Seeds of Life

by Freglz

Him

Big Macintosh said nothing for a long, long while.

He stared at her, lips parting, eyes widening, ears angling back, a deep, cavernous hole opening up within him. What could he say, if not the obvious?

“Are you sure?”

Applejack held his gaze and nodded slowly. “Positive,” she answered. Her tone was shaky, but he could tell she was trying her best to sound resolute. “There’s a stick under the pillow in my bedroom. Ninety-nine percent accurate.”

“Then you should try again, right? Take another and—”

“That was the second. I flushed the first.”

He sat frozen, a chill dancing through him.

“It can’t be wrong, Mac. Not with odds like that.”

He lowered his gaze and swallowed hard. His throat suddenly felt very, very dry, and there was a curdling in his stomach — the kind he got when he’d had one too many apples; even as a farmer himself, he had to admit there were limits. And right now, he’d have eaten the whole orchard if it meant getting out of… this. Not that he didn’t care for her, no — of course he did — but he was pretty sure she was almost thinking the exact same thing.

“You haven’t, uh… been with any—”

“I wish I had.”

The words stung like the crack of a whip. They didn’t hurt his pride, because Celestia knew it was something neither of them were all that proud of, but they way she said it — so frank and straightforward… That’s what stung; she meant it, and she didn’t have any reservations about saying it. And the worst part was he couldn’t blame her.

If there were another culprit, this would’ve still been an awkward and troubling situation, but it wouldn’t have been as upsetting. And that was putting it extremely mildly. Couple the outcome here with why they’d done it to begin with…

He folded his forelegs and looked down at the dirt through the gloom, trying to keep his breathing calm and measured. She’d come all this way to tell him this, and she wouldn’t have risked telling him unless she felt she had to, especially with the reunion going on. She was normally so strong, but it seemed this was her breaking point. He had to be brave for her, in that case.

If only he felt much braver himself.

“But I thought…” he began, squinting, and then peered up at her. “Weren’t you…?”

She lowered her focus to the ground, ears flattening against her head and hindlegs pulling in a little closer. Her weight shifted, no doubt making room for her tail. “Must’ve come into heat early,” she meekly said, hugging her stomach. “Explains why… why I encouraged you.”

His brows creased. “AJ…”

“I shouldn’t have.” She stiffly shook her head, eyes half-closed and distant. “It’s my fault. It wasn’t right and I knew it, but—”

“AJ, it’s nopony’s…”

He drifted off, realising what he was about to say wasn’t entirely accurate. He was the one who found her alone on the couch, crying. He was the one who sat down beside her and held her close. He was the one who told her everything would be okay and kissed her forehead.

He was the one who didn’t resist when she kissed back.

“…We’re both to blame.”

“But I wanted it,” she snapped in anguish, peering up at him again. “You didn’t make the first move: I did. How could it be your fault if you just… sat there and took it?”

Mac felt a sharp pang of guilt and returned his attention to the floor. They hadn’t talked about that night, immediately after or since, and if that’s the view she was taking, this talk was long overdue. And following a lengthy pause, he looked her in the eyes once more — emerald like his, but brighter. More lively. Even marred by worry, they were still beautiful. “Well,” he murmured uneasily, “maybe I wanted it too.”

Applejack blinked, as if the concept were somehow foreign to her.

Her hesitancy borrowed him time to gather his thoughts. He swallowed as he sat a little more upright, hoping to moisten his throat and mouth, then chewed his cheek as he glanced off to the side for a moment. “I didn’t… mean for it to reach that point, AJ. I just wanted to show you I’d always be there for you, even with Ma and Pa gone.”

She remained silent, her expression unchanged.

“But when you did the same…” Mac slowly, listlessly shrugged, caught on the memory. And as he did so, he found himself beginning to trace her physique. He quickly lowered his gaze to the dirt, ashamed. “I couldn’t help myself.”

Still, Applejack said nothing. Perhaps she was realising what the conversation had shifted to, and was coming to terms with it. But then she took a short breath in and a heavy one out, blinking like she’d been awoken from some kind of trance, and looked away, lips pursed. Deep in thought. She wasn’t angry, or distraught, or anything of the sort. Just brooding. Figuring out what to say and the right way to say it.

Mac waited. His teeth chattered faintly — anxiety building like steam in a teakettle. Nowhere near the point where he’d burst, but noticeable.

“I don’t want to sound like I’m not in control of myself…” Applejack mumbled, shaking her head, “but something in me that night… broke, I guess.”

“Eeyup,” Mac sombrely agreed.

“I don’t know what it was.” She shrugged. “Grief? Hormones? Did I… not want to be alone that badly?”

He nodded pensively. “Could be all three.”

“But doesn’t that seem… wrong at all?” She returned to him with furrowed brows and parted lips, equal parts confused and disturbed. “I… we did… that… because we missed Ma and Pa, not even three days after they passed?”

He licked his lips and gazed up at the wooden wall behind her in thought. “It does.”

“But we did it anyway.”

“We did.”

Applejack paused for a long while, fixing him with a pleading look. “But why?”

Mac blew a long, deep sigh. His throat was dry again. And after a few moments, he looked down to his left, reached over, and picked out a bottle of cranberry cider from the crate beside his bale. “You said it yourself,” he finally answered, popping the lid and taking a sip. “Grief, hormones, not wanting to be alone.”

Her expression tightened as she shook her head once more. “That still doesn’t seem right.”

“And when would it be?”

She hesitated, before shrugging yet again. “I don’t know. Probably never.”

As he waited for her to continue, Mac took a proper swig. It was sweet on the tongue, bubbly as it went down. Not strong enough for him to feel the effects from a single glass, but soothing all the same. Granny would’ve had a field day if she caught him drunk anyhow.

“It wasn’t supposed to happen. Any of this.” Applejack’s gaze drifted right, growing distant, and Mac spied the subtle glint of tears forming. “But we…”

“We needed it.”

She returned to him, still a little lost, but at least she was present.

“We needed each other.”

She frowned to herself as she bit her lip. And then she shook her head for a third time, looking grimly at her stomach. “You can say that all you like, Mac, but… that doesn’t change what’s become of it.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s not true,” he countered humourlessly, reaching for the crate once more and tossing her a bottle.

She caught it just in time with a gasp and a wince. And when she settled down, she didn’t seem too appreciative, holding the bottle sideways between her forehooves and staring at the glass intently. What her intent was, though, he couldn’t tell.

Maybe he’d been a bit too presumptuous. Maybe he shouldn’t have made that point. Maybe he should’ve known better and kept his mouth shut like he promised he would. And the longer the silence dragged on, the more unsure of himself he felt. He opened his mouth to say something.

“We made a mistake.”

And then he slowly closed it, letting her finish.

“A big, dumb… fun mistake.” She broke into a small, mischievous, melancholy smirk, taking a guilty pleasure in savouring the memory. It was a cute look on her. But then the look faded to something less playful and she popped the top off and had a drink. “And look where it’s gotten us.”

“Eeyup.”

More silence followed, but it was the comfortable sort. One where they sipped and drank took everything in. What they now faced. What they could do. What it all meant. And in the background, the reunion continued as if nothing out of the ordinary were happening in the slightest. All that stood between them and the everypony else was a couple dozen yards and a few wooden planks. And if the two worlds clashed…

There was enough ammunition here for the whole clan to walk away changed forever.

“Guess there’s only one question left,” Applejack mused, watching as she swirled the cider about in her half-empty bottle. “What do we do now?”

“Eeyup.”

She peered up at him and cocked an eyebrow. “That’s your new catchphrase, is it?”

Big Macintosh shrugged.

Sighing softly, she looked away and shook her head to herself, slouching with her elbows on her knees. And then, with another deep breath, she returned to him. “So, what do you think?”

Being put in the spotlight wasn’t unexpected — she looked to his advice often and this time was no different. Except it was; it involved him. And he couldn’t back out of this without running off to somewhere far, far away, where nopony knew his name.

But he wasn’t doing that. Never mind the practicalities or lack thereof, or the strain on his moral character. He simply didn’t want to go. No way, no how. Applejack was here, Granny was here, his family was here. Whatever happened, he knew where he belonged.

“I think it’s up to you.”

She blinked, confused, drawing her head back slightly and sitting a little more upright. “You don’t want to have a say in it?”

He shook his head and took another sip. “I messed up. That’s on me. But it’s your body, your choice. You do what you think’s best for you.”

She paused again, angling her head inquisitively. “And if I decided… not to have it?”

“Then you’d better do it safely,” he advised, even if part of him felt wrong for saying it so casually. “With professional help, of course. Either way, you’ll have to explain yourself to Granny sooner or later.”

And in an instant, her newfound strength failed and she sagged. “Can’t believe I almost forgot about her,” she groaned, covering her face with a foreleg and dragging it down. “Sweet Celestia, what am I going to say?”

“You fooled around, like ponies our age usually do?”

She flashed him a warning glare.

“Hey, you wanted suggestions.”

“Well, you don’t need to sound so flippant about it.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “And what you prefer I sound like?”

She rolled her eyes in exasperation. “I don’t know, concerned?”

“Never said I wasn’t.” He finished off his cider with a short, final swig, and after making sure there was nothing besides the tiny droplets always leftover, he set the bottle at his hooves. “But fretting over it ain’t going to do nopony any good, us least of all. Especially you.”

“Damn it, Mac, can’t you be a little less stoic for once?”

He lightly shook his head with a sympathetic grin. “You know I can’t, AJ. Not while you’re like this. Not when you need somepony to talk to.”

Applejack held his gaze for a long moment, then cast it down and hugged herself tighter, slouching forward. She stayed like that for a while, gently rocking, silently staring, brows creased as she chewed her cheeks and swung her hindlegs. And then she shook her head. “I’m scared, Mac.”

“Me too.” He nodded and sighed. “Me too.”

“And if there’s one thing I know for certain, it’s we’re never doing that again.”

His ear twitched, and a mischievous smirk of his own tugged at his mouth. “Well…”

Another glare shot his way.

And then the smirk was gone. “Of course not,” he assured, a small, understanding smile taking its place. “Never again.”

“Good,” she huffed, and after a brief pause to make the point stuck, she turned away from him once more. “Sorry, I’m just… not in a joking mood right now.”

“Fair enough.” He nodded soberly and understandingly yet again. “Between us, you definitely have the short end of the stick. No doubt about that.”

Applejack downed the rest of her cider as well. “Nope.”

“Can’t say I envy you.”

“I can,” she said impassively, watching as she swirled the empty bottle around in the loose grip of her fetlock. “First time in my life I’ve found myself wondering what it’s like to be a boy.”

“I bet there’s a spell for that.”

She snorted and smirked despite herself. “Yeah. There’ll be a spell for everything soon enough. Except the things that count.”

Mac’s smile fell. “Applejack…”

“I know, I know, there’s no use fretting,” she waved him off and sighed, “I just wish things had been different. That we saw more of them. Did more with them. Not got angry at them when we were in the wrong. That we…”

Big Mac waited.

“…That we were there for them when it mattered.”

“We were.”

She looked up at him.

“We always were.” He gave a slow, solemn shrug. “And they were there for us.”

“Then why doesn’t it feel like enough?”

He paused for a moment, then let out a quiet sigh and sagged. “Maybe it never does.”

Another silence. Long and heavy. The air was thick with an invisible fog. They’d reached an impasse, where all they needed to say had been said, and pretty much anything from that point on would be redundant. They’d be treading old ground, finding fears they’d already put to rest.

And yet, they didn’t leave. They didn’t want to face the music — the reality. Perhaps if they simply stayed here, everything would be fine. Perhaps nopony would find them, and the world outside would function as normal, never sparing them a second thought. It was a pleasant fantasy, but it wasn’t meant to be. Things had happened, things were going to happen. It was time to face them head-on.

“Whatever you choose, AJ, I’ll be there for you.” Big Mac returned to her and watched her soberly. He didn’t smile, he didn’t pout, but he wasn’t expressionless either; he was encouraging. “Always have, always will be. That’s what brothers do.”

“That’s what fathers do too.”

His breath caught in the back of his throat, but he forced the small sense of panic down and refused to let it show. Instead, he slid off, slowly strolled forward, and sat down in front of her. And then he hugged her close, head over her shoulder, hers over his, and he closed his eyes and relished the scent of her mane. “It’s what families do.”

Another long moment of stillness reigned, and then Applejack nuzzled into his neck and wrapped her forelegs under his, linking them behind his back.

Silence again, and their world was at peace, neither wanting to leave the warmth and embrace of the other. But it couldn’t last forever. There was one question left; one final obstacle they had to overcome. So, with a heavy heart and a tender squeeze, Big Mac broke the spell.

“What’re you going to do?”

Comments

[The Mystery Fluttershy Fan]

Whew-weee!
Got to take a break from imitating Applejack so much as a Narrator in this chapter. Recorded and will be edited soon.

[The Mystery Fluttershy Fan]