Growing Pains

"I'm so sorry, Cheerilee. It ain't gonna happen again."

"I should hope not," the teacher answered as she turned her frown to Apple Bloom. "I expected better of you."

"So did I," Applejack said with a matching expression. Her sister shrank a little under the adults' glare. "You were raised better'n that! What d'you have to say for yerself, huh?"

Biting her lip, Apple Bloom tried to straighten her back, and after a few moments she blurted "But she... she deserved it, AJ!"

"Nopony deserves to be hit in the face like that," Cheerliee said sternly.

"I didn't hit her! I slapped her! It's different!" she protested. "It didn't even leave a mark!"

Applejack sighed and rubbed her forehead. "Bloom, couldja... couldja maybe go get me a glass of water? The sun was real killer on the way over."

Her ears flopped down as she hung her head, but she mumbled "Okay" and shuffled out of the room, letting Applejack close the door behind her. Once she was gone, Applejack groaned and stretched out her back with a few audible pops. "Y'mind if I sit down, Cheerilee? I'm carryin' quite a load here."

"Oh! Of course not. Please," she said as she rose from the large padded chair, "make yourself at home."

She watched as Applejack carefully eased herself back into the seat, shifting to and fro before she found a comfortable position; sitting slouched back like Lyra did look awkward, but it took the heavy weight of her belly off of her spine. "Ah, much better. Thanks."

Cheerilee put a hoof on her shoulder. "I'm so sorry to have called you in, Applejack, but---"

"Nah, I'm the one who should be sorry. I jes' don't know what got into her!"

"Neither do I," she said as she shook her head. "She's never lashed out like this before."

"Well..." Applejack looked away, her face flushed a little. "She, uh, she was the last to hear about the baby, an' she ain't been takin' it too well."

"I see."

"That ain't an excuse, mind you," she added quickly.

"Of course not, Applejack," Cherrilee said, and moved her hoof a little lower down her foreleg. "Um, this might not be appropriate, but would you mind if I...?"

Applejack laughed when she saw the magenta hoof hovering over the swell of her belly. "Ah, go ahead! Most ponies don't even bother askin'---they jes' come up and start rubbin' me."

She smiled as she pressed the underside of her hoof against Applejack's coat. "That must be annoying."

"You have no idea. I feel like I'm in a pettin' zoo." She smirked. "Now I think I know how zebras feel when ponies touch their manes."

"What do you do when they invade your space like that?"

Applejack smiled as Cheerilee rubbed little circles against her. "If it's a mare doin' it, I rub her right back. If it's a stallion, I tell him he ain't allowed to touch it if he ain't the one who put it there."

Cheerilee's nervous laugh was cut off by Apple Bloom bumping the door open with her flank. "Here's yer drink, AJ," she said, splashing a little on her forehead as she trotted over. "I used a glass from the cafeteria... hope that's okay, Miss Cheerilee."

"Of course it is."

The water was tepid, but it still felt wonderfully soothing as it went down her dry throat.

"So, uh... am I in trouble?" she asked.

"You bet you are." With a groan, Applejack pushed herself out of the chair and got to her hooves. "We're gonna have a long talk on the way home."

"Okay," she said with a pout.

Apple Bloom kept her head low as she shuffled out of Cheerilee's office. She normally had to trot to keep up with her sister, but Applejack wasn't moving as fast as she used to. The very thought made her sigh. It wasn't as if the filly had never seen a pregnant mare before, but seeing that distended belly on her own kin was upsetting. Threatening, even. She'd always been the baby.

"Well, missy, you better have a good explanation fer what you did," Applejack said without looking back.

"Silver Spoon's a bitch! That's yer explanation!"

She immediately clapped a hoof over her own mouth, but instead of a reprimand, she got a chuckle.

"I know that, Bloom. Heck, everypony knows that. But that ain't a good enough reason to smack
her in the face."

"But, Applejack, she called you a whore!" she yelled, on the brink of tears. "She said yer like a train that anypony could ride!"

Applejack stopped short. "What?!"

Wiping at her moist eyes, she went on: "She, she even said I'm probably yer daughter and you went an' covered it up!"

"Apple Bloom," she said as evenly as she could manage, "Y'know that ain't true. We're sisters."

"I know! But---but--- I jes' got so mad I slapped her! I wasn't thinkin'!" She slumped down on her haunches. "It hurt so bad t'hear..."

She put a hoof on her shoulder. "Hey. Y'ever heard 'Sticks and stones may break my bones'..."

"Yeah," she said dejectedly.

"Well, whoever wrote that stupid lil' poem had his head stuck for far up his own butt he can see what he had fer breakfast."

Apple Bloom looked up in surprise.

"Listen, Bloom," she said as she pulled her sister close, "I know words can hurt. But y'can't go resortin' to violence when they do."

She began to sniffle. "Are ya mad at me?"

"No. I'm disappointed, but I ain't mad." Applejack sighed and put her chin on Apple Bloom's head, right on the knot of her bow. She knew it would catch up to her sister someday, but she wasn't about to tell her about the stares, the whispers, the outright hostility she herself had been facing for the past few months. She just hoped the rumours of the foal's sire hadn't yet gotten around to the younger generation. "There's a lotta small-minded ponies out there who'll say nasty stuff, but y'gotta learn to let it go."

"But..."

"Now, yer gonna calm yerself down, and then march right over to Silver Spoon's house and apologize."

"But she started it!"

Applejack pulled out of the hug and smiled. "And yer gonna say 'I'm sorry fer how I responded to yer rudeness. Next time I'll use my words instead a' my hoof'."

Apple Bloom blinked a few times, the tears clearing out of her eyes, and then grinned. "You got it, sis!"

With a swat on her flank, she said "An' you hurry back home, now! Big MacIntosh's makin' dinner."

She watched as her little sister trotted off, her head held higher than Applejack's own. She looked over at Mane Street, and then to the dusty trail that lead around the outskirts of Ponyville. It was probably best to take the long way home; she didn't want anypony to see her crying.

***

She'd barely gotten the front door open when Winona nearly bowled her over, yapping and lathering her face with dog drool.

"Whoa! Easy there, girl!" Applejack laughed and rubbed her hoof through the scruffy brown coat. "I was only gone a little while!"

She was surprised when her dog bolted away and made a beeline for the nearest tree; she squatted and let loose a stream of piss she'd obviously been holding for awhile.

That's odd, she thought. Big MacIntosh was supposed to let her out over an hour ago.

"Howdy! I'm back!" she called into the house. "Y'forgot to let Winona out, ya big knucklehead!"

The only sounds were Granny's snoring and the ticking of the clock.

"Hello? Anypony home?" She trotted into the kitchen, unconsciously chewing on her bottom lip. She couldn't quite tell what it was, but something felt... off. Since it was his turn to make dinner, she decided to look for him in the kitchen, following what seemed like the lingering smell of cooking. "Mac, are..."

Applejack froze in the kitchen doorway. A couple of pizza boxes were on the table---and her brother never, ever resorted to serving his family fast food when he'd promised to cook. A little prickle of worry started working its way up her back when she noticed a folded note on top of one of the boxes, next to a small pile of bits.

She unfolded the little slip of paper and frowned. The terse message only made her worry grow:

Sorry about dinner. Something came up. I'll be back in a day or so. Here's money to hire help until I get back.

She flipped it over, but that's all he wrote. The writing was sloppy---even for an Earth pony---and he hadn't bothered to sign it.

"What kind of rush was he in?" she mumbled.

Cold fear suddenly stabbed her like a dagger. Her brother was not the type to just abandon his responsibilities and go running off on a whim, unless---Applejack grimaced. Unless something really important happened. And he wrote that he'd be gone for at least a day, meaning he was now probably well on his way to another town.

Her legs began to shake as the pieces fell together. He hadn't quite been himself since the beginning of her pregnancy, and the sulking wasn't the worst part; he'd been spending at least an hour every night obsessively writing letters, and refusing to tell her what they were about. Now he was gone, on some apparently urgent business---

She was at a full gallop before she even realized it, head down and her ears blowing back into her mane as she charged toward the barn. "He didn't!" she panted. "No way! He wouldn't really---!"

Her heart plummeted when she kicked the barn door open.

There were two empty hooks and a dusty outline where the shotgun used to be.

***

"Can I help you, sir?" the receptionist said with a practiced sweetness.

"Eeyup." He approached the counter, easily looking over it. "I'm lookin' for a guest here. Got a message for him. Goes by the name of Flim."

"Just a moment, please."

As she flipped through the guestbook, Big MacIntosh glanced over his shoulder. He was glad he'd gotten here late; the lobby was empty save for himself and some gangly colt pushing a broom. The last thing he needed was a slew of witnesses.

The receptionist tapped her hoof against a page dated a day or two prior. "Yes, he is a guest here. You said you'd like to leave a message for him?"

"What's his room number?"

"Is he expecting you?"

"Uh... nope."

"Well," she said, sliding a clipboard and a quill over to him, "You may write the message here and we'll be sure to get it to him as soon as possible."

"Prefer t'do it face-to-face." He tried not to frown. "It's, uh, personal. What room's he in?"

"The confidentiality of our guests is very important to us," she said smoothly. The smile was still there, but it had tightened. "I assure you nopony will read the message but your friend."

After a moment of silence, he put a hoof on the clipboard and pulled it closer. 'Friend'. Hah! "Sure. Thanks."

"You're very welcome." She went back to polishing the emery board against her already-glossy hooftip.

She didn't look up until the sounds of scribbling and shuffling around ended and he slid the clipboard back to her; when she picked it up, however, she gasped, letting the emery board clatter to the counter. Paper money was rare in Equestria, reserved for higher denominations only. Clipped onto the paper were several bills, under which was written 'Go buy yourself something pretty'.

"I... see," she said slowly. "This is... certainly an interesting message."

"Eeyup."

This time the smile was genuine. "I'll be sure to get it to room 1367 after I get back from the spa."

***

"Apple Bloom, quit pickin' at yer pizza an' eat it," Applejack snapped.

The filly spat another mushroom slice onto the little pile she'd made at the side of her plate. "But I hate mushrooms! Big MacIntosh knows that!"

"I guess he wasn't thinkin' straight," she muttered. Even though she normally hated garlic and raw onion, she was on her seventh slice. The jam she'd spread on top helped a little.

"This ain't right," Granny said. "What coulda possessed him t'jes' take off?"

Applejack quickly took a swig of her milk to avoid having to answer. She hadn't told the rest of her family about the shotgun, and she decided it was best to keep it that way... for now, at least.

"Look," she said after she'd swallowed, "He didn't jes' bolt fer no reason. He thought this through, takin' the time to get us dinner an' leave some bits. I'll go into town first thing tomorrow an' round up some help."

"I don't even like thinkin' about where he is right now," Granny sighed. "I sure hope he ain't doin' somethin' stupid."

You and me both, she thought grimly.

****

The door creaked open and a stallion peered at him over the chain, but... it wasn't the one he was looking for. Just as Big MacIntosh was about to apologize, he heard a voice from inside the room that made his ears flatten against his head.

"Ugh, it's after midnight! Who the hell is knocking at this hour?"

"Uh..." the pegasus at the door was flicking his eyes from the Earth pony's face to the shotgun at his side. "It's a big angry stallion with a gun...?"

"Oh. That's probably for me," Flim said with a surprising ease as he sat up in bed. "Who is he?"

"I don't know," he said, "But he sure looks pissed."

"What else does he look like? C'mon, help me out here." Flim groaned and rubbed his head; this guy may be talented in other respects, but he sure wasn't very bright.

"He's huge, and he has a red coat, a short orange mane, freckles---"

The first jab of fear hit him in the gut. "And he's wearing a wooden work collar, right?"

The pegasus grinned. "Hey, good guess!"

"Shit piss tittyfuck!" Flim began scrambling with the blankets, frantically kicking and bucking; he had no idea how he always got himself so tangled up.

"You know him?"

"Close the door!" he shouted, throwing the coverlet off.

Before he could, one swift kick from Big MacIntosh sent it flying open, snapping the weak chain like a rubber band. The pegasus shrieked and took to the air as the angry stallion below him came stomping in.

Flim grunted as he forced the window open. "You're on your own!" he shouted over his shoulder before looking down at the busy streets below... very, very far below.

"Ugh," he muttered as he slumped back in the room. "'Let's get rooms on the thirteenth floor!' I said. 'It's never crowded on the thirteenth floor!' I said." He turned to the pegasus and began waving. "Hey, wings, help me out here!"

"I have a name," he said indignantly. He was hovering near the ceiling, far enough that Big MacIntosh couldn't reach him; he hadn't noticed yet that the gun-toting stallion underneath him wasn't paying him any attention. "And you were just going to leave me here with this lunatic!"

"I... I knew you could fly to safety," he stammered. It was partially true, but to be honest, he hadn't been thinking that far ahead.

"I can't outfly a bullet, genius!"

"I ain't gonna shoot you," he said as evenly as he could. He was looking across the room at Flim, and he didn't like what he saw; his eyes were darting back and forth, as if he was thinking something up. "He's what I came here for."

"Look, Big... whatever your name is, I did nothing wrong," he said, backing up.

His words came out like thin ice. "You took advantage of my sister when she was drunk."

"Wait, his sister?" That came from the third wheel, who was still staying out of harm's way.

"This is just a misunderstanding," Flim went on without breaking eye contact with Big MacIntosh. He also hadn't stopped scootching backwards. "We were both drunk. She wanted it as much as I did."

"Okay, seriously, what's going on here?"

Flim gritted his teeth. So much for trying ignore the other stallion in the room. "I don't know."

"You got two choices," the Earth pony said. "One, you come with me. Two, you go somewhere that's a lot hotter than it is here."

"You mean Tartarus?"

"Would you shut up?!" Flim shouted as his back hit the corner. "Can't you see this is between the two of us?"

Big MacIntosh now had the barrel of the gun a foot from the cream-coloured muzzle. "Well?"

The pegasus cocked his head down at them both. "Uh, you know murder is illegal, right?"

"Oh, just go!" Flim snapped. "You're a nice fellow, I suppose, but you're about as sharp as a sack of wet mice!"

He gasped, looking far more affronted than he should. "Well, you know what I think?"

"Not much, apparently!"

"I think you're an asshole," he said, moving between Flim and Big MacIntosh. He settled on his hooves and pushed his face up against Flim's. "And I hope he does shoot you! Who is he, anyway? Your husband?"

"Ugh!" Mac winced, but he didn't lower the gun. That was an image that wouldn't soon leave him.

"Oh please. You could do worse than me," Flim snorted. It probably wasn't a good idea to push his luck, but... "Your sister didn't seem to mind."

Had he not still been recoiling from the thought of being married to the stallion he hated most right now, he probably would have pulled the trigger. Instead he cocked the gun and aimed. "About that."

"You know what?" the pegasus said. "This is getting weird. I'm out."

"Thank you," Flim said as he watched him fly off, shaking his head.

"Get up," he said, gesturing with the gun. "Get to yer hooves."

He did, but kept one held up in front of him. "Now, before you think of firing that thing, well, uh, we weren't the only show in town, you know. The Wonderbolts are here too. In this hotel, specifically."

He tried not to smile as he saw the gun lowering an inch. "One shot and they'll be here in a flash. If I'm splattered against the wall, you'll have murder on your hooves. As it is, you have breaking and entering," he added, looking at the broken chain swinging from the door.

The gun lowered another inch, but Flim knew he had to tread carefully. "Now, put the gun down and we'll talk this over, hm? I know you're not big on that, but..."

The gun was back up in a flash. "The second I put this down, I know yer gonna try somethin'," he said. "I saw you schemin' over there."

"Scheming? I wasn't scheming!" he said, trying not to look down the barrel. "I was thinking!"

"About what?"

"Why you're here, for one." He frowned. "I didn't rape her, for Celestia's sake!"

"I know. She told me you didn't."

"Then why are you waving that thing around?"

"Ain't figured it out yet?" he said, nostrils flaring. "Applejack's pregnant."

He blinked. "Wh.... she... ?"

"Pregnant. And it's yours."

At first he thought Flim was rolling his eyes, but then they kept rolling right back up in his head. "Wh... but... I...." The colour drained from his face, and after wobbling back and forth a few times he slumped down bonelessly to the floor.

"Huh," he muttered, unimpressed. He kicked at the unicorn's haunches a couple of times but got no response.

"Hey, you still here?"

Big MacIntosh jumped and turned to the door. The pegasus was back with a sheepish smile.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry for calling you a lunatic. I didn't---oh sweet Celestia, you shot him?!" He blew into the room like a hurricane and landed on top of Flim's uninjured, if unconscious, body. "Oh no! No, no no! I didn't think you'd really do it!"

"I didn't!"

He picked up one of Flim's limp legs and let it flop back down. "Is he dead?!"

Mac looked down at the shotgun, which was devoid of any smoke, up at the clean, bloodless walls, and then back at the unicorn on the floor, who was wheezing lightly through his open mouth. "He fainted," he said flatly.

"Oh." The pegasus chuckled a little as he blushed. "I guess I am a bit of an idiot."

Making Amends

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Applejack hummed to herself as the trotted toward the barn. "How's the haulin' comin', Berry?"

"Very... slowly," she grunted. She'd pulled her mane up into a ponytail, but it was sticking to her neck with sweat. "I don't know how your brother does this every day!"

"Well, he's got ten times yer strength."

"I'd say a hundred." With a heave, she got the last of the hay bales in its place, and slumped back to the dirt floor. "Whew!" she said, wiping her brow. "That good enough, Applejack?"

She eyed the haphazard stack, but it didn't look like it was about to topple. "Sure thing. Say, I was gonna go get us somethin' to drink. Whaddaya fancy?"

Berry pulled the tie out of her mane, and sighed when it popped back up into a frizz. "You have any iced tea?"

Applejack grinned. "Long Island, I take it?"

"Uh, no. Just the regular stuff."

That gave her pause. "Really?"

A little blush stained her cheeks, and Berry scuffed at the dirt. "Uh... listen, do you have a minute?"

"A'course."

"There's something I've been meaning... well, let me show you instead." She trotted to the saddlebags she'd left at the barn door and began rummaging through them.

Applejack laughed. "Berry, the last time you pulled somethin' outta there you were unconscious fer three days."

"That was awhile ago," she said, sliding something across to her. Applejack leaned down and pulled it closer; it was a purple coin with a triangle embossed on it, inside of which was Four Months in blocky script.

Her eyes widened. "Is this what I think it is?!"

"Uh huh," she said with a smile.

"Really? Four months?"

"And a week, two days, and seven hours," she added sheepishly.

"Aw, Berry!" Applejack grabbed her and hugged her hard. "I'm so proud of you!"

She was still smiling, but she turned her head away. "Thanks."

She wanted to say 'I knew you could do it!', but that wouldn't exactly be true. "Was it hard?"

"You have no idea," she sighed. "I'm not even through all the steps."

"Which one are ya on?"

Pulling out of the hug, Berry looked at the ground, then back up, and off to her side. "Actually, Applejack, that's... why I'm here."

"Y'need my help?"

"Sort of. Listen..." She trailed off, still looking away. Finally, after screwing up her courage, she turned back to her friend. "The Ninth Step is, um, is making amends. That's why I offered to help while your brother was away."

"Y'didn't offer. Y'insisted."

"And I'm not taking any payment."

"Berry, I can't let you work all day fer no pay," she said gently. "And why'd you need t'make amends t'me?"

She winced. "Um. Applejack, uh... I... was..."

Applejack just leaned forward, nodding.

"I... I was the one who told everypony about you and Flim," she pushed out in a rush.

In the distance one of the cows lowed. Applejack blinked.

"I didn't mean anything bad by it!" Berry went on. "Really, I didn't! I wasn't thinking! I was drunk, and I liked the attention---"

"You liked the attention?" she said coldly.

"Applejack, I---"

"You think you've been through some tough shit, but you know what I've been goin' through? What my family's been goin' through?" she barked. "My sister's gettin' bullied! I won't even repeat what some ponies've said to my face! D'you know how much our sales dipped this year? Huh? Y'ever think of that?"

Her eyes were filling with tears. "I'm sorry!"

"Yeah, y'sure are!" Applejack gave the stack of hay a rough buck, and the top one fell hard. "You have no idea what kinda humiliation you put me through!"

"I wasn't thinking right at the time, I---"

"Yeah, typical drunk, only thinkin' about yerself!" She pointed at the open doors. "Get off my property!"

Berry opened her mouth, but closed it again and drooped her head. "I'm sorry, Applejack," she whispered as she put her saddlebags back on. "I can't take back what I did."

"GO! LEAVE!"

Applejack panted, shaking as she watched her former friend slink away. Her heart was beating so hard she could feel it in the back of her mouth. She'd been having mood swings for the past few months, but this one at least felt justified.

Just as she turned to go kick something else, a little glint on the floor caught her eye. Berry's four-month chip was still there.

The sound of the dinner bell rang across the orchard, and Applejack swallowed the saliva that was gathering up in her throat. She'd just have to deal with things later.

***

The smell coming from the house's open windows was welcoming, but that wasn't the first thing she noticed---Applejack's ears flattened against her head when she saw Granny on the porch, clacking the swing loudly against the wall. Uh-oh. She only did that when she was royally pissed.

"Uh... Granny?" she said as she tried to hide the quaver in her voice. "Somethin' the matter?"

"Yer sister's settin' the table," she answered without meeting Applejack's gaze.

"Um, good fer her?"

"With an extra chair."

Applejack had to take a couple of shaky steps backwards to keep her legs from giving out. "Wh-what?!"

"Yer brother came home while you were out." She finally turned her head just enough to give Applejack the side-eye. "And he brought somepony with him."

All the alarm bells in her head began to blaze. Run! Dye yer mane, change yer name, and move to Acoltpulco! RUN!

"Uh, G-Granny? D'you mind if I go, uh... do... somethin' fer a minute?"

"Take yer time," she muttered. "It's gonna take me awhile to calm down enough t'go back in there."

"Great!" she said as she took off in a gallop. She cleared the crest of a hill and made it down to the riverbank before she allowed herself to stop and pant heavily.

"This ain't happenin'!" she told her muddy reflection. "This can't be happenin'!"

With a loud groan, she knelt down and dunked her face in the river. The cool water felt wonderful flowing across her cheeks, and she left her breath out in a flurry of bubbles.

"Okay," she said quietly when she lifted her head. "If I can face Discord, I can face this. Right?" She wiped the water off her face with her fetlocks. "Right."

She'd learned not to ask how bad it could get.

***

Applejack cautiously peeked around the doorframe, and it felt like the bottom of her gut dropped out. Standing there in her own dining room was the stallion she hadn't seen in months, casually chatting with her little sister as they set the table. Very carefully and quietly, she stepped into the room.

"...an' then Scootaloo got her back leg all the way over her head!"

"Is that so?"

"Yeah, but she got stuck!" Apple Bloom giggled at the recollection as she slid a plate from her head to the table. "She couldn't get it back down, and she started hoppin' around tryin' to get it loose, and she fell down the clubhouse ladder!"

"I take it she didn't get a yoga cutie mark, then?"

"Nope! But the nurses gave her lots of candy an' chocolate milk, so she wasn't too upset."

"Maybe she can get..." His voice trailed off when his eyes met Applejack's. They both blushed, and she shuffled back a little. "Er, Apple Bloom, could you excuse me for a moment?"

She looked up, saw her sister's worried face, and then turned back to him. "Uh, sure. A'course."

Applejack quickly retreated into the kitchen, letting Flim follow her. He closed the door behind him, and they stood staring at each other for several long, anxious moments.

"Uh... hey there, Flim," she finally offered.

He took off his hat. "Hello, Applejack."

She shifted around a little and scratched the back of her neck.

"You're.... huge," he said, eyeing her belly.

"Yeah, that's kinda what happens," she said with a scowl.

"I, er, I didn't..." He coughed. "I didn't think you really were, um..."

"Knocked up?"

"I was going to say pregnant, but, yes."

Applejack looked at the floor. "Oh, Celestia. I thought I'd never see you again."

"I thought so too," he said, replacing his hat. "But, er, I... kind of hoped I would."

"Why?"

Before he could answer, Big MacIntosh entered the kitchen, glaring at his captive. "Dinner's comin' up," he muttered. "Both a'you---go wash up."

"Uh... the bathroom's upstairs, third door on the left," she said. "I'll use the kitchen sink."

Mac nodded at Flim. "Go."

Applejack turned the taps on, watching him leave; once her brother was out of the room, however, she darted through the door and went on tip-hooves up the stairs.

Flim had the water running, but he was splashing his face instead of washing his hooves. Without turning the taps off, he stared at his reflection, breathing heavily, his face still dripping.

She decided it best to hurry back downstairs. She knew anxiety when she saw it.

"Somethin' tells me this ain't gonna end well," she said under her breath.

As her family went about getting the food ready, Applejack went out to take her place---she'd been on her legs all day, and her back was aching. She gulped, however, when she saw the layout of the dinner table; while she, Apple Bloom, and Granny had glasses of sparkling juice, her brother had rather pointedly put a stein of Apple family cider in front of Flim's plate, as well as his own.

She was about to switch it when she heard hoofsteps coming down the stairs, and quickly took her place again.

"This looks nice," he said. "Where do I sit?"

"Uh... over there."

He raised an eyebrow when he saw his drink, but mercifully kept his mouth shut.

Everypony else took their places and, as usual, they let Granny say grace; Applejack noticed that while Flim did bow his head, he neither closed his eyes nor put his hooves together. She'd have to ask him about that later.

A full five minutes passed in silence, save for the sound of chewing and swallowing. Applejack tried as hard as she could to keep her eyes on her plate, but her appetite was almost gone.

"Well, we're a lively bunch, aren't we?" Flim said with his mouth full. "How 'bout that local sports team, huh?"

"Don't get cute," Applejack spat.

He smiled at her. "I thought you liked it when I get cute."

Her face went red. "S-shut up!" Then she turned to her brother. "Why'd you even bring him here?!"

"Y'know why," he answered without looking up.

"That's not what I meant. Why not both of 'em?" Applejack glared across the table at Flim. "I know I let it slip who... it was, but how didja know which one...?"

"I heard the news around town."

That settled a pall over the table, and they all nervously picked at their plates.

Applejack cleared her throat. "Really, though---why isn't Flam here? Wouldn't he be worried?"

"He probably is, considering he doesn't know where I am." Flim met Big MacIntosh's eyes. "He wasn't present when I was coltnapped."

"Is he gonna come lookin'?" That was Apple Bloom.

"Of course. It'll take him some time, but he'll track me down. He always does."

"I sure am sorry fer the circumstances," Granny said with as much politeness as she could muster. "But so long as yer here, well, yer our guest. Our home is yer home, too."

Big MacIntosh grimaced and opened his mouth to say something in response, but a withering look from his grandmother shut him up pretty quick.

"Thank you," Flim said. "I appreciate the, er, hospitality."

Granny nodded. "After dinner, the young'uns'll get the guest room ready."

He smirked. "Why bother? Doesn't Applejack have a big enough bedOW!!"

The kick from his left had probably come from Applejack, and, judging from the force of it, the one to his right from her brother.

"You don't wanna sleep in her room," Apple Bloom said innocently. "She snores like a timberwolf."

"Apple Bloom!"

He quickly stuffed a forkful of turnip loaf in his mouth to keep from bursting out laughing. "I know. And she whinnies in her sleep."

"I do not!" she protested. "Besides, you drool on the pillow!"

Big MacIntosh pressed a hoof to his forehead. "Can we please talk about something else?"

"Believe it or not, this isn't actually the most awkward dinner I've ever been to," Flim said as he took another bite.

"Find that hard to believe," Applejack muttered.

"I ruined a wedding once," he said with far too much pride.

"That," she said, "I do believe."

It was probably a bad idea to ask, but... she couldn't help it. "Whose wedding?"

"Flam's."

The only sound was the clink of Granny's fork as it fell to her plate.

"What?" he said, looking at the sea of shocked faces. "Nopony's perfect. I make mistakes. Speaking of which," he said, turning his attention to Applejack, "Have... uh... have you thought of a name yet?"

Without looking up from her plate, Applejack said "If it's a colt, I'll name him after Pa. If it's a filly, I'll name her after Ma." Then she met his eyes and patted her belly. "But if this is just gas, I'll name it after you."

Granny gasped. "Really, now!"

Flim actually smiled. "Impressive!"

"How long are y'stayin'?" Apple Bloom asked.

"He'll be here for awhile, Bloom," Big MacIntosh grumbled into his food. "He an' yer sister are gonna get married."

Her whole face lit up like a beacon. "Really??"

"NO!" they shouted in unison.

"Yes, you ARE," he said firmly.

Applejack turned her frown from Flim to her brother. "Mac, if he was my husband, I'd put poison in his cider!"

Flim laughed. "If you were my wife, I'd drink it!"

Granny placed her hoof over her mouth. "Hooo boy!"

"Whassa matter?" Applejack snapped. "Don't think you could handle me?"

"Oh, I don't mind handling you," he answered smugly. "But I don't want you tying me down. Tying me up, maybe---"

They all jumped when a huge red hoof crashed down on the tabletop.

"Big MacIntosh!" Granny scolded.

"Pass...the...salt," he said through clenched teeth.

Applejack reached out to do so, but stopped when she saw a green aura lift it up. As Flim placed it beside his plate, Granny turned to her grandson and prompted, "Well? Whaddaya say to our guest?"

"I'd say what I'm thinkin' out loud," he said as he snatched up the salt, "but there's a child present."

Apple Bloom folded her front hooves and pouted. "Hey! I know swears. You can say 'em in front of me."

"He's right, you know." Flim smiled at her. "You are a little young to be listening to vulgarities. You don't even have your cutie mark yet, my dear."

"That don't mean I'm a baby!"

"Of course it doesn't," he said soothingly. "You do seem quite mature for your age."

As Apple Bloom was puffing her chest out in pride, he went on: "You know, my brother got his a full month before I did. I never thought I'd hear the end of it."

"Really?"

Flim patted her on the head just above her ribbon. "Even though we're the same age---I'm twenty minutes older, even---he just wouldn't stop reminding me that he'd got his first. Caused quite a rift between us."

Apple Bloom frowned. "But I thought twins always got their cutie marks at the same time."

"No, that's an old pony's tale."

"So are y'two the same, or like the Cake twins?"

Flim finished his plate and pushed it back. "Who are the Cake twins?"

"They're Mr. and Mrs. Cake's foals. One's a unicorn, and the other's a pegasus."

"That means they're fraternal."

She looked confused. "Huh?"

"Twins are either fraternal or identical. Do you know what genes are, Apple Bloom?"

"Uh huh!" she said with a smile. "I did a group project in biology class a month ago!"

"Do you know where foals come from?"

"Watch it," Big MacIntosh warned.

Ignoring him, Flim continued "Well, fraternal twins are just two siblings who happened to share a womb at the same time. Identical twins, however, happen quite a bit after the sperm meets the egg. Nopony knows why, but sometimes that fertilized egg splits in half and turns into two babies who have exactly the same genes."

"Uh... does twinnin' run in families?" Applejack said. Her gut felt particularly sour.

"Only fraternal twinning," Flim answered. "Identicals are a fluke."

"So if ya'll have the same genes," Apple Bloom asked, "Does that mean you're exactly the same? Like, clones?"

"Mm, we're similar, but we're quite different at the same time. For example, I'm left-hooved; Flam isn't." He sipped from his stein. "Having the same genetic makeup doesn't make us exact copies, you know."

"Oh. So that explains it," she said, turning back to her dinner.

"Explains what?"

Apple Bloom shrugged. "Why yer brother's handsome and yer kinda... funny-lookin'."

Her timing couldn't have been better; her brother had just taken a gulp of his cider, and it suddenly sprayed out his nose across the table.

"Oh, Mac! Lookit what y'just did!" Applejack yelled as she jumped out of the way. Flim hadn't been quite so lucky; he scowled as he swept the dripping strands of mane out of his eyes.

Big MacIntosh stuffed his napkin against his face, blinking away the tears that were brought forth both from laughter and from the pain of the bubbly cider shooting through his sinuses. "I'm s-s-sorryhahahaHAHA!" he managed, getting up. "I'll go get some towels! I'm sorry-hee-hahaHAHAHA!"

"Now that was not polite, Apple Bloom," Granny said, pursing her lips to try to hide her smile.

"I'm sorry!" And she really did look it. "I didn't mean t'hurt yer feelins!"

Again, he patted her head, using his magic to wipe his napkin across his forehead. "I've been called worse." Shooting a look across the table, he added "Your sister had a few choice terms for me, if I recall correctly."

She stared back at him, unblinking. "'Good-fer-nothin' son of a whore' t'be exact."

"Applejack!"

"It's fine, Granny," Flim said with some surprising calmness. "I am a son of a whore."

"Really?" Apple Bloom's eyes went wide.

Looking up, Flim noticed that everypony present was staring at him---even Big MacIntosh, who had returned with a few towels. "It's not something I'm particularly proud of, but, yes, that is who I am."

Applejack suddenly felt the need to examine her dinner very closely. "Uh... really?"

"Yes." Flim swallowed the last of his cider, and offered: "I have no idea who my biological father is. My mother, well... she did what she had to do to make a living."

"Oh, you poor dear," Granny said under her breath.

"I didn't know that," Applejack mumbled into her mouthful.

"It's fine."

"No it ain't!"

Everypony else at the table turned to look at Applejack. Her face was hot and flushed. "Y'didn't tell me that!"

Flim raised an eyebrow. "Would it have made a difference?"

"A'course it would!" The lump in her throat was growing. "I didn't know you had t'live without a father, too!"

"And without a mother."

"Huh?"

"Oh, well..." This time she saw something flicker across his face, but---it was gone in a flash. "She, um... she's dead."

A horrible silence descended over the table.

To Applejack's surprise, her brother was the first to speak. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine. It's not like I miss her or anything."

"What...?"

"She died in childbirth," Flim said. "I never really knew her."

"I... I think the pies shoulda cooled by now," Applejack said, pushing her chair back. "I'll go get 'em."

***

There were two pies, one with cinnamon and one with rhubarb; she had just begun to cover the former with thick whipped cream when the kitchen door creaked behind her.

"I don't need help," she said without looking up.

"I know. I was looking for an excuse to get out of there."

"You too, huh?"

Flim brushed up beside her, and although she frowned, she didn't move away.

"You, er, really don't know if it's a colt or a filly?"

"I ain't psychic."

"You could get an ultrasound."

Applejack shook her head. "Why bother?"

"Just to make sure everything's alright. And to see what it is."

"Ma had the three of us jes' fine without all that fancy technology," she said, trying to keep the edge out of her voice. "If the natural way was good enough fer her, it's good enough fer me."

"Well, I can see this is an argument I'm not going to win." He held a hoof next to her belly. "Do you mind...?"

She laughed. "Go ahead. You put it there, after all."

"Are you sure about that?"

Flim yelped as she swatted his hoof away. "YES."

"It's just that, well..." He shrugged. "The way you acted that night made me wonder if it's really mine."

"It's yours," she growled, going back to covering the pie.

"But are you sure?" he needled. "Completely sure? One hundred percent?"

"The. Baby. Is. Yours," she repeated.

He put a hoof on her back. "I don't mean to be rude, Applejack, but you're... not exactly a saint. You did some things in bed that even the wildest mares I've been with would blush at. Honestly, it could be anypony's---"

His sentence was cut off when she slammed the pie in his face.

"Enjoy!" she said as she stormed out of the kitchen.

Apple Bloom was the first to notice: "Hey, where's the other pie?"

"It's right here," Flim said as he trailed after Applejack, using one of Granny's best towels to wipe off the blobs.

Big MacIntosh's chuckle was cut off when Granny said "Oh, Applejack, really now!"

"It's quite alright, Granny. It's not the first thing she's put on my face, and I'm pretty sure it won't be the last."

He shrieked and jumped a full foot backward when Big MacIntosh threw the table on its side. "THAT'S IT!"

"No! I didn't mean---"

The murderous look in the larger stallion's eyes made him suddenly feel quite athletic, and he took off in a sprint. He was glad he had a head start, because Mac was on his heels in an instant.

"Mac, no! Wait!" Applejack screamed as she did her best to chase them. "Don't hurt him!"

"I ain't gonna hurt him! I'm gonna kill him!"

"You can't hit him! He's a necrophiliac!"

That made him pause long enough for Flim to dive behind the sofa. "What?!"

"She meant hemophiliac," he said, peeking out over the cushions. "I---erk!"

Big MacIntosh pressed a hoof on Flim's throat, pinning him to the wall, and reared back for a killer left hook.

Applejack had to stop to catch her breath. "Don't! It ain't right to hit a bleeder! You know that!"

"Prove it!"

"Take your hoof off my neck and I'll talk," he choked out.

"You c'n talk jes' fine."

"See this bruise?" he said as he pointed to his muzzle. Mac had to squint, but there was a little brownish remnant just under one of his nostrils. "Your delightful sister slammed a door on me."

The hoof he'd cocked back for a punch began to lower. "She ain't seen you in months."

"Exactly!"

He let him go, and Flim slumped to the floor, coughing and clutching his throat. As Applejack hurried to his side, he looked up at the stallion towering above him and managed "And she put a drink in my face. A drink. What did you think I meant?"

"Uh..."

"Consarn it, Big MacIntosh!" Granny hollered from the doorway. "Get back in the dining room this instant!!!"

His ears drooped. "S-Sorry, Granny."

She bopped him on the head as he shuffled past her. "Go clean up the mess you made! Yer sister's cryin'!"

"You okay?" Applejack said as she rubbed a hoof across Flim's back.

He nodded. "Are you?"

"I'll answer that after I'm done havin' my heart attack," she said with a weak laugh.

Flim smiled, adjusting his crumpled tie. "You really thought he was going to kill me, didn't you?"

"Oh yeah."

He surprised her with a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you for the courageous rescue, then."

"Yeah, well..." She looked away, blushing a little. "Y'wouldn'ta needed it if you'd kept yer smart mouth shut."

"Yes, I have a habit of letting it get me in trouble," he said as he helped her to her hooves. "But this is still not the worst dinner I've been to, all things considered."

***

"There's signs of forced entry," Spitfire said as she pressed her hoof against the battered door. "But it couldn't have been a robbery, not with all this stuff left behind."

Flam was pacing back and forth in the room. "He wouldn't have left without his money. That's not like him."

"Was he alone last nigh---"

"Maybe he went for a walk! Y'know, go see the sights?"

"Don't talk over me, Soarin'," she snapped, then turned back to Flam. "He could have been in an altercation. Was he alone last night?"

He looked at the rumpled bed and frowned. "Considering I had to wear earplugs from about nine p.m. on, I'd sure say he wasn't."

"Do you have any idea who he---"

"Hey, maybe if we go for breakfast, he'll be back by the time we're done!"

Spitfire grit her teeth. "Soarin', that's your last warning!"

He withered a little under her glare. "S-sorry. But I am hungry."

"He didn't just go for a walk, and he's not at breakfast," Flam said as he sat down. Pacing wasn't helping, and he was still tired from the disrupted night's sleep. "He's gone. I just know it."

"When did you first notice he was gone?" she asked as she did another scan of the room. It was in total disarray, the bedcovers on the floor, empty bottles on the desktop, crumbs and half-eaten food ground into the carpet. She'd already pegged the missing pony as a bachelor.

"The front desk sent somepony up. The maid noticed the broken lock when she did her morning rounds, and we'd listed each other as our emergency contacts."

"Is there anypony who'd want to hurt your brother?"

Flam laughed bitterly. "How long do you have? A week? A month, maybe?"

"There's a chance a pegasus took him," she said, eyeing the open window. "A unicorn couldn't make it down from here on his own."

"Yes, I thought of that, too. Even Flim's not stupid enough to try the window."

"It wasn't one of us, though," she added.

"Of course not."

"Uh... maybe he forgot his key," Soarin' suggested. "He could've broken into his own room, you know."

Spitfire rubbed her temples. "The front desk gives out replacement keys, you idiot!"

"With all due respect, ma'am, you shouldn't be so hard on him," Flam said as he got up. "He's just trying to help."

"I don't need his help!" she said, her eyebrows knit. She turned to address her officer: "I can handle this on my own. You're excused."

"Okay," he said as he slunk away.

"Listen, uh...?"

"Flam."

"Listen, Flam," she said with a bit more gentleness. "I'm really sorry about this. This shouldn't have happened under our watch. I have contacts with the Royal Guard, and if you like---"

At the mention of the keepers of the law, Flam's eyebrows shot up. "Er, no, that's... that's fine! You don't have to do that!"

"Are you sure?"

"Uh..." He quickly looked at the clock. "He's only been missing for half a day; I'll have to wait twenty-four hours before filing a missing pony report."

"I can make things go faster if---"

He held up a hoof, shaking his head. "No, that's quite alright. I really appreciate you coming in to investigate, but I'll deal with the paperwork on my own."

After staring at him for a moment, Spitfire sighed and landed on her hooves. "If you insist."

"Thank you again, ma'am," he said as he accompanied her to the door.

"But if you do need any other help," she said before leaving, "You know where to find me."

"Thank you."

He waved after her as she flew down the hallway, then closed the door and pressed his forehead against it, groaning.

"Damnation, Flim, what kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into this time?"

With a heavy sigh, he walked back into the room and began gathering up his brother's things, which included, to his surprise, a camera he didn't recognize. It looked new, and cheap, the kind that they probably sell in the gift store downstairs; the counter at the top corner indicated that several photos had been taken. Flam turned it over in his hooves, thinking; knowing his brother, he'd probably have to bleach his brain after looking at the photos, but they were going to be the only clue as to who he'd been with the night before. He seemed to recall a 24-hour photo developing place around the corner.

Maybe not the only clue---when he got back to his room, right across the hall, the first thing he noticed was a note slipped under his door.

I know who took your brother. Meet me by the dumpster behind the hotel at nine. BRING THE CAMERA!!!

***

"Nice place," Flim said as he flopped down on the guest bed. "I've paid to be in worse rooms than this."

"Eeyup," he said from the door as he unrolled the sleeping bag.

"I don't suppose this place has room service, though."

"Here's how this is gonna go down," he said in a dangerously low voice. "You stay in this room, got it? I'm-a sleep right outside this door. You even think of goin' to see Applejack in the night, and I'll see to it yer legs bend in a bunch a' different places. Got it?"

Flim gave him a mock-salute. "Sure thing, warden."

"Good night," he said as we walked towards the door.

"Hey. Wait."

He did, but he didn't turn.

"Let me tell you something. Stallion to stallion."

Big MacIntosh turned his head slightly. "What?"

"Look." Flim rolled over on the bed. "I've been around the block a few times. Every town I go to, there's a bunch of loose mares just waiting to throw themselves at somepony new."

"You have ten seconds to improve my mood."

"Your sister isn't one of them."

This time he did turn, and fully. "What?"

"She's different."

They stared each other down. Flim blinked first, but he didn't seem to mind. "I can tell you aren't particularly pleased about this," he said, "but if there's anypony you should be angry at, it's me. Not her. Hey...?"

Mac had swayed a little, one of his eyelids drooping. Flim frowned. "You okay there?"

"Good night," he said as he slammed the door shut.

He groaned as quietly as he could once the door was shut and rubbed his temples. He'd been putting on a good front in the room, but now he could let his guard down; he felt like he'd been put through the wringer. Sure, he'd just gone through two of the most aggravating days of his life, but he shouldn't be this... exhausted. It felt like some black shroud was wrapped around his brain.

He just barely managed to crawl into the sleeping bag before losing consciousness.

***

The snores from outside let Flim know it was time to move. He opened the door an inch, ready to slam it shut again should his captor flinch; when he saw no movement, he stepped back on the creaky floorboard. Nothing. He smiled to himself. To think he'd been worried about the dosage for such a big guy---three pills took him down just fine.

He tapped at the side of Big MacIntosh's head. "You have no idea how tempted I am to draw something on your face right now," he whispered. "But I'm supposed to be nice, right?" Then he looked down the hall. "Besides, I have other business to attend to."

Better The Devil You Know [clop]

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It was usually not a bright idea to enter a grimy alleyway after dark, but nine o'clock was fortunately a bit early for the lowlifes to be out. Most of them, anyway. Flam rounded the corner and made his way down the small passage between the back of his hotel and an office tower until he was standing in front of the dumpster, overflowing with bags of trash and whatever leftovers the hotel had kept under the heat lamps too long.

"Hey. Over here."

Crouched in the shadow of the dumpster was a pony wearing what appeared to be a hoodie, covering the shape of his mane. Flam took another step forward, but a hoof shot up in front of the silhouetted figure.

"Ah ah, no, you just stay there."

Flam sighed and resisted the ruge to roll his eyes. He decided to play along---and not tell the other stallion he already recognized his voice. "Well?"

"Did you bring the camera?"

"What camera?"

He could see ears prick up under the hood. "Wha... what do you mean? Wasn't there a camera in the room?"

"No," he said, glad that lying came easily to those in his profession. "I thought all he took with him was his clothes, but I guess he must've taken that, too."

"Oh no," he whimpered. "Oh, that's not good!"

"Why? What exactly was on the film?" He tried not to imagine the expression on the face of whichever employee was unlucky enough to be processing it, probably as they spoke.

"Nothing!" he said quickly. "Uh, well, it's just... I'm not really, uh, photogenic, y'know?"

As Flam nodded, he went on: "And I just don't like the idea of pictures of me floating around out there, uh..."

"Tell you what," he said as he leaned against the dumpster. "You tell me where my brother went, and I'll do my best to get the photos back to you."

"I don't know where he went; I just know who took him."

"That'll do."

"So... your brother for the photos?" He held out a hoof, but made sure to keep it in the shadows.

"Deal."

They shook on it, and before Flam could drop his hoof, the other stallion added "I'll be here for another week. We have more shows to... I mean, uh, get them back to Room 1457! And the negatives, too!"

"Sure thing." Flam leaned forward until the tip of his muzzle was an inch in front of the shadows. "But if he's hurt----in ANY way---I expect to be... compensated, if you catch my drift."

"Of course."

"Now," he said, pulling away, "Tell me what you know."

***

Applejack finished brushing her mane and slid the hairbrush back into her top drawer, right beside the framed picture. Just like she did after her toughest days, she pulled it out and placed it beside the mirror so that they were looking back at her.

"So I guess you heard the news," she said. "I meant to tell ya sooner, but... There's gonna be another Apple."

She pressed her hoof against the glass frame. "Came a lil' earlier than I was hopin' fer, but... well... not much I c'n do now. Mac... he... he wants me t'get married. Can y'believe it?"

The two faces, long frozen in time, just smiled back up at her.

"I always wanted you to walk me down the aisle," she said quietly. "Guess that jes' wasn't meant to be."

She looked up at the mirror, and remembered back to the last time her mother had been sitting there, using that same hairbrush to pull the snarls out of her mane. Closing her eyes, she pictured that silhouette behind her, breathing gently on her neck, singing that sweet lullaby she'd then gone on to teach to Apple Bloom.

"The beautiful Whinnysee waltz," she murmured.

Goodnight, my darling.

"Goodnight," she whispered, leaning forward. Without opening her eyes, she placed a kiss on the mirror, and slid the photo back in the drawer. She let out a long-drawn breath, opened her eyes, and smiled back at her reflection.

Then she looked a little closer. To her surprise, she noticed the freckles that normally dotted her cheeks seemed to have spread to her chin. Applejack carefully lifted her bangs, and gasped when she saw them on her forehead, too. Her coat seemed thicker, shinier, as if she'd been rubbing almond oil into it.

"Dagnabbit," she muttered. "I'm glowin'."

"Do you always kiss the mirror before bed?"

"GYAH!"

She lept off the stool and jumped backwards. Flim was standing in the doorway, smiling at her.

"How long you been there?!"

"Just a few minutes."

"Git back t'yer room!" she hissed. "If my brother finds you, he'll crack yer head open like a melon!"

"Oh, he's sleeping quite soundly."

"He's a light sleeper," she said. Her heart was pounding.

"Not tonight he isn't." Flim stepped into the room and noiselessly closed the door behind him. "I may have... slipped a little something in his nightcap."

Applejack's jaw fell open. "You... you're unbelievable."

"It won't hurt him. It was just a small dose of anti-anxiety medication I carry around with me. With the way he was acting at dinner, I thought he could use it."

He wasn't happy when he saw the look on her face. He'd expected her to be indignant, but instead she looked away quickly, biting her lip.

'Anti-anxiety medication'? she thought as she rubbed a hoof against her belly, leaning back on the stool. The bleedin' thing, and now this? Jes' how sick is he?

"Applejack?"

An' what if it passes on...

"Applejack!"

She narrowed her eyes. "Why are ya here?"

"Well..." In the moonlight, Flim's smile looked almost genuine. "I just wanted to spend a little time with you, away from prying eyes."

"Oh yeah? To do what?"

He held his hoof out. "Would you care for a dance?"

Applejack crossed her front legs. "NO."

"C'mon. I'll sing."

She turned her back and was about to retort something when he began... and her eyes shot open.

"I was dancing with my darling To the Whinnysee waltz..."

Applejack rose from her seat, trembling all over. She hadn't heard that song sung out loud in a decade.

Flim smiled, his hoof still extended towards her, and kept singing. Very, very carefully, she put her hoof against his, and allowed him to pull her into an embrace.

"Yes, I remember that night," she sang quietly, "And the Whinnysee waltz..."

His hooves guided hers back and forth. She let him lead for once.

She let him sing the rest of the song, and... she couldn't believe it. She let herself melt against his body, slowly, carefully, listening to the gentle rythym she remembered so well. His voice was far different, of course, but those same, sweet old lyrics...

As the song ended, Flim tenderly leaned back and placed a kiss on top of her hoof. "Thank you."

"How didja know that song?!" she said as she pulled away.

"My big sister was a saloon singer." Flim paused to consider himself in the mirror, and carefully smoothed the white strands of his mane back in their place. "I heard you mention it, and it reminded me of her."

"Really?" Then something hit her---she remembered what he said at dinner. "Did she raise you?"

He paused, looking at her through the mirror. "Yes."

"So y'do have some family besides Flam. Yer sister---"

"She was always mean as cat shit," he spat.

"Oh." She certainly hadn't been expecting that reaction. "Sorry, I..."

Flim nudged the drawer open and lifted the photo with his magic. "So these are your parents?"

"Put that back!"

He looked at her with surprise. "What? I'm just---"

"I said PUT IT BACK!"

"Okay!" He returned it face-down. "I didn't mean anything by it, Applejack."

She let out a tense breath. ".... Me neither," she mumbled. "I'm sorry, I jes'..."

Flim put a foreleg around her shoulders and pulled her into a half-hug. "Shh. It's fine."

After a moment's hesitation, Applejack put her chin on his shoulder and allowed him to rub her back. "You came here for a reason, didn'tcha?" she whispered in his ear, looking at the closed door.

Nuzzliung up against her, he said "Of course I did."

"Well, I ain't gonna wait all night." She turned to walk towards the bed, flicking her tail up against his muzzle. Even as it slid back in place, she could feel his eyes on her backside, running up and down.

"You're... you're winking," he mumbled, a little droplet of drool at the side of his mouth.

Once she was flopped back down on the mattress, Applejack spread her hindlegs and shot him a winning smile. "C'mere!"

And he was on top of her in a flash. Giggling, Applejack lifted her hind hooves and rubbed them up and down his cutie marks. Flim pushed his face against her chest, moaning.

"Fuck," he hissed. "I've missed the sweet smell of your coat."

"Lemme feel that cock," she breathed. And, sure enough, when he leaned down to grind against her, she felt that hot, wet tip pressing against her belly. She wiggled down a few inches, groaning as she felt his heavy balls resting against her tenderness.

"How do you want it?" he asked, nipping at her neck.

"Y'gave it to me rough last time," she said as she traced the tip of her muzzle up his horn. "This time, I wantcha to be real gentle."

"Like this?"

"Ahh-AAH!"

All he'd done was rub up against her, the underside of his dick sliding between her lips, but it made her shudder.

"Shh," he softly whispered against her ear. "I know you're a screamer, but---"

"Hold on."

"What?"

With a grin, Applejack placed both front hooves on his shoulders and then flipped him on his back. "Last time, you got to taste me," she said as she began trailing her wet lips down his body. "Now it's my turn."

Applejack licked the base of his shaft, smiling as she heard him groan. She nudged her snout up against his crotch, and opened her mouth, letting her tongue sweep over his balls.

"Fuck yes," he moaned above her.

She took one in her mouth and began gingerly rolling it around; when the first few drops of precum began trickling down his shaft, she let it slide out of her mouth and moved to the other.

"Ah, Celestia," Flim said, panting. "Yes! Oh, Applejack... Yesssss. Suck my stones."

You could bite 'em off right now.

Her eyes widened, his left nut still in her mouth. Where had that voice come from?!

Instead of paying any attention to it, Applejack shifted in the bed, turned around, and plunked her dripping sex down on Flim's muzzle.

"Eat me," she demanded, shoving against him. Her open mouth quivered on his scrotum when she felt his tongue lash up against her.

"Mmmmph!" she moaned, pulling back and throating his cock.

"Mmm... naughty girl!" he said around her pussy. "Where'd you learn to do that?"

Her eyes flew open when she felt his tongue nudge a little higher, up above her slit, right under her tail. She had no idea what he was thinking. Why was he doing that.... there?

She spat his cock out. "Quit it! That's... dirty!" she exclaimed.

He pulled away just long enough to say "Tastes fine to me!" and then went back to rimming her.

"Ah! Don't.... ohh..." The feeling of tongue and lips against her in that most intimate spot was making her dribble from both ends. "Mmm. Oh, please..."

"You like it?"

"Mm-hmm," she moaned through her clenched teeth. Her tail flopped around his head until she found his horn, and began gently stroking it. "You sure have---ah!---some tricks up yer sleeve."

"I suspect you do, too."

She lifted herself from his lapping tongue. "Funny you should mention that."

He frowned when her tail stopped rubbing his horn. "What?"

Applejack smiled and placed a kiss on his cheek. "There's somethin' I been dyin' to try fer awhile now. You jes' stay there."

"Hey!" he said, sitting up. "Where are you going?"

"Be right back!" she called back to him as she left the room.

***

She was only gone a few minutes. When she came back, she was carrying a mug of cider on her head and another on her rump.

"Hey, you shouldn't be drinking that," he said. It surprised him a little to hear the concern in his own voice.

"This one's fer you." She put it down on the table next to his side of the bed. "The other's mine. It's just juice, don't worry."

With the practiced ease that was familiar to most Earth ponies, she looped her tail around the handle of her drink and held it up to his. "Cheers."

"To what?"

Applejack smirked. "To bad decisions?"

"Ha!" He clinked his mug against hers. "I'll drink to that."

They both downed a gulp, and Applejack crawled up on the bed next to him; still holding her juice, she gently pushed his hindlegs apart so she could move between them.

"So, you said you had a trick you wanted to show me...?"

"Uh-huh. Now you jes' lie back an' let me try this out." She could feel her cheeks heating up. "I never, uh, actually done this before."

"Done what?"

"You'll see." She put her drink down and stuck her muzzle into it. "I jes' gotta get somethin' out of here first."

"What are you..."

"Jes 'ie 'ack 'own," Applejack mumbled. She clearly had something in her mouth; her cheek was popped out a little. "Close 'er eyes."

Flim was glad he'd put his drink down, because when he felt the heat of her mouth and an ice cube he nearly jumped out of his skin. "Wha---?!"

"'Is mi' 'eel a l'il col'," she said with her lips at the tip of his cock. She traced the ice around the flare, over the slit, then took it back in her mouth along with the first few inches.

With a loud groan, Flim let her push him back into the sheets. Dear sweet Celestia, he could hardly believe she knew the ice cube trick! This mare was far more interesting than he first gave her credit for.

Applejack moaned as she rubbed her hoof gently across one of his balls. "Mmm?"

"It feels... amazing," he breathed. Even though he was already shaking, he reached for his drink. "You...ah!....You sure know how to treat a stallion. Talk about Southern hospitality!"

"Mmm-hmmph."

"And to think I pegged you for a virgin when I first saw you. You must have quite a few notches on your bedpost."

Applejack looked up with a frown, letting his dick slide out of her mouth. She spat out the ice. "Keep talkin' like that and yer gonna feel teeth."

He laughed. "Relax! It was a compliment." He took a big swig, and was a little surprised to see her eyes following his movements. "I'm just saying you're very talenAH!"

She'd throated him again.

"That," he said with a chuckle. "That's what I'm saying. You're very talented."

Flim grinned. A drink in one hoof and a pretty mare between his legs. It ended up even better than he'd hoped for. He'd been pretty sure he was going to get chased out of the bedroom at best, murdered at worst. It did seem a little odd that she'd been willing, but then again, he knew that the hormones could make mares go a little crazy when---

Then he winced. Right. She was pregnant. He couldn't believe he'd forgotten about that.

And he'd forgotten about her. Quickly finishing the drink, Flim shot a beam over her back.

"Mmmph?!" Applejack's eyes opened when she felt her tail lifting.

"Shh, just relax," he said, placing the mug back on the table. "It won't hurt the baby. I'm just going to help you out."

"What---AH!" She squeaked. She'd actually squeaked. Something staticky behind her was pinching her clit. "Nnng... that... you finished that drink already?"

"I was thirsty. I think I drooled and dripped all the way down the hall just thinking about you."

Applejack laughed, nuzzling against his dick. "Aw, knock it off. You really are a terrible sweet-talker. Mmm..."

The way he was tugging and pulling at her clit was making her tremble all over, but she had to finish what she'd started. She carefully dragged the tip of her tongue over his medial ring and worked her way back to the top with soft kisses. Suddenly the magic behind her fizzled.

"Hey, why'd you stop?"

"I can't concentrate when you're doing... that," he said weakly.

"Hmph! Stallions," she muttered, but she got back to sucking.

He normally would've said something back, but he was feeling a little tendril of worry curling up into a question: he had lost his concentration for a moment there, but he almost never broke off magic by accident. Running a machine at top speed, in reverse, while multiple sharp objects are being hurled at you sees to it you learn how to keep magic flowing. What just happened?

"Um... somethin' the matter?"

He looked down and his eyes nearly bugged out of their sockets. To his growing horror, he watched her push his limp cock back and forth between her hooves.

"Just---just keep going!" he said, his voice---if nothing else---rising. "It's fine, just go back to what..."

Applejack frowned and nudged his cock a few times. She licked it, then tried pulling it into her mouth. Nothing. "Mmph... I don't think---"

The hitch in his voice had turned to near-panic. "I swear, this has never happened before!"

Her knotted expression melted into sadness. "Is it... me?"

"No! No, you're beautiful," he said quickly. Then he shook his head. He was trying as hard as he could to think how to talk himself out of this one, but his brain felt fuzzy. "I just... I guess, uh... I feel tired. Maybe I had too much to drink..."

The drink.

She raised an eyebrow. "You okay, sugarcube?"

"No, I..." Flim put a hoof to the side of his head and groaned. No, something was definitely wrong. He could barely string words together now, and it seemed like a blanket of exhaustion was slipping around the edges of his mind. "I'm just... really... tired...?"

The drink!

"Oh..." he mumbled, looking at the empty mug. "You... bitch..."

He couldn't fight her off as she shoved him back to the mattress. "How does it feel, huh?" Applejack barked. "Huh? What's it like bein' drugged? Feel good?"

"I'm..." Too late, now. The edges of his vision were swimming. "Gonna..."

When he blacked out, Applejack smiled. She wasn't particularly proud of what she'd just done, but damn if he didn't deserve it.

"Sleep tight," she said, and placed a kiss on his forehead.

The Ties That Bind [clop]

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The moment he walked in the door, the burly griffon at the front desk cracked a smile, and Flam tried as hard as he could to steel himself. He'd known this wouldn't be pleasant, but that grin was starting to make him worry.

"Hey! Hey guys!" the griffon shouted to the back room. "It's that guy from the pictures!"

Well, shit. "Let's just get this over with. How much do I owe---"

A greasy-maned mule ducked his head out of the darkroom, took one look at Flam, and burst out laughing. "Hey, buddy, I don't blame you for wearing a fake moustache!"

"Yeah, I'd be pretty embarrassed, too!" came from a zitty pegasus who was flicking through the photos, chuckling.

"I'm not the one in those photos!" he said through a tightly-clenched jaw. "I have a twin!"

"Oh yeah, sure! We've heard THAT before!"

He grabbed both ends of his moustache and tugged. "This is real. See? If it was me in the pictures, how could I have grown this overnight?"

The griffon shrugged. "For all we know, you've had this camera awhile."

"Argh!" He still wasn't sure why he was arguing---he was never going to see these idiots again, and it wasn't like he had much honour to stand up for, either. Still, they'd spent most of their lives trying to differentiate themselves from one another, and the last time there'd been confusion over who was who had ended up... pretty badly. And he did not like stallions, dammit!

"Look, you all work with photos. None of you are blind," he said as he turned to the side. Gesturing toward his cutie mark, he added, "So look at this."

The mule winced. "We've seen enough of your ass, buddy."

"My cutie mark!" he snapped. "Look at my cutie mark! I'll make this as simple as I can."

Snatching up the photos with his magic, Flam pointed at his face, then back down at his flank. "This is me." Then he threw the first photo down on the counter. "And that's my broth---oh, SWEET CELESTIA!"

He really shouldn't have looked. He knew he shouldn't have looked. Why had he LOOKED?!

"You think that's bad?" The griffon slid another one over. "Check this one out."

This time Flam tried to look away, but it was the very definition of a trainwreck. His own brother doing...

"What... what in Equestria is he wearing?!" Well, no wonder they hadn't seen his cutie mark.

A thought occured to him---If he was wearing those, why didn't I find them in the room?

And the second thought slapped right up as sharp, unexpected, and painful as a rake in the face: They were probably edible.

"That does it," he muttered, throwing a bag of bits on the counter. "I'm going to get shitfaced."

Flim groaned and tried to roll over, but his leg jerked back.

"Wha...?"

"Oh good, y'woke up," came Applejack's voice from somewhere beside him.

"Huh?" Again, he tried to turn to the side, but his left leg was stuck. So was his right; he could feel knots by his fetlocks. The ropes were thick and rough enough that he knew he could get cut, but the bonds were a little loose, so he could wriggle around a few inches.

Wait, ropes? He opened his eyes fully and looked up and the bindings. Both of his front hooves were bound to opposite bedposts, and a few jerks of his hindlegs proved that they were in a similar situation. Interesting...

"You were only out fer half an hour...otherwise, I woulda dressed ya up a little, too." Applejack flopped down on top of him and smiled. "Comfy?"

"What part of 'I'm a unicorn' do you not understand?" he sneered and he turned to give the ropes a blast. And...

"Huh?" Flim shook his still-foggy head and tried again, but for a second time his magic fizzled out halfway up.

"That part," she answered smugly. "I never did get how horn rings work."

He craned his eyes up; his mane covered the base of his horn, but he could see a glint of metal sticking out. "Why do you have a horn ring?!" he hollered.

"I don't," she said with a light blush. "Um, it's Mac's."

Flim started to thrash. "Is EVERY member of this family kinky, or just you two? If I look in Granny's closet, am I gonna find some latex outf---oh, why did I just say that? Now I'm going to have to scrub my brain."

"Shh, shh," she whispered, tapping his muzzle. "Don't hurt yerself."

He paused, trying to catch his breath. She was right; he could get hurt. There was some give in the bindings, but the rough ropes could scratch, or he could bruise if he yanked too hard. One of his ankles was already throbbing from where he'd been kicked at dinner. The knots were too far away for him to bite, and even if he could get at them, he didn't have the skills of an Earth pony at manipulating fiddly things with his mouth. He really was stuck.

"Pity I can't paddle you," Applejack said idly as she watched a bead of sweat form on his forehead. "You could use a good spankin'."

He thought fast. "If I'm in this position too long, blood is going to pool in my joints, and I'll barely be able to walk." It wasn't exactly true, but he figured she didn't know too much about his particular biology.

"Guess I better be quick, then."

"With what?"

Applejack rolled off him and opened the drawer on her nightside table. "A lil' somethin' a friend gave me last Hearth's Warming."

"Uh..." Flim swallowed heavily as he eyed the unpleasantly-realistic dildo she was waving in his face. "Did this 'friend' give you a bottle of lube, too?"

"Don't get excited, now. This ain't fer you." She sighed as she slid it down her body. "I don't know where you've been, an' last time I had to clean this off, uh..."

"What?"

"Well, my brother lifted the lid off the pot of boilin' water expectin' some pierogies."

He snorted. "Are you serious?"

"He sure looked funny after bathin' in peroxide."

She ducked her head to try to hide her grin, but Flim was already laughing. "My brother's caught me doing worse."

"I bet he has. Mmm..." Slowly and gently, she teased the tip around her pussy and, with a little gasp, began sliding it in.

He was watching with interest. "You do know you have the real thing right here, right?"

"A'course I do." Applejack eased herself down fully, her wet sex and the flared base of the dildo pressing down on his belly just a few inches above his pride. "I'm gonna have some fun, an' yer gonna lie there an' watch."

"I don't mind the show, but I do prefer something with a little more... audience participation."

She smiled and began to rock back and forth on her toy. "Tough."

Flim met her smile, but his eyes were still on the action. "Prosthetics just don't compare, my dear."

"Really?" She cocked her head. "Last time I checked, this one stays hard."

The look of shocked indignation made her giggle. "HEY! You drugged me! Did you forget that part?!"

"You drugged my brother. You had it comin'."

"He had it coming!" he snapped back. "That asshole tracked me down, broke into my hotel room, shoved a loaded gun in my face---"

"Unloaded."

"Unloaded, fine. And he coltnapped me, forced me onto a train, got me all the way back to this podunk little tow---wait." Flim sat up as straight as he could. "What did you just say?"

"The gun was unloaded," Applejack repeated. "He left all the bullets here."

After a moment's pause, he started to speak. "Are you telling me," he said with a slow iciness, "that I was never at risk of being shot? That he was bluffing the whole time? That he tricked me??"

"And tricked you good," she said with a wide smile.

"Applejack, put a pillow over my mouth. Now."

She did, and before she could ask why he began screaming into it. She couldn't help but laugh as the little of his face that was still visible went from his usual cream colour to red and then to purple.

"You done?" she asked as she lifted the pillow. He'd left spittle and dental imprints on the pillowslip.

"THAT SON OF A B---"

She shoved it back into his open mouth. It took another two minutes of muffled shouting and hollering before she finally put the pillow back. Flim was still red-faced and panting.

"Aw, are you sore?" she said with a fake pout.

"Of course I am! I thought my life was in danger!"

Applejack planted a little peck on his nose. "Nah. I think yer just mad that he out-conned you."

Flim seemed to calm down as he considered this. "Hm," he muttered with a bit of a smile. "Got me there."

"Gotcha here, too," she said, licking the tip of his horn.

"Ggg---!"

Applejack sighed as she traced her tongue around the spiral. "That feel good?"

"With the horn ring on, I can hardly feel it," he gasped.

"Oh no, y'ain't gettin' me to take it off that easy," she mumbled. "I think you can feel this"---a quick suck---"jes' fine."

"No, I don't feel anything. You may as well be licking my hooves."

Applejack paused. She really did have no idea how the rings worked; maybe they numbed them. If she wanted to tease him, she was going to have to switch tactics.

"Really?" She rubbed her hoof up and down his horntip. "Tell me, this ain't feelin' good?"

"No."

His dick slapped up against her back leg, and after a second of awkward silence, they both laughed.

"Dammit, I have the worst timing."

"Mm, naughty boy, lyin' t'me like that," she said with a slow spreading smile. "Yer gonna regret it."

He smirked back up at her. "What, are you going to spank me?"

The look on his face when he saw her bring her tail up to his side was so delightful Applejack wished she'd had the foresight to bring a camera. "No! Applejack, I'll kill you!"

"What? I thought y'said y'ain't ticklish."

"Applejack, I swear to Celestia, if you tickle me I'm going to---"

"Do what," she said, pushing on his bound legs, "Exactly?"

"Tomorrow morning I'm going to go downstairs and kick your dog!" he shouted. "I'm going to go right down there and kick him so hard in the nuts his puppies will feel it!"

Even he couldn't believe he'd just blurted out something so awful, but she just laughed.

"What? Is he fixed?"

"She could take you on in a fight," Applejack just said easily, sliding up closer to his face. "And if you ever threaten to kick Winona again, yer gonna get somethin' worse than a dildo up yer butt."

"Oh for the love of---I wasn't really going to do it!" he said in exasperation. "I'm not going to kick a dog!"

"So... that was another lie?" she grinned as she started lashing her tail around his sides.

Flim's spine arched and he began cackling. "AAH! No no nononohahaha!"

"Aw, yer so cute when you giggle like a li'l school filly," she said, switching to his other side. The way he was squirming around under her was sending the dildo up inside her in little jolts, and Applejack began to gasp.

"No nonahahahaha!" Tears were already streaming down his face as he thrashed around. "Stop-pa-pa-hahaha! Stop it! Bahahaha I'm gonna ki-hi-hi-hill you!"

Applejack put her mouth down against the crook of his neck and began nibbling gently. He was howling with laughter now, and she ran the fluff at the tip of her tail between his legs, tickling just under his balls.

"Stop! Sta-ha-hahahap! I can't bre-he-he-heathe!"

"Beg me," she whispered in his ear.

"Wha-ha-ha-hat?"

"I said beg me."

"Ple-he-he-hease!" Flim screamed when she took his ear into her mouth, rolling it around against her tongue. His hips stuttered on the mattress when he felt her press back against his cock. "Please! Please! Ple-hee-hee-ple--App-pa-ha-ha-Applejack, please!"

"What was that?"

"Oh, please, for Celestia's sake, please!"

She grinned when she felt a dribble of precum ooze out of his slit. "Hm?"

"Please," he gasped.

"Please what?"

"Please stop," he whimpered. "Please, I'm going to lose it."

"Mm-hm."

She kissed the corner of his mouth and pulled her tail away. "That was pretty good beggin', but I think you could do better." When she saw the look of worry, she laughed and kissed him full on the lips. "I'm-a let you off the hook this time."

"Oh, I'm not done," he panted.

"Really?"

"Applejack," he said, looking into her eyes, "Please, get rid of the stupid dildo. I....uh...."

She leaned forward, smiling. "Yeah?"

He actually looked a little embarrassed, but said it anyway: "Listen, I've been thinking about you ever since I regained consciousness---"

The smile was gone in a flash. "What, five minutes ago?!"

"No no, on the train."

"Huh?" Her hooves flew to his head and she began ruffling through his mane. "Oh no, did Big MacIntosh knock you out? Did he pistol-whip ya? Are ya hurt??"

He tried to twist his head away, but she was still prying through his hair. "Ow! Quit it, you're tickling me again!"

"This ain't good!" she fretted. "That was hours ago! Y'could be bleedin' in yer brain by now---"

"My brain is fine," he deadpanned.

"What did he do to you?!"

"He didn't---OW!---have to do anything!" he said with a sigh. "And stop messing through my mane, I'm fine!"

"Then why were you unconscious?"

"I fainted, okay?"

That at least made her stop. "Huh?"

"He told me you were pregnant, and I fainted," Flim said, trying to keep the irritability out of his voice.

After pausing to let that sink in, Applejack smoothed his mane back down and began to chuckle.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," he said, blushing.

"That's better'n how I reacted," she smiled. "I puked."

"You at least had an excuse."

She shifted around until she was more comfortable, and wrapped her tail around his cock; she grinned when she heard him gasp, but kept her grip loose enough to be teasing. "So, I think y'said y'weren't done beggin'...?"

"I...AH!" He jumped when he felt the soft tip of her tail flicker around his flare. "I..."

Applejack began placing light kisses down his jawline. "C'mon, Flim, lemme hear it! Y'don't wanna get tickled again, do ya?"

"I... I need to be inside you."

She pulled back after leaving a wet mark on his neck. "What?"

"Please," he whispered. "Take the dildo out. I n-need to feel you."

Applejack just stared at him, and at first he thought he'd have to keep begging, but then her surprised expression changed to a small, gentle smile. "Aw... that was kinda sweet."

"I know it was. You don't have to tell me."

Turning around and lifting her tail so he had a good view of his competition, Applejack kissed the inside of his thigh, grinning when she felt his legs twitch. "Tell ya what," she said as she lowered herself down on his face, "You git this toy outta me, an' I'm all yers."

"Yes! Anything! ANYTHING!"

"Use yer teeth!"

As obediantely as he could, Flim took the base of the dildo in his mouth and began tugging it out.

"Ahh...."

She sighed when it slid out of her pussy, but she didn't let that little distraction deter her. Spinning around, Applejack grabbed the fake cock with her hooves and yanked it back.

"Tell ya what, Flim," she said with a malicious smile. "Yer so good with yer tongue... I think I should put it to the test."

He tried to say something but spluttered as she shoved the dildo in his open mouth.

"Take it," she whispered.

She had expected some resistance, but was startled---and a little impressed---when he tilted his head back, letting her slickened toy slide down his throat.

"Mmm," she mumbled as she shoved it in and out. "That taste good?"

"Mmmph!"

"Bet y'didn't see that one comin', huh?"

"Mm Hpmh Mff!"

"Y'know, yer a lot easier t'deal with when y'got yer mouth full," she said as she pulled it back out.

Flim coughed loudly and gasped until his lungs were filled again. "Warn me before you do that next time! I barely had time to take a breath."

She raised her eyebrow. "'Next time'?"

He looked away. "Well, I..."

"You, uh..." Applejack cleared her throat as she wiped the dildo on the sheets. "You wanna do this again?"

"It's just that I have a feeling I'll be here for awhile, and---"

She silenced him with a kiss. "Wanna move onto the main course?"

"I thought you'd never ask," he answered. "I really didn't."

"Want me to untie ya?"

He looked up at his bindings, and then turned his knowing smile to back to her. "Not....just yet."

Quickening [clop]

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WARNING (and I'm sorry to do this): this chapter contains some homo- and biphobia, so if that sort of thing upsets you, you should probably skip this one.

"I shoulda figured you'd like bein' tied up," she smirked.

"And I should have figured out that you like being on top." Flim jerked his hips when she began sliding down him. By Celestia, how had he never noticed how powerful her legs were before? Those muscles clenching against his sides could crush a skull!

Applejack winced a little and stood up. "Urgh... hold on."

"Do you want me to beg again?"

"No, I, uh, I gotta pee."

He sighed when the warmth of her body left his. "Make it fast, okay?"

"Gimme a sec'." She hopped off the bed and reached under it. "You better not watch."

"What, you're going to do it here?!"

She lifted the lid off the chamber pot and frowned. "Nope. It's full. Ah, damn! An' so am I." She slid it back under the bed, gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, and hurriedly trotted out of the room.

"Um, Applejack?"

"In a sec'!"

Flim turned his head as far as he could. "Applejack, you left the door open!!"

Well, ajar, but it was still enough to worry him. He definitely remembered the last time he'd been found tied to a bed... well, nopony told him that stallion was married!

A creak from outside made him jump, but it was just the house settling in the cool night air. Flim looked up at the horn ring. Big MacIntosh was out like a light, but what if Granny had to get up? The elderly don't sleep through the night, right? She'd notice the light was on, and if she came in to investigate, she'd see him trussed to her granddaughter's bed with his dick sticking straight up like a sundial. There was no way he could talk himself out of that---'Sorry, Granny, I slipped and fell onto these ropes?' Not likely. She was ancient, but he had a feeling she could still give a mighty kick to the nuts.

"Oh no," he said out loud, his eyes widening. "What if Apple Bloom---?!"

Then he relaxed. No... they probably had chamber pots, too. And he thought he'd seen a water pitcher on Applejack's dresser, so even if they needed a drink, there'd be no reason to leave their rooms...

The door creaked and Flim turned again. "Applejack?"

"Well, I'll be!" came a creaky voice from behind the door. "Is that you, sonny?"

"DON'T COME IN!" he screamed. "Fuck!! I'm sorry for swearing, but, but just stay there!"

"I must be hearin' things! What're ya doin' in there?"

Think, think! "I---Applejack had a backache so I offered to give her a massage. That's it! A... a completely platonic massage!" Oh, way to go, idiot. A massage? Really?

"Tell me somethin', young'un."

"W-what?"

"Do I do a good impression a'Granny's voice?" Applejack said with a smile as she pushed the door open.

"Argh!" He slammed his head back into the pillow. "That was not funny!"

"Yer right. It was hilarious."

"And please don't ever do that voice again," he said, looking at his cock. It had wilted a bit. "Look what you did to me!"

"Poor baby." She hopped back up on the bed and gave his member a little lick. It instantly popped right back up. "There. Better?"

"No. You're not on top of me yet."

Applejack laughed and sat down hard on his barrel. "Now I am."

"You know what I meant!"

"Ooh, testy." She shifted so that her rump was in front of his face, and grinned when he craned his neck up. At the last second, she yanked away from his tongue.

"Applejack, you're driving me crazy! You've been teasing me all night! I---"

"Hush." With a peck on his muzzle, she shuffled around until she was hovering over his cock. "I think I'm ready fer some fun."

Flim let out a long, shaking breath. He could feel the heat radiating off of her sex. "I've been ready since I got here."

"Cowgirl position okay with you?" she said, pushing back so the flare pressed against her wet lips.

"Yes. Please." He smiled up at her. "I want to look at your face when you come."

"Wait," she said, pulling off him.

"WHAT NOW?!"

"Jes' listen fer a minute," she said. She was chewing on her bottom lip, and for a moment Flim regretted shouting at her. "I... I know y'don't think it's yers, but... well, I can count, y'know. There ain't no way anypony else could be the father."

He tried to bump his hips up to meet her, but she moved away again. "Why not? What about the stallion you had before me? Or after?"

"There ain't been a stallion after you," she mumbled. She was blushing. "An', well, if the one before you got me pregnant... I'd have a foal in school by now."

That got his attention. "What, really?"

"Yeah, really. I bet you got somethin' smart t'say about that, huh?"

It really surprised her that he didn't. "And you, um, chose me to break your dry spell?"

"I was desperate."

"Oh, thanks."

"Naw, I didn't mean it like that!" She sat down on his belly, his dick resting against the swell of her haunch. With a sigh, she leaned down until they were cheek-to-cheek and whispered in his ear: "I jes' meant there's no way in a million years I ever thought I'd...y'know... with you of all ponies. I don't know what I was thinkin'."

"You were drunk and horny. We both were."

"It's more than that..." She trailed off.

"What... AH!"

His eyes rolled back when she slammed down on him, her butt slapping loudly against his hips.

"Took... it all... in one," he managed between gasps. "That's... really.... impressive."

"Mmm." Applejack squeezed her thighs together, just sitting there for a moment, relishing the feeling. Oh, yes. She'd certainly missed this. She could even feel it twitching a little inside her, something her dildo never could do. And warm... "Ah, that feels good."

"You know what would feel better? If you started moving."

"Take it easy, I'm gettin' there." She slowly slid up a few inches and then sunk back down, enjoying both the feeling of being filled again and the tortured little gasps coming from her partner.

"Mm, oh yeah," she mumbled with another bounce. "Ah... Ah... Oh, feels so big..."

"Didn't...fuck!...didn't you call it a toothpick?"

She laughed, quickening her bouncing. "I was tryin' t'get a rise outta you."

"You certainly did that!"

"Aw, did I hurt yer fragile little male ego?"

When his face pinched up, she stopped. "Hey," Applejack said, placing a hoof on his cheek. "I didn't mean nothin' by it."

She smiled when he relaxed. "Heh. I know. I saw the look on your face when you first got a glimpse of it."

The hot blush even crept up the back of her neck as she went back to bouncing. "Shucks, am I really that readable?"

"Nng!" He screwed his eyes closed and did his best to move against her rhythm. "Let's, ah! Let's just say I'd really love to play a game of high-stakes poker with you."

She hadn't even realized that the whole time she'd been on top of him, his tail had been softly running up and down her leg. "I'll admit I ain't good at that."

"I bet I could win with a pair of deuces!"

"Watch it, buster," she said, grinning. "I jes' might take ya up on that."

"You know I'd win. You couldn't trick me."

When she froze mid-slide he thought he'd pushed it too far, but then a very weird smile replaced the shocked expression. "I couldn't trick ya, huh?"

Applejack reached over to the nightstand and scooped up the empty mug. Bopping him lightly on the snout with it, she added "Y'sure about that, Sleeping Beauty?"

"....I'm never going to live that down, am I?"

"An' what about when I talk like this, young'un?"

Flim's back shuddered involuntarily. "Oh, Celestia, stop! That fucking voice, ugh!"

"Hyuk! You should see yer face right now!"

He rolled his eyes. "Har har."

"I meant it. You should see yer face." Applejack touched his cheek. "I put a lil' makeup on ya when you were out. See?"

She pulled her hoof back and, yes, there was a streak of what looked like rouge on it.

"WHAT---?!"

This time she threw her head back laughing, almost hopping up and down as her strong leg muscles started to take over. "Ahahahaha! Oh boy, that was a hoot!"

"Well, ah, at least you didn't draw a dick on my face. Ah! I can't count how many times Flam's done that to me."

She just snorted. Boys.

"Why... why do you have makeup?"

"I'm a girl," she said with a little edge in her voice.

"I figured that out awhile ago, my dear."

She couldn't believe what she said next. "Well, sometimes I wanna feel pretty!"

"You don't need makeup. Mmm... You're beautiful."

Applejack bit her lip and closed her eyes. Was he just saying that because he had to? No, she thought when she opened her eyes again. He looks like he means it.

She leaned a little to the side, pulling her left leg up.

"What.... are you---?!"

"I'm gonna twist on ya!"

And then she swung her leg right over his body, clenching on his cock. Applejack let out a wild cry as she spun around, squeezing her cunt down as hard as she could, and twisted right on top of him. She could feel his member jerk up against her.

Flim screamed. "APPLEJACK!""

"Puh-leeease!" she squealed as she sat down with a wet squelch.

"Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!!!"

Applejack's back was turned, of course, so she couldn't see his expression. But she knew what just happened. She'd felt it.

"Are you serious?" she barked, turning around. His cock slid out of her, as well as a gush of semen. "You just finished?!"

"Five.... five minutes, and I'll get hard again," he panted. "Two if you sit on my face."

She grabbed the pillow he'd screamed into earlier and started swatting his face with it.

"You! Are! Such! A! Stallion!" she shouted, punctuating every word with the pillow.

"I try. OW!"

"Argh! Y'didn't even let me get close!" She threw the pillow down beside him and flopped onto it, irritated beyond belief. "Y'know, I shoulda taken my friend's advice and switched teams! Ugh, stallions!"

"Whoa!" His eyelids had been drooping, but now he was fully alert. "A friend of yours tried to.... convert you?"

She knew that had been a mistake. "Uh...well...yeah."

"Oh boy! You just got infinitely more interesting!"

Applejack rolled away from his grin.

"Well, by all means, tell me more! I think I can be up and ready again quite soon, ha! Oh! Please tell it it was that adorable yellow pegasus with the cute little flank!"

"It wasn't Fluttershy," she said with a sharp, startling pang of jealousy. "An' never you mind her flank."

"It couldn't have been the one who looks like a drag queen..."

"Not Rarity, either."

"The nerd?"

"No! Stop guessin'!" She finally turned around again, scowling. That didn't diminish his smile at all, though. "An' don't get yer hopes up. Nothin' happened."

"That's disappointing. Weren't you at all curious?"

"NO." Applejack blushed and shook her head. "I wasn't raised that way, t'go swingin' around like that!"

She watched as the corners of his mouth pulled back down. "Oh."

"It ain't right."

Now his lips thinned to a line. "Applejack, I'm surprised at you."

"What?"

"One of your best friends likes mares, and then... you'd go and say something like that? I thought you'd be more open-minded."

"Ha! The last time a stallion told me t'be open-minded, he tried talkin' me into a threesome." She sighed and tried to nuzzle against him, but he didn't reciprocate. "Look, I ain't got a problem with fillyfoolers. My own cousin's a coltcuddler, y'know. It's jes... y'pick a side, and y'stick to it. Swingin' around's fer porn stars an' confused high school fillies."

"I.... see."

"What d'you care? You like mares." Applejack finally let herself smile, and moved to straddle his barrel. "An' y'know what?"

"What?"

"Even though yer a pain in the ass..." She leaned down and looked him in the eye. "I kinda like you."

There were a few seconds of silence, and then Flim chuckled. "You're lucky you're cute. I kind of like you, too."

"Hmm... I c'n tell," she said, wrapping her tail around his stiffening dick.

"Ah! Go easy on me! It's, er, still a little sensitive."

"Go easy? No way." With a few quick jerks, she'd brought him nearly back up to full mast, and then pressed her lips to his. His tongue was between them in a second, but she pushed back, sliding along the roof of his mouth. Her gasp was muffled when he started sucking, drawing her deeper, until the tip of her tongue was nearly in his throat.

"Mmm... mmm... mmm!"

She dimly remembered the way he'd sucked on her tongue the first time they'd been together, and how wet it had made her then. It was certainly having the same effect now... so he had a good memory, remembered what she liked. Not bad.

Then she also remembered his tongue had been on her ass not too long ago, and she pulled back with a smack.

"You ready to ride?"

"I---"

For some reason, she had a feeling she didn't want to hear the answer, so she kissed him again. Dirty though it was, she let him slip his tongue into her mouth. Pressing back blindly, Applejack wiggled her hips around until she felt the tip of his dick hit the mark.

"Okay," she said, pulling away from the kiss. "I'm gonna go slow this time."

Flim smiled and shifted his position a little. His limbs were starting to get sore, but he found that he didn't mind. "We have all night."

They sighed in unison as she began inching her way down. Neither spoke for a minute or two as she eased into it, grunting a little when he finally bottomed out.

"Oh sweet Celestia..."

Applejack squeezed him with her thighs. "You okay?"

"Ah..." He looked like he was in heaven. "You're still so tight!"

She chuckled and began gently rocking. "Take it easy. You better last longer this time 'round."

"I will. I promise."

Applejack suddenly lurched forward and gulped. "Hrk..."

"What? What is it?"

"I..." She put a hoof to her belly and retched a little.

Flim twisted his head to the side. "Okay, if you vomit on me, I am going to kick your dog."

"I ain't gonna puke," she whispered hoarsely, her eyes focused somewhere beyond his line of sight. "I.... just felt it move."

"Huh?"

"It moved," she said. She seemed to be in a daze as she looked down at her belly. "It just... rolled around inside me."

He looked down at where her hoof was. "Really?"

"I..."

Before he could say anything else, Applejack's head dropped and she burst into tears.

"Oh sweet Celestia! Applejack, what--?!"

To his shock, she kept rocking against him, her tears pouring down her face and throat.

"Wait...Applejack..." he said as a growing fear crawled up his neck, "Please. Stop."

"No," she sobbed. "Y'came here jes' t'fuck me, right? Well, I might as well give ya what you want!"

"I can't...I can't do this if you're crying!"

"Why do you care?!" she shouted. "All you ever wanted to do was fuck me! And fuck me over!"

"Applejack, are you crazy? Stop it!"

"Fine!" She yanked herself off him with a grunt and started biting at the ropes, sliding the ring off with a hoof. Once his magic was back, he turned his head and began untying the bindings on the other side. Between the two of them they managed to get him untangled, and Applejack kicked the ropes off the bed, turning her back to him. "Go back t'yer room if y'don't want to do it anymore."

She sobbed into her pillow as the mattress shifted, but instead of getting off the bed, he rolled closer. Spooning behind her, he carefully put a foreleg around her and kissed the back of her neck.

"Get out!"

"Applejack," he said gently, "Why are you crying?"

She turned around to look at him, then down at the swollen belly resting against his flat one. "Because I'm scared!"

"Shh." He kissed the tears off her face, even though they were quickly replaced. "I know. I'm scared, too."

"Why?" she said. He hadn't stopped kissing her cheeks. "You could jes' run off. I'm stuck with it."

"Shh. Don't talk like that." He began stroking her mane, and after a few sniffles, Applejack put her head against his chest.

"Well ya could!"

"Do you really think I'm going to run off?"

She sighed. "It's what you do fer a livin'."

"Speaking of which," he said, putting his chin on her head, "I've found out the hard way that you have family all over Equestria. Do you know how hard it's been finding a town that won't have some idiot in the crowd shouting out 'My cousin told me about you!'?"

"Cry me a river," she muttered as she wiped her face with the back of her hoof.

His chest shook against her face as he laughed. "And your psychotic big brother tracked us down once. I wouldn't be surprised if he did it again, this time with bullets. And probably a semi-automatic---"

"Stop."

The foreleg around her pulled her in tighter. "Shh, shh. I'm just teasing you."

He wasn't too shocked when she pulled away, but the strange look on her face puzzled him. "I jes' thought a' somethin'."

"What?"

"The last time I cried in front a'you, you laughed in my face."

"Well, uh..." He could feel his face heating up. He had kind of kicked himself for doing that. "That was then, this is now."

Applejack sighed and put her face back on his chest, but not before smearing the tears off his coat.

"For the record?"

"Mm?"

He kissed her flickering ear. "I didn't notice you were crying, sweetheart."

Applejack's breath hitched, but she kept her face pressed against him. That was.... strange, to say the least. That was the first time he'd called her by a term of endearment that didn't sound sneeringly sarcastic. And he'd said it softer---sweeter?---somehow, than his usual 'my dear'.

"W-what?"

"I said, I didn't see you were crying. If I had, I can assure you that I wouldn't have laughed."

"Really?"

She pressed her whole body against him, and jolted a little when she felt his still-hard cock pressing against her thigh. He just hugged her closer.

"And I'm not going to laugh at you now. It's okay, sweetheart. You can cry."

A fresh flood started. "I d-don't know what I'm gonna do!" she wailed against him. "I been so scared this whole time, an' when I felt it move, I jes'---I---I dunno..."

"It became real?"

"Yeah." Maybe she was that readable after all. "You got any bright ideas?"

"I was considering running around like a chicken with its head cut off, but I already did that on the train."

Even between her sobs she managed a laugh. "That ride over here musta been somethin'."

"Actually..."

Applejack pushed back to look at his face, and was shocked to see how contorted it was. "What? What is it?"

"I... have to give your brother credit. He's not a monster."

"A'course he ain't!"

"He talked me down from a panic attack."

"...Oh."

Putting her head back on his chest, she let out her breath and began stroking her hoof up and down his spine. Panic attacks. So that was what the medication was for.

"Y'know, he's real sweet an' kind. He never gets this mad."

"You're pregnant, sweetheart. And I'm the father. I'm really not surprised he's angry."

He smiled when he felt her mouth twist up.

"Y'shoulda seen how Granny reacted when she found out it was you."

"Oh?"

"Well..." Applejack chuckled. "She was in the pharmacy an' overheard some ponies gossipin' about it. We, uh, had to pay quite a bit fer all the stuff she broke."

"Snk--ahahahaha!"

"I had no idea she could throw a whole case a' baby food all the way down the aisle."

"Hm... speaking of 'down the aisle'," he said, "You, er, you don't really want to get married, do you?"

She sighed, the smile fading. "No."

"Well, what do we do now?"

Applejack put her hooftip again her chin and frowned. "Uh... well, it's Friday night..."

"So?"

"So the courthouse ain't open 'til Monday."

He nodded. "That gives us a few days to think of something."

"Oof!"

They both quickly looked down at where their midsections were touching.

"I felt that!" he said with a huge smile. "It kicked! I felt that one!"

"Hoo boy!" Applejack's smile came a little later, and it was crooked. "If that's what bein' kicked feels like, I got a bunch a'tress to apologize to."

Flim put his hoof against her belly, but he didn't say anything.

"Hey." She kissed his forehead. "Listen."

"What?"

"You. Um. You didn't..." Her leg pressed against his member. "You didn't get to finish."

"Neither did you."

"You wanna... go again?"

He moved his hoof from her belly to her shoulder, and gently pushed her onto her back. "Can I be on top this time?"

She spread her legs around him as he moved into position. "Heh! Sure."

"Hm." He leaned back a little and kissed her belly. "You get any bigger and it's going to be hard to fuck you missionary-style."

"Flim?"

"Yes?"

"Um..." Applejack turned away, but he pressed his snout against her cheek and nuzzled her until she looked him in the eye again. "I don't want you t'fuck me. Can... uh... can we make love instead?"

Poker Face

View Online

"Aw, man!" Soarin' pouted as he watched yet another stack of chips being swept away from him. "I don't believe it! That's the fifth time in a row!"

"Yeah, you must be having a bad day or something," Misty Fly said, ducking her grin behind her not-insignificant pyramid of chips. There was an unspoken rule amongst the Wonderbolts to avoid inviting Soarin' to any card games; his poker face was so terrible even Echo could see through it. It didn't help that every time he got dealt a face card his wings would pop open---and they'd flutter if he got an ace. Their rule didn't hold, however, if he asked to play, and so a group of them were raking in his take-home pay in a dark corner of the hotel bar.

"Yeah," Soarin' said with a groan as Spitfire flicked out the next round. "A really bad day. A day from Tartarus. A---"

Blaze gestured towards the bar with a nod of his head. "Heh. Not as bad at that guy's, I bet."

They all put a protective hoof over their face-down cards and turned to look. The only patron sitting at the bar proper was a gangly stallion who was pounding back a long line of shots.

"Eighteen... nineteen... twenty? He's doing twenty shots in a row?" Misty frowned. "That can't be healthy."

"Oh, it's him?"

She looked back in surprise. "You know him?"

Spitfire nodded. "He's the one we went to speak to earlier. His brother went missing..."

"That's odd. If a family member's missing, don't you think he'd rather be out there looking for him instead of getting liver cirrhosis?"

Nopony at the table noticed Soarin' slowly sliding down in his seat.

"Odd is exactly the word I'd use," Spitfire went on. "He was a real character, that one. Acted completely dodgy when I offered help. In fact, you know what?" Out of the corner of her eye, she clocked Blaze moving to switch a card, and kicked him under the table. "As soon as I mentioned the Royal Guards, he looked like he was about to panic."

"Trouble with the law, huh?" Blaze said, rubbing his leg against the chair. "Should we keep an eye on him?"

Spitfire tapped her hooftip against the table and slid her cards towards her chest. "Hm... he hasn't technically done anything wrong. Yet. Strikes me as just a small-time hood. We don't really need to waste our time---"

The stallion's ear twitched, and he turned around to face their table; even though he quickly snapped his attention back to his shots, Spitfire noticed a flicker of recognition between him and her captain, who---

"FUCK!" Soarin' shouted as he jumped from his seat. "I just remembered somethingIgottagobye!"

They all watched as he slammed through the crowd and disappeared into the stallions' room.

"Jeez, what was that about?" Blaze said.

Misty shook her head with a tut-tut. "I told him not to eat all those burritos."

He turned Soarin's cards over and let out a low whistle. "Damn! Not a moment too soon. He had a Royal Flush!"

"Misty, shuffle the cards and deal out the next round. Keep an eye on that one," she said, "And on Blaze, too. I saw him trying to switch a card out."

"I was not!"

"Hey!" she called after her boss. "Where are you going?"

"To get to the bottom of this."

Applejack smiled sleepily as the sound of the rooster's crow came through the open window. She stretched her legs and hugged herself a little under the comforter; it had been so long since she'd woken up warm and sore from a long night of lovemaking. She'd almost forgotten how nice it was to fall asleep in another pony's embrace...

"Ugh. It's too early to be conscious." Flim rolled over and put a foreleg around her. "I suppose that bird doesn't have a snooze alarm."

Her eyes shot open. That had ripped her out of her early morning reverie like a bucket of cold water. "Aah! Yer still here?!"

"Hm?"

She sat bolt upright and shoved him. "Get out!!" she said. "Y'said you'd leave after I fell asleep!"

"Oh, shit!" He started scrambling off the bed. "I just closed my eyes for a second---"

"Move, move!"

They both froze when the doorknob started to turn.

"Please tell me you locked it," Flim whispered.

"Applejack!" Big MacIntosh began pounding. "Applejack, you open this door RIGHT NOW!"

They looked at each other in horror, and then Applejack began her first ever game of charades, frantically gesturing under the bed.

"I'm gonna count to ten, and then I'm gonna kick it open!"

"Hold on, I'm just wakin' up!" she called to the door as she shoved her hooves against Flim's rump; his back legs were skittering, and he seemed to be stuck halfway under the bed.

"One, two, three..."

"Hurry up!" she hissed, ducking her head under the bed. "What's takin' so long?"

"Four, five, six..."

"My horn's stuck on a spring!"

"Seven, eight, nine..."

With a mighty shove---and a sproinging sound---she got him unstuck, and his back legs and tail disappeared just as her brother shouted "TEN!"

Applejack gasped and jumped back on the bed as Big MacIntosh delivered on his threat, sending the door flying into the room. She quickly pulled the covers up to hide the evidence of their activities the previous night.

"What'd you do that for?!" she shouted. "Y'broke my door right off its hinges!"

He stomped into the room, nostrils flaring. "Where is he?!"

"Uh... he ain't in his room?" Technically, not a lie.

"A'course he ain't! Now. Where. Is. He?!"

"Maybe he had to get up and pee." Still not a lie.

"Tell me where he is," he snarled pushing his face right up against hers.

"Why?"

"So I can KILL him!"

"Mac," she said as carefully as she could, "Jes' because he ain't in his room don't mean nothin'. Maybe he decided to be nice fer once in his life and go make some coffee."

They stared each other down. Applejack never had a good poker face, but she managed to meet her brother's glare without blinking.

"WACHOO!"

"Son of a bitch," she said, closing her eyes.

"Well it's not my fault you don't vacuum properly!" Flim snapped as he crawled out, smoothing the dustbunnies out of his mane.

"You're DEAD!!!"

"No! Mac, don't!" she cried out as she jumped between them. "Please don't!"

"You call yerself a stallion? Huh? You proud of yerself?!" he screamed over her shoulder as he tried to get around her, "Cowering behind a mare like that?"

She made sure to keep a jump ahead of him; while she didn't like being a living shield, she liked the idea of disposing of a corpse even less. "Mac, easy!"

"And YOU!" He rounded on her, making her flinch back against Flim. "How could you? How could you do that with HIM in THIS HOUSE?"

"I... I don't know!" she said helplessly. "He jes' came into my room an' we started talkin' and one thing led to another---"

There were veins popping out on his neck. "Applejack, I could kill you right now!!"

"Stop it!"

"Y'think Ma would be proud a'you, huh?!"

"STOP IT!" she shouted, tears prickling under her eyelids.

"Look, MacIntosh... you're angry," Flim said slowly, "But you're not going to do anything stupid."

"TRY ME!"

Applejack squeezed her eyes tight and felt a hot streak down her face. "Flim, fer fuck's sake, jes' shut up!"

"Just listen, both of you. You're pregnant, and I'm a bleeder. He's got more honour than to hit either one of us."

Applejack swallowed heavily, but she did notice that his words had an effect---her brother had backed off, just slightly.

Edging out from behind her, Flim said "Now, I'll admit this wasn't the smartest thing we could have done, but it's not a crime. What is a crime, however, is murder, and getting thrown in jail wouldn't be good for the family or the farm. He's not an idiot; he knows that."

Big MacIntosh huffed, but he didn't move.

"Besides," he finally said with a little smile, "If I'm dead, you can't make me marry her, now, can you?"

The silence that followed stretched on.

"You do still want us to get married, right?" Flim's smile had turned to a cocky grin. "Well, think it through; what do you suppose is going to happen---and quite regularly, I hope---once we're hitched? We're not going to sleep in separate beds, I can assure you of that... even if she does snore."

Big MacIntoshed turned, bent over, and started rooting around under the bed.

"Uh, Mac?" Applejack pressed her lips together. "He ain't under there anymore. What're y---"

When he saw what Mac had retrieved, Flim's eyes flew open. "No! No, don't!! Anything but---"

Without further ado, Big MacIntosh emptied the chamber pot over both of them, dropped it to the floor, and stomped off.

"YOU DID NOT JES' DO THAT!" she screamed at him.

Flim looked like he was going to faint. "I... had...my...mouth...open," he whimpered.

Soarin' was pacing around in a little circle, but when he saw her walk in he yelped and took to his wings.

"Spitfire!" he hissed. "This is the stallions' room!"

"I took the 'out of order' sign off the drinking fountain and put it out front," she said as she moved in on him.

"What if somepony tries to use the drinking foun---"

She didn't let him finish. "You know something that you're not telling me, Soarin'. You know I hate that."

"I... I know a lot of things you don't know," he started.

"That stallion at the bar. What about him?"

"Uh, his brother went missing and we went in to---"

"Cut the bullshit!" she shouted, pinning his shoulders to the wall. "The second you made eye contact, you took off like you'd seen a ghost. What is it about him that made you go all squirrelly?"

To her credit, she pulled back a little when she saw his ears and eyelids droop. "Oh. That bad, huh?"

He bit his lip and nodded.

"How bad are we talking?"

"Really bad."

"Specifics, Soarin'."

He drew in a breath, and after holding it for a second, he blurted "Okay I was the one his brother was with last night and I know who took him and we made a deal but if his brother gets hurt he wants me to pay up and I don't know what to dooo!"

"...Wait," Spitfire said as she watched him panting. "You were the one with him?"

"Y-yeah."

A very strange expression was creeping across her face. "And I suppose you two weren't just having a tea party in there."

"No," he said, blushing.

"For the love of Celestia, Soarin'," she said, the bewilderment apparent in her voice, "Since when are you a coltcuddler?"

"Uh... birth?"

His ears perked back up when she started to laugh.

"So, you're not mad at me?"

"Oh, I'm furious," she said with a smile. "But you just made me a thousand bits richer."

"What...?"

"We all had a bet going."

She turned her back on his frown and landed by the sink; after staring at them both in the mirror, she turned the tap on and ducked her head down for a drink.

"Okay, okay. Fine. We've dealt with slander before." She sat down and pressed a hoof to her face. "Nopony's going to take the word of some scumbag over a Wonderbolt's. We'll take it to court if we have to."

"We, uh, probably shouldn't do that."

"Why not?"

"There might be, uh..." He swallowed and looked away. "Evidence."

She raised an eyebrow. "Evidence?"

With a nervous step backward, Soarin' mumbled "He... um... had a camera?"

For a second his boss didn't respond, and then---well, he sure was glad he'd made some distance between them when she turned around and punched the mirror, sending shards skittering down on the sink.

"Hey! That's seven years' bad luck!"

"A camera?!" she screamed. "A CAMERA? How could you be so STUPID?!"

"H-he said he'd keep them for himself---"

"And you believed him?"

"Well, he seemed really nice!" he whimpered. "At first."

"So now somepony out there has a camera full of---I don't even know what, and I don't think I want to---and you were just planning on letting me find out the hard way?!"

"No!" he said, holding both front hooves up in front of him. "I told you, we made a deal! He seemed to know who the coltnapper was when I told him, and... and he said he was gonna go get his brother and then return the photos!"

"And you think you can believe him, too?"

"Well, no," he admitted. "But I don't have much choice."

Spitfire shot him a nasty look. "Not much choice? Soarin', when was the last time you saw the guy you made a deal with?"

"Five minutes ag...OH!"

They both slammed the door open at once, and Soarin' flew above the heads of the bustling bar patrons; he quickly scanned the room for horns, but the only one he was hoping to see was...

"He's gone," he said hopelessly.

Dirty Rotten Scoundrel

View Online

"GRA-A-A-ANNY!" Applejack screamed. "BIG MACINTOSH DUMPED MY CHAMBER POT ALL OVER ME AN' FLIM!"

"Did he now?" the old dam said from her rocking chair.

"Yeah! An' he got it all over my bed an' my rug an'..."

Granny turned her head a little, and they both saw her smirk. "So, Applejack, the two a'yes were in yer bedroom this mornin'? Eh? Issat what yer tellin' me?"

"Um...." She was glad her wet bangs were hanging over her face, hiding most of her blush. As soon as she heard the snicker from beside her, Applejack held up a dripping hoof and snapped "Not a word outta you!"

"Well. Serves ya' right." Granny turned around and went back to pushing the chair back and forth, squeaking both the floorboard and her rusty joints. "Don't think I don't know 'bout the colt y'snuck into yer bedroom when you were sixteen, young'un. At least he had the smarts t'climb out the window."

Ignoring Flim's laughter, Applejack just hung her head and mumbled "But he was a pegasus..."

"Now the both a'yes go an' get washed up! Yer drippin' all over the floor!" When she heard Applejack turn for the stairs, Granny added "Ah-ah! Nope! Y'ain't messin' up my nice clean bathroom with that muck! Out to the river! Git!"

With a sigh, Applejack nodded to Flim and headed for the mudroom. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him grab a bar of soap from the kitchen sink.

"She seems to be taking it well," he remarked as the screen door slammed behind them.

"Better'n Big MacIntosh..."

"Any reaction would be better than his."

They trotted along in silence over the crest of a hill and onto the muddy riverbank. Applejack shuffled her way into the water first. "C'mon in. It ain't as cold as it looks."

"If you say so," he said as he gingerly inched his way in. "I apologize in advance if I start speaking in soprano."

Applejack lowered herself from a standing position to sitting; when her belly submerged in the icy water she felt a sharp jump inside her, and couldn't help but smile a little. She tucked her legs protectively around her midsection, easing down into the sticky riverbed.

She opened her mouth to speak, but it turned into a gasp when she felt hooves on her back. They moved from her shoulder blades to scoop up her ponytail, and then with a surprising gentleness, Flim began tug the band loose.

"What're ya doin'?"

"I'm going to wash your mane."

"Uh... " She hadn't let anypony do that since she was a filly. "O-okay."

He spat the band out onto a rock, and rubbed the thick blonde hair between his hooves. He used his magic to scrub the bar of soap up and down her mane until he'd worked up enough of a lather. The acrid stink of stale urine slowly changed to the fruity smell of soap, and he smirked when he heard a quiet nicker from below him.

Applejack ducked her head under the water and tossed her mane back and forth, shaking the froth loose. When she resurfaced she turned to return the favour, but he was already soaping himself up.

"How long do you think the Warden's going to stay mad?" he asked casually.

"He was mad enough when I got knocked up," Applejack sighed. "Now he's furious."

"Mm-hm. He'll get over it."

"You don't know him like I do! He gets real pig-headed sometimes..."

"What? A stubborn Apple? Really?"

He managed to dodge the spray of water she shot at him.

"Applejack, listen to me," he said, placing a hoof on her shoulder. "He'll forgive you. Me? Probably not. But you have nothing to worry about."

"How can y'be so sure?"

The despondent look on her face tugged at something inside him, and Flim pulled her into a quick hug. "Remember last night when I said I ruined Flam's wedding?"

That had piqued her curiosity. "Uh huh."

"Well, it wasn't my fault. Er..." He bit his lip. "Okay, it was my fault. A bit. But it was the bride's sister who let the cat out of the bag."

"What?"

"During the rehearsal dinner, she got roaring drunk and started making a speech. She started going on about how nice and forgiving Flam was, to the point where everypony was starting to look confused. And, er..."

Applejack raised an eyebrow as she noticed his blush darken. "Then that stupid bitch said 'He's so kind to let his brother be his best man, even after he slept with his fiancee!'"

Her jaw just went slack. "Oh... sweet... Celestia."

He at least had the decency to look shame-faced. "Yes, it... didn't end well."

"What did he do?" she whispered.

Flim chuckled under his breath. "What do you think? He jumped across the table and beat the shit out of me." He'd finished washing the lather out of his coat, and climbed out of the river. After shaking most of the water out of his mane, he went on: "If it weren't for the groomsmen pulling him off of me, I probably would have died. As it was, I was in the hospital for two months. Seven transfusions."

Applejack was still sitting in the river, barely even aware of the water rushing around her. She was flat-out stunned.

"He came to visit me once," he added. "Just long enough to tell me the wedding had been called off and that he never wanted to see me again."

She joined him on the riverbank, but her eyes didn't meet his; they were a little higher. "Does that horn a'yers have much blood in it?"

"Uh...no. Why?"

"Good. Then I won't feel bad about doin' this." And she whacked it as hard as she could.

"OW! Jeez!"

"How couldja do that to yer own brother?!" she hollered as he groaned in pain. "Y'ain't nothin' but a dirty rotten scoundrel!"

"Weren't you listening?" Flim said sharply. "He put me in the hospital! Don't you think I've already paid for what I did?"

"I don't care! There ain't no good reason to do somethin' like that!"

"You're right. There isn't." Still rubbing his horn, he sighed and looked away. "What can I say? I was nineteen. I was young and stupid."

"Yer still stupid."

Ignoring that one, he said "Well, getting to the point of the whole story.... I really believed him. We split ways, and I didn't see him for four years."

"But...?"

"But, well, as Fate would have it, we ran into each other." He folded his legs and laid down on the grass. "We have the same magic, so sometimes when he's using his I can feel it. But only if we're close enough, about a hundred yards. I was in a saloon, and I'd already had a premonition when I saw the bouncer do a double-take when he looked at me. I found him on the dance floor, and before I could think of what it would look like, I ran up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder---"

She frowned, lying down next to him. "'What it would look like'?"

He shook his head, smiling, and put a foreleg around her shoulders. "You really don't dance much, do you? When you tap a dancer on the shoulder, it means you're cutting in. You want to take their partner."

"Oh!" She put a hoof over her mouth. "I guess that would be bad, considerin' you...?"

"You think? I dodged the punch," he said. Applejack noticed he hadn't removed his leg, so after a moment's hesitation, she leaned against him.

"The bouncer had his eye on me---I don't blame him, really---and threw us out before it could get any worse. I managed to talk Flam down---"

"Wait," she said. "He was ready to try an' knock yer lights out again, when he didn't hesitate before, and you jes'... talked him down?"

He waved his free hoof dismissively. "Please. I can talk myself out of any bad situation."

"Any bad situation? Like a bunch'a angry ponies who don't wanna pay fer cider with rocks in it?"

She laughed at his expression. "Or when a big angry stallion with a gun comes knockin'? You talk yerself outta that one, huh?"

"Okay," he said, his ears flattening.

"What about when y'go from a 'full salute' to half-mast---"

"OKAY!"

"I don't think y'talked him down," she went on, turning her smile away. "I think you ran away."

"Of course I did!" he snapped.

"And I think you screamed like a little filly the whole time!"

"Argh!"

This was way too much fun. "So when he was chasin' you all over town, did all the neighbours open their windows and point and laugh?"

"We got thrown in the drunk tank!" he said in exasperation. "Separate cells, thank Celestia. And I did talk him down. By morning."

After a silence, Applejack leaned over and nuzzled him gently. "Glad he could see it in his heart to forgive you."

"Well, it was hard. We still went our separate ways for awhile, but this time we kept in touch." Flim took his foreleg off her back, crossed his ankles, and then rested his chin on them. "It wasn't until our sister had a pretty bad health scare that we saw each other face-to-face again."

"She doin' okay now?"

"As 'okay' as she'll ever get," he said, rolling his eyes. Before Applejack could ask what that meant, he went on: "After that, I guess it just really hit us how important family was, seeing how little of it we actually have. We stuck together from then on, and well, the rest is history."

"I 'spose."

"Besides, look at this." Flim's tail swished against her flank, and she looked back down at his. "What do you suppose our cutie marks mean?"

"That ya work with apples?"

"Besides that. Mine is an apple slice; his is an apple with a slice cut out of it. Think it through, my dear."

"Well, let's see." She tapped her hoof against her chin, pretending to be deep in thought. "Heh! That's kinda kinky, actually! Yer 'little piece' is jes' the right size to slide into his---"

She finally let her laugh loose when she heard him groan. "I walked right into that one, didn't I?"

"I'm jes' givin' ya a hard time," Applejack said, and was relieved to see him smile back. "It means the two a' you are... what, parts 'a the same whole?"

"Yes. Or that we're... I don't know. We need each other to be whole." When he saw the look on her face, he added "Oh for Luna's sake, I didn't mean it that way. You're not a twin; you wouldn't understand."

"I wouldn't?" Applejack rubbed her flank up against his. "Y'know how I got my cutie mark? I was guided back home after tryin' to leave who I was behind."

"So?"

"So I feel empty without my family," she said softly. "....Jes' like you."

Again she rested her head against his shoulder, and they sat together in silence, watching as the last curve of the sun pulled off the horizon.

"It must be nice to have a place to call home," Flim said under his breath.

"Huh?"

"This isn't going to work, is it?" he went on, as if she wasn't there. "You're not going to leave your home or your family, and I can't just abandon Flam..."

She brushed her lips against his cheek. "Is he still sore 'bout his ex-fiancee?"

One ear twitched a little. "Yes. Of course he is. But we agreed to let bygones be bygones. He admits she'd have been terrible for him, anyway."

Applejack chuckled. "Oh, so you were doin' him a favour?"

"The marriage was doomed from the beginning. This mare, I... I just don't know what he saw in her."

She nudged his ribs. "Probably the same thing you saw."

Her smiled faded a little when she saw his jaw clench. "She was... look, there are no words to describe her. She was the most aggravating pony I've ever met," he said with a tight smile, "And I've met you."

"So why'd you sleep with her, huh?"

He laughed. "Trust me, Applejack, if you ever met her, you'd want to stuff something in that annoying maw, too. It's the only way to get her to shut up."

"Hey." Applejack's frown dissolved his smile. "I asked ya a question, an' that ain't a real answer."

"...Look," he said finally. "It was a long time ago. Before Flam grew that stupid moustache. It was late at night, after a party, and I was trying to sleep on the couch. She started cuddling up to me... it was dark..."

"She thought you were him?"

"I suppose so, at first."

Applejack narrowed her eyes. "But you knew better."

He held a hoof up as if she'd pointed a gun at him. "Hey, I didn't know it was her!"

"What, she had a twin, too?"

"No!" he said, pressing his lips together. "I told you, it was dark. I felt a mare rubbing up against me, and..."

"And you jes' decided t'have some fun even though y'had no idea who she was?"

"I was nineteen!" he said as he rose. "My hormones were going crazy---"

"That's no excuse!"

"You don't know what it's like being a teenaged colt."

"Oh yeah? Have you ever been in heat?"

She smiled when his face went red. "Well, no, but..."

"But nothin'." Applejack got to her hooves, too, and stretched her neck to the side until she heard a 'pop'. "As soon as y'found out it was her, y'shoulda stopped, hormones or no."

Flim scoffed. "Oh, right, go ahead and judge me, because you've never done something stupid while hormonal. On a completely unrelated note, how's the baby doing?"

The clang of a bell cut off her retort.

"Well," Applejack said acidly, "Breakfast's done. You ready t'face the music?"

"THERE HE IS!"

Spitfire tucked her wings against her sides and rolled out of her flying position, going in for a dive. An instant before colliding with a brick wall, her wings snapped open and caught the wind, propelling her to the side and down the alleyway she'd seen a flash of red-and-white tail disappear into.

"Do yourself a favour and stop running!" she shouted through the air whipping at her face. "I've got---"

Screeching to a halt on the dirty asphalt, Spitfire had to eat her own words---there was neither hide nor hair of him. "What?!"

Soarin' landed at her side a second later. "Well? Where is he?!"

"I..." She looked around her, her frown digging grooves into her face. There were four crooked, empty alleys and at least five doors hanging ajar; the mess of scuffled hoofprints on the ground were too entangled to discern. Groaning in irritation, she leaned against what looked like a long-abandoned caravan. "DAMMIT! I just had him! He was right there!"

"I know... I thought I saw him, too." Soarin' slumped to the ground. "Now what?"

"Looking for somepony, my good Wonderbolts?"

They both snapped their heads around, equally startled that somepony had been eavesdropping.

"Uh, yeah..." Soarin' said slowly, eyeing the odd-looking mare in front of him. "Did you happen to---"

"Would this pony be a rather dashing young stallion with a moustache and a striped vest?"

"Yes!" he said with a wide smile. He didn't notice Spitfire narrowing her eyes a little. "That's exactly who we're looking for! Did you see where he went?"

At that, the mare reared up on her hindlegs and tossed her mane over her shoulder. "Why, the Great and Powerful Trixie has the most exquisite of observational skills! She not only spotted said stallion while the two of you lost him, but she also had the keen presence of mind to notice where he was headed! The Gr---"

"Yes, you have eyes, and you used them," Spitfire said curtly. "We're very impressed. Now could you tell us where he went?"

Frowning, Trixie dropped back to all fours. "And if Trixie does divulge this information? What is in it for her?"

Soarin' bit the inside of his cheeks to keep from groaning. "You want money, too?"

"Trixie simply wishes you make it worth her while."

As soon as he noticed Spitfire's grin, Soarin' relaxed a little. He'd recognize her 'not gonna take shit' face anywhere. "Howsabout we don't ticket you for parking your caravan in a fire lane?"

The arrogant look on her face faltered. "Wh..."

"Or we could ignore the fact that you're trying to impede what's now a formal investigation. Sound good?"

The two mares glared at each other for a few seconds; then Trixie coughed, closed her eyes, and gestured to her left.

"He went down that alley," she said with a little ice in her voice. "When he came to the end of it, he looked both ways, and decided to take the right. If Trixie's memory serves, that route leads down to the docks."

Spitfire's smile returned. "See now? That wasn't so hard, was it?"

Before she could answer, Soarin' had grabbed one of her front hooves and begun shaking it enthusiastically. "Thank you! Thank you so much!"

"Trixie wishes you the best of luck on your search!" she called after them as they flew off. "You may need it."

Watching them leave, Trixie unconsciously fiddled with the clasp holding her robe together. After taking a few breaths, she poked her head into her caravan with a smile.

"They're go-o-one! You can come out now, pookie."

Moustache Ride [clop]

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"Are you sure they're gone?" Flam asked as he peeked around the wardrobe door.

"Why, of course! Trixie sent them down to the docks."

"And... they won't come back here looking for me?"

Trixie chuckled. "You don't know what the docks in Manehatten are like this time of night, do you?"

The joke came out before he could stop it: "Of course not! I'm not Flim."

That seemed to make her stiffen a bit, and Flam could feel his smile falter. "You, er... you certainly have some interesting outfits in there," he said, gesturing towards her closet.

Her snout crinkled as her eyebrows knit, and he flushed in alarm. Oh shit, not THAT face! Abort! ABORT! "You look wonderful, Trixie."

"Well, don't sound so surprised," she sniffed.

"Surprised? Oh no," he said, "I'm not surprised you look wonderful. I'm surprised to find a lovely filly like yourself in a rotten place like this..."

The snippy expression hadn't changed, so he added on a little something else: "...A place that clearly doesn't deserve the likes of you."

Just as he predicted, that instantly mollified her, and she flashed him that self-satisfied grin he was so used to. Yes, he was familiar with this song-and-dance of hers---Trixie knew how to spin golden compliments out of straw, and, for some reason, he was still more than happy to stroke her ego.

She IS much nicer buttered up, after all, Flam thought with a smirk.

She turned her back and pulled two mismatched mugs out of a crate that apparently served as a cupboard. "Now, since you made Trixie an accomplice, you may as well fill her in on why you're on the lam."

"A simple misunderstanding, my dear."

Trixie snorted, pouring what looked like rotgut into the chipped glasses. "Oh really? Do you remember exactly what you said when Trixie answered the door?"

"I---"

She dropped to her knees and placed her front hooves together, mimicking his panicked plea: "'Oh Trixie, please, please! Help me! I'll do anything you want!'"

His face went hot right up to the tips of his ears. "Now, listen---"

Now she was laughing. "The last time I heard you beg like that, you were wearing hoofcu---"

"Trixie!"

"Judging from the looks on those Wonderbolts' faces, Trixie thinks it was more than a 'simple misunderstanding'." She sat down on one side of the rickety table and levitated her glass. "Come. Sit."

He did so, albeit reluctantly. "Sharp as ever, Trixie."

"Was there ever any doubt?"

YES. "Long story short, I may have, er... been involved in a little.... blackmail."

"Ooh, a scandal?" she said, sipping. "No wonder Spitfire had such murder in her eyes. What, pray tell, did you catch her doing?"

Flam took a gulp, and only managed to gag it down after a bit of choking. Gads, the taste brought tears to his eyes. "Not her. Soarin'. And, er, 'murder in her eyes'...?"

"So what did you catch him doing, then?"

He eyed the tips of the photographs sticking out of his pocket. Don't say 'Flim'. Don't say 'Flim'. "You don't want to know."

When he turned back to her again, he was a little surprised to see Trixie's eyes dart up as well. She leaned across the table and took his hooves in hers. "Oh, pookie. You're going to be here for awhile, you know---you may as well spill the beans."

He sighed, but he did lean in as well. "Trixie, as much as I appreciate you letting me hide here, I really do need to leave. I need to get to Ponyville as soon as poss---"

"PONYVILLE?!"

"...You've been?" he said, wondering exactly why Trixie had recoiled like someone had shoved a red-hot poker in her eye.

She pounded the rest of her drink, and very, very slowly, the colour returned to her face. "Of c-course not!" she said with an affected haughtiness. Flam decided not to comment on how shakily she poured herself a rather generous refill.

He didn't bother finishing his own foul drink, and stood up as best he could; the five shots he'd had at the bar before weren't helping his balance much, and whatever Trixie had served him was so blearingly alcoholic he was sure he could light a fire with his breath alone. "I'm sorry, Trixie, I truly am. But I need to leave. I---"

She'd recovered from her near-faint, however. "Oh, don't be stupid. You're staying the night, and that's final."

"Flim's in trouble."

Well, that pricked her ears up. "He's in trouble? In Ponyville?"

"As far as I can gather, yes."

She leapt right over the table and landed an inch from his face. "Who's got him in trouble?" she demanded, taking a hoofful of his shirt in a death grip. "Tell me! Trixie has to know!"

"Well, I would tell you," he said, smiling a little despite how constricted his airway was. "But you wouldn't know who I was talking about, would you? Considering you've never been there, hm?"

Her left ear flicked back, and for a second her eyelids twitched a bit. But she quickly regained her composure. "You've been staying in a hotel, right?" she said, her head cocked a little to the side.

"Er, well, yes, but---"

Trixie hhmphed in satisfaction, and began smoothing the crease she'd left in his collar. "You must've left your belongings behind, then."

Oh. Now he could see what she was getting at. "I---"

"And it would be downright foolhardy to go back and get them now. Spitfire and what's-his-face may be stuck at the docks, but who's to say they didn't get one of their buddies to keep an eye on your room?"

She was right, dammit. "Trixie---"

She turned around and---Flam jumped a little---flicked her tail up against his muzzle. "Did you know they have a show tomorrow morning?"

He couldn't believe how hard he was blushing at the split-second peek-a-boo he got before her tail flopped back down. "Wh-what's that got to do with---"

"Come ten a.m., they'll all be occupied," she said primly as she took her seat again, and drained her glass. Damn. He'd forgotten how easily she could knock back drinks. "That's when you can go grab whatever it is you and, uh, your brother carry around with you. But until then---" She put her elbows on the table, folded her forelegs at the elbow, and pressed her chin down on her hooves, giving him a kittenish grin. "---you are Trixie's guest." And she actually batted her eyelashes.

They both knew that would make him melt.

Almost reflexively, Flam doffed his hat and smiled. "In that case... Thank you, Trixie. I owe you one."

To his great surprise, the mask of priggishness she usually wore dropped, and she looked vulnerable for a moment. Flam pulled his lower lip into his mouth, hiding his smile behind his moustache; there it was, that little tug to his heart that reminded him of why he'd fallen for her in the first place.

"Actually..." she began quietly, "Trix... I-I think we're even."

And a shift to the first person? Something must be on her mind. "What do you mean?"

"I..." She turned away, her cheeks stained pink.

He couldn't help it. He rounded the table and pulled her into a hug. She only hesitated for a moment before easing her head down against his barrel; Flam rubbed a hoof up and down her back, a little surprised to feel ribs under his forelegs. The Trixie he'd first met had been nice and plump, curvy in all the right places. He thought she looked like she'd lost weight, but hadn't realized quite how much until he felt her thin frame in his embrace.

"Shh, sugarplum," he whispered against her silver mane. "It's okay."

The murmur in his ear was so soft and sweet he had a hard time believing it came from her lips: "I... I hurt you. I'm so sorry."

When Flam pulled away, Trixie did so too, pulling her cape back around her sides. She wasn't looking at him. "...What?" he managed.

She glanced back up, still blushing, and her hat slumped a little to the side. "Flam, I... I didn't mean to break your heart."

He felt his breath hitch in his throat. "Trixie..."

"I really thought it was you under that blanket," she told the floor, "And... and when I found out it was your brother, I... well..."

"Trixie!" Flam took her face in his hooves, and gently turned her head so she was looking him in the eye. "Trixie," he said again, wiping his fetlock against the tear he was sure she'd deny was there. "It's fine."

"It was too late!" she blurted, her eyes wide and glistening. "He was already inside me! I didn't realize it was Flim 'til he started moaning---"

Oh, ouch. That mental image made him flinch, and Flam hurriedly swallowed down the bilious surge of emotion he felt rising in his throat. "I said it's fine. It was a mistake---"

But she wasn't done yet, apparently. "I-I just figured 'Why not? You're halfway there already, and this way you can compar---"

"That's quite enough!"

"You two have quite different styles, you know," she mused. "He's much more of a biter---"

"Trixie!" he shouted. "I forgave you a long time ago, but that doesn't mean I want to hear the details!"

They stared at each other wide-eyed, Flam's pulse pounding against his eardrums. Finally, Trixie cleared her throat.

"Flam?"

"...Yes?"

"Could you let go of Trixie's cape now?"

"Oh!" He hadn't realized how close he'd pulled her until he let go, and Trixie flopped down on her haunches.

"I'm sorry," he said as he sat down, too.

After examining her cape for rips or tears, Trixie undid the clasp around her neck and levitated it over to a hook on the wall. "No harm, no foul. We all make mistakes. Although..." Flinging her hat over her shoulder---and missing its matching hook---Trixie shook her mane loose and began a slow, deliberate walk around Flam. "...I suspect there'd be no mistaking who was who now, not with that... incredible new moustache you have." She ended that sentence with a nuzzle, her lips tickling over his.

"And that's exactly why I grew it," he said with a little peck. "...Although Flim says I look like a walrus."

"Well, a very charming walrus," she said with a wink, beginning to tug his bow tie loose. "So... are you or are you not going to fill Trixie in on what in Equestria is going on with you?"

A little swirl of magic caressed the side of her face, and then curled down to undo the buttons on his vest. "Come now, Trixie. We could sit and talk, but... isn't there something you'd rather be doing right now?" He nodded his head toward her unmade cot.

Hopping up on the bed, she patted the spot next to her and showed off what she probably thought was a come-hither smile. "Nice to see you have your priorities in order."

As he took his place beside her, Flam placed a line of kisses up along her jaw, ending with a sharp bite to the ear that made her gasp. "You know I can't think clearly when I'm around you."

His vest was now open, and two strands of different-coloured magic began unbuttoning the starched shirt underneath. As she slowly trailed her hooftip down his exposed chest, Trixie admitted "It... it has been awhile."

Flam was glad they were cheek-to-cheek; he didn't want her to see the look on his face. "Same here," he sighed.

"Mmm," she giggled as she tugged him closer. She grazed her hoof across the side of his vest. "Is that something incriminating in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?"

Flam smoothly guided her hoof up and around his withers instead. "Trust me. You really don't want to know. There isn't enough alcohol in Equestria to burn my memory clean, and I'd like to spare you the same fate."

She looked just over his shoulder with a pout of confusion. "Huh! That's a strange place to hang a piano."

"What?"

The second his head was turned, she snatched the photos from his pocket and shot out from under him. "Hah!" she crowed as Flam went sprawling down on the bed. "Gotcha!"

He made a swipe for the pictures, and fell on his face again. "Dammit, Trixie!!"

"Let's see what's got you all in a lather," she said, easily jumping out of the path of his blast. Holding the first photo backwards against her forehead, she closed her eyes---not before dodging him again---and said "Trixie predicts it's.... the Wonderbolt in lingerie. Is she close?"

"Give me those!"

"Only one way to tell! Trixie sure hopes you asked for a lot of biiiIIIIIIYAAAAH!!!"

Her shriek made his ears snap painfully back. "I told you not to look," he sighed.

"Sweet Celestia's tits!" she screamed. Her pinprick pupils were darting all around the first picture, unsure of where it was safe to land. "What---what---what is this? What am I looking at?!" She shoved the photo in his face, and Flam just barely had time to squeeze his eyes shut. "Explain this!"

"Well, sugarplum, sometimes when two strangers love each other very much..."

"Don't you be a smart-ass! Was Flim just..." A quick scan through the rest of the photos made her muzzle screw up even more. "...Just doing that for the sake of blackmail, or...?"

He already knew what was coming. "Or what?"

"...Or does he like stallions?" she finished, sotto voce.

Flam rubbed a hoof through his mane. "Er... the latter."

After returning to their normal size, her eyes drifted back down to the photos she had splayed out in her aura like a round of cards. "B-but... he... we..."

Her lips trembled a little, and for a moment he thought she was going to burst into tears---so her squeal of delight nearly knocked him flat again.

"I seduced a coltcuddler!" she cried out with an exultant flourish, throwing the photos over her head. "TRIXIE IS THE GREATEST LOVER KNOWN TO PONYKIND!"

Flam chuckled as he sat on the edge of the bed. It was probably best to let her have that one. "Is that so? Well," he said, leaning back on the mattress, fully aware that he probably looked ridiculous, "Would Trixie care to put her bits where that big mouth of hers is?"

He grinned when he saw her tail begin to flick back and forth in excitement. "You should know by looking at those pictures that big mouths are the most... practical. In fact," she added with a glance down at the ones that had landed face-up, "A few of these have given Trixie some inspiration."

"Do I dare ask which ones?"

She joined him on the bed but dodged his kiss, choosing instead to turn and swish her tail up and down his cheek. "Let's just say Trixie can't decide what to bury her face in first---the pillow, or your stifles."

"Ooh! You always were classy," he leered, and made a grab for her rump.

Giggling, she let him pull her by her haunches down towards his face. The bristle of his moustache against her sensitive inner thigh made her yank her leg up sharply. "Ah! That tickles!"

He couldn't resist trying something he'd only done once before---moving his mouth from side to side, which made the tips of his moustache dance between her legs, sweeping in teasing strokes across her sex. Judging from the patter of droplets against his nose, he was doing something right.

Trixie's shrieks of laughter melted into little gasps and moans as he gently brushed his lips over her puffy folds, covering them up and down in increasingly open-mouthed kisses; it wasn't long before she was furiously winking against his muzzle, grinding her hips back and forth, trying to keep the tip of his tongue against her clit.

"Ah! Right there!" she cried as he finally got his lips around her button. "Yes! Ah! Just like that!"

With a loud MMPH! she stuffed her face against his sheath, letting her tongue swirl around the first few inches that were creeping out. Even Trixie knew there were times when subtlety was the best... and that this wasn't one of them. The fact that one little nibble to his scrotum made his cock jump right up like a spring told her he'd been waiting far too long to be teased.

"Down the hatch," she whispered.

She swallowed as much as she could in one gulp; she'd never been able to deepthroat, and just barely got past his medial ring before her gag reflex kicked in. It didn't matter. Flam was already writhing around like a worm on a hook, his hindlegs bucking out at the empty air. She could feel his chest rapidly rising and falling against her belly, hot puffs of his breath washing along her pussy. As best she could with a cock in her mouth, Trixie grinned. Oh, how she loved making him squirm.

As Flam pulled up a bit to slide his tongue deep inside her, Trixie rounded her lips around his flare and bobbed her head down, corn-cobbing him a bit. It had been a while, indeed---she'd almost forgotten that huge vein he had running down his length. She pressed her lips against it, delighting in the feel of his heartbeat and the long moan her kiss drew out of him.

"Enough of that!" she declared as she leapt to her hooves. Talking over his groan of protest, she went on: "Trixie is craving something a little more substantial than your tongue."

Pushing him to the side, she lowered her barrel to the mattress and stuck her rump up in the air. "C'mon, pookie," she cooed, wiggling her hips back and forth. "Give your old girl a good rutting, will you?"

"I..." The sight was transfixing. Flam blinked a few times to clear the glaze out of his eyes; Trixie may have missed a few meals since he last saw her, but damn if she didn't still have that amazing ass!

Her tail was snapping around like a whip. "Well? What are you waiting for?"

"Just admiring the scenery, my dear," he answered, and gave her left buttock a playful bite.

She yelped when his hoof cracked down on the other side, making her cheeks jiggle. "Ah! C'mon, ándale! Trixie wants it, and she wants it now!"

"Whatever Trixie wants, Trixie gets," he answered as he hopped up on her back.

"Mmm, yes!"

There was silence for a few moments, broken only by their panting, as Flam poked around trying to find his mark. When he felt her soft folds part around his flare, he leaned down just enough to press his lips against her cheek. "Are you ready, sugarplum?"

"Wait."

"Uh... alright."

Trixie reached back and gave his elbow a reassuring pat. "Don't worry, you'll get to have some fun tonight. Trixie just thought we, um, we could..."

He was aching. He could feel the hot, sweet wetness that he wanted so badly to slide into; he desperately hoped she wouldn't make him wait too long. "W-what?"

"...try something new," she finished.

"Like what?"

"Well, for starters, why don't you inch your 'little Flam' up a bit?"

"I really wish you wouldn't call it that," he grumbled, but did as he was told.

"No, no. Higher."

"Like this?"

"Hiiiigher."

He looked down between their bodies. "Trixie, if I move it any higher, it's not going to go in!"

She put a hoof over her mouth and sniggered. "Indeed! Trixie wants you to aim for a different bull's-eye altogether."

"I... what?"

She sighed. Apparently she was going to have to spell it out for him. Inching her hips downward so that his flare slid right up under her tail, Trixie shook her ass a little and whispered "Right... there."

Tightening his grip, Flam stammered "Uh... I...I... really?" If he thought he'd been blushing before, well, now it felt as if his face was about to melt off. That particular flavour of intercourse had always been a bridge too far for her. "Are... are you sure?"

"Mm-hmm," she purred.

Flam gulped hard against the pounding in his throat. "Um... do you have... er, any..."

She rolled over with a coy little grin. "Lube? Now, now. Don't you worry about that." As her horn lit up, she said "Trixie knows a spell that---"

"NO!!!"

A balletic leap took him off the bed and halfway across the caravan, and Flam landed sprawled on his back, all four legs curled protectively over his groin. "No! Absolutely not! Don't you dare try it!"

"What, are you afraid of a little lubrication spell?"

"Do you remember what happened the last time you cast a spell on my dick?!"

She scoffed and tossed her mane. "You're being such a crybaby! It came back eventually."

"NO DICK SPELLS! And that's final!"

"Fine." Trixie leaned over the side of her cot and poked around below it for a few minutes. When she sat back up, she had a small bottle in her hoof. "Here."

She passed it to Flam, who turned it over in his hooves a few times. "This is very expensive stuff," she said thinly, "So you'd better be sparing with it! It's a special formula that's supposed to increase sensation for both partners, and it's hypo-allergenic, and---"

"Trixie?"

"You know I don't like it when you interrupt me!" she snapped.

He pointed to something printed on the bottlecap. "Er... this expired a few months ago."

"Oh, damn-fucking-nation!!!" she screamed.

Flam quickly tossed the bottle aside and put a foreleg around her. "Shh, shh! It'll be okay, sugarplum!"

She rested her head against his shoulder, and he got a good whiff of her mane. She always did smell sweet. "But I really wanted to try anal," she said petulantly.

"What?! You've never---?"

He noticed her cheeks flush. "N-no."

A hot swell of pride surged inside his chest, and his forelegs began to tremble. She wanted me to be her first...!

"Well, er..." He cleared his throat. "I don't want that expired stuff making you sick, Trixie, but... maybe..."

Her dour expression brightened. "Maybe what?"

With a shaky sigh, he said "...Maybe you can try that spell out after all."

"Really?" She tucked her head under his chin, being mindful not to jab him with her horn. "You'd let me do that?"

"S-s-sure. Just please be careful this time, okay?"

"Of course! Of course," she said, and moved so that she was sitting between his knees. She glanced up and saw the nervousness in his eyes. "Hey," she murmured, "I know what I'm doing this time."

Before he could answer, her horn crackled to life, and a tingling blue glow had surrounded his erection. Flam bit his lip as he watched the glitters of magic spiral from the tip to the base and back again; the feeling wasn't unpleasant, but he still braced himself for the loud bang he remembered so well.

It didn't come. "Voila!" Trixie cried out, hungrily eyeing his cock. "It worked!"

"It did?" Flam poked his member a bit. A very fine blue shimmer was covering it, but at least it was still there. "This'll work?"

"Let's put it to the test!" Her butt was up in his face in an instant.

But instead of mounting her again, Flam rolled onto his back, beckoning her closer. "If this is your first time, maybe you should be on top. You know, to give you more control over the speed?"

"Oh! Good idea."

She positioned herself on top of him and daintily lifted her tail, giving Flam a nice view of her tight little pucker right before it settled on his dick. He pressed his hooves against her cheeks and spread them apart, making Trixie suck her breath in and peek back over her shoulder. "Are you ready?" she mumbled.

"Are you?"

Instead of answering, she began to ease her way down. He wasn't sure if the spell she'd cast helped her stretch at all, but it did seem to make the initial penetration easier---a smooth glide instead of the rough, scratchy entry he'd experienced the one other time he'd attempted this.

Once the head was in, he managed to breathe out "Are... are you okay, sweetie?"

"Mm-hhph," she gritted out. Her head was still turned just enough that he could see her eyes were screwed shut. She'd alternate easing her weight from one hindleg to another, and inch after inch slipped inside; by the time she got to the halfway mark, she'd loosened up enough to push the rest of the way down in one fluid motion. "AH!"

Flam grabbed her hips, giving her cutie marks a gentle caress. "Oh, Trixie..."

She called his name out too as she started rocking, moving her pelvis around in a figure eight. She let her head flop back, spilling her mane down her shoulders, and beads of sweat popped out on her neck. Flam sucked the underside of his moustache into his mouth to taste her juices that were still lingering there. She lifted herself up, then carefully sat back down; then she began to bounce, filling the caravan with the lewd, wet slapping of flesh on flesh.

Time was, they used to make a lot of noise while lovemaking---Flam thought it both sexy and hilarious how Trixie could babble like a porn star---but this time they didn't speak at all, only opening their mouths to moan, or to breathe through clenched teeth. He wasn't even sure what he would say had he been capable of coherent thought.

She looked back again, her face glistening with sweat, and the sight nearly made his heart seize up. "How is it?" she hissed.

Her spicy musk was in his mouth, and her supple, tight ass had him seeing stars... He had to be honest. "Incredible," he answered. "Mmmm... The best I've ever had."

When he sat up, pressing his chest against her spine, he carefully wrapped his forelegs around her skinny ribs. Trixie squeezed back, smiling as wide and as happily as she had in ages. "Oh, pookie... I've missed you so much..."

He caught her lips with his, and held her close as they rocked against each other, digging into the lumpy mattress; as Trixie pushed her tongue around in his mouth, she whined through her nose, her voice getting higher and higher until all she could do was squeak. Flam, for his part, was letting out feral grunts and barking noises as her ass gripped him harder than he thought possible.

After fumbling a bit, he used his left hoof to pry her labia apart, and then pressed the frog of his other hoof against her clit. Her pussy was winking against him, her pearl eagerly bobbing in and out, and the sweep of his fetlock against her gauzy hood was beginning to short-circuit her brain. "I---ah---I'm not---oh, Celestia-a-a-aaaah! I'm not gonna last long---!"

"Me n-neither, baby... ah..."

"On top!" she panted. "Get on top of me!"

A snagging in his balls told him he had little time to fulfill her request, so Flam flopped over to the left, pulling her with him, and quickly rolled her onto her belly. "Trix..."

She moaned into her pillow as she pumped her ass up to meet him. "Pound me!" she screamed. "I'm so close! Pound me!"

"Ah, shit! Trixieeeee!" The last vowel pulled into a long holler as he jerked forward, and three sharp snaps of his hips brought him to a mind-melting climax, leaving him groaning and trembling on top of her. Just as the last burst of semen shot forth, he could feel her go into a teeth-clenching, full-body shudder below him. Flam whimpered as the spasms of her body slowly pushed him out of her. Simultaneous orgasms? he thought hazily. We've never managed that before...

When he finally slid all the way out, he looked down to see the aura that had been coating his dick dissipate; amazingly enough, it left behind absolutely no trace of what they'd just done---no semen, no sweat, no blood, and, thank Celestia, no shit. He whuffed in surprise. She really HAS improved her magic!

For a few long, lovely minutes, they just lay side-by-side, petting their hooves across the other's body; after most of her sweat had dried and she'd cooled down, Trixie wiped the tears out of the corners of her eyes, and snuggled closer to him.

"Thank you," she said under her breath.

Flam kissed the top of her head. "No, thank you. That was... that was mind-blowing."

"Mmm..." She hiked herself up on the bed and rested her head on the pillow next to him. "How long can you stay?"

Dammit. He wasn't quite ready for reality to intrude on the afterglow. "Just 'til tomorrow. You know I have to leave." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Flim needs me."

"You're really worried about him, aren't you?" she said, lightly touching his face.

"Of course I am!"

Trixie smiled as she settled back. "That means you... you two made amends?"

"Yes," he said, and swept a few strands of her mane off her forehead. "A long time ago."

She pecked the side of his mouth. "I'll help."

"No no no. You don't need to get involved---"

She didn't seem to be listening. "I'll help you get to P...." Her snout crinkled in distaste. "To Ponyville. I know the way."

Flam laughed and put a foreleg around her withers. "So do I, sugarplum. And don't you worry yourself. I have a ride."

"....Oh."

For awhile they lay side-by-side, his inhale matching her exhale. Then Trixie tittered a little when she felt his whiskers brush against her horn.

"You know," he said as he kissed down to her scalp, "The Squeezy runs half-speed when it's only got one unicorn at the helm."

"Oh?"

Their snouts breezed against each other as he moved in for a kiss. When Flam tried to pull back, she nipped at his lower lip with her teeth---always careful not to draw blood.

"Maybe Trixie can help you after all."

Carts Before Horses

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The breakfast table seemed jovial enough when they walked in; Apple Bloom was merrily recounting a weird dream she'd had last night, and Granny was obviously indulging her. Even Big MacIntosh, who looked more than a little grumpy, was smiling a bit, which gave Applejack enough courage to step in the room and clear her throat.

As soon as her brother laid eyes on Flim, however, the stormclouds on his face turned to thunder.

"Nope!" he said, rising in his seat. His eyes were blazing. "No, you don't get t'sit at this table!"

Applejack stamped her back hoof. "C'mon, Big MacIntosh! He hasta eat!"

He slammed a hoof next to his plate, making it and its contents jump. "Not at the family table!"

Flim snatched up his plate and began piling pancakes onto it with his magic. "Fine by me! I'll go eat in the kitchen with the dog! I'm sure she's better company than you, anyway!"

"Good!"

"Can I use the butterknife, or is everything on the 'family table' off-limits, too?"

"Get outta here!" he roared loud enough to make Granny wince.

"Gone," he sniffed. Then he glanced over his shoulder and said "By the way, why don't you just hang a big sign that says 'Earth ponies only' above the door? I'm sure that would be a lot less---"

A screech cut him off as sharp and ear-piercing as a claw down a blackboard. "KNOCK IT OFF!"

They all froze---even Flim---and from somewhere in the kitchen, Winona whimpered a little. Granny almost never had to raise her voice, and the fire in her eyes was something new altogether.

"I have jes' about had it!" she shouted, pounding a hoof against her chest. "My ol' ticker can't take much more a'this!"

"Granny---"

That was a mistake; she immediately turned to him and shoved him back a few steps. "MacIntosh Apple! This whole marriage business is yer doin'! Now, I'm real sorry y'ain't pleased about this, but y'gotta learn that when y'make yer bed, y'gotta lie in it!"

Flim laughed. "I don't think that's the best expression you could have used, all things considered---"

"You shut yer mouth!"

His plate clattered to the floor when she turned to him. "Now, yer a guest here, so I gotta be as polite t'you as I can, but if I hear one more smarmy, smug, self-satistfied word outta yer mouth, so help me Celestia, I'm-a break yer damn jaw!"

Applejack's breath hitched halfway out of her lungs. In her entire life, she had never, ever heard her grandmother say a cuss. Nothing stronger than a 'consarnit'. And now Granny was shaking her hoof an inch from Flim's face, grinding her false teeth together in a terrifying snarl.

"Y-yes, ma'am," he stammered, grabbing at his chair.

"Now," she finished as she plunked herself back into her seat, "Both a'yes'---SIDDOWN!"

The silence was only broken by Granny's quiet panting, but after a second or two, Flim bent down, scooped up his plate, and levitated it back to the table. Big MacIntosh had gone a little pale, but he took his seat as well.

Applejack had just managed to slip into her chair before Granny began saying grace, but instead of closing her eyes, she stared over at Flim. He shrugged, but he looked a bit shell-shocked.

"A-amen," she mumbled.

Big MacIntosh took a huge mouthful, frowned, and swallowed as if it were quite a struggle. Applejack bit her lip while she watched him pour more syrup on his stack; nothing had tasted off to her. She quickly shook away her first suspicion: Flim couldn't possibly have gotten near his drink this time---he'd been with her since they got up. "What's the matter?"

He swished his coffee around his mouth a few times before gulping it down. "Nothin'. I jes' got a... weird metallic taste in my mouth."

Flim nodded, absentmindedly taking a bite. "Mm, yes. That's a side effect."

SHIT! Her heartbeat kicked up a few notches. Why didja say that, ya dumbass?!

Big MacIntosh put his fork down and narrowed his eyes. "....Of what?!"

Applejack's sour belly nearly jumped into her throat. Oh please oh please, Flim, don't say it! Don't tell him what you did!

"Of.... stress," he mumbled into his mouthful. After chewing a bit more, Flim added "Sometimes extreme stress can, uh, can... build up bile in the stomach. That can, er, lead to a vile taste in the mouth." He looked across the table at her, and she nodded a little. Although she couldn't forgive the lie, she had to admit she was a little impressed by how quickly he'd recovered.

Apple Bloom looked around from one frown to another. "Why's everypony so mad?" Tapping her hoof on Flim's shoulder, she asked "Is it 'cause you an' Applejack got in a fight?"

He glanced across the table before answering. "What makes you think we got in a fight?"

She shrugged. "You two sure were doin' a lotta yellin' last night."

If there was something Apple Bloom would never understand about grown-ups, it was why they'd sometimes have a normal conversation with her, and why other times they'd just shrink down in their seats as if mortified beyond belief.

"I think I'm gonna be sick," Big MacIntosh groaned.

"We.... did argue a bit," a red-faced Flim managed, "But we've made up."

Applejack snorted. "No we didn't! I'm still mad at you."

"For what?!"

"Fer what you said out there on the riverbank!" she said, her throat tightening as her voice crept higher. "You called me stupid!"

"I did not call you stupid. I said you did something stupid. There's a difference!"

"Not much, if y'ask me!"

"Well, I didn't, did I?"

"Stop YELLING!"

Normally an outburst like that at the table would've gotten her some sort of reprimand, but this time the adults just stared at Apple Bloom in shock.

"As far's I'm concerned, all three a'yes' are bein' stupid!" she shouted. Turning to Flim, she said "Granny Smith told you t'be nice, an' it's not very nice t'yell at a mare! I know you didn't have the kinda upbringin' we did, but you should at least know t'respect what yer elder ponies say!"

Applejack cleared her throat. "Now, sis---"

"Applejack! Yer bein' mean t'him, too! Doesn't that make you jes' as bad as him?"

She gasped, but her sister wasn't done yet. Now she was pointing at Big MacIntosh. "And YOU! You been grouchy fer months an' months now, an' I'm plum fed up with it! If it weren't fer you, we wouldn't be in this mess!"

"Me?"

"Yes, you!"

"ME?" He shoved his chair back, his brow digging dangerously into a knot. "This is my fault?!"

"Yer the one who dragged him here!"

"I'M THE ONE TRYINA MAKE THINGS RIGHT!" he hollered. Flim flinched a little, but Apple Bloom didn't even blink. "Yer sister's the one who---"

"Who what?!" Applejack snapped. "G'wan! Say it, I dare ya!"

Granny huffed and started to wave her hooves in the air. "Now, knock it off, all a'yes'!"

Apple Bloom gave a surprisingly hard tug on Flim's elbow. "Do you love her?"

He yanked his foreleg out of her grip. "What?!"

"I said," she repeated with a swoop of her hoof in Applejack's direction. "Do. You. Love. Her?"

In the dead silence that followed, Flim could feel every set of eyes land on him. His burning ears twitched back and forth a few times, and he cleared his throat. "Um. Well. I... I'll admit I have a soft spot for her..."

That made Applejack sit up a little straighter. A 'soft spot'? What the...?

"But, no, I don't love her," he finished, and reluctantly looked back at the rest of the Apple family. "I hardly know her!"

"Then ya shouldn't get married!" Apple Bloom said in exasperation. "Why's that so hard t'understand?"

Big MacIntosh smashed his hooves down on the sides of his chair. "Apple Bloom, she's pregnant! That's why she hasta get hitched!"

Leaning over her plate, the little filly jutted her chin at him and said "But y'can't force two ponies who don't love each other t'be together! You of all ponies should know that!" Then she stuck her tongue out. "Or d'you want me to go make another love potion, huh?"

"GO TO YOUR ROOM! NOW!"

Flim's eyes followed her as she slunk away from the table; he couldn't help but notice that the foreleg Big MacIntosh was holding out toward the staircase was shaking a little.

"Well," he said with a sip of his coffee, "You know the day's off to a good start when you get told off by a six-year-old."

"I'm eight and two-thirds!" she yelled back.

"If you're still measuring your age with fractions, that means you're too young to be talking about this kind of thing!" he retorted.

Apple Bloom let out a yelp of anger and bucked her little hooves against the banister. "Don't tell me what to do!" she screamed. "Yer not my father!"

They all watched her storm up the stairs, and once the door slammed, they returned to poking the food around their plates.

"That... could have gone better," Flim admitted.

"Eat up, Applejack," Granny finally said. "Y'need all the energy y'can get."

"I know, I know," she pouted, but took another forkful anyway.

"Apple Bloom packed a snack fer you t'bring t'market, too. It's in the kitchen."

"You're going to the market?" Flim asked, glancing between the two mares. "To buy or to sell?"

"To sell," Applejack replied. She didn't understand the look on his face---it was part-confusion, but what other expression could be there, she couldn't quite tell.

"How are you going to get all your wares there?"

Was that a trick question? "With a cart. How else?"

"Well I certainly hope he's going to pull it," he said with a flick of his head toward Big MacIntosh.

"Don't talk about him like he's not here, and, no, he's got other work that needs doin'." She elbowed him hard in the ribs. "Like fixin' my door, fer starters."

Irritation was starting to take over. "He can't take ten bloody minutes out of his day to help you?"

"It takes twenty minutes to walk into town, and twenty back. Then he'd have to pick me up again after the market closed. He can't afford to take more'n an hour outta his work day, 'specially not now the days are gettin' shorter!" Before Flim could respond, she added "An' I don't need the help! I been takin' the cart t'market even before you knocked me up, an' it ain't hurt me yet."

"What if it hurts the baby?"

"You don't know nothin' about nothin'! The harness goes around my shoulders, not my belly. It ain't even touchin' the... the baby," she said. Her voice had gone a little quieter than when she'd started speaking.

"I don't care. I'll pull the damn cart." He knew that would make them all gawk at him, so he pretended he didn't notice, looking down at his food instead. "It's not like I have anything better to do today, anyway."

Big MacIntosh let out a sour bark of laughter. "Don't be so sure about that. I'm puttin' you to work."

"You... you don't haveta do that," Applejack said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Pull the cart, I mean."

Flim drew his hooftip in a crescent-shaped gesture over his abdomen, and it didn't take a genius to figure out what he was referring to. "Of course I do. You're carrying enough as it is."

"Oh, please! D'you think I'm some... some..." She could feel her lip curling up in a sneer. "Some delicate lil' flower y'need to protect or somethin'?"

Flim just scoffed. "'Delicate' is the last word I'd choose to describe you."

"Well, you sure ain't gonna convince me yer some knight in shining armour, if that's what yer thinkin'!"

"Oh, pfft. Hardly. I'm barely a squire in a tarnished helmet."

"Took the words right outta my mouth," Big MacIntosh muttered.

"Then what makes you think I need yer help?!"

"Hey!" he shouted, banging the middle of the table hard enough to make the sugar bowl jump. "It's my kid, too!"

As soon as he'd said it, his hoof flew up to his mouth. Judging from the look on his face, that had surprised him even more than the rest of them put together. From somewhere upstairs, Applejack could swear she heard her sister's door opening a little.

Granny coughed a little, eyeing Flim as he awkwardly rubbed the back of his mane. "Applejack, he's tryna be nice fer a change. Y'oughta enjoy this while it lasts."

She opened her mouth to say something---possibly even an agreement---but then a nasty thought crossed her mind. "...Wait a minute," she said. "How do I know y'aint gonna run the second my back is turned?"

"You'll have to trust me."

"Trust you? Trust you?!" she said, her voice rising. "I trust Discord more'n I trust you!"

"Oh, Applejack," he said with a little smirk. "After last night, you still don't trust me?"

"Why would I trust you? What didja do last night that was so different?"

Big MacIntosh's teeth began to grind. "Stooooop...."

He actually looked a little hurt. "I... I let you cry on my shoulder, sweetheart."

Applejack's ears immediately squashed down against her head, but she didn't miss Granny's little "Oh!" of surprise.

"Don't you dare," she hissed.

"What?"

"Don't call me that in front'a my family!" She couldn't believe how mortified she was. "Th-that's private! I can't believe y---That jes' proves y'ain't got a trustworthy bone in yer whole damn body!"

Flim threw his fork down, looking angrier than she'd ever seen him, and leaned halfway across the table, his muzzle just a few inches from hers. "Oh, yes, please, Applejack, lecture me about trustworthiness! I was the one who woke up tied to your bed, remember?!"

It took him a few heart-pounding seconds to realize why Applejack was staring back at him in utter horror. Slowly, he turned to his left, peering at the other ponies present, both of whom looked as if they'd just accidentally taken a bite of a cow patty.

"And... by that... I mean...."

"Don't even bother tryin'a talk yer way outta that," she groused as she slunk down as far as she could go. If she hadn't been forbidden from wearing her hat at the table, she would have pulled it all the way over her face. "Now everypony knows. Good job."

Flim gradually let himself slip back into his chair, his teeth on edge. That little spark of anger had scared him more than what he'd just blurted out---and even more than the look of rage growing on his future brother-in-law's face.

"Well. So Applejack likes the ropes," Granny said with a surprising nonchalance. "Stands t'reason one a'yes would take after yer grandaddy."

Big MacIntosh stood up so fast his chair went skidding across the floor. "NOPE!" he screamed as he went stamping out of the dining room, yanking his head from side to side and chanting like a mantra "Nope nope nope nope nope nope NOPE....!"

Granny watched him go, turned back to her breakfast, and chortled a little at the matching looks of disgust. "Heh! I knew that would work."

"To do what?!"

"T'make yer brother go blow off some steam," she answered as she finished her coffee. "I knew if he hadta spend one more minute listenin' to you two bicker, he'd blow a gasket." After a long silence, she added "No need t'go thankin' me all at once, now."

"So..." Flim said, conscious that he was treading on thin ice, "You... were just kidding about the whole bondage thing, right?"

"Mind yer own damn business," she answered primly.

He winced. "Well, I don't know about you, Applejack, but I've just about lost my appetite. To market, then?"

"I.... I still don't trust you," she mumbled.

"Fine. Fine! I have an idea," Flim said. He was heading towards the stairs.

Applejack grabbed at his shoulder as her passed her. "Wait! What kind of idea?"

"You won't take my word," he said, "So I'll have to give you something else."

When he came back downstairs, he was dressed, save his hat. Before Applejack could ask why he'd put his clothes on, Flim magicked something out of his breast pocket and plopped it down beside her plate.

"What's this?" she asked.

"Collateral."

Applejack picked it up in her hooves; it looked like a plastic photo-sleeve with a picture slid in the front. The photograph was of Flim and Flam, both of whom looked to be about about Apple Bloom's age, making predictable but somehow slightly endearing goofy faces at the camera. Flim had a foreleg around Flam's shoulders, and he was making a crude gesture---that he probably shouldn't have known at that age---over his ear. Standing between them was a stern-looking unicorn, a mare with a young face and very old, sad eyes.

"What the... who's that?"

Flim reached around her and turned the sleeve over. "Sorry. Wrong side."

Now she was looking at a much older photograph. It was well-creased with age, and the colours had faded a bit, but the pony looking back up at her still seemed full of life. She had thick curls hanging down around her shoulders, and her eyes were the same pistachio-green as Flim's. For some reason, Applejack felt goosebumps crawl up her neck.

"That's the only photo I have of my mother," he said quietly, tracing the tip of his hoof up Applejack's arm. "Take it."

"But..."

"I won't leave town without it," he added. When she looked up at him in surprise, he disregarded his better judgement and leaned down to nuzzle her. "I mean it. It's... this is important to me."

After a few moments of silence, Applejack picked her hat off the back of her chair and carefully tucked the photo-sleeve into the inner brim. "Really?"

He pecked her on her temple. "Really."

A little chuckle made them both glance up just in time to see Granny try to hide her smile behind her napkin.

"Well, uh... we better be gettin' ready," Applejack said, feeling a little flushed as she rose unsteadily. "Market opens in half an hour."

"First things first. You come with me," Granny said with a little beckoning gesture in Flim's direction. "There's somethin' I need ya t'get outta the attic."

"What d'you need from up there?" she asked, already on her way out.

"You'll see! Come back in after y'get the cart ready."

She opened her mouth to protest, but her grandmother had already taken his arm, leading him towards the staircase. Applejack sighed. Whatever Granny felt was so important wouldn't take that long to retrieve, considering they'd de-cluttered the attic a few months ago (that trip to Goldie's had put a bee in her bonnet about keeping up with housecleaning). She may as well just pack her wares.

She had one hoof out the front door when she heard something screech behind her; it sounded like somepony had scraped a chair across the floor. She poked her head back in the empty dining room, and saw that her brother's chair had been pushed back against the table, but oddly enough, it was facing the wrong way.

"What a dolt," she said to herself as she turned it so the seat was tucked under the table. "Can't even put a chair back right."

Her back was turned, however, when the chair slid back a few inches.

Something Borrowed

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Big MacIntosh was exactly where she guessed he'd be: pitching whatever rocks he could find into the river. He'd never been able to make them skip, but for some reason the back-and-forth of picking up and throwing calmed him down. Judging by the small island he'd made in the centre of the stream, he'd really needed the time to himself.

"Hey!" Applejack shouted. "Get yer butt back in the house!"

His ears twitched at the sound of her voice, and he picked up a boulder about the size of Applejack herself and sent it crashing into the water. She just rolled her eyes. Yeah, yeah, I know how strong you are. Don't think that's gonna intimidate me. "Didja go deaf or somethin'? I said move it!"

Pitch. Splash.

"C'mon! Granny says she wants t'show us somethin', so quit playin' with yer pebbles!"

Well, he might be ignoring her, but he couldn't deny a request from the family matriarch. He made a point of not making eye contact with his sister as he passed her side.

"Took ya long enough," she said as she trotted alongside him. "So, she got Flim t'pull an old dusty box outta the attic. What d'you think she wants to show us?"

She had expected at least a shrug---not an icy glare.

"What? Why ya lookin' at me like that?"

It took her a few seconds before she clued in. "Oh. Oh, I get it! I see what this is. Yer still so mad at me y'ain't gonna talk to me! Is that it?"

This time she didn't give him a chance to answer. "That's real mature, Big MacIntosh. What are ya, five? Y'think the silent treatment's gonna work on me? Well, I got news fer you---two can play that kinda game!"

She wasn't quite sure why he was rolling his eyes, but didn't let that stop her. "Yeah, I'm gonna give it right back to ya! See how ya like that! Sure, you'll be fine fer a few days, but before long you'll be cryin' at my hooves, sayin' 'Please, Applejack, I can't take it! Ya gotta say somethin' t'me!' An' I'll jes' laugh! I got plenty of other ponies I can talk to besides you. I'll beat you at yer own game, and you know it! I---"

"Oh shut up!"

"Ha!" She gave him a little cuff upside the head. "Got you to talk."

"Are you two foals done squabbling yet, or do I need to send you to a time out?"

That made them both jump, and Applejack's smug smile drained off her face. She was really going to have to talk to Flim about his eavesdropping habit.

"Come on," he said as he swept the dust off his elbows. "You're going to miss Show and Tell."

"Did Granny tell ya what this was all about?"

He shook his head. "Not a word. She just said she wanted all of us to see---well, no, not all of us," he corrected himself. "She told Apple Bloom to stay in her room until this was over."

He caught the look the siblings shared, and was relieved to find out he wasn't the only one who was confused. Granny didn't strike him as the type to keep secrets, and for the life of him he couldn't guess what she could be keeping in her attic that would be inappropriate to show a child.

"Well, uh, we shouldn't keep her waiting," Applejack said finally. "The sooner this is over, the sooner we can all get on with our days."

"It's probably just an old photo album," he said as he followed her into the living room. He was glad Big MacIntosh was behind him, because he knew the big lug wouldn't be happy if he saw where his eyes were.

"Nah, she wouldn't keep one in the attic." She must have sensed those eyes on her ass---her tail snapped back at him, smacking his foreleg just hard enough to send a warning. His gaze was front and centre again as they took their places in a semi-circle around Granny, who had pried the tape loose and was already shoulder-deep in the box. Scrawled on the side facing her audience was Clothes - donate?

"Hm, now where is it?" her voice echoed from inside as she shuffled its contents around. A moth-eaten sweater flew over her shoulder. "Don't know why I'm even keepin' that. Sentimental value, I 'spose. Dangit!" This time what looked like a uniform from a long-forgotten war came sailing out. "He told me he'd sent that to a museum, the old fool..."

Applejack cleared her throat. "Uh, Granny? Y'need some help?"

"No no, I jes' found it. Here we go!"

She popped back out of the box, unfurling something white and lacy in front of her with a happy flourish. It landed at her granddaughter's hooves, and she immediately took a shaky step back, kicking the frilly hemline away like a parasprite.

"Granny. No."

Big MacIntosh looked from the dress, to Applejack's startled face, back to the dress, and then at his grandmother. For the first time in almost a week, his mouth pulled up in a half-smile. "Well... I'll... be... damned."

Granny was beaming. "What's the holdup, darlin'? Put the darn thing on already!"

"What're ya tryin' to do, gimme a heart attack?" she said shrilly. "I ain't tryin' on yer old weddin' dress!"

"Aw, g'wan! It won't hurtcha!"

She spared a side glance at her brother. "Don't tell me yer wantin' me t'get married, too!"

"Put it on."

"Granny---"

"Young'un, don't think I won't wallop you!"

"Fine! Fine." She knew it was a hollow threat, but this unpleasant turn of events had made her unwilling to call Granny's bluff---the dress had been enough of a shock, and she had no idea what else she'd throw at them. With a laboured sigh, Applejack nosed her muzzle under the hem and shuffled it over her head. She eased both lacy sleeves over her forelegs and popped her head out, trying not to crinkle her snout at the musty attic-smell. "There. Happy?"

"Very!" Granny smiled ear-to-ear. "Why, you look jes' radiant."

"Aw, quit it," she mumbled, shuffling around. Looking over her shoulder, she spotted a long row of tiny buttons polished to look like pearls. "Flim, can y'help me get this done up?"

He didn't answer.

After a few seconds, she turned to make sure he hadn't fainted. He looked damned near close, though, his face completely white and his mouth moving around slowly.

"Uh, Flim?" she said, gently prodding his shoulder. "I could use some magic right about now."

"...Huh?"

She nodded her head towards her back. "Buttons. Lil' help?"

A faint green crackle crept up his horn, but it sputtered out quickly enough to make it seem involuntary.

"Hey, Flim, you okay?"

What a stupid question. His eyes were wide, and his pupils had nearly disappeared. When he put a shaky hoof to his throat, Applejack let out a gasp---she'd seen a glob of spittle shoot from his lips, and another was frothing at the corner of his mouth. He was panting, using only the shallowest part of his lungs, his breathing quickly turning to hyperventilation.

"Flim!" she said, trying to shake him out of it. The motion nearly toppled him over, and if it wasn't for Mac's foreleg shooting out in front of him, he probably would have planted his face into the carpet.

"I can't---" he stammered, "I c-can't---"

It turned into a grunt when his lips spasmed back in a grimace, and again Mac had to keep him from tottering over. The hardened expression he'd been wearing all morning had melted, if only a little.

Applejack pressed the frog of her hoof against his neck, and was shocked to feel his jugular slamming back up against it. "What---? Mac, what's going on?!"

"I'm fine!" Flim snapped as he swatted the hooves away. "...I...I'm fine," he repeated, a little quieter, when he saw an actual look of concern on Big MacIntosh's face. "I..."

Applejack took a step towards them. She'd seen that look, too. "Hey...?"

After a few deep, sucking breaths, Flim put a hoof to his forehead and swept the loose strands of his mane back in place. He hoped they couldn't see how sweaty he was. "I'm not having a pani..."

Like a steel trap, his jaw snapped down on that sentence. He wasn't looking, but he could sense the glance brother and sister had exchanged over his back. He quickly straightened his neck and cleared the traces of mucous from his throat. "I'm fine," he said, the colour returning to his face. "Perfectly fine. Not panicking. Calm down, you two."

She tried her best, sitting back down on her haunches as he finally got around to doing up the buttons. Wow. If that had been an aborted panic attack, she was damn sure she didn't want to see a real one.

"Well, shoot," Granny said. "I didn't mean t'rustle yer jimmies like that!"

"Then what's with the dress?!"

"What Apple Bloom said back there got me thinkin'," she answered with a little sigh. "Marriage... sometimes, it really ain't about love at all."

Applejack and Flim's eyes met, but before either of them could speak, she went on: "I don't know if y'know this, Applejack, but me an' yer grandaddy weren't in love when we got hitched."

Well, that was news! "G-granny?" she stammered.

"Oh, sure, we cared fer each other, but there weren't nothin' much under that," she said, and then turned away from the younger generation. "At th'end of the day, we could jes' wring each other's necks. Y'know what that old coot did t'me once?" Now she turned back, and to everypony's surprise, she was scowling. "I called him a jackass, an' he went an' threw a pot a' boilin' water at my head!"

When that didn't get a vocal response, she began pawing at the uniform on the floor. "Good thing I was still young enough t'dodge it. I told him flat-out that if he ever did that again, he'd be eatin' his own stallionhood fer breakfast! An' he never did raise a hoof t'me again... stupid ol' git."

Applejack tried not to smirk when both stallions next to her flinched a little.

"Then one New Year's Eve, he went up to have a nap, an'... Celestia knows, when he came back down it was in a pine box. Had hisself a blasted... what was it called again? Aneurism," she corrected herself before anypony could offer a suggestion. "Died in an instant. An', Celestia help me, the first thing I thought was 'Now I'm free a'him'. I did! An' I ain't ashamed! I stared down at his coolin' body, an' I thought 'Now that bastard's outta my life forever'."

Out of the corner of his eye, Flim could see Big MacIntosh's ears flicking around in distressed little circles. Apparently this wasn't a side of Granny he was used to seeing.

"Okay," Applejack said cautiously, "Uh... What're ya gettin' at, Granny?"

"Aw, nothin', honey," she said with a wave of her hoof. "I jes' wanted y'all t'hear that story, is all."

She swallowed heavily. Sure, she'd known that he had died in his sleep---in the very bed Flim was supposed to be using, no less---but this had added a whole new layer to it. Now it made sense why her Pa only re-told Grandaddy's old war stories instead of speaking about the stallion himself.

The lace on the collar was beginning to make her neck itch. "Can... can I take this off now?"

"Pfft! Sure. Don't want'cha t'get it all sweaty or anything."

Flim put a hoof to her back. "To be honest, I'm surprised it fits."

Applejack looked down at the billowy skirt, and... then it hit her, too. The side seams were so wide that the way she way she was sitting, it was almost hard to tell she was carrying a foal. She lifted a hindleg a little, feeling a flutter in her distended belly. "Granny, this thing is huge! Y'could fit four ponies in here!"

"Two, t'be exact."

She had opened her mouth to say something, but a swift kick to her diaphragm made it choke up in her throat.

When their eyes met, she saw an expression on Granny's face she'd never seen before. She looked almost... chagrined, and yet a little proud at the same time. "I, uh, I bought it way too soon. We got married right quick, y'know." Then she actually blushed. "I had to let it out a few months before we got hitched."

"W-what?"

"Did..." Flim's voice was nearly as tight as hers felt. "Did you used to be chubby, or...?"

"Nope. But I, uh... I sure gained a lotta weight." She winked. "In the, uh, few months before the wedding."

Applejack wasn't sure if the whimper from beside her came from her suitor or her brother. It didn't matter. She was already desperately trying to gulp down the hot swell in her throat that signalled the beginning of tears.

"So, sometimes marriage ain't about love," Granny said as she moved to her granddaughter's side. "Sometimes it's about lyin' to the seamstress and hopin' nopony will notice an' prayin' it'll all work out alright, 'cause prayin's jes' about all y'can do." She sighed, gathering the skirts up. "An' then y'get a pot a' boilin' water thrown at yer head."

Flim coughed. "I, er, I would never do that, you know."

Granny shook her head as she pressed the crumpled hem between her hooves. "I ain't sayin' you would. I'm jes' sayin'... oh, I don't know what I'm sayin'."

She whipped the dress over Applejack's head, inadvertantly popping a few of the buttons on the way. Her eyes were focused somewhere else, fluttering a bit as she scrolled over her memories, but they snapped back into focus when she remembered what she'd been meaning to say all along.

"Listen up, young'uns, 'cause I'm only gonna say this once." She pointed in turn at Applejack, then at Flim, and finally to Big MacIntosh, who seemed to get a slightly longer stare than the other two. "I want all three a'yes' to think about what I told ya real, real hard."

She'd begun to fold the dress back up when a quiet sob made her stop.

"Oh, Applejack!" she said, tossing the dress aside and wrapping both forelegs around her shoulders. "Hush, now. Ain't no need t'make a fuss! Everything worked out alright!"

All she could do was press her cheek against Granny's shoulder and shake as the sobs wracked her body. "I---I---I didn't... Oh, Granny, I had no idea---"

She laughed, mirthlessly. "A'course y'didn't! Celestia knows it ain't somethin' I'd trumpet about."

"I'm sorry, Granny. Truly I am. I'm so sorry...."

"Shh, shh. Let bygones be bygones, child."

After a few tense minutes of watching Applejack cry and listening to Granny's quiet shushes, Flim began to take an awkward step towards them. His hoof hadn't even touched the ground when another landed on his shoulder, and when he looked back at Big MacIntosh, he just shook his head 'no'.

As if she'd sensed the movement, Granny brought up a free hoof and waved it in their direction. "Can one a'yes' be a dear an' get that all folded up?"

That at least made Applejack chortle. "Flim, you do it. Big Mac can barely fold a towel in half."

"Ain't that a fact!" Granny added as she turned to Flim. "I asked him t'fold the bedsheets. Once. I still have no idea how he got all four legs tied up."

He grinned, but decided to supress the bondage joke that had popped into his head. "I feel bad for his future wife. She's going to get stuck doing the laundry."

Now Applejack was flat-out laughing. "An' changin' the diapers! The first time he tried cleanin' me up, well, that ended with a hospital visit."

"Wait, what?!" He glanced over at Big MacIntosh, who had cracked a sheepish smile. "He hurt you when you were a foal? How is that funny?!"

"Me? Nah. I was fine. But he had t'have a safety pin taken outta his ear."

"Oh." The thought of a much-younger Mac screaming and covered in baby powder brought a smile to his face. "Okay, that is kind of funny."

"Alright, alright, that's enough pickin' on him fer one mornin'," Granny said, finally pulling away from the hug. "C'mon, get that put away. We all got work that needs doin'."

Applejack watched as Flim began folding the dress; as pretty as it was, even she knew that it was hopelessly out of style. "Uh, Granny? Didja really want me t'wear that? I mean, uh, I think Rarity really had her heart set on makin' me a new one."

"Well." She patted her on the cheek, just like she used to when her mane was in pigtails. "Yer a grown mare. Trust me when I say that everything about yer weddin' day should be up to you."

That made Flim's head jerk up just in time to see Big MacIntosh's lips get thin. Whoa! Atta girl!

He'd nearly finished folding the box flaps back together when a sudden look went across his face, and he pulled one of the sleeves back out, examining it carefully. "I.... I bet you were a beautiful bride," he said slowly.

"Why, thank you!"

Applejack raised an eyebrow. What's he gettin' at?

"And this is a lovely dress, but..." He pushed the sleeve back down. "Look, I'm just going to say what everypony's thinking."

Granny turned a little. "Oh?"

She did not like the look on his face one bit. "Did you really have the reputation to wear white?"

She paused for a moment. At first he thought she was bringing a hoof up to her mouth to tap at her chin as she pondered the answer.

He didn't see the punch coming until he was flat on his back.

Applejack screamed. "GRANNY!"

"Aw, yiss!" she crowed as she nursed her sore hoof. "Been wantin' t'do that since you called me a chicken, you little punk! How's that feel, huh? Could a chicken do that?"

Applejack was already huddled over him, gently slapping the uninjured side of his face. "Granny, he's out cold!"

"Well, damn," she said, genuinely surprised. "Didn't know my own strength!"

"Are you okay?" she said, pressing the bag of peas as tenderly as she could against his eye.

"Am I okay?" Flim snipped as he snatched the bag from her hoof. "Am I okay? Honestly? She asks me if I'm okay. Well, let's summarize the day so far, shall we? First, I get shoved under a bed, nearly chip my horn on a spring, get my life threatened by some---some---ten-ton lumbering genetic anomaly, have what felt like a gallon of may-I-say very foul-tasting piss dumped on me, get screamed at by every member of this family, lose about ten years of my life thanks to that stunt Granny pulled with the dress---"

"Flim..."

He tried waving his hooves in the air, and dropped the bag in the process. That didn't stop him ranting, even though he hissed in pain as he brought the cold plastic back to his face. "And then, oh! And then! The cherry on the fucking sundae! I get knocked out by an old lady! So, no, Applejack, I am NOT FUCKING OKAY!"

She sighed and patted his head. "Calm down. Yer gonna give yerself a stroke."

"A stroke would be an improvement at this point!"

"Shh." She carefully reached around his head and stroked the parts of his mane that had ruffled up along his neck. "Hush."

"Stop it. I'm a grown stallion."

"Well right now yer actin' like a cranky lil' foal." Grinning a little, she hiked her front legs onto the couch and leaned against his side. "C'mon, now. Tell Mama where it hurts."

He scoffed and tried to turn away, but she'd caught his blush. "Knock it off, Applejack. That's really creepy."

"If y'don't tell me where it hurts, I can't make it better."

"How are you going to make it better? Invent a time machine?"

"Jes' tell me where it hurts," she cooed.

"Oh for the love of... Fine! There!" he snapped, pulling the peas away. "There! The shiner that I'll be sporting for the next month! That's where it hurts!"

"Poor baby." She leaned in, making sure to brush her cheek against his, and placed a gentle kiss on the least-puffy part of the bruise. When she pulled back, she smirked a little at the way he was staring at her. "There. All better?"

The look of surprise quickly turned into a smirk of his own. "...I pulled my groin, too."

To his relief, she laughed. "Y'couldn't resist, couldja?"

"Not when you set me up like that, no. Now, come on," he added as he moved to shuffle off the couch, "We're probably late. You---"

"Now hold on, there, sugarcube," she chided, holding an arm up to block him. "Y'sure y'don't need t'see a doctor?"

"Well, that depends." With a twinge of pain, Flim pressed his hooptip against his lower lid and pulled it down as far as the swelling would allow. "Is there any blood in my eyeball?"

Applejack took his chin in her hoof and tilted his head back and forth; as far as she could see, the sclera itself was still clear. "Nope."

"Are my pupils the same size?"

"Uh-huh."

"Then I should be fine. As long as I don't start acting stra.... wait a minute." He pulled himself into a sitting position and looked back at the pillow he'd been propped up on. "How did I get on the couch?"

"Well, you got Big MacIntosh to thank fer that," she answered, offering a hoof to help him down. "An' he ain't gonna let you forget it, either. He nearly dropped you a couple a'times, on account'a how much he was laughin'."

Flim grit his teeth as he reluctantly accepted the proferred hoof. "Oh, great. I get emasculated in front of him again."

When he got back to his hooves, Applejack brushed up beside him, pressing the side of her belly against his ribs. "Don't you worry about that. This here foal's proof enough that yer all stallion. Besides," she said, making sure to nuzzle away from his injured eye, "He might not like you much, but he ain't gonna judge. Y'don't have to win fights t'prove yer masculinity, y'know."

"Ha! Easy for you to say. You're a mare."

She pulled back, frowning. "Eeyup. A mare who doesn't know a stick of mascara from an eyeliner pencil. A mare who'd rather give Discord a hoofjob than wear pantyhose! Y'know how many times I been called a fillyfooler, huh?"

A quick spasm of emotion went across his face, and at first she thought it was anger---but it was too raw for that. It looked more like he'd been kicked in the gut. "And that's the worst possible thing to be called, is it?"

"No! It ain't a bad thing t'be called, but it ain't true!"

Neither of them noticed the couch cushions shift.

"At least those rumours stopped. I---ergh." Applejack gingerly lifted one of her hindlegs; she could swear she felt her liver move as something tiny and blunt pressed up against the walls of her womb. How do other mares ever get used to this? "An' I got you to thank fer that. Now they jes' call me a slut."

The sneer that was forming dissolved. "I---what? Really?"

"Yeah, really."

"Why would they call you that?"

"Oh, gee, I dunno. Maybe because I went an' threw myself at some pony I barely know an' now I'm an unwed mother!"

Before he could answer her leg jerked up again, and she turned her anger towards her midsection. "Agh! Dammit! Wouldja stop movin'? That was my bladder!"

"Applejack," Flim said gently, "You... you told me yourself you've slept with two ponies in five-odd years. That's hardly a slut. That's practically a nun."

"Y'know what? You come back an' tell me that after you get knocked up by some travellin' salespony! Oh, wait! That ain't gonna happen, 'cause you, Mister Flim, are a fucking stallion! You ain't ever gonna know what this is like! Besides, even if everypony knew about all the lovers in yer past, you'd never, ever get called what I get called! You get t'be the stud, an' I get t'be the slut! That's how it works!"

He took a step backwards, and it wasn't until the warm spot on her nose disappeared that she realized she'd been muzzle-to-muzzle with him.

"You're right."

That caught her off-guard. "Huh?"

"You're right. This is my fault."

She watched as he magicked one of the cushions back into place. She hadn't even heard it fall. "I sent you the drink. I got you to dance. I took you back to my room, and, er, well... I forgot to pull out." When he looked back at her, he was blushing. "I'm sorry, but... I couldn't help it. I was drunk, and... it... felt so good to be inside you. I didn't want to let go."

She opened her mouth to say something, but he quickly pressed a hoof against her lips. "It had been so long since I'd had a mare in my arms, let alone one as beautiful as you. I guess it's just a rotten trick of nature that you had to carry around the mistake instead of me, sweetheart." The hoof lowered a bit, but he let it linger on her lower lip. "Or do you not want me to call you that anymore?"

Bringing her own hoof up to touch his, Applejack murmured "Flim, you called me that when you were makin' love t'me." You whispered it in my ear. You said it when you came. "I jes' thought you'd keep it between the two of us. I'm real sorry. I shouldn't'a blown up like that."

"I didn't know you'd be so sensitive about it."

"Sensitive. Heh. 'Hormonal's a better word." She kissed his cheek. "Y'know what? I.... I really had a great time last night, sugarcube. I didn't know you could be such a gentle lover."

The foreleg pressing against her own slid up, and he pulled her into a hug. "Oh, Celestia, Applejack. What are we doing? Your sister was right. We don't even know each other."

"Well, like I said, it's a twenty-minute walk into town," she replied. "That'll give us some time for a Q an' A, dontcha think?"

The hug ended, and he idly poked at his shiner. "Are you sure you want to do that? I... have a past."

"Hey, buck up! Granny always told me 'Every saint has a past, an' every sinner has a future'."

Given what she'd divulged to them a few minutes ago, that seemed like quite an appropriate thing for her to believe in. "She's a wise mare, I'll grant her that."

"She sure is. An' if tryin' on that dress has taught me anythin', it's that everypony has some skeletons in their closet."

He chuckled, but she was already heading out the door, and hadn't seen him go red again. "It's funny you should mention a closet..."

"An' y'know what?" she called back at him. "I don't think I care if you've been with a hundred other mares!"

"The number's significantly lower than that. But I was---"

"Besides, what's the worst you could tell me? Heh, that you been grabbin' yer ankles fer a bunch'a stallions? Not likely!"

She paused at the front door, motioning outside with her head. Why he was frozen in place was beyond her, but they were late already, and she needed him to move. "C'mon, sugarcube. The cart's right out there. I'll help getcha hooked up."

"Amazing, Applejack," he said thinly. "I'm learning a lot about you already."

She moved in for a kiss as he passed the doorway, but missed. Had he dodged? "Oh yeah? Like what?"

"That brutal honesty and naivete aren't the best combination."

That had come out a bit harsher than he'd intended, but she didn't seem too perturbed. "Is bein' a well-travelled liar any better?"

"I'll tell you what," he said as he tried the harness on. It wobbled on his thin shoulders, but it stayed more or less in place. "For the next twenty minutes, we'll ask each other whatever we want, and I promise I won't lie to you."

But that doesn't have to mean you get the whole truth.

Trust [clop]

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Trixie sighed and smacked her dry lips around the puddle of drool on her pillow; as her tongue ran up and down the roof of her mouth, she licked back the faint traces of musk left there, and blearily smiled.

Lovers really are like fine wine, she thought. They improve with age.

She pressed her thighs together and let out a moan at the little twinge of pain in her rump, echoed by a duller one deep in her pussy. Trixie giggled into the coverlet. Oh, what a pounding she'd taken last night! She really should send the pony who'd taught her that sheathing protection spell a thank-you note---if only she remembered her name. What was it again? Sunny Shiver? Oh well.

Rolling over to her right, she stuck out a foreleg and swept it around. "Mmm. G'morning, pookie."

She knew from experience that Flam was a restless sleeper, and often ended up splayed against the far wall. Edging over, Trixie pressed her snout forward to nuzzle against his neck.

All she found was empty bedsheets.

"...Pookie?"

A quick up-and-down fumble didn't find anything, so she flicked her tail backwards, feeling around in case he'd rolled right over her in the night. Nothing.

"Wh... Flam?" Sitting upright, she blinked and wiped the matted mane out of her eyes. The golden light of the morning was streaming in between the slats of her shutters, but all they illuminated were the dust motes hanging in the air.

She was alone.

"Flam?" she said, now with alarm in her voice. "Flam, where are you?"

There were a few stray red hairs on the pillow next to her, so last night was no dream---and yet, he was nowhere to be found. Trixie leapt off her cot and flung her closet open.

"Flam? Flam!" she cried as she frantically threw outfits over her shoulder. "This isn't funny!"

Her closet emptied, she slumped down on her haunches, a desperate hot squeezing starting at the back of her throat.

"...Flam?"

He left you.

A sharp whine choked out of her throat, and Trixie pressed her hooves against her eyes.

You spread your legs for him, and he left you.

"Nooo..." she whispered.

What did you expect? That he'd stay? Ha, that he LOVED you?

"NO!" she screamed against the floorboards. Her tears were gushing out in thick rivulets.

He left you. That's what you deserve, after all.

"NO! No, no, no!"

They all left you, didn't they?

With a feral cry, she grabbed the bedside lantern and smashed it against the wall, scattering the startled fireflies. "STOP IT!"

EVERYPONY ALWAYS LEAVES YOU.

"NO!" she howled as she pounded her hooves on the wardrobe door. "NO! NO! SHUT UP! I---"

"Trixie?"

Whirling around, she felt her mouth fly open, choking on the ball of bile and snot in her throat. That voice had come from outside her head. "Wha-a-a-...?!"

"Is everything alright?" Flam asked, closing the caravan door behind him.

She just stared at him for a few panting breaths.

He was levitating two bags, one significantly heavier than the other; he placed the smaller one down on her bedside table, eyeing her up and down, and hesitantly said "I, er, brought you some breakfast."

When that didn't get an answer, he added "...You like hash browns, right?"

She was suddenly up in his face, her hooves flying as she volleyed slaps and punches back and forth; he'd had just a second to defend himself, but managed to throw her off him with a burst of magic.

"For Celestia's sake, Trixie!" he shouted. "A simple 'no thank you' would do!"

"YOU ABANDONED ME!" she shrieked from her sprawled-out position on the floor. Blindly she began to squirm around as Flam tried to get his forelegs around her, tears stinging and blurring her vision.

"YOU LEFT ME! YOU LEFT ME! HOW COULD YOU---"

"Stop!"

Her thin ribs pulsed in and out against his hooves, and for a few minutes Trixie could barely see; it wasn't until he'd placed a gentle kiss against her cheek that the cluttering fog in her mind began to dissipate.

Her words came out in pieces: "W-w-w-what? W-w-why?"

"Trixie, what in Equestria is the matter with you?!" he said. His hooves were gripping painfully at her shoulders, but she barely felt it.

"You c-came back...?" she said weakly.

"Of course I came back!" He released her, and again she flopped down on her haunches. Without breaking eye contact, Flam opened the smaller bag he'd been carrying and brought out a grease-soaked cardboard box. "I... These are for you. You do want breakfast, right?"

His forelegs flew up in defense when she came barreling at him again, but this time she wasn't fighting; smooshing her cheek against his shoulder, she began bawling, clutching him tightly.

"You c-came back for me," she sobbed. "You didn't l-leave..."

Flam kissed her temple, tossing the bag to the side. "Why would I leave you, sugarplum?"

"E-everypony leaves me..." she whimpered into his shirt. Flam brought a hoof up to stroke her mane, which had gone wild and stringy; he was glad she couldn't see the look of bewilderment on his face.

"Well, I didn't. And I won't."

He let her weep for a few more minutes, alternating between rocking her back and forth and petting her mane; when she seemed to have most of the crying out of her system, he whispered "Remember what you told me last night, Trixie?"

"Which part?"

"The part about the Wonderbolts. Their show was ten a.m.---you remember telling me that?"

After a second of silence, she mumbled "Mm-hmm..."

"And you said that would be the best time for me to go gather my things. Remember, sugarplum?"

"Mmm..."

"That's all I did. Well, that and swipe some of the free breakfast." He put the frog of his hoof on her shivering spine. "Besides, I left my clothes hanging on the back of the door---didn't you notice?"

He could feel her flush in embarrassment.

"You know I wouldn't just up and leave you, right?"

Trixie shifted a little so that she was facing away from his neck. "You did once before, pookie."

Just as she predicted, he stiffened up. "That time I had a damn good reason, Trixie."

She could feel him begin to pull away, so she quickly clapped her forelegs around his shoulders and pulled him in tighter. "No!" she said. "No, don't!"

"Don't what?"

She didn't answer. Instead she moved her muzzle from his shoulder to his neck, and planted a little peck against his hide.

"Trixie...?"

His question turned into a moan when she started nibbling on his ear. Her hoof had found his cutie mark, and he shuddered involuntarily at the surge of pleasure.

"Let's not fight," she said quietly. "I-I just got you back, and I... I don't want to fight."

Flam glanced over her head at the torn-up caravan; it looked like a hurricane had blown through her wardrobe. How much of a hissyfit did she have? I was only gone for ten minutes!

"Alright," he said with a touch of hesitation. He'd always known that Trixie's screws were a little loose, and for the most part, he found it endearing... but now was not the time to ask her what exactly was going on in the maelstrom she called a mind. "Er... you'll feel better once you get some food in you. Why don't---"

"It can wait!" The hug turned from soft to nearly bone-crushing. "Flam?"

"Yes?"

The hooves on his cutie marks circled around to grasp his ass, and Trixie leaned back just enough to look him in the eyes; she usually had a guarded look about her, but now her gaze had a raw, piercing vulnerability to it. "First, will you... will you make love to me?"

He swept a lock of hair off her sweaty cheek, smiled, and kissed her on the nose. "Of course, sugarplum."

"P-please..." she murmured as the hoof on her shoulder pushed her backwards.

Then her back was against the sheets, and when she opened her mouth to speak again, a raspy brush of whiskers gently quieted her voice; moaning, she let her lips slip open and took in his tongue.

"Mmm-mph!" She squeezed her eyes shut again. She had morning breath, and he tasted like stale coffee, but neither of them seemed to mind.

They were both fumbling, and yet they fell into the dance they'd practiced so well. Flam's tongue went up along her jawline and into her ear, and Trixie kicked up her hindlegs, gasping. The softer coats on their bellies were rubbing together, and it only took a few more nips, thrusts, and bites before they were both ready, her wet lips winking against his shaft.

He jerked his hips back, and she pulled forward; their tails twined together as he made a few clumsy ramming motions, one, two, three, there!---and she almost yodeled when he sunk inside her.

"Ow!"

Oops. Flam always seemed to forget that Trixie's pussy was an outie, that she needed to have the curtains parted before the show. After a hurried apology, he reared back, reached down with a hooftip, and pulled apart her big, pouty labia. When he slid back in, her crinkly lips were trembling against his sheath, sucking and pulling.

"Aah..." She put her chin against his shoulder and cried out, arching her back. "P-Pookie, please...!"

A firefly landed by the base of his horn, and Flam flicked it away. As much as he was trying to concentrate, he couldn't help but notice the smashed lantern out of the corner of his eye. Had it been an oil lantern, Trixie's fit of pique could have ended in disaster. And this hadn't been the first time he'd caught her talking to herself...

Take my word, brother. She's certifiable.

"Argh!"

Trixie stopped sucking his neck. "What? Did that hurt?"

"No," he said curtly, looking off to the side. Of all the times for Flim's warning to pop back into his head!

She brushed a hooftip against his face, and he realized he'd stopped thrusting. "It's nothing," he said as he went back to moving against her body. "Just a firefly."

Her tail curled against his leg, and as she slid it higher, Trixie petted his cheek soothingly. "Shh. Just focus on me. On us."

"I'm sorry, I---!"

His voice pinched off suddenly when something light and feathery fluttered against his dock. It was the very tip of her tail; she began to giggle at the look on his face when she tickled it against his balls, and then higher, playing teasing circles around his ass.

"Nnng!" Flam's pelvis rammed forward, and he grit his teeth as his member began to throb inside her.

"You like that?" she purred.

"I..." He wasn't sure. That had been a no-go zone for him for as long as he could remember. Then again, Trixie had let down her own barrier just the night before... "O-o-kay," he stammered.

He sighed, his tense shoulders unkotting, when he realized she wasn't intending to penetrate. He began timing the jerking of his hips to her circling, and to his astonishment, the caressing against his ass was making his tail rise like a mare's.

"Ah! Trixie!" He sunk his teeth into the side of her throat, his tail swishing over his back, and started sucking up a hickey. His lips curled up in a half-smile when he remembered how smugly she used to trot around, her mane up in a bun to show off her mottled neck. She was one of the few fillies he'd known who chose to wear 'slut' as a badge of honour.

Flam grabbed her ankle, leaned back, and swung her around onto her side; ignoring her squeak of protest, he jammed himself back inside, and landed his hoof in a solid SLAP against her flank. Trixie jittered, her head lolling back.

"Yes!" she shouted. "Again!"

This time the swat landed on her cutie mark, and she let out a long, strained squeal. Flam reached behind him and grabbed her tail, winding it around his foreleg and yanking up sharply as the third slap came down on the side of her teat.

"Oh, oh, oooohhh!" She hooked her ankles around him in a vice grip, half-gasping and half-laughing as his pounding picked up speed, slamming the head of the cot against the wall. She could tell by the creaking of the wood that the whole caravan was rocking. Thank Celestia she'd had the wheels replaced!

A hot, moist breath washed over her forehead, and she opened one eye just in time to see her horn disappear into Flam's mouth. Everything in her body clenched up, which drew a satisfied grunt out of him, and Trixie went still, trying her hardest not to jab forward. She could feel every ridge on the roof of his mouth, every little bump and fissure on his tongue as he sucked up and down, teeth catching gently on each twist of the spiral.

"FUCK!" she screamed into the pillow. "Ah, fuck! Suck me, Flam!"

Her body kept moving, but his didn't. When his mouth left her horn, her eyes opened again, and she was shocked to see him scowling down at her.

"Please don't say that again," he said.

"What? Why not?" She deliberately winked as hard as she could, and grinned when his face contorted in lust. "Trixie likes it when you suck her horn."

He held a hoof up. "Just...don't. Okay?"

"Oh, fine, you crybaby," she said with a playful pout. "But... will you go back to su---I mean, using your mouth on me? Hm?"

Flam leaned in again, and Trixie keened happily. The flat of his tongue dragged along the base, and he gingerly began nibbling up the side, little rivulets of drool sliding down into her mane. She took his hoof between her own and guided it down her belly, between her puffy teats, and finally on top of her clit. Despite her preference for unicorn lovers, Trixie always loved the rough, gritty feeling of keratin and fetlocks against her pearl... especially if the hoof was Flam's.

She smiled, relishing the feeling of his cock, something she'd sorely missed all those years. He wasn't her first, but he'd been her best.

"Ah-AHH!"

His short, startled moan came just a few seconds before he did, and even though she twitched her hips back to try to dislodge him, his flare kept them locked together until the first few jets shot out; squirming around, Trixie grimaced at the feeling of his prick softening inside her, still burbling at the tip. Flam's whole body had gone into a spasm, and when he finally collapsed on top of her, he was too blissed out to notice her frown.

"Oh, baby," he panted. "That was amazing. Was it good for you?"

"NO."

Well, that got his attention. "Huh?"

Folding her forelegs, she looked away and sniffed "Trixie didn't get the chance to finish. And besides"---she smacked his shoulder---"You came inside me, you fucking moron! I told you not to do that!"

"I..." He looked down at where their stifles were touching. "I did? I didn't mean to, I just---"

He yelped when she grabbed his mane, and was too startled to resist when she roughly shoved him down the bed. "Trixie doesn't want to hear it! Get to work!"

"What---?!"

But it was too late; he was already face-to-face with her pussy. It winked, and a trickle of cum slid out. He gulped.

"What are you waiting for?"

"Er, sugarplum?" he said nervously. "It's... full of..."

"It's yours, isn't it?" She pushed on his head again, making sure to put some extra pressure on his horn. "C'mon!"

Hesitantly, he pressed his snout forward and sniffed. There was the bleachy smell of semen, but Trixie's spicy arousal overwhelmed it. He poked just under her clit with the tip of his tongue, and, satisfied that she still tasted more like a mare than a stallion, let it slip a little lower. Getting this kind of mouthful was new to him, but he wasn't the kind of lover to leave a mare in need.

"Mmm..." Trixie spread her legs wider when Flam pressed his face forward, the hairs of his moustache bristling against her pussy. His hot breath swept across her lips, and with less reluctance than she'd expected, he pushed his tongue inside her.

The fact that he was willing to taste them both mixed together, to do that for her, turned her on more than she could have imagined. All it took was a few lashings of his tongue and she'd turned to putty, mewling and crying out, her horn spluttering erratically. With one final cry, a spurt of magic shot from the tip, and her muscles coiled up as she came. She could vaguely feel Flam flinching as she squirted, but he stayed in place, riding out her orgasm until the last few spasms died out.

He finally pried himself free and wiped his fetlocks across his face a few times. It hadn't been unpleasant per se, but he did wonder what that said about him. Oh well... he'd made Trixie happy again. That's what counted, right?

Snuggling up to her, he smiled and whispered a few sweet nothings into her ear, soothing her with kisses. He kind of regretted having signed out of the hotel---they were both matted and sticky, and a nice hot shower would do a world of good. That widened his grin. It had been quite awhile since they'd shared a shower.

A prickle of magic brushed down his side as Trixie pulled the sheets up, tucking him in next to her. For a few lovely minutes they simply lay there, enjoying the afterglow.

"So..." she said with a contented yawn. "When did you want to leave?"

"Now that I have all our affairs in order, we can leave whenever we want." He stretched out and draped a foreleg around her. "I could use a nap, to be honest. I'm not used to waking up this early."

Trixie smirked. "Well, it was either get up for ten o'clock, or get caught red-hooved."

He stroked her mane. "I'm glad I took your advice. If the Wonderbolts had caught me, I'm pretty sure I'd be flayed alive."

"Wait a minute." She rolled over, leaning against his barrel. "Nopony was guarding the room?"

"No, why?"

She put a hooftip to her chin. "Spitfire said something last night about this whole mess being a formal investigation."

Flam chuckled. "She was probably just blowing smoke up your ass."

"No no, she sounded serious." Trixie's eyes wandered to the bags Flam had brought in earlier. "If she wasn't bullshitting, wouldn't she have sent somepony else to investigate while she and the rest of the Wonderbolts were busy? Royal Guards, perhaps?"

"Hm. That's a good point." He sat up straight and idly wiped away the wetness on his moustache. "In any case, we'd better get out of here before they come back."

Rolling out of her embrace, he got to his hooves and began to get dressed. "We'll hook the caravan up to the back of the Squeezy. I'll show you how it works---"

"Wait."

He glanced over his shoulder, still buttoning his shirt. "Hm?"

She propped her chin up on a hoof. "Trixie needs to know something first."

"What is it, sugarplum?"

Trixie drew a deep breath, and released it shakily.

"...Do you love me?"

"It wasn't jes' that he didn't know where it was," Applejack went on. "He didn't even know what it was!"

"Are you kidding?"

"Nope. He had never even heard of a clitoris! He thought it was the name of some kinda disease!" She laughed, raising a hoof into the air in front of her and making some jabbing motions. "So I had to turn the light on, grab his hoof, and put it right on top of it. Then he started mashin' it like he was playin' a game a' Whack-A-Mole."

"That doesn't sound like a very good first time."

She sighed and shook her head. "You said it! Most boring ninety-four seconds of my life."

"Alright, stop." Flim grunted as he adjusted the harness, but his smile didn't break. "I'll believe the poor colt was clumsy and inexperienced, but you couldn't possibly have been counting the whole time."

"Hey! There was a reason the fillies called him 'The Fastest Gun in the West'!" One of the pies had begun to slide off the top, and she flicked it back in place with a swish of her tail. "I thought he could make it to two minutes. I really did. An', bless him, he tried, but..."

Applejack paused when she noticed his horn come to life; as discretely as she could, she glanced over her shoulder and noticed a few fuzzy green orbs floating around the wheel hubs. Apparently he needed a little more oomph than she did when it came to dragging something heavy.

He's never done an honest day's work in his life.

She quickly shook that thought out of her head. It was unfair. He wasn't built to do the kind of work she prided herself on, and that wasn't his fault.

"Well, I hope your love life was all up from there."

"Fer the most part." She briefly considered trotting back behind the cart so she could push, but decided that would probably embarrass him more than help. "So... what about you?"

"What about me?"

She grinned, nudging him a little. "C'mon, you know what I meant. What about yer first time?"

His face went beet-red from the tips of his ears right down to his neck. "Oh, no no no no no. I am not telling you that story."

"Aw, c'mon! I jes' told you mine!"

"No. No way. It's far too embarrassing."

That made her elbow his ribs. "Oh, really? Was she a hooker?"

"What?!" Flim scowled at her. "No! Jeez, give me some credit!"

"Related t'you somehow?"

"Oh, Celestia, no."

"Old enough t'be yer mother?"

"NO!"

"Well what's t'be embarrassed about then?"

He let out as melodramatic a sigh as he could, his shoulders slumping under the harness. "Fine. I suppose if I tell you that story, I won't have to tell you the one about how I got kicked out of high school."

"Kicked out of---?" Now she had to put a hoof over her mouth to keep from cackling. "You did it with a teacher?!"

His snout crinkled up, and she was sure he was imagining the most hideous teacher he'd ever had. "One, that's disgusting, and two---stop guessing! I'll tell you already!"

"Well, shoot, sugarcube. After that kinda intro, I'm all ears!"

"Don't get your hopes up. It's not as exciting as it sounds. I..."

Applejack watched in interest as he raised a hoof to his forehead to wipe off a bead of sweat. "I... Okay. Look. I was dating the headmaster's kid..."

"Oh?"

"In secret."

"What?" Applejack paused long enough to take her canteen out of the cart, and chugged down a couple of swallows. Even though it was a hot day, she knew she had to be careful with the liquid intake; lasting the three hours at the market without a break was getting increasingly difficult. It sure had been decent of Mrs. Cake to cover for her last week, after those unwise four cups of apple juice. The memory made her wince, and she passed the canteen to Flim. "Why wouldja keep it a secret?"

He took a few gulps himself, and tossed it back in the cart. "Think, Applejack. Somepony from a good, upstanding family... and me?"

She nodded. "Okay, good point."

Flim chuckled, his ears pinned back in embarrassment. He was speaking more slowly than usual, as if he was choosing his words very carefully. "And we, er, we... had our first time in the headmaster's office. On his desk."

That made her snort with laughter. "Y'ain't kiddin'?"

"I wish I could say I was."

"Flim, yer a smart pony. Why wouldja do somethin' as dumb as that?"

"Because I was a seventeen-year-old iiiiidiot," he said, looking up at the sky. "We both hated the headmaster, and we wanted to give him a literal 'fuck you'. He was supposed to be giving a speech, and I thought it would be funny if he came back to find his desk covered in ass-prints and puddles."

"I can't say that's a kind thing of her t'do to her own father, but..." An unpleasant memory washed over her---the first and only time she'd screamed 'I hate you!' at her own Pa. Thank Celestia the horrible preteen years were far behind her. "I-I s'pose everypony has their reasons."

Luckily, he hadn't noticed the twinge of emotion on her face. "Indeed."

"How did he figure out it was you?" She noticed a smile forming on his face, and it encouraged one of her own. "Didja sign yer masterpiece or somethin'?"

"No. Turns out the moron had forgotten his notes. He'd left them in his desk."

"Ha!"

Applejack slapped a hoof on her lips, but it didn't hold back the giggles. "Oh gosh, I'm sorry fer laughin', but---"

"No, go ahead and laugh." For the first time since she'd known him, his grin looked almost sheepish. "It is a little funny, in retrospect. You see, once I reached the point of no return---and you know how much of a yeller I am---guess who came waltzing in."

"Bahaha---Aw, Sisters, what did he do?!"

By this point, Flim was laughing, too. "Well, as we were frantically trying to disentagle ourselves, he started screaming at the top of his lungs. I'm pretty sure I said something incredibly clever, like 'Sir, this isn't what it looks like!' ...As if there wasn't evidence everywhere. I think some was in my mane by that point." He brought a hoof up to the back of his head and made a jerking motion. "Then he grabbed me by the scruff of my neck and threw me out into the hall, followed by most of my, er, stained uniform..."

"An' you ran like Cerberus was snappin' at yer heels," she finished for him.

"As best as I could with a limp," he said, and didn't even try to suppress a snigger. "Applejack, be glad that your genitals are internal. It's extremely uncomfortable going a full gallop while you're unsheathed."

"A limp? She musta rode you like a rodeo bull!"

"And do you want to know what else that bastard did?" he went on over her. "He actually had the nerve to send the cleaning bill to our apartment." Flim shook his head, grinning through his blush. "That was one of the most awkward conversations I've ever had with my sister. Actually, come to think of it, I think I'm technically still grounded."

"Aw, Flim, I gotta say, that really takes the cake," she guffawed. After a couple of steps his shadow fell away from hers, and when she looked back over her shoulder, she saw he'd paused to wipe the sweat off his neck. Trotting back to him, she added "I thought I'd heard the worst cherry-poppin' stories out there, but that one gets the prize."

He finished swigging from the canteen and cocked an eyebrow at her. "I wasn't aware it was a competition."

"Y'wanna know who took second place?"

"Of course."

She took a sip of her own, and pulled the kerchief out of Flim's aura. As she wiped her forehead, she said "A... relation a'mine got real scared that he got his 'special lady' pregnant."

"And...?"

"She was a mule."

They both laughed, and Applejack gave him an affectionate nuzzle. "Okay, sugarcube. It's yer turn t'ask a question."

"Let me think." With a heave, Flim got the cart rolling again. "Hm... Oh! I have one."

"Go ahead."

"Applejack, er... how much do you remember from our first night together?"

She glanced away as her face got hot. "Enough."

"Are you telling me to stop, or are you saying you do have some memories?"

"The latter," she said through gritted teeth, "But don't push it."

"Do you, er..." She could tell by the quivering muscles around his mouth that he was really trying hard to repress a grin. "Do you remember telling me I was the best you ever had?"

Oh, damnation. She knew that would come back to haunt her! "Y'fishin' fer compliments or somethin'?!"

"Please just answer the question."

When her head snapped back up she had a hot retort on her lips, but it faded when she saw him looking down at her not with any smugness, but with... almost a look of vulnerability.

"I..." Even though she'd just had a drink, her throat felt scratchy. She just knew he was baiting her somehow. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, you were. Are."

She jumped when he patted her rump with his tail. His usual smile had returned, but it seemed to be tempered a little. "Oh, sweetheart," he said, his eyes shining with what looked like lust, "You're one in a million."

"Thanks...?" She wasn't exactly sure what that meant, but decided it best to leave it be. It was a compliment, after all.

"It's your turn."

Applejack just trotted along in silence for a minute, thinking. They had started with the basic questions---when they were born (Flim, unsurprisingly, was a Gemini), their favourite books, foods they liked and hated, and so on---but the subject had quickly turned to sex. They had also agreed at the outset that they were both allowed one 'out', one question that they could refuse to answer. Despite his earlier reluctance, Flim hadn't taken the opportunity to do so when she'd asked him about his first time, so... "What happened between you an' the headmaster's daughter after he caught y'all together?"

There was a shift in his eyes as they glazed over, but it was gone after a moment. "I wish I could say it ended well, but... it didn't. We were forbidden from seeing each other after that. And we couldn't even see each other in school since I got expelled."

"Y'said you were seventeen," she mused. "That's almost a legal adult. Couldn't you jes' wait 'til you were old enough, and then run off together?"

Flim frowned, but he didn't seem to be angry. "I hate to tell you this, Applejack, but love doesn't actually conquer all."

"You loved her?"

"I thought I did." He must have seen her opening her mouth, because he quickly added "Is it my turn to ask something yet?"

"Sure."

"How did your parents die?"

Applejack came to such an abrupt stop she nearly tripped over her own hooves. Without bothering to look at him, she flatly said "No."

"What?"

"I said no," she replied, kicking a clump of dirt off the path. She still wasn't making eye contact. "That's my 'out'. I ain't gonna answer that, no way."

"That bad?"

"Ask me somethin' else!" she snapped.

He was staring at her, but not at her pinched-up face; he'd heard her grunt in discomfort, and watched, amazed, as the side of her belly rippled with movement. It seemed to distort outward, just slightly, and then a tiny crescent-shaped bump appeared. It slid downward, and then disappeared back into the abyss inside. It took him a few breaths to realize it must have been the underside of a hoof. He felt a shiver go down his spine.

"Have you ever been in love?"

She looked up from the ground in surprise. "Huh?"

"Have you ever been in love?" he repeated, still peering at her midsection.

"Uh... no. Not really." Applejack bit her lip as she thought over her past relationships. None had lasted longer than a few months. "I got kinda stupid-crazy over a couple a'colts when I was younger, but... that was jes' me bein' a teenager. Nothin' serious."

"It's kind of sad to think that Granny never has, either."

She jabbed her hooftip at him. "Hey. Jes' because she never really loved her husband doesn't mean she's never been in love."

After a moment, he nodded. "Well, I suppose that's true."

"My turn, now." She deftly flipped her hat off her head, and picked the photo-sleeve out of the brim. She still couldn't figure out what she found so haunting about it. "Tell me about yer sister."

A sharp snort caught her attention. Flim's ears had folded down against his head. "She's a mean, conniving old harpy. What else do you want to know?"

"She... uh... couldn'ta been that bad," she said cautiously as she replaced the photos. "I mean, she did take care a'you, right?"

"Yes, but as grudgingly as possible!" He brought a hoof to his face to rub at his shiner, and Applejack had to bite her tongue. She'd told him three times already to stop poking it. "Do you want to know how we found out we were hemophiliacs?"

"Uh---" It hadn't occured to her that Flam would have the same problem, but Flim just kept talking:

"I came running to the kitchen because I'd heard yelling, and I saw her pick Flam up and throw him against the fucking wall. He broke a tooth, and on the way to the hospital she told me I'd better say he fell out of a tree, or I'd get it." He underlined that point by making a slapping gesture in front of his face.

"Why would she do somethin' like that?!"

"I don't know. Probably because he was crying too much."

Applejack cocked her head. "'Cryin' too much'?"

He shot her an irritated look. "Toddlers cry, Applejack. That's what they do."

"Oh! He was jes' a foal when that happened?" She tried to touch his shoulder, but he picked up his pace. "I... I'm so sorry, I---"

"Don't. I don't need your pity."

She could feel her lips thinning to a line. "Boy, if I ever meet her, I'm gonna give her a piece a'my mind! She---"

"I don't need your crusading, either." He stopped walking, placing a hoof in the air behind him to keep the cart from rolling up against him. His head drooped, and his ears flopped over, concealing his eyes from her; when she leaned in to nuzzle him, he said in a quieter voice "I don't really blame her, you know. She was just a kid herself."

"That's no excuse! I hadta help raise Apple Bloom when I was younger, an' I'd never, ever do that t'her! Or any other foal fer that matter!"

"You wouldn't," he said as he raised his head again, "But you weren't a fourteen-year-old filly raising twins on your own. And she was probably still grieving over... our mother." He scratched under the harness. "That would make anypony resentful, don't you think?"

"I..." No wonder the filly in his photograph had such old, sad eyes. "I think we should get a move on. I'm runnin' late."

He cracked a small smile. "And I should get back to breaking rocks or making licence plates or whatever else the Warden has planned for me."

"Y'know, ya really gotta stop callin' him that," she said, without even trying to hide her grin.

He swept his tail over her flank. "Give me one good reason!"

"I'll give ya two." She gave him an answering sweep, and smiled wider when she felt his tail briefly entangle with hers. "One, because I said so, and two---I stopped callin' you 'stringbean', didn't I?"

"You know... I didn't actually mind that nickname as much as I let on."

She held up a foreleg to stop him. "Hey."

"What?"

Motioning at the bend in the road, she said "Just 'round that curve is Ponyville. Want me to take over from here?"

"That's probably for the best." Flim ducked his head down, and slid out from under the harness. "I'm kind of allergic to pitchforks and torches."

Applejack went to pick it up, but he beat her to it. As he carefully eased it down on her shoulders, she said "So... you'll be back here at noon, right?"

"Of course."

As she watched him stretch the kinks out of his neck and shoulders, she took her hat off, and again pulled out the photos. "Flim?"

"Mm-hm?"

"C'mere." She closed the space between them, and placed a gentle, closed-mouth kiss on his lips; at the same time, she slid the sleeve into his breast pocket. She gave it a little pat as she pulled back, but didn't return his smile. "Don't make me regret that, y'hear?"

He glanced down at his pocket, then back up at her. "I already told you you could trust me, sweetheart."

He put a foreleg around her neck and pulled her in for another kiss, this time with just a bit of tongue. When she stepped back, she had a trace of his saliva clinging to her lower lip. "I'll see ya come noon, then."

The cart groaned and creaked when she began trotting away, but she could still hear the soft patter of his hooves on the dirt road. She had a lot to think about, but above every other thought in her mind rang her Ma's advice:

Don't ever look back.

Don't Ask, Don't Tell

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As soon as he opened the door, the bright expression on his face drooped into disappointment. "Oh. It's just you."

Misty rolled her eyes. "Well, it's great to see you too, Soarin'!"

He glanced away before she could catch the look in his eyes. "I... sorry. I thought you were the pizza."

"Ooh, pizza?" she said as she elbowed her way into his room. "Awesome! I'm starving!"

Soarin' frowned, watching her flop down on the duvet. "Uh, sure, come on in. Make yourself at home."

"I hope you didn't order anything gross." She tucked her hindlegs under her in a half-sitting position as she shuffled off her saddlebags. "I'm allergic to artichoke. You didn't get anything with---"

"Misty, why are you here?"

"Jeez, now you and Spitfire are acting pissy," she said easily, using her feather-tips to unbuckle her bag. "You wanna tell me what's going on?"

He let out a deep, chest-clearing sigh and looked off to the side. "No," he mumbled. "And if you're here to lecture me about how I was off my game today, well, don't bother. Spitfire already reamed me out."

"Heh... reamed you out."

Instantly his head snapped back up. "What? What's funny about that?!"

"Nothing," she said with that little smirk of hers that always made him uncomfortable.

Soarin' groaned and tried to rub away the headache that was forming in his temples. "Look, I... I appreciate you dropping by, but... I kinda want to be alone right now." He used a back hoof to inch the door open a bit more. Hint, hint.

"Really? Gee, that's a shame." Still grinning, she angled her open bag towards him so that he could see its contents. "I guess that means I'll have to drink this bottle of premium whiskey aaaall on my own."

His ears perked up---he recognized the filigreed label on the bottle, which assured him it was indeed top-notch stuff. Sacrificing a bit of his time and a few slices of pizza would be worth it! "Uh... okay."

"C'mon." She patted the bed, and he took his place next to her, if a bit reluctantly. Cracking the wax off the cork with her teeth, Misty passed the bottle over to him, and he took an appreciative swig, wincing at the sharp alcoholic burn.

"How long before the pizza gets here?"

"I dunno. A few more minutes, maybe."

She watched him slowly scuff the tip of his hoof back and forth across the carpet. "Soarin'. C'mon, man. What's going on?"

"Nothing."

"Seems like a pretty big 'nothing'." She took a shot of her own. "A big enough 'nothing' to make you clip your wings twice, and nearly take out Blaze when we were doing the Theta Formation---"

"Look, I told you Spitfire already gave me grief about it!" He pulled his knees up to his chest and hugged them protectively. "Isn't it bad enough that ten thousand fans watched me make an ass of myself without you rubbing it in?"

"I'm not rubbing it in," she corrected him. "I'm just talking. Y'know... friend-to-friend."

Soarin' watched her take another shot, and grabbed the bottle. "Yeah? Since when are you my friend?"

Misty wiped her lips with the back of her hoof. "Since I nearly got fired, and you let me cry in your arms."

He paused, the bottle an inch from his lips. "You remember that?!"

The knock at the door made him jump, and if it weren't for Misty's quick reflexes, the eighty-bit bottle would have shattered on the floor.

"Yo! Somepony order a pizza?"

Misty nursed the bottle, watching as Soarin' fumbled with a bag of bits. It made them both crack a smile when the delivery colt asked for an autograph in lieu of a tip---and Soarin' gave him both.

"Did you really give him twenty-five bits for a an eighteen-bit order?" she asked as he brought the steaming box back to the bed. "That's, like, more than a twenty percent tip."

"The autograph might not be worth much anymore," he muttered.

"Hey, c'mon. Just because you fucked up a performance doesn't mean you'll lose your fans."

"...Yeah." He checked the level of booze in the bottle; they'd drunk it down to the top of the label. Still plenty to get them both drunk. In fact, he was feeling a little woozy already. "Thanks for the whiskey. It'll help me sleep."

"You do look tired," she said with her mouth full. "Even more than usual. No offense."

"None taken," he said, prying a piece free of the melted cheese strings. "I tossed and turned all night."

"Soarin', is this really about a bad night's sleep?"

He quickly stuffed half a slice in his muzzle. "Yes," he snapped.

"...Or is this about the whole coltcuddling-blackmail thing?"

A chunk of pizza crust shot into his larynx, and it took Misty vigorously slapping his back before he managed to cough it back out.

"She told you?!" he hacked in between breaths.

"Well, duh."

"Aw man!" Soarin' moaned. He flopped back onto the bed and draped a foreleg over his burning face. "By midnight tonight everypony on the team's gonna know!"

"Hey, calm down." She put a reassuring hoof on his back and rubbed it between his shoulderblades. "I'm the only one she told."

"How can you be sure?"

"Spitfire sent me to guard his room," she answered. After taking a swig of her liquor, she offered him the bottle. "She kinda felt the need to let me in on it.... after I nagged her, of course."

"This sucks!" He choked down three cheek-puffing mouthfuls and rolled over on his belly, pressing his face into the pillow. "This sucks, this sucks, this suuuuuucks!"

She couldn't help but laugh to herself at the erratic way his wings were jerking around. "Jeez, Soarin'. You outweigh me by fifty pounds, and you're already drunk?"

"This sucks. Spitfire sucks! Everypony sucks!!!"

"Come to think of it, Spitfire does do a lot of sucking. And despite what her name might imply, she's known to swallow." When that didn't get a response, she swatted a hoof against his rump. "That was a joke, genius. You're supposed to laugh."

He took the bottle in one hoof and used the other to pull a the pillow over his head. "Not really in the laughing mood, Misty."

With a sigh, she lay herself down on the bed next to him, gently patting between his wings. "Come on, Soarin'. It's not that bad."

He slowly lifted his head. "Not... that... bad?!"

"No. It's not the worst scandal we've had to deal with. At least you got caught with a live stallion... and not a dead mare." She shuddered at the memory.

"It's still bad!" He sucked at the bottle til it was taken away from him. "My dad's gonna kill me!"

Misty sniggered. "Oh yeah, we wouldn't want that. He might not let you go to prom." That only made him pull away from her, taking the whiskey with him, so she added "If I were you, I'd be more worried about Spitfire. I haven't seen her this angry since... well, you know."

He mumbled something into his folded forelegs.

"What?"

Rolling back over, Soarin' rubbed a hoof across his face a few times before repeating "I... told her didn't want to press charges. That's why she's so mad..."

"What?" she said again, propping her chin on her fetlock. "Why wouldn't you want to throw the book at this scuzbag?!"

"And have it blow up even more than it has?" He rubbed a hoof through his spiky mane. "I'm willing to pay just to make this go away."

"And, in doing so, you let him get away," she said with a prod. "All you had to do was give the Guards a description of the perp, and they would've caught him. They wouldn't need to know the nitty-gritty."

Soarin' snorted. "They might not have asked, but he could've told. You know how fast gossip flies through the ranks---remember Flash Sentry? He looked at the princess twice, and within a day they were all calling him 'The Prince Consort'." He tucked his legs around himself. "I don't even wanna think about what they'd call me."

"Hey." After taking her last drink, she checked the level of the booze, and offered the last hefty shot to Soarin'. "You know we'd have your back, right?"

"No. I don't know that."

"I hate to sound like a cliche, Soarin', but there's no 'I' in 'team'."

"...But there is one in 'blackmail'," he said glumly.

She sat up straighter, even though she was wobbling a bit. "Okay, you know what? No. This isn't the Soarin' I know. The Soarin' I know wouldn't go crawling away with his tail between his damn legs! The Soarin' I know would take action!"

"What kind of action can I take? I don't even know their names!"

"Whoa." She pried open the mini-bar and took out two tiny bottles, tossing one to Soarin'. "You let him pound you, and you don't even know his name?"

"Not the point!" He downed the vodka in one gulp. "And I was doing the pounding, thank you very much."

"Wow, way more than I needed to know." Misty cleared out the rest of the mini-bar---the Wonderbolts considered all room expenses to be part of business travel, so it was covered---and dumped the bottles on the bed. She plunked herself down between them and her teammate, and took his muzzle in her hooves. "Now you listen to me. Grow a pair and do something about this."

He tried to pull away, but she held fast. "Like what, Misty? What the fuck am I supposed to do?!"

Yanking him closer, she whispered "Easy. Steal his thunder."

"Huh?"

She brushed her tail over the bottles, making them clink together, and gave him a wicked grin. "I've got a great idea, Soarin', but... I think we should get a little drunker before I tell you."

The market square was usually bustling, but today barely a fraction of the usual ponies were milling about. Applejack tried not to groan as she set her stand up; with all the fuss and bother that had been going on at home, she'd forgotten it was a long weekend. Most of Ponyville had probably cleared out to head to the cottage, or to visit relatives. These were going to be three very long, boring hours.

With any luck, Twilight'll stop by and gimme somethin' to read, she mused as she opened up the bundle her sister had packed. This is a bad day fer me t'be stuck with my thoughts.

Then something occured to her---the courthouse would be closed on Monday, wouldn't it? At least that would give her one more day to figure out how to get out of marrying...

A smile broke across her face when she saw that Apple Bloom had slipped a note in with her snack. Under her cheery 'Have a good time at the market!!!!' was a sketch of a little filly hugging a balloon-bellied mare.

"Aw, Bloom," she said with a grin. "I ain't that big yet."

She glanced up just in time to make eye contact with Silver Spoon. Although Applejack offered her a weak smile, the filly just sneered in return and went trotting off behind her mother, who had made a point of passing by the stall with her snout in the air.

She frowned, folding up the drawing. Yeah, well, fuck you too.

The next half-hour trickled by with agonizing slowness. The only purchase---a single apple---came from Lily, who felt the need to inform her that a foal needed two parents, and that her second cousin was a very nice stallion if you didn't mind a dandruff problem, which he'd been getting treatment for, and he'd been looking for a date for some time, and was she interested? Applejack had said something curt through a forced smile about how it takes a village, and watched, grinding her teeth, as Lily went off whispering to Daisy.

Eventually the shadow of the clock tower touched the edge of her stall, meaning another half-hour had gone by. Sitting back so that she could look down at her abdomen, Applejack gave it a little pat and murmured "Well, I guess it's jes' you an' me, baby."

Her cervix jiggled, making her eyes cross, as the foal stretched itself out.

"Jeez, did you do that 'cause you heard me?"

It rolled around, and seemed to return to its normal curled-up position. Applejack chewed at her bottom lip as a surge of warmth went through her. She recalled how her Ma would lie on her side, stroking her pregnant swell and singing to Apple Bloom; she could even remember the time she'd tried to talk to her soon-to-be sister and felt a bump against her cheek. She grinned. She never grew tired of hearing Granny recount how 'Little Macky' would lie on top of his mother's belly, laughing and bouncing up and down from the kicking inside. 'We always knew you was made fer applebuckin',' she'd say.

"Good morning, Applejack. Am I interrupting a private moment?"

"Oh! Uh..." She looked up sheepishly, her hoof still on her belly. Finally, a friendly face! "Not at all."

"How've you been?"

She gave Cheerilee a quick once-over; while she looked as pulled-together as possible, the daubs of makeup didn't do much to hide the bags under her eyes. "Not so good, t'be honest." She put her chin on her hoof. "My brother's not talking to me."

She cracked a small smile. "Really? How can you tell?"

Applejack's lips thinned. "Cheerilee! That's not funny. And you of all ponies should know why!"

That seemed to take her aback, and after a moment, she blushed. "I... Oh, Applejack, you're right. I'm sorry!"

"It's oka---"

"I know I promised him I'd never make fun of him for that," she whispered as she looked away. "Please don't tell him what I said."

"Hey." Reaching over the counter, she took Cheerilee's cheek in her hoof and turned her face back so they were eye-to-eye again. "You doin' okay, hon?"

"...No." She opened her saddlebags. "I did want a couple of fritters, but that's not the real reason I came to see you. Um..."

Applejack nodded, watching as Cheerilee placed a few bits on the counter. She began to wrap up the fritters, and tried to ignore the prickle of worry going up her neck.

"You know Oakey Doke, right?" She didn't wait for an answer; she barely paused to take a breath. Her words came tumbling out, falling over each other: "Of course you have. You know everypony, even Berry's sponsor---she, um, she told me she's been AWOL, and Colgate hasn't---" Cheerilee grabbed a stray lock of her mane and placed it between her teeth, nipping at the split ends. It was a nervous habit that hadn't manifested in years. "She---It's---since last night. I know it's only been a day or so, but---"

"Cheerilee! Slow down!"

The spit-soaked hair fell out of her mouth. "W-what?"

"Jes' take me through this bit by bit," she said. After handing over the fritters, Applejack patted her on the shoulder and prompted "Go back to the part about the sponsor."

Again the tips of her mane went up to her mouth, but this time she just brushed them against her lips, avoiding Applejack's eyes. "Okay. I. Um. Sorry, I've just had too much coffee this morning."

"It's okay, sugarcube," she said with a smile. "It's a quiet day; there ain't nopony in line behind ya. Take all the time you need."

"Oakey Doke is Berry's sponsor," Cheerilee said, poking at the bag. "She came by my place at the crack of dawn and told me Berry's missed her last two meetings."

The backs of Applejack's ears were beginning to get warm. "Oh?"

"That's not like her; at least, not like her recently. She's made every meeting for the past four months. I... S-she told me a few days ago she was going to pitch in at Sweet Apple Acres, and I haven't heard from her since." She looked up. "I'm not accusing you of anything, though! I just thought you might know something."

Was that only yesterday afternoon? It seemed like an eternity now. After trying to swish the little saliva she had left around her dry mouth, she managed "Yeah, she came by. I saw her the other day."

"Did she tell you where she was going?"

She numbly shook her head.

"Did you notice which direction she was going?" she pressed on. "I mean, if you saw where she was headed, I could---"

"Cheerilee, I blew up at her!"

"...What?"

"I lost my temper with her," Applejack said, the hot shame churning in her throat. "I had my back turned when she left. I... I can't help you."

Her stomach cramped up in a pang when she saw the look on the older mare's face. She knew that look well---that sick, hollow loss of hope.

"...I'm sorry," she added, wincing at how lame it sounded.

"It's fine." She tossed her fritters in her saddlebag and half-turned to leave. "She's a big girl, and she makes her own decisions. It's not your fault."

"Cheerilee, wait."

She paused, one hoof still in the air.

"Next time I see Rainbow Dash, I-I'll get her t'do a scan a'the whole area!" she blurted. "She can cover all of Ponyville in a few minutes, an' she can sniff out gossip pretty quick, too."

"No, I'll ask her myself. Like I said, this isn't your fault." A crooked, unhappy smile formed. "To be honest, you look like you have enough on your mind."

It wasn't until Cheerilee touched her lightly on the cheek that Applejack let out her breath. "I sure do."

"Feel like sharing? Misery loves company, after all."

Her eyes wandered to Cheerilee's flank; even after all the years they'd known each other, it still surprised her how sweet the teacher could be. No wonder she was adorned with those smiling faces. "I know this ain't the best time t'ask fer a favour, but..."

"But?"

"But... couldja please try an' talk some sense inta Big MacIntosh?" Applejack forced a smile. "He wants me t'marry Flim---Flim! Can y'believe it? An' he won't listen to a damn word I say about it!"

"And you think I'll be able to change his mind? We both know how obstinate he can be."

"Try." She gathered Cheerilee's hooves in her own. "Please? He'll listen to you. He always has."

They looked each other in the eye for a long time before she answered, and when she did, the gloom on her face seemed to have lifted a little. "I'll do my best, Applejack."

"Thank you," she said, waving goodbye.

"By the way," Cheerilee called over her shoulder, "You have a little Cake on you."

Applejack rubbed her hoof across her face. "Cake? I wasn't eatin' any---WAUGH!"

She sure was glad she hadn't instinctively bucked her back legs, because when she glanced behind her to find the source of that---that alien sucking feeling, she saw something that made her jaw drop open: a little diapered foal had its head tucked under her bulging belly, and, yes, now she was sure she could feel hot, puckered lips wrapped around her nipple.

"I'm losin' my damn mind," she said shakily.

Her voice caught the foal's attention, and it popped its head out from under her to see who'd spoken. Once she found herself staring into familiar blue eyes, Applejack wasn't sure whether to laugh or scream. "Pumpkin Cake?!"

She gave her a "Gah!" and a two-toothed grin, then went back to nursing on her teat.

All she could do at this point was chuckle. "Hate to tell ya this, kiddo, but yer tappin' a dry keg."

"Oh my goodness! I am so, so sorry!"

Mrs. Cake was on them in an instant, and pried her daughter off with a 'pop'. Before she could say anything else, Pumpkin let out a squeal of anger, reaching her forelegs out to Applejack. "NO!"

The last she could remember, the twins had been nearly-helpless little bundles. How long ago had she first looked through that nursery window? "Holy cow! She's talkin' already?!"

"Well, she's learned how to say 'no'," Mrs. Cake answered drily. "I have a feeling it's going to be her favourite word."

She began beating her tiny hooves against the foreleg holding her in place. "No! No! No!"

"Now, Pumpkin, it's not nice to do that to other ponies," she scolded, smushing a pacifier against the next 'No'. Turning back to Applejack, she sighed and said "Again, dearie, I'm really sorry for that. We've been trying to wean her, and she hasn't been taking it very well."

"You don't say." Her eyes moved from Pumpkin's scowling face up to her mother's care-worn one. "Uh, where's the other one?"

"Last I checked, Carrot was trying to find a pegasus to get him out of a tree," she said as she bounced her baby up and down. "Ask me who used her first two teeth to chew through his leash."

The pacifier went flying through the air, and Applejack caught it with her tail before it could land in the dust. "You sure got yer hooves full," she said uneasily as she passed it back.

"Oh goodness," Mrs. Cake said with a smile. "I'm scaring the daylights out of you, aren't I?"

"W-what?"

She returned the pacifier to Pumpkin, and tucked the foal over her shoulder so she could pat her back. "I can see the fear in your eyes, Applejack. I'm sorry---I didn't mean to scare you."

Applejack coughed. She didn't know what she hated more---the fact that was was so readable, or that Flim had been right about it. "So, uh... can I getcha anything?"

"Oh! Yes, of course."

They completed the transaction as best they could; between a pregnant mare and one trying to juggle a squirming baby, hauling a bag of apples into saddlebags wasn't easy. Just as she was about to leave, Applejack called her back.

"Mrs. Cake," she said hesitantly, not entirely sure why she was doing this, "I... you musta heard all the rumours goin' around about me."

She just frowned in confusion. "And...?"

"And... well..." Applejack looked down at her hooves, pushing one against the other. "You always been so kind t'me, even after... all that you heard. I jes' wanted to thank ya. From the bottom a'my heart."

"Oh, dearie."

She only looked up when she felt a hoof on her shoulder.

"You were so lucky, you know," Mrs. Cake said in a tone that was laced with more sadness than Applejack had ever heard from her. "You could just... just... just like that. One night, one try, and you... were blessed."

She bit her lip, but didn't pull away from the touch. "'Blessed'?"

"Do you have any idea how long we tried?" she went on. Pumpkin, who had fallen asleep, pressed her drooling face against her mother's neck, and Mrs. Cake gently nuzzled her. "Five years, we tried. For five long years, I would cry every time the test came back negative. If it weren't for those hormonal supplements, I never would have known what being a mother is like."

Applejack tried to clear her throat, but it felt clogged.

Before she could move, the teased pouf in the front of of Mrs. Cake's mane pressed against her bangs, and she gasped in surprise.

"You're terrified, aren't you?"

Their faces were so close together that she could see the beginnings of crow's-feet around her eyes. Just as she was about to draw another breath, Mrs. Cake pulled away.

"Applejack," she said with her usual gentleness, "Fear is a natural part of motherhood."

"Wh--?!"

"If the thought of having a foal terrifies you, well... that means you're doing it right. It doesn't matter what anypony else says---I just know you'll be a good mother."

"...Thank you," she said quietly.

Mrs. Cake switched her sleeping daughter to the other shoulder. "Besides... I gave birth to a unicorn and a pegasus. What do you think they've been saying about me?"

"Oh, honey," came a voice from behind her. "The only thing worse than being talked about is not being talked about."

Applejack made a pffing noise between her lips. "Yeah, I s'pose you would know, Pokey."

"I wouldn't, really," he said, nodding to Mrs. Cake as she excused herself. "Everything you've heard about me is a lie. The reality's far worse."

At first she was about to say something snarky about that room at the back of his shop that was sealed off with a beaded curtain, but changed her mind when she remembered he'd been one of her few loyal customers. She was pretty sure that's where Rarity had bought her that Hearth's Warming present, anyway. "What're y'buyin' today?"

"Just the usual." He leaned an elbow on the counter. "Now, where's that handsome brother of yours?"

Applejack laughed. "How many times do I haveta tell ya? He don't swing that way."

"Yet," he said with a smile. "I bet you a hundred bits I can bring out his inner fag."

"I ain't usually a bettin' mare, but make it two hundred, and yer on." She began boxing up his pies. How he could maintain his figure with the kind of sugary diet he lived on was beyond her.

And what a figure it is, she thought with a little tingle.

"Speaking of bets, I couldn't help but notice you have a certain... gentlecolt caller hanging around Sweet Apple Acres," Pokey said idly as he rummaged for his money.

She nearly dropped the pie on the ground. "W-what?!"

His grin widened as he slid his bits across to her. "I saw Big MacIntosh dragging him out of the train the other day, and the only luggage he had on him was a shotgun." He tapped his forehead. "I can put two and two together, honey."

Part of her wanted to tell him to mind his own business, but for some reason she couldn't quite remember how to speak.

Pokey picked up an apple and took a bite, sliding over an extra bit. "I really thought you'd have better taste than that, Applejack. I mean, a good-looking gal like you and that scrawny little thing? I'm surprised you didn't snap him in half when you first did the beast with two backs!" His eyes flicked down to her belly. "I sure hope the kid gets your looks."

She grabbed the elbow he had leaning on the counter and yanked him closer. "Y'know, Pokey," she said icily, "I like you. Really I do. But if you keep talkin' like that, yer gonna get a hoof up yer ass!"

"Wouldn't be the first time," he answered easily as he pulled back. "You know, thanks to you, I lost a hundred bits. I could have sworn that boy played for my team."

"You really gotta get yer gaydar fixed," she said, finally with a smile. "First my brother, and now the stallion who's been knockin' my boots?"

"And what a lucky stallion he is!" Pokey brushed a hoof across her cheek, which quickly flushed with colour. "You know, Applejack, of all the mares I know..."

Oh. Shit. She pressed her back legs together. She'd always found him to be... delectable, to say the least, and now that her body was surging with hormones...

"You're the only one...

Applejack swallowed heavily, and tried as hard as she could not to flinch when she felt a trickle going down her thigh. Back before the pregnancy, she had had to avoid him when she was in heat, because just the sight of those firm muscles could make her knees turn to jelly; but this sudden, stabbing libido was worse than any heat she'd had. At least estrus was predictable!

"I'd like to..."

Her clit winked out. Is he flirting with me?!

"...experiment with."

Holy shit! "R-really?" she stammered.

He took a lock of her hair and wound it around his hooftip. "If I say yes, will you give me a discount?"

"DAMMIT, Pokey!" She punched him in the shoulder. "Don't tease me like that!"

He laughed, gathering his purchases up with his magic. "You're so cute when you're flustered, honey."

"Don't call me honey," she grumbled as she tucked her tail over her backside. One stiff breeze, and her scent would be in the air. Pokey might not respond to it, but every other stallion would. It was bad enough some of them now considered her easy---she didn't need to add any fuel to the fire.

Why is my body doin' this? she thought miserably, recalling how easily the lust had overtaken her when Flim had first walked into her bedroom. Then she allowed herself a small smile. Oh well... at least now I have somepony back home who can stratch this itch.

Her neck snapped straight as if she'd sat on a tack. 'Somepony back home'? No. No, I didn't jes' think of him that way! ...Did I?!

Pokey had noticed the change in her demeanor. "What's the matter?"

"You have yerself a nice day," she mumbled. He opened his mouth to say something else, but thought better of it, and turned to leave with a little nod of his head.

I can't believe it. I'm already startin' to think of Flim as my husband, she thought as she watched the gentle sway of Pokey's retreating backside. The flexing of muscles under his pelt was almost hypnotic, and again she squeezed her hindlegs together. Dammit all! I hope Big Mac hasn't tired Flim out, 'cause I'm-a jump his damn bones when I get through here.

She sighed and rested her head against the stand in front of her, not even raising it when she heard the clopping of somepony's approaching hooves. She needed a moment; they could wait.

She'd fully expected an impatient huff, but not the lilting contralto that followed: "Dear Applejack, if I may be frank---were you checking out somepony's flank?"

Her head shot up. "I---what?!"

But the zebra's head was turned, her almond eyes giving Pokey an appreciative once-over. "I must admit, he is quite fine." Then she looked back at her friend with a wink. "Too bad he swings on the other vine."

"Don't make fun a'me, Zecora," she muttered. "I'm havin' a day from Tartarus, an' it ain't even noon yet."

"I should have taken your scowl as a warning. Are you still getting sick in the morning?"

"No, no, it's..." She looked down at the wood grain on the counter top. It's what? 'Gee, Zecora, I see you once every few months, I still think you're kind of weird, and I don't even know where you were born, but, hey, care to sit down in the middle of a marketplace and let somepony you barely know spill her guts out?' "It's... jes' a bad day is all."

She began to unwrap the large package she had been carrying on her back. "This may give your spirits a lift. I've brought the two of you a little gift."

"A gift?"

Underneath the embroidered scarf was a wicker basket, which she nudged over to Applejack. "I would have sooner brought my boon, but it's bad luck to give this too soon."

Gingerly, she rummaged through the basket, not sure what to expect. Zecora had packed it with a hoof-stitched baby blanket; under that were several ripe fruits, including a pomegranite, which she assumed were supposed to be symbolic of pregnancy, as well as a jar of honey and a small potted aloe plant.

"Aloe is bitter, and honey is sweet," she explained. "Put them both on its tongue when it's done with your teat. Though it may not find the tastes to be proper, they will show your foal what life has to offer."

"I..." A surge of hormones clasped her throat up in a tight pinch, and she could already feel tears stinging her eyes. "Zecora, I... I can't accept this!"

"Why not?"

"It's... it's too kind!" Dammit, not now! Applejack quickly tried to wipe away her tears, but it was in vain. They were already streaking down her face, and she felt a gentle hoof come to rest on her shoulder. "You... I can't remember the last nice thing I did fer you, an'... t'think a'the way we met...!"

"Shh." Her bracelets clanked together as she stroked Applejack's mane. "Please, do not place any blame. To deny my gift would cause me shame."

"O-okay," she said, sniffing. She carefully put the objects back in the basket, and covered them with the blanket. "It's really thoughful a'you."

Zecora's eyes lit up as she remembered something. "Oh! I have something else, as well.... although it may be too early to tell."

"Too early to tell what?"

She watched with curiosity as Zecora pulled a long, beaded string out of her saddlebag, placed it on the counter, and then began fiddling with her earring.

"What're y'doin'?"

Instead of answering, she tugged the ring loose and re-fastened it on the string; then she picked up both ends and held them together, the gold loop hanging like a pendant. Leaning over the stall, she gently pushed Applejack back into a sitting position and dangled her jewellery over her belly.

They both stared at it for a moment. Applejack reached out to touch it, but her hoof was swatted away. "Uh, what's that s'posed---"

"Ah!"

As if seized by some magic force, the ring suddenly began swinging in a huge circle, and Applejack's foal did a somersault.

"And now, its role is known!" Zecora declared, smiling. "Would you like to know the sex of your own?"

She stared at the pendulum, which was slowing its swing. "You know?!"

Zecora chuckled as she replaced her earring. "It's a trick that comes from way, way back. But the choice is yours, Applejack."

Biting her lip, she gave her belly a quick glance; when she met the zebra's eyes again, she nodded. With a wide smile, Zecora leaned over the stall, brushed her cheek against Applejack's, and whispered in her ear.

When she leaned back, Applejack was shaking. "A-are you sure?"

"Some say it's simply old zebra lore," she said, "But I have never been wrong before."

"Oh...!" She clapped her front hooves together like a filly on her birthday. "I can start thinkin' a'names now! I can't wait t'get back home an' tell everypony---!"

Should I tell Flim?

"You have got to be kidding me."

Flim surveyed the pigpen, watching the squealing beasts rolling around in the muck. "You actually want me to get in there?"

"Eeyup." He dropped the slop bucket next to the unicorn. "Gather up all the bruised an' rotten apples, then fill the through. After their breakfast, you can get to washin' 'em up."

"Wash them up? Were you dropped on your head as a foal?" A sow went splashing by him, and he jumped back before the mud could hit him. "They're pigs! They're just going to get dirty again!"

"I don't tell you how to do yer job. Don't tell me how to do mine."

Flim jerked at his vest. "Do you know how hard this is to clean?"

"So take it off."

"Argh! Fine. But if I get trampled, you're taking me to the hospital." Flim unbottoned his vest and shirt and hung them on a low-hanging branch. Just as he began to levitate the bucket, a firm swat landed on his horn, cutting off the magic with a crackle. "OW!"

"Nope," Big MacIntosh snapped.

"What do you mean, 'nope'?" he said as he rubbed his horn.

"No magic," he said evenly. "So long's yer here, yer workin' like an Earth pony."

"Why not?! Look at me!" He sat back on his haunches, gesturing down at his skinny body. "Do you really think I can pull my weight around here without it?"

"No magic," he repeated.

Flim opened his mouth, then closed it as his eyes flicked to the side. When they met his captor's again, they were narrowed. "Wait a minute. I know what this is about."

Big MacIntosh just raised an eyebrow.

Poking a hooftip under the yoke, Flim went on: "You're trying to tire me out so I don't have the energy to go visit Applejack again tonight."

To his surprise, Mac actually cracked a smile. "I hadn't thought a'that. But now that y'mention it... it ain't a bad idea."

"Dammit!"

He simply said again: "No magic. An' I'm holdin' you to that. When y'work on this farm, yer workin' like us."

Flim bucked the tree in frustration. "Oh, come off it! You had two unicorns helping you when you cheated!"

"That was different," he said thinly, and took a step closer, making Flim back up into the tree behind him.

"Yes, it was different. Because you cheated."

"You agreed to it!"

"It. Was. Still. Cheating!"

"Get t'work before I get mad," he gritted out. "And if you say 'cheated' one more time---"

Flim cut him off, waving a hoof dismissively. "What? What'll you do? You know as well as I do that you can't punch me."

That made a little flicker go over his face, but Big MacIntosh recovered easily. "I ain't gonna hit you."

"Didn't think so," he smirked.

He was surprised to see his cocky expression returned. "But... I might tell AJ about yer li'l feathered friend."

Mac's smile grew as wide as Flim's eyes.

"I... I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh yeah? You forget who I saw you sharin' a room with, huh?"

"He needed a place to stay," Flim said as smoothly as he could. "I let him crash in my room. Nothing more."

"Oh, bullshit! I saw that bed!"

The unicorn's mouth opened, but he didn't have a better comback than "Er-r-r..."

Although he normally wasn't one to egg somepony on, the blush that was darkening Flim's face encouraged Mac to push it a little further: "An' I saw how you were limpin', you little pillow-biter. Ain'tcha even stallion enough to be on top, huh?"

Flim's ears began flicking around in circles, and he blew his breath out his nostrils. "So what?!"

"If I know my sister," he said smugly, "She ain't gonna take well t'knowin' you play fer both teams."

"You're a fine one to talk about playing on teams! How long have you been on the bench, hm?"

The blow landed on the tree trunk a half-inch from his face.

"Oh, that hit a nerve, did it?" Flim said, eyeing the huge hoof. Even though he'd flinched when the bark next to his cheek had broken into splinters, he was regaining a bit of his confidence. "Don't you ever think things through? If Applejack finds out, she'll never agree to marry me."

"She ain't got much of a choice." Big MacIntosh prodded his barrel. "An' neither do you."

Flim swatted his hoof away. "Oh yeah? All I have to do is bring up one of my past coltfriends, and she'll think I'm gay. That would be enough to throw a monkey wrench in your nefarious little plans."

"And enough to make her cut off the sex," he said sharply.

That gave him pause. He hated to admit it, but that was a good point.

"That's the only reason yer stickin' around, ain't it?" Big MacIntosh continued. "Don't try an' kid me. Yer jes' usin' her, an' we both know it."

"It never occured to you that I might actually like her?"

He snorted. "You like one part of her."

"No, I like her whole body. And I'll enjoy her body as often as I ca---"

He knew that was a mistake even before the words left his mouth. Flim let out a weak gasp when a hoof slammed up against his throat, pinning him to the tree.

"Now you listen t'me," he hissed. "Fer the rest a'the time yer here, yer gonna do what I say. Got it? An' if you try an' pull any shit with me, Applejack's gonna learn exactly what you are. You'll be stuck married to a mare who won't even touch ya. How'dya like that?!"

Flim slumped down when the pressure on his neck released, and glared up at the larger stallion, coughing. "Well, asshole, if you out me to Applejack, I'll..."

"You'll what?"

"...I'll do something that'll make you extremely uncomfortable," he finished.

Mac clenched his jaw. "Yer already screwin' my baby sister!" he screamed, his hot breath shooting out over Flim's face. "How much more 'uncomfortable' can y'make me?!"

"Try this on for size."

The last time he'd heard that, a drunk stallion had taken a swing at him. Big MacIntosh was fully expecting a punch. A punch he could've handled, especially coming from a weakling like Flim.

What he absolutely couldn't handle, though, was a kiss.

He gasped, and instantly regretted it, because that let a tongue into his mouth. He was too startled to even bite down. His eyes just stayed slightly unfocused as he felt his lower lip get sucked forward. Flim's mouth still tasted sweet like the pancakes from breakfast, and his tongue felt light and ticklish as it danced along the roof of his mouth.

I'm... kissing a stallion...? he thought in some dim corner of his brain. Is this really happening, or...?

A hoof gently pressed against his shoulder, moving down to his barrel. It began tracing slow circles.

What the FUCK?!

"Mmm... not bad," Flim said as he pulled away. Seeing as Mac was still in shock, he leaned forward and whispered in his ear: "You know, if I didn't absolutely hate your guts, I'd probably find you pretty attractive."

He just made a quiet choking noise.

"You're not really my type, but I do make the occasional exception for stallions as stacked as you are," he murmured as he walked away, swishing his tail up against Mac's cutie mark. "And, for your information, I'm not a bottom. I like to... heh.... switch things up."

Flim flashed him a huge grin, and as if that wasn't enough, he tacked on "So if you ever feel like lifting your tail, well, you know where to find me."

Instinctively, his tail flicked down over his ass. Big MacIntosh listened to the retreating hoofsteps---and the smarmy humming---and slowly blinked.

He had just kissed another stallion. He had just kissed another stallion.

"What..." he breathed, "The... fuck... just... HAPPENED?!"

"And me without my camera."

"GYAH!"

He whirled around to see Cheerilee grinning up at him.

"Hey!" He frantically pointed at Flim, who was now just a point on the horizon. "He kissed me! I h-had n-n-n-nothing to do with it!!"

She just giggled. "Relax, Mac. I saw the whole thing."

His shoulders slumped in relief. "Oh, Cheery... You wouldn't believe the day I've had."

"That makes two of us." She sat down in the shade of the tree and carefully flicked her tail back and forth over the patch of soft moss next to her. "Can we talk?"

Just A Phase [clop]

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Big MacIntosh watched Cheerilee's tail as it beckoned him to sit beside her. "Talk?"

"Mm-hm."

"Why?" He couldn't remember the last time they'd had a conversation longer than a few sentences. With one rather significant exception... but he could barely remember most of that day, anyway.

"Well, I..." Again she gestured with her tail to the spot beside her, but Mac hadn't moved. "I thought it would be nice to catch up a bit."

"Somethin' prompt this?"

"Oh, I don't know," she said easily, although she wasn't exactly looking him in the eye. "I just thought you could stand to blow off some steam."

His left ear twitched back, but that was the only sign of emotion on his face. "AJ sent ya t'lecture me, didn't she?"

Her smile snapped into a gasp; then it turned into an embarrassed titter. She'd never been able to bullshit very well, especially around him. "Guilty as charged."

He finally lowered himself to the ground beside her. "Well, don't waste yer time. I already made up my mind."

"In that case," she said, letting her tail stroke gently across his side, "It wouldn't hurt just to hear me out, would it?"

Big Mac moved his half-frown to the other side of his mouth. "I s'pose not."

They sat in silence, watching Flim as he went about whistling and gathering up the unsellable apples. Every now and then he'd look over to them and flash a grin, making Mac's jaw set harder.

"You don't like having him around, do you?" She said it in a whisper, not sure whether or not they were within Flim's earshot. It was a safe bet he knew they were talking about him, anyway.

"Nope."

"Well then, do you really want to be tied to him for the rest of your life?"

He tried to glance away, but with Cheerilee to his left and Flim to his right, he didn't have anywhere to look aside from down at his hooves. "I'll live."

"Really? Because you already look like you're a heartbeat away from popping a blood vessel." It was probably nothing he hadn't heard before, so... "Will you really be able to live knowing that that stallion's going to be resting his head on your sister's pillow for---"

The memory of Applejack's rumpled bed flashed through his mind in all its wince-worthy glory. "That's enough, Cheerilee!"

"That's what marriage does, you know," she added, her voice dropping. "It... ties ponies together."

He just snorted.

"...But not forever," she went on. "Look, we both know what those two are like. Trying to tie Flim to Applejack would be like nailing a will-o'-the-wisp to the ground."

"Y'know, my Pa used to say that I could do anything I set my mind to."

Cheerilee delicately placed her hoof over his. "How long do you think it'll last?"

She wasn't surprised when he yanked his foreleg away, but what really shocked her was the look on his face when he finally met her eye and shot back "You really don't know much about marriage, do ya?"

"I..." Wow. That cut her a little too deeply; just yesterday a smugly-grinning Diamond Tiara had asked her, voice full of put-on innocence, why she was an 'old maid'. She swallowed, reminding herself that Mac's nerves were flayed raw, and he was bound to say some tactless things. "Um. Well, maybe not. But do I know that my parents have been together for almost forty years now. I also know---as does anypony who's ever met them---that they should've divorced long before it got toxic."

Reading Big MacIntosh's guarded face was a fine art, but years of practice made it easy for Cheerilee; the way his eyes unfocused slightly let her know that he agreed with her---albeit reluctantly---at least on that point. Neither of them needed to remind the other of the first disastrous dinner he'd had at her place, back when she was living with her family.

Then he turned his head again. "In places like Sire Flanka an' Marerashtra, most marriages are arranged. An' those types a'marriages almost never end in divorce."

"You've done your homework," she remarked, trying to keep from sounding snide.

"Eeyup."

"But what you apparently skimmed over was the part where it said that arranged marriages are usually betweenv older stallions and young fillies, and that the reason they don't often end in divorce is because of societal taboo---"

"DAMMIT, CHERRILEE!"

It took him a few heaving breaths before he realized that he'd shot up to his hooves, and was now glaring down at his friend. And he'd seen that quick fear that had jolted across her features. Pulling a long, shaky breath, he took a step backwards; he couldn't stand how effortlessly intimidating his size made him sometimes.

"I'm sorry," he said once his heart had stopped pounding enough for his tone to return to normal. "I jes'... you got no idea what I been goin' through here." Then his ears folded back. "If I didn't know better, I'd say that Flim's startin' t'be a bad influence on my sister. The way she's been actin'..."

"And you want her to marry that bad influence?"

"Once she's married, she's..."

Cheerilee just nodded and sat there patiently; she could tell by the way he was moving his lips that he was trying to think of how to put his thoughts into words.

"Once she's married," he finally said, "She'll start a new part a'her life. Sure, she'll still be on the farm, but we'll build her a nice lil' place of her own, y'know, fer... her an' her husband an' the foal." His eyes were beginning to look tired. "She'll have her own family, an' even though she'll always be my baby sister, I won't haveta... always be worryin' about her an' lookin' out fer her..."

He had paused for so long that Cheerilee thought he was finished, but as she was opening her mouth to speak, he managed to get the last thought out: "She wants me t'see her as a grown mare. An' I want that, too. I want her t'be able t'have that. To be happy." Then he flashed her a tight smile. "In the meantime, though, she's been drivin' me crazy."

"Mmm." She brushed a hooftip over the moss. "As much as I love my family, there have been times when I'd have switched sisters with you in a heartbeat."

His smile faded. "I thought Berry was doin' better."

"Yes. Was."

"Oh." All he could think of to say was, again, "I'm sorry."

She shrugged. "It's not your fault."

A soft breeze blew between them, and she lifted a hoof to tuck her mane back in place. After a moment of silence, she began to speak again. "I'm sorry, too. I didn't mean to upset you."

He didn't know what to say. Cheerilee was the youngest of her family; she'd have no idea what it was like to have to take the lead. And she'd never had to make a deathbed promise to take care of the little ones. Even though their relationship was strained, at least her father was still alive.

No, she'd never truly understand.

"I..." he began, his voice trembling. "I nearly k-k-k-killed him."

"What...?"

"I... I..."

His throat felt hot and tight. "He... I nearly killed him."

He couldn't look up. He couldn't---not into her calm green eyes. There was no way he could tell her about the rage he felt; he knew how much it scared her. He wasn't sure if she knew it scared him, too.

"More'n once," he said. His pupils were slowly shrinking, as if the gravity of the situation was dawning on him for the first time. "I... Cheerilee, I almost killed another pony!"

She touched his arm as he took his head in his hooves, pressing his eyes closed. "I coulda landed myself in jail...!"

"Shh, shh." She nestled her muzzle in the space between his yoke and his head, and gave him a peck on the cheek. "The important thing is you didn't."

He remembered the way his sister's scream rang in his ears when he had Flim pinned to the wall. "I came really damn close!"

"But you didn't," she said again. "You're a good stallion, Big MacIntosh. Better than you think. I know that, at the end of the day, you'll do what's right."

He nodded.

"So..." she prompted, "Does what you're doing feel right?"

That caught his attention, and the agonized look on his face fluttered away, turning back into his usual stolid expression.

"Cheery," he said carefully, "I know yer heart's in the right place, but... so is mine. This is jes' somethin' I gotta do."

"I know," she replied as she rose. "Trust me, I know you think marriage is the only solution to an unplanned pregnancy."

"Not the only way," he corrected her, "But it's the best."

Cheerilee tilted her head to the side, squinting up at him. "Really? Was it the best idea sixteen years ago?"

She kept her eyes locked on his, but in her peripheral vision she sensed that Flim had stopped moving. He was a good ten yards away, so chances were he couldn't hear them, but she lowered her voice anyway.

"It didn't work so well that time, did it?"

The back of Mac's mane ruffled up along his neck, and a particularly sour look went across his face. She saw that little flicker between his eyebrows that always signaled she'd pushed it a bit too far.

Well, in for a penny, in for a pound.

Cheerilee knew he'd dodge the nuzzle, but she managed to get her lips up to his ear. "I know you want to right what's wrong, Mac," she sighed. "I've always loved that about you."

When she pulled back again, his eyes shot away from hers---Oh, no. Losing eye contact was not a good sign.

Placing her hoof on his broad barrel, she went on: "I know you want the best for your sister, but... what's under that, Mac? What's underneath all of this?"

He didn't answer.

"It's not going to fix what happened."

His head turned slightly, and saw her looking up at him with a soft sort of sadness he hadn't seen on her face in ages.

"Mac," she said as she touched his shoulder, "This isn't going to bring back the one we lost."

And, just like that, he jerked away. "Enough."

"Hey---!"

"Cheerilee," he pushed out in a sore, tired voice, "You gotta leave now."

She began to speak, but the words seemed to die on the way out. Still staring down at the moss beneath his hooves, he heard her whisper her goodbye, and then closed his eyes as her hoofsteps retreated.

Damnation. The harder I try, the worse it keeps getting...

When he finally lifted his eyes from the ground, they landed on the face he least wanted to see right then. Flim, standing in the pigpen, had folded his forelegs over the fence, his chin resting on top, and he was eyeing Mac with an inscrutible look on his face.

"She seems nice," he said.

"Piss off."

Flim didn't have to look behind him to know that most of the pigs had stopped to listen to the conversation, too. He watched as Big MacIntosh lumbered away, but not back to the apple trees he was harvesting; he stopped at the foot of a yew, a small, slender sapling that couldn't have been more than a few decades old...

When he saw Mac sit down by the daisies at the tree's base, the realization hit him like a slap upside the head:

Sixteen. That tree is sixteen years old.

Applejack hesitated at the bend in the road. The bell had sounded noon as she was packing up to leave, and the amount of unsold wares that had to be put away made her almost ten minutes late to meet up with Flim.

If he's still there.

She scuffed a hoof against the ground, willing herself to press onward. Little by little she was learning to tell the difference between the baby's movements and the nervousness lurching in her stomach...

What if he's not there? What'll I do then?

She licked her dry lips. You'll march yerself on home, that's what you'll do, Applejack. If he's gone, he's g...

He was there.

Applejack couldn't help but grin, especially when she saw him tapping a hoof impatiently against the ground. His mane had gone from wavy to damp and frizzy, which she found strangely endearing---he must've left whatever gunk he used to keep it in place back at the hotel, and in its absence he was beginning to look like a scarecrow.

She must've laughed out loud, because he suddenly looked her way. "Well, it took you long enou---"

SPLAT.

It took them both a few moments to realize what had just happened: one second he was addressing her, and the very next, there was a tomato splattered on his face.

"That must be Ponyville's welcoming committee," he grumbled.

Applejack looked over her shoulder, but the road was deserted. "Where'd that even come from?!"

Wiping the gunk off, Flim pointed up in the air. "I'm guessing it's from your little friend there."

As soon as she saw the shadow bobbing on the ground, her ears curled up against the sides of her head. "Oh no," she whispered. She didn't have to look into the sky to know who was up there.

"I got plenty more where that came from!" Rainbow Dash hollered, readying another tomato. "You sure got some nerve showing your ugly mug around here!"

"I'm the one who shouldn't show my face?" he shot back. "Weren't you the one eating cider out of the dirt?"

That took her aback, but only for a bit. Flushing with anger, Rainbow pointed at the huge bulge in her saddlebag and said "I got a watermelon in here, too! You want that to land on your face, smartass?"

"Hey," Applejack said as she stepped between them.

"You just got lucky on the first shot. Pegasi like you, well, you're like lightning---you can never strike the same place twice!"

"You wanna bet?"

Applejack nervously shifted her eyes from one to the other. "C'mon, now..."

"I sure do! You caught me off-gaurd, but now that I know you're there, I bet I could dodge anything you throw at me!"

"Oh, you are so on!" She hefted the watermelon over her head. "Get ready, 'cause I'm gonna give that shiner of yours a new friend!" The fruit lowered a little as she eyed up her target. "AJ, move outta the way."

Flim scoffed and tossed his head. "Yes, do move aside. A bumbling klutz like her needs as clear a target as poss---"

"STOP IT!"

They both froze as Applejack turned and gave Flim a light smack on his barrel. "You watch what yer sayin' about my friend!"

"Ha!" She tucked the watermelon back in her bag. "You tell him, AJ!"

"An' don't you go flappin' yer lips, either!"

She sighed and readjusted her hat, listening to the sound of Rainbow hovering to the ground. "Look, we're all grown-ups here. Ain't no reason t'go about squabblin' like foals on the schoolyard."

"She started it." And he actually stuck his tongue out.

That almost made her laugh, but all she'd allow was a small smile as she nudged him with her elbow. "C'mon, sugarcube. Let it roll offa yer back."

Rainbow took a stumbling step backward. "Whoa, whoa, whoa!"

"What?"

"Did you just call him..."

The blush hit her like a hard slap. Whoops.

"You just called him 'sugarcube'!" her friend said, her face slack with shock.

"I didn't..." She wasn't sure how to end that sentence. There seemed to be a void in her brain where words usually formed.

Rainbow shoved an accusatory hoof at Flim. "Applejack, I heard you! I heard you say that!"

"I-I didn't mean anything by it," she mumbled to the ground. "It... jes' kinda slipped out..."

The tip of a hoof caught her by the chin, and her head was firmly turned around so she was eye-to-eye with Rainbow. She was expecting some sort of rebuke, but instead the pegasus tilted her head from side to side, carefully examining her face with a theatrically-confused frown. Before Applejack could ask what she was doing, Rainbow dropped her hoof back to the ground and smirked. "Nice try, Chrysalis, but the real Applejack would never say something like that."

A noise of disgust left her nostrils. "Don't even joke!"

"I... think I may have missed a step there," Flim said as he refolded his handkercheif.

"I wasn't talking to you!" She folded her forelegs and turned back to Applejack. "So, you wanna tell me what this is all about?"

"I---" She noticed Rainbow's eyes dart off behind her as Flim's magic crackled, lifting the harness off her back. "I... uh..."

"Okay, let's start with the basics: what is he doing back here?"

She looked to Flim for help, but he just shrugged as if to say 'You're on your own'. She decided to creatively edit out her brother's less-than-legal role in this whole fiasco. "He, uh, he... heard I was pregnant, an' he's... um... he's workin' at Sweet Apple Acres fer the time bein'."

"Uh-huh."

She pressed her lips together. "Y'know I ain't lyin', Rainbow Dash."

"So, what you're telling me is, he just..." Rainbow frowned and waved a hoof as she searched for the right words. "Decided, out of the goodness of his little black heart, to come and work for the ponies who were responsible for his public humiliation?"

Even without looking back at him, she could tell he was trying not to laugh. "Well, it does sound stupid when ya put it that way."

Rainbow began a slow, sly walk up to her. "There's something you're not telling me, Applejack," she said with a grin. "And that means it's gotta be juicy!" She prodded her shoulder. "C'mon! Details!"

"Sorry, Rarity, but there ain't nothin' 'juicy' 'bout this whole situation!"

"Oh yeah?" She took a step closer, eyeing her up and down. "Then why are you blushing?"

Oh, Celestia fucking damn her poker face.

Rainbow watched, amazed, as her friend and one of her many sworn enemies exchanged an awkward, knowing look.

"Why are you blushing?" she repeated.

Applejack crossed her hind legs.

She wasn't allowed enough time to respond; Rainbow's face went from being twisted in confusion to a sudden, sharp realization. She quickly looked from one face to the other, and had to choke back her giggles. "Oh... my... gosh!" she gasped, and slammed both front hooves over her gaping mouth. "You're totally shtupping him, aren't you?!"

"RAINBOW DASH!"

It was too late---she was already on her back, kicking her hooves up and cackling with laughter.

"It's. Not. Funny," she groused, pulling her hat over her face.

"Man oh man," she wheezed as she rolled onto her side, "Sleeping with stallions is bad enough, AJ, but---this one? Ew!"

Applejack glanced at Flim, and for a split-second he looked angry; then his eyes went wide, his mouth curled up, and he burst out laughing.

Rainbow, on the other hoof, had stopped. "Hey, genius, that was a dis. You're not supposed to find it funny."

"It's... not... that!" he managed between snorts of laughter. By this point he was laughing so hard he had to press his shoulder against the side of the cart to keep from collapsing. "I just---Bahahaha! I just figured something out!"

"What...?"

"Why didn't I think of it sooner?" he said, mostly to himself, draping a foreleg over his face. "Of all her friends... Of course it was the rainbow one! Of course it was! Hahahaha!!"

"Great. I'm gonna be hearin' about that later," Applejack said under her breath.

Her friend was gawking at Flim. "Is he making fun of me or is he just crazy?"

"Both. Now, look, I gotta get goin'---"

Again, her face was pulled back around, but this time the look in Rainbow's eyes was one of concern. "AJ," she said quietly, "Talk to me."

"Okay," she said.

"C'mon."

"I'm talkin', ain't I?"

"Yeah, but not enough!" The pegasus looked over her shoulder and frowned as she watched Flim daub the tears out of the corners of his eyes. He was still chuckling to himself. "What in the name of Celestia's holy pink pucker is going on here?"

Applejack grit her teeth. The noonday sun was baking the back of her neck, and her back hurt, and she had to pee, and her little mistake was trying to do yoga inside of her, and she was fucking embarrassed beyond belief. Despite her Earth pony pride, at that very moment, she would have given anything for the ability to teleport somewhere else. Anywhere else.

"Fuck," she muttered.

Flim passed her the canteen, and after a drink, she gave Rainbow the Colt's Notes version. She mentioned the part about her sister's behaviour at school, but skipped Berry's visit, opting instead to recount how Mac had dragged her suitor back to face the music. Using very loose, vague terms, she acknowledged the more physical aspect of their relationship... but was sure to include the part where Flim got doused the morning after. When she was done giving the basics, Rainbow was sitting cross-legged, her chin propped up on a hoof, shaking her head.

"Wow," she said. "You sure are in deep shit, AJ."

"Yer tellin' me."

"Okay. Jeez. I have so many questions I don't even know where to start. One thing I've never understood, though..." Rainbow got back on her hooves, if only to fling one up and down in Flim's direction. "You wanna explain why that's worth getting in trouble over, huh?"

He passed a hoof over his scraggly mane. "It's called raw charisma, featherbrain. You should try it sometime."

She puffed her chest out. "Hey! I got more charisma in my left tit than you do in---"

"Knock it off, now!" Stamping a back hoof made everything slosh around inside her, but she had to make her point. "I am not gonna have you two fightin' like rabid cats out here in the middle of the road!"

"Whose side are you on, anyway?"

"I ain't on a side," she said, rubbing a hoof against the sweat beading on her temples. "I don't want there t'even be sides here."

Rainbow tapped a hooftip against the ground. "Time was, you'd be over here with me throwing rotten food at him, too." She'd been holding it back, but let her mouth crack in a smirk. "Guess things have changed now that you have a crush on him!"

She hadn't stopped blushing, and it just got hotter. "Oh, Rainbow Dash. Really? Sometimes I wonder if yer ever gonna grow up."

"But I'm right, aren't I?"

Applejack quickly looked away, but she'd seen Flim's ears perk up in interest. "He's... growin' on me," she mumbled.

"I'm sure that not the only thing he's doing..." She paused, eyes bugging, as if something had just struck her; it wasn't until she'd lifted her snout to sniff the air that Applejack realized, with a sinking horror, what her friend had noticed.

"Aw, man, AJ!" Rainbow said once she'd caught the scent, "You got it bad!"

"No! No I don't!" she cried. "T'aint nothin'! I'm jes'---That ain't because a'him!"

"Sure it ain't," she said with a snicker.

"Argh!" She ripped her hat off and flung it to the ground in frustration. Some days she could stand Rainbow's teasing, but today she'd long since lost her patience. "I saw Pokey in the market, okay?! That's why I'm all riled up!"

Her jaw snapped shut, but what she'd just said hung ominously in the air. She slowly turned to look at Flim, and met his surprised look with an apologetic expression. "I-I'm sorry, sugarcube. I jes'..."

"Hey!" Rainbow pressed her shoulder against her friend's. "You don't have to apologize to him. He doesn't own you, y'know."

"Flim," Applejack said with a strained smile, "Couldja maybe start headin' on back?"

He returned Rainbow's glare. "Gladly."

"I'll catch up."

He reached up to his head, remembered he wasn't wearing his hat, and turned the gesture into a half-bow instead. Rainbow was shaking her head as she watched him leave, and waited for Applejack to dust her hat off and replace it before starting the trot towards Sweet Apple Acres.

"So... this is really happening? Big Mac's not letting up with the whole marriage idea?"

"Nope," she said gruffly.

"Jeez. I always thought he was easygoing," she remarked. "I had no idea he'd stick to his guns like that. I mean... Heh." She grinned sheepishly. "Guess that wasn't the best choice of words."

"Speakin' a'which, can y'keep that part between us?" Applejack said. "I really don't want him gettin' in any trouble."

"AJ, right now, everypony's in trouble." She landed in front of her so they were facing, forcing Applejack to stop. "Have you tried talking to him about it?"

Wow, thanks! I never woulda thought a'tryin' that! What a great idea! She squeezed her eyes shut. No. This wasn't the time for sarcasm. "Yeah. Nothin' I say'll change his mind."

She nodded, tapping at her chin, and floated beside Applejack as she began to walk again.

"I mean, I've seen him actin' stubborn before, but this has gotta be a record or somethin'. He's been drivin' me crazy!" She clucked her tongue as she frowned at the dirt trail. "When he gets an idea in his head, it's like a boa constrictor on a stuck pig---there's jes' no gettin' it back out. He figures this'll be good fer me, an'---dammit, he's got no idea what I'm goin' through!"

Once she was sure the little rant was over, Rainbow asked "Has he picked a date?"

"Uh-huh. As soon as the courthouse opens."

"Oh wow. No dress? No cake, no flowers, nothing?"

"I got a dress," she said reluctantly. "But aside from that, it ain't gonna be much of a party. Pinkie's gonna be cryin' fer all the wrong reasons."

"Y'know, I always pictured you to be the type who'd want a big wedding." She was looking at the sky with a strange smile on her face. "You'd invite your whole family, and there'd be a huge buffet with all these Apple family goodies on it, maybe hire a band, have a hoedown---"

Her ear twitched at the quiet noise that came from Applejack's pinched throat. Judging from the pained look on her friend's face, she'd hit it a little too on the nose.

"So, uh---Think he'll listen to me?"

"Nope." She wasn't even sure if the two of them had had a conversation before. "I asked Cheerilee, an' if she can't get him t'change his mind, nopony can."

"This sounds like a job for Cadence."

"Fer a second there I thought you were gonna say Daring Do," she said with a wry grin. "I thought a'that too, actually. But..." Twilight's explanation had already popped up in her head. "Candence's magic can't force two ponies t'fall in love; she jes' brings out the feelings they already had."

"But you do have feelings for him, right?"

"Not gonna marry him," she said flatly. "But unless we can figure out howta change my brother's mind, that's what's gonna happen."

The conversation lulled there for a few long minutes. They'd almost caught up to Flim when Rainbow suddenly broke the silence, loud and sharp enough to make Applejack jump, and clapped a hoof on her shoulder: "Wait!"

"What? Jeez, what?!"

She was rubbing her front hooves together as if she was plotting to take over Equestria. "...Maybe we don't have to change his mind."

"I don't follow."

"You've been to a lot of weddings, right?"

Considering the size of the Apple family, there was at least one a year. She couldn't travel to all of them, but she'd made the majority. "A'course."

"Well, what does the official say right before they pronounce them married?"

"Uh, I think it's called an officiant, and..." It took her a few seconds to scour her brain for the answer. "It's somethin' like 'If anypony present knows why these two should not marry'---"

"'Speak now, or forever hold your peace'! Bingo!" she said, and pounded her hoof in the air. "That's it, babe! That's your ticket out!"

She hadn't noticed her hindlegs had buckled until her rump hit the ground. "Wow," she breathed.

Rainbow did a triumphant loop. "See? Isn't it brilliant?"

But suddenly the warm happiness blooming inside her went cold. "I can't do that," she said with a dejected sigh. "My brother'll never forgive me."

"You don't have to do it, dummy. I'll do it."

Applejack shook her head. Sometimes she thought that hope was a dangerous thing, because the pain was worse when it was snatched away than when it was never there to begin with. "No, you can't either. If you tell a whole courthouse what Big Mac did, he'll get arrested."

"Oh, AJ." She chuckled and gave her a reassuring nuzzle. "I wouldn't tell them that."

"But you gotta have a better reason than jes' 'They ain't in love'! It's gotta stick!"

"This is Flim we're talking about," she said, rolling her eyes. "I'm sure we can find some dirt on him."

There it was again, that flutter of hope. She tried not to cling to it too hard. "Is it legal? I mean, would that get me outta marrying?"

"I dunno, but I'm seeing Twilight later---she'd know, and even if she doesn't, I'm sure I'll leave with a huge pile of law books."

Before Rainbow could move out of her reach, Applejack's foreleg shot out, and she caught her friend's hoof with her own. "You'd do that?" she whispered, her eyes shining. "Fer me?"

Her free hoof came to rest on the side of Applejack's head, and she gently stroked the blonde mane. "Of course," she said, "But it's for the rest of us, too. Celestia knows we don't wanna become 'The Elements of Harmony... and him'."

Applejack laughed as she was pulled into a hug. "Aw, thank ya so much, Rainbow!"

"Anytime. Listen," she said, her hooves on Applejack's arms, "I got some stuff I need to do, but if I think of something, I'll swing by and let you know. Sound good?"

She beamed. "Perfect."

Rainbow leaned forward and reached around her again, but instead of another hug, her hooves worked down to Applejack's belly, which got an affectionate pat. "Cool. See you two later!"

Her mane and tail billowed back from the gust the sudden takeoff left in its wake. Watching her friend's signature colours streak away across the sky, Applejack raised a hoof to her cheek and smiled, touching the warm spot left there.

"Is she gone?"

She glanced at Flim, and immediately stopped smiling. Even though it had only taken a split-second, she was sure he'd seen Rainbow kiss her. "Yeah, she's gone."

"Good."

"So long as y'stay here, I don't want you fightin' with my friends," she said curtly as she trotted up beside him.

He laughed. "I'm sure I can find it in my 'little black heart' to be courteous to her."

Applejack chewed on her lip. "Aw, shucks. I'm sorry about that. She can be kinda... blunt sometimes."

"No wonder you two get along so well." His eyes lit up. "Speaking of which..."

She groaned through her teeth. Here it comes.

"How far did you get with her?"

"I already told you. Nothin' happened. A'n even if somethin' did happen, I wouldn't tell you!"

"Hey," he said playfully. "If you get to fantasize about somepony else, so do I."

The tips of his tail stroked across her cutie mark, and Applejack's blush deepened. He had her there. Well, might as well let the baby have his bottle.

"I..." She cleared her throat. "Okay, look. After you, I was so put off stallions---any stallion---that I was willin' to try anthying."

"Oh?"

"She... We were jes' talkin'..."

The memory flooded back over her, and Applejack felt a little shiver go up her spine. She couldn't believe she was actually saying this, let alone with a stallion gawking at her. "She was lyin' next t'me on my bed, an'... she started kissin' my neck..."

Despite herself, she felt a couple of winks squeezing against her clit. Rainbow had been so skillful... and gentle...

"At first I thought she was jes' jokin' around, but then she lay herself on top a'me an', um, I could tell..."

"You could tell what?"

"That she was already, uh, really excited," she said without meeting his gaze. "She bit my ear, jes' how I like it, an' then moved down my body, pressin' little kisses against me, an'... I, uh... I was kinda embarrassed 'cause, I mean, I hadta admit it did feel good..."

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Flim's gait change from normal trotting to a kind of loping. Apparently he was enjoying the story. The slap of his member against his belly snapped her out of her reverie, and she shoved him. "You pervert! Gah, why am I even tellin' ya this?!"

Flim kissed her cheek. She didn't stop scowling, but she didn't pull away, either. "Because I asked you nicely, and you're indulging me."

"Well, that's it. Storytime's over."

"That's where it ended?" He sighed. "You're right. That was disappointing."

"Uh, not exactly..."

"Really? Well then, keep going!" he said, his voice dripping with enthusiasm.

She could still remember the way her chest was heaving as she stared up at the waterspot on her ceiling, her hooves gripping painfully at the sheets to keep them from moving to caress Rainbow's mane. "So, she was kissin' my belly, an' I could tell she was headin' fer the Diner Down South... y'know, most a'the time, I woulda felt funny about that. But I didn't make a move t'stop her." She paused, looking over at him. "Is that weird?"

"Not in the slightest."

"But---I hadta stop her a minute later."

"Why?"

Applejack looked him in the eyes. "She rubbed my stomach and said 'Hey there, kiddo!'. I was two weeks in, an'---it... scared the daylights outta me."

Sweet Apple Acres was on the horizon, and they came to a stop a few yards from the property line. Putting his arm around her, Flim said in a surprisingly compassionate tone "Would you have let her keep going if she hadn't done that?"

"I dunno," she said as she moved her tail away from where it had gotten matted against her hindquarters.

The action wasn't lost on him. "Are you getting... how did you put it? 'Riled up' again?"

"Are you kiddin'?" she said with a toothy grin. "I been 'riled up' since nine this mornin'."

He nipped at her ear and whispered "You must introduce me to this Pokey fellow."

"Why? You gonna fight fer my honour or somethin'?"

"Maybe I just want to see what kind of stallion turns your head."

"Flim," she said before she could stop herself, "You turned my head."

The blushed in unison.

"...Really?"

She rubbed the spot on her belly that had just been kicked. "Now I know yer fishin' fer compliments."

"No I'm not! It's just... I'm surprised you'd find me attractive." He smiled ruefully. "It's not like I've never looked in a mirror, sweetheart."

"Well, you got raw charisma," she said with a laugh, and ran her hoof through his mane. "Although yer lookin' kinda frizzy at the moment."

"I had to have another dip in the river before I came to get you," he explained. "The W---your brother made me clean the pigpen."

"You better be glad it wasn't the outhouse." After checking to make sure the coast was clear, she held a foreleg up to their left. "Y'see that tree over there, the one with a big scar on the South side where a brach snapped off?"

Squinting, he put a hoof over his eyes to block out the sun. "The one by the clearing?"

"Uh-huh."

Flim let out a gutteral noise when he felt a light scrape of teeth against his throat. The pinching little love bite ended, and a grinning Applejack added "Meet me there after you put the cart away. An' make it snappy, buster!" That last word ended with a slap to his cutie mark.

"Yes, ma'am!" he said, saluting.

"Hmm... I like it when you call me that," she said over her shoulder.

His eyes were on her ass as she sauntered away. "I bet you do."

Once he'd made it back to the indicated tree, he saw that Applejack had opened a trapdoor that hadn't been visible from his earlier vantage point---and she was giggling as if there was buried treasure under her hooves.

"C'mon," she said as she headed down into the cool, damp air. She was used to the creaky staircase, but it took Flim a little longer to navigate the unreliable wooden boards. When he got to the bottom, Applejack was almost bouncing in place, her tail swishing back and forth in excitement.

Scanning the dusty walls, he tried not to frown in disappointment. "I must say, I've never seen anypony get this worked up over a few jars of jam before."

"This here's our root cellar."

He took a step towards her and nearly tripped over a protruding root. "And?"

"Granny does most of her preservin' in the Spring," she said as she trotted back and forth, her tail still twitching, "An' we don't usually need 'em 'til the Fall."

"So?" he said as he watched her increasingly-erratic movements.

"So..."

She turned her back to him and, folding her forelegs, dropped her front half to the dirt floor. "Nopony comes down here in the summer." She kicked her hind hooves as far apart as she could, and purred "Down here, well... It's real private."

Flim grinned when her tail flagged up and over her back. "My, my! Are you trying to seduce me?"

She pushed out a hard wink. "That depends. Is it workin'?"

Instead of answering, he grabbed her by the cutie marks and pressed his muzzle into her folds. With a shriek of laughter, Applejack pushed back against him, her hips jutting up and down, and keened when she felt his wet tongue-tip sliding back and forth across her clit.

"Aw, yeah!"

The smacking sound his mouth made when it parted from her pussy made her shudder. "How do you want it this time?" he said, his breath blowing against her sex.

"Rut me," she moaned, rubbing her cheek into the floor. "Oh, Flim. Fuck me."

"As you wish," he said under his breath, and slowly ran the flat of his tongue up from her thick lips to her ass. The ring of muscle twitched a bit under the flickering caress, and then she felt a whoosh of air seperating them. Before she could complain, the air eased out of her lungs as Flim's weight settled on her back.

"Rough?"

"Please."

He snagged a clump of her mane in his teeth, and pressed forward. His flare snuggled itself between her wet lips, and with a fluid thrust, he was inside her.

"Hnng!" Applejack threw her head back and wrapped her tail around his body. "Yeah, jes' like that!"

Loathe as she was to admit it, sometimes she did fantasize about other ponies when she was making love. This wasn't one of those times. The hard, brutal thrusts inside her were so hot they burned her mind bare, and all she could do was lie there, dribbling and moaning more wantonly than when she was in the worst of her heats. Pokey's chiseled physique might have gotten her wet, but the only stallion on her mind now was the one atop her...

"Flim! Please!"

"Argh, dammit!" he said, letting her spit-soaked mane fall back to her neck. "Oh, Applejack, you have the sweetest pussy I've ever..."

He didn't get a chance to finish. "Ooh..." That came out between giggles. She grabbed one of the legs wrapped around her waist and brought it around to the bottom of her belly. "Feel that?"

Flim pressed his frog against her hide, and gasped. How could he not feel it? Her whole abdomen was quivering, undulating in and out from the flurry of kicks.

"I don't think the baby likes this much!" she laughed.

"Ha!" He tried to soothe the foal by rubbing up and down, but the onslaught continued. "Feels like it's having its first temper tantrum!"

"You should feel it from my side," she said, and pressed back against him when she felt the movement of his hips get jerky and erratic. As close as she was, she made a concerted effort to keep her grip on him slack---no way would she let him finish before her. Not again.

Flim's hoof moved from her belly to her teats, which made her head whip around. "Ah! C-careful! They're real tender!"

She let out a squeak when his hooftip brushed against her button---no, not quite on it, but just grazing over the hood. Her first lover, that clumsy oaf, had been a pegasus, but every colt and stallion she'd had between him and Flim had all been Earth ponies; her body was more attuned to the feeling of direct contact than it was to magic, and knowing he'd chosen to do that, to touch her so intimately, made her coo with pleasure. Even the fierce kicking inside her couldn't take away from that, and she let out a throaty moan when he took her ear between his teeth. Flim's cock slid back out, and then he slammed inside her so hard the foal jolted forward.

"Ah, piss!" she swore. "Y'made her move inside me!"

"What?"

She lifted a hindleg. "Argh, she kicked me in the lungs!"

He pulled out halfway. "Wh... 'she'? It's a 'she'?"

Closing her eyes, Applejack let out a long, keening breath.

"It's a 'she'?" he repeated.

The cock teasing at the edge of her body was making blood pound in her ears, but Applejack willed herself to suck the air back in her lungs. "Eeyup."

He pushed forward, but not enough to satisfy her. "How do you know?!"

"A... friend a'mine told me." That sounded weak, so she added "She's got a gift fer that kinda thing."

They stayed like that for a full minute, his prick pulsing against her, and finally, finally he slid up inside her again. "Oh, sweetheart," he hissed against her ear, "We're having a daughter?"

"We got ourselves a filly," she answered, and let her laugh ring out when he began tickling his hooftip across her side.

"A little girl..." he murmured.

"Tell ya what," she said with a push against him, "Howsabout we go back to focusing on me, hm?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said, and snatched her tail with his magic; he draped it over his shoulder, brushed her mane to the side, and sunk his teeth into a spot he knew she could easily hide. That made her smile---that first night together he couldn't have cared less about how many visible marks he left on her.

With one hoof he pried her cheek to the side, and then rubbed the underisde of the other against her ass. He couldn't penetrate her there, of course, but the kneading pressure against her muscle was enough to send shivers up her spine. She grinned around the lip she was biting. Maybe she'd let him in back there sometime...

The side of her face was getting gritty from rubbing on the floor, and as she was moving to switch to the other side Flim yanked up on the scruff of her neck, making her lift her head. "Hhng!"

"You 'ike 'at?" he grunted through the furry mouthful.

"Ye-e-e-e-ESSS!" She could feel him grinding his teeth, and the tiny spikes of pain rippled through the pleasure.

He let go, and laved his tongue over the reddening spot. "Think your friend would like to join us?"

"Don't make me haveta hurt you." It was hard to try to snarl when laughing.

"Oh, don't be such a---Ah!---stick in the mud," he said, nibbling along her jawline. "Mmm...I'd love to watch you preen her. Do you think she...unh... has sensitive wings?"

"You have no idea."

Applejack chortled when she felt him startle. "Wh---I was kidding! You've actually preened her?!"

"Naw. But she got loaded at a party a few months ago... Oooh." She could tell by the twitching in her pussy that she'd have to get this thought out fast before she lost the ability to speak normally. "Hah-aah! An' she told us about how this old friend a'hers would... mmm... groom her, an'... They ended up bein' way more'n jes' friends---"

"Ooh, oh shit. Tha-that's it," he panted, "I'm not gonna last long!"

After a quick snap of magic, he began frantically pulling on her clit, and Applejack giggled into her folded forelegs. Good boy. She arched her back so that his chin was resting on her head, moaning as she felt his chest heaving against her, his breath making her bangs flutter. Remarkable---he still was able to focus enough to time his movements, pulling up on her clit when he slid back, then dropping it so that his balls would slap up against it the next second. It was definitely having the desired effect.

"Nnng, ah, AAH!" Her knees were getting rubbery. "H-hold me close..."

His arms went around her and he hugged her from behind, tucking his head around so that he could kiss her on the corner of her mouth. The sides of their faces were pressed together as she began trembling violently, slipping around in his sweaty embrace, crying out through her climax. It wasn't the brain-melting multiple orgasms he'd given her before, but it was lovely---the warm, aching release of half a day's worth of pent-up frustration. A few seconds later he came too, letting his tense neck slump down against her.

"Applejack..." he breathed.

"You sure... know..." She squirmed a little when she felt his semen trickling down her leg. "How... howta show a gal... a good time."

And with a crash, a jar of Zap apple jam flew from the shelf.

"Gyah!"

She jerked her hips forward, jolting him loose. "What didya do that for?!"

Flim had frozen in place, staring at the smashed glass. "I didn't!"

"Yes you did!"

"No, I didnt!" he insisted.

As she flopped down to the ground, Applejack set her jaw and turned back towards him. "I know y'did, Flim!"

"Did you see my horn light up?"

"I had my back to you, stupid!"

He stomped in exasperation. "Well did you hear a crackle? Smell ozone? See my magic on the jar?"

"No, but..."

Sitting down weakly, he pushed the stray strands of hair off his forehead and snapped "Then how could I have done that?"

She had to pause to catch her breath. True, she hadn't seen his aura around the jar, but there had been something: out of the corner of her eye, she'd seen a spark. Not a green one, but a spark nonetheless. "I don't care how y'did it---I jes' know you did! Yer the only unicorn here!"

When she rolled onto her back to look at him, she was surprised to see how wide his eyes were. It looked like something amazing had just dawned on him.

"You know, sweetheart," he said, "I... don't think I am."

"Huh?"

"I don't think I am the only unicorn in this room," he finished, beaming.

"What d'you mean by---"

With impeccable timing, a tiny hoof jolted against her stomach.

Applejack's eyes shot down to where her foal had kicked her, and then, slowly, very slowly, they traced back up to meet her lover's.

"No," she whispered.

"Yes!" he said triumphantly, and bent down to hug her. It was easy to pull her body up to meet his, since she'd gone as limp as a ragdoll. "It's---she's a unicorn!"

"No! It can't be!" She yanked back and grabbed his shoulders, her face full of terror. "Flim, no! I can't---I can't do this!"

"What do---"

"I don't know how to raise a unicorn!!" she wailed, and crumpled in his arms. He quickly began to shush her, but she was already bawling.

"I d-don't know how..." she sobbed. "An' she... she's already castin' spells, I... what..."

He rocked her back and forth, slowly stroking her mane. "Ssh. It'll pass soon."

"What'll pass?!"

"The pre-natal casting. It'll pass. It's just a phase the fetus goes through when the horn is forming, that's all."

She snuffled, and leaned back so that her nose wouldn't drip on his chest. "How do you know?"

He chuckled. "My sister told me what our mother had to go through when she was pregnant with us. That's how they figured out she was going to have twins---each fetus tends to do something different, and one of us kept slamming the doors, while the other cracked glass. We never did figure out who did what." Moving his hoof to her belly, he added "This one likes throwing things around, I guess. I just didn't know it would happen this soon."

Applejack nodded numbly. She recalled how, a good two years ago, Pinkie had excitedly told her that Sugarcube Corner was "haunted". Glasses and bottles kept tipping over and spilling. At the time she'd written it off as Pinkie being Pinkie, but now it didn't seem so crazy after all. Had Mrs. Cake known this about unborn unicorns?

Then a horrible thought hit her, hard. "Flim, what if she teleports? What if she teleports right outta my body?! She ain't big enough t'live out here on her own! She'll d---"

"No," he interrupted her. "No, that won't happen." They'd been facing each other, but now he moved her so that he was cradling her body, her head resting on his shoulder. "Trust me, teleportation is a spell you have to learn how to cast, and it's so difficult a lot of adult unicorns aren't able to do it. She'll stay safe in here," he reassured her, patting her rounded stomach.

Her hoof joined his on her swell. "Really?"

"Really."

"But... I don't know how to raise a unicorn," she repeated.

"And I don't know how to raise a filly, but we'll figure it out."

She blinked the last of the tears out of her eyes, and let him wipe them off her cheeks. "'We'?"

"Yes," he said. He kissed his lover, then where his daughter was resting. "We'll figure it out together."

Blood

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WARNING: This chapter contains a graphic depiction of a panic attack.

Big MacIntosh kicked the door shut behind him, and resisted the urge to lock Flim in.

Cleaning and re-organizing the barn was a dirty, boring, drudgerous task, something that usually fell on his broad shoulders, and he was more than happy to pass it off to their guest. It would keep him occupied for the rest of the day, and make it easier to keep an eye on him. He was beginning to suspect that Flim was up to something; once he'd arrived home from the market---at least half an hour late---Big MacIntosh had lost track of him for nearly twenty minutes, and when he finally tracked him down, he was in the river again with a stupid grin on his face. That was his third bath of the day. Either he had some strange aversion to getting sweaty, or he was up to no good. Instinct told him it was the latter.

A flash of green from the barn windows drew his attention, and Mac sighed. How many times did he have to tell him before it got through his head? No magic meant no magic, not even when his back was turned. Oh well... he'd prepared for this eventuality.

He sucked his teeth in irritation as he climbed the stairs to his bedroom. As soon as he'd found out who the foal's sire was, he'd begun his preparations, which included procuring a horn ring, just in case. That little errand had been unpleasant but necessary; he'd had to endure twenty minutes of Pokey's flirting just to get a top-of-the-line model.

Oh well, he thought with a wry grin, At least he gave me a discount.

And it was indeed a good brand. It had been imbued with a spell that assured the only pony who could remove it would be the one who had put it on the unicorn in the first place. (Pokey had insisted on a demonstration). The irony of using a magically-enhanced item to prevent spellcasting wasn't lost on him, but now wasn't the time for a philosophical debate. He just needed Flim to follow the damn rules for once. He had nothing against unicorns personally, but the sight of Flim struggling to carry the heavy slop bucket had lifted his sour spirits to no end.

He's never done an honest day's work in his life, he thought as he nudged open his bedside dresser. Once I get this ring on him, he'll---

It was gone.

He stared at the empty space, blinking, as if that would make it reappear. It had been there the last time he checked, and now...

He went through my stuff?!

The headache that was curling around his brain began to pound in his forehead. Unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable. He didn't know how or when Flim had done it, but somehow that bastard had gone behind his back and rifled through his belongings!

The floor shook with his pounding hoofsteps as he made his way to the guest bedroom, grinding his molars together. Had Applejack told him about the horn ring? That was the only explanation that made sense... otherwise, how could he have known it was there?!

Maybe he didn't know it was there. Maybe he waited 'til I was asleep, and then pawed through my bedroom 'cause that's jes' the kinda pony he is. Dammit, I'm never gonna hear the end of it if he found Smarty Pants.

Last night was still bugging him. He had been right outside Flim's door! How could he have snuck by? Normally something as minor as a creaky floorboard could wake him up, but for some reason he managed to sleep through a whole night of his sister, one door down, having wild, screaming se---

He clamped that thought away as hard as he could.

He slammed the door open and went stomping into the room. Flim hadn't bothered to make the bed, and the few things he'd brought with him were scattered about, including the hat he'd neglected to put on this morning. It only took a few minutes to rip the place apart, and after nothing turned up, he slumped back to his haunches, panting.

He could be carryin' it in one a'his pockets... He wiped the back of his mouth. He's in BIG fucking trouble when I find it!

As he turned his head to leave, something caught his eye. On the bedside dresser was a collection of small pill-bottles.

Big MacIntosh picked one of them up, shaking the tiny capsules inside. As he turned the bottle over in his hooves, he glanced to the dresser, eyeing the mini-pharmacy that was stashed there. He recalled dragging an unconscious Flim out of his hotel room, and remembered how he'd had the presence of mind to shove all of his medication in his pockets before doing so. He hadn't thought much of it at the time, but...

The memory of that train ride came washing over him: Flim, on his back, his eyes rolled up in their sockets, gibbering broken pleas through frothy lips; having to shoo away the crowd of gawkers as he rubbed his hoof up and down the unicorn's chest, talking to him evenly and quietly until the storm had passed through his brain. It was like nothing he'd ever seen before, and he hoped he'd never have to see it again. If merely witnessing a panic attack was frightening, well, he couldn't begin to imagine what living with that would be like.

He put the bottle down and picked up another one. This was the one he'd asked for on the train; two of these babies had knocked him out cold for the rest of the ride. Big MacIntosh felt himself reluctantly smile when he remembered how he'd had to repeatedly shrug Flim's head off his shoulder. Applejack was right---he did drool in his sleep.

So the bottle he was holding contained the meds for his panic attacks; that must mean the others were for the bleeding disorder. Now, he was a farmer, not a doctor, but even he knew that a condition like hemophilia could be a crippling disability. Little colts were supposed to be able to run around wild and free, scraping their knees and bruising their shins and laughing it off, no harm done. They shouldn't have to be saddled with something like that.

Mac shook his head as the unwanted memories came back with a sudden, stinging pain. No colt should have to grow up knowing there was something wrong with him.

At least I could fight back when I got bullied, he thought with a sinking feeling in his gut. Flim an' Flam didn't have that option.

He passed the bottle from hoof to hoof as he ruminated. He'd always been brought up to be honest and upfront, but... if he hadn't had the physical strength to defend himself, a loving family to support him, and just enough income to fund the years of therapy, could he have ended up like the FlimFlam brothers? If push came to shove, would he have resorted to scheming and conniving just to get by?

And was that just a twinge of pity he'd felt?

A bright yellow sticker on the side of the bottle caught his eye. Whatever Flim was taking must have been pretty hardcore, considering how many warning labels came with his medication.

WARNING! May cause extreme drowsiness! one sticker read. He rolled it to the left, which revealed another warning, this time in red: DO NOT CONSUME WITH ALCOHOL.

And on the very back of the pill-jar was a smaller label that read SIDE EFFECTS INCLUDE: loss of consciousness, numbness in extremities, bitter metallic taste in the mouth.

Something clicked in his head, and the sympathy he'd felt welling up inside him suddenly melted away.

He licked his lips, and, yes, there was still a trace of that taste in his mouth.

The pieces fell together with a nasty snap, and the plastic bottle cracked into splinters under his grip. Big MacIntosh threw his head back and screamed "YOU! FUCKING! LITTLE! SHIT!!!"

Flim was halfway through organizing the farm equipment when the barn door smashed open.

"YOU!"

"You too," he answered easily without breaking his spell. "Look, I know what you're going to say. You said 'no magic', and---"

"You drugged me," Big Mac snarled.

His eyebrows raised a little, but he kept a pretty straight face. "...Did I?"

"I knew something was wrong last night! I knew it!" He was approaching slowly, and Flim nervously glanced over his shoulder. Getting around this behemoth wasn't an option, but there was a small door at the back of the barn; he couldn't teleport, but experience had made him quite adept at running away.

"That's an awfully big jump to conclusions, don't you think? After all, you did stay up the previous night tracking me down---you were probably just tired---"

"And the taste in my mouth? Can y'explain that?" Before letting him answer, he added "And don't bother with the 'stress' bullshit! I ain't fallin' fer that twice!"

A quick calculation, and Flim decided there was more distance between him and his potential cause of death than him and the door. He still had the equipment suspended in the air; he could drop it between them and make a run for it. Just in case, he braced his back legs, ready for a sprint. "Well, maybe I just wanted you to calm the fuck down! You should be thanking me---most stallions in my situation would have used a tranquilizer dart! Or a lead pipe!"

"An' some stallions in yer situation would use the drugs on my sister, too! Is that what you did? Is that why she couldn't explain why you ended up in her bed?!"

"Hey!" Flim shouted, baring his teeth. "That is way out of line, even for you!"

"Answer the question!"

"For the second fucking time, NO, I didn't rape her! Why is that so hard for you to understand?"

"You really want me t'answer that?"

He hadn't realized he'd been backing up until his rump hit a support beam. "Look, genius, if she was drugged, how could she have tied me up?"

Big MacIntosh didn't respond, but Flim could tell by the look on his face that he hadn't considered that part. It also seemed like he really didn't want to consider that part too carefully.

"You want the truth? She drugged me."

"I don't believe that fer a second."

"I can prove it. I know you own a horn ring."

That made him freeze like a slap to the face. "...What?"

"You own a horn ring," he repeated as he regained some of his confidence. "And it's probably still in Applejack's room. Go and look if you don't believe me! She slipped something into the drink she brought me. Initially I thought it was just to get back at me for, uh, you, but.... well, you do remember me saying I woke up tied to her bed?"

Mac's twisted expression assured him that, yes, unfortunately, he did remember.

"Now, I normally don't do bondage 'til at least the fifth date, but when Applejack swiped that ring from your room, I didn't have much of a choice." He paused with a half-grin. "Not that I minded. It's not like it was a cock ring."

This time he could taste bile in the back of his mouth. "Ugh!"

Flim laughed, watching him recoil and shudder with disgust. "It's about time you faced up to the facts, big guy. One, your 'baby sister' is old enough to make her own decisions, and has been for awhile, and she's not your property!"

That actually made him take a step backwards.

"Two, whether you like it or not, you have a unicorn working for you, which means I'm going to use magic. Three"---he knew he was pushing it by this point---"The fact that you even have a horn ring makes me think you like unicorns a lot more than you're letting on. Come on, don't be shy! You enjoyed that kiss, didn't you?"

"THAT DOES IT!" He began scraping the ground with a hind hoof, ready to charge. "I'm-a break that horn clean off, and you got one guess where it's gonna end up!"

He looked up at the equipment he still had hovering in the air above him, then turned back to Big MacIntosh. "Tell you what," he said with a smirk. "I think I'll stop using my magic right... about..."

It suddenly hit him what Flim was going to do, and he blurted "No, wait!!"

"...NOW!"

Laughing, Flim let his magic crackle away, and the equipment all came crashing down around him. Big Mac flinched at the sound of hundreds of bits' worth of damage, but there was nothing he could do---it all happened so fast. As shocked as he was, he was already calculating how much work Flim would have to do to pay off this stunt.

The horrified look on Mac's face just kicked his grin up a notch, and he started to cackle. He knew he'd pay for this, but it was worth it!

Of course, had he known there was a sickle right above him, he probably would have reconsidered.

Amid the clattering and banging, some sudden, icy feeling snapped him back to reality. All he felt at first was a cold slice across his side... and then the coldness began to spread outwards, until he was shivering all over.

What the...?

He looked at the stallion in the doorway, fully expecting fury---but Mac was staring slack-jawed, not in his eyes, but somewhere to his left. Confused, Flim tried to take a step forward, but had to stop when he noticed how leaden his legs felt. Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong.

Flim looked down, and he realized, with a sickening smack of disgust, that he was standing in a warm, spreading puddle.

I pissed myself?!

No... no, wait. That wasn't the colour of piss. It was a dark, brackish red.

Raising his hoof to his ribs, Flim carefully pressed at the area that had gone numb. His hoof brushed against his hide, and... it took him a few long moments to figure out what exactly was happening. Terror jolted up his spine when he realized that he wasn't touching the side of his body.

He was touching inside his body.

"Sweet Celestia," Big MacIntosh whispered.

Flim pulled his hoof away with a wet slurp, and felt a shudder go through him. He looked down. The sickle had sliced him open when it fell, and now there was a huge, wet wound in his side, pouting open like a mouth. And it was gushing blood.

He jerked his head back up. "H-Help," he mumbled.

They made eye contact, and Mac, for a split-second, looked as shocked as him. Then, it happened---something Flim was horribly familiar with, but something he could never accurately describe to anypony else: Mac's face began to warp as if it was a wet, dripping painting, and once the smearing stopped, all Flim could see was a horrid distortion of the stallion standing before him, leaving just a huge, gaping mouth where his face should be. All of reality seemed to be tilted, refracted; it took him a few seconds, but the tight pounding in his chest made him realize what was happening.

"No," his hissed through his clenched throat. "N-not now----!"

His legs buckled and he slumped to the dirt floor, muddying his knees with his own blood. Even the veins in his eyeballs were throbbing, and every alarm in his system began to fire. Saliva pooled out of his open mouth as his lungs spasmed, sucking in tiny gulps of oxygen. He moved his foreleg to wipe at his face, but that just made the blood spurt faster, ramming his heart up into his throat.

His cheek hit the dirt just as the black stars began to appear, swimming around his peripheral vision. He knew from experience he had about twenty seconds before he was blind... and, at this rate, maybe ten minutes before he bled out.

Big MacIntosh was nervously shifting his weight from one hoof to another, but snapped to attention when Flim screamed "PLEASE! HELP ME!"

He was already in motion when the unicorn's neck began twitching, banging his head against the ground. A panic attack wasn't lethal, but blood loss was, and it was coming out at an astounding rate. He had no medical training, but he remembered an old trick Granny had taught him---he grabbed a rake in his mouth, swept it around the corners of the hayloft, then let it clatter by Flim's side.

"C-c-c-cobwe-we-webs," he stammered, placing a hoof on the side of Flim's head to keep him from smashing himself into a concussion.

"Wha? What?!"

"Cobwebs," he repeated. He pulled the grey, sticky mass off the tines of the rake and, after rolling him over, pressed it into the wound. "Slows down the b-bleeding." It would also probably give him an infection, but they could deal with that later. Right now, he had to get him to a hospital, and fast. The bleeding had already slowed from a gush to a trickle, but the webs would only hold that off for so long.

With a heave, he loaded Flim onto his back. "Hang on!"

Applejack whistled as she trotted through the orchard. That little romp in the root cellar had put a spring in her step, and she'd long recovered from her crying jag. She could barely believe the new side of Flim she was seeing! He'd even asked her what her Ma's name was, assuming she intended to pass it on. It surprised her that he was okay letting her name the foal, but she hadn't settled on one yet---after all, that snide remark at dinner hadn't been serious. She knew that hearing that name could make Granny cry, and she wasn't about to saddle a foal with that.

She had decided to find wherever Flim had gotten off to so she could ask him what his mother's name was. There was no harm in asking. She knew she'd get an earful from Big MacIntosh about even considering naming her firstborn after a whore, but so long as it wasn't a cliched hooker name like Kandie or Sweet Cream, it wouldn't be so wrong, would it? Flim might be touched. Their daughter would never know her paternal grandmother, but---

A ripple of emotion went through her when she realized her foal actually would never know any of her grandparents.

Oh well. Nothing could be done about that. She'd have a great-grandmother, anyway.

Where had he gotten off to? He'd sensed she needed a moment to herself, so he'd left her in the cellar, saying he was going to have another bath so that Big Mac wouldn't smell the sex on him. That had been nearly an hour ago. She suspected her brother would get him to re-organize the barn, since he'd been putting off doing it himself for awhile now. Aside from cleaning the outhouse, it was his least favourite chore.

Then she frowned, remembering that Flim had left the broken jam jar for her to clean up. He might have a soft side, but he was still a bit of a prick sometimes.

He wants t'help raise her 'together'... but how are we gonna do that? He travels! she mused to herself as she crested the hill. Maybe he can come on the weekends. But that'll be hard on everypony. Apple Bloom's talked about how much Scootaloo hates having to go from her Mom's to her Meema's...

She really needed to talk to him about this.

As she came into view of the barn, her legs froze in place. That was odd... the door was wide open. It wasn't the right time of day for the cows to be inside, but even so, they had a rule about keeping it closed. Applejack approached it slowly. She wasn't sure if she believed in feminine intuition, but something was telling her this wasn't right.

She was a few feet from the door when she noticed a trail of hoofprints leading outside. Red hoofprints. Very few things in nature would leave a colour like that, and she knew they didn't keep any ketchup in the barn! That could only mean one thing...

"Oh, Celestia," she whispered as she made her way inside. What had happened here? It looked like a war zone! Bales of hay had been scattered, and the equipment was all over the place, smashed and dented as if dropped by a tornado. In the middle of it all was a distressingly-huge pool of blood.

Years ago, in an incident Ponyville would rather forget, a drunk had injured himself while stumbling through a window on the outskirts of town; they'd found his body the next morning in a puddle of blood. He had exsanguinated, having lacerated an artery shortly before passing out. Applejack remembered the photo in the newspaper, and how enormous the bloodstain was---the one on the floor looked to be a third that size, so it wasn't lethal... but it couldn't have been good. Lying at its edge was a bloodied sickle, but she couldn't tell if it had been stained from proximity, or from being used as a weapon.

She glanced back at the hoofprints. Their size meant they had to be her brother's, and the distance between them showed he'd taken off at a gallop. This didn't make sense---Mac knew his way around the more dangerous equipment better than anypony. He would have to be drunk as a lord to injure himself with a sickle, and it was only one in the afternoon. Now, he wasn't above occasionally staggering home in the wee hours of the morning, usually singing at the top of his lungs, but it was completely unlike him to get loaded during the day, and he certainly wouldn't trash the barn.

Then her ears flattened. Oh no. What if he'd finally lost his temper and gone at Flim with the sickle? A fight would explain the mess. Then again... there was only one set of bloodied hoofprints. Even if Flim had fallen, he would have had to leave at least a few tracks, right? She knew he was good at running and dodging, and he'd have magic on his side to help in a fight, but she still didn't feel too reassured.

"Holy cow! What happened in here?!"

She glanced up to see Apple Bloom at the doorway, her jaw hanging open. As quickly as she could, Applejack clapped her hoof over her sister's eyes. "Don't look!"

"Aw, c'mon, Applejack! I seen blood before!"

"Go get Granny," she said as she shooed her outside. "Tell her I'm goin' to the hospital."

"The hospital? Why? Is somethin' wrong with the baby?"

"No, the baby's fine. I-I think Big Mac hurt himself."

"Wait, that's his blood?" She tried to get another peek over Applejack's shoulder. "I thought that was from one of the cows."

Oh, no. Not the livestock-mutilation paranoia again. "I don't care what Rainbow Dash told ya, Apple Bloom, but the chupacabra ain't real."

Her sister shot her that look she was growing to hate. "The chupacabra eats goats. That's what his name means, Applejack."

"I don't have time fer this!" she shouted. "Yer brother could be really hurt! Now, do as I say and go---"

She heard him before she saw him. Big Mac's breathing was so loud and ragged it covered the sound of his shuffling hoofbeat, and when he got close enough for her to get a better look at him, she realized why: his sides were frothy with sweat, as if he'd come back from running a marathon.

Apple Bloom was already charging toward him. "Big Mac! Big Mac! What happened? We saw the blood!"

Without making eye contact with her, he held up a hoof, and she skidded to a halt. They knew what that gesture meant---he couldn't quite speak yet. When he sat down to catch his breath, Applejack sent her sister off to fetch a glass of water and plunked herself down next to him.

"Are y'okay?"

He shook his head.

Avoiding the sweat, she began running a hoof over his side. He didn't appear to be injured. She moved her hoof to his belly, checking to see if there was a wound she hadn't seen when he was standing. "Hurt at all?"

"Nope."

His bangs were so drenched they were sticking to his forehead, and she gently brushed them back. He still hadn't looked at her, opting instead to stare wide-eyed at the ground. "You look like you seen a ghost!"

"Close."

Before she could press on, Apple Bloom came running back with, thoughtfully, a whole pitcher of lemonade, some of which had spilled into her mane. Mac snatched it up and downed it in two gulps.

"Is that blood?" she asked, looking at Applejack's hoof.

She had been absent-mindedly rubbing his shoulder, and paying more attention to his face than to where they were touching. When she saw what Apple Bloom had noticed, she nearly threw up; his coat colour had disguised it, but her orange hoof was now streaked with red. "Mac, yer... covered in blood!"

"Eeyup."

"Oh my gosh! Are ya hurt?" Apple Bloom darted around to his front, trying to catch his eye. "What happened? Why didntcha stay at the hospital?!"

"Apple Bloom, that's too many questions at once. Let him answer the first one."

He finally looked up. "It ain't mine."

He didn't bother to elaborate.

The silence was suddenly broken by Applejack's ear-shattering screech as she threw herself on him. Even though Apple Bloom frantically tried to pry her off, she just kept pummeling him with her balled-up hooves.

"You did it, you bastard!" she screamed. "You finally did it! You killed him, didntcha? YOU FUCKING KILLED HIM!!"

Big MacIntosh had seen the attack coming, and simply braced his shoulder against her onslaught. "Nope," he answered.

"Yes you did! You, you killed him, you killed him, you... you..."

Her voice cracked into sobs, and she fell back onto her haunches, weeping. Apple Bloom was slowly backing away on shaky legs; it's not like she'd never heard her sister cuss before, but this kind of outburst was unsettling. She'd had the sense to take the pitcher with her, lest it end up smashed over his head.

Applejack turned her teary eyes up to meet his. "Why, Mac? Why?"

"I didn't kill him," he said with a sigh. "Y'ain't gonna believe this, but I saved his damned life."

Intensive Care

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"Pacin' around ain't gonna help."

"I don't care!" she said, making her fortieth trip around the waiting room. "I can't sit still."

Big MacIntosh's eyes followed her back-and-forth trotting, but the rest of him stayed still. "Yer jes' gonna make yerself more nervous."

"Well what am I s'posedta do? Read one a'these magazines?" She snatched one up and sarcastically read the cover. "'Breaking news: Nightmare Moon defeated!' Well, that's jes' swell! I sure am glad I learned that today!"

"Applejack," he said firmly, "Sit down."

"Don't tell me what to do!" she shouted, sending the magazine fluttering to the floor.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a few of the other patients glancing over at her with irritation. She either didn't notice, or didn't care. With a weary sigh, he turned back to her and rested his chin on his hoof. "C'mon, now. Think a'the baby."

She paused, one hindleg still in the air. He had a point. Her throat had been hot and stinging with acid for half an hour now, and the foal was squirming around in discomfort. Granny had told her once that the fetus felt everything the mother went through, and she wouldn't want to inflict this kind of stress on anypony.

Applejack slowly lowered her hoof and turned around, but not quite enough to look him in the eye. "I-I'm sorry, big brother," she finally said, her voice softening. "I'm jes' worried."

"He ain't dead, y'know."

She nervously tugged at her ponytail. It was hard not letting on just how concerned she was. All Mac had told her on the hurried ride to the hospital was the bare bones of the story, and she had no idea what condition Flim could be in. "He came close, though, right?"

"Eeyup."

He startled a little when she sat down next to him, brushing her foreleg against his. When he looked up from his lap, Applejack was staring at him with wide, wet eyes.

"I'm so sorry I thought you killed him," she whispered. "I shouldn't've assumed---I mean..."

After she trailed off, they stared at each other for a moment; then Mac put his hoof over hers, and cracked a small smile. "Well... it ain't like I haven't given you reason t'worry," he said with a touch of sheepishness.

"Y'know, under all this grumpiness, you are a good pony. Thanks fer savin' him." She leaned over to nuzzle his cheek. "I'll see to it he thanks ya, too."

"Damn straight."

But, by his own admission, he had given her reason to doubt his motives. "Tell me exactly what went down in that barn, Big Mac."

A flicker of something went across his features. "I told you---he had the equipment floatin' in the air, and dropped it all t'spite us. Me."

"Find that hard to believe."

"Y'find it hard to believe he'd wanna spite me?"

Applejack adjusted herself so she could rest her fetlocks against the tight skin of her belly. "I find it hard to believe he'd cause hundreds a'bits a'damage jes' outta spite... 'specially considerin' he'd haveta pay it off."

She could feel him stiffening beside her. "It's 'cause he's a jackass, AJ."

"You shouldn't say that," she mumbled, eyeing the donkey sitting a few chairs down from them. Hesitantly, and after a few breaths, she added "He ain't that bad."

"Sure he is."

"Bad enough t'ruin a buncha farm equipment fer no reason?"

His face was turned away, but she could see that his ears were pinned back. "Eeyup."

"Are ya sure?" she pressed on. "Are ya sure you had nothin' t'do with it?"

Just like that, his head jerked back around, a deep, dark scowl on his face. "Listen, AJ---he hates me, an' he's usin' you. When are ya gonna get it? He's an asshole!"

There was nearly a full minute of silence, and Applejack's throat constricted a few times as she swallowed. Her brother's eyes were fierce, but there was something underneath that---something softer. Something she thought she recognized. It was just enough to give her the courage to tread on dangerous ground. As she slowly gathered his hooves in hers, she said in a low voice "Lemme tell ya somethin', Mac. Last night, when the two of us were---"

His expression rippled with revulsion. "I don't wanna know."

"Listen'a me!" This time she grabbed his cheeks and forcefully turned him around to look at her. They were both blushing. Part of her couldn't believe she was saying this, but the words spilled out as if on their own: "When we were, uh, makin' love, I... I started---"

"Applejack!"

"I started cryin', an'... an' he stopped." She squeezed his hooves. "He stopped, Mac."

After a few strained moments, he answered "...So?"

Her eyes had drifted downwards, not at her belly, but somewhere off to the side. "So... a lotta stallions would jes' keep goin', even if I was cryin'."

The seat creaked as he shifted around. "Huh?"

Her eyes glazed a little, and she felt that stiffness in her heart that always clamped down when she had to talk about this. "I-I don't know if y'know this, Mac, but... some stallions, they'd jes' keep on goin' even if yer cryin'. Even if you try an' push 'em off. Even if y'beg 'em to stop."

When he spoke, it was barely audible. "Wh... what?"

Their eyes met again, and she met his shocked look with a steely one. "Flim ain't like that. He wouldn't hurt me like that."

It looked like he was struggling to figure out what to say, his face all tight with pain.

"I ain't sayin' he's changed, Mac," she said. "I'm jes' sayin'... maybe he wasn't so bad to begin with."

Before he could respond, the door creaked open, and whatever he'd been meaning to say shriveled up in his throat. As soon as the nurse poked her head around the door, Applejack shot to her hooves. "Is he okay?!"

"You mean Flim Skim?"

Goosebumps shivered up along her hide. That was the first time she'd heard his full name. She hadn't even been sure he had one. "Uh. Yeah." She tilted her head to her right. "My brother here brought him in."

The nurse's eyes darted from Big MacIntosh's face down to Applejack's belly. "And you are his, um... friend?"

For some reason, that made her flush. "You could say that. How's he doin?"

"It... was touch and go," the nurse said with a careful gentleness. "He came close to flat-lining a couple of times, but we managed to stabilize him."

"What does that mean?"

"It means his vitals have returned to normal. The bleeding's stopped, and the transfusion seems to be taking." She hesitated. "It took ten stitches. The injury was fairly deep---"

"Can I see him?"

That made her pause, and she checked her clipboard. "Well... he is stable, but---"

"Please," she said, raising a hoof to her heart. "I need to see him."

"We can only allow family members to---"

"He's family!" she blurted.

She cleared her throat, if only to break the silence. Trying to ignore her brother's eyes boring into her, Applejack gulped, took a deep breath, and then put a hoof on her abdomen. "He's family," she repeated. "He's the father a'my foal. He's..." Again, she cleared her throat, trying not to let her muzzle scrunch up. "He's my fiance."

They stared at each other for a few moments, and then the nurse lowered her eyes. They'd both heard Big MacIntosh's gasp. "Very well," she said, and stepped aside to allow Applejack through the door.

The sight made her eyes sting with tears.

Flim was unconscious. He was breathing very slowly, his nostrils plugged with an oxygen tube. An I.V. ran from the stand into the puncture in his left elbow, and that made her stomach pang---she remembered him saying he was left-hooved. They should have put the needle in his right arm. As she approached him, the sterile scent of the waiting room was replaced by the medicinal smell of disinfectant, with a tinge of blood underneath it.

She made her way to his side. "Flim?"

It was subtle, but she did see his ear twitch. It wasn't enough to rouse him, though. Applejack gently pulled back the blanket, and then lifted his hospital gown. She gasped. His chest was dotted with heart-rate monitors, which must have been responsible for the even mechanical beeping, but that wasn't the worst part---a thick layer of gauze was packed over his side with medical tape, the top stained a rusty brown.

"Oh, sugarcube," she whispered as she lowered his robe, and ran the tip of her hoof through his mane.

"Visiting hours are over at five," the nurse said from behind her. Applejack didn't bother to look up. "Please take your time." When that didn't get a response, she added "You know, he's been coming in and out of consciousness."

His eyelids fluttered, but they didn't open.

"Oh yeah?"

In the periphery of her vision, she could sense the nurse nodding, but couldn't quite see her expression. "He seems disoriented. He keeps asking what time it is. Then he asks for his brother."

She kissed his temple. "I see."

"He's been asking about you, too."

Well, that did the trick. Her head snapped around, eyes all wide. "What?! Really?"

"Mm-hm," the nurse said on her way out, with a little smile playing around the corners of her mouth. "I didn't know how to answer when he asked me how his 'love' was doing."

Slowly, Applejack turned back to him, listening as the door clicked shut. Sweat was pooling on his forehead, so she ripped a tissue from the box on his bedside table and carefully wiped it away.

Flim grunted and jerked his head to the side, so Applejack kissed him again. "Ssh," she breathed as she tenderly pushed his head back onto the pillow. "It'll be okay."

An hour went by, and after awhile she began to hum little lullabies. She couldn't be sure, but it seemed that the beeping of the machines eased into the rhythm of her singing. To her surprise, Big MacIntosh came in and offered her a magazine, but she refused. After he left, she excused herself to the bathroom, and came back with a glass of water. The next forty-five minutes stretched on, and she sipped from the paper cup, listening to his quiet breathing. Every now and then she'd examine him, making sure he was still stable; even though there was a huge bruise forming around where they'd punctured the crook of his elbow, he seemed to be okay. The bag of blood on the I.V. stand slowly emptied, drop by drop.

A memory suddenly hit her:

"If it weren't for the groomsmen pulling him off of me, I probably would have died. As it was, I was in the hospital for two months. Seven transfusions."

Emotion pinched at her throat. She had no idea what it was like to be a twin, of course, but the thought of being wounded and alone, shunned by one's own brother, was a more painful prospect than she cared to consider. And even now, he'd been asking for Flam, and he was still on his own.

Applejack put her forehead against his chest, and let her tears flow.

"I'm sorry, sugarcube," she said as she quietly wept. "I'm so sorry this happened to you."

She hiccuped when suddenly she felt something from inside her she'd never felt before: four tiny nubs sliding up and down the sides of her womb, clumsy yet coordinated, as if the foal was trying to walk for the first time. She let out a breathy squeak, still cradling Flim's hoof in her own; she remembered the books Twilight had shown her all those months ago, and those sketches of the developing embryo, the gelatinous-looking little thing with growing bulbs where its various parts would eventually be. If memory served, she had just left the dangerous first trimester, which meant that the risk of miscarriage had dropped significantly. It also meant her baby's brain was pulling together, meaning the little one was learning how to feel, how to move her new limbs... possibly how to dream.

Looking back to the bed, a wide smile spread her tear-stained cheeks. She couldn't help but wonder what the baby would look like. Short and stocky like her, or long and lanky like Flim? Would she be strong like an Earth pony, or skilled like a unicorn, or a combination of both?

"Will she have green eyes?" she murmured, stroking a curl of hair off her suitor's forehead.

She bent down to hug his limp body, and placed another kiss on his cheek. Just as she was about to rise to refill her cup, he jerked in her embrace, and a hoof clattered down on her shoulder.

"What th---Flim?"

His eyes opened, and for a moment, she couldn't breathe.

"A... appl...?"

The cup fell to the floor, and her hooves flew up to his, grasping them together so hard he winced. "Flim?!"

"Applejack?"

"Yeah!" She brushed his mane back, and offered him a weak smile. "Yeah, Flim. It's me. I'm here."

He blearily licked his lips. "Am... I.. dead?"

Applejack laughed and shook her head. "You will be if you ever scare me like that again."

"Wh..." After shifting around a bit, Flim managed to nudge his gown up to his armpit. He blinked, chewing on the side of his lip, and moved to poke at the bandages. Applejack was quick to swat his hoof away.

"Don't touch that!"

"What happened?"

"You hurt yerself," she said as she tucked his gown back around his waist. "Big Mac told me a bit, but I suspect you have yer own version a'what went down."

"Mmph." He pulled the oxygen tube from his muzzle and rubbed his uninjured eye.

"Anything you wanna tell me, hm?"

"Right now I can barely r'member my own name," he slurred. He kept squeezing his eyes shut in a vain effort to get them refocused. "I don't know what they've got me on, but damned if I don't wanna sell it on the street corner."

"Why? So you c'n pay us back fer all the damage you caused?"

"Why, yes, Applejack, I feel just fine. Thanks for asking."

He'd said it with a smirk, but she could tell he was a little miffed. "Aw, shucks. I'm sorry," she said, taking her hat off. "I'll save the naggin' fer later. How are ya feelin', anyway? Does it still hurt?"

He grimaced as he sat up. "Like your sister tried to get her cutie mark in surgery. With a rusty needle. And barbed wire. Ouh..." He slumped back to the pillow, loose as a wet noodle. "I haven't felt this dizzy since the foal was conceived."

"The nurse said you got ten stitches. That's gonna..." She was about to say scar, but quickly changed her mind. "...leave a mark."

"The vest will cover it." He peeked down at the dressing through the neck of his gown, flinching when he saw the blood-soaked gauze. "Well, that's what I get for being stupid."

"Oh yeah? How stupid were ya?"

He idly scratched behind his ears, which had begun to turn pink. "Um. Well. It started with arguing with your brother---"

"Uh-huh." That musta been some argument. "He said you let all the equipment drop to the ground, but I didn't think you'd be that..."

"Idiotic?" he offered.

"...Short-sighted," she finished.

He coughed out a laugh. "That's very charitable of you, Applejack. I hate to tell you this, but it turns out I am that idiotic." Gingerly, he lowered his foreleg back to his side, careful not to disturb the wound. "I can't believe I actually did that."

"I can." Resting her elbow against the side of his mattress, she grinned and said "Of all the dumb things you've done in yer life, where does that one rank?"

"Just under getting you pregnant, I suppose." He woozily glanced at her belly. Was she getting bigger every day, or was that just the drugs? "Er, sweetheart, could you get me a glass of water?"

Applejack eased herself out of the stiff seat. "You do know yer gonna haveta pay fer what you broke, right?"

"Do I need to remind you I've already done a good deal of unpaid labour?"

"In exchange fer room and board!" she called over her shoulder. Once the bathroom door was closed, she pursed her lips in a smile and added under her breath "An' you enjoyed some services most've our guests don't get."

She helped herself to a drink first, and then refilled the cup. She was about to leave when her reflection caught her attention, and she paused for a bit, just staring back at herself. Her freckles were dotting everywhere, even on her ears, and she was so flushed her whole face looked like a ripe fruit. There was even a fine layer of gold fluff around her hairline that she hadn't noticed before. She'd known pregnancy had some transformative effects, but she'd had no idea it could change the face she'd found so familiar.

"Unwed an' pregnant by a grifter," she muttered. "Some Element a' Harmony you are."

There's an obvious solution to one of those problems.

"Not gonna marry him," she said aloud, surprising herself at how cross she sounded.

She was about to push her way out the door, but when it opened a crack, she could hear Flim saying something.

"....not easy for me to do."

"Eeyup."

Applejack's ears pricked up, and she peeked out around the frame. Big MacIntosh was standing by the bedside---He'd waited this whole time?---and Flim was pushing his hooves back and forth, blushing as hard as he could so soon after such a significant blood loss.

"Well, anyway..." He was looking everywhere but at her brother. "As you've probably gathered, having an attack in front of somepony is, well, humiliating to say the least."

"Eeyup."

Her lower lip worked itself between her teeth. He'd had a panic attack back there in the barn? No wonder he looked so exhausted.

And I wasn't there to help...

"So... thank you," he said as he finally met Big Mac's eyes. "Not only for saving my life, but for, er, granting me the dignity when I needed it. Again."

He just nodded solemnly.

Leaning back on his pillow, Flim let out his breath and rubbed a hoof through his mane. "I was telling Applejack earlier that... well... most of this is my fault."

He paused, waiting for an 'eeyup'; when it didn't come, he went on:

"Now, you've been no saint yourself, but given the circumstances, I suppose I can sort of understand where you're coming from." He shot a look at his I.V. "This may be the painkillers talking, but I... I'd like to apologize."

She had to put a hoof over her mouth to keep from making a sound. Her brother looked just as surprised as she was.

"Not for the farm equipment, mind you---I wouldn't have done that had you not threatened to break my horn off. But I am sorry for my behaviour."

"You are?"

"Yes. Granny had every right to deck me---I, I can't believe I actually insulted her that badly. And while I can't say it was fun being on the receiving end of a urine shower, I probably had that coming, too." He looked away, out the window. "This is why we move around so much," he said in a quieter voice. "Neither of us know how to interact with decent ponies for longer than a few minutes."

Applejack noiselessly made her way through the door. Neither had noticed her yet.

Big Mac was starting to look uncomfortable. "You... uh..."

"Don't get me wrong," he continued. "I'm not sorry for sleeping with Applejack. I know you'd like to think she's still as pure as the fallen snow---Celestia knows I'd rather gouge my eyes out than imagine my brother having sex---but you should have known what would happen when you bring the two of us together. That said," he quickly added before Mac could retort, "I am sorry about how I've handled the whole situation." His serious expression changed to a wry smile. "And I'm sorry for kissing you, too."

"You kissed him?"

Big MacIntosh looked up, startled, and Flim almost jumped out of the bed.

"How long were you listening?!"

"A few minutes." After placing the cup on his bedside table, she gave Flim a peck on the cheek and said "It was real big a'you to apologize." Then turning to her brother, she said "An' it was kind a'you t'stick around."

Right now it looked like he wanted to be anywhere else. "Uh... eeyup."

She met Flim's gaze, but he instantly broke the eye contact. "So... why'd you kiss him?"

"Oh, you know," he said, waving his hoof, "Just to throw him off his game. And it worked, too---he nearly pissed himself."

That would make sense, but it didn't account for how much they were both blushing. "Uh... huh," she said uneasily. There was definitely something lingering in the air that she didn't like.

Big Mac broke the tension. "We better get goin', AJ."

She waited until Flim had drained the cup, and then leaned over the bed, her belly brushing the sheets, and gave him a kiss on the lips, just open-mouthed enough to flick her tongue-tip against his. When she pulled back, she patted him on the shoulder and said "You rest up now, y'hear?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"I'll come visit you again tomorrow. Sound good?"

He pulled her into a hug. "I can't wait."

Big Mac held the door open for her, just like he'd been raised to do, and trailed into the hallway after her. She couldn't be sure, but it seemed like, despite his longer stride, he was deliberately keeping a few paces behind her. Eventually she slowed down enough to walk by his side.

"So he jes' did it 'out of spite', huh?" she said teasingly, not bothering to look at him. "It had nothin' t'do with you sayin' you were gonna break his horn off?"

"I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"You should be! That's a real mean thing to threaten somepony with!"

Although he was still walking normally, his neck seemed to sag a little, as if he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. "Not jes' that, AJ. I'm sorry. F'r everything."

She wanted to grin, but the sadness on his face changed her mind. "What does that mean?"

"It means..." His head lifted as he took a breath so deep it puffed his barrel out, and then released it slowly. "It means I... I'm sorry fer what yer goin' through. I'm sorry I brought Flim back here. I'm sorry he got hurt. I'm sorry... I'm... I'm sorry."

She was about to ask if that meant he'd changed his mind, but he wasn't done yet.

"I didn't know how much he meant to ya, AJ. I... didn't know how awkward a position I'd be puttin' y'all in." With a few quick steps he was right in front of her, face-to-face. "An' I'm sorry I wasn't there t'protect ya when you needed me."

"Mac, y'don't need to protect me from Flim."

"That wasn't what I meant." He sat down right in the middle of the hallway, and his eyelids drooped shut. "All my life, I... I tried t'protect you. To watch over you, 'cause Pa wasn't there t'do it. An'... what you told me earlier, I... " He put a hoof over his face. "I failed you, Applejack. I failed you so bad."

An orderly was standing behind him, coughing and clearing her throat, so Applejack gently nudged her brother to the side to let her pass. When he lowered his hoof from his face, she was shocked to see his eyes were rimmed with wetness.

"Big MacIntosh..." She leaned in so her belly was pressing against his, and tucked her chin on his shoulder. "Y'can't save me from the world. Nopony can."

They stayed like that for a moment before he raised a foreleg and circled it around her smaller shoulders.

"An' I ain't made outta glass. I don't break---I jes' get stronger. You didn't fail m---"

He jolted backward out of the hug so hard the back of his yoke clattered on the wall.

"What?!"

"You..." His mouth agape, he pointed at her midsection. "It... moved! It kicked me!"

Applejack burst out laughing. She hadn't seen him that stupefied in ages. "Aw, Mac! She's been doin' that fer awhile now."

His eyes grew wider. "'She'?"

"Yeah." She patted the rounded top, which seemed to make the foal settle down. "Zecora told me."

He blinked, and a tear streaked down his cheek. His earlier sadness seemed to be gone. "Is... she sure?"

Applejack glanced to her side. They were at the end of the I.C.U., near where it joined another hallway. A sign hung on the wall, indicating the maternity ward was to the left, and the ultrasound department to the right. "Well... there is one way we can find out."

Compromising Position [clop]

View Online

WARNING: This chapter contains an... unusual fetish. Read at your own risk!

Misty's eyelids felt like they were glued together, and it took her a few attempts before she managed to pry them open. The late afternoon sun was drifting into the room through the thin slat under the drawn blinds, glinting off the numerous empty bottles.

She grunted as she lifted her head from the pillow and checked the clock. A little after five p.m. Waking up with a hangover before happy hour even starts? Good job, shithead. Arching her back until it let out a few pops, she began to muse whether or not she was in any shape to get some hair of the dog at the hotel bar. Maybe Soarin' would come with her.

She was in his bed, but there was no reason to worry; as blurry as her memories were, she dimly recalled cuddling up with him and falling asleep---or passing out---as he was babbling drunkenly in between a few rather sloppy attempts at mane-grooming. Passing a hoof over her head, she cracked a grin when she felt her spit-stiffened spikes. A year ago, Soarin' had been voted the Wonderbolts' Most Eligible Bachelor; how many mares would kill to be in her position right now, only to have no idea...?

"You awake?" she croaked, flicking her tail behind her. When that got no response, she rolled over to an empty bed.

"Huh?" She looked around the room, but the few shed feathers on the mattress beside her were the only trace of him. Oh well. He'd be back.

He'd been kind enough to leave a glass of water on the bedside table, but as she lifted it, she noticed a piece of paper clinging to the condensation on the bottom of the cup. She shook it free, and saw that it had her name scrawled on top; below it were a few other pages, all covered in scribbles. It seemed that Soarin' had something to get off his mind before he left.

The first page was a barely-legible version of his earlier babbling, basically telling her over and over, in increasingly sappy variations, how good a friend she was. It was so shit-faced stupid it was touching. It wasn't until she got halfway down the second page that she had to stop, blink, and go back over it to make sure she'd read it right.

A cold feeling settled in her gut when she realized she had, and the smile drained off her face.

"Oh no," she whispered as she scanned the third page. "No, he... he couldn't!"

Just when she thought it couldn't get worse, it couldn't possibly get worse, the last page ended with ...And to think it was all because of you and your great idea!!! Love ya Misty okay bye

"FUCK IT, Soarin'!" she screamed as she threw the letter down, "I was drunk! You were drunk! You weren't really supposed to take my advice! Ooh..."

The slamming pain in her skull made her slump back to the bed, panting quietly. This was bad. I have no idea when he got up----or if he even fell asleep! He could be there by now! She clutched the sides of her head. I don't even know where 'there' is! Spitfire's gonna serve me my own ass on a silver platter!

Oh well, she thought as she miserably crawled back under the covers. Wouldn't be the first time.

Applejack was beaming as she trotted into his room. "How's our li'l invalid this mornin'?"

"Oh, fan-fucking-tastic."

"What'sa matter?" she asked as she took her seat beside him. "You look crankier'n a slug in a salt mine."

"I just had to endure a humiliating spongebath from some nurse who was old enough to make Granny look like a yearling, if you can believe that. And she kept telling me how I reminded her of her third husband, right when she was washing my..." He trailed off when he saw her grin. "You look like you've had a better morning than me."

"I got a surprise fer ya, an' I think yer gonna like it."

"Oh really? Is it a negative paternity test?"

He immediately flinched, throwing his hooves up to protect his horn, but Applejack didn't make a move to swat at him. She just laughed and leaned against the bed. "Actually, smartass, I got myself an ultrasound appointment."

It seemed to take a few beats before that registered, and when it did, his eyes slowly widened. "Does that mean you're actually... taking my advice?"

"Don't get used to it."

Brushing his hoof against her elbow, he said "When is it?"

"In about fifteen minutes."

"Fifteen---?! They got you in so soon?"

Applejack bit her lip. "Uh, yeah. They had a cancellation, so they managed to squeeze me in." She glanced away. "The nurse gave me quite the scoldin' fer not comin' in sooner." Before he could say 'I told you so', she added "Think y'can make it?"

At that, his face fell, and Flim flopped back onto the bed. "No," he said with a sigh. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, but..."

She tried to keep her face from pinching up. "But what? Yer busy social calendar's keepin' ya?!"

"The doctor came in after you left yesterday. She said I actually lacerated a bit of my muscle tissue."

"Oh," she said quietly. That certainly explained the stiff way he was moving.

"I'm sorry," he said, looking as genuine as she'd ever seen him, "But all the walking I'm supposed to do is to the bathroom and back. The more I move, the higher the likelihood of ripping something."

They sat in silence, and Applejack didn't quite meet his eyes. She could tell, however, that his were focused on her.

"I really am sorry," he said again, gesturing across the small room to the washroom. "Even walking that short trip is agonizing. I'm not supposed to do anything more strenuous than that."

"Well... I s'pose you found a clever way a'gettin' outta farm work," she said with a slow smile.

He returned it. "I've always said I'd rather die than do an honest day's work."

She began tapping her hooves together. "No vigorous activity, huh?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

"So... no mountin', an' no thrustin'." She leaned a little closer. "I guess you know what that means."

"We---"

She met his disappointed look with a kiss. "It means we gotta stick to oral fer awhile."

When she pulled back, he looked stunned. Then his face broke apart in a grin. "Applejack, you are incredible."

"Oh yeah?" she said as she slipped the bedcurtains closed with her tail. "How incredible? Tell me."

"Amazing. Unbelievable." Flim groaned and craned his head to the side as she nipped at his jawline. "Mind-blowing. You---" The thin mattress creaked, and his eyes darted down to her hooves as she began to climb onto the bed. "Wait---! What?! Do you mean you're---?!"

"Uh-huh."

The blinds were drawn around his bed, but still he glanced around furtively. "Here?!"

"Uh-huh," she said again, and then sidled up to him, careful not to disturb his injuries. Once her face was right next to his, she purred "It's a long weekend, y'know. That means there's only a skeleton staff out there."

"And---"

"An' the door's closed," she said as she nudged the sheets, slowly, inch by inch, first down his barrel, then his belly. Even without looking, she could tell from the faint rustling of fabric that her actions were having an effect below. "The nurses do rounds once an hour on holidays, y'know. Not every twenty minutes like they usuall---"

Their lips met, and Applejack's voice cut off in a squeak as his tongue probed forward. She took a deep whiff. He smelled different---it must be the soap from his earlier bath. Imagining him lying in the tub, vulnerable and mortified, seemed to make her hindlegs quiver. Still sucking on his tongue, she traced the edges of her teeth along his tastebuds as he slid back.

"Have I ever told you that you're a remarkable little filly?" he said, his voice all raspy.

"Not nearly enough," she replied as she moved to straddle the tent in his sheets.

"Well, let me begin." He hitched his hips up so that his erection brushed against her belly, and slid his tongue up to her ear. "Not only do you have the most remarkable set of gams I've ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes on, but you---"

"Guh!"

She was still hovering atop him, but one of her hindlegs had twitched up, and her muzzle was scrunched into a twisted grimace.

"Applejack?" he said, cautiously. "Are you okay?"

"N-no," she stammered. She hadn't lowered her leg, and her eyes looked almost frozen. "I.... I... Flim, I-I leaked!"

"You what?"

She tried putting her hoof back down, but just as it came an inch above the mattress, she jerked it back up again. Her face was redder than he'd ever seen it before. "I, uh, oh shit---I leaked!"

He glanced down, and to his surprise, there was a small damp spot on the bedspread between her hooves.

"Er... well..." He chewed on his lip, trying to figure out exactly what to say. "That's... normal. A lot of pregnant mares suffer from incontinence---"

"I ain't incontinent, dammit!"

"You don't need to be embarrassed, sweetheart," he said as gently as he could, and placed his hooves on her shoulders. "We'll just get you some nice billowy skirts, and nopony will have to see you wearing, er, padded undergarm---"

"Fer fuck's sake, I didn't PEE!"

Before he could say anything else, she'd whipped herself around on the bed, and her rump was right up in his face. Yes, sure enough, her pussy seemed to be as tight as it ever was, but...

"Look! I didn't pee," she repeated. "My teats... I... I think I'm..."

It took him a few seconds to realize what was happening. When he did, Flim felt his jaw slack open, a shiver trembling through his body. Her small breasts, the ones he'd so loved to tease with his mouth, had puffed up, and the left one had a pearly bead forming on the tip.

"I think I'm lactating," she whispered.

They just stayed like that for a stunned moment, her tail nervously swishing back and forth across his head.

"Does it hurt?" he finally said.

"N-no," she sputtered as she squirmed around, "But they're....kinda.... they been uncomfortable since I got up this mornin'. I had no idea it'd mean---"

She let out a shriek when his lips wrapped around her teat, but it quickly turned into a moan.

"Flim! What th'fuck! Are ya crazy?!"

Her legs shook as Flim tenderly sucked, pulling her nipple into his mouth. Her voice slid from a gasp into a whimper when she first felt it---it began as a tingle, and then a buzzing as her teat turned warm under his ministrations. Before she could pull away, a weird, uncanny feeling of relief swept through her.

"Ooh..."

She could hear his throat clasping, and a shudder went up her spine when she realized he was... Holy shit! He was actually suckling on her! He was nursing!

This is insane. HE'S insane! she thought, unable to do anything but stare straight ahead, listening to his swallowing. And... I must be crazy, too, 'cause I'm pretty sure I'm winking!

"Mmm. Mmm. Mm-hmm." Flim gulped down what he could; her breasts hadn't completely filled yet, and what was pouring down his throat was thinner than her milk would eventually be, but it was so incredibly sweet. He rolled it around on his tongue as he stroked her cutie marks with his hooves. Her nipple seemed to tremble every time he sucked it down, and after letting it go with a 'pop', he moved to the other.

This one hadn't quite develped as much as the other one, and what he managed to squeeze out of it was only a mouthful of sugary water. He nipped at her, pulling her into his throat.

She yanked herself away, and turned around on his mattress, her whole body shaking.

"F-Flim!"

"Mmph." He licked his lips, then grinned up at her. "Sweetheart, you're delicious." Before she could scold him, or say anything for that matter, he lifted his head and kissed her open mouth. "See?"

Oh, Celestia. She could still taste it on his lips. "You are crazy!"

"You love it."

"Bat-shit, stark ravin' crazy!"

He folded his arms behind his head and smirked up at her. "What? You were leaking, and now you're not. Problem solved."

Her face burning, she awkwardly switched her weight from one hoof to another. "Yeah, well, now we got another problem."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Very gingerly, she stepped over his body, turning so they were flank-to-face. This time her tail was flagging, showing off her glistening, winking clit. "I'm drippin' again."

His laughter washed his hot breath across her hindquarters, and she spread her legs wider. "I knew you'd like that, you naughty little girl."

"Who're you callin' 'naughty', you pervert?" When she felt the first gentle brush of lips against her thigh, Applejack snorted and stomped her hoof. "Nope! No time fer teasin'!"

"Teasing? You mean like this?" He flipped his tongue up, catching against the side of her lips, and deliberately missed her pearl on the way back down.

"Get t'work! I only got a couple a'minutes left!"

He gave her labia a long, slow kiss, and then bit down on her buttock.

"Flim, I'm warnin' ya---!"

"Mmph." Taking her tail in his teeth, he began tugging it to and fro, occasionally letting it brush on her sex. Even though his mouth was full, she could tell he was laughing at her.

"That does it!"

It took a few tries before she throated him completely, going lower than she had before, taking a bit of his sheath into her mouth---and then closed her jaws. Not nearly enough to hurt, but definitely enough to make him jump. Teeth tended to have that effect on stallions, especially when they could feel molars.

"O-okay," he finally eked out, his voice pinched with nervousness, "You have my attention."

His chest shuddered out a relieved sigh when she pulled back. "No teasin', or I start chewin'."

"You certainly know how to get what you want."

Applejack looked over her shoulder at him, smiling a little. "C'mon, sugarcube," she said with much more gentleness than he'd expected, "While yer in here, we gotta steal whatever time we can."

"...As you wish."

He began brushing his lips against her clit, at the same time sending a crackle of magic snapping across her pussy, and Applejack sighed. Finally. She hadn't realized how much she'd been enjoying his 'company' until she'd had to go to bed alone last night; she'd gone for months, years even, without another pony lying next to her, but her bedroom had seemed so empty without him there. Her own hoof and a plastic toy just didn't add up.... and they certainly didn't cuddle her after.

As she was kissing along his medial ring, it suddenly occured to her that, in all the time they'd been together, if one could even call it that, she'd never brought him to climax just using her mouth. Edging further down, she laved the flat of her tongue around his balls, and licked the crease between leg and body, earning a loud groan from behind her. She tucked her hoof under the crook of his knee and pulled his leg upwards; then she hesitated, considering what was in front of her.

He's done it fer me, she thought timidly. An' he's had a bath... it couldn't be that bad, right?

He lifted his hips and brought them back down again, not impatiently, but enough to let her know that he was starting to miss her mouth. Applejack gulped, and slid her tongue a little lower. It was just a tiny sweep across his ass, but it made him sigh contentedly against her folds.

Not bad at all.

As she went back to slurping him down, her mind began to wander lazily. She wondered how many mares he'd held close to him, how many he'd called 'sweetheart'. Where he'd learned that trick of using his tongue on his partner's ass, what it was called, and why she'd never heard of it before. He was certainly more adventurous than any of her other lovers...

Maybe Ponyville's stallions jes' ain't that well-traveled.

She gasped when the first sign of an impending orgasm went quivering through her. Already?! Apparently his nursing had more of an effect on her that she'd care to admit.... maybe she was as naughty as he seemed to think. Careful not to block his airways, she eased her hindquarters a little further down onto his muzzle, moaning as he split her lips apart with his own. His cock slipped from her mouth, and she threw her head back, grinding her teeth.

"Flim!" Her voice was straining under the effort to keep from screaming. "Please!"

He mumbled something without pausing his tongue-lashing; it was pretty much unintelligeable, but considering the way his cock was pulsing, she had a pretty good idea of what he wanted. After pushing the tip of her tongue against his slit, lapping up the beads of pre-cum, she circled her lips around him again and bobbed back down. Her whole body was beginning to shake, and she could already feel his head flaring against her palate.

She didn't always squirt, but his tongue was buried so deep inside her that it managed to hit right there, and even through the haze of her orgasm, she was pretty sure she'd given him a little sprinkling. The reverberations of her climax were still shaking through her pussy when he grunted, jerking his hips, and shot his seed into her mouth. The first few spurts hit the back of her throat, and she eagerly pulled on him, just like he'd done to her earlier, moaning and whimpering. Hot, salty, with a slight sweet undertone. Nice. And, unlike some of the stallions in her past, he didn't slam a hoof down on her head and force her to swallow; he just let her go at her own pace, not minding that a bit dribbled out the corners of her mouth.

She pulled off his cock, licking her lips, and let out a soft sigh when she felt him gently kiss her pussy. "Thank you, sweetheart," he said, his voice quiet and breathy.

It was too much. Applejack's hindlegs had been shaking this whole time, and they finally gave out.

"Oof!"

She sleepily lifted her head. "What?"

With a swat to her rump, he choked out "Roll over! You're heavy!"

She laughed, but did as requested, turning herself around so they were face-to-face. "Careful, mister. I've kicked stallions in the nuts fer less than that."

"It's not my fault you're the size of a horse!"

"Actually, stringbean," she smirked, "I'm pretty damn sure that is yer fault."

He blushed, but laughed. "Guilty as charged."

He pulled her in her a kiss, which surprised her; every other stallion she'd been with had balked at kissing a fellatio-flavoured mouth. Well, he's kissed me after licking my ass, so I s'pose he's got no room to complain, she figured as she let him tease her lips with little nibbles. She brushed her foreleg up his side, but paused when he winced.

"Did I hurtcha?"

"A little."

She leaned over him and very carefully placed a kiss on the fresh dressings. "Sorry, sugarcube."

He shifted back and patted the space he'd made for her on the pillow. It wasn't nearly as soft and fluffy as the ones back home, but it was comfortable enough, especially with him there next to her. For a few lovely minutes they lay nose-to-nose, breathing the same air.

"The foal seems calmer than usual," he said as he traced his hoof back and forth over her belly.

"She's sleepin'," she answered.

"How can you tell?"

"She still rolls over every now an' then, but she ain't kickin'. She must be havin' a nap."

"Nothing's been flying around, either." Giving her abdomen a pat, he smiled and whispered "You sleep tight, baby."

After a few moments, she said "I still don't know how I'm gonna raise her."

"You know..." He shuffled up the bed so she could tuck her head under his chin. "I never thought I'd get to be a father."

"How come?"

His breath lightly ruffled her mane as he chuckled. "Really? You can't figure it out on your own?"

"I got some idea," she said, tilting her muzzle upwards so she could kiss his throat, "But I kinda want t'hear yer reasons first."

"They won't surprise you much. One, I'm not particularly good breeding stock. But don't you worry about that," he quickly added when he felt a ripple of worry go through her, "Most of the problems I have are recessive, especially if it's a filly as your, er, friend predicted."

"And? What's number two?"

"I don't..." He sighed and hugged her tighter. "I'm not very good with long-term relationships."

"Aw, c'mon. Yer lifestyle ain't that bad." He chuckled again, but she kept going: "You've never been able t'find some nice mare who'd be willin' to travel around with ya?"

"Would you?"

"Are ya proposin'?"

"It was a rhetorical question, my dear." That made her ears flicker a bit; he'd dropped the 'sweetheart'. "Most ponies get the wanderlust out of their systems when they're young. Anyone who's even remotely eligible for somepony my age usually wants to settle down."

She nodded, brushing her chin against his coat. Yes, that did make sense, and she of all ponies could understand the urge to run back home again. She thought back to the only other relationship he'd mentioned: "Is that what got between you an' the headmaster's daughter?"

His chest heaved up, pushing hers back, and he slowly let out his breath. "Yes. No. Well, sort of."

"'Sort of'?"

He seemed tense. "It's a long story, Applejack."

"Some other time, then," she said, and pulled out of his embrace. As she did her best to fix her bangs without a mirror, she added "I best be goin'. Don't wanna be late fer my first ultrasound, after all."

He licked his hoof, and brought it up to slick down a lock of her hair that had gotten mussed. "Do you have someone to go with you?"

"Yeah, I got somepony else comin'. I figured you'd bail."

"Hey!"

"I'm jes' teasin' ya, sugarcube," she said with a smile. Eyeing his side, she added "I... I'm so sorry y'got hurt under our care, y'know. I don't want y'makin' it worse."

A bright flash of green made her squint and lift a hoof in front of her eyes, and Flim yelped in pain.

"What did I jes' say?" she chastised. "Y'aint supposed t'be exertin' yerself! Take it easy."

"I..." His eyes trailed up to his horn, which was still faintly glowing. "I didn't do that!"

"What d'you---"

Before she could finish, he jolted straight up into a sitting position, his eyes wide. "Holy shit!"

"What?!"

"I... I can feel him!" he murmured as he rubbed a hoof up and down his horn. "He's here!"

"Who is?"

"He's here!" he repeated, his eyes flashing with excitement. "He's gotta be! He's somewhere---"

The door to his room slammed open, and Applejack nearly jumped out of her skin. As fast as she could, she yanked the sheets up to cover his cock. Of all the times to get caught---!

There was the clacking of hooves on tile, and then a nervous voice: "Flim?"

They stared at each other---he was grinning, she was not---and Flim lifted his foreleg to pull the curtain open a few inches. "Flam?"

"Oh, thank Celestia!" He galloped towards the bed, his hat blowing off in his haste. "The nurses told me you'd been injured! What happened?! Why did that hayseed coltnap you? Did he---"

He used his magic to sweep the curtains back, and came to a skidding stop when he saw who was sharing the bed with his brother.

It really did seem as if time had stopped. As Flim shrunk into the bedsheets, Applejack scratched the back of her neck, a hot flush staining her cheeks. She had to clear her throat a few times before she could speak. "H-howdy," she said with a sheepish smile.

Flam very slowly closed his gaping mouth, and then turned to Flim with fire in his eyes. "Oh, I cannot wait to hear this one."

Fewer Than Three

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Applejack could feel her tail curling shamefully around her hindquarters, but Flam's icy eyes weren't on her. After pulling the covers up another few inches, Flim started with an abashed "I-I can explain---"

He held a hoof up, looking away in disgust. "Don't you dare say another word 'til you wipe your face!"

"Why?"

"WHY?! You're covered in her---her---" His ears were snapping about furiously, a hot, angry red tracing across his face. "I can smell her on you, Flim!"

"Oh, shit," she muttered, watching him rub his fetlocks back and forth across his mouth. Her blush turned hotter at the memory of the time she'd wandered back into a hoedown with a glob of semen on her cheek---at least that time a sympathetic cousin had taken her aside before she could humiliate herself.

This, however, was something she didn't think she could live down anytime soon.

Applejack cleared her throat and began to slide off the bed. "I'll, uh, jes'..." She slunk around Flam's glare, heading toward the door. "...Leave you two t'catch up."

"You do that."

His eyes were on her as she shuffled away; even though she could feel them boring into the back of her skull, she made sure to keep her tail tucked between her legs, preserving whatever modesty she had left. She was barely out the door when Flam began screaming. As embarrassed as she was, she had to put her hoof over her lips, trying not to laugh. She knew Flim had a.... rather extensive vocabulary, but apparently his brother's was even more colourful. He was hollering some epithets she hadn't heard since Big MacIntosh got hit under the tail with a rock-filled snowball.

When he'd paused to catch him breath, Flim sniffed "Are you done yet?"

"Oh, I haven't even begun! Flim, I'm going to cut your head off and---"

That started a fresh torrent. Giggling, Applejack leaned against the door and pressed her ear on it.

"---get your sorry ass stuck in Ponyville---in Ponyville, of all places!---and, of course, you expect me to come rescue you, and for some fucking stupid reason I do! Why do I keep doing this? Why do you keep doing this?! To think, I've been worried sick these past few days, only to find you galavanting about with that---"

"Choose your next words very carefully," Flim said with a sharp edge in his voice.

It seemed to startle his brother, but not enough to shut him up. "Why? Why are you defending her? Why was she even here?" Then he paused, as if something just hit him. "And what happened to her? She's really let herself go."

Applejack's ears flattened, but her lover was quick to correct him: "She's not fat, you twit. She's pregnant."

There was a long stretch of silence, and she truly regretted not being able to see their faces.

"Pregnant?"

"Er, yes."

"O...kay," Flam said, very slowly, and obviously through clenched teeth. "This is the part where you tell me it's not yours."

Another silence.

This time, it was broken by Flim screaming "OW! No, Flam! Not the horn! Not the horn! Ow ow OW!!"

"You stupid, stupid son of a bitch! How could you let that happen?! You---"

"Stitches, Flam! I have stitches! Take it easy!!"

"What?"

"Stitches," he repeated, and she could hear fabric rustling around. "See?"

"Oh, Celestia," Flam whispered. "What did he do to you?"

"He didn't---oh, nevermind. It was just an accident."

"Take the bandages off. Let me see."

"No. You'll faint."

"Dammit, brother, let me see!"

"Fine! But you'd better sit down."

She had to press her ear against the door, but she could faintly hear the sound of the chair scraping against the floor, and then the sticky noise of adhevise being pulled away. Flam began to say something, but it choked out into a whimper, and he started to retch. When she heard his hooves clattering to the bathroom, Applejack nervously opened the door a crack and peeked in. Flim was rubbing his temples with a disconcerted look on his face; his eyes were screwed shut, so he didn't notice hers in the doorway. She felt her stomach churn and quickly closed the door again, but it wasn't the sound of vomiting that had shaken her---she'd caught a glimpse of his exposed wound, and she could understand why Flam was having such a visceral reaction. It was hideous.

The water gurgled down the toilet, and Flam, still coughing a bit, made his way back into the room.

"Are you alright?"

"No, brother," he said, "I am not alright." His throat sounded ragged. "And neither are you."

"It's... not as bad as it looks."

"Really? Because it looks revolting. And how did you get the black eye?"

"Oh, Flam," he muttered, "You would not believe the weekend I've had."

"You know, were this any other weekend, I'm damn sure I wouldn't want to hear about it."

They both laughed, and even though it still felt tense, Applejack smiled. Good. She was glad Flam's anger seemed to have diffused---after what he'd been through, Flim needed all the support he could get.

"Okay. Tell me what happened. Start to finish."

"Look..." Flim sighed, and again she heard the chair against the floor. It was hard to tell, but it seemed as if Flam had pulled closer to the bed. "Once her brother found out who got her pregnant---"

"Are you sure it's yours?"

"Completely," he said. "She told me as much, and I... I trust her."

"Do you, now?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure she's not just, I don't know, pinning this on you because of some hidden agenda?"

"No, Flam," he snapped, "She's not Trixie."

The gasp came out before she could stuff her hoof in her mouth, and she heard Flam do the same.

"I'm sorry," Flim said, so low she could barely hear it. "That came out wrong. I didn't mean---"

"How dare you!" he shouted. "How dare you! After what you did---!"

"Flam! Flam." There was a muted hiss of magic. Applejack could guess what it was for; she'd seen unicorns send each other little horn-to-horn sparks before, usually when emotions were running high, but she didn't understand the nuances of their exchange. When Flam let his breath of out what sounded like a very tight chest, she put her fetlocks over the top of her belly and rubbed up and down. She wondered if it was possible for twins to touch horns in the womb.

For a few minutes they didn't speak, at least not out loud, and the only thing she could hear was the back-and-forth of magic; it reminded her of the soft, puffy white noise between songs on an old vinyl record.

"Flam," he said again, all of the terseness gone from his words, "Please. Please don't be angry with me. Not now. I...I'm sorry."

"I'm allowed to be angry, brother! Especially when you've gotten yourself into a mess like this, and then have the audacity to---"

"Don't yell at me," he said petulantly.

When she heard Flam's aggreived sigh, Applejack grinned a little. She wasn't proud of it, but she'd learned long ago that a good pout could do wonders on her brother's temper; apparently Flim wasn't above using such tactics himself.

"Fine, fine. Just... go back to the story."

"Well, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted---twice---once her brother found out I was the sire, he, er, decided to matters into his own hooves."

"Meaning?"

"Brother, we really need to learn to better cover our tracks. I'm not sure how he did it, but he managed to track us down. Me, specifically."

"I assume he wants some child support?"

"Worse. H-he wants me to marry her," he said with a bit of a tremor. "He came at me with a shotgun."

"He what?!"

"A shotgun! He broke into my hotel room!"

"And your... 'friend' didn't try to put a stop to it?"

Her ears pricked up---she'd almost heard the scare quotes he'd used. After a few seconds, when Flim answered, he sounded startled, too. "How did you know about that?"

"Oh, please. Half the floor heard. Besides, you left a little parting gift. You should both thank your lucky stars I found it before the maids did!"

"What are you talking ab---"

She heard a whispery sound, as if something papery had been thrown. "Call it insurance. No mare in her right mind would marry you after seeing these."

"What---" Then his voice deflated. "...Oh."

Flam let out a biting laugh. "That's all you can say? 'Oh'? By the way, you're paying for any future therapy sessions I might need."

"Why... why would you even get these developed?" Flim choked out. "They were supposed to be private!"

'Developed'? They were talking about photographs?

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe because I thought they'd be the only clue as to what had happened to you!"

"You idiot! I was going to develop these myself! What if somepony at the store printed out copies and sent them to the papers? Do you really want to ruin his career?!"

"I don't give a rat's ass about his career! I was worried about you!"

"...You were worried about me?"

"Of fucking course I---!"

Again she heard the exchange of magic, and one of them---she wasn't sure who---groaned.

"Flim," he said, in a much more gentle tone, "Don't ever doubt I care about you. Those four years we had to spend apart were..."

"I know. I know."

They sat in silence for awhile. Just as Applejack was turning to leave, Flam began to speak again: "Brother... what are we going to do?"

"I don't know. But you know we can work magic when we put our heads together."

He tapped his hooves against the tiles as he considered his options. "Are you going to tell the Old Battleaxe?"

"NO!" he shouted. "No, no! Absolutely not!"

"Why not?"

"She doesn't need to know!" The starchy pillow crinkled as Flim flopped back down on it. "Flam, she's the last pony I want to see right now."

"I still think she should know about this. If your little maref---er, if Applejack's planning on keeping this foal---"

"Of course she is."

"Then we need to let her know."

"Oh, Celestia, Flam! You're being ridiculous! You know as well as I do what kind of pony she is. If she finds out about this, she'll either drink herself half-blind or, or---I don't know, burn the hospital down!"

Flam was beginning to sound worn out. "Yes, brother, I know she's a bit of a cunt. But she is the only family we have."

Applejack pulled back from the door to adjust her hat. Before she could even begin to worry about her potential sister-in-law, a sudden voice said, right in her ear: "So I take it the prodigal brother has returned?"

"GYAH!"

She jumped and skittered to the side, her hooves sliding over the tile. She'd been so focused on the bizarre conversation behind the closed door that she hadn't even heard anyone approach.

"Jeez, Twilight!" she snapped. "Y'shouldn't sneak up on ponies like that! It's rude!"

She just smirked. "Ruder than eavesdropping?"

Her dock flicked up in embarrassment. Great. She'd just been caught with her ear on the door, the very thing she scolded Apple Bloom about so often. "I, uh..."

"Oh, I'm just giving you a hard time," Twilight said with a warm smile; then, to Applejack's surprise, she gave her a warmhearted nuzzle and hugged her around the shoulders, hard. It wasn't that Twilight wasn't affectionate, but ever since she'd found out about the pregnancy, she'd been treating her like a porcelain doll. Just a week ago she'd actually screamed at Rarity for serving Applejack tea with caffeine in it, going so far as to slap the cup out of her hooves. She'd also refrained from hugging these past few months, citing the fact that a 'crushing force' could induce a miscarriage.

She was so caught up in her thoughts she didn't get the chance to return the hug before Twilight pulled back. "Applejack, I'm so excited about this!"

"I'm glad one of us is," she said wryly.

"Don't you worry about a thing." Another unexpected embrace. "This is a normal, everyday procedure. But a truly amazing one---I'm really honoured you asked me to come join you!"

Applejack nodded, trying to keep her face neutral. She didn't want to let her know that she hadn't been her first choice. Big MacIntosh had been too squeamish to look inside his sister's "mare parts", and Fluttershy was still grieving over her ferret's lost litter of three.

"Well, we're running a little late already---we should get going."

They began trotting side-by-side, and after accidentally pulling ahead, Twilight slowed her pace to match her friend's. Applejack thought back to the time Twilight had shoved "A Foal Is Born" into her hooves, and the illustrations of things that looked more like UFO escapees than ponies-to-be. She swallowed. Feeling the baby move was one thing, but actually seeing it...? "So, uh... the nurse kinda gave me a run-down, but---d'you know how this is gonna work?"

"Oh, definitely. I've never been to a gestational ultrasound myself, but Shiny told me all about mine!" Twilight's perky expression shifted a little, turning into the analytical mask Applejack was so used to. But instead of the scientific spiel she was expecting, what came out was "Have you ever had anal sex?"

"I---what?!"

"Anal sex," she repeated, a bit too loud for comfort. "Have you ever---"

Applejack tried really hard to ignore the dirty look a passing candystriper shot them. "Twilight, we're in a public place!"

"It's a perfectly reasonable question, Applejack," she said mildly. That weird smile hadn't left her face. "You're more muscular than the average mare, so the technician might opt for a trans-rectal ultrasound."

"Oh, Celestia..."

"Then again, you're probably approaching your second trimester, which means the embryo would likely be large enough for an abdominal ultrasound," she went on, seemingly unaware of how pale Applejack had become. "You are about three months in, right?"

"Uh, no." Despite the braincells she'd killed that night, the date of conception was permanently etched into her memory---exactly a month before her own birthday. She'd usually celebrated with a glass of Granny's 'shine, but this year she'd had to settle for juice. "Four an' a bit. Almost five, in fact."

"Oh! I stand corrected. It's a fetus now, not an embryo."

"'Baby', Twi. She's a baby."

A feathery brush across her back made her look up; Twilight had extended her wing to give her a side-hug, and was smiling down at her with an look she'd never seen on the alicorn's face before.

"Of course she is," she said gently. "You know, the etymology of 'embryo' means 'that which grows', and 'fetus' means 'young one'."

Unsure of how to respond, she opted for a simple "...Uh-huh." Leave it to Twilight to say something like that.

"How do you know it's a she?"

At that, she had to smile. "Zecora told me."

She wasn't looking, but she could sense her friend raise an eyebrow. "And she figured that out... how, exactly?"

"She did this, uh, trick with her earring." When she heard a sigh, she added "Aw, c'mon, Twilight! Jes' cause it ain't scientific doesn't mean it's mumbo-jumbo. You've seen more'n anypony the stuff she can do!"

"I know, I know, it just..." Twilight shook her head. "It reminded me of a story my mother told me. They paid somepony---a so-called 'psychic'---at a fair to tell them the sex of their first. This was before every dam was getting ultrasounds, you see. Shining had to sleep in their bedroom for the first week because they repainted his pink room blue. And they returned all the dolls they'd bought."

"Hey, nothin' wrong with a fella playin' with dolls."

"I'm just saying," she went on, apparently missing the joke, "Some ponies will take your bits and tell you any hogwash they think you want to hear. I'm not saying Zecora would do that, of course, but..."

She glanced to her side, and noticed that Twilight's ears had folded down. "But?"

Twilight's wings twitched a little, and she stopped walking. Applejack did as well, and stood there staring for a moment before their eyes met again. "Please don't take this the wrong way, Applejack," she said, "But... you're... very, uh, trusting."

"So? Ain't that a good thing? And why shouldn't I trust Zecora?"

She looked behind them at the hallway, then turned back. "It's not Zecora I'm worried about."

It took her a few minutes before that sunk in. "Oh," she said, a little curt. "I get it. Yer worried Flim's playin' me fer a fool, is that it?"

"Well, I wouldn't say a 'fool' so much as---"

A quick wave of her hoof cut her off. She didn't want to hear whatever synonym Twilight had been thinking of, anyway. "I appreciate it, Twi', but y'don't know him like I do."

She snorted. "Luckily."

"Hey!" She nudged her barrel. "He's been real sweet t'me, y'know!"

The look on her face hardened, but Applejack was sure she'd seen a flinch of... something. Pain, maybe? "A lot of stallions know how to act sweet... so long as it gets them what they want."

Her jaw hung open, and it took awhile before she could speak again; even then, it was hard getting the words out through her burning, tight throat. "I don't believe it," she whispered. "You think I'm a whore, too, dontcha?"

"What?"

"I thought you of all ponies would know better'n to judge!" She snapped her head to the side to avoid Twilight's outstretched hoof. "I can't believe you'd---!"

"Applejack, no." She took a step closer, and when Applejack flinched again, she used a little puff of magic to take her by the chin, turning her head around again. "No. I don't think that. Not at all."

"Then why'd you say that?!"

"About stallions? Becuase it's true." Now she took both freckled cheeks in her hooves. "But I would never judge you, sweetie. Not after some of the things I've done."

She flushed, her mouth agape. That was the first time she'd ever heard Twilight use a term of affection.

"I don't want to see you get hurt, Applejack," she went on. Before she could tell her the same thing she'd said to her brother the day before---'Flim wouldn't hurt me like that'---Twilight surprised her even further by saying "I love you. You know that, right?"

She could hear her heartbeat in her ears, but managed to nod numbly.

"Ms. Apple?"

The receptionist's voice carried out from the open doors of the waiting room to the hallway where they were sitting, and at the mention of her name, Applejack lept up to her hooves. "Uh---Guess that's me," she said with a forced grin, and immediately wanted to slap herself for how stupid that sounded.

They got a few rasied eyebrows from the other patients in the waiting room as they walked in, Twilight's wing protectively around Applejack's shoulders, but she kept her eyes forward as she made her way to the front desk. Hanging above it was a clock which read five-past. Damn! She hated being late. "Uh, yeah, I have a ten o'clock appointment?"

The receptionist tilted her head towards a heavy oak door, where an icy-coloured unicorn in a crisp linen uniform was standing, holding a clipboard with her magic. Applejack stepped back in surprise. "Oh! Hello."

"Good morning. I'm Doctor Lily Soft." She politely extended her hoof towards Applejack. "I take it you're the lucky mare?"

She bit back what she wanted to say, and shook the offered hoof. "Yes, ma'am. I-I'm sorry fer bein' late."

"Not a problem at all." The doctor's eyes moved from her face to Twilight's, and they widened slightly; after a quick nod, which could have been an attempt at a bow, she turned back toward the door she'd stepped out of. "It's right through here. Please follow me."

At the end of a short hallway was a sterile-looking door, on which hung a plaque reading 'REPRODUCTIVE ULTRASOUND' above a hanging basket; Dr. Soft quickly flipped through the files inside, found the one she was looking for, and ushered the two ponies behind her in. Applejack did a quick scan of the room as she entered. It was a bit larger than a regular examination room, which was probably due to the intimidating-looking machine sitting next to the table, and instead of pictures of landscapes and sunsets, the walls were adorned with grinning babies, and, a bit disturbingly, posters warning about the dangers of doing drugs while pregnant.

"Ms. Apple, did you hear me?"

She peeled her eyes away from the one outlining the effect of Fetal Alcohol Syndrome. "Huh?"

"I asked you to please get up on the table," she said, running a hoof over the fresh sheet of paper that had been pulled over the plastic mattress. "Lie on your back, with your hindlegs extended. You can do what you like with your forelegs, so long as you keep them away from your abdomen."

"Oh, uh, yeah. A'course." It took a few tries, but with a grunt, she managed to haul herself up just as Twilight was starting to light her horn. That made her jaw set. She didn't like being yanked about with magic, and Twilight knew that. Besides, a cumbersome belly wasn't a handicap, dammit!

As she shifted, crinkling the paper, Dr. Soft opened a drawer and magicked out something that looked like an oversized toothpaste tube. "Now, did you make sure to groom the coat on your underbelly before coming in?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good." She unscrewed the cap, and a dollop of clear gel slid out the top. It reminded Applejack of precum, and she had to bite her lip to keep from giggling. "I'm going to have to apply a thick layer of gel. It'll feel quite cold."

Better than stickin' it up my butt. "Okay. Squirt away."

Twilight chortled, and she put her hoof over her face in embarrassment. "That came out wrong."

The doctor gave her one of those I've-heard-everything smiles and began to squeeze the gel out in big globs. "Is this your first ultrasound?"

Her hindleg twitched when the cool gel made contact, and she hissed through her teeth. "Yeah."

"Do you know what to expect?"

"Sorta." She eyed the machine; it looked like a combination of a typewriter and a film projector, with a cloudy screen on top. "You'll poke an' prod at me, an' we'll see a black-an'-white picture a'the baby...?"

"More or less." She capped the tube and put it back in the drawer, and then unhooked a large (and unfortunately phallic) object from the side of the screen. "This is called the transducer probe, and I'll be using it to direct the sound waves into your uterus. Are you sitting comfortably?"

"As comfy as I'm-a get," she said as she stared down at her glimmering midsection.

"Here's what's going to happen."

Dr. Soft positioned the transducer on the largest swell of her belly, pressing down harder than seemed necessary; she fiddled with the machine for a moment, and pushed a button just below the screen. It flickered to life before turning to static. "I'm going to move this against your abdomen, and you'll feel some vibrations. After a minute or two, an image will appear on the screen. Please stay still, or I won't be able to get a good image."

Applejack licked her lips and looked up at the ceiling.

"Now, I've looked over what little was on your file..."

Please don't lecture me, she thought, thinning her lips.

"And you've stated that you are---" She looked away from the machine to check her clipboard. "One hundred and forty days in, is that correct?"

It took her a minute to figure out the math in her head. "Uh, I s'pose so."

The machine hummed as it warmed up, and Dr. Soft began moving the transducer across the slicked hide. "Hm."

Her face remained impassive and professional, but Applejack had seen the subtle flick of her ear. "What? What's 'hm'?"

"Oh, it's nothing serious---you just seem a little large for the gestational stage."

"A little large...?"

With a reassuring pat to the shoulder, Twilight smiled and said "She's always been big-boned."

"Hey!"

"I didn't mean fat, Applejack! You literally are big-boned. You have 'good birthing hips', as my mother would s---Ooh, look!" Her eyes were huge as she leaned forward, grinning ear-to-ear. "Applejack, look! I can see something!"

But the doctor's words were still ringing in her head. You seem a little large. You seem a little...Oh, Celestia, no! She suddenly remembered her second cousin once removed who'd made headlines by having quadruplets by surprise, and immediately snapped her eyes shut. "Argh!"

The doctor and Twilight exchanged a glance over her belly. "Is something the matter?"

"Aw, Twi', I can't look yet!" she whimpered. "I... how many are in there?"

She opened one eye just a crack. Twilight's face was frozen in slack-jawed shock.

"What? What?! How many are in there?!"

"Um..." She brought a hoof up to her mouth and began to nibble. Her eyes moved from the screen to Applejack's opened eye, and she offered her a nervous smile. "...Fewer than three?"

"WHAT?!"

She sat up far too fast, making the transducer slide off her belly and the image crackle out. "Twins? Was it twins?!"

"Ms. Apple, I'm going to have to ask you to lie as still as you possibly can," the doctor said sternly. "Otherwise, I won't be able to tell you anything at all."

"But you saw inside me, right? Was it twins?"

She put her hoof on Applejack's shoulder and, gently but firmly, pushed her back into a lying position. "Well, I briefly saw one fetus before you jumped like that."

"Was it alone?"

It looked like she was trying hard to keep from rolling her eyes. "Yes, it was alone. You're not having a multiple pregnancy."

Applejack's head snapped around to glare at a smirking Twilight. "What? I didn't lie. One is fewer than three."

She finally let her breath out, and reluctantly laughed. "Didn't take ya fer a prankster, Twilight!"

"I got you good, didn't I?"

"Yeah, well, I'm-a get ya back fer that!" she said with a friendly punch to her elbow. "Y'nearly made me piss myself!"

"Was there a reason you were concerned about having multiples?" Dr. Soft said, a little distractedly.

Despite herself, Applejack blushed. She'd only seen this doctor in passing before, and wasn't sure how much gossip she might have heard. "Uh, the... the father's a twin."

"Alright, I've got the image up again. Would you like to look?"

"...Sure."

And there it was.

"Oh sweet Celestia," she breathed. Nopony in her entire family had ever bothered with an ultrasound before, so she had no idea what to expect. She thought she'd just see a bunch of random blobs and blurs like those cross-section illustrations, but... inside the static, there was a little quivering curl, pulsing and twitching and very clearly alive. "Is... is that..."

Her gut lurched as it hiccuped; then it swirled around. She could clearly see a head, as well as the spidery, spindly limbs. There was a dark, fluttering shape in its ribs, and, like a punch to the chest, she realized that was its tiny heart.

"Is that my baby?" Applejack murmured.

"It sure is," the doctor said as she moved the sensor up and down over Applejack's belly. "Quite a healthy one, at that. See how it's moving?"

She blinked, and the tears streaked down her face. "Baby," she whispered, touching the side of her belly. Twilight pressed her hoof against the other side, and together they watched as it bounced around.

"Everything's looking good so far," she said as her trained eyes scanned the screen. "The placenta and umbilical cord are both where they should be, and I'm sensing a very strong heartbeat."

Twilight tenderly wiped the tears from her frined's cheeks, and Applejack briefly wondered if she sometimes used the same gesture on Spike. "So, uh, she's okay?"

Dr. Soft looked up in surprise. "How did you know the sex? I thought this was your first ultrasound!"

"It is," she said with a small smile. She watched as the hindlegs curled up against the body, then bolted upwards in a kick. "A friend a'mine told me."

Turning to the doctor, Twilight said "Did she get it right?"

"Yes, she did." With her free hoof, she pointed at the rump. "See the hindquarters? They're smooth. No sign of a scrotum. And, in answer to your earlier question, yes, she appears to be perfectly healthy." Dr. Soft squinted a bit; without removing the transducer, she held her free hoof up to the screen, pressing the tip against the curve of the foal's rump. "I can't be sure of the exact measurements until I print off the sonograms, but this one appears to be on the big side."

"Is that a problem?"

"No. Sometimes obese mares suffer from gestational diabetes, which can adversely affect the growth of the fetus, but you're obviously not in that category." She removed her hoof and began absent-mindedly tapping it against her knee. "This could be a case of hybrid vigor."

"But... she ain't sick?"

Dr. Soft looked over at her with the calm expression she was so used to using on nervous mothers. "Is there any reason in particular you're concerned?"

"It's jes'..." Applejack hadn't realized Twilight had taken her hoof in her own until she squeezed. Looking away from the doctor, she said in a quiet voice "I, uh, I was kinda... okay, really drunk the night I got pregnant. I know that can hurt the baby."

"Oh, there's no need to worry about that," she said, with a flicker of a smile. "It---she hadn't even implanted in your uterus at that point. As long as you've been dry since then, she shouldn't face any adverse effects."

"Oh yeah, I ain't had a drop sin---"

"Aah!"

Twilight's hoof jerked off her foreleg and she slipped down from her seat, landing on her knees.

"Jeez, are ya okay?"

"No!" she said sharply, glaring over her shoulder. "Something just yanked my chair out from under me!"

Applejack burst out laughing. "Ahahaha! She knows we're talkin' about her!"

"I beg your pardon?"

"She's been---" She had to take a few breaths to calm herself. The look on Twilight's face was priceless. "I'm sorry, sugarcube. I ain't laughin' at you; it's jes' that she's been throwin' things around fer a couple a'days now."

"She's been...?" Her violet eyes were shooting around wildly, from the screen to the doctor to the distended belly and back again. "The fetus has been...? You mean...?!"

"Uh-huh."

"Pre-natal casting?! Oh Celestia, this is amazing!"

Applejack chuckled into her folded hooves as Twilight began to bounce in her seat like an excited filly on her birthday. "I've read about this, but I've never had the chance to witness it first-hoof! Oh, look at me! Here I am without anything to take notes with!" She beamed at the screen, and even without looking, Applejack knew she was staring at the fuzzy little cone on the top of the fetus' head. "Applejack, as soon as I get my hooves on a quill, you have to tell me everything!"

"Well, there ain't much to tell," she said as she watched the little thing as it pulsed with her heartbeat. "The other day when Flim an' I were---" She coughed. Luckily her brain had kicked in before she could properly finish that sentence. "Uh, Flim an' I saw her throw a jar a'jam off the shelf. I thought he'd done it at first, but---"

"No, no, you have to tell me everything! Every detail! For example, what did it feel like? Did you sense a surge inside you? Was there ozone in the air, and did---"

"Twilight!" She was laughing as she pushed her back into her chair. "Calm down, sugarcube! I promise I'll tell ya everything later. But fer now, can we jes' let the doctor do her work?"

"Just as I suspected. This is a case of hybrid vigor." The doctor had moved the sensor to the bottom of Applejack's belly, right above her teats. "You know, this may seem unprofessional of me to say this, but I do wish more ponies were open to mixed-race relationships. Their offspring are almost always healthier."

Applejack and Twilight just looked at each other, neither sure of what to say.

Dr. Soft moved to flick a switch behind the machine, and it began making strange churring noises. "I'm going to print out a few stills from the ultrasound. I'll need to keep some for your file, but as for the rest---would you like to take them home?"

"Uh, sure." It seemed weird that she'd be showing her family pictures of the baby before it had even been born---she just knew Granny was going to say something about counting one's chickens---but at the same time, she didn't want to miss out on this opportunity.

"Overall, everything looks good. I'd advise you to increase your liquid intake, since the amniotic sac is a bit small, considering how large the fetus is relative to its---her age." She finally removed the transducer and began to wipe it off. "I'll go over the still images and add my notes to your file. On your way out, please speak to the receptionist about booking another appointment in about two months' time. In the meantime, if anything seems out of the ordinary, just come back and we'll see if we can't slip you in for a quick check-up."

"Okay," she said quietly. She couldn't quite believe what had happened---looking insde her own body, and seeing somepony else's, had been surreal, like the kind of dream she'd have after eating greasy leftovers.

With her magic, Dr. Soft opened the door on the other side of the room as she stacked the sonogram printouts on the desk next to the machine. "The bathroom's in there, and it has everything you need for getting cleaned up. Please take your time; the next appointment isn't for another ten minutes."

Now that she could move freely again, Applejack sat up, twisting her spine back and forth. It had been uncomfortable with all that weight pressing down on her organs, and she shuddered as she felt a few of them sliding back into place. "Thanks so much, Doctor."

"It was my pleasure, Ms. Apple." Then she turned to Twilight, and this time gave her a full bow. "And it was wonderful to meet you, Princess."

She waited for the door to close behind the doctor before she grumbled "Jeez. I really wish they wouldn't do that."

Applejack wasn't paying attention. She was holding the printouts, staring in awe at the top one. The foal's hindlegs were stretched out, her forelegs curled up against her chest; with a trembling hoof, Applejack brushed across the nubby little horn, barely visible. She's got Mac's ears, she thought, and felt a lump rise in her throat.

"Hey," Twilight said, catching her attention. "How do you feel?"

She put the pictures back on the desk, being careful not to smear them against her wetted belly. The gel was beginning to to get dry and gummy. "Uh, like a ghost sneezed on me."

"Okay, you have to come back home with me and tell me everything!"

"Twilight..."

She actually pressed her front hooves together and pointed them at her beseechingly. "Please? I'll have Spike make us some tea. Herbal tea, of course! Oh, and I got some goat's milk; it's very high in protein, so it'll be good for you and---"

"Twilight!" Applejack laughed as she eased her way off the table. "Can I at least get un-slimed first?"

"Oh! Of course." Again she tucked her wing over Applejack's back as they headed to the washroom. "That was amazing, Applejack. Thank you so much!"

"Yer the one who should be gettin' thanked, Twi'," she said with a hesitant nuzzle. "I, uh, I couldn't-a done it without ya."

Her ears snapped up as something hit her. "Wait a minute---why wasn't Flim here?"

Trixie greeted him with a crushing hug the moment the opened the caravan door. "Oh, pookie, you were gone for so long! I was starting to get worried!"

He halfheartedly returned the embrace, but pulled out of it as soon as she let up.

"...Pookie?" she said, watching as he flopped down on her cot, his back to her. "Is everything alright?"

"No."

She carefully lay down and spooned up behind him, her foreleg draped around his waist. "What happened?"

"It's bad, Trixie," he said, his words quiet and pained. "Really bad."

"How bad?"

"I.... don't really want to talk about it right now."

After a few breaths, he could feel her pull him in tighter and press her muzzle against his neck. "Okay."

He wasn't sure how long they stayed like that; it could have been a few minutes, or it could have been half an hour. It wasn't until Trixie began to groom the back of his mane that he spoke again: "It's nothing I can't fix."

"Oh?"

"Yes," he said, whuffing a bit from the soothing pleasure of her tongue ruffling against his hair. "Flim doesn't know it yet, but I have an ace up my sleeve."

Colts Don't Cry

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“Good morning!” Applejack rested her drink on the counter and smiled at the receptionist. “I’m jes’ signin’ in to visit a friend a’mine. Room 103 in the I.C.U.?”

She nodded politely. “How nice! You’re the second guest he’s had today.”

Her ears squashed against her head. “Uh… really?”

“Yes. His brother can in a little while ago, I believe.”

“Oh.” She scooped her travel mug back up, trying to hide her disappointment. “Well, if he’s busy I’ll come back again---“

“Not at all.” Tapping at the logbook, she slid over a quill. “I think he forgot to sign out, but I am fairly certain I saw him leave. Just write your name and the time down there, Miss Apple.”

As she was dotting her second initial, her ears flicked up when the receptionist added “Is that coffee you’re drinking?”

“Yeah, it’s coffee. Why?”

She tittered, waving a hoof. “Oh, it’s just---I don’t know how much you know about this, honey, but coffee’s not recommended for a mare in your situation---“

“Ma’am, are you a doctor?!”

She recoiled with a gasp, and a few other receptionists glanced their way. “N-no, but---“

“Then I suggest you get back t’signin’ ponies in an’ waterin’ plants. When I want medical advice, I’ll go t’spomepony who went to college fer it!”

She snatched up her drink and went off stamping down the hall. Great. Her good mood was almost entirely ruined. Why were these little things getting so under her skin? First half the town buzzing about her, strangers on the street feeling entitled to just grope at her belly, then Twilight treating her like a science experiment, and now this? She had seven more months of this to put up with! And what about the birth itself? She sincerely hoped it would happen at night, at home… oh gods, what if her water broke in a grocery store or at a movie theatre? She knew she’d never hear the end of it.

“I hope yer not plannin’ on makin’ a grand entrance,” she muttered at her midsection. Ma hadn’t been able to show her face in Ponyville for months after Big MacIntosh was born---right smack dab in the middle of town square due to an embarrassing miscalculation. ‘Not too far from where we made him,’ she’d always say, much to her children’s consternation. (Applejack never did drink out of that fountain again).

After steeling herself, she took a quick peek into the room. Oh, thank Celestia---Flam wasn’t there. She just wasn't up for dealing with him yet. It had been humiliating enough that he'd caught them covered in each others' fluids... Her cheeks flushed with heat when she realized she hadn't had to chance to clean herself off before running into Twilight. She'd either not noticed, or been too polite to mention it.

She hesitated at the doorway when something struck her---would Twilight even recognize the smell of a stallion's 'enthusiasm'? It only just now dawned on her how little she knew about her friend’s past; even at those cider-fueled sleepover parties, Twilight was the only one who didn't divulge much about her private life. The only thing she'd confessed was that she felt uncomfortable dating now that she was an alicorn, but, still... Applejack couldn't remember ever seeing her on another pony's arm, even when she was still a unicorn. She grinned a bit when she remembered a joke she’d heard at the Canterlot wedding from an inebriated guest who probably regretted it later: What’s the first thing a student at Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns does when she wakes up? She walks back home. If that school’s reputation was true, there was little chance Twilight was still a virgin.

Well. It’s none a’my business, anyway.

She smiled when she saw Flim with a book propped up on his knees; even though he was holding it with his hooves, his horn was alight, and the swirls of green magic between the pages suggested he was fiddling with something hidden by the covers.

"Sugarcube?"

She barely managed to get a glimpse of "Daring Do and the..." before he slammed the book shut. "A-Applejack!"

"Sorry if I was interruptin' somethin'," she said as she made her way into the room.

“No, not at all,” he said as he pushed the book safely into the drawer. “I, er, I just got some reading material to pass the time… I didn’t know you’d be back so soon.”

“I won’t keep ya long,” she replied with a warm smile. She made the mistake of struggling into the bedside chair while simultaneously reaching into her saddlebag, and she probably would have slumped to the floor if it hadn’t been for his magic grabbing her around what was left of her waist.

Flim clucked his tongue as she grunted, shifting her weight back and forth. “You really should be more careful, sweetheart.”

“Says the pony whose gash is bigger’n mine.”

He made a sound that was halfway between a snort and a cough, but she’d seen the smile he’d tried to hide.

“I got somethin’ t’show ya.” Now that she was settled on the chair, it was easier to pry open the buckles and pull out the first sonogram print; she used her frog to smooth out the crinkled corners, and placed it on Flim’s lap. “Guess who!”

He blinked a few times, and then, just like she had done earlier, carefully placed his hoof over the image, right over the fuzzy blob indicating where the fetus’ heart was. Then he glanced up at her, his eyes wide.

“Yup,” Applejack said, “That’s her. I woulda brought it by yesterday, but I kinda got dragged back home by an over-enthusiastic friend.”

He didn’t say anything, instead turning his eyes back to the picture. She began to point out what she could remember: “I know it’s kinda hard t’see, but that thing there? That’s the placenta. And this ain’t a dick; it’s the umbilical cord. The doc said everything’s all right.”

His lips moved silently for a few moments before he finally spoke. “She’s…?”

She gestured at the rump. "An’ look down there. See what's under the tail?"

He squinted, tilting the picture slightly. "No."

"Exactly," she grinned. "Nothin' there. It's a filly fer sure, now."

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, and again he lifted a hoof to touch the grainy image. "She looks more like a shrimp than a filly."

Applejack rubbed her fetlocks against her belly. It seemed like every day her hide was being pulled tighter and tighter, and she was sure she could feel the ripples of stretch marks forming under her coat. "Well, the bun ain't cooked yet."

"And the knot isn't tied, either," he said, flipping to the next image. "The weekend's over---why isn't your brother here with a judge and a paper for us to sign?"

"Uh… I ain't exactly sure," she mumbled. He was still staring at the printouts, so she didn't have to worry about avoiding his eye. She'd been prickling with worry all morning, but breakfast had come and gone without so much as a word from Big MacIntosh. Normally that wouldn't have been out of the ordinary, but ever since she got up she'd been waiting for him to bring up the subject of marriage. It was like a sword dangling over her head, making each bite of food go down her throat with a bitter scratchiness. Not only had he remained silent, but he’d avoided her gaze altogether; she sincerely doubted he'd forgotten about his plan... but she wasn't about to bank on him having changed his mind, either.

She jerked back to attention when his hoof came to rest on hers.

“It doesn’t matter,” Flim said gently. “Even if he does show up, there isn’t much he can do.”

“What d’you mean by that?”

He nodded his head towards his I.V. “They’ve still got me on painkillers. They’re a form of opiate. It’s not enough to make me feel drunk, but still---nopony can sign a legally-binding document if they’re under the influence.”

It wasn’t exactly jovial, but she did laugh a little. “Aw, shoot, Flim! Leave it t’you to think of a loophole like that.”

His fetlocks curled around her ankle, and he pulled her hoof onto his lap, right over the picture of their daughter.

“That’s… that’s actually kind of cute.”

“What is?”

He wasn’t exactly avoiding her eye, but he was chewing on his lip, a slight blush covering his cheeks. “Loophole. It’s cute.”

“Flim, I don’t follow---“

“That was my mother’s name.”

She half-gasped, her breath catching in her lungs. It stayed there for a few pulsing heartbeats. Without releasing her hoof, Flim turned his attention back to the sonogram. “They used to call her Loopy.”

Twilight had told her all about embryonic development, how the unborn were unconscious for most of their growth, how they couldn’t really understand anything that was going on---but, as if on cue, her little ‘shrimp’ did a somersault.

“Loopy…?”

“It’s sweet, isn’t it?”

She let her eyes, which had gotten all misty, drift down to the taut curve of her belly. “Flim…”

“I know what you’re going to say,” he said as he pulled his hoof away from hers, “And, honestly, I don’t blame you. You don’t want to name her after---“

“Flim?”

They both turned towards the source of the voice, and gasped in unison. The mare at the door nervously pushed her thick, rhinestone-studded sunglasses up the bridge of her nose, and puffed a little breath out the sides of her mouth, fluffing the edges of her black mane.

“Oh, sweet Celestia,” she said as she strode into the room. “Flim! Honeybun! What did they do to you?!”

Applejack grunted as she was elbowed in the ribs, the mare squeezing her cloaked side against her to put both forelegs on the mattress. Before Flim could properly react, she’d grabbed his face in her hooves, squeezing his cheeks together. “Just look at you!” she squealed. “I haven’t seen you this beaten-up since---since---“

“Since he ruined his brother’s wedding?”

She looked up sharply, and Applejack could see her eyes narrow behind her shades. “How do you know about that?” she said with ice in her voice.

“He told me.”

“I’m sure he’s told you a lot of things.” Her eyes wandered to the bed, where their clasped hooves were still resting, and then slid over to Applejack’s belly. Her eyebrows raised a bit, but she didn’t otherwise react. When she turned her attention back to him, her expression sweetened considerably, and she patted his head. “Flimmy here has some very loose lips. They get him in an awful lot of trouble.”

“Wasn’t his lips that got him into trouble this time.”

“What did get you into trouble?” she asked, turning her back to Applejack. “Flam told me you’d been coltnapped! Have the authorities been notified?”

“Excuse me, miss,” she said tightly. “We were kind of havin’ a private visit---“

With a dismissive wave, she replied “Well, you can leave now. A pony in his position should only be visited by family members.”

Applejack folded her ankles over her belly. Oh, no. No way was she leaving now. “And y’all are family?”

“Yes, we are. I’m his---“ She faltered a bit, her mouth moving soundlessly, but quickly recovered: “His sister. I’m his sister.”

“Oh yeah?” She stole a glance at Flim, who looked like he wasn’t sure if this was really happening. “’Cause he told me his sister’s fourteen years older than him…” Should I, or shouldn’t I? “…and you, miss, don’t look like yer a day over thirty-five.”

“I’m twenty-seven,” she said through gritted teeth.

She smiled smugly, and Flim put a hoof over his mouth. “Still too young t’be his sister, dontcha think?”

“Half-sister, if you must know,” she snapped. “We, uh, had different mothers.”

Oh, this was far too much fun. What little of her face was visible was turning from blue to purple. “Really? How’s that work, considerin’ he don’t even know who his father is?”

Her face was right up in Applejack’s so suddenly she almost toppled the chair over. “Oh, you think you know him, do you, you little hick? I’ve known him since we were kids! I grew up with him! Tell me one thing you know about him! One thing! I bet you can’t even do that! His favourite colour is yellow, he was born on June 10th, he hates the white streaks in his hair, he carries around a picture of his mother, and he makes noises like a dying caribou when he gets really excited! I bet you didn’t know that, did you?!”

“Actually, I did,” she answered. By now Flim was trying so hard not to laugh it looked like he was having a stroke. “But is that last bit somethin’ a sister would know about her brother?”

Her jaw dropped open, but it snapped shut again with a nasty grimace. “You tell me! I’ve heard the rumours about you!” Pointing at Applejack’s belly, she added “How do I know that isn’t because of your brother? And what about that little inbred ‘sister’ of yours, hm? I know what you mud ponies get up to---“

CRACK.

Her hoof was in the air, shaking. She didn’t realize what she’d just done until Flim’s hoof on her shoulder pressed her back into her seat.

The wig had gone askew when her head was slapped to the side, and when she slowly turned back to face them, her eyes were burning under a curtain of silvery hair. “You’ll pay for that.”

“Oh yeah? You gonna hit me, Trixie? You gonna fight me like you did that Ursa Minor?!”

“Fuck you! I could wrap you up like a napkin!”

“Then come at me, you racist bitch!”

“Ladies, that’s enough.” Flim leaned over as far as he could and put a foreleg between the two snarling mares.

“You stay outta this!”

“Applejack, sit your ass down!”

Well, shit! She was so startled she did so. That was the first time she’d ever heard him give her a direct order---well, aside from---

But Flim wasn’t paying attention to her, instead gesturing toward their guest. “And you, Trixie! Either apologize, right now, or get your ass out of here before I have to smack you into next week!”

She gasped, raising a hoof to her heart. “You wouldn’t hit a lady!”

“A lady? You really think you qualify for that kind of title? Now apologize!”

“I will not!” She stamped a back hoof, folding the arms of her sunglasses and slipping them over the twist in her cloak. “I stand by what I said, and so should you! Look at her. Pregnant, probably unshod, and I don’t see any sort of jewelry on her, do you? You should know better than to associate with somepony like that!”

“Oh, you’re a fine one to talk, little miss crawling-all-over-her-brother-in-law! Do you have any idea what that did to Flam? Do you?”

Trixie jumped back, looking even more hurt than when she was struck.

“No, of course you don’t,” he snapped. “Because if you really cared about anypony besides yourself, you wouldn’t have stomped all over his heart like that!”

“THAT WAS A MISTAKE!” She quickly turned her back to them, but they’d both seen the tears on her cheeks. “Honestly, I make one mistake in my life---“

“ONE mistake?!” they both shouted.

“I thought you were him,” she said, slowly turning. She’d done her best to wipe the tears away, but she wasn’t wearing as much mascara as she had been when she walked in. “And in answer to your question, yes, I do know what that did to him.”

“How could you possibly---“

She began to stride up to him, but a lot of the anger in her eyes was gone. “You wouldn’t know, because you were probably in the ambulance at the time, but after that dinner became a madhouse, I ran back into the dressing room.” She made her way around to the other side of the bed. “He followed me. I offered the ring back, but he didn’t take it. Do you know why, Flim? Do you?”

He scoffed and folded his forelegs. “No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”

“He said he wouldn’t need the money, because he was only going to live long enough to find a nice, tall bridge!”

The colour instantly drained off his face.

“I begged him,” she said in a very soft voice. “I was on my knees in the most expensive dress I’ve ever owned. I cried. I tried to bargain with him. Nothing worked! So I lied.” Trixie very briefly glanced up at Applejack, but then went back to staring at the bedclothes. “I-I told him I was pregnant. I said he didn’t have to love me, but he had to come back for the baby.” Another tear streaked down her face. “…He didn’t.”

Very cautiously, Applejack placed a hoof on Flim’s shoulder. He was shaking.

“I read the obituaries every day, just to make sure he didn’t---“ Trixie pressed her lips together, as if afraid to end that sentence. “But if he did, I decided I was going to join him. I couldn’t live with myself knowing I’d driven a pony to that.”

After a moment of silence, she tucked a lock of hair behind her shoulder and finished with “So, yes, Flim, I do know what that did to him. I know better than anypony.” She shot a look to Applejack. “You can think of me what you will, but I’m not a monster.”

They stared each other down for a minute, and then Applejack slowly eased her eyes over to the open door, and back again. Take the hint, bitch.

Celestia must have been smiling down, because she did. “To think,” she said on her way out as she tugged her wig back into place, “I come all this way just to visit you, Flim, and what do you do? You yell at me.” Pausing at the door, she called over her shoulder “You really don’t deserve a friend like me.”

“He certainly doesn’t.”

Applejack waited for the door to close fully before turning her attention to her lover. “Flim?”

He didn’t respond. He didn’t even look up.

Putting her hoof over his, she gently said “…Y’had no idea, didja?”

“I thought I’d lost him…” he whispered. “I had no idea I could have…really… lost him… I…”

When he finally lifted his head to look at her, she was shocked to see tears in his eyes. “Oh, sugarcube!”

He ducked out of her attempted embrace. “Applejack, get out of here. Now.”

“What? Why?!”

“I don’t…” He had both hooves over his face. “I don’t want you to see me like this. Please.”

“Hey.”

It took a few tries, but she managed to crawl her way onto the bed, straddling his legs, and lifted his chin. His eyes were still shining, but they’d gone wide when he saw the sweet smile on her face. “After all we’ve done together, y’think y’can’t cry in front a’me?”

A kiss on the cheek, and he crumbled. Applejack nuzzled against the head on her shoulder, rubbing the frog of her hoof up and down his spine, and gently rocked him back and forth. “Shh. Shh, now.”

“…And then she hit me!” Trixie wailed. “She’s so much bigger than me, and she just hit me! It’s going to leave a mark!”

“Sugarplum, it’s fine. You can hide it with makeup---“

“And everypony will think you did it, you know!” She kept sobbing as he lifted her head with his magic, wiped the strings of tears off his shoulder, and then tucked her chin back down. “They’re going to think you’re a wife-beater!”

“We’re, er, not married.”

“Flam, can’t we just leave?” She pulled back, her wet lips parted in a pout. “Pleeeease? We can take him with us and put him in a better hospital than this backwater one!”

He stroked her mane, trying his hardest to smile. “We’ve had this conversation.”

“But I haaaaate it heeeeere!”

“And we’ve had that conversation, too,” he said, watching her flop face-first onto her cot. Keeping Trixie from going from whining to a full-on tantrum was as delicate as brain surgery, and he distinctly remembered how hard she could punch. “Remember, I told you that if you go into Ponyville, even in that ridiculous disguise, you’re going to get yourself in trouble.”

“’Ridiculous disguise’?!”

Oh shit. Her screeches were climbing up towards an octave that only dogs could hear. “Well i-it looks ridiculous on you, of course. You really shouldn’t hide your beauty like that.” He nervously adjusted his tie. Good save.

“Flam, do you really expect me to wait around for whatever you have planned? How long is it going to take? I’m going to go crazy stuck in this caravan all day!”

Considering her history, that was a very real possibility. “I told you, just a little while longer. I only sent the telegram yesterday.” He peeked out the window at the noonday sun. “It’s a beautiful day outside. You could stroll around the country away from the city proper. And I bring you back magazines and newspapers, don’t I?”

“Oh, but they’re all the same!” She picked up the obviously-unread paper---save for the comics page---and began flipping through it. “Blah blah blah, Celestia does a ribbon-cutting ceremony, another pretentious article by Trenderhoof, some bland opinion piece---oh, look,” she said with a sneer. “You’ll never guess what they wasted the headline on.”

“Trixie…”

But she wasn’t listening. “Some stupid celebrity making a desperate bid for attention by coming out. In this day and age, nopony cares if you’re a coltcuddler! Why do they make a big deal ab…”

The rant petered out, and the look of snotty rage on her face melted away like ice cream in the summer.

Flam cleared his throat as he watched her pupils shrink. “Er, Trixie? Darling? What is it?”

She quietly folded the newspaper, but kept it out of his reach. “…Pookie?”

For some reason, that squeaked-out little pet name filled him with more dread than her entire hissyfit. “Yes?”

“You, um, may have to adjust your plans.” She smiled sheepishly. “Just a teensy bit.”

The First One's Free [clop]

View Online

The air in the town square was clean and clear, but it held the nippy undertones of the oncoming Fall. Applejack was loping along beside Granny, thankful that for once she didn’t have to remind her walking partner to slow down---her belly was feeling more and more taut every day, and she was sure the bowing in her legs wasn’t just her imagination. A few more months an' I'm gonna be waddlin', she thought. I'm startin' to feel like the Fat Lady in the circus! I'm gonna haveta hire somepony to hose me down---

A little warm trickle against her thigh made her wince, reminding her of the errand she’d foisted onto her grandmother. “Now, Granny, are y’sure this is okay? I mean, I don’t want you to feel embarrassed or anything---“

“Oh, I’ve been caught buyin’ worse. Don’t you worry about a thing,” Granny said, patting her elbow. “You go visit yer fella, and I’ll pick up yer... equipment.”

Applejack’s cheeks heated up. She was glad Granny had had the uncharacteristic discretion to not say ‘breastmilk pump’ out loud; it had been mortifying enough to be caught squatting in the bathtub, squeezing her teats into the drain. Thank Celestia it had been her grandmother who’d walked in and not Big MacIntosh!

“I’m a li’l surprised you started this early. Most mares don’t get their milk in ‘til later on down the road.”

Her ears drooped. So much for discretion. “Well, uh, the doc said the foal was big fer her age. Maybe that’s got somethin’ to do with it.”

“Could be. Y’know...” Her eyes got misty, which usually signaled the beginning of one of her stories. “Yer Ma was a regular Holstein when she was carryin’ yer brother. If she sat down wrong, she could squirt across the whole room! Almost hit me in the face once. That was before they had these fancy pumps, y’see, so she had to attach a funnel on the end of the garden hose---“

With an involuntary shudder, Applejack shrunk down in a mixture of embarrassment and disgust, and it took everything in her being to keep from screaming at the top of her lungs. “Granny!!!"

"What?"

She'd pulled her hat over her eyes. "W-why don’t we grab a bite to eat, huh?”

“I ain’t hungr---“

“I’m a mite thirsty,” she said, steering them towards Sugarcube Corner, and away from the gawking ponies who’d been unfortunate enough to overhear their conversation. “Let’s go see if Pinkie’s got some a’her famous punch. Whaddaya say?”

“Aw, I can’t turn down an offer like that.”

Anything to keep you from bringing up Ma’s teats again. “My teat. TREAT! My treat.” She sunk her molars on the insides of her cheeks as she held the door open. If Granny had caught that slip-up, she didn’t let on.

The place wasn’t busy, but there were a few ponies in line ahead of them. That was fine; she could use a moment or two to collect her thoughts. Applejack groaned quietly as she rubbed under the brim of her hat. Nopony told her that pregnancy could be so... so mortifying! Aggravating, sure. Painful? Of course. But things were starting to get downright cringe-worthy. Upon awaking she’d nearly had a heart attack when she found herself lying in a puddle, only calming down a bit when she noticed it wasn’t yellow. Her damn breasts had overflowed in the night. She’d been doing those ‘clenching’ exercises ever since she’d read her first book on pregnancy, so she hoped she could stave off any incontinence problems---but she still couldn’t keep the what-ifs out of her mind. What if I get hemorrhoids? What if I start leaking milk, and everypony can smell it on me? What if my blood pressure goes up, and I start having fainting spells? What if... what if I can’t do it? What if it hurts too much? What if---

Her train of thought ended abruptly when somepony cut in front of them. “Whoa!”

Granny chuckled and tapped the mare’s hip. “’Scuse me, dear,” she said. “Age before beauty.”

Without bothering to look over her shoulder, she shot back "Pearls before swine."

Applejack’s lips peeled back in a snarl. “HEY! You watch what yer sayin’ to my Granny!”

But the pony in front of them wasn’t paying attention. “Give me a black coffee and a daffodil sandwich.”

Mr. Cake’s eyes darted over the stranger’s back, and he flashed the two Apples an apologetic look. Turning back to his customer, he stammered “Ma’am, I-I believe you cut in front of---“

“Are you DEAF?” she shouted, banging her balled-up hoof on the counter. “Coffee, black! And a daffodil sandwich!”

“I’m talkin’ to ya!” Applejack rapped her hoof against the tiles, trying to get her attention.

“And make it fast!” she snapped as Mr. Cake fumbled around with the pre-packaged sandwiches in the cooler. “I have a family emergency!”

“That ain’t no reason t’go shoutin’ like that! Yer bein' rude!”

Applejack tried to move around this imposing pony, but she took a quick step to the side, keeping her stolen place in the line. That flattened her ears and set her jaw. No---too much was too much. Taking the obviously-dyed mane in her teeth, Applejack yanked back as hard as she could. “Ain’tcha got any manners? We---“

She whirled around with rage in her eyes. "Don't you dare fucking touch me, you bitch! Try that again and I'll have you booked for assault!"

She quickly clamped a hoof over Granny's mouth, but it was trembling. The mare she was staring at was vaguely pretty, but had clearly lived a difficult life, which was showing in the faint lines around her muzzle. Everything about her looked hard, rough. Familiar. She was styling her mane differently, and was wearing far too much makeup, but... Applejack recognized those eyes. Those old, sad eyes. She'd seen them before.

"S-sorry," she mumbled.

"Don't you apologize!" Granny snapped, shoving Applejack's hoof off her lips. "That mare ain't nothin' but trouble!"

She knew she had to choose her next words carefully. “Granny, you... you should take it easy on her,” she said slowly, watching her gather up her purchases with a huff. “After all, she’s probably under a lotta stress... considerin’ her little brother’s in the hospital.”

Although her back was still turned, Applejack could tell by the bristle up her spine that she’d hit the mark.

“That’s yer ‘family emergency’, ain’t it?” she pressed on. “Yer little brother’s hurt, an’ he’s got a bleedin’ disorder, right?”

The mare turned to face them, very slowly and deliberately. She was clearly shaken, but she held her ground well. “What did you say?”

"I said yer little brother's hurt, an' he's got a bleedin' disorder," she said, regaining her confidence. “And, uh... you got two brothers, dontcha?”

There were a few tense seconds of silence. Granny’s ears were usually droopy, but they’d perked up, her eyes shooting from her granddaughter to the stranger and back again.

Applejack tried not to look too smug. “They’re twins, right?”

Her painted mouth thinned as she pressed her lips together. “What’s it to you?” She’d said it haughtily, but that didn’t disguise the look of shock on her face.

With a good-natured laugh, she held up her hoof. “I was wonderin’ when I’d get t’meetcha. I’m Applejack...” When it became obvious the hoofshake wasn’t going to be returned, she lowered it to her belly. “An’ this here’s yer niece, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Unh!”

Trixie gasped as the last shreds of dreaming tore away from her, leaving her blinking and bleary-eyed on a chewed pillowcase. After a few grumbles, she pushed herself up on her forelegs, and stared at the bitemarks she’d left on her pillowcase. She squeezed her sticky thighs together in frustration. Dammit all! Why do I always wake up right before it gets good?!

It had been like this since puberty---no matter how hard she tried to stay asleep, her juicier dreams always ended right before the grand finale, making “flick the bean” her first morning priority. A muffled snore from behind her made her smile... sure, it wouldn’t be the Royal Guard gang bang like in her dream, but when it came to relieving her tensions, the stallion lying next to her had always proved to be up to the task.

She rolled over and nibbled on his ear. “Are you awake?”

Flam just mumbled something and pulled the covers around him, sliding them off her body. Trixie grinned when she saw the familiar shape tugging the sheets to the side; she didn’t know why stallions were prone to the Dawn Salute, but she didn’t mind a bit. Running her hoof over his hip and around to his belly, she purred in his ear “Wake up, pookie.”

He grunted and jerked away from her.

“I said waaaake uh-uuuup,” she sing-songed as she pushed her hoof lower. “Trixie has a surprise for you.”

“Mph.”

She toyed her hoof against his sheath. “I think you’ll like it.”

“S’too early,” he muttered.

“Flam,” she said, “I’m horny.”

He groaned and pulled the pillow over his head. “Five more minutes.”

Her mane ruffled as her ears pinned back. Nopony tells Trixie to wait! “Fine. Enjoy those five minutes...” She nipped at the nape of his neck, and pulled him back when he tried to roll out of her embrace. “...Because you won’t know what hit you.”

The first kiss was between his shoulderblades, which still tasted like the sweat from last night’s tryst. Her lips brushed down the bumps of his spine, one by one, until she reached his tail. A quick snap of magic and she’d swept it up against his haunches; while that did seem to rouse him a bit, she wasn’t finished. Prying him apart with both hooves, Trixie pressed forward, her snout buried between his cheeks, and laved her tongue up from his balls to his dock.

That did the trick. “Sweet holy Celestia, what---?!”

“Mmmnnn.” Up and down, and up again. “G’morning.”

Flam flipped himself over, but overshot a bit, doing a rotation and a half before landing face-first at the foot of her cot. “Trixie! What?! What are---what?!”

Her tongue was still poking out, so she blew a raspberry at him, giggling. “Didja sleep well?”

“Are you INSANE?!”

She propped herself up on a hoof. “I told you I was horny.”

“Trixie, there’s horny, and then there’s fucking certifiable!” he shouted as he righted himself. She couldn’t help but smirk when she saw him swiping his tail back and forth across his ass. “Do you have any idea what that particular part of my anatomy was designed for?!”

“Eating out?”

“Okay.” Flam put his hooves over his face and tugged at his sleep-sagged eyelids. “It’s officially too early for this.”

“Come back to bed,” she purred as she traced her hoof back and forth over the mattress.

He hesitantly took his place next to her, making sure to stay face-to-face. “No funny stuff.”

With a playful pout, she took his hoof in hers and pulled him in close. “I thought you said you had a good sense of humour.”

“Yes, but not at seven in the damn morning.” Flam’s eyes widened when one of his stifles brushed against her sex. “Sweet Sun above, you’re dripping like a honeycomb!”

“Luna was very good to me tonight.” She ground against him. “She gave me the most wonderful dream... five stallions at once!”

He laughed, pushing his face into the crook of her neck. “Trixie, you may be talented, but even you couldn’t take five stallions, let alone at once.”

“Oh, ye of little faith,” she said with a titter. His teeth were working on the sore spot he’d chewed on last night, and the added jolts of pain and tenderness were amping up her pleasure. “One in my mouth, one in my ass, one in my pussy, and one in each hoof. That’s five.”

He reached around to grab a big hoofful of her rump. “I still think that’s anatomically impossible. Wouldn’t at least two of the stallions be pretty much lying on top of each other?”

“Oh yes." She raised a cocked hoof to her mouth, poking her tongue against the opposite cheek in a gesture she'd learned years ago. "A few of them were having a go at each other while waiting for a turn with Trixie.”

Flam rolled his eyes. “I thought you said it was a good dream.”

“It was! I got to watch!”

“Why would you want to watch something like that?” he said incredulously.

By now her tongue-tip was worming around his hock joint, her frog gently massaging his balls. “What, stallion-on-stallion? It’s hot.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Oh, come on. You’d cream yourself if you saw Trixie with her face stuffed between some mare’s legs, wouldn’t you?” She smiled when his cock lurched up. “Thought so.”

“That’s d-different,” he managed. She was brushing her mouth against his groin, feather-light. Every now her lips would catch on his flesh, and the wet inner rims would tug at him, briefly forcing her mouth open, before she’d close it again and go back to those maddening little kisses.

“Different? Why? Because, unlike me, you’re too much of a coward to try it?”

Staring down at her, he breathed out “Wh... you mean you’ve...?”

“I have.”

He sat bolt upright, and she just barely had time to blink before his dick slapped against her face. “WHAT? Really?”

“Mm-hmm,” she said with a sloppy lick.

“When? Why did---WHO?“

“Oh, nopony you would know.”

He seized her shoulders and yanked her up with a yelp. Now that she was looking at his face instead of his cock, she could clearly see the curiosity in his eyes, shining under a layer of lust. “Tell me!”

Trixie grinned. Stallions were so predictable. “Well...” She gave his lips a little lick, and gasped when he sucked her tongue into his mouth. Apparently he either had forgotten where that had just been---or he just didn’t care anymore. After nuzzling her snout against his whiskers, Trixie ended the kiss with a slurp, pulling away and leering at him. “If you insist.”

“I do.”

That made her shiver a little---those two words... that was the first time she’d heard him say them out loud. It shouldn’t have been. She should have heard “I do” so many years before---but she quickly shook that thought out of her head. No matter. “She was a lowly little thing, far beneath Trixie’s usual standards---”

“’Standards’? So... you’re telling me you have a ‘type’ when it comes to mares?”

“Oh, Discord’s swollen nutsack, no.” She pressed her knees together, trapping his dick between them. “I’m no fillyfooler!”

“But you’ve slept with a mare!”

“Only in the loosest sense of the word,” she replied with a squeeze of her thighs. Her tail was swishing around, flicking in teasing caresses between his legs, and she moved it to curl around his perineum. “She was so pathetic... I let her go down on me, sure, but mostly out of pity.”

He seized one of her teats with a tight pinch of magic, and beamed when he saw her eyes briefly cross. “Was she good, at least?”

Trixie made a so-so motion with her hoof. “Decent.”

He was smirking, tugging at her nipple. “Not as good as me, though?”

“Pfft. She wasn’t in the same ballpark. Not even in the same solar system.” After buffing a hooftip against her chest, Trixie brought it up to her face to examine. “Let’s just say that you, my love, are a game of chess. She, on the other hoof, was more like checkers with a few pieces missing. You---“

She squeaked when he caught her by surprise, flipping her around and onto her back; she tried as hard as she could to not look too smug when she saw the dribbles of precum burbling from his cock.

“And? Keep going!”

“What, with the compliments or the story?”

“Either. Or both.”

She giggled as he began kissing her neck. “Let’s see, where was I? Oh yes...” Angling her head to and fro as he moved his wet lips around her throat, she stretched her limbs out, draping a foreleg around his shoulders. “You see, Trixie’s been around the block so many times they should have named a street after her by now, so this bumbling little farmer’s daughter was nothing too special. Still...”

Flam had moved from her neck to her chest, so he missed the brief flicker in her eyes. “She was... intriguing, at least. I’ll give her that.” She bit her tongue as she thought back to that first night, curled up in a ball on scratchy bedsheets, sobbing as she rubbed her aching muscles. The sound of her bedroom door creaking open usually made her wince, but that eerie monotone was so strangely soothing. However, she didn’t want to burden Flam with hearing about how many tears she’d shed during that back-breaking job. “She started grooming me, and, well, one thing led to another...”

“Like this?”

She shuddered as he pressed a tickling kiss against her pussy. “Mm. Indeed.”

He started a gentle licking, ducking his head a bit as she rolled to the side, her hindleg raised so as not to block his access; it wasn’t until he heard her dresser open and shut again that he lifted his head, and frowned at what he saw. “Oh, for Celestia’s sake, Trixie. Put those back!”

“Why?” she said with a little smile, and tugged a photo loose from the stack. “I told you I think stallion-on-stallion action is hot, didn’t I?”

“Put them back.”

At first it looked like she was about to do so, but instead she just placed them on top of her bedside dresser. She was still staring at the one she’d selected. “Why did you leave some with your brother, anyway? Did he want some ‘stroke material’ to keep him entertained?”

Flam looked between his legs. “Great. It’s retreating faster than a Prench army.”

Trixie sat up and turned the picture over. “This is my favourite.”

When he slammed his hooves over his eyes, she let out an exasperated groan. “Oh, come on. It’s not going to kill you!”

“That’s debatable.”

“Honestly, Flam. Look. This one doesn’t have any dangly parts showing.”

One hoof slowly lowered, but the eye underneath was still closed. “This isn’t a trick, is it?”

“Don’t you trust me?”

Oh dear---he could hear the beginnings of a sulk in her voice. Very gingerly, he let his hooves drop, and eased his eyes open one by one.

The photo was right in front of him, floating in her aura. She was right; it wasn’t explicit. In fact, had the context been a bit different, it could almost have been adorable. Almost. Flim was holding the camera in his hooves, blushing and laughing as Soarin’ lapped at his horn. Sighing, Flam levitated the photo back to the others on her dresser.

“See? I told you it was cute.”

“And you felt the need to show it to me because...?”

“It turned me on,” she said in his ear. Her husky whisper brought a bit of life back to his cock, as did her hoof rubbing slow circles on his belly. “That’s one of the reasons Trixie has always favoured unicorn lovers... the horn is just so much more fun to play with than feathers, don’t you think?”

He wasn’t sure how to answer, in part because he’d never been with a pegasus---and also because he knew the wrong answer might set off a tantrum.

But he didn’t have long to react---Trixie had hopped onto his lap, and planted her hot mouth on the base of his horn. “Mmm.” She grazed the surface with her teeth, which made that hss-hss sound she loved so much; when she reached the tip, she opened her lips and took him in.

“Guh!”

Flam wrapped his arms around her, gripping her waist with his fetlocks, and tried to angle his cock between her haunches---but just as soon as he felt his flare brush up against her sex, Trixie pulled off his horn, a thin string of saliva hanging from her muzzle. “No!”

“W-what?”

His dick slapped against his belly as she flopped off him. “Trixie isn’t in the mood for vanilla,” she murmured. Lots of practice made presenting an effortless task, and she had her winking pussy up in his face before he could make another grab at her. “Horn me.”

“What?!”

“Horn me,” she repeated. With an encouraging thrust of her hips, she said “I can tell you haven’t buffed it in awhile---it’s all bumpy and scaly.”

He put a shaking hoof to his horn, and flushed in embarrassment. With all the hubbub that had been going on, he’d forgotten to file down the overgrowth. “I... I’m sorry, I---”

“Just the way I like it.”

“Huh?”

“Fuck me,” she hissed. Running her tongue around her mouth, she could still taste the faint traces of his magic clinging there. “Fuck me with your horn. It’s so rough... Please...”

“Well,” he said, his voice trembling, “When you ask like that, how can I say no?”

She laughed when she felt the caress of his ears against her rump. “Good boy.”

Flam bit his lip. He wasn’t about to tell her about the time, four or five years ago, he’d tried this with somepony he’d met in a booze-soaked haze---nor did she have to know about the extremely awkward E.R. visit shortly thereafter. Oh well. He was sober now; his aim would be better. With a deep breath, he leaned his head down, and nudged the tip around until he could feel the warm moistness of her inner lips. “Tell me if it hurts.”

“You’re doing fine.” Trixie keened deep in her throat when he magicked her labia apart, sliding the first inch in, right up to the top flute of the spiral. “AH!”

“What? What is it?”

Lowering her hoof to the mattress, she shook her head and mumbled “N-nothing---I just didn’t expect you to be, uh, using it when---“

Oops. He wanted to jerk back, but didn’t dare risk it. “I’m sorry!”

“No, no. It’s fine.” She looked under her body, and flashed him a wide smile when they made eye contact. “It kind of felt like a vibrator!”

He cracked a grin, and pushed another inch inside. “You have a vibrator?”

“No, pookie. I don’t have ’A’ vibrator.”

Now he was laughing, and had to hunch his shoulders up to keep his head from shaking. “How do I compare to the competition?”

“Well, Trixie’s toys don’t flap their jaws when they’re supposed to be pleasuring her!”

She’d said it playfully enough, but he didn’t want to make her impatient. One final slide and his head was flush with her body; he brought a hoof to his mouth and sunk his teeth into it, trying not to squeal. Her hot, slippery walls were clinging to him, holding his horn in a wonderful silky embrace. “Y-you okay, sugarplum?”

“Oh, yesssssss,” she breathed, dragging the last syllable through her teeth. A little whine escaped her when his mane brushed against her clit. “This is just what I needed.”

He carefully pulled back, and they both laughed at the squelching sound that made. She was clutching him so hard that pushing back in was tricky; after a few stuttering attempts, he managed to sheath himself again, and teased her ass with flicks of his ears.

But she stopped him when he tried to repeat the process. “This isn’t going to work.”

“Huh?”

He was trying to pull out, so she clamped down on him, earning a loud yelp. “No! No, keep it in. But stop thrusting.”

“Was I doing it wrong?”

“Of course not,” she said soothingly, hiding her smile behind her hoof. Good gods, a stallion’s ego is so fragile! “Just... light it up instead, okay, pook---”

With an audible crack, her neck snapped right up like a whip, and she screamed up to the ceiling. It had been as sudden as a slap---he’d just filled her, shaken her up from the inside-out, sending rumbling vibrations up and down, from her lips to her cervix and back. “Wha...? Ah, ah hah!”

He smirked. “Bet your toys can’t do that.”

“Wha-ha-hat was that?” she squeaked.

Rubbing his frogs up and down her shaking legs, he shrugged and said “Nothing in particular. I just thought it might feel nice.”

Being so intimately connected, he could feel every heave of her body as she gulped her breaths. “You h-have to teach me how toAAAH!”

“Oh, brava! I didn’t know you could hit that note!”

“Don’t make fun of me, Flam! I---“

This time he sent the magic in two directions at once, and even under her scream he could hear the windowpanes rattling. “A little louder, sugarplum? I don’t think they heard you in Canterlot.”

Her head drooped back to the sheets, and her salty sweat dripped into her mouth as she snarled “Oh, you wanna play rough, do you? Well, two can play at that game!”

That gave him pause. Trixie tended to go a little off the rails when she was in a dominant mood---he would never be able to forget her creative use of a fly swatter and a roll of tape---but before he could mention the possibility of a safe word, a hot burst of her magic had kicked his hindlegs apart and yanked his tail up in the air.

“Are you familiar with the saying ‘she’s got you by the short hairs’?”

He didn’t have time to respond. She was already swirling his balls around like a pair of lucky dice.

When she heard his whimper, Trixie grinned triumphantly and said “Now, you keep those vibrations coming and your smart mouth shut if you know what’s good for you!”

“I certainly do,” he said as evenly as he could, but as he was gearing up to give her another blast, he felt something tickle up his perineum... and he had a pretty good idea of where it was headed. “Trixie!”

“Something the matter, pookie?”

He froze. If he pulled away now, she’d either yank him back in, or lay on one of her patented guilt-trips. He knew she’d never push him farther than he could go---she had an innate sense of his limits, for some odd reason---but whether or not he was prepared was another matter. “...You’d better be careful.”

“I always am.”

She sighed when he slowly rotated his head to the side and gave her thigh a sweet kiss. That was his way of giving her the go-ahead. He had reassured her many times before that he’d never hurt her when they were making love, and she had no intention of doing so, either. With as much focus as she could muster, Trixie formed a thin tendril of magic and, after a few steadying breaths, eased it inside him.

“Ahh!”

“Just keep breathing,” she whispered. “It’s okay.”

He was shaking, which jiggled his horn around inside her, but he’d stopped his magic. That was for the best; she needed to concentrate to get this right. It took a bit of prodding, but she finally found what she’d been after, and was rewarded with a cry of delight. “See? Doesn’t that feel nice?”

“Oh, Celestia,” he panted.

“That’s what it feels like when you’re inside me,” she said gently. “Please, keep going!”

She shrieked when he pulled his horn out of her, but he was atop her again in a flash, his weight pushing her down into the sheets. She was so soaked that the penetration was swift and painless, and she could tell by the tightness in his balls and the quivering flesh against her cervix that he was almost on the verge.

“You’d better make me come!” she shouted as he started frantically slamming inside her. The thin beam of magic was still connecting them, and she could feel his squeezing mimicking her own. “You better screw me right through this mattress!”

She wasn’t sure how he did it exactly, but he gathered whatever strength he had left in his lust-addled mind and sent a bolt of magic down between them, crackling their hides with electricity, and into his cock, sending it buzzing. Trixie’s eyes bugged; sweet Sun above, even his balls were vibrating! They were sending sparks from her clit straight into her brain as he bore into her over and over again, rutting her like a wild animal, the scruff of her neck firmly between his teeth.

“Flam, please!” The first twitches of her orgasm were already upon her. “Please! Just like that! Please!” One final curl of her magic against his prostate, and he was gushing inside her. The flood of warmth pricked tears behind her eyelids, and she shuddered underneath him as she came. “Ah—AH! Please! I love you, I love you!”

She wasn't sure what happened next---just that a warm, calming darkness washed over her, and she happily sunk down into it.

When she opened her sticky eyelids again, she was lying on her back, breathing heavily as Flam groomed her mane. “Whu...?”

He paused, his tongue on her ear. “Are you okay?”

She tried, and failed, to stifle a yawn. “Wha-what happened?”

“You blacked out, sugarplum,” he said with a gentle nicker.

“Really?” The feeling of his tongue in her messy mane was making her drowsy again. “...That’s a first.”

Flam smiled when she curled up against him, yawning again. “Ssh. It’s early. Just go back to sleep.”

“Mm-hm...”

He kissed the top of her head. “I love you, too.”

It wasn’t long before she was snoring, her breath ruffling his coat. Flam lay there for awhile, staring at the ceiling and absent-mindedly letting a hoof drift through her mane. That had been exhausting, but he wasn’t ready to go back to sleep; strange new emotions were clattering around inside his chest, and he wasn’t quite sure how to deal with them.

I wonder... was she as lonely as I was when we were apart? he thought, watching her chest rise and fall. Then he cracked a grin. I wonder how many toys she's accumulated over the years.

After checking and double-checking that she was safely asleep, he eased out from under her and ducked his head under her cot. Using his horn for illumination, he spotted something that looked like a dusty box, and pulled it out from its hiding place. When he held it up in the faint morning light, however, he realized he was holding an old photo album, Trixie’s name adorning the front in glitter glue, clearly done when she was just learning how to write.

Flam looked over at his sleeping lover, then back at the album. Oh, one little peek won’t hurt.

He smiled as he turned the pages. The photos became newer as Trixie got older; they went from a pile of baby pictures, many of her cutely sprawling on a rug or a quilt, to her first steps, to a pigtailed filly grinning a gap-toothed smile on what appeared to be her first day of school. The images of her unusually early cute-ceañera made his smile falter; Trixie never did have many friends, and despite a table full of enough treats for twenty or more, only three other fillies had shown up. The next page was surprising---she’d gone from a filly to a young mare in her teens with no pictures in between, almost as if she’d lost a few years’ worth of photographs. Interspersed with the photos were tickets and posters from her early shows, as well as newspaper clippings. Despite himself, Flam felt his heartbeat pick up when he realized he was looking at her in her high school years; that meant that he was only a few pages away from seeing pictures of them together. He knew he wasn’t a looker---he never had been---but, despite the awkwardness of his teen years, he thought he’d looked pretty sharp in those engagement photos.

The next page was blank. So was the one after it.

Frowning, he flipped through the rest of the empty album. She didn’t have a single photo of the two of them together. Not a single one.

He was about to slam it shut when something stuck to the back cover caught his eye. He pushed the overlying page back to examine it more closely, and immediately wished he hadn’t. Even after witnessing celluloid evidence of his own brother’s... flexibility, this had to top the list as the most disturbing picture he’d ever seen.

It was a family portrait. Trixie, still a young filly, was seated beside her sister and in front of her parents. She’d told him years ago that her father had died when she was very young, and that she didn’t remember him much. In fact, she’d barely said two words about him. So he couldn’t understand why she had felt the need to furiously scrawl all over his face with black ink, a slash of red drawn over his throat. She used to smoke in her teen years---he still caught her sneaking one from time to time---and from the looks of it, she’d used a lit cigarette to burn his eyes right out of the photo. With a trembling hoof, Flam turned the picture over. Over and over, the shaky letters overlapping one another, was written

I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU

He quickly flipped it right-side up again, staring at what was left of the stallion’s face. Without his eyes, and under all that ink, his expression was unreadable, but Flam did notice something surprising: he didn’t have a horn.

“She... she’s half-Earth...?” he whispered. It seemed to make sense---he’d always wondered how such a little unicorn mare could haul around a heavy caravan---but the realization was still jarring. Flam cringed when he remembered some of the things that could come out of her mouth when she was in her cups; she’d been thrown out of quite a few bars, especially if they had Earth pony bouncers.

He looked down at the little filly in the picture, and for the first time noticed her tight, forced smile---and the fear in her eyes.

“What in Equestria did he do to you?”

“I’m sorry I was so irritable,” she finally said, her eyes moving down to Applejack’s belly. “As soon as I got the telegraph, I-I caught a red-eye train all the way here. Didn’t get a wink of sleep.”

“Aw, t’aint nothin’,” Granny said with a forced smile. “Y’know, Applejack here used to be mighty cranky in the mornings. She used to have nightmares somethin’ awful. Woke her up three, four times a night---“

“How did you know who I was?”

Applejack hesitated and glanced at Granny. Normally being interrupted warranted a lecture about respecting one’s elders, but she was strangely silent. Turning back to their guest, she stammered “Uh, Flim showed me a p-picture of the three a’yes’. He told me a bit about you, too, and, um....” And what? You really are the ‘mean, conniving old harpy’ he described? “...And he’s good with words,” she finished lamely. “I recognized you right away.”

She nodded, and levitated her food over to a table. “Come. Sit.”

“Uh, sure.” Applejack cleared her throat when she remembered why they’d come in here in the first place. “We’ll, uh, jes’ get somethin’ to drink first.”

When they got to the counter, there were already two glasses of punch waiting for them. “It’s on the house,” Mr. Cake said with a nervous smile. “I’m really sorry about that. Normally we have a zero tolerance policy when it comes to cutting in line, ever since---“

Applejack held up a hoof. She’d heard the horror stories about Fluttershy’s minotaur-induced rampage. “I’m payin’, Mr. Cake. That wasn’t yer fault.”

“An’ we’ll make sure to keep a lid on that one,” Granny added as Applejack slid a few bits across the counter. Ducking her head, she whispered “So what’s yer take on her?”

“Uh... you always told me that if I didn’t have anything nice to say...”

They both peeked back at the mare, who was impatiently tapping her hooves against the table. She opened her purse, pulled out a package of cigarettes, and loudly cursed when she found it empty. “Well, one thing’s fer sure---she’s got a short fuse. Let’s not keep her waiting.”

“Maybe this is a good thing,” she whispered as they made their way back. “If Big Mac finds out she’s gonna be his sister-in-law, he might call this whole thing off.”

Granny tutted and shook her head. “We can only hope.”

After shuffling off her saddlebags, she slid the drinks from her head to the table, and put on her best smile. “So, uh, I’m Applejack---I think I said that already---and this here’s Granny Smith.”

Granny bobbed her head in a half-curtsey, plopping her saddlebags next to Applejack’s under the table. “Nice to meet you,” she lied.

She took a prim sip of her coffee. “I’m Contrarian. The boys call me Connie.” She must have caught Applejack’s little smirk, because she added “And if you think you have something funny to say about that, I can assure you I’ve already heard it.”

“It’s a... nice name,” she offered as she struggled into her seat.

Connie's eyes followed her awkward motions, lingering a bit too long on her teats. “How far along are you?”

“Five months.”

“That’s an unpleasant time,” she said, as if to herself. “Flim and Flam were quite destructive when their horns were growing.”

“Well, this one jes’ likes throwin’ things around,” she said with a smile that, like the earlier hoofshake, wasn’t returned. She’d noticed the confusion on Granny’s face, and made a mental note to explain later. “So, uh. Flim tells me yer a singer,” she said carefully.

“I am. I take odd jobs to fill in the gaps.” Her eyes drifted to the side. “It wasn’t easy raising two disease-ridden colts when you have to pinch every bit til it squeals.” They suddenly snapped back up to meet Applejack’s. “The twins are sick, Applejack. They always have been, and always will be.”

“I know.” It came out a bit more curt than she’d intended.

“Are you prepared to deal with that?”

Leaning back in her seat, she placed a hoof over her belly. “I’ve dealt with worse.”

“I’m sure you have.” Again, her gaze wandered off to the side. “Now, I’m not sure what your intentions are with Flim---“

“My intentions?” she said, her voice rising. “My intentions?! Mine have been nothin’ but good! I jes’ want what’s best fer all of us!”

She still wasn’t making eye contact, and now an irritating smile was starting to form. “How very noble of you.”

“Why’re you here?” she spat.

“Because my little brother’s in the hospital, and he’s knocked somepony up.” She took a bite of her sandwich, frowned, and threw it across the room, missing the garbage by a few inches. “That’s all Flam wrote.”

I’m gonna have to have a word with him, she thought with grim determination. “I hate to tell ya this, but neither a’them like you much.”

It was meant as an insult, but Connie just laughed. “You’re blunt. I like that.”

“I’m honest is what I am,” she snapped. “An’ I’m not sure what yer up to, exactly, but, well, speakin' of intentions, I hope yers are good! I jes’ want---“

“I know, I know, you ‘want what’s best’,” she said with a flick of her wrist and a little “pfft” sound from between her lips. “Here’s some free advice, sweetness: if you really want what’s best, raise the damn foal on your own.”

She slammed her hooves on the table and stood up on her hindlegs. “What’s that sposta mean?!”

Granny put her foreleg around her granddaughter’s shoulders, guiding her back into her chair. “Easy, now.”

“Exactly what it sounds like,” Connie replied. “Flim won’t make a good father, or husband, for that matter. He won’t be able to provide for you.”

“You don’t know that.” Her voice was wavering a little.

“Yes, I do. I know him better than you.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t know what the future’s gonna bring!”

Now she put her elbows on the table and leaned forward until she was so close to Applejack’s face that they could feel each other’s breath. Hers smelled like the saccharine sweetness of mint, with a hint of smoke below. “I mentioned taking odd jobs. Turns out singing isn’t my only talent. Do you know what raked in the most money?”

“No.”

“Psychic readings.”

She let out a caustic laugh. “Oh, please.”

“It’s true. I can give you one if you like.” She winked. “The first one’s free.”

“And what’re you gonna do?” She pointed at her purse. “You got a crystal ball in there or somethin’?”

“No, I don’t work that way.”

Applejack jumped when an unpolished hoof brushed against her cheek.

“I read ponies’ energies,” she explained. “Their magic, their auras, if you will. It all depends on how open they are... you have to let me in before I can work my wonders.”

It sounded like a well-rehearsed script, but she had to admit she did it well.

“Besides, I told you it was free. What do you have to lose?”

Well... that was a good point. Glancing over her shoulder at the half-filled shop, she mumbled “It won’t... y’know... cause a scene, will it?”

“No, not at all. It’ll look like we’re praying together.”

She exchanged an uneasy look with Granny. Praying? Had this mare ever prayed in her life? She wasn’t sure if she wanted to trust a pony with a hatchet for a cutie mark, someone who referred to her own kin as “disease-ridden”... but then again, she was making what seemed like a generous offer. Maybe this was her way of making up for her less-than-acceptable first impression?

“Okay,” she said, “Go ahead.”

“It’s not as simple as it might seem,” Connie said in a breathy voice. Her eyes were closed, her head bowed. “I’ll need some participation from you.”

“What---“

“Close your eyes,” her voice said in its lilting, dulcet tones. “Both of you. It’ll help if you both just close your eyes, and focus your thoughts."

She did as she was told, trying not to gasp when she felt her hooves being seized. All around her, she could hear the whirling, fluttering sound of magic, even though she couldn’t feel it touch her. The only contact they were making was between their clasped hooves.

“That’s it. That’s it... just take deep breaths, and just focus... Focus on Applejack. Send her energy to me.”

For some reason, her heart was starting to flutter, and the movement seemed to catch the foal’s attention. Applejack gulped when she felt a tiny hoof press against her ribs. She still wasn’t sure about this---but if it was for real, could Connie pick up on the foal’s ‘energy’, too? What would that even be?

“Hmmm,” she said from deep in her throat as she released her grip on Applejack. “Okay... I’m getting something. You can open your eyes.”

She cracked them open and waited, her breath snatching in and out of her chest. The glow of magic crackled and disappeared from Connie’s horn, and she released her hooves and sat back, chewing her lip as if mulling something over.

"You were born twenty-six years ago," she said with a faraway look, "In the Spring. There were white blossoms on the trees in your parents' orchard."

The little hairs on the back of her neck began to prickle, and she quickly smoothed them back down. Sure, she'd got her age spot-on, but to guess she was born in the Spring...? Well, she only had four seasons to choose from---that's probably just chance. Right?

"Aha!" Connie pumped a hoof in the air, as if she’d just discovered something amazing. "No wonder I had such trouble getting a read on your sign! You're a cusp!"

"A what?"

“You’re a cusp,” she repeated, leaning forward and again gathering Applejack’s hooves in her own, giving them a light squeeze. “Very rare.”

“But---“

“You were born at the cusp between signs,” she said as she carefully pulled away. She was smiling, and it looked oddly maternal. “Most ponies have one astrological sign, but you...? You have two!”

She could feel her ears darting back and forth against the rim of her hat. “What’s that mean?”

“You were born on the Aries-Taurus cusp. You have a very special blessing. You,” she said, jabbing her hooftip against Applejack’s chest, “Were born on April the twenty-first, just at the moment when the stars changed alignment in the sky. You are luckier than you believe.”

She tried to speak, tried to say something---anything---but she could barely breathe. That was just uncanny. She’d often wondered why her horoscope was different from paper to paper.

Connie kept talking, her sweet voice dripping like honey. “You have the temper and trusting nature of the Ram, as well as the deep emotions of the Bull. You also have the stubbornness of both.” She paused, tapping at her chin. “You have a very large, very wide circle of love surrounding you," she went on. "I suspect you have a big family, and some very close friends. However, that doesn't take away the hurt that you've experienced..."

"H-hurt?" she whispered. A quick look to the side, and she could tell that Granny was just as stunned as she was.

"Yes, the hurt." She closed her eyes, and traced her hooftip over her chest in a large loop. "There's a deep, dark aura hanging about you; I could sense it on you the moment I walked by."

Applejack glanced from side to side, as if it would appear for her, too. "What?!"

"Poor thing," Connie said quietly. "You've suffered a great loss, and it left a deep wound on your heart. Every now and then, when you're alone, you pick at that scab, even though you know it'll only make it hurt more. Did somepony die?"

Ignoring Applejack's little whimper, she finished with "A lot of ponies judge you by your appearance and demeanor, but you've got much more going on than just being a little hayseed. You go to the library on a regular basis, and you sometimes sign out some fairly complex literature. You're also an organ donor, which is quite generous of you. Oh, and you care a lot more about Flim than you'd ever admit."

The chair screeched against the floor as she pushed it back. "That's all I could read of you, sweetness. I hope you enjoyed it."

Applejack nodded numbly, watching the older mare as she slung her purse over her shoulder on her way out of the shop. She finally got her voice back just as she was about to leave: "Wait!"

Connie paused in the doorway, but she didn't turn around.

"Wait!" Applejack repeated. "Wait! I... you have to give me another reading!"

The unicorn laughed. "The first one's free, darling. After that, I have to charge you."

"I don't care! I'll pay!" She spared a glance back at her grandmother, and went on: "I... I have to know about the baby! And... please, tell me how it's going to go with Flim!"

"I can't tell you about the baby."

"Why not?!"

Now Connie did turn, and there was a weird smile on her face. "Because, sweetness, I'm not psychic."

Her legs were shaking, threatening to give out. "But... but how did you know about me...?"

"Call it a good guess."

"A good guess?!" she said, her voice raising into a shout. "You read me like a book! Y'can't look me in the eye an' tell me y'ain't psychic!"

"I just did," she said with a sickening grin.

She stamped her hoof. "Dammit! Tell me how y'did that!"

They stared each other down for a few moments... then, with a chuckle, Connie reached under the table, grabbed onto Applejack's bags, and then threw them back at her.

"Easy: I went through your saddlebags."

Her jaw dropped open when she inspected them; indeed, the clasps had been unbuckled, and her belongings had been rifled through. Her wallet was unzipped and lying open, her I.D. cards and family photographs scattered about.

“You...” she whispered, “You bitch.”

“And things with Flim are going to end in disaster,” she added as she sailed out of the door. “But you don’t have to be a psychic to know that.”

Rude Awakening

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WARNING: The last segment of this chapter includes VERY disturbing subject matter (although nothing graphic). Read at your own risk!

Spitfire used her teeth to open the plastic seal on the bag of ice, and carefully shook it into the bucket. The clattering was loud, but not enough to drown out the snoring from behind her. She absentmindedly drummed her hooftips against the porcelain as she held it under the sink, the cold water gushing over the ice cubes until they began floating to the surface. Once the bucket was full, she dipped her hoof in it up to the fetlocks to test the temperature---perfectly frigid---and picked the bucket up, balancing its heavy weight against her chest.

Then she dumped it over Soarin’s head.

“BAH-HAAAH!” he screamed as he spluttered himself awake, flailing and sitting bolt upright. “Wha?! Fuck, what?! Who?! I---”

“SOARIN’ FJADER BRISSON! AT ATTENTION!”

He managed to land on all fours even though he tumbled head-over-ass off the bed; long years of training kicked in and he greeted her with a shaky salute. “Y-yes, ma’am!”

But his knees buckled a second later, and he fell to the floor, clutching his stomach. “Urgh…”

She shoved the newspaper in his face. “Explain this!”

He blinked a few times. “Uh…”

“What the FUCK were you thinking, Soarin’?!” she screamed. “You better start talking, and NOW!”

The combination of the hangover and her eardrum-shattering voice were making his brain slam around in his head, and for a few moments he thought---or hoped---that he was still stuck in some bad dream. His eyes were blurry, but after rubbing the stickiness out of them, he finally noticed what his boss was referring to---after all, the headline was hard to miss.

BREAKING NEWS: Soarin’ of the Wonderbolts confesses!

“Speak, Soarin’! SPEAK! What is the meaning of this?!”

“I-I-I don’t know!”

“That’s not gonna cut it!”

“I really, really don’t know!” he spluttered, his wide eyes trying to read the text that was swimming in front of him. “I was drunk---I don’t remember---“

“Oh, that makes everything okay, I guess!” She rolled the newspaper up and smacked him across the face with it. “Do you know what was waiting outside my door this morning, you fucking half-wit?! A whole flash-bulb phalanx of reporters! Do you think that was pleasant to wake up to?”

He knew better than to say 'Better than a bucket of ice water.' “You hit me,” he whimpered.

“I had to shove my way through them, saying ‘No comment’ over and over again! You made me think they’d found another dead body!” She was pounding her balled-up hooves back and forth in the air. “This isn’t good for my blood pressure!”

He protectively curled a wing up around his face. “Trust me, I-I’m not really happy about this, either---“

“WELL BY ALL MEANS, LET’S MAKE SURE YOU’RE HAPPY, SOARIN’!” She seized the paper, stuffed the top edge in her mouth, and shredded it into a flurry of flakes. “FUCK!!”

“You’re gonna get ink all over your teeth again.”

“How could you do something so---so---so…“

She pressed her hooves against her temples as she fluttered to the floor. “…So brilliant?”

By now Soarin’ had scuttled backwards against the bed. “Uh… come again?”

“You know, this is kind of brilliant,” Spitfire said. Her voice was suddenly dry, as if a blaze had swept through her thoughts, leaving only burnt remains behind. “You managed to take the wind out of his sails.”

I’m dreaming, he thought as he clutched his hindlegs against his body in the fetal position. That’s the only explanation. I must be dreaming.

“Even if he does take the pictures to the papers, it’ll be yesterday’s news at best.” She seemed to be talking to herself. “It’ll be the Sapphire Shores sex tape scandal all over again… remember how her career catapulted after that?”

Yup. I’m dreaming. Either that, or I’m going crazy..

“All we have to do is play this to your advantage,” she went on, propping her elbows on the windowsill and staring down at the streets below. “We’ll wait ‘til you get over this hangover, and then line up some interviews. Some straight-up---no pun intended---and maybe one really teary one. You know, play up the whole sympathy angle, end it with a ‘be true to yourself’ message we could market. It could work.”

No, I’m not dreaming, he decided. I drank myself to death… and now I’m in Tartarus.

“And this isn’t bad timing, either. We’ve had some criticisms about the lack of diversity in our ranks. Poor Echo’s sick of being the token.” When she looked back at him, all the rage was gone from her face, leaving the professional façade she had practiced so well. “Not bad at all.”

Very slowly and tentatively, he uncurled his body. “So, uh… I’m not dead?”

Her snout was suddenly up against his. “Oh, you’re dead. You’re very, very dead---just as soon as I can figure out how to punish you. Capiche?”

“Yeah, I capiche,” he whispered.

“Good.” She paused in the doorway, and glanced back at him one last time. “Clean yourself up, Soarin’, and brush your damn teeth. You smell like Discord’s asshole.”

A full-body tremor shook through him as he watched the door close. Dear Celestia, what have I gotten myself into?!

“G’mornin’, sunshi---“

One step into the room, and already her smile was gone. Flim was sprawled out under the coverlet, snoring and sloppily smacking his lips, obviously in a deep sleep. “Aw, crap.”

Unbelievable! I gotta get up at the crack a’dawn, and this lazy pony can’t even be bothered to get up fer ten? She sunk her teeth into the side of the pillow and yanked it out from under his head. “HEY!”

He woke up a second after his face hit the mattress. “Wha---? Huh---?!”

Applejack frowned, watching as he tried to shake the sleep out of his eyes. “Dammit, Flim, I toldja yesterday I’d be here at ten!”

It took him a few seconds to get his bearings, and with a groggy voice he mumbled “Huh? What time is it?”

“Ten! The time I toldja I’d be here! Honestly, I don’t expect ya t’be all dressed up fancy fer me, but the least y’could do is be awake.”

“Oh.” Flim put his hooves to the mattress and shuffled himself into a sitting position. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said with a yawn. “I didn’t sleep a wink last night. I guess I must have drifted off.”

His uninjured eye did seem to be a little baggy. “Whatsa matter? Didja have nightmares?”

“No. The nightmare was in the other room,” he said, flicking a hoof over his shoulder. She returned his pillow, and he scowled as he fluffed it back up. “They brought in some crazy bitch after you left, and she spent the whole night screeching at the top of her lungs.”

’Some crazy bitch’? “Huh? Who was she?”

“I don’t know! Some lunatic! She kept throwing herself against the walls until they restrained her. Then she howled for the next eight hours straight about bugs and snakes coming out of the wallpaper.” He rapped a hoof against the wall. “In case you haven’t noticed, Applejack, there isn’t any wallpaper in here!”

“Oh, no,” she whispered. She only knew of one pony who had hallucinations like that. “Oh no… Oh, poor Screw Loose…”

“Her name is Screw Loose? Ha!” He flopped back down and folded his arms over his chest. “And here I thought Flam and I were the ones with the most appropriate names.”

She smacked his shoulder as hard as she dared. “Hey! Don’t you make fun a’her! She’s a friend a’mine!”

Turning to the open door, Applejack put a hoof to her mouth and started to nibble. She knew she’d probably walked over some manure on her way out of the farm, but it was hard to repress these nervous habits. “The poor thing! She musta gone off her meds.”

“Yes, and the rest of us had to suffer. They should lock ponies like her up.”

“Flim, you insult her one more time, and I’ll rip you a new one!”

He pulled away from her snarl, his eyes wide with fear---and then it dawned on her. She suddenly knew the perfect thing to say: “Yer bein’ a hypocrite, y’know! YOU gotta take meds t’keep from havin’ panic attacks. Yer brain ain’t perfect, either, so don’t you DARE think less a’her! She’s sick! She can’t help it anymore than you can!”

For a second it looked like he was about to go into one right in front of her---then his pupils returned to their normal size, and he looked away, blushing. “I… oh, gods. You’re right.”

“Damn straight.”

“Applejack.” The hoof he placed over hers was gentle, and shaking just a little. “You’re absolutely right. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m… sorry.”

They stared at each other, and seemed equally surprised by the concern reflected in the other’s eyes. It was Applejack who broke the tension, first with a peck to the cheek, and then with a murmured “I’m sorry too, sugarcube. I ain’t been havin’ a great day, either.”

“How so?”

“Well, t’start with, I hadta ask Granny to go buy, uh…” She nervously crossed her back legs. “A… a breastmilk pump,” she said, the last two words barely audible.

The corner of his mouth curled up. “Oh?”

“Don’t you go gettin’ any ideas, now,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “Yer meals are s’posta come on little plastic trays, not outta my teats.”

“Oh, come now. You liked it just as much as I did.”

She hadn’t yet sat down, so she shoved the chair to the side and leaned in to press her face close to his. “I said NO!”

“Applejack---“

“I’m more than jes’ a milk factory an’ a piece of ass, Flim!”

“Applejack,” he said again as he took her face in his hooves, “Of course you are. I didn’t mean anything by it.” He twisted his lips a little when he noticed she was still flushed and huffy-looking. “If that’s all I thought of you, we wouldn’t spend so much time just talking, would we? Now, come.” Stroking the side of her mane, he leaned his weight on his opposite elbow and patted the comforter beside him. “Sit yourself down. I’ve been waiting all morning for your visit.”

“Me too,” she said quietly.

“Besides, you can’t fault a hot-blooded stallion for getting a little dizzy around a beautiful mare, can you?”

She smiled faintly at the compliment, but her expression was wan. It wasn’t until she plunked herself on the creaky chair that she realized how much her hindlegs were trembling. He must have noticed it too, because once she was seated he placed his hoof on her thigh, and nuzzled his snout up against hers. “Is something the matter?”

“Uh… yeah, but…”

“But what?”

She’d been half-turned away from him, so she slowly eased her weight from one hip to the other, her haunches squeaking the cheap vinyl below until they were face-to-face, and she caught his flash of concern when he saw her expression. “Uh, I don’t wanna worry you, sugarcube, but, uh… I…”

“Don’t worry. You can tell me anything you want.”

“I--- I met yer sister,” she blurted, and pulled her lip between her teeth.

Her eyes darted around his face, searching for some adverse reaction, but Flim just nodded.

Gesturing over her shoulder, she stammered “A f-few minutes ago. On the way here.”

“Okay,” he said, his expression still stoic, “I’m waiting for the punchline.”

“There ain’t no punchline, Flim! She’s here! In fact,” she said with a glance behind her, “I’m surprised she ain’t here now. I ran into her at Sugarcube Corner---“

“Are you kidding me?” Then he pressed a hoof against his forehead, his eyes squeezed shut. “No. Let me rephrase that: you’re fucking kidding me.”

Applejack reached across his body and seized his hoof, forcing him to look up at her. “I ain’t kiddin’! Fer all I know, she could be headed here now!”

“Applejack.” He placed his other hoof on top of hers, and she could swear she felt a little quaver there. “I know you’re not one to lie, but---are you sure it was her?”

“Positive. I recognized her the minute I looked in her eyes. She…” She looked down at her saddlebags, and felt a shudder go up her spine when she remembered the earlier intrusion. “She did this trick---“

The side of his face pulled up in a sneer. “Oh, let me guess. ‘The first one’s free’?”

“Yeah, exactly! Made me feel dumber’n a rock in a diamond mine!”

“Don’t feel too bad about it. She does that to everypony,” he muttered. Then his eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Wait a minute---why is she here?! How did she know where we were?”

“Flam sent her a telegram.”

“Really.”

“Uh-huh.” She felt a little justified when she saw that he looked as pissed as she was.

“Well, fine. That’s fine,” Flim said darkly. “I’ll just shave his moustache off in his sleep.”

She had to chuckle at that. “You know how I got back at my brother once? I switched his magazines with Granny’s.”

The sour look on his face was already gone. “Applejack, if you mean what I think you mean---!”

“Oh yeah. He sure was shocked when he got out the lotion, reached under his mattress, and found ‘Quilters’ Quarterly’ instead,” she said with a huge grin. “Granny’s reaction was pretty funny, too.”

“I didn’t know you were such a sadist!”

“He deserved it. I snuck in after curfew, and he squealed on me.”

“I’ll have to remember not to get on your bad side,” he said, pressing his frog against her cheek.

“Y’ain’t doin’ bad so far,” she replied with a nuzzle. “In fact, I gotta say… I’m pretty impressed.”

“I try.” They smiled at each other for a moment before the affection in his eyes shifted back to concern. “Er, did you just come here to tell me the bad news?”

“Nah. I mean, I did think y’oughta know, but, um…” Her cheeks were heating up. “I kinda jes’ wanted t’feel yer arms around me,” she finished, her voice shy and hushed, leaning forward off the chair and onto the mattress.

“You took the time out of your day just to hold me?” he said as he helped her onto the bed, his hooves around her ribs and his magic cradling her belly.

The mattress groaned as she laid herself down, and she tucked herself around him. Their forelegs entwined easily, as if they’d been lovers for years, not just days. “Uh-huh.”

Even though his chin was on her head, she could sense him smile. “You’re such a sweet girl,” he sighed.

“I---“

The curtain rings screeched as it slid against the rod, making them both jump. Flim chuckled and clutched her tighter.

“I don’t think I’m ever gonna get used to that,” Applejack said with a weak laugh.

“Did you see the spark this time?”

“Nope. I wasn’t lookin’.”

“It’s a pale yellow,” he whispered against her mane. “It’s beautiful.”

She looked down at her belly; this time, she’d actually felt something burbling inside her when it had happened. Were the surges getting stronger? “How long’s this gonna last?”

“I’m not sure,” he replied. “You should ask the doctor.”

She opened her mouth to say something, but instead released her breath in a quiet puff when she felt the tip of his tongue on the roots of her hair. “Y’think she’s tryna tell me somethin’?”

“I have no idea.”

He was nudging her with his knee, and she shuffled around, lifting a hindleg to let him slip his thigh between hers; but instead of grinding, as she expected him to do, he just slid it up against her body and left it there. It felt like he was trying to deepen their embrace---not pushing, not insistent, not demanding. Just sweet. She squeezed him with her legs, sighing as he groomed her.

“Can I tell ya somethin’?”

“Of course, sweetheart.”

“I…” She wetted her lips before placing a little kiss on his neck. “I miss you.”

He paused, his tongue sticking out of his open mouth. She could feel it pressing against her scalp. “What do you mean? I’m right here.”

“No, I mean I miss you at night.” Her tail swished over her hips and came to rest on his cutie mark. “My bed feels so empty without you in it.”

“I know the feeling.” His head craned up as he looked at the ceiling. “I hate being in the hospital. It’s just so… so cold and sterile.” Then he kissed her forehead, and went back to grooming. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I look forward to your visits.”

She could barely believe what she was saying, but the words came out of her unbidden: “I s’pose if we got married, we could… y’know… do this all the time.”

“…What?”

“We could wake up like this every morning,” she said softly as she hugged him closer. “We could make love every night, and, uh, you could nurse on me all ya want.”

“Are you… changing your mind?”

“No,” she said, even though it felt reluctant. “I’m jes’ sayin’… I mean…I don’t mean… I think…”

“Applejack, just say it. I’m not going to judge.”

She filled her lungs and held the air there for as long as she could---and then pushed out in a rush “Flim, I think I’m fallin’ for ya.”

She quickly closed her eyes and pressed her muzzle against his chest. For a few long seconds, all she could hear was her pounding heartbeat, ricocheting against his. Did I just say that out loud?!

Finally, Flim pulled away enough to look her in the eye. “Don’t,” he said.

She could feel her guts crawl up into her throat. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t fall for me,” he repeated. “You’ll get hurt on the way down.”

Applejack’s lips parted, but nothing came out of her mouth. Before the gears in her brain could start rolling again, a loud shriek startled them as it echoed down the hallway.

“EEEAH-AAAAAAAH!!!”

“Great. There goes your friend again,” Flim muttered.

Her ears immediately snapped back. No. That wasn’t Screw Loose’s voice. Loosey had a rough, smoke-hewn alto---but that, THAT voice, was a wailing soprano. A voice Applejack had heard many times before.

“Berry!” she screamed, and took off out the door, even before Flim could call to her. She went skidding into the hallway, her shoulder bumping against the opposite wall. “Let me in!”

The two nurses at the door jolted in surprise, and one of them put her forelegs out to hold her back. “Ma’am, we can’t---!”

“She’s my friend!” she shouted, throwing herself against them, trying to get at the door. “She needs help! Please!”

“We can only let family memb---“

“Dammit, she’s my FRIEND!”

The younger nurse, the one with the pale coat, managed to pry Applejack’s hooves off the door with her magic. “Ma’am, our patient is suffering considerably! We can’t let you in.”

“But---“

“She’s in no state to see you!” she shouted as she used the heft of her body to push Applejack away; her back hooves scuttled against the tiles before shooting out from under her, and she sat down heavily, squashing her dock underneath her so hard she groaned in pain.

“Oh my goodness.” Instantly both nurses were at her side, one of them sliding her forelegs around her back to help her up, the other frantically running her frogs against the swollen belly. “Ma’am, I am so sorry! I didn’t mean to make you fall!”

She squirmed to the side, grimacing. “Getcher hooves off me!”

“Good. The fetus is still moving,” the young nurse told the other. “But we’ll still have to check for spotting---“

“DON’T TALK ABOUT ME LIKE I AIN’T HERE!” she roared, and with one final thrust of her forelegs, she managed to dislodge them both. She was shaking far too badly to stand up, so instead she leaned her spine against the wall, taking breath after brittle breath.

The nurses watched her draw her knees against her body. Then one of them began with “You should---“

“Leave me alone.” Applejack folded her arms over her belly, and then rested her head on them. “Leave me alone. Jes’ leave me alone.”

They exchanged a nervous look, and the younger one excused herself after her superior gave her an affirming nod. Making sure to keep enough distance, she lowered herself to Applejack’s level, and gently told her “For what it’s worth, I’ve seen this before. Your friend will be out of the I.C.U. in a day or so. You can visit her then.”

She didn’t look up.

“And I’m sorry about my colleague; she’s still a greenhorn, you know? I could tell that you landed on your hindquarters, which means the fetus should be fine. Still”---she patted Applejack’s shoulder and quickly withdrew her hoof before it could be swatted away---“You should get a quick check-up, just to make sure.”

“Leave me alone.”

She waited until she couldn’t hear the nurses’ hoofsteps any more before lifting her head. She didn’t dare go into Berry’s room, and she wasn’t sure if she was ready to go back to Flim’s, either.

“Damn,” Applejack whispered through her tears. “Oh, damn, damn, damn.”

“Are you going to go visit Flim again?” Trixie asked, one hindleg lazily swinging back and forth off the side of her cot.

“Of course. But I want to check the post office first.”

She smirked as she watched him put the final twirl on his moustache. Even before he grew it, Flam was the only stallion she knew who spent more time primping in the morning than she did. “Still waiting to hear from Her Royal Cuntiness, are you?”

The back of his mane ruffled a bit, but he kept a straight face. “Yes, and don’t call her that.”

“Why not? You should be the last one defending her! Why, she broke out your---“

“I know. I was there.”

“And didn’t you tell me she locked Flim in the boiler room for six hours?”

A less-observant pony would have missed it, but she’d seen the way the edge of his jaw seemed to clench. “Seven, actually. And only because he flooded the kitchen.”

“You’re taking her side on that?”

“Trixie.” Flam turned from the mirror, his eyebrows knit. “I’ve asked you before not to badmouth my family.”

She got off the cot and sauntered up to him. “Oh, fine. But you know Trixie holds grudges against anypony who hurts her pookie.”

Just as she knew he would, he huffed and blushed as she squeezed his cheeks together. “Stop it!”

“Speaking of your family…” Trixie trotted her way around him, making sure to brush against him with little caresses of her tail, “Do you approve of your brother being all chummy with what’s-her-face?”

The way his leg jerked up assured her her teasing was starting to have an effect, but he still sounded cranky. “You know I don’t.”

Her tail hit his side again, but it was starting to lash back and forth. “I still can’t believe it. That little inbred bumpkin hit me---she HIT me right across the face!---and Flim he, he just sat there! No, he did worse than that---“

“Trixie…”

“Not only did he let it happen, but he told me to apologize! Me! Trixie! Oh, I’m going to get her back for that, and you know I will, Flam!”

He dodged her hoof as she gesticulated. A prickle of sweat was starting under his collar; he wasn’t sure how, exactly, but somehow she’d gone from zero to conniption fit in the time it had taken him to knot his tie. “Sugarplum, maybe you should take a few deep breaths---“

“Does she really think Trixie will just lay down and let some--- some dirty little mud pony tread all over her?” She tossed her mane over her shoulder. “Ha! The day I sit back and let some silt-for-brains strike me---”

“Okay, stop. Trixie, stop.” She was still pacing around, but he’d seen the way her ear twitched. That meant she was listening, if only half-heartedly. “We have to talk about that.”

“About what?”

Flam took his hat off and pretended to adjust the brim as he tried to figure out how best to handle this. “You… aren’t happy here…”

“Well no fucking shit!”

“I know you don’t like Ponyville,” he said carefully, “But it was founded by Earth ponies, and if you keep talking like that, you’re going to get yourself in a lot of trouble---“

“Trouble? Hah! You don’t know the meaning of ‘trouble’!”

“Remember that swanky bar in San Broncsisco?”

That seemed to catch her off-guard. “Which one?”

“The one that you last saw upside-down as you were being thrown out the back door,” Flam said in a grim voice. “Remember now? I came sailing out a second later, even though I was trying to apologize to the Earth pony bouncer!”

“That place was a dive!” she shouted. “They didn’t deserve our business!”

“That may be, but they also didn’t deserve to be called a ‘bunch of illiterate clay-brains’, either!”

“Oh, Flam! she said in exasperation, “Haven’t you heard of ‘freedom of speech’? I’m allowed to say what’s on my mind, especially when I have to deal with somepony who eats with the very hooves they’ve been walking on all day! It’s disgusting!”

“Trixie, it’s rude!”

“When are you going to get it?” she tutted with a pitying shake of her head. “We’re unicorns. We were created this way for a reason.” Her eyes lit up as something dawned on her: “Speaking of reasons, give me one good reason---ONE reason!---why I should have to tolerate somepony below my station!”

“Windigoes,” he deadpanned. “That ring a bell? Big, scary ice horses who bring about worldwide starvation because of racism?”

“Oh, pfft. Aren’t you a little old to be believing in Hearth’s Warming stories?”

His ears pinned back, and he felt his nostrils flare as he shot his breath out. He was planning on saving his trump card for later, but this was just getting unbearable. “Okay, how about this reason: you’re a ‘soil-stain’ yourself!”

Her hoof skidded out from under her, and it was only a quick shuffle that saved her from falling over entirely. When she turned around, it was very slowly, her hackles all bristled up. “Wh… what?”

“Trixie, I know you’re half-Earth,” Flam said gently. He had expected her look of shock, but her shining, wavering eyes were making his chest feel tight. “I don’t know why you hid that from me for so long.”

Seeing as she was still frozen in place, he took a tentative step towards her, hoping his little smile would show under his facial hair. “Sugarplum, you have to know that your words don’t just hurt Earth ponies. Whenever you say something like that, I feel a little sting, too. I never knew my father… for all I know, I could be half-Earth.”

A squeak left her throat.

“At least you got to meet your dad,” he sighed. “Do you know how lucky you are?”

“…Lucky?”

“Yes, lucky.” Now that the distance was closed between them, he let his hooftip trace along her cheek. Her coat felt hot, her blush glowing right through it. “I’m sorry, but… when you were sleeping, I found your photo album.”

The look of horror on her face grew as he magicked the offending item out from under the bed. “Y-you went through my stuff?”

He laid it down between them, but decided not to open it to the last photograph. “I didn’t mean to pry,” he said as he lifted his hoof to her mane, running the silky strands around his fetlocks. “I just happened to notice… I mean… you had this family portrait---“

She smacked his foreleg away. “You went through my STUFF?!”

“Trix---“

“How dare you! You nosy, prying little bastard! You had no right---!”

And just like a blade through cloth, her voice shredded into nothingness as she choked on the last word. Her whole face, from her chin to her eyebrows, knotted into a grimace, and she whipped around on the spot.

After staring at her for a few seconds, Flam shifted his weight from hoof to hoof, unsure whether to step forward to comfort her, or to flinch back. He could usually read her well, but when she had her face turned away, he had no way of knowing what was going on inside. “I’m sorry, sugarplum.”

She didn’t respond, but he could hear her tight, quick breaths.

“I truly am. I didn’t think---I wasn’t thinking.” He gave her enough time to reply, but when she didn’t, he went on: “I just don’t understand it, Trixie. If you’re half-Earth, why do you say such nasty things?”

Nothing.

“I, er, I don’t think any less of you, you know. You know you can tell me anything, right?”

Still nothing.

“Why are you so angry, Trixie?” Flam said. He hated to hear the pain, the sadness in his voice. “Can’t you let me in enough to help you?”

Her head lifted, just a bit. But she was still silent.

“Trixie… I love you.”

When she began to speak again, her voice was quiet. Dangerously quiet. “Flam, you were a virgin when we met. I wasn’t.”

Had he heard a tremor there? “Sugarplum, you know I’d never hold that against you. I don’t judge---“

“LET ME FINISH!”

She hadn’t turned, but she’d heard a couple of shaky, retreating hoofsteps. After taking a few breaths to calm herself, she continued in that eerie, hushed tone: “You asked me once who my first was. I said I didn’t remember.”

Even though she couldn’t see it, he nodded. He had thought that was kind of odd---who wouldn’t remember their first lover?

Flam continued to stare at her back. Her ribs were slowly moving in and out with her breaths. A full minute stretched on before he cleared his throat---and, with the sudden, shocking speed of a tornado, she grabbed the photo album in both hooves, tore out the family portrait, and shoved it in his face, his eyes perfectly lined up with the burned-out holes where her father’s used to be.

“ASK ME AGAIN!” she screamed. “ASK ME AGAIN! ASK ME WHO MY FIRST WAS! ASK ME WHO TOOK THAT FROM ME! ASK ME, FLAM, ASK ME!!”

He sat down with a thud when, like a cold shudder, the horrible realization wormed its way inside him. “Oh… Oh, Celestia, no…”

Her voice dropped an octave, imitating a stallion’s: “’Oh, don’t you worry, honey, Little Bea just had another one of her nosebleeds. That’s why there’s blood all over her FUCKING BEDSHEETS!’” She seized the album in her magic and sent it crashing against the wall. “Do you get it now, you son of a bitch? Do you get it?!”

“I didn’t---Why---“

“Yeah, go on! Keep asking me questions, Flam, because I would so love to relive every. Last. Detail! It’s not like I spent my entire life trying to forget!!”

“Trixie!”

He tried to reach for her when she burst into tears, but she slammed past him and out the caravan door. “Trixie, wait!”

She was running faster than he’d ever seen before; he’d barely made it out the door, and she’d already crested the nearest hill, her tears blowing back into her mane.

“Wait! Trixie, I’m sorry! I---“

The blow to his shoulder caught him totally off-guard, and before he knew what had happened he was staring up at the sky, the grass tickling his back. “What the---?!”

“Let her go.”

He tried to sit up, but a sturdy elbow pressed against his chest and forced him back down. “I said, let her go.”

Flam started to thrash. “Piss off, you bitch! This is none of your business!”

“Isn’t it?”

“No!” he shouted as he rolled away from his attacker. “And if you tackle me once more, I swear to Celestia I’ll have your head!”

“Why?” she said simply as she yanked at his ear. “After all, you were the one who sent for me.”

Their eyes finally met, and Flam could feel his heart drop into his bowels.

“Damnation, Connie,” he mumbled, closing his eyes. “You really do have the worst timing.”

That's My Girl

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“This seat taken?”

Trixie looked up, surprised, but when she saw Flam standing behind her, she let her eyes wander back to the river. Her face was slack, emotionless, but her eyelids were red-tinged and puffy. He recognized that look; she’d cried herself dry, like a wrung sponge, and was trying to recuperate. She halfheartedly made a move to conceal the open pack of cigarettes under her tail, but he’d caught the scent of cheap menthol from downwind.

Flam stepped a little closer to her---not quite touching---and folded his legs underneath him, lowering himself down to the riverbank. They sat like that for a few long, silent minutes, watching the water burble and eddy past the outcrop of stones.

“I knew I’d find you somewhere along the river,” Flam finally offered, not daring to make eye contact just yet. “I remember you telling me, years ago, that whenever you felt overwhelmed, you’d find a body of water to sit next to.”

She shifted a bit, adjusting her position.

“You… you told me that whenever something upsetting popped up in your head, you’d throw a twig or a blade of grass onto the surface, and watch the current carry it away. That’s how you learned to let your bad thoughts go… just like leaves carried away by the river.”

He could tell by her ears that she was at least paying attention to him, but her tail was flicking about just enough to make him sure to keep his distance.

“I’m sorry, T---“

“NO!”

She was up on her hooves in a flash, and Flam recoiled when he saw the fire in her eyes. “No,” she yelled at him, “No, don’t you dare! Don’t you DARE feel sorry for me!”

“Tri---“

“You have NO IDEA what it’s like!” Her voice was already shredding. “NO! IDEA!”

He held one hoof up. “I-I---of course I don’t---“

Her hoof cut through the air. “So save your breath, Flam! I don’t want to hear it!”

“I…. was going to say I was sorry for looking through your photo album,” he mumbled.

Trixie’s mouth opened in surprise, but all that came out was “…Oh.”

“I didn’t realize how sensitive this subject was for you,” he said as he watched her lie back down. “Maybe… maybe, for the time being, we can just agree not to talk about Earth ponies…?”

“Oh, talk about them all you want. I just won’t share my obviously unwanted opinions.”

This wasn’t going the way he’d hoped, so he tried a different tactic: “Did you know Applejack’s having a unicorn?”

She cocked her head. “She is?”

“Yes, they confirmed it with an ultrasound.” Flam pushed his hooves back and forth. “A unicorn born into a pure-Earth family.” He cleared his throat. “You know, I think you’d be a good mentor for that little filly.”

“Applejack has unicorn friends,” she said. Her sneer just deepened when she realized she had to correct herself: “No, one unicorn friend, now. I’m sure that prissy bitch will mentor the kid just fine.”

“Not like you! You could teach her what it’s like to be, er, mixed-tribal. Teach her how to use her magic and her strength.”

She shot him a look. “Why do you care? What’s she to you?”

He hesitated before saying ’my niece’. Trixie had taken such delight in thinking she’d ‘seduced a coltcuddler’, and he didn’t think her ego was ready to take a blow just yet. “Well, er, Flim’s taken a real shine to Applejack, and… if they stay friends… you know…”

“No, I don’t. That kid’s nothing to me, and she shouldn’t be to you, either.” She narrowed her eyes. “Unless you’re trying to tell me you’re ‘taking a shine’ to Applejack, too.”

“No!” he said quickly. “Not at all. I only fall for pretty magicians who find creative ways of waking me up.”

She just re-crossed her ankles, refusing to take the bait. “Is that why you came here? To ask me to be the token half-breed nanny for some hayseed’s bastard child?”

“Trixie! No, not at all.” He reached for her, but withdrew his hoof when he saw her coat ruffle up. “I was worried about you, sugarplum.”

“Then why did it take you so long?”

“Well, it took me awhile to find you---and, er…” Flam scratched under his ear. “Connie came by right when you ran off.”

“Oh. I see. So spending time with your beloved big sister’s more important than me?”

Gooseflesh rippled up his neck. Trixie was usually so theatrical---this dull, flat new voice coming out of her mouth was starting to give him the creeps. “No. No, of course not, sugarplum. But…”

“But?”

“I’m a stallion. We’re not very good at dealing with crying mares. I needed another mare’s advice.”

“Connie can’t stand me,” she intoned. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she told you to steal my caravan while I was gone.”

“She doesn’t… hate you,” he said carefully.

“She said I did a very good job picking a wedding dress that could hide my ‘pudge’.”

Flam winced; the rehearsal dinner had been worse, of course, but that dress-fitting appointment was almost as bad. He’d been too busy comforting his wailing fiancée to break up the catfight that had broken out between his sister and Mrs. Lulamoon. “She regrets that, you know.”

Trixie just snorted.

“She told me you’d need a good cry and some time to yourself before you’d be ready to see me again.”

A full-body bristle ran up and down her spine. “You didn’t… you didn’t tell her…about my…?”

As gingerly as if he was touching nitroglycerine, he placed his hoof over hers. “No. That’s your story, not mine; it wouldn’t be my place to tell.”

Her horn began to glow, and he steeled himself, ready for a swat---but instead she shook a smoke loose from the pack and lit it with her magic.

“Speaking of which, I… I’m sorry for putting you on the spot like that. I shouldn’t have pushed you so hard. I had no idea y…” The sudden stab of emotion in his throat made him want to turn away from her, but he held still, wanting to be able to meet her eyes should she look up from the water. His hoof was still on hers, so he pulled her a little closer. “Trixie, sugarplum. Please look at me.”

She didn’t. “You still have your shit in my caravan, don’t you?”

That gave him pause---that, and the beginnings of thunder in her eyes. “Well, yes. Why?”

“You have ten minutes to clear it out.”

“Wh---”

“I’m leaving,” she said. Her lips were barely moving. “I’m leaving this shithole of a town, and I’m leaving you. Ten minutes, Flam.”

“What?!”

He tried to grab her hoof as she tossed the cigarette into the river, but she whisked herself away from him. “Trixie, wait! Please, wait!”

She wasn’t going to, he could tell that already. He made another grab, this time for her shoulder, but she dodged him again. He had longer legs, but she’d always been the faster runner; he knew he wouldn’t be able to catch her if she broke into a gallop. “WAIT!”

“No! Leave me alone!”

In desperation, he hooked his fetlocks around her ankles and yanked. Trixie fell onto her stomach with a squeak; kicking out behind her wasn’t working, because he’d crawled up her body, almost as if he was mounting her, his chest pressing against her shoulder blades. “Wait!”

“Let me go!”

“Trixie, please!”

The breath left her lungs with an “Oof! as he wrapped his forelegs around her ribs. She tried to headbutt him from behind, but her mane went swinging into empty air. His cheek was pressed against hers, and she wasn’t sure whether the wetness smearing around there was hers, or his, or both.

“Let me go!” she screamed.

“No! I’m not letting you go again!”

“Dammit all, Flam! What do you want?!”

“YOU!” he shouted, right in her ear. “I want you! Can’t you see that?”

She immediately stopped struggling, and her body crumpled under his. Flam adjusted his position so as not to put too much weight on her heaving chest, but he made damn sure to keep his arms tight around her. “W-what?”

“I said…” He had to pause to catch his breath. “I said I want you, Trixie.”

She began squirming underneath him, but she wasn’t trying to get away anymore; she was rolling around in his grip. “No,” she whispered, “You don’t.”

“Yes, I do!”

“No you don’t!” She ducked away, but Flam used the side of his face to nuzzle her, wiping the tears out of her coat. “Flam, stop it!”

“I’m not going to let you go until you calm down! You’re talking crazy, Trixie!”

“I’m not CRAZY!”

By now she was sobbing, her body shuddering from the force of it, so he let one arm relax from its deathgrip, and slid a hoof up to her face. “Ssh.”

He rolled onto his side, and tenderly pulled her with him. She didn’t have the strength to resist anymore, and wept into the starched folds of his collar as he gentled her, rubbing her back and brushing his frog through her mussed mane. “Shh. It’s okay, sugarplum. It’s okay.”

“No it’s not! It’s not okay!” she said, her voice muffled by his shirt. Turning her head up so she could look him in the eyes, Trixie hiccupped and stammered “I-I can’t---you---I can’t---“

He pressed his lips against her trembling mouth, and after a moment, she returned the kiss, but they were both being careful. When she pulled back, she looked more fragile than he’d ever seen her before.

“Flam.” The arm she had draped around his body was shaking, as if she couldn’t decide whether to pull him closer or to shove him away. “Y-you’re a good stallion. You’re sweet. You’re smart, and kind, and funny, and--- and---and you…”

He felt the muscles in her abdomen clench.

“You deserve somepony who can be good to you,” she finished in a voice so frail he could barely make it out over the sound of the river. “Somepony who isn’t broken.”

“You’re not---“

She slipped out of his embrace just as he made a move to hug her, and rose to her hooves. “Look at me, Flam!” she said, flinging her hoof up and down in front of her. Her fetlocks were muddied, her mane hanging in sweaty strings around her tear-stained face. “This is me! This is what I am, okay?! No makeup, no fireworks, no costume, no stage, no---just, just ME!”

“Trix---“

“I, I go from town to town, and I never stay longer than a week---a week, if I’m lucky! I can’t let it catch up with---“ A spasm of emotion went across her face. “Y-you deserve better,” she finished, all hushed.

Her mane made little rustling sounds as he smoothed it back. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“No. No I’m not. You could go out and find a ni---ice filly,” she said, her voice cracking. “A girl from a good family. A girl who you wouldn’t be ash-ashamed of---you---you could raise a family---“

“Trixie…”

She was shaking her head from side to side, her ears twitching. “Look, it was fun while it lasted, but now you know---you know me. Who I am. What I am.”

“Trixie…”

“We can’t do this. I can’t do this to you. Think about it! You’d be stuck with someone’s leftovers---and a fucking half-breed, at that! What would the foals look like?!”

“Beatrix.”

He knew that would grab her attention---he hadn’t used her full name since they’d first parted ways, all those years ago. Flam sat himself in front of her and placed both forehooves squarely on her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. “I don’t care.”

“You should!”

He squeezed her, and gave her a little shake. “Listen to me, sugarplum: It’s not important. The foals could have seven eyes and two heads and I’d still love them, okay? That’s what parents do.”

She started to turn her head, but he took her by the chin and made her look up at him again. “And I love you. That’s not something I can help, or change.”

“But I’m---“

“You’re not broken. You’re a pony, for Celestia’s sake, not a vase! Look…” He slowly slid a hoof down to her cutie mark. “You never got the chance to go to college, but you taught yourself more magic than most unicorns with fancy letters after their names are capable of! You were given nothing, but you made something of yourself.” He chewed on his lip, trying to figure out how to properly word what he wanted to say. “You came from a failed ballerina and a… a monster, but they had nothing to do with the amazing pony you are today.” He leaned in just enough to feel her breath on his snout. “Okay? That was all you. Some would say it’s a miracle you survived, but you did.” A little kiss on the corner of her mouth, and he finished: “You’re amazing, Trixie. I’ve always thought so, and I always will.”

There was a moment where he wasn’t sure if she was going to turn and run again---but then she squeezed her eyes shut and threw herself against him, clutching him in a tight hug. “Oh, Flam…”

He held her in silence, only shifting every now and then when his arms got stiff, patiently waiting until her heavy, erratic breathing steadied and her tail stopped lashing. It took her a long time, but she finally pulled back, without fully pulling out of his embrace. “Pookie?”

“Yes?”

She wiped her fetlocks over her sticky eyes, and gave him a surprising smile. “Y-you don’t have to worry. Unless Trixie starts doing hard drugs, the foals aren’t going to have seven eyes and two heads.”

The laugh loosened his sore chest, and he kissed the base of her horn. “That’s my girl.”

Flim sighed and sunk down in his bed; even over the sound of shrieking from the next room over, he’d heard Applejack’s interaction with the nurses. And he’d heard her mumble “Oh, damn, damn damn.” That had been hours ago, and he still could feel a little sting.

She’s such a sweet, lovable girl, and I had to go and say something like that, he thought, watching the I.V. needle move under his hide as he curled and uncurled his arm. What was I thinking? ‘Don’t fall for me’?! I may as well have crushed her spirits under my hoof like a bug!

He let himself flop back on the pillow. No… she’s a big girl. I’m sure she’d had to deal with worse things than that. It’s for the best, telling her how it is before she gets her hopes up---

“No!”

Chewing on the insides of his cheeks, Flim sat upright and pressed his forehead against his knees. She already had her hopes up! Every kiss, every caress, every kind word you gave her just chipped away at the walls she’d built around her heart, and then you had to go and kick her like that?!

“Well what was I supposed to do?” he whispered into his lap. “Keep telling her what she wants to hea---“

He jumped when the door clanged against the wall, and put on a wan smile when the nurse bustled into the room. “Oh. Hello. Is it dinner time already?”

“No sirree!” she chirped as she busied herself with opening the bundle she was carrying. “Time for that intravenous to come out!”

“Wonderful.”

She magicked a cotton swab and a bottle of disinfectant from her bag, and set them both on the bedside table, being careful not to disturb the ultrasound picture. “And how are we today?”

“Well, I’m irritable and you seem pretty perky, so on average, I’d say ‘we’ are content,” he muttered.

“I see. Crankiness is a side-effect of the painkillers.” She began daubing at the puncture site, which made him hiss in pain. “But that just means they’re working. We’ll switch you to an oral regimen soon.” Before he could respond, she placed a firm hoof over the needle and looked him in the eye. “Now, this is going to hurt.”

“It’s nothing I can’t handlAAAYAAH!!”

“There we go!” she said brightly as she pressed the alcohol-soaked swab against the open slit in his skin. The I.V. catheter and needle, both dark with blood, were floating in her aura. “You’re quite a screamer! My patients don’t usually squeal like that unless they’re foals.”

Flim ground his molars together. Why do I always get this kind of nurse?

“Oh, turn that frown upside-down, honey! You have another visitor!”

He had been rubbing his temples, but when he looked up at the doorway, he managed a smile---a genuine one this time. “Apple Bloom! What a nice surprise!”

She eagerly trotted into the room, despite being weighed down on one side by her saddlebag. “Did I come at a bad time?” she said, eyeing the nurse.

“Not at all. She was just leaving. Weren’t you, ‘honey’?”

The sunny look on her face faltered a bit, but she was still smiling on her way out, making an attempt to hide the bloodied equipment from Apple Bloom’s view.

Flim gave her a silly bow, which made her giggle. “To what do I owe the honour?”

She rolled her shoulder backwards toward her bag. “I brought yer stuff from home! AJ said you’d probably want it with ya.”

He pulled out a chair for her, and held his hoof to help her onto it. “Oh, that’s sweet of you. You didn’t have to do that---“

“She said you’d want this in particular.” After a brief fumble, she found what she’d been digging for and lifted it out, the plastic squeaking in her teeth; Flim startled a bit, but he delicately took it by the corner and pulled it from her muzzle.

“Er, yes. Thank you.”

“Yer welcome, Mister Flim.”

“Stop that,” he said with an awkward smile. “It’s just Flim.”

“So…” She scooted forward to peek over his shoulder at the photo. “That’s yer Mama?”

“No, that’s my sister.” He turned it over. “This is my mother.”

“Wow, she’s real pretty!” She lightly touched the surface, and then brought her hooftip back to brush across her bangs. “I wish I could get my mane to do that.”

With a little pat to the back of her head, he said “Now, now. Your mane is beautiful just the way it is. Aren’t you a little young to be developing a body image problem?”

“I don’t have a ‘body image problem!’” she protested, but didn’t dodge from under his hoof. “Even if I knew what that meant, I still wouldn’t have one! All I’m sayin’ is I think her mane’s nice, an’ I wish I had curly hair like her.”

“No, you don’t. Ponies with curly manes hate it.” He lifted his hoof from her head, and ran it over his. “Do you know how much pomade it takes to keep this in place? I wish I hadn’t left it back at the hotel.”

“You do kinda look like a scarecrow,” she laughed.

“Heh.” Flim flicked the photo-sleeve over, giving his siblings a quick glance. “That’s what my sister always said. ‘You can’t go out of the house like that! You look like a scarecrow!’”

Apple Bloom watched the subtle change of expression on his face as he turned it back over to look at his mother’s picture. “Do you miss her?”

He half-shrugged on his uninjured side. “No, not really.”

“Not at all?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Flim turned his attention from his photograph to the filly beside him. “Do you miss Starswirl the Bearded?”

Her cocked eyebrow made her look eerily reminiscent of her sister. “Uh, no. I never met him. He kinda died centuries before I was born.”

“Exactly,” he said as he propped the photo up on his bedside table, slightly overlapping the sonogram. “You can’t really miss somepony you’ve never met.”

Without warning, she hooked her fetlocks around his elbow and yanked him so they were face-to-face. He’d forgotten just how much strength was in those little forelegs of hers. His eyes widened as they met hers; he’d seen her cross before, but now she looked downright mad. “Now you wait jes’ a darn minute, there! I can too miss somepony I’ve never met!”

Sweet Celestia, Applejack’s temper sure does run in the family! he thought as he tried to pull back. I hope it skips a generation… “I---“

She let his elbow go, and folded her forelegs over her chest. The frown hadn’t left her face. “I never really met Ma an’ Pa, but I miss ‘em. I do,” she stated with more force than he’d ever heard from such a young filly before. “Y’can’t tell me those feelins ain’t real!”

He numbly nodded. There was something shining in her eyes that he hadn’t seen for awhile---not since Applejack had refused to answer his question about her parents.

“I don’t think you’d bother carryin’ around a picture a’yer Mama if you didn’t feel the same way,” she added. “Even jes’ a little.”

“You… may have a point there,” he said with a touch of hesitation. They both glanced at the bedside table, and then at each other.

“Besides…” Still seated, she leaned over his body and rapped a hoof against the picture of the foal. “You can’t look at me in the eye an’ tell me you wouldn’t miss her.”

Almost as a reflex, he swatted her arm away. “Apple Bloom! Don’t say things like that!”

“Why not?”

“You’ll…” He wrapped his arms around himself, as though trying to keep from shivering. “You’ll jinx it.”

“I’ll ‘jinx it’, huh?” She plunked herself back in her seat, swinging her hindlegs. “You believe in stuff like that?”

“Oh, yes. I’m very superstitious. It’s part of being a salespony; you have to stay on Lady Luck’s good side.”

Her gaze wandered from the sonogram, to the empty I.V. stand, over the bruise in his elbow, and then up to his shiner. “Uh-huh. So what didja do to tick her off?”

He ruffled her hair. “I suppose trying to cross you and your family was a bad idea. We’ve had nothing but bad luck ever since.”

“Really?” She had a tiny smile on her face; it seemed almost shy, but she made no move to hide it. “I wouldn’t say it’s all bad. You got to be a daddy, right?”

He froze, his hoof still on her head.

“An’ you an’ AJ have been spendin’ a lotta time together.” She looked over her shoulder, then back at him, lowering her voice. “Y’know what?”

“What?”

She leaned in a bit with a conspiratorial gleam in her eyes. “Jes’ between you an’ me, I think she really likes ya.”

“Well… I’m not so sure about that,” he said quietly.

“Sure she does!” With a little grunt, Apple Bloom hefted herself onto the bed so she could sit right beside him. “She wouldn’t come over here every day if she didn’t! And anyway---” She giggled into her fetlocks. “Whenever she comes home from seein’ you, she’s always got this big, goofy grin on her face!”

A light flutter rose in his chest. “…She does?”

She pointed at him, bopping his snout just a touch. “Uh huh! Exactly like the one you got on yer face right now.”

His cheeks flushed with heat, and he ducked his head away from her---he hadn’t even realized he’d been smiling. All those years of practicing keeping a cool, calm demeanor, even under duress, and now just the thought of Applejack’s smiling face had let a grin slip through?

“Oh! I almost forgot.” She yanked her saddlebag off the chair, plunked it down beside her on the mattress, and began rifling through it. “I brought ya something!”

“A-Apple Bloom, really, you’re being too kind,” he began, surprised to hear the waver in his voice. “You didn’t have to go to the trouble---“

“Weren’t no trouble!” She pulled out what looked like a folded square of paper and dropped it in his lap, beaming. “G’wan! Look!”

Very carefully, Flim lifted it with his magic; it took him a moment to realize he was holding it upside-down, and when he righted it, he could feel a hot pinch in his throat. It was a card. On the front was a fairly accurate drawing of a hospital with a rainbow overtop, and on the inside, written in marker over carefully-drawn pencil lines read ‘GET WELL SOON!’

“I did it during Arts and Crafts,” she said proudly. “We were s’posta be doing papier-mache, but I finished mine first, so Miss Cheerilee let me do this, too.”

“That’s… this is so sweet,” he finally said. “It’s been a long time since somepony gave me a get-well card.”

“Really? Aintcha in the hospital a lot?”

“Yes, unfortunately. But…”

He trailed off.

“Maybe it’s ‘cause yer a stallion. Maybe folks like givin’ cards an’ stuff to mares instead.”

“Sure.”

She bounced on the mattress as she kicked her hindlegs back and forth. “Ma got a lot of flowers when she was sick, but flowers are somethin’ a stallion gives to a mare, not the other way ‘round.”

“Mm-hm.”

Apple Bloom bit her lip, chewing it to the side. She didn’t like the despondent look he was trying to mask. “I noticed that the colts in my class don’t get as many Hearts an’ Hooves day cards as the fillies. Lotsa cards are real frilly an’ stuff, so maybe they’re meant t’be fer females, mostly.” She put her little hoof on his shoulder, making him look up at her. “Besides, AJ can’t draw fer beans. There’s no way she could make a card that looks halfway decent.”

Then she surprised him by wrapping her forelegs around his neck and squeezing her face against his chest. “Don’t worry! You got a lotta ponies who care about ya. You don’t need cards to know that, right?”

He chuckled, shaking his head, but gave her an affectionate, if nervous, pat on the back. “Are you sure you’re only eight?”

“And two-thirds,” she reminded him.

“When I was your age, I thought that cucumbers were snake eggs. How did you get so smart?”

“I listen t’my elder ponies,” she said sweetly. “But I listen to ‘em when they don’t think I’m there, too. That’s when they say the really interesting stuff!”

He couldn’t hold back the laugh. “Oh, dear. I certainly hope you haven’t been listening to me behind my back!”

“Well, I know you say ‘fuck’ a lot.”

“APPLE BLOOM!”

“Oops.” She put a hoof over her grin. “Sorry.”

“You really are growing up too quickly! Or am I just being a bad influence on you?”

“Who cares if y’are? Growin’ up’s a good thing, ain’t it?” Her eyes lit up with a strange mixture of glee and wariness. “I’m gonna be an auntie soon, anyway!”

“Are you worried about that?” he said, recalling something Flam had muttered about being elbow-deep in shitty diapers.

“Nah, not really.”

But there was definitely concern on her face now. “Come now, Apple Bloom. If there’s something on your mind, you can tell me.”

She was looking off to the side at nothing in particular, and her legs began to slow their swinging. When they’d come to a full stop against the side of the bed, she looked back up at him and said “How… how often do mares die when they’re foalin’?”

“Oh, Apple Bloom.” He put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her against him. “Has that been bothering you?”

“Well, yeah…. You said yer Mama---“

“Listen to me.” Flim took her little hooves in his, discretely using his magic to slide his photograph under the sonogram. “My mother was very old when she had us; Applejack’s in her prime. And she’s only having one. You see…” He tried to remember how Connie had explained it to him---and immediately decided to take a gentler approach. “Ponies aren’t really built for more than one foal at a time. Having twins was very hard on her. That’s why… it happened.”

“Yeah, but…” She glanced at the bedside table, then back at him. “I don’t have a twin.”

It took him a second to realize what she meant, and when he did, he surprised them both by wrapping his forelegs around her and hugging her as hard as he could.

“Ow!”

“Applejack’s not going to die,” he said into her mane. “I promise.”

“Flim, yer hurtin’ my ribs!”

“Sorry,” he said as he let her go. She made quite a show of huffing and pushing her ribbon back into place. “I just---I don’t want you to think she’s going to leave you. She’ll be fine.”

“How do you know that? Y’ain’t a doctor.”

“Maybe not, but I know that this hospital has excellent staff, and they’ll take good care of her.”

“She ain’t gonna be here,” Apple Bloom pointed out. “She’s plannin’ on havin’ the foal in the barn.”

“The barn…?” He frowned. He knew they’d be able to clean up the mess---no, his mess---in time, but he remembered the acidic tang of manure in the air. “Isn’t that a little… unhygienic?”

“I dunno about that, but it’s safe enough,” she said with a shrug. “Ma had the three of us jes’ fine in there.”

“She did? But didn’t you just say she… you… er…”

“Flim,” she said quietly, “There are lotsa ways a foal can hurt their Mama.”

He didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t even sure if there was something to say to that.

She scootched her rump back a bit so she could sit cross-legged, her back propped against his knees. “Ma got real sick after she had me.”

He absent-mindedly scratched at his stitches. “An infection?”

“Nah. My family doesn’t really talk about it much.” Then a dark look crossed her face. “They say I’m ‘too young to understand’. But they don’t understand it, neither!”

Before he could respond, she grabbed his hoof, looking at him with pleading eyes. “Y’ain’t gonna make Applejack sad, are ya?” she asked. “You promised she won’t die---y’ain’t gonna make her sad, are ya, Mister Flim?”

“FLAM!”

Applejack pounded her hoof against the caravan door. The shutters were drawn, but she was sure she’d heard some scuttling about inside. “C’mon out, Flam! I know yer in there! I can hear ya bein’ ugly!”

The door slammed open, but instead of having to tilt her head up to meet Flam’s eye, she found herself staring into an unfortunately familiar face---and a sneering once, at that. Trixie gave her a condescending once-over, and then firmly planted both forehooves in the doorframe. They both knew Applejack was strong enough to push past this barricade, but it was more for show than effect. “What do you want?” she spat.

“I wanna talk to that miserable coltfriend a’yers. Ain’t that obvious? Or didn’tcha hear me hollerin’ out here?”

“Trixie wouldn’t be surprised if the whole town heard that braying voice of yours!” she said. “And while you’re in her presence, you’re not to insult her pookie like that!”

Applejack’s frown suddenly pulled back as she snorted. “Her ‘pookie’?!”

A quick flush of embarrassment went over her features, and the fluff around her ears bristled up. “I---shut up! What do you want with him, anyway? Come to try and steal him away, are you, you little home-wrecker?”

“Hey!” Even though she shoved her muzzle against Trixie’s, she didn’t lose her ground. “Who’re you callin’ a home-wrecker?”

“You, obviously! Or is a straightforward conversation too difficult for your simple mind to handle?”

Applejack pushed farther, her head halfway inside the caravan; Trixie’s whole body was tilted back at an uncomfortable angle, but her hooves were still blocking the doorway. “You wanna get a fat lip?”

“Why? Are you selling one of yours, tubby?”

“I am pregnant! I ain’t fat!!”

She could feel her muzzle twist as the last word left her throat in a ragged screech. Satisfied that she’d hit a sore spot, Trixie steeled her hindlegs and, with a thrust of her head, forced the intruder to back out of her home. “Oh, don’t you worry. I’m sure you’ll lose that extra babyfat in no time. Some stallions like a plumper mare, anyway.”

Her leg was starting to twitch so hard she hard to lean most of her weight on it, lest it fly out and give Trixie a matching bruise on the opposite cheek. “Trixie, I swear to Celestia if you keep flappin’ yer jaws I’ll---“

“You’ll what? Resort to violence, like your kind always does?”

“’MY KIND?!’” The muscles in her haunches flexed. She didn’t want to prove this bitch right, but she knew she had to be prepared for anything. “What d’you got against Earth ponies, huh? What did we ever do to you?”

It was so fast it was barely noticeable, but something crackled between them, like a shiver of static---and Applejack was sure her eyes weren’t playing tricks on her. Yes, she was sure she’d seen a little blanch on Trixie’s face. Was it a cringe…?

“What do you want with Flam, anyway?”

“Well, fer starters, I wanna give yer ‘pookie’ an earful fer callin’ his sister over here!”

The pallor on her face was long gone, vanished under her smirk. “Oh. So you’ve met the Old Battleaxe.”

“Yeah.” She glanced away. “She’s a real piece a’work.”

“At least we can agree on something.”

“…Sorry you hadta have her in yer family, too.”

Trixie raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean, ‘too’?”

“Well, if my brother has his way, I’m-a have that…” She paused, clicking her tongue a few times as if to dislodge a bad taste. “…pony as a sister-in-law.”

“A sis---?!”

Trixie took a stumbling step back, her eyes wide and her chest huffing. Another flush had risen to her cheeks, but this time, it was out of indignation. “I knew it! I knew it! You are out to steal my Flam from me!”

“What?!”

“Why, the nerve of you, you--- you hussy!” She grimaced as she pointed at Applejack’s puffed-out belly. “Not only did you go and get yourself pregnant, but now you want to take the one good thing I have in my life?!”

Her eyes narrowed. There it was again, that strange flicker on the unicorn’s face, like a mirage on a distant road. It was beginning to unsettle her. “Okay, first of all, I ain’t a hermaphrodite, so there’s no way I coulda ‘got myself pregnant’. Usually there’s a stallion involved.”

“And I bet you don’t even know who he is.”

“Oh, yer a bettin’ mare? Slap down a hundred bits on that lousy guess a’yers, Trixie, ‘cause I know damn well who knocked me up!”

Her lips curled up in a sneer. “Some poor mare’s husband, hm?”

She leaned back on her hindquarters so that navel stuck out; even though it made the foal rustle around in the amniotic fluid, she wrapped her fetlocks under the widest part of her belly and hefted it up. “Don’t try yer luck in Las Pegasus, girl. This here’s Flim’s baby!”

Trixie widened her eyes and, with a little gasp, took a step backwards. “W-what?”

“This is Flim’s daughter,” Applejack repeated.

Her eyes were flicking between the taut hide of her abdomen and her face. “But… how is that possible? H-how did that happen?”

“The stork, Trixie,” she said blankly. “Or was it the ‘cabbage patch’ story you heard?”

“But that’s… that can’t BE!” Trixie had backed up a few feet, and her eyes were wide and startled. “There’s no way he could be the father! No way!”

“Why not?”

Her nostrils flared. “Because, in case you haven’t noticed, he’s GAY!”

For a moment Applejack looked confused---and then she burst out laughing.

“What? What’s funny?”

“Oh, Trixie, you sure are somethin’!” With slight gestures of her hooftip, she encouraged the other mare to lean forward. “I got somethin’ to tell ya.”

Trixie kept her hooves firmly planted, but allowed herself to lean in a little.

“But it’s a secret,” she said in a lower voice, still motioning with her hoof. “C’mere.”

With one tiny, tentative step, she closed a bit more of the distance between them.

Applejack bit her lip and shook her head. “Nuh-uh. A li’l closer.”

She turned her head to the side and folded one ear toward Applejack’s mouth. “Okay, okay. Fine. So what’s this big, important secret?”

“Thing is, sugarcube,” she began in a whisper, “I know fer a fact Flim ain’t a coltcuddler…”

Trixie nodded. “Go on?”

Her chest puffed out as she sucked in her breath, and then with the power of a gale-force twister she screamed “…BECAUSE I BEEN SLEEPIN’ WITH HIM!!”

She couldn’t help but smile triumphantly as she watched Trixie stagger back, gasping and clutching at her ringing ear. “An’ he’s mighty good at it, too. No coltcuddler would know his way ‘round a mare’s body the way Flim does.”

“Some Element of Honesty you are!” she snapped. “Trixie’s the only mare who could seduce him!”

“Well maybe Trixie should take it up with Flim himself! I’m sure he’ll tell ya all about it!”

Immediately her mouth pinched shut, but she managed to keep her muzzle from scrunching up; sweet Celestia, she hoped Trixie didn’t take her up on that! She didn’t know how discrete Flim would be about their love life, and the thought of this egocentric loudmouth knowing all about it made her hide crawl.

“Y’jes’ gotta trust me,” she said, watching Trixie nurse her sore ear. “I ain’t got a reason t’lie about it.”

“Oh, you have plenty of reasons!” She rapped her hoof against the floor. “One: you have no idea who the father really is, and you want to protect what’s left of your reputation. Two: you know it’s easy to blame a stallion who’ll leave town once he’s out of the hospital. Three:”---here she paused to toss her mane and tilt her snout up just enough to be able to look down her nose---“ you know Trixie managed to make a coltcuddler fall for her charms, and it just burns you up inside that you couldn’t do the same. This is your feeble attempt to prove yourself as worthy.” A few strands had caught on her horn, so she lifted a hoof to brush them back in their place. “It really is pathetic how jealous you are of Trixie’s achievements.”

Her face and ears were burning so hot she was sure her hat would catch fire. Enough was enough. “You wanna know what’s pathetic, Trixie? A washed-up showmare who not only talks about herself like she’s some other pony, but desperately clings to her crazy delusions!” She caught her by the elbow mid-flinch, before she could properly retreat into her home, and yanked her so close the bristling hairs on their snouts were touching. “If Flim likes stallions, I’ll eat my hat!”

She was expecting her to snap back---so the smug, slow-spreading grin on her face took Applejack by surprise. “Oh, would you?” Trixie said. “Would you reeeeeally?”

“Yeah,” she said hesitantly.

“Well, sit yourself down. Trixie has something to show you!” she chirped as she turned back into the caravan. “By the way, do you like your Stetson with mayo or mustard?”

Despicable

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Flim squirmed, trying to avoid Apple Bloom’s piercing gaze. Intimidated into speechlessness by a little filly. Some stallion you are! “I… Apple Bloom, er…”

He coughed, then swallowed, and then carefully met her eyes. “I’m not a mean pony, Apple Bloom. I may be a bad pony, and even a dishonest one, but I’m not mean. I don’t intend to make Applejack sad, but you have to know that, er, sometimes when a mare is heavily pregnant, her hormones get out of control. She can just get sad or angry or giddy for no apparent reason.”

“Sounds t’me like yer dodgin’ the question.”

Why do you have to be so smart, dammit? “No, I’m not,” he said firmly, and then pulled her into a hug. Her body felt stiff at first, but she slowly eased into it, his breath ruffling against her mane. “I don’t want to see her sad, eith---“

“Isn’t she a little young to be your new marefriend?”

Flim’s head shot up, and he scowled when he saw who was at the door. “That’s not even remotely funny, Connie.”

Apple Bloom put her hooves over her mouth and giggled. “Pppft! I’m not his marefriend! My sister is!”

“Apple Bl---“

But she was already off the bed and bounding towards the door. “Hiya! Are you Flim’s sister? He showed me a picture of you!”

She flinched back when the filly got within grabbing distance, but when she realized she wasn’t going to be hugged, she straightened her back and offered a hoof to shake. “Yes. And who might you be?”

“I’m Apple Bloom! I’m Applejack’s sister.”

“Your parents sure weren’t creative when it comes to names, were they?”

“Huh?”

“Never mind.” She put on a smile that only Flim could tell was insincere, and ran her frog over the filly’s mane. “I’m Contrarian. The boys call me Connie.”

“All of her friend call her that, too.”

The smile hadn’t let up, but her eyes tightened a bit. “Don’t be a bitch, Flim.”

“I won’t. Celestia forbid I take your job away from you.”

Apple Bloom carefully withdrew her hoof and glanced between them. “Uh… did y’all get in a fight or somethin’?”

“No. She’s always like this.”

She flicked her mane back. “And he’s just mad because he’s having a bad hair life.”

“O…. kay,” Apple Bloom said hesitantly. It wasn’t that she was unused to squabbling families, but the acidity in their words was starting to make her feel uneasy. Her siblings would never dream of using the B-word on each other! Turning back to Connie, she grinned and said “So, uh, we’re gonna be sister-in-laws?”

“It’s ‘sisters-in-law’, sweetness, and…” She shot her brother a look over Apple Bloom’s head. “…we just may be. We’ll have to see what the future holds.”

“Say, I jes’ thought a’somethin’!” She glanced over her shoulder just in time to catch Flim change his frown into a forced smile. Yup, somethins’ definitely goin’ on between these two. “Is the baby gonna take yer last name, or AJ’s?”

His eyes drifted to the bedside table, but he didn't touch the sonogram; instead, he picked up his card and the photo-sleeve and stacked them on top of it. “I hadn’t thought of that, actually.”

A hoof came to rest on her shoulder, making her turn back to the older mare who was smiling down at her with a strange glint in her eyes. “Let the kid have your family name. Mine’s a little silly.”

“Silly? How silly could it be?”

“It’s---“

Immediately Flim sat up straight, as if ready to pounce. “No. No, Connie, don’t you dare say it!”

After beckoning her to lean in, Apple Bloom inched her muzzle closer to Connie’s folded ear and lowered her voice in the hopes that Flim couldn’t hear: “Is he…y’know… embarrassed by it or somethin’?”

“Yes,” she said sweetly. “The other foals made fun of him something terrible.”

“Well you can tell me,” she whispered with a hoof on her heart. “I promise I won’t tease him.”

Flim’s jaw was set on edge. “Connie---“

Again, she petted over the knot of her bow. “My last name’s Lingus.”

Apple Bloom frowned in confusion. “’Connie Lingus?’”

He put both hooves to his face and screamed. “For Celestia’s sake, the filly is eight years old!!”

“Exactly. She doesn’t get it.” She gestured at the blank look on Apple Bloom’s face. “See? Doesn’t get it.”

She was glancing back and forth between the two adults, trying to figure out what she’d missed. “Was that a joke? What’s it mean?”

“You are NOT going to explain---“

But she’d already crouched down to Apple Bloom’s eye level and put a foreleg around her shoulders. “It’s a play on words, sweetness.”

He threw his pillow as hard as he could, but his sister caught it in her aura as it sailed easily a foot over her head. “EIGHT! YEARS! OLD!”

She used her magic to fluff it up, still rubbing the filly’s back. “You see, ‘cunning’ means ‘clever’, and a ‘linguist’ is someone who studies languages, so a ‘cunning linguist’ is someone who is very clever with words. And by making a joke about that with my name, I proved that I am a cunning linguist. Do you get it now?”

Flim just groaned like he’d been socked in the stomach.

“Oh, yeah!” Apple Bloom was nodding in excitement, even though she’d felt a pang of sadness that her potential brother-in-law thought she was still too young to understand a sophisticated, grown-up joke. “That’s real neat! Say, is bein’ a cunni…. clever with words somethin’ yer born with, or is it somethin’ you can learn?”

“Anypony can learn it.”

She lept in the air, dislodging the arm around her shoulders. “All right! Maybe I can get my cutie mark in linguisting!”

“That’s right.” She gave her a little pat on the head, simultaneously turning her toward the door. “Why don’t you go run on home and tell your family all about it, hm?”

“I sure will!” Apple Bloom could sense that she was being asked to leave, but she didn’t make for the door just yet---she leaned in and wrapped her forelegs around one of Connie’s, and tilted her head up to give her a smile. “Thanks! It was nice t’meetcha, Mrs. Lingus!”

She waved after her, but as soon as the door closed her smile melted back into her well-worn frown. As she returned his pillow, she said “Flim, you’d better learn how to pray, because without divine intervention your kid just might inherit the gullibility gene that so obviously runs on the Apple side.”

He snatched it away from her. “You’re despicable.”

“Nice to see you, too.”

“I can’t believe you told her that stupid joke,” he muttered. “She’s going to get her mouth washed out with soap because of you, you know! She’s---“

“Eight. I know. I heard you the first two times.” Leaning against the side of the bed, she folded one foreleg underneath her and brought the opposite hoof up to his chin. “Well, shit. Flam wasn’t kidding when he said you were in a bad way.”

He’d opened his mouth to respond, but yelped instead when she ripped the sheet off his body. “Connie!”

“What’s this?” she demanded as she yanked his ankle up and down. “You look like you’ve been mummified.”

“It’s a compression bandage. I had bruises on my leg, and they started swelling, and in case you can’t tell, it really hurts when you do that!”

She let it drop back to the mattress; ignoring his shout of pain, she slid her hooves under his gown and started running them across his chest. “Where are the stitches?”

“Hey! Personal space!”

Despite his protests, he knew by now she wasn’t going to listen, so he just lay back and sulked as she fumbled around, searching for the wound. It didn’t take her long to find the dressings, and she held his arm and the gown out of the way to get a better look, using her magic to peel the gauze off just enough to take a peek underneath. “…Wow.”

“Yes, it’s gross. Now are you done rubbernecking?”

She took a seat beside him and rested a hoof on the mattress. “Well excuse me for caring. Somepony has to be a mother hen to you two.”

“You’re not a mother hen,” he grumbled as he pressed the medical tape back in place. “You’re more of a mother cockatrice.”

“You watch your mouth, boy, or I’ll turn you into stone.” Pulling her purse onto her lap, she unclasped it and started rooting around inside it. “So, pray tell, what did you do this time? Insult someone’s mother?”

“No.” He pointed to his leg, then at the crook of his elbow. “Those bruises are from being kicked, and this one’s from the I.V. The stitches were from an accide--- oh, Connie, you can’t smoke in here!”

“Who’s the mother cockatrice, me or you?” She shook another cigarette loose and turned the pack towards him, but he irritably waved her off.

“Don’t make me sick. A cigarette is the most disgusting thing you could put in your mouth.”

The crow’s-feet around her eyes curled upwards as she sniggered. “Pffthahaha! That’s quite something coming from you.”

“Okay, you know what? I’m going to let that one go. You’re obviously cranky from the trip.” With a strained sigh, he slid down against the pillow and pulled the covers back up. “And I’m in no mood to fight.”

“Speaking of which---what sort of ‘accident’ left you with a slash like that?”

“I, er, dropped a sickle on myself.”

“You always were a klutz.” She paused to puff out a few smoke rings. “And the shiner?”

“…I got sucker-punched by---er, by somepony I insulted.”

His blush caught her attention, but she decided not to push it. “Those Apples sure know how to treat a guest, don’t they?”

Flim pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. “How much did Flam tell you?”

Switching the smoke from one side of her mouth to the other, Connie put her open purse on the bed and levitated something out of it. “Here, I’ll show you.”

She floated the telegram in front of his face. It read:

FLIM’S REALLY DONE IT THIS TIME STOP IN HOSPITAL STOP KNOCKED UP AN EOH 4 – 5 MOS STOP SHOTGUN WEDDING POSSIB STOP GET TO PONYVILLE ASAP STOP

His ears flattened against his ruffling mane. “Jeez, he sure can be succinct when he wants to be.”

“Well, it was twenty bits a word.” She folded the telegram in half and slipped it back beside her wallet. “He gave me an earful more when I went to visit him.”

“So that’s where you were.” When he saw her gesturing with her cigarette, he pushed a cup over to her for an ashtray. “Where’s he been staying? I doubt any Ponyville hotel worth its reputation would let one of us---“

“He’s been staying with Little Miss Spreads-A-Lot.”

That caught his attention. “Who, Trixie?”

“Who else?”

“Wait.” He shuffled forward on the mattress. “Is he… just ‘staying’ with her, or---“

She tapped the ash off her smoke, and brought the butt end up to her face to check how much lipstick she’d smeared. “He’s with her in every sense of the word.”

After a touch of hesitation, he let his eyes drift off to the side. “…He didn’t tell me that.”

“He was probably worried about how you’d react.”

“How I’d react? How I’d react?!” He could hear the escalation in his voice, but he couldn’t keep it from raising into a near-shout: “It shouldn’t matter how I’d react! Flam’s my brother---my twin, for Celestia’s sake! He should know me well enough to know I’d---”

And there he had to cut the sentence short, because the last word cracked. “That I’d be happy for him.”

“Mm-hm.” She kept her eyes fixed on him, even as he looked away. “Maybe he was worried history would repeat itself.”

Flim’s head shot back around with a blaze of anger in his eyes. “That was an honest mistake, and you know it! Even you couldn’t always tell us apart!”

“Oh, Flim. Relax ! It was just a joke,” she said airily. “I don’t know why you’re always so uptight.”

“Well it wasn’t very funny,” he spat. “Besides, you know I can’t stand Trixie, whether her hooves are on the ground or in the air.”

“At least one of you has some taste.” Her eyebrows arched as something occurred to her: “Speaking of which, does Flam have a thing for blonde tomcolts?”

“Connie---“

“That could solve your problem,” she went on, deliberately ignoring the warning in his voice. “Get him to seduce your little overstuffed apple tart, and the wedding’s off.”

“That won’t solve anything!”

She snuffed her cigarette out, despite it being far from finished. “Don’t raise your voice to me.”

He could feel the muscles in his shoulders knotting up. “There are plenty of ways of getting out of it than---than that. Flam’s not going to lay a hoof on her.”

“Oh, really?”

When he looked up from his lap, the tension in his back began to turn into a headache; he could see that malicious little smirk on her face. “If I didn’t know better, Flim… I’d say you were actually getting attached to her. Maybe you don’t want the wedding called off at all, hm?”

He pressed his hooves as hard as he could against his sides. It’s wrong to hit a mare. It’s wrong to hit a mare. “Connie, why are you here? Be honest.”

“I told you. Flam sent for me.”

“Why? What good would it do? Why would you even care?”

That’s when he saw her mask crack, if only slightly; her hooded eyes had flashed open for a second, and then her lashes fluttered back into place. “Flim… do you remember when I was the one lying on a hospital bed, tubes coming out from everywhere?”

He winced a little. “Yes, but---“

“We’re family,” she said with a kind of finality. “It’s a family duty to come visit a sick relative.”

“I hate that word,” he snapped.

“What, family?”

“No! ‘Duty’!” When he saw her lighting another cigarette, he magicked the window open. Part of him wanted a nurse to come in and admonish her, but another, stronger part didn’t wish to see the ensuing screaming match. “That was what you always called it—duty.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.” His lips pulled back in a sneer, and he waved a limp-wristed hoof around as he imitated her voice: “’Taking care of you is my duty. I got you into that school because it was my duty. I work three jobs to feed you because it’s my duty. I---‘”

“I get the point, Flim,” she said, her jaw clenched.

“Good,” he said. “You’ve come to see me. You’ve scolded me, and berated me, and made fun of a little filly.” He narrowed his eyes. “I’d say you’ve done your duty, Connie. You can leave now.”

She looked at him with the same weary expression she always feigned when he was a throwing a temper tantrum as a foal. “Not a chance. I spent ten hours on a crowded train just getting here, and I plan on getting my money’s worth.”

“So… what? You’re going to spend the equivalent of ten hours here?” He rubbed his bruised elbow. “Because, if you are, I’ll ask the staff to up my painkillers.”

She sucked on her cig, and hissed the smoke out through the little gap between her front teeth. “This isn’t just an ordinary hospital visit, Flim. You have a foal on the way.”

“Fucking Celestia, why do you care?!”

They both jumped, and Flim put a hoof to his throat; he hadn’t meant to scream like that. His sister’s presence always made him tense, but he didn’t know why his chest felt so clenched.

Oddly enough, when she answered him, her voice had become softer: “Why wouldn’t I care?”

“Because you never have!” He threw his hooves in the air, barely noticing the pain it caused. “You know what, Connie? You don’t care. I know that for a fact. And you never have!”

“If I didn’t care, why would I have raised you all those years?”

“Because it was your fucking duty! And that’s all that it ever was! Don’t pretend it was anything else! You want to hear something funny, Connie?” With a grunt of exertion, he twisted to the side so he could lean in close to her face, so close he could feel the wisps of burnt air coming from her cig. “I didn’t know what a ‘birthday party’ was until I was six years old. That’s when somepony invited me and Flam to theirs! Up until then, I had no idea that other little colts and fillies got to have cake and presents every year!”

That’s when her lips smashed together so hard they snuffed out her smoke. “And what reason would I have to celebrate that day?!” she barked, swatting his jabbing hoof away from her chest.

“Oh, is it my birthday already? Because that’s what I had to hear every year!” His breathing was coming out in short gasps, and he had to hold a hoof against his stitches to keep them from busting. “The only thing you ever gave us on our birthday was a huge heaping of guilt! No, wait.” The foreleg he had clamped against his side had started to shake. “No, I take that back. You did give us a gift… once.”

Connie turned away, a hooftip pressing against the furrow in her brow. “Flim, don’t do this to me.”

“A suitcase!” By now he was screaming. “Remember that, Connie? Remember our eighteenth birthday? Remember when you gave us a suitcase and said ‘Now you’re old enough to take care of yourselves, so get out of my home’? Do you remember that?!”

For a few long, aching moments, neither of them spoke, the only sound coming from the curtains loosely flapping against the windowsill. Finally, as she pushed her dead cig into her makeshift ashtray, Connie began her reply: “Flim… sweetness… do you know the story of Achilles’ Hock?”

Before he could answer, she went on: “His mother wanted him to be invulnerable to attack, so she plunged him into a holy fire. She knew it would hurt him terribly, but it would burn off his mortal nature. The only part of him that didn’t get burnt was his hock joint, because that’s where she was clutching him.”

“What does that---“

Again, she cut him off. “That’s what I did with you two,” she said quietly. “I held you to the fire, because I knew it would force you to be strong. You’d either die, or gain strength from the experience. And, now… look at you. You’re stronger than ever.”

His mouth opened, but it closed again when she gingerly placed a hoof over his bandaged leg. “You’re still vulnerable,” she murmured, so low he could barely hear it. “Still… fragile. You can still be broken apart. But I raised you to be strong.”

“How? By abusing us?”

“I never abused you!” She rose out of her chair, nostrils flaring and one hind hoof scraping at the ground. “No, I never abused you. You have no idea what abuse is like!”

“Don’t I?!”

“No! You don’t!”

It was hard to rear up on a rickety mattress, but he managed to get to his knees; it took all the strength he had inside not to lunge at her right then and there. “Really? Because I distinctly remember you throwing my brother against a wall! I remember having to lie to the E.R. staff because I was afraid you’d beat me if I didn’t! I remember---“

“Oh, you remember a whole shit-ton of things, don’t you?” Connie shouted back at him. “But you don’t remember a damn thing about your own mother!”

“That’s because we killed her, Connie! Or don’t you remember that? Don’t you remember telling us over and over and over again that she died giving us life?!”

“Dammit, Flim, it’s not always about you!”

There was a retort on his lips, but it vanished, and he pulled back suddenly when her face crumpled, all her bravado sagging out of her like a punctured balloon.

“What?” he said with a slight waver. “What is it?”

It took her a long time just to draw her breath in and out, and then she turned towards him. “Flim… there’s something I need to tell you…”

When Trixie opened the caravan door again, it was with a flourish, and Applejack noticed with a sinking feeling that she’d put on not only her stage costume, but her airs as well. “Welcome, welcome all! Are you prepared to be astounded? Amazed? Flabbergasted?”

Applejack couldn’t hold back her groan. “Look, Trixie, I really ain’t in the mood fer any bullshit---“

Too bad that’s what she was best at. “The Great and Powerful Trixie will require a volunteer from the audience!”

She sighed and looked away, but in her peripheral vision she could see something blue swishing back and forth; when she realized Trixie wasn’t about to let up, she reluctantly turned back to face her. The ridiculous star-spangled hat was floating upside-down in her aura, and the magician herself was smirking down at her with a look that Applejack truly wanted to smack off her face.

“Well? Any volunteers?”

Okay, okay, I’ll bite. She raised a hoof.

“Ah, yes! You! The squatty little freckle-monster in the back. Please make your way to the stage.”

“Trixie, you really are a piece a’work.” She took a tiny step forward. “What’m I s’posed t---“

“Please select a card from the hat.”

She peeked inside the brim, and was surprised to see it was, in fact, filled with what looked like cards. They were a little larger and less rectangular than playing cards, but her curiosity was piqued. Gingerly picking one up with her teeth, she spat it onto her outstretched hoof, face-down. “Okay. Now what?”

Trixie pulled her hat back and placed it at her hooves, just out of Applejack’s reach. “Without turning the card over, please tell the audience what you think it might be.”

“Trixie… unless you can see somethin’ I can’t, there’s ain’t no audience here. We’re alone.”

“Humour me.”

She sat down heavily, trying as hard as she could not to curse. Is she makin’ fun a’ me, or herself? Or both? Making a mental note to only put up with this bizarre charade for another thirty seconds, she put a hoof over the face-down card and said “Uh… the Queen a’ Spades.” She’d played her share of Hearts, so it seemed appropriate enough.

“Oh dear, Trixie is afraid you’re mistaken!” She pulled her lower lip between her teeth and began to nibble in excitement. “Turn it over and see the truth, Applejack!”

She used her nose to nudge it over---and nearly fell on her face when it fluttered back to the ground.

“Now, isn’t that just the cat’s pyjamas?” she giggled as she watched Applejack’s pupils shrink to little dots. “If I’m not mistaken, that position is called ‘Taint Misbehavin’.”

“B-b-b-ut…” She could feel her throat open up and close as she stared at what was in front of her. Oh, boy. Oh, Celestia. Oh, holy, sweet Celestia! Now she knew why Trixie had that triumphal look about her! “But… this can’t…”

“But wait! There’s more!” She tipped her hat end-over-end, spilling the rest of the photos out; after catching them with her magic, she arranged them in a circle and began whirling them around Applejack’s head, occasionally pausing so she could get a good, long look. A little giggle of glee bubbled up when she saw Applejack’s legs begin to shake. “Trixie was honestly surprised at the variety of positions two stallions could wrangle themselves into. The Wonderbolt’s athleticism wasn’t surprising, but did you have any idea Flim was so flexible?” She winked. “I did.”

“I… d-don’t believe it,” she whispered. She tried to take a step back, but Trixie kept the whirligig of photos flying around her head.

“Oh, but it’s true! Photos don’t lie!” she crowed. “And you can look through those until your eyes burn out, and you won’t find one hint of tampering. These pictures haven’t been altered in any way, so it’s the cold, hard”---here she had to pause to titter---“truth that Flim’s been able to take…” She held one of the pictures at a slight angle and squinted. “At least seventeen inches---“

“This is a trick!” she shouted. “You done some spell on these! That’s gotta be it!”

“Oh, are you deaf as well as bewilderingly naïve? I just said they haven’t been tampered with.” She plucked her favourite picture out of the swirl and gave it a jaunty wiggle right in Applejack’s face. “Flim is a regular hose-hound; his brother even told me so. Look at me, Oh Ye Great Element of Honesty---does it look like I’m lying?”

She knew that ponies who made a living on the stage were better liars than most, but she noticed with a creeping horror that there was no trace of dishonesty on Trixie’s face. There was nothing but smugness---because she knew she was right. She knew they both knew she was right.

“But… but…”

As wildly as her mind was racing, a memory hit Applejack, quick and unbidden: it was back when Flim was hauling her wares to the market, and he’d spoken to her of his first love. Her lips made a little ‘pop’ as her mouth opened. She just now realized he had gone well out of his way to avoid saying ‘she’… or ‘he’.

“Oh sweet Sisters,” she mouthed. It clicked. It finally clicked: When I turned the dildo on him, he’d taken it right down his throat, and he didn’t even struggle! And he loves playin’ with my ass, and he kissed me when I still had flecks of cum on my lips and he kissed my brother and oh no oh no oh HOLY CELESTIA why didn’t I see it sooner?!

With a sweep of her hoof she swatted the photos from the air, ignoring the yelp of surprise from Trixie, and blindly shoved a couple of them in her saddlebags. “DAMNATION, FLIM!” she screamed, already trotting as fast as she could back into town. “I’M GONNA KILL YA, YOU TWO-FACED LIAR!”

“Hey!” Trixie called after her as she scrambled to keep her evidence out of the mud. “You were going to eat your hat! We had a deal!”

Even though she could have easily caught up, Trixie decided to sit and think things over, watching Applejack’s belly lurch back and forth as she attempted to gallop. “Hm,” she said aloud, “Should I wait for her to come back and apologize… or should I go watch the fireworks?”

The receptionist was as perky as ever when she saw who was pushing his way through the double doors. “Hello again! Come to visit your brother?”

“Mm-hm.” Flam just gave her a noncommittal smile as he signed himself in. Having traveled for most of his adult life---and having been shuffled from town to town following his sister’s various jobs in his youth---he wasn’t used to being recognized, and it made him uncomfortable. Especially so in Ponyville; this may only be a hospital, but he didn’t want to become a ‘regular’ in any establishment here. The sooner we leave, the better, he thought, drawing the quill back to bar the ‘F’.

“He certainly is popular today! He’s had two visitors already.” They both glanced at the sign-in sheet, and his eyebrows raised a bit when he saw a chickenscratch ‘A. B.’. The receptionist cleared her throat and added “It seems your, uh, sister is still in there.”

It was subtle, but he’d caught the little trace of distaste in her hesitation, and Flam pressed his lips together in irritation. Great. He didn’t even want to know what unpleasantness Connie had caused on her way in.

Good old Hurricane Connie, he thought grimly as he walked the now-familiar route to his brother’s room. Leaving a trail of fucking destruction behind her.

He sighed, his eyes down at his hooves as they clacked against the glossy floor. Plan ‘A’---coming to Ponyville and sneaking off with his brother when the coltnapper’s back was turned---hadn’t gone so well. He was still banking on plan ‘B’ to work, because plan ‘C’ wasn’t too hot, either. Besides, if there was ever a pony who could chew Flim out and make him come to his senses, it would be their sister. As much bad blood as they had between them, Flim tended to heed her advice.

…Even more than mine, he thought with a kind of lurch in his heart. It’s probably because she never lets him win an argument, and I just fold like a house of cards when he starts sulking.

It was risky, though, and he knew it; Connie was unpredictable, and every time the three of them were together chances were good it would end in a squabble. Still, family was family, and if it hadn’t been for her, they never would have reunited. The thought made his head lift a little higher. Yes, if it hadn’t been for her, the FlimFlam Brothers wouldn’t be where they were today---they might have even been sent to different foster homes, never even knowing of the other’s existence. So what if she was a little rough around the edges? At least they---

He froze when he heard the sick THUMP of a hoof on flesh. It was followed by a crash, and then a staccato bam-bam-bam of punches. He was galloping before he realized it, his heart pounding up into his throat. The gut-wrenching sounds of a beating were coming from Flim’s room; he just instinctively knew it.

Dammit, she’s lost it! She can’t hit him! he thought as he ran. She knows she can’t! Why would she come all this way just to beat on him?!

Little fragments of thoughts were rattling around in his skull as his hooves slammed on the floor. He’s already got stitches--- he’s going to lose so much blood--- gods, why did I think calling her was a good idea?

“Celestia, let him be okay,” he said breathlessly as he slid to a stop in front of Flim’s room. He threw the door open, panting, bracing himself for the worst. “Flim! Brother! Are you alr---“

But what he saw made his words wither away. He had to blink a few times before what he was seeing finally registered in his brain:

He was hitting her.

Flim was out of his bed, kneeling over the prone form of his sister who had slumped into the corner. One of her eyes was already swollen shut, and both lips were split down the middle, dark blood dribbling down her cheeks. Flam could feel his legs begin to tremble when he saw the look in his twin’s eyes---he knew what anger looked like, but this was far beyond that. This was pure rage. Through a horrible, snarling maw, Flim was screaming one word for each punch:

“YOU---FUCKING---BITCH! YOU---FUCKING---BITCH!”

Without thinking, Flam ran into the room, hooked his forelegs under Flim’s arms and yanked him back. “Are you insane?! Stop it!”

His arms were pinwheeling in front of him as he tried to squirm out of his brother’s grip; even though he couldn’t reach her, he was still screaming at Connie, frothy spittle flying from his mouth, pounding his hooves in the air. He and Flam were fairly evenly matched when it came to physical strength, but his injuries made him easier to overpower, and after a frantic tussle Flam managed to pin him against the wall.

“What the FUCK is the matter with you?!” he hollered. Flim’s eyes were shut, his head darting from side to side, so he grabbed his face in both hooves and forced him to hold still.

“Let me go!”

“You don’t hit a mare, Flim! You just don’t do that!”

He feebly tried to push him off. “Don’t touch me!”

A gurgle from behind him caught his attention, and Flam let the blood-stained hospital gown slip out of his grip. He hurried to his sister’s side and crouched down, unsure of what to do, where it was safe to touch her. “Oh sweet Celestia. Connie, are you okay? It’s me.”

Her head lolled towards him and came to rest on his shoulder. “Flim…?”

That cut him deeper than he’d care to admit. “No. No, it’s me.” As carefully as he could, he put a hoof behind her head and helped her sit up. He magicked a kerchief out of his pocket and started to dab at the blood on her face, as futile as it seemed. She hacked out a cough, flinging a spray of red across his chest.

“F-Flim,” she croaked over his shoulder. “Are you going to tell him…?”

He’d risen, but one hoof was clamped against his side; he’d popped a few stitches, and his blood was soaking through the gown. “No! I refuse! I’m not doing your dirty work for you!”

Flam looked at what was on the floor between them: it was the photo-sleeve Flim always carried, but he’d ripped a picture out---the photo of the three of them had been torn down the middle. “Brother…”

“SHUT UP! Leave me alone!” He moved the hoof he was pointing from Flam to Connie. “And don’t you dare tell him. I’ll piss on your grave if you do!”

Flam could only watch helplessly as his brother did his best to storm out of the room---not an easy feat with a limp. He slowly turned back to Connie, who was regaining some of her strength; she pulled herself out of his arms and shakily sat up, smearing her bruised face with her fetlocks.

“Well… thad went better thad I thoughd it would,” she slurred.

“Connie, talk to me! What happened?”

Her face twisted to the side as she moved her tongue around her mouth, and she spat something pink onto the floor by Flam’s haunches. He peered at it for a moment before he realized what it was, and when he did, he could feel bile rising from his gut. “Is---is that a tooth?!”

“There,” she said as she rose. “Now we’re even.”

He cringed away from it, but even though he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the spreading pool of blood, he noticed her hobbling away in his peripheral vision. “Wait! Where are you going?”

“I’m going to a fucking tea party,” she snapped. “What do you think, you half-wit?! I’m going to get cleaned up.”

Flam just silently stared at the door as it closed behind her, then let his gaze drift back to the red stain his siblings had left all over the tiles. It was already soaking into the photograph, darkening the rip through Connie’s face. “What the hell?” he said, his mind fuzzy with disbelief. “What the hell?!”

“You’re bleeding.”

Flim startled a bit, but when he saw his brother’s familiar face behind him, he just went back to staring at his cup of coffee.

“You shouldn’t have walked all the way to the cafeteria with a wound like that,” Flam said as he very carefully took the seat opposite his twin. “And you certainly shouldn’t have done your best Marehammad Ali impression, either.”

He looked down at his hooves; even though he’d stopped in the washroom to wash up---scaring a few other stallions in the process---his fetlocks were still faintly stained pink.

“You’re going to need to get yourself stitched back up. And soon.”

He put a hoof to his heart and looked down---there were hot trickles of blood prickling their way down his hide, stinking of copper. “I know.”

“Why did you flip out like that?”

Flim took a sip, but he didn’t respond at first. Flam recognized that look---he was considering his wording very carefully. “You know bad temper runs in this family… such as it is.”

“That’s not an answ---“

“Flam, you beat me half to death once. Don’t tell me you don’t understand.”

He didn’t look up from his drink, but he heard the scrape of the chair legs against the floor. Flam wasn’t getting up to leave, however; he’d just jostled backwards in surprise. When he began to speak again, it was slow and measured, but not nearly as angry as Flim would have expected: “You know damn well why I did that.” He paused. “And I highly doubt Connie slept with Applejack.”

Flim snorted. “Thanks. I really needed that visual.”

“Just tell me what happened.”

The frog he was pressing against his broken stitches was starting to get sticky, but the pressure seemed to be helping to staunch the flow. He slowly ran his free hoof through his mane, and mumbled “I… Con---she said… something.”

“Brother.” Flam reached across the table and took a hoof in his. He was sure Flim was going to recoil, or bristle at the very least, but he didn’t even move. “Connie has said every possible horrible thing there is to say. What else could she possibly say that would make a normally-sane stallion completely lose his shit?”

“I’m not telling you.” Flim didn’t withdraw from his brother’s grip, using his magic instead to lift the cup to his lips. “I’m never telling you.”

“You know, brother, I can think of two—no, three times in our lives that you’ve tried to keep a secret from me.” His voice faltered when Flim yanked his hoof away, but he decided to continue when he saw him lift it to his face to rub his black eye. “None of those instances worked out too well, did they?”

“…No.”

“So what makes you think this time will be any different?”

Flim sighed and turned away. He did have a point; while they were both adept liars, keeping secrets from each other had always been fraught with peril. “I can’t tell you,” he finally said in a strained voice.

He turned his tired eyes back to Flam… his brother, his technically-younger brother. Ever since they’d been old enough to understand what ‘foaling’ meant, and how dangerous it could be, Flam had decided that he was the one most at fault for their mother’s death, being the second one out and all. He didn’t talk about it much, but Flim knew he carried that burden around with him everywhere they went. He knew they both had a sickening sense of pride and guilt twisted up inside them---pride in having overcome life’s obstacles as orphans, and guilt over the part they played in it. It’s what they’d grown up with. In their unstable lives, it was one of the few things they knew for sure---their mother was gone, but she was watching over them, somewhere. They often reassured each other they could survive anything, but now, after what Connie had just told him… he wasn’t so sure. The bitch had dropped that bombshell in his lap, and now it felt like some fundamental part of him had dislodged, broken off. He wasn’t sure of anything anymore.

He looked across the table.

How could he do the same to Flam? How could he drop the same bombshell on his beloved brother?

How could he tell him that their mother was still alive?

The Outing

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“FLIM!!”

He had his back to her, but at the sound of his name, he turned around, not even attempting to force a smile. “What is it, sweetheart?”

“Oh, no!” she said as she stomped into the room. “Don’t you dare---“

Her voice wavered once she looked him up and down. “Wh---the gown is---!”

“Oh, that?” Propping himself against the wall, he slid a hoof up under his arm and pinned it into place against the wound. Even though his heartbeat had slowed, each pulse was still forcing some blood to ooze out. “It’s nothing. I, er, popped a few stitches.”

She glanced about her; she hadn’t expected to catch him so far from his room. “What’re you doin’ out here?”

A pained look went across his features. “I just… needed to clear my head.”

That only deepened the dark knot in her chest. You can take a nice little stroll now, but you couldn’t bother to make it to the ultrasound?! “Well, get back t’yer room. I don’t wanna do this out here.”

“I’m not up for much walking right now.” It seemed he had just noticed her sour expression. “And what don’t you want to do out here? Because if it involves exchanging fluids, sweetheart, I think I should get stitched up before---“

“Oh, no. Oh, don’t you dare.” She rounded on him, making him flinch back against the wall. “I shoulda known better than to trust the likes a’you!”

“What---“

“You been runnin’ yer mouth a whole lot since ya got here, Flim, but not once---not ONCE!---didja ever bother to tell me the truth!”

His eyebrows arched, but the look of innocent surprise was quickly gone, a more reticent one taking its place. “What are you talking about, exactly?”

“Oh, I think you know what I’m talking about. Exactly.” She turned her head against her body and seized her saddlebags in her teeth. Her lips were still peeled back when she pried it loose and dropped it on the floor between them. Flim hesitantly reached for it, but she slammed a hoof down on the buckle; before she showed him the evidence, she wanted to give him just enough rope to hang himself. “To think how well I been treatin’ you, only t’find out you been lyin’ yer way into my---“ Her tongue jerked back in her mouth just as she was about to say heart. “---bed.”

“I’ve never told you a lie,” he countered with the beginnings of a frown. “Not. Once.”

In the periphery of her vision, she sensed some of the hospital staff pausing in their rounds to gawk---but, for some reason, she couldn’t be bothered to care. Adrenalin was shooting through her faster and faster, making her muscles feel like jelly. “Oh yeah? What about the headmaster’s daughter, huh? What about that sweet lil’ story you fed me?”

“What about it?”

“Oh, don’t play dumb.” Still keeping the saddlebag out of his reach, she began to pull the tie back, loosening the buckle. “The headmaster didn’t even have a daughter, did he?”

His neck had been drooping, but that startled him enough to look her in the eye---and that’s where she saw a strange little gleam. Was it fear, or genuine curiosity? Either way, she gave him ten seconds to respond before repeating “Did he?!”

He looked at her warily, his ears moving back and forth through his mane. “Now why would you say something like that?”

She let out a caustic laugh. “Evading the question. Ain’t that jes’ typical!”

“Applejack, I am in no mood---“

“ANSWER ME!”

The force of her holler made him shrink back into his hunched shoulders. For a moment neither spoke, her short, shallow breaths puffing against his cheek; then he closed his eyes, slowly licked his dry lips, and mumbled “…No.”

“What? Speak up!”

Like a popping cork, his temper suddenly blew out---much faster than she’d expected---and he threw his forelegs in the air in exasperation, even though it made him grimace with pain. “You heard me! No! He didn’t have a daughter!” He sarcastically motioned towards her head, as if placing an invisible crown. “Congratulations, Applejack, you finally figured it out! I’ll have them engrave your name on the trophy for last place!”

“Don’t you talk t’me like that, you—you---”

“Liar?” he snapped. He tapped his temple, then hers. “Think, Applejack, think! When did I say the words ‘the headmaster’s daughter’? When did those words come out of my mouth?”

Her lips thinned into her teeth. No. No, she was not going to admit he had her on a technicality! “Flim, there’s such a thing as ‘lying by omission’!”

“You made an assumption, and I didn’t bother correcting you. You can’t blame me for your own ignorance.”

The flush on her face darkened and she began to splutter. “Wh---you!---“

He took the opportunity to gingerly rise to his hooves and begin the slow trudge back to his room. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get re-stitched.”

Applejack’s tail was lashing against her legs as she thumped a hoof on the tiles. The foal twisted around and gave what felt like an answering kick against her gallbladder. “Don’t you turn yer back on me! Turn around an’ face the facts like a stallion, if that is what you are!”

At that, he paused, and she could clearly see his coat bristle up along his spine like porcupine quills. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, “What was that?”

“Turn around an’ face me!”

So he did. He turned back around. And when he did, the fury on his face was almost enough to make her falter. “Why?”

The iciness in that one little word made her shiver more than if he had shouted it. But she wasn’t about to back down. “Because I said so! Now you look me in the eye and explain this.”

His gaze followed her foreleg down to the hoof, and his lips parted when he saw what she was pointing at. “Wha---wait! Where did you get those?”

“Doesn’t matter. Explain it!”

His aura encircled the pictures, and tugged them from underneath her hoof. For a moment or two he stared at them the way a scientist might examine a specimen, his mouth moving around in wordless shapes---then, before she could even react, he’d flicked the photograph up off the floor and against her face, the corner nicking at her cheek. “Are you blind? What does this look like to you? What needs explaining?!”

“Everything about it!“

“Oh, I’m SO sorry. Does this confuse you, Applejack?” he snarled, advancing on her. The short hairs on her neck began to prickle; for the first time, she noticed that something serious had changed about him. His red-rimmed eyes suddenly seemed much older than yesterday, the last time she’d looked deeply into them. “How was it you put it, again? You weren’t raised to go ‘swinging around like that’?”

“Y-yeah. Exactly.” Without moving her head, she looked to the right. Shit. They’d already drawn a crowd. Off to one side, the nurse who had made her fall backwards the other day was shooing a candystriper away.

“You ‘pick a side and you stick to it’. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

He’d said it with so much venom that her flesh pricked with goosebumps. Baring her teeth, she pushed her snout up against his, blocking him from moving forward any further. “Don’t you call me that.”

“Why not? What’s changed, Applejack?”

“Everything! Everything’s changed!” She didn’t even care that she was screaming. “I only let you go an’ run yer hooves up an’ around me because I thought you were somethin’ special, Flim!” She stamped and darted her head away, because fresh new tears were blinking in her eyes. They felt hot and sticky against her cheeks and lashes. “You treated me like you really cared---like you WANTED t’hold a mare in yer arms!---an’ then, an’ then I find out yer nothin’ but a---“

“But a WHAT?!”

“I don’t know! I don’t even know if there’s a word fer it!”

He’d stopped clutching at his wound---both forehooves were on the ground. “It’s called ‘bisexual’, Applejack. It’s really not that difficult.”

“Sure it is!” She spared a quick peek down at the photographs, her lips trembling. “What kinda wires got crossed in yer brain t’make you this way, huh?”

He scoffed. “What do you think I am, a machine? I was born, not assembled in a factory!”

“Well if y’ask me, yer more mixed up than wet concrete in an earthquake! Did yer mama drink lye when she was pregnant or somethin’?”

The sudden pallor on his face would have been startling, had she noticed it. “Applejack. You be careful what you say, because you are treading on very thin ice right now.”

But her rant wasn’t over: “Even if I did settle down with you---which I’m not---how could I ever know you’d want me fer me? After all, I can’t do”---she fumbled with the photos before scooping one up---“this t’you, now, can I?”

“With the right equipment, you could do a reasonable facsimile---“

“Shut up!” The muscle running along her jaw spasmsed as she clenched her molars together. There were times when she could put up with his sarcasm, but this was definitely not one of them! “How could I possibly know you wouldn’t go chasin’ after some stallion?”

He did his best to shrug. “You’d have to trust me.”

“TRUST YOU?! After this?”

His whole face seemed to sag, his earlier anger melting into an expression she was having trouble reading. “Applejack…”

In a few clumsy movements, he pulled the gown over his head, rolled it up, and then pushed it up against his injury. She was so used to seeing him dressed that he suddenly seemed vulnerable and naked. “Listen. I don’t normally put up with this kind of shit---“

“ExCUSE me?!”

“---But I’ll do my best to explain,” he said, pretending he hadn’t heard the interjection. “Just because I’m attracted to more than one gender doesn’t mean I’d be incapable of monogamy. If I chose to be with you, that would be my choice to make.” His ears perked a bit. “Besides, you’re attracted to other stallions, too---shouldn’t I be just as worried you’d go running off with somepony else?”

“No! That ain’t the same! I know which team I wanna play on! I’m not confused!”

“Neither am I!” The spark in his eyes was back. “I have known who and what I am since I was a colt, Applejack, and I can guarantee you I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life!” It looked like he was about to say something else when he paused---and then he got that smirk that made her guts twist up. “If anything, I’d say you’re the confused one. Didn’t you try seafood fishing with Rainbow Da---“

Had she stuffed her hoof in his mouth any faster, she probably would have chipped his teeth. “Shush!!”

A glance over her shoulder, and her stomach dropped even farther. Dammit! One of the receptionists was trying in vain to hide her smile. Turning back to Flim, she hissed “I told you that in confidence!”

He pushed her hoof off his muzzle. “Well you’re the one who wanted to make a scene.”

“I-I didn’t know you’d---!“ She had to take a few deep breaths before she could speak again: “I told you that in private, Flim, an’ besides, I told you. You been keepin’ yer antics a secret!”

“You never asked.”

“ARGH! You fuckin’ slimy little snake!” The photo made a fluttery noise as she tore it between her hooves, Soarin’s’ face falling to one side, Flim’s to the other, and something that looked like an interrupted gelding operation between them.

“Damn. I was planning on keeping that one,” he muttered.

“Why? So you could fantasize about him while sleepin’ with me?”

“No. No, it’s not like that. Not at all. It’s just---” He gestured helplessly in front of him. “These were supposed to be private---“

“You shoulda told me!” she shouted, each word rising higher and higher. “You shoulda told me!”

“And if I had, would you have let me come within ten feet of you again?”

“HELL no!” A foreleg wound its protective way around her midsection. “Who knows what kinda diseases you’d be bringin’ home t’me!”

He pressed his frog against his forehead, as if trying to squeeze away a headache. “DISEASES? Are you kidding me?!”

“Does it look like I’m jokin’?”

When he opened his mouth, she added “Don’t answer that.”

They stared each other down for a minute, even though Applejack was still blinking her wet eyes. Flim spoke first: “You have to believe me, sweetheart… I was going to tell you. Eventually. But when you started talking about teams and sides… ” Breaking the stare-down, he drew in a shaky breath and sighed. “I just don’t understand. Why does this upset you so much, anyway?”

“Remember when we were talkin’ about our firsts, Flim?” she said. “Remember that? I told you about the colt I first let into my bed.”

“Yes, and?”

“I…I…” She wasn’t sure how to explain it; her thoughts were loose and rattling around in her head, and the waves of emotion certainly didn’t help. “He was always rarin’ to go, y’know? Like a lotta teenaged colts, he could ‘salute’ at the drop of a hat. An’ he kept on pressurin’ me t’go farther than I wanted to, and---" Hot mucous was gathering in her throat; she swallowed it down again and again, but still it kept rising. “And I gave in. I finally gave in! I figured I oughta be a good filly an’ take care a’my coltfriend and his… needs.”

The deep, hard frown-lines on Flim’s face began to lighten.

She shuffled, adjusted her weight so it was resting on her haunches, and drew her forelegs around the top of her belly. Scuffing her fetlocks around her elbows, she went on: “And---and y’know what? It was nice. Fer awhile, he was real sweet. He’d bring me flowers… Take me on picnics…"

He leaned towards her with some hesitancy when he thought he saw a softer expression in her downcast eyes. But it was gone when she sucked her breath in, her whole face clenching up in a pinch. “And then, BAM!” she said with a jab to the air, “Outta nowhere, he went an’ left me fer another colt! I-I wasn’t enough fer him, even though I gave him my---"

She smacked his outreached hoof away. He didn’t wince; it seemed like he had been expecting it.

“I gave him my cherry,” she went on in a near-whisper, “And all he gave me in return was a lotta heartache…" Then she snorted. “As well as somethin’ that cleared up in six to eight weeks with the right medication.”

“Applejack---“

She raised a hoof, cutting him off. “I thought you were different,” she said quietly. “But now I know otherwise.”

“What does that mean?”

“You jes’ admitted that the only reason you kept”---she shot a grim look at the torn photograph---“that from me was because you knew I wouldn’t let somepony like you near me again!”

“’Somepony like me’?”

“Yeah, somepony like you! Somepony like him! Somepony who’s got a mind so sex-addled he can’t decide whose crotch he wants to stuff his face into! Because, let’s face it---that’s all I am t’you, ain’t it? Some fun li’l merry-go-round you can ride when y’feel like it?”

“Applejack, if you really believe that, you’re even thicker than you look.”

“Don’t call me THICK!” she screamed, shoving his back against the wall.

“Hey!”

Her throat was clogged and her eyes blurry, so it took her a few seconds to realize who had jostled her to the side. Flam was hovering over his brother, an arm around his shoulders.

“What did you do that for?” he said, glaring at her.

“You shoulda heard what he called me!”

“You should have heard what she called me,” he retorted.

With a frustrated groan, Flam helped Flim back to his hooves. “I can’t believe it. I leave for five minutes, and you’re already fighting like foals on the playground.”

“This is more’n a little squabble, dammit!” There were runny rivulets down her cheeks, and each new gush of tears followed the trail, but she wouldn’t allow herself to begin sobbing. “That bastard you call a brother’s been keepin’ things from me!”

“Well, I doubt he knows everything about you, either---“

“It ain’t like he forgot to tell me his birthday or somethin’! This is serious! He’s---" Trying not to choke on her spit, she pushed out in a ragged voice “He’s, he’s, he’s been lettin’ stallions stuff him like a baked potato and I don’t like it!”

When he saw his brother turning to him, Flim looked away and grumbled “If you say ‘I told you so’, I’ll pop you in the kisser.”

“Look. Let’s just all take some deep breaths,” Flam said as his eyes moved from one to the other. “Flim’s had a really bad day, and you’re hormonal---“

“Don’t talk to me like I’m five! This ain’t got a thing t’do with me bein’ pregnant!” she snapped. “It’s about him! I ain’t in the wrong here!”

“Yes, you are!”

“Brother, don’t shout like that. You’re already ripped open; you don’t want to make it any wor---“

Pushing him aside, Flim took a step towards Applejack and leaned his head in close. The words he spoke were very quiet, but far from gentle: “You are wrong, Applejack, and I have a feeling you always will be. I’m sorry that you had a bad experience with some kid, but---but that’s all it was! That’s all he was, just some messed-up kid! I am a grown stallion, and more importantly, I’m not him.”

“Yer enough like him t’worry me!”

Flim took the ruined gown out from under his arm and passed it to his brother, then stuffed his frog against the still-weeping wound. “You might want to think before you speak, Applejack, because you’re starting to sound like Trixie.”

Flam’s bottom lip pulled out from under his moustache. “Hey.”

“Trixie?!” Her mane tugged to the side as her hackles went up. “Don’t compare me to that stuck-up blowhard! I’m nothin’ like her!”

“Let’s not---“

“Really? Because the way I see it, you’re both more than a little narrow-minded.” He prodded her chest. “How did it feel when she called you a ‘mud pony’, hm?”

“But---that’s---that’s different!” Why did she suddenly feel so flustered? “She was jes’ bein’ rude fer no reason!”

Flam’s ears were folded back. “Come on, now---"

“And I suppose your reason is a good one,” Flim sniffed.

“You bet yer ass it is! You’ve proven yerself untrustworthy, time an’ time again! And this is the last straw, Flim!”

His blood had begun to trickle over his fetlocks and down his chest. “I’ve gone out of my way to prove myself to you! I could have run off while your brother was knocked out, but I didn’t. I could have left when you were at the market, but I didn’t. I could have done any number of things when you weren’t looking, but. I. Didn’t.”

“Oh, come off it! I know why you were stickin’ around, aside from gettin’ to enjoy a little rumpy-pumpy!” She tossed her head towards his twin. “You were jes’ waitin’ fer him to come find you, weren’tcha?!”

“Well… yes,” he said carefully, his eyes not quite settling anywhere. “I was waiting for my brother. You’re right on that, at least. But that doesn’t mean I don’t…!”

And then his voice hitched. The flurry of emotions on his face was drifting into a tight kind of sadness. Finally, he lifted his eyes from the floor and looked at her. “I care about you, sweetheart. Really, I do. But you’re not being fair!”

“I’M not bein’ fair? Yer the one who’s been leadin’ me on!” With a grunt, she moved her body to the left to accommodate the twisting inside her. “What d’you expect me to tell my daughter when she sees her Papa checkin’ out another stallion?”

“Well what am I supposed to tell my daughter if she comes crying to me because her mother won’t accept her?”

“That ain’t gonna happen! I’m-a raise her better than that! Besides, I’d love her no matter what!”

“But you couldn’t love me no matter what.”

That shocked her so much she took a faltering step back.

“Look, I have been trying my hardest here. Do you think this has been easy for me? For Celestia’s sake, what more do I have to do?!”

“I’ll tell you what you gotta do: make up yer mind! Is it gonna be me, or is it gonna be bouncin’ back and forth from mares to stallions?”

He shot her a look that she’d only seen once before in her life---an expression of anger, mixed with a dark resignation. “So you’re asking me to be somepony I’m not.”

“I’m jes’ tellin’ you that you gotta stop actin’ like some kinda whore!”

The words had left her mouth a few seconds before her brain realized what they were, and when it did, she felt a slow, cold, wiggling shame deep inside her. “I, uh, I mean---"

But it was too late. He’d heard it loud and clear. “Wow.”

“That’s---I didn’t---" The words just kept spilling out, even as she fumbled over them. “I meant---"

“Oh, I know what you meant,” he said, his voice full of acid. “You really think you can claim some moral superiority over me?”

“Well, sure I can!”

“That’s quite something coming from Miss Peanut Butter Legs.”

“’Peanut Butter Legs’?” she said, her muzzle all scrunched.

Flim was sneering. “Yeah. They spread easily!”

Even before she felt herself gasp, she reacted---and slapped him as hard as she could across the face.

“Okay, that’s it. We’re leaving.” Flam put an arm around his stunned brother, trying to get him to stand back up. He turned his scowl from Applejack to the rubberneckers behind them. “Show’s over, folks! Go home and tell your families about the exciting day you had!”

“She hit me,” Flim mumbled as he staggered up off the floor.

“To be fair, she slapped you, and you did kind of have that coming. Didn’t you learn your lesson the last time you called a mare that?” It sounded like he was trying to be jovial, but it was falling flat. “Come now, brother. That wound’s not going to stitch itself.”

“W-where d’you think yer going?” she said hoarsely.

Without looking back, Flam said “I told you: we’re leaving.”

“What?! Y’can’t jes’ leave me here!”

Flim yanked himself away from Flam and spun around on the spot, his muzzle up against hers. “Watch me!”

“Flim, you can’t---"

“You can’t tell me what I can and can’t do! You have made it abundantly clear that you’re not interested in ‘somepony like me’, so why should I waste any more of my time? Or yours, for that matter?”

“We---" Why did it feel like the room was lurching to the side? “We coulda had something, Flim! This ain’t---"

The hoof on her lips felt surprisingly gentle. “Applejack,” he began slowly, “I think I could have loved you.”

It felt like every organ inside her moved at once, and it wasn’t because of the foal.

“But… I don’t think the reverse is true.” Neither of them watched as Flam busied himself with gathering the scattered photographs. “You might have loved the idea of me, but not…”

He trailed off, running a hoof through his mane. “What you’re asking of me… well, it’s impossible. I could live with you and just you for a hundred years and I still wouldn’t be the nice straight stallion you really want! It’s not something I could do, even if I wanted to, no more than cutting my horn off would make me an Earth pony. It’s not who I am, and…” For a moment he looked older than the Earth itself. “…you just can’t seem to reconcile that.”

Flam put his foreleg between them. “I hate to interrupt, but if you lose any more blood I may be forced to give you mouth-to-mouth, and I don’t think either of us wants that.”

“He’s right.” That’s all he said before turning his back on her again.

“Flim!” She bolted to her hooves, but they seemed rooted in place. “Flim, wait!”

He stopped, but didn’t look back.

“Are you leavin’ this hallway---or this town?”

The silence answered for him.

Instead of coherent thoughts, her brain began popping with hot bursts of light. She wanted to scream, to cuss, to howl at the top of her lungs, but the words she forced out were barely above a whimper: “I’ll sic my brother on your sorry ass! He tracked you down once---he can track you down again!”

“You do that!” Flam snapped. “You do that and he’ll be in leg irons so fast his head will spin!”

He heard her gasp, but didn’t allow her enough time to answer, ticking off each charge with a hoofbeat: “Stalking, breaking and entering, assault with a deadly weapon, coltnapping, false imprisonment, uttering threats, aggravated assault. Would you like me to go on?”

“You… you wouldn’t,” she hissed.

“We won’t if he keeps the hell away from us! Oh, but don’t you worry,” he added when he saw the colour seep from her face, “I’m sure he’ll do well in prison. A big fellow like him won’t end up somepony’s wife.”

Flim groaned and leaned a little more heavily against him. “Come on, Flam. That’s not helping.”

“The point is, Miss Apple,” he continued, “The pony most at fault here is your brother, so don’t place the blame on mine!”

“Flam. Shut up.” He moved as if he was stuck in sludge, but he did manage to meet her eye. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he murmured, still lightly poking his injury, “But… I have to go.”

Somehow she spoke, even though she felt clamped, from the tips of her ears to her soft underhooves. “Flim, you listen’a me and you listen good. If yer jes’ goin’ back t’yer room, fine. Be my guest.”

He nodded. Under a tiny, sandy-coloured spark, the saddlebags slid across the floor, but Flam was the only one who seemed surprised.
Her voice dropped even lower as she placed a hoof on her belly. “But if you leave us here now… don’t you dare come back.”

The two brothers stared at her, and then Flam turned his head. Flim stayed there for a bit longer, but eventually he wilted, his eyes closing, and he turned to follow his twin down the hall. She watched as his tail sunk down between his legs, and the memories of all the times he’d curled it around hers came stabbing at her.

As much as she wanted to call out to him again, something told her it would be useless.

That was it. The dam broke, and she burst into tears, finally letting herself cry openly. Instinct and memory guided her more than her vision could, and she stumbled her way down the hall toward the Mares’ Room. Her chest was heaving in and out, her choked-back sobs threatening to splinter her ribs as she pushed inside. Wash your face, the quiet voice in her head kept saying, You need to wash your face.

“Un-huhn,” she whimpered.

Be a brave girl, and go and wash your face.

She had shuffled nearly to the sink when she realized someone was already standing there, and she froze in her tracks when she saw who it was. “C-Connie?!”

“Who wants to kn---" She’d lifted her head from the water gushing down the drain, and when her eyes focused, Applejack could swear they softened a little. At least, the one that wasn’t disappearing under dark, swelling eyelids did. “Oh. It’s you.”

She wanted to scream, to run, to---to do anything but stare at the red-streaked sink under the older mare’s hooves.

“You look like you’ve been kicked in the chin, sweetness. What happened to you?”

She eyed the bruised flesh on her face. “I was gonna ask you the same thing.”

Turning off the taps, she yanked a few paper towels from the dispenser and started blotting them against her cheeks. “I asked first.”

Applejack pressed her lip against her lower teeth, trying as hard as she could to keep from bawling like a baby again. She couldn’t---not now. “Flim happened to me,” she whispered.

“Oh,” was all she said for a few long, tense minutes. Then, turning to the mirror, she added “That was my answer, too.”

“He---?” There it was again, that catch of bile in her throat. Connie’s lips looked like the smashed worms that floated on sidewalks after a rainstorm. “He beat you?!”

“Mm-hm.”

“Oh Celestia.” She looked despondently down at her hooves; after a moment, a wad of balled-up toilet paper was floated over to her. She took it and gingerly pressed it against the drying tears. “I knew---I jes’ knew it! I knew I made the right decision!”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t marry him!” she said with a sudden fierceness. “I can’t marry a stallion who beats on mares!” Sinking to her haunches, she pulled her forelegs up against her body. “Who knows what he’d do to me---"

“Hey.”

She only had a second to glance at the hoof before it was under her chin, tilting her head up, but she’d noticed something odd---it wasn’t scuffed in the slightest. No sign of resistance, no self-defense. She jes’ lay there an’ took it? It didn’t even look like she’d put her arms over her face to protect herself.

“To be honest, I think Flim’s wanted to take a swing at me for years,” Connie said. She was jerking Applejack’s head to and fro in an attempt to make eye contact. “He wouldn’t raise his hoof to you---not ever.”

She yanked herself away. “I don’t care! I still ain’t gonna marry him! In fact, I, I---"

Somepony behind them opened the door, took one look at the scene before her, and quickly retreated from the bathroom.

“I’m never lettin’ him touch me again,” she finished, her eyes and mouth all hot.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Connie reach out to her, but just as she was about to turn and stomp off, she noticed what was being offered wasn’t a comforting pat, but an opened flask.

“Jeez, what don’t you carry in that purse?” she said with a weak laugh.

“Foundation,” she replied, studying her freshly-marred reflection. “I carry a stick of concealer on me, but I don’t think that’s going to cover this.”

Applejack pushed the flask away, a little shiver going up her spine when her hooftip pierced the magical aura. “I can’t drink, Connie. In case y’forgot, I’m pregnant.”

“More for me, then.”

Whatever was in there smelled eighty-proof at least, but she downed three gulps without so much as a wince. Easily flicking the cap back in place, she shook her head a little and let out a sigh. “Ahh. Much better.”

“You shouldn’t drink so much after losin’ blood---"

But she was interrupted. “What did he do to you?”

“He---he called---he said I---" Strange. It had happened mere minutes ago, and yet the whole fight was blurry in her mind, everything they’d said tangled like a snarl of yarn. She decided to start at the end, and see if she could work her way back to the beginning: “Didja know he was queer?!”

Connie looked up, surprised. “Well of course I did. Didn’t you?”

Applejack’s eyes wavered for a moment, and then drifted away. She heard a little giggle escape, and turned back to glare at her.

“Celestia’s tits!” she said with a hoof over her mouth. “You really had no idea?”

“Don’t laugh at me!” she spat.

“Oh, sweetness…” Turning her back to the sinks, she drooped her still-grinning face down and slumped into a sitting position. She was shaking her head, and it was obvious she was trying not to laugh. “I’ve known he was queer since he was three years old.” She rested her chin on her hoof and gave Applejack the warmest smile she’d seen yet. “He wanted to be the Mane-iac for Nightmare Night.”

In any other circumstance, she probably would have laughed. Now she just felt sick.

“Oh! And about a year after that, he asked why the handsome prince always rescues a princess instead of another prince. I had to wait another thirteen years before he told me, and when he did, I just said ‘I know’.” She sloshed her flask around, trying to judge how much was left. “But that doesn’t explain why you’re a blubbering mess. It’s not contagious, you know.” Another shot, and had she not been wearing lipstick, the smirk on her face would have looked exactly like Flim’s. “If it was, I would have exposed myself to it long ago. Stallions can be such pigs.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, and her body began to shake anew. Her eyes were sore and puffy after so much crying, so all she could do was sink down to the floor. She hadn’t realized how hot her face had become until her cheek brushed the cool linoleum. The soothing, kind voice she sometimes heard in her thoughts was gone, a harder one now ringing in its place: Look at you. Cryin’ and lyin’ on a dirty bathroom floor, and all because a‘what? Some jerk? Y’sure are pathetic, AJ.

“Did he cheat on you?”

“N-n-no…”

“Then why are you sniveling like that?”

She couldn’t answer. What was she supposed to say? That Flim never actually lied, but he never told the whole truth? That she was now, just this very moment, starting to realize that it may have been her own careless, hurtful words that made him keep that secret hidden, locked away inside…?

“Hey.” Instead of helping her up, Connie folded her legs under her body and lowered her head to the floor beside Applejack’s. “C’mon. Buck up, kiddo.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.” She touched her cheek. “Haven’t you ever been taught to listen to your elder ponies? Stallions are a dime a dozen. Trust me.”

“No, they’re not,” she mumbled, hating how simpering it sounded.

“So he broke your heart. So what? You’re young, you’re pretty. You’ll snag a new one soon.”

She tried to speak. All she wanted to say was ’I don’t WANT another one’, but the words just weren’t there. “W-why aintcha stickin’ up fer him, huh? He’s yer brother!”

Connie raised herself off the floor and made a feeble attempt to pat the dust off her ankles. “I tried meddling in his love life once. It... was unpleasant, to say the least.” She unpinned her bun and shook her curls loose. “Where iff he now?” she said around the hairpin in her teeth.

“I… I dunno. I think he went back to his room.” The sight of his half-split gash flashed in her mind, and she tried to shrug it away. That’s when she spotted something, one little detail that had eluded her before: now that Connie was fussing with her mane, sitting on her haunches with her forelegs over her head, her belly was exposed---and there was a paper-fine white scar running horizontally over her teats.

“A word to the wise, sweetness?” she said as she tucked the last lock into place. “I don’t think he wants to see either of us for quite awhile. Give him some space, yeah?”

“…A’course.”

She gave her muddied reflection a final once-over. “Well, that’s as good as it’s going to get.” Again she fiddled with her purse, and plucked a card from one of the inner pockets. “Here,” she said, extending it towards Applejack, “It’s my information. My P.O. box, my agent’s name, and pretty much anything else I could squeeze on there.”

When she realized Applejack wasn’t going to take it, she placed it on the corner of the counter, away from the splashes she’d made. “If the baby needs something, you let me know.”

There was a spurt of feeling right under her heart, but she didn’t really know what it was. “Why?”

The door was already swinging shut behind her.

Spike opened the door on the third knock, but instead of greeting their guest, he turned to call over his shoulder: “Hey, Twilight? How much ice cream do we have left?”

He could hear her sigh echo down the staircase. “About three quarts, but don’t even think about it, Spike. You’ll spoil your appetite.”

“It’s, uh…” He looked Applejack up and down, and raised a claw to cup her tear-stained cheek. “It’s not for me.”

Crossroads

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“You’ll have to be more specific than that, Spike,” Twilight said as she half-trotted, half-floated down the staircase. “Last time you said you were going to ‘share’ it with Tank, and he didn’t get one---“

She froze on the last step when she noticed Spike’s not-so-subtle motions towards Applejack. Twilight took one look at her friend, and her wings flared up in a bristling horror. “Oh, by the goddesses…! Applejack, I---What happened?!”

Answering seemed impossible. Applejack tried to breathe in through her nose, but all she could manage was a snotty, snuffling grunt.

“It’s not the foal, is it?” She hurried over and put a hoof on her trembling shoulder. “Is something wrong with her?”

“N-no, I…”

“Are you spotting? Is she still moving? Did they find an abnormali---”

A hoof slammed down on hers before she could move it to Applejack’s side. Startled, Twilight looked back to her friend’s face; she had expected to see the sadness there, but on some primeval level, she recognized it not as the grief of a mother, but something else entirely.

“Dammit, Twi! D’you know why you got two ears but only one mouth? It’s so y’can do twice the listenin’ an’ half the talkin!”

She bit her lip when she heard her voice reverb off the crystal walls, a haunting echo of own Ma’s words that she’d heard so often before.

“I’m sorry, Twilight,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to snap like that. I…”

“No, no, it’s fine. I’m sorry, too.” Sitting on her haunches, she put both forehooves on Applejack’s shoulders and squared her purple eyes on the green ones. “I’m listening.”

“It’s…” And the words left her. She just couldn’t speak. She was just standing there---in front of a Princess, no less!---weak and mute and stupid, and suddenly it felt like all the strength and knowledge she’d accumulated over the years had been sucked right out of her. It felt like she was seventeen again, just a dumb, dirty, gullible, trusting mud pony watching her coltfriend walking away from her less than a week before prom, after she’d saved up for the dress, the dress she’d picked out based on the corsage he’d sworn he would buy her stop it stop it stop thinking about it, AJ, yer stronger than that!…

“It’s Flim,” she moaned, dropping her face against Twilight’s neck. “The foal’s f-fine, but… Flim… he…”

Without breaking the hug, Twilight turned her head. “Spike?”

“I’m on it,” he said, already sprinting towards the kitchen.

A gust of wind whistled through the opened door, making them both shiver despite their shared body heat. “Applejack,” she said, brushing her hoof against the wet, freckled cheek, “Do you want to come in?”

“Uh-h-h-huh,” she managed.

“C’mon. Let’s get you somewhere more comfortable than a doorway.”

The sweep of a wing over her back guided her in through the door, which closed behind them with a pristine click. It sounded so different than the earthy thump of the old library door, something she hadn’t realized she missed until now. Applejack’s head drooped further. It wasn’t that she was afraid of change, but... did it all have to happen so fast?

They walked in a slow silence through the seemingly-neverending hallway, Applejack’s legs trembling worse than at the end of Apple Bucking season. Her eyes were so lidded they were almost closed, and she leaned heavily against her friend, letting her lead her like a blind pony’s dog; when she felt the press of soft cushions against her back legs, she buckled, collapsing into a chair she hadn’t realized was there.

A hoof under her chin tilted her head up, and Applejack finally opened her eyes, her tears sticking to her lashes. Twilight was trying to look comforting, but there was clear worry in her eyes. “Okay. Nopony’s going to walk in on us now. Heh, except for Spike, but he’s bringing the ice cream.”

“I…”

Twilight’s shoulder pressed against her chin, and she let her head fall forward again, weeping. “He…He… He’s leavin,” she sobbed. “Flim’s leavin’ me. He’s…”

“Shh. Shh, sweetie. Shh.”

At first she thought Twilight was twisting her face away to keep from having to feel the rivulets of snot and tears, but it then it clicked that she was actually just moving to keep from putting an eye out with her horn. It was such a simple gesture, but there was so much care and concern behind it that it made her choke up anew, and she groaned in a deep-seated pain when she thought of how many unfamiliar things she’d have to teach her little unicorn daughter.

“Here.” A flash of magic set the dormant fireplace ablaze, and Twilight pulled back, her lips spread in a warm smile. Applejack rubbed her eyes and looked around in surprise; despite her many visits to the Palace, she’d had no idea that this cozy little room even existed. The glow of the fire cast soft shadows around the walls, most of which were hidden behind bookcases, bridged by a well-worn throw rug that had several generations’ worth of cutie marks stitched into it. This must be her private reading room, she realized, and quivered a little at the thought of having entered a place Twilight would consider… intimate?

“So,” Twilight said, sitting herself on the rug beside the chair, “Do you want to, uh… talk about it?”
It took her several shaky breaths before she found her voice again. “He’s leavin’ me,” she said again, and then looked down at where her lap used to be. “He’s leavin’ us.”

Twilight folded her ankles over the arm of the chair. “What makes you think that?”

“Because---because he said so!”

“Did you have a fight?”

She nodded numbly.

“What did he say?” It looked like she was trying her hardest to keep a calm demeanour, but one of her eyelids was flickering. “What did he do to hurt you?”

Before she could answer, there was a half-hearted knock on the door, followed by Spike poking his head into the room. He instantly recognized The Look on Twilight’s face, and braced himself. “Uh… am I interrupting?”

“Not at all,” she said, gesturing for him to come in. He did so hesitantly; years of living amongst mares had taught him to sense the dangerous crackle of estrogen in the air.

Better tread carefully. “So, uh, sorry it took me so long, but I wanted to whip up something fancy.”

It took a few bleary blinks before Applejack realized what had been placed in front of her. Spike had prepared a giant bowl of ice cream, topped with sprinkles and three kinds of syrup. There was even a cherry propped on of a pillow of whipped cream.

“I call it the ‘Heartbreak Special’!”

Out of the corner of her eye she saw him dodge a swat from Twilight.

“What?” he said, still shielding his head. “I thought that’s what she needed!”

She could see Twilight drawing in a breath, so she decided to butt in before the reproach could come: “Thank ya kindly,” she said through a very raw throat, “This… looks wonderful.”

“Anything else you want while I’m up?” he said, bouncing on his heels. “Cocoa, maybe? Or I could make some herbal tea---”

“I… I’d like...” She stared at the ice cream in front of her, and, with a stabbing kind of rage, noticed something familiar about the shape of the two lopsided scoops. All that was missing was a strategically-placed banana. And maybe a very sharp knife. “I want Flim Skim’s balls on a platter!!”

Spike was already inching backwards. “Uh, well, w-we have jasmine or chamomile.”

“Why not make a pot of both?” Twilight wasn’t sure whether to reach out to her distressed friend or her assistant, who was beginning to nibble on his claw-tips. “We might be here for awhile.”

He heaved a visible sigh of relief when he realized he had an out. “Great! I’ll do that. I’ll just leave you two, and---“

“NO!”

She didn’t realize she’d slammed her hooves on the armrests until she saw them both jump. “No,” Applejack repeated, and pointed right at him. “You stay right there, and you listen!”

“Applejack---“

She cut her off. “Let him stay, Twi’. Best he hear this, so that he never, ever goes on t’hurt a mare the way Flim hurt me!”

Carefully leaning in, she drew a wing beside her face to block Spike from reading her lips. “Applejack,” she whispered, “Do you know how old he is?”

“I don’t care! It’s a good learning experience fer a young fella! Ain’t that what yer all about, huh? Learning experiences?”

“Well, yes, but---“ She put a hoof over her mouth, coughed, and looked somewhere to her left. “Learning should be appropriate for its intended audience. What if you feel like, you know, discussing… more… private matters?”

She turned to him, seemingly oblivious to how tiny his pupils had become. “Spike! D’you know where babies come from?”

For a moment he looked frozen. Then he slowly lifted his arms, and made a circle with his index and thumb. Using his other hand, he poked a claw into the ring, then withdrew it. “Not to put too fine a point on it, but, yeah, I do.”

She felt her mouth open a little when she noticed he kept repeating the gesture, and hoped neither of them noticed her cheeks flush. “Uh---Good! Then you c’n stay.”

“You seem surprised, Applejack.” With a sharp jab of her pinions, she signaled for him to stop, and he sheepishly dropped his claws back to his sides. “Do you really think I’d tell him some old ponytale about a stork?”

“She answered every question I had,” he said, his mouth screwed to the side in embarrassment. “And every question I didn’t know I had. And…” He put his arms around himself and shuddered. “Then she started asking me questions, and, hoo boy---the term ‘pop quiz’ hasn’t seemed the same since.“

“Well I wasn’t going to lie, Spike!”

“Flim did,” Applejack mumbled. The cherry was beginning to slide down the side of the melting ice cream, but she couldn’t bring herself to taste it, even though it seemed like such a waste. Another tear hit the top of her belly. Such a waste… “Flim’s been lyin’ this whole time.”

She watched the magical aura surround her dessert and re-freeze it. Twilight was nodding for her to continue. “Was that what the fight was about?”

“You know what, Twilight? I shoulda listened to you when I had the chance!” One of them, she didn’t see who, had placed a box of tissues by her elbow, so she ripped a few out and smeared the wad against her face. “You were right! Some stallions jes’ act sweet, ‘cause it gets ‘em what they want! I didn’t believe you at the time, but---but if I’d listened---“ She blew her nose---not that it did much good---and chucked the sodden tissues into the fireplace. “Aw, what am I sayin’? By then it was too late! I was in too deep, he’d---he’d already---we’d---“

“I’m not really following,” Twilight said gently. She knew---but was definitely not about to tell Applejack---the effects of progesterone on the brain, and how addled a pregnant mare’s memories could get; this conversation was going to need some delicate steering. “Why don’t you go back to the start, and go from there?”

“The start? What’s the start?” She began irritably scratching around her ears. Great. Am I growin’ hair in there, too? “Was it when he knocked me up? Or when we started dancin’? Or was it even before that, when he barged into my life with that tree-suckin’ monstrosity?” Her hooves were restless, going from her stretched belly, to her ears, then to her hat, and around again. “Or was it when he pulled me in close an’ called me ‘sweetheart’ fer the first time? Was he lyin’ then? Y’know, I think the only time he ever told me the whole truth was when I said I was fallin’ fer him, and he told me I’d ‘get hurt on the way down’! Argh!” That particular memory came back with all its horrible, caustic emotions, and she flung her hat to the floor. “Dammit, gimme that ice cream!”

Twilight and Spike looked on in amazement as she chomped half of it down in three bites.

“An’ you know the worst part?” she went on, licking a dollop of whipped cream off the corner of her mouth. “The worst part is, I think he even believed some of the stuff he was fillin’ my head with! I mean, when ya got a mouth like a sewer pipe, maybe after awhile y’stop noticin’ when yer spewing shit! Ah---“ She pushed a hoof against her forehead as the underside of her scalp cramped up. “Brainfreeze!”

“I know how to fix that!” His reptilian tongue snaked out of his mouth, curled up on itself, and slithered back inside. “Presth ith againsth ve roov of your mouf. Worfs efery time.”

“I’m not sure if Applejack can do that, Spike. Pony tongues can do amazing things, but they aren’t as talented as dragons’.” She blushed and squeezed her eyes shut. “And that came out entirely wrong.”

Applejack pushed the dish away, her head still throbbing. “Great. Now even ice cream’s turning against me.”

“Hey.” The nuzzle was light, unobtrusive, and seemed to make her headache edge back. “You said you were falling for him...?”

Gods, why did she have to say that? Why did she have to say that twice?“Y-yeah.”

The next words were low and soft: “How far did you fall?”

“I… I don’t know, Twilight! I don’t know,” she said, and brushed her fetlocks over her eyes. “There were so many times I felt like throttlin’ him, but… but there were times I felt like…” Like what? The words were coming from a part of her she didn’t know she had, somewhere deep in her chest: “…Like the whole world was spinnin’ around us, but it didn’t matter, ‘cause it was jes’ him an’ me.”

“Like it didn’t matter that you drool in your sleep and he snores, because you still wake up smiling?”

That brought a grin to her face. “Yeah, but the other way around! It was like… it didn’t matter that I got caught sneakin’ him into my room, ‘cause fer once, I didn’t regret it.” The grin softened into a lazy smile, and again she said “I didn’t regret it. That night I spent with him was so nice. An’ he was so sweet... It was worth gettin’ a faceful of piss!”

“O-kay,” she said as her face paled. “That’s… a little more than I needed to know about your, ahem, particular proclivities, Applejack.” Then she threw a hoof over her heart in the first motion of a Pinkie Pie Swear. “But I’m not going to judge! Watersports are, for the most part, harmless. If you want to be a urolagniac, that’s your---”

“Oh, no. No, no, no.” Now she was laughing, even though some tears were still oozing out. “It’s nothin’ like that! Big MacIntosh was so steamed when he found Flim in my bedroom he dumped my chamber pot all over us!”

Spike pressed his palm against his temple. “A ’urolangiac’?”

“Oh.” A little pink lit up her face, and she giggled. “Oh my goodness. You wouldn’t believe the mental image I just had! Well, that’s what I get for jumping to conclusions.”

“...Sure was brave of him to risk life an’ limb fer me,” she said.

Although it was barely audible, Twilight had heard. “Well, there’s a fine line between bravery and stupidity.”

They turned in the direction of pattering footsteps. Spike was heading towards the reference section, scratching his head.

“Huh. He might know ‘tab a goes in slot b’, but I guess there are some things he’s still got to learn.”

“And I’d like to keep it that way, at least for now.” Even though he was probably out of hearing range, she lowered her voice anyway: “If you really think he should stay and listen, would you mind keeping some of the details a little… vague?”

“I gotcha. No beejays, jes’ cuddlin’.”

She got a strange look on her face, one Applejack hadn’t seen since the ultrasound. “The little ones just grow up so fast.”

And then her eyes lost their misty covering and bugged out in horror.

“What?” Her friend was holding a tremulous hoof over her mouth, and for all intents and purposes looked like she’d just blabbed Equestrian secrets to an invading army. “Sugarcube, what is it?”

The hoof lowered from her mouth, and bit by bit, the colour returned to her face. “Applejack… I think I just turned into my brother!”

“Huh?”

She pulled her knees up to her barrel and wrapped her forelegs around them, rocking like a little filly. The lower part of her face was obscured, but the upturned sides of her grin were showing. “’The little ones grow up so fast’. That’s exactly what he said after he caught me in a similarly compromising position.”

“You mean---?”

“Yup,” she said, and laughed into her chest, looking for a moment as bashful as Applejack had ever seen her. “Except we were on the couch, and he was supposed to be at an Oubliettes and Ogres meeting. The one night he comes home early...!”

Her earlier gloom lifted, if only momentarily. “So, did he get his hooves on a chamber pot?”

“No. But… well, let’s just say he rolled eighteen in Strength, and one in Wisdom. Not a good combination.”

Applejack couldn’t help but laugh. It felt like her tears were drying. “I have no idea what that means.”

“It means he went ballistic,” she smirked. “He grabbed a lamp and went after my coltfriend, roaring at the top of his lungs.”

“Heh.” She nudged what was left of the sundae over to Twilight, and lifted it in a toast. “Here’s to overprotective big brothers.”

She tilted her head in a mock-bow, and let the tip of her tongue graze over the proffered dessert. “And to mares who don’t plan far enough ahead.”

“To extremely awkward morning-after conversations!”

Twilight’s feathers were fluttering out from her sides as she laughed. “To the universal stupidity of colts who lose braincells when the blood flows lower!”

“And to full-grown stallions who scream like little fillies!”

They locked eyes over the top of the ice cream mound, and gave each other matching smiles. The gears in her brain had been clunking around clumsily ever since she’d entered, but now they clicked right into place: “Jeez, Twilight… you were in love once, too, weren’tcha?”

“Yeah…” she said as her eyes lazily traced around the floor. “More than once, actually.”

“I’m back!” Spike declared as he slowly staggered towards them, an opened dictionary balanced on his spread palms. “And I found out what Twilight was talking about back there!”

He peeked over the pages at the two giggling mares, and clapped the book closed. “What did I miss?”

Applejack adjusted her hat, grinning. “Nothin’ much, Spike.”

Twilight pulled her lower lip into her mouth. “Yes, nothing much… besides AJ admitting that she’s in love.”

“WHAT?!”

He let the book drop to the floor. “Whoa! Really?”

“NO!” Applejack sat up harshly, her hind hooves inadvertently kicking the dessert across the tiles. “No, I did NOT say that!”

“Applejack.” Using her magic to right the upturned bowl, she again took a hoof between her own. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

She yanked it away. “A’course it is! I can’t believe I fell fer that lyin’ little weasel!”

“So you did fall for him? I don’t get it. Are you or aren’t you in l-mmph!”

The tail in his mouth had shut him up, but it was the glare that kept him that way. Turning back to her friend, Twilight patted her on the shoulder and said “Why don’t you tell me what the fight was about? It’ll be good to get it off your chest. Maybe we can even figure out how you two can make up.”

“Ppft. This ain’t somethin’ that can be fixed.”

“Sure it is!” she said brightly. “Think of everything we’ve been through together. Our friendship has always beaten the odds, right?”

“Right, but---”

“So who’s to say a little lovers’ spat can’t be fixed? You said yourself that spending a night with him was worth facing your brother’s fury! Isn’t a chance at love worth fighting for?”

“I hate to tell you this, but love doesn’t always conquer all,” she said with a bitter laugh. She wasn’t sure if using Flim’s own words against him was ironic, or just spiteful. “Sure, I’m mad at him fer lyin’ t’me, but it ain’t jes’ that. He ain’t the kinda pony I wanna raise a family with, an’ he told me he ain’t gonna change! So why bother?”

“Hey, even Discord changed his ways,” Spike pointed out. “More or less.”

“And Trixie apologized for her behaviour.”

Had her nostrils not been stuffed from her crying jag, she would have snorted. “Oh yeah. Trixie. She’s a real angel, that one.”

After exchanging an uneasy glance with her assistant, Twilight drew a breath and said, slowly, “Applejack, we just want what’s best for you. If that ultimately means breaking up with Flim, we’ll understand.”

She thinned her lips. “Sounds like there’s a ‘but’ in there.”

“Sometimes what we think is a dead end turns out to be a hidden crossroad.”

The confusion was fairly evident on her face, so Twilight shuffled closer, looking at her in earnest. “You’ve seemed so different lately. You’ve practically been glowing, and not just from the pregnancy! Now, I may not be an expert when it comes to matters of the heart, but when you were talking about lying next to him in bed, well... I’ve never seen you smile like that before.”

“So?!” she spat, her face all hot. Is she stickin’ up fer him?

As if reading her thoughts, she went on: “Don’t get me wrong; I don’t doubt that Flim’s capable of doing something awful. And if he’s hurt you, well, I’ll k---“ The sound of her rustling feathers caught her attention, and she quelled the spark of protective anger that had bubbled up. “---I’ll have a very stern word with him.” Without breaking eye contact, she pulled a chair next to Applejack’s and sat down, wrapping her tail around her haunches. “I just want to see you happy, Applejack. Now, why don’t you tell me what the fight was about?”

“I’ll do better’n that. I’ll show ya!”

She looked down to her saddlebag, and she let out a punctured sigh. Just now she’d remembered that all the photos had been snatched up at the hospital. “Uh, nevermind. Flam’s got the evidence.”

“’Evidence’?”

“Yeah. A buncha photos of Flim doin’ the nasty with a Wonderbolt.”

“Oh!” Twilight’s ears folded back. “He’s cheating on you?!”

“No! He ain’t had the chance since he was here. He’s either been on the farm, or in the hospital.” She folded her arms with a sneer. “But that’s probably the only reason he hasn’t gone chasin’ after somepony else. I’m jes’ the last notch on his bedpost after Soarin’. And Celestia knows who else!”

“Wait a minute,” Spike said. “Are you sure you got that right? Soarin’s’ a stallion.”

“Yeah, exactly! That’s exactly it! He’s queer!”

The cushions squeaked as Twilight shifted. “Oh, Applejack. That’s rough.”

“I know,” she mumbled as she slumped farther down, her belly nearly blocking her view.

“If it’s any consolation, you’re not the first mare who’s fallen for a coltcuddler.” She was smiling, but with a strange, yearning kind of look behind it. “I had a crush on this colt when I was younger, but Cadence has an eerily accurate gaydar, and she pegged him a mile away. It might have had something to do with meeting him at the Drama club---“

“Twilight!” She groaned, struggling to sit back up despite the thrashing of tiny limbs inside her. “He’s not a coltcuddler. He’s….” The word gathered at the back of her throat, and she spat it out as if she could taste it: “He’s bisexual.”

“So... he is attracted to you?”

She briefly closed her eyes, and she remembered every lustful look he’d shot at her. “Yeah.”

“Well, what’s the problem?”

“Didntcha hear me? He’s queer!” she said in exasperation. “He knows how I feel about that, an’ he’s been keepin’ that from me!”

She thought she noticed the Princess’ eyes were a little tighter than they had been a moment before. “So is the problem that he didn’t tell you he’s bi, or that he is bi?”

“Both!”

For a few moments, no one spoke, and Applejack wondered if she’d given the wrong answer to a trick question. Twilight finally broke the silence: “Does Rainbow Dash know how you feel?”

“What’s that got to do with it? Her barn door swings one way, an’ one way only. In fact, it swings so far one way I sometimes think she’s a straight stallion in a fillyfooler’s body.”

“What about Pinkie?”

“Same thing. She knows who she wants to be with.”

“Her marefriend swings both ways.”

“Yeah, well, Screw Loose has got a screw loose.” She attempted a smile, but for some reason it faltered. “An’ I don’t fault her fer that, but... look, Twilight, I’m-a tell you somethin’, an’ I hope it doesn’t leave this room.” She leaned closer, balancing her weight on her elbow. “I tolerate them bein’ together ‘cause it makes Pinkie---well, both a’them---happy, but I’ve never approved. Datin’ yer boss’ sister? Who’s twice yer age?” She paused and looked down at her belly. Ever since she’d looked at the empty hooks where the shotgun usually hung, she’d been so focused on her own worries that she’d barely spent any time with her friends. Never in her life did she think she’d end up the kind of mare who got so distracted by a stallion she’d let her social life lag---hell, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d checked in with Pinkie to see how her less-than-stable marefriend was doing. “An’ now I find out she’s a swinger?”

“A ‘swinger’ is someone who sleeps with multiple partners at the same time. A ‘bisexual’ is someone who’s attracted to more than one gender. Sometimes they overlap, but that doesn’t mean they’re synonyms.”

“Wh...”

“What’s the problem here, Applejack?” she said quietly. “Coming out can be incredibly difficult. I didn’t peg Flim as the shy type, but maybe he was waiting for the right time to tell you.”

“It ain’t like that!” Her ears kept folding and unfolding, shuffling her mane around the sides of her face. “I put my trust in him, an’ he shoulda done the same! There were so many times he coulda told me, but he went well outta his way t’keep it to himself!” Her heart was pounding her hot blood all around her body, but the more flustered she got, the more stoic her friend seemed to get. What am I sayin’ wrong? Why ain’t she cluein’ in? “Look, he led me to believe he was a normal stallion, and then I find this out? Twilight, I feel like I been sleepin’ with a changeling!”

“Maybe he did, too.”

She gasped, and her hackles blustered up.

“Applejack...” She slid herself off her chair and began a very slow pace around the room, her eyes on the floor. “Was that what your fight was about? Your anger over his sexuality?”

“Uh, well, mostly, but---“ She wished she’d kept at least one of the pictures; not only would it have given her something to fidget with, but it would have helped to illustrate her point to boot. “---But I can’t be with somepony like that! I jes’ can’t!”

“Why not?”

“Well, would you date a bisexual?”

In her peripheral vision she could see Spike rapidly drawing a claw across his throat, but she ignored it. Whatever he had to say could wait.

“Can you even begin to imagine how painful it was for him to hear you say those things?”

“TWILIGHT!”

With a grunt and a heave, she forced herself out of the chair and back on her hooves, trying not to wince when the baby slid back and forth with a slosh. “I got a foal on the way! Tell me, how could I settle down with somepony who can’t make his mind up, huh? HOW?”

“Who’s to say he can’t?” Twilight said, facing the fireplace. The flickering lights were casting gloomy shadows over her cheeks. “Very few stallions would brave the wrath of Big MacIntosh. But Flim did. I might not know the whole story, but it sounds to me like he put himself at great risk... just to be with you.”

“Whose side are you on, anyway?!”

She turned her head sharply. “How about that tea, Spike?”

“Right.” After wiping the sweat from his forehead, he turned and scuttled out of the room as fast as he could. “Two pots, coming up!”

Her stomach sunk deep into her guts when the door slammed behind him---and it fell even lower when she peeked back at her friend.

Twilight’s expression was unreadable from the eyes down, but her eyebrows were knit. “Now that the coast is clear, we can get down to the nitty-gritty.”

“Of what?”

“Your sex life. Have you ever been with a pegasus?”

“I beg yer pardon?!”

“Have you ever been with a pegasus?”

“I, uh...” Very carefully, she picked her hat off the floor, but instead of putting it back on, she stared down into the inside of the crown. “Well, yeah. Once. Why?”

“Did you enjoy preening him? Did you giggle when he brushed his feathers across your belly?”

She tried not to smile when she got a little flicker of a memory. He’d been far from a good lover, but her first coltfriend had at least made creative use of his wings. “Yeah.”

“And you’ve enjoyed the strength and stamina of Earth pony lovers, I presume?”

“A’course.” As well as their tendency to be bigger in other departments.

“And you’ve obviously been with a unicorn. Did you play with his horn?”

At first, the only response she could muster was a little squeak, but she got her voice back after a few swallows. “Twilight, this is gettin’ kinda personal---“

“I only asked you what I needed to know.” She unfolded her wings to fan the fire. “You’re upset because Flim’s attracted to two kinds of ponies. But the way I see it, Applejack---you’re attracted to three.”

“WHAT?!”

“Think about it,” she said as she trotted back to her chair, primly stepping over the ice cream bowl. “Let’s say, for the sake of argument, that you and Flim did get married. Would you be worried that he’d run off with a stallion?”

“Yeah, and with good reason!”

“He could just as easily worry about you running off with a pegasus or an Earth pony. After all, you are attracted to them, aren’t you?”

“But---but that’s different!” she said, her voice rising.

“How?”

“Look, Flim likes stallions. I ain’t got stallion bits. That means there’s no way I could ever be enough for him!”

“And unless he becomes an alicorn---which I find highly unlikely---there’s no way he could be enough for you, either. He can’t offer you the wingplay you’ve admitted to liking.”

“Nnngh!” Had she not been in someone else’s home, she probably would have thrown something across the room. She had to settle for clutching one of the cushions in a deathgrip. “Twi’, yer analysin’ this like it’s a game a’chess or somethin’! Even if I did settle down with Flim, I wouldn’t cheat on him, not now, not ever!”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t wanna be with anypony but him!!”

As soon as she realized what she’d shouted, her jaw snapped shut, and her whole body broke out in shivers.

Twilight’s stern look finally mollified, and she allowed a small smile. “Well. There you have it.”

Applejack lightly touched her lips, as if she couldn’t believe what had just come out of them.

“Let me tell you something.” She scootched her chair closer, keeping her eyes on Applejack’s face; it was still slack with shock, but she could tell she was listening. “I’ve told you I’m not great with romance, but I have had a few coltfriends. And... once, I had a marefriend, too.”

Very slowly, Applejack lifted her head, and it seemed to take forever to meet her eyes.

Twilight began playing with the tips of her mane, twirling the highlights around the darker strands. “It didn’t last very long. Puppy love, I suppose. But at the time, I was sure I’d be with her for the rest of my life.”

She sighed and began wistfully dangling a hoof over the pile of the carpet. “As I said earlier, it was awhile ago. I knew nothing of friendship, so how could I know a thing about romantic relationships? Not to mention I’d never felt that way about a filly before.” She idly tapped her forehooves together. “It ended in a fight, much like the one you and Flim had. She said she couldn’t be with me since I didn’t know what I wanted. And she wouldn’t listen to matter how many times I told her I wanted to be with her. At first I thought she was being catty; it took me a long time to realize she was...”

She trailed off. Just as Applejack was raising a hoof to place over Twilight’s, her eyes refocused and she twisted in her seat, staring straight at her.

“Scared,” she said. “She was scared and jealous. It was nothing we couldn’t have talked over, but I figured it out too late. By then we’d both moved on.” If her eyes seemed wet, it was only for a moment before she blinked it away. “But I still sometimes wonder what could have been.”

“Twilight,” Applejack replied haltingly, “Are you tellin’ me you swing both ways, too?”

“Mm, no. Not really. I don’t identify as bisexual.”

“But---your marefriend---!”

“I’d never felt that way about a mare before, and I haven’t since. But I wouldn’t rule out the possibility down the road.”

Applejack pressed her back against the chair and took a lip between her teeth. Jeez. All the time I’ve known her, and I’ve never heard about this before?! She stole a glance at her friend, then looked back at her hooves. I always thought she was jes’ shy---or inexperienced---but is this why she’s never really talked about her past with us? Was she afraid we’d... She gulped. That I’d judge her? Again, she looked up, and forced a smile when their eyes met. Well don’t jes’ sit there! Say something!

“Y’aint gonna hit on me, are ya?”

Something besides that, idiot.

She rolled her eyes. “No, Applejack. I’m not attracted to you.”

“Oh. Um. Well, that’s good.” She scratched her ear again. “I think.”

“I know you’re concerned that a mare could never be enough for somepony who likes stallions. But listen.” She rose from her chair and knelt beside Applejack’s, hooking an elbow over her knee. “Everypony’s different, of course, but as far as I know, ponies like Flim can fall in love regardless of gender, not because of it. Does that make sense?”

“I ‘spose...” Oh, crap. The painful lump was balling up in her throat again. “He said he thought he could have loved me.”

“There are a lot of qualifiers there, but it sounds like there’s a sliver of hope, too.” Offering the tissues, she added “Do you feel calmer now than when you two were fighting?”

“Oh yeah. I was roarin’ mad. And he...” She had to pause there, thinking over what had happened. Was it really just an hour or so ago? It still seemed jumbled, but things were smoothing out now that she wasn’t frothing at the bit. The world-weary look in his eyes came back to her, as did the odd expression on Connie’s battered face---and it suddenly dawned on her that she had no idea why he’d let loose on his sister like that. Yes, Connie’s personality made her inherently punchable, but Flim had always used his wits before violence. What in Celestia’s name happened?

She was blushing heatedly, but her belly began to feel cold. She’d sensed he was already upset when she’d confronted him, but hadn’t stopped to consider what he could have been going through. Shame on you, AJ! she scolded herself. You shoulda known better’n to pick a fight with a pony who’s obviously hurtin’! All that had mattered at the time was her own sense of righteous indignation.... but was she really in the right? She briefly looked at Twilight, but couldn’t quite meet her gaze. Would I have been as angry about those photos if Trixie hadn’t used ‘em to humiliate me? The sadness that was still in her heart was starting to mix with worry, making her feel clammy all over. Maybe Twilight’s right. Maybe he was worried about comin’ out t’me. If I hadn’t said all that---If I’d jes’ let him tell me when he was good an’ ready, maybe... maybe...

But her train of thought spluttered to a stop on the tracks. “I-I’m still not comfortable with it,” she mumbled. “I mean, I jes’ always believed that it’s one way or the other.”

“And I always believed that studying was more important than friendship, but I’m humble enough to admit that I was wrong.”

Touche.

“Twilight.” Even though it was making her stomach flutter, she forced herself to look her friend dead in her eyes and say “When I was goin’ on about, uh, all that earlier... did I hurt yer feelins, sugarcube?”

“Yes, a little,” she admitted. “But we’re both grown ponies, and we talked it out.”

Amazing---she didn’t know that uncertainty and resolve could pair so well together, but there they were, both tugging at her at the same time.

“I’m not saying you’re going to get over your, um, let’s call them hang-ups overnight, but maybe now that you’ve had some ice cream therapy, you can have a little heart-to-heart with Flim?”

Had she been a bit less encumbered, she would have sprung out of the chair. “I gotta get to the hospital!” she grunted as she shifted her weight around, scrabbling her hooves as she tried to get purchase on the floor.

“Is he still there?”

“I hope so! Aw, jeez. We left on such bad terms.” She plunked her hat on her head, noticed it was backwards, and tugged her bangs to the side as she righted it. “Twi’, ya gotta teleport me there!”

“Oh no!” She leaned back and held up her forehooves, eyes wide. “No way!”

“Why not?!”

“I’ve never teleported a pregnant mare before, and I’m not about to start now!” She looked down at Applejack’s belly and grimaced. “One of the first things unicorns learn in Advanced Magic is the case of ‘the Caesarean stallion’. A husband tried to teleport his wife to the hospital because she was in labour. To this day no one is exactly sure how, but during the transit the fetus ended up switching from her body to his. Certainly not a pleasant---“

“Time’s a-tickin’, Twilight!”

“Oh! Right. Sorry.” She flared her wings and crouched her body closer to the ground. “I’m not going to risk teleporting you, but I can fly you there.”

She hesitantly lifted a hoof and placed it on her back. “Uh... are y’sure? I’m carryin’ a pretty heavy load.”

“I don’t mind. It’ll still be faster than you can run in your current condition.” She cracked a small smile. “But please give me a heads-up if you start to get airsick.”

With less reluctance than expected, Applejack climbed up on Twilight’s back, pretending she didn’t hear the little “Oof” she’d tried to muffle. “Uh, okay. Here goes nothing.”

She was still sitting up when Twilight bolted from the reading room, but she wrapped her arms around her neck and closed her eyes when she saw a window being magicked open. She kept them closed as she felt the rush of air around her face, and kept repeating to herself Just don’t look down. Don’t look down.

“Okay, so it turns out we’re out of chamomile,” Spike said as he pushed the door open with his tail, holding a full tea set on a platter. “But I did some digging, and way at the back of the cupboard was a whole box of...”

He stopped and looked around the empty room. “...Hello?”

As soon as she stepped in the room she realized something was off; the bed had been re-made with fresh sheets, and the only occupant was an irritated-looking mare in rubber gloves scrubbing the last of the blood off the floor, as if trying to permanently erase every trace of Flim.

Applejack cleared her throat. “Uh, ‘scuse me, miss?” she said in a strained voice. “Have you seen somepony by the name of---“

“Flim Skim?” the nurse replied without looking up from the floor. “I sure did. He went and signed himself out against medical advice. And left quite a mess, might I add.”

Oh gods, no. “Uh, didja maybe hear where he was headed, by any chance?”

“Nope. That’s not my job.” She huffed and dumped the sponge back into the bucket. “But apparently it is my job to clean up after him since the janitorial staff refuse to touch ‘biohazardous waste’. Such babies. I didn’t go to college just to be a maid, you know! I---”

She finally looked up, and ended her rant once she saw Applejack’s face all matted with dried tears, a few new ones about to join them.

“Honey, look. I’m sorry. This isn’t the psych ward, so we can’t keep ponies here against their will. Even if it is in their best interests.” She got up off her knees and picked up the bucket, offering her the smile of a professional with a practiced bedside manner. “He left something for you, though. It’s on the bedside table.”

Applejack looked at where she was pointing; there was a burlap sack sitting where the sonogram used to be. At least he took her picture with him, she thought morosely as she slowly, gingerly walked towards the table. Behind her, Twilight nodded as the nurse bowed her way out of the room, and then trotted up to Applejack’s side. “What’s that?”

She hesitated before opening it, as if worried that all the evil of Tartarus would come rushing out. “I dunno, but it’s got a note underneath it.”

Using her teeth, she tugged it out from under the sack, and angled the paper so they both could read it.

Flim –

Here’s 2,000 bits. It’s all I could afford to leave you. Celestia knows raising a foal is expensive, and you and Applejack

are going to need the help.

~C.

P.S.: Don’t be proud.

Under that was a rough penciled scribble in a script she recognized as Flim’s:

I don’t need your charity and NEITHER DOES SHE!

“Wait a minute,” Twilight said. “This wasn’t from him---it was for him!” She loosened the tassle, and gasped when the bag slid open to reveal the gold inside. “I don’t believe it! The FlimFlam brothers just left this behind?!”

“Two grand,” she said under her breath. “She left two grand?”

“And that’s another thing! Who is ‘C’?”

She dumped the coins onto the table and, almost on auto-pilot, began sorting them into stacks of ten. “Stands fer ‘Contrarian’. She’s their big sis. Got...” She had to cough to dislodge the swelling in her throat. “Got a lotta bad blood between ‘em. Maybe that’s why he left this behind.”

“To provide for his daughter-to-be?”

“Or because he’s bein’ too proud after all.” She moved the coins into stacks of fifty, then slid them side-by-side to make counting easier. Fifty, a hundred, hundred and fifty...“Who cares? Either way, we’ve got enough to fix all the damage he caused in the barn.”

“He damaged your barn? And they have an older sister? Applejack, how long have I been out of the loop?”

“Too long, Twilight. Too long.”

“This is ridiculous! I can’t believe he just left! That’s so incredibly inconsiderate---and foolhardy, too, just waltzing out against doctor’s orders.” The anger on her face changed to a determined grin. “Well, so what? The five of us went all over Equestria looking for you, Applejack, so it shouldn’t be hard to find Flim! He couldn’t have gotten far. We’ll fan out and---“

She slammed her hoof on the table, rattling the bits. “And what, Twilight? What’re you gonna do?! Hold a shotgun to his head? ‘Cause that sure didn’t work out too well the last time!”

“I just---“

“You wanted to help. I know,” she said as her shoulders sagged. “I know. But if you try to drag him back here, Flam’s gonna tell the police what Big MacIntosh did. I can’t have him goin’ to jail over somethin’ as stupid as this!”

“I wouldn’t use force. I’d try reasoning with him!”

“You’d be wasting yer breath.”

“But not if all five of us went! You shouldn’t be travelling too far from home, but you could write him a letter. We’d all deliver it, and explain why you need to smooth things over. And we could distract Flam to make sure he doesn’t snitch on your brother.” She’d begun to pace as she worked out what she probably thought was a brilliant plan. “That’s it! I’ll get the girls and we’ll catch the next train---“

“No, Twilight. Stop. It ain’t gonna work.” She went back to lining the bits up, even though her eyes were stinging. “I wanted to talk it over, but... I guess he didn’t.”

Twilight opened her mouth, but before she could cut in again, Applejack vehemently shook her head, pointing to the bits she was still organizing. “C’mon, Twi’! Dontcha think this is a sign? He was in such a hurry to get away from the mare who hurt him he left a small fortune behind!”

She shrugged, but her earlier confidence was gone. “Maybe he knew you’d find it. It’s actually kind of sweet.”

“Oh come on! You said it yerself: some stallions jes’ act sweet---“

“I said that before you told me he ‘could have loved you’,” she said in a quiet, tender voice.

“Yeah, ‘could have’. Not ‘does’. We...” A tear hit the table. “We said some awful things to each other, an’ I’m startin’ to think that they can’t be taken back.” She turned her wet eyes up to her friend. “Dontcha get it? I’m too late. I hurt him, an’ he hurt me, and, well... maybe this is Fate’s way of sayin’ it jes’ wasn’t meant to be.”

Clicking her hooftip over the neatly-piled coins, she added up the first thousand and began to count the rest.

“Besides, I told him that if he left me now, he should never come back, and---”

She burst out laughing.

“What?” Twilight held a tentative hoof out to her, but Applejack was shaking with laughter so hard she had to sit back on her haunches lest she fall on her side. “What’s funny?”

“There’s... there’s...” She propped herself against the side of the bed and pressed her frogs against her ribs, cackling like a crazed hyena. “That son of a bitch! Too proud to take his sister’s money, huh?” She swept the bits back into the bag and tossed it on the bed. “There’s at least five hundred bits missing!”

Twilight started to giggle, but the laughter was infectious, and soon they were both leaning over opposite sides of the bed, holding each other’s forelegs and howling. But their laughs slowed down to chuckles, and then to little murmurs, and before long Applejack was weeping again, Twilight stroking a hoof through her sweaty mane.

“He’s gone,” she whispered. “He’s really gone.”

“Oh, Applejack. I’m so sorry,” Twilight replied, and pressed a kiss against her forehead. But please, please don’t forget what I said about the crossroads.

Making Amends... Again

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“Do you want me to walk you home?” Twilight said as she helped Applejack heft the burlap sack into her saddlebag.

“Thanks, but I kinda need some time to... to, uh...”

“Process everything that just happened?” she finished for her.

“You could say that.” She grunted as she pulled the strap into place; two thousand bits, minus a few pilfered hundred, certainly weighed more than she’d expected. She tried to imagine the look on her brother's face when she showed him the money---and then it hit her. “Aw, crap. You got any tips fer how I should break this to Big Mac?”

“Just tell him the truth, Applejack,” she said, her magic already on the doorknob. “But you might want to make sure he’s sitting down first.”

“That’s a good idea,” she said grimly. “A couple a’pints a’cider wouldn’t hurt, neither.”

“Hey.” Twilight brushed her wing along her friend’s jaw, and gave her a reassuring smile. “I know you need some space, but... if you need to talk---"

Nodding against the feathers, she murmured “Yeah. I know where to find ya.”

“Okay.” She paused in the doorway. “Say, do you feel like a picnic? It’s been awhile since we all got together, and I’m sure the rest of the girls would love to hear what’s been going on.”

As much as she didn’t want to rehash it all now, the idea of getting the inevitably eclectic feedback from the rest of her close friends was somehow encouraging. Not to mention she'd need the bonding time after having to deal with her brother. “That sounds great. Maybe in a day or two?”

“Sure. I’ll drop by the farm later and let you know.” She stepped side to let Applejack through the doorway, and gave her a light nod. “Take care of yourself.”

“Of course.” She watched as Twilight trotted away towards the front entrance, and then turned in the other direction. Even after the ice cream, she was still peckish, and felt like dropping a few of her thousand-odd bits in the cafeteria. The mere thought made her a little giddy. All that money, all at once! Even though she knew a good chunk of it would have to go to fixing the broken equipment, she felt she could at least allow herself some small indulgences.

Baby clothes, she thought as she loped down the hallway, a smile playing on her lips. I’ll get Rarity to make some nice li’l dresses...

“Applejack?”

She jolted in place at the sound of her name, and turned her head slowly, somewhat afraid of what she might see. The door was slightly ajar, and when she pushed it open with a creak, her heart started thudding both with relief and apprehension. “Oh sweet Celestia---Berry, is that you?”

She gingerly lifted her forelegs off the bed with a weak smile. “As I live and breathe.”

Applejack took her hat off, looked at it, turned it over clumsily, and replaced it. She stammered out the first thing to pop into her head: “You, uh, you look pretty good!”

And she meant it. Despite the puffy, bloodshot eyes and sweaty mane, Berry seemed to be almost radiating with an inner light. “Heh. Yeah, my coat’s never been better.” Running a hoof over the opposite forearm, she paused when it reached the crook of her elbow, where an I.V. needle was taped in place. “They’ve been pumping me full of fluids ever since I got here. The good news is it’s doing wonders for my complexion...”

“And the bad news?” she said, inching into the room.

“Well, I’m probably pissing more than you are.”

Applejack let out a nervous laugh as she moved forward, but hesitated before taking the chair next to the bed. After all that had happened, she felt like an interloper in this room. “You sure weren’t doin’ too well the other day.”

Her ears flopped back. “Oh. You heard about that?”

“I didn’t hear about it. I heard it directly.” She put a tentative hoof on the chair, but instead of climbing up, she just squeaked it back and forth, staring at it instead of Berry. “I was visitin’ a fr...” The word ’friend’ had seemed so false that it withered up even as she was forming it in her mouth. “I was visitin’ somepony, an’ I heard you screechin’ like a banshee.”

“A banshee, huh? I guess that’s appropriate.” Blushing, Berry pulled her knees up to her chest. “Y’know, my family originally came from Kilkennel.”

“Ppft---yer Connemarish? That sure explains the drinkin’.” And then a hoof flew to her mouth. “Aw, shoot, Berry, I’m so sorry. Tha-that was a messed-up thing t’say! I didn’t mean---"

She just chuckled, folding her forelegs while being careful not to poke the I.V. “It’s fine, hon. I’ve certainly earned that kind of joke.”

Again, she reached for her hat, needing something to fiddle with, but before she could speak, Berry added something, almost under her breath: “I, uh, hadn’t expected a visit from you, Applejack.”

She wasn’t quite sure what to say, pressing and folding the brim between her hooftips. A thought from earlier came back to her, reminding her of the way Flim’s eyes had looked when she was screaming at him, and a tight pain settled in her chest when she realized he hadn’t been the first vulnerable pony she’d lashed out at.

“So, you were visiting somepony in here?” Berry said, as if to bridge the stifling silence between them. “I hope it wasn’t family. Did Granny’s hip act up again?”

“No, no, she’s fine. It was---" And her lips pulled into her mouth, interrupting herself. She just wasn’t ready to say his name out loud again, not when the dull throb of her former tears was still fresh in her throat. So she tried something else: “Why’re you in here, anyway?”

“I bet you think I drank myself into a stupor.”

“I---"

“It’s okay. It’s a reasonable enough assumption.”

“Berry, I...” She finally lifted her hindquarters from the floor and plunked herself into the chair. It was a little taller than the one that had been in Flim’s room, and her hind hooves dangled just above the tiles. “There ain’t no shame in fallin’ off the wagon, y’know. Granny always says ‘Failure ain’t the number a’times you fall down; success is the number a’times you get back up.’” When that didn’t get a reply, she went on: “I, uh, I got this uncle who---"

“Oh, let me guess. A drunk uncle?” She grinned. “A druncle?”

“Uh, yeah.” The cutesy term just didn’t seem appropriate. “From time to time, he’d try to dry out, but he’d start...” Her hackles bristled at the memory of one particularly unfortunate family reunion. “He’d start shakin’ somethin’ fierce, an’ he’d howl about things he could see that weren’t really there...”

“Oh yeah,” she said with a strange wistfulness as she turned toward the window. The curtains were fluttering lightly; she’d asked a nurse to open it to air out the dank smell of her sweat. “The DTs. The bottleache. I’m... unfortunately familiar with that.” Then she snapped her head around faster than Applejack thought would be possible, given her current condition. “But that’s not it, AJ.”

“It isn’t?” With a grunt, she leaned forward, the hide on her barrel folding against the taut top of her belly. “’Cause I wouldn’t blame anypony fer havin’ a few drinks after the...” She hesitated, her mouth moving around as she tried to find the right words. “...The tongue-lashin’ I gave ya.”

“I---“

She didn’t give her a chance to finish, the words suddenly spilling out of her: “Oh, Berry, you have no idea how sorry I am fer that! I mean it! I, I mean---here you were, offerin’ t’help me in my time a’need, an’ all I did was let my damn hormones get the better a’me an’ blow up at you like you done somethin’ horrible!”

“Applejack---"

“All ya did was blab a little, an’ I acted like you went an’ set fire to the farm!” She pulled back into herself, and hugged her forelegs around her body as her spine hit the back of the chair. “Besides, even if y’hadn’t said a thing, it ain’t like I coulda kept it a secret. We weren’t alone in that bar---plenty a’ponies saw me dancin’ with him, an’---an’ then my brother went an’ drug him back to town anyhow, so the cat woulda been outta the bag no matter what!”

“You---"

“But that ain’t the worst part, Berry! I can’t believe it took this long to click, but... but I’m jes’ now startin’ to realize what kinda place you musta been in when we were last talkin’.” Despite the warmth of holding her arms so tight to her chest, she shivered. “Here you were, strugglin’ with yer own demons, an’ tryin’ to open up to me---I didn’t even think how much courage that musta taken! I’m sorry, Berry, I’m so sorry---I didn’t mean t’make you drink again, I---"

A hooftip came to rest on her lips, and Applejack finally looked up from her belly. Berry was smiling at her, her mouth crooked up to the side.

“That’s sweet of you to say, Applejack, but I didn’t go on a bender.” She shifted in the bed, the thin coverlet pulling to the side as she readjusted. Her hoof went from Applejack’s face down to her knee. “You want to know what happened? I decided I needed to clear my head, so I took a stroll through the Everfree.”

“On yer own? That ain’t safe! You coulda---"

“Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time.” A light blush touched her cheeks, and she giggled. “I stopped by a little creek, and realized how hungry I was after that hard day’s work. I saw some mushrooms growing by the base of a tree...”

When she trailed off, still smirking, the dark feeling around Applejack’s heart began to lift. “Oh, Berry. You didn’t!”

“I did,” she said, laughing. “What can I say? My sister was a good Filly Scout, but I quit after two meetings. So I never learned the difference between edible and, uh, hallucinogenic mushrooms.” She sheepishly moved her elbow, clicking the I.V. stand against her bed. “I’m not really sure how long I was out there, but the nurses told me a very concerned Zecora turned me in to the hospital after I threw up all of her remedies.”

The small chortle that bubbled up felt like a welcome relief, and Applejack put her hoof over Berry’s. “Part a’me wants to be mad at you fer doin’ somethin’ so stupid, but---"

“But you’re relieved that at least I didn’t fall off the wagon. Again.”

“Oh! That reminds me.” She’d let her saddlebags fall to the floor when she’d taken the chair, so it took quite a bit of huffing and shuffling before she managed to yank one onto her lap and tug it open. Knowing something so small would’ve gotten lost at the bottom, she’d placed what she was rooting for in a small side pocket, making it easier to retrieve. She picked the small coin out with her lips and spat it onto the mattress by Berry’s side. “Given what y’jes’ told me, that rightfully belongs to you.”

She stared at it for a few drawn-out moments, and then lightly touched her four-month chip. When she lifted her eyes back to Applejack’s, they looked a little moist around the corners. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

They both sat in a silence for a minute, and then Applejack coughed. “So, uh...” She extended her hoof. “Can we go back to bein’ friends?”

Instead of returning the hoofshake, Berry leaned forward and pulled her into a hug. Even with a hint of tears watering around her lashes, Applejack laughed and tucked her chin against the pink shoulder. With the maelstrom of a mess her life had fallen into in the past few days, it felt so good to at least have one thing rectified again.

“Of course, Applejack. Of course. I’m so glad you could forgive me.”

She cocked her head into the embrace, snuffling her snout against Berry’s mane. “I was about to say the same thing.”

“Hey, I knew you had a temper when I met you. I knew what I was getting into.”

She’d said it with such a teasing lightness that Applejack couldn’t help but smile.

“You sure did a lot of babbling back there, but I think I caught something about your brother dragging Flim back to town,” Berry said as they parted.

Heat and discomfort crawled up the back of her neck. Great. “...Uh-huh.”

“How did that go?”

She glanced up at the clock over the bed. “You got a couple of hours? It's... kind of a long story.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” Soarin’ called to the door. He paused briefly in front of the mirror, licked his hoof, and smeared it back through his mane. The hotel had been instructed to keep the press outside, but a few nosy photographers had still managed to weasel their way up to his room, and he couldn’t risk being caught looking like he’d just rolled out of bed. Rising to his tip-hooves, he slid the guard back over the peephole, but all he saw was a flash as whoever was outside ducked out of sight. The guard slipped back in place, and he groaned when the knocking began again.

“Okay,” he said under his breath, and opened the door.

His eyes went wide. Reflexes kicked in before he could speak, and he threw all of his weight forward; since he had expected the haymaker to send his target flying, the loud CLANG of his hoof on a solid, staticky wall came as an excruciating surprise. “Fucking Celestia---!”

“I figured you’d try something like that,” Flim said from behind his force field, nervously eyeing Soarin’ as he hissed in pain. “I’m sorry, but I’d rather you get a split hoof than an assault charge.”

“Oh right, like you care what happens to me!” He shook his hoof out a few more times, and tucked it under his opposite foreleg. Even though his chin was trembling lightly, he narrowed his eyes and flared his wings in intimidation. “What do you want?!”

“I’d like to talk to you. But...” He glanced up at his horn, blinking as a bead of sweat rolled over the corner of his eye. “This is hard to keep up. If I let the force field down, will you promise not to hurt me?”

His wings didn’t lower, but he did fold them slightly. “You want to talk? About what?”

“The pictures. What else?”

With a quiet ruffling, he pulled his wings back to his sides. “As soon as you let that magic down, you have one minute.”

Flim sighed, and the translucent green bubble crackled away from him. “There. Can I come in?”

“Fifty-seven seconds.”

“Okay, okay.” He made sure to keep his back legs braced, because Soarin’s’ posture made him look like he was counting down to a headbutt. Pointing at his saddlebag, he said “I have the photos in here. As well as the negatives.”

When that didn’t get a response, he gingerly unlatched one of the bags and pulled a padded envelope out with his hoof. He switched to magic, and tossed it in front of Soarin’. “They’re in there. Go on, look.”

After a moment’s hesitation, he scooped it up and used his teeth to pry it open. His eyes scanned the contents, and then lifted back to Flim’s. “Sixty seconds.”

“One’s missing---"

“Ten seconds.”

“But that’s only because it got trashed!” he said, scuttling back a few inches. “It wasn’t my fault!”

“...Fifty seconds.”

“Somepony got a hold of them---"

“WHAT?!”

“---And she ripped it in half!” Flim took his hat off and pressed it against his chest. “That’s all she did, I swear!”

Soarin’ opened his mouth, but closed it again. His eyelids drooped and he looked off to the side.

“Hey.”

The hoof came to rest on his cheek with a careful gentleness, making him look up again.

“I never meant for this to happen,” Flim said quietly. He could feel the hide quavering under the blue coat. “Please believe me, Soarin’. I really didn’t.”

“You... you have thirty seconds left.”

He ducked his head, his whole face flushing with heat. “I just... I never thought I’d ever get to be with... with somepony even remotely like you. That’s the only reason I bought the camera. I just wanted something to remind me of...” He craned his eyes upwards to Soarin’s’. “I was going to develop the photographs myself, and keep them somewhere safe.”

His ears had been peeled back in anger, but they relaxed back into their normal position. There was still fire in his voice, however: “Bullshit.”

“I’m telling the truth!”

“Yeah? Then why’d your brother blackmail me, huh?”

“That wasn’t supposed to happen,” he said wearily. “None of this was supposed to happen.”

“Why should I believe you? You’ve been nothing but trouble ever since I first laid eyes on you!”

Flim looked up at the water-spotted ceiling, trying not to groan. This whole exchange had gone so much smoother in his head. “Look, you were there. You saw the stallion with the gun! Do you think that was something I’d planned?”

He shifted from hoof to hoof, his face mixture of confusion and embarrassment. “Well, he could’ve been an actor...”

“You’re lucky you’re handsome, Soarin’, because you really are an idiot.”

He managed to get a hoof in the door before Soarin’ could slam it shut.

“Ow. Listen to me, I---"

“I don’t have to listen to you!” he shouted. Flim’s hopes perked up when he opened the door a few inches, but he just slammed it on his hoof again. “Go away! Do you want me to call the guards?”

“Soarin’, listen. I’m sorry, okay? This was all just a mistake!”

As he hissed the words through his teeth, Flim thought he caught a whiff of whiskey on his breath, hidden under a layer of mouthwash. “Do you have any idea what I’m going through?!”

“Yes,” he said, “I do.”

“Oh really? You think you do?” He’d opened the door again, but Flim kept his hoof lodged in the frame anyway. “You know what it’s like having your face plastered over every freaking newspaper out there? You know what it’s like closing the blinds against the ponyparazzi?”

“Well, not quite like that, but---"

“Do you know what it’s like having to go and, and---“ He began running a hoof through his disheveled mane, his feathers sticking out at odd angles. “Do you know what it’s like having to go into a retirement home and have to face your father and tell him you’re gay, huh? Do you know what that’s like?!”

Flim, as cautiously as he could, set his horn alight again. Soarin’s’ hooves sure looked twitchy.

“And do you know what it’s like having to look a war veteran in the face and tell him something you---!” With a fierce shudder, his muzzle twisted as his lips pulled into his teeth. “Not that it fucking matters, anyway.”

“Soarin’!”

The hoof that was in his mane smashed to the floor, but his eyes were off to the side. “I pay his bills, I visit him every week, and he can’t even remember who I am! Every time I see him, every fucking time, he tells me he has a son my age who never visits because he left to join the Wonderbolts, and... and...”

Everything about him deflated, his wings sagging to his sides. It took a great deal of courage, but Flim finally forced out “For what it’s worth, I, er, I never knew my father.”

“Oh, who cares? Why should I care?!” Using a flick of his hooftip, he kicked the envelope back into his room and turned his blazing eyes up to the stallion at his door. “And your minute’s up! Get the hell away from me!”

“Soarin’, wait!”

And for some reason, he did. He was halfway twisted into the room, but the foreleg he had pressed against the door was frozen in place. There wasn’t enough room to step in, so Flim kept one hoof in the doorjam. “Please, just one more minute!”

“No!”

“Come on, Soarin’! Just let me explain!”

He couldn’t quite read the expression on the pegasus’ face, but he could see his jaw clenching and unclenching a few times.

“You’re right,” he said, “I don’t know what you’re going through exactly, but my life these past few days hasn’t exactly been a bed of roses, either.”

No response.

“It’s only been a few days since we last met, but...” With a quiet whuff, he leaned his head away. He knew that he was opening himself up for attack, but Soarin’ didn’t seem to be about to pounce. “You have no idea what’s happened to me.”

He snorted, turning just enough to show one hooded eye. “Oh yeah? Wanna trade?”

Flim half-grinned, slowly, and then turned towards his saddlebag. “Part of me wants to say yes.”

The bone-tired movement made Soarin’ bristle his feathers; he couldn’t place his hoof on what, exactly, was wrong, but something felt incredibly off about the other stallion’s actions. Four days ago he’d seemed so lively and full of life---and now he was moving with almost geriatric fragility. “You... uh...”

“But another part of me wouldn’t change the past, not for every gold bit in Equestria.”

“...What?”

His ears had started to fold back, but he forced them to stand upright again. “Soarin’,” he said carefully, still not looking quite at him, “I may not be a celebrity, but I understand the... er... the need for privacy.”

“Not the way I do.”

“You’re right. I don’t understand your struggle... and you can’t possibly understand mine. Because you’re a singleton.”

That caught his attention. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

After pulling the buckle loose, Flim sat down heavily. “I have a twin---an identical twin brother. Ever since conception, we shared everything.”

Even though he wasn’t looking, he sensed the pegasus leaning forward.

“Everything,” he repeated. “Every day, every dream, every aspiration---we were like two halves of a whole. And then, when I least expected it, I fell in love with, er, with somepony I shouldn’t have, and I was forced to keep a secret from the best friend I’d ever had." He snorted. "That sure didn't last long. I don’t know what it’s like to be hounded by the press, but I do know what it’s like to have everypony talking about me, and not in a particularly positive way.” With a smirk, he added “And, given the choice, I’d take the ponyparazzi over high school students any day. Last I checked, photographers don’t tend to slam their subjects in lockers.”

“S-so?” he sputtered, surprised to hear the falter in his voice. “What are you getting at?”

“We have something in common,” Flim said haltingly. “Neither of us chose to come out of the closet---the door got kicked down instead. You shouldn't have had to go through that... and I’m... sorry for the role I played in it.”

Soarin’s’ hoof had slipped off the door, hovering an inch above the ground. They made brief eye contact, and both quickly glanced away; the combination of the surprising statement and the sincerity he’d seen on Flim’s face had flustered him into silence. All the knotted-up rage he’d been holding inside since he’d read that newspaper headline was beginning to feel loose and impotent. It took a great effort to speak again, but he managed “So... so what? You’re sorry, and that’s it?”

He shrugged, still fidgeting with his bag.

“Uh, your brother said something about wanting money if you got hurt,” he added as he eyed the shiner, “And you do look worse for the wear.”

“Oh, fuck that. I don’t care.”

“You don’t?!” That was a shock---most disgruntled fans had their eyes on his wallet, and it wouldn’t have been the first time he’d bought somepony’s silence.

Flim rubbed his frog over his black eye, and then up towards his mane. “No. I’m sorry if this seems crass, but I got what I wanted from you.”

“I...”

“Don’t get me wrong, a few extra bits here and there would be nice, but I’m...” Holding his teeth together, he sighed through them and then closed his lips. “I can get by without your blood money.”

“Okay. Seriously, what’s going on?” he said in bewilderment. “I hardly freakin’ recognize you---you look like you’ve aged ten years since the last time I saw you! What happened?”

Flim finally opened his bag, picked something out with his teeth, and turned back. Soarin’ squinted at what he’d retrieved---at first glance it seemed like one of the photographs, but when he took a second look, he realized it was something he hadn’t seen before: a blurry, black-and-white picture with medical markings along the sides, a strange little blob in the centre.

“What’s that?”

“It’s...”

With a little ‘ptui’, Flim dropped it onto his outstretched hoof, and the breaths seemed to pull in and out of his chest with a mighty heave. Looking down at the print-out, he mumbled “This... this is my daughter.”

“What?”

A tiny swirl of magic began whirling around the sonogram, and Flim rattled out the points as best as he could remember: “You see that? The dark spot there? That’s her heart. That little nub down there is where her tail will be, once she’s grown a bit more. Oh, and can you see what’s tucked up by her ears? That’s her horn.”

He was starting to feel all cold and rattled inside. “I don’t... I don’t understand,” he mumbled.

“Do you see her, Soarin’? Do you see her?” he said, jabbing his hoof at the print-out. “This is what’s happened since we last met. This is what I have to deal with, now.”

“I---"

“I’m going to be a father,” he whispered, and then pulled the sonogram away from the pegasus. He held it an inch away from his barrel, taking long, deep breaths. “No matter where I go, or what I do, I’ll know there’s a little filly who’s going to be waiting for me. My little baby girl...” Still sitting awkwardly on the rough hallway carpet, he threw his forelegs up in a helpless gesture. “And now I have no idea what I’m going to do with the rest of my life.”

The sonogram being lifted in his aura was enough of a distraction that Soarin’ actually jumped when he felt a gentle kiss pressing against his cheek.

“You’re going to make some stallion very happy one day,” Flim said as he tucked the picture away. “I hope you have better luck in love than me.”

He put a frog to the spot where he’d been kissed, and slowly blinked a few times. By the time he’d registered everything that had just happened, Flim was halfway down the hallway. “Hey!” he called after him. “Hey, wait!”

He paused, but didn’t turn. His barrel expanded as he took a deep breath, and then he disappeared around the corner.

Soarin’ stood in the doorway for a full minute before turning back into his room, closing the door and leaning back against it. He idly pulled the envelope towards him and opened it, shaking a photo loose.

“He has a daughter?” he said to himself as he let his eyes wander over the evidence. “Sheesh. That’s the last time I mess around with a straight stallion.”

Eligible Bachelors

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The cool winter breeze blew through Applejack’s mane, and, with a deep breath, she turned her head into the gust, her bangs blowing back over the brim of her hat. Little snowflakes caught in her eyelashes, and she laughed as she blinked them away.

Funny how things worked out, she mused to herself as her eyes scanned the orchard. I couldn’t a’picked a better time to get pregnant. I’m at my heaviest when the least amount a’work needs to be done.

She glanced back at the small hill she’d crested, and her smile widened---between her hoofprints was a long line where her belly had dragged through the snow.

She tucked her head down between her forelegs, and chuckled as she patted her bulging abdomen. “Hope y’ain’t gettin’ cold,” she whispered. It had been months since her foal had last used her magic, which, according to the books Twilight had foisted upon her, meant that her tiny horn had long since finished developing. Applejack had some idea of what to expect now that she was in her third trimester; the baby’s body was taking its final shape, and it seemed like she was trying to experiment as many movements as possible. In fact---

“Ugh!”

With a concerted groan, Applejack leaned to her left, hissing hot breath through her teeth as she lifted a hindleg. “Well.... tha... that’s a new one,” she panted, rubbing her knee against the side of her belly where she’d felt the pointed pattering of little hooftips. “Guess you can do cartwheels now.”

Something blunt and conical squeezed against her hide, and with a warm smile, Applejack kneaded her hindleg against the protrusion. It was a game they’d learned to play together: the foal would press her muzzle out, wait til she felt Mama push back in, and then go merrily bouncing around inside. Applejack wasn’t sure how much the little one understood, but she could play that “game” without fail... sometimes even when her cargo ship was trying to sleep.

With a practiced shrug of her shoulders, she unholstered her harness and turned toward her cart. It irked her that she’d been given the “lightweight” chores. Even Apple Bloom was doing more around the place than she was! Big MacIntosh had steadfastly refused to let her even think of doing the pruning, lest one of the branches fall and crush her, and despite her protestations (“That hasn’t happened since I was a filly!”) he had Granny on his side... so she was left trudging around the orchard, feeling like some wet-behind-the-ears farmhand who had to be coddled as much as the trees this time of year.

Applejack sighed as she plucked a cold glass bottle out of the cart. No use fightin’ with him, she figured. Even though that painful day was several months behind her now, just thinking about it still made her cringe. She hadn’t been able to figure out how best to break the news of Flim’s departure to her brother, so she’d ended up blurting it out, along with a flustered squall of tears. It would have been so much better if he’d exploded with anger. His anger she could handle... but seeing him break down crying was more than she could bear. She’d ended up feeding him nearly a full barrel of cider, and while he was sleeping it off she had patiently cleaned up the bales of hay he’d kicked around the barn. Sweet Celestia, she hadn’t seen him sob like that for years.

Uncorking the bottle, she reflected on how gentle the long, stretching months since that night had been. Big MacIntosh had certainly been sour during his hangover, but once he’d recovered they’d spent a surprising amount of time talking it over, his colthood stutter tugging out his sentences. He mumbled about his horror, his shame, his fear, his admitted stupidity, and.... and, of course, he mentioned that damned yew tree, even though he refused to give her the explanation she'd been hoping for. They’d gone out to see a movie together, and ever since then he had dutifully gone out to do any errand she sent him on. Hot peppers, cupcakes, ice packs----anything. He ran like an atoning sinner.

She paused, the bottle of dormant oil in her mouth. Just behind the tree she was about to treat was a snowmare. Applejack dropped the bottle and leaned in closer, peering at the life-sized face. Odd. Her sister still made snowmares from time to time, but they tended to be lumpy and childish. This one was meticulously-sculpted---it almost looked like a real pony.

Just as she was about to tap the snout, it exploded outwards in a flurry of white and pink. “HI!!”

“Gyah!” She skidded backwards and slumped against the tree, gasping and brushing the flecks of snow off her face. Her heart was in her damn throat. “Fer Pete’s sake, Pinkie Pie! One a’these days yer gonna do that and I’m-a drop the foal right on the ground!”

Pinkie giggled as she bounced in place, kicking up snowdrifts around her ankles. “Oh, goodie! I want to be there when li’l AJ Junior’s born!”

With a reluctant smile, Applejack eased herself back to her hooves and adjusted her hat. “Yeah, well, you better start carryin’ a defibrillator on ya, ‘cause that nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“Ooh, no! Is the pregnancy putting a strain on your heart?” Before she could dart away, Applejack was covered with swirling pink hooves rubbing around her shoulders and barrel. “Are you having blood pressure problems?” Pinkie went on, a frog on her friend’s jugular. “Dizzy spells? Seeing little black dots? Or little red dots? Or multicoloured ones? Or squares? Or big dots? That would be a lot worse! Have you talked to the doctor about this? Are you---“

“Pinkie!” she said as she swatted her away. “I was jes’ kiddin’!”

Her face brightened. “Well that’s a relief! I came all the way out here to give you a surprise, and I’d just kick myself if I made you sick! Can you imagine?”

Seeing her chest inflate as she drew a breath, Applejack decided to butt in before Pinkie could start another spiel. “A surprise? Fer me? Aw, that’s real sweet!”

“Yup! I got it right here!” She stuck a hoof into her mane and began to dig around, her tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth. “Hmm... there it is!”

She pulled out an origami crane made out of a gum wrapper, and frowned. “Nope, that’s not it. Just a second!” Another fumble, and this time she pulled out a monkey carved from a coconut. “Nuh-uh. Oh, wait! Maybe it’s in my tail.”

This time when she pulled her hoof free, Applejack took a few quick steps backwards. “That’s weird,” Pinkie said. “I didn’t know I owned a hacksaw!”

“It’s okay if you forgot it, y’know.”

As she was replacing her items, her eyes lit up and she slapped her forehead. “Wait a minute! Silly me---I left it back at Sugarcube Corner!”

“I could swing by after dinner---“

“No way! We’re going right now!”

She glanced back at her cart. “Uh, Pinkie, I appreciate it, but I got a lotta work to---“

“Caramel!”

She’d barely had time to blink when Pinkie suddenly produced a familiar pony, seemingly from behind her back. “Ta-da!”

She shook her head. Damn. Years, now, of knowing Pinkie, and she still couldn’t figure out exactly where she stored all of her ‘surprises’. “Wh...”

“Caramel said he owned you a favour, so he’s going to do your work for a few hours!” she said brightly as she gave him an overly-firm slap on the back.

Applejack twisted her mouth to the side, eyeing the stallion as he gave her a shy wave. “Okay. So whatever this is, yer in on it, too?”

“Just lending a helping hoof,” he said, not quite meeting her stare.

She’d opened her mouth to speak, but Pinkie darted around her and grabbed her by the elbow. “C’mon, ‘cuz! This is kinda time-sensitive!”

“Uh---“ She wasn’t sure how it was possible, but with Pinkie dragging her, they were already halfway across the field. Craning her neck around to face Caramel, she called out “Be sure to get the oil on the pruned spots, and---“

“He knows what he’s doing, AJ! C’mon, c’mon, c’mon!”

“Can ya do me a favour and quit tuggin’ at me like that?”

“Sure thing, so long as you can keep up!”

“Jes’ don’t expect me to bounce,” she said wryly.

“Sooooo....” Pinkie said, drawing the vowel over a few octaves, “Have you thought about what to name li’l AJ Junior?”

“Uh...” Her ears almost folded back, but she managed to keep them straight, not wanting her friend to notice the upset in her emotions. “Flim wanted to name her ‘Loophole’, but---“

“But FUCK that asshole, right? Am I right?” She jumped right up in the pregnant mare’s face. “Or am I right? Right?”

“PINKIE!”

“Ooh! I have some ideas!” Pinkie’s eyes flickering around the scroll she was holding with the cowlick at the front of her fluffy hairdo. “I jotted these down the very moment I heard you were pregnant! The very instant! The insta-mome-second!”

“Uh, I appreciate it, but---“

“Howsabout Honey Crisp?” She flashed a toothy grin. “You said the foal was big for her age---and Honey Crisp Apples were specifically cultivated for having larger-than-average cells! They’re high in hemicellulose!”

The hide around the back of her neck bristled. How in Celestia’s name did Pinkie know more than her about---?! “That... uh... maybe?”

With a quill she’d drawn from somewhere under her armpit, Pinkie made a mark beside the name. “Gold Rush?”

And that’s when her ears did flatten. Her great-uncle had lost his life venturing for gold up North. “No way.”

“Y’know, most ponies don’t have a superiffic name-memory like mine. Keeping track of which of your family is which will get pretty tricky if you keep using apple-based names! Is there an Apple family rule about what you’re allowed to name your foal?”

“N...o,” she said hesitantly. She was already concerned about how to tell her extended family that she was having a unicorn; if she went and named her something strange, they might never cotton on to it. “Why do you ask?”

She tapped the tip of the quill against the scroll, sweeping the feather against her pouting lips. “’Cause there’s this one Twilight thought of.”

“Shoot.”

“Hesperides.”

“Hes-a-what?”

“Hesperides!” she repeated. “The ancient goddesses! The sacred guardians of the Golden Apples!”

Applejack had to move her mouth about a few times, trying the new word out, rolling it around on her tongue. “Hesperides...”

“Doesn’t it sound cool?” she said as she struck a dramatic pose against the horizon. “Think: the mighty Hesperides! It’s like a name from some epic poem!”

“The guardian of the apples...?” It was both so sweet, and so unusual. It seemed fitting for the first Apple-born unicorn, and yet---

“We’re here!”

The squeaking of snow under their hooves had stopped, and in wonderment Applejack squinted the dwindling late afternoon sunlight out of her eyes. The magic of Pinkie had turned what was normally a long walk had turned into a hop, skip and a jump.

A little unnerved, she coughed and said “Say, while we’re here, mind if I pick up a baker’s dozen of those new cookies you came up with?”

“Sure thing!” Pinkie chirped, steadying a hoof on the doorknob. Her grin didn’t look any weirder than normal, but it seemed to tremble around the edges. “Why don’t you come on in?”

Just as Applejack was about to politely thank her for holding the door open, her bangs were blown back by a gust of air as dozens of voices cried out

“SURPRISE!”

The rattling cacophony made her ears ring, and yet it sounded happy and pure. Her joints trembled as she stared at the scene in front of her; from wall to wall, the bakery was filled with ponies---her friends, her neighbours, her family, and some she’d only seen in passing. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Spike clicking his jaw a few times before lighting the candles on a fluffy pink cake; beside him, Zecora accepted an offered party favour, and after a few clumsy attempts, blew it out in a flourish. Rainbow Dash was swooping back and forth in front of a huge banner that read IT’S A FILLY!

“Surprise!” Pinkie squealed as she bounded around the frozen Applejack. “It’s a baby shower! All for you! Do you like it? Huh? Do you like it?”

The poofs in her mane shuddered a little, and then deflated nearly to flat when she saw the look on her friend’s face. “Wh... you... you don’t like it?”

Applejack wiped her fetlocks over her dripping muzzle and tried as hard as she could to snuffle her snot back up.

“D-don’t you like it?” Pinkie whispered as her tresses unwound limply against her neck. “I... I tried my hardest to---“

And then her mane bounced back into place when her sort-of-cousin grabbed her in a tight, tear-stained hug. “Oh! Happy-crying!”

Flim didn’t even look up from his book when he heard the knock at the door. “Do you have free food or booze?”

“No.”

“Then go away.”

He rolled his eyes when he heard the doorknob turning, then rattling. “Don’t even bother, Trixie. I locked it.”

Stretching out his hindlegs, he turned the page and settled down into his pillow. Flam had been pestering him for weeks to ‘get out and enjoy life’---whatever that meant---and now it seemed he’d asked his marefriend to help him with the nagging. Just as well---brushing his own brother off was difficult, but Flim had no trouble doing the same to Trixie.

The doorknob stopped jiggling, and for a few seconds there was silence. His ears pricked up when he heard a disconcerting snick---and jumped right off the couch when she threw the door open with a triumphant smile. “What the---?! How---?”

She snickered, tossing something in his direction. “Trixie jimmied it with her credit card.”

The tendons in his neck tightened when he held it up, brushing a hooftip over the now-broken corner. “Dammit, Trixie, this is MY credit card!”

“Oh, is it?” she said with an exaggerated look of naiveté. “I had no idea! You know, you really should take better care of your belongings, Flim.” Then her mouth curled up in that self-satisfied grin she wore like a second skin. “It would be a shame if you got a massive bill later this month.”

“Trixie, one of these days, I swear to Celesti---AH!”

His shout of surprise came when her aura wrapped around him, head to hoof, and lifted him into the air with a crackle. “There’s no time for sulking, Flimmy,” she said sweetly as she hauled him across the room, not even deigning to look back. “You have to get ready for your date!”

He thrashed around, but she was holding him firmly. He knew from experience it was difficult to disentangle oneself from another unicorn’s magic, especially if they had you by the horn. “My what?”

“Your date,” she repeated, nosing the bathroom door open. Simultaneously sweeping the shower curtain back with a hoof and undoing his buttons with a spare strand of magic, she went on: “Trixie’s cousin is in town for a few weeks, and she’s been looking for a date for some time, now.” She gave him a critical once-over as she popped his shirt open, the corner of his still-bandaged wound peeking from under his elbow. “You’re not exactly her type, but as I said, she is a little desperate.”

“Will you please let me go?! This is ridiculous!” He just barely managed to fumble his clothes off before Trixie turned the water on. “And I’m not going on some stupid date.”

Leaning over the lip of the tub, she pressed her snout up against his and tightened her eyes. “Yes, you are. Flam’s been too polite to say anything, but Trixie has no such compunctions.” She jabbed at his barrel, not breaking eye contact. “Flim, it’s time you moved on. You’ve been sulky and pouty ever since you left Ponyville, and quite frankly, we’re sick of it!”

Flim nudged the tap to the left, heating up the water. As warm as is was, it felt surprisingly cool; his scalp felt all hot and tight with a headache. “Yeah, well, imagine how sick I am of hearing you bitch about it.”

She tossed him the slim bar of hotel soap as she bundled up his clothes. “There’s one way to solve both these problems. You’re going to have a shower, put on some nice clothes---and I mean nice clothes, Flim, not that stupid vest you always wear!---and go enjoy your date.”

“Trixie, I really don’t need your help finding a---“

“Yes you do,” she snapped. “Applejack has moved on, and it’s high time you did, too.” The way he winced at that name didn’t slip by her. “Now, listen. My cousin is a very nice mare, and I think you’ll find you have a lot in common.”

“Like what? The fact we both know a psychotic stage magician?”

Her muzzle pulled up as she scowled, and she yanked the curtain shut. As much as she wanted to scream something at him, she remembered Flam’s advice to use ‘a delicate touch’. “There’s a restaurant two blocks East from here called the Gilded Truffle. She’ll be waiting in there at eight o’clock, wearing a purple rose. You have less than half an hour to get yourself ready, so get a move on!”

With a quiet groan, Flim leaned back against the porcelain, letting the warm water flow over his head. “And if I don’t show up?”

“Then you’ll never see your other credit card again.” She paused to adjust her mane in the mirror. “And don’t forget to shave, Flim. Honestly, there are mares out there with better facial hair than you.”

He snorted. “I know. I’ve met your mother.”

She spun on the spot, flushed the toilet, and slammed the door on his scream.

Applejack waved as the last of the party guests filtered out through the front door, trampled pieces of confetti trailing after them. Scattered about the floor were streamers and popped balloons, ripped wrapping paper and shreds of ribbons---while it had been Apple family tradition to have foal showers at home, she sure was glad somepony else would be taking care of the mess... especially now that bending over without puking into the back of her throat was almost impossible.

With a wide, happy smile, she turned back to the five ponies who had decided to stay. “Thanks, y’all,” she murmured, a hoof on her belly. “This means more t’me than you can ever know.”

Raising her wine, Rarity declared “To Applejack! The best mother-to-be in all of Equestria!”

As Applejack blushed and waved her hoof, tutting in embarrassment, four other glasses raised in the air. Fluttershy’s feeble grip on her drink made it waver to and fro before Twilight could catch her wrist and steady it back to the table. “To Applejack!” they all replied, clinking wine glasses against champagne flutes.

Just like she did every time somepony proposed a toast, Rainbow deliberately leaned as far forward as she could and looked from one friend to the other, still lightly sloshing her glass back and forth. “Remember, everyone: if you don’t make eye contact when you drink to something, you won’t have sex for seven years!”

“Good thing I didn’t partake,” Applejack muttered as she tipped her glass towards her face, peering down at the innocent-looking swirls of apple juice and grenadine. Mrs. Cake--- a mare who definitely knew the irritation of having to spend eleven months without cocktails---had been kind enough to concoct a drink that was both baby-friendly and tasty enough for Mama to enjoy. It even had an apple garnish. “Last thing I need is fer my love life to get any worse.”

Her glass still in the air, Rarity added “And to little baby...” She hesitated, looking at Applejack’s uncertain expression. “Are you sure about this, darling?”

“I damn well better be,” she said. “I already told half the town! I mean, it ain’t the usual kinda name we Apples tend to give our kin, but...” Her eyes fluttered down to her belly. “I guess she ain’t gonna be the usual kinda Apple.”

“Well, some would say middle names are for honouring somepony you love, Applejack. With a family as large as yours, I’m sure you have a great-aunt or two whose legacy you’d like to commemorate in such a way.”

Pinkie vigorously shook her head. “Nuh-uh, Rarity! The foal’s gonna get Flim’s mother’s name!”

“Ach!” The sound rasped in her throat as a look of distaste went across her features. “Applejack, why would you let somepony like him have a say?”

“Because she’s his kid, too,” Applejack replied, glaring at Pinkie.

“If he wanted a say, he should have stuck around,” Rarity said firmly. “I don’t expect him to win Father of the Year, but he ought to stallion up and not run like a coward.”

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Twilight leaning forward, her lips parted as if about to speak, so she quickly jumped in: “Rarity, I appreciate yer honesty, but can we, uh, maybe not talk about Flim right now? This is supposed to be a happy occasion, right?”

"Of course it is." The terse look softened, and with a much more genuine smile, Rarity concluded the toast: “And to, ahem, Hersperides Loophole Apple.”

Again, they clinked their glasses, giggling as they forced eye contact. “That sure is a mouthful,” Rainbow said as she sipped the head off her cider. “But I guess we can call her Hez for short. Or Desy. Or even Loophole---whichever seems to suit her best.”

“The foal’s got three names, so I guesh we better drink to her two more times!” Fluttershy squealed and giggled, flopping over the armrest. She was flapping her forelegs and waving her wings, as if confused as to which were which, and eventually brought her splayed feathers to rest on Applejack’s abdomen. “Who wantsa refill Aunt Fluttershy’s cup?”

Applejack chuckled and patted her sweaty mane. The poor thing was a lightweight, even for a pegasus; her eyes had begun to cross halfway through her first spritzer, and by the second she was air-dancing. “I think Aunt Fluttershy needs to be cut off,” she said gently.

She pulled the same face Apple Bloom used when she wanted to stay up past her bedtime. “Nooo! C’mon, Abblejack, it’sh a party!”

Luckily she was too drunk to notice the smiles her friends were trying to hide. “Would you like me to go make you another ‘ater-way’?” Twilight said as she rose from her seat.

Her face brightened. She still hadn’t figured out that the cocktail Twilight had ‘invented’ was actually just water with an olive garnish. “Yeah! I love your ater-ways! Ooh, and bring a virgin one for Abblejack!” She turned back to smush her face against Applejack’s stretched hide. “Innit funny? You haveta drink virgin cocktails because you’re not a virgin! Hee hee!”

“Yeah. Hilarious, Fluttershy.”

She startled a bit when another hoof came to rest on her shoulder, and looked up from where Fluttershy was jostling her stomach back and forth to get the baby to move---dammit, why does everypony DO that?---to see Rarity’s kind face smiling down at her. “You miss him, don’t you?”

“I said I don’t wanna talk about him,” she gritted out.

If she noticed the terseness in her words, she didn’t let on. “I know just the thing to take your mind off him!”

“Rarity, if I hear the word ‘spa’ or ‘makeover’---”

“No no no, nothing like that.” She lifted her hoof from Applejack’s shoulder and held it up triumphantly. “We’re going to find you a new stallion!”

Somehow, that was even worse. “What?!”

But it was too late---her eyes were gleaming like a mare possessed. “We’ll find you a new stallion! One who’ll sweep you off your hooves! One who’ll be a gentlecolt! You know, Applejack, my cousin is a renowned matchmaker, and if she can do it, so can I!”

“There’s a fairly significant flaw in that plan, Rarity,” Twilight said as she returned with Fluttershy’s ‘cocktail’.

“What? The fact that she’s still in love with Flim?”

“NO.” Her eyes said more than her words, and Rarity rather sheepishly sat herself back down. “I meant the lack of eligible bachelors around here.”

Rainbow finally managed to pry Fluttershy off Applejack’s belly and guided her back to her chair. “Yeah, this town’s a Muff Mecca, and Applejack is strick’ly dickly.”

Oh Celestia. She felt as flustered as the first time she went into heat in the middle of class. She eagerly took her drink and sipped at it, grateful for the excuse to avoid meeting anyone’s eyes. “I, uh, I don’t know if this is a good idea...”

“A Muff Mecca, you say?” Pinkie screwed her eyebrows together, deep in thought. The effort made her look like she was struggling to get the last bit of toothpaste out of the tube. “Hmm... that means most of the mares here are fillyfoolers, which would mean that they’re all dating each other, which must mean...” She jolted upright when the realization hit her. “It must mean that most of the stallions in Ponyville are single! Right?”

“Pinkie, I don’t know if that logically follows---“

She threw her forehooves over her head with a huge smile. “No, Twilight, this is great! Now all we gotta do is go down the list and figure out who’s best for her!”

“Didn’t work out so well when my sister tried it,” Applejack groused.

“Oh, don’t be such a silly-billy! We’re not going to give you any potions!”

“Yeah. We’re just talking one date, AJ.”

“And if it doesn’t work out, there’s no pressure.”

“Think about it darling. When was the last time you had a nice evening out?”

All Fluttershy had to offer was a cheery “Woo!”

Applejack sighed. She was clearly outnumbered. “Okay, fine. But I don’t want any of y’all to get yer hopes up.”

With a light titter, Rarity patted Applejack’s elbow and said “Don’t you worry about a thing. We all understand the difference between a Mister Right and a Mister Right Now.”

Fluttershy was the first to offer a suggestion: “Filthy Rich isn’t married! And he’s rich!”

She rolled her eyes. “Pass.”

“Good call,” Rainbow said. “What about Thunderlane?”

“Been there, done that.”

“Really?” She leaned her chin on her forehooves. “Interesting.”

“Ooh!” Pinkie’s hoof shot up in the air and she began waving it back and forth, reaching with her opposite foreleg around the back of her head to hold her elbow in place. “Ooh! I know! Dance Fever!”

“What, that disco-dancer who looks like he came out of a really bad porno?”

“C’mon, AJ! It wasn’t that bad!” When she saw her friends staring at her, Pinkie blinked a few times. “Did I say that or just think it?”

As if to smooth that over as quickly as possible, Twilight suggested “What about Hughbert Jellius? He’s nice, and not unintelligent, if I recall correctly. I can’t count how many times he’s come in to the library to take out books on fruit preserving---you two might have a lot in common.”

Applejack fixed her a pointed stare. “He’s banned from Zap Apple Jam sales, an’ I’m not sayin’ why in polite company.”

“Jesus Pezuna, maybe?”

From the frying pan to the fire! Just the thought of that mane-net made her shudder. “Not a chance. I’m twenty-six, which means I’m at least fifteen years too old fer his tastes.”

“What about Bulk Biceps?”

Applejack tried as hard as she could not to cringe. “Uh... He’s, uh, nice, but...”

“But it’s true what they say about stallions with itty-bitty wingspans,” Rainbow finished for her.

With an indignant huff, Rarity tossed her mane and swirled her wine around her glass. “That’s incredibly rude of you, Rainbow Dash! I’ll have you know that I’ve dated quite a few pegasi in my time, and I can assure you that wings and---er---sizes in other departments have absolutely no correlation!”

“Size?” She flared her own wings, and smirked. “Who said anything about size? I just meant little wings weren’t great for flying. What were you talking about, Rarity?”

Her mane jimmied as her ears moved back and forth. “I---! Size?! I wasn’t---! Why, how dare you---“

“Bulky’s a real sweet fella,” Applejack interjected, despite the little bit of glee she felt when she saw the flush on Rarity’s face. “But he ain’t too bright. Once I told him he was standing on a cow patty, and he said ‘I’d know if I was standing on a cow, and don’t call me Patty.’”

Suppressing a snicker, Twilight shifted and re-crossed her hindlegs. “Fair enough. Well... there’s always that stallion from the Ponytones.”

“Her own BROTHER?! EW, Twilight, just EW!”

She rubbed her hoof under her bangs. “Pinkie Pie, I was obviously referring to the tenor.”

“Y’know, that ain’t a bad idea.” Applejack allowed herself a small smile as she recalled the lithe, toned form of her brother’s friend. “He’s cute... got a good singin’ voice... friends with Big Mac...”

But she’d seen the look on Rarity’s face---a touch of fear, a touch of distress, mixed with pure blushing embarrassment. “What d’you say, Rares? Is he on the market?”

“He.” She coughed and downed an unladylike gulp of her wine. “Um. Well.”

“It’s a yes or no question, Rarity. Is he single?”

“Hm, how to put this delicately...” A hoof raised to her lips, and she very nearly bit it before remembering her hooficure. “He is single, and... well... he certainly wouldn’t have a problem dating a mare who’s with child, considering he...” Her mouth pulled down in an apologetic grimace. “...Isn’t capable of siring foals.”

“Well, shoot, that ain’t a problem!” she said, brightening up. “I don’t think he’s any less of a stallion jes’ c’ause he’s shootin’ blanks.”

“It’s, um, it’s a bit more complicated than that,” Rarity said, blushing. “He... Applejack, darling, have you ever taken a good look at him? A good, long look? Say, when he’s turned around?”

“What’re you tryna say?”

That’s when Fluttershy said “He doeshn’t have balls!”

Applejack turned her shocked look from the drunk pegasus to Rarity, who let out a dramatic sigh as she wiped the non-existent sweat off her forehead. “It’s true, I’m afraid. I just wish our dear friend over there had found a more tactful way of putting it.”

“Ain’t that jes’ great!” Slumping back in her chair, she flopped her forelegs over her belly and sulked. “The one eligible bachelor in this whole town is a gelding!” She shifted her chin from one hoof to the other. “Then again, I s’pose I shoulda guessed. He’s the only stallion Big Mac introduced me to without sittin’ and glarin’ and carvin’ up an apple with his pocketknife.”

“You could take out a singles ad.”

“I’m sorry,” Rarity said, taking Applejack’s hoof in her own. “I guess the matchmaking gene just doesn’t run on my side of the family.”

Fluttershy squinted at her friend’s downcast eyes. “Guys... guys! She looks really upset!”

The lump pressing against her throat made it difficult to speak. “I been feelin’ lonely fer months now.” She turned her head away, looking at the ‘IT’S A FILLY!’ sign that was now hanging by a few half-torn corners. “I guess I didn’t realize just how alone I was ‘til now.”

With an uneasy, semi-conscious flick of her wings, Twilight ducked her head, keeping her eyes on her pregnant friend. “We shouldn’t have brought this up,” she whispered.

The hindleg Rainbow had draped over the side of her chair stopped its lazy swinging as she sat as close to upright as she could. “C’mon, AJ. You’re not alone! You have us! You have your family! Who needs a stallion anyway?”

When she saw the look on Applejack’s face, she quickly added “And I’m not just saying that because I’m a fillyfooler. Being single isn’t that bad. Look at us!” She unfurled her wings and uncrossed her arms, gesturing around at her friends. “We’re all hot, we’re all smart, we’re all awesome, and only one of us is in a relationship. You don’t need to be dating anypony to be, y’know, whole.”

“It ain’t jes’ that, Rainbow! There are lots of different kinds of alone...” She really wanted to bring her knees up to her barrel and curl into a little ball, but she hadn’t been able to bend her spine that much in ages. “I been single a lot in my life. I know I don’t need someone to ‘complete me’. But... I’m a mare! I have needs! I mean, it’s been, what, four? Four an’ a half months? Maybe five since I last got ta bang the screen door! I think I’m startin’ to forget what a stallion feels like!”

She was just pausing to draw a breath when, from seemingly nowhere and everywhere at once, came a weird, waxy baritone: “My oh my, five whole months? Boo hoo hoo, Applejack! How did you ever survive?”

All six heads swiveled around, trying to follow the sound. Pinkie’s made a few extra rotations. “I wasn’t the only one who heard that, right?”

The voice continued after a familiar chuckle. “Why, I had to go a thousand years without any princum-prancum, and I was... hard as a rock the whole time! Ha ha ha ha!”

Applejack scowled and pulled her forelegs around her tightly. “Okay, Discord,” she called out to the room, “Now we all know yer here---uninvited, might I add---so y’might as well show yerself.”

His words had been echoing off the walls, but they suddenly focused on the worst possible location. A stab of horror went into her throat when she felt the hide on her pregnant paunch ripple with vibrations... from the inside. “Show myself? Well, that would be hard, considering I’m just getting acquainted with little AJ junior!” Oh, Celestia. She could swear that she felt an antler poke at her. “Quite cozy in here, isn’t it?”

She slammed both her forehooves down on her belly and screamed “Discord, if yer in my womb, I swear on my parents’ graves I’m-a cut a switch the size of---“

“Oh, do relax, would you? All that stress is bad for the baby.” He materialized to her left, just a little too close. For some reason, he was wearing a vintage-looking tuxedo that appeared to be in greyscale. “I was merely throwing my voice. Speaking of which---!”

He reached behind his back, and from under one of his wings, he pulled out something that looked like a crude representation of a pony. It was wearing a matching suit with a slit up the back, into which Discord inserted his talon, and the dummy’s glazed eyes came to life, looking around the room and blinking in a hideous, soulless kind of way. “Why don’t you say hello, dummy?”

’Hello, dummy!’ it replied, its loose jaw clacking.

Discord gasped and slapped his paw against his cheek. “That wasn’t very polite! Haven’t you learned anything in your etiquette classes?”

’Sure did! I got an A+!’

“Goodness, that’s a nice grade.”

’Goodness had nothin’ to do with it, Discord!’ With a flick of his wrist, he made the dummy turn its head around the room. ’Nyuk, nyuk, nyuk!’

“Okaaaay,” Applejack said as she inched away from him. From them. “If yer done scarin’ the crap outta me, care to tell us why y’brought that thing here?”

“Why, to give you your foal shower gift, of course!” And he plunked the damn thing down on her knee. “See, there are little levers inside. One controls the eyes, the other controls the mouth. All you have to do is put your talon in the back to make them move. I designed it myself!”

“One problem, there,” she said, moving her leg away. “Uh, two, actually. One, it’s scary beyond all belief, and two, the foal ain’t gonna have a talon.”

He held his finger and thumb an inch apart, ready to snap. “That can be arranged.”

The shriek he let out when Applejack grabbed his goatee sent the windows rattling, and the rest of her friends clapped their hooves over their ears. Yanking him down so his eyes were level with hers, Applejack growled “Discord, if you lay one slimy finger on my baby, I’ll shove that dummy so far up yer ass that it’ll be talkin’ outta you.”

In the time it took her to blink, his eyes were gone, and when she looked down at her hoof she found a piece of sequined string twisted around it instead of his beard. “No need to go all Mama Bear on me,” he said as he popped up behind her opposite shoulder. “If you don’t like it, all you had to do was say so!”

With that, he wrapped his paw around the dummy’s neck and snapped it in two.

“Jeez, Discord!” she hollered as she sharply drew her hoof away from the cracked head. “What’d’ya do that for?!”

He placed his palm on her shoulder, and with his paw, he motioned for her to look at the broken toy. “Quite simple, really. Just give it a minute... Wait for it...”

The glass eye that was hanging by a spring began to glow in soft, crackling colours, which spread down to the socket and around the head. Applejack’s lips parted in surprise as the swirling colours enveloped the entire thing, lifting it into the air and changing its shape from the silhouette of the dummy to an amorphous blob. When the aura dissipated, what was left underneath was a stuffed animal.

“You see?” he explained, handing the plushie over to an astonished Applejack. “It turns into a new toy every time it breaks. I know that babies love banging things around, and it can be such a chore to have to keep replacing their things, not to mention that hideous screeching sound they make...”

She was tuning him out, staring in amazement at the gift. Part of her wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to have something imbued with chaos magic so close to her foal, but the gesture had been so sweet and unexpected that she couldn’t turn it down. She propped the bunny on her belly, and a happy jostle inside her sealed the deal.

“...So, what do you think?”

It took her a second to realize she was being addressed. “I... I never thought I’d say this---or do this, but...”

It was hard to startle Discord, but she managed to do it when she leaned over and kissed what she hoped was his cheek. “Thank ya kindly. This is a real thoughtful gift.”

Fluttershy whooped like she was in a hoofball stadium. “Oooooh! AJ kissed Discord!”

“I think she likes it, too,” Applejack added as she let the kicking inside her bounce the toy around.

“Well.” Discord coughed, and adjusted his bowtie, which made the rest of his tuxedo disappear. “Several millennia old, and I still got it!”

“You don’t look a day over nine hundred,” Rainbow snickered. “Say, were you around when we were talking about setting Applejack up on a date?”

She had been fully expecting a snarky response. They all had. So his lack of a smile came as much of a shock as what he said next: “Not on your very, very short life, Rainbow Dash. I’ve outlived enough of my children already, thank you very much.”

“Hey!” Fluttershy made swirling motions in front of her belly. “Wanna know something cool? Sand tiger sharks have this thing called embyr... embryolo... canniba... shark fetuses eat each other in the womb!”

Discord picked her up under her wings and slung her over his shoulder. “And on that charming note, I’m taking her home.”

“Be sure to turn her on her side when you put her to bed!” Twilight called after them.

“But of course,” he replied, bowing backwards. “We wouldn’t want a repeat of the time someone, whom I will not name, had to spend an hour combing vomit out of her hair---would we, Princess?”

He opened the door if only to slam it, teleporting himself and his charge from the bakery to the dirt trail leading up to her cottage. Once he was sure they were safely out of sight, he switched Fluttershy from a Firemare’s Carry to a more considerate hold, her hocks over his talon and the back of her head resting against the pads on his paw. “You just tell me if you need to piss or vomit, and I’ll get out my hazmat suit.”

“Discord,” she said, as all the happiness from the party began to drain off her face, “What if Applejack never finds the right stallion?”

“Fluttershy, my dear, there are far worse things than being an old maid.”

She was starting to get that wistful look that sometimes misted her eyes when she was reading romance novels. “But what if Flim was the right one for her? What if he never comes back?”

“The ‘what-ifs’ are fun to play with, so long as you don’t let them run your life.” He deftly turned her head away as she let out a tiny burp. “Now, I’m only going to tell you this because you’re too drunk to remember it tomorrow...” Without bending down, he brought his lips down to her floppy ear. “Applejack has friends in high places. And some low ones, come to think of it. Do you really think Little Miss Sunshine and Moon Unit are clueless as to what’s been going on?”

“I dunno.”

“Far be it from me to peek into someone else’s personal mail, of course, but there’s been quite the flurry of letters going back and forth from one castle to another. Just between you and me, I think the Princesses are far more invested in this whole pregnancy brouhaha than they’re letting on. And... oh dear, it seems I’ve bored you to sleep.”

The animals all began to squawk and chitter in surprise when one of Fluttershy’s bedposts shimmied, bubbling and twisting until Discord finally took form. He wrapped the snoring pegasus in her favourite quilt, and gently patted her head. “Good night. Sleep tight. Don’t let Luna bite.”

“So did it work?” Flam asked when he saw Trixie come breezing through the door.

“Success!” she said with a twirl of her foreleg. “As we speak, Flim’s getting himself ready for a date with Trixie’s cousin!”

“With your... cousin?” He folded the newspaper and set it on the couch beside him. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Of course it is! Why wouldn’t it be?”

Whoops. He realized, too late, that he’d just backed himself into a corner. Tell her that the few cousins of hers he’d met were a few flakes short of a croissant, and there’d be a tantrum. Remind her that she was on very shaky ground with the other side of her family, and he’d re-open that still-healing wound. Either way, she’d end up in tears. He could feel sweat beading on his temples.

“Why wouldn’t it be a good idea, Flam?” Now there was a sharp edge in her voice.

“It’s not...” He sincerely hoped his eyes weren’t giving too much away as he racked his brain for the name of the one cousin he knew Trixie disliked. “It’s not the one who wouldn’t stop taking pictures at the, er, wedding rehearsal, is it?”

“I haven’t spoken to that bitch in years,” she sniffed. “Do you know she actually offered me those photos? Even the ones of you beating Flim up? She thought it was funny.”

He winced. He’d only been dimly aware of the flashbulbs going off at the time, and the thought of that low moment in his life being caught on celluloid was even more unnerving than a certain other set of incriminating photos he’d recently been exposed to. “I didn’t mean to---“

“I set him up with someone nice. They’ll be fine.”

“Trixie...” He moved the newspaper off the couch and patted the cushion beside him. “Come here.”

She sat down stiffly, but when he pulled her up against his chest she let out a little squeak. Flam carefully ran his hooftip up from her elbow to her shoulder, and brushed a lock of her hair back into place. Sweeping his lips across her ear, he whispered “We’ve come a long way since then, haven’t we, sugarplum?”

“Mm.” Closing her eyes, she nuzzled up against him until she could feel his whiskers on her horn. “We certainly have.”

“You’ve grown so much, Trixie.” Her breath became light when he felt her warm haunch press against his cutie mark. “Every day, you just get stronger and stronger. But you’re still the same sweet, smooth-talking sorceress I fell in love with,” he went on, clutching her tighter as she giggled. “I don’t know what kind of spell you used, but you actually managed to get my brother out of his funk!”

“Well, he was still sulking when Trixie left him, but if he plays his cards right, his date will have a happy ending. Lower Case practically goes into heat after her second glass of wine.”

“A little too much information there, Trixie.” He glanced at the clock. “But if you’re right... that means we have a few hours on our own.”

She turned her head up and batted her eyelashes at him. “Oh? Did you have something in mind?”

Just a hint of a smile peeked out from under his moustache. “I thought we could have a picnic.”

The coy look disappeared as her not-so-inner diva came out. “A picnic? Flam, it has to be twenty below out there! I’m not going to freeze my ass off just for---”

He was already tugging her elbow, guiding her off the couch. “Trust me!”

Before she could respond, he pushed the bedroom door open and paused by the corner of the bed, grinning. Trixie gasped and clapped a hoof over her mouth. Instead of the lumpy hotel duvet, the bed was covered in a checkered picnic blanket, upon which was propped a basket, a bottle, and two plastic wine glasses. “Flam! When did you---?!”

He eased himself onto the mattress, being careful not to knock anything over. “I set it all up when you went to talk to Flim.”

“But he could’ve said no! That would’ve ruined your plans!”

He shrugged. “You said you could do it, and I believed in you.”

She stepped forward, but paused, her hoof in the air, when something on the ground caught her eye. “Did you---sweet Celestia, did you draw ants on post-it notes and put them on the floor?”

He blushed and ducked his head, just like he had the first time he asked her on a date. “Er, it seemed funny at the time...”

He barely had time to catch the wine bottle when she leapt onto the bed, sending the basket bouncing. “Oh, pookie!” she laughed, throwing her arms around him. “You’re such a goofball! I love you!”

Pressing little kisses against her cheeks, he magicked the bottle to the bedside table and uncorked it. “I love you, too.”

“I really mean it, Flam,” she said as she moved her head around to rest her chin on his barrel, staring up at him with her wide, shining eyes. “These past few months, we... I... I’ve never been happier.”

When he began to reach to his side, she assumed he was going for the bottle, but he seemed to be aiming for his pocket instead. “I’m so glad you said that.”

“Why?”

“Because...” He cleared his throat, coughed, and tried to clear it again. The nervousness on his face was quite different than she’d seen before---it almost looked like the shivers she could feel going through his body had made it up to his ears. There was a quaver in his voice when he said “I wanted to... I need to ask you something.”

Gently, he pushed her back on the bed so that he had enough room between them to pull the little velvet box out of his pocket. All that came out of her throat was a strangled eeping noise.
Still trembling a bit, he shakily lifted the lid and held the ring out to her. “Trixie, my beloved, will you marry m---“

“YES!” In a flash he was on his back, his forelegs trapped at his sides in a bone-crushing bear hug. “YES! YES! YES! A thousand times yes!”

“Mmph!”

She smothered him with kisses, not even caring when her pouted lips hit his nostril or his eyelid. “Yes! Oh, Flam, yes yes yes! I, I didn’t think I could ever be happier, but you just proved me wrong!” When she finally pried herself off him, they were both pink-faced and beaming. “Oh, Flam! Pookie! I’m going to get married!!”

“So am I!”

“For real this time,” she said as she yanked him up by his collar. Although her smile was gone, the intense look of joy was still on her features. “I promise you, Flam, it’s for real. Nothing’s going to wrong this time.”

“I---“

Still clutching his shirt, she tightened her forelegs until their muzzles were touching. “I know I was a real diva last time,” she said with a surprising quietness. “Everything had to be my way or the highway. Well, this time, we do it together. It’ll be our day, not just mine.”

Once she’d let go of his collar, he nodded towards the wine. “Shall I propose a toast?”

“No! Not yet.” She ducked her head down, her mane splashing about her shoulders. “Put the ring on me first!”

She gasped at the cool, slightly staticky feeling of the metal sliding down her horn, and when she looked back up and locked eyes with her lover, something inside her clicked: this was it. Things had changed---she could just feel it in her heart. This was real. She could even see her reflection in his eyes, complete with a little added sparkle at the base of her horn.

“Let’s seal it with a kiss.”

“Your bride wants more than a kiss,” she purred, grabbing his hoof and tugging him off the bed. “Leave the picnic for later.”

“Should I move the blanket, or---?”

“No, pookie. You did such a wonderful job setting it up, I wouldn’t want to ruin it.” Backing out the bedroom door, she dropped the hoof she was holding and flopped down on the rug, as if she was about to make a snow angel. “Here!”

He straddled her prone form and knelt down, nuzzling her all around. “A shag carpet... how appropriate.”

She playfully shoved him. “Have you been watching naughty movies?”

“Those tarty actresses don’t hold a candle to your beauty. Why would I want to look at pencil sketches when I can admire a beautiful masterpiece like you?”

“Oh, you’re getting good at knowing but the right answer is!” she said as she pulled him closer. “But, come on, Flam. We’ve looked at porn together.”

“My point still stands!” Using his hindlegs, he softly rubbed his belly against hers, nickering into the crook of her neck. “I’m so lucky to have found such a smart, lovely, amazing mare. You are a masterpiece.”

“And I’m all yours.” She giggled and kissed his forehead. “My knight in shining armour.”

He bowed his head even further, tickling kisses down her belly. “How may I serve you, milady?”

With a twist of her spine, she clamped her thighs on his cheeks and rolled to her left, sighing as the waxed tips of his moustache grazed over her nipples, causing them to stiffen. “Start slow,” she breathed. “We have all night.”

There had always been a deep, frantic kind of urgency to their lovemaking, especially after years of being apart; but over the past few months, after many tears and many hugs and many long nights spent just quietly talking all tangled up in the sheets, they’d begun to learn how to take their time. Although he could feel her slippery clit winking against his chin, he didn’t rush; using lips and tongue and teeth, he simply explored her with the kind of finesse he wished he’d had when they first met.

Trixie groaned as she leaned her cheek against the pile, and brought a hoof up to touch her new ring. The hot, rushing strokes of his tongue were soothing, but her heart was still lashing against her ribs, pumping her full of giddy energy. Married! I’m really getting married!

The spiral of his horn was moving in graceful waves along her belly, his mane dragging between her teats. Grinning, she tilted her leg up so she could get a better look at him. Flam was normally so prim and well-groomed; how many ponies would have the privilege of seeing him like this, his eyelashes sticking together and his cheeks blooming with blush and sweat? How could she describe the sweetness of the sex-scented kisses he’d give her after pulling up from between her stifles? How so very few had been so very lucky?

“Oh, Flam,” she whispered as she stroked his head, the gelled waves of his mane spilling into red-and-white curls. “My sweet pookie.”

The frilly piece of flesh he’d been suckling popped out of his mouth, and he pushed her leg off of his ear. “What was that?!”

“I just said---“

His shrunken pupils were on the door, his ears folding back in alarm. “No, not you! I thought I heard someth---“

There was a slam, and the doorknob rattled back and forth in the socket. “Open up, Trixie!”

“Shit!”

A few seconds was all it took for them to scramble apart, even though they were both two fumbling messes of clumsy hooves. The lock made a grinding metal-on-metal sound, and in a panic Trixie started wiping every part of her body that felt even remotely sticky. “He’s not coming in, is he?” she hissed.

Flam was hectically trying to smooth his disheveled hair back in place---his moustache was so frazzled it looked like he’d bitten on a firecracker. “Knowing him? Yeah, probably!”

Hopping nervously from one hoof to another, she tried to decide whether it would be faster to magically dry the wet spot or just flip the rug over. “Didn’t you lock the door?!” She threw a pillow over it instead.

“Yes, but---but I gave him the spare key!”

A hot, wet drop hit her gaskin, and with a shrill shriek she plunked her ass down on the pillow. “Dammit, Flam, why would you do something like that?!”

“I said it was for emergencies! I didn’t think he’d---“

The lock finally snicked into place, and Trixie shot Flam a horrified look. “Flam, quick!” she said, pointing at his erection. He yelped, grabbed a magazine, and tossed it over his lap just as Flim threw the door open.

“F-Flim!” his brother stuttered with a fake smile. “I thought you were, ah, eating out!”

Ignoring him, he stomped over to Trixie, blinking away the rancid liquid that was dripping into his eyes. “Trixie, don’t you ever. EVER! Set me up on a date again! Do you hear me?”

She feebly gestured at his mane. “Uh, you have a little something on your---“

“Everypony in your family is INSANE! Do you know what this is?” he barked as he wiped his face with his fetlocks. “Onion wine. Yes, you heard that right! Onion wine! Who makes wine out of onions? Your cousin brought her own wine to the restaurant, and I thought, okay, she’s frugal, I can respect that. But the first thing she said---the very first thing, Trixie!---wasn’t ‘Hello’ or ‘How do you do’, it was ‘You’re going to pay the corkage fee, right?’ Who does that?!”

When he realized his brother wasn’t looking at him, Flam quickly turned the magazine right side up. “She was probably just nervous.”

“Nervous? Well, I suppose she must have been, because she’d downed three huge glasses of liquid courage before I even got there! I mean, I knew she wasn’t going to try to pick up the cheque, but I had no idea she’d try to pick up the fucking maitre d’! Oh, and this is where it gets good.” He lunged forward and grabbed Trixie by her shoulders; when her rump lifted off the pillow, she squeezed her back legs together and brought her tail over her sex. He didn’t seem to notice, still too caught up in his rant. “She told me that you told her I’d be... how did she put it again?... Oh, yes! ‘Up for anything’. That I’d go for ‘anything with a heartbeat’. Would you care to clarify?”

She cautiously looked down at his clenched teeth, and then back up to his eyes. “Well. Ahem. Trixie may have exaggerated your, ah, sexual prowess in order to capture her cousin’s attention---“

“You captured something, alright! She spends the whole time sticking her hoof in her mouth, and when I say one wrong thing I end up wearing her drink! And, yes, before you ask, I left her with the bill! She called me a tease and all sorts of unrepeatable names before the damn appetizers came, and she ordered an entree and a soup and a salad and a dessert! No way was I going to be pa...”

He trailed off as his nostrils flared. Still gripping Trixie by the shoulders, he looked from her red face to his brother’s, and noticed the awkward, protective way Flam was holding the magazine. “Did I interrupt something?”

They said “Yes!” and “No!” at the same time.

“Oh,” he said, releasing her. “So that’s why you were so eager to get rid of me.”

“Flim, it’s not---“

“So much for ‘you have to move on with your life’, eh, Trixie? If you two wanted to thump the headboards, all you needed to do was buy me a pair of earplugs. Honestly, I---“

Again, his voice dimmed before the end of his sentence, and his eyes narrowed; but this time, they weren’t meeting hers. He was staring at her horn. “Trixie. What. Are. You. Wearing?”

“It’s an engagement ring!” she said brightly. “Do you like it?”

After a moment of silence, he picked up the side table and threw it against the wall. “NO!!”

Flam screamed when he saw one of the legs snap off. “Dammit, Flim! There goes the deposit!”

His peeled-back lips rippled as he seethed in pain. “NO!” he shouted as he turned on his heel to go stomping out of the room. “No! No! No! I am not going through this bullshit again! You’re both crazy!”

They both watched in silence as he slammed the door, and then slowly turned to face each other. Flam folded the magazine and put it back on the couch. By this point, he had nothing left to hide.

“We’ll say the maid did it,” Trixie said as she picked up the table.

“Something’s wrong.”

She tried, and failed, to jimmy the leg back in place, and settled for leaning the table against the wall with the broken side hidden. “Of course something’s wrong! He had a bad date.”

“No, something’s really wrong. Did you see the way he flinched?”

“It’s because he throws like a filly.” She leaned in for a kiss, but was surprised when he offered his cheek instead of his lips. Her shock turned indignant when he rose to his hooves and headed toward the door. “Where do you think you’re going?!”

“I’m going to see what’s wrong with him, Trixie. He doesn’t normally act like this. And, quite frankly, I thought I smelled something a little... off.”

“He had onion juice in his mane! Flam, you---“

“I’ll be back in a minute, sugarplum,” he said firmly, and closed the door behind him.

She sat back down on the pillow, folded her arms, and huffed. “...Fine.”

Since his brother hadn’t extended them the courtesy, Flam decided to forego knocking. Flim was standing on his hindlegs, his head drooped over the sink, staring aimlessly down the drain as a trickle of water circled it.

“Brother?”

Although Flim didn’t look back, he did at least acknowledge his presence: “Why, Flam? Why?”

“We can talk about that later,” he said as he took a cautious step toward him. “I’m worried about you.”

The untrimmed hairs at the back of his mane ruffled. “I’m fine! Why wouldn’t I be fine?!”

Okay, so you want to be petulant. I can deal with that. Now that he’d narrowed the gap between them, Flam decided to risk putting his hoof on Flim’s shoulder. “Brother. You’re sick.”

Predictably enough, he slapped it away. “Well you’re the one who proposed to Trixie! TWICE! What does that say about you?!”

“I mean you’re physically sick.” He gingerly put his frog against his twin’s forehead. “Look at you. You’re all flushed and sweaty, and it feels like you’re running a fever.”

“Flam, I’m fine.”

“And you smell.”

“I have onion wine in---“

He sighed, pinning Flim’s lips shut with a hooftip. “I don’t mean that. You don’t smell like onions---if I didn’t know better, brother, I’d say you smell like an infected wound.” He let his hoof drop from Flim’s mouth, but kept it in the air in case he needed to shut him up again. “Be honest with me. When was the last time you changed your dressing?”

He just huffed and looked away, but Flam noticed the weird angle he was holding his foreleg against his body.

“Come on, now,” he said, reaching towards his elbow. “Let me take a look at it.”

“Not now, Flam. Just... not now.” The put-on anger on his face was wavering, as if he barely had the energy to hold an expression for longer than a short argument. “I’ve had a hard day, and I have a lot to process right now. I just need time to think.” He looked at his hooves with eyes like slits. “Alone.”

“Flim---“

“I need to be alone,” he said in a tiny voice. “Please, brother. Just give me a night to myself.”

Flam took a long time to respond, but they’d known each other so well and for so long that Flim didn’t bother to repeat himself. Like many twins, they understood that sometimes the words that weren’t said were more important.

“Go to bed,” Flam finally said. His body was turned towards the door, but he was still peeking over his shoulder. “I’ll come check on you in a few hours. Okay?”

“Okay.”

He paused in the doorway and looked across the hall at the door to the room he and his fiancée shared. “Remember to drink lots of water.”

“Flam?”

“Yes?”

“When you do get married, let me help you with your cummerbund. You wore it upside down last time.”

Although it wasn’t enough to completely break the tension, it cracked it enough so that they could chuckle a bit and give each other a side-hug before Flam left his brother to his own devices. Weary and drained as he was, the only thing he felt he had the power to do was shuffle to the bathroom.

He stared at his reflection as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt. Maybe Flam was right---he did look awful, and that headache that had been festering all day wasn’t showing any signs of letting up. He tossed his shirt over the rusted shower rail and turned, wincing, to look at the hot, puffy area on his side. Picking the medical tape away was easy, but prying the gauze away was trickier since it was now sticking to the matted coat underneath, so he gave up halfway through; that was enough to show the top part of the wound, and the stitch he’d popped a week ago but hadn’t bothered to get re-done. Now there was another broken link in the thread, presumably from when he’d thrown the table. Outpatient visits and medical supplies were starting to eat away at the dwindling income they’d been bringing in, so instead of replacing the dressing, he used a square of toilet paper to wipe of the greenish goo and taped everything back in place. What was the point in going to the clinic all the time? He could take care of it himself, even if the wound kept re-opening.

His legs felt both bulky and wobbly as he made his way to bed, and he used his teeth instead of his magic to pull the duvet off before crawling under the sheets. Before he turned off the lamp, he picked the sonogram picture up off the bedside table, and gave it a kiss, and whispered “Good night.”

When he opened his eyes again, the first thing he noticed was that the ceiling looked different. The hotel room was almost cubical, but its proportions looked stretched, as if the whole structure had been built differently. “Wha...?”

He sat up, yawning, and brought a hoof up to rub his eyes. The cool fabric of his pyjamas brushed over his injured side, but... he couldn’t feel the pinch of stitches. Flim grabbed at his ribs, feeling around, but under the cotton was just smooth, unbroken skin.

“I... didn’t go to bed in pyjamas,” he said out loud. Plucking the hem between his hooves, he held it out to examine. It was a pale blue, covered in little stars and comets, the kind of pyjamas he wore as a colt. They even had that purple stain on the front from the time he’d dropped a popsicle, but that had been years ago. There was no way they should still fit, unless---

“I’m dreaming.”

He sat up straighter and looked around; yes, this was a bedroom he recognized. This was the place they’d lived in when Connie had that Manehatten gig. It was dark, but he could make out Flam’s matching, unoccupied bed on the other side of the room.

“Wait. If I know I’m asleep, that means this is a lucid dream, right?” He looked over his shoulder. “I should be able to alter things. Hm... can I grow wings and fly?”

“You can’t fly until you die.”

He squawked in surprise, his head whipping around. Bunched up under the covers right next to him was another pony, only her ears sticking out. Had she been there a minute ago? “Who are you?”

“Don’t you recognize me?” she said as she pulled the covers down to show her face.

“A-Applejack?!”

Without opening her eyes, she nodded and whispered "I'm cold."

This was weird. Despite the sick feeling in the back of his chest that something was amiss, Flim closed the space between them and pulled her into an embrace. He was immediately shocked---not only did she feel ice-cold, but the heavy bump in her belly was gone.

"Applejack? Are you alright? You don’t sound like yourself."

"I'm cold," she repeated. She hadn't moved.

He leaned in to give her a kiss, but had to pull back. "Er, I hate to tell you this, but you... smell a little off."

A strange smile crept up her face, and for some reason, none of her other facial features moved. It was as if her mouth was being pulled by marionette strings.

"Are you quite alright, sweetheart?"

"No," she said, and opened her eyes. Or, at least, she opened where her eyes used to be. With a choked scream, Flim jumped backwards when he found himself staring into empty sockets.

"Oh, Celestia!" he said hoarsely.

"Celestia's not with us right now," came the breathy voice through her unmoving mouth.

His voice had shriveled up. "What's h-happening?"

"Don'tcha get it, Flim?" Applejack sing-songed. "I'm dead!"

The Omen

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After the third knock, Flam magicked the key out of his pocket and let himself in. He hadn’t expected Flim to fall asleep so soon; he must have been more ill than either of them thought. Even with the hallway light on, the hotel room seemed dark and dank, the stale smell of infection hovering in the air. Flam sighed and began filling the kettle.

“Brother?” he called towards the bedroom. “Are you asleep?”

Normally Flim would reply with a snarky ’Why, yes, Flam, I’m sound asleep. Thank you for asking.’ All that came from the cracked door was a grunt.

As he fiddled with the tea bag, waiting for the water to boil, Flam sat himself down on the tiles and thought about his fiancée, sleeping one room down. How much he loved her, and how he hated to see her tears. She had a sister, and yet...

“But you just proposed to me!” she’d screamed. “Shouldn’t I be your one and only?!”

...And yet, when it came down to it, she was a singleton. “Sugarplum, you can’t understand what it’s like to be a twin---“

“Oh, don’t you try that pitiful excuse on me again! You’re twins, but you’re not joined at the hip! He’s a grown stallion, Flam. He can take care of himself.”

“Not if he’s running a fever, Trixie. Come, now---I’ll just go check on him, and I’ll be back before you know it.”

As the conversation rang through his mind, Flam could feel a lump rise in his throat. He hated to admit it, but there was an inkling of truth to what she’d said. If their engagement was to hold this time, he couldn’t be by his brother’s side as much as he wanted anymore.

A startled, muffled cry came from the bedroom, making him jump. He could hear some thrashing; Flim must not be having a restful night. After dunking the tea bag in the boiling water, he arranged the necessary items on the tray---a little pot of milk, a few sugar cubes, a slice of lemon, and a snifter of brandy he’d pulled from his mini-fridge---and pushed his way into the bedroom.

"Flim?”

His brother had only been asleep for a half-hour at most, and yet he was already twisted up in his sheets like a fly in a spider’s web. His eyelids were rustling with a frantic kind of REM sleep.

Flam put the tea tray on the bedside table and nudged his twin's sweaty shoulder. “Flim?”

“Oh, Celestia...” he rasped out.

“Flim?” he said again as he lightly touched his elbow. “Wake up. You’re having a nightmare.”

Even through the thick keratin of his hoof, Flam could feel the heat of fever. No worry; he had prepared for this. He absentmindedly wiped the tip of the thermometer against his vest, and stuck it between Flim’s slack lips.

As his mouth rippled around the intrusion, Flim’s puffy left eye opened a crack. Flam moved so that he was in his brother’s line of vision, and forced a smile. “You keep that in there for a few minutes, okay? I’ll be back.”

As quickly as he could, he rushed to the bathroom and soaked a facecloth in cold water. All thoughts of Trixie’s conniption fit faded away, Flim’s ghastly pallor replacing them in his mind. Flam didn’t believe in intuition, but he somehow just knew that something was seriously wrong.

He rushed back into the bedroom, the soaked washcloth dangling from his hooftip. “C'mon, brother. Let’s get you cooled down, and then you can get some fluids into you.”

All he got was incoherent mumbling, cracked lips moving just enough for the thermometer to fall off onto a cushion.

He picked it up with a hoof while using magic to wipe the cool cloth against Flim's forehead and muzzle. One look at the mercury level, however, and Flam's ears flickered in irritation. He couldn't believe he'd fallen for that stupid joke again.

"Hey!" He cuffed his brother, not enough to leave a mark, but definitely enough that he should have felt it. "I know you're not really asleep!"

His eyes oscillated under the lids. "Brg... ?"

Shaking the thermometer in his face, Flam snapped "Knock it off! I know you held this against the lantern!"

"App... Abljag...?"

That sent a little chill down the back of his neck. Ever since they'd left Ponyville, Flim had insisted that neither of them speak that name out loud again.

"...Brother?" He carefully lifted one sticky eyelid as he rattled the mercury back in place. The instinctive reaction would be to blink and squint the intrusive hoof away, but Flim's iris had slid all the way back up in his skull. He was asleep... so that meant the previous temperature was no prank.

Flam jammed the thermometer back in the slack muzzle, and it slid right back out. For a few tense minutes he sat there holding his brother's jaw shut and counting the fluttering pulse in his jugular. When he looked at the temperature the second time, Flam went nearly as pale as Flim.

"No," he breathed. "That... that's impossible."

“Sure was nice of ‘em, wasn’t it?”

Big Mac nodded slightly, trying not to let the yoke shift around his neck. “Eeyup.”

Applejack glanced back at him, and her smile widened when she saw his. Although her brother had been his usual placid self while loading the gifts into the cart, she’d noticed the brief, faltering look of joy on his face when he’d spotted the stuffed bunny. Not that he’d ever admit it, but she was sure it had reminded him of ‘Snowy’, the little plush rabbit he used to drag around everywhere. He’d always do so by holding its foot in his mouth, mumbling something about ‘luck’. Even as a colt, he’d been so superstitious.

Not that she could blame him---they had both made the unspoken choice to walk the long way around Sweet Apple Acres so that Applejack didn’t have to be anywhere near the quiet, moss-grown field dotted with headstones. Big Mac even made a point of stepping between her and the yew tree. You could never be too careful, after all. “When you’re carrying life, you can’t get too near death,” Ma had said a few times.

“You’ll never guess who gave me that bunny rabbit.”

He tilted his head a bit and raised an eyebrow.

“Discord!”

The hoof he’d been about to place on the ground skipped a bit, and he had to shuffle to keep from tripping. “What?!”

“Yeah, I know. I wasn’t expecting him, either.” She laughed, remembering the look of shock on his face when she’d pecked his cheek. “Gave ‘im a kiss fer his trouble.”

“It’s...” He cautiously eyed the stack of presents. “It’s safe, ain’t it?”

“A’course it is! He wouldn’t booby-trap a toy!”

His mouth pulled around, as if he was trying not to scowl. “You c’n never be too careful when yer with foal.”

She had opened her mouth to answer, but he apparently wasn’t done: “Have you had a craving you couldn’t get lately?”

She sucked her teeth, thinning her lips around them. The only thing she hated more than a stallion asking prying questions about her pregnancy was when he was right. “I don’t see how that’s any business a’yers, unless yer sayin’ you wanna run out an’ get me some groceries.”

“Answer me, AJ.”

Quickly licking up the little slaver that had slid out of the corner of her mouth, she snapped “Yes, okay? Yes! I jes’ ate my weight in party food, but I’m starvin’ an’ all I c’n think about right now is a great, big, sticky bowl a’kimchi! You happy now, Mac?!”

She could tell by the way he bit his lip that he was trying to suppress a smile. “You hate Koltrean food.”

“Not now, I don’t.” Why did he even have to bring it up? “What’s it t’you?”

“Don’t touch yer face, AJ,” he said with a soft but surprising sternness.

“Quit tellin’ me what to do! Y’ain’t my---“

His huge hoof shot out in front of her, and she jolted in place. Since he hadn’t been trying to keep her from tripping, she looked up to his face, puzzled. Once he was sure she was paying attention, he moved his hoof from her barrel to his neck, and inched the yoke back. “See that?”

She just nodded. Of course she saw it---the tiny, smudge-like birthmark on his neck that had always embarrassed him, even though it was barely noticeable.

“If a pregnant mare can’t satisfy a cravin’, it poisons her whole body,” he explained. “Until the cravin’ passes, she can’t touch herself anywhere---or else the foal will end up with a birthmark where her hoof landed.”

“That’s the dumbest thing I ever h---“

“Ma wanted to eat a bunch’a unripe green apples right off the branches, but Pa wouldn’t let her,” he said, his voice low, his eyes darting away. “He said it’d make her sick. So she started scratchin’ her neck.”

“Lemme guess. That’s when she was carryin’ you?”

“Eeyup.”

“Big MacIntosh, I know yer the type who throws salt over his shoulder when he spills it, but even you can’t possibly believe somethin’ as stupid as that! It’s jes’ a silly supersti....”

And that’s when her voice pinched out into a squeak. Her brother seemed confused for a moment, and then he followed her gaze---and he saw it, too.

Perched atop their house was a shadowy figure, craning its sleek head down to the nursery window. Its beak jutted out towards the glass, and it tapped it, as if testing the strength.

Big Mac’s jaw muscles clenched as he tried to speak. “A--Applejack---!”

She gulped, watching the bird. It ruffled a bit, turning to preen at its black feathers, and then took to the air. It was gone in a flash.

There was silence between them for a few moments. Applejack was the first to find her voice. “Was that...”

“I-I did-dn’t see it clear enough.”

And neither had she. They looked at each other, and then back to the nursery window. Because of the distance, she hadn’t been able to see any details, so she couldn’t be sure if it had been a blackbird, the symbol of good luck----or a raven, the symbol of impending death.

Flim screamed, his hide prickling with terror. His hind hooves were skittering for purchase on the mattress, trying frantically to back away from the gross visage beside him. This seemed to amuse the Applejack-thing, who squalled out a laugh; her jaw was chittering around, making her molars clack into her moist, sticky gums. The coverlet was balled up between his shaking hooves, and he clutched it tightly against his chest, as if the scratchy fabric could protect him from whatever entity had taken residence in his dream. “No! No, you’re not dead! You’re not! You can’t be!”

Applejack’s body limply lifted from the bed, the sheets peeling off her back. “How would you know? And why would you care? You left us!”

“T-that’s not---“ His eyes flicked down to her exposed abdomen, and he gulped when he saw a crudely-stitched gash running from her barrel to her deflated teats. “That’s not fair! That’s not fair! You told me to leave! You said---“

Her rump moved into the air, followed by her thighs, and soon she was only barely touching the bed with the tips of her hooves. She’d mercifully turned her head from him to the ceiling, but the eerie smile was still in place. “Life’s not fair, and yet death is the greatest equalizer.”

“But---but if I’d---“

Celestia damn it. She was actually levitating, her spine stiff and her legs dangling. “’If ‘ifs’ and ‘buts’ were candy and nuts...” Her teeth snapped and chattered as the giggled.

Flim trembled, watching her take to the air. The only coherent thought in his now-ragged mind was: How is she flying? There was one answer that seemed rational, given the circumstances:

"P-Princess Luna?" he said with a quaver. "Is that you?"

"I beg your pardon?"

“Luna. Princess Luna. It h-has to be you, your Highness,” he said, slightly emboldened by the hint of surprise on her unnatural face. “And, with all due respect, I have to say that this is in very poor taste.”

Applejack's body stopped hovering, and she shut her husk-like eyelids. Then she let out a nasty laugh that seemed to loop and coil around the room, echoing off the walls.

"First you thought I was Applejack, and now you think I'm Luuuunaaaaaaaaa?"

Flim shuffled backwards until his back bumped against the headboard. Her usual alto had slid down a few octaves, becoming dark and oily in the process. "How---?! Your voice, it..."

"Ahahaha! Oh, I do a good drag, don't I?" the corpse said, striking a pose.

"What...?" He started shaking his head furiously. A stallion? What kind of stallion would have the power to enter somepony's dream?

"A dream? Oh no, you're terribly mistaken. This is no dream."

"Then explain this!" he said, dropping the coverlet that had been around his barrel.

"That? Well, you were trying to be a little brat and dropped a sickle on yourself."

He looked down in surprise. The wound was back, but now the skin that was tugging around the stitches looked pink and puffy. "Wh-what?! It was gone a minute ago!"

"I told you, this isn't a dream. You're not simply in your subconscious; we're in a different plane altogether," the creature said through Applejack's gaping mouth, and it flew a bit closer. Shaking its head, it let out a little tsk of disappointment. "And just look at you! You haven't changed the dressing on that wound in a fortnight, and now you have a nasty infection. I hate to sound like your mother---"

"You leave her out of this!"

It recoiled in mock-shock. "Ooh! Still huffy about that, are we?"

"Just..." He sighed and put his face in his hooves. "Just tell me what's going on. Please."

"Now where's the fun in that?"

Flim grabbed the nearest object---the bedside lantern---and hurled it at the floating corpse as hard as he could. He barely noticed it sailing right through the... was it a ghost? "TELL ME!"

"Very well." Closing the space between them, the thing with Applejack's face smiled and closed her eyes. "You see, Luna comes to good little ponies who need help being rescued from their nightmares."

The eyelids shot open again, and to Flim's horror he found himself looking into two sickly yellow bulbs that could barely be called eyes. Somehow those infected-looking pupils were worse than the empty sockets.

"...I, on the other hand," the voice went on as a cold, clammy hooftip traced down the side of Flim's face, "Come to meddle when somepony's fucked up."

His mind nearly shattered at what happened next. He had no words for what happened to Applejack's front hooves---they just exploded. As fragments of keratin flittered to the floor, a long, scaly talon shot out from her left stump, and a paw from her right.

"And you, Flim Skim, have fucked! Up! Royally!"

The doorknob was clattering as the key was jammed into it. Trixie made a little noise out her snout, halfway between a snort and a whimper. Even though she could have used her magic, she chose to lick her hooftip to turn the page on her magazine---it made her lack of attention toward the stallion at the door more pronounced. She didn’t even bother to turn when she heard the door bang against the wall. “Well. It’s about time you came back.”

“Trixie!”

“Oh, how sweet. You remembered my name,” she spat without looking up. “Considering how eager you were---and always are---to run off and look after Flim, Trixie wouldn’t be surprised if you changed your mind and proposed to him instead!”

But she squealed in surprise when she felt his fetlocks wrap around her ankle. The magazine fluttered to the floor, and she turned her startled gaze down to where Flam was laying prostrate, like a sinner at Heaven’s door. “P-Pookie...?”

He clutched her ankle tight to his chest, his eyes glimmering. “Trixie!” he said hoarsely. “Trixie, please! You have to help me!”

She was already off the couch, and dropped to her knees so that she could pull his heated cheeks up to her face. “What? What is it?!”

“Trixie, he... he’s dying!”

“What?!”

There had only been one other time she’d seen this kind of desperation on Flam’s face, and it terrified her deep down to her core. “Flam---pookie---just breathe! You’re going to give yourself a panic attack---“

But he shook his head out of her grasp, tears and hot snot creasing into his coat. He couldn’t even focus his eyes. “He’s dying! Trixie, he’s dying! You have to help me!”

“What do you mean?”

“Trixie,” he said, and finally looked her in the eyes. The raw panic she saw there was infectious. “We don’t have much time. His temperature is so high he’s going to get brain damage if I---if we---don’t do something, and fast!”

“B-but---“

His voice was so plaintive, and for just a moment, all she could see before her was a petrified little colt. She brought her frogs up to cup his sticky face. “Trixie,” Flam mouthed out, “I-if he dies, I’m going to die, too.”

“Run,” was all she could say. “Just, run. Run to him. The pegasus next door is a nurse---she’ll know what to do.”

He went crashing and stumbling out the door, and Trixie could feel her blood hammering in the little divot between her collarbones. That’s when she knew, when she finally understood---for the first time in her entire life, she realized what true love meant. It meant being so bonded to your mate that you could feel his panic, as if by osmosis. It meant she could feel his heart beating against her own, even when she wasn't holding him close. If Flim meant that much to him, well, she'd just have to learn to make room for him in her heart, because there was no way under Celestia’s sun she was going to let Flam slip away again.

Flim pushed his hooves against the mattress, forcing himself away from the hovering spectre.

"I know what you're thinking," it said through Applejack's mouth. "And don't worry. That puddle you're lying in is actually sweat."

"Who... what are you?" he croaked.

"Well, that depends. Which would you prefer---the traditional-yet-ever-so-cliche 'I go by many names' speech, or should I just cut to the chase?"

"Er... the latter." He looked away. "And please. Please stop posing as Applejack."

"I suppose you're right. I don't have the hips to pull this look off, anyway." The claw reached up to her face, and the talons sunk into her bangs. The visual was bad enough, but it was the squelching, ripping noise that made Flim regret his request; he had his eyes closed by the time her face had peeled away to the muzzle, but he'd seen what looked like antlers pop up when her scalp was torn off. He heard a slap, and realized, bile rising in his throat, that that must have been the sound of her skin as it hit the floor.

"Ooh-hoo, look at your face! Tears! Real tears!" He clasped his talon and paw together over his chest, sarcastically batting his eyelashes. "You actually care about her, don't you?"

Shuddering, Flim pressed his frogs to his eyelids. "What did I ever do to deserve this...?"

"Would you like the answer in essay form, or bullet points?" Something padded and leathery touched his cheek, then seized his jaw, forcing him to turn around. He opened his eyes, because he had a feeling that was inevitable.

He'd heard of Discord, of course, but he'd never seen him in the flesh, as it were. Artists were fond of depicting him, but when it came to cameras, he was strangely elusive. The descriptions Flim had heard made him sound like the kind of stew he ate when the groceries were running out---a bit of this, a little of that---but he had no idea seeing the real thing face-to-face would be so terrifying. It didn't help that he was absent-mindedly wiping Applejack's blood off his snout.

He had to force himself not to look at the shed skin on the floor. "Is she dead or isn't she?"

"As you are, but in her eyes. The waking world sees otherwise."

He fought the urge to punch that snaggle-tooth down his throat. "Dammit, I don't have time for riddles!"

"You're absolutely right. You don't have much time." With a snap of his fingers, the bedroom window creaked open, letting in a blast of cold air. The snow swirled around Discord's neck before settling in the form of a scarf. "This Spring won't bring a baby."

"What?! But..." Pressing his hooves to his temples, he mumbled "But we---she was conceived in the Spring. She has to have a Spring birthday. She..." Slowly, he raised his eyes from his lap. Something was clenching at his stomach, something like a cross between rage and fear. The talk about Applejack’s mortality had been bad enough, but talking about his daughter like that was over the fucking line. "Unless... is she going to die?"

He climbed out of the bed. Now he could feel every slam of his heartbeat, every surge of adrenalin. "Is she going to die? Or are they both dead already?!"

Discord, however, seemed preoccupied with sculpting his own replica out of snow, but Flim got his attention by smashing it into a tiny blizzard. "Answer me!"

"Well! That was rude," he said as he scuffed his hoof over what was left of the snow-creature. "I didn't even get the chance to place the piece de resistance!"

Before Flim could answer, an obscenely-large carrot was wagging in his face.

"And this wasn't going to be his nose."

He smacked it away. "Will you please start making sense?!"

With a laboured sigh, he floated into the air and coiled himself around the bedpost. "Oh, honestly. You ponies are all the same. It's always 'Start making sense, Discord!' 'Use logic, Discord!' 'Don't do that in a public place, Discord!' I have needs too, you know! Ugh." He ran his paw over his antlers. "It's even worse than when I tried to introduce String Theory. Now."

With another snap, he'd conjured a crude figurine in a striped vest. "This is you." Using his opposable tail, he lifted the Applejack-skin-mask off the floor. "This is your beloved." Then he 'walked' the Flim-figurine over to the mask. "You go trot yourself on back to her and tell her what I've told you. And don't think you can do it through a letter! She's been throwing those away, and donating the money you send to... oh, I don't know. Something..." Twirling his talon at the wrist, he searched for the right word with a sneer of disgust. "...noble. Appropriately enough, I think it's orphans."

Like any salespony worth his salt, Flim had a pretty good bullshit detector, and something about what Discord was saying seemed.... off. It almost felt like a set-up, but for what, he couldn't be sure. "If you're so chummy with her, why not tell her yourself?"

"Oh, my, no. It has to come from your lips."

"I don't know what you're trying to get me to do, but I'm not buying it." He tapped his own forehead. "If you really are Discord, why not just bop me between the eyes and brainwash me?"

"That would be a much too vulgar display of power, Flimmy," he sniffed.

"What is the point of all this? What are you getting at? What do you want, my soul?!”

Discord chuckled. “No thank you. If I wanted something shrivelled, black, and slimy, I’d hang around after Celestia visits the Little Fillies’ Room!”

Flim pulled his knees to his barrel, trying to calm his breathing. He wasn’t religious; he never had been, and he refused to let this experience shake his lack of faith. His had been the last generation of ponies to grow up without the Princess of the Night coming to save them from their nightmares, and he certainly didn’t expect her to do him the courtesy now. Even though Discord’s oleaginous scent was in the air, and he could see every jagged detail of his body, he couldn’t believe---couldn’t bring himself to believe---that this was anything other than a dream. A horrid, particularly vivid fever dream, but a dream nonetheless. This all had to be part of his subconscious. It just had to be. No way was he actually stuck in another realm with a mismatched jigsaw creature.

It took him a few seconds to gather his thoughts. If this is my subconscious, then he’s going to play by my rules. "You're trying to make me do the right thing, aren't you?"

When Discord's only reply was to summon a stein of beer, Flim pressed on: "I can't believe it. You. You're trying to make me do what's right? You?"

"Oh, but that's what I love about this situation! There is no 'right'!" Cackling, he began a serpentine slither around the ceiling. "What are you going to do, Flim? Abandon your brother, your loyal brother, your only companion since you were conceived, who's stood by your side despite all the questionable things you've done---or go and rescue the mare you love and your unborn daughter? Which is it, Flim? Either way, you'll be losing part of your family---and, ha ha, you have so pitifully little of it to begin with!"

Flim opened his mouth, but closed it quickly. This ‘Discord’ he’d dreamed up hadn’t mentioned the mare---Connie’s only friend---whom he considered to be an honourary aunt. He licked his lips. An idea was germinating in his head; although Discord seemed to be able to read some of his thoughts, he could feel, in some incorporeal way, that there was a wall in his mind he could hide behind. Only his immediate thoughts had been accessible to this monster---otherwise, he could have easily summoned some of his deeper fears and insecurities just to toy with him. He had made a bedwetting joke, but that could have just been borne of convenience...

Flim swallowed. He’d have to give it a shot. “So... even though you’re taking delight in my predicament, I’m going to go out on a limb and say that it seems like you think one choice is better than the other.”

Discord polished his talons on his chest. “I may, of course, be biased in the matter.”

No shit. For the first time, he forced himself to stare Discord in the eyes for longer than a few seconds. The wall was in place. “I’ve made up my mind.”

“And what are you going to do, then?”

With a shy gesture, he beckoned him closer. Although Discord’s eyebrows furrowed a bit, he took the bait, and tilted his head forward---but wasn’t quite fast enough to pull away before Flim’s fist caught his cheekbone in a solid left hook, sending him flying across the room. “WAUGH!!”

“Hyah!” Flim cried out in triumph, shaking his aching hoof. “Take that, you monstrosity!”

From his sprawled-out position on the floor, Discord peeked at his captive from between his hind legs, swishing his paw around his head to scatter the tweeting birds flying around his temples. "Oh no no no no NO. You did not just do that!" he cried as he rubbed his sore cheek. "I invented the sucker punch!!"

The hackles on the back of his neck were bristling up, and Flim ground his teeth, riding up on his knees. "Fuck you! Get out of my room! Get out of my head, you fucking abomination!"

"You little shit!" He seized Flim by the shoulders and yanked him into the air, rattling his head around. "I came here for a reason, and I don't usually offer ponies that kind of courtesy! The least you could do is listen to me!"

"I have been listening to you," he said through a pained expression.

"I thought you'd be clever enough to read between the lines, but apparently you're just as stupid as the rest of them!"

"Discord?"

"It's Mister Discord to you!"

"...Could you please take your claws out of my shoulder?"

He glanced to his right, and actually gasped. Without any conscious thought on his part, the retractable claws on his lion-appendage had shot out. That only happened when he let his temper get the best of him.

Quickly hiding the look of surprise on his face, he slid them back into their sheaths, letting Flim flop to the floor in the process. "You know, I really don't have time for your shenanigans."

"My shenanigans?!"

"And your daughter's running out of time, too."

Flim looked up from his wounded shoulder, but obscuring Discord's face was what looked like a screen, although it was rippling around the edges. Projected on it in black and white was Applejack, who was lying on her back in the hay. He could only see her from the chest up; her sweaty face was contorted in agony, and she kept opening her mouth in silent screams. She was frantically clutching a hoof, its knobby shape suggesting it was Granny's.

"The baby's coming early. Dangerously early, in fact," he said as he peeked his head over the image. "Applejack's planning on giving birth in that barn---tradition, you know---and a premature foal won't stand a chance, not out in that cold, not without medical attention."

"This... doesn't make any sense," Flim said helplessly. The image of Applejack in labour was making his heart hurt, but he couldn't look away. "Why do I have to tell her? Wouldn't her family rush her to the hospital as soon as she felt the contractions come early? Why---"

Talons pinched his lips shut. "It will all make sense in time. This is something you have to---oops!"

Discord was wiggling his paw in front of his face, and they both seemed equally surprised that it was now translucent. In fact, it was rapidly fading into invisibility.

"Well, speaking of time, it looks like mine's up. You'd better get your shit together, Flim Skim, because when you wake up you'll be in a lot of hot water."

The last thing he heard before Discord vanished was "Strike that---cold water."

Usually the transition from dream to reality came slowly, but this time it felt like a sharp snap, right from that sweat-soaked bed into...

"Whur...?"

Flim smacked his lips a few times and tried to move his head, which made the whole room lurch to the side. He was in a bathtub half-full of icy water---that much he could tell, but he had no idea when or where he was. His knees were quivering so hard they were slamming into each other, and he dreamily tilted his head downward. Sweet Celestia, what the fuck?! It looked like he had seven legs.

"You're awake?!"

Ah. That voice he'd recognize anywhere. The muscles in Flim's face contorted as he tried to smile; he could make out the shape of his twin, but was having trouble figuring out how far away he was. Or how many of them there were. He'd see a fuzzy image of the stallion in front of him for a second, and then it would dissolve back into cream-coloured blurs. He felt like he was in a kaleidoscope.

"Wha... who... how...?"

"Stop! Don't talk," he barked. He was rustling with something, but Flim couldn't even begin to guess at what it was. "You need to save your energy."

He tried to scream when his brother dumped a bucket of ice in the tub, but his throat was so raggedly dry all that came out was a gasp. "Wha...? Ice...? Are... are'y'gon' take my kidneys 'r shomethin'?"

"I said don't talk."

"Wha' hap...pin...?"

A glass of cool juice was shoved at his lips, and Flim gulped down as much as he could.

"You have a fever of a hundred and seven oh five."

"A hunnert an’ seben?"

"Point five," Flam said as he emptied a bottle of rubbing alcohol into the tub.

"Thass... imposs..."

"I checked it three times. It went up every time!"

He coughed. His muscles were beginning to twitch. "Wh... Discord..."

That caught Flam's attention, but only for a moment. "Great. Now you're hallucinating."

"No, he... came... told me..."

"Stop talking!" He dunked a washcloth into the icy water, and then brought it up to rub over his brother's face. "Now, please. Listen to me. You have to stop babbling. You must have had a terrible fever dream, but that's all it was. I have to keep you stable until Trixie gets back with the doctor."

As if on cue, the sound of the front door banging open cut off his next sentence, and Flam yelled "He's in here!" over his shoulder.

Just a fever dream... he thought, wrapping his arms around himself to try to quell the shivering. I can't believe I actually---

That train of thought didn't get a chance to finish. His fetlocks brushed against his shoulder, and he felt the stinging pain of a fresh wound being disturbed. He wasn't aware of the medics rushing in around him, because all he could look at were those strange, bloodless punctures in his skin---right where Discord had clawed him.

He's Not Heavy, He's My Brother

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He awoke to all-too-familiar surroundings. The soapy scent, the crisp, off-white walls, and the humming of machines---he recognized them immediately. A hospital, he thought groggily. I’m in a fucking hospital. I just got out of a hospital, dammit!

The first time he’d regained consciousness in a hospital room, Flim had been seven years old, and in his initial confusion he’d assumed he was dead---either in limbo, or in Heaven. (He’d only later realized how optimistic that guess had been.) This time, however, instead of the angelic face of a nurse hovering over him, he saw his brother. And he could see him clearly---gone were the hot, staticky-bright swirls of colour brought on from the sickness. His fever must have broken.

Flam’s weary smile brightened a bit when he saw Flim’s eyes open, and he playfully prodded at his cheek. “We have to stop meeting like this.”

Flim chuckled, nodding upwards as he felt his twin’s hooftip brush through his sweaty curls---that sweet little gesture they’d started long ago. “Refresh my memory,” he croaked through a cotton-ball throat. “How many times have you saved my ass, now?”

“It doesn’t matter. You’d do the same for me,” he replied.

In his peripheral vision, he noticed somepony else in the room. Flim groaned quietly; he didn’t have to turn to know who it was. “Hello, Trixie.”

“You scared us half to death!” she shrieked. “Do you have any idea what state your brother was in after he went to see you?! He was ready to---"

“Come now, sugarplum.” Flam placed a hoof on her knee, and although she was still bristling, she didn’t jump out of the chair like she clearly wanted to. “Let’s give him some space.”

Flim tried to cross his forelegs and hissed; now he had bruises in both elbows. They must have recently removed another I.V. The hospital gown was still sticking to him, and it had some salty sweat stains, but it was impossible to tell how old they were. He’d just awoken from a deep and mercifully dreamless sleep---for all he knew, he could have been in a coma. “How long have I been in here?”

Flam tried to kiss his fiancee’s temple, and managed to mask the concern when she sharply turned her head away. “Just overnight. They got your temperature down shortly after you were checked in.”

“Oh, good.” He had to shuffle his hindlegs around to sit up. “I can’t be in here too long. She---she’s running out of time.”

“Who is?”

When he noticed Flam and Trixie exchanging a quick, worried glance, he couldn’t help but sigh. Explaining this was not going to be easy. “The baby. The baby’s coming early.”

“Now, brother, you don’t know that---"

“Yes, I do!” he snapped, louder than he’d intended. “Discord said so!”

“Well, he’s clearly still delirious,” Trixie muttered with a little sneer. She’d twisted herself around on her chair so that she didn’t have to face either of them.

“Listen, okay? Just listen, both of you.” Knowing that Trixie was deep in a sulk, he decided to address Flam instead, taking his hooves in a tight grip. “The minute I get out of here, I need to go back to Ponyville.”

He grunted in frustration when Flam tried to press his frog to his forehead. “I mean it, brother! My fever’s broken now. I’m completely compos mentis.”

“He says he’s not crazy, and yet he wants to go to Ponyville. Am I the only one who sees the contradiction there?”

“Trixie, please.” Flam carefully eyed his brother’s face. While he looked like something the cat drug in, ate, and then puked back up, there was a certain firmness to his words, and a steely look about him that seemed so unlike the feverish bundle he’d helped into the ambulance just the other night. As much as he wanted to feel his temperature, he let his hooves fall back to the bed. “You need to stay in here at least another few days, just so they can make sure you’ve stabilized. You’re in no shape to go running off now.”

“Okay, okay, fine. A few more days. But that’s all I can afford right now!”

“Flim...” He squeezed his hooves. “Brother. If you can look me in the eye and tell me you’re not ranting and raving anymore, I’ll believe you. But you were saying some very... strange things just a little while ago.”

“It may have seemed strange to you, Flam, but it’s all true!”

Suddenly Trixie cut in: “You said Discord himself came to visit you. Do you really expect us to swallow that tripe?”

Flim bared his teeth. “Considering how much shit you spew, Trixie, I’d think tripe would be the least filthy thing in your mouth!”

“Stop it, both of you!” Flam had risen to his hooves, rubbing behind his ears. “Please,” he added in a quieter voice as he stared down at the floor, “I don’t want to be caught between you. Don’t put me in that position.”

“He’s the one you should be scolding,” Trixie sniffed. “He’s frothing at the mouth about some hallucination he had, and you’re actually taking him seriously?”

“Oh, you think it was just a hallucination?” he said as he reared up on the mattress, yanking the sleeve of his gown up to the shoulder. “Can a hallucination do this?!”

Flim’s eyes flicked back and forth between his brother and sister-in-law, and noted with some satisfaction that the latter looked gobsmacked.

“You... you must have fallen,” Flam finally said.

Trixie cleared her throat. “He could have done that when he was thrashing around.”

“With what? Do you think I’d do this to myself? And what do you think I could have fallen on, brother? My collection of lion paws?!”

“Flim,” he said as gently as he could, “If you want us to believe you’re not, er, mentally imbalanced anymore, it would help if you weren’t....” He pulled his lower lip against his teeth as he tried to find the right term.

Trixie found it first: “Babbling maniacally.”

“Okay, okay, okay.” He closed his eyes, counted to fifty in prime numbers, and then turned back to them. It had taken a few moments, but it had at least calmed him a bit. “Please, listen to me. And I want you both to look very closely at this wound.” Screwing his body around, he rolled his shoulder forward so they could get a better look. The claw-marks had seemed huge and gaping when they first appeared, but now, a mere day later, they’d retreated to little scabbed holes. “You know that this wasn’t here two days ago, and you know that I cannot heal this quickly. Now, did either of you see me bleeding from this shoulder yesterday? Are there blood stains on my gown?”

“No, and no,” Flam said. His eyes hadn’t left the weird puncture-pattern.

“Then why can’t I get a couple of unicorns to concede that, oh, I don’t know, sometimes magic happens?”

“And what happens when you get back to Mudponyville, hm?”

“Trixie!”

“Trixie will tell you what,” she said as she finally made eye contact with Flim. “You’ll try to go win back that insufferable mare---Celestia knows why---and you’ll get your ass handed to you on a silver platter for your trouble!”

“I’m not.... trying to win her back,” he said, surprised at how unsure he sounded. “I’m just going to warn her about the foal. That’s---that’s all, I swear.”

Though he was staring at his lap, he could see Flam yank Trixie closer out of the corner of his eye. Some words were hissed in her ear, and a ripple of emotions went across her face. It looked like she’d gone through three of the seven deadly sins in the span of a few seconds.

“Fine!” she spat when Flam released his grip on her elbow. “Trixie will refrain from using that word, and she will give you two little lovebirds your much-needed privacy!”

Neither of them watched her stomp off; Flam was looking at his brother, who was looking at the wall. After a moment of silence, Flim finally turned and began with “Can’t you see this is something I nee---"

But Flam’s hooftip was quickly up against his lips. Using a tilt of his head, he made Flim look over to the privacy curtain that separated his bed from the other patients. For somepony who knew her way around stage lighting so well, Trixie apparently hadn’t realized that the bright lights from the makeshift hallway would cast her hovering shadow against the drab green drapery.

Flim just snorted. He knew she’d be eavesdropping, and he couldn’t bring himself to care. “Flam. Brother. This is something I need to do. And...” He picked at his salted gown. “In this state, I am going to need your help.” He craned his head up to give him a steely look. “Can I count on that, Flam?”

His moustache ruffled from side to side, which meant he was alternating gnawing on different lips. It was the only way he could keep himself from that terrible habit of chewing his hooves down to nubbins. “Alright,” he said in a very even, practiced voice. “On one condition.”

“Name it.”

This time Flam put his hooves on Flim’s cheeks, and forced his head around so they were nearly snout-to-snout. His eyebrows were knit. “You tell me, right now, what Connie said to you that made you flip out on her.”

“No.” The refusal, Flam had expected; but the sudden battered look on Flim's face was a surprise. “I told you, and I told her, that I’m never going to tell you.”

“Then you’re going to Ponyville on your own.”

“Flam, I can’t---"

“I gave you a condition, and you failed to meet it. So the deal’s off.”

Rather predictably, Flim pulled a pout. He was blinking rapidly, which Flam knew from experience meant he was trying to bring on those damned crocodile tears. Putting a frog to his neck, he closed his eyes and let out a sigh. “Okay. You want me to open up first? I’ll tell you a secret I’ve never told you before.”

That immediately got Flim’s attention, and he perked right up. “Oh?”

Flam began to fiddle with the loose ends of the undone bowtie he still had hanging around his collar. “Remember when we were seven, and we went to Name Dropper’s sleepover?”

His ears nearly cramped from how fast they folded back. “Yes.”

“And you woke up to everypony laughing at you because you’d wet the bed---"

His teeth grit together when he heard Trixie’s muffled squeal of laughter. “YES, Flam. I definitely remember that.”

“Flim...” He pulled his tie loose and placed it on his lap, idly folding and unfolding it. “I still feel terrible about that.”

“Where are you going with this?”

“You didn’t wet the bed,” Flam said, looking up. “I waited until you fell asleep, and I... er... I pissed on you.”

Flim stared at him for what felt like a minute, although, judging from his heartbeat, it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds. “WHAT?!”

“I was angry at you that day, and that night. You’d cheated to win most of the games, and I let you, but... then everypony started calling me ‘the dumb one’, and you didn’t stand up for me.” He shrugged. “I’m sorry. I was a little colt, and I thought it was funny at the time.”

He could feel the hide on his temples twitching with his pulse. “Do you.... do you have any idea how much torment I went through because of that?!”

“Yes, I do, because you’d come crying to me every recess. And, as I said, I truly regret what I did.”

Flim huffed and folded his forelegs, trying to ignore the stinging of the bruises in the crooks. “Really. That’s what you wanted to tell me?”

“Yes, Flim. And I’m sorry.”

“You know, when you mentioned a secret, I thought it was going to be something more serious than a colthood prank.”

“Why?” he said with what sounded like genuine innocence. “What other skeletons would I have in my closet?”

“You never, ever told me about the time you tried to kill yourself, Flam,” he murmured with a deafening flatness.

Trixie gasped, and her shadow flickered as she moved, as if to run back in the room. She stopped just before the part in the curtains, and peeked in, looking up at Flim with worry. He smirked. Good! If I don’t let Flam know you blabbed, I’ll have something I can hold over your annoying little blueberry head for years.

After jolting back in his chair, Flam managed to stutter “Wh-How d-do you know about that?”

“Flam, ponies walk on bridges. They see things, and they talk,” he said darkly. Flam sagged, and when he covered his eyes, Flim pointed to Trixie, then back at himself, raising his eyebrows. She bit her lip and nodded meekly. I owe you one.

“I didn’t want to burden you with that...” he began, lamely.

“And I don’t want to burden you with what Connie told me!”

“Well...” He leaned forward. “Don’t you think that burden might be lighter if it’s on two backs instead of one?”

“It’s too heavy for you, Flam.”

And then he cracked a very strange smile. “You’re not heavy. You’re my brother.”

It was Flim’s turn to jump in his seat. They stared at each other, Flam smiling, Flim just stupidly letting his mouth hang open. He suppressed a little hiccup, and then quickly turned.

“Say, Flam,” he began, raising his voice. “Did you hear the rumour that Sapphire Shores is staying just one floor above us? It’s true! She’s even signing autographs when her fans drop in---"

The curtains billowed as a screeching Trixie took off in a mad gallop.

“Hook, line, and fucking sinker,” Flam said, watching with a grin as a couple of unfortunate nurses got bowled over.

“I guess there’s one ‘mud pony’ she doesn’t mind being around.”

“Trixie told me she's actually a unicorn, but her horn is hidden in her---"

“Shut up,” he said amiably. “We can talk pop culture later. Flam...”

Turning---and wincing when his new stitches squeezed in protest---he tilted his head towards his twin, and gently touched the tips of their horns, a tiny green spark jumping between them. “You really want to know?”

“Yes.”

“You’re sure about this? This is something you really want me to share with you?”

Despite what they led others to believe, they couldn’t actually communicate telepathically with each other. When they touched horns, however, they could briefly feel each other’s emotions (leading Connie to sneer that they were part-changeling), and now, from his head on downward, Flim absorbed Flam’s eagerness, fluttering with nervousness. Yes, he was sure, and he was ready.

“Okay,” he said, pulling back. “You know how Connie said she was thrown from a moving cart and got a gash on her belly...?”

Applejack shook the snow from her hat, smiling as the warmth from inside the house tingled on her cold cheeks. The crock pot had been simmering all day, and the delicious smells of cinnamon and butternut squash had imbued the room. “Howdy, everypony! Am I late?”

“Not at all!” Granny replied as she lifted the lid to check the stew. “We got another twenty minutes before dinner.”

“Can’t be soon enough! I’m hungrier’n a tick on a vampire!” She gave her grandmother a peck on the cheek.

“Why dontcha go warm yerself by the fire? Yer brother’s been stirrin’ up a pot of hot apple cider.”

“Aw, Granny! I can’t---"

“It’s the family-friendly kind,” she said with a wink. “Otherwise, I woulda been worried when I saw him servin’ some to Apple Bloom!”

“Oh, that’s a relief!” Applejack began a quick trot to the family room. Although she would have loved a stiff, frothy hard cider right now, mulled apple juice was almost as good. Her throat was dry from the whipping winter wind.

In front of a crackling fire, Apple Bloom was perched on Big Mac’s back, cradling a mug and telling him about the snowball fight she’d had after school. She was building up to an apparently exciting part---something involving the infiltration of a snow fort---when she noticed her sister in the doorway, and went bounding up to her. “Hey, Applejack! You look half-frozen!”

“Yup. That cider sure smells nice.” She gave her sister a boost back onto Big Mac’s shoulders and took her place beside them. It was so nice that they could finally do this again, just sit together as a family without some fight breaking out. The past few months had been smooth as butter.

“After dinner, we’re gonna roast marshmallows!” Apple Bloom said, and Applejack hid her smile behind a hoof when she saw how her sister’s eyes were gleaming. With all that she’d been through, she sometimes yearned to again be so innocent that the prospect of burnt candy could get her excited.

Big MacIntosh had been reaching for the ladle to serve her a mug, but he paused before grabbing it with his mouth. “Uh, AJ.... mail came.”

Her heart sunk. She knew what that meant. Sighing, she looked over her shoulder and, sure enough, a small package was sitting on the table behind them. Roughly once a month, Flim would send them. It was thoughtful, she had to admit, but each time she opened them, it felt like she was defusing a mail bomb. She didn’t know why, exactly, his packages made her feel so fluttery, but her heart was always pounding when she did so.

“Leave it,” she said, and her brother nodded. She already knew what would be in it, and it could wait. Every package had contained a small bag of bits, some item for the baby, and a letter. Those always went straight into the fire. At first she’d refused to take Flim’s probably dirty money, but after a gentle talk with Granny, she’d been convinced to open a trust fund for the little one. If she recalled correctly, it now had a whopping eighty-nine bits in it. Still... better than nothing.

“Why dontcha ever read the letters?”

“Because, for the hundredth time, Apple Bloom, I’m not interested in what he’s got to say,” she said crossly.

“But what if he’s got somethin’ important to say? What if---"

“Hey!” She held her hoof up. “You want yer marshmallow privileges revoked, missy?”

Apple Bloom recoiled at the horrible threat. “N-no!”

“Then don’t question yer elder ponies! Those packages are addressed to me, so I get to decide what happens to ‘em, got it?”

“So...” She began swinging her legs, and Big Mac playfully grabbed at one of them. “If Flim sent one with my name on it, I could open it?”

“Uh... I s’pose so.” Her little sister’s cunningness was starting to unnerve her. It wasn’t that she was manipulative, but she was already at that age where she felt the need to question the proper order of everything around her. Just yesterday she’d asked if she could marry Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo! Applejack shuddered at the memory. That had been an awkward conversation for sure. “But he won’t, an’ you can’t write him, neither. That's inappropriate.”

“Oh...” she said, deflated.

Big Mac, sensing the need to deflect the course of the conversation, offered a rare interjection: “Might wanna check yer room, AJ. Thought I heard somethin’ bangin’ against the window.”

She got to her hooves slowly. “Uh, okay.” That was strange... she hoped it wasn’t that damned bird again. Seeing it once was bad enough.

She went up the stairs, Apple Bloom’s second half of the snowball story trailing after her. She was glad at least that her brother had respected her privacy enough not to snoop in her room while she was out---apparently, while he was repairing her broken door several months ago, Granny had sat beside him, scolding him on how ungentlecoltly it was to barge in on a mare’s ‘private affairs’. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe Rainbow Dash had dropped by, and left when she saw the empty room. Maybe their mailmare had gone a little off-course, yet again. Maybe---

Her thin lips pulled into a frown when she opened her door. Or maybe there was a note stuck under her window!

He was standing there, hovering behind the barn, the cold wind flowing his mane around his ears. When he heard her approaching, Flim’s ears perked up, and he turned to her, his face breaking out in a grin. “Applejack!”

Celestia, she couldn’t believe it. He actually had the nerve to not only come back, but almost outright demand that she come meet him! Unbelievable! Just as unbelievable as the fact that his smile made her want to burst into tears and melt at the same time. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t punch yer teeth right down yer throat!” she snarled as she approached, her heavy hoofsteps crunching into the snow.

He held a hoof up, but it was shaking. “Applejack, just listen. Listen to me. I wouldn’t come back here unless it was something serious.”

“Well---okay,” she said uneasily, her hoof balancing an inch above the snowy ground. “You got somethin’ to say t’me?”

“Yes, and, and, please listen.” He had sat back on his haunches if only to place both his forehooves together in the prayer position. She’d never seen him do that before, not even when Granny was murmuring Celestia’s holy name at the dinner table. “Please listen to me. I know you haven’t been reading my letters.”

Applejack looked him up and down, trying not to let that startle her. Although he was wrapped in a shoddy old coat and scarf, he looked somehow frail, as if the next stiff breeze could bowl him over. He’d never been robust, but there were greyish rings around his eyes that hinted at sickness. The snow was blowing between them, from time to time obscuring his face, so she gingerly stepped around the slick patch of black ice that had formed under the barn’s north eavestroughs. “Talk.”

He drew in a breath, and then let it out as he spoke, his words clipped: “Please get yourself to a hospital as soon as you can. The baby is in serious danger.”

The sheer horror of that made her voice gurgle with the sting in her throat: “That’s not funny.”

“I know it’s not! Do you see me laughing?” he said. “But you have to believe me! That baby’s coming early.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Really.”

“Yes, really! She’s going to be a preemie. And you have to get her to a hospital as soon as possible.”

Applejack could feel her brother’s superstitious nature crawling over her like a swarm of ants, and she shivered. She still couldn’t shake the image of that black-feathered bird tapping on the nursery window... “Why are you really here?”

“I told you!” he said, and his usual tenor was pinching up the vocal range, making him almost sound like a frightened little colt. “I had a vision, sweetheart---"

“DON’T YOU CALL ME THAT!”

Her own roar made them both flinch, and she was surprised at the intensity of it. Not her voice, but of the stinging pain that word seemed to lash against her heart. She had to choke a bit before she was able to speak again. “Flim, you... you think you can jes’ come back here an’ tell me some voodoo bullshit about ou---" Her choice of words changed halfway through. “MY baby? You think I’m-a fall fer that kinda thing, after yer sister pulled it on me?”

“No, no, this is true! Discord himself came to speak with me!”

“Go to HELL!” she screamed, scuffing around on the spot.

“Applejack, it’s true! Listen to me!”

“NO!” As she turned to leave, the tears were stinging so hard in her eyes she didn’t even bother to look where she was going. So she didn’t feel the snow skiff away from under her hooves---and she didn’t feel the slick bite of ice until her front hooves were skittering back against it.

Flim tried to lunge forward. “Applejack!”

But it was too late; she’d already slipped, her legs shooting out from under her. Her scream seemed dim in her ears---because when she landed, it was with a horrible, sick CRACK straight down, her belly smashing against the frozen ground.

“Oh, Celestia,” Flim whimpered.

Applejack tried to move, tried to struggle, but she could tell something was wrong. When she’d slammed down, she’d felt the foal bounce up from her navel to her spine, but... but... but something was wrong. She shouldn’t be struggling like this. She shouldn’t be feeling her belly lurch around. She.... her back legs shouldn’t be cramping so terribly.

She shouldn’t be feeling a searing hot gush of liquid trickling down her thighs.

Again, she tried to right herself, but something horrible seized her from behind, and every muscle in her lower body squeezed. Another wet burst shot forth.

“H-h-help,” she stammered, her eyes glazed straight ahead. Her cunt was on fire, and it felt like her cervix was clamping down on a knife, and she could feel shreds of something sickeningly moist sliding out, inch by inch. It felt like wet tissue paper, slicing and shredding as it pushed its way out.

“Get up!” Flim said, right behind her, his magic hauling her up. “Please, stand up! We have to get you inside!”

Red Bag

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Granny had just begun to ladle out the stew when the front door opened, and she looked up with an expectant smile---one that quickly dissolved when she saw Applejack, eyes wild and hysterical, sagging her weight against... him.

Big MacIntosh rose, scratching his chair against the floor. “WHAT in the---”

“She fell!” Flim blurted as he did his best to heft her over the threshold. His magic was fumbling around her knees, urging them forward, but his horn kept crackling and sputtering in his panic. “She fell on the ice!”

“H-he ain’t lyin’,” she stuttered as she stumbled forward. Behind her came a few faltering spurts, and Flim finally managed to close the door on the blowing winds on the fourth try. She tried to say something else, but the first sound from her mouth pulled out into a long, wailing moan when a cramp rippled up from the dock of her tail.

Flim tried, and failed, to keep her from slumping face-first onto the floor. “She fell on the ice. We, we need to get her help!”

Apple Bloom was dancing from one hoof to another. “Granny, what’s happenin’?”

Granny didn’t reply. She moved faster than anypony watching could believe, and knelt down by her granddaughter’s side, one forehoof holding the trembling chin off the floor, the other carefully moving back and forth across the side of her belly. “Mm-hm. Up you get,” she said matter-of-factly, but her eyes belied concern. “You.” That was addressed to Flim, although she wasn’t looking at him. “Getcher magic up an’ around her, but don’t you squeeze her or nothin’. Get her into the living room.”

He did as he told, as best he could; the green swirls around her gaskins did help them bend enough to help her rise, but they were flickering like strobe lights. “We have to get help! We have to get her to the hospital!”

“Apple Bloom, go to the laundry room n’ get some a’the clean rags. Scoot, now,” Granny said as Applejack staggered herself up to the couch. Her legs were splayed stiffly out from her body as she rolled onto the cushions, and she squealed when another tremor sent a visible ripple up her gut.

Big MacIntosh tried to step forward, but he stilled when Granny held up a hoof. Applejack was suffering through a full-body quiver, and under her choked sobs there came a soft, squelching sound. When she opened her eyes, they were strained and bleary. “Granny, it hurts! Please,” she hissed. “It hurts!”

“I know, honey, I know,” she murmured, not waiting until the youngest Apple had left before hefting up one of Applejack’s hindlegs and gently tucking her tail out of the way. “An’ it’s gonna get worse before it gets better. You gotta be brave, now.”

“Are you deaf?! We need to get help!” Flim cried between quick, nervous snorts. “I-I know it’s at least twenty minutes into town, but---” His eyes lit up and he nearly threw himself on Big Mac, gripping his shoulders with a startling force. “You! You can run! How quickly can you get to the hospital?”

His lips peeled apart, but he couldn’t answer---the puff of air that left his throat was all that was left of his voice, shrivelled up in fear.

“He c’n make it in ten, fifteen minutes if he really books it,” Granny answered for him, “But that’s time we don’t have.”

“What do you mean?!”

She’d been stooped over, inspecting the source of Applejack’s cramping, and when she lifted her head there was a wide, tight look to her normally sagging eyes. “She’s presentin’ alredy. We got a red bag.”

Apple Bloom came tumbling back in, and spat out the mouthful of rags. “What’s that? What's that mean?!”

Granny’s hoof had been positioned to preserve Applejack’s modesty from the stallions; when she withdrew it, they could clearly see something was pouting out from her sex, all wet, diaphanous and veiny. With a shrill little shriek, Applejack kicked her hoof up, her whole lower body seizing.

“It means...” Granny’s voice was husky. “It means we got six minutes.”

After one tentative step forward, Apple Bloom hazarded a glance between her sister’s legs, and jumped back. “Six minutes til what?”

“We got six minutes!” she repeated, and then began gesturing towards Flim. “You go gimme some scissors.”

Call it intuition, call it instinct---he leapt forward blindly, and ducked his head between his lover’s outstretched legs. Before anyone could scold him, or call him back, he’d used the tip of his horn to cut a jagged line through the hot, pulsing sac. Little flecks of liquid speckled against him as he yanked his head away, and a burning wetness gushed out from between her spread thighs. Blood bubbled on his horn when he tried to use his magic, and his eyes widened when he saw exactly what was pouring out of her---threads of cobwebby twill, stretched obscenely around what looked like... something tiny. It was a tiny, twitching crescent.

“Wha---” Although the alarms in his head were blaring so hard he could barely see straight, that little thing wobbling out from Applejack’s sex focused his eyes like lasers. He knew in his gut what it was, but---

Apple Bloom was the first to find her voice and identify what was poking out: “It’s a hoof! Oh my gosh, Granny, it’s a hoof!”

Flim’s knees had been wobbling, on the point of buckling, but for some reason the firm slap on his back brought some strength back to his muscles. Granny kept her hoof there, almost reassuringly, and for a second their eyes locked; in that moment, he could see the fright shimmering there, right before she gave him a simple order: “Pull.”

He nodded dazedly, staring at the nub that was hanging from the shredded tissue. His body seemed to be moving of its own volition; he wasn’t aware of it, just that the gruesome scene in front of him was getting closer, and that Granny had moved in his peripheral vision to hook her elbows around Applejack’s, lowering her head to whisper into her ear. His arm was visibly shaking as he closed the distance. He was numb as his frog pressed against the foal’s---but he jolted, letting out a cry, when the tiny hoof jerked and pushed back against his.

She’s alive! was the lone berserk thought that slammed around in his mind. She’s alive, and she touched me!

Big MacIntosh, who had been staring, dumbfounded, snapped to attention when Granny barked at him “Well don’t jes’ stand there like a jackass! Go fetch some help! Move it, git!”

The screaming whinny he let out as he barreled out the door seemed to carry along the wind. Within moments Flim could see him out the window, huge skiffs of snow blowing around his hooves as he crested the hill. He couldn’t help but vocalize what was on his mind, before he realized how insensitive it sounded: “What if he can’t talk when he gets there?”

“He c’n write,” Granny bit out. “Besides, them folks at the hospital know this family well. If he shows up all flustered an’ stutterin’, they’ll know what’s up.”

Just as he was about to turn back to the little ankle he had gripped tightly between his hooves, something caught his eye again. When he glanced back up, the hairs on the back of his neck bristled---he was face-to-face with a bird-like silhouette.

“Sweet Celestia,” he whispered as it went blowing off into the dark shadows. What in Tartarus was that?!

“No need to crowd, now,” Fluttershy cooed as she flew back and forth, shaking the pellets into the various food dishes. “There’s plenty for everyone.”

The rodents began to tuck into their meal, and her songbirds tweeted merrily as they flitted around. Even though Angel was stomping his foot by the side of his empty bowl, something caught her attention first: Sterling, her stork, was eagerly hopping up and down and clacking his jaws. With a titter, Fluttershy swooped down to pat his head. “There, there. This is your favourite! I bought some fish-flavoured pellets just for you.”

He spread his wide wings, motioning with his head as if he was trying to lift something heavy with his beak.

“I... I’m sorry, Sterling,” she said, trying to read his expression. She felt great sympathy for storks, since they were mute and could only communicate through body language. His was particularly tense. “Is there some reason you’re agitated? Nothing special is happening toni---“

A sudden, harsh rattling at the window made her startle into the air, scattering the kibble across the floor. After taking several long, deep breaths to calm herself, Fluttershy lowered herself to the ground, shaking her wings to her sides to de-fluff her ruffled feathers. “Oh my, who could that be? It sounds important...”

Normally she would gently remind her critters that leaping onto spilled food was impolite, but the rapid-fire tap-tap-tap against the glass sounded quite desperate, and she wasn’t about to let some poor creature suffer out there, not in this kind of cold! Unlatching the windowpane, she eased the shutter open with a creak. Then she beamed at her unexpected visitor.

“Lenore! What a nice surprise! I haven’t seen you in---”

She ducked her head with a tiny ”Eep” when the raven swooped into the room. “I-is something wrong?”

“Awk! Awk Aw-hawk!” She looped around in a figure eight, and then hovered in place, her pinions all splayed out. “Aw-caw!”

“Now, now, please calm down,” Fluttershy said as she closed the window. “Could you say that again? You’re speaking awfully quickly---”

Taking a perch above her chamber door, the bird bobbed her head a few times and let out another series of caws.

“Wh... really?” Fluttershy’s eyes had grown huge. “Are you sure?”

“Awk!” Lenore curved her wingtips together and rocked them back and forth in a cradling gesture. “Awk! Awk! Awk!!”

“HOLY SHIT!”

The wardrobe doors banged open and in a frantic fumble, she flung a scarf on her head and tried to wrap a wool hat around her neck. “Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh!” she squealed, and tossed what was left of the feed bag at her rabbit. “Momma’s going out! Angel, you’re in charge!”

“Ah-AHHH!”

Applejack’s whole face was twisted in pain, a few mucousy tears welling out from her clenched eyelids. “It hur-ur-urrrrts!”

“Y’gotta push, now,” Granny said as she snatched a rag away from Apple Bloom, wiping it under the blonde bangs. “Ain’t no time t’be fussin’! PUSH!”

Flim swallowed down the lump in his throat; despite the heartache that lingered between them, seeing Applejack convulse in anguish was so, so terribly worse than the vision Discord had given him. Again, the tiny hoof jerked around, and the pitifully weak movement snapped him out of whatever reverie he’d been in. His eyelids burnt with water when, out of nowhere, his mother’s voice came ringing through his memories: ”I raised you to be stronger than this, Flim.”

The pain seemed like a distant echo. He felt his resolve hit him square in the chest, and he wrapped his aura around where his hooves were clenched. With a firm, steady heave, he pulled at the leg he had clutched tight.

“I---ayyy-ahh!” Her neck snapped back at what seemed an impossible angle. “He-he-help! Help meeeeee!” The trickles of blood that were streaming from her sex thinned to pink as a spurt of urine joined them. “It hurts so bad! I... I...”

“You can do it, sweetheart!” Flim shouted, pulling at his daughter’s leg. “Come on! Just a few more pushes!”

“I... I...” Her jaw spasmed open, and she began to wail---the purest, most horrible sound he had ever heard come from her throat. “I want my Mamaaa!”

There---the snout. The snout was poking out.

Flim began to furiously wipe the strands of fluid away. He could see it---her perfect, little mouth. The swollen lips. Itty-bitty nostrils, puffing in and out as they sucked for oxygen. Applejack’s bleeding labia splayed open lewdly, and out came the head, the foal’s soft eyelids forced together from the bloating. As her cheekbone flopped down against his fetlocks, Flim gasped, barely registering the shock of wild, matted blue hair that puffed out after. He was cradling her face, staring down at her---at his little filly.

At his quiet, silent, unmoving little filly.

THUNK.

“Whu...?” Twilight hadn’t even realized she’d been falling asleep until the loud sound from the window jostled her back into the land of the living. She lazily lifted her head from her pillow, the page she’d been reading still sticking to her cheek. “What was that?”

THUNK.

There it was again. She carefully peeled page 143 from ‘Comparative Reproductive Biology in Placental Mammalian Species’ from her face and rubbed the bit of drool off the dog-eared corner. “Spike? Did you hear---”

Suddenly, her sleep-weary eyes were covered in a streaking blur of fur and fetlocks. Twilight squawked and waved her ankles in front of her face to clear away the intrusion, tumbling head-over-hooves off the bed with her pegasus friend’s legs tangled up in her own. “Dammit, Rainbow!” she screamed as she shoved the mass of yellow feathers off of her, “I told you to use the door, not the windo---”

Wait a minute. Yellow feathers?

“She’s having the baby!” Fluttershy shrieked from her upside-down position on the floor. “She’s having the baby, SHE’S HAVING---”

“Fluttershy! Fluttershy,” she said, gently turning her around so they could look eye-to-eye. “Hey, now. Take some deep breaths, okay? Just---”

“Applejack is having the baby!” she repeated, although her voice was ebbing back into her usual soft whisper. “Lenore---she’s a raven, you might have met her---she just told me---she, she said she was keeping an eye on Sweet Apple Acres like I’d asked her to, and she saw Applejack go into labour!”

The gravity of that hit her like a sick sock to the stomach. “What, right now?!”

“Yes!”

“But---but---she’s not due for another month and a half!” she said helplessly.

“I know!” In a surprising show of power, she wrapped both forelegs around Twilight’s waist and did her best to hoist her up. “Come on! Rainbow Dash is telling Rarity---”

“What in the name of Celestia is going on in here?!” Spike called through the door---and jumped, cat-like, out of the way as it blew open. He had to blink a few times before he could fully understand what he was seeing: Fluttershy, her wings blurred from how fast they were flapping, was hauling Twilight down the hallway like a lumbering locomotive.

“Spike!” Twilight hollered over her shoulder. “Scroll! Quill! Hurry!”

She grimaced when she felt a sudden weight tugging on her tail, but she didn’t turn to look back at him. “Wait, Fluttershy! If you’re getting me, and Rainbow’s getting Rarity, who’s going to get Pinkie Pie?”

“She’ll figure it out!”

Her eyes darted to the left. The bowl of frozen cherries was perfectly balanced on top of the wooden spoon.

To the right, now---the sugar-coated violets were on the spatula.

Between them, a quart of milk and a bowl of vanilla ice cream.

“Yeeeees,” Pinkie said with a slow-spreading smirk. “Zees weel be mah fay-nest cree-ay-shee-on!”

She slammed her hooves on the spatula and the handle of the wooden spoon, and, with impeccable timing, both bowls went soaring into the air; while they reached the apex of their leap, she deftly poured the milk into the ice cream and swirled it around. In the blink of anypony else’s eye, the last two ingredients fell into place just as she reached out and caught the utensils, spinning them around like drumsticks.

“Ta-da!” she crowed in triumph. “The very first do-it-yourself two-second sundae! This is the super-duperest greatest thing I ever---GAH!”

The spoon clattered to the ground as she doubled over, her eyes bulging out with a sudden, stinging pain. “Woo---woo---whoa!” Her hind legs nearly buckled when she felt a stab from the bottom of her gut. Both her ovaries twitched, followed by a spasm of her uterus, finished off by a pinching in her cervix. The whole ordeal left her panting on the floor.

“Whoo-ee, that’s the strongest Pinkie Sense I’ve ever felt!” she chirped as she rolled onto her back to get a better look at her still-rumbling gut. “Haven’t had that one in awhile! I wonder---”

Her mane and ears prickled up like she’d touched a van de Draft generator. “Wait. Ovary twitch, uterus spasm, cervix pinch... That must mean---OH MY GOSH! APPLEJACK’S HAVING THE BABY!”

She’d broken her ankle once. Every muscle inside her had clenched when that had happened, and everything from then on to the hospital had just been a scorching fire in her brain. But this was nothing like it---this pain, this horror, this agony was the worst kind she’d ever felt. I’m going to die, she thought as it split her up between her legs, And if I don’t, I’m going to be disfigured. This is going to break me. It will break me. I am going to brea---

She didn’t have time to think. Her birth canal, stretched so beyond anything she could ever have imagined, was ripping, torn, splicing---and the blast of pain was so searing and white-hot that for some time---some endless, blind stretch of time---she couldn’t see anything but the fireworks of colours behind her clenched eyelids. That was it. The dam of horrid, stank fluids had gone to pieces, and she was gushing in incontinent surges. She’d been broken. Busted open. Split...

And something slid out of her in slick wetness.

"Unnh....?" Applejack lifted her head as best she could, even though her neck felt like rubber. The scene between her legs was straight out of a horror movie: chunks of tissue lying about, and wet, pink, splashes of thinned-out blood everywhere. The hot sting of tears hit her eyes. Look!

Cradled in Flim's arms---and still joined to her by the greyish cord---was the tiniest, wiriest little foal she'd ever seen in her life. She was small, far too small... and she was lying still. Blue hair, she thought dimly. She has... she has blue hair...

“Why ain’t she cryin’?”

Apple Bloom’s voice had cut through the thickness of the silence, but nopony could muster the strength to answer. Flim was staring down at the limp body cradled in his arms, and with a final, silent push, Applejack’s body shuddered, and the foal’s hind hooves slid out.

“Why ain’t she cryin’?!”

Flim put his hooftip to his daughter’s chest and began desperately rubbing up and down. “Breathe,” he whispered.

Although her neck felt like loose jelly, Applejack did her best to look up from the floor; despite the pain, the fear, the humiliation she’d just gone through, something cut right through her when she saw the look on his face. “F-Flim? Why---“

“Breathe,” he said again, his irises shrinking down into his eyeballs. Propping her up on the crook of his elbow, he brought his opposite hoof up to her flaccid neck, tilting her head towards his. “C’mon, baby. Breathe.”

A fragment of membrane slid off her lip, but the tiny body was as still as death.

Apple Bloom’s voice was as shrivelled as it was choked. “G-Granny? What---”

“Breathe!” In one fluid, frantic gesture, Flim threw the foal against his chest, her chin sliding over his shoulder. He began slapping her back. “Breathe, baby girl. C’mon, breathe! C’mon!”

A slight twitch shuddered through her body, and her filmy lips parted, a thin stream of liquid dribbling out down his back. She was motionless.

Applejack choked; something like a dagger was seizing deep in her throat. “Wh-why---?”

Flim slammed the lifeless little body off of his shoulder and down onto his outstretched arm. “Dammit, BREATHE!” His hoof pressed up against her nose, and he bent down, taking a deep breath. Before anyone could ask what he was doing, he sealed his lips against the foal’s, and blew into her mouth.

The tiny ribcage lifted with the force of the air, and slowly deflated when his lips peeled away. Her eyes were still closed.

“Breathe, baby girl, BREATHE!” he shouted, and again, he inhaled. He puffed into her chest, which rose and fell, but she just crumpled back. Inert, unflinching.

“She’s gone,” Granny whispered. Her ancient eyes were brimming.

“NO!”

The frog of his hoof was against her sternum, and he began firmly pumping it up and down. “Dammit,” he screamed as his eyes watered, “Dammit, you fucking stubborn little filly! You’re just like your mother! LISTEN TO ME! Breathe! I’m going to make you breathe if it’s the last thing I d---“

With a wet hiccup, the foal let out a burp. A tiny fleck of mucous was flung from her gullet, and it sprayed across Flim’s cheek. He froze, staring down. Her mouth was open, and it closed for a moment as she drew her breath in, flaring her nostrils for the first time.

Applejack gasped. “OH---!”

Before anyone could speak, the sinewy little limbs twitched up from her barrel, and her head snapped back. Her eyes---the colours of the sunset, just like Apple Bloom’s---opened, and she stared up at her father. He stared back, his mouth agape. First, a barely audible gurgle: “Ehhh....” And then---

The scream was the sweetest thing Applejack had ever heard.

Flim hadn’t bothered to wipe the gunk off his face; he was staring down at the foal, trembling all over, his eyes misting at the corners.

“My... my d-daughter,” he murmured. He tenderly traced his hooftip along her soft, translucent cheek. “My little baby girl...!”

“Waaaah!” She paused to suck at the air, her hooves lurching, and let out another throaty cry. “Waa-aa-aah!!”

The hoof on his shoulder snapped him from his reverie, and with a dim, tear-filled gaze, he forced himself to look over to where Apple Bloom was sitting. She had an inscrutable little smile on her face. “Let them say hi,” she mouthed with a nod of her head.

His motions felt stiff and clumsy as he leaned over Applejack’s prone form, and let his daughter topple from his embrace and down onto her belly with a wet ‘plop’.

When Applejack raised her head from the rug, the first thing she saw were the gold-green eyes staring back at her with all the filmy, unfocused newness of an infant. It was all so fresh, so raw---she could feel the baby’s heartbeat against her underbelly, and their shared pulse coursing through the cord trapped between them. Just like that. It was just like that. Like a razorblade through her heart, she felt her former self shred to pieces, and that was it. She fell in love in an instant, fast and hard, and so full of pure, painful happiness.

“H-h-hi, baby,” she stammered. All those months of fear about her faceless, voiceless little filly... and now they were eye-to-eye. She could barely believe it. The poor little thing was howling her head off.

“Aw, I know, I know,” Granny said as she quickly swaddled the crying infant in rags. “It’s all bright an’ noisy an’ scary out here. But don’t you worry---yer Mama’s right here.”

When the foal tilted her head to the side, Granny tucked the last of the rags between her haunches and turned her around so she was flush with Applejack’s underbelly. “There ya go. You know what to do.”

Before Applejack could ask what was meant by that gesture, little Hesperides wrapped her lips around one of the sticky teats and began to suckle.

“Look,” she hoarsed out with a feeble thrust of her hoof. “Flim, look.”

“She went right for the nipple,” he said, his whole face glowing with pride. “The kid’s a genius!”

After discreetly smearing the tears from the corners of her eyes, Granny gently nudged Applejack’s sweaty shoulder. “Keep her on yer belly an’ roll yerself towards the fire. We gotta keep her warm.”

“What if---”

But she had anticipated his question. “A’course we don’t wanna let her get burnt! You plunk yer hindquarters down between ‘em, and keep the young’un pressed between the two a’yes.”

Gingerly, Flim turned his back to the fire and lay down beside Applejack. He felt like his very soul jumped when his underbelly brushed against the foal’s downy back. He turned his shining eyes up to hers and beamed. “You did it, sweetheart.”

“No,” she said with a crackle in her voice. “We did it.”

Be strong. Be strong. You have to be strong.

It kept hammering away at his brain as Big MacIntosh kept pace with the ambulance. The ponies pulling the loaded carriage were trained runners, but their legs were shorter than his, and even though huge swaths of sweat were frothing off his lips and sides, he easily stayed neck-to-neck with the unicorn whose horn was blaring at top volume. The siren made most ponies dive out of their way, save for a few inconsiderate assholes who cut them off---one even flashed a crude gesture as they went roaring by.

Be strong.

That voice in his head changed from time to time. Usually it was his, but sometimes the timbre changed to that of another stallion’s voice---one he recognized all too well. Sometimes he could hear Ma’s voice ringing out above them both, but the message was always the same: You have to be strong. They need you. They need you to be strong.

Tears were nearly blinding his eyes as he ran. I can’t lose another one, was the thought that kept pounding in his head. I have to do this for AJ. I have to. She... she...

The memories flashed through his mind, and he gritted his teeth. I can’t let her lose another one. The way she lost Mama... The rooftop of Sweet Apple Acres peeked over the horizon, and he gulped his bile back down his throat. AJ was the one who found her. She can’t... she can’t face another loss. Not now.

“We’re T minus thirty seconds!” the head paramedic screamed over the wind. “Everypony at your stations!”

Big MacIntosh barely noticed the door shattering off its hinges as he smashed his way through it. The sight in front of him made his hooves stagger across the tiles of the kitchen floor, and he skidded into place, even as the hospital staff blew by him.

“Applejack,” he said aloud.

Oh, Applejack. Applejack, his baby sister, was lying in a pool of her own viscous fluids, and yet---and yet, dear Celestia, there was a newborn filly lying against her belly. Still caked in the thick, waxy mucous of the womb, she had her little head turned to the side, her muzzle firmly tucked against a teat.

It felt like his heart had seized into a knot and jumped up into his mouth.

“L-look, Mac,” Applejack said weakly. “Look.”

Be strong, the voice in his head admonished him. He didn’t even flinch when Apple Bloom leapt on him and threw her forelegs around his barrel. He couldn’t register what she was saying.

“Look close, Mac!” Applejack said again with a raspy giggle as she stroked her hooftip through his niece’s mane. “She’s got yer big, dumb, goofy jug ears!”

He dropped his head to her side and burst into tears.

Neo-Natal Intensive Care

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The wind gusted in through the door as Cheerilee opened it, and she winced when the cold sting hit her eyes. It took a moment of batting her eyelids before she could clearly make out the figure in her doorway, but its hulking stature gave away who it was. “Oh! Mac! It’s so good to see you!”

The hoof she held on the doorknob hesitated a bit when she saw the look on his face. “Um... is everything okay?”

His eyes just stayed as they were, wide and pink. Rivulets of tears were frosting on his cheeks.

“I... uh...” She bit her lip and tilted her head backwards into the room. “I just put on a pot of mulled wine. Would you...?”

“She had the baby,” he rasped out, his mouth barely moving.

“What?!”

“She h-h-had the ba-ba-baby,” he repeated, and closed his eyes. “She... she’s so small...”

“Mac! Mac,” Cheerilee said in a low voice as she carefully guided her arm around his shoulders, pulling him into the warmth of her kitchen. “Please, come in.”

As the door closed behind him, he plunked his weight down on his haunches, a light shiver running up his spine. “She’s so small I could hold her in one hoof...” He lifted one to his face, and stared down at it as if in a trance. “She...”

The side of her face swept against his, and Cheerilee’s lips were at his ear. “Well, you do have big hooves.”

A little hot fleck trickled off his cheek and onto hers---a tear. “Wait.”

She pulled back, her hooves still on his shoulders, so she could look into his eyes. “It’s only January----wasn’t she due in early March?”

He pressed his lips together, and then parted them: “Yes.”

That made her shiver. ”Yes”? He’d said ”yes”? She’d known him since he was a gangly, near-mute pre-teen, and she had never, ever heard him say that word. Any assertion besides a nod or his usual “eeyup” was.... unheard of.

“Mac... is she... um... okay?”

“She... they...” He didn’t even move as she gently lifted his yoke off his neck. The bristles of his coat around the top edge had nearly frozen, and they made a little hiss as the lacquered wood slid against the grain. “She’s in the hospital. They got her in an incubator.”

Using the distraction of balancing his collar against the base of her coat rack, Cheerliee ducked her frightened look away from him. Of course she remembered the last time they’d both looked down into an incubator---she couldn’t forget, no matter how hard she tried. It was permanently etched into her brain... as was the tiny, heartbreaking snick sound the life support system made when she was forced, finally, to unplug it.

“AJ told me she was born dead.” When she turned back around, he was frantically wiping at his eyes. “She said... she said Flim breathed life back into her....”

“So she is alive?”

“....Eeyup.”

She brought her hoof up to his, and carefully wiped away a tear. “You mean you’re an uncle now, honey?”

She let out an ’oof’ when he threw his forelegs around her and slammed his lips onto hers. Even though his mouth was salty and full of hot breath, he tasted just the way she remembered.

Flim’s pulse was pounding in his throat as he jogged through the hospital halls. Her room was right at the end, and he couldn’t miss it---not only was Applejack’s name on the plaque just outside, but somepony (and he had a pretty good idea of who) had adorned the door with bright clutches of pink balloons. He swallowed, his face tight and cramped with excitement, when he saw the one with ’It’s A Filly!’ in big foil letters. He let his hooftip trace through the protection spell that was quietly crackling around the border to the room. He couldn’t believe it. He was a father. The past half-hour had happened, he was sure of it, and yet it still felt as loose and wobbly as a dream.

He hesitated at the door, but only for a moment. Sure, the room was already crowded, all of Applejack’s close friends clustering around the bed, but... he couldn’t take his eyes off the only pony that mattered right now. Little Hesperides was lying quietly on Mama’s belly, her tiny snout tucked up against the longer neck.

Rarity kept bobbing her head downwards as she bounced on her heels. “Oh, Applejack, darling! Let me hold her!”

“Not... not jes’ yet, Rares,” she murmured in a husky voice, gripping her baby closer. “She needs ta---“

The clop of his hoof again the floor made all their heads swivel up, and while some of them tightened their eyes, one pony in particular had a much more vocal reaction:

“YOU!!”

Flim squeezed his eyes shut, and Rainbow’s snarling face was yanked back just an inch away from his eyelids.

“You jackass!” she screamed, hovering on the spot. If she’d been three inches closer, she would have probably clocked him in the snout. “You think you can just saunter back in here like nothing ev---!”

“Simmer down, sugarcube,” Applejack mumbled, her teeth around Rainbow’s tail. Flim ducked his head and folded his ears back, but the teeth-gnashing pegasus didn’t make another attempt to throw herself against him. Once she was sure Rainbow had calmed down enough to keep her hooves to herself, Applejack let her tail flop from her mouth and added “He jes’ wants to spend some time with his daughter.”

She opened her mouth to say something else, but Twilight quickly stepped in: “She’s right, you know. He should be allowed to see her, too.”

He waited until Rainbow returned to her seat before taking the next few steps forward, and pretended he didn’t see her doing the ’I’m watching you’ gesture in his direction. The back of his throat was flooding with hot spit and his eyes were stinging as he stared at his daughter. So tiny. The swelling and puffiness from her traumatic birth had begun to leave her face, and her features were now clearer; her lips looked like little petals, the lower one softly blowing in and out as she breathed.

He cleared his throat. “May I... may I hold her?”

She glanced at Rarity, who nodded solemnly. Then she turned back to Flim, her face unreadable. “Sit yerself down.”

He grabbed the spare seat and scootched himself up to the side of the bed.

“Take it easy, now,” she said quietly as she scooped the baby up in her hooves. “This is what the nurse called ‘kangaroo care’.”

Before he could ask what that meant, she motioned to his chest. “Take yer shirt off. She needs ta feel yer heartbeat.”

Once his magical aura was done popping at his buttons, Applejack carefully flopped the foal down onto his barrel, her downy little chest flush with his. Flim let out a quiet gasp as his daughter twitched in his grasp, and began to squirm around.

“Y’gotta keep her against her body,” Applejack explained. “She needs t’feel the body heat...”

Almost instinctively, the baby moved her head on top of his heart. It started pounding. Flim pressed his snout against Hesperides’ freshly-washed mane and took a deep whiff; she smelled so sweet and milky, but there was still the faint rancid tang of birth on her. He wished he could bottle that scent and keep it with him forever. “Oh, my little baby girl...”

Rainbow let out a snort, staring at the door. “Huh. Looks like we got another beloved guest.”
“Flam! Brother! Come on in!” he cried. Still cradling the baby with one foreleg, he enthusiastically waved with the other. “Come see your new niece!”

Flam squinted; the room itself looked normal enough, but there was something about the doorway that seemed off. The edges were shimmering like sun-baked sidewalks in the summer heat. His step forward was uncertain, and he quickly yanked his hoof back when it made contact with a film of magic. “What---?”

“Don’t worry about that. It’s just a disinfection barrier to keep the room clean. Come on, come on in!”

After sucking in a breath, he forced himself through the barrier. Although he knew it was incorporeal, it felt almost viscous as it slid over his hide, prickling lightly as each last bit of infectious or dirty material was singed from his coat. When the last trace slid off his tail, he stared at his twin, who was beaming back at him with a smile so wide it almost made him look like he was glowing. One step forward. He ignored the four matching glares (and one adorably stern look) from the mares at Applejack’s bedside, and instead kept his eyes on the pink bundle Flim was holding. Another step. One last one. Why did he feel like he was walking up to the gallows?

Flim hoisted the foal up on his chest, and Flam took his hat off, holding it against his heart. One puffy little eye opened, and after a few gummy blinks, the other followed suit. The emotion that pinched his throat closed he couldn’t quite identify---it was just one big, huge, mixed-up ball of sensation.

“See him?” Flim purred to his daughter. “That’s your uncle Flam.”

For a moment, they were still, eyeing each other---and then her foreleg shot out, the tip of her hoof poking at his moustache. His mouth opened with a quiet “Oh!”

“Ha!” Flim said as he jostled her back up onto his chest. “Look, Flam! She likes you!”

“I---I---!” He pulled back, blinking furiously. He sniffed. He blinked again, and a tear streaked down his face---then he grabbed at his hat, and went staggering out the door. “I---please excuse me!”

Flim chuckled, not turning to watch as Flam ran off. His eyes were still on the foal. “He likes you, too.”

She let out a little gurgle and a hiccup, and turned her head back to nuzzle against his chest, already drifting off to sleep. Even though Flim was staring down at her, he caught a shadow darting away from the doorframe. “Trixie!”

Although all Applejack could do was blink wearily, the rest of her friends were far more vocal when the snub-nosed outline appeared, illuminated in the hallway lights; despite their squawks of protest---and a few blurted expletives---he kept excitedly waving his free foreleg until she took a tentative step into the room. A few strands of her mane crackled up with static electricity as she passed the disinfection barrier, and with as much dignity as she could muster, she raised a shaking forehoof and brushed them back in place. “Yes?”

He waited until the rest of the mares in the room were done their grumbling, and then nodded towards the bundle in his arms. “Come on. You’re needed in here, too... Aunt Trixie.”

Applejack tried to sit bolt upright, but had to settle back to the mattress when her tender abdomen cramped up again. “Aunt Trixie?!”

“Yes, of course!” he said, and held a hoof out to her---the only welcoming gesture in the entire room. “She’s engaged to my brother---that makes her an auntie, now!”

“Oh, how nice.”

Trying to hide her gulp, Trixie demurely trotted forward, never looking anywhere but at the baby’s face. It didn’t matter---even without deigning them eye contact, she could feel six hostile ponies following her every movement. Who cares what you lot think? I cert.... Trixie certainly doesn’t.

She ran her tongue around the inside of her mouth. She’d been expecting to see a plump, giggling, rosy-cheeked foal like in the movies... not this delicate, elfin little thing. It looked like she’d dissolve at the slightest touch.

Flim slowly extended his arms, and Hesperides’ cheek parted from his barrel with a warm ’pop’. “Would you like to hold her?”

Her little “Mm-hm” wasn’t audible, but he still extended his arms, passing the foal towards her. Gingerly, she took her in her embrace, one hoof protectively on the back of her head. Sweet Celestia, she could feel the baby’s fluttering pulse through her frog.

“Look at you,” she murmured. “Look at you, precious.”

Her tiny forelegs reached out, trying to find some warmth. Trixie pulled her up against her chest, still smiling. With just the tip of her hoof, she touched the apex of the nubby horn, which made the baby coo in delight. “You’re a unicorn, just like your favourite auntie.”

If she noticed Applejack bristle, she didn’t let on. “And just like your aunt Trixie, you... you’re doubly blessed. Do you know that, little one?”

Hesperides gasped, lolled her head to the side, and smushed her mouth against Trixie’s barrel. “That’s right, baby. You’ve got a horn, but you’re still half-Earth...”

At that, Applejack jolted, almost knocking herself over the side of the bed. Her nostrils were flaring, ready to snort in indignation. “Trixie, if you dare---!”

“Let me tell you something my mother always told me: you have the blood of two tribes flowing through your veins."

With the rounded end of her snout, she nestled against her charge. “You have the fierce, Nature-bound strength of the Earth ponies, as well as the celestial magic of the unicorns. And with every beat of your heart, that dual magic flows through you.”

The rustling of bedsheets was the only indication of Applejack’s surprise.

After carefully licking her lips, she placed a kiss just below the baby’s horn. “Half-breed. Clay-brain. Bogus-horn.” Still looking down at the dozing child, she added “They’ll say such foul things about you, baby. But none of them are true... having parents of two different tribes isn’t a curse, little one. It’s a blessing.”

Had she been paying attention, she might have noticed how her words made Fluttershy shrink down in her seat. She just pressed on:
“There are bullies out there---just terrible, terrible ponies. They’ll say mean things, and call you a... a mud pony. But nothing anypony can say will take your gift away from you, no matter how many horrid names they call you.” That’s when she kissed her niece’s lips. “And your Aunt Trixie will be here for you, no matter what.”

Flim brushed a hooftip through his mane. “I... Trixie...”

“And if anypony---and I mean anypony---tries to touch you...” she went on, “Your Aunt Trixie will fucking slaughter them.”

That’s when she swivelled on the spot and plunked the baby back onto Flim’s belly. “Now if you’ll excuse Trixie, she has to go console her fiancé.”

They all watched as she slammed the door behind her, rattling the balloons.

“Okaaaaay,” Pinkie finally said. “So... that was weird.”

Pressing her skull against the stone wall, Trixie let out a deep breath and slumped down onto her haunches. She magicked out the pack of smokes that Flim had offered to Flam (the closest thing to cigars he could find), and shook one loose. The cool air of the alleyway warmed with her sigh as she slid the filter between her lips.

“I can’t believe it,” she hissed out through her teeth. “I just... I just told them all I’m a mud-foot.”

You spent your whole life keeping it a secret, and now they all know!

She touched her tongue-tip against the butt. “Well... to Tartarus what those ponies think! I don’t care!”

You should.

“Trixie doesn’t care!”

But the thought was still throbbing in her mind like a pustule. “’Aunt Trixie’.” Her mouth bobbed the cig up and down as she mumbled the words to herself, as if trying them on for size. “‘Aunt Trixie’. Heh.” She lit the tip and pulled back, making the cherry glow. “That’s going to take some getting used to.”

Her ears perked up a bit at the sound of fluttering wings. She didn’t bother to look up, and when she heard a gentle, chuckling voice, she felt her throat seize. Of all the times for some pegasus to scold her---!

“That’s a filthy habit.”

“And why should the great and powerful Trixie listen to you?!” she muttered down into her folded hooves.

“Well... Every cigarette you smoke takes seven minutes off your life.”

“FUCK YOU!” She whipped around, her wet eyes blazing, and bared her teeth. “And fuck everything you stand for, bitch! Trixie might die early, but she will ALWAYS be greater than YOU will EVER b---”

Now, Trixie was not the tallest of ponies, but she had fully expected to be staring into another pony’s eyes when she turned around. She absolutely did not expect to be staring at somepony’s neck. She certainly did not expect to be staring at a long, slender, regal white neck, adorned with a golden necklace.

“Oh, fuck me.”

“...And when you have your monthaversary, and when you say your first word, and when you achieve recognition of object permanence! I’ll throw you a party for each and every one of those things! Ooh! And we can have a potty-training party! I know you’re not ready for that yet---” Pinkie pulled her muzzle away from the baby with a little grimace. “Phew! Certainly not ready for that yet. But I can wait! I’ll plan a super-duper-iffic party for you! I’ll even make a giant marshmallow cake in the shape of a potty, and we’ll---”

The crackle of the magic barrier caught her attention, and she let out a squeak of shock. “Ohmigosh! Princess Celestia!”

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” she said as she shook the last traces of magic loose from her flowing mane. “I came as soon as I could. Twilight, thank you so much for alerting me.”

“Well, I assumed you’d want to know!”

“Oh, my.” She turned her head towards Flim, who now had visible beads of sweat streaming down his face. “Is this the little angel?”

“Y-your Hi-highness,” he stammered, his arms shaking around the baby. “W-would you like to h-hold her, Y-your M-aj---”

Mercifully, she cut him off. “You must be Flim,” she said with a surprising gentleness. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Oh yeah? Didja hear about the time he tried to swindle AJ out of the land you yourself granted her family?”

A little wink was the only indication she gave that she’d heard Rainbow’s snarky comment. “Twilight, I think you should know that your letter, while very much appreciated, wasn’t the only reason I chose to come here today.”

“Really?” she said as she perked up. “Did the Elements of Harmony alert you or something?”

“Not exactly.” She put one jewelled hoof up to the baby’s head, and soothingly petted over her curls. She kept her eyes focused somewhere else---perhaps to avoid watching Flim bobbing his head over and over in a pathetic attempt to bow. “Some time ago, Luna informed that that she’d felt a disturbance in the dreamscape.”

Twilight’s ears twitched. “Really?”

“Yes. She said there was an... intrusion of sorts. Something had ripped the dreamscape open, and left a scar behind.” Her eyes finally drifted back to Flim, and they landed on his bare shoulder. It was subtle, but her lips thinned a bit when she noticed the pink claw-like welts that were left there. “Scars are quite interesting things, you know. They can... tell stories.”

He glanced to Applejack, and she bit her lip.

“Come.” Tracing her feathers over the bed, she motioned for Applejack’s friends to follow her as she headed back out of the room. “We have a lot to discuss... and so do they.”

Twilight was instantly at her side, already chattering about the prospect of the next generation of Elements; while Rarity and Fluttershy trailed behind, quietly giggling to each other, Pinkie went bounding up ahead, once again babbling about the potty-cake (as well as several unfortunate suggestions about the placement of brownies). Only Rainbow hesitated before leaving, and to Flim’s surprise, she actually flashed them both a wide grin before giving a salute.

The door closed, and the quiet tap-tap-tap of hooves making their way down the hall was the only sound for several minutes.

“Applejack?”

“Yeah?”

He looked down at the baby. “Am I going to be banished to the moon?”

She squashed a hoof on her belly so that it didn’t jiggle too much with her laughter. “Nah, probably not. I’d say you got a sixty, maybe seventy-five percent change a’stayin’ here. With us.”

He let out a sigh of relief. “I swear my heart stopped working for a minute there when she walked into the room!”

“Hey, if anypony’s gotta be worried right now, it’s Discord.” Turning to him, she narrowed her eyes and pressed her lips together. “Didja see the face she made when she was talkin’ about it? I’d be surprised if he survives with his balls intact!”

“Speaking of, er, genital injury...” He patted a burp out of the baby, and finally met Applejack’s gaze for longer than a second. “How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

She shifted uncomfortably. “Have y’ever been kicked real hard in the balls?”

“Yes.”

“Have y’ever been so constipated that you became religious fer a moment?”

“I’ve been on painkillers more times than I can count, so, sadly, yes.”

“Think you can multiply both a’those feelin’s by a trillion?”

“I think so.”

She chuckled. “Then you still have no idea what I jes’ been through.”

He smiled, despite the sudden flashback of her stretched, bleeding labia. Ugh! “Well... It was worth it, wasn’t it?”

“Oh yeah,” she whispered, and her bleary eyes misted as she looked down at their child. “Oh yeah.”

“Look at her,” Flim said under his breath. His daughter let a little bubble of snot flare out of her nostril, and then squished her face against his chest, smearing her spit into his coat. “Her eyelashes just go on for miles. And look at these big, pouty lips---She’s gonna be a heartbreaker!”

He traced his hooftip over her floppy ear. “I’ll have to beat the colts away from you with a stick!”

“Or the fillies.”

His head jerked up in surprise.

“Eh-heh.” Applejack tried to shift her position, and grimaced when her still-tender midsection spasmed up. She uncurled her forearm, gazing down at the I.V. that was firmly nestled in the crook of her elbow.

“W-what did you---“

“Who knows?” Applejack said as she patted her daughter’s head. “L’il baby girl might be the kinda filly who brings home a buncha butches.... heh.”

The tickling feeling made Flim glance down, and he saw his foal licking and pawing at his barrel. “Er... She’s doing this thing with her mouth---”

“Give’r here.”

Her smile tugged at the corner of her mouth when she saw him clutch the foal tighter. “I don’t ...” His lower lip was actually trembling. “I don’t want to let her go.”

She tried to laugh, even though every muscle in her belly was still sore, and lowered a hoof to her teats. “Well, unless you think y’can grow a pair, y’ain’t gonna be able t’feed her, Flim.”

“Oh.” He leaned down and smelled her mane again, and then, very reluctantly, pulled her off the warmth of his body. “Here you go.”

The love and care she took when picking Hesperides up was clumsy, unpracticed, and yet it seemed so natural. Knowing her daughter wasn’t yet strong enough to stand, Applejack rolled on her side and presented her teats. As soon as the baby felt the soft flesh against her cheek, she instinctively turned her head and opened her mouth, sealing her lips around the nipple. “Ah!”

“Does it feel different than when I...”

Seeing the look on her face, he quickly dissolved the question. “Never mind, that was inappropriate. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, sugarcube,” she said softly.

He stared at the foal, at the teat that was tugging in and out of her mouth, and at the velvety coat, just over her jaw, that was undulating up and down as she suckled. In the quiet of the room, and over the dripping of Applejack’s I.V., he could hear little slurping noises.

Her earlier comment still seemed to be ringing in his ears. “Did you, er... did you really mean what you said about...?”

“About fillies?” She patted her frog against the diapered rump. “Eeyup.”

Flim wetted his lips. He was trying to speak, but the words weren’t coming out right: “But... you told me that... I mean...”

“Flim.” She put her hoof on his, and after a moment, gave it a squeeze. “This may jes’ be the painkillers talkin’, but... I got a lotta sense knocked inta me some time ago.”

“Do you mean...”

“Don’t get me wrong,” she added before he could finish, her brow creasing a bit, “I ain’t gonna lie an’ tell ya I understand yer... well, the way you swing. Y’stil don’t make sense to me, but... I...”

The sentence petered off, and she closed her eyes. It took quite awhile before she could speak again, but he was more than willing to wait.

“I’m-a be honest with ya,” she said in a quiet breath, and looked him square in the eye. “And with myself. I-I-I’d---I only have so much time on this Earth, Flim, and if given the choice between spendin’ alla my tomorrows gettin’ to understand ya better or bein’ stuck with some straight stallion I don’t care about, well---I’d rather spend it with you.”

He blinked. “Sweetheart, I...”

“Are we interrupting something?”

“F-Flam!” He jostled himself out of the seat and shook his head, trying to dislodge the tears from his eyes. “You came back!”

“Once the coast was clear, yes,” he said warily. Standing a few paces behind him was a very sheepish-looking Trixie. “We saw, er, the royal procession going down the hall, and...”

He didn’t have time to finish his sentence; Flim already had him in a bearhug. “Oh, brother, isn’t it wonderful?! Isn’t she just the most amazing little filly you’ve ever seen in your life?”

“Y-es,” he coughed, placing a hoof on his twin’s forehead. As he pushed him off, he gave a perfunctory nod towards Applejack, and then went back to addressing his brother: “I’ve made some arrangements, since I know you’ll be wanting to stay for a few days. There’s a nice hotel we can---”

“No, Flam.”

He had been adjusting his bowtie, but that made him pause. “What?”

“No, Flam, I’m...” With a glance back at the bed, at his daughter, and at his lover, Flim sucked away the spit in his mouth and finished with “I’m...staying here.”

“For what? A week?”

“For awhile.”

Sitting back, he folded his forelegs and narrowed his eyes. “What’s ‘awhile’?”

“Awhile,” he repeated. After mustering his courage for a moment, he leaned in and pressed his frogs against Flam’s shoulders, only slightly surprised to find them shaking. “I’m a father now, Flam. I have... I have responsibilities.”

“But---”

“Applejack’s lost a lot of blood,” he added, even though he didn’t look back at her. “She won’t be able to work on her farm for at least a few weeks. Maybe more. Her family will need help.”

“Flim, I need you!”

“Not as much as my daughter needs me.”

“But---!”

Applejack lifted her child from her teats and watched, new emotion pinging in her chest, as the twins carefully touched horns, a little green spark running along the tips like a Jacob’s Ladder.

When he pulled back, Flam’s eyes were shimmering. “But... but if you stay here, even if it’s just for a month---who can I sell things with? Who will I travel around with? I’ll be alone!”

“Brother,” he said gently, and nodded towards the mare who was quivering behind him. “You’re never alone anymore.”

Epilogue (with illustration and bonus comic!)

View Online

Connie,

I hope all is well with you. I wanted to let you know that

The slash of the 't’ began to darken, and slowly turned into a black blob as Flim held the quill unsteadily against the paper. He ran his tongue over his teeth, his lips pressed tightly, and then scratched a line through what he’d written.

Mother,

I know exactly what you’d say if I was standing in front of you now. First you’d scold me for not writing to you more often. Then you’d tell me about how well my sister is doing. You’d ask me when I’m planning on settling down. And you’d hint at wanting to hear the pitter-patter of little hoofbeats.

That’s blunt, but I don’t care. That’s what every letter of yours over the past decade has boiled down to, isn’t it? We haven’t seen eye-to-eye for years, and now it’s time for me to start being honest with you---and I’d apprecaite it if you could return the favour. I don’t want to waste any more time, or any more dead trees, exchanging these plesanteries.

First off: I’m engaged to Flam. For real this time. We haven’t picked a date, but I thought you should be the first to know. Second: we need to talk face-to-face. And don’t be coy. You know damn well what we need to talk about. I know you know where he is.

Mother, I know it’s compilcated, but I still love you, and I miss how we used to be. I’ll always be your daughter, but I miss being your friend, too. Please write me back. This may have some spelling mistakes in it, but I’m just writing this as fast as I can and shoving it in an enevlope before I can come to my senses and rip it up like the last three times I tried getting all this down.

Flim and Flam say hi.

Love,

Bea

Connie,

I know it’s hard to keep in touch with us since we’re always travelling, but for the time being I’ll be staying at Sweet Apple Acres in Ponyville. I want you to

Another pause, and another defeated groan. Flim crumpled the paper and added it to the growing pile in and around the trash bin. “This is ridiculous.”

My dearest Princess Twilight,

Thank you so much for your most recent letter. Your concerns are quite understandable, and I hope I can assuage your fears. Yes, Luna and I spoke with Discord about his recent actions, and we both felt he was rather glib in excusing himself of any wrongdoing. He expressed what seemed to be genuine delight that Applejack and Flim are now spending more time together in amiability after what might have been an “irreparable” rift (to use his words, not mine). To summarize a rather lengthy monologue on his part, he stated that every pony is the master of his or her own fate, and that no one can truly predict the future. After some pressing, he did admit that he played a role, however indirect, in Hesperides’ premature birth, but justified it by saying that, essentially, the ends justify the means.

As you may well imagine, that did not sit well with either of us, and when the subject of penance was broached, he did not seem disconcerted---at first. To my surprise, he even offered several suggestions, ranging from the understandable (foalsitting duties) to the ridiculous (something about a nun with a bell). After some conferring, Luna and I decided on a punishment we deemed suitable, and when we informed him of our decision, the look on his face assured me this would be something he would not soon forget.

Please don’t worry about Discord’s welfare, Twilight; I assure you he is in no pain, and he is being very well cared for. Unlike the centuries he spent in stone, he is able to move and even enjoy himself. Since Hesperides was born a month and a half early, I’ve decided that Discord will spend the same amount of time in his current state. Although he cannot speak, I’m fairly certain that he’s already itching to get his powers back. I’m sorry if this letter seems vague; the enclosed photograph should clear things up. (You may want to hang on to it---you never know when you’ll want to embarrass him in the future!)

I look forward to reading your theorem about the societal and magical roles of the next generation of Element bearers. I’m sure Cadence and Shining Armour will be interested as well, especially with their own foal on the way.

Sincerely,

Princess Celestia

Connie,

I’m writing this under duress. The baby’s crying for her favourite toy, and Flam won’t tell me where he’s hidden it until I finish this damned letter.

Yes, the baby’s been born. A couple of months ago, actually. She came early. There’s a story behind that, but I don’t feel like getting into that now. Applejack named her Hesperides Loophole Apple. She thought it would be nice to give the foal my mother’s name. Sure is funny how that worked out.

At least this little foal will always know her father. I have to tip my hat to you, Connie---you really did think of a clever way to keep us from asking about ours. I’d say you covered your ass, but that’s not exactly true in a literal sense, is it?

Now, to the point of this letter: if you want to be a part of this filly’s life, you will tell me and Flam about our father. You owe us that much. If you really feel like racking up some bonus karma, you could tell us about the original Loophole, too. Is she even still alive? And if you have such bad blood with your own mother, why did you hang on to that photo of her for all those years?

Applejack lost a lot of blood during the birth, and since both she and the baby needed a lot of continual medical supervision, I’ve been picking up the slack on the farm. Me, doing farmwork---I can almost see your sneer from here. Believe it or not, it hasn’t killed me yet. I even got a smile out of the big galoot Applejack calls a brother; I can’t say I like him, per se, but he’s growing on me. Especially when he gets tipsy.

I’ll be staying at Sweet Apple Acres for the foreseeable future, but by the time you get this, I’ll be off on a mini-holiday with Applejack. Flam surprised me by offering a little chunk of the bits he’d been squirreling away; he told me that even though he can’t understand what I’m going through, he’s never seen me “glow” like I (apparently) have been lately. We’ll be spending the weekend at a little resort town and, no, I’m not telling you where. Feel free to drop by any time after next Monday.

By the way, Flam has some big news for you. He’ll tell you himself, should he so desire.

Yours truly,

Flim

“So, y’all are sure y’got this?” Applejack said with a grunt as Hez squirmed in her grasp. She was still trying to lunge at the toy windmill Flim was holding just out of range.

“Of course we do.”

“It’ll be a piece of cake,” Flam grinned, grabbing his brother around the neck. As he pulled him into a noogie, he added “If this dumb lunk can handle a foal, so can I!”

“Everything’s written on the sheet I gave ya.” She cleared her throat, surprised at how nervous she felt. She waited until Flim pried himself away with a showy huff, and went back to addressing Flam: “Be sure not to feed her anything weird. She’s only been takin’ in milk an’ a bit of applesauce, so nothin’ too salty or sugary, or else she’ll get sick.”

He nodded, and leaned forward, one foreleg extended. Her heart skittered; she knew what he meant. He was going to take her baby away. The seizing pang in her chest tightened when he bent down and gingerly took the foal from her arms---and she almost started to cry when her daughter pulled a face and began reaching out to her. “Nyahh!”

Flim soothingly patted Applejack’s back as he floated the toy windmill over to his brother. “If she fusses, try to distract her with this. Or give her the stuffed bunny.”

Flam hooked a protective arm around the foal and held her tight against his chest. “I know. I just---YAH!”

“What?!” Applejack was on the tips of her hooves, ready to pounce. “What happened?”

“Oh, nothing much,” Flam murmured as he tilted his head down to look at the foal, who was opening and closing her spit-bubbled lips over the grain of his coat. “She tried to bite me. I think she’s starting to sprout a little fang!”

“Ugh. You got that right,” she muttered, raising a hindleg to rub against her sore teats.

Flim let his eyes flick down to the bag they’d packed earlier. “We gave you the teething rings, right?”

“Oh, pookie, let me hold her!” Trixie cooed. When the baby was passed from him to her, Trixie fumbld a moment before catching Hez’s hindquarters with her magic, prompting a startled cry from Applejack.

“Dammit, Trixie, don’t let her fall!”

“Trixie knows what she’s doing!” she snapped.

Applejack bit her lip when she saw her baby’s head lolling backwards. “An’ keep yer hoof on the back a’her head! Her neck ain’t strong enough yet!”

Clapping the foal against her, she repeated “Trixie said she knows what she’s doing! Leave me alone!”

“I ain’t gonna leave ya alone until I c’n be sure y’ain’t gonna hurt her!”

“Sweetheart, they’ll be fine,” Flim said as he stepped forward, placing a hoof on her shaking shoulder. “Flam and I used to foalsit all the time. He’s good with babies!”

“AND SO AM I!”

Trixie started to pat the baby’s back, since that outburst had startled her into tears. “You think you can just stand there and praise him over me? I know what I’m doing! Pfft, what do stallions know about raising a foal? Mares are the ones who have maternal instinct, and by the time you two get back, this foal won’t want to leave her aunt Trixie! We’re going to bond like nopony’s business, and quite frankly, I’ll probably do a better job taking care of the little ankle-biter than either of you ever---”

“Trixie, relax,” Flam said through gritted teeth.

Flim smirked and bowed to his brother. “Thank you.”

Putting his arm around Trixie’s shoulder, Flam smiled as politely as he could towards Applejack. “You’ll have to excuse her. She always gets a little tetchy when she starts going into heat.”

“I am NOT in HEAT!” By this point, Flam had decided it best to relieve her of her burden, since the baby was wailing. “Honestly, you think it’s at all acceptable to just assume that any time a mare has a legitimate complaint it must mean she’s hormonal? Trixie never goes into heat until at least April!”

Here she paused, her lip stiffening as she was about to complete her thought, but something caught her eye: Flim and Applejack were staring at each other as if she’d just told them she had two heads. “What?”

“Trixie... it is April.”

“No it’s not!”

“Sugarplum, it’s been April for over two weeks now,” Flam said gently, wincing a little as his niece yanked on his moustache. “Remember about two weeks ago when Flim balanced a bucket of water on your door?”

She bristled. He’d even put a sign on her door that said ’There’s a big surprise waiting for you inside!’ “Yes, and?”

“That was April Foal’s Day. Remember?”

“No... no it wasn’t! It’s still March! I should know---my heat cycle is like clockwork! I’m never late! Are you telling me you think you know my body better than I do?!”

“It’s definitely April,” Flim said as he threaded his tail in Applejack’s, grinning a bit when her caught her blush. “But if we stand here and let you bitch for as long as you want, it’ll be May, and we have a train to catch.”

Taking a tentative step towards Flam, Applejack raised her muzzle to press against her daughter’s. She’d been dying for a good night’s sleep, but the thought of being away from this child for longer than a few moments felt like a cluster of razorblades she had to swallow. Parting is such sweet sorrow. Putting her lips to the downy ear, she whispered “You be a good girl fer Mama.”

“She’ll be fine, Applejack,” Flam said. “You and my brother have a lot of catching up to do, and I don’t want anything to get in the way of that.”

“Thank ya kindly,” she said, and, against her better judgement, kissed Flam’s cheek. He flushed with colour, and she smiled, pretending she didn’t notice the indignant hiss of breath Trixie sucked between her teeth. “I know y’all’re gonna take good care a’yer new niece.”

He blustered a bit as he pulled back, and decided to focus on his bowtie (that Hez was rapidly untying) instead of her. “Of course. Just go enjoy your weekend, and don’t worry about a thing.”

“But, but, but if anything does go wrong, you jes’ run over ta Sweet Apple Acres, an’ Granny’ll---”

“Applejack,” Flim said with a chuckle, “The train. Come on, sweetheart.”

Dutifully, Flam held the baby out so she could get goodbye kisses from her parents, and waved as they strode off, keeping as close to one another as they could despite the saddlebags between them. Every now and then Hez would let out a shriek or a cry, and Applejack would whip around, ready to run back... but Flim would gentle her along, patting her back and whispering soothing words into her ear as they made their way to the train station.

“Shh. There, there,” Flam murmured as he did his best to rock her back and forth. The steady diet of milk, formula, and applesauce had certainly plumped the little thing up, but she was still weak and fragile, not even walking properly even though she was almost four months old. He grimaced when he remembered the day he’d had to console his brother after the doctor told them she might need physical therapy down the road. Leaning down, he lightly tapped his snout against hers, making her giggle. So this is a whole new kind of love, he thought. ... and it feels so strange.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you back there, sugarplum,” he said, still looking down at the baby. She seemed to be fascinated by how he could cross his eyes or waggle his tongue around. “I just didn’t want them to miss their train.”

When that was met with silence, he pressed his lips together, steadying himself for a fight. “Trixie?”

He glanced over his shoulder, but the room was empty. He sighed. Trixie had apparently stomped off to lock herself in the hotel bedroom. Fine.

But she wasn’t in a sulk---she was almost in a panic. The first thing she’d done when she got into the bedroom was dig out the pocket calendar that Flam carried around with him. He was very good at ticking off each appointment as he made them, and the dentist’s visit yesterday had a checkmark. She stared at the calendar for nearly a full minute---and every second, her heartbeat got faster. No, they hadn’t been lying to her, and yes, it was actually April.

“This doesn’t make sense!” she whispered as her eyes grew. For over a fortnight now, she’d been having all her pre-heat symptoms: she’d been grouchy, bloated, sore in the teats, and despite feeling queasy, she’d been eating nearly double what she normally did. “Why am I not in heat?!”

Three Steps Back

by SusieBeeca

Growing Pains

Making Amends

Better The Devil You Know [clop]

The Ties That Bind [clop]

Quickening [clop]

Poker Face

Dirty Rotten Scoundrel

Moustache Ride [clop]

Carts Before Horses

Something Borrowed

Trust [clop]

Don't Ask, Don't Tell

Just A Phase [clop]

Blood

Intensive Care

Compromising Position [clop]

Fewer Than Three

Colts Don't Cry

The First One's Free [clop]

Rude Awakening

That's My Girl

Despicable

The Outing

Crossroads

Making Amends... Again

Eligible Bachelors

The Omen

He's Not Heavy, He's My Brother

Red Bag

Neo-Natal Intensive Care

Epilogue (with illustration and bonus comic!)