The Honeymoon

by CrackedInkWell

Chapter 9

The sheriff’s office was a bit more crowded than usual. Most of the time, the tiny jail had seen a few spending time from public drunkenness to the occasional robbery. However, tonight was different. In a cell that was no bigger than a restroom, it was almost packed with miners, the bartender, and Rock Slide with his back against the bars. With deputies keeping an eye on them both from inside the sheriff’s and guarding outside - escape was not an option. There was nothing else to do except wait for them to be moved to the nearest town that has a courthouse - in Appaloosa.

Rock Slide could already predict the sentence he’ll get. Manufacturing and distributing Sky Salt: seven years. Drug trafficking said Sky Salt: at least forty years. Espionage on a detective agency: ten years or more. Attempted theft: half a year. Assault and battery of two civilians: two years. Resisting arrest: three years. In total (if he was lucky) he will be looking forward to fifty-nine-and-a-half years in prison.

“Howdy sheriff.” And of course, betray the trust of one’s coltfrined: practically a life sentence. “I would like to have a word with one of the prisoners.”

“Which one?”

“Rock Slide.” Although Rock didn’t see it with his back turned, he could hear in Braeburn’s voice the cold, disappointed anger in his voice when he called him.

With the bars sliding open, Rock was forced out by the sheriff. Since the only space for any privacy was outside, he was led out and hoofcuffed to one of the posts that held up the porch roof. Rock sat on his hunches, eyes away from Braeburn. He didn’t have to see that he was upset. He could already see him sitting down, crossing his forelegs, and a look on his face that could melt through solid steel. Much like being set in front of a firing squad, he already knew what was coming.

“So,” Braeburn began, “Where do Ah start?”

Rock didn’t say anything.

“Should Ah begin with the whole the charges set against ya? Perhaps the fact that you’ve been doin’ this behind the agency’s back? Maybe havin’ you explain the real reason why you couldn’t bother ta spend more time with me and instead dedicated to something so…” He paused, there was a shuffling noise when Rock felt a hoof under his chin to make him turn his head towards him. “Are ya even listening ta me?”

“What if Ah’m not?”

“Oh, Ah know just the place where we could start! How about the fact that after years of you bein’ there fer me, havin’ ta jump hoops ta get a better life in Appaloosa, joinin’ up with the Pinkertons, sayin’ that you’ll love me no matter what - that after all that, ya had the gull to say. Buck… You… Braeburn.”

Rock forced his head away, “And?”

Then he was slapped. Hard. So hard that he was stunned, wide-eyed. In all the years he had known Braeburn, he had never struck him, ever. But how he saw Braeburn staring him with daggers in his eyes.

“... That was for arrogance,” Braeburn said, stepping off the porch yet eyeing him. “Ya know what hurts the most? Not that you were behind the Sky Salt operation up here. Not that you lied ta the agency. Not because even that ya hurt two civilians, on the honeymoon no less. But you never once told me that maybe, just maybe, we should’ve broken up.”

Rock rubbed his cheek, “What do ya want me to say?”

“How about the truth? It doesn’t matter ta me if it’s the worst thing Ah ever heard. It won’t matter if Ah found out what you really think of me or why you were a back-stabbin’ double agent. Ah don’t give a damn what your real reason is, but at least, have the common decency ta say it ta mah face.”

Frowning, Rock spat over to the side. “You won’t like it.”

“Does it matter if Ah like it?”

“Good point.” Rock looked up at the stars in the sky. “Ah did love ya once upon a time. Back when we were teens and thought what we had would last forever, all Ah wanted was fer us ta get out of this town once and for all. It was obvious. This town might be tiny, but ya know what everyone thought about us. ‘Can’t believe we have fags in town.’ ‘Maybe they’re jus’ confused.’ ‘When do ya think they’re gonna find the right mare and realize this is jus’ a phase.’ Even mah Pa thought that Ah was less than worthless, was even glad to hear Ah was movin’ out.

“So when we moved to the middle of nowhere ta build Appaloosa, Ah thought surely we would be left in peace at last. But a funny thing happened. The more ponies came to settle, the more I saw those same attitudes rear their ugly heads again. Here we were, two gays with nothin’ but the shirts on our backs, workin’ hard ta create a life for ourselves, and what did those ponies say about us? ‘They’ll just let anyone in these days.’ Even after things calmed down with the buffalo and more ponies moved in, a funny thing happened. A lesbian couple moved in - and the town practically rolled out the red carpet fer them! They said they had wealth to give, and everypony there let them in with open hooves. Not us, and you know it. Funny how ponies toss rose peddles for two mares, but Celestia forbid if ya happened ta be colts! Especially when ya don’t have much ta begin with.”

“Well, what did ya think about us gettin’ a job as a Pinkerton was?” Braeburn pointed out. “Ya know they don’t discriminate anyone.”

Rock raised an eyebrow. “Do they? Tell me, did ya know that despite our hard work, we actually get less than most of the agents there? Oh yeah, Ah looked into it and sure enough, we get a smaller paycheck by several bits compared to a gumshoe jus’ startin’ out! So when we were given the assignment ta look into where the Sky Salt came from - a thought came ta me. Ponies often buy hundreds fer a few bags of this stuff. They make more bits in one day than we do in a year. Ya might think Ah was selling my soul here, but what choice is there?”

“So is that why you’ve gone most of the time? Turning turncoat fer money?”

Rock frowned and shook his head. “Ya know, this is exactly why Ah didn’t tell ya in the first place. Fer being a detective, you’re sure lousy in pickin’ up the details. Of course, it’s illegal, but what’s the alternative, Brae? We could just do what we’re doin’ but have everypony back at home believe that we worth nothin’, or we can have money and have the respect that’s been unfairly denied ta us. I’ve busted my rear just so those dumb rednecks would shut up. And the reason why Ah didn’t bother to tell ya, is that Ah know you. You would’ve had a heart attack over it, jump down my throat before Ah could get a word out.”

“Now hang on, if ya just let me-”

“What?” Rock suddenly, loudly cut him off. “Talk? Ya know, for years that’s all you’ve been doin’. Talk talk talk, yada yada yada, bla bla bla, lettin’ yer mouth run all over Equestria and back long before ya could stop fer five minutes to what Ah might have ta say.”

Braeburn frowned and crossed his forelegs defensively. “C’mon Rock. Bits don’t have anythin’ ta do with respect.”

“No? Tell it ta the honeymoon couple in town. Everyone knows those two are loaded. They practically stink of it! Do ya think fer one moment that if they weren’t, would they even be treated any better in Dodge Junction of all places? No. Of course not. They’d probably would had been kicked out of that inn days ago.”

For a while, Braeburn looked at him silently. In disbelief at what he’s hearing. “Ah don’t know you anymore.” He shook his head. “With all that we had in common, Ah’m now seein’ one major difference between us.”

“And what’s that?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Believe it or not, Ah’m not entirely neïve that there is darkness out there - among ponies especially. But where I stared into that abyss and never once lost mah decency, mah principles, mah compassion - you gave up.” Braeburn adjusted his stetson. “Maybe in another time, in another world even, we might’ve gone passed this long ago. But as of right now, because of your dishonesty, you’re nothin’ more than a memory.”

Rock shook his head, “Be as optimistic as you want, it’s not gonna change ponies' minds about you.”

“Maybe you’re right. But that doesn’t mean Ah have ta stoop to you’re level either. Do me last favor Rock. Go to Taterus, and stay there.”

Shouting for the Sheriff that he had enough, Rock was taken back into the holding cell, leaving Braeburn alone. Underneath the stars, he had a long walk ahead of him towards his old folks home.

---

Light green with cobalt blue. Sunset orange with dark pink. Violet with crimson red. Dejon yellow with dark green.

Braeburn didn’t think watching an artist paint would be interesting, but he was fascinated by how Acrylic approached it. After sending Fancy away to get to a hospital, Acrylic spent the entire morning working on a new painting. Once setting up his essel, Acrylic quickly drew out a sketch of the garden. Of its trees, the outline of the grass, the flowers, and the empty birdcage - trying his best to get it just about right before he started mixing colors. Every so often Acrylic would pause to step back for a moment, muttering about something being, “Too blue.” Or “Too green.” But with every dab of paint, every fast brushstroke, every careful attention to a certain line here and there, the painting began to form itself.

“Ya sure you ain’t hot out here?” Braeburn asked, bringing over a picture of lemonade and a few glasses.

“Hot? Not really. Tired?” Acrylic let out a sigh, making a careful step back. Slowly so that he wouldn’t hurt himself. “Yeah, I think I should stop for a minute.” Setting his brushes and pallet down, he accepted a glass from Braeburn. “I think it’s almost there.”

“Can’t believe that it took ya all mornin’ ta get ta this point,” Braeburn said between sips. “Here Ah thought it would take ya much longer somehow.”

“With bigger canvases? Absolutely. But with it being so small, it takes less time. Still, it does take a while to get it just right.”

“Shoo, Ah almost wish Ah had your talent fer somethin’ like this. It’s honestly impressive and just as gorgeous as the real thin’.” After another sip, Braeburn asked, “So Ah take it that you’re gonna take this back with ya?”

Acrylic looked between Braeburn and the painting. “Once it’s done,” he said, “it’s yours.”

“Wait, seriously?” Braeburn blinked.

“Why not? After the past few days, it’s the least I could do.” Acrylic gulped the drink and after a pause, he ventured to ask. “So… not to pry or anything. I know that Rock was your coltfriend but… how are ya, really?”

“Eh… Ah’ll be fine.” Braeburn looked away, but by the way he said it, Acrylic picked up that wasn’t entirely true. “Still… After everythin’ Ah’ve looked inta, Ah hoped that with where all the evidence pointed at, that maybe Ah might be wrong.”

“I wished I had something to say. Only… I don’t exactly know what.”

“It’s fine, ‘sides, y’all had nothin’ ta do with it. But after somethin’ like that, it leaves ya thinkin’, ya know? Could Ah even date anypony after somethin’ like that? Ah mean, Ah’ve trusted ‘em. Thought he was the one fer me but… apparently not.”

Acrylic shrugged. “Kinda reminds me of myself in a way.”

Braeburn raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

“Well… once upon a time, I wasn’t the artist that you see. After immigrating to Equestria, I felt isolated for a long, long time. My paintings didn’t sell and with me being in the closet, I genuinely thought of myself as a loser. Undatable even to where I was convinced nopony would be insane enough to love me. So, when it turned out that Canterlot’s most elite of the elite not only encouraged my work, not only offered me a job but said he loved me - I didn’t buy it at first. But if there’s anything I’ve learned, is that words are cheap. But actions always tell the truth. And his actions said that despite me being a pony wrapped in a nest of issues, that he cares. Maybe, not everypony you’ll meet would turn out what you thought they were, but that doesn’t mean that you were bad.

“Huh…” Braeburn blinked, “Never thought of it like that.”

“It’s something that I’m still learning. And while I haven’t quite got it right yet, it is still worth working on.”

“Maybe. But after yesterday… Ah think Ah need time.”

“Hey, nothing wrong with that. Sometimes a break is always needed.”

“Yeah.” He nodded, “Still, there is at least one silver linin’. At least Ah got ta meet you and your hubby. Don’t know that many rich folks, but y’all seemed rather nice.”

“Thank you. Maybe one of these days we should invite you over for dinner. I don’t know when, but I take it once we’re back to our non-broken selves, we should have you over.”

“In Canterlot?”

“Fancy can arrange a ride for you. I promise the dinners are to die for.”

Braeburn chuckled. “Ah’d like that. And hey, maybe ya can come down ta AAAAAAAAPAAALOOSA!” Acrylic stared at him, “What?”

“Do you always do that?”

“Hey, Ah’m proud of it.”

“... Fair enough.” Acrylic downed the rest of the lemonade, handing it back to Braeburn. “Still, I think this painting will be done very soon.”

“Will ya be headin’ back ta the inn?”

“I guess so. Why?”

“Ta be frank, Ah’ve seen that room of yers and after everythin’, maybe it wouldn’t hurt if ya took the guest room fer the night. At least it has more elbow room fer ya ta sleep until tomorrow.”

Acrylic picked up his pallet and brush, “Let me finish this, and then we’ll talk about it.”

Braeburn retreated back into the house with the picture and glasses. Acrylic turned back to the garden. All that was left was the birdcage to paint in. As he worked, he reflected on this whole honeymoon thing.

To anyone outside looking in, this might go down as possibly the worst trip ever. And in several ways, it certainly was. There were plenty of things that went wrong. Plenty of things that they got involved with that neither would expected from the beginning. Yet, the more Acrylic thought about it, the more amused it was for him to imagine what it would be like to have them explain to ponies in Canterlot. To try to recount their honeymoon with an audience of shocked looks, disbelief in their eyes as if to say: “No! No! No!” After all, they had a story that was unbelievable and, maybe too good to keep to themselves.

Of course, by tomorrow morning, he will get on the first train out to meet up with his husband. But as of now, at least Acrylic had something just as unique as the painting he’s finishing.

The End.

Author's Note:

And done! After all these years, it's finally done!

If you have stuck this far, or just reading this for the first time, allow me to answer one question that you might have wondered.

What took this story so long?

The short answer was that back in the days when I used to co-write with Milo, we were determined to have the sequel to "The Last Impressionist" that we would write it to the end. And well... Milo lost interest in the Brony fandom but insisted we would finish the story. Years later, that still didn't happen.

When going back on these unfinished stories, and jotting down notes on what I could do with them, I realized that this one would be the quickest to be finished first as it was only missing a couple of chapters. And now, finally, it's done.