where will we be?' My heart started to lift as I thought, 'I should wait for another weekend. I can't do this now.'

But Braeburn sighed. He'd fallen asleep against my shoulder, and as I started picturing him trapped back in Cloudsdale, I clenched my jaw and screwed my eyes shut. 'But I'm going to try, Braeburn. I promise I'll try.'

Braeburn stirred as the bus rocked to a stop at the performance site. We were in a small lot that was set behind a massive stage, easily forty meters across, and tech ponies were setting up the curtains and testing the giant lights, putting the finishing touches on an immaculate, elegant scene. The stage sat before a sprawling plain that rose slightly and then angled up more quickly, like a natural amphitheater. It was a fantastic space, and it looked like it could accommodate the thousands and thousands of ponies that would come out for the celebration. At the top of the hill were a few rows of bleachers, and security ponies patrolled the area. Small clouds dotted the sky, ready to seat as many pegasi as possible. Our warmup area sat behind the main stage and was barricaded off. It was just out of sight of most of the grassy area, and it left us plenty of room to prepare.

Braeburn groaned and looked up. "Hm? We're here already?"

"Yeah," I mumbled. I kissed him between the ears. "Cheer loud for me, Applebutt."

He smiled. "You're the only one I'll be watchin'."

I followed Braeburn off the bus. We hugged again, but Spitfire quickly called out for everypony to shake off their sleepiness and start stretching. I complied, and after another quick goodbye, I watched Braeburn, escorted by security and with a few other guest ponies, walk off to a special seating area for VIPs. As soon as he was out of eyesight, the thoughts came back. 'I'm being cruel. I'm manipulating him again. Even if he does leave me, he should be able to do it on his own terms. I'm forcing his hoof. He deserves the perfect day, and–' The stud poked at my heart. I ground my teeth and swore under my breath. 'And I'll keep it together for you, Applebutt, because I love you.'

Soon, Spitfire stood up and shouted, "Alright, foals, form up!" Everypony quickly fell into line, and Fire Streak and I stood crisply at either side of her. "Some of you look like you haven't gotten your beauty rest. Well, tough luck! This weekend is the most important set of shows for the season, and you will perform your best. Is that clear?"

The large team, made up of just about every pony that wasn't in the reserves, shouted back, "Ma'am, yes, ma'am!"

"Good! Now, last minute changes." A few Wonderbolts sucked in quick, tiny breaths, and Spitfire pointed a hoof at one of them. "Don't get shaken! Besides, I'm not cutting any of you. Captain Windsong will be replacing Fire Streak during today's performance. I imagine he'd like to tell you why."

I straightened up as they turned their attention to me. I stood tall, and I spoke evenly, letting my duties as captain distract me from everything else. "Wonderbolts, I don't need to tell you what a big show this is for you. The Summer Sun Celebration is a crown jewel for our organization. It's the defining show that stretches back just over a thousand years to the days of General Firefly and the first formation of the Wonderbolts." Eyes gleamed as my team remembered their shared history. I told myself, 'Keep 'em going,' and spoke even more firmly. "The shows have evolved, but just for today, our routine will hearken back to the stunts performed by our ancestors. It's a lot of pressure, but I have faith in you. You're becoming a part of history today, Wonderbolts, some of you for the first time, and you owe it to yourselves and to your predecessors to give it everything you've got. And…" My voice weakened just slightly.

Several of the 'Bolts turned their heads a few degrees.

I took another breath. "And this is a very important show for me, too. I want to ask you, not only as your captain, but as your friend, to give it your all. Can you do that for me?"

I could feel the electricity rising in them. No, they didn't know what was going on, but they could feel my sincerity. They straightened up with perfect military crispness and responded, "Sir, yes, sir!"

I smiled. "Thank you." I felt a weird heat on the side of my face. "And don't worry. Spitfire will freaking destroy me later for pulling this." The crowd laughed, but in seconds, they were back to being dead serious. I firmly strapped on my goggles and shouted, "Praemia Virtutis Honores! Let's do this!"

My Wonderbolts responded in kind, and I knew there would be no stopping us.

We lined up at the edge of the staging area as the twilight began to illuminate the world. Ponies had filled in the hillside, and soon enough, we saw her: pulled on a sky chariot, Princess Celestia descended from somewhere unseen, and the crowd went wild. We only really caught a glimpse of her before she was on the opposite side of the curtains, but it didn't take long for her to give her short speech. The light from her horn shone around the stage, and the stomps of approval grew and grew as she took flight, straight up into the air without even a beat of her wings. She raised herself high above the crowd, high enough to see from behind the stage, and behind her rose the sun. It was breathtaking and awe-inspiring, and everypony there was at rapt attention.

That's what Sightseer told me, anyway. I was watching Braeburn the whole time. He was a little yellow dot among a sea of ponies, but he stood out like he was the only one there. I saw him squint and smile at the sunlight, and deep in my heart, I knew what I was doing was right. I wanted to make him smile, no matter what it cost me.

Spitfire called out, "Wonderbolts! Positions!"

I snapped out of my reverie, and we all fell into our line. When she gave the signal, we went for it. 'This is for you, Brae. One last show.' My wings locked into place, and right on time, I took flight.

It was over in an instant.

By the time I'd realized it, we were making our pass over the crowd, lightning contrails crackling behind us. Even without moving my head, I spotted him, one hoof on his hat to keep it from blowing off. Seeing him smile, my mind had never been so clear, and my moves had never been so flawless. I hit every beat perfectly, from punching through the center of the aerial flower formation to leading the rise and fall of the Icaranian Sun Salutation. I flowed, and as much as it hurt to see a squad mate a quarter beat behind on some of the turns (not that anypony in the audience would notice), I knew Braeburn was watching me, and for him, I could deliver a perfect flight. With every twist of my wings, the yellow stud lightly poked my chest, right where Braeburn had put it, and as we spiraled down to the landing area after the last stunt, the crowd losing their minds, I realized that it had been perfect.

I landed in our staging area and turned around to see Spitfire staring at me, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. I flashed a grin. "Jealous?"

She paused and nodded slightly, not blinking. "…Yeah. I am."

I winked at her. "Captain for a reason." I turned to my team. "Good work, everypony. It–" I saw Braeburn galloping towards me, a security pony huffing as he chased after him. "Uh, it was great! Super proud of you! Meet at the hotel lobby tomorrownoonOKAYDISMISSED!" It was unprofessional, but screw it. I beat my wings and flew straight for him, smiling brighter than Celestia's sun.

And halfway there, it hit me. 'That was it.' My flight path faltered.

But Braeburn wouldn't let me stay down. He plucked me out of the air and twirled me around with his strong forelegs. "Blue, that was phenomenal!" He set me down and kissed me eight times. "Best I've ever seen!" He kissed me again. "You were spectacular!"

I hugged him tightly. "All for you, babe." My heart started feeling heavy, but I knew I couldn't slow down. Between kisses, I took off my flight suit and stuffed it into my saddlebag, and Braeburn helped me put my stud back into my ear. We quickly pulled on our favorite button-up shirts – black for me, pink for Braeburn, the ones we'd gotten in Las Pegasus – and I jerked my head towards the area with the cabs as Braeburn stuffed his hat inside his bag. "C'mon. Let's go, before that security guard catches his breath and arrests you."

We galloped towards the cabs, racing to find one before the crowds of ponies got bored with the other festivities. Braeburn laughed and asked, "Where we goin'?"

I knew what was coming, but until it arrived, I was going to give him the day of his life. We still had time to freefall.

I smiled at him. "Someplace quiet."

* * * * *

I take a short breath. "Did–"

Soarin' interrupts without looking at me. "Hey, just–" He shakes his head, his whole body deflated. "Sorry. I… just really want to get through this."

* * * * *

The Baltimare Museum of Industry was having a special exhibit that weekend. It focused on Baltimare's transformation from farming settlement to metropolis, with special attention on the leaders that helped shape it into the city it is today. We spent hours and hours looking at the artifacts and demonstrations. Braeburn flitted from exhibit to exhibit, talking rapidly about how some of it looked like it came right out of Appleloosa or how they could use one of the tools on the frontier, and his eyes sparkled.

His mouth moved as fast as he did, and for once, I just let him go off. "Holy moly! I didn't even know they made plows this shape. I wonder if it'd be better for the looser dirt out in the desert. Heh heh. I suppose I'd have to ask the colts out in the orchard and the fields what they would want, since I ain't been much for plowin' lately. Hope they ain't mad at me about it, but then again, I ain't the biggest earth pony, and it is how they earn their livin'. Aw, jeez, Pa'd think I'm goin' soft if he heard me talkin' about all this, but I suppose it's best for everypony to help in the way they can. Plus, he ain't one to judge, especially lately, heh heh." Braeburn looked at me with a broad grimace on his face, his tail wagging like a puppy's. "You ever pulled a plow before, Soarin'?"

I stifled a laugh. "I don't think I have, Br–"

He pointed to the yoke of the plow. "It's actually kinda satisfying, feelin' the earth move because you want it to. You gotta be careful, though, because you can hurt yourself real easy if you ain't hooked up right, and the yoke needs to be properly sized, but they can actually be pretty comfortable if they fit. Heh heh. Just ask Big Mac. Some ponies use some extra padding, but I've found that they tend to chafe instead of help, and…"

Braeburn kept going, and I didn't stop him. I let myself bask in his energy and soak it all in, and it was so, so worth it.

We took turns reading the plaques that hung below the portraits of famous ponies, most of them with ridiculous facial hair, and Braeburn helped me with a lot of the more obscure or bizarre words. Despite everything going through my head, I learned a ton.

When our hooves got tired, we sat in a small side room on our own, which had padding on a section of the floor. Braeburn rested his head on my shoulder while I kept a wing around him, like I had been all day. We stared at a mural that took up an entire wall. It stretched at least seven meters wide and three high, and it was a painting based off of a bunch of old photos. The left side showed the city in its settler days, sepia-toned and with slightly blurry lines. As our gaze moved left to right, the image seamlessly melted into an era of early growth with more buildings and better technology. A little further to the right, it did it again, over and over and all the way through to the present day, creating a visual timeline of the city's history. Important landmarks and ponies were referenced along the bottom with more portraits, creating a panorama view of the city and the ponies that had built it up over time.

I squeezed Braeburn with a wing. "This is gonna be Appleloosa someday."

"You think so?" It was almost sarcastic, and I could hear the confidence in his voice. "Yeah. Definitely."

"Totally." I kissed him near the bottom of his ear. "You're going to be more famous than me."

"Heh heh," he snickered. "Hardly. There ain't much of a market for historical figure lunchboxes."

"Maybe not, but you're doing something important. Lasting. I'm just here to make an organization look good. I'm not improving anypony's life or anything."

"One pony's, at least." He looked up at me and, after a pause, rested on my shoulder again. He sighed. "And it's not like I've done much for Appleloosa lately. I'm not there."

For a moment, I realized we were falling again.

A set of hooves clopped against the floor behind us, but it sounded like whoever they belonged to just peeked into the room and left. Soon enough we were sitting in the utter silence again.

Braeburn set his hoof next to mine, and he scooted closer so that his flanks and his side were pressed as close to mine as they would go. "I keep… askin' myself if…"

My eyes widened, and I wanted to puke as a wave of nausea washed over me and stole my breath away. I felt lightheaded, and my wing loosened a little. 'Is this it? Don't pull up. Don't go back. Let it happen.' Weakly, I asked, "What is it, Applebutt?"

Braeburn shook his head against my shoulder. "Never mind."

Relief washed over me, but I refused to embrace it. I didn't want to pretend anymore. "It's… okay. You can tell me."

Braeburn gave a wooden laugh. "Haha. Nah. Just thinkin'. I don't really want to talk about it right now. I don't wanna think about it, either."

I felt like I was tumbling through the sky, but I latched onto the first thought that felt right. "I'm here whenever you're ready."

Braeburn hugged my leg. "You're sweet, Blue. There's just a lot I don't know."

I held myself together, and I held Braeburn closer. "You'll figure it out, Braeburn, and… someday, that'll be you in the mural." I swallowed hard and pictured Braeburn being a celebrated hero, getting his own section in the history books, and I smiled. "I can't wait to see it."

Braeburn was quiet.

I knocked my nose against his. "Better start growing your beard now."

Braeburn chuckled loudly, and the tension drained from both our bodies. He leaned into me hard. "Hell no. My coltish looks are how I get anythin' done. The mares in town think I'm adorable, and the stallions ain't threatened by me."

I snickered. "See? You know how this game's played. It's just a matter of time before you've got a plaque of your own."

Without hesitating, he said, "I want your name on my plaque, too, Soarin'. You've done so much for me, and I want everypony to know it."

I looked down at him, but he just stared at the mural some more, so I rested my head on his. We spent the next twenty minutes gently holding onto each other, watching the past bloom into the present as the future rushed towards us. It was all happening too fast.

We wandered around the museum for a couple more hours, and I rented this weird, egg-shaped napping pod for us to take a quick rest in. We managed to squeeze both of us into one, and by some miracle, we caught a few z's, enough to keep us from crashing for the rest of the day. The fact that we had to hug each other to fit helped, too.

We grabbed a late lunch after that in the food court, but we had to eat pretty quickly once a few other ponies started recognizing us. After I gave out a couple headshots, they were pretty cool, but we didn't want to press our luck. As we trotted out of the museum, Braeburn said, "See? If you were a historical celebrity, we wouldn't have to worry about all of this."

The stroll through downtown Baltimare didn't last too long. The sidewalks and shops were crowded and dirty, and it was hard to hear each other over all the noise. Braeburn didn't like the city air, and as impressive as he said the buildings were, I could hear the hollowness of his compliments. I smirked and said, "You'll think differently when it's Appleloosa."

Braeburn blushed a little. "We'll see. It'll be a shame to lose the small-town charms, though."

I stepped closer to him as we dodged a couple that rushed by, and I walked close enough that our flanks bumped into each other. "Eh, as long as you're mayor, it'll be the most charming place in Equestria." He rolled his eyes, and I asked, "You up for some shopping?"

Braeburn tilted his head back. "You've got that look in your eye." He snuggled me. "So I can't wait to see what it is."

I wanted to give him one more memento, so we stopped by a shop I'd heard about from Sightseer: a place that makes custom quill pens out of feathers, and… yeah. I didn't make Braeburn yank one out, but we used one of mine, and I had it set in a gold handle with a nice ink set and a blue, velvet-lined case. The whole process only took a few minutes.

As we sat in the small, classy shop, Braeburn twisted the quill in his hooves, even running it along his face. He looked up at me. "This is really somethin' special, Big Blue. I'll think of you whenever I write."

My eyes glazed over, and I imagined Braeburn back at his desk outside Silverstar's office in Appleloosa. I pictured him writing his report about Appleloosa using a piece of me, and I smiled. "I hope you will."

We bounced around a few more stores, but Braeburn said he didn't want to buy anything else. I figured he didn't like shopping that much, but it gave us more time together. We stopped for coffee and just talked like we had back when we'd first met, going on about books and growing up and places we visited.

At some point, we were snuggled up on the grass in a small green square that might have technically been a park. Ponies milled around and rushed home or to their evening appointments, but the two of us just lay there, cuddling and enjoying each other's warmth.

Braeburn drained the last of his coffee. He looked into the empty cup for a moment, then set it down, lifted his eyes to me, and smiled. With a low, even tone, he said, "This has been a great day, Soarin'. Just perfect." He pressed his forehead against my cheek and dragged his face across mine, finishing with a kiss on the side of my face. "I love you."

"I love you, too, Braeburn." I looked up at a clock, and I frowned. It was already four-thirty. 'Where did it all go?' I wondered, brushing my tail against Braeburn's. 'It's… already so late.'

"What's on your mind, Blue?" Braeburn nudged me under my chin with his nose.

I sighed. "I don't want this day to end." I looked back down at my coltfriend.

Braeburn frowned. "I don't want it to, either." He moved a hoof on top of mine. "We can just stay here the rest of the day if you like. We don't need to rush."

"Heh. Actually, we kind of do. Sorry we're not cooking something together–" You know, that might've been the one time I was able to slip a casual lie past him. "–but I couldn't find a free kitchen, and if we're late for dinner, they'll cancel our reservation."

"On you?" he asked, cocking his head. "Do they know who you are?"

"Oh yeah, and I was barely able to get a seat as it is." I held him close. "I burned a lot of favors to get in, but they're too fancy to wait for us, especially during a holiday." Keeping my hoof on him, I stood up. "We should get going."

Braeburn stood up, too, and as we hailed a cab, he asked, "Soarin', how fancy is this place?"

I just smiled back at him.

Twenty minutes later, we were stepping out of an elevator onto the top floor of one of the highest skyscrapers in Baltimare. The ornately carved set of wooden double doors opened in front of us, and the twisted, inquisitive look on Braeburn's face was priceless. "The hell?"

'Hoof' is the most esteemed restaurant in Baltimare, and we walked in to see it packed with ponies. They're usually booked a month ahead of time, and if you've ever eaten there, you understand why. There's no menu: you show up, get seated, and eat and drink whatever the chefs have prepared for the evening, but you can make special requests if you, like, can't have cheese or something. They pride themselves on the "experience." This isn't some pretender, though. They earn their reputation with the most delicate, most meticulously crafted dishes on the coast, maybe in all of Equestria.

"Soarin'… why are there eight rusty bicycles hanging from the ceiling suspended by headless stuffed animals and rainbow-colored garlic?"

Iiiiit's also kind of a hipster joint.

Braeburn rubbed his chin. "And I'm pretty sure at least some of those handle bars are sex toys."

The host – a giant, curly beard with a scrawny blue pony attached to the back of it – greeted us at a wrought-iron-and-glass podium. "Misters Windsong and Apple! Lovely to see you. My name is Dewdrop, and I'll be your liaison this evening. Your table is ready, so brace yourselves for the experience of a lifetime. Follow me, please." He bowed and walked into the restaurant. Braeburn snickered, and then he jerked his head towards Dewdrop and rolled his eyes. I shrugged and rolled my eyes back, and we followed our host.

Dewdrop guided us deep into the dimly-lit restaurant, and I took a deep whiff of the rich, decadent smells that permeated the air. Each area had its own theme: one of the corners of the wide, multilevel space was made entirely of locally-produced artisanal carpentry, the upper floor was made out of reclaimed carnival equipment (complete with a full-sized carousel buffet), and the bar area had an ultra-sleek industrial theme, like somepony had gone nuts making a factory look clean. All along the windows were different booths with various beach themes, and our table was hidden behind a giant clamshell made out of warped plywood and painted an opalescent white.

As we walked around the edge of the clamshell, Braeburn gasped. "Oh, wow!" We had a surprisingly private booth with a gorgeous view. We could see all the way across the city, from the hill where the Wonderbolts had performed that morning to the vast cityscape to the roiling ocean. The window ran from the floor to the ceiling and was made of a single giant pane of glass that covered our field of view, and it really felt like we were sitting on a cloud with nothing between us and the world. The walls of the booth blocked out most of the noise from the restaurant and the view we had of the other tables. We sat down on a curved pink bench that surrounded an iridescent, white, circular table, and Braeburn's mouth stayed agape, his eyes wide and head shaking. "This is… incredible!" I threw a foreleg around Braeburn and held him close, basking in the joy that radiated off of him.

Another pony appeared, an earth pony with a solid build and a striped, old-fashioned apron. He was pushing a cart that had some drinks and two large, wooden boxes. The boxes had been delicately tied with ribbons that matched our fur colors. Yes, this new guy had a preposterous beard, too. "Good evening, gentlecolts. I'm Ochre Twilight, and I'll be serving you this evening. Have we had the pleasure of serving you before?"

Braeburn perked up. "Huh? Where'd Dewdrop go?"

I snickered. "They're pretty seamless here. They even have you pay first so you don't have to worry about leaving a tip or anything at the end." I turned to Ochre and jerked my head at Braeburn, who was still sneaking looks at the view. "I've been here, but he hasn't. Give him the shtick."

"Certainly," Ochre said as he set place settings and empty glasses on our table. He poured an orange liquid into our glasses. "Mister Windsong is correct: we try to anticipate your every need here at Hoof. Speaking of which, please enjoy these drinks, compliments of the chef: a peach-papaya nectar with cilantro-infused soda water, perfect for relaxing after a hard day, whether it was spent performing aerial stunts or harvesting apples." He winked at me. "And I must say, our head chef was very impressed with the show this morning, Mister Windsong."

Braeburn laughed. "Oh, you're good. Thank you." He reached for his glass but then stopped and grimaced. "Uh, are these…?"

Ochre smiled. "Mister Windsong requested virgins this evening, and while my mother would like to think I'm a chaste little colt, I'm afraid alcohol-free drinks are the best we could do." Braeburn and I laughed, and Braeburn kissed me on the cheek. Ochre continued. "We'll bring you more throughout the evening – that is, drinks that pair well with our pre-selected dishes – so you can just relax and enjoy the experience. Tonight's theme is 'A New Dawn Together.' Of course, if you want anything at all, please don't hesitate to ask us. Is there anything we can get you right away?" We shook our heads. "Let's get on with the show, then. Mister Windsong tells us tonight is special, so why not start with dessert?" He grabbed the wooden boxes and gently set them on opposite sides of the table – the one with the blue ribbon in front of me, yellow in front of Braeburn. Between them, he placed a large wooden screen that had been hoof-painted with tropical fish. "Of course, since we'll be busy with your other courses, we'd love to have your help putting it together."

Braeburn shot me a smile and a glare. I winked back at him.

We each pulled the ribbon on our boxes, and they unfolded seemingly magically to reveal several compartments full of edible craft supplies: squares of dough, different types of filling, sprinkles, glitter, and a paintbrush with several colors of glaze. Ochre explained that we'd be making each other's desserts, a pastry of our own design just for our partner, and that each of the materials was edible. We scooted across from each other and started right away, and I knew exactly what I wanted to build him.

Braeburn shook his head, and I could only really see his bright eyes above the screen. "And here you were apologizin' for not cookin' together."

I smirked. "You saying you don't like the surprise?"

"You kiddin'? I'm just worried you'll finish first!" He furiously grabbed more dough squares.

Braeburn and I both giggled as we worked on our treats. I tried to peek over the screen, but Braeburn caught me and swatted at me gently. A couple minutes later, Braeburn snickered and said, "Aw, hell!" He laughed into his hoof as he tried to cover up the fact that he was blushing.

I smiled. "Whaaaat?"

"I just… Aw, you'll see." He shook his head and mumbled, "Geez, Braeburn. Get your mind outta the gutter…"

I shrugged and went back to my own project. I'd made a lumpy, apple-filled ball out of two of the pastry squares, which I'd painted with the green glaze. I had to use a couple candy dowels, but I was able to make an apple-filled cylinder, which I painted brown. I stuck the green ball on top of it and added a few well-placed red sprinkles, and I raised a hoof and shouted, "Done!" It wasn't even remotely artistic, but you could at least tell what it was supposed to be.

"Excellent work, Mister Windsong," Ochre said as he appeared again and delicately wrapped up my pastry in the wooden box. "I'm sure he'll love it." He took a glance at Braeburn, who had just finished his, too. "Oh, that looks exquisite, Mister Apple. Allow me to deliver these to the bakery, and I'll bring them back out at the end of the meal. I'll be right back with your first course." He carefully wrapped up Braeburn's as well and took away the screen.

As Ochre wheeled away the cart with the desserts and all the supplies, Braeburn leaned on the table and laughed. "Heh heh. Never been to a restaurant that made me cook before." He reached across to me and grabbed my hoof. "I can't wait to see it."

I brought his hoof to my lips and kissed it. "Same here, Braeburn. I know you'll love it."

Braeburn smiled, and we looked into each other's eyes. Soft, serene music played in the background, and the clamshell we sat in muffled the noise of the nearby conversations. For the moment, it was just Braeburn and me again, looking at each other as our smiles grew, our hooves giving us a physical connection to mirror the one in our hearts.

Ochre appeared again, which startled Braeburn. "Gah!" He quickly withdrew his hoof and slid closer to me. Our flanks touched again.

Ochre put two oversized plates on our table. "Your first bite is a salad course: organic cucumber with shaved radish and chia seeds in our house-made vinaigrette. Enjoy!" He darted away.

Braeburn furrowed his eyes down at his plate. "They, uh… ain't big on portions, are they?" He wasn't wrong: each salad was literally two cucumber slices with a sliver of radish and seeds on a giant plate that had been artfully drizzled with dressing.

I snickered. "Don't worry. You won't go hungry."

With a raised eyebrow, he asked "Do the courses get bigger?" and poked a cucumber with his hoof.

I smiled. "No, but there are thirty of them."

Braeburn's eyes widened, and I'm happy to say that he wasn't disappointed. Every dish was prepared masterfully, from the wildflower dough balls coated in frozen orange cells to the fresh pasta in alfalfa and citrus pesto. Braeburn savored every bite. I loved watching him stretch each taste out as long as he could as his brain spun with ideas and the desire to make each dish himself. The whole dinner took hours, and between our bites, I never stopped looking at him, how he beamed whenever he tried something brand new and how he rolled his tongue around his mouth, trying to characterize what he was tasting. My heart glowed the entire time, and seeing him happy made all the rest of my fears melt away.

And so, time moved on, and we kept falling.

The second-to-last dish came and went, and Braeburn sighed as he flicked his tail against mine. "This is amazin', Blue. Thank you. I couldn't have picked a nicer place. Hell, I didn't even recognize a lot of those ingredients."

I wrapped a foreleg around him and stroked his shoulder. "You're welcome, Applebutt. I'm just glad you're happy. Did you get full?"

"Mm-hm! Mighty surprised, too. I wouldn't have thought it was really that much, but it adds up."

"Think you'll have room for dessert?"

Braeburn smiled ear to ear. "Aw, I can't wait!" But then, his smile faded.

I cocked my head to the side. "What's wrong?"

He waved a hoof. "Nothin'. Just don't want the night to end."

'Me neither,' I thought, catching a glimpse of the clock on the wall. 'But it has to.'

Before I could get too lost in my thoughts, Ochre showed up one more time. "We've come to the final dish, gentlecolts, and I must say, our chef was jealous of your creations." He set the boxes in front of us. They were tied up just like before, but now I had the box with the yellow ribbon, and Braeburn had the box with the blue.

I snapped to attention. "You first!"

Braeburn was half a beat late. "You fi– Dammit! Haha!" He snuggled up to me, and Ochre arranged the boxes so that he could open his more easily. "Let's see…" He pulled the ribbon painfully slowly, and as it folded open, he gasped and put a hoof to his heart. "Aw, Soarin'." Braeburn looked up at me. "You made me an apple tree!"

I bumped his shoulder with my nose. "Told you I'd get you one."

Braeburn paused, and he sucked in a few quick, deep breaths. He threw his hooves around me. "Thank you," he… sobbed. His cheek brushed mine. It was wet. "You're beautiful."

My heart hitched up to my throat, and I hugged him back. "You, too, babe."

Braeburn pulled back. "No use cryin' yet." He wiped his eyes with a fetlock. "Open yours."

"Okay," I said, my wings twitching. I pulled the ribbon slowly, eyeing Braeburn. When the box finally unfolded, my eyes opened wide. It was a stuffed pastry shaped like our cutie marks: his overlaid on mine and masterfully painted with the shiny glaze. The red apple was nestled between the curves of the blue wave, with the lightning bolt through the middle. My eyes watered slightly, and I smiled. "It's perfect, Braeburn."

We kissed deeply, and Ochre snapped a photo of us that he promised to mail me (part of their "anticipating every need" policy).

I nuzzled Braeburn, but when I looked at the pastry again, I had to stifle a laugh. "So, uh, Applebutt…."

Braeburn laughed and groaned. "Yes, Soarin'?" He knew what was coming.

I squeezed him. "Was it supposed to look so suggestive? 'Cuuuuuz it kinds looks like the bottom half of a blue pony lightning-fucking that apple's ass."

Braeburn was already laughing and hiding his face in my neck. "Ah, I know! I know! I didn't notice until I was already halfway done." He looked up at me. "I guess the meanings are a bit layered."

Ochre excused himself, telling us we were free to leave whenever we were ready. We thanked him, and then we laughed and hugged some more. When we finally felt up to it, we fed each other our desserts, each of us taking tiny bites. Braeburn even sucked on my hoof a little to get the filling off. After relaxing and watching the sun begin to set with no words between us, we stood up and left, pressing our bodies against each other on the way out.

The long walk back from downtown was good for us. It helped us digest what had actually been a very large meal. We had another conversation about nothing, though Braeburn did eventually comment, "This has been an amazing day, Blue. We headin' to the concert now?"

I playfully batted him with my wing. "Hey! I didn't guess stuff on your date."

His nose scrunched. "Sorry, couldn't help it."

We took a cab back to the outskirts of the city and the large concert area. The whole ride, Braeburn was… quiet. He was still huddled up to me, but he kept looking out the window and frowning, and our conversation dropped off. Every minute or so, he'd hug me tightly or close his eyes and rest his face against mine, and without any other way to comfort him, I hugged him back. I needed him to know that I was still there for him.

Music was playing as we stepped out of the cab, just like it had been all day, even though the headliners hadn't started yet. I'd gotten us a private cloud to sit in. The organizers had crafted several flat clouds with chest-high walls, and there was a little banner we could flip over the side when we wanted to get down. Braeburn and I crawled onto our cloud, but Braeburn was looking down, his ears flat against his head. A technician moved us to our spot, which was close enough to see but not enough to lose our hearing, and I asked him, "You okay?"

Braeburn didn't say anything. Instead, he looked up at the band, a deep frown on his face, and even though we were already lying next to each other, he tried to move closer, until our heads were propping each other up. We sat and listened to the sad banjo of a bluegrass group, cuddling, as Celestia began lowering the sun from somewhere we couldn't see.

The light faded, and Braeburn and I remained close together. I wanted to enjoy the moment. I wanted to make sure Braeburn was still having the time of his life. I wanted to hang onto our freefall for a little longer.

But… Braeburn was breathing heavily. He blinked quickly, over and over again. I kept my wing around him tight, but soon, he shuddered, and as gently as I could, I asked, "What's wrong, Braeburn?"

He was silent for a moment, and then he looked away. "I…"

"You can tell me anything."

Braeburn heaved a large breath, but before he could say anything, trumpets blared suddenly as members of the Royal Guard filled the main stage. Everypony but us clopped their hooves as Celestia entered, gave a short speech, and lowered the sun its last few degrees. She thanked everypony for coming and made her grand exit, and within seconds, technicians were staging for Sapphire Shores' show.

But I wasn't paying attention to that. I'd put a foreleg around Braeburn along with my wing, and he shook more and more as time went on. He started sobbing, and I frowned. "Braeburn, c'mon. What's wrong?" With my free wing, I brushed the underside of his chin, gently lifting it. Quietly, I said, "Please don't hide from me. Not tonight."

Braeburn looked up at me, his eyes watering and his voice shaky. "I know what this is, Soarin'."

I froze in place. For a moment, I felt all my strength leave me, and my grip loosened. 'He knows.' That thought spun in my mind over and over and over again, and it made it all real. I felt us falling again, and the ground was so, so close. "Wha…" I wanted to deny it and comfort him and tell him he didn't need to worry, but… it was happening again. It was another one of those rare moments where everything is finally clear, and all I could do was pull him in for a close hug. I sighed. "I'm… not very subtle, am I?"

"Heh." Braeburn rubbed his head against my neck, and his soft mane tickled me. "Not really, no. I… figured it out on Thursday. You were actin' weird, and I kept thinkin' about it all day, and… and I realized that you wanted to make me feel better in case I had to…" He was huffing and sobbing. "Y–… You want me to–" He choked on his words and took a shuddering breath.

There was a long pause. The crowd murmured below us.

As weak as I felt, my love for Braeburn sustained me. I drew strength from it, enough strength to hold him close and say, "I want tonight to be perfect for you, Braeburn. We can be sad later."

From the stage, we heard a loud, sultry voice boom, "Helloooo, Baltimare!" The crowd cheered. Lights flashed on, and a pulsing beat dropped as Sapphire Shores appeared in a shower of sparks onstage.

Braeburn hugged me again. "Then, I-I'll be damned if I let you down."

I grit my teeth and forced my sadness down, focusing on the one thing that mattered. "I love you, Braeburn."

"I love you, too, Soarin'." With a sad smile, he stood up and offered his hoof.

I looked at it, then up to him, that smiling face with those sad, tired eyes. For all the dark thoughts that could have overtaken me, when I looked at him, only one thing came to mind. 'Tonight, I get to dance with Braeburn. I get to spend time with the pony I love.' I took his hoof and stood up, and the excitement buzzed through me, from the tips of my wings to the bottom of my hooves, just like it had when we'd first met.

We danced together in our little secluded nightclub. The bright, colorful lights shot out from the stage and pierced our cloud, giving it a pulsing glow as the loud, rhythmic, loud music played.

And we didn't hold back. Braeburn bucked and danced around, melding his hometown style with some moves he must have picked up at our party with the 'Bolts. I did, too, and even in the cooling night, we sweated and panted and lost ourselves to the music, bumping up on each other as much as we could and kissing every chance we got.

We danced through most of Sapphire's set, which was only six songs. By the middle of the last one, Braeburn was laughing and hanging onto me and giggling as I nibbled on his ear. "Soarin'! Haha! Soarin'!"

"Whaaaaat?" I nibbled again, earning a shudder from him, but he overwhelmed me and pinned me on my back on the cloud. "Hey!" We laughed some more.

Once we'd calmed down, Braeburn looked into my eyes and stroked my mane. Sapphire was belting out one of her biggest hits, but even that was drowned out by the voice of the stallion I love. "You're a dream, Soarin'."

I smiled and kissed his hoof. "You having a good night?"

His smile widened. "The best of my life."

My heart welled with happiness. With a free hoof, I traced his chest. "I'm glad, Braeburn. That's what I wanted. I want it to be perfect for you. If there's anything else you want, I'll make it happen."

He coyly batted his eyes at me. "Anything?"

He was being goofy. He was having fun. He wasn't worried about the next day, and that made all the difference. "Name it."

Slowly, he lowered his head to the side of my face and nuzzled me. For a moment, he lay there, relaxing in my embrace, and I could feel his chest rise and fall. Finally, gently, he drew a calm breath and whispered into my ear, "I wanna make love with you, Soarin' Windsong."

Art by Lucky Fly

My heart fluttered, and I kissed his neck. I whispered back, "There's nopony I'd rather do it with, Braeburn Apple."

Without standing, we flipped the banner on the side of our cloud. A tech came and pulled us to the loading area just as Coloratura was starting a set with a beautiful piano piece, and as we left, I gave our seats to some lucky fans. We got in one of the cabs, and since we'd left the concert so early, it was a quick trip back to the hotel.

* * * * *

The sun's dying light paints our cloud a fading gold. It gets darker by the moment, and I stare at Soarin'.

His eyes are unfocused, and a few tears streak down his cheeks, tracing the bags under his eyes and falling silently onto the cloud below. Slowly, deliberately, he takes Braeburn's hat from his head. He sits back on the bench, stares at the hat, and strokes it with one hoof. He closes his eyes and, with a shaky smile on his face, draws a breath.

* * * * *

The door of our hotel room closed with a heavy, echoing click. It had so much finality behind it that I felt queasy, and it made me realize how much of my future was in this tiny, intimate hotel room. I locked the door and turned around, and Braeburn was closing the shades, shutting out the city and leaving us with a dim gem lamp that bathed the room in a soft, buttery yellow light. My gaze kept trying to fall to the floor, but I held my eyes up to his. "Braeburn, we can… just cuddle if you want."

He smiled sadly. "I told you. I want this, Big Blue. Don't you?"

I didn't need to think. "More than anything."

With slow steps, he walked up to me. "Me, too." He closed his eyes and opened his mouth as he leaned in.

And I felt the fire again, both familiar and new all at once. A small voice told me to hold back and keep from letting this moment slip into a lusty haze, but I couldn't resist. I didn't want to resist. I touched my lips to Braeburn's, softly at first, but soon, I had a hoof around his neck, pulling him in closely as I voraciously sucked on his mouth. My wings unfurled and explored his body, from his sides to his shoulders to his face. I pressed in until our chests touched through our clothes, and I kissed the back of his neck while he nibbled on my shoulder. His heart was beating as fast as mine, and our fur bristled with each groan and suckling noise.

"Oh, Soarin'…" he moaned.

The room grew warmer, and Braeburn shuddered as my wing softly caressed his belly. Breathing heavily, Braeburn sat down and furiously unbuttoned my shirt. I snuck kisses on the top of his head, and he stood up to kiss me again. I worked his rough tongue with mine while I frantically wiggled out of my shirt, but it didn't bother either of us. We were already breathing so hard and feeling the heat rise all around us. We kept kissing, barely apart from each other long enough to breathe. At the back of my mind, my primal lust flared up, and I had to see all of him. I undressed him as quickly as I could, even though my hooves were shaking and I was already getting dizzy with excitement. I didn't even get the last button off before I mashed my face into his muscular chest, still sweaty from the dancing. The smell was intoxicating. I breathed in as much as I could. Braeburn pressed me closer to him, and I could feel his heartbeat on my cheek.

My mouth to his muscle, I groaned, "Oh, dammit, Braeburn." I dragged my tongue across his chest, earning another shudder and filling my mouth with that delicious, sweaty taste of his skin.

"Mm…" With a shaky hoof, Braeburn undid his last button and slipped out of his shirt, and I ran my face and my tongue along his shoulder and his side, pressing as much of my body into him as I could. He was so solid. I knew I wouldn't knock him over, and that made me want to give my body over to him all the more. I rested my chin on his back, between his flanks, and he playfully whipped his tail across my neck. That sent me reeling, and I reached around to hug his middle. I nipped lightly at his lower back, and my head flooded with a desire to give in and bite harder and let him bite me.

I could feel Braeburn kissing me on that same spot, right in the center of my back, and he brushed himself against my wing. As I nibbled on him, he grunted and gasped, and he gently teased me with his hoof. His soft touch made me quiver, and my legs nearly gave out as we continued to play with each other, making as much contact as we could.

We circled around each other, different parts of our bodies coming into contact. I was dizzy, and it was like exploring new territory all over again. It felt fresh. New. Pure. There wasn't any tomorrow. There was only that moment, and there was only us.

"Aw, dammit, Soarin'," Braeburn sighed, running his body against mine. His face brushed mine, and my head swam. "I want you, Soarin'. I need you."

I suckled his neck. "I'm all yours, Brae." I was already panting.

Braeburn pushed me with his whole body, guiding me to the bed. We stumbled a few times, and I lay down on my back with my wings spread wide, just how I knew he liked it. He half-moaned, half-chuckled when he saw them. "Still ain't fair."

The mattress squeaked once as he crawled onto me. We didn't have time for subtlety. He was on top of me in seconds, because he wanted me. I was wanted, and I wanted him, and we were going to give ourselves completely to each other.

Braeburn wrapped all of his limbs around me tightly, and we kissed again, moaning into each other's mouths. I held him close to me and wrapped us up in my wings, and we held on tight as love flowed freely between us without words. For that night, he was still my Applebutt, and his body was as welcoming and familiar as my wings.

We panted together, huffing and alternating between kissing and catching our breath. I couldn't even keep track of everything I was feeling, but every point of contact seemed like a gateway to the stars, and my whole body crackled with pent-up desire. Fervently, I grabbed him and rolled us both to the side, putting my body on top of his. I broke our kiss and looked down.

And I stopped. He was there, looking up at me. Braeburn. My coltfriend. The stallion I love, the one who'd taken me so far and taught me so much. My mouth hung open, and I thought, 'I can't do this. This can't end. I love him. I'll always love him.'

But Braeburn didn't let me down. He cocked his head to the side. His lips were parted in a slight smile, and his eyes had the soft look that only a lover can give. Gently, he reached a hoof up to stroke my face, and he whispered, "Don't you stop now, Big Blue."

I closed my eyes and just felt him. His hoof on my face… I opened my eyes and whispered back, "Never."

I dove back down onto him, and the fire roared back to life. We melted together one more time, the line between us blending into a sweaty mix of blue and yellow.

For one last night, we were together, our bodies as vulnerable and exposed and close to each other as we could ever hope to be, and I wanted to feel it all. I… I wanted to be it all. Somewhere deep in my mind, I… knew what was h-happening, and I needed to savor it, to make it a part of me so that I could never really lose him. The smell of sweat and fur and apples and feathers, the feeling of his hard muscles and soft mane, the sound of his hushed moans. I wanted to keep it, to hold onto it forever. The taste of his mouth and his skin, his gorgeous face and sparkling eyes, and more than anything, the love that we felt for each other in an undying loop. Every piece of us, every sensation that made me fall even more deeply, madly, impossibly in love with him, everything that he had taught me and helped me understand was searing itself onto my soul forever.

We wanted it to last, but all too soon, my wings unfurled, wild and untamed, and I knocked the gem lamp from the nightstand. And as it hit the ground with a pop, my world burst into color, every hue you could imagine, filling every one of my senses with a wondrous flash of light. The sounds, the smells, the feeling of every tiny bit of him all melded into a dazzling, consuming fire, full of wonder and passion and our souls flowing freely between our two bodies, like we were meeting for the first time all over again. We held onto each other with our legs and our lips, grasping at that moment and that light and trying to live in that flare of brilliant color forever.

But all too quickly, the light began to fade, and inevitably, the moment passed.

Our lips parted, and we gasped for breath, pressing our faces against each other in the cool, deep darkness. We held on, our legs exhausted, as our breathing faded from frantic gasps to loud panting to deep, sucking breaths in each other's ears. Our grips loosened just slightly, and we came crashing down back into the reality of what had been and what was about to be.

Neither of us moved, and it was quiet.

My thoughts still weren't coherent. All I knew was that I didn't want to let go. I couldn't. And from the way he was still holding me, Braeburn couldn't, either.

Another moment passed without our consent.

I arched my back to get up, but Braeburn flinched and squeezed me tighter. He still couldn't let go, and for another heartbeat, we felt closer than we'd ever dreamed possible.

We… stayed there, entangled in the quiet for several minutes more.

Utterly silent.

And Braeburn finally… H-he…

…

Braeburn f-finally whispered, "I can't do it, Soarin'."

And my heart collapsed. I knew he could. I knew he had to, for both of us, but I couldn't force him. My throat tightened, and I hugged him. No words felt like they could ever possibly be enough.

Braeburn broke the silence again. "Please don't be mad. Please just… please just hold me tonight. I need you, Soarin'. I still need you."

Tears welled up in my eyes, but I blinked them away. I tried to whisper, "Okay," but it caught in my throat. Instead, I slowly rolled off of him, the creak of the bed echoing in the silence, and I positioned myself behind him. We spooned, facing away from the window. A tiny sliver of light peeked in through the curtains.

My teeth clenched, and my mind raged. 'Why not? Why fucking not? I love you, Braeburn! Don't do this! I love you too much. You have to leave me. You have to leave me!' My skull felt like it had crashed into the tree all over again, but I wouldn't get mad. I wouldn't hurt Braeburn again.

I wanted to say something. Anything. But I kept imagining Braeburn living back at our condo in Cloudsdale. I kept seeing him miserable, wasting away, but there we were. I couldn't make him leave. I felt so crushed, so small and inadequate. It felt like Mom leaving and Dad dying and the 'Bolts firing me all at once, all because Braeburn wanted to stay. The one thing I thought I'd wanted for so long was burning me to nothing from the inside out.

We lay there for several minutes until Braeburn weakly said, "I love you, Big Blue."

And even if no other words would come to me, I knew he had to hear these: "I love you, too, Applebutt. I always will."

Braeburn didn't respond. Instead, he reached up to my hoof and pulled me closer, like a blanket, and I held him.

I… don't know if it was the stress or the long day or the exertion – or maybe his brain just couldn't take any more – but Braeburn fell asleep in my forelegs within minutes. But it wasn't a good sleep. He fidgeted, and even in the dark, with the little light that crept in around the curtains, I could see his eyes twitch beneath his eyelids, and his breaths were quick and shallow.

Fifteen minutes. An hour. Two. His sleep was so disturbed. He was in so much pain.

And even as we fell together that last distance, the ground approaching rapidly, far away from the highs we'd known together, the only feeling inside me was, 'Please don't feel sad, Braeburn. I want you to be happy.' Gently, I stretched a wing out and traced the features of his face, making out every detail I could.

My throat felt tight. My eyes burned. And yet, words came to me, bubbling up from my heart, and I couldn't keep them in.

"It's okay, Braeburn," I whispered. "You can say it. I promise I won't be mad. I want you to be happy, even if it means we can't be together." I squeezed lightly. "That's what's important to me. It means more than everything else in the world. It's okay."

As I spoke, Braeburn's breathing slowed, and his eyes settled down. He… h-he felt calm.

Tears quietly fell from my face and rapped against my pillow. "I'll always love you, Braeburn, and I promise I'll be fine." For the first time in my life, I believed it, but then, I wasn't concerned about myself. "You don't need to worry. It's okay to leave me. It's okay."

He relaxed in my embrace, and even though I never wanted to close my eyes, never wanted the night to end, seeing the love of my life finally be at peace brought me crashing down. My wing retracted, and sleep took me as I whispered, "It's okay to leave. I love you. It's okay. It's okay."

…

…

I…

I… felt him get up that morning. I felt him slide away, but I didn't reach for him. Instead, I kept my eyes closed and pleaded with time. 'Not yet. Don't let me wake up yet. Don't make him have to say it yet.'

And for once, the world gave me a break, and I fell back asleep.

…

The… curtains were open when I woke up, and the gem lamp had been placed back on the bedside nightstand. The first hint of sunrise warmed the back of my neck. My forelegs were empty, and the bed next to me was cold.

No thoughts. Just feelings, and even then, it was just one.

I rubbed my eyes and sat up, taking in a long breath that I let out slowly. Apple and sweat and Wonderbolt. When I finally looked up towards the window, I saw a golden earth pony staring back at me, wearing his favorite hat and vest and sitting with a packed suitcase next to him. The sun shone across his face, and his eyes sparkled. He was beautiful.

But he wore a forced, broken smile, and his eyes were wet, and his cheeks were streaked with tears. Slowly, his mouth opened, and he took a shallow breath to push out quiet words.

"I love you, Soarin'."

Prologue

"No! No no no no no!" I dive, scratching desperately at the air. The quill's red feather brushes tenderly on my hoof, teasing me as a cold gust pushes it just out of my reach. As I stretch out my foreleg, my quill gives in to gravity, hitting the soft cloud at the same time I do. It sticks straight up in lewd defiance as it begins sinking below the cottony surface. "Oh, c'mon!" The last red fiber disappears, and I wonder if somepony far below is about to get a jab to the head.

I grumble, burying my face in the cool, pillowy fluff beneath me. My frustration is suddenly winning out over my fear of falling half a mile to my death. "Damn it." I run a tan hoof through my spikey, brown-gold mane, and a few hairs get caught in my horseshoe. I look up and bring my hoof to my face to examine the new addition: a silvery piece of metal that glows with a faint white light. I tap it against the cloud, which seems solid, and hope the magic holds long enough for me to get everything I need. Cities high in the air made out of condensed vapor… Cloudsdale really isn't my kind of town.

They've got to have quills up here, though, right? Quills that don't fall through the clouds? Or do pegasi just pluck a feather out of their wings when they need one?

"Hey, good morning. Are you alright, sir?" I turn my head and see a dark purple pegasus mare land nearby. She's curvy but none too graceful as she trots up to me. Pretty face, but that mane looks like it could use a good brushing. Eh, a six. "You look like you could use a hoof. Are you lost?" Seven for friendliness.

"Nah, I'm okay," I reply, lowering my voice a bit. I stand and shake little wisps of cloud out of my mane and tail. They curl around themselves before disappearing into the ether. "I'm on my way to an interview, and I just lost my quill. Didn't bother getting everything enchanted." I lift up my hoof to show her the horseshoe. "Just the basics."

She nods and smiles. "I was wondering about that. We don't get many earth ponies up here, but if you need a quill…" She trails off, turning her head and bringing the tip of her wing to her muzzle. She bites down and winces as she pulls out a feather. Huh. So they really do just yank one out.

Her eyes find mine, and she mumbles a bit through her gritted teeth, holding the new pen, "…here yuh go! It even matches yuhr shirt!" I take it from her, tucking it deep into my breast pocket. The deep purple hue matches exactly, and it even has some of the same black highlights. "Anything else you need?"

My shoulders relax, and the rest of my frustration melts away at her soft voice. "Actually, yeah, if you wouldn't mind." She leans in slightly. I give her a warm smile and bright eyes. "I've never been to Cloudsdale before, and I'm looking for Soarin' Windsong's place."

Her expression immediately collapses and twists around, like I'd vomited right in front of her. "Oh. Should have guessed." All the cheeriness has drained from her voice. She speaks flatly. "I might need that quill back." Touchy, touchy. Five. "I mean, haven't all you stupid reporters gotten enough? It's been months!"

I'm prepared for this kind of treatment, though. "No, no, it's alright." I fumble around in my pocket again, careful not to knock the quill out this time. I take out the lanyard with the laminated card and slip it over my head. "See? I've got a day pass to the Estates."

She scans my credentials, probably looking for the word "Press" somewhere. She's not going to find it. "Okay, fine." She points to her left. "Follow this road for two more blocks, then take a left onto Firefly Lane." Her voice is squeaky and annoyed, but at least she's helping me. "You'll see a big sign after about a half mile. If you start getting to downtown, you've gone too far."

Best behavior. I need to be the nicest pony she's ever met. The cognitive dissonance will drive her nuts. "Thank you so, so much! I really appreciate your help." I reach out a hoof for her to shake, a wide smile dominating my face. "If there's anything I can do to return the favor, please don't hesitate to ask."

She looks at my hoof like it's dirty and pauses before giving it a quick shake. "Yeah, whatever. Just don't be an asshole." She doesn't wait for a reply. Instead, she leaps into the air and dashes away.

The sun's barely up. I'm a bit early, and getting to Soarin's place sounds pretty easy, so I can take my time. The chilly clouds crunch under my hooves as I trot along. I take a deep breath of the crisp air, appreciating the clean scent until I start coughing wildly. Guess my lungs don't like the cold air as much as I thought. It's not as bad as the Whinnyapolis winters I'm used to, but the temperature is still just shy of comfortable. At least the slowly rising sun is warming my flank as I move through the rich district.

Sure, the houses all look spacious with nice, big yards, but I don't think I could stand almost every building and lawn shining a blinding white. My eyes lock onto a red building a few blocks down. It's clearly still made of clouds. Some kind of magic to keep it colorful, maybe? It must be expensive, whatever it is.

Nodding at a road sign, I turn down Firefly Lane. A black pegasus with an orange mane and tail gives me a funny look from the sky, floating through the air near me. He doesn't think I see him. It should probably bother me, but right now I'm more distracted by the fear of falling through these clouds again. I cast a glance his way, and the pegasus rapidly focuses his attention elsewhere before turning back to me again. He speaks up with a gruff but muted voice. "Uh, oh, hello!" He waves. "Welcome to Cloudsdale, City of… Clouds!" He's cute. "You, uh, you moving in?"

"Nope, just visiting," I shout, trying to be clear over the gusts of wind. "Lovely place, though. And lovely ponies, too. I could see staying for a while."

"Yeah, it's a good town. It helps to have the right equipment, though." He jerks his head back towards his wings.

I make no effort to hide the fact that I'm checking him out. He doesn't seem to notice yet. I like big dumb guys. An eight. "You've certainly got some nice equipment on you."

"Thanks, I–" He stops moving forward and hovers in place. He's grinning, but it's plastic, artificial. I swear I can hear something snap in his brain. "...Thanks." He looks around, seemingly lost in his own town, before he blurts out, "Uh, have a great stay!" and darts off in a completely different direction. Poor guy. I shouldn't have needled him.

That's what I do, though – dig deep and get at the details other ponies can't or won't discuss. No point in denying who I am or what I've got plastered on my flank.

Interviewing Soarin', though… My heart aches a bit as I saunter along, eyes cast downward. This is going to be a tough one. I'm excited to meet him, sure, but I've read the story over and over again from the tabloids and newspapers, and it's never easy to process. Hearing it directly from the source might be too much.

Still, it's a story to tell, and if I can convince him to jump on a book deal, everypony will be better off. I did a lot of interviews back when my work was… less savory, but plenty of the interviewees said it helped to get everything off their chests. I can only hope Soarin' will be the same way, and Celestia knows I need a big break if I want to try to this whole independent writer thing. I'm already halfway there, right? As far as I know, he hasn't accepted interviews in months.

Nopony can blame him for turning recluse. Hell, I'd probably do the same, at least to get the tabloids off my case. For this long, though?

My badge dangles from my neck, dancing around with every step I take. I stop and recoil at it, thinking about what I could have become. I shake the thoughts out of my head and pick up my pace.

There's the sign. "Sunrise Estates," it reads in curvy, orange letters, and as I get closer, the finer details come into view. How'd they install a wooden sign up here? Never doubt the ingenuity of ponykind when there's a bit to be made, I guess.

For a moment, I wonder why there isn't a gate – isn't this supposed to be some kind of fancy community for the stars? "Wait… Duh." I slap myself on the forehead as a white pegasus zooms over my head and into the compound. "Three dimensions up here. I gotta get used to that."

Failing to see a road, I shrug to myself and walk over a small hill (is it still called a hill?) and towards the houses. A voice booms at me from above. "You! Earth pony!" Looking up, I see a grey pegasus in a blue shirt and hat coming in for a landing. He drops himself onto the cloud just in front of me, blocking my path. I see my reflection as I read his jet-black nametag: Officer Safe Haven. "You lost?" Not a fan of that push broom mustache.

My heart skips a beat, and I curse myself for being so nervous. "No sir, officer." I take the lanyard off my neck and pass him my badge. "I'm here to see Mr. Windsong."

Safe Haven raises an eyebrow at me before examining my badge. "Huh." He turns it over, studying the signature on the back. He nods. "He ain't much for having visitors lately." I catch the badge after he tosses it back. He takes out a small notepad, flipping to a page in the middle. "How'd you get his permission?"

Big smile now. "I sent him a letter and asked nicely. It's amazing what a little courtesy can get you." It also helps when your cousin's a trainer for the Wonderbolts, but it just sounds better this way.

"Yeah. Okay." For a moment, he stares at me with a protruding lower lip. He rolls his tongue around his cheek and finally points to a nearby building, a medium-sized condo that's, of course, made of clouds. "First building on the right. You have a fine day." He takes off.

I look over at the Windsong residence, and my stomach drops. I make my way towards the modest home, trying to set my head straight. "Ok, no big deal. It's just the make-or-break interview of your career. He's just a pegasus, just a regular pony like everyone else… except he's a Wonderbolt. And he's been hounded by every other interviewer this side of Manehattan. And he's not in the best shape. Just don't stare at his legs." I raise an eyebrow. "And stop talking to yourself before he thinks you're a lunatic. Stop talking, and don't stare at his legs."

I'm there. After a quick tap of the doorknocker, I hear an energetic, singsong voice answer. "Coming! Ow!" I hear some hoofsteps accompanied by a soft squeaking that sounds like the wheels of a neglected tractor. The hoofsteps are arrhythmic, unnatural. Don't stare at his legs.

The door opens, and I'm greeted by the smiling face of Soarin' Windsong, stunt flier extraordinaire. Morning light shines through the door onto his buff, toned body, showing off the physique of somepony that's no stranger to athletics. His soft, light blue coat hugs him tightly, unlike the wild, electric blue mane that even now looks to be blowing in an unseen breeze. He looks so solid, except for his two front legs, which shake in the metal braces that struggle to hold him up. The cold steel wraps around each of his joints and fits snugly on his hooves. "Oh, hey! You must be that reporter guy." Buck, I'm staring at his legs.

My head snaps up. "Uh, yes! Well, not reporter, really. M-more like a pony that wants to hear the real story." Am I stammering? C'mon! Deep breath. "You can call me Syn." Without thinking, I offer a hoof for him to shake.

…Shit.

He just chuckles. "Heh heh. Syn, huh?" He raises an eyebrow at me, then coolly gives me a bro-hoof. Phew. "Well, if you've got sins, then why don't you come in for a confession?" His voice has a playful, sexy tone to it. Huh. He's living up to his reputation, at least.

It's probably best to play along for now. I can't be too off-putting if I want him to open up. I lower my voice and give him a sly wink. "Business before pleasure, slick. I'm not the only one with secrets."

Stepping inside, I scope out as much as I can. His entryway is decorated like a jock's dorm room – Spartan except for a few awards and some Wonderbolts paraphernalia with his face on it. I wonder if he used to have more.

Soarin' leads me to the parlor, where something is off. It takes me a moment, but I notice a pattern: almost everything in the room looks like it's been broken and reassembled. The couch has a foreleg rest that looks off-kilter, an ornate lamp shows several large cracks, and one of the sides of the bookcase is a slightly different color than the rest. On one wall, there's a fixture for a large picture, but nothing hangs from it. Actually, the only picture in this room is on a small table by the couch, showing Soarin' being hugged by an older, cerulean pegasus that I don't recognize.

The furnishing might be weathered, but it's a nice space. I take a seat and set up my interview materials, noting that my chair has a loose leg. "Nice place you've got here." I'm, at most, thirty percent sarcastic.

Soarin' lies down on the couch opposite me, rolling his eyes. "Psh, hardly. I'm selling it as soon as I can." His voice is a soothing baritone, but it has nasally, slightly whiny quality to it, like a child's. "You interested?" He shifts uncomfortably, obviously trying to position his metal braces.

"Heh, no way." I hold up a hoof, showing off the glowing horseshoe. "Don't think I could ever get used to wearing these all the time."

"Eh, it's not as hard as you might think." The braces creak into place, and he exhales. "So, Mister 'Business Before Pleasure,' I don't like waiting. What do you want to know?"

I take out my notepad and new quill and give him my full attention. "Well, everything."

He smirks, and his voice becomes mockingly enthusiastic. "My name is Soarin' Windsong. I'm a pegasus pony, which means I have these things on my back called wiiiiings." He nods back to them. "They help me fly."

I chuckle. "Smart ass."

"Well, when you ask a stupid question..." He gestures with a hoof and rolls his eyes again.

I refocus and ignore the fact that I didn't actually ask a question. He's putting up walls. It's not surprising, I guess. He's been through a lot, but I don't want to beat around the bush and get some watered-down version of events that I could read in any of the papers. I lean forward a bit, maintain eye contact, and adopt a soft but serious tone. "Soarin', what happened these past several months?"

He points at me, smiling. "Bro, you've got a lot to learn about interviews. I'd think an author would know how to at least read a paper once in a while." I wonder if he's deflecting the question on purpose. It's probably just the way he deals with discomfort. No matter.

I continue to look at him, my expression blank, quill and ink ready to take notes. Few ponies open up right away, especially to a stranger. It's important to know what to say to get them to talk, but it's even more important to know when to remain silent and let them open up on their own.

Soarin' stares at me a moment, then shakes his head and blows air through his lips. "Dude, are we just going to have a staring contest?" I remain stoic. He raises his voice. "What, you wanna hear about the juicy details? The sex? Dirt on the team?"

I don't move.

His breathing gets heavy. "Ugh! Seriously? I've been through all of this! You think you're going to get something more scandalous than what's already out there? Good. Bucking. Luck! It's all out there already, and I don't need some asshole coming in here and judging me for it!"

I set my items on the wooden nightstand next to me, confident they won't fall through the floor. I look back at Soarin', maintaining my poker face.

His face has turned red. He takes a deep breath and looks down at the floor. "Sorry. It's… been tough lately. It never gets easier, and I'm still not really sure what's supposed to happen next."

I speak as gently as I can. "I imagine it's been very frustrating."

Soarin' nearly cuts me off and looks right at me. "It has! You have all these ponies watching you all the time, and they treat you like some kind of toy, and they don't care who they hurt as long as they get what they want." He trails off, casting his gaze downward again and repeating himself in a small, weak voice. "They don't care who gets hurt, as long as they get what they want." His eyes look sunken and tired. He rubs one front hoof with the other and speaks without looking back up at me. "So, what do you wanna know?"

I pick up my notepad and quill again, then calmly say, "Everything."

Soarin' takes a deep breath and a short pause. "It started in a hotel room."

Chapter 2 - Performance

I didn't sleep that night, or at least not enough to do me any good. I'd roll over, get comfortable, and start to doze off, but then my brain kept going in circles – Sapph, Wonderbolts, nopony. Lather, rinse, repeat. You know how when you can't do something simple, your heart starts to race? You get so focused on how much you're failing that you can't possibly succeed. I heard myself grunting at one point, and I kept slamming my head into the pillow, like that would relax me.

Eventually, I looked over at the clock. "Seriously?" It was almost sunrise. "Ugh… Buck this." I threw the sweaty sheets off of me and made my way to the bathroom, grabbing a small raincloud from the closet. Stepping into the shower, I lifted the cloud above my head and gave it a sharp jab, and the icy water washed away any chance I might have had at getting to sleep.

I toweled off and grumbled to myself about another sleepless night. I headed straight for the door, passing by a few pieces of fruit I'd left on the kitchen table. They looked tempting, but my stomach – still burning from all the drinks in Manehattan – churned at the sight of them, screaming at me that I'd better leave them alone. If I'd thought about it, I would have realized how stupid it was to go flying on an empty stomach, but it turned out to be one of the best awful decisions I've ever made.

With a shake of my mane, I stepped outside and took a deep breath of the crisp morning air. Nopony was out that early, and everything was still. My eyes quickly adjusted to the twilight, and for a second, I thought about trying to sleep again.

But I shook my head. "No," I mumbled. No place was comfortable for me, and if I was going to be awake anyway, I wanted to do the one thing that still made me happy.

Stretching out my wings and cracking my neck, I focused again on my goal: the Wonderbolts Academy. I couldn't see the grounds from my front yard, but I could visualize every corner of it, and I could map out every flap of my wings that it would take to get there. Just thinking about the flight made my wingtips tingle with warmth, and as I trotted forward, that warmth spread to the rest of my body. I picked up speed, and as I neared the road, I leapt into the sky, where I soon soared above the dozens of nearly identical buildings that made up the Estates.

Even though my eyes adjusted quickly to the dim morning light, it was still too dark to make out a lot of Cloudsdale's details. I flew a few hundred meters up so nopony would bother me. The wind bit into my skin, but at least it was at my back. I saw vague shapes of houses as I flew over them, occasionally broken up by a modest park or a business district. A few other pegasi flew below me on their way to work, but I could only start making out the fine details as I approached the Academy and the sun peeked up over the horizon.

The Academy is best described as "square." The main campus is square, the buildings are square or rectangular, and with the exception of a few training grounds, almost everything is made up of straight lines. The offices, almost all cloud buildings with metal reinforcement, are near the east side, and the middle is reserved for the barracks, mess hall, and a few streets and open lots for marching and take-offs. The west end is a little more free-flowing with open areas for weight training, including an outdoor gym. Statues pepper most of the corners, all depicting famous Wonderbolts or historically important formations. Besides the training plateau, everything is made of clouds or metal, and it all has a very clean, very professional look to it that was supposed to make us feel like our commanders knew what they were doing but really just put everypony on edge.

The Academy was starting to come to life right as I arrived. Some of the more dedicated recruits were practicing in the fields, and a few other ponies milled about, taking in the morning before the real work began.

"Wonder if Streak's up yet," I said to myself as I spiraled down towards the barracks. A guard in a dark blue uniform casually flew past, but he recognized me and didn't cause any trouble. I snuck down to the barracks and peeked inside. Fire Streak was sprawled on a bed with one hoof on the floor. "Heh. Snooze, ya' lose, buddy." Figured I wouldn't wake him.

I flew over to the training plateau, a giant green splotch with a track, plenty of gear, and a landing strip. Clouds are great, but it's nice to have something a little more solid to do exercises on. A green pegasus was taking laps through the obstacle course. She was alright, but some of her turns were wide. Not too impressive, but I admired the work ethic. She might make main squad someday.

I found a nice soft patch of grass and stretched out with some wing-ups, but it didn't take long for the exhaustion to catch up with me. A couple sets in, I started counting out loud to keep myself focused. "Fifty-three… Fifty-four… ugh… Fifty-five…"

My eyebrows furrowed and my teeth ground together as I stared out at the sunrise. I felt the strain all the way to the tips of my feathers. "One-Sixty-seven…" My breaths were shallow, and my face had flushed red. At least my brain was occupied.

"Two-Eighty-eight… Eigh… eigh… Hwuh!" I collapsed onto the soft grass, where a small burr dug into my belly. Two hundred and eighty wing-ups is pretty respectable, but I suddenly dreaded having to go all day. I yawned and thought to myself, 'Maybe one of the mess hall cooks has some coffee ready.'

A stern, raspy voice chided me from behind. "You're getting sloppy towards the end, Soar'." It was low, but definitely female.

"Hey, Spitz," I said between breaths. I didn't lift my head from the ground. Sure, I probably should have stood up and saluted or something, but Spitfire and I were cool, and I couldn't get past the thought that, for somepony with such a terrifyingly loud voice, she sure snuck up on me a lot.

I heard her plodding closer. "Goes for your performances lately, too." Spitfire, a yellow pegasus with the fiery mane, stopped in front of me as I hobbled onto my hooves. She was already laying into her critique. It got annoying, but it was a huge part of the group's success. She cocked an eyebrow at me. "If you're not going to follow through to the end, you might as well not even try. It's not going to impress an audience, it's not going to impress your reports…" She flashed a scowl. "…and it's certainly not going to impress me." Spitfire had a knack for motivation, and I felt myself snap to proper posture just in time for her voice to soften and concern to creep into her eyes. "So what's eating you?"

Sitting down, I put on a goofy smile. She'd have been disappointed with anything else, and I really, really didn't want to go into what I was feeling inside. "Uh, nothing! Nope, just felt like hitting the course early today and getting in some extra practice."

Spitfire glared. I grimaced.

She leaned in, no doubt expecting more. When she didn't get it, she sat down, rubbing a hoof to her temple and shutting her eyes tightly. After a moment, she looked up. "Soarin', you never – NEVER –," she spat, punctuating her remark with a poke to my nose, "get up early unless something's bothering you, so stop being stupid and tell me what's up."

I scooted a few inches away, a bead of sweat running down my face. "I told you, I'm fine." I couldn't look at her until I had my comeback. "Besides, since when do you care how about anypony's feeeeelings?" I lingered on that last word, pointing a hoof back at her and wearing a sarcastic smirk.

Spitfire wasn't buying it. "Since it's started affecting your performance!" She stomped a hoof onto the soft ground. "Soarin', I can't pretend I haven't noticed. You've had your head in the clouds for weeks now, and everypony's counting on you to be a star performer, but you haven't been! Remember two weeks ago, when you clipped Fleetfoot during the entrance?"

How could I forget?

It was the first show of our stint on the east coast, and we were all psyched to be back home after so many months on the road. The downtown stadium was packed, the noise rumbled in my chest from the moment we left the locker room, and the energy from the crowd more than made up for exhaustion from being in bed with a lucky stallion all afternoon.

The music swelled. The thunder rumbled. Cloud machines spewed out enormous black clouds over the open-top stadium, blocking out all the light from the city. Darkness fell over the crowd, but they just cheered harder in their blindness. The clouds condensed together, forming a giant, writhing mass. Most of the team had snuck into the cloud cover from above, where they started flying clockwise around the rim of the stadium to keep the foggy canopy in place. The announcer's deep voice bellowed over the sound system. "Maaaaaaaaares and gentlecolts! The moment has almost arrived!"

Our cue. I nodded at Lightning Streak and Skyhoof. They looked like they were gonna pee themselves with excitement. We jumped away from the landing platform outside the stadium, flying straight up into the night sky. The announcer continued below us. "Get ready for Equestria's finest fliers, the rulers of the sky, the conquerors of clouds…"

Hundreds of meters above the city and soaring higher, I took a deep breath and gave the signal with my hoof. We made a perfect loop in a triangle formation – me in front – and dove back toward the stadium.

"… in ten! Nine! Eight!"

We picked up speed. I extended a hoof, cutting through the wind to reduce the drag for my teammates.

"Seven! Six!"

Small sparks crackled just in front of my hoof. Electricity tingled all over my body, making my coat stand on end even under my flight suit. Blood rushed to my head as the air whipped past us, too fast to breathe. Right on schedule.

"Five! Four!"

Time slowed down. Time always slowed down when I was about to do something epic. It gave me time to pump myself up. 'Okay, Soarin', this is all you. Lightning and Skyhoof are backing you up, but this is all about you. You've got this.' The black clouds swirled into a giant target, and we were headed right for the center. 'I'm the best there ever bucking was.'

"Three!"

We saw our teammates dash out of the clouds in every direction, perfectly synchronized.

"Two!"

A muscle in my flank spasmed, and I almost blacked out from all the energy swirling around us. The clouds were close, too close to turn back.

"Please welcome…"

This was the moment.

"THE WONDERBOLTS!"

I punched through the exact center of the clouds. A deafening crack shot out from my body as I broke the sound barrier, sending lightning streaking all around me. The streaks looked like white-hot blood vessels, spreading across the pent-up clouds and evaporating them in a flash of brilliant light.

Skyhoof, Lightning, and I broke our formation and split off just before hitting the ground, making a low pass over the crowd and leaving behind a still-crackling contrail. I could see the awe and wonder and excitement on so many faces… and I got greedy.

I broke formation to do an extra corkscrew maneuver. It only took a second, and I thought I could catch up to where I needed to be, but I got disoriented coming out of the spin, and by the time I righted myself, I was late for the lattice flyover but I went for it anyway and I felt something soft crunch against my hoof and when I turned around for the return there was a squadmate missing and I…

…

I was so pissed at Fleetfoot for copping out during the big opening. Sweet Celestia, I'm a dolt. I don't think anyone in the audience noticed, though, since Swift Gust was on standby and got right into formation. She's great…

She's… really…

Spitfire snorted, and I shook my head, bringing myself back to the present at the Academy. My eyes found the ground. "I was… tired that night."

"Like buck you were!" She sounded hurt, something I wasn't really expecting. "You almost ended her career – not to mention her life – by being careless! If the spotters had been as out of it as you were–"

"Look, I already apologized to her! I'm sorry!" It came out more pleading than I wanted. "I was off my game that night." I felt my body shrinking into itself, like I was trying to hide in the wide open space. "I don't know what went wrong."

Spitfire lowered her voice as she stood and stepped toward me. "I do. You're slipping up here…" She tapped me between the eyes, not at all gently. "…because something's wrong down here." I got another jab, this time to the chest. Quietly, she added, "You're not into it these days."

I glanced down to her hoof, then back to her face, then down and away. "Sorry…"

She took a deep breath and looked at the sunrise. My coat stood on end, waiting for her to yell at me, but she calmly explained, "Soarin', I can't make you tell me what's wrong. I'm not even convinced you've got it figured out. I just hope you can come to terms with it before you find yourself without a job."

I was so relieved she wasn't angry that her words didn't register right away. "It's no proble… Wait, what!?" My head snapped back at her, eyes wide. I must have leapt two meters in the air before I landed with my face right up against hers. "WHAT?"

She didn't even flinch. "Soarin', I'm your friend, and I'm rooting for you." She started walking away. "But, friendship or not, I can't in good conscience let you endanger the rest of the team while you're stuck in your own head." I couldn't move. "Just take it a day at a time, and start with eighty laps around the track. You need to work on endurance."

Hearing an order short-circuited my fear and got my lips moving. "Hey, Thursdays are choice days! We're supposed to do whatever workout we like."

She spoke over her shoulder. "And the co-captain of the Wonderbolts is supposed to have a flawless show every night. You're working endurance today." She hopped into the air and dashed away.

Spitfire left me alone on the plateau, and I stuck out my tongue at the thought of working endurance. Looking around, I saw that green pagasus still working the obstacle course. She looked like she was about to collapse. I sighed. "Dammit."

* * * * *

Soarin's face wrinkles up, like he's tasted something sour.

I scratch my beard and cock my head to the side. "What's so bad about endurance training? I've seen your shows – you never falter, even during the finales."

"Well…" He pauses and looked up and to the side, like he's trying to fish an answer from his brain. "The shows are different. You've got the crowd, you've got the rush. You don't even notice how tired you're getting."

"But when you're just doing laps…"

"Ugh," he whined, flopping hard on the couch. "It's sooooo boring!"

* * * * *

I started panting at around the fourtieth spin around the track, right as I passed by the lap counter. Spitfire had been right, as usual. Her long-distance regimen was wearing me out, and I wasn't even halfway done. Not that I was pacing myself, though. Flying at anything less than maximum speed seemed criminal, and the faster I could get done, the better.

Aside from my heavy breathing and the jingling of the safety goggles around my neck – there's a big box near the workout equipment, and they make us pick up a pair whenever we train – everything was silent. Everypony else was off doing lighter workouts, and none of them had wanted to come pass the time with me, not even Fire Streak, so I only had myself to talk to. "Wonder if Spitfire told them to leave me alone. Probably thought I'd try to make it a race." I huffed at the thought. "Aaaaaand, she'd be right."

With nopony to keep me company, I just kept flying around…

And around…

And around…

"This sucks." Sweat was beading on my coat, cooling me off but making me itch. I mean, I could deal with the physical strain – no problem, I'd push through – but between the loneliness of the track and the muffled droning of the breeze, all my favorite old demons came marching back.

My mood rose and sank with my wings. 'The hell is wrong with me? Nothing! I'm Soarin' Bucking Windsong! I'm just in a funk.' My lips pursed involuntarily. 'Okay, but how long have I been telling myself that? It's been at least a month, maybe two. Eh, it'll be fine but holy cow Spitfire threatened my job!!! What a bitch.'

My shoulders went slack, and I slowed down. 'No, she's not a bitch. She's just doing her job.' My heart beat faster, and it wasn't the exercise. 'And I can't even seem to do mine. Buck, the tabloids would go nuts over a washed up Wonderbolt, and I'd have no more money or mares or stallions or anything! No more nights out! No more fans! No more PIE!'

I laughed at myself when I realized how far off the rails my thoughts had gone. Sometimes, that’s the only defense you've got. "Nah, there'll always be pie."

I took a look around. Nopony had heard me, and I started getting that same feeling as the night before, that feeling of aimless restlessness that irritated me to the core like an infection. I wanted to be somewhere – anywhere – that would get those anxieties off my mind. That infection felt like it was spreading inside me, and as I kept flying, I sneered, feeling the pressure build up inside me until I couldn't take it anymore.

"Aw, buck it." I growled, forcefully strapping my goggles on. I dashed forward, full throttle! My increased wingpower knocked down the lap counter as I blew past, and sneered down at the track below. I sailed out of the training area and dove through an opening in the clouds.

I had to get away. I had to escape.

Chapter 18 - A Hazy Tour

Saturday morning. Our day on the town. Just what I'd been waiting for.

Easy, right?

My heart beat erratically as I reached up and knocked on Braeburn's door. I'd gotten up early to shower and preen myself again, but I still hoped he'd help me with those tough spots. I didn't want to give him an excuse to stay inside, though. Part of me was afraid he'd chicken out or, worse, hate me for making him parade around town with me.

I chewed on my tongue. "He needs this." Heh. Like some kind of freaking psychologist or something, right? I think… telling myself I was helping was easier than admitting how much I needed him.

Nopony answered the door. I knocked again and steeled myself for two scenarios: he wasn't going to answer, or he'd open the door with the saddest, most worried face I could imagine.

Is it just me, or is everypony bad at predicting things? I really gotta stop trying to do that.

The door flew open and slammed on the inside, and Braeburn's head popped out at me. "Hey there, Big Blue! Ready to paint the town red? Or are ya' yellow? Ha! Get it?" He reached out and cuffed me across the shoulder, all smiles and giggles. He hit a lot harder than you'd think, but it didn't hurt. He rocked back and forth on this front hooves a couple times, getting pretty close to my face as he waited for a response.

All the tension was gone, and I reeled from the lameness of his joke. I shook my head and smiled. "You're amazing."

Braeburn leaned in and brushed his nose against mine, which made my wings hitch up just a bit. "And you're a sweetheart. Glad you're here."

My heart fluttered, and my eyes half-closed. "I-I am, too."

I stood there for a second, but Braeburn kept rocking back and forth on his hooves, staring at me with half-lidded eyes. Then he kept doing the same thing. Then he wobbled a bit and kept doing the same thing some more. A breeze blew by, aaaaand the magic was kinda lost. I looked around, suddenly feeling super exposed. I turned back to him. "So..."

"Uh-huh?" He stopped rocking and smiled at me again. He took a couple unnatural, wobbly steps in place and started tapping the floor with a forehoof. His eyes were red, and his cheeks were flushed.

I backed off half a step. "Did you... sleep last night?"

Braeburn shifted in place again, but his voice didn't lose any of its bounciness. "Oh, hardly! I was..." He looked up and to the side. His next few words came out wooden and rhythmic. I'm pretty sure he'd rehearsed. "...too excited for the morning." He looked at me with a big grin, then snickered and lay down. It looked like he was nodding off. Then his head snapped up and he stood up again and leaned against the doorframe.

'Oh, dammit.' It hit me. I jabbed his chest and spoke flatly. "Braeburn, you're drunk."

Braeburn just grinned wider. He looked around slyly, then leaned in and held a hoof to his face, jamming it to his lip in a way that looked super uncomfortable. "Sh-sh-sh-sh-sh," he whispered through the snickers. "If you don't tell, I'll let you have a nip. Aunt Honeycrisp's own moonshine. Tastes just like apple pie."

Now, see, alcohol's famous for causing bad decisions. The thing is, everypony thinks the bad decisions start once you've already been drinking. Nope. "Sure!"

Braeburn hooked me by the neck, dragged me inside, and slammed the door shut. The early morning light gave the room a faint glow. He bounced over to the small couch and plopped down, and I could see a big, clear glass jug sitting on the ground. Braeburn patted the seat next to him, and I trotted over.

I should have refused. It was nerves, though. I mean, I wasn't thinking straight! I was excited for the day, and I figured if it helped him get through, then yeah, why not? Did I know I was making a mistake? Probably. Did I know how much I was hurting him? Dude, if that thought had crossed my mind for even a second, I would have stopped. I just... I'm an idiot.

I sat down, and Braeburn scooped up the jug. The amber liquid inside caught the light as it sloshed around like water, and there was only about a third of it left. I prayed he hadn't drunk the rest just that morning.

Braeburn tapped the side of the jug. "This here's Aunt Honeycrisp's pride and joy. It tastes just like apple pie." He was repeating himself. How many red flags can you get, right? "Have a nip."

He passed me the booze, and I swirled it around a few times, watching the alcohol dance. I looked over at Braeburn, who gave me a little nudge. Moonshine isn't very forgiving, but I wasn't going to back out. I raised the jug to him. "Bottom's up!" I tilted my head back and tipped the jug.

It wasn't fast enough for Braeburn. "Aw, don't be so timid!" He quickly reached a hoof over and bumped the bottom of the jug. The rim hit my teeth, but he'd gotten the job done – the moonshine sloshed into my mouth, but I was able to keep it all in despite the sudden deluge.

Apple pie. He hadn't been lying. It tasted just like apple pie, with all the cinnamon and sweetness and everything. I'm always tempted to chug to show off or whatever, but this stuff deserved some special attention. I swished it around my mouth before swallowing.

No burn. Just warmth.

No bad aftertaste. Just pie.

I brought the bottle down and set it on my lap. My head slowly cranked towards him, and I smirked. "Yeah... You're not getting this back." I clutched the jug to my chest and stuck my tongue out at him.

Braeburn snickered as he settled back. "Good, ain't it? Careful, though. That stuff'll knock ya' on your ass." His cheeks glowed. He paused and gave me a sideways glance. "Especially a city-slicker like you."

"Oh, really?" I wasn't gonna take that! I've got pride, and I can drink any of the 'Bolts under the table. Just ask Streak. Actually, no. He probably won't remember.

I wrapped my lips around the rim and tilted the jug back, suckling on it like a newborn foal. It slid down my throat like liquid candy until there were only a few swallows left. With a big sigh, I set the jug down hard on the couch. "Ha! Just like water."

Braeburn's eyes stayed half-closed as he chuckled and slowly shook his head. "You're screwed."

After that display, I was feeling cocky. I rested a foreleg on the back of the couch and turned my body to him. "Heh. If things go well, I won't be the only one." I winked and clicked my tongue at him. "Third date, after all." No, the booze hadn't loosened me up yet. I was just feeling bold.

Braeburn didn't react right away. He eyed me up and down, and he took another long look at my waist before he met my gaze again. He squinted a little more, but he didn't stop grinning as he reached for the rest of the moonshine. "Maybe, but I don't much appreciate my stallions acting all greedy." He took the jug, drained it in two gulps, and set it on the floor. It wobbled on the floorboards before finally tipping over and landing with a thud. No shatter, though.

"Oh, so I'm your stallion now?" I was just starting to feel the warmth spread to my limbs. "Didn't realize I'd made my choice."

Braeburn had slid from goofy-drunk to that stage where you just wanna chill out and listen to some smooth music. His voice was mellow, and he looked like he might pass out. "You got an objection?" He scooted over and rested his head on my shoulder, right in the space I'd made for him. His eyes closed as he settled in.

I let my foreleg slip from the back of the couch onto his shoulder. "Not a single one." I squeezed. He let me.

We both took a deep breath and sighed at the same time. My heart leapt at that. It's one of those stupid things that's never as cute when other ponies do it, but when it happens to you, it's the greatest thing in the world.

We stayed like that for a while. The clock ticked from the kitchen, and I found myself counting the seconds. I kept losing count, but that was okay. The warm feeling on my side made everything okay.

After a while, my mouth started feeling dry, and my stomach grumbled at me when it realized what I'd done to it. I smacked my lips. "So. I haven't eaten anything. How bad's it gonna get?"

Braeburn cracked an eye and looked up at me. His mane brushed against my foreleg and sent shivers all the way to my tail. "Like I said, you're screwed." He yawned. "And your cheeks are red, by the way."

I lifted my free hoof to feel my cheek. It was hot. "Yeah, let's get some food. You said there's a restaurant in town?"

Braeburn's shoulder twitched. "Ya' really want to go out there blitzed off your ass?"

"Psh. I'll be fine," I whined, jostling him a little. "You promised."

"I..." He took a few breaths. "I just don't want to cause trouble." He was making excuses.

And they weren't going to work. I leaned my head down and met him eye-to-eye. "Said the pony that tore down a henhouse to build his mansion."

Braeburn snickered. "Soarin', I–"

"You broke apart families, Braeburn. Those little eggs probably got dumped into an orphanage somewhere."

"That's–"

"Small ones. Like, six or twelve at a time. Do you know what happens to kids in those places?"

Braeburn rolled his eyes and laughed into my foreleg-pit. "No, Soarin'. What happ–"

"They get eaten! A bunch of innocent little eggs, scrambled or fried or pied, all because you–" My voice was getting louder. "–wanted another vacation home." I lifted up his chin so he'd look at me, then went wide-eyed and added, "You monster!"

Braeburn just shook his head and laughed again. "Alright, alright. I'll give you your damn tour." He pushed away from me and stood up, and the side of my body suddenly felt way too cold. "Just no flying until you sober up. I don't need to scrape a pegasus off somepony's roof this weekend." He started a slow march to the door.

"Lead on!" I stood up, but my right forehoof missed the ground somehow. I stumbled and felt super dizzy, but I caught myself and stood in a wide stance. "Whoa. Head rush."

Braeburn looked over his shoulder and flicked his tail at me. "Heh. You wish. Let's get some food in you."

That moonshine really hit me about halfway into town. The sun shone brighter, the ground felt wobblier, and my wings kept flapping all over the place to keep me upright. A few of the locals milled around, but I didn't see any unicorns or pegasi, so hopefully none of the tourists saw me make an ass of myself. I certainly never fell on my face, though. Don't believe anypony that says otherwise. They're lying. They're a bunch of lying liars. I'm a good drunk. I just... needed some food. Yeah.

Braeburn wasn't so steady-hoofed, either, but he was much better at hiding it. He walked with this kind of country swagger, moving around all loose and uninhibited. He still made a misstep or two, but he kept nodding his head to everypony and wishing them a good morning. He even tipped his hat a few times. What did I tell you? Total mayor material.

I honestly don't remember what the inside of the restaurant looked like. There were round wooden tables and, like, a big chalkboard menu or something, but we got stuck in a booth at the very back, away from everypony else. Typical, right? Gotta hide the queers. We'd hate for somepony to get offended. Total crap.

Oh. Wait. Maybe the hostess just saw that we were hammered. Actually, yeah, it's probably better that they stuck us in the corner.

Braeburn and I kept giggling and poking each other under the table. I tried to see how many dirty jokes I could make before we'd get thrown out, and he managed to shut me up before they got too blue. I mean, I'm not telling you what I'd said, but I could have gone a lot worse.

He was taking it in stride, though, and we swapped drinking stories while we waited. I told him about the time just the week before, the one at that private party where I was thinking about him all night. "Dude, you should have seen this guy. Way older than I'd usually go, and he had no idea how to hide it. Total wreck."

Braeburn took another big gulp of ice water, then struggled to set the glass down without spilling. "So you told him to buck off, right?"

"Nope. He got a quickie, at least." I kicked him under the table. "See what you did to me?"

"Ha! Me? You're the one who left." He kicked back. "Least you found your way back."

I smiled. "How about you? Any other good ones?"

"Heh, well..." Braeburn fiddled with his silverware. "One time, uh... a buddy and I drank our way through a whole barrel of cider in the middle of the night." He lowered his voice. "We ended up sneaking onto Silverstar's roof and, uh... doin' the tango, if you catch my drift."

I burst out laughing. "Dude! He's got kids!" For some reason, I also thought it was hilarious imagining Braeburn doing the actual tango on somepony's roof.

Braeburn's face went red. He cast a quick look around, then leaned in, laughing along with me. "Oh, shut your pie hole." He tried to shush me by grabbing the hay sausage off my plate and stuffing it in my mouth. It worked, but then I just sucked on it and flicked my tongue across the tip and made a bunch of lewd noises until we both lost it again.

It was a lot of fun, and by the time we left, I think everypony in the restaurant was looking at us.

* * * * *

Soarin' wipes his mouth with a napkin, which he lets fall to the empty plate. His braces squeak again as he sets his hooves down. "Speaking of which..." He jerks his head behind him.

I take the last sip of my drink and take another subtle look around. Soarin's noticed, too. The rest of the conversations around us have stopped, and the pegasus couple two tables over is outright staring at us. I set my cup down and wipe up a few wayward crumbs. "Back to your place, then?"

Soarin's lower lip sticks out, and he works his jaw back and forth while raising an eyebrow at me. "Uh... no." High-pitched. Breathy. Slight inflection at the end. He's worried? No, he doesn't want me to know something. Or maybe he's still angry about the book deal comment. I fidget in my chair and look away for a moment. It was just an idea.

No. It was stupid of me. That's what it was. It was a miscalculation, a mistake that cost me my notes and perhaps even my chance to visit his home ever again. I should be thankful he's telling me this story at all.

Sit up straight.

I blink away the doubts from the edge of my mind. I hesitate. "Are we... done, then? You were talking about Saturday, and the first pictures came out Sunday, but I was hoping to get your reaction to the rest of it." Cover your bases. Politeness. "Everything up until now's been great, though." Smile, or he'll think you're playing him.

...

Sweet Luna. I am just like the paparazzi.

My stomach churns, and my bones ache.

Before I can regurgitate my lunch through sheer self-loathing, Soarin' holds up a hoof. "Dude, relax. You don't need to be so high-strung." Might as well tell a pegasus he doesn't need to be so up-in-the-clouds. "We're cool." His eyes dart to the side towards the rest of the customers. "They just don't need to get an earful."

The couple that had been staring quickly turns back to their meal.

I rub my leg to calm myself down. "Certainly. Wherever you're most comfortable."

"Cool." He sucks a little bit of food out of his teeth. "There's a park nearby, about fifteen minutes away by hoof. Nopony's ever there. Let's go." Soarin' pushes his chair back, wincing a little and flinching his left foreleg.

I give him time, then get up as well. We trot out the door with Soarin' leading the way.

* * * * *

Okay. What happened next? There was breakfast, aaaaaaand... Oh yeah!

I hadn't sobered up. Hell, if anything, it felt like it was getting worse. My hooves landed wherever they wanted, I couldn't focus on more than one thing at a time, and the whole town was spinning. My stomach had settled, though. The food hadn't been nearly as good as Braeburn's, but I was just happy to get out with a full belly.

The sun was still too bright, though, and Braeburn saw me squinting. "You really need a–" He burped. Loudly. "–a hat. Next stop!"

The building three doors down had big saloon-style doors, and Braeburn practically pushed me through. I stumbled inside the dim shop, bumping my head on the doors, and stopped dead in my tracks. You know how alcohol messes with your depth perception? I was convinced the shop was bigger than the whole rest of the town, and I couldn't make out where the back wall was.

Hats! All hats! Wall to wall, aisle after aisle, and overflowing in big bins. Pink ones, black ones, cowpony hats with stars, and bonnets in a million sizes. Freaking hats, dude!

"Whoa..." I had to take my steps carefully, and each one felt like my hoof was sinking into the floor. There were piles of hats everywhere. I wanted to go swimming in them.

Braeburn stumbled in, laughing about something. He leaned against me for support. "So, what do you think?"

"HAAAAATS!!!"

"Eeyup." He slapped me on the shoulder. "You really know your clothing."

We walked forward. It felt nice to have somepony supporting my weight, and it made the room stop spinning. We got about halfway down the aisle before I knocked anything over. Not bad, actually.

Braeburn helped me pick up the rack my butt had knocked over, and he took advantage of my inability to move to say, "You, uh..." I saw him bite his lower lip. "Take your pick! My treat!"

He sat down and swayed a little, looking everywhere but at me. He'd flick his eyes at me once in a while to gauge my reaction. Of course, I didn't really understand at the time that he was giving me a gift in a public place, and I really didn't understand how major it was.

I almost let myself flop onto him just to hear him squeak, but instead I managed to take a step towards him. "That's so thoughtful," I said in a clear, direct voice that wasn't at all hard to understand and absolutely didn't come out mumbled because I was wasted.

"What?" His voice echoed in the store.

If anypony else was there, I didn't notice them. "You're a great guy!" I shouted.

Braeburn smiled and managed to keep loopy eye contact.

I sat down in front of him. "Any hat I want?" I told myself, 'Steady. Don't wanna poke him in the eye.'

He nodded. "Any one you like."

"Okay." I took a quick breath, then reached out and nabbed the cowpony hat from his head. Smooth like butter. I put it backwards on my own head, then stuck my forehooves out into the air. "Ta-da!"

Braeburn leaned forward and patted my nose. I thought he was congratulating me on my awesome stunt, but then I realized he was trying to get his hat back. "Gimme."

"No! I want this one." I adjusted the hat. It was still backwards. "It's mine now."

"Heh. That'll be the day." He snatched his hat from me and put it back on, tapping it down just to be sure.

We messed around in the hat store for a long time. It was entertaining, but I think we drove away everypony else. Eventually, I decided I'd stick with the cap I'd bought at the train station, and Braeburn said he owed me a real hat someday.

Funny how life works out sometimes, right?

We walked out of the store. Braeburn made some comment about needing to stop by the Sheriff's office, but I couldn't hear him. Breakfast hadn't absorbed enough alcohol, and I could still feel the world getting woozier. I definitely had the spins, but I was still conscious. "Dude, what the buck is wrong with your aunt? How's she even make that stuff?"

Braeburn wasn't there anymore, so I sat down on the porch outside the hat store and leaned backed against the wall for stability. My head kept bobbing down, too, and my eyelids felt heavy. I nodded off until I heard a voice.

"So, you his new drinking buddy?"

My head snapped up.

A pink mare with a purple mane and tail stared down at me with an angry frown on her face.

I rubbed my eyes. "Who are you?"

"The owner of the business you're ruining. We need to talk." She reached down with her mouth and bit onto the back of my neck to pull me up.

Sign you're super drunk? Realizing something hurts without actually feeling pain. I struggled to get up because my neck protested enough through the haze, and as she walked into the shop, I hobbled after her, back through the doors. A sign hung on the outside that read, "Back in five!"

As soon as I was inside, she pulled me around a corner and laid into me in a sharp, forceful, hushed voice. "Alright, troublemaker. You listen here: it ain't right what you're doing to poor Braeburn."

One of my eyes blinked as I tried to make sense of her words. "What?"

She glowered at me. "I'll make this simple: stop forcing the sauce down his throat. Nopony needs to drink that much."

"Hey!" I pointed a hoof, but she backed off like I'd taken a swing at her. Maybe my limbs weren't as coordinated as I needed them to be. "It's his fault. He had this pie, and it was soooo good." I smiled at the warmth in my cheeks and thought, 'Nailed it!'

"Liar!" she yelled. I shrunk. "Braeburn swore off that stuff after that last coltfriend of his skipped town. Good riddance, I say, but at least he fessed up." She spat at me. "To think Braeburn would find somepony worse than Bronze. He doesn't need to go down that path again."

I sobered right up. "W-what?"

"Sure, he's a grown stallion, and he can make his own mistakes, but we've got his back, you hear? Don't be tempting him with the ways of sin, or I'll kick your sorry backside all the way to Canterlot." She stomped. "Now get out, and don't let anypony else see you like this."

'Worse than Bronze?' Her voice rang in my head as she shuffled me out the door. I wasn't feeling playful or happy anymore.

Braeburn sauntered up a moment later. "There you are! I was afraid you'd hit the sky. Lucky you're so easy to spot. C'mon, there's still a bunch to see!"

The tour went kinda downhill after that. I was suddenly hyper-aware of everything I was doing. Every time I turned around and felt dizzy or giggled at something that wasn't funny, I'd stare over at Braeburn, wonder if I was ruining his life, and stop smiling. The tickle in my chest told me to ask him about it, but I couldn't. I... I didn't want to interrupt the tour.

…

I didn't want him to stop being excited to be with me.

Not like Braeburn stayed relaxed for the whole day, though. At about the time we got to the town hall, he'd started looking over his shoulder again. He kept rushing us into buildings and avoiding other ponies. He'd sobered up, basically, and it all stopped being fun.

We were checking out the water tower – can you even imagine how creepy it must be not having enough water? – when I finally spoke up. "Hey, Braeburn?"

He was quick to answer. "What's up?" He turned to me, but I could still see his eyes darting around, catching every pony that glanced at us.

Ponies like compliments. It's easier to talk about hard stuff when you start out with something positive. That's why Spitfire and I worked so well together, I think. "Appleloosa's great, and–"

That cheered him up, probably more than I wanted. "Darn tootin'! Quite a lot for such a small town, ain't it?"

"Yeah! Great ponies, too." My voice was shaky, and my back leg itched. "Really hospitable, and you can certainly..." I looked away. "…drink." I sauntered over between two buildings, away from prying eyes. The shade was a nice break from the heat.

Braeburn raised an eyebrow and followed me. "What are you getting at?"

I sighed and thought to myself, 'Around town together. I wanna do it the right way.' When I was sure I had his attention, I lowered my voice. "Yesterday, you said there was a dance every Saturday." I took a sharp breath and put on my confident face. No, I don't know what my confident face looks like. I’m not one of those stallions that makes faces at himself in the mirror. Not very often, anyway. Point is, Braeburn didn't need some cutesy, shy guy asking him out. He needed somepony with a backbone. "You. Me. Dancing. Fun times." I flashed him a smile, and a few other thoughts bubbled up. 'Your place. Bed. Lots of moaning.' I spread my wings out. Gotta use your assets, right? "What do you say?"

Braeburn scanned down to my hooves and up to my wings, and a smile broke onto his face. "Yeah. I think I can deal with that."

"Sober."

His smile shattered. "W-what?" His back went rigid, and his tail flicked a few times. "W-why would –"

Wonderbolts aren't subtle. "Because I don't want to be a replacement Bronze."

Braeburn took half a step back, paused, and looked down at the dirt. After an agonizingly long moment, I heard him mumble, "Told you everypony talks."

My wings snapped back to my sides, and I crumpled a little. I'm glad he didn't see me. I took a deep breath and told myself to stallion up. My Captain Soarin' voice, the real direct one that I use to psyche up the team, came out to play. "Braeburn, they know you like stallions. It's fine." I stepped forward and lifted his hat. "Stallions are great!"

He squinted, giggled, and shook his head.

"Especially me. Now, then." I set my hooves down and flared out my wings with military crispness. "You gonna live out every school-filly's dream and let the captain of the hoofball team take you out?"

"Ha!" He stomped a forehoof once, but then he looked way again. "Y–" He exhaled and started nodding. "Yeah. Yeah, that would be okay, I think. Gotta make sure Spring Bell's up for runnin' everything, though." His voice was shaky, but he was agreeing.

"Good! I wanna go with you, though. Not Apple Flask. I'm serious about that no-drinking thing." I told myself I'd be better than Bronze. I wouldn't let myself be the enabler, even if it meant putting up with a bunch of stupid folk music all night.

"Drunk Braeburn doesn’t need a nickname." A warm breeze almost blew his hat off. He reached up, took it off his head, and sat down to spin it around in his hooves. He had trouble keeping eye contact. "There's plenty to do besides just dancing. We could–"

I sat down, too. "Dude, what's the big deal? So they talk, so what?"

"It's different, Soarin'."

"I don't think it is." My tail beat against the dirt. "Ponies talk about other ponies. It happens. You get over it."

I don't know if you're queer, but, like, if you are? I'm sorry about what I said. I get that saying "get over it" isn't real advice, and it's not fair to say that to somepony that's struggling, but it's hard. Once you've gotten past the point of caring what other ponies think about you, it's hard to remember what it was like before, how it felt when you weren't so sure the world would accept you.

When Braeburn didn't respond, I asked, "What's the big deal, anyway?" Heh. Like it's that simple.

"I…" He looked up at me, right in the eye. I think that made it easier, and that makes me happy. "I just want to be normal, Soarin'. A part of the community, not just the weird bachelor that works all the time and can't hold a relationship. See, when you're different, you get isolated, right? I’m sure you've felt it, too."

…

Sorry, just…

He said, "Probably why you're taking time off from the Wonderbolts, right? Not feeling like part of the team?"

…

Ugh.

I'm awful. That's all there is to it.

I swallowed and lied through my teeth. "Yeah. I-I get it. And you're right. I just… needed to get away."

"See? Like I said, it's like I don't have… Yeah, let's go to the dance. It starts at sundown. See you then?"

I liked that idea. It gave me enough time to go sleep off the headache that was creeping into my skull. "Sure! Meet at your place?"

Some of the brightness came back to his eyes. "You got it."

We split up, and I went back to my room at the hotel. I couldn't sleep, though. I kept thinking about how I'd basically guilted Braeburn into going sober. I hate when ponies manipulate each other and always have an agenda, know what I mean?

I downed some water, took some aspirin, and went for a flight. It wasn't as hot that day, and there were even some big clouds that blocked out the sun for a few seconds at a time.

I climbed high into the air and looked down at Appleloosa. It was a splotch. It was a tiny, little puddle of buildings out in the middle of nowhere, insignificant to almost everypony else in the world. Nopony had heard of it, and it barely had an impact on the rest of Equestria.

It was a treasure, though, and it had a lot of reasons to exist. And if it made Braeburn happy to be there and live peacefully despite all the gossip, then that should have been enough. I think I would have come around if I'd had more time.

Bucking paparazzi.

At some point, I drifted over the orchard, and it only took a few seconds to see a little yellow dot moving from tree to tree, bucking apples at a feverish pace. I hovered in the air a little while, high up where he couldn't see me against the blue sky, and wondered about him. 'I don't know. I mean, he's out, right? And nopony ever dates just one pony. Why can't he just get over the fact that ponies are going to judge him?'

I get it now, of course, but it's tough keeping perspective when you're in the moment, you know? It's never as easy as you want it to be.

Chapter 33 - All That We Need

Spitfire's shoulders were set. Her uniform was perfectly crisp, just like her posture. She looked like a monument. When they give her a statue on the Academy grounds someday, she'll be the perfect model for it, especially if the artist can capture that solid smile and those direct, fiery eyes that will make you better flier. "Glad to see you back, Soarin'."

I didn't make a crack about her feelings. Instead, I just felt weightless. "Glad to be back, Spitz."

Spitfire took two steps into the room, looked at Braeburn, and held out a hoof. "Braeburn, right? Nice to meet you. You keeping Soarin' from running his name into the ground?"

"Best I can," he replied with a small laugh. He shook her hoof, and I saw two quick blinks when he realized how solid Spitfire's grip was.

"Well, nopony's going to blame you if you can't. It's a bigger job than any of us could handle. And sorry to be blunt–" She was apologizing? "–but Streak's going to be fired unless he gets out to the team in five minutes. We don't give extended breaks."

Streak laughed. "Thanks for the warning. I mean, they'll need me out there, since you're fired for abandoning your troops."

Spitfire's shoulders relaxed, and she laughed, too. There was just a hint of electricity in the air.

Streak shifted. "And I'm sorry to disobey an order captain, but one of us should probably stay here with Braeburn, at least so security doesn't catch him alone."

"Good judgment, Streak." Spitfire turned her head to Braeburn and said, "Braeburn, do you mind if I take your coltfriend for a few minutes? I need to speak with him privately. It shouldn't take long." Her voice was still raspy, but it didn't have the same edge as it did with the recruits or the media.

Braeburn responded with a nod. "Be my guest."

I bumped my flank into his. "What, you sick of me already?"

"Naw. I just find the décor so fascinatin'." He nudged my shoulder with his nose. "You go ahead. We'll be okay."

'We'll be okay.' I liked that. There was a soothing calm in Fire Streak's barren office, kind of like when you've finished the dishes and realize that it was the last chore of the day. We all breathed easily for a few seconds and just enjoyed it.

After a little more teasing, Spitfire led me outside, and we walked down the hall and into her office. She hadn't changed anything from what I could see. It was full of the standard-issue file cabinets, chairs and desk, but with some of her own flare. Little statues sat all over the place – she's always loved those – and a big area rug with a forked lightning bolt took up most of the floor. She had portraits of her parents on the wall behind her desk, pictures they'd taken when they were still 'Bolts. The blinds were all up, and the sunlight poured in through the windows, giving the whole room a warm glow. Nice when some things stay the same, right?

We got comfortable, me on a metal stool and her in the high-back chair that looked like it should squeak. She folded her forelegs and led with, "So, you still employed?"

I flashed a smile. "Yeah. Thanks to Braeburn and Streak."

I filled her in on what had gone down in Bottom Line's office. Keeping still, she absorbed it all, then slowly spun her chair halfway around to look out the window. She had a good view of the marching grounds and the recruits that practiced takeoffs there. "Fire Streak's full of surprises. We're lucky to have him, Soarin'."

Her voice was a little softer than usual, but I ignored it. "You got that right."

"Really. We are," she said matter-of-factly as she turned back around, forelegs still folded. "Both of us. He's been exceeding everypony's expectations. Not just during the shows, but as a leader, too, even when it's gotten tough." Her head tilted slightly more towards me, and her voice became more even and direct. "He cares about this team, Soarin', and he cares about you, too. I think his first show really hit him over the head with it."

I cocked my head to the side. Streak had been super cagey about what had happened, and I figured Spitfire could help me out. "Yeah, he seemed kinda on edge about that. How did it go?"

"It went well." She took a deep breath and let her eyes drift upwards. "I won't spoil it, though. You should ask him to tell you the whole story sometime."

'Dammit.'

Spitfire reclined in her chair. "He's done pretty well since then, too, even if he almost stepped down when he found out Bottom Line was gunning for you."

I nodded. "Yeah, Bottom Line seemed pretty pissed about it. Did Streak really threaten to quit?"

Spitfire leaned in. Her voice was hushed. "Last Wednesday, when you were officially AWOL, Bottom Line called us in. He hadn't even gotten through saying congratulations before Streak just said…" She held up a hoof and tried to imitate Streak's voice. "'If you cut Soarin', I walk, and I'm talking half the team with me.'" She put her hoof down and sounded like herself again. "Completely straight-faced. Calm, too. He knew exactly what he was doing, and Bottom Line and I were stunned. Heh. Didn't know he had it in him."

I searched her face, and it was clear she was telling the truth, but something didn't add up. I'd seen how Bottom Line had reacted when Streak had threatened to walk. Bottom Line doesn't cave that easily. My voice was low and inquisitive. "Spitfire, what Streak did for me was amazing, but… Bottom Line's hard-headed. Losing a new captain wouldn't have stopped him from getting me out of the picture. Did you…?"

Spitfire smiled. Her armor was cracking again.

…no, not cracking. This wasn't like when I'd yelled at her or any of those times that the team had gone silent when she'd approached them at a party. This time was different. She wasn't on edge or trying to hide what was behind those eyes, and she wasn't rushing to put her sunglasses back on her face. She wanted me to see. She wanted me to know she was sincere. "I told him I'd take the other half."

My cheeks flushed, and I felt that lifting feeling in my chest all over again. Without noticing, I was on all fours in front of her desk. "Spitz! Seriously?"

She nodded. "Seriously."

I thought my smile was going to rip my face in half. 'This is what family is supposed to be,' I thought. I was home. Being a Wonderbolt isn't just about the flying or the fame or the competition. It's the team. You do it for the team, and they do it for you, and when you've been through as much as we have, things just click. Spitfire's a part of my family, too, a friend that's more than a friend. Braeburn has his cousins, and I have my friends, and my friends are the best.

…like, objectively the best. You noticed that we all ended up being captains, right?

Spitfire shook her head. "We're a team, Soarin'. I gotta watch out for my 'Bolts, especially the ones that can't watch out for themselves."

"Wow…" I swallowed. "Thanks, Spitfire."

"And hey, Soarin'?" She was blushing slightly.

I cocked an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

She pursed her lips, and I saw the gears turning in her head. "While we're being candid…"

My tail swishing, I sat back down. "What is it?"

She paused. Her tongue rolled around her mouth, and she raised an eyebrow at me.

I grinned and whined, "Whaaaat?"

She drew a quick breath. "I'm deciding whether or not I should tell you. The last time I tried to open up, you pretended to sneeze."

My chest felt heavy for a second. "Oh. Sorry." I didn't want to be a downer, so I perked up and held my head high. "I promise I'll overreact to whatever you say."

She smirked. "Probably best to get it out of your system, right?"

I puffed out my chest. "Right!"

"Okay." Her shoulders relaxed. "In that case, you're–"

"Meeeee?" I said, opening my eyes wide as I slapped my chest and contorted my face.

"Hm-hm. No. There's nothing–"

"Nothing!?" I gasped, grabbing the sides of my face and pulling down on my cheeks. "How can there be nothing? My whole life is a lie!"

She rolled her eyes and spoke louder. "There's a rumor going–"

"A RUMOR??? Oh, no!" I jumped up and threw my front hooves onto her desk. "Spitfire, what the hell are we going to do? The Wonderbolts have never had to face something as serious as a rumor before!" I sighed heavily. "Ugh…" My shoulders sank. I sniffled, then set my shoulders and squared my jaw. I looked directly at her with a low grunt. "Spitfire, I'm sorry, but we have no choice. These rumor-spreading ponies are a threat to all of Equestria." I slapped her desk with a quick smack! "That's it. I'm calling in an airstrike." I held a hoof up to my face and shouted towards the door. "Code red! Signal H! Ice cube! Capybara! Shuttlecock!"

Her voice was flat, but I could hear a chuckle stifled beneath it. "Soarin', I didn't even tell you who was spread–"

Solemnly, I turned my head, narrowed my eyes, and drew out every word. "It's too late, Spitfire. There's going to be blood on all our hooves in mere minutes." I bowed my head and put a hoof on my heart. "Luna forgive us."

I looked up when I heard a slow clap. Spitfire was snickering. "You done?"

I smiled and thought for a minute. "Mmm… Yeah, I'm good."

"Good. Soarin'–"

"No, wait. One more." I leaned in with bright, crazy eyes. "Eeeeeyessum?"

Her expression flattened. "Too far."

I rocked onto my back hooves. "'Kay."

"There's a…" She glanced at me. "…rumor going around. You know about our policy with relationships among team members?"

I winced. "Ouch, did Silver Lining and Misty Fly finally get caught?"

Spitfire clapped her hooves in front of her face and rested her chin on them. She said, pointedly, "Yes, but we haven't taken any action on it. Things have been weird enough as it is. No, the teams are saying that Streak and I are seeing each other, which, as you know, could be construed as a conflict of interests."

I sneered. "Jeez, they're probably just trying to take you down." I flared out my wings and looked directly at her. "Don't worry. I don't believe it."

She rolled her eyes and flatly added, "Well, you should, since it's true."

I felt like I'd taken a mallet to the side of my head. "Whobittywhatabuh?" My jaw hung open.

Spitfire reached for her sunglasses, but then she paused and put her hoof back down. "Nothing serious yet. It's only been a couple weeks."

My eyes felt like they were being held open. "Gubadahuh?"

"Exactly." Her hoof looked like it was shaking just slightly, and she had a little trouble looking at me, but she maintained a steady voice. "It started a few days after his first show, once he'd gotten a feel for everything and figured out what it all really meant to him. He's been great to talk with, and even if he's still a little jumpy sometimes, his heart's in the right place."

"Whuthuh… Okay. Okay okay." I blinked a couple time. "Okay, but… why Streak?"

She threw her head back. "Ha! With the way you two are, I'm surprised you haven't made a move on him yourself." She snickered and pointed a hoof at me. "I mean, you'd give him a try, right?"

I paused, thought about it, paused some more, thought way too hard about it, started picturing… stuff, then slowly nodded and let out a high-pitched, creaky, "Mmyeh. Probably."

"See?" she said, waving a hoof. "That's all. I just wanted you to know." No armor. Her guard was down.

And so was mine, and that was okay. "Thanks, Spitfire. For, like, everything." I started picturing them together, and I felt giddy, like back in elementary school when you found out that two of the teachers were secretly dating. Then I started imagining everything they could do together as co-captains, and my heart warmed. "You two will be great."

She took a deep breath and smiled. "Thanks, and you're welcome, Soarin'." She leaned back in her chair again. "Heh. But if you ever cost me my job, I won't forgive you."

I smiled back. "Wouldn't have it any other way." I turned to leave, but a thought stopped me. "Oh, and hey? I know you probably won't want to come, but…"

Spitfire perked up. "Yeah?"

"We're, uh…" Spitfire never came to the parties. They always made her uncomfortable, and the words felt awkward in my mouth. "We're having a party at my place on Friday. Just to, like, welcome Braeburn and introduce him to everypony, and…" I stopped and looked at her, at a pony that was like a big sister to me, and it became a little easier. "And I'd really like you to be there." The room felt warm, and I added, "I mean, if you don't wanna–"

"I'll be there." Her eyes had lit up.

It was… weird, but I liked it. "Great!" I turned around again. "I gotta get back to Braeburn. Should I let Streak know you told me about you two?"

She chuckled. "Yeah, go ahead. And rub it in a little; he deserves it. He fired me fourteen times yesterday." Her voice took on that strong, captain-y quality again as she took some paperwork out of her desk. "Now get back to your coltfriend, and I'll see you bright and early tomorrow."

I saluted. "Yes, ma'am!"

As I left, I realized that, for the second time that day, my family had gotten a little bigger.

* * * * *

I nibble on my falafel. It's too hot to pop into my mouth, but Soarin' digs right in. Good thing he didn't have jaw problems after the accident. Once he's nearly done chewing, I say, "It sounds like Spitfire was doing pretty well. And… sorry, but I'm curious: are they still together?"

Soarin' swallows. "Oh yeah. Totally. Bottom Line was pretty pissed, but those two are professionals. I mean, I'd never admit that Fire Streak's done a better job with the team than I have, but I do still go to their shows, and no, them being together hasn't hurt the performances at all."

My chest feels warm. "I'm glad you still keep up with them."

He swallows another bite. "Totally. They're the only family I've got, Syn. They even had me over on the solstice for a big meal."

He didn't say "us."

Soarin' stuffs another falafel into his mouth and says, "But tha wuh later."

* * * * *

I got back to Streak's office right as Streak stepped into the hallway. "Oh, hey! I was just going to come find you. How did…" I couldn't help but smile and narrow my eyes, and Streak frowned a little. "What is it, bro?"

I showed a few teeth. "You dog."

Streak blinked, then half-frowned, half-sneered. "Aw, dammit! I wanted to tell you!" He cast a smile and a half-lidded stare at Spitfire's door. "She is so fired for this."

I punched his shoulder. "It's cool, Streak. You think it's gonna be a thing?"

He looked back at me and shrugged. "Dunno. Honestly, I think she needs a good friend more than a coltfriend. We've spent most of our time together just talking about stuff."

I raised an eyebrow. "So… no sex yet?"

I half-expected a snappy response, but Streak's voice was still low and calm. "No, not yet. Maybe not for a while, even. We've both been through a lot lately, and we'd rather have somepony that just understands, you know?" He grinned. "And some of us know how to take things slowly."

There it was. Good ol' Streak.

I chuckled. "Heh heh. Long as you don't slow down at the shows."

"Never. And that means keeping the team in top shape, too." He hopped into the air and saluted. "Got to go, Number One-and-a-Half. Glad to have you back." I said goodbye, and he zoomed off.

We're all very lucky to have him.

When I opened the door to Streak's office, Braeburn was staring out the window. He turned to me with a bright "You ready?"

I smiled. "Yeah."

We may not have been able to go out and get wasted and party all night, but we did have to celebrate, and there was one place I knew Braeburn would love. It was downtown, but it would be worth the risk. We found Eagle Eye again and slipped away to the north side of the Academy, where a covered sky taxi was waiting for us. Eagle Eye got in first, and I asked, "You got assigned to babysit?"

He shrugged from inside. "Well, I've been with you so far, so they figured I might as well keep going. It's not like we really scheduled your visit."

Two pegasus mares pulled us, and we spent the fifteen-minute ride talking to Eagle Eye. He didn't say anything I didn't already know: what it was like being in the reserves, how exciting and stressful it was watching the shows from the sidelines… Braeburn loved getting another perspective on the Wonderbolts, though, so he didn't notice that we'd made it downtown and were parked by the curb.

Eagle Eye got out of the carriage, did a quick sweep of the street, and then disappeared inside a small building with big windows.

Braeburn peeked through the velvet curtains to see where we'd landed. "Bad Sun Rising? Oh! This is your favorite restaurant, right? Huh… That logo almost looks like Celestia…"

I beamed. He was in for a treat.

Eagle Eye gave us the all-clear and escorted us from the busy, dirty street into the restaurant. "Lunch rush looks like it's over. I've already asked the other patrons to give you space."

We stepped out of the taxi. "Aw, hope ya' weren't too rude!" Braeburn said. "Wouldn't want to spoil their meal."

That earth pony of mine… Even after being swarmed by the crowds outside the Academy, he still cared about strangers' happiness.

We walked past the hostess' podium and sat down at a booth – my booth – where the early afternoon sunlight rested on the brim of Braeburn's hat. Eagle Eye sat at a table nearby, but I was focused on Braeburn. He looked curiously around at the old, hoof-painted art and the red and gold décor that made the Bad Sun look like a retro diner from downtown Manehattan, though this place had a much higher ceiling. Soft music played from an auto-magic piano in the corner, and sitting there in the slightly stuffy air made me want to just grab a coffee and pony-watch out the window for hours.

After a few seconds, Braeburn lifted his nose and started sniffing. "What the…" It was a sweet and spicy and creamy smell, one that was incredibly complex and foreign. I hadn't been able to read the specials board as we'd walked past it, but I knew what the smell was.

Then Braeburn's eyes caught something behind me, and he smiled as a familiar female voice spoke up. "Been a few weeks, Sugar. I was worried you were gone for good." She stepped up to the table and looked as radiant as ever.

Holli. Creamy coat, egg-yolk-colored mane and tail. Half-lidded eyes and a slight lilt to her voice. Soft, smooth feathers and a body with curves that could raise more than just eyebrows. She wore a simple, pink apron with deep pockets, which held a few quills and notepads. The thing I noticed the most though? The comfortable feeling I got from being around her, the kind you only get from somepony with a gentle heart. "And you must be Braeburn," she said with a slight bow of her head. "Welcome to Cloudsdale. Hope you've liked it so far."

Braeburn tipped his hat. "Thank ya' kindly, ma'am." He wore a smile that strained to grow larger. "You must be Miss Holli, right? Pleasure to make your acquaintance. Cloudsdale's been pretty great so far, and Soarin's told me a bunch about this place. Got pretty high expectations."

"Well, we'll try to live up to them." She glanced around the diner, no doubt making sure her other customers weren't waiting for her, before leaning in. "So what are you two up to today? Touring the city? Need some recommendations?"

Braeburn took a deep breath and leaned back into the seat. "Honestly? I'm likin' this place quite a bit. Maybe you've seen the papers. We've been runnin' around all over Equestria, and I'll be darned if my first day up here hasn't already been eventful enough." He looked around. "This place, though? It's quiet. It's got some of the finest smells I can imagine, too, and there's plenty of space. Reminds me of my aunt's house. Reminds me of home." His eyes found Holli again. "And if the food's half as nice as the waitress, well, I imagine I'll be a frequent patron."

Holli let out a small laugh. Her butt wiggled just slightly, and her tail swished back and forth. "Oh, you're just an angel. It'll be my pleasure to serve you." With a coy smile, she turned to me. "Sugar, it took you long enough, but I think you finally found a pony worth keeping."

I turned to see Braeburn's cheeks glowing. "Definitely."

Holli stood up straighter and took a notepad and quill from her apron. "I'm curious about why today's been so eventful for you, but I won't keep you waiting any longer. What would you two cuties like?" She sat down so she could write more easily, then started with me. "How about you, Sugar? If you're feeling adventurous–"

I held up a hoof. "I really, really just want the usual, babe." I smiled and winked. "I'll even pay for it this ti–"

I startled, my eyes open wide.

Braeburn sat up straighter, and his ears swiveled towards me. "What's wrong? You okay, Big Blue?"

"I…" My ears flattened against my head. "…Fuck."

The corners of Braeburn's eyes turned downward, and he reached a hoof for mine. He spoke softly. "What?"

Holli snickered. "I might have a guess."

I sighed and slapped a hoof to my face. "I totally forgot to grab my check from Bottom Line again."

Braeburn snorted a laugh and slapped at my hoof. "Aw, dammit. You goof!"

When I looked up, they were both smiling at me, and Holli was shaking her head. "Don't worry about it, Soarin'. Worse comes to worst, I know where you live." She winked at me, then jotted down my order. For Braeburn's benefit, she said, "So that'll be a garden wrap and a rosewater shake." She looked up again and brushed the tip of her quill's feather against Braeburn's nose. "And how about for you, cutie? Same?"

Braeburn tilted his head back and took another long sniff of the air. "Nah, I gotta try whatever's givin' off that spicy smell. It's downright enchantin'!"

Holli's chest puffed out a little. "That'd be our special, cutie. Tweaked the recipe myself. Neighpalese curry with imported spices and herbs grown right here in Cloudsdale."

Braeburn stuck out his lower lip. "Fresh herbs? How'd you manage that? Reckon there's not a lot of fertile ground up here."

Holli nodded and gestured out the window. "There's a stretch of cloud over in Longfilly – one of the neighborhoods up here – with a big sort of greenhouse. Uses dirt from the soil down south. It's a big collective that a bunch of the restaurants up here invest in." She winked. "And the manager's an earth pony. He oversees everything. Promise."

Braeburn smiled and nodded. "Well, it sounds mighty tasty! I'll try that, please, along with one of those rosewater shakes."

Holli flipped her notepad closed. "You got it, colts. Shakes'll be out soon." She trotted away, hips swaying just slightly.

I looked back at Braeburn. He was staring at Holli and straining not to laugh. I asked, in a quiet voice, "Whaaaaat?"

He started chuckling to himself. It was a mix of a high-pitched giggle and a low rumble in his strong, muscular chest, and he covered his mouth with a fetlock to try and contain it. His eyes squinted tight as he turned his head. That little earth pony couldn't hold it in forever, though, and his laughter grew louder. His body shook, and suddenly, it all burst out of him in a loud, open-mouthed roar of joy. He threw his head back, laughing and laughing and holding his stomach to contain all that energy. He was full of life, full of happiness. And when he finally settled down, he looked right at me with those beautiful, watery eyes, breathing hard and still snickering, and I felt at peace.

It was just like I'd imagined.

Braeburn wiped a tear from his eye. "Sorry, just – hoo! – just picturin'… Heh heh. Well, it really ain't appropriate."

"What are… Oh, no." I blushed and covered my mouth with a hoof. He was remembering what I'd told him on the train ride out of Appleloosa: that I'd growled Braeburn's name while plowing Holli back at my place.

"Eeyup! Don't know if I've ever turned anypony gay, but that might be pretty close. I'm, uh…" He scratched his chin. "…little curious, though: which feels better?"

I laughed and flashed a grin. "What, you mean, like, to have sex with?"

He smirked as he rocked his head back and forth while making circles with his eyes. "Well, yeah. You've had it both ways. Which feels better?" He narrowed his eyes. "Or maybe you just like bein' the mare."

My neck tightened, and I looked out the window. "I dunno. I mean, mares…" I trailed off.

"Careful how you answer, slick." He was leaning in with his head turned to the side.

Ponies milled around outside. A group was waiting at the bus stop down the block, a few were window shopping, and a couple bored-looking taxi drivers made small talk while they waited for customers. The tall buildings across the street kept me from getting a great view of the city or the outskirts, but even in the middle of the day, the city felt like it was alive, just waiting for us to take in.

My head felt clear, and I sighed. "They're just… different, I guess. They both feel great, but I think…" I turned back to Braeburn and put a hoof on his. I flinched a little and looked down, trying to hide a smile. "That stuff… doesn't feel so important anymore. I mean, yeah, you definitely know how to please me, but it's a lot better than just the sex, you know? Like, it just feels better when it's with you. All over." I touched my chest with my other hoof. "In here." I looked up at him. His eyes were sparkling. "Right?"

With his free hoof, he gently took his hat off and set it on the table. "Heh." A smile had spread across his face, and he looked back up at me. "I am so Celestia-damned lucky you bumped into my cart, Big Blue."

We leaned in and kissed across the table. When I pulled away, I said, "I am, too."

We chatted until the food came. Mine was exactly what I'd wanted: a simple, fresh wrap and a shake. Braeburn stared at the orange-yellow broth in the white bowl in front of him. "Wow! That's about the most vibrant soup I've ever seen!" He leaned in and sniffed it while Holli stared at him, carefully gauging his reaction. "Smells even better up close."

Cautiously, Braeburn lifted his spoon.

He dipped it in, scooping up a potato chunk with the curry.

He lifted it to his lips.

He blew on it once.

Holli held her breath.

Braeburn opened his mouth, then closed it around the food.

Holli leaned in closer. I could hear the muffled conversations outside through the glass window.

Finally, spoon in his mouth, Braeburn paused, eyes wide.

"Mm!" His worked the curry around his mouth. "Mm!" His head dove down closer to the bowl, and on the second spoonful, he worked like a machine. He rolled his tongue around his mouth, his face scrunched up. He'd cock an eyebrow, chew, turn his head, lick at his molars, turn his head again… He made about a dozen faces, and it all ended with him nodding his head and staring at nothing, deep in thought.

"I could make this. I gotta make this!" He looked up at Holli with a smile. "Yummy!"

Holli let out her breath. "Not too shabby, is it?"

Braeburn perked up. "Oh, most certainly not! This is mighty delicious, Miss Holli." His smacked his lips. "Hoo, spicy, but wow! I gotta try makin' this sometime." He looked sheepishly up at Holli. "Though I wouldn't presume you'd give out the recipe."

Holli chuckled. "I'll see what I can do. Maybe we can trade sometime."

We invited Holli to sit with us, but she had to take care of her other tables. She did, however, volunteer to let Braeburn try life on the straight side for himself in case he was curious. He politely declined: he said that he really preferred stallions and that if he wanted a mare, he could make one out of me. It made me feel warm and fuzzy, bizarrely, even if Holli still teases me about it to this day.

We finished our meal, we paid (I did still have a few bits on me), and Eagle Eye cleared the way for us. As we left the restaurant, I invited Holli to the party.

Holli beamed at us. "I'd love to come! Sign me up for an appetizer, and I'll be sure to bring that curry recipe over. Would you like any help getting set up? I'm off this Friday."

Braeburn nodded at Holli. "Well, if it's alright, I'd love the help." He looked at me. "That alright, Soarin'?"

I nuzzled his cheek with mine. "It's your house, too, babe."

He shivered a little. "Heh heh. Well, then, sure!" He tipped his hat at her again. "That'd be spectacular. I'll certainly need some help findin' my way around town for a while."

"Sounds like you could use a daytime escort," Holli said with a purr. "How about I swing by after work one of these days? I might be able to get you into that greenhouse with the herbs. And don't worry, Soarin', I'll keep my hooves off. Promise."

With a devilish grin, I wrapped a wing around Braeburn, who let out a small "eep!" as I pulled him close to me. I glared at Holli. "Mine."

Braeburn laughed, said, "Eeyup!" and kissed me on the cheek.

We finished our goodbyes, then headed out into the street. We'd managed to not get tailed by any fans, so the flight back home was quick.

Once we'd gotten back, we dismissed Eagle Eye and the taxi, and he said he'd be back at sunrise. Braeburn offered to make him breakfast – sweet Luna that pony is amazing – but Eagle Eye declined. "Professionalism." He left after a quick salute.

And… that was it. That was our day. We were at home. Our home. Together. Safe and sound, knowing that we had good friends – good family – that had our back. Our house was full of a gentle stillness. The air was a little stuffy, but in a good way, a way that made our lungs feel full and our day complete.

We slouched down on the couch in the parlor and sighed. For a while, it was quiet, a good quiet, and before long, Braeburn was in my forelegs, and I was petting him and kissing the top of his head. "Big day."

His chest rose and fell. We were breathing together to the same rhythm. "Eeyup. Good, though, overall."

"Eeyup." I brought his chin up so we were looking at each other. "And there's a lot more ahead, right?'

He smiled, and his eyes became unfocused, dreamy. He was imagining them. "Eeyup."

And we shared a long, long kiss.