Perhaps Death

by WritingSpirit

—Silver Linings Softly Spoken

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"Hey Doc."

The bumbling farmer of High Horn Gulch stood outside my jail cell.

Should I be relieved? I don't know if I should be. I think I could if I tried, but I never managed to. I mean, think about it. Think long and hard and smart— can't stress that last one enough! Think smart! Always think smart! Already, in the mere seconds of realizing that he was there, I have a thousand questions running through my head. Well, okay, not really, maybe like five or six, but that's not the point! The point is that Caramel was the pony standing beyond those iron bars when he has no good reason to be! Not one at all!

Anyone would be suspicious.

"Caramel," I responded, carefully mulling over my words as I pored over him from mane to hoof. Pretty sure the pony standing before me isn't Caramel, or a pony even! I'd say it's a Plasmavore— no, a Zygon! Yes, that must be it! Zygon, hundred percent it! "How've you been?"

"Good— I mean! Uh... yeah, uhm... just good," he said, nodding profusely. "A–And you?"

Did he just—

Okay.

Okay, okay, okay, okay, ignore everything I just said.

No alien impersonator would ever ask a question that's somehow equal parts boring and bizarre.

Caramel began to chuckle sheepishly before I could muster my response. "Sorry. Probably not the best question, now that I think about it." He surveyed my cell, paying close attention to my unfinished gossamer bungalows in particular. "I'm guessing they don't really want you doing much down here, huh?"

"Well, I don't think they would even want to imagine it. Speaking of which" — I stood up and traipsed towards him — "there's quite a bit of things I imagine might be happening right now and... well, seeing as you're here for reasons I don't really care about, I thought you might be keen on, I don't know, leaving me off with a few answered questions?"

"T–That's why I'm here, Doc."

"Really now?" I asked after a brief pause, my eyes finally meeting his. "Ah... ah, yes, of course, see, now, that's an interesting ploy, Your Highnesses! Having an old friend come down here to let me spill the beans! Bravissimo!"

"The princesses aren't here, Doctor," Caramel interjected. "They asked me if I wanted to be here and I said yes, yeah, but they're not here."

"So why send you?"

"I— wait, why send me?" he questioned, as if insulted. Come to think of it, I would be too if I was dismissed like that. "An old friend finally took the chance to come by and see you, and the first thing you ask him is 'why send me'? I came because I'm trying to help you, Doc. That's why I came. That's why I was... sent here."

"Is that what they told you to say?"

"What they told me to— Celestia's sake, it's nothing like that, Turner!" he insisted, this time using the name restricted only to my companions. "I'm here because I want to be. I'm here because... because you're my friend. Because I'm... I was your companion. I'm someone you can trust."

"Not exactly in a trusting mood right now, as you can see." My hoof rapped one of the iron bars, ignoring his disgruntled frown. "Right then, since you're here, let's get started, shall we?" I plopped myself back onto my bed. "So, what should I start with? Wait, don't answer that, that was rhetorical. Okay, okay, yes, something to break the ice would be good! Yes, something easy and fresh!"

A sigh. "If you say so."

"Right then!" I sat up and started things off. "How long has it been since we've last met, Caramel?"

Caramel opened his mouth, looking ready to answer, only to catch himself midway. "Sorry, Doc. Can't answer that."

"Why not?"

"Because of... what was the word they used... right, spoilers."

"Right. Of course." I instinctively gritted my teeth at that word. "You know, you really shouldn't fraternize with the princesses, Caramel. Doesn't really mesh well with your whole farmer image."

"They're trying to help, you know they are."

"Then they can help me by letting me go. Scot free, no strings attached."

"Things aren't that simple anymore, Doc," Caramel went off with all his cajoling again. "If it's that simple, they would've given the order and you'd be free by now, believe me. I would tell you everything if I could, but knowing things, I... I just can't. Trust me on this, Doc, just trust me."

"Why would I?" I asked. "How can I trust you when you can't tell me what's going on?" I stood up. "How can I trust you when you can't even tell me what day is it?!" I stomped towards him. "How do you expect me to trust you when you're content with just sitting there, smiling without a care in the world and just let the princesses do as they please?!"

In face of my outburst, Caramel said nothing. Not a sound, not a flinch, nothing. Some part of me began to question once again whether this was Caramel at all. No offense, but it's not like him to stand there firmly after being yelled down like that. It's not like him to still have the gall to thrust that straight-faced frown upon me after all I've said. It's not like him to give me that stare, one which I've seen so many times before.

"I don't need your pity, Caramel."

"Can't help it, Doc," he grumbled. "Everything's changed."

"Well, there's one thing we can agree on."

"No, no, I meant—" he sighed. "There's a lot of things I'm dying to tell you, Doc, honest to goodness. I'd answer everything if I could, believe me, but it's... it's really complicated. It all wouldn't make sense, especially with you in your... state..."

Silence.

"You knew."

Caramel solemnly nodded. "I'm sorry."

"Since when?"

"Since I learned you were in here, Doc. I... I didn't know if it was alright for me to come down here and meet you and... well... I just..." he chuckled, his voice grappled by... anguish? Misery? Something to that extent. "This whole time, I kept wondering... I–I can't help it, I just had to, I mean... why... why you, Turner? Of all ponies, why... you?"

I could tell he was being sincere— the glisten of his eyes, the faint tremors in his voice, the way he turns away every time he thinks his smile is beginning to wear off. I don't know how I knew that, but somewhere deep down, it's like... there's this sense of familiarity. Like I've seen this all before, even though I don't remember a lick of it. Seeing him like this, I... I don't know, I guess I felt... relieved?

Should I be relieved?

Do I deserve to be relieved?

"What happened?" I asked. I had to, even though I knew he wouldn't answer. He couldn't, lest he face the wrath of the princesses. "To us? To me and you... and... her?"

Silence ensued, thick and somber.

"Caramel?"

"I don't know..."

"You... don't know?" I bit my lip. "You mean you've forgotten as well?"

"No, it's not that. It's never that. It never would be that, never shall be, I swear on my mother's grave, I— I mean, I..." he cleared his ragged throat. "I just... I don't know why we ended up like that, Turner. Why everything that happened happened, you know?"

"Why? What happened?" I pressed. "What did I do?"

"I–I never said you did anything."

"I—" my voice was strangled midway. A gentle ache began blossoming in the corners of my head. Something churned in my gut. "But I did something, didn't I?" The words slipped from my mouth before I realized it. The aching grew and grew, the pain of... of not knowing something that's within my reach? Something so very important that was tossed aside? "Caramel, please. What did I do? Tell me, what did I do?"

"Turner—"

"Just answer me, Caramel!" I yelled, startling him. "Just... just this one question, just one question, please" I scampered up to the bars. "I did something, I know it, I know it, I know... I know I made a mistake, I just don't know what that mistake is, so please..."

I reached out to him, desperate.

Helpless.

Hopeless.

"Tell me, Caramel. What did I do?'

With that question, came a lengthy pause.

"Wrong."

With that reply, came agony.

It shrieked from my crackling head, my back hoisting upwards and my mouth falling open in a silent scream. Stumbling back, my left hoof flung itself to my searing head, my right scrambling about the floor in search for something to grab on. A blur of static clouded my vision, and from its crack, I could see Caramel seized by panic and desperately rattling the iron bars of my cell, yelling something that I could never make out among the convulsing echoes of whispers, of laughter and sorrow, of promises made and promises broken.

Of time.

"It's not what you did, Doctor." the voice — the source of my pain — boomed above the noises of the past. Yet in all that pain, it received me, and provided me with relief.

The kind that I truly, truly deserved.

"It's what you didn't do."
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"It's not much, I know."

"What's not much, I didn't say anything's not much."

"You don't have to say anything, Turner. I can tell." Caramel chuckled. "Not that I minded. I mean, comparing all this to your TARDIS? I don't think it ever stood a chance."

It's an unfair comparison, certainly— anything would be when compared to my lovely ol' TARDIS. Caramel should know that by now, though I suppose he might need a bit of time to figure that out. I have to say though, this was definitely one of the quainter farmhouses I had the pleasure of visiting, especially with how rustic and, well, medieval it looked. I would've thought the TARDIS took us to the wrong place were it not for the familiar wheat fields outside the windows that my ship crashed into all those years ago, which actually happened about six months before now chronologically.

Wibbly wobbly timey wimey. Hard to keep track sometimes.

"Want some bread?" Caramel asked me as I made myself comfortable on one of the rickety wooden chairs, my hooves stiffly gripping onto its sides. "Got some butter and mayo, if you want some flavor. Pretty sure you might want it. Bread's a lot crustier than any of the sandwiches in Canterlot," he said, the crackling it made as he scraped the butter knife along its sides soundly proving his point. "I could get some vegs from the storage if you want."

"No, I think I'm good with just water."

"Some baby carrots, at least?" he insisted. "You're my guest now, Turner. S'only fair I treat you like one."

I sighed— you lot never cease to amaze me sometimes. "Happen to have any custard?"

He grinned. "One bowlful, coming up."

Now, that's more like it!

Minutes later, I was dipping breadsticks in a swirling pit of golden gooey goodness, trying my best not to just dip my head in and lick the bowl squeaky-clean in front of my friend. Speaking of which, Caramel was quietly nibbling on some corn chips, glancing about as if searching for something to say. He did invite me into his home for some good ol' blubbering, after all. Pretty sure there's something more on his mind apart from a bowl of custard. Must be important too, if it's that urgent for him.

"So," I opted to speak first, then stopped there.

"So," Caramel responded, equally uncertain.

What a great way to start a conversation.

"These breadsticks are great," I tried again, quickly dipping another one into my bowl of custard. "Made these yourself?"

"Yeah. Mom's recipe," he pointed out, seemingly unfazed at the mention of her, much to my relief. "It's good, isn't it? Probably the best in the whole of High Horn Gulch, if you'd ask me."

"You could be a baker."

"I could, yeah, but I'm pretty sure I'd mix up the baking soda with the flour. You know how well I do under pressure, Doctor. Not to mention I might forget a thing or two there."

"Well." I paused. "Practice makes perfect. It's not like I learned how to fly the TARDIS the day I got it. I should mention this, I'm still learning how to fly it as well. Steep learning curves, flying a TARDIS."

"At least you didn't blow it up."

"Aha! Ha, yeah, right, at least I didn't, not one bit, right," I chuckled flusteredly. "Still, same goes for you though! Didn't see you going around blowing up bakeries and all that!"

Caramel managed a shrug. "I don't know, it's kinda hard to argue that I wouldn't, Doctor. Pretty sure it's the same reason why you didn't want me touching anything on the TARDIS."

"Again, steep learning curve."

"It was just the bookshelf, Doctor."

"Full of books! For learning!" I chomped on yet another breadstick, crumbs flying out my mouth as I continued speaking: "Just because I said you shouldn't be doing something in the TARDIS doesn't mean it's the same everywhere else! You may be a bad Doctor, but you could be a great baker! You'll never know!"

"Yeah, I... yeah, sure, I mean... I could be if I wanted to, but I..." Caramel gulped, looking down at his hooves. "I d–don't think it's what I want right now. Or rather, what I need, you know what I mean?"

I've always dreaded that word.

Need.

Whenever I hear that word being used, it always brings to mind so many things in my past. I've seen so many faces through all my lives that used that very word to justify the horrors they've done— the need to ensure their survival, the need to gain power, the need to be stronger to protect those around them. I've always found myself committing something heinous for those reasons myself, to the point where I sometimes drove those whom I sought to protect away. It's selfish of me, yet it always comes back, again and again, and sometimes I wondered if there was ever a need for me to do that at all.

Was it ever something I needed to do? That I, being the Doctor, had the responsibility to do?

Do I even need to be the Doctor anymore?

"I was thinking, Doctor." Caramel swallowed. "About my, uh... condition."

"Right."

"I've been thinking about it for a while now and..." he sighed. "I guess I'm just wondering if there's a way for me to... not let it happen to me anymore, you know? I mean, I–I know time traveling isn't something to take lightly, I know that, but it's just... if there was a way, maybe I could fix it, you know. Maybe... maybe I could... fix me... and maybe I can be better once I've done that... maybe that's what I need..."

Need.

I've always dreaded that word because of how simple it can be.

Simple, yet all the more dangerous.

"Do you think it'll make you a better pony?"

"Wouldn't it?" Caramel laughed, a slight tinge of sourness tainting his throat. "I'm always losing track of everything, Doctor. Every day, I wake up just to try and figure out anything important I did yesterday. Heck, I barely remembered wanting to talk to you about this as well. I just kept on forgetting and forgetting and... it only makes sense that I want it to stop, right? I mean, what if one day I woke up and forget who you were? Or who Twilight was? Or who I was? What if that happens to me, Doctor? Tell me, what then?"

I looked at him, before glancing back down at the bowl of custard and dipping another breadstick in.

"S–Sorry, I didn't mean to, I..." he grumbled at himself. "I–I just... I need to, I... I want to at least try... you know. I don't know what it would mean in the end, but if it'll help you and Twilight, my dad even... heavens above, if I could just be a little more than... all this..."

"You're already a good pony, Caramel."

"Twilight said that too." he sighed. "I get it. Good's enough for you. For both of you."

"And I never wanted anything more than that," I reiterated. "The time we met in Canterlot, when I asked you about how you'd feel if ever there was something in this whole universe that destiny had prepared for you, you said you'd feel lucky. That you're fortunate enough to be chosen for something like that. You remember that, Caramel?"

Caramel almost looked as if he was about to shake his head.

"Either way, that answer alone made me certain that you're somepony that I can trust— well, that, and a couple of other things, but point is!" I stopped to take a breath. "You don't need to do anything more than what you're doing now to become a better pony, Caramel. You're already doing it every single day."

"But what if I fail? What then?"

"You haven't. Not yet. If you wanted to forget me or Twilight or everything you're afraid of forgetting, you would've done so already." I managed a smile, swirling my last breadstick in the custard pond before popping it in my mouth. "See, that's the funny thing with you lot. Always worrying about the future, about how you'd be seen in time, all these little things, ooh, the little things that keep you up at night. But that's also what makes you great. It's what reminds me that you ponies are capable of doing good, no matter the cost."

"But that's it then. In the end, that's all we are to you. We're never better or worse, we're just... good."

"Good is great, Caramel. Trust me, I've been from one end of the universe to the other, seen every star, every galaxy in every point of time that existed and those that have yet to exist, yet I always ended up coming back here."

I drew my gaze to the wheat fields outside gently billowing in the wind.

"Good is useless. It's hard to find, hard to give, hard to teach, hard to keep. It's hard to get anything more from good other than good itself. Here though? On this planet? It's everywhere. Every mountain, every valley, every corner of every street. Look what it's done for you lot. Look what it's doing. There are always moments where the good can be stolen away from you, but it always comes back. Somehow, it always comes back. Why is that?"

Nonplussed, Caramel shrugged. I did the same.

"I'm always wondering myself. Why have good when there's no use for it at all? However, that's precisely what makes it great. Good isn't something you can ever buy or sell. Good is just that. It's good. And that's great. And that's precisely why every creature on this planet is blessed to be living here, Caramel, myself included. Because it's all good here. Everything's all good. If that isn't great, I don't know what is."

I could tell he was a little lost, but the small glitter in his eyes as he contemplated over my words told me everything I said finally got to him. "I just... I only wanted to..." he began, only to shake his head. "You know, you're always saying the darnedest things, Turner."

"I only do that when there's someone around to hear me say it," I quipped with a wink. "Also, you're all good, Caramel. You don't need to become a better pony than who you already are. You're all good. Don't let anyone else tell you otherwise."

A light nod. "You, erm..." he gestured to my custard. "You gonna finish that?"

I rolled my eyes, before licking my lips. "Geronimo."

I think I must've spent another half an hour just blubbering and babbling away with Caramel, all while chugging down the custard in between. There's a lot more that we talked about, and though I spent a lot of the time correcting all the happenings he accidentally left out in our past adventures — Twilight would've certainly be annoyed with me were she there as well — it was, all in all, a good time.

It was a great time, in fact.

And that's just fine by me.

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