A leader is strong.
A leader knows not to let their followers see them sweat or show fear. By being rigid, determined, and indomitable in the face of wild dangers or certain death. By exhibiting these traits, the leader becomes more than just alive. They become an icon.
They become a legend.
Spitfire sat in the back of the dark, quiet bar, her glass filled with an untouched burning cinnamon whiskey. Her attention wasn't directed at any of the other patrons of the bar, as she ensured that nopony recognized her in the hidden corner of the room. She had already inspected them thoroughly. She could not trust herself to be strong tonight. She stared at her reflection in the liquid, her mind completely devoid of thought. There wasn't much to think about. The facts were the facts. If she began to think about it, the emotions would rise to the surface. She would be weak. Her Wonderbolts couldn't see that. She would be remembered as a strong leader. As would her replacement.
She just wanted to get this over with already, just like the operation. The month of recovery in the hospital had passed slowly and many of her friends had come to visit. Not a single pony had chosen to address the elephant in the room, and that was fine by Spitfire. It had made the conversations easier. It avoided a topic where there was nothing to say. Nothing to think about. Nothing to feel about. It had helped her look strong. It had made her seem like she came to terms with what happened.
She didn’t want them to make it real, even if their eyes had focused intently on the side of her body that was missing something. She still felt it there in the form of little pricks and tingles that were tricks of her mind. The ghost of her wing had still persisted and she wasn’t ready for it to leave just yet, like a filly outgrowing her imaginary friend. For now, she just wanted to live like nothing had changed at all.
Her gaze moved to the door as she noticed Soarin enter the bar. He laughed and pointed at several of the patrons, as if he had visited the bar on many occasions. She shook her head. Soarin always had a knack for getting on her nerves. Whether it was his lack of punctuality, his crass attitude, his constant appetite, or naive optimism, Soarin was a sort of yin to Spitfire's yang.
Tonight, she would not find herself annoyed that he was 20 minutes late. She was just trying to stay completely neutral. She didn’t want to notice the right side of her body was cold.
"Heya, Spitfire," Soarin said, approaching the table. "What's with all the dramatics? The only time I ever see you at a bar is to celebrate."
"What? I can't go to a bar every now and then?" she snapped back. "Anyway, I didn't call you here to hear your sass. We have business to attend to."
Soarin nodded and took the seat facing her.
"Fine, fine. Yeesh. Touchy today I see. What's up?" he said, dropping the casual act.
Spitfire opened her mouth, then found herself unable to look Soarin in the eyes. He looked at her with concern and rapt attention, but her words were caught in her throat. Her eyes moved down to to the glass of liquor in front of her.
There's nothing to think. Nothing to feel. Nothing to it, but to say it.
"I'm resigning as Wonderbolt captain," Spitfire says, more to the drink in front of her than to Soarin. "You'll be acting captain now."
Silence filled the space in-between the two Wonderbolts. Spitfire picked up her glass of whiskey and downed it in one gulp. It burned her way down her throat, cleansing her palate of the poisonous words that cut her mouth on the way out.
"Say something," she said in a low tone, almost as if she were growling.
"I.. uh, sorry," he said, sitting back in his chair. "It's just... It's a shock for me. Why? Can’t you just-"
"Do you get it or not?" she barked.
Soarin reached a hoof across the table, but Spitfire only stared at him.
"You know everything you'll have to do as captain, right?" she asked.
"Well, yeah. I mean, of course. But, are you okay?" he replied.
"I'm fine," she said. "Now, you can probably get Dash to help out a bit more. I think she'd be a great Captain if anything happens to you. Train her hard and be ruthless. She needs a bit of a kick in the rear sometimes. And make sure everyone wears the safety equipment during practices too. We can't afford another bolt to leave. As much as I like this batch of reserves, I doubt many would fill your shoes."
Soarin watched his friend oddly, as if he was seeing a ghost of somepony he once knew.
"You might need to round on Fleetfoot. She hates the equipment, but I don't think there's much room for that option now. You'll need to be hard on them, Soarin. You'll need to be strong for them. They need a leader, and a leader can't crumble under pressure, got it?"
Spitfire's eyes dug into Soarin and he remained quiet.
"Got it?" she repeated herself.
"I think I understand," said Soarin.
"Good," she said, her eyes moving back down to her drink. "Then, in that case, you're dismissed. I'm going to collect my things from my office and locker on Monday and then it's yours."
Spitfire remained quiet, but he didn't budge an inch.
"Spitfire, you know I'm around if you ever need to talk, right?" Soarin asked.
Spitfire didn't say a word and Soarin retracted his outstretched hoof.
"Alright," he said, failing to hide the pain in his voice. "That's fine."
He rose to his hooves and began to walk away from the booth. Spitfire's eyes rose to where her friend sat, then to the door.
"Soarin?" Spitfire said, her voice beginning to betray her.
She closed her eyes, recomposing herself.
'Don't think about it,' she thought to herself. 'It's just business. You're a leader. Act like one.'
"Yeah?" Soarin said, his voice gentle and tender.
"Not a word to anypony else. I want this to be quick and quiet," Spitfire said.
Soarin took a step forward, but Spitfire looked away to her drink again. He stopped, frozen for a moment, before answering.
"Fine," he said, before turning and exiting the bar.
Spitfire sat in her office, one stuffed box of belongings by the door. She was somewhat surprised by how easy it was to strip the office of her existence. Now it was just as bare as the day that it was given to her by the last Wonderbolt captain, and she would shortly pass the keys to Soarin.
The last thing to pack was directly in front of her, sitting on the desk. A photo from one of the most recent flight shows. Rainbow Dash, Fleetfoot, Soarin and the rest of the gang, all lined up, covered with sweat, and laughing heartily from a job well done. She remembered she framed it because she thought her hair didn't look terrible after a show for once. Now she stared at it blankly, trying not to think about why it was so hard to remove it from her desk.
Her mind was blank as she rose from her seat, and mechanically grabbed the photo. Trotting to her box of belongings, she eased the photo inside. And now, she was allowed to leave. The last thing to do was to leave the facility. Then she would be allowed to think. She could think about why her sides were colder than they used to be. She could think about what her new career options were. She could think about never being able to--
Spitfire shook her head and took the box onto her back. She splayed her wing to gather her balance, but fell instantly. Her new right stump did nothing to help give the mare balance. She grunted under her breath, anger rising in her chest. Each and every breath she took burned with internal anguish as she rose to her hooves again. She returned the belongings to her box, that would be hidden in the attic until a day that she could face these without having to be strong. She took a deep breath, and released the anger like a dragon puffing soot from its mouth.
She slumped the box back onto her back, then pushed out of the office. Standing outside were Rainbow Dash, Soarin, and Fleetfoot, fully dressed in uniform. Spitfire shut the office door behind her.
"So," began Soarin. "This is it?"
Spitfire hummed to herself, then looked to her two other teammates.
"You know, we'd be happy to have you on as a personal trainer," said Fleetfoot. "Just because you can't fly anymore doesn't-"
"Right now I need some time to gather my bearings," interrupted Spitfire. "I'll see my Mom. Visit family, and try to find some new normal. After that, who knows. I'll give you guys a call."
The three Wonderbolts and the half-pegasus stood in silence. Spitfire reached into the box on her back and pulled out a small ring of keys with her mouth. She tossed them to Soarin. He caught them with a hoof.
"The chair squeaks," she said. "If you lean too far back, it will fall. Don't crack your head open."
Soarin nodded, returning her gaze to Spitfire. Rainbow stepped forward, opening her mouth to say something, but closed it. Spitfire eyed Rainbow Dash curiously. Spitfire couldn't help but feel pride for the Element of Harmony in front of her. She’d pushed and guided her since day one. She respected the mare immensely, but Spitfire did her best to never show it. If Rainbow knew she had a soft spot for her, then it could show preferential treatment. This was her last day as a leader. She needed to stay strong.
"Yeah, Rookie?" Spitfire said. "Spit it out already. I got a balloon outside with my name on it."
Rainbow Dash opened her mouth, but closed it again.
“Permission to speak freely, Captain?” Dash asked.
“Of course, Rookie,” she replied.
Rainbow opened her mouth, but her words were still stuck in her throat. She closed her eyes, took two long steps forward and wrapped Spitfire in her hooves. Spitfire's eyes opened wide in shock. She looked down at the mare clinging to her tightly, not knowing how to react.
"I wouldn't be half the flier I am today if it wasn't for you, Ma'am," Dash said. "Thank you. For everything."
Spitfire felt a dampness against her neck were Rainbow buried her head. She felt a quivering in her chest. She closed her eyes, trying to regain control of herself.
"Now none of that, rookie," Spitfire said. "You did it all yourself. I just showed you that it was in you."
But Rainbow didn't let go as Spitfire wanted. Spitfire felt herself losing control of her stability. She took a deep breath, and knew that she wouldn't be able to get out of this situation so easily. She unfurled her only wing and rested it against Rainbow's back, pulling her close. Spitfire felt the tears running down her neck, but did not say a word. She chose not to think about them or what they meant.
"You know I'm always here if you need me, Dash," Spitfire whispered.
The Element of Harmony nodded, her grip easing. Dash reached a hoof up and wiped her eyes.
"Yes," she said. "I know."
Spitfire smiled and shook her head.
"Getting easy on me already, Rainbow Crash?" Spitfire said, her voice losing its gentle edge. "I'm Captain until I leave this cloud. Got that?"
The mare fell in line with Soarin and Fleetfoot.
"Ma'am, with all due respect, you're wrong," Fleetfoot said.
Spitfire raised an eyebrow.
"Oh?" she said.
"You'll always be our captain, Ma'am," Soarin said.
With one unified and singular motion, Soarin, Fleetfoot, and Rainbow Dash raised their hooves to their foreheads in salute. Spitfire smiled, chuckling to herself.
"At ease, you three. I was only kidding."
But the pegasi before her did not move. They stood at attention, focused on honoring their leader. Spitfire's chest swelled as a bittersweet feeling built up in her stomach. She couldn't help but feel sick as she took a step away from them. She swallowed hard before speaking.
"Well, you know where to reach me," Spitfire said. "I hate goodbyes, so. I'll see ya around."
The salute did not waver and it did not falter as she made her way down the hallway towards the exit of the administration building. She took a right down the hallway, then stopped in her tracks.
Lining the hall in front of her, was every Wonderbolt in the squad. They were in uniform and holding the same salute that her friends had held in honor of her. She put one hoof in front of the other, moving down the hall in silence.
Her gaze moved to each of them, each at attention and unwavering. She recognized each one of their faces and names. She remembered the hours she had helped train each one of them along their journey to earn the uniform. It only served to further the feeling that built in her stomach. Her eyes felt itchy and she couldn't help but blink and look away.
She wanted to tell them to stand at ease. To stop making such a big deal out of this. She just wanted to go home. These were her last few moments as a leader to them, and she wanted to stay strong. She wanted to still be immortal to them. As strong or as rigid as the Princesses that ruled Equestria.
"Thank you, Ma'am," said Misty Fly as she passed.
Spitfire nodded, continuing past the team.
"Thank you, Ma'am," said Wave Chill.
Spitfire closed her eyes, trying to gulp down the tremor in her throat.
"Of course," she said in a whisper, her voice cracking.
"Thank you, Ma'am," said Silver Lining.
Spitfire increased her pace down the hall towards the exit. She felt herself breaking down. She felt her willpower fading. She hadn't cried once since the news had broken to her. She knew she must stay strong for her team, but this was too much. She could feel herself walking out of the one thing she loved most. The realization of stepping down from her dream job was washing over her and she didn't want the recruits to see. Her muscles ached. The absence of her right wing was now becoming all too real to her.
She realized this wasn't just some bad dream.
Spitfire reached the end of the hall and pushed open the doors to the building and into the bright sun of the morning. She opened her eyes and felt her breath leave her like a blow to the stomach.
Lined outside was everypony she had ever seen in passing on the base. Wonderbolt Recruits. Retired Wonderbolts. Wonderbolt trainers. Each lined the path to the balloon that would carry her home to Cloudsdale. Her eyes traced her way to the Balloon, where her mother stood, waiting for her.
She closed her eyes and moved down the steps. The feeling was building to its breaking point in her stomach. She felt herself tremble with each step. She opened her eyes once more, and immediately locked eyes with Lightning Dust, who stood in civilian clothes, saluting her without a single ounce of resentment on her face. Spitfire bit her lip and looked away, but try as she might, she couldn't move her eyes in a single direction without seeing a pony she knew, saluting her. Her old personal trainer. Her flight partner for when she was a recruit.
Spitfire blinked and felt a dampness leak from one of her eyes, but shook her head. A flash of a camera blinked, and Spitfire couldn't help but wince like it was a blow to the chest. How would she look in the picture, she wondered. Strong? Graceful? Or would she look as empty and defeated as she felt inside.
Her breathing became more shallow as the overwhelming love of each person that respected her, looked up to her, washed over her. She found herself walking faster to the balloon, where her Mom stood patiently for her. Smiling.
The feeling inside reached its tipping point.
She would never fly again, for the rest of her life.
Spitfire stopped, the tide of the war inside her head now turning for the worse. It was hard to stand. She felt herself shake. The ground under her felt as if it would fall away. She closed her eyes, feeling a stream of water stream down her face.
'I can't cry,' she told herself. 'I can't be weak. I can't be a bad leader. I've worked too hard to throw it all away now. Not in front of everypony who cares. Not in front of everypony who helped me get this far.'
But the single fact screamed through her head loud and clear. The single fact she tried not to think until she left the Wonderbolts. She would never fly again.
She paused for only a moment. Barely enough for anypony to notice a shift in her step, before she cleared her throat and raised her head high once more. Spitfire was almost there. She knew it.
Putting one hoof in front of the other, she stopped in front of the balloon and turned around, where her friends stood behind her, still saluting. Rainbow Dash, Fleetfoot, and Soarin, a new Captain’s badge affixed on his uniform, stood at attention, awaiting orders.
Spitfire cleared her throat, and summoned her voice for one final command.
“At ease!” she called out to the crowd and their hooves fell to the ground in unison.
She turned away from them, feeling a tear in her eye. And she stepped onto the balloon without a word to her mother, who climbed in behind her.
The balloon attendant began to prep the gas for their journey, but Spitfire turned to her three friends, mouthing a 'Thank you' to them. Then her eyes moved to the crowd of ponies in front of her. The near-hundred of pegasi who stood, watching her, in honor of her leadership. In respect of her departure of the post.
Spitfire placed her two front hooves on the edge of the basket, and the fire in the balloon came to life. The vessel began to rise into the air, and another stream ran down her left cheek.
In a practiced motion, she raised her hoof and saluted. A smile crept on her face as another stream ran down her right cheek. The crowd cheered for her, louder than any audience for their performances. Louder than any graduating class of recruits. They cheered for her, their leader. Their friend.
She turned away from the crowd and sat down on the floor of the balloon, Spitfire's mother sitting beside her. Now shielded from the crowd below her. Now resigned of her post. Now that Spitfire was beside her mother, staring at the floor of the balloon, she felt the hoof of her mom on her back.
Right where her wing used to be.
The feelings then erupted, and Spitfire wept into her mother's hooves.
