Whiskey Tango Foxtrot, Part 2: Talk To Me

by brokenimage321

Age 10, First Verse

It was a bright, sunshiny spring day, with fresh leaves on the trees, and the smell of flowers in the air. Pinkie Pie took a deep breath as she trotted down the lane, then nodded greetings to a pair of ponies she passed. Today was a good day, she thought. Spring was her favorite season, and days like this were the reason why—nice and warm, with the birds singing in the trees, and with everypony smiling.

Plus, the boogers had finally gone on that field trip, the one they’d been talking about for months. It was just a short daytrip to the Natural History Museum in Canterlot, not a big trip by any means—but, well, baking didn’t allow for many extras, and even a trip like this was huge for them. Whiskey was excited to see the dragon skeletons, Tango the astronomy exhibit, and Foxie the gem and mineral collection. In fact, they had been so excited that, this afternoon, she’d closed up shop for an hour or so—enough time to meet them at the station, to see their bright, smiling faces, and to hear about their big adventure all the way home.

She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she almost missed Cheerilee as she passed her.

Suddenly, Pinkie froze. She heard a sound in the back of her mind, like a single piano note, played on an instrument in desperate need of a tuning. Slowly, she turned around—and there she was, bobbing away down the street, headed the opposite direction. Pinkie swallowed, then jogged after Cheerilee, catching up with her in a few steps.

Cheerilee plodded along, head down. She wore enormous saddlebags, packed full to bursting, with worksheets and essays poking out the top. The bags under her eyes were almost as large.

“Heya, Cheery,” Pinkie said as she fell into step beside her. A quick waterfall of isolated piano notes jangled in her mind, like someone had dropped a wingnut on the wires. “How you doing?” she asked her, trying to ignore the sound.

Cheerilee looked up and smiled—but, far too quickly, her smile collapsed again. “Hey, Pinkie,” she said. “I’m doing alright. Just…” She shrugged, jostling her saddlebags, making the papers inside rustle pointedly. “The joys of being a teacher.”

Pinkie nodded. “I know what you mean,” she said. She swallowed, valiantly trying to ignore the pony who had started playing Chopsticks on that broken old piano of theirs. “I mean,” she continued, “I haven’t graded many papers myself—but get a little behind on bakery orders, and…”

Cheerilee nodded. “Everything just piles up.” She sighed heavily. “But, to be completely honest,” she said, “things were a little easier today. After all, your little ones were out.”

Pinkie’s eyes went wide. A pause—then the piano in her head began to play rapid scales.

Cheerilee hadn’t noticed. “I know that I’m their aunt and all,” she was saying, “but I hate having to teach them, too… I have to be the stern disciplinarian in the classroom, and the ‘cool aunt’ when I see them at home—”

“The, uh…” Pinkie interrupted. She hesitated again, then swallowed. “The kids weren’t at school today?”

Cheerilee glanced over at Pinkie uncertainly. “No,” she said slowly. “Weren’t they sick? I found a doctor’s note under the door this morning…”

The scales grew louder—louder, and more frantic. She swallowed, trying to force them down. “B-b-but wasn’t there a f-field trip today?” she stammered. “C-Canterlot? F-for the fifth graders?”

A second piano had joined in, pounding so loud that Pinkie almost couldn’t hear.

Cheerilee frowned. “Field trip?” she asked, confused.

Crack. A piano wire snapped. And suddenly, all was very, very still.

Cheerilee walked a few more steps before she realized that Pinkie was no longer beside her. She turned and walked back to where she stood in the middle of the road, stock-still and eyes wide. “Everything alright?” Cheerilee asked uncertainly.

For a moment, Pinkie did not move. Then, she spoke, so quiet she was almost inaudible.

“I have to go,” she said.

Pinkie turned and sprinted for home. In her head, a whole flock of broken pianos, joined by a full-sized brass band, had started pounding out William Tell.

* * *

Pinkie threw open the front door, sending it crashing against the plaster. “Kids?” she shrieked into the silent bakery. The brass band had swelled to a whole satanic orchestra, screaming the 1812 Overture. And someone had started breaking windows.

Cheerilee ran up beside her, panting. “Check the kitchen,” Pinkie barked. She knew they would not be in the kitchen.

Pinkie ran for the stairs, vaulted the “PRIVATE” chain, and took the staircase three steps at a time. “Kids?!” she screamed. She ran to their bedroom and practically tore the door off its hinges. She looked inside and froze.

The room was spotless. Tango’s books were neatly organized on his shelf, Foxie’s colored pencils had found their way into their box, and Whiskey’s dance flats had finally been tucked under her bed.

But the blankets and pillows were gone. And their saddlebags were not hanging from their pegs.

And, taped to the wooden foot of Foxie’s bed was an envelope marked “Mama.”

Pinkie leapt forward and snatched up the envelope. She tried frantically to open it, scrabbling uselessly at the paper, until Cheerilee appeared by her side and took the envelope, gently but firmly, in her hooves. She silently gripped one of the short edges in her teeth, tore it free, then handed it back to Pinkie. Pinkie upended the envelope, and a single sheet of lined paper fluttered out. She unfolded it with shaking hooves, as the orchestra in her head settled into an agonizing drum roll:

Dear Mama,

We have gone to Canterlot by ourselves. We are going on the train. Don’t worry. We are going to go find Daddy.

FWHEEEEEEEEEEEE

A steam whistle exploded in Pinkie’s brain, its high-pitched squeal making her knees wobble and collapse. “They’re—they—we—”

Cheerilee took the letter and scanned it. “They left this morning,” she said. “Number four train. They should be—”

She looked up and paled. Pinkie had scrambled out of the room. “Pinkie!” she cried, and dashed after her.

Pinkie ran into the town square. She looked up frantically. Train station—where— But all she could see was color, whirling colors, blues and greens and whites and dark brown and cream and pink and oh god, the kids—

She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t scream. Clouds gathered and the colors swirled and the sky grew darker and the clouds turned purple and—

“Pinkie, breathe,” Twilight commanded.

She took a deep, shuddering breath.

“Again.”

Pinkie took a second one, and, slowly, the colors started to resolve. She was in the town square. And ponies were milling about, some looking at her. And Cheerilee stood off to the side, looking worried. And Twilight Sparkle had her gripped tight by the shoulders.

“That better?” she asked.

Pinkie did a little half-nod—then gave her head a half-shake—then the walls started to close in again—

“Pinkie, stay with me,” Twilight barked. “Breathe.”

Pinkie took another deep breath, then stared up at Twilight.

“The kids—” she gasped. “They—they’re—” And her eyes started to glass over again.

Twilight gave her a little shake. “Pinkie, snap out of it!” she cried. “What happened?”

Cheerilee stepped forward and handed her the note. “They left this,” she said. Twilight unfolded it and read it carefully—then folded it up again decisively. “Right,” she said. “They’re in Canterlot. So that’s where we’re going.”

Pinkie looked up at her. “We’re—?”

“We’re going after them,” she finished for her. “I’m sure they’re okay, but we need to get them. Canterlot’s not a bad town, but it’s not a place for three little foals on their own.” She looked over at Cheerilee. “You coming?”

Her eyes widened, and she shook her head. “I’m needed at home,” she said. “And, uh…” she swallowed. “I think Pinkie’s in good hooves now.”

Twilight nodded. “Thanks,” she said. “We’ll keep you posted.” Twilight grabbed Pinkie by the hoof, then marched towards the train station. Pinkie followed, mystified.

“W-what are we gonna do?” she whimpered.

Twilight glanced back at her, then looked straight ahead again. “We’re gonna find your kids,” she said again.

“B-but how?” she almost-whined. “Canterlot’s so big, and…”

Twilight looked back at her again, and examined her carefully for a moment. “Do you remember when I had them over for a weekend, a year or two ago?”

Pinkie nodded.

Twilight sighed. “Well, I… I put a tracking spell on them.”

Pinkie looked up in alarm, but said nothing.

“I did it for Rory years ago,” she said. “And I thought they could use it, too. Now, all we need to do is get to Canterlot, and I can take you straight to them.”

Pinkie nodded blankly, only the faintest spark of comprehension making it past her fear.

Twilight tugged on her arm. “Come on,” she said, “let’s pick up the pace. There should be a train leaving soon…”

* * *

Foxie pressed her nose to the window. “Look!” she cried. “Canterlot!”

Whiskey and Tango joined her at the window.

As they watched, the train rounded the mountain, bringing the gleaming white castle of Canterlot, and the city surrounding it, into view.

“Whoa,” Whiskey said, breathlessly.

Tango whistled appreciatively. He watched the city for a moment, then let out a long, slow sigh and bowed head. Foxie couldn’t blame him; this had been his idea, and, after months of scheming—of planning—of scrimping and saving—it was finally paying off. Everything had almost fallen apart at the last minute this morning: the nine o’clock train had been delayed, so they’d had to play regular hooky for a while—and, when it had finally arrived, it took them two or three stops to realize they were going the wrong direction. But now everything was right again, and they were almost there. Close enough that they could almost taste it.

Tango kept his head down for several long heartbeats. Finally, he raised his head and stared at the city again. “It’s big,” he said. “A lot bigger than Ponyville…”

Whiskey shook her head. “Don’t worry about it,” she said. “We’ll be okay.”

Foxie grinned. The city was big, true—but it was also beautiful. It shone in the mid-afternoon sunlight, almost like one of Mama’s cupcakes.

Mama…

Foxie peeled herself away from the window and sat, then bowed her head. Whiskey noticed her first and pulled away from the window, then sat beside her. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

Foxie glanced back out the window; Tango, still standing beside it, was watching her with worry. “It’s, just…” she shrugged. “I feel bad for Mama.”

Whiskey and Tango looked at each other. Tango sighed, then sat down on her other side. “Me, too,” he said. “I mean—we’ve played plenty of pranks. But this is different. This time, we actually tricked her.”

Foxie nodded, as did Whiskey. “And the cupcakes,” Whiskey added. “She tried so hard for us…”

“An’ we sold ‘em,” Foxie interjected, bitterly. “Sold ‘em at lunch for whatever change they had.” She shook her head. “All her effort, wasted...”

Tango looked up sharply. “It wasn’t a waste,” he said, quickly. Both of his sisters looked at him; he stared back, his gaze hard and flinty. “Mama made those cupcakes because she wanted to make sure we were taken care of,” he said. “And now, because she made them for us—” he turned his gaze back to the city. “Now we’ll get taken care of better than ever.”

Foxie watched him carefully, then slowly nodded. She sat back against the seat and sighed. Yes, she thought. Better than ever.

If we can just…

She shook her head, then looked out the window again, at the fast-approaching city.

* * *

“Thanks,” Twilight said, curtly. She picked up her two tickets, then turned and pulled Pinkie towards the platform. She followed, easily enough, but still walked in a daze.

Twilight thought for a moment, then sighed. She really couldn’t blame her—after all, if anything happened to Rory, or to little Borealis… well, probably react like Pinkie was. Worse, even. Either that, or she’d tear Equestria apart to find them.

She whispered a little prayer to Celestia that she would never have to find out which.

Twilight led Pinkie across the platform, then onto the waiting train. The conductor had agreed to hold the train for Her Royal Highness Princess Twilight Sparkle for a few minutes (one of the few times in recent memory she’d enjoyed using her full title). As soon as they were aboard, one of the conductors closed the door behind them then hurried to the front. A moment later, and the engine began to chug, and the car lurched forward.

Twilight stumbled, but kept to her hooves. She pulled Pinkie along, and guided her into a seat. As she sat down across from her, she sighed; she hadn’t liked lying to Pinkie like that. True, she had cast a tracking spell on her kids, but it was only good for the weekend, and would only let her know if they were going someplace they weren’t supposed to, like up onto the rooftop, or into her personal office, or into the library. No spell she knew of would last a year and a half, nor would it let her find them that easily. She had hoped that it would help calm Pinkie down—that, if she had a little bit of hope to hold on to, that she would start to see sense.

Well. Time for a different tactic.

“Pinkie?” she said gently. Pinkie did not react.

“Pinkie,” Twilight repeated, a little more insistent. Pinkie jerked her head up, as if snapping awake.

“Huh?” she said, distractedly.

“Pinkie,” Twilight repeated again, “We need to think. Why are they going to Canterlot? And what are they hoping to find there? That would give us a place to start, at least.”

Pinkie’s bottom lip started to tremble. “I thought you said you had a spell—”

Twilight nodded vigorously. “I do,” she said. “But we need to have an idea where to start looking. The spell has a limited range.”

Not a lie; the range was “within eyesight.”

Pinkie swallowed. “W-well,” she said, “I… I don’t think I’ve told them much… at all...”

Twilight nodded. A little surprising, but not unexpected.

“B-but… I think they might have overheard me, once...” Pinkie looked out the window and fell silent.

Twilight watched her carefully, but she did not speak again. Finally, Twilight cleared her throat. “And where do you think we should start?” she said.

Pinkie looked back at Twilight, her expression blank. “I-I don’t know where they’re gonna go, but…” Something sparked behind her eyes. “Maybe…”

Twilight leaned forward, expectantly.

Pinkie set her jaw. “A dance hall,” she said. “I first met Tricky at a dance hall.”

Twilight cocked her head. Tricky…?

* * *

The train whistle blew as the three little foals disembarked. Tango looked around, and his eyes went wide.

He walked across the platform, through the train station, and into the streets—and stared. He had read about Canterlot, of course—but knowing its population numbered in the tens of thousands was different than actually seeing it. The road was packed with more ponies than he had ever seen in his life—and all the side-streets and skyscrapers only spoke of more.

He sat down, hard, on the sidewalk, the mass of moving ponies flowing around him like water. Whiskey and Foxie walked up beside him as he stared, wide-eyed, at the crowd. For a moment, all three were silent, just taking it all in.

“Tango, you blockhead,” Whiskey growled suddenly. “How are we gonna find Daddy in all this?”

Tango looked back up at her, mystified. She glared back at him, tears just beginning to gather in her eyes.

He swallowed. “I dunno,” he said uncertainly. “Ask around?”

“Who do we ask?” Whiskey snapped. She cocked her head and began to speak in a nasally whine. “Hello, policeman? We’re three foals in need of a daddy. Do you know of a daddy in need of foals?”

“Hey, can it!” Tango spat, climbing to his hooves. “This was your idea, too—don’t put this on me!”

“Yeah, well, you’re the egghead who was supposed to think this all through!” she shot back. “That’s your job, isn’t it? Mine is to beat people up, and yours is to use that brain of yours, and Foxie’s—”

She glanced over his shoulder, and suddenly fell silent. Slowly, she leaned to one side to get a better look at whatever was lurking bheind him. Tango followed her gaze uncertainty—and saw Foxie, standing tall, with her head held high and her eyes closed, humming quietly to herself.

It took Tango a moment to realize that she was swaying slightly on her hooves, and, as she leaned this way and that, the pitch of her hum slid up and down.

“Foxie?” Whiskey said carefully, “What in Equestria are you doing…?”

“Shshshsh,” Foxie hissed under her breath. She turned her head slightly to the left, towards the two of them, and held that pose for a moment, before taking a single side-step towards them.

Tango stepped backwards and Whiskey flared her wings. “Watch it, Foxie,” Tango said warningly. A big stallion walking down the sidewalk with the crowd huffed irritably, then, with his nose up in the air, joined the throngs walking around them.

But Foxie did not notice. She turned her head the other way, her humming getting higher and higher, then staggered two or three steps to her right until she was facing the flow of traffic. Suddenly, her hum ended with a pleasant little flourish.

Foxie opened her eyes and smiled. “Come on,” she said over her shoulder, “Daddy’s this way!” And, with that, she broke into a bouncy little trot.

Tango and Whiskey looked at each other, then scrambled after her. Tango caught up to her first, and fell into step beside her.

“Daddy’s this way?” he repeated incredulously.

She nodded cheerfully. “Yep!”

He frowned. “But… how do you know?”

She looked over at him. She held her gaze for just a moment—but, in that moment, her smile hardened. Her look was no longer schoolfilly glee—but fierce determination.

“I have a feeling,” she said, with all the gravity her little body could muster.

And she picked up the pace, Tango beside her, Whiskey struggling to follow in the crowd.

* * *

“Pinkie,” Twilight said, gently, “I think it’s time we... talked. But I don’t mean to pry—so, please say so if you don’t want to answer—”

Pinkie nodded encouragingly.

Twilight took a deep breath, then spoke. “What… what happened? Between you and… you and, um… Tricky?” Twilight glanced up at her. She opened her mouth, and, before she knew it, she was babbling again: “I mean, it’s none of my business what you do behind closed doors, but I think it might be important now since the kids are going after him and…”

Pinkie stared at her, eyes watering, then reached out and touched her hoof. “It’s alright,” she said.

Twilight stuttered to a halt, mid-sentence. She swallowed, then looked up at Pinkie with apologetic eyes.

“It’s alright,” she repeated. “I… I think I can talk about it, now.” She smiled a little at Twilight, then turned to look out the window. She was quiet for a long time—so long, in fact, that Twilight thought she might have forgotten her, lost somewhere in the hallways of her own mind.

And then, suddenly, she spoke.

“Hat Trick,” she said.

Twilight opened her mouth. She held it there for just a moment, almost as if was going to speak, but quietly closed it again.

“Hat Trick was his name,” Pinkie repeated quietly. “He… he was a distributor. Sold party supplies, including food dyes—that’s why he was at the baking competition, you know. Wanted to see who was using what, and who he might be able to sell to.” She was quiet for just a moment. “He was young, he was smart, and he loved to party. And he had the money for it, too—inherited the business from his dad, or something. Small, but profitable.” She sighed. “He saw me there, covered in frosting—musta caught his eye then—but it was only later, when we bumped into each other at the dance hall, that something just clicked. He was handsome...” She chuckled. “...but I was still a little frazzled from baking. And still, he…”

Pinkie trailed off, watching the rolling hills outside her window. Twilight shuffled awkwardly.

“Whirlwind romance, I think, is the word,” Pinkie began again. “It was all so sudden—but that just made it feel like a fairy tale. ‘Love at first sight,’ and all that. One minute, I was at the competition… the next, we were dancing at one of the clubs… and, the next, we were in his room, doing an entirely different kind of dancing.” She chuckled darkly. “For a little while, it was beautiful… But it didn’t take long for the cracks to show.”

Pinkie was quiet for another moment. “Tricky… He was funny, and smart, and we had so much fun together. But, I’m a giver—always have been… and Tricky was a taker. And I mean that. Almost everything he did, he took.” She hesitated. “Every business deal—even with me—was always about him. How much he could squeeze out of the pony on the other end. And when we partied—well, I always tried to make sure everyone was having a good time. But Tricky was only there for him. He wanted to have fun, no matter who else got ignored. Or hurt.”

Twilight sucked in a breath, but said nothing.

Pinkie continued as if she hadn’t noticed. “It came in other ways, too,” she said. “Like, whenever we disagreed, he always played the victim. ‘How come we always do what you want to do,’ that sort of thing. And yet, despite all that…” She sighed. “I was happy.”

Twilight caught sight of her smile in the window—and watched it turn to a frown. “Or, at least, I thought I was,” she said. “I don’t even know if I can explain it—as long as we were doing what suited him, whether it was dancing, or drinking, or sex, it was so much fun. More than I’d ever had. I thought I’d found my pot of gold at the end of the rainbow—a stallion who could take care of me, who I could have fun with, who would stay by my side forever. And, all his little spots of tarnish could be polished away—I could solve them, just like any other friendship problem we’ve ever had.” She hesitated. “And then...”

She was quiet for a long time, this time. Twilight looked away, then glanced back—and saw her face in the window again, tears rolling down her cheeks. Twilight’s eyes widened, then she leaned in and put her hoof on her shoulder. Pinkie straightened up, as if electrified. She stayed that way for a moment, then sagged.

“I had planned a romantic dinner and everything,” she said quietly. “I was a month or two along by that time—you know how it goes. And I wanted it to be a special moment, for both of us. This would be how we would fix things. This would be the answer to all our problems. This would be what we needed to really be happy. And, when I told him—” she shivered. “He blamed me for it. Said it was my fault. That I had lied to him. That I was being selfish. That I was going to ruin his life.”

Slowly, she turned to look at Twilight. Twilight shrank back—Pinkie’s gaze was a pit of hollowness and fear.

“He said that he never wanted kids,” she said. “And that I was a moron for thinking he ever would.”

Author's Note:

Raise of hands: who kinda went "Oh, horseapples?"

Thanks to Keith, who suggested the name for Hat Trick: "three consecutive goals --> three consecutive foals."

Comments

[brokenimage321]

7303563

That is a good addition! I'll plug it in when I'm not on mobile anymore. Thanks!

[Prince Gray]

Well damn. He sounds like a real pos. I wonder if he pressured Pinkie into getting an abortion or he was going to leave her and made her choose. If so, we know her choice was obvious of course.

I wonder if he was an earth pony, a Pegasus or a unicorn...

[Wacky]

7303755 Thanks! I try. Of course my parents always said I was very trying...

Another great chapter. Loved the foals plan (it's what I imagined them doing too!), and hope they find some closure to this event, even if they don't get the dad they've wanted.

[Troublesome Beast]

Oh, hi, there's the gut punches I was ready for.

Oooof. A little different seeing 'em like this.

[Uros]

Tricky fits: That clown is an asshole, this one is too. I never thought I would reference Madness Combat in here, but hey!

[brokenimage321]

BTW, sorry not sorry for yanking everyone's collective chain about Dad's identity. Curious: did I happen to catch anyone with the R63 Trixie/Tricky switch?

7303873
7303800
7303894
I'm glad it's working for you--and, just wait until we get to tomorrow

7304184
What's Madness Combat?

7303887

Added a little bit about diabeetus to the chapter 9 notes

[Troublesome Beast]

7305102 You know what scene I'm looking for to SUDDENLY! appear.

[Uros]

7305102
BLASPHEMY!

http://www.newgrounds.com/collection/madness.html

Have at you :3

[brokenimage321]

7306378

Ooo! Happy birthday! I'll be publishing the next chapter about 10 am MDT, if you want to count that as a birthday present