//------------------------------// // 18 // Story: The Truth // by Jet Cannon //------------------------------// Back and forth...back and forth…back and forth…back and forth…back and forth… “Big Mac!” He froze mid-stride; his eyes widened and locked onto the bathroom door, praying for the best but fearing the worst. “…eeyup?” he asked, with a gulp. “Quit yer pacin’ back and forth, it’s makin’ it hard to concentrate!” Macintosh exhaled very loudly, having no other way of effectively releasing some of the pent-up tension and emotions whirling through his body. “Ah’m sorry, Ah just, Ah just… ya know?” he feebly replied after catching his breath. The wait was doing nothing for his nerves, and he kept straining his ears this way and that for an indication of their family returning from Ponyville. Every creak of the floorboards beneath him had made the huge young stallion jump like a little filly, and his stomach felt on the verge of emptying itself into whatever container happened to be nearest. Though Applejack did indeed “know”, she did not respond, for she was not feeling very much better on her side of the bathroom door. She sat on the floor, a few small plastic instruments lying on their boxes in front of her. Using the home test kits had been very fiddly with only her hooves, but she didn’t feel able to ask for Macintosh’s help with them: yes, they had been intimate before, but there were certain things a mare just had to do for herself. Now all she needed to do was wait. Actually going and getting the kits alone had seemed rather daunting, so Big Mac had come along to provide moral support, though he had not gone inside the pharmacy in an attempt to avoid suspicion. Every second that Applejack spent inside had made her feel like a criminal on the run, with eyes surely on the lookout for her in all directions. She had made a show out of browsing practically the entire shop as she waited for other customers to leave, before quickly swiping a few small boxes from their shelves and almost galloping to the checkout. The attendant mare had eyed her strangely, and her eyebrows rose as she examined Applejack’s choices, but she had thankfully maintained her silence, and even hoofed a few relevant leaflets into her bag with a sympathetic smile. It had been a small matter to get the kits back home and safely hidden in her room, and today had presented the perfect opportunity to use them: Redstreak and Pink Pearl had decided to treat Granny Smith to lunch in one of Ponyville’s cafes, an offer they had of course extended to their foals as well, but Big Mac had quickly thought up some excuse or other for the two of them to stay behind. Applejack hadn’t heard it at the time, and besides which she didn’t care for the moment: the kits were ready, a couple even beeping to announce the fact. Mac had heard as well, and he stopped moving entirely as he stared again at the door, waiting with bated breath for their fears to either be confirmed or dispelled. There was quiet for the longest time, the muffled sounds of life from outside the only noise. Eventually Mac couldn’t stand it any longer, and again he loudly exhaled, then caught his breath, and then asked the million bit question: “Applejack, what do they say?” His voice sank through the silence like a spoon through syrup, the brief noise being swallowed up almost as soon as it left his mouth. Presently, however, there was the sound of hooves on the bathroom floor, and the door opened to reveal Applejack again. One look and he had his answer. “Oh Celestia, Applejack…” The only thing preventing Mac from passing out there and then was Applejack doing so first, and he had to catch her before she hit the floor. It was then, with his pregnant fillyfriend in a dead swoon in his forelegs, that the young Macintosh came to a horrifying realisation: the two of them were entirely out of their depths. He knew, much to his chagrin, that they couldn’t possibly deal with this on their own. And that meant facing a prospect even more terrifying than a nineteen-year-old learning he was going to be a father: telling his parents. Mere seconds passed before Mac joined Applejack in blissful unconsciousness. "Delicious, Pearl, as always! Ah'm gonna go finish up out there, shouldn't take too much longer." The head stallion of the Apple family household pushed back his chair with a satisfied smile and a full belly, and he sidled round the table to nuzzle his wife affectionately. “Alright, honey. Just be careful, it’s gettin’ awful dark out there,” she replied, nuzzling Redstreak back. "A-actually, Daddy," Applejack began, knowing full well she wouldn't have the courage to say this later, "could y'all hold on a minute?” Her parents and grandmother exchanged a knowing look: for much of dinner that evening the two Apples junior had only distractedly picked at their food, when they weren’t stealing nervous glances at each other. The three Apples senior were more subtle in their silent communication, and all three could tell from the moment they got back that afternoon that something was up. Furthermore, having not been struck blind for the past year, they all thought they knew what Big Mac and Applejack were about to say. Unfortunately, they only had half of it. Redstreak seated himself again, his gentlest “Daddy” smile on his face, and Pink Pearl pulled her chair up next to his as she and Granny Smith both did their level best to appear kind and motherly. The whole display was almost too much to bear for Applejack; all their smiling faces, all the love and support she knew they were ready to give… but they didn’t know the full story yet, and that was the worrying part. Just how loving and supportive would they be when the whole truth was known? Big Macintosh could tell Applejack was struggling, and he got out of his seat to sit next to her. He held one of her hooves in both of his, and gave a little squeeze. It’s ok, Ah’m here, take yer time. She swallowed. Deep breath in, deep breath out. Alright, here goes nothin’… “Mama, Daddy, Granny Smith, we... Macintosh and Ah, we're together.” "Gee, now ain't that a surprise?" Redstreak chortled, his wife and mother both joining in. "Well gosh, sugarcubes, don't look so surprised!" said a grinning Pearl to their shocked faces. "We're yer family, and the both of y'all're terrible at keepin' secrets! O'course we realised by now!" "But...but..." Neither Applejack nor Macintosh could think of anything to say to that, so instead, Applejack swallowed and tried to ride what momentum her voice still had left. "T-that ain't all, though..." "Land sakes, darlin', why ya lookin' so glum?" Redstreak's good mood still held, and he decided to try improving theirs with an embarrassing joke. “Ah mean heck, it ain’t like y’all are pregnant or nothin’, right?” Silence. Neither youth said or did anything other than stare. “Heh,” Redstreak began again, a sinking feeling settling in his stomach, “AJ? Mac? That was yer cue to laugh an’ say “No, Daddy, that ain’t it at all.”” Macintosh remained silent and still, but Applejack’s bottom lip began to tremble. “You... you don't mean?” Pink Pearl had gone pale, her eyes as wide as saucers. Granny Smith seemed liable to faint at any moment, and she held onto the table for support. Redstreak just looked at the young pair, his face stuck somewhere between disbelief and anger. “Tell me. Fer the love o'Celestia, tell me you're not sayin' what Ah think you're sayin'!” Utter misery didn't come close to explaining how Applejack felt at that moment, with the unbelieving stares of her elders upon her, hurt and disappointment clear on their faces. She began to cry, falling forward to the table, and then all eyes switched to Big Mac as he tried to comfort her. He jumped when his father jabbed a hoof towards him, and prepared himself for a screaming rant. “You. How did this happen?” The calmness in Redstreak’s voice was actually more terrifying than shouting would have been, and Macintosh struggled to string a coherent sentence together as he trembled in fear. “W-well… it was af-after AJ’s sixteenth party, and um, uh… we’d been talkin’ about it f-fer a while, an’ we… we went into the b-barn l-loft and, um… and we…” “Alright, Macintosh, Ah think we can figger out the rest.” Their father scowled at the pair, before noticing his mother finally fainting in her chair from the corner of his eye. “Pearl,” he said, standing and gently lifting Granny Smith from her chair, “Ah think Mama needs a lie down. Could you take her upstairs, please? Me an’ these two’re gonna have a little chat.” Pink Pearl didn’t quite seem to hear her husband at first, but then she helped to rouse the elder mare and half-support, half-carry her from the kitchen. Her gaze as she left lingered on Macintosh the most, although he couldn’t bring himself to look back at her. Redstreak motioned towards the adjacent living room, his eyes on his daughter. “Applejack, in there please.” She stayed where she was, crying quietly into her forelegs. “Young lady!” Applejack snapped up straight and looked where he was pointing, then slowly got to her hooves and slunk away, sniffling as she went. Macintosh made to follow, but a look from Redstreak told him very clearly: Stay there. You’re next. Macintosh was several inches taller now than his adopted father, and his frame nearly rivalled Redstreak’s for pure muscle, but Macintosh couldn’t remember feeling smaller as the older stallion passed him by, shutting the door behind him.