Shards of glass, plastic, wood, and ceramic lay all across the floor. Applejack could do nothing except stare in stunned silence at the widespread devastation. What had once been the Apple family's holiday ornaments were now a broken, mangled mess - and it was all Applejack's doing.
She wanted to blame someone else. Rainbow Dash was probably running around at hyper speed again somewhere, or Twilight was using her telekinesis to do fourteen tasks at once. Their abuse of the magic had caused a surge, spiking Applejack's strength at just the wrong time.
That was just an excuse, though. Maybe one of her friends had played a role, but the fact of the matter was that it was Applejack's abruptly super-strong hands that crushed the box of ornaments like a soda can under a mule.
In a few hours, the rest of the family would be returning from visiting Goldie Delicious and they would see the damage. The holiday would be ruined. Decorating the tree would be impossible, and there was no fixing–
Applejack's eyes widened with realization and she grabbed for her phone.
Thankfully Rarity never hesitated when a friend called and asked for help, even if it was just two days out and in prime shopping (or in Rarity's case, being seen pretending to shop) season. Being there when needed was simply her nature. Then again so was too much drama, and she had been surprisingly subdued when Applejack related the situation to her. (Not that Applejack was complaining about that - time was short enough without wasting time listening to Rarity gasp and lament.)
The door of the Apple home thumped open as she arrived with aplomb - and a massive bag of gear. "FEAR NOT! FOR I, RARITY, SHALL SAVE THIS HOLIDAY!"
Applejack politely applauded for about three seconds.
Rarity bowed.
"Can we get to work now?" Applejack motioned to the pile of debris she had spread out on the dining room table.
"Yes, quite." Rarity took off her snow-covered boots. "Thank you for indulging me. I just needed to get it out of my system, darling."
Her bag unpacked into a plethora of tools: tape, clamps, thread, six different types of glue, tweezers and far more. They were spread out on a side table for ease of access, alongside two mugs of steaming cocoa and a few holiday cookies. With authority, Rarity slammed her red-rimmed glasses on. "Let's get to work. Did you have any order to these, or is it just how they fell?"
Applejack looked at the mess and frowned. "Mostly where they fell? Ah couldn't keep it totally straight after gettin' them off the floor, but most of any particular ornament's bits are near its other bits." The frown deepened. "...Ah think."
With a heavy sigh, Rarity started picking up shards. "I'll start on this end, then. You work over there. I know that precision isn't your speciality, so focus on getting pieces of the same material type together. Most ornaments are made out of one type, so ceramic should match ceramic and so on."
It was slow, painstaking work. A few of the broken ornaments were only in a couple of pieces, and most of the metal ones were simply bent rather than broken. But beyond that, it was a task for tweezers and superglue.
Rarity was leaning over a chunk of broken pottery that - now that it was mostly together again - was shaped like a fish. It was very roughly molded and obviously made by a child's hands, but there was a certain quaint appeal to it. The back had a partially broken signature scraped into the clay by a toothpick - 'Intosh, Age 8' told plenty of story just on its own. Another chunk was carefully levered into place, adding the 'Mac' in front. "Hmm." She picked up the jeweler's loupe she'd brought, making a closer inspection to ensure it was properly in line. Then, satisfied, Rarity pulled back to let the glue set.
Applejack leaned over from the pile of glass shards she was trying to sort that once had been fragile balls of red and green. "Lookin' mighty good there."
A smile played over Rarity's face. "Yes, well, I'm no miracle worker but fine detail work is rather in my wheelhouse. It shan't be perfect, but I expect most of these will be at least passable by the time your family gets home." She connected another piece to the fish, completing it once more. "I fear most of the glass ornaments are a lost cause, as they're too delicate to rebuild. But with a little luck, I would say we could save half of what was in the box." A glance to Applejack. "I'm dreadfully sorry about the rest. Perhaps we could rush out, buy some replacements, and hope they don't notice?"
With a shake of her head, Applejack shot that idea down. "Ah'm gonna tell 'em as soon as they're home. Even if Bloom's a bit thick sometimes, Granny's not stupid and neither's Mac." She held up a shard of glass, examining it before putting it into a similar pile. "This wasn't to hide what happened - Ah just didn't want to ruin the holiday. The tree wouldn't be the same without any decorations."
Rarity frowned a little. "Well, I suppose that's a fair point. Too many of these look rather personal and bespoke - as I would expect - so any damage would be difficult to miss."
"More or less all of 'em are personal," Applejack confirmed. "Apples don't really do much of the store bought stuff." She held up another shard. "Even most've these glass ones got blown by family members at some point."
Grasping at that and eager for a little distraction, Rarity quickly steered the subject further down that road. "Well then! Why don't you tell me about them?" She held up the mostly completed fish. "This one, for example! I'm certain there's a fascinating story behind it. Why is it a fish? What does that symbolize? The story of its creation must be quite endearing."
Applejack chuckled. "There's nothin'."
"...Nothing?"
"Not a thing," Applejack repeated as she peeled away from the table to start a new pot of hot water for cocoa - the two mugs were both nearly drained. "Mac was just really into fish that year."
Rarity sputtered over the sound of the burner clicking to life. Desperately trying to salvage her line of thought, she grabbed another ornament. This one was mostly intact - a small plastic church. The steeple had broken off (and been re-glued) and the only remaining repair was replacing the broken bulb inside of it. "Well what about this one? This is store-bought rather than hand-made, so there has to be a story behind it!"
Applejack's face darkened. "Was kinda hopin' you couldn't fix that one."
When Rarity didn't respond beyond a look of confusion, Applejack continued. "It's… from a bad time," she explained as she mixed the cocoa powder and sugar into the pot. "See, my parents - you know we lost 'em late in the year. Not the holidays, but close enough that everybody was hurtin' still when the time came. And Granny, well. She tried. But much as she did her best for us kids, she was hurtin' too." Applejack paused to chuckle darkly. "Stubborn does run deep in the Apple heartwood, y'know."
Having set aside the plastic church and started to piece together a ceramic snowman, Rarity smiled mostly to herself. "I have had the pleasure of encountering that trait once or twice, yes."
"Well that first winter, Granny wanted real bad to make sure we had a good holiday. Or at least a normal one." Applejack slowly moved her whisk around the pot, mixing and stirring the cocoa. "Thing was, she couldn't do it on her own. Even past all the paperwork and the lawyers, Granny was juggling two angry kids, a screamin' newborn, and still hadn't got the chance to cry."
A part of Rarity wanted to ask why the rest of the family - or at least the neighbors - hadn't helped out. But she also knew the answer was that they had tried, and the Apple stubborn pride had kicked in.
The whisking paused as Applejack added some milk to the mixture. "So that year, she cut corners. She had to. Because she was only human, even if we didn't realize it back then." A light sprinkle of salt. "So store bought, for a bunch of kids who never did things store bought."
There was a moment of pause before Rarity volunteered to fill in the blank. "You threw it back in her face, didn't you."
"We threw it all right back in her face," Applejack confirmed with grim frustration. "We were young and stupid. So instead of appreciating all the work she did, we whined and complained about her neglecting us or how it wasn't as good as what we had the year before." She stopped her stirring, hand white-knuckle on the whisk even though her voice stayed rock solidly even. "Then Ah told her she was disrespectin' family traditions by not doin' what Ma and Pa would've wanted."
The tweezers fell out of Rarity's suddenly numb fingers.
"An' that was the first time Ah ever saw Granny Smith cry." Slowly, Applejack resumed her stirring. She didn't look away from the pot. Didn't dare.
Things were silent for far too long before she started speaking once more. "So yeah. Not the best holiday memories attached to that one. But at the same time, Ah kinda feel like it should stay. Remind me of the mistakes Ah made back then."
A pale and delicate hand set on Applejack's stirring shoulder. "You aren't a child anymore," Rarity pointed out softly. And then she definitively closed the debate by sticking the tiny ornament - held by the steeple with tweezers - into the stovetop's flame. The white plastic blackened and charred almost instantly. After three seconds, it had deformed to an unrecognizable lump.
Applejack opened her mouth to say something - but no words came out. She just watched Rarity set the melted ornament on the spoon rest to cool.
"Memories like that," she noted as she returned to her seat, "Do not deserve to be remembered."
And that was that. Even if Applejack objected, the ornament was beyond recovery.
Neither of them spoke again until the cocoa was done and Applejack brought it over the table. She sat on the far side near the sorting piles, staring at it all as Rarity took up her mug. Her hum of pleasure made clear her opinion on the cocoa's quality, and after a few sips it was set aside so she could resume rebuilding a tiny wooden hobby horse.
"Should be mad at you." Applejack slowly rotated her mug on the table, spinning it in place. "That wasn't your choice to make."
Rarity didn't bat an eye at the even-toned admonishment. (She couldn't - she had the loupe in again.) Her own response was just as matter-of-fact. "One does not allow a friend to stick their hand on a hot stove. Be cross if you must but I do not regret it, nor would I hesitate to do it a second time."
Applejack quietly chuckled at the no nonsense rebuttal. "...thanks."
"You're quite welcome."
Both puttered at the table for a time, with Applejack sorting the remaining pieces into piles and Rarity finishing the wooden horse. Taking up some of the shards of glass, she set to an original project among the reconstruction: taking the colored fragments and assembling them into a fair approximation of a stained glass window. It was the chance to do a little art as a change of pace - ten minutes in silence, and she had composed an abstract flock of birds flying over an orchard.
With that placed aside to let the glue set, Rarity looked over at her friend. "So," she gently ventured, "I'm curious to ask about the meaning behind any of these other ornaments, but I'm also afraid of stepping into another landmine of bad memories like the last one."
"Well good news. There ain't any others like that last one." Applejack leaned back in the chair, front feet slightly leaving the floor and the whole thing making a satisfying creak. "At least, none Ah know about." She waved her hand vaguely at the table. "So pick one, Ah guess?"
Rarity's eyes darted across the table, mentally piecing together what each pile would be once repaired. After around a minute, they settled on a mangled mess of felt and popsicle sticks that sat in one of the piles opposite herself. "What about that?"
Applejack squinted a moment before recognition hit. "What's there to tell?"
"Anything?" Rarity shrugged slightly. "Unless it is from a year that Apple Bloom just really liked glitter." She managed to withhold most of her sarcasm.
Applejack's expression quickly shifted through several emotions - confusion, surprise, and then ending in a wry smile. "Nope. It's one of mine, not Apple Bloom's." She rose from her chair, moving around the table until she could reach the broken bits. "It's from when Ah was in first grade. We all got around for some arts and crafts, makin' holiday ornaments. Popsicle stick reindeer. Ah was mighty proud of mine - right up until Derpy sat on it." Picking it up, she set the sticks into roughly what the shape should have been.
Rarity sighed heavily, thinking on a great many old and frustrating memories. "Even before the trouble with her eyes, she was always a bit unobservant."
"But she's always had a good heart," Applejack noted slightly defensively.
Fortunately, Rarity nodded in agreement. "Quite. Which is why it's so hard to be mad at her when something happens."
That potential landmine slipped away, and Applejack continued. "Anyway Ah was pretty broken up about it, just like you'd expect a kid that age would be. Then one've the other girls in class turned around and gave me hers as a replacement. Said she'd make another one for her family on her own time." She fondly stroked the red felt with her finger. "Had this ever since, and Ah never forgot that bit of generosity from a gal who barely knew me."
"It sounds to be the beginning of a lovely friendship," Rarity wistfully sighed. "Or perhaps a light romance novel. I do hope you kept in touch with the girl."
Applejack just barely kept herself from laughing. "You really don't remember that it was you, do ya."
Instantly, Rarity's back went stiff. "What?" She paused as she raced through her memories - while Applejack simply smirked. Eventually Rarity was forced to blush. "Ah, I'm afraid I don't remember it at all, darling. Sorry."
"It's okay." Applejack dismissed it as she continued the long way around the table to reach Rarity's side. "Being off-the-cuff generous and forgettin' about it is right up your alley, aint it? Ah shouldn't be surprised, either, since you never mentioned it since."
Carefully removing her loupe and setting it down, Rarity stretched across to pick up the broken popsicle sticks. She, too, took a moment to run a fingertip across the soft felt. "Honestly, I'm not certain I would have even if I remembered it. It would have been quite rude of me to draw attention to my own work." Her eyes flicked to the other girl. "Yes, I know that seems a bit odd given the way I can promote myself. But there is a time and a place - there are far more important things during the holidays."
"Like bein' with friends who've done you a kindness without even remembering it." Applejack gave her friend a bump of the hip.
But Rarity just frowned, looking at the broken ornament in her hand. "...I should have used a wooden clothespin. Far more structurally sound than popsicle sticks. And the color choices - I can't believe I was such an amateur! That shade of red is far too pale."
Applejack gently grabbed Rarity by the shoulders and nudged her around her to face the farmer. "It's pale because it usually ends up on the side facing the window and faded a bit with the sun. Just… stop. Let me be happy about it."
Rarity bit her lip before nodding slightly.
The two slipped together into a hug.
And in the midst of it, Rarity quietly continued. "I could have used less glitter."
Applejack pushed away, taking Rarity to arm's length. "What do Ah have to do for you to let it go?"
Rarity blushed. And smiled demurely. Her eyes glittered with mischief. And right as she opened her mouth to give an almost assuredly saucy suggestion –
Snow and gravel crunched in the driveway. The brakes - serviceable but old - gave a squeal as the Apple family truck came to a halt.
The two girls broke apart, both faces flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and eager curiosity.
"We'll, ah, pick that up later?" Rarity couldn't help but sound hopeful.
Applejack's smile made clear she had caught the subtext. "Ah reckon later sounds just fine by me."
Author's Note
My prompt this year was:
Rarity and Applejack (EqG preferred, but not required), while my genre preferences would be romance, comedy and/or (light) drama.
I went with a bit of light drama and a dash of romance. This was, to note, attempt #3. 1 and 2 both ended up not quite fulfilling the prompt, which is frustrating!
