Applejack didn't get sick. Pinkie knew this as a fact. She knew it like she knew Granny Smith made the bestest, most crispy apple pies in Equestria. She knew it like she knew her niece was the most adorable filly that had ever lived.
She had lived with Applejack for twenty five years, through baked bads, through allergy seasons, through strain after strain of hay fever, even through that outbreak of the cantering cough, and Applejack had never so much as had a runny nose. 'Too stubborn to let a few little germs stop me,' she had once said, and it was true. Applejack was way tougher than any cough.
So why wasn't she getting out of bed now? Why was she shivering like she was trapped in the freezer with the ice cream, even though she was in her room with two extra blankets on her and it was summer outside? Why didn't she even put up a fight when Pinkie told her she was running to get the doctor? Applejack hated seeing the doctor. She always ate at least two apples a day, just to be sure.
Doctor Stable pulled his stethoscope out of his ears to cast a look at the nervously bouncing mare trying to peek over his shoulder. “Would you like to wait outside?” It was one of those questions that wasn't really a question, but an order.
Pinkie nodded and stood out in the hallway, pulling the bedroom door shut behind her. She could hear some of Doctor Stable's questions as he sat by Applejack's bed: “How long have you had the symptoms? When was your last checkup? When I say so, breathe for me.” But Applejack's responses were too quiet for her to hear. After a while, the doctor got quiet too, and Pinkie couldn't hear him without pressing her ear to the door. She really wanted to know what he was saying, but pressing her ear to the door would be a little like sneaking, and Applejack didn't like it when Pinkie sneaked.
So she scooted far enough away from the door to keep from being tempted, and she waited. She waited for what felt like a long time, but then, time gets all stretchy when you want to press your ear to a door but know you shouldn't. Finally, the door opened and Doctor Stable stepped out. Pinkie looked up at him expectantly, but he just nodded politely and headed down the stairs.
Pinkie crept back into the bedroom. Were Applejack's eyes always so baggy? It looked like she could fit a whole other pair of eyes under there. She made eye-contact, and gave her a smile. “Hey.”
“Hey,” Applejack replied. She wiped her muzzle with a hoof.
Pinkie sat down on the edge of the bed. “W—” Her voice did a funny croaking thing, and she had to swallow before speaking. “...What did the doctor say?”
Applejack turned her head to stare out the window. Her chest shook with a cough. “Doc says... Doc says it's just a cold.” She turned and gave Pinkie a smile. “A little bit of bed-rest, an' I'll be right as rain.”
Pinkie squeezed Applejack's hoof, breathing a tiny little sigh of relief. Maybe Applejack did get sick a little bit, sometimes. But she never, ever lied.