There's a Changeling On My Couch, and Other "Tails" From the Far North

by Super Trampoline

Chapter 3: Can Phil Collins Orchestrate This Too?

Pen Stroke grumbled as he grabbed for the next stack of papers with his magic, wondering which of his past sins had caused him to deserve this. It wasn't that he hated his job, in fact he was quite fond of it. He only hated doing it. The adoption department of child services was a shining example of bureaucracy and red tape. He understood of course - adopting a child is serious business. But he couldn't help but wonder whether it was a several-hundred-pages-per-case-of-forms-in-triplicate-and-notarizing-and-legalese level of seriousness. Still, the work must go on. After all, he was the adoption department of child services. In fact, he was child services. And he was bettering lives. One legal document at a time.

He really did love this part of his job, he told himself repeatedly as he grumbled over why his request for documentation of immigration had been denied by the local archives. He loved the smiles on the faces of the childless couple told they finally could have their own foal. He loved knowing that the baby abandoned by its parents wouldn't freeze or starve. He loved knowing that the desperate single mother had an option that didn't hurt quite so much as the others. But most of all he loved the happy tears from the fillies and colts old enough to understand what was happening, to see their faces light up as they realized that somepony would once more be there to love them. It warmed his heart.

Much, much harder though, was the next task at hoof today. The why's. For behind every adoption is a story, and usually an ugly one. This case he now had in his hooves was no exception. A young couple -neither even thirty yet!- dead from the recent dragon attack. With a one and a half month old son. Tragic. He remembered reading the newspaper article on them, Autumn Leaves and Sea Swirl, two unicorns with a bright future ahead of them. The survivors had praised them, saying that they sacrificed their own lives distracting the dragon so that everyone else could escape. And now they were dead.

But at least they left a gift for the world: Flashpan Leaves, a beautiful orange baby colt. Pen held up a picture he had been sent of the little earth pony. He smiled. Don't worry buddy. I'm gonna find you a home.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

Winter Heart was barren. It was simple. As much as she and her husband Flintlock Alley wanted to have a foal -and indeed they had repeatedly and with much vigor reproduced the actions normally required to concieve one- they simply couldn't. No number of tears cried or doctors visited or expensive potions consumed would change that. So they turned to adoption.

"So, you ready to go?"

"No. I'm mean yes. I mean I'm nervous."

"It's alright hon," Flintlock said to his wife. "I know it might seem embarrassing. But if you really want something, sometimes you have to go through some awkwardness to get it. And we really want a child. Right? So grab a scarf if you feel the need (Frankly it's not too cold right now.), and lets go visit the adoption place. I don't know what time they close on Tuesdays."

"All right All right," she replied, reaching over to kiss him lightly on the cheek. "Let's get going." And with that they strode out the front door.

It was a somewhat warm and mostly sunny spring late afternoon, as Winter and Flint strolled through town on the way to their destination. Snowstorms were becoming less frequent now, and only a few piles of the dirty snow were left here and there from the previous one. They manuevered around some colts playing in one of those piles ("Shouldn't they be doing their homework?" Flintlock mused.) as they headed toward their destination. It wasn't a long walk, but then again when you live in a town of twelve thousand, it usually isn't. It was only about a mile from their house to the business district, and even then that was only if they went the long way. Which they often did, because they enjoyed their nice trots together in the crisp spring air.

Soon enough, the buildings grew a little bit bigger and sturdier, though the tallest were still only three stories in height. Another minute of walking through downtown, and they found the nondescript grey brick building they were looking for. Flintlock reached out and knocked.

thock thock thock

A moment later, hoofsteps could be heard approaching the door, and soon it opened, with a lanky royal purple stallion behind it.

"Hello?"

"Uh, hello. We're ah, looking for the child services department," said Winter slightly tentatively.

The unicorn inside smirked. Which happened a lot since ponies said that to him a lot.

"I am the child services department," said Pen Stroke, with just a tiny dollop of smugness at their naïveté. "How may I help you?"

"Oh great!" the mare lit up. "That was suprisingly easy! So, um, I imagine you must be in charge of adoptions then?"

For a very brief moment, Pen's eyes grew wide, as a giant flashing neon sign screaming "PAPERWORK!" illuminated the interior of his brain. Fortunately the microburst of expression went unnoticed by the couple, and Pen cheerily responded, "Aye, that I be. Come in, let us talk." He motioned for the two to follow, and Winter and Flint eagerly filed into the building.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

...a nonspecific amount of time later...

"So it's really that simple?" Winter asked. "I expected, I don't know, more paperwork or something."

Pen tittered. "Oh there is Mrs. Heart. Trust me, there is. It's just that it's for me. I'm the one doing the paperwork. You're the one doing the adopting."

Flintlock spoke up. "You seem to really have a passion for helping these kids. Have you yourself adopted any?"

"I can take care of them for a bit, but I'm not the right stallion for the job. For one thing I hate changing diapers. Now I know that's normal. If you enjoyed changing diapers I'd be more than a bit concerned. But my point is that while, yes, I very much love kids, I'm rubbish when it comes to rearing them. I'm fine with that too: I'm just one solitary stallion in the larger scheme of life, and I am happy with my role as a stepping stone, a rest stop if you will. These kids' ultimate destinations are loving families like yours. Speaking of which, I have a photograph I just received which I would like to show you two."

He rummaged around his desk for a moment while the couple waited eagerly, then hoofed a packet of papers over to them. Paper clipped to the top of the small stack was a picture of a peaceful sleeping baby colt. His coat was orange and scruffy, his mane a dirty mahogany brown with occasional streaks of silver "He's beautiful," Winter whispered. "Whats his name?"

"Flashpan. Flashpan Leaves."

"Leaves?!?" She gasped. "He's not the son of ... oh my."

"Yes, I'm afraid those where his parents. But now he has a chance to have a new family. Winter Heart and Flintlock Alley, would you be interested in adopting Flashpan Leaves as your son?"

The couple looked at each other, then faced Pen and, despite having heard of the foal only a minute earlier, responded without hessitation.

"Yes."

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

Two weeks and lots of paperwork for Pen Stroke later, Flintlock and Winter stepped into their house, this time with a baby resting in one of Winter's saddlebags. Flintlock reached in and carefully grabbed the sleeping child, then sat on the couch, cuddling the colt in his forelegs. The baby looked up into his adoptive fathers eyes, and cooed. A single salty tear splashed down onto his stomach, and Flintlock smiled.

"Welcome to your new home, Flashpan Alley."

Author's Note:

References, references everywhere!

Comments

[Super Trampoline]

First!

[totallynotabrony]

3317134 Yeah, by quite a margin.