"Dear Faust, show mercy for I have sinned!"

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Soarin's Point of View

As I walk down the gold-embroidered halls of flawless ivory, I soon find myself in the Northern Tower of the Canterlot Royal Palace. I can only imagine what work it must have took in order to construct a marvel such as this. How many ponies might have worked themselves to the bone to make this happen. How many years it took to erect this wonder. How many ponies were hurt in the construction... How many have died in doing so.

I'll never know those things. Not because no one will tell me, but rather it isn't my place to know. I look around the corridor one last time before moving on, facing the stairs that lead further upward. 'Soarin, don't do this.' My mind echoes a tiny thought. It's funny. I could have sworn that my instincts were telling me not to walk up these stairs. But then again, this place is one of the most secure locations of all of Equestria. No harm can come to me, right?

Nope. Can't even see something that's so life threatening as to dismantle the guard to a spiral of chaos. It will take Queen Chrysalis herself to throw me off track of my duties. I took a quick breath, inhaling the vanilla scented air around me. It brought a blush to my face, it was so sweet. My cheeks began to glow red and my mouth was on the verge of watering. Unfortunately, all things, such as pleasant sensations, must come to an end. I exhaled a soft and collected sigh, bidding farewell to the aroma that was to grace my nostrils. I cleared my throat, took a step forward, and began my ascension.

'Soarin, don't do this.' And yet again the little voice inside was whispering those same words into the inner-workings of my brain. And once again, I chose to ignore it. Walking up the stairs isn't nearly as dangerous as falling down them. I would know, I broke my left wing and had to get a rod installed. I was decommissioned for a full six months before I could fly again. But that was in Manehattan, for one. Two: I was drunk after an awesome show, which also turned out to be my first. Yeah. I got fuckin' plastered all over the pavement that night. Three: I tried to climb up the stairs with a sexy mare in my hooves. And I was going to lay all the pipe in the city into dat ass. Four: I broke curfew, which was a BIG no-no. And five: With Spitfire being a jealous type, she told the mare to go home, we got into an argument, and she was going to tell the commander. I tried to stop her and instead got pushed down 14 flights of stairs... Owie.

Spitfire and I shortly forgave each other after that. She even stopped being so jealous afterward. I know. I know what you're thinking: What in the eternal tartarus was I even thinking of to pass up a smokin' hot flank like hers? The answer may actually surprise you. She was actually what you would call the 'ugly duckling' of the group at the time. Can you say teleprompter??? I swear she had one built into those Jurassic-sized glasses. She had braces that resembled a barbed wire fence on a war-torn Neighmandy Beach during Equiis War II. Her fashion sense was non existent. I know blind ponies who could match and color-code their outfits better than she could. But I can sum up her appearance during that time frame in a letter and two words: A. HOT. MESS.

Then sometime after that, she found a romantic interest. She was so happy that she couldn't stop talking about him. Hard mode: She kept bragging to me about how he could actually appreciate her 'natural beauty'. At breakfast, it was about how he woke her up in the morning and how he hugged her. At lunch, it was about how strong minded he was and how he was soooo caring *gag*. And at dinner, it was about how he would tell her how special she was to him. This carried on for about a full month before it all stopped. And by stopped, I meant CRASH LANDING.

He broke up with her soon after. This wasn't even the worst part. She kept telling us how they were 'taking some time off to refresh the interest'. And THAT wasn't even the worst of it. It turned out that Spits got knocked up by the guy, and that was when he had to play break-the-cutie by breaking up with her in front of everypony. And THAT wasn't even the worst of it. She had a miscarriage sometime during the third month after she found out about him going out with another mare. And HERE'S THE WORST OF IT. He took away her innocence, played her for a fool, embarrassed her in public, left her with a foal, dated another mare, did not check in on her after the doctors told her AND HIM about the miscarriage and then sold the pictures he took of her most intimate moments to playcolt magazine to pay off a bet on hoofball game. I called that little act 'The Aristocrats'. Yeah. FUCK! HIM!!!

I was absolutely livid with him. Just... thinking about it causes me to crack one of the stairs I was walking on. But Spits... she lost it. Everything. Her virginity, her first kiss, her first coltfriend, her first date, her dignity, her image, her light, her happiness... her sanity. I've never seen a mare so broken. Fractured bone is but a small price to pay versus a fractured mind so lost in subconsciousness that the body ceases to function. After we all saw the amateurs' section in the Playcolt Magazine issue for that month, we all stood in shock. This issue was the one she found due to the careless neglect of a horny doctor (probably an intern). She was looking through the magazine, telling herself that she had to look like one of them, the ones in the centerfolds. But as soon as she turned a few more pages, everything in her world came crashing down. A crash landing, to a nightmare-of-a-flight.

I stop walking up the stairs, now thinking about how she was so distraught. She dropped the magazine and she only stared into the air in front of her haunches covered in the white linen. You could literally hear the gears in her mind come to a grinding halt it was so quiet. We all saw the picture for ourselves. Needless to say, it was the most shameful boner I ever had in my lifetime.

It took her three days to come back to Equestria, and her return brought so many tears, so much wailing, so much pain. She even tried to find ways to kill herself. But I stood there, wanting to be around her. It was in that moment that I became the very thing she once bragged about. Before breakfast, I told her how beautiful she was that morning. During lunch, I fed her and told her that she was so special to me (and I actually meant it). And before bed, I told her that I will always be there for when she wakes up. Once, I even told her that I loved her, to see what her reaction would be. It wasn't good.

"HOW DARE YOU SAY YOU LOVE ME! YOU WEREN'T THERE FOR ME SOARIN!!! I WAS WITH HIM, THINKING ABOUT YOU! WHILE HE TOOK MY VIRGINITY, I WAS PRETENDING IT WAS YOU! I-I..." Her voice breaks. "...I bragged about him... in hopes that you would show me that I was wrong. I- *sniff* wanted you to say that to me... *hic* for so long. But not now, n-not like this... Not like this..."

'Not like this'. Those words, she kept repeating in between each tear she let fall from her cheeks. I held her in my hooves that whole entire day. Never leaving her. Being the protector, that I should have been this entire time. But I was to blinded by her outward appearance to even notice what she was soon to become. And a year after that day, I ate my heart out. Spits, who was the ugly duckling became, well... A FAUST DAMN EAGLE.

One year after those events, she shaped up, ditched the glasses for contacts, had her braces removed and started to gain her confidence back. And I meant she was better than just like new. She was a worldwide exclusive. I meant, DAT... ASS... WAS... SO... VOLUPTUOUS. Left fore-hoof came down and BAM! Curves, curves everywhere, cur- to the East, -ves to the West. A sexy face to the North and by now I was begging to go down South. I wanted to mount her so bad that I wanted to make sure she couldn't fly straight for the next performance.

So I started talking to her via letter. She said she was better than okay and I perceived it as such. Things kinda went back to normal for a while, that is until when the next issue of Playcolt Magazine came in the mailbox, which Cloud Burst poked fun at me for. Shortly after my shift ended, I locked the door to my office, kicked my hooves back, picked up the magazine and began to read.

"Hmm... Our mystery girl has the body of a goddess. She is also the centerfold of this issue..."

Ah. The mysterious centerfold. A staple to the magazine. They give you a list of girls going from the ranks of sevens, which gradually increases to eights, then slowly transitions to nines. But the centerfold was always a solid eleven-out-of-ten. Now every stallion knows that to truly enjoy the centerfold, one must work his way towards it. So I did just that.

Page 2: Index (skip)
Pages 3-5: Ads (skip)
Page 6: Increase your horn size to enhance her sexual experience (S-K-I-P)
Page 7: A Day in the Clouds.

"Oh yeah, here we go."

My hoof begins to slowly glide across my upper-abdomen. I begin to relax myself a little more. Man, I know this issue is gonna be so aweso-

*knock knock knock*

And I stuff the evidence into my stash drawer. I panicked and started to hide the bottle of hoof lotion, the napkins were placed in the in the file cabinet and the porn went into the very back, on the bottom of the magazine section. Quickly removing all signs of debauchery, fixing my uniform and ensuring that my mane was straight, I yell aloud.

"Come in!"

The door opens to reveal the mare that I haven't seen in over a year. I'm pretty sure whatever the centerfold had in store, Spits could out-do it in a single pose.

"Hey Spits! How's it be-"

"Commander Spitfire, Lieutenant Soarin. I've come here to check for contraband." She stated. By this time, I think she's just playing with me.

"Aww c'mon Spits, what do I-"

"COMMANDER SPITFIRE! And you will address me as such." This time she shows me the medals and ribbons on her uniform.

"B-but... h-h-how did you... you... What the fuck?!?" If my jaw could drop any lower, it would reach the other side of the globe. I couldn't believe it. She was promoted to Commander.

"Long story, Lieutenant. One I will tell you later." She looks off to the side. Her features have softened over such a short period of time. I wanted to take a gamble and get closer. But before the thought had finished processing...

"But that's aside from why I am here Lieutenant. I have checked in with the mail ponies and they have verified a magazine that was NOT within the guidelines of the Code of Conduct."

Damn, she got me.

"I also checked on who the recipient might have been. And all signs point to you, Lieutenant."

She got me good.

"So where is it?" She was trying to be stern, and it wasn't exactly working. You know that feeling when you know someone personally for a while and you both get into a business setting? You tend to not take them as seriously because you actually know them. Well that's what happened. And boy was I wrong in thinking so.

About five minutes later, she ripped apart my desk and found my stash without so much as a minor struggle. She then pulls up the magazine and shakes it in front of me.

"What is this?" She was pissed.

"..." I couldn't even say anything.

"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS LIEUTENANT!?"

"...A magazine..." I answered in defeat.

"WHAT kind of magazine?"

"...A dirty magazine, Commander."

"Which in definition is considered as..."

"...contraband."

"Right. So what the fuck is this doing here?"

I'm now struggling to find some words to place in my defense. "W-well... you see..."

"Is this what you want Soarin?"

"..." I am now frozen in place.

"Is this what you think of every time you say you love a mare?"

My defense starts to build. "N-no. I don't think of these thi-"

"Wow. And here I came to think you would've truly matured past this from a year ago. I was wrong, as usual." She begins to crumple up the magazine in her hooves. At this point, I began to think back to that day we found her pictures in the infamous issue of Playcolt.

"I guess all stallions do think alike. Sex. Is that all you want?"

"N-No Spits. I-I didn't mean to-" And I'm cut off again.

"So you want a mare who can look like the mares in these magazines? Ok, well let me tell you something..."

She begins to tear away the cover page. The shards of paper begin to fly.

"Fuck..." The ads are nothing more than confetti for the floor below.

"...your..." She rips apart every mare picture, starting from the sevens in the lingerie section. And now the eights in the soft-core section. I almost begin to shed tears when she starts on the nines. The nines were the hardcore mares that led up to the big climatic centerfold.

"...SHIT!" She rips out the centerfold. My mind is in total chaos as I watched the massacre take place. All the hottest mares, now nothing more than a pile of art supplies for a foal's first collage. I almost panic as she tears away the seals to the centerfold. One by one, the paper seals that held the fold closed were broken in a series of pops and crackles. Soon, she finished tearing away at all the seals and the paper began to unfold itself as she held on to it in midair. I saw the page as it unfolded before me, or rather the text of the page, as it was introducing the mare of the month.

The paper slowly unfolded and continued as Spits seethed in anger behind it. Her breathing became heavy, and her eyes began to water. I've seen that exact same face a year ago and I didn't like it too much even now.

"This is what you want to see?" She said as her voice began to break. She looked up and down the model on the page she was looking at. "This is what you imagine me as?" Her tears began to flow freely from the corner of her eyes. "So all I ever was, to you, was an object for you to have your way with. I'm just a release for you? Aren't I?"

"I never said that, Spits. But over the past year, I've been looking forward to seeing you again. I wanted to spend time with you. I wanted to-"

"YOU'RE TOO, FUCKING LATE SOARIN! I wanted you from the start. But ever since you saw me in that FUCKING magazine, suddenly you love me? Well tell me this. Why wasn't you the one to take my first kiss, my FUCKING virginity? I was saving it for you... and only you. HE had to force me to give it up. Why did it have to be his child I miscarriaged? You weren't there, Soarin, YOU WEREN'T FUCKING TH-"

"LIKE HELL I WASN'T THERE! I was the one who held you. EVERY. FUCKING. NIGHT! You were trying to kill yourself. And I was there to tell you that you meant so much to me!" Tears flowed freely from my eyes without restraint. "How DARE you accuse me of not being in your corner. When the fight got tough and you wanted to throw in the towel, I was there. When he broke up with you, I was there. When you were pregnant, I was there. When you had the miscarriage, I. WAS. THERE! When you saw those pictures, I held on to you, to ensure that you could get back up from the fall. I'm sure that HE wasn't there to see you through this shit, NOW WAS H-" I was interrupted by a hoof to the jaw.

I tumbled to the ground due to the immense force that her hoof had drove into my chin. I was so angry that I opted to hit her back. But when I turned to raise my hoof, I saw her. She was... crying, in full force might I add.

"You. Son of a BITCH! I FUCKING HATE YOU!!! GO JUMP OFF A CLIFF AND JUST... JUST..."

"Just what, Spits. JUST! FUCKING! WHAAAAAAAAAT!"

"...just... go die... like He did." Spitfire whispered in a broken tone. She only began to sob profusely. I could not say anything anymore. I didn't know... I-I just...

"Spits... H-hey, look-look at me Spits... I'm sorry. I... I-I didn't mean to-" I tried to think of what to say next. But instead, she just ran at a full gallop out of the office. I could only hear her screams, which were more-or-less directed at me down the hallway. I just stood there. I didn't even know what all had just transpired. Just silence. Now my office was a mess, my relationship with Spits was a mess, and I couldn't find the broom. The only thing I could remotely find that was still in one piece was the centerfold from the Playcolt magazine. It was lying text-side-up. I went to pick it up and throw it away, being a start to clean up this mess. But what I saw had me at a loss of words.

The centerfold had a picture of a yellow mare in black, lacy lingerie with a riding crop in her mouth. The bottom of the lingerie was partially see-through. Adorning her flank was a white and silver flame that seemed to engulf everything it touches. A mane of yellow, orange and red highlights. No question about it.

It was Spitfire...

It all seems so fresh now. I can't ever stop thinking how our friendship ended that day. I feel so stupid for saying some of the things I've said. Now I want to do everything in my power to make it up to her. Even though my chances of a relationship with her is practically non-existent, I still want her to be my friend. We can't exactly start over either. We've trained together, we graduated from the academy together, we fought together, performed together, even cried together. After all of that, I can't just erase years of history by just saying 'Hey. I'm sorry about everything. Can we start from square 1 again?' I want to, Faust knows I do, But I just can't.

But I can't let our friendship stay on the ropes like this. And I certainly won't get anywhere with it if I just stand here on these stairs. Now let us continue, shall we?

'Soarin, don't do this.'

... I take a deep breath. Inhaling guilt and uncertainty, and exhaling confidence and determination.

I WILL do this. For my friendship. For Spits. And more importantly, for me. One by one, stair by stair, I climb to the highest level. Taking a step at a time, I walk until I reach a door with the Wonderbolt crest set upon the door frame. I can only imagine my punishment for my little blunder this afternoon. As I reach a hoof from the ground to knock on the door, the door begins to open. I'm somewhat startled by the timing but Cumulus Flash was walking out of the office.

"Yes ma'am. I'll have it done the end of this weekend." Cumulus declares with a sense of urgency. "Oh, hey Soarin! Did you write your last will and testament?"

"Ha ha." I deadpanned. "I almost forgot to laugh."

"LIEUTENANT! IN MY OFFICE! NOW!" I gulp when I hear those words. Cumulus, however, chuckles to himself. We would normally share a laugh but I was withholding my enthusiasm at the moment. I only complied at the order. Shush Soarin, no tears... Only dreams now.

I enter the office to find the Commander at her desk, facing the window. She appears to be looking through the half-closed blinds, into the sky.

"Close the door Lieutenant." I close the door without a word. A click sounds the completion of the mundane task.

"..." She says nothing. I only move to the position of attention. And I stand there for what seems like ages. The only sound that is heard is the sound of soft, reserved inhales, the humming of the lights above, and the quiet exhales made shortly after. I open my mouth to say something, but she begins to speak.

"What does it mean to fly, Soarin?" It was a rhetorical question. So I didn't answer. "What does it feel like to ignore the weight of the world below you?" She pauses. A silence soon follows as we answer the question for ourselves. "Now what would happen if that birthright was taken away from you in the blink of an eye? What happens when the wings you so cherished, were then separated from you? What if in the end you were left with only one wing? What would you do? How would you feel? What would be your new goals in life?"

All of these questions pierces into my very soul. How would I react? Flying is all I ever wanted to do in life. If that was taken away from me, then I would have nothing to truly live for. I can only stand in silence.

"What if I told you that there was a pegasus who didn't follow orders? That went ahead without a care in the world, wanting to play hero? And that hero, who saved an entire platoon from an untimely fate, placed him or herself in a predicament in which he or she could easily die? What if then, his or her commander flew in to save them? Sure the hero could have a few scars and bruises, but what about the Commander who saved the hero passes out from blood loss? Blood loss that was the result of a severed wing."

I can only wince at the thought. I can't even begin to imagine if it happened to me. I look towards the ground in a moment of reflection. Commander Spitfire still looking through the glass.

"You're supposed to be at the position of attention, Lieutenant." I snap back into attention. Head straight, eyes forward and wings snapped in the folded-rest position parallel to the ground. "I told you this because I was the one to play the hero. And as a result, my commander got the worst of it. Because a commander protects his own from harm. Now I know what you did on the train was very charitable. But those seats were paid for by the Equestrian Special Forces Division, the military's money. So you'll be working that off."

Wait. That's it? That's my big punishment? Hell, I'd be able to reimburse that in cash by the end of the business day.

"Now I know what you're thinking about Soarin. But that isn't how it's going to be." She adds.

Dammit.

"If you were going to be punished like that, then you'll never learn that way." She does have a point. "So I'm going to have you on clean-up detail."

"Permission to speak freely, Commander?" I ask.

"...Permission granted."

Here it goes. 'Soarin, don't do this.' No. I'm doing this. Shut up brain. Lobs of jelly fat populated with billions of nerve endings are not going to determine what I feel in my heart, let alone close them out.

"Spi- *ahem* ma'am. No. Spitfire, can I ask you a personal question."

"This isn't protocol, Soarin."

"Damn the protocol, hear me out. Not as one who ranks below you, but one who seeks answers."

"..." I think I just heard the foundations of the planet snap in two. "...I'm listening." Or maybe not.

"Spitfire, I just... ya know... wanna... see if we could... start ove-"

"No." Welp. That was it. I got my answer. Now let pack up and go home... If only it were that easy.

"Please Spitfire, I don't want us to be like this. I don't want us to lose out on the history we have."

"And I don't want to re-live that history Soarin."

"And why not? Am I so bad that you'd purposely write me out of your life?"

"...Soarin."

"Tell me Spits."

"Please Soarin..."

"The truth. That's all I want."

"No, just... no."

"If you tell me the truth right here and now, I will walk out that door, and forget anything past the punishment being issued. We'll never speak of it again. If fact if you want, it will be as if it never even happened."

"Shut up Soarin. You're being a total idiot."

"Please."

"...I-I... don't want to re-live the past. It's not because of you. It's because of me. It's because I'm scared..."

"Scared of what, Spits?"

"That's it. Right there. Every time you call me Spits, something inside of me screams your name. Soarin, Soarin, Soarin. That was all I heard in my heart the year I went into rehab. It was all I wanted. Since the day we met, all I've ever wanted was you. But after all that's happened with me, I'm scared. It's not you I'm scared of, it's you and me."

"...I don't follow."

"Soarin. I can't let us become something. I want us to exist. I need us to become something. But my one fear is falling in love with you all over again. I'll stare down griffons, manticores, and dragons, but I am scared of loving you. I don't wanna even think of the day that I start to love you so much, that I'll blindly follow you to the ends of Equestria. I don't want to re-live the days that I'd want you to be mine and mine only..."

She runs to me, nuzzling me below my chin, panting quickened breaths, breaths that in a rhythm begin to whisper my name. I can smell the cinnamon in her mane. I can taste the very air she exhales. It tastes of an undying lust. She halts her desperate movements, raising her head to look upon me. Now we are staring directly into each other's eyes. A golden ring of fire longing to engulf my gaze, begins to probe into my very thoughts. I close the space between us as our muzzles begin to touch. And for a blessed eternity, our breaths became one. Our cheeks blushed a deepening crimson. Our blood began to boil in a cauldron of untamed desires, broken hearts, and kindled revivals. A potion of unbridled longing began to drive us to the point of no return.

Slowly the distance between our lips began to close. Inches no longer, they became centimeters. Centimeters then became millimeters. And for a millisecond, our very flesh united for the first time, not on purpose, but by mere chance. I was lost. I desired more. And yet, of my own misfortune, she turns away as the tears began to stream down her rose-colored cheeks.

"... but I can't. I can't Soarin. If I do, I'll end up hurting you. I'll end up being so angrily in love with you, that I will come close to ending your life. I've already broken your wing."

"But it's healed now, Spits. I don't wan't that to come between our friendship." At that very word, she found a bittersweet optimism.

"So we're friends?" She asked.

"Yes. I've always seen you as such. I'm sorry that-"

"I won't start over. I especially can't fall in love with you. But being friends is fine." Why did she say that last part as if we had broken up just now?

"You got a deal. Friends?" I ask her while extending my hooves in an expectation to hug her.

"Yeah, friends. But I can't hug you right now Lieutenant." She begins to rub her fore-hooves together, looking to the side blushing.

"Aww, why not?" I asked while slowly dropping my hooves back unto the ground in disappointment.

"Because if I hugged you now, then I'd be bent over that desk pretty soon."

ffffffffffffFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU...

"...Oh...dammit."

"Did you say something, Lieutenant?" Soarin teased.

"N-nothing at all Commander." I. Am. PISSED. "Hug offer still stands though."

"Hmm... I'll tell you what. Whenever I have a rough day and I'm pretty exhausted, I'll take you up on that offer. Deal?"

Defeat, thy name is Soarin. "Deal. So where is this 'clean-up' that I'm assigned to?"

"Oh yeah. You'll be assisting with the Winter Wrap-Up in Ponyville." She declares.

"...Ponyville?" Ponyville, where the snow caresses my haunches in all of it's frostbite glory.

ffffffffffffffffffFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU...

"Payback's a bitch, eh Soarin?" Spitfire mumbles.

...To be continued...

Author's Note

Decided to do this chapter in 3 parts instead of the the 2 parters I originally had planned. Criticism and comments are greatly appreciated. Trolls should bite the pillow. I'm going in dry.