If You Give a Little Love...

by Quillamore

Act V, Scene 4: She Might Only Have One Match, But She Can Make an Explosion

“More credibility than anypony else here.”

It’d been a whisper, one that Coco hoped more than anything would come off as a fierce one. It’d stemmed from the confident self she’d crafted over the past few months, the one that would come out even when her heart moved in a completely different direction. And it would be enough. It had to be.

The question had pierced her very soul—she’d been sure that nopony, let alone a potential ally, would think to bring up her worst side. That was a low not even the paparazzi had reached, and there she was, facing it as only she could. With a painted-on smile that begged to leave the courtroom as soon as she could.

She stared at the nearest clock, Torte’s face, then back again. It was almost five ‘o clock, meaning she just had to tackle this question and it would all be over. She could only hope that Bambi’s testimony, the last one the prosecution had to offer, could make up for her grave mistakes.

“Every witness so far has stated that the filly in question was found in a factory that the Manehattan Police Department rarely inspected,” Coco continued. “Myself included. While I believe I have changed, and I swear with all my heart that I’m not committing perjury, Babs could only have been found by a pony from the inside. Anypony who might be considered more trustworthy than I am would have ignored the case, since it involved forces deep within the underbelly of our city. As for whether or not I’m trustworthy…as long as I’m here, it’s no longer up to me to decide.”

As her collected persona shattered on impact, those words were the ones that echoed through Coco’s brain more than any of the others. For the first time, she realized that every single step she’d made could be undone by just thirteen ponies, ones that had never really known her to begin with. If she was a weaker mare, the mare she’d known a few months ago, she would’ve surely grabbed the ring and ran off to a life where she knew she would never be happy. Anything, anything to keep her from remembering who she used to be.

There was nothing in the way of a response; no reassurance was to be had. By the time her cross-examination was over, everypony remained as calm as they had ever been.

When Bambi spoke, as everypony was carted off towards their homes, Coco couldn’t help but recall a dream she’d had when she was young, when she’d taken the stage and heard white noise in response. She remembered telling herself that she could never be afraid of silence, but staring out at all the ponies around her, begging them to believe her, made her realize that she’d always been wrong.

She flopped onto her bed without any ceremony at all; in fact, she could barely even remember if she’d eaten dinner. All she could hear, even then, was a question and an answer that could never come close to explaining everything. One that she’d tucked behind her memory for so long that she’d never even thought about how she could respond.

The one thing that took her out of the past was, ironically enough, the same thing she’d always counted on. Staring at Scene’s admirer letter absentmindedly, she felt as though she was still trapped in that moment from months ago, when she thought it’d belonged to somepony else entirely. The moment when she wasn’t even sure of who she was, or if she had a right to belong to this family. It was strange, really—she felt the same way as she did back then, just learned to hide it better.

Eventually, she was just about to jump off her bed and pore over her legal documents yet again when somepony else flopped on. As always, ponies had a way of sneaking up on her, but this time, all Coco could think was that for once, it was somepony she’d actually wanted to see.

From what little she’d known of her daughter’s afterschool plans, Babs was supposed to make an appearance at the main Orange residence and attempt to bring the family together. Granted, she hadn’t been alone—Valencia had decided to opt out of the case at the last minute and still refused to see her brother—yet for all the effort Coco seemed to put into avoiding places that could give her daughter discomfort, Babs seemed to charge headfirst into them. By the time she noticed Coco, she’d already changed out of the stuffy blazer she’d donned for the occasion—though, as she noted several times throughout the day, it certainly beat wearing Midsweet’s old dress.

“Didn’t go so well, huh?” Babs asked with a surprising lack of concern in her voice. “Bambi won’t even talk to me about it.”

As she saw her daughter staring straight at her, Coco was almost tempted to stay silent and keep her out of the loop. Her mouth, however, acted far too quickly for that.

“Well, when Mosely Orange proposes to you, and it’s still not the worst part of your day…it’s hard not to feel like this.”

Any attempts at explaining the rest of the situation, she realized, would soon be dashed as soon as she uttered a certain detail that would make just about every hack tabloid writer drool. The very second Babs began to stare at her in disbelief, Coco pulled her saddlebag out from under the bed, ready to show the dubious ring.

“Gratefully, I was cut off before I could say anything. But if you’re still worried, I would’ve left him crying on the side of the courthouse before I’d give you up.”

Even in the midst of her latest drama, Coco still couldn’t help but rub the filly’s head just as playfully as she always had. Just as seeing Mosely brought her feelings of unspeakable fear and hatred, it seemed just looking at Babs brought her back to Equestria and out of her inner Tartarus.

“So I guess it was just him tryin’ to throw you off, then?” Babs asked, bringing her mind back to the case.

All Coco could do was sigh in response and make herself remember that as hard as today’s ordeal was, tomorrow she’d have to do something even harder. Something that would guarantee Mosely would never go near her again, even if the case worked in his favor.

“I wish,” she muttered. “As twisted as it is, though, I don’t think he even realized he could use it against me. I didn’t get a very good look at him, but I get the feeling that his time in custody, plus what he did to both of us at the reunion, took a toll on him. He didn’t try any of his usual tricks in trial, and I don’t even think it was because ponies were watching him. I think, deep down, he’s given up on that sort of thing, just because he feels he’s that far gone.”

Babs shot her a single look of confusion and crowded closer onto the bed, like a filly waiting to hear how a particularly compelling bedtime story would end.

“All that sounds like good news, and you said the witnesses were top-notch today. Then why’re you worried?”

“It’s just…what if even that isn’t enough? As much as Mosely got shot down today, so did I.”

With a tiny sigh of hesitation, Coco confessed, “Torte brought the worst possible thing up against me today. He told everypony what kind of work I was in before, and even implied that my word wasn’t trustworthy because of that. For all I know, it could’ve blown my testimony out of the running for the jury, and—“

Just like always, whenever she found herself telling somepony about her troubles, she felt as though she could barely even control her own body. Therefore, she had practically no awareness of what was unfolding in the room at that time, and everything seemed to blur together. All she could focus on was that pair of green eyes, the ones that relied on her so much…the ones she could very well have already failed.

The next time she turned to look at them, they were practically glowing with emotion before they lit up with anger.

“Mama, you’re hyperventilating.”

For a few seconds, all Coco could think about was how her foal knew such a word, but later, she came to realize that she was, and the expression on Babs’ face certainly didn’t help matters. However, the filly noticed just about as soon as Coco did, and she quickly turned her face away.

“Even if he’s not the one behind the scenes this time, they’re still tryin’ to get into your head,” Babs muttered. “It’s just…I have an awful hard time believin’ anypony in Equestria wouldn’t listen to you ‘cause of your past.”

The confidence in her eyes was almost blinding, even moreso considering all the ways she’d been put through the same ordeal. The truth of the matter was that as many times as Coco’s past could’ve been mentioned, Mosely always conveniently excluded it. For her, and her alone, he believed that much could be transcended.

When she thought about it like that, she couldn’t help but scoff at the way he’d practically torn into Torte after the trial ended for the day. She’d been too stuck in her web of despair to realize it at the time, but the way Mosely could defend other ponies and look past their transgressions, while doing the same thing to those he opposed—

Scene had told her once that Mosely saw himself as multiple things, but never a hypocrite. Yet another thing he’d been wrong about all along.

When Coco put these feelings into words and tried to tell Babs that this was the same sort of thing Mosely always did, however, the filly simply shook her head.

“Anypony other than him,” she replied. “Y’see, I struggled with that a lot myself, but then I figured somethin’ out. Anytime he tries to pull somethin’ like that with me, he’s the only one who believes it himself. And, if you really think about it, that’s what it comes down to. Equestria’s better at forgivin’ ponies than we want to give it credit for. The longer we live without knowin’ that, the more ponies can take advantage of us, right?”

For probably the first time since she came in the room, Babs shot Coco a smile and looked up to the ceiling, as if imagining something far beyond the two of them.

“You really think they’ll keep trusting me? Even after all that?”

“Applejack and Rarity and everypony else did. That’s what really matters, isn’t it?”

Coco wanted to counter her any way she could. She wanted to tell her that the ponies who sat on that jury could very well hold different beliefs. Yet, even she knew that staying in this frame of mind would only make everything more complicated. After all, she’d made it this far trusting ponies she’d barely known. This would just have to be another leap of faith.

Even with that hope in her heart, though, she still couldn’t help but ask the one question she dreaded above all.

“What happens if that isn’t enough?” she repeated. “What if I lose everything tomorrow?”

“Don’t worry,” Babs said, playfully bumping against her mother, “you won’t.”

****

Today would be a great day to be Coco Pommel, or Scene Stealer, or any of the figures that dominated the left side of the courtroom. You could take your pick of the Spellshock crew, and any of them would end up receiving good fortune on that day. A few of them would even get everything they’d ever lost, returned to them as if life had never lifted a finger against them.

Coco, of course, didn’t know any of that yet. Hesitation still ruled her heart when she walked into the courthouse the next day, but just like always, she tried to flood her mind with other thoughts. Thankfully, Mosely hadn’t tried to interfere any more today, and with any hope, yesterday’s meeting would be the last time she would ever have to speak to him.

Still, she mentally rehearsed what she’d say as her turn to testify came yet again. No matter what she’d end up doing in front of Torte today, Coco knew that it wouldn’t be anything Mosely expected. The rest of the court either, for that matter. It’d been a plan she’d came up with in what little spare time she’d had left, a gamble if she’d ever known one, and it would go against everything ponies on the case took for granted. Yet, narrowing down her choices now, Coco knew that every last word needed to be said. It was just a matter of waiting now.

“All rise for the honorable Golden Gavel. The case of Manehattan v. Mosely Orange is now in session.”

All the humor she’d once found in that sentence was gone, replaced with a quiet resolve that baffled even Bambi and Cameo. Even though Coco was going to be working against them today—much to her chagrin—she still sat with the rest of the prosecuting witnesses, yet another part in the game she had planned. All Mosely had to do now was keep thinking Coco’s family had convinced her to take their side—a delusion Coco herself knew would stay anchored in the stallion’s mind until somepony forced it out.

She gave him a single, cursory glance before proceeding onward, just enough to notice that he was already off his game today. Judging from the witnesses he’d gathered, though, it seemed he’d been off his game for quite a while now.

All the ponies standing before the court had been chosen for one reason and one reason only—they were either insanely famous or experts in their field of study. Therefore, even though Coco had never directly spoken to any of them, their faces were still familiar enough to her. But as the morning progressed, each gave arguments that the prosecution had either completely refuted or that could be easily dispelled.

He’d even hired a hoofwriting expert, somepony who’d somehow gone through enough of Coco’s records to tell without a doubt that the pony who’d written the warning letters Rarity had received was not the costume designer herself. Clearly, this preyed upon the fact that few ponies in the courtroom would be able to see the difference, and only the judge and jury were close enough to get full access to the documents. Still, seeing the lengths to which Mosely had gone not only turned Coco’s stomach, but also gave her the proof she needed.

There was absolutely no way her plan would fail. Now, it was just a matter of trusting the jury with the biggest trial she’d ever had to face. Both literally, and figuratively.

Testimony tended to be short and to the point, not enough to dispute every point the prosecution had brought, but enough to barrage the jury with plenty of contrasting evidence. Just like any good producer, Bridleway or otherwise, Mosely had made sure to include as many big names as possible, but now, Coco even doubted that. Perhaps he could have orchestrated such a trick in his better days, but considering that he was barely phoning in today’s appearance, every aspect of the case had to have been controlled by somepony else.

Maybe that was where Torte came in, after all. Somepony who knew enough of Mosely’s tricks, had been around enough of Mosely’s tricks, to trick everypony around into believing the defendant had planned everything himself. As the clock ticked ever closer, Coco kept telling herself that there was only one way to find out.

She’d just have to sit through testimony after testimony after testimony and remember Babs’ words. And, above all, to remember what she’d been fighting for all this time.

“Mr. Orange has made multiple contributions to Bridleway society and beyond,” a single voice murmured. A witness without a name, or one whose views were so much like the others that they barely deserved one. “Whether it’s through his donations to various worthy causes, his returning of famous stolen artworks to their original owners, or his lobbies towards our fair government. He has, quite simply, never had a single charge against him until a particular pony decided he was no longer satisfied with the breaks his producer gave him.”

With all the generic assumptions that’d gone around today—that there was a lack of evidence, that nopony had ever documented proof of Mosely’s involvement with the Manehattan underground—the ones this pony made were enough to make Coco stiffen in her seat. Nothing about what this stallion argued was going to be simple or superficial, and that in and of itself could sway ponies the other way.

If she hadn’t been scheduled to go immediately after this distinctively undistinctive red stallion, she might have given up then and there. But after the hours she’d spent studying the Pink Lady cases, delving into the way Cameo and Valencia had operated when they each adopted that role, Coco knew what she was about to say next would make everypony forget this witness ever existed.

The more the stallion spoke, the harder she realized she would have to fight. For the next set of words would have surely broken the older self she still carried within her heart.

“My name is Polemic Prose, as I’m sure all you wonderfully cultured ponies already know,” he began. “But please, do call me Polem. Before writing for Bridleway, I was a bestseller in every category of the Manehattan Times list, though that’s not particularly pertinent to this case. More important, perhaps, was the time I spent as Mosely Orange’s preferred director. A role I surely would’ve continued playing for years had I known the trouble my replacement would end up causing. But, considering his name, I guess I should have considered myself warned ages ago.”

While Coco had spent most of the day seated in her own little bubble, barely paying any attention to the ponies around her, it only took a single stolen glance to know that Scene was glaring bullets at Polem, just as the older stallion was glaring back. She could even hear Scene mutter a few choice words at the rival director as her coltfriend shook his head and clung to her protectively.

“If you hadn’t sucked up to Mosely, Spellshock wouldn’t even be a speck in anypony’s eye. I didn’t ‘steal’ your job because I was better than you, I ‘stole’ it because Mosely figured I wasn’t a money-laundering, pretentious little—“

What remained of Scene’s rant, however, was quickly cut off by Polem’s booming voice, one that clearly outnumbered whatever hushed mumbles Scene was currently spouting.

Most of what Scene had alluded to was already well-known to the Spellshock cast. After all, anypony who had the audacity to apply to the notoriously prestigious Stealer-Orange Productions knew at least some bit of their history. The collab had started years ago, and as much as Scene liked to claim his director role had been a big break for him, even he knew that he was simply the most convenient pony for the job.

As Polem explained, he and Mosely had had their fair share of arguments before their own collab, Power Play, collapsed. He hesitated to say exactly why it had disbanded, but Coco knew from the stories that it’d been because, contrary to popular belief, control freaks rarely worked well together. He’d hounded Mosely one too many times about how his plays should be staged, stole a good amount of money from Royale Theatre as revenge, and just like that, Mosely had made him disappear. And reappear whenever convenient, so it seemed.

Coco had a feeling that this would be far from the last she’d hear of him, as he’d probably return to the floor just about as soon as she gave her huge speech. But, for now, she listened in on his rant about how Scene and Scene alone had been the thing to ruin Mosely for good, and she lay in wait like a predator about to seize her prey.

The power she felt about undoing Mosely for good was just as invigorating as it had been the night Cameo had taken him down, but just like then, she made sure it wouldn’t get to her head. After all, she had to take Polem’s considerations into mind, too, if she was to keep the jury trusting Scene and mistrusting everypony else they’d hear today.

“Mr. Stealer only made these accusations to steal the mare Mr. Orange loved most.”

We’ll see about that, Coco thought to herself as she trotted across the aisle yet again, as Polem’s words faded into the background.

Several murmurs came to the forefront as she faced the judge yet again, already blown away by her presence. Which, of course, was to be expected, considering how little they knew about the ways she’d been manipulated throughout the case. She briefly thought how this might have gone if Mosely had his way, but she knew that in either case, the watchers would have been just as floored as they were now.

Either way, she would still command their attention. Her time was now. And she wouldn’t let this case turn into some celebrity spectacle. Anything less would be spitting on her daughter’s legacy, on everything she’d ever done for Babs.

On everything Babs had ever done for her.

With a renewed confidence, one that she knew would stay glittering in her heart for as long as she lived, she placed her hand on the Elements of Harmony book and uttered the one sentence the old Coco could never bring herself to say.

“Mosely Orange,” she yelled with everything she had, every memory of her time with Babs fluttering through her mind, “no matter what you keep telling yourself, I never loved you!”

Author's Note:

Try screaming that last sentence as loud as you can. It's surprisingly fun. I knew from the moment this plot was a twinkle in my eye that Coco's rebuttal would have to start off with something this dramatic!

Also, I don't normally like my chapter titles to be this long, but this is a special case. Most of this series, from Act I-halfway through Act IV, was written when I was in college, and I always noticed that Rachel Platten's "Fight Song" tended to play in the student union when I was finishing up a part. I figured it'd only be fitting to have an altered version of the lyrics for one of the last part titles, and I feel the song's quite fitting for Coco as well.

The last two titles have been in my head from the beginning~

Comments

[Titan Commander Sebaste]

I honestly love that song, makes you realize that no matter what, even if you're at your lowest point, you'll come back fighting

[JMP]

Ah, this chapter was fantastic. Really love how far Coco's come, and she was badass in this chapter.

[Quillamore]

8545080

I'm glad you liked it! I was a bit unsure of it, since I kinda glossed over the opposition in favor of having a CocoBabs pep talk. But I'm glad the Coco development overshadowed any mistakes it might've had.

This is turning into a "badass moms" fic, and while I didn't exactly plan that, I love that about IYGALL.

[Golden Fang Ryu Shenron]

“Mosely Orange,” she yelled with everything she had, every memory of her time with Babs fluttering through her mind, “no matter what you keep telling yourself, I never loved you !”

Yeah, Coco! Take that bastard Mosely down!

[Midknight Defender]

Now that is a line to end a chapter on!