Seeds of Lifeby FreglzChaptersMeHimUsMeIt was August when I found out about you. Spent a whole ten minutes just staring at the thing: two lines on a tiny, little screen. Positive. It didn’t seem real. It didn’t feel real. How could it be? I kept waiting for something to happen — for the noise outside to dip, or the edges of my vision to blur and the world fade to nothingness. For me to snap out of whatever stupor I was in and actually focus on what was happening. Or what wasn’t happening. I felt hollow. Frail. Cold in the chest and light in the head. Exposed and vulnerable. Isolated, lost, lonely. Everything and nothing; a numbness that made my teeth chatter and hooves weak and simply made me wish I’d never been born. I was scared. Of course I’d been scared before. I was scared when I saw pigs for the first time and thought they’d eat me. When I helped mend the roof and thought I’d fall. When I first used a pitchfork to sort out the straw and thought I’d stab somepony. When I got turned around in the Everfree and thought I’d never find my way home. When Ma and Pa… …When they passed. Even nowadays, when I go on adventures with Twilight and Co, I get scared. I’m scared I’ll get hurt, or we’ll lose… or what my family will do without me if I don’t come back. Heavens forbid, if anything I face somehow manages to threaten you… But you weren’t around just yet. Not really. And this was a different kind of scared. This was a feeling that ate away at me from the core, like a disease. It paralysed me. I didn’t know what to make of it or what to do, so I kept on staring, hoping something would change. But nothing did. Everything stayed exactly as it was, and the chatter outside wasn’t dying down anytime soon — it was only midday, after all, and nopony, neither stranger nor clan member, could ever refuse a meal hosted by Granny. I can’t imagine what she’d have done if she knew. But for the longest time, I was stuck there on the toilet. Not even thinking, just… existing. Wondering what in the world I was supposed to do next. Ma couldn’t help me, neither could Pa, and I’m not sure either would’ve wanted to if they could’ve. Not if they knew the whole truth. Because family meant a lot to them, and it means a lot to us too, but some bonds… can’t weather every storm. This storm, I think, was one of them. I needed help, though. I needed somepony to guide me, or at least share the load with, and the only pony I could talk to was downstairs. Which meant I had to wake up and actually do something. So, I did. Somehow, I found the mind and strength to slide off. I stumbled a bit, quite dizzy and still a little weak in the knees, almost knocking my head against the sink. That was a scary thought, I remember; if somepony busted down the door to make sure I’m okay, they’d find me unconscious and the stick on the floor. The whole family would’ve known then, and they’d be asking all sorts of questions — questions I had neither the answers for nor the nerves to face. But after I recovered, I steadied myself against the bathroom counter, and while I was there, I spied myself in the mirror. I looked a mess. Not entirely, but… I saw something in my eyes I ain’t never seen before or since. I looked haunted. Barely alive. Pupils down to pinpricks and everything. Like I’d ran a hundred miles and found a thousand more ahead of me. Didn’t feel much better either. But I never felt sick. That was the strange part. Not once in that whole doggone ordeal did I feel the urge to lean over either of those bowls or duck behind the homestead and hurl my guts out. In a way, I suppose that disturbed me more than the news itself, but then, I’d always been the resilient type. You kind of have to be, labouring away on a farm like this. I guess that’s why the Pies are so stoic; we work with timber, they work with rocks. In that moment, though, seeing my reflection, I felt like jelly. I couldn’t do this. Who was I kidding? Maybe it’d be better if I just kept my mouth shut and somehow dealt with it myself. But I knew I’d grow distant and quiet if I did that, and ponies would get suspicious if I stopped talking back and avoiding them where I could. I was a horrible liar, anyway — still am — so it’d only be a matter of time before I’d slip up and have to come clean. It wouldn’t be pleasant, not in the slightest, but if I wanted to maintain my sanity, I had to get a move on. Granny expected me out in the crowd, mingling, familiarising myself with the rest of the clan, and them with me. It was the first reunion without Ma and Pa, after all, and they wanted to know what kind of children we were raised to be. I had to smile and nod and say please and thank you, but there was no way I’d be keeping up appearances without somepony knowing the stress I was under. So, I grit my teeth, combed my mane back a little, breathed deeply, then pulled away from the sink and headed for the door. There was nopony in the hallway, thankfully, or they’d have seen me look left and right like I was crossing the street in Manehattan. That made sense, though, because outside was where everything was happening — food, drink, games, company… everything I didn’t really need right then and there. What I needed was seclusion, preferably with a few mugs of hard cider, even if I wasn’t old enough to have it legally at the time. Not that I was in a position to argue the legality of certain things. What came to mind first was disposing of the evidence. I know that makes me sound criminal, but I don’t think anypony would really fault me for it either. Trying to keep something hidden from so many prying eyes would’ve been next to impossible, and I hadn’t started wearing my hats at that point. So, without wasting time, I trotted down the hallway and ducked into my room, stowing the stick under my pillows for safekeeping. Better than leaving it in the trash for somepony to find, or digging a hole in the yard. With that sorted, I made my way downstairs. I wanted to be quick, to get there faster, but I also wanted to be careful, so I didn’t seem like I was in a rush, and so I wouldn’t trip up. And going down that staircase, I was afraid I’d do that; each hoofstep was harder and heavier than the last. I swear I was sweating a little too, even though my fur was completely dry when I moved to wipe my forehead. Eventually, though, I made it. My nerves were rattled, and the closer I got to the exit, the more my heart pounded. I could smell freshly baked apple pies and fritters and everything else Granny had cooked wafting from the empty kitchen, and I closed my eyes for a moment to savour the scent, resting on the railing. It made me feel hungry. It wasn’t much, but a distraction was better than nothing for somepony in my situation. I don’t think anypony would’ve wanted to be, though, no way no how. But everything has to come to an end. The door opened not long after and in walked Granny, a bit younger than you’d ever remember seeing her — no wiry hairs sticking out from her buns and such, and a few less wrinkles. She was carrying an empty platter, heading for the kitchen to restock, but stopped when she saw me. “Something wrong, dearie?” I blinked once or twice, then shook my head. “Nothing, Granny, just… more kin than I recall.” She paused for a moment, then slowly nodded and lowered her gaze. “And two less…” I didn’t need to hear that. It’d only been, what, two weeks or so? The wounds were still fresh — still hurt — and now I had Granny reminding me what we lost. And in a way, how you began. “Go on,” she said, “find your brother. Knowing how talkative he is, I’m sure he’s doing just fine on his own out there.” That was sarcasm. She always had that dry wit about her, and she still wasn’t too happy regarding that stunt we pulled with her and Filthy Rich and the hospital and whatnot. Couldn’t blame her then, can’t now either. All I wanted to do right then and there was get out and make sure she didn’t see how hard my tail was clamped against my rear. And I know that’s uncouth of me to say, but you have to understand, calling this whole thing an awkward situation puts it mildly. As soon as she started off for the kitchen again, I trotted for the door and peered through the window. There were easily a hundred ponies outside, probably more — the biggest gathering to date, I swear, but that might just have been how it looked to me at the time. Definitely one of the largest reunions, that much I’m certain of. But there wasn’t much use in gawking, so after collecting what few thoughts and nerves I could, I slunk back, put a hoof on the handle, took a deep breath in… then out… then in… then out… and pulled. Tables and blankets stocked with all kinds of foods welcomed me, occupied by faces familiar and not, and some I’ve never seen since. They laughed, they talked, they cheered, they ate, and fillies and colts darted all over the place. I never really noticed up until that point how many children the clan could boast —twenty, thirty… heck, maybe even fifty. Too many, it seemed. Like the world were somehow playing a cruel joke on me. It made me want to run away. Slam the door shut, dash back up the stairs, pull the blanket off my bed and hide in the corner where nopony could see me cry. If they came with questions, I’d have given no answers. And the first chance I got, I’d have pack my things and left for Celestia knew where — anywhere but here. But that wouldn’t have solved anything. Instead of my current problems, I’d have faced new ones. And more than that, there was one constant I couldn’t simply run away from. You. Practically speaking, I only had one option, and that was to find the one pony I could talk to — the one pony who might’ve, might’ve understood. So, that’s what I did. Against every fibre of my being screaming for me to do anything but, I stepped outside. And nothing changed. Nopony noticed me, no scornful glares were cast. Maybe somepony did, but were too polite to kick up a fuss about it, but for all intents and purposes, I was just another young mare in the crowd. So long as I kept my head down and face straight, I could do this. That’s what I told myself, at least. Whether I believed it was another matter entirely. I trundled slowly onward, trying as best I could to keep my hooves steady while I cautiously scanned all around me. Anypony whose gaze I met, I forced myself to give them an anxious smile. I hoped showing them some semblance of confidence would get them thinking I was more nervous of the reunion than I was about what they might find out. It seemed like the right move to make at the time, despite myself, and for the most part, it worked. Uncle Mosely had other ideas. “Applejack!” he hollered from his family’s table. “Long time no see!” Indeed it was. I hadn’t seen the Oranges since I left them for Ponyville again. I’d always meant to check in with them, see how things were going, and if I’d upset them after changing my mind so suddenly, but right then wasn’t the time. So, I pretended I hadn’t heard him. “Applejack!” he called again, then slid out from his bench and trotted toward me and hugged me from behind. “It’s been so long, baby girl. How’ve you been?” …Okay, I was wrong; that part made me feel a little sick. But I couldn’t pull myself out of the hug to get some breathing space, so I faked a flattered chuckle and continued glancing about. “Great, Mosely, just… just great.” He must’ve been a bit tipsy, because nopony can hear a lie of mine and keep a straight face. He only squeezed me tighter. “That’s wonderful, sweet pea. And please, accept my apologies for not being there at the funeral.” That was on his mind too, I guess. But saying that only made his embrace feel hollow. I was sure he meant well, and I still think so, but ain’t like anypony could’ve turned back the clock. And in that moment, I definitely would’ve, so long as it meant getting away from him. Heck, if it meant bringing back Ma and Pa… But that’s not something you need to hear. Not long after he said that, I caught sight of Big Mac hauling two open crates of bottled cranberry cider on his back — a gift from family down in Appleoosa who couldn’t make it. He was making rounds, offering them to anypony who wanted. Right then, I needed him. “Thanks, Mosely,” I said, somehow yanking myself free from his grip, “Really, thanks, but I have to do something real quick.” “Oh, sure,” he replied, as if I hadn’t brushed him off, or it wasn’t that big a deal. “We’ll talk more later, okay?” I didn’t give him an answer. Either I didn’t plan to or I didn’t have one — I can’t remember. All I remember doing after that was marching at a brisk pace for Mac, avoiding ponies left, right and centre, somehow worried if they’d know what I knew if they touched me. More likely they’d have wanted to strike up a conversation, and I think I heard my name tossed around a few more times, but I wasn’t having any of it. I couldn’t afford to. I was already at wits’ end. My breathing was stuttered and my body felt naked and fragile, as if I had no fur or hair to protect me from the wind, and the smallest tap would make me shatter into a snivelling, quivering mess. At one point, it was like ants were crawling up my skin, up my spine. Those were the longest couple dozen yards of my entire life. But somehow, eventually, I navigated my way through the herd and came up behind him, where I could finally breathe a small, restrained sigh of relief. All I had left to do was tear him away from Mandarin Orange, who was blathering on about how business was booming on the west coast. Ponies just love citrus over there, she claimed. No useful information, just harmless boasting. Mac was taking it all in with a few good-natured nods. It was hard to tell if he was actually listening. But he had to listen to me. “Uh… excuse me, Ms. Mandarin?” I called, but it came out feeble and choked, so I tried again. “Ms. Mandarin, ma’am?” They both looked at me. Even though I knew they didn’t mean it, their gaze was cold and cutting like ice to the heart, and I took a step back. For all I cared, it may as well have been the whole clan who turned their attention on me. “Why, if it isn’t Applejack!” she declared, as if I were the hidden treasure in one of Rainbow’s Daring Do books. But then her expression changed. “Is something wrong, dear? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” In all honesty, I wish I had. That way, I could’ve told the truth and used it to distract her. “No, no, nothing you need to worry about,” I gracelessly dismissed, waving a hoof. “I just… need to borrow my brother for a minute. There’s something he needs to hear.” She quirked an eyebrow. “What kind of something?” I hesitated for a moment, wondering if I’d heard a suspicious undertone. Maybe she already knew, somehow. Maybe Mac had let something slip, even if he hardly talked anymore. It felt like my throat had seized up, and for that split second, I was afraid I’d never be able to speak again. But then I glanced at him and saw nothing but innocent curiosity and a hint of concern. He wouldn’t have said anything. He didn’t know. And if he didn’t know, she couldn’t possibly either. Only I knew. For the time being, I was safe. I switched back to Mandarin with a newfound sense of determination, but I didn’t show it. Not outwardly. “A sisterly something,” I said. If I tried to sound touchy I can’t remember. If I did, I failed. “Oh, of course, dear, don’t mind me.” She giggled to herself. “There I go again, poking my nose in other ponies’ business. I’ll be over minding the kids if either of you need me.” Kids. Everywhere, kids. The universe couldn’t get enough out of twisting the nail that day. I could only be glad she turned away before I did, or I’m sure her nosiness would’ve made it even harder for me to worm my way out of there. But as she walked away, blending into the crowd and noise and commotion, I looked to Big Mac. He was already looking at me, and probably had been since I last checked. But he didn’t seem to judge, or too deeply troubled. I always liked that about him. Where I fussed and fretted, he was the voice of reason, and he’s only gotten better with age. But whether he could handle what I needed to get off my chest was yet to be seen. Without a word, I gestured for him to follow me to the barn, and after a brief moment’s pause, he fell in line a little ways behind. Nopony saw us go, I don’t think, and if they did, I’m pretty sure they’d have thought he was just helping me with some supplies and such. Doesn’t take a wild imagination to think of any reason a brother and a sister might want some privacy for. We strolled through the open doors, only slightly ajar, and I quietly shut the way behind us. It was dim inside, even with the hatches uncovered, and it smelled of dirt, dust, wood and fodder. Straw covered the floor, strung up in bales, hay heaped in piles in the corners and the second storey… I stood perfectly still, peering through the dark, listening carefully, trying as much as I could to filter out the hustle and bustle beyond the walls. Nothing. But I had to be extra sure, so motioned for Mac to stay and began to prowl. I stalked the stalls, searching for any foals who thought it’d be fun to play hide and seek while eavesdropping on other ponies’ conversations. I know I did when I was younger. Heard my fair share of embarrassing confessions, which I then blurted out to those concerned, because being honest was good, and it was fun to see what happened next. But what I had to share was more than a crush, or whichever side of the aisle somepony leaned, and it couldn’t be allowed under any circumstance to be heard by such young ears. With the ground level cleared, I climbed the ladder and checked the piles of hay and extra equipment up there. Still nothing. And with that, my nerves were at least somewhat settled. I was still jittery, of course, but I felt a little more free to do so — to shake and shiver — and not have anypony ask me about it. Except for the one pony who needed to know why. I returned to the floor, where Mac was already strolling for the centre of the barn and the few bales resting there. The soft chime of glass bottles and hooves on packed earth and pebbles were the only sound coming from inside. If the reunion hadn’t been going on, I’m sure I’d have heard my heartbeat as well. It was that quiet, where we were, and the air felt thick and heavy, but dry. Uninviting. Unpleasant. But I’d come too far to turn back. Macintosh was waiting for me. And if I left, the only option was to face the throng outside, where I’d have surely broken down. So, letting myself tremble on whichever step I needed to, I slowly made my way toward him. My head was slumped, my pace reluctant, my ears pinned back and tail clamped, and after my plodding walk of shame was over, I hopped up and sat on the bale opposite his. And he was kind enough, as always, to give me whatever time I needed. And how I needed it. I must’ve sat there for… I don’t know how long. Just staring at my hooves. Building what little courage I could. Toying with my mane and biting my lip. Gently rocking back and forth. I was wasting time, I knew, because if someone came in wondering where we were, I’d have missed my chance, possibly for the whole event. And if I was fit to burst then, who knows what would’ve happened in even an hour’s time? I had to do it. I had to tell him. So, I did. I looked him in the eyes. I breathed deeply. And then I told him. I was pregnant. HimBig Macintosh said nothing for a long, long while. He stared at her, lips parting, eyes widening, ears angling back, a deep, cavernous hole opening up within him. What could he say, if not the obvious? “Are you sure?” Applejack held his gaze and nodded slowly. “Positive,” she answered. Her tone was shaky, but he could tell she was trying her best to sound resolute. “There’s a stick under the pillow in my bedroom. Ninety-nine percent accurate.” “Then you should try again, right? Take another and—” “That was the second. I flushed the first.” He sat frozen, a chill dancing through him. “It can’t be wrong, Mac. Not with odds like that.” He lowered his gaze and swallowed hard. His throat suddenly felt very, very dry, and there was a curdling in his stomach — the kind he got when he’d had one too many apples; even as a farmer himself, he had to admit there were limits. And right now, he’d have eaten the whole orchard if it meant getting out of… this. Not that he didn’t care for her, no — of course he did — but he was pretty sure she was almost thinking the exact same thing. “You haven’t, uh… been with any—” “I wish I had.” The words stung like the crack of a whip. They didn’t hurt his pride, because Celestia knew it was something neither of them were all that proud of, but they way she said it — so frank and straightforward… That’s what stung; she meant it, and she didn’t have any reservations about saying it. And the worst part was he couldn’t blame her. If there were another culprit, this would’ve still been an awkward and troubling situation, but it wouldn’t have been as upsetting. And that was putting it extremely mildly. Couple the outcome here with why they’d done it to begin with… He folded his forelegs and looked down at the dirt through the gloom, trying to keep his breathing calm and measured. She’d come all this way to tell him this, and she wouldn’t have risked telling him unless she felt she had to, especially with the reunion going on. She was normally so strong, but it seemed this was her breaking point. He had to be brave for her, in that case. If only he felt much braver himself. “But I thought…” he began, squinting, and then peered up at her. “Weren’t you…?” She lowered her focus to the ground, ears flattening against her head and hindlegs pulling in a little closer. Her weight shifted, no doubt making room for her tail. “Must’ve come into heat early,” she meekly said, hugging her stomach. “Explains why… why I encouraged you.” His brows creased. “AJ…” “I shouldn’t have.” She stiffly shook her head, eyes half-closed and distant. “It’s my fault. It wasn’t right and I knew it, but—” “AJ, it’s nopony’s…” He drifted off, realising what he was about to say wasn’t entirely accurate. He was the one who found her alone on the couch, crying. He was the one who sat down beside her and held her close. He was the one who told her everything would be okay and kissed her forehead. He was the one who didn’t resist when she kissed back. “…We’re both to blame.” “But I wanted it,” she snapped in anguish, peering up at him again. “You didn’t make the first move: I did. How could it be your fault if you just… sat there and took it?” Mac felt a sharp pang of guilt and returned his attention to the floor. They hadn’t talked about that night, immediately after or since, and if that’s the view she was taking, this talk was long overdue. And following a lengthy pause, he looked her in the eyes once more — emerald like his, but brighter. More lively. Even marred by worry, they were still beautiful. “Well,” he murmured uneasily, “maybe I wanted it too.” Applejack blinked, as if the concept were somehow foreign to her. Her hesitancy borrowed him time to gather his thoughts. He swallowed as he sat a little more upright, hoping to moisten his throat and mouth, then chewed his cheek as he glanced off to the side for a moment. “I didn’t… mean for it to reach that point, AJ. I just wanted to show you I’d always be there for you, even with Ma and Pa gone.” She remained silent, her expression unchanged. “But when you did the same…” Mac slowly, listlessly shrugged, caught on the memory. And as he did so, he found himself beginning to trace her physique. He quickly lowered his gaze to the dirt, ashamed. “I couldn’t help myself.” Still, Applejack said nothing. Perhaps she was realising what the conversation had shifted to, and was coming to terms with it. But then she took a short breath in and a heavy one out, blinking like she’d been awoken from some kind of trance, and looked away, lips pursed. Deep in thought. She wasn’t angry, or distraught, or anything of the sort. Just brooding. Figuring out what to say and the right way to say it. Mac waited. His teeth chattered faintly — anxiety building like steam in a teakettle. Nowhere near the point where he’d burst, but noticeable. “I don’t want to sound like I’m not in control of myself…” Applejack mumbled, shaking her head, “but something in me that night… broke, I guess.” “Eeyup,” Mac sombrely agreed. “I don’t know what it was.” She shrugged. “Grief? Hormones? Did I… not want to be alone that badly?” He nodded pensively. “Could be all three.” “But doesn’t that seem… wrong at all?” She returned to him with furrowed brows and parted lips, equal parts confused and disturbed. “I… we did… that… because we missed Ma and Pa, not even three days after they passed?” He licked his lips and gazed up at the wooden wall behind her in thought. “It does.” “But we did it anyway.” “We did.” Applejack paused for a long while, fixing him with a pleading look. “But why?” Mac blew a long, deep sigh. His throat was dry again. And after a few moments, he looked down to his left, reached over, and picked out a bottle of cranberry cider from the crate beside his bale. “You said it yourself,” he finally answered, popping the lid and taking a sip. “Grief, hormones, not wanting to be alone.” Her expression tightened as she shook her head once more. “That still doesn’t seem right.” “And when would it be?” She hesitated, before shrugging yet again. “I don’t know. Probably never.” As he waited for her to continue, Mac took a proper swig. It was sweet on the tongue, bubbly as it went down. Not strong enough for him to feel the effects from a single glass, but soothing all the same. Granny would’ve had a field day if she caught him drunk anyhow. “It wasn’t supposed to happen. Any of this.” Applejack’s gaze drifted right, growing distant, and Mac spied the subtle glint of tears forming. “But we…” “We needed it.” She returned to him, still a little lost, but at least she was present. “We needed each other.” She frowned to herself as she bit her lip. And then she shook her head for a third time, looking grimly at her stomach. “You can say that all you like, Mac, but… that doesn’t change what’s become of it.” “Doesn’t mean it’s not true,” he countered humourlessly, reaching for the crate once more and tossing her a bottle. She caught it just in time with a gasp and a wince. And when she settled down, she didn’t seem too appreciative, holding the bottle sideways between her forehooves and staring at the glass intently. What her intent was, though, he couldn’t tell. Maybe he’d been a bit too presumptuous. Maybe he shouldn’t have made that point. Maybe he should’ve known better and kept his mouth shut like he promised he would. And the longer the silence dragged on, the more unsure of himself he felt. He opened his mouth to say something. “We made a mistake.” And then he slowly closed it, letting her finish. “A big, dumb… fun mistake.” She broke into a small, mischievous, melancholy smirk, taking a guilty pleasure in savouring the memory. It was a cute look on her. But then the look faded to something less playful and she popped the top off and had a drink. “And look where it’s gotten us.” “Eeyup.” More silence followed, but it was the comfortable sort. One where they sipped and drank took everything in. What they now faced. What they could do. What it all meant. And in the background, the reunion continued as if nothing out of the ordinary were happening in the slightest. All that stood between them and the everypony else was a couple dozen yards and a few wooden planks. And if the two worlds clashed… There was enough ammunition here for the whole clan to walk away changed forever. “Guess there’s only one question left,” Applejack mused, watching as she swirled the cider about in her half-empty bottle. “What do we do now?” “Eeyup.” She peered up at him and cocked an eyebrow. “That’s your new catchphrase, is it?” Big Macintosh shrugged. Sighing softly, she looked away and shook her head to herself, slouching with her elbows on her knees. And then, with another deep breath, she returned to him. “So, what do you think?” Being put in the spotlight wasn’t unexpected — she looked to his advice often and this time was no different. Except it was; it involved him. And he couldn’t back out of this without running off to somewhere far, far away, where nopony knew his name. But he wasn’t doing that. Never mind the practicalities or lack thereof, or the strain on his moral character. He simply didn’t want to go. No way, no how. Applejack was here, Granny was here, his family was here. Whatever happened, he knew where he belonged. “I think it’s up to you.” She blinked, confused, drawing her head back slightly and sitting a little more upright. “You don’t want to have a say in it?” He shook his head and took another sip. “I messed up. That’s on me. But it’s your body, your choice. You do what you think’s best for you.” She paused again, angling her head inquisitively. “And if I decided… not to have it?” “Then you’d better do it safely,” he advised, even if part of him felt wrong for saying it so casually. “With professional help, of course. Either way, you’ll have to explain yourself to Granny sooner or later.” And in an instant, her newfound strength failed and she sagged. “Can’t believe I almost forgot about her,” she groaned, covering her face with a foreleg and dragging it down. “Sweet Celestia, what am I going to say?” “You fooled around, like ponies our age usually do?” She flashed him a warning glare. “Hey, you wanted suggestions.” “Well, you don’t need to sound so flippant about it.” He cocked an eyebrow. “And what you prefer I sound like?” She rolled her eyes in exasperation. “I don’t know, concerned?” “Never said I wasn’t.” He finished off his cider with a short, final swig, and after making sure there was nothing besides the tiny droplets always leftover, he set the bottle at his hooves. “But fretting over it ain’t going to do nopony any good, us least of all. Especially you.” “Damn it, Mac, can’t you be a little less stoic for once?” He lightly shook his head with a sympathetic grin. “You know I can’t, AJ. Not while you’re like this. Not when you need somepony to talk to.” Applejack held his gaze for a long moment, then cast it down and hugged herself tighter, slouching forward. She stayed like that for a while, gently rocking, silently staring, brows creased as she chewed her cheeks and swung her hindlegs. And then she shook her head. “I’m scared, Mac.” “Me too.” He nodded and sighed. “Me too.” “And if there’s one thing I know for certain, it’s we’re never doing that again.” His ear twitched, and a mischievous smirk of his own tugged at his mouth. “Well…” Another glare shot his way. And then the smirk was gone. “Of course not,” he assured, a small, understanding smile taking its place. “Never again.” “Good,” she huffed, and after a brief pause to make the point stuck, she turned away from him once more. “Sorry, I’m just… not in a joking mood right now.” “Fair enough.” He nodded soberly and understandingly yet again. “Between us, you definitely have the short end of the stick. No doubt about that.” Applejack downed the rest of her cider as well. “Nope.” “Can’t say I envy you.” “I can,” she said impassively, watching as she swirled the empty bottle around in the loose grip of her fetlock. “First time in my life I’ve found myself wondering what it’s like to be a boy.” “I bet there’s a spell for that.” She snorted and smirked despite herself. “Yeah. There’ll be a spell for everything soon enough. Except the things that count.” Mac’s smile fell. “Applejack…” “I know, I know, there’s no use fretting,” she waved him off and sighed, “I just wish things had been different. That we saw more of them. Did more with them. Not got angry at them when we were in the wrong. That we…” Big Mac waited. “…That we were there for them when it mattered.” “We were.” She looked up at him. “We always were.” He gave a slow, solemn shrug. “And they were there for us.” “Then why doesn’t it feel like enough?” He paused for a moment, then let out a quiet sigh and sagged. “Maybe it never does.” Another silence. Long and heavy. The air was thick with an invisible fog. They’d reached an impasse, where all they needed to say had been said, and pretty much anything from that point on would be redundant. They’d be treading old ground, finding fears they’d already put to rest. And yet, they didn’t leave. They didn’t want to face the music — the reality. Perhaps if they simply stayed here, everything would be fine. Perhaps nopony would find them, and the world outside would function as normal, never sparing them a second thought. It was a pleasant fantasy, but it wasn’t meant to be. Things had happened, things were going to happen. It was time to face them head-on. “Whatever you choose, AJ, I’ll be there for you.” Big Mac returned to her and watched her soberly. He didn’t smile, he didn’t pout, but he wasn’t expressionless either; he was encouraging. “Always have, always will be. That’s what brothers do.” “That’s what fathers do too.” His breath caught in the back of his throat, but he forced the small sense of panic down and refused to let it show. Instead, he slid off, slowly strolled forward, and sat down in front of her. And then he hugged her close, head over her shoulder, hers over his, and he closed his eyes and relished the scent of her mane. “It’s what families do.” Another long moment of stillness reigned, and then Applejack nuzzled into his neck and wrapped her forelegs under his, linking them behind his back. Silence again, and their world was at peace, neither wanting to leave the warmth and embrace of the other. But it couldn’t last forever. There was one question left; one final obstacle they had to overcome. So, with a heavy heart and a tender squeeze, Big Mac broke the spell. “What’re you going to do?” UsIt was April when I met you. Butter-yellow coat, bright red mane, eyes like amber and sweet as honey. You were nine pounds, thirteen ounces — a little underweight, but nothing to be concerned about. You were quiet as well, even when the midwife took you away from me, but you also had the most adorable yawn I ever did see. And your hooves were so tiny, and your nose… I could’ve sat there all day tapping it with the edge of my hoof, listening to you giggle and squirm. You were perfect. Never in all my years have I seen a foal so beautiful. I’m sure every mother can say that about their children, but there was something about you that made me burst into tears the second I saw your pretty, little face. And you were mine. All mine. Big Mac was there, as well as Granny, smiling from either side of the bed as they watched me run a hoof through your hair and trace the outline of your ears. We were in my room, in the house. The midwife — a veterinarian and close friend of the family — had already left. You were bundled up in a lilac towel, gazing back at us, mumbling to yourself and blowing raspberries every so often. “Aw, ain’t she a darling?” Granny fawned. She never found out — was too upset I’d let this happen at such a young age to ask who it was with. But you wouldn’t have guessed it that evening, the sunlight beaming in through open shutters and framing her grin in a golden halo. “Gosh darn cutest thing I’ve seen in close to fifteen years.” “Eeyup,” said Mac. I just smiled and nodded. There weren’t no need to kick up a fuss. Not when I had you cradled in forelegs. “Looks just like Pa, don’t you think?” She leaned in a little closer, squinting. “I think you might be right, Applejack,” she agreed, her face brightening like the summer sun. “Missing his green eyes, though, but a spitting image aside from that.” And you were. You are. Every time I look at you, I see him. And I love you all the more for it. And I remember promising myself right then and there I’d never let anything happen to you, because if I did, it’d be like losing him all over again, as well as losing you. You were just too precious. And you were everything I needed. “Thought of a name yet?” Mac asked. I shook my head. Of course I hadn’t. I just couldn’t get over how lovely you were. “Now, hold your horses,” Granny calmly interrupted, sharing a look between me and him. “Before we start setting things in stone, let’s remind ourselves of something first.” We waited expectantly, but we’d both been given the lecture enough to know what she was on about. “As far as Ponyville’s concerned, this here young’un’s your new baby sister.” A pang of regret struck me. I couldn’t help it. I knew why we had to keep it secret — to protect the family name, as well as you and me — and to this day, it’s the only lie I’ve been comfortable telling. We’d kept to ourselves since Ma and Pa passed, Mac and Granny only heading into town for essentials, so news of a third child wouldn’t have seemed too out of the ordinary, so long as we timed it right. But thing was… I’d never have the chance to be your mother. I’d make believe at home, for a time; feed you, change you, bathe and play with you, the way a mother should. Laugh and cry like mothers do. But as soon as you could speak, even make believe had to end. I was ‘Applejack’, ‘AJ’ and ‘big sis’. Never ‘Momma’. And it was silly of me to hope otherwise. But none of that had happened just yet. At the time, I was sad, but I was happy — happy to be surrounded by ponies who cared for me. And I had you. Nothing could’ve brought me down after seeing the look in those dear, little eyes. “I can live with that,” I said, and I meant it. Even though my voice was shaky and caught at the back of my throat, I really, genuinely meant it. “Eeyup,” Mac agreed. Granny nodded slowly, chewing on her bottom lip. And then she lowered her gaze and rubbed her chin. “Now, as for a name…” All our attention turned on you, and you seemed to know it. You tittered and burbled, and looked at all of us so eagerly, as if you knew how glad we were to see you. As if you knew how special you really were. “Apple… Tart, maybe? No, wait, how about, uh… Apple… Seed? Yeah. Apple Seed.” I shook my head with a smile. That didn’t suit you at all. Seeds are stagnant, always waiting for, but never quite living up to their potential. And apple seeds need very particular conditions to grow, so fussy and high-maintenance, even with a farmer’s tender hoof. But you? You’d sprout. You’d blossom. You wouldn’t care if the soil’s too hot or too cold; you’d sink your roots in and make it your own, just like me, just like Mac, and just like Granny. And you’d grow so tall. You’d make lots of friends, and you’d do amazing things together, and you’d be so much more than I could’ve ever imagined. You’d be a pony the world would come to love. And that’s when I had it. I gently leaned down and gave you a soft kiss on the nose. You giggled again and tried to hug my snout. And I couldn’t have been happier. “Welcome home, Apple Bloom.”
MeIt was August when I found out about you. Spent a whole ten minutes just staring at the thing: two lines on a tiny, little screen. Positive. It didn’t seem real. It didn’t feel real. How could it be? I kept waiting for something to happen — for the noise outside to dip, or the edges of my vision to blur and the world fade to nothingness. For me to snap out of whatever stupor I was in and actually focus on what was happening. Or what wasn’t happening. I felt hollow. Frail. Cold in the chest and light in the head. Exposed and vulnerable. Isolated, lost, lonely. Everything and nothing; a numbness that made my teeth chatter and hooves weak and simply made me wish I’d never been born. I was scared. Of course I’d been scared before. I was scared when I saw pigs for the first time and thought they’d eat me. When I helped mend the roof and thought I’d fall. When I first used a pitchfork to sort out the straw and thought I’d stab somepony. When I got turned around in the Everfree and thought I’d never find my way home. When Ma and Pa… …When they passed. Even nowadays, when I go on adventures with Twilight and Co, I get scared. I’m scared I’ll get hurt, or we’ll lose… or what my family will do without me if I don’t come back. Heavens forbid, if anything I face somehow manages to threaten you… But you weren’t around just yet. Not really. And this was a different kind of scared. This was a feeling that ate away at me from the core, like a disease. It paralysed me. I didn’t know what to make of it or what to do, so I kept on staring, hoping something would change. But nothing did. Everything stayed exactly as it was, and the chatter outside wasn’t dying down anytime soon — it was only midday, after all, and nopony, neither stranger nor clan member, could ever refuse a meal hosted by Granny. I can’t imagine what she’d have done if she knew. But for the longest time, I was stuck there on the toilet. Not even thinking, just… existing. Wondering what in the world I was supposed to do next. Ma couldn’t help me, neither could Pa, and I’m not sure either would’ve wanted to if they could’ve. Not if they knew the whole truth. Because family meant a lot to them, and it means a lot to us too, but some bonds… can’t weather every storm. This storm, I think, was one of them. I needed help, though. I needed somepony to guide me, or at least share the load with, and the only pony I could talk to was downstairs. Which meant I had to wake up and actually do something. So, I did. Somehow, I found the mind and strength to slide off. I stumbled a bit, quite dizzy and still a little weak in the knees, almost knocking my head against the sink. That was a scary thought, I remember; if somepony busted down the door to make sure I’m okay, they’d find me unconscious and the stick on the floor. The whole family would’ve known then, and they’d be asking all sorts of questions — questions I had neither the answers for nor the nerves to face. But after I recovered, I steadied myself against the bathroom counter, and while I was there, I spied myself in the mirror. I looked a mess. Not entirely, but… I saw something in my eyes I ain’t never seen before or since. I looked haunted. Barely alive. Pupils down to pinpricks and everything. Like I’d ran a hundred miles and found a thousand more ahead of me. Didn’t feel much better either. But I never felt sick. That was the strange part. Not once in that whole doggone ordeal did I feel the urge to lean over either of those bowls or duck behind the homestead and hurl my guts out. In a way, I suppose that disturbed me more than the news itself, but then, I’d always been the resilient type. You kind of have to be, labouring away on a farm like this. I guess that’s why the Pies are so stoic; we work with timber, they work with rocks. In that moment, though, seeing my reflection, I felt like jelly. I couldn’t do this. Who was I kidding? Maybe it’d be better if I just kept my mouth shut and somehow dealt with it myself. But I knew I’d grow distant and quiet if I did that, and ponies would get suspicious if I stopped talking back and avoiding them where I could. I was a horrible liar, anyway — still am — so it’d only be a matter of time before I’d slip up and have to come clean. It wouldn’t be pleasant, not in the slightest, but if I wanted to maintain my sanity, I had to get a move on. Granny expected me out in the crowd, mingling, familiarising myself with the rest of the clan, and them with me. It was the first reunion without Ma and Pa, after all, and they wanted to know what kind of children we were raised to be. I had to smile and nod and say please and thank you, but there was no way I’d be keeping up appearances without somepony knowing the stress I was under. So, I grit my teeth, combed my mane back a little, breathed deeply, then pulled away from the sink and headed for the door. There was nopony in the hallway, thankfully, or they’d have seen me look left and right like I was crossing the street in Manehattan. That made sense, though, because outside was where everything was happening — food, drink, games, company… everything I didn’t really need right then and there. What I needed was seclusion, preferably with a few mugs of hard cider, even if I wasn’t old enough to have it legally at the time. Not that I was in a position to argue the legality of certain things. What came to mind first was disposing of the evidence. I know that makes me sound criminal, but I don’t think anypony would really fault me for it either. Trying to keep something hidden from so many prying eyes would’ve been next to impossible, and I hadn’t started wearing my hats at that point. So, without wasting time, I trotted down the hallway and ducked into my room, stowing the stick under my pillows for safekeeping. Better than leaving it in the trash for somepony to find, or digging a hole in the yard. With that sorted, I made my way downstairs. I wanted to be quick, to get there faster, but I also wanted to be careful, so I didn’t seem like I was in a rush, and so I wouldn’t trip up. And going down that staircase, I was afraid I’d do that; each hoofstep was harder and heavier than the last. I swear I was sweating a little too, even though my fur was completely dry when I moved to wipe my forehead. Eventually, though, I made it. My nerves were rattled, and the closer I got to the exit, the more my heart pounded. I could smell freshly baked apple pies and fritters and everything else Granny had cooked wafting from the empty kitchen, and I closed my eyes for a moment to savour the scent, resting on the railing. It made me feel hungry. It wasn’t much, but a distraction was better than nothing for somepony in my situation. I don’t think anypony would’ve wanted to be, though, no way no how. But everything has to come to an end. The door opened not long after and in walked Granny, a bit younger than you’d ever remember seeing her — no wiry hairs sticking out from her buns and such, and a few less wrinkles. She was carrying an empty platter, heading for the kitchen to restock, but stopped when she saw me. “Something wrong, dearie?” I blinked once or twice, then shook my head. “Nothing, Granny, just… more kin than I recall.” She paused for a moment, then slowly nodded and lowered her gaze. “And two less…” I didn’t need to hear that. It’d only been, what, two weeks or so? The wounds were still fresh — still hurt — and now I had Granny reminding me what we lost. And in a way, how you began. “Go on,” she said, “find your brother. Knowing how talkative he is, I’m sure he’s doing just fine on his own out there.” That was sarcasm. She always had that dry wit about her, and she still wasn’t too happy regarding that stunt we pulled with her and Filthy Rich and the hospital and whatnot. Couldn’t blame her then, can’t now either. All I wanted to do right then and there was get out and make sure she didn’t see how hard my tail was clamped against my rear. And I know that’s uncouth of me to say, but you have to understand, calling this whole thing an awkward situation puts it mildly. As soon as she started off for the kitchen again, I trotted for the door and peered through the window. There were easily a hundred ponies outside, probably more — the biggest gathering to date, I swear, but that might just have been how it looked to me at the time. Definitely one of the largest reunions, that much I’m certain of. But there wasn’t much use in gawking, so after collecting what few thoughts and nerves I could, I slunk back, put a hoof on the handle, took a deep breath in… then out… then in… then out… and pulled. Tables and blankets stocked with all kinds of foods welcomed me, occupied by faces familiar and not, and some I’ve never seen since. They laughed, they talked, they cheered, they ate, and fillies and colts darted all over the place. I never really noticed up until that point how many children the clan could boast —twenty, thirty… heck, maybe even fifty. Too many, it seemed. Like the world were somehow playing a cruel joke on me. It made me want to run away. Slam the door shut, dash back up the stairs, pull the blanket off my bed and hide in the corner where nopony could see me cry. If they came with questions, I’d have given no answers. And the first chance I got, I’d have pack my things and left for Celestia knew where — anywhere but here. But that wouldn’t have solved anything. Instead of my current problems, I’d have faced new ones. And more than that, there was one constant I couldn’t simply run away from. You. Practically speaking, I only had one option, and that was to find the one pony I could talk to — the one pony who might’ve, might’ve understood. So, that’s what I did. Against every fibre of my being screaming for me to do anything but, I stepped outside. And nothing changed. Nopony noticed me, no scornful glares were cast. Maybe somepony did, but were too polite to kick up a fuss about it, but for all intents and purposes, I was just another young mare in the crowd. So long as I kept my head down and face straight, I could do this. That’s what I told myself, at least. Whether I believed it was another matter entirely. I trundled slowly onward, trying as best I could to keep my hooves steady while I cautiously scanned all around me. Anypony whose gaze I met, I forced myself to give them an anxious smile. I hoped showing them some semblance of confidence would get them thinking I was more nervous of the reunion than I was about what they might find out. It seemed like the right move to make at the time, despite myself, and for the most part, it worked. Uncle Mosely had other ideas. “Applejack!” he hollered from his family’s table. “Long time no see!” Indeed it was. I hadn’t seen the Oranges since I left them for Ponyville again. I’d always meant to check in with them, see how things were going, and if I’d upset them after changing my mind so suddenly, but right then wasn’t the time. So, I pretended I hadn’t heard him. “Applejack!” he called again, then slid out from his bench and trotted toward me and hugged me from behind. “It’s been so long, baby girl. How’ve you been?” …Okay, I was wrong; that part made me feel a little sick. But I couldn’t pull myself out of the hug to get some breathing space, so I faked a flattered chuckle and continued glancing about. “Great, Mosely, just… just great.” He must’ve been a bit tipsy, because nopony can hear a lie of mine and keep a straight face. He only squeezed me tighter. “That’s wonderful, sweet pea. And please, accept my apologies for not being there at the funeral.” That was on his mind too, I guess. But saying that only made his embrace feel hollow. I was sure he meant well, and I still think so, but ain’t like anypony could’ve turned back the clock. And in that moment, I definitely would’ve, so long as it meant getting away from him. Heck, if it meant bringing back Ma and Pa… But that’s not something you need to hear. Not long after he said that, I caught sight of Big Mac hauling two open crates of bottled cranberry cider on his back — a gift from family down in Appleoosa who couldn’t make it. He was making rounds, offering them to anypony who wanted. Right then, I needed him. “Thanks, Mosely,” I said, somehow yanking myself free from his grip, “Really, thanks, but I have to do something real quick.” “Oh, sure,” he replied, as if I hadn’t brushed him off, or it wasn’t that big a deal. “We’ll talk more later, okay?” I didn’t give him an answer. Either I didn’t plan to or I didn’t have one — I can’t remember. All I remember doing after that was marching at a brisk pace for Mac, avoiding ponies left, right and centre, somehow worried if they’d know what I knew if they touched me. More likely they’d have wanted to strike up a conversation, and I think I heard my name tossed around a few more times, but I wasn’t having any of it. I couldn’t afford to. I was already at wits’ end. My breathing was stuttered and my body felt naked and fragile, as if I had no fur or hair to protect me from the wind, and the smallest tap would make me shatter into a snivelling, quivering mess. At one point, it was like ants were crawling up my skin, up my spine. Those were the longest couple dozen yards of my entire life. But somehow, eventually, I navigated my way through the herd and came up behind him, where I could finally breathe a small, restrained sigh of relief. All I had left to do was tear him away from Mandarin Orange, who was blathering on about how business was booming on the west coast. Ponies just love citrus over there, she claimed. No useful information, just harmless boasting. Mac was taking it all in with a few good-natured nods. It was hard to tell if he was actually listening. But he had to listen to me. “Uh… excuse me, Ms. Mandarin?” I called, but it came out feeble and choked, so I tried again. “Ms. Mandarin, ma’am?” They both looked at me. Even though I knew they didn’t mean it, their gaze was cold and cutting like ice to the heart, and I took a step back. For all I cared, it may as well have been the whole clan who turned their attention on me. “Why, if it isn’t Applejack!” she declared, as if I were the hidden treasure in one of Rainbow’s Daring Do books. But then her expression changed. “Is something wrong, dear? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” In all honesty, I wish I had. That way, I could’ve told the truth and used it to distract her. “No, no, nothing you need to worry about,” I gracelessly dismissed, waving a hoof. “I just… need to borrow my brother for a minute. There’s something he needs to hear.” She quirked an eyebrow. “What kind of something?” I hesitated for a moment, wondering if I’d heard a suspicious undertone. Maybe she already knew, somehow. Maybe Mac had let something slip, even if he hardly talked anymore. It felt like my throat had seized up, and for that split second, I was afraid I’d never be able to speak again. But then I glanced at him and saw nothing but innocent curiosity and a hint of concern. He wouldn’t have said anything. He didn’t know. And if he didn’t know, she couldn’t possibly either. Only I knew. For the time being, I was safe. I switched back to Mandarin with a newfound sense of determination, but I didn’t show it. Not outwardly. “A sisterly something,” I said. If I tried to sound touchy I can’t remember. If I did, I failed. “Oh, of course, dear, don’t mind me.” She giggled to herself. “There I go again, poking my nose in other ponies’ business. I’ll be over minding the kids if either of you need me.” Kids. Everywhere, kids. The universe couldn’t get enough out of twisting the nail that day. I could only be glad she turned away before I did, or I’m sure her nosiness would’ve made it even harder for me to worm my way out of there. But as she walked away, blending into the crowd and noise and commotion, I looked to Big Mac. He was already looking at me, and probably had been since I last checked. But he didn’t seem to judge, or too deeply troubled. I always liked that about him. Where I fussed and fretted, he was the voice of reason, and he’s only gotten better with age. But whether he could handle what I needed to get off my chest was yet to be seen. Without a word, I gestured for him to follow me to the barn, and after a brief moment’s pause, he fell in line a little ways behind. Nopony saw us go, I don’t think, and if they did, I’m pretty sure they’d have thought he was just helping me with some supplies and such. Doesn’t take a wild imagination to think of any reason a brother and a sister might want some privacy for. We strolled through the open doors, only slightly ajar, and I quietly shut the way behind us. It was dim inside, even with the hatches uncovered, and it smelled of dirt, dust, wood and fodder. Straw covered the floor, strung up in bales, hay heaped in piles in the corners and the second storey… I stood perfectly still, peering through the dark, listening carefully, trying as much as I could to filter out the hustle and bustle beyond the walls. Nothing. But I had to be extra sure, so motioned for Mac to stay and began to prowl. I stalked the stalls, searching for any foals who thought it’d be fun to play hide and seek while eavesdropping on other ponies’ conversations. I know I did when I was younger. Heard my fair share of embarrassing confessions, which I then blurted out to those concerned, because being honest was good, and it was fun to see what happened next. But what I had to share was more than a crush, or whichever side of the aisle somepony leaned, and it couldn’t be allowed under any circumstance to be heard by such young ears. With the ground level cleared, I climbed the ladder and checked the piles of hay and extra equipment up there. Still nothing. And with that, my nerves were at least somewhat settled. I was still jittery, of course, but I felt a little more free to do so — to shake and shiver — and not have anypony ask me about it. Except for the one pony who needed to know why. I returned to the floor, where Mac was already strolling for the centre of the barn and the few bales resting there. The soft chime of glass bottles and hooves on packed earth and pebbles were the only sound coming from inside. If the reunion hadn’t been going on, I’m sure I’d have heard my heartbeat as well. It was that quiet, where we were, and the air felt thick and heavy, but dry. Uninviting. Unpleasant. But I’d come too far to turn back. Macintosh was waiting for me. And if I left, the only option was to face the throng outside, where I’d have surely broken down. So, letting myself tremble on whichever step I needed to, I slowly made my way toward him. My head was slumped, my pace reluctant, my ears pinned back and tail clamped, and after my plodding walk of shame was over, I hopped up and sat on the bale opposite his. And he was kind enough, as always, to give me whatever time I needed. And how I needed it. I must’ve sat there for… I don’t know how long. Just staring at my hooves. Building what little courage I could. Toying with my mane and biting my lip. Gently rocking back and forth. I was wasting time, I knew, because if someone came in wondering where we were, I’d have missed my chance, possibly for the whole event. And if I was fit to burst then, who knows what would’ve happened in even an hour’s time? I had to do it. I had to tell him. So, I did. I looked him in the eyes. I breathed deeply. And then I told him. I was pregnant.
HimBig Macintosh said nothing for a long, long while. He stared at her, lips parting, eyes widening, ears angling back, a deep, cavernous hole opening up within him. What could he say, if not the obvious? “Are you sure?” Applejack held his gaze and nodded slowly. “Positive,” she answered. Her tone was shaky, but he could tell she was trying her best to sound resolute. “There’s a stick under the pillow in my bedroom. Ninety-nine percent accurate.” “Then you should try again, right? Take another and—” “That was the second. I flushed the first.” He sat frozen, a chill dancing through him. “It can’t be wrong, Mac. Not with odds like that.” He lowered his gaze and swallowed hard. His throat suddenly felt very, very dry, and there was a curdling in his stomach — the kind he got when he’d had one too many apples; even as a farmer himself, he had to admit there were limits. And right now, he’d have eaten the whole orchard if it meant getting out of… this. Not that he didn’t care for her, no — of course he did — but he was pretty sure she was almost thinking the exact same thing. “You haven’t, uh… been with any—” “I wish I had.” The words stung like the crack of a whip. They didn’t hurt his pride, because Celestia knew it was something neither of them were all that proud of, but they way she said it — so frank and straightforward… That’s what stung; she meant it, and she didn’t have any reservations about saying it. And the worst part was he couldn’t blame her. If there were another culprit, this would’ve still been an awkward and troubling situation, but it wouldn’t have been as upsetting. And that was putting it extremely mildly. Couple the outcome here with why they’d done it to begin with… He folded his forelegs and looked down at the dirt through the gloom, trying to keep his breathing calm and measured. She’d come all this way to tell him this, and she wouldn’t have risked telling him unless she felt she had to, especially with the reunion going on. She was normally so strong, but it seemed this was her breaking point. He had to be brave for her, in that case. If only he felt much braver himself. “But I thought…” he began, squinting, and then peered up at her. “Weren’t you…?” She lowered her focus to the ground, ears flattening against her head and hindlegs pulling in a little closer. Her weight shifted, no doubt making room for her tail. “Must’ve come into heat early,” she meekly said, hugging her stomach. “Explains why… why I encouraged you.” His brows creased. “AJ…” “I shouldn’t have.” She stiffly shook her head, eyes half-closed and distant. “It’s my fault. It wasn’t right and I knew it, but—” “AJ, it’s nopony’s…” He drifted off, realising what he was about to say wasn’t entirely accurate. He was the one who found her alone on the couch, crying. He was the one who sat down beside her and held her close. He was the one who told her everything would be okay and kissed her forehead. He was the one who didn’t resist when she kissed back. “…We’re both to blame.” “But I wanted it,” she snapped in anguish, peering up at him again. “You didn’t make the first move: I did. How could it be your fault if you just… sat there and took it?” Mac felt a sharp pang of guilt and returned his attention to the floor. They hadn’t talked about that night, immediately after or since, and if that’s the view she was taking, this talk was long overdue. And following a lengthy pause, he looked her in the eyes once more — emerald like his, but brighter. More lively. Even marred by worry, they were still beautiful. “Well,” he murmured uneasily, “maybe I wanted it too.” Applejack blinked, as if the concept were somehow foreign to her. Her hesitancy borrowed him time to gather his thoughts. He swallowed as he sat a little more upright, hoping to moisten his throat and mouth, then chewed his cheek as he glanced off to the side for a moment. “I didn’t… mean for it to reach that point, AJ. I just wanted to show you I’d always be there for you, even with Ma and Pa gone.” She remained silent, her expression unchanged. “But when you did the same…” Mac slowly, listlessly shrugged, caught on the memory. And as he did so, he found himself beginning to trace her physique. He quickly lowered his gaze to the dirt, ashamed. “I couldn’t help myself.” Still, Applejack said nothing. Perhaps she was realising what the conversation had shifted to, and was coming to terms with it. But then she took a short breath in and a heavy one out, blinking like she’d been awoken from some kind of trance, and looked away, lips pursed. Deep in thought. She wasn’t angry, or distraught, or anything of the sort. Just brooding. Figuring out what to say and the right way to say it. Mac waited. His teeth chattered faintly — anxiety building like steam in a teakettle. Nowhere near the point where he’d burst, but noticeable. “I don’t want to sound like I’m not in control of myself…” Applejack mumbled, shaking her head, “but something in me that night… broke, I guess.” “Eeyup,” Mac sombrely agreed. “I don’t know what it was.” She shrugged. “Grief? Hormones? Did I… not want to be alone that badly?” He nodded pensively. “Could be all three.” “But doesn’t that seem… wrong at all?” She returned to him with furrowed brows and parted lips, equal parts confused and disturbed. “I… we did… that… because we missed Ma and Pa, not even three days after they passed?” He licked his lips and gazed up at the wooden wall behind her in thought. “It does.” “But we did it anyway.” “We did.” Applejack paused for a long while, fixing him with a pleading look. “But why?” Mac blew a long, deep sigh. His throat was dry again. And after a few moments, he looked down to his left, reached over, and picked out a bottle of cranberry cider from the crate beside his bale. “You said it yourself,” he finally answered, popping the lid and taking a sip. “Grief, hormones, not wanting to be alone.” Her expression tightened as she shook her head once more. “That still doesn’t seem right.” “And when would it be?” She hesitated, before shrugging yet again. “I don’t know. Probably never.” As he waited for her to continue, Mac took a proper swig. It was sweet on the tongue, bubbly as it went down. Not strong enough for him to feel the effects from a single glass, but soothing all the same. Granny would’ve had a field day if she caught him drunk anyhow. “It wasn’t supposed to happen. Any of this.” Applejack’s gaze drifted right, growing distant, and Mac spied the subtle glint of tears forming. “But we…” “We needed it.” She returned to him, still a little lost, but at least she was present. “We needed each other.” She frowned to herself as she bit her lip. And then she shook her head for a third time, looking grimly at her stomach. “You can say that all you like, Mac, but… that doesn’t change what’s become of it.” “Doesn’t mean it’s not true,” he countered humourlessly, reaching for the crate once more and tossing her a bottle. She caught it just in time with a gasp and a wince. And when she settled down, she didn’t seem too appreciative, holding the bottle sideways between her forehooves and staring at the glass intently. What her intent was, though, he couldn’t tell. Maybe he’d been a bit too presumptuous. Maybe he shouldn’t have made that point. Maybe he should’ve known better and kept his mouth shut like he promised he would. And the longer the silence dragged on, the more unsure of himself he felt. He opened his mouth to say something. “We made a mistake.” And then he slowly closed it, letting her finish. “A big, dumb… fun mistake.” She broke into a small, mischievous, melancholy smirk, taking a guilty pleasure in savouring the memory. It was a cute look on her. But then the look faded to something less playful and she popped the top off and had a drink. “And look where it’s gotten us.” “Eeyup.” More silence followed, but it was the comfortable sort. One where they sipped and drank took everything in. What they now faced. What they could do. What it all meant. And in the background, the reunion continued as if nothing out of the ordinary were happening in the slightest. All that stood between them and the everypony else was a couple dozen yards and a few wooden planks. And if the two worlds clashed… There was enough ammunition here for the whole clan to walk away changed forever. “Guess there’s only one question left,” Applejack mused, watching as she swirled the cider about in her half-empty bottle. “What do we do now?” “Eeyup.” She peered up at him and cocked an eyebrow. “That’s your new catchphrase, is it?” Big Macintosh shrugged. Sighing softly, she looked away and shook her head to herself, slouching with her elbows on her knees. And then, with another deep breath, she returned to him. “So, what do you think?” Being put in the spotlight wasn’t unexpected — she looked to his advice often and this time was no different. Except it was; it involved him. And he couldn’t back out of this without running off to somewhere far, far away, where nopony knew his name. But he wasn’t doing that. Never mind the practicalities or lack thereof, or the strain on his moral character. He simply didn’t want to go. No way, no how. Applejack was here, Granny was here, his family was here. Whatever happened, he knew where he belonged. “I think it’s up to you.” She blinked, confused, drawing her head back slightly and sitting a little more upright. “You don’t want to have a say in it?” He shook his head and took another sip. “I messed up. That’s on me. But it’s your body, your choice. You do what you think’s best for you.” She paused again, angling her head inquisitively. “And if I decided… not to have it?” “Then you’d better do it safely,” he advised, even if part of him felt wrong for saying it so casually. “With professional help, of course. Either way, you’ll have to explain yourself to Granny sooner or later.” And in an instant, her newfound strength failed and she sagged. “Can’t believe I almost forgot about her,” she groaned, covering her face with a foreleg and dragging it down. “Sweet Celestia, what am I going to say?” “You fooled around, like ponies our age usually do?” She flashed him a warning glare. “Hey, you wanted suggestions.” “Well, you don’t need to sound so flippant about it.” He cocked an eyebrow. “And what you prefer I sound like?” She rolled her eyes in exasperation. “I don’t know, concerned?” “Never said I wasn’t.” He finished off his cider with a short, final swig, and after making sure there was nothing besides the tiny droplets always leftover, he set the bottle at his hooves. “But fretting over it ain’t going to do nopony any good, us least of all. Especially you.” “Damn it, Mac, can’t you be a little less stoic for once?” He lightly shook his head with a sympathetic grin. “You know I can’t, AJ. Not while you’re like this. Not when you need somepony to talk to.” Applejack held his gaze for a long moment, then cast it down and hugged herself tighter, slouching forward. She stayed like that for a while, gently rocking, silently staring, brows creased as she chewed her cheeks and swung her hindlegs. And then she shook her head. “I’m scared, Mac.” “Me too.” He nodded and sighed. “Me too.” “And if there’s one thing I know for certain, it’s we’re never doing that again.” His ear twitched, and a mischievous smirk of his own tugged at his mouth. “Well…” Another glare shot his way. And then the smirk was gone. “Of course not,” he assured, a small, understanding smile taking its place. “Never again.” “Good,” she huffed, and after a brief pause to make the point stuck, she turned away from him once more. “Sorry, I’m just… not in a joking mood right now.” “Fair enough.” He nodded soberly and understandingly yet again. “Between us, you definitely have the short end of the stick. No doubt about that.” Applejack downed the rest of her cider as well. “Nope.” “Can’t say I envy you.” “I can,” she said impassively, watching as she swirled the empty bottle around in the loose grip of her fetlock. “First time in my life I’ve found myself wondering what it’s like to be a boy.” “I bet there’s a spell for that.” She snorted and smirked despite herself. “Yeah. There’ll be a spell for everything soon enough. Except the things that count.” Mac’s smile fell. “Applejack…” “I know, I know, there’s no use fretting,” she waved him off and sighed, “I just wish things had been different. That we saw more of them. Did more with them. Not got angry at them when we were in the wrong. That we…” Big Mac waited. “…That we were there for them when it mattered.” “We were.” She looked up at him. “We always were.” He gave a slow, solemn shrug. “And they were there for us.” “Then why doesn’t it feel like enough?” He paused for a moment, then let out a quiet sigh and sagged. “Maybe it never does.” Another silence. Long and heavy. The air was thick with an invisible fog. They’d reached an impasse, where all they needed to say had been said, and pretty much anything from that point on would be redundant. They’d be treading old ground, finding fears they’d already put to rest. And yet, they didn’t leave. They didn’t want to face the music — the reality. Perhaps if they simply stayed here, everything would be fine. Perhaps nopony would find them, and the world outside would function as normal, never sparing them a second thought. It was a pleasant fantasy, but it wasn’t meant to be. Things had happened, things were going to happen. It was time to face them head-on. “Whatever you choose, AJ, I’ll be there for you.” Big Mac returned to her and watched her soberly. He didn’t smile, he didn’t pout, but he wasn’t expressionless either; he was encouraging. “Always have, always will be. That’s what brothers do.” “That’s what fathers do too.” His breath caught in the back of his throat, but he forced the small sense of panic down and refused to let it show. Instead, he slid off, slowly strolled forward, and sat down in front of her. And then he hugged her close, head over her shoulder, hers over his, and he closed his eyes and relished the scent of her mane. “It’s what families do.” Another long moment of stillness reigned, and then Applejack nuzzled into his neck and wrapped her forelegs under his, linking them behind his back. Silence again, and their world was at peace, neither wanting to leave the warmth and embrace of the other. But it couldn’t last forever. There was one question left; one final obstacle they had to overcome. So, with a heavy heart and a tender squeeze, Big Mac broke the spell. “What’re you going to do?”
UsIt was April when I met you. Butter-yellow coat, bright red mane, eyes like amber and sweet as honey. You were nine pounds, thirteen ounces — a little underweight, but nothing to be concerned about. You were quiet as well, even when the midwife took you away from me, but you also had the most adorable yawn I ever did see. And your hooves were so tiny, and your nose… I could’ve sat there all day tapping it with the edge of my hoof, listening to you giggle and squirm. You were perfect. Never in all my years have I seen a foal so beautiful. I’m sure every mother can say that about their children, but there was something about you that made me burst into tears the second I saw your pretty, little face. And you were mine. All mine. Big Mac was there, as well as Granny, smiling from either side of the bed as they watched me run a hoof through your hair and trace the outline of your ears. We were in my room, in the house. The midwife — a veterinarian and close friend of the family — had already left. You were bundled up in a lilac towel, gazing back at us, mumbling to yourself and blowing raspberries every so often. “Aw, ain’t she a darling?” Granny fawned. She never found out — was too upset I’d let this happen at such a young age to ask who it was with. But you wouldn’t have guessed it that evening, the sunlight beaming in through open shutters and framing her grin in a golden halo. “Gosh darn cutest thing I’ve seen in close to fifteen years.” “Eeyup,” said Mac. I just smiled and nodded. There weren’t no need to kick up a fuss. Not when I had you cradled in forelegs. “Looks just like Pa, don’t you think?” She leaned in a little closer, squinting. “I think you might be right, Applejack,” she agreed, her face brightening like the summer sun. “Missing his green eyes, though, but a spitting image aside from that.” And you were. You are. Every time I look at you, I see him. And I love you all the more for it. And I remember promising myself right then and there I’d never let anything happen to you, because if I did, it’d be like losing him all over again, as well as losing you. You were just too precious. And you were everything I needed. “Thought of a name yet?” Mac asked. I shook my head. Of course I hadn’t. I just couldn’t get over how lovely you were. “Now, hold your horses,” Granny calmly interrupted, sharing a look between me and him. “Before we start setting things in stone, let’s remind ourselves of something first.” We waited expectantly, but we’d both been given the lecture enough to know what she was on about. “As far as Ponyville’s concerned, this here young’un’s your new baby sister.” A pang of regret struck me. I couldn’t help it. I knew why we had to keep it secret — to protect the family name, as well as you and me — and to this day, it’s the only lie I’ve been comfortable telling. We’d kept to ourselves since Ma and Pa passed, Mac and Granny only heading into town for essentials, so news of a third child wouldn’t have seemed too out of the ordinary, so long as we timed it right. But thing was… I’d never have the chance to be your mother. I’d make believe at home, for a time; feed you, change you, bathe and play with you, the way a mother should. Laugh and cry like mothers do. But as soon as you could speak, even make believe had to end. I was ‘Applejack’, ‘AJ’ and ‘big sis’. Never ‘Momma’. And it was silly of me to hope otherwise. But none of that had happened just yet. At the time, I was sad, but I was happy — happy to be surrounded by ponies who cared for me. And I had you. Nothing could’ve brought me down after seeing the look in those dear, little eyes. “I can live with that,” I said, and I meant it. Even though my voice was shaky and caught at the back of my throat, I really, genuinely meant it. “Eeyup,” Mac agreed. Granny nodded slowly, chewing on her bottom lip. And then she lowered her gaze and rubbed her chin. “Now, as for a name…” All our attention turned on you, and you seemed to know it. You tittered and burbled, and looked at all of us so eagerly, as if you knew how glad we were to see you. As if you knew how special you really were. “Apple… Tart, maybe? No, wait, how about, uh… Apple… Seed? Yeah. Apple Seed.” I shook my head with a smile. That didn’t suit you at all. Seeds are stagnant, always waiting for, but never quite living up to their potential. And apple seeds need very particular conditions to grow, so fussy and high-maintenance, even with a farmer’s tender hoof. But you? You’d sprout. You’d blossom. You wouldn’t care if the soil’s too hot or too cold; you’d sink your roots in and make it your own, just like me, just like Mac, and just like Granny. And you’d grow so tall. You’d make lots of friends, and you’d do amazing things together, and you’d be so much more than I could’ve ever imagined. You’d be a pony the world would come to love. And that’s when I had it. I gently leaned down and gave you a soft kiss on the nose. You giggled again and tried to hug my snout. And I couldn’t have been happier. “Welcome home, Apple Bloom.”
