Faithfully Yours

                                                                                                                                                            21st August

Midsummer had past, and the days were getting dark earlier, though one wouldn't know it in Appleloosa. For all they knew, Rarity pondered, Celestia might have abandoned the sun too, allowing it to sink arduously through the sky after yet another horrendously long day.

Now the evening shadows were crawling sluggishly across the back porch, where Rarity sat on the edge with a mug of tea between her hooves, silently watching her husband. She didn't look at him directly - she kept her eyes to her mug - but on the outskirts of her vision, his hazy, honey-coloured form was fitting a wooden cover over the gaping hole that was once the garden well. He had set about 'relocating' it early that morning, dismantling the cover and knocking down the wall that surrounded it. The stones were now piled up at the far end of their large, dubious back yard, ready for reconstruction. It was true that the original well had now dried up, and the new location, further East, was now the only convenient place where they stood a chance of getting any water, but there was little point in knocking down the old well, other than to keep one's self occupied.

"Maybe the pegasi will start pushing the rainclouds over here again now that the derby's over. No doubt they've been very preoccupied."

It was a meek statement, but the silence was badly wounded. Braeburn paused, stiffening, but said nothing. Then he continued fitting the cover.

Rarity shut her eyes. She knew that it was more than the dismal state of political affairs that was praying on her husband. Behind those stone eyes he was grieving the loss of Pinkie, who had moved on with her sisters a fortnight ago. The passage of time had seen no improvement to her husband's state, however. He never ate with her anymore - he rarely ate at all - and slept in a hammock on the back porch. It wasn't as though this affected their marriage - Celestia knew it had been over for a long time. But now, their shared misery was confined to their home. Braeburn hadn't the heart or the nerve to go to the saloon anymore, opting instead to create work for himself in the garden. The workers had long since made it apparent that his tokenistic authority was not appreciated. His presence, they both gravely imagined, would prove just as offensive.

Rarity too was at a loss. She could no longer face the townsponies, not so much for fear of further disgrace, but for fear of her own intense hatred that oozed from the scab disgrace had left. At first she had taken walks to the brook, but the voyeuristic workers were no more bearable, and the discovery of the bottle she had broken with Applejack returned her thoughts to her best friend, who had been reported missing just before the derby. The extent of Braeburn's misery was no mystery; vulnerable Earth travellers were destined for incarceration, either within one of Equestria's hideously overcrowded prisons as a result of some alleged misdemeanour, or the elusive system of relief camps fed by Flam's thuggish hunters hungry for the reward money. If any escaped from the former, none returned from the latter. And so when a manic letter from Babs Seed's mother arrived in the post one morning containing the front page Canterlot article on Applejack's disappearance, Rarity had kept the information from her husband. She knew it was wrong, but her ethics were spent, and she hadn't the heart to endure any more of her husband's pain when both his pain and her endurance were only ever for nothing. If Applejack's potential capture had been Rarity's only concern, she might have told him; for this might well be avoided on account of the country mare's high profile status. But Rarity understood her cousin's grave situation all too well. She knew the kind of stallion Flim was, as well as his line of business. She had every reason not to trust him, least of all to tell the truth about the fate of his wife. And when Rarity lay alone at night, she found herself fearing the worst.

Following their public row, Rarity's immediate instinct had been to leave Braeburn; to gather her things and take the train to her parents' town at the first opportunity - but that was before news came in that Soarin had lost the derby, and, consequently, her parents had lost their pensions to Flam's stallions. She longed to see them; console them and help them financially, until it occurred to her that she herself was now, for the first time in her life, dirt poor, and probably couldn't afford the fair out of Appleloosa, let alone to be anything other than an additional burden to her parents. She had entertained the idea of taking up residence in Canterlot - perhaps persuading a couple of lusty pegasi to give her a ride in one of their industrial chariots - whereupon she could re-establish her business. But a successful passage would hardly be worth the danger of contacting the workforce's town. Even if she did make it to Canterlot, it wouldn't be the same as her dreamlike experience with the city's elite two years ago. Things had changed drastically, and she had no doubt that Fleur would inform everyone of her status as a sympathiser and an Earth lover - for all she ran, she couldn't escape her wedding vows.

And yet, for all she hated him, as she watched her husband heave the last of the building stones into his work cart, she wondered what would happen if he touched her again. That day outside the saloon he had left her feeling robbed, as though he had reclaimed every touch he'd ever bestowed on her. As though in all those dutiful pecks on the cheek before his disappearances to the saloon or the patches, he had sucked up a little more love, to surreptitiously redistribute it amongst countless others. And then, abruptly it seemed, she was all dried up, shuddering with resentment and unsaturated need as she sat on the porch in a beautiful, worthless dress. It was in this state of marital desolation that their days were simultaneously wiled away, but their suns never brushed rays, their shadows slid around each other on separate tides, and at night they pierced the heavens to oblivion with their separate stars.

Braeburn had finished filling the cart now, and slunk into the saddle at the front, before stalking towards the far end of the yard, where the wilderness took over, and the new well would presently be constructed. Rarity's eyes fell on the untouched mug of tea next to her, now stone cold. Sighing, she emptied it over the failing flowerbeds, and levitated both mugs into the kitchen.

No sooner had she put on the kettle when the doorbell rang. She froze. Nobody ever called upon them anymore. Had the locals set up some cruel prank in the hopes of driving her out? The doorbell sounded again, this time in a violent couplet, and Rarity's thoughts slipped into darker territory. Supposing it was the protectioners, come for Braeburn? It certainly wouldn't be the first time a prominent member of an Earth pony community had be made an example of, and there was no doubt the workers were still embittered about ever having to take orders from him. Flam's gang would be keen to win them over.

And what if they did? She thought suddenly, unable to stop herself. Would any more tea be left to go cold? Would any more meals be wasted? The knocking persisted, and she shook off the macabre thoughts and headed to the door.

Maybe they'll throw me into the deal for good measure. She thought, an odd, theatrical form of reassurance that proved very effective. Maybe it would be for the best.

What met her was just as urgent, but far less expected. The door was barely ajar when a flurry of orange and burgundy tore into the living room. The entity collapsed at the foot of the sofa, and Rarity gasped when it reared its head.

"Applejack!"

"Shut up!" She growled, her accent noticeably thickened. "Close the door!"

Rarity was swift to comply, before turning back to look at her furiously panting friend.

"Sweet Celestia."

Applejack's visage was clouded with bruises, and her mane was matted with dried blood and dirt. She was wearing the same outfit she had worn when she had visited them at the beginning of summer, but only a seamstress would know it. The dress was horrendously torn, and the hat had half been reduced to a skeleton. Rarity noticed that the petticoat of the frock had been ripped out, allowing her view Applejack's dusty hooves, one of which, to Rarity's alarm, was encased with the inimitable metal of a prison tag. Rarity quickly looked away as though she hadn't seen it, before seizing the dishevelled mare and leading her to the kitchen. The next cup of tea would not be wasted.

--

"Thank you for the letter, Rarity." Applejack said quietly, burying her nose in her mug. "My only regret about runnin' away was that you wouldn't know I got it, and appreciated it."

Rarity smiled briefly, bowing her head. Applejack was subdued for now, but her fear was dormant. Rarity was no psychologist, but she knew mood swings were a common symptom of trauma. The former farm mare had been evidently confused upon bursting into the house, unable to fully register that she was out of immediate danger. If she could compose herself so hurriedly to such an ominous state, Rarity had no doubt she could be incensed just as easily. She knew she had to be tactful, but after a sweaty month of nothing but thinking, the seamstress was aching for answers.

"I...can't quite recall what I said in that letter." She began. "I told you about the fight, didn't I? Between Braeburn and I? And...how he'd flirted at Fluttershy's wedding?"

Applejack nodded slowly. "I believe ya did."

"Well," Rarity sipped her tea, "it's not like it matters now, but it got me thinking. I couldn't remember seeing Flim at the party. And the truth is I didn't. " She shrugged.  "Silly really, because as it turns out, I talked to him. And when I wrote you that letter, I remembered when.  It was during the square dancing. Flim was over next to me, you see. And you were on stage with Soarin. I... I don't remember you dancing with any other stallion than him, Applejack."

The dishevled mare lifted her head, reluctantly meeting her friend's eyes.

"You never fell in love with Flim, did you?"

Applejack took a deep breath, shaking. "I guess I got some explaining to do."

Rarity's eyes burned fiercely, but her tone remained mild. "Please."

The amber mare's lips parted, and there was a moment of silence before her voice found its way out. "I didn't know anything about what had happened until Applebloom started talkin' to me again. Well, she wrote me a letter anyway. And in it she talked  'bout somethin' Sweetiebelle had told her when we came here to visit ya'll, that Scootaloo had told Sweetiebelle. See, apparently back in Fall, Twilight asked Rainbow to check on me; find out where I was and see if I were doin' ok. Rainbow weren't in the best of spirits with me, and she was mighty busy in any case, so she sent Scootaloo to find out where Flim and I were living, and report back to her about how things were."

Applejack surveyed the ceiling, as if hoping for a wormhole through which to escape the truth. Finding none, she continued anxiously. "Now I'd no idea about any of this - I'm guessin' I were out at some do that day - but when Scootaloo found our house in Atlantic city, she heard a conversation on the second floor and did a little snoopin' at the window. Ya'll know what these younguns are like. And much to her surprise, there was Soarin inside my husband's office, the two of 'em talkin' real seriously. Soarin kept askin' about me, and where I was, and how I was doin', while Flim kept talkin' about the next derby, and how 'profitable an investment' it could prove for his employees if the outcome was the right one. It was a long conversation, I'm given to understand, and Scoots didn't follow a lot of it, but it ended with Soarin sayin' 'fine, I'll do it', then Flim sayin' 'Name your price.' And Soarin sayin' -"

Applejack paused, choking. "'Just ask her if she's happy. Ask her if she wouldn't rather leave.'"

Heaving back her feelings, she continued. "When I received this letter from Applebloom, it was just under a week before the derby. I know my husband's business; I understood what the deal was, unlike the crusaders. I knew that Soarin was gonna take a dive at the derby, that ponies everywhere would lose money to those cads that are my husband and brother-in-law, and Rainbow would know, and her and Soarin would be over. All for the sake of gettin' my no-good, lyin' drunk of a husband to ask me some stupid question." Her voice had turned to a growl of hatred, as if she saw her husband before her rather than Rarity, who was shaking her head unconsciously, because it wasn't just about that.

"And I couldn't let that happen. So I were all in a panic, knowin' I'd no way to contact Soarin, since these wonderbolts get countless letters every day, and even if I could make sure one reached him in some roundabout way, it would never get there in time. I did the only thing I could do. I did it how I'd seen it in my mind's eye for months - myself, the mess, and all the fancy furniture - and I did it all quickly, before I could change my mind. That is, I trashed the house and ran away. I knew the press would be all over the story of how Flim's wife had high-tailed it just before the derby, and I was hopin' the news would reach Soarin, so he'd abandon the deal. I mean how can my husband give me the offer of leavin' him if I've already gone and left? Well, no such luck. Soarin either didn't hear the news, or had other motives, because he went and took a dive anyway. I was in Saddle Francisco when it was announced, having just escaped the authorities. I was starin' out over the Golden Hoof Bridge, and thinking 'bout how I had nothin'. I felt so down-and-out, I nearly threw myself over."

Rarity swallowed,  her hooves now numb from their prolonged contact with the hot mug of tea. "Soarin and Rainbow have left Cloudsdale, Applejack. Twilight wrote to me not long ago, telling me they'd gone, after buying Sweet Apple Acres and giving it back to your family."

Applejack nodded. "I saw it in the papers on my way here. I reckon Flim offered to sell Soarin the acres as an alternative payment for the dive, now that I was long gone. Amidst my husband's cheating ways, he has a perverse sense of honesty." She chuckled quietly.  "I guess Soarin and I should look on the bright side, at least something useful came of our crazy feats."

Rarity abruptly slammed her mug down. "For goodness sake Applejack, don't you dare smile." She said quietly. "Why would you deny yourself like that? Shame on you, you stupid mare. You had true love and you went and married that tyrant. How dare you do that to yourself, and everypony who loves you."

She caught her breath, paced, and pointed furiously to the kitchen window. "There is a stallion just out there who hates my guts, who despises me so much that the thought of touching me again would probably make him sick. He'd do every mare in this town before laying a hoof on his wife, and you had a stallion miles away who would have given up his career just to give you a slice of what you deserved. Well I hope you're happy, because he's gone. Rainbow's intent on starting a family with him. You'll probably never see him again."

"And what would you have done?" Applejack snapped. "Sat pretty while countless ponies lost their livelihoods because of him? Because of - me? And don't ya go giving me hell about my marriage, I agreed to it trying to save my farm." She added, her voice winded,  "I couldn't let myself have him, Rarity."

"You think you're that expendable?" Rarity burst out.  "Why won't you realise you're important, Applejack? Far more important than a slim chance of saving a farm, or a relationship that's doomed anyway. Rainbow is a beautiful, magnificent mare, but Soarin will spend the rest of his life wishing she was you. Neither of them deserve that."

Applejack shook her head. "You're wrong. Ya think Soarin would have taken a dive for next to nothing if he still cared about being a wonderbolt? Ya think he would have looked at me like that a year ago if I hadn't been a farm mare showin' him a different way to live? Rainbow can make Soarin happy. She can be all that I was, and more. Look at us. This time last year we had nothing in common, and now all that's different is that horn of yours. " A bittersweet smile shone through her suffering. "Ya shouldn't underestimate us ponies, Rarity."

There was a gasp from the back porch, and both mares turned to see Braeburn. His face was warped by emotion behind a layer of dust.

"Hey cuz..." Applejack whispered.

Braeburn walked stiffly towards his cousin. His eyes never left her face, but the entirety of her ghastly state had instantly registered in them.

There was a fraction of a second between the touching of their noses and the violent ensnarement of their hooves. And then, to Rarity's astonishment, Applejack had burst into tears, and her sobs were not those of a respectable lady or a proud farmer, but the loud, selfish sobs of any mare mourning for herself after a month-long nightmare alone on the road, the crowning glory of her tragic fate.

"Stupid, stupid girl..." Braeburn murmured, his voice cracking. "Why didn't you tell me..."

It wasn't a question that required an answer; Applejack could form no words in any case.

Rarity just sat with her head in her hooves, respectfully avoiding their eyes. When the doorbell chimed again, she was grateful for the distraction.

"Oh who could that be..." She croaked, knowing her voice wouldn't be heard.

She regretted opening the door before she had finished doing so, and Applejack barked futilely "don't!" a split second before she saw why. Flim was standing before her, his unfathomable eyes peeking out from the brim of his fedora, and his jaw parted in wry expectancy. A glance behind him confirmed for Rarity the presence of every gangster within a mile of Appleloosa, as well as an additional throng drafted in, no doubt, for the purpose of this confrontation. All were conspicuously armed with rifles; they levitated next to those with horns, and were tucked under the wings of the pegasi. Behind this dormant line, a few Appleloosan citizens stood sparsely, not even daring to gossip. Nopony wanted to draw the attention of these visitors.

"Evening Rarity." The stallion said, as though he'd come by for tea. Without the gangsters, this might have been plausible. They were family, after all.

"What do you want?" She snapped, her confidence only coming with the anger she felt at herself.

"Well, I caught wind that my wife had come by here. I've come to take her home."

"Well she has no intention of accompanying you." Rarity managed, quickly returning her attention to Flim after falling prey to the menacing sneers of his company. Against her better judgement she added, "Don't you owe it to all the ponies you've defrauded to at least leave your poor wife alone?"

Flim's head snapped up. He looked about briefly, and leaned in close to Rarity. "My my, you've been rather generously informed. No doubt with a fair few embellishments." He sighed. "You're a smart girl Rarity, so I won't beat about the bush. Nopony forced Soarin to indulge my little business request. He did it entirely of his own accord, and I thanked him deservingly with the offer of one of our most prosperous farms. That score has been settled, and Soarin has taken leave of us satisfied. And so I have come for my wife, to whom I owe nothing but the promises of my marriage vows."

Rarity shook stiffly. "You don't know what a marriage is."

Rarity heard hooves behind her, no doubt Braeburn walking away, because when she followed Flim's gaze, Applejack was standing there alone in the centre of the dining room, staring past Rarity into the eyes of her husband.

"Ah. There you are, Jacqueline."

Applejack shook her head slowly. "Ain't no Jacqueline here."

Flim blinked, and his eyes darkened. "Come now, sweetheart. Don't take that tone. It never does you any favours. We're going home, the easy way or the hard way. I would much prefer the former, but as ever the decision is yours. Don't break my heart, Jacqueline. I couldn't bear to see our wonderful family destroyed because of your obstinacy."

"Can you really duel, Flim?"

Flim turned sharply to see Braeburn emerge from the dining area with Brenda and Marilyn under his front hooves.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard. You, me; one on one. All or nothin'. A duel, a gamble, seems right up your street." His eyes narrowed.

"Or are you a fake like you dared call my grandpappy?"

"Braeburn no!" Applejack spluttered, but a look from her cousin silenced her. It was a look she knew well of his: that of absolute resolution. Rarity recognised it too; it was the look he'd given her when she'd attempted to converse with him after Pinkie left, or tried to convince him it wasn't worth covering the well.

The townsponies were now whispering frantically, and even the protection stallions broke their stoic formation to exchange a few indiscreet words. It was rural tradition never to turn down a duel. Of course these were stallions accustomed to the corruption of the city, to Flam's drug market and Flim's racketeering. They did not expect Flim to honour it.

Flim swallowed. "Is that an official challenge?"

Braeburn snarled, and tossed one of the muskets at the unicorn's hooves.

Flim gazed at it for a moment, eying the prospect on the horizon, and in no hurry to get there. Then he suddenly turned his head and barked at the uneasy gangsters. "Boys - disperse!" The stallions exchanged a few wary glances, then slowly began to wander in separate directions. None of them had anywhere to go.

Flim turned back to Braeburn, and slowly levitated the musket before him. "Well then, cousin. If that is your wish, then kindly step outside, and we will settle this."

Braeburn nodded, kissing Applejack on the head, before ambling towards the front door, his musket tucked  awkwardly under one hoof. Rarity stepped back numbly to let him pass.

And he did, but not before turning to face his wife, and showing her everything she had to lose. Two eyes and a heart full of unrefined love. That and a substance at his core that throbbed like the stuff at hers, as they'd clumsily gone about loving each other without being able to compromise who they were. And then he kissed her, before she could doubt that it was all worth it, or wonder for the millionth time if this was the best they could have done. When they parted lips, none of that mattered, because he was still her husband, and her loving cousin Applejack was standing at her side when they watched him follow Flim across the porch.

                                                                                         The End