Desire and Deep Water

Looking back, you can’t believe how quickly the week had passed.

Every evening, you’d pay Twilight Sparkle a visit, and every evening, she’d greet you with a look of pleasant surprise, followed shortly after by a polite conversation, before giving you some instructions via parchment. By the fourth day, she had even plucked up the strength to talk to you directly.

“Thanks. For. Your. Help.”

One word at a time for the poor girl. However, it was louder than whispering her words for Spike to pass on, so it was clearly an improvement. In fact, if you recall correctly, those were the first words she’d ever said to you. Luckily, none of those were curses or threats for putting her through all that illness in the first place. So far so good.

By the seventh day, her voice was in perfectly good health; no croaks or coughs to be heard. She had a heartening, yet reasonable voice, maybe a little ostentatious from time to time, as Spike couldn’t resist pointing out. However, you found her little quirks - such as panicking over minor schedules and lists, or organising particular things just right - as normal as anypony else‘s personalities in this crazy town. It’s almost cute, when you think about it.

By the way, did you sort out those scrap piles yet?

“Where did you get all that scrap from, anyway?” Twilight asks you one evening, as Spike prepares her meal in the next room.

“From the lake,” You shrug; the answer’s simple enough to you, “Lots of ponies think they can dump stuff in it in secret. They can’t. I just dive in, take the junk out, and if I know who dumped it, I dump it right back on their doorsteps. They usually don‘t try again afterwards. If I don’t know who did it, I either keep the scrap for myself or sell it. Either way, I keep the lake clean..”

“Wow,” Twilight leans back in her bed in mild surprise, “I didn’t know ponies did that.”

“Well, not very many ponies do it that often,” you admit, “The scrap you saw at my place has kinda been building up for years, I just haven’t sold it all yet-”

“No, no, not the whole scrap collecting thing,” Twilight cuts in, “I meant I’ve never seen many ponies go lake-diving for a living. You must have spent a fortune on diving equipment.”

“Hm? Nah.” you shake your head, “I don’t use diving gear. Even if I could afford it.”

She pauses to think for moment, then perks up again. “Oh, now I get it; you hire unicorns from Canterlot to cast a gill-giver spell on you. Wow, that must cost even more, since that’s harder to cast than a glimmer-wing spell, and even I struggle with that one!”

“No, I don’t do that either.” you say simply, “Like I said, I’m not exactly made of bits.”

“Then… how do you get the junk out from the bottom of the lake?”

“I dive in and get it.” by the look on Twilight’s face, she obviously wants you to explain a little more. You give an example; “There was this one time somepony dumped a whole empty wardrobe in there. Since it was way too heavy to carry out, I swam down there with a screwdriver, took it apart, then carried it out piece by piece. I still have that wardrobe, if you wanna see… it…”

You trail off when you notice Twilight's dumbfounded expression.

“Um, not to sound personal, but…” Twilight looks around her own bedroom, as if she didn’t want anypony overhearing (who would even care? Spike?), and leans forward, as if she’s about to ask a deeply private question. You lean forward in response.

“Exactly how long can you hold your breath?”

“My word!” you jokingly recoil in mock-distress, placing a hoof over your forehead dramatically, as if you were in a pantomime, “What a personal question! Almost as personal as asking you, I dunno, how long you can read a book for! The sheer horror!”

She giggles at your (obviously) award-winning performance, and playfully gives you a nudge in return, “Oh, stop it, it’s just that you hardly talk about yourself! I didn’t know whether you’d find it invasive or not.”

“Alright, you win,” you drop the overly dramatic charade, “I’ve just been coming here with the focus on helping you get better, so I guess I haven’t really spoken about much else.” You then remember her original question; “But since you’ve asked, I can hold my breath for about… four minutes average, sometimes five if I try hard enough. My record is eight minutes, which only happened once, during a bet with some friends. A bet that I lost, unfortunately - I was aiming for ten.”

Good times. You bring the subject back to Twilight before you get lost in your sense of nostalgia. “What about you? What’s your record?”

She picks her jaw off the floor before answering, “Uh… if I said one whole minute, I’d be lying.”

You chuckle, “And what about your record on reading?”

“Ah, now that’s my strong suit!” she blushes, much like before, and treats it like something that should be a private question, “If you must know, I can read a book for about… four hours average, sometimes eight if I try hard enough. My record is fourteen hours, which only happened once, from 8pm to 10am. It was an all-nighter I crammed for an exam back in Canterlot. An exam which I aced, by the way.”

Whoa. And she thought you and your breath holding was over-the-top.

“What about you when it comes to books?” she asks.

“If I said one whole hour, I’d be lying.”

You both share a laugh. Soon, Spike walks in with a few bowls of freshly made soup, and the rest of the evening is spent bantering and talking for hours on end about each other‘s past adventures.

*******

The library door shuts for the last time that night, as the lake-owner bids farewell to Spike and Twilight. His hoof steps quieten as he trots away, leaving the two librarians to some small talk before going to sleep.

“Weird, how he keeps coming back to help every day, huh?” Spike speculates, “I’ve told him he really doesn’t have to, but the guy insists.”

“You aren’t worried about him taking your place, are you Spike?”

“Oh geez no, Twilight,” he shakes his head definitively, “I’m way over that since the whole Owloysius thing. Which reminds me, he’ll be awake soon.”

Twilight gets back on topic, “I think I know why our friend keeps coming back; perhaps he thinks the more he cares for me, the faster I’ll recover and get my magic back, so I can finally thaw out his lake. Or maybe he feels kinda guilty for making me fall through the ice in the first place.” she then inhales deeply, and lets it out in a slow, dreamy sigh that causes Spike to raise his head, “Either way, I really don‘t mind the extra company.”

Spike just stands there, staring open-mouth at his friend. “Uh, what the heck was that about, Twilight?”

“What the heck was what?”

“That, Twilight.” he responds, “That sigh; you just did a Rarity-Sigh!”

“A… Rarity-Sigh?” the unicorn scoffs, suddenly feeling the need to roll her eyes and avert her eye contact, “Wha- what does that even mean?”

“It’s the same sigh I do whenever I think about Rarity, of course! It doesn’t make sense that you’re doing it though. I always thought that only happens to dragons and ponies who have… crushes…”

His eyes widen when the realisation clicks. Both of his clawed hands reach up to cover his agape jaw as he fixes Twilight with a reproving stare.

“Oh-”

“Spike, don‘t even say it!”

“-my-”

“He’s just a nice pony, okay?”

“-Celestia! You have a crush on- Mmph!” He gets cut short by the purple hoof that stuffs itself into his mouth.

“Geez, tell half of Ponyville, why don’t you?” Twilight sneers, turning red with embarrassment. Finally, she removes her hoof. “You got me. I’ve been… looking forward to his visits more every day. Remember before I moved to Ponyville, Spike? Remember when all I would care about is books and getting high grades? He’s just like that! He reminds me of me, only instead of books, he spends his time looking after that lake. Other than that minor detail, we’re just so much alike! And because of that, I think he’s the only stallion I truly understand. Because I’ve been there before! I‘ve been him! I understand him like no other colt I‘ve ever spoken to in my life!”

She pauses, giving her assistant a chance to register her rant. “Please, Spike,” she says finally, “promise me you won‘t tell anypony about this.”

The dragon gestures, dragging his finger and thumb across his lips in a ‘zipping’ motion. His lips are sealed.