Every Year I Stop You

by Lets Do This

The Deputy

A few days later, Hitch trotted out of the Bijou theater, late at night.

He was still shivering, images from the new horror movie dancing in his head. In his mind's eye he could still see the Malaise, the looming, implacable, poisonous-green cloud, enshrouding the helpless town, consuming its terrified ponies one by one. Until the last pony, thinking he'd finally escaped, suddenly looked over his shoulder and...

CRASH!

The only reason Hitch didn't end up on the roof of the Bijou was because all four hooves were glued to the pavement, soles gripping hard, ready to bolt as soon as his brain came unstuck enough to figure out which way to run.

Then he got hold of himself, and looked around fearfully.

The sound, like a trashcan lid being knocked loose, had come from an alley across the street. A dark, shadowy alley, behind the trees to the right of the Sheriff's office.

Hitch shivered. What would Brisk Bronco do? In the movies, Bronco always played the town Sheriff, the bold, fearless guardian. He defended ponies, upheld law and order. Proud and good-looking, he was always the buff and brave pony-in-charge. Hitch idolized him. He wanted to be just like him.

What Bronco would do, Hitch finally decided uncomfortably, is march right on in there and investigate. "Ain't nopony else coming to set things right," Hitch quoted softly. "Around here, I am the law. So this one's on me."

Hitch gulped. It always sounded so easy when Bronco said it.

Reluctantly, he put one hoof in front of the others, and made his way across the street, then behind the trees into the dim shadows beyond.

The alley was gloomy, just enough indirect moonlight to see by. He followed it to the back corner where the alley swung round towards the bay again. Here there was a dumpster and some trashcans.

And Hitch nearly trod on an upturned trashcan lid, lying on the ground.

Well, that explains the noise. But who or what knocked it loose?

Then he peered round the corner. And saw there was a pony hunched by the back door of the Sheriff's office, working a piece of wire in its lock.

Hitch blinked, amazed.

It was Sunny.

Over the past few moons she'd started putting on height, and was now almost taller than Hitch himself. Yet in many ways she was the same calamitously brilliant filly he'd gotten to like as a friend. And, Hitch had to admit it, breaking into the Sheriff's office was... well, not very far outside the box for her.

"Sunny?" Hitch called quietly. "What're you doing?"

"What's it look like I'm doing?" she replied crossly. "I'm getting some answers, Hitch! It's been a week already. And it's like everypony's just completely forgotten about him."

"Uh... about who, Sunny?"

She stared at him, miserably. "You see what I mean? My Dad!"

"But he's been gone..." Hitch blinked in startled realization. It had only been a week at the most, since Professor Starshine had suddenly gone missing.

So why, up to a moment ago, did I think he's been gone for years?

Sunny had turned back to the lock, poking and prodding at it. "I want to know what everypony's hiding. What they're hushing up. Why doesn't anypony try to find Dad? And why doesn't anypony tell me anything? There's got to be something, Hitch! And if it's anywhere, it'll be in here."

Hitch trotted closer. He wasn't sure what to say, what to do.

"Sunny... I get how important this is. I really do. But... you know this isn't the right way to go about it, huh?"

"What else can I do?" Sunny demanded. But she did stop jiggering the lock to look at him.

"Um..." Hitch cautiously reached out, put a comforting hoof on her shoulder. "Look, Sheriff Light can help, I know she can. But she catches you busting into her office, she's not going to be very sympathetic, is she?"

"So? What do we do instead?"

"We talk to her. First thing tomorrow," Hitch said. "I'll come with you, be there in case you need somepony to back you up. And we'll figure this out together. Okay?"

Sunny thought about it. Then she looked at him. And smiled. "Okay. And thanks, Hitch."

He nodded. "What are friends for, huh?"

"But..." Sunny looked frightened. "What if you forget? Or worse, what if I forget? That's what started all this! I was headed out the door like usual, and I reached back in to adjust the picture of Dad and me. And just for a moment, even I didn't stop to wonder why he wasn't here anymore."

Hitch tried not to show how creeped out he felt by that. How would Bronco deal with this one?

Looking around for an answer, his gaze landed on a discarded tack.

Well, I've had my shots, he thought.

Catching Sunny's eye, he stomped on it, wincing at the stabbing pain. Then he held up the hoof, and gingerly prized the tack out of the sole.

"Pain is Nature's reminder," Hitch said. "That's what Brisk Bronco says. This'll help me remember, if you don't. And if you think I've forgotten, just ask me why I'm limping. That should jog my memory."

"Hitch..." Sunny shook her head, amazed. "That is the nicest really dumb thing anypony's ever done for me."

He shrugged. "Hey, we do what we can, right? So, I'll see you tomorrow? Bright and early?"

She nodded. "You bet. Bright and early." Looking at the piece of wire, she chucked it over her shoulder. "And thanks again."

Getting up, Sunny trotted out of the alley towards the bay, disappearing around the corner.

Hitch watched her leave. Then he stared at his hoof, ruefully.

"Ouch," he muttered to himself. "They don't tell you how much this hurts in the movies."

"Very nicely managed."

Hitch whirled, heart pounding. And found himself facing Officer Light. The Sheriff had stepped out of the darker shadows behind the dumpster. "You headed towards danger," she said, "rather than away from it. Defused a touchy situation, rather than letting it get out of hoof. And displayed an unusual level of dedication. Very nice, indeed." Then she eyed him sternly. "You know, young colt, if you don't stop trying to do my job for me, I'll have to do something drastic about it..."

She half-smirked.

"... like make you my Deputy."

Hitch stared. "Seriously?" he gasped. "That would be totally awesome!" Then remembering himself, he drew up nervously. "Uh... ma'am."

The Sheriff snorted. Then she stepped past him, to the back door of her office. And glanced at him with a smirk.

"She wouldn't have gotten in that way. There's a trick to it."

Not bothering with a key, she set a hoof against the door, just above the handle. And shoved hard. The door, clearly long-disused, came open with a wrenching noise and a swirl of dust. And the Sheriff disappeared into the darkness beyond.

Hitch was about to follow her, but then her voice came from within.

"Here," she called. "Catch."

Something flew out of the shadows and smacked into Hitch's face, bowling him over. Righting himself, he picked it up and looked at it. It was a fat book, its title set in a drab, official-looking font:

Officer Light reappeared in the doorway. "When you've managed to memorize all that," she sneered, "come and find me. And we'll see how you do."

Hitch looked from the book to her. And saluted.

"Yes, ma'am! I'll get right on it!"

He set off down the alley at a run, clutching the book tightly in his lame hoof, oblivous to the pain now.

The Sheriff watched him go. Then she looked thoughtful.

"Hmmm. It has only been a week, hasn't it?" she mused. "How odd. Have to do something about that. Can't have any cold cases on the books. Not on my watch..."

Then she turned back inside, hoofing the door shut behind her.

"Mommmm, can we go now, please? I'm bored."

"In a minute, Sprout dear. Mummy's thinking."

Phyllis Cloverleaf stared around at the long, low, dusty interior of the factory floor, the narrow lanes between the presses and drills, the cubicle-like work areas. Cramped, Phyllis thought. And there should be better lighting. Some of these bulbs are practically vintage. Maybe open it up a bit, let in more natural lighting with skylights or something. Raise the roof a bit, give it a feeling of spaciousness, of unbridled possibility...

Phyllis prided herself on being stylish and fashionable. Having a sense of the proper "look" of things. That extra hint of glamour that made things not merely functional, but desirable -- even a drab, clanking work area like this one. After all, if ponies hated where they worked, by extension they'd come to hate the work itself. And that did nopony any favors.

If only I wasn't so busy being Mayor, she thought. The near-daily council sessions, the committees to chair, the endless meets-and-greets. Keeping in touch with the common pony. Hah-hah, as if!

Still, Phyllis knew that she had only herself to blame. Being so good at running things meant nopony wanted to challenge her. She'd been unopposed in the last three biennial elections.

If only there was some way I could get back into running the family business, she mused. Having everypony in town coming to me for a change. While still seeing to it the town is run properly. Making sure things don't go to blazes without me...

Her train of thought was derailed by a harsh blaring klaxon. Red warning lights blinked from the walls.

Phyllis turned and glanced about, at the worker ponies looking up from their stations and staring around in rising confusion and alarm. She looked around for Sprout, saw the scarlet-coated colt had gone to ground beneath a nearby workbench. He anxiously peered around, in wide-eyed terror.

Have to talk to him about that, Phyllis noted. Teach him how to take charge in a crisis.

"All right, everypony!" she called. "Calm down. I'm sure it's nothing serious."

Then Phyllis saw, coming down the main aisle of the factory, the tall, looming shape of Officer Light. The Sheriff calmly glanced left and right as she approached, with that half-smirk of hers on her face.

"Oops," she said innocently. "Looks like somepony must have pulled the fire alarm. Again."

"It wasn't me!" Sprout yelped from his hiding place. "Not this time! I've been here all along! Haven't I, Mommy?"

"Quiet, sugarcube," Phyllis said reprovingly. Then she looked at Light. "You?"

Light shrugged. "The place was overdue for a fire-drill. Seemed a good opportunity. Deputy!" She glanced over her shoulder at Hitch, who'd followed her in.

He saluted proudly. "Yes, ma'am?"

"See to an orderly evacuation. Have everypony assemble outside. Then have Sweets count noses, make sure staff and visitors are accounted for."

"I'm on it! Okay, folks," Hitch called. "You see those doors over there? They're plenty wide enough for everypony to get out safely in an orderly fashion. So let's line 'em up, and head 'em out. Come on now. Hup, hup!"

As Hitch busily herded ponies twice his height and three times his age, and marched them outside, Light turned her attention back to Phyllis. And despite herself, the Mayor drew back a little. She felt uncomfortable under the Sheriff's frosty, unrelenting stare. It made her feel nervous, guilty even. Like Light knew things about her. What things those were, Phyllis had no idea, and she wasn't even sure she'd want to know.

Light opened her mouth to speak. As if on cue, all the shrieking alarms fell silent.

"Now we've a minute to ourselves," she said, "and you can't keep rescheduling to avoid me, I wanted to chat. About Professor Starshine."

"Argyle? What about him?"

"Near as I can tell," Light replied coldly, "you were one of the last ponies to speak to him."

"I was?" Phyllis rolled her eyes. "Oh dear. Suspect number one, I suppose. Well, if you say so, Light. But honestly, it's been long enough now, I wouldn't know for sure myself."

"Long enough?"

"Well, it's been..." Phyllis looked puzzled. "What? Several years? Without any clue what happened to him?"

"Has it?" Light eyed her blandly. "Oh yes. Must have lost track, somehow."

"And I know there's been talk in town," Phyllis went on, "about an honorarium of some sort for him. Like, maybe naming the lighthouse after him. But I'm still of the opinion we ought to give that a little more time, out of respect. See where ponies' feelings end up on that."

"Hmph. You make it sound like he's never coming back."

"Maybe so, and I hope I'm wrong." Phyllis shook her head. "You know, Light, for all the times we argued, all the times that cheeky academic know-it-all got on my nerves..." She sighed. "I have to admit, I liked those arguments. He could get me thinking about things in unexpected ways. I've missed that."

"Don't we all?" Light said non-committally. "I suppose you've no objection to me asking around?" Her eyes narrowed. "Wouldn't want anyone thinking I was stirring up old skeletons. Causing unrest amongst the populace, and so forth."

"Well, you know best." Phyllis shrugged. "It's why you've been Sheriff this long. Everypony looks to you to keep the place safe." She glanced around, and lowered her voice. "Tell you the truth, you even scare me at times."

The Sheriff stared at her wordlessly. Then she smirked.

"Nice to know I still can, Phyllis. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll let you get back to redecorating the place in your head. Like you're always doing."

"I do not!" Phyllis laughed, rolling her eyes. "Honestly, Light, it's like you can read my mind, sometimes."

"If I could, that would solve so many problems, wouldn't it?" Nodding to Phyllis, the Sheriff turned, then trotted back up the aisle towards the factory floor's swinging doors.

Phyllis herself stared around at the factory floor, a speculative look on her face.

"You know, now there's a thought... I never really needed to be Mayor, just to get ponies to listen to what I told them..."

Leaving Phyllis to her self-centered plans, the Sheriff pushed through the swinging doors into the entry area. And found Deputy Hitch arguing with another pony. The Sheriff wasn't surprised to see it was Sunny Starscout.

"Sunny, you can't go in there!"

"But Hitch, it's too perfect a chance to pass up!" Sunny frowned at him. "Everypony's cleared out, because of the fire drill! I can leave some of these flyers I wrote up, on desks and stuff." She pulled a small sheaf of pages from the bag hanging from her shoulder. "I wouldn't be harming anything, I promise! It'd just get ponies' attention, make them take notice."

"Ahem." Sheriff Light smiled, seeing the fearful looks on their faces. That never gets old, she thought.

Sunny was looking proudly rebellious as usual. And Hitch -- well, he was clearly being more lenient than was proper with a potential trespasser. But for once Light didn't object. Not entirely, anyways.

She stepped forwards, leaned close. "Don't worry, Sunny," she whispered. "I'll find him. I've made it my personal project."

"Find who?" Sunny asked, surprised. "You mean Dad? Well, after all this time with no clues, there's not much hope of that anymore, is there?"

Light stared at her. It's been a few days, at most, she thought. And if even Sunny doesn't remember... what the hay is going on?

The Sheriff only remembered herself each morning thanks to a sticky-note she'd pasted onto the first blank page in her logbook:

She worried about the day she'd forget to move it forward to a new blank page. It would slip into the past, and the memory along with it. The same as with everypony else in town, apparently.

Hiding her disquiet, Light gestured to the flyers Sunny was holding. "Then what are these for?"

"Oh! These are for a party I'm organizing up at the lighthouse. To try to promote friendship with the other pony tribes."

"A party?" Light looked unconvinced.

Sunny nodded. "We've gotta get ponies here to realize unicorns and pegasi are not our enemies. That's what Dad always said. And I want to make sure everypony in Maretime Bay remembers it. It's... well, kind of a way of remembering him, actually."

Light raised an eyebrow. "Really? Then why not ask some of the storeowners on Shore Street to let you post these in their windows?"

Sunny looked doubtful. "You think they'd let me?"

"They'd better," Light replied. "After you tell them you've already put one up on the notice board at the Sheriff's office."

Sunny stared, mouth open. "Really? I can? You mean it?"

Light nodded. "Just don't let me catch you posting them anywhere else without permission, hmmm?"

"Yes, ma'am! I mean, no you won't, ma'am!" Sunny beamed, and then turned and raced out of the building, a pony on a mission.

Hitch looked after her, then at the Sheriff. "Uh, boss? Miss Sweets is already taking attendance outside. Is it okay if I go after Sunny? To help... I mean, make sure she doesn't get into trouble?"

Light nodded. "I think you'd better, Deputy Trailblazer."

Hitch grinned, and was off like a shot too, banging out through the front door.

The Sheriff nodded to herself.

"After all," she added quietly, "clearly somepony has to..."

Late one night, some weeks later, Sheriff Light awoke with a startled snort. She lifted her head from the desk in the darkness of her office. Night had fallen outside, and she'd forgotten to put the lights on.

Fumbling around in the dark she found the switch. And then stared at her hooves, in puzzlement. She'd had the strangest dream. That she was fading away somehow, becoming insubstantial...

But that was ridiculous. Here she was, as solid and immovable as ever.

She returned to the desk, to the clutter of notes about Argyle. Where he'd been, what he'd done, who he'd talked to, up to the day he'd disappeared. All of which led her nowhere.

Nopony had liked him that much, but he'd had no serious enemies. He was a creature of habit, rarely venturing outside his usual haunts: the library, the records office, the grocery store. And he cared about Sunny, deeply. So it wasn't like he'd just wander off without even leaving a note. Clearly he'd been keeping something to himself, but then everypony had secrets, things better left unsaid. There was nothing unlawful about that.

And Light kept coming back to the single most annoying point about the case.

She herself was apparently the very last pony to speak to him.

There was nothing else for it. She'd have to try to retrace his steps one more time, see if there was anything she'd overlooked, as unlikely as that seemed.

Light looked across the office, at the Deputy's desk. And smiled. Hitch was coming along nicely. He was a natural at wearing the badge. He tried hard to project a calm, confident, professional demeanor. Ponies in town were coming to trust him, even respect him, nearly as much as they did Light herself.

Nearly, Light mentally added, with just a hint of professional jealousy.

And Hitch looked after Sunny. He seemed to treat her as his own personal responsibility. Kept her to the straight and narrow, in as far as that was possible for such a brilliant and creative troublemaker.

Light nodded proudly, feeling somehow satisfied. I did what you asked, Argyle. I found somepony who could replace me. Somepony who'd look after Sunny, even better than I would.

Now, she added crossly, where the hay have you gotten to?

Shutting off the lights the Sheriff stepped out of the office and into the circle outside. Glancing about, she turned up the street into town, in the direction she'd last seen Argyle walking.

All around her, houses and storefronts were dark and silent. Everypony was tucked up safe in their beds. If they know what's good for them, Light added to herself, with a grim snicker. I'm on the prowl.

Coming to Butter Hill, she considered it for a moment. Then on a hunch she tried going in a direction she hadn't tried before. Over the hill and to the west, toward the farming district. It was completely out of his normal pattern, but one never knew, right?

She strolled along between darkened fields, in which moonlit grain and corn were rustling quietly in the evening breeze.

And as she came to the edge of town, she felt a rising sense of unease bringing her hooves to a stop. It was as if she was walking towards a precipice, a cliff over a bottomless drop.

A line from a poem she'd read as a filly came to mind:

Last seen wandering vaguely, quite of her own accord,
she tried to get down to the end of the town, forty bits reward...

The uneasy feeling made her anxious, made her want to turn back.

I must be getting senile, she thought. I fear nothing. I am the law here.

Determinedly, she marched forwards.

All round her, the air seemed to be growing darker, murkier, like mist or fog. Looking back towards town, she could barely see the fields of the farming district, and Butter Hill beyond them, gleaming in the moonlight.

Then she looked forwards again.

Straight into a pair of eyes, burning like furnaces in the dark.

They looked down upon her, as from a height. And behind them was a suggestion of a looming shape amidst the shadows. Like a pony, but with a horn and wings as well.

It chuckled dryly. "Took you long enough."

Light stood her ground, teeth gritted.

"Who are you?" she demanded. "What have you done with Argyle?"

The shape seemed amused by her challenge. "That's not what you should be concerned with right now. You should be more troubled by the real threat to that little town of yours. Which up to now you haven't been able to do a thing about, have you?"

"That's because you've been clouding our minds! Fogging our memories! That's it, isn't it? That's what's been happening here!"

"Far from it." The shape chuckled dryly. "I haven't had to do a thing, really. Except remove a distraction every now and then. I allow ponies every opportunity to show their true selves, and they never disappoint. They do all the hard work, without any help from me."

"Well, now we know you're here," Light growled. "And we'll fight you!"

"Really?" The flaming eyes regarded her. "Where's your backup, Brisk Bronco?"

Sheriff Light felt cold. She hadn't even left a note. Nopony knew where she was, where she'd gone.

The same as with Argyle, all those moons ago.

Is this what happened to him?

She stared up at the flickering glare of the dark pony's gaze, into the smug look on its shadowy face as it stared down at her. She could try to make a run for it, yet she had a feeling the specter could easily overtake her. She didn't dare take her eyes off it. In part because, even as she looked at it, she realized there was something disturbingly familiar about it.

It felt just like every morning, when she got up and looked in the mirror.

And saw...

"Who are you?" she demanded, with a horrid suspicion.

It tilted its head, gave a familiar half-smirk. "Don't I know?"

As Light took that in, her eyes wide, the dark mare trotted slowly around her, trailing shadow behind herself like a train of fuming smoke. "It wasn't easy, with what little magic remains. Only being able to reach ponies weakly, indirectly, through dreams. Whenever their thoughts are muddled or distracted enough." She chuckled evilly. "But I wouldn't be where I am, wouldn't be who I am, if I couldn't handle... difficult..."

Light stared down at her forehoof, the one she'd dreamed was becoming insubstantial. And she saw the opposite was happening. There was an armored shoe on it now, of black, polished iron. It was very solid and heavy. She felt similar armor on her back, on her head.

The very armor that she'd worn, so long ago. And she felt memories, too, gently filtering back...

... her memories, from before.

"This is not an enemy one can attack directly," the dark mare said, almost musingly. "It wears an all-too-familiar face. It demands tolerance, honesty, mercy... while showing none itself. It subverts any direct assault, turns it into a weapon of its own. So it must be forced into the open, made to show itself for what it is, so it can be properly challenged. And that requires subtlety, misdirection. Working from the shadows. But we know all about that, don't we?"

Light shivered. The very things that made her so good as Sheriff. Acting by influence rather than command. Working unseen, until she wanted to be seen. Manipulating ponies into staying in line, all the while making them think it was their idea...

These were her skills, her talents...

The mare completed her circle, leaving Light surrounded by swirling, fuming darkness. "As I was saying." The mare's voice -- her voice, echoed in Light's mind. "It's about time you found your way back here. You see, that's my corporeal form you've got there. And I'm going to need it back."

With what remained of her own fading, desperate will, Light faced the flaming eyes one last time.

"But, the town... Argyle... Sunny..."

"Oh, don't worry. I'm working on that one. Or should I say, you're working on it, hmmm? And you never, ever give up. How well we know that, eh? And now, Officer Light," the dark mare added, with an almost sorrowful expression on her face, "I'm going to need you to do something you're going to find very difficult..."

"What?"

The shadow-mare leaned close, to whisper viciously in her ear:

I'm going to need you to get out of the way...