Why We Fall (written by OtterMatt) (obsolete)

by Spabble

Rating: everyone
Tags: Random
Length: 6355

Everypony has goals. Everypony has dreams, and ideals, and morals that they live by and strive for. And everypony falls short of the mark sometimes.

Everypony has goals. Everypony has dreams, and ideals, and morals that they live by and strive for. And everypony falls short of the mark sometimes.
What do you do then? How do you cope when your highest goals are turned around—or disappear altogether? What do you do when your best isn’t good enough?

Edited by Spabble.

- - - - -

Hey, everyone. OtterMatt here. Just for the record, I’m not coming back to FimFic. Not ever. I’m sorry to say it, but my life has moved on, as it were, and writing just isn’t a part of it anymore. That being said, I love these stories of mine very much. There’s a lot of myself that I put into them, and at least a couple people have told me that these stories meant a lot to them as well. So, for those people, and for anyone else who enjoys my work in the future, I’m charging my friend Spabble here with curating my completed stories. Thank you all for the love, the faves, and the support as I grew and learned. Keep doing what you love, and the best of luck to you all.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2014-08-12 19:14:23 UTC

Fluttershy

Love me…

Fluttershy growled as she threw the bowl of feed out her front door and slammed it shut again.  The animals—it was always the animals.  Why did she set herself up where so many things depended on her?  She just—she couldn’t do it.  Not today.  The animals themselves were long gone, hiding outside and trying to stay as quiet as possible.  They had known her long enough to see these times coming, and at the first sign of a mood swing, they left.  Even Angel had learned that it was better simply not to be in the house.

Her whole life she had battled these moods: moods that made her feel savage and cruel, moods where she didn’t care who she stepped on or offended, moods that could very easily cost her her friends.  It was like a cloud of negativity, a blackness that hovered around the edges of her vision.  It called her to give in, to let herself go in a way she hadn’t ever since the Grand Galloping Gala almost two years ago.

You’re GOING to love me…

Fluttershy grabbed a nearby feeding manual and took her anger out on it.  She ripped out pages with her teeth and flung them across the empty house before the empty hardcover slammed into a clock, knocking it from the wall in a crash.

It was as though there were two Fluttershys constantly warring within her.  One fought to live up to her calling as a kindhearted pony, and the other fought for satisfaction and revenge.  She clung desperately to the former in constant fear of the latter, a side of her that Iron Will had unwittingly coaxed out.  That glimpse into what she could be terrified her, made her think that maybe she had deserved it—no matter how much she knew that to be a lie.

She screwed her eyes shut, gritting her teeth as she screamed out into the empty house, a wordless cry of frustration.  It wasn’t her fault—she kept telling herself that, but it didn’t make the memories stop.  She could still see the room where she had grown up, where her younger sister would often hide under the bed.  She could still feel the hooves on her body, ones she should have been able to trust.  She could still hear the voice…

Whether you want to or not, Fluttershy, you’re GOING to love me…

The pegasus smashed her face into a pillow, curling up into a ball and screaming into the fabric until her throat went raw.  Shame rolled over her like a wave, trying to pull her into the undertow of depression.  She fought the urge to give in.  She was the Element of Kindness, but all she wanted to do was hurt and cry and fight.  Her darker half raged inside her, desperate for any semblance of control she could exert over others to mask the lack of control she felt in her own life.

It wasn’t her fault…

“It’s NOT my fault!” she screamed into the house, throwing the pillow across the room, where it knocked over some of the dishes left out from the previous night.  The sound of the porcelain and glass smashing on the wood floor made her curl up tighter.

She hugged her wings around herself, sobbing.  “I can’t do it, I can’t do it,” she muttered to herself, over and over again.  She was a dismal excuse for an Element of Harmony, as broken as she was.  She couldn’t even find Harmony in herself—how was she supposed to embody it to an entire world?

“… Shy?”

Fluttershy started, looking up through bleary eyes to see Rainbow Dash standing in the doorway.  Fluttershy’s best friend from foalhood looked over the wreckage of the room, seeing the weeping pegasus on the couch.  Dash galloped over to her.

“Oh, Fluttershy.  Again?” Rainbow asked softly.

Fluttershy could only nod, shivering uncontrollably from the emotional release.

Rainbow Dash pulled her into a firm hug, wrapping her blue wings around the larger pegasus.  “Shhh,” she murmured.  “It’s okay, Flutters.  It’s okay.”

“I can’t do it, Rainbow Dash,” she gasped between sobs.  “I can’t be an Element anymore.”

Rainbow gave the older mare a sisterly nuzzle.  “What do you mean?  You’re great at it!  You’re totally the kindest pony I know.”

“But I don’t want to be kind.”  Fluttershy curled up as much as she could in Dash’s embrace.  “It’s so hard.  I can’t do it anymore.  I just don’t—I don’t feel like it.”

Her friend kept holding her tightly.  “Fluttershy, you know who you are inside—this isn’t you.  You’re a wonderful pony who would do anything for somepony else.”

“But I’m not!” she exclaimed hoarsely, her rasping throat stealing the majority of her voice.  “Rainbow Dash, I’m always so angry!  I’m always angry, and I have to hide it, or fight it.  Any time I let myself slip just a little, I hurt ponies.  I hurt ponies who never did anything to me, just like I did when Iron Will came to town.  I can’t keep hiding my anger all the time.  I hate that stallion.  I hate him so much…”

“Shy, your father was a bastard.  You didn’t deserve any of the things he did to you, but your reactions to that don’t make you a bad pony.”

“How can I be the Element of Kindness when I’m so full of hate?”

Rainbow Dash sat quietly for a moment, lost in thought.  “I think it’s because of it, actually,” she said quietly.  “You know exactly how much kindness means, and what the opposite can do.  Every time you’re kind, or compassionate, or whatever, you’re showing that he didn’t win.  What he did to you doesn’t have to be all there is to you.  You’re helping to make Equestria a better place, so you’re not just fighting him, it’s like you’re cancelling him out—replacing his evil with good.”

Fluttershy was quiet for a long time, simply nestling in her best friend’s hooves as Dash rested her chin on top of Fluttershy’s head.

“This is normal,” Rainbow said, her voice quiet and thoughtful.  “You were hurt, and it’s normal that you would be angry about that.  We can find an outlet for that if you need it, but, Shy,” Dash pled, “please tell the other girls about this.  Can you?”

Fluttershy shivered.  “I don’t know…”

“You won’t have to do it alone.  I promise they’ll all support you.  I support you, but I’m not always around.  You need as many friends to give you love as you can get.”

“… maybe sometime soon,” Fluttershy relented.  “But not right now.  Just—just please keep holding me for now.”

“You got it,” Rainbow replied, giving her friend a squeeze and rubbing her back gently with a wing.

Pinkie Pie

Pinkie stared at the page, its surface just as blank as that of her mind.  The quill in her hoof hovered above the worn, hard-bound journal, but no words came to her.  With a melancholy sigh, she returned the quill to the holder and flipped absently back through the previously-filled-in pages.

She had been keeping a journal ever since she was a filly.  The entries in her first volumes were blasé things, mainly a record of everyday occurrences and an unintended tribute to the tedium that her life had been back then—but ever since she got her cutie mark and purpose, the entries had been quite different.  Entries of mere words had given way to tales of joy, and paging backwards, she could see the good days of more recent memory play out across the pages.  More important than those entries, though, were the ones from days where the desire to smile just didn’t come to her.  On those days, she took to listing off reasons to smile: everything from the shining of Celestia’s sun to the feel of grass on her hooves.  Invariably, by the time she was done writing, there would be at least a small smile tugging at the corners of her muzzle.

It wasn’t a small thing to her; it was her life’s purpose.  If she couldn’t smile, then she couldn’t make other ponies smile, and that would just be a day wasted.  Her gaze drifted back to the inert quill pen.  Why was today so difficult?

Just yesterday had been a major party!  It was easily one of her biggest bashes of the year, to celebrate the occasion of Pound and Pumpkin Cake leaving home in pursuit of higher education.  Pound had left for Cloudsdale to pursue a degree in medicine and aeronautics.  His dream was to make the first usable wing prosthetics for injured pegasi.  Pumpkin had left for Canterlot to attend the Royal University, where she hoped to become a teacher.  It had done Pinkie no end of good to see the two foals she had helped raise grown up and dreaming of helping others, not to mention how proud it had made their parents—but today, the day after, Pinkie felt a malaise over her spirits that she couldn’t shake.

Pinkie had tried to list reasons to smile, but nothing seemed to hold any value.  All of her stock answers just felt trite and empty.  She glanced over to see herself in her full-length mirror.  While her mane and tail were by no means straightened, they lacked the bounce they normally held.  She pursed her lips thoughtfully.

Why was today so hard?  Surely she could go out and entertain any number of ponies, so why didn’t she want to?  Was she slowing down as she got older?  Almost certainly, she suspected, but that couldn’t be the only reason.  Mid-thirties wasn’t an old age by any means.

Pinkie’s ruminations cut off as the door swung lightly open.  She twisted around to see Mr. Cake standing in the doorway.  He looked tired, and his smile, while genuine, was tinged with sadness.  “Morning, Pinkie,” he said.  “Think you’ll be ready to open the shop soon?”

“Oh!  Of course, I almost forgot what time it was.”  The pink pony stood up and trotted slowly to the door, stopping in front of the spindly older stallion.

Mr. Cake eyed her carefully.  “You okay, Pinkie?  You seem a bit… subdued.”

Pinkie thought about denying the remark, but stopped.  It never hurt to be honest, after all.  “I’m not sure,” she admitted.  “I just don’t feel like smiling today, and that’s pretty unusual.”

He sighed.  “I know how you feel, Pinkie.”

“Oh, do you?  That’s good, because I don’t.”

He chuckled at her.  “The missus is still in bed after yesterday.  I don’t know if she’ll be up and about today, honestly.  The foals leaving home is… hard.  Even though we knew it was coming, it’s not easy.”

Pinkie scrunched up her nose as she tried to think the idea through.  “But aren’t they off doing super-cool things in college?  Why does that make you sad?”

Mr. Cake’s gave her a knowing smile.  “I bet it makes you sad, too.  Just listen, Pinkie.”

Pinkie stopped and paid attention to the silence around her.  She could feel her spirits sag even further without really knowing why.  “W-what’s wrong?”

“As Pound and Pumpkin’s parents, we’re very proud of them.  We want them to go off and do great things, but it still means that a lot of things around here have changed.  For eighteen years now, we’ve poured our entire lives into those two, and now they’re out on their own.”

The two ponies’ gazes met.  “You’ve put a lot of yourself into them, too, Pinkie,” Mr. Cake said.

“Well, yeah,” Pinkie said quietly.  “I love Pound and Pumpkin.  Of course I’m gonna miss them, but it just doesn’t feel quite like that.”

“Does it feel like you’re not sure what to do?”

The pink head cocked slightly to the side.  “Yeah…”

“They were such a big part of your life.”

Pinkie frowned, lost in thought.  “So… now that they’re not here, I don’t have anything to do anymore?”

He smiled.  “It may feel like that for a bit.  It’s normal, and change isn’t always easy.  But I know what we need to do right now.”

“What’s that?”

“We need to open the shop.”

The earth ponies trotted down to the shop floor and got to work, and soon the store was as busy as ever.  Ponies came and went, orders and bits changed hooves across the countertop, and every pony who came through gave warm wishes for Pound and Pumpkin.  Pinkie worked on autopilot, her years of experience guiding her hooves as her mind wandered.  Without having Pound and Pumpkin around, did she really not have any reason to smile?

Every day had been a new opportunity to make them laugh, or to cheer them up, or to comfort them when everything went wrong.  It was her life’s purpose, after all.  So with them grown and gone, had she lost her purpose?  She spared a quick glance back at her flank, confirming that her cutie mark was still there, as it had always been, but what did it all mean?  Had she fulfilled her purpose so soon?  What was she supposed to do now?

She looked back at the large mixing bowl held in her hooves, filled with all manner of nearly inedible ingredients that somehow combined to delight the senses.  Was this her purpose?  Baked goods did tend to make ponies smile, that much was sure, but it just felt too distant to her.  The confections were merely a way for her to help other ponies feel good, but the reason to keep doing it seemed to be eluding her today.

The clear chime of the bell on the counter snapped Pinkie back into reality.

“Pinkie, can you help whoever that is?  I’m a bit busy,” Mr. Cake called from the storeroom.

“Of course!” she called back and trotted up to the front counter, dusting flour off her hooves.  “Hey, Rose,” she chirped, trying to inject her normal enthusiasm into her voice.  “What can I do for you today?”

Roseluck gave her a small smile across the counter.  “Hello, Pinkie.  Daisy dropped a crate on her hoof yesterday.  I was going to go visit her in the hospital, and I thought that one of your cupcakes would make her feel a lot better.”

“Aw, that’s sweet.  What kind does she like?” Pinkie responded, drifting towards the appropriate shelf in preparation for the order.

“I think chocolate is her favorite.”

“And what’s yours?  Mine’s red velvet,” Pinkie asked.

“Um, I guess I like those yellow ones you make,” the tan mare said, obviously not expecting the question.

Pinkie popped back up above the counter with two cupcakes in a box, one dark brown and the other yellow.

“Oh, no, Pinkie, I didn’t need one myself, I—”

“Aww, Rose,” Pinkie chuckled, cutting her off, “it’s on the house.  You’re doing something really nice for a friend.  You deserve one, too.”

Roseluck smiled and slid a few bits across the counter.  “Thank you, Pinkie.  I’m sure she—I’m sure we’ll really appreciate it.”

As the customer turned to leave, Pinkie found herself calling out.  “Hey, Rose?”

She turned back.  “Yes?”

Almost like she was in a dream, Pinkie felt the words slip from her mouth.  “Do you think I could come with you?”

Roseluck brightened.  “Oh, of course!  I didn’t know you were close to Daisy.  She hasn’t had any other visitors.”

“Oh, I’m close to everypony,” Pinkie dismissed casually.  She dashed back into the storeroom to tell Mr. Cake she was stepping out for a bit, and then rejoined Roseluck.  Her mind kept wandering, too occupied for casual conversation as the two walked across town.

Why had she asked to come along?  Why did it feel so necessary to her?

Before she had a chance to sort through any of her thoughts, the pair were already at their destination and walking into the lobby of Ponyville Medical.  The nurse on duty gave them directions to Daisy’s room, and they headed down the hallway.

As they walked down the hall, Pinkie kept glancing into open doorways, seeing ponies in all states.  Some awake, some asleep, some sitting quietly, some in obvious pain—but almost every one alone.

Rose knocked lightly on the open door to Daisy’s room, and the flower-peddling pony looked up and smiled to see the two visitors.  “Rose, what a surprise!  And Pinkie, too.”

“Hey, Daisy, how are you feeling?” Roseluck asked.

The mare in the bed grimaced and held up her heavily casted leg.  “I guess I’m not as young as I used to be,” she said with a shrug.  “I probably shouldn’t have been trying to move that box by myself anyway.”

“Hey, I brought you a treat,” Rose said quickly before retrieving the box from her back and opening it on the bedside table.  Daisy gasped in delight at the sight of her gift.

Pinkie stood back, silently.  She had seen Daisy’s expression change from passive boredom to friendly joy when her friend had arrived, but now the injured mare’s face was blissfully happy as she took a bite of the cupcake.  As the conversation with Roseluck continued, Dasiy’s face was happier and her eyes seemed brighter.  Pinkie looked back over her shoulder to the hallway.  Out there were dozens of ponies, and almost all of them were alone.

Something inside Pinkie clicked.

“Hey, girls?” she said slowly.  “I just remembered that I need to be somewhere.  Sorry to run—hope you feel better, Daisy!”  As the other two ponies just shrugged to each other, Pinkie galloped back out of the building and across town.

Yes, Pound and Pumpkin had left her.  Yes, the foals she had known had grown up and moved on with their lives.  Yes, she felt like she had less good to be accomplished these days and fewer ponies to entertain.

But there were still ponies who needed her.

Mr. Cake looked up in surprise as Pinkie burst into the shop, panting heavily.  “Pinkie, what—”

“Sorry, sorry,” she blurted out.  “Look, real quick, what would you charge me for cupcakes?  Like, a lot of them?”

Her sometime-father-figure’s mouth worked up and down as he tried to do mental calculations under pressure.  “I, uh—we—I suppose I could call it three for a bit.”

Pinkie’s face scrunched up as she did her own math.  “Okay, three for a bit, call it forty cupcakes, that’s, um…”

“Um, Pinkie, what’s this all about?  Got something big planned?”

“You might say that…” she said, running off in search of a quill and paper.  It might make a small dent in her weekly salary, and she might have to work with the doctors at Ponyville Medical to make sure everything was allowed, but the results would surely be worth it.

Deep down, Pinkie was a party pony.  That might take many different shapes, but her one mission was to make sure that ponies were enjoying life.  As she pondered over how much joy the simple gesture of a cupcake could give to a pony who was in a miserable situation, Pinkie realized that her morning’s aimless melancholy had lifted.  She felt like she had a new mission—a new purpose.  She had something she could give, something she could do for ponies who needed it.

She had to go make some ponies smile, smile, smile.

Rainbow Dash

Rainbow Dash knew she was in trouble.  The “Daring Do Dive-Bomb” had gone spectacularly wrong.  As soon as she had clipped that tiny cloud at nearly the speed of sound and had her balance and line completely thrown off, she had known it wouldn’t end well.  The foliage below was approaching far too fast, and all of her efforts to pull up wouldn’t prevent the inevitable.  All she could do was try to make the crash landing as soft as possible, hope she didn’t do anything too permanent to herself this time, and let her mind wander as time seemed to slow down.

One would think she would be past getting into wrecks of this magnitude by now.  Seven months had passed since she had been accepted into the Wonderbolts as a junior member, and most of her time was spent training with the team, not dreaming up new tricks.  Even when she could spare the time, she couldn’t seem to get away from her fans.  Young pegasi followed her relentlessly to watch her practice, hounding her for tips and autographs.  Only by sneaking away could she find solitude.

Of course, the flip side of that arrangement was that nopony would be around to help her back up after this crash.  Rainbow grunted under the strain of trying to pull up from her dive.  Her wings felt like they were on fire, and she spared a passing thought for how bad they would feel after she finally hit the ground.

What would happen if she seriously hurt herself now?  Before, the only ponies who cared about her recovery were her friends, and there wasn’t any pressure on her schedule.  Now, though?  Her coaches would hound her in the hospital, taking cuts out of her salary and show fees for the time off.  They might forbid her from practicing away from the Academy altogether, and she’d never know another waking moment away from the public!

Rainbow threw her hooves in front of her face, trying to protect her goggles as much as herself as she broke through the top layer of the trees.  The passing sticks and leaves lashed at her body and wings, throwing her into a spin.  She tried to curl herself up, bracing for the impact with the ground.

It wasn’t that she didn’t like the fans.  Far from it.  She adored the attention—needed it, really.  The cheer of the crowd was like food and water to her.  She could probably survive for a week off the high she got from performing in front of thousands of ponies.  But it wasn’t everything to her.  The more she flew with her squadmates and for the benefit of other ponies, the more she began to miss the simple joy of flying by herself—for herself.  Little moments like this were all she could afford anymore.

The stuntpony’s mind returned to the moment just in time for her to flinch before landing.  Her desperate attempt to pull up had done just enough to turn her deadly plummet into an uncontrolled glide, so instead of leaving a crater, she slammed into the ground at a shallow angle, furrowing the soil where she hit.  She could feel the thump of impact and the sensation of deflecting off trees and rocks, but the experience was oddly painless.

After what seemed like an eternity, Rainbow finally came to a halt.  Raising her head gingerly, she spat out the chunks of loam that had collected in her mouth.  She waggled her various limbs to take stock of her injuries and realized she was going to be quite bruised tomorrow morning.  She probably had a sprained knee in one of her back legs, but her wings were intact.  The thought drew a long, agitated sigh from the downed pegasus; she was grateful that a hospital stay wasn’t in her near future but frustrated at the crash all the same.

She let her head drop back down into the dirt.  Why was she still doing this?  It wasn’t like she had to prove herself any more; she was just one step away from being a part of the greatest flight team in Equestria.  So why was she out here pushing herself?  Why was she still failing so spectacularly?  Rainbow sat up and took off her goggles, turning them over in her hooves sadly.  One of the lenses had been popped out and lost somewhere along her fifty-yard skid, and the whole assembly was battered and scuffed.  She sighed, dropping the goggles into her lap.  Her squadmates would never let her hear the end of it.  She already had a reputation of flying on the edge of control as it was.

Why was she in the Wonderbolts at all?  Nopony ever heard about Soarin’ or Fleetfoot going snout-first into the dirt.  Did they ever have these sorts of days?  Was she truly good enough to belong?  Rainbow moved her rear leg gingerly, wincing at the tweaked joint’s protests.

Was it all worth it?

She slumped onto her back and stared up at the sky.  Was she really worth the Wonderbolts, or was she just killing time until some other, better pegasus could replace her?  For her whole life she had wanted to make the top tier, the major leagues.  Was it really all it was cracked up to be?  All the other members of the junior squad seemed to come to stunt flying naturally, but she had to work and sweat and break herself for everything she had.  It wasn’t much consolation to look back and see the thousands upon thousands of pegasi she had surpassed, because all she could ever see was always the five or six between her and her dreams.

As the battered mare lay on the ground, lost in thought, she heard the beat of running hooves approaching.  She arched her neck up to look around and saw an earth pony colt racing up to her with an excited grin on his face.

“Ohmygosh, are you okay?” he panted.

Rainbow tried to look nonchalant but winced slightly as she shrugged.  “Eh, I’ll be fine.  It’s not the worst crash I’ve had.”

“Oh, good.  I’ve been watching you fly all morning, and I was hoping you’d land.”

She rolled over and sat up so she could look at him while upright.  “Why’s that?  Want an autograph?”

The tiny pony beamed at her.  “Oh, would you pleaseohpleaseohplease—?”  He coughed, composing himself.  “I mean, I’d love one, but that’s not why I wanted to meet you.”

She looked him over.  “Okay, so why did you want to meet me?”

“Well…” he hesitated, rubbing a hoof through his mane self-consciously.  “I wanted to tell you that you inspire me.”

Rainbow jerked back slightly, caught off guard.  “Okay,” she said slowly, “how did I do that?”

“You’re smaller than all the other Wonderbolts.”

The pegasus cocked her head.  “Well, yeah, I guess I am, but I don’t follow ya.”

The colt scuffed the ground awkwardly with a hoof.  “Well, I know that you’re not as strong as the other flyers, and you’ve had to work twice as hard as everypony else,” he said.  “For the longest time, I’ve wanted to be a doctor, but I’m not that smart in school.  Everypony else in my class gets better grades than me, and ponies have told me that I’m probably not going to get good enough marks to be a doctor.  You’ve probably had ponies tell you stuff like that, too, huh?”

Rainbow nodded solemnly.  “I don’t know how many times…”

He nodded.  “Well, I know that I’m gonna have to work twice as hard as anypony else in my class, but I’m not giving up, because you don’t give up.”

Something in Rainbow’s mind nudged her, reminding her that this chance meeting would never have happened if not for the crash.  The flyer felt herself getting slightly misty-eyed as she looked at the determined colt and then back down at her fractured goggles.  She reached out and draped the broken goggles over his neck.  “Here ya go.  For you.”

“Oh, wow, thanks!  Um… but why?”

The pegasus stood back up, groaning under her breath as she straightened her leg out.  She looked down at the earth pony and smiled.  “Because sometimes things don’t work,” she answered, looking back at the trench she had carved in the forest floor.  “Sometimes, you screw up.  Or life just happens in a way you don’t expect it to.  When that happens, you just gotta work harder.”

He followed her line of sight and whistled under his breath.  “Wow, I didn’t know you crashed quite so hard.  What happened?”

“A lesson.”  Rainbow Dash reached out and tapped the colt’s hoof with her own before leaping painfully into the air.  “Keep dreaming,” she called back to the young pony who stood waving energetically to her as she rose.

The Wonderbolt Academy was just visible on the horizon.  She would have to take a day or two off to rest up, but once she could find the time, Rainbow knew she’d be right back out over the hills, trying her new tricks once again.  No matter how many wrecks or how much effort, she was going to make the Wonderbolts’ main roster.

Even if it was only so a young colt could become a doctor someday.

Rarity

Rarity stood on the blackened floorboards, completely unconcerned with the ash and soot that was collecting on her coat.  She stared around her with unbelieving eyes at the bombed-out wreckage that used to be her shop.  Smoky walls and melted tools, charred ends of fabric bolts and broken furniture.  She stubbornly choked back a sob as she set a dummy back upright on its stand, the metal burnished and warped by the heat of the flames.

My dream… she thought sadly.  Had it been a candle falling over in the night that had caused this?  Nopony knew, and she silently thanked Celestia that neither she nor Sweetie Belle had been hurt, but the damage was just as much to her heart as it was to the Boutique.

Twilight had arrived quickly with a group of unicorns, but the best they could manage was to contain the fire while water was fetched from the lake reservoir.  Twilight was extremely skilled, and she had managed to keep the house intact and structurally sound—though at the cost of sacrificing everything in the shop.  Now, twenty-four hours later, the Carousel Boutique had an ugly hole in its side, a blackened, monstrous gash—and Rarity’s soul could empathize.

She had sunk so much time, effort, and money into her latest order: a full set of ball gowns for Canterlot nobles.  Her entire savings had been wagered on buying the best materials and accessories she could get her hooves on.  She knew the bounty she would reap if they were finished, but now this tragedy left her on the border of destitute.  Without bits to rebuild, she would never finish even one of those gowns in time, and without finishing at least one of those gowns, she would never get the bits she needed to rebuild her dream.

Worse, there wasn’t anypony she could go to for help.  Her family was, as per the norm, on vacation, and even if they had bits to spare, they wouldn’t hear about her tragedy for weeks.  None of her friends were able to assist.  Applejack had enough trouble keeping the farm solvent through the unpredictable growing seasons, and the other girls had never really been involved in business—or concerned with money at all, really.  Though they would gladly do so if they could, none of them had much money to give.  Even going to the Princess herself would likely be a wash.  While Celestia would certainly be compassionate and understanding, she wouldn’t be able to show that kind of favoritism, not even towards the Element of Generosity.

The bank was her last resort, but she had gone to them in the past to get the bits to upgrade her equipment, and she had put the shop itself up as collateral on the loan.  Without even that physical token, there would be no help forthcoming.

Rarity began to sob quietly as she slumped to her haunches on the ash-coated floor.  She didn’t even have her couch anymore…  What would she do now?  She would have to find some sort of work to build her funds back up, by which time she would surely have had to give up the Boutique—give up her home.

Her thoughts turned bitter as she wrestled with the unfairness of it all.  She, who had given so much to others, was to receive nothing.  Well, at least now there wasn’t a conflict, because she had nothing left to give away, nothing to be generous with.  She would have to bite and scratch to try to reclaim her own dream, even though the mere thought of such ruthlessness made her stomach turn.

She gasped and turned at the sound of a stallion politely clearing his throat outside the shop.  She quickly swiped the back of her hooves over her eyes, hoping to make herself at least partially presentable, but knew that it was likely a lost cause at this point.  She walked slowly out of the shop and onto the grass.  “Yes?”

The stallion tipped his fedora to her, an old-fashioned gesture that would have cheered the designer’s heart under any other circumstances.  “I would say ‘good morning,’ Miss Rarity, but I think ‘I’m sorry’ will have to suffice for now.”

Rarity nodded.  “I understand, and thank you.  What may I do for you?”

He shook his head.  “Rather, the other way around, Miss.  You don’t know me, but my name is Blue Chip.  I’m an investor in Canterlot, and I just heard about—about this,” he said, waving a hoof at the damaged Boutique.  “I want to help.”

She smiled dismissively at him.  “That’s a very thoughtful gesture, Blue Chip.  I appreciate the sentiment.”

He said nothing, simply reaching into his saddlebag and pulling out a piece of paper, which he passed to her.  Rarity read the slip, its markings declaring it to be a banker’s check, and felt her legs give out at the sight of the number on it.  She slumped back onto her haunches once again, this time in shock and amazement.  “But,” she protested, “that’s exorbitant!  It’s outrageous!”

Blue Chip smiled.  “It’s a gift, Miss Rarity.”

Tears returned to Rarity’s eyes, this time fueled by relief and joy.  “But—why?”

“A few years back, while I was still in Canterlot University, I was at home for summer break, here in Ponyville.  My sister was just finishing up high school and was all set to go to her senior prom.  We were nothing like wealthy, but the whole family pitched in to try to come up with enough money to buy her a fantastic dress, which we commissioned you to make.”

Comprehension dawned on Rarity.  “I remember,” she whispered.  “Your family said that they wanted something simple, but elegant.  They—they made every request to try to keep it as cheap as possible…”

He nodded.  “Yes, they did.  In the end, it still wasn’t enough, and the money had to go to other necessities.  We told you to stop making it, that we had to cancel the order.  Do you remember what you told us?”

She merely nodded, unable to form words around the lump in her throat.

“You said that you enjoyed working on it so much that you just had to see it worn, and that we shouldn’t worry about the expense.  You said the creation was reward enough and insisted that she take it for nothing.  Not a single bit—even after you had ignored their instructions, making it better than it needed to be.”

Rarity’s eyes closed as a tear worked its way down her cheek.

“You had no way of knowing, but that simple act probably changed my sister’s life.  She felt like a princess in it, and it gave her the courage to ask her crush to the dance. Now they’re married with two foals and live in Manehatten.”

He took a step closer to Rarity, kneeling down to her height.  “You see,” he said, “that’s what I’m giving to.  As payment for a gift that couldn’t possibly have a price, and as an investment in the future.  Everypony knows that you’re one of the most generous ponies around, Miss Rarity.  Even in Canterlot, your name is well known, and everypony agrees that you’d not only give the cloak off your back to a needy pony, but you’d also make him a spare one just because you could.”

He stood back up, gently pulling Rarity to her hooves.  “You’ve given ponies dreams, Miss Rarity.  It’s only right that somepony give you one back.”

As she stood back up, she threw herself onto her benefactor, hugging him tightly.    “I—I just don’t know what to say,” she gasped, tearing up as her breathing got more rapid.  The tensions, emotions, and stresses of the day were swimming inside her, overwhelming her senses and making it hard to think straight.

“Thank you.”  She pulled her head back to look into his eyes—his deep, violet eyes—and gave him a kiss on the forehead.  “Thank you,” she recited as his ears lay back modestly.  “Thank you,” she whispered as she kissed the surprised stallion on the muzzle.

“Oh, n-no, it’s my pleasure,” Blue Chip stammered, blushing fiercely from the touch of the mare’s tongue on his lips and leaning away as much as Rarity’s grasp would allow.

She refused to release him, though.  She felt as though somepony else had taken over her body and she was a mere spectator for what was to follow.  “Would you like to come in for a bit?” she asked quietly, indicating the house at the rear of the Boutique with a nod of her head.  “Everything but the shop is quite safe and undamaged, I assure you.”

Blue Chip stared in confusion, pulling against her.  “I—Rarity, I don’t think I quite understand what’s going on here…”

Something in the back of Rarity’s emotion-addled mind was screaming at her, but she couldn’t make sense of anything at the moment.  “I’m not sure I do, either,” she admitted, “but I think I’d like to find out.  Won’t you come in for a proper thanks?”

He started, finally jerking free of her grasp.  “Wait,” he said, scowling, “is that what this is about?”

Rarity blinked, rather confused herself.  “What what is about, darling?”

“You’re doing”—he flailed a hoof around, lost for words—“this because you want to thank me?  Isn’t that just a bit extreme?”

“I—I…”  The haze fell away from Rarity’s mind as she realized that she had been trying to seduce the poor stallion.  “Oh, oh, Blue Chip, I’m so sorry.  I don’t know what I was thinking.  I swear, I don’t normally do this sort of thing…”

He gave her a sympathetic smile.  “It’s okay.  I’m sure this is all a bit overwhelming.”

She looked up at him.  “I just don’t have anything else left.  There’s nothing I can say ‘thank you’ with.”

“Ah,” he said, nodding.  “I think I get it.  Rarity, you don’t let ponies give you things very often, do you?”

“… let?”

“When somepony tries to give you something, you feel like you have to return the favor, right?”

“I—I suppose I do,” she mused distantly, grimacing at the memory of how she had gone to such lengths to debase herself before royalty for merely offering her a room to stay in.

“Rarity, sometimes being generous means letting others have their way.  It means accepting a gift you don’t feel like you deserve, or simply accepting somepony else’s favor without returning anything.”

“But—isn’t that rather selfish?” she countered.  “Not that I haven’t been that before—Harmony knows I have—but it’s just taking.  It feels… wrong.”

“Not always,” he said.  “Sometimes, letting somepony else have the good feeling of giving a meaningful gift is a gift in itself.”

“Oh, well then,” she sighed.  “I’ve made a proper foal of myself here.”

He smiled at her.  “Don’t let it get you down; we all do things like that.”  His smile turned slightly nervous.  “I, uh—I don’t suppose you’d let me do one more thing for you, would you?”

“What did you have in mind?”

His ears flattened back again.  “Would you allow me to buy you lunch?  Your choice of restaurant.”

Rarity blinked at him.  “Did you enjoy the kiss that much?”

“Uh, heh, yes,” Blue Chip muttered, his blush threatening to take over his entire coat.

She laughed quietly and winked at the stallion.  “Well, you’d have to let me get cleaned up first, of course, but I think I could allow that.  Because that’s just the generous thing to do.”