Author's Note
For those who don't know, the link provided will take you to the song that goes with the chapter. I unconditionally implore you to hear it while reading the chapter. The same goes for every other Chapter. Most, if not all, songs will have no lyrics to give the reader a sort of ambience.
I hope you enjoy this soon-to-be-painfully-long story.
Credit to the editing goes to a friend of mine who still has not made a FimFiction account that I can link him. As soon as he does I will properly tag him.
Bleed
[ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jMEEtwRiCsk ]
A cloudless, sunset covered sky extended over a vast and arid desert. Worn out rail tracks cut through the dry expanse, they rattled violently as a steam powered train crossed along it. The train was in a dilapidated state, its paint job marred by rust all around it. The desert wasn’t any better. The war-torn wastelands were covered in holes and craters, reminders of war’s destructive consequences. The train hurried along, six passenger wagons trailing behind. Through the dusty, old windows only colors could be seen. Three old leather seats were placed on each side of the cabin. Their yellow stuffing seemed to ooze out, right off the black fabric. Poles were bolted in place, in between and across the hallway for easier balance. The metal floor didn't settle straight, having clearly been stomped too many times. Chunks of rust circled around the nails that held the floor together. The ceiling kept its silver color, though, only now dull, having been covered by a thin layer of dust. In the top corners of the ceiling, old cobwebs filled the small, black speaker system installed for announcements. Cleanliness wasn’t a priority back then, not while the war raged on.
In the second wagon sat a young stallion. He was in the middle right-most seat, near the exit door. A grayish pink coat and a red mane, he wore a gray jacket that covered half his body and stretched midway to his forelegs. He had two stitches across his left cheek and his front mane covered the right side of his face. Closed eye-lids and a steady breathing, though he looked asleep, the truth was different. His ears twitched at every sound the train made, at every pony that moved around and even the occasional wind that would filter itself inside the wagon. All those noises mapped out his environment and furthermost, made it impossible to fall asleep. After an hour, his eyes slowly opened to survey the area.
They swayed to the left.
Still there...
His thoughts confirmed the brown coated, light brown maned, construction worker. He wore a yellow hard hat, the darker patches of fur from the heat, as well as the hard work and the signature "five-o-clock" shadow adorned his face. The stallion looked worn out, and about to pass out yet he hadn’t closed his eyes, during the whole trip. An impressive feat, considering it was a 2 hour trip from Manehattan to their destination.
His eyes slowly swayed to the right.
Closest to the back of the cabin, in the opposite row, sat a mare with a young colt sleeping next to her. The mare had a pink coat and a purple mane. The colt was pink furred like her, but he bore a cyan mane. A purple colored scarf covered the mare's neck and some bags thrown in front of her showed she had done some grocery shopping. She didn't look high class, but her mane was well-groomed and two simple yet elegant gold loop-earrings could classify her as mid-class. It was unusual, considering the war took a toll on all of Equestria, and all of us. But everypony strived for normality.
Centering his eyes, he took aim at the last pony he wanted to check. Straight ahead, a hobo was sleeping. A fly or two gathered around his empty bottle of beer, trying to salvage any sweet liquid left. A rustled mane and brownish stains around his fur, it was clear he hadn't taken a shower in a long time. He didn't seem to be bothered by the train's constant bumps and noises. The red maned stallion envied the hobo’s deep slumber. Apart from the ruckus from the train itself, the cabin was quiet the whole way.
-DING- The old speakers blared through the cabin. "Next stop, Ponyville". The Conductor's voice was hardly understood.
A huge sigh escaped the jacket-wearing stallion. His eyes suddenly felt weary.
Eight years... Memories of his long dead past resurfaced in his mind. He gritted his teeth and tension washed over him. He hated flashbacks. With tightened eyes, he tried erasing the movie playing out in his mind. It wasn't working. So he was temporarily flooded with emotions long since felt.
The brakes screeched loudly and slowly brought the train to a full stop, along with his memories. He shook his head and grabbed the bag underneath his seat. Everypony gathered their belongings and their materials, except for the sleeping bum. The red mane stallion stood up and silently waited for the door to open, with a blank stare through the small window. His body had second thoughts.
"No...It will not be over until I can see him again.
The sliding doors separated from each other and gave way to the wooden floor of the small station. His amble movement showed no excitement as he left the train. Once the doors closed, there was no turning back. He surveyed the area for any familiar faces, but found none. He immediately felt a tiny surge of relaxation.
...Good...
He stepped down the station and his momentary stress free thoughts washed away and were replaced with a slight terror. The Ponyville he remembered was destroyed. Not in its entirety but enough to call it a ghost town. Most of the houses were down to their floor tiles in a broken heap, both to his left and right. He walked towards the town still analyzing the situation before his eyes. Construction workers were heading towards the station, to rest for the day. Most of the town was still getting repaired, yet it seemed impossible to fix. As he kept trotting, he encountered something terrifying. An absurdly large crater bore itself deep into the ground.
So the rumors were true…a bomb.
The stallion froze in front of it and got lost in thought for a few seconds. He quickly trotted around it, as others did too. It was difficult to make out where he was. There had to be a point of reference, but the rubble didn’t help. Both of his eyes kept swaying to the right and to the left, but no luck, in fact, it seemed the town only got worse as he paced himself.
After a while he stumbled upon Sugarcube Corner, or rather, what was left of it. The right side of the building was gone. The ceiling tilted to the right due to the lack of any structure holding it up. Once again he gritted his teeth and headed towards, what he hoped to still be there, Sweet Apple Acres. The stallion had heard some news, but he didn't know how bad the situation was.
It was complete annihilation.
His destination point seemed a bit far but that didn’t hold the stallion back. He tried ignoring the seemingly never-ending destruction of the town. As he kept moving forward a small bar appeared. It was odd to see something as that in Ponyville. Though having that train of though was a bit absurd, considering eight years had passed since he walked his hometown. The bar had suffered some window damage but it seemed whole, unlike many buildings around it. A “Closed” sign hung from the door.
“Crusader.” he whispered to himself as he read the sign above the bar.
He ignored it for the time being. There was something far more important right now. He kept looking forward. The sun was almost set and a little speck appeared before him. At first he couldn’t tell what was it, and then he sighed in relief. Sweet Apple Acres was intact. It seemed the bombing only occurred in the town. Though he was glad the barn was still standing, a drop of sweat formed on top of his forehead. The town’s state was now behind him, yet he felt uneasy. The closer he got to the barn the heavier his hooves felt. The dirt trail seemed like quicksand to him. There were a few chirps from some birds, but even they fell silent as they heard the young stallion approach the barn. He started breathing irregularly. A few more steps and he could make out the front door of the barn. That made his body heavier, slouch even. He figured his body didn’t want to go back…
Back to his home.
The sun had set and he stood in front of the door for a few minutes. He could hear some distant chatter from inside but he was still gathering enough bravery to knock on the door. He wasn’t sure what he even needed to say. A perfect time for his mind to run blank, he thought. For a second, the stallion wanted to turn back and leave. He didn’t want to be flooded with memories. It was bad enough he survived the war with two scars to prove it, now he was going to start a new one. Not a physical war like the one he had participated in. This was going to be a psychological war. A war he knew he was not ready for. But he stopped himself and tried simple boosts of self-confidence.
Do it for him, do it for yourself.
It was time to explain everything, though he wasn’t sure his family wanted to hear him out. Yet if he didn’t, this whole trip would have been pointless. He raised his right hoof and hesitated for a second. He looked down to the floor and closed his eyes. Then he knocked three times. The chatter inside the barn ceased. An eerie silence took over the place.
“Coming.” A female voice said.
The male stallion suddenly opened his eyes. He recognized that voice.
Dear Twilight above…Why her…?
He lifted his gaze and stared at the door. He looked defiant but in reality, he was unsure of what to do. Fear froze his body and his limbs went numb. The shock of what was about to happen, had done more to his body than what he had originally estimated. The door rustled a bit, then it stopped.
“Who is it?” the female voice asked.
The stallion hesitated. Again, he had a clean slate. The only thing that left his mouth was a sigh.
“I swear Derpy, if this is one of yer pranks, I ain’t in the mood fo-” The voice trailed off as she opened the door and stared at the figure before her. Her mouth was still in mid-sentence and her eyes did not budge. She was frozen, just like the stallion. For the mare, it was like staring at a ghost. They stood quiet, facing each other. The lack of noise made the air dense and there wasn’t much he could stand so the stallion took the word, with a very dry voice. “Hello Aunt Appleja-” A hoof slapped the young stallion right across his face. The smack scared some of the birds perched in the roof of the barn. Everything went horridly silent again.He moved his jaw and stared at the mare once more. He knew that was coming and prayed that that was the only thing she would do. The stallion stared at Applejack. She was breathing harshly and her eyes welled up. Rage filled her face. By this point the stallion was at the mercy of this infuriated Applejack. But what she said next, took him completely off guard.
“…Why…?” She simply asked. A tear moved across her cheek. Her hat was covering her eyes so the only thing visible was the sad shine of her tear. He did not respond. Not because he couldn’t talk but because he very well knew she wasn’t done talking.
“…Why…Why…Why…” she continued on, moving her head sideways. Her voice grew more and more painful. Suddenly she stopped, and lifted her eyes to his. Her gaze was hollow. Applejack looked like the town he had walked across. Destroyed…Empty. “Why do you keep tormenting us?” her voice had turned to acid by this point.
That stung in his heart, but he kept his neutral expression and opened his mouth just to close it again. What am I supposed to say? He was getting annoyed by his inability to do something about the situation.
From behind Applejack a figure moved. It was another mare. “Sister, what’s wrong? Who’s there?” She then gasped loudly. The stallion jolted a bit, and this was enough for him to move his head to the direction of his other aunt. He tried to smile at her.
“Hello, Aunt Applebloom.” His dry voice filled the entrance. She was also frozen in place. It seemed the inability to move was spreading like a contagious disease across the barn. Applejack then blocked his view, to get his attention. She looked stiff as a board, emphasizing the seriousness of the situation. “What are you doing here?” She acridly asked. The stallion chose his words carefully and tried to be as direct as possible “I came here…To apologi-…”
“YOU’RE EIGHT YEARS TOO LATE, MACE!” Applejack growled back. He stepped a few centimeters away from his aunt. More tears left her eyes. She wobbled a bit and sat on her flank. Applejack seemed to deflate, the more the seconds passed. She then stared at the floor and started sobbing. “Eight years…Too late...”
Mace knew he couldn’t return all those years. But he couldn’t just leave Applejack to slowly suffer alone. Slowly but surely, he felt less numb and approached her. He also sat on his flank and wrapped his forehooves around her and fell silent. Mace wasn’t good at handling these kinds of situations. But he definitely felt he needed to do this type of physical contact. She jolted a bit, because of the embrace but instead of pushing him aside, Applejack broke to a river. He held her tight and she continued, crying excessively. Applebloom who witnessed everything also approached them. This type of delicate moment included her as well so she didn’t falter to embrace them both. Mace looked up at her and noticed tears running across both of her cheeks, with the exception of a small, but kind smile on her mouth. Mace’s eyes started to tear up as well. The three ponies embraced each other for what felt like years. All of them moved apart from each other. Applejack stood up and signaled Mace inside the house, he followed.
“He’s upstairs.” She said closing the door, not even bothering to look at him. Even though they just shared this moment, Applejack made sure to Mace she was far from forgiving him.
Mace nodded mind-absently. The interior hadn’t changed a bit. The dining room was still at the end of the room and the staircase leading to everypony’s room was just to his right. Mace didn’t focus on his former home’s changes. Instead he directed his view to the staircase.
Here we go.
He galloped through the stairs and reached the hallway where all the rooms were. Many of the doors were closed except for the last one at the end of the corridor. A fade light came for the inside. Mace hastily approached the room where he suspected the pony he wanted to see, was. The door creaked as he fully opened it. Inside, was a red stallion facing away from the door on a rocking chair. Mace closed the door behind him just to make sure nopony could interfere. Not that he hated his family but this was something that required only two ponies, himself and the red furred stallion that sat across the room. Though the room was quite small, the interior made it look cozy. It had four windows, two in the center wall and one on both left and right walls. A bed with a wooden frame was at the far right of the room, with a matching night stand right next to it and on top of said night stand, laid a single bed lamp providing the only source of light in the room. The rocking chair was arranged next to the window farthest from the bed, so it could have a full view of the back yard. The creak of the rocking chair echoed through the room.
“Hello…” The red stallion said.
Mace hesitated at the sound of his voice. Mustering enough courage to speak up, he took hoof forward and shakily took a deep breath. The quiver of his lips didn’t help, but that didn’t stop him from greeting the stallion.
“Hello…Father…” Mace’s voice faltered at the end. The rocking chair stopped and the Stallion turned around and simply chuckled. An eye patch covered his left eye. The years really seemed to have fallen over him. Many wrinkles covered his face and his mane was thinning. And yet Big Mac smiled, recognizing his own son. All of the energy escaped Mace’s body and he was ready to collapse. One thing they didn't teach military personnel was how to deal with post-conflict emotional stress and Mace’s psyche was already hindered by the moment he shared with his aunts downstairs.
“I’m home.” Mace held back a sob.
“Eeyup. Welcome back…my son.” He responded.
Mace’s vision blurred as the tears fled from his eyes. He trotted to his father’s side and held him tight, like a young colt would hold their parents when they would get lost. Both Mace and Big Mac sobbed for a long period of time. Last time they had seen each other, it was eight years ago, but they kept communicating through mail. That was until the war broke out 5 months ago. The letters never delivered on both sides and somewhere inside their heads laid a horrendous thought. That neither would have this chance again.The room slowly but surely fell silent. They broke from their moment and Big Mac stood shakily. Mace was not as tall as his father but the resemblance was impeccable. Big Mac signaled Mace to go down the house with him. Big Mac was never one to talk much, but his emotions did that part for him. This was true for Mace as well. They slowly descended the stairs and approached the table where Applejack and Applebloom were sitting at, drinking coffee. There were another two cups already placed at the table. Applejack stared at her cup, collecting her thoughts. Applebloom on the other hoof looked at their direction and smiled once more. For her it was like looking at the final curtain fall of a long and painful play, and realizing the happy ending did arrive.
Applebloom was a full grown mare now. She outgrew her pink ribbon and instead wore a hat much like Applejack’s. No wrinkles on her face but she looked stern, seemingly a trademark of the Apple Family due to all of the hard work on the field. On the other hoof, Applejack looked tired from what seemed like months of hard work. She had wrinkles around her forehead and there were shades of black under her eyes. For a second, Mace thought she was older than Big Mac. Mace assumed the war, could have brought his Aunt to what seemed to be an age acceleration process. But her image was too deteriorated to blame the war alone. To add to her account, Mace’s visit seemed to make it worse. As selfish as it might be, the young stallion didn’t regret either his leave… or his return. The decision to leave had crushed his family but he had a goal to complete and he did…at least…partially. He sat down next to Big Mac while his aunts sat across the table. Mace hadn’t sat down with his family in such a long time that, it seemed to be a memory of another life. A life where he could smile, a life he could enjoy…a life where he still had his mother…
“Ya’ll satisfied now Mace…?” Applejack abruptly woke Mace from his train thought. He blinked twice and faced Applejack. Her gaze was firmly on the cup of coffee in front of her. Her forehooves made no movements. Mace stared at Applejack and safely concluded he was not at all welcome. The air itself became dense as the inevitable fight approached.
If there was anyone from the family that disliked Mace’s decision, that was Applejack. Mace recalled the stressful memory. Mace was well aware of his Aunt’s position in the matter, but he carried on with what he wanted to do. The decision to join the military at such a young age was his own, not hers. But she resented him for it, believing his thoughts were incredibly self-centered and naïve. Mace took the word but he knew there was no defusing Applejack. Anything he would say was just going to be thrown out the window as she was “right” and he was “wrong”. It was always this way. Mace just didn’t want to follow her one-sided discussion and chose to point it out.
“Answering that won’t change things. Being satisfied has nothing to do with what’s happening now… I’m back home…and I’m glad to be.”
Applejack was still focused on her cup throughout all of this. She merely scoffed, left the drink on the table and trotted to the door. Applebloom and Big Mac remained quiet and followed Applejack’s habit of boring mental holes on their cups. They both saw this happen many and many times over in the past. If any of them would speak up, the battle would turn against them. If they yelled at Applejack for talking to him like that, Mace would think they took his side. On the opposite side, if they told Mace to stop, Applejack would climb on it and conclude they were on her side. When it came to the feud between the two, staying quiet and letting them resolve on their own was the best strategy. Right when she was about to leave she looked over her shoulder. “The only good thing you brought to this family was Big Mac’s smile. Other than that, you’re just an incompetent little-“she never finished her sentence as the front door was slammed behind her. Big Mac sighed at the event.
A moment of silence passed before Applebloom took the word. Her voice was way more tranquil than Applejack’s. “I’m really glad you came back alive. I would hate to lose another member of the family.” Her voice cracked a bit, thinking of the many events that unfolded the last few years. When she regained her composure Applebloom looked directly at Mace’s eyes. “We’ve needed more hooves around the barn and the town too, since the bombin’ and such.” She circled her hoof around the edge of the cup. It was a delicate theme to talk about and Applebloom found herself desperately wanting to change the topic. She took another sip while Big Mac cleared his throat to speak. He stared at his son with his only working eye. For a stallion of his age, Big Mac was still pretty intimidating when he stared at ponies. “Ya’ll here to stay now, right?” Big Mac spoke in his monotone voice but there was a hint of authority behind it.
“I truly hope so.” Mace stared at the front door, where Applejack had disappeared from. Mace didn’t desire to go against his father’s wishes but things with Applejack were a bit volatile. Applebloom wanted to idly chat, but gave up the effort and kept sipping at the remainders of her hot beverage. The others followed on her example. After their cups got empty Applebloom took care of them and placed them on the sink. Big Mac stood from his chair and directed his voice to Mace. “Tomorrow we’ll start working, I hope ya’ll don’t mind” Big Mac apologized to Mace for the short notice work reveal. Mace had no objections to that. He wanted to get back on where he left off, to mend for the amount of work he hadn’t done in the barn for all those years. He wanted his family again; Applejack included. He figured it was a good way to start.
Mace was still carrying his bag around lightheartedly, but this talk about getting some rest made it heavier and hasted to his old room. At least he hoped it was still a room. His family always did have a knack to make any unoccupied space into a storage room. In some of the extreme cases, they would prefer to destroy and rebuild something, rather than just fixing a few spots. Mace chuckled a bit and slowly opened the wooden door. His thoughts weren’t far from the truth. The room had a few old kitchen items stored on the corners. They seemed to be for spare parts. He focused on his old bed, still with the sheets he left it with. He closed the gap, left his bag on the side and collapsed on the bed. After a few blinks Mace noticed a problem.
His back legs hanged from the bed frame.
In comparison with the places he had slept during the crisis, this was bliss in its purest form. Ignoring the fact he had outgrown his bed, Mace reached for his bag to open its content.
A newspaper, a gold medallion, a short combat knife and a photo lay scattered inside the bag. He only picked up the photograph and fell to the bed again. Mace stared at the picture for quite a while. His mind had a million thoughts but he started dismissing them. Exhaustion from the earlier events had made him tired and worrying about incoming future events was unimportant. Mace’s eyes slowly shut themselves. But his hooves grasped the photo tightly to his chest.
“If this was a battlefield…I would have died…” He whispered to the photo, as always. It was a way for him to cope with his personal problems and only did it when he was completely alone.
“But I’m home mom…I did it…” Mace sighed, concluding his day and fell in a deep slumber.
The photograph was still in his hoof but his hoof had moved next to him, revealing the photograph. Big Mac and Mace were in the photo. Mace was a young colt and behind him, next to Big Mac, was a mare with blue eyes. She was making odd expressions with her face. Mace was also doing the same and Big Mac just stood there smiling. Happiness basically poured out from the photo. The only peculiar thing about the picture was the green alligator on top of the mare’s pink, fluffy mane.
