The sun had long been smothered by the layer of dark clouds that hung over Canterlot, soaking the streets and anypony foolish enough to wander outside. From a window on the second story of Canterlot Memorial Hospital, a young mare watched as the downpour continued. Her brilliant orange eyes were dull and lifeless as the doctor behind her listed off the injuries that her best friend and teammate had sustained. She had given up on listening to him long ago, having retreated into her own thoughts. The biggest one of which, she could not shake.
"This is all my fault.”
Sleep was something that would not come easily to Spitfire. Not from the lack of trying nor was it from the infernal tones of the heart monitor. No, it was the memories that played before her minds eye that were the source of her insomnia.
"Push yourselves harder."
"Spits, we been at this for days."
"Please, just one more."
"Fine, one more."
"Soarin...SOARIN!"
It wasn't the dream that woke her but rather the soft click of the door. Dazed from the dream and lack of sleep, Spitfire took a moment to look around the room she had spent the night in. It was standard for a hospital room with its white walls and tile floor, the only color came from the numerous flowers and gifts sent in by family, friends, and fans.
But these were not for her, they belonged to the stallion lying on the bed. His pale blue coat was crisscrossed in bandages, his dark blue mane was unkempt, and still he looked like the Soarin she called her best friend and second in command. Hearing the sound of a pony clearing their throat, Spitfire looked up to see Fleetfoot standing near the door. If the bags under her eyes and her disheveled mane where any indicator then she had gotten just as much sleep as Spitfire had.
"How's he been doing boss," Fleetfoot began, " I mean besides the fact that he's still unconscious."
"Better, Fleet, he's been doing better."
"And what about you boss? We haven't seen you in a couple of days and, well, frankly we're getting worried."
"I'm fine." Spitfire offered with a broken smile.
Feeling that it wasn't the time to press the subject, Fleetfoot left, a barely audible click of the door latch to signal her exit. After Spitfire was sure her team mate was out of earshot, she let out a sigh and went back to thinking.
This is all my fault, I pushed them to their limits and I didn’t even recognize how much danger it put them in... M-maybe I'm not meant to be captain... Maybe I should resign. With the last of her thoughts fading away, Spitfire slipped into another restless state of sleep.
Waking up is hard, waking up to a beautiful sleeping mare, not so much. Unless that mare is your best friend and boss. This was the position Soarin found himself in as he opened up his emerald green eyes.
’Funny I don't remember asking Spits to stay the night,’ Soarin thought to himself, ’nor do I remember going to the hos-’ The situation hit Soarin like a ton of bricks, causing any rational thought that was going to come to promptly leave and never come back.
Not even ten minutes after she had fallen asleep, Spitfire was again jarred awake by the same dream that had been plaguing her for the last three days. Letting out an annoyed snort, she got up and decided to get herself a cup of coffee. The hallways were devoid of life and, counting that as a blessing, Spitfire used the time to mull over the choice she was going to make.
’It will take a day or so for the resignation letter to go through, then a couple more to find a replacement, but what will I write? Will I tell them that I feel my own pride and selfishness caused me to push my team to the breaking point? That because I was so blind I could not see the damage I had done or that I ran away like a scared filly because I could not face the consequences of my actions?’ Returning to Soarin's room, Spitfire penned her resignation letter and accepted sleep's hold for one last time that day.
Looking over at his best friend, Soarin felt joy well up inside of his chest. Not only was she here today, but it looked like she had been here long before he had woken up. The sound of the door opening startled both Pegasi in the room. As their heart rates returned to normal, a slate grey Pegasus entered the room.
"Ah you're awake, my name is Doctor Rapid Response, but you can call me Doctor Rapid if you wish." His voice held a note of professionalism and yet was still warm and inviting. Looking over both the ponies in the room, Doctor Rapid decided to address both of them.
"You must be Soarin, and you, dear mare, must be Spitfire."
After sharing a brief glance, Spitfire and Soarin nodded their heads simultaneously.
"Good. Now I'm not going to lie, your wings were in very bad shape and we did the best we coul-."
"How bad is it Doc?" Soarin had had enough of this beating around the bush.
"Alright, even with the work we've done, flying will be hard if not impossible for you."
Those words chilled Soarin and Spitfire to the bone, so much so, that in their state of shock they failed to notice the Doctor take his leave. Spitfire was the first to recover and decided it was best to leave Soarin to himself for now. As she excused herself, Soarin didn’t notice her leave as he was already deep in thought.
’Well my career is over and I might never fly again. I guess it could be worse... I could be dead.’ Shaking those thoughts from his head Soarin decide to look around at the room he inhabited. It looked like a slandered hospital room; white walls, fluorescent lights, a table and a chair.
But what got his attention was the envelope sitting on the table. Letting his curiosity get the better of him, Soarin opened the envelope and read the letter inside, feeling his heart drop more than he ever thought possible. Hearing the door open once again, Soarin was surprised to see none other than Fleetfoot entering his room with an embarrassed grin on her muzzle.
"How long have you been out there Fleet?" Soarin asked with a slight grin.
"Long enough to hear the news... I'm so sorry Soarin."
"It's not me you should be worried about." Soarin said as he handed Fleetfoot the letter Spitfire had left.
As Fleetfoot got to the last line of the letter, her eyesight was already blurry from the tears she could not hold back.
"Soarin, what are we going to do." Fleetfoots voice was shaky
"I don't k- wait... your family is still friends with Mrs. Rainstorm right?"
After receiving a nod from Fleetfoot Soarin knew what he had to do. Finding a new sheet of paper and writing his own letter as well as list of instructions, he hoofed it over to Fleetfoot and ushered her out the door.
Spitfire swore to herself that if she ever had to eat hospital food again, she would cut off her own tongue and let a Timberwolf use it as a chew toy. Opening the door to the room Soarin was staying in, Spitfire was surprised to see that she was on the receiving end of a pretty nasty glare.
"Spitfire, what is this?" Soarin demanded as he tossed the letter at her hooves.
Spitfire knew telling him about her decision would be hard but she had never imagined that seeing him angry with her would scare her so much.
"Soarin, I-"
"Don't start that. Don't say you're sorry and still do it. Spitfire, all I want to know is why?
Why. That word that one word stung Spitfire deeper than any physical wound could.
"Why? Because I hurt you, destroyed your dreams and the trust of my teammates. Why? Because I could not see how much danger I was putting you all in and for what? Something as foolish as pride..."
"Spits, we all make mistakes, I don't blame you and neither does the team. We follow you because we look up to you and we believe you deserved the rank of captain more than any of the other captains that came before you."
"That's why I must resign. Wh-what if next time we're not as lucky. What if somepony dies, I couldn't handle what's happened now what makes you think I could handled that."
"Spitfir-."
"No… Soarin I'm sorry"
And with that Spitfire bolted out of the door and into the night.
It had been two weeks since the letter had been sent, two weeks of physical therapy for Soarin and two weeks of doubt for Spitfire. While she was happy to see that he had improved and could fly for short distances, it still hurt her to know that she was the reason all of the therapy was needed. Walking into the rec-room of the Wonderbolts headquarters, Spitfire was surprised to see all of her teammates waiting for her with disappointed scowls on their faces. Looking down Spitfire caught site of the envelope marked with the Wonderbolts seal, wordlessly she sat on her hunches and began to read.
Dear Cpt.Spitfire
I am writing this to inform you that unfortunately your resignation is denied due to an accident with a shredder and your paperwork. We apologize for the inconvenience.
Sincerely, Rainstorm
Only now was Spitfire aware of the snickers going on behind her. Looking up she came face to face with Soarin’s smiling visage.
"Go on, there's one more" Soarin said in a soft tone.
Turning the envelope upside down Spitfire saw a smaller letter float down to the ground picking it up and unfolding it she began to read. Slowly she could feel the doubt clear away like clouds after a storm. Looking up at her team, no her family, she was surrounded by, Spitfire could only utter out one phrase
"Thank you."
Author's Note
Thank you all so much for reading this I had fun writing this story and hopefully it is the first of many.
Don't forget to point out errors and such, it helps me learn and improve. Also thank you to Jolly Roger and InfiniteZero for editing, with out you guys this might of never got off the ground.
Also the deleted comments below where from before submission and were there to help me fix parts of this fic.
-chrysaor
