She was finally coming home today. Everyone had gotten the message and made sure they'd be around. Jack and Diane had made raspberry tarts—her favorite—and Chylene was bringing the woman's cat back now that she could take care of her again, a welcome relief to Chylene's rabbit, no doubt. Spike and Twila finally decided on a simple gesture of flowers and a card signed by everyone they spotted through the town as they ran over to the woman's house.
The last of the group, Isabelle, or Dash, as she preferred, had let them in with a spare key she had from when she had to come here and water plants. They went to work quickly, throwing up decorations, laying out plates, preparing drinks, and it wasn't until Twila received a text did their fervor stop.
"She'll be here soon girls," Twila announced. There was a beat of silence, then she added, "and Spike."
The boy crossed his arms with a sigh, at least glad to be included this time.
"Was startin' ta think she'd never get outta there," Jack said.
"Better she don't head out too quick from something like that, dude." Dash tapped at her elbow in thought. "I mean, you know..."
"We all do," Chylene quietly agreed.
Jack grit her teeth and pushed her Stetson down hard on her head. "Hell," she said, the word not spoken with any heat, but carrying everything that needed said on the matter.
"You guys think it's gonna be bad?" Spike asked. A long pause came to the room, then Diane put a hand on his shoulder.
"Of course not, silly," Pinkie replied, forcing a smile to her face. "When has Rarity done anything bad? Even when she messes up, she messes up with style."
A few more minutes passed, then Twila moved over, turning off the lights as the others hid behind the living room furniture.
From the other room came the turning of a lock. The door opened and there was a familiar click of heels on linoleum tiling.
As soon as the heels came to the threshold of the living room and light flooded their senses when she turned on the ceiling lights, the group lept up, yelling a 'surprise' in unison.
Rarity stumbled back, putting a hand to her heart as she took in everyone.
"Oh, gracious," she said, exhaling. "I wasn't expecting this."
It was brief, but the group did pause when they took in the tailor. Her left side was still the beautiful, vibrant and dazzling woman they knew and love. However, her right was a different story. Dozens of burn scars covered her arms, neck and face—from the doctor's statement, her stomach and legs didn't fare much better—and her normally perfect, precise, violet curled hair was shaved down to the scalp on her burned side; her other remained long, designed to look like a daring side-cut.
Diane stepped forward first. "You should have, silly! I never miss a chance for a party! And 'Rarity's finally back home from the hospital celebration' has a great ring to it!" She grinned, full, bright and hopeful.
Rarity chuckled, reaching for Diane and pausing, realizing it was her right. She brought her left hand forward instead, giving Diane a quick hug.
"Thank you, dear." She turned her attention to Chylene. "I hope my Opalescence hasn't been giving you trouble."
Chylene shook her head, hiding within her long pink hair. "N-no. She got along just fine with the other animals at the shelter."
"She is the moodiest cat. I'm glad you're so wonderful at handling her—you have a gift."
Weakly smiling, Chylene fiddled with her index fingers in thought.
"I appreciate you taking care of my plants, Isabelle," Rarity said, addressing the next in line.
"Oh, yeah, totally," Dash agreed, letting her legal name slide from Rarity's lips without any repercussions. For once.
"We made you a card," Spike blurted out, handing it to her. Rarity skimmed over it, reading the names thoughtfully. She gave Spike a pat on his head.
"That's very thoughtful, Spikie. You know just how to pick up a lady when she's feeling down."
"That's not the only thing we made," Twila said. "We might have some treats for you in the kitchen."
Rarity's eyes sparkled and she laughed. "Wonderful!" Clapping her hands together, she looked over everyone in the group. "No time like the present, then. Let's indulge!"
There was no holding back during it, diets be damned. The tarts were gone within ten minutes. The two bottles of wine—and one bottle of sparkling grape juice for Spike—were gone a mere five minutes after that. After a bit more revelry, Rarity finally looked at them all with a warm, gentle smile that did at least a bit to offset the now garish nature of her right side.
"That was a lovely meal, everyone. I'm grateful for you all taking the time away from your hectic schedules to come and visit."
"Of course," Twila agreed with a nod. "This is more important than any tome."
"It's still delightful to me." She shut her eyes briefly and put a delicate hand to her mouth, suppressing a yawn. "That said, I'm quite weary after a day like today. Perhaps we can reconvene sometime soon?"
Twila seemed thoughtful. "Well, we could, I guess. I brought some movies though, in case you wanted someone around tonight. Or we could just talk a bit."
"Why would we need to talk? What's done is done, after all."
Jack clenched her arms tightly together at that, but said nothing, merely being a fly on the wall.
"Ok. Well... if you need anything, anything at all, call," Twila said.
"You'll be the first to know, dear," Rarity replied.
They left, one after another, Twila, then Dash, followed by Spike and Chylene, then, lastly, Dianne. Soon, the only two left in the tailor's house where Jack and Rarity herself.
"I'm surprised you haven't left yet," Rarity commented. "Considering it's almost time to milk, is it not?"
"Someone's gotta help clean up," Jack answered, already at work on the dishes. "Mac can handle a night takin' care of what he needs to. Besides." She looked evenly at Rarity. "Ya know why I ain't left yet."
Rarity scoffed, but said nothing else to the farmer as she took down streamers and a small, silver banister from the kitchen's entryway.
"It hurt?" Jack asked.
"Just a bit sensitive. Better than the start of the month."
Jack made a noncommittal grunt in reply, focusing on the task at hand. When she was done with that, she took to sweeping.
"So, ya jus' gonna pretend none of this happened?"
Rarity paused at Jack's comment. "What do you mean?"
"I know ya. I don't get ya sometimes, but I know ya. How are ya not sayin' somethin' here?"
"Would theatrics change it? No," she curtly answered.
"Theatrics wouldn't. But neither does keepin' everythin' in ya." Jack seemed on the verge of saying something else, then relented, throwing the last load in the dishwasher. "Tea?" she asked.
"How long do you plan to stay?" Rarity asked, her warmer expression dying a bit at the farmer's persistence.
"Until we get some things cleared up."
"What—" She noticed how loud her tone was and dialed it back a bit. "What needs cleared up?"
Jack searched Rarity's cabinets until she found the kettle. Filling it with water, she tossed it on the burner and finally whipped around to face Rarity.
"I know what happened," Jack said. No judgement behind the words, simply pure, unspoken fact.
"So does the whole town," Rarity countered. Accepting that Jack wasn't going anywhere, she moved to sit down at the kitchen table and stared dumbly at her ruined arm.
"They know half the story. Ya got caught in a fire at the school."
"That's the whole story. I went there to pick up my sister from detention and made a stop in the lavatory to powder my nose. By the time I heard the fire alarm..."
"Half," Jack repeated. Her hands had tightened on the edge of the counter and she had to force herself to relax them.
"I don't—"
"Bloom got out from the hospital coupla weeks before you did."
"How's—"
"She breathed in a lot of smoke an' ash, but she'll live."
Rarity nodded thoughtfully as the kettle let out a loud whistle. Jack set tea bags and poured each of them a cup then brought them over to the table. She walked to a small jar on the counter and withdrew a few sugar cubes, putting one in Rarity's drink and two in her own.
"She told me. Everythin'."
Rarity, again, nodded at the revelation. "Did she tell anyone else?"
"No."
Rarity took her teabag out and placed it on her saucer. "Keep it that way."
"Ya saved her life."
"Perhaps."
"Ain't no 'perhaps,' 'bout it. Don't give me that. Why lie about it?"
"Because who do you think started the fire?" Rarity countered, taking a sip of her drink.
"On accident. She threw somethin' still burnin' in the trash."
"Accident or no, she'd be expelled. It's easier to lie in this case."
Jack remained quiet, staring down at her drink. Rarity paused, her own on-flight to her lips.
"Your drink will get cold if you leave it sitting there, dear."
"How?" she asked. "How are ya not furious at her?"
"It wasn't her fault. You yourself said it was an accident."
Jack put her hands to her forehead, wiping her face. "She took somethin' from ya that ain't never comin' back. My kin hurt ya that bad an it—" Her voice cracked. She swallowed, sighing. "I don't even know how I can ever repay ya."
"You don't need to."
"Don't say that. At least tell me how ya really feel."
"You've seen how I've felt all day, Jack."
Sighing, Jack rose, taking a few steps across the floor. "I've known ya for a long, long time. An' 'cause of that, I can tell when yer doin' things."
"What things?" Rarity questioned, still keeping her calm, ladylike demeanor as she took another drink of tea.
"Deflectin' the issue, saw that a time or two when the girls were askin' ya questions about the whole mess. Not that they picked at it too hard."
"A lesson you could learn," she curtly replied. "Perhaps I just do not wish to talk of it."
"They're too soft with ya; they don't know ya gotta handle ya like they handle me. That's part of the reason I'm here right now. I know I gotta talk with ya if we're gonna help ya."
"Yes, I'm sure I need help," she dryly replied. "And the other part?"
"Because I'm..." She put her hands behind her back and hummed. "I ain't even sure how to say anythin' on it. I look at ya an' there's a whole mess in me."
"Jack?"
She put her hands, now unsure where they needed to go, to her temple, thinking intently. "It's like, I'm angry at ya for lyin'. Grateful 'bout it too. Bloom wouldn't be 'round if ya hadn't..." She sighed. "An' I see ya sittin' there, scarred ta hell but standin' proud, well, I feel proud too. Proud I know ya, proud I grew up with ya, proud. But I know ya. An' I know this is eatin' at ya, so jus' say somethin'."
Rarity grit her teeth and rose. "What, pray tell, should I say? That I hate you? I hate what your sister did to me?"
Jack stood, an uncompromising stone in Rarity's path. "If that's the truth."
"I don't know what the truth is," she finally admitted.
"I know one thing fer sure. Lookin' at ya, even now. Especially now, more than ever. There's one thing that hits me though the mess I'm feelin'."
Rarity said nothing, looking up to Jack, waiting for her to continue.
"Jus' how beautiful ya are."
She smiled and gave a small roll of her eyes. “Of course, darling.”
“Rare,” Jack said quietly. “Look at me.”
She did. Jack still stood, looking down at her. She stepped a hair closer.
“Yer beautiful.”
Rarity nodded.
“Yer beautiful,” Jack said once more, her voice lowering as she continue to stare at her.
Rarity looked at her, growing a hair uncomfortable.
“Yer beautiful.”
There was a small crack in Rarity's expression. It hardened and she scowled.
“Don't you do this to me, Jack.”
“Yer. Beautiful.”
There came a silence again to Rarity. She looked down at the floor and took a heavy breath.
“Listen ta me. Yer beautiful.”
The scowl returned and she snapped forward, shoving Jack as hard as she could back.
“Stop. Stop right now!” she snapped, tears welling in her eyes. “How can you say something so awful to me?”
Jack watched her for a moment, then stepped forward, closer.
“Yer beautiful,” she whispered, putting a hand gently to Rarity's ruined, scarred cheek. Jack's calluses gently rested against her naked flesh and she shivered, not from pain, rather, she simply didn’t know the farmer's touch could be that tender. Nor did she know that Jack's lips, Jack's cracked lips could meet her own with such love.
She broke; Rarity began bawling, sobbing so loud she began coughing. Tears fell, ran down her cheeks as she held onto Jack, who remained her rock, stroking what remained of her once magnificent hair and pressing her forehead against the tailor’s.
As Jack held Rarity in her arms and the dam she had built up crumbled, she knew now, more than ever. One way or another, Rarity would heal.
