Daphne thought about it. And she didn’t know what to think. Or maybe, she didn’t know why she thought what she did.
Was she really supposed to just go against her natural instinct to throw out the syringes her father left on the table? But she had no good reason to do that. She wouldn't have had a good reason years ago when this started. Oh, but she wanted to.
She forced herself not to though. Whether really her father or not—of course it was her father—Candle Light was going above and beyond to try and make her comfortable, to get her to agree, to make sure that she was fully informed of what would happen. She couldn't throw away what might legitimately have been her last chance at being convinced.
But she didn't inject herself. Instead, she carefully tucked the syringes into a hoodie pocket. It wasn't one hundred percent safety, but safe enough, she figured. Carrying them around would accomplish the same thing as using them, but without the commitment.
She sat down to put her head on her hands. Why am I acting like this? she asked herself silently. She was definitely traumatized by all of this. Everything her father said was right. She was coming along before Olivia died; or maybe it started with her father dying instead. Seventeen was too young to lose a father. How many years ago was that now? It still hurt today.
But the days went by, Daphne spending the next few weeks at home before the birth of her child. A girl, one she named Aurora. She wasn't entirely sure why; maybe the idea of Equestria was finally starting to get into her head after her father talked to her, and she wanted a nice name for her baby, just in case. She didn't tell that to Pete though. Daphne barely told him anything anyway.
But he was nice and kind as always. He stayed home with her on paternity leave for a month or so, helping Daphne through the new routine of taking care of Aurora. He talked to her, and held her close and told her it would be okay, even if she didn't really feel it. It might not have been a situation Daphne desired to be in, or would ever choose, but Pete did his best. He was there for her. He didn't leave her, like Steven and Liana and her mother did. He had that going for him.
Her father didn't ever leave her either, did he? She didn't know all the details, but she imagined she was almost always on the forefront of Candle Light’s mind.
Man, did she want to hug her tight. But she would have to settle for hugging Pete while she held Aurora.
“What are you thinking about, Daph?” Pete asked as he helped her lean into him. “You have a look.”
Daphne sighed. What else could she do? “Just everything,” she told him tiredly. Why she felt so afraid. Why she didn't deserve to be happy.
“Hey, it’ll be okay,” he told her as she closed her eyes. “Things are getting better already! We have a family, we’re safe, there’s less and less people uploading—things are looking up! We’ll get through it. Humanity will get through it.”
Yeah, right. Even Daphne knew that. This was over before anyone even knew what was happening.
She didn’t say that, of course. “I hope so,” was her more positive reply. “But do you ever think about it?” she continued. “Not uploading, but… if it was real, and there was a way to upload without dying immediately. Like, through an injection or something, like a vaccine.”
Pete smirked and shook his head, scoffing at the idea. “It’d be nice, but I wouldn’t trust it,” he told her simply. “Something like that would probably just immediately kill you anyway. And then even if Equestria was real, it probably wouldn’t even work. But it’s not real.”
Daphne nodded in agreement. “Yeah, you’re right.”
She would find out there were other deadly things besides Equestria, it turned out.
Aurora was about six months old when it happened. The day was a cold, snowy one, the white fluffy flakes piling up by the foot. Pete had gone back to work by this time, and so had Daphne, at reduced hours, opposite weeks that Pete worked. She cared for their daughter while he went out, swaddling Aurora in blankets to protect her from the cold, since they were still rationing energy. Where all the rationed energy went, she didn't know, but she did know that it was hard work oil drilling. Pete worked back to back weeks three weeks in a row because they needed extra labor. It meant that Daphne had to stay home to take care of Aurora while he worked.
It was a lucky thing that she was at home with her daughter. It would've been her shift had Pete not been covering extra hours. Instead, she witnessed the explosion from the safety of her cold, cold apartment while she fed Aurora.
She barely remembered setting Aurora down in her crib before she was at the rig, carrying one of the pens Candle Light had given her in her pocket. Daphne had made a lot of mistakes, but she wasn't going to make this one. If there was a one percent chance that this would work, she had to take it. She knew that back when her father had cancer.
Except she was being an idiot then. Now wasn't the time for that. She pushed the urge to do something else stupid down and made her way to find Pete.
If talking to Candle Light before didn't change anything, seeing Pete now did. He was injured, of course. Badly. Bad enough that Daphne knew he wasn't going to survive. In a different time, he might have. They didn't have high skilled surgeons and doctors to give him the care he would need anymore though. There was no chance.
His eyes looked glassy, but his gaze focused on her as she gasped. Her body was shaking like crazy. This wasn't like her family. Her dad had cancer, and the rest of them made a choice. This was sudden, completely out of left field, with no warning or build up. Candle Light was right. She wasn't safe here! Daphne had to keep from hyperventilating.
“What are you doing here, Daffie?” Pete asked weakly as he reached a hand up to touch her cheek. “Are you alright? Where's Rory?”
Daphne didn't answer. She couldn't. Her lips were silent, no words in her mind that she could think to speak. But her body moved, and suddenly, she was fumbling under him to get Pete on his side to reach his neck.
“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice hoarse. “What is that?”
Why? Why was she hesitating at the question? What had her father said? If there was an accident, this would work, and this was an accident. But would this work immediately? Maybe Pete wasn’t as bad off as he looked. Maybe if someone hurried, they could–
No. She couldn’t hesitate. That was idiotic thinking. She’d been stupid enough already, she wasn’t gonna keep making stupid decisions. If there was a one in a trillion chance this would work, that chance had to be taken.
But the chance might have been lost because of her idiocy once again. Pete looked into her eyes, and seemed to read what she was doing.
“Are you trying to upload me?” His voice still wasn’t very strong, but there was a sense of betrayal there as he flexed away from her painfully. “I don’t want to upload… we said we wouldn’t…” He could barely argue, but he still tried to anyway.
“That’s gonna kill me,” he tried to tell her. Isn’t that what Daphne said to her father before? Said about her father? “I don't want you to–”
“Pete, you’re dying,” she told him, turning his neck back around for her to reach. Her voice choked up. Why was she doing this? He might’ve been right; this really might just kill him. There was no way she could know. Maybe her father would’ve beaten cancer had he not gone to Japan. How could Daphne ever know?
Her hands were shaking, and her breathing was picking up, but she tried her best to push those feelings down. “Look at you,” she told him shakily, breathlessly, like it was her that was injured instead. “I need you to be safe. Everyone else I know is gone, so I need you to be safe, too, just in case. Please?” She could barely get the words out.
Why does this always happen? she asked herself silently as the shock of the moment hit her fully. It happened with everyone she knew. Everyone. Every single person she cared about, whether on purpose or by accident. Daphne didn’t even realize that she cared about Pete this much, at least not before. How much was his being around keeping her sane?
“Daffie, I don’t… want to…” His speech was slower now, his eyes less focused again. That was the problem with being around someone exactly like her. In the exact same situation, she would say no, too. Maybe it would’ve been different had Olivia not been convinced into emigrating so quickly. She really was coming around before. But then she did keep these syringes for a reason.
She wasn’t going to use it on herself though, no way.
Pete closed his eyes, and his breathing slowed. “Can you still hear me?” Daphne asked nervously.
“Yeah… I’m just resting. I feel tired.” It wasn’t a good sign. Celestia needed consent, right? Could she consent for Pete right now? Why hadn’t she talked to him about this before? What was wrong with her?
What was she even doing? She was wasting time on impossibilities. “I’m gonna go get a nurse or someone who can help you, okay?” she told him. “I’ll be right back!” Then she stood up to leave, but Pete grabbed her arm tight.
“Stay here with me,” he said firmly. He opened his eyes to glance into hers now. They were completely unfocused, barely making their way to Daphne’s. It was a miracle they opened at all before they shut again a second later. She had to find someone.
Or not.
“I can only stay here if you agree to do this. If I’m staying and it doesn’t work, nothing changes, so let me. Otherwise, I need to find a doctor for you.”
“I feel tired,” Pete told her again. There was a second of silence before he asked, “Would you do this, if it was you hurt in an accident?
“I would,” she told him quickly, probably a lie. “Now please just say you’re letting me so I can. Please. I’m begging you. You said it’d be nice before if something like this existed, and if I’m staying here, what changes?” She was crying now. She’d been doing a lot of that over the years.
He still didn’t open his eyes, and didn’t speak for a long minute. Daphne was afraid he was already falling unconscious, and almost moved to shake him awake when he spoke again. “Promise you’ll stay here with Aurora? It’s too risky to use on her.”
“I promise,” she assured him, unsure if that was the truth now. “Now let me? Please?”
He didn’t say anything anymore, but gave a little nod. Daphne inhaled a cold breath, and wasted no time in pushing the pen into the back of his neck, pushing until it clicked like Candle Light said. Then Pete opened his eyes again one more time.
“I love you, Daffie, and Rory, too.”
“We love you, too, Petey,” she replied, probably the most truthful statement she made so far. She was closer to believing her words now than ever before. “Please let it be real.”
“I never hoped it was before until now,” he told her.
He was still losing blood, and his grip on her arm eventually failed. Daphne used her freed up hand to touch his cheek while she tearfully talked to him, discussing Aurora and herself and the first time they met back in Arizona and regrets and nice times they spent together. She wanted to get up and run away, to find someone, anyone who could help, but she knew that was pointless. She knew that the second she saw him. There wasn’t going to be any coming back from this for Pete. The reality of the situation made her cry harder.
This always happened. To everyone. Daphne didn’t deserve to be happy.
Maybe it was because he was dying, but Daphne started to feel love building for him. Maybe she was just being an idiot as usual and brushing him off before. Another reason why she didn't deserve happiness.
Maybe if… then… maybe, just maybe…
Eventually, he closed his eyes again, and never opened them back up.
Daphne sobbed for the rest of the night, and held her baby close as she cried on and off for the entire next day. Aurora seemed to cry with her gently, undoubtedly not understanding why. Candle Light showed up again a few days later, as a pony this time, and they wept together for a while. Then the mare explained to her that she hadn’t noticed him in Equestria, but she wouldn't know what he looked like and several ponies moved to Summer's Edge and she would ask Celestia about it later. She of course highlighted that she was certain Pete was there, offering that she was the one who came up with the syringes she used. Then the conversation moved to Aurora.
“I can't believe I get to be a grandma,” Candle Light smiled brightly again. “Your brother and little sister are single, and your other little sister doesn't like foals. This is amazing.” She danced around happily, and Daphne couldn't help but smile again, too. Always so upbeat, she was. Maybe it'd be nice to actually hug her after.
But that probably wouldn't ever happen.
“Did you ever vaccinate her?” Candle Light asked. “Both ways, I mean. She could get seriously hurt without them. I wouldn’t want her to miss being in Equestria if something happened.” She looked like she wanted to pick Aurora up, but of course couldn’t, being just a holograph.
“I know. I probably will soon,” Daphne told her, her voice still just as choked and cracked as it was when she was talking to Pete. Her hands never stopped shaking, her heart still beating at a million miles an hour. Why was real life like this? It was going to happen to Aurora next, and she knew it. It happened to everyone else in her life.
“Are you okay, Nighty?” Candle Light asked as she turned back to her, echoing concern in her voice. Daphne rolled her neck and tried to shake the tension loose from her limbs.
Her nerves were completely fried, but she might have had something there right now, while Candle Light was here and she worried about Aurora. Would she have the same nerve later, when the inevitable came? It was going to come; it always did, stealing away everyone she cared about.
And she sort of had an ace in the hole right now anyway—herself.
“I’m fine,” she said as she took out the second syringe and picked up Aurora again. Before she could think about it for too long, Daphne stole herself and carefully pressed the needle into the back of her baby’s neck. She made a choked noise that sounded like she was about to start crying, but Daphne carefully shushed her and kissed her forehead. A second later, the syringe was back out and being tossed into the trash.
Candle Light breathed a loud sigh of relief, and looked like any tension she might have had before melted away. “Oh, thank you, Nighty,” she said gratefully. “I’m so glad you’ll be here with us, and Aurora, too.” She smiled brightly, and told her, “I know you’ll both like it here. It might be a few decades before either of you see it, but I’m sure you’ll love it. I can’t wait to hug you for real.”
Daphne couldn’t help but suppress a small smile at that idea. Not that she was going to use the last syringe on herself, not yet. If Candle Light was insistent about it not taking effect immediately, then Daphne could hold herself hostage in case something happened to Aurora. Not that it would’ve entirely mattered either way around. If Daphne used it on herself and not Aurora, they both would be dead either way without the other.
Or maybe she was just being self centered and stupid again and doing all she could to avoid Equestria. She didn’t even know why she was at this point. Her father had done everything he could every single step of the way, never abandoning her, even for a second. She trusted him more than anyone else.
Daphne didn’t even need to hold herself hostage. Just like Candle Light said, nothing seemed to happen with Aurora over the next few minutes, or the following hours, days, and weeks. Daphne still didn’t use it on herself though; there was no guarantee this was a trick to lull her into a false sense of security and get her to take the bait. She should have—she knew that in her heart of hearts. If something happened to her like happened to Pete, she would be dead, guaranteed, and then if Equestria was real, Aurora would be alone. It made Daphne cry just to think about.
Candle Light explained to her that if something did happen to Daphne, the mare could step in and have Celestia emigrate Aurora immediately, a thought that made the girl nervous. Could Candle Light just say that at any time? She didn’t know, but the mare never did. Just as always, her father was nothing but fully caring and kind and always respected Daphne’s wishes.
The mare did start to come by more often, showing off an advanced robot that she could use as a stand in for actually being back on Earth. It was needed, because Daphne was now a single mother who had to work to provide for her daughter. Candle Light came by a few times a week to play with Aurora and take care of her. As a pony, of course.
It was… nice. A nice change of pace to being alone and stressing out and worrying about everything. Candle Light told Daphne about what was going on in her life—about her new husband and Daphne’s other mother and Warm Spell and Sweeping Skies and Silver Light. From the sounds of it, they were all having the time of their lives. Her mother had aged to be about sixty years old, and Sweeping Skies was close to being in her fifties and running a corporate office in her shard. Warm Spell stopped aging around her late twenties and adventured around Equestria, while Silver Light flatly refused to move past eighteen years old. He was like Candle Light, she heard; they both relaxed and took it easy and did nothing all day. It sounded a lot like how Daphne would enjoy spending her time.
And yet here she was, actively risking it by refusing to inject herself, too. She would make Candle Light cry if something happened to her. Daphne kept herself up some nights worrying about it.
It was a particularly nice day when her worries finally came true. It was raining outside, nice and gentle, the water droplets tapping rhythmically against the window when Candle Light showed up to watch Aurora. Her daughter, as usual, cheered at the mare’s arrival, then ran up to hug Daphne tightly as she got dressed for another day on the job. She was getting bigger now, ready to turn four years old next month.
“I love you,” she told her as Candle Light laughed softly at the scene. “When you come back, Nonny?” ‘Nonny’ was Aurora’s term for Daphne, a stand-in for either ‘mommy’ or ‘daddy’.
“Later tonight, sweetie,” she told her daughter as she put on a poncho before picking the toddler up and kissing her cheek. “Love you lots. Make sure you have fun with Grandma, okay?”
“Okay, Nonny! I will!” the girl assured her with a bright smile and an eager nod. Then Daphne moved to hug Candle Light and give her an assurance of love, too, before heading out to the rig. This little life she had was… not bad, all things considered. Almost nice, even. It would’ve been even better with Pete still around—she wished she would’ve appreciated him more before everything that happened—but it was still good, spending time with her small family. She might even have begun to look forward to each new day that she’d spend time with Aurora and Candle Light, even if she was still terribly afraid.
She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t even make it all the way to work before disaster struck again.
Cars were something of a rarity in Williston by the twenties. There were one or two rolling down the street, but beyond that, no one really wanted to waste the oil when the town could be largely walked without issue. It meant that Daphne wasn’t particularly paying attention when what had to be a sports car screamed down the road and crashed into her. It didn’t even stop after it hit her, continuing along like nothing even happened.
Daphne flew up into the air and landed on her back in the grass on the side of the road. She barely felt any pain if she felt it at all. She was in shock. Her eyes were wide as she took herself in, the rain falling onto her a little harder now than it did before. She was more than a little injured—she looked worse now than Pete did. She was bruised and bloodied and certainly had broken bones, and worse. She could barely move her left hand, and her right shook badly. How was she not in pain?
It took a few seconds for it to set in. A sharp, burning pain enveloped her whole body, forcing her eyes closed as she winced. It hurt to simply breathe, her chest feeling like it was crushed, her ribs on fire. If Pete didn't survive his wounds, there was no way she was going to survive hers.
She reached into her hoodie for the syringe. It was still intact, remarkably enough, but just gripping it was a struggle. She didn't know if she would have the strength to bring it to her neck. Why hasn't she just trusted Candle Light a little more and used it on herself earlier? It wasn't even that she didn't trust her. She had no idea why she didn't want to.
No idea besides fear.
Her left hand still didn't move. Daphne had to use her teeth to pull the syringe cap off, exposing the needle. How could a little thing like this save her? Her hand was still shaking badly as she struggled to breathe. What if she couldn't do it?
She felt herself starting to fade, in and out as blackness took up her vision. Her hand fell to her side and the syringe rolled out of her grasp. She couldn't even do this one thing right. Just one thing. And she couldn't do it. She didn’t deserve Equestria, after everything she kept screwing up in her life.
There was a van in the distance, and a pony stepping out. It wasn't Candle Light, or Celestia, or anyone Daphne couldn't say she recognized. But he seemed familiar. And he was coming up to her. Why was he doing that?
He wasn't recognizable in the slightest, except for his voice, but she couldn't quite put together from where. Her head was pounding from after it smacked into the dirt. She was certain she would've figured it out in other circumstances, even if it was only two words he offered her.
“Can I?” he asked softly, carefully picking up the syringe as he turned her head over in his hooves. How was he able to do that with his hooves? Not like she'd ever know. She was hurting so much. How much of that was physical?
She was barely able to give a single nod before she felt the needle poking into the back of her neck. Barely able to look up to see that he was about to cry. But he was smiling?
“Thanks, Daffie,” he sniffed. “See you there.” She might not have been quite sure who he was, but she guessed it was possible. Where would she even go though?
Daphne didn't really remember the rest of what she was thinking of. Her head was spinning, so she closed her eyes to rest for a little while. She felt tired now.