Passed On

Chapters

I - Already Gone
II - Nothing Left to Save
III - All the Same Mistakes
IV - Chances
V - Washed Away
VI - Finding the Words
VII - Afraid and Alone

I - Already Gone

“Sunset, you have to tell me where you are,” Twilight said. In the back of her mind, a plan was already formulating, prioritizing tasks and accounting for possible hiccups. Luna had come to her home to arrange this meeting, so as soon as Twilight woke up, the portal would be just seconds away. There would be no time to inform Celestia of her absence, or ask the princess any questions. Right now, the only thing that mattered was finding Sunset and ensuring her safety.

Sunset seemed to look past Twilight as she spoke. “I-I... I’m in the hospital. I don’t know where it is, exactly. It’s the only one in the whole city, though.”

Excellent. “Okay,” Twilight said. “When we’re done talking, I’m going through the portal to find you.” She scoured her memory for layouts and directions of Sunset’s world. She remembered a few signs with arrows that read Canterlot Hospital near the heart of the city, though she wasn’t exactly sure where they were. No matter—she’d find the place in no time.

Sunset closed her eyes, the faintest of smiles on her face. At last, Twilight knew she was getting through to her. “Y-yeah. I’d like that,” Sunset said.

A flare of anxiousness gnawed at Twilight. Sunset seemed receptive now, but there were still so many unknowns. There was no way of knowing how damaged Sunset’s resolve was after the events she’d just explained. She may not be giving up anymore, but Twilight wanted to hear it. She needed to be sure.

“It’s going to be alright, Sunset,” Twilight said. "I need you to believe that. I need you to tell me you believe it, too.”

Sunset didn’t respond immediately. When she opened her eyes, they were glossed over and staring off, as if Twilight wasn’t even there. Her expression became confused as she finally spoke.

“What...?”

“Sunset? I need you to tell me you’re not giving up, alright?” Twilight said.

Again, Sunset said nothing. After another anxious pause, Twilight opened her mouth to speak again, only to stop abruptly as Sunset clamped her hands over her ears, grimacing.

“Nnnnnngh...” Sunset groaned. She turned around, the length of her white nightgown twisting with her. The gloss in her eyes vanished for the briefest of seconds, and in its place all Twilight saw was sheer terror.

“Sunset?” Twilight tried her best to speak slowly and clearly. “What are you feeling? You have to talk to me, what’s going on?”

All at once, things fell into chaos. Sunset tumbled over, clutching her chest as if she’d been struck. Her breathing sped up to the point of hyperventilation, and at the end of each ragged gasp, Twilight could hear a faint whimper of pain.

Twilight’s composure evaporated. She grabbed Sunset by the shoulders, panic seeping into her voice. “Sunset! Sunset, look at me! You have to hold on!”

Sunset’s only response was to shiver intensely, as if she were caught in a blizzard. Twilight’s mind raced to find a way to help, but all she managed to do was cry.

“No no no no... S-Sunset, please! Hold on!”

Then, Sunset stopped shaking. She went limp, and Twilight barely managed to catch her as she collapsed. Her blue eyes looked up, half-lidded and confused, but Twilight wasn’t sure if they saw anything at all.

“No!” Twilight cried out. Tears poured from her eyes, a few of them falling to stain Sunset’s white gown, which rose and fell more slowly with each pitiful breath.

“Sunset! Sunset!”

Sunset closed her eyes.

“Sunset...?”

Twilight's voice echoed infinitely across the dreamscape. There was no one else there to hear it.

Twilight wasn’t sure what she was looking for as she stepped out of the portal. In fact, her first observations made her wonder if there was anything to find at all.

The sky hung above her, painted with long bands of orange and gold. It had been early afternoon when Luna had arrived to see her, and by the time Twilight had made it through the portal, it was nearly nightfall. That wasn’t what bothered her, though.

Things seemed too... Okay. If this was truly a place that had driven Sunset Shimmer to take her own life, how could it now be so remarkably peaceful? Part of Twilight had expected to see some cataclysmic scar across the world, as if to mark the monumental loss that had just transpired. Instead, she saw the same trees, the same sky, the same ground, all unblemished, as if everything was as it should be.

She made her way away from the school, hoping against hope that she would find Sunset at the hospital, awake and happy to see her. As Twilight passed crosswalks and buildings, conversations between people echoed all around. She found herself turning away from anyone that looked at her. How many of them had been responsible for what happened? How many of them knew someone who was, or stood by and did nothing the whole time? How could they act so nonchalant, as if Sunset hadn’t died at all? They were horrible, all of them. They were horrible and they deserved exactly what...

Twilight scowled at herself. This wasn’t her. She knew most of these people probably had no idea who Sunset was. Besides, even if they did, Twilight wasn’t here for revenge. Was she? Truthfully, she didn't know why she was here at all. Maybe finding out was part of it.

Following the street signs, Twilight made her way deeper into the city. A map at a bus stop had given her a pretty good idea of where she was headed, but rather than wait for a vehicle full of people to assist her, she made her way on foot. She couldn’t be around them. Not right now.

By the time she reached her destination, the sun was long gone. A dim, hazy blue stretched over the night sky, with only a few stars peeking through the shade. As Twilight approached the hospital’s main entrance, she paused.

She hadn’t planned this far ahead. She hadn’t wanted to. What exactly was she going to see when she went inside? Playing things by ear had never been Twilight’s way of handling difficult situations, but this was something else entirely. She had never lost anyone before, and the circumstances only made the maelstrom of conflicting emotions all the more tumultuous. To meticulously plan out the coming events would have required her to dwell extensively on the reality. Even thinking about doing so was too much.

Was she crying? When did she start crying?

Screw it, she thought. She made her way through the automatic doors and walked to the front desk.

“Where is Sunset Shimmer?” Twilight spoke so quietly that she could barely hear herself, as if it had been her first time using her voice in a thousand years.

The woman behind the counter looked up at her, raising an eyebrow. “Say again?”

“Sunset Shimmer,” Twilight said, this time a little too loud. A few heads turned, but no one said anything.

The woman looked at the computer in front of her. Twilight frowned, recognizing the machine as one of the things responsible for tearing Sunset’s life apart. She contemplated saying something right then and there, but the woman behind the counter spoke up.

“Oh, hon...” Her voice was soft and sorrowful. “Your friend, she—”

“I know,” Twilight said. “I know. Where is she?”

“I’ll have someone take you,” the woman said. Twilight didn’t bother with a thank you.

The staff member that lead Twilight into the hospital made no effort to converse, which Twilight appreciated. As they made their way through long hallways and several double doors, she felt as though her mind was slowing down.

What was she even doing here? She was still crying. She’d only cry more. If any of the other girls were here, she’d probably scream, too. Should she take Sunset back to Equestria? No, she had never wanted to go back. It wouldn’t be right to take her in defiance of that. It didn’t matter anyway. For the first time in her life, she realized, Twilight didn’t want to plan ahead.

“In here,” the staff member said. “It’s just down the hall.”

Twilight looked up, having been lost in thought. The sign by the door read Intensive Care Unit.

“If it’s any consolation, she was surrounded by friends when she, uhm...” The staff member stopped mid-sentence. She gave Twilight a brief hug. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to say goodbye.”

Twilight said nothing as they walked inside.

“We haven’t moved her to the mortuary,” the staff member said. “She had no next of kin, so far as we could tell. These past couple of hours we’ve just been—”

“Me,” Twilight said. She was surprised by her own voice, and even more surprised as she kept talking. “She was my sister. By adoption. Our mother isn’t here, so it’s just me.”

“O-oh,” the staff member said. “If that’s the case, you’ll have to answer a few questions about...” She trailed off. “There’ll be time for that later,” she said.

The two of them approached a door that looked like any of the others that lined the hall. Twilight looked around, and saw the nurses’ station behind her. There were two women, and both of them appeared absolutely heartbroken. One was sitting in a chair with her head in her hands while the other looked at Twilight.

“It n-never gets any easier,” the nurse in the chair whimpered. Her colleague put an arm around her, gesturing for her to look up. When she did, she locked eyes with Twilight.

“Oh!” The nurse popped up. “Oh, sweetie, I didn’t—” She cut herself off as she stood up. “That is, I didn’t know Sunset had anyone else coming.” When the nurse saw the staff member with Twilight, her expression fell even deeper into sorrow.

“I’ll take her from here,” she said. Twilight watched as the nurse started to come to her, and saw the tag on her scrubs read Angie Redheart.

“I’d like to be alone with her,” Twilight said, her voice cracking. “My name’s Twilight. Sunset is my sister, and I want to be alone with her.” She could feel the pressure of anguish building up inside her, and while these women surely meant well, Twilight did not want to be around anyone but Sunset right now.

“In that case, well...” Redheart moved to the door. “I’m going to have to clear the room first.”

Twilight’s heart skipped a beat at that. The others were here. They’d see her. They’d want to talk to her. After what they did.

Redheart gave Twilight a brief embrace before opening the door. “Give me a moment, hon,” she said.

Twilight turned away in an instant. As if on instinct, she stepped behind the staff member that had led her here, using the woman as a shield. Trying to measure her breathing, Twilight closed her eyes and bit her tongue as voices started to come from the door.

“Twilight...?”

“What? She’s here?”

“Is she okay?”

“Girls,” Redheart said, “Twilight has asked to be alone with Sunset for a while. Is that alright with all of you?”

Four voices agreed, one by one.

“Rainbow Dash? Sweetie?” Redheart spoke softly. When there was no response, she continued. “I know this is hard. Why don’t you all come with me to the break room? I can make you some tea, if you’d like.”

Finally, Twilight heard another voice. It was raspy and breathless, and sounded like it was going to break apart any second.

“I’m not leaving her,” she heard Rainbow Dash say.

Something sparked in Twilight’s heart.

“You already did,” Twilight said. Her voice was hard and cold, and just loud enough so that the girls in the room would hear her.

Silence loomed for several seconds, then Twilight heard the sounds of chairs moving and people walking. There were no voices that followed her own, though.

She felt a hand on her shoulder, and turned to see Redheart with tears in her eyes. The nurse pulled her into another hug, and Twilight could feel the woman sobbing. She was still for a moment, then she wrapped her arms around Redheart and held her. She felt a bit of wetness on her shoulder as Redheart’s tears kept coming, until finally the nurse pulled away.

“Take as long as you need, Twilight,” Redheart said. “I’ll be just down the hall if you need anything.” With that, she turned and left to follow the other girls. Twilight watched the nurse disappear around the corner. She turned to the doorway, which was still slightly ajar.

Twilight pushed the door open and walked inside.

II - Nothing Left to Save

The hospital room housed a small bed, barely as long as Twilight was tall. Various medical instruments and machines hung lifelessly over it, their various screens and lights completely black. A plastic mask with a thick tube protruding from it, which Twilight assumed was for breathing assistance, rested uselessly on the sheets. And at the center of it all...

Twilight found herself unable to move further into the room.

There she was. Or, Twilight assumed as much. The girl in the bed looked nothing like the Sunset Shimmer Twilight had seen during her last visit to this world. Her entire frame was scrawny and frail, betraying the signs of malnutrition. What had previously been long locks of red and gold hair were reduced to a tangled mess of matted brown and orange. What shocked Twilight the most, though, was her face.

Her eyes were lightly closed, the bags beneath them extending out like black bruises that were only accentuated by her sickly pale skin. Her mouth was slightly open, frozen in the moment of its final breath. Twilight could still see a bit of dry blood caked in the corners of her lips, which were turned down as if Sunset’s last thoughts were of anguish and fear.

They had been. Twilight had seen it.

Seeing it again was too much. Twilight choked back a sob, stumbling back against the wall beside the door. How could she have let this happen? Her mind was a cacophony of self-berating and nightmarish memories of her last conversation with Sunset.

“I was tired... I was ready,” Sunset had confessed to her.

She had accepted dying. Yearned for it, and sought it out. And Twilight had only paid attention once it was far too late to make any difference. Now Sunset was gone, leaving nothing behind but a life that was too extensively damaged for Twilight to pick up the pieces.

“Please, just... Stay here. Stay with me,” Sunset had pleaded with her. “I d-don’t want to be alone when it happens.”

Sunset had been alone for so long. Twilight had left her in the care of people she barely knew, and only returned in a single time of crisis. Tears stung her eyes as she slid down the wall.

“Y’know, when it’s...” Sunset had whimpered with tears in her eyes. “When it’s time for me to go.”

“But it wasn’t!” Twilight screamed. She clambered over to the bed, collapsing beside it as she found and held Sunset’s cold hand beneath the sheet. “It wasn’t!”

She clung to Sunset, her lungs heaving with every broken sob. Twilight had allowed her friend to slip down a road so dark that Twilight had not even noticed it. And worse, it was not like she had missed signs or purposely ignored red flags. Rather, she had not bothered to look at all. Even once Sunset had slowed and eventually stopped corresponding with her, Twilight never made the effort to see if anything was seriously wrong. She had just assumed that whatever was going on, if it was anything at all, would work itself out.

Were Sunset there, Twilight wondered if she would have told her that things did work themselves out. How had she reached such a depth of misery and self-loathing?

Twilight sunk her head into her arm as the tears continued to stain the sheets. Her fingers intertwined with Sunset’s, as if hoping that a closer connection may bring warmth back to the girl in the bed. As she held on a little tighter, she felt something—a ridge running along the back of Sunset’s hand.

“I hurt myself,” Sunset had said. It had been Twilight’s first indication that whatever was happening to her friend was more than just a friendship problem.

Without thinking, she lifted the sheet over Sunset's arm, and immediately wished she hadn’t.

Twilight liked to think she was good at math, but even she could not begin to count the number of scars that littered Sunset’s skin. They were absolutely everywhere, and ranged from impossibly small cuts that could barely be seen, to horrid gashes of scar tissue that stretched thick and purple across her limb, and everything in between.

This was her fault. Every single one of these cuts was her fault.

As she stayed there, weeping over Sunset’s lifeless form, her eyes would periodically watch for any sign of movement. Even now, some foolish thing in the back of her head was hoping against hope that she would see Sunset’s chest rise and fall, and that maybe she just had not noticed until then.

What left was there to do? Sunset had been adamant that she did not want to return to Equestria, so taking her body back against her will was out of the question. The thought of leaving Sunset in this world that had so cruelly cast her aside made Twilight’s heart ache, but this had been Sunset’s home. And for however brief a time, she had been happy here.

So what, she was just supposed to leave her here?

What did it matter? Twilight shut her eyes, wishing for just a moment of mourning free from her nagging thoughts. And yet, the procedural aspect that normally dominated Twilight’s mind could not be silenced, even in her deepest grief.

Sunset would need to have a burial. And that meant a funeral. Twilight had honestly never attended a funeral before, let alone for someone she cared about so much. Was she supposed to plan it? Pay for it? Send out invitations to—whom, exactly?

The other girls. They were still here. They were in the building, just down the hall with Redheart, and they would want to speak with Twilight the second they got a chance. What was she supposed to say to them? What was she not supposed to say? Anger and betrayal combated a grim resolve to not sink to their level, and Twilight had no idea which side would win out.

How could the other girls have so callously tossed Sunset aside? It just didn’t make any sense. Sunset had said that after her years of tormenting all of them, they simply had no trust remaining for her to earn. At the time, Twilight had responded that she didn’t believe in such ultimatums, but now that she was seeing the aftermath...

No. Sunset couldn’t have been that bad. Even if she was, she had done so much to turn her life around and right all of her wrongs. No one deserved to give up on living because they placed their life in the hands of people who could never learn to forgive, Twilight resolved. The onus was on the other girls for turning their backs on Sunset in her most desperate moment. She would not let herself fall into the trap of blaming the victim, nor would she allow the other girls to twist this tragedy into a way to gain sympathy.

Yet in the brief interaction she had shared with the girls, they had each seemed genuinely heartbroken. And the staff member who had brought Twilight here had mentioned that Sunset was surrounded by friends when she passed.

Her mind continued doing flips, trying and failing to analyze every agonizing facet of a reality far too terrible to perceive in its entirety. Were Twilight to decide the other girls were irredeemable monsters and refused to allow them any chance for remorse, she would be falling into the same fallacy that had led to the girls abandoning Sunset. Was forgiveness absolute, even in the face of driving a friend to take her own life?

It could not be that black and white, but Twilight’s eyes were too clouded by tears to see any shades of grey. She hated those girls. She hated them. She trusted them to look after Sunset, and in their blind stupidity they took her away for good.

Twilight wiped her tears away. As she did her best to steady her breathing, her hand drifted over Sunset’s arm, feeling the bumps and ridges of each nick and cut.

This was all wrong. Twilight didn’t want to hate anyone. She didn’t want to feel that seizing, burning disgust every time she thought of them. They had been her friends too, and despite everything, they were just as despondent as Twilight herself.

She ran a hand over Sunset’s head, her fingers brushing through her hair. As they slid through the brown, tangled mess, she could see occasional flashes of crimson and gold.

“I don’t know what to do, Sunset,” she said.

There was no answer.

Twilight felt another surge of tears coming, and she buried her head in her arms once more.

“I-I hope,” Twilight said, her voice trembling, “I hope that you found the peace you couldn’t find here.” She glanced at Sunset as if expecting a response. When none came, she continued.

“I know you were in a lot of pain,” she said. “I know you never wanted anyone to feel the things that made you...” She trailed off, unable to complete that statement.

“I don’t understand,” she said. “I j-just don’t understand, Sunset. You were so strong, one of the strongest people I knew. Maybe I’ll never understand...”

There was a knock on the door.

“Excuse me, Twilight?” Redheart’s voice came through. “Are you alright, dear?”

She couldn’t bring herself to answer. After a moment, the door creaked open, and she heard footsteps behind her.

“Twilight?”

“Why?” Twilight said suddenly. “Why did she do this?”

Redheart knelt beside her. “I don’t know, hon,” she said. “It’s not fair. These things never are.”

Twilight felt an arm wrap around her. Her body trembled for a brief moment, then she collapsed into the nurse’s arms.

“I should have been here!” Twilight cried. “I never should have—!”

“Shhh, it’s alright, Twilight,” Redheart said. Twilight could feel that the nurse was crying too.

“It’s not alright!” Twilight said, her voice cracking. “She’s dead! Sunset is gone and—and I wasn’t there! I wasn’t there and she killed herself and I didn’t even know there was anything wrong!”

Redheart took a moment before responding. “Sometimes,” she said, “people with serious mental trauma do their best to hide it from people they care about. I’m sure you’re a wonderful sister, Twilight. If she never told you anything, she must have loved you a whole lot.”

Twilight could not stop herself. Her cries devolved into sobs, and finally into screams of despair. She screamed in the tiny room, in the nurse’s embrace, beside the girl whom she had let down. She screamed until she could not scream anymore.

When Twilight’s voice finally died down, her mind began to settle, if just a little bit. There were things to do. Arrangements to make. But before all that, she had questions that needed answers.

“Can you please take me to where you took the others?” Twilight said, her voice dry from screaming. “I need to speak with them.”

III - All the Same Mistakes

It was another ten minutes before they were moving through the hall in silence. Twilight had required time both to recollect her composure, and to build enough willpower to leave Sunset’s side. Exiting that tiny room was the hardest thing Twilight had ever done.

Redheart had implied that the break room where she had taken the other girls was very close by, yet time seemed to stretch into eternity as Twilight made her way there. Her heart pounded in her ears with every step, and her analytical mind fought the creeping dread of seeing her human friends with a calculated list of questions and demands she would have of them.

“It’s just in here,” Redheart said, snapping Twilight out of her anxious reverie. The two of them came to a unlabeled door inconspicuously hidden beside the restrooms. Twilight’s stomach was in knots as Redheart turned the knob.

“Girls?” The nurse called out, as if she wasn’t sure they were there. “How’s everyone doing?”

A series of barely audible mumbles and sighs were the reply. Twilight peeked past Redheart to see the break room, and saw five girls sunken into abject misery. Redheart turned and nodded to her, ushering her inside.

Applejack was sitting at a table in the center of the room, facing away from the door, with Rarity and Fluttershy in chairs beside her. Her hat was resting on the table before them, and Twilight could see that Applejack’s hands were curled into fists so tight that her hands were white.

Rarity had collapsed onto the table, with one arm stretched out and the other curled in to serve as a makeshift pillow. She wore a dull jacket with the hood pulled up, and Twilight could just barely make out Rarity’s expression beneath it—a completely blank stare. Fluttershy sat beside her with her head in her hands, filling the room with soft, trembling cries.

In the corner, Pinkie Pie sat on the ground, curled up into a ball. More than anything, she looked confused, like a child unsure of why they were being punished. Twilight was sure she heard Pinkie muttering something to herself, but whatever it was, she couldn’t make it out at all.

Rainbow Dash was in the opposite corner of the room, leaning against the wall. Her hands were stuffed into her pockets as she crossed and uncrossed her legs, staring at the floor. She appeared lost in thought, as though the events of the past few hours had not quite set in yet, and she was still deciding how she felt about it all.

As Twilight entered the room and closed the door behind her, Rarity was the first to look up and see her. She jumped in her seat, the noise startling Fluttershy into lowering her hands. All the girls stared at Twilight, and in that moment, all of her anticipated actions fell out from under her, and she felt a pressure building up behind her eyes. The tears began to fall, and all Twilight could manage to say was one word.

“Why...?”

The girls looked among themselves, as if each was expecting the others to answer. As the silent seconds ticked on, Twilight felt a different surge swelling within her.

“Why did my friend kill herself?” Twilight asked, her tone hardening with every word.

“It’s my fault,” Rainbow Dash blurted out. As Twilight looked at her, she could feel the edges of her anger softening. Rainbow Dash sunk a little further into the corner, like she was expecting Twilight to attack her. “Don’t be upset with the others, Twilight. I’m the reason Sunset’s gone,” she said.

“Now hold on a minute,” Applejack said. “Don’t go taking on all the blame, Dash. None of us took her at her word. We all pushed her out, and we’re all responsible.” Even as Applejack tried to comfort her friend, Twilight could hear her voice wavering.

“Just don’t, AJ,” Rainbow Dash said. “I’m the one who made her step off th-that...” Unable to finish her sentence, she fell to the floor, curled up in the same position as Pinkie Pie.

Twilight’s eyes scanned the room. Hostility and sadness rose and fell like sine waves, conflicting and intensifying each other with every crest. Twilight wanted to scream and shout and pound the wall. She wanted to embrace each of the girls in their lowest moment with the hopes that she could stave off their despair for however brief a time. She wanted to turn and run, run all the way back to the portal and shatter the mirror to leave this horrible place behind her forever.

“Tell me what happened,” Twilight said. Her tone was indecipherable, even to herself.

“Y’see,” Pinkie Pie said, “there’s this site where people were—”

“I already know,” Twilight interrupted, which Pinkie flinched at. “Tell me what happened to Sunset.”

“Uhm...” Rarity spoke up. “People thought she was the one spreading secrets around,” she said. “It seemed like the things going up could only have come from her, and it was all so embarrassing and personal and we were all so angry...”

Twilight watched as Rainbow Dash raised her head just enough to look Twilight in the eyes. “I said some really awful things to her,” Rainbow Dash said. “And on the night she jumped, I...” She trailed off as she looked away again.

Twilight took a deep breath. “Rainbow Dash, I’m going to ask you something, and I need you to tell me the truth,” she said. As she did, she realized she was speaking in the same voice Celestia had used the few times she had scolded Twilight as a child. Even as she tried to mimic the princess’ composure, she thought of what Sunset had told her about the night she had tried to die, and tears and fury bubbled up inside her.

“Did you tell Sunset to kill herself?”

The gasps of the other girls filled the room. For a split second, everything was completely silent.

“What? N-no!” Rainbow Dash shouted. “Why would you even—?”

“Because she did,” Twilight said. “Just after she saw you.”

At that, Rainbow Dash shut her mouth. She curled into an even tighter ball and buried her head in her knees.

“Twilight...” Fluttershy’s voice was barely above a whisper, so much so that Twilight strained to hear. “Please don’t be too hard on Rainbow Dash. She and Rarity, uhm...” She glanced up at her, and Twilight could see terror in Fluttershy’s pleading eyes. “They saw...”

“Saw?” It took Twilight a moment to realize what she meant. “O-oh, you mean... Oh.”

Twilight felt as though she’d been punched in the gut. Why did she say that? She knew Rainbow Dash would never have said anything so awful, and yet she’d asked anyway. Was it just to hurt someone who was already in agony? Why would she ever do something like that? Twilight didn’t want to hurt anyone, and yet here she was, actively seeking to drag Rainbow Dash even deeper into despair.

Without a word, she crossed the room and stood before Rainbow Dash. As she did, the room went quiet, as if the other girls were holding their breath.

“Rainbow Dash,” she said. Rainbow Dash looked up, her eyes wide with fear and brimming with tears. Twilight motioned for her to stand, which she did, albeit slowly.

Twilight looked at the girl before her. She thought of Sunset, reduced to such a state of misery that she took her own life, all because her friends had abandoned her and tormented her in her darkest moment.

Twilight would not do the same now.

She pulled Rainbow Dash into a hug, resting her head on her friend’s shoulder. For a moment, Rainbow Dash seemed frozen. Then, she lurched forward and fell into Twilight’s arms, her entire body shaking as she cried out all her sorrow.

Twilight closed her eyes, holding her sobbing friend a little tighter. “Why don’t you four go see Sunset? We’ll be behind you shortly.”

There were a few murmurs of agreement, and the girls started to leave. As Twilight listened to them go, she felt a hand on her back.

“Thank you,” Fluttershy whispered. Twilight did not reply.

After the other girls were gone, Rainbow Dash finally spoke up. “How c-could you forgive m-m-me so easily?” She sobbed, her voice cracking.

Twilight pulled back, keeping her hands on Rainbow Dash’s shoulders. “I haven’t,” she said. “I don’t know if I ever will.”

Rainbow Dash just stared at her. “B-but then why...?”

“That doesn’t mean I want you to suffer,” Twilight said. “There’s been enough of that already.”

“Twilight...” Rainbow Dash shivered, then broke down crying again. Twilight said nothing, and only pulled her into an embrace once more.

IV - Chances

The next morning, Twilight sat in complete silence in the passenger’s seat of Applejack’s truck. They had set out for Canterlot High School, with Twilight intent on retrieving Sunset’s journal. It was a Saturday, and while the school was open for extra-curricular activities, there would be very few people there. If she found the journal, with any luck Spike would have the other book nearby and could receive a message without Twilight having to return through the portal. The idea of once again leaving Sunset alone in this world was one she couldn’t bear to consider.

She had turned down several offers at a place to stay the night, opting instead to sleep in a chair in the hospital’s waiting room. Sore and exhausted as she was, she didn’t regret it—had she stayed with one of the girls, it would have meant being further from Sunset, as well as even more tension.

During the night, Twilight had repeatedly mulled over the day’s events in her mind. After she’d told the other girls to leave, she had spent several hours listening to Rainbow Dash struggle to express all the sordid details of Sunset’s death. As the story had progressed, Twilight found herself becoming progressively angrier and more concerned for the girl telling it.

Rainbow Dash remembered everything a little too well, from the words she’d said to Sunset on the night of her fall, to the minute details of the empty glance Sunset had given her atop the parking garage. What had stuck with Rainbow Dash more than anything though, as she’d kept repeating, was the sound Sunset made on impact. She had described it so many times—a dull thud masking several sickening cracks—that when Twilight closed her eyes, she could almost hear it herself.

Even as her anger towards the girls had continued to swell and recede, Twilight had been unable to prevent herself from once again offering comfort to a sobbing Rainbow Dash. Why had she done that? Rainbow herself had said that Sunset was dead because of her actions—actions Twilight was now keenly aware of—and yet Twilight couldn’t help but try and make her feel better. Her own kind nature was driving her further into spite, and she shuddered at the thought of where that path could lead her.

So when Applejack came to pick her up, Twilight had not said a word. Was that a healthy way to process this? Was there a healthy way to process this? For that matter, what did processing Sunset’s death even mean? It’s not like Twilight could just think about it really hard until she didn’t feel bad anymore. Talking to any of the girls was only further tainting her despair with anger, so that was a terrible idea. Maybe it didn’t matter what she did. Maybe her heart was now just as scarred as Sunset’s lifeless body, damaged beyond repair.

Twilight rested her head on the window of the car. She could feel every bump and vibration as the truck made its way through the city, past countless pedestrians. She found herself wondering how many of them had lost someone the way she had. Suicide in Equestria was an unbelievably rare event, but here? Surely it must be a more common occurrence if people treated each other the way they had treated Sunset. Twilight was still shocked at how quickly suspicion of Sunset had turned to malice, as if all the students were simply waiting for an excuse to condemn her.

Applejack had remained silent as she drove, though as the school building came into view, Twilight could see her glancing to the side, as if she were wondering how to approach a conversation.

“So, if you don’t mind me asking...” Applejack finally spoke. “What is it you’re planning to do once we get there?”

Twilight didn’t bother to look away from the window. “I need to get Sunset’s journal, and she told me it was there.”

“When was that?” Applejack asked.

“Doesn’t matter,” Twilight said. Explaining how she had witnessed Sunset’s final moments would require her to relive that memory, something she was not prepared to do. “What’s important is getting the journal.”

“Uhm... If you say so,” Applejack said. She pulled the truck into the school’s parking lot. “So, how’re you holding up?”

“Nnngh...” Twilight couldn’t help but groan. “Applejack, I really don’t want to talk right now, okay?”

Applejack turned away. “Alright. I don’t blame you, to be honest. I don’t want to be having this conversation either, or any conversation for that matter.”

Twilight only nodded as she unlocked the door.

“And yet...” Applejack continued, causing Twilight to stop. “We gotta have it, Twilight. Pretending otherwise just ain’t being fair to you, or to me.”

Twilight let out a sigh. As much as she hated it, as much as her mind fought to convince her that stoicism would see her through this, she knew Applejack was right. Still, being an initially unwilling participant came with a degree of exasperation that carried into Twilight’s tone.

“Well?” Twilight said, turning in her seat to face Applejack. “You want to talk? Talk.”

“I... I get it, Twilight. You’re mad. I’d be pretty confused if you weren’t, really.” Applejack looked her in the eyes. “But I hope you know none of us wanted this to happen.”

“It did, though,” Twilight said. “I don’t care what your intentions were then, and I don’t care what they are now. Remorse won’t bring Sunset back.”

“Nothing will bring her back, hon,” Applejack said. “I know that hurts to hear. It hurts to say, too.”

“Do you think I don’t know that?” Twilight’s voice rose a bit. “I don’t need you to tell me that it hurts!”

“I hear you,” Applejack said. “I never meant to imply you weren’t suffering too. I just want you to know you don’t have to go through this alone.”

Twilight’s eyes narrowed. “Is that what you told Sunset when I asked you to look after her?”

“I... Twilight, I know how upset you are,” Applejack said. “And you’ve got every right to be. If taking that anger out me will make you feel better, then go right ahead.” Even as Applejack spoke, Twilight could see tears brimming in her eyes, and she felt her stomach drop.

“I-I didn’t...” Twilight trailed off, unsure of what to say.

“But hate won’t make you feel better, will it?” Applejack said. “You know that better than anyone.”

Twilight thought back to what she had said to Rainbow Dash the night before, and the overwhelming guilt that followed. “Y-yeah,” she said. “Yeah, I do know.”

“It’s not easy to avoid,” Applejack replied. “A few years ago, when my parents passed in an accident, I was so keen on finding someone to blame. The driver, the doctors, the folks who made the car... Anyone, so long as I had a name I could focus the pain on. But all it did was make me feel worse and worse.”

Applejack looked over, and Twilight felt a hand tentatively cover her own. “And unlike me, you do got people to blame, and rightly so,” Applejack said. “You got me, the other girls, the whole dang school if we’re being honest. And I won’t say you’re wrong for hating every single one of us.”

“I.. I don’t want to hate anyone,” Twilight said.

“I know you don’t,” Applejack said. “And you don’t have to. But the longer you avoid talking to the people who hurt you, the worse that hurt’s gonna be. If I’d just taken a moment to talk to Sunset—to really listen to her—w-we...” She looked up at Twilight, her green eyes laced with tears. “We wouldn’t be having this conversation, would we?”

Twilight had no idea how to respond. Part of her yearned to embrace Applejack, to tell her it was all okay and nothing was her fault. That wasn’t true though, and Twilight was certain Applejack knew that, too.

“I suppose we wouldn’t,” Twilight said.

“Yeah,” Applejack said, her voice growing softer. “But I didn’t, s-so here we are...”

The two of them sat in uneasy silence. Applejack’s hand was still holding Twilight’s own, and Twilight could feel the other girl tremble slightly with every breath. She thought of Rainbow Dash the night before, shaking and sobbing in her arms, and suddenly Twilight felt the same surge of contempt for her own anger that she’d felt as she’d held Rainbow Dash.

“You didn’t give Sunset a chance,” Twilight said. She squeezed Applejack’s hand. “But I can give one to you.”

For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, Twilight felt Applejack’s hand squeeze back.

The two of them stayed like that for a while, until the school’s clock tower rang out. Applejack was the first to speak.

“Want me to come with you?”

Twilight shook her head. “That’s alright. I can find it on my own.”

“I gotcha. Oh, and before you go, I have something for you,” Applejack said. She reached into her pocket and produced a small phone. “Rarity gave me this last night. All our numbers are programmed in already, so just flip it open and click a name, and you’ll be able to reach any of us.”

Twilight took the device, opening it slowly. “Thanks,” she said. “Tell Rarity I, uhm, appreciate it.”

“Well I’m not going anywhere just yet,” Applejack said. “If you wanna go looking for the journal by yourself, that’s fine. You’re gonna need someone to drive you places, though.”

“Applejack, you don’t have to—”

“Don’t you worry about it, Twilight. I’d rather not spend the day alone, anyhow,” Applejack said.

Twilight nodded, giving Applejack a faint smile. “I’ll see you when I get back then.”

“I’ll be here,” Applejack said, nodding.

With that, Twilight exited the truck and made her way into the school.

V - Washed Away

As Twilight entered through Canterlot High’s double doors, she found herself in its enormous front hall. The school was nearly deserted, given that it was a Saturday, and the silence reminded Twilight of the first time she had stepped into this building, so long ago. If only she had realized back then what a toxic and damaging place it truly was. Maybe if she had, Sunset would still be alive.

Twilight shook her head. She had to stay focused. She remembered what she and Applejack had just discussed, about how anger and spite would only deepen her despair. And yet, true as it was that Twilight didn’t want to hate anyone, it still seemed an impossible task to let go of her emotions. How was she supposed to just not be upset with the people responsible for Sunset’s suicide? To deny her anger would be to deny the reality of what had happened to her friend, right?

It didn’t matter. She needed to find Sunset’s locker, and the journal that lay within. Princess Celestia deserved to know what had happened, but there was no way Twilight was going to leave Sunset alone in this world again. The journal seemed like a good compromise to her self-imposed ultimatum.

Only after stomping aimlessly through the halls for a good ten minutes did Twilight realize she had no idea where Sunset’s locker was, nor how to get in. Just as with her visit to the hospital, Twilight had neglected to plan ahead, and now she was paying the price once again.

Twilight stopped in an intersection of halls, glancing down each one to see endless rows of lockers. How was she supposed to find which one of these was Sunset’s? She let out a groan, her clenched fist striking the wall of lockers with a muffled clunk.

“Twilight?”

A voice called out behind her. She recognized it, and looked down one of the halls to see Flash Sentry looking from around a corner.

Just great, Twilight thought, her expression souring. The last thing she needed right now was awkward flirting. And yet, when she looked at Flash, there was no hint of blushing or a sheepish grin. He just stared, looking somewhat confused. Finally Flash spoke again.

“What are you doing here?” Flash asked, his tone entirely flat.

Twilight paused, unsure of how to answer. Did he know about Sunset? Probably, given how fast information seemed to spread in this world. If he didn’t, though, Twilight did not want to be the one to break the news to him. She also wondered how much of a role Flash had played in the torment that drove Sunset to take her own life. Despite having no facts one way or the other, Twilight felt a pang of disdain run through her, only to find it tempered by a sudden realization—Flash probably knew where Sunset’s locker was.

“I’m, uhm... I’m looking for Sunset’s locker,” Twilight said.

“Oh,” Flash said. “You’re looking for her journal, right?”

Twilight blinked. “Uh, y-yeah. How did you know about—?”

“It's over here,” Flash said, then he disappeared down the other hall. Twilight hurried after him.

As she rounded the corner, Twilight saw Flash standing before an open locker. The floor around him was covered in various books and binders, each neatly labeled in Sunset’s own swirly handwriting. Dozens of index cards and scraps of paper with curses and threats were scattered all over. Beside the pile of papers was Flash’s backpack, as well as a bucket of soapy water with a couple of big sponges floating at its surface. Looking up, Twilight realized that the locker door was absolutely covered in various insults and jeers. They were scribbled across its surface, and everywhere Twilight looked, she saw faded lines of ink spelling out even more cruel taunts.

Traitor.

Liar.

Back-stabber.

Freak.

Monster.

She-Demon.

“People started tagging her locker pretty soon after the first few secrets went up,” Flash said. “The school was cleaning ‘em off every day, but people kept writing more. When Sunset stopped attending, the school just gave up.” He slammed the locker door shut. “They weren’t the only ones.”

“So now you’re cleaning up her locker,” Twilight said.

“And cleaning it out,” Flash said, gesturing to the notebooks and paper scraps littering the floor. He picked up one of the sponges, squeezing the excess water out. “Someone has to. Might as well be me.”

As Flash began scrubbing the ink off the locker door, Twilight found herself in the throes of doubt and anger once more. Why hadn’t he bothered to do this before Sunset died? What good was cleaning off these horrible words going to do now? If anything, they ought to stand as a reminder, a monument to the torture these people had put Sunset through. Maybe he was doing it out of guilt. Maybe he was trying to erase what he’d done.

“Did you write some of these?” Twilight asked, her voice cold.

Flash looked at her, his face completely blank. “No,” he said, then turned back to scrubbing.

“O-oh,” Twilight stammered. “Sorry.”

“Whatever.”

Twilight berated herself. How many times was she going to stumble into blind rage and say something hurtful and stupid? Had she always been this capable of saying awful things? As she glanced at the words on the locker once more, Twilight wondered how many of the people who’d written them were feeling the same guilt as she was right now.

“So you, uhm...” Twilight spoke, the taste of lashing out still bitter on her tongue. “You know where Sunset’s journal is?”

“It’s in my bag,” Flash said. “Why?”

“I need to contact someone back in Equestria,” Twilight said. “I would go through the portal, but I just... I don’t want to leave Sunset alone here.”

Flash glanced over at her, his blue eyes hardening. “Hasn’t stopped you before.”

“Excuse me?” Twilight said. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re too smart to pretend you don’t know,” Flash said.

In an instant, Twilight found herself back in the boiling depths of rage. She slammed her fist against the locker. “You’ve got something to say to me? Say it.”

Flash gave her one more glare, then turned away. He crouched down and opened his bag, pulling Sunset’s sun-emblazoned journal from within. He stood, opened the book to a page in the middle and handed it to Twilight.

“Explain this to me,” Flash said, his tone as harsh as Twilight’s had been moments earlier.

As Twilight’s eyes scanned the page, she recognized it as the final message she had written to Sunset.

Sometimes all you can do is stay strong.

The reminders of her failure came rushing back. When Sunset had reached out for help, Twilight was caught up in her work as a princess regarding the Hearth’s Warming Eve celebrations. In response, she had sent some generic advice and assured herself, and Sunset, that everything would work out in the end.

Stay yourself.

Twilight had been convinced that the girls she had met in Sunset’s world were the same has her friends in Equestria. She had no doubt they would return to Sunset and welcome her with open arms and heartfelt apologies. Twilight had paid such little mind to the details of Sunset’s crisis that by the time of her final conversation with Sunset, she had forgotten about it entirely.

And find your family.

That’s exactly what Sunset had been trying to do when she first reached out, Twilight realized. And in response, Twilight had brushed Sunset’s concerns aside and left her to suffer. And when Sunset never wrote back, Twilight had thought nothing of it.

As she looked over the words again and again, Twilight felt even more sickened than she had when reading the insults on Sunset’s locker.

“She never wrote back after that,” Flash’s voice broke her out of her piteous stupor. He turned through the pages in Twilight’s hands. Every single one following Twilight’s message was completely blank.

“I-I...” Twilight stammered. “I should written h-her more.”

“That’s not what I...” Flash turned away. “Y’know what? You got what you came for, and I’ve got work to do.” He picked up his sponge and resumed scrubbing the locker. “See you around, Twilight.”

Twilight bit her lip, tears stinging her eyes. “I understand if you hate me,” she said.

“I don’t hate you, Twilight,” Flash said. “I just... I don’t get you.”

“What do you mean?” Twilight asked.

With a sigh, Flash plopped the sponge back into the bucket. “What I mean is, you worked so hard to turn Sunset’s life around. You put all this effort into helping her become a better person, find friends, all that stuff. But when she kills herself, you show up and start attacking anything that moves, without even acknowledging who’s really to blame for all this.”

“You mean Scootaloo and her friends?” Twilight asked. Rainbow Dash had told her who was behind the account that had wreaked so much havoc. “I’m sure I'll talk to them soon enough, but I’m not going to scream at them or anything, if that’s what you want. I’m sure they feel terrible enough as—”

“You don’t get it, do you?” Flash interrupted her.

“If I don’t get it, then explain it to me,” Twilight said.

Flash took a deep breath before turning to face her. “Who killed Sunset?” Twilight could hear the faintest of cracks in his voice.

“I don’t... What?” Twilight blinked, unsure of what to say. Wasn’t it obvious? “The students who tormented her,” she said.

Flash shook his head.

“And the girls who framed her,” Twilight said. When Flash shook his head again, she continued, frustration creeping into her voice. “And the friends who abandoned her.”

Flash shrugged and turned away. “I shouldn’t be surprised. Feels like I’m the only one who’ll really say it.”

“Say what?” Twilight felt a sense of unease permeate her as she asked.

“Seriously?” Flash spun around, suddenly shouting. “Sunset! She’s the one who decided to throw herself off a building, Twilight! Nobody forced her!”

All at once, Twilight’s head was spinning. “You can’t be serious,” she said. “She was consumed by depression! I hate that she’s gone too, but I’m not going to blame her for how she was treated!”

“I don’t blame her for how she was treated,” Flash said. “I blame her for what she did about it. There were a million other options she could have chosen from—asking the principal to do something, getting the police involved, transferring to another school...” With every word, Flash’s voice grew louder and shakier. “But instead of doing any of that, she chose to leave, just like she always does!”

“Flash...” Twilight spoke softly. She wanted to scream at him, just as he was screaming at her. And yet, in his blue eyes brimming with tears, she saw a sincere grief that she couldn’t bring herself to scold. She reached a hand forward, only for him to step back.

“And you!” Flash kept shouting. “She trusted you, she reached out to you!”

In that moment, Twilight realized something.

Flash's face was red. “Where were you, huh? Why weren’t you there for her? Why was no one there for her? Why wasn’t—!”

His cries were silenced as Twilight pulled him into an embrace.

“It’s not your fault, Flash,” she told him. When he answered with silence, she continued. “I mean it, okay? It’s not your fault. And it's not my fault either, or Sunset’s. Trying to figure out who to blame is only going to make us hurt even more.”

“I d-don’t understand,” Flash finally said. “How are you not angry...?”

“I am angry, Flash. I’m angry at myself, at Sunset, at her friends... I’m angry at everyone I see. But...” Twilight pulled away, looking up to see Flash’s tear-stained face. “I have to remind myself that people acting out of anger is what started this whole mess." She looked at the graffiti-stained locker, and Flash's gaze followed.

"Y-yeah," he said. "I guess so."

"There’s a difference between feeling anger and acting on anger," Twilight said. "Nothing is going to get better if we just repeat the same cycle of blame and hatred that took Sunset away.”

Flash said nothing, his gaze squarely on the floor. Twilight looked at him, and then at the locker, then at the bucket on the floor.

“C’mon,” she said, reaching into the bucket and grabbing one of the sponges. “There’s still a lot left to clean up.”

Twilight saw the faintest of smiles on Flash’s face. Without a word, he picked up the other sponge, and the two of them resumed cleaning Sunset’s locker.

As morning passed into afternoon, Twilight said her goodbyes to Flash. With Sunset’s journal in hand, she made her way back to the front of the school.

Now, she realized, came the hardest part. She sat on a bench in the front hall, and opened the journal to a blank page. With a click of a pen Flash had given her, Twilight’s limbs tensed, and she began to write.

Spike,

I need you to do exactly as I tell you. On the page opposite this one will be a letter to Princess Celestia. Send it to her as soon as you can, and let me know once you’ve done so.

Twilight lifted the pen and thought for a second. Were Spike to learn of Sunset’s suicide, it would leave him devastated, and one of two things would happen. Either he would come running through the portal immediately and not send the letter to Celestia, or he would wait all alone until Twilight could return, stewing in confusion and misery. Neither seemed preferable.

And Spike, before I write that letter, I need you to promise me that you won’t read it. I know how strange that is, I really do, and I wish I didn’t have to ask that of you. Just please trust me on this, okay? I promise I’ll explain everything when I come home.

With that, Twilight shut the book and sighed. Her own journal in Equestria was in her library, so with any luck Spike would notice the buzzing book soon enough. In the meantime, she decided to stay at the school. As much as she appreciated Applejack waiting for her, and as much as she had taken her words to heart, Twilight was still not in the mood for company or conversation.

Just then, she heard a familiar buzzing sound. Scrambling, Twilight flipped the journal open and read the message inside.

I understand, Twilight. As soon as you send the letter to the princess, I’ll send it off and I promise I won’t peek. Oh, and Princess Luna is still here. She asked me to tell you that if need be, she can handle the Sun for Princess Celestia, whatever that’s about.

I hope everything is okay over there. Stay safe, okay?

Twilight couldn’t help but smile. She could always count on Spike, no matter what. She quickly wrote a response.

Thank you, Spike. You’re the best friend and assistant I could ever hope for. I’ll see you soon.

And yet, as Twilight held Sunset’s journal in her hands, something clawed at her from within, and her smile faded. When Sunset had used this journal, she had probably believed that she could always count on Twilight, too. And when Sunset needed her most, Twilight had let her down.

No, she told herself. It wasn’t her fault. And she needed to stay focused. Twilight clicked the pen and began writing.

Dear Princess Celestia...

VI - Finding the Words

Twilight sat cross-legged in the grass beside the portal’s statue, taking deep, shaky breaths. Her eyes were closed, and Sunset’s journal was laying open in her lap. Innumerable sounds whispered through the world around her—tires on asphalt, rustling leaves, gentle gusts of wind—yet all she could hear was the murmuring thump of her heart in her ears. With every beat, she closed her eyes a little tighter.

Despite Twilight’s initial intentions, she had been unable to inform Celestia of Sunset’s passing. A letter was such an impersonal medium, and it would be wildly insensitive and inappropriate, given the circumstances. Instead, all she had managed to write was that there was an extremely urgent matter regarding Sunset Shimmer, and that Celestia needed to come through the portal so Twilight could explain in person. This was followed by several apologies for such an unusual request.

Groaning, Twilight raised her head to look at the portal. She had sent the letter maybe half an hour ago, but had heard nothing since. In that time, all she had done was sit by the portal and ruminate with dread on what she was going to say when Celestia arrived. This was going to be the hardest thing she had ever done.

Twilight realized she’d been thinking that a lot lately.

Part of her regretted having not told the princess more in the letter, yet another insisted that this was the right decision. Truthfully, Twilight was unsure of the nature of Sunset and Celestia’s relationship. After Twilight’s initial report regarding her first journey to this world, the princess had never again asked about Sunset, or even mentioned her. The idea of Celestia abandoning and forgetting a personal student stung Twilight to her core. Was whatever happened between them truly as bitter as Sunset implied?

As Twilight thought of what little Sunset had told her about Celestia, she recognized a common sentiment in everything Sunset had said. For whatever reason, she had been terrified of Celestia. While Twilight certainly dealt with anxiety regarding the princess, she had never once felt the kind of raw fear that Sunset had expressed.

The more Twilight thought about it, the more it bothered her. The Celestia she knew was kind and gentle as could be, yet Sunset seemed convinced that the princess despised her. There were so many details Twilight didn’t know. Even still, she found herself plagued by doubts about what would happen when she told Celestia that Sunset was gone.

Maybe Celestia would stare in disbelief. Maybe she would cry. Maybe she would drag Twilight back through the portal and destroy the mirror.

Maybe she wouldn’t even care.

No, Twilight told herself. That wasn’t right. Celestia was the most compassionate pony Twilight had ever met, and she would surely be as devastated as Twilight was, if not more so.

Just then, the wall of marble beneath the statue began to glow. Twilight shot up in an instant, wiping grass and dust off herself, and took a single steady breath.

She could do this. She had to do this.

As the portal’s glow dimmed, Twilight reflexively knelt down. She looked up to see a regal figure who could only be Princess Celestia.

Despite her royalty, Celestia appeared remarkably plain. She wore a long white dress that stretched down to the ground. A white gown, Twilight realized, almost exactly like the one Sunset had been wearing when she had died in her arms.

Burying the thought, Twilight rose, still keeping her head down. “Thank you for coming, Princess Celestia.”

“I have not been to this place in many, many years,” Celestia said. “I do not believe I am a princess here, though.”

“I-I suppose not,” Twilight said. Her heart was pounding in her ears again. “Regardless, I really appreciate your expediency.”

“It is good to see you, Twilight.” Celestia placed a finger beneath Twilight’s chin and gently lifted her gaze. “I only wish it were under better circumstances,” The princess’s eyes seemed to harden. “What has Sunset Shimmer done this time?”

Twilight’s breath caught in her throat. “I-it’s, uhm...”

“It is alright, Twilight,” Celestia said. “Whatever damage she has done, we can undo. But first you must tell me what has happened.”

“It’s not like that,” Twilight said. “Sunset didn’t go back to her old ways. That’s not why I asked you to come here.”

Celestia raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? For what purpose, then?”

Twilight could feel the pressure of tears building in her eyes. She couldn't say it. Why couldn't she say it?

“Something... S-something happened to Sunset...” Twilight began, and as she spoke, her composure began to crumble. “She... S-she...”

Twilight was overcome with tears, and she dropped to her knees. She couldn’t do this. She had to do this, but she couldn’t.

An arm pulled her close, and Twilight realized that Celestia was embracing her.

“Breathe, Twilight,” Celestia told her. The princess sat on the grass beside her. “Please continue.”

Twilight nodded, yet despite her attempts to slow her breathing, her cries never ceased. This was all wrong. She couldn’t do this.

“Please, Twilight,” Celestia said, her voice tinged with trepidation. “I need you to tell me what’s wrong.”

Through the blur of tears, Twilight could see the princess was looking at her. She had never seen Celestia look so concerned as she did right now.

“She’s gone...”

The words escaped Twilight’s lips before she knew she was even speaking. Before her, Celestia’s face was overcome with an emotion Twilight couldn’t quite describe.

“What do you mean?” Celestia asked.

“Sunset wrote to me a few months ago, and... And I didn’t pay enough attention, and she lost her f-friends and s-she was all alone here and she was hurting herself a-and..." Twilight took a breath. "She couldn't take it anymore, and...”

Despite her intentions, despite the princess’s pleading, despite everything, Twilight couldn’t bring herself to say the words. Instead, she watched in silence as the realization dawned on Celestia. The princess's face shifted from concern to terror.

"You mean she tried to...?" Celestia trailed off, as if she too was incapable of speaking those words.

Twilight could only nod.

“Where is she?” Celestia’s voice wavered. “Where is Sunset now?”

“At the hospital,” Twilight said. "They took her there after she fell, b-but..."

With her whole body trembling, Twilight forced herself to speak with every ounce of resolve she had left.

“She... She died last night...”

In that moment, it was as if the entire world had stopped breathing. Celestia stared at her, unblinking. Twilight sat motionless beside her, her whimpers lost in the wind. After a beat, Celestia pulled Twilight close, and Twilight could feel that she was trembling a bit.

“Thank you for telling me this, Twilight,” Celestia said. “May I ask one more thing of you?”

“What is it?” Twilight asked.

“Please...” Celestia pulled away and looked at Twilight with tear-stained eyes. “Take me to her.”

VII - Afraid and Alone

“Y’all buckled up?” Applejack said.

Twilight found herself stuffed between Applejack and Celestia in the tiny seating of the truck.

“Uh-huh,” Twilight replied. Beside her, the princess said nothing, instead staring out the window.

Twilight studied her mentor, confusion on her face. How was Celestia being so calm? Maybe the truth just hadn’t set in yet, or maybe she was so heartbroken that she was lost for words. Then again, maybe she wasn’t. Maybe Sunset was never as close to the princess as Twilight was.

The more Twilight thought about it, the more she realized how different Sunset’s relationship with Celestia was from her own. Sunset herself had said Celestia would never allow her to come home. She had even wondered if her suicidal self-hatred was Celestia’s curse for her running away. Surely Sunset had been speaking metaphorically, but for such a thought to even cross her mind...

Twilight shook her head. Sunset hadn’t been thinking clearly, she told herself. Depression clouded the mind, after all. Sunset’s past actions certainly would have earned the princess’ disappointment, but never her contempt.

However, Twilight recalled how Celestia’s first assumption upon exiting the portal had been that Sunset was causing trouble. She must have still been upset with Sunset, or at the very least distrusted her. Twilight had never known the princess to hold grudges, but it was plainly obvious that Celestia harbored some resentment towards her former student.

Twilight looked over at the the princess, who was as still and silent as ever. Truthfully, her composure was making Twilight very, very uncomfortable. Was this how the she would react if something similar happened to Twilight? Sure, Celestia had never been very emotional, but something about her demeanor felt wrong in a way Twilight couldn’t quite explain.

Twilight continued to fill the silence with intense contemplation, and as she did, her expression soured. When she had first come to this world, Celestia had warned her of potential peril, yet when Sunset had run off to this world all on her own, Celestia had just let her go.

How could she have done that? If she’d suspected what lay beyond the portal was so dangerous, why had she never bothered to come after Sunset? Perhaps Celestia had hoped Sunset to return on her own. Then again, maybe she had expected Sunset to succumb to the dangers beyond the mirror. In either case, doing nothing seemed callous.

Twilight glanced over at the princess, frowning. From what she had witnessed, Sunset’s intense self-loathing entirely dominated her mind. Considering the princess’ inaction, it was no wonder she thought Celestia despised her.

“Umph—!”

Twilight was snapped out of her obsessive reverie by the shaking of the truck as Applejack drove over a speedbump.

“Know where you’re going from here?” Applejack asked. She pulled the truck up to the curb, and Twilight realized they were just beside the main entrance to the hospital.

“I remember, yes,” Twilight said. “I can’t say how long we’ll be, though. It’d probably be best if you went home for the evening.”

“Nothin’ doin’.” Applejack shook her head. “No way am I letting you sleep on a waiting room chair two nights in a row. I’ll be here when y’all are done, then we’ll head back to my place.”

Celestia opened the door and rose from her seat without a word. Twilight watched with increasing unease as the princess stared up at the lines of windows along the front of the building, her expression unreadable. Finally, she looked over to Twilight, her silence tinged with impatience.

“O-oh, uhm, right,” Twilight said. “Thank you for driving us here, Applejack.”

Applejack nodded. “Sure thing. I’ll see y’all soon.”

As Applejack drove off, Celestia finally spoke up. “We will not be staying here tonight,” she said. Before Twilight could respond, she pushed through the hospital doors without a word, leaving Twilight to scurry in behind her.

“What do you mean, she isn’t here?” Celestia’s brow furrowed at the nurse. “Where have you taken her?”

Twilight stood behind the princess, nervously rocking back and forth. The nurse she’d spoken to before—Redheart, she remembered—was withering beneath Celestia’s glare, and Twilight couldn’t help but feel a little guilty.

Redheart squirmed for a moment, adjusting the tag affixed to her hospital scrubs. “As I said, Miss Celestia...”

“Princess Celestia.”

The nurse blinked. “Yes, well you see, when any patient has, uhm, passed away...” Twilight noticed Celestia tense up at the phrase.

Redheart continued. “Hospital procedure requires that we move them to the mortuary while we await instructions from next of kin.” When Celestia said nothing, Redheart spoke up again. “If I may ask, how did you know Sunset Shimmer?”

After a pause, Celestia responded. “I was her teacher for many years.” The princess’ voice was tinged with an emotion Twilight could not name. “I am here to bring her home.”

The nurse shook her head. “I’m sorry, but any decisions about where she goes from here are to be left to her next of kin.”

“Sunset Shimmer has no next of kin,” Celestia said, her words stiffening.

“Really? It was my understanding that her sister visited her earlier,” the nurse said.

“Is that right?” Celestia said.

For a moment, Twilight was as confused as Celestia. Sunset never had a—

“...Oh.”

Twilight’s memories of her first visit to this hospital flooded back to her, and suddenly a rush of regretful dread left her shuddering. It only intensified as Celestia slowly pivoted, her gaze landing squarely on Twilight’s sheepish expression.

“Uhm, Princess Celestia?” Twilight’s voice was barely audible, even to herself. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

“Of course,” Celestia said. Without a word, she stepped away from the nurse, beckoning Twilight to follow.

Once they were alone, Celestia spoke up. “Why did you tell these people that Sunset was your sister?”

“I-I, uhh...” Twilight fumbled, her mind racing to find some excuse or explanation for her lie. As she looked up from the floor, she saw how Celestia was staring at her. There was genuine concern in her eyes. Before Twilight could continue her thought, Celestia spoke again.

“Were you two that close?” she asked.

“To be honest, not really. I guess we could have been, b-but she...” Her voice trailed off. A heavy sigh later, she continued. “When I first got here, there were, uhm, other people in the room with her. It had only been a short while since she...” Twilight took a deep breath. “Since she passed.”

“You just wanted to be alone with her,” Celestia said.

“Y-yeah,” Twilight said. “I wasn’t really thinking about anything else.”

“I understand, Twilight,” Celestia said. “Grief has a way of pushing aside our morals. I cannot say I am beyond this either. And while I do not condone lying, perhaps we may make use of this.”

Twilight wiped her eyes. “What do you mean?”

“They believe you are family with Sunset, correct?”

“Uhm...” Twilight blinked. “Yes, so far as I know. Why?”

“They will allow you to bring Sunset home,” Celestia said. “Home to Equestria, where she belongs.”

Twilight’s heart dropped instantly. “Princess Celestia, I... I can’t do that.”

“What?” Celestia’s expression snapped from confused to aggravated. “And why is that?”

“Because, well, when I-I talked to Sunset...” Twilight bit her lip, unsure how to phrase the hard truth she was being forced to say. “I don’t think she wanted to go back to Equestria.”

“And how do you know that?” Celestia asked.

Twilight could feel the pressure of anguish building inside her. “Sunset knew she was dying, a-and... She still didn’t want me to bring her back.”

“You spoke to her while she was—” Celestia paused, then shook her head. “Of course. Luna.”

“Y-yes, Princess Luna allowed me to connect with Sunset.” Twilight’s heartbeat pounded in her ears as anxiety crashed over her like a wave. “I-I’m sorry Princess Celestia, I know I should have told you sooner but it all happened so fast and—”

Celestia held up her hand, and Twilight immediately fell silent. “Let me be clear, Twilight. I am not upset with you for any of this. You were thrust into a horrible situation without warning, and I do not blame you for any of that. However...” The princess’ voice hardened. “You are telling me you will not bring Sunset back to her home—her real home. I want to know why.”

“I j-just told you!” Twilight stammered, frustration creeping into her voice. “She didn’t want to go back!”

Celestia stared through her as she spoke. “Why?”

“I-I... I don’t...”

Celestia crossed her arms. “I would like an answer, Twilight.”

“Because she was scared of you!” The words escaped Twilight without her meaning to, and with them went the last of her composure.

Celestia’s entire body stiffened, and her breaths grew shorter and sharper. Before she could even respond, Twilight kept shouting.

“She thought you’d never let her come back!” Yelling at Princess Celestia may have been a bad idea, but Twilight didn’t care. “She thought you hated her!”

For the first time in her life, Twilight saw Celestia at a loss for words. “I-I... I never thought...”

“You were all she had! And after she ran away, you never even bothered to look for her! You said the mirror was dangerous and left her here anyway! What kind of message does that send?” Twilight’s anger reached a fever pitch. “She hated herself s-so much, she thought you hated her so much—she probably thought you wanted her to die here!”

The second the words escaped Twilight’s lips, she immediately regretted them. Celestia, Princess Celestia, stood before her, trembling. Just as with Rainbow Dash, just as with Applejack, just as with Flash, Twilight had lost control. Immediately, desperately, she tried to undo the damage.

“I-I’m so sorry Princess, I—Sunset never told me anything like that, she n-never...” Twilight’s voice cracked as she was choked by sobs, and she shut her eyes as tight as she could. “I’m... I’m so angry, Princess. I’m s-so mad at everyone and everything a-and—and I know you really wanted the best for—”

“You are right. This is my fault.”

“W-wha—?” Twilight hiccuped, and her eyes opened. She had never seen anyone so despondent as Celestia looked in that moment.

“If Sunset was afraid return to Equestria, then it was not her home. She should not be made to rest there against her will.” The princess paused, sighing. “And the blame for that is entirely my own.”

“N-no, that’s not...” Twilight held Celestia’s hand, even as the princess looked away. “I’m sure you just wanted to give her time to—”

“No, Twilight,” Celestia said. “What I intended is irrelevant. My avoiding Sunset only planted the seeds that led to her taking her own life.” Celestia’s voice was shaking. “ I... I think I knew that from the moment you told me she was gone.”

Twilight had no idea what to say. The princess turned to her, tears in her eyes.

“Please do not feel bad for what you said, Twilight.” The faintest of smiles grazed Celestia’s lips. “To be honest, I am thankful for it. So often, those around me are too polite or too fearful to tell me the things I need to hear. I appreciate your courage in doing so.”

“It wasn’t courage... It was stupid. Stupid, impulsive irrational anger,” Twilight said, staring at the ground. “I’m so tired of being angry, Princess. I-I keep doing this—snapping and screaming at people in need of compassion... Saying horrible things, as if doing so will make the pain of losing Sunset go away.” She looked up at Celestia, tears sliding down her cheeks, and she suddenly felt like a whimpering child. “Will it ever go away...?”

“I do not know,” Celestia said. When Twilight sighed, she spoke again. “If we are to carry such a pain, though, I believe it is best that we carry it together.”

“Y-yeah,” Twilight said. Celestia wrapped an arm around her, and Twilight allowed herself to fall into the embrace.

After a few minutes of warm silence, Twilight glanced at the nurse’s station across the hall. “I, uhm... I still need to give them an answer about Sunset.”

“Yes.” Celestia nodded. “But not now. Such a decision should not be made while emotions are so high. And...” The princess trailed off, turning away from Twilight. “And truthfully, I have had enough grief for one day. I cannot handle any more.”

“... ... ...” Twilight looked at the somber, hunched woman before her. Celestia was right. There had been enough grief today.

“Princess Celestia?”

“Yes?”

“Could you, uhm... Could you tell me about Sunset?” Twilight asked. “How did you two meet?”

The princess turned, a smile of gratitude upon her face. “Of course, Twilight,” she said. “I would love to."