The Alleys of Ponyville: Short Stories from the Noireverse

by PonyJosiah13

Cold and the Coin

Cold Case stared at the doorway with the blue and yellow lanterns set beside it and thoughtfully blew a cloud of smoke from the pipe clenched in her teeth, standing in the snow growing around her hooves. The Apple Pie in Your Eye was public, bright, and vibrant, full of ponies. It was one of the last places on Earth that she wanted to be.

She looked up at the hanging sign of the three ponies around a table, slowly swinging in the snowy breeze with a faint squeaking of hinges. She could hear music from inside, the conversation and laughter of ponies. The sound was so...unfamiliar to her, it might as well have been an alien language.

To step inside that tavern, she felt, would be like entering the Everfree Forest: dark, unmapped, and full of strange creatures.

Maybe she should just go home. Go home and be alone. Alone was familiar. Alone was safe. Alone was…

Alone meant the red poppydust. Alone meant another hit. Alone meant floating through a high before drifting off to sleep, then waking up with itchy eyes, a burning nose, and a spinning head and stomach. Alone meant alone with the monster.

She reached into her trenchcoat and pulled the gift out of her pocket with her magic. A small purple coin embossed with a ten floated in front of her gaze. Phillip had given her that, his own coin. Because he believed in her.

She looked up at the door, then took in a deep breath of cherry and pine tobacco and replaced the coin in her pocket. Dousing the pipe with her magic, she tapped the ashes out onto the ground, then strode forward and opened the door.

The warmth, the noise, the smells, they hit Cold Case like a wall and nearly knocked her off balance. Shaking her head, she put on her mask of ice and walked forward through the tables, observing the faces around her (smiling, relaxed, no sign of any hostility), taking note of the exits (door behind her, emergency door behind the bar, windows, stairs to second floor), and mentally ensuring that the pistol in her shoulder holster was still snug to her side.

She reached the bar and found an empty stool to sit upon. While she waited for the bartender to notice her, she listened to the ivory mare up on stage, playing piano and singing a love song. Coloratura, Cold Case recalled: she was one of the mares that Phillip had told her to look up.

The blonde bartender walked up to her. “How can I help you?” she asked with a smile.

“I’m looking for Applejack,” Cold Case said.

“You found her,” Applejack nodded, tipping her hat. “You’re the new police chief, ain’t you?”

Cold Case nodded. “Phillip sent me here. He said you and Coloratura could…” She hesitated, the doors to her trust remaining shut for a moment, then she sighed. She pulled the coin out of her pocket and slapped it on the table.

Applejack studied the coin for a moment, frowning, then looked up at Cold Case. Cold stared back at her, the icy mask firmly in place.

“You ain’t gotta try to hide behind yourself here,” Applejack said gently, placing a hoof on Cold’s shoulder. Cold regarded her hoof in silence, confusion and flickers of sadness showing behind the cracks that were spreading across her mask. “Rara over there, it ain’t no secret that she used poppydust, and was a pretty heavy drinker. But I helped her through it. And we’ve helped other ponies kick the habit...even Phil.”

Cold Case looked up, allowing the mask to melt away, letting the exhaustion and doubt and fear bubble up to the surface of her face. “And you are sure you can help me?” she asked.

Applejack patted her on the shoulder with a comforting smile, then handed her the coin back. “You’d best hang onto this for now,” she said. “It’ll give you something to work towards.”

Cold looked at the coin. The embossed ten stared back at her, taunting her.

“Don’t think of the ten,” Applejack advised her. “Think of just one at a time. One month at a time. One day at a time. That’s how you build yourself up.” She looked up at the stage. “Rara’s almost finished her set. Just stick around, and the two of us can get you set up. Meantime, how about something to warm the blood?”

Cold Case smiled at last and pocketed the coin. “As long as that something is drizzled in maple syrup.”

Author's Note:

After the revelation of Cold's vice in Case Six, I wanted to give her this story to show her start on the path of quitting. Also, giving AJ a bit more time is always a pleasure.

Comments

[The Bricklayer]

Oh, Cold...

Also, AJ is best mother hen.