Ch.04 (Part B)- If it can't be patched.
Spitfire felt a dampness forming in the corner of her eyes. "But-If Patch can't fix him, who can?" asked Spitfire. She already knew the answer, but if there was even the slightest chance of being wrong, it was more than worth asking.
Sky Screamer, as stone-hearted as he was, still had a hard time looking into Spitfire's wet eyes. He answered solemnly, "Nopony can. I'm sorry."
Spitfire didn't know what else to say. She said nothing while her face became invaded by tears. Sky Screamer turned to Spitfire. "I think the other Wonderbolts should know about this. It will be unfair to hold-off telling them."
Spitfire nodded, and Sky Screamer knew that given Spitfire's state, he would be the one to break the news to the other Wonderbolts. Sky Screamer approached the field where the other Wonderbolts were casually chit-chatting.
Spitfire was left alone with Rapidfire. Though neither of them knew what to say to the other. They both shared each other's sorrow. They sat down next to each other as Spitfire buried her head into Rapidfire's shoulder. Rapidfire wrapped his front hoof around Spitfire, and just its gentle squeeze gave her more reassurance than what Sky Screamer had.
Once the attention of the Wonderbolts was shifted to Sky Screamer, the other Wonderbolts noticed Spitfire, and Rapidfire off to the side of the field, and could only brace themselves for the most dreadful news.
Sky Screamer cleared his throat. "None of us could have anticipated that the day of the race—just moments before—we were going to lose a team member. This morning, it was discovered that Soarin' had passed away last night in his sleep. His death was painless, but I'm sure this news is hard on us all. A funeral will be held in his honor. Though the date has not yet been determined, we will be sure to give him the send-off he deserves..."
The other Wonderbolts were all caught off guard, and not a single one dared to make a sound. They all shared a sense of concern through the speech.
Sky Screamer went on. "...At this moment, I understand if anypony has changed their minds about racing today. Nopony will be required to race, and I perfectly understand if anypony chooses not to. But I also want to say that there will be no disrespect towards anypony that chooses to race. Soarin' was known for his desire to race, even on his worst days. He would have wanted to see his fellow team succeed even after his final moment. He will be honored to know his influence impacted the Wonderbolts even after he left; to know that his friends flew with more pride than they ever had on the day that he died. However you choose to respect him in death is up to you. We're going to conclude warm-up, but anypony that still wants to race just has to show up at the track by ten-thirty. None of you have to decide right away. I encourage you to look towards your fellow teammates for comfort... Thank you for listening."
Sky Screamer turned around and walked up to Spitfire and Rapidfire. "Take care of yourselves," he said before walking off the field.
Though the warm-up concluded, none of the Wonderbolts left the field. They all stood with a similar sense of confusion.
Eventually, Rapidfire finally asked Spitfire, "What do we do now?"
It took Spitfire a moment before finally answering, "I don't know, but I think I need to be alone."
Rapidfire nodded. "Okay... Are you sure?"
"Yeah," Spitfire replied. She was grateful for the comfort Rapidfire offered, and her wanting to leave had nothing to do with Rapidfire, but It felt uncomfortable for her to be in a vulnerable state in front of the entire Wonderbolt team when she was suppose to be a leader.
"Wait," Rapidfire called out stopping Spitfire in her tracks. "Are you sure you're gonna be okay?"
Spitfire answered in a quite, stale tone, "Yeah... I'll be okay." Spitfire had no idea if she would be okay or not. Never has she felt this way before, but she said what she needed to in order to be left alone.
Spitfire dragged her hooves all the way back to her room. The most she lifted her head was when she reached to open the door.
Inside her room, Spitfire stared out the window. Maybe the weather ponies knew of the event, or maybe it was just a coincidence, but the clouds above were turning a light gray, and looked like they could start raining at any moment.
Inside her head, she could only think about Soarin'. She couldn't understand what could cause a young, healthy, male to die in his sleep. She thought to herself, Soarin' always had such a lively personality, why would fate get the better of him? Though their relationship felt a little lust-driven, Soarin' was the one pony she felt like she could never live without. She always felt a little awkward when it came to dating other ponies, but her time with Soarin' felt more natural than any other colt she's been with, even though it was the most complex of them all.
Had she only known that the last time they saw each other was going to be the last time, she never would have let him leave. Though she didn't know, she couldn't help regret the things she didn't do the last time they met.
She dwelt on why she never said 'I love you' to Soarin'. It became one of her biggest regrets. She felt happier with him than with anypony else, and she said those words to much more appalling colts before. Though she felt the words more than ever with him, they just never came out.
Spitfire's thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. It sounded with the same light patters as when Soarin' had knocked the past night. Spitfire recognized the similarity of the sound instantly. She leaped toward the door from excitement, and thrashed the door open—praying to see Soarin'.
On the other side of the door, Fleetfoot, who was caught off guard by Spitfire's spontaneity, flinched from the abrupt opening of the door. After seeing Fleetfoot, Spitfire's excitement immediately vanished. She realized just how foolish she was to think Soarin' would actually be at her door, and her body instantly felt heavier from sorrows her posture resumed upon carrying.
Fleetfoot hesitated slightly before greeting, "Hey. I hope I'm not bothering you."
"No... Not at all," Spitfire said solemnly.
"I... Well, I was kinda wondering if we can talk," said Fleetfoot nervously waiting for permission.
"Uh, sure." Spitfire hesitantly let Fleetfoot through the door, closed the door behind her, and conversed with Fleetfoot in the middle of the room.
Fleetfoot stated with disappointment, "This whole thing has just been so... unexpected."
"I couldn't agree more," Spitfire said while refusing to make eye contact, "I don't think anypony could have seen this coming." She climbed on top of her bed and laid flat on her side with her hooves hanging off the edge. She was on top of the covers, and her head was still facing Fleetfoot. She wasn't getting ready to sleep, but she was getting in a comfortable, yet restful position.
Fleetfoot looked down at her hooves. "So what are we suppose to do?" she asked.
Spitfire shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know, but the mini-bar never looked so tempting."
Fleetfoot looked back at Spitfire. "Well, I've been thinking a lot about what Sky Screamer said, and whether or not to race. I figured if anypony knew what Soarin' would have wanted, it would be you—not Sky Screamer. What do you think Soarin' would have wanted?"
"I don't know, but I think what Sky Screamer said felt true," said Spitfire.
"So... are you going to race?" Fleetfoot asked.
Spitfire pondered for a moment, then sighed. She buried her face into her front hooves. "I don't think I can. Soarin' joined the Wonderbolts the same year I did, and he never missed a race in his career. It's just too soon for my first race without him."
Fleetfoot lowered her eyes. "I never thought of it like that. He was at the starting line of every race I've been in."
"Mine too... For all seven years," Spitfire groaned.
"So, you're not going to race?" Fleetfoot asked.
"No." said Spitfire.
Both ponies stayed silent for a moment, until Fleetfoot asked, "Should I not race either?"
Spitfire removed her hooves from her face, and made eye-contact with Fleetfoot for the first time since she opened the door. Spitfire lifted herself off her side and into an upright sitting position on the bed. "That depends," said Spitfire. "Do you want to race?"
Fleetfoot shrugged. "I don't know. What would Soarin' want me to do?"
"Soarin' would have wanted you to do what you want to do."
Fleetfoot thought about what she really wanted. She looked up as she searched her brain. She acted like she was looking to the sky for the answer, but she was really looking at the ceiling. Once she had her answer, she looked back at Spitfire. "I want to thank Soarin' for being such an amazing teammate, but how can I do that now?"
Spitfire shrugged. "You could always show him how he made you a better Wonderbolt."
Fleetfoot tried to confirm Spitfire's vague response. "So... race?" she asked.
"Only if it's what you want," replied Spitfire.
Fleetfoot had mixed feelings. "I kinda do, but I'm nervous that I'll disappoint him. This is suppose to be the hardest race I've been to, and the last thing I want to do is make him think his help didn't make a difference if I don't win."
Spitfire stepped off the bed and placed a reassuring hoof on Fleetfoot's shoulder. "Neither Soarin', you, or I have ever won every race we've gone to—or the majority for that matter. Soarin' never judged a pony by how often they won. It was always about how much pride they raced with. I know you; you won't disappoint him."
Spitfire removed her hoof from Fleetfoot's shoulder. Fleetfoot nodded, and replied with enthusiasm. "Okay. I'll race. I'll make Soarin' proud!"
"No. Don't," said Spitfire, putting an abrupt end to Fleetfoot's brief enthusiasm.
"Excuse me?" asked Fleetfoot.
Spitfire elaborated, "Never try to make a Wonderbolt proud. Make yourself proud, and the Wonderbolts will be proud for you." Spitfire first heard that same advice during her rookie years on the Wonderbolts—back when she use to be a lot like Fleetfoot. She forgot who told it to her, but she never forgot the words.
Spitfire watched as Fleetfoot's nose twitched and her face furrowed while her perspective adjusted to the new advice her mind was processing. "Alright," said Fleetfoot. "Thanks." Fleetfoot gave Spitfire a friendly hug before she left.