No Passion

by wishcometrue

Rating: teen
Tags: Lightning Dust, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Fiddlesticks, Drama
Length: 7836

Fiddlesticks's life had been dull for years, and she always knew what to expect. Then she met Lightning Dust.

Fiddlesticks's life had been dull for years, and she always knew what to expect. Then she met Lightning Dust.

Third Place in the FiddleDust Contest.

Thanks to mushroompone, Seer, and Undome Tinwe for editing.

Published 2022-07-27 01:00:01 UTC
Last updated 2022-07-27 01:00:01 UTC

When the Album Is Over

Regrettably, Fiddlesticks woke up that morning.

There was no reason for her to believe she wouldn’t, really, but that didn’t stop her from wishing it’d happen. It would be so simple, everything would be over and she wouldn’t even have to lift a hoof.

No one would be able to blame her.

She sighed and rolled out of bed; wasn’t much point in staying in it while her heart was still beating.

Fiddlesticks fumbled her way into the bathroom and took stock of herself in the mirror. To put it gently, she looked horrible. Her mane was a tangled mess, and the bags under her eyes were probably permanent at this point.

She roughly brushed her mane, forcing it to look like it always did, paying no mind to the dry, damaged hairs that she was destroying. As long as it looked okay, that was all that mattered.

A quick application of concealer under her eyes, and she almost looked like a normal pony. With a deep breath, Fiddlesticks put on her practiced smile, and hoped other ponies wouldn’t think it looked as fake as she did.

Leaving the bathroom, she was greeted by a hallway filled with empty rooms. Her family’s home was so quiet it was deafening, and Fiddlesticks doubted she’d ever get used to it. She walked down the stairs, and was faced with an empty kitchen. Thoughts of breakfasts past haunted her, and she had to shake the memories off before they consumed her.

Everything in this house was a reminder of how everypony else in her immediate family had moved on. There was a bitter sort of irony in the fact that she, the adopted Apple, had ended up inheriting this house, that she was the one stuck in Appleoosa despite growing up certain that she’d be the first—and perhaps only—of her siblings to move on. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. But that’s life, she supposed.

Fiddlesticks shook her head and walked to the front door. She wasn’t hungry anyways. She grabbed her violin, donned her hat, and set off into town.

Appleoosa had changed very little in all the years Fiddlesticks had lived there. The same dirt roads, the same wood facades on all the main street buildings, and the same ponies.

Well, that last part wasn’t strictly true. There were many new faces these days, some of whom she knew, many she didn’t. They all had the same attitude though. Those pitying looks for that poor Apple mare who was reduced to busking to get by. Bits thrown in her violin case not for her playing, how could they be when nopony stopped to listen? The awkward smiles as they offered the same hollow platitudes over and over again.

‘Keep your chin up.’

‘Things’ll get better.’

‘I’m rooting for you.’

It was exhausting. It made her feel sick. Sometimes she wished there was a blade at the end of her bow, and she could just slit their throats.

But there was no blade, so she shut her eyes and tuned the world out and just kept playing the same songs she always did, notes flowing out mindlessly, useless thoughts swirling in her head. Everything was always the same.

So imagine her surprise when a large gust of wind blew dust all over her.

That wasn’t supposed to happen, the streets of Appleoosa were laid out to minimize dust storms, and even the most careless carriage drivers couldn’t cause this much dust to be sprayed.

“Oh, whoops, sorry about that,” a rough, feminine voice chuckled out, sounding anything but apologetic to Fiddlestick’s ears. “Here, let me just—”

The sound of flapping wings was the only warning she got before another gust of wind struck her, sending her and the other mare into a coughing fit.

“What in the hay is wrong with you?” Fiddlesticks exclaimed.

“Hey! I got all that dust off you, why are you complaining?”

Fiddlesticks cautiously opened her eyes, but no dust irritated them like she had expected. She glanced at the other mare, a turquoise pegasus with a windswept golden mane, before taking stock of herself. She’d need to take a shower still, sure, but the majority of the dust had been cleared away. Even her hat and violin seemed to be clean (at least as much as one could expect in this situation). She sighed.

“Fair enough, it did actually work, even if it was pretty harebrained,” she begrudgingly said. She glared at the other mare and continued, “I don’t see why I should be too grateful though, considerin’ you were cleanin’ up your own mess.”

The mare rubbed the back of her neck. “Yeah, sorry about that. I keep hearing you play that thing in the distance while I’m doing weatherwork, and I just had to get a closer listen. Still getting used to the fact I can’t come in for a landing as fast as I used to without making a mess.” Unlike her previous apology, she sounded genuinely contrite this time.

“Well, apology accepted, just don’t make it a habit.” Fiddlesticks placed her violin on the ground and leaned back against the building behind her. “So, a weathermare, huh? Thought I knew everypony on the team, but I’ve never seen you around before.”

The mare grinned. “Yeah, outside of the other weatherponies and some of the shopkeepers, I don’t think anypony really knows me here yet. Still new in town and just getting used to everything, but trust me, everypony here will know who I am soon enough.”

Fiddlesticks wanted to laugh at the other mare’s cocky attitude, but there was something about the way she held herself that made Fiddlesticks believe her. “Well, if you want ponies to know you, how about you start with giving me your name?”

“Oh, right,” she said, blushing, “the name’s Lightning Dust, and you better not forget it!”

Fiddlesticks chuckled. “Doubt I’ll forget it, what with your introduction matchin’ your name so dang well.” Lightning’s blush intensified at that, but her self-assured body language still didn’t falter. “Aw, I’m just teasin’ ya. My name’s Fiddlesticks. It’s nice to meet you, Lightnin’.”

Fiddlesticks held out a hoof, and Lightning bumped it with her own. “Yeah, nice to meet you too.” She pointed at the spot next to Fiddlesticks with a wing. “Mind if I sit there?”

“Go right ahead.”

Lightning did just that, and Fiddlesticks scooted over a bit to give a little more room between them. “Thanks. I meant what I said earlier, y’know.”

Fiddlesticks smirked. “What, that everypony is gonna know who you are?”

Lightning shook her head. “Nah, not that. Well, I mean, that too, but I was talking about hearing you play. That uh…”

“Violin? Fiddle?” she supplied.

Lightning nodded. “Yeah, that. You’re really good at it, I could tell even from up in the clouds. But there’s no passion in your playing, like at all. Why is somepony as good as you just going through the motions?”

Fiddlesticks felt her heart stop for a moment. Lightning knew. This mare she had just met knew. Not only that, she actually said what nopony else around her had the guts to say. Panic gripped at her and threatened to rip her mask to shreds. So much of herself desperately wanted to run home and cry, wallow in her humiliation in peace. But something about Lightning’s lack of tact rubbed her the wrong way, so when she finally broke, she didn’t weep.

She lashed out.

“Who do you think you are, tellin’ me my playin’s got no soul? You didn’t even know what my instrument is, and you’re gonna say somethin’ like that?”

Lightning leaned back. “Woah, hey, I didn’t mean—”

Fiddlesticks glared at her and leaned forward, snarling. “I think we both know what you meant, Lightnin’ Dust.”

Lightning blinked and, like a switch had been flipped, was suddenly in Fiddlestick’s face, glaring right back at her. “Fine, you want to put words in my mouth? Then I’ll tell you what you clearly want to hear. With playing like that, you’re always gonna be stuck here in this boring little town, playing music nopony will truly appreciate, only getting money because your neighbors feel sorry for you.”

Fiddlesticks’s jaw dropped, and Lightning stood up. “I might not know music, but I sure know talent, and I know when it’s being wasted. And here, since you like the Dust part of my name so much.” With a quick flick of her wing, Fiddlesticks was once again sprayed with dust.

By the time she was done coughing and shaking herself clean, Fiddlesticks was alone again.

I Will Go to Bed Sober

It was a beautiful day, and Fiddlesticks hated it.

The sun was shining bright, and not even the brim of her hat provided any meaningful reprieve. There was a light breeze blowing through Appleoosa today, something everypony else reveled in for taking away the worst of the heat. But for Fiddlesticks, it just served as a reminder of her.

Lightning Dust.

Just the thought of the mare made Fiddlesticks’s blood boil. Part of her was thankful that she hadn’t seen her again the rest of the week, but for the most part she wished she had. Fiddlesticks had been thinking about just how she was going to tell Lightning Dust off, and she was looking forward to it more than she’d care to admit to anyone else.

But she hadn’t seen her, unfortunately. On the bright side, she’d made enough bits that she could take the day off and be alright. She planned to celebrate with a stiff drink or three from the saloon. Always a nice way to forget her troubles.

Fiddlesticks entered the saloon, looked at her favorite seat at the bar, and had ’always’ thrown out the window once again. And once again, it was due to Lightning Dust.

She stormed up to the source of her present frustrations and said, “You!” She grit her teeth as she tried to think of what to say next, but everything she’d thought of over the past week jumped to mind at once, and so none of it managed to find its way out, leaving her at a loss for words.

Lightning Dust turned to look at her, confusion quickly turning to realization. “Oh. It’s you.” She lowered her gaze. “I’m sorry,” she said, tone genuinely contrite.

Fiddlesticks blinked. “You… You’re sorry?” She had imagined this interaction so many times, and yet, in none of them did Lightning Dust apologize. Everything she’d thought to say evaporated now, leaving her lost for words once again.

“Yeah, it wasn’t cool of me to say all of that, especially not the way I said it all. I mean, we’d just met, and I ran my mouth like that?” Lightning chuckled, but there was no mirth in it. “Thought I was better than that at this point, but I guess not.”

That cocky, self-assured, arrogant mare she’d met before was gone. Before her now, Lightning looked defeated, the weight of past regrets weighing on her shoulders. Fiddlesticks had been so sure that she knew just who Lightning was, and what she was like, but this was a stranger. Her imagination had been presumptuous to assume otherwise.

She was left with two options now, at least from the way she saw things. Either she could continue like planned and tell Lightning off, really twist the dagger in her. It would be satisfying, sure, at least for a little bit. She looked at Lightning and grimaced; wouldn’t feel good for long, though.

Her other option didn’t sound very appealing, though. How could she forgive Lightning Dust just like that, after the mare had trampled on her pride? It wasn’t like her week would have been much better without that confrontation, but the point stood stubbornly in her mind.

And that’s why she knew she had to do it. So she swallowed her pride and sat next to Lightning at the bar, and gave the mare a firm pat on the back—a little firmer than need be, but not overly so.

“It’s alright, Lightnin’, we all make mistakes.”

Lightning looked up at her with a soft smile and tears shimmering in the corners of her eyes. “Thank you.”

Fiddlesticks smiled back, and for a moment, things just felt right in a way they hadn’t in a long time. Not since Fritter moved away.

But then Lightning Dust blinked and cleared her throat, and the moment was gone. That cocky grin was back, but this time it looked slightly less punchable to Fiddlesticks. Just slightly, though.

“Anyways! I didn’t really take you for the day drinking type.” Lightning took a swig of her drink to accentuate her point. “Figured that was reserved for ruffians like me.”

“Pfft, nah,” Fiddlesticks snorted. “Only thing more Appleoosan than day drinkin’ is apples, and even then we tend to combine the two.” To accentuate her own point, she flagged down the bartender. “Get me an applejack on the rocks.” A glance at a confused Lightning Dust gave her an idea. “Make that two.”

As he went off to prepare those drinks, Fiddlesticks smirked at Lightning Dust. “Also, ‘ruffian’? No offense, but that doesn’t seem like the kinda word you’d say.”

Lightning rolled her eyes. “Yeah, it wasn’t, but one time I crashed into some Canterlot lady’s house, and she went off on this whole rant even though I promised to replace her window. Don’t remember most of it, but ruffian stuck with me for some reason. Probably because it sounds funny.”

“Nah, I think you remember it because it’s so fittin’.” The two glasses of applejack were slid over to them, and Fiddlesticks held hers up. “Cheers.”

Lightning looked at her own glass warily, but picked it up as well. “Yeah, uh, cheers.”

They both took a sip, and Fiddlesticks sighed with satisfaction, while Lightning started coughing. Fiddlesticks couldn’t help herself and began to chuckle. Lightning glared at her, but that only made her laugh hard enough that she snorted.

Once she finally stopped coughing, Lightning rasped out, “You having fun over there?”

“Oh, plenty. Wasn’t expectin’ somepony like you to not be able to handle that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You just seem like the type who’d down a few shots of vodka like it was nothin’, that’s all.”

Lightning sighed and shrugged. “Yeah, maybe when I was younger, but…” She took another sip, and this time didn’t break out into a coughing fit. “Too easy to go too far with that stuff. This thing you ordered is kind of riding that line for me.”

Fiddlesticks mirth fled, and she looked at Lightning with concern. “Hey, if you aren’t comfortable drinkin’ that, you don’t have to.”

“Nah, it’s fine.” Lightning shrugged. “It’s tasty stuff, so I’m glad I’m getting a chance to try it once.”

“Still though, I’m sorry for laughin’ at you, that was mighty cruel of me.” Fiddlesticks hung her head and sighed.

“Come on, I said it was fine!” Lightning nudged her with a wing, and Fiddlesticks looked up to see that smirk that was quickly becoming all too familiar. “Besides, if our positions were reversed, I’d probably have laughed too.”

“Heh, fair enough.”

A silence settled over the two of them then, as Fiddlesticks focused on her drink, and Lightning tossed a few salty bar snacks into her mouth. It wasn’t an awkward silence, though, there was no heaviness to it. It felt like the silence between friends who were comfortable in each other’s company. Pretty ironic, Fiddlesticks mused, considering the way this day had started.

“You know, it’s funny,” Lightning said, breaking the silence. Fiddlesticks hummed in acknowledgement, and Lightning continued her thought, “I met a mare named Applejack once. Had no idea she was named after liquor though. Like, who does that? Who just names a foal after booze?”

Fiddlesticks chuckled. “Yeah, lots of ponies have wondered about that, or made jokes at AJ’s expense, but her parent’s weren’t drunks or nothin’. Story goes that her kicks were strong enough that her ma compared them to a swig of applejack, and her pa thought it’d be a fittin’ name for their strong little filly. I think it’s a sweet name, myself.” Fiddlesticks took another sip, then paused. She lowered her glass and looked at Lightning with wide eyes. “Wait, you met my cousin?”

“Ah, yeah, I guess I did.” Lightning nervously tapped a hoof against the counter. “It wasn’t under the best circumstances, though.” Her head drooped and she stared at her drink. “My fault, of course. Wish I could do things over, but…” Lightning shook herself out of the funk before Fiddlesticks could comfort her again. “Oh well, that’s life I guess.” She glanced at Fiddlesticks and smirked. “Didn’t take you for an Apple. I mean, I sure haven’t seen bushels of fiddlesticks at any market I’ve ever been to.”

It was such a stupid joke, one that didn’t even deserve a response. But that only made it funnier, and Fiddlesticks burst out laughing. “Yeah, I reckon you wouldn’t have! Don’t think that’d be the most marketable name. But yeah, I’m an Apple, just not by blood. Some ties are stronger than that, though.”

“That makes sense, I guess.” Lightning hummed. “So, where do you live?”

Fiddlesticks stared at her with wide eyes, and Lightning furrowed her brow before realization dawned on her. She waved her hooves so wildly that Fiddlesticks was surprised she didn’t fall off her stool.

“Wait, no, I didn’t mean it like that! Just like, it’s been nice talking, and the barracks for weatherponies aren’t exactly good for having visitors.”

Fiddlesticks breathed a sigh of relief and chuckled. “You really had me goin’ there for a second. My house is just outside of town, down by all the apple trees.”

Lightning nodded and opened her mouth, but a light gray pegasus burst through the saloon doors and ran up to them, cutting off whatever she was going to say. He was winded, and his mane looked like it had been struck by a hurricane. Fiddlesticks took a sip of her drink to give him a chance to catch his breath, but Lightning merely groaned.

“I know you know today’s my day off, so this better be an emergency, or I swear to Celestia…”

He nodded. “It is. Wild storm’s moving in from the east, and it’s a big one, so we need all wings on deck.” He glanced between Lightning and Fiddlesticks. “Sorry for interrupting your date.”

Fiddlesticks blushed, but Lightning simply laughed. “Thanks, but we’re just friends.” She hopped off the stool and did some quick stretches. Fiddlesticks tried not to stare, but wow Lightning Dust was in good shape. “Yeah, should be good to go. Catch you later, Fiddle!”

Lightning was about to fly out the door when Fiddlesticks’s brow furrowed as something occurred to her. “Wait!” she called, and Lightning did. “Ain’t it bad to fly drunk?”

“Oh, yeah, definitely, but…” Lightning chuckled and rubbed the back of her neck. “I’m completely sober, actually,” she said quickly, and flew out the door before Fiddlesticks could do or say anything else.

Fiddlesticks grabbed Lightning’s drink and pulled it closer; the glass was suspiciously full, and it suddenly clicked. It was ridiculous. Lightning was ridiculous. Fiddlesticks couldn’t help herself, and burst out laughing, because she was ridiculous too.

I've Got Plenty of Love

Fiddlesticks’s routine continued on as usual for the next few days, going through the same motions, just as always. Wake up, get ready, leave her empty house, play some songs, buy some food, go home, try not to dwell on things and fail miserably, drift off to uneasy sleep. It was hard to imagine a life that wasn’t like this by now.

Occasionally she would catch sight of Lightning Dust, but she was always busy doing some sort of weather work, so she never had a chance to stop by while Fiddlesticks was in town. But Lightning knew where she lived, so she figured if she wanted to talk she would show up at some point.

And one evening, Fiddlesticks heard a knock on the door. She shot up from the kitchen table and ran to the door. Try as she might to temper her excitement, she just couldn’t; sure, it could be somepony else, but when it’d been nearly a year since she’d last had a visitor, it was a safe bet it was Lightning.

She took a deep breath to collect herself, then opened the door to see the mare she’d been hoping for, but not in the state she’d been expecting. Lightning’s wings were drooping, her withers were slouched, and she was in the middle of a yawn.

“Whoa nelly, Lightnin’! You look like you’re about to pass out. Let’s get you inside, alright?”

Fiddlesticks walked to Lightning’s side and wrapped a hoof around her withers to lead her inside. Lightning muttered thanks in between yawns, and when they reached the couch, she collapsed more than sat.

“You got any coffee?”

“Sure do, Brae—” Fiddlesticks cut herself off. Her brother wasn’t here, it was Lightning Dust, who had just so happened to ask for coffee the same way Braeburn often did. She shook her head and continued, tone more subdued, “Yeah, I’ve got coffee. I’ll go make a pot right now.”

A few minutes later, Fiddlesticks brought out a tray with a mug, some cream and sugar, and most importantly, a fresh pot of coffee. Lightning groaned and stretched as she sat up, her joints cracking and popping as if she was stepping on bubble wrap. She grabbed the pot with a wing and poured coffee up to the brim of the mug.

“Wasn’t sure how you liked it, so… uh…”

Fiddlesticks brain shut off as she watched Lightning chug her coffee. The coffee that was still steaming hot, and probably bitter as all heck since she couldn’t afford the good stuff.

None of that seemed to bother Lightning, though, who merely looked satisfied and alert. “Wow, I needed that. Thanks.”

“You’re, uh, you’re welcome,” Fiddlesticks said, her mind further befuddled after seeing the instantaneous change in Lightning’s energy level.

Lightning jumped up and walked around the room, either not noticing Fiddlesticks’s shock, or simply not caring. Fiddlesticks watched as Lightning poked the creaky floorboards with a hoof, inspected the various knick knacks lying around, and whistled as she looked out the window at the rows of apple trees.

“Nice place you’ve got here. A lot bigger than anything I’ve had in a long time, and I’ve sure never had a yard that big.”

There was no jealousy or bitterness in her tone, which Fiddlesticks was thankful for. She wasn’t sure what she would have done if her house, which felt more like an obligation than anything else, had cost her a friendship.

“Yeah, this place didn’t seem so big back when it wasn’t just me here. And that ain’t a yard, either, that’s all farm. Yard’s in front.”

Lightning nodded, and continued her self-guided tour of the living room. She paused when she reached a shelf full of pictures. One of her wings wrapped around a frame and gently pulled it closer. She studied it for a moment, then held it up for Fiddlesticks to see. Not that she needed to, really, from the frame alone she knew exactly which picture it was.

“Is this your family?”

“Sure is. Me, my ma and pa, and my brother and sister too.” Fiddlesticks walked to Lightning’s side, and actually looked at the picture for the first time in ages. Everyone in it was smiling and posed neatly for the picture. Unbidden, a memory bubbled up of her and her siblings immediately jumping on each other and messing around after the picture was taken. It didn’t make her smile, though. It felt like a vision of a past life. “Been a long time since we were all together like this.”

“Really? Thought the Apple family was big on reunions and sticking together or whatever.”

“We’re supposed to be, yeah. I haven’t gone to a reunion in a while, though. Pa died quite a while back, Apple Fritter is too busy datin’ a princess down in Ponyville to ever come around anymore, and Braeburn…” Fiddlesticks scowled and snorted. “He and I haven’t exactly been on good terms ever since Ma died. If I can’t even see him in the town he’s mayor in, I sure as hay ain’t gonna see him at a darn reunion.”

Lightning put the picture back on the shelf, then awkwardly wrapped her wing around Fiddlesticks’s withers. “Woah, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up something uncomfortable. Are you alright?”

Fiddlesticks pulled out that trusty hollow smile and wore it once again. “It’s okay, I’m fine.” It wasn’t, and neither was she. “You didn’t know.” At least that was true.

Lightning rubbed the back of her neck. “If it’s any consolation, my family’s pretty messed up too. So I mean, I get it.”

It wasn’t any consolation, but Lightning was trying, and she did feel a little less alone in her experience, which meant more to her than Lightning probably realized. Fiddlesticks’s smile felt a little bit more genuine, and she leaned against Lightning’s side.

Her gaze traced the pictures on the shelf, and one in particular caught her eye. She picked it up and cradled it as she brought it closer. In it, she and her siblings were playing at a Las Pegasus water park, all smiles and laughter, full of that sheer joy only foals could have. Their parents had saved up for months to treat them to that, and it had felt like anything and everything was possible for her. Fiddlesticks sniffled.

“Do you—Do you ever want to go back? To just, do it all over again?”

Lightning shrugged. “I mean, I think everypony has at some point. It’d be nice if it was possible, but we can still get second chances and make things right, even without any time travel or whatever.”

“But I don’t just mean second chances!” Fiddlesticks couldn’t keep the desperation out of her voice if she tried, and she didn’t. “It’s—That feelin’, in the summertime when school gets out and it feels like you can do whatever you want, that there’s still some hope left out there for you, that feelin’, don’t you ever want to feel that again?” she pleaded, her voice cracking as she teetered over a precipice that was ready to give way.

She expected to fall, to weep pathetically on the floor until she could weep no more, feeling more empty and broken and alone than she had before. It’s what always happened when she gave herself over to her thoughts, when she didn’t push them down and bury them.

But then Lightning Dust caught her, and she was carried away to safety. She still cried, sure, but now it was into warm, turquoise fur and a comforting embrace, rather than cold, brown wood and desolate air. This time, when she’d cried herself out, she didn’t feel so empty or broken, just a little embarrassed.

Fiddlesticks pushed away from Lightning Dust with a sheepish smile and blush. “Thanks, and uh, sorry.” She fully expected Lightning to pull away from her now, but she still kept that one wing around her side, which Fiddlesticks was very grateful for.

“Don’t sweat it. You’re my friend, right? I’ve got your back.” Lightning grinned at her, and Fiddlesticks’s heart felt warmer than it had in ages.

They sat there for a few minutes, just quietly enjoying each other’s presence. Motes of dust floated through the air, illuminated by lamplight into little stars and swirling into galaxies. They were almost as pretty as the mare sitting next to her.

All good moments must end eventually, though, and It wasn’t long before Fiddlesticks realized something. “Wait just a second, you didn’t answer my question yet.”

Her only response was a snore. She looked at Lightning Dust, and to her utter astonishment, the mare had genuinely fallen asleep. Fiddlesticks shook the mare in the hopes of waking her, but to no avail. Fiddlesticks took a deep breath; she hated to do it, but it was time to pull out the big guns.

“Lightnin’ Dust! Wake up!” she shouted, hoping it’d be as effective as when Ma had done it.

Lightning shot into the air and saluted. “Lightning Dust reporting for duty, Spitfire, ma’am!” Her words were slightly slurred, and her eyes weren’t even open yet. She slowly blinked, and blankly looked around. Once it sank in that she wasn’t where she thought she was, she landed and yawned. “Sorry about that, I didn’t think I was that tired.”

“I’m surprised you were tired at all, after that coffee you drank earlier. I’d have been up for hours.”

Lightning tilted her head. “Wait, you mean you don’t just get a brief boost from it?”

“Nooope.” Fiddlesticks stood up and stretched. “So, who’s Spitfire? That your boss with the weather team?”

Lightning shook her head. “No, she’s a W—uh, no, she’s not.” Lightning yawned and shuffled towards the door. “It was nice hanging out, but I really should get back to my bunk before I fall asleep on you again.”

Fiddlesticks felt panic bubbling up again. It had felt so nice to not be the only pony in this house, she wasn’t ready to be alone again. She reached out and grabbed Lightning. “Wait!” And, to her surprise, Lightning did just that. She scrambled for something to say, and soon words came spilling out. “You, uh, you probably shouldn’t fly right now, and it’s an awful long walk too I’m sure, and I mean, there’s plenty of rooms here, so you should just stay the night,” she stammered out.

Lightning thought about it for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, your couch was pretty comfy, so why not?” She flew to the couch and flopped onto it.

“Wait, there’s plenty of empty bedrooms, and—” Lightning was already asleep. Fiddlesticks chuckled and shook her head in disbelief. With nothing left to do now, she grabbed the old quilt that hung over the back of the couch and pulled it so it lay over Lightning Dust, and then trotted up to her bed to get some shuteye of her own.

Things continued in much the same fashion over the next several weeks, with Fiddlesticks’s boring old routine going on and on like usual. It was still as soul crushing as always, but at least now there was a bright spot in her life, something to look forward to.

And although she expected Lightning Dust’s disruptions to her routine now, there was still no rhyme or reason to them. She’d drift down from the clouds while Fiddlesticks was playing on any day and at any time. She’d show up at Fiddlesticks’s house and sleep on her couch whenever she felt like it.

There was a freedom to the way Lightning lived her life that Fiddlesticks envied, and she was telling the pegasus as such that morning.

Lightning hummed. “See, I’ve kinda been thinking about that. Or, like, something that ties into that I guess,” she said around mouthfuls of scrambled eggs, to Fiddlesticks unending displeasure.

Fiddlesticks took a sip of her coffee. “So you’ve been thinkin’ of how jealous I am of you, huh?”

“That’s not what I said! I—” Lightning rolled her eyes as Fiddlesticks burst out laughing. “Yeah, haha, real funny. Now come on, let’s go outside.”

“What, right now?” Fiddlesticks’s brow furrowed. “But I haven’t even finished my coffee.”

Lightning groaned. “Yes, right now. Come on, have I ever led you astray?” Before Fiddlesticks could respond, she added, “Besides that time with the cactus.”

Sighing, Fiddlesticks stood up. “Alright, why the hay not.” She cast one last forlorn look at her coffee before following Lightning out the door.

The sun was just breaking above the horizon now, casting the desert landscape in gold, and turning the clouds ruby as adornment. It had been years since Fiddlesticks had gone out this early, and she marveled at the sight of it.

She whistled and said, “Alright, I’m thinkin’ it was worth it to come out here.”

Lightning snorted and ruined the atmosphere. “What, you think this is why I pulled you out here? No way.” She lowered herself and braced her legs. “Hop on my back, then you’ll see.”

Fiddlesticks regarded the smaller mare warily. “Uh… You sure that’s a good idea? I don’t want to hurt you or anythin’.”

Lightning scoffed. “Come on, I’m tougher than I look, and I’m a pegasus. Once we’re flying, I’ll barely even notice your weight.”

“Well, I guess so…” Fiddlesticks climbed onto Lightning’s back, and, true to her word, the pegasus barely reacted to the added weight. Lightning began flapping, and soon enough they were in the air, and Lightning’s words fully caught up with Fiddlesticks. “Wait, what was that you said about flyin’?”

Lightning laughed. “Hold on tight!” was her only reply.

Fiddlesticks did, and not even a second later they were off, rocketing through the air at speeds Fiddlesticks had never even dreamed of. The world passed below them in a blur, any distinct features being seemingly erased. Before she could even fully comprehend that, they burst through the clouds, like diving into the most vast ocean that could ever exist.

Lightning took them through intense twists and turns, and Fiddlesticks felt like her organs were being rearranged, but she didn’t care. She whooped with every trick and cheered every time Lightning brought them through a cloud.

Soon they were climbing, and things seemed to slow down some. Not enough for Fiddlesticks to truly catch her breath, but enough that she was left to wonder what would happen next. Maybe Lightning would dive down as fast as she could, show off her best speed. Maybe she’d do the same tricks as before, but this time with some extra velocity behind them.

And then they were upside down, and Fiddlesticks realized Lightning was bringing them through a huge loop. Later, she would think about the skill necessary to pull off a loop like that. Later, she would think about the skill necessary to do any of what Lightning had done this morning, even without the added weight she brought. But now?

Now, in the moment, time seemed to stop. Her body felt weightless, like she was just floating in space without a care in the world. Fiddlesticks’s breath caught in her chest as she took in the world around them. It was so beautiful, so serene, and every last bit of it was within her reach.

After what felt simultaneously like a second and an eternity, the loop was over, and they were rocketing back to the ground. Lightning did a few more maneuvers to bleed off speed, and then they landed.

Fiddlesticks rolled off of Lightning’s back, and just lay on the dirt for a moment, trying to comprehend everything that had just happened.

“That was—”

“Amazing? Incredible? Awesome?”

“—like nothin’ I’ve ever experienced before! I mean, you made all that seem so easy, and I swear to Celestia I could feel in my bones how much of a natural you were! Everythin’ just made sense, even though I’ve never flown before.” Fiddlesticks grinned. “So, how’d you do it?”

Lightning shrugged nonchalantly, but she didn’t even try to hide her grin. “Eh, it was nothing, really. Flying is what I’m passionate about, so I just put all of myself into it. Doesn’t matter where I am or what I’m doing with my life, as long as I can fly.”

Fiddlesticks tensed at that response, and regarded Lightning coolly. “That’s what this was about, then,” she hissed.

“Wh—what do you mean?” Lightning asked, shrinking some under Fiddlesticks’s rage.

“All this time, I thought you were my friend, but you were just settin’ everythin’ up to attack my playin’ again. I can’t believe you, Lightnin’!”

Lightning blinked. “Wait, you think—Fiddlesticks, you are my friend! But I’m worried about you, I know I’m not good at talking or anything but I can tell you’re like, not doing great? Which I get, because I’ve been there, I know how awful it is, and all I want to do is help. I know I messed up badly when I put my hoof in my mouth when we first met, so I thought, I don’t know, showing you this would spark something for you? I’m not trying to make you feel worse, I don’t want that, I—”

Fiddlesticks laughed. It was a sickening, bitter, twisted thing that seemed to suck the joy out of the air that produced it. “You talked your way out of this before, but I’m done listenin’ to your horseapples, Lightnin’.”

Lightning’s eyes were wide, and she looked to be on the verge of tears. “But—I’m just trying to—”

“Save it. Go bother somepony else, because I don’t want nothin’ to do with you no more.”

The desert air was still, and silence reigned around them, weighing down oppressively. Lightning closed her eyes and sniffled.

“If that’s what you want—”

“It is.”

“—then you’ll never see me again.”

With a flap of her wings, Lightning shot off into the sky, and Fiddlesticks sat there alone on her porch. She swallowed, and then walked into a house that felt emptier than ever.

And Something to Show for It

The week after the fight was one of the hardest weeks Fiddlesticks had ever faced.

It hardly seemed fair to call it a fight, with the cruel gift of hindsight. Lightning hadn’t instigated anything, she hadn’t done anything but try to defuse things. Fiddlesticks was the one who’d blown up, who’d refused to listen to Lightning, or to reason, or…

Well, to herself.

If her little meltdown there had accomplished anything beyond ruining her only remaining friendship, it had at least forced upon her some perspective.

Truth of it all was, Fiddlesticks had been running away for a long, long time. Was easy to pretend otherwise, since she was stuck in the same house, same town, same routine, day after day, month after month, year after year. But every last bit of it was her running away from her fears, her anxieties, and herself.

She wanted to make it up to Lightning—no, she needed to. But Lightning wasn’t the first pony she needed to make things right with, for she had wronged somepony else first.

And that’s how Fiddlesticks found herself standing outside of the door for Braeburn’s office, one hoof raised, ready to knock. She took a deep breath, and did just that.

“Door’s open, you can come right on in!”

Fiddlesticks teared up a little at the sound of her brother’s voice. It had been so long, but he still sounded unmistakably undeniably him. She blinked before any tears could fall, and opened the door.

“Hey, Brae.”

Braeburn’s quill abruptly stopped its motion as he froze. Slowly he looked up, eyes wide when they confirmed that his sister really was standing there before him.

“Fiddle… I…” He shook his head and smiled that wide, goofy smile of his. “Don’t just stand there, sis, grab a seat.”

Fiddlesticks walked into the office, taking it in for the first time. Papers were piled on his desk, some in neat stacks, others in messy arrangements that one could call stacks if they were willing to use the term loosely. There was a dirty rug covering most of the floor, which was probably the source of the musty smell in the room. At least it was soft.

She sat down in one of the chairs and opened her mouth, but no words came out. She’d rehearsed this in the mirror at least ten times before showing up here, but actually being here and seeing her brother in the flesh turned all those rehearsed words to ash, leaving nothing but a bitter taste on her tongue. He deserved better than that.

With how long she spent hesitating, it was no surprise that Braeburn broke the silence. Stallion never could handle quiet when other ponies were around.

“It’s really good to see you again,” he said, voice cracking a little. He wiped his eyes, and Fiddlesticks felt herself tearing up again.

“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed. “I’m so sorry, Brae, you didn’t do anythin’ wrong, movin’ out after Ma died. Wasn’t fair of me to treat you the way I did.”

“H-hey, hey now,” he stammered. “I probably could’ve timed things better, and it ain’t like you were the only one who got angry in that fight.”

“No, don’t try to take the blame. I was the stubborn fool that was too scared to face facts. Nopony forced me to stay there, I was the one who couldn’t move on. I was the one who blamed everypony else.” Fiddlesticks swallowed. “Some Apple I am, huh?”

Braeburn leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. “I ain’t exactly been an ideal Apple myself, Fiddle. Coulda reached out, but I never did.” He chuckled, an undercurrent of sadness running through it. “But you’re here now. Can’t change the past, but we can always change the future.”

Fiddlesticks chuckled herself. “I’ve been thinkin’ the same thing lately. Somethin’ similar, at least.”

“You have, huh?” Braeburn hummed and studied her for a moment. “Yeah, I recognize that look. Somethin’s troublin’ you, so you want some advice from your big brother.”

Fiddlesticks nervously glanced away. “Yeah, you got me. Sorry, this is supposed to be about us, and I just—”

“None of that now, I’m always happy to help you out. Tell me what’s up.”

And so she did, explaining how she’d met Lightning Dust, how they’d become friends, and how she’d ruined things. Braeburn nodded along, listening intently to everything she had to say, only ever interrupting her for clarification.

“So, yeah. This mare is special, and I messed things up bad with her,” she finished. “What should I do, Brae?”

“You know, when you told me how you two first met, I thought you wanted to prove this mare wrong. But that ain’t it, is it? You want to prove her right. You want to show her you’re capable of everythin’ she thinks you are and then some, huh?”

Fiddlesticks nodded. “How am I gonna do that, though? I told her to leave me alone, and she has. How can I make her hear what I play?”

Braeburn chuckled. “Sis, given everythin’ you’ve said about this mare, there’s no way she won’t hear you playin’.” Fiddlesticks looked at him skeptically, and Braeburn just smirked. “Trust me on this one. Just get out there and play your heart out; she’ll be there.”

Fiddlesticks didn’t feel the same confidence, but she could cling onto Braeburn’s as the push to get her to finally do it. “Thanks, for everythin’.” She got up and hugged him, an act which he quickly reciprocated.

“It’s the least I could do. Now get out there and wow this mare!”

Fiddlestick’s giggled and walked to the door. She opened it, but paused in the doorway.

“How come you never did reach out?” she asked.

“I knew you’d reach out when you were ready. I always had faith in you, sis.”

Fiddlesticks smiled and wiped away her tears.

“Thank you.”

And with that, she left to prepare for her next apology.

That evening found Fiddlesticks sitting on her usual street, gently pulling her violin out of its case. She thanked it quietly for its unending support as she got her act together. She placed it under her chin, brought her bow to the strings, and took a deep breath.

And then she played. Really played, for the first time in ages. Her mind was solely focused on the music, the way it flowed through her soul and out through the instrument, the same way Lightning’s soul flowed through her wings.

The sadness and loneliness she had felt for years hung in the air, layering and cascading over and over again. A glance upwards showed that Braeburn had been right, as Lightning Dust was peeking over a cloud with the subtlety of drunk yak, eyes wide as she watched Fiddlesticks play.

Fiddlesticks closed her eyes and smiled; her playing grew in intensity now that she was certain her desired audience was in attendance. Rage pierced through the layers of sadness that still clung to the air. It did nothing to clear it away, however, and merely added a new layer of misery.

Soon enough, she felt light wind currents flow around her. She smiled, since she knew that meant Lightning was now standing right in front of her. Her playing reached a fever pitch as she drove to the conclusion, filling the air with all of her feelings about Lightning Dust. Happiness, annoyance, and everything in between, but one emotion shined through above everything else:

Love.

The lingering misery was cleared away, and finally the conclusion was reached. Tears were falling down Fiddlestick’s face now, but she smiled wider than ever, even more than when she was a foal.

She put her violin down, and opened her eyes. Lightning was staring at her, tears of her own flowing freely, and a wide smile gracing her face as well.

“So, what’d you think?” Fiddlesticks asked.

Lightning rushed forward and hugged her. “That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard. I don’t… I don’t even know what to say. I’m so proud of you, I—”

Fiddlesticks cut her off with a kiss. It was just a light one, but it felt like fireworks were exploding in her head. She pulled away, and giggled as Lightning tried to lean forward for another kiss. She held the other mare back with a hoof.

“Hey, if you want more than that, you better buy me dinner first.”

Lightning blinked for a minute, as if breaking free from a trance. “Right, yeah, dinner. Uh, meet me… here, I guess? Tomorrow. At six. I’ll uh, I’ll have something figured out by then. Definitely.”

Fiddlesticks giggled again. “It’s a date.”

Lightning mouthed those words, and grinned goofily. “Awesome. Yeah, I’ll uh, see you then.” She stood up and stumbled away before seeming to remember she had wings, and shooting off the rest of the way to her accommodations.

Fiddlesticks laughed at Lightning’s goofiness, but she couldn’t exactly blame her. She probably looked ridiculous herself, skipping home like a lovesick filly the way she did.

Once there, she ran up the stairs to her room and threw herself on the bed, kicking her hindlegs in delight. For the first time in a long time, things were looking bright. There was hope in her future again, and she was looking forward to facing the next day as she fell asleep.

And, thankfully, Fiddlesticks woke up that morning.