A Job With Benefits

by Boomstick Mick

Right Where I Need To Be

The tiny bell overhead announced Soarin's arrival as he entered through the shop's door. The owner, an over-the-hill, overweight stallion with thick grey hairs sprouting from his ears, twisted around from the rack he was stocking to greet them. He adjusted his glasses and smiled once his eyes had finally focused. "Ah, Soarin!" he said excitedly. The shop owner liked Soarin, as his constant patronage and generous gratuity lined the small business owner's pockets with enough gold to put him on the path to retirement. "That monster of a projector screen you ordered arrived this morning."

"Sweet," replied Soarin. He stopped to inspect a nearby shelf containing a few films that piqued his interest. "When do you think you can have it delivered to my place?"

The shop owner scratched his head. "I make local deliveries only," he offered apologetically. "Sweet Apple Acres is technically outside of the city limits."

"That's too bad," Soarin shrugged as Apple Bloom entered through the door behind him, a threadbare sack hanging from her mouth. She dropped it, and a wave of clinking shiny bits spilled out. "And here I brought all this money for nothing."

"I'll get the cart ready," announced the shop owner, suddenly all eagerness. Then he hastefully disappeared through the back door behind his counter with an alacrity that was almost comical.

Soarin and Apple Bloom perused the shop together as the owner readied the package for delivery out back. The store was a small electronics retail outlet based in the central section of Ponyville. The windows were covered in promotional posters old and new, and a sign displaying the business hours was posted on the glass door. Florescent light bulbs flickered above several dusty shelves lined with films and records, while an old radio behind the front counter filled the air with the archaic sounds of the golden oldies. To call the store a hole in the wall would have been an understatement, but like the rest of Ponyille, Soarin liked the down home charm the place exuded.

"Oh, Soarin, can we get this one!" Apple Bloom held out a popular teen movie she had taken from a nearby shelf.

Soarin inspected the cover art, which depicted a pair of grayed out hooves holding a bright red apple. He read the title out loud. "Midnight?"

"Ah heard it's real good," Apple Bloom insisted. "It's a love story about a young vampire fruit bat pony, who falls in love with a mortal mare."

"Sounds like another teenybopper horror drama," Soarin sighed, directing his gaze to the horror section. "Seriously, who in Applewood made the decision to turn vampire movies into soap operas?" He then scoffed, "Vampire fruit bat ponies... I'd rather watch something with real vampires in it." His eyes stopped scanning when he finally found what he was looking for. "Ah, Castlemania." Soarin drew the film from the shelf and showed it to Apple Bloom.

"Real vampires?" The filly's nose wrinkled with disapproval. "Ah'll bet these vampires don't even sparkle."

Soarin's eye twitched. "Alright, how about this: you get your stupid, kiddy, feel good, snuggleywuggley vampire movie, and I'll get mine. We'll watch them back-to-back and see how they stand against each other."

"Deal," agreed Apple Bloom.

Upon reaching their agreement, the two brought their respective movies to the front counter to pay. Soarin became suspicious when he realized the elderly shop owner wasn't back yet. "Huh, wonder what's taking him so long?"

"He's old," Apple Bloom offered, just before a loud crash followed by a slew of curses could be heard resounding from behind the shop. "Ah'm gonna look for something to read. This could take a while." The filly eyed a rack of film related magazines. She selected one that catered to aficionados of foreign animation and plopped down on the floor with it splayed out in front of her.

Soarin turned his attention to an old arcade cabinet in the corner of the store. The art on the side of the machine featured a cobalt cybernetic mare with a cannon for an arm. Mega Mare, It was a classic straight out of his childhood. Soarin was just entertaining the thought of sinking a couple bits into the old machine, when something on the old radio behind the counter caught his attention. The old ragtime track that had been playing reached its end, and the DJ, a surprisingly upbeat sounding stallion, announced that it was now time for some news.

"Because two frogs are not enough and four is too many, it's Three Frog here coming at you with the news! How y'all doin' tonight, Ponyville?

Now, let's see... Weather conditions seem to be fair across Equestria as the seasons are coming to what looks like a steady transition. Expect light winds with highs in the mid sixties and lows in the low fifties. The Pegusi are bringing the first Autumn showers next week, so be sure to have your umbrellas at the ready and-- blah blah blah, who cares? This isn't what you wanted to hear, is it? Well, if it is, too bad, because ol' Three Frog's got something special for you.

This recording has been circulating the airwaves for nearly four hours now. The broadcaster's identity is unknown, but authorities believe the recording originated from a derelict radio tower in Cloudsdale. For all you Wonderbolts fans out there who have yet to be made aware of this, you may find this recording especially interesting. What you are about to hear is completely unedited. Mamas and papas out there, you may want to cover your kids' ears for this... You've been warned... Play the tape."

Soarin listened in shock as a recorded collection of Spitfire's various expletive-strewn rants and ravings assailed the airwaves. Some of the things said seemed to confirm quite a few scandals surrounding the rumors of strife and corruption within the team. There was a colorful section where she could be heard refusing a request from a world renowned charity to visit a sick child in the hospital, referring to the whole situation as a waste of her time. The most telling part of the recording was near the end, which was a very recent event Soarin had been privy to. It was from the night Applejack had beaten the crap out of her. 'You're gonna die, you inbred bitch!' came out clear as a bell, followed by a barrage of racial slurs such as 'Muck Raker' and 'Ground Pounder.' Soarin was amazed that they were even allowed to play this over the heavily regulated public radio.

"How in tartarus did--" Soarin was beginning to say, but then he remembered Wave Chill had a recording device hidden under his coat that night. How long has he been secretly recording her? Was this some kind of retribution?

Soarin jumped with a start when the shop owner let the door close behind him. "Alright, the cart's ready for--"

"Quiet!" Soarin snapped.

"Yes, for all of you who are wondering, that was indeed our beloved Captain Spitfire you just heard. Several media outlets have reported that the Wonderbolt captain hasn't been available to make a comment. Gee, I wonder why... Personally, I'm not sure what to make of all this, but I am interested in knowing what all of you have to say. For anyone out there who would like to shed their input on the situation, feel free to send a letter to Three Frog HQ so I can read them on the air. Until next time, fillies and gentle colts, this has been Three Frog, your bearer of bad news, saying stay classy, Ponyville. I'm out!"

"Was that.... Was that really Spitfire saying all that nasty stuff?" Apple Bloom came in. The filly's eyes were wide with disbelief, an aghast hoof over her gaping mouth. "I-Is she really like that?"

Soarin didn't know what to say. He had never bothered to tell Apple Bloom about the real Spitfire. He had spent the last few weeks trying to forget about her.

"Did I miss something?" came the flummoxed shop owner.

"Nah, they'll probably play it again," Soarin said. "Every radio and news station in Equestria probably has it recorded."

"Recording of what?"

"Don't worry about it," Soarin replied, waving his hoof dismissively. "Sorry for getting snippy with you. That was uncalled for."

"Oh, it's okay," said the shop owner with a forgiving smile. "I have your package loaded on to the cart and ready for delivery. Whenever you're ready I'll lock up the store and bring it over to your place."

Soarin noted the shop owner's tired visage. Just loading his order up on the wagon was enough to exhaust him. He didn't want to be held accountable for a senior citizen collapsing in the street from over exertion. "You know what? I thought about it, and I think I'd rather just bring the package home myself. You don't mind if I borrow your wagon, do you? I mean, since it's already loaded and everything."

The elder gave him an indignant look. "I work in retail, not equipment rental. Look, I went through the trouble of--"

"I'll still pay you for the delivery," Soarin incentivized. "I'll even throw in a rental fee for the wagon." He presented the bag of bits Apple Bloom had brought into the store. "Two hundred should about cover everything, shouldn't it?"

The shop owner's eyes widened "T-two hundred? As in -- two hundred Equestrian?"

"Oh, silly me, I forgot the movies." He gestured toward the films he and Apple Bloom had selected. "I'm pretty sure there's a couple hundred more in this bag. What say you just keep the whole thing, and we'll call it even?"

"For two movies?"

"I'll be sure to bring you another two hundred when I bring back the wagon. It's the least I can do for letting me borrow it."

"S-sure," said the nonplussed shop owner.

"I'll have the wagon back soon." And so Soarin and Apple Bloom left the slack-jawed old stallion standing there, letting themselves out through the back of the store where the wagon awaited them.

"You're really paying that old guy six hundred bits for doing virtually nothing?" Apple Bloom quarried, her lips pulled back in a quizzical little smirk.

"You think that's too much?" Soarin replied as he was hitching the wagon.

Apple Bloom pretended to think about it. "Nah, not at all." She hopped up on the flat bed wagon next to the package, which looked like a long tube wrapped up in a crude tapestry of taped together packing paper. She then laid down, one front leg crossed over the other, and looked expectantly at Soarin, in the way an impatient passenger might at an oblivious rickshaw driver.

Soarin cocked an amused eyebrow. "I just might charge you for the ride."

"Oh, sure," Apple Bloom tittered with a flick of her hoof. "Get us home fast enough, an' there just may be a nice tip in it for you."

Soarin steadily pulled the wagon through the streets of Ponyville. The hard packed dirt roads of the town made it easy, but the rural winding uphill path to Sweet Apple Acres was a different story. The dirt was softer up here, and the hill only seemed to be growing steeper by the minute. Beads of sweat ran down Soarin's face as he paced his breathing with the rhythm of his steps. Despite his athletic prowess, the heavy wagon still gave him trouble. Now he really was glad that he hadn't let the shop owner deliver the package for him; judging by how profusely he was panting after loading and tying down his projector screen, the poor guy would most likely have killed over before he reached the hill's halfway point.

It was getting dark now, and Apple Bloom had fallen asleep in the back of the cart. The steady trundling motion of the wagon must have felt soothing to her. Soarin didn't like not having anyone to talk to. Alone with his thoughts, all he could seem to think about was the broadcast. Did Spitfire know about it yet? Of course she knew. Why else would she avoid the media? How was she taking it? Was she sitting up in that study of hers, tearing her hair out over the prospect of her precious reputation being ruined while drowning herself in that overpriced liquor of hers? What perplexed Soarin all the more was why he even cared. He didn't like Spitfire, and even if he did, this matter was none of his business.

Soarin was just coming upon the crest of the hill which gave view to the farm house. There were no street lights out here. The only source of illumination at night was the light the moon provided. On cloudy nights the farm and the surrounding orchards were pitch black, save for the warm lights filtering through the windows of the home. It gave the farm a bit of a spooky feel, like something out of an old horror movie.

Soarin pulled the wagon up beside his barn and securely chocked the wheels before moving toward Apple Bloom. The filly was all sprawled out like a sack of apples. Her hind leg kicked before she smacked her lips and rolled over, sides slowly expanding and contracting with her light breaths. "Wake up, kid." Soarin gave her a gentle nudge. "We're home."

The filly stirred. Her snoring ended in an abrupt snort before she opened her eyes. "We're here already?"

"You fell asleep," Soarin informed her. "If you're too tired to get up I can carry you to the house"

"Nah, Ah'm good." Apple Bloom rubbed her eyes and pushed herself up. "Ah'm more hungry than anything else."

"Food does sound good right about now," Soarin agreed.

The two traversed the darkened pasture toward the family homestead. The closer they got, the stronger the tantalizing scent of Granny's red bean chili and cornbread became. Soarin pushed the door open and followed the delicious smell to the kitchen, where Applejack, Big Mac, and Granny Smith were just finishing setting up the table.

Applejack stopped what she was doing to greet him with a flirty sideways smile. "Welcome home, cowboy. You got here just in the nick o' time."

"You don't say?" Soarin cleared the kitchen to give her a kiss. "Dinner smells good."

Applejack winked. "Just you wait for dessert, sugarcube. Ah whipped you up somethin' special." She gestured toward a freshly baked apple pie cooling in the kitchen window.

Granny's cooking was just as delicious as it always was. She had made the chili just the way Soarin liked it, adding diced green onions and shredded cheese in with the original recipe. Soarin had once made an offhand comment that he liked his chili that way. He didn't actually expect Granny to go out of her way and change the family recipe to accommodate him. It was little gestures such as these that reminded him that Granny cared.

The family worked together to clear the table and wash the dishes after supper. Big Mac had excused himself afterwards and went to bed. Apple Bloom sat out on the front porch and enjoyed the cool night air as she played with the brand new Joy Boy Soarin had recently purchased for her, while granny relaxed in her rocking chair and went over the family's earnings for the month. Soarin noted the smile on her face as she was doing this and deduced that they must have been doing well.

Soarin and Applejack had their own plans for the night. They shared the pie she had baked as they sat near the bank of the creek that cut through the orchards. The sound of the rushing water gurgling over the rocks was soothing to Soarin's ears. The stream itself was so clean and clear its surface reflected the moonlight with the stark clarity of a polished mirror. Applejack sat by him, her head rested against his shoulder as they listened to the croaking and chirping of the nocturnal wildlife, the water cooling their hooves as a bonfire crackling behind them warmed their backs.

For three weeks now this had been Soarin's life. Three weeks of learning the Apple family trade, three weeks of cuddling up to AJ by the fire as the stars twinkled over head, three weeks of Granny Smith's amazing cooking, three weeks of living his life the way he had always wanted. Soarin was happy.

"Are you sure you don't mind?" Applejack had asked for what felt like the hundredth time. They lay there together as the pile of smoldering ash that had once been their bonfire was singing its swan song with a wisp of white smoke.

Soarin closed his arm around her and said, "I don't mind watching Apple Bloom. I just wish you didn't have to leave."

"Ah know, sugarcube but it'll only be for the weekend."

"Why the bayou, though?"

"The Apple family has been making the annual trip to The Fire Swamps for decades," Applejack explained. "You wouldn't believe the profits we turn up down there."

"Just selling apple pies? Don't get me wrong, your pies are amazing, but isn't that a pretty long trip to make just to sell a couple of pastries."

"A couple?" Applejack chuckled. "Try a couple hundred. The locals down there in the bayou just can't get enough of em."

"A couple hundred?" Soarin let out an impressed whistle from between his teeth.

"Yup, and Ah always make sure to bring back a big ol' pot of Fire Swamp gumbo for the family. You'll love it."

Soarin glimpsed a shooting star racing across the night sky. "I still wish you didn't have to leave, though," he sighed.

Applejack rested her head against his shoulder and said, "Oh, Ah'm sure you and Apple Bloom will be havin' so much fun together, you won't even realize Ah'm gone."

"Well, Apple Bloom and I just picked up a couple movies. And my two hundred inch projector screen just came in. I suppose we could have us a movie night, or something. As far as food goes, I'm not much of a cook, but I can make a pretty good pizza."

"Ah'm sure she'd love that," Applejack said.

"Plus she has that new Joyboy I got her. That game it came with seems to occupy her every waking moment. What was that game called again? 'Final Quest..?' 'Dragon Fantasy..?' Something like that. Anyway, I doubt she'll be bored this weekend."

"Ah was wondering where that fancy dohickey of hers came from." Applejack turned her head and smiled up at him. "Yer gonna spoil her rotten, ya know that?"

"I can't help but spoil her," Soarin admitted. "She's like the little sister I never had."

"That's sweet." Applejack craned her neck and gave him a light kiss on the cheek before she turned onto her side and cuddled up to him. There was a brief intermission of silence between them before she finally said, "Ah know this goes without saying, but... Don't let anything happen to her, okay?"

Soarin detected a hint of actual concern in her voice when she said that. "You say that as if you're expecting something bad to happen."

"It ain't that, It's just - she's mah little sister. She's the only one Ah got. Ah can't help but worry about her sometimes, ya know? Granny's gonna be out of town visiting family this weekend, so she ain't gonna be here neither. Ah'm not used to just leaving her alone like this."

"You're not leaving her alone. You're leaving her with me."

"Ah know. That's not what Ah meant. Ah mean, it's gonna feel weird not being there to personally check in on her. When Ah'm not around, Ah know that at least Granny's there to look after her, but she ain't gonna be here. Ah know Ah sound like a nervous ninny, but, promise me you'll keep her out of trouble while we're gone."

"I promise." Soarin held her tighter, as if to reassure her. He looked up at the night sky and noticed the moon was directly over head. It was getting late. "How hard could watching one filly be?"

---

The week went by seamlessly, and the day before the weekend had finally come.

A jukebox in the corner of the barn resonated with the dulcet sounds of Soarin's eclectic music preferences while he worked to assemble his home theater. His two hundred inch roll down screen was secured to the wall, and his state of the art projector system sat upon a rack mounted between the rafters above. When he was finished adjusting the machine so that its beam would hit the screen at just the right angle, he hovered over to his loft and perched himself down at its edge to survey his living space. The entertainment center, he thought, seemed to tie his little bachelor pad together.

Soarin had spent a lot of money, but his new place had come a long way from what it once was. The barn had been thoroughly cleaned, repaired, and furnished. Electricians were hired to install basic necessities such as a fuse box to connect to the grid, as well as electrical outlets. Soarin and Big Mac worked together to build a staircase for easier access to the hay loft, which he had taken as his sleeping quarters. He had even managed to upgrade the pile of straw he had once slept on to a proper bed.

Satisfied with the job he had done putting together his home theater system, Soarin checked the time on the neon Red Buffalo Ale clock hanging just above the entrance to his barn. It was a quarter til nine. Applejack should have been finishing up with the prep work for her trip by now. He leapt down from his loft and turned off his jukebox. He skirted around the couch situated in front of his projector screen and made his way for the front door.

After a short flight across the pasture, Soarin could see Applejack and Big Mac going over checklists for their trip. Each of them had their own wagon that was loaded down with baking supplies and camping gear. "Hey guys."

"Ah'll be with ya in just a sec, sugarcube," Applejack said, her eyes focused intently on her list. "Lamp oil, rope, bedroll, tent, shovel, axe, matches."

"Yup, yup, yup, yup, yup, yup, and yup," Came Apple Bloom's voice. "You got all those things." Her head popped up like a little red daisy from out of the back of Applejack's wagon. "Anything else?"

"What about the extra pie pans?" Applejack inquired. "Ya manage to find those?"

"Hold on, lemme see." Apple Bloom dove back into the heap and rummaged around in the cart. It rocked from side to side as she shuffled about in her search. "Ah, here we are!" The filly held the generous stack of silvery discs aloft, as if she was expecting some sort of disembodied victory tune to announce her discovery. "Got em right here, sis."

"Alright, good. For a sec, there, Ah thought Ah'd have to buy more." Applejack marked off a check on her list. "You done, Big Mac?"

The large, muscular stallion was tugging at one of the wagon wheels, presumably to insure that it was properly secured. "Just about finished. All Ah need to do now is grease the axles, and we should be ready to go." He then proceeded to crawl under Applejack's cart with the handle of an oil can clinched between his teeth.

Apple Bloom hopped out of the cart and looked up at Soarin with her eyes all vibrant with excitement. "You get that fancy system of yers put together?" she asked. "Can Ah finally watch mah movie?"

Soarin mirrored the exuberant filly's enthusiasm as he said, "Sure did. You ready for movie night, kiddo?"

"Ah can't wait!" The filly exclaimed. "You got the candy, and pop corn, and soda pop?"

"I did, but I got kettle corn instead of pop corn."

Apple Bloom tilted her head inquisitively. "What's kettle corn?"

"It's like pop corn, but better. You'll just have to trust me."

"Ah can't wait to try it!" The filly exclaimed, her eyes all aglitter.

"Apple Bloom," Applejack interjected. "Ain't it about time you headed off to school?"

Apple Bloom's smile dampened. "Already?"

"It was a quarter till when I last checked the time," Soarin announced. He squinted in the direction of the morning sun and added, "That was about five minutes ago, I think."

"Oh!" Said Apple Bloom, startled. "Yeah, Ah guess its about time Ah hit the road." She gave Applejack a hug and wished her a safe trip. Then she added, "Oh, Ah almost forgot: Ah'm hanging out with Sweetie and Scootaloo after school today, so Ah'll be a bit late coming home. That cool with you?"

Soarin assumed Apple Bloom was talking to her big sister, but he quickly realized the filly was beaming right at him. He looked at Applejack, expecting her to answer for him, but she just watched him, as if she was waiting to see what his answer would be. "Uh, yeah, that's okay," he chanced. He glanced again at Applejack for signs of disapproval and added, "Just make sure you're home before the street lamps come on."

"Awesome!" The filly leaped up from her hind legs to throw her arms around him. "Ah'll see ya tonight, then?"

"Sure hope so." Soarin returned the hug and placed her gently back down on the ground. "Dinner should be ready by the time you get back. We're gonna have pizza tonight, so don't be late."

"Ah won't," Apple Bloom promised before she gathered up her things and began her departure for school, shouting one last farewell over her shoulder as she was leaving. "Bye guys. Have a safe trip."

"We will," Applejack shouted back to her. "Have a good day at school, an' be good for Soarin. Ah want to hear a good report when Ah get back home, ya hear?" She then turned around to give Soarin an affectionate smile. "You two are real cute together, ya know that?"

"She'll be a cinch to manage," Soarin assured her. "I just wish you and I could have a little more time to spend together."

"Funny, Ah was just thinkin' the same thing," Applejack said, her eyes narrowing in a rather intimate manner. "Hey, Big Mac, me and Soarin got a little errand to run. Give us about twenty minutes."

"Errands?" replied Big Mac from under the wagon, his tone bearing an indication that he was more than privy to what his sister meant by 'errands.' "Sure, whatever you say. You kids behave."

Applejack swaggered past Soarin, then looked back at him to throw him a provocative smile from over her shoulder. She flicked his nose with her tail and purred, "Race ya to the barn, sugarcube."

Soarin humored her with a grin. "You won't win," he cautioned her in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Oh yeah?" Applejack challenged. "We'll just see about--" She suddenly pointed, eyes wide with urgency. "Soarin, look!"

"What?" Soarin looked in the direction she was pointing. He looked... He actually looked... Why did he look? By the time he realized he had been fooled he turned to see Applejack's ass as she was tearing off in the direction of his barn. "Cute," Soarin commented. "But ineffective." He calmly popped his neck with a roll of his head, stretched one hind leg, then the other, then crouched like a sprinter at the starting line. "And... Go!"

Soarin caught up with her in a matter of seconds. "Hey, pretty lady," he taunted as he slowed his pace to fall in beside her. "Goin' my way?"

Dismay spread across Applejack's face, but she quickly recovered. Panting, she lowered her head and broke into a stride so fast her hat flew off. "Eat mah dust, flyboy!" she hollered back at him.

Soarin laughed as he, once again, effortlessly caught up with her. "You dropped your hat there," he informed her. "Here, I'll go back and get it for you." And Soarin did just that, then caught back up with her. "Got your hat," he smirked, not even winded from the backtrack. Then he looked forward and pretended to notice the barn. "Oh, hey, finish line's coming up."

"Quit runnin' yer mouth," Applejack managed through her labored panting.

"Run?" Soarin said. "Oh, sorry, I thought we were speed walking. Okay, I'll start running now." And then Soarin lowered his head, grinned, then left her in his dust as he rocketed forward, his corded, athletic legs pumping. Soarin was tall, and his limbs were knotted, long, and slender. Combine that with all the years of grueling PT he had endured, and he was a force to be reckoned with on the race track. He may not have been the fastest flyer in his former team, but when it came to long distance sprinting he had no equal. Even Fleetfoot, "The Blue Lightening" they called her, had trouble keeping up with him on his worst days.

By the time Applejack made it to the barn, Soarin was reclined on his couch, hooves rested atop the table, twirling her hat, as if he'd been waiting for her all morning. "What took you?"

"You think..." Applejack huffed as she leaned against the door frame. "You think yer so hot, don't ya?"

"No." Soarin tossed her hat to her. "I think you're hot, though."

"You wanna see hot?" Applejack deftly snatched her hat out of the air, then wiped her brow before she placed it back on her head. "Ah'll show ya hot." She then entered the barn, shutting the door behind her.

Soarin chuckled as she pushed him back against the cushions. Then Applejack swung a hind leg over him and straddled him, her hooves placed firmly against his chest, as if to keep him pinned. Her smile was provocative as she lowered her muzzle mere inches from his. "What'cha gonna do now?"

Her breath smelled sweet. Her lips were even sweeter when he pulled her in the rest of the way. She hummed pleasurably as her arms worked their way around him. Soarin separated his lips from hers and began to kiss her up and down her neck. "Soarin," she giggled, "that tickles."

It wasn't until things got a little hotter and heavier than they usually did when Applejack abruptly stopped him. She withdrew her lips from his and said breathlessly, "Hey, whoa there, cowboy, whoa."

Red faced, Soarin looked down at her, his heart hammering. Somewhere during their coupling he had laid her on her back. "What's the matter?"

Applejack's face was reddened behind a glistening veil of sweat. She reached up to touch his cheek apologetically. "A-Ah don't know if we're ready for that, sugarcube."

"Oh." Soarin suddenly felt chagrined. "Sorry if I got a little carried away. I thought you were sending me the signals."

"Ah was," Applejack admitted. "But, Ah just..." She looked away from him. "Ah just don't know if Ah'm ready."

"If you don't know if you're ready, then you're not ready." Soarin gently placed his hoof under her chin and guided her gaze back to meet with his. He tried to make his smile as forgiving as he possibly could, even though she did nothing that required forgiveness. "It's okay."

"Really?" Applejack smiled appreciatively, those pretty eyelashes of hers fluttering. "You ain't disappointed?"

"Of course not," Soarin insisted, relieved as he felt the tension melting away. "I didn't kill the mood, did I?"

"Hmm." AJ smiled playfully as she pretended to think about his question, then she said, "Nope," before she bit his bottom lip, Soarin letting out a surprised yelp as she pulled his head back down with her teeth.

---

With their 'errand' concluded, the wagons properly serviced and inspected, their gear packed, and their baking supplies properly stored, Applejack and Big Mac had taken their leave. Even though the family would be gone for the weekend, Soarin still had a quota that needed to be met. He didn't mind. Working kept his hooves busy and his mind occupied. It made the day go by much faster than it would have if he just laid around watching movies in his barn all day.

After depositing the freshly filled barrels in their appropriate compartments he locked up the apple cellar, hung up his scythe, and set toward the house to get dinner started. Soarin missed the family, but the caramel-colored sunset and the autumn winds rushing across the emerald pasture created such a serene atmosphere, it was difficult to not enjoy the solitude as he cantered through the field.

With the oven set at the proper temperature and the fresh, homemade pizza baking within its confines, Soarin set the timer. "Twenty minutes should do it." He twisted the dial on an egg timer and set it atop the stove.

Just then there was a knock at the front door. Soarin's ears twitched. Apple Bloom was his first thought, but why would she knock? She lived there.

Soarin pushed the double doors open and entered the living room. He opened the front door, and then he frowned when he saw who was standing at the other side of it. "What are you doing here?"

"Nice to see you, too," replied Trenderhoof, his obnoxiously white smile gleaming so brightly, it almost hurt to look directly at it. "May I come in?"

"No," Soarin said flatly. "And if you're here to hit on my girlfriend--"

"Oh, she's your girlfriend now?" Trenderhoof interrupted. "Congratulations, Soarin! Applejack is quite the keeper."

Soarin glared at him suspiciously. "She's away for the weekend. And if I ever catch you accosting her again I'm going to smack you until your bruises glow in the dark."

Trenderhoof looked as if he was beaming with admiration. "How chivalrous of you!"

Frowning indecisively, Soarin scratched his head and said, "I can't tell if you're being serious, or if you're just being a jackass."

Trenderhoof shrugged. "I get that a lot, you know."

"Yeah, well, you probably get this a lot too: get out of here." Soarin attempted to close the door, but Trenderhoof placed his hoof in its path.

"Soarin, I implore you, listen to me. I'm not here for Applejack. I've come here for you."

"We don't want any, now move!" Soarin slammed the door, but he intentionally telegraphed his movements just enough to give Trenderhoof time to pull away before it could come smashing into his hoof. He waited a few moments to insure all was quiet before he let himself relax in Granny's rocking chair, but just as he was settling in he heard a clatter in the kitchen. "Oh, what now!"

Trenderhoof was sprawled out on the kitchen floor, rubbing the crown of his skull where he had made impact with the unyielding hardwood surface. Soarin directed his angry gaze toward the window just above the persistent stallion, which looked as if it had been jimmied open. "Oh, goody," he smirked, selecting a heavy cast iron skillet from a nearby cabinet. "You just broke into my house. I can hurt you as much as I want without having to worry about the legal repercussions now."

Trenderhoof shielded himself with a hoof. "Soarin, wait! I'm sorry I'm going through such extreme measures, but I really need to speak with you. It's about the current situation regarding Spitfire."

Soarin, curious, decided not to brain the trespasser. "Go on."

"What have I ever done to you?" Trenderhoof demanded. "Why are you being so hostile toward me?"

"I make it a point to detest stallions who have sexually harassed my girlfriend," Soarin stated. "Also, recent events concerning the media has soured my view of Ponies in your profession."

"You're still salty about the things the Foal Street Journal said about you?" Trenderhoof replied. "Soarin, I don't work for them. I'm freelance. And, sexual harassment, really? Aren't you embellishing things just a little?"

"You said you wanted to talk about Spitfire," Soarin reminded him.

"Yes, well..." Trenderhoof pointed toward the skillet still clutched in Soarin's foreleg. "Its a bit difficult to articulate my thoughts when a stallion is standing over me brandishing a weapon... Like the way you're doing right now."

Soarin set the skillet aside. He checked the egg timer and said, "You have fifteen minutes."

"Fifteen minutes," agreed Trenderhoof, wiping the dust from that gaudy cashmere sweater vest of his.

They sat across from each other at the kitchen table, upon which Trenderhoof had set a notepad and a small tape recorder he had taken from a satchel he had brought with him.

"What is all this?" Soarin demanded.

"I have a journalistic obligation to record..." Trenderhoof fell silent as he noticed Soarin glaring at him once the words 'journalistic obligation' tumbled from his mouth. "I, uh, I'll be honest with you, Soarin. I'm here for business reasons."

"Business?" Soarin echoed. "So, what is this, like, an interview, or something?"

"Precisely," Trenderhoof said, smiling. Without warning he hit the record button on the device and continued. "I'm here to get the full scoop from you, Soarin. I'm giving you the chance to clarify things once and for all. I'm here to get the final word from you, to separate fact from fiction so that the good folk reading or listing to my report will know your story."

That tape recorder was making Soarin nervous. "What story, exactly?"

"Have you heard the reports? Have you not been reading the headlines? It all began with a recording that got leaked onto the air a few days ago. Someone had managed to activate an abandoned radio tower and jack the frequencies of--

"Yes, I heard the recording on the radio," Soarin interrupted him. "What does that have to do with me?"

"I was getting to that." Trenderhoof cleared his throat. "A few weeks ago it was you who stood in the media's cross hairs, but now they've shifted toward Spitfire, as every day more and more information about her - let's just call them, her 'indiscretions,' are being brought to the light. Just like when the media was focused on tarnishing your name, an overwhelming amount of so called 'proof' such as supplemental audio recordings and signed testimonies from 'supposedly' credible witnesses have been released. Recordings can be altered and enhanced. Ponies who call themselves witnesses can lie. I'm here, Soarin, because I wish to obtain a testimony from a truly credible source, and I can think of no one more credible than a former Wonderbolt. I suspect that your reasons for leaving the team may have had something to do with Spitfire. Forgive the pun, but I'm just not buying this yarn about you leaving over a financial dispute."

"Why can't you just interview Spitfire?" Soarin asked.

"She's been spending the past few days in seclusion. She refuses to talk to the media about any of this. It's uncertain if she's doing this out of shame, or if she's just hoping to stay off the radar until the fire on her dies out."

Soarin sighed. "Certainly sounds like something she would do."

"Let's start with a simple question," Trenderhoof continued, readying his notepad. "Why did you leave the Wonderbolts?"

"I..." Soarin looked again at the tape recorder. So, this is it, he thought. It was his opportunity to tell his story. It felt like he had Spitfire locked in a guillotine, and the cord to release the blade had been placed in his hoof. All he had to do was pull it.

"Are you alright?" Trenderhoof said.

"What do you mean?"

"You've been silent for a whole minute now. Are you well?"

"I'm... I'm sorry," replied Soarin, his hooves inexplicably shaking. What was this surge of emotion he was feeling? His parting words he had delivered to Spitfire the night he had visited her rushed back into his memory.

I hope the day comes when you lose everything you've ever worked for. I pray that the day comes when your happiness turns to ashes in your hooves, and the only one you have to turn to is me. I hope you come crawling to me on your belly, too weak to stand, with tears of desperation in your eyes, and when - if - that day should ever come, I'll spit on you. I'll spit on you, and I'll laugh as I watch you wallow in your own self pity and regret.

Remembering those words, Soarin wanted to be as angry as he was that night, but he wasn't. But this was what he always wanted, wasn't it? An opportunity to hurt, no, destroy Spitfire. There was no doubt in his mind that she deserved it. He warned her this day would come, but now that it has, he wasn't sure what to do. It was hard to be angry as he realized what the emotion he felt was. It was pity.

Trenderhoof looked as if he was becoming concerned. "Are you alright?"

"I am," Soarin said. "I just needed a moment to gather my thoughts."

"Would you like to go on with the interview?"

Soarin thought. Not about the Wonderbolt Captain, but of the deceit and lies that had been spun about him and undoubtedly about Spitfire for the past month. It sickened him to the pit of his stomach that corrupt, lying reporters were making a living out of destroying others reputations. He decided at that moment to continue with the interview. He owed it to his former fans. The truth needed to be told, and, as Trenderhoof stated, no one knew the truth better than he did. There was no witness more credible than him. "I will continue, but under one condition," he stated.

"Of course," Trenderhoof agreed. "What is it?"

"I don't want you to spin this as a hit piece on Spitfire. Do you understand me?"

Trenderhoof smiled. "Of course."

Soarin took a deep breath, thinking of how he should begin. "It was never easy for me, despite what Spitfire had always thought," he finally said, his determined gaze locked on the eyes of the interviewer sitting across from him. "Joining the most elite flying team in all of Equestria was my childhood dream. When the board extended their invitation to me after the end of my first year in the academy, I was beside myself with excitement. Despite my middling abilities, I felt that I was special in some way. But it wasn't long before I regretted accepting their offer. Spitfire despised me from the first moment she met me. I was unable to figure out why. At first I thought it was some sort of hazing ritual..."

Soarin continued on with the interview, even after the egg timer went off. Fifteen minutes was what he promised, but now that he had started, he couldn't stop himself. He stopped momentarily to turn the oven off, then returned to the chronicling of his experiences with Spitfire.

"Fleetfoot held her back, but it was ultimately Princess Twilight Sparkle's intervention that made her relent," Soarin concluded on the story regarding the recording that sparked the whole controversy.

Trenderhoof stroked his chin in a contemplative manner. "And what about those things she said? I won't repeat them, but, certain... Uhm... Slurs were deployed during this time, were they not?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Soarin asked suspiciously. "Are you trying to get me to say that she's a racist?"

"Well," Trenderhoof said, tapping the eraser of his pencil on the wooden table, "is she?"

Soarin sighed. "No, okay? She was just angry." He paused and reflected on the regretful things he had once said to Applejack in his anger. The confusion, the misunderstanding, the implications and accusations. He knew he would cringe every time he thought back to that time of his life. "We've all said things we've regretted when we were angry."

"I suppose that is true," Trenderhoof replied, his tone laced with a hint of doubt for Soarin's vindication. "But, to so viciously shout such -- invectives -- to one's face in such a way. It makes one wonder."

Soarin glared at him. "If you've led me during this interview so you can attach your own context to things--'

"Not to worry, Soarin. I assure you, I would do nothing of the sort. I just can't help but be outraged for you in light of the things I've heard tonight."

Soarin didn't like the sound of that. Had he gone overboard with his story? Before he would say another word he reached out toward the tape recorder and turned it off. "Trenderhoof," he said, "go easy on her when you publish this."

"I promise to only publish what is necessary." He turned the recorder back on. "Well, it's getting late, and its about time I was off. I have a train to catch tomorrow morning, and I've yet to book myself a room for the night... Unless..."

"You're not staying here," Soarin cut him off.

"Blame a guy for trying." Trenderhoof shrugged with that upbeat smile of his. "I do have one more matter of business though. Soarin, do you have any last words?"

"Last words," Soarin said dryly, "why, am I being executed?"

Trenderhoof laughed. "No, no, no. You know what I mean. if Spitfire was sitting across from you right now instead of me, and you had the last word before you parted ways and never saw each other again, what would they be? I'm sure everyone would like to know in light of everything you've shared."

Spitfire not having the last word? Soarin almost laughed when he heard that. That would be the day. He thought and he thought. He didn't want to go out on some stupid quip or witty insult. That would be something Spitfire would have done. "Spitfire," he ventured, "In spite of everything that has happened between us, I can't bring myself to hate you, because, ultimately, I pity you.

"Despite what you think, I really did try my best. Unfortunately, I could only try so hard for so long, but you eventually won. You wore me down, and you eventually made me every bit as miserable as you are. You crushed my soul, Spitfire. It was you who made me the walking husk of self-loathing I have been for the past couple of years. But I've left all that behind me now, and, I would extend an olive branch to you, so we could end this on a mutually positive note, but you've made it abundantly clear that that's not what you want. Neither one of us can take back what's been done, but you can prevent future tragedies, such as the one you're going through right now. Do what I did: Learn to laugh, love, and enjoy life, before it's too late." After a pause, Soarin then sat back in his chair and nodded to indicate that he was finished.

"Strong words," Trenderhoof commented. "Strong words that not only Spitfire could learn from, but all of us as well." He placed a hoof over the recording device and clicked it off. "Well, unless there's anything else, I'd say we're done here."

"Yeah, that's pretty much all I have to say," Soarin agreed. "I'm sorry for treating you with so much hostility earlier."

"I'm sorry for forcing my way into your home; not the proudest moment in my career," Replied Trenderhoof as he gathered up his things. "It's not like I can blame you, though. To tell you the truth, I despise those in my profession as well. The media is the most powerful weapon in the world. It has the ability to render the guilty innocent and the innocent guilty. A persuasive enough writer can act as a parasite as it burrows in the minds of its hosts and controls their every thought and action."

"That's surprisingly deep coming from you."

"Why, thank you!" Trenderhoof smiled, his teeth gleaming. "I plagiarized it off an anecdote column I read some years ago."

"I'll never get over these things you so unabashedly admit to me."

Trenderhoof's eyes glinted mischievously. "I'm a journalist, shame is a foreign concept to me."

As Soarin led the way to the front door, he noticed Apple Bloom sitting silently in Granny's rocker. "How long have you been sitting there?"

"Ah let mahself in through the front door around the time you was threatening to bash Slenderhoof's head in."

Trenderhoof didn't bother to correct her.

Soarin held the front door open for the reporter, who regarded him with a polite nod before he strode past him. "Farewell, Soarin. Thank you so much for the interview."

"Thanks for giving me the opportunity to talk about everything," Soarin said. "It feels kind of good to actually summarize everything in its entirety, you know?"

"Others talk, I listen. It's what I do for a living, Soarin." And Trenderhoof bade him farewell before he departed for town. Soarin watched him as he disappeared into the night, his somewhat flamboyant stride evoking theories that contradicted the fact that he had once had a crush on Applejack.

Apple Bloom sat beside him on the front porch, a plate containing a lukewarm slice of pizza balanced delicately on her hoof.

"Heard the whole thing, did you?" Soarin asked her.

"Yup," Apple Bloom said cheerfully. She took an experimental bite of the pizza, and her eyes lit up. "This is delicious!"

"Did it get cold?"

"A bit, but the oven kept it pretty warm." She took another eager bite and mumbled, "You made this yerself?"

Soarin chuckled. "Sure did. You'd be surprised how good a homemade pizza made from fresh ingredients can taste. I used to make them all the time with my dad."

"Next time me and mah friends have a slumber party over here, yer doin' the cookin'."

"Glad you like it, kid." Soarin looked up and observed the way Cloudsdale concealed half the moon, the glowing crescent's light reflecting vividly off its cloudy white ridges. "To think, that used to be my home up there."

"Used to be," Apple Bloom emphasized. "Yer an Apple now. Don't you forget it. And if you ever try to leave, Ah'll lasso you and drag you back mahself."

"That's never gonna happen." He spared his former home one last passing glance, the longing and nostalgia he had once felt for the place long dead. "I'm right where I need to be."

Comments

[The Mop Is AFK]

That was a strong chapter, I love it thank you kind sir.

[Wing]

Mmm, this updating makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside.

[Vailen]

Loved the Fallout 3 reference there. The the part with the interview was good to.

[Piemaster128]

YAY! UPDATE! More please

[NoFace]

Am I the only one who expected bombs after lamp oil and rope were listed in the supplies?

This chapter was worth the wait, I'm very curious how the interview and leaks of Spitfire being a massive bitch in this story play out.

[Iamsorry]

this was satisfying
like i liked how he was the bigger person.
it was very enjoyable.

[The Chronicler]

Hmm... Do you plan on expanding this to run parallel with the series?

[edwinflores428]

I gotta wonder though, about the effects of both the recording & the resulting interview that will get publish will cause. Hundreds if not thousands of pegasi look up to the Wonderbolts. and now it's revealed it's filled with assholes, corruption and anger...how many dreams have shattered when Spitfire spouted those hateful slurs in her anger...how many are now reconsidering other career options...heck...how many in the Wonderbolt Academy are now considering to resign?

And what of Rainbow Dash? Will she abandon the wonderbolts...or will she rise to the top and fix what was once broken and toxic?

other than that, really good chapter man! Glad to see this updated ^^

[TDR]

now lets see if slender lives up to his word.

[Cotton Sweet]

After the multiple different revisions to the previous chapter, I really like how this chapter played out as a followup.

That said, I spotted a few errors:

Because two frogs are not enough and four is toomay,

Should be 'too many'.

Until next time, philly's and gentle colts,

Should be 'fillies'.
Additionally, there are a few scattered instances where you used the word 'passed', which should be 'past'.

Other than those three things, I didn't really notice any glaring issues with grammar or spelling.

[Raistlin]

8376754

One wonders if there will be Wonderbolts at all by the end of the year.
And is it bad if I want Fleetfoot to get some flak too?

[Boomstick Mick]

8376596
I can't believe somebody actually caught that reference... Hat's off to you, sir. You've proved your nerdiness.

[Fusion Blaster]

Holy crap.. a new chapter... that's actually a new chapter...

IT'S REAL!!!

Okay I'm mostly just kidding and giving you grief. That was a really good chapter. I really do love how he bounces off of Bloom

[Boomstick Mick]

8376791
Thanks for letting me know. I went ahead and made those corrections.

[KarmaDash]

This was so cute. I'm glad the family are all bonding :D

[DelusionalEye]

8376754
Oh wow now that you mention it, it's likely they're going to try their hardest to recruite Rainbow Dash as a publicity stunt. What better way to improve the image of the Wonderbolts than having one of those six heroes of Equestria, The element of Loyalty no less, join the team?

[Dreadnought]

Nice to see this story is still going.

Dreadnought

[General Tyrus]

Hell of a ride, but I loved it mate, glad to have read what was done so far, and I can't wait for the next update.

God Speed

[HB_DS2013]

I miss Tree Frog- I mean Three Dog.