III: Bargaining
When your mom is sick and your dad's depressed and you're just a confused little kid, it's easy to convince yourself that you can fix things. Just be better, be nicer, help around the house. Get good grades. Learn to cook your own breakfast. Help bring in the harvest.
But parents aren't wobbly tables or beat-up blinds or squeaky closet doors or blown-out light bulbs. There isn't a toolbox in the world that can stop someone from dying. Not forever.
Then your dad pulls the trigger and your mom pulls the plug and it's your fault.
Because you weren't good enough.
And it hurts worse than if it'd just happened, because it's your fault now. You did this, you let this happen, you didn't try hard enough and your parents are dead.
So, in a way, it was good that Pinkie didn't wanna get up. At least from her bed she wasn't trying to fix it.
For a while, she stayed there. I brought every meal up to her, and we ate together on her old and lumpy mattress, and she would lean against me and listen to me talk about anything that wasn't parents or family or sadness.
We talked a lot about Winona and Gummy. And Spike's allergies (he apparently developed a quartz sensitivity and it was driving Twilight up the wall with worry). And a radio program we both liked. Light things. Silly things. Tiny frustrations.
She was tired. She didn't talk much. I carried those conversations happily.
But then, one day, she came downstairs.
We were all surprised. Maud and Marble were struck completely silent as she stood on the threshold, staring into the kitchen.
"H-hey, Pinkie," Limestone said. "You're up."
She said it darkly.
Maud shot her a look.
"Uh. I mean. You're up!" she tried again, more cheerfully.
"Hi," Pinkie said. Her face was blank, no emotion at all—just a wide-open innocence and emptiness as she experienced a world beyond her bedroom. "What's for breakfast?"
I bolted up from the table, chair squealing under me. "Anything you like!" I said. “I-I’ve got eggs fried, scrambled, and poached, I’ve got toast and fruit and—you want flapjacks again? I can make flapjacks! Or waffles! Do you girls have a waffle iron?”
Pinkie just stood there, numb and wide-eyed. “Uhm… I guess I’ll have some toast.”
“Toast, comin’ right up,” I said, already whirring away to start the preparation. “With butter, right? A nice golden brown?”
Pinkie shrugged.
“You got it, Pinks.”
She hovered in the doorway for a moment longer, just staring at the breakfast table with those glassy blue eyes.
“Why don’t you sit here?” Limestone offered, pulling out a chair for her.
Pinkie nodded.
I turned my back and began the preparations for her breakfast. I couldn’t say I’d ever actually cooked the mare a meal, but I’d eaten with her often enough to know exactly how she likes her food. Not that she’s picky, of course. She’s never been picky. She likes everyone and everything just as they are.
But she really likes sugar. And butter. And extravagance.
And coffee.
Marble made a small sound. Not much more than a peep. Certainly not a word.
“I’m okay,” Pinkie replied. “Just a little shaky. Do you ever get shaky? I feel like I’m… shaky.”
Maybe no coffee.
“You’ve spent almost a hundred and twenty consecutive hours in bed,” Maud informed her. “Your muscles have already started to atrophy.”
I made a small sound of discomfort. “Is that a fact?”
“No biggie,” Limestone cut in, ignoring my remark completely. “We’ll get you back on your hooves. A little farm work will help those muscles—right girls?”
“Correct,” Maud said.
“Mhm,” Marble added.
Pinkie actually smiled at that. “Thanks,” she said.
There were still a lot of things about the Pie family I didn’t quite get, I guess.
A bell rang, and a piece of perfectly done toast popped out of the toaster. I grabbed it and slapped it on a plate, slathered it in butter and dropped it in front of Pinkie.
“There y’are,” I said. “Now, you just say the word and I’ll get you anything else you like. I’ll even run out and pick up takeout if you want. Hayburgers or stirfry or some pizza—anything at all. Does that sound good?”
Pinkie looked up at me. “Just the toast for now, AJ. Thank you.”
I gave her a squeeze around the shoulders and nuzzled into her mane. “Well. You just let me know if you change your mind.”
Pinkie didn’t say anything, but I felt her lean a little harder into me. Felt her shoulders swell with a deep breath. I think she even tilted her head up to meet my snout, but only the tiniest bit.
When I pulled away, the Pie sisters were staring at me.
They quickly looked back down at their food or out the window.
Pinkie picked up her toast and took a small, timid bite. Her tongue poked out the corner of her mouth to lick away the butter that clung to her fur.
I pulled one of the two remaining chairs out from the table and sat down. “Uh… speaking of the rock farm, do y’all need any help with that today?” I asked. “I’m more’n happy to suit up and get out there.”
“There is no suit for rock farming,” Maud corrected me.
I thought about making a frock-related joke, but decided to hold my tongue. “Well, whatever you need, then.”
“Maud and I have been okay the past few days,” Limestone said. “We’re downsizing, anyway.”
She almost finished the thought.
Two less mouths to feed.
But she held it back, as well.
That was all part of the dance, I guess. Keeping to the light topics. Weaving around the dread, but weaving around the fun, too. Couldn’t make jokes. Couldn’t talk about the worst stuff. Just small talk—but small talk with friends. With family.
It never felt right.
Pinkie took another bite of her toast, and the crunch broke the silence. “So… did you guys hear anything?”
Limestone knit her brows. “Hear anything?” she repeated. “What, like… last night?”
“From the police,” Pinkie prompted.
She said the word slowly. Like a hiss. Like it was hard.
“O-oh.” Limestone’s face fell. “Maud?”
Maud cleared her throat. “There have been no new developments, as far as we know,” she said. “The… physical evidence is stalled.”
It was the first time I’d ever heard Maud hesitate at all.
“Well… you don’t really think it was a…” she licked her lips, then whispered, “a bear?”
A bear?
It caught me a bit off guard.
A bear.
I thought…
I dunno what I thought.
Pinkie hadn’t told me. I hadn’t thought to ask—so preoccupied with taking care of her and the house and the girls that I—I mean, not that I would have asked, otherwise. It’s not the sort of thing you ask. It’s the sort of thing you leave alone and wait for someone to offer, and they either do or they don’t.
“Pinkie, we kinda hafta go with what the police tell us on this one,” Limestone said, a twinge of frustration creeping into her voice. “If they say it’s a bear, then it’s a bear. We have to live with that.”
“But what if—” Pinkie stopped herself. She didn’t really know what-if. “What if it wasn’t?”
Limestone sighed.
Marble looked down at her hooves.
I think my jaw just hung open. I didn’t know what to do or say, and I didn’t dare take a guess.
“More than half of adults missing for over twenty four hours are not found,” Maud said. She evidently didn’t feel the need to elaborate. I don’t know where she got that statistic.
Pinkie stared at her.
Glared at her.
A look which grew from nothing, a sharpness not in her features but in the actual look. In her eyes. Deep down. Slow and seething and directed.
Maud weathered it like it was nothing.
“I think we should be looking,” Pinkie said simply.
Not a timid request. Not a stray thought. A direction. An action. An order.
“Pinkie, it’s—”
“Don’t ‘Pinkie’ me!” Pinkie shot back. “I… I think we should be looking! And I don’t think you should all treat me like I’m stupid just because I let myself be sad!”
Complete and total silence.
Utter vacuum.
Accusations piled on accusations.
Pinkie shot up from her seat and grabbed her plate. “I’m gonna go do what we all should be doing and read about bear attacks,” she said. “C’mon, AJ.”
I froze.
The sisters stared at me—all four of them—daring me to make a move.
I swallowed hard. “Uh… in a minute, Pinks,” I wheezed. “I’d like to… to talk to your sisters, here.”
Pinkie snorted softly and turned to go, her flat tail dragging along the hardwood behind her.
The four of us sat in silence as Pinkie left. We listened as she climbed the stairs. As she pulled encyclopedias off the shelf. As the door to her bedroom closed behind her.
Maud was the first to break the silence. “You cannot let her do this.”
Limestone scoffed. “No duh, Maud. She knows that,” she said. “Letting Pinkie get all caught up in her crap is never a good idea—right, AJ?”
“W-well, I—”
“It needs to be a bear,” Maud said. “Otherwise, she’ll never get over it.”
“Right. Exactly,” Limestone agreed. “You’re gonna stop her, right?”
Marble looked up, too. Looked me right in the gotdang eye.
I stuttered something breathy and nonsensical. “Well, why me? Huh?” I spat. “Y’all are perfectly capable of telling her off. Why do I gotta be the one to do it?”
Limestone rolled her eyes. “For the love of—because you’re Applejack.”
Maud stared dead at me.
Marble nodded.
“I… don’t follow.”
“You’re Applejack, for crying out loud!” Limestone repeated. “The great, mythical Applejack. Fights the good fight, does no wrong, the best and the brightest and the only pony Pinkie ever talks about.”
I blinked. “The only—”
“She loves you,” Limestone said. “You know that, don’t you?”
I sighed and slumped back in my chair. “I know, I know,” I said. “Why do you think I’m out here?”
The sisters exchanged a look.
I tried to share it, but it wasn’t a look that was meant to be shared.
“No, no,” Limestone said, a note of confusion in her once perfectly sharp voice. “Like… she loves you. She is in love with you. She has been since she met you. Probably before that, even.”
Marble nodded.
“It’s true,” Maud agreed. “Pinkie talks about you more than your other friends. A noticeable amount.”
“But—” I stuttered again.
The girls stared at me.
I paused, took a breath, and let out a small, nervous chuckle. “No. you’re mistaken. That's not—”
“We know her,” Limestone said. “She loves you.”
“But—”
“I don't know that she knows that she loves you, but she does.”
Maud nodded.
Marble cracked a small, sympathetic smile.
I huffed softly and shifted in my seat. I could feel myself starting to blush, and did my best to force it down, but it only seemed to make it worse. “Well, how in the hay can you be so sure?” I demanded. "Pinkie loves everyone."
The girls exchanged another look.
Limestone heaved a sigh. “Well, you're right. Pinkie does love literally everyone,” she said. "She's the friendliest pony in the entire universe, and she loves everyone she meets.”
I rolled my eyes. "That's what I said."
“Pinkie only has one setting when it comes to love,” Maud added. “You probably love different ponies different amounts. Pinkie loves everyone the same.”
“Now I know that ain’t true,” I argued.
“We know how it sounds, but… well, Pinkie’s always been kinda weird when it comes to that stuff,” Limestone said. “Like… social stuff. It’s not like she actually loves strangers as much as she loves her own family, it’s just that she doesn’t get how to separate things.”
Marble nodded along.
I scowled at all three of them.
“When we were younger, she'd drag home strays like they were her best buddies, which turned to having them at family dinners, which turned to sleeping over…” Limestone laughed lightly as she internally reminisced. “She's never actually dated anyone in so many words, but I think that's because her boundaries are blurry. She doesn't know the difference between family and friendship and romantic love. It's all the same to her. It's all a 10/10 on the love scale.”
My skepticism softened.
That… did sound like the Pinkie I knew. Sweet as all get-out, but strange in that way. A confusing way of being that I couldn’t quite picture.
Admirable though. I’d give her that. The world would be a better place if we were all a little more like Pinkie Pie.
I scratched my head with one hoof.
“That sounds like her, doesn’t it?” Limestone asked.
“Yeah, yeah…” I muttered.
“So take our word for it,” Limestone said. “We know her. She loves you. You didn’t notice because she’s… Pinkie.”
“It’s a perfectly acceptable reason,” Maud added.
“Mhm,” Marble agreed.
I rubbed my eyes.
I had a question, but it just felt… I dunno, stupid. So selfish, given the circumstances.
“You want to know why she likes you,” Maud observed.
My hooves dropped to the table, and I’m certain I flushed a dark shade of red. “What? No. I-I never said—”
Limestone scoffed. “I mean, c’mon, Applejack,” she said.
I raised my eyebrows.
Limestone raised them back. “You’re actually serious?”
I didn’t know what to say. I just shrugged.
Limestone leaned back in her chair and folded her legs over her chest. “You're smart, strong, aloof, and you look like that,” she said. “Enough said.”
Marble actually snickered.
Maud seemed unfazed.
I growled softly to myself. “Yeah, but—”
“You're also abrasive, stone-cold honest, and you let her do the talking,” Limestone interrupted. “Most ponies might be fed up with that pretty quick, but that's what she grew up with.”
I looked at the ponies sitting across from me.
Rude, brash Limestone. Overly-direct Maud. Quiet, ever-listening Marble.
Now that they pointed it out, it was hard not to see it.
“Those aren't character flaws to her, they're familiarity.”
“Hey, who says they’re character flaws?”
Limestone only chuckled in response.
“You're everything she loves about her family and her friends in one pony,” Maud said. “It makes sense that she’d fall in love with you. It’s practical.”
I could barely laugh at that as I buried my face in my hooves on the kitchen table. The girls didn’t say anything out loud, but I was sure they were communicating just fine without any words at all. Just pointed looks and hoof motions. Probably at me. Maybe some in Pinkie’s direction.
“What am I supposed to do?” I mumbled.
There was a pause.
“Huh?”
I lifted my head. “I said, ‘what am I supposed to do?’ About Pinkie?” I repeated. “I’m here to help her with the farm and junk, not… whatever y’all want me to do.”
“We don’t want you to do anything,” Maud said. “We just want you to know.”
“She's a little nuts because this is the first time she's ever lost anyone,” Limestone added. “And now she's scared she's gonna start losing other ponies, too. And she's Pinkie, so she doesn't know how to cope with that.”
I clenched my jaw.
“Look, you have leverage we don’t in this situation,” Limestone explained softly. “Just… go be with her, and try to get her off the police crap. Show her you’re not going anywhere.”
Show her you're not going anywhere.
I'm sure she didn't mean it to hurt the way it did, but that little bit of advice walloped me in the chest. I remember thinking that way. I remember clinging to my dad's leg, thinking 'please, please don't get sick'.
If I'd known then the sort of sickness my dad had, maybe it would have worked.
All I knew was that I couldn't stand to lose one more pony. I thought that while I looked at my mama laying in her bed in the hospital: at least my dad is still here.
And then he wasn't.
I pushed away from the table wordlessly.
The sisters all perked up and watched as I turned to go, heading up the stairs once again to Pinkie's bedroom.
Suddenly, it all felt like grade school again. Like I had to act different because now I knew Pinkie like-liked me, and she had cooties or something that I was supposed to avoid. My face burned as I rounded the landing and climbed the second small flight of stairs.
I walked down the hall and placed a gentle hoof on Pinkie's door.
Just… be there.
Let her know you're not going anywhere.
Get her to lay off the research.
I took a breath and opened the door.
Pinkie looked up at me, doe-eyed and stunningly emotionless, from a hunched position on her mattress. In front of her was an encyclopedia, open to an image of a grizzly bear.
The bright, shocked look in her eyes softened when she saw me. "What did my sisters say?"
Pinkie is in love with you.
"Uh… nothing you don't already know, I guess." Not totally a lie. Unless it was. "They're just worried aboucha. They wanna make things easier for you, but they don't know how."
Pinkie huffed and looked back down at the book. "Well, for starters, they could stop acting like they're not sad and scared," she muttered. "They make me feel like such a baby sometimes. Even Marble."
I heaved a great sigh and walked to the bed. It creaked under me as I sat on the very edge. "It's nothin' to do with you," I said.
Pinkie scrunched up her snout and made a small sound of disagreement.
"I remember Big Mac bein' just the same way." I shook my head and chuckled dryly. "It was just his way. Mine too, if I'm honest. Some ponies just clam up and ignore it, 'cause they don't know what else to do."
Pinkie grumbled again. She hunched over further, her straight and silky mane slipping out from behind her ear and forming a curtain between herself and me.
Before I could think about it, I'd reached out with one hoof.
I gently pulled her mane away from her face.
Behind it, she was burning. Fuming and hot, tears running down her cheek.
But that little bit of innocence returned. A bit of surprise that I'd done what I did.
"Hey," I said.
Pinkie sniffled.
"You know we all love you, don't you?"
Pinkie hesitated, but nodded once.
"Sometimes ponies do funny things when they're grieving," I said. "Your sisters ain't immune to that. Neither are you."
I nodded to the book.
Pinkie suddenly looked betrayed. "But I—"
"I'm not gonna stop you from readin'," I said. "I just wanna put things in perspective."
Pinkie turned away from my hoof. "I don't want perspective," she seethed.
I sighed again. "I know it."
"I want to do something."
"I know."
"I want to fix it," Pinkie said, her voice suddenly breaking through stronger than it had been before. "I want them to fix it!"
She looked up at me.
She didn't look much like Pinkie Pie.
Her face was a splotchy red, that patchy sort of blush that comes through when you're crying and trying not to cry. Her fur was cut through with well-trodden tear tracks. Her eyes were red and glassy. And now, with that glare replacing the blank slate she'd worn lately…
But I didn't let it phase me.
I just looked at her. I let my own face do whatever I thought was best—a crooked, sympathetic smile and may or may not have looked sincere.
Pinkie tried to hold her glare, but it quickly dissolved.
"Why won't they try?" Pinkie asked softly.
I shrugged. "It's just not where they are right now," I said. "They might be tomorrow. They might have been before you got home."
"That's not fair."
"I know."
"Why can't we all do it the same way?"
"I dunno. I wish you could."
"I thought being home was gonna make me feel better," Pinkie mumbled. "But I just feel so lonely. Like my sisters aren't even here."
I swung my hind legs up onto the mattress and scooted to a position across from Pinkie. "How's that?"
Pinkie made a small sound and screwed her eyes shut. "I thought Marble was gonna be… just so sad. Like, holed up in her room crying sad. And Limestone gets so angry! I thought she'd be angry, but she just seems awkward," she said. "Maud is trying to be funny, which is just so… weird."
I furrowed my brows a bit.
Not exactly my read of the situation, but certainly a read.
"It's just… weird," Pinkie whispered. "Sorry. I guess it doesn't make any sense."
I shook my head. "That makes perfect sense."
Pinkie's hooves climbed up, and she hugged herself tightly. "I dunno…" she said. "But… I am glad you're here, Jackie. Since you're normal."
Jackie.
Pinkie was the only one who called me that. I honestly don't know why—it was a perfectly acceptable nickname, but only she ever seemed to use it.
It warmed me. A glimpse of the Pinkie I knew.
I leaned over and put a hoof on her shoulder. "I promise I'll be as normal as I can," I said, a little smile on my face. "And I'm not going anywhere. Okay?"
Pinkie allowed the shadow of a smile to cross her face. "Okay."
"Okay," I repeated. Firm, but loving.
We looked at one another for a long moment. Just seeing each other. Knowing we were both there, both safe, both somewhere.
The longer we looked, though, the more Pinkie's smile seemed to fade.
"Now," I said, breaking the silence. "What's all this about grizzlies?"
Pinkie blinked. It took her a moment to break out of her glassy-eyed confusion, but she refocused on the paper in front of her and began scanning the text.
She sighed, apparently out of frustration, then spun the book to face me. "You look."
I bit my lip, glanced at Pinkie (who avoided my eyes), and started to read.
"Uh. Well, let's see here…" I muttered.
The South Equestrian Brown Bear, more commonly known as the Grizzly Bear, is a subspecies of Brown Bear residing in the Southern forested regions of Equestria. Grizzly Bears possess long, powerful claws adapted for digging, and are commonly found on the outer regions of forests near equine activity. Grizzly bears have been known to observe ponies and mimic their food-acquiring actions; sightings of Grizzlies retrieving food from trash cans and even harvesting fruits and vegetables from farmland are not uncommon.
While Grizzlies are typically concerned with protecting their food and their young, and prefer not to interact with ponies, attacks are still a possibility. Practicing bear safety is usually enough to stave off lethal encounters—traveling in groups of six or more, properly storing food and trash, keeping one's distance from any Grizzly, etc.
I scratched my head with one hoof. "I dunno. The usual, I s'pose," I said. "Have y'all ever had bear problems before?"
Pinkie looked up at the ceiling, lost in thought. "When I was really little, I guess," she said slowly. "I remember my dad bought a rifle after he thought he saw a bear digging up rocks in the northern fields."
I scowled.
"But that's silly, right?" Pinkie tapped her chin. "I mean… that a bear would dig up rocks?"
I looked back down at the book. "Well… maybe not as silly as it seems." I spun the book around to face Pinkie again and pointed to a passage. "It says here that Grizzlies watch ponies to figure out where food is. Maybe a Grizzly watched a… a potato farmer or somethin', and thought the same trick would work."
Pinkie's eyes slowly scanned the text. She seemed to have trouble staying focused, and she blinked blearily a few times before giving up.
"It's not impossible," I said, taking the book back.
Pinkie only sighed. She wouldn't look me in the eye.
I chewed harder on my lip.
It was hard.
I feel like I'm saying that a lot, but it's so hard to say anything more than that. Maybe I'm just not so good with words, but I really do feel like there aren't words for it.
I feel guilty no matter what I do.
I feel like everything I say is a mistake.
I feel like I'm not doing good enough at taking care of her.
And that's hard.
I guess that's why it slipped out.
"But… well, your folks were prepared, right?" I offered.
Pinkie looked up, suddenly hopeful. "Right."
And I regretted saying it even more than keeping it to myself.
Even so, Pinkie's hope was faint. Clouded by doubt and rationality.
Pinkie.
Rational.
I coughed. "So. There's that, then."
Pinkie stared at me a moment longer. Then she nodded, deathly serious, and looked back down at her hooves.
There was quiet.
There's a game you play with grief. Especially the uncertain kind. You bat around hope and chance like you're playing badminton, wondering if maybe, maybe, maybe… I think the doctors called it "bargaining". I feel like I remember that.
I think there just comes a point where you'd trade anything to fix it. And, for a while, you pretend that you can.
But the trouble is that you're always pretending. That sense of doom, that cloud over your head , never truly goes away. It still hangs there. And sometimes you catch yourself hoping, and you suddenly feel so stupid and small.
Stupid for being sad.
Stupid for pretending not to be.
Everything you do is wrong.
I sighed. "Can I ask you a question?"
Pinkie looked up. She didn't say anything, just gave me those wide-open eyes.
I swallowed. "If the police are wrong… what do you think happened?"
It was like it was the first time she'd ever even thought about it. "Um. I dunno."
I looked at her. Watched the gears turn. Watched the thoughts form and unform. Watched the theories unravel. The hope unravel.
"Well… well, the police found b-blood and Grizzly fur," Pinkie said, a struggle in her throat. She cleared it. "Maybe… maybe they shot a Grizzly and it didn't die. Maybe they followed it into the woods."
I nodded.
"There was a rifle missing," Pinkie added.
A rifle missing.
No happy ending starts with a rifle missing.
Pinkie didn't pick that thread up. She just let it hang there, loose and unburdened by explanation.
I can see the story the police must have pieced together from all that. A Grizzly attack, probably on Pinkie's mom. Maybe a death. Maybe dragged off to a cave somewhere—there were caves around here, weren't there? Pinkie's dad grabbing a rifle and heading out in a late-night hunt that ended just as poorly as it did for her mom.
It was hard to think about.
I suddenly found myself wondering how all of this unraveled. Was it Marble who went looking for them? Limestone who found the blood and the fur and the missing rifle? Did they hear gunshots from bed? Did they start their day as usual only to sit at the empty kitchen table, wondering why their parents were getting such a late start?
I looked over at Pinkie.
Her thousand-yard stare was unbreakable. Right down into the mattress.
I wanted to hug her, but it didn't seem like the time.
I cleared my throat.
She looked up at me.
Are you okay?
Can I give you a hug?
Do you really love me the way your sisters say?
"You never finished your toast," I said.
Pinkie blinked. "Oh. Yeah."
"Are ya hungry?" I asked.
Pinkie thought about it, then shrugged.
I sighed. "Yeah. I getcha."
I closed the encyclopedia and dropped it off the side of the mattress. Pinkie rolled over onto her back and squirmed into place against her pillow.
"Applejack?" she asked softly.
"What is it, sugar cube?"
She hesitated. "What… what happened to your parents?"
I had been expecting, I guess.
Kinda silly to think I wouldn't be asked at some point.
It still caught me off-guard, though. A question I'm never really ready to answer from a pony I didn't want to upset any more.
But I guess… what's upsetting to me might be camaraderie to her.
"Uh. They were sick," I said.
Not exactly a lie, but not exactly the truth.
"Oh," Pinkie said, like she hadn't been expecting it. "For a long time?"
I sighed. "Their whole lives, I think."
"Are…" she trailed off, thought about, then said: "are you sick, too?"
Was I?
"I don't really know," I said.
Hollow.
Shaky.
I didn't.
I didn't, and that was the first time I'd really thought about it.
Was I sick?
Sick like my mom?
Like my dad?
"I hope not," I squeaked out.
"Promise?" Pinkie said softly.
I looked at her. "Hm?"
She closed her eyes. "Promise you're not sick?"
I stuttered wordlessly for a moment. "Pinkie, I—"
"You have to promise, Jackie."
I closed my mouth.
Promise.
Promise not to get sick.
Not like dad.
I looked at Pinkie, and the way she'd screwed her eyes shut, trembling with the thought of losing someone else. Just absolutely shaking like a leaf in the middle of her twin bed, in the middle of her favorite quilt I'd never seen before, in the middle of her childhood bedroom that was now far too small for a pony that still felt like a kid.
Slowly, gently, I lowered myself down next to her.
I gathered her up in my legs. All four. An all-over embrace that was only as tight as a blanket cocoon, but I hoped that it was what she needed.
She resisted.
That surprised me.
But, then again, it didn't.
"I promise," I whispered. "I promise, Pinkie. I'm not gonna get sick like my dad."
Pinkie shuddered, and the resistance stopped.
"Promise?" she repeated.
"I promise."
"You're not lying?"
"I'm not lying."
"You're not gonna go missing?"
"I'm staying right here."
She tangled her forelegs into mine and pulled me closer.
"Promise?" she whispered, barely audible through the thickness of tears rising in her throat.
I nodded. "Promise."
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It's definitely a rarer pairing around these parts, but I'm thrilled to hear that you've enjoyed it :) I hope the rest of the story pays off for you!
This was definitely a hard one for me to write. I drew on a lot of loss I've experienced personally, as well as losses I've seen others through (both the Pinkie Pie and the Applejack perspective, I guess). I'm glad it's resonating with people, though I'd never wish this kind of pain on someone else.
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Like the cover art
That was a interesting story. Goodluck with the rest of it.
Dang, this keeps getting heavier in multiple ways.
this is some good writing
oh man how did you SO CONCISELY sum up one of my favourite aspects of applepie. also this chapter made me bawl my eyes out. i adored the sisterly relationships so much
oof, that is such an awful burden for anyone to carry, much less a child. poor Applejack and Pinkie
ah, can't imagine Limestone being any good at hiding her real feelings
and the Applejack thing to try to make things better by being as helpful as possible is really shining through here
and that is one of the many things that is so wonderful about Pinkie!
oh yeah, i'd imagine the awkwardness here
hehe, classic Maud literalness. and yeah, Applejack wouldn't be feeling secure enough in her connection with the Pie sisters to make jokes
oof, yeah. this is that type of honesty Applejack was talking about earlier
oof! so much going on here in terms of family dynamics. the rock farm and her sad, gray sisters are the ones Pinkie left behind in order to live a more exciting and colorful life with her friends that just pop out of the fabric of the world, and this is what it looks like from the other side
augh this is such a perfect summary of Pinkie Pie! and why the way she is would cause friction with ponies who are not like her. it's something that's been bouncing around in my head for a long time now, but i've never been able to put it into words like this
and Applejack's conclusion is exactly what i think of her! i couldn't be like her myself, but i am glad that she can, and wish there were more Pinkies in the world
hehe nice
augh, this is just so amazing! i never made that connection before but now i cannot unsee it, either. wow, this is really fascinating to think about. dangit, Mush, i thought i loved ApplePie before but that was just based on my feelings about them, and this is really making me feel more like a connaisseuse about it
and oof, so true. her sisters do know Pinkie Pie
augh, and that ties back into the guilt she had about it earlier. it makes more sense why she would blame herself, and more tragic
i can just picture this, so very Applejack. and loved the description of Pinkie here, just so much fine detail that really captures where she is in the story right now
and yeah, i can definitely understand why Pinkie would expect her sisters to act this way, but thanks to this fic i now myself cannot. it's really molding the way i think of the Pie sisters and how they understand each other. and of course, i love the disagreement on Maud here, very true to the Maud/Pinkie relationship
aww, and it warms me, too! it's such a wonderful little thing that i can only imagine Pinkie doing
this Chekov's shotgun keeps coming up again and again! and given the way Applejack described her father's death earlier, i can guess why her first reaction was a scowl
oof, returning back to the start of the chapter, and the recurring theme that there is no magic way to fix things, and how each pony responds to that
so many different ways for these pieces to fit together in the end! and that it's a mystery to unravel alongside the emotional journey of the main characters does remind me of The Architect's Wings, and The Haunting of Carousel Boutique, and Radiowaves. it's like a mushroompone genre!
oof, really feel this, and the sickening fear that must come with it. it blindsided me too as it does Applejack here, as i never considered this fear
such a powerful chapter. i feel like i don't have the words for it, just want to say that i love how deep you dig into these characters and the tragedy of this awfully inevitable part of life