Time Keeps on Slipping
Somewhere along the way, time had stopped meaning anything. The sun was nowhere to be seen as Big Macintosh snapped awake. Whether that meant that it wasn't yet dawn or that their princess was...indisposed...he had no idea. He didn't think it was his place to ask or ponder.
There was work to be done. There was always work to be done. Time to seriously think about all that was going on was a luxury that had been lost ever since the Crystal Empire had returned.
"Big Mac." From the deep bags under her eyes, Applejack looked like she'd slept just as soundly as he had. It wasn't a rare thing, the two of them falling asleep standing up at their spots at the conveyer belt.
"AJ," he acknowledged. He didn't have much more to say; found that he had less and less to say as the days passed on. He stretched out, trying to loosen his locked joints, not quite managing to hide a grimace as he heard and felt something in his spine pop. "You eat yet?"
"Ain't had time."
Big Macintosh frowned. "Not an answer." To be born into the Apple clan was to know a lifetime of hard work, but his sister had always taken it to an extreme. To call her the workaholic in their family was an understatement, and when all of this had started, she'd rolled up her metaphorical sleeves and rushed into it head first. There'd been times in the past where she'd ignore the basic needs of her body like food and rest, and that need to get things done had only gotten worse.
Big Mac didn't like it. As the oldest, Granny Smith had always insisted that he mind himself, use his increasing size and strength for producing and protecting instead of harm, and to always, always take care of his little sisters. Applejack not taking care of herself hurt him, too.
Poor Granny Smith...what would she say if she could see the state of their farm now?
"I'll eat when the sun comes up." She waved a chipped, dirty orange hoof off to the side. "Reckon that'll be enough time to check the machines. You should go eat somethin', though."
Big Macintosh frowned, opening his mouth to protest, but his empty stomach chose right then to loudly rumble. He couldn't help scowling at the slight smirk cutting through the grime on his sister's face. She'd never been the sort to resort to 'I Told You So's', but then again, she'd never needed to. "Right. You head on over to the house, now. I got it. 'Sides, you should check up on Apple Bloom and your guest."
Big Macintosh did as he was told. As the barn door closed behind him, he couldn't help but smile. It was rare moments like this that almost made him feel like things were back to normal.
Almost.
Apple Bloom's door was open ever so slightly. Big Macintosh nosed it open, trying not to make a sound, but grimaced as the hinges on the door creaked. One more chore for their ever-expanding list of things that needed to be done. Without Granny Smith's wisdom and guidance, it was that much harder to keep track.
In the shadows, he saw the small bundle beneath Apple Bloom's quilt shift. Wild red hair peeked out from beneath the covers. "Hmm?"
A fond smile gently settled on Big Macintosh's muzzle. "Just me," he assured. As the small lump under the covers continued to move, he added "Ain't quite time to get up yet. Go back to sleep." Everypony on Apple Family Acres had to do their part, of course, but when murmurings of war had begun to reach them, he and Applejack had come to an unspoken agreement. The two of them might have been working their flanks off day and night to can and jar and ship out rations to the rest of Equestria, but they were grown ponies. With the deaths of their parents and grandmother, Apple Bloom had already lost enough of her foalhood; the less they could include her in the war effort, the better. The least they could do was let her sleep until the sun rose.
He suspected she wanted to argue, but his ears picked up any sound of her protests being drowned in a yawn. As her head lay back down on her pillow, Big Macintosh took care to step only on the floorboards that he knew wouldn't creak too much with his weight. It was tricky, with his hooves nearly the size of dinner plates, but growing up in this house had taught him to manage. He was fairly quiet as he made his way to his bedroom.
The pony in his bed hadn't even bothered to get beneath his covers; long pale limbs were sprawled haphazardly over the king-sized bed in a way that didn't look comfortable. The pony was snoring up a storm, but the sound was muffled by Big Macintosh's pillow. His wild blue mane was even more wild, tousled from the windy ride here and now from sleep.
Big Macintosh smiled and lightly shook his head. He glanced to the side, where he saw an old throw that Granny Smith had crocheted just a few years ago, and gripped one of the corners with his teeth. In a move that he thought was rather expert, he managed to drape most of the thing over the sleeping pony. The soft material did as Big Macintosh had wanted; the other pony seemed to curl in on himself underneath.
Feeling fond and more comfortable than he had in a long time, Big Macintosh couldn't help himself; he leaned forward and pressed a kiss just behind the pegasus's ear.
"Bwuh...?" A groggy head lifted from the pillow, a bit of drool gathered at the corner of his mouth, green eyes heavy lidded and confused in the dim light coming from the hallway.
Big Macintosh loved him. "Mornin', Soarin."
Once an esteemed Wonderbolt, Soarin had had to take an early retirement; King Sombra's war required couriers, correspondents, mail ponies, and delivery ponies from all over Equestria. Soarin had once told him that he was busier now than he'd ever been as a Wonderbolt; just last night, Applejack had insisted that he stop for the night, pointing out that even Wonderbolts couldn't perform without a good night of sleep. Big Macintosh had forcefully agreed by physically shoving him into his bed. He'd fallen asleep before his head even hit the pillow.
Soarin rewarded Big Macintosh with a fond smile. "Hey, Big Guy." He said the nickname as though it was the first thing that had made him happy in a long time. While Big Macintosh hoped that wasn't true, he felt flattered, just the same. "Wha' time is it?"
"Early. Too early." Big Macintosh pressed his nose against Soarin's cheek. "Sorry; didn't mean to wake ya. Go back to sleep."
"You gonna join me?" Soarin flashed him a grin that Big Macintosh was sure had charmed many other ponies, mares and stallions alike.
He snorted. "Love to, but I can't." Sombra waited for nopony.
Soarin seemed to understand; he only pouted for a second or two before stretching his legs and wings. Big Macintosh recognized the telltale sounds of joints popping and cracking. They were all tired; they were all sore.
He turned on his tail to head down to the kitchen. He wasn't surprised to hear the sounds of hoofsteps, lighter than his, just behind him.
The Apple siblings all still had fond memories of the kitchen. It had been the heart of their old farmhouse. It was the first room to be lit up by the sun's early rays and the last one to see moonlight; no matter how busy the family was, it was the one place they were always guaranteed to all be together before the day ended.
It was the last place he'd seen his parents and grandmother alive. Applejack had even stopped there for breakfast before she'd left for Manehattan. Nopony in the history of ponykind had ever been able to resist Granny Smith's apple pancakes, after all.
She'd left Big Macintosh the recipe, as well as the farm. he had half a mind to make them right now, but decided against it, instead nosing open the cabinet where he knew they kept the grits. He didn't have half the cooking and baking know-how that his grandmother did, but he'd found ways to make do with what they had; he knew how to make the butter and cheese go a long way and still make things taste all right.
"What're you making?" The sleep that had weighed Soarin's voice down seemed to have completely disappeared. Big Macintosh suspected that life as a Wonderbolt had taught him how to wake up quickly. "Can I help?"
"Coffee," was what Big Macintosh managed to say through teeth he'd clenched around the bag of grits. Thank Sweet Celestia they had the beans; the cattle ranch just up the road didn't just generously give them extra milk when they had it, they also grew the precious luxury crop and gave them extras. Moorabelle kept promising to teach them how to grow it themselves, but that first promise had been months ago.
"You got it!" How his special somepony managed to keep that high energy enthusiasm in his voice, Big Macintosh wasn't sure, but he wasn't going to complain.
As they took turns with the sink, pouring water to boil, Big Macintosh couldn't help feeling a familiar sense of home. Ponies flitting to and fro in the Apple Family Kitchen, tending to what would wind up as a hearty, tasty meal...well, it was the first time, in a long while.
"Oh hey, gotcha a present!" Soarin lifted the flap of the satchel he'd flown over here with; when his head lifted back up, there was a glass jar in his mouth. Big Macintosh's eyes widened as the pale-furred pegasus sprinkled some glittering grains into the pot of water.
"Salt?" Now that was a luxury he hadn't seen in a long while.
"Yep! Primo delivery, straight from the Crystal Empire trenches!" The flashing grin that Soarin gave him didn't bely the pure horror of the sentence he'd just said.
Big Macintosh didn't mention it, though. If Soarin wanted to talk about it, he would. He stuck to uttering "Thank ya, Darlin'" as he waited for the water to boil.
"One of the soldiers on the front lines there knows a lot about rocks. I guess she found some extra halite; I did her a favor, so she gave me a little extra. Thought you might appreciate it."
Big Macintosh nodded. Soarin wasn't allowed to go into too much detail about the deliveries he made on his flights; whatever he could talk about, he made sure to listen carefully.
"It's getting worse, out there, Big Guy. They're putting foals to work in the Cloudsdale Post Office. I mean...foals." As he turned to reach for one of the metal measuring cups, Big Macintosh saw Soarin's blue forelock sway as he shook his head out of the corner of his eye. "And that's just what's going on above Equestria..."
Big Macintosh merely grunted.
"I saw some of the battle when I stopped at the trenches. This one Earth pony tried freeing one of the slaves. Just turned around, took aim and...kicked. She broke that damned slave helmet...but that poor Crystal pony..."
"Sakes alive..." Big Macintosh found that he couldn't say anything more as he laid a bowl of grits before Soarin.
The grim tone Soarin had been using vanished, leaving Big Macintosh to wonder if it had ever been there at all. His face lit up at the sight of the butter and shredded yellow cheese on top of the boiled cornmeal. "Hey! You made it just the way I like it!"
Big Macintosh nodded, managing a weak smile. It was a small thing, but then again, in his experience, if was the small things that mattered. The small things were what built up over time and truly got you close to somepony. Paying attention to how a pony liked their grits and their coffee; offering to let a guest sleep in your bed while you took the floor, only for them to turn right around and insist there was more than enough room. A sneaked glance here, a secret grin there.
A stolen kiss during the sunset because you've always been a pony of actions, not words, hoping for Princess Celestia's sake that you haven't misread any signals, heartbeat raising as he kisses you back as though he'll die if the two of you don't stop.
The coffee pot beeped just as Big Macintosh sat down at the table with his own bowl. He'd taken to just eating at the counter lately, on the rare days where he wasn't busy enough to grab something and eat it on the way to the barn. Of course, those were days where the Apple family didn't have guests. This felt like a special occasion.
"Sweet!" Soarin backed away from the table. Within moments, a mug of coffee--a splash of milk, a sprinkle of sugar--was placed before him. Just as he liked it.
Just a small thing.
He said nothing, just expressed his thanks with a kiss to the icy blue fur of Soarin's cheek. The pale fur allowed him to see the blush beneath.
The two of them tucked in, not even bothering to use utensils. The only sounds in the kitchen were those of ponies eating and swallowing. It was all Big Macintosh could do not to sigh with relief as the sky began to shine pale pink and peach through the kitchen window, illuminating the oddly still scene. Big Macintosh did what he could to dedicate the scene to memory; as a colt, he'd wanted an adventure like the Wonderbolts and Daring Do had, but as he grew older, he was learning slowly but surely to appreciate every slow, gentle moment that came his way.
The early morning stillness was interrupted by the sounds of tiny hooves. "Mornin', Big Mac! Mornin', Soarin!"
Soarin lifted his muzzle from his bowl, not seeming to care about the cornmeal and cheese on his upper lip. "Hey there, Little Miss!" he exclaimed with a grin. "How's it goin'?"
Apple Bloom beamed up at Soarin. If it weren't for the frayed edges of the magenta ribbon she'd used to put her mane up, nopony would have ever guessed that she was affected by all that was going on. "I slept like a baby! Not that I wanted to." Big Macintosh didn't miss how she tossed a light glare his way. "Not when somethin' so excitin' was goin' on!"
Soarin chuckled. "Aw, you didn't miss much. Didn't even have my hooves on the ground before your brother made me go to bed. Even Wonderbolts need their sleep!"
Apple Bloom rolled her eyes as she trotted up to the stove. "Uh-huh. Did Big Mac tell ya to say that?"
"Who, this big lug?" Soarin nudged one of Big Macintosh's forelegs with a blue hoof. "Nah; he'd never do anything that manipulative!"
Big Macintosh just chuckled. "Grits're on the stove, Apple Bloom."
"And there's coffee, if you want it!"
Apple Bloom's tiny soft nose wrinkled in a ridiculously cute way. "Yuck!" She quickly backtracked. "I mean, that's nice, but I think I'll pass." Granny Smith had brought them all up to be polite. Big Macintosh wondered if her spirit were here in this kitchen, looking on them all now.
If he thought she'd just been rude, Soarin didn't say so. He laughed good-naturedly. "I feel ya, Apple Bloom; I didn't start liking coffee until I was like thirteen. Even then, it had to be full of milk and sugar. Used to say that I'd like some coffee with my sugar!"
Nopony said what they were thinking out loud. Milk was in steady supply, but rations of sugar had been growing more and more scarce.
Apple Bloom's smile turned sad. "I'll keep that in mind." She used her nose to nudge her little stepstool close to the stove. "Think I'll take my breakfast to go, Big Macintosh. Lots o' stuff to do!"
Big Macintosh frowned. "Mind takin' some to your sister?" He was pretty sure Applejack had gone without food and sleep even longer than he had. A sturdy earth pony was always harder to physically push into things than even the strongest pegasus; if he couldn't make her sleep in her bed, the least he could do was make sure she had hot, black coffee to get her through the rest of the day.
"Okay!" Just before she left, she turned to Soarin. "When I get back, you'll tell me all about your adventures, right?"
"Will do!" Apple Bloom left just before she could see how tight Soarin's smile had just grown. As soon as the two stallions heard the front door shut, Soarin added "The heavily edited versions, anyway. She doesn't need to know about crystal ponies getting kicked to death."
Big Macintosh shook his head in quiet agreement.
"I think it's cool that you're trying so hard to protect her from all this stuff. Just...how much longer do you think you can do it?"
Big Macintosh shrugged. "Long as we can."
"How are she and Applejack getting along?"
That answer was more complicated. Apple Bloom had only been two years old when Applejack had left for Manehatten. Maybe other ponies would have been angry, but Big Macintosh had just been sad. He understood; losing their parents to that timberwolf attack had been hard on all of them. He understood Applejack wanting to get to know other members of her family.
Just in case something happened to the rest of them.
They wrote each other from time to time, but nothing too terribly regular. Mail ponies hadn't been quite as reliable back then; not like now. So, when Big Macintosh found Granny Smith still and unbreathing in her bed, he hadn't expected a quick response when he wrote his sister the news.
He and Apple Bloom hadn't gotten one. Not a written one. They were awoken one night later to heavy knocking on the Apple Family ancestral house's front door. There had been Applejack, out of breath, out of shape, looking every bit the sharp-accented, fast-talking, polished, cultured Manehattanite, but there. Tearful apologies had tumbled out of her mouth, one right after the other.
Big Macintosh hadn't said anything for a long time. He'd only wrapped her up in a tearful, bone-crushing embrace.
That had been how Apple Bloom found them. Big Macintosh had only let go long enough to let Applejack sweep up her little sister in an embrace of her own. "Sweet Celestia, look at you! Ya've gotten so big!" she'd gushed.
Apple Bloom had smiled and laughed, but Big Macintosh had seen her eyes. She didn't actually know how to feel about this pony. She was supposed to be family, but to Apple Bloom, she might as well have been a stranger.
It made perfect sense. Big Macintosh understood how that could be. But Apple Bloom hadn't spoken to him about it. Maybe she was worried he'd be judgmental and upset. Maybe she just hadn't had the time in all the chaos. Either way, he figured that giving his sisters space to interact without anypony else around would help.
"They're...fine," was what he settled on. Maybe 'fine' wasn't what he wanted, but it was better than 'bad.' He was still holding out hope that they'd move on to 'better.'
Hope was all someponies had right now. He planned on holding onto it until he no longer could.
The hoof on his foreleg was a comforting weight. "Give 'em time, Big Guy. These things have a way of working out, you know?"
Big Macintosh knew that wasn't always strictly true, but the bright sparkle in Soarin's striking green eyes and firm smile let him believe it right then and there. He managed a nod.
"Ya sure you have to leave now?"
Soarin slid his goggles down over his forelock, securing them to his eyes. Big Macintosh didn't miss the rip in his right ear or the new scar across his neck. He didn't ask about them; he suspected he wouldn't like the answers of how Soarin had gotten those. "'Fraid so, Big Mac. Still got deliveries to make, and I'm behind as it is. Sombra waits for nopony, right?"
"Nope." Big Macintosh wrapped an enormous foreleg around Soarin's neck, resting his head against his withers and between his wings. "We're all gonna miss ya."
"I know, Babe. I'm gonna miss you, too." Soarin nuzzled up against the red fur of Big Macintosh's neck. "Trust me; no matter where I am or what I'm doing, I'm gonna be thinking of you."
They stayed that way for a long time, nuzzling and kissing and just holding each other, trying to memorize each and every bit of each other.
They were interrupted by the sound of a pony clearing her throat. Big Macintosh raised his head to see his sisters, each looking amused. "Hate to interrupt y'all, but I think you're forgettin' somethin'." Applejack looked down at Apple Bloom.
"Here! Little somethin' to tide ya over!" The filly handed Soarin a glass jar.
The pegasus's eyes widened. "Are those the famous Apple Family apple preserves?" he asked in awe.
Applejack smiled. "Little somethin' to tide ya over. A pony can't live on potatoes and hard tack alone now, can they?"
Soarin slipped the jar into his satchel with tender care. "Aw man, thanks! You have no idea how long it's been since I had actual, real life fruit!" Soarin pulled Applejack into a hug, which she returned with a warm chuckle.
"Be sure an' tell everypony where ya got 'em. And you be sure an' come back now." Applejack pulled away just enough to look Soarin in the eye, suddenly serious. "Y'hear?"
Soarin nodded, just as serious. "I will." He looked over his shoulder at Big Macintosh, eyes full of meaning. "I promise. On my days as a Wonderbolt, I promise."
"I'll hold ya to that," said Applejack. With that, Soarin spread his wings and, with a single flap, he was airborne.
Big Macintosh only stopped his longing stare at the pale speck in the sky when he felt a soft nudge against his foreleg. Apple Bloom Looked up at him with huge amber eyes. "Don't worry, Big Mac; he has to come back. Wonderbolts never break their promises!"
Big Macintosh was familiar with promises. His father, mother, and grandmother had all promised that they would never leave them. Applejack had once promised that she would always be there for him. Princess Celestia had once promised that she would keep all of her subjects safe, no matter what.
It didn't matter how badly a pony wanted to keep their promise; sometimes they simply couldn't. That wasn't how life worked.
Still, Apple Bloom was young. There was no need to let her know of that harsh truth just yet. Big Macintosh nudged her forelock with his nose. "Yer right."
He certainly hoped so.
Time continued to be meaningless. Somehow, it dragged on, slower than a tortoise, and at the same time, in the blink of an eye, months would be past. It felt like Autumn, Apple Bucking Season, had just started yesterday. Now the first snowfall had happened, light white powder dusting the worn dirt roads around their barn and house.
As it kept marching on, Big Macintosh continued to haul his weight, helping Applejack can and jar applesauce and apple jams and apple preserves, hauling great wagons full to the brim with them into town.
It hurt to hope. Every trip there, he would keep his eyes peeled for ponies with wings, keep his ears sharply perked for any news from the Crystal Empire trenches. He'd stopped wanting to be there on the front lines for years now, but as the news grew more and more bleak, his heart ached, urging him to do something.
He was the biggest and strongest of his family, and yet he'd never felt more weak and helpless.
Back at the farm, he'd dare to hope as he saw colorful silhouettes in the sky, only to have it dashed. All through winter and spring, none of the pegasus ponies who stopped by with letters were the ones he'd want to see the most.
Summer had just barely started when Big Macintosh awoke to the sounds of his bedroom doors slamming open. Before he could even open his eyes, a sharp weight pushed in his mattress. "Big Mac! Big Mac!" Apple Bloom's bright voice was directly in his ear as she jumped on his bed. "The war's over! We won!"
"Wha...?" A fitful sleep fraught with nightmares led Big Macintosh to be unsure of what was going on.
"King Sombra's dead! Everypony can come home now!"
Big Macintosh's eyes snapped open. Any desire to sleep was now long gone.
The pegasus who'd delivered the newspaper to their front step was, yet again, not Soarin. Her light grey coat was dappled with white and her gold eyes pointed in different directions. She gave a brief salute with her right hoof before flying away.
The details in the article were sparse, but they said enough. Magic had been Sombra's most powerful weapon, and magic was what had brought him down.
It was one of those things that was supposed to feel good. This was the sort of news that made creatures big and small cheer and run into the streets to celebrate.
It seemed like only Apple Bloom got that memo; she spent the rest of the day skip-trotting through the orchard.
"Feels too good to be true, don't it?" Applejack murmured to him when they were alone.
"Eeyup." His go-to response for just about anything.
"What do we do now? Just...quit workin'?" Big Macintosh was still amazed by how quickly his sister had fallen back into her old drawl. He could almost hear Granny Smith's voice in his ear. You can take the pony off the farm, but you can't take the farm out of the pony.
If she were here now, she'd know just how to take this news. She'd know what to do. She'd know how to feel.
She'd know what to say to quiet the sudden unease he felt, which he knew Applejack felt now, too.
"Do we just...try to go back to normal?" Applejack started to laugh, a sound that had no humor or joy. "What even is normal, anyway? I...I don't think I remember."
Big Macintosh didn't have anything to say to that. He put a hoof on her shoulder, hoping that would be enough.
As weeks passed by, Ponyville began to fill back up. Earth ponies and unicorns arrived by the trainful; pegasus ponies flew to the town center in droves. Families reunited; wives and husbands tearfully embraced and kissed their spouses. It was all supposed to be happy, but Big Macintosh couldn't forget the far away looks in the eyes of those who'd come back.
Soarin was never among them. He didn't arrive by flight; he didn't arrive with a caravan or a carriage.
He wasn't the pegasus who crashed into one of their trees. That day, he'd been repairing one of the wooden fences when Applejack appeared with another pony leaning heavily against her. "Get the gate open!" she hollered; "She's hurt!"
Big Macintosh didn't have to be told twice. He did as he was told, then held the door of their farmhouse open, letting the two mares clamber through.
This war had taken its toll on everypony. He'd seen it in the exhaustion of his sister and the other ponies in Ponyville; he'd seen it in Soarin's eyes as they looked up and far away, as if scanning the skies for any potential threat. He'd seen it in every new scar, every new injury, every time his dazzling smile grew smaller and smaller.
But this was something entirely new. He saw why the pegasus now on his couch must have had so much trouble flying; two metallic prosthetics were in place of wings. He suspected one of them must have been new; it looked shinier and more intact than the other. In the crash, she must have broken her left foreleg; it trailed against the floor at an odd, painful-looking angle. She lifted her head, and Big Macintosh nearly had to take a step back. Her magenta eyes spoke of horrors he could never begin to imagine.
"You..." Her voice was rough, making him think of sandpaper in his ears. "You Big Macintosh?"
He could only nod.
With a pained grunt, the pegasus rose slightly from the couch, turning her head to her side. When she re-emerged, there was a letter clenched between her teeth. "Here..." She all but shoved it at Big Macintosh. "He said it was important you get this." She gave a raspy chuckle before she collapsed back against the arm of the couch. "Figured...it was the least...I could do..."
Applejack, who'd left to grab medical supplies, shoved him aside to get to their new guest. "All right, all right...let's see here...gonna have to set this bone."
Her voice went in through one of Big Macintosh's ears and out the other.
"Big Mac? A hoof, here?"
He couldn't stop staring at the dirty envelope now resting between his front hooves.
"Big Mac!"
The words 'To Big Macintosh' were on the front, written in Soarin's hoof-writing.
Despite how the tears in his eyes blurred the words, Big Macintosh made himself read Soarin's note. Then he made himself read it again, and then again, as many times as it took to memorize them.
They were Soarin's last words to him. He was so apologetic in the letter, constantly saying how sorry he was that he wouldn't be coming back, how he wouldn't see the end of the war, how he would miss Apple Bloom's growing up...how he wouldn't be able to offer Big Macintosh that large, shiny ring he so desperately wanted him to have...
That he'd given this to a pony he could rely on to come here. In the case that he...wouldn't come back...
Big Macintosh cried himself to sleep that night, something he hadn't done since his parents' funeral. He hadn't even done that after Granny Smith's passing.
It turned out that it didn't matter how many losses Big Macintosh had been through. They never hurt any less, and they never stopped hurting.
He awoke when the sun was already high in the sky. He suspected his sisters knew he was going to have a difficult day and agreed to give him the day off. He appreciated it.
Applejack and the stranger from yesterday were already at the kitchen table when he showed up. Incredible sympathy was in his sister's eyes as she turned to look at him. "How ya holdin' up, Big Mac?"
All he could manage was a shrug. His eyes filled with tears yet again as he saw apple pancakes stacked on top of each other on a plate next to the stove.
He'd always meant to make a batch for Soarin, and now he'd never get the chance.
"I'm really sorry." The rough voice of their guest was filled with grief of her own. "There's probably easier ways to find out than this."
"Are you sure he's gone, Rainbow Dash?" Applejack's voice was insistent. "He was alive 'n well last time ya saw him, wasn't 'e?"
"That was when he gave me that note, yeah. He was one of the ponies that tested out Sunburst's prototype magic bomb. It made those mind control helmets stop working if they were far enough away. But the ones who were super close to it..." Big Macintosh heard the stranger sigh. "I'm sorry, but there's just no way. Would it...make it any better, knowing he was one of the ponies that basically sacrificed himself to end this thing?"
Big Macintosh managed a slow shake of his head as he took his place at the kitchen table. Despite the growling of his stomach, he couldn't bring himself to eat.
The stranger--Rainbow Dash, apparently--squeezed her eyes shut and sighed. To her credit, it looked like it it was causing her pain to be talking about this. "Yeah. Didn't think so. He was a good pony, Soarin. Humble, even though he was a fucking Wonderbolt."
Applejack gave her a look. "Hey, d'ya mind? We got a filly here; try to keep a lid on the curse words, huh?"
"Right. Sorry." The pegasus mare sat up straighter, running a hoof over her tri-colored forelock. From here, Big Macintosh could see what Applejack had managed without his help; her left foreleg was in a sprint. "Gotta be honest with you two, I think 'war' ought to be a curse word, too. You know what they say; it's Tartarus."
Applejack shook her head. "No, I gotta disagree there. War's war; Tartarus is Tartarus. War's worse."
Rainbow Dash raised a red eyebrow. "Yeah? How d'ya figure?"
"Good creatures don't go to Tartarus." Big Macintosh's voice was quiet, the words landing with grave meaning.
Rainbow Dash smiled. There was no happiness or mirth in it. "Can't argue with ya there."
Rainbow Dash had been staying at their farm for the last week. Upon asking where she planned to go after her leg healed, she'd shrugged with her wings. "Not Cloudsdale, that's for sure. My folks were some of the first to die, and I don't have any other family. Not really anything up there for me anymore." Applejack had sympathized, talking about their parents and grandmother.
It hadn't escaped Big Macintosh's notice that the two of them had been spending a lot of time together recently. He was happy for his sister, really, but there were times it hurt too much to look at the two of them together. It didn't help that Rainbow Dash reminded him of another pale blue-furred pegasus that had once crash-landed on his farm and wound up injured...
It turned out to be helpful, though, having an extra set of hooves around the farm; with her flight ability, she wound up helping a lot as Bucking Season came upon them, able to reach apples in the higher branches that stubbornly refused to fall.
She was also helpful as another set of eyes. The sun was just rising when her voice, practiced from giving orders as an army general, rang out loud enough to reach the house. It was enough to raise all three Apple siblings, all of whom ran to the sound of her yelling.
"There's something in the woods!" she exclaimed.
Big Macintosh didn't have to say anything; he merely looked over at Applejack, who looked just as alarmed as he felt. He knew exactly what she was thinking.
"Timber wolves?" The very creatures who'd taken their parents from them. They knew how to handle the beasts, but that fear had never fully left Big Macintosh.
Rainbow Dash shook her head. "Nah; not big enough. But it's coming this way."
Big Macintosh pricked his ears up. Indeed, he heard something crashing and smashing through the woods outside of their orchard. "AJ," he said in a tone that left no room for argument, "Protect Apple Bloom." With that, he began galloping. He wasn't the fastest pony in Equestria; he was built more for endurance than for speed. But he was fast enough.
Rainbow Dash had been right. It wasn't a timber wolf, thankfully. No; this creature was about half its size, but every bit as dangerous and hard to bring down. It had the head, neck, and tail of a large snake, but on either side of its slender chest and hips were long, spindly legs. Four pairs, each ending in very sharp talons.
"A basilisk?" Rainbow Dash had apparently followed him; maybe she needed to stay off of her leg, but both of her wing prosthetics were still free. "They're from the Everfree Forest! What the heck is it doing all the way over here?"
Big Macintosh didn't know, and right then, he didn't care. He charged, keeping his head down to avoid the creature's eyes. It didn't look like it, but it was closely related to the cockatrice, yet another monster from the Everfree Forest. One look into this creature's slim-pupiled eyes could cause instant death. To make matters worse, it had deadly venomous fangs and breath. In short, this was a creature that had absolutely no business being anywhere near what remained of Big Macintosh's family.
Just before collision, he changed directions slightly, checking the creature with his side. His goal was to knock it down; it was always easier to kill a creature when it was already down.
He made contact, but despite the force he was using to gallop, the creature stayed on its feet. It didn't appear to have hurt it at all; the menacing hiss that whispered past its fangs told him he'd just made it angry.
Big Macintosh grit his teeth and, taking aim at the creature's back end, forcefully bucked out with his hind legs. His hooves found the joints in its ankles; its back end drooped, hindquarters squarely hitting the loamy soil of the woods.
"Get fucked!" Big Macintosh heard the sound of a hoof making contact with skin. He turned around just in time to see the basilisk's head violently swing backwards; Rainbow Dash had hit it square on the chin. "Get away from us, you fucking monster!" There was a feral fury in Rainbow Dash's voice that made Big Macintosh's blood run cold. He had a strong suspicion that it wasn't the creature that she was violently angry with.
The second he took to turn and look was just long enough to distract him; something strong struck his legs, tripping him, making him land on his side.
He hadn't accounted for the basilisk's long, powerful tail. He watched helplessly as the creature regained its balance, baring its fangs, pulling its head back on its slender neck "No!" he cried out, reaching out a hoof he knew wouldn't reach Rainbow Dash in time.
What happened next took only seconds. One moment, the basilisk was about to strike at the scarred pegasus with the same speed and accuracy of a rattlesnake. The next, its neck was spurting blood, staining Rainbow Dash's pale coat. Big Macintosh blinked rapidly, looking around in several directions. The basilisk's head was on the ground, forked tongue still whipping about, bleeding into the dirt. The rest of the basilisk's body slumped to the side, limbs and tail twitching, headless neck flailing about. The sight reminded Big Macintosh of a large, scaly chicken that had just had its head lopped off.
Their savior stood above the venomous corpse, the handle of a large knife clenched between his teeth. The pony was absolutely filthy; beneath the grime, dirt, and now blood, various scars popped out. The pony was a pegasus, or rather, had been; a pair of coarse nubs topped withers where feathered wings should have been. The pony's right foreleg was completely missing; whatever had taken it had left a much cleaner cut than whatever had taken his wings. His mane and tail, both cropped close to his body, were matted and now stained red. The entire right side of face was scarred, as if he'd been pressed against a red hot griddle.
Big Macintosh held his breath, daring not to hope.
And then the pony turned to him and opened his bright green eyes. A tired, fond smile crawled up either side of his muzzle, like this was the first time in a long time he had a reason to smile. "Heya, Big Guy. Long time no see, huh?"
The moment came to an end as Rainbow Dash cried "Soarin! You son of a bitch!" Making a sound somewhere between hysterical laughing and sobbing, Rainbow Dash tackled Soarin, wrapping her good foreleg tight around him. Soarin laughed, resting his head against her withers, just above her metal wings. She pulled away, magenta eyes glittering in the early morning sun. "How? How did you...?"
"I'll tell ya, Rainbow. I promise. Just..." He managed to pull away, hopping on the one foreleg he still had, to turn his teary gaze to Big Macintosh's eyes. "Just...gotta..."
Big Macintosh scrambled to his hooves. Granny Smith's old warnings about minding his size and strength left him right then; if Soarin was pained by the bone-crushing hug he yanked him into, he said nothing.
"I'm here," he whispered as Big Macintosh sobbed into his neck. "I made a promise, remember? I had to..." Absently, Big Macintosh realized that Soarin was nuzzling his mane, teeth lightly grazing over his crest, breathing soft warm air against his fur. "Just...had to. Had to get back to you." Soarin's usually breezy, steady voice cracked and wavered. The remaining front hoof he had found the small of Big Macintosh's back. "Said...in that letter..." He coughed. "Said I wanted to marry you, didn't I? What do you say, Big Guy?" Wetness that wasn't sweat or blood pressed against Big Macintosh's neck. "Come on...dragged myself all the way here. I think you owe me that much, huh?" It was supposed to be a joke. Even amputation and a powerful magic blast hadn't been enough to rip Soarin's sense of humor away from him.
"Yes," Big Macintosh whispered against Soarin's neck. "Celestia damn it all, yes."
To nopony's surprise, the two pegasi had regular nightmares. Thankfully, neither of them had to sleep alone.
Big Macintosh woke just before the sun rose. A pale-furred foreleg was draped over his chest, the sounds of soft whimpering huffing against his neck in soft bursts.
"Shhh." Big Macintosh ran a free hoof over the close-cropped blue mane of his fiancee. "You're okay; you're all right." The words didn't matter much; it was the sound of his voice that he hoped would soothe.
Whatever was haunting Soarin in his sleep seemed to stop, at least for the time being. The whimpering petered out, giving way to gentle snoring. Soarin gave a sleepy moan, shifting his hoof up, just enough to clink against the simple silver ring that hung from Big Macintosh's neck by a chain.
Things weren't perfect, not by a long shot. But time had meaning again; every day, every minute, every second, was more time he got to spend with his family. They were alive and together, and come Tartarus or high water, Big Macintosh was going to do whatever he could to keep it that way.