“Spike,” Rarity addressed the young volunteer currently holding a number of her supplies from ribbons and lace to sequins and thread.

Spike needed no addressing. The beautiful unicorn had his whole and undivided attention from the moment she answered his knock at the door. “Yes, Rarity?” the little dragon responded eagerly, happy to hear her speak his name and to speak hers in return.

Something broke Rarity's train of thought; what item she'd meant to ask for completely fled conscious thought as she turned her head to look at the youngster and saw the all too familiar look of adoration on his face. Adoration. His adoration for her. Sweetie's adoration for Fluttershy. A flood of information that Rarity had, with difficulty, attempted to process, revelations she loathed to fully comprehend, overwhelmed her for the hundredth time.

“I—” She halted, and, when she couldn't remember what she wanted, she looked back at her work. Ribbon was called for. She sighed. “Never mind, Spike,” Rarity changed her mind. It wasn't the first time that hour she'd found herself lost. She'd had enough difficulty concentrating on work the past several days without Spike's presence triggering bizarre thoughts and unpleasant memories of the conversation she'd had with her friends and sister.

She could send the scaly youth away. Though it didn't seem fair to him, she still might have done it but for the fact that he'd seemed so much more eager than usual to see her today after his unusual absence the last week. To send him away so early might have hurt his feelings unnecessarily. It wasn't his fault things had gotten so complicated recently, after all.

“Would you join me for a spot of tea? I think I need a break,” Rarity invited.

“Of course!” Spike was never more enthusiastic about tea than when it was with Rarity. “Would you like me to help you boil the water?”

Rarity thought a moment. “Not today, Spikey. I'd appreciate it if you let me take care of it alone this time,” she responded apologetically.

“Oh. Okay.” The little dragon looked and sounded somewhat disappointed, but was comforted by her reassuring smile.

In the kitchen, Spike sat at the table in the nook used for most of Rarity's and Sweetie Belle's meals and watched the unicorn with a far off look in his eyes. Rarity did her best to ignore him and, setting to work, tried to clear her head. Tea was simple, yet it took time. After filling the kettle, placing it on the stove, and turning up the flame, all that was left was to wait. It was a welcome pause, one that Rarity hoped might let her move past the turmoil Spike's presence brought so that she could return to work.

Rarity thought for the hundredth time about Sweetie Belle's shocking foray into sexual intimacy, how forward the filly admitted to being. She thought about Fluttershy's even more shocking, frightening lapse of control, about the mare's confession of love to a mere school filly, about the kiss the two had shared so shamelessly right in front of her before Fluttershy became aware of her discomfort.

She could understand why Sweetie might not have quite the same sort of shame for sex as an adult would. Normally she shouldn't need it at all. Adults were meant to protect fillies her age from the sordid truth. Their parents hadn't explained intercourse to Rarity in any detail until she began to talk about moving out and living on her own. Granted, that may have been a bit late, thought Rarity, but wasn't it normal for good parents and foals to be a bit shy about that sort of topic with each other?

Maybe, she thought.

Rarity had, with difficulty the past several days, come to grips with Fluttershy's illness. Though she wished it hadn't, knowing the shy pony's proclivity changed the way she looked at the peaceful pegasus drastically, she feared permanently. Truth be told, Rarity had always suspected Fluttershy might have more reason to be silent than typical shyness. Fluttershy wasn't ever really the typically shy pony, after all. Still, she'd never allowed herself to think of her friend as hiding something so shameful. She hated now to think of her as the secret, dangerously out-of-control pervert that she recently admitted to being.

Were there others the mare had molested? Rarity's stomach twisted and turned every time the question crossed her mind. She wished she'd asked before leaving Twilight's library that day, but, really, if the answer had been anything but no, she didn't know what she'd have done to cope with the added layer of shock. As it was, she'd needed to bathe herself several times just to cleanse the horrible dirtiness she felt for not insisting firmly upon the relationship's suspension until Sweetie was grown, proof or not of her little sister's love.

At least, Rarity thought, with Twilight's reassurance, she had some reason to believe not all was lost—her sister's purity and her friends' honor. She'd been desperate to take whatever she could get back in the loft, but worried frequently whether, perhaps, Twilight and she, by extension, were deluding themselves about the nature of the shield. Could a spell ever so quickly just filter out true love? Maybe Twilight overestimated her own understanding. It happened to the best of them. Magical proof aside, was true love really reason enough to allow them to be close before Sweetie matured when, instead, they could wait and be safe within the law?

Then there was Spike. Rarity tensed suddenly, remembering that he was behind her, almost definitely watching her with the same smitten expression he'd had since he came with Twilight to Ponyville. Back then—oh, back then. Rarity felt a sudden longing to return to “back then”—back then, things had been so much simpler. It had been so much easier to ignore his adoration, even put it off when he meant to confess. Now, though, little fillies and young drakes weren't just innocently crushing, they seemed to be actively seeking romance and intimacy in all of its fearsome sordid passion. It felt wrong that they, little fillies, colts, Spike, should ever be put at such risk as to be considered fully sexual beings themselves. It felt even worse to think that any foal, that Spike, regardless of the risk involved in entertaining them, might have sexual feelings deserving of her, Rarity's, validation.

What Sweetie had read replayed in Rarity's mind.

“Rarity, I feel like Fluttershy is my destiny as much as any special talent will be ... and to keep me from that destiny, well ... you know how much that will hurt, but, if you let us be together, you know how happy it can make me and Fluttershy both.”

The fact that everypony was born with genitalia was supposed to mean they had potential, not that they were, in fact, capable of immediately wanting or fully enjoying what hormones must later drive them to seek out. The very notion that a foal should be led to more than curiosity, admiring her mentor, some simple private exploration of herself, and, maybe, some experimentation with a similar-age peer was uncomfortable, yet here was such a situation, plain in front of Rarity to see, in her beloved little sister no less ... and, potentially, though she'd never initiate it herself, Spike.

Rarity didn't want to condemn her sister's natural if unusual inclination to desire Fluttershy so ardently, but to support it, as her friends asked her to, was simply too much. If she did support such a relationship at such a young age—Celestia forbid!—wouldn't that mean that Spike, too, was entitled to some form of recognition for his desires, be it letting him down or giving him hope for the future? She certainly hadn't considered him seriously as a prospect for any sort of romantic relationship, but should she? And could she lose him as the family member he had become, eventually, either way?

Just as bad, maybe worse than the prospect of openly acknowledging Spike's feelings for her, Rarity dreaded that she might be guilty of leading him on in a way she'd never wanted to consider possible. No, she thought. Whether or not his feelings were similar to Sweetie Belle's, Spike was never taught nor led as Sweetie had been recently to raise any hope for that recognition. That had to mean he must not be as vulnerable as Sweetie now was, that he couldn't be hurt quite so badly by her dismissal, right?

Thoughts of her own foalhood crushes gave her confidence that she was innocent with respect to Spike. In foalish innocence, Rarity herself had been infatuated with an uncle, the rare family friend, even her grade school teacher, Ms. Play Write, for as long as a year before moving on to others. They'd never responded beyond giving her attention and treating her special in completely non-romantic ways, and she'd turned out fine. Rarity did the same for Spike, and, certainly, thought Rarity, he must eventually move on like she did, like anypony would eventually, even an adult.

She paused at the thought of “adult,” worried by the parallel.

In any case, thought Rarity, she mustn't blame herself for any potential hurt feelings over the course of the past year. Whether or not Spike hoped for her to reciprocate romantically and were capable of understanding mature courtship, Rarity herself had always been taught not to consider a prepubescent pony—in this case, dragon—capable of fully understanding and appreciating that kind of love. She couldn't have known that she was leading him on cruelly, could she? What was her accountability now, in light of what she knew about Sweetie Belle?

Experience hadn't taught her to think of foals that way, had it? She certainly couldn't have handled true love and lifelong commitment so young herself. If it were possible for a foal and an adult to have a fulfilling marriage, it must be an extraordinary, improbable exception. The chances of her sister and Fluttershy making it together must be astronomical.

She reasoned and fought against the guilt her friends had so thoughtlessly thrust upon her, yet a nagging doubt followed each conclusion. Would Rarity really have been incapable of a fulfilling foalhood marriage with the right partner? Would that really be so extraordinary in some other place or at some other time without prejudice? Were Sweetie Belle and Fluttershy really better off waiting and conforming? Was it really okay for Rarity to take Spike's feelings so lightly? Was the young admirer really safe from the magnitude of pain she feared she might be causing him, just because puberty hadn't yet begun to change him? Were foals really all that dissimilar to adults? Rarity fretted. Had her parents' typical shy avoidance really done her and Sweetie any good?

... Probably, she thought.

“Maybe” and “probably” weren't good enough while her sister and dear friend's happiness was on the line. Despite trying, she couldn't convince herself what she thought was right, and, whether or not she were correct, knowing that things weren't going to be easy either way only made her feel worse.

The kettle began to whistle.

Sighing, Rarity extinguished the flame. Without an excuse to avoid facing Spike, she turned and finally set the table, adding a pouch of chamomile and lavender to her own cup. “What type can I get for you, Spike?” Rarity offered warmly.

“Mmm,” Spike thought, “peppermint, if you have any, or just whatever you're having.” Rarity obliged with a pouch of shredded peppermint leaves, then levitated the hot kettle to fill their cups and finally take her seat across from Spike. “Thank you, Rarity!” Spike responded brightly.

“You're welcome, Spike.” Rarity answered politely, somewhat somberly.

An uncomfortable silence settled between them as they waited for their herbs to steep. The mare's usual aloof composure was gone as she stared down anxiously at her cup, watching the color of the herbs slowly diffuse from the bag.

“Soo,” Spike broached awkwardly, “It's been a while since I got to help out around here.”

Rarity nodded uncomfortably. “Y-yes. So it has.”

Another pause.

“I'd have been by sooner, but ... um ... eheh!” he laughed nervously. In his eagerness to strike up a conversation, the dragon realized a little too late that his reason for staying away wasn't something he could talk about, whether or not Rarity now seemed to be a part of it all.

Though he still didn't quite understand what was going on, it seemed unlikely the beautiful mare would want to talk about it anyway. “W-well, I couldn't come by sooner because,” he stumbled on anyway, “I've ... been, uhh ...” She'd probably know if he lied, Spike thought, and he didn't want to fib to her anyway. An awkward moment passed and the mare looked at him with knowing concern. “N—nevermind,” he gave up. Stupid! he chided himself.

Silence settled again and the two looked away from each other.

“It's been ... busy, I suppose,” Rarity eventually finished, giving him an out, for which Spike was grateful. “How have you and Twilight been recently?”

In spite of herself, Rarity looked back at him. He met her gaze, hopeful that the conversation might not turn out to be a complete wreck. “Oh, Twilight? She's been alright, just up to the usual since we all wound up at the castle together.” Then had been the last time Rarity and Fluttershy had spent time together alone before the shocking truth about her and Sweetie had been revealed, just a day after the appearance of the box. “... mostly reading,” Spike continued. “I know she's been looking for something to help her figure out how the Tree of Harmony works, says it could help, even though she still can't find anything about that mysterious box ... and I've been alright too, just helping wherever I can.” Except at the boutique, he thought.

So much had happened, thought Rarity. Losing the elements and beginning a new quest, the graceful mare had handled just fine. She'd anticipated some bumps along the way in her friendships, but nothing had prepared her for the train wreck that started as a simple meeting meant to discuss the royal loft décor.

Rarity assessed her tea. Now that her brief time-out from Spike was over, she wondered whether this had been such a good idea. At least she wouldn't wind up messing up her dresses, she thought. Deciding it had been long enough, she removed both pouches telekinetically from each cup. “Sugar, Dear?” Rarity offered as she stirred in a few spoonfuls with her own tea.

“Definitely.” Spike grinned, taking the container and adding three heaping spoonfuls to his tea.

“Milk?” Rarity offered again after pouring some into her own.

“Mm ... no thanks,” Spike decided.

Rather than stir again, Rarity watched the white liquid churn in the heat and leftover turbulence of her previous stirring. It looked something like she felt. Spike, immune to the heat, began to sip his tea. Rarity took hers once the milk and water had combined fully, the cold milk putting it at just the right temperature for her. To Rarity's relief, the chamomile and lavender quickly had the desired effect. The tension in her mind and body eased.

Spike, watching her as usual, seemed, instinctively, to relax with her. “Spike,” Rarity looked and spoke softly but seriously to the little reptile.

“Yes, Rarity?”

“Do you really enjoy helping me?”

Spike looked into her tender gaze, almost hypnotized. “More than anything,” he admitted.

“Wouldn't you rather find others your age to play with in your spare time than do chores here or help me work?” Rarity asked, unsurprised by his answer, but still hopeful she might see another side to him than the one she knew was obsessed with her.

Spike knew his answer right away, but considered for a moment why she might be asking. Rarity had never complained before about his presence at the boutique, and right now she didn't seem unhappy with him, but something about the way she asked told Spike she wished he weren't so eager.

“Well,” Spike began, “I'm not really into the whole crusading thing, and I'm homeschooled, sort of, you know? So I guess, I just ... know more grown-ups, but,” his ear fins drooped, and he looked worried, “if you think I shouldn't come around as much ...”

“No-no, Precious. That's not at all what I meant,” Rarity reassured. “You're welcome here any time, Spikey-poo.”

Spike looked down, assessing whether or not she actually meant it. She sounded sincere, he decided, and the realization brought a smile back to his face. “Well then, why'd you ask?” he inquired.

Rarity looked uncomfortable again for a moment, but, sipping her tea, remained collected. “Because, well ... I just wouldn't want you to have any regrets, I suppose,” she answered.

“Regrets?” Spike was a little surprised. “I'd never regret watching the most beautiful and talented fashion pony in Equestria work,” Spike flattered.

“That's sweet of you to say, Spike. Thank you.” Rarity smiled graciously, used to hearing praise from the little dragon, but grateful just the same.

“Any time. Just my honest opinion.” He beamed.

Rarity sipped again at her tea. “Remind me, Dear. Do you have any hobbies of your own? Anything else you like to do in your spare time?” Rarity thought about what she'd known the little dragon to do on his own or talk about other than her work, but couldn't seem to recall anything beyond cleaning and cooking.

Spike considered his answer. “I like reading comic books a lot, and regular books too, I guess, and cooking. ... Lets me put my dragon breath to good use sometimes, and I get to share the snacks I make with, well, all of you.” Spike grinned happily. Why Rarity had decided to ask him about himself, he wasn't sure, but it felt good that she seemed interested in him.

Rarity pondered. Spike seemed to have a life outside of her, but she didn't see much of it. There had been his recent ambition to pet-sit and make himself that extravagant cake. A little further back still, on the one day off that he didn't spend helping at the boutique, he'd wound up with a life debt to Applejack, doing whatever menial thing the mare asked, despite the farm pony's discomfort with it.

He cooked for others. He read, at least partly, Rarity guessed, what Twilight gave him to read. The rest of the time he served others, whether willingly or as part of his Dragon Code. The only exception she could think of was his quest during the dragon migration. Thankfully, he hadn't fit in with that bunch. There was his birthday fiasco too, she remembered, which had gone much worse than his quest for self-discovery. Maybe good dragons were meant to stay focused on others, never themselves, or the consequences would be more dire than they were with ponies. Something seemed off about that theory to Rarity, however.

In any case, what did it say about her friendship with him? Was it okay that she let him serve her, like he seemed to want to, without reciprocating any of his romantic interest in her? He was just a baby, according to Twilight, anyway. Service aside, nopony should be looking for romance with somebody so young, yet, again, Rarity asked herself whether she was being irresponsible by not telling him “no,” or, at least, “not yet.” Her concern grew again and weighed on her brow.

“Rarity?” Spike called to the pony. She snapped back, shaking her head clear. “Are you okay?” Spike asked.

Rarity sighed, muddled and uncertain about what to do. She really needed to work, but she still felt bad sending Spike away now, not only because it might hurt his feelings, but also because, she realized, finding answers to her questions about him, about Sweetie, was something she couldn't avoid any longer. “I'm fine, Dear,” Rarity answered, “just feeling a bit ... distracted.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Spike asked.

“No.” If only, she thought. “I just thought that it's about time I took care of some things,” Rarity resolved. In doing so, suddenly, she felt her burden lighten. No matter the outcome, she'd do her best to find the answers she didn't have. She might not know where to start looking, but she knew somepony willing to help. “As soon as we finish here, Darling, I think I'll feel up to working some more, if you'd like to continue lending me a claw.”

Needing no enticing, Spike nodded eagerly.

Sweetie offered no update to the Crusaders on her relationship during their meeting the day after her big reveal to Rarity. Finding it unusual and sensing something off, Apple Bloom looked for an answer to why. Sweetie's expression had sagged at the question of how things were going with her and her special somepony, and her friends had been troubled by the news, “Not too great.”

“Whad'ya mean, 'Not too great?' This whole past week ye've been goin' on about those love letters.” Apple Bloom's brow furrowed. Scootaloo matched the Apple foal's expression despite normally being the one to end their much lengthier conversations about mushy topics.

“I mean ... we're still together, kind of, but we have to spend some time apart,” Sweetie answered, “and there's no way to really tell how long before we see each other again or can even write to each other.”

Sweetie and Fluttershy had made plans through their prior correspondences to discontinue writing secretly in the likely case that Rarity decided to restrict their contact. It wouldn't do, after the trouble of exposing their secrets to her, to then continue going behind the elder unicorn's back. The only exception was in case of some dire emergency that couldn't be resolved by going to Twilight or somepony else. Fluttershy would leave such an emergency message in one of the usual hiding places for Sweetie to find, and Sweetie would risk mailing Fluttershy a blank page by normal post to signal that she'd be leaving an actual message for Fluttershy, again at one of the usual locations.

“Can you tell us why?” Scootaloo prompted when Sweetie Belle didn't elaborate.

“I ... I shouldn't,” Sweetie responded.

“It's not somethin' to do with Applejack, is it?” Apple Bloom asked anxiously.

“No. It has nothing to do with Applejack,” Sweetie answered then sighed. “I don't feel like talking about it anymore right now,” she preempted any further questioning. Sweetie regretted not being able to say more without exposing sensitive information. It was better that nopony, even her friends, knew that Rarity had been informed, to prevent further complications.

Reluctantly, Apple Bloom and Scootaloo respected her wish, but it didn't help at all to take Sweetie's mind off of the mare she couldn't be with.

Meanwhile, the melancholy filly tried her best not to burden her friends the rest of that day and others afterward as they crusaded together. Unfortunately, trying not to worry her friends meant smiling. Even a simple smile felt like neglect to Sweetie, ignoring the pain she felt her beloved must be in, that she herself was in, not knowing when they'd reunite.

Each time the filly forced the corners of her mouth upward, quiet sorrow filled her at the small betrayal, and made her want to hide herself. The moments her smile came naturally only felt worse once her worries, momentarily forgotten, returned and made her want to cry. What worthy fiancée could allow herself to be so thoughtless, to be happy at a time like this?

The emotional tug-of-war—keeping up her facade while feeling the opposite of what she showed day by day—exhausted Sweetie Belle. Soon, rather than not want to spend time with her friends, the little filly reluctantly admitted to herself, she actually dreaded crusading.

Only five days passed from the time Sweetie had been forbidden to make contact with Fluttershy, and the little filly could no longer force herself to appear “alright.” Apple Bloom and Scootaloo seemed at a loss for what to do as they tried and failed to cheer their friend. “I'd ... just like to stay behind at the clubhouse today ... if you girls don't mind.” Sweetie labored to make it through the request, feeling worse for causing her best friends to worry about her more than they clearly already did. “I just don't feel up to crusading today, and I'd rather not go home.”

Never mind that she hadn't felt up to crusading the other four days. Sweetie knew that going to either her parents' or Rarity's meant she'd either have to try and keep smiling or wind up confining herself to her room to avoid being seen by customers of the boutique, and she'd spent more than enough time there, already.

“Are ya sure?” Apple Bloom looked at her with a deerstalker cap on her head, ready for an afternoon of clue-finding and mystery solving in an attempt to earn a sleuth cutie mark.

Sweetie Belle nodded. Going out with the crusaders, beyond killing her friends' fun when she failed to keep her spirits up, Sweetie worried, posed the same risk of raising concern for her out in public as staying at the boutique.

“We can go mystery hunting another day. You want us to stay with you?” Scootaloo matched the Earth filly next to her, frown and hat alike.

Sweetie considered the offer for a moment. “No, thanks. I actually brought my journal, and I think I'd just like some time alone, if that's alright.” Her friends just looked at her with the same worried expression her sister had the past several days, the one she'd wanted to avoid. With effort, Sweetie managed to put on a half-smile. “I'll be alright, really. I just need to think. You girls have fun, though. Please, don't worry about me,” Sweetie attempted to reassure her friends.

They didn't argue with her, but each offered her a hug before leaving.

There in the club house, Sweetie Belle took advantage of the calm and privacy to let herself feel sad without feeling self-conscious. Opening up the windows to let in the fresh orchard air and birdsong, she rested and journaled some. She contemplated everything that was happening and how much had changed.

How far she'd come and yet how similar things were to when she'd mixed up a love poison for her teacher less than a year ago. Back then, she'd known so little, and her eagerness had gotten the better of her and her friends. They'd learned an important lesson. Now, again, her eagerness had gotten the better of her, but the trouble she was in this time wasn't quite so simple to rectify. Throughout it all, she'd learned so much more than she ever imagined she might, and she'd felt so much more than she ever dreamed she could.

The next few days, Sweetie requested again to stay behind at the clubhouse. Again, her friends offered little argument, though their concern grew. When each afternoon was fully spent, the fillies returned home, but none more reluctantly than Sweetie Belle.

A week that felt like an eternity had passed, and either sister only spoke to the other about meals, the daily chores, and, per Rarity's request, when Sweetie left the boutique, she let her know where she'd be spending her time. The foal was compliant, respectful, helpful, appeared to be social with her peers, everything she'd always been, except, Rarity couldn't ignore, she hardly smiled, seemed less energetic, ate even less, and was quieter than ever—not that Rarity blamed her. She herself didn't feel capable of starting a conversation with her little sister as long as she remained so deeply conflicted about Sweetie's relationship with Fluttershy.

To avoid moping in her room, Sweetie had begun taking routine strolls around the block each evening after dishes. Despite the unlikeliness of finding a message, she continued to visit each mouse home with bits of apple, just in case. If nothing else, the ritual helped her feel closer to the mare who, despite living just on the edge of town, felt so far away.

The evening of the seventh day from the beginning of Sweetie's growing turmoil, Rarity made a request as Sweetie was about to go for her usual evening walk. “Do you mind if I join you tonight?”

“M-mm” Sweetie shook her head. It was fine, Sweetie thought. She wouldn't have found a letter anyway, and, as long as she didn't have to hide her feelings, she decided she didn't mind her big sister's presence.

There were still hours of daylight, but the lowering sun and gentle breeze made the sweltering heat from earlier that day more temperate. For several minutes the sisters walked quietly together. Rarity matched Sweetie's pace somewhat anxiously, her restlessness mixing poorly with the foal's short-legged, lethargic pace.

“It's certainly lovely outside at this hour,” Rarity finally broke the silence.

“Yeah,” Sweetie agreed, looking up to see Rarity looking down at her for the umpteenth time that week with the same concerned, thoughtful expression. Sweetie continued her walk with no further response.

The quaint neighborhood paths appeared empty except for the two sisters. Within the cozy thatched-roof homes, a few ponies appeared to be busy with their own business. Otherwise, the entire area felt almost abandoned, calm and private, like the clubhouse.

“I feel I need to apologize,” said Rarity. “I've taken longer than I know you'd have liked to think about ... everything.”

Sweetie Belle's gait slowed subtly, and the young filly looked up anxiously.

“You ... you needed the time.” Sweetie was uncharacteristically soft-spoken. Before she'd finished the sentence, she'd looked down at the ground, her ears folded. Rarity couldn't help but feel worse at the response.

“I'm still not sure about you dating her,” Rarity pressed on, her voice lowered momentarily to avoid being overheard, “but it's time, finally, that I listened to Twilight, I think.”

Sweetie's ears straightened, she looked up again, and she brightened a little, daring to hope.

“Maybe ...” Rarity's heart ached at the filly's sad, eager eyes, “maybe we should go see her to set up an appointment right now. What do you think?”

A week that felt like an eternity passed, and Angel Bunny had never been so miserable. His owner's inattentiveness to him and his fellow critters meant that, for more than half his meals, the white bunny waited impatiently well past due time while, other times, food seemed to appear for no real reason in his dish just ten minutes after he'd finished eating. Worse, some days, his winged caretaker slept clear through breakfast or retired to bed before dinner, and nothing he could do would rouse her. Four days of consistent failure to provide prompt meals had passed, and even Angel's most severe brow beating yielded no more reaction from the pegasus than a quiet sigh and a slow, dejected walk to her next chore. More than hunger, Angel hated the prickling feeling that seeing his owner in such a state produced.

If Twilight hadn't come to visit her daily, Angel would have gone to fetch the winged unicorn himself, yet even she seemed unable to pick Fluttershy up for long from out of her dire doldrums. At least, he thought, Twilight saw to it that his owner ate a full meal. It was better than he usually managed to make her do, even with his most persuasive threats or fluffy bunny cuddles and other charms. Instinct guided Angel to consider one more option to remedy the situation, though he dreaded it.

To his relief, a certain pink pony had recently avoided the cottage. To Angel's amusement, all it had taken had been for Fluttershy, desiring to be left in peace, to set out a surprisingly effective “Beware! Ghosts!” sign. Upon seeing the silly Nightmare Night decoration the first four times, Pinkie had screamed and run for town. About the fifth and sixth time, however, Pinkie Pie had become desperate enough to try and sneak past without attracting the dead's attention. Stepping on a stick or tripping on a rock, the paranoid pony only wound up running and screaming again, begging the unseen spirits not to tickle her cupcakes and leaving Angel to stare at the remaining dust cloud with a bemused expression.

Now, despite the recent reprieve from the pink pony's riotous romping about his residence, Angel concluded she was his only option. On the sixth day from the time that Fluttershy had begun to slip, having received only a single meal at her hooves the entire day, the noble bunny could tolerate the tree-dwelling treat-giver's torment no more. That evening, Angel caved to his completely selfless desire to help, stowed the bogus sign someplace Fluttershy wouldn't find it, and isolated himself as a protective measure against one very annoying but, hopefully, attitude-improving visit from Pinkamena Diane Pie.

The following morning, a pink mane followed by a light pink forehead then clear blue eyes slowly rose up over the edge of Fluttershy's mattress. Fluttershy lay sound asleep, a very unusual sight for the peeking pink party pony at that particular hour. “She looks so ... sleepy,” Pinkie observed in a whisper to Gummy.

Gummy blinked his agreement.

“QUIET GUMMY!!!” Pinkie's warning may very well have been heard from the far side of town, and Angel wasn't spared the annoyance he'd feared after all. Fluttershy jolted to her ceiling with a high-pitched yelp, clinging to it like Spider Mare for dear life. “Oh, Fluttershy! You're awake after all! Yippee!” she enthused.

“P-p-p—p-p—p—p—”

Pinkie gasped. “What a great way to start your day! D'you practice your Ps every morning? I have to admit, P-ing on the ceiling looks like a looot of fun, but ... doesn't that leave a bit of a mess to clean up?

Fluttershy had indeed wet herself slightly. A few droplets made their way into the pegasus's tail, where they were absorbed before they could do any real damage. Realizing her 'surprise' was visible, Fluttershy tucked her tail between her legs, embarrassed. Her face turned that much redder for being upside down. “Pinkie,” Fluttershy finally managed, gasping. “Y-you—startled me.”

Pinkie's embarrassment showed this time. Her ears folded back and she blushed, grinning apologetically. “Oh. Sorry.” Her tone was less excited, but, in foalish innocence, her perkiness returned the moment Fluttershy uttered a timid pardon. “I'll just, uh ... let you clean yourself up, then!” Having the good grace to at least act embarrassed still, Pinkie turned away and let Fluttershy make her way to the adjoining bathroom.

Fortunately, Fluttershy's affinity for French culture extended beyond her taste for haute couture into bathroom fixtures. A bidet had many uses, of which the pegasus was especially fond, even if, recently, she used it much less frequently.

Fluttershy returned to find Pinkie Pie trying to teach Gummy how to whistle a waiting tune. “Um ...”

Pinkie turned to find the pegasus brushed and ready for the day. “I tell ya!” The pink pony held up one hoof to shield Gummy from the harsh truth, speaking in a loud whisper. “This alligator cannot whistle.”

“A-alligators can't whistle,” Fluttershy attempted to explain, but realized too late that it was a lost cause.

Pinkie gasped. “Don't listen to her, Gummy!” She covered his ear slits. “Let the poor gator dream, Shy!” Promptly, she tossed the toothless reptile to her mane where he latched onto what must surely be cotton candy for its similar shape and color.

“So, I see you managed to take care of that ghost problem you were having!” The topic changed before Fluttershy had a chance to react to the last comment, but she was used to that when it came to dealing with Pinkie Pie.

“Uhm ... well, yes, I—I guess. You didn't see the sign next to the path?”

“Nopey-dopey!”

“Oh. Well, then ... yes.”

Fluttershy made her way down the twisting staircase from her room with a spiraling glide and an uneasy landing, Pinkie following behind. As Fluttershy passed an empty food dish, she realized she'd once again forgotten to feed Angel dinner, and, suddenly, the reason for the sign's disappearance became more clear to her. She sighed and went to feeding the indoor critters, leaving Angel's salad for him to find in its usual place, knowing he preferred to stay away when her more raucous friends—usually Pinkie or Discord—visited.

Pinkie was used to the routine and had helped out enough mornings to know where she could lend a hoof. While Fluttershy moved slowly, only nodding with brief verbal acknowledgments to the younger pink mare, Pinkie bounced, cartwheeled, and chattered about, completing most of the chores before Fluttershy got to them in half the time Fluttershy would have if she'd been at peak performance. Pinkie's job was only a quarter as pleasant to the animals, but neither they nor Fluttershy complained in light of the week's neglect and struggle.

Immediately after morning chores, Pinkie went ahead of Fluttershy to the cottage kitchen and began pulling out ingredients to bake something predictably saccharine. The pink mare worked unusually quietly, fervently. While, normally, she'd have invited her pegasus friend to help, Fluttershy was relieved instead to have a moment to sit and rest. Energy and focus weren't things she had much of at the moment thanks to restless nights, yet both would have been required to keep up with Pinkie Pie.

Meanwhile, the melancholy mare let a mask settle loosely over her misery to try and prevent any probing questions. Fluttershy tried putting on a smile. With effort she managed an uncomfortable grin. It wouldn't hold long before tears stung at her eyes, and Fluttershy fell back to the emotionless zombie-like state she'd been in since the end of the meeting with Twilight, Rarity, and Sweetie Belle. Pinkie would notice the fake easily if she were even a little attentive. Fluttershy hoped that today she might be fortunate enough to avoid trying to convince Pinkie she was alright, but, with her luck lately, thought Fluttershy, it didn't seem at all likely.

“Lick this!” a commanding call came from across the kitchen, followed closely by the clatter of a batter-coated bowl and beater falling neatly into place in front of Fluttershy.

Not particularly in the mood for anything, but not wanting to raise suspicion, Fluttershy reluctantly obeyed. It was sugary, as expected, and smelled and tasted like strawberry cake mix—really good strawberry cake mix.

Fluttershy managed to show a little improvement in her enthusiasm as she lapped at the whisk and bowl, lifting the bowl and cleaning it out dutifully. She'd somehow forgotten how much she appreciated Pinkie Pie's sweets. Having mostly nibbled on raw clover and alfalfa the last week, and really only concerning herself with a full meal once a day when Twilight could afford the time to visit and ensure she ate, Fluttershy truly enjoyed something sweet for a change.

The hungry mare had mostly finished when, as if waiting for her to consume enough food for energy, tears began to flow unbidden. Silently, Fluttershy cursed herself. Trying to regain control, feigning that there was still plenty of batter left, Fluttershy let herself hide behind the bowl.

There, she sobbed silently for far longer than anypony would have needed to clean out a bowl. Pinkie watched from across the kitchen once she'd finished mixing up the frosting, saying nothing, waiting patiently for the kitchen timer.

It dinged.

Out Pinkie pulled two trays of cupcakes. In a flash they were plucked out carefully from the tray, frosted generously, and served, half a dozen, on a clean plate to her friend. Pinkie sat across from Fluttershy and waited once more. Knowing that she'd been discovered, Fluttershy lowered the bowl to peek over with sparkling, sorrow-filled eyes.

Pinkie met her gaze sympathetically. “You don't have to stop licking if you're not ready to.” Pinkie spoke brightly, but tenderly.

Fluttershy covered her face again, gratefully, squeaking emotionally and sniffling as she continued to let it out. By the time she finally stopped, the cupcakes had cooled somewhat.

Pinkie Pie sat ready for her, uncharacteristically patient. As Fluttershy put down the bowl, the perky little mare offered her a party napkin. “I don't usually carry tissues or handkerchiefs around, but maybe you can use this.”

“Thank you.” Fluttershy took the napkin, dabbed at her eyes, then blew.

“You missed some,” Pinkie pointed to Fluttershy's snout.

Fluttershy quickly raised the tissue back to her face, embarrassed.

“No, silly! I meant cake mix! Riiight there.” She booped the yellow pegasus, wiping off a little bit of the mix with her hoof, then tasting it. Fluttershy was a little grossed out, but didn't dwell on it. The pink pony hummed a high-pitched “Mmmm!” and Fluttershy licked awkwardly at the tip of her snout for a moment, cross-eyed, to get most of the rest, then wiped it clean with the unused part of the napkin.

“No wonder you were licking the bowl for so long! That's good!” Pinkie chuckled merrily at her own act, and Fluttershy couldn't help but smile a little. “Hopefully the end results taste even yummier!”

Fluttershy eyed the cupcakes hungrily.

“Wait!” Pinkie went wide-eyed. “How could I almost forget?!” Pinkie reached into her mane and withdrew, “Sprinkles!” After generously applying the multicolored embellishments, Pinkie inspected her work closely then nodded. “There! Eat up!”

Fluttershy took one tentatively in her teeth, watching for Pinkie in case there was anything left to add. When the young pink pony only smiled with a twinkle in her eyes, Fluttershy chomped the cupcake whole.

She felt more sweet energy in her tired body. It tasted like heaven and reminded her of the closest thing she'd felt to heaven. Though she didn't quit eating, tears ran down Fluttershy's cheeks afresh. In spite of them, relief washed through her, and a tenuous smile held as she chewed.

Pinkie was wide-eyed again, uncomprehending at the sight of her friend's teary smile. Quickly, she took a cupcake from the second tray, sprinkled it, and ate it in one bite as she'd seen Fluttershy do. It was good! One of her best, but not that good.

Pinkie munched the remainder of her half dozen quietly with Fluttershy, tossing one to Gummy, and she pondered. Maybe Fluttershy would tell her soon what was happening. Maybe she'd tell her after it was over, or maybe it would all come to her in a wave of inspiration like things sometimes did.

Pinkie stayed throughout the afternoon and into the early evening, making more cupcakes for lunch and pie for dinner, playing hooky from work, meanwhile, to help around the cottage. If Pinkie hadn't had such a capricious reputation with her employers already, Fluttershy might have put up more resistance, but, as the pegasus had been very out of sorts recently, she couldn't complain when Pinkie told her not to worry her pretty little head, and helped her catch up on work.

Finally, Fluttershy refilled Gummy's gum-polishing paste before Pinkie gave her a farewell hug. “I have a funny feeling in my left nostril that tells me the beware ghosts sign is hidden at Harry's underneath his bed, by the way.”

“Oh! Umm ... Thank you for telling me.” Fluttershy became bashful.

“Fluttershy,” Pinkie addressed her friend candidly.

Fluttershy looked back cautiously.

“If you really don't wanna talk, it's okay, but ... please don't put the sign back up ... unless ... unless there really are ghosts.” Pinkie looked about nervously.

Fluttershy nodded, smiling, her eyes wet again as they'd been most of the day. “I Pinkie promise.” Fluttershy crossed her heart and covered her right eye. “Now that Angel knows, I think, I might have to get rid of that sign altogether, actually, or he might—um, I mean ... never mind. I won't put it up any more ... and I'm really sorry I was keeping you away.” Fluttershy truly regretted it after the time they'd spent together.

The two hugged again, and, as Pinkie bounced away, so did part of Fluttershy's burden.

Author's Note

Last revised 10 February 2015
- for style, voice, and detail

Original Note:
That feel when I publish a chapter, but I feel like something is still missing.
Bleh.

I'm pleased with how the Pinkie portion turned out, at least. Feel free to disagree, of course. Feedback welcome, 'n such.

Sources:
http://leetea.hubpages.com/hub/How-to-Prepare-Chamomile-Tea
http://mlpforums.com/topic/64869-pinkies-family-revealed/?p=1608604
http://www.theequinest.com/care/food/hay/
https://derpiboo.ru/16625

Edit (8/19/14) : Thanks to Setokaiva for proofreading.