Love-locked and Breathless

Through the tank’s glass, the bubbles from the splash die down, revealing Trixie, still bound by chains underwater. With a look of concentration, she picks up a nearby padlock with her magic - a real padlock - and starts to… wait…

“Is she picking the lock?” you look to Whipchat, whose face is aghast, “Is she doing my spell trick?”

“I… I specifically told her not to use those!” he chokes, “What is she thinking!?”

“Hey, I’m talking to you!”

“Oh.” the hysterical landlord looks back at you, “Of course. She’s been practicing your unlocking spell since she met you, but I didn’t want her to use it on stage! She should be using the fakes like I told her to!”

You look back toward Trixie, still submerged. She’s still holding the first padlock in her aura, her eyes tightly shut as she focuses, willing it to open as she tries the pins and tumblers inside it. Her silvery mane and tail slowly drifts to and fro in the water. An occasional bubble escapes from her snout as she tries to concentrate on the task of freeing herself.

To your surprise, the lock suddenly opens under her manipulation, freeing the fore-hoof that it bound. One down, three to go.

“Did she just..? She actually did it right!”

You do a quick recount in your head; she must have been under for at least thirty seconds now. Thirty seconds and she’s only done one padlock. That’s a minimum of two minutes if each padlock takes that long. And she’s already working on the second.

Ten slow seconds tick by as she tries to undo the second padlock. Then another ten. Then another ten. She hasn’t unlocked it. She should’ve finished with that padlock by now, but she hasn’t. Instead, she shakes it in sheer frustration, panicked by its refusal to open.

Suddenly, her chest convulses as a wave of desperation ripples through her. Trixie brings her free hoof to her mouth for a moment, fighting back the urge to breathe out, staying as still as possible until the convulsion passes. Then, she turns her attention back to the padlock, trying to undo it as quickly as possible.

The realisation of what’s happening grips you like an icy claw; “She’s not gonna make it.”

“Oh, please don’t say that…”

“You don’t get it,” you explain to Whipchat, “She’s being too rough with the lock, and she’s rushing to get it open! You can’t just rush lock-picking! She’ll never get it at this rate!”

And if that wasn’t enough to cause panic… she’s just passed one and a half minutes. And that’s when she gives up.

Trixie’s magic aura stops, letting the padlock drift downwards. Instead of the padlocks, she’s trying other, just as futile, means to escape. She pulls on the chains holding her down, tugging uselessly against them in an attempt to reach the surface out of her reach. Trying to lift the weight against the water resistance proves just as hopeless. With a frantic shake of her head, she signals with a cutting motion across her neck.

Stop the show. Stop everything. Help.

“Get her out!” you bark, “Get her out now!”

“But… but how?” the landlord (or in this case, health and safety specialist) replies, “I gave her those silver fakes just in case something like this happened! It’s her fault she’s got herself into this mess!”

With a curse, you gallop onto the stage, charging full-pelt towards the tank. But not even a running buck at full speed was enough to even chip the sturdy glass. You try to push the container over - maybe you could spill her out - but it’s too heavy to even budge.

You look fearfully through the glass, and see Trixie’s violet eyes staring back at you, her free hoof pressed against the glass wall that separates you from her, Trixie from air. This is the first time she’d seen you since your argument with her. And now she looks like it’s the last time she’ll ever see you.

No. You’re not going to let it end like this.

You focus your magic aura through the glass, through the water, picking up the padlock she had failed to undo. It’s difficult to get a good feeling with all the water surrounding it; the pins and tumblers feel so sluggish. It was a wonder that Trixie was able to unlock just one. It eventually opened with a muted click, freeing her other fore-hoof. Two down, two to go.

But it’s taken far too long. It’s nearly impossible to get a decent grip on the padlock through the water, and trying to focus on it through glass just makes it harder, not to mention how far away the padlocks are - you’re used to unlocking them far closer to you.

You turn your head back to the stage-curtains, hoping Whipchat would’ve thought of something by now. He’s gone. He’s ran away and left poor Trixie for dead.

The desperate bashing of her hooves against the glass only makes the situation more grave. You can’t tell if she’s whimpering or calling your name; all you see is another burst of precious air break from her lips.

You need to undo those locks faster. You need to get closer to them.

You need to get in there.

Racing around to the side of the tank with the ladder, you haul yourself to the very top of it. Stopping for the briefest of moments to prepare yourself, you take a deep, sharp breath before plunging into the water yourself.

Your heart pounds in your chest, the water filling your ears causing your rapid heartbeats to thump inside your head. You ignore it, diving straight to the bottom of the watery prison and picking up a padlock that binds one of Trixie’s hind legs.

This one’s much easier. Granted, the water still made the lock itself awkward, but at least you were close enough to use your magic to its full potential. As you focus on working your spell, a blue foreleg flails helplessly nearby. Poor Trixie needs something, anything, to keep her mind off the pain in her lungs.

You reach out with a hoof of your own, grabbing and squeezing hers tightly in reassurance. Letting her know you’re there. Letting her know everything’s going to be alright. Her hoof squeezes back.

Oh Celestia, if you can hear this, please let everything be alright…

The third padlock loosens with almost no trouble at all, despite the usual slow inelegance the water forces upon it. Three down, one to go.

But there’s never enough time. Not when Trixie’s last morsel of willpower breaks. Her panic-stricken body won’t stop shaking and twisting in an attempt to writhe herself loose. Her newly freed hind leg starts kicking and stomping at the final padlock in a dire and futile attempt to break it. She brings a hoof to her mouth, but that does nothing to stop the flow of bubbles spewing forth. Trixie needs to breathe right now, but her panicking, her convulsing, makes it impossible for you to get a decent grip on the last lock. But there’s no way to calm her down by this point…

Unless…

You rise up from the mess of chains at the tank’s bottom, bringing yourself to the same level as your friend. Her eyes give you a final, distressed look, not in panic, but in sadness. Almost like she’s trying to say goodbye. You grip her by the shoulders, keeping her still for what you’re about to do.

Ugh, she’s gonna kill you for this.

You push forward, locking your lips with hers, forming a tight seal. Then you gently, slowly exhale every reserve of air you have in your lungs. At first she struggles against your advances, but when it occurs to her what you’re doing, she clings onto you tightly for dear life.

It wasn’t much. It wasn’t the amount of air she needed. But it was enough for now. You break your connection with her, sinking down to undo the final padlock. You aren’t sure whether it’s the lack of air you’ve just given up, or the blurs in the water playing tricks with your eyes, but you could’ve sworn you saw a flush of red behind her thankful smile.

Wow, you must be getting really dizzy if that’s what you thought. You’d go back up for air, but that would only waste time. Something Trixie doesn’t have.

The padlock’s as awkward as the others, but you’re getting used to compensating for their sluggishness. The pins and tumblers are aligning with no trouble at all. Meanwhile, Trixie keeps as still as possible, conserving every last drop of air that you gave her until you‘ve done what you need to do.

You’re stung by the sudden, protesting pain in your chest from staying under too long yourself. Your muscles tighten from the shock, and your concentration wavers. Your empty lungs have only made the situation worse, but the thought that keeps you going is that the air you sacrificed had gone to a much more needing cause. The sooner you finish this, the sooner you can breathe again. The sooner she can breathe. With a new wave of determination, you pick up that final lock, and twist the insides of it just right...

Click.

It’s done! You pull the padlock away from the chains and free her leg. The very second she’s free, she makes a bolt for the surface. You kick off the bottom of the tank, swimming upwards alongside her.

The surface breaks with a splash and a heaving gasp of air from each of you. You hear what sounded like thunder over Trixie’s coughing as you hold on to the side of the tank. Trixie’s holding onto you tightly as you lift yourself out of the water, and onto the ladder leading out. She tries to follow, but she’s far too shaken from the whole ordeal. She only manages to make it halfway down the ladder before falling the rest of the way, catching you on the way down. You both land as exhausted, wet, gasping heaps on the stage floor.

It’s only then you realise that the thunder you were hearing was the thunderous applause from everypony in the audience. The crowd’s going wild. Those rich idiots all thought it was part of the act.

It just goes to show, money doesn’t equal intelligence.

But that doesn’t matter. They wanted a show, they sure as heck had one. As soon as you help Trixie to her hooves, you accompany her back to the apartment for her to get some rest. And some warm, dry towels. And maybe a hot drink.