Your name is Dave Strider, and you are 24 years old. You are currently wading through wreckage of an old, long-since abandoned house. You'd heard the explosion—or rather, the collision—from down the street. You were with your best friend at the time it happened. You two were having a conversation you'd prefer not to have again when a meteorite flashed by at an uncomfortable proximity and crashed into the house you are now stumbling over. You look up as something brightens the area overhead for a moment and see yet another meteorite streaking through the sky. You wince as you hear it crash to the ground; that was really close to where Rose was!
Just as you're heading out of the demolished ruins of what used to be a house, you hear the cry of a baby. You freeze.
=== Be best friend, Rose
Your name is Rose Lalonde, and you just witnessed two meteorite crashes in one day; the second being much too close for comfort. Once the dust settles, you find yourself approaching the crater. You know it's a bad idea—you'd told Dave it was a bad idea to investigate before he left—but curiosity is getting the better of you. That, and you can swear you hear an infant's shrieks. You find the child—surprisingly unscathed—and pick it up, wrapping it in your shawl. No, not it. Him. And he looks shockingly like Dave.
=== Be Dave once more.
You are Dave once more. You found the baby, who looked fine considering a meteorite crashed into the house. You scoop her up into your arms, shooshing her as you wrap her tiny form in your jacket. Her cries fade slowly, turning into whimpers, and then hiccups, and then stopping altogether as she drifts off to sleep in your arms.
Suddenly, you remember. Rose! Shit, you forgot about the second meteorite! How in the hell could you forget about the second meteorite? You step carefully around the remains, not wanting to jostle or hurt the baby in your arms. As quickly as is possible while carrying a sleeping child, you head back down the block.
=== Down the block.
You are Rose again, and you are standing on the porch of an old house down the block from the destroyed one, the infant boy cradled in your arms. You managed to calm him quite quickly by letting him suck on one of your fingers, and now he is fast asleep. You glance up as you hear your name being called by a familiar voice.
"Rose! Are you okay? There was a second meteor and—" He cuts himself off and it's then that you notice a small bundle in his arms, much like the one in yours. "Oh. You too, huh?"
"Where did you find her?" you ask, gesturing to the baby girl he's holding.
"In the hellhole of a house that the first meteorite crashed into."
"Strange," you muse. He gives you a weird look.
"What is?" he asks.
"I found him near the place where the second meteorite struck." Dave stares at you as if you've grown another head. He suggests you two continue this conversation inside.
Once seated in the living room, he asks, "Rose, are you suggesting that these two babies were on the meteorites?"
"Of course not, Dave," you disagree. "That would be completely absurd. But perhaps they were in the areas near the collisions?" He reluctantly agrees—what else could explain this?—and looks down at the baby girl he's still holding. He looks up at you, and back at the baby, and at you again.
=== Dave: Have a revelation.
It's really the first time you've gotten a chance to look at this baby's face, and now that you have…you realize.
She looks just like Rose.
=== Years in the future, but not many.
Your name is Dave Strider and you are 28 years old. It's been four years since you and your best friend found and adopted two children under strange circumstances.
The one you are in charge of is named Roxy, and, for the sake of keeping up appearances that Rose is her mother, her last name is Lalonde. The little devil that Rose takes care of is Dirk Strider, seeing as he looks almost dead-on like you. Almost. If it weren't for the eyes, he would look dead-on like you. But instead of the bright, ruby red irises you have, his are a striking tangerine.
At the moment, you and Rose are arguing in hushed whispers in the kitchen while Dirk and Roxy play in the living room.
"Something has to be done about her, Dave, she's destroying the human race!"
"Let someone else deal with it."
"Who, Dave? She enslaves those who cooperate with her, and kills those who don't."
"What can we do? We have kids to look after!" As you say that, you can hear crying from the living room. You and Rose both immediately go to see who's crying and scoop up your respective kids in your arms. It seems Dirk is the one crying this time, and, while Rose is consoling him, you continue to play with Roxy.
Rose comes back a few minutes later with a now-sleeping Dirk in her arms. Roxy is yawning and beginning to drift off in your embrace. You and Rose put them in their room for their mid-afternoon nap before returning to the living room.
"Dave—" Rose begins, but you cut her off.
"I don't want to talk about it anymore, Rose. I'm not leaving Roxy."
=== Months in the future, but not many.
You were doing the one thing you'd promised yourself you'd never do. You hated yourself for going back on this promise, but it had to be done.
You and Rose had been attacked by the Batterwitch. During the attack, you'd been separated from her. You knew what you had to do to take out the Batterwitch. Unfortunately, in order to fight back, you couldn't be taking care of Roxy. So here you are, breaking your promise to never leave her. She is fast asleep as you hand her to the strange humanoid creatures. She will probably be upset when she wakes, but it's worth it to know she's safe.
=== Be 10-year-old Roxy.
Your name is Roxy Lalonde, and you are 10 years old. You've been living in this strange place for six years, and are the only human in this civilization. At least, until the day the man arrives.
When you see him, you're frightened. How can you not be? He's battered and covered in blood. And yet, you get the feeling you know him. It's only when he gives you a small smile that you realize who he is.
Dave.
=== Dave Strider: Complete your mission.
You'd made yourself another promise on that day six years ago. You'd promised that you'd see the little girl you'd come to view as a daughter again before you died.
Rose is already dead. You're nearing death. And when you see Roxy, you smile. You didn't break your promise this time.
You collapse.
And you're gone.