Of Shooting Stars

Of Shooting Stars

Chapter 2: Distance

“Seriously, she wants another!” Rainbow groaned as she lay limp across a particularly minuscule puffball of a cloud. Chin and forelegs buried amidst the fluff, she sprawled while her hind legs and tail dangled lazily off the back. The tips of her hooves just barely grazed the dirt below. “Can you believe it, AJ?” She opened her hoof, as though demanding Applejack’s reply be placed squarely on her hoof like a payment owed.

“Don’t you have your own job to get to?” the farmer asked, furrowing her brow.

“I skipped training.” Rainbow glanced to the side.

“Must be nice to play hooky when you feel like it,” Applejack muttered under her breath. She pulled her hat down toward her muzzle for a second, pinching her eyes tightly closed. Taking a calculated moment, she sucked in a deep breath, then held it for a short while. “Dash, I’m a little busy here,” she said as she tugged her hat back atop her head. Jerking forward, she punctuated the statement by brushing her friend’s hoof out of her way.

Both the cloud and Rainbow Dash drifted off to the side as Applejack’s shoulder grazed the pegasus. Rainbow’s eyes followed as the farmer and a plow in tow passed. Narrowing her sights, Rainbow swatted the air and slammed her hoof down into the cloud. "But then she said, ‘I want one,’ to me! Can you believe that!"

Applejack glanced skyward, gnawing on her lower lip. "I ain’t gettin’ outta this, am I?" she asked the empty blue void. As if on cue, the sun eclipsed from view when Rainbow’s head drifted in front of her face once more.

"Look!” Applejack groaned. “I got a whole heap of work on my plate today.” A sinking sense of despair settled in her gut when she noticed how little Rainbow’s intensely indifferent expression changed. But rather than let that take hold, Applejack pointed down at the barren land under her hooves.

“Listen here. I gotta plant some corn ‘cause Big Mac thinks we should diversify our crops this year so we don’t get hit so hard in the winter.” Hoof thrust to the side, Applejack drew Rainbow’s disinterested gaze to a fenced coop. “Then I gotta make sure the chickens get fed! Plus I also gotta make a scarecrow, but not too scary on account of Fluttershy. She said last year I traumatized the crows and she had to counsel them—” she rubbed the back of her head “—like with therapy or somethin’. And then Rarity chimed in to tell me I can’t just put any ol’ rags on the thing, else I’ll be the laughin’ stock of the whole town.” After a moment she shrugged off a confused look. “So now I have to make a not-too-scary fashionable scarecrow. So if ya would be so kind to—" she cut herself off as Rainbow’s cloud drifted closer. The mare’s rose-colored eyes pierced like daggers through the shadow cast over Applejack.

The farmer’s ears fell flat. "—At least make it quick," she said with a sigh of defeat.

"So, as I was saying!" Rainbow and her cloud slid silently to the side. She gave a small nod, permitting her captive audience to continue her work. "Twi wants to have another kid! I’m not about that, AJ!"

"Gosh dangit, Dash. Ya know I don’t much care to hear about y'all's relationship!"

"Oh, mare up, AJ!"

A lone hoof inserted itself between the two mare’s face. "Look, I’ve come to accept that your relationship and what y’all do together ain’t none of my business.” Applejack began, narrowing her eyes. “Y’all are my friends and I shouldn’t be judgemental, but that doesn't mean I’ve gotta be subjected to the intimacies of y’all’s private life.” Her hair flipped as Applejack turned up her nose. “I should at least have the right to not think about that."

Rainbow slapped Applejack’s hoof down, brandishing her gaze down at the farm pony once more. "We have a kid together, AJ! You know we fuck!"

"Nope!" Applejack clenched her teeth for just a moment. When she loosened her jaw, she sucked in a deep breath. "I don’t think about the particulars of what you and Twilight do together in the bedroom, so if you want somepony to vent to, keep it PG, Dash."

Rainbow rolled her eyes. "That’s kinda hard when I’m trying to vent about adding to the size of our family."

"I don’t want to picture you two bumpin’ uglies, alright? Besides grossin’ me out, I don’t want to think about my friends like that.” Fast as an arrow, Applejack jabbed Rainbow in the chest. “Y’all are like sisters to me, so it’s like picturin’ family like that.” She narrowed her eyes as she pulled her hoof back. “I’m serious, now. If you can’t do that, then go find somepony else to talk to. I prefer to live in blissful ignorance on this issue."

"Fine!" Rainbow groaned, plopping her muzzle down on the cloud. Her gaze trailed to the side before snapping back to Applejack. "Just imagine we’re adopting. Is that okay?"

The farmer stared back with unamused—borderline annoyed—look in her eyes. "I don’t much like bein’ patronized."

"What else would you want?" Rainbow rolled her eyes again. "So, Twi wants a new kid, and I don’t."

"And why’s that?"

"Uh, I don’t know, remember the last time we—" Rainbow groaned once more "—’adopted’ a foal?"

"Callin’ it somethin’ else ain’t changin’ the situation." Applejack stared at the pegasus with a flat expression. "But I see where you’re goin’. Havin’ li’l Light was hard on y’all, so who’s to say another won’t be rough again? What with y’all bein’ famous now." She tapped her chin. “Sure y’all won’t get the same kinda treatment, but I’m sure a few might make a fuss—publicly, even.”

"Exactly!” Rainbow propped herself up on her forehooves, chest puffed out. “I don’t think we need another kid anyway. I was an only kid and I loved it."

Applejack nodded as she rolled her eyes. "I think you’re the odd mare out on that one. I couldn’t imagine life without Big Mac and Apple Bloom by my side.” She looked at an orchard tree, the leaves waving slowly in a gentle breeze. Little green bulbs—the start of a new crop—caught her eye. “It’d be a lonely life for sure."

"You’re not helping—" An orange, dusty hoof pressed to Rainbow’s lips.

‘No, I ain’t agreein’ with you.” Applejack snapped her gaze back at Rainbow. “You want my advice or you want an echo?"

Rainbow’s gaze fell as she dropped down onto her chest again and buried the tip of her muzzle inside the cloud. A small, nagging voice gnawed at the back of her brain—one that sounded suspiciously like Twilight. It told her she should be ashamed of herself for wanting the clearly wrong option, just like its real-world counterpart would have done. She was silent for a moment until she took a deep breath. To silence that voice, she uttered the answer like a filly being scolded by her mother. "An echo…"

Applejack nodded. "Well, that there’s your answer. I think you’d best go find somepony else to listen then, sugarcube." She gave a firm pat on Rainbow’s shoulder before pressing forward with her plow in tow. “‘But if you want my honest opinion? Runnin’ ain’t gonna fix your mess. You might as well just tell Twilight flat out and nip this in the bud. Besides, knowin’ you this ain’t the only thing botherin’ you.”

“And did you see how much I made my rock skip!” forelegs flailing, Light yelled atop her mother’s head.

Twilight chuckled. “I sure did.”

"It went so far!" Her hoof arched, splashing down on an invisible puddle as she made the sound herself before skipping her hoof off to the side. "I bet it’s a new record!"

"I’m sure it is, Sweetie," Twilight said distantly. A smile rested on her lips despite Light not seeing her face. The excitement in the filly’s voice was enough to fill Twilight’s heart with pride—pride that Light enjoyed their outing, and pride she had proven Rainbow wrong. Indeed, a smile upon her lips fueled by a smug sense of satisfaction. "Did you have fun skipping rocks today?" she asked, securing the frosting on her ego cake.

"Yeah!” Light leaned down over her mother’s forehead and grinned. “Better than books."

Twilight laughed again. Though we still practiced levitation by skipping said rocks.

“We have to take dad next time so I can show her how good I am at skipping!” Ear to ear, Light boasted a grin that would have shone through the darkest night. She sat back up upon her perch to light their path.

An affirmative hum was all Twilight gave her. The filly’s mad ramblings drifted into white noise as Twilight pictured the look on Rainbow’s face later that night. Since Light enjoyed their lesson today there was no way Rainbow could use her as ammo against having another foal ever again.

The audacity of that pony to insinuate I was making Light into a copy of me.

"Ow!" Twilight blurted out as her head jerked to the side. Everything around her snapped back into place with a jolt of pain straight through her skull. The filly atop her head leaned usingher horn and thrust her hoof at a particular store adorned with what appeared to be cookie and frosting for a roof.

"Can we go see Aunt Pinkie?"

Twilight winced, pointing her muzzle front once more. "If you don’t tug on my horn again, sure," she muttered. "You know, you shouldn’t do that when you’re up there. You hurt me."

"Sorry," The filly slid down Twilight’s neck and then flopped onto the ground. After a moment to regain her bearings, she scrambled to her hooves with a carefree grin adorning her face.

"Careful," Twilight warned, wincing once more.

"I’m fine!" Light called back, racing toward Sugarcube Corner as though her little heart depended on it.

As the filly shrank into the storefront doorway, Twilight rubbed her neck. "I meant with me," she muttered again, giving pursuit.

Light burst through the doorway, soaring through the air, and landing by planting all four hooves hard with a ground-shaking thud. Her eyes whirled around the room until finally locking on the counter. A big smile accompanied growing eyes as she about shrieked.

"Morning Light!" Twilight called, marching in behind the filly.

Suddenly Light was hoisted off the ground and spun around. Where a treat-adorned counter display once filled her view, now stood an imposing glare shrouded in magenta haze. She rose steadily to meet the towering monolith until she came nose to nose with Twilight. The filly’s ears folded back, vanishing under her dirty rainbow-colored mop.

"You’re in big trouble missy," Twilight softly said with the quiet might only a mother could muster.

A small squeak was her only reply, but the terror in Light’s eyes spoke volumes.

She sighed, then sat Light down. Once she was on the ground, Twilight gave her a small pat on the head. "You can’t just go gallivanting on your own, alright? Also, you hurt me twice before you bolted off."

Light dropped her muzzle, tucking her tail to her side. "I’m sorry."

Twilight tilted her head, taking in her daughter in for a moment. Finally, she gave a small nod to herself. Apologies meant little on their own, but seeing the filly fret such, Twilight knew her remorse genuine and sufficient for her crime. "Just be more mindful in the future, sweetie," she said, shifting to a sweet tone as she brushed Light’s mane.

Motion caught Twilight ‘s attention just out of the corner of her eye.

From behind the counter, Pinkie stood, leaning on her foreleg. Her curlicue-tail wagged back and forth visibly over the countertop. A cat-like grin spread across her face, and a glint caught her eye as her sights bounced between Twilight and Light. Finally, they came to a rest on the filly, and Pinkie’s tongue poked free under her top teeth. "Somepony’s in trouble," she sang followed by a giggle.

"Am not!" Cheeks puffed out, Light narrowed her gaze at the offending pony.

Twilight rolled her eyes as she watched Light’s reaction. In that moment, she could picture Rainbow doing the same when she was a filly, and it drew a slight chuckle. "Hi, Pinkie." She turned her attention behind the counter.

"Hiya," Pinkie said, beaming ear to ear. "What can I do for you two?"

Light’s cheeks deflated like an old balloon as she searched around the bakery’s dining room. “Where’s Pound and Pumpkin?” she asked.

Pinkie tilted her head to the side, still smiling. “With their mom and dad in Baltimare visiting relatives for the week.”

The filly’s ears fell flat and a frown came shortly after.

That was all it took. Pinkie slid along the counter, letting her weight carry her until she slipped off and disappeared behind the counter without so much as a crash from hitting the floor. Twilight raised a hoof, but before she could even ask Pinkie shot into the air like a whale breaching. In her hoof rested a light blue cupcake wrapper with pink and lime-green frosting. Under the blanket of sugary delight poked out a rosy pastry perfectly puffed to perfection. Pinkie grinned widely once more, holding the treat out like her newborn messiah.

As Pinkie lifted the treat, Light’s eyes grew wider and hoof outstretched.

Inching closer, Pinkie extended her toward the filly. Closer and closer, inch by painstaking inch, until the cupcake was just within her grasp. But just as the tip of Light’s hoof was about to touch the delightful dessert, Pinkie thrust it in Twilight’s direction, presenting it to her. “Permission to deliver smile-inducing treat, your highness?” Pinkie let out a snort followed by a chorus of giggles.

The joy ripped from Light’s eyes in that single moment, as her growing smile fell flat. She turned her sights to her mom, silently pleading. Echoes of a promised treat resonated as she reached out for her mom’s foreleg.

Twilight rolled her eyes and chuckled. “I suppose it won’t ruin her dinner, so permission granted.”

In a pink blur, Pinkie whirled around the counter. Neither Twilight nor Light had a chance to react before the latter was scooped up and dropped off at the closest table with the cupcake placed squarely in front of her. Once the filly was seated with treat still wobbling after being plopped down, Pinkie trotted back to the counter and Twilight.

“What do you say, Light?” Twilight asked, raising an ear in her daughter’s direction.

“Thanks, Aunt Pinkie!” she said with her tongue hanging out.

Mid-step, Pinkie bounced at the sound of “aunt,” squealing softly. As she landed, she skipped once and fell forward. “So, how about you, Twilight?” she asked, catching herself and propping a hoof of the counter. “Did you two just come by to see li’l old me?”

“Morning Light insisted after our levitation practice—or as she preferred to call it, ‘play date’—in the park.”

A sly smirk spread across Pinkie’s face. “So she finally dragged you out of the castle and away from the books, huh?”

Twilight paused for a moment, eyes dropping, and sighed. “Rainbow did, actually.” She shifted her sights to Light attempting to shove an entire cupcake into her mouth and failing. In an instant, the filly’s once pristine cheek fur smeared with frosting. Like a timberwolf, she devoured the pastry until it matted deep into her coat. Twilight took a deep breath and closed her eyes. When she looked back at Pinkie, she furrowed her brow. “At least I proved her wrong.”

Pinkie blinked absently for a moment. “Who, Rainbow?”

The squishy sound of cupcake devouring made Twilight’s ear twitch. Finally, she nodded. “It’s what she said to me this morning after breakfast.”

“And that was?”

“I’ll level with you, Pinkie,” Twilight said with a flat look. “I only took Light today out of spite. Rainbow said I was making Light just like me.” When she glanced back at her daughter, Light flashed a bright, frosting-coated smile. Twilight smiled back and waved.

“Mind if I level back?” Pinkie brought her hoof to her chin. “I’d say Light takes after Rainbow more than you.”

When Twilight returned her gaze back to Pinkie she rolled her eyes. “Not physically. She meant with how I make her study.”

A soft hum came as Pinkie tapped her chin. For a moment her eyes gazed off into the distance until she finally gave a shrug. “Oh, that. Yeah.” Pinkie nodded solemnly. Once she noticed Twilight staring at her, she cleared her throat. “Don’t you think she’s got a point though?”

“What?” Hoof pressed to her chest, Twilight leaned back, repulsed. “I don’t force Light to study so she’ll follow my hoofsteps!” she hissed. “I do it so she’ll be prepared for the world.”

Pinkie tipped her hoof back and forth like a scale. “Eh.”

Twilight narrowed her eyes. “I don’t.”

“If you didn’t so much, why did you let it get to you?” Pinkie poked Twilight in the chest softly. “If you didn’t think she was kinda right, you’d have kinda ignored her.”

Twilight opened her mouth, but the words didn’t come out. Slowly her glare lessened until she just stared at Pinkie, mouth agape. Without realizing, she turned her attention over to Light again, finding the filly licking the cupcake wrapper. “She had fun though,” she finally managed to say, slightly skeptical of her own claim.

With a firm pat on Twilight’s shoulder, Pinkie nodded. “Oh, no doubt she did.” Pressing her cheek to Twilight’s and looking at Light happily licking the remnants of frosting and crumbs, Pinkie nodded again. “Those cheeks don’t lie—but are you going to do this again? And keep doing it? Even if that means she’s learning less?”

Mouth still hanging open, Twilight turned back to Pinkie as the mare left her personal space. After a moment, her slack-jaw morphed into a frowned. “D-did…” The thought started like a whisper but quickly took root. She narrowed her eyes down at the counter. “Did Rainbow get one over on me?”

A soft hiss filled the air as Twilight sucked air in through her teeth. “I am so going to let her have it when she gets home.”

“What’s the big deal?” Pinkie asked with a shrug. “You and Light had fun, right? Who cares if Rainbow Dash planned this.”

“That’s not the point! The point is—” Twilight was cut off when she noticed Pinkie staring at her, patiently expecting the answer. But something odd struck her. Something she didn’t expect. “The point is…”

“Is?” Pinkie leaned in slightly.

“That…” Twilight cleared her throat. Soon her cheeks flushed and she averted her eyes. “Rainbow is wrong.” She gave a firm nod.

Pinkie turned her gaze from Twilight, over to Light, then looped around the room before falling back where she started. “She kinda is.”

Twilight blinked. “Wait, she is?”

“Think about it, silly. You’d have to do this pretty much everyday—not just as a one-off thing—to change how you’re teaching Light. Then even if you did it every day, that’d be what Rainbow would want, right? Except Light takes after her dad more than you, so she’s right and wrong.” Pinkie glanced up at the ceiling. “I actually don’t know what’s going on now that I think about it. Did any of that make sense to you?”

Twilight furrowed her brow with ears lying flat. “A bit…”

“Good!” Pinkie smiled. “Because I was worried for a second there.”

Solemnly, Twilight stared at the floor. “I think you’re saying I shouldn’t be so strict?” As her tone rose, so too did her eyes, questioning Pinkie when their gazes met.

The mare rolled her head around, her puffy pink mane whipping in circles before springing back into place when she stopped. “It’s not really my place to say.”

“It is Rainbow’s though, and I think that’s what she was saying—even if it was out of spite this morning, or shifting blame.” Twilight’s ears laid flat against her head and she frowned.

“Then maybe you should cut Light some slack?” She shrugged again. After a moment she rolled her hoof in the air before leaning against the counter once again. “You did some practice at the park, right? Maybe you might not get the rep as the big tough mom if you turned some more of your lessons into ‘play dates’ like today. That sounds like a scrumptious compromise to me.”

Twilight chewed on her lower lip. “I suppose Starlight and myself teaching her in the library isn’t the best practical application for her studies. Skipping rocks was a good exercise, and thinking back on my own studies with Celestia, letting Morning Light do less rigorous studying might be a good change of pace.”

“She gets to have more fun, you get your teaching fix, and Rainbow Dash gets—” Pinkie’s ears fell flat, the words simply stopped flowing. “Wait, why did Rainbow Dash even bring that up?”

Twilight let out a low groan. “That’s the issue; we’re kinda having a fight.”

“Kinda?” Pinkie raised an eyebrow.

“You can’t tell this to anypony, alright?” Twilight stressed, firm eyes locked onto Pinkie’s.

“Pinkie promise,” she said, running through the motions.

Twilight pinched her eyes for a second. “Between my job, Light, and Rainbow’s job with the Wonderbolts, it feels like we’ve not had much time for each other.”

“I see,” Pinkie said, nodding.

“I’m busy all day—” Twilight pressed a hoof to her forehead “—and I’ll probably be more busy with the upcoming Falling Leaves Festival. Rainbow leaves early in the morning, isn’t even home every night, and when she is, we’re usually too tired to really spend time together.” A long drawn out sigh created a brief pause as Twilight slid her hoof down her face. “We try intimacy, but it just feels like we’re running through the motions.”

Pinkie continued nodding slowly. “That’s no good,” she said after a second, then hopped over the counter, narrowly dodging a candy-filled jar with her back hoof.

“I know it isn’t. Something has to chance. I’m trying to talk things over with her—a few things, actually—but it’s just so hard. I don’t think she’ll listen to me.” Twilight turned to lean against the counter, planting her chin squarely on her crossed forelegs. “You know how she is.”

“Yeah, knowing Rainbow, she’s noticed it too, but covering up what’s really eating at her. Doesn’t sound like this is any one pony’s fault.” Pinkie dipped below the counter once more, her bushy tail swishing back and forth as she dug through the mysteries on the other side. “But I got just the thing here somewhere.”

“Pinkie, what are you—” Twilight jumped back when Pinkie popped up and slammed a small box on the counter right in front of her nose. Her eyes moved from the cardboard box up to the grinning mare.

“Found it,” Pinkie finally said as she shoved the box at Twilight.

“Apple cider tea?” Twilight asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Trust me, she’ll love it.”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “I’m not really in the mood to give her a gift.”

Giggled ended with a snort as Pinkie waved her hoof. “It’s not a gift, silly.” She lunged over the counter, snatching Twilight’s head and pulling her close. “Since you two are kinda fighting, she’s not going to tell you what’s eating her. This’ll be the olive branch,” she whispered right into Twilight’s ear.

Twilight blinked for a moment. So wrapped up in processing what Pinkie said she didn’t even notice Pinkie had let her head go. Suddenly her eyes dropped right down to the box again and a small smile came across her face. “I see. So I give this to her and she’ll listen.”

A hiss stole Twilight’s attention back to Pinkie, the mare shaking her head. “You’ve gotta get Rainbow to trust you again so she won’t go on the defensive. That, and you’re gonna have to do what you really don't want to. You need to listen to her too,” Pinkie said with a small frown.

“I do listen to her,” Twilight protested, brow furrowed.

“So if she still doesn’t agree with you?”

“Obviously she hasn’t—” Twilight cut herself off by covering her mouth with a hoof. In that instant, it hit Twilight. The whole argument wasn’t because Rainbow didn’t want another foal, or even how she’s raising Light. This all stemmed from her need to convince Rainbow to see things her way. A wave of nausea washed over her The thought echoing in her mind that Rainbow’s opinion didn’t matter. What mattered was that, in Twilight’s eyes, Rainbow was wrong and she was right. Slowly she pulled her hoof back, jaw agape. “I’m a monster…”

Pinkie waved her hoof dismissively. “No, don’t say that.” She placed a gentle hoof on Twilight’s shoulder, petting down the alicorn’s foreleg. “Lots of ponies get like that when they’re fighting.”

“B-but…”

Pinkie poked Twilight square on the nose. “But nothing. Just take a step back and have an honest, real talk.” She narrowed her eyes seriously. “And no questionin’, or she’ll think it’s pesterin’.” Pinkie snorted again.

Twilight looked down at the box again. “So, just have tea with her and talk things out?”

“Well, yeah, but don’t pressure her. I know neither of you likes fighting, so I’m sure you two can talk it out like big girls.” Pinkie reached out and messed Twilight’s mane. “Even if you don’t agree.” She looked to the side and gave a half shrug. “Then again, what do I know? I’ve never been with anypony.”

“No, you’re right,” Twilight said, staring past Pinkie. The words "big girls" echoed in her mind, dragging her heart down as it faded into nothingness. Suddenly she felt the urge to smack herself right in the face. She—they—were adults. They couldn’t deal with arguments like they had before Light was born or else it would impact their daughter. Silent treatments, passive aggressive comments, eventual blowouts—that’s not fair to the others in their life. It hadn’t even dawned on her since she was so wrapped up in proving a point, and with how little she had seen of Rainbow lately.

Suddenly Twilight felt a tug on her tail. She looked back to see Light staring up at her, frosted mouth curled into a frown. Motherly instinct took over as subconsciously she spotted a towel to the side, snatched it in her magic, and bent down to wipe the mess of Light’s face.

"Are you and dad fighting, Mom?" the filly asked in a soft, almost quivering voice.

Twilight stopped mid swipe leaving a streak of sticky mess along Light’s chin. “Did you overhear Aunt Pinkie and I talking?”

Light nodded. “And you and dad were looking mad at each other at breakfast.”

She swallowed. “No, Light. We’re just—" Twilight glanced to the side "—having a spat."

"A spat?"

"We’re just not seeing eye to eye at the moment." Twilight levitated Light into the air as she stood up, bringing her nose to nose with her before rubbing the tip of her muzzle against Light’s. "But we’ll be getting along again in no time, so don’t worry."

Light tilted her head to the side for a moment before giving a small, tentative nod.

"Why don’t you throw away that wrapper so Aunt Pinkie has less of a mess to clean up." Twilight wiped the last of the frosting off Light’s face and sat her back down on the ground.

"Okay." She skipped off, leaving Twilight and Pinkie for the moment.

"Thanks, Pinkie. You’ve been a big help," Twilight said turning back to the counter.

“I try. And besides, Twilight, you’re a smart cookie. I know you got what it takes to dunk yourself into Rainbow’s milk and soak up whatever’s muckin’ about in there. Then you two can get over this little spat.”

Twilight laughed, brushing Pinkie’s hoof away. “You know, Pinkie, I don’t give you enough credit sometimes.”

She shrugged again. “It’s cool.”

Inching closer, Rainbow reached for the handle of the towering, opaque crystal door. Behind her sprawled the endless, empty, dark hallways of the castle she and Twilight called home. But as her hoof came to the handle, she paused. On the other side, she hoped to find more of darkness—picturing herself fumbling to the bed with an already asleep Twilight taunted her—but an orange flicker from underneath the door told her that was just a fantasy. She took a deep breath and turned the handle.

The orange glow filling the room burned her eyes for but a moment. Immediately the smokey smell of roasting applewood wafted, tugging her inside the room by her nostrils. Upon the sofa opposite her, she spotted Twilight lying, nose buried in a book as she silently sipped a cup of tea. Rainbow dropped her eyes down to the coffee table where a steaming kettle sat center. A delightfully sour scent mixed with the undeniable sweet of apples mellowed perfectly by the welcome tea fragrance graced her nose next.

Twilight looked up from her book. “You’re late.”

Eyes buried in the wall, Rainbow slunk along the room’s perimeter with slow, soft movements. Only a few steps in she dared to glance up. “Sorry, just stuff.” She stopped and rubbed the back of her head. “Are Spike and Light in bed?” she asked, getting a nod in response. A few more steps, returning her gaze down, she sighed. “Alright, well, I’m tired. I’m just going to go to bed,” she muttered.

“Dashie,” Twilight said abruptly.

Rainbow stopped midstep, looking up at Twilight with a pained expression. “Can we not?”

Twilight only patted the cushion next to her. “Come here,” she commanded with a sweet tone.

For a moment Rainbow glanced down the hallway that led to their bedroom. It was all too easy to just make a break for it. Twilight wouldn’t dare yell at her—not with Light asleep. But as she stared at freedom, her hooves moved on their own. Not forward, but dragging her body toward the sofa. Resigned, she sighed. Tonight she may have had peace, but if she ran from Twilight, there would be no end to it tomorrow.

She climbed onto the sofa and sat like a child forced to sit still at a piano recital. Suddenly a cup drifted into view, and again the sweet smell of sour apples and tea melding together right under her nose. A purple glow to her side stood out against the orange cast of the fireplace.

Rainbow took the gift from Twilight’s magic, staring down into the translucent brown liquid within. Only the crackle of the firewood and Twilight’s soft slurps broke the silence for what seemed like minutes. Rainbow pressed the cup to her lips and took a drink. As the warm drink filled her mouth her ears rose slightly for what felt like the first time since breakfast. An explosion of sour and sweet washed over her tongue curbed perfectly by the mellowing tea flavor. “Is this apple cider tea? It’s good.”

“You smell like beer,” Twilight finally remarked after she pulled the cup from her lips.

Once more, Rainbow’s ears fell flat. “I went to the bar before coming home. I had maybe a third of a beer when some drunk spilled his on me.” Rainbow continued to stare down into her tea, watching the ripples in her cup. “Kinda ruined my already sour mood, so I left after that.”

“You didn’t go to work today?”

Rainbow shook her head. “I could get away with it. We’re not preparing for the big show until next week.”

“Yeah, Celestia asked if I would give a commencement speech. I thought you might not have gone today anyway—”

“Seriously, can we not do this tonight?” Rainbow asked abruptly, though her eyes stayed firmly in her cup.

“Would you just let me talk?” Twilight asked back, with a frown. “I promise this isn’t what you think it’s about. I’m not trying to scold you.”

Rainbow took a deep breath. “I’m holding you to that.”

Pausing for a moment, Twilight closed her eyes for a bit longer than a blink. “Dashie, I love you.”

“It’s good to know that hasn’t changed,” she remarked, taking another sip.

Sarcasm was never a pleasant thing to hear, mostly when she was laying her heart bare, but she swallowed the nagging sensation that told her to correct Rainbow and cleared her throat. "No, it hasn’t. And after taking a step back, I’ve realized today that we don’t have enough time together.”

Rainbow’s reflection in the surface of her tea raised its eyebrow at her as her ear closest to Twilight flicked up.

“I miss you." Twilight pressed a hoof to her chest. “I miss us!”

Another pop of the fire broke the otherwise quiet room. Rainbow pinched her eyes closed and groaned. “You’re making it super hard to stay mad right now.”

"Good.” Twilight took a swift sip from her cup. “It’s been awhile since we’ve had a big argument, but we’re too old to fight like this anymore, Dashie. We’re not two young mares dating—we’re adults with careers and responsibility. Light alone would be reason enough.”

“There we go,” Rainbow muttered. “Back to being easy again.”

Twilight narrowed her eyes, leaning closer. “Do you know what she asked me earlier today? If you and I were fighting.” She paused, and Rainbow raised an eyebrow at her. “She’s old enough that she understands there’s an argument going on between us. She’s affected by it too."

"So, what? You want me to just drop it and you win? You get what you want and—" Just then Rainbow’s lips pressed together. In the tea’s reflection, she saw a glow around her mouth.

"I didn’t say that.” Twilight brought her own cup to her lips. After a second she took a small sip and let out a breath. “I’m the one who’s dropping it."

The magical grip around Rainbow’s lips vanished just as she snapped her head in Twilight’s direction. "Wait, what?"

The crackle of the fire filled the room for a second as Twilight now stared down into the cup before her. She let out another sigh after a moment and pulled her gaze up. "I don’t know why you’re against having another foal—" she turned to Rainbow, placing her hoof on her leg "—but I trust that you feel it’s a good reason.”

Rainbow stared absently. Then her eyes flicked down to Twilight’s hoof and then back to Twilight’s face. Without even thinking she stretched out her free hoof and pressed the back to Twilight’s forehead. "You feeling okay?"

Lips pursed, she brushed Rainbow's hoof away and stared at her flatly. "You know, that’s somewhat insulting you’d assume I must be sick for placing some trust in you."

"Sorry, but this is a complete one-eighty from this morning!" Rainbow pulled her hoof back, running it through her mane before letting it fall to the side.

“I know.” Twilight’s eyes fell once more before snapping back to Rainbow. “I feel bad for the way I treated you. Every argument we have I feel like it’s a problem to tackle and you just need to see it my way, but that’s…” Twilight rolled her lower lip across her teeth. “That’s insulting to you. It implies your views lack merit, and I am so sorry.” She took in an uneven breath.

“Back to making it hard again,” Rainbow muttered, rolling her neck. Suddenly she snapped her foreleg around Twilight’s shoulder and pulled the larger mare close. “It sucks. I hate when we fight because it feels like it’s more about who’s right than the real problem, right?”

Twilight nodded.

“I can forgive you, Twi.”

“It’s not over,” Twilight said softly.

The small smile that formed on Rainbow’s lips fell just as quick as it had dared to exist. “And the catch…”

“No catch,” Twilight replied, rubbing her cheek into Rainbow’s mane. “I’m going to listen to you, and I won’t argue about it anymore. But I still want you to promise me something.”

“What?” Rainbow almost regretted she asked.

“You’ll think about it?” Twilight leaned back to look Rainbow in the eyes.

“Sure—”

“No. I want you to really think about it. Earnestly.” Twilight moved her hoof to Rainbow’s leg. “And when you’re ready to talk, we can. Is that fair?”

Rainbow frowned, then pinched her eyes closed. She rolled her head around once more and let out a groan. “No pressure?” she finally asked.

“No pressure. When you’re ready to.”

Finally Rainbow let out a sigh. “Then fine. I’ll think about it.”

“Thanks, Dashie.” In a swift move, Twilight took her hoof from Rainbow’s leg and wrapped it around the mare’s shoulders, squeezing her tightly. “There’s just one last thing I want us to do.”

“You’re killing me, Twi,” Rainbow grumbled, caught mid-hug with Twilight.

“No, I think you’ll like this one.” Twilight loosened her grip and pulled back. “I want us to make more time for each other. So, tomorrow night, how about a date? Just the two of us. Before you have some big training thing.”

Rainbow blinked absently for a moment. “Yeah, you’re right. I do like that one.”

“That sounds like a yes.” Twilight clapped her hooves together softly.

Rainbow rolled her eyes. “It is.”