//------------------------------// // Four // Story: In Darkness // by applejackofalltrades //------------------------------// “I look like shit, y’know.”  Spitfire blinked groggily, having been stirred from a dreamless sleep. The upped dosage of sleeping meds made sleep come easy, but at the cost of waking up being difficult and extremely nauseating. As she reoriented herself to the room around her brought to life by an uncharacteristic outburst from Applejack, her stomach turned, but she swallowed the bile that rose in her throat. “Right, bandage removal was today,” she muttered while trying to clear the sleep away from her voice. “Sorry if I woke ya, I just got back and… well, I’m just upset,” Applejack admitted shakily. “I dunno what to do.” “Did they tell you about anything they could do?” Spitfire asked, attempting to shake away the drowsiness. It worked, mostly. The doctors had finally made some semblance of progress on her, if only the removal of magic sensitivity and the new light perception, so she hoped maybe they could do something for Applejack, too. “Other than makin’ sure I don’t get an infection, not really. At least, not right now. They said I can finally move around and stuff on my own as long as I’m careful,” Applejack replied. “Though they mentioned somethin’ about my strength. I dunno, I didn’t really hear any of that.” The sound of hooves hitting the ground prompted Spitfire to look over. She could just barely make out Applejack’s shadow approaching her bed with a sort of uneven gait asif she was limping. The pegasus inched backwards and made room for Applejack to climb on the edge of the mattress. The feeling of another pony near her was nice as always. It was weird to not be the one going to Applejack, though.  “Half of me looks red and wrinkly like a sun-burnt tomato. I’m glad ya can’t see me. ” Spitfire laughed at Applejack’s morbid attempt at humour. “That makes one of us, ‘Jack.” She had often found herself wishing she could actually see Applejack, even despite what the earth pony had to say about that. But whenever she tried to imagine somepony, all she could see was Rainbow Dash beneath her; the last thing she really ever saw. An image burned into her mind. Maybe it was the magic, or maybe it was something else. A frown tugged at her lips. Applejack seemed to have noticed it. Sometimes, Spitfire forgot that Applejack could see her, even if Spitfire couldn’t. “What’s wrong?” Spitfire sighed and rolled over on her stomach, settling her chin between her hooves. “Just thinking about that day. I told you about what happened but… well, the last thing I saw was the pony I failed to protect.” Applejack pressed up closer to Spitfire. The earth pony’s fuzzy coat brushed up against Spitfire’s. The pegasus involuntarily tensed at the sensation. For a moment, she imagined Soarin and how he did that for her on that day, too. Before he disappeared from her life. But Applejack was different; she did not smell like blood, and even after so long in the sharp-smelling hospital, the earth pony still smelled vaguely of spice and fields.  “You ain’t there now,” she added. Her voice was not Soarin’s, either. “I know,” Spitfire groaned, lifting her head and staring at the light above – if only to see something. “I know. But it’s the only thing I can really remember.” The quietness from Applejack was a welcomed fact at that point. It warmed Spitfire, even more so when Applejack pressed a comforting nuzzle against the side of her face. It felt different without those bandages obstructing the fuzziness beneath. Spitfire took it in for as long as she could. She couldn’t even hold back the crooked smile that fell on her face. “It’s alright, sugarcube. I can’t imagine how you’re feeling, but I can try to be there for you, and I promise I’ll be right here like gum on a horseshoe.” Applejack punctuated her statement with a gentle nudge to the pegasus that only made her wince. After Spitfire snorted in amusement, Applejack went on, “Ya can’t get rid of me if you wanted to. I’m like a dog attracted to peanut butter. But regardless, someday, you’ll get outta here, Spitfire,” she said in a way that mimicked a promise.  Spitfire turned to Applejack. She could feel her breathing. “Someday we’ll get out,” she responded. “And when I do, I want you to be the first thing I see, Applejack.” “So they makin’ progress on your vision?” Applejack sounded surprised, but not in a bad way. She had really opened up a lot in the past couple of weeks, and now Spitfire thought she was easier to read.  Spitfire gave a half-shrug-half-nod. “Kind of, I have light and shadow perception now. I can’t see you, but,” she squinted in Applejack’s direction, making out her general blurry shape against the sharp hospital lights, “I can tell you’re there.” She smiled to emphasize her point. “As in I can kind of see your silhouette, except it’s really blurry.” “Well, I hope my silhouette ain’t too bad to look at!” Really, it was just sort of a pony-shaped blob. But that pony-shaped blob was Applejack, and so it seemed a million times better. Spitfire’s lips curled up in a faint smile. “It’s something to look at, at least. I like seeing you there. Or, well, you know. It’s better than nothing.” Applejack nodded briskly. “Yeah, I get what you mean. And… well, I never told you ‘cause I thought it mighta been a bit… disrespectful, but I think you’re mighty good looking.” “What?” Spitfire sputtered and rolled her eyes. “I mean, I know! I get that a lot. Or I did, before everything. Though there were still the occasional pervs in the army—” The earth pony next to her cut her off with another gentle shove. “Hah, relax, sugarcube. I’m just sayin’ it ‘cause it’s true. I was raised to be an honest mare, you see. At least, as much as I can be. Especially if it’s a compliment.”  Honesty? Spitfire had to admire that. She’d been around lots of loyal ponies, ponies like Rainbow Dash and Soarin, but she would be the first to admit that it was hard to always be honest, especially when it was easier to lie for the sake of the mission. Admittances of injury were often rare, though it was obvious to Spitfire when they were present. If Applejack was as honest as she claimed, then it only added to her character. Spitfire still didn’t know much about the mare, but she was sure that she was nothing short of amazing.  “Aw, you ain’t gonna say it back?”  The pegasus couldn’t hold back her grin. She rolled her eyes and looked away from Applejack’s silhouette. “I would, but I don’t know what you look like. I’m sure you are, though. Even without seeing you.” “I’m just teasing.” One of Applejack’s hooves reached up toward her head, though Spitfire couldn’t make out what she was doing. The silence felt heavy between them before Applejack responded, “I ain’t really all that much of a catch.” Spitfire scoffed. “Why do I not believe you? Don’t tell me you’re humble, too. You’ve gotta have some bad qualities!” “I tend to fly off the handle.” “I really don’t believe you.” “I’m just being honest.” “Well… I bet you’re wrong, ‘Jack,” Spitfire assured. There was no way that the pony next to her was anything less than impressive, both inside and out.  Applejack hesitated for a beat. “I’ll tell you what I used to look like if you want.” The sudden lack of joviality in Applejack’s voice made a small pit form in Spitfire’s stomach, but still, she was curious. She simply nodded, letting her eagerness to know anything she could about her roommate taking over.  Applejack shifted in a way that put distance between her and Spitfire. Her foreleg no longer brushed against the pegasus’s. “I’m what you might call your traditional earth pony. Big, though you knew that already, strong, and warm-toned. My mane’s blonde, kinda like hay, and my body’s orange, though it ain’t as bright as you think.” As she spoke, Spitfire tried her best to try to envision Applejack in her mind. It was hard to imagine somepony you’ve never seen, but no matter what shape Applejack took in her imagination, Spitfire would argue that it was great.  “My mom used to tell me that I got eyes like green grassy fields,” Applejack added. “Pools like the plains out back, she used to say. And my dad would say that I’ve got constellations on my face. Though, you see, I only have a few freckles now. Hardly a constellation. I reckon he was just tryna make me feel better ‘bout myself,” she mused with a laugh. That was when Spitfire snapped away any images that she was thinking up. There could be nothing better than what the Applejack in front of her must look like, and there was no reason for the country mare to have to ‘feel better about herself’. Trying to imagine her seemed like a disservice to the mare that kept her company. She shook her head and stared at Applejack, or at least at where she was. “Applejack, I think you’re…”  She knew that Applejack was more than something to look at. She was an actual pony, no matter what she might have looked like in front of her. No matter what, Applejack was nothing short of— “Fantastic,” Spitfire blurted out. She hardened her resolve and nodded firmly to herself. “Yeah, and you know what, ‘Jack? Hearing what you said, I know there’s nothing that can make you less fantastic. No… no burn, or scar, or anything. I don’t want to imagine what you look like. I want to know. Some day, I will.” She leaned in closer to Applejack so that their hooves brushed against each other once more. “I… I’ve been in tough situations. I’ve seen my share of bad shit, and I’ve seen things I would never wish on anypony else to see. “But all of that? The idea of ever laying eyes on something like that again? It’s irrelevant, Applejack, because now it’s my turn to be honest. I can push through all of that because I’m strong. And it isn’t just the medals on my uniform that make me strong, or my training, or my experience. It’s the ponies that surround me that make me strong, and now you’re that pony. The fact is that you’re the thing I want to see most in the world. I know that now, after all this time with you. It feels almost stupid to admit it. I feel like some kind of school-aged, snot-nosed filly for saying it, but it’s true. “It’s been weeks—months—since we’ve been here together, and I had thought that I lost everpony that meant something to me. I didn’t think I could connect with anypony again, not in any way that mattered. I thought I was destined to be the Wonderbolt general that lost it all and lived only to die. But then you came along, ‘Jack, and all of a sudden I… I have someone I care about again.” “You really think that?” came Applejack’s quiet response. The mare never turned her head away from Spitfire. Spitfire furrowed her brow and gave a single firm nod. “Honest.” Applejack let out a stilted breath and finally looked away. She was still for a moment, the only indication of her being there apart from her presence was the quiet breathing. “I wanna show you something.” “Huh?” “Give me your hoof.”  Spitfire nearly recoiled from how sternly Applejack’s demand came. “What?” “I said give me your hoof,” Applejack repeated firmly. Not even the first drill sergeant that Spitfire had the pleasure of meeting came close to exuding the level of command that dripped from Applejack’s voice. Spitfire hesitantly offered her hoof out only for Applejack to immediately take it and guide it up near the side of her face farthest away from Spitfire. It was an awkward position, but Spitfire did not dare try to adjust.  Neither mare said a word when Spitfire’s fetlock made gentle contact with what felt like skin. For a moment, Spitfire was confused, and then her hoof was lead down softly, dragging down that wrinkled, soft feeling. Applejack didn’t even try to hold back the wince. That was when the realization hit her. It was Applejack’s burn. Spitfire tried to recoil her hoof away in fear of somehow harming Applejack, but the earth pony’s grip on her hoof was tight and strong in a show of strength that Spitfire didn’t expect from her. It only served to bring Spitfire closer to her, crashing her hoof into her body in what must have been a painful meeting.  “No, I want you to know,” Applejack hissed through gritted teeth. “I want you to know exactly what it is you wanna see.” She forcefully kept dragging Spitfire’s hoof down her body, pulling the pair into a bastardized version of a hug. Spitfire could only acquiesce and let it happen; she didn’t want to hurt Applejack by trying to resist.  The burnt, tender flesh never stopped.  “This is what you wanna see?” Applejack finally let Spitfire go as she reached as far back as the middle of her body, as far back as Spitfire could reach. She shoved Spitfire’s hoof back to her, and with it, the mare herself. “Like I said earlier, I-I look like shit. Sometimes I wish that the war would last longer than I’ll live, you know. I’m too gosh darn ugly for anything that ain’t factory work, and now… well now there’s no refuting that. I bet I’ll be entirely useless. Can’t even trot around without a limp, can’t hear anypony who ain’t yellin’ at me. I don’t want ya to patronize me!” Applejack fully turned away, breathing heavily. Her voice came out choked, and Spitfire wasn’t sure if it was from some kind of pain or from the effort of holding back the emotion she was doing a poor job of hiding. Spitfire’s hoof lingered next to her and the feel of Applejack’s skin seemed to, as well. Spitfire swallowed and tucked her hoof beneath her body.  “I… I told you it doesn’t matter what you look like,” Spitfire reminded her. It was still true, though she had to admit to herself that feeling Applejack’s injury, the side of her that she never got to feel, was a bit off-putting. But then, why wouldn’t it be? She’d hate to feel anypony’s still-healing wound!  “That’s only what you’re sayin’, but it’ll be a whole different thing if’n ya actually see me,” Applejack shot back, turning once again to stare right at Spitfire, who stood her ground. “You don’t really get it, General. You’re talkin’ up a big game, but y’know what? Ya can’t even see me. Facts are facts.” “Applejack…” “For what it’s worth, I hope you get out, too. For your sake.”  With that, Applejack removed herself from the bed and made her way back to her own cot, leaving the space next to Spitfire warm and empty. The bed creaked as Applejack seemed to throw herself in it. Wordlessly, she flopped back onto the mattress. Spitfire couldn’t even tell which way she was facing. She assumed it was away from her. It had to have been something else, Spitfire thought. Applejack was worked up, and understandably so. It was bandage removal day, and she certainly wasn’t happy. It was like when Rainbow Dash got out after her injury, one wing less than she had had before. The anger and frustration boiled over much too easily, and Spitfire was always the one to take the brunt of most of the blowups. She just wished Applejack hadn’t blown up.  Spitfire dragged her eyes away from the direction of Applejack and centred herself in her own bed. Applejack’s warmth lingered. So too did her pain. The pegasus rubbed her hooves together before burying her face in the pillow. She shut her eyes together tightly, removing any semblance of ambient light from her vision.  If it had been anypony else, Spitfire might have gotten upset at them for yelling at her, but not with Applejack. She couldn’t bring herself to be mad at her. She felt genuinely bad for the mare, but she wasn’t sure what to do. Emotions were never her strong suit after all. The earth pony just needed to cool down.   “Sorry,” Spitfire mumbled to nobody. And nobody responded.