Sunset had forgotten to charge her phone, and that could only mean one thing: Donut Joe's. The differing values and economies of worlds meant that human-Joe ran six stores in the greater Canterlot area, and did most of his work behind the scenes. That had come as something of a shock to Sunset, given that pony-Joe was always the one working the counter in his store, but in spite of the differences, one thing that remained the same was the quality of both the doughnuts and the coffee.
In addition to having accessible outlets, good food and drinks, and staff that never told you to hurry up and leave, they also had something else Sunset often relied upon: free Wi-Fi. When she needed more than her phone could offer, internet-wise, Sunset would lug her battered old laptop in and set up shop.
One or the other happened often enough for her to be a regular customer, which was why, when Sunset reached the front of the line, a cup of coffee and a bagel sandwich were laid out for her. The scent of allspice was in the air, but when Sunset breathed deeply she could distinguish the aromas of real ginger, cinnamon, nutmeg and cloves as well.
Sunset laid her money down and playfully asked, "Whatever will you do if I decide to get something different someday?"
That was met with look of mock horror, then, "You mean I might be forced to drink a pumpkin spice coffee and eat an egg and eggplant bagel?" Next came a fake shudder, then a smile, and finally, "It'll be hard, but I'll find a way to survive."
"Thanks," Sunset said before heading to her usual spot.
She was in no hurry to check her phone, so she left it off when she plugged it in, slowly enjoyed her bagel, and occasionally sipped her coffee.
Once upon a time Sunset had eaten as fast as she could. It was a habit she'd picked up during her early years in this world. She didn't understand it at the time --if she didn't have much food, wouldn't it be better to savor it-- she just knew that she felt like she had to. Now she understood that it had been a result of a deep, almost instinctual drive to get as much food as she could while it lasted so that when she went back to the edge of starvation she'd have as many calories in reserve as possible.
Her mind might have known that she'd have this or that item of food for however long it took her to eat it, but her body was terrified that she might lose access to it at any moment. It all had to be eaten right away, because a predator might drive her off, or a rival might steal some, before she finished eating.
Given that it didn't arise from a position of rationality, it wasn't really something she could think herself out of. It had been a hard habit to break, and she still had relapses, but she definitely seemed to have put it, mostly, in the past.
She made the bagel last for half an hour. There was still plenty of coffee left, but with the bagel gone she had to do something else, so she turned on her phone.
That was when things stopped making sense.
It said she'd missed dozens of calls and hundreds of texts. The only thing she could think of that might provoke this was a new magical threat, but if that were the case she should have seen or felt something. Magical monsters were seldom subtle.
When she tried to figure out what was going on, the texts were extremely unhelpful. The most recent ones all fit into three categories, the first was, "Are you ok?" the second was, "Please contact me," and the third was both of those in a single text.
As Sunset was scrolling up through messages like that, hoping to find a message that revealed what had set this all off, she got a call. It took her a couple rings to recognize the number --Principal Celestia had never called her before-- but the moment she did, she picked up.
"Hello?" Sunset asked.
"Sunset!" was the response. Celestia wasn't exactly known for being shouty. Sunset wasn't sure whether that was more or less disconcerting than everyone on earth thinking she wasn't ok for reasons no one had bothered to share, but it was very definitely not concerting. "Thank God I got a hold of you; where are you?"
"Donut Joe's," Sunset said automatically. "The one by the rail yard."
"I'll be there in five minutes," Celestia said.
"Ok," Sunset said, "that's nice. Would this have anything to do with half the school calling or texting me in the last two hours?"
"You don't know?"
"I thought that was obvious," Sunset said, then she realized she was being rude. "Sorry. It's just, when my phone died everything was fine, now I'm inundated with messages, and so far none of them--"
It was probably a good thing Celestia cut her off, given that she'd been on the verge of shouting. The way Celestia cut her off, though, was as confusing as everything else. Specifically, "Do you have an internet connection?" didn't really feel like a relevant question right now.
"I can," Sunset said, making no effort to hide her confusion.
"Look yourself up on a video site," Celestia said, "any video site." That didn't sound ominous at all. "I'll be there soon."
⁂
Sunset was sitting in shock when Celestia came into the store. She did manage to notice Celestia's entrance and wave to make sure Celestia spotted her, but that was about the limit of what she could do right now.
When Celestia sat across from her, she didn't even respond.
"Sunset . . ." Celestia said.
"I don't . . . I just . . ." After those two failed attempts, Sunset gave up on talking.
"Sunset," Celestia said. Then she paused, seemed to think a moment, and said, "Actually, you know what? I'll be back in a second." After that she stood up, and left Sunset's field of vision.
After an indeterminate period of time that was, most definitely, longer than a second, Celestia reappeared. She was holding two drinks and a brown paper bag. One of the drinks was pushed to Sunset, and from the bag Celestia produced a chocolate glazed doughnut with strawberry frosting. It was Sunset's favorite.
"How did you . ? ." Sunset asked, counting on context to fill in the rest of the sentence.
"I asked them to give me whatever you liked most," Celestia said.
"They don't even make these," Sunset said, "the only reason I ever had one in the first place is that some mix up led to the wrong doughnuts being frosted."
"That would explain why they had to go into the back to produce the proper product," Celestia said.
Sunset considered pointing out that they weren't actually supposed to do that. Joe's culinary philosophy involved doing a certain set of things very well, not experimenting to create new and different things. She decided it didn't matter. Instead she took a bite of her doughnut.
"I take it from your earlier, near-catatonic, state that you've caught up on current events," Celestia said.
"Yeah," Sunset said, sarcasm seeping in, "I'm famous. My fifteen minutes have come round at last, and now the whole world knows my name."
"Have you thought about what you want to do about it?" Celestia asked.
"What's to do?" Sunset asked. "It's out there. Even if there were some way to get rid of every copy of the video, it's in people's minds. There might be magic capable of making people forget, but if there is it's absurdly evil and should never be used."
"I meant," Celestia said patiently, which Sunset tried to remind herself wasn't the same as 'patronizingly', "do you want to fight to keep what you've made for yourself here, or would you rather start over in a world with a certain purple princess who would probably welcome you like a recently rediscovered sister?"
"I don't want to run away," Sunset said. She had been planning on following that with, 'but I don't see how I can stay,' but Celestia responded before she could.
"Good," Celestia said, "I don't want you to leave either."
"So I'll just wait to be quietly abducted and carted off to some secret lab," Sunset said.
Sunset expected Celestia to say something to offer comfort and dismiss the possibility that terrible things would happen. Instead Celestia asked, "How do you know the religious fanatics won't get to you first?" After a moment spent with Sunset looking at her in disbelief, she added, "Exorcism seems at least as likely as experiments."
"Whatever the case," Sunset said, "it's everywhere. We can add the people who think angels and demons are highly advanced aliens and cryptozoologists to the unethical scientists and religious fanatics."
"Don't forget potential suitors who think Demon Sunset Shimmer is hot," Celestia added in a way that was far too playful for Sunset's liking.
"I thought you wanted me to stay," Sunset said as flatly as she could.
"I do," Celestia said. "So let me tell you what's going to happen. Tomorrow this will be all over the news as the latest thing to go viral and various experts will comment on the things that might have gone into making the 'hoax'," Celestia used airquotes in a way that would make any teenager proud, "and only true believers and reporters who have literally nothing else to do are going to bother coming to Canterlot."
"True believers can be dangerous," Sunset said, "and with the video in so many places eventually someone is going to realize it wasn't faked."
"Yes," Celestia said, "eventually someone will. No one in the general public will take them seriously, but that may not matter. You're right to fear that someone might attempt to abduct you."
"Do you have a plan for that?" Sunset asked. "Because I don't."
"Yes, actually," Celestia said. "Right now you're very abductable."
While she didn't make a noise, the look Sunset gave Celestia conveyed a message of, "I'm what now?" as clearly as any words ever could.
"Sunset," Celestia said, "legally you don't exist." Sunset nodded at that. "Which means that disappearing you would be relatively low risk. If someone who doesn't exist isn't around anymore, who --legally speaking-- notices?"
"You're really selling the whole 'Stay in the human world' angle," Sunset said with all due sarcasm.
"So our first step is to make you exist," Celestia said.
"How?" Sunset asked.
"I've been looking into the matter for some time now," Celestia said, "and I was going to suggest that we start with a birth certificate, but in light of recent events I think it's more important to get you family."
"I don't think I can order one of those off of ebay," Sunset said.
"No, but I feel that 'This person has close relatives who will notice their absence and try to find them' would be a stronger deterrent than 'There is documentation that this person was born'," Celestia said. "So, I think, we should start with family."
"Well," Sunset said with a shrug, "I've always wanted one of those."
Celestia closed her eyes, tilted her head down a bit, and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Sunset," she said as she opened her eyes and looked up, "this isn't something to be flippant about. You've been living on your own since before I met you; you're used to being independent. This would mean giving that up."
Sunset closed her own eyes and thought things over.
"I'm talking about being part of an actual family," Celestia said. "In all senses. Until your next birthday, you'd legally be under someone else's authority. You've never been one to follow orders, and I doubt you like the idea of someone else having final say on your medical decisions."
Sunset kept thinking for a few more moments, then opened her eyes and said, "I don't." She paused. "But you're right: I think 'That's my daughter' is probably more powerful than 'That's a girl with no family that I happen to know.'"
Sunset sighed then let her head droop. Eventually she stopped with her head held in her hands, as she stared down at the table. "So," she said, "what do you recommend?"
"It needs to be someone that you trust," Celestia said. "Someone you'd listen to even if they didn't have power over you, someone that you believe wouldn't abuse that power, intentionally or otherwise. Someone who understands you well enough that you don't think the whole thing will turn into your own private Hell."
"And someone who wouldn't mind adopting a seventeen year old ex-bully with no documentation," Sunset said. She lifted her head, went back to looking at Celestia, and asked, "Do you have someone like that in mind?"
Celestia gave her a look that said, "Really?" and said it sarcastically.
"I didn't want to presume," Sunset said.
"Well, you're not," Celestia said, "I'm offering."
"When do I move in?" Sunset asked. "I can't wait to slam a door in your face."
"See? That's what I mean about being flippant," Celestia said. "I'm completely serious. If you don't trust me or if you do but you aren't willing to give up your autonomy, then this will go very badly for both of us. You're going to--"
"Ok," Sunset said, now completely serious, "you are right. I am used to being on my own, having final say, and generally being an adult. I'm not in any hurry to give that up, especially since Equestrian law says I've been an adult for about half a decade--"
"So young?" Celestia asked with clear surprise.
Sunset shrugged. "I honestly think your way is better," she said, "but not for imposing on people who grew up in a completely different culture." She paused. "The point that I was getting to, though, is that I'm well aware that nothing is free, and sometimes you have to give up something you don't want to lose for something you actually need."
Celestia said, "Considering it a transaction--" and Sunset cut her off.
"Look at it from my point of view," Sunset said. "If you can send me to my room, it means I have a room. If you can order me to make my bed, it means I have a bed. If you give me a 'While you're under my roof,' speech, then it means I have a roof over my head. If you tell me I have to finish the food on my plate, it means that I have both food and a plate to put it on."
Sunset took a deep breath. The next one, which Celestia herself had noted, was probably the biggest one for Sunset.
"If you pull rank when it comes to a medical decision, I will be unspeakably angry and possibly reconsider whether I want to be in this world, but at least it means I'm getting medical care," she paused a beat, then finished with, "and I don't think you'd do something like that."
Celestia definitely seemed receptive to this.
"Or," Sunset said, "for the extremely short version: if you tell me I need to be home by such and such time every night, it means I have a place to spend the night, and --more than that-- it means I have a home."
"So you have thought this through," Celestia said. It wasn't a question, but Sunset nodded anyway. "That makes me feel a lot more comfortable about this."
Sunset suppressed a smirk, then said, "So, mom, where do we live?"
"And you're flippant again," Celestia said.
"I am ready to get out of here," Sunset said, serious once more. She was going to say more, but she didn't get the chance.
"You've taken all of one bite out of your doughnut," Celestia said, and she pointed for emphasis.
Sunset blurted out the first thing that came to mind, which happened to be, "I forgot that existed." She picked it up, took another bite, and then said, "I can eat it on the way while you regale me with the process and paperwork that lies ahead of us."
Celestia stood up, Sunset followed suit, and soon they were both heading for the parking lot.
Celestia spoke as they walked, "The good news is that I have friends who are helpful, and much of the groundwork was already laid when I first realized you could potentially need a legal guardian in a hurry. The bad news is that since everything needs to hold up to close scrutiny, we don't get to rush anything from here on out."
"Meaning?" Sunset asked, then took another bite of her doughnut.
"All that's needed for custody is the two of us in court and your consent," Celestia said, "that can be done tomorrow, but as for adoption . . . the only thing we can do now is placement."
"And 'placement' is?" Sunset asked.
"The part where you move in," Celestia said. "Six months have to pass," they reached Celestia's car, and both got in, "between placement and the finalization of an adoption."
"So . . . it's not so much that you get to say, 'Don't vivisect my daughter,'" Sunset said, "as it is that you get to say, 'Don't vivisect the the girl who will be my daughter in six months.'"
Celestia rolled her eyes. "I get to say 'daughter', and if anyone asks me to back it up, I point out that I have full custody and the adoption process is underway." After a pause, Celestia added, "And --even if we don't go through with this-- if anyone tries to vivisect you," there was a hardness in her voice, the kind made one think bodies would soon need to be disposed of, "words and legal notions of kinship will be the least of their worries."
Sunset appraised Celestia.
Celestia, apparently, found being appraised disconcerting or some such because she asked, "What?" with a slight edge and a great deal of confusion.
Sunset gave a small nod to herself, then said, "I think I can see you as my mother."
Celestia smiled. Sunset gave a slight smile in return, then let herself collapse back into the passenger seat. "Now," Sunset said, "I guess I have to tell the whole of CHS that I'm neither dead nor missing."
"You do that," Celestia said, then she started the engine, and soon they were on the road.