Rarity sat primly on her train seat. She shivered slightly and pulled her coat tighter around her body. Trips like these were an unfortunate necessity in her line of business, though ‘unfortunate’ seemed to be the key phrase here. Already her train had been delayed twice due to the icy and wintry conditions, and, judging by the sudden drop in ambient temperature, the car’s heating mechanism had just gone down as well. No matter. With the bits and connections she’d be making, this convention would be worth all the-
“‘Scuse me, this seat taken?”
Rarity jumped at the voice. She knew that voice, though she hadn’t heard it in years. “A- Applejack?” she stammered. How…?
Applejack, wearing no more than the hat she always wore, nodded as she slid into the seat across from Rarity. “‘Fraid so,” she said with a hint of regret. She rested her hooves in her lap and smiled wryly. “Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you or anything.”
There was a long moment of silence, broken only by the constant squeaking sound of the train wheels on the icy tracks below.
Rarity, who had in fact been very startled, finally spoke. “Not like I'm, ah, disappointed to see you, of course; it's just…” She cleared her throat. “This is, just, rather unexpected.”
Applejack scratched behind her neck, shifting her hat forward a bit. “Yeah… I'm, uh, not really even supposed to be here,” she admitted.
“I gathered,” Rarity veritably squeaked.
Applejack exhaled. “Just had to come see you, though. Had something I always wanted to say, never really got the chance before.”
Rarity chuckled nervously. “Well, now that you're here, it seems like a rather good time for that,” she said, hoping her voice didn't sound shaky. “But why me?”
“It's about you, that's why,” Applejack responded. She took off her hat and toyed with it before sighing and, after taking a moment to steel herself, she started, unable to make eye contact. “Rarity, you… ugh, I'm more nervous than a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.”
Rarity cracked a smile in spite of herself.
“I… I wanted to ask you to be my special somepony.”
Rarity blinked.
“Never could bring myself to say it to your face, though. And I regret that.” Applejack looked up and cracked a weary smile. “You’re something special, Rarity. I know we didn’t exactly see eye-to-eye on everything, but deep down, I knew it. I knew you were something special.”
Rarity inclined her head. “You’re far too kind.”
Applejack snorted. “Far too stubborn, I think you mean. I wanted you in my life, but I never took that first step.” She sighed, took a small breath as if about to say more, but then decided against it.
But Rarity wasn’t about to let that go that easily. “Why not?” she prompted gently.
Applejack fiddled with her hat. “Best I can figure, I was just scared.”
“Of what?” Rarity asked, deeply invested and curious now. “Rejection? Being in a relationship? How your family would react?”
“Well, I figured I had a shot after that first Gala, at Donut Joe’s, when you said given the choice you'd marry the lowest-ranked chambermaid over Blueblood,” Applejack admitted, “and the Apple family’s big enough that a few dead ends wouldn’t hurt anypony. ‘sides, growing apples matters more to us than, well, growing Apples,” she finished with a cheeky grin.
Rarity briefly returned it, but it faded as she returned to her question.“So, being in a relationship?”
Applejack shook her head. “Of what could happen in one. I always figured something bad would happen, we'd separate, and we’d lose our friendship. I guess… part of me thought I wouldn’t be good enough for you.”
Rarity squinted, feeling slightly offended. “What would make you say that, darling?”
“You know,” Applejack wheedled. “You’re a fashionista, business pony, traveling all over Equestria rubbing elbows with rich ponies; and I'm a simple apple farmer.”
“You’re anything but simple,” Rarity interjected. “You are kind, clever, sensible, levelheaded, and the greatest of friends.” She gave her a comforting smile. “What you are is far too hard on yourself.”
Applejack exhaled through her nose. “I don’t know,” she said slowly. “Think you're being a little too generous here. If I had had the guts to ask you out, I would've had somepony watching for me.” She gestured towards Rarity’s horn. “Somepony with magic who could’ve lifted that log and saved me, or signaled for help, or something.” She dropped her head. “My fault, I guess.”
“It wasn't your fault,” Rarity said comfortingly.
“Wasn’t it?” Applejack challenged, looking up at her. “Nopony else showed up looking for me. Nopony else gave it a second thought. Everypony else thought I was just working out in the field, working hard, business as usual, just Applejack being Applejack.” She exhaled, looking down. “Poor Apple Bloom. She still kinda blames herself, even though she shouldn't. Wasn’t her fault.” She looked up at Rarity. “You came, though. Somehow, you knew something was wrong. And if you’d been my special somepony, you’d’ve been there sooner and I’d’ve made it. You’re just that caring. You’re just… that good.”
There was another pause.
“I’m not sure I’m all good, darling,” Rarity admitted quietly. “I… oh, it shames me to admit this, but I knew about your feelings.”
Applejack raised an eyebrow as only Applejack could.
“I did,” Rarity repeated, slightly defensively. “Subtlety is not your strong point. And, I suppose, part of me wanted you to make that first move.”
“Would that have been ‘more romantic’?” Applejack asked flatly.
“It would have been,” Rarity answered with a little smile of her own. “A lady does feel the need to be swept off her hooves every now and then by a good, strong gentlec-…”
Applejack, who was most definitely not a colt, raised her eyebrow even higher this time.
“-erm, gentlefilly,” she corrected herself.
“Nice save.”
“You know what I meant.”
“Then I’m sorry I never did enough sweeping,” Applejack said.
Rarity shook her head and let out a mirthless chuckle. “It sounds like such a silly reason when I say it out loud.”
Applejack shrugged. “Well, my reasoning wasn't much better,” she admitted.
“No, it wasn't,” Rarity agreed, “but again, you're not to blame here. I'm sorry if I ever made you feel inadequate in any way.” She exhaled through pursed lips. “If anything,” she admitted quietly, “it was me who didn't deserve you.”
“Beg your pardon,” Applejack said flatly, looking taken aback for the first time.
“Oh, come now,” Rarity said. “You may only see an apple farmer, but I see a marvelous pony who always puts others before herself, a pony willing to do anything to help her friends, fearless, determined.” She stood on the table, raising a hoof dramatically. “Standing for what you believe in and willing to fight for those you love. And your relationship with your sister is exemplary,” she added. “I've always been the tiniest bit jealous of that bond you two share. I may be something special,” she said, using Applejack’s phrase, “but you were a wonderful mare.”
“And yet neither of us said a thing to each other.” Applejack sat back and rubbed her temple with a hoof. “Ah, shucks. We mucked this whole thing up,” she muttered.
“That we did,” Rarity agreed regretfully. She sat down again and waited until she could meet Applejack’s eyes before continuing. “For what it's worth, I truly believe we would have made a good couple.”
“Thanks, Rares,” Applejack said, seemingly feeling relieved. “That feels really good to hear.”
There was a brief pause.
“At the risk of ruining this, ah, tender moment,” Rarity said delicately, “are we going to, um, ‘be together’, again, anytime soon?”
Applejack looked up and gave her a sheepish smile.
Rarity’s eyes widened.
But then again, she'd been preparing herself to accept this possibility since the very first moment she'd seen her.
She licked her lips. “Does… does it hurt?” she asked hesitantly.
Applejack shook her head comfortingly, then paused. “Well, the parts leading up to it didn't feel so good,” she amended with a half-smile, “but the actual crossing? Easier than falling asleep.” She snorted a little laugh. “At least, for me. You, with all your fussin’ before bed and ‘not disturbing the covers’ business and all, I bet it'll be a whole heck of a lot easier than falling asleep.”
Rarity tittered.
A loud screeching made them both jump. Rarity recognized it as the brakes, but she'd never heard them like this before.
Applejack stuck her head through the window. “Oh,” she said calmly. “Curve ahead, and ice on the tracks. That'll do it.”
“I don't suppose you could stay with me the whole time?” Rarity asked quickly, hopefully.
Applejack shook her head even as the whole train shuddered from the effort of trying to slow down. “‘Fraid not,” she answered regretfully. “Gotta go. Like I said, I ain't even supposed to be here right now.” She put her hoof on top of Rarity’s, though her hoof phased through hers and had no weight to it. “But I promise, I'll be there with you as soon as I can.” She winked. “And that's the honest truth.”
Rarity nodded slowly. “Thank you, Applejack.”
Applejack sat back and tipped her hat, and the next time Rarity blinked, she'd disappeared.
Once again alone in the train car, Rarity closed her eyes, waiting. She felt the bone-jarring jolt as the train, unable to slow down, lost its footing on the rails, the agonizing moment as the engine teetered on the tracks, half on half off, and then the stomach-turning feeling of freefall as the heavy engine fell and dragged the rest of the train down with it.
