Three Gems and a Scooter

by RaylanKrios


Look out the Window

Given that Scootaloo had agreed to possibly help out for future chores, Rarity decided to cut Scootaloo some slack this one time and clean up the mess presently in her kitchen. She left Scootaloo to her own devices and began the process of returning her kitchen to its usual immaculate state.  She also had a hunch that she might need some tea soon, so she put on a kettle on a very low flame. Waiting for the inevitable, she picked up the cupcake wrappers and wiped her counter free of crumbs and remnants of frosting.

She was just about finished when Scootaloo came walking in the room, awkwardly clutching her barrel with one foreleg.

“I don’t feel so good,” Scootaloo groaned, looking decidedly distressed.

A conflicting mix of emotions ran through Rarity. She was certainly sympathetic towards the filly who was probably dealing with a rather nasty tummy ache. But another part of her reasoned that Scootaloo’s current distress was entirely of her own doing and therefore somewhat deserved. “Do you think that’s because you ate six cupcakes in one sitting?” she asked, with a knowing raise of her right eyebrow.

Scootaloo shrugged, the action causing her to grimace in pain. “I don’t know, maybe. But they tasted so good,” she said before letting out another pained moan.

As if to punctuate her point, the shrill whistle of Rarity’s kettle pierced the air.  “Why don’t you go lie down?  I’ll bring you some ginger tea; it will help make you feel better,” Rarity suggested, her sympathy outweighing her less charitable thoughts.

Scootaloo didn’t have it in her to argue even if she wanted to. She stumbled toward the couch and climbed up, lying on her back, her wings propped under her for support.

Rarity brought her a steaming mug of tea using a simple levitation spell and sat down next to her. Scootaloo sniffed at the tea warily, but after finding the smell not terribly offensive she cautiously took the mug between both hooves. Using her hoof Rarity traced small circles around Scootaloo’s belly, just like her mom used to do for her when she was sick, while Scootaloo sipped at the ginger concoction.

Scootaloo flinched at the unexpected touch, scrunching her back legs in an effort to shield herself. She glanced up from behind her mug, her face a mixture of fear and apprehension.

Rarity immediately began to grow concerned that even a simple touch elicited such an alarming reaction from the little filly. But Scootaloo was in pain and now was not the time to delve into her troubled psyche. Rarity stopped her motion, letting her hoof rest comfortably on Scootaloo’s stomach, and rolled her eyes as though Scootaloo was merely playing some sort of game. “Really dear? I promise I won’t hurt you,” she said, hoping that her tone carried her message as much as her words.

Scootaloo slowly straightened her back legs keeping her eyes solely fixed on Rarity, leaving herself vulnerable once again. Approval tenuously granted, Rarity gently resumed her motion.

 “That’s better. Now then, I wager that you should spend a quiet evening at home. Perhaps you would like something to read?” Rarity asked, continuing to rub Scootaloo’s stomach.  

Despite the soothing nature of the tea, and Rarity’s gentle touch Scootaloo still balked at the word home. She didn’t have a home. She never had a home. She had a place she could hang her helmet and four walls that kept the cold out. Homes were places you felt wanted. Homes were things that other ponies had and took for granted.  But she was in too much pain to protest, and a book would give her something to focus on that wasn’t the twisting knot in her stomach. She nodded meekly. “Have any Daring Do?”

Rarity shook her head. “As a matter of fact, no, Sweetie called them—what was it? Derivative and insipid,” Rarity said with an apologetic smile.

Scootaloo didn’t know what those two words meant, but there would be time to look them up using an actual dictionary later. Rainbow Dash liked Daring Do and that meant that Daring Do was the opposite of derivative and insipid. Unless that meant good in which case the Daring Do series were the most derivative and insipid books ever.

“Sweetie Belle enjoys a series of books called The Dresden Files. They are about a unicorn in Chicoltgo who uses his magic to fight all sorts of monsters—I think. In any case, Sweetie seems to enjoy them.  Would you like to try one of them?”

Stories about magic wielding unicorns weren’t exactly Scootaloo’s favorite genre. She preferred action packed tales about pegasi; but she’d rather read about monster fights than any of the books about fashion she was sure Rarity had lying around. Also Sweetie Belle apparently liked them, so maybe that would give her another shared interest with one of her best friends.

In her more private moments, Scootaloo often worried that she didn’t have much in common with her fellow crusader. She wasn’t a brainiac, and of course she couldn’t do magic. She shared a love of being outdoors and taking risk with Apple Bloom, but Sweetie always seemed like she was more of a willing participant than an active one in those adventures. If they hadn’t both been searching for their cutie marks she struggled to imagine what she and Sweetie would do together.

And that thought worried her. Sweetie was one of her best friends—a fact that she had proven time and time again, not the least of which was her being the only reason Scootaloo was lying on a couch in Ponyville and not Baltimare.

“That’d be okay,” Scootaloo said quietly. If Rarity noticed that the pain in Scootaloo’s response originated from worrying about one of the few relationships she valued and not her current intestinal discomfort, she didn’t say anything.

Rarity selected the first book in the series from it’s spot on Sweetie’s bookshelf, vaguely and ominously titled Storm Front, and brought it along with a blanket over for Scootaloo.  “Do you need anything else?”

The tea and belly rub had seemingly begun to have their intended effect as Scootaloo was no longer grimacing in pain. “No,” Scootaloo said quietly, before quickly adding a “Thank you.”

“Very well, I shall be in my parlor room. Just…yell if you need anything,” Rarity said, unable to come up with an alternative and refusing to give Scootaloo a bell to summon her with.

Rarity spent the evening sewing and designing a few gowns, under the watchful eye of her cat, who sat perched on top of her scratching post like some sort of sentry. If there was one thing that had gone right so far, it was that Opalescence seemed to tolerate her new houseguest.  Of course, the fact that Scootaloo preferred to give Opal a wide berth and her presence hadn’t disrupted Opal’s scheduled feeding had more to do with it than anything else. Regardless, Rarity was glad she didn’t have to deal with an even more temperamental than usual cat in addition to everything else.

Eventually it grew late and Rarity felt her eyes grow heavy. Scootaloo had excused herself to go to bed awhile ago and Rarity was beginning to think she had the right idea.  She carried herself up the stairs but stopped when she reached the top.  From her position outside Scootaloo’s room she heard a faint whimper, similar to what she heard last night. Rarity gently pushed the door open and stepped inside.

She had to squint to see more clearly in the moonlit room, but even at low light it was clear to see that Scootaloo was shaking.  Instead of lying in bed as one might expect Scootaloo was curled up in a ball, sitting on her haunches with her forelegs hugging her knees tight.

Scootaloo looked up and stared at Rarity with wide eyes. If she was bothered by the intrustion she didn't show it, of course it may have been that she was simply to upset to care. “I’m never going to have a family. Everypony else gets one, why don’t I?” she croaked, her voice ragged and full of anguish.

“Scootaloo—”

But Scootaloo continued before Rarity could even begin her thought. “I’m a pegasus who can’t fly, and I’m not a baby anymore.  I know that most ponies want to adopt foals.  And pegasi want ponies who can fly, and unicorns want ponies who can do magic, and earth ponies want earth ponies, so who would want to adopt me?”

Rarity didn’t have an answer for that question. If she knew someone who was willing to adopt Scootaloo, neither of them would be here right now. But just because she didn’t know who was going to be Scootaloo’s family didn’t mean they didn’t exist. Rarity walked over to the bed and sat down next to her guest. “Look out the window Scootaloo,” Rarity said softly gesturing towards the moon shining brightly in the sky. Scootaloo wasn’t sure what the view from her temporary bedroom had to do with anything but it’s wasn’t like the request was an onerous one.

“Somewhere out there is a pair of ponies who are probably looking up at the same night sky, wondering where they are going to find a child of their very own, and one day you two will find each other and you’ll both make each other very happy.”

But Scootaloo wasn’t soothed by Rarity’s words or the thought of some hypothetical ponies looking at the same moon she saw. “I know you’re lying to me,” she muttered.

Rarity inched closer to the little filly, in part so that her presence might be more soothing and in part so she could speak softly. “Why would I lie to you, Scootaloo?”

“To get me to go to sleep so you can go to bed, to make me feel better so you don’t feel bad about leaving me alone to cry, or because it’s just what ponies do. Pick one,” Scootaloo said, enumerating each point with a flick of her hoof.

Rather than counter with any sort of argument Rarity simply responded with a gentle “Oh, Scootaloo,” and brought her in for a hug. It was more instinct than anything else, but it still had a profound effect on the young pegasus.

Scootaloo didn’t hug a lot of ponies. She couldn’t remember hugging her first set of parents, though she was sure it must have happened. Her foster parents were uniformly respectful of her personal space and she had never offered much in the way of affection.  She had hugged her fellow crusaders a few times, and also Rainbow Dash, but that was pretty much it. Her first impression was that Rarity’s coat was much softer than Rainbow Dash’s; unsurprisingly, it reminded her a little bit of Sweetie’s.

But what made it different than that of her friend’s embrace was that of pervading warmth, both literally and figuratively. Yes, Rarity was larger than Sweetie Belle so she exuded more body heat, and from her spot nestled securely between Rarity’s forelegs she took a moment to enjoy the physical sensation. But whereas she had always hugged Sweetie Belle in moments of celebration or perhaps forgiveness she had never been physically comforted by her friend. So here Rarity was, hugging her for no other reason than it might make her feel better. From within the recesses of her own thoughts she heard Rarity whisper, “I’m sorry, Scootaloo.” She wasn’t really sure what Rarity meant, but between the hug and the apology it was getting harder for Scootaloo to maintain the belief that Rarity was being kind only as a favor to her sister. The emotional walls Scootaloo had erected to protect herself still stood thick and strong, but a small crack emanated from one of the cornerstones.

After a long moment Rarity released Scootaloo and allowed her to reestablish her personal space. “Does this happen often?” Rarity asked, studying Scootaloo for any hint of deception.

“Does what happen?”

“Crying alone at night?”

Scootaloo sniffled loudly and shrugged.  She didn’t keep track of how many nights she stayed up crying until she collapsed from the pressure.  Sometimes she’d be okay for a week or two and then without warning she’d suffer a string of sleepless nights.  She had hoped that when Rarity interrupted her last night, that it mean that her latest attack was short lived, but that hope was extinguished when she started sobbing again tonight.

Scootaloo couldn’t figure out why she cried at night.  During the day she felt fine.  She wasn’t happy, usually, but she never just broke down and started sobbing for no reason.  Even when Diamond Tiara was making fun of her, Scootaloo prided herself on keeping a stiff upper lip. But at night, when she was alone, and there was nothing to distract her, she would be hit with a wave of intense sorrow and that feeling kept repeating the same five words, you deserve to be alone.

And so she cried. She cried because it was the response she had. But there was no way Rarity would understand that, so rather than explain all of this to her temporary caregiver she simply answered, “I don’t know, sometimes. Why do you care? You said that I didn’t have to be happy.”

“This isn’t simply unhappy Scootaloo. I can tolerate whatever façade you wish to present. But this is unhealthy.”

“So what? Don’t you think I’d stop if I could?”

Rarity mentally added this to the growing list of challenges that Scootaloo presented. She didn’t have an answer for Scootaloo and even if she did it wouldn’t be a simple solution.  Her exhaustion pounded against her psyche and Rarity began to think that exhaustion was a feeling she’d have to grow familiar with. “We’re not going to solve this tonight dear. Would you like another lullaby? That seemed to calm you yesterday.”

Scootaloo shook her head, but then looked up at Rarity with her eyes settling on the bed beneath her, almost as though she was embarrassed. “But do you think maybe you could do that thing with your horn?” she said quietly, not daring to let Rarity see the vulnerability in her eyes.

Rarity responded with a tender “Of course, dear,” and proceeded to light up her horn. Scootaloo was again  enveloped in a soft blue glow, which had its intended effect. Soon Scootaloo had drifted off to sleep and Rarity was left wondering what she could possibly do.