Blazing a Trail to the Past.

by Daylight_Dreamer


62- Sticks and stone break my bones, but bullets break my heart.

As I looked down the sights of the Wonderbolt special issue sidearm I could feel the familiar embrace of Daylight's memories being played in my mind's eye. One thing didn't feel familiar though. I was totally terrified of what I was about to see. So much so that rather than falling limp, my body tensed up and held its position as if I was frozen in the middle of aiming to take a shot.
---
The memories started back by the graves, right after being confronted by Firestorm.

I had just left the note saying it was the last time I let her live.

I decided it was about time her sidearm was repossessed. It was supposed to be a status symbol but she was no longer a commander.

I moved my old sidearm to the left side and put the new one on the right.

I spread my wings to fly away, but folded them back up and started walking.

I got several miles before a familiar rumble pulled up behind me. I stopped but didn't turn to face it as I heard the parking brake engage and the door open.

"Daylight," It was Jeremy, his voice was softer than I expected, "what's going on? I just stopped to pay respects to Jerry, and the whole place looks like a crime scene. Are you ok?"

I tried to talk but instead fell to the ground sobbing. I knew I couldn't live with myself if I had killed Firestorm, but I didn't know what to say to this soldier who had just lost his best friend at her hooves after I pulled them both into the mess.

"I... I... I..." I didn't even know what I was trying to say, I just knew I had to say something or I was going to scream.

He walked up and kneeled down to place a hand on my shoulder, all he said was, "just let it out."

I felt like a fool. Here I was a middle-aged stallion sobbing like a baby as a young human pet me like a dog. Still, I couldn't help but feel reassured by his words as I took a deep breath and just let myself scream out all the frustration that had been building up inside.

"Isn't that better?" he asked once I stopped screaming and caught my breath.

"A little," I had to admit as I sat up. He let go of my shoulder and sat cross-legged in front of me.

"Was it Firestorm again?" he asked.

"How could you tell?" I asked.

"You only get this upset when she's involved," he said, "and it would explain the fight that obviously just happened."

"It's just that... she refuses to give up," I said, "and all because I wouldn't let her kill me. It's like she won't rest until one of us is dead at the other's hooves."

"And you still won't let her kill you," he pointed out, "That better not change."

"Aren't you upset that I didn't get revenge for Jerry and the others?" I asked. It was weighing on my mind, "I had my sidearm on her forehead, and I couldn't pull the trigger."

"Do you know a potion to bring Jerry and your friends back to life that requires her blood?" he asked. I could tell he knew the question was silly. Blood isn't a potion ingredient. Hair, skin, saliva maybe, but not blood.

"No," I said, "death is untreatable."

"Then what good would it really do?" he asked rhetorically, "You wouldn't be such a loyal guy if you didn't give everybody every chance. As long as you can stop her without killing her, I know that's what you're going to do."

"But what if she never stops?" I asked, "what if killing her is the only way?"

He looked me in the eye. I could tell he didn't know what to say to that, but in his eyes, I saw something I knew very little about.

We were different species, from different worlds, and he was over a decade younger than me, but at that moment he was looking at me with the loving eyes of a father counseling his child.

"It all comes down," he finally spoke, "to what you think is right. If you can live with yourself after pulling that trigger, then you did the right thing."

We sat in that open field silently for what seemed like an eternity before I found my voice again.

"Thank you," was all I said.

"Any time," he said, "Let me give you a ride home."

As we were getting into the jeep Jeremy took a good look around.

"This is a nice place," he said, "they should put a ponyville here or something."

"A ponyville?" I asked.

"Yea, you know," he said, "a village for ponies."

"Around here," if he was trying to make me laugh he had succeeded, "we just call that a village."
-
I jumped forward a few years to myself being shaken out of bed.

"Daylight!" Feather Dreamer shouted, "wake up! Sweet Dreams is missing!"

I shot out of bed and automatically placed hooves into both sidearms waiting on my nightstand.

"I found this on an arrow stuck to the front of the house," Feather held out a note.
--
You should really keep your door locked so your daughter doesn't wander into the woods late at night.

If you want to see her again then meet me where you should have killed me.
--
"Is this from who I think it is?" Feather asked.

"I'm afraid so," I said.

"Come on," she said, "she fucked with my daughter this time," Feather placed a hoof into her own sidearm. She hadn't been issued one as a doctor, but her father had served and left his to her, "She's not getting off easy."

We got to the graves to find Firestorm sitting on a large metal box that was padlocked shut. She seemed to have found herself a new weapon, but it was clearly something cobbled together from spare parts.

"I finally have you," Firestorm said, "it took me forever to come up with the idea, and even longer to have the box made, then all the waiting around to catch your precious Sweetie out of that little shield of yours. I never thought it would be so easy. This is three inches of solid iron. The only way to open it is with this key." She held a key out before swallowing it, "Oops!"

"I know plenty of potions that will make you throw that up," I pointed out, "If you won't give up, at least tell me why you want me dead so badly."

"WHY!?!" she shouted, "you dare ask why after everything you've done to my family!"

She tried to shoot at me but I was already in the air trying to get close. She had figured out my tactics and was not having it. She never got a shot in herself but she managed to dodge every move I made.

"You don't even know how to use a weapon of that caliber," she mocked me, "Do you even know how many ponies it's killed? I lost count!"

"It's not the weapon," I said, "it's the wielder. It's not killing anymore."

"Yea," she said, "That's what you think." She took a shot and grazed my cheek.

I fired back with my left hoof and managed to hit her gun. I lunged at her expecting it to be knocked off her hoof. I was wrong.

She swung her hoof back around and fired hitting me in the chest, the bullet piercing my heart. She was just a moment too late though as my limp body crashed into her causing us both to fall out of the sky.

I felt myself slipping away until a vial was shoved into my mouth and I could taste the bitter ingredients of a vitality potion. I could feel my heart mend as a wave of energy rushed over me.

I opened my eyes to see Feather holding the vial to my mouth. She pulled it away once the contents were drained, "You're not getting away from me that easy," she joked.

Our touching moment was short-lived as Firestorm jumped at us with a knife aimed at Feather's throat.

With no time to even think I leveled Firestorms own Wonderbolt issued sidearm directly between her eyes and pulled the trigger. Her legs went off to the sides as her body fell to the ground in front of us.

I tried to remember everything she put me through, but nothing prepares you for something like that.

There wasn't much left of her above the neck. Just a lower jaw and a section of the spine. Everything else was more or less a paste covering the ground around her.

I screamed at the top of my lungs. I wanted Jeremy to hear. I wanted him to come to tell me it was ok. I needed him to tell me that I had done what I had to do.

I could never scream that loud. He was back home.

"Come on," Feather said once I had calmed down, "we need to get you home for proper treatment. You know as well as I do that those vitality potions are just to keep you alive until then."

"What about Sweet Dreams?" I said, "we have to get her out." I wretched at the thought of what I would have to do to get the key from a headless body.

"You're silly," she giggled.

"What!?" I was shocked she would treat our daughter being trapped in a box so lightly.

"I can pick locks," she pointed at the open box, "remember? Oh, yea. I just learned last night! Silly me. Well, you know now. She should already be home."

"Well let's get going," I laughed. I was wondering if there could ever be a pony more random than her. She truly was a Protector of Humor.

I stood up and tried to walk but Feather stood in front of me.

"You know the drill, Mister," she squatted to the ground.

"Do I have to?" I asked.

"Your heart is still healing," she said, "we have to keep your pulse down."

"Fine," I said climbing on the back of my wife, "you do realize I'm a lot heavier than you right?"

She stood up and started trotting along like it was nothing, "What was that, Honey?" she asked.

"Just, I love you," I smiled and rested my head on hers. She didn't seem to mind as I dozed off along the way.

Once I was all bandaged up and allowed to walk around on my own again I went out to the shed behind my hut. This was the one place I really only allowed my family. This was a special place.

I opened the door and was greeted by the human's jeep. They always said it was Jordans, but they all drove it so I never saw it that way.

I walked around to the passenger side where I had propped the door open so I could climb inside to think. I sat down and stared at the empty glove box. Jordan always kept his sidearm in there, so I never understood why it was called a 'glove box'.

It was still wide open from when he grabbed the gun before heading home. I never closed it for the simple fact I would never be able to open it, but would I ever need to? Was I ever going to put anything in there that I needed back when an accident could seal it shut on me requiring me to bring a unicorn over?

I looked at the sidearm I had taken with me. What had I become? Was I as bad as my father? Was I a cold-blooded soldier?

No, I'm still a healer. I'm never going to kill another pony. Then why did I need so much firepower?

The more I looked at her old weapon the more the image of Firestorm laying on the ground was engraved in my head.

I threw it in the open glovebox and slammed it shut. Then got out of the jeep and slammed the door shut.

I knew that trying to bury the memory wasn't going to make me feel better, but at that moment I had no idea what would.

As I closed the shed door I heard the sweetest little voice behind me.

"Daddy," Sweet Dreams said, "can I have some ice cream?"

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry as she reminded me of her mother. She was ten years old and had just been through Tartarus, and all she wanted was ice cream.

"Of course you can," I said, "let's go inside. I bet your mother is already dishing it up for all of us."