Life Moves On

Some Things End

Spitfire glanced over her shoulder, looking for her detached flight of wing-mates. The sun was bright overhead, the glare made manageable by her goggles. The wind rushed in her ears, but even from this far she could faintly hear the cheers carried in the breeze.

Today was the final show of the Wonderbolts' calendar, in the skies above Cloudsdale's packed Cloudiseum. This was the final act, one last manoeuvre for the finale. The eight strong team had broken into two elements for the previous part of the routine and were now supposed to be forming up for one last close formation flight and break for the big finish. Everything had gone perfectly to plan and Spitfire's muscles were burning, eagerly telling her that they needed a well-earned rest.

There was only one problem. A cloud had come loose from a shipment at the weather factory and had intruded on their airspace, despite the best efforts of a panicked team of weather ponies. Bravo flight had to detour around and Spitfire had lost them.

“Four, One. Talk to me Soarin,” Spitfire tersely commanded into the throat-mic cleverly hidden in her flight suit. “Are you able to make the intercept? Alpha can hold in pattern if you're delayed, over.”

“One, Four, negative on the pattern, intercept in five seconds. Out,” The reply in her ear was strained, the stallion sounded like he was giving it his all.

True to his word, Spitfire saw four blue-suited ponies come banking around the edge of the rogue cloud, flying so fast and pulling so hard that Spitfire swore she could see vapour shock clouds forming on their hooves as they raced into view.

Hitting their pre planned time to the second, the whole Wonderbolt flight formed up and raced low into the Cloudiseum in tight formation, before splitting in spectacular fan break, kicking on their lightning trails at that same instant so the wildly cheering audience was deafened by a tremendous thunderclap, leaving slowly dissipating streamers of cloud drifting lazily behind them.

The Wonderbolts quickly came back to the packed arena and flew a couple of lazy laps for the fans before setting down near the tunnels to the changing areas.

“Alright 'Bolts, great show out there!” Spitfire rasped, still catching her breath as she put her goggles around her neck and pulled down the cowl covering her head, before making eye contact with each of her teammates in turn. “Excellent working around that cloud up there, really looked like we were going to have to circle around and leave the ponies down here waiting for a second there.”

Fleetfoot adopted her characteristic scowl at that, “I want somepony's butt for that mess! If it had gone any further that cloud would've thrown off the whole show!”

“It's not too bad, Fleet,” Soarin said, “we just needed to pull a few extra Gs, that's all.” Out of the corner of her eye, Spitfire noticed Soarin's right wing subtly twitch as he said it. She was reasonably confident none of the other Wonderbolts had noticed.

“I'm sure whoever's in charge over there has already laid into them,” Spitfire said. “Right, meet and greet is scheduled in five minutes, better start getting over there. Me and Soarin have some paperwork that still needs finishing up, so go have fun and we'll probably see you later at the bar.”

As the Wonderbolts took to the air once more heading for their appointment with eager fans just outside the stadium Rainbow Dash couldn't help spare a glance at the two retreating figures making their way into the tunnel.
“They've left early a few times this season,” Rainbow ventured. “I'd bet a barrel of Applejack's best cider it isn't because of “paperwork”!”

“Well, I doubt it's because Spitfire can't wait another hour to get bucked in the showers!” Fleetfoot snarked. Rainbow Dash blushed under her suit and Thunderlane took his chance to pipe up.

“It's gotta be pretty important if Soarin's going without a peep. You all know how much he hates letting down the fans.” The others all nodded in agreement.

“Talking of disappointing the fans, let's get a move on, 'Bolts! Let's not keep those ponies waiting!” Fleetfoot barked, the team then rapidly streaking away.

The door to the spacious changing area shut with a click and everything fell quiet. Soarin and Spitfire had the entire space to themselves and intended to take full advantage of it. Almost immediately Spitfire dropped the act of being the stoic leader of the Wonderbolts and turned to nuzzle Soarin gently.

“How bad?” She asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Soarin pulled away and pulled his flight goggles off. His eyes were creased in considerable pain and he grimaced. “Pretty bad,” The stallion had to fight to get his words out evenly. “Really over cooked that last manoeuvre, huh?”

Spitfire gently nudged Soarin's right wing with her muzzle and the stallion let out a pained hiss.

“I told you you could go around instead of having to push yourself like that!” Spitfire grumbled.

“I know, I thought I could get away with it,” Soarin grumbled. “It was the last show, for the home crowd! How could I let them down?”

“But you've got to think about yourself too, what if your wing gave out completely? What would the fans think then?” Spitfire's rebuttal was still quiet. She looked Soarin in the eyes. “What would I do?”

Soarin looked down at the floor in shame, unable to form a reply. Spitfire sighed and draped a wing across his back, pressing as close as she dared to his side without touching his wing. The fiery yellow pegasus led Soarin Further into the space, with a line of lockers against one wall, a long bench along the middle and an entrance to the communal showers on the opposite side.

The two ponies broke apart, Spitfire going to the lockers while Soarin stayed near the bench and pulled his goggles off entirely. He pulled his cowl down and unzipped the front half of his flight suit and tried to pull a foreleg out of the tight material but the shifting fabric pulled at the slots for his wings. The normally stoic stallion hissed, frozen in place as pain lanced along his right wing and through the powerful flight muscles on his barrel and back.

Spitfire heard this and snapped around in concern.

“Don't strain yourself any further, just get under the showers and I'll be in to lend you a hoof as soon as I can,” she said, hoofing over a packet of ibuprofen and a bottle of water to the beleaguered stallion.

Soarin gratefully washed a couple of the tablets down with a swig from the bottle, “Thanks Spits, I'll see you in a bit,” he said before he slowly trotted out of sight into the showers. Shortly afterwards the sound of running water could be heard and steam started to drift out.

Spitfire sighed. Honestly she couldn't say that this was how she would have wanted the afternoon to pan out. She longed for the normal after show routine, going to meet eager fans and carrying out the Wonderbolt's mission to inspire the next generation of fliers and to generally encourage ponies to be the best they could be in themselves.

More than that though she missed the camaraderie with the rest of the team. They were a close knit team out of necessity and in many ways behaved as a herd. Training and flying they needed perfect discipline to carry out the kind of flying they did, anything less would be unacceptably dangerous. But with all that being said they were still just ponies, that run on incredible levels of adrenaline and were surrounded by other pegasi at peak physical fitness. After a big show like this one they would all need to blow off steam and it was those times that Spitfire relished the most about being in the 'Bolts.

The fact that a lot of the after show hi-jinks ended in debauchery had a certain appeal for Spitfire too. Being the leader of the Wonderbolts she had a need to hold herself to a higher standard and the only times she could really cut loose and indulge her wild side were in the private safety of the team's locker rooms, lest she wanted to be splashed all over the next day's tabloids.

As she sloughed off her flight suit like a snake shedding its skin, she made note of all the little aches and pains. They really were a lot more noticeable these days. She wasn't a young mare any more, although she shrugged it off, she still wasn't old! She'd take umbrage with anypony who even insinuated otherwise! If she wanted, she still probably had at least a decade left in the team. One particular twinge in a wing suddenly sharply focused her mind on the stallion waiting for her in the shower.

Soarin... Spitfire felt all of her prior irritation wash away. They had known each other since they were foals, if only in passing. They'd joined the Wonderbolts academy at the same time and quickly become firm friends. She had to admit though that they were more than simply friends by this point. They had been on and off over the years but they had become much closer in the last few seasons and now Spitfire couldn't really imagine life without the big lug in it any more. Even if she enjoyed the after show shenanigans with the rest of her team they'd also spend time together in the off seasons. Spitfire had many warm memories of spending the cold winter days curled up together under a blanket watching the snow falling outside, feeling safe and secure with Soarin's proximity. Even on a purely professional level, they had given each other the encouragement needed to push themselves beyond what they thought they were capable of. Soarin needed her help now, and spitfire wasn't about to let him down!

Nosing around the corner into the shower area, the yellow pegasus saw her friend sat on his haunches under one of the shower heads, his mane plastered to his coat and left wing drooping. Soarin had angled himself so that the steaming water mainly splashed down onto the right side of his back near to the base of his wing, which was still clamped firmly to the stallion's side.

He looked utterly dejected and Spitfire couldn't stand seeing him like this. “Hey, I'm here.” she said warmly. Soarin looked up and got a friendly nuzzle in greeting before Spitfire moved to his side, herself now getting soaked by the shower of warm water. She sat back on her haunches and gingerly reached out with her forehooves to the base of his right wing, carefully feeling the taught muscle and trying to move the limb. The stallion simply hissed in response.

“I can't believe this,” Soarin muttered. “It's what, the third time this season?”

“It's not your fault, Soarin,” Spitfire replied, having given up on trying to move the other pegasus' wing and simply massaging around the joints. “We'll get through this, we always do.”

“It's all so stupid. That just one accident could lead to all of this!” Soarin said bitterly. “I keep thinking about those Equestria Games qualifiers, of how I missed that one hoop. It should've been the easiest thing in the world to avoid!”

Despite herself, Spitfire couldn't help but chuckle, “Of course, if I remember correctly you were spending more time ogling the cheerleaders than what was in front of you.”

Soarin groaned and covered his face with his good wing. “Ugh, I was so dumb back then!”

“I know, but you've matured a lot in the years since,” Spitfire leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, taking Soarin slightly by surprise and making him retract his wing. “There's no point worrying about the past anyway. What's done is done and you can only focus on what you're going to do now.”

Soarin sighed and looked away again, “That's what I'm worried about.”

“What do you mean?” Spitfire kept working at her friend's wing as they talked.

“Do you remember when we started training at the academy?”

“Now there's some ancient history!” Spitfire snorted. “But yeah, why?”

“You know in that first gruelling week we promised each other we'd be there for each other no matter what?”

“Uh-huh,” Spitfire momentarily paused her massage, a lump coming to her throat. She really didn't like this turn in the conversation.

“I really don't know how I can keep this up, Spits. It's been getting worse and like you said, what happens if I push too far one day and end up seriously hurt or worse,” The stallion started letting everything out in a rush, “we're not really young any more and it's really catching up with me. One day my mouth's going to write a cheque that my body can't cash. I think it's going to be sooner than later. I won't be able to watch your back like I promised any more.”

“Wait, so you're going to retire?” Spitfire was shocked. “But Soarin, I thought you loved flying!”

“I do,” The stallion replied, “but what we do is extreme and it's taking it's toll. I want to be able to do basic tricks when I'm old and grey. I won't be able to fly at all if I keep this up. Besides, I feel like a foal getting myself like this, not even able to undress myself!”

Spitfire felt Soarin's wing start to move slightly without the stallion tensing up under her hooves.

“You can't help it,” she reassured, “I think we'll be able to get it off now. Chin up.”

The yellow pegasus meant it both metaphorically and literally as she moved to Soarin's front, reaching under the stallion's chin to pull at the zipper hidden under his neck. Spitfire grasped it gently in her teeth and pulled down. It offered more resistance than usual with the now sodden fabric wanting to awkwardly bunch up, but Spitfire had done this before.

Spitfire still found it felt strange though. Ponies didn't often wear clothes, but undressing another was still considered one of the most intimate things two ponies could do. Spitfire and Soarin had stripped each other out of their uniforms on many an occasion in a much more lascivious manner. But now it was all the same motion but with none of the excitement or passion. A selfish part of Spitfire wished that it was though. She was still worked up after the show and couldn't think of a better partner to ease that tension out with.

The yellow mare slipped the zipper down, the two halves of the flight suit peeling apart to reveal light blue fur underneath. She pulled it past the stallion's toned chest muscles and he reared back a bit to allow Spitfire better access to his underside. As more of the pegasus was revealed, Spitfire was getting whiffs of Soarin's masculine scent before the steaming water cascading across his body washed it away. While not particularly unpleasant, it did make Spitfire struggle a little to keep focused on the task at hoof, especially as she passed below the stallion's ribcage and sped up along his barrel.

Spitfire soon had to slow though as she reached the point she found most tricky. The mare carefully pulled the zipper around Soarin's sheath, being careful not to let the sliding metal catch on the sensitive anatomy, especially where it was pressed into his body by the stretchy flight suit and spilled out around the zip. She was a little disappointed but unsurprised that Soarin wasn't showing any signs of arousal- he was probably too distracted by the discomfort in his wing to think about what spitfire was doing. The yellow pegasus smirked to herself as she narrowly avoided getting smacked in the face by the stallion's testicles as they too flopped free.

Of course, this left Spitfire in the perfect position to proceed to more salacious activities, but she relented. She did fondly recall times like this in the past where she had helped “undress” Soarin, but had taken her time and peppered his body as she trailed down his toned body, stoking his excitement as she honed in on her prize before inevitably going down on him. The mare's tail subconsciously twitched as she remembered the blue pegasus more than enthusiastically returning the favour as well.

They had gone in that direction before with Soarin's wing playing up and Spitfire knew he'd go along with it, but was also keenly aware that the stallion's wing would be extraordinarily sore in the process and Soarin wouldn't really enjoy himself. Spitfire wasn't selfish enough to put him through that for her own sake; she'd just wait the few hours the stallion would need to settle.

Soarin looked the yellow pegasus nervously in the eye as she withdrew and he dropped back to all four hooves. Spitfire did her best to flash him a disarming smile, trying to look as confident as possible. Even if she certainly didn't feel it, they both knew full well that this next part was going to be uncomfortable.

“All right, let's start with the legs,” Spitfire said, rearing up and balancing with her wings while she pinned one forehoof to Soarin's side just in front of his right wing and the other pulling at the loose flap of flight suit hanging from his chest. The stallion awkwardly pulled his front right leg out, the tight material clutching to his limb and rolling itself inside out from the friction. Soarin grit his teeth and hissed as the suit bunched up and tugged at the slot where his wing emerged from the suit, but he was grateful for Spitfire's help. If she wasn't carefully pinning the fabric in place the pulling and discomfort would be orders of magnitude worse.

“Thanks, Spits,” the stallion breathed before going to grab the left side of his suit with his teeth. “There's no way I could manage by myself right now.” The left leg was much easier, with a lot less force being applied to Soarin's bad wing. Once he was done he was standing awkwardly under the shower with the front half of the suit awkwardly draped around his barrel.

“All right, let's get this over with,” Soarin huffed, angling himself so the still steaming water was hitting the top of his bad wing more directly.

“All right, deep breaths,” Spitfire steadied herself as the stallion next to her tensed up. She carefully gripped the bunched up leading portion of Soarin's flight suit an pulled stretching it as far from the right side of his body as possible. Simultaneously she kept her eyes on what the stallion's wing was doing and carefully manipulated it with her hooves, trying her best to listen to Soarin's hissing through his teeth over the rushing water pelting her ears and trying to minimise the pain she was causing.

For Soarin, every small movement sent fire lancing through his wing and racing across the big flight muscles on his chest and back. Even though the movements were relatively small and restrained, only extending his wing and flexing it a small amount it felt to the stallion as if spitfire was trying to twist the limb clean off. The blue pegasus couldn't help but paw at the tiled floor as he felt the tight slit in the suit pull across his wing, amplifying the sensations tenfold.

Then, almost as quickly as it had started, the wing popped free and flopped back to rest half extended against the stallion's barrel. Spitfire quickly moved to his other side and slipped the left wing free. This time was much easier and was extremely fluid, Soarin being able to flex his wing just the right way to let Spitfire slip it free without any fuss. When that was done Soarin let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. It was all clear sailing from here. Now both wings were free, Spitfire just kept a grip of the garment in her teeth and just kept pulling along the stallion's back, the garment now easily slipping off of his back and toned flanks. As Soarin's tail came free Spitfire dropped the garment and pinned the crumpled fabric to the floor, letting the blue stallion tug his hindlegs free without ceremony.

One completely free, the yellow pegasus kicked the sodden flight suit away, staring at the blue and yellow pile with disgust, knowing she had just hurt her dearest friend so badly. She was snapped from her reverie by Soarin nuzzling up against her neck. Spitfire melted into the stallion as he leaned against her. They sat down under the warm shower, the stallion unfurling his left wing and draping it over the yellow pegasus' back, who also let her wings droop.

“Thanks Spitfire,” Soarin said, hugging the slightly smaller mare tightly with his good wing. “I really appreciate you keeping the other 'Bolts away as well. I really don't want to be seen being like a helpless foal.”

“It's all right,” Spitfire murmured, closing her eyes and wriggling slightly to get more comfortable against the stallion's side. “I don't think the others would think anything less of you, but I wouldn't like to be seen like that either.”

The pair of pegasi sat under the shower head for a good while, just enjoying each other's company and letting the warm water soak in. Eventually Soarin flexed his right wing and gave it an experimental flap, still feeling sore but certainly now useable. Reluctantly, Spitfire pulled away.

“Okay, let's get properly cleaned up and get out of here,” Spitfire announced, reaching for a bottle of soap left on a convenient tray. The two Wonderbolts lathered up and showered off in a much more relaxed manner, joking and laughing as they scrubbed down and helped watch each other with the awkward spots between their wings.

Soon enough they were both cleaned up and towelled off, the dirty laundry thrown into the hamper and the pair made their way out of the Cloudiseum

“Reckon you're good to fly?” Spitfire asker her companion, who nodded eagerly.

“Sure, not far from home,” Soarin replied, breaking into a canter and getting airborne with a couple gentle beats of his wings. “Besides, a gentle flight will probably do some good!”

Spitfire launched into the air after him and flew in a lazy formation, “Best stay over solid ground, or better yet some nice clouds for a while though.”

“Yeah, I know,” the stallion replied, before flashing Spitfire a grin and laughing. “Getting into a flat-spin out to sea would be pretty bad, wouldn't it?”

“By the clear skies above Soarin, don't joke about that!” Spitfire said, her tone betraying her mock offence before she started chuckling too.

The two Wonderbolts flew leisurely in the glorious Cloudsdale afternoon, enjoying the sun and light breezes. It was a busy weekend afternoon with a myriad of colourful pegasi and a smaller number of gryphons and even a few hippogryphs weaving their way through the aerial streets and avenues of the airborne city. In what seemed like almost no time at all Soarin's cloud house came up below them.

“Take it you'll be at the bar later tonight?” Spitfire called over to the stallion on her wing. “I actually do have some paperwork to sort out at home, so I've got to shoot.”

“Yeah, sure will boss,” Soarin threw a lazy mock salute at his captain and grinned. “I'll swing by yours on the way over if you want?”

“Sure, why not?” Spitfire smirked. “Just don't be too late, we don't want to miss out on all the fun!”

Soarin started circling down to land. “No worries, see you later! Thanks again for everything!”

The yellow pegasus mare circled a couple of times until Soarin had touched down before powering off towards her own home, conveniently closer to the Wonderbolts' training grounds.

****

Unsurprisingly, the bar at the Wonderbolts Academy was exceptionally busy this evening. Perched on top of a towering mesa not far from Cloudsdale's usual position, Miramare Airbase made for a perfect location for the Wonderbolt's permanent base.

The O Club had an entrance onto the airbase specifically for it and currently there was a sizeable queue of ponies waiting to get in. There always was after a show in Cloudsdale. Luckily for Soarin and Spitfire though, they had already come onto the base to drop off paperwork they'd processed that afternoon. Instead of waiting to get checked onto the site the pair simply alighted onto the roof of the club and were waved through by the bouncer.

The two pegasi had decided to dress up a little. Spitfire in her fleece lined bomber jacket and shades, while Soarin opted for his blue dress shirt adorned with Wonderbolt pins on the collars and rank stripes on the sleeves. As they made their way down the stairs to the top level of the club the pulsing music hit their ears. They were quickly spotted by their team-mates who had already taken over a large table in a prominent spot near the bar.

The club was split into two levels with the ground floor open to anypony but the upper level reserved for Wonderbolts, Royal guards and their guests. This exclusive floor was arranged as a wide mezzanine arranged around a large circular hole in the floor which looked down on the expansive dance floor below and a large skylight above- the reason for the name of the club. Expensive enchantments kept the volume at a reasonable volume for conversation away from the dance floor, allowing for the whole arrangement to work.

As the two senior Wonderbolts made their way over to their colleagues, Soarin looked down over the railings to the ponies wildly gyrating on the dance floor and some even performing low level aerobatics in the air above it. Watching the display, he gave an appreciative whistle.

“Now, this is what I'd call a target rich environment!”

“You must be better,” Spitfire groaned, “Back to living your life between your legs.”

“Spits, even you could get laid in a place like this,” Soarin replied, shooting the yellow pegasus a wink. Spitfire blushed a little but quickly regained her composure and booped the blue stallion on the nose with a wing.

“Trust me,” She shot back with a grin, before leaning in close and whispering in Soarin's ear, “I'd love to find a colt who'd talk dirty to me.” She quickly trotted away, flicking her fiery tail across Soarin's face as she left, leaving the stallion rooted to the floor and blushing profusely.

“Hey Boss,” Fleetfoot called out as Spitfire drew near. “Looks like you broke the number two over there.”

Spitfire smirked, chancing a glance over her shoulder to the stallion who was just starting to recover from his stupor, “Some ponies just don't learn not to dish out what they can't take.”

“Yeah, Soarin tries to look tough but he's just a big softy really,” Rainbow dash said, chuckling herself.

“Hey Spitfire! Soarin!” Thunderlane called out as the blue stallion arrived at the table. “Want me to get you guys a drink? I'm just going for one more then I have to go. Don't want to be back in Ponyville too late tonight.”

“Yeah, sure!” Soarin answered quickly. “What's got you in a rush?”

As Thunderlane got up from his seat at the table he flicked out a charcoal coloured wing, flashing a glimpse of a single Pale lavender secondary feather standing out amongst the other dark plumage. It clearly wasn't one of his.

Imping- repairing a broken feather with a suitable replacement by cutting the old feather off above the shaft and fixing the undamaged replacement feather in place with a sliver of wood in the shaft and bound with glue was common amongst pegasi, especially those who were more active or prone to striking their wings against things. However in a simple replacement an old moulted feather would be used, or if one had to be donated it would be dyed or magically altered to match the pegasus' other feathers.

In this case it was a very old pegasus custom. Unicorns and Earth Ponies would get married, but pegasi tending to be more carefree and capricious than the other tribes opted for something different. When committing to a partner a pair of pegasi would imp one of each other's feathers onto the other. Both as a sign of loyalty to their partner but also demonstrating a deep level of trust, since the donated feather would be important generating lift when flying.

It isn't necessarily permanent though, as befitting the more carefree nature of the pegasi. Each year a pegasus moults his or her feathers and this imped feather will fall out as well, requiring a new replacement which reaffirms their bond or the dissolution of their partnership.

“Don't want to leave Cloudchaser hanging for too long. She's got enough on her plate with the big summer storm scheduled for tomorrow, let alone looking after the little one,” the charcoal pegasus quipped before heading over to the bar.

Fleetfoot looked over the table, “So Dash, you going as well to help out in Ponyville too?”

The rainbow maned pegasus just waved a hoof nonchalantly, “Yeah, yeah, I'll head over in the morning.”

“Sure you won't be late?” Misty-Fly, a cream yellow mare quipped.

“Well, if you want, I could race you there tomorrow?” Rainbow replied with a cocky smirk.

Misty held up her hooves in mock surrender, “No worries, I believe you!”

Soarin chuckled, before noticing spitfire had become a little pensive at his side.

“Hey, what're you thinking?” he asked.

“How Thunderlane has time for a family,” Spitfire replied, glancing over towards the bar. “He's always busy training or going to outreach programs.”

“Well, it's like you always say,” Soarin said, nudging her gently, “if something's important, you make the time.”

“Huh,” Spitfire mused quietly, “guess I should learn to practice what I preach.”

“What was that?” Soarin asked, not quite able to hear.

“Oh, nothing,” Spitfire quickly looked away, “just thinking to myself.”

“Well,” Soarin chuckled, “I'm just surprised Thunderlane's lasted as somepony's bondmate long enough to start a family.”

“Oof,” spitfire groaned. “Don't let him catch you hearing that!”

The evening went well, despite Thunderlane's early exit. Drinks were had and the Wonderbolts swapped stories from the season and from the past. It was at this point that Rainbow Dash pointed to one of the framed photographs adorning the walls of the club. It was the Wonderbolt team from years ago, well over a decade old. Most of the team was different, but Spitfire could be seen stood proudly in the number two spot, with Soarin and a couple of the others mixed in too. The lead pony was a middle aged, olive coated mare with a red mane that was just starting to go grey.

“What was it like back then, under the old lead?” Rainbow Dash asked.

“Old Red Top? Now there was a dedicated flyer if ever I saw one,” Fleetfoot said. “We thought she'd never retire! She kept saying they'd have to prize the job from her cold, dead hooves if somepony wanted to take it from her!”

“She was a good flight lead though,” Soarin added. “She did a really good job of training us too, especially Spitfire. I think Red saw a lot of herself in Spits.”

“Yeah, there's no way any of us who worked under her would be where we are today without her.” Spitfire added. “The Wonderbolts were her entire life, really.”

Rainbow looked thoughtful, “That must have been quite the shock when she retired. Have you spoken to her lately?”

“Of course,” Spitfire quickly replied. “I caught up with her just a few months back, she's doing all right.”

“That's good to hear,” Fleetfoot chimed in, “it would be nice to see if we could get another reunion set up soon.”

“Sounds like a great idea. In the meantime however,” Spitfire agreed, before lifting her glass. “To all Wonderbolts, past and present!”

The toast was met with raucous approval and clinking of glasses.

****

The moon had risen well into the sky by the time the Wonderbolts started to drift away from the club. Soarin and Spitfire left together, flying leisurely back towards Cloudsdale. The yellow pegasus was pleasantly buzzed from a few rounds at the club and felt her inhibitions loosened.

“Hey, Soarin?” Spitfire called. “About what you said earlier, in the showers.”

Soarin tensed for a moment before replying, “Yeah, what about it?”

“You're really thinking of throwing in the towel?” the yellow pegasus asked. “Not doing another season?"

The blue stallion sighed, looking down at the dark landscape passing below, “No, I don't think so. I didn't want to say anything tonight and ruin the mood. Everypony deserved a party after a great show.”

“Yeah it would have been a real downer,” Spitfire agreed, looking over at her companion. “Still, it's weird to think about. Honestly I never really thought much about the future. I was always wrapped up in keeping everything going. Kinda thought everything would last forever, you know?”

“Heh, I don't think you're the first pony to think like that,” Soarin chuckled. “I was the same until the wing started flaring up a couple of years ago. Still, things do change.”

“They do,” Spitfire agreed. “I've been thinking a lot about what you said earlier. I think you made the right decision. If you keep pushing yourself to the limits you'll injure yourself permanently. I don't think I could live with myself if that happened.”

“Thanks, Spits,” the blue stallion was pensive. “I guess you've never really thought about what you'll do after the Wonderbolts yourself then?”

“No, I haven't,” the yellow pegasus admitted.

“Well, I guess you won't have to worry for years yet,” Soarin chuckled. “I'll bet you'll end up just like Red Top.”

“I don't want to be like Red top!”

“What?” Spitfire's sudden outburst took the blue stallion completely by surprise and he came to a stop, hovering gently in mid-air. Spitfire took notice and came into a hover facing him.

“What do you mean?” Soarin asked, confused. “I thought you always wanted to follow in her hoofsteps?”

“I used to,” Spitfire said, “But you remember I said I went to visit a while back?”

“Yeah, just back at the club, why?” the blue stallion was still very confused. “You said she was doing fine.”

“She is,” Spitfire explained, “but we're not as alike as you think. She put everything into her flying. Over the years everypony she's ever been close to has drifted away as she was consumed by her work. But she's always been happy with her own company.”

Spitfire looked down at her hooves, “I don't want to be alone, not like that.”

“That won't happen, Spitfire, trust me,” Soarin was suddenly serious.

“How can you be so sure?” Spitfire asked. “You're leaving, and...” Spitfire trailed off and turned away.

“And what?” Soarin said, fluttering over and putting a hoof on her shoulder.

The yellow pegasus hesitated, then took a deep, shuddering breath.

“I love you, Soarin!” she suddenly blurted out.

“I know,” Soarin replied, quietly.

“You're my rock and I don't know what I'm going to do when you're gone -” The fiery pegasus suddenly stopped, then paused for a moment “- wait, what did you say?”

Soarin moved in front of her, noticing the tears in the corners of her eyes.

“I said I know,” the stallion said, smiling. “Is that what's gotten you so worked up? You thought I was leaving you for good?”

“Uh-huh,” the yellow pegasus nodded demurely.

Soarin swept her up in a bear like hug.

“Oh you silly little pony. I'll always be with you, I just won't be able to fly with you in the Wonderbolts any more.”

Soarin suddenly snorted, “If you think it's that easy to get rid of me you'll be really disappointed!”

“Do you really mean it?” Spitfire asked quietly.

“Of course,” the stallion answered softly. “In fact I've felt the same way about you for a long time now.”

Spitfire sighed happily, before whispering in his ear, “Well, you'll have to prove it.”

Soarin broke away and looked at her, “How?”

The yellow pegasus looked back at him with half lidded eyes and a playful smirk.

“Take me to bed or lose me forever!”

Soarin put on a smirk of his own, “Show me the way home, honey!”