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// O R A N G E 
// Story: Branching Paths 
// by TCC56 
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"She's just fine."

"If she was fine," Applejack drawled, "She wouldn't be in your hospital."

Dr. Horse adjusted his glasses. "She's going to be just fine," he corrected.

Applejack frowned sharply but held her tongue. Taking this fight further wouldn't actually help anything. 

The doctor continued on, ignoring yet another irate family member in a career full of irate family members. "I'm keeping her here for a day just to observe, but she should be safe to go home tomorrow. Plenty of fluids and rest when she does, plus the cranberry pills - the UTI should clear in a week or so."

Frustrated but lacking a better plan, Applejack nodded. That small surrender was enough for him to leave her alone and continue with his rounds while Applejack went in.

Granny Smith's room was nice - for a hospital. Painted a gentle pastel green not that far off from her own coat, it was dressed up to seem closer to the bedroom of a quaint bed and breakfast rather than one step away from a surgical suite. The only thing that really gave it away - other than the panel of various readouts and doodads - was the smell of scorched earth antibacterials. 

Granny was in the bed, of course. At her age getting out of it would take a little while, and Dr. Horse had only just left her. She was silent as Applejack approached, waiting to let her granddaughter get the first word. 

"Hey, Granny." And those words were hesitant and fearful. 

With an even gaze, Granny Smith looked into Applejack's eyes. "Did you bring the bottle?"

The younger mare's mind skittered to a halt. "...What?" She mentally went through her grandmother's medications rapid-fire, trying to figure out which bottle of pills she had forgotten to bring. 

"The bottle," Granny reiterated. "You're always sayin' Ah'm full of piss and vinegar! Well Ah only got one right now and it ain't like you to leave a job half done - so where's the vinegar bottle?" The old mare broke out out guffaws of laughter.

Fury overwhelmed Applejack's concern for her grandmother's well-being. "Dang it, Granny, this ain't the time for jokes! This coulda been serious!" 

And just like that, Granny's face went straight razor thin. "Want serious, do ya? Hm? Well then, sit."

"Granny, Ah--" 

"Sit," Granny Smith restated, this time far more firmly. 

Applejack sat down in the chair beside the bed. 

"That's better." Granny adjusted herself in the bed, sitting half-up in it. Rather than speak immediately, she closed her eyes and took several long, deep breaths, almost as if in prayer. Just when Applejack was starting to wonder if she'd fallen asleep, Granny started. "It ain't fair, y'know. Had to do this sometime, but it never seemed right. You had to deal with a lotta grief far sooner than you should've - you an' Mac both. Guess it's kinda a blessin' that Bloom was too young to understand it." She snorted a quiet laugh. "Small mercies." 

Applejack shifted uneasily. "Look, Ah can just go get--" 

Her reply was a raised hoof signalling to stop. "This needs to be done, Applejack. Maybe it's better we do this while Ah still got my wits about me. You need this talk." Granny paused to make sure Applejack wasn't going to object again before she continued. "You know death - that's why you don't like facin' it. You're mighty familiar with that hurt and nopony'd blame you for avoiding it. Hit a dog and it'll flinch from your hoof, after all. Anypony that knows what you got put through would understand why you're eager to deny it's a thing. But simple fact is - no pony lives forever." 

"'Cept Princesses," Applejack said reflexively. 

Granny snorted. "There was a time before Princesses, so it stands to reason there's gonna be a time after, too. But Ah ain't no Princess either." A brief wistful look touched her wizened face. "Can't say Ah didn't have a long run anyway. Outlived every one of my generation and a lotta the next. ...Even some parts Ah didn't want to." Her eyes clenched closed. "With Goldie and Grand Pear gone, Ah figure there's not a soul left in Equestria from when I was a little 'un. So maybe my time ain't today - but it's not that far, either."

Uneasily, Applejack shifted in the chair. She wanted to respond, that much was obvious - but so was a lifelong knowledge that when Granny said be quiet, you'd best be quiet and let her talk. The consequences of just a glare from her would freeze an Apple's soul. 

"When my time does come, the Apple clan's gonna have to make a choice about who's gonna lead it along the next generation. Way Ah figure it, there's two directions they can go: you can do it, or they can pick somepony who's gonna spend their whole life trying to live up to you." A small chuckle snuck out of Granny at the last part.

Applejack's snout wrinkled. "That don't make a lick of sense, Granny. Why would anypony do that? There's plenty of Apples out there who're proper capable. Braeburn or Fiddlesticks, for starters. Or Big Mac - he's--"

"Good at business and his family, but he ain't a social sort of pony," Granny pointed out. "They're all good ponies. Whole family's full of 'em. But not a one's you. Applejack, you keep forgettin' that you ain't some background pony. Haven't been for a long time, if ya ever were. Things you've done, places you've seen - you play it down, but most Apples sit on their land and farm it their whole life. You've literally gone past the ends of Equestria, fought gods an' hob-nobbed with enough ponies that you're on a first-name basis with kings and queens." A little smile played over Granny's face. "But you've kept your hooves on the ground, too. Never forgot your roots, never got your eyes stuck on the horizon instead of where your hooves were goin'. You're the best of us, Applejack. Best in generations. Everypony sees that. Ah figure you know it too, even if you don't like to admit it."

Her response was a lame shrug. "Ah guess there's been a few things--" 

"Hush yourself," Granny snapped. "Ah ain't done." She paused to make sure she'd been obeyed before continuing. "Somepony's gonna have to lead the Apples after Ah'm gone. Maybe it's not formal, but every Apple knows who's in charge and who's lead they're followin'. But that's the problem, y'see. If somepony else steps up, they won't be really in charge - because it'll be your lead they're following. Don't think anypony could help but do that. Somethin' goes wrong and their eyes are gonna go straight to the one they trust best. So it's better to cut to the chase."

The room went chill as Granny Smith did something Applejack was wholly unprepared for: she reached up to her neck and undid the knot there. Each small movement of the cloth was done carefully, making sure her granddaughter's watchful eyes caught how to do it back up properly. Then she slowly pulled the orange kerchief from her neck, refolded it just as she had for a century, and held it out to Applejack. 

Her words were simple. "It's yours now."

Applejack took it with reverence, feeling the weight of it in her hooves. Then she unfolded the scrap of cloth and - perfectly mimicking the process in reverse - retied the knot and put the kerchief around her neck. 

Granny pursed her lips. "Orange on orange don't quite look right, but Ah figure that's more a complaint from your Rarity friend."

"Granny, Ah…" Applejack stumbled, grasping at what words would even work for a moment like this. For once, her grandmother was patient and let her take the time. "...Thank you," she finally decided on.

"Ya earned it," was her response. And Granny smiled. "Ah'd say make us proud, but you already did."

Irregardless of her grandmother's fragility, Applejack lunged forward to hug her for all she could muster.