Pronoia/Paranoia

by TooShyShy

Chapter 10: Trust

Twilight had learned a lot at the police academy, but she sometimes felt as if she'd learned nothing. No amount of tests and simulations could prepare her for the reality of field work or the thrill of desk work. That was stuff she had to learn on her own in the months after her graduation.

She'd been told that she'd hate the work, that it would cause her heart to wither, that she'd either turn dirty or become a husk. That was what Canterlot did to those who dared try to cleanse it: the city sucked them dry and spat out what was left of their corpse. Shining Armor had rescued himself from this fate by finding Cadence. But Twilight had been less fortunate in that department. There was no Cadence in her life, nopony to act as her guardian angel. She knew from the beginning that the city was going to eat her alive, but that never stopped her. In her own way, Twilight was making amends for something that wasn't her fault. It was partly the guilt that drove Twilight to the force.

But the city didn't eat her alive. It definitely tried on more than one occasion, yet it never successfully consumed Twilight's spirit. She watched from the sidelines as many of her fellow cops stumbled and fell headfirst into that deep chasm of sin at the heart of the city. Later on Twilight could say it was Spike who'd kept her head above water, but he hadn't exactly rescued her. It was something else, a thought living in the cluttered attic of Twilight's head.

Twilight went straight home after her conversation with Spike. Well, it couldn't really be called a conversation. She hung up before Spike could say anything else. Twilight didn't care that she was being rude to someone she'd been worried sick about less than ten minutes ago. Now that she knew he was perfectly alright, her fear had been replaced with anger. Why in Tartarus hadn't he called her? Why had he let her worry herself half to death over his absence for so long without so much as a message? Spike knew she was stressed out over this case. He knew she was anxious. What kind of sick joke did he think this was?

I'm going to kill him, Twilight thought.

She knew at least three spells that could obliterate a dragon. Or at least she thought they could. She'd never really had a reason to test them out. Well, no time like the present, right? For Spike's sake, she hoped those scales were as resilient as they looked.

Spike was sitting on the couch, looking very much like a teenager caught out after curfew. He was leaning forward, his head bowed and his claws in his lap. The emotional deflation his body was expressing said more than a paragraph of apologies. He'd always been the one on the other side, the force of discipline and justice battling the city's villains. Spike had worked hard, fighting the odds and becoming the kind of cop the city could rely on. But clearly something had gone wrong.

Twilight faced Spike, her stern expression masking her inner turmoil. They both knew it was an act, but Twilight was especially aware of how wrong this felt. Most cops dreaded the day they'd have to drag their own partner into the interrogation room. Most cops worried about that unbreakable trust and loyalty. Most cops knew better than to form bonds with their colleagues. Corruption was Canterlot's oldest game. Any officer worth their badge had to keep their eyes open and their heart empty, more for the sake of their job than anything else. Up until Twilight met Spike, she never worried about any of those things. Who in Tartarus was she supposed to have unconditional trust in? Nopony. Nopony on the force was worth Twilight learning a harsh lesson.

But there she stood, wondering how in Celestia's name this was happening to her. Happening to them, the unstoppable force united in their mission to clean the streets of Canterlot. But this wasn't Canterlot. Twilight hadn't felt the shift in the air until now, or at least she'd ignored it. Something had changed. The life she'd built, her beliefs, her ideals. They'd all moved ever so slightly, like shadows slinking behind her back. But she hadn't noticed. She'd been blind, so used to facing one direction that she hadn't thought to take a look at what was going on right behind her.

“Talk,” she said.

Spike raised his head slightly.

Twilight could feel a completely irrational anger rising inside her. Why couldn't he look her in the eye? Why? She almost wanted to grab him with her magic and shake him, force him to look directly at her for the first time. This didn't have to be so terrible, so unfamiliar and painful. Spike was making it unfamiliar and painful, forcing this to be awkward when all he really had to do was just look at her.

“I told you,” he said. “I was out drinking with Big Macintosh.”

Twilight almost slammed her hoof on the coffee table, a dramatic display she'd often used to rattle convicts. But she stopped herself, realizing that Spike wasn't a convict. He was her friend, the only true bright spot in this miserable town. Yet he was lying to her. He knew he was lying to her, he knew she wasn't dumb enough to be satisfied by his silly stories. Yet Spike was still doing it, as if there was some personal gain tied up in his tall tales. It was like a performance, except Twilight refused to play along. She knew what Spike wanted. He wanted her to just give up and stop asking questions. He wanted her to accept his lie so they could return to their normal lives and the investigation. Twilight almost did the first time he said it, but the rotting corpse of her sanity had emerged from its makeshift grave. No, Twilight couldn't just accept bullshit from anypony, even somepony she cared about. It was part of her moral code.

“Talk,” she repeated.

She let her voice tremble for the first time, just so Spike could hear how much she needed him to be truthful. She wanted to believe he was the same dragon she'd left Canterlot with, the same dragon who liked to drink apple cider and make friends indiscriminately. The same dragon who'd told Twilight that she was the best cop in the city.

But could Twilight say she was the same pony who'd accepted the compliment with a curt nod and a smile? No, something had broken inside of her. It happened long before this case, maybe even before Twilight came to Ponyville. It was like a vase placed too close to the edge. All it took was the right bump from the right angle to send it tumbling. Something had happened to both of them a while ago and Twilight hadn't been acknowledging it. She liked to think that brutal triple-murder all those years ago had completely wrecked their world views and turned them into bitter shells, but it wasn't that simple. This wasn't like being a shell. It was more like being a bundle of new emotions. Sometimes Twilight didn't recognize herself, as if the words that came out of her mouth were being spoken by somepony else and her emotions were stolen from a Twilight who'd never had a chance to exist. A Twilight who grew up to become a university professor, her brother alive and well.

Spike stood up. He turned his head to the side, still refusing to look at Twilight. He clutched his arm, his claws shaking a little. Spike looked as if he wanted to jump out of his scales and let someone else deal with everything. But without the ability to exit his body and completely rid himself of this unfortunate situation, Spike was forced to stand there. He let himself sink further into the awkwardness, the words he spoke like a concealed plea for Twilight to just drop it. But he knew she wouldn't drop it. Twilight wasn't built that way and Spike had once been thankful for that.

“Um, sleep,” he said. “Big day, you know?”

He grinned, but Twilight could see the fight going on behind the mask. There was something he wanted—no, needed—to tell her. But he wasn't going to. Somewhere along the line, Spike had learned the elusive art of self control. He'd learned to be, well, Twilight, or at least the Twilight she thought she was before all this happened.

Twilight let him go to bed. It wasn't that she thought he'd be more honest after a long sleep. It was simply that Twilight knew when she was defeated. She couldn't have forced the truth out of him and she didn't want to try. Maybe he'd tell her, maybe he wouldn't.

At least Twilight was slightly less afraid of being in the house. Two against one—especially when she had a dragon on her side—tilted the odds in her favor. More than anything, Twilight needed to believe she had some advantage, that the scales weren't completely unbalanced. For the time being, Spike's presence would do. Twilight felt as if she could sleep, not that she planned to. But it was nice to have the option available to her.

So why did she feel so alone? Why did she find herself wandering the house like a zombie after Spike retired to bed? Was it merely the fact that Celestia would be raising the sun very soon? No, that wasn't the root of this unpleasant feeling in her gut. Twilight didn't even feel as if this was her home, and in a sense it wasn't. She'd lived there long enough for it to qualify, but it wasn't her apartment in Canterlot. It also wasn't the house she'd shared with her brother and parents for a great deal of her life. There was nothing home about this place. Not anymore.

Spike hadn't really come back, had he? Maybe he had in the physical sense, but not in any other way. The Spike she knew—the Spike who'd never lie to her, the Spike who'd never worry her half to death for any reason—was back in Canterlot. Maybe he'd been there all along and Twilight was just now realizing it. She'd been looking at things through the lens of her old life for so long. She couldn't imagine how many miscalculations she'd made. Who knew she'd become so sentimental?

A thought came to her. It had flitted across her mind before, but she'd been too preoccupied by Spike's reappearance to dwell on it. Twilight was beginning to think that her biggest weakness in this case was overlooking the mundane. Things established in the heart of her routine, inconsistencies easily overlooked even by her shrewd eye. If an explanation was waiting just out of sight, Twilight didn't bother with it. But as she swiveled that single thought into the spotlight, she realized what an idiot she was being. Nothing in this case was mundane. Even the most recognizable aspects of this boring-as-hay town deserved to be scrutinized.

As a relevant example, how in Tartarus had Spike managed to call her without his phone? The most innocent answer was that he'd just borrowed somepony else's. No big deal. It wasn't like this was a massive departure from Spike's character. But when she actually tried to line this up with the events as she understood them, her mundane explanation started to wither.

As she understood it, Spike had come home, realized his phone was missing, and proceeded to call it. Given how often he misplaced his phone, this was probably the most normal thing in the world. Except Twilight was positive her own phone was tucked away in her saddlebag. So whose phone had Spike used to call his own? Two answers presented themselves to Twilight, both of them loaded with a thousand questions she wasn't sure she wanted to answer. Either Spike had borrowed a phone from somepony else on his way home—which was ridiculously convenient—or he hadn't been alone when he returned and this mysterious guest had allowed him use of their phone.

Twilight shuddered involuntarily. The very thought of somepony—even a guest under Spike's supervision—inside her house made her feel exposed. But if somepony else had been with him, where had they run off to? It hadn't taken her that long to get home. He'd had about thirty minutes alone before Twilight arrived. But of course that was ample time for somepony to escape without being seen. Perhaps more disturbing than the idea of a stranger in Twilight's house was the fact that this was another fact Spike had potentially concealed. It seemed his supposedly newfound skill for withholding information had extended even further.

She was partially relieved when her phone rang. She'd almost started thinking about trust, that fragile concept she'd reluctantly handed out to the only fellow officer she felt deserved it. Her attention snatched by another potential distraction, she quickly answered the call.

“Hello?” she said.

She heard Fluttershy's anxious breathing before she heard the voice. Twilight's stomach clenched in fear at the sound. Had something happened? No, that was improbable, at least at this stage. She'd made sure of that. She'd checked and triple-checked her own plan before proceeding, like she'd done a million times. But then again, who was to say the masked pony hadn't also checked and triple-checked Twilight's logic? Twilight's head was a dangerous place. Anypony who willingly entered might lose themselves, but the reward would be substantial.

“A package came,” said Fluttershy.

Twilight was puzzled for a moment. Was Fluttershy reporting a crime? Had she been spooked by the deliverypony knocking on her door? Granted, it was rather early in the morning for anypony to be delivering a package, but it wasn't like the local post office was swamped. That was one of the few good things about living in this dead-end town: the efficiency of the postal service.

“Open the door and sign for it?” Twilight said.

Fluttershy's breathing was getting worse. Twilight was legitimately worried the poor mare might start hyperventilating. But despite her alarmed state, Fluttershy had still managed to make it to her phone and give Twilight a call. Admirable dedication.

“N-No, not like that,” said Fluttershy. “It was for you.”

Twilight had once seen a magician perform the classic tablecloth trick. She'd been quite young at the time, so she'd been in awe of what she mistook for advanced magic. It was only later in life that she recognized the trick for a simple sleight of hoof. But at the time she'd been captivated, drawn in by the sight of those dishes and glasses rattling but not falling as the magician snatched the tablecloth out from under them. That was how Twilight felt when Fluttershy spoke those words: as if the tablecloth had been snatched right from under her hooves.

“I'll be right over,” said Twilight.

She hung up, so frantic that she forgot all about easing Fluttershy's worries. She'd fucked up. She'd trusted blindly, throwing her faith in some random direction because it was the only way she could rationalize her next move. Why had Twilight believed she was breaking the rules? There were no rules. If there were, the masked pony saw no reason to follow them. Twilight could only hope that Fluttershy was okay.

---

Many convicts had tried—and failed—to break into Twilight's mind. This was a common tactic in interviews, a way to turn the tables and force her to explore herself for a few moments. A desperate distraction from their fate. It had likely worked on other officers, so why not Twilight? When taken into serious consideration, it was remarkably easy to refocus the conversation and tilt the scales.

But Twilight seemed immune to such complicated mind tricks. It wasn't that she couldn't be manipulated at all. In certain situations, she could be just as vulnerable as any other cop. She could fold and even bend, although never break entirely. But as soon as a part of her gave, all it took was a skilled tongue to redirect Twilight's questions and take control of the conversation. However, those who chose to go down this road were ultimately unsatisfied. They might succeed in getting into Twilight's brain, but what they found there usually rendered them speechless. Very few ponies could survive the trip deep into the unexplored caverns of Twilight's head. If the monsters didn't get them, the darkness would eat them alive.

However, the masked pony had gone in bravely and nothing they'd found had broken their resolve. Twilight was becoming increasingly afraid that the masked pony had made it to the bottom.

Fortunately, Fluttershy was alright. When Twilight arrived, Fluttershy was pacing in her living room. She was certainly shaken up, but who wouldn't be? She now had one hundred percent confirmation that the masked pony knew her address. Yet another pony pulled into the tangled web that had become Twilight's life. Even though Fluttershy had volunteered her services, she hadn't realized what she was signing up for when she accepted that non-verbal contract.

The box lay on Fluttershy's living room floor. It had been opened and tipped over, the contents spilling onto the living room floor. At first glance, there didn't seem to be anything too alarming in the box. Considering Fluttershy's reaction, Twilight had expected a severed head. Or was that too crude for the masked pony? Perhaps two eyeballs would have been more their style, a subtle but grisly message to urge Twilight's forward. Fortunately, the box seemed to contain only a bunch of photographs. No blood or gore.

Twilight returned the box to its original position and started withdrawing photos from it. She frowned as she examined each one. She'd anticipated pictures of her fellow officers, maybe her family members. It wouldn't have surprised her if the masked pony's communications had devolved into blatant threats. What else did they have at this point? But to Twilight's puzzlement, the photographs seemed to be of random ponies. They weren't citizens she recognized. In fact, most of them looked too rough or too fancy to have lived in Ponyville. Were these Canterlot citizens? Why was the masked pony sending Twilight what seemed to be candid photographs of Canterlot residents? As Twilight dug through the photos, she realized that they most certainly had been taken in Canterlot. She recognized a few boutiques and coffee places she'd often passed on her way home.

There was one photograph in the box that made Twilight pause. Unlike the other ones, this one didn't seem to be candid. In fact, this was a photo Twilight had seen more than once. She was certain this was a copy. The original was stuffed into a box somewhere.

It was a photograph of Shining Armor. He was smiling, one hoof around Cadence and the other raised in a salute. Twilight was standing at his other side, looking awkward in front of the camera as usual. Shining Armor's first day on the force. The first time he'd ever worn his uniform in public. He'd wanted to mark the occasion, to remember that moment for the rest of his life. Shining Armor's smiling face stared at Twilight, frozen in that beautiful moment of anticipation. Even through his confident grin, Twilight could see the nervousness in his eyes. He'd been so worried that day, but so determined to do a good job. He'd called Twilight that night and told her all about his rather uneventful first day. Twilight loved hearing the excitement in his voice as he described chasing a pair of vandals halfway across the city.

Twilight turned the photograph over. She told herself it was because she knew there was something written on the back, but in reality she just didn't want to look at Shining Armor's face anymore. She didn't want to think about where his optimism and determination to protect his family had gotten him.

There were two words written on the back in that familiar hoofwriting: Innocent and Guilty. Except “innocent” had been violently crossed out, while “guilty” had been circled.

Twilight stared at the photograph, not sure what she was supposed to take from it. Guilty of what? Had this case been about Shining Armor all along? Was this complicated attempt at revenge meant for him, not her? But that was ridiculous. Shining Armor was dead and buried. Twilight had been there. She'd seen his body, seen the casket, teared up as one of Shining's fellow officers gave a speech about Shining's accomplishments. The service had been lengthy and highly publicized. There was no way anypony in Equestria could believe he was alive and therefore fair game for some twisted revenge scheme.

Fluttershy had hesitantly approached Twilight, as if she was worried the photographs might bite her.

“Are you okay?” she said.

Twilight shoved the photo of Shining Armor into her saddlebag. She wasn't sure why the sight of it made her feel so uncomfortable. It was just the masked pony trying to mess with her as usual. There was probably no logic to it, no hidden meaning Twilight was supposed to decipher. It was a scare tactic, a distraction. An attempt at stealing Twilight's attention. There wasn't anything to it. There couldn't be anything to it.

“I'm alright,” said Twilight. “Worry about yourself, not me.”

Fluttershy was examining the other photos, a disturbed look on her face.

“How did that pony get so many pictures of you?” she said.

Twilight froze, her saddlebag suspended in her magic. She turned slowly to look at Fluttershy, half-believing the words had been some kind of weird joke. Ponies in this town seemed to have a strange sense of comedy that bordered on anti-humor. But she could tell by the look on Fluttershy's face that she wasn't joking.

“Pictures of...?” Twilight started.

She returned her attention to the photographs she'd merely glanced at before. She hadn't given them much thought after that initial look. Just pictures of random ponies going about their day. They weren't even very good pictures. They seemed to have been taken by somepony in a hurry, perhaps as they darted out of sight to avoid being seen. While Twilight was understandably puzzled and disturbed by this, she'd dismissed it as another cryptic message she could decode later.

But Fluttershy was right. These were photographs of Twilight. They were framed in such a way that the casual observer might have mistaken a random pony for being the focus, but another look revealed Twilight's presence in each shot. Sometimes she was standing a little bit off to the side, other times only a bit of her flank was visible. She was usually partially obscured by something or somepony in the background, but the more Twilight looked the more she recognized herself.

Twilight placed a trembling hoof on one of the photos. So somepony had been following her. Stalking her. They'd been there since Canterlot, lurking just out of sight with a camera. But why? Was this about Shining Armor or was it about her? Or was it somehow about both of them, the brother and sister who'd ended up following the same career path? The masked pony had obviously sent these to scare her, to show her that she'd never been safe. This had all started in Canterlot.

She turned each photo over. There were dates, times, and locations written on the back of each photograph. The masked pony had been tracking her for for what seemed like two months. Each date was lacking the year, but Twilight could make a rough estimate. If these were the only photographs and the time frame was accurate, this pony had been tracking her for approximately two months following her official graduation from the police academy. They'd started when Twilight was on the fast track to becoming a fully certified detective and stopped soon after she wrapped up her first case.

During that time, they seemed to have been especially interested in her going to and from work. They didn't seem to have gotten close to the station at any point. But of course the cops would have noticed a pony with a camera lurking outside of the station. But they also hadn't gotten close to Twilight's apartment. Were they afraid of being seen? Why had they even bothered taking those photographs to begin with? Were they just unusually interested in Twilight's walk from work to home and back? Had they just wanted to be one hundred percent certain of the route she took? But although Twilight did recall being stopped a few times during her walk from home to work and vice versa, none of these incidents stood out to her.

Which businesses were on Twilight's way to work? Off the top of her head, she remembered that one coffee and donut place. Her and Spike had gone there after work almost every day. She was skeptical of the place at first, but those were some fucking good donuts. The coffee was pretty good too. As an added bonus, Donut Joe was friends with Spike and therefore more inclined to grant them both a discount. But could Donut Joe be connected to this? That seemed ludicrous, but Twilight wasn't sure. Absurdity had become the new normal for her.

For the time being, she decided to put off contacting Donut Joe and hitting him with a barrage of strange questions. Maybe he was the answer, maybe he was another question. In either case, Twilight wanted to focus on something more concrete. There was another place, somewhere far more important than Donut Joe's. Now that she was one hundred percent certain that her life in Canterlot was connected to what was happening in Ponyville, Twilight realized she should have followed this line of inquiry a long time ago. Well, better late than never. There was still time to make something out of this, hopefully before this masked pony covered their tracks.

Her old apartment. If there were any clues to be found in Canterlot, that would be a good place to start.

Comments

[VampDash]

Uh oh.

[DragonPony]

This is a interesting twist for sure. What happen to Spike to shack him so much? What was with the package and what is the masked pony trying to say? There are just more questions than answers right now lol.

[Black Hoof]

I wonder, where is Cadance, and how has she been dealing with the loss of Shining?

[NexusDragon]

Unnerving stuff. Just how far back does this go and what really is this masked pony's problem? Also good work Flutters, shame your reward is now the masked pony knows you're tied into this.

[TasermonsPartner]

I'm guessing Spike has a marefriend he doesn't want Twilight to know about?
Huh, and we're going back to Canterlot? I almost thought it'd remain the background theme of this story; influencing everything and heard but never actually seen; the constant contrast to Ponyville. This twist should be interesting. And will Spike tag along, or has he lost Twilight's trust to participate in such endeavors?

[fanreader999999]

Too many red herrings.

[AlsoSprachOdin]

So far my bet is on either Cadence or Chrysalis in cooperation with or as Raven.