> In Darkness
>  by applejackofalltrades
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Zero
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

There was no time to react, nor to plan or even think. 

Spitfire ducked behind a wall as the loud bangs of explosives set off around her. The smell of smoke and blood entered her lungs, a putrid scent that mixed together horribly. She glanced around, making sure her small, special team was still with her.

The ground shook, making her laboured breathing even harder to control as the disorienting booms and bangs kept her from forming any rational thought. Somehow, the Crystal Soldiers had cornered them, and even for a group of elite flyers, there was no escape. Anti-air unicorns had been enlisted—or rather, mind-controlled—into the opposing side, and the warzone was a mess full of small explosions, lasers and screams. 

Spitfire cursed under her breath and motioned for her squad to stay down. Two helmeted pegasi nodded in return. The metallic wing on one of their sides reflected a particular green light. If their cover was to be blown, then it was as good as over. Quickly, Spitfire threw herself on top of Rainbow Dash, concealing the glint from her prosthetic wing. She didn’t even have the courage to tell her to keep still. Rainbow Dash knew, though. She didn’t even let out a peep as Spitfire pressed her into the loose rocky ground.

But as a sharp whistling noise filled the air, almost louder than the magical booms that shook the very ground, Spitfire knew it was too late. In a panic, she watched as a little glowing cylindrical object landed next to them, and the only thing she could think to do in that split second was to shut her eyes and make sure to cover as much of Rainbow Dash as she could. 

The world flashed white and exploded in a fury of sound. Disoriented, Spitfire covered her head with her hooves as Rainbow Dash crawled out from beneath her. Everything slowly faded back into view as Spitfire glanced around. Her head spun as she caught sight of nothing more than a mess of colours and her ears rang loudly from the blast. Her heart pounded faster, and she could barely make out the voice yelling her name. Was that even her name? It sure sounded like it.

By the time she could even backtrack her thoughts to relay what had just happened, Spitfire felt a sharp shooting pain through her shoulder and then a grazing one on the side of her body. It was at that moment that she was certain she was still alive. Though how, she wasn’t exactly sure. 

Warm blood oozed out of her wounds as she blindly stumbled, pushed along by Rainbow Dash and flanked by Soarin. The ringing had faded, but everything still sounded muffled. Spitfire shut her eyes, feeling the awfully familiar sense of destructive magic pulsing behind them, and limped with Rainbow Dash who guided her to more solid ground. 

Another dull, sharp bang. At her side, Soarin screamed and fell behind. Spitfire faltered at the sudden loss of one of her crutches but Rainbow Dash hissed in her ear, “Just keep moving.”

Another bang filled the air, and Rainbow Dash held Spitfire back. “Sniper!”

The unmistakable crackling of those fine magic beams assaulted Spitfire’s ears as the ground in front of her felt hot to the touch. A metallic ting and the bright light of sparks were all Spitfire could even make out before Rainbow Dash pushed her away in a faint blur of colours. Her helmet must have fallen off. “Run straight ahead! There’s a trench with more of—”

Something warm sprayed Spitfire’s body. She didn’t have to see the red to know what it was. 

Her front leg ached as she trotted on it, not caring about the wound on her shoulder. Quickly enough, the pulsing, magical pain in her head hindered her unable to move. Whatever had seeped into her brain came with a vengeance. 

Spitfire flapped her wings uselessly, trying to at least propel herself forward despite the begging plea from her infected mind urging her not to. Another beam fired and instantly, a sharp, hard bang to her helmet crumpled her legs beneath her as she fell over with the blow.

Then, darkness.
> One
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------





In Darkness






With a startled yell, Spitfire jerked herself awake. Her wings flared out at her sides as her heart raced from her dream. Pain came from the wing movement, but that brought her a step closer to reality. The images disappeared into the jarring nothingness that had awaited her at every waking moment since that day. The feeling of softness beneath her and the smell of sterility served to put her more at ease at least, as she came to the realization that she was not on the battlefield anymore, if only by scent and touch. 

Her forelegs shook as she sat up and held herself up with her good leg. The bandage around her left shoulder was as uncomfortable as always, but she felt more strength in it every day at least. 

Still, Spitfire frowned. The grizzly images of her dreams burned in her mind and made it the only thing she could imagine when her world wasn’t complete darkness. It was almost as if her ears still rang from the magic flashbang, but it was more the horrible silence of the hospital room that did that to her.

That battle ended, or at least that was what a nurse had told Spitfire a couple of weeks ago – just a few days after she had arrived. It did not end well, and apparently, she was one of the lucky ones. The pain in her shoulder and the magically induced darkness would imply otherwise. She didn’t want to think about what the unlucky ones might have been going through. If it was anything like what happened to her closest troopmates—her friends—though, then maybe she was lucky. Just in a really messed up way. 

The door opened, characterized by the loud click of the doorknob. Spitfire turned her head to the door, her ears perked in its direction. “I’m fine,” she expressed before the nurse even had the chance to ask. “Just a dream.”

Indeed, it was a nurse who came. It always was. “Have the sleeping meds not been working? Maybe we should up the dosage.”

Those meds made her feel sick more often than not, but they offered her peaceful sleep when they worked. She shrugged her good shoulder and sat back in the hospital bed. “If it means I won’t keep dreaming about it, then sure.”

The sound of magical sparkling faintly filled Spitfire’s ears along with the scratching of the quill. It was curious how different magic sounded in this place. Not angry and dangerous, but mellow and almost comforting. Though the sound made her head hurt and the area behind her eyes ached. She surreptitiously raised a hoof and rubbed her eye, even though she knew that wouldn’t help.

Once the magic noise stopped, so too did the pain. Or at least, it lessened. It wouldn’t leave until the unicorn was gone, Spitfire noticed. There was something about unicorn magic that bothered her in a dully painful way. It had to be an after-effect.

“We need to run another blood test,” the nurse told her. It was like clockwork. Every day for a month.

Spitfire was not surprised. “Sure.”

“And, I wanted to let you know that we have to move another pony in here,” she continued, speaking loud enough so that Spitfire could hear her with no issue.

Spitfire sat up in surprise, hissing as her shoulder ached with the sudden harsh movement. “Another pony? Why?”

“We don’t have enough rooms in the hospital to give everypony their own room, and you are one of the only ponies with her own room,” the nurse explained. She seemed almost apologetic.  “I can’t tell you much about her since it’s not my place, but she went through a pretty bad ordeal and she needs the medical attention. Her hometown doctor was not able to help her well enough, so they decided to transfer her here.”

Maybe it’d be nice. Maybe not. Spitfire nodded anyway. It’s not like she could refuse. “Okay, whatever.”

“Thank you, General. Her name is Applejack, she’ll be in after I bring you back from your blood exam.”

Spitfire’s eyebrows furrowed as she noticed the nurse had implied she’d be taken out of the room. Considering it, she realized it made sense. Just an excuse to let the new pony settle in on her own. She felt over the edge of her bed for the wheelchair and climbed herself into it in a perfectly practiced motion. “Sure.”

The blood test itself was quick and nothing new to Spitfire, though the lightheadedness made it hard for her to keep any of the food they had fed her down. She managed, though, only feeling nauseous while they made her walk around to make sure her body got enough exercise.

During her short, hesitant limp around the empty waiting room, Spitfire thought about what the new pony might be like. The nurse mentioned that she had come from another town—her hometown—so that probably meant that she was not a soldier, or at least not on active duty. What could have possibly happened to this new, likely not military mare that couldn’t be helped in a regular hospital?

Then, Spitfire remembered that not every town was lucky enough to have an established hospital like Canterlot or Cloudsdale. Maybe the mare came from a small town, like Appleoosa, or another small earth pony town like it. Spitfire found herself hoping that it was an earth pony in that case. There would be no lingering unicorn magic to trigger the pain in her head. It might have been selfish, but she wasn’t sure she could deal with the constant bothersome feeling of magic in the back of her skull. 

It only took Spitfire to lose track of where she was and trot into a wall for the nurse to finally decide that Spitfire was done with her walk. After bringing her back to the wheelchair that Spitfire definitely thought she didn’t need, they brought her back to the room. In the room that she had called home for too long, Spitfire heard the sounds of new machinery, including the soft hissing of that same machine she had once when she couldn’t breathe well enough on her own. Curiously, Spitfire climbed up to her own bed and let herself fall limply into its false comfort. It was when the door closed and the pain her head went with the nurse that Spitfire noticed that her new roommate was either an earth pony or a pegasus as she had been hoping.

Her wings shifted beneath her as she listened to the machines and breathing from the new pony. Her head turned to the side, toward… Applejack, if she remembered right. Sure sounded like an earth pony name. “Hey,” she whispered into the discordant sounds of the machinery.

She didn’t get a response, so she tried again but louder. Loud enough to really be heard over everything else in the room. “Hey.”

Bedsheets rustled a bit next to her. For a moment, Spitfire thought that the mare might have been turning away from her. Though that was not the case as after only a moment, a low, gruff voice responded, “Heya.” This Applejack sounded like she hadn’t spoken in a while, which might have been true as the words came out with a struggle. “You the General they cooped me up here with?”

She already sounds like they put her in prison, Spitfire noted with a half-smirk. She noticed that the mare had an accent, which only lead her to wonder where she might have been from. Maybe somewhere like Appleoosa, but definitely not Manehattan. This pony had a country drawl to her voice.  “Yeah. Your name’s Applejack, right?” she asked at the same level as before to make sure she’d be heard.

“Eeyup.”

Spitfire didn’t respond after that. What could she say to that? Maybe Applejack didn’t want to talk. Spitfire couldn’t exactly blame her, and it wasn’t like she had said anything either. Applejack went quiet, too, leaving the room to the silence again. The pegasus noticed how much she wanted to leave, then, but she wouldn’t deny that at least having another pony there was a bit of a welcome comfort. Being stuck in the hospital sucked, but at least now she had company.

“Spitfire, that’s your name, ain’t it?”

Or maybe she was wrong. Maybe Applejack did want to talk. Perhaps she was lonely, too. Though, Spitfire could only wonder if she’d be enough to satiate that possible want for company. “Yeah, that’s me,” she responded with a nod.

Applejack had a deep, smooth voice, though it was gravelly at times—like she had a sore throat. In some ways, it was pleasant to listen to. Spitfire hadn’t heard somepony with an accent like that before, at least not personally. “Well, nice to meet ya, General. And, uh, thanks, I guess. For, y’know, fightin’ in the war like you did.”

“Just call me Spitfire,” she responded quickly, not quite in the mood for military formalities. Spitfire wanted to say it was her pleasure to serve, but that wasn’t exactly right. It was her duty, her calling. Like she was meant to lead the Wonderbolts division into battle. But that didn’t seem right, either. If it was her duty, her destiny, then was it also her destiny to fail? The pegasus kept herself neutral. “And, sure.”

At least Applejack hadn’t asked what happened to her. Or anything else, for that matter. They simply exchanged some kind of polite greeting. Judging by her accent, she must have been from the countryside or some kind of hick town. Wasn’t that one of the things they were known for? Being polite to ponies they just met? Southern hospitality, or whatever that junk was?

For that, at least, Spitfire was thankful. It meant she wasn’t stuck with a nosey pony who would ask about her personal life. Though, she wasn’t quite sure if she really wanted someone else there. The loneliness that was forced upon her sucked, sure, but did she really want somepony else to fill in the gap? Did she deserve that? 

Spitfire absentmindedly rubbed a hoof over her injured shoulder, wincing slightly at its tenderness. At least that would heal soon enough. That would be better, and so would the stitches on her side. Judging by her track record, it wouldn’t be a problem. The physical injuries would heal, and sooner rather than later, Spitfire would be trotting without much of a limp with only scars to show for it. She wouldn’t mind the scar, though. Scars tell stories your mouth can’t, or at least that was what she had told Rainbow Dash after… 

Spitfire shook her head from the unwelcome intrusion. She didn’t want to think about her. And she didn’t want to think about anypony else, either. But she had to admit… It could be nice, maybe. Applejack’s newfound appearance was unexpected, but from their very brief exchange, it was almost refreshing. 

Physical injuries would heal, but she wasn’t sure if the ones deep down would. Though, maybe she could work with that never-closing wound. Spitfire couldn’t even see the mare, but she knew that Applejack was there, despite her lack of words. It seemed that she had fallen asleep, judging by the slowed breathing coming from the mare. There wasn’t much to do in the hospital other than sleep, so Spitfire couldn’t really blame her. Plus, being moved around was exhausting, especially if you had a big injury. 

With Applejack in the room, there was a second set of rhythmic beeping in the room. It didn’t bother Spitfire as much as she thought it would. The pair of beeps were offset slightly from each other, but still, it made for good background noise to lull Spitfire back to sleep as well. It worked almost as well as those sleeping meds. Almost.
> Two
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Spitfire had not been allowed to return to duty. Not after the blindness from the magical flashbang. Even after nightmare-filled dreams, she found herself wishing for sleep to come once more. All she could do was sit miserably in the hospital, blood test after blood test after experimental medication and magic. Everything was as dull and monotonous and repetitive as it had ever been since she, unfortunately, woke up in the institution. Everything was the same, never anything new.

Well, everything but Applejack. 

She knew that the earth pony didn’t say much and preferred to keep to herself, but it was nice to try to get her to talk, especially if she was having a good day. Spitfire figured that it might have been one of those; Applejack was awake more often than not and mumbled things to herself. Spitfire wondered what she always kept mumbling about. Maybe she’d ask someday. Though, it was hard to keep track of how much time passed. Someday could mean anything, but she’d do it. 

In the meantime, she had nothing to lose by trying to start a simple conversation. And from what she could tell, they had at least one thing in common. “Hey, Applejack?”

Once again, Applejack didn’t respond. Spitfire kicked herself for forgetting that Applejack couldn’t hear her very well for whatever reason, so she tried again, raising her voice enough to ensure she’d be heard. “‘Jack?”

“Hmm,” came the noncommittal grunt that Applejack usually responded with. It made Spitfire smile a bit every time. 

And she certainly couldn’t keep that smile from leaking into her voice. She just hoped it made Applejack smile a bit, too. “You ever feel like they’re sucking you dry?”

There was no response for a second until Applejack snorted so hard that she audibly winced afterwards. “What?” 

Spitfire shook her head and let out a curt laugh. “I meant with all the blood they draw. I’m surprised I still have any left. It has to be some kind of record!”

“I mean… I dunno, I guess?” Applejack huffed. “It is kinda a lot now that you mention it. But they gotta do it to make sure I don’t get some kinda… blood infection, I reckon.”

Even though it wasn’t exactly the same for her, Spitfire nodded in understanding. “I get that, in a way. Though for me, it’s to make sure… well, it’s something to do with magical infection,” she added with a shrug. “I don’t know how Sombra’s whole deal works, but I can’t wait ‘til I can get out of this place.”

“I hope you do get out, then.”

The way she spoke was always so matter-of-fact, Spitfire mused. It left nothing to be desired, and it never seemed like she’d say anything else. It might have been selfish to try to continue the conversation, but Spitfire felt chatty. “I… You know, despite everything, I kind of… miss the war, or at least, fighting in it. At least then I had a purpose, you know?”

“Sure.”

“But I’m stuck here, and I don’t even know if I’ll ever get the chance to go back. I mean, I’ve set all kinds of records in my time with the Wonderbolts—do you know about the Wonderbolts?”

“Kinda.”

Spitfire bit back the urge to launch into a full-fledged explanation, instead opting for something brief. “One of the air force regiments, kind of like the Royal Guard troops. We’re elite fliers, or at least, that’s what we are now. We used to be trick fliers, though the original Wonderbolts were a military group. We still teach all that at the Academy, so it wasn’t… difficult to transition into war.

“Wonderbolts get the job done is what I’m saying. Anyway, I was a general, but I always fought alongside my fellow ‘Bolts. It gave me… I don’t know how else to explain it. It gave me purpose. But the more time I spend here, the more I feel like I couldn’t ever go back. Nothing would be the same. I wouldn’t be the same. I mean, I don’t even know if I’ll be able to see again.”

Applejack’s response came after an awkward silence. “So that’s why you wanna get away from here?”

Spitfire nodded. She hoped Applejack saw. 

“That’s funny,” Applejack quipped, indicating she had seen Spitfire’s nod. 

Spitfire cocked her head. Funny? She couldn’t understand why that’d be funny. “Funny?”

“Well, it’s funny how different we are considerin’ I almost kinda want ‘em to keep me here.”

It had been more or less two weeks since Applejack had arrived from what Spitfire could tell, and she rarely said anything apart from a greeting and a complaint, even as a response to anything Spitfire would say. The pegasus couldn’t blame her; there wasn’t much to talk about anyway. But wanting to stay? That was… new, even for the mare who rarely said anything more than a couple of words at a time. Spitfire frowned and glanced in Applejack’s direction so that the other mare would know she heard. “What? Why would you want that?”

Applejack chuckled lowly. “Right, you can’t see,” she said in a way that made Spitfire look away. “I don’t mean nothin’ by it. I just mean… well, you can’t see me.”

“So?”

“If you could, you’d understand why I wanna stay,” was all Applejack said.

Spitfire frowned. She hadn’t really thought about why Applejack was there next to her—out of respect for the mare. It wasn’t her place to ask, and it wasn’t like it was any of her business. Applejack was in the same room, but that’s where it ended. Spitfire wasn’t entitled to know anything about Applejack’s personal life, and that was fine. 

All she really knew was that Applejack had bandages that needed changing and that it hurt her to move. Spitfire could tell that she tried to be strong, but she knew those hidden winces and bit back cries better than the back of her hoof. “Oh.”

“Eeyup,” Applejack drawled out for far too long. 

It wasn’t uncommon for Applejack to cut off conversations like that, and so Spitfire rolled over on her good shoulder. “Well, I’m sorry to hear it. But I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think.”

Applejack huffed in a way that reminded Applejack of a dog. She thought maybe she had made the earth pony angry. “I dunno yet. Pardon all my talkin’, but from what I can see when they change my bandages, though…” She sighed. “It ain’t really good, Gen—err, Spitfire. I dunno what I’ll look like, but for now I look half mummified.” The earth pony snorted in mock amusement. “All that’s left is to put me in a grave, right?”

“Hey,” Spitfire interjected, craning her neck to look where Applejack would be behind her. She’d heard a lot of that kind of talk from the barracks, and it never ended well, even as a joke. She definitely hadn’t expected that kind of comment from Applejack, joke or not. “Don’t say that. It’s good you aren’t in a grave, trust me.”

“I know, I know,” Applejack responded gruffly. She sighed in resignation. “I know that’s true, and it ain’t like… like I want it, but, I dunno…” Applejack trailed off and chuckled weakly. “Just a bad joke, I reckon.”

“I don’t know how anyone could make a good joke these days,” Spitfire pointed out weakly. She smiled a bit, but she wasn’t sure if she meant it. “I think… heh, I think everyone’s sense of humour is a bit warped, you know, Applejack?”

“Yeah.”

Spitfire waited for something else, but not unlike Applejack, the earth pony kept it at that. The pegasus shifted in her bed and carefully set her weight on her good leg. “Hey, you’re not much of a talker, are you?”

“Guess not.”

“Well… that’s fine.” Spitfire frowned a bit. She had to admit, she would have liked to have more conversations with Applejack, but not everyone was a talker. Especially given the circumstances. Even Rainbow Dash lost her usually youthful talkative quality only a few months into the war. 

“My, uh, brother’s a real loudmouth, though.”

The pegasus cocked her head as Applejack’s addition snapped her out of her thoughts. She didn’t know much about Applejack, and she certainly didn’t know anything about her family. “Your brother?”

“Yeah. His name’s Big Mac, though I like to tease him and call him Big Mouth,” she replied with the hint of a laugh in her still raspy voice. “Drives him nutty.”

“Oh yeah?” Spitfire sat up straighter, hoping that for once Applejack would do some talking. “What’s he like?”

Applejack was silent for a moment, probably thinking. She seemed like the type of mare to think before she spoke. “He’s… what’s kept us going all this time,” Applejack started breathily. “Strong, level-headed and takes charge, ya know? He’s kinda a goof, but he’s serious when he needs to be.” The earth pony sighed quietly, though Spitfire still heard it. “Seems like it’s a necessity more often than not these days, though.”

Big Mac sounded nice if what Applejack was saying was true, at least. Spitfire thought the mare didn’t seem like a liar, but she couldn’t really confirm it one way or another. Regardless, she thought that it would be easier to just take it at face value. Big Mac reminded her of Soarin the way Applejack described him. She wouldn’t know for sure, probably not ever, but she was glad that Applejack had someone like Soarin.

Soarin was a really good friend right to the end.

Spitfire swallowed dryly and tried on the best replica of a smile she could muster up. It felt like a farce, but she stuck with it. If Applejack noticed, she did nothing to indicate it. “Your brother sounds really great, Applejack.”

“He is. I just wish I could… be more useful right now.” Applejack sounded like a frown felt, which, in the short time that Spitfire had known her, was kind of unusual. She wasn’t a ball of joy by any means, but she sounded more sullen than she typically did in the couple of short conversations Spitfire had been able to share with the mare. “But I reckon that he’ll just have to manage on his own for a bit. Just for a bit.”

The room went silent again with the sombre admission. Spitfire gritted her teeth trying to think of something to say, but if she was being honest, she didn’t know what to say. The only thing she could think of was to ask more about her brother, but she knew that might upset Applejack. She knew she had to say something though. “How… uh, did you end up here?”

Spitfire, for all the praise she got for her high-level flying and skilled manoeuvring abilities, found herself at a loss as she crashed the conversation to an uncomfortable halt. Applejack was quiet and stayed quiet for a long moment. It was all Spitfire could do to not groan at herself, and what was worse was that she had no indication for what Applejack might have been thinking. She couldn’t see her face after all.

After a long pause full of awkward silence, the door opened at the end of the room. Spitfire turned her head to it, and the feeling of tenderness bashed her skull once more. The nurse had come, right on schedule, once more. Applejack let out a sharp breath, and Spitfire could only assume it was in relief. 

“I’m glad you’re both awake.” Like always, the nurse’s voice filled in the empty space where a voice might have been. It was usually something of an annoyance, but Spitfire felt glad for it for once. “We’re going to check up on your injury again, Applejack. Your last blood test results were promising, but it doesn’t hurt to be sure. As for you, General, we need to make sure that—”

“I know,” Spitfire interjected, wanting the whole thing to be over. She rubbed her temple with her good hoof and nodded briskly. “I know, the m-magic and the spread. It’s fine, can we just do it then?”

“Of course. I’ll get another doctor to check you over, a non-unicorn.” Wheels squeaked against the tile floor. They were moving Applejack out of the room again. “Your other injuries are looking good. You’ll be set to move around on your own soon.”

“Thanks,” Spitfire huffed, staring uselessly at the source of the voice. It was uncomfortable, the magic, but she had to admit… it hurt less than it did at first. That was a good sign, even if a small one. Though, that wasn’t really the most important of her thoughts. “Good luck, Applejack.”

The wheels paused for a moment. 

“You too,” Applejack replied quietly. “And, uh, I’ll tell you another time. I promise.”

The door closed as Applejack was wheeled out of the room, and the headache thankfully went with it. So too did the machines that were attached to her roommate. It just so happened that the silence Spitfire was once grateful for felt nothing short of suffocating now.

The room was too empty without Applejack. 
> Three
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sometimes, Spitfire wanted to get up and leave. She could walk on her own now – the only thing holding her down was the soreness around her injuries and her blindness. But even that wouldn’t keep her down. Her wounds were, in fact, healing, and felt like nothing more than a minor flesh wound now.

To prove that to herself, Spitfire occasionally stood from her bed and sat next to Applejack’s, if only because she’d bump into it, often supposedly annoying the other mare. Though despite her snorts and huffs, Applejack never told Spitfire to go away, not even the first time the pegasus climbed up next to Applejack as carefully as she could. 

And that was what she planned to do again. Applejack hadn’t said nearly anything since that day and had actually been entirely speechless for the last few days. As tempting as it was to let her (or herself) brood and fester in the dullness of life, Spitfire wanted something else. She wasn’t quite sure what exactly it was but Applejack was the closest thing to it, and so with her newfound, but still very limited, freedom, Spitfire slowly dropped down from her bed. Her once-injured shoulder buckled a bit under her weight, but she managed to stay upright. It just needed to heal and regain strength. 

She wouldn’t dare try using her wings any time soon.

Spitfire’s hooves clicked on the clean tile beneath them and with only a couple of steps, she closed the distance between her own bed and Applejack’s. It amazed her the first time she found out how close together they were. Applejack’s voice was so low and quiet that she always sounded further than she was. But the entire time, if they had reached out for each other, they probably could have met their hooves together.

She wouldn’t bump into Applejack’s bed anymore, not in the two weeks' worth of practice since that time she asked that awkward question. Even if Applejack would keep not talking to her, Spitfire knew that they both appreciated the close company. Even if the doctors kept berating them about it.

Right at the bed, Spitfire prodded the mattress. “You got room up there?”

Applejack didn’t reply. Whether it was because she was ignoring her or because she didn’t hear her was unclear, but still, Spitfire knew she was okay to proceed.

With a careful reach up to the edge of the mattress, Spitfire confirmed her assumption. There was enough room for her to climb up and not bother Applejack’s bandages. She had done it accidentally once and she never wanted to hear that noise come from Applejack again. It was completely uncharacteristic of the mare that seemed nothing less than strong and resilient, even judging solely by the way she acted while injured. 

Satisfied enough with the amount of room, Spitfire carefully lifted herself onto the bed. Applejack snorted in what Spitfire knew was mock annoyance, which prompted a crooked smile from the pegasus. She noticed, though, how Applejack shifted the tiniest bit to the side to give Spitfire more room. Applejack couldn’t hide the subtle grunt that escaped her as she did.

It was a tight fit. Applejack was a big mare, but Spitfire, being a pegasus built for precision flying, was on the smaller side, so there was just enough room for the both of them. It was almost as if it was meant to be. Almost. 

That was a stupid thought that Spitfire brushed off. 

Instead, she rested her head on the backrest, leaving the pillow solely for Applejack, and rolled onto her back with a heave, making sure once more to stay squarely in her spot. Her shoulder brushed against Applejack’s, and the feeling of bandages made the pegasus pull away in fear of hurting her again. 

Once she was as comfortable as she could get, Spitfire exhaled slowly, letting out the tension that built up inside her. “I was thinking about leaving again,” she broke the silence. “I’m so… so sick of this, ‘Jack. I should be out there doing something! I should be helping defend Equestria, not sitting up in a hospital room blind and… and useless.”

The only response was Applejack’s breathing. She couldn’t tell anything else from that, but she hoped that the earth pony was listening. Then again, would it matter if she wasn’t? Spitfire furrowed her brow and frowned. “I should have come out of the war a hero! Spitfire, leader of the squadron that lead Equestria to victory! If I was going down, I wanted to go down fighting, I wanted to go down with honour. But… but I just came out a failure.” 

“You’re not a failure.”

Spitfire clamped her jaw shut at the sound of Applejack’s voice right next to her. It was louder than she’d ever heard it, and yet she wished she could hear it more clearly. Spitfire turned her head to the right, where Applejack lay next to her. “What?”

“I said, you ain’t a failure, Spitfire. I mean it.”

For once, Spitfire was the one to stay quiet. Applejack reached out and put her hoof on Spitfire’s. It was lucky that the side that Spitfire was able to be with Applejack on was mostly free of bandages. She could feel her actual real hoof. Applejack cleared her throat, snapping Spitfire’s attention back to the sound of her voice. “I ain’t very good with words but… I think you’re being too hard on yourself.”

Spitfire swallowed the lump in her throat. Her hoof felt disconnected from her body, full of static as another pony’s touch pressed down on it in a gentle manner. The static grew and filled her entire being as Applejack pressed what seemed to be her own cheek against Spitfire’s. It had been so long since she’d been nuzzled, she almost forgot how good it felt. Applejack winced a bit with the effort, so Spitfire pushed back, making sure that Applejack wouldn’t aggravate her injury by leaning to her. 

As soon as the nuzzle ended, so too did the static. 

“Y’know, I’d been wanting to do that for a while,” Applejack admitted with a tiny chuckle, marred only by the subtle jab of pain in her voice. “Kinda hurts to move too much, though, but you’re a, uh, you’re a great friend, Spitfire. Guess I wanted to show it the only way I know how.”

The pegasus grinned a little bit. It was hard to believe it, but she appreciated it nonetheless. “You too, Applejack.”

That for sure was true. After what had happened to her that day, Spitfire never thought she’d be able to see another pony as a friend again, both literally and figuratively. But Applejack kept subverting her expectations and sneaking her way into Spitfire’s life. Whether she meant to or not was a different question but it was happening and neither mare really seemed to mind.

Spitfire thought her newfound friend was going to go silent again, but Applejack’s long exhale filled the room again before she kept going. “Y’know those cans of apples y’all get?”

The taste of those apples that Spitfire wished she could forget filled her mouth. Her tongue inadvertently stuck out of her mouth. “Yeah, unfortunately.”

Applejack huffed, but it sounded more like a laugh. “Yeah, well… My family owns the factory that makes ‘em,” she revealed. Her voice cracked a bit as she paused on her thought. “I know you wanna know what happened to me. I was fixin’ one of the machines when it blew up on me. Y’know, hot air an’ water’s still enough to burn ya.”

So that was what happened. She could only imagine how it must have felt, and she immediately found herself pushing away the mere thought. Spitfire could tell by the way Applejack’s voice shook that it was a painful memory. That, at least, she could understand. “Damn.”

“It’s alright,” Applejack responded gruffly. “We have a clinic back in my hometown—Ponyville, maybe ya heard of it—but we don’t have any unicorns there, not since the battle at Baltimare.”

Right. Spitfire remembered that. Fleetfoot’s unit was sent to give out aerial reinforcements at Baltimare. That was when Spitfire found out that Sombra’s soldiers found a way to “acquire” anti-air unicorns. Equestria had given their own enemies the weapons they could use to defeat them.

“Only so much earth pony hooves can do, y’know?” Applejack continued. Her voice trailed away as she sighed. “They figured that it was worth seein’ if I could get any sort of help in a bigger city like Canterlot. Without me, it’s just my brother Big Mac at the factory, and since my li’l sister’s off with the other foals at Celestia knows where… well, they need their engineer back, y’know?”

Spitfire always appreciated the engineers, and she could definitely respect Applejack. Without her family’s farm, there wouldn’t be nearly as many rations as there were… Which was not saying much, but it made all the difference on the battlefield. Kept her belly full when there was nothing else. “Well, thanks for doing all that.”

One of the heart rate monitors beeped faster. Spitfire knew it wasn’t her own.

“I just… I’m a mite bit scared, if I’m being honest,” Applejack went on, speaking even quieter than before. Her voice sounded rumbly when she brought it down that quiet. It almost sounded like it hurt. “Sorry to talk so much but… I gotta say it. I don’t wanna know what I look like under these bandages,” she admitted quietly into the never-silent room. “I don’t wanna leave here. But I gotta. I gotta do my part. I just don’t even know if I can. It’s… well, it hurts to move and apparently, there’s somethin’ wrong with my forelegs. I dunno what it is, and it might be nothin’ but it might be somethin’.

“And as if that wasn’t bad enough, I can’t even hear very well anymore, bandages or not.” She sighed. “If I go back, I don’t even know if it’ll be worth going back.”

In all of the monotony, Spitfire had considered Applejack a friend, despite the not very talkative mare’s somewhat aloof demeanour. It seemed that the earth pony was someone Spitfire could relate to more than she had originally thought. The call of duty, the need to go back out and do her part. 

The inability to do so, and the fear of being useless.

Spitfire turned to her and gave her a smile she hoped that the other mare could see. “Hey, I know I said I wanted to leave but… I know I’ll be here with you for as long as I can until then, at least. Being out there with my team taught me that loyalty is invaluable. And I figure I could make one of them proud by acting on it.”

She wished that it would be enough to at least make Applejack smile or feel a bit better. Spitfire never considered herself to be good with words, not when it came to emotions and feelings, but she could do her best. That’s all she could do.

Applejack let out a breath loud enough that Spitfire could hear. “I don’t wanna say that’s good, but…”

Spitfire could hear the tiny smile in Applejack’s voice. The way her lips must have curled up at the joke, and the way her intonation changed, bringing up the pitch of that smooth voice as if it was a question. Spitfire smiled and let out a short laugh. It made the ache in her side flare up a bit, but it was a good pain. Pain that meant she was there right next to Applejack. “Don’t worry, Applejack. I get it. And hey, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here.” She sat up a little more in the bed. “Do you know when they’re taking off your bandages?”

“Not sure yet. They said maybe in a few weeks, though if all the magic healin’ and stuff goes right, maybe less than that.” Applejack snorted gruffly. “Then there’s more… magic stuff they intend on doin’ to see if they can fix my ‘lameness’. I don’t like all this magic stuff. Ain’t right, ain’t the way I was raised. Never been any magic on my farm, and I intend to keep it that way.”

She had a disdain for magic that Spitfire could understand, though it was definitely for very different reasons. Truth be told, Spitfire didn’t really mind the idea of magic. She thought it was handy; there were some magic-infused items she’d been given to use during the war, and she knew a lot of amazing unicorn technicians. But ever since that day… she just couldn’t stand being near it. “Yeah. I understand.”

“I just… I don’t like it, Spitfire,” Applejack went on. She sounded tired, defeated almost. In the short time that Spitfire had known her, she had never sounded quite like that. “I mean… Have I told you about my family?”

“No, not anything other than some stuff about your brother and your sister just now.”

The sheets next to her rustled, followed by a poorly suppressed grunt. “Well, that much is true. Before all of this happened, I lived on our family farm in Ponyville. Sweet Apple Acres is what it’s called. We have hundreds of acres of apple trees, all ready to get apples all ‘round Ponyville and even some of Equestria!

“Or at least, it was like that before the war.” Applejack’s voice lost all the enthusiasm it had built up almost all at once. “My granny died only a couple of months in. I… I guess that’s a good thing, right? She didn’t have to see how it all turned out. Didn’t have to see how they forced us to mutilate our home, our family… our traditions. To us Apples, tradition’s just as important as family. We lost a lot of that in only a span of a few years. Maybe it was just lucky that Granny only had to see some of it. But the rest of us? Us young’uns? We had to see it all.

“After Apple Bloom—my little sister—was sent away, we thought it’d be a good idea to put Granny’s face on the labels. Keep her alive in some way.” She paused to snort violently. “What a stupid idea that was. She wouldn’t have wanted that; she wouldn’t have wanted to be plastered on cans of shit that couldn’t be further from the very values she taught us. I think we really messed up there, me and Big Mac. Just tarnishin’ her, and our family, even more with every can of dogshit we produce. There ain’t no Apple family love in there, no substance. 

“I felt ashamed every mornin’ that I put on that hairnet and do my part. It doesn’t feel like it sometimes, y’know. Feels like I’m doin’ nothin’ but disappointing everypony. My parents, and Granny. Heck, I feel like I disappoint Big Mac sometimes. He does his best, but I can tell he hates it too. But we gotta do it, and as much of a disappointment I feel I am when I do it, it’d be worse if… Well, it’s worse now that I don’t.”

The room was eerily silent, filled only with the endless sounds of machinery. Spitfire swallowed dryly. “I know it’s probably not the right thing to say, but… What you do is important. I… I’m sorry about all of that, but you should never feel like you’re not doing enough. Without you and your brother, I don’t think any of us would have been fit enough to fight or survive. You guys are really life-savers, ‘Jack, and I’m not just saying that to be nice.”

“I guess.” Applejack sniffed quietly. Was she crying? Spitfire had never heard her cry before, not even in pain, and she knew the earth pony had to deal with a lot of it on bad days. “I dunno, it just feels all wrong, y’know? I know that it’s essential, but I can’t help but wish we didn’t have to do it. Doesn’t seem fair. I reckon I’m just bein’ selfish, though. Could be worse for us.”

Spitfire frowned and readjusted her position carefully. Her wounds were almost fully healed, but her body was still sore from the injuries. She turned to face Applejack, looking at where she knew the mare was. “It’s not like it’s been easy for you, though,” she pointed out, making sure to carefully plan out her words. “I mean, you’re here, right? Even if it was a freak accident… Applejack, you still have the right to complain, and you can do that. It isn’t right, none of this is.” She reached up to gesture around with a hoof, ignoring the ache that came from her body. “We’re in a freaking war. And you know what we have to do against an enemy like the Crystal Empire?”

“What’s that?”

She bit the bullet and briefly nuzzled Applejack just like she had done before. “Stick together. That means hearing each other out and being there for each other, right ‘Jack?”

The earth pony stayed quiet for a moment before sighing in a way that sounded kind of like a laugh. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I just can’t help but worry. I love my family, y’know? I miss Apple Bloom every day and I wish I knew how to send her a letter… and I worry ‘bout how Big Mac is doin’ without me. I’m sure they’ve found someone to help, but I just wish it was me. Though, I guess… I guess I’m glad it was me who got hurt and not Mac. I dunno how I’d fare without him.”

An image of Soarin flashed in Spitfire’s mind. He was her rock, her support system. In a way, it went both ways; they supported each other. The pegasus shuddered. “It’s just as tough on him.”

“Mmm.” Applejack cleared her throat. “I got off-topic. W-what I meant to say was that we were always raised to use our own hooves on the farm. No magic, unless it’s our own. It just… it ain’t the way it works. I don’t like it. Doesn’t make sense to me, and I’ve never needed it. But, y’know, havin’ somepony use it on me to fix me? You’d think it’d make me appreciate it. Makes me hate it more,” she admitted with a laugh. “I guess you really can’t just unlearn somethin’ you’ve known your whole life.”

“Yeah… I don’t like it, either.” She clenched her eyes shut if only to feel the way her eyelids pressed together. In the darkness, it was safe. “It… reminds me of what happened.”

“D’ya wanna talk about it?”

“I don’t know.” Whenever Spitfire thought about what happened, it hurt. Her chest would tighten and her throat would clench up. She swore she could hear the ringing in her ears… see the flash of light before the splotchy colours and then darkness. 

She could smell the smoke, the dirt, the mud, the blood. She could feel it on her hooves, the way it caked up under her uniform and dragged in her mane. The way the inside of her helmet smelled like sweat and salt and blood. It was all she could do at that moment to not gag in reflex. No matter what, the smell of death was never easy to take in. 

“Hey, hey, I’m here.”

And it all faded away. The battlefield disappeared, and so too did the screaming and the orders and the bone-rattling booms. All that was left was the sound of her own blood rushing in her ears and the heightened pace of her breathing. Spitfire relaxed her jaw, clenched so tight she might have chipped a tooth had she been left longer, and looked around wildly. Her memories disappeared, and she was left in darkness. 

“It’s alright, sugarcube.”

But then, Applejack’s voice was the light. She couldn’t see it as much as know it was there, and it felt warm on her body. The way her smooth voice cut through all the gore and anguish. Deep and rich, sweet like honey. No longer rough like it had been when the mare had just arrived, no. Her voice was clear and calming. Like the missing piece in the cacophony of the hospital room that made it all into an orchestra. Maybe the missing piece of Spitfire’s life.

She had not noticed she’d moved to wrap her forelegs around her until she unfurled herself. It was a position that she’d only had to take that time, right before the flashbang. She definitely hadn’t noticed Applejack pressing up more against her. Spitfire jerked herself out of it immediately and fell back on the bed. It hurt her body and most of all her head, but she stared up into the nothingness above her regardless and sighed. Her heart weighed heavy with the pain she’d stored up inside her. It was time to let it go.

“I… I’ll tell you, ‘Jack.”

Applejack didn’t respond, but she didn’t need to. Spitfire knew she was paying attention, and the sound of the earth pony’s breathing was enough to distract her from the looming battle scene that threatened to crawl back into her mind. Shakily, Spitfire let it out. Applejack listened.  
> Four
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I look like shit, y’know.” 

Spitfire blinked groggily, having been stirred from a dreamless sleep. The upped dosage of sleeping meds made sleep come easy, but at the cost of waking up being difficult and extremely nauseating. As she reoriented herself to the room around her brought to life by an uncharacteristic outburst from Applejack, her stomach turned, but she swallowed the bile that rose in her throat. “Right, bandage removal was today,” she muttered while trying to clear the sleep away from her voice.

“Sorry if I woke ya, I just got back and… well, I’m just upset,” Applejack admitted shakily. “I dunno what to do.”

“Did they tell you about anything they could do?” Spitfire asked, attempting to shake away the drowsiness. It worked, mostly. The doctors had finally made some semblance of progress on her, if only the removal of magic sensitivity and the new light perception, so she hoped maybe they could do something for Applejack, too.

“Other than makin’ sure I don’t get an infection, not really. At least, not right now. They said I can finally move around and stuff on my own as long as I’m careful,” Applejack replied. “Though they mentioned somethin’ about my strength. I dunno, I didn’t really hear any of that.”

The sound of hooves hitting the ground prompted Spitfire to look over. She could just barely make out Applejack’s shadow approaching her bed with a sort of uneven gait asif she was limping. The pegasus inched backwards and made room for Applejack to climb on the edge of the mattress. The feeling of another pony near her was nice as always. It was weird to not be the one going to Applejack, though. 

“Half of me looks red and wrinkly like a sun-burnt tomato. I’m glad ya can’t see me. ”

Spitfire laughed at Applejack’s morbid attempt at humour. “That makes one of us, ‘Jack.”

She had often found herself wishing she could actually see Applejack, even despite what the earth pony had to say about that. But whenever she tried to imagine somepony, all she could see was Rainbow Dash beneath her; the last thing she really ever saw. An image burned into her mind. Maybe it was the magic, or maybe it was something else. A frown tugged at her lips.

Applejack seemed to have noticed it. Sometimes, Spitfire forgot that Applejack could see her, even if Spitfire couldn’t. “What’s wrong?”

Spitfire sighed and rolled over on her stomach, settling her chin between her hooves. “Just thinking about that day. I told you about what happened but… well, the last thing I saw was the pony I failed to protect.”

Applejack pressed up closer to Spitfire. The earth pony’s fuzzy coat brushed up against Spitfire’s. The pegasus involuntarily tensed at the sensation. For a moment, she imagined Soarin and how he did that for her on that day, too. Before he disappeared from her life. But Applejack was different; she did not smell like blood, and even after so long in the sharp-smelling hospital, the earth pony still smelled vaguely of spice and fields. 

“You ain’t there now,” she added. Her voice was not Soarin’s, either.

“I know,” Spitfire groaned, lifting her head and staring at the light above – if only to see something. “I know. But it’s the only thing I can really remember.”

The quietness from Applejack was a welcomed fact at that point. It warmed Spitfire, even more so when Applejack pressed a comforting nuzzle against the side of her face. It felt different without those bandages obstructing the fuzziness beneath. Spitfire took it in for as long as she could. She couldn’t even hold back the crooked smile that fell on her face.

“It’s alright, sugarcube. I can’t imagine how you’re feeling, but I can try to be there for you, and I promise I’ll be right here like gum on a horseshoe.” Applejack punctuated her statement with a gentle nudge to the pegasus that only made her wince. After Spitfire snorted in amusement, Applejack went on, “Ya can’t get rid of me if you wanted to. I’m like a dog attracted to peanut butter. But regardless, someday, you’ll get outta here, Spitfire,” she said in a way that mimicked a promise. 

Spitfire turned to Applejack. She could feel her breathing. “Someday we’ll get out,” she responded. “And when I do, I want you to be the first thing I see, Applejack.”

“So they makin’ progress on your vision?” Applejack sounded surprised, but not in a bad way. She had really opened up a lot in the past couple of weeks, and now Spitfire thought she was easier to read. 

Spitfire gave a half-shrug-half-nod. “Kind of, I have light and shadow perception now. I can’t see you, but,” she squinted in Applejack’s direction, making out her general blurry shape against the sharp hospital lights, “I can tell you’re there.” She smiled to emphasize her point. “As in I can kind of see your silhouette, except it’s really blurry.”

“Well, I hope my silhouette ain’t too bad to look at!”

Really, it was just sort of a pony-shaped blob. But that pony-shaped blob was Applejack, and so it seemed a million times better. Spitfire’s lips curled up in a faint smile. “It’s something to look at, at least. I like seeing you there. Or, well, you know. It’s better than nothing.”

Applejack nodded briskly. “Yeah, I get what you mean. And… well, I never told you ‘cause I thought it mighta been a bit… disrespectful, but I think you’re mighty good looking.”

“What?” Spitfire sputtered and rolled her eyes. “I mean, I know! I get that a lot. Or I did, before everything. Though there were still the occasional pervs in the army—”

The earth pony next to her cut her off with another gentle shove. “Hah, relax, sugarcube. I’m just sayin’ it ‘cause it’s true. I was raised to be an honest mare, you see. At least, as much as I can be. Especially if it’s a compliment.” 

Honesty? Spitfire had to admire that. She’d been around lots of loyal ponies, ponies like Rainbow Dash and Soarin, but she would be the first to admit that it was hard to always be honest, especially when it was easier to lie for the sake of the mission. Admittances of injury were often rare, though it was obvious to Spitfire when they were present. If Applejack was as honest as she claimed, then it only added to her character. Spitfire still didn’t know much about the mare, but she was sure that she was nothing short of amazing. 

“Aw, you ain’t gonna say it back?” 

The pegasus couldn’t hold back her grin. She rolled her eyes and looked away from Applejack’s silhouette. “I would, but I don’t know what you look like. I’m sure you are, though. Even without seeing you.”

“I’m just teasing.” One of Applejack’s hooves reached up toward her head, though Spitfire couldn’t make out what she was doing. The silence felt heavy between them before Applejack responded, “I ain’t really all that much of a catch.”

Spitfire scoffed. “Why do I not believe you? Don’t tell me you’re humble, too. You’ve gotta have some bad qualities!”

“I tend to fly off the handle.”

“I really don’t believe you.”

“I’m just being honest.”

“Well… I bet you’re wrong, ‘Jack,” Spitfire assured. There was no way that the pony next to her was anything less than impressive, both inside and out. 

Applejack hesitated for a beat. “I’ll tell you what I used to look like if you want.”

The sudden lack of joviality in Applejack’s voice made a small pit form in Spitfire’s stomach, but still, she was curious. She simply nodded, letting her eagerness to know anything she could about her roommate taking over. 

Applejack shifted in a way that put distance between her and Spitfire. Her foreleg no longer brushed against the pegasus’s. “I’m what you might call your traditional earth pony. Big, though you knew that already, strong, and warm-toned. My mane’s blonde, kinda like hay, and my body’s orange, though it ain’t as bright as you think.”

As she spoke, Spitfire tried her best to try to envision Applejack in her mind. It was hard to imagine somepony you’ve never seen, but no matter what shape Applejack took in her imagination, Spitfire would argue that it was great. 

“My mom used to tell me that I got eyes like green grassy fields,” Applejack added. “Pools like the plains out back, she used to say. And my dad would say that I’ve got constellations on my face. Though, you see, I only have a few freckles now. Hardly a constellation. I reckon he was just tryna make me feel better ‘bout myself,” she mused with a laugh.

That was when Spitfire snapped away any images that she was thinking up. There could be nothing better than what the Applejack in front of her must look like, and there was no reason for the country mare to have to ‘feel better about herself’. Trying to imagine her seemed like a disservice to the mare that kept her company. She shook her head and stared at Applejack, or at least at where she was. “Applejack, I think you’re…” 

She knew that Applejack was more than something to look at. She was an actual pony, no matter what she might have looked like in front of her. No matter what, Applejack was nothing short of—

“Fantastic,” Spitfire blurted out. She hardened her resolve and nodded firmly to herself. “Yeah, and you know what, ‘Jack? Hearing what you said, I know there’s nothing that can make you less fantastic. No… no burn, or scar, or anything. I don’t want to imagine what you look like. I want to know. Some day, I will.” She leaned in closer to Applejack so that their hooves brushed against each other once more. “I… I’ve been in tough situations. I’ve seen my share of bad shit, and I’ve seen things I would never wish on anypony else to see.

“But all of that? The idea of ever laying eyes on something like that again? It’s irrelevant, Applejack, because now it’s my turn to be honest. I can push through all of that because I’m strong. And it isn’t just the medals on my uniform that make me strong, or my training, or my experience. It’s the ponies that surround me that make me strong, and now you’re that pony. The fact is that you’re the thing I want to see most in the world. I know that now, after all this time with you. It feels almost stupid to admit it. I feel like some kind of school-aged, snot-nosed filly for saying it, but it’s true.

“It’s been weeks—months—since we’ve been here together, and I had thought that I lost everpony that meant something to me. I didn’t think I could connect with anypony again, not in any way that mattered. I thought I was destined to be the Wonderbolt general that lost it all and lived only to die. But then you came along, ‘Jack, and all of a sudden I… I have someone I care about again.”

“You really think that?” came Applejack’s quiet response. The mare never turned her head away from Spitfire.

Spitfire furrowed her brow and gave a single firm nod. “Honest.”

Applejack let out a stilted breath and finally looked away. She was still for a moment, the only indication of her being there apart from her presence was the quiet breathing. “I wanna show you something.”

“Huh?”

“Give me your hoof.” 

Spitfire nearly recoiled from how sternly Applejack’s demand came. “What?”

“I said give me your hoof,” Applejack repeated firmly.

Not even the first drill sergeant that Spitfire had the pleasure of meeting came close to exuding the level of command that dripped from Applejack’s voice. Spitfire hesitantly offered her hoof out only for Applejack to immediately take it and guide it up near the side of her face farthest away from Spitfire. It was an awkward position, but Spitfire did not dare try to adjust. 

Neither mare said a word when Spitfire’s fetlock made gentle contact with what felt like skin. For a moment, Spitfire was confused, and then her hoof was lead down softly, dragging down that wrinkled, soft feeling. Applejack didn’t even try to hold back the wince. That was when the realization hit her.

It was Applejack’s burn.

Spitfire tried to recoil her hoof away in fear of somehow harming Applejack, but the earth pony’s grip on her hoof was tight and strong in a show of strength that Spitfire didn’t expect from her. It only served to bring Spitfire closer to her, crashing her hoof into her body in what must have been a painful meeting. 

“No, I want you to know,” Applejack hissed through gritted teeth. “I want you to know exactly what it is you wanna see.” She forcefully kept dragging Spitfire’s hoof down her body, pulling the pair into a bastardized version of a hug. Spitfire could only acquiesce and let it happen; she didn’t want to hurt Applejack by trying to resist. 

The burnt, tender flesh never stopped. 

“This is what you wanna see?” Applejack finally let Spitfire go as she reached as far back as the middle of her body, as far back as Spitfire could reach. She shoved Spitfire’s hoof back to her, and with it, the mare herself. “Like I said earlier, I-I look like shit. Sometimes I wish that the war would last longer than I’ll live, you know. I’m too gosh darn ugly for anything that ain’t factory work, and now… well now there’s no refuting that. I bet I’ll be entirely useless. Can’t even trot around without a limp, can’t hear anypony who ain’t yellin’ at me. I don’t want ya to patronize me!”

Applejack fully turned away, breathing heavily. Her voice came out choked, and Spitfire wasn’t sure if it was from some kind of pain or from the effort of holding back the emotion she was doing a poor job of hiding. Spitfire’s hoof lingered next to her and the feel of Applejack’s skin seemed to, as well. Spitfire swallowed and tucked her hoof beneath her body. 

“I… I told you it doesn’t matter what you look like,” Spitfire reminded her. It was still true, though she had to admit to herself that feeling Applejack’s injury, the side of her that she never got to feel, was a bit off-putting. But then, why wouldn’t it be? She’d hate to feel anypony’s still-healing wound! 

“That’s only what you’re sayin’, but it’ll be a whole different thing if’n ya actually see me,” Applejack shot back, turning once again to stare right at Spitfire, who stood her ground. “You don’t really get it, General. You’re talkin’ up a big game, but y’know what? Ya can’t even see me. Facts are facts.”

“Applejack…”

“For what it’s worth, I hope you get out, too. For your sake.” 

With that, Applejack removed herself from the bed and made her way back to her own cot, leaving the space next to Spitfire warm and empty. The bed creaked as Applejack seemed to throw herself in it. Wordlessly, she flopped back onto the mattress. Spitfire couldn’t even tell which way she was facing. She assumed it was away from her.

It had to have been something else, Spitfire thought. Applejack was worked up, and understandably so. It was bandage removal day, and she certainly wasn’t happy. It was like when Rainbow Dash got out after her injury, one wing less than she had had before. The anger and frustration boiled over much too easily, and Spitfire was always the one to take the brunt of most of the blowups.

She just wished Applejack hadn’t blown up. 

Spitfire dragged her eyes away from the direction of Applejack and centred herself in her own bed. Applejack’s warmth lingered. So too did her pain. The pegasus rubbed her hooves together before burying her face in the pillow. She shut her eyes together tightly, removing any semblance of ambient light from her vision. 

If it had been anypony else, Spitfire might have gotten upset at them for yelling at her, but not with Applejack. She couldn’t bring herself to be mad at her. She felt genuinely bad for the mare, but she wasn’t sure what to do. Emotions were never her strong suit after all. The earth pony just needed to cool down. 

 “Sorry,” Spitfire mumbled to nobody.

And nobody responded.
> Five
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Applejack was really good at not talking, it seemed.

Spitfire rubbed her head as she turned to where Applejack’s bed was. The mare was out of the room at a check-up, and yet Spitfire found herself yearning to see her. Or, well, “see” her. She couldn’t get the thought of what she had felt out of her mind for the week since she had been forced to feel it, and the only thing that bothered her about it was how Applejack had reacted.

She would definitely not hold it against her, that was for sure. But it still hurt, and she would admit that despite how selfish it seemed. Spitfire had to make it up to her. Somehow. She wasn’t sure how, but she would think of something. Maybe she could get their dinner brought in earlier, or have them bring an extra pudding cup for Applejack. She knew how much the mare liked that pudding. 

With all the effort she was going to put into it, Spitfire wasn’t exactly sure why she was trying so hard. Sure, she liked Applejack and she didn’t want to lose the friendship that was budding between them. It had been a lonely couple of months, ripped from the field she had formed a complicated relationship and ripped from the caring hooves of her teammates. Her friends.

But with Applejack’s arrival came something new. Something exciting, almost. There was no other way to put it, Applejack made Spitfire happy again. Having the mare there, even just her presence, was enough to make the pegasus smile and look forward to something. She had been wanting to leave ever since she arrived at the hospital, but now she wanted to leave with Applejack at her side. No matter what.

There was nothing that could deter Spitfire from wanting that. Nothing that Applejack could say or think would quell Spitfire’s desire to walk away from it all alongside her new friend. She wanted to be happy, and she wanted Applejack to be happy. Most of all, she wanted to be happy with Applejack.

And yet, the feel of Applejack’s burned skin was something that Spitfire couldn’t get out of her head since she was forced to feel it. Applejack hadn’t been acting quite the same since then; she’d been acting more like she was when she had first arrived. Quiet, giving non-responses, unwilling to talk. 

Spitfire was going to change that. She wanted Applejack to know that she had no reason to feel self-conscious, at least not with her. Love was something she couldn’t think about on the battlefield. It wasn’t even something that had ever crossed her mind; the idea of it seemed stupid when faced with the fact that she could die at any moment. 

But there she was, sitting in a lonely hospital room alive. Suddenly, love seemed like something she took for granted. That wasn’t to say that Spitfire loved Applejack. No, that wasn’t true, but Spitfire thought that maybe she could and that was enough for her. She cared about Applejack in a way that was different. She wanted to be near her and wanted to be with her and wanted to hear that smile in her voice and feel their bodies pressed together. 

She didn’t love Applejack. Not yet.

Maybe she never would, or maybe she would wake up the next day and know that she did, in fact, love the mare that had shared her sorrows and her company. Spitfire almost died, and she could have died. She very well should have died given the circumstances, but Spitfire was alive. If that wasn’t reason enough to embrace the silly little things she hadn’t before, then what was?

If her vision ever fully came back, she wanted to look at Applejack. Take in the mare that she could grow to love with her own eyes and absorb every little detail about her potential love that she could. Relish in the beauty she knew was there. Sappy language aside, Spitfire wanted to indulge in everything Applejack had to offer. Burns and all. That didn’t matter. There was more to Applejack than what was at the exterior, and not being able to see the mare only reinforced that fact to Spitfire. She just needed to remind Applejack of that.

Spitfire was, by all accounts, a decorated, celebrated general. She’d learned recently that she’d been recognized as some kind of hero for her leadership in Yoketown and, more recently, for her actions in Fillydelphia—the ones that had initially saved her friends’ lives. Despite her inability to keep them alive, her story was seen as heroic by some. Spitfire wished she hadn’t heard that on the radio. It never seemed very heroic to her.

A hardened military veteran forced out of battle by disability and failure and a factory-running injured country mare would make for a couple unlike any other. Spitfire wasn’t quite sure if that was a good thing, but in her eyes, none of that mattered. She wanted Applejack to be happy. She wanted Applejack to be safe. She wanted to see Applejack smile. And maybe, just maybe, she wanted to be more to the mare that was everything Spitfire needed.  

The only reasonable solution to this was pudding. 

There wasn’t much time and there was only so far Spitfire could go without getting caught, but she hoped that if caught, they would let her go through with her noble plan. She had a pony’s heart to win over after all! Maybe. At least, she wanted Applejack to talk to her again. Injuries had a way of making a pony harden and grow cold, and she was sure that that was what happened to her friend. Even without knowing her from before, Spitfire could tell that Applejack wasn’t always like that. Even if the mare was as quick to anger as she claimed. 

Even so, it was different. Applejack wasn’t very sociable, it seemed, but she had opened up to Spitfire! She’d even go as far as to initiate conversations, to let the mare lay next to her despite the doctor’s chagrin. They had grown close, and now it felt like removing the bandages did more to separate them than to remove a barrier. Maybe Applejack was just trying to cope with it herself. 

Spitfire almost laughed. It was total déja-vu. She’d seen it before. After Rainbow Dash lost her wing. They weren’t able to give her a prosthetic one at first. Not for a whole year after she lost her original one—the technology just wasn’t there yet, at least not in a way that would make for anything more than a burden. As a result, the mare had grown bitter. Spiteful even. Dash lost the very thing that made her the pegasus Spitfire had met that day at basic training. 

Rainbow Dash never smiled the same after that. A scar down her eye, and a lopsided set of wings. Even after she got the metallic limb, she never went back to the wise-cracking prankster that Spitfire had grown so close with. She barely smiled, barely talked, and when she did, she simply spat venom. Even Soarin noticed, and Soarin was anything but emotionally adept.

No time to think about that. Spitfire shook the thought out of her head harshly, not caring for the way her brain seemed to bounce around in its own dome. No more thinking about the past. No more thinking about the past.

All she had to think about was the present and the future. And the pudding. Pointedly, she dropped off her bed and took a few unsteady steps toward the door. It was strange to be walking anywhere by herself that wasn’t simply a few steps to Applejack’s bed, but she figured there’d be time for that later. 

Unfortunately, she couldn’t exactly use the lights to help her navigate. What she could do, though, was inch to where she knew the door was and stick out a hoof to make sure she didn’t bump into anything. Spitfire thought about using an outstretched wing, but she figured it’d be harder to shuffle sideways than forwards. Something about the flashbang had thrown her balance askew, and going forward was the safest bet, even after she had regained most of her ability to balance properly.

Her hoof hit a solid surface. Sliding it around confirmed that it was, in fact, the door as she made contact with a door handle. Grinning, Spitfire pushed down and slowly opened the door and crept out into the hallway. The lights above her served almost like a path to follow, though the problem was that she wouldn’t be able to see anypony unless they got too close. Oh well, it wouldn’t be as bad as flying into no pony’s land. 

Confidently, though still with a long-learned sense of caution, Spitfire walked in the direction she knew the cafeteria was in. It was then that the master strategist noticed the biggest flaw in her plan. 

She didn’t have one.

“Stupid Applejack,” Spitfire hissed under her breath. “Making me forget my training…”

It was a rookie mistake; one that a general like herself would have never made. Or, at least, should have never made. A mistake like that would get her and her squad killed on the battlefield, probably by a sneaky unicorn sniper or a sudden bludgeoning to the head. A plan of attack with no real plan only ended in chaos and loss. It’d happened early on in the war and Spitfire had learned her lesson.

Or, that’s what she thought. 

Maybe in another place under different circumstances, she would have had the foresight to stop and think. Though, under different circumstances, she wouldn’t have had an Applejack to be doing something so foolish for. It was a conundrum, but it wasn’t one that Spitfire could spare the time to curse herself over. Instead, she followed the trail of lights, letting the many many supervised trips around the hospital lead her to where she needed to go. She knew that there wasn’t much staff in her wing of the hospital around noon, so it wasn’t quite on her list of things to worry about. 

That would come in once she reached the section where they served food. How would she convince them to give her another pudding? Would she get in trouble for sneaking out of her room without permission and unsupervised? As Spitfire’s hooves carefully clip-clopped on the cold, hard tile, she was stopped suddenly by another body. A brief moment of panic arose in her as she desperately hoped she hadn’t accidentally walked into somepony who she didn’t want to run into. Somepony specifically being Applejack.

Even without her sight or the useful indication of a familiar silhouette, she knew it wasn’t her earth pony friend thanks to the coat that covered the pony’s forelegs and the different smell coming from them. Also, the fact that she didn’t immediately get yelled at in that southern drawl.

The pegasus took a step back and smiled sheepishly, looking at where she knew the pony was. “Sorry about that,” she apologized, hoping that she would be able to keep advancing on her mission. 

Life, however, seemed to enjoy ruining Spitfire’s plans. The pony did not move out of the way as the pegasus had hoped but instead stayed steadfast, hooves planted on the ground. “General? What are you doing outside of your room?”

Of course, the pony she had bumped into just had to be one of the doctors who frequented their room. His smooth voice flowed like butter from his mouth, and yet it felt more like molasses that Spitfire was meant to drown in as she bit back a frown. He was a burn specialist and she knew him only because of her roommate. The more she thought about it, though, the less dire the situation seemed. If he had been treating Applejack for that long, he might have grown fond of the mare. It seemed impossible not to. 

And if he had grown fond of the country mare, then perhaps he could see what Spitfire was trying to do. Maybe he’d even help her. Everypony has a soft side, Spitfire told herself. All you have to do is exploit his!

Thinking quickly, Spitfire sighed in an exaggerated manner. “I was looking for pudding,” she admitted plainly, hanging her head in mock defeat. “For my roommate Applejack. She’s a bit down in the dumps and I wanted to cheer her up.” Hoping her plan would work, Spitfire looked back up to where she knew the stallion was. “She really likes pudding, although I’m sure you knew that. You’re the one who looks after her burns, aren’t you?”

“Well, yes, I am,” he responded with the slightest hint of hesitation. “But you really shouldn’t be out here, General. You’re not supposed to be unsupervised.”

Even though she was trying to trick the doctor into helping her, Spitfire couldn’t help but get defensive. “Oh please, I’m a lot more confident on my hooves and I’m not some useless foal. I’m a general, for crying out loud,” she pointed out with a scowl and a roll of her eyes. “Just because I can’t see doesn’t mean I can’t do things on my own. Isn’t that the whole point of occupational therapy or whatever it is that I have to do?”

“W-well, no of course n—that’s not what I…” Maybe her little outburst did work. The doctor all but stammered his response like a newbie on the field. “I mean, I’m not exactly an expert in vision, I–I just thought…”

“I understand,” Spitfire interjected, cutting off the stuttering stallion. She made sure to add a sweet smile as she continued, “but I just want to help Applejack. Can you help me do that?”

“Well I suppose it would be good for her health to cheer up,” the doctor agreed softly. After a moment, he stomped a hoof on the ground and let out a sharp breath. “Okay, I will get a pudding for you, General, but you have to go straight back to your room, alright? I have a follow-up with Miss Applejack to attend. The nurse should be just about done with the initial check-up.”

“Is she getting better?” Spitfire asked, hoping for a positive answer.

“She’s on track,”  he replied in that way that meant he couldn’t tell her anything else but that. He took a step back that echoed on the hard, polished floor. “Stay right here.”

Spitfire nodded and decided to press herself against the wall instead of taking up the middle of the hallway. It wouldn’t take long for him to come back. The kitchen wasn’t too far from where she sat and he would likely not have to think of an excuse to take a pudding. If he said it was for a patient, they’d probably just let him take it. 

So she waited for a few short moments until the sound of hooves against ceramic alerted her to the return of the doctor. She heard that familiar magic sound again, and she could feel it in the front of her skull, but it didn’t hurt. It was only… a mild discomfort. She could deal with that.

“Okay, here’s the pudding,” he said urgently as he gently tapped the cup against Spitfire’s hoof to let her know where it was. As she took it in her hoof, the magic disappeared and the discomfort went with it. At least now she knew that her sensitivity to it was almost entirely gone.

“Thanks,” Spitfire responded with an honest smile. Her body filled with nerves but they weren’t the bad kind. It was more of… nervous excitement, something she couldn’t remember feeling in a while. It was like anxiety, but it didn’t feel heavy and negative. Instead, it fluttered in her stomach and forced the corners of her mouth into a deep grin. She could deal with that too. “It means a lot, Doc.”

He didn’t say anything, at least nothing notable. He might have muttered something under his breath or mumbled something inaudible, but it was pointless for Spitfire to even assume. She had bigger things to do. Better things. Greater things.

There was nothing greater than getting back on Applejack’s good side.

And Spitfire thought that she more than deserved it. In her opinion, she hadn’t done anything wrong. She was just trying to be supportive, to make Applejack feel better. Maybe it had come across as ingenuine, or at pandering or falsely sympathetic, but she had really meant it. Really, she did. And she really wanted to prove that to Applejack. To prove to the earth pony just how much she really meant to Spitfire.

So she took the pudding cup in her mouth and retraced her steps back to the room. Luckily, she didn’t bump into anypony else on the way back and swiftly closed the door behind her. As for the actual giving of the gift, Spitfire figured she could just give it to Applejack, but she wanted it to be special—to really show how she felt.

There had to be something better she could do, something worthwhile. Glancing around the room if only by muscle memory since she couldn’t see it at all, Spitfire thought something up. It wasn’t much, but it was all she could think to do. She just had to hope that somewhere in the room was a table of sorts and that she had enough imagination to make it work.

Spitfire knew that Applejack wouldn’t be gone for too much longer. Every check-up seemed shorter and shorter and she had already taken up enough time trying to think of something to do. In a rush, she simply dropped the pudding cup on the ground and stumbled around the room, inadvertently bumping into things as if she had just been admitted to the hospital, while in her search for the necessary items for her plan to work.

Just as she had thought, there was a small table on wheels that had been left behind from when they had brought their breakfast earlier. Carefully clearing the top of it of anything that might have been left behind, Spitfire wheeled it to what she thought was the centre of the room. She just really hoped she hadn’t messed it up, but from what she could gather from her spatial awareness, it should have been fine.

Next, she sought out something else. While it seemed a bit unbelievable to hear from a second-hoof account, Spitfire actually did find her other senses to be a bit heightened after her vision disappeared. Her nose, particularly, sharpened, and she used that to her advantage. There was always something in the room that particularly smelled a bit like Applejack; something that was never really explained to her. 

Like a bloodhound, she sniffed it out. For a moment, she felt a bit silly for going into Applejack’s half of the room and digging around without the mare’s permission, but she vindicated herself by reminding herself that it was for the greater good. Finally, she found what she was looking for, and from the far part of Applejack’s bed, she gripped something in between her teeth. It wasn’t particularly heavy, but judging by the offset of the weight of the time, it wasn’t something small, either. She stepped back and let go of the item to get a proper idea of what it was. 

With her muzzle, she felt around it and noticed it had a flat part and a raised part. It smelled like Applejack, that was for sure, but it also had a faint other smell, something similar to her earth pony friend. Whatever it was, it was very very faint. It wasn’t until Spitfire flipped the item over to reveal a hole on the bottom that she realized what she had. 

It was a hat. It must have been Applejack’s hat because it had her scent on it, but she couldn’t recall Applejack ever mentioning having a hat, especially not with her. She’d mentioned wearing mane nets and the work uniform, and how before the war she used to tie her mane with red ribbons and how she hated wearing dresses and dressing up. 

She’d even mentioned her brother’s yoke he’d gotten from their dad, and how her sister had a big pink bow that she had yet to grow into, and her grandmother’s neckerchief. But in all that, Applejack had never mentioned a hat.

Had she somehow brought it with her? Did somepony bring it for her? Spitfire would have noticed that—unless she wasn’t in the room when it happened, but even so, Applejack would have mentioned somepony coming to visit, right? Somepony would have said something. She was sure of it.

Regardless, if Applejack had the hat, then it must have been important to her because as far as Spitfire was aware, Applejack didn’t have any other personal items with her. She grabbed the hat as carefully as she could and went back to the middle of the room to place the hat on the table.

Except the table wasn’t there, and suddenly, Spitfire felt a bit disoriented. She quirked her head, sure that she was in the right spot, that she had left the table where she thought she had. 

Something felt off, but she couldn’t place her hoof on it. Her jaw clenched and her snout wrinkled as she looked around blindly, unable to see her surroundings. The pegasus stepped backwards onto something that cracked beneath her hoof and into something wet and squishy. Her gaze drifted down to it, but she saw only what she had been forced to see. Darkness.

Around her, the world grew louder and louder, the sound fading in from the eerie, faint ringing in her ears as they perked to attention. She kicked away what she had stepped on and flicked off the substance on her hoof. It felt… thick and sticky, like blood.

Spitfire gulped and shut her eyes and instead pinned her ears to her head to try to shut it all out. She didn’t want more blood on her hooves, she didn’t want the world to grow impossibly loud, and yet there she was, unseeing and unhearing in a space that did not exist. A growl built in her throat but died out in her clenched teeth.

“Spitfire?”

The pegasus stepped back in fear, trying to recoil from the voice. Her hoof met the blood-like substance and her wings flared out, sending a strange shockwave of discomfort through her. The next thing she knew, her hooves slipped from beneath her and her chest hit the ground flat. It was cold and hard and the liquidy, sticky substance clung to the fuzz on her chest. Something tugged at the item still in the grasp of her teeth, and she let it go without any hesitance. The world died down around her again, and Spitfire found herself exhausted and covered in the liquid chocolate pudding on the floor of her hospital room, trembling like a foal in the winter. Her heaving lungs didn’t do much to help as her breath shook in time with her body.

It must have only lasted a few seconds, but to Spitfire, it felt like an eternity. Never had she been so afraid to not be able to see. Not since the day it happened and for a while after that. The weight of what had just occurred weighed heavily on her, and the pegasus curled in on herself. 

“Hey, it’s alright, Spitfire,” came the voice that Spitfire longed to hear. Or at least, she did. She wasn’t so sure how much she wanted to hear Applejack’s voice at that exact moment, but hey, at least she was actually talking to her. “It’s fine, you’re fine. I, uh, came by myself. Do you want me to get somepony?”

It was silent for a moment until Spitfire managed to recollect herself enough to shakily sit up and shake her head. She looked away from where she knew Applejack was and blinked away a tear that managed to come to the surface. Anything she tried to say died out before she could even open her mouth, so the pegasus decided to stay quiet.

Shame spoke louder than words.

Once Spitfire seemed to calm down, Applejack reached out to her and nudged the pegasus’s shoulder lightly. “You okay now? What happened?”

Spitfire’s throat clenched up a bit, but she managed to power through it. “I’m fine,” she wheezed out before clearing her throat to speak more clearly. “I just wanted to give you pudding.”

After a brief moment of silence, Applejack let out an unbecoming snort-laugh. “Oh, so that’s what’s all over you?”

“Uh—”

“And just what in the hay were you doin’ with my… hat?” Applejack added, making her way next to Spitfire. Her voice wasn’t exactly accusatory, but it still made Spitfire squirm a bit.

Now that the reality of her surroundings actually hit Spitfire, she felt foolish. She didn’t even want to imagine in what state she left the room. For all that, though, at least Applejack was actually talking to her. Was that a win? 

She swallowed dryly and turned carefully to preen her wings – something she had been neglecting for a while. It gave her a moment to try to figure out just how she was going to explain her stupid plan to Applejack without making herself seem pathetic. She wasn’t sure if she had preened her wing enough, but she figured she could continue later. Not that it really mattered anyway.

“I wanted to make it up to you,” Spitfire admitted, throwing a hoof to her forehead as she did. “I know you like pudding, so I got you one, and I… found your hat. I thought maybe it’d make you feel better.” She wrinkled her nose and groaned. “It was a stupid idea, and I see that now. I just didn’t want you to be upset at me, Applejack. You’re my only friend.”

It was Applejack’s turn to be silent for a moment. She didn’t say anything as she gently pressed what seemed to be cloth or towel against Spitfire’s chest and dragged it down, probably to get the pudding off of her. “I ain’t mad at you.”

That was hard to believe. Spitfire furrowed her brow. “Really?”

Applejack definitely heard the sarcasm dripping from Spitfire’s voice as she scoffed. “I mean, maybe I was at the time, but I don’t think I was mad at you for what you said. I was just mad at myself.” She paused on the cleaning to huff and press a different towel against Spitfire’s coat. It was a bit scratchier than the last. “I didn’t really wanna believe what you were sayin’ ‘cause I thought it wasn’t true. I’m just… a bit afraid, Spitfire. Afraid, prideful, and stubborn.”

“So then why wouldn’t you talk to me?” 

“I didn’t wanna say something I didn’t mean,” Applejack explained as she wiped off the last of the pudding off of her body, or at least Spitfire thought she had. “I was bein’ a mite bit foolish. I know that, and I’m… sorry. I just didn’t wanna get my hopes up, you understand?”

Spitfire grimaced a bit as she tried to make sense of what Applejack was saying, but she only really understood some of what she had said. “I guess I kind of know what you mean, but why wouldn’t you believe me?”

Applejack huffed harshly. “‘Cause I’ve had just about enough of ponies lyin’ to me.”

“I wouldn’t lie to you, ‘Jack,” Spitfire promised, looking resolutely at the mare. “I swear, I wouldn’t do that. It might be silly to say, but you mean a lot to me. I don’t know how you feel about me, but you were there next to me this whole time and you’ve made being here just a bit more bearable.”

“Just a bit?” 

Spitfire could hear the teasing smile in her voice. She cracked a smile in return. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

The towel came back, this time rubbing at Spitfire’s jaw and the pegasus could just feel her face burning up at the touch. She hoped Applejack wouldn’t notice, but if she had, she didn’t show it. “Alright, alright. Well, like I said, I tend to get myself all worked up over nothin’, so I figure I should apologize for takin’ out my frustrations on you.”

“It’s okay,” Spitfire reassured her. “I get it, trust me.” She swallowed dryly and bit her lip. “Do you remember what I told you about what happened to me?”

“Eeyup.”

The pegasus took a deep breath. “I don’t know, I just… It kind of all came back to me just now. Not specifically the… the flashbang but just being in that war, you know? I could practically hear it, feel it, smell it. And I guess you just kind of remind me of my old troopmate—my old friend. The one that I told you about, the one that was the last face I saw.”

“Yeah, you told me ‘bout that, though you always made her seem so great,” Applejack pointed out. “And I remind you of her?”


Spitfire nodded slowly. “Her name is—was—Rainbow Dash. See, she… she went through something, too. I don’t remember if I told you, but she got her wing blown off by an explosive. Practically clean off,” she explained with a shudder. She could almost hear her agonized scream. 

“Shit.”

“Yeah. And y’know what? She loved flying, she used to be so… so full of life. Always brought a smile on our faces,” she recalled with a tiny grin. “She loved playing pranks while we were in the barracks or waiting to be called on duty. But despite being so foalish, she was one of the best soldiers I ever had the pleasure of serving with.” Her smile faltered. “As time went on, she lost that spark. It happens to everypony.

“You see stuff out there, stuff you can’t unsee. It gets burned into you, Applejack,” Spitfire croaked out, her voice just barely cracking. “It doesn’t matter where you are or what you’re doing, it’s all you think about sometimes. I guess it happened to Rainbow Dash too, except the last straw was that explosive. She was too young for that to happen to her.”

“What happened to her after?”

“Well, they patched her up. They had to remove what was left of her wing.” Spitfire frowned as she remembered how her friend’s attitude had changed. “She became… really dark after that. Bitter, almost. I can’t blame her. She had to go around with only half a pair of wings. You can’t be a Wonderbolt if you can’t fly, so she was put back on the ground troops. I think she hated it. I never really saw her smile that whole time.”

Applejack let the silence linger for a moment until she spoke up barely above a whisper, “And you think I’m gonna be like that?”

Spitfire shook her head. “No, but I don’t think you’re immune to it. See, the thing is that after a while, they finally made a prosthetic wing suitable for battle, and Crash was one of the first pegasi to be fitted with one. I saw her smile that day, just a bit. She never went back to that same Rainbow Dash I knew, but… but she was a little bit more whole after that.

“I know that it’s not the same, what happened to you and what happened to her, but I can’t help but make an association, Applejack. I just… I don’t want you to lose yourself because of some injury.” Her lips quivered as she searched for the words she wanted to say, but found herself unable to think of anything of substance. She huffed in frustration with herself but kept going. “I meant it when I said that you’re more than just your burns. Whatever you look like when I finally get to see you, that’s the Applejack I know, and seeing you won’t change that.” 

“You really mean it?” Applejack echoed.

“I swear. I’ll prove it to you after we get out of here,” Spitfire promised with an earnest smile. Just being with Applejack made her feel better despite the massive fool she had made of herself. At least her plan worked… even if not as expected.

Applejack shuffled in front of her. Spitfire could feel her physically get closer until the earth pony’s fuzzy cheek rubbed against hers in a nuzzle. “After we get out,” the country mare echoed, burying her muzzle in Spitfire’s neck.
> Six
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It had been a month since Spitfire and Applejack reconciled, and Spitfire hadn’t felt this happy since before the war started and she was just a regular Wonderbolts captain—the type that coordinated stunt shows, not the type that led ponies into war and possibly their own deaths.

The building excitement in her body wasn’t only because she was once again next to Applejack, the mare that she might love—the verdict was still out on that—but also because she was supposed to go for her last eyesight appointment in only a few hours or less. She wasn’t exactly sure, the time seemed to pass differently when the hospital no longer felt like a drag, but instead a cause for joy as they would hopefully both soon be able to leave.

By a stroke of luck, Applejack had been cleared at her last check-up and was deemed ready to leave after one last round of antibiotics, some salves, and instruction for home care in case anything came up. Magic really was something to be happy for, Spitfire figured. They could both leave soon, by the end of the week at most, she figured.

In fact, they were both so overjoyed that despite the dismay of multiple members of the hospital staff, the two mares had eagerly pushed their beds together and began talking into the dead of night like fillies at summer camp. When they’d chastise them and split up the sleeping arrangements up again in the morning, they would just do it over again in the night. After the first week, the doctors gave up on making them stop. There wasn’t really any harm to it, so why make them stop?

Spitfire couldn’t help but smile at the thought of doing something so foalish and immature. She wouldn’t have ever done something like that, but being with Applejack made her feel like a filly again. She adjusted her current position until she pushed further into Applejack’s sleeping body. 

The earth pony was no longer ashamed to have Spitfire feel her burns. She no longer turned her body away from the pegasus so she couldn’t feel the wrinkled skin that covered where she had been injured. Instead, Spitfire now felt it along her back and over her barrel where Applejack had left her foreleg. The pegasus was careful not to move too much as to not wake Applejack up, but she really couldn’t sleep. She was too excited!

And nervous. Definitely nervous. Like with any medical procedure, there was the chance that something could go wrong, but everything had been going so well that she wasn’t really that worried about it. They’d said the margin of error was small, small enough so that it shouldn’t be a big concern, and Spitfire was definitely not going to blow things out of proportion. She had a knack for surviving. Her time in the war had proved that, despite all odds, Spitfire would always see things through to the other side.

In the meantime, she was more than happy to lay in Applejack’s grasp. She wasn’t sure exactly what it meant, but she figured that Applejack didn’t really know either. They just let whatever happened happen, and they grew closer because of that. Spitfire at least knew she liked Applejack. More than she’d like a friend, that was for sure. She like liked Applejack.

The pegasus clicked her tongue in amusement. “Tch, what am I,” she whispered, shaking her head, “a school filly? Like-like.”

Behind her, Applejack let out a low hum. “Spitfire?” she groggily asked in the darkness of the room. “You say somethin’?”

It had to be at least an hour or two before dawn, and Spitfire certainly hadn’t meant to wake Applejack up. Guilt made her wilt, but it didn’t last long as Applejack tightened her hold on the pegasus. Spitfire’s heart skipped a beat, which only made her roll her eyes at herself. “I was just talking to myself.”

“Oh, I thought I heard somethin’. What about?” Applejack’s creaky, sleep-filled voice asked softly into Spitfire’s ear. Her breath tickled, and Spitfire snorted out a tiny laugh. 

“I was thinking about you, actually,” Spitfire admitted. “I’m going to finally get to see you, ‘Jack. I guess I’m just excited.” 

Applejack chuckled. Her chest rumbled with it and Spitfire felt her laugh. She couldn’t hold back the laugh that escaped her own lips—a giddy, gleeful one that lasted a short time, but it held all the mirth inside her. She really was like a little filly, but she didn’t mind! 

“Well I’m excited for ya,” Applejack responded, nuzzling Spitfire from behind. “I think after all this time I’ve finally steadied myself. I’m ready for you to see me. Just in time, too, don’t ya think?”

Spitfire nodded. “I’ve been dreaming about you saying those words, you know. Feels good to finally hear them come from you.” She leaned her head into Applejack’s nuzzle, feeling the way Applejack’s skin felt against her coat. 

“Mhm,” Applejack vocalized as she stopped the nuzzle, much to Spitfire’s dismay. She loosened her hold on the pegasus, which Spitfire knew to mean that she wanted to talk face-to-face, so she adjusted herself onto her other side, curious about what Applejack wanted to talk about. Applejack moved, too, probably onto her stomach. She had said once that it was more comfortable that way. 

“What’s up? I can tell you wanna say something,” Spitfire prompted curiously.

“Well, before all this, I just wanna clear somethin’ up, I guess,” Applejack started. “Now, don’t you mind this question. I reckon you’ll figure I’m about as dense as the apple trees I grew up around, and it’s true, but I just gotta ask… Well, to be blunt, is there somethin’ between us?”

Spitfire knew that Applejack had to be blushing, and she just wished she could see it. She did her best to try to suppress her own blush, but there was only so much she could do about the way her blood decided to flow into her face. Instead, she tried to play it cool. “If you want there to be,” Spitfire offered. “I think we got caught up in each other and let it happen, but we never really talked about it.”

“If I’m being honest, well, I do like you, Spitfire,” Applejack admitted. “I never did feel this way ‘bout anypony before, but I know it’s true. I just really had to ask. We’ve been, y’know, sharin’ a bed for a while now.”

They both laughed softly at that. 

“Well, Applejack, I would like it if there was nothing between us,” Spitfire said teasingly. “By which I mean I want you to hold me again.”

“Oh, you’re like a li’l puppy, you know that?” Applejack asked, prodding at Spitfire to urge her to return to her spot. “C’mon then, ya softie. Are all pegasi soldiers like you? ‘Cause I know the earth ponies sure ain’t.”

Spitfire let herself be held again, though she really couldn’t the redness she could feel burning her cheeks. “If you tell anyone, I swear to Celestia I’ll show you just why I’m a general.”

“Scary.”





Applejack snored sometimes, which was fine. Spitfire had long been desensitized to sleeping around various noises, but for some reason, Applejack’s snoring had woken Spitfire up for the first time. Her eyes blinked groggily open, only for her to realize she hadn’t even noticed ever falling asleep. Though, to be fair, most ponies don’t ever notice falling asleep. 

Applejack had turned on her back and slept with her hooves in the air, which meant that Spitfire wouldn’t have to shimmy out of her grip. That, at least, was good. The slight amount of light she was able to make out told her it was dawn, though she wasn’t sure how far along the sunrise was. It didn’t really matter, she figured, just as long as it was fully up by the time she would be able to open her eyes and really see.

Carefully, she made her way off the bed and gently touched her hooves to the ground. Once on all fours, she turned and decided to actually preen her wings. She wouldn’t be able to see what she was doing, but she could do a good enough job without sight. For some reason, she felt more adamant about looking presentable that day. Maybe it had something to do about finally being able to see herself.

Oof, I must look like a mess, she realized with an amused smile as she pulled on a stray feather and straightened it out as best as she could. If she was half as disastrous as her wings appeared to be, then it was a miracle that Applejack had any kind of interest in her.

As if on cue, the earth pony snored loudly and then mumbled something inaudible before returning to the quiet snoring. Spitfire smiled at that and decided she was done with her wings. They were as good as they were going to get and besides, she could always finish them up after. All she had left to do was wait. She sat kind of in the middle of the room. It felt so much bigger with their beds together, which only left her wondering why they were even still there. “They” being herself and Applejack. 

Surely, they could have been sent home and been told to come back for check ups after they had recovered enough, but at the same time, Spitfire would guess that it was safer to keep at least Applejack in the hospital where it was sterile and risk of infection was low. It had clearly worked; there had been no complications when it came to the earth pony’s recovery, so the next question was why they had kept Spitfire there.

Did they feel sorry for her? Where could she have been sent anyway? Cloudsdale was pretty much just a military base, and it wasn’t like she could stay at anypony’s house; all of her friends were gone. That prompted a morbid thought to pop into the pegasus’s head. Maybe they were keeping her so they could keep an eye on her. To make sure she didn’t try anything.

The thought made her frown because she totally understood why that would be the case. Before Applejack came, Spitfire dreaded being in the hospital. She dreaded being alive. Why did she get to survive but none of her friends did? Why was she the lucky one? That’s what a doctor—or maybe a nurse?—had told her all those months ago, that she was one of the lucky ones. She certainly didn’t feel that way at the time.

But now? Now, Spitfire could hear Applejack sleeping off somewhere behind her. There was no more hissing from machines, no more incessant beeping, no more things to remind her what she hated about herself and about her environment. For the first time in forever, Spitfire felt giddy. It was almost easy to forget the state of the world but with Applejack around, that hardly mattered.

Soon, she’d get her vision back and whatever happened after was a problem for future Spitfire. 

The procedure was set to happen in the early morning. It wasn’t supposed to take very long but she did have to wear a blindfold for a day after. It was almost cruel to keep her from being able to see with a blindfold, but it was for medical reasons and Spitfire wasn’t about to argue with that. Whatever it took, it would be worth it. Besides, that meant she got to take off her blindfold with Applejack, too. She made sure of that.

As excited as she was, she was equal parts nervous. It had almost just become normal to not see anything but lights and shadows and the idea of being thrown back into pitch-black nothingness again was a bit nerve-wracking, but it was only temporary. She hoped.

Regardless, since the sun was rising, then it would happen soon. And then she would have to stay for one last night, and if things went well, then she’d be clear to leave along with Applejack who also had her final appointment on the same day. She would finally lay her eyes on Applejack, and they could leave. That was what they had wanted for so long. So many nights awake wishing to leave soon. Talking about what it’d be like to get out of the hospital, hoping that maybe the world wouldn’t be as shit as it was four months ago.

Four months. It seemed like such a long time, but looking back, it was only four months. Yet, as Spitfire and Applejack both knew, life could change in a split second. And four months were full of split seconds. Spitfire just hoped that every single one of those counted for something. All the talks, and the listening, and even the arguing. Arguing that led to making up. Arguing that led to the closeness she was able to have with Applejack. It was all worth it. That made her smile.

From the bed, Applejack stirred. Spitfire’s ears turned to the noise, followed by her head. She hadn’t even noticed Applejack’s snores subside until the mare’s yawn filled the air once again. 

“Good morning, Sleepyjack,” Spitfire teased. 

“Howdy,” she greeted in return. “Did you sleep at all? I know you were up late last night, and you’re up with the sunrise now. Nervous?”

Spitfire laughed and shook her head. “No, I’m not really nervous. Well, I guess in a way I am, but it’s more just… nerves. Does that make sense?”

“I get what you mean.” After a moment, Applejack had jumped down to the floor as well and sat next to Spitfire. “That’s how my li’l sis always felt before field trips at her school.”

“Yeah, I guess it is kinda like that,” Spitfire agreed. She shifted her weight between her forelegs, feeling how the pain had entirely gone away. Sometimes, her shoulder felt sore or couldn’t handle all her weight, but that would hopefully go away in time. It just reminded her of how much time she had really passed with Applejack by her side, even if sometimes it felt like Applejack didn't want to be there. 

“Whatcha thinkin’ bout?” Applejack asked, breaking into Spitfire’s thought. The pegasus gave her a funny look, to which Applejack responded with a smile. “Ya get this look on your face when you’re thinkin’. It’s kinda cute.”

Spitfire rolled her eyes and looked away. “I was just thinking about how much has changed in the past four months. The main thing for me being my injuries, of course, but that made me think about how we’ve changed, too,” she explained. “You used to be so quiet and reserved. I guess I understood why, but you always kept me at a distance. But then we started to get closer, and every time I noticed that I could put more weight on my leg, I noticed you would speak more, too.”

In turn, Applejack let out a short chuckle. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I can’t lie, I don’t really like gettin’ close to ponies, but it was hard not to get close to you.”

“Is it because we’re always in the same room?”

“Hah, that and the fact that you made it worth wakin’ up, Spitfire,” Applejack admitted. “I was so scared about what happened to me, and I let it get between us for a bit there. You’re a lot nicer than I thought you’d be, y’know.”

“Hey, that goes for you too, ‘Jack. But seriously, I think you’re the best thing that could have happened to me.” 

“Back at ya,” Applejack responded. “I can’t imagine what I woulda done without you here.”

Spitfire smiled and used her sense of hearing to guide her to Applejack’s face where she gave a soft nuzzle. “I don’t think I even want to think about that.”

“Hah!” Applejack guffawed and leaned back. “Yeah, me neither. Maybe I woulda gotten a different annoyin’ roommate.”

“So I’m annoying now?” Spitfire quipped, flashing a smile at Applejack, who she was sure rolled her eyes. “Hey, at least I’m not in a full-body wing and hoof cast drinking through a straw! Imagine that.” She made an elongated exaggerated slurping sound until Applejack gently whacked her with a hoof and they both started laughing.

Just as they finished their bout of laughter, the door opened with that same telltale squeak.

“Oh good, you’re both awake,” spoke a familiar voice. It was one of the nurses that regularly came to check on them. “You must both be excited.”

“Yes ma’am, we are!” Applejack responded with the same, almost strange, level of enthusiasm she had picked up recently. “Spitfire here’s just about rarin’ to get out, and I feel the same.”

Spitfire cleared her throat. “It’s not like we aren’t appreciative of everything you’ve been doing for us or anything, in fact, it’s really been amazing what you have been able to do! But—” 

“I understand,” the nurse interjected. “If I was stuck here for four months, I think I’d be just about ready to leave as well. Don’t worry.”

The pegasus nodded and sighed in relief. She couldn’t think of a way to respond to that so she stayed silent as a different set of hoofsteps came in. 

“Good morning, General. I see you’re up bright and early,” a stallion’s voice spoke. This one she had only heard a few times when they had actually improved her vision. That must be the unicorn who was going to try to finalize it all. “I trust you’re ready for the final hurdle.”

Spitfire gulped as Applejack placed a hoof on her back. She wasn’t nervous before, but she was starting to feel the butterflies in her stomach. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Well, then we’d better get going. I’ll give you a moment to get yourself ready.” With that being said, he left the room. His hoofsteps echoed in the hallway.

Spitfire smirked a bit. He really wasn’t a stallion of many words, but that was just fine by her. A set of familiar-sounding wheels squeaked close to her. She narrowed her eyes to try to remember what that noise was when it hit her. Her eyes widened and she shook her head in amused disbelief. “Is that a wheelchair?”

“Yes, we know you can walk to the room, but it’s better for you to conserve your energy,” the nurse explained.

“I guess I’m ending this how I started,” Spitfire joked. “Blind and in a wheelchair.”

As she took her seat on the chair, Applejack chortled a bit behind her. Spitfire stuck her tongue out in the hopes that the earth pony saw before waving as the chair started to move.

Soon, she’d be done. Just two more days.

The door shut behind her and she knew she was on her way. It was weird to be wheeled out of the room again after so long, but it was oddly comforting, kind of like closure. Hopefully, it’d be one of the last times she’d be wheeled out of anywhere.

They were taking her somewhere different. She could tell. It wasn’t the familiar room where they did most of her check-ins and procedures. They had gone further down the hallway and taken a right rather than a left. That made sense, it was probably meant for more important procedures. 

Spitfire gulped. They had stopped moving her, and judging by the lights she could see, they were in a different room now. It seemed like there were at least two other ponies in there, judging by the hushed whispering that died out shortly after she had been rolled in. 

The pony wheeling her in gave her a gentle tap on the shoulder as she stepped away from the room and closed the door behind her. That made sense, she didn’t usually stick around for any of the actual procedures. 

“Well, General,” the same stoic voice from before spoke, “are you ready now?”

As the second pony guided Spitfire to a different seat, one meant to hold an unconscious patient with what felt like several straps, she nodded and let out a curt breath. “Sure am, Doc.”

The all too familiar feeling of magic washed over her as her body relaxed with it. Her eyelids were heavy and the voices around her faded away along with her consciousness.

As she drifted into sleep, she couldn’t keep the smile from her face until it finally fell asleep along with the rest of her body.



 

“You ready?”

Spitfire could stand to never hear that question again, or at least not for a while. The circumstances surrounding that specific utterance made it okay, though. That and the pony asking it.

A soft wind blew through her mane as she fiddled with the blindfold nestled over her eyes. The pegasus nodded at Applejack’s question. “Yeah, I am.”

The hospital had a courtyard that was actually not a horrible place to be, according to what Spitfire had heard. Much like the outside world, it was a bit barren, though not in such a bad way. She could feel it in the soft, gentle breeze and in the way the wind carried some warmth to it. The air even smelled nice, and she wondered what kind of magic had been cast to keep it so different than the outside world. It might have even been easy to forget it was even part of a hospital, especially since she couldn’t see.

The feeling of the stone floor beneath her hooves and the warm breeze made Spitfire’s heart lurch, but that was nothing compared to how she felt when Applejack’s hooves came to rest on her shoulders. She felt how the earth pony trembled slightly, but she couldn’t judge because she was probably shaking worse.

It was finally time to take off the blindfold. 

“Alright, Spitfire,” a different voice spoke. It was one of the ponies who had done the procedure the day before. Spitfire wasn’t exactly sure of her name, but she recognized her voice. “As per your request, we brought your roommate. And as per her request, we’re doing this outside.”

“You sure you still want me to be the first thing you see?” Applejack asked from directly in front of her.

Spitfire nodded. “More than anything.” 

She was ready, and she was so nervous. But Applejack was the thing that kept her from falling apart. Of course she wanted to see her. Applejack pushed gently down on Spitfire’s shoulders as if to mimic a nod and then let the pegasus go. Preemptively, Spitfire shut her eyes. The knot on the blindfold loosened but was held to her eyes for a moment extra. The pegasus almost wanted to force herself out of its blinding hold, but she forced herself to sit still.

“Here goes nothing,” Spitfire whispered as the blindfold dropped and the sun’s light beamed on her eyelids. Even with her eyes closed, it was impossibly bright. However, that wasn’t what she had been waiting for.

With a slow exhale, Spitfire opened her eyes and looked at Applejack. 

She was blurry at first, just a mess of colours against the dim grays of the outdoor setting. Spitfire couldn’t keep her eyes from instinctually blinking against the almost painful light but her eyes adjusted and Applejack finally came into view, even if it was still a bit blurry. 

Just like she thought that day that Applejack had described herself to the pegasus, she was better than anything Spitfire could have ever imagined.
> Epilogue
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Canterlot National Cemetery.

It was a strangely beautiful place and obviously well cared for. Uniform graves lined the ground, each evenly spaced and decorated with colourful, yet respectful, flowers.

It was a military cemetery, and it was a lot larger than it should have been. Two years after the end of the war, it never got any easier to go back in and visit.

Spitfire sighed and looked over the flat ground with matching tombstones. On each one was an engraved cutie mark – the cutie mark of the pony buried beneath. The archway at the entrance read the name of the cemetery in intricate black metal lettering.

The pegasus adjusted her sunglasses and looked behind her. She had gotten a bit ahead of herself, so she found herself waiting for her companion to join her.

She’d always come alone to the cemetery, but Spitfire had gotten a letter informing her that her old troopmates were going to be receiving an award, and she thought she should bring somepony with her.

All tidied up in her formal dress uniform, Spitfire smiled as Applejack finally turned the corner, only looking a tiny bit annoyed. She could probably guess why.

“Do ya have to go so fast?”

Spitfire was right. She smiled and rolled her eyes. After all that time, her eyesight never fully recovered, that is to say, it wasn’t perfect vision. She was horribly nearsighted, but the prescriptions she always wore made it bearable. And she even had shades for going out! That helped with the headaches the sun gave her too.

Plus, it made her look pretty spiffy in her uniform. She even got to wear her own medals, though she didn’t like to brag about those much. Surprising, she knew that, but she still didn’t think she deserved any of them. Well, maybe the Purple Heart.

“Sorry, ‘Jack. I guess I’m just a bit nervous,” she admitted once Applejack got close. “I don’t know why, it’s not like it’s my award ceremony. But still, they were my friends, and I have to give a speech.”

Applejack nodded in understanding. “You’ll do fine, sugarcube. I’ve heard you practicin’ for weeks. You’ve got it in the bag.”

“Hah, I sure hope so,” the pegasus replied with a crooked smile. “I worked really hard on it.” She glanced nervously at her jacket pocket where her speech hid from the public eye. 

The earth pony next to her brought her hoof up to Spitfire’s cheek, drawing her attention, and winked. “You’ll make ‘em proud.”

Four years after getting out of the hospital, Applejack had made a good recovery. Despite that, she often still wore clothes, but Spitfire thought that was more just what she was used to from working in the factory. Beneath that, her coat grew in thinner where she had been burned and had some patches and areas where it probably wouldn’t grow again, but she definitely looked quite different from the mare Spitfire had first laid her eyes on.

She was still every bit just as beautiful, though. 

Spitfire wiped a stray tear from her cheek and shrugged. “You kidding, ‘Jackie? They’re the ones who made me proud. I have so much to thank them for, and they deserve it all. I just want to make sure my speech is good enough for them.”

“As long as you’re givin’ it, then it’ll be enough,” Applejack reassured her. She leaned in to give Spitfire a gentle kiss before nuzzling her with a smile. “Now would it kill ya to slow down? It ain’t any easier to walk in these braces now than it was four years ago.”

With a light chuckle, Spitfire nodded in agreement. “Okay, I’ll be right beside you, then.”

Side by side, they walked into the cemetery. There were a lot of other ponies there, many of them dressed up in their formal uniforms like she was, and many of them not, like Applejack. The earth pony herself wore a set of her own nicest clothes, which consisted of a brown collared jacket and a white button-up. Perched atop her head was that same beat-up hat she wore so often. Apparently, it used to be her father’s hat. It looked good on her, though.

Spitfire politely greeted ponies as they trotted past with small smiles, keeping every interaction appropriate for a cemetery. She made a few stops along the way to visit graves of ponies she once knew, but for the most part, Spitfire led them exactly where they needed to go. She could probably even lead the way with her eyes closed.

Not that she’d ever want to.

Finally, they reached a crowd at the end of the cemetery where Princess Celestia herself stood, politely making conversation with a small group. Spitfire steeled herself and glanced at Applejack, who gave a small nod and motioned forward with her head. With a nod, Spitfire took a deep breath and pressed forward, pushing herself into the group. As she thought, the circle opened up for her as they all turned to her, a few politely dipping their heads and a few saluting to her. She was their superior for the most part, even in retirement, so she nodded her head at them.

It had been a while since she had to wear her formals, but as per the request of the organizer and the Princess herself, all attendants were asked to come in their uniform if applicable. It was a bit difficult for Spitfire to wear them after all that time, but it brought her a semblance of pride. She was proud of herself and for all she’d done, and now it was her turn to be proud of her friends.

As she bowed to the Princess, who motioned for her to stand again, Spitfire looked around at the ponies she stood with and noticed she recognized most of them. The only ones she couldn’t place a name to were one of the earth ponies and the unicorn. She knew the other ones, though. Surprise, Blaze, and High Winds were pegasi she recognized from her time as a Wonderbolt both as a show group and a military group, and she knew Pinkie Pie if only because Rainbow Dash used to talk about her from her time on the ground. 

“Hello, General Spitfire,” greeted the Princess. “I’m glad you were able to join us.”

It was still strange to be addressed by rank, but Spitfire wasn’t going to make a big deal of it, especially not to the Princess. Besides, she figured since she did go back to serve one last time before the war ended after she recovered before retiring, then it wasn’t all that strange for her to still be addressed formally.

“I’m honoured to be here,” Spitfire responded politely. “When I heard that my old troopmates were going to be decorated, I made it my top priority to be there. Especially when I received the invite to give a speech.” Her smile was small, but it held all the emotion she wanted it to. 

The group nodded in tandem. It was nice to see the occasion not as something sad, but as something positive. The funeral had already happened, and even though Spitfire had to miss it during her recovery, she had already had plenty of time to make her peace with it. Especially with Applejack by her side.

She glanced behind her at the earth pony, who was making what looked like an awkward, polite conversation with ponies she recognized as Soarin’s buddies. The two made eye contact and Applejack’s expression read as a slight cry for help. Spitfire rolled her eyes in good faith and waved a hoof over. Politely, the earth pony excused herself from the conversation and came to Spitfire’s side.

Before she could even introduce her, Surprise chimed in, “Is this that Applejack pony you kept telling us about that one time we went to the watering hole?”

Everypony turned their head to Applejack, who not-so-subtly hid behind her hat. Spitfire kept a stern face, but the blush in her cheeks softened the expression. “Yes, this is her. Everypony, meet Applejack. She’s my partner.”

After some greetings were exchanged—during which Spitfire finally put names to all the faces—the Princess politely left the group to go talk to Soarin’s family. Applejack visibly relaxed a bit at that. 

Pinkie Pie raised an eyebrow and stuck out a hoof. “Hey, I’m Pinkie Pie. I served alongside Rainbow Dash.” 

Applejack bumped hooves with her. She tried on a tiny smile. “Nice to meet ya.”

“Rainbow Dash told us a lot about Spitfire,” she pointed out, glancing at the pegasus. “You’re a lucky pony, Applejack. The General’s a great mare.”

The pony next to her—Maud, she learned was her name—nodded. “She always spoke highly of you.”

Spitfire rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly. “Oh, well, you know Rainbow Dash. She was always one to look up to her superiors.”

The rest of the Wonderbolts muttered agreements, each with a crooked smile on their face.

“I’m sure everything she said was right,” Applejack pointed out to Spitfire. “You are a pretty amazing mare. I’m sure you were also a pretty great General.”

“Hay yeah,” Blaze interjected. “She even came back for that last battle before we forced the Crystal Empire into a corner. We all thought she would have been discharged or retired, but you could never really stop the General, could you?”

High Winds and Surprise chuckled a bit. The white-coated pegasus jabbed gently at Spitfire’s shoulder. “Whether you’re the captain of the Wonderbolts or a general in the Equestrian Air Force, you never backed down, no matter what. That’s why they both looked up to you. Soarin never shut up about you either, you know.”

“Yeah, I know. He was my right-hoof pony,” Spitfire remembered with a sad smile. “I could always count on him. He was always so dependable, before and during the war.”

The circle of ponies went into a comfortable silence. Applejack leaned her head against Spitfire’s and subtly rubbed her chin against the pegasus’s head. Luckily, the silence didn’t last too long before Princess Celestia took her place at the head of the clearing. The rest of the ponies gathered around, Spitfire keeping Applejack by her side until she had to stand at the front as well.

Two of the highest ranked officers, one an earth pony stallion and the other a unicorn mare, stood alongside her. They were dressed the same way the rest of the ex-military were, and a firm expression rested on their face. She adopted that same look easily. It came naturally to her—she was always known for her sterness, even just as the captain of the Wonderbolts. 

It was pretty smart to have the highest ranking officer of each pony type alongside the alicorn Princess, Spitfire figured as Celestia began the ceremony. Beneath her sunglasses, Spitfire glanced around at the group that presented themselves. It was a rather large group made up of many of the still-living military and the families or friends of those who were no longer present. They stood quietly and firmly in line, while anypony who was not military stood off to the side in clumps.

The pegasus hadn’t even noticed she wasn’t paying attention until she heard her cue to give the speech. She internally kicked herself for the blatant disrespect, but there was little she could do about it. She could only make sure her speech went perfectly, for Soarin and Rainbow Dash’s sake. 

Taking a deep breath, she took the spot where Celestia stood at the pedestal and cleared her throat. Her eyes subconsciously shifted to Applejack, who must have known Spitfire would look at her and nodded briefly in reassurance. With hooves as steady as she could make them, Spitfire fished out the folded-up piece of paper in her pocket and smoothed it out on the top of the lectern. 

“Good afternoon, fillies and gentlecolts,” she started with little hint of nerves in her voice. “My name’s Spitfire, General of the Equestrian Air Force and head of the Wonderbolts. As you all know, we’re here to award two of our fallen soldiers with well-deserved decoration; the Royal Equestrian Air Force Cross, awarded for their bravery and dedication in and out of combat, and, of course, the Purple Heart, awarded in honour of their injuries sustained during battle. As anypony who’s served with them knows, they are more than deserving of these.

“Even when I was simply somepony who would yell at Soarin for not doing a corkscrew tight enough, I knew he was special. He would always put other ponies before himself, and that is why he was such a great soldier. And even when Rainbow Dash was simply somepony who looked up to me, she showed signs of loyalty beyond the levels of anypony else, and that translated onto the battlefield.

“These decorations will immortalize their efforts and make sure nopony will ever forget them. I definitely won’t let their legacy disappear.” Her voice wavered for a moment, so she took a second to clear her throat and steady herself again. “They saved my life, and they sacrificed themselves so that I could get out safely. I know they would have done the same for anypony else, commanding officer or not. If that isn’t the mark of true heroism and selflessness, then I don’t know what is.

“It is my biggest honour to give this speech so that Rainbow Dash and Soarin’s acts of bravery will forever be immortalized. After all these years, I’m glad it’s happening. Now, let’s not make this a sad occasion or anything. We all know Rainbow Dash would hate that,” she joked, drawing some chuckles from the crowd. “And Soarin wouldn’t like it, either. Thank you, Princess Celestia, for the honour.”

She dipped her head to the alicorn and took back her paper, neatly placing it back in her pocket. As she took back her place next to the Princess, she glanced at Applejack, who gave her an approving nod.

Relief washed over her as she smiled in return. Something about giving that speech really set in place that, yes, her friends were gone, and they had been for years. But that didn’t mean they would never be remembered, that she couldn’t remember them. It didn’t mean she had to be alone.

In fact, they wouldn’t have wanted that for her. They would have wanted her to move on. It would have been a waste of their efforts, and perhaps even an insult to them, to not make the best of her continued life span. They didn’t die so that Spitfire could be miserable for the rest of her life.

For the first time since their passing, Spitfire found herself happy while she thought about them. Not sad, or bittersweet, but happy. She really only had one pony to thank for that, and she just couldn’t draw her eyes away from Applejack, who listened respectfully.

The rest of the ceremony passed quickly, and ended with a round of respectful applause, as well as salutes from all the military present as the Princess herself made her way a few rows down to their graves. She hung each of their medals on the tombstone; truly an honour! The Princess herself.

Noting the ceremony as having ended, the ponies once again fell into their groups. Spitfire instinctually made her way to Applejack, who half-limped to her with a smile. The earth pony reached down to nuzzle her softly, which Spitfire accepted with no hesitation. 

“You did real good, Spits,” Applejack whispered as Spitfire chuckled through the tears that surprised her. 

She hiccuped a cry, though the tears that fell from her eyes were purely ones of happiness and pride. She had no need to feel bad about herself or anything else anymore, so she nodded into Applejack’s shoulder. 

Applejack hugged her tighter. “Real good.”