It sure is a sunny day.
Rainbow had made sure of that. For hours after she’d left, Spike had watched her streak back and forth across the sky until not a single cloud remained. But still she flew, as if she was daring the heavens to defy her.
Spike sighed and turned from the window, his reverie broken and the reality of his surroundings slowly starting to creep back in to his conscious mind.
It was quiet now, and lonely. Before he’d drifted off, the room had been packed with ponies. Loud ponies. Pinkie Pie in particular hadn’t been able to keep her volume under control. She’d been fine until her turn had come, but when she’d returned there was no stopping the agonized cries. Spike remembered something about Applejack taking the poor mare out for a walk, he guessed they never came back.
It made sense, it had taken Spike everything he had to come to the hospital that day and he wasn’t sure he could manage it again. But he had to go, if he’d stayed behind she’d never have forgiven him. Hay, Spike would never have forgiven himself.
It was just him and Fluttershy now. Curled up on one of the uncomfortable waiting-room sofas, the poor mare was something to behold. Tiny sobs wracked her trembling body and a steady river of tears poured from her bloodshot eyes. But she made not a sound. The silent misery was more than Spike could handle, and he gazed back out the window.
Rainbow was nowhere to be seen, maybe she’d spotted some other clouds on the other side of the hospital, or maybe she’d simply ran out of strength. No, thought Spike. Rainbow Dash is the strongest mare you know, she’d never give up hope. And if she did… What hope is there for me?
But she hadn’t seemed strong earlier. When her name had been called she’d strode proudly into the room, eyes aflame and head held high. She’d left broken. Not like Pinkie or Fluttershy, Rainbow had left shouting. The nurses had recoiled beneath her fury, unable to give her the answers she demanded of them. Maybe their words had sunk in, or maybe Rainbow was just sick of feeling so helpless, but finally she’d left. She muttered something about “clear skies” and “the least she could do” before she’d began her rounds.
Maybe Rainbow wasn’t the strongest after all. Applejack had returned from her visit without as much as a tear marring her freckled visage. But when she’d told Pinkie it was her time, Spike saw through the façade. He’d never known Applejack to slip before, but there was a break in her voice and a woe in her eyes that chilled spike to the bone. So Applejack couldn’t be their anchor either—that left only one option.
As if summoned by his unconscious, the door to her room crept open. The mare that came out broke Spike’s heart. Twilight’s head hung low, her eyes puffy and swollen with tears. Her mane was unkempt and she seemed to have aged years in the short time she’d been gone.
Spike felt numb.
The shell of Twilight Sparkle walked slowly towards Fluttershy, and pulled the miserable creature into a tight embrace. Spike choked. The sound seemed to remind Twilight that he was there, and she slowly turned to him.
“She’s ready for you now.”
The words hit Spike like a freight train. He drew strength from reserves he didn’t knew he possessed, and stood. Suddenly the monotonous grey door seemed miles away. A knot formed in Spike’s stomach, and each step he took his body screamed against him. He wanted to run. His instincts tried to wrench him from that terrible place, to protect him from what stood behind that door.
He didn’t know when his hand found the handle. He didn’t know how long he stood there like an idiot. But eventually the quiet sounds of distress behind him were too much to bear, and he opened the door.
The first thing he noticed upon entering was the sunset. Rainbow really had done a perfect job: not a single imposed upon the beautiful scene before him. The sun was just beginning to fall beneath the horizon, bathing the room in dazzling reds and purples.
“Lovely-- isn’t it, darling?”
The figure on the bed blended so well with her white sheets Spike had almost missed her. The lump in his throat doubled in size when he saw her.
“Oh, Rarity…”
The sickness had really taken its toll on the poor mare. Her once majestic and meticulously taken care of mane was all but gone- reduced to mere patches of faded brittle hair sprouting from her head and neck. Her pristine white coat was blemished and matted, her lips cracked and faded, and her once polished form shriveled and broken. Were it not for those intoxicating blue eyes and gentle smile, Spike would have sworn it was another mare that lay before him. He must’ve been staring, because Rarity turned away from him and back to the sunset.
“Don’t look at me, Spike. Please. I want to be remembered like I was… Not this- this husk.”
That was more than Spike could handle. Tears flowed freely over his cheeks and hung loosely on his chin. Darn it, he had to be strong! He was thankful she’d looked away, it would make this a lot easier.
“Rarity. There’s something I’ve been—something I—“
She cut him off. “I know.”
“You—You what?”
“I know, Spike. I’ve always known. You don’t need to say anything.”
“Yes, I do!” Spike’s claws dug into his palms. He was glad now he didn’t bring flowers, as they would surely have been crushed. “Now more than ever I have to say it, because I might not get another chance!”
The room hung in silence for a moment.
“You’re the first one to say it like that. Rainbow tried to fight with me, Pinkie kept going on about laughter being the best medicine—poor girl, I know sobbing when I hear it—and Twilight brought me a list of studies looking into the illness. Applejack wouldn’t even look me in the eye…” Rarity turn back to look at him, her eyes quivered and tears began to well up around them.
“I love you Rarity.”
She closed her eyes, but not before they leaked their salty sorrow down her dry features.
“You can’t.”
“I—What?”
“You can’t love me, not like this. Darling, look at me! I’m hideous.”
“I don’t care what you look like Rarity, I love you! Not your coat, not your mane, you.”
“Please, Spike… Just stop.”
He could feel himself trembling. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He was supposed to be at her boutique, making dresses and loving life. He was supposed to swing the door open, to take her in his arms—he was also supposed to be taller—and kiss her. If Spike tried to lift her now he was sure she’d crumble to dust and slip between his claws. Rarity noticed his silence and continued.
“Please try to understand. It’s not that I—that I don’t… I’m dying, Spike. The doctors say I have a few days, but I can feel it. I won’t last the night.”
He tried to speak, but he couldn’t form the words.
“What would you like me to say, Spike? You’re so young, and you’re going to live such a long, long time. Don’t do this to yourself. You’ll forget me in time, and you’ll move on. But if you do this now… No- I won’t allow it!” Rarity turned away from him once more. “I think it would be best if you left, Spike.”
It couldn’t end like this. He could have handled rejection, but to be turned away to spare his feelings? No.
“Rarity,” Spike said, she didn’t move.
“Rarity, please,” he saw her shaking.
“Damn it, Rarity, look at me!”
Nothing.
Spike didn’t know what to do. The sun was almost gone now, and if Rarity was right she was running out of time.
“Please… Just go.”
Spike turned and placed a claw upon the door knob. He took a deep breath, but no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t turn it. With a defeated sigh he rested his head against the wooden barrier. “How could you?” He croaked. “How could you be so selfish?”
He heard the creaking of the bed behind him and felt her gaze on his back. “Selfish? I—“
“I know—I know what you’re trying to do. But it won’t work. It can’t work. Rarity you’re everything to me, and even if you’d ripped my heart from my chest when I confessed it wouldn’t make letting you go any easier,” he turned to face her, emerald eyes boring into her. “All you’re doing now is taking the few hours I have left with the mare I love more than anything in the world away from me. Hours I can never get back. So yeah, that sounds pretty selfish to me.”
Rarity’s sobs turned to choking coughs, and immediately Spike was at her side. He held her hoof in his claws and squeezed tightly. The coughing died down and she smiled up at him.
“Spikey-wikey…”
“Please, let me stay.”
“Oh, Spike… If you left now I don’t think I’d be able to go on another second. I’m so sorry.”
Spike’s words failed him again. He pulled a chair to her bedside—not letting go of her hoof for a moment—and sat beside her. It was quiet then, the only sounds were Rarity’s raspy breaths and the occasional sob when one of them could no longer contain the sorrow welling up inside.
He wanted to say so many things. To do so many things. He finally had her, and she finally had him.
And then the sun went down, and she was gone.