Big MacIntosh was exactly where she guessed he'd be: pitching whatever rocks he could find into the river. He'd never been able to make them skip, but for some reason the back-and-forth of picking up and throwing calmed him down. Judging by the small island he'd made in the centre of the stream, he'd really needed the time to himself.

"Hey!" Applejack shouted. "Get yer butt back in the house!"

His ears twitched at the sound of her voice, and he picked up a boulder about the size of Applejack herself and sent it crashing into the water. She just rolled her eyes. Yeah, yeah, I know how strong you are. Don't think that's gonna intimidate me. "Didja go deaf or somethin'? I said move it!"

Pitch. Splash.

"C'mon! Granny says she wants t'show us somethin', so quit playin' with yer pebbles!"

Well, he might be ignoring her, but he couldn't deny a request from the family matriarch. He made a point of not making eye contact with his sister as he passed her side.

"Took ya long enough," she said as she trotted alongside him. "So, she got Flim t'pull an old dusty box outta the attic. What d'you think she wants to show us?"

She had expected at least a shrug---not an icy glare.

"What? Why ya lookin' at me like that?"

It took her a few seconds before she clued in. "Oh. Oh, I get it! I see what this is. Yer still so mad at me y'ain't gonna talk to me! Is that it?"

This time she didn't give him a chance to answer. "That's real mature, Big MacIntosh. What are ya, five? Y'think the silent treatment's gonna work on me? Well, I got news fer you---two can play that kinda game!"

She wasn't quite sure why he was rolling his eyes, but didn't let that stop her. "Yeah, I'm gonna give it right back to ya! See how ya like that! Sure, you'll be fine fer a few days, but before long you'll be cryin' at my hooves, sayin' 'Please, Applejack, I can't take it! Ya gotta say somethin' t'me!' An' I'll jes' laugh! I got plenty of other ponies I can talk to besides you. I'll beat you at yer own game, and you know it! I---"

"Oh shut up!"

"Ha!" She gave him a little cuff upside the head. "Got you to talk."

"Are you two foals done squabbling yet, or do I need to send you to a time out?"

That made them both jump, and Applejack's smug smile drained off her face. She was really going to have to talk to Flim about his eavesdropping habit.

"Come on," he said as he swept the dust off his elbows. "You're going to miss Show and Tell."

"Did Granny tell ya what this was all about?"

He shook his head. "Not a word. She just said she wanted all of us to see---well, no, not all of us," he corrected himself. "She told Apple Bloom to stay in her room until this was over."

He caught the look the siblings shared, and was relieved to find out he wasn't the only one who was confused. Granny didn't strike him as the type to keep secrets, and for the life of him he couldn't guess what she could be keeping in her attic that would be inappropriate to show a child.

"Well, uh, we shouldn't keep her waiting," Applejack said finally. "The sooner this is over, the sooner we can all get on with our days."

"It's probably just an old photo album," he said as he followed her into the living room. He was glad Big MacIntosh was behind him, because he knew the big lug wouldn't be happy if he saw where his eyes were.

"Nah, she wouldn't keep one in the attic." She must have sensed those eyes on her ass---her tail snapped back at him, smacking his foreleg just hard enough to send a warning. His gaze was front and centre again as they took their places in a semi-circle around Granny, who had pried the tape loose and was already shoulder-deep in the box. Scrawled on the side facing her audience was Clothes - donate?

"Hm, now where is it?" her voice echoed from inside as she shuffled its contents around. A moth-eaten sweater flew over her shoulder. "Don't know why I'm even keepin' that. Sentimental value, I 'spose. Dangit!" This time what looked like a uniform from a long-forgotten war came sailing out. "He told me he'd sent that to a museum, the old fool..."

Applejack cleared her throat. "Uh, Granny? Y'need some help?"

"No no, I jes' found it. Here we go!"

She popped back out of the box, unfurling something white and lacy in front of her with a happy flourish. It landed at her granddaughter's hooves, and she immediately took a shaky step back, kicking the frilly hemline away like a parasprite.

"Granny. No."

Big MacIntosh looked from the dress, to Applejack's startled face, back to the dress, and then at his grandmother. For the first time in almost a week, his mouth pulled up in a half-smile. "Well... I'll... be... damned."

Granny was beaming. "What's the holdup, darlin'? Put the darn thing on already!"

"What're ya tryin' to do, gimme a heart attack?" she said shrilly. "I ain't tryin' on yer old weddin' dress!"

"Aw, g'wan! It won't hurtcha!"

She spared a side glance at her brother. "Don't tell me yer wantin' me t'get married, too!"

"Put it on."

"Granny---"

"Young'un, don't think I won't wallop you!"

"Fine! Fine." She knew it was a hollow threat, but this unpleasant turn of events had made her unwilling to call Granny's bluff---the dress had been enough of a shock, and she had no idea what else she'd throw at them. With a laboured sigh, Applejack nosed her muzzle under the hem and shuffled it over her head. She eased both lacy sleeves over her forelegs and popped her head out, trying not to crinkle her snout at the musty attic-smell. "There. Happy?"

"Very!" Granny smiled ear-to-ear. "Why, you look jes' radiant."

"Aw, quit it," she mumbled, shuffling around. Looking over her shoulder, she spotted a long row of tiny buttons polished to look like pearls. "Flim, can y'help me get this done up?"

He didn't answer.

After a few seconds, she turned to make sure he hadn't fainted. He looked damned near close, though, his face completely white and his mouth moving around slowly.

"Uh, Flim?" she said, gently prodding his shoulder. "I could use some magic right about now."

"...Huh?"

She nodded her head towards her back. "Buttons. Lil' help?"

A faint green crackle crept up his horn, but it sputtered out quickly enough to make it seem involuntary.

"Hey, Flim, you okay?"

What a stupid question. His eyes were wide, and his pupils had nearly disappeared. When he put a shaky hoof to his throat, Applejack let out a gasp---she'd seen a glob of spittle shoot from his lips, and another was frothing at the corner of his mouth. He was panting, using only the shallowest part of his lungs, his breathing quickly turning to hyperventilation.

"Flim!" she said, trying to shake him out of it. The motion nearly toppled him over, and if it wasn't for Mac's foreleg shooting out in front of him, he probably would have planted his face into the carpet.

"I can't---" he stammered, "I c-can't---"

It turned into a grunt when his lips spasmed back in a grimace, and again Mac had to keep him from tottering over. The hardened expression he'd been wearing all morning had melted, if only a little.

Applejack pressed the frog of her hoof against his neck, and was shocked to feel his jugular slamming back up against it. "What---? Mac, what's going on?!"

"I'm fine!" Flim snapped as he swatted the hooves away. "...I...I'm fine," he repeated, a little quieter, when he saw an actual look of concern on Big MacIntosh's face. "I..."

Applejack took a step towards them. She'd seen that look, too. "Hey...?"

After a few deep, sucking breaths, Flim put a hoof to his forehead and swept the loose strands of his mane back in place. He hoped they couldn't see how sweaty he was. "I'm not having a pani..."

Like a steel trap, his jaw snapped down on that sentence. He wasn't looking, but he could sense the glance brother and sister had exchanged over his back. He quickly straightened his neck and cleared the traces of mucous from his throat. "I'm fine," he said, the colour returning to his face. "Perfectly fine. Not panicking. Calm down, you two."

She tried her best, sitting back down on her haunches as he finally got around to doing up the buttons. Wow. If that had been an aborted panic attack, she was damn sure she didn't want to see a real one.

"Well, shoot," Granny said. "I didn't mean t'rustle yer jimmies like that!"

"Then what's with the dress?!"

"What Apple Bloom said back there got me thinkin'," she answered with a little sigh. "Marriage... sometimes, it really ain't about love at all."

Applejack and Flim's eyes met, but before either of them could speak, she went on: "I don't know if y'know this, Applejack, but me an' yer grandaddy weren't in love when we got hitched."

Well, that was news! "G-granny?" she stammered.

"Oh, sure, we cared fer each other, but there weren't nothin' much under that," she said, and then turned away from the younger generation. "At th'end of the day, we could jes' wring each other's necks. Y'know what that old coot did t'me once?" Now she turned back, and to everypony's surprise, she was scowling. "I called him a jackass, an' he went an' threw a pot a' boilin' water at my head!"

When that didn't get a vocal response, she began pawing at the uniform on the floor. "Good thing I was still young enough t'dodge it. I told him flat-out that if he ever did that again, he'd be eatin' his own stallionhood fer breakfast! An' he never did raise a hoof t'me again... stupid ol' git."

Applejack tried not to smirk when both stallions next to her flinched a little.

"Then one New Year's Eve, he went up to have a nap, an'... Celestia knows, when he came back down it was in a pine box. Had hisself a blasted... what was it called again? Aneurism," she corrected herself before anypony could offer a suggestion. "Died in an instant. An', Celestia help me, the first thing I thought was 'Now I'm free a'him'. I did! An' I ain't ashamed! I stared down at his coolin' body, an' I thought 'Now that bastard's outta my life forever'."

Out of the corner of his eye, Flim could see Big MacIntosh's ears flicking around in distressed little circles. Apparently this wasn't a side of Granny he was used to seeing.

"Okay," Applejack said cautiously, "Uh... What're ya gettin' at, Granny?"

"Aw, nothin', honey," she said with a wave of her hoof. "I jes' wanted y'all t'hear that story, is all."

She swallowed heavily. Sure, she'd known that he had died in his sleep---in the very bed Flim was supposed to be using, no less---but this had added a whole new layer to it. Now it made sense why her Pa only re-told Grandaddy's old war stories instead of speaking about the stallion himself.

The lace on the collar was beginning to make her neck itch. "Can... can I take this off now?"

"Pfft! Sure. Don't want'cha t'get it all sweaty or anything."

Flim put a hoof to her back. "To be honest, I'm surprised it fits."

Applejack looked down at the billowy skirt, and... then it hit her, too. The side seams were so wide that the way she way she was sitting, it was almost hard to tell she was carrying a foal. She lifted a hindleg a little, feeling a flutter in her distended belly. "Granny, this thing is huge! Y'could fit four ponies in here!"

"Two, t'be exact."

She had opened her mouth to say something, but a swift kick to her diaphragm made it choke up in her throat.

When their eyes met, she saw an expression on Granny's face she'd never seen before. She looked almost... chagrined, and yet a little proud at the same time. "I, uh, I bought it way too soon. We got married right quick, y'know." Then she actually blushed. "I had to let it out a few months before we got hitched."

"W-what?"

"Did..." Flim's voice was nearly as tight as hers felt. "Did you used to be chubby, or...?"

"Nope. But I, uh... I sure gained a lotta weight." She winked. "In the, uh, few months before the wedding."

Applejack wasn't sure if the whimper from beside her came from her suitor or her brother. It didn't matter. She was already desperately trying to gulp down the hot swell in her throat that signalled the beginning of tears.

"So, sometimes marriage ain't about love," Granny said as she moved to her granddaughter's side. "Sometimes it's about lyin' to the seamstress and hopin' nopony will notice an' prayin' it'll all work out alright, 'cause prayin's jes' about all y'can do." She sighed, gathering the skirts up. "An' then y'get a pot a' boilin' water thrown at yer head."

Flim coughed. "I, er, I would never do that, you know."

Granny shook her head as she pressed the crumpled hem between her hooves. "I ain't sayin' you would. I'm jes' sayin'... oh, I don't know what I'm sayin'."

She whipped the dress over Applejack's head, inadvertantly popping a few of the buttons on the way. Her eyes were focused somewhere else, fluttering a bit as she scrolled over her memories, but they snapped back into focus when she remembered what she'd been meaning to say all along.

"Listen up, young'uns, 'cause I'm only gonna say this once." She pointed in turn at Applejack, then at Flim, and finally to Big MacIntosh, who seemed to get a slightly longer stare than the other two. "I want all three a'yes' to think about what I told ya real, real hard."

She'd begun to fold the dress back up when a quiet sob made her stop.

"Oh, Applejack!" she said, tossing the dress aside and wrapping both forelegs around her shoulders. "Hush, now. Ain't no need t'make a fuss! Everything worked out alright!"

All she could do was press her cheek against Granny's shoulder and shake as the sobs wracked her body. "I---I---I didn't... Oh, Granny, I had no idea---"

She laughed, mirthlessly. "A'course y'didn't! Celestia knows it ain't somethin' I'd trumpet about."

"I'm sorry, Granny. Truly I am. I'm so sorry...."

"Shh, shh. Let bygones be bygones, child."

After a few tense minutes of watching Applejack cry and listening to Granny's quiet shushes, Flim began to take an awkward step towards them. His hoof hadn't even touched the ground when another landed on his shoulder, and when he looked back at Big MacIntosh, he just shook his head 'no'.

As if she'd sensed the movement, Granny brought up a free hoof and waved it in their direction. "Can one a'yes' be a dear an' get that all folded up?"

That at least made Applejack chortle. "Flim, you do it. Big Mac can barely fold a towel in half."

"Ain't that a fact!" Granny added as she turned to Flim. "I asked him t'fold the bedsheets. Once. I still have no idea how he got all four legs tied up."

He grinned, but decided to supress the bondage joke that had popped into his head. "I feel bad for his future wife. She's going to get stuck doing the laundry."

Now Applejack was flat-out laughing. "An' changin' the diapers! The first time he tried cleanin' me up, well, that ended with a hospital visit."

"Wait, what?!" He glanced over at Big MacIntosh, who had cracked a sheepish smile. "He hurt you when you were a foal? How is that funny?!"

"Me? Nah. I was fine. But he had t'have a safety pin taken outta his ear."

"Oh." The thought of a much-younger Mac screaming and covered in baby powder brought a smile to his face. "Okay, that is kind of funny."

"Alright, alright, that's enough pickin' on him fer one mornin'," Granny said, finally pulling away from the hug. "C'mon, get that put away. We all got work that needs doin'."

Applejack watched as Flim began folding the dress; as pretty as it was, even she knew that it was hopelessly out of style. "Uh, Granny? Didja really want me t'wear that? I mean, uh, I think Rarity really had her heart set on makin' me a new one."

"Well." She patted her on the cheek, just like she used to when her mane was in pigtails. "Yer a grown mare. Trust me when I say that everything about yer weddin' day should be up to you."

That made Flim's head jerk up just in time to see Big MacIntosh's lips get thin. Whoa! Atta girl!

He'd nearly finished folding the box flaps back together when a sudden look went across his face, and he pulled one of the sleeves back out, examining it carefully. "I.... I bet you were a beautiful bride," he said slowly.

"Why, thank you!"

Applejack raised an eyebrow. What's he gettin' at?

"And this is a lovely dress, but..." He pushed the sleeve back down. "Look, I'm just going to say what everypony's thinking."

Granny turned a little. "Oh?"

She did not like the look on his face one bit. "Did you really have the reputation to wear white?"

She paused for a moment. At first he thought she was bringing a hoof up to her mouth to tap at her chin as she pondered the answer.

He didn't see the punch coming until he was flat on his back.

Applejack screamed. "GRANNY!"

"Aw, yiss!" she crowed as she nursed her sore hoof. "Been wantin' t'do that since you called me a chicken, you little punk! How's that feel, huh? Could a chicken do that?"

Applejack was already huddled over him, gently slapping the uninjured side of his face. "Granny, he's out cold!"

"Well, damn," she said, genuinely surprised. "Didn't know my own strength!"

"Are you okay?" she said, pressing the bag of peas as tenderly as she could against his eye.

"Am I okay?" Flim snipped as he snatched the bag from her hoof. "Am I okay? Honestly? She asks me if I'm okay. Well, let's summarize the day so far, shall we? First, I get shoved under a bed, nearly chip my horn on a spring, get my life threatened by some---some---ten-ton lumbering genetic anomaly, have what felt like a gallon of may-I-say very foul-tasting piss dumped on me, get screamed at by every member of this family, lose about ten years of my life thanks to that stunt Granny pulled with the dress---"

"Flim..."

He tried waving his hooves in the air, and dropped the bag in the process. That didn't stop him ranting, even though he hissed in pain as he brought the cold plastic back to his face. "And then, oh! And then! The cherry on the fucking sundae! I get knocked out by an old lady! So, no, Applejack, I am NOT FUCKING OKAY!"

She sighed and patted his head. "Calm down. Yer gonna give yerself a stroke."

"A stroke would be an improvement at this point!"

"Shh." She carefully reached around his head and stroked the parts of his mane that had ruffled up along his neck. "Hush."

"Stop it. I'm a grown stallion."

"Well right now yer actin' like a cranky lil' foal." Grinning a little, she hiked her front legs onto the couch and leaned against his side. "C'mon, now. Tell Mama where it hurts."

He scoffed and tried to turn away, but she'd caught his blush. "Knock it off, Applejack. That's really creepy."

"If y'don't tell me where it hurts, I can't make it better."

"How are you going to make it better? Invent a time machine?"

"Jes' tell me where it hurts," she cooed.

"Oh for the love of... Fine! There!" he snapped, pulling the peas away. "There! The shiner that I'll be sporting for the next month! That's where it hurts!"

"Poor baby." She leaned in, making sure to brush her cheek against his, and placed a gentle kiss on the least-puffy part of the bruise. When she pulled back, she smirked a little at the way he was staring at her. "There. All better?"

The look of surprise quickly turned into a smirk of his own. "...I pulled my groin, too."

To his relief, she laughed. "Y'couldn't resist, couldja?"

"Not when you set me up like that, no. Now, come on," he added as he moved to shuffle off the couch, "We're probably late. You---"

"Now hold on, there, sugarcube," she chided, holding an arm up to block him. "Y'sure y'don't need t'see a doctor?"

"Well, that depends." With a twinge of pain, Flim pressed his hooptip against his lower lid and pulled it down as far as the swelling would allow. "Is there any blood in my eyeball?"

Applejack took his chin in her hoof and tilted his head back and forth; as far as she could see, the sclera itself was still clear. "Nope."

"Are my pupils the same size?"

"Uh-huh."

"Then I should be fine. As long as I don't start acting stra.... wait a minute." He pulled himself into a sitting position and looked back at the pillow he'd been propped up on. "How did I get on the couch?"

"Well, you got Big MacIntosh to thank fer that," she answered, offering a hoof to help him down. "An' he ain't gonna let you forget it, either. He nearly dropped you a couple a'times, on account'a how much he was laughin'."

Flim grit his teeth as he reluctantly accepted the proferred hoof. "Oh, great. I get emasculated in front of him again."

When he got back to his hooves, Applejack brushed up beside him, pressing the side of her belly against his ribs. "Don't you worry about that. This here foal's proof enough that yer all stallion. Besides," she said, making sure to nuzzle away from his injured eye, "He might not like you much, but he ain't gonna judge. Y'don't have to win fights t'prove yer masculinity, y'know."

"Ha! Easy for you to say. You're a mare."

She pulled back, frowning. "Eeyup. A mare who doesn't know a stick of mascara from an eyeliner pencil. A mare who'd rather give Discord a hoofjob than wear pantyhose! Y'know how many times I been called a fillyfooler, huh?"

A quick spasm of emotion went across his face, and at first she thought it was anger---but it was too raw for that. It looked more like he'd been kicked in the gut. "And that's the worst possible thing to be called, is it?"

"No! It ain't a bad thing t'be called, but it ain't true!"

Neither of them noticed the couch cushions shift.

"At least those rumours stopped. I---ergh." Applejack gingerly lifted one of her hindlegs; she could swear she felt her liver move as something tiny and blunt pressed up against the walls of her womb. How do other mares ever get used to this? "An' I got you to thank fer that. Now they jes' call me a slut."

The sneer that was forming dissolved. "I---what? Really?"

"Yeah, really."

"Why would they call you that?"

"Oh, gee, I dunno. Maybe because I went an' threw myself at some pony I barely know an' now I'm an unwed mother!"

Before he could answer her leg jerked up again, and she turned her anger towards her midsection. "Agh! Dammit! Wouldja stop movin'? That was my bladder!"

"Applejack," Flim said gently, "You... you told me yourself you've slept with two ponies in five-odd years. That's hardly a slut. That's practically a nun."

"Y'know what? You come back an' tell me that after you get knocked up by some travellin' salespony! Oh, wait! That ain't gonna happen, 'cause you, Mister Flim, are a fucking stallion! You ain't ever gonna know what this is like! Besides, even if everypony knew about all the lovers in yer past, you'd never, ever get called what I get called! You get t'be the stud, an' I get t'be the slut! That's how it works!"

He took a step backwards, and it wasn't until the warm spot on her nose disappeared that she realized she'd been muzzle-to-muzzle with him.

"You're right."

That caught her off-guard. "Huh?"

"You're right. This is my fault."

She watched as he magicked one of the cushions back into place. She hadn't even heard it fall. "I sent you the drink. I got you to dance. I took you back to my room, and, er, well... I forgot to pull out." When he looked back at her, he was blushing. "I'm sorry, but... I couldn't help it. I was drunk, and... it... felt so good to be inside you. I didn't want to let go."

She opened her mouth to say something, but he quickly pressed a hoof against her lips. "It had been so long since I'd had a mare in my arms, let alone one as beautiful as you. I guess it's just a rotten trick of nature that you had to carry around the mistake instead of me, sweetheart." The hoof lowered a bit, but he let it linger on her lower lip. "Or do you not want me to call you that anymore?"

Bringing her own hoof up to touch his, Applejack murmured "Flim, you called me that when you were makin' love t'me." You whispered it in my ear. You said it when you came. "I jes' thought you'd keep it between the two of us. I'm real sorry. I shouldn't'a blown up like that."

"I didn't know you'd be so sensitive about it."

"Sensitive. Heh. 'Hormonal's a better word." She kissed his cheek. "Y'know what? I.... I really had a great time last night, sugarcube. I didn't know you could be such a gentle lover."

The foreleg pressing against her own slid up, and he pulled her into a hug. "Oh, Celestia, Applejack. What are we doing? Your sister was right. We don't even know each other."

"Well, like I said, it's a twenty-minute walk into town," she replied. "That'll give us some time for a Q an' A, dontcha think?"

The hug ended, and he idly poked at his shiner. "Are you sure you want to do that? I... have a past."

"Hey, buck up! Granny always told me 'Every saint has a past, an' every sinner has a future'."

Given what she'd divulged to them a few minutes ago, that seemed like quite an appropriate thing for her to believe in. "She's a wise mare, I'll grant her that."

"She sure is. An' if tryin' on that dress has taught me anythin', it's that everypony has some skeletons in their closet."

He chuckled, but she was already heading out the door, and hadn't seen him go red again. "It's funny you should mention a closet..."

"An' y'know what?" she called back at him. "I don't think I care if you've been with a hundred other mares!"

"The number's significantly lower than that. But I was---"

"Besides, what's the worst you could tell me? Heh, that you been grabbin' yer ankles fer a bunch'a stallions? Not likely!"

She paused at the front door, motioning outside with her head. Why he was frozen in place was beyond her, but they were late already, and she needed him to move. "C'mon, sugarcube. The cart's right out there. I'll help getcha hooked up."

"Amazing, Applejack," he said thinly. "I'm learning a lot about you already."

She moved in for a kiss as he passed the doorway, but missed. Had he dodged? "Oh yeah? Like what?"

"That brutal honesty and naivete aren't the best combination."

That had come out a bit harsher than he'd intended, but she didn't seem too perturbed. "Is bein' a well-travelled liar any better?"

"I'll tell you what," he said as he tried the harness on. It wobbled on his thin shoulders, but it stayed more or less in place. "For the next twenty minutes, we'll ask each other whatever we want, and I promise I won't lie to you."

But that doesn't have to mean you get the whole truth.

Author's Notes:

This was originally going to be two different chapters, but I felt bad for how long I'd taken, so I merged them.