Helping and hurting. A fine line, indeed. How could one know the difference? What could blind one to all the terrible things hidden behind chivalrous acts? Many ponies carry out their good deeds never knowing the harm they’d cause. And very few are wise enough—caring enough—to see it.
But what of those who’ve realized too late? What of those who had given, and given, only to watch loved ones crumble? What of those who knew—knew they were hurting those they wished to help—wanted nothing more than to fix it? To undo their mistake, and somehow start over?
Twilight Sparkle was some such pony. With every splash of mud, every crackle of thunder, Twilight would ignore the urge to collapse. She raced against the rain, sharp breaths hissing between her teeth. She could only hope it wasn’t too late. And once she had reached her goal, legs and lungs begging for rest, Twilight hoped even harder. A lot harder. Her chest burned as she quieted her shallow breaths. Her legs gave a weak pop as she silenced her steps.
But from the moment her hoof hit the sloshy mud, Twilight winced her eyes shut. She had not meant to be so loud. She had not meant to be discovered. Her eyes peeled open, vision tormented by the rain. And what she saw worried her evermore. It hadn’t moved. The blur of white, a beacon in the darkness, hadn’t moved since Twilight’s noisy entrance.
She she’d been made, Twilight thought. And her unacknowledged presence brought her soppy hoof-steps forward. Slowly. Cautiously.
“Rarity?” Twilight called out, her voice as gentle as the rain. “Rarity, it’s me.”
She received only silence and the same backside that greeted her. Twilight caught her trembling lip by the teeth, stepping nearer, frosted blood beating in her veins.
“Rarity?”
A response was gained, shoulders jumping to rigid attention. The gesture stilled Twilight’s advance, unsure to continue. There, the two unicorns bathed in Nature’s tears, both manes weighted to their coats.
“Twilight…” Rarity voice was carried by the merciful wind, fond and peaceful. “I had… wished that you wouldn’t see me like this.”
Twilight took a step forward. Rarity did the same. “Don’t come any closer.” Rarity commanded sharply.
Twilight obeyed, her teeth driving further into her lips. “Rarity… Please?” she besought, not unlike a begging filly.
“Just answer me one thing, Twilight,“ Rarity said, her head lifting against the crying sky. “Did you truly ever believe I could find it? Love?”
“Yes!” Twilight shouted, ignoring the painful stab in her chest. “I would have never tried so hard to help, otherwise!”
A cold, pitiless laugh escaped into the cloudy downpour. “I… I imagine that to be an adequate reason,” Rarity said.
Twilight took a gamble, and another step forward. “I said stay back!” Rarity barked, freezing the other unicorn again.
Twilight’s fur needled on her neck as she heard rocks crumble from the edge. The edge holding her beacon high above jagged rocks. Almost taunting her, daring her to take one more step. In her panic, Twilight almost did.
“Rarity.” Twilight forced an edge to her voice. “Rarity, turn and look at me.”
Rarity complied with surprising lack of rebellion. But Twilight recoiled at the inky stains leaking from puffy eyelids. Defeated. Empty. Dead. Twilight shuddered the fear away, locking a firm gaze into those eyes.
“I helped you because I believed… I believed you could be loved,” Twilight said, squinting her blasted tears back. “And I still do.”
Another hallowed laughter twisted Twilight’s spine. “Perhaps that’s why I let you convince me to go through with it,” Rarity muttered. “Perhaps I believed it as much as you do.”
Twilight’s flesh jumped with a clap of deafening thunder, as Rarity remained deathly still.
“Let’s face it, Twilight,” Rarity continued. “I’m the oldest among us, and still, I failed. I had the most wonderful friends a mare could ask for, and still, I failed. If I can’t find love among those closest to me-”
“Rarity!” Twilight shouted, instantly softening at her friend’s whiny retreat. “Rarity. We do love you. You know that.”
“It’s…” Rarity shivered, her words crumbling into pathetic squeaks. “It’s not the same thing, Twilight! But I told you that, and you pretended to listen!”
“No!” Twilight protested.
“I believed you!” Rarity screamed in fresh tears. “You convinced me to confess to each of them, and I trusted you! This is your fault Twilight!”
Rarity drew a sharp gasp at the other unicorn’s falling tears. “You can’t Rarity…” Twilight sobbed. “You can’t go before taking one more chance?”
Rarity took another step back, her hoof peeking from beyond the rocking cliff. “What… What are you saying?”
Twilight took another daring step, and Rarity recoiled, trembling at the thought of a stomach-caving descent.
“You think I wanted this for you? You think I wanted you to cry yourself to sleep after every rejection?” Twilight fell into a shudder fit of her own. “You think I didn’t want to take all the pain away?”
Then there was silence. Disturbed only by the padding rain, the whistling wind. Rarity could only stand there, forgetting where she stood, forgetting the rain sleeking her coat, forgetting why she was even there to begin with. She would exhale husky breaths, trying to kill her sobs. She would try again and again, until finally the words hanging behind her lips came.
“I hate you…”
Twilight nearly doubled over, staring at Rarity like her eyes bled.
“I hate you…” Rarity repeated, her steps suddenly guiding her from the edge.
Twilight smiled. By the stars, she smiled the happiest smile as Rarity retreated from that summit, screaming those three words over and over again. And Twilight’s tears fell even harder, gazing unto cerulean eyes that screamed the exact opposite.
Helping and hurting. A fine line indeed. And on this day--and hopefully many others--Twilight could call it a wonderful thing.
Author's Note
This was a lovely shorty from the Thirty Minute Pony Prompt: "A Beautiful Heart". I chalked it up a bit, cleaned it. And brought you this thousand word dark-fluff. Tremble before the magnificence. Tremble, I say.
Craine...
