The Voice of Reason

by Pascoite

Rating: everyone
Tags: Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Sad, Drama, Dinky Hooves, Big Macintosh, Derpy Hooves
Length: 5846

Everypony is her own worst critic, but few take it to the extreme that Derpy does. Still, where friendship and magic abound, a helping hoof is never far away, if only she'll reach out and take it.

Everypony is her own worst critic, but few take it to the extreme that Derpy does. Still, where friendship and magic abound, a helping hoof is never far away, if only she'll reach out and take it.

Featured on Equestria Daily!

Thanks to PresentPerfect and NTSTS for feedback.

Published 2013-09-16 21:40:02 UTC
Last updated 2013-09-16 21:40:02 UTC

The Voice of Reason

What’d you screw up this time, Derpy?

“Nothing,” she mumbled into her pillow.

You can’t hide from it. It’ll go easier on you if you just admit what you did.

“Why do you always accuse me?” Derpy wriggled out from under her sheet and stretched her back legs.

Whose fault would it be? One of the normal ponies?

Derpy had no answer. She never did.

She might as well get up and try to leave those thoughts behind. Most days, they’d only pop up as an occasional nuisance, but not today, of course. That would have been fair. If only she could shake them off…

She opened her eyes, rolled out of bed, and gave a strong wingbeat, in the hope that it might drive away the bad aura that clung to her like a stench. Maybe work would be loud today. Maybe it would be loud enough to drown out that voice.

She stood in front of the mirror, ran a brush through her mane, and considered heading to the kitchen for some breakfast. But no. She started on her tail instead. Better to get to work early so she wouldn’t show up late for her appointment. She’d lost her appetite, anyway.

Who’d trust you with a foal? They’d deserve more of the blame than you. At least they should know better.

“No. I’m going to adopt her. And then you’ll shut up.” She yanked the brush through a tangle and winced. “I’ll have somepony else to care for. You can’t stop me from loving her.” The mirror scowled back at her.

Dinky’s smiling face pictured clearly in her mind, Derpy trotted for the door. The voice had nothing to say to that. It couldn’t. It’d never convince her that Dinky was anything less than perfect. As much as it wanted, it could talk about her—she’d long since learned to endure those thoughts and put on a smile—but it knew better than to insult Dinky.

She’s going to end up just like you.

Derpy’s heart skipped a beat, and the tingle in her chest made her cough. She stomped her way out the door and slammed it behind her. Noise. More noise, so she couldn’t hear that awful voice. And she needed to empty her mind. Numb silence. It was only there when she thought. Don’t think! Just wander through the day and don’t think!

A quick pause on the front stoop, a steadying breath, and Derpy unclenched her jaw. Who better than Derpy to make sure Dinky grew up as different from her as possible? The corners of her eyes burned, but she wouldn’t give in and lose control. She wouldn’t.

She hoped she hadn’t awakened Carrot Top with all that racket.

As the Children’s Services worker jotted down a few more notes, Derpy fiddled with her hooves. She stared at the same little tear in the seat’s fabric that she noticed every visit.

The first time, when she’d signed up as a volunteer at the children’s home; the second, while filling out the initial paperwork to apply as an adoptive parent; and after who knows how many appointments, when she’d smiled as big as she ever had and simply said, “Dinky.” And always with that soft pencil-scratching, picking a hoof at the ripped upholstery, and a little larger grin than before.

Until today, at least. Her smile gone, electricity nipping at her nerves. Did it have to be so hot in here? The rushed flight from work probably hadn’t helped.

Derpy brushed a bead of sweat off her neck, but then froze. That wouldn’t do. She had to seem confident. Folded hooves, good posture. Her skin felt like it was buzzing.

“I think,” her mouth said of its own accord, “I focus so much better when I’m around Dinky. It’s like... she makes me a better pony, and... I feel better with her around.” That sounded okay. Derpy gave a little nod and looked back across the small industrial desk.

The agent paused for a moment, then continued scribbling away at her sheet, a thin frown on her face. She finished writing and looked up, her eyes flicking back and forth until they settled on the one of Derpy’s own eyes that pointed more or less her way.

Through the years, Derpy had certainly gotten used to that reaction: indecision, then a small spasm in the throat when they considered apologizing, but held it in. At least her eyes had a use sometimes. The one aimed at the desktop could make out a bit of the scrawled notes: “concerned that she may be adopting for the wrong reasons.”

See? You’re going to talk yourself out of the one thing that might make you happy.

There was that buzzing feeling in her skin again, and she could hear it now, like her teeth were rattling. “I mean...” She couldn’t let herself get frustrated. Her heart felt like it might thud out of her chest. She needed to stay calm and think about Dinky. Another deep breath, in through the nose. “I’m looking forward to being the mare she inspires me to be. I have to do that for her, because she deserves it. She’s—” Derpy closed her eyes and hunched her shoulders up, then let them slump again, slowly “—a little angel.”

The buzzing stopped for a moment, and Derpy sank into the silence. True silence for a change, no voice, just peace. She could hang in that limbo forever.

“We’ll be in touch, Derpy.” The social worker turned to mark one last thought on her paperwork. After all the times they’d met, Derpy couldn’t dredge up her name. She was in the way, and Derpy couldn’t see the page anymore, but at least that little frown had disappeared.

Maybe that was a good sign. Had Derpy done enough, or had she screwed this up too? Here came the buzzing again, worse this time.

Derpy mouthed some kind of good-bye, staggered down a hallway toward sunlight. The sky spun and wobbled, and Derpy breathed hard against the tightness in her chest. Lightheaded too. Wind rushing for the longest time, then a dull pressure on her hooves and something warm like a blanket over her. Wait, where was she? Derpy looked up at the clock. Her clock. About seven, and a faint light outside. Morning or evening? She’d... made it home somehow, but didn’t remember how the bits of cloud clinging to her mane had gotten there.

Dinky. Her appointment. Would Dinky be allowed to come home with her next week?

That mare was right. You only want Dinky because of what she can do for you. You’re so selfish.

“No.” Derpy shook her head and clenched her eyes shut, then stumbled to the kitchen for breakfast. Or dinner. She still didn’t know which.

“No.” Maybe if she said it enough times, it’d be true.

Derpy blinked rapidly a few times as she stood in the doorway, Dinky’s faint breathing just audible in the dark of her bedroom. Sometimes she had to remind herself, after all it had taken her to get here, how amazing that simple fact was: her daughter. “It’s time,” Derpy whispered. Getting no response, she tried again, a little louder. “Dinky?”

Then a slow rustle of sheets and a groaned reply: “Mom?”

“Yes, Dinky. We have to go if we want to beat the crowd.”

“Mmhmm.” A sneeze broke the ensuing silence. Dinky slid off her bed, made a beeline for Derpy, and nuzzled her neck. “This’ll be the best one yet!”

Wrapping a foreleg around her daughter, Derpy gave her a squeeze, then led the way out of the house. They trotted along quietly, but they didn’t need to talk to each other this morning. It was enough to be together on this special occasion. That little high-pitched yawn, the sleep-fogged eyes straining down each alley for a glimpse of the approaching dawn, the way she’d scamper ahead a few paces, then wait for Derpy to catch up.

Another Summer Sun Celebration, a few years since the last time Ponyville had hosted one, and many more years since her first one here. A lot of things had changed in all that time, but so much was still the same. Back then, Derpy’d trotted alongside her own mother in the morning glow. Now, she closed her eyes momentarily and envisioned a taller, more confident Dinky leading her own little one down a banner-lined boulevard toward the sunrise. Her heart lifted at the same reassurance Derpy got every new day: Her daughter. Her daughter.

She watched Dinky angle her nose up and take in the wood smoke from the first cooking fires in the square. Derpy chuckled and shook her head. It took a child to cut through to the simple things that made the strongest connections, and that one in particular: from her own childhood, hickory and alderwood smoke wafting over the grills laden with onions, peppers, mushrooms... Her mouth was watering already.

A rosy glow permeated the town by the time they’d reached the children’s entrance, and after getting her hoof stamped with ink, Dinky gave Derpy one last hug, then scurried off into the growing crowd of foals. She’d get a great view of the sunrise, and Princess Celestia always greeted each filly and colt individually. Nopony deserved that more than Dinky.

Yeah, she deserves a lot for putting up with you.

Derpy missed a step and almost tripped. Maybe so, but whatever the reason, Derpy would never accept second best for her daughter.

Then why didn’t you let a better parent have her?

Derpy shook her head. Not today. Nothing would ruin this day. She trotted past streamers, bunting, and balloons tied to any convenient anchoring point, each new piece of adornment drawing the corners of her mouth up higher. All of the committees—well, Pinkie Pie headed every one of them—had arranged wonderful decorations and great-smelling food, and had lined up several bands. She finally let a grin relax into shape as she neared the adults’ entrance to the roped-off area of the town square. Ticket holders only past this point. She pulled hers out from where she’d stashed it under her wing and brandished that little scrap of paper. It meant she was important, that she was worthy.

The attendant ripped it in two, each half bearing Derpy’s neatly printed name, and tossed one into a large glass bowl. In a way, the stub she got back had become something more through being torn—potential made into proof.

Through the gate, and Derpy imagined herself hurrying after her mother again. She hadn’t missed a Summer Sun Celebration for as long as she could remember, no matter where in Equestria. The small-town ones were always her favorites. Not too fancy and just enough charm. The Canterlot events always felt like everything had to follow a script. Here, ponies were more interested in having fun. Wherever it took her, it came at a price, though—the Summer Sun Celebration had always been a hot ticket, and the admission alone cost her a month’s salary, to say nothing of transportation or hotel expenses, but well worth it, of course. Her own little treat to herself.

Tucked behind her ear now, the ticket stub flapped in the breeze. This... would probably be her last year. Dinky was still young enough to get in free, but just barely, and Derpy couldn’t afford tickets for both of them. All these years, never missing one, but it’d end this year. It’d all end. She glanced back at that last ticket stub lost among others in the glass bowl, now receding far into the distance.

Dinky deserves everything, except for a little extra cost, apparently. You’d really deny her that?

Derpy fought down her pointless rebuttal. Naturally, she couldn’t assume the voice would leave her alone all day, but she’d dealt with it before, and she could deal with it again. The day had started out so well, too, without her thoughts getting all bunched up and caught on each other. She headed straight for the refreshment tables and waved to a few ponies she recognized on the way: Flitter, Thunderlane, Rainbow Dash...

See how they only acknowledge you when you wave first? They’re not happy to see you. They’ll just put up with you as long as you keep walking past.

“Hi, Derpy!” Carrot Top shouted, and Derpy perked her ears toward the sound. A smile had enough time to form halfway before—the two mares with Carrot Top whispered something between themselves and glanced at her. Derpy took a step their way, but… no, she couldn’t do that to her only friend. Derpy was used to ponies whispering about her, but she didn’t want them whispering about Carrot Top too.

Derpy settled for waving back, then grabbed a single muffin—she needed to pace herself—and found an out-of-the-way hay bale that might make a nice seat. Yes, she could see into the children’s area, where Dinky had joined some classmates in the bounce house, and this spot had a pretty good view of the stage. In fact, Princess Celestia had just started up the stairs, and the sun lingered a hair’s breadth below the horizon.

Derpy let out a deep breath, bit into her muffin, and waited in silence with everypony else. Every one of them caught in mid-action, the whole world suspended in that moment between what was and what could be, all possibilities open. Princess Celestia hung in the air, at once eclipsing the distant radiance and becoming it, and it was beautiful. Truly beautiful—that one minute of tangible peace that Derpy could guarantee herself each year. She choked down a rush of tears and smiled. She smiled, and she meant it.

Derpy had only risen from her seat a few times all day, when she needed something more to eat. That was okay. Today, she didn’t need to do anything. The experience made the memory.

She flared her nostrils and took in the dancing odors: roasted corn, delicate cotton candy, even a bit of sweat. Not that sweat appealed to her on its own, but... well, she didn’t necessarily like every ingredient in a stew, either, even though the total had a special character to it.

Eyes gently closed, Derpy imagined herself floating, wrapped up in those sensations. The wonderful scents, children laughing, the taste of a muffin lingering on her tongue, even the occasional strange chill that ran up her back in the humid air. Some ponies cared too much about getting into the middle of the action and didn’t savor the experience. Watching everypony else having fun was fun, too.

And with the setting sun about to touch the horizon, it was time. Princess Luna had begun her meditation to raise the Summer Moon. Over by the head table, an enormous cake sat with the ceremonial knife nearby, waiting for somepony to cut the attending dignitaries’ pieces. An empty seat in the reserved area of the bleachers lay ready for an occupant to enjoy the Wonderbolts’ evening show. By the open space in the center of it all, the band stood ready to accompany the traditional first dance. And on the stage, Princess Celestia held two lifetime passes to the Summer Sun Celebration. One lucky pony would get to do it all.

Those passes sure would be useful, but the rest didn’t really interest Derpy. They should go to somepony nice who would really enjoy them. Somepony who didn’t mind the attention. She hoped Carrot Top would win.

Yes, whenever you get attention, it’s because you’ve screwed up again.

Princess Celestia flicked on the microphone and rummaged a hoof through the glass bowl with all the ticket stubs, and everypony in the crowd pulled out their halves to check for a match. Except Derpy. She formed the sound in her mind of the Princess announcing Carrot Top’s name. That would be perfect.

“And the honorary Grand Marshal of this year’s Summer Sun Celebration is...” The Princess held up the ticket in front of her face and made a show of straining to read it as the band accommodated her theatrics with a drumroll. “Derpy!”

Dead silence.

Derpy’s knees shook, and her breath rasped. A few ponies glanced from her to the large cake knife.

They’re wondering how many ponies will get hurt. Can you blame them?

The band members leaned their heads in and murmured something, then a few nods.

When you can’t keep the beat, they’re just going to play on. It’ll end sooner that way.

Derpy’s eyes flitted around at any faces she recognized in the crowd. Caramel stared at his hooves, Thunderlane studied the clouds on the horizon, Noteworthy stepped behind a wagon... Even the mares. All except Carrot Top.

Who gets the honor of that dance? Look at all of them. They’d rather be anywhere but here right now. You could pick Carrot Top, but if you wouldn’t even inflict that on somepony who doesn’t like you, why would you do it to her?

“No.” Derpy’s hoarse, trembling whisper carried throughout the square. She turned and ran.

Derpy heard slow hoofsteps at the end of the alley where she lay huddled by a trash bin, her face hidden in her forelegs. From over at the festivities, loud shouts and cheers echoed. They were having an awful lot of fun without her. How long had it taken them to start up again after she’d left? Probably right away. At least the sounds were muffled here. She didn’t look up.

“You... doin’ okay?” Big Macintosh asked. She didn’t answer.

“Look, Carrot Top was frantic, and we had to calm her down ’fore she’d tell us anythin’, which wasn’t much,” he said softly. “She—” he sighed, and she heard him shift his weight “—had some... suspicions, but she was ’bout to hyperventilate again, and I told her I’d come find you.”

She thought she’d kept it hidden. But Carrot Top knew? And now everypony did. Derpy swallowed hard.

“She said you wouldn’t figure anypony’d wanna dance with you. But I want you to know that ain’t true. Fact, I’d be honored if you’d let me dance with you.”

“You don’t have to,” she said into her hooves.

Maybe you should take him up on that offer. A pity dance is better than no dance at all. At least you can’t embarrass him here.

Derpy sniffled and waited. Eventually, he’d get bored or take the hint. Either way, he’d leave. Except he didn’t. She supposed she had his tacit answer, but was he responding to her or the voice? Could he hear it, too?

“Carrot Top was really worried ’bout you. A bunch of us were. She would’ve come, but like I said, I thought it might be better for me to. Plus, if you don’t mind, I was serious ’bout that dance. Ain’t right for you to miss out on it.” His hooves shuffled in the dirt. “If you don’t mind.”

Derpy gathered her breath to tell him to go away, but she couldn’t make herself say it. Not if there was a chance. Why couldn’t she decide?

She felt a tug on her foreleg, pulling her to her hooves. “C’mon,” Big Mac urged her. Funny how he said that after he’d gotten her up. As if she had a choice. As if he cared what her answer might be.

Unbidden tears coursed down her cheeks. Oh, how it felt good to fool herself that he might offer her a genuine touch, a kind gesture. For those few seconds, she found a peace she’d rarely known before. But of course, it couldn’t last.

“They—they all just wanted to laugh at me, like always!” she said through her sob. “Everypony was scared of what I’d do with that knife, the band didn’t want their music going to waste, ponies hid so I wouldn’t choose them to dance...”

And you, blabbing all this to somepony who couldn’t care less. They’ll all have a nice laugh when he goes back and tells them about it.

“Naw, Derpy,” he said, taking her by the shoulders. “You don’t understand.”

“Don’t you say that!” The hoof she’d raised halfway in case his offer to dance was in earnest instead swatted him away. “Everypony always tells me what I can and can’t understand. I’m sick of it! Just leave me alone with my daughter—oh, no!” The color drained from her face, and she plopped back down on her haunches. The one thing in her life that gave it meaning, and she’d forgotten...

“Dinky! I-I have to... Oh, please let her be okay!” As much as she tried to will herself into action, she couldn’t lift her trembling body from the dirt. The voice. It didn’t need to speak. It was right. She’d say it herself.

“I left her!” she cried. “I left her!” She tried to stand on wobbling legs, but she only succeeded in banging her shoulder on the trash bin. It didn’t hurt nearly enough.

“Derpy, it’s okay.” Big Mac reached for her again, but she backed away.

“It’s not okay!” She rubbed her bruise, and maybe she even pressed on it. That social worker had been right all those years ago. “My daughter. My daughter,” she said, jabbing a hoof at her chest. She couldn’t be any clearer than that. Why didn’t he understand?

Big Mac held Derpy by the shoulders again and shook her gently. It startled her just enough to silence her for a moment, but her lip still trembled. “Derpy, Dinky is fine.”

She sniffled and drew a hoof across her nose. “No... No, I-I have to—”

He jostled her a little harder. “Derpy, you don’t understand.”

Her jaw set, she took a few rapid, rasping breaths. How dare he tell her that! She’d already made it clear—

“No, Derpy. I don’t mean it like that. Carrot Top is seein’ Dinky home. Don’t you fret about her. She’s right as rain.” She could feel him staring at her, and she finally swallowed hard and looked him in the eye. If he had a brain in his head, he’d notice the fire in her eyes and tread lightly. “I said you didn’t understand. Never said you couldn’t.”

Well, no, but... “Dinky’s okay?”

“Eeyup. That’s what friends and neighbors are for. And to the rest o’ that: everypony was just lookin’ forward to some cake, and the band was decidin’ whether to play somethin’ you’d dance on the ground or in the air. And who was hidin’?” He cocked his head and raised an eyebrow.

Derpy held back a breath. He had awfully convenient answers. And did he really want to know who? Her shoulders slumped. She couldn’t exactly make this any worse. “Caramel,” she grunted. “Thunderlane. Noteworthy. Everypony. Except Carrot Top.”

Closing his eyes, Big Mac sighed and folded his ears back. “Caramel can’t dance a lick and was afraid ponies’d find out. Thunderlane can’t ever keep his mind on one thing, and was prob’ly thinkin’ ’bout work. And I called Noteworthy back to help me unload another couple o’ cider kegs.”

“How do you know all that?” she said. “If you were busy with the cider, how did you even see it?”

“Derpy, I...” He brushed his forelock out of his face and rolled his eyes up at the stars. “To be honest, I don’t. I know about the band, because I was helpin’ set up yesterday and heard ’em yakkin’ ’bout it then. And I know ’bout Noteworthy, ’cause I’m the one who called him. But maybe Caramel and Thunderlane were avoidin’ you. Maybe ponies were makin’ jokes about the knife. I don’t know.”

Big Mac gently brushed a few of the tears off her cheek. “Point is, you can’t assume that. There’re perfectly good explanations either way—don’t pounce on the one that makes it so everypony’s bein’ hurtful to you. You really think we’d all be so petty ’n’ mean? Shoot, I catch ponies doin’ that, and I’d run ’em out o’ town myself. Matter o’ fact—”

“No,” she muttered, so softly that she could scarcely hear it herself. Derpy’s wide-eyed gaze wandered to the ground. It didn’t happen like that. It wasn’t that she assumed bad intentions from everypony. “That’s just... how I feel, too. About myself. That’s what the voice says.”

His hoof flinched, and the silence pressed in on her. “Derpy...”

A few fresh teardrops dotted the ground. Everypony knew everything now. Dinky would know...

“Carrot Top didn’t figure it was that bad...” he said under his breath. A few hoofsteps echoed in the alley. She heard soft breath next to her and smelled grass, apples, sawdust... and numbness.

“Derpy, you need to—please—” He exhaled sharply and rubbed a hoof down his muzzle. “Talk to somepony, Derpy—somepony who knows what they’re doin’. I wanna help—I really do—but I know better’n to mess with somethin’ I don’t know ’nuff about.”

Derpy didn’t need help. Ponies got help when they were sick. They felt something out of place and went to the doctor. She’d do that for a fever, a sprained wing, a burn. But not for being the same Derpy she’d always been.

“Please, Derpy. Promise me. I do know enough to say it ain’t s’posed to work that way.”

It’d always worked that way. Why would it work any other way? “You barely know me,” she said.

“And I still care.” Big Mac patted her hoof. “What’s that tell you?”

She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“C’mon,” he said again as he hauled her to her feet. “You ain’t ever answered me. I’d be much obliged if I could trouble you for a dance.”

Derpy held her breath and nodded. He didn’t laugh. In fact, he stood on his hind legs and wrapped a foreleg around her waist. An encouraging grin, a brief nod at her first step, a gentle pressure guiding her. And alone in the dimness, they danced.

Side to side they swayed, spinning slowly, and all to a quiet country waltz that he hummed. She stumbled more than once, tripped over her own hooves, and even bumped into an empty rain barrel, knocking it over. But each time, he held her up and adjusted his music to her quirky rhythm.

She finally found her voice again. “Who... got to do everything?”

“Carrot Top. We all decided.”

“Good. Good, she deserves it.”

“Except the lifetime passes.” Big Mac got back on all fours and tugged his ticket stub out from under his collar, then held it up for her to see. It had “Derpy” scrawled across it, but... that wasn’t her mouthwriting. She felt behind her ear, and her own ticket was still perched there.

“How...?”

“A bunch of us did it, Derpy. Carrot Top asked us to help, and we put your name on our tickets.” She gaped at his broad smile. “That’s what I was ’bout to say before... before you told me...”

He cleared his throat and scratched at the back of his neck. “We figured there were enough of us to have a good shot at it.” Big Mac raised her chin and met her gaze with a smile. “Dinky’s a lucky filly. She’s gonna turn out just as sweet as you.”

She waited a few seconds to see what the voice had to say. It always argued with her, but it’d never had the opportunity to argue with anypony else.

It remained silent. She almost wanted it to say something, just so she’d know things were back to normal. Just so things wouldn’t have to change. She needed to hear what was wrong with her. She wouldn’t know otherwise! Breath caught in her throat, panting, head swimming.

“Please!”

Big Mac jumped at her outburst and wrinkled his brow. He didn’t understand. He couldn’t.

She curled her forelegs around him and pressed her face into his neck, tears trickling from her closed eyes. And they danced.

Derpy scanned over her kitchen table and made sure she had all the ingredients she needed. Halfway down the list, her eyes went out of focus, and as had happened so much lately, her thoughts turned back to that night in the alley.

“Please tell me you’ll talk to somepony who can help you,” Big Mac said when they’d parted company. “Do it for Dinky.”

She’d nodded immediately at the mention of her daughter. She’d nodded so he’d let it go.

Derpy ground her teeth and found her place in the recipe again. It didn’t take long for her stare to wander out the window.

The day after she’d danced with Big Macintosh, she’d seen him having a hushed conversation with Carrot Top in the marketplace. The following weeks had taught Derpy the true meaning of persistence. Any time Carrot Top could turn the conversation, every opportunity to drop a hint, she’d take it, but never overbearing—just a gentle smile and a light touch on her shoulder. And finally she’d said that Dinky needed this as much as Derpy did. If it had been anypony else but Carrot Top…

She’d nodded immediately at the mention of her daughter. She’d nodded so Carrot Top wouldn’t have that look in her eyes anymore, like she might give to the neighbor who’d just watched her house burn.

Derpy sighed and rechecked the measuring cup of sugar. If she made a mistake anywhere, it was usually putting in too much sugar. Her eyes—both of them, for once—gazed back at her from the glass rim.

Late last month, when Dinky had asked why mommy went to a doctor every week, Carrot Top said she would explain. Derpy had pleaded with her not to burden Dinky with things that a child shouldn’t have to handle, and Carrot Top had promised to be very discreet. “Dinky deserves to be part of your healing,” she’d said.

She’d nodded immediately at the mention of her daughter. She’d nodded for Dinky, for Carrot Top... and for the first time in her life, she’d nodded for herself.

Derpy had to admit that things had gotten a little better. Her nerves had the edge taken off them, and for her part, Dinky only knew to be sure that mommy felt loved.

But that voice still had a vicious bite sometimes.

Derpy took a deep breath and stirred a few crushed walnuts into her bowl of batter before mashing two bananas and adding them to the mix. One more dash of cinnamon, nutmeg, and... there! She balanced the bowl between her wings and headed over to where her muffin pan sat on the counter.

One eye trailed off, and Derpy caught a leg on the corner of the kitchen table, sending her crashing to the floor. The stainless steel bowl clattered over the tiles, and the batter splashed onto the oven door, the cabinets, the stepladder…

Stupid!

She scrambled to swipe the oozing mess back into the bowl as quickly as she could. Fortunately, she kept the floor spotless, because... well, she couldn’t exactly call this a rare occurrence. Experience had taught her to assume that something would go awry. And right on cue—

What’s wrong with you, Derpy? Can’t you do anything right?

“Are you okay, Mom?” Dinky called from the next room. “Do you need help?”

Lots. More than she could give you.

“I’m fine,” Derpy answered. She clenched her jaw and swallowed hard. “It’s okay. Keep going on your homework.” She poured the batter over the pan’s individual impressions, slid it into the oven, and bent down with a rag to clean up the remaining mess. By the time she’d finished, a sweet aroma permeated the house. She closed her eyes and took a sniff and smiled at the off-key humming in the next room. She really smiled.

And then Derpy knocked her mixing bowl to the floor again. She winced at the sound, gritted her teeth, and waited...

How many times can you make the same mis—?

“That smells yummy, Mom!”

Derpy’s eyes jerked open, and she froze. That had been happening a lot lately. How that filly had developed her impeccable sense of timing, Derpy would never know. Maybe she’d get one of those hourglass cutie marks that seemed so popular.

“Mom, I’m having trouble with this reading assignment. Can you help me?”

Of course you can’t. When were you ever good at homew—?

“You always take your time explaining it to me. You don’t rush me like everypony else.” Derpy heard a few pages flip and the rattle of teeth against a pencil. “It’s easier to get it with you.”

“Sure, Dinky. Be right there.” Derpy took a step toward the den, but stopped short and sagged her shoulders. She’d forgotten to set the timer.

She guessed her muffins had been in the oven for about ten minutes, and with her years of baking know-how, she could tell when they were done by the faint change in smell, anyway. She hadn’t messed anything up; she needed to believe that. After a cleansing breath, she strolled over and sat next to her daughter on the couch.

“What’s this word mean, Mom? Aurum,” Dinky said, testing its feel as she scrunched up her face.

From deep in her memory, Derpy dredged up some scrap of having seen that word. One of Princess Celestia’s speeches, a delivery to the museum, a book of poetry... The context was lost, but she had the nugget she needed. “Oh. That’s an old word for ‘gold,’ sweetie.”

“Like your eyes!” Dinky said, breaking into a wide grin.

Those horrible things? Who could—?

“I love your eyes! They always sparkle and make me feel warm.” Dinky reached up and hugged her mother’s neck, her ears perking up.

For a moment, Derpy’s spine stiffened. Then she returned the gesture, her forelegs defrosting, melting, running around Dinky’s shoulders. “You’re getting better at that,” she said, tousling Dinky’s mane.

“Better at what?” Dinky asked, her brow creased.

“Never mind. Hey, why don’t we eat our muffins outside today? The weather’s beautiful.” Dinky nodded back, but the longer Derpy watched her, the more Dinky’s smile faded. No need to make her uncomfortable. Derpy leaned in for another hug. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” There was that grin again.

Nopony lo—

“I love you, Mom.”

“I know. I love you, too.” She squeezed Dinky even more tightly.

And she did know. But that didn’t make it easy. Maybe the voice would speak up again later that day, maybe tomorrow. Maybe she’d fight it, and maybe she’d just clench her jaw and try to outlast it. She had her daughter, and every day improved a bit. She could even believe in a future without it. Whenever she did hear that voice, though, at least she knew now.

It was wrong.

Author's Note

Based on two minifics from earlier competitions, which are all in my anthology, Tales of Interest. Specifically, The Voice of Reason and Luck of the Draw.