It was a harsh winter’s evening when Applejack returned home. As usual, Rainbow Dash was lounging on the sofa. She jumped when her wife slapped a newspaper down onto the coffee table.
“How could you do this to me, Dash?”
As Rainbow glanced down at the the sleazy tabloid, her mind went blank, all of her pre-planned excuses fleeing into the ether. With the photographic evidence of her indiscretions sitting right there on the table she knew she was caught.
She floundered for a few seconds before breaking down and confessing everything. What followed was a tawdry tale of long lonely nights on tour with the Wonderbolts. Nights where one of Applejack’s old hats with her wife’s earthy scent of sweat and apples became her only comfort. How she’d smell it every night before going to bed.
The peer pressure she’d felt. How her teammates partied after every show. How booze flowed like untamed river, unceasing until everypony was stupid drunk. How no ‘Bolt ever went to bed with same warm body twice. How she finally gave in to temptation. She hadn’t gone seeking it. The mare had been young, willing, and in love with what Rainbow Dash represented. It was easy for somepony of Dash’s ego to be seduced while intoxicated and vulnerable.
“I didn’t even remember her name the next morning. It didn’t mean anything,” she begged. “You gotta believe me.”
Applejack remained unmoved. “I want to believe you, Dash. I really do, but answer me this. Was it the only time?”
It took Dash another few seconds as she fidgeted, but finally, she choked out a response. “No,” she admitted, ears burning with shame. “I knew it was wrong, but everyone else was doing it, and I just went along anyway.”
Both remained quiet, neither said or did anything for a minute.
After letting out a resigned sigh, Applejack took off her scarf and hung it in the front closet. She removed her Stetson and hung it alongside the others, and reached into the back of the closet, lifting out an old double-barreled shotgun and a box of shells.
“Whoa! Hold on, AJ! Put that down!” Rainbow shouted. “I love you, babe!”
“You remember our wedding vows, dontcha?” Applejack asked her sternly. “‘Cause I do. Remember what I promised would happen if you were ever unfaithful?”
“Applejack c’mon!” Rainbow Dash begged. She’d never been more frightened in her life. When they’d been dating, both Big Macintosh and Granny Smith had insinuated what the Apples did with adulterers. She’d honestly thought they were just joking around with her at the time. “You-you’re not really gonna shoot me, right? Right?!” She sniffled but then felt a tender touch as a hoof warmly cupped her cheek. Dash looked up into her wife’s soft, and she hoped, forgiving eyes.
““Aww…Sugarcube, no.” Her wife shook her head. “Nah, I can’t shoot you. Not when you’re looking at me with those big sorrowful eyes.”
As tears burst forth, Dash felt a great weight leave her stomach.
“You gotta sleep sometime.”
The weight returned, now three times as heavy. She watched as Applejack sat down in the easy-chair. Her favorite chair. It was a custom recliner, dyed all the colors of Rainbow’s mane which Dash had bought as a surprise on their first anniversary. The shotgun lay across her lap, and she waited.
Rainbow Dash didn’t sleep for four days. She knew Applejack wasn’t lying. All day, she sat in her chair, the shotgun never out of reach. “I love you, Applejack,” Dash would tell her. It became a plea, every hour on the dot like clockwork.
“After you’re dead, Rainbow,” Applejack said to her on the third night. “I reckon I’ll bury you out in the orchard. Maybe plant a sapling right on the spot to remember you by.”
Each night Rainbow sat on the sofa across from her. Not once did she try to take the shotgun. She knew it wouldn’t save her. She could’ve flown away, just jump through a window and woosh, she’d be free and clear, the snow wouldn’t hinder a flyer of her caliber. But, in the end, she couldn’t leave Applejack. Not like this. It just wasn’t in her.
Sitting in her chair for so long gave Applejack a lot of time to think. She could see the fear in her wife’s eyes and it hurt her deeply. But what choice did she have? She’d given her word on their wedding day, and an Apple never went back her word.
The morning of the fifth day, Applejack returned the shotgun to the closet. Taking her love into her forelegs she told her in no uncertain terms what was going to happen. “Tomorrow, you’re gonna write that captain of yours and take a leave of absence. Then, for the next two months at least, we’re gonna fix this.” Dash mumbled a tearful “yes” into her wife’s chest. Applejack didn’t mind the wetness matting her fur. “It’s gonna take me a while to trust you again, sugarcube, but…” She held her tighter. “But we’ll make it… I want us to make it.”