The rusty hinges on the old barn door broke the relative silence of the night as it slowly creaked open. The interior was illuminated by the low, flickering light from a lantern hung loosely by the straps of Applejack’s saddlebag as she took a few weary steps inside. She turned and gave the farmhouse one last glance, ensuring that all the lights were indeed still off and that nopony had noticed her departure, nor the pesky sound of those hinges she swore she’d replace just to ease her own paranoia in moments like these. When it appeared her family still slept soundly in their beds, she turned back around and headed deeper in to the barn.
She sat down on her haunches, resting her back on a trusty support beam that held up the hay loft above. She exhaled an exhausted sigh, her eyes heavy as she loosened the knot holding the lantern at her flank. After untying the lantern and setting it aside, she reached in to her saddlebag. Her hoof rummaged around for a moment, but soon she produced the thing that’d brought her outside so late in to Luna’s night - Again.
She stared at the bottle she now held in her hoof, contemplating just how she wound up in this absurd position. Sneaking around like a school filly, hiding things from her family… It all felt so immature and shameful. It wasn’t as if Granny Smith, Big Mac, or Apple Bloom were oblivious to the fact that Applejack drank. Hard cider was, after all, the most profitable export from Sweet Apple Acres. Save for young Apple Bloom, the Apple clan all had their share of occasional drinks. That much was to be expected. But Applejack drank more. More than her family knew and more than her own conscience was comfortable with. Nagging feelings of guilt poked at her mind and churned her stomach, yet night after night she found herself hiding in this very barn putting bottles to her lips in order to find sweet, if temporary, escape from the pain that grew more formidable with each passing day.
It started when her "one cider after work" turned in to two, and then three, and then four - And then suddenly cider wasn’t enough. The amount she had to drink just to feel a buzz of any sort was far too inconvenient. It lead to an annoying number of bathroom trips, and garnered uncomfortable attention from her concerned family who hadn’t failed to notice the progression of her habit. She’d officially drank herself to a considerable alcohol tolerance. She could’ve stopped then. She could’ve reduced her intake and allowed her tolerance to fade, but she didn’t want to. She decided that if cider alone wouldn’t get the job done like it used to, then she would just have to upgrade to something a bit more potent.
She traced the letters on the bottle with her hoof, her eyes vaguely running over the label as she got more than a little lost in her memories. “Applejack” the bottle read, in gold cursive lettering with a mossy green backdrop. Though the bottle bore her namesake, it wasn’t until she was a grown mare that she'd learned her parents named her after a drink; And a rather strong one at that. The irony, given the current state of affairs, was not lost upon her. She pulled the stopper out of the bottleneck with clenched teeth, spitting it in to a nearby bed of hay. She raised the bottle to her lips and allowed it's contents to pour in to her mouth. She rolled the flavor around on her tongue, swishing the beverage a little, then gave it a swallow as she winced. It never went down particularly well at first, but usually a few swigs was enough to numb her taste buds and ease the process.
If you asked Applejack’s friends, or her family, they’d all tell you the same thing. Applejack was undoubtedly the toughest mare they knew. No matter what the trouble at hoof may have been, she faced it with a stoic grace that only a few ponies in all of Equestria could hope to achieve. Tears were foreign to her cheeks, and there wasn't a force in Tartarus itself that could cause her to give up. Whatever punches life threw her way, she'd take them on the chin with an expression that said "Try harder next time."
That’s what her friends and family would say, but if you asked Applejack, she might just tell you the truth. The pedestal that ponies placed her upon was falsely earned, as far as she was concerned. Sure, she faced the challenges life gave her, and she almost always made it out the other side, but it wasn't because she was strong or brave. She faced those challenges because she had no other choice. Her parents were taken away from her before she was old enough to even grasp that tragedy of that scale was even possible. It took her childhood away. It forced her to work herself to the bone in sweltering heat each and every day just to keep the farm afloat, and even still, there were bills she could not pay. Years ago, when she was an element of harmony, life had even pitted her against demons and monsters with the strength to end civilizations.
She wanted precisely none of this. If she could wave a magic wand and do so, she'd go back in time. She'd find a way to keep her parents alive. They would take care of the farm along side her so that she didn't have to do it alone, and they'd raise Apple Bloom like they should have so that she didn't have to sacrifice her own childhood to do so in their absence. She'd make sure she never accepted that damn offer to provide snacks to the summer sun celebration, so that she never became an element of harmony and never had to fight those terrible evils that left her waking up in cold sweats, gasping for air even years later. Unfortunately for her, that magic wand didn't exist. Unicorns and alicorns could do many things with their magic, but to alter a ponies fate? To re-write the story of their lives? That was something they could not, or perhaps would not do.
The only alternative to being a cosmic punching bag, as far as Applejack knew, would be to punch her own ticket out of this life and in to the next. The thought crossed her mind on a regular basis. There was an old-timey sword Big Mac bought a while back, and he kept it on the mantle above the fireplace. A pack of timber-wolves and the armies of Tirek himself couldn't take Applejack down, but maybe... just maybe... That sword could. Or, better yet, maybe the next time a 60 foot tall abomination tried to destroy Equestria, she'd fight it like she would have in her younger years; Only this time, she'd let it win.
But of course, taking an early leave wasn't really an option and she knew that. The farm needed her, Apple Bloom needed her even now that she was getting older, and her friends would never forgive her for selfishly leaving them to grieve. She cared too much about her friends, her home, and her family. Thus, she was on this ride until it's natural conclusion. Anything that happened between now and then, she'd have to continue to face just like she always had. Except, facing each new day wasn't as easy as it had been in her youth. Like a forgotten apple at the bottom of the barrel, she became more bitter as time went on.
Applejack swirled the drink in it's bottle absentmindedly, before taking a few more large swigs. Her posture slumped against the beam as she swallowed them down and breathed a few heavy breaths. The flame of the lantern before her danced all around, and as the alcohol began to take effect, it's light became blurry in her vision. If it weren't for the ponies she loved sleeping soundly in the house just across the yard, she might kick it over and let that flame evolve in to a roaring fire which would claim her. Instead, she gulped down what remained in the bottle and tossed it carelessly in to a haystack at the opposite side of the barn. She immediately produced a second bottle from her saddlebag like clockwork, once again using her teeth to pull out the stopper. This time, though, she struggled a bit more as her motor skills had deteriorated significantly. Once it was open, she took another swig and turned to look at the jeweled sky out of that big barn door.
"I never pictured y'all as drinkers." She said softly to herself, tongue numb against her teeth as she spoke. "But I reckon... I didn't get much time with ya, so what do I know? Ya did name me after this stuff, after all. So ya must'a liked it some. I like it too." She paused, clasping the battle in both hooves and looking down with a hint of shame, as if the very stars were judging her. "Maybe a little too much."
A cold breeze blew through the doors and windows, bringing with it the scent of mud and autumn air. The scent of home. She breathed it in and allowed a torrent of memories to flood her mind. For once, the thoughts in her head weren't that of loss and pain. They were thoughts of cool fall days spent harvesting with her siblings. Of family reunions and cider seasons past. Thoughts that made her smile sadly through the tears that everypony else swore she never cried.
"Y'know?" She said, a noticeable rasp in her voice as her eyes fixated on distant stars. "I been a whole lotta places, seen a lotta the world... But there ain't no place I'd rather call home than this ol' orchard. You guys left somethin' special behind." She took another sip of her drink and pursed her lips. "I just wish... Y'all were here with me." By now, her voice quivered and shook as she forced herself to maintain some semblance of composure.
Her eyes drifted down from the heavens and centered on the second story window of the farmhouse. Apple Bloom's bedroom. She was old enough to have moved out, if she wanted. She had a chance to do what Applejack never could, and run far, far away. But she didn't. She stayed behind to help manage things around the farm, following in her big sister's example. Applejack couldn't quite decide if that was for the best or not. Sure, Applejack appreciated the help, but was this really the way it should be? Had she really sacrificed her childhood for her sister, only for her sister to sacrifice the best years of her life in turn?
"She, um... She's a real good kid." Applejack whispered. "I tried my best, tried to do things how y'all would've done 'em for her. Big Mac did too. We ain't no replacements for the real deal, but... We tried to be somethin' like parents to her. I think you'd be real proud of her. She works hard, and she's strong. Celestia, she's so damn strong. She's a regular role model. And that's good, 'cuz heaven knows I ain't."
Applejack took a few more sips, kissed her teeth and sighed. "I let ya down. I let m'self down. I always been... Well, I ain't ever been okay. But, I never thought I'd be the kind'a mare who drank her problems away like some kind'a fool. Never thought I'd be the kind'a pony that can't make it through a day without cryin'. Never thought... I never thought the pain could get quite so bad, y'know? And maybe a stronger pony than me could handle it. But I can't, and I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry." A few further tears welled up in her eyes. "Ya wanted me to grow up and be strong like you, that's one of the things I can remember. But, Big Mac and Bloom did a better job at that than me, I reckon."
Applejack finished off the second bottle, and by now, everything was numb except for her heart. That would continue to hurt no matter how much she drank. She tossed it in the same general direction as the first bottle, and curled up in something resembling the fetal position. Tears flowed freely in to a puddle where her cheek rested on the floor now, though she suppressed any audible sobs to prevent the possibility of anypony hearing her, should they be sleeping with the windows open. That was a talent she wished she hadn't needed to develop, but had certainly gotten good at over the years.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
It was, seemingly, another evening on the farm. The sun would soon be sinking beneath the trees and allowing the blue sky to shift in to a cotton-candy gradient before succumbing to nightfall. Granny Smith was preparing to sit down with her evening tea when sounds of carpentry startled her enough to nearly spill the whole cup. She felt silly for letting the sound alert her, as they'd been ringing out off and on throughout most of the day. Hammers striking nails with a boom, saws whining as they cut through oak. At that moment, Big Mac and Apple Bloom stepped in the door, retiring to the house after a long days work. Yet, the sounds persisted.
"What in the world are you young'ins doin' out there? Startin' a lumber yard?" Granny asked, settling in to her seat at the kitchen table.
"Eee... Nope." Replied the walking thesaurus that was Big Mac.
"I think Applejack's been workin' on somethin' or another" Answered Apple Bloom as she untied her mane and flipped it loose, sweat dripping down her forehead.
"In this heat?" Granny said with a look of utter confusion. "It's the hottest it's been in 100 moons, and that girly is out there workin' in to the night? How 'come she didn't come in with ya?"
"Well..." Apple Bloom lingered on the word, her eyes squinting in concern a bit. "I told'er it was time to head in, that we'd got plenty done for the day. But..." She hesitated again. "She just said to go on inside. It didn't sound like she'd planned on quittin' any time soon."
"That girl..." Granny Smith rolled her eyes and set her tea down in front of her. "She's gonna work herself to an early grave if she don't learn how to take a break." With that, she slowly clambered off of her old wooden chair and started towards the door. "There's more tea in the kettle if ya want it." She offered to her grandchildren before closing the door behind her.
A short trek across the yard towards the barn revealed the source of the sounds she'd been hearing all day. Applejack stood just outside the barn, a hammer in her mouth and a tool belt hung over her flanks. Granny looked up at Applejack and was upset at what she saw. Her mane was even messier than usual, her signature ponytail being replaced by loosely draped blonde locks filled with wood shavings, sweat, and grime. Her eyes were baggy and bore dark rings around them. Judging by the way she was breathing, she wasn't far from collapsing of exhaustion. Yet, she continued hammering away as if she didn't realize how spent she truly was.
"Dearie?" Granny's meek voice called out, causing Applejack to pause.
"Yeah, Granny?" Applejack answered with an uncharacteristically flat tone. Granny couldn't decide if it was due to how tired she was, or due to an utter disdain for having been interrupted.
"I'd reckon it's about time to go on in with yer brother and sister, no?" Granny suggested with a warm smile.
"I told 'em to eat dinner without me. I'm workin'." She said, no more emotion in her voice than before.
"Applejack, dear, you've been workin' in the sun all day. And besides, it'll be dark soon and ya can't work without daylight anyhow. Why don't ya come on in?"
"Because." Applejack's flat tone was replaced by unmistakable irritation. "I'm workin'. I'll be in when I'm in."
"But, dearie..."
"I ain't some little foal!" Applejack barked, interrupting her grandmother. "I ain't got a curfew, and I can work whenever I darn well please."
"I... I know, dear." Granny Smith's warm expression fell as she took a slight step backwards from her kin. "Well... What is it that's so important that it can't wait? What'cha workin' on?"
Applejack sighed and rolled her eyes. "Support beam in the barn looked like it needed replacin'. I noticed it the other night, felt like it was rotted straight through."
"I see..." Granny said with a hint of skepticism. "And, this?" She waved her hoof at the massive wooden object Applejack had been working on when she came out. "That don't look like no support beam to these ol' eyes."
"After I replaced the beam, I figured I'd finally replace the those annoyin' squeaky hinges on the doors. Been drivin' me crazy for months now. Then I figured, hey, new hinges may as well get new doors. So I'm buildin' new barn doors."
"But, the old ones were fine, dearie..." Granny Smith softly protested.
"The hay they were." Applejack argued. "The two by fours were startin' to warp and they looked like trash."
"They didn't look s'bad that it's worth killin' yerself workin' all day to replace 'em."
"Maybe I wanna work, Granny." Applejack's voice raised. "Maybe I don't wanna sit around and drink tea or eat supper."
"Have some good sense, girly. You're lookin' like yer about to keel over out here in this heat. "
"So what if I did..." Applejack grumbled.
Granny froze, staring at her granddaughter with surprise and concern written on her face. She'd never heard Applejack talk like that before, and couldn't fathom that she'd even say such a thing. Finally, after considering her next words carefully, she took a few steps closer.
"I may be old, but I ain't blind. And I certainly ain't dumb." She said, much less forcefully than her previous comments. "What I don't understand is why ya won't just talk about it."
"'Bout what?" Applejack asked, refusing to look at her grandmother and instead taking another swing of her hammer at a nail which wasn't entirely driven yet.
"I don't know." Granny answered honestly. "But somethin's eatin' at ya and ya refuse ta talk about it. Runnin' off ta drink yourself blind at night, burryin' yourself in work 'cause ya just can't stand to sit down with yer own thoughts. Yer hurtin', and I wish ya'd just let somepony help with whatever it is doin' the hurtin'."
Applejack dropped the hammer out of her mouth once again, and sat down against the side of the barn. Her loose, unkempt mane hung in front of her eyes.
"So, ya know I been comin' out here at night, huh?"
Granny nodded. "Kinda hard not ta notice when I go ta check on ya in yer room at night and ya ain't there. And when I find them bottles in the mornin' it ain't hard to figure out what you're doin'."
Applejack clenched her jaw and looked down at the dirt. "Well, I'm sorry Granny. Sorry for bein' a let down." Her voice shook just a little as she spoke.
"A let down?" Granny hobbled over and sat beside Applejack, wincing as her bad hip gave her fits on the way down. "Girly, ya ain't no let down. Yer the hardest workin' mare I ever knew. Ya do right by yer siblin's, and by me. How could ya say yer a let down?"
Applejack didn't reply. Granny might've been correct that she took care of her own, and that she was a hard worker, but praising her few good qualities and ignoring the ocean of bad qualities inside her broken soul felt disingenuous. It felt like a desperate attempt to convince her, and maybe even Granny herself, that everything was okay. That she was the pony everypony thought she was.
"C'mon, dearie." Granny urged. "What's gettin' ya so twisted up?"
"It ain't... It's everythin', Granny. And ain't none of it gonna go away just 'cause I told somepony about it."
"How do ya mean 'everything', Applejack?"
Applejack sighed, removing her Stetson and slouching further against the wall. She didn't want to have this conversation. Hell, she didn't know how to have this conversation. How do you explain to somepony that your entire life feels like a comedy of errors - like all that has been was strife, and all that will be is remorse? There was nothing that talking to anypony could do for her now. It would only spread her pain on to those she confided in, and that was the last thing she wanted.
"I just mean..." Applejack started, knowing Granny was going to keep going until she received some sort of answer. "I mean things ain't ever been easy. Not since I was born, and not 'til the day I die. These days, I just ain't as good at dealin' with it. That's all."
"We all got troubles, dear... And sometimes they get the best of us. We can't all be tough all the time, can we?" Granny placed a hoof on Applejack's shoulder.
Anger began to rise in Applejack. She knew that Granny meant well, so she restrained herself from snapping at her. Though, the accumulated rage of a lifetime's worth of trials and pain is a difficult thing to subdue. She spoke through gritted teeth.
"Granny... I was old enough to know my folks when they died, ta grieve them... but I was too young ta say I was able to spend enough time with 'em before they went. If I'd been a bit younger, I wouldn't remember 'em the same way Apple Bloom don't. I wouldn't be haunted by their memory. And if I were older, I could at least take comfort in the fact that they got ta see their youngin's grow up. But here I am, wishin' either one of those were true."
A tear began to form in Granny's eye, but she blinked and dispatched it as not to further upset her granddaughter.
"I miss 'em too, Applejack." Was all Granny managed to say without her voice breaking.
"But that ain't the only thing that keeps me up at night." Applejack said resentfully. "Tirek, Sombra, Chrysalis, the Storm King... I see their disgustin' faces every buckin' time I lay down at night." At this point, Applejack couldn't control the words pouring out of her mouth. She'd meant to give Granny a non-answer just good enough to satisfy her, but now she was truly pouring her heart out. "Mah friends... If we'd made one mistake, if a single one'uh them battles went any different... They could'a been hurt or... Or..." Applejack's breathing grew rapid and deep, eyes wide and manic as she got lost in flashbacks to the countless battles she'd been a part of.
"Hey, hey..." Granny patted her back and began rubbing her shoulder. "Yer friends made it out okay, and so did you. Ain't no use worryin' 'bout what could'a been."
"Yer right..." Applejack said, swiping a hoof across her cheeks, one after the other. "Ain't no point to it. But I can't turn it off. Even if I manage ta distract myself all day, I still gotta sleep. And the nightmares... Granny, I see what could've been every single night. I see my friends mutilated and dead... I see Apple Bloom losin' a mother figure for a second time." Despite her usual skill at sobbing quietly, these sobs were anything but. She was full-blown crying for the first time in front of another pony.
All Granny could do was pull Applejack in to a warm hug and rub her back. She knew that no words would erase the trauma, but she also knew in her heart that Applejack could one day heal - Even if she didn't think it was possible. It would take time, support, and maybe even some professional help, but one day Applejack would be better. Granny swore that to herself.