Applejack did not take days off. It was a simple fact, as simple and clear as the three red apples that adorned her flank; An undeniable truth, a part of her very being. Some days there were fewer tasks that needed doing than others, sure. Maybe her obsessive work ethic occasionally drove her to get far enough ahead of schedule that proceeding to the next step of a given process was actually impossible. There was always more to do, though; Some roof that needed reparing, some fence that needed mending, some extra pies that needed baking. Besides, she didn’t need too much free time in her life. She had become quite adept at finding time to put in a full day’s work and still see her friends, or go for a run, or whatever else it was she wanted to do. Yep, Applejack didn’t take days off. She didn’t need them.

It frustrated her to no end, then, that Granny Smith would have insisted just the opposite. She’d tried to argue. Tried to explain away her red, puffy eyes, or her quivering step, or her unusually shallow appetite. She’d done everything in her power to show that she was one hundred percent a-okay to get back to the daily grind.

And yet Granny Smith would have none of it. She’d said she was ‘worried’ about Applejack’s ‘well-being’. Something about ‘being under a lot of stress lately’ and ‘going through a hard time’ and ‘not wanting to see her burn herself out’--Ha! If I was gonna burn myself out, wouldn’ I be the first ta know it? Applejack frowned.

Also something about not wanting to see any more trees bent at 30 degree angles, which Applejack did have to admit was fair.

This, though, this was unfair, that’s what it was. Granny Smith even had the gall to suggest that Applejack--Applejack, the most dependable of ponies--seemed under the weather.

Well… Maybe that wasn’t so far fetched. She hadn’t slept well last night, and she was feeling a bit queasy and maybe a tad feverish. But what was Applejack supposed to do about that if she wasn’t allowed to help Big Mac out in the fields today? It was like Granny Smith didn’t understand her own granddaughter. She didn’t understand how she worked or operated; She didn’t understand that if she didn’t cut out all of this ‘relaxing’ and ‘rejuvenating’ nonsense, she wouldn’t having anything to distract her.

Not that she needed distraction. There was definitely no reason she needed to be anywhere other than alone with her thoughts today. If she was just allowed to go out to the field and drive her hooves into the bark of some trees, she’d be right as rain in no time.

Applejack banged her forehead onto her desk and left it there. Unfortunately, the Apple matriarch had left no two ways about it, and Applejack, even frustrated as she was, wasn’t about to backtalk her granny. She’d protested as much as she could, of course, but when it became clear that Granny Smith would hear none of it, she’d accepted her fate and solemnly slouched off to her room to ‘recuperate’.

Recuperate. Relax. Rejuvenate. Why did all these words have a ‘re’ in the front of them? That was stupid and inefficient. Applejack could lax, juvenate, and cuperate all at once out in the fields, she was pretty sure.

The fact that Big Mac had locked the cider cellar and taken the key with him out into the fields certainly didn’t improve her mood, either. Maybe she could climb out her window, buck the doors open and get back to her room with a keg before anypony noticed, but how was she then to explain the broken doors? Or the empty keg in her room? Maybe she could hide it in her closet… But then again, how was she supposed to get the keg through her second story window in the first place?

Even if it wasn’t meant to be, at least that short burst of brainstorming occupied her thoughts for a few minutes. It’d done a better job at that than trying to read that stupid book Rarity had given her, ’Bleat, Graze, Love’.

Well, Bleat and Graze weren’t that bad, actually, but Love was hogwash. She didn’t need to read that right now.

Applejack groaned. Maybe Granny Smith was right. Maybe she wasn’t doing herself any favors by pretending she was fine when apparently everypony in Equestria could tell she wasn’t. What would her friends do right now, if they were in her shoes?

Rainbow Dash would probably go flying, maybe break some things by “accidentally” crashing into them, but since Applejack had no wings, that didn’t seem like useful information, so she moved on.

Fluttershy would recommend some pet therapy, Applejack imagined, and by all rights that didn’t sound too bad. Playing with Winona probably would make her feel a bit better; Unconditional love had a way of doing that. Unfortunately, Winona was out in the fields with Big Mac, and Applejack wasn’t entirely sure she felt like going out there to find her. Besides, Granny Smith would probably tan her hide if she saw her trying to move in the cardinal direction of any apple trees whatsoever, so maybe she could save that for later when Big Mac came in for the evening. At least then she had something to look forward to. Moving on, then…

Twilight would tell her to make a list of pros and cons, or maybe write a letter to the Princess. While a pros and cons list seemed perhaps not the most applicable thing to this situation, and the Princess almost certainly didn’t need to hear about the jam she’d found herself in, maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to go ahead and write down how she was feeling. At least that way she didn’t have to tell anypony else, and they wouldn’t have to worry about her not being fit to work, because if one thing was sure, it was that there was no way she was going to get stuck on ‘recuperating’ duty two days in a row. Thankfully it was already almost 6'o'clock now, so she didn’t have that much longer to go.

Deciding to see what fruits this idea might bear, Applejack grabbed a pencil and a sheet of paper from her desk drawer and placed them in front of her, smoothing out some wrinkles from the paper and looking at it. She grabbed the pencil between her teeth and tapped her chin. Where should she begin, then?

She was just about to press the graphite down when she heard a knock on the door. “Applejack, ye got a visitor!” Granny Smith’s voice came through the door and startled her into dropping the pencil.

“Consarnit,” Applejack muttered as she hopped off her chair and bent down to grab her fallen writing implement. “Who is it?” she asked, not paying much attention.

“The bouncy pink one yer always goin’ on about.”

Applejack’s first reaction was to blush and shout “Granny!” in an embarrassed fashion, so she did. Her second reaction, though, was to feel a wave of anger and pain wash over her mind as the pencil fell out of her mouth again.

Wait… Pinkie’s here? Applejack felt her stomach turn and her mouth was suddenly dry. What was Pinkie doing here?  When it became clear the pencil had no intention of answering her question, she decided maybe she should ask something with vocal chords instead. “What’s she doin’ here?”

“Says she wants t’ talk to you ‘bout somethin’. Maybe she heard ya’ll weren’t feelin’ so well?” Granny’s voice came from the other side of the door, far too happily for Applejack’s liking.

Oh, NOW she wants to talk? Applejack frowned hard, picking up the pencil and placing it on her desk. “Tell her I’m sleepin’. I ain’t in the mood for no visitors.”

“Come now Applejack, where’s yer sense of hospitality?” the elder mare’s voice scolded. Applejack was about to make a retort of some kind when she heard her door creak open and turned to look. “Besides, it’s too late fer that, I already let her in!”

Applejack willed her eyes not to widen, but they did anyway. There in the doorway stood Granny Smith, and behind her, Pinkie Pie, who took a step forward and smiled a small, apologetic looking smile.

Suddenly, climbing out the window didn’t seem like such a bad idea after all. “You kids have fun now,” Granny Smith grinned as she backed out of the doorway and slowly began walking down the hall.

The two ponies stared at each other in silence for what felt like several long minutes as they listened to Granny Smith’s hooves slowly descend the stairs, Pinkie wearing her small, hesitant smile and Applejack trading in her wide eyed shock for a furrowed brow and determined frown.

Finally Pinkie cleared her throat. “So… You talk about me a lot, huh?” She said in a teasing sort of way that Applejack would have none of.

Now, if there was one thing that Applejack was good at… Well, to be honest, it was Apple Bucking. But if there were two things she was good at, the second was definitely looking in the opposite direction from that of a pony whom she was upset with.

Thank Celestia then that she was good at two things, as she wasted no more time in turning her back on the pink mare and planting her hindquarters on the floor. “Why’re you here? What d’you want?”

As she waited for a response, Applejack noticed just how still the air felt. She wished her window was open, as a breeze would certainly be nice right about now. As it was the air hung still like… Like… Like some apples on a tree waiting to be bucked? Whatever, Applejack wasn’t feeling terribly creative at the moment.

Even without looking at Pinkie’s face, Applejack could hear the hurt in her voice. “I thought maybe we could talk now.”

Applejack snorted. “Ha. Hah hah hah! Oh, that’s rich, ain’t it?” Maybe Applejack was only good at one thing after all, as she immediately rounded on Pinkie, laughing as hard as she could manage. “You want to talk now. Wait, wait, don’t tell me. Where’s Rainbow? She gonna pop in my bedroom any moment and you two’s gonna have a nice laugh about it? Well, sorry to disappoint, sugarcube,” she laced the word with venom, “but I reckon I ain’t got much t’say t’you no more, so y’all can just be on your way then.” Applejack finished with a very satisfied ‘Harumph!’ and turned around once more.

Much to her chagrin, though, there was no sound of hoofsteps retreating. Applejack hoped that maybe Pinkie had finally consumed enough sugar that she’d developed the inexplicable ability to hover, but the familiar high voice confirmed that she was still standing in her doorway. “I’m sorry, Applejack,” she said, sounding like she really meant it.

No, apologies weren’t allowed. Apologies would mean Applejack would have to accept them, and then stop being angry, but being angry felt so good. “Oh, you’re sorry now, are ya? Great, I am too. Say, wouldn’tcha know it, I was just cleanin’ up my room here,” Applejack paused to grab her pencil off the desk and toss it over to land at Pinkie’s hooves, “wanna help? You can take that pencil downstairs for me, and when you get back we can talk.” She punctuated this with the angriest glare she could contort her face into.

Pinkie Pie shrunk back as her eyes looked for something to find purchase on. Clearly Applejack’s reference hit home. Good. Wasn’t that good? It was what she wanted when she’d said it, after all. For some reason, though, it just made her feel guilty.

“I’m really, super sorry. I just didn’t want to hurt you, but I messed up bad, and I guess I hurt you anyway…” Pinkie trailed off, her eyes having finally settled on her hooves, with which she had picked up the pencil to idly roll between them. “I wasn’t thinking-”

“There’s a surprise.” Applejack cut her off, but Pinkie pressed on, undeterred by the insult.

“-about how you were feeling, or how selfish I was being…” Pinkie paused, a pained, muffled sound escaping her lips.

Silence retook the room. Applejack stared down at her own hooves, and she began to think about her imaginary Twilight’s advice again. Maybe pros and cons were more applicable to her present situation than she’d thought. Here Pinkie was trying to apologize, and Applejack was just throwing it back in her face. Even if she was getting the pro of having her anger satisfied, the con of hurting her friend in the process was much larger.

“But if you really want me to go, I will.” Pinkie muttered, putting the pencil back down. “I didn’t really think you’d want to see me right now, anyway,” she said, turning away from the door and beginning to move down the hallway.

Applejack grimaced, cursing her own good nature for ruining what should have been a great moment of angry sulking for her. She quickly followed Pinkie out to the hallway and called to her before she got to the stairs. “Wait.”

Pinkie stopped, but didn’t turn around. Applejack pressed on. “I’m sorry too. Really. That wasn't right of me, those things I just said,” she sighed, “I’ve just been so confused these last couple’a days. Y’all can understand that, can’tcha? You didn’t give me nothin’ to hold on to.”

“I know,” Pinkie said softly from her position at the stairs, sitting down.

Applejack closed the rest of the distance, sitting down next to her friend. The two sat for a moment, each trying to think of what to say next until Applejack spoke up. “And I’m sorry I broke your door, too. But I don’t really wanna go on bein’ mad in the long run, so… Let’s just put this whole mess behind us. Whaddaya say,” Applejack turned to look into Pinkie’s eyes, extended a hoof and put on the best smile her jumbled mood could manage “... Friends?”

To her surprise, though, no sapphire eyes met her, instead averting their gaze to the bottom of the stairs. Applejack weathered the silence, her mind running amok with possible reasons for Pinkie’s ambivalence. Had Applejack been so mean just then that she didn’t want to be friends any more? Did that door have some sentimental value Applejack didn't know about? She pinned her ears back and put her hoof down. “What’s wrong, sugarcube?” She managed to eke out, but not by much.

Pinkie took a deep breath, still staring down to the bottom of the stairs. “I just don’t understand,” she said softly.

Applejack shut her eyes tight before attempting the friendliest posture she could muster. “You don’t understand what, sugarcube?”

Again there was silence, though it was shorter this time. “I don’t understand why you love me.”

Applejack felt her eyebrows raise in surprise at that. “What?” She asked, her voice undermining her with a crack.

Pinkie shook her head. “It doesn’t really make any sense. I mean, you’re Applejack; You’re always so tough, and serious. I don’t mean you can’t have fun, but… we’re so different. And I know I annoy you. I don’t try to, but sometimes I just can’t help myself; I get excited about some little thing, and the next thing I know you’re grinding your teeth, or you’re begging the others to get you away from me, like in Dodge Junction...”

“I’m sorry Pinks, it was kind of a bad day…” Applejack winced at how lame she sounded, though to be fair to herself, it was true.

“... And I don’t know the first thing about apple farming. It’s way harder than rock farming, and I ran away from that.”

Applejack chewed on her tongue as she thought about what Pinkie said. She knew why she loved Pinkie. Of course she did. She’d simply never put it into words before. “... I love you because…” The problem was that the words weren’t readily available to her. As she thought about it, Pinkie gave her a sad smile and shook her head.

“That’s why I… Why I did what I did,” Pinkie said softly. “It’s not that I don’t love you, or that I don’t think we’d have a super fun time, but eventually you’d get sick of me, and we’d break up and we might not even be friends anymore, and… And I don’t want that to happen.”

Applejack felt her entire chest seize up as she listened to her friend’s explanation. “That’s crazy talk, Pinks. I mean, even if it didn’t work out, we’d–”

“It’s easy to say that now,” Pinkie interrupted, “but what if we wouldn’t? It happens all the time, Applejack. Ponies fall in love, and then they… They stop loving each other, completely. And I don’t want that to be us.”

“But it doesn’t happen every time,” Applejack countered with as level a voice as she could manage. “I mean, what about Mr. and Mrs. Cake? They haven’t stopped loving each other, right?”

Pinkie was silent for a moment and Applejack could hear every thud of her heartbeat in her head.

“I’m scared, Applejack,” Pinkie finally said.

“What?” Applejack asked before she could stop herself. The idea of Pinkie being afraid of anything was so bizarre that she couldn’t believe she’d heard her right.

“I’m scared,” Pinkie repeated, and Applejack saw a tear rolling down her cheek. “If I say yes, and we fall in love, and things don’t turn out like you want them to… I’m scared you’ll hate me.”

“But…” Applejack worked her jaw as she tried to coax any sort of counter argument out of her mouth. “... But Pinks, I’d never hate you. I–”

“I’m sorry Applejack, but I can’t take that chance,” Pinkie said shakily.

Applejack could barely even breathe. “What are you sayin’?”

“I’m…” Pinkie made eye contact for the briefest of moments before standing and looking back down the stairs. “I’m saying no,” she said, and took a step.

Applejack watched Pinkie descend in silence. Of all the things she could have expected to hear for an explanation, this had never even entered her mind as a possibility.

“I hope you can forgive me,” Pinkie said from the landing without turning her head, and then walked out the door, leaving a trail of tears across the living room.

Applejack sat in her spot at the top of the stairs and pulled her hat down to cover her eyes. She didn’t need to see anything right now, and the dark was comforting.

“Howdy, Applejack. Yer little friend gone?” Granny’s voice asked from somewhere below her.

“Yeah,” Applejack responded plainly as she got up and turned down the hallway. “I’ll be in my room,” she said, and disappeared from Granny’s view.