If Only To See Your Face Again
“Twilight, do you ever wonder what’s out there?” Rarity piped up, chewing on her bottom lip.
“No,” Twilight replied, and Rarity fought back some disappointment at the conviction and certainty in her voice.
“But why?”
“There’s two questions you could be asking here Rarity,” Twilight replied, continuing to stare at the wall in front of her, “Are you asking me why I don’t wonder what’s out there because I don’t know if something is, or are you asking me whether I don’t wonder because I know exactly what’s out there?”
“I heard there are bears out there,” Rarity said, peering out of the window into the woods. Wind whipped through the trees and threw flurries of rain, “I heard ponies go into those woods and don’t come out. I heard the bears wait for ponies to stumble into the trees, alone, and devour them. Oh yes, that’s what I heard.”
She turned to Twilight, who was facing away from her. Every time she came to visit it was the same thing. She’d stare at one of the walls, never letting Rarity see her face. And finally, she’d head back home and make her way into those woods, leaving Rarity here in this...
Well that was a good point, wasn’t it? Rarity didn’t actually know where this was.
“What’s the question, Rarity?”
“I guess it’s some small measure of comfort. Knowing about the bears,” Rarity continued, unabated, “Maybe some would say I’m a superstitious mare, hiding herself away. But what if, Twilight? What if?”
“What’s your question, Rarity?”
The wind picked up even more, the leaves on the trees danced in the showers of rain. Through fogged glass, amid the movement of the foliage, Rarity thought she could see something large and stationary, immobile, eternal. It looked like the forest went on forever. So many trees, so many bushes, so many places for bears to hide.
“I’ve changed my mind Twilight,” Rarity said, tearing her eyes from the window, “I don’t want to know what you think is in the woods. I want to ask a different question.”
“And what’s that?”
“I want to know why you won’t look at me? Your visits are getting fewer and further between. But each time, I never see your face. Why is that?”
“You want to know why I won’t look at you?”
Rarity turned back to resume staring out the window. Tears began to mist her eyes, fighting with the foggy glass to obscure any chance she had to see bears hiding in the trees. Large, feral bears. Bloodthirsty bears, waiting to pounce if she ever left, forcing her to stay inside a place she didn’t recognise.
“No… No I don’t think I care why you won’t. I just want you to turn around, Twilight. Turn around and look at me please.”
“I can’t do that, I’m afraid.” Twilight replied. And, though it stung Rarity, she was at least relieved by the fact that Twilight sounded hurt too.
“Where do you come from when you visit me Twilight? Do you come from the forest, how do you make it past the bears? Tell me about the bears, Twilight, please” Rarity choked out.
She moved away from the window and walked around to try and see Twilight’s face. But, with every step so too did the world tilt. It was like she was living inside an optical illusion, where reality itself bent to cruelly limit her perception, hiding her friend’s visage from her. Keeping her alone.
“You told me you didn’t want to know what I thought was in the woods. You didn’t want to know why I won’t look at you,” Twilight said, “What do you want, Rarity?”
“Am… am I right, Twilight? To hide from the bears? Because I don’t want them to get me, but something I think you would look at me if I went out there. Sometimes I think that you’d finally turn around if I left my home and went out hunting bears?” Rarity asked, her voice cracking into a sob. When she heard Twilight start to sob too, Rarity tried to reach out to comfort her. But with every step she took, her friend seemed to stretch further into the distance.
“Home?” Twilight asked, “Is that where this is?”
“I don’t know where I am, Twilight,” Rarity wailed as the wind picked up outside, and Twilight continued to stretch further and further away from her.
“I think there are bears in the woods.”
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“Come home, Rarity.”
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“Twilight?” nurse Heartfire called out behind her, rousing her from the mild doze she’d drifted into, “Visiting time is over.”
Twilight wasn’t facing Rarity. The truth was that she still couldn’t really bear to look at her friend. Instead, Twilight just face the walls and gently talk to her, in the hopes a part of her couldn’t still be reached.
She didn’t turn around to face the nurse until she had cleaned the tears from her eyes, affecting at least a veneer of mild presentability. It wasn’t necessary, but admitting that she had been crying felt like breaking a spell. Like the reality of Rarity’s ceaseless slumber would finally become unavoidable.
“You can come tomorrow dear, I think she’d like that,” the nurse offered gently.
“It’s funny, sometimes I wonder whether she knows I’m here,” Twilight replied.
She turned back and forced herself to look at Rarity. Her white coat was marked with bruises and cuts, and all over was dressing, covering the entry of wires and tubes into her fragile body.
It was curious, the way they spared her loved ones from seeing the true extent of what they’d had to do to her, saving them from a pain Rarity didn’t even know they’d have to go through. Though the various machines softly beeping, keeping her in some stationery limbo between life and death, were an unavoidable reminder.
The two were silent for a moment until Twilight spoke out again.
“Do you think… that this is it? Do you think she’ll ever come back?”
“There’s two questions you could be asking there, dear,” Heartfire replied, her voice kind and sympathetic, “Are you asking me my opinion as a nurse, or as a friend?”
“Neither,” Twilight replied bluntly, “I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to know.”
