She didn’t know if Rainbow was asleep or awake... Her eyes were closed, yes. But at this point in life, it was sometimes easier to keep them closed than open. The doctor said she wouldn’t make it through the night. Actually, the doctor said “Anything can happen.” But she was smart enough to know what that meant.
Her friend’s eyes fluttered a little. Definitely awake.
“Scootaloo?”
“I’m right here.”
Rainbow breathed in deeply, and then exhaled.
“I’m dying”
She tried to put on a brave face about it, “No you’re not.”
“Yes...” The aging Pegasus answered. Her chest rose up high as she breathed in deeply, then sighed, “Yes, I am. It’s okay. I’m okay with that now.” She gave a small grin, looking like she was in the middle of a beautiful dream. “Not much point living anyway,”
She hated to hear her friend say that sort of thing, “Of course there is, don’t talk li-”
“No, no...” Rainbow laughed, which rapidly turned into coughing before she stopped. “Not like that. No, what I mean is...” She took a deep breath. She seemed to need a lot of those to keep talking. “What I mean is... I’ve done everything I wanted to. I’ve had a good time of it. I might as well get out of the way and let you kids get on with it.”
Kids... She wasn‘t that much younger than her former idol... Still her idol. But Rainbow insisted on calling her ‘kid‘ “You should leave.” The blue pegasus suggested. “No point hanging around here watching me slip away.”
There was another deep breath, a moment of silence. Scootaloo didn’t quite know what to say. Rainbow started talking again, “Yeah... Yeah, you should go. But before you do...” She coughed again, “Before you do, I just have some advice.”
“What’s that?”
“Never get old.” Her old mentor turned to look at her, opening her eyes one last time, “There’s no future in it.”
------------------------
Having played home to Equestria’s greatest heroes had done some good. It may have brought tourists, but tourists brought with them hotels. They tended to look out of place in the rural town, this one, the Ritz Shetland, was just across the street from the old store, still in business, that Scootaloo had bought her first scooter. It was funny, the grand facade proudly proclaiming “Ritz-Shetland” beside the little store front, with a battered grey sign that said “Speedster Sports.” The Ritz had tried to buy the property, but the family that owned the place refused to sell. Sure, with all the new methods of delivery and purchase, it had to go out of business eventually. But the owners were still hanging in there.
Scootaloo knew her friends would be at the bar soon. And they were. Applebloom arrived before Sweetie. She was short and round, looking every bit like a yellow apple. Her mane was still red, but it was streaking more and more with white. She looked like somepony’s grandmother. She WAS somepony’s grandmother. Apple Tart, named for some distant relative, was getting up towards the time to get her cutie mark. Maybe passed it... She might have it by now.
Applebloom sat next to her friend at a table. Lovely thing about hotel bars. They had tables in them... It was like a little restaurant, but far more casual.
“Tonight?”
“An hour ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault.”
“Sweetie here yet?”
“Not yet.”
“Didn’t think so.”
They didn’t say anything else. Somehow it didn’t seem appropriate to start without her there. And even though no-one had sent out a message, or called anyone up, there was no doubt Sweetie would be here, and soon. Perhaps it was intuition, perhaps magic. But they were like sisters... And sisters knew to show up when they were needed.
Sweetie came in last, fashionably late as ever. Scootaloo always laughed at the sight of her friend, even if it was a little cruel. The truth was that Sweetie Belle looked like she was more overcoat than mare... She was stick thin, but the large coat around her body wouldn’t admit it. Well, singers could afford something like that.
‘Never get old’
Odd advice to give at this point. Not like you could stop it anyway.
Sweetie removed the coat and hung it up at the coat rack before coming down to the table. She looked a bit like a stick figure now. She had clearly once been quite a sight to see. But time could turn “toned and healthy” into “old and frail” fairly well. It was just a matter of the mane and some lines on the face... It wasn’t like a white unicorn could easily lose color.
“Tonight?” She asked.
Applebloom nodded, “Just an hour ago.”
“I’m sorry,”
“It’s not your fault.” Scootaloo shrugged.
“So.” Sweetie sat back and tried to lighten the mood. She had a way of doing that. In fact, it usually worked, “I don’t know about you, but I could use a drink.”
Applebloom nodded, “A drink sounds lovely. What do you think, Scoots? Glass of cider for an old friend?”
Scootaloo nodded, and gave a weak half-smile. They could tell it hurt. They’d both lost their sisters in the last few years, and both times they’d ended up here. Now it was different, though... There was a certain finality to it.
Applebloom ordered the drinks for the three of them, as well as their dinners. She hadn’t had to ask who wanted what. At this point that would be a formality anyway, and Scootaloo appreciated having time to think. It was nice of her, really... She could tell that Scoots needed to think.
“How old was she?”
“Hush.” Applebloom quieted their friend, “Why do you ask so many questions?”
“77“ Scootaloo answered. 77... The oldest of them was 61. Not really that much younger. Most mares lived past 77, but none of the Six had managed it. There was something about the elements. They took it out of you when you used them. They took years off your life, and they’d needed more than one use over the years.
“Well, she had a good time of it.”
“Hush, Sweetie.”
“That’s what she said.” Scootaloo thought, “She’d had a good time of it.”
There was a silence. It wasn’t quite awkward. Her friends were just waiting for her to go on. When she got moody, she tended to go on... They’d both found it was best to just let her wear herself out like that. She couldn’t blame them. She turned the words over in her head... A good time of it. A good time of it... Had she had a good time of it? Would she say that when she died. “I had a good time of it?”
Well, she figured what Rainbow had meant was... She’d had all the time she wanted. She’d done what she needed to do in life. There hadn’t been anything left to do. Smart of her. She’d known that she had gotten old. That was a reasonable thing to do. Rainbow Dash had always been a smart mare.
Still, she hoped she didn’t say that. “I’ve had a good time of it.” Just so resigned... She hoped she wouldn’t be content. Sure she’d won awards... She’d led a good life so far. But that was the key, wasn’t it? So far. She wanted it to be ‘so far’. She never wanted it to be “I’ve led a good life” and leave it at that. Just “A good life.” Period. End of story.
“Excuse me,” She was startled out of her reverie to find that the food had already arrived. In fact, it seemed she had eaten some of hers. It had disappeared off the plate, anyway, unless the Ritz was in the habit of delivering half-eaten sandwiches to their guests. That was a possibility. She looked up to find who had talked to her, “Excuse me, you’re Scootaloo, yes?”
“That’s me,” She answered. It had been a red unicorn who had spoken.
“My daughter’s a fan of yours...”
“Really?” She asked. That was a bit odd, honestly... She hadn’t been in the sport in decades. She looked across the room, trying to figure out who was his daughter. She settled on a not-quite-pink unicorn. That would explain it... Her horn was broken.
“Yes, she’s very big into classic sports and stuff. I was wondering if you could sign an autograph?”
She sighed... Right, an autograph. It was nice to be asked, but... Still, she had so much on her plate today. It had been a long day... She supposed she’d have to.
Applebloom read her expression, “She’s had a tough day today... Maybe another time,” the earth pony suggested.
“Lost a friend.” Sweetie Belle added.
The unicorn nodded understandingly. “My condolences. I’ll tell her it was someone else.”
He went off.
Scootaloo went back to listening to eating her food and thinking. She listened idly to her friends. There was something comforting about the sound of their voices, and the sort of mild bickering that always happened between older mares. They felt real. Even though she only half heard them, they still sounded real. They kept her grounded.
“I wish I still got asked for autographs.” Sweetie lamented, “No-one’s interested in a teen diva forty years later.”
“Oh, cry me a river. I’m trying to keep the farm running and you’re sad you don’t sign your name enough.”
It was just like them... Between anyone else, it would sound like they hated each-other. But that was a sign of proper friendship. That you could treat each-other like dirt and get away with it. It was about respect. You didn’t need to constantly show respect or censor yourself. Not when you knew that no matter what you said, they’d still be your friend.
“You could always switch careers.”
“Right, like anyone would want a 65 year old dancer.”
Sweetie sighed, “Or a 65 year old pop star.”
“Well,” Applebloom smiled, “It can’t be helped. Too late to change course now.”
“That’s right. Besides. We’ve had a good run.”
“I guess you’re right.” Applebloom smiled, and raised her glass, “Here’s to a life well lived.”
“So far,” Scootaloo added.
“What?” They asked. They looked a little confused. She knew they probably just hadn’t heard her, but something about that bothered her. A life well lived. Not so far... Just a life well lived. She wouldn’t stand for a life well lived. Not until she didn’t have a choice in the matter.
“Nothing,” she answered, and looked back to her food. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the unicorn filly and her father leaving the room. She got up to go after them.
“Where are you going?” Applebloom asked.
She didn’t stop walking, “Out. Cover my dinner.”
They didn’t object, they just let her walk. Out of the bar/restaurant. Out of the hotel. Out into the night.
The rain was coming down heavily, pushing her mane, mostly grey now, into her eyes. She saw the unicorn filly and her father out by Speedster Sports.
She went up to the pair of them. “You want that autograph?” She asked.
The older unicorn looked surprised, but the younger one smiled, “Yes please!”
What good manners. “Got a pen?”
She asked. The unicorn nodded, “Yes, but I’m afraid I don’t have anything for you to sign.”
“I got a ribbon!” Said the filly, pulling a ribbon out of a bag by her side, “I won it ‘cause we had a race at school.”
“What’s your name?”
“Glass Slipper”
Scootaloo smiled, and took the quill, writing a little message and signing it. She gave it to the filly.
“What does it say?” She asked
“Never get old.”
“Why not?” The young filly asked.
Scootaloo smiled, and brushed the grey out of her eyes. She looked up at the store she’d bought her scooter at... The store that had refused to give up.
“Because,” She answered, a content smile on her face, “There’s no future in it.”