Applejack’s bed didn’t have any wheels. Twilight knew what that meant. The wheels were there so the patient could be pushed quickly into an operating room if something went wrong. If there was any chance of saving the patient, any chance at all, those wheels would be the difference between life and death. And that’s why they moved Applejack here, where the beds didn’t have any wheels.
The room was cozy and quiet. Everything was beige and chrome, or some muted pastel color. There was a small table with no drawers next to the bed that was overflowing with flowers, and small mementos from Applejack’s home.
In the half century Twilight had been alive, she never needed to visit a hospital for more than a few minutes at a time. Thanks to a mix of good luck, and the immortality of being an alicorn princess, it just never came up. So, naturally she saw hospitals as a place of healing, where ponies go in sick, and leave feeling better. That’s how they would always look from the outside.
Whenever Twilight had passed a hospital like this one, she would gaze up with admiration and think about how heroic and selfless the doctors and nurses were, dedicating their lives to helping others.
This room ended all that. Now, for the rest of her eternal life, every time she would look up at a hospital, she’d think of rows and rows of small, dark, quiet rooms where ponies lie down, and wait to die.
Twilight set a small ebony box on the table, adding it to the collection of little knickknacks. Her hoof lingered on its lid, stroking it softly with a pained expression. She knew the gnarled black little box didn’t belong among such pretty flowers.
Applejack was struggling to breathe in her sleep. She was always a fighter like that. Twilight could see the corners of her mouth curling with pain every time she drew in a breath, but she would never give up, no matter how much it hurt.
Even on the farm, she had never given up. She never retired. She had kept working, even when her joints got weak with arthritis. Even when she would get tired just from hauling a half-full basket of apples.
Twilight sat on the edge of the bed, and reached out to take Applejack by the hoof. She paused, and slipped off her golden horseshoes first. “Too scratchy,” Applejack would say. She kept herself composed enough to gently set them down on the table, even though she was tempted to whip them across the room and scream.
That damn doctor.
It wasn’t what he said to her. Twilight wasn’t blind. She already knew what he was going to say to her. The problem was how he said it. He just spit it out, and left. Sure, he lingered for a few token moments to avoid seeming rude, but he left as fast as tact would allow. He had other things to do. He had a life, and he was off to go live it. He didn’t have any time to waste with a pony whose life was over, whose heart was shattered.
Twilight gently locked her fore ankles with Applejack, squeezing hooves.
“I’m so sorry Applejack. I’m so sorry.”
“Why are you sorry, sugarcube?”
Twilight choked on a sob at the sound of Applejack’s voice. She drew her hoof up to her mouth and gasped. “Applejack! Applejack you’re awake. Do—do you know where you are?”
Applejack peeked around the room, then turned her head to look up at Twilight. She was so pale, and she was blinking slowly. It was a reminder of the pain she was in, how far she had already slipped away. Her eyes, though, were so lively and confident. It was the first time those beautiful, familiar looking eyes made an appearance in weeks, instead of just staring right through her like she wasn’t there.
“I’m in the hospital.”
Twilight nearly laughed with excitement. She leaned down to hug Applejack tightly. “You’re back! You came back to me.”
Applejack’s eyes drifted shut, and she lifted her trembling arms to wrap around her beloved’s back. She squeezed as tightly as her muscles would let her.
Twilight lowered and softened her voice. She was as gentle as she could be. “Applejack. The doctors say you’re almost out of time.”
Applejack swallowed hard, and nodded.
Twilight continued, “And … I have to say it one more time before it’s too late. I need to tell you how much I love you. I need to tell you before I can’t tell you anymore.” The sound of Twilight’s own words, given voice, was too hard for her. She sobbed.
A sympathetic tear dripped down Applejack’s cheek. “Twilight, you already told me that a thousand times, and not one of them times I didn’t already know how much you love me. Don’t you feel guilty none if I was sleeping and you couldn’t tell me something I already knew.”
Twilight sniffled, and vainly tried to dry her cheeks while fresh tears dribbled down to take the place of the old.
She slid her cheek down Applejack’s neck, coming to rest against her chest. She listened to the rushing sound of her heart, the roar of her breath. It felt so bittersweet. She would listen like this every day when they would cuddle, and it filled her with so much happiness. She couldn’t imagine living without being able to hear this sound. She would miss it more than anything.
Applejack’s arms cradled Twilight’s head instinctively, just like they always did when Twilight would listen to her breathe.
Applejack’s breaths sounded different, now. The change happened so gradually that Twilight never noticed, at first. There was a tiny rattling sound, so soft it could barely be heard. It was hard to believe. It was only a tiny rattle. How was it possible for something so quiet and so gentle to murder someone she loved?
“It’s all my fault, Applejack.”
Applejack brought her tremulous hoof to Twilight’s cheek, and limply dropped it across her face, trying vainly to fight her uncooperative muscles, and wipe Twilight’s tears away, but she only managed to smear them across Twilight’s chin.
“Ain’t nopony’s fault but life, Twilight, and I ain’t mad at life. I’m pretty dern happy with life right now, because it’s the most incredible, amazing life I coulda ever asked for. Twilight, you made me awful happy.”
“Please don’t talk like that. Don’t talk like it’s already over.”
Applejack didn’t seem to know what to say.
She stroked Twilight’s mane. When Twilight would cuddle like this, Applejack would often grab a tuft of just the pinkest stripe of hair, and use it to tickle Twilight’s nose. Her nose would curl, and it would make her giggle every time. Even after a hundred times, it always made her giggle.
Applejack’s shaky hooves pressed into a rosy lock of Twilight’s mane and trembled, awkwardly pinching and tugging. Whenever she seemed to succeed at lifting the hair, it would fall from her grip. Twilight had to gently push the hooves away, or Applejack would have kept at it forever. She was always a fighter like that. She wouldn’t give up.
“You remember the first time you listened to my heart like this?”
Twilight grinned brightly and laughed, despite her tears. She reached up and wiped her eyes. “Yeah, when we slipped.”
Applejack grinned too. “That orange fur dye was a might slipperier than either of us thought. I was blushing like a school filly when you didn’t get up right away. Had no idea you felt that way about me too.”
“Did I ever thank Big Mac for letting me dye his fur, and paint him up with your cutie mark?”
“‘Bout a dozen times, I reckon. It weren’t just Big Mac, too. I remember we painted Apple Bloom up all orange like.”
Twilight sniffed thickly, and turned her head to look up at Applejack. She looked back at her with a familiar rambunctious smile.
“Yeah, and Granny Smith too, so we could pretend to do the age spell. You know, you look a lot like Granny Smith now. Prettier, though.”
Applejack grinned, and relished the flattery in silence for a moment, then wondered aloud, “What ever happened to Trixie after we were done fooling her into taking off that amulet?”
“Didn’t you hear? She’s been doing regular shows in Las Pegasus.”
“No kidding?”
“It’s true. It’s like I always told her, she just had to stop trying to live up to others. She had to find what made her special and just forget about what everypony else is doing, and she would grow to become an amazingly powerful unicorn.”
“Told her? Lectured her, more like.” Applejack smirked.
Applejack certainly got Twilight with that one. She grinned brightly and replied, “Maybe a teensy bit,” before her smile started to melt off her face. “This is it, isn’t it? This is the last time we’ll ever just chat like this? This is the last time we’ll ever just be able to be ourselves and have a conversation.” She glanced at the ebony box, still resting on the end table.
Applejack sighed, and fought back her tears. “Yeah,” she admitted with a whisper.
The room fell quiet, except for the soft chirping of birds through the half-opened window. The pair of them looked away from each other, beaten down by the final reminder of the hard truth they were facing.
Applejack took a deep breath, and broke the silence. “Twilight.” Applejack’s tone of voice was serious. Twilight knew that sound. She was about to say something important, and she wanted Twilight to listen carefully.
“I want you to move on. I want you to find love again.”
Twilight drew in a shocked and heartbroken breath. She curled her muzzle with a mixture of hurt and confusion and breathlessly whispered, “No.”
“Twilight. This is important to me.”
Twilight’s tears started to flow again, even stronger than before. Her whisper rose up into a shout. “I can’t! I can’t!”
Applejack smiled. It was a serene, and genuine smile. “Of course you will, sugar. It don’t seem that way now, but you’re gonna. You’re gonna find somepony when I’m gone, and you’ll always remember how much I love you. You’ll always remember it, but you’ll move on, and I want you to. This is about me, telling you, Twilight. I’m telling you it’s what I want.”
“Please. Don’t say ‘gone.’ Don’t say it, please. I don’t want anypony to be gone. I want us to be together. You’re not going anywhere; you’re not. You’re never going anywhere.”
Applejack chuckled softly, and ran her arm across Twilight’s cheek. “Twilight, sugar, you—Ow.” Applejack winced suddenly, and arched her chest sharply into Twilight’s face, yelping with pain and drawing a wheezy, agonizing breath.
Twilight crawled up out of the bed, covering her mouth with a fore hoof and stepping backwards, eyes wide and trembling at the sight of her lover struggling and gasping for breath.
“Nurse,” Twilight whispered with hushed disbelief, before raising her voice and shouting out the door, “Nurse! She needs a nurse!”
Panicked and trembling, she ran to the end table, and reached out to grab her little ebony box. She gave it a pained, almost furious expression, snatching it up into her hooves resolutely.
“Nurse!” she shouted again.
Applejack grabbed at Twilight weakly, nearly slipping from her bed. “No! It’s okay. It’s okay,” she pleaded. She clenched her teeth, and tried to recover from her fit, but the pain seemed to get worse. “Don’t. Don’t get the nurse. I just want you to stay with me. Promise me. Promise me you won’t feel guilty, when you find somepony else.”
“You don’t understand! You don’t understand at all. There will never be anypony else. Never.”
Twilight reached down, and pulled a large necklace out of her box. She held it at leg’s length, and shamefully showed it to her love.
“Never,” she repeated.
Applejack’s eyes widened at the sight of the obsidian and ruby monstrosity on Twilight’s hoof. “Twilight, where did you get that?! No. No, don’t you dare! Don’t. You. Dare!” She was still reeling from the pain in her chest, but she fought to take the amulet from Twilight. She tried lunging in, and snatching it away, but her frail, withered body crumpled on the sheets. She could only reach out and clutch at it weakly, fighting with all her strength.
Twilight barely even felt her lover’s grip on the amulet. Her orange hoof kept quivering and weakly falling away, but she would never stop trying to take the amulet. She would never give up. She was always a fighter like that.
“Twilight, you can’t do this. Don’t do it! Put it away!”
“I’m so sorry, Applejack. I’m so sorry,” Twilight replied.
She slipped the amulet around her neck, and clasped it shut.
Applejack shouted as loud as she could, and her crooning elderly voice rasped painfully. “Twilight, no! Stop it! Take it off! Take it off right now!”
Twilight’s eyes grew darker and more distant. She winced, and tried to fight, but a blood red color quickly invaded her irises in flashes, brief and sputtering at first, but growing brighter until they seemed to light her eyes on fire.
Twilight released a sighing breath of resignation as the darkness consumed her.
“Goodbye, Applejack. I love you more than anything.”
Applejack stared up at the unfamiliar scarlet in Twilight’s eyes. She shook her head rapidly, and cried out, muzzle curled with horror with grief.
An explosive flash of red magic shot through the room, and Applejack’s scream changed, mid-bellow, from the haggard and strained cry of an elderly mare, into the youthful drawl of a teenager.
Applejack’s new body granted her a burst of strength, and she launched herself from the bed so hard that it was sent scrooching backward into the wall behind her with a crash. She tackled Twilight, and grabbed onto the amulet, wrenching with all her might, chipping her hoof, straining her fore ankles painfully.
“Take it off, please! Please!”
Twilight threw Applejack off of her with a blast of magic, tossing her into the end table. She hiccuped from the impact, and shielded her head as a cascade of flowers and knickknacks rained down on her.
“This is how you thank me for saving your life?”
The Alicorn Amulet caught the light and shimmered. It was too late now. Twilight was gone.
