//------------------------------//
// Five 
// Story: In Darkness 
// by applejackofalltrades 
//------------------------------//

Applejack was really good at not talking, it seemed.

Spitfire rubbed her head as she turned to where Applejack’s bed was. The mare was out of the room at a check-up, and yet Spitfire found herself yearning to see her. Or, well, “see” her. She couldn’t get the thought of what she had felt out of her mind for the week since she had been forced to feel it, and the only thing that bothered her about it was how Applejack had reacted.

She would definitely not hold it against her, that was for sure. But it still hurt, and she would admit that despite how selfish it seemed. Spitfire had to make it up to her. Somehow. She wasn’t sure how, but she would think of something. Maybe she could get their dinner brought in earlier, or have them bring an extra pudding cup for Applejack. She knew how much the mare liked that pudding. 

With all the effort she was going to put into it, Spitfire wasn’t exactly sure why she was trying so hard. Sure, she liked Applejack and she didn’t want to lose the friendship that was budding between them. It had been a lonely couple of months, ripped from the field she had formed a complicated relationship and ripped from the caring hooves of her teammates. Her friends.

But with Applejack’s arrival came something new. Something exciting, almost. There was no other way to put it, Applejack made Spitfire happy again. Having the mare there, even just her presence, was enough to make the pegasus smile and look forward to something. She had been wanting to leave ever since she arrived at the hospital, but now she wanted to leave with Applejack at her side. No matter what.

There was nothing that could deter Spitfire from wanting that. Nothing that Applejack could say or think would quell Spitfire’s desire to walk away from it all alongside her new friend. She wanted to be happy, and she wanted Applejack to be happy. Most of all, she wanted to be happy with Applejack.

And yet, the feel of Applejack’s burned skin was something that Spitfire couldn’t get out of her head since she was forced to feel it. Applejack hadn’t been acting quite the same since then; she’d been acting more like she was when she had first arrived. Quiet, giving non-responses, unwilling to talk. 

Spitfire was going to change that. She wanted Applejack to know that she had no reason to feel self-conscious, at least not with her. Love was something she couldn’t think about on the battlefield. It wasn’t even something that had ever crossed her mind; the idea of it seemed stupid when faced with the fact that she could die at any moment. 

But there she was, sitting in a lonely hospital room alive. Suddenly, love seemed like something she took for granted. That wasn’t to say that Spitfire loved Applejack. No, that wasn’t true, but Spitfire thought that maybe she could and that was enough for her. She cared about Applejack in a way that was different. She wanted to be near her and wanted to be with her and wanted to hear that smile in her voice and feel their bodies pressed together. 

She didn’t love Applejack. Not yet.

Maybe she never would, or maybe she would wake up the next day and know that she did, in fact, love the mare that had shared her sorrows and her company. Spitfire almost died, and she could have died. She very well should have died given the circumstances, but Spitfire was alive. If that wasn’t reason enough to embrace the silly little things she hadn’t before, then what was?

If her vision ever fully came back, she wanted to look at Applejack. Take in the mare that she could grow to love with her own eyes and absorb every little detail about her potential love that she could. Relish in the beauty she knew was there. Sappy language aside, Spitfire wanted to indulge in everything Applejack had to offer. Burns and all. That didn’t matter. There was more to Applejack than what was at the exterior, and not being able to see the mare only reinforced that fact to Spitfire. She just needed to remind Applejack of that.

Spitfire was, by all accounts, a decorated, celebrated general. She’d learned recently that she’d been recognized as some kind of hero for her leadership in Yoketown and, more recently, for her actions in Fillydelphia—the ones that had initially saved her friends’ lives. Despite her inability to keep them alive, her story was seen as heroic by some. Spitfire wished she hadn’t heard that on the radio. It never seemed very heroic to her.

A hardened military veteran forced out of battle by disability and failure and a factory-running injured country mare would make for a couple unlike any other. Spitfire wasn’t quite sure if that was a good thing, but in her eyes, none of that mattered. She wanted Applejack to be happy. She wanted Applejack to be safe. She wanted to see Applejack smile. And maybe, just maybe, she wanted to be more to the mare that was everything Spitfire needed.  

The only reasonable solution to this was pudding. 

There wasn’t much time and there was only so far Spitfire could go without getting caught, but she hoped that if caught, they would let her go through with her noble plan. She had a pony’s heart to win over after all! Maybe. At least, she wanted Applejack to talk to her again. Injuries had a way of making a pony harden and grow cold, and she was sure that that was what happened to her friend. Even without knowing her from before, Spitfire could tell that Applejack wasn’t always like that. Even if the mare was as quick to anger as she claimed. 

Even so, it was different. Applejack wasn’t very sociable, it seemed, but she had opened up to Spitfire! She’d even go as far as to initiate conversations, to let the mare lay next to her despite the doctor’s chagrin. They had grown close, and now it felt like removing the bandages did more to separate them than to remove a barrier. Maybe Applejack was just trying to cope with it herself. 

Spitfire almost laughed. It was total déja-vu. She’d seen it before. After Rainbow Dash lost her wing. They weren’t able to give her a prosthetic one at first. Not for a whole year after she lost her original one—the technology just wasn’t there yet, at least not in a way that would make for anything more than a burden. As a result, the mare had grown bitter. Spiteful even. Dash lost the very thing that made her the pegasus Spitfire had met that day at basic training. 

Rainbow Dash never smiled the same after that. A scar down her eye, and a lopsided set of wings. Even after she got the metallic limb, she never went back to the wise-cracking prankster that Spitfire had grown so close with. She barely smiled, barely talked, and when she did, she simply spat venom. Even Soarin noticed, and Soarin was anything but emotionally adept.

No time to think about that. Spitfire shook the thought out of her head harshly, not caring for the way her brain seemed to bounce around in its own dome. No more thinking about the past. No more thinking about the past.

All she had to think about was the present and the future. And the pudding. Pointedly, she dropped off her bed and took a few unsteady steps toward the door. It was strange to be walking anywhere by herself that wasn’t simply a few steps to Applejack’s bed, but she figured there’d be time for that later. 

Unfortunately, she couldn’t exactly use the lights to help her navigate. What she could do, though, was inch to where she knew the door was and stick out a hoof to make sure she didn’t bump into anything. Spitfire thought about using an outstretched wing, but she figured it’d be harder to shuffle sideways than forwards. Something about the flashbang had thrown her balance askew, and going forward was the safest bet, even after she had regained most of her ability to balance properly.

Her hoof hit a solid surface. Sliding it around confirmed that it was, in fact, the door as she made contact with a door handle. Grinning, Spitfire pushed down and slowly opened the door and crept out into the hallway. The lights above her served almost like a path to follow, though the problem was that she wouldn’t be able to see anypony unless they got too close. Oh well, it wouldn’t be as bad as flying into no pony’s land. 

Confidently, though still with a long-learned sense of caution, Spitfire walked in the direction she knew the cafeteria was in. It was then that the master strategist noticed the biggest flaw in her plan. 

She didn’t have one.

“Stupid Applejack,” Spitfire hissed under her breath. “Making me forget my training…”

It was a rookie mistake; one that a general like herself would have never made. Or, at least, should have never made. A mistake like that would get her and her squad killed on the battlefield, probably by a sneaky unicorn sniper or a sudden bludgeoning to the head. A plan of attack with no real plan only ended in chaos and loss. It’d happened early on in the war and Spitfire had learned her lesson.

Or, that’s what she thought. 

Maybe in another place under different circumstances, she would have had the foresight to stop and think. Though, under different circumstances, she wouldn’t have had an Applejack to be doing something so foolish for. It was a conundrum, but it wasn’t one that Spitfire could spare the time to curse herself over. Instead, she followed the trail of lights, letting the many many supervised trips around the hospital lead her to where she needed to go. She knew that there wasn’t much staff in her wing of the hospital around noon, so it wasn’t quite on her list of things to worry about. 

That would come in once she reached the section where they served food. How would she convince them to give her another pudding? Would she get in trouble for sneaking out of her room without permission and unsupervised? As Spitfire’s hooves carefully clip-clopped on the cold, hard tile, she was stopped suddenly by another body. A brief moment of panic arose in her as she desperately hoped she hadn’t accidentally walked into somepony who she didn’t want to run into. Somepony specifically being Applejack.

Even without her sight or the useful indication of a familiar silhouette, she knew it wasn’t her earth pony friend thanks to the coat that covered the pony’s forelegs and the different smell coming from them. Also, the fact that she didn’t immediately get yelled at in that southern drawl.

The pegasus took a step back and smiled sheepishly, looking at where she knew the pony was. “Sorry about that,” she apologized, hoping that she would be able to keep advancing on her mission. 

Life, however, seemed to enjoy ruining Spitfire’s plans. The pony did not move out of the way as the pegasus had hoped but instead stayed steadfast, hooves planted on the ground. “General? What are you doing outside of your room?”

Of course, the pony she had bumped into just had to be one of the doctors who frequented their room. His smooth voice flowed like butter from his mouth, and yet it felt more like molasses that Spitfire was meant to drown in as she bit back a frown. He was a burn specialist and she knew him only because of her roommate. The more she thought about it, though, the less dire the situation seemed. If he had been treating Applejack for that long, he might have grown fond of the mare. It seemed impossible not to. 

And if he had grown fond of the country mare, then perhaps he could see what Spitfire was trying to do. Maybe he’d even help her. Everypony has a soft side, Spitfire told herself. All you have to do is exploit his!

Thinking quickly, Spitfire sighed in an exaggerated manner. “I was looking for pudding,” she admitted plainly, hanging her head in mock defeat. “For my roommate Applejack. She’s a bit down in the dumps and I wanted to cheer her up.” Hoping her plan would work, Spitfire looked back up to where she knew the stallion was. “She really likes pudding, although I’m sure you knew that. You’re the one who looks after her burns, aren’t you?”

“Well, yes, I am,” he responded with the slightest hint of hesitation. “But you really shouldn’t be out here, General. You’re not supposed to be unsupervised.”

Even though she was trying to trick the doctor into helping her, Spitfire couldn’t help but get defensive. “Oh please, I’m a lot more confident on my hooves and I’m not some useless foal. I’m a general, for crying out loud,” she pointed out with a scowl and a roll of her eyes. “Just because I can’t see doesn’t mean I can’t do things on my own. Isn’t that the whole point of occupational therapy or whatever it is that I have to do?”

“W-well, no of course n—that’s not what I…” Maybe her little outburst did work. The doctor all but stammered his response like a newbie on the field. “I mean, I’m not exactly an expert in vision, I–I just thought…”

“I understand,” Spitfire interjected, cutting off the stuttering stallion. She made sure to add a sweet smile as she continued, “but I just want to help Applejack. Can you help me do that?”

“Well I suppose it would be good for her health to cheer up,” the doctor agreed softly. After a moment, he stomped a hoof on the ground and let out a sharp breath. “Okay, I will get a pudding for you, General, but you have to go straight back to your room, alright? I have a follow-up with Miss Applejack to attend. The nurse should be just about done with the initial check-up.”

“Is she getting better?” Spitfire asked, hoping for a positive answer.

“She’s on track,”  he replied in that way that meant he couldn’t tell her anything else but that. He took a step back that echoed on the hard, polished floor. “Stay right here.”

Spitfire nodded and decided to press herself against the wall instead of taking up the middle of the hallway. It wouldn’t take long for him to come back. The kitchen wasn’t too far from where she sat and he would likely not have to think of an excuse to take a pudding. If he said it was for a patient, they’d probably just let him take it. 

So she waited for a few short moments until the sound of hooves against ceramic alerted her to the return of the doctor. She heard that familiar magic sound again, and she could feel it in the front of her skull, but it didn’t hurt. It was only… a mild discomfort. She could deal with that.

“Okay, here’s the pudding,” he said urgently as he gently tapped the cup against Spitfire’s hoof to let her know where it was. As she took it in her hoof, the magic disappeared and the discomfort went with it. At least now she knew that her sensitivity to it was almost entirely gone.

“Thanks,” Spitfire responded with an honest smile. Her body filled with nerves but they weren’t the bad kind. It was more of… nervous excitement, something she couldn’t remember feeling in a while. It was like anxiety, but it didn’t feel heavy and negative. Instead, it fluttered in her stomach and forced the corners of her mouth into a deep grin. She could deal with that too. “It means a lot, Doc.”

He didn’t say anything, at least nothing notable. He might have muttered something under his breath or mumbled something inaudible, but it was pointless for Spitfire to even assume. She had bigger things to do. Better things. Greater things.

There was nothing greater than getting back on Applejack’s good side.

And Spitfire thought that she more than deserved it. In her opinion, she hadn’t done anything wrong. She was just trying to be supportive, to make Applejack feel better. Maybe it had come across as ingenuine, or at pandering or falsely sympathetic, but she had really meant it. Really, she did. And she really wanted to prove that to Applejack. To prove to the earth pony just how much she really meant to Spitfire.

So she took the pudding cup in her mouth and retraced her steps back to the room. Luckily, she didn’t bump into anypony else on the way back and swiftly closed the door behind her. As for the actual giving of the gift, Spitfire figured she could just give it to Applejack, but she wanted it to be special—to really show how she felt.

There had to be something better she could do, something worthwhile. Glancing around the room if only by muscle memory since she couldn’t see it at all, Spitfire thought something up. It wasn’t much, but it was all she could think to do. She just had to hope that somewhere in the room was a table of sorts and that she had enough imagination to make it work.

Spitfire knew that Applejack wouldn’t be gone for too much longer. Every check-up seemed shorter and shorter and she had already taken up enough time trying to think of something to do. In a rush, she simply dropped the pudding cup on the ground and stumbled around the room, inadvertently bumping into things as if she had just been admitted to the hospital, while in her search for the necessary items for her plan to work.

Just as she had thought, there was a small table on wheels that had been left behind from when they had brought their breakfast earlier. Carefully clearing the top of it of anything that might have been left behind, Spitfire wheeled it to what she thought was the centre of the room. She just really hoped she hadn’t messed it up, but from what she could gather from her spatial awareness, it should have been fine.

Next, she sought out something else. While it seemed a bit unbelievable to hear from a second-hoof account, Spitfire actually did find her other senses to be a bit heightened after her vision disappeared. Her nose, particularly, sharpened, and she used that to her advantage. There was always something in the room that particularly smelled a bit like Applejack; something that was never really explained to her. 

Like a bloodhound, she sniffed it out. For a moment, she felt a bit silly for going into Applejack’s half of the room and digging around without the mare’s permission, but she vindicated herself by reminding herself that it was for the greater good. Finally, she found what she was looking for, and from the far part of Applejack’s bed, she gripped something in between her teeth. It wasn’t particularly heavy, but judging by the offset of the weight of the time, it wasn’t something small, either. She stepped back and let go of the item to get a proper idea of what it was. 

With her muzzle, she felt around it and noticed it had a flat part and a raised part. It smelled like Applejack, that was for sure, but it also had a faint other smell, something similar to her earth pony friend. Whatever it was, it was very very faint. It wasn’t until Spitfire flipped the item over to reveal a hole on the bottom that she realized what she had. 

It was a hat. It must have been Applejack’s hat because it had her scent on it, but she couldn’t recall Applejack ever mentioning having a hat, especially not with her. She’d mentioned wearing mane nets and the work uniform, and how before the war she used to tie her mane with red ribbons and how she hated wearing dresses and dressing up. 

She’d even mentioned her brother’s yoke he’d gotten from their dad, and how her sister had a big pink bow that she had yet to grow into, and her grandmother’s neckerchief. But in all that, Applejack had never mentioned a hat.

Had she somehow brought it with her? Did somepony bring it for her? Spitfire would have noticed that—unless she wasn’t in the room when it happened, but even so, Applejack would have mentioned somepony coming to visit, right? Somepony would have said something. She was sure of it.

Regardless, if Applejack had the hat, then it must have been important to her because as far as Spitfire was aware, Applejack didn’t have any other personal items with her. She grabbed the hat as carefully as she could and went back to the middle of the room to place the hat on the table.

Except the table wasn’t there, and suddenly, Spitfire felt a bit disoriented. She quirked her head, sure that she was in the right spot, that she had left the table where she thought she had. 

Something felt off, but she couldn’t place her hoof on it. Her jaw clenched and her snout wrinkled as she looked around blindly, unable to see her surroundings. The pegasus stepped backwards onto something that cracked beneath her hoof and into something wet and squishy. Her gaze drifted down to it, but she saw only what she had been forced to see. Darkness.

Around her, the world grew louder and louder, the sound fading in from the eerie, faint ringing in her ears as they perked to attention. She kicked away what she had stepped on and flicked off the substance on her hoof. It felt… thick and sticky, like blood.

Spitfire gulped and shut her eyes and instead pinned her ears to her head to try to shut it all out. She didn’t want more blood on her hooves, she didn’t want the world to grow impossibly loud, and yet there she was, unseeing and unhearing in a space that did not exist. A growl built in her throat but died out in her clenched teeth.

“Spitfire?”

The pegasus stepped back in fear, trying to recoil from the voice. Her hoof met the blood-like substance and her wings flared out, sending a strange shockwave of discomfort through her. The next thing she knew, her hooves slipped from beneath her and her chest hit the ground flat. It was cold and hard and the liquidy, sticky substance clung to the fuzz on her chest. Something tugged at the item still in the grasp of her teeth, and she let it go without any hesitance. The world died down around her again, and Spitfire found herself exhausted and covered in the liquid chocolate pudding on the floor of her hospital room, trembling like a foal in the winter. Her heaving lungs didn’t do much to help as her breath shook in time with her body.

It must have only lasted a few seconds, but to Spitfire, it felt like an eternity. Never had she been so afraid to not be able to see. Not since the day it happened and for a while after that. The weight of what had just occurred weighed heavily on her, and the pegasus curled in on herself. 

“Hey, it’s alright, Spitfire,” came the voice that Spitfire longed to hear. Or at least, she did. She wasn’t so sure how much she wanted to hear Applejack’s voice at that exact moment, but hey, at least she was actually talking to her. “It’s fine, you’re fine. I, uh, came by myself. Do you want me to get somepony?”

It was silent for a moment until Spitfire managed to recollect herself enough to shakily sit up and shake her head. She looked away from where she knew Applejack was and blinked away a tear that managed to come to the surface. Anything she tried to say died out before she could even open her mouth, so the pegasus decided to stay quiet.

Shame spoke louder than words.

Once Spitfire seemed to calm down, Applejack reached out to her and nudged the pegasus’s shoulder lightly. “You okay now? What happened?”

Spitfire’s throat clenched up a bit, but she managed to power through it. “I’m fine,” she wheezed out before clearing her throat to speak more clearly. “I just wanted to give you pudding.”

After a brief moment of silence, Applejack let out an unbecoming snort-laugh. “Oh, so that’s what’s all over you?”

“Uh—”

“And just what in the hay were you doin’ with my… hat?” Applejack added, making her way next to Spitfire. Her voice wasn’t exactly accusatory, but it still made Spitfire squirm a bit.

Now that the reality of her surroundings actually hit Spitfire, she felt foolish. She didn’t even want to imagine in what state she left the room. For all that, though, at least Applejack was actually talking to her. Was that a win? 

She swallowed dryly and turned carefully to preen her wings – something she had been neglecting for a while. It gave her a moment to try to figure out just how she was going to explain her stupid plan to Applejack without making herself seem pathetic. She wasn’t sure if she had preened her wing enough, but she figured she could continue later. Not that it really mattered anyway.

“I wanted to make it up to you,” Spitfire admitted, throwing a hoof to her forehead as she did. “I know you like pudding, so I got you one, and I… found your hat. I thought maybe it’d make you feel better.” She wrinkled her nose and groaned. “It was a stupid idea, and I see that now. I just didn’t want you to be upset at me, Applejack. You’re my only friend.”

It was Applejack’s turn to be silent for a moment. She didn’t say anything as she gently pressed what seemed to be cloth or towel against Spitfire’s chest and dragged it down, probably to get the pudding off of her. “I ain’t mad at you.”

That was hard to believe. Spitfire furrowed her brow. “Really?”

Applejack definitely heard the sarcasm dripping from Spitfire’s voice as she scoffed. “I mean, maybe I was at the time, but I don’t think I was mad at you for what you said. I was just mad at myself.” She paused on the cleaning to huff and press a different towel against Spitfire’s coat. It was a bit scratchier than the last. “I didn’t really wanna believe what you were sayin’ ‘cause I thought it wasn’t true. I’m just… a bit afraid, Spitfire. Afraid, prideful, and stubborn.”

“So then why wouldn’t you talk to me?” 

“I didn’t wanna say something I didn’t mean,” Applejack explained as she wiped off the last of the pudding off of her body, or at least Spitfire thought she had. “I was bein’ a mite bit foolish. I know that, and I’m… sorry. I just didn’t wanna get my hopes up, you understand?”

Spitfire grimaced a bit as she tried to make sense of what Applejack was saying, but she only really understood some of what she had said. “I guess I kind of know what you mean, but why wouldn’t you believe me?”

Applejack huffed harshly. “‘Cause I’ve had just about enough of ponies lyin’ to me.”

“I wouldn’t lie to you, ‘Jack,” Spitfire promised, looking resolutely at the mare. “I swear, I wouldn’t do that. It might be silly to say, but you mean a lot to me. I don’t know how you feel about me, but you were there next to me this whole time and you’ve made being here just a bit more bearable.”

“Just a bit?” 

Spitfire could hear the teasing smile in her voice. She cracked a smile in return. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

The towel came back, this time rubbing at Spitfire’s jaw and the pegasus could just feel her face burning up at the touch. She hoped Applejack wouldn’t notice, but if she had, she didn’t show it. “Alright, alright. Well, like I said, I tend to get myself all worked up over nothin’, so I figure I should apologize for takin’ out my frustrations on you.”

“It’s okay,” Spitfire reassured her. “I get it, trust me.” She swallowed dryly and bit her lip. “Do you remember what I told you about what happened to me?”

“Eeyup.”

The pegasus took a deep breath. “I don’t know, I just… It kind of all came back to me just now. Not specifically the… the flashbang but just being in that war, you know? I could practically hear it, feel it, smell it. And I guess you just kind of remind me of my old troopmate—my old friend. The one that I told you about, the one that was the last face I saw.”

“Yeah, you told me ‘bout that, though you always made her seem so great,” Applejack pointed out. “And I remind you of her?”


Spitfire nodded slowly. “Her name is—was—Rainbow Dash. See, she… she went through something, too. I don’t remember if I told you, but she got her wing blown off by an explosive. Practically clean off,” she explained with a shudder. She could almost hear her agonized scream. 

“Shit.”

“Yeah. And y’know what? She loved flying, she used to be so… so full of life. Always brought a smile on our faces,” she recalled with a tiny grin. “She loved playing pranks while we were in the barracks or waiting to be called on duty. But despite being so foalish, she was one of the best soldiers I ever had the pleasure of serving with.” Her smile faltered. “As time went on, she lost that spark. It happens to everypony.

“You see stuff out there, stuff you can’t unsee. It gets burned into you, Applejack,” Spitfire croaked out, her voice just barely cracking. “It doesn’t matter where you are or what you’re doing, it’s all you think about sometimes. I guess it happened to Rainbow Dash too, except the last straw was that explosive. She was too young for that to happen to her.”

“What happened to her after?”

“Well, they patched her up. They had to remove what was left of her wing.” Spitfire frowned as she remembered how her friend’s attitude had changed. “She became… really dark after that. Bitter, almost. I can’t blame her. She had to go around with only half a pair of wings. You can’t be a Wonderbolt if you can’t fly, so she was put back on the ground troops. I think she hated it. I never really saw her smile that whole time.”

Applejack let the silence linger for a moment until she spoke up barely above a whisper, “And you think I’m gonna be like that?”

Spitfire shook her head. “No, but I don’t think you’re immune to it. See, the thing is that after a while, they finally made a prosthetic wing suitable for battle, and Crash was one of the first pegasi to be fitted with one. I saw her smile that day, just a bit. She never went back to that same Rainbow Dash I knew, but… but she was a little bit more whole after that.

“I know that it’s not the same, what happened to you and what happened to her, but I can’t help but make an association, Applejack. I just… I don’t want you to lose yourself because of some injury.” Her lips quivered as she searched for the words she wanted to say, but found herself unable to think of anything of substance. She huffed in frustration with herself but kept going. “I meant it when I said that you’re more than just your burns. Whatever you look like when I finally get to see you, that’s the Applejack I know, and seeing you won’t change that.” 

“You really mean it?” Applejack echoed.

“I swear. I’ll prove it to you after we get out of here,” Spitfire promised with an earnest smile. Just being with Applejack made her feel better despite the massive fool she had made of herself. At least her plan worked… even if not as expected.

Applejack shuffled in front of her. Spitfire could feel her physically get closer until the earth pony’s fuzzy cheek rubbed against hers in a nuzzle. “After we get out,” the country mare echoed, burying her muzzle in Spitfire’s neck.