If You Give a Little Love...

by Quillamore

Act II, Scene 3: Thunder Before the Storm

What am I doing with my life? a single voice thought within a sea of indecision and struggle. What in the name of Tartarus am I doing here? How could I have stooped this low? Am I really this desperate?

Several questions had swirled through Scene’s head ever since that fateful day when he discovered just who his enemy really was, but these above all had dominated his thoughts. It’d taken him quite a while just for him to get himself back together after his meeting with Mosely Orange, and even then, he still felt like he hadn’t found all the pieces needed for him to be considered entirely there. Giving into his producer’s every whim meant losing most of his senses of both rationality and emotion, anyway, so perhaps things really were easier like this. Maybe if he hadn’t been so struck by the encounter, he would’ve tried to rebel again. More than anything else, he feared the prospect of going astray once more and more importantly of being called into that torturous office room again and slowly drained of any motivation he might’ve once had. He’d failed so much at protecting others that all he could really hope for now was to protect himself.

Thoughtlessly, as if in a trance all this time, he had been drawn to a set of mediocre apartments in one of Manehattan’s outer districts about ten minutes away from the theatre in search of answers. He certainly couldn’t count on going to Coco for them anymore, nor could he ask one of his coworkers on the job for fear of accidentally revealing too much about his producer. It seemed that the only option he had left was the one he had silently dreaded and cast aside for days.

It lay within Apartment 313, Polomare residence. Just seeing that name on the placard by the door was enough to make him curse the irony of his existence. From the outside, it sure didn’t look like the evil lair he’d always expected her house to resemble; spikes did not surround the area, thunder did not sound upon his entry, and the wallpaper wasn’t exactly Tartarus-red, but rather the same generic off-white that every other room in the building seemed to be. In fact, the only real distinction of the room itself was its sheer excess of lace and knitted decorations; never in his life had he come across so many doilies in one place. The old Scene would’ve just as soon thought he was mistaken and taken the next elevator with the assumption that, with enough smudging, a three could look quite a bit like an eight and that the real room was on an upper floor. But if he’d learned anything from his experiences these last few days, it was that that Scene was gone. He’d been so drained of everything that he wasn’t even suspicious of his judgment anymore and he certainly didn’t have time to question something as small as this.

Taking a hesitant look at the sign above the room number that said “no soliciting” in shabby letters and all caps, he gently placed his hoof on the door to knock only to regret his decision even sooner than he would’ve expected.

“Can’t ya read the sign, numbskull?!” an angry voice yelled from the other side. “I’ve spent enough time selling my own stuff on the streets to know all your shady tactics, so don’t waste your time on me, okay? I probably even came up with some of your techniques myself, to be honest, so if you think you can do ‘em better than me, I’m light years out of your league!”

“I’m not a solicitor, I swear!”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s what they all say. I’m not opening the door, foal.”

“Suri, as your boss, I demand that you open this door right this instant or—“

After several short moments, the mare on the other side seemed to have finally caught onto the situation, but regardless checked through her peephole to ensure that it wasn’t just some salespony bossing her around for kicks. After sufficient evidence to the contrary had been found, she kicked the door open and spent quite a while staring at the stallion outside her door.

“What’re you doing here in the first place?” Suri asked skeptically. “Nopony ever comes down here other than Mosely; the other ponies at work could care less. Which is fine, because as a certain group of ponies would say, I didn’t come to Bridleway to make friends. But still, even if I had been expecting you, I haven’t seen your face around the costume department at all this week. Nothing about this makes sense.”

“I’ve given up on making sense after the things I’ve seen,” Scene confessed. “And, while I may not like you, it seems you’re the only one I can actually tell stuff to these days without fear of being punished. It’s going to be a lot to take in, and you may never look at your coltfriend the same way again, but I need to get this load off me and tell somepony, even if it has to be you. If you’re not okay with this, I can just go to somepony else and—“

“Nah, if I can make myself useful to you for once after all the annoyance I’ve caused you, I’m going for it, okay? It sure doesn’t mean I’m going to pester you any less, but if I can help for once, I’d like to.”

Scene could’ve done any number of things then. He could’ve launched straight into his story, told Suri off for continuing her friendly façade, or even run straight out of the building only to further close himself off from everypony, never to receive the answers he so desired. But instead, he only let out a single sigh and leaned up against a couch covered in doilies, too tired with everything to even question why furniture would need that much decoration in the first place.

“Why does it seem like we’re the only two ponies in this world who ever change?” he muttered, half to himself and half to anypony who would listen. “I mean, ponies like Coco go to work every day and always react just about the same; other than when Babs ran away, of course, I feel like she’s always been the same way. Even as I learn more about Mosely, I can see that he still keeps getting as much joy out of conning everypony as he did years and years ago. But when I look at what I’ve been through over the course of this small production, it’s almost like I can’t even remember who I was before. And when I do, you always have to show up and make me wonder if it’s all a façade or if I’m really any different from you.”

“What’s with all the philosophical ramblings?” Suri asked after sitting through his rant. “I mean, it wasn’t a good situation for you, sure, but the way I heard about it, what should’ve happened was simple: you go in, you get told off by your boss, you accept his punishment, and it’s over and done with. Not exactly a life-changing experience and even if it was, why on Equestria are you going to me for help?”

“Because you’re the one pony Mosely least expects me to turn to. I may hate the situation just as much as you do. I haven’t gotten over what you’ve done by a long shot. But at the same time, I’m desperate for somepony to talk to and…I want to know how much you know.”

“Then let’s try it. Test me, okay? And I think I have an answer to your question from before. I may not be anywhere near qualified to guess at something so deep and awkward, but if I had to, I’d say it’s because we love. Or at least, that’s what the mushier ponies of the world would say. You’re changing because you love Coco and I’m changing because I love—“

“Mosely?” Scene wondered, dreading any other potential answer.

“Yes and no. I’m not quite as simple or clear-cut as you are. Though I have a feeling that after your story, things might finally get a lot simpler for me. I’ve almost been hoping somepony would have dirt on Mosely so I wouldn’t feel quite as wishy-washy and stupid about everything.”

“Well, I’m not sure I’d call it dirt,” the director began, “but it’s certainly news that’s going to shake Manehattan one day. And it starts with this: after this musical finishes its run, Stealer-Orange Productions will be no more…”

****

In another part of the bustling Manehattan streets, a familiar group of earth pony mares of various ages could be seen discussing amongst themselves in hushed whispers. They ignored all the shops and scenery around them, too engrossed in their own lives to take any sort of reflective pauses. A little further away, a unicorn mare sat vigilantly at a sidewalk café, carefully pony-watching as if her life depended on it.

“Find anypony, Rarity?” Coco asked her companion urgently.

“No,” the unicorn sighed in annoyance. “I told him we were supposed to meet here. I even checked to make sure this was the exact place. Scene said we were supposed to go to the bakery on the theatre district that sells the blueberry frosted doughnuts, but I swear I just passed a million Duck ‘n Donuts and it was a miracle that I even found the right one in the first place—“

“Want us to check the one up a block just in case?” Babs offered.

“Oh, please do,” Rarity muttered. “If I have to look in one more of these shops, I think I’ll keel over. What is the deal with Manehattanites and their doughnuts, anyway?!”

“I’ll go with her,” Bambi interrupted. “Order me a plain glazed and the coffee milkshake thing with cookies in it. I’ll pay you back for it.”

“I can’t believe there are ponies out there who consider this normal,” Rarity finally groaned as the two sisters cantered away. “Why on Equestria would you even need fifty doughnut shops in one area, anyway?!”

“Celestia knows why,” Coco responded. “And I mean that completely figuratively. Please don’t ask your princess friend to literally ask her.”

“So, while we’re waiting for the other two, do you mind me asking how your job’s been going these days? Has your producer eased up on his accusations yet?”

“No; unfortunately, I haven’t been seeing anything of him at all. He keeps himself at a distance from a lot of the crew, and even though I’m fairly high up in the production, he still prefers to have Scene check up on me most of the time instead of doing it himself. I don’t even know what he looks like or really anything about him. I assume Applejack would?”

In response to this, Rarity only shook her head.

“I sent a letter to her when I decided to lengthen my trip here so I could help you move in, and I thought I’d ask her if she could use her connections with the Apples to vouch for you. Turns out, even though she did live with your producer for some time when she was a filly, he’s one of the family members she knows the least about. He shows up at the big reunions, but when there’s just a smaller meetup around a holiday, nothing. Even when he goes to the large events, he sticks with his other Manehattan Apples and only really pays attention to the others to discuss the family business affairs. Granny Smith, the matriarch of the family before Applejack, thinks a lot of reason why the other Apples seem to have so much against their Manehattan members is because the head, Mosely Orange, doesn’t seem to have any real connection to them anymore, and yet he continues to meddle in their affairs. He divorced the Apple member he married years ago, but he never stopped carrying himself like he was one.”

“That could be true,” Coco replied, “but Babs isn’t one by blood, either. Nopony knows who her birth parents were, and they still stood up for her. What makes the two of them any different?”

“That’s the tricky part. We don’t really know, considering the two of them happened to come from the same place and neither are related by blood. Maybe the rivalry between the Oranges and the Apples was just too strong to dissolve, or that an outside, non-Apple party is seen as less harmful than a direct Orange in the family. Maybe it’s just the fact that Babs is still young and Applejack sees her sister in her. Personally, I think it’s mainly because at least she doesn’t try to insert her nose where it doesn’t belong, as Mosely apparently goes as far as bossing other rightful family members around and claiming himself as the head of the Manehattan Apples. But family rivalries aren’t really going to solve your problem, are they?”

“You do have a point,” said Coco. “But it’d still be nice if I knew something about who was behind the curtain and all. Considering the way he is, it might not be the best for me, but I feel like I have the right to know who I work for.”

“And you do. Just feel free to send me a note if anything goes wrong between the two of you if you do meet up. I have a bad feeling about this stallion; if he treats his productions the way he’s been treating my friend’s family, I certainly don’t want him being the same way with you. But then again, it could just be quick judgment on my part.”

“I understand where you’re coming from, Rarity, but I still feel like I shouldn’t expect the worst from him. I mean, he’s Applejack’s uncle and even though they fight a lot, Scene seems to be friends with him too. I really should give Mosely a chance before jumping to conclusions, not just because he’s so close to everyone, but also because, well…looking at things from his perspective, it only makes sense to be suspicious of an employee who’s been involved in criminal activity.”

“But, on the other side of the coin, the fact that he’s dating you-know-who doesn’t really help his case. Especially since Suri told us that he knows and still goes out with her anyway. A really trustworthy pony might not have made that decision.”

“This whole issue is just too confusing for me.” Coco finally sighed in exasperation. “I don’t even know why we’re concerned about it at the moment, to be honest. I mean, my job’s important and all, but I feel like we ought to take it one step at a time. Namely, figuring out where Scene is, and—“

Just as she was about to speak once more, Bambi and Babs came rushing back from the other side of the street with two other earth ponies, a mare and a stallion, behind them.

“We’ve got bad news, and, well…I can’t lie and call it good news,” Bambi began. “It’s just plain weird. Babs, could you please explain while I drink my coffee, try to make sense of it all, and generally struggle to keep my head from spinning around uncontrollably?”

“So basically the two of us were searchin’ around, and as we feared, Scene was nowhere to be found. Then we thought that since he’s kinda famous around here, maybe somepony in another store saw him go by earlier and recognized him. There was this odd one right next to the donut place with groceries and knickknacks, so we went in there. The ponies running it didn’t know where he was either, but somehow your name came up and—“

She reared onto her hind legs to reach Coco’s ear and whispered, “They say they know you. And they insisted on following us here even though they had a shop to run. They’re all kinds of creepy, but we weren’t able to shake them. Trust me, we tried.”

After taking a closer look at the middle-aged ponies that’d appeared to invite themselves along to the gathering as if they’d been promised free doughnuts, Coco made a swift realization that would only bring more questions and awkwardness.

“Babs,” she muttered back, “they’re not being creepy. Those are my parents.”

“Then why don’t I know them?”

“They thought I’d never give them grandchildren, so I thought it’d be a surprise. Except, well, I kinda sorta got busy with my job…they got busy with theirs…our schedules conflicted…I kept forgetting what ‘important thing’ I was supposed to be telling them…I swore I’d already told them about you, and so…now they kinda sorta have a granddaughter they didn’t know even existed…and still don’t know exists.”

“Kinda sorta?” Babs asked skeptically.

“Kinda sorta.”

“So ‘kinda sorta,’ as in not really?”

“No, ‘kinda sorta,’ as in I’m embarrassed to tell the actual truth and want to diminish it.”

“So those ponies are kinda sorta your parents?”

“No, not ‘kinda sorta.’ There’s no need to draw attention away from that situation. They are my parents.”

“So what do we do, then, if they don’t know anything about—“

“Tell them the truth, of course,” Bambi replied, sighing at the situation as if the answer was the most obvious thing in the world. “They’re going to find out eventually. Hiding it will only get on their nerves.”

“Yeah, but I’m not really sure how they’ll end up reacting to the two of you,” admitted Coco, turning to the other mare. “I mean, they probably won’t be mad or anything, but I really don’t know how I’m supposed to explain all this to them, especially not considering the odd circumstances we all happened across each other.”

“Trust me, if there’s one reason I joined this family, if it can even be called that at this early a state, is because I wanted a family without secrets. I’m still not quite sure what to make of you, but bottom line is, you are getting dangerously close to making one of the few mistakes I wouldn’t wish on anypony. Family lies can have some of the most tragic consequences of all, no matter how small they may seem.”

“You’re taking this whole thing awfully seriously,” Rarity commented. “It’s just a matter of whether or not we tell them the full details about where Babs came from right away or leave it for another time. It’s not as if Coco would leave them in the dark for long enough for it to cause any damage.”

“I’m not saying she would,” clarified Bambi. “It may not be serious to you, but…I’m just not good at this kind of thing, all right? Even a tiny lie can hit way too close to home, because, well…it was all too easy for me to hide my half-sister away from the rest of my family. And when they found out…”

Barely audible cries could be heard creaking their way out of the newsmare’s mouth followed by repeated whispers of “I could have saved her” and a constant refusal to look anypony else in the eye. Any attempts at subtlety Coco might’ve been able to muster would likely be instantly dashed the moment her parents noticed the mare at the table having a nervous breakdown for, in their oblivious minds, no apparent reason.

“Um, what’s the matter with your friend over there?” a voice suddenly spoke from behind. Whipping her head just behind her despite the fact that she knew it all too well, Coco could see the bespectacled face of her mother, a middle-aged earth pony by the name of Fated Spade. Or, as she preferred to be called, Fate, a name all too fitting for the inevitably unavoidable situation she’d managed to get herself into. She fiddled with her otherwise neatly coiffed fuchsia mane, which ran all the way down her neck, and shifted her hooves around when her daughter took notice of her other odd tic.

“Looks like the mane touching runs in the family,” Rarity observed. “Babs should fit right in by that logic.”

“She’s fine,” Coco replied. “We were just talking about something without realizing it’s sort of a sore spot for her. Sometimes she gets sensitive about stuff like that, and can’t necessarily control it when other ponies are around.”

“She’s going to be okay, right?” Fate asked. “Would it be better if we left and went to see you and your friends another time?”

Just when Coco was about to respond to her mother’s question, Bambi decided to insert herself back into the conversation once more, coming back to reality after several seemingly endless moments of drowning within the nightmares of personal memory. She lifted her head off the table in a daze, quietly breathed a sigh of relief upon realizing that she hadn’t accidentally crushed the doughnuts while she was in her fearful state, and looked side to side, sizing up the ponies before her. The father appeared to retain some sort of coolness to the situation, all too similar to her own. One look at his cutie mark, however, and a memory of what he’d done in the store, stirred the yellow earth pony back to reality and the realization that, if a simple baker was enough to stir subconscious associations of her repressed emotions towards her own father, she really did have more issues than she gave herself credit for.

“Sorry about that,” Bambi finally spoke. “Sometimes, it can be a bit too easy for me to slip away from the situation at hoof. I presume you’re her parents?”

“We sure are!” the brownish-gray stallion before her replied. His calm composure instantly melted and exploded into a huge smile as if he had only just now noticed the other ponies in front of him. “Name’s Terry Pommel, best baker in Manehattan! Or at least, the best potato baker. Saying I know anything about other grains and starches would be overexaggerating a bit.”

“You can bake with potatoes? Or do you just make baked potatoes?”

“No,” Terry said, “I make bread from potatoes, of course. I’m not actually sure about how to bake potatoes from potatoes, to be honest.”

“If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times,” Fate sighed in annoyance, “literally all you have to do is put the potatoes in the oven and cut them open afterwards.” She then turned to Bambi and muttered, “You’ll have to excuse my husband. Ask him to make anything not directly related to his job and he’ll fail miserably.”

“Hey, at least it gives us funny stories to look back on. For that matter, it’s also good preparation for those stallion moments where our parental duties require us to embarrass Coco here.”

“Or at least any more than a baker dad who can only make potato bread can.” Fate quipped.

“So anyway, enough about us,” said Terry, visibly blushing at his wife’s teasing but nevertheless maintaining his youthful, somewhat goofy composure. “How’d you get to know Coco?”

“Oh, Bambi and I are moving in together,” his daughter chimed in to explain. “I had a bit of trouble with my job, and while we’re still trying to resolve the problem, I thought I’d room with somepony else. And even if I haven’t known her long, she’s one of my friend’s relatives, and we seem to be getting along well enough.”

“The filly here is my sister Babs,” Bambi added. “We’re going to throw her a small cuteceñera the second Coco and I move in. She got her mark a week or so ago, but we’ve been so busy with the preparations that we’ve had to put her party to the side until now.”

“And you say you know these ponies relatively well even if we’ve never met them?” Fate asked somewhat skeptically. “I mean, I’m sure they’re fine, but after what happened with that other mare you tried to make friends with, we sort of have the right to be a bit suspicious. It’d be all too easy for somepony to take advantage of you—“

“Relax; I may be many things, but I am not Suri Polomare. I can promise you that much. And trust me, I need Coco to stay out of trouble just as much as you two do. No way am I leading her into any more drama.”

“So what about that stallion you were asking us about at the store?” Fate questioned. “You told me he’s directing the production our daughter’s in, but she has the day off today. Why’d you need to consult him, then? You acted like you were really desperate for his help or something back there.”

“Well, we kind of are,” Bambi answered honestly. “We wanted to save bits on moving by doing the work ourselves with some of Coco’s friends, but we were only really able to get Rarity, the pony next to me, and Scene, the director, to help us, and Scene didn’t show up. Since we’d be down to just three full-grown ponies without him, we thought we could try to track him down, but no luck on that part. I suppose we could hire somepony to do it, but I’m not sure they could do it on such short notice.”

“What if we helped?” Terry asked. “I mean, we do have the store and all, but we have been wanting a day to ourselves for a while, especially if it means seeing our Coco. It should go fairly quickly with five ponies all taking loads at the same time. What do you think?”

“Personally, I’m still skeptical of this whole arrangement,” his wife stated bluntly. “I mean, I get that there’s been some hard times on
Bridleway; stuff like that happens. But, with all due respect, anypony can say they’re not going to cause trouble, even somepony like you. I have read your articles, and I can honestly say that I enjoy them, but even somepony who makes her living off exposing criminal deeds can have her fair share of secrets. More than anything, though, I’m just curious of how you two met in the first place. Coco’s never really been the sort to mingle with Manehattan movers and shakers like you.”

“I’m a ‘mover and shaker?’ Never quite thought of myself that way, and I’m really not sure whether to be flattered or—“

“I already told you: she’s my friend’s relative,” Coco sighed, half in annoyance and half in resignation over her mother’s overly cautious demeanor. “If you want more specifics than that, she’s from the Apple family, and their main head was one of the ponies who helped me get the job here.”

Bambi couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt, wanting so very desperately to tell her newfound ally that any boons her family may have given her would soon be edged out by her father’s shenanigans. She wasn’t quite aware of just what Mosely was plotting by making Coco believe her job was in danger, but she’d known him for long enough that hearing the last bits of Rarity’s gossip about his being involved gave her a sense of incredible foreboding. She didn’t quite know what it was that kept her from telling the truth, but somehow, just when she had finally made up her mind to confess everything soon, something inside her was telling her not to. Perhaps it was just her not wanting Coco’s parents to know, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that it was something more—that tiny but annoying iota of herself that still wanted to call her father by that name rather than to abandon him for good.

“Yes, but how did you just so happen to find a cousin to a distant acquaintance who just so happened to have a room available?” Fate questioned. “Seems like an awful lot of a stretch to me. Either she’s something she’s not or you’re not letting us in on some very important details.”

With a single raise of Fate's eyebrow, the entire party stood still, too shocked to move. All they knew was that one option left: to tell the story they dreaded telling the most.

Comments

[HB_DS2013]

Prison is too good for Mosely. But then again, we can't just kill ponies we dislike for no reason. Anyway, my hatred for Mosely burns as much as my hatred for Spoiled Bitch Rich. If I had to choose between Suri and Starlight. I'd rather choose Starlight because while she's also the manipulative type, she's learned from her mistakes and is slightly tolerable despite messing with time out of spite.

[Quillamore]

7344889

Because, were she to have been questioned for death row, she'd say she "didn't know he was like that" (which is debatable) and annoy them until they gave her a lower sentence.

[Quillamore]

7344897

Then again, Mosely/Spoiled has been my OTP from Tartarus for quite a while. When bad ponies stick with bad ponies, at least they don't hurt good ponies romantically (but still do in other ways).

[Quillamore]

7344897

And thanks, by the way, for giving me another Mosely rage comment. Most of those were lost to the rereleasing process, and I've been missing them already.

[Golden Fang Ryu Shenron]

With a single raise of Fate's eyebrow, the entire party stood still, too shocked to move. All they knew was that one option left: to tell the story they dreaded telling the most.

Oh buck....