The farm is drenched in sunlight and the trees are crowded with apples. She should be out submerged in the smell of fruit and the shadows of leaves, somewhere on one of the furthest corners of the farm, kicking at trunks until her hooves begin to bleed and she grudgingly returns to the house. She knows she should be. She’s never known anything else.
Instead she sits in a fancy store, filled with lacy dresses and luxuries, where she’s afraid to touch things or be anything less than perfectly clean or say something out-of-place.
She carries apples in her saddlebags. She’d planned on making them a gift, but in hindsight it seems cheap, dull.
‘Applejack. The tea’s ready.’
‘Ah,’ she says. She can’t think of anything else to say. Ah isn’t a lie or a truth. It’s a placeholder, just a meaningless noise. It unnerves her deeply, and she scrambles to say something, anything else, blurting out ‘I hate tea.’
Rarity looks injured for a moment, then understanding crosses her face and she lowers her teacup. ‘No, you don’t.’
‘Y-yes, I do.’ If she mentions that she does like it, then Rarity will laugh at her for her simpleminded honesty, they’ll take advantage of her, trick them stay one step ahead she’s smarter than them and she’ll laugh in their faces as she turns grey and a true creature of the glorious chaos-
‘It’s a lie, Applejack.’
Yes. It is. Applejack struggles to say something, then realizes her mouth is scrunched up and distorted. The lying face, the bad face. She mumbles, ‘I like tea,’ and it feels like a relief.
‘Yes.’ Rarity says, and smiles. Applejack hadn’t even notice how serious her face had grown, but now that she’s smiling again she looks like herself. It’s more reassuring than anything. ‘So do I.’
‘So, uh… you going to give me some?’ Both of the teacups are enveloped in Rarity’s magic, and at Applejack’s words the blue grows thicker, less transparent, more powerful. The unicorn’s eyes narrow.
Applejack doesn’t need another moment to know what’s going on. She’s prepared for it. ‘You made that for me.’ She hates how pushy and demanding and childish she has to be to snap Rarity out of it. ‘You were going to give it to me.’
Rarity mouths Mine, but her eyes have some understanding in them, beneath the hostility, and the magic flickers before growing even stronger, and her eyelids flicker closed briefly.
‘Rarity,’ she says quietly. ‘It’s not yours.’
Rarity nods shakily, and exhales, and she sets the cup down on the table. Tea sloshes over the side, but Applejack pretends not to notice.
‘We’re so pathetic,’ Rarity mumbles after a moment, and Applejack laughs unexpectedly, and agrees.
_
‘It must’ve been hard getting that away from Twilight,’ she says, flicking her tail at the book.
Rarity says, ‘Not really. It was getting myself from her that was hard.’ There is laughter in her voice. ‘She was so eager to share her interests. Gave me a long lecture on her favourite stars and the best telescopes and places to look out. Are we there yet?’
‘Not quite yet.’
The orchard is darkened and the sun is setting, and they walk amongst the shadows. Applejack can’t bring herself to look at Rarity. She’s almost grey in the darkness. It hurts too much, and it stirs up memories and thoughts of things whispered by apples.
Applejack steps between two trees, and smiles slightly; the sky is huge and sprawling, dusted with layer upon layer of stars, and the grass is pale in the moonlight, and the wind is cutting and cool and tastes of ice and light. She hears Rarity’s little gasp behind her, and smiles; it’s stereotypical and fluffy, and if Rainbow found out she had arranged this she’d never hear the end of it, but she had known Rarity would love it.
‘Ohh, this was worth the walk,’ the unicorn says, turning slowly, her gaze not moving from the sky. ‘This- this is just breathtaking.’ She is bright and pale, like the stars she’s transfixed by. There is not a hint of grey on her anywhere. This place is right, everything’s right here, and Applejack can look at her again.
The words it’s hideous are on her tongue, and so are the words you’re hideous, but she bites them back. Says nothing at all, because she doesn’t think she can actually say what she wants to say, and if she doesn’t say that then it will be lies, and everything will be over.
‘I can’t believe your orchard goes this far,’ Rarity says, almost breaking her neck trying to take in the whole sky at once. ‘Surely you can’t harvest this many apples.’
‘A lot just wither and fall, sure,’ Applejack says. ‘It’s tradition, though. It’s all ours, and it’s always been used for apples. The family was a lot bigger in Granny Smith’s day. And my parents.’
Rarity smiles, but it looks somewhat insincere. ‘Your parents. Yes.’
‘They’re famous explorers,’ Applejack says too quickly. Ponies always get this way when she mentions her parents, they don’t understand that she’s fine about it now, they have no idea how completely absolutely fine she is. ‘Adventurers. Just busy. Away from home.’
Rarity is staring at the ground now.
Panic wells up inside her. ‘It’s the truth,’ she says frantically. ‘No, really, it is. I-I’m surprised you haven’t heard of them, they’ve been to a lot of places outside Equestria, discovered things, done so many things-‘
Help me.
Rarity can’t have heard her plea, but she says ‘Applejack.’
That one word is enough to still her tongue, to calm her mind, to steady her breathing (not entirely but almost). ‘That’s a lie,’ Applejack says. The words hurt to say, but they help.
Rarity smiles hesitantly at her. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘No. No, don’t be.’ Applejack sits, partly because she wants to lie down and take in the sky, and partly because her legs are beginning to shake and she doesn’t think she can actually stand up anymore. ‘It’s fine. Thank you.’
Rarity sits beside her, and lets herself fall backwards with a giddy, excitable little giggle. ‘Oh, it’s just so gorgeous.’
‘Daah-ling,’ Applejack says, in a lofty and terrible impersonation of her friend.
‘Oh, that was stunningly accurate.’ Rarity spreads her hooves, flicking her mane out of the way. ‘Why, if I couldn’t see you, I’d swear I was being accosted by myself.’
‘You just know you’d faint in delight and ambush yourself squealing,’ Applejack says, lying back beside her. However many times she’s taken in this sky, it never grows dull or less spectacular. ‘You’re being awful relaxed tonight, y’know.’
Rarity stills beside her. ‘What… what do you mean by that?’
‘Well. You’re lying on the ground, outside, on a hill covered in trees. And you’re not panicking about impurities entering your pores or… dirt staining your coat…’ She grows painfully aware that she’s said something wrong.
‘I thought that was what you wanted.’ Rarity’s voice is louder than it was before. ‘You’re always complaining about my liking for the proper order of things, and the fact that I maintain a healthy and beneficial lifestyle with indoor comforts, and, and you look down on those things, and yet the moment I try to act more like you, you start… I’m sorry.’ The anger leaves her tone as suddenly as it had come.
‘Why?’
‘You’re right.’ Rarity does not take her eyes off the sky. ‘I am being relaxed. It’s not as bad as I thought it would be. Look at the stars, Applejack.’
‘I am-‘
‘Look at them.’
Obediently, Applejack rolls back over onto her back, stretching her eyes wider. ‘Okay. Okay. I’m looking at them.’
‘Thank you.’ Rarity says. And then ‘Cover my eyes, would you?’
‘What?’
‘Please.’
Applejack doesn’t move. ‘Why would I do that?’
‘I keep thinking they’re mine,’ Rarity says after a moment. Applejack knows she’s telling the truth. ‘Please.’
Clumsily, she reaches out with one hoof and settles it so that it nestles against the curve of her muzzle, blocking her eyes. She can feel Rarity’s breath against it, and it makes her shiver.
‘There,’ Rarity says. ‘They’re all yours.’
_
Rarity decides to sleep on the sofa. It’s old and worn and it had a number of blankets thrown over it. The fire in the other room throws flickering light against one of the walls, and there is the smell of Big Macintosh’s baking still in the air. She loves Applejack’s house, more than she would ever admit. It has the feeling of home about it, in a way that only her inspiration room comes close to, even if the flecks of dirt on the floor make her flinch and she’s certain that the roof leaks and that there are things breaking or rotting or rusty in the structure and the walls. She loves it regardless.
She doesn’t know why Applejack asked her to stay, but she thinks she works it out when she hears the scream.
Tossing aside her blankets, she leaps off the sofa and charges up the stairs, stumbling slightly- she’s not very used to them. Applejack’s scream is muffled and warped by what sounds like a blanket she’s pulling over her mouth, and Rarity strains to hear words in it- name is Cherry live live in the city Canterlot and I have wings- She throws the door that she knows leads to Applejack’s room, and, slowing her pace, steps inside.
‘-my wings are so pretty and I hate apples, I have a cutie mark for burning things I ain’t got a cutie mark I don’t know what a cutie mark is I hate my friends I ain’t got friends I’m in the middle of the ocean I’m drowning and dead-‘
Rarity throws open the curtains, casting her friend in moonlight. She writhes in agony, her mouth twisting and gasping for breath and screaming, her coat growing grey, her eyes unblinking and staring at the ceiling. ‘I’m fine,’ Applejack screeches, ‘And I’m fine I’m fine I’m fine I’m fine I’m fine-‘
She leans in closer, ignoring the hooves flailing against her. ‘You’re Applejack,’ she says urgently, quietly. ‘You’re in your bedroom, in Sweet Apple Acres. Ponyville. Equestria. Discord is gone. And you are the Element of Honesty.’
Her hooves slow, just a little, and she says ‘Applejack.’
Rarity repeats the mantra.
She lowers her hooves. ‘Right,’ she says quietly, and hugs the blanket closer to her. And then she says, ‘I’m fine.’
Rarity’s smile almost hurts her face. ‘You’re more than fine,’ she says, and wants to hug her (or something anyway) and never let go. ‘All right?’
‘Yeah,’ Applejack says. Her breathing is still shallow and quick. ‘Thank you, Rarity. I mean it.’
‘It’s not a problem,’ Rarity says quietly.
‘No,’ she says. ‘It is.’
Rarity just looks at her.
‘It’s- it’s just- stupid,’ she mumbles. ‘I’m pathetic.’
What she said yesterday seems less funny, in the dead of the night, with Applejack shaking violently and almost chewing her own hooves off. ‘You most decidedly are not. You’re coping better than I am.’
‘You don’t wake up screaming,’ Applejack says.
‘I still get… I still am… I see things and I have to have them, I don’t think about it, nopony else can even glance at them. I don’t even realize I’m doing it. I stole one of those apples you brought to my boutique,’ she says. ‘Sorry about that.’
‘They were for you anyway.’
‘And then I took your hat, briefly, earlier tonight,’ Rarity says. ‘I gave it right back as soon as I was in my right mind, of course. I can’t ask you to separate from your hat.’
‘Oh, Rarity,’ Applejack says, ‘you’ve got a real problem.’
Rarity glances over at her, then rolls her eyes. ‘Right. Sarcasm.’ She’s wary about her friend speaking like that; she thinks it might count as lying, in some mild way.
‘So, uh… D’you want an apple?’ In one fluid motion, Applejack rolls over and opens a drawer of her delicately painted bedside table.
She hears the sound of round fruits rolling around, inside the flimsy wood drawer, and snorts lightly. ‘You keep apples in your bedroom?’
‘Um. Eeeyup. I’m an addict, you have to admit.’ She returns with two clenched in her mouth, and sets them both on the bed, shuffling away her hooves. ‘Okay, Golden Delicious, or Pink Lady?’
Rarity smiles slightly as she reaches forward to take the yellowish apple. ‘You knew which one I’d choose.’
‘You suggesting I’m so pathetic as to memorize my friend’s favourite apple?’ Rarity smiles at this and starts to reply, but her attention is abruptly jerked away from her as Applejack reaches forward to take the other apple.
Applejack meets her eyes seriously. She planned this, Rarity thinks, and hisses inadvertently. ‘Mine.’
‘No.’ She draws the apple back, and hardly flinches as Rarity’s hoof pins down hers.
‘Give it to me,’ Rarity says coldly, her thoughts beginning to untangle, grey seeping in around the edges.
‘Rarity,’ she says. ‘It’s rightful mine.’
‘No.’ She thinks of that huge diamond, the most gorgeous thing she’s ever seen, the light reflecting off of it, the light that’s cleansing her mind of all structure and selflessness, returning her to the way she is best off. ‘It’s mine.’ Her voice is harsher, and her accent’s slipping slightly.
‘Rarity-‘ Applejack draws her hoof back, and Rarity panics and strikes out wildly, hitting her hard. The earth pony falls back onto the bed with a slight whimper of pain, while Rarity shakes her head frantically and combs the blankets for the apple, she has to find it, it has to be hers, under Discord’s rule there is no law or order and it is everypony for herself, she’s getting whatever she can get and Applejack can lie all she likes, they have to keep themselves safe, it’s the only way they will survive the glorious birth of Chaos-
‘And we will be blessed in the utopia of madness,’ Applejack’s voices says, but it’s distorted, and just sounds off enough for Rarity to realize it isn’t her friend, she knows that voice, she treasures that voice- she still hasn’t found the apple, where’s the apple, she has to have the apple-
‘I’m so sorry, Rarity,’ Applejack’s saying, the real Applejack, so much more distant than the fake voice, ‘That was stupid, I should’ve taken your word for it, I don’t know why- please-‘
Rarity tosses the blanket in her general direction, her hooves desperately seeking the apple, she can’t really see anything anymore-
Applejack throws her backwards, and the room snaps back into focus. Her purple mane is mussed, and her friend’s mouth is bleeding, and her horn stops glowing, and the blankets fall back onto the bed, a single apple dropping out of them.
Rarity feels like crying, or never getting up again.
‘I’m sorry,’ she says, and wants to say it over and over again until the words lose their meaning. 'Oh, Applejack, I'm so-'
'No,' Applejack says. She's not meeting her eyes. 'I'm sorry. I was just- I wanted to, you know, see if you could... make sure you were... oh, that sounds so damn stupid.'
'Do you think of Discord?' Rarity asks abruptly. 'When it happens to you?'
Applejack shivers. 'I- I don't really want to discuss this-'
'Of course,' Rarity says too quickly, nervously. 'That's fine. Stupid thing to ask about.'
'Yes,' she says. 'Yes I do.'
'Ah,' says Rarity, and she can't think of anything else to say.
The moonlight is just as bright as it was out on the edge of the orchard. Applejack is brilliant orange under it, and there is not a trace of grey anywhere.
Later she won't be able to remember who leaned in first, but she will be glad they did.
It's not the first time they've kissed, but it's the first time it hasn't been impulsive, angry, the first time they've had some sort of understanding, the first time it's ever meant something.
It means a lot more than just something.
