Dinner came and went, as did the ensuing sleepover. Twilight returned to Equestria two days later with the memories still dominating her mind. Sea-green eyes, red hair.
Twilight had perhaps a well-earned reputation for social naivety, but she wasn’t completely dense. At first she intended to hide her findings from pony-Applejack – to do otherwise had no clear benefit, and plenty of potential harm. Yet as days and weeks passed, the human world became a common topic among her friends. So like and unlike their own, and while Twilight excitedly jabbered of computers and skyscrapers, they would always bring the subject around to more personal ends. “What is Celestia like? What about me? Where does the other me live, and what do they do?”
The subject of human-Applejack’s parents had yet to come up, with Twilight only sharing that she worked the farm and was a dependable, honest presence among her friends. That mollified Applejack, but not Twilight. A lie of omission was, emphatically, still a lie. To keep something that important a secret would crack their friendship if it ever slipped out, and so she quietly resolved to tell.
Twilight prepared carefully for the revelation, readying slides and charts before inviting Applejack over for a private lesson. The natural, gleaming smile of the freckled cheeks fell to a look of stone as Twilight began. She spilled her notecards twice and stuttered often throughout the talk, but got the message across as well as she knew how. Pear Butter and Bright Mac were alive in another world, yet they were not Applejack’s parents. Not the ponies who lived just long enough to teach AJ and Mac to love life and the soil. These two had their own Applejack, their own world of hands and machines.
And they were alive.
Applejack did not say one word throughout Twilight’s explanation. Her expression remained stolid and serious – neither sad, jealous, or hopeful.
She gave a terse question at the very end, but no, Twilight didn’t take a picture. Applejack seemed to silently concentrate after this, trying to form an image in her mind. But she had never seen a human before and soon gave up. She gave a snort and pawed her hoof, trading the effort for a brisk command.
“Take me there.”
Twilight opened her mouth, snatching up a few notecards. Applejack cut in first. “No, no more lectures. You’re just…”
Another snort, and a tight shake of the head. The mouth turned up in a rueful smile. “You mean well, okay? But you ain’t good at this. I don’t need a lesson. I know those two ain’t my parents. My parents are dead, and that’s that.”
The words came out strong, but Applejack’s stern demeanor cracked just a little. She looked away, whickering with agitation deep in her throat. “But her parents aren’t and she’s sort of me, so…”
A hard sigh. Applejack went on gently, far closer to her norm. “Sorry, Twi. This couldn’t’ve been easy on you, neither.”
Twilight smiled patiently. “It’s alright.”
“I gotta meet them,” Applejack said. She sniffed wetly, chewing her words before speaking. “I can’t really explain. They ain’t my folks. But in another world, they are. That ain’t nothing. Even if it ain’t really them, ain’t really mine, they’re still real. Bright Mac and Pear Butter, out there alive somewhere.”
She chuckled. It didn’t reach her eyes. Twilight stepped over for an embrace, gently interlocking their necks as Applejack babbled on. “It ain’t like they’re changelings. They’re real, just not mine. I can see them again. Come on, Twilight. Help me out.”
“Of course,” Twilight murmured. “The portal opens every month and stays open for a few days. I’ll bring you next time, maybe we’ll spend the first day getting you acquainted with being human and scheduling things with, um, human-Applejack. I’m not sure how this will work out, but between the three of us we’ll definitely think of something.”
The month passed. The day came.
Twilight spent a lot of that time fretting preparations, sweating endlessly over the fact that there just wasn’t much to prepare. Applejack tolerated a few dull lessons about the human world, more for Twilight’s sake than any sense of need. Twilight even suggested using Sunset Shimmer’s journal to schedule the meeting in advance, which Applejack flatly refused. She’d never met this Sunset, and this was none of her business.
Applejack went to the Friendship Castle. Nothing worn or carried but her hat and a cold stone in her gut. She kept the latter from her face – no way was she giving her skittish friend any reason to stall for more plans or lessons. Or worse, demand to chaperone. Some things you had to do alone.
“Alone… with them.” But their human faces were still murky in her brain.
“And her.” The ‘human-Applejack.’ Applejack couldn’t picture her, either. Didn’t know what they might have in common, what she might say. How to explain to her parents that an alien clone of their daughter wanted to come say hello.
…Maybe a little preparation would have done good.
Too late now. Twilight, bless her, was there and ready at the crack of dawn. She marveled at Applejack’s steady confidence and promised to stay close until and if the visit came.
The ‘if’ raised Applejack’s eyebrow. She wondered what would happen if things were reversed, and another Applejack wanted to visit her home.
No question there, at least on her end. Family was family, no matter where from.
But the human Applejack was not her. She was younger, still in school. And her parents were alive.
Applejack became the first of her humble line to set hoof in another dimension. She did so almost without noticing. A hoof, then a foot. They went from dim castle to bright sunlight, in the courtyard of some elaborate school. Applejack wordlessly absorbed Twilight’s brief lesson of how to keep balance on two legs, and grappled steadily with the difficulty as one might a necessary chore.
In the end, it came quite easily to her. As did fingers and walking, and everything else this place had to offer except the need for patience. Twilight ‘texted’ the human Applejack and said she explained the situation and would wait for a reply. They continued ‘texting’ back and forth throughout the day as Twilight showed Applejack around. Skyscrapers, computer labs, malls you could build a barn in. They bought fruit smoothies from a pimpled girl who didn’t even look at them. Humans and cars, everywhere you looked.
“What do you think?” Twilight asked as they took their drinks to an outside bench.
Honestly, Applejack was in the wrong mood for this. Twilight saw herself as sharing a wonderful new world with her friend; Applejack wanted to skip to the end.
“Like I’m visiting Manehatten,” Applejack quipped. She didn’t have much else to say, good or bad. Although this smoothie tasted more like candy than fruit.
Twilight beamed at the analogy. “That’s a good point. Coming from Ponyville to here, it’s tempting to presume this world is a lot more urbanized than our own. And it is, definitely, but there are still farms and wilderness. The Sweet Apple Acres here is really nice; I’m sure you’ll like it.”
She read a new ‘text’ and nodded. “Human-Applejack says she wants you over for dinner. I’ll take you there with the bus, then I’ll go hang out with Sunset.”
Inevitably, Twilight continued. “Unless you want me there, after all. There might be a communication breakdown, or–”
“If she’s as me as you say she is, I reckon we can work through anything,” Applejack said. She looked vaguely askance as Twilight pitched her smoothie cup into the garbage, then followed suit. “I told you then, I’ll tell you now. I want this private.”
“I understand,” Twilight said. She didn’t, but that was alright.
The bus came. A half-hour ride carried them far from the malls and skyscrapers, to a place of trees and gravel paths.
Sweet Apple Acres was big in the human world. Maybe it just felt that way because the layout was so different. Giant paths intersected the place, marked by the tracks of huge machines she saw poking out of sheds. She saw a small barracks for guest workers and marveled at how much the farm must produce.
Too early for apples, just like back home. Green, growing buds were only now starting to grace the trees.
A girl jogged towards them from the house – human-Applejack, although mercifully in different clothes than those which appeared on the pony’s body. She positively bounced, happy and energized, kicking up clods of wet dirt in her wake. No hint of melancholy or hidden fear.
But Applejack had always been good at hiding those. White met white as they grinned to each other, then clasped hands.
“Howdy! Y’all must be Applejack.” The human laughed at her own joke, nice and loud. “I’m Applejack. Maybe call me AJ while you’re here?”
Applejack quietly marveled that she got the handshake right on the first try. “Ain’t gonna take away your name, sugar-cube. Anyone wants to call me, they’ll just have to figure it out.”
“‘Sugar-cube.’ Heh, I like that.”
Applejack managed to keep up her smile at the girl’s snort, then it froze at what came next. “My parents will be having dinner with us. I already cleared this with them – beg pardon, Twilight, we don’t keep secrets in this house. They’ve known about Equestria since day one.”
“Well, no black-suited government agents kidnapped me on the way in, so I think you’re fine.”
Twilight shared a laugh with the twin, though the joke went clean over Applejack’s head. She left them with a last few instructions, poorly concealing her worry with good cheer, and began walking back to the bus stop.
“What’s got her so skittish?” the girl asked, watching as Twilight vanished into the orchard.
It was nice to know her twin on this side had a read on Twilight. Enough for Applejack to open up, just a little. “Heck, I’m worried, too. No idea what I’ll say to… uh, to the folks.”
“You too?” The twin grinned wide, like Applejack was telling gags. Tight anger twisted her insides, though it eased with the next words. “Real funny; Twilight was weird around them last time she was here, and now you. Are they villains in Equestria or something? Or some kinda God-Queens like Miss Celestia?”
Applejack’s mouth formed a silent ‘O.’ That explained things – for all her ‘texting,’ Twilight never mentioned the folks were dead in her world.
That this was… the only way Applejack could see them. No wonder the twin was acting goofy. To her, this was just a big, fun, friendly visit.
Good. It wasn’t any of her business.
The girl didn’t press, but it seemed more from scatterbrained excitement than any inkling of the truth. She jabbered on about life and the farm, rocking on her boots and swaying, burning all kinds of energy without need. Sort of reminded her of Applebloom.
“How old are you?” Applejack asked abruptly.
“Seventeen,” came the response. Human-Applejack stopped rocking. “Uh, you?”
Applejack chewed her tongue, then shrugged. “Twenty-four.”
“Dang! That would explain why you’re so…”
The twin grasped for words before belting out, “Cool!”
Applejack barked a laugh, charmed despite herself. The girl rambled on. “You have your own farm? You ever been… uh, kissed?”
“Yes, and yes.”
The twin unknowingly scraped the truth, but she was just so wide-eyed and cute that it was easy to move on. Applejack gave a cheeky smile, noticing a blush on the other’s face. “Got yourself some girl in mind?”
“Nope!” Human-Applejack swore, veering swiftly to a new topic. “I just can’t wait to get a little older. Be on my own some more.”
“You enjoy being a kid while you can,” Applejack said. Part of her wanted to get angry, but knowing this was a younger girl made the foolishness more forgivable.
…It still hurt, just a little. She forced it down. She wasn’t here for this kid, anyway.
“Where are they?” Applejack asked, trying to move things along. “Your parents. I should pay my respects.”
The twin gave a dismissive wave that struck Applejack as mighty disrespectful. “They’ll be along for dinner. Up to you and me to make it, but we’ve got time. Let me show you around a bit.”
A quick tour and comparison of experience answered a great deal of Applejack’s questions. Humans couldn’t harvest apples by kicking trees, and they had no earth pony magic to help the orchard along. Nor did they just cart things over for market day to make their bits. Instead the family used an army of machines and part-timers, and sent their produce down an unfriendly supply chain that swallowed most of the profit.
Belatedly Applejack realized she fell into a trap, seeing humans as lazy with their machines and ‘texts.’ She was a little wiser now.
They ended their tour just as the sun began fading past the orchard. The house looked nothing like her own, and Applejack couldn’t decide if that felt good or bad. A flat, grey color to the sides. A big covered porch with a bench-swing, perfect for watching the sun come up.
The twin arrested her at the entrance. “Boots off before coming in.”
Seemed a bit frou-frou, but Applejack complied.
“Bless This Home.” Granny’s wall-hanging greeted them right from the doorway, made as a wedding gift for their parents. But Applejack’s had a rising sun beneath the words, while this had a cross. The little liquor cabinet right beneath it was still there, though here some boxy machine sat on top.
It took a small, hidden act of courage for Applejack to go past that first hall. This house, this world… like a funhouse mirror. Everything was here, but stretched and squished so bad you could hardly tell.
Her twin turned right from the entrance. Applejack looked left – the living room, just like her own place. Granny’s rocker, but shaped for a human. Mahogany walls instead of home’s green paint. The little toy chest in the corner, made by dad’s own hands. The family used it as a lamp table back home these days, while here it held a stack of magazines. Another boxy machine, this one black and thin.
She saw photos on the mantle, and spun without looking to follow her twin.
A funhouse mirror. A magic mirror. Everything stretched, switched, changed.
Who are they? How do they act and look?
She could learn the last question. The photos were right there. Instead, she marched to the kitchen with heart near to beating out of her chest.
Same white bowls with a little green leaf design. But when she brought them to the dining room, they somehow felt small and light in her hands.
Six chairs were in place around the table. Applejack walked quickly back to the kitchen. Her twin kept digging out dishes, and she mechanically ferried them to the dining room. Plates, forks, cups.
A realization struck, and Applejack’s throat turned to ice. “W-why do we only got four plates?”
“Granny and ‘Bloom are out with their friends,” human-Applejack said, unknowingly earning a deep and relieved sigh.
“And Mac?” Applejack asked.
Her twin took peas out of the freezer, not paying the chat any mind. “He moved out about six months back, got a little apartment up the road. Still works and sometimes eats here, so we leave his chair up.”
The girl unceremoniously began banging the frozen bag on the counter. “Your Mac still lives at home?”
Applejack swallowed. “Yep.”
“Poor guy,” the human said. She tore the package open with her teeth and began pouring its contents into a pot. “Soon as I turn eighteen, I’m doing the same. Mom’s been driving me nuts and I need some breathing room.”
Applejack looked at her in confusion, wondering at the insanity of what was just said. Heat grew across her face as it morphed to anger.
Stupid girl. Spoiled idiot who doesn’t know how good she has it. Nothing like the real Applejack.
She stepped to the dining room, willing her temper down. Her hands gripped the edge of a chair – stars, the carving on it was all wrong.
At least the question of the chairs was solved. Three siblings, Granny, and… Mom and Dad. A chair for everyone.
Except me.
The anger surged up, filling her mind with nonsense. They could trade places. Applejack wouldn’t move out on the folks, no sir! She’d be the most grateful, dutiful daughter they ever had. Not forever – she couldn’t steal this kid’s life. Just a year, perhaps. Or a month, a week. A moment. Anything.
Her eyes stung. She wiped them with the back of her hand. Tried again to imagine her folks as humans, and failed.
Enough. No sense wasting energy moping, or on fairy tale crap.
She turned back to the kitchen, found her twin in the doorway meeting her eyes.
“You okay?” the girl asked.
Applejack always had a good sense of when her friends were down. They did things like face away for a bit with no good reason.
“Yep,” Applejack said.
The girl chewed her tongue for a hot second, scanning Applejack’s reddened face. “Anything bugging you?”
“Nope.”
Another chew. The eyebrows went up, and the girl turned away. “Alright. Slice some potatoes for me?”
When Applebloom was mad or sad, Applejack always gave her a little work. Get the hooves moving, get her distracted, and the moment would pass.
Potatoes felt strange on the fingers. Applejack caught herself chuckling, wondering at the panic Twilight would have at her handling knives with the new body. She did just fine with them – one day she might learn the color of human blood, but not today.
They chatted a bit more, with Applejack steering the focus to their friends. A comfortable topic for both – Twilight had shared much already, but there were some things she didn’t know. About Pinkie Pie, Rainbow, Rarity…
“What’s she like on this side?” Applejack asked with gleeful nonchalance.
“Fine,” the twin mumbled, fixating suddenly on her carrots. Applejack had to beat down her own grin with a hammer.
The food was shepard’s pie, modified to be meatless. An old standby back at Sweet Apple Acres, and it was a bit startling to see the girl make it exactly as Applejack did. Except that half the dang ingredients came from the freezer, but that seemed to be how things worked over here.
With no meat to cook, time in the oven was minimal. Keeping the dough soft and flakey was a big part of the flavor, and Applejack nodded once in approval when the girl brought it out a touch underdone. The hot pan would cook it for just a perfect minute more.
It looked lovely on the table. The table just like hers, except for having round corners instead of sharp.
Four hooves tromped up the porch steps. Somepony was about to knock.
She squinted. No… somehuman. And they had two legs each, so there were two of them.
The handle turned and found its lock. Her twin skidded towards the door. “Coming!”
Keys crunched into place, and the door swung wide. The shout carried all the way to Applejack’s ears. “Hey, Ma! Hey, Pa! She’s here, it’s like magic!”
Cold numbness came over Applejack. She froze, staring to the empty kitchen door. Soon they’d come in and stand right there…
They. Mom and Dad.
No they weren’t. Human knockoffs. A funhouse mirror. They’d be different, just like the girl with her school and machines.
But wasn’t that girl still Applejack? Another life, another world, still Applejack? Which meant her parents were still…
‘Why am I here?’ The thought came far too late. This was a bad idea. What could she even say to them?
He came into sight – broad and beefy and yellow, with a boyish tousle of bright red hair. Two legs, and fingered hands. His wide, long muzzle was nowhere to be seen.
It wasn’t all strange. The eyes were there, as were the freckles. The bright green emeralds and star-spots Applejack had so proudly inherited. He gave a laugh she had not heard in years.
But… that face. That flat, alien face that wasn’t even similar to Dad’s.
She edged to the corner of the dining room, unconsciously backing away. Perhaps this Bright Mac could sense the tension, as he came no closer and offered a friendly grin. “Hey there, pretty girl. No need to be shy.”
He raised his voice, calling to the other room. “Over here, hon!”
The long jeans hid it, but Applejack’s legs trembled as she slipped to the doorway alongside him. Skin like white mocha across her hairless body, with large eyes the color of a balmy lake. Wide dimples pulled as she smiled, flanked by a wave of orange curls.
Perfect. Both of them were, but Mom most of all.
Human.
A parody. Almost a blasphemy.
Applejack’s stomach turned. She felt ill, and wanted to kick something. The ever-fading memories of her parents… she didn’t want these to take their place. Mom’s eyes and Dad’s freckles on flat heads and freakish bodies.
She gulped down the thoughts. Steadied her knees.
Calm and polite. A good guest. Thank them for the hospitality, eat, and get out.
“Hey, y’all,” she croaked, then coughed.
“Howdy, angel,” Pear Butter said, echoing up from Applejack’s memory. She approached gently, raising one dainty little hand up to her cheek. “Y’all came a long way to see us. Up for a hug?”
Applejack steeled herself and accepted the touch. It wasn’t Mom, just a human who looks like her. That made things easier. “Okay.”
Applejack hugged like an apple tree, wooden and stiff. Stars, the woman even smelled like Mom. The faint, fruity scent of pears and love.
Orange curls tickled her neck. They always did when Mom had hugged her; Applejack remembered that part.
The human who looked like Dad rocked on his heels, sending a twinkling glance to the twin. “I think she’s a mite taller than you, Baby Apple.”
“A magic me from another universe comes over and that’s all you have to say?” The girl grumbled, then flopped down on a chair. “C’mon, let’s get dinner rolling. Y’all must have a million questions for her. I know I do.”
Applejack tensed, but that voice, that voice rose up at her side. “Apple-Honey, she didn’t make the trip to be our tutors. She came to have a nice sit-down meal with family.”
Pear Butter’s eyes turned, and Applejack forced herself to meet the gaze. “No pressure, no nothing. Let’s get you fed.”
Mom was like that. You never had to talk if you didn’t want to. Applejack gave her a bashful little smile, and was rewarded with one in return. Lips thin and tight over a human mouth, but still the smile Mom always saved for her. Calm, caring.
Pear Butter made quiet small talk while the others gathered drinks, but for the life of her Applejack couldn’t remember what was said. Hearing that voice was enough. She had sensed Applejack’s nerves, and was soothing them as one might a panicked cow. Low and steady, moving lightly from one topic to the next, slowly easing out the tension.
What Mom used to do.
They sat down, and Pear Butter gripped her hand. A human gesture, but one Applejack readily understood. Fingers soft and warm…
Familial love birthed in Applejack’s breast, growing up around her walls. She closed her eyes, drinking in the voices around her. Mom’s tenderness. Dad’s humor. She was home again. The words took root in her mind, refreshing and renewing her dusty recollections of their voices.
She had forgotten where she was. She opened her eyes, gasped at the scene around her. Freakish heads, ape-like bodies.
Not them. Not her parents.
They’re dead.
She stood, fast enough to knock the chair over. Gasping, wide-eyed. Deathly ashamed as three sets of eyes stared to her.
“I’m sorry,” Applejack said. She blushed fiercely, stumbling as she tried to force her whirling thoughts into words. “Y-you’re not them, okay? I can’t. I don’t.”
Wet fog stole their faces. Humiliation turned to rage, like she was a filly. “You’re not them, damn you! You sound like them, but you’re not! Why am I – Why did I – I gotta, I just gotta…”
She took off, racing through the hall with its ‘Bless This Home’ tomfoolery, socked feet carrying her out through the porch and beyond into the darkened orchard.
The three of them hesitated when Applejack’s pony twin sped out, and by the time they found their brains she was gone. They split up, and near as Applejack could guess it was for the best. She had a pretty good feeling of where the girl might end up, and some things were best handled alone.
She walked the familiar paths, winding through the old orchard. Her playground, her workplace, and her graveyard if all else went right. Applejack tried to explain it to Sunset once, how a farm in the family long enough gave you a sense of permanence, almost immortality. It had a personality of its own, maybe a soul. Paths picked in wild temper were not as random as they seemed, and many of them lead to the same end.
Applejack held a flashlight, but left it off. No need. The trees were friends, guardians, guides. There was old Sandy, letting her know she’d come a half-mile west of the house. About as far as she could run at a dead sprint before losing her breath.
And there was Jasper, with his tall roots forming the perfect place to hide. Right on cue, muffled sobs came from around his trunk.
She walked up without stealth, letting her boots squish loudly on the wet ground. “Hey, partner.”
No answer. Applejack stepped around to find her pony twin sitting with her back to Jasper, shaking and with face buried in her hat.
Jasper had room for two. Applejack sat down next to her, waited for the girl to tire herself out. Sobs grew quiet, and slowly the girl pulled back her head to lean against the tree.
Applejack watched for a moment in the filtered moonlight, weighing the right moment to speak. She conscientiously shot her folks a text, then gave it a go. “Y’all want to tell me what happened back there?”
The girl shuffled in place. “Sorry.”
Applejack grunted. “Fine, let me try this. And deal square with me because I ain’t stupid: what’s up with your folks back home?”
“Dead.”
The answer came wooden, fast, tired. The twin coughed and went on. “Timberwolves. Been that way for… for a while.”
“Grade school?” Applejack guessed.
“Yep.”
“Jesus.”
The pony-twin grasped the air in front of her, then seemed to release it and stare at her hands. “I wanted to see them. That was all. But it’s hell. Your folks, they sound just like them. Even act like them. I close my eyes, they’re my own, back from the dead. But they ain’t, they just…”
The effort collapsed into dry, weak sobs. Applejack reached her arm around, pulled the girl in.
Exhaustion stopped the sobbing soon enough. The girl clung to her shirt, resting her back against the comforting bark.
“I don’t even remember them very well,” pony-Applejack managed. “I just wanted to… I wanted…”
She seemed to wrestle with better words, but they escaped her. A quick, tight shrug. “You know. See them again. Even though I know it ain’t really them, but it kinda is, so is it them?”
Applejack cleared her throat. She wasn’t certain, but she’d sure try to sound like it. “Heck, you know that question ain’t got an answer. I’m Applejack and they’re my parents. That’s real enough for me.”
“Awesome.” The pony gave a bitter laugh. “Your parents are alive. They’re your parents.”
“Well, yeah,” Applejack said lamely, then rallied. “B-but they’re Apples, right? We’re all Apples, and that counts for something. Don’t it? If, if I go to Equestria and got chummy with your Applebloom, would you run me off saying I was some dang stranger?”
The pony huffed. “Of course not. Inter-dimensional hoo-ha be damned, an Apple’s an Apple.”
“So, you’d accept me as kin?” Applejack pressed.
“Bet yer hat on it.”
“Then let us do the same for you.”
Pony-Applejack looked at her for the first time, and Applejack felt a weak smile grow on her face. “Let them do the same for you. They ain’t your parents, no. Not th-the ones who raised you in the time they had. But they can hear you out. Give advice. Love you.”
The pony swallowed thickly enough to be seen in the moonlight. Applejack went on. “Me too, you know. I ain’t as experienced or worldly as you, but I’m as good as they come, and mighty humble about it.”
The unexpected joke earned a tight gasp of a laugh. She stood, then reached her hand down for the other. “Call ‘em aunt and uncle, maybe? And just think of us as long-lost kin instead of copies or whatever. Now c’mon, they’re worried sick right now.”
‘Worried about you.’
Applejack smiled as realization sparked in the girl’s eyes. “You have a place with us. Don’t go thinking otherwise ever again.”
It was… still a little hard to look at them. Mom’s eyes, Dad’s freckles.
She talked to them, and they seemed to understand. They hugged her, cried with her. It was a long night, and they ate popcorn and ice cream instead of the cold pie.
She got in bed with human-Applejack, and the parents each kissed her goodnight.
“Love you, Ma,” human-Applejack said as they kissed her, too. Her voice broke, just a little. “Love you, Pa.”
Her parents left. The sentimental moment passed, and the twin got to telling stories. One hilarious schoolyard antic after another, and soon Applejack was biting her pillow to stop from laughing up the whole orchard.
Human-Applejack was a good egg, a right joy to be around. Applejack fell asleep before thinking to tell her.
Morning came, cool and wet. Twilight ‘texted,’ already on her way to the bus stop. Couldn’t much delay or this little vacation would get a heap longer.
The folks had to hustle, too. Farm work couldn’t wait.
Applejack understood. She accepted a tight hug from Bright Mac, who slipped a silver dollar in her pocket. “Come again, Little Apple.”
“They grow much more and you’ll be the little one,” Pear Butter teased.
Not Mom. Aunt Butter. A different woman.
Maybe Applejack could get used to that. Aunt Butter hugged her and whispered, “Take care of yourself.”
“See ya,” Applejack breathed. Not much, but… she meant it. She kissed the mocha cheek, and entered the misty orchard with her twin by her side. They came out by the street, in sight of the bus stop.
“L…later, cousin,” human-Applejack said, awkwardly trying out the title. “See you around, yeah?”
“Bet yer hat,” Applejack said. She paused a moment, feeling a new warmth of good humor fill her chest. She felt lighter, somehow. Realized in a rush what a magnificent and wonderful thing it was that this girl still had her parents. It should have been a cause for celebration – it would have been, if Applejack had the sense to see it earlier.
“Oh, hey.” Applejack stopped, remembering one last thing. “Partner? Obviously, our worlds are different. You can’t take this as Celestia’s Gospel. But we’ve got a heck of a lot more in common than apart, so I think the odds are really dang good.”
She leaned in, close enough to breathe on her twin’s ear. “Do yourself a favor and ask Rarity out. And don’t be shy with kissing her good-night, after.”
The girl turned red, all the way down her pretty freckled neck.
“Don’t wait five years, like another mare I know.”
“Thanks, partner.” Human-Applejack grinned, though hid her deepening blush behind her hat. Applejack gave her a quick hug and slap on the back, then walked away to where Twilight was waiting.
Author's Note
Thank you for reading.
