Rarity’s finger shook as she hit the button, sending her message through the atmosphere. Her breathing was short. The latest designs sat unnoticed on her workbench, the fifth straight day of almost no progress. And now? Now she could only chew her finger and stare at the screen. She knew the answer might not come for hours, but that did nothing to stop her.
Seeking salvation from her flopping stomach, she dragged her eyes to the window of her twelfth-story downtown office. The city of Canterlot shone brightly in the midafternoon sun, gleaming like a precious jewel. A sight that once filled her with such contentment, a confirmation of her accomplishments. Now it appeared dull and lifeless.
It wasn’t the city’s fault. She knew that. It didn’t help the hint of bitterness swimming within.
Her head snapped towards the phone in her hand as it vibrated. The familiar name took her breath away, a shadowy terror creeping up her body and holding her finger over the phone. Fighting back the paralysis, she touched the screen and read the message.
Yeah, this weekend. Pinkie says hello.
And that was it. All that worrying for six little words. That precious phrase was absent, like a warm coat forgotten at home on a frigid winter’s evening. Rarity exhaled in a long, slow heave. Her eyes burned, but she dismissed the message and started a new one. Whether she liked it or not, it was time.
Sunset Shimmer eased the teacup into the trembling hands of her guest. “Sounds like you’ve run out of time.”
“Tomorrow,” Twilight Sparkle whispered, staring into the steaming cup. “She wants to do it tomorrow. I’m n-not ready.”
Twilight got the comfy lounge chair. Sunset preferred to sit in a dining chair. It was hard and straight, which made her sit up properly and allowed her to keep her focus. She gave herself a moment to think by blowing the steam from her own cup. It wasn’t every day one of her friends came to her office unannounced, and this was a delicate matter. More delicate than anything she dealt with in her regular job. At least it was the middle of classes, so she didn’t have to worry about any Canterlot High students coming in with some sort of blown up ‘catastrophe’ only horny, not-quite-independent teenagers could concoct.
She sipped her Earl Grey and decided she might as well start off trying to lighten the mood. “You know I charge by the hour, right?”
Twilight’s brow furrowed behind her glasses. Lifting her head, she took a look around the small councilor’s office with its ‘de-motivational’ posters, certificates of achievement, a doctorate’s diploma, and a plethora of books on child psychology and self-help. At last, Twilight replied with a dry, “You’re salaried.”
“Darn.” Sunset snapped her fingers. “Opportunity lost. You win this time, Twilight Sparkle.”
She was rewarded with a smile, and it lifted her confidence a bit. But Twilight’s momentary amusement faded quickly as she cast another look at her phone lying on the desk between them. It still displayed that ominous message, the one that had apparently prompted Twilight to make this surprise visit. “I don’t know what to do.”
“I don’t blame you.” Which was the honest truth. The situation sounded like a complete mess. She’d known that Rainbow and Rarity were having problems, could see it every time she met either of them, but had chosen not to interfere unless asked. This thing about Timber Spruce and Twilight was newer. But not a surprise. “What do you want to do?”
Twilight didn’t answer for a while. She took a sip of her tea, a blatant attempt at buying time. Her eyes never left her phone, even when the steam fogged up her glasses. Sunset waited, watching the shifts in her friend’s facial expression. They were minute: a twitch of the eye, the tiniest of pouts, the silent swallowing of nothing.
“What I want is a solution where everyone goes home happy.” Twilight clenched her eyes closed and shook her head. “I d-don’t think that’s going to happen this time.”
Sunset nodded, glad in a roundabout way. “That happens sometimes. It’s good to acknowledge it. Every once in a while, a situation comes up where all we can do is try to mitigate the damage as much as possible.” Setting her cup aside, she steepled her arms and rested her chin atop her hands. “So what would be the thing you most want to avoid?”
Twilight barked a feeble laugh. “Where to start? I don’t want Rainbow to hate me. I want Timber to be happy again. I want whatever this is between me and Rarity to not be a stupid fling that destroys both our lives. I don’t want our careers to be at stake because of this. I…” She licked her lips, gaze turning watery. Putting her own cup down, she removed her glasses to rub at her eyes. “I want Corona to have a stable life, with stable parents who love her. And I do. I love her so much. If I d-do this, if I give in, what’s going to happen to her?”
“She’ll always have you.”
“But she needs a father!” For a biting instant, Twilight’s face turned into a scowl of frustration, made all the stronger by the tears finally breaking free. Yet it went as quickly as it came. She hunched back in her chair as if it were a refuge, her arms crossed and fingers clutching her shirt sleeves. She gazed at something beyond the real world as she asked, “That’s right, isn’t it? K-kids need both parents. They need things to be stable.”
“Stable, yes. That’s the key word.” Sunset sighed, knowing what she was about to say may not be the right thing. “Stability is important for a child her age, and having a proper male figure in her life is helpful. But that doesn’t mean she absolutely must be raised by a mother and a father. I can cite from memory dozens of examples where someone grew up without a father, without a mother, or two of one, or neither, and came out just fine. But how you proceed from here is important.”
“I have to do this the right way,” Twilight muttered, seemingly to herself. “What if there’s nothing between Rarity and me? What if it’s just some stupid feeling, a product of our mutual desperation, and it goes away after a week or two? What will I have put my daughter through if that happens? I don’t want to… t-to…”
Sunset closed her eyes to spare herself the sight of her friend’s breakdown. It had always been harder to help those she was close to, and these sobs hurt more than most. She stood up, walked around the desk, knelt before the lounge chair, and pulled Twilight into a gentle hug. Twilight caught hold of her as if she were a lifeguard at sea, body quaking with her hiccups.
Holding the woman’s head to her shoulder, Sunset whispered, “Then you’ll do what you have to. It’s okay if this doesn’t work, Twilight.”
“No, it’s not,” Twilight whined between sniffs. “It’s not okay at all. I’m so confused and scared and… and…”
“That’s okay too.” Sunset kept her words soothing, stroking Twilight’s back as she did. “You’re going to be the best mother you can be for Corona, no matter what happens. I know that, Twilight, and so do you.”
“B-but Timber. W-without him, she might—”
“Have you told him about any of this?” Twilight didn’t answer, but Sunset could feel her shaking her head against her shoulder. “Have you tried?”
Twilight pulled back sharply, frustration once again marring her pretty features. Her neat bun wasn’t so neat anymore, strands of hair hanging loose. “Of course I have, but he won’t listen! It’s like I’m talking to a wall.”
Holding her at arm’s length, Sunset asked her next question very carefully. “And while talking to this wall, did you ever tell him about this? I mean this, specifically: you leaving him, you trying things with Rarity, you taking Corona away?”
The anger faded once more. Twilight’s mouth opened and closed a few times and the fear made a stark return across her features. It was enough for Sunset to know the answer. “Let him know, Twilight. Before you commit, put your cards on the table. Give him one final chance once he knows the stakes.”
“B-but what if he—?”
“What if he what? Doesn’t change? Then your course is set. If he doesn’t move after that, maybe it’s time to accept that he’s not going to. And if he’s not going to, is it really beneficial for Corona to be in that environment? A father who doesn’t care and a mother who is growing increasingly bitter? That’s not ‘stable’.”
Twilight met her stare, lost and uncertain. Gradually, she closed her mouth and took a long, deep breath. “Are you sure that’s the best course?”
Standing up once more, Sunset smiled for her. “What do you think? At the end of the day, this isn’t about me. This is about what’s best for you and Corona.”
Twilight settled back in her seat, twirling a lock of her hair between two fingers as she thought. “It just… It feels so selfish. Isn’t it selfish?” She rubbed tears from her face with an arm. “I think it’s selfish.”
At that, Sunset’s smile grew warm. She went back to her seat and relaxed, folding her hands atop her desk. “Take it from somepony who knows, Twilight: it’s not always wrong to be selfish.”
Timber Spruce was on the back porch. Again.
He was strumming his guitar with its missing string. Again.
He looked like he hadn’t bathed in the last twenty-four hours. Again.
Twilight Sparkle watched him through the living room window, trying and unable to recognize the notes that never seemed to make a proper tune. Again.
“Mommy?”
Twilight turned to see her daughter sitting on the floor. Her skin was not unlike her father’s, a dark tan, but her two-toned hair as more akin to her doting Granma Velvet’s. She had her crayons out, and a large notebook she liked to draw in, but now she only looked to her mother. Twilight smiled for the six-year-old as she approached, crouching so that she could be more on her daughter’s level. “Yes, Corona?”
Corona’s green eyes met hers, hopeful and filled with a clear, quiet apprehension. “Can I go with you tonight?”
A needle lodged itself into Twilight’s heart, but her smile stayed on through sheer willpower. “Why do you want to go with me?”
“Because Dad’s boring,” the child admitted, averting her eyes and hunching her shoulders. “And… sometimes he forgets dinner.”
A deep breath. Another. Twilight tried hard not to imagine her child—their child—going a night without a proper meal. “Don’t worry, honey. Aunt Sunny said she’d take care of you tonight while I’m gone.” She was so glad she’d already cleared that with Sunset yesterday. “Doesn’t that sound nice?”
The brilliant smile was all Twilight needed to see, but the added gasp didn’t hurt. “Do you think she’ll tell me stories about ponies again?”
“Maybe. If you ask really nice and be a good girl.” Twilight poked her daughter’s nose with a grin. “And I know you’ll be a good girl, won’t you?”
“Mm-hmm!” Corona promptly turned her attention to her notebook, flipping to a new page. “I’m gonna draw ponies and tell Aunt Sunny a story too. It’ll be great!”
“I’m sure it will be.” Satisfied the danger was over, Twilight stood up and turned for the door. “Mommy’s gonna talk to Dad for a little bit. You stay inside, okay?”
The answered “Okay” was subdued. It was enough to make her pause, but she didn’t dare look back. Was Corona aware? She had to know something, even if not the details. Should she say anything?
No. Not yet. Not until Twilight knew for sure what was going to happen. And she wouldn’t know that until tonight. With one more calming breath, she started yet again for the door. Stepping outside, she found it was a bright, lovely day. Birds in the trees, only a few clouds that did nothing to block the sunshine, and a nice, cool temperature. All that in their quaint suburban home, modest considering how much she earned, and yet comfortable and inviting. There was Timber, hardly seeming to recognize any of it.
She walked to his side, wondering just how she was going to do this. Standing there, facing him, her hands clenching and unclenching. How was this supposed to start? Like all the other times?
Timber didn’t even acknowledge her presence. He just kept strumming, paying no attention at all to how out of tune his guitar was. Twilight felt something hot growing within, something that made her teeth grind. She was his wife. His wife, and he couldn’t even be bothered to glance. Here she was, plainly trying to get his attention by mere presence, and yet it was like she was invisible.
Twilight Sparkle was tired of feeling invisible. “Timber, we need to talk.”
He let out a quiet hum, barely audible over his strumming. Nothing else, just a hum.
The heat grew. If he found her so uninteresting, maybe Sunset was right. “If you’re not going to talk to me, fine. But I need you to know that this is your last chance.” She waited a few seconds. Nothing but strumming. With a huff, she pressed on. “I’m not doing this anymore. I’m not going to let you drag me and our daughter down. I need you to make a decision. Now.”
At last, a reaction: Timber’s head shifted ever so slightly her way. His eyes didn’t turn towards her, but she knew he had at least heard her and was thinking. His face showed no emotion, however, save for a subtle melancholy. For a fraction of a second, Twilight thought there might be hope.
Then he went back to strumming.
“Timber…” She closed her eyes and let the anger wash away. It would do her no good, that she’d already learned. “If you don’t love me anymore, I’ll… I’ll understand. I’d be willing to take it. But what about Corona, Timber? Our daughter. Won’t you show her something, even just a hint of love?”
Another turn of the head, another thoughtful pause, but the non-music went on. Timber licked his lips, and Twilight realized with no small shock that, for once, he intended to speak. His voice was subdued, low. All but emotionless, and what little emotion it did offer was difficult to place. “If you left, would you take her?”
A ball of ice lodged in her chest, forcing air out of her lungs. Twilight swayed in place, lightheaded and not sure what to grasp for to maintain her balance. “W-would you stop me if I did?”
The non-music ceased. All was quiet. It felt to Twilight as though the world had put an end to everything just to listen for his response. Timber’s eyes almost met hers but lowered at the last instant. For the first time in a long time, his expression held more than a placid melancholy, yet it was by no means a change for the better. It now held a distinct defeat, like he at last understood the depths to which he had fallen. “Maybe… Maybe that’s for the best.”
It was like being slapped in the face. This time Twilight really did reach out, using the house wall to support herself. “Y-you mean, you want us to go?”
The words emerged from his lips with an almost painful slowness, as if he had to taste each one before loosing it upon her feeble form. “I don’t… want… anything. Honestly. If you’re here. If you’re not here. If you took Corona, I… I feel something. Just something. I don’t know what it is, so it’s ‘something’.” He trailed off, staring into space with his hands absently stroking his guitar.
Twilight clutched her chest and fought against the voice in her head, that angry voice telling her to walk away and be done with it. She couldn’t, not until she tried it one last time. “If you would just get help, maybe we could fix this. Don’t you want to feel happy again?”
Nothing. Not a whisper, not a hum, not even a glance. Timber Spruce, that cute boy she once loved so dearly, ignored her quiet plea. She might as well have said nothing at all. Twilight closed her eyes and tried to remember that time, not so long ago, when he would hang onto her every word as if her voice were a magic unto itself. She remembered fascinated, adoring eyes. She remembered love songs around campfires, sweet kisses before work, gleeful hugs upon coming home, and nights filled with comfort and warmth.
She opened her eyes and saw stillness. Blandness. Disinterest, laziness, the heavy hand of a depression that knew no end. At last, she faced the bitter reality; the door had been closed, possibly for good. Sunset was right, sometimes a happy ending for everyone just couldn’t happen.
The story wasn’t over yet. Though the words tasted like ash, she choked them out. “I’m going. I’m t-taking Corona.” Twilight stepped back, watching him, silently begging him to react. He didn’t, and tears began to blur her vision. “If you decide you want to see someone, I’ll… I’ll help you. I know people you can talk to.”
Another step. Timber went back to his rhythmless strumming.
“If you want to visit Corona, that’s fine. Once I know where we’ll be staying?” She was at the door now, her hand on the knob. She watched him, breathless, begging for some reaction. There was none. “Won’t you at least say goodbye to her? Say something? Please?”
Seconds passed, marred only by the casual noise of his instrument. Twilight heaved a long, long sigh and opened the door. “Goodbye, Timber. I’m sorry I couldn’t give you what you needed.” He didn’t answer, and she at last closed the door. Pressing her back to it, she clenched her eyes shut and fought down a sob. Corona was right there, she knew. She had to hold it in, no matter how much the young girl buried within wanted to lash out and scream and weep. Deep breaths. Shaking hand out, shaking hand in. And again. And again.
Her vision was still blurry when her eyes finally opened. Her thoughts drifted away from her estranged husband and to two women she was to meet tonight. This part had been hard. The next part might be harder. Could she do it? She had no idea, and that threatened to bring the shakes back. But she sucked in one last, sharp inhale and squared her shoulders.
“Okay.”
Leaning against her kitchen table with a mug of hot tea in one hand, Sunset watched her guest wear a circle into the floor. “Y’know, I’m starting to think I really should charge for this kind of thing.”
Rarity’s pacing didn’t even slow down. She took her finger, dimpled through constant teeth-related abuse, out of her mouth. “I’m so dreadfully sorry, Sunset, but I couldn’t think of anyone else to talk to.”
“Yeah, I get it. And it’s alright.” Sunset cast a glance at her oven clock. “But just so you’re aware, Twilight will be here in about an hour.”
That got the pacing to stop. Rarity looked at her in much the same way a cow looks at an oncoming train. “T-Twilight? Coming here? Why?”
Sunset grimaced. “Apparently Timber Spruce isn’t mentally capable of taking care of Corona right now.”
“That poor man.” Rarity fiddled with her dress shirt, which was of course as impeccable as her business skirt and heels. She looked like she’d just come in from the office. On a Saturday. Which, knowing her, she probably did; work was one of her ways to de-stress, though its effectiveness this time was questionable. “It’s hard to believe the loss of the camp had such a profound effect on him. And here I thought his sister was supposed to be the obsessive one.”
“Says the dam pacing around my kitchen.”
Rarity clenched her fists and shook them, closing her eyes and she groaned. “Oh, don’t remind me! I just don’t know what to do, and it’s made all the worse knowing this is all my fault.”
“Excuse me? Your fault?” Setting her mug aside, Sunset stood up properly and approached. “How is any of this your fault?”
“How could it not be my fault?” Rarity threw her hands high and returned to her pacing. “I’m the one who wrote that ad in the paper for Twilight to answer. I’m the one who came on to her. Why, I practically took advantage of the poor girl! She was hurting and looking for someone to help and my response was to flirt with her? Oh, Sunset, what is wrong with me?”
Sunset wasn’t so sure she wanted to get in the woman’s way just yet. Rarity was on a roll, and sometimes it was better to let the steam out before trying to interfere. “You’ve had over a month to back out on this, and so did Twilight. She could have said ‘no’ at any time.”
“Could she, Sunset?” Spinning around, Rarity flung her hands to the sides. “I’m not so sure about that. She’s desperate, I gave her an opening, but maybe it was more like a pit, and now she’s falling with no means of arresting the motion!” She cringed and rubbed her forehead with a delicate, pearlescent finger. “I could really go for some ice cream right now.”
“Well, if you want, I’ve got a tub of—”
In a flash, Rarity turned her face away and thrust a palm at her friend, ending up in a high-nosed pose of denial. “Tempt me not, foul pony creature! I must be at my best tonight and you’re—” An eye popped open to look sideways at Sunset. “Chocolate fudge, perhaps?”
Two minutes later, the women were sitting opposite one another at the dining table, a tub of Chocolate Chip Mint ice cream between them. They forewent bowls, taking turns dipping into the container directly with their individual spoons. “Not chocolate fudge,” Sunset admitted with a grin.
“But it’ll do, thank you.” Rarity slipped an overfilled spoon between her lips. With her cheek resting in her palm, she asked, “What am I going to do, Sunset? If Twilight and I go through with this, then Rainbow will be…” Her eyes lowered to the table. “I’m a terrible friend. And a terrible wife.”
“You’re not a terrible friend or wife, Rarity. You’re just…” Sunset waived her spoon in the air as she sought the right word. “Human.”
Her companion huffed and dunked her spoon into the ice cream once more. “I would make a statement about comparing humans to ponies, but I think I’ve done enough damage to my friendships right now.”
Sunset would have laughed had her friend not looked so dejected. Sucking on her ice cream gave her time to think on the situation. How could she possibly help in this scenario? It was times like these she almost regretted being perpetually single, for she had no personal experience to speak of. She considered, very briefly, using her empathic abilities to get a better feel for Rarity’s thoughts, but shoved that urge down. Rarity hadn’t offered, and she’d sworn off using her powers for this kind of thing on her friends otherwise.
So that just left her years of psychology classes and work experience. Once again, she lamented that all that experience involved teenagers. This was a far more ‘adult’ problem than she was accustomed to. Still, she had to offer Rarity something. She could be a shoulder to cry on, but she would rather help if at all possible.
Ignoring the chance that it wasn’t, she sucked down another mouthful of ice cream before speaking again. “Rarity, do you honestly believe that separating from Rainbow is the best thing for both of you?”
To her surprise, the answer came instantly. “Yes.” The confidence of Rarity’s response disappeared in an instant. “But I don’t want to hurt her if I can help it. I don’t want to hurt Twilight, either. I m-mean, what if I’m just bad at this? What if Twilight and I get together only for us to realize it won’t work? I don’t want to put Twilight through another bad relationship. And Rainbow?” Cringing, Rarity tucked another scoop in her mouth to stifle her sniffling moan. “Thish ish gunna break her shweesh, loyal hearsh!” Swallow. “She’s going to hate me after this, I just know it.”
Sunset reached over to grasp Rarity’s arm, not surprised when Rarity grasped hers back. “It’s going to hurt, you’re right about that. But you know it’s only going to hurt worse if you hold out on this. Especially now that Twilight’s committed to the task.”
“I know,” Rarity whispered, ice cream forgotten as she met Sunset’s gaze. “I know, but that doesn’t make it any easier. How do I do it, Sunset? How do I intentionally hurt one of my best friends like this?”
“By remembering that you’re doing it for her own good,” Sunset replied evenly. “By knowing that neither of you will ever be happy for as long as this continues.”
Rarity thought. Rarity chewed her lip. Rarity reached as if to get another scoop, but hesitated. “And… And if she hates me for it?”
Only willpower and a few years of practice prevented Sunset from flinching at the suggestion. She knew as well as anyone how Rainbow could be when confronted with things she didn’t like. But at the same time… “Rainbow is our friend, and the most loyal person I know. She’ll take it hard at first, there’s no denying that, but over time I think she’ll come to understand your reasons.”
The spoon tapped on the edge of the tub a few times. Rarity stared at it, her slender fingers squeezing Sunset’s arm as if the very motion might provide some comfort. “I hope so,” she whispered. “B-but if I have to lose her as a friend as well to make her happy, then…”
“It won’t come to that.” Sunset gave a reassuring squeeze of her own. “I promise. Even if it takes a few years, we’ll get past this.”
“Right.” Rarity licked her lips. Dropped her spoon in the ice cream. “Right.” She slowly released Sunset’s arm and stood. “I should go. I don’t want Twilight to see me like this, and I want to be at the condo when either she or Rainbow gets there.” With one more slow breath, she met Sunset’s gaze. “Thank you. I’m sorry to dump all this on you so suddenly only to leave right after, but I really needed to vent.”
Sunset chuckled as she stood, walked around the small table, and gave the trembling woman a tight hug. “What are friends for?”
Rainbow Dash stared at the door to her condo. The travel bag over her shoulder only had her clothes yet felt like it held steel dumbbells. Her shoulders slumped. Her head remained high, but only through sheer willpower. Willpower that was, she hated to admit, not all that strong right now, hence the reason her head was only half-raised.
Rarity was in there. She said she had “an important matter” to discuss. Rainbow was used to “we need to talk” and “something has come up,” but “an important matter” was new. She couldn’t get a reading on it. There were so many possibilities, good and bad. But even if the message had come to her by text, Rainbow’s gut told her this wasn’t a good talk coming.
If she left right this minute, nobody would know she’d almost come home. She could say the coach called and needed her for something. One of her teammates got injured or… No, in a fight! Yeah, a bar fight, that happened all the time, right? And then she’d hop on a plane and… and…
With a long sigh, Rainbow reached for the doorknob. “It won’t be that bad,” she muttered. “Y’gotta learn to stop panicking over little things, RD.” The suggestion did little to ease the needles running up and down her spine, but it was enough to get her to open the door. She forced her shoulders straight and a smile to her lips. If the Rainbow Dash was coming home to her wife for the first time in weeks, she was going to be cool about it. “Hey, Rares! I’m—”
The woman sitting in one of their living room chairs was not Rainbow’s wife. Twilight’s Sparkle’s head shot up, her eyes wide like an owl’s. Her mouth opened as if to cry out, but she choked it back just as quickly. Literally; she started coughing and hacking like she’d swallowed something awful, nearly dropping the glass in her hands in the process. Rainbow reacted in an instant, letting her bag fall to the floor and rushing to slap her friend’s back. This was enough to make Twilight hack up whatever she’d swallowed and suck in a long gasp. “You okay, Twi?”
A couple breaths later, Twilight sat up and gave her an anxious smile. “Y-yeah, sorry. You startled me, is all.”
“No biggie.” Rainbow looked around the room. It featured a light, creamy white paint. An entire wall was devoted to her many trophies, as well as newspaper clipping of various games and sporting events she’d participated in. The opposite wall was similar, but decidedly more highbrow with its decorative style, featuring expensive art displays, one plinth with a large ruby, and clippings of Rarity’s own accolades. Whatever differences the two had, this room was a reminder that they each had quite the ego.
Her shoes quiet on the plush carpet, Rainbow turned back to Twilight. She’d anticipated a hug or something similar, especially considering how little they saw one another. Twilight didn’t even stand. That alone had alarm bells going off in Rainbow’s head, but she kept her cool. While Twilight drank from her tall glass of water, she went to get her dropped bag and slung it over her shoulder yet again. With her back still turned to hide her uncertainty, she asked, “So what brings you here? Just visiting?”
“I… Well, if you must know…”
Rainbow turned to glance at the woman. Only now did she realize that Twilight was… dressed up. Nothing fancy, certainly not like Rarity could get, but definitely nicer than Rainbow on a regular day. Fitted skirt with an angled bottom, half going below the knees and the other above, and a purple, collared shirt beneath a nice cardigan. Makeup and earrings, but no high heels. So… maybe Rarity on a regular day. Except the hair; Rarity never wore hers in a bun. Except once, for experimentation’s sake. She hadn’t liked it.
Rainbow couldn’t tell if this had anything to do with Rarity’s “important matter”. Had Twilight stopped by for a surprise visit, ruining Rarity’s plans? No, that couldn’t be. Why dress up? This was related. Somehow. But if it involved Twilight, it couldn’t be that bad. Maybe she’d misread Rarity’s mood in that text. Yeah, that had to be it.
Smiling in relief, Rainbow asked, “Are we going out or something?”
The anxiety fled Twilight’s face, replaced by a confounded stare. “Out?”
“Yeah, out.” Rainbow shrugged and gestured to Twilight’s clothes. “You look like you’re going out. We having dinner somewhere? And where’s Rarity?”
“I’m here.” Rarity chose that moment to glide in through the doorway to the kitchen, a glass of water in each hand. Gliding was the right word; Rarity never ‘walked’ anywhere, she had too much grace for that. It was one of those things that used to fascinate Rainbow. She’d never quite figured out how she did it. “Good evening, Rainbow. I didn’t expect you in for another half-hour at least.”
The mystery deepened. Rarity wasn’t dressed up. Actually, Rarity was always dressed up, but a few years with her wife taught Rainbow that Rarity dressed up in different ways for different occasions. This Rarity, with her simple business skirt and yellow blouse, was in her casual mode. So no, no going out. Which was a relief, as the last thing Rainbow wanted to do after a six-hour flight was to go to one of Rarity’s fancy restaurants where you had to order five entrees to get a proper meal. But she still didn’t know what was really going on, and it was starting to bug her.
Test time. Rainbow tossed her bag aside, letting it land haphazardly on their couch, and stretched before flopping backwards onto the part her bag hadn’t covered. The entire act was designed to be sloppy, right down to propping one leg on the armrest so that she was spread wide in what Rarity would most certainly consider ‘unladylike’.
Her wife didn’t so much as flinch. Rarity set a glass on the end table by Rainbow’s leg and then settled into the chair beside Twilight’s as if nothing were off. And Rainbow, knowing she looked like an oaf and really needed a shower, was suddenly at red alert. There was something wrong with this scene. Twilight dressed up and looking like she’d just been caught with her hand in a cookie jar. Rarity stoic, not even trying to engage in small talk.
Something was going on, and they were both in on it. Rainbow wasn’t comfortable with them leaving her in the dark. Should she say something? Ask? What would be too forward, or not forward enough? Talking to Rarity alone could be like navigating a minefield. To deal with both of them at once? It could be the stuff of nightmares.
But at least she felt confident that she herself wasn’t the source of the problem. She sat up, took a sip of the water… no, chugged the water. She was thirstier than she’d thought. Deep breath. “Okay, guys, what’s going on?”
Twilight’s head bowed and she let out something between a squeak and a groan. “I… I m-mean…” A delicate, perfect hand grasped Twilight’s shoulder, prompting her to fall silent. Twilight gripped her hands together between her knees and couldn’t meet Rainbow’s eye.
Rarity did, instead. Her voice was firm, the kind of firm she used when trying to keep control of her own emotions. “Rainbow, Twilight left Timber Spruce today.”
Whatever presuppositions Rainbow had about this night flew out the window. She sat up straight and felt the air leave her. She took in Twilight’s meek, guilty posture and felt everything snap in place, but the image formed left her hollow. “Oh. Oh, Twilight, I… Geez, that sucks. I’m so sorry.” She’d known Timber was a wreck ever since he lost the camp, but she’d never expected it to go this far.
When Twilight only stared at her knees, Rarity gently spoke. “This was a long time coming, but it’s done now. You mustn’t blame yourself.”
Rainbow wasn’t sure what to do with herself. Her friend was hurting, and she’d like to go and give Twilight a hug, but there was something about seeing her and Rarity that left her on edge. It seemed like she’d be intruding if she tried. It didn’t feel right, but she didn’t want to make a mistake. Not now, not with something this important. So instead she distracted herself with another thought, something equally important. “And Corona?”
That finally prompted Twilight to speak, though she was so very quiet about it. “She’s with Sunset tonight. I… I asked in advance.” She squeezed her hands together as if she might wring some sort of sense out thin air. “I don’t know how I’m going to tell her.”
“It’ll be okay, darling,” Rarity gave her shoulder a squeeze. “We’ll deal with it. One thing at a time, alright?”
Rainbow felt left out. She wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing or not. “Yeah. We’re here for you, Twi. Whatever you need. We’ve got your back.” She looked to Rarity. “I can start cleaning the guest room for her.”
Rarity’s eyes flitted to her, like a moth uncertain of where to land. The firmness slipped as she began to speak, only to cut herself off. Now it was Twilight who came to the rescue, reaching up to squeeze the hand on her shoulder. The two women shared a look that mystified Rainbow. She knew something was being said between them. This whole being excluded thing was moving from bugging to outright annoying, but she said nothing; this night was about Twilight, not her stupid feelings.
At last, Rarity found her voice. “Actually, I’m going to bring Twilight to my penthouse suite downtown.”
Rarity had a penthouse suite? Who was Rainbow kidding, of course she did. They made so much money between them that having an extra home close to work was not a big deal. Rarity was the budgeter of the two of them, she was way more responsible with money. “Okay, that’s cool. I can help.”
“No, Rainbow. Just Twilight and myself.”
The way Rarity said that gave her pause. It was like… like she was afraid of Rainbow’s reaction. But why? Frowning, Rainbow leaned forward, elbows on her knees, and studied her wife’s posture. Fidgety, like a rookie when the team was on the verge of losing. “I want to help. You can’t ask me to leave Twi hanging.” Rarity sat tall, but Rainbow had been around her long enough to see that the display of confidence was an act. It was in the way she held the armrest with one hand, her perfectly manicured nails digging into the soft cushioning.
Twilight must have noticed as well. She turned to her with something between misery and concern. “Rarity, you don’t have to—”
“No.” Rarity probably meant it to sound firm, but the strain in her voice was as blatant as nails on a chalkboard. “You were very brave today. I must be brave as well.”
The alarm bells were back, louder than ever. What did Rarity have to be brave about? It was Twilight who broke up with Timber, it was Twilight who was hurting right now. It wasn’t like Rarity was… Rainbow felt her blood chill. She almost jumped to her feet but managed to hold back. It wasn’t what she was thinking. It wasn’t that terrible idea that sometimes kept her up at night. She just needed to breathe, to let Rarity say whatever she intended to say. Then they could take care of Twilight and—
“It’s over, Rainbow. I’m going to live with Twilight for a while.”
The words came without fanfare or anything resembling a climax. They escaped Rarity like air from a balloon, fast and sharp and leaving the woman deflated. They washed over Rainbow, a tsunami, and her defenses nearly crumbled on impact. No. No, she misunderstood. Rarity didn’t phrase it correctly. She didn’t mean…
But Rainbow could see it. The way Rarity shrank into her chair. The tears threatening to escape. How, when Twilight reached out to her, she seized the comforting hand in a death grip. Her eyes wouldn’t meet Rainbow’s. Why wouldn’t they meet hers? She wanted to see her eyes, for them to tell her it wasn’t true, that it was some stupid prank. Rarity would never make a prank like this, but… but…
“J-just like that?” Rainbow’s throat was so tight it could barely get the words out. She felt so… thin. “Rares, I… We… You can’t just…”
“Don’t act like it’s sudden,” Rarity muttered, still unable to look her in the eyes. “You know as well as I that this has been a long time coming.”
A long time coming. Like Timber and Twilight. And it was true. Rainbow mind went involuntarily to all the days long past when just seeing that beautiful white face beneath those perfect purple curls could light her heart on fire. When was the last time Rarity’s blue eyes had looked at her with anything resembling longing? Or that Rainbow had been excited to come home? Yes, this had been a long time coming.
Fear surged through Rainbow like a train, bringing her to her feet with a jerk. “Wait, hold on! It’s not over. It’s not! I… I’ve been trying, Rarity. You know I have! I just… We just need to find it again, y’know? What we had before. It’s still there, it’s gotta be.” Twilight cringed as if she were being attacked but didn’t move away from Rarity. Why was she acting so guilty? This wasn’t even about her anymore!
“It’s all hollow, Rainbow.” Rarity bowed her head, sinking low and appearing exhausted. “We can’t keep pretending anymore. I can’t. Neither of us are happy, and I want us to be happy.”
“By leaving me?” Crossing her arms with a scowl, Rainbow huffed. “Because that’ll make us both perfectly happy, let me tell you.”
“I know it hurts, Rainbow. Believe me, I do, but—”
“No!” Rainbow stomped and flung her arms, having no better means to convey her frustration. Rarity and Twilight both watched her as if in weary expectation, like she was reacting exactly how they expected, and it only made her want to scream! “No, no, no, stop looking at me like that! It doesn’t end this way, okay? We were perfect, Rarity. Perfect! Don’t you remember?” She held out her hands to her wife, the same way she used to when she needed help and understanding. “Perfect. The world was at our fingertips. We could do anything as long as we were together. You and me, Rares, a team. The best team! So we’ve hit a dry spell. It… it happens. Doesn’t it?”
“A dry spell.” Rarity’s grip on Twilight eased, but she didn’t let go of her hand. That exhausted look remained firmly rooted. “Is that what you call it? Is that what it means when a couple can go for months without so much as sending one another a text? When was the last time we said those words, Rainbow?”
Rainbow’s arms fell as she stared at the woman she’d been married to for six years. The words slipped through her lips. “I love you.” They were dry. Hollow. Tasteless. She hated the way they sounded, so why hadn’t she said it properly? She knew how to say it properly.
Rarity’s rote response was equally unimpressive: “Of course you do, I’m fabulous.” She shuddered, as if saying them were a source of agony, then whispered, “I love you.”
“Of course you do.” A game. A joke. Something that used to make them both smile. “I’m awesome.” Rainbow couldn’t remember the last time she’d said them, much less with meaning. Her eyes burned, and she made no effort to fight it. “I don’t feel awesome.”
Rarity stood. With grace, as always. That used to mean so much to Rainbow. And with that same flawless elegance, she put her arms around Rainbow’s shoulders. “I’m sorry, Rainbow Dash. I don’t believe there is any way to fix this.”
Rainbow told herself she should return the hug. That maybe if she held Rarity tight, this would all end up a bad dream. Yet her arms remained stiff at her sides. Stupid arms, as if they knew better than she did. She fought back the urge to sob. “I made a p-promise. A solemn vow. You and me, together. Please. L-let me keep my vow.”
“This isn’t your fault, Rainbow.”
Something about that phrase brought the heat back, and Rainbow’s next words cracked like a whip. “Well, whose is it, then?” She pulled back from Rarity with a growl and rubbed at her eyes. “Yours? I sure as heck don’t think it’s Twilight’s!”
Twilight’s little squeak of alarm reminded Rainbow that they had a visitor. She turned to the woman, also recalling what Twilight was going through, and suddenly didn’t know what the most important thing was to deal with. Her friend was staring at them as if Rainbow had pulled out a gun or something. “Woah, Twi, calm down! This isn’t, I m-mean, I wasn’t blaming you. I know you’re kind of in the middle of something and me and Rarity are sorta stealing the show, I guess, but, uh…”
Rainbow had no idea where she was going with that. She clenched her hands and groaned. She had tears running down her cheeks, Twilight looked like she’d been caught stealing magic again, and Rarity was watching her with a worn, expectant manner. Her old shoulder wound began to act up, as it always did when she was stressed, and she started rubbing it. “This has gotta be the most uncool situation I’ve ever been in.”
“Understatement of the decade, darling.” Rarity wasn’t able to say it with her usual gusto. A floundering, desperate effort to lighten the mood, perhaps.
“Okay, fine.” Rainbow turned to her wife with a glare. “I’ll admit it, things aren’t the same between you and me. It… It stinks. But dang it, I made a promise! I didn’t walk to that altar and say those vows and dress up to the nines just to back out when things get tough. I said I was yours Rarity, and I meant it!”
The pose Rarity struck was a classic: a hand on her cocked hip, eyes narrowed, brow furrowed, legs spread slightly and lips in a thin line. It was her ‘lecturing’ look, which Rainbow was intimately familiar with, though the moisture behind the eyes was uncommon. “Is that it? You want to be with me because you don’t want to break a promise? Not because you love me, or because I’m worth it, or because I’m still the greatest part of your life? It’s the promise that makes you fight this losing battle.”
Oh, how Rainbow longed to deny it. She knew she’d messed up, was intimately aware of exactly how she’d done so. Her mind floundered for an answer that wouldn’t make things worse, but every argument that slipped through her thoughts rang of falseness.
Once upon a time, Rainbow was overjoyed to come home to her wife or vice versa. They would cuddle on the couch and tell one another about their trips, stealing flighty kisses along the way. It had been the highlight of Rainbow’s life, and she’d call just for the delightful sound of Rarity’s prim, perfect voice. Now her phone remained silent, the couch cold. She’d come home and be relieved that her wife wasn’t home, because that meant the awkwardness between them could be avoided for another day. Come to think of it, perhaps Rarity had bought that penthouse for the same reason.
Once upon a time, Rainbow would have given up anything to spend a few extra minutes with her wife. She’d leave practice early, arrive late. She’d once skipped a game unannounced just so that she could surprise Rarity with a candle-lit night together. She’d almost been traded for that little stunt, but it had been so worth it! Now it felt like every little act she did for Rarity was no more than a chore. An unwelcome obligation, a performance put on for the sake of an image that got old ages ago.
Once upon a time, Rainbow loved Rarity and everything about her. And now, staring into those blue eyes that were begging her for some kind of answer, she was forced to face facts. Facts she’d been running away from for over a year now.
One final gamble, then: before Rarity could protest, Rainbow took her in her arms and kissed her. Her lips worked, her hands roamed, her heart thudded. But her heart wasn’t reacting to any sort of passion, only a dreaded ache, a desperation eating at Rainbow’s soul. Rarity wasn’t reacting. Why wasn’t Rarity kissing back? Why wasn’t she holding her like she used to? Where was the passion?
Rainbow knew, even as she massaged those lips with her own. There was no passion. Rarity couldn’t react properly because Rainbow herself was only faking it. The awareness settled, heavy and cold and hard in her chest. All she wanted now was to get away from this feeling, this terrible worthlessness. At last, she stopped. She rested her forehead on Rarity’s shoulder and shook, not bothering to fight the tears.
Rarity stepped back, easily escaping the frail hold. “I’m sorry, Rainbow.” At least she sounded honest. More honest than Rainbow.
Without looking up, Rainbow muttered, “Isn’t there anything I can do? Please. Please, Rarity.”
“I’m not going to live a lie.” Rarity’s words held all the compassion of truth and all the sorrow of defeat. “And neither should you. I… I hope you’ll understand someday. I hope this will lead to a happier time for both of us.”
Rainbow didn’t say anything. What was she supposed to say? She was a failure. There was no happy ending, no brighter tomorrows. If she remained here, she might do something she shouldn’t, might fight it even more. Upset as she was, she still didn’t want to hurt Rarity, at least not any more than she already had by being her stupid, worthless self. She had to get away.
So she did, stumbling out of the living room and down the hallway. She nearly opened the bedroom door, but paused. Visions of lying beneath the familiar sheets with Rarity in her arms flooded her thrashing mind. She stumbled back, bumped into the wall. The world was spinning. Why as the world spinning? It took her stomach with it. Rainbow went for the guest bedroom, had to reach a few times before finding the doorknob. Her hand covered her mouth to prevent… something from coming out of it. It came away wet with tears.
She didn’t make it to the trash can. Now she had vomit on the carpet. And her shoes. Rainbow went for the trash can anyway, landed on her knees before it, spat out the foul taste. She kept gagging, entire body trembling with the spasms, forehead pressed against the wall. Sobs joined the occasional cough or choke. Her vows kept circling around her skull, a foul chant followed up by the grotesque awareness that she was a failure of a wife. A failure. A total, complete failure.
“F-forever,” she moaned. “We were supposed to love one another. Forever!” She punched the wall. Even that was a feeble motion. “That’s what I said. That’s what I promised.” What changed? Why? How? Surely, if she’d done things differently this could have been prevented. But what things? Maybe she was too stupid. Maybe she should have suggested something. Maybe if she’d been home more, or… or… or what? Where was the magic that could solve this problem?
Slowly, Rainbow straightened herself out again. Whatever the answer was, it was too late. Far, far too late. Wiping her mouth, she stood on wobbly legs and turned around. The guest room, that’s right. She’d run in here. Her eyes lowered to the mess she’d made on the floor. Rarity would kill her if she saw that. Wouldn’t she? Rarity… Rarity… “Rarity.”
Maybe it wasn’t too late. Maybe, if she hurried, they could talk some more, find something to fix this. They had Twilight, that egghead could solve anything! Except her own marriage… but it was worth a try, wasn’t it? Filled with a renewed fire, Rainbow burst out of the room and ran to find—
—an empty living room.
“Twilight? R-Rarity?”
Nobody returned her call. She went to the kitchen. Empty, save for three glasses washed and left in the drainer. Rainbow stared at those glasses, for they told her all she needed. They were gone. Rarity was gone. Only Rarity would think to clean up after herself even in times of duress like this. She was gone. Somehow, seeing those neat and tidy glasses made the fact strike home harder than ever.
She was gone.
The ride to the penthouse had been quiet, broken only by the stifled sniffles of the two women. Rarity had led Twilight to the elevator in silence. Now she sat on a chair on her balcony, staring at the city below. She held a glass of Champagne but had only taken a couple sips. A chill breeze blew through the air, yet she made no move to get a coat. All she could see was Rainbow’s heartbroken face.
Twilight appeared through the door. Her hair was wet and loose, and she wore one of Rarity’s white bathrobes. It was too big for her, dragging along the floor, but Rarity couldn’t bring herself to care. The woman sat on the chair next to Rarity’s, hugging the robe tight to protect against the cold. For a time, neither said anything. They took in the sparkling lights below and the cold air, partners in crimes of the heart.
The cool quiet was interrupted by Twilight’s unsteady words. “Thanks. For letting me borrow the bathrobe, I mean.”
Rarity hummed an acknowledgement, took a sip of Champagne. “Tomorrow we’ll buy you a new wardrobe. And Corona, as well.”
Twilight fidgeted, toyed with her wet hair. “I’ve got clothes. I just…. just have to get them.”
“I can afford it,” Rarity replied halfheartedly. “There’s no need to go back there. For any of us. We shouldn’t make this any more painful than it already has been.”
More quiet. More cold wind. Twilight poured herself a glass, held it in her hands. Didn’t drink. “We didn’t get to tell her.”
Another noncommittal hum from Rarity. “I meant to. Nothing about tonight went according to plan.” She sighed and stared at the ring still on her finger. “Nothing at all.”
Twilight looked to her. Looked to her glass. Looked at the starlight sky. “Are we still trying this? Is… Is it okay to?”
Rarity closed her eyes. Rainbow’s tear-streaked face stared back at her. Guilt clutched at her throat, especially when she realized that her first desire was to stop seeing that pathetic, desperate face. “Perhaps. I-if you’re still up for it. But…”
“Not now, right?” Twilight nodded, her lip pouting and her eyes faded. “Yeah. I can’t stop thinking about him. About what I’ve done. Doing anything now would be…”
“Premature?”
“Premature,” she agreed with a sigh. “But maybe, when the edge has dulled a little.” Her lips pecked at her drink, the touch so light Rarity doubted she’d actually gotten a taste of the Champagne. “Rarity, how do we know it won’t end the same way? What if this time next month we think that we’ve got something, and then…?” She bit her lip and looked away.
“And then end up with another day like today?” Rarity reclined in her seat, eyes on the stars. The wine swirled in her glass as she rotated it. Another sip to take the sting off her chest. To make the cold fear ease off a little. To make her a little braver. “I don’t know,” she finally confessed, hating how frail her voice sounded. “I don’t know, and it terrifies me. But do you really want to give up because of one disaster?”
“Do you really want to risk another disaster just for the sake of not giving up?”
Rarity offered no answer, because she didn’t know of one. She felt so heavy, like her body had been filled with lead. Life seemed so much more complicated now than it had ten years ago. Even five years ago. She recalled Rainbow’s first proposal. She’d made three of them. Rarity had said yes every time, but Rainbow did it again anyways. ‘Anything that feels this awesome deserves to be experienced again.’ Had they but known…
“I don’t want to sleep alone tonight.”
A glance saw Twilight staring at her now-empty glass. Though it made her cheeks ache, Rarity managed a small smile for her. “This from the girl who was so anxious at Margaritaville.”
Twilight’s return smirk was strained. “Not like that, you lech.” It faded just as quickly, her wet eyes drifting down once more. “I just… I feel so…”
Rarity reached out to touch her shoulder. “It’s okay, Twilight. Please, no matter what, always remember that we are friends first. Of course we can stay together tonight. In all honesty, I don’t feel like being alone either.”
Taking that hand in her own, Twilight nodded gratefully. “And Rainbow… She’ll be okay. It might take some time, but she’s resilient. Friends first, r-right?”
Would Rainbow be alright? Rarity had no way to know. A deep desperate voice within screamed that she wouldn’t be, that their friendship was ruined after tonight. But she shoved that voice down deep, deep inside and smiled. “You’re right. She’ll be alright.
“With time, we all will be.”
Sunset hated doorbells. Obnoxious inventions from Tartarus, doorbells. Impossible to escape, capable of being abused, and perfectly functional at two in the morning. Even when their owner wanted to smash them with a sledgehammer. Rubbing her eyes and making sure her pajamas were at least marginally presentable, she stumbled her way to the front door as the annoying jingle screamed through the night once more. She prayed her day of fun with Corona at the zoo had been enough to keep the girl unconscious through the racket.
She peered through her peephole and caught an eyeful of colors. The flamboyant display was enough to make her heart sink, and she quickly unbolted and opened the door. It was the one person who never came to her for help before, finger raised to press the bell again, head lowered so her eyes weren’t visible. “Rainbow Dash?”
When that colorful head rose, the revealed visage brought a quiet gasp to Sunset’s lips. Gone was the confident, smug friend of the past. This face was covered in tear stains and still soaked. Her hair was a mess, snot ran out her nose, and even now she sobbed. For a few terrible seconds, they could only stare at one another, one gaping and the other more open than Sunset could ever remember seeing her.
“S-Sunset,” Rainbow moaned. “I’m a failure. I’m a f-failure, Sunset.” She collapsed against Sunset’s chest and wept like a newborn. She would have fallen completely if Sunset hadn’t caught her.
With a sigh, Sunset held her friend tight. She knew it was going to be bad, but not like this. And if Rainbow was here, then that meant Twilight and Rarity had…
Resigning herself to a sleepless night, Sunset helped Rainbow into the house. “Want some coffee?” Rainbow could only sob some more. “Yeah. Coffee. Coffee sounds good right about now.”
The door closed, firm and solid.
Author's Note
I wasn’t originally going to write a sequel to Escape, but the idea came to me quickly and lingered in the back of my mind, begging to be done for a whole year. I figure I’ll go ahead and write one more story for this, making it a trilogy, though it may be a few months before the third story sees the light of day.
