I lie awake for hours, the four words I had said to Barbara ringing in my ears...

"I beg to differ," I whisper to myself, remembering how she had called me the chivalrous "good man"...

I shake my head and close my eyes to block out the darkness. Perhaps there was a day when I was a good man. But no more. Not after what I did...

I'm past that, I remind myself in the darkness of the night. I'm past that. It's over.

However, a snaking sensation in the back of my mind tells me that it shall never truly be over.

I swallow the air in my throat as I remember how she had begged...How she had begged for mercy, begged for me to let her go...

And a single tear rolls down my cheek as I remember how I had watched her eyes close, slowly, the pupils behind the lids dimming as her life faded...

That single tear is followed by a torrent of tears as I press my face into my pillow in an attempt to stifle the sounds, struggling to forget what I had done. Struggling to forget how much I had loved her...

There's a gentle knock on the door, and it opens a second later, followed by a frowning journalist named Barbara.

"Peter?" She calls, softly. "I was checking on the ponies, and I...I saw that Pinkie Pie wasn't in there. So, I checked in here, and...I heard you sobbing. Are you alright?"

I take a deep breath to collect myself, and force myself to smile at her. "Yeah," I chirp, wrestling my voice into a flat, unruffled tone. "I'm fine."

Barbara looks at me for a second more, and I look back at her. She seems to be contemplating something, and struggling to make some sort of decision.

Finally, she walks up to the bed, and slowly picks up Pinkie Pie, who is sleeping upside down on the other side of the bed. The pink pony (thankfully) doesn't wake up, and Barbara holds her in one arm as she gently touches her fingers to the back of my hand.

"I'll put Pinkie Pie back in her crib for you. And...if you need anything...I'll be just downstairs."

I nod, and watch with a painfully fake smile as she gently walks away, and closes the door behind her. Once it's clicked shut, I can hear her gentle footsteps going to the ponies' room, going down the steps, and back into her bedroom. I hear her door open and close, and I sigh as my shoulders sag.

I turn back to the pillow, but no more tears will come forth. The pillowcase is quite wet, so I turn it over as I flop back onto my back and stare at the ceiling once more.

I take a deep breath, and close my eyes.

"Peter, please..."

I squeezed her hand, my lips quivering as I stared down into her already-fading eyes. "No," I muttered. "No..."

"Just...give me mercy," she pleaded, her voice nothing but a drawn-out sigh. "Just...let me go..."

I shook my head, and rested my forehead on her shoulder as I sobbed, stroking her hand lovingly. "I can't..."

"Yes, you can," she said softly as she tucked a strand of stray hair behind my ear with a gentle, loving hand. "Please. Do it for me..."

This went on for about two hours, me sobbing against her shoulder and the young woman trying to convince me into doing what I could never do...

When I wake up, my eyes are full of tears.

I can remember each and every moment of that dream, like a crystal, each shattered piece standing frozen in time, like tears just about to hit the floor and shatter into a million pieces...

I somewhat hope that Barbara would walk through the door, or that one of my ponies would teleport into my arms. At least then, I could forget what happened all those years ago...

When neither happens, I sigh as I return to my state of tired depression as I struggle to understand why...

"Why?" She demanded, her voice choking as her eyes filled with tears.

"I can't," I whimpered. "I just can't..."

"You can!" She insisted. "If I could do it myself, I would, but I can't!

"Peter, please...

"Just let the pain end..."

I looked into her eyes, and I saw it.

I saw the pain she was in.

I saw how much it tortured her, and how the life she lived wasn't even a life. It was a husk of a life. Not a life worth living...

I looked down in shame as I reached across the bed. "I love you," I remind her as I look down into her eyes.

"I love you, too," she whispered, swallowing back tears of gratitude as she smiles up at me. "Thank you..."

I nodded, and, closing my eyes and gritting my teeth...

Before doing anything, I looked back into her eyes. "You'll always be my sister," I told her.

"And you'll always be my brother," my sister whispered in response, a single tear rolling down her cheek.

I nodded. And I did what she asked me to.

I pulled the plug.

She shuddered. She shook.

And then...

And then, after months of fighting the inevitable...

My sister slowly closed her eyes...and died.

When I open my eyes, I find that there are fresh tears running down my face, staining the other side of my pillow.

My entire body shaking with the emotional turmoil that I've just relived, I throw my legs over the side of my bed, immediately thinking of a source of promised comfort.

I pause in front of the door to the ponies' room. For a moment, I consider entering, and hugging each of them in turn.

But they're all sleeping at this time of night, and I don't want to disturb them...

So I force myself to continue on, without even knowing why I don't just return to bed. I shouldn't be pressing my problems on others like this...

I pause as I stand before her door, regret coursing through me. I know that she offered to help, but...we've only just met each other. She's just feeling pity, no doubt; and to act upon it would be wrong. It could lead to consequences neither of us are willing to deal with. Getting that emotionally involved, and that quickly? It would be bound to end in pain, for the both of us.

I step back from the door, and turn, tip-toeing my way into the kitchen with feline stealth.

I open the refrigerator, and take out the bottle of wine. After a moment's debate, I decide to replace it for a bottle of scotch.

After pouring myself a small amount, I brace myself against the kitchen counter as I stare down at the alcoholic beverage, the golden liquid shimmering in the darkness with comfort and life...

"Only one," I whisper to myself. "Only one drink..."

I down the glass, savoring the burning sensation that spills down my throat. I let out a content sigh as it makes contact with my empty stomach.

I set my jaw as I feel the nauseating urge to have a second. I shouldn't. If I get too drunk, I may end up knocking on Barbara's door. And then where would we be?

I find myself staring at the bottle, the scotch glass still in my hand. I grit my teeth as the scotch slowly takes its effect, making my head feel lighter and that nauseating urge all the more nauseating and strong. I clench my eyes shut, and force myself to think about my family...my children, all fourteen of them, sleeping peacefully in their cribs.

I open my eyes, and find that I've grabbed the bottle. The cool glass stings my hand, and as I lift it and place my glass on the counter, I know that I've lost.

After pouring the glass, I cap the bottle and put it back in the refrigerator.

"Only one more," I warn myself as I stare down at the liquid, hesitating to drink it, knowing that there will be consequences...

And yet, at the same time, wanting to drink it so badly...

A hand rests atop mine, the small, elegant fingers interlacing with my own as another hand reaches out, grabs the glass, and spills the contents down the sink.

I'm gently turned until I'm looking directly into Barbara's eyes. She simply stares into my eyes, her eyes full of sympathy and compassion.

After a small while, I begin to feel terrible for having even had just one drop of alcohol. I disrespected my memory of my beloved sister by even pouring the fucking stuff.

"I'm sorry," I whimper, less to Barbara and more to the part of my sister that I still hold within myself. I let my forehead fall onto Barbara's shoulder as I begin to cry.

"It's okay," she whispers, pulling me into a hug. I whimper and sniffle against her, holding her tight as I struggle to overcome my pain. After a moment, she pulls away from me, and looks up into my eyes.

"We really shouldn't be getting this personal," Barbara announces, as if that will change the fact we are getting dangerously personal.

"We shouldn't," I whisper in consent. "We should just keep to a professional relationship..."

She nods, and gulps as she continues to stare into my eyes, her hands still resting on my shoulders. My hands remain on her back as we stand there, frozen in time.

The both of us begin to lean towards each other at the same time. The both of us begin to close our eyes at the same time. The both of us part our lips at the same time.

And the both of us kiss at the same time.

Author's Notes:

Yeah, I know, that ending is kinda cheesy and stupid.
But I couldn't figure out a way to write the next chapter, so...
FUCK IT!
May as well introduce a new source of emotional conflict into the mix, eh?
Also CHARACTERIZASHUN (ermahgerd)
Also, don't expect the ship between Peter and Barbara to last. Just saying that right now.