Spitfire sat in her office, staring out of the window towards Ponyville for the umpteenth time. By now, she was really starting to worry for one of the few times in her adult life; it was almost midnight, three hours past knocking-off time for the amber mare, but as yet, neither Rainbow Dash nor Soarin had even given her an update on what was going on.
Wearily turning away from the window, she gazed wistfully at a faded photograph that sat on the right-hand side of her desk. To the left of the picture was a spitting image of the Wonderbolt captain herself, while in the background stood her father, Tempest, and her mother, Harrier; but what really caught Spitfire's eye was the lemon-yellow mare with violet mane and tail standing to the far right of the picture. The mare was smiling with a fond, motherly pride, and in her hooves was an orange-coated three-year-old filly, giggling heartily as she was held up for the camera.
“You were such a good mother back when you were still alive, sis,” sighed Spitfire morosely. A small tear trickled out of her eye as she held the picture frame in one hoof. “If only you knew how much your daughter and I miss you.”
But her train of thought was disturbed by a knock at the door, as one of the Academy personnel entered holding an envelope in one wing. “Telegram for you, Captain,” he announced, placing it on the desk.
“Thank you, Corporal Nimrod,” replied Spitfire half-heartedly. “Dismissed.”
The corporal was rather surprised by Spitfire's lethargic demeanour, but kept his thoughts to himself as he saluted his superior and left the office. Spitfire heaved another deep sigh as she opened the envelope; she had enough on her mind with the concerns Soarin and Rainbow Dash had raised about her niece, but now she had some telegram to worry about too. When she opened it, however, she wasn't sure whether to be surprised, relieved or anxious.
“Well, that would at least explain why they haven't returned yet,” she mused as she scrutinised the telegram. “I sure hope everything's...oh my goodness!” she gasped the next minute, raising a hoof to her chest and letting the telegram fall from her other as her eyes began to brim with tears. But this time, it wasn't out of guilt, sorrow or despair – something about the final paragraph of the message had brought such untold joy and gratitude to her heart that she was hard-pressed to restrain herself from dancing around her office in her delight.
It took over a quarter of an hour for the amber Pegasus mare to pull herself together, but when at last she did, she knew exactly what she had to do. Pulling out a writing quill and a fresh sheet of parchment from her top drawer, she began writing out a reply to the telegram with an enthusiasm the likes of which she hadn't displayed since her teenage years.
The morning sun peeked over the horizon under Celestia's guidance. Rainbow Dash slowly opened her eyes, letting them adjust to the morning light that was softly beaming through the windows and onto the carpet of ponies that lay slumbering on some makeshift cots that Rarity, Sweetie-Belle and Spike had made for them.
“Uh...is it morning already?” the rainbow-maned mare thought aloud, gingerly rubbing her eyes as she fought off a yawn. Wearily, she turned to look at the nearby clock, wondering if Luna had merely decided to call an early end to the night; but sure enough, she noticed that it was just a few minutes past seven. Rainbow Dash let out a tired groan and flopped back onto her cot, annoyed at herself for having lost so much sleep.
Because of the stormy weather outside, she, Soarin and Slate Shard had been stuck at the Carousel Boutique along with Rumble and his family, and had to spend the night there until it had passed. Pipsqueak and Truffle Shuffle had chosen to brave the stormy weather themselves as they lived close by, but although the families of the remaining fillies and colts has been notified, only Lyra, Derpy and Berry Punch were able to collect theirs, leaving Apple Bloom, Lickety-Split and Tornado Bolt stranded too.
Soarin, who was in the cot immediately next to hers, gently stirred and turned to face her. “Morning, Dashie,” he murmured. “Sleep okay last night?”
“Not really, Soar,” mumbled Rainbow Dash groggily. “I couldn't stop worrying about Scoot – and I tell you what, I'm well exhausted.”
“Yeah, I think last night's fiasco's done a number on all of us,” mused Soarin. “Blue Finch and Memphis Belle were up half the night trying to calm Rumble down after all that, and I doubt Slate Shard slept that well either.” He noticed a small tear in his fiancée's eye and crawled across to her cot, gently pulling her into a reassuring hug. “Take it easy, Dash,” he added softly. “Everything's going to be okay – you take my word for it.”
“I know,” faltered Rainbow Dash, choking back a small sob. “I just hate it when Scootaloo does this to herself. It really tears my heart apart to see her endure such......such self-torture!” She wrapped her forelegs around Soarin and wept softly into his chest.
Soarin gave a weak but comforting smile as he ran a gentle hoof along his fiancée's mane. “Let it all out, honey,” he soothed calmly. “You're obviously really frightened for Scootaloo, I can see that, and you've every right to be; if we hadn't asked the Cutie Mark Crusaders for help......well, it could have been a different story. But that's nothing to be ashamed of – it just goes to show how much you care for her, and I'm really proud of you.”
Rainbow Dash pulled back slightly and gazed into Soarin's eyes. “Really?” she stammered.
“Of course, Dashie,” smiled Soarin. “It was one of the things I've always admired about you – you never give up on anypony no matter what.”
The cyan Pegasus mare smiled softly in return – but the spell was rather abruptly broken as they heard somepony knocking at the front door. Not long after, Rarity came downstairs clad in an ivory-coloured dressing gown with golden lining. “Who is it?”
“It's me; Derpy,” said a voice from the other side of the door. “Is Rainbow Dash still around?”
“Yes, she's in, why?”
“Because I have a telegram for her from the Wonderbolts.”
“Yeah, I heard you, Derpy,” called Rainbow Dash, gingerly getting to her hooves and trotting over to the door.
The wall-eyed grey Pegasus reached into her satchel, pulled out an envelope with her wing and placed it onto Rainbow Dash's hoof. The rainbow-maned mare then ripped it open and began to read the telegram it contained. The further she read, the more her expression changed until by the time she had finished, the concern that had previously been plastered onto her face had flaked off altogether and been replaced by a delighted grin.
“I knew it!” she cheered, punching the air jubilantly. “I knew Spitfire would agree to that suggestion of mine!”
“Glad to hear it, Dash,” smiled Derpy. “See you later – hope it all goes okay with Scootaloo.”
Rarity gazed at the telegram with interest as Derpy flew away back to the post office. “So what, pray tell, was your suggestion, Rainbow Dash?” she quizzed.
“You'll see,” chortled Rainbow Dash coyly, “but I'm sure Scootaloo's gonna want to see this too when she comes round!”
“Oh, she already has. Spike's just preparing a bowl of soup for her.”
“Ah, good! Then we'd better go and see her,” decided Rainbow Dash, and went over to Soarin; “Come on, sleepyhead, we've got a filly to go talk to.”
“Okay, Dashie, right with you,” answered Soarin, quickly reorienting himself and getting to his hooves.
“Slate Shard, you coming?”
But Slate Shard, who was sitting against the wall on the far side of the lobby, didn't seem to be looking forward to seeing his daughter again just now. “I dunno, Dash,” he replied uneasily. “What if she's still angry with me? What if she actually meant what she said last night?”
“Yeah – but what if she's taken all this time to think this all through, same as you have?” argued Rainbow Dash. “It's not as if she can stay mad at you forever, you know. C'mon – just give her a chance.”
Slate Shard paused – and sighed in defeat. “Alright then, Rainbow Dash, I'm coming,” he muttered, and reluctantly followed the three ponies upstairs to Rarity's bedroom.
Sweetie-Belle and Rumble sat on one side of Rarity's bed, morosely watching over a drowsy Scootaloo as she lay half-asleep, half-awake beneath the bedclothes. Both ponies had had a rough night after bringing the orange-coated Pegasus filly into the boutique, and were relieved to hear that she had finally come to after her chilling ordeal; Sweetie-Belle in particular had been so sure Rarity was still planning revenge on Scootaloo that she had been unable to sleep for worry, and in the end, Lickety-Split had to keep her company throughout the night.
Rumble's parents had done their best to comfort him, but such was his distress for the orange filly that nothing seemed to work. Despite her insistence that nopony else enter her room until she had begun to recover, Rarity had ultimately taken pity on him and allowed him to sleep with her. But even now that she was conscious again, his mind was still full of questions – some of which he had asked his fillyfriend before but never got the answer to, while others had never even occurred to him until now.
“I don't understand, Scoot,” he murmured after a long silence. “Why did you never tell me your father was so badly off, or how you came to lose your mother?”
Scootaloo avoided looking at him. “How could I, Rumble?” she mourned weakly. “Mom meant half the world to me; it always hurts so bad to talk about her. And my Dad......as if he ever cared for me in the first place! I'm nothing but a burden on his withers! Just another mouth he can't be bothered to feed! He never wanted anypony like me making things so tough for him – why do you think he just neglected me?!” She rolled over and buried her face in her forelegs, sobbing hard onto the soft pillows.
“Oh, Scootaloo.” Rumble climbed onto the bed and began rubbing her back soothingly. He hated seeing the orange-coated filly so hurt and upset, but he also knew that none of what she had said about her father was true. It was high time, he told himself resolutely, to try and clear it up once and for all. “Your Dad doesn't think of you as a burden. I actually got to talk to him last night, and he turned out to be a really caring guy.”
“Yeah right!” sobbed Scootaloo, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
“No, seriously,” insisted Rumble, “he was really fearful for you when he arrived here, and when we told him you were ill...he......well, he cried.”
That threw Scootaloo for a loop. She slowly lifted her head from her forelegs and gazed in wonderment at her coltfriend, wondering if she had heard him right.
“He feels really guilty for everything that's gone wrong with your life since your Mom died,” Rumble continued, “and he kept blaming himself for what you did to yourself – not you, and certainly nopony else – just himself. He even said he deserved to go to prison for what he's done to you. I know I'm no expert on 'bad parents', but does that actually sound like an uncaring father?”
Scootaloo blinked in disbelief. Surely she must have misheard what her coltfriend had said. “Are you...absolutely certain about this, Rumble?”
“Of course I am, Scoot,” replied the grey Pegasus. “He wasn't just...” but he was suddenly cut off by a loud sneeze from Scootaloo, which caused him to flinch slightly.
As if on cue, Sweetie-Belle reached for the box of paper tissues on the bedside table and passed one over to Rumble, who wiped Scootaloo's nose clean before holding it just in front. The orange-coated filly then blew hard into it until her nose was as clear as she could get it. “Thanks, guys,” she said weakly.
“That's okay, Scootaloo,” smiled Rumble, throwing the soiled tissue into the nearby bin. “But yeah, your Dad wasn't just throwing a fit because he thought you were being ungrateful, and neither was it all to do with the loss of your Mom – he was crying for you; for every second of sufferance you had to endure that he could have made easier for you. And I know how that feels,” he added knowingly, “because you know what I said about how distressed I feel for my cousin when we first met?”
Scootaloo nodded solemnly in reply. She could well remember how challenging it had been for Rumble to talk about his disabled Trottingham cousin that day, and it still broke her heart just thinking about it.
“Well, that's exactly what your Dad's going through at the moment,” finished Rumble gravely. “He never meant to do any of this to you, and neither did he realise he was actually doing it. He loves you, Scootaloo; you're absolutely everything to him, and anything he can do to make up for how much he's neglected you over the years, he's more than willing to do.”
By now, Scootaloo was lost in her own emotions. Ever since her mother had died, Slate Shard had seemed like nothing more than an emotionless automaton, carrying out the same routine day after day and never stopping to think about the one he should have been programmed to look after. But now Rumble was providing her with a completely new perspective – rather than the robot she had always seen in her father, the picture that had been painted by her coltfriend was one of a distraught, weary stallion whose thoughts centred solely on the daughter he had mistreated, and how insensitive he had been as to leave her to suffer alone while he slaved away at a slate quarry all day. She opened her mouth to try and question Rumble further, but such was her confusion that nothing came out – certainly not before the bedroom door opened and Rarity came into the room, levitating a tray just in front of her.
“How's the patient, Sweetie-Belle?”
“She's okay, Rarity,” answered Sweetie-Belle, still a little uneasy. “We'd just been talking about her Dad with her, and how upset he had been last night.”
“Yes, I can imagine he'd feel that way after what happened to the poor dear yesterday,” mused Rarity solemnly. “I know he would have had to find out sooner or later, but not like this. Anyway,” she added, “I've brought some carrot and lemon-grass soup for you, Scootaloo.”
The orange filly looked rather confused as she shifted herself round onto her haunches, so as to allow Rarity to rest the tray on her lap. “I don't get it, Rarity. Why are you doing this for me?”
“Because you're ill, Scootaloo,” explained Rarity, equally confused and a little hurt. “I thought a good bowl of soup would...”
“No, Rarity, that's not what I'm talking about,” interrupted Scootaloo. “I thought you were still mad at me for what I said to Spike. You could have just ignored Sweetie-Belle's plight and left me to die out there – but instead you let her bring me into the boutique and start nursing me as if I'd never done anything wrong.”
Rarity heaved a deep sigh, hanging her head slightly. “You're quite right, Scootaloo – I could easily have abandoned you to your fate,” she agreed ruefully, “but if I had, I would have lost the life of a friend, a lover and a daughter. Rumble, Sweetie-Belle and Apple Bloom would never have forgiven me as I should have done to you a year ago, and neither would your father; my whole career would be ruined, and more importantly, I would have been burdened with the guilt for the rest of my life.”
“Then why didn't you forgive me immediately after I apologised?”
“Because my fears for Spike had just...well, blinded me. Ever since that day, all I could see in you was a heartless bully when in fact what I should have seen was an empty young filly with no mother and a father with such a difficult job that he never even had the strength to look after her properly. It was extremely insensitive of me not to realise that, and I'm truly, truly sorry.”
“Same goes for me, Scootaloo.” While Rarity had been talking, Spike had overheard the conversation, and decided that it was only fair that he too came in to reconcile with the orange Pegasus filly. “I know that slap you gave me round the face kinda drove me over the edge, in a manner of speaking, but looking back over yesterday, maybe it was a bit harsh of me to act so coldly towards you for it.”
“No, Spike, I was the insensitive one,” insisted Scootaloo, tearing up slightly. “If I had only known what you and Rarity were going through, I wouldn't have snapped at you like that. I deserved to suffer...”
“No, dear, you didn't,” stated Rarity gently. “Nopony deserves to be deprived of their own family, and neither do you. Now what say we just forget the whole thing?”