Need

by SleeplessBrony

Rating: mature
Tags: Sex, Tragedy, Cheerilee, Big Macintosh, Sad, Applejack, Apple Bloom, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 5348

Teenaged Cheerilee and Big Mac. With some Apple family history.

Teenaged Cheerilee and Big Mac. With some Apple family history.

Prequel to Romance Reports.

Newly revised!

Published 2011-10-20 18:23:59 UTC
Last updated 2011-10-20 19:15:40 UTC

Need

You don't understand.

I was there.

A young fuchsia mare makes her way slowly up the dirt road. She isn't in any kind of hurry. It's a beautiful day, yet again. Warm but not too hot. She can feel the sun's heat against her coat and her frizzy mane, styled out bigger than usual today. She feels pretty and relaxed, not a care in the world.

She crests a hill, and the fields of Sweet Apple Acres come into view before her. There's a wooden frame of a building where the barn used to be, surrounded by ponies hard at work. From this distance it almost looks like ants swarming around an anthill, busy and determined. She trots on.

As she gets closer she can make out the finer points of the job. Strong, sturdy earth ponies are gathered. The might and muscle of the Apple clan, come from far and wide. They're lifting and grunting and heaving, most of them setting up ropes and tackle to lift the thick beams of the roof into place.

She casts her eyes around, looking for him. There are many sturdy stallions, all with that same easy smile. It's a good family trait to have. But none of them are him.

"Hey! Cheerilee!" An orange filly with a shock of blonde mane comes trotting up to her, almost jumping around.

"Hey, Applejack." Cheerilee smiles down at her, not having to look down as much as before. His little sister is still a filly but just starting to grow up, getting taller everyday.

"You come to see the new barn?" She grins and jitters with excitement.

Before Cheerilee can answer, a deep rumble of a voice cuts in.

"Well if it ain't Cheerilee." A huge stallion comes over to them, his face smiling even if his lips aren't. His coat is a rich, rusty reddish-brown, not much different from the color of the beat-up leather hat he wears. "Howdy there," he says, not looking down as he tousles Applejack's hair.

Cheerilee smiles at him. She used to be scared of him, when they first met. His sheer size, and that chest-shaking voice! But now she just smiles.

"I s'pose yer lookin' for that no-account son of mine." A cheeky smile teases at the corner of his mouth.

"He's not here?" Cheerilee's face falls.

"Probably out in the orchard somewhere. Nappin'," he drawls on. "As usual."

"Out in the orchard?!" A beige mare joins them. Her emerald eyes glint with fed-up anger, flashing under a wild blonde mane. "You said you didn't know where he got to!"

"Ah don't," he says. "Just my best guess."

She snorts at him, looking unimpressed. "Yer always coverin' for him, you big softie." She gives his shoulder a playful punch, then turns to Cheerilee. "I don't know what a girl like you sees in a lazy buck like him." She winks.

"Sometimes I find myself thinking the same thing," Cheerilee says, rolling her eyes.

"Well he's lucky to have you, sugar." Her easy smile fades into just a bit of a glare. "When you find him, you tell him to get his butt back here an' help out with the barn. With his family."

"Oh, I will," Cheerilee says. She's still scared of his mother, sometimes. But she knows it's silly – the older mare has never shown her anything but kindness.

"I know you will. Yer such a good filly," his mother says. She casts a worried look at the half-finished building. "We really could use the big guy right about now."

"I can help!" Little Applejack jumps in place. "I wanna work on the barn!"

"Whoa there. I know you can, but... this part's just a little bit dangerous," his father says.

"That's right. You best let the big ponies take care of this bit," his mother adds.

Applejack pouts and kicks at the dirt. "Ah am a big pony..."

"Not quite big enough yet, girl," his mother says with a proud smile.

"Guess I'd better go find him then." Cheerilee nods at them, starting to walk off towards the orchard.

"Tell him lunch is soon." His mother immediately trots away to get back to work, shouting over her shoulder. "If he ain't too busy bein' a layabout."

His father just nods at her. Cheerilee trots off through luscious green grass, skirting the edges of fields thick with produce. She sighs as the cool shade of rows and rows of apple trees rolls over her.

She loves it here. It's more like a forest, really, long ago surpassing the size of what is typically called an orchard. It has all the calm, peaceful solitude of a forest, too. But none of the unknown. She traces a clear path between the trees, knowing exactly where she's going.

The sun breaks through the canopy, lighting up a ribbon of lazy water cutting through the orchard. She walks up slowly, savoring the feel of soft dirt under her hooves. More and more, she feels the tickle of grass against her forelocks as the trees thin out.

And there he is. Lying in the shade of an apple tree, chewing on a long blade of grass. His eyes rest on the lazy creek, floating along with the current.

"Mac," she says.

His ears flicker, and he turns his head to her. "Hey there, beautiful." His green eyes light up. He smiles at her, letting the blade of grass fall from his teeth.

She walks up and sits next to him. He's a big pony, definitely, almost twice her size. But despite all his thick, young muscle he looks weirdly lanky, like he still needs to grow into his skeleton. Anyone can tell that he'll be huge one day, maybe even bigger than his father.

"So... what's up?" she says.

"Oh, you know." His words roll out, plodding. "Just takin' her easy..."

"Like always," they say in unison. He gives her an amused look. She sticks her tongue out at him.

"Shouldn't you be at the library? How you gonna keep those straight A's if yer just hangin' out all day?" he says.

"It's too nice out," she says. "Besides, I heard the Apple family was having a good old-fashioned barn raising."

His smile disappears. He looks back at the stream, staring at nothing.

"Your parents told me to tell you..."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." He gets up and paces back and forth slowly. "Get back to work. That's all they ever say. Plow that field. Feed those pigs. Raise some dumb ole' barn."

"They just want you to help. Your whole family's there," Cheerilee says. She rolls her eyes just a little, even as her voice is full of sympathy.

"And all of 'em's workin'! Work, work, work. I tell ya, not a one of 'em knows how to just settle down. Buncha crazy workaholic ponies."

"I heard you can work pretty hard." She smiles deviously. "Not that I've ever seen it."

"Well it ain't all I do."

"What are you, joking? It's not something you ever do." Cheerilee drags a little circle in the dirt with her hoof, grinning.

Mac snorts at her and lies down again with a heavy thud. He shakes his head slowly. "I ain't cut out for this dusty old farm business. I got better places to be. Who would wanna spend their whole life diggin' around in a buncha dirt?"

"Oh, come on," Cheerilee scoffs. "You and I both know you love this farm. Or else that apple half on your rear is a liar."

"Just 'cuz I'm gonna do the family business don't mean I gotta stay here all my life. I could go sellin' the produce. Bring our finest wares to all the big cities. Fillydelphia. Manehatten. Heck, maybe even Canterlot!" He talks with dreamy excitement, city lights in his eyes.

She always gets a little amused when he rambles like this. Not in a condescending way, at all – she finds it heartwarming. Cute, in a good way. He understands by now.

"Have you told your parents about these grand plans?" Cheerilee asks.

He sighs and glares at her, gently. She gives him a moment to pout. He gets so touchy sometimes. She thinks that's cute, too.

"They don't understand." Mac sighs again. "Everything's so simple to them. Just work and farm and work." He raises his head, lowering his voice to mock his father's. "'Good, honest livin' son. That's all we need.'" He snorts, rudely.

"You didn't tell them."

"I never have time! Always somethin' to do."

"Isn't today special, though?" Cheerilee asks. "Your father was really upset that you took off. I could tell."

"Well he can go shove it." Mac glares.

Cheerilee's jaw drops.

"An' she can, too." His glare hardens.

"Mac!"

He winces. She gives him that look. He looks smaller than her somehow, for just a moment, a little weak foal under her glare.

"...Listen to me, goin' on like some kinda whiny unicorn." He's all relaxed smiles again, like nothing happened. "How you been?"

She gives him a slanted smile, not quite willing to let that one slide. She does anyway. For now. "The usual, I guess. Berry Punch kept me up all last night complaining about that jerk. Speaking of unicorns."

"Ugh," Mac moans, shaking his head. "I don't even know if I can stand to hear more o' that. How many times have they broke up now?"

"More than too many."

"Yeesh." He rolls his eyes lazily. "No offense to yer friend and all, but..."

"I know." She stares at the grass, trying to hide all the worry on her face. But that doesn't feel good. She looks back at him, and her warm smile returns. It always does.

"I guess my friends can't all be as lucky as me," she says.

"You? Lucky?" He screws his face up in confusion. "I thought you was datin' some kinda lazy scoundrel what sleeps all day."

"I am." She gets up and nuzzles her face into the broad red field of his neck. She sits down next to him, snuggling up against his side. "He just happens to be the nicest gentlecolt in Ponyville, too."

He grins down at her. He used to blush when she said things like that. He's getting used to it. She bumps him with her head. She's wondering why he isn't kissing her already.

He takes the hint. He's getting used to that, too.

They kiss, dizzy with teenage hormones. She pulls back but he keeps going, touching her neck with his lips. He kisses and nuzzles her, nickering all the while. She takes it, biting her lip, loving every glorious second of it. Then she pushes his head away with a hoof.

"Okay, okay," she says, unable to hide her aroused smile. "That's enough of that."

"Is that right?" he says, flicking his ears. "You don't want me kissing your neck?"

"You know it gets me all worked up."

"What about here?" He pecks her shoulder quickly.

She shivers. "No, that feels really good."

"Mmm. How about here?" He leans over and kisses her back.

"I guess that's okay."

"Aright then. Here?" He drags his lips down her back, grazing at the base of her rump.

"Whoa there, big boy. Getting a little warm."

He chuckles and shoots her a cheeky grin. Then he darts his head back and snags her tail with his teeth.

"Mac!" She smacks his side with her hoof, more than a little hard, yanking her backside away.

He lets go. "Heh. Sorry," he says, still grinning.

"Come on. We've talked about this."

"I know, I know," he says. "I still don't see why you ain't comfortable with me."

"It's not you. I'm waiting until college." She sticks her nose up in the air.

"And what's so comfortable about college?"

"Don't be obtuse," she snaps at him. He raises an eyebrow, and her face softens. "I think it's better this way. Don't get me wrong, I like you. But I'm just not..."

"...comfortable with something so serious yet," he finishes her sentence, adopting her tone perfectly. She gives him an amused pout. He smiles in happy defeat. "I know, you told me a hundred times."

"I'll have to do it a hundred times more, at the rate you're going."

"Sorry." He nuzzles her gently. "You know us stallions. Get all thick in the head when we see a pretty filly."

"...Is that so?" she says, forcing suspicion into her voice.

"Well shoot, not me. I mean... Ah am thick in the head. But I ain't that thick. You're my girl. Yer gonna be my one and only."

He looks her right in the eye as he says it. She trembles inside, like she always does. At times like this, she wants to give in. But she doesn't.

"Thank you. For understanding. For waiting with me," she says.

"Heck, it ain't even a thing. But I do s'pose it means I'll be goin' to college."

"Ha!" She immediately feels mean. "...Sorry. You really want to go college?"

"What, you think I ain't smart enough?" He fakes an upset tone.

She sees right through it. "No, you do fine in all your classes. When you bother to show up," she says.

He guffaws loudly, sporting a big, goofy grin. "Yeah, well..." he trails off, caught dead-to-rights. "I ain't made for that school stuff. Sittin' inside all day, listenin' and scribblin' away. I ain't like you."

"You aren't made for the farm, and you aren't made for school." She rolls her eyes again, smiling. "So just what are you made for, Mac?"

She lowers her eyelids, inviting him with her eyes. He grins deeper, hungry now. They both know that the next words out of his mouth will be something suggestive.

Instead they both turn their heads. Something is ringing in their ears, something faint and high-pitched. Their faces fall immediately, settling into confusion.

"That sounds like..." Cheerilee says. It rings out again, cutting her off.

"AJ," he says breathlessly, worry creasing around his eyes.

And then he's gone. Cheerilee catches sight of a red blur, tearing off through the trees. She gets up and runs after him, with no hope of catching up or even keeping up. She follows anyway. She knows where he's going.

She runs through the broad space between trees, her lungs burning. She gallops out into sunshine and dry heat and through grass and fields and ponies are gathered around the frame of a barn and there's some kind of commotion.

She freezes, panting for breath. Her mouth hangs open.

Something's gone wrong. One of the roof beams, a solid length of timber, is lying haphazardly across the ground. Snapped and frayed ropes are splayed everywhere. A few Apple family ponies are gathered around it, shoving and grunting.

Mac is screaming, a high-pitched, uncontrolled series of wails. His eyes are pinpricks. He's kicking and butting at the wooden beam, not even budging it. Cheerilee's brain tries to process what she's seeing under the beam, but it doesn't make sense. His mother's body is sticking out from one side, and a shock of red hair is sticking out of the other. Where's her head?

Almost right next to her, her husband is pinned under the wood

Dear god he's ALIVE how?!

His neck and head are sunk into the dirt. His eyes are rolled back into whites. He's snorting, a choked, ugly gurgle. His back legs kick feebly against the ground.

Little Applejack darts between adults, screaming "PAPA!" over and over again. She paws frantically at the dirt under her father's head, trying to dig him out. His leather hat slides further down his head, and she bats it out of the way, wailing and crying.

"Get the foals outta here! NOW!"

Someone yells it, and it snaps Cheerilee's ears into working. There's lots of screaming, she just didn't notice before somehow. The crowd around the beam is growing, frantic orders are yelled out. A burly mare grabs Applejack and drags her away. It isn't long before she needs help with the task.

Applejack kicks and flails and grunts, not wasting breath by screaming anymore. Other ponies join the first mare, holding Applejack's limbs, slowly dragging her breathless body away. Between the accident and Applejack, almost nopony notices the tiny filly with a big red bow in her hair, watching with huge eyes.

Cheerilee gasps. The little filly is frozen near her, staring at her parents.

"Apple Bloom?" Cheerilee looks back and forth. Her gut heaves, not really because of the blood slowly creeping out from under the beam but because someone so young is seeing it.

"Apple Bloom!" She walks between the filly and what used to be her parents, blocking her view. Apple Bloom tries to crane her neck to see around Cheerilee.

"Apple Bloom!" Cheerilee snaps the filly's eyes to attention. "Sweetie, you need to come with me right now."

"But..."

"Right now!" She hardens her tone, the way her mother always does. She bumps Apple Bloom and herds her along, away, towards the farmhouse. Apple Bloom shuffles with her, completely passive.

"Bu... but..." she blubbers, leaking tears and a shiny film of snot.

"It's gonna be okay, sweetie." Cheerilee nudges her along. "They'll bring the doctors and look at them and it's gonna be okay."

The yelling fades behind them. Cheerilee can still pick out Mac's pained screams with her ears. She pushes Apple Bloom towards the wide porch of the farmhouse, towards the other young ponies, herded up by their mothers or aunts.

Apple Bloom chokes out a stream of sobbing nonsense, dragging her hooves as she walks.

"It's gonna be okay." Cheerilee holds back a sob of her own, nuzzling Apple Bloom as they walk. "They're gonna be okay."

• • •

She knocks on his bedroom door. There's no answer. She knocks again.

She shifts uncomfortably on her hooves. She hates this dress – it feels tight in all the wrong places. But it's the only black thing she owns.

Still no answer. She opens the door.

He's sitting at the window. The room is mostly dark, the setting sun casting a wide beam towards the wall. A swarm of dust dances in the light.

"Mac?" she says quietly. She walks in, closing the door silently behind her. He doesn't move.

She slides up next to him and sits down. He's looking out the window, staring at nothing. He's wearing a black tie, rumpled and carelessly knotted.

"Mac..." She reaches her hoof up to him, but she can't bring herself to actually touch him. He still doesn't move. She can barely see him breathing.

They sit. She can't quite tell if he's frowning or not. His lips are a grim line. His eyes are doing all the frowning.

"You didn't say anything. To anyone. They're all worried about you," she says. He starts to turn to her but halts, his mouth opening just a bit. He settles back into stone.

"I'm worried about you," she says. His whole body sinks. His eyes close.

They sit some more. Cheerilee fidgets motionlessly, darting her eyes back and forth from her boyfriend to the window. The dead silence is killing her.

"They're all downstairs with Applejack. She can't stop crying," Cheerilee says. Mac's head sinks, bowing towards the windowsill. She goes on, choking a little, unable to stop herself.

"I don't think Apple Bloom understands what happened. She keeps asking me... when they're coming back from the doctor's..."

Mac lets out a short, anguished wail, knocking his head against the windowsill. Cheerilee pulls his face up, trying to turn him towards her. He jerks his eyes away, the corner of his mouth quivering.

"Mac... say something..." Her eyes mist up. Her voice wavers.

He stands stock-still.

"Please... talk to me."

He cinches his eyes shut, gently shaking his head back and forth. He's at war with his own face, pain bursting at every seam.

"Come on. Come here." She pulls at his shoulder. He follows, like his little sister, completely obedient. She leads him in a slow shuffle over to his bed.

"Sit down." She pats the sheets. Instead of sitting he collapses, flopping onto his side. He sinks into the worn-out mattress. She lies down next to him, almost on him, seamlessly clinging to him. She scoots her way up, cradling his head in her arms, resting it against her chest.

"I'm sorry, Mac. I'm so, so sorry," she whispers. She strokes his mane, slowly. He turns his head, sliding against her forelegs, and looks up at her. His eyes are wide open, crazy, shaking.

"I... they... I..." he chokes out, right on the edge.

"Shhhhh... Shhhh..." She pulls his head tight against her chest again, holding him.

"I..." He wraps his arms around her, squeezing her so tight it hurts. She doesn't say anything.

And then he sobs, loudly. His whole body wracks with it. She can feel him grit his teeth, feel his hot tears dripping against her chest. He crushes her in his forelegs, shaking against her. She shushes him and strokes his hair, and they lie like that, listening to Mac's halting moans.

"They're gone," he gasps out, the words overflowing. "They're gone. Mah family's gone."

"No!" she almost scolds him. "You have so much family, Mac. Granny Smith is downstairs right now saying she could come live here. Or your Aunt and Uncle Orange... they said they could take the three of you."

"NO." He snaps his head up, glaring through his tears.

She jolts, startled.

"No," he repeats. "This is home. They need me. They need... we need... even if I gotta stay here alone."

He breaks down again, hiding his face against her chest. She feels silent tears sliding down her own face and feels weak, foolish. She has to be strong. He can be strong. They can be strong. Together.

She kisses his forehead.

"You're not alone, Mac," she whispers into his ear. "I'm here for you. I'm here with you."

He picks his face up, staring at her. He's a complete mess, a snapshot of loss.

"I love you, Mac." She smiles hopefully.

His face shifts uncomfortably, the different parts not knowing how to coordinate. The tiniest flicker of happiness shines through the pain.

"...What?" he wheezes out through a hoarse throat.

"I love you."

He sniffs, letting the shadow of a smile tug at his mouth.

"I love you, too."

They lock eyes, two shades of water-logged green staring into each other. She gently pulls his face towards hers and presses her forehead against his. They both close their eyes, resting against one another.

She can feel the ragged breaths in his chest smooth out, calming. His sobs die down, getting weaker each time. She sighs in relief.

"I'm sorry," he whispers with gravel in his throat. "I'm sorry. I'm a big blubberin' mess."

"Mac!" She pulls her face away to look at him. She didn't mean to sound scolding, but her astonishment shocked it out of her. He winces at her voice, weak and wounded.

"You don't have anything to be sorry for," Cheerilee says. She gently glares at him, taking no argument, the way her mother always does. It doesn't work.

"Yeah... I do," he mutters. Pain starts to leak out onto his face again, and he casts his eyes down, away. A real ache burns into her chest at the sight of him. She has to do something, anything.

She bites her lip, steeling herself up. Then she grabs his face again and forces his lips against hers.

"Mmm?!" Mac says into her mouth. She can tell the look on his face just from the sound. He quickly relaxes, letting her have her way with him.

She gives it everything she's got. She's not an experienced mare by any measure, but she kisses him with everything she can. He lies there and takes it, slowly working his arms around her as she holds him like a vise.

She breaks off and he gasps, only to be cut off as she attacks again. She kisses him over and over, hardly letting him breathe. Her brain is a jumble – his rough, hot tongue feels so good against hers, even from under the crushing burden of all that's happened in the last few days.

She presses her body against him and feels something thick and hard poke against her belly. It surprises her, interrupting her volley of kisses, and she looks down. He follows her eyes.

"Aw, jeez..." He almost looks like he could cry again. "I'm sorry. Sorry. It just... you know."

She stares at it, her mouth hanging open a little. She's never seen it before, not at full mast like this.

"I'm sorry," he repeats. "I know this ain't the time. I can't... I'll just... I don't know..."

His body cringes and shrinks, even as his member quivers, hard as oak. He tries to cover it with his hooves, bowing his head in shame.

He doesn't see her determined glare. She forces their lips together yet again, silencing his yelp of surprise. She pours herself into him, feeding him her tongue. She slides her body against his, cursing the fabric of her dress. She wants to be against him, with him, in as many ways as possible.

Something inside her is pulling, urging. It's so much more than the usual buzzing of adolescent hormones. She's learned to keep those on a leash, for the most part. This is completely different, even as it draws from that same hormonal rush, melding with it, drawing and giving strength.

She breaks the kiss and leans her forehead against him, pinning him to her with one forearm. With her other she paws at the hem of her dress, hiking it up onto her thighs.

"What are you doing?!" Mac gasps out.

"Please," she whispers, begging with her eyes. She rolls onto her back, pulling him with her.

"What..." His face is finally amazed enough to show something besides hurt. "You wanna do this? Now?"

"Mac..."

You need me.

"I need you," she says. She yanks her skirt up over her rump, rolling it up her waist. Then she wraps her hind legs around his body, flexing her hips up against him. The hairs of her coat rub against his length, caressing up and down, sending an involuntary shiver through his body.

He stares down at her in shock. She looks up at him, her eyes deadly serious. She keeps flexing her hips against him, tightening her hooves against his back. And then something gives way in his face. His eyes narrow. He pants out a few heavy breaths, and then he's crushing her under him, kissing her hard.

She can feel him awkwardly jabbing, poking against her thigh and then her belly and then just to the right of the mark. His haunches shake, pent up and eager. He stops kissing her and steadies himself, gasping a hot breath out right against her ear. She grits her teeth, wobbling on the edge of being overwhelmed.

He presses against her. Her breathing falls apart, devolving into shallow, nervous gasps. He pushes, not so much spreading her as caving her in, and she moans loudly.

Mac halts, not sure if he's paining her or pleasuring her. She pulls him tighter against her body, her thighs trembling. He takes the hint.

He slides in, slowly and gratingly forcing himself up to the hilt. They both let out another moan as their hips meet. She hides her face against his neck. She doesn't want him to see her grimace, her clenched teeth. There is pleasure somewhere lost in there, but for now it hurts – she's not nearly as wet as she thought.

He makes a few slow strokes, getting easier each time. She never thought she would feel it in such detail. It feels like every sliding pull and push takes whole minutes. She can feel herself wrapped tightly around every pore of him, her body squeezing without her.

He keeps stroking into her, holding her with his forelegs. He settles into an easy rhythm. Her body eases his path, now that it's realized what's going on. She feels like she's gushing around him. Warm wetness runs down her cheeks, tickling her and soaking into the base of her tail.

"Ah! Ahhhh..." she squeaks into his ear. It still hurts, but it's rapidly getting better. Years from now, when she has a better concept of what's big and what isn't, she'll wonder how she ever did this. For now she just revels in the feeling, all her instincts singing in appreciation.

He picks up speed, blasting heavy breaths into her mane. He's smothering her under him, sinking her down into the mattress with each pounding stroke. His instincts are taking over, too.

She takes it lovingly. It feels wonderful, giving herself to him. Sinking under the weight of his body. She can barely breath, her chest is pressed down into the mattress. Her face finally relaxes, smiling against his thick neck.

His breathing picks up. He slaps against her, harder and faster, sending ripples through her whole body. Her heart pounds in her ears as her body tells her what's coming next.

He plunges in and out of her, every muscle straining, his hips a blur. She feels herself going, smashed into nothing, all these feelings completely overwhelming her. She sucks in air loudly, making little high-pitched moans, short of breath, feeling his huge stallionhood drive into her over and over and over and filling her completely and it's incredible and terrible and it's building and

He pulls out of her just in time. He grunts, deafening, a burning roar against her flicking ear. She feels hot spurts land on her belly and paint the insides of her thighs as her whole body clenches, empty. Then he collapses onto her. They lie like that, burying their faces against each other, his seed cemented between them. Neither of them cares.

His pride presses against her belly, still rock hard. She'll come to appreciate that, over time. For now, it's just in the way. She rolls against him and he falls to the side easily, dead weight. His weight lifted off of her, she breathes anew.

They lie like that, wrapped around each other.

Neither says a word for a very, very long time.

Cheerilee shifts her weight and the mess between them pulls at the hairs of her coat, stiff and cold.

She opens her eyes. Her smile fades instantly. He's lying next to her, almost looking asleep. She knows he isn't, but his face is full of troubled dreams all the same.

"Mac?"

He opens his eyes. Just as full of pain as before.

"I love you." She looks deep into his eyes, searching, trying to grab at something. She can't find it.

He smiles weakly back at her.

"I love you, too," he says. The smile doesn't last. She glances away, dragging her skirt back down over her hips. The sticky mess on her coat suddenly makes her skin crawl. She has the urge to go wash it off, immediately. But she stays.

He pulls her close again, nuzzling against her face. She relaxes into his arms. He clings to her. He sobs against her, trying to play it off as a cough, or a clearing of his throat. It doesn't work.

She hides her face against him again. Tears are running down her cheeks, and she's not sure why, despite all the obvious possible reasons.

They lie like that, in each others arms, really together for the first time. She won't realize until she's looking back on it that something feels off. They'll make love again, many times. Mac always holds her afterward and makes her feel warm and close and loved. Every time.

But right now, even with his chest rising against her and his nose against her ear, it feels like he's far, far away.