She saw it then, in the instant before the little dragon spoke again. Pictured all of it in a single flash, a full movie playing across her mind in the time it took for a projector to illuminate a single frame. She knew exactly what her sibling had done, the first and only thing he would have thought of at all...
"He even brought the gems," Spike softly told her. "I think he knows a jeweler, somepony who just had some extras which weren't suitable for anything else. They were kind of rough, but... that's okay, when it's just for fuel. He wanted to make sure I wouldn't run out..."
Ah'm an idiot.
Ah thought he was stupid, jus' 'cause he's a big brother an' that makes any stallion dumb? Guess bein' the next in line ain't much of an improvement. Why didn't Ah see it...?
"How many?" And her voice was just barely audible to her own dipped ears.
Twilight, whose gaze was repeatedly now moving from Applejack to Spike like a spectator trying to track a lost hoofball, broke through her own visible confusion long enough to take the answer. "Fourteen."
Her mind automatically moved to a phantom tree, one which had never borne anything but Apples, and she tracked multiple paths down the branches. Goin' for the herd leaders. Aw, no...
"He just told me where to send each one," Spike quietly continued. "But he wrote them, and then he sealed them with some of our wax. I never saw what he was writing. But I thought it had to be the same thing in every letter, because it was so fast. A couple of sentences each. He said -- he didn't have time to wait for outgoing mail services, not even the express kind. That he had to let everypony know now. And when I heard the names, I thought he was trying to put together another reunion, or a group planting..."
"How does that get worse?"
"'cause there's more than jus' Mac."
Had Granny seen it coming? As something which would have to happen eventually, yes: it was why the elder had said the words at all. But not as something for now. Her Granny had probably been picturing the news getting out more slowly, rumor sending vibrations of anger down the family tree until some of the clan made a furious landing in Ponyville to collect a harvest of rage.
But she hadn't thought about Spike. And Mac had.
"Applejack?" Twilight helplessly cut in, with those new wings starting to tremble. "Your face... you look like you were the one in the fight..."
Not yet. Because the real fight was coming. In fact, it was coming directly to her.
"...I don't understand," Fluttershy tremulously whispered. "I know he was sending letters, and if it's a reunion --"
The eldest daughter of the Malus branch took a slow breath, and the movement of that powerful rib cage somehow briefly ended all other speech.
"-- it's family," Applejack told them. "It's always 'bout family, ain't it? An' he decided that if he couldn't get through t' me on his own, then the thing t' do was call in backup." And with the fury slowly building, sending her fur rippling in waves as her own body began to shake, "More ponies t' remind me of who they think Ah should be, what Ah'm s'pposed t' do. Reinforcements, right? Call the herd an' have it get the stray back in line..."
And they didn't understand. None of them did. Twilight's extended family was on the small side and tended to line up behind Twilight, mostly because a few of the outliers felt it would be safer to stay out of her direct line of sight. Fluttershy didn't have much in the way of relatives, and her parents... they didn't understand their daughter, they never had, but they supported the drive which had sent the wayward filly to ground. Spike was adopted, and to identify the family of his blood was a mystery he might never solve. And Scootaloo...
"I don't get it," the filly bluntly stated, one wing still draped across Apple Bloom's back. (It was strange, seeing how much more that wing covered now.) "What's going on?"
Another breath, one which seemed to take its time about delivering oxygen. Most of what it carried was old scents. Waiting areas in a police station would host the same emotions over and over, with the miasma of those feelings soaking into wood and walls. Trepidation. Anxiousness. An underlayer of terror, and all of it becoming worse as their own emotions rose, turned air into something very much like conductive glue. It froze them in place within the little room, tried to make everypony think and feel as a single unit, fear quashing individuality until the herd wanted to do nothing more than run...
...except for Spike.
Spike, who wasn't a pony at all. Who simply stood in place, looking worried (and picking out concern on the scaly features was automatic now) about the part he might have unknowingly played in events, completely unaware of the olfactory chaos which had just made Scootaloo's breath catch while Twilight forced unfamiliar wing joints back into something which almost approached a rest position.
(Fluttershy, who dealt with fear more than any of them, was simply breathing that much faster.)
Spike was immune. He would always be immune, and so he could easily be a source of renewed focus when the fears of the group threatened to overwhelm everypony within it.
Applejack took her cue from Spike, and then drew on the little dragon for strength.
"It ain't your fault, Spike," she quickly told him. "None of it. Mac told you jus' enough t' let your mind fill in the rest. You were doin' mah brother a favor. That's all y'knew, an' it was sure all he was gonna tell you." Lying by omission. "An' if you weren't around, he would have done the same thing: jus' with stamps involved. All this means is that it's happenin' faster."
"What did I do?" an unconvinced little dragon whispered. "If he came to me... Applejack, the way you're talking -- what did I --"
"-- it's what Ah did," and the part of her which had been trying so hard to raise Apple Bloom decided she'd cut him off for his own good. "Ah asked out Snowflake."
The reactions could be described as 'assorted.' Twilight had been there when she'd done it, and so the little alicorn simply maintained her current level of confusion. Spike, who was clearly behind on the news, blinked so hard as to let Applejack see two sets of lids shift. Scootaloo's entire body went tight, and fresh tension across bruises produced a near-instant gasp. Apple Bloom simply sniffed, and Fluttershy...
"...you did?" The shapely head came up fast, whipping the coral mane straight back, and a pair of blue-green eyes began to brighten as accelerating decibels started the climb towards normal speech. "Applejack! You really... I never thought, and I know he didn't, but -- the two of you, I think you'd be good for each other, so good, he's always needed somepony to just give him a chance and for it to be you -- !"
It was the reaction she had longed for. The hope for her own happiness, freely offered by the family of her heart, and it served as a reminder. Why she cared about them, the reason she'd ultimately trusted them with -- everything. It was the briefest of comforts at a moment when she desperately needed something to feel right.
But this was about blood, and so she couldn't allow it to go on. Not yet.
"-- an' Apples marry pure, 'Shy," she interrupted her friend, and so had to watch as the joy began to collapse under the weight of realization. "Date the same way. Earth ponies only, 'cause when we do find somepony, the magic has t' stay strong. Can't think of a single Apple who's ever gone out with a pegasus or a unicorn, let alone --" and now she was very aware of Scootaloo's alert presence in the stinking room "-- somepony as different as him. Ah told mah family that Ah'd asked him out, an' -- Mac protested. Gave it his all, brought mah Mommy an' Daddy into it, an' when that wasn't enough t' make me turn back -- he decided he needed more family. Those letters went out t' Apples, Apples all over the continent, an' they're on the way. T' talk sense into me."
T' make me feel the weight.
Tradition: a wall where additional layers were built up on the inside, narrowing possibilities while creating a forever-building pressure to keep doing it right. And guilt was something like that, because guilt could so easily be part of what kept traditions going. Everypony else had done it, and so who were you if you didn't do it too?
Everypony does the same thing, over and over, forever...
That was how you got traditions. It was also how you kept secrets.
"Fourteen," Spike's stunned voice half-whispered. "But that's not all of you --"
"Family leaders," Applejack sighed, slowly shaking her head in a mixture of disbelief, frustration, and a sudden-but-deep-seated desire to get down into the cells and give her dumb brother the kicking of what little might remain of his life. "An' not even all of 'em. Ah'm guessing that if'fin Ah saw the names, he would've sorted 'em out two ways. The ones he knew wouldn't approve, that would've been the first list. Couldn't take a chance on the outliers, anypony who might think Ah should have mah chance." If that was anypony at all -- but she was completely sure Samara's adoptive parents wouldn't have been on the list. "And then he would have narrowed that down t' the ones who could get here quick. Wouldn't figure on everypony t' respond, 'cause some can't be pulled away from their own farms, but -- fourteen would give him enough t' work with."
"...they're coming," Fluttershy slowly said, "just to yell at you?"
"Yellin' is the lucky option," Applejack darkly replied. "Part of it depends on who shows up."
"But you're a family," Twilight tried. "All of you together. Family has to count for --"
"-- y'saw the reunion, Twi. First day in. Jus' 'bout all of us t'gether."
"Yes," the little alicorn quickly insisted. "The reunion. It had to mean something, for everypony to come so far, just to see each other, just to be together for a while --"
"-- an' since it was your first day," Applejack quietly countered, "Ah wouldn't have expected you t' pick up on some of the little details. Like how some of the benches were set off from the main group, an' nopony sittin' there really came over for very long. Sometimes, family jus' means ponies y'can't tell you're tired of the same arguments they make every time they come by. The same stories, which were lies on the first tellin' an' haven't gotten any better since. Ponies y'never tell what you're thinkin', 'cause that's the way fights start, an' Ah'm saying 'fights' 'cause 'war' means somepony might admit they lost. Ah've got a big family, all over Equestria -- an' some of them are ponies y'can't tell that y'don't want t' see them again. They're ponies y'can't tell anythin'." And with a bitter laugh, "They already know everythin', so why would they ever wanna hear different?"
"How many?" Spike forced himself to ask. "Fourteen whole families worth of --"
"-- naw. Most of 'em are jus' gonna be disappointed. An' concerned." She snorted. "They'll be so concerned that they'll decide Ah need special lookin' after. Which probably means stayin' for a while, t' make sure Ah'm okay. Which, in case y'need it translated all the way, is gonna have a few of 'em movin' in. Supervising whatever Ah do, until Ah'm doin' it right again. Refreshin' mah memory on what Ah'm s'pposed t' be."
"...and the rest?" Fluttershy softly asked.
If Mac went for --
-- why am Ah thinkin' 'if?'
Starkly, "Are trouble."
Silence settled on the little room, crushing sound under the weight of dread --
-- for about two seconds.
"I can stop it," Spike hastily declared. "I can send a new round of scrolls, Applejack. I have some on me right now. You can tell them to just go back --"
"-- ain't gonna listen t' me. Not when Mac told 'em Ah was the problem."
"Granny Smith!" Twilight quickly insisted -- and then her tail drooped. "Unless she feels --"
-- but Applejack's eyes had already widened. "That might head a little of it off. Twi, can y'take Spike t' the Acres?"
"Yes." Pinkish light began to lift full saddlebags away from the slender body. "I'll leave the money here in case you need it."
Applejack quickly nodded. "Thank y'kindly." Might be some who ain't started out yet, an' maybe we can make a few turn around... But it was also late at night, deep enough under Moon that many would be asleep. Those who weren't woken by the light of the scroll's arrival wouldn't find the news until morning, and for those who were already in transit...
Mac wasn't the only one who had a list of family members in their heads. Who everypony was. How their position on certain topics could influence seating arrangements. Exactly how far away they had to be placed, and how distant they were to begin with. It meant the best she could hope to achieve was moderation, and it would never touch those whose personalities had never come close to the word.
"Jus' hurry. An' come back when you're done, if'fin y'can."
Twilight nodded, deposited the saddlebags on the floor and scrambled to Spike's side as her horn's corona surged --
-- they were gone.
Applejack blinked away the last of the dazzle, then sighed softly and tried to get comfortable on the bench.
Come morning, it'll be 'bout a day an' a half since he sent the word. Come morning...
Apple Bloom, who'd been through sufficient reunions to have a few memories of her own, was trembling a little faster. Half of Fluttershy's face had vanished behind manefall again. And Scootaloo --
"-- some reason you're lookin' at me?"
"You asked him out," the pegasus filly replied through oddly-stony features.
"An'?"
No response.
"...Scootaloo?"
"What?"
"Kinda known each other a while now, right?"
"...yeah," the pegasus cautiously answered.
"Ah mean, Ah ain't gonna say it's all been good. Most of it's gone the other way, at full gallop. But still, Ah think Ah can say Ah know you, jus' a little."
"...yeah?" (It was actually a rather poor imitation of her mentor.)
"So Ah'm gonna take a guess at what's goin' through your head right now." She arced her neck, leaned in just a little. "An' Ah say it's 'You're not good enough for him.' Am Ah right?"
The filly silently curled up into a tight ball of denial, followed immediately by breaking the 'silently' part because a bruised body really wasn't supposed to be doing that. Applejack went back to waiting.
But now she knew what she was truly waiting for.
The worst is coming.
It took four of them to manage his weight, and the result lost something for the effort.
Snowflake had very little direct experience with that kind of magic, and so hadn't known it was impossible for unicorns to truly combine their efforts. With pegasi, a considerable amount of power could be assembled from a large group -- but as more ponies became involved, the little disparities in their signatures began to accumulate within the massed magic. Every extra pegasus brought the whole thing closer to clashing, and so there was a number which had to be avoided: something calculated by figuring total ponies, their grouped strength, individual expertise with the technique involved, any standing effects in the area...
It was called the Weft Line, it was a moving target, and failure to pin it down could result in a tangle: weather as chaos effect, where any attempt to unravel the knots stood a good chance to make things that much worse. Tangles could kill.
(He'd always been reluctant to participate in group efforts, had shown up for the water transfer operation full of silent terror, for his field was weak, would always be weak, and it had felt as if that weakness might just make everything go wrong. It was a form of strength which no exercise could ever improve, and for a pegasus at his level to participate...)
(He wasn't a pegasus.)
But with unicorns... there was a loop of field around each of his legs, four separate hues and levels of strength at work, and it meant his body swayed as they carried him out of the cell. Every so often, he would tilt towards the back right: the officer managing that leg was the weakest of the group, and the dangerous dips gave him a brief glimpse of a desperate double corona added to sweat streaming across the exposed badge.
One of those dips substituted for a head turn, giving him the briefest glimpse into Mac's cell. The earth pony was still asleep: something which had happened shortly after the physician had been sent down to look them over. It could have been a conjunctive effect with any painkiller (although he wasn't sure Mac had accepted one), or... exhaustion. The effort required to carry a burden across a lifetime.
Eventually, they got him into the chief's office, set him down in a fashion which was almost as jarring as the carry had been: his right front hoof required two attempts to get settled, and there was one rather awkward moment where most of his hindquarters was in the air. Miranda silently watched all of it, saving her first words until his hooves were stable against the floor.
It was a rather plain office. There was a clock on the wall, but he couldn't see a single decoration. The desk itself didn't host so much as a lonely framed photograph. Files, quills, two mugs, plus a single inkwell were all the occupant allowed herself, and there were too many files.
The other four remained in the room. Watching.
"I've finished with the witnesses," the dark-hued unicorn told him, followed by a weary "For what good they were, because the time between what happened and when they told me what they saw was more than enough for those ponies to also tell themselves a few stories. And once that happens, the stories are what I get. But I think I've sorted most of it out, and now I want to talk to you. The last account for your side of the tale."
He managed only half of a nod: the freezer was still preventing the majority of the low end.
"Do you need wake-up juice?" The green-grey field levitated a nearby mug, then politely added a straw.
Water would have been preferable. He usually didn't do that much with the most caffeine-intensive plant known to exist and when it came to the lateness of the hour -- he'd just wanted to be awake. But he also didn't feel he was in a position where he could afford to seem ungrateful, and so he tried to make the next half-nod a polite one.
She waited until he'd finished drinking. Watching his eyes.
"Let's talk about your day before the fight," Miranda began, and he felt he knew what she was doing, because it wasn't his first time being questioned by the police chief: it wasn't even his first time under interrogation since he'd woken up. She was leading him up to it. Trying to make him comfortable (for as much as anypony in a freezer could be), just to see what might slip. "What did you do?"
"How's Scootaloo?"
That made her scrutinize his face.
"Sleepy," she eventually responded. "And lying about it. But there's no serious injuries. Your day, Snowflake. How did it start?"
"I... got up when I usually do," he forced himself to start, because he could see some extreme editing on the horizon and a pony who'd never been good with words wasn't sure how to subtly exclude some of the most critical. "Worked out."
She nodded. "Something that one neighbor finally stopped complaining about," Miranda commented. "After I had a few officers listen to your routine, and it became clear that somepony had to deliberately wake themselves up in order to lie about the noise. Then what?"
"I tutored Scootaloo for a while."
Her eyes automatically narrowed. "Lightning?"
"Not yet."
The mare's current expression silently redefined the ideal response to not ever. "After that?"
"I was at Fluttershy's for a while --"
Another nod. "They each confirmed their own portion of that." And upon seeing his face, "Let's just say they both tried to serve as character witnesses. Fluttershy said you were studying with her. Something which happens fairly often. But then you had to -- leave. And that is all she said. The session ended, and you left. So where did you go?"
He wondered if the freezer covered enough of his throat to keep Miranda from noticing the hard gulp.
"Canterlot." Because telling her that he'd been going to the prison suddenly seemed like a very bad idea --
"Anypony who can attest to that?"
-- and it hit him.
"The Princess."
Two of the officers gasped. Miranda's gaze never shifted.
"We... talked," Snowflake managed to continue. "For a while. It's..." and words ran out.
"Rare," Miranda slowly filled in. "Even in this town, it's rare for somepony to speak to the Princess. But you would know how easy that is for anypony to check, Snowflake, and that's why I don't think you're lying. Did she summon you?"
"No. I was in the capital for -- something personal. But..." He took the deepest breath. "You know the Bearers had that mission recently."
"The one they're not talking about," the police chief acknowledged, and he watched her ears angle back. "At all. Including Rainbow, who isn't even bothering with any thinly-veiled hints. That suggests something classified. And the Princess spoke to you about it?"
"She... found out I was in the capital," he tried. "And I spend a lot of time with Fluttershy, and... I can't really talk about it either, Miranda. There's things Fluttershy can't tell me. I just see what she's like after, how she's feeling, and..."
I'm no good at this...
"And the Princess wanted to check on her welfare," Miranda offered. "Through you."
He didn't say anything. Not talking seemed to be the best course.
"That took a while," she continued. "Given when ponies saw you get off the train."
Which undercut his best plan. "It wasn't just her. She brought in one of her -- friends. His name was Fancypants --"
Both of the dark eyebrows effectively teleported up.
"Really."
"Yes."
"The Fancypants." She settled back onto her haunches. "You don't stint on the quality of your alibis. All right. You got off the train, and then..."
He told her about the confrontation. The fight. Just the fight, because he had been taken into a confidence of sorts (even a drunken one) and while passing on some of that might help Mac, he wasn't sure when or how to do it.
She'll listen. She has to listen. It was his blind spot, and Scootaloo's going to be all right. It was instinct.
The police chief's ears were rotated forward again. But her gaze seemed to be looking past him.
"And that's it?"
He nodded.
The mare took a slow breath.
"Let him out."
Snowflake blinked and with that, the last of the intact bandages around his ear began to unravel.
"...what?"
"You're being released," Miranda stated as four different fields went to work on assorted clamps. "In the most technical sense, I could try to keep you on assault. Public brawling. A prosecutor desperate to increase their loss rate would probably say the fact that you didn't flee as soon as Mac's attention was diverted was proof that you wanted to fight. But I spoke to the witnesses, and while most of them are having some trouble remembering exactly what you said, especially when compared to dealing with the fact that you talked -- they agree on the most significant details. You didn't strike first. You tried to negotiate some degree of peace, talking Mac down. Agreeing with just about everything, up until the last thing." Her head tilted slightly to the right. "Why didn't you go along with that? You were lying about everything else, so why stop there?"
I wasn't --
"Instinct," he just barely managed to reply. "He made me really think about having to leave Ponyville. The 'no' just slipped out."
She sighed. "I can understand that." (His left foreknee was freed.) "You're not a natural negotiator, and you slipped. But you were trying to talk him down from his anger until then, and you didn't attack until after he'd kicked Scootaloo." The right side of her mouth twitched up. "Who spent a total of five minutes repeating herself on that, by the way. That you never would have gone after him without that. She feels, quite frankly, that you're horrible at defending yourself, at least when it's just yourself. But after he kicked her..."
The dark gaze changed. Focused. Pierced.
"Would you say," Miranda softly led (and now his back legs could bend again), "that you see Scootaloo as something like a sister?"
He nodded.
"And how do her parents feel about that?"
Oh no.
"I --"
"-- have you ever met her parents, Snowflake?"
Helpless, because the restoration of physical power suddenly meant nothing, "I've left them notes --"
"-- so have I," Miranda told him, voice saturated with an odd patience. "Along with a few letters and the odd summons to appear with their daughter in civil court. But I've never seen them, and I'm not the only pony in this precinct who could say that. One officer left this settled zone, in very small part, because she was never able to get through to them. To talk to the ponies who could try to make the Crusade stop. I have spent cumulative days in trying to meet her parents, and the most I've been able to almost verify is two married mares who aren't it."
"Holiday and Lofty." He was sure he didn't sound as desperate as he felt, mostly because he was certain that wasn't possible. "Scootaloo told me they visit --"
"-- from a considerable distance away," Miranda cut him off. "It's not exactly a casual trip. And if Scootaloo told you that, then you haven't met them, have you?"
I'm sorry...
"...no."
"What do you know about her living situation, Snowflake?" the police chief softly asked. "Because the next ponies to ask that question are going to be sent by the Department Of Foal Welfare. I have listened to every runaround non-answer she's given me, and I've read transcripts of the rest. And I've tried to be patient, because..."
The last of the freezer came away, leaving that limb free to nearly collapse. Miranda looked at the other four officers.
"Privacy," she told them, and sixteen hooves marched out the door. He heard it close behind them.
The police chief adjusted her sitting position. Fur ruffled.
"A common criticism of my tenure," she evenly (far too evenly) said, "is that I give the Bearers too much leeway. There are ponies in this town who feel that the entire set should be in prison, and I can say 'ponies' because after I discount Thistle Burr and the Flower Trio, there's still some leftovers. They've certainly done things which would normally warrant charges, haven't they? Like the whole Smarty Pants Incident, because that one broke actual laws. If you're curious, those would be EQ 141:2:37 and 19:2:4. The second is the listing for inciting a riot. The first applies to magically inflicting emotional resonance on unwilling subjects. Both Twilight, obviously."
He couldn't speak.
"There were charges," Miranda softly added. "But I sealed that file, on Princess Celestia's direct order. She told me the Bearers were suffering from post-traumatic stress following Discord's escape. Well, not exactly a shock, when you think about it: most of the town was buried under self-help books for a while, and that was after we got rid of what he'd conjured. I accepted her explanation, and took her word that Princess Luna would treat them through their nightscapes. So that one got swept into the stable. But there's been other things, hasn't there? Little disruptions, and not-so-little. Things which would put so many ponies into courtrooms. And the palace... wants me to leave them alone, as much as possible. Because having a Bearer or two behind bars isn't the best way to let them maintain Harmony. So I've looked away, now and again, when it's something small. For the bigger things, I lecture. But on outright felonies, the palace has also made it very clear that I can arrest. Still... they have a degree of protection, Snowflake: I'll admit that to you here and now, and I'll deny it at every waking moment outside this office. It's... not always easy to deal with."
The right side of her mouth grimly quirked up.
"I've bent myself into positions Lyra couldn't manage, trying to keep them all free," the police chief placidly continued. "Sometimes I even manage to cut off a problem before it can start. Remember the last alcohol festival? I know you don't partake -- and I made sure Twilight didn't either, by hiring her. A temporary recruit to make sure the day didn't go too far wrong, and 'wrong' would have been letting the strongest unicorn in the settled zone get drunk. I have to do something, because the palace wants them together. And that's not just avoiding arrests." (He caught a glimpse of her tail as it reached the furthest point of the lash.) "The palace is afraid of having one or more move. That the bonds of Harmony would be stretched through having them in different settled zones, possibly to the breaking point. I can't let things reach the point where somepony would need to move away. So I also have to be very careful with their families."
"The Crusade," he choked out, and wished he hadn't.
"The Crusade..." This time, the left side twitched. "Sun and Moon, any other settled zone would have had those three in juvenile criminal court: trespassing, vandalism, petty theft, and fraud. At the minimum. But I have to make sure it's civil cases, over and over again, because apparently that's my part in saving the world. I tell myself I'm not breaking the rules: I'm bending them because it's necessary. I tell myself that every day -- and then I wonder if it's really possible for my mark to ache. Or if it's psychosomatic. Because I'm doing the wrong thing in the name of letting the Bearers do the right one, and that has to have a price..."
Dark ears drooped as she sighed. Her eyes briefly closed, and what shadows existed in the office absorbed portions of her fur.
"I'll deny every moment of this, Snowflake," the surprisingly young, decades-weary mare told him. "That so much of the Crusade was my fault, because I thought that putting full pressure on Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle had a chance -- a small one, but a chance -- to drive their sisters out of town. I protected those two, and Scootaloo -- came along for the ride. My mistake. My fault. I let them get away with so much. It cost me an officer, and I -- let them keep going, long after it became too much --"
She stood up. Reared up, ramming her forehooves into the desktop, and did so at the same moment her horn ignited.
The repelled files slammed into opposing walls.
"-- but what that currently means," Miranda half-whispered, words moving through the space between echoes, "is that there is a minor who appears to have been living on her own for a very long time. A filly whose parents haven't been located, whose supposed aunts may be nothing more than carefully-spread rumor, and that rumor travels by scooter. There's only so much I can do with the Bearers, Snowflake, and that may never change. But there is a child who's potentially at risk, who's been at risk for far too long, and you're the adult who knows that filly better than any other. Tell me what you know."
And when his self-loathing could build no more, when it felt as if the weight of it had almost compressed his body to something approaching normal dimensions... it was over.
"Why didn't you tell anypony?" It wasn't a demand. It didn't have to be.
"...because she can take care of herself," Snowflake whispered. "She's been budgeting every bill. None of that money has ever gone towards the Crusade, even when she needed supplies more than anything. She pays the mortgage, picks up food, cleans and cooks for herself. She's been okay. The money comes every moon..."
"Money can do a lot of things," Miranda quietly replied, her forehooves settling back onto the floor. "Let me know if it ever drapes a wing across your back and says how much it loves you. Do you know where they are?"
"The sending address is different every time." It had been hard enough, just reaching the point where she'd trusted him enough to let him go inside, and spotting the envelopes... he'd told himself it had been an accident. One which had just kept happening. "You could have talked to the Post Office --"
"They have their own law enforcement. It doesn't always cooperate quickly." A soft snort. "Plus the mailmare who has the route for that part of town isn't all that fond of me. Maybe because she suspects she's next on the list."
"I don't --"
"-- let's just say," the tight voice failed to explain, "that a mare with that kind of reputation for brute stupidity might not be the best candidate to look after a child." She slowly shook her head. "Snowflake, parents traveling for a moon or two while their child keeps the bills paid -- that might be perceived as an exercise in trust, and even that's pushing it, not when there aren't adults looking in on her on a regular basis. As far as I can tell, this has been going on for years. That's neglect."
"She's been okay --"
"-- you think she's okay," Miranda countered. "The law would disagree."
A law you ignore every day --
But he couldn't hold onto the thought. Not when it was Scootaloo.
He could just barely manage the whisper. "What are you going to do?"
"Tonight?" She glanced at the clock. "Just about 'today'... She was in here for a while: I told you that. Defending you as best she could. She loves you, did you know that?" And looked directly into his shocked eyes. "It's not a crush. You see her as your sister? She thinks of you as her big brother. She needs one. So she made sure to tell me you were innocent, over and over again... and then she tried to drop the charges against Macintosh Malus."
She...
But he understood. Or at least, he thought he did. And he'd spent so much of the day being wrong about everything.
"Did you?" Because he still had to talk about the farmer, while having no idea how much he could say. What good it could possibly do.
One last snort. "That's not how charges work, and that would hold up even if she wasn't a minor. Charges are formally brought by the prosecutor's office, and we share ours with Canterlot. So I told her that I'd take her there once they opened, and she could explain her perspective to Arraign." Which was followed by a sigh. "She's trying to protect Apple Bloom, I think. Keep that big brother out of prison. So she'll argue that it didn't mean anything, that it was just an accident, that she attacked him while defending you..."
She looked at him for a few seconds, while internal words swirled and failed to find any workable order.
"She said she learned that from you," Miranda stated. "To fight for other ponies."
'Yeah' felt like a prosecutable offense.
"And how do you feel about that?" the police chief patiently challenged. "About the prospect of letting him go? Because this is a felony, Snowflake."
"She -- she came up in his blind spot," was all he had. "He just reacted --"
Miranda nodded.
That was all. No words. Not a single part of her face moved. She just nodded.
"...you know," Snowflake softly finished.
"We're all ponies," she told the stallion who wasn't sure if he still qualified for that. "We all get the same warnings when we're foals, about startling each other. But civilization is about fighting those instincts. He gave in to them. He soaked reason in alcohol and watched it drown. And even if she begs for leeway on what happened to her, even if the prosecutor's office listens -- what does that do to excuse what happened to you? Is there an excuse?"
"They don't know."
"No."
"Does anypony --"
"-- you."
"...what if it's my fault?"
"You didn't start the fight."
"I upset him," Snowflake desperately tried. "My just being there --"
"-- because Applejack asked you out?"
"Yes --"
It triggered a thin smile.
"I suppose this would be a bad time to congratulate you," Miranda decided. "She's got a reputation, you know. 'Fussy' doesn't even begin to describe it. And with all the stories which circulate about the things they haven't done, or rather, the ponies they never actually did any of those things with... I wasn't expecting to see one of them actually make a potential choice for a while, especially when about half the continent is already convinced they all chose each other. So where are you two going on the date?"
He was staring at her.
"She saw me attack her brother. She was right there."
"And she knows her brother attacked you," Miranda countered. "Because I told her that part, and she's been waiting with Scootaloo long enough to hear that version of it. A few dozen times."
"This is all because she asked me," he frantically insisted. "If I call everything off --"
"-- do you want to see him in prison?"
It froze him.
"No."
He knew she was very young, perhaps the youngest police chief on the continent. But there were ways in which occupation and talent had made her old before her time.
In complete neutrality, "And does that have anything to do with the talk you two had down there?"
The ice thickened, wrapped around his heart and cost it a single beat.
"I presume you talked," Miranda evenly stated. "As those in adjacent cells often do. I could also tell you about Equestria's definition of the right to privacy, and how it changes for those within cells. About the need to monitor prisoners, especially those who are visibly emotionally despondent and might represent a risk to themselves. I could even discuss how hidden speaking tubes for issuing orders to those watching the confined could be easily used for listening, making sure nothing happened. But right now, I'm going to presume you spoke with him. So in the event that I'm right... would you like to tell me what you talked about?"