//------------------------------//
// Chapter 8 
// Story: Beats of Life 
// by NightsongWrites 
//------------------------------//

Vinyl’s world, only hastily pieced together with wubs and the love of a group of amazing ponies, was crashing down around her. Her hooves held her head tightly, and Vinyl was only vaguely disgusted at being curled up on Lyra and Bon-Bon’s guest bathroom floor, the acrid scent of vomit and floor cleaner mixing in her nose. She had only just made it to the porcelain throne in time. When the first wave of nausea had hit, the sleepy DJ had thought it had just been a case of bad food from a food cart. But one little diagnosis spell…
“No, no, no,” Vinyl chanted over and over, desperately willing the magical light over her belly to change colors, “Not gold. Anything but gold.” 
Gold. The magical indicator of life. Life. Pregnancy… From them. Her emotions were a typhoon, swirling and destroying her brain. Tears flowed like rain, and as the pain grew, Vinyl’s raspy voice screamed a denial. Dimly, she could hear a scrambling of hooves, and the DJ curled in on herself even tighter, self-loathing only growing. Great, now she had woken up the others, and would make them worry. 
“No,” Vinyl whispered again, strength flooding her stubby limbs as she tried to rise to her hooves. 
She had to stop worrying them all the time, especially not… Octavia. A small sob tore out of her muzzle at the thought of the mare. The cellist who had saved her life. How would she react to this news? She would either be disgusted, or… or… Sudden panic seized her heart. Octavia would want to help her! She would want to get her a house, or throw all of her money and her ensemble’s money at her to ‘take care of it.’ Considering all Octavia had done so far… she had to get out of there before she ruined everything! 
With a flash of pain, her magic reached out to grab the doorknob, only for the telekinetic field to be blasted apart as the door flew open. Grey fur, wide purple eyes swimming in concern… Oct- Before Vinyl could scarcely move, strong forelegs locked around her neck, pulling her firmly to her slim chest. The dam she had hidden her emotions behind in the panic quickly cracked, broke apart, and flooded the hapless town of Heartsville. Wracking sobs wrenched out her Vinyl’s throat, and she buried her face deeply into Octavia’s neck. Octavia’s muzzle rubbed against Vinyl’s ear, and the gentle whispers sent shivers down Vinyl’s spine. 
“Just breathe, Vinyl,” she was pleading softly, tilting Vinyl’s head around so she could peer into her violet orbs, both a sea of confusion and worry, “What’s wrong? Did you have a nightmare?” 
If only it was just that. A weak whimper bubbled out of Vinyl’s lips, and she could feel herself starting to lose control once more. If she was going to tell her, she had to do it at that moment.
“I-I’m pregnant,” she whispered in the soft, weak voice of the utterly despondent. 
The dumbstruck look on Octavia’s face, and the chorus of stunned gasps from outside, shattered any control Vinyl had left, and she sunk against Octavia, screaming and sobbing her eyes out till darkness mercifully descended. Maybe this all was a nightmare, and she could wake up, safe at home, nursing a hangover…
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“Are you sure Ponyville will be the best place for her right now, Octavia?” 
Beauty Brass had always been the worrier of the group, Octavia remembered with a faint smile.
With a small nod, Octavia grunted as she shoved the last of Vinyl’s gear into the taxi’s trunk. It had taken several hours work to get it all into a carriable size, but they had managed. Vinyl was curled up in a ball of blankets, still asleep since her early morning panic attack. 
“I do, Beauty,” she replied softly, jumpy about any noise that could possibly wake Vinyl from her very-much needed rest, “I stayed in Ponyville for a summer break with my cousin. It’s a beautiful village, very quiet. I’m very sorry about missing the tour, but-” 
“Don’t say a word, Octavia,” Frederic interjected, smirking faintly, “We can manage the next few shows without you. Just worry about taking care of Vinyl.” 
Smiling softly in relief at her friends, Octavia nodded, quickly darting forward to give them all tight hugs. She would miss them greatly, but Vinyl still needed a good deal of healing, and she had made a promise to the mare. And with this new wrinkle to the plan… what would she do? Slipping into the taxi and glancing over at the sound asleep mare, Octavia let a sliver of doubt creep in. For just how long /was/ she willing to take care of Vinyl? Would she stick around and help with the foal too? Octavia did have a life of her own… but of course, if that were completely true, why had she stuck around so long in the first place? 
Was it duty to the little mare Octavia had found in that warehouse? Octavia reached a hoof to rub her chin, thoughtful eyes peering out at the cityscape as they rode by. Possibly, to an extent. But if it was simply duty, she could have left at the hospital, leaving Vinyl in their capable hooves. Affection? That was certainly possible. Vinyl was a good mare at heart, Octavia could see that plain as day. A little crass, possibly, but she hardly a ruffian like some in her line of work. What Vinyl had done at the concert was… Startled, Octavia watched herself blush in the mirror of the enclosed taxi, and she nervously bit down on her lip. Surely this affection was just platonic, a friendship… yes? 
A little pony in the back of her head smirked, and Octavia could practically feel a dainty hoof smacking the back of her head. Friendship was going through a concert at the urging of your friends because it will help you. It became more when you do… well… The blush only grew hotter as she remembered the two magical musical notes in the sky, the colors of Vinyl’s and Octavia’s cutie marks swirling together in the light breeze of the night, and the steady thumps of the bass and cello. Had that been Vinyl’s not-so-subtle message of her thoughts on their relationship? Was that a good thing… or not? 
A jerk in the taxi yanked Octavia clear out of her thoughts; they had arrived at the train station. Bemused, Octavia remembered why she had always enjoyed the rides in the enclosed chariots: it was so much easier to think in the quiet. Purple eyes flicked over to Vinyl; the little white mare was struggling back to consciousness, mouth stretching into a yawn, ears flattened and tail raised. Sweet Celestia she was adorable. With a small sigh, Octavia hopped out of the taxi, hissing at a faint bite of pain down her back and hindlegs. She would think more on their relationship on the train ride. And maybe… Ponyville will be good for both of them. 
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It always seemed to stun ponies that Octavia could be related in some part to the gigantic Apple family, the founders of both Ponyville and Appleloosa. Not that the prim cellist could entirely blame them, considering her strong Canterlotian accent and her ties to the nobility. But Octavia was not one to deny her roots, and had often stopped by Ponyville to visit her cousins; indeed, for one memorable summer, she had stayed with fellow musician Fiddlesticks, and had learned much in the way of folk and blues music. It wasn’t something that Octavia believed she would ever forget.
What she had forgotten, however, was that Fiddlestick’s cottage was rather… cramped. A single bedroom, a living room with no couch to be found, and a small kitchen, Fiddlesticks and Octavia had rarely spent much time there, preferring instead to play among the budding orchards of the Sweet Apple Acres, or around town to entertain the ponies and perhaps make a few bits for a stop at Sugarcube Corner. But with two injured mares now living in it, Octavia realized that she may just be getting a bit closer to Vinyl during this than she had realized. 
Paying the two kind stallions who had brought their luggage from the station, Octavia allowed herself to slump against the foyer wall. Exhaustion was clawing at her insides, trying to drag her down into blissful sleep. She, unlike Vinyl, had slept very little during the train ride, her mind far too occupied with an ever-increasing worry. The concerns on her career had eaten at her for quite awhile, though the knowledge that the rest of the ensemble stood beside her decision did much to salve over that particular wound. A new worry, however, had been that of her parents, whom she knew had to be becoming increasingly more worried as her letters grew less and less frequent. And while Octavia prided herself on her own open-mindedness and tolerance, her parents were far less so. Finding out that Octavia had let her career slip by taking care of some “degenerate” pony… Octavia was startled at the sudden rush of heat and anger that flared through her core, like a nova of Celestia’s sun. Degenerate. No. The stallions who had hurt Vinyl were the degenerates, not Vinyl. Never her. 
“O-octavia?” 
The cellist’s head snapped up, and her heart nearly stopped. The cabin had one large bay window in the main living room, and the sunlight from it shone just behind a sleepy-eyed Vinyl Scratch. Her mane, bedraggled and fluffed from her flip-flopping sleep, glowed like plasma, and her white mane shone radiantly. Her eyes, no longer blocked by glasses and filled with a soft shyness, peeked up at her. Octavia blushed as her more primal mare mind demanded she glomp the adorable pony in front of her, but she overrided it quickly. Now wasn’t the time for that, nor would she risk scaring Vinyl. 
“Vinyl,” she replied instead, giving a soft smile as she pushed off the wall, ignoring a stab of pain, “Are you okay? How’re you feeling?” 
The DJ gave a small shrug, looking down at the hardwood floor. Octavia bit her lip faintly. While Vinyl wasn’t as destroyed as before, the unexpected pregnancy seemed to have still left quite a bit of damage in its wake. After a moment of quick thought, Octavia darted forward, giving Vinyl’s cheek a soft nuzzle, grinning at the surprised look and blush. Keep her thoughts off it. 
“Why don’t we go out and let you see Ponyville?” she asked her softly, “It’s a beautiful hamlet, with very friendly ponies. I’m sure you’ll make more friends in no time, and I can show you some of my own favorite spots!” 
For a moment, Vinyl’s blank stare and faint tremble worried Octavia. Had she sprung too much on her at once? Perhaps staying with Lyra and Bon-Bon would have been more prudent at the time. But before Octavia could open her mouth to apologize, relief flooded Vinyl’s eyes, and the smaller mare darted forward, hugging Octavia’s neck and sobbing faintly. Tears flooded across Octavia’s fur, and she quickly hugged Vinyl back, nuzzling an ear soothingly. 
“T-that sounds a-awesome, Octy,” Vinyl whispered softly, a bit of life returning to her voice and her body, “I-I could k… ki… ..f-fight, for some pie.” 
“Sweet Apple Acres it is!”