//------------------------------//
// A family gained 
// Story: A Job With Benefits 
// by Boomstick Mick 
//------------------------------//

	The whirring of a ceiling fan ushered Soarin into consciousness, its cool and gentle breeze tugging gently at his mane with the tenderness of a light autumn wind. He felt the warmth of soft fabric over his body and a pillow under his head. His chest raised when he drew in a breath through his nostrils, and he released it slowly, a hum deeply resonating within his chest as his eyes fluttered open. 

Where was he..?

The sky beyond the window adjacent to the bed he was laying in was darkening - or so Soarin thought at first. He could hear birds chirping, roosters crowing, and the impatient chorus of the livestock awaiting their breakfast. The sun wasn't going down, Soarin realized. It was rising. He must have been in the Apple family house. It only required a cursory glance of the golden strands of hair tangled within the teeth of a brush on a nearby vanity to realize who's room he was in.

Soarin's head turned, and he discovered that his hat had been deposited on a night stand. The archaic brass alarm clock standing near it ticked with a rhythmic cadence. The old time piece's report was six fifty in the morning. Soarin reached out for his hat, dismayed that his arms burned so fiercely with such minimal effort. When he was finally able to retrieve it, he laid it upon his chest and admired it like the precious treasure that it was, gently tracing its brim with his hoof with an appreciative affection. It was almost funny to him. Soarin was accustomed to riches: Lavish penthouses with views of city skylines bathing in the reds and golds of the sunset, the finest imported wines, so expensive and rare, a single barrel could break the bank of any of those fops that mingled in the VIP boxes at the Wonderbolts' shows... But this - this torn, old, faded, worn head accessory was worth more to him than anything. 

Applejack, are you still mad at me? Have I been forgiven? You couldn't be too angry with me, if you still wanted me to have this hat, could you? The fact that she gave him her own bed to rest it was yet another factor in the situation. She could have hauled him off the property in a wagon and dumped his sleeping carcass in the nearest gutter, but she didn't. She could of bludgeoned him until he woke up only to demand that he leave, but she didn't. Soarin pushed himself up with his hooves, abdomen, arms and shoulders pumping acid with the exertion. He pushed his hat up on top of his head and looked around the room once more. What Applejack could have, should have, or might have done wasn't important. What was important was what she did do. He finally decided it was time to seek some answers.

Soarin limped down the hallway leading from Applejack's room, hobbled his way down the stairs, and found himself standing in the living area. The house seemed to be vacant. "Is anyone there?" Soarin paused, awaiting a reply. A light wind moaning through the eaves of the house was the only response. "Hello...?" 

A raucous, metallic clatter followed by a string of obscene southernisms emanated from the kitchen. Soarin's ears twitched. He approached the source of the noise. When he turned the corner and pushed open the swinging doors, he saw Granny Smith leaning down to recover a frying pan from off the floor. In front of her was the kitchen sink with steam rising from the hot, soapy water bubbling within the basin. "Granny?"  

The old mare dropped the pan into the sink with a bubbly sploosh before she turned to acknowledge him with an expression that was illegible to him. Soarin's heart began to race. Did she know about the incident between him and Applejack? What would she have to say to him?

The old matron received him with a warm smile and said, "Well, butter mah butt and call me a biscuit! Look who's decided grace me with his presence: Its the winged apple-harvesting machine, himself!"

Soarin smiled uncomfortably. "Uh, yeah, that's me, I guess..."

"Sit down dear, ah saved you some breakfast." She pivoted from the sink and approached the oven. "You must be starving after what you been through."

"I, uh... Yeah, I could eat." Soarin took a seat at the table, as he was instructed. Curious, yet cautious, he inquired as he settled into the groaning wood chair, "Did, uh - I don't suppose Applejack said anything to you about last night?" It wasn't the most tactful way to go about things, Soarin knew, but he had to know, and his somnolent brain wasn't formulating any other way to approach the subject.

"Last night?" The matriarch opened the oven door and reached inside to retrieve a tinfoil-covered plate. Balancing the porcelain dish on a hoof, she turned to regard Soarin with a sympathetic smile and said, "Sugarcube, you've been in bed for two days now."

"Two days!" The stallion's eyes went wide with consternation. "Applejack. Where's she been sleeping? Where is she right now? I had her bed for two whole days?"

"Don't you worry about that, sugarcube," Granny assured. "Applejack wanted to make sure you was comfortable. She's been coming home to check on you periodically."

"What do you mean she's been coming home 'periodically?'"

"Well, she, as well of the rest of us, have been so dang busy lately with all them apples you harvested. We've been working feverishly around the clock to get them delivered while they're still fresh. Since you've been bedridden, all she's had time to do when she gets home is check on you - 'fore she'd crash her tired little self on the couch."  

"Great." Soarin's hoof met with his face as he sagged back in his chair. "I practically called her a whore for the unforgivable crime of showing me some genuine kindness, then I claim her bed as my own..."

"What's that ya said?"

Soarin winced. "Nothing." Granny doesn't know... Applejack, I spurn you, and you respond by giving me your bed to sleep in? His brooding was brought to an abrupt halt when a plate steaming with cinnamon-baked apple slices crashed down on the table in front of him, causing him to jolt with a start. 

Granny Smith laughed. "Eat up, young'un. Get your strength back. Don't worry about work today. Just relax and recuperate."

Soarin looked down at the food, and his mouth began to water. He hadn't realized how hungry he was until the tantalizingly sweet aroma wafting from the baked fruit roused his senses. "I'm sorry I gave you guys so much work," he offered remorsefully, grabbing for a nearby fork. "I thought I was helping."

"And you did!" Granny insisted. "You nearly caught us up on our harvesting quota. Ah gotta be honest, Ah never thought you'd make it here. All Ah seen you do so far is just shamble around on yer hooves with a look on yer face like yer mare died on the same day yer dog ran off with another stallion...." The partially senile elder scratched her chin with a contemplating hoof. "Is that how the saying goes?" 

Soarin had to chuckle at that. 

Granny all but doted over the stallion as he ate breakfast. She couldn't seem to stop illustrating how appreciated he was around the farm and what a hard worker he was, and, strangely enough, she couldn't stop verbalizing her desire for him to share his feelings. "You know," she had imparted to him as he was eating, "we Apples pride ourselves on how close-knit our family is. We share everything with each other. If anything is ever bothering you, a shoulder, a hug, and an attentive ear is never far away."

She knows something, Soarin realized. "I'll keep that in mind, Granny." He forked another piece of baked apple into his mouth, when he noticed she was watching him intently. She definitely knows something... He set his fork down and reflected her assessing gaze back at her. "Granny, is there something you want to say to me?" he asked, though not unkindly.

Granny Smith finally sighed. "Ah'm sorry yer best friend walked out on you. Ain't hard to see why you never count on others for support. Between that, and those slanderous reports about you, you must be thinking that the whole world is against you right now... But Ah'm not." She then conducted Soarin's attention to a family portrait hanging on the wall in the living room. It could be seen just above the swinging double doors. "We're not," she added.

The memory of reading through that rag that Wave Chill had given him hit with the force of a wrecking ball, but it wasn't just the paper itself: Wave Chill abandoning him, Spitfire's parting rant, how she verbally gelded him, condemned him to a life of misery and failure, her not-so subtle rebuke at Rainbow Dash's birthday party. The shame and guilt he now bared for taking everything out on Applejack. He shot up from the table, his chair hitting the floor with a hollow, woody thud. "How did you--" was all he could manage before he winced in pain, the ache in his sore muscles pumping liquid fire throughout his body.

Granny's smile remained sweet and calm. "Friend o' yers came by yesterday. They said they was here wanting to set somethin' straight with ya, but after Applejack told em you was indisposed -- well, we just started asking about you. It wasn't right of us to pry in to yer affairs, but you left us no choice. You been here several days, and you've yet to divulge any information as to why you up and left such a prominent career to come be a farm hand."

"I told you why I came to work here!" Soarin replied, perhaps a little too sharply.

"You were seeking other employment opportunities?" Granny said. "Yeah, Ah remember you spinnin' that yarn for me the first night you was here. Not to be rude, but you gotta work on that poker face o' yers. You and mah granddaughter have a lot in common, ya know: You two are the worst liars Ah ever seen.

Soarin stood there, tremulous hooves pressed firmly into the table as he looked down at the plate of half-eaten food before him. "Who was it? Who would come all the way down here on my behalf?"

"Hmmm." Granny sat back in her chair. "Blue fella," she replied. "Or was it a mare?" She scratched the back of her head. "Dern this old memory o' mine, ah don't rightly remember their name."

"I see," Soarin replied, armoring himself with the most convincing facade of indifference he could manage. Granny knew things about him. Things he'd rather have kept private. An inquiry about his feelings was inevitable, he could feel it. "May I be excused?" he said at once, desperate for an escape.

"You didn't finish yer breakfast."

"I'm not hungry."

"Yer afraid Ah'm gonna start askin' questions, aren't ya?"

Soarin didn't answer.

Granny smiled at him. "Well, yer right. You'll be excused right after you answer one question about yerself." 

Great, Soarin thought bitterly. She wanted him to talk about himself. His least favorite subject... "Fine," he said. "Let's get this over with. I have things to do."

"Like what?" Granny laughed. "Ah gave ya the day off, dummy." She thought for a moment. "Well, Ah do suppose you have a long hard day of sulking in front of you -- not to mention finding a place where you think no one can find you so you can go and cry your little eyes out."

"I don't cry!" Soarin snapped. It took a moment of glaring at the old bat to remember himself. Her smile was so patronizing, it was infuriating. He had already risen to the bait, but it wasn't too late to just let it go. "I'm sorry," he forced himself to say. "Just... What's your question?"

"It's an easy question. A simple yes or no will do." Granny locked her determined eyes on his. "Do you hurt right now?" 

Soarin balked at the trivial nature of the question. He was expecting something perhaps a bit more invasive. "That's it?" He sighed in relief."Yeah, I'm a bit sore, but, as a Pegasus, my muscles heal quicker than--"

"Ah'm not talkin' about yer muscles, young'un!" Granny interrupted. "On the inside. Are you hurting right now?"

"I'm not sure I follow you," Soarin lied, not liking the direction in which the conversation was heading.

"It's about time you learned to let others in, an' lesson one starts now," Granny explained. "Do. You. Hurt? Ah ain't askin' for yer life story. Ah just want you to answer me one simple question: do you hurt right now?"

Soarin looked down to conceal his face from the old nag behind the brim of his hat, tracing the grain of the ancient kitchen table with his eyes to distract himself. After what seemed like an unpleasant eternity of persistent silence, Soarin finally managed to croak a response. "Yes..." He couldn't believe how hard it was to force that one simple word through the lump that was forming in his throat.

"Good boy." Granny sagged back in her seat with a satisfied smile on her wrinkled face. "Ah'll be right here when yer ready to talk, but, yer free to go sulk, if that's what you'd rather do."

Soarin didn't waste a second. Prioritizing above all things the avoidance of eye contact, fearing that it may commence another intrusive inquiry, he twisted about from the table, fled the kitchen, and threw open the front door, fuming.





Soarin sighed as he turned his attention to the cool blue morning sky. He had been bedridden for two days. A brisk flight would do him some good. Perhaps relieving some stress would help him work up the nerve to seek audience with Applejack. He had so many questions, he didn't even know where to start. Who in Cloudsdale cared enough about him to seek him out? Did Applejack forgive him? 

His next thought should have been the furthest thing from his mind, but he couldn't help himself. Applejack, could she, perhaps, still have feelings for him? She was going to ask him out, he knew. She tried him once after Rainbow Dash's birthday party. If only he hadn't been drinking that night... She tried him again over breakfast, but her shyness got the best of her. She was going to try him again over that delicious meal she had cooked for the both of them. If only Spitfire hadn't... No. It wasn't Spitfire's fault. It was his fault; Spitfire didn't make him say the awful things he had said to her. If only he hadn't been so damned stubborn, so secretive, so sullen and paranoid.

"Damn it all!" Soarin shook his head, as if it would aid him in some way to cast the cacophonous, overbearing cluster of thoughts and emotions from his mind. All he wanted to do at that moment was fly. Just fly. Nothing else. He tried to spread his sore wings, but the inflammation was too much. It would seem that the cruel coordinator of his fate had seen to it to go so far as to deny him his most basic pleasure. However, it wouldn't keep him from trying. He flapped; and he flapped; and he flapped some more, his wings beating with excruciating futility. The defeated stallion finally succumbed to exhaustion, his hunger for the sky unsated. His legs buckled out from under him, and his body hit the ground with all the grace of a marionette with its strings severed. The ground pushed his hat off his head, sending it rolling off to his side. All he wanted to do was fly, to cast aside the bitterness of his woes and replace it with the sensation of the morning sky filling his lungs, but it was not to be.

His sides expanded softly as his eyes began to close, but they snapped back open as a group of petite yellow hooves entered his vision. He picked his head up off the ground and followed her legs up until he was looking her straight in the eye. Applejack's expression was inscrutable. "What are you doin' out here?"       

"Am I still fired?" Was all Soarin could manage to choke out. He hoped he didn't look too piteous, just laying there, looking up at her like a puppy under the dinner table whining for scraps. 

Applejack sighed. "No. Now get back in bed. Go on, now."

Soarin let his face rest against the grass. "Thank you."

"'Cause o' that stunt you pulled the other night, Granny won't let me fire you."

"You still want me gone..." 

Applejack regarded him with a cold silence.

Soarin found that it was getting hard to speak. The lump in his throat was back. "I'll quit, if you really want me gone. Granny can't keep me from doing that. But first, please, can we just talk?"

Applejack turned her back to him. "Ah was waiting for you to say that... Where'd ya have in mind? The things Ah have to say to you ain't for no one else to hear but you."

"My barn? If... If it's still mine."

"Let's go, then..." Applejack's voice was icy. She didn't even so much as turn around to offer assistance when Soarin struggled to his hooves. 

The walk was laborious. By the time they made it to the old structure, every muscle in Soarin's legs were practically screaming in protest. Applejack pulled the double doors open and stepped inside. Her behavior was peculiar, Soarin noticed. It wasn't like her to be so silent. There was an unfamiliar coldness to her. Was this how she was going to treat him from now on? 

Applejack was still keeping her back to him. It was a view Soarin honestly didn't mind, but he needed to look upon her eyes at that moment, not her ass. "Close the doors," she instructed, her tone ominously calm.

And so Soarin did, and it was no sooner than when the doors had thudded shut when all hell broke loose. 

Her hooves, petite as they were, were stronger than iron when they pressed into his neck and slammed him hard against the wall. The barn shook. The chains hanging from the rafters rattled. The large sheers fell off the wall. "What the hell were you thinkin', you winged jackass!" Her stern gaze met with his, green eyes burning like emerald flames."You got any idea how close you were to killing yourself!"  

Soarin suddenly forgot how sore he was. "I--"

Applejack jerked him back then slammed him against the wall again. "You moron! Is that a damn brain you got between yer ears, or did you toss it out so you can use your hollowed out skull for a chamber pot! Am Ah gonna have to tie you to your bed every night so Ah don't have to worry about you doing something a howler monkey with a chromosome deficiency would have the sense not to do?"

"Actually--"

Applejack slammed him against the wall again. She began to cry as her interrogation became progressively more personal. "Why didn't you tell me about all the things you was goin' through? Why is it that every time Ah ask you a question about yerself, you always find some convenient way to evade it? Do you just not like me, or somethin'?"

"Applejack, about the other night, it was just--"

"Apple Bloom filled me in. Ah don't care about that no more. Just answer mah question before you make me do somethin' Ah regret."

"If you don't care, then why are you so angry?" Soarin managed.

Applejack slammed him against the wall again. "Quit evading the question!"

"I'm not trying to be evasive!" Soarin shot back.

"Then answer me! Why do you refuse to let anyone in! Why is your sense of self-worth so diminished that you think there is no way anyone could ever care for you! "

"Because nobody ever has!" Soarin finally broke down. "You saw what happened to me at Rainbow Falls, didn't you? I've been treated like that all my life! It's like I'm just a tool for everyone's convenience! After I've served my use, I'm tossed away like garbage. That's the only way I've ever been able to get by in life. I just had to keep thinking of ways to make myself useful, because the second I'm not, the second I show that I can't be used in some way, no one wants anything to do with me. That's why I worked so hard a few nights ago. It was the only thing I could think of to make you forgive me!"  

Applejack released him and stepped back with wide, attentive eyes. 

Soarin sagged and slid down the wall. He couldn't tell if her look of sympathy was genuine, or if it was just obligatory, but he decided that he didn't care anymore. He was past the point of no return now. "I had to show you that I could still be useful. It felt like I was being thrown away again. Maybe you're not still upset over what I said, but I am. I still haven't done enough to make up for it. You were honest with me. You were the one pony to ever show me any real kindness without expecting or demanding something in return, and all I could do was regard you with suspicion." He hid his face in his hooves. "This place was the best thing to ever happen to me, and I came so close to just throwing it all away."

Soarin didn't even know how to feel now. Proud, he supposed. He finally did it. He finally opened up. But now, he felt nothing. Weak, emotionally drained, devoid of essence... Numb. "So," he croaked. "What happens now?"

"What happens now?" Applejack sat next to him on the floor and embraced him. "Now you can start healing, sugarcube." They were silent for the longest time, neither one willing to let the other go. 

Soarin suddenly remembered a question he had asked that she had yet to answer. "AJ?"

"Hmm?" Her sweet little hum was like music.

"You said you weren't upset over what I said to you. What did you mean by that? You were furious with me that night, remember? I still have a bruise on my chest from where you shoved me."

Applejack was silent for the longest time. Soarin could feel the heat from her face, and he realized she was blushing. "What you said didn't bother me so much as..."

"So much as?"

"The words themselves didn't hurt me. It was the fact that ... well, that you were the one who said em. If anyone else would have said what you said? Ah don't know. Ah could ignore em. Words are just wind when you think about it. The fact those words came out of your mouth just gave them power, ah suppose..."

...

"Why's that?"

Applejack looked up at him, the shy, coy demeanor souring into... Soarin couldn't say. Impatience? Annoyance? After a roll of her eyes and a forgiving smile, she nuzzled herself into his shoulder again and muttered under her breath, "Got-dang, yer thicker than molasses."

"Sorry?"

"Yer a dummy," she chuckled before she disentangled herself from him and pushed herself to her hooves. "But yer mah dummy." She offered him her hoof, accompanied with a sweet smile.

Soarin almost ignored the gesture, but he thought better of it. Refusing her help at this point may give cause to infuriate her all over again.

They sauntered along the pasture together until they happened along Soarin's hat. He had seemed to have forgotten about it in his exhaustion. Applejack was in the process of reclaiming it from the ground when Soarin directed his attention toward the house. Apple Bloom, Granny Smith, Big Mac, and Braeburn congregating in front. When the company noticed Applejack and Soarin approaching, they wasted no time in rushing out to meet with them.

"Good to see ya out 'n' about, apple slayer," Braeburn chuckled, slapping Soarin over the back with a heavy hoof in camaraderie. The blow made Soarin wince.

Apple Bloom locked her limbs about Soarin's leg, gimping his gate like a concrete boot. "Ah was so worried about you, Mister Soarin!" She smiled up at him so sweetly, it was almost diabetes-inducing. "Yer still paying for mah school, right? Make sure you put me in yer will before you try to kill yourself again, okay?"

"Did you really harvest all them apples with that old scythe?" Big Mac had to know. "Incredible!" He too had a deposit to add on the array of physical affection. For the massive red lummox, it was a punch in the arm. The prospect of being crippled was becoming a reality as Soarin swallowed the pain like the pillar of masculinity he wished he was.

Soarin had never known such warmth. All he could do was just puzzle at them, their smiles, their compliments, their mirth. So, this is what a family is?

Granny Smith placed a frail hoof upon Soarin's cheek and drew him down so she could kiss him on the forehead. "Mah offer still stands, young'un. Ah'll always be here for ya." The cold numbness that Soarin had been feeling was melting away. He had felt alone for so long now, he wasn't sure what to make of it all. The Wonderbolts had never praised him, or showered him with affection, or loved him in spite of his mistakes - not in the way this family did. For one second, the fear of loss, his old enemy, was beginning to rear its ugly head. It clawed at him, screaming for him to push them back before his bond with them became an artery that would become too painful to sever, but he suppressed it. He built a mental cage within the deepest confines of his mind and locked it away. "Thank you, Granny," he whispered, overcome with emotion.    

"Sugarcube?"

Soarin blinked the mist from his eyes and turned his attention to Applejack, who stood at the ready with his hat in hoof. "I like your family," he sniffed.

"Ah certainly hope so." She set the hat carefully atop his head, adjusted it, and winked. "After all, you are a part of it."