"The fire started here," Phillip said, tracing the path of the flames along the wall, which was marked by a pattern of cracks along the wooden walls that looked like alligator scales. The scales got smaller and smaller as they neared the point of origin: some drapes on the kitchen window. Phillip cut off a piece of the drapes for examination and sniffed it carefully. "I don't smell accelerants."

Flash was trying to focus, but it was kind of hard to concentrate when the smell of burnt wood continually invaded his nostrils. It triggered fresh memories that flashed through his mind like a kaleidoscope of horror; every time he turned, he half-expected to see black tentacles reaching out for him through columns of smoke and a blank white face illuminated by flames.

"Flash?" he realized Phillip was saying. He forced himself to pay attention. "I was saying, do you notice these scratches on the door here?"

Flash peered at the burnt door. It took him a few moments to find the scratches on the door, right next to the latched deadbolt. There were two sets, each made of three scratches close together.

"Both of the doors and all of the windows were closed and locked from the inside. What do those make you think of?" Phillip said.

Flash stared at the scratches for several seconds, but nothing came to his cluttered mind. He shook his head. Phillip looked back at him, face expressionless, before turning and heading up the stairs, pushing his way past the debris on the landing into the hallway. Flash followed him.

"And the chair was blocking the door?" Phillip asked, examining the shattered window in Berry Pinch's room.

"Yeah," Flash said, trying and failing to hide the fact that his tail was shivering. "I moved it aside and got into the room. And when I turned around..." He swallowed, his tail beginning to tremble harder. "He was standing in the doorway." He took a slow, shaky breath, trying to still himself. "I...saw him. He was real."

Phillip did not reply, instead choosing to examine the symbol carved into the door for several seconds before moving past him down the stairs, which creaked dangerously under his weight. Flash stared after him. "You don't believe me?" he asked, floating down after him.

Phillip continued out the house and out into the street, silently considering his next words. Night was starting to fall over Ponyville, darkness creeping across the snow and over the houses that the other citizens were currently hiding in, seeking out the safety of light and warmth.

"Flash, you were in a frightening situation," he said finally, heading down the street. "You were scared and under stress and—"

"That's just a fancy way of saying you don't believe me," Flash interrupted bitterly.

"No—"

"So I'm still the BNP, am I?" Flash snapped, a harsh edge in his voice that bit like the cold wind. "Just an extra set of hooves and somepony to brag to, is that it?" He knew he shouldn't be speaking like this; he wouldn't, normally. But this was not a normal situation: he was scared, he was confused, he was stressed, and all that mixed together into frustration and anger, boiling over like water on a hot stove to override his reason and restraint.

"No, Flash, I—" Phillip started to say, trying to calm him down.

"I don't wear this armor to keep warm, you know!" Flash snapped back. "And see this?" He gestured to the corporal pin on his collar. "That's not decoration! I earned this!"

"I know that, but—"

"No. No buts, Phil. You owe me that!"

"You were hallucinating!" Phillip shouted, stopping and whirling to face him. Flash was momentarily stunned by the statement, but his anger quickly cut through his confusion, telling him that Phillip was not taking him seriously.

"I was seeing things? I'm going nuts? That's your explanation?!" Flash shouted back, stepping closer and getting into his face. "I'm not crazy, damn it! I know what I saw!" Of course he did, he told himself. How could Phillip tell him what he saw and what he didn't see? He wasn't there! He wasn't the one who had been backed against the wall with that thing towering over him!

"Flash, please listen—" Phillip said, starting forward and raising a hoof as if to place it on Flash's shoulder.

Flash swatted the hoof aside and stepped back. "I thought you trusted me," he said coldly. "But if you're not willing to listen to me, then I might as well be useful somewhere else." And with that, he turned and flew away, heading for the Rainbow Castle. He heard Phillip call his name after him, but did not turn around.

Even if he did, he was already too far away to see the pained, confused expression on Phillip's face as he watched the younger stallion fly away.

"Do you have any idea what might have happened?"

"I was doing my job!"

"You could have died!"

"And so could have that girl! I had to help!"

Rain Breeze glared at her husband, tears running down her face, her sunshine yellow eyes burning with emotion. "And what about Scootaloo? What would happen to her if you died in there? What would happen to me?"

"You think I don't care?!" Zipline all but shouted at her, glaring down at her, wings flared in a display of emotion. "You think I don't care about that?! Because I do! I love you, and I love Scootaloo!"

"Then think about us once in a while!" Rain Breeze shouted back. "And that includes not jumping into burning buildings!"

The two continued to argue, the tension that had been building up over the past few days like water against a dam finally breaking out in a drawn-out explosion of words. Their harsh words, spoken in tones that were rarely heard in this house, traveled up the stairs to the landing, and into the ears of Scootaloo. It felt like the words cut into her skin, causing physical pain. Tears pricked at her eyes. She wanted to go down there and tell them to stop, but couldn't bring herself to, afraid of getting caught in the crossfire.

She was proud of her father, as proud as she'd always been of him, and she knew that her mother should have been proud, too. But their fear was tearing them apart, the rip made of angry words that she knew that neither of them meant.

Like a disease, the anger infected her, feeding off her pain. Why did this happen? Why, why, why did that monster have to choose her?!

"—I don't want to hear about a Slenderpony ever again!" Rain Breeze shouted, storming towards the stairs. She stomped up to her room, barely acknowledging Scootaloo; perhaps she simply did not see her through her tears. Scootaloo heard a door slam, followed by muffled sobs from upstairs; the only sound in the house. Scootaloo fought her own tears as her heart broke for her family. Heading downstairs, she saw her father sitting at the dining room table, head in his hooves, breathing heavily.

"Dad?" she whispered, climbing up on the chair beside him. "Dad, are you okay?"

Zipline put a wing around her and hugged her to him. "I love you so much, Scootaloo," he said softly, stroking her little wings with a hoof. "You know that, right?"

"I know, dad," she said, burying her face into his chest, as if in hopes that he might somehow shield her. He kissed the top of her head.

"You need to go to bed, kiddo," Zipline said, standing and carrying her upstairs. In another time, on another day, Scootaloo would have protested that she wasn't tired (possibly through a yawn), insisted that she stay up and play with him for a while longer. But the truth was, she was tired, the emotional strain having exhausted her. And she knew that her father wanted her safe, wanted to be assured that she was in a safe place. So she allowed herself to be placed down on the mattress and tucked into bed.

"Dad?" she whispered, already finding it hard to keep her eyes open. "Please don't be mad at mom."

"I'm not, sweetie," Zipline said. "It's all going to be okay, all right?"

A yawn stole Scootaloo's answer. The last thing before sleep claimed in her entirely was her father's face smiling down at her reassuringly.

As soon as his daughter was asleep, Zipline exited the room, closing the door behind him. He stepped out into the hallway and stared at the door to his bedroom. He knew that he should go in, confront his wife, admit to his mistakes, try to soothe her fears. But, as much as he hated to admit it, he was still angry.

No, he wasn't angry. He was scared. He couldn't bear the thought of losing his daughter, or his wife, especially to something that he couldn't fight. And there was nothing he could do against a faceless...ghost or whatever the buck that thing was.

He slowly treaded downstairs, thinking perhaps that he might raid the cider cabinet for a drink while he mulled things over.

Wait a minute. He had a wife and a daughter that were in danger, and he was thinking about getting a drink? Not acceptable, he told himself. He needed to find a way to fight back, which means that he needed information.

And the best place to get information was...

He moved with determination out the front door into the darkened, snowy streets and took flight, headed for B Boulevard.

Normally, the gentle chimes of the piano would soothe him, help to dissipate his emotions and allow him to think clearly. But even Peace Piece couldn't silence the whispers in his brain.

You shouldn't have treated Flash like that, the annoying little voice in the back of his head said.

Shut it, he replied, not missing a single note as he continued to debate with himself. We are not having this discussion now. I'm trying to think.

You should be thinking, the voice said. About him, and about all your other friends. Ignoring the problem isn't going to make it go away.

He paused for a moment to gather his thoughts before continuing, perhaps hoping that the song could help drown out the other voice. I am trying to solve this problem, by working on solving this case.

But you can do more than that. You could have done more to calm Flash down instead of snapping at him. You could have just told him the truth.

I tried to. He needs to learn to control his emotions, he replied a bit more defensively than he would have liked.

He was scared! He was scared and confused and you pushed him aside like he was nothing!

His hooves crashed down onto the ivory, bringing the music to a sudden halt with a blaring of false notes; the musical equivalent of a train crash. What was I supposed to tell him? That I think he and everypony in this town has been poisoned? That I was too weak to follow him in there? That I was afraid that he was going to die and I couldn't save him? That I care about him and the others more than anything else, and I'm scared of losing them, but I'm too much of a coward to just say it?

You could have told him something, anything! Instead you completely disregarded him, treated him like dirt! He's not a machine, Phil! He's not like you!

Enough! I need to think!

Breathing heavily, Phillip brought his head down onto his forelegs. He remained there for several seconds, his confused emotions echoing inside his mind. Slowly, they quieted as he calmed himself down, allowing his rational mind to take over, analyze the problem, and decide the best thing to do would be to table the issue for tonight and allow a night's sleep to clear everypony's head; tomorrow, when he went to Twilight to see what she had come up with, he would apologize to Flash and explain everything. Sighing, he got up, shrugging his shoulders and unzipping his vest.

But his plans were interrupted by a knocking at his door. He took a breath to center himself before calling out, "Enter!" He heard the hoofsteps coming down the hallway and looked up to see Zipline entering. He was straight-backed and stepped with purpose, making direct eye contact with the neutral expression of a professional guard, but couldn't conceal the fluttering of his wings.

"May I speak to you, sir?" he asked.

"What do you need?" Phillip replied, gesturing to one of the chairs in the living room, which Zipline seated himself upon.

"I need to know where we're at," Zipline stated.

Phillip frowned in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Zipline maintained his blank expression, but it was suddenly dawning on him that he hadn't fully thought this out. "I came to see...if there was anything I could do," he stammered out.

Phillip considered him for a few moments. "Zipline, I know you're worried about your family," he said. "But you don't need to. It's going to be all right."

Zipline stared back at him, his wingtips twitching again. "That's what I told my daughter earlier," he said evenly. "And I know that's just something grown-ups tell kids to reassure them."

"Right," Phillip said. Time to be completely honest, he told himself. He took a breath and continued. "There is no Slenderpony. But I think I know who's doing this. I have a lead, and tomorrow I'm going to—"

Suddenly, there was a whoosh of feathers, followed by a screeching caw. Both stallions whirled to see a raven flying towards them. Phillip had just enough time to wonder how the bird had gotten in the house before it swooped down and scratched him across the face. Before he could cry out in surprise and pain and bring a hoof up to the wound, the bird swung around and scratched Zipline across the face.

"Ow! What the bu—" Zipline started to say when the room suddenly spun like a carnival ride, tilting beneath him. His vision blurred and he felt himself falling out of the chair and onto the floor, as if in slow motion. He tried to get up, but his limbs felt heavy, like they were encased in metal. He saw a blurry brown shape next to him and realized that Phillip had been overcome as well.

Then he heard it: a familiar, strange hissing noise that grew to a whining in his ears. Forcing his head up, he saw the Slenderpony standing over him, tentacles sprouting from his back. The raven was sitting on his back, staring down at him with eyes that glowed red.

"No!" he cried, his own words like molasses in his ears, trying to get up. But black tentacles pushed him back down, ensnaring his limbs. The whining grew louder and louder and darkness fell across his vision like a curtain.

Zipline's last thought before he blacked out was that Scootaloo would never know what happened to him.

Author's Notes:

At last, I finish this chapter! I apologize for the delay: I was busy with other work.

One of my goals in this chapter was to showcase some of Phillip's insecurities and one of Flash's major weaknesses: he has trouble controlling his emotions at times.

Hope you're all looking forward to more!