Horseshoesby Peter YellowhammerChaptersSmileSurvivalSuspendedDay 1PinnedInescapableCreviceCaramelPonyville's LightsCataclysmHorsePatientBig MacintoshHorseshoesChangesShine All FourGrinSideviewsRememberTell the TruthTraitorsImpossibleApples and OrangesSmile“...but ohmigawsh, that was the funniest thing I'd seen in, like, evar!” Caramel smiled. “Heh. Yeah, yeah...it was pretty funny, wasn't it?" If misery is your sense of humor. “I never thought that, like, a tree could be funneh...but then you came in and just, like, made it work, lawl!” “Yeah, I sure did...so what were you looking for, again?” Besides an excuse to find Big Mac, I'm guessing? “Wha? OH! Yeah yeah, I need to, like, find that Macintosh guy, and I heard you usually know where he is, so...?” The gum chewing mare gave her best eyelash-flash to Caramel as he weighed his options. His decision? Lie. “He's probably out in the fields right now. The Cup's over, so you could—” “Okay, thanks much, buhbye!” She trotted off toward what she must have thought were the fields. He never learned her name. He never wanted to learn her name, whatever variation of 'I'm a spoiled brat who doesn't care how Ponyville was flipped on its head' it was. Why did he seek her out? All he really wanted to do was to go inside and relax for the rest of the day. A very tired Caramel looked around the ancient barn: the same musty, slightly decayed wood as it was before. He was grateful it was left alone amid all the changes. Ultimately, the Oranges allocated a few spaces to be set aside for...nothing, because they were “terminally unattractive.” It suited his mood if nothing else; he just wasn't up for attending the nighttime events, or any events for the next few days. Maybe not ever again; what was the point? His limbs still sluggish and weak, the failed athlete made his way to a broken hay bale and collapsed on top of it. The evening sun cast rays inside, giving the hay an ethereal red shine against his beige hide. All he could do was stare at the ceiling in a haze, occasionally rolling over to count the rings in the wooden walls...again. Every now and then, he fumbled with the strands of his disgusting hair, trying to force them back into his usual hairstyle. He stank even worse than before, but there wasn't anything he could do about that. He had absolutely no idea what to do now. None. The defeated pony jumped at the sound of Big Macintosh knocking at the door. It must have been him because the force of the knocking made the barn shake, obviously despite the knocker's intentions. He put on the best smile he could muster and teetered his way to the barn doors. He made himself open them. The monstrous, handsome, unpredictable, maddening, possibly evil farm pony looked...tired, oddly enough. He was in top form in the Cup, sweeping the games effortlessly, but now he had shadows under his eyes and something pink smeared on the right side of his face. When Caramel looked at it, Big Mac did the same and frowned. Perhaps he couldn't get it off: was it some super-thick cake frosting? Pinkie did like to experiment with that stuff...'always the best for a big party'. But all the same, he looked fantastic with the setting sun igniting golden highlights in that dirty blonde mane. Not a drop of sweat could be seen on him. Whatever the reason for him to come, it didn't matter: he was exactly who Caramel never wanted to see again. “Hey, Big Mac. Need something?” “Eeyup.” “Does it have to do with the hay bales? Because I'm pretty sure the--” “Nnope.” “Okaaay, then is it the water bucket you let me borrow?” “Nnope.” Caramel took a deep breath. He suddenly noticed a glint from the farm pony's neck: two red-ribboned, silver medals were reflecting sunlight right into his eyes. They were his medals from the two events he eked out results. “You want inside, don't you?” “Eeyup.” Caramel let Big Mac in, despite wanting to hide in the barn by himself for...until he was ready to leave. He had plenty of hay in here, the rain allowed good water, the roof was still intact; it was a good place. He made an act of sorting the broken hay bale into a manageable pile while his guest stood completely still in the middle. It was a little creepy, all things considered. He kept his focus on the hay, ignoring the sweat beading on his forehead. “You can just set those down and leave if you're busy. And I appreciate you bringing them by, of course. You must be busy with all the partying everypony's doing with ya,” he finished with a chuckle. “Nnope.” Interesting answer. Maybe they all finished early and started planning for tomorrow? Whatever the case, the athlete brought the medals but wasn't setting them down...was he...no, he couldn't be. He couldn't. Caramel's hide bristled. That was unforgivable, greedy, abusive...but he remembered what his dad always told him and just smiled. “...Or maybe you want to talk about how awesome you were. And you were awesome! The way you were in complete control of each event just blew me away, like the hurdling--” Clank, clank. “Are you okay?” Caramel froze. This was absolutely the worst time, and speaking for himself was not something Big Mac did unless it was absolutely necessary. Evading this question was out of the question, even if he tried. And for that, he actually hated Big Mac a little bit. But at the same time, he couldn't help but like him a little more. He wanted to stop pretending and throw himself at the champion's hooves. Or into an earthquake. One or the other. Smile, Caramel, just smile. “Uhh...yeah! I'm fine! Why do you ask?” Even if it was hopeless, he wasn't going to give it all away immediately. Why would he? “Caramel, don't lie t'me. Ah saw you.” As he heard the last sentence, the medal winner felt his rage release itself from his cage. It was taking a while to claw up to his brain, held back by his stretched lips struggling to keep him sane. Perhaps...perhaps smiling wasn't the answer here. Perhaps he had to beat the invulnerable by making himself vulnerable. “...Oh yeah? When exactly did you see me? At the hurdling finish line? Or at the hoof wrestling matches? Or maybe when you--” “You ran away while everypony was distracted.” “...” Oh. So you did see me. You weren't too busy egging on the crowds? “You were cryin'.” “...” So, what's your point? For all you know, I'm just a sore loser. “Ah've never seen you cry before. Ah...” The rage stopped and waited. “Ah need t'know whut happened. Then Ah'll leave well enough alone, if'n you want.” Goosebumps broke out over his hide as the interrogator sat down right in front of him. Leaving well enough alone was not in the plans, it seemed... “...What happened?” “Eey--Yes, Caramel. What happened t'you? You...you can tell me, right? We're friends; you can trust me." Caramel had to steady himself as he looked at his guest. Big Mac had never looked more pathetic to him in his life, eyes pleading with him for an answer. But some hours ago, the same pony was half-insane with pride and arrogance. Just what in the six hells happened to him after the Cup? And why did he bring up their friendship...if that was what it was? He remained standing as he answered. "I-I suppose we're friends, yeah. We don't really talk, but...I guess you don't really talk much to anypony, heh." Big Mac chuckled, but it sounded weak. Caramel was expecting a 'Nnope', not a heartbreaking chuckle and heavy breathing. And this was the most that his 'friend' had talked to him for both of their lives. He felt itchy. "Ah remember back when we were foals: you always tried t'do whut Ah did fer mah chores. You jus' couldn't manage it, but you smiled every time you failed an' jus' kept goin'. An' you refused t'let me help you. Stubborn as th' rest of us, Ah swear." As much as he hated to admit it, Caramel's smile was a real one at that moment. He didn't like to think about his childhood, but Macintosh was certainly worth remembering. And now he knew that the farm pony considered them friends back then, too. It was when he pulled away from most ponies, including him, that he didn't feel he deserved the title anymore. "C-Caramel?" ...Sniffle. ...What's happening? Is he...he's actually... "Don'...don' do that this time. Ah wanna help you, if'n Ah can. It's..." Macintosh inhaled sharply, grunting a little. Against his better judgment, Caramel sat opposite him. "It's too important t'ignore. Fer both of us. Ah mean, look at you; you haven't even bathed after th' Cup. Yer hurtin', an' it's clear t'see. Please..." Sniffle. "Please jus'..." Caramel hurriedly stood up and went back to "sort" the hay. He couldn't look at what was happening. Big Mac was always mighty and stoic and brave and huge...not raw. It wasn't him, not at all. Maybe Caramel passed out and started dreaming? But his dreams never had... “Oh, Ah cain't keep this up...” Sniffle, sniffle. Sob. “...M-Mac?” As much as he dreaded it, he sat back down with the inexplicably sobbing Big Macintosh. He could see the tears already flowing down his face. What happened to him to make him like this?! “C-Caramel...wuz it me? D-Did Ah do that t'you?!" It was hard for Caramel to say exactly what bewildered him then. He didn't suppose Big Macintosh would be heartless, but this was not what he imagined the emotional core of the pony to be. He pictured a few hopes and fears about the perils of farming, maybe anxiety about starting a family...but not this. Macintosh was not supposed to cry. His mouth seemed to know what to say, even though his mind and heart were torn to shreds. He most definitely was not smiling now. “...W-what?!” “J-Jus' tell me, please. Ah need t'know. It wuz th' shoe throwin', wuzn't it? A-ah screwed up, Ah know that; that contest did a number on me. Ah was out o' control. Ah w-wanted t'ruffle yer feathers a bit, but...Ah never meant t'reduce you t'tears. Ah swear on mah mama's grave that Ah never meant t'hurt you, Mel. I am so, so sorry...!” Caramel's rage was comically defeated. All the flashing images of the hypersmug Macintosh preening at him were fading in the whitewash of the same Macintosh's weepy apology. Now he was fighting what he tried to get past several times...but was beginning to feel would take him over again. But at the same time, a fearful revelation started to settle deep in his stomach. Just who was this pony? Why was he crying over what was, admittedly, just a simple error in judgment for him? And why was this pony trying to fix his mane...? Mere hours after the Cup, mere hours after he had to finally accept his lot...this couldn't have happened at a worse time. “W-well...it's just...” His voice caught in his throat as a large hoof brushed a strand of his hair behind his left ear. “Please. Ah'm not asking you t'forgive me. Just tell me so Ah can...so Ah can set things straight.” Honesty. He just had to be honest. He had done nothing wrong; he had to forget the smiling and be blunt. He wished he didn't smell so bad... “Yes. It was the shoe throwing." Macintosh bowed his head and shut his eyes. "You humiliated me. You made a mockery of my talent. You didn't mean it; I bet the crowd and everypony else didn't even notice. But you did. Even though you won fair and square.” Sob. “B-but you know what? I can...get past that. Really, I can. The reason I was crying was...is...” Macintosh brought his head back up, eyes swimming in those inexplicable tears. “Y-yes?” As the words came to him, all of his inhibition died. Too much pain was keeping him from being sympathetic. He had to let this strange pony know just what he did...for better or for worse. After all, who else could he tell? “Because I lost the one means I might have had to survive.” SurvivalMacintosh genuinely could not believe what he had heard. It was ridiculous. "The only means I have to survive?" How could he have survived until now if he didn't have... Wait. One explanation did rear its ugly head. Oh, no. Oh, please no. His mind hurriedly collected the facts: 1) He hadn't been to Caramel's house in years. Well, 'been around' would be more accurate. 2) Caramel had a couple of belongings in the barn. 3) This barn had hay in it, very old hay at that. He had forgotten to replace it with all the mess of the year. 4) He saw the water bucket in the corner, half full with what must have been rainwater. 5) Caramel smelled awful, and he couldn't bathe here. Please tell me yer jokin'. Please tell me Ah'm jus' crazy. “Y-you mean...yer tellin' me--” "Eeyup," answered the dirty pony in a weak voice. "This is my house." You cain't be serious. "You cain't be serious! You cain't be! Yer...yer jus' bein' melodramatic, right? Right?" "Nnope." Big Macintosh felt itchy. Evening sunlight bathed the probably bitter hay...the hay on which Caramel was sleeping. This really was his home. "H-How...how th' hells did it git like this?! Don' you have a job or somethin'? Some support?" “I don't. But it's not anypony's fault but mine. Something's wrong with me: no matter what I..." Caramel stopped. All Macintosh could do was watch the beige pony's chest rise slowly with the inhale, fall deeply with the exhale; each second was stretched to its absolute limit. The floor beneath him seemed to shift with Caramel's breathing, even though he was rooted to it motionlessly. His eyes started burning again. "It's bad, Big Mac.” He stifled one final sob from his earlier trembling; it still hurt to think about what he had done, but this was seriously becoming strange. He felt like he was on a roller coaster. He hated rollercoasters. The one everypony made him try after the Cup was enough to turn his insides out...and Caramel might as well have been pulling the lever right then. He jostled his aching head. “U-um...whaddya mean?” “I mean..." Caramel got up off the floor. "Well, lemme show you.” He watched the beige pony walk over to one of the hay bales and put his hoof against it. “Now watch me try and push it.” Confused, Big Mac kept watching. The hoof applied pressure to the hay...and then slipped right through it. He forgot how to breathe. That hoof might as well have slipped right through him. That wasn't supposed to happen. Bale hay was packed specifically so things like that wouldn't happen, but his hoof slipped through the surface and inexplicably broke the tension holding it all together. The hay bale anticlimactically started to fall apart as if it were loose the whole time. “How did...you jus'...whut?” Caramel bowed his head, and Macintosh had to keep from bowing his own. Caramel wasn't supposed to be sad. It was one of the constants of his life: the sun rises and sets, the apples grow and fall, and Caramel's always happy. This wasn't right, it wasn't right at all. Breathe, Macintosh, breathe. “It's been like that since I can remember," Mel confessed. "I can do little things like write and walk and...eat, if there's no plate to break...but when I want to do something useful, something like that always happens. Like if I were to...you know what? I'm not going to demonstrate and risk ruining the support beam. I'm too tired, anyway.” “...Wait jus' a minute,” interrupted the listener. “Ah saw you work on th' farm, or try to anyway, an' you never destroyed a bale or anythin' like that!” Caramel brought his head back up and laughed bitterly. He wasn't supposed to be bitter, either... “I was a foal then, Big Mac! I was too weak to do that much damage...or something like that. Not anymore, though. Nnope...not anymore.” Then the hay destroyer just looked at him and sighed. “But yeah, this is what I am: a walking disaster. Whatever I touch, I ruin, unless it's gigantic. The only thing I can do well is shoe tricks. Just...just imagine somepony like that trying to get a job. And now you understand why I'm here...I make sure to eat light, so no worries there.” Macintosh was reeling from what he had just learned. This sort of thing shouldn't have been able to happen, not to Caramel, not to anypony. But even with the horror demonstrated, some way to live honestly had to be there, it just had to be. Yet...here they were. “Jus' how long have you lived like this?” Caramel looked to the floor of the barn. It seemed he was deliberately avoiding his guest's eyes, even though Big Mac was in truth the host. He was the host of something truly abominable. “...A little over a year.” He sat there in silence for some time. It was hard to know what to say or do; seeing the little pony like this was steadily wrenching him from the inside out, but he couldn't just sit there. He had to investigate. The big work pony decided to press further. “Nopony would take pity on you?”, Macintosh conjectured. The cursed pony grimaced. “I got by from staying at someponies' places overnight, up 'till this. That, or I just camped out. Usually, somepony would just let me come over and eat dinner with them, nice as can be...but I guess I was just too proud to tell them about me. Besides, that's the symptom and not the disease, as they say.” Caramel did look pretty thin. In fact, he looked like he had been sick lately. Perhaps he had been sick a lot, having lived in here for so long. Over a year - no, even more than that - of sickness and destitution, not asking for help...it was stupid. It was downright moronic. But more than anything else, it was heartbreaking to see... “Well...could yer talent--” “No." He had to recoil as Caramel blurted the harsh response. "I've looked. I've experimented. I've even tried to...well, it was far-fetch'd, no point in even mentioning it. There is absolutely no money in shoes, and I'm not talking mares' hoofwear.” Macintosh felt himself sink along with Caramel to the floor. "I wouldn't mind it normally, believe you me. Mine's not the only talent that's completely useless. But when this came into the picture, it just...well, you can imagine." Truthfully, he didn't know if he could. How could it possibly be this bad? No, it couldn't be. Caramel had to be mistaken. “Whut about yer family? Wouldn't they--” “I...don't want to talk about it.” Chills ran down the interrogator's spine as his subject changed tones dramatically: Caramel suddenly sounded meek and scared instead of just bitter. He didn't want to hear either tone, but there was no way he was leaving that alone. “Mel, Ah cain't accept that answer--” “I said I don't want to talk about it," his objective challenged, bitterness revived. "So...we're not gonna talk about it. Okay?” Macintosh got up to close in on the wounded pony, hoping to intimidate him. He had to step it up before he lost his nerve, before he lost him. “Nnope.” Caramel just stared back at him. “Tough.” “This is too serious t'sidestep, Mel," he insisted. "Ah need t'know if Ah'm gonna be able t'help you.” “Oh, sure, go ahead and try!”, Mel countered with exaggerated sourness. “Really! Five doctors couldn't figure it out, so wouldn't it be the funniest thing if a simple farm pony finally cracked the code! Now this I gotta see”, he finished as he laid on his back, hooves laid casually - irritatingly - behind his head. He felt itchy again. Calm down, Macintosh. He's upset. Be a peacemaker. Quelling his frustration, he inferred as much as he could in his head. Besides Caramel's house, he hadn't seen the pony's father in years either; it just wasn't important to him to check. After all, he figured everything was fine until now. Did he just sell their house and leave him here? As much as he hated to keep asking, he needed more information. Dagnabbit. This ain't like you at all...Why're you makin' this so difficult? “Okay, forget it fer now,” the simple farm pony offered. “Whut about...whut about them 'surreal' jobs? You certainly seem smart enough fer one o' 'em.” The jobless pony seemed to calm down a bit, and therefore so did Big Macintosh. He only had to keep things businesslike, eeyup. He could do this. “Tried that, too.” “...An'?” “...And look where I am now!", Caramel retaliated with a glare. "What do you think happened?! And it's called 'cerebral', by the way, not that it matters.” “But how in Equestria did...?!” “It was always something stupid. I would touch a desk or a stack of forms wrong and completely ruin them. Even I can admit that's not employee material for the up and up...” Just for a second, the failed employee seemed like he was about to break down, but then he wiped all expression from his face. Macintosh tried desperately to do the same, racking his brain for a solution. He looked at the sunlight streaming on the broken hay...then beamed as the answer sat right in front of him. “Hold on! You wrecked that bale purdy good. Whut if you did demolition work?” “Hah! Nice try,” Caramel spat back. “That was the last job I went for. I wasn't turned away because I was inappropriate...but because I was inadequate! Imagine it! If you had the choice between quality explosives and wrecking tools versus some cursed pony who could just...ruin some hay or whatever, which would you pick? Oh, that really summed it up for me; too much for one kind of job, not enough for another. "And it goes without saying I couldn't work the tools myself; believe me, the one time I tried it was...I'm just glad nopony was hurt. They kept my secret just to get rid of me; I can't blame them." Now Macintosh started to tremble again. But this time it was from that tiny flicker of anger that was hampered in his mind, which suddenly burst to life. Nopony could be this stupid... "Well, then you shoulda gone fer a smaller demo job." The clueless pony looked completely incredulous...but then he chuckled. It wasn't a forced chuckle, just a normal one. What was so damn funny? "'A smaller demo job'. Cute. You think of that yourself? Do you seriously think that kind of job exists?" ...Oh, now Ah see how it is. Big Mac took a deep breath to calm down: he had to just run through the possibilities until he found the ticket. "You could make that job. Experimentin', like you said before." "Oh, please tell me you don't think I haven't thought of that," pleaded Caramel sarcastically. "It's a nice sounding idea until you realize...I would still be selling my defect. Who in Equestria or beyond would be comfortable taking work like that? "And before you even say it," Caramel preempted just as Big Mac prepared to rebut, "pity will only go so far. Pity...is a novelty that will wear off, and I've seen that happen just in interviews for jobs. Add that with the lack of demand for something like that, and there goes that idea. Sorry." Big Mac took another deep breath. "You say that, but did you try it?" Now Caramel just looked exasperated. As frustrated as he was, he had to admit it was a cute face. "WAY too risky, Macintosh. If it failed, I'd have nothing to show for it except everypony knowing about what I am." "Eeyup," insisted Macintosh through gnashing teeth, "an' then they could HELP you." "Pfft," spat Caramel. "Avoid me, more like. They'd get paranoid that I could melt their flesh or something stupid like that. 'Oh, stay away! It's the Disintegrator, Aaaah!'" Big Mac did not laugh. "...I'm telling you," continued Caramel, "you can't sell my destruction, just like you can't sell tricks with shoes." That...! Even if that's true, that doesn't mean you should give up...that's DEFINITELY not like you. "...Use yer shoes t'do other jobs. Like...whut do you call those things trains ride on?" "Railways?" "Eeyup, them. Ah...Ah don' see why you couldn't...hammer nails into th' metal with a shoe or somethin'." Even he knew he was losing momentum, but he had to keep going. "I actually did try that...and dear Celestia, what happened was awful. If I hammered even slightly different than the other workers, part of the railway would explode. They wouldn't even let me try to fix anything; they just fired me and told me to never come back." "...That's weird," commented Macintosh. Caramel nodded wryly. "But anyway, you could...do somethin' that didn't involve labor. Like counseling." "You need a degree for that, AND I'm not exactly the consoling type. I can't just smile other ponies' problems away." For a second, Big Mac could have sworn he saw Caramel mouth to himself: "Believe me, I've tried." "...Music." "That does involve labor with instruments, and I ruined said instruments. They were expensive to replace, too; Dad was not happy that day." "Singin'." "Do I sound like a singer to you?" "Mascot." That at least made the stubborn pony pause. He stepped away from him to help him think. "I can't feed myself on wages that low. And even if I could, can you picture me - just me - as a mascot? Costumes are out of the question, because...you know. They'd just find somepony more suitable for the job...assuming they even wanted one." "...Fortune telling!", grunted Macintosh. "A fortune teller shredding cards doesn't inspire too many ponies, Mac," said Caramel with an aggravating smile. "ROLL CALL! All you gotta do is stand in one place an' count. Don' tell me that's outta th' question, too!" "I don't know if you've noticed, but that's not a paying gig. But keep trying; this is fun!" Breathe, Macintosh, breathe. Don' git carried away, jus' stick with yer brains. "Announcements." "Electronic equipment." "Use a Unicorn fer that voice enhancement thingy!" "Oh, but this pony right here doesn't need that! 'NEXT'." "Foal sittin'." "It's juuuuuuuust a little awkward when you have to explain to a foal--" "Consultin'!" "You-You don't just get a job like that. Too much in the way." "Don' gimme that--MAKE IT WORK!" "I TRIED! It was all I could do at that point; trying to cut red tape for pointless jobs. It just...it just doesn't work when you have a track record like mine." Big Macintosh was beyond trying to control himself. He would not accept the 'hopelessness' of the situation, no matter how difficult it was. "You...JEWEL APPRAISAL!" "You think a jeweler would risk making flaws in--" "ANIMAL SITTING!" "Now you're just desperate--" "STAND! UP! COMEDY!" "I'M! NOT! FUNNY!" Big Macintosh flopped to the barn floor in defeat, groaning loud enough to make the weakened structure shake a little. Wait, no, he couldn't give in here! He made himself stand up just as he registered Caramel mumbling something along the lines of: "At least that's what the club owners said..." “Ah...Ah refuse t'believe anypony could be forced t'live off mah farm like...like this! You cain't jus' git discouraged an' give up like this, babe! There hasta be somethin' you can do fer bits, there jus' hasta be!” Caramel kept his face neutral, looking to the roof of the barn. Big Macintosh ran through every money-for-work situation he could imagine...but all he could really think of was the dirty pony in front of him, disillusioned and silently broken. No matter how stupid the pony was being, he didn't deserve this. “Well, if there is, I'd love to hear it. I'm stumped myself.” It hurt to hear that. It hurt so bad. It had to stop; this whole ordeal had to stop. ...Whut did Ah say back there? Oh no...Ah-Ah gotta ignore it an' press on, it's too important. “C-Caramel...Ah'll help you, we'll find somethin'. Maybe we'll find a cure or SOMETHIN' t'end this. This...this is unacceptable.” The homeless pony's mask was finally starting to break. And so was he. “I know. I...I know it is. Do you think I would w-wish anypony away that could help me?! But nopony can! None of 'em! Not my teachers, not my father, not my doctors, not the entertainment industry, AND CERTAINLY NOT SOME FLAWLESS DOLT LIKE YOU!” Macintosh lost his grip again as he saw hot tears running down Caramel's dirty cheeks. He couldn't stand it, he couldn't stand it at all. He just sat himself down and caught the grieving pony in his hooves and held him tightly, shutting his eyes from the sight. He felt hooves grab his neck and pull him down. He shivered as a muzzle buried itself in his shoulder, craning his neck to do the same. Each sob brought him closer to tears of his own. It was exactly what he wanted to do, and it was exactly what he was afraid would happen. Macintosh cradled him as best he could, struggling to stay strong. But after a couple of minutes went by, he felt it all too powerfully. Caramel was so vulnerable, so broken instead of his usual sweet and mild self he had come to admire. And he was right there, comforting the pony with his entire body. It was too much. It was too sudden. He just couldn't keep it up; it made him so weak. Lifting his muzzle, the flawless dolt shook as he nuzzled Caramel's neck and gingerly licked his cheek. SuspendedCaramel stopped. Time and existence stopped. All his rage, all his grief, all his self-loathing froze at the hot, wet touch of Macintosh's tongue. His cheek burned with nonsense, dripped with insanity. Big Macintosh...had just licked him. That sentence defied logic as he had come to know it. “B-Big Mac?” The strange red pony had also stopped. He had to remind himself to breathe. “Y-yeah?” “You just...but you wouldn't have...you couldn't have...?” His comforter, beyond all reason, bowed his head forward and rested against Caramel's neck. He heard him moan and was frightened at the sound. He felt hooves pull him in tighter, refusing to yield. “Ah'm sorry,” began the strange red pony, “really Ah am. But Ah cain't help it anymore. It's just...Caramel...” He didn't want to hear what came next. He wanted to die right then and there, if it meant he could forget the entire day. But he was still feeling the champion breathe in and out unsteadily...He was still feeling so many dreams come back to him all at once. “Y-yeah?”, he squeaked. “Ah...Ah'll make it up t'you. Ah swear. We'll find you somethin' you can do t'make a livin'; Ah'll look until mah eyes fall out. Jus' please don't give up. It's yer best quality...” The universe was further insulted when Macintosh pulled his head back up and planted lips to his. Caramel was lost for what to think as he was held there, feeling the pressure that was denied to him for so long. It couldn't have been real; there was no way. Dreams must have become wet and sticky when he wasn't looking. “Ah'm not giving up on you...and Ah'll be damned t'all six hells if Ah'm gonna let you do it either. You never gave up before. That's...that's why Ah fell in love with you, Mel...” As the strange red pony relaxed his crushing hug, Caramel tried to compute what he had just heard. Big Macintosh loved him? He just said that? And he wasn't dreaming? So all the training to 'win' at the Cup and maybe the occasional date, trying to find a mare to help him forget...that was all completely pointless?! He could have just told the truth and everything...well, one thing would have been fine?! The scandalized pony felt his bizarre lover nuzzle him again. It was hard to be mad when he was being so affectionate, like scolding a shower for being too wet. He loves me...he fell in love with me. And he told me. Dear skies above, so much has changed. “Even as bad as it got fer you workin', you never complained, never quit in th' middle. You just smiled an' tried again. Ah kept thinkin', “Why does he keep doing it when it never works?” an' then...Ah thought o' mahself.” Caramel didn't know what else to do but keep listening. It was starting to get colder outside, not that he felt remotely chilly. Big Macintosh was very warm...and he was beginning to crave that warmth again. "...It's like you said: Ah'm a flawless dolt. Ah never had t'worry 'bout not bein' able t'work. Ah wondered what it might've been like if Ah wuz helpless, and it scared th' hells outta me. Cuz, Ah mean, there's not much else to me than workin' an' helpin' everypony, or at least nothin' else Ah care t'know.” Suddenly, the strange red pony wasn't so strange anymore. He was different, but it was like... they understood each other in a way. They had the same fear. Caramel almost made an effort to nuzzle him back, but decided against it until he was done talking. “An' then Ah jus' looked at you. No matter how frustrated you got with yer strugglin', no matter how helpless you really were, you never showed it. You were stubbornly happy with a pretty smile," he continued with a reverent tone. Caramel thought about his smile. He never considered what other ponies thought about it, not really. After all, he smiled to make himself feel better and to look like he never felt bad; so he didn't truthfully have others in mind. But it was clear now that he should have paid attention. “Ah wanted that strength. Ah wanted t'be able t'keep tryin' even if my blessin's dried up. Ah...Ah respect you as much as any family Ah've ever had.” Caramel's chest fluttered as he saw his admirer tear up again. He never thought he would hear those words, any of them. He didn't think his old crush would feel the same way; never dared to ask it, barely dared to think it. Why would a stud like Big Mac look at a pony like him, whether he was gay or not? But here the stud was, embracing him and bearing his soul. Caramel inhaled more steadily, feeling a real smile stretch his lips. He offered a hoof to wipe Big Mac's tears. His comforter sniffed, clearing his throat. The smelly pony really wished he smelled better, even just a little. “Yer th' sweetest, too. Always were. Ah...Ah swear Ah didn't know it wuz this bad. Ah jus' thought you were a klutz...!” Tremors shook both of them as Macintosh started to tremble again. Caramel rubbed the big lug's back; he just wasn't supposed to be sad, not him. It was one of the constants in his life...in fact, it was the only constant he had. He had to return the favor, soothe the soother. “Mac...it's okay. I don't blame anypony for this, really. It just...it just stinks, that's all. It really, really stinks...” This didn't seem to help. “I-If only we knew, we all woulda helped you. Why...why didn't you say anything?! Ah woulda bent over backwards to...!” He instantly regretted letting Big Macintosh in the barn. All his outpouring emotion wasn't worth this amazing stallion fretting over him. The champion should have been celebrating, not suddenly bearing his burden. It just wasn't right. “It's...it's not that bad, really...” “Not that bad?!", a tearful Macintosh rebutted. "Yer homeless! Yer jobless! Yer daddy prolly abandoned you! Yer stuck livin' in our old barn that got stolen from us! Yer...yer cryin' again, Ah'm sorry. Oh, Mel...” Caramel finished recoiling from the reminders. If anything, it felt good to hear somepony else say them. “No, it's...it's all true. Don't feel bad. A-after all, it's not like feeling bad will change anything, right?”, he offered meekly. He never imagined that between the two of them, Big Macintosh would have been the emotional one. The pony wasn't what he believed him to be at all...but it was clear that this was the real deal. He would accept it no matter how this situation ended; he was not going to let go of what was just given to him unconditionally. Mac seemed to be calming down, the pony's heartbeat slowing to normal. Mel wiped Mac's eyes again. “Ah...well, that's true," the champion conceded with a hint of a smile. Mel chuckled through what sounded like a throat. “Heh...Ah've never talked this much in mah life. It's kinda exhausting. It all jus' came gushin' out, haha!” Mel felt the babbling farm pony's deep laughter reverberate against him as he was nuzzled again. Caramel giggled stupidly at the sensation, nuzzling him back this time. Why did he wait until now to do it? He was so flighty sometimes...so he decided to make it undeniable. He licked the left side of Macintosh's thickly muscled neck. Mac suddenly stopped nuzzling him. The two met eyes and stared at each other, both short of breath. They heard the water in the bucket splash softly as a single drop fell inside. “...Mel?” “Mac?” “You weren't...jus' humoring me, were you?” His crush's eyes were wide and lips were quivering. But Mel grinned that grin he saw before. “Nnope!” It seemed like Mac was the one who's existence locked up this time. Just for a few seconds, it was as if he had died and left a mindless shell behind. But then time started moving again...and accelerated as Mel only had a split second to register Mac pulling him into an overeager tongue bath. It was rushed, it was inexperienced, the stallion almost made him choke a few times...but he closed his eyes and relished every caress his partner made as it flooded him with a joy he didn't want to believe existed. Even as his mind still fought against the concept of the one pony he yearned for actually kissing him and returning his feelings, their frenzied dance became calmer...and he lost all focus but that toward the magnificent creature bound to him by flesh. He was gone. He was in love again. The kiss slowed further and grew deeper over time, the two hopelessly entangled in each other...everything else forgotten but the warmth of their bodies, the adoration of their tongues. They both fell to their sides as they explored each other greedily. In those few minutes, everything had changed. In those few minutes, Paradise was reborn. Ten minutes later, Macintosh broke their kiss and frantically got up from laying on his side. Caramel had to squirm to avoid getting stepped on. “Whoa whoa, what happened? Somepony lay down some kibble for ya, Spot?” Without missing a beat, Spot replied: “Ah gotta go, Ah'm late for supper and...oh, crud, Ah'm sorry, Ah'm a moron. Ah'll bring somethin' back here. Th' point is, Ah need t'go home. But this,” he added with a peck, “wuz wonderful. Ah'll talk t'you t'morrow 'bout getting' you out o' this barn. In th' meantime...” Caramel tried to cut in, but was silenced by a longer, more tender kiss. His partner was getting better at that already. “Yer welcome t'stay," the Apple offered breathlessly. "Be back in two bits.” Caramel finally caught his breath when he said: “Wh-whoa, wait!” Mac stopped just before the doors and turned his head, eyes as wild as his dirty blonde hair. “Whut?!” The barn dweller cantered up to his stud. He smiled with deliberate charm and half-lidded eyes. “Y'know...when you bring the meal back here – and you're just too nice to do so, thank you so much – you could...stay the night if you like. Or I could...oh, forget it, I'm being ridiculous.” The other barn dweller scratched his chin, eyes darting from Mel to the great outdoors. Then his eyes lit up, as if sparkling with his mind's solution. “Ah have a much better idea,” Macintosh teased as he played with Mel's mane. “Would you like t'have supper with us tonight? Ah cain't git ya a room too easily, but we can surely try.” Caramel felt his knees give out. He hadn't had a meal with flavor since...he didn't even want to think about it. And sleeping in an actual bed...with a blanket and pillows and windows and everything. And maybe he could finally have a bath that wasn't in a river! He never thought he would get something that wonderful after what happened earlier that day. The saved pony looked at Macintosh, who was smiling a little smugly. He looked so different to him now. He looked like a perfect gentlecolt when he was a colt himself; then the pinnacle of masculinity when they were both grown; then an infuriatingly charming blowhard at the stadium; and now as if he were a gift from the heavens, meant to redeem him from his cursed life. Caramel nodded his head emphatically. Then he felt fear grip his heart as he remembered. “W-wait, that would mean...!” Mac kept his face stern, but warm. Just looking at that face made Mel wonder why he convinced himself that trying to snagging the stud was pointless. He had no reason to be afraid...certainly not now. Well, at least not of that. “They would find out eventually. Ah'm sure they'll take pity on you once we explain it t'them. They're good ponies an' you know it.” But Caramel wasn't swayed. He was already trying to imagining what might happen if they were unprepared: every outcome seemed bleak. “I know your family would forgive me, but what about--” “CRUD.” “Exactly!” Mac looked as worried as Caramel felt. Both of them fixated on the other side of the acreage. “Well...”, he stalled as he paced before the doors. “They don' need much work on “their” land, they don' know you at all...and you'd be staying with us anyway...” “Yeah, yeah?!” “...So we'll jus' tell those three Ah hired you t'work on th' outer fields and leave it at that. They shouldn't care.” Caramel brushed against Macintosh's left side. He was sure the stud thought it was mischievous, and maybe it was a little...but he craved the tangible security Mac's hide brushed onto him. That, and it was getting colder outside, like it did every night for so many nights by himself. Burying himself in hay during the winter, part of it even covered in snow...he was sure as every hell leaving that behind now if he could. “Are you sure?” “Well...no. But either way, we hafta move it!” Mac tore away from Mel and bolted away from the barn. "H-HEY, WATCH IT! I CAN'T REALLY RUN, YOU KNOW! JERK!" The two stallions galloped hectically (one haphazardly) toward the Apple-Orange Homestead. In spite of all the uncertainty, Caramel was looking forward to some good food and a place to sleep. Maybe...maybe things were about to get better. Day 1The morning sun's rays were blocked by the storm clouds lingering from the middle of the night. The weather team must have been behind. Nevertheless, Caramel roused himself to see where he was, sleepily jostling his head to clear his thoughts. He was in a bed...a very nice one, at that. What had happened last night? Was he so tired that he passed out in front of a hotel in a deranged stupor? He saw blue walls, a green ceiling, a misted window...whatever had happened, he certainly was not in the old barn anymore. He groaned at the thought of making an excuse for the poor hotel owners. “Mnngh.” “GAH!” THUD. “*snort* WHU-WHUT?! WHUT'S GOIN' ON?!” The no-longer-groggy pony pulled himself off the floor and made himself take a deep breath. It was just Big Macintosh. Wait... Oh. OH! Caramel felt himself blushing as he recalled the events of the previous day. The same pony who got him a room indefinitely was staring at him with wide eyes and without a blanket. Sheepishly, he untangled himself from it and threw it back onto the bed. He was mostly just glad he had showered before wrapping himself in it, as well as before formally meeting the Oranges. He remembered nodding and smiling at the "appropriate occasions" at the lavish dinner (fruit salad and crepes; it was like he had died), trying not to look left or right. Other than that, he just ate and went up to bed. Nothing happened. Macintosh came up to the room later and slipped into bed next to him. Nothing happened; they were both extremely tired, and for more than one reason. Apparently, Big Mac wore his yoke to bed. Maybe it cushioned his neck...? It certainly made him look more muscular...ahem. “U-Um...good morning, Mac. Sorry I startled ya.” Mac blinked a couple of times, then rubbed his head. “Mornin'. You okay?” His blush deepened. What a way to wake up the boyfriend. “Yeah. I just...forgot where I was for a second.” His bedmate gave a confused chuckle, then glanced around through heavy-lidded eyes. “Just whut time 'zit anyway?” Mel looked around Mac's room, finally settling on the partially shadowed clock. It was shaped like a navel orange, which to its credit matched with the blue walls nicely. It was difficult to read, though. “Eight fifteen...? No, Eight twenty, sorry.” “That late?!”, Mac shouted before scrambling to get off the bed. “Ah've got work t'do! Th' fields are still idle with everythin' that happened--” “Whoa whoa, slow down!”, Mel cut him off. “Isn't today the Pegasus Race? Your family's probably gone to cheer Fluttershy on—you have a beard!” Big Macintosh turned around and actually tilted his head. He looked like Winona...except for the red part...and he was much bigger...plus his white facial hair wasn't dog-like...so really, he didn't look like her at all. Caramel giggled. “...Eeyup...'zat a surprise? Colts grow facial hair. Don' you?” Mel went to rubbing his muzzle, the sarcasm not lost on him. It felt as smooth as the day he was born. “Nah. Never had to shave once. I just have a naturally smooth face, and I thought you did, too.” “Nnope...Ah'm gonna shave real quick.” The scruffy pony meandered to the adjoining bathroom. “Oh, don't do it because of me! I kinda like it with--” “Ah'm not”, he called out before shutting the door, “...but Ah'll remember that.” It was then that it hit him in full force. He was living with Big Macintosh, albeit temporarily. He was in a relationship with Big Macintosh. He was seeing him from all angles. It was really happening. Wow... While his new boyfriend did his morning ritual, Caramel took the time to examine the room further (the night before, he just went straight for the bed and didn't look back.) Not taking charm into account, it was unremarkable except for a raggedy old doll on the single drawer there. It looked far too old to still be there, but he supposed Macintosh was the type to hold onto old things. Always better to keep using what worked, right? It almost looked strangely familiar... Meh, it wasn't important. Mac came out after a few minutes, fresh and smooth and...gracious. Mel swallowed for control's sake. Come on, don't rush it. Just...just make smalltalk. “It's lucky today's the Race so you can relax a little. They'll be there all morning.” “Eeyup.” Eeyup? You were talking my ear off in the barn! Work with me! “...I guess it's also nice not to wake up with the sun in your eyes. That always annoyed me.” Mac shrugged...this was just getting awkward now. Mel decided to walk up next to him, nuzzling above the yoke and getting a sleepy smile in return. He edged himself forward and pulled Mac down for a kiss. Seeing a compromise with himself, Mel turned it into an intimate mouth-to-mouth exploration, sliding to the floor with a deep-throated moan. Evidently Mac had learned much from last night, not making Mel gag even once. It was just...a nice way to start their morning. Well, apart from the screaming. Five minutes later, they parted and stood up together. “Um...I guess we better get to the Forest.” The diligent farm pony hesitated. “Um...Ah dunno. Ah wuzn't kiddin' 'bout th' fields. They really do need t'get ploughed, the rest of them, that is. Ah know t'ain't polite, but we need that food.” “Oh...alright, then”, the handicapped pony accepted. “So...” “Hm?”, Mac prompted while looking to the fields in question through the window. “If you're going that route...I guess figurin' out how to get me a job skill will have to wait?” Mac turned around and looked to the ceiling for thought's sake. Either that, or he was frustrated? “We can do both.” A shock of elation revived Mel's body as he drank in the sight of his lover. Strong, masculine, thoughtful, reasonable, dedicated...he closed the distance between them and gave him a peck. “I love you.” Macintosh gave a longer kiss in return. It meant something different when it was offered to him...it was just sweeter. “Ah...Ah've dreamed about you saying that t'me, you know.” The dream pony melted at the thought, nuzzling his stud. Some of his own dreams were of snagging Big Macintosh (wearing a suit, for some reason) with a gigantic shoe, catching him in midair and laying a big, fat one on him. The other dreams he had were...well, they weren't that nice. Even though he wasn't wearing a suit, Mac nibbled on his left ear before he whispered: “I love you, too.” The stallion's voice shook him to the core. Even as much as he knew that, just hearing the words made him so thoroughly happy. Not to mention something about his left ear was very sensitive, especially when somepony whispered into it. The last time somepony whispered in that ear was...that one time. He quickly killed that line of thought and just focused on the thrill running through him. He managed to contain himself as they went to eat. Both of them were lacking for conversation, funnily enough. As they finished breakfast, Mel was feeling a little playful. “So didja dream about me declaring my love just earlier?”, he teased. Mac suddenly looked embarrassed, but then he just grinned. “Among other things...” Okay, he wasn't expecting that. Caramel parsed the phrase as many ways as he could as they walked out of the room and out of the house...and then it hit him. “Oh, that's gross, hon,” he chided. Big Mac waggled his eyebrows. Caramel was starting to believe the stadium personality and the farm personality were much closer than he thought. “If'n you don' like that stuff, then yer not ready fer a relationship, sugarbear.” “Touchè. And never call me that again.” “Ah can do that, if'n you never call me 'hon' again.” “What, really?” “...It jus' bothers me. Ah cain't say why.” “Huh. Whatever...what if I called you 'Mac Daddy'?” “Now yer just bein' absurd. Ah'm not ready fer kids.” They had made it to the idle field much quicker than Caramel thought it would have taken. He didn't realize just how close this field was to the old barn...he really saw it for how ratty it was now. The holes in the roof weren't visible, but they painted even more of a bitter picture for him. The field itself stood before all the "useless" sections the Oranges didn't look at more than once, as he understood the situation. Maybe they wanted the orange trees where everypony could see them, something silly like that. The soil was freshly wet with the occasional earthworm wriggling holes into it. Just as Macintosh said, it needed to be ploughed and seeded. The real question was just in what way were they going to test his curse. A rusted plough sat just on the edge of the first section. Maybe he would finally be able to pull one when this was done. The sky was cleared, and the sun was shining merrily as per usual. “Ah'll get some bales out here. Just sit tight.” “Bales? You sure about that?” “Ah wanna git a better look.” Caramel complied, not that he could have done anything else. He found himself actually sitting just before the field, listening to the odd songbird. They certainly didn't have to worry about making bits...or not ruining whatever they perched on. They just had to sing to their potential mates, without fear or doubt pestering them. His mane was ruffled by the damp wind. It was amazing how lonely he could feel even when he would have company in just a moment. BAM! BAM! BAM! Before he had time to react, Caramel was surrounded on both sides by two large square bales and had a third one right above him. Mac must have thought it was funny to throw them like that. Who knew what was going on in that strange pony's head? Big Macintosh came galloping over, or at least that's what Mel inferred from his hearing. “Sorry! Ah didn't mean t'box you in, heh heh!” “You did that on purpose.” “Maybe.” “Why?” “Cuz yer cute when yer flustered.” “...Well, I'm more exasperated than 'flustered'.” “Yer also cute when yer 'zasperated.” “...Really? That's a new one.” “Eeyup; yer just generally cute. Now lemme get these off you.” “Oh, don't bother, I can just--” “Nnope,” Macintosh interrupted. “Ah need t'see it...Jus' wait.” Inexplicably, Caramel felt his anxiety spike as the bales were hefted away from him. He had the strangest fear they were going to discover something horrible. “Okay,” his lover continued, “now do whut you did before to th' one on yer left.” But as he walked up to the bale in question, he felt the need to say: “You know...you've been talking a lot more, lately.” Mac shrugged. After a hard swallow, Caramel tentatively brought his left hoof to the dense grain. He held it there for a while, afraid to press any further. It didn't matter though, as even his inert hoof seemed to be making the bale break apart into loose hay, albeit more slowly. In just seven seconds, it was completely broken. “Heavens t'Betsy...Ah thought you said you could write an' junk.” Mel shrugged. “I guess my hoof just doesn't like hay.” He turned around to see Big Macintosh completely stunned. The champion's face was pale, or as pale as a red face could get, while his own face was surely growing a deep blush. He had forgotten how unsettling the phenomenon was after all this time. “As for the writing bit...only about half the time. I can never tell.” They remained silent for a length of time neither was willing to measure. He had to ease the tension. This was exactly the reason he didn't want to tell anypony about himself...or at least he was pretty sure that was the reason. His mind tended to fold in on itself when he thought about it. “Well..you could break a bale pretty easily, too!” Mac was not amused. “Well, yeah, if'n Ah bucked it! Not by resting mah hoof on it! That's just...that's...oh, Caramel...” The pony of ruin felt a familiar depression on the edge of his heart. He took a long, slow breath to stave it off, opting to look at his stallion sympathizing with him. He had a boyfriend...and what a boyfriend. He must have been doing something right. And if he was doing that something right...who was to say they couldn't overcome this? For the first time in far too long...he actually felt the barest hint of hope. Life was going to get better, even if it took him forever. Two minutes later, his boyfriend cleared his throat. “Well...'zit the same fer every hoof?” Macintosh got to ploughing as his colt demonstrated each hoof's destructive property on the hay. After he quickly and continually rebuilt them into round bales, he would look back occasionally to see body slams, tail whips, headbutts, snorts, exhalations, every technique feasible for tearing the rebuilt hay down every time. It was clear this condition afflicted Caramel's entire body. It was also clear if he hadn't come to his aid sooner, Mel might not have been there to become his boyfriend. Eventually, he stopped looking and just kept his eyes on the ploughing. Not that it made a difference; just hearing it made him cringe. The plough gave him more and more resistance as he carried on. Eventually, he had had enough. “Caramel?” The destroyer looked up from the new hay pile, created from laying on top of it, dear skies above. “Yeah?” “Ah...Ah think that's enough fer today. It's clear whut we're dealing with here.” “Oh, come on,” Caramel complained. “I think I was on to something with the stomach.” Mac suspected something decidedly strange. It scared him just to think about it and angered him from the implication. “You weren't...enjoyin' ruinin' th' hay, were you?” Mel smiled and returned with: “Am I not allowed to?” That's our food...or it woulda been if'n it weren't so old! An' yer supposed t'be findin' a clue! "How can you--" “Well, you try doing that for half an hour. You'd want to make something out of it, too. Heh heh. My favorite one was just barreling straight into it. It was everywhere and your face was--” ROOOOOOOOOAR! “What in Celestia's name was that?!” Mac hastily scanned the area to locate the roar. As best he could tell, it had come from the Everfree Forest. He pointed in that direction. “The forest? That would mean...” “Fluttershy won?” “...I dunno; they sounded pretty angry. Maybe she lost...?” “Hmm...” “Well, we'll go over later and congratulate her. Or offer our condolences.” “...Eeyup.” With that, Mac finished up ploughing the field, as much as the plough seemed to forbid it. It was time for seeding. He started heading for the stockpile when he heard: “Hey, wait.” He turned around, feeling an inexplicable anxiety down in his stomach. “Hmm?” “Are...are you sure your family's okay with us? With me?” Oh, 'zat all? Sheesh. Yer cute when yer paranoid, too. “Eeyup.” He smiled at the affirmation. “Good...then what about the townsponies? They can be--” “We'll be careful. It'll be fine,” he reassured, smiling even wider. He turned back toward the seed storage. They really would be fine...yeah. They just had to be careful. This was going to work. Eeyup. Big Macintosh searched for the hayseeds within the stockpile, letting his mind wander. It was readily understood that Mel would just sit by the field and watch, to avoid any incident. In retrospect, the constant spilling and dislocation of seeds during Winter Wrap Up made sense to him now. A normal klutz would have just dropped them in one place, but those seeds completely vanished. Perhaps they shriveled up and blew away...? Maybe that's why he didn't attend the one this year; he was just too much of a liability. It depressed Mac so much not to see Caramel there that he couldn't finish the field work. It stung, too, because everypony else was working so hard on the other tasks, yet the fields ended up neglected. At least the mystery was solved now. With the seeds in tow, Mac started heading out of the stockpile when it was buffeted by a massive surge of wind. He cringed as the wood creaked and bent under the pressure...but what made him jump was when the stockpile as a whole was pushed to the left. It took a great deal of effort to make sure his seeds didn't ironically fly out onto the ground. A little shaken and wild eyed, the seed sower walked out of the buffeted shack to see that his seated audience was much more wild eyed than he, pupils fully dilated and staring at the sky. For some unfathomable reason, three butterflies were resting in his hair. There weren't any butterflies in this area, so their presence made the former wide eyed out of sheer confusion. “It...it was...”, Caramel gasped, “it was like nothing I've ever seen before. I...I can't even describe it.” “...Mml?” He set the seeds down for the moment. “T-there were so many colors...it was like my eyes went on vacation.” “Mel, what the hells happened?!” The pony plus butterflies blinked, then returned to normalcy...or at least he hoped that was the case. “I honestly don't know. It went by too quickly. All I can say is that it was big, and colorful, and weird.” Two of the butterflies fluttered away, while the remainder pulled Caramel's mane back to how it looked before the...thing. It then fluttered off to its waiting fellows. “So...Ah'll go plant these seeds,” said Macintosh as he picked them back up. “You do that," said Caramel. Halfway through planting the seeds, Caramel seemed completely back to normal. Mac saw him pacing up and down the perimeter of the field, being careful not to get too close. His chest tightened at the fact the pony had to do that at all...that sort of affliction should not have existed. He found himself marveling at how Mel managed to scrape by without asking for help for so long. It was a worthy question among many others he had. Mac seized the opportunity, taking the lanyard out of his mouth and putting it around his neck. Inconvenient though it was, he could still seed the fields that way, and this was too good of an opportunity. “So...you really lived in that old barn fer a year?” Caramel kept pacing...that was a weird drift he had. Huh. Well, he fixed it quick enough. Maybe that was why running was difficult for the pretty pony. “Sure did. It wasn't that bad, really. Nopony bothered me, food was plentiful, the rainwater was...well, it was there. I made do.” Mac felt his throat tighten at the way Mel said he "made do." Just thinking about all that time he spent alone made him testy. The little pony needed to start being honest today. “Mmhmm. So you lived there durin' Winter Wrap-Up an' everythin'?” He felt his seed box tremble, but got a hold of it. “Nngh...yeah, yeah, I did. I lived there for the last one, too. I would've told you, but I was just too distracted, and...yeah, distracted.” Macintosh squinted at his little stallion. He wanted to press for details...but ultimately decided to drop it. All he needed to know it there was no good reason for it. “Uh-huh. An' you exhausted every job avenue there is?” “O-ho yeah,” Caramel answered in a bittersweet tone. “We got desperate for a while; we even tried to sell me as a paperweight. Can you imagine? A paperweight, Mac. And you know what? I ruined the ink after I had to get up. Worst idea we ever had, hooves down.” Mac felt his shoulders tense up slightly. “So I like how you want to just research my...whatsit. Job searching won't really get us anything.” “We?” Mel seemed to falter. “Well, heh, you're just as invested in this as I am. I figure it's your job, too, once we get it.” “Nnope,” Macintosh corrected. “You said 'we' before you referred to 'me'. Who's th' third?” He couldn't see it from there, but he guessed Caramel's lip was trembling. The little stallion wasn't going to dodge this forever; Mac would make him talk about it. “...My dad.” Now Big Macintosh was considerably tense. He felt his blood pumping through his veins. “How is yer daddy these days?”, he asked as 'politely' as he could muster. “...I wouldn't know.” “Mmhmm.” He kept sewing the seeds perfectly. “Shoot...last I saw him, he was packing his things...at least I think so. Th-that was when I was asking him to appeal to the Princess. He...refused. Probably because he was embarrassed.” “...Embarrassed, you say?” “Yeah.” “Mmhmm.” Still perfect, but his hoof made the box shake with each sowing. “And then...well, you know the rest.” That made him stop. His entire body was on fire. “Wait.” Caramel froze. Mac felt the slightest twinge of guilt, but it was quickly forgotten. “Y-yeah?” “So you're sayin' he never came t'see you after he trashed you?” “...No.” “Not even once?” “...N-no. He moved to Canterlot and I never saw him again.” “Uh-HUH,” he grunted through clenched teeth, starting to sew the seeds a little messily. His boyfriend's voice sounded far away, his ears picking up the box rattle more than anything else. “Mac...don't get any funny ideas, okay?” “Funny ideas?”, he answered with a manic giggle. “Now whut d'you mean by 'funny ideas', babe?” “Mac, 'babe', you're scaring me. W-what's wrong?” He threw the seed box someplace he didn't care to know. He was panting; he was shaking; he had trouble seeing straight. Nevertheless, he made his way over to a cowering Caramel. “Ah jus' don' git it,” he spat. “Ah don' git how somepony could abandon 'is own flesh an' blood like that. It makes me SEETHE, Caramel. It makes me SEETHE to think o' how this happened right under mah nose. H-he was embarrassed? EMBARRASSED?! Ah bet that's why he left you, too, that same EMBARRASSMENT." BOOM. "DAMN IT ALL!” He had stomped just before where the love of his life stood, making the wet earth crumble. He hated how Caramel was shaking...but then, he hated plenty of things right then. He hated how this debacle was years in the making. He hated how it managed to slip under the radar of everypony else. And he hated how Caramel probably still wanted to keep quiet about it. But more than anything else, he hated how he was too angry at the moment to comfort him. “N-now just relax,” the victim tried to soothe. “It happened a few years ago, I've moved on, and that's still my dad you're talking about, so cool it,” he ended on a forceful note. “Yer dad,” the savior grunted through gnashing teeth, “is somepony I don' wanna see anytime soon...Nnope, scratch that, Ah wanna see 'im right now. Ah wanna see his big, smug face right before Ah--” Mel jumped onto his hooves, eyes suddenly full of a rage that had no reason to be. “YOU JUST SHUT UP!” “YOU JUS' LISTEN! If Ah had mah way, that overgrown DEMON wouldn't walk this earth anymore. T'think ponies like that EXIST; what th' HELLS kind o' world are we livin' in?!” He couldn't see anything but Caramel now. He didn't want to see anything else, as the pony's face twisted in his own anger. He wanted him angry in the worst way. He wanted him to dare to fight back. “You're a FINE one to throw around words like OVERGROWN, you hypocrite!” “An' yer DEFENDIN' 'IM! That SLAYS me, Mel, an' no joke. Did he come 'round last night and MAGICALLY redeem 'imself while we SLEPT?! Magic don' work that way, babe! Even if'n it did, NO magic could save THAT pony, Ah'll tell you whut!” “LOOK, you don't KNOW the pony; I DO! You believe or don't believe what you want, but I'LL speak on the subject of MY father, NOT YOU.” Oh, like that was going to work. “Ah ALSO can't believe YOU jus' let all this HAPPEN!” That shut him up. The pony's jaw moved, but couldn't utter a sound. “YER th' victim, YOU should be th' one rantin' an' ravin', not ME! It DISGUSTS me, it SADDENS me t'think o' how you prolly jus' SAT BACK an' TOOK IT ALL, leavin' ME t'come an' rescue you!” “RESCUE me?!” “...You were livin' in a condemned rat hole, Mel. Ah saved you, no doubt 'bout that.” “Oh, really?!” Mel butted heads with the big workpony. Good. He wouldn't need comforting now. “For your INFORMATION, Mr. Savior, I would have been just FINE if you hadn't DESTROYED me at that damn TRACK-AND-FIELD! I had PLANS, Macintosh. Plans based on that day that would have gotten me somewhere nice. And DON'T EVEN tell me you didn't know, the point is you just HELPED me; you did not 'SAVE' me.” “Oh, that soon?”, Big Macintosh countered sourly. “Those plans you had made for, oh, whut wuz it...YESTERDAY?! OBVIOUSLY, you were ahead o' the curve! Not to mention, since Ah DESTROYED you as you said, that...put a...crimp on yer plans...” Whut th' hells am Ah doin'? His ears drooped as his resolve faded. He shouldn't have been yelling at Caramel. He had no good reason to be mad at this pony; especially not when words like that were being thrown around the field. “...Destroyed you?” Caramel took a deep breath, seemingly calming down...but his ears drooped, too. “It was...pretty bad, Mac. I've never been bested at my own talent before. It broke me. But not because I have any real pride in my shoe throwing, because...well, you know.” The damp wind rushed through both their manes. They were both sweaty. “You should be proud o' yer talent,” the eldest Apple sibling objected weakly. “Everypony should.” The disgraced pony's expression remained somber as he said: “If I could eke out any bits from it, I would be. It's not that I hate shoe tricks, really – I used to love it – it's just...everything else...” “Oh, Caramel...” Macintosh sat both of them down and leaned in to touch heads more gently. He only moved to lick above Caramel's muzzle, not wanting to break the connection. “Ah'm sorry Ah yelled at you.” Caramel licked him back. “It's okay. It was...kind of impressive, actually.” That he did not expect. He pulled back to gauge Caramel's whole expression, which turned out to be...eager? Huh? “Impressive?” “Yeah!”, his strange boyfriend confirmed. “You were just into it. I was ready to take you down but you weren't having any of it! I...kind of liked it...Not all of it, but a good deal of it, at least.” Even as much as he didn't expect that, he never expected this. He couldn't help looking aside as the revelation pummeled what sanity he had reclaimed from the shouting match. “Y-You liked it?” He had to eliminate any ambiguity, else...he didn't want to think about it at the moment. Caramel giggled. He actually giggled. His eyes closed as his mouth turned a grin and everything. “Yeah...it got me riled up. I just felt alive, y'know?” His wild expression was dangerous for too many reasons. “...Ah threatened yer father an' insulted you, an' you liked it?!” “Yeeeeah, the second part is where I fell off that wagon,” Mel answered glibly. It was then the ranter realized just what he had said; and he said a lot. No matter how much his colt giggled, it didn't change that. “Ah...Ah didn't mean that stuff. Ah saw those bales, you couldn't've--” He was shushed by the insulted pony's hoof. “Mac...it's okay. You were angry, it happens...but it's good you didn't mean it,” Mel admitted with a smile. The cute pony looked askance to the stockpile before adding: “As for the stuff about my dad...well...it was nice to see you stand up for me. Even if it was a little overkill.” A terrified Macintosh tried to understand what just happened. His boyfriend liked it when he shouted and villified his horrible father. When he shouted about that miserable excuse for a pony...Mel liked it. He kissed the hoof against his muzzle, despite the dirt it had gathered. Mel lowered the now wet hoof. “...Ah suppose Ah can live with that. A little overkill every now an' then can be good,” he said with a nervous grin. Caramel raised his eyebrows. That was more of what he was expecting. “Well, I don't wanna catch you making a habit of it.” He didn't feel nervous anymore, snorting as some anger returned. “No promises there.” “Mac...” “He ain't worth th'--” “MAC!” He looked to Caramel's inexplicably stern face and quieted himself. He wasn't used to having to do that, not since he was little. It made him feel dirty. “Babe...come on,” the abandoned son soothed. “Life's hard enough without making it harder. Let's just figure my stupid body out and move on.” The last sentence echoed in his head as he tried to contain himself. But then he remembered...he had no reason to. He was used to doing it for so long, but now the colt was right there in front of him, trying to appease him. Perfect. “Yer body ain't stupid.” Caramel looked confused...then smiled. As his mare ran a hoof down his chest, Mac felt it was a smile he would come to anticipate. “It ain't?” “Nnope...Ah'll prove it t'you.” That was when the tickling started. Pinned“That was stupendous!” “Simply breathtaking!” “I'll treasure the memory for the rest of my life!” “That was awesome! I need to get back home, though...” “...I say, darling, did you hear the latest?” “Oh? My lady, what could it be?” “They say the Oranges have a new worker...but he's never moved a plough in his life!” “Surely you jest!” “I jest not!” “What? The Apple Family has a new worker? Who?” “That's weird; I thought they had sorted everything out already. Then again, Wrap Up was a flop...” “Like, chah, that was, rebelatory! I never knew that klutz could do anythang!” “Hold on, madam: a klutz, you said?” “Ohmigawsh, yes! That klutz from the Stallions' Shield Cup or whatevar; he was super grumpeh.” “Hmm...there's only one colt I know of that could fit that description.” “I hope Sylvia's not gonna be mad at me for being late; who could blame me after seeing that?!” “I believe his name was Karmel, darling.” “Karmel? Oh, that can't be right. Who would name their son Karmel, that's absurd.” “Focus, you silly stallion...it's tentative, but there's cause to believe this new pony...is light on his hooves.” “WHAT?!” “WAAAAT?!?! That, like, explains a lot, because I, like, could not get him ta look at mah new hurr!” “...Wait, what does, like, 'light on his hooves' mean anyway?” “My good madam, that will shake this fair town to its foundation if it's true!” “I will keep you posted, darling. Toodles!” “Ta ta!” “Like, no, Toodles is at home! I can't take that puppeh anywhar!” “What did I hear just now? Something about puppies and hooves...” “Psst! Karmel's gay!” “Karmel? Gay? What the hay are you talking about?” “It means he dates stallions.” “WHAT?!” “Yeah! And get this...” Big Macintosh and Caramel ended up staying on the newly seeded field for the rest of the day, mostly just playing with each other, taking their minds off the situation and whatnot. As a result, they completely forgot about Fluttershy, but they decided that was just as well. She had her friends to congratulate her or console her either way; but the two of them needed to get to know each other better... As the sun set, the two headed back to the Homestead. A lot had been said back on that field, so it was hard to know what to say now. The latter decided to make smalltalk. “So how have you and the Oranges been getting along?” Mac grimaced. “I see.” “Eeyup.” Mel glanced to the town: it had gotten so much bigger that it was at risk of creeping up the valley itself. There were gentlecolt's clubs and ritzy sports parks and tourist booths and funky modern residences and businesses he didn't even know existed until now. They had even installed a small amusement park with a roller coaster; it was ridiculous. Something had to be done, but even now, he couldn't think of a thing. He just hoped they weren't here to stay. “Am I...going to have a problem with 'em?”, he asked as he turned away. His roommate just kept facing forward. He couldn't blame the guy. “Just do whut Ah do; don' engage 'em. It's *cough* not worth it.” “...Okay.” “Yer in luck, though; they won't be home 'till later.” He looked to 'home'. “They won't?” “Nnope,” he said with embellishment. “They're 'tourin'' right now.” “Again? I thought they toured yesterday. Wouldn't they be familiar with the town by now, at any rate?” “You'd think that, but you'd be *cough* wrong. Apparently.” Caramel turned to see Macintosh's completely unconvincing smile. It was almost frightening to see the stud express anything that wasn't genuine; but he chalked it up to yet another new discovery about Big Mac. “Since when did you get so sarcastic?” The plastered smile failed. “...Ah blame them.” The former turned pensive as he said: “What exactly went wrong, anyway? I thought they were just visiting y'all. They weren't even here to see Spike!” The latter turned dark as he said: “They got greedy. Simple as that.” Mel glanced to the town again. He had to stop doing that; it was depressing. “Well, let's just go get dinner.” Big Mac nodded wordlessly. “I wonder what we'll have tonight? That salad last night had me reeling. I'll bet it's good.” “It's pasta.” Caramel beamed as Applejack told him before entering the house. He stopped as soon as he registered her plasticine face, however. “...Is there a problem with pasta?” “Oh NO,” the pasta maker exaggerated in a city voice, “it's a DELIGHTFUL dish. Why, I myself am SO eager to partake of it!” She ushered them in, her face obviously struggling to maintain composure. He looked to the sane sibling, whose face remained neutral. The sarcastic face was thankfully nowhere to be seen. “She doesn't like pasta?”, he whispered. Big Mac shook his head. “But they do.” Big Mac nodded. “So I'm just lucky she served something I like.” After a second, Big Mac nodded. “Your throat's sore, isn't it?” Big Mac nodded with a frown. “Well, let's eat.” “Eeyu-*cough* *hack*!” “GAAH! REVOLTING!” “I thought you said--” “*hack* *wheeze*” “Nevermind...” “So...Caramellow, was it?” 'Caramellow' looked to Clementine. Unsure of how to respond, he just made an “I'm listening” face. “How was your first day on the job, if you don't mind me asking, darling...?” After an intentional pause, he made a “It wasn't too bad” face. “I see you're practicing nonverbal communication,” interjected Mosely. “What fun! I think I'll have a go.” Mosely made a “So how was your day REALLY?” face to 'Caramellow'. Caramel responded with a “Fair to middlin'” face. Applejack shot him a “What in Equestria do you think yer doin'?” face. Big Macintosh tapped him on the shoulder, showing him the same face as his sister's. Granny Smith and Applebloom, as it turned out, were making the same face. Caramel made a general “I'm uncomfortable” face. Clementine expertly gave a “Well, don't be so gauche, darling” face. Valencia discreetly made a “What exactly is going on?” face to her husband. Mosely reassured her with a “Just a bit of fun, sweetheart” face. Caramel started to panic, making a “Wow, this pasta sure is good!” face. The Apples mimicked his face, while the Oranges responded with an “It must be a rural custom” face. Big Macintosh privately gave Caramel an “It's okay” face. Caramel smiled. As they settled into bed, Mel cuddled up to his big red pony and buried his muzzle in the withers. Macintosh chuckled softly, probably trying not to upset his throat. He felt so warm...the kind of warmth of which he had dreamed for years to have by his side; he was swimming in that gentle love submerging him without asking anything in return. It was enough to make him forget the subtle chaos outside their home for just one night... But as always, Caramel still had concerns. He pulled his muzzle up. “Babe?” “Hmm...?” Mac's voice was still weak, poor guy. “You don't have to answer right now," he whispered apologetically, "but...I'd like to know if you have a plan for my problem. All we know so far is it affects all of me...which to be honest, I already knew.” His partner sighed...then wheezed softly as he shook his head. “Nothing, huh?”, confirmed Caramel with a hint of dread. “Ponyfeathers...” Suddenly, Mac shook Mel off and turned to face him. The former motioned toward the latter's side of the bed. “Huh?” Mac motioned again. “Turn over?” Mac nodded and smiled. “...Okay.” The anxious pony complied, and was rewarded with a very warm, very big body embracing him from behind. He giggled stupidly as he was kissed on his right cheek. “Hmm...we'll figure it out.” He got kissed on the neck. “Goodnight.” Caramel was in a field. He was a little colt again, playing in the mud without a care. It splashed and flew and landed everywhere. He didn't have to worry about Dad dragging him to another interview now; it was just mud, mud, mud. Mud everywhere. The mud was on the sky. It was literally all over him. He panicked, trying to find his way home before he couldn't see anything anymore. Mud was pouring from his hooves and cutie mark, smothering everything underneath him. He ran faster and faster, making more and more mud to pour behind him and to the sides. Eventually, all he saw was an ugly mix of brown and black. “Hello?! Anypony?! HELP ME!” The little colt ran to every corner, finding himself blocked inside a doorless room. He was completely trapped. “Daddy, I'm scared.” For a second, he thought he heard the sound of a pen clicking...but it was too far away to tell. He pushed himself against one wall, which became all he could see. He struggled and struggled, throwing all of his might against it only to lose his nerve. He slumped and began to cry. “Daddy, please help me...I'm lost.” After a second, Caramel heard the sound of burrowing in front of him. He peered at the fathomless wall...and recoiled when a little Macintosh came bursting through. He was panting with his tongue out, like a dog. Without prompt, he licked Caramel generously. The wagging tongue collected the mud, which was eaten eagerly. “...Macintosh? What happened to you? And why did you eat that?!” He got licked again. And again. As Little Macintosh kept doing it, he got bigger and older, falling down the viscous wall. The licks became tender and strategic. Caramel didn't feel himself grow; he was just a mud-free adult there with Big Macintosh, opting to connect their tongues into a proper kiss. They intertwined decadently as the walls melted. The brown slid down the walls until only black was left. It seemed to pulsate. Mel tried to close his eyes and enjoy the caress, but his eyes were stretched open and his ears were pinned to the sky. A shrill, demonic, feminine voice assaulted him from all corners. It was getting closer. “THIS IS YOUR PRECIOUS PARADISE!” “MMMFH!”, he cried out to his lover. Mac kept kissing him...but he became more and more passionate. He got so invigorated that he shoved his colt against the sky, drinking in the blackness that pulsated around both of them. He drank mindlessly, drinking and drinking until Mel couldn't see him at all. “THPPP, MKKNTOTH!” Black Macintosh slowed his pace down, savoring every curve their tongues made. Then he stopped, pulling away very slowly. Caramel tried to close his eyes. He fought against the psychic pins as hard as he could...but he was stuck. His lover grew fangs and moved in for the kill. Caramel silently screamed as his body was overwhelmed with adrenaline. He was sweaty and confused and disoriented, and on top of it all he was being restrained! He needed to find Big Macintosh, and fast. “Mmmfh.” ...Oh. There he was. Right behind him, like before. The restraints were his legs. He's right there, he's right there, he's right there. He's not evil. He's right there. He repeated the mantra to himself while breathing deeply. That dream was certainly new. If he wasn't careful, he might wake Mac like the day before. But then again, what time was it? Blinking his tired eyes, he spotted the clock with much less effort this time. It was six o'clock. So he slept soundly through most of the night, that was good. He wasn't too familiar with morning farm schedule, other than it started early. He decided to rouse the farm pony for better or for worse. “Mac? Mac...” He felt the legs wrapped around him bring him in closer and tighten their grip. His stud made a sleepy giggle. “Mac! Get up!” He tapped the hooves around his chest, which were thankfully just below his own. He was finding it increasingly difficult to resist the unconscious cuddling. After all, today was going to be significantly frustrating, if last night was any indication. Why not just enjoy it? Just as the thought occurred to him, a bead of sweat dropped from his muzzle and onto the sheets. “Mac! Big Macintosh, let go of me!” He felt the entangled legs loosen as Mac roused. Mel amused himself with the picture of the champion of the Stallions' Field Cup with heavy-lidded eyes and bed hair. It was a shame he still couldn't move to see it. “*snort* Whut?” “You awake?” His boyfriend grumbled. His voice sounded better, that was good. “Eeeeeyup. Somethin' wrong? Wait, whut time 'zit?” “Six.” “...Oh, good, jus' in time. Thanks.” Macintosh finally retreated from Caramel and got up off the bed. The pony remaining glanced to see the face he had imagined, except the real one also had some sleep lines and stubble. Just how old was his stud anyway? He never thought to ask, funnily enough. “Um, sorry if this is a stupid question,” he hazarded, “but just in time for what?” “Nnope, it's a good question,” the groggy pony answered. “It's time fer you to get t' th' field.” Mel wasn't sure he heard that right. Maybe his ears were still pinned to the darkness. “Uh, whaddya mean by that?” “Ah meant just that. Clem's suspicious of you, so it's best you git out there an'...”, he stopped to look outside the door before coming back in, “make like yer workin'. Ah'll join you later, but Ah need t'keep up 'pearances, you know. In fact...let's just make this a rule fer now.” The suspect couldn't help but feel he was being cast aside somehow. “You sure?” “Eeyup. Plus,” he added in a seemingly nervous tone, “it might be good fer her t'see me away from you fer once. Ah say might. Ah could...jus' be paranoid.” The feminine shriek in Caramel's dream came back to him. It seemed strangely significant to him now, making him clammy and anxious like his partner. “...Paranoid about what?” “L-look, just git out there. Ah'll snag some food fer you later. Git!” Despite their mutual paranoia, nothing happened that day. But this also meant no real progress was made. Both of them went to bed feeling decidedly less optimistic. Inescapable“Good heavens...those two really are brave to do what they do, aren't they?” Big Macintosh couldn't help but overhear Applejack and Clementine make conversation as the first two checked the health of the orange saplings toward the entrance. They weren't about to neglect their plant life, tempting though it was in this case. The cream-colored filly simply sat by the perimeter and gabbed about whatever she felt like, whenever she felt like it. Most of it was ignorable, especially when it came to her dark brown curls (she emphasized the color every time she mentioned it.) That particular rhetorical question, however, made him take notice. Out of habit, he glanced to his left to see the “approved” fields stretch out to where Caramel must have been waiting. A couple of butterflies hovered around the apple saplings there, but nothing else was noteworthy. Yesterday was a wash: all they learned was his left hind leg was indeed weaker than the others, so it did less damage. He didn't want whatever she had to say to ruin this one, too. Applejack wasn't visible to him, but he was sure she was squinting 'that squint' as she asked: “Those two...?” “Oh, your brother and his workmate, dear. Such a risky policy on their parts!” An' jus' whut are you plannin' now? “An' jus' whut are you talkin' 'bout?” Macintosh kept inspecting the saplings. Something about Clem's voice made her compelling enough; but then her eyes just sparkled at the listener. He had seen the deadly combination bewitch her parents into the dangerous pair that invalidated Granny's royal deed to the land. Or maybe it just revealed who they really were the whole time...that was going around lately. He made himself keep his face forward and refused to participate in the banter, no matter how much he wanted to shut her yap. “Well, running off and reducing their work time, of course! It must make things so hard for them when they have to catch up.” Clem had that tone of hers again, the sickeningly sweet one. He didn't like where this was going. But he had to let it go there, or she would just make things worse. “Ah reckon they can handle it.” His sister sounded edgy, and who could blame her? “I would 'reckon' the same if it weren't becoming a habit already,” the little filly almost sang. A habit? Whut're they teachin' foals o'er in Manehattan? “A habit?” “Yes, dear.” “They only did it once! How is that a habit?” This reassured him. He just had to make sure it only happened the once, and no trouble would come to them. Wait... Oh, now he saw what was shaping up here. “Well, it's perhaps not a habit as far as the word means,” Clem teased, “but you know what they say about boys and their break time.” “Ah don' reckon Ah do.” “There's that silly word again! But you must know what I'm saying. All it would take is the slightest desire...and those two would leave the fields fallow for their own pleasure!” This was getting dangerous. Caramel's boyfriend moved on to the next row of saplings as nonchalantly as he could, but his hide fur already bristled at the probable conclusion: perhaps what she was going to threaten to do...was in the works even as they were checking the plants. “Whut 'zactly are you trying t'say, Miss Clemmy?” “I am not saying anything other than those two had better watch themselves. Who knows what could get in their heads? I myself have heard stories of ponies losing their minds when not working.” Losin' their minds...you said that fer a reason, Ah'm sure of it. “Oh, really?”, Applejack countered. “Then perhaps Ah should find a job fer you. There's plenty t'do 'round here!” Heh heh. Ah'd like t'see that! “He he! Maybe I should. Oh, by the way: the last two rows of saplings don't need anything today.” But he already knew it wouldn't happen. She wouldn't be caught in her own trap. Especially when it seemed she had already snagged her game...like a baby cockatrice luring a hapless traveler into its nest. No pesky questions, not askin' fer mah input...eeyup. Whutever she's done, she's already done it. “Really? Mind if'n Ah check? Not that Ah don' trust you, mind.” “But of course! Go right ahead!” As much as he tried to resist the sweet little voice, as much as he tried to think of Caramel's slightly goofy tenor instead...the other Apple sibling finally felt his natural curiosity get the best of him. He looked to the sapling rows in question, only to meet the slippery pony's gaze. She had an eerily serene look, from her lime green ribbons offsetting her crimson eyes, to her pastel blue dress billowing in the April wind. This pony would never look like she belonged. “Those really are some troubling stories, though,” she continued, keeping Mac's eyes trained on her. “If they're not careful, those two...we could be hearing a story like them soon.” “Oh, fiddlesticks, sugarcube. That's th' least o' our—HAY, GIT BACK HERE!” The filly's last words were screaming in his brain. There was only one way she could have known. He was running as fast as whatever sanity he had left would allow; except he knew Clementine had drawn his sister over to her so he could do just that, without his sister catching up to him. But as fear pummeled his insides, he found he cared less and less. However she was doing it, however it came to pass, they had to get away from it. Too much was at stake. He had to tell Caramel, and fast. “I was wondering when you'd—whoa whoa WHOA SLOW DOWN!” Macintosh screeched to a full stop just before where Caramel stood. He did thankfully manage to ensure most of the displaced dirt didn't belong to the recently ploughed fields...but not all of it. Either way, his colt ended up covered in mud. He didn't seem to like it. He took a few seconds to calm himself down, mostly to start planning what would happen next. “Mel, we hafta git away from here. We're bein' watched.” “...How about I finish having a horrifying flashback, then we go?” “Whut?” He really didn't have time for this...but what? Mel made a strained laugh before explaining: “Long story short, I had a nightmare...and I'm reliving it in the worst way.” “Look, could you jus'--” “BIG MACINTOSH, GET YER SORRY SELF BACK HERE!” “Oh, horseapples!” Seeing no other option, he threw the muddy Caramel onto his back and dashed to the right, away from the field. The slimy silt didn't bother him as much as the hot pursuit his sister was making, which made him feel slimy without question. He had to lose her before they got to the barn; it was the only way. “Hold on, an' don' you dare let go.” As he felt Mel cling to him, Mac bolted to the left, making a large arc. He diverted around one of the larger hills. It made the trip longer, but it also made him harder to track with all the curves he was going to make behind it and beyond. Hoofsteps followed them across the stretch, but he knew what to do. It wasn't nice, but he had to do it. His sister was never one for deception...one way or the other. It must have taken every ounce of self-restraint she had to keep smiling at the dinner table. He hated that he was holding secrets from her at a time like this. But if she caught him, he'd have to tell her about Clementine; she'd either think it was ridiculous or horrifying. Whichever it was, she would discuss it with the Oranges, which was unacceptable. Too much damage had already been done. The town was probably spreading rumors as fast as he was galloping to avoid them. They were reaching the last third of the arc...and there sat the barn in the distance. Mac dared to glance back: she was obscured by the collective slope of the hills. He got closer and closer...and then found a safe spot some odd meters before the barn itself. He nearly threw Caramel off his back making a sharp turn, reaching the back of the crevice and finally slowing down to a stop. The whole route was convoluted, but it promised to hide them. Not wanting any hint of their presence, Applejack's brother preemptively shushed his boyfriend. The hoofsteps slowed down as they stopped where the barn stood. “AH KNOW YER IN THERE!” Breathe in, breathe out. “AH'LL GIVE YOU ONE CHANCE T'COME CLEAN! COME OUTTA THERE!” Did Caramel kiss his hoof? Odd time to do so... “T'AIN'T FUNNY, BIG BROTHER!” He agreed on that account. “YOU MADE US LOOK FOOLISH, Y'KNOW! AH BELIEVE THAT FILLY'S SNEAKY LIKE YOU SAY...but t'ain't no reason t'bolt like that! Just come out o' there, real civil like, and let's make amends.” If only it were that simple...Breathe in, breathe out. “ALRIGHT, IF'N YER GONNA BE THAT WAY, AH'M COMIN' IN THERE!” BAM! “...OH, AIN'T YOU JUS' SO CLEVER. AH KNOW YER NEARBY! SHOW YERSELF!” All three of them waited impatiently. The sun was going to set soon. “...FINE. IF YER NOT BACK IN FIFTEEN MINUTES, YOU WON'T LIKE WHUT AH DO 'BOUT IT!” She galloped the short way back to the farm, narrowly missing their spot. Once the area was safe, both the scandalized stallions flopped to the ground. Their heart rates began to settle. Macintosh looked to Caramel. While he wasn't looking, the little pony must have cleaned himself remarkably quietly. “So...”, the now clean pony started, “mind telling me what that was about?” Mac scanned the area: it didn't seem suspect. But then, how was he to tell? “That area we ran from wuz bein' monitored. Ah don' know how, Ah don' know who by, but that spyin' may've put us in a heap o' trouble.” Mel didn't seem to understand. “...Monitored? Why?” Well, at least he didn't question it, not that it would have been unreasonable. But time was precious. “Why not? We're two stallions in love, doin' questionable things away from where ponies can see. Ah'm not th' smartest pony, but even Ah know details ain't needed t'stir up th' townsponies. Y'know 'em as well as Ah do; it won't be pretty.” Mel was shivering a little now, poor guy, as he said: “W-well...I'd say you're pretty smart. I barely even considered h-how intrusive they can be.” The champion snorted. “Be thankful. Frankly, Ah'd rather you not be bothered...Ah'd rather it never came up.” The loser was still shivering. It seemed Caramel's life was nowhere near leaving him in peace, but Macintosh was nowhere near giving up on him...just maybe giving up on something else. He had to pick his battles here. "W-We're so vulnerable...and here I thought we were shut off from the world. T-That's what I get for being silly, huh?" He saw Mel forcing himself to take deep breaths. Mac pulled him closer and nuzzled him. After a while, Mel calmed down enough to where he could speak again. “A-Any idea who it might be?” He shuddered, feeling pinpricks all over his body for each imaginary eye scrutinizing him. “Well, Ah meant Ah don' know who's doin' th' actual spyin'. Clementine's probably usin' th' info.” “Oh, don't be stupid," retorted Mel, despite him still shivering slightly. "How would she even understand this sort of thing?” “She doesn't have ta; she just has t'know t'ain't normal. That's all it takes...” Mel looked toward the town as he asked: “S-so...what do we do now?” “Well...Ah like th' idea o' gettin' th' hells outta here. Maybe Appleloosa or Illineigh, somewhere quiet.” Mac felt his blood pressure rise at the choices. “What?!", exclaimed Caramel, pulling away. "That's a terrible idea! Once everypony knows we've gone, they'll just go crazy with stories!” “But if'n we stay here, we'll be paraded 'round like track-an'-field champeens!”, countered the swaggerless pony. The confusing memory still made him queasy. He was tempted to vomit that day just so they would leave him alone, not that it would have been hard. “...So either way, we're screwed.” “Eeyup.” The barn looked inviting to him now. “In that case, I say we stay and face the music,” a suddenly brave Mel proposed. Mac gulped. The eyes pricked him even deeper. “...Well, if you could do that alone, that'd be nice. Ah cain't stand th' thought of it.” Caramel looked disgusted, but just raised his eyebrows as he said: “Nice try. If I'm doing it, you're doing it.” “...Ah want 'nother plan.” “There ain't no other plan, babe!”, Mel struck back. “Why are you trying to squirm out of this? What, you're suddenly shy again? That competition never happened, is that what you're saying?” Big Macintosh flinched. His lover seemed to know exactly how to get at him, and at the worst time. Just what he needed. “Th-that's got nothin' t'do with this, an' you know it.” “Oh, yeah?!”, Mel escalated. “Then tell me this: why did you enter in the first place?” Upon hearing those words, his throat dried up, his will to fight died. He looked to his usually sweet and sassy lover with nothing but fear. Please, anythin' but this. “That always bothered me,” the loser continued. “You're just not the type to go preening around like that...or at least I thought you weren't. I believe you got carried away like you said...but what made you enter anyway? What did you have to gain?” “C-Caramel...can this wait? We got other issues--” “No. I want an answer. It makes no sense for you to do what you did, not for anypony else but you. So just say it now and get it over with. What are you hiding from me?” “...” Please, jus' drop it. “Well?!” “...Ah...Ah...” Please, forgive me. “Just spit it out.” “...Ah...entered that competition...because o' you.” CreviceAs he knew Caramel would be, the pony was completely dumbfounded. And why wouldn't he be? It was an awful way to put it, dammit. He was always doing that. “...What...What the hells does that mean?” He just had to come clean. He was busted no matter what he did now. “...Well...Ah guess there's no nice way t'say it. Ah wanted t'make you angry.” Predictably, this seemed to make him...oh, still confused. Fair enough. “You wanted...to make me angry. Explain that to me.” The former swaggerer sighed. “Remember how Ah said Ah fell in love with you when we were both young?” “Yeah...I did, too. So?” “Well," he began reluctantly, "waitin' fer all that time wuzn't easy. Ah distracted m'self with work an' sometimes watchin' you nudge trees or whutever. So when you made yerself scarce...” “Uh-huh...” Caramel looked to the barn. “It burned me up inside. Ah thought Ah could handle it, but Ah missed you too much. Th' most Ah felt Ah could do wuz tell mah family 'bout me. An' even then, Ah hated it. Then everythin' started changin'--” “Focus, babe.” He shook his head before continuing: “Sorry. Anyway, when th' Cup came 'round, AJ bugged me t'go compete, nevermind why. Ah wuzn't interested 'till Ah saw you of all ponies were part of it. An' that was when it hit me.” The love of his life looked apprehensive. “...Go on.” “Ah had never seen you angry before, ever. You always smiled when you had trouble before, an' that wuz whut drew me t'you. But you never seemed t'be mad or frustrated as long as Ah had known you. Ah...Ah felt it, then.” “It?” “Seein' as you were gonna go against athletes, Ah knew you were gonna hafta show yer anger. An' Ah wanted it. Ah entered t'make you mad...t'make you mad at me. Ah wuz greedy for it, t'be honest.” He was starting to feel that guilty happiness. Caramel looked like he didn't believe a word of it. He looked ready to tear into the champion...but then smiled smugly. “Well, I guess you were disappointed, then. I really wasn't that angry at all. Maybe a little confused, but--” “Nnope,” Mac interrupted, feeling giddy. “Y'were redder that day than Ah am any day. You looked like Ah had stolen yer mare or somethin'.” “No I didn't,” Mel denied a little too quickly. “Yes you did, an' don' deny it. You were beside yerself, and heavens above it looked good on you...” He felt himself smiling at the memory...but then saw his stallion wrestling with – and then realizing – the truth and remembered just how guilty he was. He couldn't smile this away like Caramel could. “Ah just...wanted t'be with you. Ah wanted t-t'feel you mad at me, Ah-Ah was desperate. But then it turned out Ah liked competin', an' well, you know th' rest,” he finished as quickly as he could make it. He felt his brain scraggling as they both stood there wordlessly. It was choking him. He felt himself getting ready to blurt out something. Just how much had he changed? “Ah-Ah liked it. Ah'm not proud of it, but seein' you fume 'n sneer...Ah enjoyed it. It wuz like Ah wuz seein' th' real you, an' Ah wanted that so bad. An-An' Ah'll say it again, Ah never meant t'break you. When Ah saw yer face after th' shoe throwin'...Ah hated mahself then. At least a little.” The horrible memory sprung tears in his own eyes...but it felt so good to get it out. He felt he was deliberately making himself sad; maybe then, everything would be okay. “You looked so small...so fragile. Ah respected you so much all this time, and t'see you so hurt...so hurt because o' me...it killed me. Ah jus' wanted t'hold you and tell you how sorry Ah am, oh, Mel, forgive me...!” He had broken himself. All of his guilt, all of his grief was pouring out unabated, ignorant of his surroundings. The time he spent bawling was meaningless to him. He just reached out to touch Caramel, to be comforted...but found no hoof in return. He struggled to be coherent: “M-Mel...please. Ah'm so sorry. Ah've wronged you, but Ah love you so much. Ah'll make it up t'you. Please forgive me...” His teary eyes didn't tell him what his joy in life was doing. He just heard hoofsteps pacing around him aimlessly. He wanted to touch him, to reassure him if not himself. He wanted this to stop. Caramel was silent until the sun blazed red. Or maybe it was the other way around. Those baby blue eyes shone against the searing red perfectly...why wasn't Caramel happy? Didn't he realize how fantastic he was? “...Who are you?” That threw him off. Already he felt his tears drying. 'Who are you?' What kind of question was that? “Um...whaddya mean by that?” “Who is this pony in front of me? He's not Big Macintosh, he can't be.” Anxious Macintosh cleared his tight throat. ...Who was he? “Don't be silly, babe. Ah'm me...Ah always have been!” Caramel stopped pacing, blocking the sun behind him. “I don't know anymore. I really don't.” “...Mel?” “Don't call me that right now; Big Macintosh called me that. But he wouldn't lie to me like this. He wouldn't manipulate me into throwing all my self-worth into a shoe throwing contest just to tear me down. He wouldn't threaten to kill my father, whether in the heat of passion or not. Whether he deserved it or not. And he certainly wouldn't deceive his own sister because he was afraid to tell everypony that he was...a little unconventional!” Mac was completely speechless. He was so speechless because he was so thoughtless. “So you wanted to make me angry. You wanted to see me get riled up so you could get your jollies. You know what?” He was afraid to answer. “I don't even mind that. In and of itself, it's...bizarre, sure, but I can...I can almost understand it. Almost. I don't know, maybe I'm the crazy one.” You did nothing wrong, babe. If'n anypony's crazy, it's me. Yer mane is so purdy in th' sunset. Fiery red like yer heart. “But you know what does get me?” He held his breath. It was all he had. Please, no more. “...And then what?” Whut? “Whut?” “You get me angry and win the competition seeing my red hot face. And then what? You just trot away into the sunset? You go crash all the fancy new bars and pick up some mares for a forgettable night? What were you going to do...if you didn't see me die a little inside that day? You didn't seem to care about that at all! That's what gets me!” Mac felt his brain suspend itself. It was a question for which he didn't have an answer. He was dry, he was stuck, he was alone. He was dangerously close to losing Caramel. “...Ah...Ah didn't really think that far ahead--” “Yes, you did.” Mac's brain hurt. But then, he hurt all over. He hurt in places and levels he didn't know he had before he mated with this unhappy pony. He didn't know what had happened, let alone what was happening. “Ah-Ah did?” “You weren't born yesterday. You knew full well that another day was gonna come, and that you'd have to make your way through it. So what were you going to do?” The sun blazed a deeper red. What his mare said was undeniable. As soon as he got what he wanted, he didn't feel the need to do anything else besides savor it. He must have planned to do something. If that were the case, there was only one thing he was ever going to do. “...Ah would've worked.” It was then Caramel made the face. Everypony knew that face. It was face parents made that made all children of all ages regret everything they had ever done up until that point. It was the face of a broken heart. “You would've worked.” “...Eeyup.” “You would've worked.” Ah'm sorry...wait...why 'zat so bad? Ah always work. Why're you so jarred by that? “Ah reckon so...” The face grew more devastated. Were they even talking about the same thing? “You 'reckon'. You...'suppose'. You didn't even have an agenda for that day. It was just: wake up, eat, work, eat, work some more, sup, and go to bed. That's it. That's what you're telling me.” “...Eeyup. So?” Caramel's neck now matched the red hue of his face. That wasn't good. “...Unbelievable. Are you listening to yourself?” It was getting to where he couldn't tell the sun and the mare apart. He had to calm her down. “Babe, come on, think 'bout it,” he crooned with a smile. “It's no big deal.” “Did you hear the latest, old chap?” “I hope so! News around here make or break a pony.” “DUDE. The match today was just UNREAL. That's one to tell the kids!” “Oooh, pretty butterflies! What are they doing here?” “No big deal?” “Evidently, the new work pony is actually named Caramel. He's beige with a brown mane; most everyone hasn't seen him since the Cup, either!” “Ah, that explains it. A pony who's light on his hooves isn't easy to miss—or so I've heard...” “Have you looked around here lately? I bet at least half the ponies here now are just faking it.” “What was that? Oh, never mind. But guess what else?” “Think about it?” “What, fellow, what?” “He has a stallion friend. And said friend is local.” “Babe...?” “What?! That's just...wait. How local do you mean by local?” “Has anypony – I mean, anyone seen Rainbow Dash? She just disappeared...” “No. Big. Deal?!” “I'll give you a hint: he's living on the Apple-Orange Company Acreage.” “...Well, only two males live there, and it certainly isn't old Mosely...dear Celestia, that could only mean...!” “Oooh, what, what?” “That Macintosh fellow! The Cup champion fancies his own?!” “Caramel, please calm down. Yer...yer scarin' me a little.” “Huh? Whazat mean?” “Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy are gone, too...what's going on?!” “Don't be dumb; it means he's gay.” “...WHAT?! BIG MACINTOSH IS GAY?!” “WHAT?!” “You seriously think it's no big deal?!” “YOU'RE JOKING! As if...as if things aren't bad enough!” “As Gay Macintosh would say: NNOPE!” "Great. Now WE have to deal with this!" "I don't even...h-how dare he?! Just when I was ready to forget about all this new crud coming into town, THIS comes up!” “WHERE ARE THEY?! I CAN'T FIND THEM ANYWHERE!” “I can't BELIEVE he would do something that WEIRD. How does that make us look?!” “WELL, LET ME TELL YOU SOMETHING, YOU STUPID, OVERFED HORSE!” Caramel“...Do you know why I always smiled, no matter how tough things got for me?” “...W-why?” “You. It was because of you—I mean, Big Macintosh. That stupid idiot.” “...Whut? Really? But first, could you back off on--” “Quiet.” “...” “I saw you--him working when we were both colts. He looked so happy, so carefree. I envied him, I really did.” “...” “No, it was more than that. He was my idol. Everything went right for him, like it was meant to be. I thought if I just smiled, then I would be like him; I-I thought things would start going right for me. So whenever I couldn't do something or broke something, I smiled and just kept going like he did.” “...Ah loved that smile.” “...Big Macintosh didn't seem to notice. I guess he was too busy.” “Mel--” “Just shut up. It wasn't just that smile, I also didn't cry because of him. Not even when I was alone! He seemed to have no reason to cry whatsoever, so I mimicked him. Put both of those together and you get a seemingly sweet pony who never lets anything get at him. That's how what I wanted ponies to see me. That's how I wanted him to see me.” “Ah did see you--” “SHUT UP. You have no right to talk to me after everything that happened. But anyway...I guess that's the thing about smiling, though. Even if you don't mean it, you feel better when you do it. I was just almost happy...I guess I tricked myself into making the most of it, into being as sweet as caramel. But I wasn't sweet. I was just a bitter, worthless reject that ruined whatever he touched. Smiling didn't make me a better pony or make my life any better, and that's still true today. Don't even try to contradict me. "But you know what I did? I kept smiling! I kept smiling because it helped me forget that I was failing every class in school because I couldn't turn in half my assignments! I looked at him and smiled because it helped me forget that my own father wouldn't look me in the eye at dinnertime, no matter how much Mom and I begged him to! And I fucking smiled because it helped me pretend that Mom and the other doctors weren't losing their minds trying to diagnose me correctly. "...And I didn't cry because it made me feel better about how I had burned every single bridge to success there is without even trying. I didn't even shed a tear when Mom died because it made my dad proud of me. I didn't shed a tear when he moved away...because I had no tears to shed. "Big Macintosh was the only thing that made me smile like I meant it. He made me feel like...like I wasn't completely helpless.” “...*sniffle* Mel...” “But then I met you. You made me cry more in four days than I had done in my entire life. You remind me of just how horrible my life is constantly. Every time I look at a damn horseshoe, I remember how you turned my entire existence into a joke at that competition. And you know what? I...I forgive you for that. I do. But what I can't forgive is how you were ready to just leave me hollow and broken after trying to make me hate myself AND I DIDN'T EVEN REALIZE IT UNTIL NOW!” “WHOA, WHUT?! Ah wuz NOT tryin' t'do that, not even at th' START!” “OH, SURE! Make the klutz look at how awesome you are at everything and how he can't do anything! NOTHING BAD CAN COME FROM THAT!” “...Baby, Ah had no idea it would hurt you, AH SWEAR!” “THAT'S WHY I—no. I don't hate you. I can't. That's the worst part. You're so thoughtless and greedy when you used to be so wonderful, but I can't hate you even now. It hurts...it hurts so much...WHY?! WHY DID YOU ABANDON ME?!” “AH DIDN'T ABANDON YOU! AH SAVED YOU! WHY...why're you fretting over what mighta been? Ah did see you and Ah didn't like whut Ah saw; Ah saw mah reason t'live in tears an' Ah wuzn't afraid anymore. Baby, all Ah know is Ah love you, please just--” “JUST WHAT?! JUST PRETEND MY ENTIRE LIFE NEVER HAPPENED?! PRETEND MY FUTURE IS CLEAR AND BRIGHT WHEN IT CAN'T BE?! DON'T INSULT ME!” “AH'M NOT INSULTIN' YOU! AH LOVE YOU!” “IF ONLY THAT WERE TRUE!” “YOU HAVE NO REASON T'DOUBT ME!” “YOU ALWAYS SAY THAT, DAD!” There was nothing more to say. Caramel walked toward the barn, and Macintosh walked toward town. Neither felt they deserved to be anywhere else. Applejack was gone. I don't know who he is. But he's not my dad. It hurts so much. Well, Ah wuz wonderin' whut Ah am, an' now Ah know. Ah'm evil. Ponyville's LightsCaramel chewed lazily on a few straws of hay. He had forgotten just how old it was. The reserves were meant to keep ponies alive if any emergency came up, not to delight the taste buds. But even then, it had been a while since the hay was replaced. It was like chewing on sadness and disappointment. He remembered the one straw Big Macintosh usually chewed. He always thought it was just an excuse not to talk to ponies; and who could blame him? The big lug would just chew and chew while others just yammered on about who-cared-what. They seemed to appreciate his withdrawn nature when the straw bobbed and spun in his mouth. If only they knew what he was thinking that whole time...When Caramel did it, he was sure he just looked hungry. After a few minutes of self-punishment, he spat out the spoiled cud. Maybe it was bearable when the hay was good, who was to say? In any case, it was a ridiculously easy habit to kill. Wanting to get rid of the taste, he wobbled over to the bucket and gargled the rainwater. Bad idea. He almost retched spitting the fetid water out of his revolted mouth. It had been sitting there for days, so he wasn't surprised at the green film that once sat atop the surface, until he swept it around his tongue. He was surprised at the fact that he didn't notice before he did it. Even with the sun's fading crimson blaze on top of it, it wasn't exactly subtle. Feeling no less relieved, he sat down next to the blanket on the broken hay. Just what happened back there? It was like I was just a foal again. I don't mind yelling if I have to...but that was so raw. I just couldn't stop it, I had to keep going or it was going to drive me crazy. I can't believe I called him Dad. That was so dumb. What, I can't even tell the difference between them? I love both of them, yeah, but there's no reason for that; it's just silly. He seemed just devastated by it, probably because he hates the guy so much. Well, you know what? He's still my father and I love him, why can't you see that? In fact, why were you so surprised by it? Yeah, you weren't expecting it, but I was angry and hurt and confused, so I was bound to blurt out something ridiculous. At least I didn't smile and try to cover it up like I did with Dad; he never understood that. He liked it, but he never understood it, I could tell. He was confused by lots of stuff, and Big Macintosh looked really confused...maybe that's why I said it. Whatever, water under the bridge...I guess... ...I haven't thought about Mom in years. I tried to forget with everything I had to do...but it all just came back at once, the stupidly small funeral, her way too calm face when she died, the doctors, Dad's face, the doctors, the funeral the doctors doctors doctors never did anything could have done everything should have done something instead of nothing like you did sneaking out in the middle of the night how dare you who does that please don't be mad at me I'm sorry I'm sorry it hurts I'm sorry! Mac I'm sorry you're nothing like him no way not at all you're kind and sweet and generous and dedicated but who are you? I don't know who you are! Nopony does! I'd forgive you if I knew who you were but who is that I don't know do you even know? One moment you're wonderful then you're mindless then you're wonderful again it doesn't make sense you don't make sense! Oh look a butterfly a butterfly by itself why is it by itself why is it even here? It's resting on my old shoe I love that shoe I forgot it here wow. I just left it here with my two medals, geez I was in a hurry. I left so much here without even thinking about it and Mac got all of it oh Celestia what have I done? Shoo butterfly go sit somewhere else. What do I do now I probably lost my boyfriend my only chance and I didn't even earn that chance he just gave it to me unconditionally he's so sweet oh gods above...I ruined my own life my own ruined life I ruined it's all ruined I AM RUIN. I ruined Big Macintosh I did this to him it's not his fault wait yes it is he never talks...but he didn't have to until me but he was so brash and oblivious at the stadium but that was because of me no it was his competitiveness he didn't know about which isn't his fault or is it I don't know I don't know anything I'm so confused...! Silence. Complete silence. This barn is so quiet, no creaks, no drips, no squeaking mice, nothing. Please stop being quiet. I hate it. I always have, wait, no, that's not right. Well it doesn't matter I hate it it's creepy. “La di da di da da da...I'm all alooooooone in this stupid baaaaaaaaaaaarn...” I hate this. I hate most everything, but I really hate this it's stupid it's pointless it's unbearable why am I doing this? I shouldn't be here, I should be...what was it...RUMORS! I forgot about the rumors! I should be taking care of those maybe then he'll forgive me oh Mac I'm so sorry really I am I messed up you didn't deserve that... Is somepony out there? I heard trotting...oh. Tourists. They keep changing their route and time, it's so annoying. Well, they certainly sound lively. But how do I do it? I said I would face the music, but how do I even go about it? I don't have any shoe tricks to dissuade a mob of bigoted ponies; that's not how it works. I guess...I guess if all else fails, I can distract them with it so Mac could escape from town and go where he wants. As for me? As for me, as for me...it doesn't make a bit of difference. Dear Princess Celestia, why was I born so helpless? Yours truly, Caramel Oh no, look at that, the letter fell apart before I could send it! What a shocker! At least it was just an imaginary one; imagine if it were a real one! That would be embarrassing! ...He was always embarrassed of me. You never were. “...I miss you.” “THERE HE IS! I HEARD HIS VOICE!” BAM, BAM, BAM! “OPEN UP, FREAK! YOU GOT A LOT TO ANSWER FOR!” “YEAH!” Oh no, no no no, not here. Why are they here? Why are they doing this now? “Like, no one seduces mah champion, and, like, gets away with it, chah...” “Your boyfriend wouldn't talk, so you better be ready to answer for two! You sick little devil...” Devil? How very creative. Wait, they questioned him? And he couldn't say anything?! “WE KNOW IT'S YOUR FAULT! YOU'VE ALWAYS BEEN WEIRD; YOU CHANGED HIM! WELL, YOU'RE NOT GONNA CHANGE ANYONE ELSE!” “YEAH!” “TELL IT LIKE IT IS!” Anyone? Are they still on that? Good gravy... “OPEN UP OR WE'RE TAKING THIS BARN DOWN! YOU GOT TEN SECONDS!” I can't believe this is happening. “TEN!” What the hells do I do now?! “NINE!” Big Macintosh can't handle crowds like this, not when they're out to get him. He can barely stand up to those he loves, let alone strangers. “EIGHT!” Well, not strangers, really. Some of them. Most of 'em will just be ponies who were always here...swept up in the mania. “SEVEN!” I can't just sit here and wait to be humiliated...or worse. I have to do something! “SIX!” But they're crowding the door! What can I do about that?! “FIVE!” I suppose...there's really only one thing I can do. The only thing I could ever do. “FOUR!” But that'll just make 'em think I'm freakier than before. No, I need...I need old Cheerilee. “THREE!” Yeah...here we go, girl; it's time to show 'em what we can really do. “TW— THWACK, THWACK, THWA-CRASH! “AAAAAAAAAAAAH!” The barn door laid in splinters in front of the small mob. Caramel walked calmly into the open, two red ribboned medals swinging under his neck, making sure to avoid the wood strewn around the dazed ponies (some with makeshift signs saying something along the lines of “Protect Ponyville”.) He stared them down, twirling his favorite shoe with his tail all the while. They were lost for words, and he was ready. “No comment.” Who cared about this bunch? The bulk of the mob had to be in town...where Big Macintosh had to be, too. They were tormenting their champion, no doubt. Time was precious. Keeping his shoe twirling at high velocity, he galloped away from the disoriented crowd...only to fall over not too far from them. Damn his left hind leg. He needed a ride...but how was he going to find one here? Well, as silly as it sounded, he had to try. “TAXI!” Come on, come on...! “D-DON'T LET HIM GET AWAY!” “B-BUT HE'S ARMED!” “Wait, you guyz. He's, like, really vulnerable right now. Let's, like, just drop it, because eww. Not worth it.” “WHAT?! HAS YOUR GUM WARPED YOUR MIND, MARE?!” “Um, whaddya, like, mean?” “HAS YOUR...OH, FORGET IT!” “You don't have to, like, keep shouting. It's really, like, getting on mah nervez, chah.” “Someone call for a taxi?” Like a prayer answered, Rick Shaw arrived with taxi cart in tow. He looked considerably confused by the situation. “Somepony called for a taxi,” answered Caramel, “and that's me. But I'll only take it on two conditions.” He hung the shoe around his neck. “Okay...”, hesitated Rick, “what are they?” Caramel looked briefly to the mob: they were leaderless and clueless now. “That I ride on your back instead of the cart,” he stated, “and that you run into town as fast as you can!” He hopped onto Rick Shaw's back. “I-It's really better if you--” “JUST DO IT!”, shouted Caramel before kicking Rick's sides. The taxi pony whinnied as he charged away from the fields. The town lights were focused on the square, it seemed. This was looking worse and worse by the second... “Head to the square, but stop by the rec park first! Just trust me!” No matter what you think of me...I'm coming to make things right. Just hang in there... “How could you?!” “I looked up to you, you know! And then you pull this!” “Ponyville used to be a great place! Ponies like you ruined it!” “If an Apple family member is carrying himself like this, then maybe the Oranges should take over after all, darling.” “Take that yoke off, stand up, and face me like a real stallion!” “CAN I GET EVERYPONY'S ATTEN--” “SHUT UP!” “Move aside, old mare! We got business to handle!” Beyond those kinds of words, Big Macintosh couldn't understand what was being shouted at him, near him, to the others, whatever...all he knew was it was best to just lie in the center and not fight it. They had coerced him there, the lights were focused there, so they obviously wanted him there. If he tried to say anything, his voice died in his throat. If he fought back, he would either seriously hurt somepony or they would find some way to overwhelm him. He just laid there, hooves over his ears, eyes closed...and waited for it to end. The sun had finally set, leaving a dull blue ocean above them all. He was alone. He was ready to beg for it to end, the harsh, hateful voices and shoves getting harder and harder to ignore. He didn't care about how Ponyville may or may not have been corrupted, whether he ruined their ideal of masculinity; he just wanted to take his Caramel and get out of there. Not that he could get to him...not that he had any right to take him away from there. The last words still racked his body with self-loathing. To even be accused of resembling that wicked pony, of that family deserter...he wanted to smack Caramel for saying it. After housing him and feeding him, he had the nerve to say that?! He wanted to hold the pony up by the ear and demand an apology for such an insult! Nopony deserved to be called that. But Mel said it because he did resemble the deserter a bit. He had dragged the poor pony around, reminding him of his helplessness, only to crush what hopes he had and (almost) leave him there to drown in despair. He resembled Caramel's father by the behavior that ruined Caramel's life. It wasn't on purpose, he wasn't even aware of it...and that was the worst part. He wasn't in control of his worst quality... Caramel... All the voices and shoves against him might as well have been his own. This served as his punishment for his error, even as the crowds became more and more restless. He just hoped and prayed for them to stop... “GET UP AND FIGHT BACK, YOU TRAITOR!” Jus' stay calm an' stay down. “YOU REALLY HAVE CHANGED! YOU DISGUST ME!” Ow...that wuzn't necessary. Jus' bear it, jus' bear it...s-so what if'n he sounds like Mel, just don't do anythin' silly. “I wanted to start a family with you! I had plans, plans that you RUINED!” Well...that jus' fits in nicely, doesn't it? Ah tend t'ruin plans all 'round. “HOW CAN YOU LIKE STALLIONS? IT'S REVOLTING, IT'S...BACKWARDS, IT DOESN'T MAKE SENSE! I-IT'S JUST WRONG!” Wait...it's wrong? How d'you reckon that? OW! “QUIT COWERING! TAKE YOUR PUNISHMENT LIKE A REAL PONY!” YEOW! T-this hasta stop...whut did Ah get mahself into?! “I'VE BEEN WAITING TO DO THIS SINCE YOU HUMILIATED ME!” “...S-stop...” “WHAT WAS THAT?! SPEAK UP, STUD LICKER!” “...Ah-Ah *cough* said stop...” He tried to get up, but was headbutted back into lying on the cobblestone. “OH, YOU WANT ME TO STOP? YOU HEAR THAT? HE WANTS ME TO STOP!” “S-stop it before Ah--” “OOOOOOH, I'M SO SCARED! WELL, YOU KNOW WHAT? YOU JUST TRY IT! YOU JUST TRY TO TAKE US DOWN, YOU PERVERTED BULLY!” “AH SAID STOP--” CLANG! From out of nowhere, a single shoe crashed between Macintosh and his assaulter. The latter backed off as both watched its high-velocity circle around the former in a stupor. They didn't even know that was possible. CLANG! From the north part of town, a second shoe crashed in the same area and started circling in the opposite direction. Just what was going on here? The only shoe trickster who might bother to intervene was... Oh no no no. Not here, not against them. He hoped it wasn't-- CLUNK! A third shoe struck the first two as they crossed paths. All three of them tumbled and spun, the first two landing fairly quickly on the ground in front of him. The third flew straight upward until it landed just above the other two, spinning on one of its ends like a flipped bit. It spun and spun and spun...the entire mob watched it slow down and become unsteady. It looked ready to finally lay flat on the ground; that was when a beige hoof stomped it, making it face north. “Where did that pony come from?!” “Wait...hey! It's Caramel, the klutz from the Cup! He's got the medals he was too stuck up to accept!” “Wait, he didn't accept them? Why would he do that?” Caramel had his eyes closed, taking a deep breath. Macintosh was completely nonplussed as he saw his love standing in the middle of the once raving ponies. Mel shouldn't have been there...but it seemed they weren't going to go after him. They were just after their former champion. Good...he could live with that. He dared to whisper: “Caramel, git th' hells outta here!” Bad idea. “Wait...is this the pony? The one who seduced you?” CLANG! A precision shoe throw answered the delusioned policepony. It ricocheted off the street to be twirled around the thrower's tail, who then set it down meaningfully. “Yes...and no,” Caramel called out to the crowd. “Yes, because he is my boyfriend...and no, because nopony seduced him as you say.” “TH-THESE TWO ARE DANGEROUS! WE GOTTA GET RID OF 'EM!” “DANGEROUS?!,” Mel shouted. “DANGEROUS?! T-TELL ME WHAT YOU CALL ALL OF THIS? THIS ISN'T DANGEROUS? I see policeponies mobbed around! I see athletes and shopkeepers, gardeners and mailponies...FRIENDS and ESTEEMED community members torturing him...just what do you think you're all doing?!” The mob began to shuffle around and dissipate ever so slightly. Mac watched Mel walked over next to him, chest puffed out and head held high. He looked...he looked... Beautiful. “Never mind the fact this guy could have pulverized you,” the newcomer began, causing winces from several offenders, “this is just wrong. I know - believe me, I know - that things have been crazy for the past month. For those that have lived here and for newcomers, our ways of life have been threatened by forces we didn't even know existed. The business upheavals, the weird building projects, the rich and poor ponies being at odds, the dragons challenging Spike, Rarity and other ponies disappearing when we need them...it's a mess! It's all weighed heavily on us and maybe made us a little agitated...maybe eager to take it out on the biggest target..." Although Mac saw half of the mob stubbornly clung to their signs and refused to move, he saw the other half obviously faltering in their intent. "But this is the bottom line: ponies don't do this to other ponies! It's a mockery of everything we stand for, everything we've had to overcome! Just look at yourselves! Tell me just what it is you're doing!” Slowly but surely, the ponies in the mob began nervously looking around them. Some of them snorted in denial, some started crying, some coughed, but none of them said a word. Big Macintosh shivered as Caramel laid a calm hoof on his shoulder. He didn't deserve comfort from him...but he wasn't about to turn it away. “This pony here...is still Big Macintosh. We all know him, we all love him, and I'm here to tell you nothing has changed. So he likes stallions...so what? It's not like he's the first to ever do it, you know. Did y'all know that? I bet half of y'all didn't even know what that kind of thing is until recently! We just never talked about this sort of thing before...but now it's suddenly evil? Apparently! Y'all didn't even understand it, and yet you went and ganged up on this sweetheart? Who's the bully now?!” “HEY! D-DON'T MUDDY THE ISSUE! HE BETRAYED US!” “YEAH!” Macintosh gulped. The memory still stung as strongly as ever. But Caramel kept his head held high...he was going to keep fighting no matter how bad it got, wasn't he? “Prove it.” “...What?” Everypony was confused now...even the one huddled in the middle of the street. This seemed like an odd approach. More ponies began to self-consciously examine themselves. Mac heard the upper-crusty ponies on the edges chat with each other. He had good faith they didn't incite the riot...but who knew what the rich types were thinking? Clementine looked like a perfectly nice filly, after all. But all of this paled in the knowledge that Caramel was bravely defending his honor, which made him so deliriously happy he couldn't feel his legs. Ah love you so very much, babe. An' Ah hope you can forgive me... “I said prove it. How did he betray anypony?” “You mean anyone.” “...No. I don't. I know a lot of you didn't even know Big Macintosh until the Stallions' Field Cup. Did he say or do anything which would make this little episode 'treacherous'?” “H-HOW DARE YOU? YOU...YOU RAN AWAY FROM THE CUP, YOU PANSY! SHUT YOUR FACE!” Now Macintosh felt himself sweating. He knew this was going to get nasty if somepony didn't do something. He tore his gaze away from the seething crowd to its detractor, who was sweating himself. They shared a meaningful stare. Caramel, jus' git outta here... I-I'm not leaving you here. Just let me handle it. “Well, if I may interject, dear ponies...even if he did not do anything 'treacherous', his behavior over the last few days is certainly suspect. It does make one wonder if he is suitable for running that massive acreage, does it not?” “Hey, yeah! The Apple Family's been floundering all month for no good reason." "They even stopped selling apples last week!" This is unprofessional behavior, and not for the first time! Let the Oranges have the farm!” “ORANGES FOREVER! ORANGES FOREVER!” The eldest Apple sibling was truly afraid. Not because his family was so close to losing the farm, not because the townsponies had so little faith in them...but because Caramel's face was resolute and undaunted in the face of it all. Because he knew what his baby was about to do. “You wanna know why his behavior was suspect? YOU WANNA KNOW?!” “SAY IT ALREADY!” “IT'S BECAUSE HE...it's because was helping me. He was...he was helping me because...I'm cursed.” No...you don' hafta do this, it might ruin everythin'...! “Before you start murmuring...l-let me show you.” “Babe...” “I-It's okay...I can show them,” declared Caramel as he set down the medals. “I should have showed them a long time ago...” “Just what in the six hells is going on?!” “Is this going to be some lame trick?” Mac helplessly watched everything he held dear in his heart risk it all as he pressed the medals under one hoof and yanked on the ribbons with the other. The ribbons fell into dozens of paper thin threads, which Caramel blew aimlessly into the crowd. The silver medallions sat lifelessly next to him, shining in the city lights. “...What just happened?” “It is a lame trick! I knew it! That's just...guys? It's just a lame trick...right? Right?” “P-Pulling on them wouldn't make them do that...would it?” “It wouldn't,” answered Caramel, “if it weren't me pulling on them. This is what I am; I guess you could call me a 'disintegrator'. Whatever I touch falls apart, with minor exceptions. I can't buck apples since I'd ruin them, if not the trees; I can't sow seeds because they get blown away once the box crumbles; I can't push papers or important documents get destroyed...y'all get the idea. Long story short, I'm terminally jobless. I...I didn't tell y'all because I was scared of what y'all would think. But you know what?” The crowd was speechless. So was Macintosh. “When I told this big lug here about it,” the speechmaker intoned lovingly, “he vowed to help me overcome it. He didn't push me away or *cough* taunt me or try to prove he was better than me...he gave his time and *wheeze* resources to try and figure out if I really have to live with this. Now tell me...would an 'unprofessional', 'treacherous' pony do that?” The closest ponies to the two of them bowed their heads in thought, while others further away started whispering, presumably about what they had just learned. Macintosh, on the other hoof, was amazed at just how attractive Caramel was at that moment. He was ready to be a little unprofessional, so to speak...but quelled the urge for the sake of presentation. “Now...*cough* *wheeze*, even though I was *cough* afraid to *hack* tell y'all about *wheeze*” “Get him some water!” “J-just be sure it's *cough* clean water...” Lyra walked over and gave Caramel a glass of mineral water. The tension in the crowd built with each swallow the pony took, waiting helplessly for him to talk again. Macintosh stood up and stroked him gently on the back, which they both knew would make the crowd nervous...but neither of them cared anymore. “Anyway,” the brave pony finally continued, “I was scared to tell y'all about my...condition, let's say. But I'm not scared to say I'm in a relationship with a stallion, because it's...nothing to be scared of! Certainly not compared to my situation! Hells, I love this stallion...with all my heart. Just like a spouse loves his other half. It's just...a different preference, that's all.” Even though he had heard the words several times...Mac could have died when he heard it there. He felt so free...so loved, so damn lucky to have the special somepony he did. He wasn't afraid either, not now...and never again. “Big Macintosh is just a normal pony. He works on the farm, he does favors for other ponies, he laughs, he cries...just like the rest of you, just like the rest of us. Sure he's not perfect, sure he makes mistakes...” Macintosh trembled as he looked to the left. Caramel had a sad smile on his face...which he felt himself making in return. They both held a gaze as they mouthed the words “I'm sorry”. Turning back to the crowd, the beautiful savior continued: “...but who doesn't? Nopony's perfect--” “No one.” “Oh, hush. My point is we shouldn't expect too much of him, just like we shouldn't expect too much of any one pony. And we certainly shouldn't do this. Being gay doesn't change anything about that; I would know. I'm not asking y'all to change how you think about the entire world. All I'm asking y'all is to see him...to see me...for what we really are. Not for what y'all want us to be...” Suddenly, Lyra walked in front of Caramel with Bon-Bon, the latter holding up a decidedly different sign from the others. It said “Protect Ponyville From Itself.” Everypony in the crowd either gasped or whispered about them nuzzling. “I was never sure what to call us,” started Lyra, “but I figure 'normal ponies' fits nicely. Don't you, hon?” “I do, sweetie,” answered Bon-Bon. “Although there's nothing 'normal' about you.” “N-Not now, sugar,” Lyra threatened. Looking at the four of them, the former mob was finally losing its momentum. The murmuring became disorganized and diverse. “They're right; this is ridiculous.” “I can't believe I actually made this sign.” “I can't believe he made those ribbons disappear!” “Has anyone seen Twilight and them? They seem to have run off somewhere...” “I ate candies from her store. To think all this time...” “I need to check inventory still...” “Ah love you.” “I love you, too.” “What they said.” “Oh, don't be lazy!” The mob was officially broken. The remaining ponies (apart from the upper class) were awkwardly hanging around the scene of the crime, probably trying to reconcile what just happened with who they were. But in any case, both Big Macintosh and Caramel knew that the latter wasn't done. The former stood up and unabashedly nuzzled his stallion. He was nuzzled in return. “Y'all that are left see what the others are doing? They're going back to their lives. That what y'all should do, too. We have different things to worry about, things that actually matter. Like...like where Twilight and them are? We should get a search party going!” “Yeah, where did they go? I'm starting to get worried.” “We should look north of town!” “YEAH, LET'S GO!” Mac did a double take. He was so distracted that he almost forgot his sister was missing. He decided that everything was calm again, he'd join that search party. “A-And what about this upper class/lower class deal? We need to decide just what's going to happen before it gets out of hoof!” “By jove, he speaks sense!” “I like the way he put it; maybe we really can deal with it!” “Let's show them what we're made of, hon!” “THREE CHEERS FOR PROGRESS!” Mac was reeling at what was happening. His boyfriend had just dissolved a riot into coalition for bettering Ponyville. He had the strongest feeling there was something the poor pony was good at! “WE CAN DO THIS! GO OUT AND MAKE THE WORLD A BETTER PLACE! GO OUT AND UNDO THE WRONGS OF THE PAST! WE'RE NOT ALONE, AND WE'LL NEVER GIVE UP!” “YEAH!” With that, all the congregated ponies ran off in different directions, each tasked with either assigned or personal missions. The deed was done...and the word was out. It was like waking up from a bad dream... It's over. He's here, he forgives me...an' nopony minds. Finally free to do so, Mac pulled Mel to him and laid a big, wet one on him, which quickly turned into an oral caress...which quickly turned into making out in earnest. He wanted nothing but to be permanently melded to his little miracle worker, writhing in pure bliss as the night overtook them. But eventually, Mel did pull them apart. “Um, babe?”, a breathless Caramel asked. “Yes, you magnificent, wonderful thing, you?”, Macintosh whispered huskily from underneath him. “...The rich ponies are staring at us. I love you, but can we do this later?” Freezing in place and eyes wide open, the enthusiastic pony shifted his eyes to observe the aristocrats quickly turning away from observing him and his playmate. He saw that some of them, as unexpected as it was, had deep blushes they were trying to hide (even some of the males). The others looked either disgusted or at a loss, but that was just the way, he supposed. He just grinned sheepishly at all of them as Caramel climbed off of him. “Sorry about that. We, uh...well, it's pretty obvious,” Caramel offered. Big Macintosh got up to his hooves, feeling positive that he was blushing deep enough for them to see. “Q-quite,” Fancy Pants confirmed, hiding a blush of his own. “Anyhow, I just wanted to commend you on your speech there, Mr...Caramel?” “Yes, and thank you. I just told everypony the truth, i-it was nothing special.” “Nothing special? You did it brilliantly,” he continued with an eager smile. “You really had that crowd going, and I was hanging on every word myself! You may deny it, but you have a knack for speechmaking. The last part was a bit trite, but with some training, we can fix issues like that nicely. It's so fitting in that...well, if you would permit me, I may have a solution to your 'terminal joblessness', as you put it.” “...I don't really believe you, but go on,” said Caramel, sounding confused. Macintosh laid a hoof on his poor pony's shoulder to reassure him. “I did sense a great sorrow in your words earlier...and you have my condolences. I won't pretend to understand, but it does give you a great deal of leverage in our changing times. What I'm proposing here,” said Fancy Pants before pausing, “is for you to give words of wisdom to others suffering across Equestria. Our dear Princess Celestia is far too busy to do so herself, not to mention these ponies need...a common touch.” “Beg yer pardon?”, asked Caramel and Big Macintosh in unison. “Yes, exactly! They need somepony who's dealt with hardship like your good self. And since you are...afflicted, and it pains me to see how that can even happen, it would certainly bolster those who simply need some meaningful encouragement. My friends and I would pay for your services, of course.” “...Pay?” Neither of them could believe their ears. “Ahem...yes. Come by tomorrow and we'll discuss it in detail? We can, er, replace your medal ribbons as well if you like.” “Um...”, Caramel hesitated as he looked to his partner. Mac couldn't believe he even had to ask, nodding emphatically. “Eeyup.” “Y-You've got a speechmaker, then!” “Splendid!”, cheered Fancy Pants as his friends sighed in...relief? “See you on the morrow, then!” With that, the fancy ponies cantered to their fancy homes to sleep fancily in their fancy beds. At least, that's what Mac assumed happened whenever he wasn't looking. “...I have a job.” Upon hearing the words, the realization struck Macintosh as well. They had done it. “I have a real...paying job. And it looks like I can pull it off...” Mac felt like he had just finished ploughing a field. The weight was gone, and he could take pleasure in the result. He nuzzled the employee. “Ah'm ridiculously proud o' you, babe.” “...I'm proud of me, too. I...I HAVE A JOB! I-I-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!” When he saw Caramel jumping and shouting right then, he knew he didn't need anything else. He had never seen the sweet pony that happy, ever. As much pain as he caused him, he also made him laugh at how wonderful life could be. He was done. This was his life, and he was pleased. The overeager hugging and licking was nice, too. The two of them held each other in the middle of the square until Caramel pushed himself off of Macintosh. “...He said I have a knack for speechmaking," said Caramel pensively. “...Eeyup.” This didn't sound good. “I have a job skill, and I didn't even know about it.” So whut? Ain't that whut you had been tryin' t'do before, anyway? “Eeyup.” “...But I couldn't have known about it unless I had a speech to make.” There you go. “...Nnope.” “A-And I probably just developed this skill as I kept thinking about...my life.” Mac nuzzled his stressed stallion. He wasn't too surprised that Mel apparently didn't take compliments easily. “...Ain't life funny like that? Haha!” Thank Celestia. Ah needta git off this street an' not come back fer a long while. Suddenly, he felt a tail brushing against his neck. He took a very deep breath to clear his head. “Well, then,” Caramel intoned, “it's time we got home. We've both earned some rest after today.” "Uh, actually--" "CRUD." “Eeyup.” "W-Well," Caramel insisted, "I don't mean to sound awful, but...maybe we could let them look for tonight? Tomorrow you and I will rip the earth apart if we have to." Mac stroked his chin. He felt the stubble growing on it as he weighed his options. His decision? Well...it would probably be best to look for them sooner rather than later, not to mention she was his sister, and-- Mel snickered softly. "E-Eeyup." “Good. After all...you must be exhausted after putting up with that horrible mob.” “...Eeyup...” “You must want to unwind. I know just the thing that would help! But first, I just have to know...” The scandalized pony felt like he was going to explode. The tension was unbearable...! “...E-Eeyup?!” “...Do you know anything about it?” Whut? “Whut? Ah don'...” Now he knew the blush was visible. “Oh. N-Nnope.” Caramel groaned before turning to face the farm. “Well, crud. I don't know anything either. I guess...,” the tempter suddenly drew out, “we'll just have to figure it out as we go along.” Feeling the tension break, the temptee saw his little pony walking ahead of him...and grinned the stadium grin. Today was another roller coaster...and it was time he got off. CataclysmTwo hours after the search party for Twilight and her friends set out, the frustrated ponies had to return to Ponyville without a single one of them. No sign of them whatsoever could be found either. Even with Big Macintosh, the search continued for two days with nothing to show for it, and so the efforts for progress from all sides were disheartened. The temporary groups that had formed in the name of improving ponies' lots in life met unmanageable conflict from its own members. Shopkeepers found themselves lashing out at assistants, with or without cause; salesponies were enraged at the slightest attempt to compromise in future pricing; and any close friends of the missing six were losing themselves in their own worry. Most significantly, the preliminary talks for an amicable balance between the elite and the commoners regressed into rehashing the past for no reason other than to relive it, detail by apple-bucking detail. All involved agreed the outlook was bleak... And that was when the world around them ignited. The ground split open and twisted on itself. The skies broke apart, slipping in and out of all imaginable colors. The animals grew fierce and raved with piercing voices and claws at the ready, senseless of friend or foe. The clouds twisted into meaningless monstrosities that rained lightning and shot water wherever they pleased. Ponies found themselves pitted against friends and family in fits of insanity. It was a cosmic free-for-all, and Equestria was afraid. The spells trying to control it were merely consumed by the greedy upheaval. Not content to surrender, the unicorns funneled their strength together to keep as many buildings together as possible. Rich and poor alike huddled together in the strongest abodes and braced themselves for cruel and inexplicable end. The earth groaned and shrieked, the air thundered its demand for appeasement, and so the last unscathed ponies summoned from within themselves one desperate bid to pray for their deliverance as sudden as their catastrophe. The prayer was thrown into the howling winds as the last stronghold against despair. Death seemed to be near as the physical madness reached its peak... And then the sun rose over it all, shining its golden light to calm the world and its children. A magnificent chariot descended from the golden orb: the six prodigal ponies and Spike had returned to Ponyville with Princess Celestia. The busy ruler immediately gathered the residents to assert that, even though great forces had re-shaped their world, everything was going to be fine. The crowd gawked at the sight around her and the homecome ponies...but ultimately was mollified. They wholeheartedly shouted and cheered for the end of the end. Caramel's voice caught in his throat. It was terrifying to think about the opportunity he had...and so he discarded it. He knew she didn't have the time, anyway. The returned ponies joined the town to assess the changes: the ground was jagged and fallow, and the winds were unpredictable...but beyond that, only a few structures were demolished. Evidently, the raving of the world was intent on frightening rather than destroying its many communities...although the effects were indeed lasting. Other damages were repairable, and so the town was relaxed. It was time to resume the business of before, as well as it could be done. After the crowd dispersed, she granted the Mayor and her administration by royal decree the power to deny future business expansion to non-local entrepreneurs. Those that decided to become local would have to commit to the community of Ponyville, with all that implied. So knowing their time was up, many of the myriad businessponies sacked the scene to seek opportunity elsewhere. But in the meantime, they saw fit to organize plans for the future as they stayed trapped in the shaken valley. Some of the recent building additions to Ponyville were also ditched, whereupon the Mayor decided to temporarily house the foreign competitors for the Jubilee. After all, the messy fight Twilight and friends had to wage left the normal travel methods upheaved until order could be restored. The former rabble rousers against Big Macintosh found themselves grateful for their temporary hosts and contrite for how they were deserving of something decidedly less comfortable. The upshot of the decree was the Orange Family finally returning to Manehattan (once they were able) and dropping the claim to the acreage. Out of the kindness of her heart, Applejack agreed to keep a percentage of the orange crop, “But jus' keep in mind that they'll be grown on Sweet Apple Acres!” That having been said, they had to focus on making sure anything would grow in the dilapidated soil. Little Clementine said nothing. She just smiled and joined her parents in the Homestead building as they stayed their last days. The Apple family plus one returned to the smaller, more familiar barn they called home. The old hay reserve barn was slated to be completely rebuilt when time permitted. The water bucket was trashed. When it was time to discuss Caramel's career, he shared how his attempt to organize the rowdy ponies during the various kerfuffles shook his confidence. Not being able to contribute himself just diminished his credibility too much, which seemed like a sign of things to come. Fancy Pants, however, said he had no problem with this once all was made calm; “You just have to remind them of their own abilities!” Both him and Macintosh stipulated how important this was now that the world had changed; ponies needed themselves now more than ever. But this also meant Caramel was needed now more than ever, for several different things. So after a promising interview (and an extremely cautious signature), he was set to share his experiences with downtrodden denizens and potentially influential enterprisers across Equestria. To achieve this, he was accompanied by several unicorn guides who did their best to make the terrain navigable; but even with that, travel was painfully slow. It took fifteen minutes in one instance just to figure out how to get past a hill without getting torn to shreds. But funnily enough, it turned out that Caramel's 'talent' for breaking things down was not too big or too small to help them diminish the needles...if he was careful. He readily agreed to smooth out terrain as they went, the sight of his hooves' ironic labors splitting him between outrageously happy and weirdly depressed. It was like if a pony with a malformed face were being used to frighten away burglars. But he trod along in determination to make the most of it, a chance he never truly had before. It turned out he was the most proficient at small groups in low-key places, which worked very well for advising the refugee groups around Appleloosa, for one. Several families had been uprooted when the bulk of the working force relocated to Ponyville, leaving far too little to keep the town running. Once the stored food was swallowed by the earth, the only ponies left in Appleloosa were those too stubborn to leave or those who claimed to be able to still live there (which was mildly persuasive in that the apple saplings miraculously seemed unharmed by the cataclysm.) The worst part of it was that a good percentage of the former workforce seemed hesitant to leave... “Y'all can't give up,” he told them. “Y'all are the hardiest ponies anypony knows! You can outlast this hardship until the apples are ripe; I know you can. It's all about making the most of your environment and staying the course for that. Yes, your loved ones are gone. Yes, it shouldn't have happened...but I know firsthoof that it doesn't end there. You have to keep going and reap the fruits of your patience. “Ponyville isn't about to let you starve; we'll aid you how we can if you ask for it, and no mistake. But I can tell y'all don't want that. And why should you? Y'all raised that town out of the dirt, and it's that same dirt you'll hone with the buffalo all through the summer! Y'all won't go down now or then or whenever doubt would have you fear! T'AIN'T OVER 'TILL Y'ALL SAY IT'S OVER!” The haggered families roared with pride as they set about restoring their land. Caramel saw their eyes alight with hope once again...and was struck with inspiration. While Fancy Pants' advice seemed to work, he decided to carefully press his hooves against the more twisted plots of land. When the blackened knots diminished...the cheers he received were almost deafening. He was useful. For once in his life, ponies needed him. It was like he had dreamed his troubles away. Big Macintosh, unfortunately, had to finish reviving the fallow fields as well as assisting in the reconstruction of the ruined buildings, so he wasn't able to see Caramel bolster his cousin's hometown. Braeburn, however, did accompany the speechmaker in order to return to the community and help them endure. Plus, when he thought about it, the cause of the refugee camp wasn't something he wanted his boyfriend to witness firsthoof. The busy farm pony would just have to wait for his return...whenever that was. Next was a stark contrast: speaking at the devastated capital of the country of Paint. It was bad enough that the massive clash made air travel, teleportation, and the terrain for trains and taxi relays unsafe...but this was ground zero. What used to be a bustling international trade center bordering Equestria and Equuleus couldn't even conduct business. Fancy Pants's job for Caramel was to start the revitalization of the country on a good note. It was incredibly nerve-wracking...but that was no reason for him to give a bad speech. “This isn't just a trade center opening today,” he bellowed from behind the dais, “this is an entire country. The future of this nation – and its partners – will be determined by the actions of all of you gathered here today. So what do y'all have to do? “It's simple...create a home. It's just a matter of making your own from this mess around us. I had to make a home for myself when I had none, fighting against my inabilities day after day...but y'all have the best and the brightest on the job, and from all corners! “Ponies, griffons, dragons...what we have here is the chance to better our relationships to each other, to show the world we won't be deterred by even the earth and sky falling apart. We'll prove that Paint will venture forth in strength and harmony! So buy low, sell high, and make everywhere a better place to live!” The speech made him very visible to the movers and shakers within Equestria; Equuleus, however, was fine with their own ambassador's usual diplomatic visits. Caramel had to admit the prospect of giving business advice didn't sit well with him, so he avoided that as much as possible. He did ask Applejack for a basic picture of the workings of finance, which helped a little. Despite this, his charitable appearances were becoming fairly popular, and Fancy Pants for one was all too eager to ship him off and send the promised bits to the Apple Family. Big Macintosh counted the pay: it was enough to renovate all of their barns and stockpiles as well as finally get the hip surgery for Granny. He secretly hoped Caramel would be so gracious, as he deducted a fair sum for the room and board they gave him. Good lumber wouldn't be easy to find, after all... The rest of the speaking events were quickly becoming a blur. He talked to underprivileged ponies in major cities: “Being poor made me realize just how much I depended on others. I used to hate it, but then I realized that we all depend on each other in some way. That need for community, for companionship is something we all have, and we should never neglect it. Especially not when y'all have to fight for what you have. I can already see y'all trying to make something out of nothing in each other. You've made it this far in spite of it all; just know your strengths and keep at it. Some ponies have no idea how powerful it is to be able to do that. Y'all are special, you know? You know what it's like to be without. There's comfort in that.” He talked to disfigured and ill ponies in various hospitals: “I used to think my body hated me. No matter how I tried, there was nothing I could do to earn my keep, to just feel a little normal. But even with my situation, I now know it's not an end...just a challenge. And it's the same for you, if you accept that challenge. The love of friends, family, and even strangers is keeping y'all with us. Even if you're alone, you're not alone...just reach for hope with your best character and the strength you know you have deep inside. I'm begging you...don't give up.” And he, significantly, talked to wealthy types waffling as to how to address the new suffering around them: “They're not asking you to surrender your livelihoods for their sake...they're asking you to be amazing, wonderful ponies. They're asking for nothing short of generosity, and y'all are capable of showing them that generosity. That way, the less fortunate get to make it through another day; y'all can be satisfied in your good character, regardless of others' opinions; and y'all can confidently assert that relationship with them. It won't be a slippery slope if you don't let it be, and there's no shame in that. Just be good ponies. Don't worry about anything else.” Although it wasn't the last one he did (that being some choice words to put an end to a interregional insurrection force), the charity inspired by that speech made the organizations sponsoring it overwhelmed with bits. They were able to reduce the poverty populations across the major cities by roughly twenty percent, even if it might have been just temporary. The success allowed the speechmaker to return home for a couple of weeks to a very patient Macintosh. Caramel's motivational talks had become well-known enough that, once travel was finally completely restored, ponies from across Equestria came to Ponyville for his semi-biographical pep talk meant to liven up the usual Summer Sun Celebration. He noticed (once Mac left him alone long enough to look) that even with a large percentage of the visitor ponies returned to their true homes, the population of the town had easily tripled compared to long before. Adding a few hundred guests made the situation problematic, to put it mildly. Because of that, they had to hold it outside, but Twilight and Caramel both made a persuasive argument to use the stadium; they pointed out that it was very, very big and nopony was using it. The same coalition of colors on the day of the Cup swayed and merged with newcomers. The night sky glimmered patiently as Caramel stepped shoe by shoe up to the podium. Not being able to use electronic equipment, Twilight volunteered to magically project his voice. It was a nice change from having to throw his voice. “Hello, everypony. I'd say Good Morning, but that's just what we're waiting for.” The crowd chuckled. “It's just...awesome to see all y'all here. I mean it. It's been...good gravy, three months since I started this, and it just makes me so happy that I could have inspired so many ponies. Eeyup, I even recognize some of y'all out there. Hey, Starshine! Wait, no, if I start naming names, we'll be here 'till Nightmare Night.” The crowd laughed in earnest. “But seriously...thank you, thank you so much. Helping so many ponies across the country – and even beyond – with getting through the Shock and whatever else is incredibly satisfying for me. For so long, it seemed that nopony was able to help me: not doctors, not teachers, not my parents--” Something glinted from the corner of his eye. He couldn't help but turn his head and look. “--N-Not anypony, really. But in a funny way, being able to help all those ponies helped me. It made me realize that...that I wasn't helpless. I have so many friends who understand what it's like to deal with difficulty, and I've seen firsthoof how they all helped each other. There's always a way to make yourself useful, even if it's not ob-OB-WHOAAAAAAAA!” He had wobbled on the shoes so severely that he fell backwards. Twilight scrambled to catch him with a spell, but she was pelted by a catapulted shoe. Big Macintosh scrambled to catch him, but Caramel tumbled at high speed behind him...straight into the astroturf. Within a split second, it formed a deep crack that was already spreading. It tore the false ground in twain...then in quarters...then into pieces. A massive cloud of powder rose up from the epicenter, which pegasi frantically maneuvered to redirect skyward, lest everypony there get blinded or at the least need medical attention. The black cloud was swept away without any trouble. Everypony, especially Caramel and Macintosh, sighed a weary sigh. And that was when the stadium shifted. The now loose ground refused to hold the massive construct aloft. Everypony screamed as they hurriedly made their way to the center, most of them trying to get on top of Macintosh, much to his (and Caramel's) dismay. Twilight summoned an amazing amount of power to levitate every single pony there, apart from the pegasi; they were fazed at how their rescue efforts were rendered unnecessary. Hundreds of hovering ponies just watched as the stadium slowly sank into a massive pit. A pit made by one pony. The crowd was shaken, but unharmed and thankful they were standing far enough away from the perimeter. Macintosh was shaken and worried as to what would happen next. Caramel was shaken with a strong headache...and an undeniable terror. He got off of his boyfriend before he continued: “It's okay, I'll pay for it...hah hah...But y-y'all can see why getting past that sort of thing would be important to me.” The crowd laughed nervously. And then the murmurs started... “Let me make myself absolutely clear,” Caramel pressed, “when I say I'm not afraid of what's gonna happen next. I've seen so many overcome their troubles, and I plan to see the same for so many others. This...condition...is unfortunate like other problems we all have. Let's start fixing them on the right note! Let the Summer Sun Celebration begin!” After an unbearable pause, a few ponies started to clap...then a few more...then it spread quickly to the rest of the crowd. As much as they tried, the clapping couldn't mask what they had just witnessed; it literally couldn't be ignored. Caramel's few nightmares in his travels showed him similar travesties destroying everything he had set in motion, which he shrugged off in the confidence that he could make it past any mishaps. But after something that big actually happening...no wake-up call...no fading memories... He knew it was coming to an end. Fancy Pants came up to give his sympathies after everypony else had moved on to the celebration. He, Caramel, and Macintosh discussed how they were going to go about the next speeches. Ultimately, Caramel decided he wanted to do something low-key to minimize any damage, to his career or to the site. The other two agreed. Unfortunately for all three of them, the sight of the stadium falling to pieces spread quickly across the country and beyond. As other ponies learned of what exactly transpired, it was clear that Caramel's name carried a smear. Future arrangements for speeches were being terminated due to the guilty aversion ponies had to seeing Caramel. To put it bluntly, it was just painful to think about, and they knew they would think about it when he was there. And that just didn't make for a motivational rabble-rouser, it just didn't. Struck with sudden brilliance, Caramel decided to seek out the demolition workers that turned him down before...to see them do it again. Even when he discussed the matter with them in private, they categorically refused to take him up on his renewed offer. In fact, they were denying any assocation with him whatsoever. He later explained to an outraged Apple Family that the destruction caused was too wild to be controlled, and since there was no telling when it would happen again, it was too risky to be employable. Even though that wasn't what they told him. “We're not takin' any demo work that's evil.” Big Macintosh comforted his fallen friend as best he could. After Caramel had recovered from the shock, both he and the rest of Ponyville insisted (some not insisting nicely) that the disaster pony appeal to the Princess. After a harsh internal battle, Caramel found himself complying with the demand. On the bright side, he didn't have to try very hard to get her attention: she was waiting for him outside of the library. Princess Celestia was radiant as she examined the crestfallen pony. The hum of golden light softly tore through his ears, echoing against his skull as if pool balls were clacking every bone. She told him the condition was related to his talent, which to her credit he didn't even consider. But other than that, she told him what those doctors told him several times: there was nothing she could do. It was clear she was disappointed in her prognosis...but even if she weren't, Caramel would not have been angry with her. He was done being angry. He was done, period. Fancy Pants sadly agreed to end their contract and allow Caramel to remain in Ponyville without an agenda. It was clear there was no way they could overcome the circumstance. He recommended that the former speechmaker take the small fortune he had amassed and spend it conservatively. Caramel didn't feel like spending a single bit of it, apart from helping the Apple Family. Big Macintosh had to be goaded by his family members to take a small portion of it for necessary improvements, even though what he really wanted to do was stow it away with Caramel and never look at it. Seemingly at a loss for any word of comfort, Fancy Pants gave Caramel the restored medals with a sad smile. The ribbons were smaller than before. Caramel had Macintosh take them, not wanting to ruin a parting gift from his employer. Mac and Mel spend a few days together, lying next to each other quietly, playing shoes, nuzzling, playing shoes, napping, playing shoes...It was the most beautiful lie they created together, to sit in the summer sunlight in a dream of no responsibility. They wanted that dream to last. They wanted to do anything if it meant not submitting to what they knew they had to do. It was the only thing they could do; they wouldn't let themselves escape it. Caramel stood up on the last of those days, and the dream ended. And so everything slowly returned to how it was before: the two stallions had to find a way to deal with Caramel's complete inability to work, with professional help being worthless. They had exactly one lead, and they had only a vague idea of how to pursue it yet. Everypony else was content to leave them to their experiments, not wanting to witness just how crippling the condition made the pony that used to inspire them so much. At least a good field was available, and Applejack and her friends were there, too. But throughout the entire collapse of his career, Caramel kept turning back to that day when it ended. He could have sworn he saw a hammer and nail cutie mark in the crowd. But it might as well have melted into the fading dream. HorseCelestia's sun slowly rose behind the valley walls, coating the sky in a gentle rose palette. Rousing groggily from their sleepy haze, all the creatures big and small ventured into the fray to push themselves into the timeless momentum each day demanded. A few apple trees began to bear their sweet fruit, yet the time for harvest was still too soon. A dry, cool breeze belied the dew still heavy on each blade of grass. A moment in the day so measured and relaxed could only mean one thing: Frustration. Caramel squinted at the sun's rays tickling his closed eyes. He opened them. Regretting it instantly, he turned over to snuggle the big red lug next to him. Any second more like this would be worth putting off the hellish chore the both of them had to perform. Why couldn't he just stay like this, embracing the one pony who made his life bearable? Each light snore that shook his body was appreciated much more than just a funny quirk at that moment frozen in time. Big Macintosh snorted. Well, so much for peaceful slumber. Caramel groaned to himself. “Oh, hells...come on, get up, Mac.” As he understood it, Big Macintosh usually woke himself up before Caramel started living with him. Now the sleepy pony was content to use the other, lighter sleeper as his alarm clock. Hard worker or not, it was steadily becoming annoying. All that drivel about being in love with every single flaw a pony's special somepony had seemed to be just that. “Hey.” He nudged his boyfriend. “Boyfriend. Up and at 'em. I wanna get some food in me and get started, and without you there, it's kind of pointless.” Big Macintosh shifted a little on his side of the bed, smacking his lips. Just the sound of it made Caramel shudder. Focus...you can kill him later. “You'll get to play with the haaaaaay baleeeeeeeees...”, he sang. “I mean, you never do, but you can do it thiiiiiis tiiiiiiime...” He felt Mac's tail flick against him, but still nothing. He leaned in to speak directly in the pony's ear. “Get up before I shove you off the bed.” Smack, smack, smack. The idea was genuinely compelling to him now. Maybe then Mac would keep his mouth shut. He pushed both hooves on Big Macintosh's big back, straining to move him. Nothing. He grunted and cursed as he tried again. Not one inch. Desperately, he planted his hooves on the bed and used his head to budge the suddenly much larger and heavier pony. After fifteen seconds of spectacular effort, he just gave up and tried to catch his breath. “Did Granny...feed you steel...when you were...a foal?” As if hearing him, Caramel heard Immobile Macintosh chuckle in his sleep. He was ready to use everything ounce of strength he had to put the treacherous pony in his place. But suddenly, the door to the room flung open, making both of them start. “Both y'all git up right now! Ah want you two out there and outta this room today!” Sleepy Macintosh slowly sat up in the bed with Caramel and rubbed his eyes. The latter wondered just how little processing was going on in the stallion's head. He had to admit that flaw was cute...if for no other reason than its entertainment value. His rumbling morning voice had its charm as well. “...Whut now?” Applejack sighed before explaining: “Ah'm sick o' this wallowin' you two have been doin' for the past couple o' days. Ah know it's frustratin' to deal with it all, but it hasta be done! Now come on down and get yer breakfast.” She almost walked completely out of sight before she returned with a sheepish face. “Oh, an' Twilight will be joinin' you today. Ah'm not sure whut she plans t'do, but jus' humor her, okay?” After she trotted away, the two wallowers shared a conversation in a glance. Today was going to be memorable for a reason they couldn't divine, it just had to be. Mac yawned big and low enough to make some of the floorboards rattle. “Um...mornin'.” “...Morning. Sleep well?” “Eeyup...sorta.” Caramel saw him rub his back. As guilty as it made him feel, the motion itself drew attention to how well Mac was...proportioned. It was a nice perk that he had enjoyed more than once in places far, far away from Applebloom; in times of comfort and voluntary oblivion; in ways they continually invented each time... He felt itchy. Unfortunately. “Good, good...I guess we should get going.” “Eeyup.” “I'll get the shoes, you get the hay? After breakfast, obviously.” “Eeyup.” “...You going to start talking to me again? It's like your vocabulary shriveled up over the summer.” Mac pulled Mel in close and kissed him, morning breath and all. Mel hoped it wasn't too repulsive; then again, it wasn't ever before. And then again, as the kiss deepened, it was clear how meaningless it was. Who cared if a pony's breath was rank when said pony was caressing the other so thoroughly, so gently? He was completely awake by the time they parted. “Um...I guess some things don't need to be said.” Mac smiled, his eyes alight and engaged. He got a small lick under his chin. “Nnope!” Reluctantly, both of them got off the bed, went through the morning ritual side by side, and made to go downstairs as demanded. Before walking out the doorframe, Macintosh winced loudly and sat down to rub his back. Caramel tried to attend to his boyfriend before said boyfriend suddenly stopped and looked at him, with an accusing glance. He suppressed his thoughts and looked at the window. “...I tossed and turned a little.” Caramel lazily twirled a yellow shoe around his front right hoof, tossing a blue one from his tail aimlessly across the fallow field they were using for that day. He was forcing himself to keep trying at this, as much as it drained him. Macintosh would bring the rest of the hay bales over; Macintosh would watch him ruin the bales with no progress being made, no insight gained. He knew nothing would change, and why would it? That was his lot in life. Smile, Caramel, just smile. The one clue they got from the Princess just seemed to mock him. The only way they knew to go about it was to have them in the area when they experimented. Shoe tricks while laboring just sounded ridiculous. But then again, by this point, he would try all of them backwards just to learn something to make it all less terrible. “It's a nice day today, isn't it?” Caramel came to his senses at the sound of Twilight's voice. He hoped she could do something about...well, him. But he wasn't in the mood for small talk. “Sure.” Twilight frowned, then continued scribbling on her clipboard. The tired pony spotted Mac toting the damn bales over to him from the renovated barn, made possible by the money he accrued when he still had a job. The Apples had to rebuild it from the foundation: new wood, new red and white paint, new supporting structures, new everything. It looked gorgeous from where he stood, mostly because it contrasted so nicely with the dried, cracked mud of the field right next to it. His old shelter was a real barn now. BAM! BAM! BAM! Mac really seemed to like chucking the bales dangerously close to him. Maybe the big lug was trying to tell him something...? “Alright,” Twilight said as she looked up to both of them. “let's get started. I don't need to see you disintegrate a bale normally, Caramel; your description told me enough. But I'd like to try something specific with the shoes here.” Wait, she had a plan? A real one? Caramel's legs felt slightly lighter suddenly. Big Macintosh said nothing. “Okay, shoot,” said Caramel. “Take that one next to you and push on a bale with it. Do it slowly so I can see what happens, if you would please,” she ordered with an eager smile. Doing as told, the now optimistic pony picked up the silver-colored shoe and walked over to the square bale on his right. He placed the shoe between his hoof and the tightly packed hay, focusing his gaze purely on both. He pushed ever so slightly... I can do this. This could really be the answer...! ...then a little more... You're not actually sinking, it's just nerves. Come on, come on...! ...then a little more... Oh geez oh pony this is so nervewracking don't fall apart don't fall apart please! ...until he cleared a few inches in front of him. The bale moved as one unit. He did it. He was free. “...I did it. I-I DID IT! I REALLY DID IT! I ACTUALLY MOVED A DAMN BALE WITHOUT KILLING IT! HAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAA!” He leapt backwards into the air for a somersault, loving the rush of wind against his whole body... ...when he landed into a shallow basin that wasn't there before. It wasn't just any basin...it was huge and filled with grey, sandlike powder. It must have formed behind him as he pushed. Instantly, he was reminded of when he discovered his affliction as a foal. Little Macintosh was shaking the more stubborn apples out of the trees, and so he decided to mimick him. He pressed all his measly strength into the bark for a good shake...but he couldn't even budge it. He took a deep breath and just smiled. But when he looked down, he saw a grey patch of shredded grass and dirt beneath him. Horrified, he quickly covered it up with fresh dirt, which thankfully stayed fresh. He ran home to tell his mother. He did it. But he wasn't free. Of course he wasn't. “...Mel?” Mel looked around him. The hay bale stood silently over the edge of his 'accomplishment'. His boyfriend looked completely floored, and even Twilight had stopped scribbling to gape at the gaping hole. He hated their faces. “...Well, that's a 'grey' way to start,” he joked. They didn't laugh. He wanted to believe that was because it was a bad joke. “That...”, Twilight spoke in a tiny voice, “...was remarkable. It has to be twenty yards wide! This could mean your condition has directional properties, depending on--” “Twilight?” “Not now, I need to--” “Just stop.” Both of their faces slowly turned worried. He resisted the urge to plant his own into the dust just so he couldn't look at them. He settled for sitting in the dust instead. “Mel, let her help you. If'n whut she says--” “Mac, I can't do it,” said Caramel. “Not when stuff like this can happen. I don't want to...to decimate your farm...” He swallowed. “W-We gotta git past this,” Mac pressed. “Just do the same with all yer hooves, an' that should do it...right?” Twilight scribbled some before saying: “I...believe so! Yes! That should do the trick!” That was the single stupidest thing he had heard all day. “All four?! Are you two crazy?! The only way that would work is if I affixed the shoes to...” “...to...my hooves...” Of course. Why did nopony else think of it? Of course it was that simple. It had to be. It. Had. To. Be. He had to open his big mouth. “Miss Sparkle, Ah think you should leave.” “What?!”, Twilight complained. “But we're so close to--” “GIT OUTTA HERE!” Big Macintosh stared the curious mare down, making sure she didn't sneak her way back. What he wanted to say wasn't for anypony but himself and Caramel. Neither of them needed this sort of thing to be spread around town. As far as he was concerned, however, it was going to stop here. Caramel walked out of the depression in the field as he asked: “So why did you bark at her to leave? I mean, I'm guessing you had good reason for it, but--” “Yer not doin' it.” As he expected, the misguided stallion was confused. He was usually charmed by that confused face, but not now, not for this. “What? You mean shoe myself, right? Not something weird you just thought up?” Exasperated, he answered: “Why the hells would Ah mean somethin' else? Of course Ah mean you cain't shoe yerself. An' that's non-negotiable.” As he also expected, Caramel looked like he was ready to rip off his face. If he had to fight for his mandate, then so be it. He would win. “...Assuming that it would work, you have no right to deny me and you know it.” Here we go. “First of all,” he said with his chest puffed, “that's a mighty big 'assumin' there, babe. Second of all, Ah don' recall havin' no say in whut you do with yer life at all. And third of all...Ah said yer not doin' it, so yer not doin' it.” Caramel looked dumbfounded...but this was nowhere near the end. Not even close. “...Okay,” his defiant little colt grunted through clenched teeth, “then let me ask you something, Mr. Doesn't Understand Free Will: why the hells cain't Ah do it?” “Two reasons,” Macintosh illustrated with two shoes next to him, pointing to one after another. “One: yer not a horse. Two: YER NOT A DAMN HORSE.” “OH REALLY?!”, Caramel threw back, getting a shoe to twirl as he spoke. “That's really funny, then, seeing as my talent is HORSE-shoes. I guess I'm just a mindless wannabe.” “Shoes,” he insisted. “An' nopony wants t'be a horse. Those days are long gone, an' good riddance.” “...Mac. Call them what they are. Horseshoes. To be honest, I don't know why ponies don't call them that anyway.” He couldn't believe what he was hearing. “After all, it's not like--” “Are you SERIOUS?! Didja just SLEEP durin' yer school days?!” “I flunked. Remember? You were there when I attended my last day.” Mac flustered at the thought. He did flunk, didn't he? That just fit the situation so perfectly. “...Ah thought that wuz you switchin' t'homeschoolin',” he suggested anyway. “...In a way,” Caramel offered. “My dad took me out to investigate my condition and start me in job hunts. He sorta taught me then.” Caramel, Caramel, Caramel...what all has that pony done t'you? “...So I guess I should just ask then: what exactly is a horse, anyway?” “Now why in Equestria are you askin'...WHUT IN TARNATION?!” Applejack stopped in front of the gaping hole in the middle of the fallow field, eyes as wide as they could go. A few horseshoes dotted the perimeter and the inside. “...If'n this is normal fer you, Caramel, Ah don' really want you researchin' on mah farm. Land sakes...literally.” Despite how it probably appeared to his boyfriend, Macintosh knew this was the perfect opportunity. History lessons were always better with a personal touch, after all. “Caramel...”, he drawled, “wants t'shoe himself. He thinks it's a good idea.” His sister made no expression at the news, but instead started scanning the sky. “Keep in mind he missed some schoolin',” Mac commented. “But...you know.” “...AJ?”, the clueless pony questioned anxiously. “Whaddya think?” Applejack kept examining the sky. “Um...what are you doing, exactly?” She looked straight at Caramel and said: “Looking for hordes of ancient pegasi warriors. Looks like they didn't get the memo.” Mac made a point of laughing at the joke; it rumbled richly and obnoxiously, carrying all across the ruined field. Mel looked miserable as his ears drooped...but dammit, it was for his own good. “Okay, okay...I take it 'shoeing' has a reputation I didn't know about, and it has to do with what a horse is.” “Eeyup,” both brother and sister confirmed. “And that means a horse is probably some...Earth Pony warrior from ancient times.” “Eeyup.” “...Actually, just a pony warrior in general,” AJ clarified. “Okay. Sooooooo me getting shod would be like...a declaration of war, even though nopony's fighting.” “Well, whut you missed in school, you make up fer in smarts,” said Applejack. As Caramel's misery deepened, Mac couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret. The poor pony really didn't know any of this, but he needed to make the correct impression. If he didn't... “So what?”, said Caramel. ...Whut? “I mean, it's not like we're in a war right now.” Whut?! “And I'm sure ponies would be understanding, since it's an old ritual anyway.” WHUT?! “So history or no history, I don't see--” “HOW CAN YOU...Ah mean,” Macintosh forced out, “Ah think yer bein' too nonchalant 'bout this. AJ, back me up here.” AJ looked conflicted. Why did she look conflicted? What conflict could there possibly be? “Well, when he puts it that way...Ah dunno, big brother.” Ah have no sister. Well, 'cept for Applebloom. “Ah do,” Big Macintosh insisted. “You shoe yerself an' we'll all have ponies losin' their minds like in the cataclysm. These things are weapons when they're lodged in hooves. You know how strong Ah am now?” Caramel didn't seem concerned. Mac could pull houses by hopping, and Caramel didn't seem concerned. He was beginning to feel the little pony had spent too much time with him. “Yeah, what of it?”, said Caramel. “Imagine if'n Ah had metal on mah hooves," said Macintosh. "Ah could easily kill a pony with that.” “Shoot...,” Applejack interjected, “not even a kick. Jus' a vague gesture would do th' trick. Them shoes were hung back in th' day as good luck charms fer battles. Now, they're jus' decorative or tossed 'round. Ah think even th' royal guards ain't shod jus' t'prevent any mishaps.” Mac nodded. “You shoe yerself,” he reiterated, “an' yer actions could be deadly fer somepony.” Now Caramel just seemed confused, scratching his chin in what Mac hoped was thought on how shoeing was wrong. But he had a feeling the fight wasn't finished. “Well, you'd kill a pony because you're HUGE. I mean, come on. What would it really matter if I did it?”, the little pony objected with a laugh. “I'm just a regular stallion, nothing that special.” “Even a little colt like you could be a weapon with those,” Macintosh elaborated. Right then, he imagined Caramel buying food in the town market, when he would innocently stick his hooves out trying to reach his purchase and knock some poor sap unconscious. “...I don't really buy that.” “It's true, an' yer gonna hafta trust me. It's a hard fact Ah don' wanna prove.” “Well...”, a stubborn Mel continued, “I'll just be careful. Even if I mess up, it's not like I have giant hooves to bore anypony, right?” “An' that's the other problem,” he rebutted bitterly. It was the last thing he wanted to imagine...but Mel just wouldn't quit. He closed the distance between them and picked up one of the pony's hooves, pressing it against one of his own. He had to fight the silliest urge to nuzzle him, as infuriating as it was. “Oh?”, Caramel said with audible unease. “W-Whaddya mean by this?” “Look at yer hoof...then look at mine. See the problem?” He watched his colt examine both hooves, looking none the wiser afterward. How could he not notice? “Where is there a problem?” “Yer sole's bare,” he answered anyway. “Mine's got a wall here as you can see. If'n Ah got shod, it'd be fine...maybe a little tingly. But you'd be shoving nails into yer legs, Caramel. Didja think 'bout that at all?” “Oh, heavens t'Betsy, Ah didn't even think 'bout that!”, AJ commented. “S-Shoot, jus' th' thought of it...Caramel, you'd be nothin' short' o' crazy t'do that! Most ponies would, really, since only a few still have that part o' the hoof. Ah reckon some ponies jus' stopped comin' with 'em after it stopped.” “Ah'm not even sure it could be done without breakin' yer bones, babe. So...all that's why you cain't shoe yerself.” After he said that, however, it suddenly sounded slightly hollow to him. But why would it? Nothing he had said was false. Just to be safe, he brushed Mel's hair a little to remind the pony of his intent. Caramel's face was neutral now. Mac knew his mare made that face when she was about to rip his argument to shreds. He was ready for whatever she had to throw at him, even if it took all day to debunk. He was not going to lose this. “All I have to say to that,” the stubborn pony started with a gesture to the crater, “is this.” As Caramel said it, a gust of wind picked up some of the dust in the basin and swept it off to some strange corner of the world. The hole looked even bigger now. Mac sat down and cradled his face in his hooves. He hated this. He hated this so very much. “I try not to complain about my condition. Really I do. But the fact that I'm capable of this is so awful sometimes I can't breathe. And you know...? Something just occurred to me.” Macintosh just sat there silently, too anxious to ask what Caramel meant. “...This pit happened when we had a few horseshoes around. At the stadium, we had dozens of them. My curse is directly affected by these, it has to be. A-And I know full well the shoes themselves don't make the problem when I use them. So...it's the only real solution. It has to be.” “...Nnope.” “I have to shoe myself to keep whatever this is...contained.” “Nnope.” He exaggerated standing up and pressing his face to Mel's. Mel pushed back as defiantly as the last time. “Mac, you just stop it. This is my decision. I wasn't kidding when I said you have no right to stop me.” Off toward the apple trees, Mac heard hoofsteps headed away from the site. “Nnope!” Caramel looked ready to attack him as he blocked the pony from leaving. It was all he had left. “Now, big brother, jus' calm down...,” his sister objected from somewhere in the distance. “Yeah, if you'd stop being a JERK for one second, then you'd SEE why I need to--” “NO, CARAMEL!” The ground trembled as he stomped it. “AH SAID NO! YER NOT DOIN' IT, AN' THAT'S THAT!” The little stallion was speechless. Good. It was time for this to end. “...Ah'll pin you down if Ah hafta. An' you don' want me t'do that, trust me.” His brain was on fire. This was wrong. Everything he was doing was wrong, but he had no choice. Caramel couldn't go and do that to himself...to him. “...Do it.” ...Oh, no. Mac couldn't escape the dead-eyed expression Mel was giving him. That was the ugliest Mel had ever looked, even as the pony laid down in front of him like so many times before. “Go ahead and pin me down. I don't care. It's nothing you haven't done before, anyway.” “Ah'm gonna go now. I-It's clear Ah'm not needed,” Applejack announced as she galloped away. He glared at the traitor, making her run away faster. “Goodbye, Applejack. Or...,” Mel teased darkly, “should I say goodbye to everypony? It's up to you. If I can't get this because you won't let me...” Don' say it. Don' you dare say it. “...Then I might as well be dead.” You little...! “I'm ready to fight for this, babe. I have plenty of weapons at my disposal. Come on. Let's do this.” He stood purposefully over Caramel, staring down the reckless pony. “...Yer not doin' it.” “Not doing what? Not getting shod, or not getting...not getting...oh, pony, what am I doing?” There's mah babe. Welcome back. “I...I just...I just want out. I want out of this; it's all I've ever wanted. I-I don't...think that's unreasonable...!” In an instant, tears started to flow down Mel's face. Big Macintosh felt his purpose crumble before him. His might was gone, his voice was weak, his eyes burned, and he just felt meek. The sight of this silly pony in the grips of despair...it just wasn't right. He bent down to be the comforter he wanted to be. ...Oh, pony, what have Ah done? Caramel...oh, mah sweet baby, why cain't Ah fix you? Why am Ah so helpless?! “Mel, baby, please...” he soothed as he embraced him. “Ah jus' don' want you to hurt yerself like that. I mean, if'n it didn't work...you'd be stuck with it. You'd be stuck with ponies bein' afraid o' you and you bein' afraid o' yerself. Ah don' want that fer you, you gotta believe me...” Caramel sniffled. “I...I get that,” the tragic pony said weakly. “I don't get why you won't let me do it. It's the only way and you know it!”, he finished with an angry crescendo. “Mel...” “I'm...I'm begging you, Mac. Please...let me do this. If it doesn't work – even though it will...then that'll be my problem.” If'n it were only that simple...Ah shoulda just offered t'support him mahself. Too late now, with how he's actin'. “It'd be mah problem, too, babe,” he corrected. “Ah'd...Ah'll...” ...Ah cain't believe Ah'm doin' this. Dammit, you play me like a fiddle without even tryin', Caramel. “Oh, damn it to the six hells.” Caramel's eyes widened. “You mean...?!” “...It's not worth makin' you miserable t'keep you from doin' it,” he conceded. “So...so you can...*sigh* you can go on an' hammer nails in yer hooves if'n it makes you happy.” Ah'll never forgive mahself fer this, will Ah? His introspection was quickly cut off by Mel's thankful tongue. Each generous lick suspended his misery just a little...until he shared his own tongue in a blissful caress. Mac found himself hoping that if he kept Mel there long enough in the kiss, eventually all the ponies willing to shoe him would die so he could relax. Or if they weren't dead, he could just...displace them in convenient locations, slip them some bits to keep them quiet. And if that didn't work... ...When did Ah start havin' evil thoughts? T'ain't like me—oh yeah, right there...If'n every argument ended like this, horses wouldn't even have existed. The two parted far too soon. Caramel had that gentle fire in his eyes again, thank Celestia. “Well then,” his colt began, “I have some letters to write. I know a few doctors that would probably do it--” Oh really? Whut are their names? Really, Ah'd like t'know... ...Dammit, stop that, Macintosh. “--and they should really read it from me. It'll be a coin toss, sure, but it'll be worth it.” Macintosh flashed to a scenario of Mel beside himself with grief in front of a shredded pile of drafts. If that's what the pony wanted...sheesh. He felt itchy. “Mmhmm.” “Hey, come on”, Mel soothed. “It's all gonna be okay. I promise. Now let's get outta this field.” Mac snorted as he pulled Mel up slowly. He was doing everything in his power to fight off the image of the sweet pony at the mercy of some deranged practitioner, shoving in nail by nail. He refused to believe it really came down to that...but there wasn't anything he could do. Baby, it's gonna hurt...in more ways than one. Ah sure hope yer right. Twilight analyzed her data for the fifth time, absolutely convinced of what it meant and what she had to do. Horseshoes and disintegration...the Princess had to know about this. PatientDear Dr. Cardio, I want to see if it's possible for me to be shod in your office. I know how that sounds, but it'll be fine if you look at your data on me, I think you'll agree it just makes sense it's the only option. I'm enclosing my hoof measurements in case you agree. I'm fully capable of paying extra if the process... “...Dammit!” Caramel threw another shredded and smeared draft into the trash. “Watch yer mouth!”, said Applebloom. Caramel grinned sheepishly. “Sorry...wait. When did you learn that word?” Applebloom blushed, ducking out of the room. After a few dozen tries, Caramel finally managed to write the three request letters to the three doctors he suspected would perform the surgery-ritual-whatsit. It became a lot easier once he finished the first one: he just had to apply the same pressure two more times...or twenty. He had to rush Macintosh out of the room to make sure the pony didn't try to help; it was important to him to write his own letters for once. After a wearisome persuasion, he did convince Big Macintosh to deliver the sealed envelopes to the mailbox to avoid any further possible mishaps; the grumpy pony only did so after a long, hard stare to try and make Mel regret what he was going to do. Fat chance of that. The Apple Family waited a long, tense three days time for the response. In the meantime, the other members besides Mac decided to weigh in on the decision. On the second day after breakfast, the others pulled him aside. “Now Ah wouldn't've tolerated any o' this nonsense from mah dear Appletree when she wuz still here,” started Granny Smith, “but it's clear as sky this ain't just some dim-witted impulse t'look like some rough an' tumble warrior. Ah don' like it, let me make that clear: Ah don' like it one bit. But nopony should live with what you've had t'suffer, Mel. Ah reckon this is one o' 'em 'necessary evils'. So you jus' make sure yer not dealin' with some quack, an' come back in one piece,” she finished with a cautionary eyebrow raise. Mel was floored. That old biddy had made a better speech in thirty seconds than any of his over three months. And she called him 'Mel'...Life was a little brighter just then. Mac seemed to be furiously debating himself, if the pony's face was any indication. “Oh, no offense, Quincy.” “QUACK!” Caramel looked to his family: they seemed to recognize the quack as Quincy taking it in stride. He watched the duck waddle off toward the lake again. Applebloom had some trouble understanding what was at stake, but she seemed to accept the gravity of it all once broken bones were mentioned. She seemed speechless by herself...but then her two friends ran in from behind the open window and decided to give their opinions. “I don't know if it's worth hurting yourself, mister,” said Sweetie Belle. Mac smiled at the filly. Of course he would, the turkey. No offense intended to Terrence, obviously. “So...you'll be shoving nails into your bare hooves to stop ruining things and be stronger?” Caramel himed and hawed at the question before answering: “More or less.” Scootaloo frowned. She seemed ill at ease at the concept...until: “That is just too cool! Only a pony like Rainbow Dash would dare to do that. I can't wait to see how it turns out!” Slightly unnerved, Caramel just smiled and turned to Applebloom. The filly looked highly conflicted. Like brother, like sister, it seemed. “Mel?” Mel had to keep himself from grinning like a madpony. “Yes, Applebloom?” “Are you gonna be okay, after this? 'Zit, you know...gonna backfire or somethin'?” Everypony else in the room looked to him. He knew exactly what to say, though. “It very well might, I dunno,” he said with a smile. “But that's okay. I need to try, and if it doesn't work, then we'll just try something else. But to be perfectly honest--” Mac cleared his throat very loudly. “...I would say you don't have to worry about it,” he finished with a glare to his boyfriend. Mac grimaced, looking askance to the open window. Who knew what that devilish lug was thinking, really? That devilish...handsome lug. Ahem. Applebloom frowned a little. That filly wasn't going to be satisfied on a maybe, it seemed; he'd have to remember that. Mel decided to whisper in her ear: “I was just being modest; it's going to work, and that's the truth.” Applebloom smiled. Mac sighed. Granny Smith seemed confused. “Well, Ah'll be honest,” said Applejack, “Ah dunno how Ah feel 'bout this. It's right on th' cusp o' evil an' good, if'n you ask me. All Ah'm gonna say is...it had better work.” “...Eeyup,” said Caramel. The entire room lapsed into an uncomfortably long awkward silence. “...Well, I dunno about y'all, but that shoe pile outside ain't gonna do tricks on itself.” On the third day, Caramel and Big Macintosh out to check the mail with a touch of anxiety. Despite their disagreement on the issue, the latter begrudgingly admitted to the former that getting refused on the matter would be disheartening; but only because Mac couldn't think of any other possible solution at the time. They didn't talk on the way. They saw the mailbox: the flag was up. Both ponies sighed, but for different reasons. “It's about time,” said Caramel. “Three days should never feel that long.” “...Nnope.” Mel knew too well that his lover wanted them to be even longer. But he also knew if that happened, then he would have to punish the worrisome pony for slowing down time itself. At least Mac didn't refuse to check the letters once they were here; accidental shredding was one risk neither of them were willing to take. Mac opened the mailbox and took out two thin envelopes...and one big one. “Looks like we have a winner there!” “...Eeyup.” “You fought a good fight, guy,” Caramel soothed sarcastically. “Now let's see what...Cardio has to say!” Caramel watched as Macintosh opened the envelope: the grouch couldn't have done it more reluctantly if he tried, each agonizing inch of tearing showing on his face. As long as Mac didn't ruin the letter, Mel would let him be as melodramatic as he wanted. Ten pages were inside, most of it looking like medical information. He watched Mac peruse the first two pages, his brow furrowing with each second. “...Well, come on, what's it say?”, Caramel pressed. Mac looked up from the pages, staring straight to the horizon. He had the most magnificent pout as he extended his hoof to make them visible to Mel. “...Uh huh...oh, that's great! I didn't count on him doing it for free!” Mac groaned softly. “Oh, get over yourself. Let's see...hmm...oh. That's not good. No, t-that's not good at all.” “Nnope.” “...Well, it's not gonna stop me.” Mac sighed and deeply bowed his head. Then he pulled himself back up, clearly fighting the temptation to just flop onto the ground. “...Yikes. I'm glad he could get custom horseshoes. I didn't even know he knew my skeletal structure enough to do that.” “...Shoes,” grunted Mac. “Horseshoes.” “Shoes.” “...Anyway. So we just need to leave for Canterlot tomorrow morning, get there by 1:00, and come home with shiny new hooves! Can't wait!” Big Macintosh did flop on the ground with a loud groan after Mel finished, dropping the papers behind him in the dirt path. Mel had to jump sharply to his right to avoid disintegrating the letter. He ended up stumbling right on top of his stud. Mac felt extremely tense. Mel rubbed the grouch's shoulders, getting a weary chuckle in return. “But seriously, Mac...thank you,” he said as sweetly as he could. “For putting up with this. It really, really means a lot to me.” He nuzzled him. Mac turned his head and nuzzled Mel in return...very thoroughly. “Eeyup.” “I...really, really love you.” “Heh heh, eeyup.” “T-This is big of you t-to do...!” Mel started panting. Mac nuzzled even more slowly. “Eeyup!” “You're the o-only one I'd...okay, you're making it hard f-for me to massage you.” Mac chuckled richly, licking under Mel's chin. “Ah bet.” Mel felt the need to sit down before his knees became too weak. “O-Okay, I'll just...um...oh, screw it.” He collapsed on top of Mac purposefully. “EEEEEEEEEEEEEK!” “GAH!” Caramel rolled off of Big Macintosh at the sound of the shriek. Some mare they couldn't see (her voice suggested she was probably Lily) in their haphazard state galloped away. Mel blushed at the realization of what he was ready to do in front of anypony. Even though their relationship had been public for months, it seemed open displays of affection were still shocking. It annoyed the two of them, but they knew such displays by anyponies were only tolerated on certain times of the year like Hearts and Hooves Day, so it was just as well. They had more important things to worry about, anyway. “Um...we should go back and start planning,” said Mel as he got up. Mac stood up himself before responding: “Eeyup...wait.” “Huh?” “You were massaging me,” Mac explained. “Why couldn't you--” “Oh,” Mel answered. “They were wearing towels.” “Whut?”, asked Mac as he stowed the letter in his saddlebag. “...Don't ask.” Mac looked completely bewildered...then started a gentle bellylaugh. Mel felt himself smiling in embarrassment. “Let's just say those mares won't look at me the same way again.” Mac reared his head back as he laughed even harder. His voice rumbled all around them, and then Mel wasn't quite as embarrassed. “...It wouldn't have been so bad if I didn't massage the lower bits.” “OHOHOHOHOHO! O-Oh, that's bad, Mel. Ah'm s-sorry you hadta-AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAA! So t-that's why after showers you made me towel you off-FFFFFFFFFF-HEHEHEHEHEHE!” Mel blushed, but he was still smiling. “Well, it's not like you were unwilling.” “HAHAhaha...true. Ah just...just wanted t'MASSAGE YA-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Now that he thought about it, he had never seen Mac laugh that hard at anything. And considering what would happen tomorrow...he decided to just let him laugh. Caramel, Big Macintosh, and Applejack had been in a blur all through the train ride. The only thoughts on their minds were how the other Apple sibling could be there – because the acreage could be idle for one day with no real consequences – why she decided to be there – because she felt her brother and her friend could use the support – and how telling it was for the last few months' events that Caramel did not have to explain himself for sitting alone in the middle of the aisle. Apart from that, they didn't want to think about anything else. Ponies kept saying how Canterlot looked different every year; but even as Caramel and Applejack looked at it, it looked the same as the last time they were there. Sure, there wasn't a red carpet at the gate, but fancy ponies were still fancy, pretty buildings were still pretty...did cities ever actually change? Big Macintosh just took in the sight himself. Caramel thought it was like watching a big dog doing the same thing. The blur still steeped in their minds guided them to the office in question: curiously low-key for Canterlot. In fact, it was very modest in comparison to the buildings surrounding it, having only two stories. But Caramel knew it was the right place; he had been taken there enough times, and the letter he sent got a reply, so the address he had must not have changed. The three of them entered as the blur on their minds was quickly blown into the ether, and was soon replaced with an unbearable anticipation. The office on the inside looked similar to the general practitioner's office back in Ponyville (who was one of the letter recipients, who also categorically refused to shoe anypony whatsoever). The lobby was reasonably accommodating for the moderate number of ponies the Apples suspected – and Caramel knew – came for medical attention. No quirky/artsy arrangement of chairs, no fashion statements for the walls or ceiling or anything, no conceited aroma, no overdressed reception ponies, no help ponies serving drinks, no ponies... No ponies whatsoever. The office was void of all life, apart from the three of them and a fern in the far left corner. They stepped forward warily, sharing the muted fear of a trap... Suddenly, the one door to their right started humming. They looked to see it enveloped in a pale blue glow, opening to reveal a middle-aged, white Unicorn in a lab coat. The red and blue hairs of his mane twisted around each other in a natural second ponytail, although it was all slightly frazzled. He looked ridiculously stressed...but he smiled that smile made for comforting others. “I thought I heard hoofsteps,” Dr. Cardio greeted. “It's nice to see you again, Caramel. You can come on back whenever you like.” “Um...”, stalled the three, looking around them. “Oh, I cleared the clinic for today. I figured random patients didn't need to see what's going to happen here, and as for my receptionist, I just wanted a day away from her for once, haha! I'm sure...well, anyway, follow me.” The good doctor waved for them to go with him down the hallway and to the third door on the right. The four of them walked into a simple check-up room: cabinets, tongue depressors in a jar, butcher paper on a doctor's table, and so on. No tools for shoeing were apparent. “Now I know what you're thinking,” offered Dr. Cardio, “but this is just next door to where it'll happen. We'll discuss it first in here.” The other three looked to their left: a wooden door with a sign, with the words 'OPERATING ROOM', waited for Caramel. The room suddenly felt much warmer than before. The patient sat on the doctor's table without a word. “Caramel, Caramel, Caramel...” the doctor began as he levitated a clipboard to himself, “you've always been a head-scratcher. But your letter got me thinking about that old ritual, and I talked with your other examiners. We all agree it's the most probable solution--” Mac snorted. “Oh, hush,” chided Caramel. “...even though they didn't want anywhere near the actual process,” finished the doctor. “No surprises there,” said Applejack. “But yeah, it was so simple once we found out about it,” Caramel commented. “I was...kind of mad you guys didn't think of it, to be perfectly honest.” Mel spied Mac whispering out of the corner of his mouth: “That's 'cuz it's unthinkable.” Dr. Cardio shrugged before responding: “It's a mea culpa. If I had thought of it, I would have told you. Even though it's not exactly a peaceloving sentiment. When I was looking through the few records of it that exist, I kept getting drawn to how pressure played a role...” Blah blah blah blah blah... “...might be because the shoes were in lines, creating a kind of magical circuit to amplify the decay...” Always the same with doctors. I like this one, but he's still another doctor. They never stop yapping about what they think. It's never hard, cold facts...or at least, not for me. Passive magic theory this, historical possibility that. He already told me the one possible parallel to this was a dead end; why is he rehashing it? And look at those two, drinking in every word. This butcher paper is itchy... “...but it turned out to be a dead end. I can't tell you how frustrating that was, I really can't.” Wait. Usually butcher paper just melts when I lay on it. And this feels different... “...so you can imagine why shoes have befuddled scientists for centuries. Maybe it's the shape, maybe it's the process of making them; it's a mystery I'm sure will never be solved.” “Hey, sorry to interrupt,” Caramel interrupted, “but is this some new kind of butcher paper or something?” “Oh! You noticed!”, said Dr. Cardio, turning to face him. “Yes, in fact it is. I was considering your condition again with the letter you sent, and besides the horseshoe, er, shoe element--” Mel noticed Mac frown ever so slightly. When would the silly pony let that go? “--It occurred to me anything that's meant to be sat or lied upon is probably safe. But that's assuming it's Earth Pony made or part of nature. I suspect the stadium debacle only really happened because everything in there was artificially produced by Unicorns without Earth Ponies in mind. If you think about it, it's really strange they would do that for athletic events featuring Earth Ponies...but them's the breaks, as they say.” “Huh...I wish I had known that earlier,” said Caramel. After he said that, he realized it came off as sarcastic. “Believe me, I wish I had known as well,” countered Dr. Cardio, “but there's just not enough known about this condition; there's so little to go on. Not to mention your father wasn't keen on you being experimented on, which is understandable.” Mel noticed Mac narrow his eyes ever so slightly. He knew full well the overprotective pony wasn't about to stop being overprotective. It was just his way...apparently. Mel just hoped his father wasn't going to be brought up much more. “Hold on, hold on,” Applejack chimed in. “Whut 'bout this here clinic? Ain't it made by Unicorns?” “Actually, no,” answered the doctor cheerfully. “I commissioned this building to be made by Earth Ponies, using materials they would normally use for a clinic. Nothing beats that kind of craftwork, I have to say,” he finished with a flattering smile. Now that Caramel thought about it, when he came here as a foal, any steps he made on the streets of Canterlot left “dirty” prints. The ritzy types just thought he was a dirty commoner who didn't respect their property. Or at least that's what he gathered by the looks they gave him. As for when he came here today... Whoops. I'm sure that was a nasty surprise for the street cleaners. ...Hey, wait a minute. “Wait a minute,” said Caramel. “When I found out about shoeing as a solution, I bore a hole in the ground. That's not Unicorn made at all!” The doctor sighed. “It's just a theory. Maybe the number of shoes had something to do with that like you wrote?” Or maybe my body likes screwing with me. “Maybe.” That's wasn't the first time I marred the ground, either. That grass was completely shredded when I copied Mac. How can any of this make sense? This condition just seems to make up its own rules as it goes along! It'll wreck whatever it sees fit! Even as a foal, it would jerk me away from shoe tricks to show me how... Wait a minute. That's right; I was playing with a horseshoe before I pushed the tree. Maybe the theory's right after all. Sheesh, the only reason I was playing with it was to make that whooshing sound. To be young again... To be normal again... Well, this is the next best thing. “Caramel?” Mel jerked his head up at Applejack's voice. “Huhwha?” “He asked you if'n you wanted the painkiller or not. Ah dunno whut featherbrain of a pony wouldn't, but please tell me yer goin' t'take it. Ah don' care how tough those callouses are, those nails are gonna hurt like th' dickens.” Caramel sighed. He knew this was going to be a controversial decision. “Doc, you told me it might keep the nails from setting, right?” “WHUT?!”, shouted Applejack. Big Macintosh just shut his eyes. Dr. Cardio bowed his head. Caramel was suddenly more cognizant of how unpleasant this would be for anypony whatsoever. His heart skipped a beat. “Yes, unfortunately,” the doctor stated. “The only painkiller that would be strong enough could interrupt the flow of passive magic to your hooves. In case you two don't know what that means, it risks his body rejecting the shoes; that's the reason I recommended against it. It's not that likely, but I think we all know how important this is to him...” Caramel sighed. “So there isn't any alternative?” “Any milder painkiller...,” the doctor responded, “might as well be a glass of water. It wouldn't do anything useful for you. Believe me when I say I'm terribly sorry, Caramel.” Caramel buried his head in his non-shod, bare hooves. So this was it. The only way to ensure his life would get better was to be awake and alert as they were mutilated. Wussing out and taking the painkiller risked making things that much worse for him. The best thing he could say about it was that it made his decision simple. “I am not risking something like that for this.” “YOU IDIOT!”, roared Mac, making Dr. Cardio cringe. “AH CAIN'T BELIEVE YOU'D--” “FINE, YOU TELL ME YOUR IDEA! I'm all ears...” He mocked his lover by flicking his ears up and down. He expected Mac to stomp through the tiled floor...but instead, the big lug screwed up his face gloriously in what Mel assumed was thought. He had never seen Mac this determined to come up with something. “...Paste?”, Macintosh offered weakly. “HAHAHAHAHA!”, roared Mel. “That's a good one, hon! What, did you come with that all by...yourself...wait, could that actually work?! If the paste were strong enough, that is?” “HAHAHAHAHA!”, roared the doctor. “If only! But in seriousness, the idea is to have your body accept the shoes, not just slap them on. The metal needs to be in direct contact with your hooves, with no foreign substance messing with the flow of passive magic. Something like paste wouldn't keep anyway, with the flow destroying anything between yourself and the shoes. That's the same reason the nails we have are made from the same metal as the shoes; they'll essentially become part of them.” Applejack seemed to be lost for comment. Caramel didn't blame her in the slightest. “Well, I think that's everything!”, said Dr. Cardio. “If you'd come this way, Mel.” Caramel jerked his head toward the door as he stepped off the doctor's table. His brain was on fire; his heart was pumping madly; he was so scared, and yet so, so eager. It hurt so much. “Oh, there is just one thing,” teased the doctor. “What?!”, cried Caramel. “I doubt either of you two would want to accompany him, but you are welcome to do so as long as you don't interfere.” Mel instantly felt clammy. He looked to the Apple siblings, who couldn't have looked more conflicted if they tried. “Well, Ah...heh...,” started Applejack, “Ah'd like t'support you an' all, but Ah don' know if'n Ah could watch that...let alone listen to it. Ah ain't proud of it, but--” “It's okay,” Caramel soothed. “I don't really want you watching or listening to it either. It's...well, it is what it is.” He looked to Mac...sweet, overprotective Mac. The lovable lug seemed to be beating himself up over this. “Ah...it'd only be right ta...ta...oh, Ah cain't do this. Ah'm sorry babe, Ah jus' cain't.” Caramel smiled. “No worries. I'll be done in, what, half an hour?” “That sounds about right,” answered the doctor. “If you wish to stay in here, I'll soundproof the door.” The Apples visibly shuddered. “We'll wait in the lobby,” Applejack answered for both of them. Both of them started walking for the entrance. “Alright, then. Right this way, brave one.” Caramel walked into the operating room. He saw another doctor's table, but this one had restraints, presumably to keep him still. He also saw an operating assistant with a hammer and nail cutie mark. He supposed it was fate. The assistant pulled out three normal horseshoes and one round horseshoe that was flat at the top. Maybe it was a special one for his left hind leg? That was considerate of them to make. All four of them had eight holes, but spaced uniquely from each other. Eight holes... Finally, he saw the nails. “Um...,” he stalled, “are they supposed to be that long?” The assistant turned to face him before answering gruffly: “They won't go all the way in. I'll cut them off once they've set.” Caramel was wild-eyed as he turned to the doctor, grinning nervously. “Ooooooooon second thought, I think the painkiller would be a good idea.” Big MacintoshApplejack sat quietly next to her brother. It was hard to know what to say, even though there was quite a bit to be said. So much had happened a few months ago, and another onslaught of drama came right on the heels of it...and right to her door. Again. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. She was never one for clock gazing. Even in school, she found a way to stay engaged during the most inane lectures on arithmetic. Granted, it involved pretending the numbers on the number line were sheep she needed to herd, but it did help her memorize that times table. This clock, however, was hypnotizing her into a near state of meditation. Each second seemed to be synchronized with her heart. Tick. Tock. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Tick. Tock. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. “...Ah'm bored.” “Eeyup.” Tick. Tock. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. “...He'll be fine. He's tougher than he looks.” “...Ah know.” Tick. Tock. “...You gonna be fine, big brother?” “...Ee...mmhmm.” “Come again?” “Ah'll be okay, sis.” Tick. Tock. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. “...Mind if Ah ask you an odd question?” “...Shoot.” “Ah know yer protective o' him an' all but...um...oh, how do Ah word this?” “Take yer time...” Tick. Tock. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. “...Why 'zactly were you so set against this? Now, before you answer, consider this: if'n you take out the painful surgery an' the statement o' warfare 'gainst nopony in particular, what's there left? Not much.” That's right, ain't it?...Yeah. That's it. Tick. Tock. “Sure, ponies will be scared o' him, at least at first, and he's in some real agony right now, but...all things considered, ain't it jus' a small price to pay? It's jus' a short-term mess to sort out a long-term one, if'n you ask me,” finished Applejack. Tick. Ba-dum. Tock. “...Ah dunno.” She finally looked to her brother: he was slumped over the floor, staring at the tiles in front of him. He really didn't know, did he? “Whut coulda gotten you so riled up, then?”, she asked in a purposefully neutral tone. Tick. Tock. Ba-dum. “...Ah'm not rightly sure. Ah just knew Ah didn't like it.” “Well, nopony likes it, sugarcube,” she commented. “But you were th' only one t'try and keep him from doin' it.” “Not true,” he snapped. “Them other doctors wouldn't touch it.” Tick. Sigh. Tock. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. “T'ain't the same thing, an' you know it.” “An' jus' whut would you—n-nevermind.” Applejack grimaced. This had to get somewhere, or she would never be satisfied. Ba-dum. Tick. Tock. “Big brother, it's clear as day somethin's eatin' you up. But t'ain't whut you say it is. Now just open up t'yer little sister and tell th' truth.” Groan. Ba-dum. Tick. Tock. “Ah done told you th' truth, sis; Ah really don' know.” “Big Macintosh. Think back. You know how silly that sounds? How could you not know?” “...If'n it sounds silly, then Ah guess Ah'm jus' silly.” Tick. Tock. Ba-dum. “Ah don' reckon Ah like that answer,” challenged Applejack. “Tough. S'all Ah got.” Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. “So yer tellin' me you threatened yer lover jus' cuz yer a silly pony? Mac, you look me in th' eyes an' tell me that makes sense.” Applejack watched her brother slowly...too slowly turn his head to face her. They fixed their gazes upon each other. Tick. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Tock. She furrowed her brow trying to perceive him, to see past his own defiant eyes filling her vision. Green irises flaring, shrinking pupils...eeyup, he was hiding something. But then he quickly relaxed, his eyes returning to normal. Ba-dum. Tick. Tock. Ba-dum. Applejack just kept her gaze stony and piercing. Each second seemed to be passing by slower and slower... Tick. Tock. Ba-dum. She had heard two mountains couldn't move each other if they were standing still...but this mountain sure as all six hells wasn't about to budge. Tick. Come on, you big turkey. Fess up. Tock. ...Big Macintosh's gaze slipped to the right. “Ah knew it,” she declared. The big turkey groaned and flopped back to the ground, covering his muzzle with his hooves. Time moved normally again. “Look, Ah'm not tryin' t'make you feel bad here. Ah jus' want t'know what could make my own brother act that way. It was a mite scary, an' Ah ain't keen on seein' it 'gain.” “...'Zat why you ran away, then?” Tick. Blush. Tock. “L-Let's not make this 'bout me.” “Oh, 'course not.” Applejack felt herself almost fall over. It wasn't like him to be sarcastic... Was it? Tick. Tock. “...Well, since you asked, Ah-Ah had a moment o'weakness, that's all. You were rantin' and ravin'...Mel wuz darn near martyrin' himself, an' it wuz all jus'...uncomfortable fer me. Ah jus' hadta git outta there.” Tick. Ba-dum, ba-dum. Tock. “Look, Ah cain't be a hardy cowpony all th' damn time, okay?!” “...Nnope.” “An' jus' whut does that mean?!” “It means no.” Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum. Tick. “...Oh, horseapples. Ah...Ah reckon Ah hated it so much 'cuz...because...” “Take yer time,” said Applejack. Tock. Sigh. Tick. Tock. “...Ah hated it 'cuz Ah didn't...wanna believe that silly pony really had it that bad.” Tick. Cough. Tock. “Ah had never seen a pony in Ponyville that didn't have a reason t'smile. Not one. An' when Ah saw Mel smilin' even though he couldn't buck a single tree...it proved t'me there's always a reason t'be happy. So Ah wuz happy.” Tick. Tock. “But then he showed me who he really wuz...he showed me a pony that...that couldn't smile if'n he tried. Ah...Ah reckon Ah didn't believe in that, not really. Ah didn't believe he wuz really, truly serious; maybe it wuz 'cuz he kept smilin' afterward. But he wuz hurtin', so Ah took pity on him. Not t'mention Ah felt...um...Ah guess Ah jus' went along with him as everythin' happened, Ah dunno. It all happened so fast...” Tick. Tock. Clop, clop. “Seein' him so hard set t'shoe himself...it scared me 'cuz it made me doubt mahself somethin' fierce. Maybe he really didn't have any other choice, it's hard t'say...” Oh, good gravy. “Big Macintosh...that's a right shame, that is. Ah'm sorry you hadta shoulder so much. But there are two things Ah got t'say t'that.” Tick. Ba-dum, ba-dum. Tock. Ba-dum. “One, you coulda told me this, an' Ah woulda reminded you o' how our lives were never jus' sunshine an' gumdrops handed t'us. We hadta work fer what we had, and still do t'this day. An' you know as well as anypony that someponies jus' gotta work harder than others. Caramel's one o'those that's gotta work th' hardest.” “...E-Eeyup.” Tick. “An' puttin' aside th' fact that Ah woulda helped you if'n you told me you were confused or losin' faith...th' other thing Ah wanna say is codswallop, big brother.” “Whut?” Ba-dum, ba-dum, tock. “Ah accept you were strugglin' with yer feelin's. But those feelin's ain't th' kind o' feelin's t'make you bellow at t'top o' yer lungs like yer some stud tryin' t'keep his mare in check. Ah asked you t'tell me th' truth, but yer still hidin' it!” Ba-dum, tick. Ba-dum, tock. “Ah. Ain't. Hidin'. Nothin'!” Tock, tick. Ba-dum... Applejack patted her chest. “If'n yer not hidin' somethin' still, then you gotsta prove t'me yer not crazy.” Oh mercy, did Ah really jus' say that? Ba-dum, ba-dum, tick, tock. That look on his face...Ah did really jus' said that. Oh pony. “Ah told you th' truth, little sis o' mine. Ah ain't crazy! Ah wuz jus' thinkin'...maybe he really didn't have any hope, maybe he really wuz born cursed, but that just...that jus' makes me so angry 'cuz Ah woulda helped him in a heartbeat if'n he came t'me. That silly pony wouldn't take any help, so he jus' let me make a fool outta mahself by experimentin' when he KNEW FULL WELL it wuz pointless! Oh, he jus' let me believe it wuz goin' somewhere, Ah bet that's whut it wuz.” Applejack placed a hoof on her brother's shoulder. It was incredibly tense. She made an effort to soothe him, but he batted her away. “...Stupid colt needed help an' he jus' stowed away in our barn. Did he really think that wuz okay?! He wuz ready t'get blown away in th' cataclysm with that attitude! An' NOW he's shovin' nails in his bare hooves without painkillers 'cuz he's...too scared t'admit he's helpless.” Tick, ba-dum, ba-dum. Tock, ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum. “He's so damn helpless, yet he tries t'make things right without a damn idea in his head. He's so damn proud, Ah bet...Ah bet he only really wanted t'do this without meds 'cuz he felt guilty 'bout stayin' with us, even though he MORE than made it up to us. He jus' smiles an' jokes an' makes like everythin' is okay even though he's dyin' inside 'cuz he thought he could overcome anythin' but he's powerless fer th' first time an' he *cough* hates it so much even though he thought *hack* he could deal with it but he cain't.” Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum. Applejack couldn't do anything but listen as her big brother was breaking apart. It was like watching a train full of ponies at top speed fall over onto its side, taking out the buffalo with it. Tick. “But *wheeze* he cain't feel powerless at a time like this 'cuz *cough* there's so much t'be done like he needs to stop lyin' t'himself *COUGH* an' jus' admit he's a good pony even though he's got all these issues he's hidin' like he's angry all the time an' he tries t'smooth over horrible things an' he doesn't understand how he can like stallions 'an it's...it's...” Tock. HorseshoesA/N: This chapter does have the unusual shoeing scene in it. I believe it reads more like a painful surgery than gore, so I stand by the Teen rating. But if you disagree, let me know. And if you're not comfortable with content of this nature, then you should probably either skip this chapter or skip down to the other three dashes and read from there. Celestia flashed in Caramel's mind again. She was even more radiant than before, smiling so brightly that the skies burst into flame. Bright, white-hot flames eating the sky voraciously...Eating them for all they were worth, every single brushstroke of blue. Every. Single. One. “And that's the third one!” “Mmmmfgh!” Caramel stopped biting down on the tough fabric. It was horribly dented and slick from the two dozen times he almost swallowed it. But mostly he was just bearing the last wave of shock rushing through his core, searing the left side of his muzzle down to his hips. He was told he wouldn't pass out with how they were doing it, but he did welcome the possibility. Even though it didn't matter, he appreciated how the door outside was soundproofed. If he ever caved and said something ugly, who knew whether his friends would hear it from the lobby without the spell? He didn't want to worry them. Dr. Cardio cast a blue glow over his newly shod hoof, the spell humming so ignorantly. “The nails set perfectly. I...I know it's a horrible thing to say, but I am glad we got you to decide against the painkiller. You'll be out of here in a few minutes, I promise.” “Please...don't tell me when it'll be over,” objected Caramel as the strap on his new shoe was removed. “I am not going to start counting seconds.” The assistant took Caramel's hoof just like the others, carefully cutting nail by nail by the top of the horseshoe. The masterfully made secateurs glided through the offending metal like it was butter. He expected no less, but it was by far his favorite part of the process...it was like getting a pat on the back. That was until the doctor cast another spell to weld the tips of the piercing nails to the shoes themselves. As quickly as it was done, it still made him feel like he was being held over a furnace. The white-hot sun blazed merrily near his leg! “B-but yeah...I just had a moment of weakness, that's all.” The assistant dunked his hoof in a bucket of water. It was probably just room temperature water from some reservoir, but it felt like a dip in the springs of Paradise. He felt very sweaty. “When you said 'absolutely sure', I thought of all those ponies I helped to make sure of their lives...if that made sense, it probably didn't, whatever. And I thought...you know? I should take my own advice. I should make sure of my own life, take it seriously. I can't just take a chance and hope it works out, I've done that too often. Is it hot in here?” “Yes,” responded the other two. “Okay, it's not just me, then.” Caramel felt a sweaty, bare hoof laid delicately on his withers. He supposed the doctor was trying to comfort him, but it just felt weird. Oh, well. “Do you want to take a break?” The sweaty pony furiously debated himself. He wanted out of these damn restraints, and yet he wanted to be able to remember his name by the end of it. It seemed like he was going to be completely worn out no matter how he went about it. So... “Oh, let's just do the last one and get me out of here.” The assistant sighed. Caramel felt the thick cloth strap squeeze his leg and hug the egg bar shoe to his final hoof. The metal was so cold...that wasn't going to last. “You ready?”, asked Dr. Cardio. Caramel took a deep breath. So did the assistant. “Fillies and gentlecolts, we are gathered here today to witness the union of Caramel and the welcome mat,” he said as he bit down on his bride. The doctor tilted his head. “Shock can be very disorienting. Do you really want to keep going right now?” Caramel released the cloth and looked the doctor straight in the eyes. “Ah do.” “Caramel...,” growled the assistant. “I'm ready,” he responded, biting down again. No, I'm not. But I want this to end. I'll just...distract myself. Yeah. The first nail went toward the top of his left hind hoof, pricking his callous and delicately making its way forward. This part's not so bad. It's just the damn hammering. Hammer...hummer, hungry, hundred, humdinger, humiliation, him, hymn, hinderance, hickory, dickory, dock! Tock. NOT GOOD ENOUGH. Okay, something more substantial...um...well, Doc said how this was an unusual way to shoe a pony. Or a horse, I guess. I suppose they would drive the nails in the wall...or nail, whatever, and then have them poke out on another side of it. Tock. BUT THEN IF THEY DID THAT...if they did that for me, it would just...wait, why aren't they doing that? It would certainly hold the nails in. I think it would, anyway. They're made for piercing, not shoeing, so...hmm. They...he said the nails are setting perfectly, so I guess-- Tock. IT WORKS OUT ANYWAY OH FUCK IT HURTS. There's that psychic bathwater again, wheee. Getting nice and clean, pain washing my sins awaaaaaaaaay...oh. Oooooooh, maybe they aren't driving them out to there because-- Tock. AAAAAAAAAAAUGH...because...because...oh crud, I forgot. Something about bathing. Th-this isn't working, I need something different. Tock. Heeeere cooomes the briiiiiiide. Sheeeee's faaaaat and wiiiiiide. Noooooopony knooooooooows how the giiiiiiiiirl got insiiiiiiiiiiiiiide... Tock. OH THANK CELESTIA THAT'S THE LAST DRIVE. Phew...just seven more to go...hahahahaha... How did my life get to this? I don't deserve this. I may not be the nicest pony, but I don't deserve this. But I need it...oh, hello, Mr. Nail. You're friendly, aren't you? I have a boyfriend like you, he's an apple. Tock. YOU'RE THE WORST FRIEND EVER. Six nails later... ...and it's just so damn inconsiderate of me! I don't know if he wants foals or not, I don't know if he wants to get married, I don't even know if he wants me living with him! He just invited me to his home – probably out of pity – and I started taking advantage of him! Tock. CELESTIA, QUIT BOTHERING ME! I'm in a lot of pain right now! Ooooh, hells below, I want to move. But if I move, I'll throw up. Anyway, I promised myself I would make it up to him. Once this is done, I'll make it up to him. Tock. Wait, I helped renovate Sweet Apple Acres. I have made it up to him! It's so...wait. That was for the hospitality all four of them gave me. I still dragged Mac through the dirt because I was so worthless. I should have just asked him out on a date and not thrown myself at him, sheesh. Tock. Oooooh, but then I would be all anxious because “what if he doesn't like me baaaaaaaack?! What if the whole town freaks out because gay things are weeeeeeird?!” Shove it, Caramel! Sometimes you just have to swallow your fear and go for it! That's it! When this is done, I'll ask him out on a date! Tock. This is ridiculous. I'm going crazy without even trying. Tock. Daddy, it hurts. Tock. “Alright, you're in the home stretch!”, exclaimed Dr. Cardio. “Just the last one and that sweet painkiller is yours!” Caramel weakly let go of the biting cloth to speak. “...C-Can I get some water first?” “O-Oh, absolutely,” blustered the doctor. He quickly poured some water from a jug into a small blue cup and levitated it to the punctured pony. Caramel greedily drank every ounce it had. “Don't just leave the boy hanging like that,” the assistant chided. Huh...come to think of it, the assistant looks like Big Macintosh. Small world! Vaguely, Caramel heard the doctor mumble something about free services. I'm so hungry... “...Ow.” The doctor looked like he was about to hug him. “You've been a champ for all this, Caramel. If there were a prize for best patient, you would have about five of them.” “...N-No...th-the nails...” Caramel bit down on the cloth again. He bit for all he was worth. All he noticed was the blazing inferno the fourth set of nails were leaving behind them as they started to defect. “Oh Celestia, they're being rejected,” the doctor panicked. “This isn't good, this isn't...q-quick, we need that last nail in there!” “WHAT?!”, bellowed the assistant. “JUST DO IT! YOU HAVE NO REASON TO DOUBT ME!” Princess Celestia...was that you in my dream? Were you shouting at me about Paradise? Because you're very loud...so very loud. Painkiller, painkiller, good... I can't do this I can't it hurts I'm hopeless WHY IS THIS HAPPENING GODS OF PARADISE SAVE MY SOUL I COMMIT MYSELF IN YOUR CARE JUST PLEASE MAKE IT STOP! TOCK. “Listen here, boy.” TOCK. “I think I get it. You're rejecting them yourself.” WHAT?! JUST SHOE ME IF YOU'RE GOING TO SHOE ME, STOP TALKING STOP IT STOP IT PLEASE STOP IT IT'S WRONG IT FEELS SO WRONG JUST QUIT IT! TOCK. “You need to believe in this! Everything will be fine, you need to believe me!” TOCK. “I-I CAN'T DO IT, JUST STOP PLEASE!” “IT'S TOO LATE! DON'T YOU DARE GIVE UP, YOU'RE SO CLOSE! NOW JUST HOLD ON A LITTLE LONGER, I KNOW YOU CAN DO IT!” Tock, Tock, Tock, Tock, Tock, Tock, Tock. He's right I'm so close BUT IT HURTS BUT I'M ALMOST THERE OH CELESTIA I CAN'T...I can't...wait a minute. It's fading...yes, it's fading. It's not hurting anymore. The nails are still now after what he said, that must be it, this is something I have to believe in. This is so much better, it feels strong, it's...it's just like... TOCK. Oh great skies above. This is...this is meant to be. This is who I am. TOCK. The operating room fell silent. Caramel's eyes were swimming. The only activity left was the assistant cutting the nails as steadily as he could, then the welding, then the cooling. It was done. I did it. I'm a horse. I...I'm free, free for the rest of my life! If it weren't for these restraints, I would dance. “My sides are all tingly...hehehehehe...” Dr. Cardio turned his head from the counter and froze. He looked like Princess Celestia had just told all of Equestria that cake was a breed of dog. “Oh, this is going to keep me up for weeks.” “...So it jus' doesn't make sense t'me, sis! Ah mean, look at me: do Ah look like a mare?” “...Wait, whut? Whut would that matter?” Big Macintosh suppressed a groan. It was so humiliating and confusing to explain, even to his own sister...who seemed remarkably flippant. “Mah point is that Ah'm not built fer this kinda thing! An'...well, Ah don' suppose a colt could be built for it! An' why would one be, when all ponies are meant fer makin' families in that way? Ah...that didn't make sense, whatever. Whut Ah'm tryin' t'say--” “Big Mac, be quiet.” Instantly, he felt his throat refusing to obey him. “Ah think Ah git whut yer sayin' here.” He snorted. At least one of us does. “Ah think yer sayin' yer scared 'bout bein' in love with Caramel, 'cuz that could mean you wouldn't have a family t'care for when th' time's right. Now before you say anythin' else, Ah also think yer sayin' yer frustrated how yer in a nonconventional relationship not havin' a strong say in things like this doctor's visit.” His throat obeyed him, but he had no words. “An' whut Ah hafta say 'bout that is Ah don' see any reason why th' two o' you cain't see eye t'eye on issues. Whut yer doin' is different an' new, that's true. But from whut Ah've seen in all kinds o' couples, th' most important thing is trust. Jus' trust Caramel, he'll trust you, an' both o' you can iron out th' details together.” Mac blinked. Applejack seemed to attain a certain glow about her. She might as well have been his older sibling. “...You got all that from me blatherin' 'bout how big Ah am?” AJ just started laughing. The lobby was filled with her peals of mirth, bouncing off the walls...like he was awash in a warm sea. “W-well, haha, you blathered 'bout much more than that, you big goofball. But no, Ah got all that from bein' yer sister all mah life.” He was cast in a great sea of warmth, drinking from its tideless waters. He felt...he felt more complete. That smile of hers just made him want for nothing. Like Caramel's smile did... “Granted, you don' talk much,” she added, “but Ah picked up a few things here an' there. Ah should say this though.” The sea became a little harsher. Tick. Tock. “If'n you've been hidin' stuff like this from me fer such a long time, Ah reckon Ah won't put up with it! You hid stuff from me an' Ah found it before...an' you were better for it. So Ah need you t'trust me, y'hear?” “E-Eeyup.” “Ah wouldn't mind you keepin' t'yerself if'n it were somethin' mundane.” “Eeyup.” “...But this jus' ain't th' same thing.” “Eeyup, Ah got it.” Applejack kept her gaze on him...but he was finally released. “Ah'll hold you to that, Macintosh.” Tick. Tock. Big Mac slumped to the ground. Again. “...Applebloom wuz so cute when she wuz a foal. Ah wanted one jus' like her.” His sister giggled. “...Heck, Ah still do. Though she's become a right troublemaker.” Applejack sighed. Tick. Ba-dum. Tock. “Oh, o' course she did, big brother. We're a family o' troublemakers, even further than Granny!” Mac felt his hair stand on end as she cupped his muzzle in her bare hoof. “Yer jus' a late bloomer.” He had to snicker. There was nothing late about his development...or so he thought. Suddenly, the door flew open, and Caramel began staggering out from it. “THERE YOU ARE...you two. My friendssssssssss. It's good to see you!” Applejack quickly jerked her hoof away from him. Tick. Tock. “Ohhhh-ho-ho-ho-ho. I get it. It's the staring contest, yeah, yeah! I thought it was last week! Just you wait; I've got a secret strategy.” The dizzy pony's voice lowered to a whisper: “It involves throwing things...!” Dr. Cardio came behind Caramel, looking more disheveled than before. Just what was happening? “Caramel, please be careful. It's true you can walk, but you just had--” “WHY IS HE GOIN' 'ROUND LIKE THAT?!”, roared Macintosh. “WHUT TH' HELLS DID YOU DO?!” “AN' WHUT IN TARNATION HAPPENED T'HIS CUTIE MARK?!”, roared Applejack. “WHUT NOW?!” Big Mac stood up with his sister immediately looked to Caramel's flanks. His cutie mark...had a fourth shoe. It was a completely rounded shoe encircling the other three, which were pointed in different directions than before. It was one straight up, one down-left, one down-right. The fourth shoe was red. “...Jus' whut kinda joke is this? Huh? Is this a joke, Doc? 'CUZ T'AIN'T FUNNY!” “Just calm down.” “AH'LL CALM DOWN WHEN...” Big Macintosh calmed down. “Hehehehe...,” drolled the newly-marked pony. “Shouting is fun. It's like singing, except someone wins. Wait, singing is like that sometimes, too. OOOOH I JUST GOT THE GREATEST IDEA! SHOUT-SINGING! I'll make the prototype!” “You will do no such thing,” interrupted the doctor. Caramel stopped in mid-pose, pouted, and dramatically flopped to the ground. “...He reacted more strongly to the painkiller than I expected. He's fine, and I'm pleased to say the operation was successful, but he'll be out of it for a while. As for the cutie mark...your guess is as good as mine for now.” Big Mac was suddenly overwhelmed by the sight of Caramel. There he was, safe and sound...his hooves shining in the flourescent lights. It took all his strength not to tackle him onto the floor and do something not appropriate for a doctor's office. ...Wait. “...Explain t'me how he's able t'walk so soon after that. An' don' tell me it's th' painkiller, or Ah will sue you so fast--” “Th-there's no need for that!”, the doctor countered nervously. “You see, once the nails were set, his body had fully accepted the shoes. I checked it several times, but both his body and the nails developed a relationship of malleability with each other.” Tick. Tock. “...Whut?”, asked the Apples. “The metal part of him is compromising with the nonmetal part of him. To put it simply, the shoes and nails really are part of his hooves now. He can move and bend, and the metal will bend with him as one unit.” Tick. Tock. “...Whut?”, asked the Apples again. “...Just look at him,” answered Dr. Cardio. “He would only be able to do that by what I said.” Caramel was wiggling his front legs like wet noodles. The only reason Macintosh knew that was because of the wet noodles placed in front of him that one time. And now, if he ever saw wet noodles again, he would have to vomit a little in his mouth. He hadn't even considered how shoeing bare hooves might restrict movement, but that... “...That's just horrifyin'” “HEY!”, shouted Caramel far too loudly. “WATCH YOUR MOUTH, YOUNG COLT! There are ladies present, in case you haven't noticed...?” “...Whut?” ...Oh. “Don' be a child, Mel.” “Oh, but a child is an adult without burden, so you want me to not be an adult by proxy, THEREFORE, you don't want me to BE at ALL! How about YOU stop being a child, Mac? See how that works for you!” Sweet Celestia, give me strength. Ah love this pony, Ah shouldn't wanta clobber him. “H-How long does the painkiller last?”, asked Applejack. “Oh, about an hour,” replied the doctor. “It's not good for chronic pains, but it works wonders for surgeries. Usually...” “...An' when did he take it?” The doctor blanched. Not that it was hard for him to do. “...I'd say five minutes ago.” “I...”, began Caramel, “feel powerful. I feel like everything that was wrong about the world was just SMASHED when these babies jumped on my hooves! I'm strong!” Without prompt, the shod pony reared up on his hind legs and slammed his front legs on the tiled floor. He managed to split the offended tiles in halves and quarters, but those surrounding it remained whole. "...Did I just do that?" Applejack and the doctor nodded nervously. "Eeyup." "That's okay," Caramel offered. "I have a pile of gold candy at home, that should pay for it. It's kind of stale, though, I hope that's okay." That does it. Ah am never takin' him out drinkin'. Ever. That was when Caramel flopped to the floor. That was when Big Macintosh felt his heart fall with him. “...I'm alive. I just tortured my body, and I came out better than before. I was right. I WAS RIGHT, BABE! I WAS SO SCARED I WAS WRONG, BUT I WAS RIGHT!” ...Oh, screw it. Mac pulled Mel to him, pressing his lips against those he had missed far more than he thought. The sweet, powerful warmth made him shut his eyes completely, every inch of his middle reveling in the gift given to himself. Mel returned the decadent pressure like he did so many times before... ...And then pulled away to lightly bop Mac on the muzzle. The metal bruised him a little. “You're such a big pony. Awfully big for a McIntosh, certainly. I wonder if you were smaller, would you be Little Macintosh? Or maybe Standard Macintosh? You're just so Macintosh-y!” Ah guess Ah cain't have nice things. “U-Um, big brother, we need t'go an' git Caramel home,” interrupted Applejack. “Ah think we can git th' answers we need by mail...?” The doctor nodded ecstatically. “O-Oh wait,” Dr. Cardio added. “I can actually make that easier for you, if you're in a hurry...” He glanced to the right. The other three, oddly enough, all looked straight at him for a response. “I can actually teleport you to just outside Ponyville. But you'll need to all stand together, and look straight at me. It's a demanding spell.” “...I wonder which house I should buy...?” Big Macintosh took Caramel's head and made it face the doctor. “Okay. Here goes...!” The doctor's horn blazed in a blue flame, which sprouted forward to envelop the three hapless ponies. Mac's vision filled with the harsh light...then he felt lighter...and then he was gone. The doctor sighed and flopped to the floor. “Thanks for your help, Miss Sparkle.” The fern in the corner had been replaced with a purple unicorn with a smile meant to comfort others. The blinding spell had kept that hidden well enough, thank goodness. “Not at all,” Twilight answered. “I'm glad you decided to send them home this way, actually. It'll make for--” “--Less public reactions, yes. Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt.” “...Anyway. It's time for you to fulfill your royal duty.” Cardio frowned. It seemed so invasive...but he had no choice. “Follow me...my results are still in that operating room. I'll just make some copies.” Keen to put the matter behind him, he stuffed the stack of papers into an envelope. Twilight then transported it, presumably to her own place of study. “Thank you, sir. And I promise this is the last you will hear from me,” she offered. With a flash, the troublesome pony vanished. “...Is she gone?” Cardio spied his temporary assistant from behind the doctor's table. It was impressive the big lug managed to hide back there. “You're fine, Mac.” Mac stood up and yawned. “Good. I didn't want to have to deal with her.” “Oh, please,” Cardio chided. “You did a great thing here today. I have to thank you again, I couldn't have done this without your help.” Mac shrugged. “I'm a professional.” Tick. Tock. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. “Well, I should get going,” said Mac as he exited the operating room. Cardio didn't hear the door close, too engrossed in the original data sheets. “It was nice to see you again...I guess.” ChangesCaramel was swimming. His body was suspended on pure energy, coiling and tightening in his legs. All he had to do was jerk his left hind hoof to get a jolt of ecstacy racing through him, making him tremble as it clashed with the muted sorrow still beating with his heart. One jolt after another, and the sorrow became that much weaker...until it was barely there at all. He was free. He was out of that harsh office and back home. And he was strong. Caramel blinked. When his eyes took in the outskirts of Ponyville again, it all seemed softer, warmer, more welcoming. The skies were a little bluer, the grass was a little taller, and the yellow-hot sun blazed merrily above him. It was enough to make him break into song. Maybe he would take up singing, now? He certainly wouldn't ruin the electronic equipment now! In fact, he was curious as to why the good doctor didn't want to hear his impromptu rendition...perhaps Dr. Cardio was more of the opera type. …Realizing just where he was, he rolled off of the wonderful Big Macintosh and hard-working Applejack. “I'm terribly sorry about that,” he intoned diplomatically. “You just have to understand, this is incredibly strange and wonderful for me. I can hardly interpret what occurs around me sometimes!” His dear friends looked to each other. They were probably glad to be back home. “...Eeyup, it's good we got you back here,” confirmed Applejack as she looked back to him. “Oh, isn't that a nice reversal!”, commented Caramel. “You mimicked your brother's vernacular! That's a sweet little reference, kudos! You seem more like him just for saying it.” Was he jumping? It felt like he was trying to fly. Well, the sky was the limit on that account! Literally! But the handsome Big Macintosh caught him in mid-air by his mane. That was an odd way to catch a pony, but he supposed it worked well enough. He needed to wash his hair. Mac then tossed him onto a big, red pony's back. From where did that come? The world was full of mysteries... “Mel, Ah'm thinkin' you could use a nap,” the delicious stallion grunted from somewhere around him. A nap? That was a preposterous idea! He felt great! He felt like running up and down the Canterlot mountains! He felt like throwing a thousand horseshoes, catapulting into the great frontier, stomping his hooves into the mighty earth to...make it...tremble...Mac's hair was so soft, so warm... Caramel was swimming. Big Macintosh turned off the water and submerged the sleeping Caramel. After a couple of hours of not talking crazy in the bed, it became clear the sheets needed to be washed from the sweaty pony's...well, sweat. So he decided to give him a bath while they hung out to dry. The dry summer wind blew quietly into the bathroom from the open window, rustling his mane a little. He felt itchy...he decided to sit next to his shod stallion in the tub, relishing the hot water from hoof to shoulder. “We shoulda done this before...heh heh. It's jus' too bad yer in dreamland.” He soaked a simple brush in the bathwater and in liquid soap to scrub behind Mel's ears. He always liked how the cute little things poked out defiantly next to that big, parted mane. Of course, that brown mane was heavy with water now, clinging to the colt's face and neck in long strands...hugging his little ears, covering his sweetheart eyes, letting the odd droplets fall down his cheeks...he really should have done this before. Showering just wasn't the same; sitting right there in the calm water, massaging the dirt off Mel's hide fur as Mel just kept breathing deeply, in and out, his chest rising and falling... Mel snorted. Mac giggled and kissed his now clean forehead, nuzzling the wet hair a little. The silly pony fell asleep right there on his back; it was the cutest thing. Those shod hooves seemed to want to bounce off of his hide, though. The metal had given him a few bruises to nurse, but at least this was a good time to do so. It would be interesting to teach the pony to handle those shoes correctly, that was for sure. The metal was cool to the touch, too...maybe that would be useful for something. Ahem. Mac picked up Mel's front right leg and started scrubbing it. His own hoof could vaguely feel the nails embedded in the flesh. Knowing full well he would regret it, he twisted the leg into waves and circles: the nails indeed seemed to twist with the rest of the leg. It was enlightening, in a sickening way, to see how flexible a pony's legs were when they seemed like they should be stiff. This pony seemed to defy reason every chance he got. “...Babe, whut am Ah gonna do with you?” He bent over slightly to scrub the pony's back. Mel keep breathing, in and out. “T'ain't over 'cuz you got shod, even if'n you think that. Ponies are gonna stare at you, you gotta watch t'see you don' hurt others, an' maybe stuff Ah cain't even think of. Ah jus' hope you weren't blowin' hot air when you said you can take it, Ah really do.” The summer day blew some hot air into the bathroom. Mac realized he should have shut the window, but he was too busy being wet. He opted to gently rub the dirt off Mel's shoes instead, closing his eyes to keep from looking at them. “...Maybe if'n they see you buckin' trees, they'll git used t'it. That's more or less how they got used t'me, so it's worth a shot. Hmm...eeyup. Ah like that. You like that?” Mel just keep breathing. “Good. That's settled, then.” “...Wha? What's settled?” Macintosh opened his eyes: Mel was using his free hoof to push the hair away from his face. When he was done, those sweet baby blues showed themselves from half-lidded eyes. Damn, his boyfriend was a pretty pony. “It can wait 'till later,” answered Mac, still scrubbing the other leg. “How're you feelin'?” “I...” Mel stopped as he observed the free hoof. Mac watched him slowly turn it back and forth, sunlight gleaming from the metal each time. He knew the little horse was completely entranced. His boyfriend was a horse...Celestia, help him. With a smile, Mac stopped scrubbing the leg to put a hoof of his own against the shining shoe. It felt much warmer than before. “...Heh heh,” Caramel said with a groggy smile. “Good morning. I see it's bathtime.” Mac wasn't sure whether to giggle or cringe. Just what did that medicine do to him? “...Afternoon.” Mel blinked. Then he shook his head quickly, rippling the bathwater. “Afternoon? What happened?! What time is it, and why--” Mac kissed him. “We got back from th' office a while ago,” he explained. “You were whacked out on that painkiller, so Ah laid you down fer a nap. It's...um...'bout four o' clock now, Ah think?” He turned his head to the old clock in the bathroom, straining to see the minute indicator. “...Eeyup, 'bout four o'clock.” He turned back to Mel, who seemed concerned for some reason. “Babe, are you nearsighted?” Mac blinked. He blinked again: that fuzziness was always there, but it was glaring to him now. Was he nearsighted? Why was he doubting himself just because Mel asked him? “...Maybe, Ah dunno.” Mel blinked. “Huh. Anyway, you said I was on a painkiller?” “Eeyup,” said Mac, stifling a shudder. “...'Zat why I feel like my muscles were replaced with mud?” “Eeyup.” Ah suppose they would, wouldn't they? ...Wait. “...So, you don' remember anythin' 'bout that visit?” He watched Mel scrunch his cute, wet face in thought. It was like watching a puppy tilt its head in confusion, except this puppy had some serious brains when he wanted them. “I remember going in to get shod—I remember being in so much pain I wanted to chew my own legs off—and then there was a mishap, and the rest is just blank, I'm sorry.” Blood rushed to Mac's ears. That was the last thing he wanted to hear. “M-Mishap, you say?” Mac hated how Mel looked so small then. “I...I don't know, I really am sorry.” When're you ever gonna be happy...? You got nothin' t'apologize for, don' beat yerself up. “No need t'be sorry,” offered Mac with a comforting hoof. “We'll have a talk with yer doctor once things calm down.” We'll sit down an' have a nice chat... The bathwater was starting to get tepid. Mac found himself squirming in the tub, trying to warm up what the dry air outside couldn't reach. “...It's weird,” Mel began with a shaky voice. “I feel really strong, but I feel really weak, too. I didn't think that was possible.” Mac pulled his boyfriend into a soothing kiss...but the soothing was mostly for him. It seemed he would never get off this roller coaster. But if that was what being with Caramel meant, then he would just have to get used to roller coasters. If he were going to spend the rest of his life with a stallion...Mac needed to get used to several things. “Yer jus' tired, an' no surprise. But since you mention it, we should git you gettin' used t'yer shoes, 'specially since...well, Ah wuz thinkin'--” “--That with horseshoes as my special talent, it gives me strength that a normal horse wouldn't have?”, finished Caramel. “Eeyup.” “Yeah, I've been thinking that for a while now.” “...An' fer Pete's sake, call 'em shoes.” “Only if you can tell me who Pete is,” said Caramel with raised eyebrows. “Pete's...Pete is...” Mac felt his mind fold in on itself. “...Ah have no idea. Jus' whut does that mean, anyway?” “I wouldn't know, babe. But I do know one thing...”, Mel crooned, carefully placing a hoof on Mac's thick neck. As soon as the metal touched his hide, Mac spied the red bar shoe mark gleaming from beneath the bathwater. The one shoe holding the others together...He thought of his own, an apple core for an Apple to the Core. His cutie mark made sense. But this... “An' whut's that, Mel?” He couldn't keep his eyes off the new cutie mark; it split and wavered as both or either of them shifted the water. It seemed appropriate. “I have a very special pony in the bathtub with me. And he's nice and wet.” Mac felt the water lapping near his shoulders. It was too high, too lukewarm, and more pressing matters were at hoof. “Ah'd love to...but Ah need you t'do me a favor first.” Of course, Mel looked confused. “Uh...okay. I don't really get this game, but I'll play along,” the silly pony offered with that smile from the field. “Look down t'yer flanks.” “Ooooh, I see now." Caramel smile became even more devious. "A little self-exposure, right here in the...” The summer wind stood still. “What's that?” Mac sighed. It was all he could do. “...It's yer cutie mark.” “No, it's not,” Mel countered a little too quickly. “This isn't my cutie mark. It can't be.” Suddenly, Mac felt his stadium grin taking over his face, even as he registered Mel's distress. “Cain't it be?” Why did Ah jus' do that? Mel looked even more bewildered than before...but then inexplicably burst into laughter. “Oh, very cute!”, cackled the wet pony. “I guess you got some trick from Pinkie Pie and just put it on me while I slept. You jokester, you!” Mac took a hard look at his reflection in the water. Maybe what Applejack said about being overprotective had its merit. Mel's reflection swam next to his, slowly but certainly falling to that face of pure dread he never wanted to see...the face he tried so hard to prevent. But in the split second before looking up, he mused on how that face was a part of Caramel he just couldn't avoid. Grinning was for the dancing devils. “Mac...you remember how I would smile whenever I was upset? I-I just can't seem to--” “Caramel, Ah need you t'listen t'me,” he interrupted with a hoof to Mel's lips. “Yer...yer goin' through somethin' mighty strange, we both know it. Yer jus'...special, an' that's jus' fine. Ah need you t'know we're all on yer side no matter whut changes. 'Kay?” Mac made himself look into Mel's quivering eyes. They had just reached the lowest point of the roller coaster, and it was time to start climbing back to the top. Mel nodded without a word. “Good. Doctor Card or whutsit should have answers fer us eventually. 'Til then...jus'--” “Be strong,” Caramel finished. “Yeah...I can do it.” Mac rewarded the tired pony with a nuzzle on the muzzle. They both gave tired smiles as they gazed upon Mel's partially submerged hoof, the blue shoe glinting in the golden light. “A-After all...”, continued Mel without prompt, “I have some new shoes to play with!” “HEAR YE, GOYIM OF PONYVILLE! HEAR YE FOR THY SALVATION IN THIS TROUBLED TIME! THE GREAT FLOOD SHALL RETURN; REPENT OR YE SHALL BE SWEPT AWAY!” “Goyeem? What's a goyeem?” Ponies were gathered around the seven bearded travelers in the town square. Nopony knew where they came from; they just set up a little blockade that didn't actually blockade anything. When one of them tried to block a pony from getting by, the offended pony would just move out or range and go around the tiny group. But as the crowd grew, the presumed leader of the seven shouted even louder. “KNOW THY SALVATION IS NIGH BUT FOR A SIMPLE ADMISSION!”, bellowed the grey, middle-aged stallion. “SURRENDER THINE NOTIONS OF PARADISE, AND THE WATERS WILL RECEDE! HEAR US NOW! HEAR US NOW!” “'Notions of paradise'? The hells does he mean?” “This is some new cult, isn't it? The tourists are bad enough!” “GO HOME, YOU STINKY PONIES!...OR TAKE A SHOWER, ONE OR THE OTHER!” One of the seven stopped to smell his cloak and pouted. It was at that time Caramel, Big Macintosh, and Applebloom wandered into the square to see what the to-do was. It was slightly jarring to see the teeming mob of color against the seven drab heralds. The only colors in the center of it all were grey, black, brown, and a hint of green from shredded grass. The crowd was gossiping throughout the leader's rant. Caramel decided to investigate. “Hey, Junebug?” He gestured to her. “What's going on here?” “No clue,” she answered with an eye roll. “They showed up here about an hour ago, pulling different ponies aside. Now they're trying to rile us all up. Oh, I like your hair!” “Thanks, it's just a whim I had,” said Caramel as he vainly tossed his head. He decided to keep the wet look, since Macintosh kept playing with it the other day. Even if it got old, it was a nice change to go against the other changes. “Oh...a whim, huh?”, teased the flower mare. “Yeah. I had a whim like that when Ace said he liked brunettes. I know all about that kind of whim,” she finished with an obvious wink. Mel blushed as he looked to Mac: the dirty blonde seemed intent to ignore Junebug. “Hey, Big Mac,” Junebug said with her usual smile. “Crazy day, huh?” “E-Eeyup.” What's with that stutter? Why would-- “GATHER 'ROUND, GOYIM OF PONYVILLE! HEAR THE DILUVIANS' STORY OF THE GREAT FLOOD, AND TREMBLE AS IT BEGINS ANEW AT THINE HOOVES!” “Whut's this 'bout some great flood?”, asked Applebloom. Junebug shrugged. “Maybe they mean the Paradise Falls story?” “GOOD QUESTION, YOUNG MARE!”, exclaimed the leader of the Diluvians. “BUT...But I believe thou shall find this version much more interesting...” The crowd steadily quieted to nothing but dull whispers. “Back before the Alicorns, before the Draconequuii, when Ponies were just learning to speak--” “--and the Law of the Forest was the Law of the Land,” finished the crowd. “THIS HAD BETTER NOT BE THE SAME STORY!”, shouted Applebloom. “OW!” Big Macintosh had thumped her on the head. Caramel couldn't help feeling sorry for her. “...Anyway,” continued the leader, “back in those days, there was no Paradise. There were only the elements themselves, and the world was at war with itself.” The crowd began to murmur. Caramel believed it sounded mostly dubious. “No mission to find the Sun ever happened; the great races of the world never converged on a mountain made of sky and marble; and the six Hells were never extinguished by the Waters of All Directions. Oh, but there was a Flood. And that Flood came from one of the Hells itself...the Hell of Peace.” “...WHAT?!”, cried the crowd. “That makes no sense! The Hell of Peace?! You just renamed one of them to make your story work! And you didn't even do it right!” “YOU BIG FAKER!”, yelled Applebloom. “Stop doin' that, Big Brother!” “LISTEN TO ME! IT MAKES SENSE IF YOU—IF THOU LISTEN!” The crowd became still again. “The Hell of Peace,” began the leader, “is the dungeon of all well-meaning foolishness. Never you mind the Hell of Chaos: that is just what such foolishness would have you believe. No, Chaos is born from all six hells together, and each one has a contribution...with the Hell of Peace giving its ignorant mistakes, its miscommunications, its white lies all MAGNIFIED upon each other!” The crowd barely stirred. Caramel had to remind himself to breathe. “And THAT...is from where the Waters of All Directions rose. The ancient Ponies were at the mercy of the splitting earth, the roaring sky, just as we all were in the middle of Spring THIS YEAR!” Gasps and panicked murmurs spread quickly throughout the crowd, which was three times the size of when Caramel, Big Macintosh, and Applebloom got there. Caramel flashed to Sweet Apple Acres broken and writhing beneath his hooves, stricken with dread at the possibility of it being his own work. At least it turned out to be out of anypony's control, let alone his... “Oh yes, the time is near...but PAY ATTENTION! This is important. The ancient ponies pleaded to the sea for reprieve from their hungry fields and murderous storms. And the sea answered. The tides ROSE UP--” “Oh my...” “climbed to be above the TALLEST MOUNTAINS--” “Oh pony, this is going to be awesome.” “--and SWALLOWED everything they could.” The crowd became still again...but only for a few seconds. That was when they began to disperse, gossiping about whatever. The other six squirmed uncomfortably. Caramel sneezed. “D-Don't you – I mean THOU SHALL NOT LEAVE! J-Just imagine it. The seas DROWNED the earth and everything on it. It was a MIRACLE the races managed to survive! Why do you think the stories of Paradise are so sketchy?! Why – WHY WON'T YOU STUPID GOYIM LISTEN TO ME?!” The crowd stopped. “STUPID?!” “The nerve of that gauche cultist!” “There's that word again. Goyeem...?” “WE'RE NOT GONNA TAKE THAT, RUBE!” Caramel looked to Junebug and the others: they were slowly backing away from the crowd. He was tempted to do the same... “OH, YOU'RE A FINE ONE TO CALL ME RUBE, YOU PUTZ!” “YOU WANNA FIGHT, TOUGH GUY?!” “I'LL TAKE YOU...oh wait, please don't, I'm sorry I'm sorry...!” The shod pony saw the scene unfold: it looked far too familiar. He had to do something, but the context was so different now. The only way he could think to stop it was more or less the same way he stopped it before. He was fazed at how much had changed over summer... “Mac? I'm going in. I'm going to show them.” He purposefully didn't look at Mac as he walked toward the center. “Nnope.” Mel felt a large hoof push him to the ground. Figured. “Well, what's your plan, then? They're gonna beat him to a pulp!” He heard nothing from his stallion or the others. The policeponies arrived, but they were clearly having trouble calming the rowdy crowd. Caramel wanted to keep it from getting ugly on the part of any of them. He just had to get their attention without risking too much... “Hmm...” One method presented itself to him. It was worth a shot, at least. “You got a plan, Mel?”, asked Applebloom in a worried voice. Mel shrugged off the hoof from his back and stood up. He heard Mac snort behind him. “I do, Bloom; you should go on home now.” Somewhat surprisingly, Applebloom obeyed and scurried off toward the farm. Mel took this as a good omen. He looked to his very best friend. “I'm gonna need your help, babe. Let's get to that gap right there, just follow my lead. Junebug?” “Y-Yeah?...HEY, YOUR CUTIE MARK--” “Yeah, yeah, calm down. Just...make it clear to everypony what we're doing once we start doing it. You ready, Mac?” “Nnope...” “Good, let's go.” Mel grinned that stadium grin. He was starting to see why Mac liked it so much. “W-Well...,” said the cult leader, “I think this was a very enlightening discussion. It's c-clear that different lessons are taught here, and you goy—ponies made very good points. So we'll just pack it in here and head back to the Borean Peninsula.” The crowd murmured in agreement. “Okay, then...let's just make sure not to step on them.” Caramel moaned in agreement as his tongue hugged Big Macintosh's in the middle of the town square. He knew it was safe to stop but...well, he didn't. “...Is it okay to separate them?”, asked somepony to the policeponies. “Y-Yes, but...we're kind of scared to, even the unicorns,” admitted the chief, glancing to the shuffling magic users. “You're supposed to be keeping us from being scared!” “I-I suppose it's not that we're scared,” defended the unicorn squad leader. “It's just...oh, come on, they're not harming anything and it's just rude!” “Plus we're not used to dealing with...horses," concluded the chief. “And I don't want any more freaking out about it, you hear?” Caramel had tried to keep his hooves still and close to his boyfriend as they laid side by side on the cobblestone, but the glint from his horseshoes made it obvious. He inferred the hoofsteps he heard earlier were the crowd's backing away from him. He'd just have to win them over later; he was a little busy at the moment. “I t-think everypony's getting used to it,” offered Junebug to the crowd. “Caramel's a good pony, after all. It's more...well...” “It's-It's just they're right in the middle of everything!”, finished some mare. “...That was the point,” observed Junebug. “...And here we are at the infamous town square!”, continued the tour guide as she walked up with her group. “The riot and public declaration of young Caramel's intents with local farm pony Big Macintosh took place here, with everypony gathered...very similarly to this—AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH!” “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH!”, shouted the startled crowd. TWEEEEEEEEEEEET! The crowd quieted again at the police chief's whistle. He glared at the tour group, whose leader calmed herself with a deep blush. “Everypony just stay calm!”, he announced. “We'll get this sorted out...somehow.” “Say, I don't remember Caramel having that cutie mark...” Mel pulled away to speak. Mac seemed put out by it, but then just started nuzzling him. “It's a long story,” he explained. “Or at least I assume it is; I need to hear from my...guy, first.” “Your...guy?”, questioned the mayor. “Yeeeeah. My guy. Everypony has a guy.” “...Ooooooh,” said the crowd. Mel swallowed. He was grateful for Mac nuzzling and pecking him, because he needed the encouragement for what he had to say next. “...And as for the horseshoes...I n-need y'all to just trust me on that one. I got them – oh yeah, right there – I got them for a good reason, and I'll be careful with them.” Ponies in the crowd looked to each other dubiously. “...It has to do with my weird condition,” offered Caramel. “The shoes fix it. I mean, it just makes sense: my talent is shoes, so getting shod fixed the problem!” After a while, the crowd began to murmur in acceptance. Mel nuzzled Mac in return, relishing the mid-morning sun coating him in gentle warmth. “See, it wasn't so bad after all!” “S-Shut up an' kiss me,” grunted Mac as he pulled Mel back in the hugging match. The crowd groaned. “Not again!” “This is just—you know what? I'm leaving. This is ridiculous.” “I'm with you.” The crowd finally dispersed. But even if it didn't, Mel was content to stay locked with Mac on the sunbathed stone... “You know whut they're sayin', right?”, said Big Macintosh the next day. “DAHLING, did you hear the latest?”, mocked Caramel. “Ponyville has a little HORSE running around!” Mac smiled wanly. He wasn't sure what else to do. “It's no big deal, really. I mean, of course it's a big deal, but it's not that important to me.” “Mel...” You can talk t'me 'bout this, really. Ah'm not stupid. “Mac, you're more scared of this than I am. As far as I see it, I'm just a pony who went in for a little...excruciating surgery-ritual-whatsit and came out better and stronger than before.” “...” You were shivering in yer sleep. Ah thought Ah wuz makin' you cold at first. “So what if the Equestrian Historian Society is pestering me? I'll just answer their questions and move on with my life! It's like...it's like giving a speech in bits and pieces!” “...” Ah'd laugh if'n it weren't so sad. “...Are we gonna do this?” Macintosh blinked, squinting at the square hay bale lying next to his mare. For once, he was glad he couldn't see in front of him clearly. “...Eeyup. Jus' push that there bale ever so slightly.” “You squinted again. I'm getting you glasses.” “Git on now, Mel.” “They'll be the best lenses in Equestria, Caramel Guaranteed!” “Jus' push th' bale, please.” Mac walked up to Mel, the bale getting clearer and clearer with each step. He saw the shod hoof press against the hay, budging it a few inches. “Not bad,” graded Mac. “Now a little less.” Mel complied, budging the bale a couple of inches. “Even less.” Mel budged it less than an inch. Then the little horse upped the ante by budging it even less...and even less...until it barely moved at all. “Hah!”, boasted Caramel with a smile. “And you were worried I would hurt somepony, pfft!” “Good,” commended Big Macintosh, remembering the welts on his chest. “Now if'n you could--” Mel cut him off by picking up the hay bale with both hooves. “...'Kay. Ah guess you could practice handlin' it like--” Mel started bouncing the large bale high in the air, tossing it from hoof to hoof. The energetic pony juggled it faster and faster, higher and higher, switching between hind and front legs to keep it aloft. “T-this is unbelievable!”, shouted Caramel. “I couldn't even touch it before; now it's doing whatever I want! I-I-I CAN'T BELIEVE IT! HAHAHAHAHA!” Mac bristled at the wind blowing from the rocketing bale. He was making himself dizzy keeping it in his sight, the sun glaring mercilessly in his eyes. “Um...! J-Jus' stop right there, babe. Don' git – DON' GIT CARRIED AWAY!” Despite the warning, Mel ended up bucking the bale toward him, eyes as wide as could be. Mac did the first thing that came to mind: he turned around as quickly as he could to buck it into the air. Bad idea. Mac's body was seized with panic as he turned around. The tightly packed hay was flying in a giant arc, passing high over the apple trees just weeks away from bearing fruit. Mel had disappeared. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” “JUNEBUG?! GIT OUTTA THERE!” Mac sprinted over to the eventual landing site, desperate to spot the orange and beige mane so close to getting crushed. Dodging trees left and right, he finally saw a blur of the flower mare, rooted to the spot. He squinted: she was trembling. “RUN, YOU SILLY MARE!” “Big Mac...I...” The bale was plummeting to right where she stood. She fell to her knees and covered her head. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” Mac threw himself toward her at full speed. “NNOPE! AH GOTCHA--” Thud. The hay bale landed...on top of two beige hooves. Macintosh fumbled onto the ground, narrowly missing Junebug and rolling uncontrollably, until he finally unfolded onto his stomach for an emergency break. Each blade of grass worked together to burn his barrel; but he did stop. “I-I'm so sorry, June! Things just got really crazy! Are you okay?” Big Macintosh unsteadily sat up and jostled his buzzing head. He took deep breaths. His stomach was making him wince with each intake. “U-Um, I'm fine. J-Just a little rattled...mmngh.” Deciding to ignore it, Mac stood up on all fours and started walking over to the scene of the crime. His head was still buzzing. Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum, badum! “You okay, Mac?” Nnope...but Ah will be once Ah'm done with you. “...Mac?” “YOU IDIOT! WHUT IN TARNATION POSSESSED YOU T'DO THAT?!” The orchard was completely silent. Junebug was still quivering. Mel slowly set the bale down and stood on all fours, his ears drooping. “W-What?” Mac felt like his chest was going to burst from his throbbing heart. It took all his effort not to whack the horse upside the head. “THAT...wuz th' most reckless stunt Ah've ever seen you pull. You almost flattened th' poor mare!” His eyes were bulging as Mel's face twisted in that rage he knew too well. Sure enough, they were head-to-head again, digging into the ground for leverage. “EXCUSE ME?! I wasn't the one who bucked it across the orchard, now was I?!” “Ah wouldn't've HAD to if'n you did whut Ah TOLD you t'do!” He pushed the miscreant back an inch. “Oh, please!”, countered Caramel, surprisingly pushing him the other way. “You could have EASILY blocked it. And yes, I messed up, but don't you dare pin this on me!” Sweet blue skies, yer cute when yer angry...nono, gotta focus. “Yer new shoes ain't an excuse t'act like that. Ah didn't have enough time t'block the damn hay!” “Well, you could have broken it! Did that just slip your mind? Or were you just a little too jealous?!” “Jealous?! Whut th' hells do you mean by that?!” “Um...guys?” “QUIET!”, shouted Caramel. Junebug shrank away from both of them. “DON' YOU YELL AT HER, YOU BULLY! This is on yer head, an' DON' DENY IT!” Mac's brain was on fire, seething with rage...but he felt the barest trickle of something warm. He forced himself to ignore it, pushing forward. “Oh, I'M the bully now?! Well, isn't THAT ironic!” Mel pushed back again. “Them's fightin' words, hon.” Push. “Bring it, sweetheart! I'm not afraid of you!” Push back. Gods o' Paradise, this is makin' me hot. But whut he did is so...! “...You think jus' cuz' you mutilated yerself, you can take ME out t'pasture?!” Big push. “I'll take all your first cousins out if I have to!” Big push back. “You cain't even bowl me over by mahself, squirt!” Mac gritted his teeth as he made another push. He hated to admit it was getting harder and harder... “Oh, NAME CALLING now? I guess we're at the point of no return!” Mel held his ground. “Ah guess we are!” Mac tried to bowl him over, but was met full force. “FINE!” Mel shoved him, bruising him again. “FINE, THEN!” Mac abandoned all control and tackled him to the ground. As soon as they hit the dirt, he shoved his tongue roughly down Mel's throat. His heart was split between righteous anger and the strangest fever clouding his vision. But he was met lick for lick, both trying to overwhelm the other, even if it meant one of them would choke. Junebug cleared her throat. The orchard was suddenly still again. The afternoon sun bore the early August heat on them, same as before. “...Did we just start fighting each other over an accident?” “...Eeyup.” "And just as suddenly making out, angrily?" "Looks like it." “That's kind of silly.” “Eeyup.” “...My head hurts.” “Eeyup...” “Sorry 'bout that.” Mac pecked Mel on the forehead. “Same.” “Boys...” Macintosh hurriedly got off of his colt. He was sick of being angry...He needed a break, something to clear his head. At least Junebug seemed to be taking it all in stride. “So...Junebug,” started Caramel. “What brings you to the farm?” “W-Well,” she stuttered, “I was thinking you guys might like a snack, since you're hard at work with the whole...shoe thing. But maybe you guys need both baskets, if you're this exciteable,” she finished with a chuckle. Mac blinked. He didn't even notice the baskets of daisies she was carrying on her back. Was he that distracted? Or maybe he was nearsighted after all...? “That's mighty kind o' you,” offered Big Macintosh. “What he said,” said Mel. “But no thanks. I don't need a pick-me-up. After all...” The ridiculous pony walked over to the weapon and casually tossed it on his right hoof. “I'm on top of the world! It's...it's the weirdest thing, too; it's like the hay is a horseshoe.” The other two just stared at him. “Exactly!", he continued without prompt. "It doesn't really make sense, but at the same time, it does! This is just an oddly-shaped horseshoe to me. My legs are horseshoes. It's like...” Mel dropped the bale on his head, balancing it perfectly. “I AM the horseshoe,” he intoned with false drama. “We are one...” Mac's head was buzzing for an entirely different reason now. He massaged his aching temple. “...Mel, you haven't been takin' painkillers while Ah wuzn't lookin', have you?” “HAHAHA! Of course not! That would just dull the experience! I'm gonna embrace this for all its worth. So, y'all know what I'm going to do?” Mac looked to Junebug. She looked scared, too. “...What's that, Caramel?”, asked Junebug. “...I'm gonna buy a house!” With that, Mac watched the strange beige pony flip the bale off his head and gallop toward town. He felt itchy. “...Well, shoot. Ah got all excited fer nothin'.” “Do what?” “N-Never you mind.” Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Breathing in through his nose, he felt his pulse slow to normal. He felt very, very drained. Caramel was capable of handling himself, so Macintosh decided to let him wander into town or whatever it was he wanted to do. His chest hurt. “Mnngh,” he groaned, rubbing the re-bruised flesh. After a few seconds, he saw a tall daisy bobbing in front of his muzzle. “Daisies always make me feel better,” she offered with a giggle. Big Macintosh blinked at her...then he smiled. Meanwhile, Twilight was analyzing the meticulous notes she made from behind a Granny Smith tree. A week had passed since the wayward bale incident, and Caramel had become a spectacle. The pall cast over him with the shoeing was the first challenge he had to face, which he did by using Big Macintosh as a volunteer for a demonstration on the steps of the town hall. Most everypony watched as he nudged and pushed and shoved and scratched and rubbed the big lug...and not a single bit of flesh was raised. The days of practicing basic touching with the shoes (plus something else...) had finally paid off, and the town was quite pleased, especially Twilight Sparkle. Then there was the matter of the strange cutie mark. Doctor Cardio had corresponded with him, explaining how he had a unique defect which was very, very basically described as an 'incomplete cutie mark'. As Caramel understood it, the lack of a fully defined talent forced the passive magic within him – as facilitated by pressure – to seek out the one clue it had and whatever else might be appropriate. Failing to find the second part of the talent, the loose magic exterminated itself, disintegrating whatever it touched. But once the second part was forced upon him, the talent was complete, and his internal magic flowed normally. The only curious part was how shoeing him did the trick instead of just touching a bar shoe, but then again he had never even seen one before that day in the office. The doctor suspected the shoeing was still necessary, but that went into different theories which both didn't interst him and revived memories of being force-fed speculation as a foal. He was just happy to be happy. All Caramel had to do was show the study Doctor Cardio published to the town at that gathering. Ponies seemed intensely aware of cutie marks for the next few days, some openly questioning if their talents were quite what they thought. The Cutie Mark Crusaders beamed the whole while; they were in their element for once. Finally, the memory of the stadium falling down had to be put behind everypony...but he actually made sure to take care of that first. The very first thing he did there was lay his shod hoof against the town hall's porous wood. It didn't even buckle. The crowd was completely still as Big Macintosh walked up to where the podium would have been. And that was that. Caramel had the attention of everypony and anypony from Ponyville and even of visitors from across Equestria, most of it being positive. The Equestrian Historian Society wasn't nearly as hair-raising as he thought it would be: they actually saw him as a living testament to part of the true, albeit unfortunate, foundation of pony society. Meanwhile, many ponies who were squeamish about his condition came forward to offer their sympathy (he decided it was better late than never). Fancy Pants also visited him again, nothing short of thrilled at how his old employee conquered his circumstances. They talked about the changes to Ponyville and Princess Celestia and hairstyles and Prince Blueblood and what it meant to be noticed. The cultists seemed to keep their distance, which was just as well. The demand to see him became so strong that when the mayor suggested he entertain them, his face lit up like a lantern. Proving himself to all those ponies was simply irresistible to him, so the area where the stadium once stood was restored to simple prairie with a couple of wooden bleachers like before. The Iron Pony Competition was reborn, and would take place in a week from this day: the day he bought his house. Applejack didn't get why she had to be blindfolded. She had seen the house before, after all. Sure, it had been turned into a bed-and-breakfast, then a businessponies' rendezvous, then a foreigners' shelter, then...a normal house again, she surmised. But apart from the odd sign fixed to the sides, it hadn't changed in looks at all over the months. It was strange, when she thought about it: it was situated just west of the town perimeter, so it was excellent for setting apart from other buildings. “Okayokayokay,” blathered Caramel. “You're gonna love this, you're gonna LOVE this! J-Just stand right there, good good. Okay...take it off!” Bracing herself for absolutely nothing, she took off the blindfold and opened her eyes. ...Whut? “...Wow. That's sure different.” She was looking at a two-story house given a complete facelift. The front and sides were freshly painted sky blue, and she could see the hint of dark red shingles for the roof. The brickwork for the porch and chimney was replaced, mixing the palette with purples and a hint of brown. New windows were installed, with charcoal grey windowsills. The woodwork was refinished and looking sturdy. And Caramel was bouncing nonstop on the porch, but his smile was surprisingly normal as opposed to the inane grin he had been showing for days on end. “Isn't it awesome?!,” said Caramel, the grin returned. “The best part is that it's mine! All mine! Hehehehehe!” “It looks brand new, Mel. Ah'm darn pleased fer you.” “Eeyup.” Applejack stifled a giggle. She just had to turn her head and look at her brother's glasses again. They looked very, very strange on him, especially with the end of his hair hanging over the bridge. The yoke around his neck and the single grass stem added to the surreality. “How're yer earpieces, big brother?” Big Macintosh said nothing. “They're great!”, answered Caramel, having finally stopped hopping. “I found that style when they were giving him the right prescription, and I just knew they were perfect. Doesn't he look amazing?!” “Uhh...yeah!”, humored Applejack. “He's a sight to behold!” Macintosh turned his head to her and mouthed: “I look ridiculous." She mouthed back: “Just wait it out." “I'm gonna go get the deed; wait right here!” And so Mel scurried into the house. The cowpony took a deep breath to get the crazy out of her head. As overexcited as Caramel was, it was nice to see something happy happen to him. All that doom and gloom hanging over his head disappeared like it was never there. And as exasperated as Big Mac was right then, she was willing to bet he was relieved. Everything was looking good for him, too...which make it worse for her to keep her secret. She had to find a way to tell him today. ...But he did seem troubled. She decided to help him lighten up. “Those lenses really aren't that bad, Big Mac,” she consoled. “Other ponies jus' gotta git used t'em, you know?” He rolled his eyes before saying: “Ah look like one o' 'em accountants. Ah'm not an accountant.” “Well, that's jus' a flat out lie,” she countered. “You've been countin' our revenue fer years now.” “Not with glasses.” Applejack mused on her brother: he seemed snarkier than usual. Maybe it was his colt's influence...? “An' Ah still say we should jus' git off th' grid an' be self-sufficient. You know...like real farmers.” Not this again... “You keep bringin' this up, an' you know whut mah answer is! Th' electromagical grid is whut gits us through th' winter! Not t'mention that's big talk fer somepony who runs up our heatin' bill bathin' his boyfriend.” It really was remarkable how much Big Mac could blush through that red hide fur. He adjusted his glasses. “Anyway,” redirected Applejack, “Ah'm glad yer somepony got somethin' o' his own, an' by himself, too. Ah don' think Ah've seen him so pleased an' not on meds!” “...Eeyup.” He still looked troubled...what was happening? “Somethin' wrong? Yer actin' out o' sorts today.” Big Mac gestured to the renovated house. “You know whut house this is?” “Huh? Sure Ah do. It's one o' th' nicer houses in Ponyville, been 'round fer a while.” “...It's his daddy's house. He bought th' house back.” “CORRECTION!”, bellowed Caramel from the porch. “This was my parents' old house. But they're gone, and I had money, so it's mine now. Here.” The loud pony picked the rolled document off the patio, holding it against one of the external supports. His name was signed at the bottom. As soon as her eyes met his, he rolled the deed back up and tossed it past the open door. “It's mine in deed and in truth. Think what you will, babe, this is my house and nothing more.” Applejack cringed. She detected lurking hostility in his voice but wasn't sure what to make of it. “So...this musta happened real fast fer me not t'notice it! Didja do all th' renovation yerself?” Caramel seemed puzzled before answering: “Oh, no, I didn't do all this. Applebloom fixed up the outside. I can't paint worth a bit, haha! But I suppose I could learn...” Ah. Come t'think o' it, where is that filly? Prolly too embarrassed t'show herself, silly thing. “Anyway, enough sunbathing! Come on in!” Adjusting her hat, she followed her brother up the patio and through the doorway. Once inside, she was pleasantly surprised at the pristine interior. Green paint decorated the walls and ceiling, being a little darker for the latter; the living room, also the first room, was spacious and spotless; the kitchen was spacious and well-equipped for cooking; mahogany stairs led up to the second floor; the temperature was balanced no matter where she stood; and the furniture suited the rooms in which they were placed. She saw no pictures, though. “Now I did most of this,” declared Mel smugly. “Re-wiring, furnishing, polishing, that was all me. Bloom offered to do it, but I took it as a chance to learn something new. And let me tell you: I'm glad I did! Lemme show you the upstairs.” Just before she complied, she spied her brother bowing his head. ...Hey, wait a minute! “Are you upset he decided t'move out?”, she asked calmly. Now that she thought about it, it seemed very sudden. “...Ah dunno,” he whispered. “It sorta makes sense, but...Ah cain't shake th' feelin' he's doin' it fer th' wrong reasons.” “Hey, come on!”, shouted Mel. “You'll like these bedrooms: they get a great view!” Mac shrugged, slowly cantering his way up the stairs. AJ followed with a lightly fluttering chest...she missed her chance again. The upstairs hallway was reminiscent of their own on the farm: an L-shaped accommodation for two minor bedrooms, a master bedroom, and a bathroom. Two windows on the left side overlooked the western ridge of the valley, prairie sprawling underneath. Like downstairs, the wood was polished and gave off a pine scent. “So here's the guest rooms, basically,” Caramel demonstrated with opening the doors to the minor bedrooms. “I thought I'd have one for casual visits and one in case I have to host somepony important; you never know.” The first room described had a warm yellow color on the walls, with books and games arranged in a cabinet as well as a nightstand. The second room was more striking in black streaked with light grey, containing a simple writing desk and a chair. Both had a twin sized bed. “And the master bedroom...”, teased Caramel as he opened the door. “I have plans for this room, buddy of mine.” Applejack looked to Big Mac: he was making the weirdest face. It was like he was trying to frown and smile at the same time. “If you think you'll miss our little safe spots, just wait until you try it here: the room's just the right temperature for it. Plenty of furniture options, too!” “Um, Mel...?”, interrupted Applejack. She felt a profound blush herself now. “...Plenty of options to sit and rest. Yes. And it's great for falling asleep at night. S-Speaking of which, I'm going to be staying here for at least a week.” “Do whut?”, said Big Mac. “Well, you can join me if you like...”, said Caramel, “but I'll definitely sleep here for a while. I didn't plan on this being just an empty house. At the very least, it'll be good for entertaining guests. And who knows? Maybe you could...um...” Big Mac coughed, and Applejack felt her chest flutter again. This was really starting to bother her. “Anyway, the bathroom's over there, the clock's behind you, and now you've seen everything upstairs,” Mel finished with a shaky grin. Tick. Tock. “So...whaddya think?!” She heard Big Mac's glasses click as he adjusted them. He was blinking frequently, fumbling with the earpieces until it slipped from his hoof. Mel caught it effortlessly. “Careful with those, babe! Those weren't cheap.” Mac slowly slipped them back on as he mumbled: “Nnope.” “...It's a purdy set-up, Mel,” graded the other Apple. “Ah admit Ah don' git why 'zactly you wanted t'buy a house, but you picked handsomely.” “Eeyup!”, said Caramel. “Glad you like it. Oh, oh! Be right back!” He dashed into the master bedroom and came back with a small tub on his head. It had a shoe painted on it. “Fancy Pants gave it to me: clear horseshoe polish! Apparently, it's used for the throwing game in Canterlot, but he had a spare one since he quit playing. It's just perfect. These babies are gonna shine!”, he illustrated with a hoof stuck out into the streaming sunlight. Applejack coughed. “They sure will,” she offered helplessly. She forced herself to watch as the grin on Mel's face slowly fell into a wan smile, and then a soft frown. She hated how awkward she was being...but consarnit, it was an awkward situation. “Is something wrong? Maybe you don't like the colors I picked?” He moved to set the tub back down in the master bedroom. “N-No, it's nothing like that,” rebutted Applejack. “It's that...well, why'd you buy a house in th' first place?” “...Oh,” said Caramel, his smile returning as he returned. “I implied it from before, but this house is important to me because it's where I grew up. I kinda wanted to reclaim it. Not to mention it's just nice to have a place of my own.” Well, that seems reasonable...Ah guess. Reclaimin' th' past is somethin' Ah wish Ah could do lately. “Ah gotcha,” she reassured with her own smile. “You've really made somethin' o' yerself, Mel. Congratulations.” “...Eeyup!”, said Big Mac. He sounded a little forced. Mel grinned, but it was a good grin this time, from nothing but happiness. “You two...”, he began as he hugged them both, “are just so awesome. I'm not cutting ties or anything, but I just have to say thank you so much. Especially you, babe. You put up with me beautifully.” Slowly but surely, her brother's face grew into that smile she knew so well. He was going to be fine, she just knew it. “It wuz no problem, Mel. Ah love you.” “I love you, too.” They pecked each other. Flutter. “W-Well, Ah should git goin', you two,” declared Applejack. “Happy house, Mel!” “Thanks again, AJ! See you at the orchard tomorrow!” “Roger that!” She walked down the stairs, out the front door, and out in front of the house. She wasn't keen on any developments actually occurring in front of her. It hit too close to home. This is gettin' ridiculous. Ah hafta tell him. As if on cue, her brother came out of the house by himself. He caught up to her and matched her pace back home. It had to be now. “Big brother?” “Hmm?” “You know how Ah pester you t'tell me if'n yer upset? Well...Ah'm gonna take mah own pesterin' an' ask you somethin'.” The spectacled pony squinted at her. It couldn't have been from nearsightedness. “'Kay. Shoot.” “...'Zit normal t'not be able t'fall in love?” Late that night, the faucet in Caramel's house dripped slightly. Drip, drip, drip. The water falling down was clean and pure, unbound and mindless...until then. The droplets started pooling at the faucet head, growing and shaping themselves into a flawed head. The head fell halfway to the sink as the water grew a thin neck, thinner arms, and a torso. The torso fed water to the rest of the body steadily, all of it growing and growing...It grew slits for eyes, and a mouth to speak. “We will make everything...” The new form failed, splashing into the sink. Caramel woke up with a start. He thought he heard a water balloon bursting or something similar. Blinking, he took in the sight around him: nothing had changed. He was still in his old room, restored more or less to its former state. He felt pathetic doing it, but it was something he had to face. He stopped sleeping in there the last night that he could stay in the house. Hoof steps echoed in his head, the memory of that night fully revived and bleeding pain. He had followed his father outside of the house, demanding an explanation. All he got for a response was a whisper in his left ear: “You're grown now. You'll make do.” He was helplessly rooted as the pony walked away. The bed-and-breakfast ponies would set up tomorrow...and his father had left him there. He couldn't stay there...so he didn't; he slept behind the abandoned library. He made do. Caramel groaned weakly as he laid down on the bed again. He spied the horseshoe polish on the nightstand. Pfft. Who needed him? He had a life to live, for once. He yawned and lulled himself back to sleep. Shine All FourCelestia's sun gently woke Caramel from a surprisingly restful sleep. Fully recovered from his self-pity, he recollected his plan for the day: he was finally going to buck apples after so many years of grieving that he couldn't. But first things first! He had to present himself properly. Placing his right front hoof on the tub of polish, he unscrewed the top fearlessly, savoring each centimeter it raised and spun. The lid fell to the nightstand, throughly defeated and yielding to the victor. No melting labels, no running paint, and no broken container. It really was the little things sometimes. He pulled out a rough yellow rag. Collecting some of the cool, transparent gel, he grabbed the rag with hoof and mouth on each end and rubbed it slowly (but thoroughly) against his shod hooves. It tickled a little, as if the nails were being rubbed as well. One shoe, then the next, then the next to last, and then the bar shoe. After the last polish, he wiped the residue off the shoes with the other side of the rag. He walked out to the hallway window to admire his work: the metal was glimmering in the early morning sunlight. Time to go to work. He was giving himself a raise today! The first apples finally became ripe, and so he and Big Macintosh stood in front of their main objective as mid-morning stretched over the valley. Applejack seemed preoccupied with something, so Caramel volunteered to take her place for the harvest. She did seem a bit lackadaisical, though... Meh. If it was important, it would be brought up later. He was far too anxious about this to distract himself. He made a note to remember exactly where the carts stood, getting a silent thrill at finally being able to pull one without getting winded or ruining the harness. His beautiful stud cleared his throat. Merely thinking about it boggled his mind: the strongest, handsomest stallion known for miles and miles was his to boast. Not that he had to; just looking at the truth of the matter spoke volumes. Said strongest, handsomest stallion neglected to wear his glasses, though. Caramel supposed the occasion didn't require them, so he decided not to nag him just this once. “Ah suppose we'll start with those two sections, circle 'round, and meet up in th' middle. We can buck th' rest tomorrow.” Hehehehehe... “Tomorrow, you say?”, teased the horseshoe twirler. “I don't think that'll be necessary. The two of us should have it done by lunchtime!” He turned his head, relishing the exasperated face Mac was pulling. It was all too perfect. “We're not super-ponies, babe, even with yer...enhancement. Ah don' care how strong you think we are, we cain't git through all o' that,” Mac illustrated with a sweeping hoof to the entire ripe part of the orchard, “in jus' two hours.” “Oooooh, I dunnooooo...”, sang Caramel. “I'm willing to bet it's feasible. In fact...I'm willing to bet I can do it all by myself!” According to plan, Mac looked completely unamused. It was almost time...he aimed his shot carefully while increasing rotation speed. He was lucky the route was so simple. You and me, old Cheerilee. It's gonna be great! “You listen t'me, Caramel,” announced Big Macintosh. “One pony plus hundreds of apple trees--” “GO!” A silver blur rocketed from his hoof. CLANG, CLANG, CLANG, CLANG, CLANG, CLANG... Twenty seconds later... ...CLANG, CLANG, CLANG, CLANG! Caramel caught the rebounding horseshoe. It left behind dozens of baskets filled with apples – from McIntosh to Red Delicious to whatever else that row held – as well as several dozen quivering trees. Cheerilee twirled innocently around his left front leg until he planted it ends-first in the ground. “Jus'...doesn't add up...” Caramel grinned the stadium grin. It made perfect sense to him now, embracing the freedom to be as proud as he wanted. He had certainly earned it. “How do you like them apples, babe? Purdy good, huh?” “...E-Eeyup. C-Caramel?” Huh. I was expecting speechless, but I guess sputtering makes sense, too. “Yeah?” “T-Tell me somethin'. Could you do that before?” Ah. He supposed it would come up at some point but not that soon. It wasn't like it hadn't bothered him the first time he thought of it, just that...oh, what did it matter now?! “Not really,” he answered. “I didn't have that much control before. But thanks to these babies--” He clopped the front horseshoes together. They made the most beautiful sound every time he did that, ringing loud and clear even for numb ears. “--I can make them do pretty much whatever I want! But within reason, of course. I couldn't clear out the ripened orchard in one throw, that would be ridiculous.” “Nnope...” Caramel sniffed the rich aroma around him. This was such a perfect day and opportunity to get the track-and-field champion wrapped around his hoof. Mac smelled even more like apples than usual, that sweet scent mixing with sweat – it sent chills down his spine. Of course, he needed more of the second ingredient. “...At least, I don't think I could,” he crooned, strutting circles around his opponent. “I've never tried it.” He looked at Mac: the lug actually looked nervous! With the glasses, it would have been perfect. Oh well. He enjoyed Mac turning head each time to keep Mel in sight, a simple expression of the power he had taken. It was the most adorable thing. “W-Well, we cain't know now, can we? N-Nnope...” Oh, this couldn't be more perfect if it tried. You're mine, Mr. “Shoes-not-Horseshoes”. “Eh, you're right,” Mel admitted insincerely as he started walking over to the next row of the ripe apples. “It's too late to test.” “E-Eeyup, heh heh!" “It's just as well. It would be so embarrassing to hear how the strongest Apple was bested at his own game...” Bad Caramel. What you're doing is wrong...but so worth it! He heard a pronounced snort behind him. The ground shook from the impact of his boyfriend's hooves. He was sure he heard apples fall into baskets. Uh oh. “Keep dreamin', little horse,” shouted Big Macintosh. “Ah cain't be beat here.” “Oh yeah?”, shouted Caramel as Cheerilee twirled again. “Well, bring it, sister's boy!” The ground shook again, and more apples fell subserviently to the ground. Caramel actually saw a few miss the baskets underneath the trees. “Oh, you done ASKED fer it now!” Twenty minutes later, the third of the orchard slated for harvest was completely freed of apples. The filled baskets were now sorted at the stockpiles, both racers trying to gain the advantage as they rushed back and forth to get them there. Small cracks ran across the ground, some dotted with ruined flesh from errant apples. Rows and rows of green-leaved trees sat undisturbed now, offering shade for the former competitors as they rested on their stomachs side by side. Big Macintosh sighed: Caramel felt so warm and sweaty, and Caramel smelled very good. “That...”, said Caramel once he stopped panting, “was a blast. These trees were singing once we were done with 'em!” “Eeyup.” Mac surveyed the scene: he had put all of himself into racing his little horse, pounding the poor earth in his furious energy. Even at the Stallions' Cup, he wasn't that fixated on winning; ambition came pouring out of him like it was always there. It wasn't just competing, he liked winning. ...And he felt fine with that. He shouldn't have felt fine with that; it was poor conduct that made him feel dirty in the worst way. But he did. As gut-wrenching as that day was, the cheers of the crowd made him feel as light as air, giving him a taste for wild praise. And here was his biggest fan, head inflated to three times its size with arrogance. Speaking of which... “...Ah still say Ah won,” he said with a sneer. “Oh, come off it! Those apples fell practically at the same time; I say let's just call it a draw.” Mac replayed in his mind the last seconds before they ran to cart the apples: a swift stomp into the ground and the last rebounds of that one damn throw had the Yellow Delicious tumbling too quickly to observe. He seriously considered getting a judge for the next two thirds of the orchard. “Hells, if anything, I probably won for carting half of them.” “Whut?! Ah carted jus' as much as you, an' in better time!” “Well, that's just because for one, you have years of experience--” “An' don' you forget it.” Did Ah jus'...? Well, so much fer bein' high an' mighty. “--And for another, you should spot me some points for being a lightweight.” “Oh, don' be absurd.” “I can't haul as much as you! It's impressive that I could even keep up.” Caramel was right. It was frightening how much stronger he had gotten in such a short time; Big Macintosh had to keep his eyes forward while pulling the cart just to keep from being unnerved. “We weren't even keepin' score!” “Not this time, that's true...maybe we should start scoring ourselves when we compete?” Oh, skies above. If'n you start scorin' our private time, Ah quit. “We'll just have to get Twilight or one of 'em to do it for the rest of the orchard,” stated Caramel with the Grin. Oh. Ah guess silly ponies think alike. The Grin was starting to seriously tick him off, especially since he suspected he did it just as often. But when he looked at the grinning madpony, he didn't exactly feel guilty anymore. He had found a rival to match him step for step, and that felt weirder than those confounded eyepieces making his nose itch. A rival with an inflated, swollen ego... Pop. “H-Hey, cut it out!”, protested Mel with clearly false anger. “I'm still a little dizzy, gimme some time before poking my head, heh heh. I don't have your stamina yet, big guy.” ...Yet? You seriously expect ta – oh Ah see now. Feelin' th' grind, huh? “Nnope.” “Blunt as usual,” said Caramel before rolling against him on the right side. “Give me a few more days and I'll be your equal, just you wait. I'm stoked for it! Those ponies will be beside themselves!” But in a week? You shoulda made it in a month or somethin'! If yer really gonna try that, yer gonna wear yerself down! Exercise t'ain't some magic potion; it won't bulk you up in that short 'mount o' time, or at th' very least not without consequences. You jus' got drunk on th' attention like Ah did, you silly pony, an' now yer payin' fer it. Why ain't Ah sayin' this out loud, consarnit, Ah don' wanna hurt yer feelin's. Damn that Grin. ...An' you cain't git t'my level o' stamina, Mr. Lightweight. Not a chance, but it'd be nice if'n you could. You an' me, neck an' neck all th' way...Ah wouldn't hafta hold back. An' Ah hate t'think it, but that master bedroom really did look good, oh pony stop it deep breaths deep breaths not while his daddy's still alive. Oh shoot, he's lookin' at me, say somethin', anythin'! “Eeyup.” Heh heh...smooth. “...You really think so?” Caramel sounded surprisingly worried. “You think I can do it?” Tell him tell him tell him quit bein' so wishy washy an' be honest fer once! Whut's wrong with you, Macintosh?! T'ain't like you hold back on other issues! Spit it out an' git it over with! “...Eeyup,” he answered with a smile. Moron! Ah...Ah jus' cain't crush him again, even though Ah kinda need ta. Skies above, jus' seein' those eyes light up makes me weak...oh Celestia it's that smile, Ah'm meltin', Ah'm meltin' right into th' ground Ah've missed you Caramel Ah love you so much. “You...you are so beautiful, babe. I mean with everything, you helped me out of that barn, you were so patient with me--” Ah yelled at you, Ah gave you grief, Ah threatened you an' yer dad, even though he has it comin'...oh don' start cryin' you know whut it does t'me! “--you worried about me when I should have worried about myself, you got my life together...you were just awesome for the whole thing, thank you so much Mac, I love you more than anything...!” And that was it. Mac couldn't stay reserved anymore, rolling to his side and pulling Mel to him greedily. He had forgotten everything but his soul pressed against him, entangled in his limbs like he had actually raced to win the sweet little beige pony of his dreams. “Ah-Ah love you too...Ah jus' want you t'be happy, Ah love you so much baby.” He saw Mel smile like the sun, drinking in the sight before they both abandoned words and nuzzled each other. He felt himself melding to the ground, not wanting to move an inch in case it all shattered. All he could do was rest against Mel for however long as each breath pressed them together. The roller coaster had finally stopped. Mel's hair was actually wet now, sticking to Mac's hide at the ends. To think it could have been like this so much sooner...well, that was what he got for being a dummy. But eventually, the sweaty hair made him itch, so he sat up and shivered as the shoes dropped away from him, letting the summer air rush over his sides. Those damn things had changed both of them so severely that it was hard to picture life before that doctor's visit. He still hated them a little. Mel looked nothing but content with them, though. “Am sorry fer grievin' you 'bout th' shoes. Ah know it wuz petty, you jus' hafta understand--” “It-It's okay,” interrupted Mel, taking a deep breath. “You were just protecting me, and that's why I love you.” “...Really?” “Mmhmm!” Mel pecked him. You put me through hell, little colt. But it wuz sure worth it. “That, and you're just amazing.” Mac pecked the pretty pony back, nibbling the left ear as a response. No matter how many times he did it, it always enthralled him to Mel in spite of anything else. He craved the shudders underneath him; he teased the supple flesh mindlessly, effortlessly; and the cool shoes brushed against him, never failing to agonize his vigor. But it felt different now, shadowed with a hint of...shame? Maybe he was forgetting something important? He opened one eye to scan the area: cracks in the ground would be hard to hide. That was the reason he never did it before. But he supposed some loose soil would mitigate it all. He moved on to clench Caramel's lower neck...only to feel that twinge again. Now what the hells could it be? He looked Caramel over – being sure to linger on certain parts – but there were no bruises or anything from the teeth marks. He looked at the trees, but they were fine. The carts were where they needed to be; Applejack could take care of herself; the skies were blue; and the iron was hot! So what was bothering him so much?! He knew he had to discover it before he lost his nerve...and before it became too serious. Mel pulled away from him with a sly smile. At least he wasn't disturbed by phantom guilt; that would be the last thing he needed. He had just gotten the little horse to smile from emotion not linked to posturing or painkillers or those freaky shoes or...well, that didn't count. But why the sly smile? That wasn't the usual signal, so it just confused-- “Hey, I'm hungry. Wanna get some daisies? Junebug should have a whole bunch by now.” Daisies? “...Umm...” Caramel wanted daisies? After all of those apples they just harvested? Junebug? That didn't seem right somehow; why would Caramel want...daisies? “S-sure, we can do that.” “Great! I've had a hankering for a while, let's go!” Big Macintosh felt butterflies in his stomach as they got up and headed for town. He was forgetting something, something subtle. Junebug and daisies, Caramel and apples, white daisies, red apples, oranges, orange and white and beige... He gulped. Bullseye. Caramel woke up the next morning in the master bedroom. He sighed at the lack of Big Macintosh, still unable to convince him to sleep there. The bed was ridiculously big compared to the midget of his old room, but it was also ridiculously comfortable with the satin sheets on which he had splurged. In any case, he had to get up; but he first made a sad farewell to the grey bedsheet which kept him so deliciously warm. As he got up, the Iron Pony Competition occurred to him. More or less the same events would be hosted, the only real difference being the structure of the contendership. Instead of two ponies fighting for supremacy, several different ponies would compete against him in what was their top field. He supposed some of them would be competing with their special talents. But his own talent was so flexible and expansive now that it seemed like his talent was adapting to different demands. Did he have an unfair advantage? Well, it was all in good fun. If he won, he won; if he lost, he lost. The point was to show how he was perfectly functional anyway. He unscrewed the lid and shined his shoes, being sure not to miss a single spot. Tugging on the rag, he dragged the polish across the metal with care until the horseshoes were gleaming like the morning before. It was a shame how they got so dirty so quickly, but no way to avoid it was workable...unfortunately. He just made sure to make them shine as much as possible, savoring the moment's flickering sunlight. He fixed his hair. He was really beginning to like the hanging strands for what they were. Time to go to school. It was just study hall, though. Cheerilee had agreed to fill some gaps in Caramel's knowledge over the weekend, even though the conversation leading to that was enlightening in and of itself. It seemed his leaving school early motivated her to take over the school once Bully Pulpit retired: she felt that if she had to be disappointed about not being able to help him, then she didn't have to be for the next generation. He named his favorite horseshoe after her just because she was nicer to him than most, but now it seemed all the more appropriate. “...And that's why ground-to-cloud lightning is really just a theory. If it actually happened, who knows what kind of mayhem it would have caused the founders of Pegasopolis?” He suppressed a sigh. “Doctorspeak” was apparently not exclusive to doctors. He squirmed on the one stool in the classroom, refusing to get into the students' chairs. It made no difference that Cheerilee made no preference; he wouldn't be caught in an embarrassing position like that for any reason. That, and it brought back bad memories which already flooded his head. “Well, that's all about history I can think of from the top of my head,” said Cheerilee with a giggle. “Any questions you have for me?” Questions, questions...I can't think of anything. I always just asked about something whenever it came up, you should remember that about me from school. It's just not...hmm. Well, technically it IS a question. “Just one,” said Caramel. “Excellent!” She was beaming like old Pulpit. “What is it?” “How come you and Big Mac didn't work out? I-I know it might be touchy or just old news, but...well, I'm curious.” Cheerilee seemed a little peeved, which he expected. But she wasn't peeved enough to not answer, even pulling out a lock of dirty blonde hair from her desk. She considered it with a frown, and then she put it back with the other teacher things. Caramel imagined the hapless lock laying next to an opened box of chalk, constantly at risk of getting covered in the throat-clogging powder. He berated himself for getting sad over something so ridiculous. “He and I...”, she trailed off while pacing the room, “we never understood each other. I wanted one thing, he wanted another thing, that sort of thing. We really liked each other at first, but in the end, we just weren't compatible. So there's really nothing to say about it,” she finished lackadaisically. He peered carefully at her face, looking for any betrayal of emotion. She seemed genuine, but something still rang false to him...He figured it wouldn't hurt to ask. “Why weren't you two compatible, then?”, he pressed. “Wanting different things isn't a deal breaker, after all.” My relationship is proof of that more than anything, sheesh. “...I'm not sure how to describe it,” she admitted. “I-I guess you could say we wanted a certain relationship at the time, but neither of us really knew what that was. We wanted to be together, but not to be obligated to each other, if that makes sense. It doesn't, does it...?" “...Actually, I can kinda understand that. At least a little.” Caramel thought of the bubble gum mare he sought of his own will. He certainly didn't want any obligation to her, just...something. Something that wasn't 'being lonely'. Caramel inspected his shoes: still bright, but they were irritatingly scuffed. Some way to avoid that needed to be invented soon. Perhaps he could commission an inventor to make anti-scuff polish, or a permanent no-scuff spell? Wait, no, he had to focus, he had to focus. “Not to mention,” Cheerilee continued with an awkward tone, “the whole potion mess reminded us of how much we didn't make sense together. I suppose...I suppose the best way to put it is we both felt like we should have been together, even though there was nothing between us for real love.” Cheerilee giggled before adding: “Yes, I believe that's the answer. Love can sure mess with a pony's head!” Mel considered his own obligations. All he really wanted from himself was to do well in life and not have anypony worrying over him. The latter was proven to be difficult, but he did his best to minimize any grief he had given Big Macintosh. Really, he did. He did as much as he could! Putting the pony over himself in every situation, except maybe for the shouting matches...and the shoeing...and the house buying... No problem, not at all! Once the Iron Pony Competition is over, I'll hold up my end of the bargain. I won't be a leech anymore, not for anypony in anyway! New life, new autonomy! It's time to give back, time to-- “WOULDJA LISTEN T'ME, CARAMEL?!” “IT WASN'T ME!”, yelped Caramel at the sound of Applejack's voice. It wasn't him? What in the hells did he mean by that? “It wasn't you? Whut in tarnation do you mean by that?!” He instantly flashed back to his days as a foal when he hid report cards from his parents and forgot about them. He was still puzzled by how they seemed to forget as well; maybe they didn't want to see them either? All he could do now was try his best to collect his thoughts and calm himself. Applejack wouldn't think less of him for taking time; he told himself that with each inhale, in and out, in and out. “Sorry about that. I was just caught off guard; I haven't done anything except listen to Cheerilee. You need something?” Upon his own mentioning of Cheerilee, he was struck dumb at her vanishment. Had he been zoned out for so long that she left? And why did he feel so sleepy despite not having fallen asleep? “Look at me, Mel.” Mel complied, keeping focused on her. The last free thought he had was how the schoolhouse seemed to make his thoughts fly freely. “Ah jus'...wanted t'tell you Big Mac has gone t'Canterlot t'chat with yer doctor 'bout yer surgery. He won't be back until sometime in th' afternoon, maybe not even 'till supper.” Mac with Doctor Cardio...why does that make me uneasy? “Speaking o' which,” she added with a sudden smile, “you didn't hafta stop comin' by jus' cuz' you moved out. So long as yer not moochin', yer absolutely welcome t'eat with us, make no mistake.” Caramel felt himself smiling like a big dope. Eeyup, it really was the little things sometimes. “Oh, I know,” he said as he got off the stool. “I was actually hoping to come by tonight. I just wish he had told me he was leaving...” Applejack blanched. Why did she blanch? Did it have to do with how depressed she looked yesterday, maybe? “O-Oh, it was all o' a sudden,” she said after too long of a pause. “You know how it is: sometimes, you jus' gotta git up an' do somethin' t'do it. In th' meantime, Pinkie's gatherin' ponies fer a roller coaster party. Whut did she call it? Uh...A Roly-Pony Ricochet Riot. Ah gotta admit, th' slogan got me interested.” “Hmm...”, mused Caramel. “I never got to try the one in Canterlot, so I guess it'd be nice to finally ride one! I'm there. By the way, are you okay?” Oh yeeeeeah, real smooth. Idiot. “Um...”, stammered Applejack, “Whaddya mean? 'Course Ah'm fine. Ah'm jus' peachy, haha!” He felt painfully aware of how warm the room was as Mac's sister fiddled with her hat. One-on-one speeches and speeches for massive crowds just didn't sit well with him. But he doubted he would get anywhere with her anyway, if her sad eyes were any indication. “You're lying...but if you really don't wanna tell me, I can't make you. I just hope it's not serious.” Applejack lying...so much has changed, even you. Look at you fidget, it's a farcry from a tiny filly telling on me for messing with a plough harness. Great skies above, we're all grown, that's scary. “...Thank you,” she said after a few ticks and tocks. “Ah don' mean nothin' by not tellin' you, it's jus'--” “Eh,” he rebutted with a hoof wave. “I trust you, and I know what it's like not wanting to tell something to anypony. You'd tell me if Ah needed t'know, right?” Just like that, her eyes lit up and color returned to her face, even though most of it was red. “Now where'd you git that there fancy accent, pardner?” Mel loftily brushed his hair back as he intoned: “Why, it's just the cosmopolitan way, dahling.” AJ giggled. At least she thought he was funny. “Come on. Pinkie's not th' waitin' type.” “No, no she's not.” And so he galloped with her to the amusement park, restored by popular demand and Fancy Pants' generosity. He tried a roller coaster for the first time. It was absolutely amazing. He went five more times, vowing to work out extra hard once he was done. He wanted to ride one with Mac next time, if for no other reason than to see the faces the big lug would make. Was Mac wearing his glasses at the doctor's office? “You cain't tell me you handled that professionally. You put mah little pony through a right hell from a fright, an' Ah'll grant it wuz a mighty fright, bless his heart. But if Ah had half a brain, Ah'd haul yer rear t'court. An' mah brain's full.” Doctor Whutshisname sighed deeply. Truthfully, Big Macintosh couldn't make heads or tails of the court system, so he was just blowing hot air. But the sweaty pony didn't have to know that. Caramel could probably put it together, but that one was just too forgiving for the wrong ponies...Just hearing the incident described made him want to hug Mel and lock him in a box where it wouldn't happen again. If it wasn't one pony hurting him, it was another, it seemed. If'n she told him Ah came here...Ah don' think Ah could handle bein' that angry. Haha, who'm Ah kiddin'? She ain't th' type. His glasses still made his nose itch. But they made him feel smarter, so he brought them along. They helped him see the doctor's facial expressions better, too. Right then, sweat and stretched eyebrows formed a textbook cringe. “That-that was a panic situation, sir. We needed to ensure the nails were set or he would have lost too much blood. If you were there--” “Ah recall you mentionin' th' possibility of 'em bein' rejected with th' painkiller. Are you implyin' you had no contingency plan t'deal with that? Even a farm pony can tell that ain't how medicine is done.” In that moment, he considered going over the judicial process one last time to see if he could file a suit after all. But Mel would object to it, and that was a fight he didn't want to have. If Mel didn't want to defend himself, there was little he could do about it...At least he could make the doctor suffer and use fancy words like 'impunity' with impunity. ...Wait. What did that joker say? Caramel woke up late the next day feeling depressed. As soon as his meaningless dream faded beyond recognition, he reflected on the disappointing dinner at the Apples. They were all courteous and friendly except for Mac, who was inexplicably silent. He didn't want to say anything because it was fundamental for Mac to be silent...but it had a different energy to it. Caramel felt like Big Macintosh was being silent to him. Did something happen in Canterlot? He thought about the fuzzy 'mishap', but every time resulted in no new insight; this was no exception. The only possible insight was Mac himself, but the irritating lug just played with that ratty old doll. It was the first time he saw – what name did Mac give it?...whatever – at the dinner table. Mel just ate his dinner and glanced at the two playing pretend. He felt like an unwelcome guest. But another day was another opportunity. Caramel swung his legs over the side of the master bed to shine his murky-looking horseshoes, wincing as the metal grazed the wooden frame. He reached with his left front hoof to grab the rag, which caught and ripped on the shoe itself. After taking a deep breath, he carefully removed the rag and even more carefully applied the polish. He felt lightheaded as he made sure to avoid the uneven nail and any other plausible offenders. Time to eat. He had to stop skipping breakfast; it was becoming a bad habit. Furnishing the house with food felt...lonely, so he decided to leave well enough alone until Macintosh moved in with him. In the meantime, he was fine with picking up odd meals from the market or mooching off the Apples. He tried to pay Applejack for lunch at one point, but she threw a fit over it. At least he made the effort. This morning, he decided to get some pears; he hadn't had a good pear in such a long time. The market was now void of the usual shoppers, having left earlier. This was the one section of Ponyville that was completely restored after the elitist takeover...it was a heartsick revelation to him every time he saw it, without fail. “That'll be ten bits per pear, sir,” said the salespony. “Hahahaha!”, guffawed Caramel. “You're funny, come on, what are they really?” “Ten bits. I'm not one for jokes.” Caramel stopped ruffling through the bits in his saddlebag. He had enough in that storehouse on the farm to buy out the pear stand for several months, maybe even longer. The bulge in said saddlebag was just noticeable to the untrained eye, while highly noticeable to a sleazepony. Uh-huh. “Tell you what,” answered Caramel. “I've noticed your supply is still flush after the morning rush. I'll take all five of these pears for three bits, and you'll be thankful that I bought even one.” The salespony nonchalantly looked askance to the pear crates. Something about the gaze made the haggler nervous about Winona guarding the storehouse. Theft wasn't a common crime in Ponyville, but he was seriously considering throwing those bits into a bank. Perhaps he'd group them with the majority of his wealth Fancy Pants insisted on storing in Canterlot for safekeeping. His utilities were being charged directly to that account anyway; he'd just take out a yearly budget for food and whatnot. Yeah. It would work out well enough... All those strangers milling around the town with fat pouches and strange visions for the future: he was one of them. Even when he was a foal, he was never one of them. For a sick second, he found himself missing the old barn. Being a rich pony felt too weird. “...Sir? I said you can have them. Take them before I change my mind.” “Huhwha?” “Oh, Caramel!”, giggled a mare. “Cheerilee said you were spacey lately, and she wasn't kidding!” Caramel shook himself lucid to see Junebug collecting the pears and dropping them into his saddlebag. He paid the salespony without taking his eyes off her. She had her usual smile and her own saddlebag of morning glories. They smelled freshly cut; she smelled sweet. And he felt uncomfortable around her for some reason. Anxious, hot, and even irritated. She was sickeningly sweet, wasn't she? He had never noticed it before, but...yes! Yes, she really was! “Yeah. Spacey...thanks for your help. So what're you doing here?” “Oh, this and that,” she answered in that cackling baby voice. “It's a nice day to get errands done. Anyway, it's great that I bumped into you!” Oh, joy. “Why's that, then?” He really hoped he wasn't broadcasting his evil thoughts through his face. She and he started walking away, which soothed his nerves a little. Before turning the corner, he was sure he heard the merchant mumble something like “cutie mark freak” before doing whatever. At least that pony was almost honest; and who could blame him, really? At times, he thought he could feel the three blue horseshoes pulling against the bar shoe, locking it into place like a prisoner. If that wasn't freaky, then what was? “Well, it's funny really. I was talking to Big Mac early this morning, and he had the weirdest question for me. I was wondering if...” Why's she talking with him? I guess a flower mare's gotta socialize, but why him? He barely looked me in the eye yesterday...just focused on that ugly doll. “..it's just I think you would be better at helping him with it. It's a guy question, after all...I think. Come to think of it, I don't know why he didn't ask you first.” She sounded confused. He liked that for some reason. “Huh. Okay, what's the question?” “...You okay, Caramel?”, asked Junebug with a frown. “You've been kinda curt with me.” “O-Oh, it's nothing,” he answered with a sincere blush. “I just woke up on the wrong side of bed, don't mind me.” Maybe that's all it really is...yeah. I like morning glories, really I do. They smell like Mom; they shouldn't be irritating me, nor should she. “O-Okay,” said the flower mare. “He asked me if it was natural for a stallion to fall in love with another stallion. Like I said, I have no idea why he asked me. He seemed really anxious about it, though...” ...What? “What?” Junebug shrugged. “It's not the sort of thing I really think about, either. I think you should talk to him, though, before he gets too wound up about it.” And why the hells would you know how he gets wound up, stop it STOP IT geez Caramel... Wait, no! Why did he ask her that and not me?! I could actually answer that question...once I've thought about it a bit. It's just...it's just stupid! It's asinine! It's underhoofed! It...it hurts. He confided in her instead of me. Is he trying to tell me something with this? Caramel looked at Junebug's worried face. Stallions and mares, stallions without mares, morning glories, trust and intimacy, blush-red and sun-yellow and beige... Pfft. That was ridiculous; the whole thing was ridiculous! Mel was letting the other day confuse his thoughts. He needed to get away from her and clear his head. “I'll have to think about it, Junebug,” he answered. “In the meantime, I really need to get pumped for the contest. See you later!” He galloped with his pears away from the marketplace, horseshoes pounding against the ground. They were getting dirty, but he was going home to shine them again anyway. Caramel was not going to be caught with filthy hooves on the day of the competition, or preferably anytime that mattered. “Okay, see you!”, she said with a wave. I'd rather you didn't. “I'll leave it up to you, AJ. Use them wisely.” “Okay, Twi...take care, now.” Applejack watched helplessly as Twilight trotted back toward the library. She was left with a letter addressed to Dr. Cardio, not wanting to think about the contents at the moment. The sunlight was shining harshly in her eyes, and she needed to clear her mind again. No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't ignore it anymore. From Rick Shaw to Ace to Cheerilee to Ivy to her best friends to even the dregs of snobbery...it was all the same to her, just differently colored boulders. But why? She paced around the thrice-organized shipment of apples destined for Fillydelphia as she remembered the Cakes. When she was little, they always seemed like the ideal of relationships next to her parents: calm, measured, warm, meaningful, long-lasting, involved, and productive. To this day, she saw them as paragons of livelihood. But nothing had changed as she had grown. It still seemed like a fuzzy dream, something worth pursuing yet unpursuable. No matter how hard she tried, she just wasn't interested in ponies that way...and she knew that because she was sure other ponies didn't have to try. Not a flush, not a flutter, not even a flicker in her eye led her to love that way or to desire the rite of progeny. But why?! Big Mac couldn't give her an answer! It wasn't a problem, or at least not until now. She did what every Apple did: she worked the farm and sorted out as many problems as could have been sorted, especially during all the hullabaloo in the spring. But with all the drastic change came subtler changes. Pinkie Pie had found her somepony; her brother grew enough courage to seek his own out; Twilight had finally found her flicker; and Spike would never be the same. As much as everything flipped on its head and everypony transformed from the inside out, she had stayed the same. It was to protect the farm, to stave off the delusioned Oranges...or so she thought. Once it was all over, all she had to claim was what she had claimed before: a family pony, a business leader, and a delegate to tentative deals. She was a family pony without a family of her own, and it scared the daylights out of her. Applejack took to watching other relationships, looking for some secret to bring her flicker to life. Each relationship had its own quirks and rules and expectations to be ployed and sometimes exploited. She knew every trick there was to make or break lovers' bonds. But tricks and rules didn't inspire her to seek it out for herself. They all looked like passion-sick kooks throwing all of themselves to the wind, hoping for somepony to catch them blindly. Even the happiest and calmest of couples – even the Cakes – seemed part of something alien. She had absolutely no idea what to do now. None. ...Ah guess Ah should investigate these letters. If'n Twi thought they were important 'nuff t'be read, then Ah should trust her. Ah'll jus' skip past th' numbers an' junk here-- ...and that should cover it. But if it's okay, I have a special request for you. For the pony that will actually shoe me, I would like it to be Maccabee Shine if that's possible. He'll understand. It may sound weird, but I just don't trust anypony else to do it. If you could make that happen, it would be so much better. Knowing him, you could probably find him working inside the mountains. Eagerly awaiting your response, Caramel Maccabee Shine? That name rang a bell, but it was tough to tell which one. But more significantly, Caramel seemed to know a ferrier...or at least a potential one. This ran deeper than just requesting a doctor to perform surgery, and Twilight said that Big Mac may have needed to read this. Her head buzzed with the implications and the sound of hoofsteps. What she did now could really make a mess of things if she wasn't careful; she could feel it down to her bones. As if she didn't have enough to worry her already... “G-Get outta the way, AJ!” Caramel, speak of the devils, suddenly appeared in her field of vision, barreling past the entrance to Sweet Apple Acres. She had somehow wandered out in front of it...was she really that distracted? “Whoa! Sorry there, Mel!”, she said as she jumped out of the way. Mel sped past her without another word, those weird shoes gleaming surprisingly bright with each gallop. Supposedly, he had thirty more laps to go until he was satisfied for the day. Applejack still had to wait for her brother to help her heft the crates to the train (he didn't let her get away with doing it herself before, and he wouldn't do it now). She thought about how distant he seemed the other day. All he told her was that the 'mishap' was just a misunderstanding and everything was fine. Other than that, he just played with that old doll she couldn't get him to return to Twilight. Even if she tried now, it would be too awkward...but not like how it was awkward to see Mel trying to talk to him while Big Mac just ignored everypony. Just what happened, anyway? Did it have something to do with this letter? ...Aw, shucks! He's prolly jus' tuckered out from bein' so lively with his colt. He'd hafta stop t'cool off eventually. Wouldn't he? It's jus'...oh, who am Ah kiddin'? Ah cain't make heads or tails o' it. He's jus' gonna hafta tell me himself. ...In th' meantime, maybe Ah should chat with th' other half. She walked in front of the entrance deliberately this time, spying the distant beige figure twisting and turning along the perimeter of the acreage. After a few minutes of nothing else to do, she saw him bounding with slightly less energy up to the gate...and stopped in front of it. The boy knew signals when given to him, good. “I...I guess...”, said Caramel as he stopped for breath, “...that you...wanna talk--” “Yes,” preempted Applejack. “Ah wanted t'talk 'bout Big Mac.” She saw his wavering gaze focus and his face fall slightly. He was taking last night seriously, that was for sure. “Can it...wait? I...really need to beat flanks here.” “Not really, no.” She caught a split-second glare from him, which quickly replaced itself with a polite smile. It was like reading the faces of the Oranges, maybe even worse because it was somepony she knew. A horrifying premonition clawed at her from the thought of it. Was she losing control of her family? A conspiracy of madness, born from the hearts of her own...it was the kind of paranoia that killed her parents. She reclaimed herself in order to speak. “Now Ah don' reckon you know 'zactly why he behaved th' way he did at dinner last night. But Ah do wonder if'n there were somethin' worth knowin' that you did. Know, that is.” Caramel stared at her. Applejack stared back without reservations. The letter sat under her hat patiently. “...I'm not sure what you mean. Are you asking if we're having a fight?” “More or less.” She shouldn't have been obtuse in the first place. “Since you asked, I have no idea!”, whined Caramel. “I only saw the lug as much as you did at dinner – and thank you again, by the way. I tried asking him about the trip before he went to bed, but he acted like I wasn't even there! It really got my...” Oh, ponyfeathers. So he's upset 'bout that, too. Well if'n he asked, Ah'd jus' tell him Ah saw no reason not t'tell Caramel. He couldn't even give me a reason! Most ridiculous thing Ah'd heard all day that day! “...really don't want to be reminded of that. Did...did I just say that? Please tell me I didn't say that!” Whut? “D-Don' worry 'bout it, sugarcube.” The athlete-hopeful recoiled, seeming completely aghast at her. Gee willikers, just what did he say? “H-How can you say that?! I can't just 'not worry' about bearing my soul like...” Mel stopped and took a deep breath. “...You know what?”, he said with a genuine smile. “If you're not worried about it, then I shouldn't be either. Thanks, AJ. You really know just what to say!” Jus' count yer blessin's an' move on, girl. T'ain't worth th' consequences. “Not a problem, Mel. Git on, now!” “R-Right!”, said Caramel with a healthy grin. “I'll deal with that weirdo another time. See you around...literally! Heh heh.” “See you! An' go easy on th' jokes there.” The last she saw of him was a cringe before he started galloping around the farm again. Stressing over his boyfriend, calling him names, still thanking her for a simple courtesy, carrying some secret around that was reminiscent of last night...she was starting to wonder about him. He was normally polite around her; but there he was, hinting at some trouble brewing. Now she knew something bad would happen if she didn't act. When was her brother going to come help her with the shipment?! “Um, AJ?” She turned her head to see the pony himself walking over from the barn to heft a crate. He seemed completely bored, even a little irritated. He had a small morning glory between his teeth. “Right behind you, big brother. We should still be able t'make it.” “Eeyup.” Applejack hefted her own crate on her back as they walked toward the train station. She was intensely aware of how hot the August sun was bearing down on her, brazing each step with the crate. After they were halfway there, she couldn't stand it anymore. “Ah'm sorry Ah told him,” she confessed. “But he was gonna ask questions, an' it woulda come out eventually. T'be honest, Ah think you were jus' bein' silly...but Ah did break mah promise, an' Ah apologize.” For some reason, she found herself entirely grateful that she wasn't carrying oranges. Big Mac didn't lose his focus or turn to look at her as he answered. "Yer wigged out o'er this love dilemma, so Ah forgive you." Suddenly, the August sun wasn't as oppressive to her anymore. She forgave Applebloom, and he forgave her, just like it always was. She should have known that would never change, heh. "...You really mean that, big brother?" “...Eeyup.” After twenty minutes or so, the two of them had loaded the final crate of apples onto the train. Thankfully, they didn't put the conductor too far behind schedule, even though they made a point to wait between Caramel's laps. The train started up and left without a single issue. As soon as they left the station, his sister started as Big Macintosh let out a heavy sigh. “Ah should talk t'Caramel,” he said with a weary-looking frown. Applejack felt her muscles slowly relax. Finally, something sensible was about to take place! Now all she had to do was guide him in the right...direction... Her muscles clenched again. “Ah wuz jus' paranoid 'bout somethin', an' Ah shoulda told him th' truth. Ah'm sure it's nothin'.” Her body temperature spiked. This was the worst time to break it to him, but it was also the only time left. It could only be one thing. For better or for worse, she made her decision. “Big Mac?” “Mmhmm?” “...Before you do that, there's somethin' you should look at.” Applejack gingerly took her hat off her head and turned it over, letting the letter fall into Macintosh's quick-drawn hooves. She watched him read it. His face turned from a perplexed frown, to a disgusted frown...and then to a face of horror...and then to a face that scared her to no end. Big Macintosh was angry. Very angry. But he also seemed like he was about to collapse. “U-Um...Ah wuz wonderin' if'n you knew 'bout this. Ah'm sure you--” “Where did you git this?”, he asked in a disturbingly quiet voice. She thought of Twilight and how she was a comparative weight disadvantage to her brother. Any interaction they had while he was like this wouldn't be remembered well, she knew that. “Ah-Ah stumbled upon it. The doctor must have slipped it into that academic journal thingy he sent us by accident.” Well, it was technically true. At least that was what she was told. Twilight didn't go too far into it... “W-Why? Did it say somethin' peculiar?” Big Macintosh said nothing. For some reason, Applejack thought of roller coasters. Caramel woke up in a cold sweat on the day of the competition. It was another nightmare about being locked out of the Apple family home. If only Big Macintosh would show himself and Applejack would be straightforward with him, then he wouldn't be so nervous! Nerves were the last thing he needed, after all! Victory would just have to be good enough to soothe him. He shined his shoes very thoroughly, disgusted at the marks that had formed overnight. Why did that always happen?! He rubbed and scrubbed and almost scratched them to get them to look right. Even when he was done, he wasn't satisfied. He took one look at his hair and decided to change it back how it was. Fake wet hair in a contest of strength, pathetic. The two silver medals seemed like a nice touch, though. Game time. Those ponies were no concern of his today...and not for the rest of his life. GrinCaramel thought the Iron Pony Competition would be invigorating, that it would release his emotion to adoring fans. Instead, it was a haze-induced blur. Caramel didn't even pay attention to who exactly he was opposing for which event; he just took a task and mastered it to move on to the next. Maybe he would wake up and the competition would actually be tomorrow instead; he just had to make sure he didn't lose to a dream of all things. He was not in the mood to lose, not to anypony. Hoofball kicking? Just bucked the skin off the damn thing. Horseshoe throwing? Smashed the stake in the middle with ol' Cheerilee. Lassoing? Tied the knot, whipped the lasso, and snagged the stupid chicken before the...rope-maker mare?...did. Hoof wrestling? Just made sure the horseshoes didn't leave any bruises on whatshisface. Push-ups? Took time, paced the push, and outlasted the taxi pony. What was his name again? Well, whatever it was, it wouldn't be mentioned at the end of the contest. Barrel hurdling? He just kept grinning the Grin and rocketed through them. Even the penalty he got for “nudging” a barrel (he may or may not have smashed it, he couldn't and didn't want to tell) wasn't enough to keep him from winning. And that was how it was. The crowd was split between cheering and booing, slowly turning to self-righteous jeering by the end. Whatever. He was done. No matter where they came from, they had all seen what he was and how seriously he took himself. He opted to leave the trophy alone until they left him in the field to be fully taken over by the late summer haze. His horseshoes were absolutely filthy. “So...heh heh...”, Spike's baritone wavered from the speakers, “now that you've won the competition, how do you feel?” Like I may have lost the most beautiful thing in my life to something incredibly stupid. You? “Like a million bits,” he answered. “SHUT IT, CHEATER!”, somepony from the crowd behind him shouted. “THOSE SHOES WON THOSE EVENTS, NOT YOU!” “Goodness me, Ponyville ponies love to shout. My delicate ears, darling...” “YOU BESTED MY SISTER AT HER TALENT! AT HER TALENT! CAN YOU LIVE WITH THAT?!” Caramel felt the Grin widen at those words. It had stopped being a real grin a long time ago. “O-Okay,” continued Spike. “So what do you plan to do now?” That's a damn good question, Spike. I really have no clue. “I'll just be here for whenever I'm needed,” he answered. “OH, CAN IT, YOU BULLY!” “YOU'RE DISGUSTING!” “Did he change his hair? I just noticed that, huh...NICE HAIR, YOU LITTLE JERK!” “YOU'RE NOTHING BUT A HEARTLESS THUG!” “I must say, that was frightfully unsporting.” “GO HOME, FREAK!” That was enough. Caramel turned around to face his former nightmare, brandishing his medals. Only one thing to say seemed anywhere near appropriate to him. “Oh, you're all just jealous.” The crowd looked ready to swoop down from the bleachers and prey on him...but they stopped all at once, looking to their left. Then they started cheering rabidly for some reason. “GO AND SHOW HIM WHO'S BOSS!” “Thank Celestia yer alright, big brother! Ah...Ah wuz seriously at mah wit's end, you big jerk! You...oh, pony, you look like you haven't missed a meal! Ah'm jus' glad yer back!” “WELCOME HOME, BIG BROTHER! APPLES FOREVER!” “NOW YOU'LL GET YOURS, SHOWOFF!” “TIME FOR A REAL CHAMPION TO STRUT HIS STUFF!” He looked to the perimeter of the arena: Big Macintosh had cantered up to the hoofball area, looking freshly bathed, well-fed, and...displeased. Like he had any right to look that way. The champions looked to each other wordlessly. Now you're here?! No explanation, no apology, no “Ah fell down a well an' Ah couldn't git up!” or anything?! And...oh, you have the nerve to just look away! The loser walked over to stand side-by-side his stud, or who he hoped was still his stud. He smelled freshly-cut flowers from the dirty blonde mane... “Where the hells have you been?! I've been worried sick!” Mac said nothing. “YOU'LL GET YOURS, BRUTE! I MUST SAY!” “Oh, don't be so dramatic, darling. And don't speak so plainly, it's unbecoming of a gentlepony!” “RESTART! RESTART! RESTART!” Restart, restart, restart...that's a nice word. I never thought about it before, but it's a beautiful word, I like it. I want to restart this day...not to mention your entrance! “Babe, you just disappeared. You weren't on the farm, you weren't in town, and nopony had any idea of what happened! Do you have any idea how much that freaked me--” “Ah needed a break.” Off in the distance, Caramel heard the roller coaster careen down to the earth. He felt nauseated, like he was about to wake up but instead was just slammed with adrenaline while his body was still pinned to the void. “...Well, anyway, thanks for taking the heat off me,” he whispered. “They can really get under a pony's hide when they want to.” Mac simply stood by him, sunlight glinting off the cheap glasses. They looked goofy on him, now that Caramel thought about it. So that's why the salesponies were so eager to get rid of them...but it was almost just as well, really! Mac looked like an apple-fed accountant, especially with that standoffish pout; he couldn't have asked for a better distraction from the crowd. “COME ON, LET'S START IT AGAIN ALREADY!” “THIS COMPETITION ISN'T FINISHED YET!” “RESTART! RESTART! RESTART!” Even the scorekeepers were getting ready for a one-on-one, old fashioned contest. It seemed the decision was made for both of them, even as they stood there doing absolutely nothing. Mel had used Mac's prowess as a goal to strive for during his too-short training, so the call for a rival's showdown was only fitting. This was just the final test, or a dream with an understandable twist, nothing more. Just a test, nothing more. Nothing more. “...So you wanna do this? It would be great to see what you can do.” Mac snorted. Mel felt his voice start to fail, but he knew his eyes were dry. “...Why're you being so cold? Why haven't you talked to me at all lately?” Mac looked to the right to finally meet eyes with his, evergreen and stony. Mel felt very, very itchy. “Ah'm not happy with you.” Mel felt his stomach churn. Restart, restart, restart... “...Okay, so I got hotheaded. I'll do this with you and I'll apologize to them; it'll be fine! We can all be reasonable here.” It's basically your fault, anyway. Mac just kept his face forward. This just wasn't like him, not the wild Mac he had learned to love over the year. Maybe the old one was coming back from that “break”? Either way, it didn't change the situation Mac threw at him without a word of warning. You made me worry; you did this to me. But...was it just an accident this time? “Stop ignoring me. You're...you're acting like a mare or something; it's not like you.” Without missing a beat, Mac replied: “Well, if'n Ah'm lovin' you, then Ah might as well be a mare.” ...You don't mean... “...Did you even read my letter, then?” Not that I should have needed to write it. You should have just asked me in the first place! Mac actually sneered at him. The lug beared his teeth and everything. Restart failed. “Eeyup, Ah did. An' that's 'zactly why Ah'm here.” Just like that, Mac became a strange red pony to him again. Nothing in that letter was deserving of this; he checked it two dozen times to see that it was good! He recalled each and every word right at that moment, down to the postscript! Babe, I know you won't talk to me for some reason, but I thought about what you told Junebug. You could have just asked me instead of her, but it doesn't matter now. I really don't know why I like stallions, to be honest. I never thought about it before. I suppose I was too caught up in dealing with my incomplete talent that I just didn't have time to worry. And when I put it in that light...it seemed about right. You and I have bigger problems than why we like the same sex, and I suspect we always will. Maybe it's unnatural, maybe it'll never be recognized outside of that trend we had for a while, but I really don't care. I love you, and I don't plan to stop loving you. If it's about kids, then I admit I'm not ready (I'm busy taking care of myself with everything that happened). But if you were just kidding about not being ready for them...I'll listen. If we have to work out something weird, I'll think about it. I'm serious. Please talk to me, Caramel P.S. I heard about what happened to your doll, babe. Are you okay? I can get a replacement if you want, just let me know. In retrospect, one part of that letter wasn't completely accurate. Well, two: he had already gotten a replacement two weeks ago. It was even much nicer-looking than the old one. But for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to deliver it to the farm. And once Big Mac disappeared altogether...the silly thing ended up sitting on the nightstand in his old room. Eventually, he got tired of passing by it each morning and just trashed it. “Alright, everypony!”, announced Spike. “It seems we're doing this again, but in classic style with just Caramel and Big Macintosh, two notorious athletes! We'll start with the hoofball kicking once it's set up, so please stay seated!” Mel felt September's midday sun blazing above him. He suddenly remembered that as soon as the contest was done, the Running of the Leaves would start being organized; the next third of the orchard would soon be due for harvest as well; then the oranges would need to be harvested by wintertime, that would be strange. He felt himself deliberately avoiding looking to the left. So he looked behind him instead, toward the crowd. “I'm not too happy with you, either.” Mel heard no response while the arena was cleaned and prepared for another gauntlet of events. Butterflies flew haphazardly in front of his face as he kept thinking of autumn. By the time he had run out of planner items, the stage was set. “This is the moment I'm sure most ponies have been waiting for!”, bellowed Spike. “All-natural powerhouse Big Mac versus the new and improved Caramel for the true winner of the Iron Pony Trophy. It's a well known fact they're in a relationship, so this could be--” “KNOCK HIM DEAD, BIG MAC!” “DON'T LET FEELINGS GET IN THE WAY! HE NEEDS TO KNOW HIS PLACE!” “O-Oh, my...I don't remember the last Iron Pony Competition being this nasty.” “GOOOOOOOOO APPLES! B-But you be sure t'play nice now, big brother! You too, Caramel!” “GET REVENGE FOR MY DAUGHTER, BOY!” “--interesting...” No kidding, Spike. I don't even know what's happening anymore. ...Where is our relationship now? I guess you're going to tell me with this. “Just like before, the contestants may begin when ready.” Spike turned away from the microphone to release a loud, heavy sigh. Caramel turned to have his hind legs facing the skinless hoofball. He felt the power coiled in his legs constrict and vibrate down to his hooves, the metal shoes enslaved to his command. The strange power astride the crowd's jeers suddenly reminded him of just how inescapable his situation was: he was a horse, Big Mac was his angry-for-no-good-reason boyfriend, and ponies judged him for what he was able to do. He was past the point of no return...and so he bucked the ball with all his strength. He and Mac had bucked the hoofballs at roughly the same time, tearing through the air like they had been catapulted. Both of their arcs sailed high above the deciduous tree acreage, finally falling down onto...somewhere. The scorekeepers started to fly after them, but Spike called them back. Caramel turned and noticed a thin layer of skin sitting in tatters north of where the second hoofball stood. “L-Let's just call that a draw,” Spike said to a gaping crowd, which began to moan in inconsistent, disorganized bursts. Both Mac and Mel snorted and walked to the next event without a word. The shoe throwing was over before it even started, both contestants whipping their colorful weapons clean through the posts and toward the edge of Sweet Apple Acres. It was at that point the repair crew announced they were leaving the strength meter broken and removing that event from the trials. The boos from the crowd did not seem to dissuade them. “That's another draw.” The barrel hurdling was curious in that ponies weren't sure how the bulky farm pony would navigate between them. Caramel offered the suggestion of moving them further apart, which was met with pure derision from the crowd. Big Macintosh said nothing, galloping between the standard setup, of course without a single error. Roars of adulation met him at the finish line, which were answered with the Grin. With a deep breath, Caramel pressed his hooves into the ground and began weaving through the barrels himself, focusing on accuracy instead of speed. He finished only a split second after his opponent, having not even breathed on the hurdles. He was met with silence. “U-Um...”, stalled Spike, “The difference is so small that--” “THAT'S BALONEY! BIG MAC WON AND YOU KNOW IT!” “GIVE HIM THE POINT, I'M DYING OVER HERE!” “Darling, please...” “Um, Spike, sugar? I think you should be a little more picky with these two. Jus' bein' fair is all.” Caramel finally dared to look at his inscrutable boyfriend, who glared back at him without a trace of remorse. “...Okay, so just tell me why you're mad at me, please?”, he whispered. “It's not at all like you to be angry when you're winning.” Or to bore a hole through my heart with your eyes. Macintosh's glare became bafflingly indignant, eyebrows raised in...disbelief? Spike the Judge kept audibly deliberating what to do. Caramel wished Spike was louder, loud enough to drown out the entire valley if it could be managed. “...Yer unbelievable. Simply un-bel-iev-a-ble.” What?! Why would you even...?! “Huh?” “Jus' think 'bout it fer once, jus' try. You little traitor.” Traitor...traitor, traitor, traitor, traitor, traitor. The word ricocheted around his skull, ripped through his body, and left him drenched in cold sweat. He didn't like that word, not at all. He was a traitor. He was a traitor...? How did he betray anypony? What was happening?! “What the hells are you--” “We the Judges...I mean, I the Judge declare that Big Macintosh is the winner of the Barrel Hurdling!” The crowd roared to a smiling champion. Mel was alone...but he supposed he saw this coming. All the signs were there, fragrant and cackling mindlessly at him. His medals felt heavier now. Maybe he was turning over in his sleep? "Traitor?" "Eeyup," spat Mac without looking at him. Traitor...he had thrown that word around his head a few months ago. But he was just struggling to accept who Mac really was. What reason did the pony have to call him that? "YOU ROCK, MACINTOSH!" The scandalous pony smiled. Who was the real traitor here? “...So is this your plan? Upstage me again and run off into town?” “Mah plan,” whispered Mac darkly, “is t'show everypony jus' who you are. An' Ah know how t'do that jus' dandy. They're already on mah side.” Mac waved to the crowd, which received him like the adoring public for a prince. Mel was wondering why glasses were necessary for athletics like this...but he now saw they were just to make the insufferable pony look innocent. Mel saw the Grin flash on the stupid lug's face again. He had to stay angry before...before he... Daddy, it hurts. “Well then,” he countered, “I guess I'll have to expose you, too.” The Grin vanished. At least now he had the upper hoof; Mac almost looked scared! “Whut?” Let's see...direct? No. Subtle's always best. That's why you're doing it, isn't it? “...You don't normally chew flowers. You've picked up a new habit.” As soon as he said it, all his remaining doubt evaporated. Mac snorted, but he expected that. “If the contestants would please make their way to the lassoing area?!” Mac and Mel lassoed the chicken simultaneously, making the crowd panic as she turned blue. Mel nickered at her to make her pull away from him, causing Mac's lasso to slacken and loosen its hold...? “Caramel wins the lassoing event!” “WHAT WAS THAT?! THAT HAS TO BE--” “Any sounds made by the contestants are completely legal, especially as a tie breaker,” corrected Spike. “It's trickier than it looks, too; noisemaking can backfire. It's just too bad Big Mac didn't think of that!” Big Mac grinned. The deviant had loosened the rope to make him look bad, no doubt. Little Mel wasn't worried, though. He just had to take one accusing look at the crowd, focusing on the sun-kissed mane being tossed in the breeze. Mac followed his gaze, looking just as cocky as before...until the brute's clueless mug fell into exactly what he knew it would: A big, dumb, helpless gape of horror. So this was real. He wasn't crazy, but instead this was real. He forced breath into his lungs. What the hells has happened to my life? Of all the reactions Caramel wanted, this was what he hoped and dreamed wouldn't be the truth. With each step to the next event, he made himself breathe in, breathe out. It was hard to breathe. It was hard to think. If only today were a dream, it wouldn't be so hard to just smile and forget about it. Let it be a dream. Let it be a dream. But it couldn't be a dream, because dreams knew when to stop...although he still had the weirdest feeling that he might wake up. From what did he need to wake, though? He had won, breathe in, breathe out. The restart failed, but he won anyway. What this dream-contest trying to tell him something? He had worked so hard for everything he had gotten – all in the name of holding down a damn job – and he ended up using it all to fight against something he didn't even understand. Something that came out of nowhere, something he should have seen coming would never leave him alone now. Breathe in, breathe out. And on top of it all, something else was scraggling at the edge of his mind, trying to escape into the summer haze. Maybe I'm forgetting something? No, no, that's ridiculous. Maybe there's something to all of this that I just can't think of...? Oh, whatever, whatever! It doesn't change anything! I'll just focus on the game. Breathe, Caramel, breathe. The push-ups were a nonstop crowd rant featuring Mac and Mel straining on the ground. The former was exaggerating each rep by either doing them very quickly or flexing his muscles as he fell. Mel envisioned Mac thinking that with enough time, he'd find some way to cheat or berate or manipulate or otherwise degrade both of them while the whole crowd was watching. But the latter decided to encourage this instead, keeping his own push-ups simple and undaunted. With enough time, Mac would flop to the ground in need of help, she would call out, and Mac would have to look back while the whole crowd was watching. One hundred push-ups later, nothing had happened at all. Mac could only try to keep going, and Mel was praying his legs would hold out until the end of the contest. No cheating, no moment of weakness on either side...and so he finally collapsed on the ground. “Big Macintosh wins the push-up event!” The crowd cheered. Mel forced himself to get up, each blurred shout from the crowd reminding him of the stakes. He had to at least hold his own, or he couldn't force the opportunity to win his dignity. He had to silence those devilish ponies surrounding him. And those miles away from him. Above him. Below him. Inside his own head. I hate this I hate this I can't stand it I can't stand you right now you're ruining me again I love you but I can't do this Gods help me...what did I do?! What have I forgotten?! The Grin flashed from the strange red pony...at last aimed for him and nopony else but him. All his memories of it returned to overwhelm him: the Grin after he was catapulted from a tree; the Grin just before the shoe throwing; the Grin on the first day of trying to figure out his problem; the Grin; the Grin; the Grin... Breathe in, breathe out. Caramel realized it was the same every time. Every tooth, every crinkle of Mac's eyes never changed in the slightest. Even when he himself did it, the Grin was always an exact copy of the first, until today. And that was when he realized nothing had changed at all. Not until today. Breathe in...breathe out...Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Taking in the obnoxious sight, Caramel felt a tiny, stifling part of him snap in two. He inhaled deeply - down to his diaphragm - as blood rushed to his head. He was done with subtle scheming. He glared murderously at Big Macintosh and stomped, pulverizing the ground beneath him into dust. The crowd roared with delight, and the Grin broadened. “You're fucking dead, philanderer.” The Grin died. Everything outside the field lost meaning for Caramel. With each tug of the rope with his teeth, with each hay bale he rushed across the arena, his sense of self cracked a little more. At the same time, each tug and rush incited his opponent into a fiercer and fiercer campaign to punish him. And he didn't care. “GO GET HIM, BIG MAC! SHOW THAT...that...wow, you're really looking angry there. Oh, sheesh, both of you. D-Don't get carried away! It's just a game, remember!” “Daddy, wat the hulls are you--” “Sweetie, don't draw attention to yourself...” He struggled to stay focused on the events themselves, even if it made him lose...but he felt the haze's soothing protection get swallowed with him into a mindless, decadent rage. A rage that his own lover had unknowingly demanded was unleashed and feeding on both of them. And he didn't care. “B-Big Brother? Caramel? Jus' ease up there! It's all in good fun, after all! Hah hah...Bloom, go find Twilight, wouldja?” “No need, AJ, I'm here. I know how to stop them if I have to.” His face twisted in tandem with his opponent's as the arena slowly corrupted into a bloodless battlefield. Who he was, what he had become melted under the searing heat rising from the pretty hellscape, broke with each stomp on the ground. And he didn't care. “The contestants should remember that this is a clean competition! Keep the horseplay to a-AAAAAAAGHA-OKAYOKAYokayI'llbequietjustdon'tcomethisway!” He wasn't playing for sport; he wasn't playing to win; he wasn't even playing to prove a point. “M-My dear, they're going to break each other's bones with roughhousing like that! Is this legal?” He was playing to finally make that beautiful, horrible bully pay for what he did. Who cared what the score was? So what if Junebug stayed quiet? And what did it matter if nopony in the town ever though well of him again?! None of that mattered anymore...and it was too late to take any of it back. Restarts were for losers. Hoof wrestling was the final event. After Twilight made both of them calm down (a couple buckets of ice cold water to the face), Caramel set the medals down behind him and stood opposite Macintosh around the stump. Here was his chance. He would finally overhaul the shoeless horse and show him that his heart didn't have room for a cheater. Hooves out, fury blazing, and strength funneled in his front right leg sealed his decision. He didn't feel itchy anymore, not even as the crowd started shouting again. His leg wrapped around the other without a shred of affection. He did have to appreciate the raw power humming in the pony's muscles, coiled from an unfathomably deep source. It was all he could find to praise for a pony like that. “BREAK THE TIE, BIG MAC! MAKE HIM PAY!” “Oh, Ah will...”, Mac whispered only to Mel. “You have no right to say that to me.” “PUSH THROUGH IT, KEEP GOING! YOU'VE ALMOST GOT IT!” “Oh, don' Ah now?! After whut you did, Ah reckon Ah can say whut Ah like!” Caramel stopped holding back and strained against Big Macintosh, bringing their legs back to equilibrium. “Enlighten me,” he snarled, “just what did I do to earn the title of 'traitor'?” “DON' GIVE HIM AN INCH, BIG BROTHER!” “APPLEBLOOM!” “Don' be an idiot, Caramel Shine. That damn letter is how you earned it!” “Y-You're making no sense!”, he protested. “All I wrote in that letter is what I thought about...wait. I never told you my last name, how could you possibly--” “Lemme put it this way,” drawled Mac. “Yer daddy's got a very distinctive name.” “What?!”, blustered Caramel. “The hells does that have to do with anything?! I mean, the only place I wrote his full name was...” He faltered, almost letting Big Macintosh win. All he could see was the hatred seething from his stud's eyes, bright and wavering like so many nightmares. “You have a lot of explainin' t'do.” SideviewsSalt Shaker waited patiently as she was served outside the commoner's cafe. The waiter seemed to understand her needs, which was a refreshing contrast with the rest of the muted town's self-service attitude. She needed that contrast; she hated the carelessness that surrounded her new home. More ponies like him needed to live in places like this to make them bearable. It only made sense. “Ah, my love!”, Money Mover called to her from the south. “So horribly sorry, that pink nightmare of a mare caught me by surprise again. A true night...mare? O-ho, that just hit me upside the head!” Late again, darling. This keeps getting worse with each engagement! I'm starting to wish you were the waiter here to give you some perspective! “Not to worry, dear. I just settled in myself.” Half an hour ago... Money sat down opposite her but neglected to peruse the menu. He had ordered the same entree for the entire summer, as if his entire world would fall apart if he dared to order something more substantial. If ponies here prepared food for substance in the valley, then she and he might as well embrace it! But no such luck, it seemed. Perhaps this autumn will be different. With those two rowdies broken up, everything will shift again. New business, new potential connoisseurs, new opportunities for...just a moment of what we once had... “Oh, did you change your hair, darling?”, asked Money. “It suits you just so!” Salt made herself smile. The waiter refilled her water glass with a careless hum. “Yes, thank you, my love. It's nice to know you noticed.” At least those deviants were honest. I can't even access my own husband... ...No! Autumn will be different; I will make it so! He'll be enraptured with me yet, only for a sprig of inspiration. Something outside the nominal... Of course. Of course! “...so that's how she managed to get me lodged in a hollow tree! Hahaha! Can you imagine, love? My pampered self at the mercy of foliage; it slayed me to no end!” Hmm. To be at the mercy of something greater than yourself, darling...I like that. No, focus, Saltine! “Money, dear?” “How much?” The waiter chuckled; Salt forced herself to recognize that before continuing. “No, you silly pony. What do you make of the Iron Pony debacle last week?” Her lime green stallion scrunched his face up in thought. It was the same gorgeous face she crushed on for months before finally asking him to give a tour of the Canterlot Premiere Bank. Discussing the watercolors hung throughout the establishment, chiding the mindless gazers, even introducing the concept of fine-crystalline salt: a nip of it from her prize sample...and the result sat in front of her now, as it had for seventeen years. Perhaps this silly face would be her ticket out of this rut. “It's...tricky, certainly. For me, it surprised me how much publicity the two got the day after. I was sure the novelty had worn off as soon as...as...” “Caramel,” answered that ubiquitous orange mare. What was her name? “R-Right, thank you, miss. Anyway, as soon as Caramel unveiling his cutie mark to the valley blew over, it seemed...blown over. The trending world moved on like it always does. So all the press the break-up received simply seemed unlikely. Am I wrong?” He had you tripping over yourself to donate to Appleloosans. And you weren't the only one; he had most of our friends dipping into the principle! I was surprised the competition didn't have more reporters, with only the one speaking up in the name of modesty, of all things! I swear, you've become a mite oblivious. ..Did I just think 'a mite' to myself? Gracious, this town is infectious. “Ponies can surprise you, love. Heavens knows you have.” ...I said that out loud. Oh dear. I must be losing my grip. Money of course looked highly concerned. The waiter and even the farm mare – Apple-something? - peered at her with discomfort. “Darling, is everything alright?” Tell him tell him tell him quit fussing over prudence and say what you feel! Who cares if the whole town hears it; what really matters? This is your marriage here! Tell the truth! “...Oh, yes, it's nothing. I just noticed how much we've changed.” Spineless. So much for your mission of love. “It's staggering, isn't it?”, said Money with muted awe. “I'm not half the pony I was when we came here, and you're...” Salt feigned an interested gaze. “...even lovelier than before, yes, my dear! This valley just swept us into the seasons without a care, always having something unexpected happen at the strangest times!” But then something unexpected happened. The farm mare walked over with her chair in her teeth, set it down next to them, and made herself comfortable with the sunniest smile on her face. “Mind if Ah throw in mah two bits?” The mare stuck out her hooves to both Money and Salt. They were filthy. “Th' name's Applejack, pleased t'meet you two.” Salt gingerly gave her own hoof to shake, noticing that her husband was less hesitant to do so. That walking cotton candy ball must have influenced him more than she feared. “Pleased to meet you, dear,” started Salt. “I am Saltine Shaker, and this is my dear husband Money Mover. But this is a private conversation, if you please--” “Ah'm sorry t'intrude on y'all,” she said while looking straight at them, “but Ah jus' cain't sit by while two ponies who love each other muck 'round not sayin' whut they really mean. Ah've made that mistake before, an' Ah'm not gonna make it 'gain.” The silver Unicorn shared a glance with her husband, who seemed completely befuddled. Even when she pressed him to address her by way of a hard stare, he simply threw his hooves up and bugged his eyes in a helpless shrug. It seemed she would have to take care of this herself. Yes. She would have to take care of his type of acquaintance. “I'm afraid we have no idea what you're saying, dear,” she stated forcefully. “Well, s'like this,” Applejack continued without a hint of trepidation. “Ah can tell you were fibbin' clear as day, Ms. Shaker, an' you were doin' it with a 'make nice or everythin's ruined' face to boot. Fer th' sake o' yer husband...fer th' sake o' yerself, jus' tell th' truth an' have done with it.” Salt didn't even have to look back to Money to know he was nervous. She was preparing to rebut the audacity of this Applejack to prescribe anything for a relationship which had nothing to do with her, when-- “Shoot, if'n those two blockheads had done it, then maybe it wouldn't've turned out that way...”, said Applejack with her eyes to the ground. Those two blockheads? Where in Equestria did that...ah. A-ha! I knew I had seen you before. Yes...over in the fields after the Cataclysm. Perhaps a different approach is in order... Saltine threw aside her disgust at the situation, replacing it with her most sympathetic eyes and a slightly wan smile. “It was tragic what happened, wasn't it?”, she offered sweetly. The rude mare returned Salt's gaze despondently, almost suspiciously...and then shut her eyes as she swallowed. Excellent. “Ah jus' don' git it,” Applejack finally admitted after a short wait. “Those two weren't th' most experienced pair – or th' least troubled fer that matter – but it seemed like they were better than that. Ah'm not usually wrong 'bout this stuff! Ah coulda sworn they woulda known better than t'behave that way.” “Yes, it was a frightfully belligerent scene at the competition--” “Wha?”, asked Applejack suddenly. “No, no, Ah meant fer th' long term! Those two had problems that were haunting them fer th' longest time, an' fer some stupid reason, they decided t'burden their love with them. They weren't even together fer that long! An' now...Ah've never seen mah brother this upset, not even back in the spring.” Out of curiosity, Salt glanced past her beloved to spy a table outside Sugarcube Corner. She couldn't stand that establishment, for more than one reason. A decent summary of her contempt sat on the plate between two ponies: a small pile of daisies liberally covered in chocolate. Disgraceful. At least they bothered to put tables outside with the year's changes: there was no excuse for poor service for any business. Nevertheless, a large red stallion nuzzling a sun-colored mare hovered obnoxiously over the table. He seems fine to me. “Now don' you be fooled by that one,” spat Applejack without warning. “He was...” Salt had to smirk as Applejack faltered; obviously, she was realizing just how intimate she was being in front of two complete strangers. This pony would not make a competent therapist, not with that all-on-the-table philosophy. As surreptitiously as she could, she checked Applejack's plate from the other table to see if there were traces of salt on it. “...well, let's jus' say we all lost some sleep fer a few nights. It wuz nonstop misery tearin' at all our hearts; but then he up an' courts June like it's th' summertime! Out o' th' blue! As if that would solve his problem, great skies. That pair over there won't last, believe you me.” Telling herself it was purely out of attentiveness this time, she spied the pair again: they did have warm, giddy smiles gracing their faces, mirrored corner for corner to each other. If the smile on the stallion was actually fake, then he was a convincing actor. But at the same time, the contorted faces the same pony was pulling the week before...to be smiling so quickly after a scene like that would be suspicious. Money said nothing. It was like he wasn't even there. “Ah haven't even seen Caramel since that day. But Ah cain't imagine that he's doin' much better. Probably still in that house all this week...” Suddenly, Money snapped back into reality. Or at least, it had seemed like he had left reality before. Yet another mystery to add to the list... “Oh, I can tell you that, miss. Young Caramel ventured to Canterlot for a while, saying he would return here for the Running of the Leaves. It wasn't clear why he went there or why exactly he felt the need to leave, but the Valley Chronicle covered the whole thing; didn't you read--” Applejack softly grunted in what could only be discomfort. Were she in her position, Salt wouldn't much care for reading gossip either. “--Ah. My apologies,” offered Money. “N-Not a problem,” answered Applejack. “It's jus' that Ah have enough t'think 'bout without all that nonsense. Ah really should jus' buck up an' git a copy, though; Ah cain't afford t'be uninformed much longer.” As if hit by lightning, Salt changed from regarding Applejack with a kind of irritated pity to a poignant astonishment. This mare was unabashedly honest. She had told herself fervently that the language of truth was the most beautiful of all, even when she told the most pathetic lies. But here across from her sat the face of honesty, and it seemed so very...awkward. Honesty would be nothing if not awkward; that was the lesson here. Apparently, this Applejack couldn't be bothered to dress up her speech with smooth little half-truths or pretty understatements, unless it was necessary, like before. What an odd pony! What must it be like to live like that, to be like that? Real honesty... She gazed wistfully at her husband. It's worth a shot. She still needs to learn, as does he. “...so Ah'll be fine once Ah figure out whut t'do. That's all.” “That sounds perfectly reasonable,” said Money. “I wish you luck on mending these bridges.” “Thank you kindly, Mr. Mover.” The pensive mare took a deep breath as she shook out of her reverie, noticing the other two at the table glancing aimlessly around them at various objects...but most of their eye contact was concentrated on her, albeit intermittently. That could only mean one thing. Great: now she was the awkward one. Well, this is as good a time as any. “Well,” started Salt, “this was a refreshing chat we had. But before we part ways, Miss Applejack, there are a few things I want to say.” Applejack leaned forward slightly before saying: “Yes, Ms. Shaker?” Salt also leaned forward – toward Money. “You never listen to me anymore; you run off at the oddest occasions to go Celestia knows where; we barely have any quality time together, and when we do, you're late for it without fail; we've stayed in this valley for longer than we need or even than we're welcome; out daughter's so alienated from us that we can't even talk to her anymore; little Toodles is constantly ill and depressed, yet you ignore him as if he weren't even there; Honda can't manage your unpredictable monitoring anymore...” She deliberately paused, taking the opportunity for a deep breath. “...And perhaps the most telling of all, I did not change my hair! How oblivious can you be?! It's...it's not even vaguely different, darling!” Levitating her water glass, she coaxed the flavorless liquid down her system as she observed the fruits of her work. Applejack was tight-lipped and wide-eyed with a bold blush painted on her cheeks, evidently not daring to say a word. And her dearest lover looked like he was about to faint. She coolly set her glass back down on the table. “Thank you for listening, Miss Applejack,” she said with grandeur. “I have to say, young Caramel and Macintosh lying to each other is understandable. After all...honesty has its consequences.” Money noisily forced breath into his lungs, his terribly flattering blush growing darker to match his hide more closely. Applejack seemed at a loss for a response. “...W-Well,” the farm mare finally said after a minute, “it's clear Ah'm jus' intrudin' now. Ah'll leave you two t'yer lunch....hahaha...” Saltine could tell that Applejack was deliberately cleaning up slowly to avoid any more conversation. Luckily for that mare, she needed to say nothing else. At least, not to her. As soon as it was just the two of them left, Money's breathing slowed and calmed completely as he furrowed his brow. Salt hoped he was trying to figure out what to say and not developing a fever. “I...”, started the silly pony, “I s-suppose we have a lot to discuss, my love.” Saltine rested her head on her hooves and glanced a final time at the Sugarcube Corner pair. The sun-colored mare wasn't smiling anymore, staring at some other abomination of a sweet. She smiled at her husband. “Yes, dearest, we do.” Junebug frowned at the empty plate between the two of them. The chocolate was too rich to be enjoyable for too long, but Mac certainly enjoyed it, if his lip-smacking was any indication. She herself thought the daisies were too dry for the snack to be worth it. And she would be dense to not realize what else was dry between them. It was not by accident that she wanted this treat when Pinkie Pie was throwing a party on the other side of town. “June?” June instantly felt invigorated at the sweet, rumbling voice. She wouldn't have admitted it before, but that was always the case, without fail. On reflection, she would have sought him out to ask him on a date after enough time had passed since Iron Pony; but she didn't expect the wonderful stallion to ask her out only four days after the fact! She counted herself lucky, if for no other reason than getting to see Mac's good side more often. On the other hoof, it was painfully clear that this was merely a side of Macintosh, that the admittedly entrancing smile on his face came at a price. Part of that price was not having the luxury of long thought. “Yeah, Mac? This is just a perfect day for this, isn't it?” “Eeyup. You, uh...you doin' alright, babe?” This was the same problem as yesterday: she had to guide him along the right path, else history would repeat itself. “I'm doing great! But I have to admit, this snack we got is a little--” “Wait here.” Junebug started a little. This was not the same as yesterday. He seemed almost panic-stricken as he got up to go into the bakery. Maybe she looked bored, so he was trying to impress her? Maybe it was something entirely unrelated? Whatever the case, she suspected he was about to get a cupcake lovingly topped with swirling, bright frosting and possibly garnished with a morning glory flowerhead. And he would do it all with the same, sunniest smile. What could she do? “Psst!” Junebug whipped her head in the direction of the colt's call but saw nothing. She was simply staring at the ponies in front of Quills & Sofas, looking like a frightened rabbit for seemingly nopony in particular. Satisfied that she wasn't the one being called, she turned her head back to face forward...and beheld something that shouldn't have existed anymore: Smartypants sat in front of her, slightly nudging the chocolate-stained plate in the center. It was sitting right on top of her copy of the Valley Chronicle. This...this was destroyed by Caramel, wasn't it? Just the sight of it reminds me of Twilight all crazy-maned, eugh. Yeah; Mac made a bit stink about it when it happened. The only time he mentioned his name after that day...What the hells is it doing here? Simply being made aware of the doll's presence subconsciously made her hearing more sensitive to lower noises. As she heard the sound of hooves begin to bore through the atmosphere from the bakery, she quickly snatched Smartypants and threw 'her' around the side of the building, making a mental note to retrieve it once Mac was out of the line of sight. Although, as soon as the sound dissipated and Mac finally came out with the sweet in tow, it occurred to her she had no idea when that would be. That, and... ...Why did I do that? “Ooh!”, she made sure to exclaim at the sight of the frosted...brownie? Unusual, but she supposed worse confectionery ideas existed. It probably tasted sinful, despite looking like an accident. Predictably, Big Mac grinned as he sat it down. Unpredictably, he said: “They jus' begged me t'take it from them! Cain't imagine why; looks delicious.” Junebug glanced to the kitchen obscured by the faux-candy walls, trying to imagine what the hells could have happened to make a frosted brownie unwanted. She found she couldn't imagine anything, but just the effort helped the phantom of that patchwork donkey fade from her mind. But if that were all she did, she knew it wouldn't be enough. Augh, I'm gonna blurt it out at this rate! Come on, June, you can figure this out...um...distractions, distractions, right. What would distract me from this? Ever careful not to betray her thoughts, she picked up her half of the brownie and took a small bite. It tasted like she was brained by a bag of sugar; maybe that was why the Cakes wanted to get rid of it. Then again, the over-sweet part came from the frosting; all she had to do was scrape it off and it was fine. Funnily enough, it seemed fitting for the scene in which she found herself too often. Sickeningly sweet amid bitter times...like an over-thorned rose in the center of a field of weeds. Inevitably, the odd plant out would be the undesired plant, and thus the rose would become the weed. But all it would take is a simple snip of secateurs to sever the shrub, and then maybe the flower could be saved... Of course! “Mac, babe?” “Eeyup?”, crooned the oblivious lug. “...You ever miss the summer we had?” Mac frowned, undoubtedly in confusion, while Junebug compromised with herself by stealing a glance toward the hidden doll. She couldn't actually tell if it were still there behind the corner; but then again, she couldn't see why anypony would whisk it away. She still had to look there despite the futility to calm herself, maybe take a deep breath. Yes. Everything would be fine. Everything would be fine. Mac would remember the confusing summer haze, and everything would be fine. “Ah guess a little. Ah don' miss all th' work we had t'do.” “I hear that,” said Junebug. “But I have to admit, it was wild what we got those rock-needles to do.” Mac's smile returned; Junebug could almost smell the mid-June dirt off of him with that smile, the very first patch of real dirt they recovered out of the unearthly terrain. “Whut wuz wild wuz you turnin' 'em into our ticket out. We were ready t'stomp all that crud out bit by bit...but then you up an' poured some water where yer little garden used t'be...” Junebug blushed, but not strictly out of flattery. “I was half-asleep, Mac; I thought my flowers were just covered in dust or something ridiculous like that.” She chuckled softly. “The only reason it worked--” “--Wuz cuz it wuz water that wuzn't touched by chaos, Ah remember. You don' hafta explain it every time, babe, heh heh!” Her blush grew deeper and darker. “...It was only an accident.” “But that 'accident' saved our hides. You should be proud, sugar! Ah still don' git why you won't tell anypony.” The flower mare allowed herself to smirk. "Oh...I don't want everypony going crazy over me. Oh, speaking of going crazy..." With practiced ease, she started talking on autopilot. She was used to doing it when working at the flower shop with Rose and company, gabbing about whatever happened to whoever. But this time, it really helped her reflect on her 'accident': that clumsy, but admittedly defining moment in her life...and in Equestria's history. She bore the trauma of the cataclysm itself without too much strain – at least not compared to everypony else – but it was the complete lack of natural plant life around her that tore her up inside. All of her precious stems and petals were devoured in the roar of forced decay. It wasn't until her slip-up that the jagged stone, in front of her then-dilapidated house, melted into the rich brown with which she was familiar. Then, as if it were icing on one of Pinkie's cakes, a cluster of seeds manifested and planted themselves in the soil. All she and the rest of Ponyville – the rest of Equestria – had to do was track down their purest water to retrieve their soil from the same curse that robbed it so greedily. “...so then Rose decided it just wasn't worth the trouble and left the poor boy alone. Oh, look here on page five!” Of course, this had to be balanced with using the pure water to drink...but not a moment too soon, the Pegasi managed to eke out the first rainclouds in two weeks, one for each community. With an entire reservoir of pure water available, ponies were able to sate their thirst and start reducing the corruption on the land in earnest. All because of a sleepy act of habit. “...but that's just silly, Mac! Brownies are always good. And don't take that from me; take it from your taste buds. They should have just left it bare.” She decided to simply act surprised when the other ponies noticed her garden with fertile soil, setting the pail next to it as an obvious clue; having too much attention on her just never sat well with her. She planned on telling nopony whatsoever...That was, until Big Macintosh came along and undoubtedly saw right through her. “...Ugh, alright, fine! Hahaha...it was nice being the one who salvaged the soil, I admit it. Why wouldn't it be nice, really? O-Oh, hey, that reminds me of...” It was two weeks after Caramel left, so Junebug wasn't sure how to relate to her sudden investigator. But the simple fact she had to consider their relationship was telling enough to her. She couldn't speak for him exactly, but she had to admit to some repressed interest at the time, to put it mildly. The only safe option she could see was to foster the new plants given to them by chance; he agreed to keep her secret, although they did talk about it in depth when it was safe. As much as she didn't like it, as much as it confused her...she deeply enjoyed it and achieved a deeper sense of peace, just from being next to him. It became a summer outside of time, making the future uncertain yet never worth pushing away. Even though that was exactly what they did. “...but that's all I have to say about it. By the way, where were you last week?” Junebug stopped herself from looking back at where Smartypants was concealed again. She was seeing reminders of their decision everywhere today: the doll was thrown aside like they had thrown their connection aside once Caramel returned. The void that was made that day wasn't filled even now. She still had to find random targets of conversation to gloss over it, even to herself when she was alone. It was pathetic, but it seemed unavoidable unless something drastic happened. Something else drastic, that is. ...Wait. What did she just say? Uh oh. Mac's face held no smile now. And she knew exactly why that was. She put the paper down below the table. “...Ah already told you: it's private.” Oh, is it so private that you can't tell your own girlfriend? Is that really how it is?! You're so...oooooh crud, this is not good, not good at all. Me and my big mouth. “I-I'm sorry, really. It's just--” “Don', June. Jus' don' even.” The bakery was oddly quiet. For some silly reason, Junebug found herself hoping the Cakes weren't eavesdropping on them. I really don't see why this is such a big deal! It's not like you're the mischievous type, so you should just tell me and have done with it! I can tell you hate keeping this secret, too! Why won't you just open up to me? “...So...” “So whut?” It seemed his humor wasn't coming back easily. At that moment, Junebug was struck with the strangest inspiration. Although she wasn't prepared to give up what was given to her – albeit under awful circumstances – she thought it made sense to raise the stakes a little. Maybe then some shadow of intimacy could be restored between them. “...So are we never going to be able to talk about it?”, she asked plainly. “June...!”, Big Macintosh growled. “I'm serious! We can't just gossip about random things all the time! We need to...share our lives, you know?” She kept herself from adding 'starting with that trip you took.' “Ah don' need t'share that. An' none o' yer business why! It's...” Junebug shuddered as Mac took a very heavy sigh. “...Ah don' mean nothin' by it, babe. Honest. Ah jus' gotta keep this t'mahself fer however long. An' besides...”, he said with a sudden shift in tone, moving from defensive to offensive, so to speak, “...it's still early fer us. You can gossip 'bout yer friends all you want, an' Ah'm happy t'listen. S'no big deal.” If it weren't for how we got together, I wouldn't think it was a big deal, either. Four days and you're my boyfriend? I'm not stupid; I know a rebound when I see one. Well, we'll see about that. Junebug recoiled at her last thought. Since when did she think thoughts like that? It was horrible what happened, and she dearly hoped that Caramel would return to Ponyville and not wallow away in Canterlot. Then again, if there were a place to wallow...No, it made no difference! Caramel was her friend, and what she and Mac were doing was just weird. The only thing about it was that she wasn't about to stop it... I guess good and evil really do walk side by side. “...you an' him are so alike, Ah suppose s'no wonder Ah picked you. Yer both so damn pushy.” “E-excuse me?!” Mac jumped at her voice, looking just as surprised as she felt. “U-Uh, nothin'! Nothin' at all, jus'...haha, me an' mah big mouth...” Junebug was almost bowled over at the irony of that sentence; let alone the fact she wasn't buying it for a second. Frankly, she was surprised he mentioned his last relationship. Thinking over her options, she recognized how she stepped on unfriendly territory earlier, and so decided to just call it even. “Haha...yeah. You know what, babe?” “E-Eey...yeah?” “You're right. It's no big deal.” She didn't bother internalizing her emotion this time, laughing mindlessly with her stud like nothing really mattered. After all, if she played her cards right...nothing really would. She just wished she didn't have to play at all; but if she weren't playing, somepony else would be. They both finally decided their lunch date was over and got up. Having paid the requisite bits earlier, they decided to have a short stroll by the north side of the valley. This was the relationship...well, if it could be called that, that she remembered and strived for with each tactic. Just the two of them enjoying themselves, not a word needing to be spoken...why talk and ruin the moment? “WHUT?!” Case in point. Instantly remembering what she had forgotten, and filled with dread at the realization, Junebug turned around to see Big Macintosh gob-smacked at the stuffed donkey toy lying face-first in a mud pile. She hoped with all her heart that he wouldn't turn around and prompt her for an answer with those damn entrancing eyes, green with indignant beauty. She couldn't take those eyes, not when they bore right into her soul like that. She...she just couldn't risk it; she had to act before it happened. “What's that thing?” Spike wasn't truly sure of anything anymore. That little nugget of comfort had been crushed underhoof when he was transformed in the springtime. Granted, he had requested it, but it seemed ever since that confusing day, everything else became even more confusing in a series of falling dominoes. But no matter how confused he was or would become, he had to do his part for the community. That was exactly why he was bothering to put on his humiliating dragon scale suit as he ascended in the balloon to comment on the Running of the Leaves, even though hardly anypony was there and he had abandoned that form and all it made him suffer. That, and Rarity made it for him a long time ago. He wasn't about to break a promise. A few dozen meters above the ground, he could see the unfortunate situation even more clearly: the thirty-something ponies sick from some Everfree pathogen left the track with only half of the needed amount to make the leaves fall. It was made especially poignant in that the cataclysm made the leaves burst into multihued flame before said flame consumed all the trees throughout Equestria. Only by the grace of his fight alongside Twilight and their friends were they able to stop the upheaval in time to save whatever sapling trees remained – the only saplings strong enough to resist the abominable energy coursing through the land. No matter how long he lived, he would remember the fury of Draconequii when they joined forces. If he wasn't able to save Twilight...he wasn't sure what would have happened. He wasn't sure how he could live with himself if that were what really happened. But well, that had nothing to do with making leaves fall from trees, did it? Nope, not really. ...But that didn't stop him from thinking of it, especially since the solution to this predicament wasn't showing itself. Worse came to worse, he could run with them; he had the bulk for it now. And it wasn't like he wasn't used to running...Revolt and Discord made sure he was fit for any marathon. It only took the shallowest thought of Revolt to make him shiver. It wasn't so much a sexless Draconequus itself that seemed so jarring to him: it was what it implied. If Revolt was sexless, and Discord was male...there was a chance of a female running around somewhere in the world. Twilight could keep telling him he was crazy all day, but it wouldn't make a difference. Banishing those two alone to the Hell of Oblivion wasn't going to be enough; it was only a matter of time, he could feel it down to his hooves. Swallowing his anxiety, he cleared his throat to speak into the microphone. “The Running of the Leaves is taking any last-minute volunteers. Don't be shy! Now's your chance to work your legs and show what you've got!” This is so embarrassing. It's like the Pegasi Tornado all over again...but worse. T-then again, it's not like this will make us run out of water, just...slow things down a little. Oh, please Celestia, just bail me out this once! Haven't I done enough?! He called out over the next fifteen minutes, but no such luck came upon him. It seemed he really would have to help out the thirteen ponies that were actually down there: they couldn't get behind schedule, or he would never hear the end of it! He was already dreading the press backlash, as unjustified as it would be. Even though organization was more Twilight's specialty, this certainly wasn't his fault. But on the other hoof, participating in the Running itself would make him look good... Spike sighed. Getting press over a change like he went through was nice; getting press just because was tiresome. Ponies like Rarity and Caramel were left alone as soon as the event passed by...but apparently Spike wasn't one of those ponies. Well, at least he would be one of those ponies that didn't crack under pressure. If only he had a few more runners to make a fatter photo op... “It's about time!” “Now we'll kick some butt! Oh, I'm PUMPED now!” Could it be? “It's good t'see you here, ain't that right, Rainbow?” “Hells yeah, it's good! You're going down, heartbreaker!” Eugh. Yes, it was. Yes...YES! This was perfect! “RAINBOW!” “...Too soon?” It was like a prayer answered from Paradise. “WAY too soon!” “Alright, I'm sorry, sheesh...” Everything would be fine. Everything would be fine. Big Macintosh overcoming his personal troubles to help the town? It would fit the bill perfectly. “...Don' worry 'bout it none, Rainbow. Let's jus' git these here leaves down.” “That's more like it!” ...After all, what better time than now? “Big brother, you sure 'bout this? Ah mean, Ah could round up our herd o' cows an' jus'--” “No need. Ah got...this...” What? Oh, no. He didn't like that tone. He didn't like it at all. What was going on? Spike anxiously scanned the area to find...ah. So that was why. The guy did say he was coming back for this. Spike had completely forgotten amid all the minutiae. “N-Now let's be civil 'bout this. We're all here t'run fer th' good o' th' trees. We worked awful hard t'git them back. An' let's be honest, we need all th' help we can git now. We good?” “Um...”, said Spike from the balloon, “AJ? Open your eyes.” She opened them and looked around her: all the ponies except for the Apple siblings and Rainbow Dash had fled the scene, and no guesses needed as to why. So much for his announcing gig. Without even looking, Spike knew in heart that Caramel saw what was happening and just 'smiled.' ...Then again, looking at him now, it seemed the pony was in a friendly mood? What for? He had just been considerably insulted: if it were him, Spike would have at least sneered a little. But Caramel didn't even seem troubled. To think that pony was the reason he still had nightmares of hordes of hoof-wrestling horses. “Uh....heh heh,” began Spike, trying to soothe his poor nerves. “Well, this is just off the cuff, but I'm confident these four ponies can do the job! There's certainly enough power between them, especially with--” “Spike!”, shouted Caramel to the balloon. “Just...don't bother. Don't do that to yourself. You should come down.” He couldn't believe his ears. Somepony told him to take it easy. Caramel of all ponies, after everything that happened, was saying exactly what he wanted to hear without even being prompted. He almost wanted to cry. “...You seem different, Caramel,” he opted to say instead. Caramel shrugged as he replied: “I feel different.” “....I'll just come down, then.” “Good idea.” Turning off the microphone, the severity of the situation was made apparent to him again. The two former lovers were standing on the extreme ends of the starting line, refusing to look at each other. Well, Big Macintosh was refusing to look to his left. Caramel still seemed much more agreeable than two weeks ago, looking all around him with a cool, mildly concerned gaze. Maybe Canterlot had set him straight? Dammit, I'm still in announcer mode. I'm getting out of here. ...No no, they still need a good start. I'll just dismiss the grand marshal and make it simple. Having done as he promised himself, Spike held the whistle between his teeth somewhat unsteadily. The four other ponies seemed to just stand there awkwardly, making it unclear when to start, or even if they should start at all. “Uh...”, started Rainbow, “I, uh, should probably--” “Rainbow, don' you DARE skimp out on this.” “Oh, come ON, this is so awkward it's creepy. I really need to--” “You know what, Rainbow?”, interjected Caramel. “You and Applejack probably should go.” “Whut did--” “Eeyup.” Spike had never seen Applejack quite so stunned in his time in Ponyville. Then again, he was sure he looked fairly taken aback as well, having dropped the whistle as his jaw dropped. Rainbow Dash flew off toward her home, Spike surmised by the rushing wind to his right. “Ah don'...BELIEVE this! You cain't jus'--” “Eeyup, Ah can. Now go.” “Yer bein' silly! Jus' let us--” “Ah SAID you should GO, sis. Ah'm yer elder, an' you'll obey me!” “MACINTOSH, DON' YOU DARE--” “GIT TH' FUCK OUTTA HERE BEFORE AH...j-jus' GO, NOW!” There was nothing more to say. Applejack was gone. Spike sounded the whistle, and Big Macintosh and Caramel started running down the bare dirt path. Spike left. RememberThunder and blood. That was all Big Macintosh could hear as he raced aside his...assistant, yes...to do what had to be done. Keeping his face forward, he made a point of stomping into the ground with each gallop, pretending the assistant's stomps were just an echo of his own. Thousands of brittle leaves trembled and collapsed to the soil, still damp from the morning's dew decorating their edges. He wished he could see the cascade of reds and yellows and oranges and browns behind him; he settled for appreciating the multihued trees in front of him as they raced by. They shook with all eight hooves before succumbing themselves to the thunder, dancing and swaying like muted flames. “...So are we on speaking terms?” The blood still engorged his inner ears, forcing odd disturbances like voices to hum in his brain. How odd. One of them resembled Applejack's dismay before they started running. At least it was bottled inside his head, instead of cheerfully smothering the mood in unnatural therapy. No, he kept the voice bottled for its own sake. He briefly closed his eyes and inhaled deeply to clear his thoughts. But as soon as he opened them again, the non-flames gifted their own clarity to him with each sway. “I saw you and June yesterday. You two are cute together...surprisingly.” Macintosh wished he weren't wearing his glasses. If he could let his eyes lose their focus, then the plant-flames might appear almost alive in their sickly dance. Then again, he never truly appreciated the understated beauty of the forest along the walking path: a good pair of lenses made that much more feasible. The sky was overcast as well, ensuring no rogue sunbeam would blind his corrected vision. “...I'm sorry. Okay? If nothing else, I want you to understand that. I'm really, really sorry. I-I did some thinking while I was away, and I see things a lot more clearly now. A-And I'm not trying to pull anything here. I couldn't if I tried...” The stream of blood in his ears receded slightly. Yet the voices became clearer. “I...”, mumbled the assistant, “I never actually destroyed Smartypants. I mean, I know you know that now, but...I had to say it. I just had a fake one made and ruined that one to spite you. I...I shouldn't have lost my temper from just being jealous for no good reason. Or, at least I thought...n-nevermind. Oh, by the way, did you know that belonged to Twilight this whole time? J-Just curious is all.” Big Mac remembered where Patches was at that time: sitting next to his bed on the small set of drawers. He got that set of drawers a year ago specifically so he could set her on it. Seeing her tossed aside by Caramel in a mud pit, behind the bakery where he was courting Junebug...he had to lie down after that. He was tempted to make his own doll of Caramel and tear that up. Instead, he undertook the nobler response. He carefully washed the mud off her poor, dingy hide and mane; tenderly attached her to a clothesline to dry, with Winona watching over it; and lovingly ferried her back to her wooden throne by his side. And by the time his head was finally clear...he wasn't even mad. It would have been cruel to be mad, although he had every right to be. Well, okay, he was still mad, but that was his problem. No, something else had to be done. At least his assistant seemed to be behaving himself for now. ...Maybe this'll be easier than Ah thought. Maybe. Jus' don' look at him fer now. “...I was too scared to give it to you personally. I shouldn't have wussed out on that either. I-I have no excuse for it, and I'm truly sorry. B-But anyway, I talked to Twilight about it before I left, and she said you can keep it. And...” Trickles of sweat dropped tentatively onto his glasses. He kept thundering as if his vision were crystal clear. “...Well, the point is we don't have to avoid each other all the time. We can still...acknowledge each other if nothing else. Please...” Big Macintosh sighed. He shouldn't have ignored what the pony said so easily. After all, here was his chance. He needed to calm down and not ruin what he had been given unconditionally. He could make Caramel do what should have been done the moment the Stallions' Field Cup ended. “...Ah've done some thinkin', too. But Ah don' think it wuz th' same kinda thinkin' you did.” Beyond reason, the thunder seemed much quieter...or was the reason so imperceptible after all? Mac was actually glad that his vision was obscured. Even if it was going to be easier, that wasn't to say it would truly be easy at all. And that pretty little face of his was not going to help. “Huh?” Careful, now. He's not yer enemy. Jus'...jus' lead him along. “Well, you go first. Whut'd you think 'bout?” Both of them vaulted over a small stream, but Mac could see that Mel was lagging behind a little. Although a small part of him protested, he made sure to slow his pace to match. “Uh...alright. It's a bit of a story, but it started when I arrived at Canterlot...” ...but I'm sure they were just as frustrated as I was. Having an incomplete talent wasn't even heard of at that time; it was completely counterintuitive. So they floundered, my parents floundered, and I floundered as we all tried to make do with what we had. Caramel stopped and checked how much he had written. At forty-five pages, it was turning into quite the essay. He turned an ear behind him: Fancy Pants was still showering two doors away. Macintosh was different, though. He was free of all that baggage. I adored his warm and unassuming attitude to others, and I envied his Paradise-given prowess to destroy any obstacles to his and others' lives. If anything, I resented him a little: I needed prowess like that more than most ponies, but the closest thing to that was completely inappropriate. I wanted his love and guidance, but it wouldn't have solved anything. That was partly why I held back from him. He must have thought I was too proud to associate with somepony stronger than him; but as he told me, he admired my stubborn will to succeed. Unfortunately, my stubborn will also kept me from relating to him on a deeper level. We talked and played a little when we were still small...but especially once my support system vanished, we barely interacted at all. I hated it...and I wouldn't have tolerated anything else. It was easy for me to forget most everything just by watching him. Others may call it creepy, and yeah, I guess it was. But I would see him play with his sisters, cart ponies around, laugh with them, work for them, be an integral part of their lives...and I had no input in it at all. I was able to merely spectate his life as a harmonic, wholesome object. There were small moments where I even forgot I had a body! I felt calm and balanced as a result...or at least I did for a time. Even when Macintosh would humor some “curious” mares hanging around the farm, I was able to detach myself and appreciate how contented they all were. Jealously was just a bittersweet drink keeping my insides warm. I forgot how I was an awkward detriment to the town's collective, and to his work schedule. I forgot Caramel Shine, becoming just 'Caramel'. And that was how it was. That was how I got through three years of being homeless. Every now and then, I would 'date' some mares to try and eke out something better for myself...but it was a joke to even call them that. Truthfully, it was just an excuse to mooch off of their hospitality and get a warm bed for the night. I lived that way as long as I could, up until it became too exhausting to put up that front; eventually, I just hid away in an Apple Family barn and atrophied. But when Spike turned into a pony and the entire town metamorphosed into a sitting powder keg, I saw a new opportunity forming in the distance. All I had to do was wait for the largest, ugliest development to take place. And there it was: the joke that was the Ponyville Jubilee and the Stallions' Field Cup. It was the perfect excuse for the new money to watch the lower class run around and even get into fights: I'm told this wasn't so uncommon a thousand years ago. I thought that the horseshoe-throwing segment of the Cup was my chance to break free from my horrible limitations and find some miraculous way to live happily. What happened instead changed me permanently. Celestia's sun had climbed to the cen--- “I'm finished now, if you wish to take one yourself.” Slightly startled, Caramel dropped his quill and turned to face his gracious...and very damp host. The fact Fancy Pants offered to let him stay for this long was staggeringly generous. And stepping out at odd hours? No questions asked. Perhaps the discreet pony really did understand Caramel's delicate situation and decided to merely be a stepping stone, instead of a ladder. He would have been grateful for either from him, and he was flabbergasted at the wealth and influence that surrounded him just for being near the stallion. It was still hard to imagine that the wealth Caramel himself had could have easily made a life like this for him. Or at least, that was the case for a few more days. Seeing the fancy pony cool and refreshed from the mineral-rich aquifer water made him realize how hot and stuffy he felt. The room he was given needed better ventilation. Taking a deep breath, he turned away to continue writing...only to remember he had dropped his quill. “M-Maybe later,” Caramel answered. “I just want to finish up this part.” Acting on his word, he retrieved the quill from the floor and made to wipe any dirt off the tip. But as he examined it, he looked at the floor again and saw that no dirt could have possibly come off the impeccable, marble layer. Caramel wasn't even sure he had seen a spotless floor in all those doctor's offices he endured. But there it was, softly shining from the fading purples of the setting sun...yielding to the pure black ink as it spread its stain carelessly. “That particular quill has a nasty habit of falling away from me, oddly enough,” commented Fancy Pants. “At the moment when I change my focus, it leaps from my hoof as if to spite me! If that's the case, then I wonder what I did wrong.” Caramel snickered, but he still found it hard to tear his gaze away from the ink pool. He ended up compromising with himself by looking for a way to clean it. Scanning the writing desk, he surprisingly found nothing; scanning behind him and to the right, the mandatory luxurious bed and the perfectly complimentary dressers held no obvious cleaning implement; now to the left, he ignored Fancy Pants' amused face to scan the single shelf between two entrances to branching hallways...which had nothing he could use. A deep blush undoubtedly must have colored his neck and shoulders. He should have checked for a cleaning cloth before he started using the ink! What was he supposed to do now?! ...Why am I so upset over this? “Ahem,” said Fancy Pants, as if the grunt were a complete sentence. “...Haha,” blustered Caramel. “I-I'm sorry about your floor. W-Where could I could something to clean--” “Oh, I wouldn't worry about it,” interrupted Fancy Pants, as if the off-hoofed comment were a deeply philosophical mantra. “You need to focus, and I could use a refresher on elimination spells.” He smirked, as if humor were the only valid conclusion to draw. “Then again, I may just leave it there: a nice contrast against the obnoxious white, don't you think?” Caramel smiled. He just sat there and smiled. “...I-I suppose it is.” Who...Who does that? Who just leaves ink on the floor to get stepped on and trip somepony up? And why am I going along with it, for that matter?! STOP SMILING, DAMMIT! “...Oh, don't pull that face,” chided Fancy Pants with a bemused frown. “I was only joking. Goodness me, you look like I just told you all your money had been whisked away.” Caramel tried to reclaim his smile, but even he knew it came off as a painfully self-aware grin. He had no way to escape this awkward little moment gracefully. So instead, he decided to take the obviously leading comment to its conclusion. “Oh, how subtle,” he softly mocked. “I'm still doing it. I just can't live with that much money I won't use, and other ponies actually need it. It's the best idea I've had all month.” Predictably, Fancy Pants sighed in disappointment...but Caramel couldn't have predicted just how profound it sounded. Oh, who was he kidding? Everything this stallion did came off as poignant and meaningful. The classic white hide and blue mane; the charm-drowned eyes unleashing a pinpoint gaze on the audience; the almost comically smooth baritone hitting all the right notes; the unavoidable fact that the guy was large and in charge...nothing about him went against his reputation. If anything, his appearance enhanced it to where he could pretend to be anything he wanted. Didn't it? In any case-- “In any case,” persisted Fancy Pants, “At least keep a large enough sum to pay for your cost of living back home for a year. I don't care what this city makes ponies think: getting established is not an overnight job. Not to mention...” For the first time, Caramel saw Fancy Pants look puzzled. Saying he needed some time away from Ponyville without explanation? Offered a place to stay. Stepping out without a word to the guy, to do some things he'd rather not ponder? Smiled and accepted it. Breaking down and showing him just how torn up he was about losing Macintosh over his own paranoia? Not an inch of the fancy pony's face was unsympathetic. It was almost...it was almost like he had been expecting Caramel to inconvenience him. But now a sliver of uncertainty ran down that pretty mask. He had completely forgotten about the ink blot. “...What exactly are you going to do? Abilities aside, your – *ahem* – 'legacy' will make it difficult for you to get into a business.” ...And suddenly, the blot spread over his mind again, steadily staining the pristine floor even further. “Ponyville has plenty of business that need a helping hoof, whether they'll admit it or not,” answered Caramel, as if it were the only logical observation. “If my 'legacy' closes too many doors, then...the oranges in the fields will be ripe come winter...” For some reason he couldn't fathom, he didn't stop himself from adding that last sentence. It ricocheted off the walls of his throat and bounced off his tongue with no regard to how pathetic it made him look. Why was he acting so weird; was he really that hot? He wasn't surprised at Fancy Pants' disapproving sneer. “I can't say I've seen a pony blush from certainty,” said Fancy Pants. “You've made your position clear, but I'll say it one last time: please reconsider. A reputation is a tricky thing to maintain, let alone repair. You still have time.” You still have time...hmph. I have time, but not the time I need. I need...what I need is... Realization struck the beige pony, as if it were waiting to do so for far too long. He didn't have to reject the advice being offered to him, nor did he have to demote it to a strawpony argument. If he opened up to the ideas he was offered – no matter how flawed they might be – then he could learn something. Hells, the attitude of receiving ideas more carefully was more likely to win-over any employer than throwing up a wall. So he didn't have to resist Fancy Pants...just because... And in that moment, Caramel realized why he felt so damn hot. He smacked his lips. “...I'll think about it.” Expecting a dramatic sigh of relief, Caramel instead saw Fancy Pants smile gently...a cruel kind of gentleness. He couldn't describe it, but the barest curve of those lips made the fancy pony look like something beyond the mortal realm. It was as if the Hell of Apathy had released one Changeling to take that persuasive form, just to taunt him. Well, whether divine or devilish, everything about that serene face made him feel dirty. Just how fickle can a pony be...? Barely two weeks, and I'm trying to forget him already. Heh. A big pony like Big Macintosh? Couldn't escape him if I tried. And damn, I've tried... Suddenly, he saw the too-fancy pony levitate a cloth from the dresser and will it over to him, dabbing his wet cheek. His cheek was wet. He was crying in front of the most dignified pony in all of Equestria. And for some reason, he didn't feel anything but flattered. “Excellent,” soothed Fancy Pants. “I knew I could get you to see sense.” The still damp pony looked askance to the now moonlit window. “As for...the other decision you're considering, I should make myself clear.” Caramel stopped breathing. He couldn't help it. “I am...fond of you, have no doubt, but fondness is where it ends. I would not move mountains to shade you from the sun, nor trick the stars to shine brighter where you stand. But I hold the greatest respect for the stallion that would.” ...There it was. If the blush that dirtied his face were mild before, it must have spread into a blood-drenched fire now. Blazing calmly and with a gentle cruelty, patiently eroding his peace of mind; he feared breathing lest he risk it growing into a greedy inferno. The pinpoint gaze would have combusted it all at once, so he turned to have it pierce his fur instead of his soul. Instead, he absorbed the sight of the ink and found it could only be seconds away from a similar fate. The moonlight showed it wasn't black, but a remarkably dark blue. Pages and pages of his life were scrawled with dark blue ink. He forced breath into his lungs without a word. He wasn't...sad. Truth be told, he mostly just felt...embarrassed? “The shower's waiting for you,” offered Fancy Pants. “You should clean up and get some rest.” Caramel felt himself complying far too easily than normal. He felt like a little foal again, oblivious and suggestible to the slightest idea. Without his permission, his fire-red horseshoe and its royal brother pulled him toward the floor, deliberately avoiding the stain when the tear-stained cloth wiped it clear and retrieved the errant quill. “U-Uh,” stammered Caramel, “I-I would've--” “Done it instead? My silly friend shouldn't worry about it,” insisted Fancy Pants. “He has a much bigger mess to manage.” In the back of his mind, he could hear the words Oh, very clever make circles around his ears. But his throat relentlessly strangled his voice beyond any hope of release. Instead, he weakly nodded and got on all fours, shakily cantering to the exorbitant wash room down the hall. As he gazed in the wash room's fogged mirror, he became aware of how bitter the inside of his mouth tasted. “...On second thought, I'll just skip to the moral.” Macintosh felt his lips stretch into a weary frown. It didn't take Caramel five seconds to reconsider his little story; it was painfully clear something was being hidden. He kept his ears up and alert, despite the ponderous thought of just how much information he would have to uncover later. They were halfway through the trek when they passed by the field where the Iron Pony Competition was held. All he had to do was look at it to shudder with discomfort. Now that he thought about it, the worst moments of their relationship both took place right there in front of a gaping audience. As young as their bond was, it was oddly...public and exposed, everypony throwing opinions around that he didn't care to know. His life really had been quieter since breaking it off with the silly pony. Finally daring to look to his right, he saw Caramel deliberately avoiding looking at the field. Even his refracted vision from the smeared sweat on the lenses couldn't hide that from him. For once, he understood his reaction completely. “The longer I spent up there, the more I realized how idiotic I acted with us. I...eugh, just thinking about it...I was so nervous about being discreet with the operation that I forgot who I was hiding it from. Yeah, I wanted it done right and only one pony I knew could do it. But I-I shouldn't have hid it from you, no matter how much you freaked me out when you lost your temper.” Before, he had to consciously avoid looking at Caramel to focus on guiding the prodigal pony to what he needed to know. Now, he found it greatly preferable to keep looking forward and not look his mistakes in the eyes. He took a deep breath to soothe his nerves. “I think it was just...”, continued Caramel, “...it all just happened way too fast. I hadn't been in a serious relationship before, and suddenly I had to address everything that had ruined my life at once! It was...unfair of me to take it out on you when you were only trying to help. I should have considered your feelings more while it was all happening.” Big Macintosh mildly shook his head as he said: “Nnope.” “H-Huh?” “Wuzn't that,” countered Mac gruffly. “You woulda been right t'tell me you were worried 'bout gettin' a botched operation. Shoot, Ah cain't blame you in th' slightest. Whut you shoulda done is passed yer decision by me before you made it.” Caramel fell silent, and the subtle flames of the falling leaves blazed even brighter; perhaps the water in front of him only made it bolder? As the void of silence grew longer and larger, thunder and blood struggled to fill its expanse. The complementary sides warred to establish domain over the deciduous forest, neither winning but both making the contrast unbearable. Macintosh tried to force out what he wanted to say, but his voice was cancelled amid all the psychic bloodshed. “...You're right,” Caramel finally said, forcing an armistice. “I should have made you part of that decision. I'm sorry.” The void was defeated, and the pretty flames falling behind them consumed the blood pounding through his flesh. But something else took its place. Now that he was free to do what he intended, he felt afraid to do so. Unconditional surrender could make the most brutal horse feel generous; but this has nothing to do with compassion. It was now clear as day that he had to play the part of defendant now. ...At least he was mostly sure it had nothing to do with compassion. But he couldn't let the past distract him. They both ran in front of the flames wordlessly, at least one of them not even considering where exactly they were. “...Come on, Big Mac. Say something. Don't leave me in the dark here...” Tell him tell him tell him, now's th' time! You've been plannin' this fer over a week! Why're you clammin' up now?! Jus'...start slow an' keep him relaxed. “Eh...”, started the awkward farm pony, “T-Thank you fer...fer bein' sensible. Ah do git it wuz nerve-wrackin' fer you, an' Ah shouldn't've behaved th' way Ah did. Apology accepted. N-Now...Ah need you t'listen t'me f-fer a bit.” “...Really?”, asked Caramel suddenly. “Wow. I thought this would be a lot rougher. Hells, I thought bringing up Smartypants would--” “Ah'm serious,” insisted Macintosh more calmly. “Ah need you t'listen t'me seriously; Ah scared off mah own sister fer this. An' her name's Patches, fer yer information, mister.” Only the grace of the fact Macintosh was galloping down a dirt road kept him from trembling, although it would have been slight. It occurred to him just how much was riding on this exchange: if he didn't manage to convince Caramel, then their future – possibly the future of certain elements in Ponyville and beyond – would become uncertain. Again. Enough cults and monsters and general weirdos vied to shake their morale; this was one point of chaos that could be and needed to be neutralized. “Take your time,” said Caramel in a calm voice. “It's been a weird...adventure, let's put it that way.” Taking two short gasps for fresh air, Mac ignored the bitter taste in his mouth and urged himself forward. “Ah...Ah suppose Ah should start with us,” he said with surprising serenity. “Yer daddy aside, Ah didn't approach our relationship right.” “Yeah...me neither”, interjected Caramel. “We went way too fast without stopping to think. I didn't really believe you loved me; you didn't know why you loved me; not to mention we had trouble loving each other...excuses be damned. We were scared and didn't acknowledge it! I-I mean, I assume that's what you're getting at.” “S-Sorta,” responded Macintosh. “Ah was so confused Ah couldn't think clear. In particular, Ah didn't realize that Ah...you...we...” Spurred by the thought of the revelation, he looked at the beige menace next to him. Even now, he couldn't articulate quite how he felt being with him. Warm memories mixed with horrible ones without rhyme or reason. But from the first time he stepped off the roller coaster in his heart, he saw the one truth that he could state with depressing clarity. Macintosh slowed down, with Caramel matching the new pace. “...W-Well? What is it?!” Breathe, Macintosh, breathe. It'll all be okay. “Ah...Ah never loved you,” he finally uttered in shallow breath. “N-Now before you say anythin', please jus' lemme explain it all. Ah gotta say mah piece here. Okay?” It almost went without saying that he wasn't looking at Caramel anymore, obscured or not. It would be self-sabotage to do so. If Caramel interrupted his flow as he painted his humiliating portrait, it would only make him fall back into that half-crazed mudslinging; let alone if he saw Caramel's blurry face as he tried to justify his behavior for the past four months. It was bad enough that he knew how it probably looked: the same face that haunted him at the crevice. After an insufferable pause, Caramel finally croaked out a pitiful: “Fine.” “Thank you,” said Big Macintosh gratefully. “Ah thought you were th' one fer me fer th' longest time...but it wuz all in mah head. You looked like somepony Ah could live with, but Ah never pictured how or where or whut it would all mean. Ah respected you an' wuz a mite fond o' you, don' git me wrong. But once Ah saw who you really were...once Ah saw Ah didn't know a damn thing 'bout you...” Macintosh slowed down even further, allowing him to take a deeper breath that was desperately needed. He had to stomp his hooves to make sure the leaves were still falling, making him almost bounce with each gallop. “Ah shoulda realized Ah wuzn't helpin' you cuz Ah wuz in love. It wuz t'prove Ah wuz a good pony despite neglectin' you all this time. Ah wuz...bein' selfish.” “We should just stop here,” said Caramel, eliminating any ambiguity by slowing to a trot, and then a full stop. Macintosh hesitantly followed suit, despite having to turn around and walk back toward him. His obscured glasses could only show him a beige blur amid the lazy flames and upturned clods of earth. And yet he couldn't stand the sight of that blur returning his gaze. His relaxing body became vulnerable to the trembles he anticipated, growing in intensity with each step shaping the blur into the pony who had changed him so thoroughly. No matter how much he tried to change back, it was obvious that the name Big Macintosh carried a different weight to everypony now. It certainly carried a different weight right at this moment, the exact mood battering his psyche as he sat down in front of his ex. It was amazing to him how he could come to fear such a small and cute pony. Horseshoes made a hell of a difference. Caramel sat silently, not meeting eyes with him. “E-Eeyup,” acquiesced Macintosh. “Well, seein' whut you'd been reduced ta jus'...got t'me in a way Ah didn't understand. Ah still cain't forgive yer daddy fer puttin' you in that situation, an' Ah still wish you had asked fer help; but mostly Ah hated how Ah wuz too clueless t'do nothin' 'bout it. So Ah tried t'do whut yer daddy couldn't...an' that wuz th' wrong thing t'do altogether.” Caramel was still silent and avoided his gaze as Macintosh inhaled deeply again. “Whut Ah shoulda done,” continued Macintosh, “wuz taken you t' th' ponies who coulda actually helped you. But Ah jus' let you talk me into flounderin' without a plan. That's not love, that's foolishness. Then after this summer happened...um...”, he stalled as he wiped his brow, careful to avoid his glasses, “well, even at th' time, it felt a little like an obligation.” Macintosh paused as he saw Caramel furrow his brow. No, no, he had to focus. He had almost forgotten his original objective amid the blaze. “It's different with June, though. Ah jus' spent time with her, nothin' fancy or dramatic, an' Ah started wantin' t'spend time with her more an' more. She didn't give me anythin' but herself; n-not that Ah'm tryin' t'shame you or nothin', but it's true. It's jus' nice an' calm with her.” “It's easier,” commented Caramel without any inflection. “Uh, y-yeah,” responded Macintosh. “That's a good way t'put it. Anyway, we're not tryin' t'do anythin' but have a good time together. An' that's really how it should be. Maybe Ah'll grow t'love her – in fact, Ah'm sure that's whut's happenin' – but nopony's forcin' it. Ah had to force it with you, an' that hurt you more than me.” This time, Caramel was the one to inhale deeply. “Ah swear Ah wuzn't lyin' t'you on purpose. Dear Gods of Paradise, Ah swear it. Ah wuz jus' sore confused with everythin' that happened this year...an' with not ever bein' in real love, though Ah thought it wuz. Heh,” he chuckled weakly, “maybe that's why Ah have a green cutie mark after all, th' way Ah wuz actin'. Jumpin' into love without a clue...jumpin' into all sorts o' messes jus' cuz Ah felt Ah hadta. Eeyup.” Ever so softly, Macintosh heard Caramel whisper: “But you always get to the core of the matter.” He always knew that was the true nature of his talent, but it was weird hearing it from the pony who gave him the most trouble for it. Perhaps that was due to Caramel's talent being extremely vague: just something to do with horseshoes. Or maybe that was just the autumn morning. It was certainly beautiful enough to take his mind off the worst of the whole ordeal. Sometimes. “More than anythin' else,” he persisted, “Ah shouldn't've forced mahself on yer, eh, difficult past. S'not a good idea t'have a confused pony helpin' another confused pony. An' Ah mean nothin' but the words Ah speak here, but yer sure as all six hells confused.” “Wait, wait, wait a minute here,” interrupted Caramel. “I'm the confused one now?” “Eeyup.” An' whut d'you mean now? A sharp wind whisked the fallen leaves into a short-lived whirlwind around them. Macintosh felt himself, beyond reason, wishing it had been much larger and much longer. “...Okay. Confused about what?” “Jus'...confused,” said Macintosh helplessly. “You admitted how you behaved poorly, so don' take me th' wrong way here. But confused is th' only way t'describe you! Fer everythin' you did the past few months – hells, further back than that – Ah cain't guess whut you were hopin' t'gain from it. You don' even know, do you?” “Well...”, hesitated Caramel, “yes, I do know! I'm not confused about that at all; if anything, it's obvious in hindsight! What I AM confused about is--” “Nngh, forget it,” Macintosh interrupted, rubbing his head where it began to ache. “Like Ah said, Ah'm not th' one t'be doin' this stuff. All Ah'll say is Ah don' think poorly of you fer it anymore. Ah see you didn't know whut you were doin'. That's why Ah want t'make you a deal, Caramel.” “...A deal?” “Eeyup. Ah'll drop any pretense with us an' support you in yer efforts from now on...if'n you start seein' a therapist. Twilight tells me she knows a darn good one. So...what say you?” No whirlwind imposed its whimsy on them now. The ponymade forest was completely silent, with the leaves on the ground retired and the leaves still on the branches stubbornly resisting their fate. No birds or squirrels or other little critters were around them. That was curious, now that Macintosh thought about it: they usually hung around this section, if he remembered correctly. Yes, just before the cottage and actually close to the (now pointless) finish line. But a simple look told him they weren't there, either. Whatever the reason, it was horrible timing: he would have given most anything he had for some noise, some deterrent from the soul-crushing quiet that bore down on him now. Finally, Caramel looked up and said: “I'll agree to your deal if you clarify something for me.” Half-crazed with relief, Macintosh almost snorted as he said: “Anythin' you need!” “Alright,” continued Caramel as he stood up. “What are you trying to pull saying you never loved me? That's a pretense if I've ever heard one!” Big Macintosh sighed, knowing he would have to explain why he sighed along with everything else. Again. He stood up to tower over Caramel. “Ah wuzn't in love with you from th' start, like Ah said. Ah jus' loved an idea o' you Ah had made up t'please mahself. Nothin' more, nothin'--” “Don't even try to...oh. OH. I understand now. You really don't see it, do you?” The blood below his ears began to surge with greater force. Everything he had avoided was now cruelly thrown in his face, and he had to set things straight without ruining everything. “T'ain't a lie, Mel. Ah know it's awful t'think 'bout, but we were both--” “We were both confused, yes. And you still are. You still can't come to terms with liking stallions, so you're rewriting your memories of us for convenience's sake!” “W-Whut?!”, blustered Big Macintosh. “Now that's jus' hogwash. Think 'bout this carefully, please.” “Oh, I am,” rebutted Caramel. “I've thought about this for a while, actually. Your attitude toward me when my dad came up; dating a mare after you broke up with a stallion, and way too soon for that matter; chickening out whenever I suggested we have sex – you know, that thing couples do; you just couldn't deal with it! Now, I admit some fault on that last one, too, but if you had been willing, then--” “Nnope,” interrupted Macintosh a little too forcefully. “You got th' absolute wrong idea. Ah prefer mares t'stallions on balance. Simple as that.” As soon as he made that last statement, Macintosh noticed a ray of sunlight peeking out from a stray cloud, unfairly deciding to shine on Caramel's shod hooves. They were surprisingly clean for galloping through a dirt path, but still filthy. The glare was so strong that he had to shuffle to the left slightly. Even the mysterious cutie mark seemed to be glowing slightly. “Oh yeah?”, said Caramel. “Name one other mare besides Cheerilee that you've dated. Go on.” “Caramel. You an' Ah both know Ah haven't.” “Exactly. And why not? You were daydreaming about me! Or maybe some other stud, I don't know, it...it d-doesn't matter. You were ten times more involved with me than you are with Junebug now. You can't write that off as self-delusion; it doesn't work that way.” “Now yer jus' makin' stuff up!”, retorted Macintosh. “Love messes with ponies' heads all th' time!” “Yes,” continued Caramel, seemingly undaunted. “It does. Love messes with ponies' heads. You loved me. Maybe not now...but...but you certainly did then!” “...No. Ah. Didn't. Ah had mah head up mah rear, that's whut happened.” “I'm not saying you didn't”, replied Caramel icily. “But that wasn't because you didn't have feelings for me. You were starting to see yourself for who you really are. So if anything, you were scared to admit that you loved me as much as you did! You lied to me and flirted with Junebug over the summer – while I was abroad – just because “we” didn't make sense to “you”!” Up in the sky, two pegasi raced above Macintosh, though he barely registered it. He barely registered anything but the horribly triumphant look on the strange beige pony's face. All he could do was fall to his rear with his jaw dropped in bewildered defeat. Out of nowhere, far too quickly, that stud-licker had ruined everything. Yet again. “She told me herself,” Caramel answered without prompt. “Nice conversation. She had quite a lot to say about you, actually, really good things. I like her. She doesn't deserve our mess.” ...Wrong move, boy. “Don' go talkin' 'bout whut you don' understand,” he grunted. “Our “relationship” didn't make sense t'me cuz it didn't make sense, period. We're not a fit pair, an' June's mah future. End o' story.” Caramel just laughed at him. “Sure, tell yourself that if you like. But make sure you remember what happened accurately. You cradled me. You shed tears for me. You were amazing, Mac. A heart that pure doesn't come from selfishness, and you know it. Don't be ashamed of it; be proud of it!” “Yer a little too proud, if'n you ask me!” “Hah! Whatever; it doesn't matter now. Come on, let's take the rest of these leaves down. We're late.” Big Macintosh watched furiously as Caramel cantered into a running pace. Just like that, everything was fine?! This pony had the gall to talk to him that way, after everything that happened?! After vandalizing his property?! He decided to make his position clear, raising his hooves without ceremony and pulverizing the dirt beneath them as they crashed. The thundering vibration agitated the blood rushing under his hide...and left the forest completely bare. Caramel stopped dead in his tracks and turned to face him again. “Yer not goin' anywhere, not now,” growled Big Macintosh. “Ah shoulda known you'd have th' nerve t'be this callous. Ah shoulda known this wuz a bad idea. But you know whut?!” Caramel had a fiery look to his eyes as he answered: “What, lover of mine?” “Ah...Ah feel SORRY fer you. Yer story's a sad one, yet you act like everythin' jus' peachy. You cain't STAND feelin' like a victim, so you throw yer baggage 'round fer everypony else t'bear. An' that's jus' pathetic. How could Ah love you when you won't love yerself? Answer me that!” “...Because of you. You did love me, so you helped me see I wasn't doomed to be helpless for the rest of my life! You're right; I was pathetic! You were the best thing that happened to me, and I hate how it all ended! You yell at me, yet you're the last pony I would be mad at; I see that now!” “Oh, very smooth,” hissed Macintosh. “Very pretty. That one o' yer speeches? You couldn't wait t'burst mah bubble today, could you? Jus' admit it an' do yerself a favor!” “I couldn't wait to burst that one. Look. Deep down, you know that finding out you were more selfish than you thought was devastating to you. That was what made you crazy for the last few months. But you're still what I think of when somepony mentions purity and goodness. And rightly so! You shouldn't be ashamed that you like stallions, even if it's a little weird when you think about it!” “Would you QUIT IT with this 'likin' stallions' crap?! That has nothin' t'do with this! YOU were th' one t'put me on th' roller coaster! YOU were th' one t'make mah heart hurt all that time Ah wuz helpin' you. An' all th' time Ah wuz waitin' fer you! Ah'm not confused how Ah love STALLIONS; Ah'm confused how Ah love YOU!” ...Whut? Oh, Gods fuck me. Ah did not. But Ah did. Mah heart hurts. Ah...That's... “...I knew it,” answered Caramel calmly. “And you know it now. It's okay; that makes sense! You should have just said that and spared us both--” “NNOPE. SHUT UP. AH DON' LOVE YOU, YER JUS' SO...MANIPULATIVE! YOU TRICKED ME WITH YER SILVER TONGUE, LIKE...like you threw a damn horseshoe in mah head!” “Oh yeah?! Then let me pull it out! Answer this, point blank: do you miss me? No silver there!” “DON'...Don' be an idiot, Caramel Shine. O' course Ah miss you!” ...No. No. NO. It cain't be; there's no reason fer it. You ruined me. Caramel...oh damn it all, Ah cain't keep this up with you lookin' at me like that. Lookin' at me like...like there's not th' slightest thing wrong with me. He took off his glasses and saw Caramel's face, shining with sweat and beaming with determination. Caramel was not angry. Caramel was...passionate. Dauntless. Strong. He wanted that strength; he had always admired it. But something else shone forth, something that had suckered him in every time. Yes...he saw it when the little stallion smirked, when he glanced away, when he squinted, when he cried, when he laughed, when he smiled. If it was a real smile, then he was completely enthralled to that 'something'. It was always there, even when he wanted to strangle the little pony. And it was he tried to avoid as he ran alongside him. So maybe he wasn't looking at what he wanted...but what he needed? Something he could never have on his own, something Caramel had this whole time? Desperate for certainty, he looked straight into the beige menace's eyes for answers. They shone bright and clear...as if just for him. They were shining just for him. Like before. Junebug's eyes were similar, but they didn't shine nearly as strong. He didn't know if they would ever shine that strong, enough to pierce him to the core, like a knife to an apple, and leave his weakest self exposed. He sat down on the bare dirt path and let his own eyes shine back. “...Oh Gods, Ah miss you.” Caramel faltered, shining even brighter for it as he weakly said: “I...I miss you, too. I tried to move on, even just a little, but I couldn't. I-I can't. You're it...” “Ah wuz done missin' you. Dammit, Caramel, Ah'm...Ah'm sick.” “No,” defied Caramel, walking forward unsteadily. “You're just confused. And it's okay. I don't want anything but for us to be on good terms." "G-Good," he stuttered, feeling weaker with each step his ex took toward him. "T-This hasta stop. Whutever th' hells this is, it hasta stop." There. As horribly wonderful as he felt, he had made things simple. All of this had a simple answer! Everything would be fine. Eeyup. Caramel finally sat down in front of him, now fully beyond the blur. Now Macintosh could see him clearly...he could see the helpless tears starting to pool in those baby blues. He couldn't even remember his girlfriend's name. "We may r-really be a bad match. *Sniffle* I-I can sorta see that. But that doesn't--” Macintosh pulled Caramel toward him and grabbed his head to plant an unrestrained kiss on those lips that twisted him. He massaged the sassy mouth with a tenderness he didn't know he possessed, with a ferocity that scared him to death. It was true. It was all true. Why did it have to be true? Because now...now it had to become untrue. But it couldn't be. It could never be. Macintosh pulled apart from his little stallion to let them both breathe. It was so much easier; they could both breathe so much easier. But it was only for this moment. They rested their heads together and simply drew breath, savoring each synchronized inhale and exhale. What little time they had would be theirs and only theirs, a singular memory stubbornly blazing against oblivion. It was all they had left. “Ah love you, Caramel...Ah jus' wish Ah knew why. But we'll make do." “Yeah...I love you too, Dad.” Tell the TruthA/N: Aagh! Sorry this took so long, but I got a bad case of the Eh-I-Don't-Feel-Like-It's. Any creative type can tell you how persistent that disease is. But this chapter was also tricky for me, so that made it take longer as well. Feel free to comment on any errors, as usual. I completely froze. I had ruined everything with one word. Can you imagine? Just one word...that was all it took to invert my entire life. No word should be that powerful. I still don't really believe that I said that. Maybe I just said something that sounded like it. My lips were trembling quite a bit. But it was clear as the fact I'll die one day what he heard. All I could do was just sit there while he backed away from me. His face...I couldn't stand looking at his face after that word. But I had to. I had to see just what I had done to him. Even when he started laughing, I couldn't make myself see anything but that demented grin. Wait...whut? Demented grin? “O-O' course!”, he shrieked at me. “This makes MUCH more sense! You jus' cain't stand me gettin' on without you, so you twist mah head 'round 'till Ah give in! Hahaha! Well done, sugarcube!” That doesn't... I tried to defend myself, to tell him it was a passion-sick mistake. But my throat wouldn't move. It was like that word was still being spoken, and my voice couldn't articulate anything else while it reverberated though the two of us. Why're you sayin' it like this? Whut's th' point? Even with that part of my life behind me, Da--that pony behind the word still failed to be a positive influence. So I just sat there and let him keep talking. “Yeah, i-it's jus' fine! T-This is 'zactly why you need that head doctor! Ah mean, you heard yerself say that, right?! EEYUP, you sure did! HAHA! Ah can see it on yer face...damn, lover boy, you sure fucked yerself over!” Oh, that's jus' – you little liar! But that was when his rant twisted upon itself, and it became absolutely unbearable. “Love...love, huh?! YOU THINK AH LOVE YOU?! L-Lemme tell you whut th' deal is, boy. Ah'm a dumb farm pony who don' know no better no how! So...so...oh, Celestia, you KNEW. You came back t'town knowin' 'zactly how t'trick me into feelin' weak an' helpless. But you slipped, didn't you? You meant t'crush mah soul a little later, maybe in th' middle o' somethin' intimate?” Wouldn't've surprised me. At least not now. Ah shouldn't've let you on that path that day. Ah should've known trouble when Ah saw it. “That's why yer...” I forget the rest. I blocked it out or something. Or maybe you cain't think o' whut t'fill in? I finally managed to blurt out: “I-It doesn't have to be this way!” Yes, it was meaningless, but a stock response is better than no response. Or at least I thought so at the time. Big Macintosh became very quiet then. “...You know?”, he said with a tone that still gives me chills just thinking about it. “Yer right. It doesn't. Ah don' hafta subject some poor doctor pony with yer nonsense. In fact...Ah know jus' th' pony who could sort this mess out or burn out tryin'!” ...It wuzn't worded like that, but whatever. Liars will lie. To this hour, I can't say what force compelled me to ask: “Who?” Big Macintosh burst out laughing. Not even slightly true. “WHO ELSE?!” “...No,” I begged. This is gettin' ridiculous! “It's perfect! Ah'll jus' haul you up ta th' mines an' leave th' two o' you to it. Buck two trees with one kick! An' th' apple doesn't fall far from th' tree, so both you basketcases can rot in peace and harmony!” Ah...AH DON' BELIEVE YOU! HOW DARE YOU...wait. This jus' falls in line with everythin' else. Calm down, calm down. “You can't do that to me...!” “Or you could sort it out,” he continued, deliberately ignoring me, “but... HAHAHAHA! HAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAA! Who am Ah kiddin'?! He'd ignore you, an' you'd jus' pretend he wuz some random diamond miner! Oh pony, that cracked me up!” This is sick. Ah cain't hardly bear anymore! “S-Sure, it'd be funny,” I lied to try and calm him down. “Just think this through a little more. I'll go to that therapist you described, and we can write this day off as a...a m-mis...” I could feel my soul ripping itself apart as I hissed the beginning of the word. Yer really milkin' this now. Hissing words? Are you a snake now? “A whut now?”, he asked with an insincere frown, turning his ear to me as if I were too quiet to be heard. “...We would write it off as a mistake.” If only it were that simple, Caramel. After whut you did, that "mistake" will define you fer the rest o' yer life. “A MISTAKE, you say?”, continued Macintosh. “Too late fer that, hon. This is more than a mistake! It's an abomination before all o' ponydom, an' it's now mah duty t'make sure it doesn't happen 'gain! Yer comin' with me, Caramel.” WHUT?! THAT'S TH' MOST BLATANT--INEXCUSABLE-- “NO! DON'T YOU DARE, DON'T TOUCH ME!”, I cried out, trying to back away but still rooted to the ground. Macintosh knew he could only take me with him one way...by swinging his-- "THAT'S ENOUGH!" “...Huh?”, Caramel blustered at me. “Ah'm astounded, Caramel. It's only been a couple o' days, an' half o' whut you said wuz made up t'trick me. Even as far as you've sunk, Ah thought you'd still have th' decency t'tell me th' truth.” “AJ, for Celestia's sake!”, he stubbornly continued. “I'm telling you the truth! I have no reason to lie at this point; I have nothing to gain. NOTHING. You made sure of that.” I looked past him, toward the back of the train car. He was only taking a silver horseshoe and a vase of morning glories with him. I didn't persuade him in his choices in the slightest...though perhaps I should have. I needed some grasp of what was happening; even the smallest lasso-full of control would've soothed my nerves. “Well, you must've somethin' to hold on ta,” I insisted. “Big Macintosh told me th' real version, an' that should've been enough. He certainly had no reason to lie. But Ah thought before Ah do this...that you MIGHT have somethin' t'say. Ah've heard that somethin', an' Ah'm more sure than ever this is whut needs t'be done.” He had no response, for once. But I was sure if he did, then it would be a meaningless gurgle about how it was "just a mistake." “It's only that you were good t'us in th' past that Ah didn't turn you in. Jus'...go somewhere quiet, an' Ah'm sure everypony will find somethin' amicable instead o' all this. Ah'll find you if'n we change our minds. So...this is goodbye.” I honestly had nothing else to say. All I wanted to do was go back to see my big brother and my friends, maybe try one of Pinkie's stress-relieving cupcakes. But nothing would make that pony look like he used to, not now. I used to always see a charming, determined little colt when he was on the farm, even when things were at their most confusing. Still, this whole ordeal made it clear as day who he really was. It was...it was almost a relief to not have to justify his behavior. I didn't have to justify anything of his anymore. I could just focus on my family. Yes. My family. I finally turned around and started to run for the hospital. “Y-You're sure he's alright?”, I heard him call behind me. Of course he found one last crutch to stand on...I stopped one last time. “As far as we know,” I answered without turning my head. “But it changes nothing, you know that.” “...Yeah. I panicked. Nothing will change that...” “...Think of it this way,” I spat at him. “You don' hafta worry 'bout him anymore. You can start fresh. Now git started.” I didn't stick around to see if he obeyed me or not. The guilt of staying away from the bedside became too much to bear, fogging my head from pointless distractions. That's all that horse was now. A pointless distraction. Maybe that's all he ever was. All that mess with craters and shoeing and Paradise-knows-what-else wasn't and would never be our area. Any Apple would have helped him out in that sad state...and then set him off on his own. That's all this was, wasn't it? I supposed it was! N-Not that it mattered either way. As pointless distractions go, it faded from my mind as the bright white hospital building came into view. I actually found myself hoping Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash were still telling the story of how they found both of them; I just didn't have the energy to entertain visitors anymore. I had never had my head separated from my body. But that's the only way I could think to describe how I felt for the last week. Only my head felt like good old flesh and bones; the rest felt like an oversoaked sponge with unnecessary limbs. I had requested they leave my noggin alone myself...but the more I floated above the tether of my useless body, the more I almost regretted that prerogative. They might as well have knocked me out cold until my blood flow had gone back to normal. Due to recent events, it wasn't like I couldn't afford the expense. That self-pitying stream ran through my head every time I woke up to hear Rainbow telling the story, each time altered to appeal to the new audience of that morning. That is, when I did wake up in the morning. When I woke up today, I heard a snippit of an “anti-drag cloud” or something weird like that. More than a little curious about this addition to my story, I perked my ears up to listen more closely. As soon as I did that, I suddenly heard Junebug's soft breathing as she still slept on the chair beside me. “O-Oh Rainbow, you don't have to tell them that,” I heard Fluttershy say from outside the door. She said that at some point whenever Rainbow re-invented the story, and she was always right. “Why the hay not?!”, defied Rainbow as usual. “It's a great story! Those butterflies trained like crazy to do that for you. They helped you win the race! Now don't tell me that's not worthwhile!” Butterflies...race...Fluttershy...I figured they meant the bizarre cloud that flew over the seed shed in the spring and nearly bowled me into the wall. Having only learned of it weeks after the fact, I wasn't overly concerned with it. Except one facet of it disturbed me to no end: Fluttershy, when asked, would only mention a few strange butterflies she hadn't seen before breaking away from the group. As a matter of fact, she mentioned three butterflies often straying from her shelter during the spring...that always made me think of little Clementine for some reason. It was stupid; what did pretty little butterflies have to do with that power-hungry filly? But I associated the two each time I heard it, without fail. Maybe it was the times after all; something in the air was just...different. I didn't want to think the news, the social climate, or even the atmosphere itself was making ponies slowly corrupt and sever from each other. But certain ponies made the idea hard to ignore. Either way, something had to be done. That's cruel, coming from you. “It was absolutely dazzing to behold as well; an electric pink cloud tearing across the sky!”, said Miss Rarity. At least I think it was her. Ponyville had gotten more fancy ponies over the year, and those voices tended to sound alike. Either that, or some of the anesthetic really did get to my head. “Anyway, I convinced her to start training again so she could use that technique again, so she could go from place to place faster, so she could take care of her critters all over the place more efficiently, right? Makes sense and all, you know.” I could almost hear Twilight rolling her eyes. Even I knew that was a run-on sentence. That last bit was probably a sentence fragment, too. The former right next to the latter? I would have giggled if it didn't make the sponge tingle. “So we were racing over the forest path, to kinda check on things with the Running of the Leaves, too. Everything was going fine, until...until...come on, Fluttershy.” “...Do I have to?”, complained Fluttershy. “We have an audience here, and they're hanging on every word! Just do it and get it over with.” I heard her sigh. It wasn't a timid sigh like the first few times. It was a sigh of defeat, and a well-earned one. I joined her as gently as I could. “...Until I swooped down 'like a raven' and spotted t-the scene of the crime right as it 'went down'.” The other ponies outside the door gasped at the same time. This gasp was a little shallower than the others. But maybe that wasn't accidental: Fluttershy forgot to mention that she flew down when she saw those same three butterflies down there. It certainly would have explained it for the crowd, so they would have believed it more easily, maybe? How much of a difference did that sort of thing make, anyway? ...When did you start caring about stuff like that? ...When did I start caring about stuff like that? This hospital was driving me out of my mind. Heh. “She was right there, you guys!”, Rainbow said with too much eagerness. “She saw the moment Caramel bucked Big Macintosh square in the chest! She saw the horseshoes crush the flesh and bone, just missing his heart.” “Ah think that's enough fer today, Rainbow,” I heard my sister scold. Every time she said that, I could breathe a little easier. Granted, that wasn't saying much. The raw force of the blow turned my ribs into half-eaten apple pie crust, or so my sister told me for fear of describing it properly. The crowd noisily dispersed, more than a few of them dropping words like “Scoundrel” and “Unbalanced” and even “Monster” and other words that nopony in our family would touch. Normally. I had already vowed to put a stop to my foul language from this point onward. It was weird hearing it all because...it bothered me, and yet it didn't. It didn't bother me because ponies will think what they think; nothing will ever change that. It did bother me because they said it without understanding the real story. Too true to be funny. Every time I heard the story, only one inaccuracy was consistently retold. It was a small one for the gossiping listeners, being highly informed and all, but it changed everything when actually told. I managed to convince myself there was only one reason why it was hard to breathe...But he hit it. He hit it hard. But how could he twist my heart so thoroughly?! Was I really that incapable of keeping dreams and reality apart? Why did he even matter to me? It was...so unfocused and muddled that it got mixed up in everything else and just made me tired. When it happened before, I decided I was confusing love with my own fixation on obligation. Having ruled that out...eugh! It was the last thing I needed to think about while still bed-ridden. If you ask me, there's no better time... Although it would be the one productive thing to do. No, it made no difference. Not anymore. All I ever really wanted was a family to call my own; and now I was closer than ever at getting one! I just had to keep dreams in my head and reality by my side. And look at the flowers: freshly picked daisies and morning glories. June always got up too early to surprise me with them, poor thing. Sometimes I stayed up too late just so she could relax and rest herself, ready to be a doll at a more reasonable hour. It was so sweet...it was almost cruel, smelling the weak aroma but still too weak to eat them. Caramel...what in every hell did you do to me? Just how long is this whole deal going to take? And it just occurred to me: how did you find me, anyway? I'm under so many wraps I can't breathe! “You holdin' up fine in here, big brother?”, I heard as the door closed behind my little sister. Of course you were. You pretty much proved you're immortal; a couple weeks' rest really is all you would need! I licked my dry lips and inhaled gingerly to reply: “Eeyup.” “That's good,” she said with that adorable little smile. “AJ should be comin' by later; she really didn't like Rainbow's storytellin' th' day before. An' today sounded even worse, so Ah don' even wanna think 'bout how mad she'd get!” “...Nnope.” I nudged my head toward June so Bloom wouldn't get too loud. “Oh. Anyway, Ah still think she's getting' better. It took both of us t'git her t'listen ta...you know...B-But she's eatin' 'gain an' doin' chores with me, so it'll all be good!” Little Bloom...if only her sister and I were as simple as she was, thing would've been much easier. Life was better managed with simple methods. I needed to learn that way of being again, and I had all the time in the world now. How rosy. Wait...oh, you sneaky devil. But it's not like it even matters now. I said, “Eeyup,” to her, trying to see if I could claim my vanity as real. But it was going to take a lot of 'Eeyup's. She beamed at me nonetheless, and thank Celestia she always did. You weren't dying by this point. What's with the melodrama? “...They still haven't taken that contraption off you?” “Nnope,” I confirmed, looking to the...I-V, I think they called it?...hooked to my flesh. I had seen something like it when I visited Rainbow in the same hospital, but this one seemed much more complicated. I reckoned it had to do with helping my blood flow and muscles restore themselves. I felt like a submarine sandwich stabbed by several toothpicks, except these toothpicks were keeping me alive. Coincidentally, I decided that acupuncture didn't interest me too much sometime during my hospital stay. Was that supposed to be funny? I mean, yes, it's heartbreaking...but why try to make light of it? It's not like you to-- Oh, it's because it is you. Dressing it up so I wouldn't worry...figures. It was around this time that Junebug started to rouse out of the one chair next to the bed. “Mornin', Miss Junebug!”, said Applebloom. “Didja sleep alright?” “Mnngh...It was as good as I could have hoped for,” said June sweetly. “At least the sun wasn't streaming in my eyes.” “Eeyup, that woulda been a mite irritatin',” agreed Bloom. This is really detailed. If you're trying to make me feel guilty with every aspect of your life, then you're still full of drugs. I made myself clear my throat, as much as I instantly regretted it. They both turned to look at me and stopped that inane time-wasting. Both of us were going to try to convince June again, and I wasn't in the mood for any preambles or niceties. They had hardly done any good so far – hells, they weren't any good all year – so I decided for us that a good old Apple-style method was in order. “Where is he, June?”, I said with as much authority as my busted ribs would allow. “Ah know both you an' AJ know, an' yer both keepin' it from me fer some cockamamie reason. Jus' spare us all th' tension. Please.” As soon as I pleaded, she turned her head from deliberately avoiding me back to facing me. Eye contact was going to be critical, so this was a good sign. “Before...Before I tell you, I want to ask you this,” started June. “Why do you want to know, anyway? Lots of ponies have lots of different reasons, but...you're not 'lots of different ponies'.” “June, t'ain't a matter o'--” “I just want to know,” she insisted, keeping her eyes on me. “Honest.” I groaned outwardly and emphatically. “Why wouldn't Ah want t'know? Ah have more reason than anypony else! An' if'n yer feelin' sorry fer him, keep in mind Ah cain't 'zactly wreak vengeance or something stupid like that in this state. There ain't no reason not t'tell me, sugar...”, I finished with a gentler tone. Shoot, she didn't need my mess this early. She was nothing but wonderful to me this whole stay! I supposed...I supposed it was the severity of the mess that made me want to hack a pony down to size. At least you're not claiming it was the air quality again. That's just dumb; do you really think like that? But to be fair, the situation deserved to be treated honestly and without a thousand little peacekeeping measures. Even if the Hell of Peace were a hoax, the moral rang true. ... She frowned deeper as she continued: “I'd just...rather wait until the whole deal blows over. I don't want anypony--” “Gettin' hurt? What did Ah jus' say, June?” “Anypony else,” she continued, clearly irritated. Crud. “It was an accident, after all. And if other ponies find out from me telling you,” she said with a hoof clearly pointing to the tabloid researchers hiding outside, “and they find him...who's to say an accident can't happen twice?” That...was actually a good point. I couldn't even count the number of times AJ bucked the air out of mere frustration. It took a great deal of restraint not to do it myself when I was angry. But I did learn it; by every cloud in the sky, did I learn it. Caramel, on the other hoof...it was hard to say now. He knew what he did, and it probably deeply unnerved him. Hmph. So that's your verdict on me. At least it explains AJ's reaction toward me. “Well...”, I stalled, searching for options, “Ah'll tell you whut. You can jus' tell me in a way only Ah would understand.” “Big brother!” “...An' Bloom, Ah suppose.” “Thank you.” June stopped and stared into the middle distance. Oh, like she was going to slip out of this one! “Look at me an' jus'...imply it. S'okay. Look me in th' eyes an' tell me, babe.” With no escape, she ended up locking eyes with me. Such sweet eyes...the brightest emerald green outside of a jeweler's shop. Even when they were heavy-lidded or bloodshot, they still gave a clear picture of who she was without even trying. I never had to guess with her, never doubted her honesty: I just looked at her eyes. Who wouldn't get pulled into that effortless gaze? Who wouldn't have even a little bit more energy to get out of bed, just to see the mare with the forest glimmer? As I returned her stare and let myself melt into that glimmer...I couldn't think of a single soul that wouldn't do the same. ...Good. Sounds like things are going well. I also couldn't think of an easier way to make her cave. And sure enough, she eventually shifted her gaze to the right. “Dammit!”, said Junebug. “Language!”, objected Bloom. “Never mind that, sugarcube,” I said, silently feeling a little smug. “Now, I believe you were going to tell me, June?” June sighed a similarly weary sigh as Fluttershy's. I had trouble sympathizing with this one, though. It had taken long enough to get this simple information, goodness me! “Well...I brought up the idea with Applejack a few days ago, and she didn't deny it. But she didn't confirm it, either. It's just...given what's happened and who Caramel is, there's really only one place he has left. I-I don't know if that was what--” “You did jus' fine, babe,” I soothed. “It's...it's a weight off my mind, that's all.” At least it would be for a short while. Thank Celestia that's over. The rest is just a request for me to respond... “Well,” I said to the one pony in earshot, “that was a very entertaining forgery. I didn't know you dabbled in fiction writing, Braeburn.” “WHUT?!”, cried my funny author. “Don' be makin' fibs like that, pardner. Shame on you fer even thinkin' Ah would make up a letter from mah own cousin! An' would you buck that darn tree already, if'n yer gonna pose like that?!” I set the far-too-long letter down on the ground as carefully as I could. The pages stayed firmly against my shoe as it inched down, not fluttering in the wind or threatening to tilt too far in one direction. Once it was free to be swept away, I let the energy coiled in my legs tighten and vibrate...to a point. "You've been doin' that all week, an' Ah'm gettin' annoyed jus' seein' it! Whut's so rewardin' 'bout holdin' yer legs against an apple tree like that, anyway? Ah jus' don' git that." I bucked the tree I was threatening to buck for fifteen minutes, each Yellow Delicious tumbling down in as orderly a fashion as could be made. Then I relaxed my muscles calmly and stepped down, without scratching the bark. Everything went perfectly. It wasn't the performance that was the problem, no. It was the reception. “...Now!”, continued my employer. “Ah'm sure Ah don' know whut you mean 'bout forgin' anythin', Caramel. Not a clue.” I looked at the one pony who willingly greeted me when I was here: the greatest success of my life. The town was beautiful again, completely restored. Nopony needed me anymore, and yet here I was. It wasn't that the rest of them weren't warm toward me. I couldn't say exactly what emotion greeted me throughout the town, sadly for me. All I could concretely say about the town occurred to me when this pony decided he could use my help. With the money I needed and the friends I needed even more...Braeburn's actions did show me that he wasn't my enemy. Although the money turned out to be a non-issue. “...Maybe not,” I conceded. “I'm sorry for that, buddy, it's just...this letter was definitely made up by somepony. It's way too detailed and meandering; Big Mac would never have written this. Or the forger could have altered it. Yeah, they probably altered it to put in their own details...but why in any hell would they do that?” “You gonna stop talkin' nonsense now?” I came out of my reverie at the quip and looked to the sky. It was almost sundown. “You watched me git th' letter from th' post, anyway. Albeit from back here. You sayin' somepony 'altered' it while it was in mah own hooves?” The wind stopped. The letter hadn't done anything but flap in the crosswind, and now it just sat in front of me. It didn't do anything, nothing at all. “...Braeburn?” “...Yes, pardner?” “Do you...do you like having me here?” Braeburn frowned. But then he turned away and looked to the town as he answered me. I understood completely. “It's hard t'say, really. You've got a heck of a mouth on ya, an' it's clear yer hurtin', but...even with everythin' you got goin' on, yer helpful an' you stay out o' trouble. Ah'm not worried 'bout you, t'be perfectly honest.” “...But do you like having me here?”, I persisted for some reason. Braeburn still looked at the town, and I still understood. “Yer not mah kind o' pony. But Ah cain't blame you fer that. Jus' do yer job an' we'll be fine.” “...Fair enough.” “Oh, speakin' o' that...”, Braeburn continued, “erm...” “You going to let me take care of the whole orchard, now?”, I teased. “I told you, you wouldn't regret it.” “W-Well, that's 'zactly th' thing, really. But it's actually out o' mah hooves.” What? “Why would it be--” “They...”, stammered Braeburn, “they've been talkin' 'bout th' fact we're hidin' you, an'...they don' jus' want free labor anymore. They want you t'work th' entire orchard in exchange fer keepin' this all under wraps.” "..." So there it was. I stood next to him as we both looked to the Sheriff's Office. The other townsponies must have gotten him on their side, and now they were showing their real colors. I supposed it shouldn't have surprised me, and quite frankly it didn't. Ponies and opportunity mixed extremely well this year; the letter got that part right, at least. From a summer hero to an autumn slave...I supposed I had it coming. “Well...I'm not really in a position to say no. I'll still have room and board, right?” Braeburn said nothing until the sun finally set. Each and every star seemed to flicker inconsistently; some were brighter than others in strange places. I couldn't find any constellations with the confusing changes, so I just twirled Cheerilee for some time. “Ah hate this,” I finally heard over the whistling metal. “Ah don' like usin' that word, but Ah hate this arrangement.” “...I can stay with somepony else, if it's a bother,” I offered. “S'not that. They jus' want a bite o' the rich life, an' they're gonna exploit ya fer it. It's DISGUSTING. Harbor a criminal, an' make him build you a palace? T'ain't th' Appleloosa Ah know an' love! Ah cain't even fathom it: before we even rebuilt everythin' from th' ground up, somethin' jus'...died in this town. That world-shaker knocked somethin' loose, an' Ah'm gonna see it git put back. Wuz it really an accident?” “It's a downright shame,” I answered, “but I bet you have what it takes to...wait, WHAT?” “Y-You heard me.” The wind picked back up. The desert had already cooled to that horrible extreme again, piercing my insides with its cold barbs. Ponyville's winters never had winds so sharp; only three weeks and I was already losing morale. But that wouldn't affect me here: the answer was obvious. It was obvious! Why did everypony keep asking it when it was so damn obvious?! “Yes, of course it was.” “...Alright.” “I was scared; I just...something took over.” “Ah gotcha. Ah just wanted t'hear it from you.” “Fine, but...why wouldn't it be an accident? Really. I'd love to know. Most of the gossip I hear when I'm close to town is what everypony's 'theory' is. What's so ambiguous about it?” Braeburn stalled. If anything, he seemed a little peeved? “Lemme ask you this, then,” said Braeburn. “You an' him...'zit gonna be like this for th' rest o'--” “He has his life, and I have mine.” “...” “I-I mean, he wants to start a new life with his somepony. I feel I should just let him, and I'll...I'll clean up my mess and just start over.” “Jus' start over?” It was so fucking cold. “Yeah. I'll figure something out. I've lived for long enough on my own. It'll...you know, I just remembered something.” “Yes?” “Could you deliver a letter for me tomorrow? It's about time I kept my promise.” They forgot about me. I blew into the desert wind alone. I flapped above the lucky trees alone. I flew over the barren wastes alone. And I was stuck against a mighty cliff face alone, with writing on my own face. They never read what my face had to say. And I became stuck on the face of a cliff. I never saw what was written on it; I was facing the wrong way. ...write back to me, then it would get rid of the needless tension between us. I see what happened for what it is, and with time, you and everypony else will, too. This brings me to what I need to say to you. I talked to Braeburn (in a private letter, in case you're worried), and he told me your sticky situation. And so I've decided...even though I appreciate the support and sentiment of it, I'm using the rest of the money to call off your case. From what he told me, you seem to be struggling to start a new life. I don't want you to be haunted by what happened more than you have to be, and I know you're scared to death of something. So consider this my goodwill parting gift. I'll persuade them to drop the charges and to forgo investigating any accomplices. With this much, it'll be easy as pie. With that, Appleloosa can't blackmail you worth two bits...dear Celestia, I just wrote that sentence. I live in a world where that sentence exists. They're still looking for your daddy; I doubt my 'persuasion' would end that search. Anyway, if you don't want to come back to Ponyville, that's fine. It really is up to you. But if you change your mind, just know it doesn't have to end this way with us. Keep your promise and get help. It'll be fine. If you admit that you did it on purpose after the treatment, they should have pity on you; I know we do. I still care about you, even with June in my heart. Stay safe, “Big” Macintosh P.S. I am deeply sorry about that mess I threatened; I'm really going to put that attitude behind me. But please don't make my efforts worthless by looking for him. You have your own problems. TraitorsCelestia's sun was almost at its noon perch, shedding the last of summer's heat like a nuisance. The plants were slowly but surely straightening back from the months of oppression, their animal neighbors adjusting to the changing food sources. The wind was still blowing mildly, tossing the manes of the gathered ponies as if still deciding which way they were to be ruined. Such a relaxed and measured part of the day would only mean one thing: Truth. Neither of the competitors swayed with the breeze. Caramel's hair was long since flattened into strands and slick with sweat. Big Macintosh's hair was even more haggered than Caramel's, hanging in front of his glasses and obscuring his vision. The irony wasn't lost on either of them...but they truly didn't care. They couldn't even understand the crowd anymore. All they understood was the cloud of dread fogging both their minds. The pain, the rage, and the fear born in the pair wavered and persisted with the straining hooves. Either one of them might have said that time stood still...but what truly held their thoughts was the mirrored anguish in the eyes of the other. No matter how much it flew in the face of reason...it hurt like all six hells to see the pony so miserable. So much had changed, yet so much had stayed the same; it was clear now. How could any of it be real? How could the horrible mess they were in have come to be in less than a week? ...And did the other even understand just what he had done? “How in Equestria did you manage to get that letter? That was a--” “Doesn't matter,” snapped Big Macintosh. “Ah got it, an' Ah saw whut you hid from me. Why'd you do it?” “First of all,” started Caramel, “Lemme make it clear I didn't ask my dad to shoe me. I...nnngh!...asked a professional blacksmith to do it because he's the--” “Stop right there,” Mac interrupted again. “Ah don' even wanna know. Tell me why you lied t'me about yer daddy shoein' you.” Mel used his free hoof to try (and fail) to wipe the hair from his eyes. “...I'll tell you why I lied to you when you tell me where you got that letter.” Mac chuckled through gnashing teeth. “Yer a real piece o' work, you know that? Ah see it now. Jus' manipulate yer target 'till he caves, don' bother t'be responsible or nothin'.” Mel visibly sagged behind the stump, but kept his hoof strong against his opponent's. “I-I guess there's...,” mumbled Caramel before pulling himself up, “no point in being nice, then. Tell me where you got that letter.” “Look at yerself, hon. Yer in no position t'make demands,” Gnashing Macintosh insisted. “Well, neither are you,” countered Caramel with a glare to Junebug. She seemed at a loss for words, or really anything. Big Macintosh deliberately maintained his own glare on him, not saying a thing. The eyes of the crowd couldn't prick them if they tried. “It was Twilight, wasn't it?” That made him stop. The treacherous pony actually faltered, just a little. “Ah said it doesn't matter.” “Like hells it doesn't matter!”, yelled Caramel for anypony to hear. “That was private mail! Nopony should have had access to it but my doctor. But that nosy egghead was sneaking around us for weeks doing her 'research'! She would manage to get it, wouldn't she?!” The crowd looked around them to find Twilight, but she was nowhere to be seen. Eventually, Caramel took a deep breath and conceded. “It doesn't matter that I didn't tell you. That pony's just a blacksmith to me.” “Oh, don' you even dare pull that with me,” retorted Macintosh. “He's yer daddy...bless yer heart. He's th' one who shoved nails in yer...gah!...jus' thinkin' 'bout it makes me ill.” Mel gained ground on Mac. “It's the truth, babe. I just...didn't trust anypony else to do it, and why would I? I mean, think about it!” Mac stopped the advance at one hundred and thirty degrees above the stump. “Ah cain't. Ah cain't even imagine...whut made you put yer trust in him. Ah don' git that at all.” “Hmph,” grunted Caramel. “I guess you'll believe what you want anyway. You're good at that.” “T'ain't an explanation,” grunted Macintosh, “fer why you went Behind! Mah! Back! and snuck him in t'shoe you without even tellin' me after. Jus'...why, babe?! Didja think Ah wuz gonna—” “Yes.” The hooves returned to equilibrium. The breeze blew stronger than before, and the crowd was muted to the barest sound above silence. “...Like Ah said. Unbelievable. You really thought Ah woulda killed somepony?” “...You're scary when you're mad. Really scary. Or at least to somepony who's actually scared of you,” Caramel added sourly. “Th-That wuz all jus' big talk, you silly pony!” “Hah!”, spat Caramel. “If you were a normal pony, then it would have just been big talk. YOU, on the other hoof, aren't so typical. You're all eeyups and nnopes one second and threatening my kin the next!” Macintosh lost ground to Caramel. He was surprisingly able to ignore the bruises Caramel had given him. “Yer kin?!,” blustered Macintosh. “You still see him as yer KIN?! He doesn't deserve th' dirt he walks on! Do Ah hafta even MENTION how ruined yer life? Do Ah? “An' look at you, defendin' him AGAIN. Sweet Celestia, he's got you under his hoof. Ah don' need t'be a clever pony t'know you jus' REVERSED whut you said before--an' Ah cain't even THINK about whut that says 'bout him or you, not now.” The wind grew stronger, managing to ruffle a few sweaty strands of their manes. It was uncomfortably hot. “...Then don't,” countered Caramel. “Instead, maybe you should think about what that speech you just gave says about YOU.” Spike coughed into the microphone. The entire crowd was peering at Big Macintosh; Caramel didn't even have to see them to know that. “Fine! Ah admit Ah had some evil thoughts...everypony does it! But it wuz mostly jus' wantin' t'protect you, an' you KNEW that. You had no good reason not t'tell me.” As the wind blustered and battered them both, the heartbroken lovers re-ignited their fury and wrestled each other with even more ferocity. “N-Now it seems t-the contestants are going all out!”, said Spike. “This has to be the longest hoof wrestling on record...good grief..." “Well, would you have let...aagh!...let me do it if I told you? And don't bother lying.” Caramel lost ground to Macintosh. He couldn't help but wince once he saw the bruises on his opponent's leg. “Ah don' rightly know. Ah do know Ah wouldn't wanta do this if'n you did! Look at me...you-nngh!...you did this to me!” Mel stopped the advance at sixty degrees above the stump. He said nothing. "I-I would ask the contestants to keep their qualms to themselves, though...it's offputting, t-to say the least.” They stopped and glared at the judge through sweat-drenched hair. “Pleasedon'thurtme!” Some of the crowd began to nervously leave the arena, the others too scared to move. “An' Ah don' buy that hooey 'bout you...gah!...thinkin' yer daddy's not yer daddy or whutever. Ah don' believe yer that sick. Don' ask me why, Ah jus' don'.” “I said what I meant and meant what I said, dahling. Just like you always do.” “AH NEVER ACTUALLY MEANT TA...you know whut? It don' matter none. Ah trusted you, an' then you pulled this.” Equilibrium. “So you don't trust me?”, scoffed Caramel. “I suppose we're in the same boat, then. I trusted you, and then you ran off with some mare who might not even like you back! So...tell me. Does she?” They both looked to the crowd: Junebug was gone, and so were her flowers. “That's th' stupidest...look, nothin' happened, alright?”, admitted Macintosh, his fury weakening slightly. “Ah jus'...needed a break.” The midday sun stopped directly above them, banishing the barest trace of a shadow to the Hell of Apathy. “...Just what?”, said Caramel. “Just what?!” “You heard me, traitor.” He felt his bile rise again. “You heard me loud an' clear!” “I don't think – no, I don't think I did! Speak clearly now!” The unsteady stalemate broke, wavering unpredictably between right and left. Their hooves scraped and tore into each other without rhyme or reason, getting closer and closer to what could only be an all-out brawl until-- “I'd like to point out,” shouted a reporter pony from the bleachers, “that everything being said here is going to be on record. I normally wouldn't say this, but if you two don't want any undue attention...” The two slowed down dramatically, breaking their stare to pay attention to the straw-colored mare. She didn't seem deterred in the slightest. “...then you two should watch what you say from here on out.” Their lips wisely clamped shut; but it made no difference. Their wordless faces illustrated the story their minds were narrating scornfully. They were done talking, and so was the crowd as the visibly exhausted hooves restarted the mission to break each other. The wind stopped. Ah...Ah jus' needed a break. It's not easy bein' with you sometimes. That's all. What the hells kind of response is that? You didn't answer my question at all. Ah did answer yer question. Nothin' happened, period. Why should I believe nothing happened? I have no reason to; you didn't even read my letter! What else am I supposed to think, that your tastes suddenly flipped?! Ah done told you everythin' you need t'know. Ah told you th' truth. If you told me the truth, prove it. Tell me what you did do with her. Big Macintosh softened his lips from the grimace, but said nothing. I knew it. I knew it since the cult came to town! You dirty cheater; who's the traitor now?! Yer thinkin' Ah'm th' traitor now, aren't you? T'ain't th' same thing, an' you know it! I can not believe you did that. And to think you were too scared to go all the way when we-- DON' LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT, AH...Ah dunno! Maybe somethin' happened, maybe it didn't; Ah dunno anymore! Now jus' give up, lemme win, an' Ah'll drop mah whole vendetta here. Big Macintosh doesn't make vendettas like this. He's better than that. Well, it seems Caramel ain't above betrayal. So why should Ah be above revenge in this competition? I bet you think it's my fault you wanted revenge. ...You changed me. Ah wuz good before Ah met you. Ah held back, Ah waited mah turn, Ah never swore, Ah never lost mah temper, an' Ah didn't doubt who Ah wuz. You ruined me, Shine. ...That's rich. I ruined you? Like you didn't destroy me at that damn stadium?! Oh, fer t'love of—yer still on that? That wuz MONTHS ago. It might as well have been yesterday! Big Macintosh looked toward Applebloom, who had her head buried in Applejack's shoulder. Look, you brat. Yer not th' only one t'ever be embarrassed. That damn paper Bloom an' 'em did put th' whole town-- The Foalfree Express Debacle? How would that match up to... Caramel looked toward the barn. ...oh. OH! So THAT'S where I saw it before! Both of them grimaced. Huh? That ugly doll! I saw your picture in the paper with that doll! I thought I was delirious from rainwater or something. ...You, you didn't...stop that! Y-You cain't think that 'bout Patches! You never gave her a chance! She ain't done nothin' wrong, an' she ain't ugly! ...Mac. Hon. It's hideous. It needs to be replaced. You are NEVER gonna replace Patches. Nopony could ever replace her; don' even think 'bout it, traitor. Well...then let's 'repair' it. That doll could really sure some 'repair'. It's too late t'repair her now, not that Ah wanted ta! She got torn up by some monster an' laid in front o' mah... Caramel looked directly to Big Macintosh's bedroom and grinned. Big Macintosh gaped. ...Ah knew it. Caramel waggled his eyebrows as he beamed. AH KNEW IT WUZ YOU. SHE HAD SCUFF MARKS FROM YER FUCKIN' SHOES. THAT...that does it. Ah'm done with you. ...What? Macintosh's glare broke, falling into a deep, exhausted frown. Ah cain't do this, Ah jus' cain't. Yer not th' pony Ah fell in love with anymore. Maybe you never were. W-what?! No! I'm the one who gets to break it off, not you! Takes two t'tango, babe. An' mah legs are bone tired. That's not how...w-we're really...finished, then? We're really finished. I...good! Good riddance! I can't deal with this either! Yer not welcome in mah house, or near mah family fer that matter. Nor you mine! They both laid their hooves down on the long since broken wood and sluggishly rubbed their front legs with the opposite. After a while, they both walked up to Spike with stomachs caked in mud, molded fresh from old earth and new sweat. Caramel Shine thought of Paradise. Big Macintosh thought of caramel-covered daisies and how he could never eat them again for as long as he lived. Their faces could only have been blank. “It...”, said Spike shakily, “it seems the hoof wrestling is a mutual forfeit. With the scores as they are, this Iron Pony Competition has no winner.” The crowd was breathless. Spike soundlessly checked his watch. Tick. Tock. “Ah-Ah did read yer letter, by th' way,” Mac offered as an afterthought, keeping his face forward. “But it's clear t'ain't important now.” Tick. Tock. “...I suppose not.” Ba-dum. Ba-dum. “So...?”, said Caramel. “Eeyup,” said Big Macintosh. Tick. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Tock. “...I'll just go then,” announced Caramel. His spent legs used their last ounce of strength to carry him toward home. “Bye...”, said Spike. The silver medals laid half-buried in the upturned soil. They were dull. Tick. Tock. Ba-dum. The gold trophy sitting next to Spike glared sunlight in Big Macintosh's eyes. He half-wished it had blinded him. ImpossibleHorseshoes By Peter Yellowhammer Celestia's sun had climbed to the center of the sky, making all shadows underneath retreat into their hosts. Their sleepy haze completely dispelled, all the creatures big and small eagerly hunted their food, be it nectar or grasses or insects or/and each other. The trees still had to shed their final blossomed petals as a gentle, humid breeze rocked them. A moment in the day so relaxed and measured could only mean one thing: Game time. With the Stallions' Field Cup just minutes away from its inception, the ticket holders were swamped with droves of late arrivals. They decided to just sell the tickets as quickly as they could and levitate the requisite bits for entry, especially since the lines were stretched all the way toward the entrance of Ponyville. But they weren't actually worried; enough seating was left for three more lines of the same length. The stadium commissioners made sure to accommodate for anything and everything, despite the project's uncertain future. Pamphlets of the track-and-field/miscellany for that day were handed out sporadically, not that the spectators would have noticed or cared for more than three seconds before finally looking inside the new attraction for the first time. They cantered up the stairs into the new, swanky stadium in a steady stream now, most of them discussing the probable champions from each participating region. Some of them marveled at the almost completely Unicorn-made field, manipulable for seemingly any event except for the central platform; as a declaration of control, the local Earth Ponies insisted on constructing it in addition to the rest of the stadium. Some of them quieted their outrage at the new, Canterlot-et-al types in Ponyville flaunting their excess, to appreciate just how small and unnoticeable the several-stories height made them feel. And some of them (most of them) silently took in the minimalist style in which the inner stadium was crafted, creating a facsimile to the ancient training grounds of pony warriors that were long since destroyed. A few of them even carelessly shared jokes about how awkward it would be if some doofus managed to enter the competition. Caramel stopped his push-ups to take in the sight of ponies from all corners of Equestria (and some from even further away) quickly filling up the rest of the red plush seats all around the turf where he stood. An almost overbearing coalition of colors were audibly gossiping, cheering, placing bets, and even performing gymnastics as much as the close-proximity seating and the private security guards would permit. Scouting out the mares made him realize just how massive the stadium was, holding thousands of ponies barely containing themselves. It was a sea of animation towering above him. “Whoa...” He examined the lowest level of seating, long since filled with the aristocrats who funded the stadium from top to bottom. They seemed content to watch the lower classes file in and make ruckus, with only a few discussing the competitors...? Or maybe they were talking about rich pony stuff? If only they were shouting about it like the others, then he could tell. Oh well, who actually cared? “You just gonna stand there 'n stare all day?” “W-What? OH!”, Caramel blustered, hastily returning to his push-ups with a deep blush he was intent to ignore. Rick Shaw cleared his throat before asking: “I don't mean ta be rude, kiddo...but why 'zactly 're ya competing in this? You're not really the athletic type...more a klutz.” The blushing pony had already overdone the push-ups, forcing him to rest on the astroturf platform right in the middle of the action. He took some time to catch his breath. “It's...*pant*...not about athleticism--” “That's EXACTLY what it's—” “Let me finish,” Caramel grunted. “It's not about athleticism for me. I'm just here to have a good time until it's time to throw shoes.” The large taxi pony switched from core stretches to lower body stretches as his...warm-up partner, maybe?...cautiously mimicked him. “Why wouldja enter a track-and-field just ta throw some shoes? What, 're ya looking ta show off yer talent ta the mares?” Rick laughed and waved when one of said mares shouted to him. “Something like that,” Caramel admitted. “I figured a little...showboating when I make the throws could snag me a hot date. Or maybe something else just as good.” He flinched as a mid-morning wind suddenly rushed from the competitors' entryway behind him, making his hair flap in front of his eyes. Rick Shaw chuckled and nudged the stretching pony before returning to it himself. Caramel felt itchy. “I gotcha, I gotcha. Well, good luck with that...if it'll even work.” “Oh, it'll work.” “Oh?” Rick cocked his eyebrows. “Ya sound a lil' smug there, lil' stud.” Caramel stopped mid-stretch to scrutinize the taxi pony to his left. He wasn't serious, was he? “Don't call me a stud unless you're...” “Unless I'm...?” He was tempted to actually put his hoof in his mouth. Maybe then he would feel better. “...Nevermind.” “...Anyway,” Rick continued, “I dunno about what you said. I hear Big Macintosh is pretty good at shoe tricks, too. Isn't that right, buddy?” Caramel begrudgingly looked to his right: the big red lug was doing a grand stretch like a cat as he was pulled into the conversation. Of course such hulking ponies had to warm up on both sides of the 'lil' stud' to make him nervous. But he needed to focus; this was too important! On the other hoof, he realized that Macintosh had to be listening the whole time. Which meant he heard... ...Well, so much for impressing the competition. But then again, that was never the plan from the start. “...Eeyup,” said Big Macintosh as he relaxed. Caramel wondered if that pony cared that a good portion of the stadium got an eyeful with that stretch. If the cameras were any indication, then the mares behind them certainly did. “Well, 'pretty good' isn't 'amazing',” he answered. “Just you wait and see, both of you. None of you are my concern today...and not for the rest of my life.” He almost felt the other two scrutinize him at that remark...but Rick Shaw said nothing as he continued stretching. Looking to his right, he saw Big Macintosh hurriedly look away, now focusing on the mares seated in the west part of the stadium. The big lug must have been distractible with everything happening; this wasn't exactly typical for him, after all. ...Why was Big Mac competing, anyway? Thoughts of this nature were swept from his mind as Pinkie Pie's shrill cheers reached him from somewhere on his right. Great. Of all the ponies for him to think about watching him, he picked that bunch: the very last ponies he wanted to see this, besides...well...Thankfully, he couldn't hear anything else out of the blurred cacophony; but he could imagine well enough what she and her friends were saying. “So who do you think, Twilight? Huh-huh-huh-huh-huh-huh?!” “There are a lot of good candidates out there, Pinkie Pie; I really can't say.” “There's a lot o' good candidates, but only one Big Macintosh," affirmed Applejack. "He's gonna sweep it all, Ah can tell y'all that right now. KNOCK 'EM OUT, BIG BROTHER! APPLES FOREVER!” “I never thought I would see him compete in something like this. Or really at all. He's usually so reserved, and modest, and...reserved.” “I think it's awesome; we never get to see the big guy in action! I mean, can you imagine just what Big Mac's capable of when he's relaxed?! It's gonna be sick!” “Well, that's not good. I didn't bring any barf bags with me!” “...That's not what I...you know what? Forget it.” “Forget what?” “Exactly.” “Hush, girls; it's starting!” “Fillies and gentlecolts, welcome to the first competition of the Ponyville Jubilee: the Stallions' Field Cup!” The crowd roared. Spike grinned like a madpony. “Today, we're here to see the best of the best, the fittest of the fittest...and Caramel..." Caramel smiled. "...compete for the honor of being known as the top stallion in Ponyville and even Equestria! In just one minute, the Elliptical Dash will begin, so would the participants please make their way to the starting line?” Chants and declarations bounced off the stadium walls from all directions. Applejack's section started a chant for her brother - at her behest - which overpowered most of the others around them. It reached down to the starting line on the track...and Big Macintosh had a big, goofy grin slowly taking over his face. Caramel just kept his face forward. The grand marshal waved the flag, and the Elliptical Dash started. “GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “Wow, that blue one is neck and neck with Big Mac. W-what was his name again?” “WHO THE HAY CARES?! GO GO GO GO!” “WOW, look at them run like there's cupcakes at the finish line! I wonder if that's the reward for—Oooohhh...” “Ouch.” “No kidding. Full stop on his back? He'll feel that in the morning.” "That hopeless pony couldn't dash if'n he changed his name t'it. Oh, but look at him go anyway!” “HEY! Just what are you implying?” “Was Ah implyin' anythin'?!” “Girls, calm down, there's no need to—oh yeah, go go GO GO GO!” “DON'T GIVE THAT GREENHORN AN INCH, BIG BROTHER!” “GO GO GO—WHOOOOOAH YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAHHH!” The next fifteen seconds left the five ponies rubbing their ringing ears; the mares seated three rows behind them screamed loud enough for the whole west side of the stadium. Humid spring air rushed past all of them, making them sweaty and itchy; but they easily tolerated it as they cheered themselves. "The undisputed winner of the Elliptical Dash is Big Macintosh!" Thankfully, the cheering for the announcement itself was just the fading cheer for him crossing the finish line. The ponies below the shrieking mares got a brief respite, which only made them more eager to discuss what happened. “Oh, pony, THAT...was INTENSE. Did you see how he kept us fooled until the end? Just vaulted ahead of that loser at the last second.” “That turkey! Ah never knew Mac t'mess with a crowd. Then again, Ah've never seen him with any crowd.” “Am I the only one who noticed the dirt on the track?” “Huh? Wha—that's jus' disgraceful! Ah thought this wuz supposed t'be a ritzy setup! Ah guess that goes t'show t'ain't no substitute fer hard an' thorough work.” “Um...what's the next event again? Pinkie ate my brochure by accident...” “Heh heh...sorry. I get munchy when I'm nervous.” “Since when?” “Well, duh: since today!” “The next event is Randomized Hurdling, and it starts...is Big Macintosh...swaggering? Huh?” “We-hell, buck mah apples; mah big brother's been a big showoff all this time! Well, he deserves t'be, Ah'll tell you whut.” “YOU SHOW THEM WHO'S BOSS, BIG MAC! PONYVILLE FOR THE WIN!” “Yes. The racers from Paint seem very nice but...woohoo.” The west section of the stadium steadily began to quiet down, despite the other sections blasting the Ponyville Showoff for a bad attitude. Applejack considered starting a counter-rant, but at the last second she reaffirmed her faith that her brother could more than handle himself. She had other thoughts burdening her, anyway. Mostly, she wished she wasn't so busy that she couldn't bring Applebloom with her. Maybe she was one of the shriekers? It was impossible for her to tell with so many ponies above and around her! The stadium finally settled into low-volume gossip on all sides, mostly due to the competitors having left the field in order for the unicorns to change it for the next event. “...It's a shame Rarity couldn't be here.” “W-what brought that up?!," objected Rainbow Dash. "This is supposed to be a fun day, remember, Twilight?!” “It's just...that's the point. This is a great way for us to unwind, what with...everything.” All five bowed their heads in remembrance. “Well, crazy times call for cah-RAZY partying! I've got an idea; let's place some petty bets on our racing friends!” “Don' be silly, Pinkie. We'd all bet fer th' same stallion! It'd be like bettin' who's gonna be Princess Celestia next year.” "A-and we shouldn't go wasting our bits, you know." “Not to mention gambling is immoral.” “Not to...yeah, what she said...ha ha ha...” The other four looked at Rainbow flushing generously before the announcer called the competitors to the changed field. While the spectators chatted about the handsome red steed or the devilish red blowhard, the grips took exactly five seconds to rearrange the track into a wavy, hidden-obstacled path. As magical as Ponyville was, it was still dazzling to see just what money could do. The competitors lined up, the flag waved, and they were off. The racers dodged the twists and turns as best they could. The Appleloosan favorite kept up with the Ponyville favorite until the former got caught in a slip-spin on the rootless tree. Funnily enough, while the others racers ignored it, the force of his spin knocked Caramel above the tree and past most of the other racers, getting him closer and closer to the finish line...until his tumbling body broke his momentum on the track. The sideline nurses got a good laugh from that, as did a reasonable percentage of the east side. He rolled weakly into second place, which the judges awarded him somewhat out of pity, but mostly out of entertainment value. Big Macintosh won. The west crowd (Ponyville) cheered, and the east crowd (Paint Country) booed, the north and south (various sections of Equestria) just along for the ride. The victor was lauded by Spike as he helped Caramel up from the dirty track...and gave the embarrassed pony the smuggest grin either of them had known. Caramel felt itchy. Next was simpler: hoof wrestling. The competitors paired off and paired off again until the last two stallions wrestled each other. Predictably, Big Macintosh won. Predictably, the west crowd cheered...but the north and the south started to join them. When Caramel was paired with him, however, the red lug eyed him with fire in his eyes. The former braced himself for hurt as he put his hoof to his opponent and pushed for all he was worth. Infuriatingly, the latter teased him as he led him to almost win a couple of times before soundly and gracefully turning his hoof to the side. With a waggle of his eyebrows, the ironic competitor swaggered off to match strength with the Canterlot Champion, who got his own version of teasing. Next was the weighted triple jump. Each was fitted with padding proportioned to challenge them while still allowing for mobility; the challenge was who could make the most of it. It wasn't the most exciting event for either the competitors or the crowd, but the latter still enjoyed how their favorite turned the challenge into a hopping show. Even with such an aerodynamically inefficient approach, he still won against Rick Shaw's bound by a small margin, which was impressive in its own right. Caramel was just thankful that they jumped in pairs, making the crowd focus on the tired Appleloosan instead of his unremarkable performance. Nopony else heard it, but Caramel and the other competitors certainly heard Big Macintosh chuckle softly before he hopped away. They all felt the ambient temperature rise as they fumed together. The next few events were a blur to even those paying attention. The only thing that still interested the crowd was how Big Macintosh was going to pull off another showy victory. He waved to them and grinned at them, raising his profile as high as possible by whatever means appropriate. The judges and Spike all publicly noted how the stadium as a whole was eating out of his hoof, especially the mares. The sea of animation was rising into a tidal wave of infatuation for the star of the afternoon; even the eastern crowd was beginning to cheer for him. But Caramel just waited patiently. At long last, the Shoe Throwing was at hoof. The competitors would either cement their place holdings or made one last upset by each tossing five shoes quickly, accurately, and neatly to the opposing posts just seven meters from them. The number seven, one more than the number of hells for luck: Caramel always thought it was rather heavy-hoofed. The three criteria would be measured separately, then tabulated to determine the ranking. For Caramel, it was just a matter of concentration, reactivity... ...and putting that treacherous pony in his place! The crowd turned to aimless murmuring, as he expected. Shoe throwing was just something for the ritzy types funding the events who wanted one of their more popular “sports” to be featured. The locals just thought it was a ceremony to symbolize some hogwash about something silly. It was a foal's game, after all. At least, that's what it would be until the bar was raised... The grand marshal raised his flag. Caramel pressed his weight, his energy, his entire being to his servants below him. He already felt them bending to his will, the useless things. They had to land perfectly and beyond reproach, and he knew just how to do it. The flag came down. He whipped the shoes in rapid fire to the goal, seeing them angle toward it as if in slow motion. They formed a follow-the-leader chain as the first shoe started falling to the ground, right were it was supposed to fall. The others following were slightly elevated from each other, making it easier for them to settle quickly. He saw the others fly in passable patterns, but he knew he had already won. Clank. The first shoe connected without issue. C-clank. The second shoe connected as planned: no spinning. Clank. Same with the third. Clank. The fourth was good...! The last one was just inches away from its goal-- CLUNK! Caramel didn't even see it. He couldn't have seen it. He didn't dare to move as he looked to his left. The post ahead of Big Macintosh had five shoes stacked flawlessly, just a split second before his own fifth shoe landed at the post. That overfed showoff of a pony could have only done that one way: he had to have thrown the five shoes as one unit, like they were stuck together. He didn't even know that was possible. He vaguely heard ponies cheering. He only barely detected the other competitors moving toward the center for awards. He just saw the perfect shoes and messy shoes sitting next to each other as his eyes burned. Without even trying, Big Mac had turned his talent in life into nothing short of a joke. A massive cloud of confetti burst from the west section of the seats. Caramel wordlessly covered himself in the sickeningly bright mess and dragged himself toward the entryway, not even caring when most of it fell off. He knew nopony was watching him anyway. ...His talent was a joke, after all. Apples and Oranges“So lemme get this straight: Caramel doesn't have any place to stay whatsoever...” “Nnope.” “He's been livin' off our backup feed fer roughly a year...” “Eeyup.” “An' his job prospects are non-existent, due t'his...condition.” “Eeeeeeyup.” "I don't see why they had to duck around the corner! So skittish, those two, and no mistake!" Big Macintosh winced at the city voices bouncing off the ornate walls. Living with the Oranges felt like living on a completely different farm; and in a way, it was a completely different farm. The ritzy house in which they now lived - built by him, mostly - stood deep in the acreage with a recently-hewn trail leading up to it. The charcoal grey line looked completely out of place next to the apple and orange saplings, but the new money in Ponyville seemed to like it. And that was how it was: if the Oranges' friends liked it, then it stayed. That wasn't even touching on the new crop schedule that had been implemented far too late to be ideal. The seeding during Winter Wrap-Up had been botched horribly, so none of the Apples were fit to complain...but growing oranges on an apple farm was just weird. Macintosh understood it was for extra profit, even sympathizing wholeheartedly with wanting to cover unseen expenses from sudden disasters on their original farm land. But that didn't change the fact that oranges and apples just didn't compare. Applejack sighed, then continued to whisper: “Well, this explains why he wuz hidin' 'round th' farm like he wuz bored stiff...an' why wuz scared t'touch his plate, certainly. It's a cryin' shame, it is...if'n it's all genuine. Not that Ah believe he'd make all that up jus' t'freeload off us, but Ah need t'see him tryin' t'overcome that problem o' his.” “Eeyup.” “He can stay here until then, and no longer; he'll hafta bunk with you, Mister Champeen. Although...” Macintosh felt blood rush to his withers. He felt that 'although' didn't mean what it should have meant. “Hmm?”, he responded as he looked askance to the stairway. Why did he need to make the banister so gnarled? Why did he need to make a banister? He would never understand that, no matter how many times they said it gave the place "class." “Ah noticed you seem awful determined t'help him out. If'n Ah'm right, then maybe Ah should make both 'im and you sleep in that old barn. After all,” she teased huskily, “he's yer first.” Now his entire body was flushed with pumping blood. Applejack started chuckling softly at what must have been a remarkable blush to be seen against his red hide. “T-that look on yer face is somethin' Ah'll treasure until th' end o' mah days!” Her brother shook his head. His jaw dropped and his eyes had flown open without him realizing it. “And t'think you were so gung-ho at th' Cup. Ah guess some things never change, heh heh!” He grunted humorlessly. At least he had the decency to stay the same, unlike so many. “But in all seriousness,” she diverted, “you chose well with a sweetheart like him. Granny thinks so, Applebloom thinks so; frankly, we're just glad you didn't pick from any o' the new lot.” Macintosh grimaced at the thought. As if any of those uptight fops could replace Caramel. That smile, those eyes, the way he looked in the sunset; the colt was naturally better than any sickopant...silko... sycophant, that was it. Too many new vocab words clogged his head. Caramel... "Young Caramellow seems nice enough. A little on the thin side, a little nervous, but still..." "Oh, but he REEKED, Mosely! All that sweat and dirt, and that grotesque mane! He should have had the decency to wash up before making himself at home here!" "Well, at least he was apologetic, my dear." The echoing sound of haughty voices from the other side of the house reached Mac as they saw fit, making his neck want for a generous scratching. Just how good was their hearing, anyway? “And don't you fret about...those three,” she spat. “Yer good for confidin' in yer sis. Frankly, Ah'm just glad you told me when you did, now that things are dyin' down around town. Well, at least Ah hope they are...” Both of them looked out the nearest window. Ponyville's new lights were still shining brightly, blocking the stars from view. Nopony knew what was coming...so they had to keep as much the same as they could. And they had to do this while accommodating a new relationship and a search for hidden aptitude in an apparently temperamental Caramel. It wasn't going to be easy...but it would be worth it; he knew that more than anything else. He wanted to see that smile again, and he needed some work to clear his head anyway. “AJ?” AJ kept her gaze out to the town. She was completely still. “Yes, big brother?” “...Thank you. Fer everything. Ah couldn't handle this on mah own.” She finally turned to look at him, smiling sadly. “That's what family's for, sugarcube. Ah'll make those city slickers realize that if it's the last thing Ah do. You just worry about getting that klutz t'work, bless his heart.” Big Mac sighed. He had no idea how to start doing that, now that he thought about it. His mind replayed the beige hoof piercing the hay bale beyond all reason. Shoot, if doctors couldn't make heads or tails of it, what chance did he have?! He made himself take a deep breath. “...Mac?” “N-nothin'. Just thinkin'.” His sister squinted at him, but seemed to drop it. Then again, she was just as tired as any of them were. Just looking at the orange and blue and dark brown and...colors he couldn't even name around them made them tired. “Anyway, Ah just wanted t'say...you two have mah blessin'.” Just like that, his anxiety faltered and faded for the moment. Then he felt himself making a big, goofy grin for anypony to see. Applejack answered with her own. “After all, it's not like he could hurt a big, strong stud like yerself!” Mac's grin slipped into an embarrassed grimace. “AJ!” AJ waved it away. The voices were dying down and mixing with clinking silverware. “Oh, just go up to yer somepony. It's late.” Grumbling, he complied and headed for the stairs. He looked up to the room – his room – where an exhausted Caramel had retired for the night. It was a better conclusion to this roller coaster of a day than he could have asked for. “But if he does manage to hurt you,” he heard his sister call up to him darkly, “...it won't be pretty. Mark mah words.” The big, strong stud made one final exasperated glance to Applejack. She was too protective for the wrong reasons, and this wasn't the first time. If anything, he was worried about hurting Caramel...he had already done so by accident. But it wasn't like he didn't know what he was doing. His entire life was partly devoted to being gentle. Gentle...without any real power to flaunt...maybe that was why he...? Whatever, it didn't matter. “It won't be like that.” “You know what Ah mean.” Her face was deathly serious. He raised his eyebrows at her. They stared at each other wordlessly, each trying to undermine their opponent. Caramel... He lost his nerve and snorted defiantly before going up the rest of the stairs. It was time to write this day off as convoluted and leave it at that. “You two behave now, y'hear?”, she finished, her teasing tone revived. “Good night, Applejack!”, Caramel shouted from Big Macintosh's room. Finally letting herself breathe freely, the mare eavesdropping from behind the stairs grew pensive. This served as an interesting opportunity...but for what? Whatever it was, she was going to use it for what it was worth.
Smile“...but ohmigawsh, that was the funniest thing I'd seen in, like, evar!” Caramel smiled. “Heh. Yeah, yeah...it was pretty funny, wasn't it?" If misery is your sense of humor. “I never thought that, like, a tree could be funneh...but then you came in and just, like, made it work, lawl!” “Yeah, I sure did...so what were you looking for, again?” Besides an excuse to find Big Mac, I'm guessing? “Wha? OH! Yeah yeah, I need to, like, find that Macintosh guy, and I heard you usually know where he is, so...?” The gum chewing mare gave her best eyelash-flash to Caramel as he weighed his options. His decision? Lie. “He's probably out in the fields right now. The Cup's over, so you could—” “Okay, thanks much, buhbye!” She trotted off toward what she must have thought were the fields. He never learned her name. He never wanted to learn her name, whatever variation of 'I'm a spoiled brat who doesn't care how Ponyville was flipped on its head' it was. Why did he seek her out? All he really wanted to do was to go inside and relax for the rest of the day. A very tired Caramel looked around the ancient barn: the same musty, slightly decayed wood as it was before. He was grateful it was left alone amid all the changes. Ultimately, the Oranges allocated a few spaces to be set aside for...nothing, because they were “terminally unattractive.” It suited his mood if nothing else; he just wasn't up for attending the nighttime events, or any events for the next few days. Maybe not ever again; what was the point? His limbs still sluggish and weak, the failed athlete made his way to a broken hay bale and collapsed on top of it. The evening sun cast rays inside, giving the hay an ethereal red shine against his beige hide. All he could do was stare at the ceiling in a haze, occasionally rolling over to count the rings in the wooden walls...again. Every now and then, he fumbled with the strands of his disgusting hair, trying to force them back into his usual hairstyle. He stank even worse than before, but there wasn't anything he could do about that. He had absolutely no idea what to do now. None. The defeated pony jumped at the sound of Big Macintosh knocking at the door. It must have been him because the force of the knocking made the barn shake, obviously despite the knocker's intentions. He put on the best smile he could muster and teetered his way to the barn doors. He made himself open them. The monstrous, handsome, unpredictable, maddening, possibly evil farm pony looked...tired, oddly enough. He was in top form in the Cup, sweeping the games effortlessly, but now he had shadows under his eyes and something pink smeared on the right side of his face. When Caramel looked at it, Big Mac did the same and frowned. Perhaps he couldn't get it off: was it some super-thick cake frosting? Pinkie did like to experiment with that stuff...'always the best for a big party'. But all the same, he looked fantastic with the setting sun igniting golden highlights in that dirty blonde mane. Not a drop of sweat could be seen on him. Whatever the reason for him to come, it didn't matter: he was exactly who Caramel never wanted to see again. “Hey, Big Mac. Need something?” “Eeyup.” “Does it have to do with the hay bales? Because I'm pretty sure the--” “Nnope.” “Okaaay, then is it the water bucket you let me borrow?” “Nnope.” Caramel took a deep breath. He suddenly noticed a glint from the farm pony's neck: two red-ribboned, silver medals were reflecting sunlight right into his eyes. They were his medals from the two events he eked out results. “You want inside, don't you?” “Eeyup.” Caramel let Big Mac in, despite wanting to hide in the barn by himself for...until he was ready to leave. He had plenty of hay in here, the rain allowed good water, the roof was still intact; it was a good place. He made an act of sorting the broken hay bale into a manageable pile while his guest stood completely still in the middle. It was a little creepy, all things considered. He kept his focus on the hay, ignoring the sweat beading on his forehead. “You can just set those down and leave if you're busy. And I appreciate you bringing them by, of course. You must be busy with all the partying everypony's doing with ya,” he finished with a chuckle. “Nnope.” Interesting answer. Maybe they all finished early and started planning for tomorrow? Whatever the case, the athlete brought the medals but wasn't setting them down...was he...no, he couldn't be. He couldn't. Caramel's hide bristled. That was unforgivable, greedy, abusive...but he remembered what his dad always told him and just smiled. “...Or maybe you want to talk about how awesome you were. And you were awesome! The way you were in complete control of each event just blew me away, like the hurdling--” Clank, clank. “Are you okay?” Caramel froze. This was absolutely the worst time, and speaking for himself was not something Big Mac did unless it was absolutely necessary. Evading this question was out of the question, even if he tried. And for that, he actually hated Big Mac a little bit. But at the same time, he couldn't help but like him a little more. He wanted to stop pretending and throw himself at the champion's hooves. Or into an earthquake. One or the other. Smile, Caramel, just smile. “Uhh...yeah! I'm fine! Why do you ask?” Even if it was hopeless, he wasn't going to give it all away immediately. Why would he? “Caramel, don't lie t'me. Ah saw you.” As he heard the last sentence, the medal winner felt his rage release itself from his cage. It was taking a while to claw up to his brain, held back by his stretched lips struggling to keep him sane. Perhaps...perhaps smiling wasn't the answer here. Perhaps he had to beat the invulnerable by making himself vulnerable. “...Oh yeah? When exactly did you see me? At the hurdling finish line? Or at the hoof wrestling matches? Or maybe when you--” “You ran away while everypony was distracted.” “...” Oh. So you did see me. You weren't too busy egging on the crowds? “You were cryin'.” “...” So, what's your point? For all you know, I'm just a sore loser. “Ah've never seen you cry before. Ah...” The rage stopped and waited. “Ah need t'know whut happened. Then Ah'll leave well enough alone, if'n you want.” Goosebumps broke out over his hide as the interrogator sat down right in front of him. Leaving well enough alone was not in the plans, it seemed... “...What happened?” “Eey--Yes, Caramel. What happened t'you? You...you can tell me, right? We're friends; you can trust me." Caramel had to steady himself as he looked at his guest. Big Mac had never looked more pathetic to him in his life, eyes pleading with him for an answer. But some hours ago, the same pony was half-insane with pride and arrogance. Just what in the six hells happened to him after the Cup? And why did he bring up their friendship...if that was what it was? He remained standing as he answered. "I-I suppose we're friends, yeah. We don't really talk, but...I guess you don't really talk much to anypony, heh." Big Mac chuckled, but it sounded weak. Caramel was expecting a 'Nnope', not a heartbreaking chuckle and heavy breathing. And this was the most that his 'friend' had talked to him for both of their lives. He felt itchy. "Ah remember back when we were foals: you always tried t'do whut Ah did fer mah chores. You jus' couldn't manage it, but you smiled every time you failed an' jus' kept goin'. An' you refused t'let me help you. Stubborn as th' rest of us, Ah swear." As much as he hated to admit it, Caramel's smile was a real one at that moment. He didn't like to think about his childhood, but Macintosh was certainly worth remembering. And now he knew that the farm pony considered them friends back then, too. It was when he pulled away from most ponies, including him, that he didn't feel he deserved the title anymore. "C-Caramel?" ...Sniffle. ...What's happening? Is he...he's actually... "Don'...don' do that this time. Ah wanna help you, if'n Ah can. It's..." Macintosh inhaled sharply, grunting a little. Against his better judgment, Caramel sat opposite him. "It's too important t'ignore. Fer both of us. Ah mean, look at you; you haven't even bathed after th' Cup. Yer hurtin', an' it's clear t'see. Please..." Sniffle. "Please jus'..." Caramel hurriedly stood up and went back to "sort" the hay. He couldn't look at what was happening. Big Mac was always mighty and stoic and brave and huge...not raw. It wasn't him, not at all. Maybe Caramel passed out and started dreaming? But his dreams never had... “Oh, Ah cain't keep this up...” Sniffle, sniffle. Sob. “...M-Mac?” As much as he dreaded it, he sat back down with the inexplicably sobbing Big Macintosh. He could see the tears already flowing down his face. What happened to him to make him like this?! “C-Caramel...wuz it me? D-Did Ah do that t'you?!" It was hard for Caramel to say exactly what bewildered him then. He didn't suppose Big Macintosh would be heartless, but this was not what he imagined the emotional core of the pony to be. He pictured a few hopes and fears about the perils of farming, maybe anxiety about starting a family...but not this. Macintosh was not supposed to cry. His mouth seemed to know what to say, even though his mind and heart were torn to shreds. He most definitely was not smiling now. “...W-what?!” “J-Jus' tell me, please. Ah need t'know. It wuz th' shoe throwin', wuzn't it? A-ah screwed up, Ah know that; that contest did a number on me. Ah was out o' control. Ah w-wanted t'ruffle yer feathers a bit, but...Ah never meant t'reduce you t'tears. Ah swear on mah mama's grave that Ah never meant t'hurt you, Mel. I am so, so sorry...!” Caramel's rage was comically defeated. All the flashing images of the hypersmug Macintosh preening at him were fading in the whitewash of the same Macintosh's weepy apology. Now he was fighting what he tried to get past several times...but was beginning to feel would take him over again. But at the same time, a fearful revelation started to settle deep in his stomach. Just who was this pony? Why was he crying over what was, admittedly, just a simple error in judgment for him? And why was this pony trying to fix his mane...? Mere hours after the Cup, mere hours after he had to finally accept his lot...this couldn't have happened at a worse time. “W-well...it's just...” His voice caught in his throat as a large hoof brushed a strand of his hair behind his left ear. “Please. Ah'm not asking you t'forgive me. Just tell me so Ah can...so Ah can set things straight.” Honesty. He just had to be honest. He had done nothing wrong; he had to forget the smiling and be blunt. He wished he didn't smell so bad... “Yes. It was the shoe throwing." Macintosh bowed his head and shut his eyes. "You humiliated me. You made a mockery of my talent. You didn't mean it; I bet the crowd and everypony else didn't even notice. But you did. Even though you won fair and square.” Sob. “B-but you know what? I can...get past that. Really, I can. The reason I was crying was...is...” Macintosh brought his head back up, eyes swimming in those inexplicable tears. “Y-yes?” As the words came to him, all of his inhibition died. Too much pain was keeping him from being sympathetic. He had to let this strange pony know just what he did...for better or for worse. After all, who else could he tell? “Because I lost the one means I might have had to survive.”
SurvivalMacintosh genuinely could not believe what he had heard. It was ridiculous. "The only means I have to survive?" How could he have survived until now if he didn't have... Wait. One explanation did rear its ugly head. Oh, no. Oh, please no. His mind hurriedly collected the facts: 1) He hadn't been to Caramel's house in years. Well, 'been around' would be more accurate. 2) Caramel had a couple of belongings in the barn. 3) This barn had hay in it, very old hay at that. He had forgotten to replace it with all the mess of the year. 4) He saw the water bucket in the corner, half full with what must have been rainwater. 5) Caramel smelled awful, and he couldn't bathe here. Please tell me yer jokin'. Please tell me Ah'm jus' crazy. “Y-you mean...yer tellin' me--” "Eeyup," answered the dirty pony in a weak voice. "This is my house." You cain't be serious. "You cain't be serious! You cain't be! Yer...yer jus' bein' melodramatic, right? Right?" "Nnope." Big Macintosh felt itchy. Evening sunlight bathed the probably bitter hay...the hay on which Caramel was sleeping. This really was his home. "H-How...how th' hells did it git like this?! Don' you have a job or somethin'? Some support?" “I don't. But it's not anypony's fault but mine. Something's wrong with me: no matter what I..." Caramel stopped. All Macintosh could do was watch the beige pony's chest rise slowly with the inhale, fall deeply with the exhale; each second was stretched to its absolute limit. The floor beneath him seemed to shift with Caramel's breathing, even though he was rooted to it motionlessly. His eyes started burning again. "It's bad, Big Mac.” He stifled one final sob from his earlier trembling; it still hurt to think about what he had done, but this was seriously becoming strange. He felt like he was on a roller coaster. He hated rollercoasters. The one everypony made him try after the Cup was enough to turn his insides out...and Caramel might as well have been pulling the lever right then. He jostled his aching head. “U-um...whaddya mean?” “I mean..." Caramel got up off the floor. "Well, lemme show you.” He watched the beige pony walk over to one of the hay bales and put his hoof against it. “Now watch me try and push it.” Confused, Big Mac kept watching. The hoof applied pressure to the hay...and then slipped right through it. He forgot how to breathe. That hoof might as well have slipped right through him. That wasn't supposed to happen. Bale hay was packed specifically so things like that wouldn't happen, but his hoof slipped through the surface and inexplicably broke the tension holding it all together. The hay bale anticlimactically started to fall apart as if it were loose the whole time. “How did...you jus'...whut?” Caramel bowed his head, and Macintosh had to keep from bowing his own. Caramel wasn't supposed to be sad. It was one of the constants of his life: the sun rises and sets, the apples grow and fall, and Caramel's always happy. This wasn't right, it wasn't right at all. Breathe, Macintosh, breathe. “It's been like that since I can remember," Mel confessed. "I can do little things like write and walk and...eat, if there's no plate to break...but when I want to do something useful, something like that always happens. Like if I were to...you know what? I'm not going to demonstrate and risk ruining the support beam. I'm too tired, anyway.” “...Wait jus' a minute,” interrupted the listener. “Ah saw you work on th' farm, or try to anyway, an' you never destroyed a bale or anythin' like that!” Caramel brought his head back up and laughed bitterly. He wasn't supposed to be bitter, either... “I was a foal then, Big Mac! I was too weak to do that much damage...or something like that. Not anymore, though. Nnope...not anymore.” Then the hay destroyer just looked at him and sighed. “But yeah, this is what I am: a walking disaster. Whatever I touch, I ruin, unless it's gigantic. The only thing I can do well is shoe tricks. Just...just imagine somepony like that trying to get a job. And now you understand why I'm here...I make sure to eat light, so no worries there.” Macintosh was reeling from what he had just learned. This sort of thing shouldn't have been able to happen, not to Caramel, not to anypony. But even with the horror demonstrated, some way to live honestly had to be there, it just had to be. Yet...here they were. “Jus' how long have you lived like this?” Caramel looked to the floor of the barn. It seemed he was deliberately avoiding his guest's eyes, even though Big Mac was in truth the host. He was the host of something truly abominable. “...A little over a year.” He sat there in silence for some time. It was hard to know what to say or do; seeing the little pony like this was steadily wrenching him from the inside out, but he couldn't just sit there. He had to investigate. The big work pony decided to press further. “Nopony would take pity on you?”, Macintosh conjectured. The cursed pony grimaced. “I got by from staying at someponies' places overnight, up 'till this. That, or I just camped out. Usually, somepony would just let me come over and eat dinner with them, nice as can be...but I guess I was just too proud to tell them about me. Besides, that's the symptom and not the disease, as they say.” Caramel did look pretty thin. In fact, he looked like he had been sick lately. Perhaps he had been sick a lot, having lived in here for so long. Over a year - no, even more than that - of sickness and destitution, not asking for help...it was stupid. It was downright moronic. But more than anything else, it was heartbreaking to see... “Well...could yer talent--” “No." He had to recoil as Caramel blurted the harsh response. "I've looked. I've experimented. I've even tried to...well, it was far-fetch'd, no point in even mentioning it. There is absolutely no money in shoes, and I'm not talking mares' hoofwear.” Macintosh felt himself sink along with Caramel to the floor. "I wouldn't mind it normally, believe you me. Mine's not the only talent that's completely useless. But when this came into the picture, it just...well, you can imagine." Truthfully, he didn't know if he could. How could it possibly be this bad? No, it couldn't be. Caramel had to be mistaken. “Whut about yer family? Wouldn't they--” “I...don't want to talk about it.” Chills ran down the interrogator's spine as his subject changed tones dramatically: Caramel suddenly sounded meek and scared instead of just bitter. He didn't want to hear either tone, but there was no way he was leaving that alone. “Mel, Ah cain't accept that answer--” “I said I don't want to talk about it," his objective challenged, bitterness revived. "So...we're not gonna talk about it. Okay?” Macintosh got up to close in on the wounded pony, hoping to intimidate him. He had to step it up before he lost his nerve, before he lost him. “Nnope.” Caramel just stared back at him. “Tough.” “This is too serious t'sidestep, Mel," he insisted. "Ah need t'know if Ah'm gonna be able t'help you.” “Oh, sure, go ahead and try!”, Mel countered with exaggerated sourness. “Really! Five doctors couldn't figure it out, so wouldn't it be the funniest thing if a simple farm pony finally cracked the code! Now this I gotta see”, he finished as he laid on his back, hooves laid casually - irritatingly - behind his head. He felt itchy again. Calm down, Macintosh. He's upset. Be a peacemaker. Quelling his frustration, he inferred as much as he could in his head. Besides Caramel's house, he hadn't seen the pony's father in years either; it just wasn't important to him to check. After all, he figured everything was fine until now. Did he just sell their house and leave him here? As much as he hated to keep asking, he needed more information. Dagnabbit. This ain't like you at all...Why're you makin' this so difficult? “Okay, forget it fer now,” the simple farm pony offered. “Whut about...whut about them 'surreal' jobs? You certainly seem smart enough fer one o' 'em.” The jobless pony seemed to calm down a bit, and therefore so did Big Macintosh. He only had to keep things businesslike, eeyup. He could do this. “Tried that, too.” “...An'?” “...And look where I am now!", Caramel retaliated with a glare. "What do you think happened?! And it's called 'cerebral', by the way, not that it matters.” “But how in Equestria did...?!” “It was always something stupid. I would touch a desk or a stack of forms wrong and completely ruin them. Even I can admit that's not employee material for the up and up...” Just for a second, the failed employee seemed like he was about to break down, but then he wiped all expression from his face. Macintosh tried desperately to do the same, racking his brain for a solution. He looked at the sunlight streaming on the broken hay...then beamed as the answer sat right in front of him. “Hold on! You wrecked that bale purdy good. Whut if you did demolition work?” “Hah! Nice try,” Caramel spat back. “That was the last job I went for. I wasn't turned away because I was inappropriate...but because I was inadequate! Imagine it! If you had the choice between quality explosives and wrecking tools versus some cursed pony who could just...ruin some hay or whatever, which would you pick? Oh, that really summed it up for me; too much for one kind of job, not enough for another. "And it goes without saying I couldn't work the tools myself; believe me, the one time I tried it was...I'm just glad nopony was hurt. They kept my secret just to get rid of me; I can't blame them." Now Macintosh started to tremble again. But this time it was from that tiny flicker of anger that was hampered in his mind, which suddenly burst to life. Nopony could be this stupid... "Well, then you shoulda gone fer a smaller demo job." The clueless pony looked completely incredulous...but then he chuckled. It wasn't a forced chuckle, just a normal one. What was so damn funny? "'A smaller demo job'. Cute. You think of that yourself? Do you seriously think that kind of job exists?" ...Oh, now Ah see how it is. Big Mac took a deep breath to calm down: he had to just run through the possibilities until he found the ticket. "You could make that job. Experimentin', like you said before." "Oh, please tell me you don't think I haven't thought of that," pleaded Caramel sarcastically. "It's a nice sounding idea until you realize...I would still be selling my defect. Who in Equestria or beyond would be comfortable taking work like that? "And before you even say it," Caramel preempted just as Big Mac prepared to rebut, "pity will only go so far. Pity...is a novelty that will wear off, and I've seen that happen just in interviews for jobs. Add that with the lack of demand for something like that, and there goes that idea. Sorry." Big Mac took another deep breath. "You say that, but did you try it?" Now Caramel just looked exasperated. As frustrated as he was, he had to admit it was a cute face. "WAY too risky, Macintosh. If it failed, I'd have nothing to show for it except everypony knowing about what I am." "Eeyup," insisted Macintosh through gnashing teeth, "an' then they could HELP you." "Pfft," spat Caramel. "Avoid me, more like. They'd get paranoid that I could melt their flesh or something stupid like that. 'Oh, stay away! It's the Disintegrator, Aaaah!'" Big Mac did not laugh. "...I'm telling you," continued Caramel, "you can't sell my destruction, just like you can't sell tricks with shoes." That...! Even if that's true, that doesn't mean you should give up...that's DEFINITELY not like you. "...Use yer shoes t'do other jobs. Like...whut do you call those things trains ride on?" "Railways?" "Eeyup, them. Ah...Ah don' see why you couldn't...hammer nails into th' metal with a shoe or somethin'." Even he knew he was losing momentum, but he had to keep going. "I actually did try that...and dear Celestia, what happened was awful. If I hammered even slightly different than the other workers, part of the railway would explode. They wouldn't even let me try to fix anything; they just fired me and told me to never come back." "...That's weird," commented Macintosh. Caramel nodded wryly. "But anyway, you could...do somethin' that didn't involve labor. Like counseling." "You need a degree for that, AND I'm not exactly the consoling type. I can't just smile other ponies' problems away." For a second, Big Mac could have sworn he saw Caramel mouth to himself: "Believe me, I've tried." "...Music." "That does involve labor with instruments, and I ruined said instruments. They were expensive to replace, too; Dad was not happy that day." "Singin'." "Do I sound like a singer to you?" "Mascot." That at least made the stubborn pony pause. He stepped away from him to help him think. "I can't feed myself on wages that low. And even if I could, can you picture me - just me - as a mascot? Costumes are out of the question, because...you know. They'd just find somepony more suitable for the job...assuming they even wanted one." "...Fortune telling!", grunted Macintosh. "A fortune teller shredding cards doesn't inspire too many ponies, Mac," said Caramel with an aggravating smile. "ROLL CALL! All you gotta do is stand in one place an' count. Don' tell me that's outta th' question, too!" "I don't know if you've noticed, but that's not a paying gig. But keep trying; this is fun!" Breathe, Macintosh, breathe. Don' git carried away, jus' stick with yer brains. "Announcements." "Electronic equipment." "Use a Unicorn fer that voice enhancement thingy!" "Oh, but this pony right here doesn't need that! 'NEXT'." "Foal sittin'." "It's juuuuuuuust a little awkward when you have to explain to a foal--" "Consultin'!" "You-You don't just get a job like that. Too much in the way." "Don' gimme that--MAKE IT WORK!" "I TRIED! It was all I could do at that point; trying to cut red tape for pointless jobs. It just...it just doesn't work when you have a track record like mine." Big Macintosh was beyond trying to control himself. He would not accept the 'hopelessness' of the situation, no matter how difficult it was. "You...JEWEL APPRAISAL!" "You think a jeweler would risk making flaws in--" "ANIMAL SITTING!" "Now you're just desperate--" "STAND! UP! COMEDY!" "I'M! NOT! FUNNY!" Big Macintosh flopped to the barn floor in defeat, groaning loud enough to make the weakened structure shake a little. Wait, no, he couldn't give in here! He made himself stand up just as he registered Caramel mumbling something along the lines of: "At least that's what the club owners said..." “Ah...Ah refuse t'believe anypony could be forced t'live off mah farm like...like this! You cain't jus' git discouraged an' give up like this, babe! There hasta be somethin' you can do fer bits, there jus' hasta be!” Caramel kept his face neutral, looking to the roof of the barn. Big Macintosh ran through every money-for-work situation he could imagine...but all he could really think of was the dirty pony in front of him, disillusioned and silently broken. No matter how stupid the pony was being, he didn't deserve this. “Well, if there is, I'd love to hear it. I'm stumped myself.” It hurt to hear that. It hurt so bad. It had to stop; this whole ordeal had to stop. ...Whut did Ah say back there? Oh no...Ah-Ah gotta ignore it an' press on, it's too important. “C-Caramel...Ah'll help you, we'll find somethin'. Maybe we'll find a cure or SOMETHIN' t'end this. This...this is unacceptable.” The homeless pony's mask was finally starting to break. And so was he. “I know. I...I know it is. Do you think I would w-wish anypony away that could help me?! But nopony can! None of 'em! Not my teachers, not my father, not my doctors, not the entertainment industry, AND CERTAINLY NOT SOME FLAWLESS DOLT LIKE YOU!” Macintosh lost his grip again as he saw hot tears running down Caramel's dirty cheeks. He couldn't stand it, he couldn't stand it at all. He just sat himself down and caught the grieving pony in his hooves and held him tightly, shutting his eyes from the sight. He felt hooves grab his neck and pull him down. He shivered as a muzzle buried itself in his shoulder, craning his neck to do the same. Each sob brought him closer to tears of his own. It was exactly what he wanted to do, and it was exactly what he was afraid would happen. Macintosh cradled him as best he could, struggling to stay strong. But after a couple of minutes went by, he felt it all too powerfully. Caramel was so vulnerable, so broken instead of his usual sweet and mild self he had come to admire. And he was right there, comforting the pony with his entire body. It was too much. It was too sudden. He just couldn't keep it up; it made him so weak. Lifting his muzzle, the flawless dolt shook as he nuzzled Caramel's neck and gingerly licked his cheek.
SuspendedCaramel stopped. Time and existence stopped. All his rage, all his grief, all his self-loathing froze at the hot, wet touch of Macintosh's tongue. His cheek burned with nonsense, dripped with insanity. Big Macintosh...had just licked him. That sentence defied logic as he had come to know it. “B-Big Mac?” The strange red pony had also stopped. He had to remind himself to breathe. “Y-yeah?” “You just...but you wouldn't have...you couldn't have...?” His comforter, beyond all reason, bowed his head forward and rested against Caramel's neck. He heard him moan and was frightened at the sound. He felt hooves pull him in tighter, refusing to yield. “Ah'm sorry,” began the strange red pony, “really Ah am. But Ah cain't help it anymore. It's just...Caramel...” He didn't want to hear what came next. He wanted to die right then and there, if it meant he could forget the entire day. But he was still feeling the champion breathe in and out unsteadily...He was still feeling so many dreams come back to him all at once. “Y-yeah?”, he squeaked. “Ah...Ah'll make it up t'you. Ah swear. We'll find you somethin' you can do t'make a livin'; Ah'll look until mah eyes fall out. Jus' please don't give up. It's yer best quality...” The universe was further insulted when Macintosh pulled his head back up and planted lips to his. Caramel was lost for what to think as he was held there, feeling the pressure that was denied to him for so long. It couldn't have been real; there was no way. Dreams must have become wet and sticky when he wasn't looking. “Ah'm not giving up on you...and Ah'll be damned t'all six hells if Ah'm gonna let you do it either. You never gave up before. That's...that's why Ah fell in love with you, Mel...” As the strange red pony relaxed his crushing hug, Caramel tried to compute what he had just heard. Big Macintosh loved him? He just said that? And he wasn't dreaming? So all the training to 'win' at the Cup and maybe the occasional date, trying to find a mare to help him forget...that was all completely pointless?! He could have just told the truth and everything...well, one thing would have been fine?! The scandalized pony felt his bizarre lover nuzzle him again. It was hard to be mad when he was being so affectionate, like scolding a shower for being too wet. He loves me...he fell in love with me. And he told me. Dear skies above, so much has changed. “Even as bad as it got fer you workin', you never complained, never quit in th' middle. You just smiled an' tried again. Ah kept thinkin', “Why does he keep doing it when it never works?” an' then...Ah thought o' mahself.” Caramel didn't know what else to do but keep listening. It was starting to get colder outside, not that he felt remotely chilly. Big Macintosh was very warm...and he was beginning to crave that warmth again. "...It's like you said: Ah'm a flawless dolt. Ah never had t'worry 'bout not bein' able t'work. Ah wondered what it might've been like if Ah wuz helpless, and it scared th' hells outta me. Cuz, Ah mean, there's not much else to me than workin' an' helpin' everypony, or at least nothin' else Ah care t'know.” Suddenly, the strange red pony wasn't so strange anymore. He was different, but it was like... they understood each other in a way. They had the same fear. Caramel almost made an effort to nuzzle him back, but decided against it until he was done talking. “An' then Ah jus' looked at you. No matter how frustrated you got with yer strugglin', no matter how helpless you really were, you never showed it. You were stubbornly happy with a pretty smile," he continued with a reverent tone. Caramel thought about his smile. He never considered what other ponies thought about it, not really. After all, he smiled to make himself feel better and to look like he never felt bad; so he didn't truthfully have others in mind. But it was clear now that he should have paid attention. “Ah wanted that strength. Ah wanted t'be able t'keep tryin' even if my blessin's dried up. Ah...Ah respect you as much as any family Ah've ever had.” Caramel's chest fluttered as he saw his admirer tear up again. He never thought he would hear those words, any of them. He didn't think his old crush would feel the same way; never dared to ask it, barely dared to think it. Why would a stud like Big Mac look at a pony like him, whether he was gay or not? But here the stud was, embracing him and bearing his soul. Caramel inhaled more steadily, feeling a real smile stretch his lips. He offered a hoof to wipe Big Mac's tears. His comforter sniffed, clearing his throat. The smelly pony really wished he smelled better, even just a little. “Yer th' sweetest, too. Always were. Ah...Ah swear Ah didn't know it wuz this bad. Ah jus' thought you were a klutz...!” Tremors shook both of them as Macintosh started to tremble again. Caramel rubbed the big lug's back; he just wasn't supposed to be sad, not him. It was one of the constants in his life...in fact, it was the only constant he had. He had to return the favor, soothe the soother. “Mac...it's okay. I don't blame anypony for this, really. It just...it just stinks, that's all. It really, really stinks...” This didn't seem to help. “I-If only we knew, we all woulda helped you. Why...why didn't you say anything?! Ah woulda bent over backwards to...!” He instantly regretted letting Big Macintosh in the barn. All his outpouring emotion wasn't worth this amazing stallion fretting over him. The champion should have been celebrating, not suddenly bearing his burden. It just wasn't right. “It's...it's not that bad, really...” “Not that bad?!", a tearful Macintosh rebutted. "Yer homeless! Yer jobless! Yer daddy prolly abandoned you! Yer stuck livin' in our old barn that got stolen from us! Yer...yer cryin' again, Ah'm sorry. Oh, Mel...” Caramel finished recoiling from the reminders. If anything, it felt good to hear somepony else say them. “No, it's...it's all true. Don't feel bad. A-after all, it's not like feeling bad will change anything, right?”, he offered meekly. He never imagined that between the two of them, Big Macintosh would have been the emotional one. The pony wasn't what he believed him to be at all...but it was clear that this was the real deal. He would accept it no matter how this situation ended; he was not going to let go of what was just given to him unconditionally. Mac seemed to be calming down, the pony's heartbeat slowing to normal. Mel wiped Mac's eyes again. “Ah...well, that's true," the champion conceded with a hint of a smile. Mel chuckled through what sounded like a throat. “Heh...Ah've never talked this much in mah life. It's kinda exhausting. It all jus' came gushin' out, haha!” Mel felt the babbling farm pony's deep laughter reverberate against him as he was nuzzled again. Caramel giggled stupidly at the sensation, nuzzling him back this time. Why did he wait until now to do it? He was so flighty sometimes...so he decided to make it undeniable. He licked the left side of Macintosh's thickly muscled neck. Mac suddenly stopped nuzzling him. The two met eyes and stared at each other, both short of breath. They heard the water in the bucket splash softly as a single drop fell inside. “...Mel?” “Mac?” “You weren't...jus' humoring me, were you?” His crush's eyes were wide and lips were quivering. But Mel grinned that grin he saw before. “Nnope!” It seemed like Mac was the one who's existence locked up this time. Just for a few seconds, it was as if he had died and left a mindless shell behind. But then time started moving again...and accelerated as Mel only had a split second to register Mac pulling him into an overeager tongue bath. It was rushed, it was inexperienced, the stallion almost made him choke a few times...but he closed his eyes and relished every caress his partner made as it flooded him with a joy he didn't want to believe existed. Even as his mind still fought against the concept of the one pony he yearned for actually kissing him and returning his feelings, their frenzied dance became calmer...and he lost all focus but that toward the magnificent creature bound to him by flesh. He was gone. He was in love again. The kiss slowed further and grew deeper over time, the two hopelessly entangled in each other...everything else forgotten but the warmth of their bodies, the adoration of their tongues. They both fell to their sides as they explored each other greedily. In those few minutes, everything had changed. In those few minutes, Paradise was reborn. Ten minutes later, Macintosh broke their kiss and frantically got up from laying on his side. Caramel had to squirm to avoid getting stepped on. “Whoa whoa, what happened? Somepony lay down some kibble for ya, Spot?” Without missing a beat, Spot replied: “Ah gotta go, Ah'm late for supper and...oh, crud, Ah'm sorry, Ah'm a moron. Ah'll bring somethin' back here. Th' point is, Ah need t'go home. But this,” he added with a peck, “wuz wonderful. Ah'll talk t'you t'morrow 'bout getting' you out o' this barn. In th' meantime...” Caramel tried to cut in, but was silenced by a longer, more tender kiss. His partner was getting better at that already. “Yer welcome t'stay," the Apple offered breathlessly. "Be back in two bits.” Caramel finally caught his breath when he said: “Wh-whoa, wait!” Mac stopped just before the doors and turned his head, eyes as wild as his dirty blonde hair. “Whut?!” The barn dweller cantered up to his stud. He smiled with deliberate charm and half-lidded eyes. “Y'know...when you bring the meal back here – and you're just too nice to do so, thank you so much – you could...stay the night if you like. Or I could...oh, forget it, I'm being ridiculous.” The other barn dweller scratched his chin, eyes darting from Mel to the great outdoors. Then his eyes lit up, as if sparkling with his mind's solution. “Ah have a much better idea,” Macintosh teased as he played with Mel's mane. “Would you like t'have supper with us tonight? Ah cain't git ya a room too easily, but we can surely try.” Caramel felt his knees give out. He hadn't had a meal with flavor since...he didn't even want to think about it. And sleeping in an actual bed...with a blanket and pillows and windows and everything. And maybe he could finally have a bath that wasn't in a river! He never thought he would get something that wonderful after what happened earlier that day. The saved pony looked at Macintosh, who was smiling a little smugly. He looked so different to him now. He looked like a perfect gentlecolt when he was a colt himself; then the pinnacle of masculinity when they were both grown; then an infuriatingly charming blowhard at the stadium; and now as if he were a gift from the heavens, meant to redeem him from his cursed life. Caramel nodded his head emphatically. Then he felt fear grip his heart as he remembered. “W-wait, that would mean...!” Mac kept his face stern, but warm. Just looking at that face made Mel wonder why he convinced himself that trying to snagging the stud was pointless. He had no reason to be afraid...certainly not now. Well, at least not of that. “They would find out eventually. Ah'm sure they'll take pity on you once we explain it t'them. They're good ponies an' you know it.” But Caramel wasn't swayed. He was already trying to imagining what might happen if they were unprepared: every outcome seemed bleak. “I know your family would forgive me, but what about--” “CRUD.” “Exactly!” Mac looked as worried as Caramel felt. Both of them fixated on the other side of the acreage. “Well...”, he stalled as he paced before the doors. “They don' need much work on “their” land, they don' know you at all...and you'd be staying with us anyway...” “Yeah, yeah?!” “...So we'll jus' tell those three Ah hired you t'work on th' outer fields and leave it at that. They shouldn't care.” Caramel brushed against Macintosh's left side. He was sure the stud thought it was mischievous, and maybe it was a little...but he craved the tangible security Mac's hide brushed onto him. That, and it was getting colder outside, like it did every night for so many nights by himself. Burying himself in hay during the winter, part of it even covered in snow...he was sure as every hell leaving that behind now if he could. “Are you sure?” “Well...no. But either way, we hafta move it!” Mac tore away from Mel and bolted away from the barn. "H-HEY, WATCH IT! I CAN'T REALLY RUN, YOU KNOW! JERK!" The two stallions galloped hectically (one haphazardly) toward the Apple-Orange Homestead. In spite of all the uncertainty, Caramel was looking forward to some good food and a place to sleep. Maybe...maybe things were about to get better.
Day 1The morning sun's rays were blocked by the storm clouds lingering from the middle of the night. The weather team must have been behind. Nevertheless, Caramel roused himself to see where he was, sleepily jostling his head to clear his thoughts. He was in a bed...a very nice one, at that. What had happened last night? Was he so tired that he passed out in front of a hotel in a deranged stupor? He saw blue walls, a green ceiling, a misted window...whatever had happened, he certainly was not in the old barn anymore. He groaned at the thought of making an excuse for the poor hotel owners. “Mnngh.” “GAH!” THUD. “*snort* WHU-WHUT?! WHUT'S GOIN' ON?!” The no-longer-groggy pony pulled himself off the floor and made himself take a deep breath. It was just Big Macintosh. Wait... Oh. OH! Caramel felt himself blushing as he recalled the events of the previous day. The same pony who got him a room indefinitely was staring at him with wide eyes and without a blanket. Sheepishly, he untangled himself from it and threw it back onto the bed. He was mostly just glad he had showered before wrapping himself in it, as well as before formally meeting the Oranges. He remembered nodding and smiling at the "appropriate occasions" at the lavish dinner (fruit salad and crepes; it was like he had died), trying not to look left or right. Other than that, he just ate and went up to bed. Nothing happened. Macintosh came up to the room later and slipped into bed next to him. Nothing happened; they were both extremely tired, and for more than one reason. Apparently, Big Mac wore his yoke to bed. Maybe it cushioned his neck...? It certainly made him look more muscular...ahem. “U-Um...good morning, Mac. Sorry I startled ya.” Mac blinked a couple of times, then rubbed his head. “Mornin'. You okay?” His blush deepened. What a way to wake up the boyfriend. “Yeah. I just...forgot where I was for a second.” His bedmate gave a confused chuckle, then glanced around through heavy-lidded eyes. “Just whut time 'zit anyway?” Mel looked around Mac's room, finally settling on the partially shadowed clock. It was shaped like a navel orange, which to its credit matched with the blue walls nicely. It was difficult to read, though. “Eight fifteen...? No, Eight twenty, sorry.” “That late?!”, Mac shouted before scrambling to get off the bed. “Ah've got work t'do! Th' fields are still idle with everythin' that happened--” “Whoa whoa, slow down!”, Mel cut him off. “Isn't today the Pegasus Race? Your family's probably gone to cheer Fluttershy on—you have a beard!” Big Macintosh turned around and actually tilted his head. He looked like Winona...except for the red part...and he was much bigger...plus his white facial hair wasn't dog-like...so really, he didn't look like her at all. Caramel giggled. “...Eeyup...'zat a surprise? Colts grow facial hair. Don' you?” Mel went to rubbing his muzzle, the sarcasm not lost on him. It felt as smooth as the day he was born. “Nah. Never had to shave once. I just have a naturally smooth face, and I thought you did, too.” “Nnope...Ah'm gonna shave real quick.” The scruffy pony meandered to the adjoining bathroom. “Oh, don't do it because of me! I kinda like it with--” “Ah'm not”, he called out before shutting the door, “...but Ah'll remember that.” It was then that it hit him in full force. He was living with Big Macintosh, albeit temporarily. He was in a relationship with Big Macintosh. He was seeing him from all angles. It was really happening. Wow... While his new boyfriend did his morning ritual, Caramel took the time to examine the room further (the night before, he just went straight for the bed and didn't look back.) Not taking charm into account, it was unremarkable except for a raggedy old doll on the single drawer there. It looked far too old to still be there, but he supposed Macintosh was the type to hold onto old things. Always better to keep using what worked, right? It almost looked strangely familiar... Meh, it wasn't important. Mac came out after a few minutes, fresh and smooth and...gracious. Mel swallowed for control's sake. Come on, don't rush it. Just...just make smalltalk. “It's lucky today's the Race so you can relax a little. They'll be there all morning.” “Eeyup.” Eeyup? You were talking my ear off in the barn! Work with me! “...I guess it's also nice not to wake up with the sun in your eyes. That always annoyed me.” Mac shrugged...this was just getting awkward now. Mel decided to walk up next to him, nuzzling above the yoke and getting a sleepy smile in return. He edged himself forward and pulled Mac down for a kiss. Seeing a compromise with himself, Mel turned it into an intimate mouth-to-mouth exploration, sliding to the floor with a deep-throated moan. Evidently Mac had learned much from last night, not making Mel gag even once. It was just...a nice way to start their morning. Well, apart from the screaming. Five minutes later, they parted and stood up together. “Um...I guess we better get to the Forest.” The diligent farm pony hesitated. “Um...Ah dunno. Ah wuzn't kiddin' 'bout th' fields. They really do need t'get ploughed, the rest of them, that is. Ah know t'ain't polite, but we need that food.” “Oh...alright, then”, the handicapped pony accepted. “So...” “Hm?”, Mac prompted while looking to the fields in question through the window. “If you're going that route...I guess figurin' out how to get me a job skill will have to wait?” Mac turned around and looked to the ceiling for thought's sake. Either that, or he was frustrated? “We can do both.” A shock of elation revived Mel's body as he drank in the sight of his lover. Strong, masculine, thoughtful, reasonable, dedicated...he closed the distance between them and gave him a peck. “I love you.” Macintosh gave a longer kiss in return. It meant something different when it was offered to him...it was just sweeter. “Ah...Ah've dreamed about you saying that t'me, you know.” The dream pony melted at the thought, nuzzling his stud. Some of his own dreams were of snagging Big Macintosh (wearing a suit, for some reason) with a gigantic shoe, catching him in midair and laying a big, fat one on him. The other dreams he had were...well, they weren't that nice. Even though he wasn't wearing a suit, Mac nibbled on his left ear before he whispered: “I love you, too.” The stallion's voice shook him to the core. Even as much as he knew that, just hearing the words made him so thoroughly happy. Not to mention something about his left ear was very sensitive, especially when somepony whispered into it. The last time somepony whispered in that ear was...that one time. He quickly killed that line of thought and just focused on the thrill running through him. He managed to contain himself as they went to eat. Both of them were lacking for conversation, funnily enough. As they finished breakfast, Mel was feeling a little playful. “So didja dream about me declaring my love just earlier?”, he teased. Mac suddenly looked embarrassed, but then he just grinned. “Among other things...” Okay, he wasn't expecting that. Caramel parsed the phrase as many ways as he could as they walked out of the room and out of the house...and then it hit him. “Oh, that's gross, hon,” he chided. Big Mac waggled his eyebrows. Caramel was starting to believe the stadium personality and the farm personality were much closer than he thought. “If'n you don' like that stuff, then yer not ready fer a relationship, sugarbear.” “Touchè. And never call me that again.” “Ah can do that, if'n you never call me 'hon' again.” “What, really?” “...It jus' bothers me. Ah cain't say why.” “Huh. Whatever...what if I called you 'Mac Daddy'?” “Now yer just bein' absurd. Ah'm not ready fer kids.” They had made it to the idle field much quicker than Caramel thought it would have taken. He didn't realize just how close this field was to the old barn...he really saw it for how ratty it was now. The holes in the roof weren't visible, but they painted even more of a bitter picture for him. The field itself stood before all the "useless" sections the Oranges didn't look at more than once, as he understood the situation. Maybe they wanted the orange trees where everypony could see them, something silly like that. The soil was freshly wet with the occasional earthworm wriggling holes into it. Just as Macintosh said, it needed to be ploughed and seeded. The real question was just in what way were they going to test his curse. A rusted plough sat just on the edge of the first section. Maybe he would finally be able to pull one when this was done. The sky was cleared, and the sun was shining merrily as per usual. “Ah'll get some bales out here. Just sit tight.” “Bales? You sure about that?” “Ah wanna git a better look.” Caramel complied, not that he could have done anything else. He found himself actually sitting just before the field, listening to the odd songbird. They certainly didn't have to worry about making bits...or not ruining whatever they perched on. They just had to sing to their potential mates, without fear or doubt pestering them. His mane was ruffled by the damp wind. It was amazing how lonely he could feel even when he would have company in just a moment. BAM! BAM! BAM! Before he had time to react, Caramel was surrounded on both sides by two large square bales and had a third one right above him. Mac must have thought it was funny to throw them like that. Who knew what was going on in that strange pony's head? Big Macintosh came galloping over, or at least that's what Mel inferred from his hearing. “Sorry! Ah didn't mean t'box you in, heh heh!” “You did that on purpose.” “Maybe.” “Why?” “Cuz yer cute when yer flustered.” “...Well, I'm more exasperated than 'flustered'.” “Yer also cute when yer 'zasperated.” “...Really? That's a new one.” “Eeyup; yer just generally cute. Now lemme get these off you.” “Oh, don't bother, I can just--” “Nnope,” Macintosh interrupted. “Ah need t'see it...Jus' wait.” Inexplicably, Caramel felt his anxiety spike as the bales were hefted away from him. He had the strangest fear they were going to discover something horrible. “Okay,” his lover continued, “now do whut you did before to th' one on yer left.” But as he walked up to the bale in question, he felt the need to say: “You know...you've been talking a lot more, lately.” Mac shrugged. After a hard swallow, Caramel tentatively brought his left hoof to the dense grain. He held it there for a while, afraid to press any further. It didn't matter though, as even his inert hoof seemed to be making the bale break apart into loose hay, albeit more slowly. In just seven seconds, it was completely broken. “Heavens t'Betsy...Ah thought you said you could write an' junk.” Mel shrugged. “I guess my hoof just doesn't like hay.” He turned around to see Big Macintosh completely stunned. The champion's face was pale, or as pale as a red face could get, while his own face was surely growing a deep blush. He had forgotten how unsettling the phenomenon was after all this time. “As for the writing bit...only about half the time. I can never tell.” They remained silent for a length of time neither was willing to measure. He had to ease the tension. This was exactly the reason he didn't want to tell anypony about himself...or at least he was pretty sure that was the reason. His mind tended to fold in on itself when he thought about it. “Well..you could break a bale pretty easily, too!” Mac was not amused. “Well, yeah, if'n Ah bucked it! Not by resting mah hoof on it! That's just...that's...oh, Caramel...” The pony of ruin felt a familiar depression on the edge of his heart. He took a long, slow breath to stave it off, opting to look at his stallion sympathizing with him. He had a boyfriend...and what a boyfriend. He must have been doing something right. And if he was doing that something right...who was to say they couldn't overcome this? For the first time in far too long...he actually felt the barest hint of hope. Life was going to get better, even if it took him forever. Two minutes later, his boyfriend cleared his throat. “Well...'zit the same fer every hoof?” Macintosh got to ploughing as his colt demonstrated each hoof's destructive property on the hay. After he quickly and continually rebuilt them into round bales, he would look back occasionally to see body slams, tail whips, headbutts, snorts, exhalations, every technique feasible for tearing the rebuilt hay down every time. It was clear this condition afflicted Caramel's entire body. It was also clear if he hadn't come to his aid sooner, Mel might not have been there to become his boyfriend. Eventually, he stopped looking and just kept his eyes on the ploughing. Not that it made a difference; just hearing it made him cringe. The plough gave him more and more resistance as he carried on. Eventually, he had had enough. “Caramel?” The destroyer looked up from the new hay pile, created from laying on top of it, dear skies above. “Yeah?” “Ah...Ah think that's enough fer today. It's clear whut we're dealing with here.” “Oh, come on,” Caramel complained. “I think I was on to something with the stomach.” Mac suspected something decidedly strange. It scared him just to think about it and angered him from the implication. “You weren't...enjoyin' ruinin' th' hay, were you?” Mel smiled and returned with: “Am I not allowed to?” That's our food...or it woulda been if'n it weren't so old! An' yer supposed t'be findin' a clue! "How can you--" “Well, you try doing that for half an hour. You'd want to make something out of it, too. Heh heh. My favorite one was just barreling straight into it. It was everywhere and your face was--” ROOOOOOOOOAR! “What in Celestia's name was that?!” Mac hastily scanned the area to locate the roar. As best he could tell, it had come from the Everfree Forest. He pointed in that direction. “The forest? That would mean...” “Fluttershy won?” “...I dunno; they sounded pretty angry. Maybe she lost...?” “Hmm...” “Well, we'll go over later and congratulate her. Or offer our condolences.” “...Eeyup.” With that, Mac finished up ploughing the field, as much as the plough seemed to forbid it. It was time for seeding. He started heading for the stockpile when he heard: “Hey, wait.” He turned around, feeling an inexplicable anxiety down in his stomach. “Hmm?” “Are...are you sure your family's okay with us? With me?” Oh, 'zat all? Sheesh. Yer cute when yer paranoid, too. “Eeyup.” He smiled at the affirmation. “Good...then what about the townsponies? They can be--” “We'll be careful. It'll be fine,” he reassured, smiling even wider. He turned back toward the seed storage. They really would be fine...yeah. They just had to be careful. This was going to work. Eeyup. Big Macintosh searched for the hayseeds within the stockpile, letting his mind wander. It was readily understood that Mel would just sit by the field and watch, to avoid any incident. In retrospect, the constant spilling and dislocation of seeds during Winter Wrap Up made sense to him now. A normal klutz would have just dropped them in one place, but those seeds completely vanished. Perhaps they shriveled up and blew away...? Maybe that's why he didn't attend the one this year; he was just too much of a liability. It depressed Mac so much not to see Caramel there that he couldn't finish the field work. It stung, too, because everypony else was working so hard on the other tasks, yet the fields ended up neglected. At least the mystery was solved now. With the seeds in tow, Mac started heading out of the stockpile when it was buffeted by a massive surge of wind. He cringed as the wood creaked and bent under the pressure...but what made him jump was when the stockpile as a whole was pushed to the left. It took a great deal of effort to make sure his seeds didn't ironically fly out onto the ground. A little shaken and wild eyed, the seed sower walked out of the buffeted shack to see that his seated audience was much more wild eyed than he, pupils fully dilated and staring at the sky. For some unfathomable reason, three butterflies were resting in his hair. There weren't any butterflies in this area, so their presence made the former wide eyed out of sheer confusion. “It...it was...”, Caramel gasped, “it was like nothing I've ever seen before. I...I can't even describe it.” “...Mml?” He set the seeds down for the moment. “T-there were so many colors...it was like my eyes went on vacation.” “Mel, what the hells happened?!” The pony plus butterflies blinked, then returned to normalcy...or at least he hoped that was the case. “I honestly don't know. It went by too quickly. All I can say is that it was big, and colorful, and weird.” Two of the butterflies fluttered away, while the remainder pulled Caramel's mane back to how it looked before the...thing. It then fluttered off to its waiting fellows. “So...Ah'll go plant these seeds,” said Macintosh as he picked them back up. “You do that," said Caramel. Halfway through planting the seeds, Caramel seemed completely back to normal. Mac saw him pacing up and down the perimeter of the field, being careful not to get too close. His chest tightened at the fact the pony had to do that at all...that sort of affliction should not have existed. He found himself marveling at how Mel managed to scrape by without asking for help for so long. It was a worthy question among many others he had. Mac seized the opportunity, taking the lanyard out of his mouth and putting it around his neck. Inconvenient though it was, he could still seed the fields that way, and this was too good of an opportunity. “So...you really lived in that old barn fer a year?” Caramel kept pacing...that was a weird drift he had. Huh. Well, he fixed it quick enough. Maybe that was why running was difficult for the pretty pony. “Sure did. It wasn't that bad, really. Nopony bothered me, food was plentiful, the rainwater was...well, it was there. I made do.” Mac felt his throat tighten at the way Mel said he "made do." Just thinking about all that time he spent alone made him testy. The little pony needed to start being honest today. “Mmhmm. So you lived there durin' Winter Wrap-Up an' everythin'?” He felt his seed box tremble, but got a hold of it. “Nngh...yeah, yeah, I did. I lived there for the last one, too. I would've told you, but I was just too distracted, and...yeah, distracted.” Macintosh squinted at his little stallion. He wanted to press for details...but ultimately decided to drop it. All he needed to know it there was no good reason for it. “Uh-huh. An' you exhausted every job avenue there is?” “O-ho yeah,” Caramel answered in a bittersweet tone. “We got desperate for a while; we even tried to sell me as a paperweight. Can you imagine? A paperweight, Mac. And you know what? I ruined the ink after I had to get up. Worst idea we ever had, hooves down.” Mac felt his shoulders tense up slightly. “So I like how you want to just research my...whatsit. Job searching won't really get us anything.” “We?” Mel seemed to falter. “Well, heh, you're just as invested in this as I am. I figure it's your job, too, once we get it.” “Nnope,” Macintosh corrected. “You said 'we' before you referred to 'me'. Who's th' third?” He couldn't see it from there, but he guessed Caramel's lip was trembling. The little stallion wasn't going to dodge this forever; Mac would make him talk about it. “...My dad.” Now Big Macintosh was considerably tense. He felt his blood pumping through his veins. “How is yer daddy these days?”, he asked as 'politely' as he could muster. “...I wouldn't know.” “Mmhmm.” He kept sewing the seeds perfectly. “Shoot...last I saw him, he was packing his things...at least I think so. Th-that was when I was asking him to appeal to the Princess. He...refused. Probably because he was embarrassed.” “...Embarrassed, you say?” “Yeah.” “Mmhmm.” Still perfect, but his hoof made the box shake with each sowing. “And then...well, you know the rest.” That made him stop. His entire body was on fire. “Wait.” Caramel froze. Mac felt the slightest twinge of guilt, but it was quickly forgotten. “Y-yeah?” “So you're sayin' he never came t'see you after he trashed you?” “...No.” “Not even once?” “...N-no. He moved to Canterlot and I never saw him again.” “Uh-HUH,” he grunted through clenched teeth, starting to sew the seeds a little messily. His boyfriend's voice sounded far away, his ears picking up the box rattle more than anything else. “Mac...don't get any funny ideas, okay?” “Funny ideas?”, he answered with a manic giggle. “Now whut d'you mean by 'funny ideas', babe?” “Mac, 'babe', you're scaring me. W-what's wrong?” He threw the seed box someplace he didn't care to know. He was panting; he was shaking; he had trouble seeing straight. Nevertheless, he made his way over to a cowering Caramel. “Ah jus' don' git it,” he spat. “Ah don' git how somepony could abandon 'is own flesh an' blood like that. It makes me SEETHE, Caramel. It makes me SEETHE to think o' how this happened right under mah nose. H-he was embarrassed? EMBARRASSED?! Ah bet that's why he left you, too, that same EMBARRASSMENT." BOOM. "DAMN IT ALL!” He had stomped just before where the love of his life stood, making the wet earth crumble. He hated how Caramel was shaking...but then, he hated plenty of things right then. He hated how this debacle was years in the making. He hated how it managed to slip under the radar of everypony else. And he hated how Caramel probably still wanted to keep quiet about it. But more than anything else, he hated how he was too angry at the moment to comfort him. “N-now just relax,” the victim tried to soothe. “It happened a few years ago, I've moved on, and that's still my dad you're talking about, so cool it,” he ended on a forceful note. “Yer dad,” the savior grunted through gnashing teeth, “is somepony I don' wanna see anytime soon...Nnope, scratch that, Ah wanna see 'im right now. Ah wanna see his big, smug face right before Ah--” Mel jumped onto his hooves, eyes suddenly full of a rage that had no reason to be. “YOU JUST SHUT UP!” “YOU JUS' LISTEN! If Ah had mah way, that overgrown DEMON wouldn't walk this earth anymore. T'think ponies like that EXIST; what th' HELLS kind o' world are we livin' in?!” He couldn't see anything but Caramel now. He didn't want to see anything else, as the pony's face twisted in his own anger. He wanted him angry in the worst way. He wanted him to dare to fight back. “You're a FINE one to throw around words like OVERGROWN, you hypocrite!” “An' yer DEFENDIN' 'IM! That SLAYS me, Mel, an' no joke. Did he come 'round last night and MAGICALLY redeem 'imself while we SLEPT?! Magic don' work that way, babe! Even if'n it did, NO magic could save THAT pony, Ah'll tell you whut!” “LOOK, you don't KNOW the pony; I DO! You believe or don't believe what you want, but I'LL speak on the subject of MY father, NOT YOU.” Oh, like that was going to work. “Ah ALSO can't believe YOU jus' let all this HAPPEN!” That shut him up. The pony's jaw moved, but couldn't utter a sound. “YER th' victim, YOU should be th' one rantin' an' ravin', not ME! It DISGUSTS me, it SADDENS me t'think o' how you prolly jus' SAT BACK an' TOOK IT ALL, leavin' ME t'come an' rescue you!” “RESCUE me?!” “...You were livin' in a condemned rat hole, Mel. Ah saved you, no doubt 'bout that.” “Oh, really?!” Mel butted heads with the big workpony. Good. He wouldn't need comforting now. “For your INFORMATION, Mr. Savior, I would have been just FINE if you hadn't DESTROYED me at that damn TRACK-AND-FIELD! I had PLANS, Macintosh. Plans based on that day that would have gotten me somewhere nice. And DON'T EVEN tell me you didn't know, the point is you just HELPED me; you did not 'SAVE' me.” “Oh, that soon?”, Big Macintosh countered sourly. “Those plans you had made for, oh, whut wuz it...YESTERDAY?! OBVIOUSLY, you were ahead o' the curve! Not to mention, since Ah DESTROYED you as you said, that...put a...crimp on yer plans...” Whut th' hells am Ah doin'? His ears drooped as his resolve faded. He shouldn't have been yelling at Caramel. He had no good reason to be mad at this pony; especially not when words like that were being thrown around the field. “...Destroyed you?” Caramel took a deep breath, seemingly calming down...but his ears drooped, too. “It was...pretty bad, Mac. I've never been bested at my own talent before. It broke me. But not because I have any real pride in my shoe throwing, because...well, you know.” The damp wind rushed through both their manes. They were both sweaty. “You should be proud o' yer talent,” the eldest Apple sibling objected weakly. “Everypony should.” The disgraced pony's expression remained somber as he said: “If I could eke out any bits from it, I would be. It's not that I hate shoe tricks, really – I used to love it – it's just...everything else...” “Oh, Caramel...” Macintosh sat both of them down and leaned in to touch heads more gently. He only moved to lick above Caramel's muzzle, not wanting to break the connection. “Ah'm sorry Ah yelled at you.” Caramel licked him back. “It's okay. It was...kind of impressive, actually.” That he did not expect. He pulled back to gauge Caramel's whole expression, which turned out to be...eager? Huh? “Impressive?” “Yeah!”, his strange boyfriend confirmed. “You were just into it. I was ready to take you down but you weren't having any of it! I...kind of liked it...Not all of it, but a good deal of it, at least.” Even as much as he didn't expect that, he never expected this. He couldn't help looking aside as the revelation pummeled what sanity he had reclaimed from the shouting match. “Y-You liked it?” He had to eliminate any ambiguity, else...he didn't want to think about it at the moment. Caramel giggled. He actually giggled. His eyes closed as his mouth turned a grin and everything. “Yeah...it got me riled up. I just felt alive, y'know?” His wild expression was dangerous for too many reasons. “...Ah threatened yer father an' insulted you, an' you liked it?!” “Yeeeeah, the second part is where I fell off that wagon,” Mel answered glibly. It was then the ranter realized just what he had said; and he said a lot. No matter how much his colt giggled, it didn't change that. “Ah...Ah didn't mean that stuff. Ah saw those bales, you couldn't've--” He was shushed by the insulted pony's hoof. “Mac...it's okay. You were angry, it happens...but it's good you didn't mean it,” Mel admitted with a smile. The cute pony looked askance to the stockpile before adding: “As for the stuff about my dad...well...it was nice to see you stand up for me. Even if it was a little overkill.” A terrified Macintosh tried to understand what just happened. His boyfriend liked it when he shouted and villified his horrible father. When he shouted about that miserable excuse for a pony...Mel liked it. He kissed the hoof against his muzzle, despite the dirt it had gathered. Mel lowered the now wet hoof. “...Ah suppose Ah can live with that. A little overkill every now an' then can be good,” he said with a nervous grin. Caramel raised his eyebrows. That was more of what he was expecting. “Well, I don't wanna catch you making a habit of it.” He didn't feel nervous anymore, snorting as some anger returned. “No promises there.” “Mac...” “He ain't worth th'--” “MAC!” He looked to Caramel's inexplicably stern face and quieted himself. He wasn't used to having to do that, not since he was little. It made him feel dirty. “Babe...come on,” the abandoned son soothed. “Life's hard enough without making it harder. Let's just figure my stupid body out and move on.” The last sentence echoed in his head as he tried to contain himself. But then he remembered...he had no reason to. He was used to doing it for so long, but now the colt was right there in front of him, trying to appease him. Perfect. “Yer body ain't stupid.” Caramel looked confused...then smiled. As his mare ran a hoof down his chest, Mac felt it was a smile he would come to anticipate. “It ain't?” “Nnope...Ah'll prove it t'you.” That was when the tickling started.
Pinned“That was stupendous!” “Simply breathtaking!” “I'll treasure the memory for the rest of my life!” “That was awesome! I need to get back home, though...” “...I say, darling, did you hear the latest?” “Oh? My lady, what could it be?” “They say the Oranges have a new worker...but he's never moved a plough in his life!” “Surely you jest!” “I jest not!” “What? The Apple Family has a new worker? Who?” “That's weird; I thought they had sorted everything out already. Then again, Wrap Up was a flop...” “Like, chah, that was, rebelatory! I never knew that klutz could do anythang!” “Hold on, madam: a klutz, you said?” “Ohmigawsh, yes! That klutz from the Stallions' Shield Cup or whatevar; he was super grumpeh.” “Hmm...there's only one colt I know of that could fit that description.” “I hope Sylvia's not gonna be mad at me for being late; who could blame me after seeing that?!” “I believe his name was Karmel, darling.” “Karmel? Oh, that can't be right. Who would name their son Karmel, that's absurd.” “Focus, you silly stallion...it's tentative, but there's cause to believe this new pony...is light on his hooves.” “WHAT?!” “WAAAAT?!?! That, like, explains a lot, because I, like, could not get him ta look at mah new hurr!” “...Wait, what does, like, 'light on his hooves' mean anyway?” “My good madam, that will shake this fair town to its foundation if it's true!” “I will keep you posted, darling. Toodles!” “Ta ta!” “Like, no, Toodles is at home! I can't take that puppeh anywhar!” “What did I hear just now? Something about puppies and hooves...” “Psst! Karmel's gay!” “Karmel? Gay? What the hay are you talking about?” “It means he dates stallions.” “WHAT?!” “Yeah! And get this...” Big Macintosh and Caramel ended up staying on the newly seeded field for the rest of the day, mostly just playing with each other, taking their minds off the situation and whatnot. As a result, they completely forgot about Fluttershy, but they decided that was just as well. She had her friends to congratulate her or console her either way; but the two of them needed to get to know each other better... As the sun set, the two headed back to the Homestead. A lot had been said back on that field, so it was hard to know what to say now. The latter decided to make smalltalk. “So how have you and the Oranges been getting along?” Mac grimaced. “I see.” “Eeyup.” Mel glanced to the town: it had gotten so much bigger that it was at risk of creeping up the valley itself. There were gentlecolt's clubs and ritzy sports parks and tourist booths and funky modern residences and businesses he didn't even know existed until now. They had even installed a small amusement park with a roller coaster; it was ridiculous. Something had to be done, but even now, he couldn't think of a thing. He just hoped they weren't here to stay. “Am I...going to have a problem with 'em?”, he asked as he turned away. His roommate just kept facing forward. He couldn't blame the guy. “Just do whut Ah do; don' engage 'em. It's *cough* not worth it.” “...Okay.” “Yer in luck, though; they won't be home 'till later.” He looked to 'home'. “They won't?” “Nnope,” he said with embellishment. “They're 'tourin'' right now.” “Again? I thought they toured yesterday. Wouldn't they be familiar with the town by now, at any rate?” “You'd think that, but you'd be *cough* wrong. Apparently.” Caramel turned to see Macintosh's completely unconvincing smile. It was almost frightening to see the stud express anything that wasn't genuine; but he chalked it up to yet another new discovery about Big Mac. “Since when did you get so sarcastic?” The plastered smile failed. “...Ah blame them.” The former turned pensive as he said: “What exactly went wrong, anyway? I thought they were just visiting y'all. They weren't even here to see Spike!” The latter turned dark as he said: “They got greedy. Simple as that.” Mel glanced to the town again. He had to stop doing that; it was depressing. “Well, let's just go get dinner.” Big Mac nodded wordlessly. “I wonder what we'll have tonight? That salad last night had me reeling. I'll bet it's good.” “It's pasta.” Caramel beamed as Applejack told him before entering the house. He stopped as soon as he registered her plasticine face, however. “...Is there a problem with pasta?” “Oh NO,” the pasta maker exaggerated in a city voice, “it's a DELIGHTFUL dish. Why, I myself am SO eager to partake of it!” She ushered them in, her face obviously struggling to maintain composure. He looked to the sane sibling, whose face remained neutral. The sarcastic face was thankfully nowhere to be seen. “She doesn't like pasta?”, he whispered. Big Mac shook his head. “But they do.” Big Mac nodded. “So I'm just lucky she served something I like.” After a second, Big Mac nodded. “Your throat's sore, isn't it?” Big Mac nodded with a frown. “Well, let's eat.” “Eeyu-*cough* *hack*!” “GAAH! REVOLTING!” “I thought you said--” “*hack* *wheeze*” “Nevermind...” “So...Caramellow, was it?” 'Caramellow' looked to Clementine. Unsure of how to respond, he just made an “I'm listening” face. “How was your first day on the job, if you don't mind me asking, darling...?” After an intentional pause, he made a “It wasn't too bad” face. “I see you're practicing nonverbal communication,” interjected Mosely. “What fun! I think I'll have a go.” Mosely made a “So how was your day REALLY?” face to 'Caramellow'. Caramel responded with a “Fair to middlin'” face. Applejack shot him a “What in Equestria do you think yer doin'?” face. Big Macintosh tapped him on the shoulder, showing him the same face as his sister's. Granny Smith and Applebloom, as it turned out, were making the same face. Caramel made a general “I'm uncomfortable” face. Clementine expertly gave a “Well, don't be so gauche, darling” face. Valencia discreetly made a “What exactly is going on?” face to her husband. Mosely reassured her with a “Just a bit of fun, sweetheart” face. Caramel started to panic, making a “Wow, this pasta sure is good!” face. The Apples mimicked his face, while the Oranges responded with an “It must be a rural custom” face. Big Macintosh privately gave Caramel an “It's okay” face. Caramel smiled. As they settled into bed, Mel cuddled up to his big red pony and buried his muzzle in the withers. Macintosh chuckled softly, probably trying not to upset his throat. He felt so warm...the kind of warmth of which he had dreamed for years to have by his side; he was swimming in that gentle love submerging him without asking anything in return. It was enough to make him forget the subtle chaos outside their home for just one night... But as always, Caramel still had concerns. He pulled his muzzle up. “Babe?” “Hmm...?” Mac's voice was still weak, poor guy. “You don't have to answer right now," he whispered apologetically, "but...I'd like to know if you have a plan for my problem. All we know so far is it affects all of me...which to be honest, I already knew.” His partner sighed...then wheezed softly as he shook his head. “Nothing, huh?”, confirmed Caramel with a hint of dread. “Ponyfeathers...” Suddenly, Mac shook Mel off and turned to face him. The former motioned toward the latter's side of the bed. “Huh?” Mac motioned again. “Turn over?” Mac nodded and smiled. “...Okay.” The anxious pony complied, and was rewarded with a very warm, very big body embracing him from behind. He giggled stupidly as he was kissed on his right cheek. “Hmm...we'll figure it out.” He got kissed on the neck. “Goodnight.” Caramel was in a field. He was a little colt again, playing in the mud without a care. It splashed and flew and landed everywhere. He didn't have to worry about Dad dragging him to another interview now; it was just mud, mud, mud. Mud everywhere. The mud was on the sky. It was literally all over him. He panicked, trying to find his way home before he couldn't see anything anymore. Mud was pouring from his hooves and cutie mark, smothering everything underneath him. He ran faster and faster, making more and more mud to pour behind him and to the sides. Eventually, all he saw was an ugly mix of brown and black. “Hello?! Anypony?! HELP ME!” The little colt ran to every corner, finding himself blocked inside a doorless room. He was completely trapped. “Daddy, I'm scared.” For a second, he thought he heard the sound of a pen clicking...but it was too far away to tell. He pushed himself against one wall, which became all he could see. He struggled and struggled, throwing all of his might against it only to lose his nerve. He slumped and began to cry. “Daddy, please help me...I'm lost.” After a second, Caramel heard the sound of burrowing in front of him. He peered at the fathomless wall...and recoiled when a little Macintosh came bursting through. He was panting with his tongue out, like a dog. Without prompt, he licked Caramel generously. The wagging tongue collected the mud, which was eaten eagerly. “...Macintosh? What happened to you? And why did you eat that?!” He got licked again. And again. As Little Macintosh kept doing it, he got bigger and older, falling down the viscous wall. The licks became tender and strategic. Caramel didn't feel himself grow; he was just a mud-free adult there with Big Macintosh, opting to connect their tongues into a proper kiss. They intertwined decadently as the walls melted. The brown slid down the walls until only black was left. It seemed to pulsate. Mel tried to close his eyes and enjoy the caress, but his eyes were stretched open and his ears were pinned to the sky. A shrill, demonic, feminine voice assaulted him from all corners. It was getting closer. “THIS IS YOUR PRECIOUS PARADISE!” “MMMFH!”, he cried out to his lover. Mac kept kissing him...but he became more and more passionate. He got so invigorated that he shoved his colt against the sky, drinking in the blackness that pulsated around both of them. He drank mindlessly, drinking and drinking until Mel couldn't see him at all. “THPPP, MKKNTOTH!” Black Macintosh slowed his pace down, savoring every curve their tongues made. Then he stopped, pulling away very slowly. Caramel tried to close his eyes. He fought against the psychic pins as hard as he could...but he was stuck. His lover grew fangs and moved in for the kill. Caramel silently screamed as his body was overwhelmed with adrenaline. He was sweaty and confused and disoriented, and on top of it all he was being restrained! He needed to find Big Macintosh, and fast. “Mmmfh.” ...Oh. There he was. Right behind him, like before. The restraints were his legs. He's right there, he's right there, he's right there. He's not evil. He's right there. He repeated the mantra to himself while breathing deeply. That dream was certainly new. If he wasn't careful, he might wake Mac like the day before. But then again, what time was it? Blinking his tired eyes, he spotted the clock with much less effort this time. It was six o'clock. So he slept soundly through most of the night, that was good. He wasn't too familiar with morning farm schedule, other than it started early. He decided to rouse the farm pony for better or for worse. “Mac? Mac...” He felt the legs wrapped around him bring him in closer and tighten their grip. His stud made a sleepy giggle. “Mac! Get up!” He tapped the hooves around his chest, which were thankfully just below his own. He was finding it increasingly difficult to resist the unconscious cuddling. After all, today was going to be significantly frustrating, if last night was any indication. Why not just enjoy it? Just as the thought occurred to him, a bead of sweat dropped from his muzzle and onto the sheets. “Mac! Big Macintosh, let go of me!” He felt the entangled legs loosen as Mac roused. Mel amused himself with the picture of the champion of the Stallions' Field Cup with heavy-lidded eyes and bed hair. It was a shame he still couldn't move to see it. “*snort* Whut?” “You awake?” His boyfriend grumbled. His voice sounded better, that was good. “Eeeeeyup. Somethin' wrong? Wait, whut time 'zit?” “Six.” “...Oh, good, jus' in time. Thanks.” Macintosh finally retreated from Caramel and got up off the bed. The pony remaining glanced to see the face he had imagined, except the real one also had some sleep lines and stubble. Just how old was his stud anyway? He never thought to ask, funnily enough. “Um, sorry if this is a stupid question,” he hazarded, “but just in time for what?” “Nnope, it's a good question,” the groggy pony answered. “It's time fer you to get t' th' field.” Mel wasn't sure he heard that right. Maybe his ears were still pinned to the darkness. “Uh, whaddya mean by that?” “Ah meant just that. Clem's suspicious of you, so it's best you git out there an'...”, he stopped to look outside the door before coming back in, “make like yer workin'. Ah'll join you later, but Ah need t'keep up 'pearances, you know. In fact...let's just make this a rule fer now.” The suspect couldn't help but feel he was being cast aside somehow. “You sure?” “Eeyup. Plus,” he added in a seemingly nervous tone, “it might be good fer her t'see me away from you fer once. Ah say might. Ah could...jus' be paranoid.” The feminine shriek in Caramel's dream came back to him. It seemed strangely significant to him now, making him clammy and anxious like his partner. “...Paranoid about what?” “L-look, just git out there. Ah'll snag some food fer you later. Git!” Despite their mutual paranoia, nothing happened that day. But this also meant no real progress was made. Both of them went to bed feeling decidedly less optimistic.
Inescapable“Good heavens...those two really are brave to do what they do, aren't they?” Big Macintosh couldn't help but overhear Applejack and Clementine make conversation as the first two checked the health of the orange saplings toward the entrance. They weren't about to neglect their plant life, tempting though it was in this case. The cream-colored filly simply sat by the perimeter and gabbed about whatever she felt like, whenever she felt like it. Most of it was ignorable, especially when it came to her dark brown curls (she emphasized the color every time she mentioned it.) That particular rhetorical question, however, made him take notice. Out of habit, he glanced to his left to see the “approved” fields stretch out to where Caramel must have been waiting. A couple of butterflies hovered around the apple saplings there, but nothing else was noteworthy. Yesterday was a wash: all they learned was his left hind leg was indeed weaker than the others, so it did less damage. He didn't want whatever she had to say to ruin this one, too. Applejack wasn't visible to him, but he was sure she was squinting 'that squint' as she asked: “Those two...?” “Oh, your brother and his workmate, dear. Such a risky policy on their parts!” An' jus' whut are you plannin' now? “An' jus' whut are you talkin' 'bout?” Macintosh kept inspecting the saplings. Something about Clem's voice made her compelling enough; but then her eyes just sparkled at the listener. He had seen the deadly combination bewitch her parents into the dangerous pair that invalidated Granny's royal deed to the land. Or maybe it just revealed who they really were the whole time...that was going around lately. He made himself keep his face forward and refused to participate in the banter, no matter how much he wanted to shut her yap. “Well, running off and reducing their work time, of course! It must make things so hard for them when they have to catch up.” Clem had that tone of hers again, the sickeningly sweet one. He didn't like where this was going. But he had to let it go there, or she would just make things worse. “Ah reckon they can handle it.” His sister sounded edgy, and who could blame her? “I would 'reckon' the same if it weren't becoming a habit already,” the little filly almost sang. A habit? Whut're they teachin' foals o'er in Manehattan? “A habit?” “Yes, dear.” “They only did it once! How is that a habit?” This reassured him. He just had to make sure it only happened the once, and no trouble would come to them. Wait... Oh, now he saw what was shaping up here. “Well, it's perhaps not a habit as far as the word means,” Clem teased, “but you know what they say about boys and their break time.” “Ah don' reckon Ah do.” “There's that silly word again! But you must know what I'm saying. All it would take is the slightest desire...and those two would leave the fields fallow for their own pleasure!” This was getting dangerous. Caramel's boyfriend moved on to the next row of saplings as nonchalantly as he could, but his hide fur already bristled at the probable conclusion: perhaps what she was going to threaten to do...was in the works even as they were checking the plants. “Whut 'zactly are you trying t'say, Miss Clemmy?” “I am not saying anything other than those two had better watch themselves. Who knows what could get in their heads? I myself have heard stories of ponies losing their minds when not working.” Losin' their minds...you said that fer a reason, Ah'm sure of it. “Oh, really?”, Applejack countered. “Then perhaps Ah should find a job fer you. There's plenty t'do 'round here!” Heh heh. Ah'd like t'see that! “He he! Maybe I should. Oh, by the way: the last two rows of saplings don't need anything today.” But he already knew it wouldn't happen. She wouldn't be caught in her own trap. Especially when it seemed she had already snagged her game...like a baby cockatrice luring a hapless traveler into its nest. No pesky questions, not askin' fer mah input...eeyup. Whutever she's done, she's already done it. “Really? Mind if'n Ah check? Not that Ah don' trust you, mind.” “But of course! Go right ahead!” As much as he tried to resist the sweet little voice, as much as he tried to think of Caramel's slightly goofy tenor instead...the other Apple sibling finally felt his natural curiosity get the best of him. He looked to the sapling rows in question, only to meet the slippery pony's gaze. She had an eerily serene look, from her lime green ribbons offsetting her crimson eyes, to her pastel blue dress billowing in the April wind. This pony would never look like she belonged. “Those really are some troubling stories, though,” she continued, keeping Mac's eyes trained on her. “If they're not careful, those two...we could be hearing a story like them soon.” “Oh, fiddlesticks, sugarcube. That's th' least o' our—HAY, GIT BACK HERE!” The filly's last words were screaming in his brain. There was only one way she could have known. He was running as fast as whatever sanity he had left would allow; except he knew Clementine had drawn his sister over to her so he could do just that, without his sister catching up to him. But as fear pummeled his insides, he found he cared less and less. However she was doing it, however it came to pass, they had to get away from it. Too much was at stake. He had to tell Caramel, and fast. “I was wondering when you'd—whoa whoa WHOA SLOW DOWN!” Macintosh screeched to a full stop just before where Caramel stood. He did thankfully manage to ensure most of the displaced dirt didn't belong to the recently ploughed fields...but not all of it. Either way, his colt ended up covered in mud. He didn't seem to like it. He took a few seconds to calm himself down, mostly to start planning what would happen next. “Mel, we hafta git away from here. We're bein' watched.” “...How about I finish having a horrifying flashback, then we go?” “Whut?” He really didn't have time for this...but what? Mel made a strained laugh before explaining: “Long story short, I had a nightmare...and I'm reliving it in the worst way.” “Look, could you jus'--” “BIG MACINTOSH, GET YER SORRY SELF BACK HERE!” “Oh, horseapples!” Seeing no other option, he threw the muddy Caramel onto his back and dashed to the right, away from the field. The slimy silt didn't bother him as much as the hot pursuit his sister was making, which made him feel slimy without question. He had to lose her before they got to the barn; it was the only way. “Hold on, an' don' you dare let go.” As he felt Mel cling to him, Mac bolted to the left, making a large arc. He diverted around one of the larger hills. It made the trip longer, but it also made him harder to track with all the curves he was going to make behind it and beyond. Hoofsteps followed them across the stretch, but he knew what to do. It wasn't nice, but he had to do it. His sister was never one for deception...one way or the other. It must have taken every ounce of self-restraint she had to keep smiling at the dinner table. He hated that he was holding secrets from her at a time like this. But if she caught him, he'd have to tell her about Clementine; she'd either think it was ridiculous or horrifying. Whichever it was, she would discuss it with the Oranges, which was unacceptable. Too much damage had already been done. The town was probably spreading rumors as fast as he was galloping to avoid them. They were reaching the last third of the arc...and there sat the barn in the distance. Mac dared to glance back: she was obscured by the collective slope of the hills. He got closer and closer...and then found a safe spot some odd meters before the barn itself. He nearly threw Caramel off his back making a sharp turn, reaching the back of the crevice and finally slowing down to a stop. The whole route was convoluted, but it promised to hide them. Not wanting any hint of their presence, Applejack's brother preemptively shushed his boyfriend. The hoofsteps slowed down as they stopped where the barn stood. “AH KNOW YER IN THERE!” Breathe in, breathe out. “AH'LL GIVE YOU ONE CHANCE T'COME CLEAN! COME OUTTA THERE!” Did Caramel kiss his hoof? Odd time to do so... “T'AIN'T FUNNY, BIG BROTHER!” He agreed on that account. “YOU MADE US LOOK FOOLISH, Y'KNOW! AH BELIEVE THAT FILLY'S SNEAKY LIKE YOU SAY...but t'ain't no reason t'bolt like that! Just come out o' there, real civil like, and let's make amends.” If only it were that simple...Breathe in, breathe out. “ALRIGHT, IF'N YER GONNA BE THAT WAY, AH'M COMIN' IN THERE!” BAM! “...OH, AIN'T YOU JUS' SO CLEVER. AH KNOW YER NEARBY! SHOW YERSELF!” All three of them waited impatiently. The sun was going to set soon. “...FINE. IF YER NOT BACK IN FIFTEEN MINUTES, YOU WON'T LIKE WHUT AH DO 'BOUT IT!” She galloped the short way back to the farm, narrowly missing their spot. Once the area was safe, both the scandalized stallions flopped to the ground. Their heart rates began to settle. Macintosh looked to Caramel. While he wasn't looking, the little pony must have cleaned himself remarkably quietly. “So...”, the now clean pony started, “mind telling me what that was about?” Mac scanned the area: it didn't seem suspect. But then, how was he to tell? “That area we ran from wuz bein' monitored. Ah don' know how, Ah don' know who by, but that spyin' may've put us in a heap o' trouble.” Mel didn't seem to understand. “...Monitored? Why?” Well, at least he didn't question it, not that it would have been unreasonable. But time was precious. “Why not? We're two stallions in love, doin' questionable things away from where ponies can see. Ah'm not th' smartest pony, but even Ah know details ain't needed t'stir up th' townsponies. Y'know 'em as well as Ah do; it won't be pretty.” Mel was shivering a little now, poor guy, as he said: “W-well...I'd say you're pretty smart. I barely even considered h-how intrusive they can be.” The champion snorted. “Be thankful. Frankly, Ah'd rather you not be bothered...Ah'd rather it never came up.” The loser was still shivering. It seemed Caramel's life was nowhere near leaving him in peace, but Macintosh was nowhere near giving up on him...just maybe giving up on something else. He had to pick his battles here. "W-We're so vulnerable...and here I thought we were shut off from the world. T-That's what I get for being silly, huh?" He saw Mel forcing himself to take deep breaths. Mac pulled him closer and nuzzled him. After a while, Mel calmed down enough to where he could speak again. “A-Any idea who it might be?” He shuddered, feeling pinpricks all over his body for each imaginary eye scrutinizing him. “Well, Ah meant Ah don' know who's doin' th' actual spyin'. Clementine's probably usin' th' info.” “Oh, don't be stupid," retorted Mel, despite him still shivering slightly. "How would she even understand this sort of thing?” “She doesn't have ta; she just has t'know t'ain't normal. That's all it takes...” Mel looked toward the town as he asked: “S-so...what do we do now?” “Well...Ah like th' idea o' gettin' th' hells outta here. Maybe Appleloosa or Illineigh, somewhere quiet.” Mac felt his blood pressure rise at the choices. “What?!", exclaimed Caramel, pulling away. "That's a terrible idea! Once everypony knows we've gone, they'll just go crazy with stories!” “But if'n we stay here, we'll be paraded 'round like track-an'-field champeens!”, countered the swaggerless pony. The confusing memory still made him queasy. He was tempted to vomit that day just so they would leave him alone, not that it would have been hard. “...So either way, we're screwed.” “Eeyup.” The barn looked inviting to him now. “In that case, I say we stay and face the music,” a suddenly brave Mel proposed. Mac gulped. The eyes pricked him even deeper. “...Well, if you could do that alone, that'd be nice. Ah cain't stand th' thought of it.” Caramel looked disgusted, but just raised his eyebrows as he said: “Nice try. If I'm doing it, you're doing it.” “...Ah want 'nother plan.” “There ain't no other plan, babe!”, Mel struck back. “Why are you trying to squirm out of this? What, you're suddenly shy again? That competition never happened, is that what you're saying?” Big Macintosh flinched. His lover seemed to know exactly how to get at him, and at the worst time. Just what he needed. “Th-that's got nothin' t'do with this, an' you know it.” “Oh, yeah?!”, Mel escalated. “Then tell me this: why did you enter in the first place?” Upon hearing those words, his throat dried up, his will to fight died. He looked to his usually sweet and sassy lover with nothing but fear. Please, anythin' but this. “That always bothered me,” the loser continued. “You're just not the type to go preening around like that...or at least I thought you weren't. I believe you got carried away like you said...but what made you enter anyway? What did you have to gain?” “C-Caramel...can this wait? We got other issues--” “No. I want an answer. It makes no sense for you to do what you did, not for anypony else but you. So just say it now and get it over with. What are you hiding from me?” “...” Please, jus' drop it. “Well?!” “...Ah...Ah...” Please, forgive me. “Just spit it out.” “...Ah...entered that competition...because o' you.”
CreviceAs he knew Caramel would be, the pony was completely dumbfounded. And why wouldn't he be? It was an awful way to put it, dammit. He was always doing that. “...What...What the hells does that mean?” He just had to come clean. He was busted no matter what he did now. “...Well...Ah guess there's no nice way t'say it. Ah wanted t'make you angry.” Predictably, this seemed to make him...oh, still confused. Fair enough. “You wanted...to make me angry. Explain that to me.” The former swaggerer sighed. “Remember how Ah said Ah fell in love with you when we were both young?” “Yeah...I did, too. So?” “Well," he began reluctantly, "waitin' fer all that time wuzn't easy. Ah distracted m'self with work an' sometimes watchin' you nudge trees or whutever. So when you made yerself scarce...” “Uh-huh...” Caramel looked to the barn. “It burned me up inside. Ah thought Ah could handle it, but Ah missed you too much. Th' most Ah felt Ah could do wuz tell mah family 'bout me. An' even then, Ah hated it. Then everythin' started changin'--” “Focus, babe.” He shook his head before continuing: “Sorry. Anyway, when th' Cup came 'round, AJ bugged me t'go compete, nevermind why. Ah wuzn't interested 'till Ah saw you of all ponies were part of it. An' that was when it hit me.” The love of his life looked apprehensive. “...Go on.” “Ah had never seen you angry before, ever. You always smiled when you had trouble before, an' that wuz whut drew me t'you. But you never seemed t'be mad or frustrated as long as Ah had known you. Ah...Ah felt it, then.” “It?” “Seein' as you were gonna go against athletes, Ah knew you were gonna hafta show yer anger. An' Ah wanted it. Ah entered t'make you mad...t'make you mad at me. Ah wuz greedy for it, t'be honest.” He was starting to feel that guilty happiness. Caramel looked like he didn't believe a word of it. He looked ready to tear into the champion...but then smiled smugly. “Well, I guess you were disappointed, then. I really wasn't that angry at all. Maybe a little confused, but--” “Nnope,” Mac interrupted, feeling giddy. “Y'were redder that day than Ah am any day. You looked like Ah had stolen yer mare or somethin'.” “No I didn't,” Mel denied a little too quickly. “Yes you did, an' don' deny it. You were beside yerself, and heavens above it looked good on you...” He felt himself smiling at the memory...but then saw his stallion wrestling with – and then realizing – the truth and remembered just how guilty he was. He couldn't smile this away like Caramel could. “Ah just...wanted t'be with you. Ah wanted t-t'feel you mad at me, Ah-Ah was desperate. But then it turned out Ah liked competin', an' well, you know th' rest,” he finished as quickly as he could make it. He felt his brain scraggling as they both stood there wordlessly. It was choking him. He felt himself getting ready to blurt out something. Just how much had he changed? “Ah-Ah liked it. Ah'm not proud of it, but seein' you fume 'n sneer...Ah enjoyed it. It wuz like Ah wuz seein' th' real you, an' Ah wanted that so bad. An-An' Ah'll say it again, Ah never meant t'break you. When Ah saw yer face after th' shoe throwin'...Ah hated mahself then. At least a little.” The horrible memory sprung tears in his own eyes...but it felt so good to get it out. He felt he was deliberately making himself sad; maybe then, everything would be okay. “You looked so small...so fragile. Ah respected you so much all this time, and t'see you so hurt...so hurt because o' me...it killed me. Ah jus' wanted t'hold you and tell you how sorry Ah am, oh, Mel, forgive me...!” He had broken himself. All of his guilt, all of his grief was pouring out unabated, ignorant of his surroundings. The time he spent bawling was meaningless to him. He just reached out to touch Caramel, to be comforted...but found no hoof in return. He struggled to be coherent: “M-Mel...please. Ah'm so sorry. Ah've wronged you, but Ah love you so much. Ah'll make it up t'you. Please forgive me...” His teary eyes didn't tell him what his joy in life was doing. He just heard hoofsteps pacing around him aimlessly. He wanted to touch him, to reassure him if not himself. He wanted this to stop. Caramel was silent until the sun blazed red. Or maybe it was the other way around. Those baby blue eyes shone against the searing red perfectly...why wasn't Caramel happy? Didn't he realize how fantastic he was? “...Who are you?” That threw him off. Already he felt his tears drying. 'Who are you?' What kind of question was that? “Um...whaddya mean by that?” “Who is this pony in front of me? He's not Big Macintosh, he can't be.” Anxious Macintosh cleared his tight throat. ...Who was he? “Don't be silly, babe. Ah'm me...Ah always have been!” Caramel stopped pacing, blocking the sun behind him. “I don't know anymore. I really don't.” “...Mel?” “Don't call me that right now; Big Macintosh called me that. But he wouldn't lie to me like this. He wouldn't manipulate me into throwing all my self-worth into a shoe throwing contest just to tear me down. He wouldn't threaten to kill my father, whether in the heat of passion or not. Whether he deserved it or not. And he certainly wouldn't deceive his own sister because he was afraid to tell everypony that he was...a little unconventional!” Mac was completely speechless. He was so speechless because he was so thoughtless. “So you wanted to make me angry. You wanted to see me get riled up so you could get your jollies. You know what?” He was afraid to answer. “I don't even mind that. In and of itself, it's...bizarre, sure, but I can...I can almost understand it. Almost. I don't know, maybe I'm the crazy one.” You did nothing wrong, babe. If'n anypony's crazy, it's me. Yer mane is so purdy in th' sunset. Fiery red like yer heart. “But you know what does get me?” He held his breath. It was all he had. Please, no more. “...And then what?” Whut? “Whut?” “You get me angry and win the competition seeing my red hot face. And then what? You just trot away into the sunset? You go crash all the fancy new bars and pick up some mares for a forgettable night? What were you going to do...if you didn't see me die a little inside that day? You didn't seem to care about that at all! That's what gets me!” Mac felt his brain suspend itself. It was a question for which he didn't have an answer. He was dry, he was stuck, he was alone. He was dangerously close to losing Caramel. “...Ah...Ah didn't really think that far ahead--” “Yes, you did.” Mac's brain hurt. But then, he hurt all over. He hurt in places and levels he didn't know he had before he mated with this unhappy pony. He didn't know what had happened, let alone what was happening. “Ah-Ah did?” “You weren't born yesterday. You knew full well that another day was gonna come, and that you'd have to make your way through it. So what were you going to do?” The sun blazed a deeper red. What his mare said was undeniable. As soon as he got what he wanted, he didn't feel the need to do anything else besides savor it. He must have planned to do something. If that were the case, there was only one thing he was ever going to do. “...Ah would've worked.” It was then Caramel made the face. Everypony knew that face. It was face parents made that made all children of all ages regret everything they had ever done up until that point. It was the face of a broken heart. “You would've worked.” “...Eeyup.” “You would've worked.” Ah'm sorry...wait...why 'zat so bad? Ah always work. Why're you so jarred by that? “Ah reckon so...” The face grew more devastated. Were they even talking about the same thing? “You 'reckon'. You...'suppose'. You didn't even have an agenda for that day. It was just: wake up, eat, work, eat, work some more, sup, and go to bed. That's it. That's what you're telling me.” “...Eeyup. So?” Caramel's neck now matched the red hue of his face. That wasn't good. “...Unbelievable. Are you listening to yourself?” It was getting to where he couldn't tell the sun and the mare apart. He had to calm her down. “Babe, come on, think 'bout it,” he crooned with a smile. “It's no big deal.” “Did you hear the latest, old chap?” “I hope so! News around here make or break a pony.” “DUDE. The match today was just UNREAL. That's one to tell the kids!” “Oooh, pretty butterflies! What are they doing here?” “No big deal?” “Evidently, the new work pony is actually named Caramel. He's beige with a brown mane; most everyone hasn't seen him since the Cup, either!” “Ah, that explains it. A pony who's light on his hooves isn't easy to miss—or so I've heard...” “Have you looked around here lately? I bet at least half the ponies here now are just faking it.” “What was that? Oh, never mind. But guess what else?” “Think about it?” “What, fellow, what?” “He has a stallion friend. And said friend is local.” “Babe...?” “What?! That's just...wait. How local do you mean by local?” “Has anypony – I mean, anyone seen Rainbow Dash? She just disappeared...” “No. Big. Deal?!” “I'll give you a hint: he's living on the Apple-Orange Company Acreage.” “...Well, only two males live there, and it certainly isn't old Mosely...dear Celestia, that could only mean...!” “Oooh, what, what?” “That Macintosh fellow! The Cup champion fancies his own?!” “Caramel, please calm down. Yer...yer scarin' me a little.” “Huh? Whazat mean?” “Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy are gone, too...what's going on?!” “Don't be dumb; it means he's gay.” “...WHAT?! BIG MACINTOSH IS GAY?!” “WHAT?!” “You seriously think it's no big deal?!” “YOU'RE JOKING! As if...as if things aren't bad enough!” “As Gay Macintosh would say: NNOPE!” "Great. Now WE have to deal with this!" "I don't even...h-how dare he?! Just when I was ready to forget about all this new crud coming into town, THIS comes up!” “WHERE ARE THEY?! I CAN'T FIND THEM ANYWHERE!” “I can't BELIEVE he would do something that WEIRD. How does that make us look?!” “WELL, LET ME TELL YOU SOMETHING, YOU STUPID, OVERFED HORSE!”
Caramel“...Do you know why I always smiled, no matter how tough things got for me?” “...W-why?” “You. It was because of you—I mean, Big Macintosh. That stupid idiot.” “...Whut? Really? But first, could you back off on--” “Quiet.” “...” “I saw you--him working when we were both colts. He looked so happy, so carefree. I envied him, I really did.” “...” “No, it was more than that. He was my idol. Everything went right for him, like it was meant to be. I thought if I just smiled, then I would be like him; I-I thought things would start going right for me. So whenever I couldn't do something or broke something, I smiled and just kept going like he did.” “...Ah loved that smile.” “...Big Macintosh didn't seem to notice. I guess he was too busy.” “Mel--” “Just shut up. It wasn't just that smile, I also didn't cry because of him. Not even when I was alone! He seemed to have no reason to cry whatsoever, so I mimicked him. Put both of those together and you get a seemingly sweet pony who never lets anything get at him. That's how what I wanted ponies to see me. That's how I wanted him to see me.” “Ah did see you--” “SHUT UP. You have no right to talk to me after everything that happened. But anyway...I guess that's the thing about smiling, though. Even if you don't mean it, you feel better when you do it. I was just almost happy...I guess I tricked myself into making the most of it, into being as sweet as caramel. But I wasn't sweet. I was just a bitter, worthless reject that ruined whatever he touched. Smiling didn't make me a better pony or make my life any better, and that's still true today. Don't even try to contradict me. "But you know what I did? I kept smiling! I kept smiling because it helped me forget that I was failing every class in school because I couldn't turn in half my assignments! I looked at him and smiled because it helped me forget that my own father wouldn't look me in the eye at dinnertime, no matter how much Mom and I begged him to! And I fucking smiled because it helped me pretend that Mom and the other doctors weren't losing their minds trying to diagnose me correctly. "...And I didn't cry because it made me feel better about how I had burned every single bridge to success there is without even trying. I didn't even shed a tear when Mom died because it made my dad proud of me. I didn't shed a tear when he moved away...because I had no tears to shed. "Big Macintosh was the only thing that made me smile like I meant it. He made me feel like...like I wasn't completely helpless.” “...*sniffle* Mel...” “But then I met you. You made me cry more in four days than I had done in my entire life. You remind me of just how horrible my life is constantly. Every time I look at a damn horseshoe, I remember how you turned my entire existence into a joke at that competition. And you know what? I...I forgive you for that. I do. But what I can't forgive is how you were ready to just leave me hollow and broken after trying to make me hate myself AND I DIDN'T EVEN REALIZE IT UNTIL NOW!” “WHOA, WHUT?! Ah wuz NOT tryin' t'do that, not even at th' START!” “OH, SURE! Make the klutz look at how awesome you are at everything and how he can't do anything! NOTHING BAD CAN COME FROM THAT!” “...Baby, Ah had no idea it would hurt you, AH SWEAR!” “THAT'S WHY I—no. I don't hate you. I can't. That's the worst part. You're so thoughtless and greedy when you used to be so wonderful, but I can't hate you even now. It hurts...it hurts so much...WHY?! WHY DID YOU ABANDON ME?!” “AH DIDN'T ABANDON YOU! AH SAVED YOU! WHY...why're you fretting over what mighta been? Ah did see you and Ah didn't like whut Ah saw; Ah saw mah reason t'live in tears an' Ah wuzn't afraid anymore. Baby, all Ah know is Ah love you, please just--” “JUST WHAT?! JUST PRETEND MY ENTIRE LIFE NEVER HAPPENED?! PRETEND MY FUTURE IS CLEAR AND BRIGHT WHEN IT CAN'T BE?! DON'T INSULT ME!” “AH'M NOT INSULTIN' YOU! AH LOVE YOU!” “IF ONLY THAT WERE TRUE!” “YOU HAVE NO REASON T'DOUBT ME!” “YOU ALWAYS SAY THAT, DAD!” There was nothing more to say. Caramel walked toward the barn, and Macintosh walked toward town. Neither felt they deserved to be anywhere else. Applejack was gone. I don't know who he is. But he's not my dad. It hurts so much. Well, Ah wuz wonderin' whut Ah am, an' now Ah know. Ah'm evil.
Ponyville's LightsCaramel chewed lazily on a few straws of hay. He had forgotten just how old it was. The reserves were meant to keep ponies alive if any emergency came up, not to delight the taste buds. But even then, it had been a while since the hay was replaced. It was like chewing on sadness and disappointment. He remembered the one straw Big Macintosh usually chewed. He always thought it was just an excuse not to talk to ponies; and who could blame him? The big lug would just chew and chew while others just yammered on about who-cared-what. They seemed to appreciate his withdrawn nature when the straw bobbed and spun in his mouth. If only they knew what he was thinking that whole time...When Caramel did it, he was sure he just looked hungry. After a few minutes of self-punishment, he spat out the spoiled cud. Maybe it was bearable when the hay was good, who was to say? In any case, it was a ridiculously easy habit to kill. Wanting to get rid of the taste, he wobbled over to the bucket and gargled the rainwater. Bad idea. He almost retched spitting the fetid water out of his revolted mouth. It had been sitting there for days, so he wasn't surprised at the green film that once sat atop the surface, until he swept it around his tongue. He was surprised at the fact that he didn't notice before he did it. Even with the sun's fading crimson blaze on top of it, it wasn't exactly subtle. Feeling no less relieved, he sat down next to the blanket on the broken hay. Just what happened back there? It was like I was just a foal again. I don't mind yelling if I have to...but that was so raw. I just couldn't stop it, I had to keep going or it was going to drive me crazy. I can't believe I called him Dad. That was so dumb. What, I can't even tell the difference between them? I love both of them, yeah, but there's no reason for that; it's just silly. He seemed just devastated by it, probably because he hates the guy so much. Well, you know what? He's still my father and I love him, why can't you see that? In fact, why were you so surprised by it? Yeah, you weren't expecting it, but I was angry and hurt and confused, so I was bound to blurt out something ridiculous. At least I didn't smile and try to cover it up like I did with Dad; he never understood that. He liked it, but he never understood it, I could tell. He was confused by lots of stuff, and Big Macintosh looked really confused...maybe that's why I said it. Whatever, water under the bridge...I guess... ...I haven't thought about Mom in years. I tried to forget with everything I had to do...but it all just came back at once, the stupidly small funeral, her way too calm face when she died, the doctors, Dad's face, the doctors, the funeral the doctors doctors doctors never did anything could have done everything should have done something instead of nothing like you did sneaking out in the middle of the night how dare you who does that please don't be mad at me I'm sorry I'm sorry it hurts I'm sorry! Mac I'm sorry you're nothing like him no way not at all you're kind and sweet and generous and dedicated but who are you? I don't know who you are! Nopony does! I'd forgive you if I knew who you were but who is that I don't know do you even know? One moment you're wonderful then you're mindless then you're wonderful again it doesn't make sense you don't make sense! Oh look a butterfly a butterfly by itself why is it by itself why is it even here? It's resting on my old shoe I love that shoe I forgot it here wow. I just left it here with my two medals, geez I was in a hurry. I left so much here without even thinking about it and Mac got all of it oh Celestia what have I done? Shoo butterfly go sit somewhere else. What do I do now I probably lost my boyfriend my only chance and I didn't even earn that chance he just gave it to me unconditionally he's so sweet oh gods above...I ruined my own life my own ruined life I ruined it's all ruined I AM RUIN. I ruined Big Macintosh I did this to him it's not his fault wait yes it is he never talks...but he didn't have to until me but he was so brash and oblivious at the stadium but that was because of me no it was his competitiveness he didn't know about which isn't his fault or is it I don't know I don't know anything I'm so confused...! Silence. Complete silence. This barn is so quiet, no creaks, no drips, no squeaking mice, nothing. Please stop being quiet. I hate it. I always have, wait, no, that's not right. Well it doesn't matter I hate it it's creepy. “La di da di da da da...I'm all alooooooone in this stupid baaaaaaaaaaaarn...” I hate this. I hate most everything, but I really hate this it's stupid it's pointless it's unbearable why am I doing this? I shouldn't be here, I should be...what was it...RUMORS! I forgot about the rumors! I should be taking care of those maybe then he'll forgive me oh Mac I'm so sorry really I am I messed up you didn't deserve that... Is somepony out there? I heard trotting...oh. Tourists. They keep changing their route and time, it's so annoying. Well, they certainly sound lively. But how do I do it? I said I would face the music, but how do I even go about it? I don't have any shoe tricks to dissuade a mob of bigoted ponies; that's not how it works. I guess...I guess if all else fails, I can distract them with it so Mac could escape from town and go where he wants. As for me? As for me, as for me...it doesn't make a bit of difference. Dear Princess Celestia, why was I born so helpless? Yours truly, Caramel Oh no, look at that, the letter fell apart before I could send it! What a shocker! At least it was just an imaginary one; imagine if it were a real one! That would be embarrassing! ...He was always embarrassed of me. You never were. “...I miss you.” “THERE HE IS! I HEARD HIS VOICE!” BAM, BAM, BAM! “OPEN UP, FREAK! YOU GOT A LOT TO ANSWER FOR!” “YEAH!” Oh no, no no no, not here. Why are they here? Why are they doing this now? “Like, no one seduces mah champion, and, like, gets away with it, chah...” “Your boyfriend wouldn't talk, so you better be ready to answer for two! You sick little devil...” Devil? How very creative. Wait, they questioned him? And he couldn't say anything?! “WE KNOW IT'S YOUR FAULT! YOU'VE ALWAYS BEEN WEIRD; YOU CHANGED HIM! WELL, YOU'RE NOT GONNA CHANGE ANYONE ELSE!” “YEAH!” “TELL IT LIKE IT IS!” Anyone? Are they still on that? Good gravy... “OPEN UP OR WE'RE TAKING THIS BARN DOWN! YOU GOT TEN SECONDS!” I can't believe this is happening. “TEN!” What the hells do I do now?! “NINE!” Big Macintosh can't handle crowds like this, not when they're out to get him. He can barely stand up to those he loves, let alone strangers. “EIGHT!” Well, not strangers, really. Some of them. Most of 'em will just be ponies who were always here...swept up in the mania. “SEVEN!” I can't just sit here and wait to be humiliated...or worse. I have to do something! “SIX!” But they're crowding the door! What can I do about that?! “FIVE!” I suppose...there's really only one thing I can do. The only thing I could ever do. “FOUR!” But that'll just make 'em think I'm freakier than before. No, I need...I need old Cheerilee. “THREE!” Yeah...here we go, girl; it's time to show 'em what we can really do. “TW— THWACK, THWACK, THWA-CRASH! “AAAAAAAAAAAAH!” The barn door laid in splinters in front of the small mob. Caramel walked calmly into the open, two red ribboned medals swinging under his neck, making sure to avoid the wood strewn around the dazed ponies (some with makeshift signs saying something along the lines of “Protect Ponyville”.) He stared them down, twirling his favorite shoe with his tail all the while. They were lost for words, and he was ready. “No comment.” Who cared about this bunch? The bulk of the mob had to be in town...where Big Macintosh had to be, too. They were tormenting their champion, no doubt. Time was precious. Keeping his shoe twirling at high velocity, he galloped away from the disoriented crowd...only to fall over not too far from them. Damn his left hind leg. He needed a ride...but how was he going to find one here? Well, as silly as it sounded, he had to try. “TAXI!” Come on, come on...! “D-DON'T LET HIM GET AWAY!” “B-BUT HE'S ARMED!” “Wait, you guyz. He's, like, really vulnerable right now. Let's, like, just drop it, because eww. Not worth it.” “WHAT?! HAS YOUR GUM WARPED YOUR MIND, MARE?!” “Um, whaddya, like, mean?” “HAS YOUR...OH, FORGET IT!” “You don't have to, like, keep shouting. It's really, like, getting on mah nervez, chah.” “Someone call for a taxi?” Like a prayer answered, Rick Shaw arrived with taxi cart in tow. He looked considerably confused by the situation. “Somepony called for a taxi,” answered Caramel, “and that's me. But I'll only take it on two conditions.” He hung the shoe around his neck. “Okay...”, hesitated Rick, “what are they?” Caramel looked briefly to the mob: they were leaderless and clueless now. “That I ride on your back instead of the cart,” he stated, “and that you run into town as fast as you can!” He hopped onto Rick Shaw's back. “I-It's really better if you--” “JUST DO IT!”, shouted Caramel before kicking Rick's sides. The taxi pony whinnied as he charged away from the fields. The town lights were focused on the square, it seemed. This was looking worse and worse by the second... “Head to the square, but stop by the rec park first! Just trust me!” No matter what you think of me...I'm coming to make things right. Just hang in there... “How could you?!” “I looked up to you, you know! And then you pull this!” “Ponyville used to be a great place! Ponies like you ruined it!” “If an Apple family member is carrying himself like this, then maybe the Oranges should take over after all, darling.” “Take that yoke off, stand up, and face me like a real stallion!” “CAN I GET EVERYPONY'S ATTEN--” “SHUT UP!” “Move aside, old mare! We got business to handle!” Beyond those kinds of words, Big Macintosh couldn't understand what was being shouted at him, near him, to the others, whatever...all he knew was it was best to just lie in the center and not fight it. They had coerced him there, the lights were focused there, so they obviously wanted him there. If he tried to say anything, his voice died in his throat. If he fought back, he would either seriously hurt somepony or they would find some way to overwhelm him. He just laid there, hooves over his ears, eyes closed...and waited for it to end. The sun had finally set, leaving a dull blue ocean above them all. He was alone. He was ready to beg for it to end, the harsh, hateful voices and shoves getting harder and harder to ignore. He didn't care about how Ponyville may or may not have been corrupted, whether he ruined their ideal of masculinity; he just wanted to take his Caramel and get out of there. Not that he could get to him...not that he had any right to take him away from there. The last words still racked his body with self-loathing. To even be accused of resembling that wicked pony, of that family deserter...he wanted to smack Caramel for saying it. After housing him and feeding him, he had the nerve to say that?! He wanted to hold the pony up by the ear and demand an apology for such an insult! Nopony deserved to be called that. But Mel said it because he did resemble the deserter a bit. He had dragged the poor pony around, reminding him of his helplessness, only to crush what hopes he had and (almost) leave him there to drown in despair. He resembled Caramel's father by the behavior that ruined Caramel's life. It wasn't on purpose, he wasn't even aware of it...and that was the worst part. He wasn't in control of his worst quality... Caramel... All the voices and shoves against him might as well have been his own. This served as his punishment for his error, even as the crowds became more and more restless. He just hoped and prayed for them to stop... “GET UP AND FIGHT BACK, YOU TRAITOR!” Jus' stay calm an' stay down. “YOU REALLY HAVE CHANGED! YOU DISGUST ME!” Ow...that wuzn't necessary. Jus' bear it, jus' bear it...s-so what if'n he sounds like Mel, just don't do anythin' silly. “I wanted to start a family with you! I had plans, plans that you RUINED!” Well...that jus' fits in nicely, doesn't it? Ah tend t'ruin plans all 'round. “HOW CAN YOU LIKE STALLIONS? IT'S REVOLTING, IT'S...BACKWARDS, IT DOESN'T MAKE SENSE! I-IT'S JUST WRONG!” Wait...it's wrong? How d'you reckon that? OW! “QUIT COWERING! TAKE YOUR PUNISHMENT LIKE A REAL PONY!” YEOW! T-this hasta stop...whut did Ah get mahself into?! “I'VE BEEN WAITING TO DO THIS SINCE YOU HUMILIATED ME!” “...S-stop...” “WHAT WAS THAT?! SPEAK UP, STUD LICKER!” “...Ah-Ah *cough* said stop...” He tried to get up, but was headbutted back into lying on the cobblestone. “OH, YOU WANT ME TO STOP? YOU HEAR THAT? HE WANTS ME TO STOP!” “S-stop it before Ah--” “OOOOOOH, I'M SO SCARED! WELL, YOU KNOW WHAT? YOU JUST TRY IT! YOU JUST TRY TO TAKE US DOWN, YOU PERVERTED BULLY!” “AH SAID STOP--” CLANG! From out of nowhere, a single shoe crashed between Macintosh and his assaulter. The latter backed off as both watched its high-velocity circle around the former in a stupor. They didn't even know that was possible. CLANG! From the north part of town, a second shoe crashed in the same area and started circling in the opposite direction. Just what was going on here? The only shoe trickster who might bother to intervene was... Oh no no no. Not here, not against them. He hoped it wasn't-- CLUNK! A third shoe struck the first two as they crossed paths. All three of them tumbled and spun, the first two landing fairly quickly on the ground in front of him. The third flew straight upward until it landed just above the other two, spinning on one of its ends like a flipped bit. It spun and spun and spun...the entire mob watched it slow down and become unsteady. It looked ready to finally lay flat on the ground; that was when a beige hoof stomped it, making it face north. “Where did that pony come from?!” “Wait...hey! It's Caramel, the klutz from the Cup! He's got the medals he was too stuck up to accept!” “Wait, he didn't accept them? Why would he do that?” Caramel had his eyes closed, taking a deep breath. Macintosh was completely nonplussed as he saw his love standing in the middle of the once raving ponies. Mel shouldn't have been there...but it seemed they weren't going to go after him. They were just after their former champion. Good...he could live with that. He dared to whisper: “Caramel, git th' hells outta here!” Bad idea. “Wait...is this the pony? The one who seduced you?” CLANG! A precision shoe throw answered the delusioned policepony. It ricocheted off the street to be twirled around the thrower's tail, who then set it down meaningfully. “Yes...and no,” Caramel called out to the crowd. “Yes, because he is my boyfriend...and no, because nopony seduced him as you say.” “TH-THESE TWO ARE DANGEROUS! WE GOTTA GET RID OF 'EM!” “DANGEROUS?!,” Mel shouted. “DANGEROUS?! T-TELL ME WHAT YOU CALL ALL OF THIS? THIS ISN'T DANGEROUS? I see policeponies mobbed around! I see athletes and shopkeepers, gardeners and mailponies...FRIENDS and ESTEEMED community members torturing him...just what do you think you're all doing?!” The mob began to shuffle around and dissipate ever so slightly. Mac watched Mel walked over next to him, chest puffed out and head held high. He looked...he looked... Beautiful. “Never mind the fact this guy could have pulverized you,” the newcomer began, causing winces from several offenders, “this is just wrong. I know - believe me, I know - that things have been crazy for the past month. For those that have lived here and for newcomers, our ways of life have been threatened by forces we didn't even know existed. The business upheavals, the weird building projects, the rich and poor ponies being at odds, the dragons challenging Spike, Rarity and other ponies disappearing when we need them...it's a mess! It's all weighed heavily on us and maybe made us a little agitated...maybe eager to take it out on the biggest target..." Although Mac saw half of the mob stubbornly clung to their signs and refused to move, he saw the other half obviously faltering in their intent. "But this is the bottom line: ponies don't do this to other ponies! It's a mockery of everything we stand for, everything we've had to overcome! Just look at yourselves! Tell me just what it is you're doing!” Slowly but surely, the ponies in the mob began nervously looking around them. Some of them snorted in denial, some started crying, some coughed, but none of them said a word. Big Macintosh shivered as Caramel laid a calm hoof on his shoulder. He didn't deserve comfort from him...but he wasn't about to turn it away. “This pony here...is still Big Macintosh. We all know him, we all love him, and I'm here to tell you nothing has changed. So he likes stallions...so what? It's not like he's the first to ever do it, you know. Did y'all know that? I bet half of y'all didn't even know what that kind of thing is until recently! We just never talked about this sort of thing before...but now it's suddenly evil? Apparently! Y'all didn't even understand it, and yet you went and ganged up on this sweetheart? Who's the bully now?!” “HEY! D-DON'T MUDDY THE ISSUE! HE BETRAYED US!” “YEAH!” Macintosh gulped. The memory still stung as strongly as ever. But Caramel kept his head held high...he was going to keep fighting no matter how bad it got, wasn't he? “Prove it.” “...What?” Everypony was confused now...even the one huddled in the middle of the street. This seemed like an odd approach. More ponies began to self-consciously examine themselves. Mac heard the upper-crusty ponies on the edges chat with each other. He had good faith they didn't incite the riot...but who knew what the rich types were thinking? Clementine looked like a perfectly nice filly, after all. But all of this paled in the knowledge that Caramel was bravely defending his honor, which made him so deliriously happy he couldn't feel his legs. Ah love you so very much, babe. An' Ah hope you can forgive me... “I said prove it. How did he betray anypony?” “You mean anyone.” “...No. I don't. I know a lot of you didn't even know Big Macintosh until the Stallions' Field Cup. Did he say or do anything which would make this little episode 'treacherous'?” “H-HOW DARE YOU? YOU...YOU RAN AWAY FROM THE CUP, YOU PANSY! SHUT YOUR FACE!” Now Macintosh felt himself sweating. He knew this was going to get nasty if somepony didn't do something. He tore his gaze away from the seething crowd to its detractor, who was sweating himself. They shared a meaningful stare. Caramel, jus' git outta here... I-I'm not leaving you here. Just let me handle it. “Well, if I may interject, dear ponies...even if he did not do anything 'treacherous', his behavior over the last few days is certainly suspect. It does make one wonder if he is suitable for running that massive acreage, does it not?” “Hey, yeah! The Apple Family's been floundering all month for no good reason." "They even stopped selling apples last week!" This is unprofessional behavior, and not for the first time! Let the Oranges have the farm!” “ORANGES FOREVER! ORANGES FOREVER!” The eldest Apple sibling was truly afraid. Not because his family was so close to losing the farm, not because the townsponies had so little faith in them...but because Caramel's face was resolute and undaunted in the face of it all. Because he knew what his baby was about to do. “You wanna know why his behavior was suspect? YOU WANNA KNOW?!” “SAY IT ALREADY!” “IT'S BECAUSE HE...it's because was helping me. He was...he was helping me because...I'm cursed.” No...you don' hafta do this, it might ruin everythin'...! “Before you start murmuring...l-let me show you.” “Babe...” “I-It's okay...I can show them,” declared Caramel as he set down the medals. “I should have showed them a long time ago...” “Just what in the six hells is going on?!” “Is this going to be some lame trick?” Mac helplessly watched everything he held dear in his heart risk it all as he pressed the medals under one hoof and yanked on the ribbons with the other. The ribbons fell into dozens of paper thin threads, which Caramel blew aimlessly into the crowd. The silver medallions sat lifelessly next to him, shining in the city lights. “...What just happened?” “It is a lame trick! I knew it! That's just...guys? It's just a lame trick...right? Right?” “P-Pulling on them wouldn't make them do that...would it?” “It wouldn't,” answered Caramel, “if it weren't me pulling on them. This is what I am; I guess you could call me a 'disintegrator'. Whatever I touch falls apart, with minor exceptions. I can't buck apples since I'd ruin them, if not the trees; I can't sow seeds because they get blown away once the box crumbles; I can't push papers or important documents get destroyed...y'all get the idea. Long story short, I'm terminally jobless. I...I didn't tell y'all because I was scared of what y'all would think. But you know what?” The crowd was speechless. So was Macintosh. “When I told this big lug here about it,” the speechmaker intoned lovingly, “he vowed to help me overcome it. He didn't push me away or *cough* taunt me or try to prove he was better than me...he gave his time and *wheeze* resources to try and figure out if I really have to live with this. Now tell me...would an 'unprofessional', 'treacherous' pony do that?” The closest ponies to the two of them bowed their heads in thought, while others further away started whispering, presumably about what they had just learned. Macintosh, on the other hoof, was amazed at just how attractive Caramel was at that moment. He was ready to be a little unprofessional, so to speak...but quelled the urge for the sake of presentation. “Now...*cough* *wheeze*, even though I was *cough* afraid to *hack* tell y'all about *wheeze*” “Get him some water!” “J-just be sure it's *cough* clean water...” Lyra walked over and gave Caramel a glass of mineral water. The tension in the crowd built with each swallow the pony took, waiting helplessly for him to talk again. Macintosh stood up and stroked him gently on the back, which they both knew would make the crowd nervous...but neither of them cared anymore. “Anyway,” the brave pony finally continued, “I was scared to tell y'all about my...condition, let's say. But I'm not scared to say I'm in a relationship with a stallion, because it's...nothing to be scared of! Certainly not compared to my situation! Hells, I love this stallion...with all my heart. Just like a spouse loves his other half. It's just...a different preference, that's all.” Even though he had heard the words several times...Mac could have died when he heard it there. He felt so free...so loved, so damn lucky to have the special somepony he did. He wasn't afraid either, not now...and never again. “Big Macintosh is just a normal pony. He works on the farm, he does favors for other ponies, he laughs, he cries...just like the rest of you, just like the rest of us. Sure he's not perfect, sure he makes mistakes...” Macintosh trembled as he looked to the left. Caramel had a sad smile on his face...which he felt himself making in return. They both held a gaze as they mouthed the words “I'm sorry”. Turning back to the crowd, the beautiful savior continued: “...but who doesn't? Nopony's perfect--” “No one.” “Oh, hush. My point is we shouldn't expect too much of him, just like we shouldn't expect too much of any one pony. And we certainly shouldn't do this. Being gay doesn't change anything about that; I would know. I'm not asking y'all to change how you think about the entire world. All I'm asking y'all is to see him...to see me...for what we really are. Not for what y'all want us to be...” Suddenly, Lyra walked in front of Caramel with Bon-Bon, the latter holding up a decidedly different sign from the others. It said “Protect Ponyville From Itself.” Everypony in the crowd either gasped or whispered about them nuzzling. “I was never sure what to call us,” started Lyra, “but I figure 'normal ponies' fits nicely. Don't you, hon?” “I do, sweetie,” answered Bon-Bon. “Although there's nothing 'normal' about you.” “N-Not now, sugar,” Lyra threatened. Looking at the four of them, the former mob was finally losing its momentum. The murmuring became disorganized and diverse. “They're right; this is ridiculous.” “I can't believe I actually made this sign.” “I can't believe he made those ribbons disappear!” “Has anyone seen Twilight and them? They seem to have run off somewhere...” “I ate candies from her store. To think all this time...” “I need to check inventory still...” “Ah love you.” “I love you, too.” “What they said.” “Oh, don't be lazy!” The mob was officially broken. The remaining ponies (apart from the upper class) were awkwardly hanging around the scene of the crime, probably trying to reconcile what just happened with who they were. But in any case, both Big Macintosh and Caramel knew that the latter wasn't done. The former stood up and unabashedly nuzzled his stallion. He was nuzzled in return. “Y'all that are left see what the others are doing? They're going back to their lives. That what y'all should do, too. We have different things to worry about, things that actually matter. Like...like where Twilight and them are? We should get a search party going!” “Yeah, where did they go? I'm starting to get worried.” “We should look north of town!” “YEAH, LET'S GO!” Mac did a double take. He was so distracted that he almost forgot his sister was missing. He decided that everything was calm again, he'd join that search party. “A-And what about this upper class/lower class deal? We need to decide just what's going to happen before it gets out of hoof!” “By jove, he speaks sense!” “I like the way he put it; maybe we really can deal with it!” “Let's show them what we're made of, hon!” “THREE CHEERS FOR PROGRESS!” Mac was reeling at what was happening. His boyfriend had just dissolved a riot into coalition for bettering Ponyville. He had the strongest feeling there was something the poor pony was good at! “WE CAN DO THIS! GO OUT AND MAKE THE WORLD A BETTER PLACE! GO OUT AND UNDO THE WRONGS OF THE PAST! WE'RE NOT ALONE, AND WE'LL NEVER GIVE UP!” “YEAH!” With that, all the congregated ponies ran off in different directions, each tasked with either assigned or personal missions. The deed was done...and the word was out. It was like waking up from a bad dream... It's over. He's here, he forgives me...an' nopony minds. Finally free to do so, Mac pulled Mel to him and laid a big, wet one on him, which quickly turned into an oral caress...which quickly turned into making out in earnest. He wanted nothing but to be permanently melded to his little miracle worker, writhing in pure bliss as the night overtook them. But eventually, Mel did pull them apart. “Um, babe?”, a breathless Caramel asked. “Yes, you magnificent, wonderful thing, you?”, Macintosh whispered huskily from underneath him. “...The rich ponies are staring at us. I love you, but can we do this later?” Freezing in place and eyes wide open, the enthusiastic pony shifted his eyes to observe the aristocrats quickly turning away from observing him and his playmate. He saw that some of them, as unexpected as it was, had deep blushes they were trying to hide (even some of the males). The others looked either disgusted or at a loss, but that was just the way, he supposed. He just grinned sheepishly at all of them as Caramel climbed off of him. “Sorry about that. We, uh...well, it's pretty obvious,” Caramel offered. Big Macintosh got up to his hooves, feeling positive that he was blushing deep enough for them to see. “Q-quite,” Fancy Pants confirmed, hiding a blush of his own. “Anyhow, I just wanted to commend you on your speech there, Mr...Caramel?” “Yes, and thank you. I just told everypony the truth, i-it was nothing special.” “Nothing special? You did it brilliantly,” he continued with an eager smile. “You really had that crowd going, and I was hanging on every word myself! You may deny it, but you have a knack for speechmaking. The last part was a bit trite, but with some training, we can fix issues like that nicely. It's so fitting in that...well, if you would permit me, I may have a solution to your 'terminal joblessness', as you put it.” “...I don't really believe you, but go on,” said Caramel, sounding confused. Macintosh laid a hoof on his poor pony's shoulder to reassure him. “I did sense a great sorrow in your words earlier...and you have my condolences. I won't pretend to understand, but it does give you a great deal of leverage in our changing times. What I'm proposing here,” said Fancy Pants before pausing, “is for you to give words of wisdom to others suffering across Equestria. Our dear Princess Celestia is far too busy to do so herself, not to mention these ponies need...a common touch.” “Beg yer pardon?”, asked Caramel and Big Macintosh in unison. “Yes, exactly! They need somepony who's dealt with hardship like your good self. And since you are...afflicted, and it pains me to see how that can even happen, it would certainly bolster those who simply need some meaningful encouragement. My friends and I would pay for your services, of course.” “...Pay?” Neither of them could believe their ears. “Ahem...yes. Come by tomorrow and we'll discuss it in detail? We can, er, replace your medal ribbons as well if you like.” “Um...”, Caramel hesitated as he looked to his partner. Mac couldn't believe he even had to ask, nodding emphatically. “Eeyup.” “Y-You've got a speechmaker, then!” “Splendid!”, cheered Fancy Pants as his friends sighed in...relief? “See you on the morrow, then!” With that, the fancy ponies cantered to their fancy homes to sleep fancily in their fancy beds. At least, that's what Mac assumed happened whenever he wasn't looking. “...I have a job.” Upon hearing the words, the realization struck Macintosh as well. They had done it. “I have a real...paying job. And it looks like I can pull it off...” Mac felt like he had just finished ploughing a field. The weight was gone, and he could take pleasure in the result. He nuzzled the employee. “Ah'm ridiculously proud o' you, babe.” “...I'm proud of me, too. I...I HAVE A JOB! I-I-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!” When he saw Caramel jumping and shouting right then, he knew he didn't need anything else. He had never seen the sweet pony that happy, ever. As much pain as he caused him, he also made him laugh at how wonderful life could be. He was done. This was his life, and he was pleased. The overeager hugging and licking was nice, too. The two of them held each other in the middle of the square until Caramel pushed himself off of Macintosh. “...He said I have a knack for speechmaking," said Caramel pensively. “...Eeyup.” This didn't sound good. “I have a job skill, and I didn't even know about it.” So whut? Ain't that whut you had been tryin' t'do before, anyway? “Eeyup.” “...But I couldn't have known about it unless I had a speech to make.” There you go. “...Nnope.” “A-And I probably just developed this skill as I kept thinking about...my life.” Mac nuzzled his stressed stallion. He wasn't too surprised that Mel apparently didn't take compliments easily. “...Ain't life funny like that? Haha!” Thank Celestia. Ah needta git off this street an' not come back fer a long while. Suddenly, he felt a tail brushing against his neck. He took a very deep breath to clear his head. “Well, then,” Caramel intoned, “it's time we got home. We've both earned some rest after today.” "Uh, actually--" "CRUD." “Eeyup.” "W-Well," Caramel insisted, "I don't mean to sound awful, but...maybe we could let them look for tonight? Tomorrow you and I will rip the earth apart if we have to." Mac stroked his chin. He felt the stubble growing on it as he weighed his options. His decision? Well...it would probably be best to look for them sooner rather than later, not to mention she was his sister, and-- Mel snickered softly. "E-Eeyup." “Good. After all...you must be exhausted after putting up with that horrible mob.” “...Eeyup...” “You must want to unwind. I know just the thing that would help! But first, I just have to know...” The scandalized pony felt like he was going to explode. The tension was unbearable...! “...E-Eeyup?!” “...Do you know anything about it?” Whut? “Whut? Ah don'...” Now he knew the blush was visible. “Oh. N-Nnope.” Caramel groaned before turning to face the farm. “Well, crud. I don't know anything either. I guess...,” the tempter suddenly drew out, “we'll just have to figure it out as we go along.” Feeling the tension break, the temptee saw his little pony walking ahead of him...and grinned the stadium grin. Today was another roller coaster...and it was time he got off.
CataclysmTwo hours after the search party for Twilight and her friends set out, the frustrated ponies had to return to Ponyville without a single one of them. No sign of them whatsoever could be found either. Even with Big Macintosh, the search continued for two days with nothing to show for it, and so the efforts for progress from all sides were disheartened. The temporary groups that had formed in the name of improving ponies' lots in life met unmanageable conflict from its own members. Shopkeepers found themselves lashing out at assistants, with or without cause; salesponies were enraged at the slightest attempt to compromise in future pricing; and any close friends of the missing six were losing themselves in their own worry. Most significantly, the preliminary talks for an amicable balance between the elite and the commoners regressed into rehashing the past for no reason other than to relive it, detail by apple-bucking detail. All involved agreed the outlook was bleak... And that was when the world around them ignited. The ground split open and twisted on itself. The skies broke apart, slipping in and out of all imaginable colors. The animals grew fierce and raved with piercing voices and claws at the ready, senseless of friend or foe. The clouds twisted into meaningless monstrosities that rained lightning and shot water wherever they pleased. Ponies found themselves pitted against friends and family in fits of insanity. It was a cosmic free-for-all, and Equestria was afraid. The spells trying to control it were merely consumed by the greedy upheaval. Not content to surrender, the unicorns funneled their strength together to keep as many buildings together as possible. Rich and poor alike huddled together in the strongest abodes and braced themselves for cruel and inexplicable end. The earth groaned and shrieked, the air thundered its demand for appeasement, and so the last unscathed ponies summoned from within themselves one desperate bid to pray for their deliverance as sudden as their catastrophe. The prayer was thrown into the howling winds as the last stronghold against despair. Death seemed to be near as the physical madness reached its peak... And then the sun rose over it all, shining its golden light to calm the world and its children. A magnificent chariot descended from the golden orb: the six prodigal ponies and Spike had returned to Ponyville with Princess Celestia. The busy ruler immediately gathered the residents to assert that, even though great forces had re-shaped their world, everything was going to be fine. The crowd gawked at the sight around her and the homecome ponies...but ultimately was mollified. They wholeheartedly shouted and cheered for the end of the end. Caramel's voice caught in his throat. It was terrifying to think about the opportunity he had...and so he discarded it. He knew she didn't have the time, anyway. The returned ponies joined the town to assess the changes: the ground was jagged and fallow, and the winds were unpredictable...but beyond that, only a few structures were demolished. Evidently, the raving of the world was intent on frightening rather than destroying its many communities...although the effects were indeed lasting. Other damages were repairable, and so the town was relaxed. It was time to resume the business of before, as well as it could be done. After the crowd dispersed, she granted the Mayor and her administration by royal decree the power to deny future business expansion to non-local entrepreneurs. Those that decided to become local would have to commit to the community of Ponyville, with all that implied. So knowing their time was up, many of the myriad businessponies sacked the scene to seek opportunity elsewhere. But in the meantime, they saw fit to organize plans for the future as they stayed trapped in the shaken valley. Some of the recent building additions to Ponyville were also ditched, whereupon the Mayor decided to temporarily house the foreign competitors for the Jubilee. After all, the messy fight Twilight and friends had to wage left the normal travel methods upheaved until order could be restored. The former rabble rousers against Big Macintosh found themselves grateful for their temporary hosts and contrite for how they were deserving of something decidedly less comfortable. The upshot of the decree was the Orange Family finally returning to Manehattan (once they were able) and dropping the claim to the acreage. Out of the kindness of her heart, Applejack agreed to keep a percentage of the orange crop, “But jus' keep in mind that they'll be grown on Sweet Apple Acres!” That having been said, they had to focus on making sure anything would grow in the dilapidated soil. Little Clementine said nothing. She just smiled and joined her parents in the Homestead building as they stayed their last days. The Apple family plus one returned to the smaller, more familiar barn they called home. The old hay reserve barn was slated to be completely rebuilt when time permitted. The water bucket was trashed. When it was time to discuss Caramel's career, he shared how his attempt to organize the rowdy ponies during the various kerfuffles shook his confidence. Not being able to contribute himself just diminished his credibility too much, which seemed like a sign of things to come. Fancy Pants, however, said he had no problem with this once all was made calm; “You just have to remind them of their own abilities!” Both him and Macintosh stipulated how important this was now that the world had changed; ponies needed themselves now more than ever. But this also meant Caramel was needed now more than ever, for several different things. So after a promising interview (and an extremely cautious signature), he was set to share his experiences with downtrodden denizens and potentially influential enterprisers across Equestria. To achieve this, he was accompanied by several unicorn guides who did their best to make the terrain navigable; but even with that, travel was painfully slow. It took fifteen minutes in one instance just to figure out how to get past a hill without getting torn to shreds. But funnily enough, it turned out that Caramel's 'talent' for breaking things down was not too big or too small to help them diminish the needles...if he was careful. He readily agreed to smooth out terrain as they went, the sight of his hooves' ironic labors splitting him between outrageously happy and weirdly depressed. It was like if a pony with a malformed face were being used to frighten away burglars. But he trod along in determination to make the most of it, a chance he never truly had before. It turned out he was the most proficient at small groups in low-key places, which worked very well for advising the refugee groups around Appleloosa, for one. Several families had been uprooted when the bulk of the working force relocated to Ponyville, leaving far too little to keep the town running. Once the stored food was swallowed by the earth, the only ponies left in Appleloosa were those too stubborn to leave or those who claimed to be able to still live there (which was mildly persuasive in that the apple saplings miraculously seemed unharmed by the cataclysm.) The worst part of it was that a good percentage of the former workforce seemed hesitant to leave... “Y'all can't give up,” he told them. “Y'all are the hardiest ponies anypony knows! You can outlast this hardship until the apples are ripe; I know you can. It's all about making the most of your environment and staying the course for that. Yes, your loved ones are gone. Yes, it shouldn't have happened...but I know firsthoof that it doesn't end there. You have to keep going and reap the fruits of your patience. “Ponyville isn't about to let you starve; we'll aid you how we can if you ask for it, and no mistake. But I can tell y'all don't want that. And why should you? Y'all raised that town out of the dirt, and it's that same dirt you'll hone with the buffalo all through the summer! Y'all won't go down now or then or whenever doubt would have you fear! T'AIN'T OVER 'TILL Y'ALL SAY IT'S OVER!” The haggered families roared with pride as they set about restoring their land. Caramel saw their eyes alight with hope once again...and was struck with inspiration. While Fancy Pants' advice seemed to work, he decided to carefully press his hooves against the more twisted plots of land. When the blackened knots diminished...the cheers he received were almost deafening. He was useful. For once in his life, ponies needed him. It was like he had dreamed his troubles away. Big Macintosh, unfortunately, had to finish reviving the fallow fields as well as assisting in the reconstruction of the ruined buildings, so he wasn't able to see Caramel bolster his cousin's hometown. Braeburn, however, did accompany the speechmaker in order to return to the community and help them endure. Plus, when he thought about it, the cause of the refugee camp wasn't something he wanted his boyfriend to witness firsthoof. The busy farm pony would just have to wait for his return...whenever that was. Next was a stark contrast: speaking at the devastated capital of the country of Paint. It was bad enough that the massive clash made air travel, teleportation, and the terrain for trains and taxi relays unsafe...but this was ground zero. What used to be a bustling international trade center bordering Equestria and Equuleus couldn't even conduct business. Fancy Pants's job for Caramel was to start the revitalization of the country on a good note. It was incredibly nerve-wracking...but that was no reason for him to give a bad speech. “This isn't just a trade center opening today,” he bellowed from behind the dais, “this is an entire country. The future of this nation – and its partners – will be determined by the actions of all of you gathered here today. So what do y'all have to do? “It's simple...create a home. It's just a matter of making your own from this mess around us. I had to make a home for myself when I had none, fighting against my inabilities day after day...but y'all have the best and the brightest on the job, and from all corners! “Ponies, griffons, dragons...what we have here is the chance to better our relationships to each other, to show the world we won't be deterred by even the earth and sky falling apart. We'll prove that Paint will venture forth in strength and harmony! So buy low, sell high, and make everywhere a better place to live!” The speech made him very visible to the movers and shakers within Equestria; Equuleus, however, was fine with their own ambassador's usual diplomatic visits. Caramel had to admit the prospect of giving business advice didn't sit well with him, so he avoided that as much as possible. He did ask Applejack for a basic picture of the workings of finance, which helped a little. Despite this, his charitable appearances were becoming fairly popular, and Fancy Pants for one was all too eager to ship him off and send the promised bits to the Apple Family. Big Macintosh counted the pay: it was enough to renovate all of their barns and stockpiles as well as finally get the hip surgery for Granny. He secretly hoped Caramel would be so gracious, as he deducted a fair sum for the room and board they gave him. Good lumber wouldn't be easy to find, after all... The rest of the speaking events were quickly becoming a blur. He talked to underprivileged ponies in major cities: “Being poor made me realize just how much I depended on others. I used to hate it, but then I realized that we all depend on each other in some way. That need for community, for companionship is something we all have, and we should never neglect it. Especially not when y'all have to fight for what you have. I can already see y'all trying to make something out of nothing in each other. You've made it this far in spite of it all; just know your strengths and keep at it. Some ponies have no idea how powerful it is to be able to do that. Y'all are special, you know? You know what it's like to be without. There's comfort in that.” He talked to disfigured and ill ponies in various hospitals: “I used to think my body hated me. No matter how I tried, there was nothing I could do to earn my keep, to just feel a little normal. But even with my situation, I now know it's not an end...just a challenge. And it's the same for you, if you accept that challenge. The love of friends, family, and even strangers is keeping y'all with us. Even if you're alone, you're not alone...just reach for hope with your best character and the strength you know you have deep inside. I'm begging you...don't give up.” And he, significantly, talked to wealthy types waffling as to how to address the new suffering around them: “They're not asking you to surrender your livelihoods for their sake...they're asking you to be amazing, wonderful ponies. They're asking for nothing short of generosity, and y'all are capable of showing them that generosity. That way, the less fortunate get to make it through another day; y'all can be satisfied in your good character, regardless of others' opinions; and y'all can confidently assert that relationship with them. It won't be a slippery slope if you don't let it be, and there's no shame in that. Just be good ponies. Don't worry about anything else.” Although it wasn't the last one he did (that being some choice words to put an end to a interregional insurrection force), the charity inspired by that speech made the organizations sponsoring it overwhelmed with bits. They were able to reduce the poverty populations across the major cities by roughly twenty percent, even if it might have been just temporary. The success allowed the speechmaker to return home for a couple of weeks to a very patient Macintosh. Caramel's motivational talks had become well-known enough that, once travel was finally completely restored, ponies from across Equestria came to Ponyville for his semi-biographical pep talk meant to liven up the usual Summer Sun Celebration. He noticed (once Mac left him alone long enough to look) that even with a large percentage of the visitor ponies returned to their true homes, the population of the town had easily tripled compared to long before. Adding a few hundred guests made the situation problematic, to put it mildly. Because of that, they had to hold it outside, but Twilight and Caramel both made a persuasive argument to use the stadium; they pointed out that it was very, very big and nopony was using it. The same coalition of colors on the day of the Cup swayed and merged with newcomers. The night sky glimmered patiently as Caramel stepped shoe by shoe up to the podium. Not being able to use electronic equipment, Twilight volunteered to magically project his voice. It was a nice change from having to throw his voice. “Hello, everypony. I'd say Good Morning, but that's just what we're waiting for.” The crowd chuckled. “It's just...awesome to see all y'all here. I mean it. It's been...good gravy, three months since I started this, and it just makes me so happy that I could have inspired so many ponies. Eeyup, I even recognize some of y'all out there. Hey, Starshine! Wait, no, if I start naming names, we'll be here 'till Nightmare Night.” The crowd laughed in earnest. “But seriously...thank you, thank you so much. Helping so many ponies across the country – and even beyond – with getting through the Shock and whatever else is incredibly satisfying for me. For so long, it seemed that nopony was able to help me: not doctors, not teachers, not my parents--” Something glinted from the corner of his eye. He couldn't help but turn his head and look. “--N-Not anypony, really. But in a funny way, being able to help all those ponies helped me. It made me realize that...that I wasn't helpless. I have so many friends who understand what it's like to deal with difficulty, and I've seen firsthoof how they all helped each other. There's always a way to make yourself useful, even if it's not ob-OB-WHOAAAAAAAA!” He had wobbled on the shoes so severely that he fell backwards. Twilight scrambled to catch him with a spell, but she was pelted by a catapulted shoe. Big Macintosh scrambled to catch him, but Caramel tumbled at high speed behind him...straight into the astroturf. Within a split second, it formed a deep crack that was already spreading. It tore the false ground in twain...then in quarters...then into pieces. A massive cloud of powder rose up from the epicenter, which pegasi frantically maneuvered to redirect skyward, lest everypony there get blinded or at the least need medical attention. The black cloud was swept away without any trouble. Everypony, especially Caramel and Macintosh, sighed a weary sigh. And that was when the stadium shifted. The now loose ground refused to hold the massive construct aloft. Everypony screamed as they hurriedly made their way to the center, most of them trying to get on top of Macintosh, much to his (and Caramel's) dismay. Twilight summoned an amazing amount of power to levitate every single pony there, apart from the pegasi; they were fazed at how their rescue efforts were rendered unnecessary. Hundreds of hovering ponies just watched as the stadium slowly sank into a massive pit. A pit made by one pony. The crowd was shaken, but unharmed and thankful they were standing far enough away from the perimeter. Macintosh was shaken and worried as to what would happen next. Caramel was shaken with a strong headache...and an undeniable terror. He got off of his boyfriend before he continued: “It's okay, I'll pay for it...hah hah...But y-y'all can see why getting past that sort of thing would be important to me.” The crowd laughed nervously. And then the murmurs started... “Let me make myself absolutely clear,” Caramel pressed, “when I say I'm not afraid of what's gonna happen next. I've seen so many overcome their troubles, and I plan to see the same for so many others. This...condition...is unfortunate like other problems we all have. Let's start fixing them on the right note! Let the Summer Sun Celebration begin!” After an unbearable pause, a few ponies started to clap...then a few more...then it spread quickly to the rest of the crowd. As much as they tried, the clapping couldn't mask what they had just witnessed; it literally couldn't be ignored. Caramel's few nightmares in his travels showed him similar travesties destroying everything he had set in motion, which he shrugged off in the confidence that he could make it past any mishaps. But after something that big actually happening...no wake-up call...no fading memories... He knew it was coming to an end. Fancy Pants came up to give his sympathies after everypony else had moved on to the celebration. He, Caramel, and Macintosh discussed how they were going to go about the next speeches. Ultimately, Caramel decided he wanted to do something low-key to minimize any damage, to his career or to the site. The other two agreed. Unfortunately for all three of them, the sight of the stadium falling to pieces spread quickly across the country and beyond. As other ponies learned of what exactly transpired, it was clear that Caramel's name carried a smear. Future arrangements for speeches were being terminated due to the guilty aversion ponies had to seeing Caramel. To put it bluntly, it was just painful to think about, and they knew they would think about it when he was there. And that just didn't make for a motivational rabble-rouser, it just didn't. Struck with sudden brilliance, Caramel decided to seek out the demolition workers that turned him down before...to see them do it again. Even when he discussed the matter with them in private, they categorically refused to take him up on his renewed offer. In fact, they were denying any assocation with him whatsoever. He later explained to an outraged Apple Family that the destruction caused was too wild to be controlled, and since there was no telling when it would happen again, it was too risky to be employable. Even though that wasn't what they told him. “We're not takin' any demo work that's evil.” Big Macintosh comforted his fallen friend as best he could. After Caramel had recovered from the shock, both he and the rest of Ponyville insisted (some not insisting nicely) that the disaster pony appeal to the Princess. After a harsh internal battle, Caramel found himself complying with the demand. On the bright side, he didn't have to try very hard to get her attention: she was waiting for him outside of the library. Princess Celestia was radiant as she examined the crestfallen pony. The hum of golden light softly tore through his ears, echoing against his skull as if pool balls were clacking every bone. She told him the condition was related to his talent, which to her credit he didn't even consider. But other than that, she told him what those doctors told him several times: there was nothing she could do. It was clear she was disappointed in her prognosis...but even if she weren't, Caramel would not have been angry with her. He was done being angry. He was done, period. Fancy Pants sadly agreed to end their contract and allow Caramel to remain in Ponyville without an agenda. It was clear there was no way they could overcome the circumstance. He recommended that the former speechmaker take the small fortune he had amassed and spend it conservatively. Caramel didn't feel like spending a single bit of it, apart from helping the Apple Family. Big Macintosh had to be goaded by his family members to take a small portion of it for necessary improvements, even though what he really wanted to do was stow it away with Caramel and never look at it. Seemingly at a loss for any word of comfort, Fancy Pants gave Caramel the restored medals with a sad smile. The ribbons were smaller than before. Caramel had Macintosh take them, not wanting to ruin a parting gift from his employer. Mac and Mel spend a few days together, lying next to each other quietly, playing shoes, nuzzling, playing shoes, napping, playing shoes...It was the most beautiful lie they created together, to sit in the summer sunlight in a dream of no responsibility. They wanted that dream to last. They wanted to do anything if it meant not submitting to what they knew they had to do. It was the only thing they could do; they wouldn't let themselves escape it. Caramel stood up on the last of those days, and the dream ended. And so everything slowly returned to how it was before: the two stallions had to find a way to deal with Caramel's complete inability to work, with professional help being worthless. They had exactly one lead, and they had only a vague idea of how to pursue it yet. Everypony else was content to leave them to their experiments, not wanting to witness just how crippling the condition made the pony that used to inspire them so much. At least a good field was available, and Applejack and her friends were there, too. But throughout the entire collapse of his career, Caramel kept turning back to that day when it ended. He could have sworn he saw a hammer and nail cutie mark in the crowd. But it might as well have melted into the fading dream.
HorseCelestia's sun slowly rose behind the valley walls, coating the sky in a gentle rose palette. Rousing groggily from their sleepy haze, all the creatures big and small ventured into the fray to push themselves into the timeless momentum each day demanded. A few apple trees began to bear their sweet fruit, yet the time for harvest was still too soon. A dry, cool breeze belied the dew still heavy on each blade of grass. A moment in the day so measured and relaxed could only mean one thing: Frustration. Caramel squinted at the sun's rays tickling his closed eyes. He opened them. Regretting it instantly, he turned over to snuggle the big red lug next to him. Any second more like this would be worth putting off the hellish chore the both of them had to perform. Why couldn't he just stay like this, embracing the one pony who made his life bearable? Each light snore that shook his body was appreciated much more than just a funny quirk at that moment frozen in time. Big Macintosh snorted. Well, so much for peaceful slumber. Caramel groaned to himself. “Oh, hells...come on, get up, Mac.” As he understood it, Big Macintosh usually woke himself up before Caramel started living with him. Now the sleepy pony was content to use the other, lighter sleeper as his alarm clock. Hard worker or not, it was steadily becoming annoying. All that drivel about being in love with every single flaw a pony's special somepony had seemed to be just that. “Hey.” He nudged his boyfriend. “Boyfriend. Up and at 'em. I wanna get some food in me and get started, and without you there, it's kind of pointless.” Big Macintosh shifted a little on his side of the bed, smacking his lips. Just the sound of it made Caramel shudder. Focus...you can kill him later. “You'll get to play with the haaaaaay baleeeeeeeees...”, he sang. “I mean, you never do, but you can do it thiiiiiis tiiiiiiime...” He felt Mac's tail flick against him, but still nothing. He leaned in to speak directly in the pony's ear. “Get up before I shove you off the bed.” Smack, smack, smack. The idea was genuinely compelling to him now. Maybe then Mac would keep his mouth shut. He pushed both hooves on Big Macintosh's big back, straining to move him. Nothing. He grunted and cursed as he tried again. Not one inch. Desperately, he planted his hooves on the bed and used his head to budge the suddenly much larger and heavier pony. After fifteen seconds of spectacular effort, he just gave up and tried to catch his breath. “Did Granny...feed you steel...when you were...a foal?” As if hearing him, Caramel heard Immobile Macintosh chuckle in his sleep. He was ready to use everything ounce of strength he had to put the treacherous pony in his place. But suddenly, the door to the room flung open, making both of them start. “Both y'all git up right now! Ah want you two out there and outta this room today!” Sleepy Macintosh slowly sat up in the bed with Caramel and rubbed his eyes. The latter wondered just how little processing was going on in the stallion's head. He had to admit that flaw was cute...if for no other reason than its entertainment value. His rumbling morning voice had its charm as well. “...Whut now?” Applejack sighed before explaining: “Ah'm sick o' this wallowin' you two have been doin' for the past couple o' days. Ah know it's frustratin' to deal with it all, but it hasta be done! Now come on down and get yer breakfast.” She almost walked completely out of sight before she returned with a sheepish face. “Oh, an' Twilight will be joinin' you today. Ah'm not sure whut she plans t'do, but jus' humor her, okay?” After she trotted away, the two wallowers shared a conversation in a glance. Today was going to be memorable for a reason they couldn't divine, it just had to be. Mac yawned big and low enough to make some of the floorboards rattle. “Um...mornin'.” “...Morning. Sleep well?” “Eeyup...sorta.” Caramel saw him rub his back. As guilty as it made him feel, the motion itself drew attention to how well Mac was...proportioned. It was a nice perk that he had enjoyed more than once in places far, far away from Applebloom; in times of comfort and voluntary oblivion; in ways they continually invented each time... He felt itchy. Unfortunately. “Good, good...I guess we should get going.” “Eeyup.” “I'll get the shoes, you get the hay? After breakfast, obviously.” “Eeyup.” “...You going to start talking to me again? It's like your vocabulary shriveled up over the summer.” Mac pulled Mel in close and kissed him, morning breath and all. Mel hoped it wasn't too repulsive; then again, it wasn't ever before. And then again, as the kiss deepened, it was clear how meaningless it was. Who cared if a pony's breath was rank when said pony was caressing the other so thoroughly, so gently? He was completely awake by the time they parted. “Um...I guess some things don't need to be said.” Mac smiled, his eyes alight and engaged. He got a small lick under his chin. “Nnope!” Reluctantly, both of them got off the bed, went through the morning ritual side by side, and made to go downstairs as demanded. Before walking out the doorframe, Macintosh winced loudly and sat down to rub his back. Caramel tried to attend to his boyfriend before said boyfriend suddenly stopped and looked at him, with an accusing glance. He suppressed his thoughts and looked at the window. “...I tossed and turned a little.” Caramel lazily twirled a yellow shoe around his front right hoof, tossing a blue one from his tail aimlessly across the fallow field they were using for that day. He was forcing himself to keep trying at this, as much as it drained him. Macintosh would bring the rest of the hay bales over; Macintosh would watch him ruin the bales with no progress being made, no insight gained. He knew nothing would change, and why would it? That was his lot in life. Smile, Caramel, just smile. The one clue they got from the Princess just seemed to mock him. The only way they knew to go about it was to have them in the area when they experimented. Shoe tricks while laboring just sounded ridiculous. But then again, by this point, he would try all of them backwards just to learn something to make it all less terrible. “It's a nice day today, isn't it?” Caramel came to his senses at the sound of Twilight's voice. He hoped she could do something about...well, him. But he wasn't in the mood for small talk. “Sure.” Twilight frowned, then continued scribbling on her clipboard. The tired pony spotted Mac toting the damn bales over to him from the renovated barn, made possible by the money he accrued when he still had a job. The Apples had to rebuild it from the foundation: new wood, new red and white paint, new supporting structures, new everything. It looked gorgeous from where he stood, mostly because it contrasted so nicely with the dried, cracked mud of the field right next to it. His old shelter was a real barn now. BAM! BAM! BAM! Mac really seemed to like chucking the bales dangerously close to him. Maybe the big lug was trying to tell him something...? “Alright,” Twilight said as she looked up to both of them. “let's get started. I don't need to see you disintegrate a bale normally, Caramel; your description told me enough. But I'd like to try something specific with the shoes here.” Wait, she had a plan? A real one? Caramel's legs felt slightly lighter suddenly. Big Macintosh said nothing. “Okay, shoot,” said Caramel. “Take that one next to you and push on a bale with it. Do it slowly so I can see what happens, if you would please,” she ordered with an eager smile. Doing as told, the now optimistic pony picked up the silver-colored shoe and walked over to the square bale on his right. He placed the shoe between his hoof and the tightly packed hay, focusing his gaze purely on both. He pushed ever so slightly... I can do this. This could really be the answer...! ...then a little more... You're not actually sinking, it's just nerves. Come on, come on...! ...then a little more... Oh geez oh pony this is so nervewracking don't fall apart don't fall apart please! ...until he cleared a few inches in front of him. The bale moved as one unit. He did it. He was free. “...I did it. I-I DID IT! I REALLY DID IT! I ACTUALLY MOVED A DAMN BALE WITHOUT KILLING IT! HAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAA!” He leapt backwards into the air for a somersault, loving the rush of wind against his whole body... ...when he landed into a shallow basin that wasn't there before. It wasn't just any basin...it was huge and filled with grey, sandlike powder. It must have formed behind him as he pushed. Instantly, he was reminded of when he discovered his affliction as a foal. Little Macintosh was shaking the more stubborn apples out of the trees, and so he decided to mimick him. He pressed all his measly strength into the bark for a good shake...but he couldn't even budge it. He took a deep breath and just smiled. But when he looked down, he saw a grey patch of shredded grass and dirt beneath him. Horrified, he quickly covered it up with fresh dirt, which thankfully stayed fresh. He ran home to tell his mother. He did it. But he wasn't free. Of course he wasn't. “...Mel?” Mel looked around him. The hay bale stood silently over the edge of his 'accomplishment'. His boyfriend looked completely floored, and even Twilight had stopped scribbling to gape at the gaping hole. He hated their faces. “...Well, that's a 'grey' way to start,” he joked. They didn't laugh. He wanted to believe that was because it was a bad joke. “That...”, Twilight spoke in a tiny voice, “...was remarkable. It has to be twenty yards wide! This could mean your condition has directional properties, depending on--” “Twilight?” “Not now, I need to--” “Just stop.” Both of their faces slowly turned worried. He resisted the urge to plant his own into the dust just so he couldn't look at them. He settled for sitting in the dust instead. “Mel, let her help you. If'n whut she says--” “Mac, I can't do it,” said Caramel. “Not when stuff like this can happen. I don't want to...to decimate your farm...” He swallowed. “W-We gotta git past this,” Mac pressed. “Just do the same with all yer hooves, an' that should do it...right?” Twilight scribbled some before saying: “I...believe so! Yes! That should do the trick!” That was the single stupidest thing he had heard all day. “All four?! Are you two crazy?! The only way that would work is if I affixed the shoes to...” “...to...my hooves...” Of course. Why did nopony else think of it? Of course it was that simple. It had to be. It. Had. To. Be. He had to open his big mouth. “Miss Sparkle, Ah think you should leave.” “What?!”, Twilight complained. “But we're so close to--” “GIT OUTTA HERE!” Big Macintosh stared the curious mare down, making sure she didn't sneak her way back. What he wanted to say wasn't for anypony but himself and Caramel. Neither of them needed this sort of thing to be spread around town. As far as he was concerned, however, it was going to stop here. Caramel walked out of the depression in the field as he asked: “So why did you bark at her to leave? I mean, I'm guessing you had good reason for it, but--” “Yer not doin' it.” As he expected, the misguided stallion was confused. He was usually charmed by that confused face, but not now, not for this. “What? You mean shoe myself, right? Not something weird you just thought up?” Exasperated, he answered: “Why the hells would Ah mean somethin' else? Of course Ah mean you cain't shoe yerself. An' that's non-negotiable.” As he also expected, Caramel looked like he was ready to rip off his face. If he had to fight for his mandate, then so be it. He would win. “...Assuming that it would work, you have no right to deny me and you know it.” Here we go. “First of all,” he said with his chest puffed, “that's a mighty big 'assumin' there, babe. Second of all, Ah don' recall havin' no say in whut you do with yer life at all. And third of all...Ah said yer not doin' it, so yer not doin' it.” Caramel looked dumbfounded...but this was nowhere near the end. Not even close. “...Okay,” his defiant little colt grunted through clenched teeth, “then let me ask you something, Mr. Doesn't Understand Free Will: why the hells cain't Ah do it?” “Two reasons,” Macintosh illustrated with two shoes next to him, pointing to one after another. “One: yer not a horse. Two: YER NOT A DAMN HORSE.” “OH REALLY?!”, Caramel threw back, getting a shoe to twirl as he spoke. “That's really funny, then, seeing as my talent is HORSE-shoes. I guess I'm just a mindless wannabe.” “Shoes,” he insisted. “An' nopony wants t'be a horse. Those days are long gone, an' good riddance.” “...Mac. Call them what they are. Horseshoes. To be honest, I don't know why ponies don't call them that anyway.” He couldn't believe what he was hearing. “After all, it's not like--” “Are you SERIOUS?! Didja just SLEEP durin' yer school days?!” “I flunked. Remember? You were there when I attended my last day.” Mac flustered at the thought. He did flunk, didn't he? That just fit the situation so perfectly. “...Ah thought that wuz you switchin' t'homeschoolin',” he suggested anyway. “...In a way,” Caramel offered. “My dad took me out to investigate my condition and start me in job hunts. He sorta taught me then.” Caramel, Caramel, Caramel...what all has that pony done t'you? “...So I guess I should just ask then: what exactly is a horse, anyway?” “Now why in Equestria are you askin'...WHUT IN TARNATION?!” Applejack stopped in front of the gaping hole in the middle of the fallow field, eyes as wide as they could go. A few horseshoes dotted the perimeter and the inside. “...If'n this is normal fer you, Caramel, Ah don' really want you researchin' on mah farm. Land sakes...literally.” Despite how it probably appeared to his boyfriend, Macintosh knew this was the perfect opportunity. History lessons were always better with a personal touch, after all. “Caramel...”, he drawled, “wants t'shoe himself. He thinks it's a good idea.” His sister made no expression at the news, but instead started scanning the sky. “Keep in mind he missed some schoolin',” Mac commented. “But...you know.” “...AJ?”, the clueless pony questioned anxiously. “Whaddya think?” Applejack kept examining the sky. “Um...what are you doing, exactly?” She looked straight at Caramel and said: “Looking for hordes of ancient pegasi warriors. Looks like they didn't get the memo.” Mac made a point of laughing at the joke; it rumbled richly and obnoxiously, carrying all across the ruined field. Mel looked miserable as his ears drooped...but dammit, it was for his own good. “Okay, okay...I take it 'shoeing' has a reputation I didn't know about, and it has to do with what a horse is.” “Eeyup,” both brother and sister confirmed. “And that means a horse is probably some...Earth Pony warrior from ancient times.” “Eeyup.” “...Actually, just a pony warrior in general,” AJ clarified. “Okay. Sooooooo me getting shod would be like...a declaration of war, even though nopony's fighting.” “Well, whut you missed in school, you make up fer in smarts,” said Applejack. As Caramel's misery deepened, Mac couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret. The poor pony really didn't know any of this, but he needed to make the correct impression. If he didn't... “So what?”, said Caramel. ...Whut? “I mean, it's not like we're in a war right now.” Whut?! “And I'm sure ponies would be understanding, since it's an old ritual anyway.” WHUT?! “So history or no history, I don't see--” “HOW CAN YOU...Ah mean,” Macintosh forced out, “Ah think yer bein' too nonchalant 'bout this. AJ, back me up here.” AJ looked conflicted. Why did she look conflicted? What conflict could there possibly be? “Well, when he puts it that way...Ah dunno, big brother.” Ah have no sister. Well, 'cept for Applebloom. “Ah do,” Big Macintosh insisted. “You shoe yerself an' we'll all have ponies losin' their minds like in the cataclysm. These things are weapons when they're lodged in hooves. You know how strong Ah am now?” Caramel didn't seem concerned. Mac could pull houses by hopping, and Caramel didn't seem concerned. He was beginning to feel the little pony had spent too much time with him. “Yeah, what of it?”, said Caramel. “Imagine if'n Ah had metal on mah hooves," said Macintosh. "Ah could easily kill a pony with that.” “Shoot...,” Applejack interjected, “not even a kick. Jus' a vague gesture would do th' trick. Them shoes were hung back in th' day as good luck charms fer battles. Now, they're jus' decorative or tossed 'round. Ah think even th' royal guards ain't shod jus' t'prevent any mishaps.” Mac nodded. “You shoe yerself,” he reiterated, “an' yer actions could be deadly fer somepony.” Now Caramel just seemed confused, scratching his chin in what Mac hoped was thought on how shoeing was wrong. But he had a feeling the fight wasn't finished. “Well, you'd kill a pony because you're HUGE. I mean, come on. What would it really matter if I did it?”, the little pony objected with a laugh. “I'm just a regular stallion, nothing that special.” “Even a little colt like you could be a weapon with those,” Macintosh elaborated. Right then, he imagined Caramel buying food in the town market, when he would innocently stick his hooves out trying to reach his purchase and knock some poor sap unconscious. “...I don't really buy that.” “It's true, an' yer gonna hafta trust me. It's a hard fact Ah don' wanna prove.” “Well...”, a stubborn Mel continued, “I'll just be careful. Even if I mess up, it's not like I have giant hooves to bore anypony, right?” “An' that's the other problem,” he rebutted bitterly. It was the last thing he wanted to imagine...but Mel just wouldn't quit. He closed the distance between them and picked up one of the pony's hooves, pressing it against one of his own. He had to fight the silliest urge to nuzzle him, as infuriating as it was. “Oh?”, Caramel said with audible unease. “W-Whaddya mean by this?” “Look at yer hoof...then look at mine. See the problem?” He watched his colt examine both hooves, looking none the wiser afterward. How could he not notice? “Where is there a problem?” “Yer sole's bare,” he answered anyway. “Mine's got a wall here as you can see. If'n Ah got shod, it'd be fine...maybe a little tingly. But you'd be shoving nails into yer legs, Caramel. Didja think 'bout that at all?” “Oh, heavens t'Betsy, Ah didn't even think 'bout that!”, AJ commented. “S-Shoot, jus' th' thought of it...Caramel, you'd be nothin' short' o' crazy t'do that! Most ponies would, really, since only a few still have that part o' the hoof. Ah reckon some ponies jus' stopped comin' with 'em after it stopped.” “Ah'm not even sure it could be done without breakin' yer bones, babe. So...all that's why you cain't shoe yerself.” After he said that, however, it suddenly sounded slightly hollow to him. But why would it? Nothing he had said was false. Just to be safe, he brushed Mel's hair a little to remind the pony of his intent. Caramel's face was neutral now. Mac knew his mare made that face when she was about to rip his argument to shreds. He was ready for whatever she had to throw at him, even if it took all day to debunk. He was not going to lose this. “All I have to say to that,” the stubborn pony started with a gesture to the crater, “is this.” As Caramel said it, a gust of wind picked up some of the dust in the basin and swept it off to some strange corner of the world. The hole looked even bigger now. Mac sat down and cradled his face in his hooves. He hated this. He hated this so very much. “I try not to complain about my condition. Really I do. But the fact that I'm capable of this is so awful sometimes I can't breathe. And you know...? Something just occurred to me.” Macintosh just sat there silently, too anxious to ask what Caramel meant. “...This pit happened when we had a few horseshoes around. At the stadium, we had dozens of them. My curse is directly affected by these, it has to be. A-And I know full well the shoes themselves don't make the problem when I use them. So...it's the only real solution. It has to be.” “...Nnope.” “I have to shoe myself to keep whatever this is...contained.” “Nnope.” He exaggerated standing up and pressing his face to Mel's. Mel pushed back as defiantly as the last time. “Mac, you just stop it. This is my decision. I wasn't kidding when I said you have no right to stop me.” Off toward the apple trees, Mac heard hoofsteps headed away from the site. “Nnope!” Caramel looked ready to attack him as he blocked the pony from leaving. It was all he had left. “Now, big brother, jus' calm down...,” his sister objected from somewhere in the distance. “Yeah, if you'd stop being a JERK for one second, then you'd SEE why I need to--” “NO, CARAMEL!” The ground trembled as he stomped it. “AH SAID NO! YER NOT DOIN' IT, AN' THAT'S THAT!” The little stallion was speechless. Good. It was time for this to end. “...Ah'll pin you down if Ah hafta. An' you don' want me t'do that, trust me.” His brain was on fire. This was wrong. Everything he was doing was wrong, but he had no choice. Caramel couldn't go and do that to himself...to him. “...Do it.” ...Oh, no. Mac couldn't escape the dead-eyed expression Mel was giving him. That was the ugliest Mel had ever looked, even as the pony laid down in front of him like so many times before. “Go ahead and pin me down. I don't care. It's nothing you haven't done before, anyway.” “Ah'm gonna go now. I-It's clear Ah'm not needed,” Applejack announced as she galloped away. He glared at the traitor, making her run away faster. “Goodbye, Applejack. Or...,” Mel teased darkly, “should I say goodbye to everypony? It's up to you. If I can't get this because you won't let me...” Don' say it. Don' you dare say it. “...Then I might as well be dead.” You little...! “I'm ready to fight for this, babe. I have plenty of weapons at my disposal. Come on. Let's do this.” He stood purposefully over Caramel, staring down the reckless pony. “...Yer not doin' it.” “Not doing what? Not getting shod, or not getting...not getting...oh, pony, what am I doing?” There's mah babe. Welcome back. “I...I just...I just want out. I want out of this; it's all I've ever wanted. I-I don't...think that's unreasonable...!” In an instant, tears started to flow down Mel's face. Big Macintosh felt his purpose crumble before him. His might was gone, his voice was weak, his eyes burned, and he just felt meek. The sight of this silly pony in the grips of despair...it just wasn't right. He bent down to be the comforter he wanted to be. ...Oh, pony, what have Ah done? Caramel...oh, mah sweet baby, why cain't Ah fix you? Why am Ah so helpless?! “Mel, baby, please...” he soothed as he embraced him. “Ah jus' don' want you to hurt yerself like that. I mean, if'n it didn't work...you'd be stuck with it. You'd be stuck with ponies bein' afraid o' you and you bein' afraid o' yerself. Ah don' want that fer you, you gotta believe me...” Caramel sniffled. “I...I get that,” the tragic pony said weakly. “I don't get why you won't let me do it. It's the only way and you know it!”, he finished with an angry crescendo. “Mel...” “I'm...I'm begging you, Mac. Please...let me do this. If it doesn't work – even though it will...then that'll be my problem.” If'n it were only that simple...Ah shoulda just offered t'support him mahself. Too late now, with how he's actin'. “It'd be mah problem, too, babe,” he corrected. “Ah'd...Ah'll...” ...Ah cain't believe Ah'm doin' this. Dammit, you play me like a fiddle without even tryin', Caramel. “Oh, damn it to the six hells.” Caramel's eyes widened. “You mean...?!” “...It's not worth makin' you miserable t'keep you from doin' it,” he conceded. “So...so you can...*sigh* you can go on an' hammer nails in yer hooves if'n it makes you happy.” Ah'll never forgive mahself fer this, will Ah? His introspection was quickly cut off by Mel's thankful tongue. Each generous lick suspended his misery just a little...until he shared his own tongue in a blissful caress. Mac found himself hoping that if he kept Mel there long enough in the kiss, eventually all the ponies willing to shoe him would die so he could relax. Or if they weren't dead, he could just...displace them in convenient locations, slip them some bits to keep them quiet. And if that didn't work... ...When did Ah start havin' evil thoughts? T'ain't like me—oh yeah, right there...If'n every argument ended like this, horses wouldn't even have existed. The two parted far too soon. Caramel had that gentle fire in his eyes again, thank Celestia. “Well then,” his colt began, “I have some letters to write. I know a few doctors that would probably do it--” Oh really? Whut are their names? Really, Ah'd like t'know... ...Dammit, stop that, Macintosh. “--and they should really read it from me. It'll be a coin toss, sure, but it'll be worth it.” Macintosh flashed to a scenario of Mel beside himself with grief in front of a shredded pile of drafts. If that's what the pony wanted...sheesh. He felt itchy. “Mmhmm.” “Hey, come on”, Mel soothed. “It's all gonna be okay. I promise. Now let's get outta this field.” Mac snorted as he pulled Mel up slowly. He was doing everything in his power to fight off the image of the sweet pony at the mercy of some deranged practitioner, shoving in nail by nail. He refused to believe it really came down to that...but there wasn't anything he could do. Baby, it's gonna hurt...in more ways than one. Ah sure hope yer right. Twilight analyzed her data for the fifth time, absolutely convinced of what it meant and what she had to do. Horseshoes and disintegration...the Princess had to know about this.
PatientDear Dr. Cardio, I want to see if it's possible for me to be shod in your office. I know how that sounds, but it'll be fine if you look at your data on me, I think you'll agree it just makes sense it's the only option. I'm enclosing my hoof measurements in case you agree. I'm fully capable of paying extra if the process... “...Dammit!” Caramel threw another shredded and smeared draft into the trash. “Watch yer mouth!”, said Applebloom. Caramel grinned sheepishly. “Sorry...wait. When did you learn that word?” Applebloom blushed, ducking out of the room. After a few dozen tries, Caramel finally managed to write the three request letters to the three doctors he suspected would perform the surgery-ritual-whatsit. It became a lot easier once he finished the first one: he just had to apply the same pressure two more times...or twenty. He had to rush Macintosh out of the room to make sure the pony didn't try to help; it was important to him to write his own letters for once. After a wearisome persuasion, he did convince Big Macintosh to deliver the sealed envelopes to the mailbox to avoid any further possible mishaps; the grumpy pony only did so after a long, hard stare to try and make Mel regret what he was going to do. Fat chance of that. The Apple Family waited a long, tense three days time for the response. In the meantime, the other members besides Mac decided to weigh in on the decision. On the second day after breakfast, the others pulled him aside. “Now Ah wouldn't've tolerated any o' this nonsense from mah dear Appletree when she wuz still here,” started Granny Smith, “but it's clear as sky this ain't just some dim-witted impulse t'look like some rough an' tumble warrior. Ah don' like it, let me make that clear: Ah don' like it one bit. But nopony should live with what you've had t'suffer, Mel. Ah reckon this is one o' 'em 'necessary evils'. So you jus' make sure yer not dealin' with some quack, an' come back in one piece,” she finished with a cautionary eyebrow raise. Mel was floored. That old biddy had made a better speech in thirty seconds than any of his over three months. And she called him 'Mel'...Life was a little brighter just then. Mac seemed to be furiously debating himself, if the pony's face was any indication. “Oh, no offense, Quincy.” “QUACK!” Caramel looked to his family: they seemed to recognize the quack as Quincy taking it in stride. He watched the duck waddle off toward the lake again. Applebloom had some trouble understanding what was at stake, but she seemed to accept the gravity of it all once broken bones were mentioned. She seemed speechless by herself...but then her two friends ran in from behind the open window and decided to give their opinions. “I don't know if it's worth hurting yourself, mister,” said Sweetie Belle. Mac smiled at the filly. Of course he would, the turkey. No offense intended to Terrence, obviously. “So...you'll be shoving nails into your bare hooves to stop ruining things and be stronger?” Caramel himed and hawed at the question before answering: “More or less.” Scootaloo frowned. She seemed ill at ease at the concept...until: “That is just too cool! Only a pony like Rainbow Dash would dare to do that. I can't wait to see how it turns out!” Slightly unnerved, Caramel just smiled and turned to Applebloom. The filly looked highly conflicted. Like brother, like sister, it seemed. “Mel?” Mel had to keep himself from grinning like a madpony. “Yes, Applebloom?” “Are you gonna be okay, after this? 'Zit, you know...gonna backfire or somethin'?” Everypony else in the room looked to him. He knew exactly what to say, though. “It very well might, I dunno,” he said with a smile. “But that's okay. I need to try, and if it doesn't work, then we'll just try something else. But to be perfectly honest--” Mac cleared his throat very loudly. “...I would say you don't have to worry about it,” he finished with a glare to his boyfriend. Mac grimaced, looking askance to the open window. Who knew what that devilish lug was thinking, really? That devilish...handsome lug. Ahem. Applebloom frowned a little. That filly wasn't going to be satisfied on a maybe, it seemed; he'd have to remember that. Mel decided to whisper in her ear: “I was just being modest; it's going to work, and that's the truth.” Applebloom smiled. Mac sighed. Granny Smith seemed confused. “Well, Ah'll be honest,” said Applejack, “Ah dunno how Ah feel 'bout this. It's right on th' cusp o' evil an' good, if'n you ask me. All Ah'm gonna say is...it had better work.” “...Eeyup,” said Caramel. The entire room lapsed into an uncomfortably long awkward silence. “...Well, I dunno about y'all, but that shoe pile outside ain't gonna do tricks on itself.” On the third day, Caramel and Big Macintosh out to check the mail with a touch of anxiety. Despite their disagreement on the issue, the latter begrudgingly admitted to the former that getting refused on the matter would be disheartening; but only because Mac couldn't think of any other possible solution at the time. They didn't talk on the way. They saw the mailbox: the flag was up. Both ponies sighed, but for different reasons. “It's about time,” said Caramel. “Three days should never feel that long.” “...Nnope.” Mel knew too well that his lover wanted them to be even longer. But he also knew if that happened, then he would have to punish the worrisome pony for slowing down time itself. At least Mac didn't refuse to check the letters once they were here; accidental shredding was one risk neither of them were willing to take. Mac opened the mailbox and took out two thin envelopes...and one big one. “Looks like we have a winner there!” “...Eeyup.” “You fought a good fight, guy,” Caramel soothed sarcastically. “Now let's see what...Cardio has to say!” Caramel watched as Macintosh opened the envelope: the grouch couldn't have done it more reluctantly if he tried, each agonizing inch of tearing showing on his face. As long as Mac didn't ruin the letter, Mel would let him be as melodramatic as he wanted. Ten pages were inside, most of it looking like medical information. He watched Mac peruse the first two pages, his brow furrowing with each second. “...Well, come on, what's it say?”, Caramel pressed. Mac looked up from the pages, staring straight to the horizon. He had the most magnificent pout as he extended his hoof to make them visible to Mel. “...Uh huh...oh, that's great! I didn't count on him doing it for free!” Mac groaned softly. “Oh, get over yourself. Let's see...hmm...oh. That's not good. No, t-that's not good at all.” “Nnope.” “...Well, it's not gonna stop me.” Mac sighed and deeply bowed his head. Then he pulled himself back up, clearly fighting the temptation to just flop onto the ground. “...Yikes. I'm glad he could get custom horseshoes. I didn't even know he knew my skeletal structure enough to do that.” “...Shoes,” grunted Mac. “Horseshoes.” “Shoes.” “...Anyway. So we just need to leave for Canterlot tomorrow morning, get there by 1:00, and come home with shiny new hooves! Can't wait!” Big Macintosh did flop on the ground with a loud groan after Mel finished, dropping the papers behind him in the dirt path. Mel had to jump sharply to his right to avoid disintegrating the letter. He ended up stumbling right on top of his stud. Mac felt extremely tense. Mel rubbed the grouch's shoulders, getting a weary chuckle in return. “But seriously, Mac...thank you,” he said as sweetly as he could. “For putting up with this. It really, really means a lot to me.” He nuzzled him. Mac turned his head and nuzzled Mel in return...very thoroughly. “Eeyup.” “I...really, really love you.” “Heh heh, eeyup.” “T-This is big of you t-to do...!” Mel started panting. Mac nuzzled even more slowly. “Eeyup!” “You're the o-only one I'd...okay, you're making it hard f-for me to massage you.” Mac chuckled richly, licking under Mel's chin. “Ah bet.” Mel felt the need to sit down before his knees became too weak. “O-Okay, I'll just...um...oh, screw it.” He collapsed on top of Mac purposefully. “EEEEEEEEEEEEEK!” “GAH!” Caramel rolled off of Big Macintosh at the sound of the shriek. Some mare they couldn't see (her voice suggested she was probably Lily) in their haphazard state galloped away. Mel blushed at the realization of what he was ready to do in front of anypony. Even though their relationship had been public for months, it seemed open displays of affection were still shocking. It annoyed the two of them, but they knew such displays by anyponies were only tolerated on certain times of the year like Hearts and Hooves Day, so it was just as well. They had more important things to worry about, anyway. “Um...we should go back and start planning,” said Mel as he got up. Mac stood up himself before responding: “Eeyup...wait.” “Huh?” “You were massaging me,” Mac explained. “Why couldn't you--” “Oh,” Mel answered. “They were wearing towels.” “Whut?”, asked Mac as he stowed the letter in his saddlebag. “...Don't ask.” Mac looked completely bewildered...then started a gentle bellylaugh. Mel felt himself smiling in embarrassment. “Let's just say those mares won't look at me the same way again.” Mac reared his head back as he laughed even harder. His voice rumbled all around them, and then Mel wasn't quite as embarrassed. “...It wouldn't have been so bad if I didn't massage the lower bits.” “OHOHOHOHOHO! O-Oh, that's bad, Mel. Ah'm s-sorry you hadta-AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAA! So t-that's why after showers you made me towel you off-FFFFFFFFFF-HEHEHEHEHEHE!” Mel blushed, but he was still smiling. “Well, it's not like you were unwilling.” “HAHAhaha...true. Ah just...just wanted t'MASSAGE YA-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Now that he thought about it, he had never seen Mac laugh that hard at anything. And considering what would happen tomorrow...he decided to just let him laugh. Caramel, Big Macintosh, and Applejack had been in a blur all through the train ride. The only thoughts on their minds were how the other Apple sibling could be there – because the acreage could be idle for one day with no real consequences – why she decided to be there – because she felt her brother and her friend could use the support – and how telling it was for the last few months' events that Caramel did not have to explain himself for sitting alone in the middle of the aisle. Apart from that, they didn't want to think about anything else. Ponies kept saying how Canterlot looked different every year; but even as Caramel and Applejack looked at it, it looked the same as the last time they were there. Sure, there wasn't a red carpet at the gate, but fancy ponies were still fancy, pretty buildings were still pretty...did cities ever actually change? Big Macintosh just took in the sight himself. Caramel thought it was like watching a big dog doing the same thing. The blur still steeped in their minds guided them to the office in question: curiously low-key for Canterlot. In fact, it was very modest in comparison to the buildings surrounding it, having only two stories. But Caramel knew it was the right place; he had been taken there enough times, and the letter he sent got a reply, so the address he had must not have changed. The three of them entered as the blur on their minds was quickly blown into the ether, and was soon replaced with an unbearable anticipation. The office on the inside looked similar to the general practitioner's office back in Ponyville (who was one of the letter recipients, who also categorically refused to shoe anypony whatsoever). The lobby was reasonably accommodating for the moderate number of ponies the Apples suspected – and Caramel knew – came for medical attention. No quirky/artsy arrangement of chairs, no fashion statements for the walls or ceiling or anything, no conceited aroma, no overdressed reception ponies, no help ponies serving drinks, no ponies... No ponies whatsoever. The office was void of all life, apart from the three of them and a fern in the far left corner. They stepped forward warily, sharing the muted fear of a trap... Suddenly, the one door to their right started humming. They looked to see it enveloped in a pale blue glow, opening to reveal a middle-aged, white Unicorn in a lab coat. The red and blue hairs of his mane twisted around each other in a natural second ponytail, although it was all slightly frazzled. He looked ridiculously stressed...but he smiled that smile made for comforting others. “I thought I heard hoofsteps,” Dr. Cardio greeted. “It's nice to see you again, Caramel. You can come on back whenever you like.” “Um...”, stalled the three, looking around them. “Oh, I cleared the clinic for today. I figured random patients didn't need to see what's going to happen here, and as for my receptionist, I just wanted a day away from her for once, haha! I'm sure...well, anyway, follow me.” The good doctor waved for them to go with him down the hallway and to the third door on the right. The four of them walked into a simple check-up room: cabinets, tongue depressors in a jar, butcher paper on a doctor's table, and so on. No tools for shoeing were apparent. “Now I know what you're thinking,” offered Dr. Cardio, “but this is just next door to where it'll happen. We'll discuss it first in here.” The other three looked to their left: a wooden door with a sign, with the words 'OPERATING ROOM', waited for Caramel. The room suddenly felt much warmer than before. The patient sat on the doctor's table without a word. “Caramel, Caramel, Caramel...” the doctor began as he levitated a clipboard to himself, “you've always been a head-scratcher. But your letter got me thinking about that old ritual, and I talked with your other examiners. We all agree it's the most probable solution--” Mac snorted. “Oh, hush,” chided Caramel. “...even though they didn't want anywhere near the actual process,” finished the doctor. “No surprises there,” said Applejack. “But yeah, it was so simple once we found out about it,” Caramel commented. “I was...kind of mad you guys didn't think of it, to be perfectly honest.” Mel spied Mac whispering out of the corner of his mouth: “That's 'cuz it's unthinkable.” Dr. Cardio shrugged before responding: “It's a mea culpa. If I had thought of it, I would have told you. Even though it's not exactly a peaceloving sentiment. When I was looking through the few records of it that exist, I kept getting drawn to how pressure played a role...” Blah blah blah blah blah... “...might be because the shoes were in lines, creating a kind of magical circuit to amplify the decay...” Always the same with doctors. I like this one, but he's still another doctor. They never stop yapping about what they think. It's never hard, cold facts...or at least, not for me. Passive magic theory this, historical possibility that. He already told me the one possible parallel to this was a dead end; why is he rehashing it? And look at those two, drinking in every word. This butcher paper is itchy... “...but it turned out to be a dead end. I can't tell you how frustrating that was, I really can't.” Wait. Usually butcher paper just melts when I lay on it. And this feels different... “...so you can imagine why shoes have befuddled scientists for centuries. Maybe it's the shape, maybe it's the process of making them; it's a mystery I'm sure will never be solved.” “Hey, sorry to interrupt,” Caramel interrupted, “but is this some new kind of butcher paper or something?” “Oh! You noticed!”, said Dr. Cardio, turning to face him. “Yes, in fact it is. I was considering your condition again with the letter you sent, and besides the horseshoe, er, shoe element--” Mel noticed Mac frown ever so slightly. When would the silly pony let that go? “--It occurred to me anything that's meant to be sat or lied upon is probably safe. But that's assuming it's Earth Pony made or part of nature. I suspect the stadium debacle only really happened because everything in there was artificially produced by Unicorns without Earth Ponies in mind. If you think about it, it's really strange they would do that for athletic events featuring Earth Ponies...but them's the breaks, as they say.” “Huh...I wish I had known that earlier,” said Caramel. After he said that, he realized it came off as sarcastic. “Believe me, I wish I had known as well,” countered Dr. Cardio, “but there's just not enough known about this condition; there's so little to go on. Not to mention your father wasn't keen on you being experimented on, which is understandable.” Mel noticed Mac narrow his eyes ever so slightly. He knew full well the overprotective pony wasn't about to stop being overprotective. It was just his way...apparently. Mel just hoped his father wasn't going to be brought up much more. “Hold on, hold on,” Applejack chimed in. “Whut 'bout this here clinic? Ain't it made by Unicorns?” “Actually, no,” answered the doctor cheerfully. “I commissioned this building to be made by Earth Ponies, using materials they would normally use for a clinic. Nothing beats that kind of craftwork, I have to say,” he finished with a flattering smile. Now that Caramel thought about it, when he came here as a foal, any steps he made on the streets of Canterlot left “dirty” prints. The ritzy types just thought he was a dirty commoner who didn't respect their property. Or at least that's what he gathered by the looks they gave him. As for when he came here today... Whoops. I'm sure that was a nasty surprise for the street cleaners. ...Hey, wait a minute. “Wait a minute,” said Caramel. “When I found out about shoeing as a solution, I bore a hole in the ground. That's not Unicorn made at all!” The doctor sighed. “It's just a theory. Maybe the number of shoes had something to do with that like you wrote?” Or maybe my body likes screwing with me. “Maybe.” That's wasn't the first time I marred the ground, either. That grass was completely shredded when I copied Mac. How can any of this make sense? This condition just seems to make up its own rules as it goes along! It'll wreck whatever it sees fit! Even as a foal, it would jerk me away from shoe tricks to show me how... Wait a minute. That's right; I was playing with a horseshoe before I pushed the tree. Maybe the theory's right after all. Sheesh, the only reason I was playing with it was to make that whooshing sound. To be young again... To be normal again... Well, this is the next best thing. “Caramel?” Mel jerked his head up at Applejack's voice. “Huhwha?” “He asked you if'n you wanted the painkiller or not. Ah dunno whut featherbrain of a pony wouldn't, but please tell me yer goin' t'take it. Ah don' care how tough those callouses are, those nails are gonna hurt like th' dickens.” Caramel sighed. He knew this was going to be a controversial decision. “Doc, you told me it might keep the nails from setting, right?” “WHUT?!”, shouted Applejack. Big Macintosh just shut his eyes. Dr. Cardio bowed his head. Caramel was suddenly more cognizant of how unpleasant this would be for anypony whatsoever. His heart skipped a beat. “Yes, unfortunately,” the doctor stated. “The only painkiller that would be strong enough could interrupt the flow of passive magic to your hooves. In case you two don't know what that means, it risks his body rejecting the shoes; that's the reason I recommended against it. It's not that likely, but I think we all know how important this is to him...” Caramel sighed. “So there isn't any alternative?” “Any milder painkiller...,” the doctor responded, “might as well be a glass of water. It wouldn't do anything useful for you. Believe me when I say I'm terribly sorry, Caramel.” Caramel buried his head in his non-shod, bare hooves. So this was it. The only way to ensure his life would get better was to be awake and alert as they were mutilated. Wussing out and taking the painkiller risked making things that much worse for him. The best thing he could say about it was that it made his decision simple. “I am not risking something like that for this.” “YOU IDIOT!”, roared Mac, making Dr. Cardio cringe. “AH CAIN'T BELIEVE YOU'D--” “FINE, YOU TELL ME YOUR IDEA! I'm all ears...” He mocked his lover by flicking his ears up and down. He expected Mac to stomp through the tiled floor...but instead, the big lug screwed up his face gloriously in what Mel assumed was thought. He had never seen Mac this determined to come up with something. “...Paste?”, Macintosh offered weakly. “HAHAHAHAHA!”, roared Mel. “That's a good one, hon! What, did you come with that all by...yourself...wait, could that actually work?! If the paste were strong enough, that is?” “HAHAHAHAHA!”, roared the doctor. “If only! But in seriousness, the idea is to have your body accept the shoes, not just slap them on. The metal needs to be in direct contact with your hooves, with no foreign substance messing with the flow of passive magic. Something like paste wouldn't keep anyway, with the flow destroying anything between yourself and the shoes. That's the same reason the nails we have are made from the same metal as the shoes; they'll essentially become part of them.” Applejack seemed to be lost for comment. Caramel didn't blame her in the slightest. “Well, I think that's everything!”, said Dr. Cardio. “If you'd come this way, Mel.” Caramel jerked his head toward the door as he stepped off the doctor's table. His brain was on fire; his heart was pumping madly; he was so scared, and yet so, so eager. It hurt so much. “Oh, there is just one thing,” teased the doctor. “What?!”, cried Caramel. “I doubt either of you two would want to accompany him, but you are welcome to do so as long as you don't interfere.” Mel instantly felt clammy. He looked to the Apple siblings, who couldn't have looked more conflicted if they tried. “Well, Ah...heh...,” started Applejack, “Ah'd like t'support you an' all, but Ah don' know if'n Ah could watch that...let alone listen to it. Ah ain't proud of it, but--” “It's okay,” Caramel soothed. “I don't really want you watching or listening to it either. It's...well, it is what it is.” He looked to Mac...sweet, overprotective Mac. The lovable lug seemed to be beating himself up over this. “Ah...it'd only be right ta...ta...oh, Ah cain't do this. Ah'm sorry babe, Ah jus' cain't.” Caramel smiled. “No worries. I'll be done in, what, half an hour?” “That sounds about right,” answered the doctor. “If you wish to stay in here, I'll soundproof the door.” The Apples visibly shuddered. “We'll wait in the lobby,” Applejack answered for both of them. Both of them started walking for the entrance. “Alright, then. Right this way, brave one.” Caramel walked into the operating room. He saw another doctor's table, but this one had restraints, presumably to keep him still. He also saw an operating assistant with a hammer and nail cutie mark. He supposed it was fate. The assistant pulled out three normal horseshoes and one round horseshoe that was flat at the top. Maybe it was a special one for his left hind leg? That was considerate of them to make. All four of them had eight holes, but spaced uniquely from each other. Eight holes... Finally, he saw the nails. “Um...,” he stalled, “are they supposed to be that long?” The assistant turned to face him before answering gruffly: “They won't go all the way in. I'll cut them off once they've set.” Caramel was wild-eyed as he turned to the doctor, grinning nervously. “Ooooooooon second thought, I think the painkiller would be a good idea.”
Big MacintoshApplejack sat quietly next to her brother. It was hard to know what to say, even though there was quite a bit to be said. So much had happened a few months ago, and another onslaught of drama came right on the heels of it...and right to her door. Again. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. She was never one for clock gazing. Even in school, she found a way to stay engaged during the most inane lectures on arithmetic. Granted, it involved pretending the numbers on the number line were sheep she needed to herd, but it did help her memorize that times table. This clock, however, was hypnotizing her into a near state of meditation. Each second seemed to be synchronized with her heart. Tick. Tock. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Tick. Tock. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. “...Ah'm bored.” “Eeyup.” Tick. Tock. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. “...He'll be fine. He's tougher than he looks.” “...Ah know.” Tick. Tock. “...You gonna be fine, big brother?” “...Ee...mmhmm.” “Come again?” “Ah'll be okay, sis.” Tick. Tock. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. “...Mind if Ah ask you an odd question?” “...Shoot.” “Ah know yer protective o' him an' all but...um...oh, how do Ah word this?” “Take yer time...” Tick. Tock. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. “...Why 'zactly were you so set against this? Now, before you answer, consider this: if'n you take out the painful surgery an' the statement o' warfare 'gainst nopony in particular, what's there left? Not much.” That's right, ain't it?...Yeah. That's it. Tick. Tock. “Sure, ponies will be scared o' him, at least at first, and he's in some real agony right now, but...all things considered, ain't it jus' a small price to pay? It's jus' a short-term mess to sort out a long-term one, if'n you ask me,” finished Applejack. Tick. Ba-dum. Tock. “...Ah dunno.” She finally looked to her brother: he was slumped over the floor, staring at the tiles in front of him. He really didn't know, did he? “Whut coulda gotten you so riled up, then?”, she asked in a purposefully neutral tone. Tick. Tock. Ba-dum. “...Ah'm not rightly sure. Ah just knew Ah didn't like it.” “Well, nopony likes it, sugarcube,” she commented. “But you were th' only one t'try and keep him from doin' it.” “Not true,” he snapped. “Them other doctors wouldn't touch it.” Tick. Sigh. Tock. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. “T'ain't the same thing, an' you know it.” “An' jus' whut would you—n-nevermind.” Applejack grimaced. This had to get somewhere, or she would never be satisfied. Ba-dum. Tick. Tock. “Big brother, it's clear as day somethin's eatin' you up. But t'ain't whut you say it is. Now just open up t'yer little sister and tell th' truth.” Groan. Ba-dum. Tick. Tock. “Ah done told you th' truth, sis; Ah really don' know.” “Big Macintosh. Think back. You know how silly that sounds? How could you not know?” “...If'n it sounds silly, then Ah guess Ah'm jus' silly.” Tick. Tock. Ba-dum. “Ah don' reckon Ah like that answer,” challenged Applejack. “Tough. S'all Ah got.” Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. “So yer tellin' me you threatened yer lover jus' cuz yer a silly pony? Mac, you look me in th' eyes an' tell me that makes sense.” Applejack watched her brother slowly...too slowly turn his head to face her. They fixed their gazes upon each other. Tick. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Tock. She furrowed her brow trying to perceive him, to see past his own defiant eyes filling her vision. Green irises flaring, shrinking pupils...eeyup, he was hiding something. But then he quickly relaxed, his eyes returning to normal. Ba-dum. Tick. Tock. Ba-dum. Applejack just kept her gaze stony and piercing. Each second seemed to be passing by slower and slower... Tick. Tock. Ba-dum. She had heard two mountains couldn't move each other if they were standing still...but this mountain sure as all six hells wasn't about to budge. Tick. Come on, you big turkey. Fess up. Tock. ...Big Macintosh's gaze slipped to the right. “Ah knew it,” she declared. The big turkey groaned and flopped back to the ground, covering his muzzle with his hooves. Time moved normally again. “Look, Ah'm not tryin' t'make you feel bad here. Ah jus' want t'know what could make my own brother act that way. It was a mite scary, an' Ah ain't keen on seein' it 'gain.” “...'Zat why you ran away, then?” Tick. Blush. Tock. “L-Let's not make this 'bout me.” “Oh, 'course not.” Applejack felt herself almost fall over. It wasn't like him to be sarcastic... Was it? Tick. Tock. “...Well, since you asked, Ah-Ah had a moment o'weakness, that's all. You were rantin' and ravin'...Mel wuz darn near martyrin' himself, an' it wuz all jus'...uncomfortable fer me. Ah jus' hadta git outta there.” Tick. Ba-dum, ba-dum. Tock. “Look, Ah cain't be a hardy cowpony all th' damn time, okay?!” “...Nnope.” “An' jus' whut does that mean?!” “It means no.” Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum. Tick. “...Oh, horseapples. Ah...Ah reckon Ah hated it so much 'cuz...because...” “Take yer time,” said Applejack. Tock. Sigh. Tick. Tock. “...Ah hated it 'cuz Ah didn't...wanna believe that silly pony really had it that bad.” Tick. Cough. Tock. “Ah had never seen a pony in Ponyville that didn't have a reason t'smile. Not one. An' when Ah saw Mel smilin' even though he couldn't buck a single tree...it proved t'me there's always a reason t'be happy. So Ah wuz happy.” Tick. Tock. “But then he showed me who he really wuz...he showed me a pony that...that couldn't smile if'n he tried. Ah...Ah reckon Ah didn't believe in that, not really. Ah didn't believe he wuz really, truly serious; maybe it wuz 'cuz he kept smilin' afterward. But he wuz hurtin', so Ah took pity on him. Not t'mention Ah felt...um...Ah guess Ah jus' went along with him as everythin' happened, Ah dunno. It all happened so fast...” Tick. Tock. Clop, clop. “Seein' him so hard set t'shoe himself...it scared me 'cuz it made me doubt mahself somethin' fierce. Maybe he really didn't have any other choice, it's hard t'say...” Oh, good gravy. “Big Macintosh...that's a right shame, that is. Ah'm sorry you hadta shoulder so much. But there are two things Ah got t'say t'that.” Tick. Ba-dum, ba-dum. Tock. Ba-dum. “One, you coulda told me this, an' Ah woulda reminded you o' how our lives were never jus' sunshine an' gumdrops handed t'us. We hadta work fer what we had, and still do t'this day. An' you know as well as anypony that someponies jus' gotta work harder than others. Caramel's one o'those that's gotta work th' hardest.” “...E-Eeyup.” Tick. “An' puttin' aside th' fact that Ah woulda helped you if'n you told me you were confused or losin' faith...th' other thing Ah wanna say is codswallop, big brother.” “Whut?” Ba-dum, ba-dum, tock. “Ah accept you were strugglin' with yer feelin's. But those feelin's ain't th' kind o' feelin's t'make you bellow at t'top o' yer lungs like yer some stud tryin' t'keep his mare in check. Ah asked you t'tell me th' truth, but yer still hidin' it!” Ba-dum, tick. Ba-dum, tock. “Ah. Ain't. Hidin'. Nothin'!” Tock, tick. Ba-dum... Applejack patted her chest. “If'n yer not hidin' somethin' still, then you gotsta prove t'me yer not crazy.” Oh mercy, did Ah really jus' say that? Ba-dum, ba-dum, tick, tock. That look on his face...Ah did really jus' said that. Oh pony. “Ah told you th' truth, little sis o' mine. Ah ain't crazy! Ah wuz jus' thinkin'...maybe he really didn't have any hope, maybe he really wuz born cursed, but that just...that jus' makes me so angry 'cuz Ah woulda helped him in a heartbeat if'n he came t'me. That silly pony wouldn't take any help, so he jus' let me make a fool outta mahself by experimentin' when he KNEW FULL WELL it wuz pointless! Oh, he jus' let me believe it wuz goin' somewhere, Ah bet that's whut it wuz.” Applejack placed a hoof on her brother's shoulder. It was incredibly tense. She made an effort to soothe him, but he batted her away. “...Stupid colt needed help an' he jus' stowed away in our barn. Did he really think that wuz okay?! He wuz ready t'get blown away in th' cataclysm with that attitude! An' NOW he's shovin' nails in his bare hooves without painkillers 'cuz he's...too scared t'admit he's helpless.” Tick, ba-dum, ba-dum. Tock, ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum. “He's so damn helpless, yet he tries t'make things right without a damn idea in his head. He's so damn proud, Ah bet...Ah bet he only really wanted t'do this without meds 'cuz he felt guilty 'bout stayin' with us, even though he MORE than made it up to us. He jus' smiles an' jokes an' makes like everythin' is okay even though he's dyin' inside 'cuz he thought he could overcome anythin' but he's powerless fer th' first time an' he *cough* hates it so much even though he thought *hack* he could deal with it but he cain't.” Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum. Applejack couldn't do anything but listen as her big brother was breaking apart. It was like watching a train full of ponies at top speed fall over onto its side, taking out the buffalo with it. Tick. “But *wheeze* he cain't feel powerless at a time like this 'cuz *cough* there's so much t'be done like he needs to stop lyin' t'himself *COUGH* an' jus' admit he's a good pony even though he's got all these issues he's hidin' like he's angry all the time an' he tries t'smooth over horrible things an' he doesn't understand how he can like stallions 'an it's...it's...” Tock.
HorseshoesA/N: This chapter does have the unusual shoeing scene in it. I believe it reads more like a painful surgery than gore, so I stand by the Teen rating. But if you disagree, let me know. And if you're not comfortable with content of this nature, then you should probably either skip this chapter or skip down to the other three dashes and read from there. Celestia flashed in Caramel's mind again. She was even more radiant than before, smiling so brightly that the skies burst into flame. Bright, white-hot flames eating the sky voraciously...Eating them for all they were worth, every single brushstroke of blue. Every. Single. One. “And that's the third one!” “Mmmmfgh!” Caramel stopped biting down on the tough fabric. It was horribly dented and slick from the two dozen times he almost swallowed it. But mostly he was just bearing the last wave of shock rushing through his core, searing the left side of his muzzle down to his hips. He was told he wouldn't pass out with how they were doing it, but he did welcome the possibility. Even though it didn't matter, he appreciated how the door outside was soundproofed. If he ever caved and said something ugly, who knew whether his friends would hear it from the lobby without the spell? He didn't want to worry them. Dr. Cardio cast a blue glow over his newly shod hoof, the spell humming so ignorantly. “The nails set perfectly. I...I know it's a horrible thing to say, but I am glad we got you to decide against the painkiller. You'll be out of here in a few minutes, I promise.” “Please...don't tell me when it'll be over,” objected Caramel as the strap on his new shoe was removed. “I am not going to start counting seconds.” The assistant took Caramel's hoof just like the others, carefully cutting nail by nail by the top of the horseshoe. The masterfully made secateurs glided through the offending metal like it was butter. He expected no less, but it was by far his favorite part of the process...it was like getting a pat on the back. That was until the doctor cast another spell to weld the tips of the piercing nails to the shoes themselves. As quickly as it was done, it still made him feel like he was being held over a furnace. The white-hot sun blazed merrily near his leg! “B-but yeah...I just had a moment of weakness, that's all.” The assistant dunked his hoof in a bucket of water. It was probably just room temperature water from some reservoir, but it felt like a dip in the springs of Paradise. He felt very sweaty. “When you said 'absolutely sure', I thought of all those ponies I helped to make sure of their lives...if that made sense, it probably didn't, whatever. And I thought...you know? I should take my own advice. I should make sure of my own life, take it seriously. I can't just take a chance and hope it works out, I've done that too often. Is it hot in here?” “Yes,” responded the other two. “Okay, it's not just me, then.” Caramel felt a sweaty, bare hoof laid delicately on his withers. He supposed the doctor was trying to comfort him, but it just felt weird. Oh, well. “Do you want to take a break?” The sweaty pony furiously debated himself. He wanted out of these damn restraints, and yet he wanted to be able to remember his name by the end of it. It seemed like he was going to be completely worn out no matter how he went about it. So... “Oh, let's just do the last one and get me out of here.” The assistant sighed. Caramel felt the thick cloth strap squeeze his leg and hug the egg bar shoe to his final hoof. The metal was so cold...that wasn't going to last. “You ready?”, asked Dr. Cardio. Caramel took a deep breath. So did the assistant. “Fillies and gentlecolts, we are gathered here today to witness the union of Caramel and the welcome mat,” he said as he bit down on his bride. The doctor tilted his head. “Shock can be very disorienting. Do you really want to keep going right now?” Caramel released the cloth and looked the doctor straight in the eyes. “Ah do.” “Caramel...,” growled the assistant. “I'm ready,” he responded, biting down again. No, I'm not. But I want this to end. I'll just...distract myself. Yeah. The first nail went toward the top of his left hind hoof, pricking his callous and delicately making its way forward. This part's not so bad. It's just the damn hammering. Hammer...hummer, hungry, hundred, humdinger, humiliation, him, hymn, hinderance, hickory, dickory, dock! Tock. NOT GOOD ENOUGH. Okay, something more substantial...um...well, Doc said how this was an unusual way to shoe a pony. Or a horse, I guess. I suppose they would drive the nails in the wall...or nail, whatever, and then have them poke out on another side of it. Tock. BUT THEN IF THEY DID THAT...if they did that for me, it would just...wait, why aren't they doing that? It would certainly hold the nails in. I think it would, anyway. They're made for piercing, not shoeing, so...hmm. They...he said the nails are setting perfectly, so I guess-- Tock. IT WORKS OUT ANYWAY OH FUCK IT HURTS. There's that psychic bathwater again, wheee. Getting nice and clean, pain washing my sins awaaaaaaaaay...oh. Oooooooh, maybe they aren't driving them out to there because-- Tock. AAAAAAAAAAAUGH...because...because...oh crud, I forgot. Something about bathing. Th-this isn't working, I need something different. Tock. Heeeere cooomes the briiiiiiide. Sheeeee's faaaaat and wiiiiiide. Noooooopony knooooooooows how the giiiiiiiiirl got insiiiiiiiiiiiiiide... Tock. OH THANK CELESTIA THAT'S THE LAST DRIVE. Phew...just seven more to go...hahahahaha... How did my life get to this? I don't deserve this. I may not be the nicest pony, but I don't deserve this. But I need it...oh, hello, Mr. Nail. You're friendly, aren't you? I have a boyfriend like you, he's an apple. Tock. YOU'RE THE WORST FRIEND EVER. Six nails later... ...and it's just so damn inconsiderate of me! I don't know if he wants foals or not, I don't know if he wants to get married, I don't even know if he wants me living with him! He just invited me to his home – probably out of pity – and I started taking advantage of him! Tock. CELESTIA, QUIT BOTHERING ME! I'm in a lot of pain right now! Ooooh, hells below, I want to move. But if I move, I'll throw up. Anyway, I promised myself I would make it up to him. Once this is done, I'll make it up to him. Tock. Wait, I helped renovate Sweet Apple Acres. I have made it up to him! It's so...wait. That was for the hospitality all four of them gave me. I still dragged Mac through the dirt because I was so worthless. I should have just asked him out on a date and not thrown myself at him, sheesh. Tock. Oooooh, but then I would be all anxious because “what if he doesn't like me baaaaaaaack?! What if the whole town freaks out because gay things are weeeeeeird?!” Shove it, Caramel! Sometimes you just have to swallow your fear and go for it! That's it! When this is done, I'll ask him out on a date! Tock. This is ridiculous. I'm going crazy without even trying. Tock. Daddy, it hurts. Tock. “Alright, you're in the home stretch!”, exclaimed Dr. Cardio. “Just the last one and that sweet painkiller is yours!” Caramel weakly let go of the biting cloth to speak. “...C-Can I get some water first?” “O-Oh, absolutely,” blustered the doctor. He quickly poured some water from a jug into a small blue cup and levitated it to the punctured pony. Caramel greedily drank every ounce it had. “Don't just leave the boy hanging like that,” the assistant chided. Huh...come to think of it, the assistant looks like Big Macintosh. Small world! Vaguely, Caramel heard the doctor mumble something about free services. I'm so hungry... “...Ow.” The doctor looked like he was about to hug him. “You've been a champ for all this, Caramel. If there were a prize for best patient, you would have about five of them.” “...N-No...th-the nails...” Caramel bit down on the cloth again. He bit for all he was worth. All he noticed was the blazing inferno the fourth set of nails were leaving behind them as they started to defect. “Oh Celestia, they're being rejected,” the doctor panicked. “This isn't good, this isn't...q-quick, we need that last nail in there!” “WHAT?!”, bellowed the assistant. “JUST DO IT! YOU HAVE NO REASON TO DOUBT ME!” Princess Celestia...was that you in my dream? Were you shouting at me about Paradise? Because you're very loud...so very loud. Painkiller, painkiller, good... I can't do this I can't it hurts I'm hopeless WHY IS THIS HAPPENING GODS OF PARADISE SAVE MY SOUL I COMMIT MYSELF IN YOUR CARE JUST PLEASE MAKE IT STOP! TOCK. “Listen here, boy.” TOCK. “I think I get it. You're rejecting them yourself.” WHAT?! JUST SHOE ME IF YOU'RE GOING TO SHOE ME, STOP TALKING STOP IT STOP IT PLEASE STOP IT IT'S WRONG IT FEELS SO WRONG JUST QUIT IT! TOCK. “You need to believe in this! Everything will be fine, you need to believe me!” TOCK. “I-I CAN'T DO IT, JUST STOP PLEASE!” “IT'S TOO LATE! DON'T YOU DARE GIVE UP, YOU'RE SO CLOSE! NOW JUST HOLD ON A LITTLE LONGER, I KNOW YOU CAN DO IT!” Tock, Tock, Tock, Tock, Tock, Tock, Tock. He's right I'm so close BUT IT HURTS BUT I'M ALMOST THERE OH CELESTIA I CAN'T...I can't...wait a minute. It's fading...yes, it's fading. It's not hurting anymore. The nails are still now after what he said, that must be it, this is something I have to believe in. This is so much better, it feels strong, it's...it's just like... TOCK. Oh great skies above. This is...this is meant to be. This is who I am. TOCK. The operating room fell silent. Caramel's eyes were swimming. The only activity left was the assistant cutting the nails as steadily as he could, then the welding, then the cooling. It was done. I did it. I'm a horse. I...I'm free, free for the rest of my life! If it weren't for these restraints, I would dance. “My sides are all tingly...hehehehehe...” Dr. Cardio turned his head from the counter and froze. He looked like Princess Celestia had just told all of Equestria that cake was a breed of dog. “Oh, this is going to keep me up for weeks.” “...So it jus' doesn't make sense t'me, sis! Ah mean, look at me: do Ah look like a mare?” “...Wait, whut? Whut would that matter?” Big Macintosh suppressed a groan. It was so humiliating and confusing to explain, even to his own sister...who seemed remarkably flippant. “Mah point is that Ah'm not built fer this kinda thing! An'...well, Ah don' suppose a colt could be built for it! An' why would one be, when all ponies are meant fer makin' families in that way? Ah...that didn't make sense, whatever. Whut Ah'm tryin' t'say--” “Big Mac, be quiet.” Instantly, he felt his throat refusing to obey him. “Ah think Ah git whut yer sayin' here.” He snorted. At least one of us does. “Ah think yer sayin' yer scared 'bout bein' in love with Caramel, 'cuz that could mean you wouldn't have a family t'care for when th' time's right. Now before you say anythin' else, Ah also think yer sayin' yer frustrated how yer in a nonconventional relationship not havin' a strong say in things like this doctor's visit.” His throat obeyed him, but he had no words. “An' whut Ah hafta say 'bout that is Ah don' see any reason why th' two o' you cain't see eye t'eye on issues. Whut yer doin' is different an' new, that's true. But from whut Ah've seen in all kinds o' couples, th' most important thing is trust. Jus' trust Caramel, he'll trust you, an' both o' you can iron out th' details together.” Mac blinked. Applejack seemed to attain a certain glow about her. She might as well have been his older sibling. “...You got all that from me blatherin' 'bout how big Ah am?” AJ just started laughing. The lobby was filled with her peals of mirth, bouncing off the walls...like he was awash in a warm sea. “W-well, haha, you blathered 'bout much more than that, you big goofball. But no, Ah got all that from bein' yer sister all mah life.” He was cast in a great sea of warmth, drinking from its tideless waters. He felt...he felt more complete. That smile of hers just made him want for nothing. Like Caramel's smile did... “Granted, you don' talk much,” she added, “but Ah picked up a few things here an' there. Ah should say this though.” The sea became a little harsher. Tick. Tock. “If'n you've been hidin' stuff like this from me fer such a long time, Ah reckon Ah won't put up with it! You hid stuff from me an' Ah found it before...an' you were better for it. So Ah need you t'trust me, y'hear?” “E-Eeyup.” “Ah wouldn't mind you keepin' t'yerself if'n it were somethin' mundane.” “Eeyup.” “...But this jus' ain't th' same thing.” “Eeyup, Ah got it.” Applejack kept her gaze on him...but he was finally released. “Ah'll hold you to that, Macintosh.” Tick. Tock. Big Mac slumped to the ground. Again. “...Applebloom wuz so cute when she wuz a foal. Ah wanted one jus' like her.” His sister giggled. “...Heck, Ah still do. Though she's become a right troublemaker.” Applejack sighed. Tick. Ba-dum. Tock. “Oh, o' course she did, big brother. We're a family o' troublemakers, even further than Granny!” Mac felt his hair stand on end as she cupped his muzzle in her bare hoof. “Yer jus' a late bloomer.” He had to snicker. There was nothing late about his development...or so he thought. Suddenly, the door flew open, and Caramel began staggering out from it. “THERE YOU ARE...you two. My friendssssssssss. It's good to see you!” Applejack quickly jerked her hoof away from him. Tick. Tock. “Ohhhh-ho-ho-ho-ho. I get it. It's the staring contest, yeah, yeah! I thought it was last week! Just you wait; I've got a secret strategy.” The dizzy pony's voice lowered to a whisper: “It involves throwing things...!” Dr. Cardio came behind Caramel, looking more disheveled than before. Just what was happening? “Caramel, please be careful. It's true you can walk, but you just had--” “WHY IS HE GOIN' 'ROUND LIKE THAT?!”, roared Macintosh. “WHUT TH' HELLS DID YOU DO?!” “AN' WHUT IN TARNATION HAPPENED T'HIS CUTIE MARK?!”, roared Applejack. “WHUT NOW?!” Big Mac stood up with his sister immediately looked to Caramel's flanks. His cutie mark...had a fourth shoe. It was a completely rounded shoe encircling the other three, which were pointed in different directions than before. It was one straight up, one down-left, one down-right. The fourth shoe was red. “...Jus' whut kinda joke is this? Huh? Is this a joke, Doc? 'CUZ T'AIN'T FUNNY!” “Just calm down.” “AH'LL CALM DOWN WHEN...” Big Macintosh calmed down. “Hehehehe...,” drolled the newly-marked pony. “Shouting is fun. It's like singing, except someone wins. Wait, singing is like that sometimes, too. OOOOH I JUST GOT THE GREATEST IDEA! SHOUT-SINGING! I'll make the prototype!” “You will do no such thing,” interrupted the doctor. Caramel stopped in mid-pose, pouted, and dramatically flopped to the ground. “...He reacted more strongly to the painkiller than I expected. He's fine, and I'm pleased to say the operation was successful, but he'll be out of it for a while. As for the cutie mark...your guess is as good as mine for now.” Big Mac was suddenly overwhelmed by the sight of Caramel. There he was, safe and sound...his hooves shining in the flourescent lights. It took all his strength not to tackle him onto the floor and do something not appropriate for a doctor's office. ...Wait. “...Explain t'me how he's able t'walk so soon after that. An' don' tell me it's th' painkiller, or Ah will sue you so fast--” “Th-there's no need for that!”, the doctor countered nervously. “You see, once the nails were set, his body had fully accepted the shoes. I checked it several times, but both his body and the nails developed a relationship of malleability with each other.” Tick. Tock. “...Whut?”, asked the Apples. “The metal part of him is compromising with the nonmetal part of him. To put it simply, the shoes and nails really are part of his hooves now. He can move and bend, and the metal will bend with him as one unit.” Tick. Tock. “...Whut?”, asked the Apples again. “...Just look at him,” answered Dr. Cardio. “He would only be able to do that by what I said.” Caramel was wiggling his front legs like wet noodles. The only reason Macintosh knew that was because of the wet noodles placed in front of him that one time. And now, if he ever saw wet noodles again, he would have to vomit a little in his mouth. He hadn't even considered how shoeing bare hooves might restrict movement, but that... “...That's just horrifyin'” “HEY!”, shouted Caramel far too loudly. “WATCH YOUR MOUTH, YOUNG COLT! There are ladies present, in case you haven't noticed...?” “...Whut?” ...Oh. “Don' be a child, Mel.” “Oh, but a child is an adult without burden, so you want me to not be an adult by proxy, THEREFORE, you don't want me to BE at ALL! How about YOU stop being a child, Mac? See how that works for you!” Sweet Celestia, give me strength. Ah love this pony, Ah shouldn't wanta clobber him. “H-How long does the painkiller last?”, asked Applejack. “Oh, about an hour,” replied the doctor. “It's not good for chronic pains, but it works wonders for surgeries. Usually...” “...An' when did he take it?” The doctor blanched. Not that it was hard for him to do. “...I'd say five minutes ago.” “I...”, began Caramel, “feel powerful. I feel like everything that was wrong about the world was just SMASHED when these babies jumped on my hooves! I'm strong!” Without prompt, the shod pony reared up on his hind legs and slammed his front legs on the tiled floor. He managed to split the offended tiles in halves and quarters, but those surrounding it remained whole. "...Did I just do that?" Applejack and the doctor nodded nervously. "Eeyup." "That's okay," Caramel offered. "I have a pile of gold candy at home, that should pay for it. It's kind of stale, though, I hope that's okay." That does it. Ah am never takin' him out drinkin'. Ever. That was when Caramel flopped to the floor. That was when Big Macintosh felt his heart fall with him. “...I'm alive. I just tortured my body, and I came out better than before. I was right. I WAS RIGHT, BABE! I WAS SO SCARED I WAS WRONG, BUT I WAS RIGHT!” ...Oh, screw it. Mac pulled Mel to him, pressing his lips against those he had missed far more than he thought. The sweet, powerful warmth made him shut his eyes completely, every inch of his middle reveling in the gift given to himself. Mel returned the decadent pressure like he did so many times before... ...And then pulled away to lightly bop Mac on the muzzle. The metal bruised him a little. “You're such a big pony. Awfully big for a McIntosh, certainly. I wonder if you were smaller, would you be Little Macintosh? Or maybe Standard Macintosh? You're just so Macintosh-y!” Ah guess Ah cain't have nice things. “U-Um, big brother, we need t'go an' git Caramel home,” interrupted Applejack. “Ah think we can git th' answers we need by mail...?” The doctor nodded ecstatically. “O-Oh wait,” Dr. Cardio added. “I can actually make that easier for you, if you're in a hurry...” He glanced to the right. The other three, oddly enough, all looked straight at him for a response. “I can actually teleport you to just outside Ponyville. But you'll need to all stand together, and look straight at me. It's a demanding spell.” “...I wonder which house I should buy...?” Big Macintosh took Caramel's head and made it face the doctor. “Okay. Here goes...!” The doctor's horn blazed in a blue flame, which sprouted forward to envelop the three hapless ponies. Mac's vision filled with the harsh light...then he felt lighter...and then he was gone. The doctor sighed and flopped to the floor. “Thanks for your help, Miss Sparkle.” The fern in the corner had been replaced with a purple unicorn with a smile meant to comfort others. The blinding spell had kept that hidden well enough, thank goodness. “Not at all,” Twilight answered. “I'm glad you decided to send them home this way, actually. It'll make for--” “--Less public reactions, yes. Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt.” “...Anyway. It's time for you to fulfill your royal duty.” Cardio frowned. It seemed so invasive...but he had no choice. “Follow me...my results are still in that operating room. I'll just make some copies.” Keen to put the matter behind him, he stuffed the stack of papers into an envelope. Twilight then transported it, presumably to her own place of study. “Thank you, sir. And I promise this is the last you will hear from me,” she offered. With a flash, the troublesome pony vanished. “...Is she gone?” Cardio spied his temporary assistant from behind the doctor's table. It was impressive the big lug managed to hide back there. “You're fine, Mac.” Mac stood up and yawned. “Good. I didn't want to have to deal with her.” “Oh, please,” Cardio chided. “You did a great thing here today. I have to thank you again, I couldn't have done this without your help.” Mac shrugged. “I'm a professional.” Tick. Tock. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. “Well, I should get going,” said Mac as he exited the operating room. Cardio didn't hear the door close, too engrossed in the original data sheets. “It was nice to see you again...I guess.”
ChangesCaramel was swimming. His body was suspended on pure energy, coiling and tightening in his legs. All he had to do was jerk his left hind hoof to get a jolt of ecstacy racing through him, making him tremble as it clashed with the muted sorrow still beating with his heart. One jolt after another, and the sorrow became that much weaker...until it was barely there at all. He was free. He was out of that harsh office and back home. And he was strong. Caramel blinked. When his eyes took in the outskirts of Ponyville again, it all seemed softer, warmer, more welcoming. The skies were a little bluer, the grass was a little taller, and the yellow-hot sun blazed merrily above him. It was enough to make him break into song. Maybe he would take up singing, now? He certainly wouldn't ruin the electronic equipment now! In fact, he was curious as to why the good doctor didn't want to hear his impromptu rendition...perhaps Dr. Cardio was more of the opera type. …Realizing just where he was, he rolled off of the wonderful Big Macintosh and hard-working Applejack. “I'm terribly sorry about that,” he intoned diplomatically. “You just have to understand, this is incredibly strange and wonderful for me. I can hardly interpret what occurs around me sometimes!” His dear friends looked to each other. They were probably glad to be back home. “...Eeyup, it's good we got you back here,” confirmed Applejack as she looked back to him. “Oh, isn't that a nice reversal!”, commented Caramel. “You mimicked your brother's vernacular! That's a sweet little reference, kudos! You seem more like him just for saying it.” Was he jumping? It felt like he was trying to fly. Well, the sky was the limit on that account! Literally! But the handsome Big Macintosh caught him in mid-air by his mane. That was an odd way to catch a pony, but he supposed it worked well enough. He needed to wash his hair. Mac then tossed him onto a big, red pony's back. From where did that come? The world was full of mysteries... “Mel, Ah'm thinkin' you could use a nap,” the delicious stallion grunted from somewhere around him. A nap? That was a preposterous idea! He felt great! He felt like running up and down the Canterlot mountains! He felt like throwing a thousand horseshoes, catapulting into the great frontier, stomping his hooves into the mighty earth to...make it...tremble...Mac's hair was so soft, so warm... Caramel was swimming. Big Macintosh turned off the water and submerged the sleeping Caramel. After a couple of hours of not talking crazy in the bed, it became clear the sheets needed to be washed from the sweaty pony's...well, sweat. So he decided to give him a bath while they hung out to dry. The dry summer wind blew quietly into the bathroom from the open window, rustling his mane a little. He felt itchy...he decided to sit next to his shod stallion in the tub, relishing the hot water from hoof to shoulder. “We shoulda done this before...heh heh. It's jus' too bad yer in dreamland.” He soaked a simple brush in the bathwater and in liquid soap to scrub behind Mel's ears. He always liked how the cute little things poked out defiantly next to that big, parted mane. Of course, that brown mane was heavy with water now, clinging to the colt's face and neck in long strands...hugging his little ears, covering his sweetheart eyes, letting the odd droplets fall down his cheeks...he really should have done this before. Showering just wasn't the same; sitting right there in the calm water, massaging the dirt off Mel's hide fur as Mel just kept breathing deeply, in and out, his chest rising and falling... Mel snorted. Mac giggled and kissed his now clean forehead, nuzzling the wet hair a little. The silly pony fell asleep right there on his back; it was the cutest thing. Those shod hooves seemed to want to bounce off of his hide, though. The metal had given him a few bruises to nurse, but at least this was a good time to do so. It would be interesting to teach the pony to handle those shoes correctly, that was for sure. The metal was cool to the touch, too...maybe that would be useful for something. Ahem. Mac picked up Mel's front right leg and started scrubbing it. His own hoof could vaguely feel the nails embedded in the flesh. Knowing full well he would regret it, he twisted the leg into waves and circles: the nails indeed seemed to twist with the rest of the leg. It was enlightening, in a sickening way, to see how flexible a pony's legs were when they seemed like they should be stiff. This pony seemed to defy reason every chance he got. “...Babe, whut am Ah gonna do with you?” He bent over slightly to scrub the pony's back. Mel keep breathing, in and out. “T'ain't over 'cuz you got shod, even if'n you think that. Ponies are gonna stare at you, you gotta watch t'see you don' hurt others, an' maybe stuff Ah cain't even think of. Ah jus' hope you weren't blowin' hot air when you said you can take it, Ah really do.” The summer day blew some hot air into the bathroom. Mac realized he should have shut the window, but he was too busy being wet. He opted to gently rub the dirt off Mel's shoes instead, closing his eyes to keep from looking at them. “...Maybe if'n they see you buckin' trees, they'll git used t'it. That's more or less how they got used t'me, so it's worth a shot. Hmm...eeyup. Ah like that. You like that?” Mel just keep breathing. “Good. That's settled, then.” “...Wha? What's settled?” Macintosh opened his eyes: Mel was using his free hoof to push the hair away from his face. When he was done, those sweet baby blues showed themselves from half-lidded eyes. Damn, his boyfriend was a pretty pony. “It can wait 'till later,” answered Mac, still scrubbing the other leg. “How're you feelin'?” “I...” Mel stopped as he observed the free hoof. Mac watched him slowly turn it back and forth, sunlight gleaming from the metal each time. He knew the little horse was completely entranced. His boyfriend was a horse...Celestia, help him. With a smile, Mac stopped scrubbing the leg to put a hoof of his own against the shining shoe. It felt much warmer than before. “...Heh heh,” Caramel said with a groggy smile. “Good morning. I see it's bathtime.” Mac wasn't sure whether to giggle or cringe. Just what did that medicine do to him? “...Afternoon.” Mel blinked. Then he shook his head quickly, rippling the bathwater. “Afternoon? What happened?! What time is it, and why--” Mac kissed him. “We got back from th' office a while ago,” he explained. “You were whacked out on that painkiller, so Ah laid you down fer a nap. It's...um...'bout four o' clock now, Ah think?” He turned his head to the old clock in the bathroom, straining to see the minute indicator. “...Eeyup, 'bout four o'clock.” He turned back to Mel, who seemed concerned for some reason. “Babe, are you nearsighted?” Mac blinked. He blinked again: that fuzziness was always there, but it was glaring to him now. Was he nearsighted? Why was he doubting himself just because Mel asked him? “...Maybe, Ah dunno.” Mel blinked. “Huh. Anyway, you said I was on a painkiller?” “Eeyup,” said Mac, stifling a shudder. “...'Zat why I feel like my muscles were replaced with mud?” “Eeyup.” Ah suppose they would, wouldn't they? ...Wait. “...So, you don' remember anythin' 'bout that visit?” He watched Mel scrunch his cute, wet face in thought. It was like watching a puppy tilt its head in confusion, except this puppy had some serious brains when he wanted them. “I remember going in to get shod—I remember being in so much pain I wanted to chew my own legs off—and then there was a mishap, and the rest is just blank, I'm sorry.” Blood rushed to Mac's ears. That was the last thing he wanted to hear. “M-Mishap, you say?” Mac hated how Mel looked so small then. “I...I don't know, I really am sorry.” When're you ever gonna be happy...? You got nothin' t'apologize for, don' beat yerself up. “No need t'be sorry,” offered Mac with a comforting hoof. “We'll have a talk with yer doctor once things calm down.” We'll sit down an' have a nice chat... The bathwater was starting to get tepid. Mac found himself squirming in the tub, trying to warm up what the dry air outside couldn't reach. “...It's weird,” Mel began with a shaky voice. “I feel really strong, but I feel really weak, too. I didn't think that was possible.” Mac pulled his boyfriend into a soothing kiss...but the soothing was mostly for him. It seemed he would never get off this roller coaster. But if that was what being with Caramel meant, then he would just have to get used to roller coasters. If he were going to spend the rest of his life with a stallion...Mac needed to get used to several things. “Yer jus' tired, an' no surprise. But since you mention it, we should git you gettin' used t'yer shoes, 'specially since...well, Ah wuz thinkin'--” “--That with horseshoes as my special talent, it gives me strength that a normal horse wouldn't have?”, finished Caramel. “Eeyup.” “Yeah, I've been thinking that for a while now.” “...An' fer Pete's sake, call 'em shoes.” “Only if you can tell me who Pete is,” said Caramel with raised eyebrows. “Pete's...Pete is...” Mac felt his mind fold in on itself. “...Ah have no idea. Jus' whut does that mean, anyway?” “I wouldn't know, babe. But I do know one thing...”, Mel crooned, carefully placing a hoof on Mac's thick neck. As soon as the metal touched his hide, Mac spied the red bar shoe mark gleaming from beneath the bathwater. The one shoe holding the others together...He thought of his own, an apple core for an Apple to the Core. His cutie mark made sense. But this... “An' whut's that, Mel?” He couldn't keep his eyes off the new cutie mark; it split and wavered as both or either of them shifted the water. It seemed appropriate. “I have a very special pony in the bathtub with me. And he's nice and wet.” Mac felt the water lapping near his shoulders. It was too high, too lukewarm, and more pressing matters were at hoof. “Ah'd love to...but Ah need you t'do me a favor first.” Of course, Mel looked confused. “Uh...okay. I don't really get this game, but I'll play along,” the silly pony offered with that smile from the field. “Look down t'yer flanks.” “Ooooh, I see now." Caramel smile became even more devious. "A little self-exposure, right here in the...” The summer wind stood still. “What's that?” Mac sighed. It was all he could do. “...It's yer cutie mark.” “No, it's not,” Mel countered a little too quickly. “This isn't my cutie mark. It can't be.” Suddenly, Mac felt his stadium grin taking over his face, even as he registered Mel's distress. “Cain't it be?” Why did Ah jus' do that? Mel looked even more bewildered than before...but then inexplicably burst into laughter. “Oh, very cute!”, cackled the wet pony. “I guess you got some trick from Pinkie Pie and just put it on me while I slept. You jokester, you!” Mac took a hard look at his reflection in the water. Maybe what Applejack said about being overprotective had its merit. Mel's reflection swam next to his, slowly but certainly falling to that face of pure dread he never wanted to see...the face he tried so hard to prevent. But in the split second before looking up, he mused on how that face was a part of Caramel he just couldn't avoid. Grinning was for the dancing devils. “Mac...you remember how I would smile whenever I was upset? I-I just can't seem to--” “Caramel, Ah need you t'listen t'me,” he interrupted with a hoof to Mel's lips. “Yer...yer goin' through somethin' mighty strange, we both know it. Yer jus'...special, an' that's jus' fine. Ah need you t'know we're all on yer side no matter whut changes. 'Kay?” Mac made himself look into Mel's quivering eyes. They had just reached the lowest point of the roller coaster, and it was time to start climbing back to the top. Mel nodded without a word. “Good. Doctor Card or whutsit should have answers fer us eventually. 'Til then...jus'--” “Be strong,” Caramel finished. “Yeah...I can do it.” Mac rewarded the tired pony with a nuzzle on the muzzle. They both gave tired smiles as they gazed upon Mel's partially submerged hoof, the blue shoe glinting in the golden light. “A-After all...”, continued Mel without prompt, “I have some new shoes to play with!” “HEAR YE, GOYIM OF PONYVILLE! HEAR YE FOR THY SALVATION IN THIS TROUBLED TIME! THE GREAT FLOOD SHALL RETURN; REPENT OR YE SHALL BE SWEPT AWAY!” “Goyeem? What's a goyeem?” Ponies were gathered around the seven bearded travelers in the town square. Nopony knew where they came from; they just set up a little blockade that didn't actually blockade anything. When one of them tried to block a pony from getting by, the offended pony would just move out or range and go around the tiny group. But as the crowd grew, the presumed leader of the seven shouted even louder. “KNOW THY SALVATION IS NIGH BUT FOR A SIMPLE ADMISSION!”, bellowed the grey, middle-aged stallion. “SURRENDER THINE NOTIONS OF PARADISE, AND THE WATERS WILL RECEDE! HEAR US NOW! HEAR US NOW!” “'Notions of paradise'? The hells does he mean?” “This is some new cult, isn't it? The tourists are bad enough!” “GO HOME, YOU STINKY PONIES!...OR TAKE A SHOWER, ONE OR THE OTHER!” One of the seven stopped to smell his cloak and pouted. It was at that time Caramel, Big Macintosh, and Applebloom wandered into the square to see what the to-do was. It was slightly jarring to see the teeming mob of color against the seven drab heralds. The only colors in the center of it all were grey, black, brown, and a hint of green from shredded grass. The crowd was gossiping throughout the leader's rant. Caramel decided to investigate. “Hey, Junebug?” He gestured to her. “What's going on here?” “No clue,” she answered with an eye roll. “They showed up here about an hour ago, pulling different ponies aside. Now they're trying to rile us all up. Oh, I like your hair!” “Thanks, it's just a whim I had,” said Caramel as he vainly tossed his head. He decided to keep the wet look, since Macintosh kept playing with it the other day. Even if it got old, it was a nice change to go against the other changes. “Oh...a whim, huh?”, teased the flower mare. “Yeah. I had a whim like that when Ace said he liked brunettes. I know all about that kind of whim,” she finished with an obvious wink. Mel blushed as he looked to Mac: the dirty blonde seemed intent to ignore Junebug. “Hey, Big Mac,” Junebug said with her usual smile. “Crazy day, huh?” “E-Eeyup.” What's with that stutter? Why would-- “GATHER 'ROUND, GOYIM OF PONYVILLE! HEAR THE DILUVIANS' STORY OF THE GREAT FLOOD, AND TREMBLE AS IT BEGINS ANEW AT THINE HOOVES!” “Whut's this 'bout some great flood?”, asked Applebloom. Junebug shrugged. “Maybe they mean the Paradise Falls story?” “GOOD QUESTION, YOUNG MARE!”, exclaimed the leader of the Diluvians. “BUT...But I believe thou shall find this version much more interesting...” The crowd steadily quieted to nothing but dull whispers. “Back before the Alicorns, before the Draconequuii, when Ponies were just learning to speak--” “--and the Law of the Forest was the Law of the Land,” finished the crowd. “THIS HAD BETTER NOT BE THE SAME STORY!”, shouted Applebloom. “OW!” Big Macintosh had thumped her on the head. Caramel couldn't help feeling sorry for her. “...Anyway,” continued the leader, “back in those days, there was no Paradise. There were only the elements themselves, and the world was at war with itself.” The crowd began to murmur. Caramel believed it sounded mostly dubious. “No mission to find the Sun ever happened; the great races of the world never converged on a mountain made of sky and marble; and the six Hells were never extinguished by the Waters of All Directions. Oh, but there was a Flood. And that Flood came from one of the Hells itself...the Hell of Peace.” “...WHAT?!”, cried the crowd. “That makes no sense! The Hell of Peace?! You just renamed one of them to make your story work! And you didn't even do it right!” “YOU BIG FAKER!”, yelled Applebloom. “Stop doin' that, Big Brother!” “LISTEN TO ME! IT MAKES SENSE IF YOU—IF THOU LISTEN!” The crowd became still again. “The Hell of Peace,” began the leader, “is the dungeon of all well-meaning foolishness. Never you mind the Hell of Chaos: that is just what such foolishness would have you believe. No, Chaos is born from all six hells together, and each one has a contribution...with the Hell of Peace giving its ignorant mistakes, its miscommunications, its white lies all MAGNIFIED upon each other!” The crowd barely stirred. Caramel had to remind himself to breathe. “And THAT...is from where the Waters of All Directions rose. The ancient Ponies were at the mercy of the splitting earth, the roaring sky, just as we all were in the middle of Spring THIS YEAR!” Gasps and panicked murmurs spread quickly throughout the crowd, which was three times the size of when Caramel, Big Macintosh, and Applebloom got there. Caramel flashed to Sweet Apple Acres broken and writhing beneath his hooves, stricken with dread at the possibility of it being his own work. At least it turned out to be out of anypony's control, let alone his... “Oh yes, the time is near...but PAY ATTENTION! This is important. The ancient ponies pleaded to the sea for reprieve from their hungry fields and murderous storms. And the sea answered. The tides ROSE UP--” “Oh my...” “climbed to be above the TALLEST MOUNTAINS--” “Oh pony, this is going to be awesome.” “--and SWALLOWED everything they could.” The crowd became still again...but only for a few seconds. That was when they began to disperse, gossiping about whatever. The other six squirmed uncomfortably. Caramel sneezed. “D-Don't you – I mean THOU SHALL NOT LEAVE! J-Just imagine it. The seas DROWNED the earth and everything on it. It was a MIRACLE the races managed to survive! Why do you think the stories of Paradise are so sketchy?! Why – WHY WON'T YOU STUPID GOYIM LISTEN TO ME?!” The crowd stopped. “STUPID?!” “The nerve of that gauche cultist!” “There's that word again. Goyeem...?” “WE'RE NOT GONNA TAKE THAT, RUBE!” Caramel looked to Junebug and the others: they were slowly backing away from the crowd. He was tempted to do the same... “OH, YOU'RE A FINE ONE TO CALL ME RUBE, YOU PUTZ!” “YOU WANNA FIGHT, TOUGH GUY?!” “I'LL TAKE YOU...oh wait, please don't, I'm sorry I'm sorry...!” The shod pony saw the scene unfold: it looked far too familiar. He had to do something, but the context was so different now. The only way he could think to stop it was more or less the same way he stopped it before. He was fazed at how much had changed over summer... “Mac? I'm going in. I'm going to show them.” He purposefully didn't look at Mac as he walked toward the center. “Nnope.” Mel felt a large hoof push him to the ground. Figured. “Well, what's your plan, then? They're gonna beat him to a pulp!” He heard nothing from his stallion or the others. The policeponies arrived, but they were clearly having trouble calming the rowdy crowd. Caramel wanted to keep it from getting ugly on the part of any of them. He just had to get their attention without risking too much... “Hmm...” One method presented itself to him. It was worth a shot, at least. “You got a plan, Mel?”, asked Applebloom in a worried voice. Mel shrugged off the hoof from his back and stood up. He heard Mac snort behind him. “I do, Bloom; you should go on home now.” Somewhat surprisingly, Applebloom obeyed and scurried off toward the farm. Mel took this as a good omen. He looked to his very best friend. “I'm gonna need your help, babe. Let's get to that gap right there, just follow my lead. Junebug?” “Y-Yeah?...HEY, YOUR CUTIE MARK--” “Yeah, yeah, calm down. Just...make it clear to everypony what we're doing once we start doing it. You ready, Mac?” “Nnope...” “Good, let's go.” Mel grinned that stadium grin. He was starting to see why Mac liked it so much. “W-Well...,” said the cult leader, “I think this was a very enlightening discussion. It's c-clear that different lessons are taught here, and you goy—ponies made very good points. So we'll just pack it in here and head back to the Borean Peninsula.” The crowd murmured in agreement. “Okay, then...let's just make sure not to step on them.” Caramel moaned in agreement as his tongue hugged Big Macintosh's in the middle of the town square. He knew it was safe to stop but...well, he didn't. “...Is it okay to separate them?”, asked somepony to the policeponies. “Y-Yes, but...we're kind of scared to, even the unicorns,” admitted the chief, glancing to the shuffling magic users. “You're supposed to be keeping us from being scared!” “I-I suppose it's not that we're scared,” defended the unicorn squad leader. “It's just...oh, come on, they're not harming anything and it's just rude!” “Plus we're not used to dealing with...horses," concluded the chief. “And I don't want any more freaking out about it, you hear?” Caramel had tried to keep his hooves still and close to his boyfriend as they laid side by side on the cobblestone, but the glint from his horseshoes made it obvious. He inferred the hoofsteps he heard earlier were the crowd's backing away from him. He'd just have to win them over later; he was a little busy at the moment. “I t-think everypony's getting used to it,” offered Junebug to the crowd. “Caramel's a good pony, after all. It's more...well...” “It's-It's just they're right in the middle of everything!”, finished some mare. “...That was the point,” observed Junebug. “...And here we are at the infamous town square!”, continued the tour guide as she walked up with her group. “The riot and public declaration of young Caramel's intents with local farm pony Big Macintosh took place here, with everypony gathered...very similarly to this—AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH!” “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH!”, shouted the startled crowd. TWEEEEEEEEEEEET! The crowd quieted again at the police chief's whistle. He glared at the tour group, whose leader calmed herself with a deep blush. “Everypony just stay calm!”, he announced. “We'll get this sorted out...somehow.” “Say, I don't remember Caramel having that cutie mark...” Mel pulled away to speak. Mac seemed put out by it, but then just started nuzzling him. “It's a long story,” he explained. “Or at least I assume it is; I need to hear from my...guy, first.” “Your...guy?”, questioned the mayor. “Yeeeeah. My guy. Everypony has a guy.” “...Ooooooh,” said the crowd. Mel swallowed. He was grateful for Mac nuzzling and pecking him, because he needed the encouragement for what he had to say next. “...And as for the horseshoes...I n-need y'all to just trust me on that one. I got them – oh yeah, right there – I got them for a good reason, and I'll be careful with them.” Ponies in the crowd looked to each other dubiously. “...It has to do with my weird condition,” offered Caramel. “The shoes fix it. I mean, it just makes sense: my talent is shoes, so getting shod fixed the problem!” After a while, the crowd began to murmur in acceptance. Mel nuzzled Mac in return, relishing the mid-morning sun coating him in gentle warmth. “See, it wasn't so bad after all!” “S-Shut up an' kiss me,” grunted Mac as he pulled Mel back in the hugging match. The crowd groaned. “Not again!” “This is just—you know what? I'm leaving. This is ridiculous.” “I'm with you.” The crowd finally dispersed. But even if it didn't, Mel was content to stay locked with Mac on the sunbathed stone... “You know whut they're sayin', right?”, said Big Macintosh the next day. “DAHLING, did you hear the latest?”, mocked Caramel. “Ponyville has a little HORSE running around!” Mac smiled wanly. He wasn't sure what else to do. “It's no big deal, really. I mean, of course it's a big deal, but it's not that important to me.” “Mel...” You can talk t'me 'bout this, really. Ah'm not stupid. “Mac, you're more scared of this than I am. As far as I see it, I'm just a pony who went in for a little...excruciating surgery-ritual-whatsit and came out better and stronger than before.” “...” You were shivering in yer sleep. Ah thought Ah wuz makin' you cold at first. “So what if the Equestrian Historian Society is pestering me? I'll just answer their questions and move on with my life! It's like...it's like giving a speech in bits and pieces!” “...” Ah'd laugh if'n it weren't so sad. “...Are we gonna do this?” Macintosh blinked, squinting at the square hay bale lying next to his mare. For once, he was glad he couldn't see in front of him clearly. “...Eeyup. Jus' push that there bale ever so slightly.” “You squinted again. I'm getting you glasses.” “Git on now, Mel.” “They'll be the best lenses in Equestria, Caramel Guaranteed!” “Jus' push th' bale, please.” Mac walked up to Mel, the bale getting clearer and clearer with each step. He saw the shod hoof press against the hay, budging it a few inches. “Not bad,” graded Mac. “Now a little less.” Mel complied, budging the bale a couple of inches. “Even less.” Mel budged it less than an inch. Then the little horse upped the ante by budging it even less...and even less...until it barely moved at all. “Hah!”, boasted Caramel with a smile. “And you were worried I would hurt somepony, pfft!” “Good,” commended Big Macintosh, remembering the welts on his chest. “Now if'n you could--” Mel cut him off by picking up the hay bale with both hooves. “...'Kay. Ah guess you could practice handlin' it like--” Mel started bouncing the large bale high in the air, tossing it from hoof to hoof. The energetic pony juggled it faster and faster, higher and higher, switching between hind and front legs to keep it aloft. “T-this is unbelievable!”, shouted Caramel. “I couldn't even touch it before; now it's doing whatever I want! I-I-I CAN'T BELIEVE IT! HAHAHAHAHA!” Mac bristled at the wind blowing from the rocketing bale. He was making himself dizzy keeping it in his sight, the sun glaring mercilessly in his eyes. “Um...! J-Jus' stop right there, babe. Don' git – DON' GIT CARRIED AWAY!” Despite the warning, Mel ended up bucking the bale toward him, eyes as wide as could be. Mac did the first thing that came to mind: he turned around as quickly as he could to buck it into the air. Bad idea. Mac's body was seized with panic as he turned around. The tightly packed hay was flying in a giant arc, passing high over the apple trees just weeks away from bearing fruit. Mel had disappeared. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” “JUNEBUG?! GIT OUTTA THERE!” Mac sprinted over to the eventual landing site, desperate to spot the orange and beige mane so close to getting crushed. Dodging trees left and right, he finally saw a blur of the flower mare, rooted to the spot. He squinted: she was trembling. “RUN, YOU SILLY MARE!” “Big Mac...I...” The bale was plummeting to right where she stood. She fell to her knees and covered her head. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” Mac threw himself toward her at full speed. “NNOPE! AH GOTCHA--” Thud. The hay bale landed...on top of two beige hooves. Macintosh fumbled onto the ground, narrowly missing Junebug and rolling uncontrollably, until he finally unfolded onto his stomach for an emergency break. Each blade of grass worked together to burn his barrel; but he did stop. “I-I'm so sorry, June! Things just got really crazy! Are you okay?” Big Macintosh unsteadily sat up and jostled his buzzing head. He took deep breaths. His stomach was making him wince with each intake. “U-Um, I'm fine. J-Just a little rattled...mmngh.” Deciding to ignore it, Mac stood up on all fours and started walking over to the scene of the crime. His head was still buzzing. Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum, badum! “You okay, Mac?” Nnope...but Ah will be once Ah'm done with you. “...Mac?” “YOU IDIOT! WHUT IN TARNATION POSSESSED YOU T'DO THAT?!” The orchard was completely silent. Junebug was still quivering. Mel slowly set the bale down and stood on all fours, his ears drooping. “W-What?” Mac felt like his chest was going to burst from his throbbing heart. It took all his effort not to whack the horse upside the head. “THAT...wuz th' most reckless stunt Ah've ever seen you pull. You almost flattened th' poor mare!” His eyes were bulging as Mel's face twisted in that rage he knew too well. Sure enough, they were head-to-head again, digging into the ground for leverage. “EXCUSE ME?! I wasn't the one who bucked it across the orchard, now was I?!” “Ah wouldn't've HAD to if'n you did whut Ah TOLD you t'do!” He pushed the miscreant back an inch. “Oh, please!”, countered Caramel, surprisingly pushing him the other way. “You could have EASILY blocked it. And yes, I messed up, but don't you dare pin this on me!” Sweet blue skies, yer cute when yer angry...nono, gotta focus. “Yer new shoes ain't an excuse t'act like that. Ah didn't have enough time t'block the damn hay!” “Well, you could have broken it! Did that just slip your mind? Or were you just a little too jealous?!” “Jealous?! Whut th' hells do you mean by that?!” “Um...guys?” “QUIET!”, shouted Caramel. Junebug shrank away from both of them. “DON' YOU YELL AT HER, YOU BULLY! This is on yer head, an' DON' DENY IT!” Mac's brain was on fire, seething with rage...but he felt the barest trickle of something warm. He forced himself to ignore it, pushing forward. “Oh, I'M the bully now?! Well, isn't THAT ironic!” Mel pushed back again. “Them's fightin' words, hon.” Push. “Bring it, sweetheart! I'm not afraid of you!” Push back. Gods o' Paradise, this is makin' me hot. But whut he did is so...! “...You think jus' cuz' you mutilated yerself, you can take ME out t'pasture?!” Big push. “I'll take all your first cousins out if I have to!” Big push back. “You cain't even bowl me over by mahself, squirt!” Mac gritted his teeth as he made another push. He hated to admit it was getting harder and harder... “Oh, NAME CALLING now? I guess we're at the point of no return!” Mel held his ground. “Ah guess we are!” Mac tried to bowl him over, but was met full force. “FINE!” Mel shoved him, bruising him again. “FINE, THEN!” Mac abandoned all control and tackled him to the ground. As soon as they hit the dirt, he shoved his tongue roughly down Mel's throat. His heart was split between righteous anger and the strangest fever clouding his vision. But he was met lick for lick, both trying to overwhelm the other, even if it meant one of them would choke. Junebug cleared her throat. The orchard was suddenly still again. The afternoon sun bore the early August heat on them, same as before. “...Did we just start fighting each other over an accident?” “...Eeyup.” "And just as suddenly making out, angrily?" "Looks like it." “That's kind of silly.” “Eeyup.” “...My head hurts.” “Eeyup...” “Sorry 'bout that.” Mac pecked Mel on the forehead. “Same.” “Boys...” Macintosh hurriedly got off of his colt. He was sick of being angry...He needed a break, something to clear his head. At least Junebug seemed to be taking it all in stride. “So...Junebug,” started Caramel. “What brings you to the farm?” “W-Well,” she stuttered, “I was thinking you guys might like a snack, since you're hard at work with the whole...shoe thing. But maybe you guys need both baskets, if you're this exciteable,” she finished with a chuckle. Mac blinked. He didn't even notice the baskets of daisies she was carrying on her back. Was he that distracted? Or maybe he was nearsighted after all...? “That's mighty kind o' you,” offered Big Macintosh. “What he said,” said Mel. “But no thanks. I don't need a pick-me-up. After all...” The ridiculous pony walked over to the weapon and casually tossed it on his right hoof. “I'm on top of the world! It's...it's the weirdest thing, too; it's like the hay is a horseshoe.” The other two just stared at him. “Exactly!", he continued without prompt. "It doesn't really make sense, but at the same time, it does! This is just an oddly-shaped horseshoe to me. My legs are horseshoes. It's like...” Mel dropped the bale on his head, balancing it perfectly. “I AM the horseshoe,” he intoned with false drama. “We are one...” Mac's head was buzzing for an entirely different reason now. He massaged his aching temple. “...Mel, you haven't been takin' painkillers while Ah wuzn't lookin', have you?” “HAHAHA! Of course not! That would just dull the experience! I'm gonna embrace this for all its worth. So, y'all know what I'm going to do?” Mac looked to Junebug. She looked scared, too. “...What's that, Caramel?”, asked Junebug. “...I'm gonna buy a house!” With that, Mac watched the strange beige pony flip the bale off his head and gallop toward town. He felt itchy. “...Well, shoot. Ah got all excited fer nothin'.” “Do what?” “N-Never you mind.” Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Breathing in through his nose, he felt his pulse slow to normal. He felt very, very drained. Caramel was capable of handling himself, so Macintosh decided to let him wander into town or whatever it was he wanted to do. His chest hurt. “Mnngh,” he groaned, rubbing the re-bruised flesh. After a few seconds, he saw a tall daisy bobbing in front of his muzzle. “Daisies always make me feel better,” she offered with a giggle. Big Macintosh blinked at her...then he smiled. Meanwhile, Twilight was analyzing the meticulous notes she made from behind a Granny Smith tree. A week had passed since the wayward bale incident, and Caramel had become a spectacle. The pall cast over him with the shoeing was the first challenge he had to face, which he did by using Big Macintosh as a volunteer for a demonstration on the steps of the town hall. Most everypony watched as he nudged and pushed and shoved and scratched and rubbed the big lug...and not a single bit of flesh was raised. The days of practicing basic touching with the shoes (plus something else...) had finally paid off, and the town was quite pleased, especially Twilight Sparkle. Then there was the matter of the strange cutie mark. Doctor Cardio had corresponded with him, explaining how he had a unique defect which was very, very basically described as an 'incomplete cutie mark'. As Caramel understood it, the lack of a fully defined talent forced the passive magic within him – as facilitated by pressure – to seek out the one clue it had and whatever else might be appropriate. Failing to find the second part of the talent, the loose magic exterminated itself, disintegrating whatever it touched. But once the second part was forced upon him, the talent was complete, and his internal magic flowed normally. The only curious part was how shoeing him did the trick instead of just touching a bar shoe, but then again he had never even seen one before that day in the office. The doctor suspected the shoeing was still necessary, but that went into different theories which both didn't interst him and revived memories of being force-fed speculation as a foal. He was just happy to be happy. All Caramel had to do was show the study Doctor Cardio published to the town at that gathering. Ponies seemed intensely aware of cutie marks for the next few days, some openly questioning if their talents were quite what they thought. The Cutie Mark Crusaders beamed the whole while; they were in their element for once. Finally, the memory of the stadium falling down had to be put behind everypony...but he actually made sure to take care of that first. The very first thing he did there was lay his shod hoof against the town hall's porous wood. It didn't even buckle. The crowd was completely still as Big Macintosh walked up to where the podium would have been. And that was that. Caramel had the attention of everypony and anypony from Ponyville and even of visitors from across Equestria, most of it being positive. The Equestrian Historian Society wasn't nearly as hair-raising as he thought it would be: they actually saw him as a living testament to part of the true, albeit unfortunate, foundation of pony society. Meanwhile, many ponies who were squeamish about his condition came forward to offer their sympathy (he decided it was better late than never). Fancy Pants also visited him again, nothing short of thrilled at how his old employee conquered his circumstances. They talked about the changes to Ponyville and Princess Celestia and hairstyles and Prince Blueblood and what it meant to be noticed. The cultists seemed to keep their distance, which was just as well. The demand to see him became so strong that when the mayor suggested he entertain them, his face lit up like a lantern. Proving himself to all those ponies was simply irresistible to him, so the area where the stadium once stood was restored to simple prairie with a couple of wooden bleachers like before. The Iron Pony Competition was reborn, and would take place in a week from this day: the day he bought his house. Applejack didn't get why she had to be blindfolded. She had seen the house before, after all. Sure, it had been turned into a bed-and-breakfast, then a businessponies' rendezvous, then a foreigners' shelter, then...a normal house again, she surmised. But apart from the odd sign fixed to the sides, it hadn't changed in looks at all over the months. It was strange, when she thought about it: it was situated just west of the town perimeter, so it was excellent for setting apart from other buildings. “Okayokayokay,” blathered Caramel. “You're gonna love this, you're gonna LOVE this! J-Just stand right there, good good. Okay...take it off!” Bracing herself for absolutely nothing, she took off the blindfold and opened her eyes. ...Whut? “...Wow. That's sure different.” She was looking at a two-story house given a complete facelift. The front and sides were freshly painted sky blue, and she could see the hint of dark red shingles for the roof. The brickwork for the porch and chimney was replaced, mixing the palette with purples and a hint of brown. New windows were installed, with charcoal grey windowsills. The woodwork was refinished and looking sturdy. And Caramel was bouncing nonstop on the porch, but his smile was surprisingly normal as opposed to the inane grin he had been showing for days on end. “Isn't it awesome?!,” said Caramel, the grin returned. “The best part is that it's mine! All mine! Hehehehehe!” “It looks brand new, Mel. Ah'm darn pleased fer you.” “Eeyup.” Applejack stifled a giggle. She just had to turn her head and look at her brother's glasses again. They looked very, very strange on him, especially with the end of his hair hanging over the bridge. The yoke around his neck and the single grass stem added to the surreality. “How're yer earpieces, big brother?” Big Macintosh said nothing. “They're great!”, answered Caramel, having finally stopped hopping. “I found that style when they were giving him the right prescription, and I just knew they were perfect. Doesn't he look amazing?!” “Uhh...yeah!”, humored Applejack. “He's a sight to behold!” Macintosh turned his head to her and mouthed: “I look ridiculous." She mouthed back: “Just wait it out." “I'm gonna go get the deed; wait right here!” And so Mel scurried into the house. The cowpony took a deep breath to get the crazy out of her head. As overexcited as Caramel was, it was nice to see something happy happen to him. All that doom and gloom hanging over his head disappeared like it was never there. And as exasperated as Big Mac was right then, she was willing to bet he was relieved. Everything was looking good for him, too...which make it worse for her to keep her secret. She had to find a way to tell him today. ...But he did seem troubled. She decided to help him lighten up. “Those lenses really aren't that bad, Big Mac,” she consoled. “Other ponies jus' gotta git used t'em, you know?” He rolled his eyes before saying: “Ah look like one o' 'em accountants. Ah'm not an accountant.” “Well, that's jus' a flat out lie,” she countered. “You've been countin' our revenue fer years now.” “Not with glasses.” Applejack mused on her brother: he seemed snarkier than usual. Maybe it was his colt's influence...? “An' Ah still say we should jus' git off th' grid an' be self-sufficient. You know...like real farmers.” Not this again... “You keep bringin' this up, an' you know whut mah answer is! Th' electromagical grid is whut gits us through th' winter! Not t'mention that's big talk fer somepony who runs up our heatin' bill bathin' his boyfriend.” It really was remarkable how much Big Mac could blush through that red hide fur. He adjusted his glasses. “Anyway,” redirected Applejack, “Ah'm glad yer somepony got somethin' o' his own, an' by himself, too. Ah don' think Ah've seen him so pleased an' not on meds!” “...Eeyup.” He still looked troubled...what was happening? “Somethin' wrong? Yer actin' out o' sorts today.” Big Mac gestured to the renovated house. “You know whut house this is?” “Huh? Sure Ah do. It's one o' th' nicer houses in Ponyville, been 'round fer a while.” “...It's his daddy's house. He bought th' house back.” “CORRECTION!”, bellowed Caramel from the porch. “This was my parents' old house. But they're gone, and I had money, so it's mine now. Here.” The loud pony picked the rolled document off the patio, holding it against one of the external supports. His name was signed at the bottom. As soon as her eyes met his, he rolled the deed back up and tossed it past the open door. “It's mine in deed and in truth. Think what you will, babe, this is my house and nothing more.” Applejack cringed. She detected lurking hostility in his voice but wasn't sure what to make of it. “So...this musta happened real fast fer me not t'notice it! Didja do all th' renovation yerself?” Caramel seemed puzzled before answering: “Oh, no, I didn't do all this. Applebloom fixed up the outside. I can't paint worth a bit, haha! But I suppose I could learn...” Ah. Come t'think o' it, where is that filly? Prolly too embarrassed t'show herself, silly thing. “Anyway, enough sunbathing! Come on in!” Adjusting her hat, she followed her brother up the patio and through the doorway. Once inside, she was pleasantly surprised at the pristine interior. Green paint decorated the walls and ceiling, being a little darker for the latter; the living room, also the first room, was spacious and spotless; the kitchen was spacious and well-equipped for cooking; mahogany stairs led up to the second floor; the temperature was balanced no matter where she stood; and the furniture suited the rooms in which they were placed. She saw no pictures, though. “Now I did most of this,” declared Mel smugly. “Re-wiring, furnishing, polishing, that was all me. Bloom offered to do it, but I took it as a chance to learn something new. And let me tell you: I'm glad I did! Lemme show you the upstairs.” Just before she complied, she spied her brother bowing his head. ...Hey, wait a minute! “Are you upset he decided t'move out?”, she asked calmly. Now that she thought about it, it seemed very sudden. “...Ah dunno,” he whispered. “It sorta makes sense, but...Ah cain't shake th' feelin' he's doin' it fer th' wrong reasons.” “Hey, come on!”, shouted Mel. “You'll like these bedrooms: they get a great view!” Mac shrugged, slowly cantering his way up the stairs. AJ followed with a lightly fluttering chest...she missed her chance again. The upstairs hallway was reminiscent of their own on the farm: an L-shaped accommodation for two minor bedrooms, a master bedroom, and a bathroom. Two windows on the left side overlooked the western ridge of the valley, prairie sprawling underneath. Like downstairs, the wood was polished and gave off a pine scent. “So here's the guest rooms, basically,” Caramel demonstrated with opening the doors to the minor bedrooms. “I thought I'd have one for casual visits and one in case I have to host somepony important; you never know.” The first room described had a warm yellow color on the walls, with books and games arranged in a cabinet as well as a nightstand. The second room was more striking in black streaked with light grey, containing a simple writing desk and a chair. Both had a twin sized bed. “And the master bedroom...”, teased Caramel as he opened the door. “I have plans for this room, buddy of mine.” Applejack looked to Big Mac: he was making the weirdest face. It was like he was trying to frown and smile at the same time. “If you think you'll miss our little safe spots, just wait until you try it here: the room's just the right temperature for it. Plenty of furniture options, too!” “Um, Mel...?”, interrupted Applejack. She felt a profound blush herself now. “...Plenty of options to sit and rest. Yes. And it's great for falling asleep at night. S-Speaking of which, I'm going to be staying here for at least a week.” “Do whut?”, said Big Mac. “Well, you can join me if you like...”, said Caramel, “but I'll definitely sleep here for a while. I didn't plan on this being just an empty house. At the very least, it'll be good for entertaining guests. And who knows? Maybe you could...um...” Big Mac coughed, and Applejack felt her chest flutter again. This was really starting to bother her. “Anyway, the bathroom's over there, the clock's behind you, and now you've seen everything upstairs,” Mel finished with a shaky grin. Tick. Tock. “So...whaddya think?!” She heard Big Mac's glasses click as he adjusted them. He was blinking frequently, fumbling with the earpieces until it slipped from his hoof. Mel caught it effortlessly. “Careful with those, babe! Those weren't cheap.” Mac slowly slipped them back on as he mumbled: “Nnope.” “...It's a purdy set-up, Mel,” graded the other Apple. “Ah admit Ah don' git why 'zactly you wanted t'buy a house, but you picked handsomely.” “Eeyup!”, said Caramel. “Glad you like it. Oh, oh! Be right back!” He dashed into the master bedroom and came back with a small tub on his head. It had a shoe painted on it. “Fancy Pants gave it to me: clear horseshoe polish! Apparently, it's used for the throwing game in Canterlot, but he had a spare one since he quit playing. It's just perfect. These babies are gonna shine!”, he illustrated with a hoof stuck out into the streaming sunlight. Applejack coughed. “They sure will,” she offered helplessly. She forced herself to watch as the grin on Mel's face slowly fell into a wan smile, and then a soft frown. She hated how awkward she was being...but consarnit, it was an awkward situation. “Is something wrong? Maybe you don't like the colors I picked?” He moved to set the tub back down in the master bedroom. “N-No, it's nothing like that,” rebutted Applejack. “It's that...well, why'd you buy a house in th' first place?” “...Oh,” said Caramel, his smile returning as he returned. “I implied it from before, but this house is important to me because it's where I grew up. I kinda wanted to reclaim it. Not to mention it's just nice to have a place of my own.” Well, that seems reasonable...Ah guess. Reclaimin' th' past is somethin' Ah wish Ah could do lately. “Ah gotcha,” she reassured with her own smile. “You've really made somethin' o' yerself, Mel. Congratulations.” “...Eeyup!”, said Big Mac. He sounded a little forced. Mel grinned, but it was a good grin this time, from nothing but happiness. “You two...”, he began as he hugged them both, “are just so awesome. I'm not cutting ties or anything, but I just have to say thank you so much. Especially you, babe. You put up with me beautifully.” Slowly but surely, her brother's face grew into that smile she knew so well. He was going to be fine, she just knew it. “It wuz no problem, Mel. Ah love you.” “I love you, too.” They pecked each other. Flutter. “W-Well, Ah should git goin', you two,” declared Applejack. “Happy house, Mel!” “Thanks again, AJ! See you at the orchard tomorrow!” “Roger that!” She walked down the stairs, out the front door, and out in front of the house. She wasn't keen on any developments actually occurring in front of her. It hit too close to home. This is gettin' ridiculous. Ah hafta tell him. As if on cue, her brother came out of the house by himself. He caught up to her and matched her pace back home. It had to be now. “Big brother?” “Hmm?” “You know how Ah pester you t'tell me if'n yer upset? Well...Ah'm gonna take mah own pesterin' an' ask you somethin'.” The spectacled pony squinted at her. It couldn't have been from nearsightedness. “'Kay. Shoot.” “...'Zit normal t'not be able t'fall in love?” Late that night, the faucet in Caramel's house dripped slightly. Drip, drip, drip. The water falling down was clean and pure, unbound and mindless...until then. The droplets started pooling at the faucet head, growing and shaping themselves into a flawed head. The head fell halfway to the sink as the water grew a thin neck, thinner arms, and a torso. The torso fed water to the rest of the body steadily, all of it growing and growing...It grew slits for eyes, and a mouth to speak. “We will make everything...” The new form failed, splashing into the sink. Caramel woke up with a start. He thought he heard a water balloon bursting or something similar. Blinking, he took in the sight around him: nothing had changed. He was still in his old room, restored more or less to its former state. He felt pathetic doing it, but it was something he had to face. He stopped sleeping in there the last night that he could stay in the house. Hoof steps echoed in his head, the memory of that night fully revived and bleeding pain. He had followed his father outside of the house, demanding an explanation. All he got for a response was a whisper in his left ear: “You're grown now. You'll make do.” He was helplessly rooted as the pony walked away. The bed-and-breakfast ponies would set up tomorrow...and his father had left him there. He couldn't stay there...so he didn't; he slept behind the abandoned library. He made do. Caramel groaned weakly as he laid down on the bed again. He spied the horseshoe polish on the nightstand. Pfft. Who needed him? He had a life to live, for once. He yawned and lulled himself back to sleep.
Shine All FourCelestia's sun gently woke Caramel from a surprisingly restful sleep. Fully recovered from his self-pity, he recollected his plan for the day: he was finally going to buck apples after so many years of grieving that he couldn't. But first things first! He had to present himself properly. Placing his right front hoof on the tub of polish, he unscrewed the top fearlessly, savoring each centimeter it raised and spun. The lid fell to the nightstand, throughly defeated and yielding to the victor. No melting labels, no running paint, and no broken container. It really was the little things sometimes. He pulled out a rough yellow rag. Collecting some of the cool, transparent gel, he grabbed the rag with hoof and mouth on each end and rubbed it slowly (but thoroughly) against his shod hooves. It tickled a little, as if the nails were being rubbed as well. One shoe, then the next, then the next to last, and then the bar shoe. After the last polish, he wiped the residue off the shoes with the other side of the rag. He walked out to the hallway window to admire his work: the metal was glimmering in the early morning sunlight. Time to go to work. He was giving himself a raise today! The first apples finally became ripe, and so he and Big Macintosh stood in front of their main objective as mid-morning stretched over the valley. Applejack seemed preoccupied with something, so Caramel volunteered to take her place for the harvest. She did seem a bit lackadaisical, though... Meh. If it was important, it would be brought up later. He was far too anxious about this to distract himself. He made a note to remember exactly where the carts stood, getting a silent thrill at finally being able to pull one without getting winded or ruining the harness. His beautiful stud cleared his throat. Merely thinking about it boggled his mind: the strongest, handsomest stallion known for miles and miles was his to boast. Not that he had to; just looking at the truth of the matter spoke volumes. Said strongest, handsomest stallion neglected to wear his glasses, though. Caramel supposed the occasion didn't require them, so he decided not to nag him just this once. “Ah suppose we'll start with those two sections, circle 'round, and meet up in th' middle. We can buck th' rest tomorrow.” Hehehehehe... “Tomorrow, you say?”, teased the horseshoe twirler. “I don't think that'll be necessary. The two of us should have it done by lunchtime!” He turned his head, relishing the exasperated face Mac was pulling. It was all too perfect. “We're not super-ponies, babe, even with yer...enhancement. Ah don' care how strong you think we are, we cain't git through all o' that,” Mac illustrated with a sweeping hoof to the entire ripe part of the orchard, “in jus' two hours.” “Oooooh, I dunnooooo...”, sang Caramel. “I'm willing to bet it's feasible. In fact...I'm willing to bet I can do it all by myself!” According to plan, Mac looked completely unamused. It was almost time...he aimed his shot carefully while increasing rotation speed. He was lucky the route was so simple. You and me, old Cheerilee. It's gonna be great! “You listen t'me, Caramel,” announced Big Macintosh. “One pony plus hundreds of apple trees--” “GO!” A silver blur rocketed from his hoof. CLANG, CLANG, CLANG, CLANG, CLANG, CLANG... Twenty seconds later... ...CLANG, CLANG, CLANG, CLANG! Caramel caught the rebounding horseshoe. It left behind dozens of baskets filled with apples – from McIntosh to Red Delicious to whatever else that row held – as well as several dozen quivering trees. Cheerilee twirled innocently around his left front leg until he planted it ends-first in the ground. “Jus'...doesn't add up...” Caramel grinned the stadium grin. It made perfect sense to him now, embracing the freedom to be as proud as he wanted. He had certainly earned it. “How do you like them apples, babe? Purdy good, huh?” “...E-Eeyup. C-Caramel?” Huh. I was expecting speechless, but I guess sputtering makes sense, too. “Yeah?” “T-Tell me somethin'. Could you do that before?” Ah. He supposed it would come up at some point but not that soon. It wasn't like it hadn't bothered him the first time he thought of it, just that...oh, what did it matter now?! “Not really,” he answered. “I didn't have that much control before. But thanks to these babies--” He clopped the front horseshoes together. They made the most beautiful sound every time he did that, ringing loud and clear even for numb ears. “--I can make them do pretty much whatever I want! But within reason, of course. I couldn't clear out the ripened orchard in one throw, that would be ridiculous.” “Nnope...” Caramel sniffed the rich aroma around him. This was such a perfect day and opportunity to get the track-and-field champion wrapped around his hoof. Mac smelled even more like apples than usual, that sweet scent mixing with sweat – it sent chills down his spine. Of course, he needed more of the second ingredient. “...At least, I don't think I could,” he crooned, strutting circles around his opponent. “I've never tried it.” He looked at Mac: the lug actually looked nervous! With the glasses, it would have been perfect. Oh well. He enjoyed Mac turning head each time to keep Mel in sight, a simple expression of the power he had taken. It was the most adorable thing. “W-Well, we cain't know now, can we? N-Nnope...” Oh, this couldn't be more perfect if it tried. You're mine, Mr. “Shoes-not-Horseshoes”. “Eh, you're right,” Mel admitted insincerely as he started walking over to the next row of the ripe apples. “It's too late to test.” “E-Eeyup, heh heh!" “It's just as well. It would be so embarrassing to hear how the strongest Apple was bested at his own game...” Bad Caramel. What you're doing is wrong...but so worth it! He heard a pronounced snort behind him. The ground shook from the impact of his boyfriend's hooves. He was sure he heard apples fall into baskets. Uh oh. “Keep dreamin', little horse,” shouted Big Macintosh. “Ah cain't be beat here.” “Oh yeah?”, shouted Caramel as Cheerilee twirled again. “Well, bring it, sister's boy!” The ground shook again, and more apples fell subserviently to the ground. Caramel actually saw a few miss the baskets underneath the trees. “Oh, you done ASKED fer it now!” Twenty minutes later, the third of the orchard slated for harvest was completely freed of apples. The filled baskets were now sorted at the stockpiles, both racers trying to gain the advantage as they rushed back and forth to get them there. Small cracks ran across the ground, some dotted with ruined flesh from errant apples. Rows and rows of green-leaved trees sat undisturbed now, offering shade for the former competitors as they rested on their stomachs side by side. Big Macintosh sighed: Caramel felt so warm and sweaty, and Caramel smelled very good. “That...”, said Caramel once he stopped panting, “was a blast. These trees were singing once we were done with 'em!” “Eeyup.” Mac surveyed the scene: he had put all of himself into racing his little horse, pounding the poor earth in his furious energy. Even at the Stallions' Cup, he wasn't that fixated on winning; ambition came pouring out of him like it was always there. It wasn't just competing, he liked winning. ...And he felt fine with that. He shouldn't have felt fine with that; it was poor conduct that made him feel dirty in the worst way. But he did. As gut-wrenching as that day was, the cheers of the crowd made him feel as light as air, giving him a taste for wild praise. And here was his biggest fan, head inflated to three times its size with arrogance. Speaking of which... “...Ah still say Ah won,” he said with a sneer. “Oh, come off it! Those apples fell practically at the same time; I say let's just call it a draw.” Mac replayed in his mind the last seconds before they ran to cart the apples: a swift stomp into the ground and the last rebounds of that one damn throw had the Yellow Delicious tumbling too quickly to observe. He seriously considered getting a judge for the next two thirds of the orchard. “Hells, if anything, I probably won for carting half of them.” “Whut?! Ah carted jus' as much as you, an' in better time!” “Well, that's just because for one, you have years of experience--” “An' don' you forget it.” Did Ah jus'...? Well, so much fer bein' high an' mighty. “--And for another, you should spot me some points for being a lightweight.” “Oh, don' be absurd.” “I can't haul as much as you! It's impressive that I could even keep up.” Caramel was right. It was frightening how much stronger he had gotten in such a short time; Big Macintosh had to keep his eyes forward while pulling the cart just to keep from being unnerved. “We weren't even keepin' score!” “Not this time, that's true...maybe we should start scoring ourselves when we compete?” Oh, skies above. If'n you start scorin' our private time, Ah quit. “We'll just have to get Twilight or one of 'em to do it for the rest of the orchard,” stated Caramel with the Grin. Oh. Ah guess silly ponies think alike. The Grin was starting to seriously tick him off, especially since he suspected he did it just as often. But when he looked at the grinning madpony, he didn't exactly feel guilty anymore. He had found a rival to match him step for step, and that felt weirder than those confounded eyepieces making his nose itch. A rival with an inflated, swollen ego... Pop. “H-Hey, cut it out!”, protested Mel with clearly false anger. “I'm still a little dizzy, gimme some time before poking my head, heh heh. I don't have your stamina yet, big guy.” ...Yet? You seriously expect ta – oh Ah see now. Feelin' th' grind, huh? “Nnope.” “Blunt as usual,” said Caramel before rolling against him on the right side. “Give me a few more days and I'll be your equal, just you wait. I'm stoked for it! Those ponies will be beside themselves!” But in a week? You shoulda made it in a month or somethin'! If yer really gonna try that, yer gonna wear yerself down! Exercise t'ain't some magic potion; it won't bulk you up in that short 'mount o' time, or at th' very least not without consequences. You jus' got drunk on th' attention like Ah did, you silly pony, an' now yer payin' fer it. Why ain't Ah sayin' this out loud, consarnit, Ah don' wanna hurt yer feelin's. Damn that Grin. ...An' you cain't git t'my level o' stamina, Mr. Lightweight. Not a chance, but it'd be nice if'n you could. You an' me, neck an' neck all th' way...Ah wouldn't hafta hold back. An' Ah hate t'think it, but that master bedroom really did look good, oh pony stop it deep breaths deep breaths not while his daddy's still alive. Oh shoot, he's lookin' at me, say somethin', anythin'! “Eeyup.” Heh heh...smooth. “...You really think so?” Caramel sounded surprisingly worried. “You think I can do it?” Tell him tell him tell him quit bein' so wishy washy an' be honest fer once! Whut's wrong with you, Macintosh?! T'ain't like you hold back on other issues! Spit it out an' git it over with! “...Eeyup,” he answered with a smile. Moron! Ah...Ah jus' cain't crush him again, even though Ah kinda need ta. Skies above, jus' seein' those eyes light up makes me weak...oh Celestia it's that smile, Ah'm meltin', Ah'm meltin' right into th' ground Ah've missed you Caramel Ah love you so much. “You...you are so beautiful, babe. I mean with everything, you helped me out of that barn, you were so patient with me--” Ah yelled at you, Ah gave you grief, Ah threatened you an' yer dad, even though he has it comin'...oh don' start cryin' you know whut it does t'me! “--you worried about me when I should have worried about myself, you got my life together...you were just awesome for the whole thing, thank you so much Mac, I love you more than anything...!” And that was it. Mac couldn't stay reserved anymore, rolling to his side and pulling Mel to him greedily. He had forgotten everything but his soul pressed against him, entangled in his limbs like he had actually raced to win the sweet little beige pony of his dreams. “Ah-Ah love you too...Ah jus' want you t'be happy, Ah love you so much baby.” He saw Mel smile like the sun, drinking in the sight before they both abandoned words and nuzzled each other. He felt himself melding to the ground, not wanting to move an inch in case it all shattered. All he could do was rest against Mel for however long as each breath pressed them together. The roller coaster had finally stopped. Mel's hair was actually wet now, sticking to Mac's hide at the ends. To think it could have been like this so much sooner...well, that was what he got for being a dummy. But eventually, the sweaty hair made him itch, so he sat up and shivered as the shoes dropped away from him, letting the summer air rush over his sides. Those damn things had changed both of them so severely that it was hard to picture life before that doctor's visit. He still hated them a little. Mel looked nothing but content with them, though. “Am sorry fer grievin' you 'bout th' shoes. Ah know it wuz petty, you jus' hafta understand--” “It-It's okay,” interrupted Mel, taking a deep breath. “You were just protecting me, and that's why I love you.” “...Really?” “Mmhmm!” Mel pecked him. You put me through hell, little colt. But it wuz sure worth it. “That, and you're just amazing.” Mac pecked the pretty pony back, nibbling the left ear as a response. No matter how many times he did it, it always enthralled him to Mel in spite of anything else. He craved the shudders underneath him; he teased the supple flesh mindlessly, effortlessly; and the cool shoes brushed against him, never failing to agonize his vigor. But it felt different now, shadowed with a hint of...shame? Maybe he was forgetting something important? He opened one eye to scan the area: cracks in the ground would be hard to hide. That was the reason he never did it before. But he supposed some loose soil would mitigate it all. He moved on to clench Caramel's lower neck...only to feel that twinge again. Now what the hells could it be? He looked Caramel over – being sure to linger on certain parts – but there were no bruises or anything from the teeth marks. He looked at the trees, but they were fine. The carts were where they needed to be; Applejack could take care of herself; the skies were blue; and the iron was hot! So what was bothering him so much?! He knew he had to discover it before he lost his nerve...and before it became too serious. Mel pulled away from him with a sly smile. At least he wasn't disturbed by phantom guilt; that would be the last thing he needed. He had just gotten the little horse to smile from emotion not linked to posturing or painkillers or those freaky shoes or...well, that didn't count. But why the sly smile? That wasn't the usual signal, so it just confused-- “Hey, I'm hungry. Wanna get some daisies? Junebug should have a whole bunch by now.” Daisies? “...Umm...” Caramel wanted daisies? After all of those apples they just harvested? Junebug? That didn't seem right somehow; why would Caramel want...daisies? “S-sure, we can do that.” “Great! I've had a hankering for a while, let's go!” Big Macintosh felt butterflies in his stomach as they got up and headed for town. He was forgetting something, something subtle. Junebug and daisies, Caramel and apples, white daisies, red apples, oranges, orange and white and beige... He gulped. Bullseye. Caramel woke up the next morning in the master bedroom. He sighed at the lack of Big Macintosh, still unable to convince him to sleep there. The bed was ridiculously big compared to the midget of his old room, but it was also ridiculously comfortable with the satin sheets on which he had splurged. In any case, he had to get up; but he first made a sad farewell to the grey bedsheet which kept him so deliciously warm. As he got up, the Iron Pony Competition occurred to him. More or less the same events would be hosted, the only real difference being the structure of the contendership. Instead of two ponies fighting for supremacy, several different ponies would compete against him in what was their top field. He supposed some of them would be competing with their special talents. But his own talent was so flexible and expansive now that it seemed like his talent was adapting to different demands. Did he have an unfair advantage? Well, it was all in good fun. If he won, he won; if he lost, he lost. The point was to show how he was perfectly functional anyway. He unscrewed the lid and shined his shoes, being sure not to miss a single spot. Tugging on the rag, he dragged the polish across the metal with care until the horseshoes were gleaming like the morning before. It was a shame how they got so dirty so quickly, but no way to avoid it was workable...unfortunately. He just made sure to make them shine as much as possible, savoring the moment's flickering sunlight. He fixed his hair. He was really beginning to like the hanging strands for what they were. Time to go to school. It was just study hall, though. Cheerilee had agreed to fill some gaps in Caramel's knowledge over the weekend, even though the conversation leading to that was enlightening in and of itself. It seemed his leaving school early motivated her to take over the school once Bully Pulpit retired: she felt that if she had to be disappointed about not being able to help him, then she didn't have to be for the next generation. He named his favorite horseshoe after her just because she was nicer to him than most, but now it seemed all the more appropriate. “...And that's why ground-to-cloud lightning is really just a theory. If it actually happened, who knows what kind of mayhem it would have caused the founders of Pegasopolis?” He suppressed a sigh. “Doctorspeak” was apparently not exclusive to doctors. He squirmed on the one stool in the classroom, refusing to get into the students' chairs. It made no difference that Cheerilee made no preference; he wouldn't be caught in an embarrassing position like that for any reason. That, and it brought back bad memories which already flooded his head. “Well, that's all about history I can think of from the top of my head,” said Cheerilee with a giggle. “Any questions you have for me?” Questions, questions...I can't think of anything. I always just asked about something whenever it came up, you should remember that about me from school. It's just not...hmm. Well, technically it IS a question. “Just one,” said Caramel. “Excellent!” She was beaming like old Pulpit. “What is it?” “How come you and Big Mac didn't work out? I-I know it might be touchy or just old news, but...well, I'm curious.” Cheerilee seemed a little peeved, which he expected. But she wasn't peeved enough to not answer, even pulling out a lock of dirty blonde hair from her desk. She considered it with a frown, and then she put it back with the other teacher things. Caramel imagined the hapless lock laying next to an opened box of chalk, constantly at risk of getting covered in the throat-clogging powder. He berated himself for getting sad over something so ridiculous. “He and I...”, she trailed off while pacing the room, “we never understood each other. I wanted one thing, he wanted another thing, that sort of thing. We really liked each other at first, but in the end, we just weren't compatible. So there's really nothing to say about it,” she finished lackadaisically. He peered carefully at her face, looking for any betrayal of emotion. She seemed genuine, but something still rang false to him...He figured it wouldn't hurt to ask. “Why weren't you two compatible, then?”, he pressed. “Wanting different things isn't a deal breaker, after all.” My relationship is proof of that more than anything, sheesh. “...I'm not sure how to describe it,” she admitted. “I-I guess you could say we wanted a certain relationship at the time, but neither of us really knew what that was. We wanted to be together, but not to be obligated to each other, if that makes sense. It doesn't, does it...?" “...Actually, I can kinda understand that. At least a little.” Caramel thought of the bubble gum mare he sought of his own will. He certainly didn't want any obligation to her, just...something. Something that wasn't 'being lonely'. Caramel inspected his shoes: still bright, but they were irritatingly scuffed. Some way to avoid that needed to be invented soon. Perhaps he could commission an inventor to make anti-scuff polish, or a permanent no-scuff spell? Wait, no, he had to focus, he had to focus. “Not to mention,” Cheerilee continued with an awkward tone, “the whole potion mess reminded us of how much we didn't make sense together. I suppose...I suppose the best way to put it is we both felt like we should have been together, even though there was nothing between us for real love.” Cheerilee giggled before adding: “Yes, I believe that's the answer. Love can sure mess with a pony's head!” Mel considered his own obligations. All he really wanted from himself was to do well in life and not have anypony worrying over him. The latter was proven to be difficult, but he did his best to minimize any grief he had given Big Macintosh. Really, he did. He did as much as he could! Putting the pony over himself in every situation, except maybe for the shouting matches...and the shoeing...and the house buying... No problem, not at all! Once the Iron Pony Competition is over, I'll hold up my end of the bargain. I won't be a leech anymore, not for anypony in anyway! New life, new autonomy! It's time to give back, time to-- “WOULDJA LISTEN T'ME, CARAMEL?!” “IT WASN'T ME!”, yelped Caramel at the sound of Applejack's voice. It wasn't him? What in the hells did he mean by that? “It wasn't you? Whut in tarnation do you mean by that?!” He instantly flashed back to his days as a foal when he hid report cards from his parents and forgot about them. He was still puzzled by how they seemed to forget as well; maybe they didn't want to see them either? All he could do now was try his best to collect his thoughts and calm himself. Applejack wouldn't think less of him for taking time; he told himself that with each inhale, in and out, in and out. “Sorry about that. I was just caught off guard; I haven't done anything except listen to Cheerilee. You need something?” Upon his own mentioning of Cheerilee, he was struck dumb at her vanishment. Had he been zoned out for so long that she left? And why did he feel so sleepy despite not having fallen asleep? “Look at me, Mel.” Mel complied, keeping focused on her. The last free thought he had was how the schoolhouse seemed to make his thoughts fly freely. “Ah jus'...wanted t'tell you Big Mac has gone t'Canterlot t'chat with yer doctor 'bout yer surgery. He won't be back until sometime in th' afternoon, maybe not even 'till supper.” Mac with Doctor Cardio...why does that make me uneasy? “Speaking o' which,” she added with a sudden smile, “you didn't hafta stop comin' by jus' cuz' you moved out. So long as yer not moochin', yer absolutely welcome t'eat with us, make no mistake.” Caramel felt himself smiling like a big dope. Eeyup, it really was the little things sometimes. “Oh, I know,” he said as he got off the stool. “I was actually hoping to come by tonight. I just wish he had told me he was leaving...” Applejack blanched. Why did she blanch? Did it have to do with how depressed she looked yesterday, maybe? “O-Oh, it was all o' a sudden,” she said after too long of a pause. “You know how it is: sometimes, you jus' gotta git up an' do somethin' t'do it. In th' meantime, Pinkie's gatherin' ponies fer a roller coaster party. Whut did she call it? Uh...A Roly-Pony Ricochet Riot. Ah gotta admit, th' slogan got me interested.” “Hmm...”, mused Caramel. “I never got to try the one in Canterlot, so I guess it'd be nice to finally ride one! I'm there. By the way, are you okay?” Oh yeeeeeah, real smooth. Idiot. “Um...”, stammered Applejack, “Whaddya mean? 'Course Ah'm fine. Ah'm jus' peachy, haha!” He felt painfully aware of how warm the room was as Mac's sister fiddled with her hat. One-on-one speeches and speeches for massive crowds just didn't sit well with him. But he doubted he would get anywhere with her anyway, if her sad eyes were any indication. “You're lying...but if you really don't wanna tell me, I can't make you. I just hope it's not serious.” Applejack lying...so much has changed, even you. Look at you fidget, it's a farcry from a tiny filly telling on me for messing with a plough harness. Great skies above, we're all grown, that's scary. “...Thank you,” she said after a few ticks and tocks. “Ah don' mean nothin' by not tellin' you, it's jus'--” “Eh,” he rebutted with a hoof wave. “I trust you, and I know what it's like not wanting to tell something to anypony. You'd tell me if Ah needed t'know, right?” Just like that, her eyes lit up and color returned to her face, even though most of it was red. “Now where'd you git that there fancy accent, pardner?” Mel loftily brushed his hair back as he intoned: “Why, it's just the cosmopolitan way, dahling.” AJ giggled. At least she thought he was funny. “Come on. Pinkie's not th' waitin' type.” “No, no she's not.” And so he galloped with her to the amusement park, restored by popular demand and Fancy Pants' generosity. He tried a roller coaster for the first time. It was absolutely amazing. He went five more times, vowing to work out extra hard once he was done. He wanted to ride one with Mac next time, if for no other reason than to see the faces the big lug would make. Was Mac wearing his glasses at the doctor's office? “You cain't tell me you handled that professionally. You put mah little pony through a right hell from a fright, an' Ah'll grant it wuz a mighty fright, bless his heart. But if Ah had half a brain, Ah'd haul yer rear t'court. An' mah brain's full.” Doctor Whutshisname sighed deeply. Truthfully, Big Macintosh couldn't make heads or tails of the court system, so he was just blowing hot air. But the sweaty pony didn't have to know that. Caramel could probably put it together, but that one was just too forgiving for the wrong ponies...Just hearing the incident described made him want to hug Mel and lock him in a box where it wouldn't happen again. If it wasn't one pony hurting him, it was another, it seemed. If'n she told him Ah came here...Ah don' think Ah could handle bein' that angry. Haha, who'm Ah kiddin'? She ain't th' type. His glasses still made his nose itch. But they made him feel smarter, so he brought them along. They helped him see the doctor's facial expressions better, too. Right then, sweat and stretched eyebrows formed a textbook cringe. “That-that was a panic situation, sir. We needed to ensure the nails were set or he would have lost too much blood. If you were there--” “Ah recall you mentionin' th' possibility of 'em bein' rejected with th' painkiller. Are you implyin' you had no contingency plan t'deal with that? Even a farm pony can tell that ain't how medicine is done.” In that moment, he considered going over the judicial process one last time to see if he could file a suit after all. But Mel would object to it, and that was a fight he didn't want to have. If Mel didn't want to defend himself, there was little he could do about it...At least he could make the doctor suffer and use fancy words like 'impunity' with impunity. ...Wait. What did that joker say? Caramel woke up late the next day feeling depressed. As soon as his meaningless dream faded beyond recognition, he reflected on the disappointing dinner at the Apples. They were all courteous and friendly except for Mac, who was inexplicably silent. He didn't want to say anything because it was fundamental for Mac to be silent...but it had a different energy to it. Caramel felt like Big Macintosh was being silent to him. Did something happen in Canterlot? He thought about the fuzzy 'mishap', but every time resulted in no new insight; this was no exception. The only possible insight was Mac himself, but the irritating lug just played with that ratty old doll. It was the first time he saw – what name did Mac give it?...whatever – at the dinner table. Mel just ate his dinner and glanced at the two playing pretend. He felt like an unwelcome guest. But another day was another opportunity. Caramel swung his legs over the side of the master bed to shine his murky-looking horseshoes, wincing as the metal grazed the wooden frame. He reached with his left front hoof to grab the rag, which caught and ripped on the shoe itself. After taking a deep breath, he carefully removed the rag and even more carefully applied the polish. He felt lightheaded as he made sure to avoid the uneven nail and any other plausible offenders. Time to eat. He had to stop skipping breakfast; it was becoming a bad habit. Furnishing the house with food felt...lonely, so he decided to leave well enough alone until Macintosh moved in with him. In the meantime, he was fine with picking up odd meals from the market or mooching off the Apples. He tried to pay Applejack for lunch at one point, but she threw a fit over it. At least he made the effort. This morning, he decided to get some pears; he hadn't had a good pear in such a long time. The market was now void of the usual shoppers, having left earlier. This was the one section of Ponyville that was completely restored after the elitist takeover...it was a heartsick revelation to him every time he saw it, without fail. “That'll be ten bits per pear, sir,” said the salespony. “Hahahaha!”, guffawed Caramel. “You're funny, come on, what are they really?” “Ten bits. I'm not one for jokes.” Caramel stopped ruffling through the bits in his saddlebag. He had enough in that storehouse on the farm to buy out the pear stand for several months, maybe even longer. The bulge in said saddlebag was just noticeable to the untrained eye, while highly noticeable to a sleazepony. Uh-huh. “Tell you what,” answered Caramel. “I've noticed your supply is still flush after the morning rush. I'll take all five of these pears for three bits, and you'll be thankful that I bought even one.” The salespony nonchalantly looked askance to the pear crates. Something about the gaze made the haggler nervous about Winona guarding the storehouse. Theft wasn't a common crime in Ponyville, but he was seriously considering throwing those bits into a bank. Perhaps he'd group them with the majority of his wealth Fancy Pants insisted on storing in Canterlot for safekeeping. His utilities were being charged directly to that account anyway; he'd just take out a yearly budget for food and whatnot. Yeah. It would work out well enough... All those strangers milling around the town with fat pouches and strange visions for the future: he was one of them. Even when he was a foal, he was never one of them. For a sick second, he found himself missing the old barn. Being a rich pony felt too weird. “...Sir? I said you can have them. Take them before I change my mind.” “Huhwha?” “Oh, Caramel!”, giggled a mare. “Cheerilee said you were spacey lately, and she wasn't kidding!” Caramel shook himself lucid to see Junebug collecting the pears and dropping them into his saddlebag. He paid the salespony without taking his eyes off her. She had her usual smile and her own saddlebag of morning glories. They smelled freshly cut; she smelled sweet. And he felt uncomfortable around her for some reason. Anxious, hot, and even irritated. She was sickeningly sweet, wasn't she? He had never noticed it before, but...yes! Yes, she really was! “Yeah. Spacey...thanks for your help. So what're you doing here?” “Oh, this and that,” she answered in that cackling baby voice. “It's a nice day to get errands done. Anyway, it's great that I bumped into you!” Oh, joy. “Why's that, then?” He really hoped he wasn't broadcasting his evil thoughts through his face. She and he started walking away, which soothed his nerves a little. Before turning the corner, he was sure he heard the merchant mumble something like “cutie mark freak” before doing whatever. At least that pony was almost honest; and who could blame him, really? At times, he thought he could feel the three blue horseshoes pulling against the bar shoe, locking it into place like a prisoner. If that wasn't freaky, then what was? “Well, it's funny really. I was talking to Big Mac early this morning, and he had the weirdest question for me. I was wondering if...” Why's she talking with him? I guess a flower mare's gotta socialize, but why him? He barely looked me in the eye yesterday...just focused on that ugly doll. “..it's just I think you would be better at helping him with it. It's a guy question, after all...I think. Come to think of it, I don't know why he didn't ask you first.” She sounded confused. He liked that for some reason. “Huh. Okay, what's the question?” “...You okay, Caramel?”, asked Junebug with a frown. “You've been kinda curt with me.” “O-Oh, it's nothing,” he answered with a sincere blush. “I just woke up on the wrong side of bed, don't mind me.” Maybe that's all it really is...yeah. I like morning glories, really I do. They smell like Mom; they shouldn't be irritating me, nor should she. “O-Okay,” said the flower mare. “He asked me if it was natural for a stallion to fall in love with another stallion. Like I said, I have no idea why he asked me. He seemed really anxious about it, though...” ...What? “What?” Junebug shrugged. “It's not the sort of thing I really think about, either. I think you should talk to him, though, before he gets too wound up about it.” And why the hells would you know how he gets wound up, stop it STOP IT geez Caramel... Wait, no! Why did he ask her that and not me?! I could actually answer that question...once I've thought about it a bit. It's just...it's just stupid! It's asinine! It's underhoofed! It...it hurts. He confided in her instead of me. Is he trying to tell me something with this? Caramel looked at Junebug's worried face. Stallions and mares, stallions without mares, morning glories, trust and intimacy, blush-red and sun-yellow and beige... Pfft. That was ridiculous; the whole thing was ridiculous! Mel was letting the other day confuse his thoughts. He needed to get away from her and clear his head. “I'll have to think about it, Junebug,” he answered. “In the meantime, I really need to get pumped for the contest. See you later!” He galloped with his pears away from the marketplace, horseshoes pounding against the ground. They were getting dirty, but he was going home to shine them again anyway. Caramel was not going to be caught with filthy hooves on the day of the competition, or preferably anytime that mattered. “Okay, see you!”, she said with a wave. I'd rather you didn't. “I'll leave it up to you, AJ. Use them wisely.” “Okay, Twi...take care, now.” Applejack watched helplessly as Twilight trotted back toward the library. She was left with a letter addressed to Dr. Cardio, not wanting to think about the contents at the moment. The sunlight was shining harshly in her eyes, and she needed to clear her mind again. No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't ignore it anymore. From Rick Shaw to Ace to Cheerilee to Ivy to her best friends to even the dregs of snobbery...it was all the same to her, just differently colored boulders. But why? She paced around the thrice-organized shipment of apples destined for Fillydelphia as she remembered the Cakes. When she was little, they always seemed like the ideal of relationships next to her parents: calm, measured, warm, meaningful, long-lasting, involved, and productive. To this day, she saw them as paragons of livelihood. But nothing had changed as she had grown. It still seemed like a fuzzy dream, something worth pursuing yet unpursuable. No matter how hard she tried, she just wasn't interested in ponies that way...and she knew that because she was sure other ponies didn't have to try. Not a flush, not a flutter, not even a flicker in her eye led her to love that way or to desire the rite of progeny. But why?! Big Mac couldn't give her an answer! It wasn't a problem, or at least not until now. She did what every Apple did: she worked the farm and sorted out as many problems as could have been sorted, especially during all the hullabaloo in the spring. But with all the drastic change came subtler changes. Pinkie Pie had found her somepony; her brother grew enough courage to seek his own out; Twilight had finally found her flicker; and Spike would never be the same. As much as everything flipped on its head and everypony transformed from the inside out, she had stayed the same. It was to protect the farm, to stave off the delusioned Oranges...or so she thought. Once it was all over, all she had to claim was what she had claimed before: a family pony, a business leader, and a delegate to tentative deals. She was a family pony without a family of her own, and it scared the daylights out of her. Applejack took to watching other relationships, looking for some secret to bring her flicker to life. Each relationship had its own quirks and rules and expectations to be ployed and sometimes exploited. She knew every trick there was to make or break lovers' bonds. But tricks and rules didn't inspire her to seek it out for herself. They all looked like passion-sick kooks throwing all of themselves to the wind, hoping for somepony to catch them blindly. Even the happiest and calmest of couples – even the Cakes – seemed part of something alien. She had absolutely no idea what to do now. None. ...Ah guess Ah should investigate these letters. If'n Twi thought they were important 'nuff t'be read, then Ah should trust her. Ah'll jus' skip past th' numbers an' junk here-- ...and that should cover it. But if it's okay, I have a special request for you. For the pony that will actually shoe me, I would like it to be Maccabee Shine if that's possible. He'll understand. It may sound weird, but I just don't trust anypony else to do it. If you could make that happen, it would be so much better. Knowing him, you could probably find him working inside the mountains. Eagerly awaiting your response, Caramel Maccabee Shine? That name rang a bell, but it was tough to tell which one. But more significantly, Caramel seemed to know a ferrier...or at least a potential one. This ran deeper than just requesting a doctor to perform surgery, and Twilight said that Big Mac may have needed to read this. Her head buzzed with the implications and the sound of hoofsteps. What she did now could really make a mess of things if she wasn't careful; she could feel it down to her bones. As if she didn't have enough to worry her already... “G-Get outta the way, AJ!” Caramel, speak of the devils, suddenly appeared in her field of vision, barreling past the entrance to Sweet Apple Acres. She had somehow wandered out in front of it...was she really that distracted? “Whoa! Sorry there, Mel!”, she said as she jumped out of the way. Mel sped past her without another word, those weird shoes gleaming surprisingly bright with each gallop. Supposedly, he had thirty more laps to go until he was satisfied for the day. Applejack still had to wait for her brother to help her heft the crates to the train (he didn't let her get away with doing it herself before, and he wouldn't do it now). She thought about how distant he seemed the other day. All he told her was that the 'mishap' was just a misunderstanding and everything was fine. Other than that, he just played with that old doll she couldn't get him to return to Twilight. Even if she tried now, it would be too awkward...but not like how it was awkward to see Mel trying to talk to him while Big Mac just ignored everypony. Just what happened, anyway? Did it have something to do with this letter? ...Aw, shucks! He's prolly jus' tuckered out from bein' so lively with his colt. He'd hafta stop t'cool off eventually. Wouldn't he? It's jus'...oh, who am Ah kiddin'? Ah cain't make heads or tails o' it. He's jus' gonna hafta tell me himself. ...In th' meantime, maybe Ah should chat with th' other half. She walked in front of the entrance deliberately this time, spying the distant beige figure twisting and turning along the perimeter of the acreage. After a few minutes of nothing else to do, she saw him bounding with slightly less energy up to the gate...and stopped in front of it. The boy knew signals when given to him, good. “I...I guess...”, said Caramel as he stopped for breath, “...that you...wanna talk--” “Yes,” preempted Applejack. “Ah wanted t'talk 'bout Big Mac.” She saw his wavering gaze focus and his face fall slightly. He was taking last night seriously, that was for sure. “Can it...wait? I...really need to beat flanks here.” “Not really, no.” She caught a split-second glare from him, which quickly replaced itself with a polite smile. It was like reading the faces of the Oranges, maybe even worse because it was somepony she knew. A horrifying premonition clawed at her from the thought of it. Was she losing control of her family? A conspiracy of madness, born from the hearts of her own...it was the kind of paranoia that killed her parents. She reclaimed herself in order to speak. “Now Ah don' reckon you know 'zactly why he behaved th' way he did at dinner last night. But Ah do wonder if'n there were somethin' worth knowin' that you did. Know, that is.” Caramel stared at her. Applejack stared back without reservations. The letter sat under her hat patiently. “...I'm not sure what you mean. Are you asking if we're having a fight?” “More or less.” She shouldn't have been obtuse in the first place. “Since you asked, I have no idea!”, whined Caramel. “I only saw the lug as much as you did at dinner – and thank you again, by the way. I tried asking him about the trip before he went to bed, but he acted like I wasn't even there! It really got my...” Oh, ponyfeathers. So he's upset 'bout that, too. Well if'n he asked, Ah'd jus' tell him Ah saw no reason not t'tell Caramel. He couldn't even give me a reason! Most ridiculous thing Ah'd heard all day that day! “...really don't want to be reminded of that. Did...did I just say that? Please tell me I didn't say that!” Whut? “D-Don' worry 'bout it, sugarcube.” The athlete-hopeful recoiled, seeming completely aghast at her. Gee willikers, just what did he say? “H-How can you say that?! I can't just 'not worry' about bearing my soul like...” Mel stopped and took a deep breath. “...You know what?”, he said with a genuine smile. “If you're not worried about it, then I shouldn't be either. Thanks, AJ. You really know just what to say!” Jus' count yer blessin's an' move on, girl. T'ain't worth th' consequences. “Not a problem, Mel. Git on, now!” “R-Right!”, said Caramel with a healthy grin. “I'll deal with that weirdo another time. See you around...literally! Heh heh.” “See you! An' go easy on th' jokes there.” The last she saw of him was a cringe before he started galloping around the farm again. Stressing over his boyfriend, calling him names, still thanking her for a simple courtesy, carrying some secret around that was reminiscent of last night...she was starting to wonder about him. He was normally polite around her; but there he was, hinting at some trouble brewing. Now she knew something bad would happen if she didn't act. When was her brother going to come help her with the shipment?! “Um, AJ?” She turned her head to see the pony himself walking over from the barn to heft a crate. He seemed completely bored, even a little irritated. He had a small morning glory between his teeth. “Right behind you, big brother. We should still be able t'make it.” “Eeyup.” Applejack hefted her own crate on her back as they walked toward the train station. She was intensely aware of how hot the August sun was bearing down on her, brazing each step with the crate. After they were halfway there, she couldn't stand it anymore. “Ah'm sorry Ah told him,” she confessed. “But he was gonna ask questions, an' it woulda come out eventually. T'be honest, Ah think you were jus' bein' silly...but Ah did break mah promise, an' Ah apologize.” For some reason, she found herself entirely grateful that she wasn't carrying oranges. Big Mac didn't lose his focus or turn to look at her as he answered. "Yer wigged out o'er this love dilemma, so Ah forgive you." Suddenly, the August sun wasn't as oppressive to her anymore. She forgave Applebloom, and he forgave her, just like it always was. She should have known that would never change, heh. "...You really mean that, big brother?" “...Eeyup.” After twenty minutes or so, the two of them had loaded the final crate of apples onto the train. Thankfully, they didn't put the conductor too far behind schedule, even though they made a point to wait between Caramel's laps. The train started up and left without a single issue. As soon as they left the station, his sister started as Big Macintosh let out a heavy sigh. “Ah should talk t'Caramel,” he said with a weary-looking frown. Applejack felt her muscles slowly relax. Finally, something sensible was about to take place! Now all she had to do was guide him in the right...direction... Her muscles clenched again. “Ah wuz jus' paranoid 'bout somethin', an' Ah shoulda told him th' truth. Ah'm sure it's nothin'.” Her body temperature spiked. This was the worst time to break it to him, but it was also the only time left. It could only be one thing. For better or for worse, she made her decision. “Big Mac?” “Mmhmm?” “...Before you do that, there's somethin' you should look at.” Applejack gingerly took her hat off her head and turned it over, letting the letter fall into Macintosh's quick-drawn hooves. She watched him read it. His face turned from a perplexed frown, to a disgusted frown...and then to a face of horror...and then to a face that scared her to no end. Big Macintosh was angry. Very angry. But he also seemed like he was about to collapse. “U-Um...Ah wuz wonderin' if'n you knew 'bout this. Ah'm sure you--” “Where did you git this?”, he asked in a disturbingly quiet voice. She thought of Twilight and how she was a comparative weight disadvantage to her brother. Any interaction they had while he was like this wouldn't be remembered well, she knew that. “Ah-Ah stumbled upon it. The doctor must have slipped it into that academic journal thingy he sent us by accident.” Well, it was technically true. At least that was what she was told. Twilight didn't go too far into it... “W-Why? Did it say somethin' peculiar?” Big Macintosh said nothing. For some reason, Applejack thought of roller coasters. Caramel woke up in a cold sweat on the day of the competition. It was another nightmare about being locked out of the Apple family home. If only Big Macintosh would show himself and Applejack would be straightforward with him, then he wouldn't be so nervous! Nerves were the last thing he needed, after all! Victory would just have to be good enough to soothe him. He shined his shoes very thoroughly, disgusted at the marks that had formed overnight. Why did that always happen?! He rubbed and scrubbed and almost scratched them to get them to look right. Even when he was done, he wasn't satisfied. He took one look at his hair and decided to change it back how it was. Fake wet hair in a contest of strength, pathetic. The two silver medals seemed like a nice touch, though. Game time. Those ponies were no concern of his today...and not for the rest of his life.
GrinCaramel thought the Iron Pony Competition would be invigorating, that it would release his emotion to adoring fans. Instead, it was a haze-induced blur. Caramel didn't even pay attention to who exactly he was opposing for which event; he just took a task and mastered it to move on to the next. Maybe he would wake up and the competition would actually be tomorrow instead; he just had to make sure he didn't lose to a dream of all things. He was not in the mood to lose, not to anypony. Hoofball kicking? Just bucked the skin off the damn thing. Horseshoe throwing? Smashed the stake in the middle with ol' Cheerilee. Lassoing? Tied the knot, whipped the lasso, and snagged the stupid chicken before the...rope-maker mare?...did. Hoof wrestling? Just made sure the horseshoes didn't leave any bruises on whatshisface. Push-ups? Took time, paced the push, and outlasted the taxi pony. What was his name again? Well, whatever it was, it wouldn't be mentioned at the end of the contest. Barrel hurdling? He just kept grinning the Grin and rocketed through them. Even the penalty he got for “nudging” a barrel (he may or may not have smashed it, he couldn't and didn't want to tell) wasn't enough to keep him from winning. And that was how it was. The crowd was split between cheering and booing, slowly turning to self-righteous jeering by the end. Whatever. He was done. No matter where they came from, they had all seen what he was and how seriously he took himself. He opted to leave the trophy alone until they left him in the field to be fully taken over by the late summer haze. His horseshoes were absolutely filthy. “So...heh heh...”, Spike's baritone wavered from the speakers, “now that you've won the competition, how do you feel?” Like I may have lost the most beautiful thing in my life to something incredibly stupid. You? “Like a million bits,” he answered. “SHUT IT, CHEATER!”, somepony from the crowd behind him shouted. “THOSE SHOES WON THOSE EVENTS, NOT YOU!” “Goodness me, Ponyville ponies love to shout. My delicate ears, darling...” “YOU BESTED MY SISTER AT HER TALENT! AT HER TALENT! CAN YOU LIVE WITH THAT?!” Caramel felt the Grin widen at those words. It had stopped being a real grin a long time ago. “O-Okay,” continued Spike. “So what do you plan to do now?” That's a damn good question, Spike. I really have no clue. “I'll just be here for whenever I'm needed,” he answered. “OH, CAN IT, YOU BULLY!” “YOU'RE DISGUSTING!” “Did he change his hair? I just noticed that, huh...NICE HAIR, YOU LITTLE JERK!” “YOU'RE NOTHING BUT A HEARTLESS THUG!” “I must say, that was frightfully unsporting.” “GO HOME, FREAK!” That was enough. Caramel turned around to face his former nightmare, brandishing his medals. Only one thing to say seemed anywhere near appropriate to him. “Oh, you're all just jealous.” The crowd looked ready to swoop down from the bleachers and prey on him...but they stopped all at once, looking to their left. Then they started cheering rabidly for some reason. “GO AND SHOW HIM WHO'S BOSS!” “Thank Celestia yer alright, big brother! Ah...Ah wuz seriously at mah wit's end, you big jerk! You...oh, pony, you look like you haven't missed a meal! Ah'm jus' glad yer back!” “WELCOME HOME, BIG BROTHER! APPLES FOREVER!” “NOW YOU'LL GET YOURS, SHOWOFF!” “TIME FOR A REAL CHAMPION TO STRUT HIS STUFF!” He looked to the perimeter of the arena: Big Macintosh had cantered up to the hoofball area, looking freshly bathed, well-fed, and...displeased. Like he had any right to look that way. The champions looked to each other wordlessly. Now you're here?! No explanation, no apology, no “Ah fell down a well an' Ah couldn't git up!” or anything?! And...oh, you have the nerve to just look away! The loser walked over to stand side-by-side his stud, or who he hoped was still his stud. He smelled freshly-cut flowers from the dirty blonde mane... “Where the hells have you been?! I've been worried sick!” Mac said nothing. “YOU'LL GET YOURS, BRUTE! I MUST SAY!” “Oh, don't be so dramatic, darling. And don't speak so plainly, it's unbecoming of a gentlepony!” “RESTART! RESTART! RESTART!” Restart, restart, restart...that's a nice word. I never thought about it before, but it's a beautiful word, I like it. I want to restart this day...not to mention your entrance! “Babe, you just disappeared. You weren't on the farm, you weren't in town, and nopony had any idea of what happened! Do you have any idea how much that freaked me--” “Ah needed a break.” Off in the distance, Caramel heard the roller coaster careen down to the earth. He felt nauseated, like he was about to wake up but instead was just slammed with adrenaline while his body was still pinned to the void. “...Well, anyway, thanks for taking the heat off me,” he whispered. “They can really get under a pony's hide when they want to.” Mac simply stood by him, sunlight glinting off the cheap glasses. They looked goofy on him, now that Caramel thought about it. So that's why the salesponies were so eager to get rid of them...but it was almost just as well, really! Mac looked like an apple-fed accountant, especially with that standoffish pout; he couldn't have asked for a better distraction from the crowd. “COME ON, LET'S START IT AGAIN ALREADY!” “THIS COMPETITION ISN'T FINISHED YET!” “RESTART! RESTART! RESTART!” Even the scorekeepers were getting ready for a one-on-one, old fashioned contest. It seemed the decision was made for both of them, even as they stood there doing absolutely nothing. Mel had used Mac's prowess as a goal to strive for during his too-short training, so the call for a rival's showdown was only fitting. This was just the final test, or a dream with an understandable twist, nothing more. Just a test, nothing more. Nothing more. “...So you wanna do this? It would be great to see what you can do.” Mac snorted. Mel felt his voice start to fail, but he knew his eyes were dry. “...Why're you being so cold? Why haven't you talked to me at all lately?” Mac looked to the right to finally meet eyes with his, evergreen and stony. Mel felt very, very itchy. “Ah'm not happy with you.” Mel felt his stomach churn. Restart, restart, restart... “...Okay, so I got hotheaded. I'll do this with you and I'll apologize to them; it'll be fine! We can all be reasonable here.” It's basically your fault, anyway. Mac just kept his face forward. This just wasn't like him, not the wild Mac he had learned to love over the year. Maybe the old one was coming back from that “break”? Either way, it didn't change the situation Mac threw at him without a word of warning. You made me worry; you did this to me. But...was it just an accident this time? “Stop ignoring me. You're...you're acting like a mare or something; it's not like you.” Without missing a beat, Mac replied: “Well, if'n Ah'm lovin' you, then Ah might as well be a mare.” ...You don't mean... “...Did you even read my letter, then?” Not that I should have needed to write it. You should have just asked me in the first place! Mac actually sneered at him. The lug beared his teeth and everything. Restart failed. “Eeyup, Ah did. An' that's 'zactly why Ah'm here.” Just like that, Mac became a strange red pony to him again. Nothing in that letter was deserving of this; he checked it two dozen times to see that it was good! He recalled each and every word right at that moment, down to the postscript! Babe, I know you won't talk to me for some reason, but I thought about what you told Junebug. You could have just asked me instead of her, but it doesn't matter now. I really don't know why I like stallions, to be honest. I never thought about it before. I suppose I was too caught up in dealing with my incomplete talent that I just didn't have time to worry. And when I put it in that light...it seemed about right. You and I have bigger problems than why we like the same sex, and I suspect we always will. Maybe it's unnatural, maybe it'll never be recognized outside of that trend we had for a while, but I really don't care. I love you, and I don't plan to stop loving you. If it's about kids, then I admit I'm not ready (I'm busy taking care of myself with everything that happened). But if you were just kidding about not being ready for them...I'll listen. If we have to work out something weird, I'll think about it. I'm serious. Please talk to me, Caramel P.S. I heard about what happened to your doll, babe. Are you okay? I can get a replacement if you want, just let me know. In retrospect, one part of that letter wasn't completely accurate. Well, two: he had already gotten a replacement two weeks ago. It was even much nicer-looking than the old one. But for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to deliver it to the farm. And once Big Mac disappeared altogether...the silly thing ended up sitting on the nightstand in his old room. Eventually, he got tired of passing by it each morning and just trashed it. “Alright, everypony!”, announced Spike. “It seems we're doing this again, but in classic style with just Caramel and Big Macintosh, two notorious athletes! We'll start with the hoofball kicking once it's set up, so please stay seated!” Mel felt September's midday sun blazing above him. He suddenly remembered that as soon as the contest was done, the Running of the Leaves would start being organized; the next third of the orchard would soon be due for harvest as well; then the oranges would need to be harvested by wintertime, that would be strange. He felt himself deliberately avoiding looking to the left. So he looked behind him instead, toward the crowd. “I'm not too happy with you, either.” Mel heard no response while the arena was cleaned and prepared for another gauntlet of events. Butterflies flew haphazardly in front of his face as he kept thinking of autumn. By the time he had run out of planner items, the stage was set. “This is the moment I'm sure most ponies have been waiting for!”, bellowed Spike. “All-natural powerhouse Big Mac versus the new and improved Caramel for the true winner of the Iron Pony Trophy. It's a well known fact they're in a relationship, so this could be--” “KNOCK HIM DEAD, BIG MAC!” “DON'T LET FEELINGS GET IN THE WAY! HE NEEDS TO KNOW HIS PLACE!” “O-Oh, my...I don't remember the last Iron Pony Competition being this nasty.” “GOOOOOOOOO APPLES! B-But you be sure t'play nice now, big brother! You too, Caramel!” “GET REVENGE FOR MY DAUGHTER, BOY!” “--interesting...” No kidding, Spike. I don't even know what's happening anymore. ...Where is our relationship now? I guess you're going to tell me with this. “Just like before, the contestants may begin when ready.” Spike turned away from the microphone to release a loud, heavy sigh. Caramel turned to have his hind legs facing the skinless hoofball. He felt the power coiled in his legs constrict and vibrate down to his hooves, the metal shoes enslaved to his command. The strange power astride the crowd's jeers suddenly reminded him of just how inescapable his situation was: he was a horse, Big Mac was his angry-for-no-good-reason boyfriend, and ponies judged him for what he was able to do. He was past the point of no return...and so he bucked the ball with all his strength. He and Mac had bucked the hoofballs at roughly the same time, tearing through the air like they had been catapulted. Both of their arcs sailed high above the deciduous tree acreage, finally falling down onto...somewhere. The scorekeepers started to fly after them, but Spike called them back. Caramel turned and noticed a thin layer of skin sitting in tatters north of where the second hoofball stood. “L-Let's just call that a draw,” Spike said to a gaping crowd, which began to moan in inconsistent, disorganized bursts. Both Mac and Mel snorted and walked to the next event without a word. The shoe throwing was over before it even started, both contestants whipping their colorful weapons clean through the posts and toward the edge of Sweet Apple Acres. It was at that point the repair crew announced they were leaving the strength meter broken and removing that event from the trials. The boos from the crowd did not seem to dissuade them. “That's another draw.” The barrel hurdling was curious in that ponies weren't sure how the bulky farm pony would navigate between them. Caramel offered the suggestion of moving them further apart, which was met with pure derision from the crowd. Big Macintosh said nothing, galloping between the standard setup, of course without a single error. Roars of adulation met him at the finish line, which were answered with the Grin. With a deep breath, Caramel pressed his hooves into the ground and began weaving through the barrels himself, focusing on accuracy instead of speed. He finished only a split second after his opponent, having not even breathed on the hurdles. He was met with silence. “U-Um...”, stalled Spike, “The difference is so small that--” “THAT'S BALONEY! BIG MAC WON AND YOU KNOW IT!” “GIVE HIM THE POINT, I'M DYING OVER HERE!” “Darling, please...” “Um, Spike, sugar? I think you should be a little more picky with these two. Jus' bein' fair is all.” Caramel finally dared to look at his inscrutable boyfriend, who glared back at him without a trace of remorse. “...Okay, so just tell me why you're mad at me, please?”, he whispered. “It's not at all like you to be angry when you're winning.” Or to bore a hole through my heart with your eyes. Macintosh's glare became bafflingly indignant, eyebrows raised in...disbelief? Spike the Judge kept audibly deliberating what to do. Caramel wished Spike was louder, loud enough to drown out the entire valley if it could be managed. “...Yer unbelievable. Simply un-bel-iev-a-ble.” What?! Why would you even...?! “Huh?” “Jus' think 'bout it fer once, jus' try. You little traitor.” Traitor...traitor, traitor, traitor, traitor, traitor. The word ricocheted around his skull, ripped through his body, and left him drenched in cold sweat. He didn't like that word, not at all. He was a traitor. He was a traitor...? How did he betray anypony? What was happening?! “What the hells are you--” “We the Judges...I mean, I the Judge declare that Big Macintosh is the winner of the Barrel Hurdling!” The crowd roared to a smiling champion. Mel was alone...but he supposed he saw this coming. All the signs were there, fragrant and cackling mindlessly at him. His medals felt heavier now. Maybe he was turning over in his sleep? "Traitor?" "Eeyup," spat Mac without looking at him. Traitor...he had thrown that word around his head a few months ago. But he was just struggling to accept who Mac really was. What reason did the pony have to call him that? "YOU ROCK, MACINTOSH!" The scandalous pony smiled. Who was the real traitor here? “...So is this your plan? Upstage me again and run off into town?” “Mah plan,” whispered Mac darkly, “is t'show everypony jus' who you are. An' Ah know how t'do that jus' dandy. They're already on mah side.” Mac waved to the crowd, which received him like the adoring public for a prince. Mel was wondering why glasses were necessary for athletics like this...but he now saw they were just to make the insufferable pony look innocent. Mel saw the Grin flash on the stupid lug's face again. He had to stay angry before...before he... Daddy, it hurts. “Well then,” he countered, “I guess I'll have to expose you, too.” The Grin vanished. At least now he had the upper hoof; Mac almost looked scared! “Whut?” Let's see...direct? No. Subtle's always best. That's why you're doing it, isn't it? “...You don't normally chew flowers. You've picked up a new habit.” As soon as he said it, all his remaining doubt evaporated. Mac snorted, but he expected that. “If the contestants would please make their way to the lassoing area?!” Mac and Mel lassoed the chicken simultaneously, making the crowd panic as she turned blue. Mel nickered at her to make her pull away from him, causing Mac's lasso to slacken and loosen its hold...? “Caramel wins the lassoing event!” “WHAT WAS THAT?! THAT HAS TO BE--” “Any sounds made by the contestants are completely legal, especially as a tie breaker,” corrected Spike. “It's trickier than it looks, too; noisemaking can backfire. It's just too bad Big Mac didn't think of that!” Big Mac grinned. The deviant had loosened the rope to make him look bad, no doubt. Little Mel wasn't worried, though. He just had to take one accusing look at the crowd, focusing on the sun-kissed mane being tossed in the breeze. Mac followed his gaze, looking just as cocky as before...until the brute's clueless mug fell into exactly what he knew it would: A big, dumb, helpless gape of horror. So this was real. He wasn't crazy, but instead this was real. He forced breath into his lungs. What the hells has happened to my life? Of all the reactions Caramel wanted, this was what he hoped and dreamed wouldn't be the truth. With each step to the next event, he made himself breathe in, breathe out. It was hard to breathe. It was hard to think. If only today were a dream, it wouldn't be so hard to just smile and forget about it. Let it be a dream. Let it be a dream. But it couldn't be a dream, because dreams knew when to stop...although he still had the weirdest feeling that he might wake up. From what did he need to wake, though? He had won, breathe in, breathe out. The restart failed, but he won anyway. What this dream-contest trying to tell him something? He had worked so hard for everything he had gotten – all in the name of holding down a damn job – and he ended up using it all to fight against something he didn't even understand. Something that came out of nowhere, something he should have seen coming would never leave him alone now. Breathe in, breathe out. And on top of it all, something else was scraggling at the edge of his mind, trying to escape into the summer haze. Maybe I'm forgetting something? No, no, that's ridiculous. Maybe there's something to all of this that I just can't think of...? Oh, whatever, whatever! It doesn't change anything! I'll just focus on the game. Breathe, Caramel, breathe. The push-ups were a nonstop crowd rant featuring Mac and Mel straining on the ground. The former was exaggerating each rep by either doing them very quickly or flexing his muscles as he fell. Mel envisioned Mac thinking that with enough time, he'd find some way to cheat or berate or manipulate or otherwise degrade both of them while the whole crowd was watching. But the latter decided to encourage this instead, keeping his own push-ups simple and undaunted. With enough time, Mac would flop to the ground in need of help, she would call out, and Mac would have to look back while the whole crowd was watching. One hundred push-ups later, nothing had happened at all. Mac could only try to keep going, and Mel was praying his legs would hold out until the end of the contest. No cheating, no moment of weakness on either side...and so he finally collapsed on the ground. “Big Macintosh wins the push-up event!” The crowd cheered. Mel forced himself to get up, each blurred shout from the crowd reminding him of the stakes. He had to at least hold his own, or he couldn't force the opportunity to win his dignity. He had to silence those devilish ponies surrounding him. And those miles away from him. Above him. Below him. Inside his own head. I hate this I hate this I can't stand it I can't stand you right now you're ruining me again I love you but I can't do this Gods help me...what did I do?! What have I forgotten?! The Grin flashed from the strange red pony...at last aimed for him and nopony else but him. All his memories of it returned to overwhelm him: the Grin after he was catapulted from a tree; the Grin just before the shoe throwing; the Grin on the first day of trying to figure out his problem; the Grin; the Grin; the Grin... Breathe in, breathe out. Caramel realized it was the same every time. Every tooth, every crinkle of Mac's eyes never changed in the slightest. Even when he himself did it, the Grin was always an exact copy of the first, until today. And that was when he realized nothing had changed at all. Not until today. Breathe in...breathe out...Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Taking in the obnoxious sight, Caramel felt a tiny, stifling part of him snap in two. He inhaled deeply - down to his diaphragm - as blood rushed to his head. He was done with subtle scheming. He glared murderously at Big Macintosh and stomped, pulverizing the ground beneath him into dust. The crowd roared with delight, and the Grin broadened. “You're fucking dead, philanderer.” The Grin died. Everything outside the field lost meaning for Caramel. With each tug of the rope with his teeth, with each hay bale he rushed across the arena, his sense of self cracked a little more. At the same time, each tug and rush incited his opponent into a fiercer and fiercer campaign to punish him. And he didn't care. “GO GET HIM, BIG MAC! SHOW THAT...that...wow, you're really looking angry there. Oh, sheesh, both of you. D-Don't get carried away! It's just a game, remember!” “Daddy, wat the hulls are you--” “Sweetie, don't draw attention to yourself...” He struggled to stay focused on the events themselves, even if it made him lose...but he felt the haze's soothing protection get swallowed with him into a mindless, decadent rage. A rage that his own lover had unknowingly demanded was unleashed and feeding on both of them. And he didn't care. “B-Big Brother? Caramel? Jus' ease up there! It's all in good fun, after all! Hah hah...Bloom, go find Twilight, wouldja?” “No need, AJ, I'm here. I know how to stop them if I have to.” His face twisted in tandem with his opponent's as the arena slowly corrupted into a bloodless battlefield. Who he was, what he had become melted under the searing heat rising from the pretty hellscape, broke with each stomp on the ground. And he didn't care. “The contestants should remember that this is a clean competition! Keep the horseplay to a-AAAAAAAGHA-OKAYOKAYokayI'llbequietjustdon'tcomethisway!” He wasn't playing for sport; he wasn't playing to win; he wasn't even playing to prove a point. “M-My dear, they're going to break each other's bones with roughhousing like that! Is this legal?” He was playing to finally make that beautiful, horrible bully pay for what he did. Who cared what the score was? So what if Junebug stayed quiet? And what did it matter if nopony in the town ever though well of him again?! None of that mattered anymore...and it was too late to take any of it back. Restarts were for losers. Hoof wrestling was the final event. After Twilight made both of them calm down (a couple buckets of ice cold water to the face), Caramel set the medals down behind him and stood opposite Macintosh around the stump. Here was his chance. He would finally overhaul the shoeless horse and show him that his heart didn't have room for a cheater. Hooves out, fury blazing, and strength funneled in his front right leg sealed his decision. He didn't feel itchy anymore, not even as the crowd started shouting again. His leg wrapped around the other without a shred of affection. He did have to appreciate the raw power humming in the pony's muscles, coiled from an unfathomably deep source. It was all he could find to praise for a pony like that. “BREAK THE TIE, BIG MAC! MAKE HIM PAY!” “Oh, Ah will...”, Mac whispered only to Mel. “You have no right to say that to me.” “PUSH THROUGH IT, KEEP GOING! YOU'VE ALMOST GOT IT!” “Oh, don' Ah now?! After whut you did, Ah reckon Ah can say whut Ah like!” Caramel stopped holding back and strained against Big Macintosh, bringing their legs back to equilibrium. “Enlighten me,” he snarled, “just what did I do to earn the title of 'traitor'?” “DON' GIVE HIM AN INCH, BIG BROTHER!” “APPLEBLOOM!” “Don' be an idiot, Caramel Shine. That damn letter is how you earned it!” “Y-You're making no sense!”, he protested. “All I wrote in that letter is what I thought about...wait. I never told you my last name, how could you possibly--” “Lemme put it this way,” drawled Mac. “Yer daddy's got a very distinctive name.” “What?!”, blustered Caramel. “The hells does that have to do with anything?! I mean, the only place I wrote his full name was...” He faltered, almost letting Big Macintosh win. All he could see was the hatred seething from his stud's eyes, bright and wavering like so many nightmares. “You have a lot of explainin' t'do.”
SideviewsSalt Shaker waited patiently as she was served outside the commoner's cafe. The waiter seemed to understand her needs, which was a refreshing contrast with the rest of the muted town's self-service attitude. She needed that contrast; she hated the carelessness that surrounded her new home. More ponies like him needed to live in places like this to make them bearable. It only made sense. “Ah, my love!”, Money Mover called to her from the south. “So horribly sorry, that pink nightmare of a mare caught me by surprise again. A true night...mare? O-ho, that just hit me upside the head!” Late again, darling. This keeps getting worse with each engagement! I'm starting to wish you were the waiter here to give you some perspective! “Not to worry, dear. I just settled in myself.” Half an hour ago... Money sat down opposite her but neglected to peruse the menu. He had ordered the same entree for the entire summer, as if his entire world would fall apart if he dared to order something more substantial. If ponies here prepared food for substance in the valley, then she and he might as well embrace it! But no such luck, it seemed. Perhaps this autumn will be different. With those two rowdies broken up, everything will shift again. New business, new potential connoisseurs, new opportunities for...just a moment of what we once had... “Oh, did you change your hair, darling?”, asked Money. “It suits you just so!” Salt made herself smile. The waiter refilled her water glass with a careless hum. “Yes, thank you, my love. It's nice to know you noticed.” At least those deviants were honest. I can't even access my own husband... ...No! Autumn will be different; I will make it so! He'll be enraptured with me yet, only for a sprig of inspiration. Something outside the nominal... Of course. Of course! “...so that's how she managed to get me lodged in a hollow tree! Hahaha! Can you imagine, love? My pampered self at the mercy of foliage; it slayed me to no end!” Hmm. To be at the mercy of something greater than yourself, darling...I like that. No, focus, Saltine! “Money, dear?” “How much?” The waiter chuckled; Salt forced herself to recognize that before continuing. “No, you silly pony. What do you make of the Iron Pony debacle last week?” Her lime green stallion scrunched his face up in thought. It was the same gorgeous face she crushed on for months before finally asking him to give a tour of the Canterlot Premiere Bank. Discussing the watercolors hung throughout the establishment, chiding the mindless gazers, even introducing the concept of fine-crystalline salt: a nip of it from her prize sample...and the result sat in front of her now, as it had for seventeen years. Perhaps this silly face would be her ticket out of this rut. “It's...tricky, certainly. For me, it surprised me how much publicity the two got the day after. I was sure the novelty had worn off as soon as...as...” “Caramel,” answered that ubiquitous orange mare. What was her name? “R-Right, thank you, miss. Anyway, as soon as Caramel unveiling his cutie mark to the valley blew over, it seemed...blown over. The trending world moved on like it always does. So all the press the break-up received simply seemed unlikely. Am I wrong?” He had you tripping over yourself to donate to Appleloosans. And you weren't the only one; he had most of our friends dipping into the principle! I was surprised the competition didn't have more reporters, with only the one speaking up in the name of modesty, of all things! I swear, you've become a mite oblivious. ..Did I just think 'a mite' to myself? Gracious, this town is infectious. “Ponies can surprise you, love. Heavens knows you have.” ...I said that out loud. Oh dear. I must be losing my grip. Money of course looked highly concerned. The waiter and even the farm mare – Apple-something? - peered at her with discomfort. “Darling, is everything alright?” Tell him tell him tell him quit fussing over prudence and say what you feel! Who cares if the whole town hears it; what really matters? This is your marriage here! Tell the truth! “...Oh, yes, it's nothing. I just noticed how much we've changed.” Spineless. So much for your mission of love. “It's staggering, isn't it?”, said Money with muted awe. “I'm not half the pony I was when we came here, and you're...” Salt feigned an interested gaze. “...even lovelier than before, yes, my dear! This valley just swept us into the seasons without a care, always having something unexpected happen at the strangest times!” But then something unexpected happened. The farm mare walked over with her chair in her teeth, set it down next to them, and made herself comfortable with the sunniest smile on her face. “Mind if Ah throw in mah two bits?” The mare stuck out her hooves to both Money and Salt. They were filthy. “Th' name's Applejack, pleased t'meet you two.” Salt gingerly gave her own hoof to shake, noticing that her husband was less hesitant to do so. That walking cotton candy ball must have influenced him more than she feared. “Pleased to meet you, dear,” started Salt. “I am Saltine Shaker, and this is my dear husband Money Mover. But this is a private conversation, if you please--” “Ah'm sorry t'intrude on y'all,” she said while looking straight at them, “but Ah jus' cain't sit by while two ponies who love each other muck 'round not sayin' whut they really mean. Ah've made that mistake before, an' Ah'm not gonna make it 'gain.” The silver Unicorn shared a glance with her husband, who seemed completely befuddled. Even when she pressed him to address her by way of a hard stare, he simply threw his hooves up and bugged his eyes in a helpless shrug. It seemed she would have to take care of this herself. Yes. She would have to take care of his type of acquaintance. “I'm afraid we have no idea what you're saying, dear,” she stated forcefully. “Well, s'like this,” Applejack continued without a hint of trepidation. “Ah can tell you were fibbin' clear as day, Ms. Shaker, an' you were doin' it with a 'make nice or everythin's ruined' face to boot. Fer th' sake o' yer husband...fer th' sake o' yerself, jus' tell th' truth an' have done with it.” Salt didn't even have to look back to Money to know he was nervous. She was preparing to rebut the audacity of this Applejack to prescribe anything for a relationship which had nothing to do with her, when-- “Shoot, if'n those two blockheads had done it, then maybe it wouldn't've turned out that way...”, said Applejack with her eyes to the ground. Those two blockheads? Where in Equestria did that...ah. A-ha! I knew I had seen you before. Yes...over in the fields after the Cataclysm. Perhaps a different approach is in order... Saltine threw aside her disgust at the situation, replacing it with her most sympathetic eyes and a slightly wan smile. “It was tragic what happened, wasn't it?”, she offered sweetly. The rude mare returned Salt's gaze despondently, almost suspiciously...and then shut her eyes as she swallowed. Excellent. “Ah jus' don' git it,” Applejack finally admitted after a short wait. “Those two weren't th' most experienced pair – or th' least troubled fer that matter – but it seemed like they were better than that. Ah'm not usually wrong 'bout this stuff! Ah coulda sworn they woulda known better than t'behave that way.” “Yes, it was a frightfully belligerent scene at the competition--” “Wha?”, asked Applejack suddenly. “No, no, Ah meant fer th' long term! Those two had problems that were haunting them fer th' longest time, an' fer some stupid reason, they decided t'burden their love with them. They weren't even together fer that long! An' now...Ah've never seen mah brother this upset, not even back in the spring.” Out of curiosity, Salt glanced past her beloved to spy a table outside Sugarcube Corner. She couldn't stand that establishment, for more than one reason. A decent summary of her contempt sat on the plate between two ponies: a small pile of daisies liberally covered in chocolate. Disgraceful. At least they bothered to put tables outside with the year's changes: there was no excuse for poor service for any business. Nevertheless, a large red stallion nuzzling a sun-colored mare hovered obnoxiously over the table. He seems fine to me. “Now don' you be fooled by that one,” spat Applejack without warning. “He was...” Salt had to smirk as Applejack faltered; obviously, she was realizing just how intimate she was being in front of two complete strangers. This pony would not make a competent therapist, not with that all-on-the-table philosophy. As surreptitiously as she could, she checked Applejack's plate from the other table to see if there were traces of salt on it. “...well, let's jus' say we all lost some sleep fer a few nights. It wuz nonstop misery tearin' at all our hearts; but then he up an' courts June like it's th' summertime! Out o' th' blue! As if that would solve his problem, great skies. That pair over there won't last, believe you me.” Telling herself it was purely out of attentiveness this time, she spied the pair again: they did have warm, giddy smiles gracing their faces, mirrored corner for corner to each other. If the smile on the stallion was actually fake, then he was a convincing actor. But at the same time, the contorted faces the same pony was pulling the week before...to be smiling so quickly after a scene like that would be suspicious. Money said nothing. It was like he wasn't even there. “Ah haven't even seen Caramel since that day. But Ah cain't imagine that he's doin' much better. Probably still in that house all this week...” Suddenly, Money snapped back into reality. Or at least, it had seemed like he had left reality before. Yet another mystery to add to the list... “Oh, I can tell you that, miss. Young Caramel ventured to Canterlot for a while, saying he would return here for the Running of the Leaves. It wasn't clear why he went there or why exactly he felt the need to leave, but the Valley Chronicle covered the whole thing; didn't you read--” Applejack softly grunted in what could only be discomfort. Were she in her position, Salt wouldn't much care for reading gossip either. “--Ah. My apologies,” offered Money. “N-Not a problem,” answered Applejack. “It's jus' that Ah have enough t'think 'bout without all that nonsense. Ah really should jus' buck up an' git a copy, though; Ah cain't afford t'be uninformed much longer.” As if hit by lightning, Salt changed from regarding Applejack with a kind of irritated pity to a poignant astonishment. This mare was unabashedly honest. She had told herself fervently that the language of truth was the most beautiful of all, even when she told the most pathetic lies. But here across from her sat the face of honesty, and it seemed so very...awkward. Honesty would be nothing if not awkward; that was the lesson here. Apparently, this Applejack couldn't be bothered to dress up her speech with smooth little half-truths or pretty understatements, unless it was necessary, like before. What an odd pony! What must it be like to live like that, to be like that? Real honesty... She gazed wistfully at her husband. It's worth a shot. She still needs to learn, as does he. “...so Ah'll be fine once Ah figure out whut t'do. That's all.” “That sounds perfectly reasonable,” said Money. “I wish you luck on mending these bridges.” “Thank you kindly, Mr. Mover.” The pensive mare took a deep breath as she shook out of her reverie, noticing the other two at the table glancing aimlessly around them at various objects...but most of their eye contact was concentrated on her, albeit intermittently. That could only mean one thing. Great: now she was the awkward one. Well, this is as good a time as any. “Well,” started Salt, “this was a refreshing chat we had. But before we part ways, Miss Applejack, there are a few things I want to say.” Applejack leaned forward slightly before saying: “Yes, Ms. Shaker?” Salt also leaned forward – toward Money. “You never listen to me anymore; you run off at the oddest occasions to go Celestia knows where; we barely have any quality time together, and when we do, you're late for it without fail; we've stayed in this valley for longer than we need or even than we're welcome; out daughter's so alienated from us that we can't even talk to her anymore; little Toodles is constantly ill and depressed, yet you ignore him as if he weren't even there; Honda can't manage your unpredictable monitoring anymore...” She deliberately paused, taking the opportunity for a deep breath. “...And perhaps the most telling of all, I did not change my hair! How oblivious can you be?! It's...it's not even vaguely different, darling!” Levitating her water glass, she coaxed the flavorless liquid down her system as she observed the fruits of her work. Applejack was tight-lipped and wide-eyed with a bold blush painted on her cheeks, evidently not daring to say a word. And her dearest lover looked like he was about to faint. She coolly set her glass back down on the table. “Thank you for listening, Miss Applejack,” she said with grandeur. “I have to say, young Caramel and Macintosh lying to each other is understandable. After all...honesty has its consequences.” Money noisily forced breath into his lungs, his terribly flattering blush growing darker to match his hide more closely. Applejack seemed at a loss for a response. “...W-Well,” the farm mare finally said after a minute, “it's clear Ah'm jus' intrudin' now. Ah'll leave you two t'yer lunch....hahaha...” Saltine could tell that Applejack was deliberately cleaning up slowly to avoid any more conversation. Luckily for that mare, she needed to say nothing else. At least, not to her. As soon as it was just the two of them left, Money's breathing slowed and calmed completely as he furrowed his brow. Salt hoped he was trying to figure out what to say and not developing a fever. “I...”, started the silly pony, “I s-suppose we have a lot to discuss, my love.” Saltine rested her head on her hooves and glanced a final time at the Sugarcube Corner pair. The sun-colored mare wasn't smiling anymore, staring at some other abomination of a sweet. She smiled at her husband. “Yes, dearest, we do.” Junebug frowned at the empty plate between the two of them. The chocolate was too rich to be enjoyable for too long, but Mac certainly enjoyed it, if his lip-smacking was any indication. She herself thought the daisies were too dry for the snack to be worth it. And she would be dense to not realize what else was dry between them. It was not by accident that she wanted this treat when Pinkie Pie was throwing a party on the other side of town. “June?” June instantly felt invigorated at the sweet, rumbling voice. She wouldn't have admitted it before, but that was always the case, without fail. On reflection, she would have sought him out to ask him on a date after enough time had passed since Iron Pony; but she didn't expect the wonderful stallion to ask her out only four days after the fact! She counted herself lucky, if for no other reason than getting to see Mac's good side more often. On the other hoof, it was painfully clear that this was merely a side of Macintosh, that the admittedly entrancing smile on his face came at a price. Part of that price was not having the luxury of long thought. “Yeah, Mac? This is just a perfect day for this, isn't it?” “Eeyup. You, uh...you doin' alright, babe?” This was the same problem as yesterday: she had to guide him along the right path, else history would repeat itself. “I'm doing great! But I have to admit, this snack we got is a little--” “Wait here.” Junebug started a little. This was not the same as yesterday. He seemed almost panic-stricken as he got up to go into the bakery. Maybe she looked bored, so he was trying to impress her? Maybe it was something entirely unrelated? Whatever the case, she suspected he was about to get a cupcake lovingly topped with swirling, bright frosting and possibly garnished with a morning glory flowerhead. And he would do it all with the same, sunniest smile. What could she do? “Psst!” Junebug whipped her head in the direction of the colt's call but saw nothing. She was simply staring at the ponies in front of Quills & Sofas, looking like a frightened rabbit for seemingly nopony in particular. Satisfied that she wasn't the one being called, she turned her head back to face forward...and beheld something that shouldn't have existed anymore: Smartypants sat in front of her, slightly nudging the chocolate-stained plate in the center. It was sitting right on top of her copy of the Valley Chronicle. This...this was destroyed by Caramel, wasn't it? Just the sight of it reminds me of Twilight all crazy-maned, eugh. Yeah; Mac made a bit stink about it when it happened. The only time he mentioned his name after that day...What the hells is it doing here? Simply being made aware of the doll's presence subconsciously made her hearing more sensitive to lower noises. As she heard the sound of hooves begin to bore through the atmosphere from the bakery, she quickly snatched Smartypants and threw 'her' around the side of the building, making a mental note to retrieve it once Mac was out of the line of sight. Although, as soon as the sound dissipated and Mac finally came out with the sweet in tow, it occurred to her she had no idea when that would be. That, and... ...Why did I do that? “Ooh!”, she made sure to exclaim at the sight of the frosted...brownie? Unusual, but she supposed worse confectionery ideas existed. It probably tasted sinful, despite looking like an accident. Predictably, Big Mac grinned as he sat it down. Unpredictably, he said: “They jus' begged me t'take it from them! Cain't imagine why; looks delicious.” Junebug glanced to the kitchen obscured by the faux-candy walls, trying to imagine what the hells could have happened to make a frosted brownie unwanted. She found she couldn't imagine anything, but just the effort helped the phantom of that patchwork donkey fade from her mind. But if that were all she did, she knew it wouldn't be enough. Augh, I'm gonna blurt it out at this rate! Come on, June, you can figure this out...um...distractions, distractions, right. What would distract me from this? Ever careful not to betray her thoughts, she picked up her half of the brownie and took a small bite. It tasted like she was brained by a bag of sugar; maybe that was why the Cakes wanted to get rid of it. Then again, the over-sweet part came from the frosting; all she had to do was scrape it off and it was fine. Funnily enough, it seemed fitting for the scene in which she found herself too often. Sickeningly sweet amid bitter times...like an over-thorned rose in the center of a field of weeds. Inevitably, the odd plant out would be the undesired plant, and thus the rose would become the weed. But all it would take is a simple snip of secateurs to sever the shrub, and then maybe the flower could be saved... Of course! “Mac, babe?” “Eeyup?”, crooned the oblivious lug. “...You ever miss the summer we had?” Mac frowned, undoubtedly in confusion, while Junebug compromised with herself by stealing a glance toward the hidden doll. She couldn't actually tell if it were still there behind the corner; but then again, she couldn't see why anypony would whisk it away. She still had to look there despite the futility to calm herself, maybe take a deep breath. Yes. Everything would be fine. Everything would be fine. Mac would remember the confusing summer haze, and everything would be fine. “Ah guess a little. Ah don' miss all th' work we had t'do.” “I hear that,” said Junebug. “But I have to admit, it was wild what we got those rock-needles to do.” Mac's smile returned; Junebug could almost smell the mid-June dirt off of him with that smile, the very first patch of real dirt they recovered out of the unearthly terrain. “Whut wuz wild wuz you turnin' 'em into our ticket out. We were ready t'stomp all that crud out bit by bit...but then you up an' poured some water where yer little garden used t'be...” Junebug blushed, but not strictly out of flattery. “I was half-asleep, Mac; I thought my flowers were just covered in dust or something ridiculous like that.” She chuckled softly. “The only reason it worked--” “--Wuz cuz it wuz water that wuzn't touched by chaos, Ah remember. You don' hafta explain it every time, babe, heh heh!” Her blush grew deeper and darker. “...It was only an accident.” “But that 'accident' saved our hides. You should be proud, sugar! Ah still don' git why you won't tell anypony.” The flower mare allowed herself to smirk. "Oh...I don't want everypony going crazy over me. Oh, speaking of going crazy..." With practiced ease, she started talking on autopilot. She was used to doing it when working at the flower shop with Rose and company, gabbing about whatever happened to whoever. But this time, it really helped her reflect on her 'accident': that clumsy, but admittedly defining moment in her life...and in Equestria's history. She bore the trauma of the cataclysm itself without too much strain – at least not compared to everypony else – but it was the complete lack of natural plant life around her that tore her up inside. All of her precious stems and petals were devoured in the roar of forced decay. It wasn't until her slip-up that the jagged stone, in front of her then-dilapidated house, melted into the rich brown with which she was familiar. Then, as if it were icing on one of Pinkie's cakes, a cluster of seeds manifested and planted themselves in the soil. All she and the rest of Ponyville – the rest of Equestria – had to do was track down their purest water to retrieve their soil from the same curse that robbed it so greedily. “...so then Rose decided it just wasn't worth the trouble and left the poor boy alone. Oh, look here on page five!” Of course, this had to be balanced with using the pure water to drink...but not a moment too soon, the Pegasi managed to eke out the first rainclouds in two weeks, one for each community. With an entire reservoir of pure water available, ponies were able to sate their thirst and start reducing the corruption on the land in earnest. All because of a sleepy act of habit. “...but that's just silly, Mac! Brownies are always good. And don't take that from me; take it from your taste buds. They should have just left it bare.” She decided to simply act surprised when the other ponies noticed her garden with fertile soil, setting the pail next to it as an obvious clue; having too much attention on her just never sat well with her. She planned on telling nopony whatsoever...That was, until Big Macintosh came along and undoubtedly saw right through her. “...Ugh, alright, fine! Hahaha...it was nice being the one who salvaged the soil, I admit it. Why wouldn't it be nice, really? O-Oh, hey, that reminds me of...” It was two weeks after Caramel left, so Junebug wasn't sure how to relate to her sudden investigator. But the simple fact she had to consider their relationship was telling enough to her. She couldn't speak for him exactly, but she had to admit to some repressed interest at the time, to put it mildly. The only safe option she could see was to foster the new plants given to them by chance; he agreed to keep her secret, although they did talk about it in depth when it was safe. As much as she didn't like it, as much as it confused her...she deeply enjoyed it and achieved a deeper sense of peace, just from being next to him. It became a summer outside of time, making the future uncertain yet never worth pushing away. Even though that was exactly what they did. “...but that's all I have to say about it. By the way, where were you last week?” Junebug stopped herself from looking back at where Smartypants was concealed again. She was seeing reminders of their decision everywhere today: the doll was thrown aside like they had thrown their connection aside once Caramel returned. The void that was made that day wasn't filled even now. She still had to find random targets of conversation to gloss over it, even to herself when she was alone. It was pathetic, but it seemed unavoidable unless something drastic happened. Something else drastic, that is. ...Wait. What did she just say? Uh oh. Mac's face held no smile now. And she knew exactly why that was. She put the paper down below the table. “...Ah already told you: it's private.” Oh, is it so private that you can't tell your own girlfriend? Is that really how it is?! You're so...oooooh crud, this is not good, not good at all. Me and my big mouth. “I-I'm sorry, really. It's just--” “Don', June. Jus' don' even.” The bakery was oddly quiet. For some silly reason, Junebug found herself hoping the Cakes weren't eavesdropping on them. I really don't see why this is such a big deal! It's not like you're the mischievous type, so you should just tell me and have done with it! I can tell you hate keeping this secret, too! Why won't you just open up to me? “...So...” “So whut?” It seemed his humor wasn't coming back easily. At that moment, Junebug was struck with the strangest inspiration. Although she wasn't prepared to give up what was given to her – albeit under awful circumstances – she thought it made sense to raise the stakes a little. Maybe then some shadow of intimacy could be restored between them. “...So are we never going to be able to talk about it?”, she asked plainly. “June...!”, Big Macintosh growled. “I'm serious! We can't just gossip about random things all the time! We need to...share our lives, you know?” She kept herself from adding 'starting with that trip you took.' “Ah don' need t'share that. An' none o' yer business why! It's...” Junebug shuddered as Mac took a very heavy sigh. “...Ah don' mean nothin' by it, babe. Honest. Ah jus' gotta keep this t'mahself fer however long. An' besides...”, he said with a sudden shift in tone, moving from defensive to offensive, so to speak, “...it's still early fer us. You can gossip 'bout yer friends all you want, an' Ah'm happy t'listen. S'no big deal.” If it weren't for how we got together, I wouldn't think it was a big deal, either. Four days and you're my boyfriend? I'm not stupid; I know a rebound when I see one. Well, we'll see about that. Junebug recoiled at her last thought. Since when did she think thoughts like that? It was horrible what happened, and she dearly hoped that Caramel would return to Ponyville and not wallow away in Canterlot. Then again, if there were a place to wallow...No, it made no difference! Caramel was her friend, and what she and Mac were doing was just weird. The only thing about it was that she wasn't about to stop it... I guess good and evil really do walk side by side. “...you an' him are so alike, Ah suppose s'no wonder Ah picked you. Yer both so damn pushy.” “E-excuse me?!” Mac jumped at her voice, looking just as surprised as she felt. “U-Uh, nothin'! Nothin' at all, jus'...haha, me an' mah big mouth...” Junebug was almost bowled over at the irony of that sentence; let alone the fact she wasn't buying it for a second. Frankly, she was surprised he mentioned his last relationship. Thinking over her options, she recognized how she stepped on unfriendly territory earlier, and so decided to just call it even. “Haha...yeah. You know what, babe?” “E-Eey...yeah?” “You're right. It's no big deal.” She didn't bother internalizing her emotion this time, laughing mindlessly with her stud like nothing really mattered. After all, if she played her cards right...nothing really would. She just wished she didn't have to play at all; but if she weren't playing, somepony else would be. They both finally decided their lunch date was over and got up. Having paid the requisite bits earlier, they decided to have a short stroll by the north side of the valley. This was the relationship...well, if it could be called that, that she remembered and strived for with each tactic. Just the two of them enjoying themselves, not a word needing to be spoken...why talk and ruin the moment? “WHUT?!” Case in point. Instantly remembering what she had forgotten, and filled with dread at the realization, Junebug turned around to see Big Macintosh gob-smacked at the stuffed donkey toy lying face-first in a mud pile. She hoped with all her heart that he wouldn't turn around and prompt her for an answer with those damn entrancing eyes, green with indignant beauty. She couldn't take those eyes, not when they bore right into her soul like that. She...she just couldn't risk it; she had to act before it happened. “What's that thing?” Spike wasn't truly sure of anything anymore. That little nugget of comfort had been crushed underhoof when he was transformed in the springtime. Granted, he had requested it, but it seemed ever since that confusing day, everything else became even more confusing in a series of falling dominoes. But no matter how confused he was or would become, he had to do his part for the community. That was exactly why he was bothering to put on his humiliating dragon scale suit as he ascended in the balloon to comment on the Running of the Leaves, even though hardly anypony was there and he had abandoned that form and all it made him suffer. That, and Rarity made it for him a long time ago. He wasn't about to break a promise. A few dozen meters above the ground, he could see the unfortunate situation even more clearly: the thirty-something ponies sick from some Everfree pathogen left the track with only half of the needed amount to make the leaves fall. It was made especially poignant in that the cataclysm made the leaves burst into multihued flame before said flame consumed all the trees throughout Equestria. Only by the grace of his fight alongside Twilight and their friends were they able to stop the upheaval in time to save whatever sapling trees remained – the only saplings strong enough to resist the abominable energy coursing through the land. No matter how long he lived, he would remember the fury of Draconequii when they joined forces. If he wasn't able to save Twilight...he wasn't sure what would have happened. He wasn't sure how he could live with himself if that were what really happened. But well, that had nothing to do with making leaves fall from trees, did it? Nope, not really. ...But that didn't stop him from thinking of it, especially since the solution to this predicament wasn't showing itself. Worse came to worse, he could run with them; he had the bulk for it now. And it wasn't like he wasn't used to running...Revolt and Discord made sure he was fit for any marathon. It only took the shallowest thought of Revolt to make him shiver. It wasn't so much a sexless Draconequus itself that seemed so jarring to him: it was what it implied. If Revolt was sexless, and Discord was male...there was a chance of a female running around somewhere in the world. Twilight could keep telling him he was crazy all day, but it wouldn't make a difference. Banishing those two alone to the Hell of Oblivion wasn't going to be enough; it was only a matter of time, he could feel it down to his hooves. Swallowing his anxiety, he cleared his throat to speak into the microphone. “The Running of the Leaves is taking any last-minute volunteers. Don't be shy! Now's your chance to work your legs and show what you've got!” This is so embarrassing. It's like the Pegasi Tornado all over again...but worse. T-then again, it's not like this will make us run out of water, just...slow things down a little. Oh, please Celestia, just bail me out this once! Haven't I done enough?! He called out over the next fifteen minutes, but no such luck came upon him. It seemed he really would have to help out the thirteen ponies that were actually down there: they couldn't get behind schedule, or he would never hear the end of it! He was already dreading the press backlash, as unjustified as it would be. Even though organization was more Twilight's specialty, this certainly wasn't his fault. But on the other hoof, participating in the Running itself would make him look good... Spike sighed. Getting press over a change like he went through was nice; getting press just because was tiresome. Ponies like Rarity and Caramel were left alone as soon as the event passed by...but apparently Spike wasn't one of those ponies. Well, at least he would be one of those ponies that didn't crack under pressure. If only he had a few more runners to make a fatter photo op... “It's about time!” “Now we'll kick some butt! Oh, I'm PUMPED now!” Could it be? “It's good t'see you here, ain't that right, Rainbow?” “Hells yeah, it's good! You're going down, heartbreaker!” Eugh. Yes, it was. Yes...YES! This was perfect! “RAINBOW!” “...Too soon?” It was like a prayer answered from Paradise. “WAY too soon!” “Alright, I'm sorry, sheesh...” Everything would be fine. Everything would be fine. Big Macintosh overcoming his personal troubles to help the town? It would fit the bill perfectly. “...Don' worry 'bout it none, Rainbow. Let's jus' git these here leaves down.” “That's more like it!” ...After all, what better time than now? “Big brother, you sure 'bout this? Ah mean, Ah could round up our herd o' cows an' jus'--” “No need. Ah got...this...” What? Oh, no. He didn't like that tone. He didn't like it at all. What was going on? Spike anxiously scanned the area to find...ah. So that was why. The guy did say he was coming back for this. Spike had completely forgotten amid all the minutiae. “N-Now let's be civil 'bout this. We're all here t'run fer th' good o' th' trees. We worked awful hard t'git them back. An' let's be honest, we need all th' help we can git now. We good?” “Um...”, said Spike from the balloon, “AJ? Open your eyes.” She opened them and looked around her: all the ponies except for the Apple siblings and Rainbow Dash had fled the scene, and no guesses needed as to why. So much for his announcing gig. Without even looking, Spike knew in heart that Caramel saw what was happening and just 'smiled.' ...Then again, looking at him now, it seemed the pony was in a friendly mood? What for? He had just been considerably insulted: if it were him, Spike would have at least sneered a little. But Caramel didn't even seem troubled. To think that pony was the reason he still had nightmares of hordes of hoof-wrestling horses. “Uh....heh heh,” began Spike, trying to soothe his poor nerves. “Well, this is just off the cuff, but I'm confident these four ponies can do the job! There's certainly enough power between them, especially with--” “Spike!”, shouted Caramel to the balloon. “Just...don't bother. Don't do that to yourself. You should come down.” He couldn't believe his ears. Somepony told him to take it easy. Caramel of all ponies, after everything that happened, was saying exactly what he wanted to hear without even being prompted. He almost wanted to cry. “...You seem different, Caramel,” he opted to say instead. Caramel shrugged as he replied: “I feel different.” “....I'll just come down, then.” “Good idea.” Turning off the microphone, the severity of the situation was made apparent to him again. The two former lovers were standing on the extreme ends of the starting line, refusing to look at each other. Well, Big Macintosh was refusing to look to his left. Caramel still seemed much more agreeable than two weeks ago, looking all around him with a cool, mildly concerned gaze. Maybe Canterlot had set him straight? Dammit, I'm still in announcer mode. I'm getting out of here. ...No no, they still need a good start. I'll just dismiss the grand marshal and make it simple. Having done as he promised himself, Spike held the whistle between his teeth somewhat unsteadily. The four other ponies seemed to just stand there awkwardly, making it unclear when to start, or even if they should start at all. “Uh...”, started Rainbow, “I, uh, should probably--” “Rainbow, don' you DARE skimp out on this.” “Oh, come ON, this is so awkward it's creepy. I really need to--” “You know what, Rainbow?”, interjected Caramel. “You and Applejack probably should go.” “Whut did--” “Eeyup.” Spike had never seen Applejack quite so stunned in his time in Ponyville. Then again, he was sure he looked fairly taken aback as well, having dropped the whistle as his jaw dropped. Rainbow Dash flew off toward her home, Spike surmised by the rushing wind to his right. “Ah don'...BELIEVE this! You cain't jus'--” “Eeyup, Ah can. Now go.” “Yer bein' silly! Jus' let us--” “Ah SAID you should GO, sis. Ah'm yer elder, an' you'll obey me!” “MACINTOSH, DON' YOU DARE--” “GIT TH' FUCK OUTTA HERE BEFORE AH...j-jus' GO, NOW!” There was nothing more to say. Applejack was gone. Spike sounded the whistle, and Big Macintosh and Caramel started running down the bare dirt path. Spike left.
RememberThunder and blood. That was all Big Macintosh could hear as he raced aside his...assistant, yes...to do what had to be done. Keeping his face forward, he made a point of stomping into the ground with each gallop, pretending the assistant's stomps were just an echo of his own. Thousands of brittle leaves trembled and collapsed to the soil, still damp from the morning's dew decorating their edges. He wished he could see the cascade of reds and yellows and oranges and browns behind him; he settled for appreciating the multihued trees in front of him as they raced by. They shook with all eight hooves before succumbing themselves to the thunder, dancing and swaying like muted flames. “...So are we on speaking terms?” The blood still engorged his inner ears, forcing odd disturbances like voices to hum in his brain. How odd. One of them resembled Applejack's dismay before they started running. At least it was bottled inside his head, instead of cheerfully smothering the mood in unnatural therapy. No, he kept the voice bottled for its own sake. He briefly closed his eyes and inhaled deeply to clear his thoughts. But as soon as he opened them again, the non-flames gifted their own clarity to him with each sway. “I saw you and June yesterday. You two are cute together...surprisingly.” Macintosh wished he weren't wearing his glasses. If he could let his eyes lose their focus, then the plant-flames might appear almost alive in their sickly dance. Then again, he never truly appreciated the understated beauty of the forest along the walking path: a good pair of lenses made that much more feasible. The sky was overcast as well, ensuring no rogue sunbeam would blind his corrected vision. “...I'm sorry. Okay? If nothing else, I want you to understand that. I'm really, really sorry. I-I did some thinking while I was away, and I see things a lot more clearly now. A-And I'm not trying to pull anything here. I couldn't if I tried...” The stream of blood in his ears receded slightly. Yet the voices became clearer. “I...”, mumbled the assistant, “I never actually destroyed Smartypants. I mean, I know you know that now, but...I had to say it. I just had a fake one made and ruined that one to spite you. I...I shouldn't have lost my temper from just being jealous for no good reason. Or, at least I thought...n-nevermind. Oh, by the way, did you know that belonged to Twilight this whole time? J-Just curious is all.” Big Mac remembered where Patches was at that time: sitting next to his bed on the small set of drawers. He got that set of drawers a year ago specifically so he could set her on it. Seeing her tossed aside by Caramel in a mud pit, behind the bakery where he was courting Junebug...he had to lie down after that. He was tempted to make his own doll of Caramel and tear that up. Instead, he undertook the nobler response. He carefully washed the mud off her poor, dingy hide and mane; tenderly attached her to a clothesline to dry, with Winona watching over it; and lovingly ferried her back to her wooden throne by his side. And by the time his head was finally clear...he wasn't even mad. It would have been cruel to be mad, although he had every right to be. Well, okay, he was still mad, but that was his problem. No, something else had to be done. At least his assistant seemed to be behaving himself for now. ...Maybe this'll be easier than Ah thought. Maybe. Jus' don' look at him fer now. “...I was too scared to give it to you personally. I shouldn't have wussed out on that either. I-I have no excuse for it, and I'm truly sorry. B-But anyway, I talked to Twilight about it before I left, and she said you can keep it. And...” Trickles of sweat dropped tentatively onto his glasses. He kept thundering as if his vision were crystal clear. “...Well, the point is we don't have to avoid each other all the time. We can still...acknowledge each other if nothing else. Please...” Big Macintosh sighed. He shouldn't have ignored what the pony said so easily. After all, here was his chance. He needed to calm down and not ruin what he had been given unconditionally. He could make Caramel do what should have been done the moment the Stallions' Field Cup ended. “...Ah've done some thinkin', too. But Ah don' think it wuz th' same kinda thinkin' you did.” Beyond reason, the thunder seemed much quieter...or was the reason so imperceptible after all? Mac was actually glad that his vision was obscured. Even if it was going to be easier, that wasn't to say it would truly be easy at all. And that pretty little face of his was not going to help. “Huh?” Careful, now. He's not yer enemy. Jus'...jus' lead him along. “Well, you go first. Whut'd you think 'bout?” Both of them vaulted over a small stream, but Mac could see that Mel was lagging behind a little. Although a small part of him protested, he made sure to slow his pace to match. “Uh...alright. It's a bit of a story, but it started when I arrived at Canterlot...” ...but I'm sure they were just as frustrated as I was. Having an incomplete talent wasn't even heard of at that time; it was completely counterintuitive. So they floundered, my parents floundered, and I floundered as we all tried to make do with what we had. Caramel stopped and checked how much he had written. At forty-five pages, it was turning into quite the essay. He turned an ear behind him: Fancy Pants was still showering two doors away. Macintosh was different, though. He was free of all that baggage. I adored his warm and unassuming attitude to others, and I envied his Paradise-given prowess to destroy any obstacles to his and others' lives. If anything, I resented him a little: I needed prowess like that more than most ponies, but the closest thing to that was completely inappropriate. I wanted his love and guidance, but it wouldn't have solved anything. That was partly why I held back from him. He must have thought I was too proud to associate with somepony stronger than him; but as he told me, he admired my stubborn will to succeed. Unfortunately, my stubborn will also kept me from relating to him on a deeper level. We talked and played a little when we were still small...but especially once my support system vanished, we barely interacted at all. I hated it...and I wouldn't have tolerated anything else. It was easy for me to forget most everything just by watching him. Others may call it creepy, and yeah, I guess it was. But I would see him play with his sisters, cart ponies around, laugh with them, work for them, be an integral part of their lives...and I had no input in it at all. I was able to merely spectate his life as a harmonic, wholesome object. There were small moments where I even forgot I had a body! I felt calm and balanced as a result...or at least I did for a time. Even when Macintosh would humor some “curious” mares hanging around the farm, I was able to detach myself and appreciate how contented they all were. Jealously was just a bittersweet drink keeping my insides warm. I forgot how I was an awkward detriment to the town's collective, and to his work schedule. I forgot Caramel Shine, becoming just 'Caramel'. And that was how it was. That was how I got through three years of being homeless. Every now and then, I would 'date' some mares to try and eke out something better for myself...but it was a joke to even call them that. Truthfully, it was just an excuse to mooch off of their hospitality and get a warm bed for the night. I lived that way as long as I could, up until it became too exhausting to put up that front; eventually, I just hid away in an Apple Family barn and atrophied. But when Spike turned into a pony and the entire town metamorphosed into a sitting powder keg, I saw a new opportunity forming in the distance. All I had to do was wait for the largest, ugliest development to take place. And there it was: the joke that was the Ponyville Jubilee and the Stallions' Field Cup. It was the perfect excuse for the new money to watch the lower class run around and even get into fights: I'm told this wasn't so uncommon a thousand years ago. I thought that the horseshoe-throwing segment of the Cup was my chance to break free from my horrible limitations and find some miraculous way to live happily. What happened instead changed me permanently. Celestia's sun had climbed to the cen--- “I'm finished now, if you wish to take one yourself.” Slightly startled, Caramel dropped his quill and turned to face his gracious...and very damp host. The fact Fancy Pants offered to let him stay for this long was staggeringly generous. And stepping out at odd hours? No questions asked. Perhaps the discreet pony really did understand Caramel's delicate situation and decided to merely be a stepping stone, instead of a ladder. He would have been grateful for either from him, and he was flabbergasted at the wealth and influence that surrounded him just for being near the stallion. It was still hard to imagine that the wealth Caramel himself had could have easily made a life like this for him. Or at least, that was the case for a few more days. Seeing the fancy pony cool and refreshed from the mineral-rich aquifer water made him realize how hot and stuffy he felt. The room he was given needed better ventilation. Taking a deep breath, he turned away to continue writing...only to remember he had dropped his quill. “M-Maybe later,” Caramel answered. “I just want to finish up this part.” Acting on his word, he retrieved the quill from the floor and made to wipe any dirt off the tip. But as he examined it, he looked at the floor again and saw that no dirt could have possibly come off the impeccable, marble layer. Caramel wasn't even sure he had seen a spotless floor in all those doctor's offices he endured. But there it was, softly shining from the fading purples of the setting sun...yielding to the pure black ink as it spread its stain carelessly. “That particular quill has a nasty habit of falling away from me, oddly enough,” commented Fancy Pants. “At the moment when I change my focus, it leaps from my hoof as if to spite me! If that's the case, then I wonder what I did wrong.” Caramel snickered, but he still found it hard to tear his gaze away from the ink pool. He ended up compromising with himself by looking for a way to clean it. Scanning the writing desk, he surprisingly found nothing; scanning behind him and to the right, the mandatory luxurious bed and the perfectly complimentary dressers held no obvious cleaning implement; now to the left, he ignored Fancy Pants' amused face to scan the single shelf between two entrances to branching hallways...which had nothing he could use. A deep blush undoubtedly must have colored his neck and shoulders. He should have checked for a cleaning cloth before he started using the ink! What was he supposed to do now?! ...Why am I so upset over this? “Ahem,” said Fancy Pants, as if the grunt were a complete sentence. “...Haha,” blustered Caramel. “I-I'm sorry about your floor. W-Where could I could something to clean--” “Oh, I wouldn't worry about it,” interrupted Fancy Pants, as if the off-hoofed comment were a deeply philosophical mantra. “You need to focus, and I could use a refresher on elimination spells.” He smirked, as if humor were the only valid conclusion to draw. “Then again, I may just leave it there: a nice contrast against the obnoxious white, don't you think?” Caramel smiled. He just sat there and smiled. “...I-I suppose it is.” Who...Who does that? Who just leaves ink on the floor to get stepped on and trip somepony up? And why am I going along with it, for that matter?! STOP SMILING, DAMMIT! “...Oh, don't pull that face,” chided Fancy Pants with a bemused frown. “I was only joking. Goodness me, you look like I just told you all your money had been whisked away.” Caramel tried to reclaim his smile, but even he knew it came off as a painfully self-aware grin. He had no way to escape this awkward little moment gracefully. So instead, he decided to take the obviously leading comment to its conclusion. “Oh, how subtle,” he softly mocked. “I'm still doing it. I just can't live with that much money I won't use, and other ponies actually need it. It's the best idea I've had all month.” Predictably, Fancy Pants sighed in disappointment...but Caramel couldn't have predicted just how profound it sounded. Oh, who was he kidding? Everything this stallion did came off as poignant and meaningful. The classic white hide and blue mane; the charm-drowned eyes unleashing a pinpoint gaze on the audience; the almost comically smooth baritone hitting all the right notes; the unavoidable fact that the guy was large and in charge...nothing about him went against his reputation. If anything, his appearance enhanced it to where he could pretend to be anything he wanted. Didn't it? In any case-- “In any case,” persisted Fancy Pants, “At least keep a large enough sum to pay for your cost of living back home for a year. I don't care what this city makes ponies think: getting established is not an overnight job. Not to mention...” For the first time, Caramel saw Fancy Pants look puzzled. Saying he needed some time away from Ponyville without explanation? Offered a place to stay. Stepping out without a word to the guy, to do some things he'd rather not ponder? Smiled and accepted it. Breaking down and showing him just how torn up he was about losing Macintosh over his own paranoia? Not an inch of the fancy pony's face was unsympathetic. It was almost...it was almost like he had been expecting Caramel to inconvenience him. But now a sliver of uncertainty ran down that pretty mask. He had completely forgotten about the ink blot. “...What exactly are you going to do? Abilities aside, your – *ahem* – 'legacy' will make it difficult for you to get into a business.” ...And suddenly, the blot spread over his mind again, steadily staining the pristine floor even further. “Ponyville has plenty of business that need a helping hoof, whether they'll admit it or not,” answered Caramel, as if it were the only logical observation. “If my 'legacy' closes too many doors, then...the oranges in the fields will be ripe come winter...” For some reason he couldn't fathom, he didn't stop himself from adding that last sentence. It ricocheted off the walls of his throat and bounced off his tongue with no regard to how pathetic it made him look. Why was he acting so weird; was he really that hot? He wasn't surprised at Fancy Pants' disapproving sneer. “I can't say I've seen a pony blush from certainty,” said Fancy Pants. “You've made your position clear, but I'll say it one last time: please reconsider. A reputation is a tricky thing to maintain, let alone repair. You still have time.” You still have time...hmph. I have time, but not the time I need. I need...what I need is... Realization struck the beige pony, as if it were waiting to do so for far too long. He didn't have to reject the advice being offered to him, nor did he have to demote it to a strawpony argument. If he opened up to the ideas he was offered – no matter how flawed they might be – then he could learn something. Hells, the attitude of receiving ideas more carefully was more likely to win-over any employer than throwing up a wall. So he didn't have to resist Fancy Pants...just because... And in that moment, Caramel realized why he felt so damn hot. He smacked his lips. “...I'll think about it.” Expecting a dramatic sigh of relief, Caramel instead saw Fancy Pants smile gently...a cruel kind of gentleness. He couldn't describe it, but the barest curve of those lips made the fancy pony look like something beyond the mortal realm. It was as if the Hell of Apathy had released one Changeling to take that persuasive form, just to taunt him. Well, whether divine or devilish, everything about that serene face made him feel dirty. Just how fickle can a pony be...? Barely two weeks, and I'm trying to forget him already. Heh. A big pony like Big Macintosh? Couldn't escape him if I tried. And damn, I've tried... Suddenly, he saw the too-fancy pony levitate a cloth from the dresser and will it over to him, dabbing his wet cheek. His cheek was wet. He was crying in front of the most dignified pony in all of Equestria. And for some reason, he didn't feel anything but flattered. “Excellent,” soothed Fancy Pants. “I knew I could get you to see sense.” The still damp pony looked askance to the now moonlit window. “As for...the other decision you're considering, I should make myself clear.” Caramel stopped breathing. He couldn't help it. “I am...fond of you, have no doubt, but fondness is where it ends. I would not move mountains to shade you from the sun, nor trick the stars to shine brighter where you stand. But I hold the greatest respect for the stallion that would.” ...There it was. If the blush that dirtied his face were mild before, it must have spread into a blood-drenched fire now. Blazing calmly and with a gentle cruelty, patiently eroding his peace of mind; he feared breathing lest he risk it growing into a greedy inferno. The pinpoint gaze would have combusted it all at once, so he turned to have it pierce his fur instead of his soul. Instead, he absorbed the sight of the ink and found it could only be seconds away from a similar fate. The moonlight showed it wasn't black, but a remarkably dark blue. Pages and pages of his life were scrawled with dark blue ink. He forced breath into his lungs without a word. He wasn't...sad. Truth be told, he mostly just felt...embarrassed? “The shower's waiting for you,” offered Fancy Pants. “You should clean up and get some rest.” Caramel felt himself complying far too easily than normal. He felt like a little foal again, oblivious and suggestible to the slightest idea. Without his permission, his fire-red horseshoe and its royal brother pulled him toward the floor, deliberately avoiding the stain when the tear-stained cloth wiped it clear and retrieved the errant quill. “U-Uh,” stammered Caramel, “I-I would've--” “Done it instead? My silly friend shouldn't worry about it,” insisted Fancy Pants. “He has a much bigger mess to manage.” In the back of his mind, he could hear the words Oh, very clever make circles around his ears. But his throat relentlessly strangled his voice beyond any hope of release. Instead, he weakly nodded and got on all fours, shakily cantering to the exorbitant wash room down the hall. As he gazed in the wash room's fogged mirror, he became aware of how bitter the inside of his mouth tasted. “...On second thought, I'll just skip to the moral.” Macintosh felt his lips stretch into a weary frown. It didn't take Caramel five seconds to reconsider his little story; it was painfully clear something was being hidden. He kept his ears up and alert, despite the ponderous thought of just how much information he would have to uncover later. They were halfway through the trek when they passed by the field where the Iron Pony Competition was held. All he had to do was look at it to shudder with discomfort. Now that he thought about it, the worst moments of their relationship both took place right there in front of a gaping audience. As young as their bond was, it was oddly...public and exposed, everypony throwing opinions around that he didn't care to know. His life really had been quieter since breaking it off with the silly pony. Finally daring to look to his right, he saw Caramel deliberately avoiding looking at the field. Even his refracted vision from the smeared sweat on the lenses couldn't hide that from him. For once, he understood his reaction completely. “The longer I spent up there, the more I realized how idiotic I acted with us. I...eugh, just thinking about it...I was so nervous about being discreet with the operation that I forgot who I was hiding it from. Yeah, I wanted it done right and only one pony I knew could do it. But I-I shouldn't have hid it from you, no matter how much you freaked me out when you lost your temper.” Before, he had to consciously avoid looking at Caramel to focus on guiding the prodigal pony to what he needed to know. Now, he found it greatly preferable to keep looking forward and not look his mistakes in the eyes. He took a deep breath to soothe his nerves. “I think it was just...”, continued Caramel, “...it all just happened way too fast. I hadn't been in a serious relationship before, and suddenly I had to address everything that had ruined my life at once! It was...unfair of me to take it out on you when you were only trying to help. I should have considered your feelings more while it was all happening.” Big Macintosh mildly shook his head as he said: “Nnope.” “H-Huh?” “Wuzn't that,” countered Mac gruffly. “You woulda been right t'tell me you were worried 'bout gettin' a botched operation. Shoot, Ah cain't blame you in th' slightest. Whut you shoulda done is passed yer decision by me before you made it.” Caramel fell silent, and the subtle flames of the falling leaves blazed even brighter; perhaps the water in front of him only made it bolder? As the void of silence grew longer and larger, thunder and blood struggled to fill its expanse. The complementary sides warred to establish domain over the deciduous forest, neither winning but both making the contrast unbearable. Macintosh tried to force out what he wanted to say, but his voice was cancelled amid all the psychic bloodshed. “...You're right,” Caramel finally said, forcing an armistice. “I should have made you part of that decision. I'm sorry.” The void was defeated, and the pretty flames falling behind them consumed the blood pounding through his flesh. But something else took its place. Now that he was free to do what he intended, he felt afraid to do so. Unconditional surrender could make the most brutal horse feel generous; but this has nothing to do with compassion. It was now clear as day that he had to play the part of defendant now. ...At least he was mostly sure it had nothing to do with compassion. But he couldn't let the past distract him. They both ran in front of the flames wordlessly, at least one of them not even considering where exactly they were. “...Come on, Big Mac. Say something. Don't leave me in the dark here...” Tell him tell him tell him, now's th' time! You've been plannin' this fer over a week! Why're you clammin' up now?! Jus'...start slow an' keep him relaxed. “Eh...”, started the awkward farm pony, “T-Thank you fer...fer bein' sensible. Ah do git it wuz nerve-wrackin' fer you, an' Ah shouldn't've behaved th' way Ah did. Apology accepted. N-Now...Ah need you t'listen t'me f-fer a bit.” “...Really?”, asked Caramel suddenly. “Wow. I thought this would be a lot rougher. Hells, I thought bringing up Smartypants would--” “Ah'm serious,” insisted Macintosh more calmly. “Ah need you t'listen t'me seriously; Ah scared off mah own sister fer this. An' her name's Patches, fer yer information, mister.” Only the grace of the fact Macintosh was galloping down a dirt road kept him from trembling, although it would have been slight. It occurred to him just how much was riding on this exchange: if he didn't manage to convince Caramel, then their future – possibly the future of certain elements in Ponyville and beyond – would become uncertain. Again. Enough cults and monsters and general weirdos vied to shake their morale; this was one point of chaos that could be and needed to be neutralized. “Take your time,” said Caramel in a calm voice. “It's been a weird...adventure, let's put it that way.” Taking two short gasps for fresh air, Mac ignored the bitter taste in his mouth and urged himself forward. “Ah...Ah suppose Ah should start with us,” he said with surprising serenity. “Yer daddy aside, Ah didn't approach our relationship right.” “Yeah...me neither”, interjected Caramel. “We went way too fast without stopping to think. I didn't really believe you loved me; you didn't know why you loved me; not to mention we had trouble loving each other...excuses be damned. We were scared and didn't acknowledge it! I-I mean, I assume that's what you're getting at.” “S-Sorta,” responded Macintosh. “Ah was so confused Ah couldn't think clear. In particular, Ah didn't realize that Ah...you...we...” Spurred by the thought of the revelation, he looked at the beige menace next to him. Even now, he couldn't articulate quite how he felt being with him. Warm memories mixed with horrible ones without rhyme or reason. But from the first time he stepped off the roller coaster in his heart, he saw the one truth that he could state with depressing clarity. Macintosh slowed down, with Caramel matching the new pace. “...W-Well? What is it?!” Breathe, Macintosh, breathe. It'll all be okay. “Ah...Ah never loved you,” he finally uttered in shallow breath. “N-Now before you say anythin', please jus' lemme explain it all. Ah gotta say mah piece here. Okay?” It almost went without saying that he wasn't looking at Caramel anymore, obscured or not. It would be self-sabotage to do so. If Caramel interrupted his flow as he painted his humiliating portrait, it would only make him fall back into that half-crazed mudslinging; let alone if he saw Caramel's blurry face as he tried to justify his behavior for the past four months. It was bad enough that he knew how it probably looked: the same face that haunted him at the crevice. After an insufferable pause, Caramel finally croaked out a pitiful: “Fine.” “Thank you,” said Big Macintosh gratefully. “Ah thought you were th' one fer me fer th' longest time...but it wuz all in mah head. You looked like somepony Ah could live with, but Ah never pictured how or where or whut it would all mean. Ah respected you an' wuz a mite fond o' you, don' git me wrong. But once Ah saw who you really were...once Ah saw Ah didn't know a damn thing 'bout you...” Macintosh slowed down even further, allowing him to take a deeper breath that was desperately needed. He had to stomp his hooves to make sure the leaves were still falling, making him almost bounce with each gallop. “Ah shoulda realized Ah wuzn't helpin' you cuz Ah wuz in love. It wuz t'prove Ah wuz a good pony despite neglectin' you all this time. Ah wuz...bein' selfish.” “We should just stop here,” said Caramel, eliminating any ambiguity by slowing to a trot, and then a full stop. Macintosh hesitantly followed suit, despite having to turn around and walk back toward him. His obscured glasses could only show him a beige blur amid the lazy flames and upturned clods of earth. And yet he couldn't stand the sight of that blur returning his gaze. His relaxing body became vulnerable to the trembles he anticipated, growing in intensity with each step shaping the blur into the pony who had changed him so thoroughly. No matter how much he tried to change back, it was obvious that the name Big Macintosh carried a different weight to everypony now. It certainly carried a different weight right at this moment, the exact mood battering his psyche as he sat down in front of his ex. It was amazing to him how he could come to fear such a small and cute pony. Horseshoes made a hell of a difference. Caramel sat silently, not meeting eyes with him. “E-Eeyup,” acquiesced Macintosh. “Well, seein' whut you'd been reduced ta jus'...got t'me in a way Ah didn't understand. Ah still cain't forgive yer daddy fer puttin' you in that situation, an' Ah still wish you had asked fer help; but mostly Ah hated how Ah wuz too clueless t'do nothin' 'bout it. So Ah tried t'do whut yer daddy couldn't...an' that wuz th' wrong thing t'do altogether.” Caramel was still silent and avoided his gaze as Macintosh inhaled deeply again. “Whut Ah shoulda done,” continued Macintosh, “wuz taken you t' th' ponies who coulda actually helped you. But Ah jus' let you talk me into flounderin' without a plan. That's not love, that's foolishness. Then after this summer happened...um...”, he stalled as he wiped his brow, careful to avoid his glasses, “well, even at th' time, it felt a little like an obligation.” Macintosh paused as he saw Caramel furrow his brow. No, no, he had to focus. He had almost forgotten his original objective amid the blaze. “It's different with June, though. Ah jus' spent time with her, nothin' fancy or dramatic, an' Ah started wantin' t'spend time with her more an' more. She didn't give me anythin' but herself; n-not that Ah'm tryin' t'shame you or nothin', but it's true. It's jus' nice an' calm with her.” “It's easier,” commented Caramel without any inflection. “Uh, y-yeah,” responded Macintosh. “That's a good way t'put it. Anyway, we're not tryin' t'do anythin' but have a good time together. An' that's really how it should be. Maybe Ah'll grow t'love her – in fact, Ah'm sure that's whut's happenin' – but nopony's forcin' it. Ah had to force it with you, an' that hurt you more than me.” This time, Caramel was the one to inhale deeply. “Ah swear Ah wuzn't lyin' t'you on purpose. Dear Gods of Paradise, Ah swear it. Ah wuz jus' sore confused with everythin' that happened this year...an' with not ever bein' in real love, though Ah thought it wuz. Heh,” he chuckled weakly, “maybe that's why Ah have a green cutie mark after all, th' way Ah wuz actin'. Jumpin' into love without a clue...jumpin' into all sorts o' messes jus' cuz Ah felt Ah hadta. Eeyup.” Ever so softly, Macintosh heard Caramel whisper: “But you always get to the core of the matter.” He always knew that was the true nature of his talent, but it was weird hearing it from the pony who gave him the most trouble for it. Perhaps that was due to Caramel's talent being extremely vague: just something to do with horseshoes. Or maybe that was just the autumn morning. It was certainly beautiful enough to take his mind off the worst of the whole ordeal. Sometimes. “More than anythin' else,” he persisted, “Ah shouldn't've forced mahself on yer, eh, difficult past. S'not a good idea t'have a confused pony helpin' another confused pony. An' Ah mean nothin' but the words Ah speak here, but yer sure as all six hells confused.” “Wait, wait, wait a minute here,” interrupted Caramel. “I'm the confused one now?” “Eeyup.” An' whut d'you mean now? A sharp wind whisked the fallen leaves into a short-lived whirlwind around them. Macintosh felt himself, beyond reason, wishing it had been much larger and much longer. “...Okay. Confused about what?” “Jus'...confused,” said Macintosh helplessly. “You admitted how you behaved poorly, so don' take me th' wrong way here. But confused is th' only way t'describe you! Fer everythin' you did the past few months – hells, further back than that – Ah cain't guess whut you were hopin' t'gain from it. You don' even know, do you?” “Well...”, hesitated Caramel, “yes, I do know! I'm not confused about that at all; if anything, it's obvious in hindsight! What I AM confused about is--” “Nngh, forget it,” Macintosh interrupted, rubbing his head where it began to ache. “Like Ah said, Ah'm not th' one t'be doin' this stuff. All Ah'll say is Ah don' think poorly of you fer it anymore. Ah see you didn't know whut you were doin'. That's why Ah want t'make you a deal, Caramel.” “...A deal?” “Eeyup. Ah'll drop any pretense with us an' support you in yer efforts from now on...if'n you start seein' a therapist. Twilight tells me she knows a darn good one. So...what say you?” No whirlwind imposed its whimsy on them now. The ponymade forest was completely silent, with the leaves on the ground retired and the leaves still on the branches stubbornly resisting their fate. No birds or squirrels or other little critters were around them. That was curious, now that Macintosh thought about it: they usually hung around this section, if he remembered correctly. Yes, just before the cottage and actually close to the (now pointless) finish line. But a simple look told him they weren't there, either. Whatever the reason, it was horrible timing: he would have given most anything he had for some noise, some deterrent from the soul-crushing quiet that bore down on him now. Finally, Caramel looked up and said: “I'll agree to your deal if you clarify something for me.” Half-crazed with relief, Macintosh almost snorted as he said: “Anythin' you need!” “Alright,” continued Caramel as he stood up. “What are you trying to pull saying you never loved me? That's a pretense if I've ever heard one!” Big Macintosh sighed, knowing he would have to explain why he sighed along with everything else. Again. He stood up to tower over Caramel. “Ah wuzn't in love with you from th' start, like Ah said. Ah jus' loved an idea o' you Ah had made up t'please mahself. Nothin' more, nothin'--” “Don't even try to...oh. OH. I understand now. You really don't see it, do you?” The blood below his ears began to surge with greater force. Everything he had avoided was now cruelly thrown in his face, and he had to set things straight without ruining everything. “T'ain't a lie, Mel. Ah know it's awful t'think 'bout, but we were both--” “We were both confused, yes. And you still are. You still can't come to terms with liking stallions, so you're rewriting your memories of us for convenience's sake!” “W-Whut?!”, blustered Big Macintosh. “Now that's jus' hogwash. Think 'bout this carefully, please.” “Oh, I am,” rebutted Caramel. “I've thought about this for a while, actually. Your attitude toward me when my dad came up; dating a mare after you broke up with a stallion, and way too soon for that matter; chickening out whenever I suggested we have sex – you know, that thing couples do; you just couldn't deal with it! Now, I admit some fault on that last one, too, but if you had been willing, then--” “Nnope,” interrupted Macintosh a little too forcefully. “You got th' absolute wrong idea. Ah prefer mares t'stallions on balance. Simple as that.” As soon as he made that last statement, Macintosh noticed a ray of sunlight peeking out from a stray cloud, unfairly deciding to shine on Caramel's shod hooves. They were surprisingly clean for galloping through a dirt path, but still filthy. The glare was so strong that he had to shuffle to the left slightly. Even the mysterious cutie mark seemed to be glowing slightly. “Oh yeah?”, said Caramel. “Name one other mare besides Cheerilee that you've dated. Go on.” “Caramel. You an' Ah both know Ah haven't.” “Exactly. And why not? You were daydreaming about me! Or maybe some other stud, I don't know, it...it d-doesn't matter. You were ten times more involved with me than you are with Junebug now. You can't write that off as self-delusion; it doesn't work that way.” “Now yer jus' makin' stuff up!”, retorted Macintosh. “Love messes with ponies' heads all th' time!” “Yes,” continued Caramel, seemingly undaunted. “It does. Love messes with ponies' heads. You loved me. Maybe not now...but...but you certainly did then!” “...No. Ah. Didn't. Ah had mah head up mah rear, that's whut happened.” “I'm not saying you didn't”, replied Caramel icily. “But that wasn't because you didn't have feelings for me. You were starting to see yourself for who you really are. So if anything, you were scared to admit that you loved me as much as you did! You lied to me and flirted with Junebug over the summer – while I was abroad – just because “we” didn't make sense to “you”!” Up in the sky, two pegasi raced above Macintosh, though he barely registered it. He barely registered anything but the horribly triumphant look on the strange beige pony's face. All he could do was fall to his rear with his jaw dropped in bewildered defeat. Out of nowhere, far too quickly, that stud-licker had ruined everything. Yet again. “She told me herself,” Caramel answered without prompt. “Nice conversation. She had quite a lot to say about you, actually, really good things. I like her. She doesn't deserve our mess.” ...Wrong move, boy. “Don' go talkin' 'bout whut you don' understand,” he grunted. “Our “relationship” didn't make sense t'me cuz it didn't make sense, period. We're not a fit pair, an' June's mah future. End o' story.” Caramel just laughed at him. “Sure, tell yourself that if you like. But make sure you remember what happened accurately. You cradled me. You shed tears for me. You were amazing, Mac. A heart that pure doesn't come from selfishness, and you know it. Don't be ashamed of it; be proud of it!” “Yer a little too proud, if'n you ask me!” “Hah! Whatever; it doesn't matter now. Come on, let's take the rest of these leaves down. We're late.” Big Macintosh watched furiously as Caramel cantered into a running pace. Just like that, everything was fine?! This pony had the gall to talk to him that way, after everything that happened?! After vandalizing his property?! He decided to make his position clear, raising his hooves without ceremony and pulverizing the dirt beneath them as they crashed. The thundering vibration agitated the blood rushing under his hide...and left the forest completely bare. Caramel stopped dead in his tracks and turned to face him again. “Yer not goin' anywhere, not now,” growled Big Macintosh. “Ah shoulda known you'd have th' nerve t'be this callous. Ah shoulda known this wuz a bad idea. But you know whut?!” Caramel had a fiery look to his eyes as he answered: “What, lover of mine?” “Ah...Ah feel SORRY fer you. Yer story's a sad one, yet you act like everythin' jus' peachy. You cain't STAND feelin' like a victim, so you throw yer baggage 'round fer everypony else t'bear. An' that's jus' pathetic. How could Ah love you when you won't love yerself? Answer me that!” “...Because of you. You did love me, so you helped me see I wasn't doomed to be helpless for the rest of my life! You're right; I was pathetic! You were the best thing that happened to me, and I hate how it all ended! You yell at me, yet you're the last pony I would be mad at; I see that now!” “Oh, very smooth,” hissed Macintosh. “Very pretty. That one o' yer speeches? You couldn't wait t'burst mah bubble today, could you? Jus' admit it an' do yerself a favor!” “I couldn't wait to burst that one. Look. Deep down, you know that finding out you were more selfish than you thought was devastating to you. That was what made you crazy for the last few months. But you're still what I think of when somepony mentions purity and goodness. And rightly so! You shouldn't be ashamed that you like stallions, even if it's a little weird when you think about it!” “Would you QUIT IT with this 'likin' stallions' crap?! That has nothin' t'do with this! YOU were th' one t'put me on th' roller coaster! YOU were th' one t'make mah heart hurt all that time Ah wuz helpin' you. An' all th' time Ah wuz waitin' fer you! Ah'm not confused how Ah love STALLIONS; Ah'm confused how Ah love YOU!” ...Whut? Oh, Gods fuck me. Ah did not. But Ah did. Mah heart hurts. Ah...That's... “...I knew it,” answered Caramel calmly. “And you know it now. It's okay; that makes sense! You should have just said that and spared us both--” “NNOPE. SHUT UP. AH DON' LOVE YOU, YER JUS' SO...MANIPULATIVE! YOU TRICKED ME WITH YER SILVER TONGUE, LIKE...like you threw a damn horseshoe in mah head!” “Oh yeah?! Then let me pull it out! Answer this, point blank: do you miss me? No silver there!” “DON'...Don' be an idiot, Caramel Shine. O' course Ah miss you!” ...No. No. NO. It cain't be; there's no reason fer it. You ruined me. Caramel...oh damn it all, Ah cain't keep this up with you lookin' at me like that. Lookin' at me like...like there's not th' slightest thing wrong with me. He took off his glasses and saw Caramel's face, shining with sweat and beaming with determination. Caramel was not angry. Caramel was...passionate. Dauntless. Strong. He wanted that strength; he had always admired it. But something else shone forth, something that had suckered him in every time. Yes...he saw it when the little stallion smirked, when he glanced away, when he squinted, when he cried, when he laughed, when he smiled. If it was a real smile, then he was completely enthralled to that 'something'. It was always there, even when he wanted to strangle the little pony. And it was he tried to avoid as he ran alongside him. So maybe he wasn't looking at what he wanted...but what he needed? Something he could never have on his own, something Caramel had this whole time? Desperate for certainty, he looked straight into the beige menace's eyes for answers. They shone bright and clear...as if just for him. They were shining just for him. Like before. Junebug's eyes were similar, but they didn't shine nearly as strong. He didn't know if they would ever shine that strong, enough to pierce him to the core, like a knife to an apple, and leave his weakest self exposed. He sat down on the bare dirt path and let his own eyes shine back. “...Oh Gods, Ah miss you.” Caramel faltered, shining even brighter for it as he weakly said: “I...I miss you, too. I tried to move on, even just a little, but I couldn't. I-I can't. You're it...” “Ah wuz done missin' you. Dammit, Caramel, Ah'm...Ah'm sick.” “No,” defied Caramel, walking forward unsteadily. “You're just confused. And it's okay. I don't want anything but for us to be on good terms." "G-Good," he stuttered, feeling weaker with each step his ex took toward him. "T-This hasta stop. Whutever th' hells this is, it hasta stop." There. As horribly wonderful as he felt, he had made things simple. All of this had a simple answer! Everything would be fine. Eeyup. Caramel finally sat down in front of him, now fully beyond the blur. Now Macintosh could see him clearly...he could see the helpless tears starting to pool in those baby blues. He couldn't even remember his girlfriend's name. "We may r-really be a bad match. *Sniffle* I-I can sorta see that. But that doesn't--” Macintosh pulled Caramel toward him and grabbed his head to plant an unrestrained kiss on those lips that twisted him. He massaged the sassy mouth with a tenderness he didn't know he possessed, with a ferocity that scared him to death. It was true. It was all true. Why did it have to be true? Because now...now it had to become untrue. But it couldn't be. It could never be. Macintosh pulled apart from his little stallion to let them both breathe. It was so much easier; they could both breathe so much easier. But it was only for this moment. They rested their heads together and simply drew breath, savoring each synchronized inhale and exhale. What little time they had would be theirs and only theirs, a singular memory stubbornly blazing against oblivion. It was all they had left. “Ah love you, Caramel...Ah jus' wish Ah knew why. But we'll make do." “Yeah...I love you too, Dad.”
Tell the TruthA/N: Aagh! Sorry this took so long, but I got a bad case of the Eh-I-Don't-Feel-Like-It's. Any creative type can tell you how persistent that disease is. But this chapter was also tricky for me, so that made it take longer as well. Feel free to comment on any errors, as usual. I completely froze. I had ruined everything with one word. Can you imagine? Just one word...that was all it took to invert my entire life. No word should be that powerful. I still don't really believe that I said that. Maybe I just said something that sounded like it. My lips were trembling quite a bit. But it was clear as the fact I'll die one day what he heard. All I could do was just sit there while he backed away from me. His face...I couldn't stand looking at his face after that word. But I had to. I had to see just what I had done to him. Even when he started laughing, I couldn't make myself see anything but that demented grin. Wait...whut? Demented grin? “O-O' course!”, he shrieked at me. “This makes MUCH more sense! You jus' cain't stand me gettin' on without you, so you twist mah head 'round 'till Ah give in! Hahaha! Well done, sugarcube!” That doesn't... I tried to defend myself, to tell him it was a passion-sick mistake. But my throat wouldn't move. It was like that word was still being spoken, and my voice couldn't articulate anything else while it reverberated though the two of us. Why're you sayin' it like this? Whut's th' point? Even with that part of my life behind me, Da--that pony behind the word still failed to be a positive influence. So I just sat there and let him keep talking. “Yeah, i-it's jus' fine! T-This is 'zactly why you need that head doctor! Ah mean, you heard yerself say that, right?! EEYUP, you sure did! HAHA! Ah can see it on yer face...damn, lover boy, you sure fucked yerself over!” Oh, that's jus' – you little liar! But that was when his rant twisted upon itself, and it became absolutely unbearable. “Love...love, huh?! YOU THINK AH LOVE YOU?! L-Lemme tell you whut th' deal is, boy. Ah'm a dumb farm pony who don' know no better no how! So...so...oh, Celestia, you KNEW. You came back t'town knowin' 'zactly how t'trick me into feelin' weak an' helpless. But you slipped, didn't you? You meant t'crush mah soul a little later, maybe in th' middle o' somethin' intimate?” Wouldn't've surprised me. At least not now. Ah shouldn't've let you on that path that day. Ah should've known trouble when Ah saw it. “That's why yer...” I forget the rest. I blocked it out or something. Or maybe you cain't think o' whut t'fill in? I finally managed to blurt out: “I-It doesn't have to be this way!” Yes, it was meaningless, but a stock response is better than no response. Or at least I thought so at the time. Big Macintosh became very quiet then. “...You know?”, he said with a tone that still gives me chills just thinking about it. “Yer right. It doesn't. Ah don' hafta subject some poor doctor pony with yer nonsense. In fact...Ah know jus' th' pony who could sort this mess out or burn out tryin'!” ...It wuzn't worded like that, but whatever. Liars will lie. To this hour, I can't say what force compelled me to ask: “Who?” Big Macintosh burst out laughing. Not even slightly true. “WHO ELSE?!” “...No,” I begged. This is gettin' ridiculous! “It's perfect! Ah'll jus' haul you up ta th' mines an' leave th' two o' you to it. Buck two trees with one kick! An' th' apple doesn't fall far from th' tree, so both you basketcases can rot in peace and harmony!” Ah...AH DON' BELIEVE YOU! HOW DARE YOU...wait. This jus' falls in line with everythin' else. Calm down, calm down. “You can't do that to me...!” “Or you could sort it out,” he continued, deliberately ignoring me, “but... HAHAHAHA! HAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAA! Who am Ah kiddin'?! He'd ignore you, an' you'd jus' pretend he wuz some random diamond miner! Oh pony, that cracked me up!” This is sick. Ah cain't hardly bear anymore! “S-Sure, it'd be funny,” I lied to try and calm him down. “Just think this through a little more. I'll go to that therapist you described, and we can write this day off as a...a m-mis...” I could feel my soul ripping itself apart as I hissed the beginning of the word. Yer really milkin' this now. Hissing words? Are you a snake now? “A whut now?”, he asked with an insincere frown, turning his ear to me as if I were too quiet to be heard. “...We would write it off as a mistake.” If only it were that simple, Caramel. After whut you did, that "mistake" will define you fer the rest o' yer life. “A MISTAKE, you say?”, continued Macintosh. “Too late fer that, hon. This is more than a mistake! It's an abomination before all o' ponydom, an' it's now mah duty t'make sure it doesn't happen 'gain! Yer comin' with me, Caramel.” WHUT?! THAT'S TH' MOST BLATANT--INEXCUSABLE-- “NO! DON'T YOU DARE, DON'T TOUCH ME!”, I cried out, trying to back away but still rooted to the ground. Macintosh knew he could only take me with him one way...by swinging his-- "THAT'S ENOUGH!" “...Huh?”, Caramel blustered at me. “Ah'm astounded, Caramel. It's only been a couple o' days, an' half o' whut you said wuz made up t'trick me. Even as far as you've sunk, Ah thought you'd still have th' decency t'tell me th' truth.” “AJ, for Celestia's sake!”, he stubbornly continued. “I'm telling you the truth! I have no reason to lie at this point; I have nothing to gain. NOTHING. You made sure of that.” I looked past him, toward the back of the train car. He was only taking a silver horseshoe and a vase of morning glories with him. I didn't persuade him in his choices in the slightest...though perhaps I should have. I needed some grasp of what was happening; even the smallest lasso-full of control would've soothed my nerves. “Well, you must've somethin' to hold on ta,” I insisted. “Big Macintosh told me th' real version, an' that should've been enough. He certainly had no reason to lie. But Ah thought before Ah do this...that you MIGHT have somethin' t'say. Ah've heard that somethin', an' Ah'm more sure than ever this is whut needs t'be done.” He had no response, for once. But I was sure if he did, then it would be a meaningless gurgle about how it was "just a mistake." “It's only that you were good t'us in th' past that Ah didn't turn you in. Jus'...go somewhere quiet, an' Ah'm sure everypony will find somethin' amicable instead o' all this. Ah'll find you if'n we change our minds. So...this is goodbye.” I honestly had nothing else to say. All I wanted to do was go back to see my big brother and my friends, maybe try one of Pinkie's stress-relieving cupcakes. But nothing would make that pony look like he used to, not now. I used to always see a charming, determined little colt when he was on the farm, even when things were at their most confusing. Still, this whole ordeal made it clear as day who he really was. It was...it was almost a relief to not have to justify his behavior. I didn't have to justify anything of his anymore. I could just focus on my family. Yes. My family. I finally turned around and started to run for the hospital. “Y-You're sure he's alright?”, I heard him call behind me. Of course he found one last crutch to stand on...I stopped one last time. “As far as we know,” I answered without turning my head. “But it changes nothing, you know that.” “...Yeah. I panicked. Nothing will change that...” “...Think of it this way,” I spat at him. “You don' hafta worry 'bout him anymore. You can start fresh. Now git started.” I didn't stick around to see if he obeyed me or not. The guilt of staying away from the bedside became too much to bear, fogging my head from pointless distractions. That's all that horse was now. A pointless distraction. Maybe that's all he ever was. All that mess with craters and shoeing and Paradise-knows-what-else wasn't and would never be our area. Any Apple would have helped him out in that sad state...and then set him off on his own. That's all this was, wasn't it? I supposed it was! N-Not that it mattered either way. As pointless distractions go, it faded from my mind as the bright white hospital building came into view. I actually found myself hoping Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash were still telling the story of how they found both of them; I just didn't have the energy to entertain visitors anymore. I had never had my head separated from my body. But that's the only way I could think to describe how I felt for the last week. Only my head felt like good old flesh and bones; the rest felt like an oversoaked sponge with unnecessary limbs. I had requested they leave my noggin alone myself...but the more I floated above the tether of my useless body, the more I almost regretted that prerogative. They might as well have knocked me out cold until my blood flow had gone back to normal. Due to recent events, it wasn't like I couldn't afford the expense. That self-pitying stream ran through my head every time I woke up to hear Rainbow telling the story, each time altered to appeal to the new audience of that morning. That is, when I did wake up in the morning. When I woke up today, I heard a snippit of an “anti-drag cloud” or something weird like that. More than a little curious about this addition to my story, I perked my ears up to listen more closely. As soon as I did that, I suddenly heard Junebug's soft breathing as she still slept on the chair beside me. “O-Oh Rainbow, you don't have to tell them that,” I heard Fluttershy say from outside the door. She said that at some point whenever Rainbow re-invented the story, and she was always right. “Why the hay not?!”, defied Rainbow as usual. “It's a great story! Those butterflies trained like crazy to do that for you. They helped you win the race! Now don't tell me that's not worthwhile!” Butterflies...race...Fluttershy...I figured they meant the bizarre cloud that flew over the seed shed in the spring and nearly bowled me into the wall. Having only learned of it weeks after the fact, I wasn't overly concerned with it. Except one facet of it disturbed me to no end: Fluttershy, when asked, would only mention a few strange butterflies she hadn't seen before breaking away from the group. As a matter of fact, she mentioned three butterflies often straying from her shelter during the spring...that always made me think of little Clementine for some reason. It was stupid; what did pretty little butterflies have to do with that power-hungry filly? But I associated the two each time I heard it, without fail. Maybe it was the times after all; something in the air was just...different. I didn't want to think the news, the social climate, or even the atmosphere itself was making ponies slowly corrupt and sever from each other. But certain ponies made the idea hard to ignore. Either way, something had to be done. That's cruel, coming from you. “It was absolutely dazzing to behold as well; an electric pink cloud tearing across the sky!”, said Miss Rarity. At least I think it was her. Ponyville had gotten more fancy ponies over the year, and those voices tended to sound alike. Either that, or some of the anesthetic really did get to my head. “Anyway, I convinced her to start training again so she could use that technique again, so she could go from place to place faster, so she could take care of her critters all over the place more efficiently, right? Makes sense and all, you know.” I could almost hear Twilight rolling her eyes. Even I knew that was a run-on sentence. That last bit was probably a sentence fragment, too. The former right next to the latter? I would have giggled if it didn't make the sponge tingle. “So we were racing over the forest path, to kinda check on things with the Running of the Leaves, too. Everything was going fine, until...until...come on, Fluttershy.” “...Do I have to?”, complained Fluttershy. “We have an audience here, and they're hanging on every word! Just do it and get it over with.” I heard her sigh. It wasn't a timid sigh like the first few times. It was a sigh of defeat, and a well-earned one. I joined her as gently as I could. “...Until I swooped down 'like a raven' and spotted t-the scene of the crime right as it 'went down'.” The other ponies outside the door gasped at the same time. This gasp was a little shallower than the others. But maybe that wasn't accidental: Fluttershy forgot to mention that she flew down when she saw those same three butterflies down there. It certainly would have explained it for the crowd, so they would have believed it more easily, maybe? How much of a difference did that sort of thing make, anyway? ...When did you start caring about stuff like that? ...When did I start caring about stuff like that? This hospital was driving me out of my mind. Heh. “She was right there, you guys!”, Rainbow said with too much eagerness. “She saw the moment Caramel bucked Big Macintosh square in the chest! She saw the horseshoes crush the flesh and bone, just missing his heart.” “Ah think that's enough fer today, Rainbow,” I heard my sister scold. Every time she said that, I could breathe a little easier. Granted, that wasn't saying much. The raw force of the blow turned my ribs into half-eaten apple pie crust, or so my sister told me for fear of describing it properly. The crowd noisily dispersed, more than a few of them dropping words like “Scoundrel” and “Unbalanced” and even “Monster” and other words that nopony in our family would touch. Normally. I had already vowed to put a stop to my foul language from this point onward. It was weird hearing it all because...it bothered me, and yet it didn't. It didn't bother me because ponies will think what they think; nothing will ever change that. It did bother me because they said it without understanding the real story. Too true to be funny. Every time I heard the story, only one inaccuracy was consistently retold. It was a small one for the gossiping listeners, being highly informed and all, but it changed everything when actually told. I managed to convince myself there was only one reason why it was hard to breathe...But he hit it. He hit it hard. But how could he twist my heart so thoroughly?! Was I really that incapable of keeping dreams and reality apart? Why did he even matter to me? It was...so unfocused and muddled that it got mixed up in everything else and just made me tired. When it happened before, I decided I was confusing love with my own fixation on obligation. Having ruled that out...eugh! It was the last thing I needed to think about while still bed-ridden. If you ask me, there's no better time... Although it would be the one productive thing to do. No, it made no difference. Not anymore. All I ever really wanted was a family to call my own; and now I was closer than ever at getting one! I just had to keep dreams in my head and reality by my side. And look at the flowers: freshly picked daisies and morning glories. June always got up too early to surprise me with them, poor thing. Sometimes I stayed up too late just so she could relax and rest herself, ready to be a doll at a more reasonable hour. It was so sweet...it was almost cruel, smelling the weak aroma but still too weak to eat them. Caramel...what in every hell did you do to me? Just how long is this whole deal going to take? And it just occurred to me: how did you find me, anyway? I'm under so many wraps I can't breathe! “You holdin' up fine in here, big brother?”, I heard as the door closed behind my little sister. Of course you were. You pretty much proved you're immortal; a couple weeks' rest really is all you would need! I licked my dry lips and inhaled gingerly to reply: “Eeyup.” “That's good,” she said with that adorable little smile. “AJ should be comin' by later; she really didn't like Rainbow's storytellin' th' day before. An' today sounded even worse, so Ah don' even wanna think 'bout how mad she'd get!” “...Nnope.” I nudged my head toward June so Bloom wouldn't get too loud. “Oh. Anyway, Ah still think she's getting' better. It took both of us t'git her t'listen ta...you know...B-But she's eatin' 'gain an' doin' chores with me, so it'll all be good!” Little Bloom...if only her sister and I were as simple as she was, thing would've been much easier. Life was better managed with simple methods. I needed to learn that way of being again, and I had all the time in the world now. How rosy. Wait...oh, you sneaky devil. But it's not like it even matters now. I said, “Eeyup,” to her, trying to see if I could claim my vanity as real. But it was going to take a lot of 'Eeyup's. She beamed at me nonetheless, and thank Celestia she always did. You weren't dying by this point. What's with the melodrama? “...They still haven't taken that contraption off you?” “Nnope,” I confirmed, looking to the...I-V, I think they called it?...hooked to my flesh. I had seen something like it when I visited Rainbow in the same hospital, but this one seemed much more complicated. I reckoned it had to do with helping my blood flow and muscles restore themselves. I felt like a submarine sandwich stabbed by several toothpicks, except these toothpicks were keeping me alive. Coincidentally, I decided that acupuncture didn't interest me too much sometime during my hospital stay. Was that supposed to be funny? I mean, yes, it's heartbreaking...but why try to make light of it? It's not like you to-- Oh, it's because it is you. Dressing it up so I wouldn't worry...figures. It was around this time that Junebug started to rouse out of the one chair next to the bed. “Mornin', Miss Junebug!”, said Applebloom. “Didja sleep alright?” “Mnngh...It was as good as I could have hoped for,” said June sweetly. “At least the sun wasn't streaming in my eyes.” “Eeyup, that woulda been a mite irritatin',” agreed Bloom. This is really detailed. If you're trying to make me feel guilty with every aspect of your life, then you're still full of drugs. I made myself clear my throat, as much as I instantly regretted it. They both turned to look at me and stopped that inane time-wasting. Both of us were going to try to convince June again, and I wasn't in the mood for any preambles or niceties. They had hardly done any good so far – hells, they weren't any good all year – so I decided for us that a good old Apple-style method was in order. “Where is he, June?”, I said with as much authority as my busted ribs would allow. “Ah know both you an' AJ know, an' yer both keepin' it from me fer some cockamamie reason. Jus' spare us all th' tension. Please.” As soon as I pleaded, she turned her head from deliberately avoiding me back to facing me. Eye contact was going to be critical, so this was a good sign. “Before...Before I tell you, I want to ask you this,” started June. “Why do you want to know, anyway? Lots of ponies have lots of different reasons, but...you're not 'lots of different ponies'.” “June, t'ain't a matter o'--” “I just want to know,” she insisted, keeping her eyes on me. “Honest.” I groaned outwardly and emphatically. “Why wouldn't Ah want t'know? Ah have more reason than anypony else! An' if'n yer feelin' sorry fer him, keep in mind Ah cain't 'zactly wreak vengeance or something stupid like that in this state. There ain't no reason not t'tell me, sugar...”, I finished with a gentler tone. Shoot, she didn't need my mess this early. She was nothing but wonderful to me this whole stay! I supposed...I supposed it was the severity of the mess that made me want to hack a pony down to size. At least you're not claiming it was the air quality again. That's just dumb; do you really think like that? But to be fair, the situation deserved to be treated honestly and without a thousand little peacekeeping measures. Even if the Hell of Peace were a hoax, the moral rang true. ... She frowned deeper as she continued: “I'd just...rather wait until the whole deal blows over. I don't want anypony--” “Gettin' hurt? What did Ah jus' say, June?” “Anypony else,” she continued, clearly irritated. Crud. “It was an accident, after all. And if other ponies find out from me telling you,” she said with a hoof clearly pointing to the tabloid researchers hiding outside, “and they find him...who's to say an accident can't happen twice?” That...was actually a good point. I couldn't even count the number of times AJ bucked the air out of mere frustration. It took a great deal of restraint not to do it myself when I was angry. But I did learn it; by every cloud in the sky, did I learn it. Caramel, on the other hoof...it was hard to say now. He knew what he did, and it probably deeply unnerved him. Hmph. So that's your verdict on me. At least it explains AJ's reaction toward me. “Well...”, I stalled, searching for options, “Ah'll tell you whut. You can jus' tell me in a way only Ah would understand.” “Big brother!” “...An' Bloom, Ah suppose.” “Thank you.” June stopped and stared into the middle distance. Oh, like she was going to slip out of this one! “Look at me an' jus'...imply it. S'okay. Look me in th' eyes an' tell me, babe.” With no escape, she ended up locking eyes with me. Such sweet eyes...the brightest emerald green outside of a jeweler's shop. Even when they were heavy-lidded or bloodshot, they still gave a clear picture of who she was without even trying. I never had to guess with her, never doubted her honesty: I just looked at her eyes. Who wouldn't get pulled into that effortless gaze? Who wouldn't have even a little bit more energy to get out of bed, just to see the mare with the forest glimmer? As I returned her stare and let myself melt into that glimmer...I couldn't think of a single soul that wouldn't do the same. ...Good. Sounds like things are going well. I also couldn't think of an easier way to make her cave. And sure enough, she eventually shifted her gaze to the right. “Dammit!”, said Junebug. “Language!”, objected Bloom. “Never mind that, sugarcube,” I said, silently feeling a little smug. “Now, I believe you were going to tell me, June?” June sighed a similarly weary sigh as Fluttershy's. I had trouble sympathizing with this one, though. It had taken long enough to get this simple information, goodness me! “Well...I brought up the idea with Applejack a few days ago, and she didn't deny it. But she didn't confirm it, either. It's just...given what's happened and who Caramel is, there's really only one place he has left. I-I don't know if that was what--” “You did jus' fine, babe,” I soothed. “It's...it's a weight off my mind, that's all.” At least it would be for a short while. Thank Celestia that's over. The rest is just a request for me to respond... “Well,” I said to the one pony in earshot, “that was a very entertaining forgery. I didn't know you dabbled in fiction writing, Braeburn.” “WHUT?!”, cried my funny author. “Don' be makin' fibs like that, pardner. Shame on you fer even thinkin' Ah would make up a letter from mah own cousin! An' would you buck that darn tree already, if'n yer gonna pose like that?!” I set the far-too-long letter down on the ground as carefully as I could. The pages stayed firmly against my shoe as it inched down, not fluttering in the wind or threatening to tilt too far in one direction. Once it was free to be swept away, I let the energy coiled in my legs tighten and vibrate...to a point. "You've been doin' that all week, an' Ah'm gettin' annoyed jus' seein' it! Whut's so rewardin' 'bout holdin' yer legs against an apple tree like that, anyway? Ah jus' don' git that." I bucked the tree I was threatening to buck for fifteen minutes, each Yellow Delicious tumbling down in as orderly a fashion as could be made. Then I relaxed my muscles calmly and stepped down, without scratching the bark. Everything went perfectly. It wasn't the performance that was the problem, no. It was the reception. “...Now!”, continued my employer. “Ah'm sure Ah don' know whut you mean 'bout forgin' anythin', Caramel. Not a clue.” I looked at the one pony who willingly greeted me when I was here: the greatest success of my life. The town was beautiful again, completely restored. Nopony needed me anymore, and yet here I was. It wasn't that the rest of them weren't warm toward me. I couldn't say exactly what emotion greeted me throughout the town, sadly for me. All I could concretely say about the town occurred to me when this pony decided he could use my help. With the money I needed and the friends I needed even more...Braeburn's actions did show me that he wasn't my enemy. Although the money turned out to be a non-issue. “...Maybe not,” I conceded. “I'm sorry for that, buddy, it's just...this letter was definitely made up by somepony. It's way too detailed and meandering; Big Mac would never have written this. Or the forger could have altered it. Yeah, they probably altered it to put in their own details...but why in any hell would they do that?” “You gonna stop talkin' nonsense now?” I came out of my reverie at the quip and looked to the sky. It was almost sundown. “You watched me git th' letter from th' post, anyway. Albeit from back here. You sayin' somepony 'altered' it while it was in mah own hooves?” The wind stopped. The letter hadn't done anything but flap in the crosswind, and now it just sat in front of me. It didn't do anything, nothing at all. “...Braeburn?” “...Yes, pardner?” “Do you...do you like having me here?” Braeburn frowned. But then he turned away and looked to the town as he answered me. I understood completely. “It's hard t'say, really. You've got a heck of a mouth on ya, an' it's clear yer hurtin', but...even with everythin' you got goin' on, yer helpful an' you stay out o' trouble. Ah'm not worried 'bout you, t'be perfectly honest.” “...But do you like having me here?”, I persisted for some reason. Braeburn still looked at the town, and I still understood. “Yer not mah kind o' pony. But Ah cain't blame you fer that. Jus' do yer job an' we'll be fine.” “...Fair enough.” “Oh, speakin' o' that...”, Braeburn continued, “erm...” “You going to let me take care of the whole orchard, now?”, I teased. “I told you, you wouldn't regret it.” “W-Well, that's 'zactly th' thing, really. But it's actually out o' mah hooves.” What? “Why would it be--” “They...”, stammered Braeburn, “they've been talkin' 'bout th' fact we're hidin' you, an'...they don' jus' want free labor anymore. They want you t'work th' entire orchard in exchange fer keepin' this all under wraps.” "..." So there it was. I stood next to him as we both looked to the Sheriff's Office. The other townsponies must have gotten him on their side, and now they were showing their real colors. I supposed it shouldn't have surprised me, and quite frankly it didn't. Ponies and opportunity mixed extremely well this year; the letter got that part right, at least. From a summer hero to an autumn slave...I supposed I had it coming. “Well...I'm not really in a position to say no. I'll still have room and board, right?” Braeburn said nothing until the sun finally set. Each and every star seemed to flicker inconsistently; some were brighter than others in strange places. I couldn't find any constellations with the confusing changes, so I just twirled Cheerilee for some time. “Ah hate this,” I finally heard over the whistling metal. “Ah don' like usin' that word, but Ah hate this arrangement.” “...I can stay with somepony else, if it's a bother,” I offered. “S'not that. They jus' want a bite o' the rich life, an' they're gonna exploit ya fer it. It's DISGUSTING. Harbor a criminal, an' make him build you a palace? T'ain't th' Appleloosa Ah know an' love! Ah cain't even fathom it: before we even rebuilt everythin' from th' ground up, somethin' jus'...died in this town. That world-shaker knocked somethin' loose, an' Ah'm gonna see it git put back. Wuz it really an accident?” “It's a downright shame,” I answered, “but I bet you have what it takes to...wait, WHAT?” “Y-You heard me.” The wind picked back up. The desert had already cooled to that horrible extreme again, piercing my insides with its cold barbs. Ponyville's winters never had winds so sharp; only three weeks and I was already losing morale. But that wouldn't affect me here: the answer was obvious. It was obvious! Why did everypony keep asking it when it was so damn obvious?! “Yes, of course it was.” “...Alright.” “I was scared; I just...something took over.” “Ah gotcha. Ah just wanted t'hear it from you.” “Fine, but...why wouldn't it be an accident? Really. I'd love to know. Most of the gossip I hear when I'm close to town is what everypony's 'theory' is. What's so ambiguous about it?” Braeburn stalled. If anything, he seemed a little peeved? “Lemme ask you this, then,” said Braeburn. “You an' him...'zit gonna be like this for th' rest o'--” “He has his life, and I have mine.” “...” “I-I mean, he wants to start a new life with his somepony. I feel I should just let him, and I'll...I'll clean up my mess and just start over.” “Jus' start over?” It was so fucking cold. “Yeah. I'll figure something out. I've lived for long enough on my own. It'll...you know, I just remembered something.” “Yes?” “Could you deliver a letter for me tomorrow? It's about time I kept my promise.” They forgot about me. I blew into the desert wind alone. I flapped above the lucky trees alone. I flew over the barren wastes alone. And I was stuck against a mighty cliff face alone, with writing on my own face. They never read what my face had to say. And I became stuck on the face of a cliff. I never saw what was written on it; I was facing the wrong way. ...write back to me, then it would get rid of the needless tension between us. I see what happened for what it is, and with time, you and everypony else will, too. This brings me to what I need to say to you. I talked to Braeburn (in a private letter, in case you're worried), and he told me your sticky situation. And so I've decided...even though I appreciate the support and sentiment of it, I'm using the rest of the money to call off your case. From what he told me, you seem to be struggling to start a new life. I don't want you to be haunted by what happened more than you have to be, and I know you're scared to death of something. So consider this my goodwill parting gift. I'll persuade them to drop the charges and to forgo investigating any accomplices. With this much, it'll be easy as pie. With that, Appleloosa can't blackmail you worth two bits...dear Celestia, I just wrote that sentence. I live in a world where that sentence exists. They're still looking for your daddy; I doubt my 'persuasion' would end that search. Anyway, if you don't want to come back to Ponyville, that's fine. It really is up to you. But if you change your mind, just know it doesn't have to end this way with us. Keep your promise and get help. It'll be fine. If you admit that you did it on purpose after the treatment, they should have pity on you; I know we do. I still care about you, even with June in my heart. Stay safe, “Big” Macintosh P.S. I am deeply sorry about that mess I threatened; I'm really going to put that attitude behind me. But please don't make my efforts worthless by looking for him. You have your own problems.
TraitorsCelestia's sun was almost at its noon perch, shedding the last of summer's heat like a nuisance. The plants were slowly but surely straightening back from the months of oppression, their animal neighbors adjusting to the changing food sources. The wind was still blowing mildly, tossing the manes of the gathered ponies as if still deciding which way they were to be ruined. Such a relaxed and measured part of the day would only mean one thing: Truth. Neither of the competitors swayed with the breeze. Caramel's hair was long since flattened into strands and slick with sweat. Big Macintosh's hair was even more haggered than Caramel's, hanging in front of his glasses and obscuring his vision. The irony wasn't lost on either of them...but they truly didn't care. They couldn't even understand the crowd anymore. All they understood was the cloud of dread fogging both their minds. The pain, the rage, and the fear born in the pair wavered and persisted with the straining hooves. Either one of them might have said that time stood still...but what truly held their thoughts was the mirrored anguish in the eyes of the other. No matter how much it flew in the face of reason...it hurt like all six hells to see the pony so miserable. So much had changed, yet so much had stayed the same; it was clear now. How could any of it be real? How could the horrible mess they were in have come to be in less than a week? ...And did the other even understand just what he had done? “How in Equestria did you manage to get that letter? That was a--” “Doesn't matter,” snapped Big Macintosh. “Ah got it, an' Ah saw whut you hid from me. Why'd you do it?” “First of all,” started Caramel, “Lemme make it clear I didn't ask my dad to shoe me. I...nnngh!...asked a professional blacksmith to do it because he's the--” “Stop right there,” Mac interrupted again. “Ah don' even wanna know. Tell me why you lied t'me about yer daddy shoein' you.” Mel used his free hoof to try (and fail) to wipe the hair from his eyes. “...I'll tell you why I lied to you when you tell me where you got that letter.” Mac chuckled through gnashing teeth. “Yer a real piece o' work, you know that? Ah see it now. Jus' manipulate yer target 'till he caves, don' bother t'be responsible or nothin'.” Mel visibly sagged behind the stump, but kept his hoof strong against his opponent's. “I-I guess there's...,” mumbled Caramel before pulling himself up, “no point in being nice, then. Tell me where you got that letter.” “Look at yerself, hon. Yer in no position t'make demands,” Gnashing Macintosh insisted. “Well, neither are you,” countered Caramel with a glare to Junebug. She seemed at a loss for words, or really anything. Big Macintosh deliberately maintained his own glare on him, not saying a thing. The eyes of the crowd couldn't prick them if they tried. “It was Twilight, wasn't it?” That made him stop. The treacherous pony actually faltered, just a little. “Ah said it doesn't matter.” “Like hells it doesn't matter!”, yelled Caramel for anypony to hear. “That was private mail! Nopony should have had access to it but my doctor. But that nosy egghead was sneaking around us for weeks doing her 'research'! She would manage to get it, wouldn't she?!” The crowd looked around them to find Twilight, but she was nowhere to be seen. Eventually, Caramel took a deep breath and conceded. “It doesn't matter that I didn't tell you. That pony's just a blacksmith to me.” “Oh, don' you even dare pull that with me,” retorted Macintosh. “He's yer daddy...bless yer heart. He's th' one who shoved nails in yer...gah!...jus' thinkin' 'bout it makes me ill.” Mel gained ground on Mac. “It's the truth, babe. I just...didn't trust anypony else to do it, and why would I? I mean, think about it!” Mac stopped the advance at one hundred and thirty degrees above the stump. “Ah cain't. Ah cain't even imagine...whut made you put yer trust in him. Ah don' git that at all.” “Hmph,” grunted Caramel. “I guess you'll believe what you want anyway. You're good at that.” “T'ain't an explanation,” grunted Macintosh, “fer why you went Behind! Mah! Back! and snuck him in t'shoe you without even tellin' me after. Jus'...why, babe?! Didja think Ah wuz gonna—” “Yes.” The hooves returned to equilibrium. The breeze blew stronger than before, and the crowd was muted to the barest sound above silence. “...Like Ah said. Unbelievable. You really thought Ah woulda killed somepony?” “...You're scary when you're mad. Really scary. Or at least to somepony who's actually scared of you,” Caramel added sourly. “Th-That wuz all jus' big talk, you silly pony!” “Hah!”, spat Caramel. “If you were a normal pony, then it would have just been big talk. YOU, on the other hoof, aren't so typical. You're all eeyups and nnopes one second and threatening my kin the next!” Macintosh lost ground to Caramel. He was surprisingly able to ignore the bruises Caramel had given him. “Yer kin?!,” blustered Macintosh. “You still see him as yer KIN?! He doesn't deserve th' dirt he walks on! Do Ah hafta even MENTION how ruined yer life? Do Ah? “An' look at you, defendin' him AGAIN. Sweet Celestia, he's got you under his hoof. Ah don' need t'be a clever pony t'know you jus' REVERSED whut you said before--an' Ah cain't even THINK about whut that says 'bout him or you, not now.” The wind grew stronger, managing to ruffle a few sweaty strands of their manes. It was uncomfortably hot. “...Then don't,” countered Caramel. “Instead, maybe you should think about what that speech you just gave says about YOU.” Spike coughed into the microphone. The entire crowd was peering at Big Macintosh; Caramel didn't even have to see them to know that. “Fine! Ah admit Ah had some evil thoughts...everypony does it! But it wuz mostly jus' wantin' t'protect you, an' you KNEW that. You had no good reason not t'tell me.” As the wind blustered and battered them both, the heartbroken lovers re-ignited their fury and wrestled each other with even more ferocity. “N-Now it seems t-the contestants are going all out!”, said Spike. “This has to be the longest hoof wrestling on record...good grief..." “Well, would you have let...aagh!...let me do it if I told you? And don't bother lying.” Caramel lost ground to Macintosh. He couldn't help but wince once he saw the bruises on his opponent's leg. “Ah don' rightly know. Ah do know Ah wouldn't wanta do this if'n you did! Look at me...you-nngh!...you did this to me!” Mel stopped the advance at sixty degrees above the stump. He said nothing. "I-I would ask the contestants to keep their qualms to themselves, though...it's offputting, t-to say the least.” They stopped and glared at the judge through sweat-drenched hair. “Pleasedon'thurtme!” Some of the crowd began to nervously leave the arena, the others too scared to move. “An' Ah don' buy that hooey 'bout you...gah!...thinkin' yer daddy's not yer daddy or whutever. Ah don' believe yer that sick. Don' ask me why, Ah jus' don'.” “I said what I meant and meant what I said, dahling. Just like you always do.” “AH NEVER ACTUALLY MEANT TA...you know whut? It don' matter none. Ah trusted you, an' then you pulled this.” Equilibrium. “So you don't trust me?”, scoffed Caramel. “I suppose we're in the same boat, then. I trusted you, and then you ran off with some mare who might not even like you back! So...tell me. Does she?” They both looked to the crowd: Junebug was gone, and so were her flowers. “That's th' stupidest...look, nothin' happened, alright?”, admitted Macintosh, his fury weakening slightly. “Ah jus'...needed a break.” The midday sun stopped directly above them, banishing the barest trace of a shadow to the Hell of Apathy. “...Just what?”, said Caramel. “Just what?!” “You heard me, traitor.” He felt his bile rise again. “You heard me loud an' clear!” “I don't think – no, I don't think I did! Speak clearly now!” The unsteady stalemate broke, wavering unpredictably between right and left. Their hooves scraped and tore into each other without rhyme or reason, getting closer and closer to what could only be an all-out brawl until-- “I'd like to point out,” shouted a reporter pony from the bleachers, “that everything being said here is going to be on record. I normally wouldn't say this, but if you two don't want any undue attention...” The two slowed down dramatically, breaking their stare to pay attention to the straw-colored mare. She didn't seem deterred in the slightest. “...then you two should watch what you say from here on out.” Their lips wisely clamped shut; but it made no difference. Their wordless faces illustrated the story their minds were narrating scornfully. They were done talking, and so was the crowd as the visibly exhausted hooves restarted the mission to break each other. The wind stopped. Ah...Ah jus' needed a break. It's not easy bein' with you sometimes. That's all. What the hells kind of response is that? You didn't answer my question at all. Ah did answer yer question. Nothin' happened, period. Why should I believe nothing happened? I have no reason to; you didn't even read my letter! What else am I supposed to think, that your tastes suddenly flipped?! Ah done told you everythin' you need t'know. Ah told you th' truth. If you told me the truth, prove it. Tell me what you did do with her. Big Macintosh softened his lips from the grimace, but said nothing. I knew it. I knew it since the cult came to town! You dirty cheater; who's the traitor now?! Yer thinkin' Ah'm th' traitor now, aren't you? T'ain't th' same thing, an' you know it! I can not believe you did that. And to think you were too scared to go all the way when we-- DON' LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT, AH...Ah dunno! Maybe somethin' happened, maybe it didn't; Ah dunno anymore! Now jus' give up, lemme win, an' Ah'll drop mah whole vendetta here. Big Macintosh doesn't make vendettas like this. He's better than that. Well, it seems Caramel ain't above betrayal. So why should Ah be above revenge in this competition? I bet you think it's my fault you wanted revenge. ...You changed me. Ah wuz good before Ah met you. Ah held back, Ah waited mah turn, Ah never swore, Ah never lost mah temper, an' Ah didn't doubt who Ah wuz. You ruined me, Shine. ...That's rich. I ruined you? Like you didn't destroy me at that damn stadium?! Oh, fer t'love of—yer still on that? That wuz MONTHS ago. It might as well have been yesterday! Big Macintosh looked toward Applebloom, who had her head buried in Applejack's shoulder. Look, you brat. Yer not th' only one t'ever be embarrassed. That damn paper Bloom an' 'em did put th' whole town-- The Foalfree Express Debacle? How would that match up to... Caramel looked toward the barn. ...oh. OH! So THAT'S where I saw it before! Both of them grimaced. Huh? That ugly doll! I saw your picture in the paper with that doll! I thought I was delirious from rainwater or something. ...You, you didn't...stop that! Y-You cain't think that 'bout Patches! You never gave her a chance! She ain't done nothin' wrong, an' she ain't ugly! ...Mac. Hon. It's hideous. It needs to be replaced. You are NEVER gonna replace Patches. Nopony could ever replace her; don' even think 'bout it, traitor. Well...then let's 'repair' it. That doll could really sure some 'repair'. It's too late t'repair her now, not that Ah wanted ta! She got torn up by some monster an' laid in front o' mah... Caramel looked directly to Big Macintosh's bedroom and grinned. Big Macintosh gaped. ...Ah knew it. Caramel waggled his eyebrows as he beamed. AH KNEW IT WUZ YOU. SHE HAD SCUFF MARKS FROM YER FUCKIN' SHOES. THAT...that does it. Ah'm done with you. ...What? Macintosh's glare broke, falling into a deep, exhausted frown. Ah cain't do this, Ah jus' cain't. Yer not th' pony Ah fell in love with anymore. Maybe you never were. W-what?! No! I'm the one who gets to break it off, not you! Takes two t'tango, babe. An' mah legs are bone tired. That's not how...w-we're really...finished, then? We're really finished. I...good! Good riddance! I can't deal with this either! Yer not welcome in mah house, or near mah family fer that matter. Nor you mine! They both laid their hooves down on the long since broken wood and sluggishly rubbed their front legs with the opposite. After a while, they both walked up to Spike with stomachs caked in mud, molded fresh from old earth and new sweat. Caramel Shine thought of Paradise. Big Macintosh thought of caramel-covered daisies and how he could never eat them again for as long as he lived. Their faces could only have been blank. “It...”, said Spike shakily, “it seems the hoof wrestling is a mutual forfeit. With the scores as they are, this Iron Pony Competition has no winner.” The crowd was breathless. Spike soundlessly checked his watch. Tick. Tock. “Ah-Ah did read yer letter, by th' way,” Mac offered as an afterthought, keeping his face forward. “But it's clear t'ain't important now.” Tick. Tock. “...I suppose not.” Ba-dum. Ba-dum. “So...?”, said Caramel. “Eeyup,” said Big Macintosh. Tick. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Tock. “...I'll just go then,” announced Caramel. His spent legs used their last ounce of strength to carry him toward home. “Bye...”, said Spike. The silver medals laid half-buried in the upturned soil. They were dull. Tick. Tock. Ba-dum. The gold trophy sitting next to Spike glared sunlight in Big Macintosh's eyes. He half-wished it had blinded him.
ImpossibleHorseshoes By Peter Yellowhammer Celestia's sun had climbed to the center of the sky, making all shadows underneath retreat into their hosts. Their sleepy haze completely dispelled, all the creatures big and small eagerly hunted their food, be it nectar or grasses or insects or/and each other. The trees still had to shed their final blossomed petals as a gentle, humid breeze rocked them. A moment in the day so relaxed and measured could only mean one thing: Game time. With the Stallions' Field Cup just minutes away from its inception, the ticket holders were swamped with droves of late arrivals. They decided to just sell the tickets as quickly as they could and levitate the requisite bits for entry, especially since the lines were stretched all the way toward the entrance of Ponyville. But they weren't actually worried; enough seating was left for three more lines of the same length. The stadium commissioners made sure to accommodate for anything and everything, despite the project's uncertain future. Pamphlets of the track-and-field/miscellany for that day were handed out sporadically, not that the spectators would have noticed or cared for more than three seconds before finally looking inside the new attraction for the first time. They cantered up the stairs into the new, swanky stadium in a steady stream now, most of them discussing the probable champions from each participating region. Some of them marveled at the almost completely Unicorn-made field, manipulable for seemingly any event except for the central platform; as a declaration of control, the local Earth Ponies insisted on constructing it in addition to the rest of the stadium. Some of them quieted their outrage at the new, Canterlot-et-al types in Ponyville flaunting their excess, to appreciate just how small and unnoticeable the several-stories height made them feel. And some of them (most of them) silently took in the minimalist style in which the inner stadium was crafted, creating a facsimile to the ancient training grounds of pony warriors that were long since destroyed. A few of them even carelessly shared jokes about how awkward it would be if some doofus managed to enter the competition. Caramel stopped his push-ups to take in the sight of ponies from all corners of Equestria (and some from even further away) quickly filling up the rest of the red plush seats all around the turf where he stood. An almost overbearing coalition of colors were audibly gossiping, cheering, placing bets, and even performing gymnastics as much as the close-proximity seating and the private security guards would permit. Scouting out the mares made him realize just how massive the stadium was, holding thousands of ponies barely containing themselves. It was a sea of animation towering above him. “Whoa...” He examined the lowest level of seating, long since filled with the aristocrats who funded the stadium from top to bottom. They seemed content to watch the lower classes file in and make ruckus, with only a few discussing the competitors...? Or maybe they were talking about rich pony stuff? If only they were shouting about it like the others, then he could tell. Oh well, who actually cared? “You just gonna stand there 'n stare all day?” “W-What? OH!”, Caramel blustered, hastily returning to his push-ups with a deep blush he was intent to ignore. Rick Shaw cleared his throat before asking: “I don't mean ta be rude, kiddo...but why 'zactly 're ya competing in this? You're not really the athletic type...more a klutz.” The blushing pony had already overdone the push-ups, forcing him to rest on the astroturf platform right in the middle of the action. He took some time to catch his breath. “It's...*pant*...not about athleticism--” “That's EXACTLY what it's—” “Let me finish,” Caramel grunted. “It's not about athleticism for me. I'm just here to have a good time until it's time to throw shoes.” The large taxi pony switched from core stretches to lower body stretches as his...warm-up partner, maybe?...cautiously mimicked him. “Why wouldja enter a track-and-field just ta throw some shoes? What, 're ya looking ta show off yer talent ta the mares?” Rick laughed and waved when one of said mares shouted to him. “Something like that,” Caramel admitted. “I figured a little...showboating when I make the throws could snag me a hot date. Or maybe something else just as good.” He flinched as a mid-morning wind suddenly rushed from the competitors' entryway behind him, making his hair flap in front of his eyes. Rick Shaw chuckled and nudged the stretching pony before returning to it himself. Caramel felt itchy. “I gotcha, I gotcha. Well, good luck with that...if it'll even work.” “Oh, it'll work.” “Oh?” Rick cocked his eyebrows. “Ya sound a lil' smug there, lil' stud.” Caramel stopped mid-stretch to scrutinize the taxi pony to his left. He wasn't serious, was he? “Don't call me a stud unless you're...” “Unless I'm...?” He was tempted to actually put his hoof in his mouth. Maybe then he would feel better. “...Nevermind.” “...Anyway,” Rick continued, “I dunno about what you said. I hear Big Macintosh is pretty good at shoe tricks, too. Isn't that right, buddy?” Caramel begrudgingly looked to his right: the big red lug was doing a grand stretch like a cat as he was pulled into the conversation. Of course such hulking ponies had to warm up on both sides of the 'lil' stud' to make him nervous. But he needed to focus; this was too important! On the other hoof, he realized that Macintosh had to be listening the whole time. Which meant he heard... ...Well, so much for impressing the competition. But then again, that was never the plan from the start. “...Eeyup,” said Big Macintosh as he relaxed. Caramel wondered if that pony cared that a good portion of the stadium got an eyeful with that stretch. If the cameras were any indication, then the mares behind them certainly did. “Well, 'pretty good' isn't 'amazing',” he answered. “Just you wait and see, both of you. None of you are my concern today...and not for the rest of my life.” He almost felt the other two scrutinize him at that remark...but Rick Shaw said nothing as he continued stretching. Looking to his right, he saw Big Macintosh hurriedly look away, now focusing on the mares seated in the west part of the stadium. The big lug must have been distractible with everything happening; this wasn't exactly typical for him, after all. ...Why was Big Mac competing, anyway? Thoughts of this nature were swept from his mind as Pinkie Pie's shrill cheers reached him from somewhere on his right. Great. Of all the ponies for him to think about watching him, he picked that bunch: the very last ponies he wanted to see this, besides...well...Thankfully, he couldn't hear anything else out of the blurred cacophony; but he could imagine well enough what she and her friends were saying. “So who do you think, Twilight? Huh-huh-huh-huh-huh-huh?!” “There are a lot of good candidates out there, Pinkie Pie; I really can't say.” “There's a lot o' good candidates, but only one Big Macintosh," affirmed Applejack. "He's gonna sweep it all, Ah can tell y'all that right now. KNOCK 'EM OUT, BIG BROTHER! APPLES FOREVER!” “I never thought I would see him compete in something like this. Or really at all. He's usually so reserved, and modest, and...reserved.” “I think it's awesome; we never get to see the big guy in action! I mean, can you imagine just what Big Mac's capable of when he's relaxed?! It's gonna be sick!” “Well, that's not good. I didn't bring any barf bags with me!” “...That's not what I...you know what? Forget it.” “Forget what?” “Exactly.” “Hush, girls; it's starting!” “Fillies and gentlecolts, welcome to the first competition of the Ponyville Jubilee: the Stallions' Field Cup!” The crowd roared. Spike grinned like a madpony. “Today, we're here to see the best of the best, the fittest of the fittest...and Caramel..." Caramel smiled. "...compete for the honor of being known as the top stallion in Ponyville and even Equestria! In just one minute, the Elliptical Dash will begin, so would the participants please make their way to the starting line?” Chants and declarations bounced off the stadium walls from all directions. Applejack's section started a chant for her brother - at her behest - which overpowered most of the others around them. It reached down to the starting line on the track...and Big Macintosh had a big, goofy grin slowly taking over his face. Caramel just kept his face forward. The grand marshal waved the flag, and the Elliptical Dash started. “GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “Wow, that blue one is neck and neck with Big Mac. W-what was his name again?” “WHO THE HAY CARES?! GO GO GO GO!” “WOW, look at them run like there's cupcakes at the finish line! I wonder if that's the reward for—Oooohhh...” “Ouch.” “No kidding. Full stop on his back? He'll feel that in the morning.” "That hopeless pony couldn't dash if'n he changed his name t'it. Oh, but look at him go anyway!” “HEY! Just what are you implying?” “Was Ah implyin' anythin'?!” “Girls, calm down, there's no need to—oh yeah, go go GO GO GO!” “DON'T GIVE THAT GREENHORN AN INCH, BIG BROTHER!” “GO GO GO—WHOOOOOAH YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAHHH!” The next fifteen seconds left the five ponies rubbing their ringing ears; the mares seated three rows behind them screamed loud enough for the whole west side of the stadium. Humid spring air rushed past all of them, making them sweaty and itchy; but they easily tolerated it as they cheered themselves. "The undisputed winner of the Elliptical Dash is Big Macintosh!" Thankfully, the cheering for the announcement itself was just the fading cheer for him crossing the finish line. The ponies below the shrieking mares got a brief respite, which only made them more eager to discuss what happened. “Oh, pony, THAT...was INTENSE. Did you see how he kept us fooled until the end? Just vaulted ahead of that loser at the last second.” “That turkey! Ah never knew Mac t'mess with a crowd. Then again, Ah've never seen him with any crowd.” “Am I the only one who noticed the dirt on the track?” “Huh? Wha—that's jus' disgraceful! Ah thought this wuz supposed t'be a ritzy setup! Ah guess that goes t'show t'ain't no substitute fer hard an' thorough work.” “Um...what's the next event again? Pinkie ate my brochure by accident...” “Heh heh...sorry. I get munchy when I'm nervous.” “Since when?” “Well, duh: since today!” “The next event is Randomized Hurdling, and it starts...is Big Macintosh...swaggering? Huh?” “We-hell, buck mah apples; mah big brother's been a big showoff all this time! Well, he deserves t'be, Ah'll tell you whut.” “YOU SHOW THEM WHO'S BOSS, BIG MAC! PONYVILLE FOR THE WIN!” “Yes. The racers from Paint seem very nice but...woohoo.” The west section of the stadium steadily began to quiet down, despite the other sections blasting the Ponyville Showoff for a bad attitude. Applejack considered starting a counter-rant, but at the last second she reaffirmed her faith that her brother could more than handle himself. She had other thoughts burdening her, anyway. Mostly, she wished she wasn't so busy that she couldn't bring Applebloom with her. Maybe she was one of the shriekers? It was impossible for her to tell with so many ponies above and around her! The stadium finally settled into low-volume gossip on all sides, mostly due to the competitors having left the field in order for the unicorns to change it for the next event. “...It's a shame Rarity couldn't be here.” “W-what brought that up?!," objected Rainbow Dash. "This is supposed to be a fun day, remember, Twilight?!” “It's just...that's the point. This is a great way for us to unwind, what with...everything.” All five bowed their heads in remembrance. “Well, crazy times call for cah-RAZY partying! I've got an idea; let's place some petty bets on our racing friends!” “Don' be silly, Pinkie. We'd all bet fer th' same stallion! It'd be like bettin' who's gonna be Princess Celestia next year.” "A-and we shouldn't go wasting our bits, you know." “Not to mention gambling is immoral.” “Not to...yeah, what she said...ha ha ha...” The other four looked at Rainbow flushing generously before the announcer called the competitors to the changed field. While the spectators chatted about the handsome red steed or the devilish red blowhard, the grips took exactly five seconds to rearrange the track into a wavy, hidden-obstacled path. As magical as Ponyville was, it was still dazzling to see just what money could do. The competitors lined up, the flag waved, and they were off. The racers dodged the twists and turns as best they could. The Appleloosan favorite kept up with the Ponyville favorite until the former got caught in a slip-spin on the rootless tree. Funnily enough, while the others racers ignored it, the force of his spin knocked Caramel above the tree and past most of the other racers, getting him closer and closer to the finish line...until his tumbling body broke his momentum on the track. The sideline nurses got a good laugh from that, as did a reasonable percentage of the east side. He rolled weakly into second place, which the judges awarded him somewhat out of pity, but mostly out of entertainment value. Big Macintosh won. The west crowd (Ponyville) cheered, and the east crowd (Paint Country) booed, the north and south (various sections of Equestria) just along for the ride. The victor was lauded by Spike as he helped Caramel up from the dirty track...and gave the embarrassed pony the smuggest grin either of them had known. Caramel felt itchy. Next was simpler: hoof wrestling. The competitors paired off and paired off again until the last two stallions wrestled each other. Predictably, Big Macintosh won. Predictably, the west crowd cheered...but the north and the south started to join them. When Caramel was paired with him, however, the red lug eyed him with fire in his eyes. The former braced himself for hurt as he put his hoof to his opponent and pushed for all he was worth. Infuriatingly, the latter teased him as he led him to almost win a couple of times before soundly and gracefully turning his hoof to the side. With a waggle of his eyebrows, the ironic competitor swaggered off to match strength with the Canterlot Champion, who got his own version of teasing. Next was the weighted triple jump. Each was fitted with padding proportioned to challenge them while still allowing for mobility; the challenge was who could make the most of it. It wasn't the most exciting event for either the competitors or the crowd, but the latter still enjoyed how their favorite turned the challenge into a hopping show. Even with such an aerodynamically inefficient approach, he still won against Rick Shaw's bound by a small margin, which was impressive in its own right. Caramel was just thankful that they jumped in pairs, making the crowd focus on the tired Appleloosan instead of his unremarkable performance. Nopony else heard it, but Caramel and the other competitors certainly heard Big Macintosh chuckle softly before he hopped away. They all felt the ambient temperature rise as they fumed together. The next few events were a blur to even those paying attention. The only thing that still interested the crowd was how Big Macintosh was going to pull off another showy victory. He waved to them and grinned at them, raising his profile as high as possible by whatever means appropriate. The judges and Spike all publicly noted how the stadium as a whole was eating out of his hoof, especially the mares. The sea of animation was rising into a tidal wave of infatuation for the star of the afternoon; even the eastern crowd was beginning to cheer for him. But Caramel just waited patiently. At long last, the Shoe Throwing was at hoof. The competitors would either cement their place holdings or made one last upset by each tossing five shoes quickly, accurately, and neatly to the opposing posts just seven meters from them. The number seven, one more than the number of hells for luck: Caramel always thought it was rather heavy-hoofed. The three criteria would be measured separately, then tabulated to determine the ranking. For Caramel, it was just a matter of concentration, reactivity... ...and putting that treacherous pony in his place! The crowd turned to aimless murmuring, as he expected. Shoe throwing was just something for the ritzy types funding the events who wanted one of their more popular “sports” to be featured. The locals just thought it was a ceremony to symbolize some hogwash about something silly. It was a foal's game, after all. At least, that's what it would be until the bar was raised... The grand marshal raised his flag. Caramel pressed his weight, his energy, his entire being to his servants below him. He already felt them bending to his will, the useless things. They had to land perfectly and beyond reproach, and he knew just how to do it. The flag came down. He whipped the shoes in rapid fire to the goal, seeing them angle toward it as if in slow motion. They formed a follow-the-leader chain as the first shoe started falling to the ground, right were it was supposed to fall. The others following were slightly elevated from each other, making it easier for them to settle quickly. He saw the others fly in passable patterns, but he knew he had already won. Clank. The first shoe connected without issue. C-clank. The second shoe connected as planned: no spinning. Clank. Same with the third. Clank. The fourth was good...! The last one was just inches away from its goal-- CLUNK! Caramel didn't even see it. He couldn't have seen it. He didn't dare to move as he looked to his left. The post ahead of Big Macintosh had five shoes stacked flawlessly, just a split second before his own fifth shoe landed at the post. That overfed showoff of a pony could have only done that one way: he had to have thrown the five shoes as one unit, like they were stuck together. He didn't even know that was possible. He vaguely heard ponies cheering. He only barely detected the other competitors moving toward the center for awards. He just saw the perfect shoes and messy shoes sitting next to each other as his eyes burned. Without even trying, Big Mac had turned his talent in life into nothing short of a joke. A massive cloud of confetti burst from the west section of the seats. Caramel wordlessly covered himself in the sickeningly bright mess and dragged himself toward the entryway, not even caring when most of it fell off. He knew nopony was watching him anyway. ...His talent was a joke, after all.
Apples and Oranges“So lemme get this straight: Caramel doesn't have any place to stay whatsoever...” “Nnope.” “He's been livin' off our backup feed fer roughly a year...” “Eeyup.” “An' his job prospects are non-existent, due t'his...condition.” “Eeeeeeyup.” "I don't see why they had to duck around the corner! So skittish, those two, and no mistake!" Big Macintosh winced at the city voices bouncing off the ornate walls. Living with the Oranges felt like living on a completely different farm; and in a way, it was a completely different farm. The ritzy house in which they now lived - built by him, mostly - stood deep in the acreage with a recently-hewn trail leading up to it. The charcoal grey line looked completely out of place next to the apple and orange saplings, but the new money in Ponyville seemed to like it. And that was how it was: if the Oranges' friends liked it, then it stayed. That wasn't even touching on the new crop schedule that had been implemented far too late to be ideal. The seeding during Winter Wrap-Up had been botched horribly, so none of the Apples were fit to complain...but growing oranges on an apple farm was just weird. Macintosh understood it was for extra profit, even sympathizing wholeheartedly with wanting to cover unseen expenses from sudden disasters on their original farm land. But that didn't change the fact that oranges and apples just didn't compare. Applejack sighed, then continued to whisper: “Well, this explains why he wuz hidin' 'round th' farm like he wuz bored stiff...an' why wuz scared t'touch his plate, certainly. It's a cryin' shame, it is...if'n it's all genuine. Not that Ah believe he'd make all that up jus' t'freeload off us, but Ah need t'see him tryin' t'overcome that problem o' his.” “Eeyup.” “He can stay here until then, and no longer; he'll hafta bunk with you, Mister Champeen. Although...” Macintosh felt blood rush to his withers. He felt that 'although' didn't mean what it should have meant. “Hmm?”, he responded as he looked askance to the stairway. Why did he need to make the banister so gnarled? Why did he need to make a banister? He would never understand that, no matter how many times they said it gave the place "class." “Ah noticed you seem awful determined t'help him out. If'n Ah'm right, then maybe Ah should make both 'im and you sleep in that old barn. After all,” she teased huskily, “he's yer first.” Now his entire body was flushed with pumping blood. Applejack started chuckling softly at what must have been a remarkable blush to be seen against his red hide. “T-that look on yer face is somethin' Ah'll treasure until th' end o' mah days!” Her brother shook his head. His jaw dropped and his eyes had flown open without him realizing it. “And t'think you were so gung-ho at th' Cup. Ah guess some things never change, heh heh!” He grunted humorlessly. At least he had the decency to stay the same, unlike so many. “But in all seriousness,” she diverted, “you chose well with a sweetheart like him. Granny thinks so, Applebloom thinks so; frankly, we're just glad you didn't pick from any o' the new lot.” Macintosh grimaced at the thought. As if any of those uptight fops could replace Caramel. That smile, those eyes, the way he looked in the sunset; the colt was naturally better than any sickopant...silko... sycophant, that was it. Too many new vocab words clogged his head. Caramel... "Young Caramellow seems nice enough. A little on the thin side, a little nervous, but still..." "Oh, but he REEKED, Mosely! All that sweat and dirt, and that grotesque mane! He should have had the decency to wash up before making himself at home here!" "Well, at least he was apologetic, my dear." The echoing sound of haughty voices from the other side of the house reached Mac as they saw fit, making his neck want for a generous scratching. Just how good was their hearing, anyway? “And don't you fret about...those three,” she spat. “Yer good for confidin' in yer sis. Frankly, Ah'm just glad you told me when you did, now that things are dyin' down around town. Well, at least Ah hope they are...” Both of them looked out the nearest window. Ponyville's new lights were still shining brightly, blocking the stars from view. Nopony knew what was coming...so they had to keep as much the same as they could. And they had to do this while accommodating a new relationship and a search for hidden aptitude in an apparently temperamental Caramel. It wasn't going to be easy...but it would be worth it; he knew that more than anything else. He wanted to see that smile again, and he needed some work to clear his head anyway. “AJ?” AJ kept her gaze out to the town. She was completely still. “Yes, big brother?” “...Thank you. Fer everything. Ah couldn't handle this on mah own.” She finally turned to look at him, smiling sadly. “That's what family's for, sugarcube. Ah'll make those city slickers realize that if it's the last thing Ah do. You just worry about getting that klutz t'work, bless his heart.” Big Mac sighed. He had no idea how to start doing that, now that he thought about it. His mind replayed the beige hoof piercing the hay bale beyond all reason. Shoot, if doctors couldn't make heads or tails of it, what chance did he have?! He made himself take a deep breath. “...Mac?” “N-nothin'. Just thinkin'.” His sister squinted at him, but seemed to drop it. Then again, she was just as tired as any of them were. Just looking at the orange and blue and dark brown and...colors he couldn't even name around them made them tired. “Anyway, Ah just wanted t'say...you two have mah blessin'.” Just like that, his anxiety faltered and faded for the moment. Then he felt himself making a big, goofy grin for anypony to see. Applejack answered with her own. “After all, it's not like he could hurt a big, strong stud like yerself!” Mac's grin slipped into an embarrassed grimace. “AJ!” AJ waved it away. The voices were dying down and mixing with clinking silverware. “Oh, just go up to yer somepony. It's late.” Grumbling, he complied and headed for the stairs. He looked up to the room – his room – where an exhausted Caramel had retired for the night. It was a better conclusion to this roller coaster of a day than he could have asked for. “But if he does manage to hurt you,” he heard his sister call up to him darkly, “...it won't be pretty. Mark mah words.” The big, strong stud made one final exasperated glance to Applejack. She was too protective for the wrong reasons, and this wasn't the first time. If anything, he was worried about hurting Caramel...he had already done so by accident. But it wasn't like he didn't know what he was doing. His entire life was partly devoted to being gentle. Gentle...without any real power to flaunt...maybe that was why he...? Whatever, it didn't matter. “It won't be like that.” “You know what Ah mean.” Her face was deathly serious. He raised his eyebrows at her. They stared at each other wordlessly, each trying to undermine their opponent. Caramel... He lost his nerve and snorted defiantly before going up the rest of the stairs. It was time to write this day off as convoluted and leave it at that. “You two behave now, y'hear?”, she finished, her teasing tone revived. “Good night, Applejack!”, Caramel shouted from Big Macintosh's room. Finally letting herself breathe freely, the mare eavesdropping from behind the stairs grew pensive. This served as an interesting opportunity...but for what? Whatever it was, she was going to use it for what it was worth.
