//------------------------------// // Reunion // Story: Lonely Mountains // by TadStone //------------------------------// Reunion “So, how are you feeling today?” A smile on his lips and a plate filled with different variations of hazelnut and oat cookies balanced on his hoof, Dr Staple leaned forward to the orange filly sitting in one of his comfortable red armchairs, offering one of the treats to his patient as he always did at the beginning of a new session. “Okay I guess,” Scootaloo responded weakly, taking one of the cookies and shoving it into her mouth before she continued to speak, little crumbs from her snack flying through the air. “I still feel pretty bad at times, but it’s not supposed to feel good anyway.” “No, sadly it isn’t,” the brown earth pony answered after taking down a few notes on his notepad. “Are your nightmares getting better?” “The sleeping potions Twilight got me are working great. Just ask Twi what happened the night I tried not to use them. I don’t really wanna talk about it.” The stallion raised an eyebrow, thinking about how to respond to the filly who was just now forcefully avoiding his gaze, small orange hooves stroking unruly violet hair. Whatever had happened, it hadn’t been good for the already small and beaten ego of the little pegasus. Another obstacle he had to work around, as if there weren’t already enough of them; Abuse, death, and the constant fear of rejection were ingrained in her brain by past experiences. Suppressing the sigh on his lips, he heaved himself out of his armchair, making his way over to the filly, knowing somewhere deep down that not only verbal consolation was needed, but also a little more intimate solace. “I’m sure Twilight didn’t mind and will tell nopony.” Having crossed the small distance while speaking, he placed himself on the armrest of Scootaloo’s seating accommodation, drawing the filly towards his side with his now free hooves. “You’re not weak, Scootaloo. Accidents happen. You’re holding up better than I would expect of any filly.” Letting go of the foal for a few seconds, he reached for the cookies again, taking one for himself and firmly placing another one into the hooves of his small patient. “I know you feel embarrassed, but I swear to you, nopony will ever speak of it again if you don’t. So just forget about it. Okay?” A nod was as much an answer as he would get, but it was good enough considering the situation. He could as well press on in the vain hope of finding a more happy subject. One that wouldn’t drag him down as much and make Scootaloo happy... “Is there anything particular you want to talk about today?” he asked, daring once again a closer look at the filly. There was something about her that made her hard to withstand, and it wasn’t just the visual cuteness she would never admit she possessed. Maybe it was because he felt the need to make up the bad foalhood she had. Maybe it was because he didn’t have foals himself and no other patients her age. He wasn’t sure, but it didn’t matter anyway. He felt close to her. That was all that counted. He had broken the rules so many of his colleagues held dear. He had become close to his patients, Rainbow and Scootaloo. The past few weeks hadn’t been easy on him, countless nights were spent crying and more than a few days had him wonder if he was still up to the task. Scootaloo, as precious as she was to him, drained his strength with her proximity, leaving him weak and vulnerable during each of their sessions. Yet he could never skip them. They were too important… for both of them. For a moment, he just looked at the still uneaten cookie in his hoof, sighing heavily before biting into the crisp surface that broke away with a loud crunch. Oat, his favourite. He knew they were great. He had eaten them countless times before, even baking them himself with a recipe from his mother. Yet today, right at this moment, the flavour never registered on his tongue, his other senses overriding the normally welcome sensation. Scootaloo’s expression had changed in a most uncommon pattern, her eyes suddenly shooting wide open and her stance shifting upright in contrast to her normal slouching posture. But that wasn’t what nearly literally threw him off the armrest he was still sitting on. It was the word Scootaloo had uttered that accompanied this unusual shift in behaviour. “Rainbow.” If anything, Dr Staple was a professional of his trade. Still, he only barely managed to remain calm on the outside, his mind racing but finding no logical explanation. “What exactly do you want to talk about her?” His hoof closed around the half eaten cookie, pieces of oat silently raining to the ground in his tight grip. “Nonononono... Rainbow’s here. Mom’s coming.” Scootaloo had jumped off her seat as she spoke, or rather squealed, turning her back on the doctor in favour of staring at the window, her buzzing wings creating an uplift now that they were boosted by her magical necklace. The doctor was at a loss of words. In the twenty years of his career, he had witnessed a lot of different ponies and their varying outbreaks. But this... This came out of nowhere. He had truly believed that Scootaloo was getting better, and, even during her worst times, he would have never expected such a random outbreak. Whatever had triggered this, he needed to bring her back to reality as carefully and gently as possible, and afterwards, maybe have a long talk with Twilight over some calming tea about what exactly had happened during the last week. Wasting no more time than he already had spent thinking, he sat up and moved over to the filly, carefully placing a hoof on her back. “I know you wish for this. As do I... But both you and I know the truth. You know this is not true. I am sorry.” And then... It happened. The world proved him wrong as rainbow coloured spectra flooded across the window. Normally, he hated being wrong, as his job demanded nothing less than constant correct conclusions and actions to help his patients. At the same time, many nights in his career had been spent sleepless and shuffling in his bed, his mind awake while his body was exhausted. A part of him was always hoping that things would turn out better for his patients. If anything, he had one wish that was stronger than all the other ones in his life. He hoped that Rainbow could come back. It seemed like the most improbable event of all, the most foolish thing to plead for, but there it was. Right before his eyes were the vibrant colours of a Sonic Rainboom, a phenomenon of true beauty created by the mare so many ponies had thought lost forever and mourned next to the monument of her grave in remembrance of her deeds. Could it really be? His life shifted into slow motion as a black pegasus broke through his window, instantly ending all clear-cut thoughts. Thundering sound waves that had probably shattered more than a few additional panes of glass followed her wake, hurting his eardrums. His office wasn’t small nor was it filled up with too much furniture, but it had never been designed to fly in. An armchair was knocked aside with great force, crashing against the wall where it left a hole in the thin layer of the no longer wallpapered wood before dropping to the ground again. His ceiling didn’t fare much better, assaulted by a metal tray that only seconds ago had hosted several bottles of various drinks. The fluids soaked into his expensive carpet, while the metal disk dug into the structure. None of this mattered, only the filly under his care did. The one that was only milliseconds away from impacting with the intruder as he could see out of the corner of his eye from his hiding position low on the floor. Strangely calm in his thoughts and automated in his movements, he spun around, his basic instincts assessing the situation far more effectively than conscious thoughts ever could. Strong black hooves snatched the filly from the ground, drawing her into an instant tight embrace. No longer propelled by any of the participants, the newly-formed pegasus ball crashed onto the ground, the black mare cushioning the fall for her smaller counterpart. A crimson streak appeared on the floor, tracing the movement caused by leftover momentum that sent them slithering to the nearest wall. He would never forget the scene that now unfolded right before his eyes. Not in a year. Not in a hundred years. Scootaloo had crawled up into the black mare’s embrace, pressing her muzzle against the other pegasus’s cheek, all the while pleading to the mare to never leave her again. Little droplets of tears emerged freely from their eyes, intermixing with each other, gathering black dye or mixing with red blood on their path to the ground. Exceptional as the situation already was, that wasn’t what made it so special. He knew those facial features. He had believed to never see them again as had the filly who had recognized them before him. Rainbow looked a lot older now. Her features were weathered by the events of the past weeks, fading dye and the uneven stitching of the newly opened wound on her cheek doing their best to disguise the mare she was. However, no amount of damage to her once perfect style could mask her emotions. He couldn’t remember if he had ever seen Rainbow this happy. Her expression was one of pure content, one of a baby feeding off a mother’s breast. Scootaloo was just the same, all of life’s wishes fulfilled in a single moment. She had her mother back. She had learned to fly. And, unbeknownst to her, where only moments ago had been bare orange fur, was now a colourful mark. It was just too perfect to believe. Unsure of what to do, he inched closer to the pair, one step at a time, carefully phrasing his next sentence in his mind before speaking out loud. “Thank you for coming back, Rainbow.” A tear of joy was running down his cheek as well now. “Name what I can do for you, and it shall be done.” Rainbow didn’t let go of Scootaloo or even look at him, instead intensifying the already crushing hug before responding. “I’ve got my daughter. What else could I need?” As gentle as only a parent can, she nuzzled her very own filly. “I'll never leave you again. I promise, Squirt, I promise. I never wanted to hurt you. Every day I thought of you. Just wanted to hold you in my hooves. Feel your warmth against me...” Rainbow had closed her eyes, seemingly relishing the feeling she had just described. “Even the princesses can’t make me go again. I hope you can forgive me.” There was no need to answer this question. The way she clung to her mother, the way she returned every small affectionate gesture with another one, was already enough to tell that there was nothing to forgive, as though nothing wrong had been done in the filly’s mind. It was the most wonderful thing he had ever seen in his life. He had long thought these two were made for each other, some strange bond connecting them even before they knew each other. Now he had the proof right before his eyes. The way they acted together already gave that away, but they had behaved like that for as long as he knew them. It was the imagery on their flanks that validated it for good, the unsuspecting pair still oblivious to the recent development. He was going to change that, and he was proud he could, although it should not be by his doing that the filly would notice, and there was one point he had to make sure beforehand. With deliberately slow steps and a content smile etched in his face, he inched further forward to Rainbow, taking his time to scan every aspect of her body: Her feathers were ruffled. Her once glorious mane was dull and ragged, cut short with blunt tools and worn out by the alkaline dye. Her tail had suffered the same fate, but as bad as this might have looked, it was just hair, it would regrow. The same thing could not be said about the large cut on her side, now oozing blood out of the parts where the crude metal staples had teared up the skin again as a result of the impact. Only by chance, he guessed, the long row of them lining up Rainbow’s hind leg had served their purpose of keeping the sides of the long cut connected. Dropping himself to the floor, the doctor brought his muzzle next to Rainbow’s ears, whispering in the mare’s ear to avoid unsettling the filly on top of her. “You look badly hurt. I will get a doctor for you while you enjoy your daughter. You should have a look at her flank while I am gone.” Having made his point, he retracted his head, righting himself up again to his hooves in a swift, well-trained motion, not wanting to disturb the pair any longer than absolutely necessary. However, he couldn’t even finish his first step on his way out of the demolished room. A patched black and cyan hoof was tugging on his tail, hindering him in his movement. “I had to ask Twi where Scootaloo is. You know the egghead. Give her two more minutes, and I bet not only a doctor but also a constructive worker will be here. Thanks for everything.” With obvious strain in her features, and a suppressed scream pressed through her teeth, Rainbow righted herself up to lean against the wall behind her, not even once separating herself from her foal in the process. If asked a moment ago, Dr Staple would have sworn that it was physically impossible to smile even brighter than Rainbow had in this moment. Now he knew he would have been wrong in this statement, as an expression of pure pride crept over the mare’s face upon sight of the brand new cutie mark: a white cloud emitting a tricolour lightning bolt, an exact copy of her own cutie mark, except the red, yellow, and blue had been replaced by different shades of purple. “You really are my daughter, aren’t you?” She placed a light kiss on the filly’s forehead before gently nudging the foal to look at her own backside. “It’s nearly as cool as mine, isn’t it?” Cutie Mark Crusader meetings were always loud, painful to the ears for all but the participating fillies themselves. Shouting was part of their routine, from start to end, not forgetting the frustrated outcries when realisation hit them that once more there were no new colours on their flanks. Now that the moment was finally there for one of them, not a single sound escaped Scootaloo, her head alternating back and forth between her flank and Rainbow’s proud gaze in a rapid pattern, right until she let out an exhausted sigh and dropped snoring on her mother’s chest. “Isn’t she the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen?” Rainbow asked for the first time truly taking her eyes off the foal to face the doctor. “Her friends are giving her good competition, but yes.” He allowed himself a low laugh before continuing. “But what does it mean?” “Those who are born to loyalty are marked with the symbol of the bolt, a trait often combined with athletic speed and military leadership.” Averting her eyes again from the stallion, Rainbow reclined her head against the wall to a more comfortable position than before, speaking more to the ceiling than to anypony specific. “Twi’s rubbing off on me. Now I am citing old books I couldn’t even read without her help.” Both of them kept silent after that. Rainbow had closed her eyes, the filly on her chest moving up and down with every intake of air, but Rainbow wasn’t sleeping. Reliving an unpleasant memory, her facial muscles twitched, and a new stream of hot tears emerged through closed eyes. “Tell me what is happening in your thoughts.” Dr Staple had sat down next to Rainbow again, one hoof carefully stroking Rainbow’s shoulder, drawing the mare out of her bad thoughts. Bloodshot eyes met his gaze, the mare they belonged to speaking slowly and shaken. “Scootaloo is an Element of Harmony like myself. I’ve felt her twice. She was calling out for me all this time. But I couldn’t answer. We were too far apart, and I was bed-stricken. Just before I broke through the window, I could feel her again. And she felt me… That’s what it means. She’s an Elem—” Before Rainbow could finish the last words, the door burst open more violently than necessary, destroying the hinges and the wall behind it. A sweating and panting Twilight entered, two medical ponies trailing behind and heading directly to Rainbow, two heavy sets of medical equipment floating next to them in Twilight’s purple aura. “Here comes my mare in shining armour,” Rainbow Dash smiled at Twilight. “You forgot the construction worker, but I am going to let this slip for now.”