TCB: The Red Shoes

Chapters

She moves like the diva
I want to dance
Take off my red shoes
Your dream will come true
This curve is your smile
This cross is your heart
The way you always thought it would be
You've got to dance
And this line is your path

She moves like the diva

She stumbled on the step down from the maglev transport. It was hard to keep her footing, such as it was, but she managed. None of the passengers even looked in her direction. A couple of people waiting at the transtop glanced over at her, then shoved past to climb aboard. No one even asked if she was okay. Nobody cared. Not that she would have expected such consideration. Everyone was too busy looking out for their own interests to bother with anyone else's concerns. She couldn't blame them, and she wasn't bitter about it. Really she wasn't. She didn't want any help anyway.

She made it to the cracked and broken sidewalk on her mismatched crutches. Her left leg would bear most of her slight weight, but the right one had healed crooked and was several inches shorter. She couldn't properly bend that knee anymore, and the ankle had healed so askew the foot was practically clubbed.

Clunk, clunk, hop with her left foot. Clunk, clunk, hop. The left crutch didn't have padding, and there were blisters under her arm, but it was still better than crawling. Barely.

Clunk, clunk, hop. Clunk, clunk, hop.

Neither crutch had a rubber tip, and when the right one suddenly skidded to one side she nearly fell sprawling to the sidewalk. She barely managed to keep her balance, balance well-honed from years of diligent practice. She almost dropped the crutch, but she kept hold of the hand grip and reseated it under her right arm. She stood still a moment, making sure she was stable and as sure on her feet (well, her foot) as she ever got these days, then steeled herself against the pain she knew would recommence and started off again.

Clunk, clunk, hop. Clunk, clunk, hop.

Her destination rose up before her, a pre-Collapse structure not quite tall enough to qualify as a skyscraper. Many of the dirty windows were cracked, some were broken, yet it was still the most intact structure for blocks.

She paused to catch her breath and raised her head up to read the tall white letters, clean and intact and newly placed.

SAN FRANCISCO CONVERSION BUREAU

Setting her jaw, she got going again. After all, the mountain was definitely not going to come to Mohammed no matter how much it hurt the legendary Prophet to move.

Clunk, clunk, hop. Clunk, clunk, hop.

The door opened inward, thankfully, so she didn't have to wait for someone to open it. She might have had to wait until dark.

There was nowhere to sit in the large waiting area. No big surprise there. With a global population of nineteen billion plus, accommodating members of the general public was not a high priority. Or any priority at all, really.

She balanced as best she could on her crutches; the floor had obviously been freshly retiled, and the linoleum had much less traction than the sidewalk.

When her left crutch slipped while bearing her full weight, she pitched off-balance too quickly to compensate. There was a moment–that awful split second right before gravity takes over and pulls an unbalanced body down–when she inwardly cursed herself for being a stupid, useless, clumsy–

Hands caught her, steadied her. "You okay?"

Startled, she glanced at the elderly man and the plump matron who had prevented her fall. The woman picked up the fallen crutch and placed it back in her hand. She said again, "You okay, honey?"

"I–y-yes, thank you." She looked at both of them. "Thank you so much." She even managed to sound like she meant it. Maybe some part of her did.

"I think we're all going to Clinic 42," the old man said. "Could you use a little help getting there? They got chairs to sit in."

"I don't want to trouble you…" Her cheeks were flaming as she struggled to get her crutches straight–only to have them both slip and clatter to the floor. The gentleman caught her as she fell again, and the woman rescued the crutches.

"Allow me, baby girl." The old man scooped her up in his arms and headed with a steady stride towards the stairway. The woman followed after, carrying the crutches.

Her eyes stung with tears and she tried hard to blink them back. Tears of shame, of frustration, of hopeless gratitude. "I'm sorry–i really don't mean to be such a bother–"

"Bother?" The man chuckled with good humor. "No bother a'tall, sugar. You ain't no bigger'n a minute."

"We were going this way anyhow," the woman added with a smile.

When they reached the fourth floor, the woman held the door as the man carried her inside. There were some curious stares, and she felt her cheeks flush, but still she said nothing. The old man quickly settled her down at one of the applicant tables, and the woman carefully leaned her crutches beside her, giving her shoulder a reassuring pat as the two of them left her sitting there.

She looked after them, but the crowd quickly swallowed them up. No names had been exchanged. Part of her wanted to call them back, to thank them again for their help, to get to know such nice people. But another part of her, the louder part of her, resented the fact that she'd needed help, the help of common favela dwellers she wouldn't have deigned even to notice a few months ago. She started filling out the application, wiping at her wet face to erase the lingering evidence of the encounter.

***

"Comminuted fracture of both fibulas, diagonal fracture of the left tibia, comminuted compound fracture of the right tibia, segmented compression fracture of both patellas, spiral displaced malleolar fracture of the right …" The doctor looked at her over the rims of her glasses. "Wow, Ana, somebody fucked you up."

"Yeah, I was there." Anastasia Walova (born Analethia Washington) gave Roselyn Pastern a lopsided grin. "A couple of bullyboys with lead pipes will do that."

She waited for Pastern to ask why she'd been attacked, but the query never came. The doctor set her electronic clipboard down. "These injuries were never set properly. Did you even try to go to a hospital?"

"I didn't have much choice on where to go. I'm not even sure who took me to the clinic. I was too busy screaming my guts out to notice." The two goons must have had explicit orders not to let her die. Maybe they even had instructions to take her to the crappiest clinic in San Francisco, knowing she wouldn't get adequate treatment there.

Pastern's lips were a hard, narrow line. Her hands fisted on her knees. "Well, whoever treated you–and I use that term very loosely–didn't know fuck-all what they were doing." She reached out a gloved hand and stroked her fingers down the lumpy, misshapen thing that used to be her patient's right leg. Ana cringed, not because it hurt–it only hurt when she was trying to walk–but because a third person was touching her today, when she hadn't felt another's hand on her since she'd left the hospital a month ago. Certainly not on her ruined legs. "Needless to say, all this will be fixed during Conversion."

"I know. That's why I came here." Ana saw no reason to lie. "Well, that and the fact that I have nowhere else to go."

""Mm." Pastern was paging through what must be Ana's medical history. "It doesn't look like the clinicians did their due diligence in your treatment." She gestured at Ana's legs. "This is gross incompetence. If the whole damn world weren't coming to an end…well, I have a few strings I could pull. We could have those incompetent quacks locked up for life, and get your legs fixed by someone who knows what they're doing." The doctor shook her head. "But there isn't much point now. In a few years, none of us will be here."

Ana forced herself to look at the broken sticks that once thrilled audiences. ""Doctor…even if there were time…even if they fix my legs so I can walk…it still wouldn't be enough. I would never be able to go back to the stage."

"Stage? Oh, yes, of course, you're a dancer."

"I was the prima ballerina for the Barishnikov troupe. I started dancing at the age of three and for the last seventeen years I've fought and clawed and pirouetted my way from the corps all the way to the top. I've never done anything else, and I wouldn't know how. Dancing…dancing is all I know. It isn't what I do. It's who I am.""

"I've heard that there is dancing in Equestria…" Pastern looked thoughtful. "I'm not sure that ballet is a thing, but–"

"Listen, Doctor." Ana sat up, swinging her legs off the table, trying not to wince as her ruined muscles and tendons protested. "Equestria is a chance at a new life for me. I don't want to die with this planet. I'll learn what I have to when I become a pony. If I'm an Earth pony, I'll join a farm and grow things. If I'm a unicorn, I'll learn how to do magic. If I'm a pegasus, I'll fly and make weather. And I'll still dance, with all four legs." Her dark eyes flashed with some of her old spirit, the spirit Camille's bastards had tried to beat out of her. "Who knows? Maybe I'll introduce Equestria to pliés and pirouettes."

Pastern smiled at her. "Somehow, Anastasia, I just bet you will."

There was a knock at the door. "Doc? It's Beth."

Pastern gave Ana her clothes so she could dress. "What do you want?"

"Well, to come in, duh." It was the receptionist from the front desk. Ana struggled into her blouse and pulled on her skirt as quickly as she could.

Pastern quirked an eyebrow. "What's the password?"

"Uhm..haycakes?"

"Try again."

"Fescue fritters!"

"That was last week's. One more chance."

"Bitch!"

"Ding! We have a winner!" Pastern winked at Ana, who was now more or less fully clothed, and went to open the door. "Hey, Beth, where'd you get that from? I just asked for a decent pair of crutches."

Beth came in pushing a somewhat antiquated but perfectly serviceable wheelchair. "Well, I asked that new guy, the one who's so good at requisitions. The tall Flemish blond?"

"Actually he's a tall Finnish blond, if you're talking about Alexi."

"Whatever. Anyway, I asked if he could find some crutches for our new arrival, and he said he thought he could do better. Next thing I know, he's riding this thing down the hall at full tilt, singing some old-ass song at the top of his lungs about some guy called Elmo being on fire, or something." Beth shrugged and set the brakes on the wheels. "Anyway, this should be easier to work than a pair of sticks with handles."

"Right. And since it's only until your Conversion, Ana…can you deal with this?"

Ana stared at the chair, marveling quietly at how a bunch of strangers had done so much more for her in less than one day than anyone had ever done for her in…well, ever…and without expecting anything from her in return.

A wheelchair was a luxury she hadn't been able to afford. It was a miracle. Using that meant it wouldn't hurt to move around anymore. She wouldn't have to worry about falling and having to reclaim her crutches and crawl to something she could use to pull herself up while trying not to scream as her legs became twisted sticks of agony…or bear the intense humiliation of someone having to pick her up.

Except…"Thank you so much, but I don't…I don't know how to use that."

"No problem. There's no motor, it's easy. Come on, sit down and I'll show you the way Alexi showed me." Beth helped Ana to the chair and demonstrated the function of the wheel lock. "When you unlock the brakes, you just push the wheels with your hands. With practice you can turn and back up with no trouble. Your arms might be a little sore if you overdo it at first, so take it easy till you get used to it."

"Thanks, Beth. Tell Alexi he earned his Pony Scout badge today." Pastern stripped off her gloves and tossed them and Ana's discarded paper gown into the incinerator bin. "Do you have Ana's room assignment yet?"

Beth stepped behind the chair and held the handles to steady it as Ana made herself comfortable. "Well, she could have her pick of rooms if she wants to bunk by herself."

"I'm fine with that," Ana said quickly. She was sort of tired of being fussed over and was hoping for some quiet time. She also needed to use the bathroom.

But Pastern shook her head. "No can do. Regulations state that an applicant with special needs has to be paired with someone able-bodied. Them's the rules."

Beth bit her lip. "Mm…well, Lilac doesn't have a roomie at the moment. I'm sure she'd be glad to accommodate us."

"Great, that's great!" Ana didn't want any more debate. She really, truly had to pee, and she could easily ditch this mysterious roomie at a later date. She didn't need anyone "able-bodied". She'd been taking care of her own crippled ass for weeks. But she was really tired of having decisions made for her. They meant well, she realized that, but dammit, enough was enough.

Pastern glanced at the wall chronometer. "Okay, I have to see the next applicant. Go get settled, Ana, and if you need anything–"

"Thank you, Doctor!" And Ana was grateful, but she was also within one unclench of having an accident. She tried to navigate the chair towards the door and rammed into the table with a rattle.

"Let me show you to your room, Ana." Beth took hold of the handles and steered her out the door. Ana took her hands off the wheels and held onto the armrests, her teeth gritted. More unasked-for help. This was embarrassing. She'd have to learn how to drive this thing quick. Damned if she'd let herself be pushed around like a baby in a carriage.

She thought of asking Beth to stop by a toilet on the way, but thought better of it. Beth would probably offer to help her maneuver out of the chair, and in truth she'd probably need it. If she was going to fall and piss all over herself, she'd rather do it in private. She'd just have to make this Lilac whoever understand that she didn't need anyone's help.

***

Author's Note

Ana is embittered and in a lot of pain. But she doesn't want your pity.

I really like the staff of Clinic 042. Thanks to my sis Chatoyance for letting me have them over for a visit.

(Spoilers below for Chatoyance's stories, particularly Recombinant 63:

In case you couldn't tell, Doc Pastern is furious about the woefully inadequate treatment received by Ana. She wants so desperately to make it right.

There are many things in her past that she can't put right, so she wants to rectify every mistake and mistreatment that she can.

She's not being controlling or manipulative. To steal a concept from the MCU's Black Widow, she's trying to get rid of some of the red in her ledger.

I want to dance

Thankfully, the room was empty when Beth left Ana, murmuring something about tracking Lilac down. The showers in the residential section were communal, but bless God there was a toilet en suite. It was a bit of a struggle to get the door open while trying to steer the chair, but she managed. She even successfully transferred herself from the chair to the toilet with no trouble. She didn't try to shut the door–the chair was blocking it, and if she'd taken the time to push it shut she wouldn't have made it. She'd just have to be quick.

Ahh, sweet relief!

The trouble came when she got up onto her only functional leg. She held onto the edge of the sink and hopped towards the chair. She reached it all right, but when she grabbed the armrest and put her weight on it, it rolled away from her and she fell flat on her face. She screamed as her knees banged the floor, and the chair rolled out into the room. She'd forgotten to lock the damn wheels!

Ana lay cursing on the floor, heaping verbal abuse on herself for being an idiot, the bullyboys for shattering her legs, the Finnish blond she couldn't have picked out of a crowd of two for not getting her a pair of crutches that she knew how to handle–

"Hi, you're Ana, right?"

Her tirade cut short, Ana stared at the lavender pony peeking around the door at her. "Who the fuck are you?"

The pony flinched a bit, then shook her head like she was shooing a fly. "I'm Lilac. I'd ask if you were okay, but I can tell you're not. You must be in a lot of pain to go off like that."

"Nothing new." Ana tried to drag herself forward but couldn't get any traction on the tiled floor.

"I can go get some help–"

"No!" The pony–Lilac–winced at the sharp denial, and Ana reined herself in. The last thing she wanted to deal with was a sobbing equine. "I've had so much help crammed down my throat today that I'm sick of it. Just–just get out of my way and let me get to that god-damned chair."

Lilac stepped forward. Her eyes were huge and a brilliant blue. She lowered her head to Ana's eye level and spoke very gently. "Take hold of my neck, Ana. I think I can get you over to the chair, then I'll keep it still till you get back in. I won't do anything else for you, I promise. Okay?"

Ana wanted to tell her to fuck off, but she had a feeling it wouldn't deter the pony from her helpful aspirations. Either she'd help Ana or she'd go fetch someone who could. She wouldn't–couldn't–just leave someone sprawled helpless on the cold floor. No pony could. Easier just to let her do her good deed for the day. "Fine," Ana grumbled, wrapping her arms around the long neck.

Small though she was, Lilac was surprisingly strong, and very steady on her hooves. In no time Ana was standing upright on her good leg, and with Lilac's support she hobbled over to the treacherous wheelchair. Lilac gripped an armrest with her teeth and held it firm as Ana collapsed into it. Then she let go and stepped away, letting Ana see to herself as she'd promised. She watched as Ana righted her throbbing legs, found the wheel locks, and set them so she wouldn't go off in a random direction. But the pastel pony didn't fuss over her; she waited patiently to see if there was anything wanted from her, but she made no suggestions and no offers of aid.

Ana sat back at last, rubbing tiredly at her brow. "Thanks," she made herself say. It was only polite. "I'm not used to being in one of these things." Why was she making explanations to this…pony? Anastasia had never felt the need to justify her actions. But those impossibly blue eyes held neither judgment nor pity, just friendliness and gentle concern.

Lilac nodded. "That kind of puts us in the same harness. I'm not used to being in one of these things either." She waggled a foreleg. "I was just Converted a couple days ago."

"Really?"

"Uh-huh." Lilac settled down on the floor near the wheelchair, folding her legs beneath her with a bit of effort that showed she was still learning how her body worked.

"What was it like?" This was an old trick: if you could get someone to talk about themselves, they were less likely to ask you questions about yourself. But Ana really did want to know about the process she was committing herself to.

Lilac's ears twitched, and her withers shifted in what must have been a shrug. "It was pretty straightforward. I got called in, I took off my clothes, I drank some nasty purple grape stuff, I went to sleep, and then I woke up like this." She whisked her long tail. It was pale as cornsilk, and very pretty.

"Did it hurt?"

"Probably, but they give us something to knock us out along with the potion, so I didn't feel it. I had a pretty wild dream, though."

"A nightmare?"

"Nuh-uh. In fact, it was really nice. Do you want to hear about it?"

Before Ana could answer, a chime came from the walls.

"Whups, it's time for my flower class." Lilac got to her hooves, stumbled, recovered. "Do you want to come along? I'm sure the teacher won't mind. His name is Gladiolus and he's really nice. He's actually from Equestria and he could answer any questions you have about it." She giggled. It was charming. "If I haven't driven him crazy with all my questions, I'm pretty sure he can handle some from you."

Ana grasped the wheels of her chair and tried to turn herself towards the door. The chair wouldn't budge. "Oh, what's wrong with this damn thing now?!"

"Psst." Lilac pointed a hoof and stage whispered, "Brakes."

"Shit." Ana unlocked the wheels and spun the chair around. Unfamiliar or not, it was an improvement over the crutches.

"So you want me to push you?" Lilac seemed eager to help. "I can get behind the chair and–"

"NO!!" At Ana's shout Lilac's ears drooped…and this time Ana felt a tiny twinge of guilt. She summoned a smile she hoped would appear genuine. "Thanks, but I…I need to get used to steering this thing. Why don't you lead the way? But slowly."

"Of course I will!" Lilac pulled the door open effortlessly with her mouth and held it while Ana maneuvered the chair into the hallway. Then she trotted in front of Ana and started towards the classroom area. From time to time she looked back to make sure she wasn't outdistancing the wheelchair. Each time Ana nodded encouragingly, and with a happy nod in return Lilac would continue on.

Behind her carefully maintained neutral expression, Ana gritted her teeth. The purple pony was just so damned nice. It was infuriating.

***

Author's Note

When you've spent your entire life looking out for yourself alone, it colors your perception of others. Why wouldn't everyone else be out to get something at another's expense.

That's why Ana doesn't trust Lilac's friendly demeanor. She can't determine the pony's ulterior motives.

That's because Lilac doesn't have any.

Take off my red shoes

Pain.

Ana had forgotten how bad it could be. She'd spent most of the day before running on adrenaline and desperation, and after dinner last night she was so exhausted she'd collapsed into bed. She hasn't even objected when Lilac insisted on tucking her in.

She woke up with hell in her lower limbs.

Her left leg throbbed; her calf was cramping, and the bottom of her left foot felt as though it had been seared with a blowtorch.

Her right leg was ten times worse. She couldn't even feel her twisted right foot; that was the only mercy. Overwhelming the ache of strained muscles and stressed tendons was the misshapen lump that had once been her right knee. A hot, blunted iron spike was being rammed underneath her kneecap. Angry hornets, wings aflame, buzzed frantically along her nerves to places she didn't know could hurt. Desperately she tried to shift a little where she lay, desperate to achieve the smallest fraction of relief, and was rewarded with a fresh burst of agony that made her shriek in helpless torment. Pain. Pain was all she knew. It filled her senses, shut out any other thought. It was worse than the attack that had destroyed most of the bones in her legs. She'd been dazed and confused and blissfully in shock for hours afterward. She didn't even remember how she got to the backwater clinic where she'd lain for weeks, without any painkillers, believing with all her heart that there was no greater pain that existed.

She'd been wrong. The pain, the worst pain, had waited to make its appearance now, to perform its hideous wonders on her badly-healed limbs just when she'd begun to believe there was an escape.

Something jarred the mattress near her, shaking the bed and sending fresh waves of anguish through her wrecked legs. Ana screamed and a pair of impossibly huge, impossibly blue eyes stared down at her. "Ana, what's the matter?" Lilac looked both anxious and terrified. "Where does it hurt?"

"FUCK!!!" Ana screamed in the pony's face, and Lilac recoiled as if struck. Ana didn't care. "WHERE DO YOU THINK IT HURTS, YOU DAMN STUPID HORSE?!" Ana was wailing, sobbing with pain and despair and fury. "I was the premiere dancer in the finest troupe in the Western Hemisphere, the best in the fucking world, and because another bitch wanted my spot she had her fuckbuddy and his brother smash my leg bones to splinters! I'll never dance again, I can't even fucking walk, it hurts all the time, it hurts worse when I try to get around, and I JUST WANT TO FUCKING DIE!" Ana hurled a fist at the trembling muzzle and missed badly. "Just leave me the fuck alone!"

Her eyes flooding with tears, Lilac wheeled around and bolted from the room. Good, she was gone. Ana was glad. She didn't feel abandoned at all.

She gave herself over to wracking sobs that shook her whole body. It made the pain worse, but it didn't matter. Life was pain. The world was pain. Nothing else was real.

So overwhelmed was she that she didn't even know anyone had come into the room until she felt the needle slide into her arm. A vast, velvet darkness descended upon her, and Ana welcomed it as it consumed her.

She hoped she wouldn't wake up.

***

But she did.

The first thing she noticed was that her arms felt sore. No wonder, pushing that damn wheelchair around all day. It was still better than the crutches. Trying to maneuver with those fucking sticks for any distance always made her legs hurt so bad.

But that was the funny thing. It was why she noticed the ache in her arms. Her legs weren't hurting. In fact, she couldn't feel them at all.

They must've cut them right off. Good! Fucking things were useless for anything but making me miserable anyway.

But she felt hot tears welling up in her closed eyes. Those legs were hers, dammit, ruined or not. They had served her well, brought her to the pinnacle of her art, made her the toast of the continent. Without them, she was nothing. A sob escaped her raw, aching throat.

She felt something warm come to rest on her shoulder. Not a hand. A voice came from it. "Ana? It's okay. I promise, it's okay."

Ana forced her wet eyes open. Lilac's face was close to hers, those cerulean eyes wide with concern and compassion. She was resting her head on Ana's shoulder. Gently, she nuzzled the side of Ana's head with her muzzle. Ana wanted to push her away, but somehow it didn't seem worth the bother.

"My…legs…" she croaked.

"Are they still hurting? Dr Pastern said they shouldn't be."

"I can't…feel them…" Ana pushed herself up on one elbow and looked. She discovered she was no longer in the room she shared with Lilac. It looked like one of the examination rooms. She was lying in a hospital bed, covered by a thin gray blanket designed more for modesty than warmth. Underneath the thin synthcotton she could see the misshapen lumps of her legs. She tried to move them, and they shifted a little, but she felt nothing. She couldn't even feel the blanket against her legs. They were completely numb.

"The doctor did something to make your legs stop hurting," Lilac explained. "You just have to be really careful not to hurt yourself, since you can't feel any pain down there anymore. But I'll help you. When you're rested up, we can go back to our room. Your wheelchair's right over there in the corner–see? I promise, everything's going to be fine."

***

While Lilac's definition of fine differed significantly from Ana's, there was no denying that her life was easier after the nerve blocks Dr Pastern had applied to her mangled legs. She learned how to maneuver the chair, and was more mobile than she'd been since the attack. She was able to go to the classes and seminars, get to the cafeteria by herself, and if she was very careful and kept herself well supported she could even stand upright long enough to have a shower.

Even so, Ana kept mostly to herself…as much as Lilac would allow her to. Her pony roommate kept trying to introduce her to others at the Bureau. There was a quiet but handsome young server in the cafeteria. Lilac called him Trev, and somehow he always managed to provide something special for their meals. Ana hadn't tasted real strawberries since the post-performance gala after her star turn as Odette before a gathering of the Good Families. No, that wasn't true. If these Equestrian imports were any indication, she had never tasted real strawberries before.

Ana skipped lunch one day, having become engrossed in a lesson on Equestrian culture. Pastern had been right; there was dancing in Equestria, at least of a sort, as well as many other art forms. Oddly, Equestrian art echoed Earth's classic periods in ways that only the well-educated would be able to detect. She found herself engrossed in a lively discussion (along with a game designer, a folk singer, and a graphic artist) about whether Equestrian art was derived from Earth's, or vice versa. She thoroughly enjoyed the debate, and lost all track of time.

Strangely, Lilac didn't come searching for her. Ana didn't miss going to lunch, really; she had a longstanding habit of skipping the midday meal altogether. By the time the group had agreed to disagree, it was almost dinnertime.

When Ana went to the cafeteria, there was a third party at the table she shared with Lilac. An ungainly tall girl in a Green level jumpsuit sat awkwardly on a seat cushion, smiling politely and nodding when Lilac introduced her.

"This is Tib. That's not her whole name, but she has like four of them so she just goes by 'Tib'. I think it's really cute, don't you? She just came here today, all the way from New Mobileans, can you believe that? Tib, this is my roommate Ana. She was born in Atlanta. That's kind of close to where you come from, isn't it? I mean, not super close, but they're both in the Old South, so you're practically neighbors, continentally speaking. Is 'continentally' a word? I guess it is now. Anyway, Tib helped me get you a tray. You know how new I am at this stuff. Trev slipped us some extra because I told him you skipped lunch. Anyway, why isn't anypony else talking? Say hi already!"

The frizzy-haired girl–Tib–offered a cautious smile. "Hi. Nice to meet you, Ana." She had a pleasantly sweet voice that was completely at odds with her ungainly appearance.

"Pleasure." Ana nodded curtly.

"See? I knew you two would hit it off. Now, Tib, you were saying that your new roomie wants to get dinner in her room because she doesn't like crowds? Maybe after dinner we could go with you, when you take a tray back for her. You could introduce us and I'll talk her into coming in here with us every day! It's no fun being lonely. I was alone for a long time and I hated it. I remember this one time…"

As Lilac continued her narrative, Ana looked at Tib. The hazel-green eyes met hers, and Tib winked at her. Ana suppressed a smile–and winked back. Sometimes all you had to do was sit back and let Lilac filibuster.

***

Even after Trev underwent Conversion, he still helped out a lot in the caff. Now known as Chocolate Chip Muffin, or "Chip" as Lilac named him, he was more helpful than ever, and displayed a sense of fun he'd long kept buried under his cultural conditioning. He came from a Sikh family, he'd explained. Caring and supportive, but not overly given to whimsy. His parents had not chosen Conversion, but they'd allowed their son to make his own choice. He was obviously saddened by that, but it was difficult to remain melancholy with Lilac around.

Tib's roommate finally made an appearance at table after days of coaxing by a determined lavender pony. Park Eun-sook was a tiny, deceptively frail-looking Korean woman. She appeared to be in her fifties, but Ana sensed she was at least a couple of decades older. She spoke in clear, measured tones with no trace of an accent.

"What is it you call her, Tib?" Lilac was nibbling on one of Chip's newest creations, a kind of alfalfa and dandelion quiche. It smelled really good, actually.

"Halmeonee," the old woman said tersely. "Only Tib gets to call me that."

Lilac chewed and gulped, licking her muzzle. "Is that your middle name?"

"No. Two names are enough for me."

"It means 'grandmother'," Tib supplied. "She told me this morning."

Eun-sook shot Tib a look that would have stopped a bullet train on its tracks. "I did not tell you that you could tell anyone that."

Tib shrugged, unflustered, as she took a sip of orange…whatever. "Oops."

"So 'how many' is Korean for grandmother. I learned a new word today!" Lilac clapped her hooves. "And I didn't even make it up!"

"Hal…meon…ee." The old woman enunciated the words very carefully. "And you call me Eun-sook."

"And what does…unsoak mean?" asked Lilac. (Eun-sook rolled her eyes.)

"It rhymes with 'sun took' more or less," said Tib. (Eun-sook snorted.) "And it means 'cranky little old b--' ow!" Tib flinched from the slap the old lady delivered to her head.

"Enough from you," Eun-sook growled, but there was no bite in it.

Lilac giggled, and Ana had to suppress another smile. Obviously those who chose ponification–the early adopters, at least–were more or less misfits and outcasts. Like she was…now.

Ah, but still Ana remembered a time when she wouldn't have been caught dead in public with the likes of the Cajun girl or the old Korean. A time when she'd been the toast of every continent, the face and legs and spirit of classical ballet.

Sometimes in the night she would dream of being back on stage, before an attentive audience enthralled by the slightest tilt of her head, the smallest gesture of her hand, and every step she took as she danced. The dance was her only friend, her only lover, the only thing she trusted.

She leapt and cavorted gaily as the peasant girl Giselle, only to become a subtle wraith as her ghost, the pinnacle of despairing beauty. She was the graceful Odette, a princess transformed into a swan. In the pas de deux in Don Quixote, she could balance the arabesque perfectly, unsupported by her partner, for a full breathtaking minute, without the slightest wobble, poised en pointe as motionless as a glass sculpture.

But glass was fragile. So fragile.

They broke her, did Camille's bullyboys. In reality they accosted her in a deserted hallway, long after the theater had closed for the night, when she'd tarried too long trying to perfect her ronds de jambe for the next evening's performance on an uncommonly short stage.

But her dreams, every one of them, would end with the men charging up onto the stage, wielding their weapons, knocking her legs out from under her before she could flee. Then the blows would come, her screams for help and pleas for mercy drowning out the pummeling of her flesh, the splintering of her bones.

Snobby little ghetto gash. Not so high and mighty now, are you? You've been walking all over everybody with those pretty little feet. Well, you ain't never gonna walk again. We ain't gonna kill you, we're just gonna fuck you up so bad those legs of yours won't be of any use to you or anybody else, ever again.

Sometimes she woke up crying, quietly, tears coursing down her face.

One night she woke up screaming, too terrified to remember where she was. Then a warm body settled onto the bed beside her, a shape that was not human. Lilac nuzzled her, humming softly, sweetly, her very presence anchoring, comforting. She lay there until Ana stopped trembling and sobbing, until she stopped gasping in pain that no longer troubled her, until she realized she was safe and her heartbeat slowed to normal. As she relaxed, Lilac left off humming and rose from her bed, still not saying a word. Hooves tapped softly on the tile floor as the pony returned to her pallet. When the wakeup chime sounded, Lilac greeted Ana with her usual cheerful "Good morning!" No mention was ever made of the nightmare, the screaming hysteria, the comfort.

Ana couldn't help but feel grateful.

***

Author's Note

I have arthritis in both my legs, and I wake up some mornings in so much pain I just lie there and cry.

I broke my kneecap when I was a teenager, and let me tell you something, kids--that is a pain I would not wish on my worst enemy. I can only imagine what it would be like to have both kneecaps pummeled to splinters and every bone in your legs broken...and then deliberately allowed to heal badly by a so-called doctor who was bribed to ensure Ana would never dance again.

I don't know what happened to Camille or her cronies. I hope they got what they deserved.

Your dream will come true

"Anastasia Walova! The time has come. Please report to the Pony Room. Be there, or be unpopular! The good doctor hates to be kept waiting."

Lilac insisted on pushing Ana's chair down the hallway, her forelegs draped over the handholds while she trotted with her rear legs. She was denied entry to the Ponification Room, however. She sulked for a moment, then brightened and gave Ana an affectionate nuzzle. "See you when you come out, Ana!"

After the little pony trotted away, Lynn, the physician's assistant, wheeled Ana inside. Dr Pastern was already measuring out the dosage for her transformation. The sharp eyes behind the spectacles darted in Ana's direction. "Last chance to change your mind."

"Like you said, Doctor...the whole damn world's coming to an end." But it was more than that, really. Even if her legs could be made whole again…even if she could recover anything approaching her former skill…even if she could find a troupe that would accept her…Ana had to finally admit to herself that she would never be able to set foot on a stage again. Camille's bastards had broken more than her bones; they'd crushed her spirit, obliterated her confidence. As a dancer, she was finished…at least on Earth.

"Let's do this." Her resolve was absolute.

Lynn removed her clothes and lifted her onto the table. The PA was stronger than she looked, and Ana was below her dancing weight. She'd maintained herself at 44 kilos since the age of sixteen, but by now she might weigh 40 kg soaking wet with a pocket full of marbles.

Dr Pastern placed the paper cup in her hand. Immediately Ana downed it, even as the doctor was saying "You might want to lie down on your si–"

And that was the last thing her human ears heard.

***

She was running. Running through tall grass, vibrantly green, that whipped against her bare legs. Her legs! They were whole again, whole and strong and swift. She threw back her head and laughed up at the beautiful blue sky as she sprinted across the field, untiring and joyous.

She wasn't alone; on every side, before her and behind, ran spectral ponies of every color, from snowy white to ebon black, pink and yellow and blue and every shade imaginable in between. She was in the heart of the herd, she was part of the herd, and the ponies welcomed her in a way she had never known in her life.

She leapt into the air, performing assemble and entrechat and grand jete with every second or third stride. The members of the herd joined her, performing with four legs the same moves she achieved with two. She was a member of a troupe again, the leader of the troupe, the prima ballerina in a grand dance that she directed with her own body.

She didn't realize the herd had faded away until she found herself in a wide clearing, ringed with lilies and sunflowers. The grass here was cropped short, a verdant carpet of living velvet. It was a circular stage, with flowers as the audience.

Ana danced, not as Giselle or Odette or Kitri or even Anastasia Walova. She danced as herself, a new self, freshly minted, free for the first time in her life to do whatever she wanted.

And she wanted to dance.

Gradually she became aware that she had companions for her dancing. They were neither rivals nor corps, but two amazingly beautiful creatures. One was shining white, with a mane and tail of prismatic curtains of light. The other was the deepest, darkest, purest blue, crowned and trained with veils of night sky aurorae, dusted with shimmering stars.

The princesses spoke only with their grace and their flying hooves. They welcomed her, expressing beyond any words how happy they were that she was becoming one of their herd.

When Ana reached out to stroke Celestia's soft white neck en passant, pearlescent wings swept her up into an effortless high lift and tossed her playfully across the clearing. Completely unafraid, Ana performed a grand jete split as she flew through the air, to be caught by Luna's night-shrouded wings. The Moon Princess spun on her hooves and set Ana on her feet, where she danced her enjoyment of the experience.

Did they dance together for minutes? Hours? Days? Ana could never remember. When a dance was truly wonderful, she gave herself up to it completely. Time lost all meaning. It was an instant and forever all at once, and it was glorious.

But the dance, as all dances do, came at last to an end. Ana sank to the grass, one leg extended, bowing low to the rulers of her new world.

"Ana? Ana, wake up."

If this was a dream, she didn't want to wake up. She was whole again, she could dance again, and her old life held no attractions for her.

A soft nuzzle against her ear. "C'mon, Ana, wake up! Wait till you see yourself!"

Ana whinnied softly and twitched her ear.

Whinnied?

Twitched her ear?!

Ana forced her eyes open. She was lying on a table and the first face she saw was Lilac's, beaming with joy. "Hi, Ana! Welcome back! You've been asleep for the longest time but Doc Pastern said it was okay for me to come wake you up now. How are you feeling?"

Ana braced herself and moved her legs. No pain! Not only that, but she felt good. She felt really good, all over. It had been a long time since she'd felt no pain at all–no aching feet or knees or hips or arms or…or anything. She tried to sit up, but her limbs felt strange.

Well, yeah. I must be a pony now.

Ana giggled at herself (when was the last time she giggled? had she ever giggled?) and swung her legs off the table. Her center of gravity had changed, and she had to put her hands–no, her front hooves–down to catch herself. She never wanted to fall again. Her rear hooves touched down securely on the floor, and she stood steady and strong on four legs

"Careful!" Dr Pastern warned, setting down her workpad. "Don't try to walk just yet. It's not just your shape, but your center of gravity that's changed. Get used to yourself."

Ana looked down at her new body. Her coat was the color of fine blush champagne; her legs were slender but felt powerful, and her hooves, oh her hooves were almost pearlescent. They shimmered in the track lighting. She held one forehoof up and turned it slowly, admiring the glimmers of reflection. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a lock of her mane, equally pale, equally iridescent. She looked back at herself to see if the carpet matched the drapes–and saw that she had wings. What magnificent grand jete she would perform now! She giggled again and, on impulse, did a brief modified rond de jambe. Her hooves all but rang on the tile floor as she turned in place, finishing in something like a modified fifth position with her front hooves.

"Look at that!" Pastern grinned at Lynn. "Perfect balance, flawless coordination, straight out the gate! I've never seen that before. It could be possible that athletes and physical performers transition their trained skills. I've got to put this in the report…" She picked up her pad and began tapping on it with her fingers.

Bemused, Lynn looked at the pair of fillies who were merrily prancing around each other now, like a two-horse carousel. "Don't pay Ros any mind," she stage-whispered. "She gets like that."

"I can't wait to learn to fly!" Ana was ecstatic. Who needed hands? She had four feet, permanently en pointe, and her new toes would never get sore or blistered. And with her wings, she could quite literally dance on air.

"You'll be as light as a feather falling," said Lynn.

Lilac hopped with delight. "That would be a great new name for you, Ana! Featherfall! Featherfall Dancer! What do you think?"

Ana looked into her roommate's brilliant blue eyes, glowing with anticipation. How could she crush those hopes? Besides…"I like it."

***

Author's Note

There goes Doc Pastern again, getting all excited over a new Conversion related discovery. Like a kid in a candy store.

Since during Conversion the body is not replaced but merely reshaped, it makes sense that certain physical abilities such as balance awareness would translate during the process. Dancing en pointe is all about balance. Those ballet moves are all about body control and muscle memory. It takes years of training and constant practice to maintain, and dancers have a relatively short career path simply because all that work takes a phenomenal toll on the body.

This curve is your smile

Of course, something had to ruin things. It was how the Earth worked; nothing good ever lasted.

On her third morning as a pony, Featherfall was walking between Lilac and Chip down the main hallway when a tall, green-clad human barreled into them, making them scatter. Lilac hit the wall, Chip staggered sideways, and Feather had to go flap her wings in the confined space to keep from falling. She nearly bumped her head on the ceiling. "Hey, watch where the hay you're going!" she shouted after the running figure, who didn't even pause.

Lilac started running after whoever it was, and Chip clambered to his hooves, wide-eyed. "That was Tib!" He galloped after Lilac.

Featherfall folded her wings and followed after, frowning. Tib was never the most graceful at the best of times. She was the last person who should be running full tilt down a corridor full of humans and ponies.

She'd almost reached the door of the lobby when she heard Tib's wail. "She daid!"

Feather skidded to a halt beside Chip. She saw Tib standing at the reception desk, her hands slammed flat on the plaswood surface. "Eun-sook, she be layin' back dere in her bunk stone col' daid! She passed in de night an' I never knew not'in', me!"

"No!" Chip stood frozen, wide-eyed. Lilac began quietly sobbing. Featherfall tried to push past the two earth ponies, but they were blocking the doorway. She saw Beth escorting Tib, who was now wailing in mangled French, down the other corridor, towards the medical wing.

"She was fine yesterday!" Lilac cried out. "She went up to the roof with us! We went to watch you fly, Feather. She was fine then! How could she just…just…like that?!" She buried her face against Chip's shoulder and bawled.

"She…she was just…old." Chip's brown eyes were streaming tears. "Poor Eun-sook. Poor Tib." He hitched a sob. "Poor us."

It was only when she felt her cheeks getting wet that Feather realized she was crying, too. The selfishness that had allowed her to flourish for almost a decade in professional ballet was completely gone. She wept for herself, yes, but she was far sadder for Eun-sook, who would never see Equestria now. If the unicorns were right, the little old lady who was so compassionate and wise beneath her gruff manner was gone. Gone forever.

A gurney was rattling across the lobby towards them. Pastern was pushing it at a full run, her face set in a deep scowl of determination. "MOVE!!!" she bellowed, and the three ponies scattered out of her way into the lobby as she flew past with the gurney, Lynn on her heels.

Featherfall stared after them. "Why are they in such a hurry if Eun-sook is…isn't alive anymore?"

"Maybe Tib was wrong." There was desperate hope in Chip's voice. "Tib isn't a doctor. Maybe Doctor Pastern can help her." He nuzzled Lilac and Featherfall in turn. "I bet she can."

The gurney came rattling back, with Pastern at the front, pulling it behind her while Lynn pushed at the back. The trio of ponies parted again to let them pass–Lilac and Chip to the left, Featherfall to the right. So only Feather saw Eun-sook's face, which was turned towards her side. The old woman's skin was bluish white, her lips parted, her half-lidded eyes dull gray marbles.

She couldn't possibly have been any more dead.

All unaware, or perhaps in deep denial, Chip and Lilac trotted after the gurney, halting only when Lynn turned and held up a hand to forestall them as she and the doctor guided the gurney with its small burden through the open steel door, which shut and locked behond them.

Featherfall moved to stand with the yellow stallion and the lavender mare. They all watched as a purple light flickered on above the door. It bore the symbol for thaumatic radiation, warning off the unwary.

"They took her to the Pony Room," Chip told them. "See? They wouldn't do that if she was…if they couldn't save her."

Sniffling, Lilac nodded. "She's just sick, that's all. Really sick. They're going to ponify her and make her all better. She's going to be okay…" She tried so hard to smile. She couldn't quite manage. "She's really going to be okay. Right, Feather?"

Featherfall couldn't meet those hopelessly hopeful eyes. She just stared at the closed door to the Pony Room.

She wished she still prayed. There was no one to pray to, though. Except…

Celestia. No, Luna–you're the one who escorts the dead. Don't take Eun-sook away. Don't let her slip into the nothing that waits for all humans who don't Convert. Please, Luna, let Eun-sook live.

Let her be a pony.

The three of them waited at the head of the hallway. No more words were exchanged. Minutes passed, minutes that seemed like hours. The average transformation took about fifteen minutes, twenty at most. Roslyn Pastern ran an extremely tight schedule; if they'd actually managed to save her, Eun-sook would be trotting out on four hooves by now.

Don't be stupid. They couldn't save her. She was…she was dead. There's no coming back from that. Not for an unconverted huma–

The door opened, and all three of them tensed, staring. Chip and Lilac looked hopeful. Featherfall looked grim, awaiting the inevitable.

Tib came out, hunched over. Her long arms encircled and supported a tiny blue-green unicorn with a mane and tail of variegated silken fire.

Lilac squealed and galloped down the hall. Tib halted and held up her hand. Lilac skidded to a stop so hard she sat down on the tile. "Careful," Tib warned, one arm still supporting the unicorn. "She's a bit unsteady on her hooves."

"There you go again," Eun-sook's gravelly voice muttered from the unicorn's mouth. "Giving out too much information."

Lilac was bouncing up and down with glee. Chip was either laughing or crying with relief.

Featherfall silently thanked the Princess of the Moon.

***

Author's Note

Make way for a doctor on a mission!

Great Allfather, I adore Roslyn Pastern. ❤️

This cross is your heart

"They're not going away."

Chip was looking out the duraglass door that fronted the Bureau. Featherfall could feel his trembling as she stepped beside him to see what was happening.

A group of perhaps ten people were walking in a loose circle in the plaza, waving signs and chanting.

Hey hey!
Ho ho!
Equestria has got to go!

"Protesters," she observed mildly.

"Why can't they just leave us alone?" Chip all but wailed.

"Some people have to have something to complain about," Feather told him. "I was in a nude production of The Firebird a while back–all we wore were pointe shoes and body paint–and almost a hundred people showed up to say it was indecent. Can you believe that, in this day and age?"

A horse is a horse
Of course, of course
But you won't make us change by force!

"Nopony is being forced," Chip objected. "Celestia said that it has to be a free choice."

"Chip, these people are morons. Besides, some of them believe they are being forced. Earth is being eaten up by Equestria, remember?"

"The Earth is dead anyway. Even if Equestria hadn't shown up, we'd have, what? Thirty years?"

"Three generations, they said. But the last wouldn't live long."

Up with humans! Down with ponies!
Celestia is full of baloney!

Chip laughed. "Oh, they did not just say that!"

"I don't think they're taking this too seriously." Featherfall surveyed the group as it became less organized. "Not all of them, anyway."

A woman wearing a wig gone askew on her head leapt on top of one of the rusted benches. She was holding a black book–a Bible, Featherfall realized–above her head. "Begone, hellspawn!" the woman screeched at the door. "I cast you out in the name of the Most High! Forsake the Whore of Babylon and beg forgiveness of the Almighty God!"

Featherfall rolled her eyes. "Great. Fundamentalists."

"You who abandon your humanity will lose your immortal souls!" the woman shouted. "You will be cast into the lake of fire, where the devils will tear out your tongues with red-hot pincers so that you cannot beg God's forgiveness! Your bellies will be cut open and your entrails set afire! Your eyes will roast and your bowels will burst, but you will never die and the fires WILL NEVER END!"

"Let's go, Chip." Featherfall interposed herself between the yellow pony and the door and nudged him back. She was half Chip's mass, but he moved. "We don't need to see any more of this. It's lunchtime anyway."

"I'm not hungry…" For Chip, who loved eating food almost as much as he enjoyed preparing it, this was a definite first.

"We're leaving. They're making fools of themselves." She guided him away, towards the cafeteria, dismissing his assertion that he wouldn't be able to eat anything. Thankfully the Ill feelings brought by the unpleasant drama outside were dispelled by Eun-sook's dramatic presentation of her new name, as well as by Lilac's impatient antics while the little aquamarine unicorn drew out her reasoning before the reveal. At last the unicorn named herself–Harmony–and by that time Chip was eating his haycakes with gusto. Even Featherfall managed to eat. She dismissed the unpleasantries of the crowd outside, certain that, thankfully, she'd never see any of those fanatics again.

Or so she thought.

She was wrong.

***

Author's Note

Shirley and her bunch of fanatics make another appearance.

The way you always thought it would be

"Feather! Feather, wake up! Wake up!!"

Featherfall blinked her eyes open. After…well, after getting very…frisky…with Lilac and Chip, she'd drifted into a spent and blissful slumber. She couldn't have been asleep that long; she still felt a sweet ache in her…well, in places she'd never used so…diligently before. "Hwuh…?"

"It's Tib! She's being called to the Pony Room!"

Featherfall sat up and shook her head to settle her still blissed-out brain. "What? Tib's getting Ponified? Today?"

"No, the second Tuesday of next week!" Chip was laughing with excitement. He was already up and trotting to the door. "Let's go wish her luck!"

Featherfall followed after with Lilac at her side. All the way down the hall towards the lobby she wondered when they were going to talk about…about what happened. They did need to talk, didn't they?

Didn't they?

The voice of the blond Finnish tech guy–Alex? No, Alexi–derailed her train of thought. "...I can't even spell this and I'm looking right at it! Wait, what? Is that what she goes by? Great. TIB! Come on down, Tib! You're the next contestant on The Ponification Is Right!"

Chip stopped dead in his tracks at the doorway, and both Lilac and Feather almost plowed into him, checking their gait only just in time. They all saw Tib being dragged across the lobby, almost literally, by an arm held fast in the grip of a grimly determined Beth. Tib wasn't putting up any resistance; if anything, she looked…ashamed?

When Beth came back, she was alone. She stomped to her desk and set down heavily. Almost at once she was besieged by three agitated equines demanding information.

Chip: "What the hay is going on with Tib?"

Lilac: "Is Tib okay? What happened to her?"

Featherfall: "Why were you forcing her back there? Conversion is supposed to be voluntary!"

Beth held up both her hands. "Hold on a minute! Tib's fine. Nobody's forcing her. She didn't change her mind or anything. There was just…something went on outside, and–"

"Outside?" Lilac was puzzled, but Chip caught on at once.

"She went out to chase off the protestors, didn't she? Oh, Celestia, it was all my fault. She knew I was upset. I shouldn't have said anything…"

Featherfall gave him a nuzzle that was almost a poke. "We were both upset. And Tib is confrontational." She looked at Beth. "Did she get hurt?"

"I think one of them hit her with a rock. The woman was talking about stoning her."

Featherfall felt a very unponylike flash of rage. She wheeled around and started galloping towards the outer door. It was locked, and she was trying to decide whether to find someone to open it for her or just buck the thing down when Chip trotted up to her. "Don't bother, Feather, it's okay, they're gone. See?"

Featherfall looked out of the clear plasteel door. Sure enough, the area was deserted except for a worker from one of the other Bureaus collecting the discarded signs. Her anger only somewhat abated. She wanted someone to…to confront about this! "They hit Tib with a rock!" she fumed. "They were going to stone her to death, right on the steps of this place!"

"But they didn't," Chip pointed out, moving in front of Featherfall and coaxing her away from the door. "In fact, Beth said she felt more like she was saving them. Tib was on her feet, hopping mad, and about to go after Wig Woman when Beth brought her in."

"Twenty to one?" Feather scoffed. "Even Tib's not that crazy…is she?"

"Most of them were gone. Just three were left and Beth thought Tib could've taken them."

Chip shivered at the very thought of violence, but Featherfall smirked. "I bet she could have." She still wanted to go after the one who threw rocks at her friend (just to remonstrate with them, really, that was all), but she was less angry at them now and more concerned about Tib. She let Chip steer her back towards the lobby. She could talk it out with Tib when she came out…if she still felt like talking about it as a pony.

"It's a good thing she got called in the middle of all this," Chip observed as they rejoined Lilac, who was waiting outside the Pony Room. "That was a real stroke of luck."

"Yes...quite the coincidence, that." Featherfall wondered if it really was a coincidence. She looked at her friends

(but weren't they her lovers now?)

and Lilac was as trusting and accepting as always, but she could see in Chip's eyes that he was wondering too.

Eventually the door opened, revealing a magnificently tall, indisputably imposing crimson pegasus with a rich, shining mane and tail of pure white streaked with glistening ebony. Her eyes were a shade lighter than emerald but no less rich in hue. She stood there, looking like a stranger, but when she smiled it was with Tib's quirky tilt of the lips, and when she spoke it was with Tib's musical voice. "Hey y'all, where y'at?"

Lilac squealed and charged her. As soon as she hit the crimson pegasus they both went down in a fury of flailing hooves and fluttering wings, right there in the doorway, completely shattering the regal air the newest pony of their group presented. "Whoa, girl! Take it slow, I not used to four laigs yet, me!" But she was laughing.

Chip went to help them both up, while Featherfall marveled at her friend's transformation…and how much of her hadn't changed. "Still a klutz, I see," she observed as Tib rose unsteadily to her hooves.

My name's Madrigal Baroque now," the crimson pony said. "And we can't all be the epitome of grace you are."

A throat cleared noisily behind her, and Tib–Madrigal–moved hastily into the hallway, almost falling on top of Lilac again but managing to stay on her hooves. Harmony trotted sedately out behind her granddaughter. "Enough loitering," she said in her sternly kind voice. "You need to practice walking on those long legs, so let's get moving."

"It's not the legs that worry me, it's these things." Awkwardly Madrigal fluttered her oversized wings. She seemed to be having trouble making them lie flat on her back.

"I can help you." It was the first time Featherfall had ever said those words, and she meant them with all her newly-awakened heart. "With flying, I mean. It's easier than you might think. You'll be airborne in no time."

Madrigal snorted. "Even a klutz like me?"

Impulsively Feather nuzzled her shoulder. It was all she could reach. "Even a klutz like you, Maddie."

***

Author's Note

So the embittered, misanthropic ex-ballerina who hated the whole world and herself equally learns to care about others.

That's not the power of the Potion. That's the power of learning to love others, and to love yourself too.

You've got to dance

Lilac was screaming. There was smoke everywhere. The ship was being consumed by fire. Flames spread hungrily over the deck, resisting all efforts to extinguish them. She heard Chip yell "Bucking hay!!", but she couldn't find him amid the smoke and burning and the milling crowd of panicking people and ponies.

The transport ship had just left the dock at San Francisco, heading for the ever-encroaching barrier to cross over into Equestria, when a gang of masked and black-clad figures had hurled firebombs all over the ship's main deck. There wasn't much flammable–no wood, only metal and plascrete–but still the fire grew and spread, threatening to engulf everything on the ship, inert or alive.

She heard a sharp whistle pierce the gloom and Harmony's voice rang out. "Featherfall here to me!" It was a command the rose gold pegasus obeyed before she realized she was moving.

Like a tiny blue-green drill sergeant, Harmony directed the ship's grizzled captain to herd all the passengers and crew below decks. She had a plan, and that plan involved enlisting Featherfall to help Madrigal whip up the biggest whirlwind she'd ever attempted. For once Feather had to follow her friend's lead as they flew in ever-tightening circles around the burning ship. The cyclone would suck up bay water and wash off the deck; the salt water would render this particular accelerant, which Harmony called "Hell Jelly", inert.

Harmony's plan worked; the ship was stripped of whatever substance had made the bare metal burn, and they continued on their way. Harmony had stayed on the deck, protected by her hornfield, which had collapsed just as they released the water onto the deck. Both Madrigal and Featherfall had feared the worst, but Harmony had died once, and she was in no hurry to do so again. Recovering from her near-drowning, the tiny unicorn directed the others and applied her own magic and carefully-stocked herbs to heal up the injured.

Harmony couldn't hate the terrorists who'd thrown the deadly molotovs–so she said. Featherfall found she couldn't truly work up a good hate-on, either…but she could be–she was–so angered by the attempt on their lives that she felt no sympathy whatsoever when she heard that the Blackmesh had taken care of them.

Permanently.

She only had to look at her lovers to justify her lack of empathy. Chip had a poultice on his flank where he'd lain to smother the blaze of Lilac's tail…

Poor Lilac. Her long, lovely cornsilk tail had been destroyed. In its place she had a short tuft of hastily-trimmed hair. It made Featherfall heartsick, but Lilac didn't seem to mind. She even said she might leave her tail cropped. Feather promised herself to put a stop to that nonsense.

Equestria was everything promised by the holos, and so much more. The air was sweet and clean; the sky was improbably blue; the grass was green and fragrant and lush, and Chip seemed determined to sample every variety of ground cover within line of sight before they'd even set hoof on the nearby road that led…wherever it did. It was a road. It led somewhere.

And then the griffon showed up.

It–he–knew Madrigal from back on Earth as Tib. He even knew her new name. Most astonishingly, Maddie knew him. She hadn't talked much about the AI program she'd used in her work–apparently it had been too painful for her–but somehow this griffon was that very same AI, brought to Equestria and given flesh. It was hard for Feather to wrap her head around that concept, but Madrigal was happy to be reunited with something–no, someone–she'd thought lost forever, and that was all that mattered.

Strangely, Featherfall knew how that felt. As the group set off on the road to the village Corey the griffon said awaited, Feather reveled in the strength and grace she felt with each step of her new legs. She began to dance as she walked, forever on her toes now, with no cramps or blisters or bleeding sores to worry about, ever again. However much Chip might joke about "ponies in tu-tus", Feather was determined to found a dance troupe as soon as she got settled in this new, alien, beautiful world.

She jumped straight up and executed a perfect double entrechat, fore and rear legs fluttering back and forth in perfect tandem at least a dozen times before she returned to the ground. And she hadn't even used her wings to keep herself aloft!

Bounding ahead, she threw herself into ronds and jetes and graceful glissades. Laughing with pure joy, Lilac frisked around her, and Chip began whistling merrily. It must have been a tune Madrigal knew, because she began singing, and soon Harmony joined in, her throaty contralto weaving in and around Madrigal's clear soprano. The griffon, Corey, proved an appreciative audience of one, riding between Madrigal's wings.

So delighted was she in her capering, Featherfall didn't even notice the tingle in her flank. Only later, when they'd reached the village, would she see that she'd gained her cutie mark.

A pair of red ballet slippers.

THE END

Author's Note

Anypony who wants to read the full story of the burning of the transport ship and the subsequent rescue should check out the main story, The Heart Of Everything, which goes into a great deal more detail.

This story is a lot longer than I expected it to be. Ana had quite a lot to say and she wasn't shy about the way she said it.

And this line is your path

After lunch, Lilac invited Chip to their room so they could go over the more cheerful aspects of the day's events. Lilac asked nothing about the confrontation with the protestors; with uncommon skill she kept the conversation lighthearted and cheerful, discussing the revelation of Harmony's name, then going over the tree she was growing in her horticulture class.

"It's a cherry tree!" she said, eyes shining. "I planted it from a pit left over from that amazing sundae you made for me, Chip, and it sprouted almost as soon as I stuck it in the ground! Tomorrow I'm going to coax it into blossoming and by the end of the week we could have cherries grown right here in our courtyard!"

"I'll make you a cherry cheesecake," Chip promised, kissing her on the cheek. Lilac flushed under her lavender coat. Featherfall smiled a bit. She knew Lilac had a thing for the butter-yellow stallion. Not that Featherfall could blame her. Chip had been handsome as a young Indian man, and he was no less so as a pony. In fact, she found him quite attractive.

She blinked. She was attracted to Chocolate Chip Muffin. She would actually let him…no, she wanted him to…to…

"Feather?" The object of her suddenly realized obsession was addressing her. "Are you okay? You had the funniest look on your face just now."

"Don't you like cherries, Feather?" Lilac asked anxiously, her lower lip trembling.

"Of course I do, Li," Featherfall assured her. "Next to strawberries, they're my favorite."

"Maybe you can grow strawberries next," Chip suggested to Lilac.

But the lavender pony shook her head, making her blond mane shimmer. "Those don't grow from seeds very well. I mean, it can be done, sure, but it would take a lot of coaxing and the soil isn't really that strawberry friendly even with fertilizer and earth pony magic. The best way would be to import actual seedlings from Equestria, and that would mean making a special request…"

Featherfall took advantage of Lilac's impromptu lecture on "The Multiple Issues Regarding Growing Equestrian Strawberries In Earth's Ravaged Environment" to examine her sudden, unanticipated attraction for Chip. Yes, he was attractive, but there were no ugly ponies at the Bureau–or anywhere else, for that matter. He was charming in an unassuming way, even endearing, but none of that explained her feelings.

In her years as a premiere dancer, Anastasia had received solicitations from any number of influential, powerful, and even handsome men–and not a few women as well. She'd been wooed with extravagant gifts of jewels, fine clothes, sumptuous meals. She'd been offered positions as the pampered mistress of several Family members, and one of them–an older man with real power and influence–had promised her a luxuriant home in the distant, lush reaches of Antarctica in return for her favor.

She'd entertained all offers, large and small, without so much as granting any of the applicants more than a few hours of her time. She never let any of them touch her. Ana didn't like to be touched unless it was during a performance.

Of course she knew that, as a dancer, she had a limited shelf life. She couldn't expect to be at the top forever, and there was nowhere to go but down. She had to make a choice about her future, and soon, she reasoned.

She'd been about to take Whatsisname up on his offer of an Antarctic paradise when Camille had had her legs destroyed. Her supplicants evaporated, even the one who could have restored her legs with one vidcall. She had been left entirely alone.

"You've got that look again," Chip's voice cut in. "Only worse. Are you okay, Feather?"

Something about the simple, honest compassion in Chip's tone, the loving concern in Lilac's expression, broke the lock on Featherfall's private heart and loosed her captive emotions forever. She burst into tears.

At once she was pressed between two warm, comforting bodies. Lilac snuggled open against her left flank, just as she had done so many times when Ana had awakened from a nightmare, nuzzling her gently. From the other side, Chip put a foreleg across her withers and began softly licking her tears away.

Featherfall wept until her sobs subsided to soft, nickering sounds. Her emotions were so complex she could hardly discern one from another. For the first time, she understood that she had wasted her life on pursuing fame and adoration. Had she thought herself devoted to her art? No! Above all, she had been devoted to herself. She hadn't danced for joy or dedication to her craft. She'd danced for the attention, the glory, the fame, the prestige. And she hadn't given a damn about anyone else.

Things were different now. She was different. She had developed real friends, now, friends who truly cared about her. She'd mourned Eun-sook, rejoiced at her return, smiled with Tib…and Lilac, oh, Lilac had been her comfort so many times and never expected so much as a word of thanks in return. Even Chip had shown his affection with his delicious creations, his easy wit, his simple and straightforward support.

She nuzzled Lilac in return, and their mouths met. Lilac kissed her sweetly, and it was nice. So nice. Featherfall turned her head to kiss Chip as well, not wanting him to feel left out. He was a good kisser. Really good.

Things…just sort of progressed from there.

***

Author's Note

Ponies gettin' frisky!