Around Midnight

It was dark.

Sunset had made it that way. Once she’d found the music room was empty, she’d slipped inside, closed the curtains, and turned off all the overhead lighting. The room wasn’t pitch black, thanks to some noticeable blinking lights from the equipment as well as what sunlight still trickled in from behind said curtains, but it was enough.

Enough for Sunset Shimmer, sitting alone on the steps, to think.

Unfortunately, the thoughts that came were of a familiar variety.

Not so long ago, they would have been whispered to her by a cackling voice, a twisted mockery of her own. The same one that haunted her for months after the Fall Formal, feeding her endless doubts, endless fears, endless shame.

That voice wasn’t there anymore; it had been quiet ever since the Battle of the Bands. In a way, Sunset almost missed it. At least she could recognize when the demon’s words were absolute horseapples.

It was a lot harder to parse when it was her own voice telling her she’d failed.

Failed the school. Failed her friends. Failed everybody.

Failed Twilight.

Which Twilight? Sunset wasn’t sure if it mattered. The answer was probably both. That said, the one she’d sent running off in tears and carrying five friends’ worth of magic was probably the more pressing concern at present.

“What have I done?” she asked no one.

She remembered the rage that had boiled in her, when she’d watched Twilight – Twilight Sparkle – drain Rainbow Dash of her magic. The searing, burning anger she’d felt when Twilight insisted she had no idea how she’d done it. The lava in her veins when she looked at the face of the person who should have been the person they’d needed the most, the one who’d saved her, the one who’d shown her there was another way, the path to true strength and a magic she’d never known – and instead found a panicking, blubbering disaster cowering under her gaze, pleading for her understanding.

She remembered the moment she’d snapped.

“I was supposed to be better than this,” she said, as the memory of her fury ebbed away, and those thoughts of shame took their place. “I needed to be better than this.”

She jolted when she heard the door creak.

“Helloooooo? Anyone in there? Hello? Oh, wait, why am I asking the dark? If anyone’s in there they should probably close their eyes!”

Sunset quickly wished she’d taken that advice, because the overhead lights came on fast and they were bright. Immediately she shut her eyes, slowly reopening them to find Pinkie Pie opening the door the rest of the way and waving to her.

“Oh, hi Sunset! You are in here! Applejack sent me to look inside the building for you. You know we have to be ready for the third event soon, right?”

Sunset waved back, and nodded. “I know, Pinkie. I was gonna head over in a few minutes.”

“Great!” Pinkie replied, though her cheerful tone subsided when she seemed to look more closely at Sunset. “Buuuuut why were you in here? Especially in the dark? That seems like a big tripping hazard. I mean like with all the equipment and cables and also inexplicable racks of clothing that Rarity managed to pull from nowhere that might or might not still be here somewhere and stuff like that.”

Sunset fished her phone out of her side bag and held it up for Pinkie to see. “Flashlight setting. Besides, it wasn’t that dark.”

“Oooh, clever! But also if it wasn’t that dark, why are you still rubbing your eyes?”

It occurred to Sunset that she was indeed still doing that with her free hand, and put it down. “LED lights, I guess. Way too bright in here.”

“Eh,” Pinkie shrugged, “I like it bright.”

“You would.”

Pinkie either didn’t register or chose to ignore the remark, and skipped her way over to the steps. She sat down to Sunset’s right, leaning forward and silently looking up at her from the side.

Sunset had a feeling Pinkie was trying to coax her into saying something first. She opted not to take the bait. By this point, Sunset had more than enough Pinkie experience to know her friend was never going to win The Quiet Game, and she was right.

“......Sooooo what’s on your mind?”

She answered with a sigh. “You can probably guess.”

“Oooh I know! It’s how you yelled at Twilight Sparkle and she panicked and ran away with the thing holding our magic!”

“Ding ding ding,” Sunset replied with the flattest affectation she could manage.

Pinkie’s face had lit up for a moment, but it quickly dimmed down. “And you’re upset at yourself for that.”

Sunset nodded. “Pretty upset.”

She’d meant to keep it at those two words, but something clicked in her head as she said them. Before Pinkie could say anything in return, there was more spilling out.

“I… I’m trying to imagine myself ever yelling at our Twilight like that. For anything. And I mean myself today,” she added; Pinkie withdrew the finger she was raising in objection. “But with her, it’s… it’s like seeing Twilight’s face on the person who’s doing all this just made me so much angrier. Like she’s not just a problem, she’s not just being dangerous, but she’s a traitor on top of it. I couldn’t get past that. And I ruined everything.”

Her fists were clenched tight, and while her body was stiff, her arms were trembling. Pinkie sat quietly, waiting to see if there was more Sunset wanted to say. There wasn’t, though, and after a few moments Sunset released the tension, hands uncurling as her head drooped, looking down at the steps.

All of a sudden, there was a hand on her back. She glanced upward. Pinkie wasn’t smiling, but was looking at her with obvious sympathy. Sympathy Sunset hadn’t earned, but she knew better than to try arguing against it.

“Are you mad because you think you were acting like a bully again?” she asked. It was as blunt a question she could have expected Pinkie to ask, but it was regrettably a valid one.

“I don’t know,” Sunset replied, looking away towards the floor. “I want to think this was different, but just because it didn’t make me feel good doesn’t mean it wasn’t the same kind of tactic. And either way, I did it, and I did it without even having to think about it. My first instinct was to terrify her. That… that doesn’t really make me feel like I’ve changed.”

She swallowed.

“I can only imagine what Fluttershy felt, watching me act that way again.”

The hand on her back gave her a soft pat. To her right, Pinkie scooted closer until she was next to her. Sunset’s head perked up at the sensation of their bodies meeting.

“Sunset,” Pinkie said, “none of us are upset at you. Really. The only thing I heard Fluttershy say about it was that she hoped you weren’t stressing yourself out.”

The only thing she said out loud, Sunset thought.

“And I know I don’t think you were being a bully. You were sticking up for us. Maybe it wasn’t the best way you could’ve, but that’s okay. It doesn’t make you a monster that you got angry because other people were getting hurt.”

Sunset felt Pinkie’s arm wrap around her shoulders. She squirmed. It was wrong. She knew Pinkie wanted to help, but the last thing she needed was appreciation for what she’d done.

“No,” Sunset said, firmly. “That’s still not right. I mean you all… all of you met her. At least most of you have, I think. And were perfectly nice to her. All of you reached out to her, and I chased her away.”

That got a quick objection from Pinkie. “But she wasn’t doing anything dangerous when I met her, or when Fluttershy met her. At least not at first. But you saw her suck up the portal. And then you saw her draining Rainbow Dash! She was doing all the kinds of things that someone evil would’ve been doing! Of course you’d be angry seeing that happen!”

Sunset shook her head. “And I jumped to a conclusion.”

“Sometimes we need to act fast. I mean, what if you hadn’t jumped in and helped Twilight close her magic thingy? Then things might’ve been way worse!” Pinkie took her hand off Sunset and threw both her arms into the air for effect. “We could’ve had more holes like that one, or more bike-eating plants, or maybe some kind of goat-head monster that can make it rain chocolate or candy or lollipops or fudge ripple ice cream, or, um…”

That got a small laugh out of Sunset. “A little hungry, Pinkie?”

“Maybe. I heard Vice-Principal Luna ordered pizza for the CHS team before the third event!”

Sunset looked at her watch. “I guess it is getting a bit close.”

“Exactly! So we need to get back and figure out our game plan with our friends!”

“Our game plan for what, exactly?”

Pinkie smiled. “For getting our magic back from Crystal Prep Twilight’s thingy! And maybe winning the Friendship Games, too.”

There was an unavoidable sense of warmth emanating from Pinkie Pie, but Sunset couldn’t find it in herself to absorb any of the optimism. “I can’t imagine we’ll be able to get anywhere near her before the next event. And even if she wasn’t probably trying to hide from us, she’s got her whole team and that principal of hers surrounding her by now. And Cinch knows about magic; who knows what they might do? That might’ve been our last chance to talk to her, and I blew it!”

Pinkie shook her head and, shifting her body to face Sunset, placed a hand on her shoulder once more. “Don’t give up, Sunset. I mean, there were lots of times in the Battle of the Bands where it looked like it was all over, but we saved the day! And that was when we had the Sirens who were all actually evil and stuff. Since Crystal Prep Twilight isn’t evil, this should be way easier!”

Sunset was still far from certain of that, but she gave a courtesy nod to wrap things up. “I hope you’re right. We should probably get going.”

Pinkie leapt up, quickly making her way to the door and waiting expectantly. Sunset slowly got off the steps, but as she reached the floor, looking head-on at Pinkie, she stopped.

Something gnawed at her.

“I’m just not sure how I can talk to her. She looks so much like our Twilight, and she’s… I owe Twilight so much. Twilight’s the one who’s supposed to help me. How can I possibly help another Twilight?”

Pinkie stared for a moment, then shrugged. “Seems easy to me. Just do what Twilight would do for you! Well, maybe not literally, I don’t think the school can afford to fill in any more craters, but you know what I mean!”

Sunset wanted to object to that. She really did. Even putting aside the ending tangent, do what Twilight would do for you seemed naive, simplistic, and ridiculous to even try and imagine.

But she couldn’t. Because somehow, it also seemed entirely correct.

Pinkie was good at stuff like that.

“I’ll try,” Sunset said, and walked forward to meet Pinkie at the door.

The hallway was empty, and the light outside had begun to fade, heralding that the time before the next event was drawing short. Pinkie Pie bounded through the corridor leading to the exit, entranced by the idea of a pre-Games pizza as though it were a fresh-baked plate of cupcakes on a windowsill.

And Sunset Shimmer followed, walking toward her destiny.