Applejack's Ticket
Applejack’s Ticket
Bernie Madhoof shook the dust of a seedy Manehatten hotel off his hooves as he trotted up the pathway to his grandiose castle. The mare of the night had put up a grand ol’ fight this time; her neck had met his molars more than once, shuddering with delight. The encounter, along with a few glasses of fine whiskey—not enough to intoxicate him, in case Libra was still awake—had been his celebration, his party of one.
He let loose a contented sigh, his breath permeating the night air like dragon smoke. All would come to pass, and very, very soon. Kerosene and gasoline, smoke and flame would set him free at last. All he had to do was wait and bide, and strike when the guards had left the gates around Libra’s heart.
The stallion had hoped it would never come to this, that his wife would learn her place at his hooves and his fillies would grow into fine, respectable, submissive daughters alongside their mother. Of course, Fate laughed at Bernie Madhoof, granting him all of the bits in Manehatten but none of his other dreams. He’d asked for fillies, and he’d been granted colts.
He hated other males, and that included the father who molded him with heavy hooves and the brother who’d abandoned him long ago for some foolish, vagabond dream. There were a few other stallions who’d dared to cross him, but the cruel hooves of Fate had snipped their threads short. One of the thugs had passed away in his sleep; the other had collapsed in the desert with his whore of a wife.
Sometimes, Bernie Madhoof didn’t even have to make an effort to get what was rightfully his.
As he fumbled with the front door key, Bernie found himself wondering whether Libra Scales had visited the bank today. He certainly hoped so.
Key met lock, and tumbler turned, as the king returned to his royal home.
~
Citrus Blossom and Libra Scales were not particularly tall or muscular mares, and both paid sufficient attention to their figures to fight an influx of adipose tissues brought about by far too many sweets. They would have gobbled up every last pie, cake, and cobbler in Manehatten if they could, but Life is never that forgiving. Everything has its price.
The two were grateful for their self-control, huddled on Citrus Blossom’s full-size bed, barely enough room for them to stretch their hooves. They didn’t particularly mind. Sleep beckoned but did not arrive.
“I wish we would’ve bought more than one king-sized bed for this Celestia-damned place,” Libra Scales said, doing her best to get comfortable and not fall off of the edge of the mattress.
“A-greed,” Citrus replied. “Or at least a queen.”
The Witching Hour blared its arrival on the wind-up alarm clock from across the room. Dawn would be breaking within a few hours. It seemed more practical now to just stay up for the rest of the day.
Citrus Blossom groaned, burying her head in a pillow. “Ugh. It’s way too late to still be awake still, but my brain doesn’t understand that.”
“Brains are finicky things, sometimes,” Libra Scales said in agreement.
“That’s puttin’ it lightly, Mom. Sheesh. I just… I can’t let this ticket thing out of my mind.” Citrus flipped herself over and sat upright under the covers. “How can we decide? And what about Dad? What would he think?”
A deep sadness appeared in Libra's eyes. “He’d probably offer to send Babs off with a huge celebration, inviting all of the Manehatten elites and telling them that she was going off to some grand boarding school. And then he’d get drunk in that room over there,” she added, motioning with her muzzle towards the wall of Babs Seed’s bedroom.
Citrus said nothing as she digested her mother’s words.
Silence fell between them.
And then, “But… but…y ouze said Dad was getting better, didn’t you? He’s certainly more polite than usual, more… warm—”
“Who am I kidding here, Citrus?” Libra said, meeting Citrus's sorrowful eyes. “Who am I kidding? He’s gone, he’s been gone for a long time. His mind isn’t the same. It’s… changed, long before any of this, years ago.”
“… Do you know what prompted the change?”
“I don’t know." She sighed. “I’ve tried to unravel the mystery myself for some time now, tried to pinpoint what happened. I think it started when Orange Enterprises really took off. That’s when we upgraded the house and started expanding the business. You were just a little foal then. He started buying more and more things, some of which were actually quite useful, or at least beautiful. He’d bring me expensive jewelry, and fine art, and rare bottles of wine. And he hired more servants to take care of the mansion. Greyhoof was the first, but then, over time, he hired more and more hooves. He also started staying out later and later, playing golf or meeting with clients—at least, that’s what he’d claimed—and it’s only been the past few years that the drinking escalated. I’m not sure what prompted that. His father died, not too long ago, your grandpa… Do ya remember him?”
Citrus Blossom shook her head. “I must have been too young, Mom, to remember.”
Libra Scales replied, “You didn’t miss much. He downright despised the fact that your father and I both ran the company. He seemed to think that a mare’s place was in the home, and the home alone.”
Citrus sneered and spat back, “What a stinkin’ a—“
“No, no, Citrus, he was from a different era and a different mentality,” Libra scolded, cutting off the insult. “We didn’t see eye-to-eye, but I wished him no ill. It’s just who he was. And who he was, your father has become… and will always remain.”
Citrus blinked. “Always?”
Libra buried her face in her forehooves. “I fear… I fear that he hasn’t changed, that he will never change, Citrus. That I'll just let another twenty years pass me by, and I’ll be in this same, dark place.”
Citrus embraced her mother, tears filling her eyes. “But… but… Mom… can’t youze just… just…”
“No,” Libra said, her voice muffled by her forehooves. “No, Citrus. I promised myself that I wouldn’t, as long as he never... as long as he never…”
“… Hit us?” Citrus Blossom guessed.
Her mother leapt from her tears, slamming a forehoof over her daughter’s mouth. “Don’t you ever say that again. Don’t you. Say that. Again. Citrus.” Her words were deadpan, bred of fear, reared by superstition. Speaking of awful things could summon the demons of such dark possibility from below, and make them possess Fate and change its course.
Though she hated herself for thinking such a twisted thought, as she attempted her best smile and slow nod, comforting her weeping guardian, Citrus Blossom wished Bernie Madhoof would just cross the threshold and strike them all, if it meant they could run.
~
The stallion trotted up the stairs, doing his best not to make a sound, quiet as the mice he had long exterminated from his paradise. His blood was flooded with testosterone, his virility proven once already and crying out to be tested again. Perhaps Libra was still awake.
As he rounded the second level, making his way to the master bedroom, his plans were jolted off their pedestal by the noise of somepony snoring.
Libra Scales never snored.
Bernie Madhoof gently creaked open the door to his throne room, just a crack, just wide enough to see the Dirtville duo themselves and that rotten filly defiling his marriage bed with their dust and drool.
He clenched his teeth, catching the sound of his fury before it dissipated into the atmosphere. The injustice of the sight infuriated him; couldn’t these awful Apples dirty up one of the guest rooms instead? And hadn’t he provided that so-called foal of his with an entire room to herself? The servants had far more use, and they were regulated to the shack on their masters’ property.
Madhoof let loose a low growl, unable to fully adjust his mask in the face of this insult. Across the room, he saw a Stetson move and heard a mare yawn.
Applejack sat upright, lacking Pinkie Sense but suspicious still. The Apple’s eyes met the Orange’s across the room, the latter’s jaw agape, the former feeling a satisfied smile creep across her countenance.
“Good evenin’, Uncle Orange,” Applejack whispered, smug as she rose to all four hooves and strolled over to meet him.
~
The thicket of woods beckoned and called, its voice a pleasant melody into both of her ears. Though the left one was still incomplete—and always would be now—it nevertheless felt none of its previous pain, pleased by the vibrations and sound waves it sensed.
Babs Seed knew that she should not wander the streets anymore, Mother Galaxia having granted her more than one chance for redemption, but the melody continued. It swam in her psyche, pony-paddling across the surface and then breathing deep before diving below, piercing her subconscious. It would become a part of her, tormenting her with its serenade, until she finally fell to her hooves in submission.
But Babs was a leader for a reason; she was no follower, served no master. She decided to take to the Manehatten streets, down the hill of prime real estate and hidden misery, before the song dragged her there itself.
Babs answered its summons, and she was not afraid.
There, concrete and cobblestone faded to long, lush blades of dew-covered grass. The moon reflected in the lake before her, frogs and crickets offering an accompanying harmony to the echoing melody.
There, on a log, waiting, was the bartender and barber of The Watering Hole, her savior.
“Turner,” Babs Seed greeted, trotting slowly towards him. It had been so long since he’d even been a ripple in her conscience, or a nudge in her subconscious. She’d feared she’d been abandoned by another pony once more.
“Hey, kid," Turner said as he smiled. “Come heeya an' talk ta me.” He patted a spot on the log next to him, scooting over as she jumped up to join him. The stallion ruffled her short mane as she grinned at him, both ponies watching the moon as it rose high in the heavens.
“Where have youze been?” Babs asked, locking eyes with her hero.
“Watchin’ youze,” Turner answered, his pupils sparkling in the starlight. “Guidin’ youze, kiddo. Youze been a good foal. Been strong.”
“Youze really think so?!” She gasped, clapping her forehooves together excitedly.
He nodded with a knowing smile. “Yes, lil’ one. Although, there is summat I need ta mention ta youze, befo' I have ta get back ta work.”
“What’s dat?”
“Come heeya, little filly,” he beckoned, motioning for her to approach him even closer. She complied. He lowered his voice, as if to defy the eavesdropping ears of the night guardian. “Youze need ta continue ta be the curious foal youze are, Babs. Youze cannot stop wit’ youze questions, even iffa the obvious is seen. Do youze understand?”
Confused, Babs Seed asked, “What questions, Turner? Why are youze speakin’ in riddles?”
Turner chuckled. “Dear, it’s a riddle only until the curtain falls an' our greatest fears emerge only as actors upon the stage. When all youze demons dance befo' youze, look ‘em in the eye. Look at ‘em, hard. Dey are phantoms. Dey always are. An' youze are a priest in youze own right, an' youze can exorcise them.”
Babs shook her head, finding little clarity in the stallion’s words. “Priest? But, Turner, I know nothin’ o’ religion.”
“An' neither do I,” Turner said, pointing his hooves towards the skies. “But youze see the skies heeya? The stars, the galaxies, the comets, the planets beyond?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Do youze need any faith ta see dis blanket o’ night? Ain’t it beautiful, gods o' no gods? Summat made the stars as dey are, an' regardless o' what dat is, the stars are beautiful. Not everythin’ immaterial requires faith ta face. Not everythin’ dat is real is material, o' visible.
“An' the demons dat chase youze, an' the questions dat haunt youze, dey are not visible o' material things. But, dey are still there, waitin’, an' only when youze face dem, will dey reveal themselves at last—an' youze shall see what dey really are—an' disappear.”
Babs blinked slowly, chewing on his words, swallowing them in bits and pieces in an effort to digest their meaning. Unfortunately, it was still not clear.
“Turner, Slinga, he’s… I faced him already, so is dis ‘bout him?”
Turner shook his head. “Do youze really think he was youze enemy through all o' dis? Dat he is the only demon following youze around?” He rose from the log at last, all four of his hooves groaning with ancient aches as he came back into his natural pose. “Babs, there is one mo’ demon knockin’ at youze door, an' dis one… youze cannot punch away. Youze must ask youzeself the most important question ta vanquish him.”
Joining him on the grass, Babs Seed asked, “An' what is dat?”
Turner smiled, his eyes aging him beyond his years. “The most important question o’ all, in dis twisted world o’ ours, is, ‘Am I where I need ta be, doin' the right thing?’”
~
Applejack met her Uncle Orange at the door, motioning for the stallion to follow her down the stairs. To her surprise, he obliged. She stole a last glance at the foals, moonlight illuminating them, and smiled, not sure if it was the stroke of the twilight hour or something far more mysterious that gave them their halos.
Nearly stumbling as she trotted, the mare followed the stallion, down, down, to the level below, all the while words beginning to form and fight within her consciousness, besting each other for the honor of slipping past her vocal cords.
Without a word, Bernie Madhoof led Applejack to the kitchen, offering his niece a stool as he took one of his own. “Thank ya kindly, Uncle Orange,” she politely remarked, joining him at the table.
“I presume you have an explanation for this.”
Applejack flinched at the sudden venom in his tone. She had not seen the stallion since the days of her foalhood and her own journey of self-discovery. Sure, they had not parted on the best of terms—how can one say, “I cannot live the way you live,” without trampling some feelings underhoof?—but he was still her family, and she expected far much more warmth in his voice in the light of their reunion.
“Well, it’s a long story, really, Unc—“
“You will address me as ‘sir,’ Applejack,” Bernie Madhoof said, drumming a forehoof on the table. “Do you have any idea what time it is? Hurry up with it.”
Applejack felt steam rush out of her ears, almost levitating her Stetson as her temperature rose. “Well, sir, Ah’d be right pleased ta tell ya all ‘bout it, if ya would jus' be patient wit’ me, ‘cause it sure ain’t no simple tale.”
Madhoof just blinked at her, saying nothing. Then, he narrowed his eyelids and snapped, “I’m sorry, were you speaking? All I heard was a bunch of garbage flowing out of your mouth.”
Applejack sputtered, the angel and the devil within her coming to brawls for the prize of a response. “Now jus’ ya hold on one cotton-pickin’ minute right—“
SLAM! The dining room table shook with the force of Bernie Madhoof’s rage as it silenced his niece, hoof meeting oak. He rose from his seat, pointing an accusatory hoof at the mare. “Why. Are. You. And those. Rotten. Foals. In. My. Bedroom.”
The forces of darkness and light, good and evil, are in constant harmony; one cannot exist without the other, and the shadow of each reveals the countenance of its counterpart. They are opposites, indeed, yet sometimes they meet in the middle, seeking and needing balance.
The sacrifices we offer on the altars of hate and love, sin and righteousness, eventually make their way to the same destination, fumes and smoke mixing in the nostrils of our token mysticism—the Most High, Karma, Fate, Life—and it is only by the toss of the dice if our offering is met either with gratitude or refusal. Gods and realities are fickle things.
In Applejack’s case, the little devil within her heart burnt a grand offering to his dark gods, and it was met with songs of praise.
“What the buck did you jus’ say ta me?”
Applejack kicked the stool back with a powerful hindhoof, wood nearly splitting as it thrust against a kitchen cabinet. She strode over to him, pressing her muzzle to his. “Ya did not jus' insult Babs an’ Bloom wit' that lyin' tongue o’ yours. Did ya… Bernie?”
The stallion felt a spring of rage begin to surge beneath his mantle, threatening to erupt like a geyser. However, in a moment of clarity, he remembered kerosene and gasoline, smoke and flame, wait and bide, bribe the guards.
“I’m… I’m sorry, Applejack,” he said slowly, each word feeling absolutely disgusting as it rolled off his tongue. “I… I have been drinking.”
Applejack rolled her eyes. “Oh, really? Ah coulda never guessed. Why, Bernie Madhoof, a drinker? Nopony could ever know.”
“Yes… I’m… troubled,” he continued, summoning all of his might to force the words past his molars. “I have been… working on an important sale all night. Very stressful. But, I am back now, and would like to sleep in my own bed.”
“Well, ain’t that mighty nice.” Applejack stood tall, not moving her muzzle or her eyes from his, lassoing her fury in as tightly as she could. “Unfortunately, sir, yer foal an' ma siblin' were attacked by some crazed mugger in the park ta-night. Damn near cut yer daughter’s ear right clean off, so Ah ain't gonna be wakin' 'em.”
“What?” Bernie Madhoof whispered, the slight feeling of submission that washed over him as he stepped back from the mare overruled by his surprise. “Who did this?”
“Aw, don’t ya pretend ta be concerned!” Applejack sneered. “Ah can see right through yer mask, Madhoof. We’ve known ‘bout yer scandals in Ponyville fer years. Ya might be able ta fool Citrus an' Auntie, at least fer now, but Ah ain’t no ordinary pony.”
Madhoof's mind raced. Had somepony caught wind of his plan? Did he have a brother-in-arms hiding among the hooligans of downtown Manehatten? The Apple foal had not been in his crosshairs, but collateral damage mattered not. Just flame and fuel.
“No, Applejack, I’m serious. Who attacked them?”
Narrowing her eyes, Applejack said, “Not sure! Babs Seed was in no state ta talk ‘bout it, an' Apple Bloom didn’t know him, either. Somethin’ 'bout black an' red. The colors o' evil.”
How fitting, thought the stallion. He said, “Well, in any case, I apologize for my outburst. You see, Applejack, I am very tired, and would like to go to sleep.”
“Again wit’ this? Don’t ya even care 'bout her?!” Applejack demanded.
Bernie Madhoof raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure I follow?”
There it was again—that stuttering and stumbling over her words as the angel and the devil knocked their hooves together. Applejack longed to put her hindhooves to work against something far more sinister and satisfying to kick than any apple tree on Sweet Apple Acres. If it weren’t for the slumbering foals above them, she was not sure she could have resisted such temptation.
Pulling through above the sparring entities, she answered, “Babs Seed. Do ya even care 'bout her, Bernie? Forget me an' Bloom. There’s a reason Ah haven’t been back since ma foalhood, ya know. This city is not fer ponies like me an' the rest o’ ma clan.”
Madhoof marveled at his self-control as he swallowed a laugh.
“In fact,” she continued, “if it weren’t fer Babs Seed, Ah probably wouldn’t have come up here. Ya see, Ah had some extra cider, an' Ah coulda sold it ta anypony, anywhere—Trottingham, Canterlot, hay, even shipped it up ta Cloudsdale. But ya know what? Ah brought it here, wit' one foal, an' Ah intend ta leave wit' two.”
Fate indeed performed most of his dirty work for him, by both strangers and so-called “family”. Bernie Madhoof let his true colors shine, if for only a moment, as he smiled and replied, his voice smoky with pleasure, “I would have no problem with that.”
“Good.”
Trotting slowly out of the kitchen, Madhoof said, “If you need me—I’m sorry, if ya needs me—I’ll be in one of the guest bedrooms for tonight. I’ll let this one slide.”
Applejack growled through her clenched jaws as she watched pure living, breathing slime slink and sludge its way out of the dining room, contaminating everything it touched.
~
As the dawn broke, Apple Bloom stirred, eyes fluttering open to an unfamiliar world.
She panicked for a second, the events of that momentous evening prior playing hide-and-go-seek with her conscious mind. The room was far too grand, far too fancy, to belong to any house in Ponyville—even Rarity could not match such glamor. The room was also too large and too heavily decorated, expensive paintings hanging on the walls, for any hotel Applejack could afford.
The foal snoring gently next to her rushed reality back into her hooves and straight to her heart. Apple Bloom shivered, feeling all of her limbs, checking to make sure that she was still alive. She kicked, just to make sure. Yes, she was alive, not yet a phantasm or poltergeist in the gap between dimensions.
Babs Seed’s bandages were dotted with dried blood but appeared to be otherwise in fair shape. She was still lying in the same position that she’d fallen asleep in last night, hooves curled where Apple Bloom had been.
Even in slumber, she wanted to protect her.
Apple Bloom’s stomach growled. She was surprised by her own hunger. One would think nausea would be better suited for such a morning. Perhaps the return of biological needs signaled a return to normalcy. Or, maybe, Nature is just as heartless as natural selection would make it seem.
If it had been any morning but that morning, Apple Bloom would have barreled down the door and galloped down the stairs to meet Allspice in the kitchen, the scent of breakfast beginning to waft through the floorboards.
However, Apple Bloom was not starving, and could wait a little longer to eat. She could wait for her hero to join her.
Apple Bloom feigned sleep, and laid back down next to Babs Seed, waiting for her to wake.
~
Four mares and a stallion, all adults who should have taken charge of the tumultuous situation that lay before them, sat silently at the dining room table in the Orange Family Mansion, some sipping mugs of coffee, others pretending to be particularly interested in a glass of orange juice. None of them appeared to have much appetite. Other than the occasional cough, clearing of the throat, or drumming of hooves, there was silence, no wisdom shared or solutions offered up.
Libra Scales looked into the eyes of Bernie Madhoof, scanning them for malice or benevolence. They were blank, empty. Nothingness.
Libra had found little sleep. She and Citrus had tossed and turned until they were exhausted. Libra was not sure exactly when Bernie had returned from his business venture, though Applejack had quickly recounted her encounter with him to Libra before he had joined them at the table. From her understanding, Applejack had hurled her proposal at him as well, and he remained unfazed, almost neutral.
It infuriated his wife how absolutely heartless he could be.
The idea of her foal leaving her terrified Libra down to her marrow, down the very core of her heart and soul. Even if it was only finalized by the calm punching of a train ticket, the loss of her filly made Libra Scales want to vomit up every meal she’d ever enjoyed. Babs Seed was the last link in the chain in connection to her deceased sister, and if she left, all she would have left would be memories and regret and unanswered questions.
Libra Scales also feared that it would mean she had failed at her most important job of all, if her own foal abandoned her for greener pastures.
Libra knew she was being selfish and irrational, betraying her cutiemark and her better judgment. Excrement had met the rotating blades of a cooling device; a decision needed to be made. However, if she didn’t have the strange ways of her husband to worry over and the fear for her niece’s and daughter’s safety to deal with as well, perhaps she could think about Applejack’s proposal in a much calmer manner.
And perhaps hogs would sprout pegasus wings and join the Wonderbolts.
Allspice cleared her throat, looking to her masters and guests, breaking the silence with a hearty, “Does anypony else want summat more ta eat o’ drink?” The others shook their heads, staring deep into the heartwood of the table.
“Youze all sure? I made buckwheat pancakes,” she said, injecting a thimble full of positivity into the room. It didn’t work.
“Babs’ favorite,” Citrus Blossom whispered sadly.
Allspice turned and asked, “Um, speakin’ o’ which, will Madame Babs Seed an' Madame Apple Bloom be joinin’ us dis morn?”
“Ah don’t know,” Applejack said, voice flat with neutrality. “Ah have no clue. Ah suppose they’ll be down here soon if they’re hungry.”
The stallion chuckled, filthy thoughts passing through his wretched mind.
“What is so funny, Bernie?” Libra snapped, narrowing her eyes at the stallion.
“Oh, nothing, darling,” Bernie Madhoof said, raising the glass of orange juice to his lips. “Nothing at all,” he said as he gulped the lifeblood of his bank account down his throat.
“Don’t you have some sort of business meeting this morning, Dad?” Citrus asked, eyes meeting with both her mother’s and her cousin’s as they caught her implications.
The stallion harrumphed, clearing his parched throat, and then stole a glance at the clock on the wall. “Hmm. It is early, but Celestia has blessed us this day with glorious sunshine. Perhaps I can start my practice putts a little bit earlier than planned on the green.”
Libra Scales mustered the most genuine grin she could find, and lied through her teeth, “Oh, honey, that sounds so fun, but we’d miss you so if you went now! Apple Bloom and Applejack will be leaving soon.”
Applejack nodded rapidly, turning her attention to Madhoof. “Yup, sir, we’ll be leavin’ soon. In fact, ya might miss us if ya go golfin’ this morn. That’d be a cryin’ shame, don’t ya think?”
Holding back a torrent of laughter, Bernie Madhoof shot back, “Indeed. However, duty calls. The best of business ventures can happen on the green, you know. I’d best be going.”
None of the mares resisted as he finished his glass and trotted out of the door into Celestia’s early morning rays.
~
Babs Seed stirred, feeling a hollow soreness in her limbs and a spreading heat in her left ear. Somehow, she was lucid, and remembered all of it at once: Card Slinger’s rows of piano teeth, Old Scratch’s instrument of choice; the agony of the blade and the iodine; and Apple Bloom in her hooves, sobbing, calling her a Celestia-damned fool and a hero in the same breath.
Surprised I didn’t have anotha nightmare. But it was sure nice ta see Turner again, ta know he’s proud o' me. I missed him.
Apple Bloom peeked open her eyes and whispered, “Good mornin’, sleepy-head.”
Babs chuckled, “Sleepy-head? But I was watchin’ youze open youze eyes, not the otha way ‘round.”
“Oh, yer a silly filly, Babs." Apple Bloom giggled. “Ah’ve been up fer a while now. Ah’ve jus' been waitin' fer ya, that’s all.”
“An' why is dat?”
“Ah figured Ah waited this long ta meet ya the firs’ time, Ah could always wait a lil’ longer ta meet ya every mornin’ again.”
Babs Seed blushed, blood rushing away from her injury to her cheeks, which were now mimicking the shade of her cousin’s mane. “Dat’s… dat’s.. the silliest thing I’ve eva heard.”
The bloom grinned at the seed and said, “But, it made ya smile! Mission accomplished.”
“Youze are ridiculous.”
“Maybe, but ya think Ah’m cute anyway, don’t ya?”
Babs fidgeted, darting her eyes away, and mumbled, “… Maybe.”
~
“So. Enough o' this silence,” Applejack said, pounding a hoof down on the table, sending mugs of coffee and juice nearly ceiling-wards in its wake. “Ah’ve told y’all what Ah’ve done. The colts back at the train station know me well, so Ah got a special one o' these here tickets.”
Applejack reached onto the top of her head, removing her Stetson and retrieving the ticket she’d hidden in the liner of the hat. She gently placed the precious piece of paper—white-and-red patterned with the words, “One-way, Manehatten to Ponyville,” emblazoned on both its sides—in the center of the table, letting it rest with its significance.
“That there ticket has no expiration date. It’s one o’ a kind. They don’t print tickets like this very often, fer obvious reasons. Counterfeitin’ an' whatnot. But Ah’m a regular customer o' this train line, so Ah pulled a few strings.”
Allspice took a deep sip of her coffee, sending the stimulant straight to her heart and hooves. She blinked. the ticket did not disappear. The last vestiges of her slumber, the most peaceful and comfortable she’d had in years, had truly retreated, and here was the truth. “Applejack, youze weren’t kidding.”
“They don’t call me the Element o’ Honesty fer nothin’,” Applejack replied, unable to grace her muzzle with a proud smile. There were far more serious things for her emotions to seize upon and display; no need to throw her pearls before such an insignificant swine as her own pride.
Citrus Blossom and Libra Scales exchanged wary looks. Citrus was the first to speak up. “So, Applejack, if… if Babs does go with youze… what about school? Is Apple Bloom homeschooled?”
Applejack shook her head. “Nope. We’ve got a fine schoolhouse in Ponyville, lovely teacher by the name o’ Cheerilee. Sweetest mare Ah’ve ever met, an' she’s right passionate 'bout her job. The school’s a tad smaller than Manehatten’s, but the education is all the same.”
“I see,” Citrus said. “And the farm? Will Babs be helpin’ you on the farm?”
“Oh, cut it out!” Libra Scales snapped, the next (but not last) pony to vent her frustrations on the innocent dining room table. “Cut it out, Citrus!”
“Mother, what’s wrong?” Citrus asked, worried.
Aunt Orange rose from her seat at the table and turned with wild eyes at Applejack. “Do ya think I’m a bad mother, Applejack? Is that it? Is that why you’re tryin’ to take my own foal away from me?!”
Muzzles met as Libra Scales and Applejack stood against each other, teeth clenched and hooves poised for battle. “Now, ya know Ah don’t mean that, Aunt Orange. Ya know Ah would never be so uncouth ta—“
“No, I don’t know.” Libra growled. “I don’t know anything, Applejack, or at least that’s what you must think! Ya come here, and tell me these awful tales about my own little filly, my own child, and tell me all I’ve missed and am missin’, and you just up and expect me to fall to your hooves in worship and give her up?!”
“Ah never would believe somethin’ as selfish an' dishonest as that!” Applejack snarled back. “Ah even said that this would be a hard thing ta do, an' wasn’t Ah right? Ah can’t imagine what kinda hay ya must be goin’ through, Auntie.”
Libra paused for a moment, three sets of eyes watching her contemplate, before she mumbled back, “I pray you’ll never have to know something like this. You’ll never know, until you become a mother, how much that awful little piece of paper breaks my heart,” she said, pointing a hoof at the ticket as her eyes began to fill with tears again.
Citrus Blossom crossed their war zone and reached towards her mother, shocked as Libra Scales jumped back at her advance.
“I… I should be going to the office… there’s… paperwork…”
Libra Scales heard the cries of her niece and daughter as her hooves echoed throughout the empty floorboards of the Orange Family Mansion, their pleas taunting her ears even as they had long given up any chance of catching her.
~
Apple Bloom guided Babs Seed as they slowly made their way down the stairs. Babs Seed breathed a silent sigh of relief and offered an unspoken prayer with each step, feeling extremely sore but nothing more painful or dangerous. Apple Bloom kept close to her, bracing her in case she went limp again.
It was only twenty steps, but to Babs Seed, it felt like a mile.
No sooner had they reached the foot of the stairwell when Applejack and Citrus Blossom trotted over to them, both mares wearing concerned smiles but otherwise elated to see that their sisters had survived that long, cold dark night.
“Babs, sweetheart!” Citrus embraced her sibling carefully to avoid touching her injury. “Youze can’t imagine how happy I am to see youze walk down the stairs all by yourself.”
Hugging the mare’s neck tightly, Babs replied, “Aw, Citrus, I didn’t do it alone; I have Apple Bloom ta help me.” She looked over to the other foal, who blushed.
Applejack chuckled. “Aw, shucks, ain’t that the sweetest thing ya’ve ever seen, Citrus?”
Citrus Blossom connected the dots at last and nodded with a growing grin. “Why, I do believe it is, Applejack.”
Two mares from different cities, different worlds, and different hearts exchanged knowing glances as they embraced their siblings, connections of all sorts brought to the surface and declared holy. The two foals in their hooves caught eyes also, and though they could not understand the significance of their sisters’ exchange, they felt a weight lifted from their shoulders.
Releasing her hooves from her little sister at last, Applejack said, “Well, we’d best be gettin’ a move on, here, Bloom. If yer hungry, there’s some breakfast in the kitchen fer ya. Eat up befo' we leave. An' you, too, Babs Seed,” she added, winking.
Actresses on Life’s grand stage, Apple Bloom and Babs Seed took their cue, slowly trotting towards the waiting kitchen and the scent of Allspice’s famous buckwheat pancakes.
Citrus Blossom nuzzled Applejack’s neck, chuckling softly, “You’re a lot more open-minded than I’d thought, Applejack.”
Returning the gesture, Applejack shot back, “Ah’m not sure if that’s a compliment o’ an insult, but Ah’ll take it either way. Now,” she began, crossing the threshold and turning to the door, “there’s one mo’ thing Ah want ta tell ya befo' Ah sit out here on the porch an’ wait fer Apple Bloom ta join me.”
“What’s that, Applejack?”
Applejack took a deep breath and said, “Ah know Aunt Orange ain’t gonna give this a true chance; she can’t face facts. An' Ah know Uncle Orange, regardless o' what he thinks, ain’t gonna convince her ta do it, neither. An' maybe you can’t make that call, neither, Citrus. But, there’s one who’s opinion we’ve left clean outta this mess, an' Ah need ya ta speak ta that one.”
Citrus's mind swam with confusion, then suddenly leapt from the sea with realization as she stuttered, “Youze can’t… youze can’t possibly mean…”
“Look,” Applejack said, eyes shining with confidence, “sometimes paradigms shift, Citrus Blossom. Sometimes, things change, an’ quicker than the seasons o’ the stars. That little cousin o’ mine, that little sister o’ yers, Celestia bless her an' keep her safe, may be a blankflank, but she ain’t no child no more. No child can look at Death, no matter if Death comes knockin’ as a child himself, an' emerge the same. That goes fer Apple Bloom, too, an' Ah’ll have ma own things ta discuss wit' her. But fer ya, Citrus Blossom, Ah jus' have ta ask ya ta do this one last thing.”
Fiery mane becoming more frazzled as the weight of her words began to crash down into the floorboards, shattering the Earth, Citrus Blossom said, “And what is that one thing, Applejack? Please, please tell me that my imagination is just running wild."
Stepping away from the door, crossing the threshold to meet her, Applejack said, “Ah wish Ah could, but that would be a lie. No, Citrus, if ya don’t ask Babs Seed what she wants ta do—if ya don’t give her a choice, herself—then Ah might as well have never come here. Sometimes, we have ta take matters into our own hooves, ya understand?”
As she listened to the sound of her sister’s gentle laughter in the kitchen, contemplating the sound of silence that could follow such a gamble, Citrus Blossom looked at the hand Applejack had dealt her, unsure if she should call or fold.
Applejack waited for Citrus to answer. She was a dealer-pony patiently delaying the game for the decision of a lifetime, the decision that could affect the outcome of the entire game itself.
Citrus had never been a gambling mare, but the angel on her shoulder whispered for one more try, one more toss of the dice, one more flip of the cards.
The king, the queen, and the jack had all found their place in the deck, their own spaces in which to shine. It was time now for the wild card, the joker, the bad seed, to have a choice in its own play—in its own fate.
Citrus Blossom nodded, and took Applejack’s forehooves into her own in her sincerity.
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YAY
YAY YAY YAY YAY YAY
1832933
There may be a possible sequel...
And if there is, I hope it is not crappy!
Thank you, my friend. I'll be honest. This fic has revived my passion for writing, and I am definitely considering it.
1833203
I will definitely check it out and let you know what I think.
1833498
New chapter, guys. Here is what I was listening to as I wrote this one:
And now that I've finished reading, I can go to bed happy tonight.
1833574
Woohoo!
1833613
Fantastic job!
But...hint, por favor? 
I LOVE THIS SERIES!!!ts3.mm.bing.net/th?id=H.4700709389206558&pid=15.1
another great chapter i'm guessing maybe 3 more ? here are a frw more great fics, Within and without, lost and found, past sins. i got plenty more where those came from lol
i am going to guess that babs is going to stay, she does have a responsibility to the manehatten CMC
1833649
1833656
Thank you!
1833662
You're right, three more to go!
I've read Within and Without, not a fan of Past Sins (sorry!), but I'll check out Lost and Found.
1833670
It's definitely not going to be an easy decision for her to make.
1833696
Your welcome, and no really
1833696 haha how did i know it was three. if you liked within and without you will love lost and found it is written by the same person and i was reading it as it was being posted.
also the manehatten cmc already showed they dont need her when they stood up to those bullies together while babs was hiding.
I can't even- my feels they- why? I need more!
Madhoof prepares to torch the house...
"Ok, I need to overwhelm the fire systems and ensure no escape. So if one gallon of gasoline covers fifty square feet and my house is one hundred meters by 50 meters and 1 square meter is about 11 square feet and one gallon of gasoline is about 4 bits per gallon and WHY IS LARSON SO HARD?"
I hope
bucks bernie's teeth in.
Oh it's been a long day that's almost over, but with this updated just in time.... I can say this
Best birthday present.... just awesome
I'll stop dazzling you with muh wit and sleep now
I gotta ask, do you use some sort of accent translator for your text? Usually I'm annoyed by accents being written out like this, but you've kept them consistant and generally understandable
1833809
images.wikia.com/mlpfanart/images/5/58/Happy_Birthday.png
Hope you had a great day, Drizzle!
1833719 1833751
More to come tomorrow!
1833760
Arson isn't as simple as it looks!
1833789
She really should have in this chapter.
1833927
Uh...nope. I just follow the rules I've established for myself once I started using the Manehatten speech (AJ's and AB's isn't as consistent, and I'll edit their speech a little in the future when I have more time to be consistent).
1834119
There's three more chapters left.
Celestia...I love Applejack in this fic. She is at her absolute best here in just her few mpments of screen time...you did terriffcally my friend
1834174
Thank you! I really did enjoy writing her in these past few chapters.
Every time I see the word hay I think of the dried dried grass
Don't answer this if it's too personal, but I was wondering, is Bernie is based off of a person in your own life? Because I had an psychologically abusive father and the one thing people always have a hard time understanding is why I wanted him to hit me. I wanted him to hit me with every fiber of my being so I could just leave! I've had a lot of trouble explaining that to people who've had more normal parents, but you seem to understand it incredibly well. Which got me wondering why you understand it so well.
P.S. If there is anyone reading this who wants a guardian to hit them so that the courts can take you away, listen! You're probably in a situation the courts can actually help with, even if you don't know it. Get help! Just because you don'y have yellow mottled skin doesn't mean your guardian is protecting you.
P.P.S. The above situation doesn't apply if you're just frustrated with your guardian. I'm talking about a situation where you go to sleep sobbing because you thought he was so close to hitting you, but he didn't and now you have to suffer through another day with him. That is abuse, end of story.
Side Note: This is something that the custody system does not deal well with. People can be abused even if all their physical needs are provided for and no physical harm is done to them. If anything I would say it can be more damaging, as people in verbally abusive households often feel like they're a bad person for feeling abused, because all their needs are met and no one hits them, they feel like it's exaggerating their problems to call it "abuse". This is a serious problem in our society and one that needs to be rectified. There are far more ways to make someone to submit to one's authority than a bruise on the cheek. The girl whose father screams "SLUT" in her ear because she held hands with a boy, the boy whose father tells him he's a no-good pussy who doesn't deserve to be a man because he doesn't like hitting and is afraid of football, they are just as abused as the kid with the grip marks on their arm. Even the isolation Babs Seed goes through with her family does serious long-term damage to the psyche. I wish more people would write stories like this because people need to understand this stuff before we can fix it.
Wow, I kinda went all wall of text there, didn't I?
1833760 "Good news sir! The researches down in tech have made something that they know you would like to try out!"
*Chugs a whole bottle of Applejack Daniels before grabbing the device* "Excellent, let's do this."
gifs.gifbin.com/25yuswsw28295.gif
BERNIE!!!!!!
I want more!
also that moment when you find out you can upvote comments
Okay, it's getting harder for me to resist wanting to punch Bernie in the jaw... and the groin.
Love so much
I cant wait for you to finish it on christmass day
This sounds like the idea I had for my picture i did. Its up on dA along with a short description of what the bullies had done, called "Then Things Got Worse..."
1834270
But..but..hay is for horses!
*ba dum tiss*
1834277
Yes, Bernie Madhoof is based off my psychologically abusive, drug-addicted, and emotionally absent father. Thankfully, I have a great stepfather who took over around the time I became a teenager, so I had at least some positive male role models in my life and love him to death. I understand what you mean about wanting your father to just hit you...he never hit or molested me, so in the eyes of some I wasn't abused or mistreated and can't complain, but in all honesty I am still working through the issues that his actions and absence wrought. Thank you very much for the very deep post, Sengachi, you are absolutely right. Our society needs to start looking at the whole treatment of the child--mind and soul along with body. I wish you good luck on your own personal journeys regarding what you experienced.
1834282
That gif!
1834292 1834596
It's time for Fluttershy to show up in rage mode.
1834440
I know! It's so cool
1835048
It will be completed by Christmas Day, my friend, a gift to all of you wonderful readers.
1835279
Could you link me to the picture? I'm intrigued.
OK, everypony, I'm working on the last chapters, and the story will be complete by the 25th!
I've procrastinated this holiday season far too much, so I won't be posting the next chapter tonight (whoa, that's a first!) more than likely. Got lots of baking and gift-wrapping to do, along with beating that wretched traffic for a few more gifts. I'll still be responding to PMs and comments sporadically until the new chapter is cranked out.
Thanks so much, you all rock harder than Tom!
1833980 great now i won't get any sleeptonight as i await this next chapter
1836694 Yes! I cannot wait sire!
1836694 This one is mine: http://theyelliaes.deviantart.com/#/d5mt4q0
The pic i got my idea from: http://ruhje.deviantart.com/art/And-they-think-I-m-the-bad-one-339689578
1836694 I'd make a horrible pun but it just wouldn't punny
<iframe width="420" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/fYSij6houls" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>
Okay. I want to play Middle Earth Style golf with Madhoof. It's where you take a big old club.........AND SMACK YOUR ENEMIES HEAD CLEAN OFF HIS SHOULDERS AND DOWN A RABBIT HOLE!! If that had been my daughter/sister/whatever I'd been out with a big old double bladed battle axe looking for blood!
1837168
Here you go, I think this is what you meant:
1837356
Indeed. Perhaps a certain Ponyville baker could invite him over to help her bake some of her favorite treats?
1836938
Aww, poor Babs.
Good pics. But, in all honesty, it did look like her mane and tail had been snipped short in the episode, at least that's what I thought. Whether that was by choice or by force, well, that's up to the fans to guess. And I guessed on the latter.
1837527 Yes, thanks. it never works for me
1837536 I completely agree, they did look freshly cut in the show. I have got to say that Babs is my favourite when it comes to the younger ponies, she just has so much that fans can expand on. Your story is the first that I have come across, and it is pretty darn close to my head canon ideas. Thanks for putting my imagination into words!
1838243
You're welcome!
I'm glad you are enjoying the story and that it matched your head-canon pretty well!
I think your getting better at writing descriptively in these chapters :3
Awesome story, great job ^^
New episode makes this story seem more likely lol.
Madhoof stands poised like a king with power
To flood his family with his rage within the hour.
Sounds like there is more to come to be in it
The fan has ever more to deal with in the form of shit.
Babs finally given the reigns of her life.
Too bad it can't help avoid this strife.
That's amazing miss. Good work.
All I can see is Bernie with a bucket standing over a fan with a wicked smile spread across his slimy mug
1838710
Thank you!
1841025
You cannot fathom how happy the new episode made me, my friend. Babs and Bloom gave me diabetes twelve times over.
And naw, I didn't read any shipping into it, of course, but it was still great to see that they've become close. Best filly deserves a good cousin. ^_^
1841479 1841452
Well...say sorry to your neighbor for me for waking him/her up!
But I'm glad you enjoyed it!! 
1841682
Great little poem there, my friend.
Oh, Bernie, Bernie, Bernie, what are we gonna do wit' youze?