Applejack was smiling as she trotted up to Sugar Cube Corner, a good-sized cart full of apples hooked to her harness. She walked briskly around to the back door of the confectionery, where shipments of any kind had always been received, humming a soft little ditty to herself.
Once the cart was backed up properly, the farmpony expertly unhooked herself and knocked on the wide door made specifically for such deliveries. She turned to make sure – for the fourth time – that all the apples were present, first of all, and that they were also perfectly ripe and clean. Just as she gave a satisfied nod, a voice called over to her.
“On time, as always, Applejack!” Mr. Cake smiled brightly as he brought out the Corner’s own bins clearly labeled ‘Apples.’
“Well, shucks, Mr. Cake,” she responded, tugging the brim of her hat in a respectful ‘Hello.’ “Granny always says there ain’t nothin’ worth doin’ if you’re gonna be late for it.”
“That’s certainly a good policy for business,” the lanky stallion agreed with a nod. “You go on inside – Mrs. Cake’ll be expecting you. I can unload today.”
“You sure?” The farmpony frowned. “Ah always help you unload, an’ Ah certainly wasn’t expectin’ t’ be doin’ any diff’rent t’day.”
“I’m sure.” He gestured toward the warm and cheery atmosphere of the bakery, a stark contrast to the dreary pre-dawn mist of mid-autumn.
“Well, alright then.” The change of routine alerted Applejack to a barely visible hint of worry in the stallion’s kind green eyes and a skittishness in his demeanor that was uncommon, even after the birth of the Cakes’ twins. Her frown deepened as she turned to walk inside.
As she crossed the threshold, the delicious scents wafting toward her very nearly erased all the discomfort she had just been feeling. The farmpony inhaled deeply, savoring the warm, earthy smell of baking bread mixed with the tang of berries and other fruit being baked into muffins, cupcakes, scones and various other pastries. The proud mare would never say so aloud, but she silently admitted to herself that the variety and expertise with which the food at Sugar Cube Corner was prepared very nearly eclipsed the traditional preparation of tried and true recipes of the Apple Family.
Applejack caught sight of the powder blue pony she was looking for, and made her way over to where she was counting out the bits for the till. A small grin quirked her muzzle when she heard the older mare muttering numbers to herself as she counted.
Not wanting to interrupt and cause her to lose count, Applejack occupied herself with gazing around the front of the store. The twins were playing quietly with some blocks in the corner. The farmpony was struck by how much they seemed to have grown in the short months since their birth – that they were being so quiet was a shock in and of itself!
Her frown returned when she realized what was missing from the familiar scene. It was, coincidentally, the very same reason the calm and quiet atmosphere felt so wrong.
“Where’s Pinkie Pie?” she asked before she could stop herself, and felt her ear twitch at the sudden halt of the regular clink of bits into the till.
“Oh!” Mrs. Cake looked up, flustered. “Applejack, dear, how long have you been standing there?”
“Not long at all, Mrs. Cake,” she replied, an apologetic smile on her face. “Mr. Cake said t’ come inside instead o’ helpin’ him unload, but Ah didn’t wanna interrupt you.”
Only now that she was paying attention and looking her in the face did Applejack note the dark circles under Mrs. Cake’s eyes and the sheer exhaustion in her movement. Her smile vanished.
“Are y’all doin’ all right?” she asked with concern. “You seem awful tired, an’ Mr. Cake didn’t seem t’ be firin’ on all cylinders either.”
Mrs. Cake heaved a sigh. “Well, dearie, that’s why you’re in here and not unloading the cart.” Her magenta eyes darted over to the twins, to the front door, and then anxiously back to Applejack. “Would you be able to go up and talk with Pinkie for a bit? It’s just that we thought it would help to have a good friend to talk to. You know how it is….”
“Of course,” Applejack replied instantly. She glanced up the stairs to a silent and darkened second level. “Is she even awake?”
“She hasn’t slept for a couple days now,” the blue mare replied. “I stayed up with her all night last night.”
“All night?” The farmpony felt her eyes bulge. “That really is serious.” Pinkie often stayed up all night planning parties and such, but never had Applejack seen or heard of anypony needing to stay with her all night – especially not when it was combined with the look of worry and fear that Mrs. Cake now wore. “Ah’ll just head on up, then.”
“Thank you, dear.” She smiled gratefully and turned back to continue counting.
Applejack’s trepidation formed a small, heavy ball in her belly as she started up the staircase. This was one thing she was not terribly good at doing – talking to ponies about their personal problems. At least, she assumed that was what she’d been enlisted to do. She briefly wondered why the Cakes had asked her instead of, say, Fluttershy. Likely because she had the delivery scheduled, she supposed.
Creak.
A quick glance down at the offending step told Applejack all it needed was one more nail on the left-hoof side. It would need to be just about half a hoof from the front of the board and a hooftip from the wall. She’d have to remember to tell the Cakes.
All too soon, she reached the top of the staircase. Taking a deep breath for good measure, she walked slowly up to the brightly decorated door with a large yellow balloon flanked by two just-as-large blue balloons. She had been to Pinkie’s room before, sure, but in this kind of circumstance? Applejack wanted to turn tail and run fast as she could back to the emotional stability of the farm.
The farmpony frowned and shook her head. She was being ridiculous. It was probably a quick fix – she just needed a close friend to talk her through… whatever it was. These thoughts, paired with one more deep breath and a quick adjustment of her Stetson, bolstered her confidence. Granny’s voice echoed in her mind, “Nothin’ to it but t’ do it!” Without allowing herself to think too much more about it, she raised a hoof resolutely.
Knock-Knock-Knock.
“Pinkie?” Applejack had forgotten how eerily quiet it was until her ears folded back at how loud her voice seemed. She cleared her throat with a frown, refusing to be deterred. “Anypony home? ‘S just me, Applejack.”
“Come in,” a quivering voice that might’ve been Pinkie’s barely reached the orange mare.
She pushed the door open to reveal her friend. The party pony’s pink mane and tail lay flat on her head and the bed, respectively, and her blue eyes were full of tears waiting to follow their forebears down the wet trails of fur plastered to her cheeks. She sported deep, dark bags under her eyes as well, a souvenir of at least a couple sleepless nights.
“What happened?” Applejack blurted, mouth agape, her mind unable to summon forth her usual tact while taking in the sight before her.
“Oh, Applejack,” she wailed as the farmpony cautiously approached the bed. Pinkie’s sniffles rapidly dissolved into more tears, though when she spoke next it was remarkably coherent. “I went to see D-doctor Stable the other day… for my yearly ch-check-up.”
“Uh-huh,” the orange mare responded encouragingly, even as she looked desperately for a clean patch of floor to stand in. She stifled every thought currently cursing Pinkie’s chaotic room and looked up into her friend’s anguished eyes. “An’ what did he say that’s got you so upset?”
Pinkie’s tears slowed, and she sighed. “He did some tests on me… and told me that I can’t eat sugary treats anymore.” Her eyes welled up again.
Applejack frowned. “Why can’t you eat like you normally do? Y’ seem jus’ fine t’ me.”
The pink mare fished a handkerchief from a pile of clutter sitting on her bed without even needing to look at it. She blew her nose loudly and deposited it in an identical-looking pile on the other side of the bed. Pinkie looked at her friend and stated in a much clearer voice, “I have diabetes.”
“Can’t say I’m surprised,” a nasty little voice in Applejack’s head whispered instantaneously.
“Ah’m awful sorry t’ hear that, Pinkie,” the farmpony replied quickly. She patted her friend’s hoof with her own, inwardly furious at that little whisper.
Pinkie’s lip began to quiver again. “It’s gonna be so hard, Applejack! I d-d-don’t know if I can do it. But, if I c-can’t… he… he says I’ll die!” She threw her hooves around the farmpony’s neck and bawled into her shoulder in earnest.
Applejack’s mind went fuzzy at her friend’s statement. “Pinkie Pie” and “die,” despite the fact that they rhyme, were not words she would ever have thought to use together. She patted her friend’s back automatically, just as she would do for Apple Bloom when she was scared during a loud storm.
“’S okay, Pinkie,” the farmpony soothed her friend.
“I DON’T WANNA DIE OF BEETES!!” the pink mare wailed, her volume causing Applejack’s ears to fold back.
“Listen here, Pinks.” Applejack stepped back to fix her with a stern look. “You ain’t gonna die. You have friends t’ help you out an’ ev’rythin’s gonna be jus’ fine.”
“Promise?” The wavery blue eyes fixed on Applejack made the farmpony’s insides clench, but her heart lifted slightly to see some of the curl back in Pinkie’s mane.
“Ah promise.” She winked at her friend as confidently as she was able.
She felt her throat tighten as the voice hissed in her mind. “And just how do you think you can promise that, AJ? Can you see the future?” She shoved it back into the dark corner from whence it came and said her goodbyes to Pinkie.
“Ah’ll stop by Fluttershy’s an’ ask her t’ come give you a visit herself,” she heard herself say. “She’s a mite better at this than Ah am.”
Pinkie sniffed quietly, a small, hopeful smile beginning to take form on her muzzle. “Thanks, Jackie.”
After speaking with the Cakes on her way out (though she couldn’t bring herself to actually mention the squeaky step – they had enough to be getting on with), Applejack hitched herself back up to her cart and trotted in the direction of Sweet Apple Acres. Luckily, Fluttershy’s cottage was situated near the same patch of Everfree Forest as the farm and thus was on the way home. It would take no time at all to stop by and let her know about Pinkie Pie. The pegasus’ kind nature would take care of the rest.
The electric energy that normally buzzed through her veins while she was being productive in the early morning was now absent from her limbs. She knew the voice that had been plaguing her well - the voice of her Element. Applejack had found that the trouble with bearing the Element of Honesty came whenever she attempted to lie, white lie or otherwise. It was unnerving when it popped up, a small annoyance, perhaps, for nopony could be honest all of the time. But this time, unlike many others, it troubled her far more. This was no white lie to prepare a surprise party. This was life and death.
The farmpony suppressed these thoughts as she continued through town, passing groups of yawning ponies just beginning their day. She managed a small, inward grin at the thought that Fluttershy had most certainly been up as long as she had. Indeed, no other ponies in town rose as early as the two of them.
Despite the fact that her pace was slower than usual, Applejack made good time and was crossing the bridge in front of Fluttershy's cottage before she knew it. She came to a stop, unhitching herself again with barely a thought, and swiveled her ears to pick up any hint of the gorgeous soprano that generally accompanied her pegasus friend's morning housework and chores.
As if on cue, the pegasus in question soared gracefully around to the front of the cottage while singing a wordless tune. Applejack smiled fully, always content to bask in her friend’s beautiful voice.
“You’re soundin’ good as ever, Fluttershy,” she called out when the tune had ceased. “All that singin’ with the Ponytones has only made you better!”
Fluttershy blushed as she flew over and landed gently in front of the farmpony.
“Thank you, Applejack.” She smiled. “The Ponytones have certainly been helping me build confidence. What brings you by today?”
Applejack let out a small sigh at the question, her smile fading completely. “Ah was jus’ over makin’ a delivery at Sugarcube Corner. Long story short, Pinkie Pie’s not doin’ too well.”
“Oh no!” A yellow hoof flew to Fluttershy’s mouth, her eyes wide. “What happened?”
“Ah reckon Pinkie’d better be the one t’ tell you what’s got her down. Ah did mah best t’ make her feel better, but Ah don’t think Ah helped. Ah was hopin’ you’d be able t’ drop by sometime t’day an’ fix the mess Ah made of things - you’re a bushel of apples better’n Ah am at makin’ ponies feel like ev’rythin’s gonna be A-OK.”
“I don’t think that’s true at all!” The pegasus gave her friend a stern look. “Of all the ponies I’ve ever met, you’re the one with a talent for making ponies feel safe and protected. I’m sure she felt much better after talking with you.”
“Ah sure hope you’re right, sugarcube.” Applejack now felt slightly queasy thinking of the lies she had told the Ponyville party pony. Her tongue was ten times heavier than normal as she spoke again. “Don’t s’pose you’d mind checkin’ in on her anyhow?”
“Oh, of course!” Fluttershy nodded her head for emphasis. “I just finished all of my chores, so I can go over right away.” Her aqua eyes searched Applejack’s face. “Are you okay?”
“Ah’ll be jus’ fine,” she replied, bracing herself. The Voice of Honesty, as she’d come to call it (she’d never pretended to be creative), was mercifully silent. “Might be that gettin’ back t’ Sweet Apple Acres an’ doin’ some chores’ll clear mah head.”
“I won’t keep you any longer, then,” Fluttershy said, and began to trot with her friend toward the apple cart and the town. “Thank you for coming by to let me know.” After seeing Applejack all hitched up again, she waved a hoof and launched herself into the air once more, heading straight toward the confectionery.
The farmpony waved back to her friend until she had disappeared over the nearest copse of trees, then turned in the direction of the farm. She still felt uneasy about what she’d said to Pinkie, but talking with Fluttershy had helped somewhat.
“Lying by omission now, I see,” the Voice whispered cruelly, barely letting her finish her thought. “Not even a True Friend and the Element of Kindness can inspire you to be truthful about your fears and insecurities?”
“Shut up,” Applejack muttered under her breath, urging her trot into a canter. The relative comfort of the farm wasn’t far now.
“I’m merely here to guide you according to your Element,” it sneered. “You can hardly blame me for pointing out where you’ve failed to do so.”
She bit back a sharp response and focused on the last leg of her trip, knowing full well what other ponies would say to her about talking back to some Element of Honesty only she could hear. Apple trees flew past on both sides as she valiantly tried to outrun the voice still lodged in her mind. The doors of the barn slammed open with the force of her strong hooves, and she parked the cart in its proper place in record time.
Not wanting to rest for even a moment, for fear of more stinging remarks from the Voice, she trotted out to the fields with a couple baskets on her back. Applebucking always helped her to clear her mind.
The farmpony threw the baskets on the ground, hardly caring whether they were correctly positioned, and turned to give the large Honeycrisp a strong buck. It was like she had always done: crouch, shift to the forehooves, tense, and…
THWOCK!
“Consarn it!” The sudden pain in ‘Bucky McGillicuddy’ caused her to stumble. It had been years since she’d missed the center of the trunk like that.
Applejack tested her hoof by slowly putting weight on it. She winced at the dull pain that throbbed through it when she did so. Realizing that she now had no choice but to rest for a bit, she sighed with resignation. She flopped onto the ground, carefully avoiding any movement that would aggravate her newly sprained hoof.
A small rustle of grass was her only warning before a large red foreleg appeared in front of her muzzle.
“What’ve Ah told you ‘bout takin’ your time an’ bein’ careful when you’re workin’?” Big McIntosh drawled as jokingly as he knew how. “Almos’ looks like a twister blew through th’ orchard.”
Applejack looked up at her big brother, who had a glint of mischief in his eyes. She lowered her head back to its place atop her forehooves - dang thing was gettin’ too heavy to hold up with all the pressure behind her eyes.
“Sorry Mac,” she replied hoarsely, hating the way her throat tightened and burned. “Ah just ain’t havin’ a good day is all.”
She felt the large presence of her brother shift, and felt the ground shake slightly as he sat down by her side. This was a sign she knew well. Big Mac wasn’t much of a talker, so she’d learned to read his body language almost as accurately as if he had said exactly what he meant. He was ready to listen, and wouldn’t budge until she started talking.
“Ah ain’t even got a right t’ be so upset, Mac,” she started. “Pinkie Pie found out she’s got diabetes an’ has t’ change her whole lifestyle! An’ Ah’m jus’ makin’ a big deal o’ not bein’ able t’ say th’ right words.”
The large stallion fixed his hooded gaze on his sister, one eyebrow raised in a question Applejack understood perfectly.
“Ah told her ev’rything was gonna be fine,” she spat. “Ah promised her she wouldn’t die.” She raised her eyes to meet her brother’s, and felt the tears brimming, ready to fall. “But how c’n Ah promise somethin’ like that? Ah have no idea if’n ev’rythin’s gonna be anywhere near fine! It ain’t the truth, it’s jus’ wishful thinkin’ an’ my Element won’t let me forget it.”
If the Voice had had a head and face, she imagined it would be smiling with smug pride at her statement.
Big Mac sat still - even more so than usual - his face displaying the slight frown of a pony deep in thought, with the slightest touch of melancholy in his eyes. He remained silent for several of his deep, slow breaths.
“Y’all remember when Pa got sick?” He asked, his voice at once rough and soft.
Applejack looked up, confused. “How could Ah forget?”
The bittersweet shadow of a smile on her brother’s face brought the memories rushing back: Big Mac holding her close as she wept into his big, red chest as Apple Bloom the foal cried in Granny’s forelegs, Pa hooked up to all the awful machines in the cold hospital, the painful-sounding word cirrhosis, the long and painful day that marked his death.
“Y’all were heartbroken,” he said as he stared up into the green canopy. “Pa was your biggest hero, an’ all of a sudden he was knockin’ on th’ gate t’ The Great Pasture.” He returned his gaze to the wide green eyes of his sister, a souvenir both of them carried from their Pa. “D’you remember what you asked me? Th’ night afore he passed?”
The orange mare flinched, partly because she was surprised to be put on the spot. The other part was because she did remember.
“‘Pa’s gonna be OK, right Mac?’’ She hated how her voice sounded so thin and afraid even now, years after the fact.
“An’ Ah said ‘Don’ you worry, little sis. Ain’t nothin’ our Pa cain’t handle. He’s strong, an’ we’re strong. Ev’rythin’ll be jus’ fine.’” His face remained stoic as ever, but Applejack could just make out the glimmer of moisture in his eyes. “Ah may not have told y’all th’ honest truth, but Ah sure believed in mah heart that Pa would come through for us like always.”
Applejack’s tears finally escaped the confines of her eyelids, and she heard a small sniffle that she suddenly realized must have come from her own muzzle.
Big Mac fixed her with a kind look. “It ain’t a lie that Ah told you then or a lie that you told Pinkie t’day. It ain’t nothin’ but hope. An’ sometimes that’s more powerful an’ important’n plain ol’ honesty.”
“You’ve got a very smart brother,” the Voice whispered with respect and awe.
Applejack choked back a small chuckle at the Voice's remark and smiled up at her brother. This was the lightest she'd felt all day.
"Thanks, Mac," she said quietly. "Reckon since Ah went an' sprained mah hoof, Ah've got somepony t' visit."
Her brother smiled back. "Eeyup!"
On her return trip to Sugar Cube Corner, Applejack stopped by the library briefly.
“Hi, Applejack,” Spike greeted her as he opened the door. He gestured for her to enter. “What can I do for you?”
“Is Twilight around?” The farmpony looked around for the librarian-turned-princess in her usual study corner. “Ah have somethin’ Ah need t’ get from her.”
Spike’s brow wrinkled. “She’s giving a guest lesson for Cheerilee at the Schoolhouse. Can I help you find it?”
“No need,” Applejack replied, having just spotted the purple bound tome with a bejeweled horseshoe on the front. “Ah love how she always leaves the important books out in plain sight,” she said with a chuckle.
“I feel like someday that may come back to bite her,” Spike mused, shaking his head.
“Ah gotta get goin’, but will you let ‘er know it ain’t been stolen an’ Ah’ll give it back soon’s Ah’m finished with it?”
The small dragon gave her a well-rehearsed salute. “Consider it done!”
“Thanks, Spike.” She waved a hoof as she turned to exit the library tree. “Ah’ll see you around!”
“Bye, AJ!”
The farmpony made her way through town the second time that day, albeit at a much slower pace. She greeted ponies ruefully as they stared, aghast, at her slight limp and assured those who asked that she would be fine in a day or two.
Finally, she reached her destination. She swung the door to Sugar Cube Corner open, her face lighting up as she spotted two of her friends chatting together in a booth. Pinkie’s mane and tail weren’t at full curly capacity, but they had certainly improved since she’d left earlier this morning.
“Howdy, girls,” she said as she walked up to their table slowly.
“Applejack!” Fluttershy exclaimed, a hoof rushing up to her muzzle in distress. “What did you do to your hoof?!”
“Heh, that’s a bit of a long story,” the farmpony replied, blushing. “Ah had t’ come back t’ check on you, though, Pinkie. How’re you doin’?”
“Lots better now that I’ve talked to both you and Fluttershy!” She beamed up at Applejack. “You were right! I have good friends who can help me get through anything!”
“Glad t’ hear it!” The farmpony patted Pinkie on the back.
“Won’t you join us?” Fluttershy asked timidly.
“Ah got somethin’ t’ take care of real quick, but Ah’ll be with you lickety-split!” She began to make her way over to a quieter section of the shop. “Don’ give up mah seat, now!”
“We won’t!” Pinkie hollered back.
Applejack sat herself down, pulling the Friendship Journal and a pencil out of her saddlebags. She flipped to the next empty page and frowned momentarily, trying to collect her thoughts in a way she would feel good about preserving on paper. After a moment’s thought, she grinned with determination and picked up the pencil in her mouth.
It’s real easy to decide when to use the Elements of Harmony to zap bad guys with a rainbow of friendship. It’s also pretty easy to decide to be kind, loyal, honest, generous or cheerful by default. It’s a mite harder to figure out when not to use your element - or where it doesn’t do the most good.
Make no mistake, honesty is generally the best policy. It ain’t any good to go around lying to ponies just to make them feel better. But all the Elements are connected. Honesty without Kindness can be plain cruelty, and Kindness without Honesty is meaningless.
Applejack looked up at the yellow pegasus across the room, chatting with Pinkie, who finally seemed to be flagging and ready for some well-deserved sleep. She smiled, then glanced back down at the page.
In the end, it doesn’t have to take anything special to help a friend - no Elements, no flowery words and no magic solutions. Sometimes, it’s just enough to be there and to let them know you care.
“Come on, Applejack!” Pinkie called to her. “Rainbow Dash and Rarity just got here and they want to steal your seat!!”
Applejack chuckled softly as she closed the journal and stowed it back in her saddlebags. “Ah’m comin’, Pinkie!” She trotted over to join her friends, a big smile on her face.
Author's Note
Please let me know what you think in the comments. I'd love to hear what did or didn't work in this one, since I approached it a little differently than my other pieces. As always, thanks for reading!
