An Old Apple Friend

Cookie woke to the sound of a roosters call, his eyes slowly and lazily opened, and were instantly attacked by the harsh sunlight sneaking in through the gap in the curtain.  The room laid still; No dust in the light, no clutter on the floor, and nothing out of place. The only thing that was different to when he first closed his eyes in that bed, was the filly wrapped in his hoofs.  Applebloom was still clung to his chest, her mouth agape, and her main drooping over her eyes. Lying in the bed, holding Applebloom like a new born foal, the only thought that creeped from the back of Cookies mind was ‘this is the only female I’ve slept with in years'. He quickly relised what weird thought had just passed in his head. He shook off that thought ‘N-Not that way’ he repeated in his head. He proceeded to unlock his legs from around Bloom, and move her hoof, giving his space and freedom to move without waking her up. He was rusty with trying not wake her, clearly, his previous weird thought was true.

He sat on the corner of the bed, looking at the floor, trying to regain some composure from that sleep, which was the most comfortable sleep he’d had since he was shipped out months ago. But he couldn’t stay there; he got on all fours and walked to his duffle bag, picking up a brush and some moisturizer. He slowly and quietly walked to the door, Opening it caused, once again, the dust in the room to take off, and swim around the room in the morning sun like a ballet in the spotlight. He walked to the bathroom with the brush and moisturizer and stopped at the door, he looked around the hallway and knocked on the bathroom door.

No answer.

He opened the door to the bathroom, creaking, like all the other doors in that house. He walked in,opened the moisturizer and applied it to his newest collection of scars, as instructed to by his doctor, his face cringed up, it wasn’t the easiest thing to do, but it would be a hell of a lot more painful if he didn’t do it. After that painful self-appliance was done, he went on to do his mane and coat with the brush, an idol process which he did as much as possible. In his mind, presentation was the majority importance in his life, next to success, efficiency, self-reliance, his service and his leadership. Without his officers’ cap and his tags, he was no pony out there, just another stallion. He couldn’t live life without the service anyway, whatever his rank be, that’s all he knew, and all he was good for.

He stood there looking in the mirror on the wall, examining himself. He wasn’t proud of what he saw; scars, age, battle use and emotional pain, all the things he’d see, all the ponies he once knew, all the chances he’s taken wrongly, all just part of him now, it had been a part of him for years, and yet he still didn’t accept it, it wasn’t who he wanted to be, a fault.

He opened and spread his wings, his tools, his weapons, his talent, the things that gave him purpose. They too had taken their toll; flying the way he did, and where he did, had caused some… problems, and because of those problems. The majority of his dominant primary feathers in his right wing were artificial, and had been since an untimely accident when he was just a Flight Sergeant, he managed to fly just fine with them though, even though he didn’t like to fly when not needed to.

Each time he thought of his past, he thought of work, of the Royal Pegasus Guard, not of fun times with friends, but of papers, and conferences, and battlegrounds, and training, and sacrifice…

“Thanks for these memories” he said under his breath, as silently as he could, almost trying to keep it to himself, from his former self anyway.

That’s where he cut himself off from his trail of thoughts; he didn’t want to think about that right now. Now he was here, in the comfort of his friends. He wanted to get away from his bad thoughts.

His self-discussion was interrupted by a knock at the door

“You nearly done?” Boomed the voice of Applejack.

Cookie smiled, her voice perking up his mood, as he remembers why he’s really here. He walked over to the door and fully opens it “all yours” He said confidently.

“Oh, mornin' sugarcube” She said

“Morning” He came back at her.

“Sorry, thought Mac was in there, breakfast is almost ready, do you wanna grab a chair at the table downstairs?”

Cookie thought for a second. He was hungry, again, taste didn’t matter, he didn’t have the appetite for it, but if he wanted to work, he had to eat, force himself to eat more like. “Sure, thanks AJ”. He walked out of the bathroom.

“uh” she said with a curious voice “no problem hun” she walked passed him, walking the opposite direction into the

bathroom “See ya down there” she shut the door, with the same creak than when he opened it.

Cookie couldn’t help but smile like a dope at the door, he was overwhelmed by her kindness and insistency.  Even in that brief interaction. He escaped that deep escapade of a thought and went downstairs as instructed.