I stir awake and groan tiredly. As I rise to consciousness, it quickly occurs to me that I don't feel fully rested but I can't go back to sleep either. Maybe it's because I feel too anxious.

I look around to get my bearings again. Although it is pretty dark, I can still see enough to realize that I am in my bedroom at my sister's place. I honestly don't recall being sent here. In fact, I still recall the dream I just had a moment ago better than how I got here in the first place. I'm beginning to suspect I got teleported here while I was unconscious in Starlight's bedroom which is the last place I do recall falling asleep in.

My ears perk up when I notice a tiny sound of snoring somewhere nearby. As I look about, I locate Ocellus sleeping in my bedroom on the one piece of furniture that doesn't belong here. Namely, my sister's oh-so-famous and sentimental fainting couch. With it here and used, it leaves me a little concerned about my sister's health. If she fainted now without that piece of furniture then she might collapse onto the floor and get her coat all dirty and such.

After a moment it more fully sinks in the fuller implications of Ocellus sleeping in my bedroom. She's so attached to me right now that it's like I'm dragging her around like an anchor. She has her own bedroom and her own life to live but all of that is put on hold just to support a friend.

Part of me is touched, but a much greater part of me feels a gaping hole in my chest which is largely due to guilt. I'm Sweetie Belle, for pony's sake! I'm supposed to be the one helping others because it feels good! It's what I'm meant to do! That's what my cutie mark is for. So, to look at my situation now when I'm actually being a burden on someone else instead of being helpful breaks my heart. What did Ocellus do to deserve this? Why should her entire life be put on hold just because I'm going through a tough time right now?

This is the exact opposite of my destiny and it feels so wrong.

I hate it! I hate it! I HATE it!

I crawl out of my bed slowly in fear of waking Ocellus up. After being forced to follow me all day as well as getting hurt when the still unnamed entity within me attacked my friends, I strongly feel that this sweet little changeling absolutely deserves every second of rest she can get.

I look at her all curled up on the fainting couch while a soft, fluffy wool blanket with tiny sparkles of glitter in it rests comfortably on her.

Stealthfully, I try to creep out of my room. I actually wince every single time I hear the floorboards creak. I remember this happening before, too. This even occurred at my parents’ place as well. For example, if I was trying to sneak down into the kitchen and pilfer a cookie from the cookie jar, only then do the floorboards sound like this. Why does that always happen? It never seems to do that when I'm trotting normally. Only when I'm actually afraid to get caught is when I keep hearing sounds like this. It's as if the treacherous floorboards are actually trying to tattle on me.

I wince at the front door as I realize I might have the same problem there. I really try to open it slowly and carefully but every tiny little sound seems greatly amplified. I nervously look over my shoulder as the light in the hallway spills into my bedroom which was the primary source of light even before I opened the door due to the light seeping in from around the door cracks. I notice Ocellus's ears flick a few times as if trying to swat aside a fly. During those few seconds, I totally freeze. I don't even dare to breathe. Only when she seems to settle down again do I breathe a tiny sigh of relief then carefully exit my room. I close the door while peeking through it. I see the light on my changeling friend narrowing as I shut the door. She does not seem to stir again.

So far, so good.

Only when I have the door fully shut do I realize that I hear my sister crying in her room. My head and ears perk up since I'm curious if I heard that right. First my ears and then my face turn in the direction I am hearing the sound. I pause to listen. Eventually I notice that she is crying, but fairly faintly. I can only hear her in sporadic spurts when she happens to be loud enough to catch it.

Next, I sneak my way to her bedroom. As I draw closer to my sister’s room, I can hear her crying better. When I arrive, I notice her door ajar just a bit. It is as if she was afraid to fully shut her door just in case I needed her.

I debate this for a moment before gently nudging the door open with my muzzle. As the opening of her door expands, so, too, does my vision of her bedroom. As the obscuring structure peels away, I keep noticing how I don't see Rarity yet until the door opens enough for me to spot her at her sewing machine workstation, but she isn't working on any clothing right now. Instead of that, she has her face planted on her workstation and her forehooves covering her head from behind.

For a moment I thought she might be crying because . . . Well, actually, there can be all sorts of reasons. She honestly does this a lot, but it seems rarer these days.

But then something else snaps in my mind. I remember how calm my sister reacted when my friends told her the whole news shortly after I arrived at her place. This was after I got kicked out of my parents’ place, too. At the time I thought she took the news that calmly because she experienced so much worse during her adventures, but now I'm beginning to realize that she merely bottled her emotions for my sake.

In other words, she hid her pain to protect my feelings because she didn't wish to be a burden.

I look down sadly as I realize how much I understand her feelings. Thoughts like that just went through my head a few minutes ago.

I should have known better. My sister is a very sensitive pony. Her emotions are like a sponge. She’s always absorbing whatever she experiences around her. The most she can do to hide it is delay reactions like this until she is in privacy. By pretending to be the calm and sensible one, it is being generous to others around her that she cares about.

Then I frown as another thought occurs to me. Honestly, I get this a lot from other adult ponies as well. It is touching how they keep trying to protect the feelings of young foals like me but it's also a bit condescending. It's like they keep saying to themselves, “No! Hide how severe the situation is because these young ponies can't hoofle the stress. Let's just pretend that everything is all hunky-dory so that these immature little foals don't have to worry their innocent little heads.”

I wonder if my sister had to put up with that as she grew up, or my parents, for that matter. Why is every adult pony always treating us as if we're made of fragile glass?

For a moment, I feel torn on how to react. Do I enter her room and attempt to comfort her or do I sneak away so she'll think she was never caught in this apparently awkward situation?

Neither option feels totally ideal but she did try to hide this from me so maybe I'll let her keep this moment of privacy. I don't know what to say to comfort her anyway.

I bite into the doorknob in order to pull it to a close. When I do so, I hear the door creak louder than ever as if the door is saying, “Ah-ah-ah! You didn't say the magic word!”

And, shoot! Rarity did hear that, for pony feather's sake!

Rarity perks her head up from her work desk. She steers her ears back to aim in my direction. She almost turns her head but stops herself after she turns her head only a bit. I barely catch the sight of her tears causing streaks in her mascara.

“Oh! Sweetie Belle. What are you doing up so late?” Rarity asks me as she attempts to regather her composure. It's actually a little eerie and awe-inspiring how much she seems to succeed with that. She turns off the waterworks so rapidly that it sounds like she never turned it on in the first place.

“Oh. I'm sorry for disturbing you. I was sleeping just a moment ago but I had a bad dream so I wanted to trot it off for a bit before trying to go back to sleep,” I explain.

“I see,” Rarity accepts with a neutral tone. As she says that, I hear magic at work somewhere in front of her but I can't see what she's doing with it.

However, a moment later, when she turns on her stool to face me, I see her mascara fully repaired and her face perfectly calm. It really does look like she's been calm all along.

“Well, if you're having trouble sleeping, how about I prepare for you a warm glass of milk? Huh? Would you like that, Sweetie Belle?” my sister offers.

“Um,” I try to decide but can't finish my thought because she resumes refining her offer.

“Maybe you can tell me all about your awful dreams. Maybe sharing it with somepony will help them go away,” Rarity reasons. “I can also sing for you if you'd like.”

How generous.

Then again, my sister is always like that. Sometimes I hate how greedy she makes me seem in comparison when I'm actually just being a normal filly.

I consider her offer for a moment before realizing what I really want to do is go out for a trot by myself. It's not that I don't appreciate having compony like Ocellus or the other Crusaders around but lately I feel starved for independence.

“Uh . . . no. I think I'll just head back to sleep,” I tell her. “I'll be fine on my own.”

“Are you sure?” my sister double-checks with me. “Because it would be no trouble at all. I'd be glad to help.”

Glad to help! Just like I should be doing instead. I hate how my situation is making everypony else around me perceive me as if I'm powerless. I know they are just trying to be kind, but it's also damaging to my self-esteem.

“Nah,” I assure with a wave of a hoof. “I'll be fine. I promise.”

“If you're sure,” my sister says with lingering worry and uncertainty, then she suddenly brightens. “Ooo! I know what will cheer you up, but we can do it tomorrow after you wake up again. What you and I should do is have our own private fashion show right here in my shop!” She waves off at me with a hoof. “I'm sure your masculine-sounding voice and body have been quite the wreck for your own private sense of identity. What I think we should do is get you all dressed up in some fancy gowns and dresses. Make you feel all bubbly again like the little lady you actually are.” She smiles at me brightly and hopefully as she asks me, “Doesn't it sound nice?”

I squint my eyes at her for a second as I privately contemplate how like her it is to suggest something like that. Of course she'd suggest a private dress fashion show to cheer me up because that is exactly what would work for her.

Sometimes it's annoying, but other times it's actually fun and I do like to help her out. Doing so occasionally inspires her with new ideas for other dresses on top of that.

Also, she's right. My personal sense of self has been wounded lately because of my recent experiences. Maybe my sister has a point. Maybe a fashion montage is just what I need to help me feel like my old self again.

Then I widen my eyes just a bit as it occurs to me that my sister might attempt to drag Button Mash into this as well. As out of place as I felt lately, I can understand how horrified he might feel from such an activity, and yet a wicked part of me can't help but look upon that possibility with a devious sense of giddiness.

Besides that, there is the fact that I've never seen my own body in a makeover session from an outside perspective before. That might even give me a few good ideas on how to improve my image even further later on. When we switch back, Button might appreciate the enhancements to my appearance based on what I've learned from this rather unique opportunity.

So, with a devious grin, I tell my sister, “Only if Button Mash also joins me.”

“Button Mash?” my sister queries while looking taken aback “Why would he be interested in this?”

“Well, ah . . . to help improve my image later on?” I suggest in what sounds like a lame excuse even to my own ears. “Plus, it's a unique opportunity for him too. He's never been a filly before and I doubt he ever will be again. This will be an opportunity to expand on his interests a little.”

“Oh that's right!” my sister exclaims as she looks in the direction of what I assume to be the Ponyville Hospital. “He's in your body right now, isn't he?”

“Yeah,” I agree with a silly grin. “Don't you think he'd look cute trying on your dresses?” I lift a hoof. “I think it will be very educational for him.”

“Perhaps,” my sister says as she looks back at me. “But he's been through a lot himself too. We could encourage this but I don't want to push him into anything he doesn't want to do. I may have to run this by his mother as well.”

“Leave that to me!” I say deviously. “Trust me, I know how to push their buttons!”

Finally my sister is starting to catch on to how exciting the idea could be.

“Well . . . I suppose I could gather some insight from the mind of a colt, even if he temporarily wears the body of a filly, and the body of my little sister at that,” my sister figures with a sly grin, but then that grin drops as she asks me in concern, “Are you sure you will be fine with it? I don't want you to feel jealous.”

“Jealous? Of myself?” I query.

“But that's just it, darling,” my sister reflects. “Right now that isn't you even though it should be. I'm just worried you'll feel . . . you know . . . displaced.”

I lift my head up straight as I finally realize the point my sister is trying to make. In the process, my expression grows a great deal more serious.

“Well, um . . . it's true that I haven't been feeling like myself lately,” I admit. “But I just want to do something fun. Something to take my mind off of this whole mess.”

“What if he is uncomfortable with this?” my sister checks. “For you, he might put on airs that he's willing to do it but I'm just scared that he'd be secretly humoring you.”

I shrug as I say, “Well, if he is, I'll make it up to him somehow. He's my special somepony, Rarity. I think it's perfectly normal to have some embarrassing moments together.” I pretend to fluff my mane that isn't actually there out of sheer habit. “I believe that, in the long gallop, it actually strengthens the bond between two ponies. He might grow red with embarrassment with this at first but, trust me, someday we'll both look back at the memory and laugh.”

Rarity gives me a half-smile as she says with partial acceptance, “I suppose you might be right. Just don't push him too hard, okay? Like I said, he must be going through a tough time right about now too.”

“Which is another reason I want to do something fun together,” I argue. “I was scared half to death, Rarity, with worry for him when he was lost in that forest.” I stomp a hoof. “I feel he owes me for that!”

“Oh, the heart of a little filly,” my sister muses whimsically as she looks elsewhere then looks back at me. “Alright. You sleep tight. I'm glad I gave you something to look forward to in the meantime. Maybe that will help with your dreams, too.”

“I sure hope it does,” I say as I touch her doorknob with a hoof. “Good night, Rarity.”

“Good night,” she bids in equal measure. “Sleep tight, little one.”

I close the door.

Author's Note

And back to slice-of-life again. Back and forth to remind the readers that each of the genre tags added still applies, but not necessarily at the same time.

This chapter is here to reveal greater depth in both Sweetie Belle and her sister. Sweetie caught his sister crying and, in the process, it reminds Sweetie that her sister continues to remain vulnerable to her sensitive emotions, even if she temporarily tries to hide them. By revealing that, I feel I've protected the integrity of the character while also playing up the drama normally associated between these two. There are layers of depth to them both and their relationship together which continues to evolve throughout the show and beyond into this fanfic.

I hope you enjoyed this simple but heartfelt chapter.