The evening Rainbow and Applejack spent together was one they’d never forget. With the disgust of unfamiliar eating habits pushed to the backs of their minds, they were free, or as free as they could be, to enjoy the night. They enjoyed the stars, glowing through the deep indigo sky, as if they were light sneaking through a tattered sheet. They enjoyed the wind, rustling through their manes and tails and brushing over the grass.
Rainbow's eyes weren't quite tearless, but with Applejack's admission came a certain degree of content, regardless of their differences. For tonight, it'd be enough, she thought. Just for tonight.
After clearing the air and stating what they meant to each other, conversation didn't feel as important. What needed to be said had been said, after all, and whilst Rainbow commented on her job in a good-natured, if somewhat grumpy, manner, Applejack merely listened to her. She rested her head on one hoof, and in order to ignore what it was Rainbow was eating, let herself be enraptured in her mundane, fascinating life of flying, clouds, and unhappy co-workers.
And then they left. They paid their bill and trotted away, Rainbow's wing confining Applejack in a steel trap of comfort and affection.
It must have been close to midnight when they got to the edge of the orchard. Both their eyes were beginning to drift closed as the day began to catch up with them.
"You said you'd play the harmonica," Rainbow said, resting her head against Applejack's neck, the sweetness of their contact only making her more tired.
Applejack didn't reply, but pulled the gift out and brought it to her lips. She paused, reflecting on which song to play. A decision was made, and then she began.
Rainbow wasn't able to guess which song it was, nor how it was played. She knew only that it was soothing, quiet, relaxing and organic. It conjured images of napping at sunset and the smell of old trees.
They walked, slowly, under the cover of the moon, down the track to the house, Rainbow supporting her just enough for her to play unhindered. After five, maybe ten minutes, the song died out. Still in the claws of fatigue, Rainbow gave a muffled groan, and sank into Applejack's side more than ever.
"Hey, just stay awake a while longer, will you?" Applejack asked, shifting her weight to support Rainbow. "We're just five minutes away."
Rainbow didn't reply, and despite Applejack's best efforts, she began to slide off her towards the ground. Applejack felt Rainbow's wing loosen its grip. Concern stabbed at her, and she turned to look at Rainbow, sharp adrenaline taking hold.
Rainbow was not merely asleep. Stuck in her side, ugly and terrifying, was a pitchfork.
Silent in a vacuum of surprise and horror, Applejack let Rainbow tumble to the ground, limp and bleeding.
Midnight was the perfect time for a scream. When Applejack cried for help, her voice strained to allow for unprecedented volume, everypony who heard rushed to help.
Twilight's eyes still hurt from staring into... whatever it was the book had shown her. With sleep deprivation added to the mix, it wasn't a surprise she had developed heavy grey bags that hung under her eyes. It must be close to one in the morning, she thought. She recognized the emptiness of the streets and the singular silence of the houses that only came with a the dead of night from her time as a student in Canterlot.
Even the biggest cities slept eventually. A lifetime of all-nighters had taught Twilight that.
The hospital was never quite asleep, though. It dozed, perhaps. It dozed in the same way one might whilst travelling. Its eyes were closed, but it knew that when its stop came, it could get up and move, and catch the next train. So to speak.
Twilight hovered outside Rainbow's room. It didn't look like it got much use. It was a room for ponies in critical condition, and whether it was by blind luck or extreme caution, most ponies avoided ever seeing the inside of it. Even Rainbow, with all her dangerous stunts, had only ever suffered broken bones. She had never lost large quantities of blood. Twilight gave the door a gentle push, opening it so it was ajar.
At least she was stable. If Applejack hadn't gotten her to the hospital with her brother as quick as she did, she might not have been so fortunate.
The mare was inside, barely awake, her forehead resting on the side of the bed Rainbow lay on. Her eyes were closed, like she was asleep, but her breathing indicated otherwise. It lacked the peace of sleep, the calm. One hoof had found its way around Rainbow's own, and never moved, even though Applejack herself might shift her weight to make herself comfortable. Contact between the two was always maintained, without exception or faltering.
Rainbow herself was asleep. Whilst her expression was far from content, her breathing was slow and docile, and each muscle was limp and relaxed. Twilight regretted not knowing more about medical science, but from the quantity of machines the damaged pegasus was hooked up to, much more had gone wrong than simply losing blood. Bandages were wrapped around her waist where the pitchfork had penetrated her body, and four dots of red had begun to show on the white linen where the blood had leaked out before coagulating.
Twilight crept into the room, quiet as to not disturb Rainbow's rest.
"I know you're there," Applejack muttered, her eyes drifting open and settling on Twilight's own. "I ain't asleep."
"I could tell," Twilight replied. "I came as soon as I heard."
"Who told you?"
"One of the nurses. Rainbow listed me as someone to contact if she got injured."
Applejack frowned. "Not that I ain't glad to see you, but why?"
"In her words, it was because 'if Rainbow got stuck in a canyon, she wanted someone who could teleport her out and turn rocks into sandwiches'."
Applejack gave Twilight a wry smile. "Sounds about right." She sighed. "She damaged several of her vitals, including a lung. If the pitchfork had gone an inch deeper, she'd have lost her heart."
"Are you all right?" Twilight asked.
"We had a fight, before she had her accident. It was about her eatin' fish," Applejack went on, oblivious to Twilight's question. Twilight raised an eyebrow at the mention of 'fish'. "It's a pegasus thing, apparently. I weren't happy, and she weren't happy I weren't happy. We agreed to let it drop until tomorrow." Applejack looked up at the clock. "I mean, today. But if she hadn't..." Applejack went quiet, taking a deep breath to calm her wayward thoughts. "...I just really want to get over that. Y'know? And I almost couldn't."
"Are you all right?" Twilight repeated, her concern for Applejack growing. Applejack shrugged.
"I dunno'. I'm tired, and maybe I'm overreacting. She's gonna' be fine, after all. That's what's important," she said. "On the other hoof, Rainbow's been havin' more and more accidents lately. Bruises. Falls. Some tiling fell on her head only today. She told me my farm was becoming a death-trap." Applejack looked deep into Twilight's eyes. "And I swear on my life, that pitchfork weren't there when I left the farm. I put it away. I put it away."
Twilight frowned. "Are you sure you're not just imagining things?"
Applejack shook her head, and brushed Rainbow's mane aside to reveal a bruise she got from earlier that day. "I thought she was just clumsy. But no way that pitchfork was left there, and even if it was, it shouldn't have gotten her that badly."
Twilight narrowed her eyes.
She hesitated.
I suppose it's time to use what I've learned...
Her horn flickered as she conjured up the spell in her mind, the idea of what should happen. Applejack frowned, disturbed by the use of magic.
"What're you doin'?" she asked.
"The same thing the crystal table did to you six months ago. I'm examining her magic."
"You mean I didn't have to lie on that table?"
"No, you did. I hadn't learned how to do this back then." She started to scan Rainbow's unconscious body. "The book showed me how."
Applejack couldn't quite remember what book Twilight meant, even if it prodded at her memory. Instead of continuing the discussion, she let her friend continue her spell, observing her all the while.
Twilight's expression began to turn from curious to concerned. Then, from concerned, to alarmed.
"What's wrong?" Applejack asked.
"What's wrong?" Twilight asked. "What isn't wrong?!"
Ponies say sometimes that life isn't fair. This is, in fact, a gross assumption. Hundreds of years hence, an ancestor of the Apple family saw an apple drop from a tree (as Apples are wont to notice). Whilst the conclusions he drew from the event were very different, if he had paused a minute, he would have reflected that the apple falling was very fair indeed. It was too heavy, its stalk was too weak. So it fell. The apple may not want to fall (since falling often implies stopping, abruptly) but in the grand scheme of things, it was only fair.
The rules of life are intertwined with the rules of physics, and physics is well known for being, on the whole, consistent. Just because you didn't read the rules doesn't mean they weren't there.
Magic, on the other hand, has nothing to do with life whatsoever. And it is incredibly unfair.
Within the context of Applejack and Rainbow Dash's relationship, an educated individual might even say magic was being a Real Bitch.
"It's the same thing that's been affecting you," Twilight explained once they had left the hospital room. "The magic inside her is acting up, thinking that it's not natural for the pair of you to be together. Except instead of mixing pegasus and Earth pony up, it's gone really wrong... and has begun to actively attack her whenever she's near where you live."
As they walked through the corridors, Applejack was completely, and utterly silent. Her expression didn't betray even a hint of emotion.
"I need to get back to my Castle... maybe the Pursuit Informatio can help. In fact..." Twilight went on, before trailing off. She shook her head. "Never mind. That's just a theory."
"The book that knows everything?"
Twilight nodded. "Yes. That one."
"I remember it now. Couldn't quite put my hoof on it before."
"There's a problem, though."
Applejack frowned. They left the hospital, trotting at a brisk pace towards the centre of town. "Like what?" she asked, evidence of frustration plain as day on her face.
"I... I read the book too much," Twilight said. "I accidentally asked the wrong thing, and it trapped me in a paradox of what could be, and what couldn't. Spike managed to save me, and then I... threw up a billiard ball. And I couldn't stop saying words beginning with 'B' until I had a lie down."
Twilight felt Applejack grab her by the wing, spinning her around until they were face to face, nose to nose. Twilight was given a perfect, unobstructed view of each line on Applejack's face, each twisted muscle, contributing to a face that would have made any Princess flinch.
"Are you joking?" Applejack growled, her voice deeper than any stallion's. "You threw up a billiard ball because you read a book too much?!"
Twilight swallowed. Applejack's grip tightened. "No, I'm not... listen, I know you're upset..."
"Upset is for Rainbow forgetting to do the dishes," Applejack snapped. "Angry is for ponies yanking my chain. But you tellin' me that my special somepony is in the hospital, almost dead, because I did her the disservice of loving her, and you're here yammering about words beginnin' with 'B' and magic and stuff I don't understand..."
"Applejack!" Twilight exclaimed. "You're hurting me!"
Applejack released Twilight's wing, and took a few steps back. Her expression was no less angry than before. No less pained. Twilight nursed her wing where Applejack had nearly crushed the blood from it.
Unable to control herself, Applejack finally screamed. No... roared. Whereas her cries for help earlier had been desperate, the kind nopony could ignore, this was something that would send even the bravest group of ponies into a panic.
She roared until she was hoarse.
She reared and stomped until the ground began to break under her hooves.
She shook and trembled and clenched her teeth until she was all out of energy.
Then she stopped, and stood. Panting.
"Are you done?" Twilight asked.
Applejack took a deep breath.
"Yeah. I'm done."
The Castle, which was never full of activity to begin with, felt lifeless. Spike was asleep, upstairs, unaware of the events of the evening. Twilight hadn't the heart to wake him.
Sitting on the table, even the Pursuit Informatio looked asleep. It was less a matter of observing changes across its cover and pages, since books were not prone to having expressions or body language, but more an impression it gave. Applejack looked at the book and compulsively thought: that book looks asleep.
But when Twilight's hoof brushed its covers... then it looked electrified. Alive.
"I don't really know what will happen, since all this is just a theory I concocted this evening," Twilight explained. "So, I'm going to try explaining it. If you don't want to do it, there's always the alternative."
"Which is?" Applejack asked.
Twilight bit her lip. "You'll have to stop seeing Rainbow Dash," she said. Applejack turned away, and stared at the book, pensive.
"Y'know, we only just admitted we loved each other," she said in a soft, quiet voice. Twilight ran her hoof through her mane.
"I know it'll be hard..." she began, but Applejack interrupted her.
"Not in the slightest. It just makes leavin' her easier," she explained. "If my bein' near her nearly killed her, I'll gladly never see her again. I'd happily get a restrainin' order for her, set up traps in my trees, or even leave Ponyville if it means keepin' her away from me."
Twilight nodded. "I... see. Well, I'll explain what I'm doing... or rather, what I'm trying... anyway. It might not come to that." She held up the Pursuit. "This isn't just an ordinary book. It was a notebook, or rather, a reference book used by ponies of ancient times." Twilight paused, waiting for Applejack to catch up. "The ponies of old were far smarter than us. Exponentially so. This book was such a cheap trick to them it wouldn't even garner a footnote in their history. But today, now... it's an item of incredible, unfathomable power."
Applejack nodded. "I follow so far."
"The ponies of old had ways with words we simply cannot compare to. Instead of simply translating meaning into words, they translated information that was not known at the time into words. They had figured out how to, quite literally, exploit a weakness in how our universe worked. The universe is as close to infinitely big as we can get... and at first they struggled. But then they decided the make the universe smaller. They took an infinitely small piece of it and stored it in writing." Twilight tapped the book. "Right here."
"But you said the universe is infinitely big. How big is an infinitely small piece of something infinitely big?"
"About the size of this book, apparently."
"Ah."
"The way I understand it... and to be honest, I probably don't... the book in itself is a paradox. And when you ask it a question it cannot properly answer, that paradox unravels and shows itself for what it truly is. Strands of the fabric of the universe, stored on paper, where entire worlds can exist merely by stringing a couple of sentences alongside each other."
Applejack frowned. "And this helps us how?"
"Well, I think that if we can get at strands of the universe, we... you might be able to... hotwire it, I guess. 'Fix' it to include both you and Dash, together."
Applejack breathed outwards. "That sounds dangerous."
"It probably is. On the off chance that the world as we know it implodes, I'll make a point of recording that in my lab book."
"Will that help?"
"It's a coping mechanism."
"And how will I know how to... fix the universe?"
"I'm hoping that'll sort of become obvious when you get there," Twilight said. "If I go, I'll probably die. Instantly. I've been exposed to it once, and if I go in again, I don't think the universe will be kind to me. With a bit of luck, if you're expecting what awaits you, maybe you'll have a chance of manipulating it somehow."
"And what am I expectin'?"
"In a word, everything. Just... try to focus on the idea of everything."
Twilight opened the book and placed it in front of Applejack. "So, um... if you don't want to do this, that's fine. I don't think I'd want to either."
Applejack shrugged. "What's it going to do, make me unhappy?" she asked. "Because that's my alternative."
"Actually," Twilight replied, "I suspect the alternative is two unhappy ponies." She tapped the pages. "Just ask the book what you'll do in five minutes. That worked for me, at least. I'll pull you away from the book in six."
Applejack peered down at the pages. There were words there, but they didn't seem to be any she recognized. And yet... They all had a meaning she could instantly understand.
"These are strange..." she commented, feeling her eyes get drawn in, fall into the book, as if it were the most engrossing thing in the world. The words became all she could see, all she could feel, all she could smell... You couldn't smell words, could you? Applejack swallowed. "Okay, uh... book. Tell me what I'll be doin' in five minutes."
The words moved. The words shifted. But wait... no. They didn't move, Applejack realized, she just thought they did. In fact, she was thinking an awful lot just then. Meaning and knowledge was getting downloaded into her brain without going through any of her senses. Her eyes couldn't read the words, she couldn't touch them, she couldn't do anything to them, but they were there, screaming inside her skull, and they were taking over.
But what were they saying? What...
Applejack's consciousness dropped into the book, leaving her actual self behind.
The universe, as Twilight was able to prove with the help of some cleverly thought out questions, was rather similar to a rubber band. Had she been the romantic sort, she might have found something else that also fit that metaphor, broadly speaking.
Had she thought to ask how love drew a pony from one side of the room to the other without them seemingly moving, she might have guessed. Had she asked why, when one pony left their loved one, the other one hurt, she might have known.
Applejack, whilst still technically in Twilight's Castle, was very much someplace else. And Rainbow felt the sting of her absence keenly. It wasn't a pain that was felt through nerves, or even through anything physical, but it hurt. And it woke her up.
"Applejack..." she muttered through her breathing mask.
Before any doctor or nurse had the time to notice she was awake, she had gotten to her hooves, one wing clutched around her injured side. And when they did notice, she was already roaming the halls, desperately wanting, needing, craving to find the other end of her own shared rubber band.
"Huh. This feels strange."
Rather, it was not a feel so much as something she accepted as knowing. Applejack didn't really feel anything at present. She wasn't even sure there was an Applejack. She was just... a piece of a bigger piece, if that made sense.
"I can talk, though," she said. "Does that mean we can have a conversation?"
The general consensus around her was that a conversation was not out of the question. Applejack wasn't sure how she was supposed to discuss anything with what she could best describe as 'all', though.
That didn't mean she wouldn't try.
"I want to talk about Rainbow Dash," Applejack said. "Now, I'm gettin' the impression you... whatever you are... have an objection or two regardin' my love life."
The universe made Applejack understand that 'it' was 'everything'. Applejack reasoned that it was only able to do this because she was a part of 'everything', so logically, she already knew that.
Or something along those lines.
"So, I'm going to get to the point, since I only have six minutes—"
The universe politely pointed out that, being infinity, it had all the time it needed.
"That's awfully odd. Twilight said you were an infinitesimally small piece of infinity."
Well, if she wanted to be picky, then yes, it was somewhat smaller than the real deal, but no less potent. Stop complaining and start talking.
"Okay. To business: me and Rainbow Dash ain't any of your concern. So you stay out of it," Applejack snapped. "That means no pitchforks, and while you're at it, let me buck apples properly again. I'm bettin' you're behind that, too."
All around her, everywhere, Applejack knew the universe was laughing at her. If she wanted to date somepony and not have to deal with the consequences, she should have picked a more suitable candidate.
"Oh yeah? Like who?"
Perhaps an Earth pony. She looked like she'd suit a big, dumb stallion who chewed hay all day and put food on the table, despite not knowing the ins and outs of basic culinary science. That was the pattern her family had followed, after all. The Apples always married Earth ponies.
"No thanks. I ain't interested. I don’t tell everypony this, but I’m actually pegasexual."
Well, that was her own damn fault, wasn’t it? She'd just have to deal with pitchforks, wouldn't she?
"What is this, the dark ages? We don't deal with problems with torches and pitchforks no more. And I ain't leavin' until you give me a fair trial."
This wasn't a trial. This was merely Applejack being brought up to speed on how things would be, because they had always been that way. Country ponies like her married big handsome stallions with very little brains, didn't do much thinking and would have a couple of foals, not too many, not too much, and be very happy with that arrangement. They would, under no circumstances, be attracted to mares, who were also a completely different species and wanted completely different things out of life.
That would just be stupid. And disorganized.
"What if I'm not happy with that arrangement?"
Then she probably wasn't going to be happy with that arrangement.
"Surely you can do better."
Everything that could be done on the matter had already been done. Rationalization didn't work: despite trying very, very hard, Applejack simply refused to become a pegasus.
"Yeah, well, I had to buck apples! I'm an Earth pony! It's what I'm good at!"
Well, perhaps if Applejack hadn't been so persistent and unable to adapt, maybe Rainbow wouldn't have had to suffer quite so many accidents.
"So let me get this straight: if I become a pegasus, you'll let me be?"
Oh no. This little situation has gone far beyond such easy remedies now. Besides, she could never grow wings. Physics and logic still had rules that had to be observed: they were already being bent quite enough as it was.
"Then you've got to let me stay with Rainbow!" Applejack argued. "Without killin' her."
If Applejack gave up such foalish ideas, her life would be much easier. How much trouble had that pegasus brought her? If she simply dated an Earth pony stallion instead, she could even have foals. Applejack wanted foals... and she wouldn't even need her partner to lay eggs to get them.
"I don't care. If it's not with Rainbow, it doesn't matter."
Then Applejack was doomed. Disappointment was her only option.
Twilight took a look at the large crystal clock hanging on the wall. Quarter to two. In three minutes, she thought to herself. Three more minutes...
Staggering inside the chamber, half awake and barely alive, came Rainbow Dash, bandaged and bleeding and very, very determined.
Twilight wasn't sure what to think. Should she be impressed, or should she panic?
"Rainbow!" she exclaimed, getting to her hooves.
"Applejack..." grunted Rainbow. "Wh..."
She saw the book, and she saw Applejack. Twilight held up her hooves. "Listen, you really shouldn't be moving. I'm not even sure how you got here in your state..."
"Walked," Rainbow replied. "... Hurts..."
"I imagine it does," Twilight said, but Rainbow cut her off.
"Not that. Applejack..." Rainbow approached her partner silently, her mouth dry as she followed her gut feeling, a sensation so subtle yet so strong she couldn't help but be drawn to it. "Have to help..."
She peered into the book.
"I still ain't leavin'," Applejack snapped, her temper rising.
Just like that, she was no longer alone.
"Oh, horseapples. This feels really, really, really weird," Rainbow said, arriving from everywhere yet nowhere. She simply existed among the all that surrounded them, much like Applejack, in fact.
"Rainbow?" Applejack asked, amazed. "What are you doing here?"
Rainbow shrugged. "No idea. I was kind of on drugs, like, five minutes ago. I still feel real bouncy," she said. "Well, not any more. I feel... uh, what's the word?"
"Weird."
Oh good, it seems it's going to be a party. Why don't you bring all your friends and have a big old pillow fight?!
"Who's this then?" Rainbow asked, gesturing towards everything.
"That's the universe... or, some small part of it, at least," Applejack replied. "You don't look injured no more."
"Yeah, I feel fine," Rainbow said. "Weird, huh?"
If Rainbow and Applejack are quite finished catching up...?
Both ponies turned towards... something. Neither pony was sure, exactly, but they both knew they turned towards the same thing.
"You're the thing that impaled me with a pitchfork?"
Guilty as charged. Although, really, this is all Applejack's fault.
"Don't go pointing hooves at AJ!" Rainbow quarrelled.
"Yeah! This is about you not knowing how to deal with us being together, whether you want it or not!"
Don't play innocent. What Applejack and Rainbow are in is everything: here, they are mere specks. Points of non-matter that don't even exist compared to the size and scale of all that is, was, will be, and might be.
"Yeah, and you know what?" Applejack said, a grin beginning to play her lips. "I think you don't know what these two speck being together in all this... all means."
Applejack will have to explain.
Applejack reached out towards Rainbow. "I mean that here we are, right splat bang in the fabric of the universe. Right where you make up the rules, right?"
Rainbow wrapped her own hoof around Applejack's. Together, they smiled... even though Rainbow wasn't entirely sure what at. She just liked holding hooves. The support was all Applejack needed.
"So really, when you get right down to it, what we do here are the rules, right? And look at us. Take a good, long look. We're here, in your rulebook, together, and there ain't a darn thing you can do to stop it."
This is not how it should be.
"We're hotwirin' the universe, sugarcube. I don't care how my family used to do things in the past. I ain't marryin' no stallion and havin' a couple of foals and bein' all pretty and stupid. I'm with Rainbow Dash, a pegasus mare, and maybe one day we'll have a couple of eggs, argue about fish and have a real life without havin' to worry about some stupid piece of everythin' that thinks it knows what's best for us and givin’ me splinters!"
"I'm missing loads of context," Rainbow said, "but I agree with all of that."
Applejack and Rainbow, side by side, hoof in hoof, drawn together by their own caring and happiness and trust and love and everything they were and are, stared down infinity. They stared it down with the same confidence only winners had, sure and certain that their happy ending was theirs, and that nothing could ever hope to take it away from them.
There is simply no arguing with their level of stubbornness.
And they stared it down until Twilight pulled them away from a book on fire with the burning each of them had in their hearts.
Applejack stumbled, once more in command of her nerves and her brain. She topped to the side, landing heavily on her ribs as she coughed and groaned, her stomach and intestines groaning and churning.
"Applejack!" Twilight exclaimed, kicking the charred remains of the book away. "Are you okay?!"
Applejack's stomach heaved, and rising up her throat and mouth spilled a whole bucketful of blueberries. "...Bluh!... Blueberries? But..."
She tried keeping her body under control, her hooves scrabbling against the pristine floor, trying to find purchase. She was a spider turned on its back, flailing her legs, utterly impotent. She could barely tell which way was up.
"Applejack! Stay still," Twilight shouted. "I need to help Rainbow! Don't... bite your tongue off or anything."
"...bite?" Applejack asked, her eyes rolling, trying to figure out what was what, like she was drunk. Finally, she found the one thing that mattered. A patch of clear blue, with colour streaming all around it.
Rainbow Dash had thrown something up too, but it was nothing nearly as benign as blueberries.
"Blood..." Applejack muttered, trying to crawl towards Rainbow and the pool of sticky red her head lay in. "B-bow..."
Twilight picked the mare up in a haze of magic, and looked over at Applejack. "This is why Rainbow listed me as a person to call in an emergency," she said, smiling faintly. "Please stay safe while I'm gone."
And then, Twilight blinked away, leaving behind nothing more than purple smoke and an Earth pony terrified she had gone through infinity and beyond to be with a pony who might die anyway.