Where Did I Come From?

by bahatumay

How She Stayed There

The blood drained from Applejack's face, and she subconsciously gripped the filly tighter.

Rainbow shot up and stepped forward, eyes narrowed. “We're not giving her back!”

Detective Cane cracked a smile. “I'm not sure where you got that idea, Miss Dash; I merely asked him to corroborate your story.”

***

Detective Cane Sugar glanced over the weather-beaten wooden door, and his lip curled distastefully. He made sure to rotate his hoof so that he would only be knocking with the metal of his ponyshoe and not touching any of the splintery parts with his hoof.

“Who is it?” called a voice from inside.

Cane grinned. “It’s me, genius,” he said harshly.

The door quickly opened, and a pony with a patchy red coat and scraggly brown mane poked his head out. His ears drooped as he saw Cane. He had clearly been expecting someone else. He shifted his weight, clearly debating if he should just slam the door shut again.

Cane kept his head low in subtle submission. “I’m just here to talk.”

The pony at the door smiled nervously, revealing two front teeth with a noticeable gap. “I can say no, right?”

“You could; but then I’d probably come back with a warrant and kick your door in.” His nose crinkled. “And judging by the current condition of the door, I’d say you don’t exactly have the bits to replace that, now, do you?”

He grimaced, but stepped aside. There was a short stare-down; Cane was not about to let him get behind him. Finally, the pony broke and walked in with Cane following a safe distance behind. Cane's eyes flicked to the stallion's cutie mark, a stylized microphone.

His host sat down on the couch. Cane looked at the other sofa and lifted his sunglasses, raising an eyebrow critically at the moth-eaten seat with his cold, gray eyes, and elected to stand. “I trust you know why I’m here?” he said.

“Is it about Green?”

“Green?” Cane asked innocently.

“Yeah. The filly. Her mother was hammered when she gave birth and just never gave her a name, so I just called her Green.”

One edge of Cane’s mouth tightened. “I see.”

“Then she got a new dealer because she wanted something harder and overdosed on something. They found her dead in an alley. I just… my life fell apart.”

Cane glanced around at the peeling wallpaper and the sagging ceiling, and found it difficult to believe that his life had been remotely together at all in the first place.

“So I’m stuck by myself raising a filly and I’m no good at this. I can't hold down a job; I can't afford her. So I’m drinkin’, trying to cope with all of this. And she- she just wouldn’t stop crying. She wouldn't stop crying.”

Cane raised an eyebrow.

“I mean, we all do dumb things while drunk, you know?” he wheedled, trying to get some pity.

“I’ve found other ways of coping with stress,” Cane shrugged. “Baking happens to be a passion of mine.”

“I just couldn’t get her to shut up. So I put her in time-out for a bit. Y- you get me, right?”

“Is that what they call it these days?” Cane asked dryly.

“Yeah. I would have gone back to get her…”

Cane snorted derisively. “Horseapples. All I got from that was a confession for attempted murder in the second degree.”

His ears and jaw dropped. “Wait. What?”

“I read her medical report. You beat her, put your cigarette out on her, then left her in a dumpster and abandoned her; and no judge is ever going to believe that you intended to come back for her. Combine that with the abuse charge, and no jury is going to have an ounce of sympathy for you.”

The stallion started hyperventilating. His eyes flicked repeatedly from the shockstick on the detective’s saddlebag to the door behind him, as if gauging his chances.

“I wouldn’t,” Cane said loftily. “Resisting arrest in combination with your other charges would make you a flight risk, which pretty much guarantees that you won’t be allowed to post bail. Oh, and the stories they tell about foal abusers in prison? I can assure you, they're all sugarcoated.”

His fear turned to desperation. “Come on,” he pleaded. “There’s gotta be something, anything, you can do? Help me out?”

Cane waited a few moments, pretending to think. Then he inhaled, held it for a moment, then exhaled. “There is one thing,” he said, withdrawing a paper from his saddlebag. “Your daughter was found by two mares, who did the job you should have done and took care of her. You sign this paper relinquishing custody over to them, and I'll see that your charges are reduced to abuse and neglect and endangerment of a foal.”

He examined the paper, looking at their signatures and the dates. “This says it’s dated, like, a month ago?”

“Congratulations, you’re literate,” Cane said flatly as he retrieved a pen from his saddlebag.

The pony squinted. “This isn't exactly legal, is it?”

“Attempted murder carries a minimum penalty of twenty years in prison, with a mandatory three month stay in solitary confinement. Your call.”

Blood drained from his face. He slowly stretched out a hoof for the pen. “Where do I sign?”

***

“As it turns out, he was all too happy to show me a paper showing that he had relinquished all custody of the unnamed filly. It was a good thing he had that, too; had he not, he would have been charged with second-degree attempted murder by abandoning her in a dumpster, and that's a messy amount of paperwork.”

“So he's just walking away scot-free?” Rainbow demanded.

Cane chuckled. “Of course not. He's being charged with neglect and endangerment for dropping her off in that dumpster, and abuse of a foal for the bruises and burns.”

“But those charges don't offer parole, either,” Pinkie pointed out.

Rainbow glanced over. How did she know that?

“True, but that's neither here nor there,” Cane said smoothly. “The point is, I’ve discovered a strange coincidence. It seems that this paper—notarized, of course—that he signed relinquishing custody is dated the morning you found the filly.”

***

The notary behind the desk looked up with a pleasant, inviting smile at the sound of his door bells, but it was quickly replaced with a surly grimace. “Detective Cane,” he grumbled. “You got a warrant?”

Detective Cane Sugar chuckled. “Most ponies start with 'good morning',” he observed dryly.

“Most ponies don't have our history,” the notary spat.

“As I recall, all the charges against you were dropped,” Cane said airily. “And correct me if I’m wrong, but I’d say your business with the… shadier citizens of Canterlot did nothing but increase dramatically afterwards.”

The pony glared. Clearly, this was not comforting. “I’ve still had enough of your horseapples and meddling to last me the rest of my life. Either show me the warrant, or get out.”

“Actually, today I’m here on business,” Cane said, reaching back into his saddlebag. “I need this notarized, saying you witnessed it being signed.”

The notary squinted suspiciously, but picked up the proffered paper. He scanned over it. “Basic relinquishment of custody,” he read. “Date, time, all signatures; exactly what’s required, nothing more, nothing less.” He looked back up. “What’s your game?” he demanded.

“Game?” Cane asked innocently.

“You’re up to something. You always are.”

A tiny smile played at Cane’s lips. “Now, now, Mr. Legalese, let’s not throw around groundless accusations.”

The notary scowled.

Cane continued, “I assure you, this will not involve you in any way. These kinds of papers are rubber-stamped and left to yellow away in folders.”

“And if I decide it's not worth my time to, you know, illegally sign this?”

“Then we might end up stationing a few royal guards on the street outside your shop. Nothing wrong with that, really; it’s public property, and some shopkeepers in this area might well appreciate the added security. But that might give the impression that you are under our protection, like you ratted somepony out for us and now we’re covering your flank. Now, I'm not on a beat anymore; but I wonder, do they still have that cutesy little snitches saying on the street? Snitches get stitches? Snitches lay in ditches? Something like that?”

The notary groaned and rested his head on the desk. “You're breaking my balls, Cane…” he growled. “Fine. I’ll sign your stupid paper.”

Cane smiled. “Thank you,” he said pleasantly.

“Shove off.”

***

Rainbow’s ears pricked up.

Came continued, “That would mean that technically it can’t be foalnapping because you both also signed on the line that morning, accepting custody of this filly.” He held out the paper, and sure enough, their signatures were there.

Applejack looked over the paper. “Ah didn’t sign thi-”

The other members of her family present (with varying degrees of subtlety) all hit her in the ribs, and she quickly shut her mouth.

Cane Sugar continued as if he hadn’t heard. “This notarized paper, which is a legal document that is quite valid in court, says that in the eyes of the law, you were definitely her legal guardians as of that morning.”

Gears started to turn in Rainbow’s mind. “So when I brought her home from the hospital…”

“It was a rather… unorthodox way of having your filly released, but technically legal. Patients and their legal guardians, after all, always have the right to revoke consent to treatment and refuse medical care at any time.” Cane cracked a smile. “Because if they held a pony against their will; well, now, that would be foalnapping, wouldn't it?”

“So they're her parents now?” Apple Bloom had to ask.

“That would only make them legal guardians; but since you said you had adopted her, I thought I'd go do a little more digging. After all, I have always believed that the best way to investigate a suspect's story is to try and prove a story right. Sure enough, I found this.” He pulled yet another paper out, this one printed on thick ivory paper. “As it turns out, there's a high court ruling that permits a judge to grant an adoption by unmarried ponies in extenuating circumstances, such as the death of a parent where an older sibling can obtain guardianship of their younger siblings. Your paperwork had been fast-tracked, of course. You came… highly recommended.”

***

The clerk looked over at the rotating display. “Number 415?” she called.

She was mildly taken aback to see a good-sized olive-colored stallion approach the bench, wearing a police saddlebag.

“Hi,” she said hesitantly.

“Good afternoon. I’m here to file an adoption request.”

Her eyes flicked over him. “I see.”

He withdrew the paper from his bag. “Oh, I’m not the applicant.”

She paused and retracted her hoof. “The law states that one or both of the ponies requesting adoption must be physically present.”

“But subsection j of section four of that same law permits another authorized pony to file the request under exigent circumstances, and I think living in another city a good two hour’s journey from here and being unable to sit in line all day counts.” He cracked a small smile. “And I'd like to think all of the law enforcement officers here are trustworthy enough to file a paper or two.”

There was no good way for her to answer this, so she settled for smiling weakly and taking the proffered paper.

Then she frowned. She lifted her glasses, but the name under ‘references as to the upstanding character of applicant’ remained the same. She swallowed, unsure if she were being pranked or not. “For one of the references you’ve put down Princess Celestia,” she said hesitantly.

“I have indeed. I do hope I got that address right. 1600 Pennsylmania Ave.?”

The clerk didn’t laugh. “You do know we are legally required to send a letter requesting a recommendation to everypony on this list, right?” she asked nervously.

“As this matter involves two of the bearers of the elements of Harmony, I believe this could be considered a matter of national security; and, as such, I think our princess would be quite interested to know of this development in the lives of some of the strongest protectors of Equestria, don’t you?”

The clerk grimaced, knowing that her name was going on this request, but decided that he had a point; and, as middlemare, she wouldn’t catch too much flack if this went south. She nodded and pulled a half-hearted smile on her face. “Then I’ll get this filed,” she said.

***

Applejack took the paper and looked it over. Her ears lowered in shock. “This is an adoption certificate,” she stammered as her eyes flicked across the paper. Then her eyes widened and her ears pinned to her skull as she recognized Princess Celestia's signature across the bottom line marked 'judge presiding'.

“Indeed,” Cane observed dispassionately.

A stunned silence reigned. Not even Pinkie Pie moved.

“Congratulations, it's a filly!” Came said brightly.

“Our filly?” Rainbow asked, stunned.

“Your filly,” Cane confirmed.

“Her name space is blank,” Applejack observed. “Didn’t her father say anything about her name?”

“He did not,” Cane said loftily. “But adoption is a new beginning, Miss Applejack, and I’ve always found it a fitting tradition that the mother name her foal.”

Rainbow nodded in agreement, and looked over at Applejack… who was looking back at her. She glanced up and Cane was looking back at her as well. Her eyes flicked over and Mac and Apple Bloom and even Pinkie Pie was looking expectantly at her.

Her wings flared and she jumped up, hovering in the air. “Wha- me?”

Nodding answered her. Pinkie waved a hoof encouragingly.

Rainbow began to breathe a bit faster. “Me?” she repeated. “I- I've never named a foal before!”

Applejack picked up the little filly and held her out. “Now's your chance,” she said.

Rainbow instinctively reached out and took her. She held her up and looked at her, holding her as she hovered in the air.

The filly giggled—she enjoyed the sensation of flying—and reached up to paw at Rainbow's mane. Rainbow chuckled right back and then leaned in and affectionately kissed her forehead, nuzzling her and trailing up to the golden stripe in her mane…

She pulled back. “Goldenrod,” she said suddenly.

“Goldenrod?”

“Yeah. What do you think?”

“Ah think you got it. Goldenrod,” Applejack murmured, rolling the name across her tongue. “I like it.”

“Goldenrod?”

“Goldenrod,” Applejack confirmed. She turned her head and booped the filly gently on the nose with her own. “Goldenrod.”

Goldenrod giggled, pleased with her new name even if she didn’t quite understand it.

“New filly, new name, new family! That sounds like an excuse for a party if ever I heard one!” Pinkie Pie proclaimed, throwing a hoofful of confetti into the air. She turned to look at Cane. “You’re staying, right?”

Cane Sugar cracked a half-smile. “I’m afraid I can’t. Duty calls, miss Pie, and I must be going.”

“But-”

“Just doing my job, ma'am.”

“At least take a cupcake?” She held out a platter from… somewhere, loaded with cupcakes.

Cane cracked a smile and accepted a cupcake. “Thank you. You take care now.” And with that, he respectfully tapped his sunglasses, turned and left.

Silence reigned in the house for a few moments, until Applejack finally broke it. “Ah think that's it,” she said. “We won.”

Apple Bloom poked the filly’s belly, and she giggled. “You hear that? You’re staying with us forever!”

“Gah!” Goldenrod agreed happily.

Rainbow, still unconvinced, dashed out after the departing detective. “Hold up,” she said, stopping him at the base of the porch stairs.

Cane Sugar looked back at her, his expression only mildly curious as he offhandedly abandoned the cupcake on the porch railing.

“That's not what actually happened, is it?” she demanded.

Cane shrugged. “Of course not; but that's what it says happened in the report I filed,” he said airily. “Take good care of Goldenrod.”

“I will. I promise. But can't you tell me what you actually did?”

A tiny smile played at Cane's lips as he turned to leave for real this time. “I've given you the official story,” he said, “and I'm afraid I can't say any more than that. But Princess Celestia might be able to give you an unofficial version if you really want to know.”

Rainbow dropped to the ground in shock. “Celestia? You went that high up?”

“More like she came to me for a little explanation when she got the letter requesting a character reference for you two with my return address on it. She hadn't even heard you were in the adoption market. You really should keep in touch with her more; she's quite the pleasant pony.” He cracked a smile. “Though she did disappoint chief Stalwart when he found out she wasn't there to fire me. The look on his face is a memory I'll treasure forever.”

“But-”

“Miss Dash, as much as I'd enjoy continuing this conversation, I do have to go,” Cane said firmly. “I have... other cases I'm working on.”

Rainbow closed her mouth and settled for waving goodbye before trotting back inside.

* * *

Detective Cane Sugar had a reputation. After every case he closed, the file-sorters would always talk.

“Think that was all legit?” one asked. He had just started working here, and was trying to feel his way around the station politics.

One of his companions, a little more experienced mare with a spiral notebook for a cutie mark, barked a laugh. “With Cane Sugar? You're kidding, right? That guy's shadier than a whole forest of palm trees. I’m betting he squeezed no less than three ponies to get that all to work out.”

The first paused. “Think we should do something, then? Report this to somepony?” he asked.

The mare raised an eyebrow. “You want to be the one to request an investigation and take a foal away from a family she knows and loves and throw her back into the overcrowded foster system, where she’ll be tossed from family to family until she’s dumped on the street at eighteen?”

The first pony stared into his cup of coffee. “Well, no; not when you put it that way…”

“Alrighty then. I'll drop it if you drop it.”

“Consider it dropped.”

Author's Note:

Detective Cane Sugar is a holdout from one of my earliest stories, FSTET: Riverton. There's almost 60,000 words in a gdoc somewhere about him. I'll probably bring him back someday. He's definitely a character I'd like to explore.

Comments

[nightwalker]

I do hope Detect. Cane shows up again, he was quite amusing here.

A very enjoyable story overall, well done.

[Hobbestc]

This was great. I loved the changes from what was said to what actually happened. I'm sure Celestia knows exactly what happened and was all for it. Great job.