//------------------------------//
// A hard night's work 
// Story: A Job With Benefits 
// by Boomstick Mick 
//------------------------------//

	The inside of Soarin's barn had begun its transition from a run down shack - to its macabre form that it maintained in the twilight hours. Dusty beams of light from the waning sun bled through the cracks of the hovel, elongating the shadows of the objects within, giving their silhouetted forms a rather sinister appearance. A cool breeze shifted the building slightly, jostling the rusted chains hanging from the rafters, which clanked in cadence along with the structure's groaning wood. The scythe and hedge scissors hanging on rusted nails tapped unstintingly against the wall every time the wind blew, adding to the eldritch symphony. Soarin stared morosely into the corner and listened to the odd sounds his dilapidated building made as he reflected on his life.           

His emotions went through stages as he laid there: It started with depression, then went to self pity, then turned to anger, and eventually grew into hatred. He hated Wave Chill. He hated Spitfire. And above all else, Soarin hated himself. Ultimately, the one who was truly at fault was he. He could have stood up for himself a little more. He could have tried a little harder during his practice sessions with his team, which might have aided him in avoiding the situation in which he now found himself. He sighed despairingly. He could have done this. He could have done that. But what was, simply was; there was no getting around it. 

The crestfallen Pegasus' ear twitched when he heard a bell in the distance. Granny Smith's voice could be heard from across the pasture. 

"Come and get it, everypony! Soup's on!"          	

Soarin uncurled from the corner and, with a sigh, he forced himself onto his hoofs. He didn't want to be late for his termination. In a way, he couldn't wait for it to be over and done with. Whether the whole family was going to be in on firing him, or if it was just going to be Applejack telling him off, it didn't matter. It wasn't like he expected anyone to step in and defend him. 

He started toward the door, but a sudden, unexpected knock made him freeze in place. Was spitfire back to emasculate him some more? The first series of knocks was proceeded by another. The perturbed stallion swallowed as he steeled himself, attempting to maintain whatever ounce of shallow pride he may have still possessed. "C-come in..."

The door creaked open, and a freckle-pocked face peaked out at him from its border. Soarin felt uneasy as those familiar emerald eyes fell upon him. "Hey there, cowboy." Applejack smiled shyly. "Yer lookin' a bit lonely in here all by yerself."

Cowboy? Soarin thought. What's this deceitful little mare up to? 

When Applejack pushed the door open and entered the building, Soarin noticed a basket hanging from her neck.  "Ah figured that uh..." She smiled timidly, blushing as she stroked the back of her head. "Okay, know what? Let me start over." The farmer cleared her throat. "So, this morning..."

Soarin tilted his head in an inquisitive manner. "This morning?"

"Uh, Ah just wanted to apologize for this morning. You were obviously in a bad mood, and Ah wouldn't stop naggin' you. Ah'm sorry 'bout that. Braeburn told me that somethin' seems to be bothering you, so Ah figured we could talk about it over dinner..." She paused to rub her leg with a hoof, a coy little smile gracing her face as she dipped her head and glanced up at him through her golden bangs. "Just the two of us?"  

Soarin glared at her, vexed by her cutsie demeanor. This coy behavior of her's would have normally charmed him, but he saw through her charade. His best friend had just abandoned him, the media was publicly spurning him, and his former captain had all but castrated him. He was not about to let this backwoods hick make a fool of him, too!

"Ah even baked you a fresh apple pie... Y-you still like mah pies, don't ya?" 

Applejack tried to smile, but her expression dimmed into awkward confusion when the stallion would only reply with a silent glare. "S-sugarcube, what's wrong?" She set the basket down and approached him with a worried look on her face. 

"Nothing that's any of your concern," Soarin replied, a cold resentment in his tone. "Why don't you just do what you came here to do, so I can get the hell out of here!" He scowled at her venomously. That look of confusion and innocence on her face worsened his mood. If only she was aware of how much he knew. "Well? Are you going to fire me? We both know I don't belong here, so get on it with it, already!" 

"You don't belong here?" Applejack's brow furrowed in puzzlement. Her mouth twitched several times, as if she didn't even know what to ask first. "Soarin," she finally managed, "yer as good as family 'round here. Remember last night? Where's your hat?"

"My... hat?" Now it was Soarin's turn to be perplexed. A hat? He never wore hats.

Applejack swiveled her head and scanned her eyes around the barn. Finally she noticed the old scarecrow's hat in the corner where Soarin had tossed it that morning. She retrieved it and approached him. "Last night," she hinted as she offered the mangy old accessory to him. "Don't ya remember?" 

The baffled stallion, not knowing what to make of the situation, and already in a state of grief, shot a vicious warning glare at her. He didn't know what she was getting at, or what game she was trying to play, but he was well beyond pissed off now. She could at least treat him with some dignity. 

The farmer lifted the hat to set it on his head.

Soarin's temper finally piqued. "I don't want that filthy thing on my head!" With a quick swing, he smacked the hat out of her hoof, sending it hurling into the wall. 

Applejack backed away from him, green eyes wide and watering with dismay. "Are you some kinda mental case!" She demanded in a strained voice.

"Yes! Yes, I am! And it's ponies like you that have made me this way!"

"Ponies like me?"

"Ponies like you!" The ill-tempered stallion jabbed a hoof in her direction. "You selfish, backbiting, two-faced liar! And stop looking at me like you don't know what I'm talking about! It's not enough that my life has been completely ruined, but now you have to come around and mock me?"

The mare's face - while meek and startled at first - began to burn with outrage at Soarin's accusation. "Ain't no one mocking you but the voices in yer head, you paranoid schizophrenic! And how dare you accuse me of being a liar! Ah'm the very essence of honesty, ya hear?" 

"Hearing you go on about honesty," Soarin chuckled sardonically, a contemptuous hoof over his face. "It's like a whore preaching the virtues of chastity!"    

Applejack's face displayed an array of emotions: Shock, hurt, anger, confusion. Finally she scowled and shoved Soarin back with a surprising amount of force that nearly sent him reeling off his hooves. He found himself having to rear up with his hind legs and counter balance the backwards momentum with his wings to keep from toppling backwards. 

"You want me to fire you? Fine! You're fired! Get the hell off mah property!" The inconsolably furious mare's golden hair whipped as she spun around and stomped her way out of the barn, slamming the door so hard on her way out that the entire building shook.  

Soarin stood there, glaring at the door for - he didn't know how long. The dark of night had swallowed the farm by the time he finally moved. He thought he'd feel victorious for once. He resisted Applejack's charms and told her off. But no, he felt worse than before. He rationalized with himself over and over again that he didn't do anything wrong. She was just a liar, and a good actor. She planned it all to happen this way! All she had to do was push; and push; and push, until he finally snapped, so that she could make him out to look like the bad guy in all of this... That had to be it...

Nothing worked, no matter how hard he tried to reason with himself. He felt even worse than before. He examined the basket on the ground. Applejack seemed to have forgotten about it in her fit. Moving slowly, Soarin approached it and lifted the lid. Inside of the wicker container was a feast for two: a freshly baked apple pie, two barbecued ears of corn, containers filled with baked beans and mashed potatoes. There was a tin of cornbread, and a thermos full of piping hot tomato soup, and a six pack of Red Buffalo, which just happened to be Soarin's favorite ale. The delicious feast was enough to make Soarin's mouth water. He hadn't eaten since breakfast. "Did she make all of this for me? Why?" Soarin was flabbergasted. Why would she go through the trouble? She hated him. She wanted him gone. She didn't want him anywhere near her. Those were her exact words.  

It didn't make sense. Where was the payoff to all of this? Where was the punchline? He knew what he heard that morning. He disgusted her. Soarin couldn't make heads or tails out of anything. Maybe he really was becoming a mental case. No, that couldn't have been it. One who is truly crazy doesn't perceive themselves to be crazy, do they?

Soarin's head ached unmercifully as he attempted to unravel the quandary. He puzzled, and puzzled, but to no avail. His thoughts eventually turned back to his day - how he had lost everything. He no longer had a job, a reputation, or even a friend. There was nothing to do now but leave, perhaps change his name and wander Equestria. There was nothing else he could do. He espied the beer within the basket, and sighed forlornly. "A few for the road." Soarin groaned. "Why the hell not?"      





Three beers now gone, and the headache began to subside. Soarin knocked back another, emptying the glass vessel's contents with several deep gulps, not even bothering to taste or savor the thick bold body of his favorite beverage. His head buzzed pleasantly as his blood thinned. Just two more to go, then he'd leave. The Apples had yet to pay him for his work, so he decided that this would be his fee. It wasn't like he needed their money anyway. They were behind on their harvest. They needed every bit they could scrounge. Soarin didn't know why he cared about them, but he did. Perhaps it was the alcohol that fueled his sympathy.

Soarin grabbed another bottle and wedged the edge of the cap between the slats of the table, prying it off. Just as he was about to down it, he could hear the hinges of his door wailing. He didn't care who it was. Being polite or accepted by anyone was no longer a concern of his. "Piss off!" He warned, not bothering to know who his visitor was.

"Are you drunk again?"

Soarin dropped the bottle and turned around to see that little red-headed filly standing in the doorway, those amber eyes reflecting the glow of the lantern like shimmering opals. As intoxicated as the stallion was, he couldn't bring himself to take his animosity out on her. He took a breath to correct his tone and said, "kid, what are you doing here? It's getting late. You have school tomorrow, don't you?"

"Ah wanted to give ya somethin'," replied the filly.

Soarin chuckled. "I don't need anything."

"But Ah want to pay you back for gettin' me to school this morning."

"I don't want anything. Just consider the ride to school a freebee, alright?"

"But Ah broke mah back gathering the ingredients!"

"Ingredients?"

The filly nodded as she approached the inebriated stallion. That was when he noticed the satchel slung around her shoulder. "Ingredients," she confirmed. "After school, Ah came here to show you a potion Ah found in the book Ah borrowed from Twilight, but you wouldn't even look at it."

Soarin reached for his last beer. "This is the only potion I need right now, kid."

Apple Bloom hopped up on the table and took it from him. "No, you don't need this. You look like you had enough."

Soarin rested his face on his hooves with a look of amusement, his eyes slightly unfocused. "Oh yeah? Then tell me, little one - what do I need?"

The filly scrunched her face up in revulsion. "You could start with a breath mint."

Soarin snorted. "Quick with that wit, kid. Don't ever lose that sharp tongue of yours. Now, seriously, give me my drink back." 

"Ah'll give it to ya upside yer head if you don't pull it out of yer butt and listen to me."

The Pegasus rolled his eyes impatiently. "Okay, fine. I'm listening. What is it?"

"As Ah was saying," the filly continued, "since you was in yer weird little funk, Ah took it upon mahself to search around town for the recipe ah needed for a special concoction. Ah had to stop at the herbal supply store, Ah had to scour Granny's spice rack, Ah even had to walk all the way out to Zecora's hut in the Everfree forest for some of the less ubiquitous items Ah required."

"Okay, I'll bite. You called it a concoction? What's this 'concoction' of yours?" Soarin asked, eager to get back to his bottle.

"Ah was gettin' to that!" Apple Bloom snapped. "It's the potion Ah was tryin' to show you earlier. You told me this morning that you couldn't remember what happened last night. It just so happens that Ah found a potion in mah book that's used to treat amnesia. Just one little sip, and it stimulates the section of your brain that retains short term memories."

"I'd rather stimulate my brain with alcohol," Soarin quipped dryly.

Apple Bloom, rolling her eyes, dug through her satchel and produced a vial of radiant purple fluid that glowed as brightly as the lantern on the table, its surface effervescing with lavender froth. "look, Ah went through a lot of trouble to make this for you. Just take it."

Soarin sighed. "I don't even think I want to remember what happened... It's not like it even matters anymore."

"Why not?"

"It just doesn't."

"Ah will not accept that answer. You were hounding me this morning for clues as to what may have happened between you and mah sister, now you just suddenly don't care? Explain!"       

"It's a long story. I don't want
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to get into it, now give me my beer back." The Pegasus reached to reclaim the bottle from the filly's grasp, but she whacked Soarin over his hoof with it, causing him to withdrawal in surprise. "What'd you do that for, you little brat?" Soarin glared at her, rubbing his bruised hoof.

"Ah ain't givin' you yer poison back 'til you tell me what's goin' on with you!"

"Why are you acting like you care?"

"Because Ah do care! Ah like you, Soarin; you're a cool guy."

"Kid, that's really sweet of you, but after I finish my drink, I'm out of here. You, nor anyone else around here will ever see me again." Soarin reached for the bottle again, but Apple Bloom pulled it away.

"Where are you going?" She inquired, a hint of desperation in her tone. "Why do you want to leave?"

"Don't worry about it." Once again, Soarin reached out for his bottle, and once again, Apple Bloom struck him.

"Stop hitting me!"

"Mister Soarin, please tell me what's goin' on with you."

"Oh, so now you're back to calling me 'mister' after flogging me with a bottle?"

The filly sighed as she set the vessel down on the table. "Go ahead and take it, alright? But Ah just want to help you. Can we at least compromise? You got your beer, now you tell me what's going on. Help me help you."

Without giving it another thought, Soarin swiped the bottle and wrenched the cap off. Just as he had brought the neck up to his lips, he looked down at those pitiful amber eyes. His conscience got the better of him. That little girl's eyes were like siege weapons designed to batter down the walls of any and all resistance. He set the bottle down. "I'll give you the short version, kid," he began with a reluctant sigh. "It's pretty much like this: I was looking forward to working here, to having a new start. I thought my life was going to begin all anew. But no. My problems from my past life just keep piling up on me. And as for why I'm leaving - your sister fired me."

The filly's face flared with disbelief. "No way!"

"Way."

"Why? You must have done somethin' real bad."    

"Yeah, I'm thinking that thing I must have done that was 'real bad' must have happened last night. I know this, because I just happened to stumble upon a conversation AJ was having with Braeurn when I got back from taking you to school."

Apple Bloom cocked her head to the side, beaming at the stallion with a suspicious sideways glance. "What kinda things did they say?"

"Said a rich city boy like me doesn't belong here. Said something about how I'm always accosting her, undressing her with my eyes, looking at her like she's a piece of salt lick. Breaburn even offered to ruff me up and chase me off the property for her, but she said she'd rather handle it herself. I walked in on the middle of this little conversation they were having, and then, they were suddenly nothing but smiles and honey, like they were both so glad to see me... Makes me sick!" Soarin spat. "Two faced backbiters!"

"Hey, now you stop that! You talk about mah sister or mah cousin like that one more time, and Ah'll knock ya stupider than ya already are, hear?"

"It's so cute how you blindly defend them," Soarin remarked, his lip curling in a sarcastic sneer.

"Ah will defend them! Ah'll defend them 'til the bitter end! And Ah'm tellin' you straight up that they wouldn't do that. Both Brae and AJ are the types who will let you know to your face if they have an issue with you!"    

"So, you're calling me a liar?"

"Ah ain't callin' you a liar, Soarin! Maybe you didn't hear em right?" Apple Bloom scratched her chin pensively. "Either that, or they were talkin' about that other rich city boy who's been skulking around here... Ah saw him following mah sister around with his head all full of puppy dog eyes - it was when Ah was lookin' around for you earlier; Applejack did not seem to like that boy one bit."

"Other rich city boy?" Soarin quarried, his intoxicated mind working slowly to fit the pieces of the puzzle. "There's another 'rich city boy' around here?"         

"Yeah," the little Apple nodded. "He's some sort of famous, hotshot traveling journalist. Miss Rarity's been goin' on and on about him for weeks now. Ah doubt she's happy about her crush wanting to spend all his time with AJ. And all AJ wants is to be left alone by both of em." The filly smirked. "Makes for juicy gossip, huh?"  

Sections of the conversation between Applejack and Braeburn came to memory with the filly's information: "Rarity's been runnin' me ragged, too, as if it was mah fault that preppy little city boy's been drooling over me. She won't leave me alone! If you want em, you can have em - Ah sure as shoot don't want him! Ah don't want him on the farm, and Ah damn sure don't want him around me!" 

Soarin turned pale as the pieces of the puzzle began to fit in place, slowly coming into completion of his self-portrait as an incorrigible jackass. "This other rich city boy you're speaking of... What's his name?"

"Slenderhoof, or somethin' like that," Apple Bloom shrugged.

"You mean Trenderhoof?"

"Yeah, that's it. Sweet guy, but the way he was staring at mah sister was a bit creepy. He was lookin' at her like she was..." The filly's eyes glanced upward as she thought of an appropriate analogy.

"A piece of salt lick." Soarin facehoofed and collapsed back into his seat. "Pony feathering Luna on a bucking cracker!"

The filly jumped, startled by the obscene outburst. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"I'm an idiot!" 

"Hey, yer not an idiot! Okay, you was a bit quick to jump to conclusions, but that don't make you—"

"I called AJ a two-faced, back biting liar." Soarin hung his head and covered his face, shamed by his own actions. "And then, I compared her declarations of honesty to that of a whore preaching virtue..." 

Apple Bloom's mouth formed an O, her eyes aghast. "Mister Soarin!"

Soarin grimaced woefully at the basket on the table. "She actually was being kind to me, wasn't she? This morning - Applejack said she wanted to talk me about something over dinner. She vaguely mentioned something about the Ponyville day celebration. If she wasn't planning to fire me, what then was she wanting to talk to me about?" Soarin turned and eyed the hat that he had knocked out of Applejack's hoof. She referred to it as his hat before asking him if he remembered... Remembered what exactly? The flummoxed stallion was becoming more confused by the second. Mystery after mystery continued to bombard him until his eye caught that glowing vial of purple fluid on the table. "What the hell happened last night?" He thought out loud.

"Only one way to find out, Ah guess," Apple Bloom replied before collecting the potion with a defiant look on her face. "But Ah ain't letting you have this potion now. Not until you promise to apologize to mah sister!"        

"Would you forgive me if you were her?"

"It's hard to say. Those are some rotten things you said. Ah can't believe you'd just blindside her like that!"

Chagrined, Soarin hung his head. "I'll tell her I'm sorry. I don't know if she'll accept my apology, but I'll tell her."

"Good boy," the filly said, and offered the potion with an extended hoof. 

Soarin stared at it indecisively. Did it even matter if he remembered? His life at this farm was over. What was the point?

Apple Bloom impatiently shook the glass vial around, swashing the fluid inside. "Do you want it, or not?"

The stallion's eyes narrowed in determination. He decided then that had to find out what happened. The mystery would haunt him for the rest of his life if he didn't. He accepted the vial and uncorked it with a pop. The fluid tasted so awful, It took several attempts to swallow it down. The retched flavor was enough to bring tears to his eyes.

"You don't find the taste to your liking?" Asked Apple Bloom.

"I was kinda hoping it would taste like grape," groused Soarin, scrunching his face as the foul aftertaste continued the assault on his senses.         

"Yeah, potions never taste good."

Soarin waited for something to happen. Was he just going to suddenly remember everything? He wasn't exactly privy to the ways of magic or science, so he didn't know what to expect.  After only a brief interval, a debilitating pain took him. The stallion doubled over on the table and panted. It felt like someone was reaching inside of his skull and molding his brain like wet clay. That's when all of his memories began to return. Soarin held his head with his hooves, as if to keep it from splitting apart. One after the other, events from the night before flowed into his mind, diminishing his amnesia. His vision blackened when the memory in its entirety returned to him - just as vividly as if he had experienced it stone cold sober.      



                    

Applejack sat back on her haunches only inches away from Soarin. Her face was so close to his that he could smell her breath. It was warm, and had a sweetness to it, like a festive mug of hot autumn cider. 

"Sugarcube," she purred with a seductive grin, her tone like honey dripping from her lips. "You. Promised. Me. A. Dance." 

Soarin found himself straining to see through the drunken haze that was his vision. "You..." He paused briefly as he hiccuped. "You... Why'd you come here? Yer not... At the party, how come not?"        

The mare leaned back and held her nose. It never ceased to amaze Soarin how his breath, when inebriated, could bring any romantic moment to a screeching halt. "Had a few drinks, Ah reckon?" She inquired.

Soarin covered his face like a bashful child and nodded with a smile of drunken idiocy.

Applejack's smile quickly dimmed into a disappointed frown. "Oh... So, Ah guess the dance is off, then?"

"Hey, I still got moves for days!" Soarin attempted a demonstration. Not even he knew what move from his repertoire he was trying to demonstrate, but he tried his damnedest to demonstrate it - which resulted in him falling face first on the ground. "How come you trip me?" He hiccuped. 

"Sugarcube, Ah didn't trip you. And you should probably get to bed." Applejack turned him over and lifted his head up with a hoof. "You gonna be okay?" she asked concernedly. "You don't look so well. What exactly did you drink?"

"The whishky in the bottle. Not taste so good, but hey, 'least it doesn't taste good."

"The whisky in the bottle?" Applejack turned her head and eyed Breaburn's bottle laying empty next to the wine container. "Sugar, that ain't whisky. That was moonshine!"

Soarin let out a belch. "I thought it tashted a bit shiny."

"You drank the whole dang bottle?" The farmer's voice became frantic. "We need to get you to a hospital!"

"I didn't drink the whole bottle, I only had one glass. Rest of it's in the bucket with the wine," Soarin explained. 

Applejack's face relaxed as a sigh of relief escaped her. "Oh, well good. Still though, moonshine's strong stuff. You should be more careful with your health."

"Ah, nopony cares 'bout my health. Not even me," Soarin chuckled.

The farmer stared at him, not sure what to make of his statement. "Hey, why do you think that? Ah'm sure you got family out there that cares about you."

Soarin snorted, restraining another laugh. "Wonderbolts were the closest thing to family I ever had. Ain't got no family now, sweet heart. So it's okay if I die."

"Hey, now don't go sayin' things like that! Is that why you got so drunk? Is it 'cause what that Spitfire lady said upset you?"

"She was simply stating the truth. I have no family. Families are... Well, I don't really know. Never had a real one. But they seem like they would be annoying to have. Always wanting to know where you are, how you're doing, caring about wheter you're alive or dead. All seems rather bothersome, if you'd ask me."

Applejack looked on him with sympathy. The way he was so blatantly trying to mask his pain was heartbreaking. "Hey, you know, if you're gonna be livin' here, yer just as good as family, so don't go around thinking you don't have anyone who cares for you." Her sad expression brightened into a smile as an idea came to her. Applejack gently laid the stallion's head down and turned to approach the scarecrow in the corner. After retrieving its hat she returned to the indisposed Soarin, lifted him up again, and set the hat on his head. "There," she smiled. "If you're gonna be an Apple, you might as well look the part."  

"Why would you want me in your family?" Soarin groaned. "I'm kind of a screw up. I do nothin' but let everyone down. And I'm a screw up. Did I mention that? Also, I'm a screw up."

"A screw up?" AJ chuckled. "You was a lot of things when you made that fancy entrance on that stage, and a screw up wasn't one of em. You were wild, dangerous, exciting and fearless. The way you did all that just for Rainbow Dash's birthday party... It was so amazingly sweet of you! And Ah can't get over how cool you looked when you flew out of that explosion like a bat out of hell! Sugar, you were like a beast on wings! You - you were just amazing! You are the last pony Ah would call a screw up. " The mare's eyes were wild and exuberant as she recalled the aerial stunt. She almost looked like she was out of breath just from describing it.

Soarin tipped the brim of his hat upward and slurred, "I'm glad you liked the trick. Is that why you wanted to dance with me?"  

"Well..." The mare's emerald eyes darted away to avoid the awkward eye contact. "Ah just wanted to get to ya before some other mare could snatch you away. You did promise me a dance after all..." 

"I don't recall promising you a dance," Soarin mumbled drunkenly. "It was payment for the flight suit, wasn't it?"

"Hey, a deal is the same as a promise, so basically, you did in fact promise me that dance. What, you don't wanna dance with me no more?"  

"I didn't say that!" Soarin said defensively. "I was the one that wanted the dance in the first place, 'member?"

Applejack's mouth twitched with an amused smirk. "Out of anything you could have asked for - why exactly did you want a dance with me?"

"I dunno," Soarin smirked coyly. "Probably because a dance would be the perfect excuse to have my arms around you. You know, I was gonna quit this job after the first day, but then I saw you - lookin' all hot and stuff. Made me want to stay. Wanted to be around your hotness some more..." Soarin hiccuped again. "Did I mention that you're incredibly beautiful? And your voice is like audible sunshine..? And you're hot."

A look of embarrassment and surprise spread across the mare's face, which was practically incandescent upon hearing the stallion's declaration. "Oh," she said. "Th-thanks. Ah'm real glad y'all decided to stay." 

Soarin sighed. "It's a shame I won't get that dance."  

"You know, the Ponyville day celebration is coming up in a few days," Applejack stated nervously. She hesitated before speaking again. "I-If you want to dance with me so bad, maybe you can be mah date for..." Her words trailed off when a sharp breath of air escaped through Soarin's lips. His head sagged back, and his hat fell from his head. 

"Sugarcube, you okay?" 

The incapacitated stallion's voice came in a weak whisper. "Just... Tired..." 

"You know what? We'll talk about this tomorrow. You need some rest. Let me get yer blanket for ya."

Darkness engulfed Soarin's vision as he felt a warm hoof gently caress his face. He could feel a pair of lips brushing his ear. The sweet trill of her voice was just as gentle as any lullaby, like a mellifluous note that ferried him to his dreams.

"Sweet dreams, cowboy."    





Soarin's eyes fluttered open as he came to. He lifted his head off the table and groaned.

"Are ya alright?" Apple Bloom asked, standing in the exact same place she had been when Soarin blacked out.

"Yeah. How long was I out?"

"Out? Yer eyes were only closed for a couple seconds."

"Oh." Soarin looked around the barn and noticed that hat he had disregarded with such disdain. 

"Are you feeling okay?"                    

"Yeah, I just..." Soarin began to answer her, but his thoughts escaped him as he got up to retrieve his hat. He brought it back the table with him and just stared at it, his eyes moist with sorrow and regret. "I can't believe I said all those things to her. She was so kind to me. She even went as far as to tell me I was family. I don't understand how she could just accept me like that. I'm a stranger here. I'm not even an earth pony. The only thing I've managed to do thus far is return her kindness with suspicion and scorn."

Apple Bloom looked curiously at the hat and offered, "You don't have to be flesh and blood to be family."

Soarin rotated the hat and caressed the edge of the brim with his hoof. "Then, what is family?"    

"Well, Granny always told me that family is both the most precious thing you could have, and the worst thing to lose."

The thoughtful Pegasus placed the hat on his head and adjusted it. He was surprised by how well it fit. "But what if it's something you never had in the first place?"

The filly shrugged. "It's something you could always gain, Ah guess. A relative is someone you're merely related to, but family can be anyone who's willing to love you unconditionally - and support you even during the worst of times."

Soarin sighed, removed the hat from his head, and looked at it as if it were a precious treasure. "Kid, there would have been a time when I would have heard those words and disregarded them as a load of mawkish, cloying nonsense. You know, the kind of sugary shit that gets printed on a cheap greeting cards? But I think I'm starting to understand. Family." He set the hat back on his head and, with his lantern in hoof, he strode to an old antique mirror that was propped up against a wall. He wiped away the surface of dust with a few strokes of his leg and examined the stallion in the mirror.

The hat was worn and beaten, shabby, torn, and faded. Strangely enough, Soarin liked it. Its blemishes gave it character. He had cast it aside without so much as giving it  second glance, even abused it on a few occasions, and yet, it fit him perfectly, as if it had been made just for him.      

Apple Bloom eyed him inquisitively. "Is that the scarecrow's hat?"

"Nope," Soarin smiled at the rugged appearance his hat gave him. "It's mine."   

"Huh," the redhead mused, "It actually looks kinda good on ya. Gives ya a bit of a roguish appeal."

"You think so?" Soarin gazed once more into his reflection and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Roguish," he said to himself. "I like it. This hat and I understand each other, I think. It speaks for me just as well as I can speak for it. It's not only an accessory, but my own personal metaphor." He removed the hat and balanced the brim on his hoof. "And it's a precious token, given to me by none other than..." Soarin found himself struggling just to get her name past the solid lump in his throat. "Applejack..." A cramp gnawed at his belly as he said her name. He could feel a feverish desire consuming him. Soarin set the hat back on his head, the mirror in front of him informing him of how red his face was becoming.             

"Why did Applejack give you that dirty old hat?" Apple Bloom asked.

"It's a long story," offered Soarin. "I need to see her. I need to apologize. I can't believe how stupid I've been this whole time! I've done nothing but complain, and whine, and mope around." He turned and approached the door, clad in his new accessory, armed with new-found confidence. "My life isn't going to improve simply because I wish it to. It's about time I stop acting like a victim and grow a freaking pair already!"

"Hey, don't leave me in this creepy place all alone!" Apple Bloom exclaimed before hopping down from the table and following the stallion outside. Once she had caught up to him, walking at a brisk pace, she asked, "what are you gonna say to her?"

"I'm going to tell her I'm sorry, and then I'm going to prostrate myself before her and grovel for the honor of being her escort for the Ponyville day celebration."

"What? You? Date mah sister?"

"You say that like there's something wrong with it."

"It's not wrong, it's just weird. Yer a Wonderbolt. Yer supposed to date celebrities and super models and what not."

"I'm not a Wonderbolt. I'm a farmer. I'm a ranch hand. I'm no longer the pitiful, self-deprecating excuse for a stallion I was only moments ago. As far as I'm concerned, that Soarin is dead. I killed him!"

"You mind filling me in on why you've decided to make such a dramatic change?"

"I'll tell you later."

"Does it have something to do with last night?"

"Yes."

"What happened?"

"I'll tell you later."

"Stop saying that!"

"Stop asking then."

When the two arrived before the house, Soarin gestured to the second story windows and asked, "so, which one is your sister's?"

"It'd be the one on the right if yer facing it from the the barn. Mah brother's room is the next one over."

"Thanks, kid." Soarin unfurled his wings and hovered over the ground. "You should head on inside. You have school tomorrow."

"No way," the filly rebelled. "Ah gotta see what happens. Ah wanna see how this 'new an' improved' Soarin handles himself in a situation like this."

"You'll find out tomorrow."

"And how will Ah do that?"

"Whether I'm here or not should be a good indication of what transpired."

"But Ah wanna see!"

"No, this is going to be awkward enough without feeling your eyes on me. Can't you just do this as a favor for me? Please?" 

"Oh, alright," the filly sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Just one more thing," Soarin said with a smile. "You've done more for me than you could possibly know. Thanks for the potion. That's quite an aptitude you have there. I know it's a little early to be thinking of this, but, If you ever seek to broaden your horizons and further your education in your craft - say - college?"

At this, the filly's ears twitched. She gawked at the stallion as if she wasn't sure she heard him correctly. "College? Me?"  

"And why not? You're a brilliant young mind. It's the least I can do to repay you. Consider all your expenses paid: housing, books, tuition, the whole package. Whatever school you wish to attend." 

Apple Bloom's eyes brightened with excitement. "E-even The Starswirl Academy in Trodingham?"

Soarin laughed. "You got some years ahead of you to plan for which school you'd like to attend. But sure, if you'd like to go abroad, I'll make it happen."

"You're actually going to do this for me?" The filly asked incredulously. "How?"

"Wonderbolt," was Soarin's vague answer.

"But you ain't a Wonderbolt no more! How are you gonna afford—"

"Kid, don't worry about it. Just trust me."

"But what if you end up leaving?"

"I said don't worry about it. Now, run along." Soarin pivoted in the air and faced Applejack's window, but before he could approach, he felt himself taking on the filly's additional weight when she leaped and threw her arms around him.

"Ah can't believe this!" The ecstatic filly exclaimed. "Ah'm gonna be the first in mah family to attend college!"

Soarin winced at the filly's vociferous display of gratitude. "Kid, be quite! AJ will hear you, and I haven't even thought of what I'm going to say to—" he froze when he heard the clatter of Applejack's bedroom window flying open.

"What the hay'r y'all doin' outside mah window at this time o' night!"

"Crap..." Soarin looked up to see Applejack's disapproving gaze cast down upon him. 

"Apple Bloom, you best get inside! It's way passed yer curfew, young lady!" The irate mare then pointed a hoof at Soarin. "And you!" She barked. "Ah thought Ah told you to scram, you barb-tongued, snake-eyed, cold-hearted cretinous varmint!"

Soarin flinched at the farmer's harsh words, but he knew full well he deserved them and more. He became lighter when Apple Bloom released him and fled toward the door. "Good luck, mister Soarin!" she tossed over her shoulder before entering the house.

Applejack was about to slam her window closed, but Soarin sped toward her and managed to hook a leg under the frame. "Applejack, I need to talk to y—"

"No! Ah tried talkin' to you, and we all now how well that worked!" The furious mare tried to force the window down, but Soarin held it open. It took all of his power to do so. He couldn't help but marvel at the brawn of this mare, who was merely half his size.

"Please!" He grunted through his clenched teeth. "Just listen to me. Five seconds. that's all. If you could grant me just this one boon!" His arms shook violently against the window frame. Every second was taxing to him, and he felt like his strength could fail him at any second.                                                                                             

The mare finally let the window go and huffed, her face red from the exertion. Soarin couldn't be sure if she was granting him the time he was pleading for, or if she had simply given up on trying to over power him. "Five seconds," she managed through her labored breathing. "That's all you get."

Even with her face red, her eyes burning with fury, she was beautiful. Soarin gazed at her, catching his breath. He really wished he had more time to rehearse what he was going to say to her. His new found affection for her burned with an overwhelming force, leaving him bereft of words. Just looking into those furious emeralds kindled his passion in a way that no mare ever could.

"What is it already!" She barked impatiently.

"I... I..." Soarin trembled. He couldn't speak. Where was all that confidence he had a while ago? "Applejack... I'm — I can't even begin to — I'm so — it was a misunderstanding. I — please. I'm sorry. Those things I sad. I didn't mean them. I wasn't thinking straight."

"Sorry 'bout what, exactly?" Applejack asked. "The part about throwing mah kindness back in mah face? Callin' me a liar? Or the part when you called me a whore?" There was a weakness in her eyes then - a chink in the armor of rage she set up about herself that allowed a single tear drop through. That was the part that hurt Soarin the most. It made the stallion panic. Just making her angry wasn't enough, but he had to make her cry, too?

"I never called you a whore!" He insisted. "I just - kinda - compared you to one..." He bit down on his lip, regretting the statement.  

The mare's expression heated with renewed outrage. "So what? You thought you'd just come here, wearing that hat, thinking you was gonna charm me into forgetting those things you said? Yer five seconds are up, cowboy!" She scowled fiercely as she slammed the window and drew the curtains. 

Not knowing what else to do, the desperate stallion placed his hooves on the window and rested his forehead against the glass, which pushed the brim of his hat down and concealed his eyes. "Applejack, please. Tell me what I need to do. I'll do anything to make you forgive me." The solid lump forming in his throat was making it harder for him to speak without sobbing. He resisted the urge to bang on the window until she opened it again. That would only infuriate her further. 

After a few minutes had passed, he finally sighed and descended to the ground below, twisting around and landing with his back against the wall. He sat with his head down, his hat obscuring his face as he considered his options. He couldn't just give up. This was the one thing he refused to let defeat him. The old him would have been in hotel room by now, drinking and sulking himself to sleep. But not this time. There had to be a way through this.

Soarin pulled his tears back, and he relaxed so he could brainstorm more effectively.

perhaps, he thought, I could buy her a diamond. A big, red diamond, as large as an apple... No, a giant ruby cut in the shape of an apple, with an emerald leaf attached to a platinum stem. Soarin liked the idea at first, but he dismissed it after he had considered the kind of girl Applejack was. She didn't seem to value shiny, overpriced trifles in the way that the shallow mares he had dated would. Applejack valued practical things like tools and equipment, but he couldn't just buy her a shovel or a wrench. That would be weird. 

He removed his hat and ran a hoof through his shaggy mane. Think, think, think. What does Applejack value above all else? What would she appreciate more than anything? Soarin sighed and lifted his head. He gazed out at the orchards - that seemingly endless ocean of apples. A smile crept along his face as the answer came to him. She values hard work above anything else! He sprang to his hooves with a determined grin. Applejack's forgiveness was something that he would not purchased through useless pretties, or cheap words, but with the sweat of his brow. If he could harvest enough apples - a lot of apples - a ridiculous amount of apples - maybe, just maybe she'll forgive him...                                





Soarin thought of how he would go about his mission as he devoured the food from the basket. He knew that if he was going to do this kind of work, he needed needed his strength, and he was starving. The ravenous stallion consumed both portions that Applejack had brought him. He didn't even bother with cutting wedges out of the pie. He simply removed it from the pan and devoured it whole. Everything save for the soup from the thermos had turned cold. He would have preferred to eat everything while it was still fresh, but he was weak from hunger, and beggars couldn't be choosers. Soarin wiped his mouth and flushed it all down with his last beer.

With one final gulp, he set the bottle down, then stared into his lantern, pondering over how he would accomplish his job. He could try to buck the apples, but he was likely to injure himself. His fragile Pegasus bones and lack of kicking strength that the Apples had honed through years of farm labor was definitely an issue. "There has to be another way," he mused. "Simply picking the apples individually will take forever." He stroked his chin and hummed to himself. Brute physical strength was simply not his specialty. He was a Pegasus, an ex-Wonderbolt; speed and precision was what he was good at. How could he utilize that?

His eyes scanned the wall until they caught a glimpse of the the scythe's blade in the lantern light. It gave him an idea; a strange idea, but an idea none the less. 

He got up and approached the bladed implement, Inspecting it curiously as it hung from its nail. He took it from the wall and weighed it in his arms before gripping the shaft firmly, giving it an experimental swing. It swished through the air, flashing in the moonlight that peaked through the large hole overhead. "Speed and precision," he smiled as he caressed the flat side of the blade with an approving nod. The idea he had was unorthodox, but it would have to do.

With his hat on his head, the handle of the lantern in his mouth, and his scythe in his arms, Soarin sped toward the orchards, eager to apply his new idea into practice. The scythe-wielding stallion landed at the outer age of the orchard's boarder and searched around.

He picked a random tree, as any would do, and he placed the lantern at its base so that he could see what he was doing. With scythe in hoof, Soarin swung at a particularly low-hanging apple and liberated it from its stem. Careful not to butcher the tree, he swung again, and again, until he was able to cut down several apples with only one swing. 

He took his lantern and moved on to the next tree. He couldn't help but nick a branch here or there, or slice a few apples in twain, but they were acceptable losses. Besides, they'd grow back. With every reaping sweep, Soarin's precision with the blade improved. By the time the second hour was rolling around, it was as if the scythe was but an extension of his body. He poured all of his strength and focus into his labor, thinking of nothing else. By the time the third hour came, Soarin handled himself with the grace, speed and proficiency of a furious tornado of flashing blades. With only three or four revolutions, he'd stop and watch with a satisfied grin as every piece of fruit dropped and hit the ground. He laughed. This was actually kinda fun. He moved on to the next tree, then the one after that, then the one after that, until he finally realized that he had been forgetting to collect the fruit he had cut down. 

This was the part he didn't particularly care for. Soarin had to locate the wagon, hitch it, then painstakingly pull it into the orchards. Collecting the apples off the ground and filling the barrels in the heavy cart was tedious, but it had to be done. Lifting the barrels onto his back and hauling them down into the apple cellar one-by-one was the hardest part of the job. The exhausted stallion was soaked in sweat by the time he had stored the final barrel, but he refused to take a break. If he were to lay down as exhausted as he was, he wouldn't want to get back up, so he trudged on. He filled the cart with the empty barrels near the entrance to the cellar and put his scythe to use once more.

About two carts amounted to a full day's work, but after he had stored the barrels from his second load, he decided that wasn't enough. He needed to work until he couldn't work anymore. Thoughts of Applejack and his desperation to prove himself to her fueled him through the night, pushing himself beyond the physical limits of his weaker former self. Even when he took a nasty tumble down the stairs when he lost his balance, he refused the urge to lay there and rest his eyes. Soarin forced himself up to his hooves and persisted with his task. 





The rooster in the distance finally crowed, it's shrill cry bringing with it the early light of the new day. 

Soarin's blood shot eyes snapped open. He had fallen asleep some how. How long he had been resting, he couldn't be sure. He panicked. "Oh, no... No, no, no, no, no!" Any minute now, Applejack would come out and discover that he hadn't left. He doubted that he had harvested enough apples to appease her. His legs trembled violently as he was just barely able to muster enough strength to lift his weight. His head pounding, his vision blurry, and his flesh so hot, the vapor from his sweat released tendrils of blurred air, he retrieved his scythe in a desperate attempt to make up for the time he had lost sleeping. Soarin tried to fly, but his wings wouldn't lift him. They were too sore. He tried to swing the scythe out as far as he could without the need of his wings, but he only succeeded in missing his target and lopping off a branch. He grunted in frustration as he tried again, but he missed the tree entirely, and the shaft slipped from his grip, sending the blade flying into a different tree. Soarin tried to free the blade from the trunk, but he simply lacked the strength. The exhausted stallion panted and huffed as he desperately threw his body weight backwards in a vain attempt to free the embedded blade, but it was too late. He heard Applejack's voice approaching. 

"You!" Applejack exclaimed. "Did you do all of this!"

"All of... What?" Soarin panted, his spent mind too exhausted to form a coherent sentence. He squinted at her through his blurry vision.

The mare stopped when she was finally close enough for him to see. "What did you do? Have you been out here all night?"

Big Mac's voice could be heard from somewhere, but Soarin couldn't see him. "Sis, Ah did a quick run around."

Applejack turned to face him. "What did ya find?"

"Every tree for about eight acres is completely bare."

"Eight acres!" Applejack's head whipped around. She gawked at Soarin, her eyes wide with astonishment.

"Cousin," Braeburn called out, but again, Soarin was unable to see anything that wasn't right in front of him. "Ah took inventory of the cellar for ya. Every barrel and crate down there is completely full! Greenhorn, did you have somethin' to do with this?"

Both stallions came into view, eyeing Soarin incredulously along with Applejack.

Soarin's labor-induced fever cooked his brain, making him delirious. He didn't know where he was anymore. He looked all around, but he could not obtain his bearings. He began to mutter unintelligibly.   

Applejack approached, her expression impassive. "Are you okay?"

Soarin babbled once more in response before the ground came rushing up to meet him.