//------------------------------// // What's Your Interest in Her? // Story: Three Gems and a Scooter // by RaylanKrios //------------------------------// Rarity’s first thought when she woke up in the morning was about the dresses from yesterday she had yet to finish.  Her next was that Scootaloo was sleeping in the room across the hall. Both would be things that she would have to deal with today. Scootaloo woke up to the sounds of Rarity puttering about in the kitchen. One thing about moving around a lot was that it made you a light sleeper. After a moment to orient herself as to where she was and why she was here, she headed downstairs.  As Scootaloo crept down the stairs she couldn’t help but feel uneasy, she had eaten breakfast at the boutique many times, but always with Sweetie Belle there to serve as a buffer. Rarity busied herself making breakfast and packing a lunch for Scootaloo. She was somewhat surprised to find that it felt remarkably similar to all the times she had cared for Sweetie Belle.  Scootaloo rounded the corner and poked her head into the kitchen. If Rarity shared Scootaloo’s feelings about it being awkward to share breakfast without Sweetie Belle present, she certainly didn’t show it.  “Good morning, Scootaloo. Did you sleep well?” she asked brightly as soon as the orange filly came into view. Scootaloo nodded. It appeared that talking still wasn’t very high on her list of priorities, but at least the response seemed honest. “I packed you a lunch, daisy sandwich with carrot chips and an apple, but if you’d prefer, I can give you a few bits to purchase a lunch at school.” Before Scootaloo could respond, their conversation was interrupted by a familiar voice. “Scoots!” Sweetie Belle exclaimed, bounding across the boutique so that she could wrap her friend in a bone-crushing hug. Rarity couldn’t help but smile as she watched the scene unfold. Despite the emotional walls that Scootaloo had built up, it appeared that Sweetie Belle was allowed past them. As Scootaloo returned the hug with equal enthusiasm, Rarity noticed the expression on Scootaloo’s face shift from her usual guarded malaise to one of relief. A smile crept across the orange filly’s face and for a moment Rarity didn’t have to worry about her mood. “This is your doing, isn’t it?” Scootaloo said breaking the hug and tilting her head toward Rarity. Sweetie nodded sheepishly. “My best friend was going to move; I had to do something.” Scootaloo’s previous expression flitted across her face as she couldn’t bring herself to tell Sweetie Belle that her problem was far from solved.  But for now she wasn’t moving, and that meant at least a little more time with her friends. The thought made her smile again. “We should get going. We don’t want to be late for school.” Scootaloo said, grabbing her saddlebags and the lunch Rarity packed, bolting out the door. “Bye, Rarity,” Sweetie called over her shoulder as she chased after her friend. With the problem of what to do with Scootaloo for the short term taken care of, Rarity remembered her promise to Aurora to visit with Foal Services. She took another glance at the unfinished dresses in her parlor room and let out a sigh before shutting the door behind her. The Foal Services office was located in a non-descript, brick government office on the west side of Ponyville.  Ponies often confused Foal Services with its sister organization Foal Protective Services. Whereas Foal Protective Services was charged with investigating claims of abuse, neglect and truancy, Foal Services was responsible for running the foster care system. So, despite the overlap in their missions, they were housed in separate offices, albeit in the same building. A quick perusal of the directory posted in the lobby told Rarity the suite she wanted was 1B, so that’s where she went.  Foal Services looked like every other government office Rarity had been to. A simple wooden reception desk served as a gateway to a maze of cubicles, as overworked, underpaid bureaucrats scurried around trying to make a dent in their caseload. Rarity confidently walked up to the reception desk and announced her presence with a polite “Hello.” The mare behind the desk looked up, evidently waiting for Rarity to explain why she was there. “My name is Rarity. I’m here about a filly named Scootaloo. To whom should I be speaking with?” The name was clearly familiar to the mare at the desk, or at least she didn’t seem confused by it.  “I’ll get her case officer. You can wait here,” she said before disappearing into the labyrinth behind her. A minute or so later the receptionist behind the desk returned with a very haggard-looking, cream-colored pegasus stallion. He couldn’t have been that much older than Rarity, but his black mane already had traces of grey and the bags under his eyes made him look older than he was. Despite his appearance, he smiled kindly at Rarity as the two made eye contact.  “Right this way, Miss,” he said with a sweep of his foreleg. He led Rarity to a small conference room, and pulled a chair out for Rarity to sit in.  She sat down in the chair closest to the door and the stallion took the chair across from her. “My name is Autumn Wing, and I’m Scootaloo’s case officer. What can I do for you?” he said, as though this was a simple business transaction and not a child welfare case. “I understand that she is scheduled to move to Baltimare. As a sister of one of her friends, I would like to prevent that from happening.” Autumn’s expression, grew less benign, though still remained professional. “She is scheduled to move next week. Her new family is waiting for her,” he replied, somewhat puzzled. “Yes, well it seems to me that uprooting her life would traumatize an already emotionally fragile young filly further,” Rarity answered. The word traumatize clearly was a trigger, because at its utterance Autumn’s countenance shifted from professional to grim. “Aside from Scootaloo leaving Ms. Aurora's home to go to Baltimare, how much do you know of her situation?” “I know that she wants to stay in Ponyville,”Rarity repeated. “And just to be clear, what exactly is your interest in her?” “She's my sister's friend.” Autumn closed his eyes and sighed, his hooves rubbing against his forehead. "Is something the matter?" Rarity asked. "Okay," Autumn took a deep breath. “ Eight years ago Scootaloo was dropped off anonymously at Ponyville General shortly after she was born. No birth certificate, just a name tag clipped to a bundled filly in a basket. We tried to find her birth parents, but no hospitals in the area reported foals matching Scootaloo’s description having been born recently. Once she was declared officially abandoned we set about trying to find a home for her.” Rarity had a hard time reconciling the phrase “abandoned” with the casualness which it was uttered, but Autumn continued before she could object. “Placing a foal actually isn’t as difficult as you might imagine. She couldn’t fly, so Cloudsdale was out, but we found a family here in Ponyville who wanted a foal and couldn’t conceive one on their own. Father was a pegasus, mother was a unicorn, you’ll understand that I can’t release their names.” Rarity nodded and waited for the tragedy she knew was coming. “As was protocol, we checked in every month, making sure the parents and Scootaloo were doing okay. After a year, we marked the file as closed. Scootaloo was a happy and healthy foal; her parents took to parenthood quite naturally and so the adoption was finalized. Because the file was closed we don’t know exactly what happened next.”  Autumn steeled himself and took another deep breath, the action seemingly calming him down.  “They were in the process of going through a  divorce, that much we do know. Sad, but certainly not unheard of.  Then one day we get a letter from the father; he says that he’s left town and Scootaloo is alone in the house and we should go get her.  We assume the mother ran first and left him to be a single parent. What he did was child endangerment, so we issued a warrant for his arrest and went to the house.  I was there that day, it was the day I became her case officer.  I opened the door and found a terrified, starving filly, sitting in the middle of the kitchen, begging her daddy to come back.” Autumn shook his head and wiped his eyes. “I’m sorry. This job can be hard, but I’ve never heard anything as awful as the sounds she was making when we came to get her.” Rarity brought a hoof to her mouth in horror. “I had no idea,” she whispered. Autumn continued his story. “After a brief stay in the hospital for malnutrition, as well as some counseling sessions, we tried to place her in a new home.  For the first couple of weeks she kept running away, insisting that her dad was coming back.  When he didn’t, I think she realized he wasn’t going to. Since then we’ve placed her in five homes in the past four years. All the foster parents say the same thing; She’s not a bad filly, she doesn’t steal or fight with the other kids, but no matter what they try, she’s unhappy. She seems to have no interest in being part of the family. All five foster parents have suggested that maybe she'd be happier somewhere else. The family in Baltimare is pretty much the only option we have left.” “Just because it is your only choice does not make it a good one. It’s that kind of thinking that leads to gaudy necklaces paired with demure evening gowns. Dare I ask where the scoundrels who abandoned Scootaloo are now?” “Off the grid.  You want my guess, they probably fled to Gryphonia or Crete, somewhere without an extradition treaty,” Autumn said with a shrug. “Well, good riddance to bad rubbish,” Rarity said with an “hmph” added at the end for emphasis. “You’ll get no argument from me, but that doesn’t change the fact that Scootaloo needs a home, and we can’t find one in Ponyville.” “But she doesn’t want to leave!” Rarity exclaimed as though her vehemence represented some sort of solution. Autumn was evidently used to dealing with emotional mares, because he fixed Rarity with a stare while he raised a hoof and brought it down slowly in a half circle, the gesture temporarily soothing Rarity.  “I understand your concern, but you need to understand that I have an obligation to do what’s best for her.  And a home in Baltimare is better than no home here.” Rarity couldn’t argue with that logic. “If you had more time, could you place her in Ponyville?” Autumn considered the question carefully. “It’s possible; we get new applicants every week. Sometimes a spot in a transitional foster home opens up.” Her plan to provide Scootaloo a temporary home not immediately shot down, Rarity pressed on. “Okay, then I volunteer to be her foster mother until you can find a family willing to consider her on a full-time basis.” Autumn shook his head. “I can’t just name you her guardian. There are background checks, home visits, it’s a whole process.  I will not risk her long-term well-being for her short-term happiness.” Rarity was used to dealing with bureaucracies, importing gems and silks from other countries saw to that. One thing she learned was that, while it was almost impossible to bully bureaucrats into doing what you wanted, they could be gently led to where you wanted to go. “Can we agree that this is a bit of an unusual situation?” she asked calmly. Autumn nodded.  “Then is there some sort of emergency protocol that we can follow? I promise to submit to all the home visits and background checks you require, but I think it’s important to keep her in Ponyville.” Autumn studied the mare across from him carefully.  Like most Ponyville residents he knew about the Elements of Harmony. And Ponyville was a small town; tales of Rarity’s generosity had reached his ears. “Here’s what I will do.  I will delay her transfer to Baltimare, and name you her custodian.” Rarity cringed at the last word. “It’s like a guardian only without as many rights.” Autumn clarified, noting her discomfort. “That will give us time to do our due diligence and see how Scootaloo feels about living with you.” “I assure you, you will find nothing the least bit tawdry.” “I don’t imagine we will.  Assuming it goes as planned, you can be her guardian until we find a more permanent option, and I don’t know how long that will take.” Rarity winced. “I don’t mean to sound cold, but I have no interest in adopting her permanently. She needs a loving family, and I can’t give her one by myself.” Autumn sighed. “I understand, being a mother is a big responsibility. But Scootaloo needs someone to be responsible for her, whether that’s in Ponyville or Baltimare. And if I think for a second that this is not in her best interest I will move her.” “I will provide her a place to stay in Ponyville, until you can find a family willing to take her in here.  And I will be responsible for her health and safety until then.” Rarity said, repeating the terms of the arrangement they had worked out. Autumn nodded.  “I’ll start the paperwork.” After her visit with Foal Services, Rarity went to the market as promised. She made sure to pick up peanut butter, jelly, daisies and lots of barley. She also picked up several flavors of ice cream and cookies, for herself as much as Scootaloo. She had taken the Crusaders to Sugarcube Corner a few times, but try as she might, she couldn’t recall what Scootaloo had ordered.  She also reflected on the times Scootaloo had slept over, but she found herself unable to recall any real details about those nights either. It had all seemed so ordinary that Rarity hadn’t given the orange filly a second thought beyond her immediate needs. Rarity returned to the boutique with the intention of throwing herself into her work, lest she fall too far behind on her orders; however, she quickly realized that she was too distracted to focus on any of her jobs that required even a modicum of creativity. A client had commissioned an original gown for an art gallery opening, but every dress Rarity tried to sketch out ended up being orange with purple trim. She accepted that she wasn’t going to get anything new designed today, so she shifted her focus to the orders she had whose designs were complete. Focusing on the rote task of sewing and measuring fabric allowed her a  respite of sorts from thinking about Scootaloo. The filly was still on her mind, but at least the rhythm of the needle going through fabric functioned as a sort of hypnotic device, keeping those thoughts just below the surface.   Later in the afternoon, Scootaloo walked through the door of the Boutique and looking at the filly Rarity found it impossible to view Scootaloo the way she did this morning.  Before learning about her past, she would have said Scootaloo was a brash, stubborn but ultimately good little filly who just needed her rough edges smoothed out a bit. Now it was impossible for Rarity not to consider Scootaloo’s attitude as a byproduct of the extensive emotional distress she had to endure. Rarity waited until Scootaloo had set aside her saddle bags before speaking to her.  She wasted no time with pleasantries, deciding to address the obvious question of where Scootaloo was going to live first. “I spoke to Autumn Wing today-” Scootaloo interrupted before Rarity could finish her sentence. “Fine, so now you know.  Nopony ever wants me around. I don’t care. I don’t need a family.” Rarity recoiled in shock, despite everything she knew about Scootaloo’s experiences with family. Rarity didn’t always get along with her own family, but she couldn’t imagine life without them. “Everypony needs a family, Scootaloo,” she replied, Scootaloo’s statement having derailed her train of thought. Scootaloo started to tear up, her lip quivering, ears momentarily pinned flat against her head. “Not me. They don’t want me, well I don’t want them!” she shouted, her voice growing louder with each word. “And you’re not my family either!” she screamed before sprinting upstairs and slamming the door.   Rarity was about to follow the orange filly upstairs, but paused. ‘“Scootaloo isn’t going anywhere and, if she’s anything like Sweetie Belle, she could use some time to calm down anyway” she rationalized. The order form on the dress caught her eye. It was due to go out tomorrow morning and she hadn’t gotten nearly as much done as she wanted to today. She sighed, and turned to finish her work. A few hours later Scootaloo still hadn’t come downstairs. Reasoning that, perhaps, her guest had calmed down enough to talk, she began to walk up the stairs to meet on Scootaloo’s terms. When she neared the top her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of soft whines coming from Scootaloo’s room. Rarity composed herself and gently pushed the door open. Inside she found Scootaloo sitting on her bed, staring at her hooves, her eyes the same ugly shade of red she recognized yesterday. Instead of scowling at Rarity, as she had been expecting, Scootaloo greeted her with a question. “Why didn’t they want me?” a ragged voice asked. Rarity considered what she had learned today. “Ponies get divorced Scootaloo, it had nothing to do with you,” guessing that she was referring to the ponies who had abandoned her during their divorce. Scootaloo shook her head. “Not them! My real parents. Why didn’t they want me?” “You were just a baby-” “I was just a baby!” Scootaloo cried, repeating Rarity’s words though the meaning was completely different. “What could have been so terrible about me that they didn’t want to keep me? Is it because I can’t fly?” The question was asked in earnest, but Rarity had no answer to give. Rarity took a seat on the edge of the bed. Close enough so that her presence might serve as a balm, but with enough room to let Scootaloo decide how much personal space she was comfortable with. “I refuse to believe that you were anything but the most darling little foal. I don’t know why your parents abandoned you at the hospital, but as far as I’m concerned, it’s their loss.” Scootaloo shook her head again and made no effort to move closer to the unicorn sitting near her. “You don’t mean that. Stop lying to me,” she said hoping the venom in her tone would mask the sore throat she had gotten from crying. “Why would you think I’m lying to you?” “Because nopony ever wants me around very long, why would you be any different?” Scootaloo’s voice wasn’t angry. Rather, it was filled with a weary resignation. Every family she ever lived with had decided they didn’t want her. Since the only common denominator in all of those situations was her, clearly there must be something fundamentally wrong with her, Scootaloo reasoned.  And whatever was wrong with her prevented her from having a family. So why would Rarity be any different? At some point, Rarity would recognize the horrible flaw that made her unloveable and then it’d be off to the next foster parent until the cycle repeated itself. While Scootaloo reviewed the cold logic of why she couldn’t have a family, Rarity thought carefully about how to answer the question. Because I’m not them? That seemed like a line Scootaloo had heard too many times before. Because Sweetie Belle is my sister? That seemed cruel, this was about Scootaloo, not Sweetie. “Because you’re already here. If I didn’t ‘want you around’ it would have been far easier to just let you move to Baltimare,” Rarity answered. It wasn’t the most eloquent answer she had ever given, but it was the best she could come up with. Scootaloo was about to disagree but again she was forced to concede that Rarity had a point. “Why are you doing this then?” she asked with a mix of wonder and genuine curiosity. “Can you believe that I’d like to see you happy?”   Rarity’s answer had the  unintended effect of snapping Scootaloo back to her previous melancholy state. “Everypony always wants me to be happy. Well I’m not happy, okay? Why can’t anypony accept me for who I am?” Rarity was forced to consider that there was an element of truth to Scootaloo’s cynicism. Autumn’s words came rushing back to her, No matter what they try she’s unhappy. She seems to have no interest in being part of the family. “I see. Is that really what you want?” she asked softly. Scootaloo sniffled loudly, wiping her nose with her foreleg. “What do you mean?”  “If it is, in fact, what you want, I will not concern myself with making you happy.  That’s not to suggest I won’t care about you. You are my responsibility for the time being. I expect you to go to school and tell me where you are when you are not in school. And I expect you to let me care for you in some fashion, things like food and clothing. I won’t have you living under my roof cold and hungry. But if you would rather I not concern myself with your happiness, we can try it your way.”   Scootaloo blinked her eyes rapidly. In a strange way, it was the nicest thing anypony had ever offered to do for her. “I’m still not calling you mom. And I shouldn’t have to help out at the dress shop and I’m not going to blindly accept the first family that offers to take me off your hooves,” Scootaloo said, listing off a few of the things she was worried about, attempting to reclaim some degree of agency. Rarity held up a hoof before Scootaloo could make any more demands. “We can work all of that out later,” Rarity answered quietly. “For now why don’t you go get cleaned up and I’ll start dinner. Is barley soup okay with you?”