Threshold

“I feel like we might be getting distracted,” Rainbow said.

I scoffed. “You’re one to talk. All you’ve been is distraction since you got here.”

“Rares, I’m here for a reason. I got shit to do.”

“Fine. What was that reason again?”

Rainbow looked down at the table sheepishly, a little bit of a blush creeping onto her cheeks.

“Right,” I huffed. “So, until you feel as though I deserve to know what’s going on, I’ll do as I please.”

Still nothing.

There was something about Rainbow’s obsessive silence that was eating a hole in my stomach. She wasn’t exactly a vault of secrets. I couldn’t imagine how terrible something would have to be in order to keep her as quiet as she was.

Rainbow shuffled her hooves anxiously against the tabletop. Her eyes were jumping from point to point about the diner, doing everything should could to avoid landing on mine.

At long last, she let out a harsh sigh. “Fine. We’ll do what you wanna do.”

I nodded. “We’d better get the bill.”

“Mm.” Rainbow started to slide out of her seat. “I’m gonna hit the head real quick before we go, alright?”

She scooted off and I flagged down Blue Moon.

“Ready for your check, darlin’?” She asked, the soothing Southern twang hanging heavily off of her words.

“Please. And, if you don’t mind…” I craned my neck around her and watched the bathroom door close behind Rainbow. “Could I just ask you one more question?”

Blue snorted a little. “Best be a good one.”

“D-do you know anything about a…” I checked one last time, making sure Rainbow was out of earshot. “A Goddess?”

“You’ll have to be more specific, hon.”

“I suppose I just mean… well, does anypony around hear talk about a Goddess? Or-- or perhaps consider themselves a Goddess? Anything like that.” I stuttered my way through my description with the confidence of a confused old mare.

Blue all but rolled her eyes. “Doesn’t ring any bells.”

“You’ll let me know if it does?”

“Just how often are you plannin’ on grilling me, ma’am?” Blue asked, punctuating her question with the sharp tearing sound of the bill coming out of her booklet.

I looked down. “Nevermind.”

Blue froze, the bill held in the air with her gently tinkling magic. Her lip trembled slightly. “I’ll let you know.”

I raised my eyebrows and peered back up at her.

“Look, it’s not like I’m not worried about her,” she said. “Moss, that is. She’s… she’s real gentle. Not the type to spring anything on anypony. Not the type to stand up to anypony, either.”

I cleared my throat.

“I know who y’all are, I’m not stupid,” she continued, crumpling up the bill as she spoke. “You help ponies. You fix things. If anypony can bring Moss home, I’ll bet it’s you two.”

She tucked the crumpled piece of paper in her apron pocket, then lifted the dishes from our table and stacked them with a clatter.

“Breakfast on the house,” she said. “I hear an awful lot around here. I’ll help you out if I can.”

She trotted off just as Rainbow was returning.

“All set?” she asked.

I tore my eyes away from Blue and looked back at Rainbow. “Think so.”

“Where to?” Rainbow asked, already on her way to the door. She sniffled a bit.

“I wish I knew for certain,” I said. “Why don’t we start with the newspapers? Maybe there’s an article we missed.”

Rainbow practically kicked open the front door of the diner, the bell above it shaking with unprecedented force. “Dude, your special vibes about stuff are practically useless.”

I was taken aback by Rainbow’s sudden rudeness. “I’m doing my best, darling.”

“Whatever. Let’s just get back to reading a million newspapers, I guess.”

She set off at a trot which I could hardly keep up with. Her hooves bounced off the packed sand trail with newfound velocity.

Rainbow was, at times, a difficult pony to pin down.

This thought, sneaking into my mind with little to no intent, caused me to skid to a halt. A cloud of sand kicked up behind me, floating slowly forward and enveloping me in an itchy and cloying mass.

“Rainbow,” I said.

She stopped, turned to look at me. Her eyes looked as though they were covered in a film again… an otherworldly distance from what surrounded her. I could discern very little emotion there.

“I haven’t been home.”

“What?”

“I haven’t been home in--” My breath caught in my throat, and I choked on it for a moment. “In a whole day, I haven’t been home.”

Rainbow blinked.

“Nightwhisper.”

This hit her. There was a flash of something in her eyes-- something akin to sadness. I could barely comprehend what was going on around me, let alone begin to untangle this perplexing response. My heart was hammering with the force of a boulder against the inside of my ribs.

“I…” My chest was hitching and rasping without my control. “I need to go home.”

“Rarity--” Rainbow took half a step towards me.

I backed away the same distance. “Don’t follow me, okay?”

“But, Rarity, I--”

I turned and took off at a run. “Don’t follow me!”

I wish I could explain why I felt the need to run back into Nightwhisper’s den with such urgency. Truth be told, I remember very little between taking off at breakneck speed and actually arriving. As I remember it, I started off at a run and arrived mere moments later.

And here I was. At the gas station. This time, in the brutal daylight. What was once an oasis of light in a sea of darkness was now just the opposite-- a harsh dark shadow thrown across the desert sand. I stood at the edge of this shadow. My hooves were edged right up to it, an imaginary boundary which separated me from a very real danger.

Not danger. Don’t be silly. Just a stern lecture, perhaps a look of disappointment or an expression of frustration. That wasn’t truly danger, was it?

I stepped into the shadow.

Nightwhisper wouldn’t do anything as bad as all that. Wouldn’t do anything I didn’t deserve, that’s for certain. He took care of me. Took me in when I was lost and confused. And I felt so much myself when I cared for him. That’s who I am. Generosity. Giving and giving and giving…

The shade of the gas station’s overhang was almost unbelievably cool when compared to the direct heat of the sun. I suppose that was the point. To an attendant. It must have been welcoming and refreshing. But the comparative cold and darkness sent a shiver up my spine.

One attendant, a skinny little colt wearing a beat-up trucker’s cap pulled all the way down over his eyebrows, paused in the process of counting out bits to watch me pass.

“Well, holy shit.” He spat a wad of disgustingly grey spittle onto the pavement by his hooves. “If it ain’t little Miss Prissy, back from the dead.”

I whipped my head in the other direction. I wouldn’t dare give this goon the pleasure of meeting my eyes directly.

No matter what I did, my hooves would always clatter as I climbed the back staircase. Hollow metal mesh held on by the shear will of the building alone, always loudly announcing my presence to all in the vicinity.

Normally, Nightwhisper would listen to my every pounding step, never bothering to get up and let me in.

Today, of course, the door flew open on the third step.

“Rarity!” he bellowed.

I winced away from the sound of it.

He said nothing else. He stood at the threshold, watching as I climbed the stairs as slowly and quietly as I could. Each step like claws down a chalkboard.

When I reached the top, there was barely enough space for me to stand. My back hooves were still on the stairs, one front hoof daring to inch into the space which Nightwhisper occupied.

“Where were you?” he said. There was very little emotion there. So little that I wouldn’t dare to label it.

I opened my mouth, struggling to call up the words to explain what I had been doing.

“Rarity…” he leaned forward, towering over me. My front hoof slid backwards as I scrambled to keep my breathing spaces. The metal squealed as I shifted my weight backwards. I teetered on the edge of the stair.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come home.”

Nightwhisper huffed a warm and sickly breath down onto my face. I stumbled back further and nearly lost my balance, nearly tumbled down the long wrought-iron staircase and onto the firm, hot sand below.

“That’s not an answer.”

I drew in a sharp breath.

“Do you realize what it looks like if I can’t keep track of one mare in this plotfuck-nowhere town?” he asked, barely above a whisper. Not threatening. Almost a whimper.

“I…” There was nothing else there.

“Come inside.”

Nightwhisper turned and entered the small apartment.

I followed.

The door swung shut behind me with a light clap.

“Nightwhisper, I--”

“I get it,” he said. He would not face me, just kept walking away through the apartment and into the kitchen. “I knew this would happen. You’re Rarity. Everypony knows who you are. Nopony knows me. I’m not enough for you.”

Never once had he even implied that he knew who I was before this moment.

He started to shuffle things about in the sink, as if he were about to wash the dishes. His magic, a dark grey fog which collected about his horn, was unsteady. It wavered and faltered even as he jerked things about.

“You spend all this time helping ponies and giving things to ponies and I just…” He shuffled a few more things, then slammed a pot down with an excruciatingly loud clatter. “Damn it!”

I scuttled backwards a few steps.

He did not turn. Merely stared into the sink at the pile of dishes. He sighed, but a deep and rumbling sigh which bubbled up from the depths of his chest. A growl.

“Like I said. I get it. I’m not the goody-goodies you used to hang around with back in Ponyville. I’m a big brute with no redeeming qualities, and I deserve to be abandoned.” He nodded to himself, sniffled lightly. “Don’t know why you’d choose to hang around a guy like me in the first place.”

I swallowed hard.

“But you’re so good to me, Rarity.” He sighed again, this time wistfully up at the ceiling. “You’re so good to me. So I know you love me. Even if you don’t always act like it. I know there’s a lot of things that I handle for you, but it’s only because I want you to know that I love you, Rarity.”

“I love you, Rarity.”

The words barreled into me like a battering ram.

“I love you, Rarity.”

“I-I know…” I said.

“I love you, Rarity.”

Nightwhisper turned to me, his magic still faltering as he held a wooden spoon by his side. The sound of it, typically a gentle tinkling, skipped and dropped in tone like a bad record.

“Well?” He said.

“I love you, Rarity.”

A smile tugged at the corner of Nightwhisper’s mouth. He took another step towards me.

“I love you, too.” They came out. They came out, and I didn’t mean them, but now they were there. They were hanging in the air above us and I didn’t know what to do. “Of course I do.”

Nightwhisper closed the distance between us, resting his cheek against mine and letting out a shaking sigh. I drew a breath in and held it firm. Heavy and thick smells rolled off of him like waves on the sand. Alcohol, aftershave, cologne, gasoline.

“Oh, I knew it.” Meant to be reassuring. It wasn’t.

He rubbed his cheek in circles against mine.

I said nothing.

He pulled away quite suddenly. “You know we can’t have this happen again.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Well, I can’t have you scaring me like that again.” His eyes. Wide and innocent, pleading, almost. Almost. “I need to know where you are. I need to know you’re safe, where I can come get you if I need you”

I was silent. Nightwhisper’s magic surged stronger for an instant, the wood spoon rising a bit.

I took a step backwards, into the living room. Over the threshold.

“Of course you do.”

Stop talking, Rarity.

The spoon lowered.

“From now on, I’ll need you to tell me where you’re going before you leave.” Such wide, honest eyes. “That way, if you don’t come home, I know where to look for you.”

I nodded. Why?

“And, of course, if you’re going to be with anypony else I’ll need to know who.” Shimmering, blue eyes. “Just to… to give me a little security. Can you give me a little security?”

“Yes…”

Stop Talking.

“You will?”

“Mm-hm.”

Just shut up, Rarity.

“Good.” Nightwhisper smiled.

I swallowed again. “Yes.”

“I love you, Rarity.”

MISSING

I didn’t want to be missing, did I?

I wanted somepony to look out for me, didn’t I?

I wanted to be safe. He would keep me safe.

This is what I wanted.

He always gave me what I wanted.

“So, where were you?” He asked.

I didn’t think it possible, but my stomach fell even further.

His magic surged again. The spoon hung at his side. “Where did you go, Rarity? You were gone all day, all night. What were you doing?”

“I-I was…” All of my focus was on my breathing. Just keep breathing, Rarity. Don’t let your heart pound, Rarity. Don’t let your voice waver, don’t be weak.

“Yeah?”

“I was…” My mind couldn’t work. It was stuck, stuck in a loop of fear and confusion.

The magic surged even louder, the sound of it rushing against my ears. “Where were you, Rarity?”

Then, clarity.

“I was helping a friend.”

The spoon lowered. “Who?”

“B-Blue Moon. At the diner.” I shrank back from Nightwhisper as best I could. “She and some of the other girls needed hemming done on their uniforms. I was just helping out. I had to do it by hoof, you know. Since I… I don’t have a machine.”

“And why don’t you have a machine?”

I exhaled sharply through my teeth. “Because you don’t want me working. Because I give too much, and it’s not good for me.”

He smiled. “That’s right. I make the money, and the only pony you have to help is me. But I don’t really count, do I?”

I whimpered.

“Why don’t I count?”

“Because you do everything else for me. Because I owe it to you.”

“That’s right.” Nightwhisper dropped the spoon on the floor. “I had to make myself dinner last night after working all day. Do you have any idea how hard that was for me? I was so tired from working to make you money so that you could buy anything you want.”

Yes. Anything in town, that is.

“When you really think about it, making me food isn’t that much work at all,” he continued. “And you’re Rarity. You’re generosity. You love giving ponies stuff, don’t you?”

So hard to keep the tears down. I swallowed again. “Yes.”

“Yeah.” Nightwhisper moved to the couch, sat down with a flop. “Now, since you scared me so bad, and since I didn’t eat good last night, why don’t you whip me up something to eat?”

He did not look at me. He looked past me, feeling proud of himself for having survived a night on his own.

I stood on the threshold, all four hooves together, my mane a limp mess and my coat a dull, sandy color. For a moment, I saw myself from the outside. Small, vulnerable, scared and confused and so so tired. Unimaginably tired. A tiredness that was so heavy and palpable, it was like a weight on my very soul. My soul was achingly exhausted.

And I merely stood on the threshold.