Fair Bargain

“It’s not fair! She’s my best friend and they’re gonna take her away.”

The normal tranquility that the Carousel Boutique enjoyed after closing had been shattered by the shrill wails of Sweetie Belle as she burst through the front door in tears.

Aware of Sweetie Belle’s habit of sometimes jumping to the worst possible conclusions, Rarity didn’t immediately panic. It was entirely possible that Apple Bloom was going to visit one of her many relatives for a week and Sweetie Belle was crying over nothing. She put down the fabric she was measuring and looked up from her workstation. “Calm down, Sweetie. Who’s taking who away?”

“Scootaloo! The foster mom she’d been staying with for the past few months doesn’t want her anymore and she says that the adoption agency says that they found a family in Baltimare who’s willing to take her and so they’re sending her away and I’m never gonna see her again and she’s my best friend and it’s not fair!” Verbalizing her fear sent a fresh wave of tears cascading down her cheeks.

Before Rarity could come up with an appropriate response, she briefly reviewed what she knew about the orange pegasus who comprised one third of the trio that was responsible for wrecking her kitchen on occasion. She was an orphan. Rarity wasn’t sure what happened to her birth parents, but the one time she had met Scootaloo’s mother, she had introduced herself as Scootaloo’s foster mom. Rarity didn’t push for any more details after that, and Scootaloo seemed happy enough every time the crusaders had used the Boutique as a base for their misadventures. Sweetie Belle had never voiced any worries about Scootaloo’s home life before, so the fact that she was hysterical over Scootaloo’s relocation came as more than a little surprise.

Rarity levitated her sister over to her and wrapped her in a hug. She took another moment to reflect on her relationship with her sister. She didn’t always show it, but she did care very deeply about the happiness of the filly currently crying into her coat. “Maybe I can help?” she offered in the way that big sisters often did, despite not having any real idea about how to go about helping their little sisters.

“How?” Sweetie choked out between sobs.

Sweetie's one word question and very real distress spurred Rarity to begin assessing a proper course of action. Scootaloo was apparently being sent to a foster home in Baltimare, presumably a little against her will. Rarity wasn’t all that familiar with how foster care worked, but she assumed that if there was a place for Scootaloo in Ponyville then she wouldn’t have to move. With that thought in mind, there had to be somepony in Ponyville who could be Scootaloo’s foster parent. She quickly did a review of prospective candidates that she knew.

Her own parents were out; they had one filly to take care of and had already raised her. It seemed wrong to ask them to add another filly to that list.

Pinkie was likewise quickly ruled out, she would make a great mom someday, but she had her hooves full with her second job as the Cake’s regular babysitter, and her apartment above Sugarcube Corner really wasn’t built for two. Maybe as a last resort.

What about Rainbow Dash? She lived in a cloudhouse, so Scootaloo’s inability to fly would be a problem. Secondly, nurturing and patient weren’t the first words she would use to describe her multi-hued friend. But she was a pegasus and Scootaloo idolized her. It was worth considering.

Fluttershy was a possibility. She was caring, patient, the living embodiment of kindness. She was a pegasus also, so she would know how to handle things like molting and preening. In addition, unlike Rainbow Dash, she lived on the ground. She did have a lot of animals in her house, but surely she could find room for an orange filly, even if her timid nature wasn't a great fit for Scootaloo's brashness.

Twilight was out. She did take care of Spike, so the duties of a caregiver weren’t new to her. But she was busy with her responsibilites to Equestria as a princess, and with her new castle she had been busier than usual. Rarity wasn’t sure she could add being a mother to that without it becoming overwhelming.

Applejack? She already knew how to take care of a filly and had a built in support system. Rarity wasn’t sure if there was room in the Apple House for another tenant, but maybe Scootaloo could bunk with Apple Bloom. Applejack was a strong possibility.

Rarity gently rubbed Sweetie’s back in an effort to calm her down. “Sweetie, I’m going to try and fix this, okay? I need to go talk to some ponies first, but I think there might be a way to keep you and Scootaloo from having to split up.”

Sweetie took a break from matting her sister’s coat with tears to look up, “R-Really, you think you can keep Scootaloo in Ponyville?”

“I’m going to try. So you run along home to mom and dad and I’ll come visit you later.”

Sweetie sniffled and rubbed her eyes, a faint smile shone through her features as she nodded, unable to actually speak the words of gratitude she felt, before scampering out the door.

Determined to make Sweetie Belle happy and armed with her list of prospective foster parents Rarity set out to find Scootaloo a home in Ponyville. There were some potential options available. She had closed the Boutique early today so she could work on some special orders; thus it was early enough in the afternoon that she could start her foray immediately. A quick glance over at her unfinished dresses followed by the thought of her heartbroken sister made it clear what was more important. First stop, Sweet Apple Acres.

“Yeah I know, ‘Bloom told me.”

“If you already know then what are you doing to try and stop it?” Rarity was prepared for some resistance, but she hadn’t considered that Applejack was apparently willing to let Scootaloo be relocated without trying to find an alternative.

“Dontcha think I’d try to help if I could? I went down to the Foal Services offices to see if there was anything that could be done. As much as it upsets those fillies, this may be the best thing for little Scoots.”

“How can you possibly say that? You of all ponies know how much that friendship means to them!”

“I know that, sure as shootin’, but I also know that friends move away sometimes. It ain’t like they’re sending her to an orphanage. Where they’re sending her sounds nice, she’ll have a family, brothers and sisters, ponies who will care about her. I’m not sure we should stand in the way of that.”

“She could have had that here! You could offer to be her foster mom. I’m sure you would get approved.”

Applejack let out a pained sigh. “I thought about it, really I did. But we ain’t got the time, bits or space round here for another Apple. It wouldn’t be fair bringing a filly in like that, and it wouldn’t be fair to Mac, Granny or ‘Bloom to ask.”

“You are as aware as I am that they would agree to help Scootaloo without hesitation,” Rarity shot back.

“Sure they would, they’re Apples. That don’t mean it’s right to ask them. It ain’t a question about caring about Scootaloo, because you know we love her like she was one of ours. But I gotta be honest, it sounds like Baltimare is the right place for her.”

“Squirt’s movin?”

“Yes, Rainbow Dash. The foster care system is having trouble placing her here in Ponyville. But if somepony in town were willing to open their home, maybe another pegasus whom already has a relationship with her...?” Rarity fervently hoped she didn’t have to spell out the rest of her thought process.

Rainbow Dash looked bewildered until she realized what Rarity was implying, then she simply looked incredulous. “You mean me? You’re joking right Rares?”

“I most certainly am not. You care about her, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I like the kid in a ‘spend a few hours with her every other week’ kinda way. Look at me, Rares, I’m lazy, irresponsible and I only know how to cook two things. I’ve got Wonderbolt duties that come up randomly and I spend half my day napping. I’m not ready for a kid and we both know it. I’ll go visit her in Baltimare but I can’t be her mom.”

“Oh that poor thing. I know she’ll miss her friends terribly.”

“Yes dear, I agree. But she doesn’t have to move away, I’m trying to find a pony in Ponyville to be her foster mom and I thought you might consider it.”

“Me?” Fluttershy squeaked.

“You’ve foal sat for Scootaloo before, and you’re marvelous at taking care of animals, it doesn’t seem like a stretch to suggest that you would make a great mother. And of course we’ll all be here to help,” Rarity finished her explanation with a warm smile in an effort to pre-emptively placate her often nervous friend.

Fluttershy shook her head sadly. "It's sweet that you think I'd make a great mother, but... I'm already fostering dozens of animals."

"So what's the problem with taking in another houseguest?"

"She's not an animal - she's a pony. Her needs are far more involved than the critters I've already got, and I've already got my hooves quite full. She needs somepony that can devote themselves fully to parenting, and I... I really can't. Umm, do you know what’s going to happen to her?”

Rarity briefly considered lying before coming to her senses. Aside from being incredibly duplicitous, the truth would almost certainly come out and then she would lose a dear friend, but it was a testament to her growing desperation that she even considered it.

Rarity sighed. “A family in Baltimare wants to adopt her; I’m trying to find somepony here to take care of her so she and Sweetie can stay together.”

“That’s very nice of you, Rarity, going through all this trouble for your sister. If you don’t mind, can I ask why you won’t be Scootaloo’s foster mom?”

Rarity balked at the question. “I-I’ve never really thought about it. I’m so busy with my dresses, and Scootaloo and I have nothing in common. I have a hard enough time connecting with Sweetie Belle as it is.”

Fluttershy nodded in her usual demure fashion. “I understand, and I wish I could help you but I just don’t think there’s anything I can do. You’ll let me know if I can help though, right?”

“Of course dear, thank you.” Rarity offered Fluttershy a quick peck on the cheek and promise of a spa visit before trotting off.

Rarity left Fluttershy’s cottage feeling significantly less optimistic than she did when she set out on this journey. She couldn’t really be mad at her friends; they didn’t want to take on the responsibilities of being a foster parent precisely because they knew how important it was. And Applejack in particular was right. Scootaloo wasn’t being banished to a barren wasteland, left to fend for herself; there was a family willing to take her in.

Asking someone to be a foster mom wasn’t like buying a dress. If you didn’t like your purchase, it’s not like you could return it. Though wasn’t that what Scootaloo’s current foster mom was doing? I don’t need to find somepony to be her foster mom, she already has one! Buoyed by that thought, she set out to talk to Scootaloo’s current caregiver, in the hopes that she could use her powers of persuasion to keep Scootaloo in Ponyville.

A quick visit to town hall and sweet talking a young staffer later, Rarity found herself at the door of Scootaloo’s now very temporary lodgings. From the outward appearance, Rarity couldn’t diagnose the problem. Scootaloo’s home was a quaint, light blue, modern three story house. The neatness of the yard and the pristine white picket fence announcing that the owner clearly took pride maintaining a clean home. There were a few childrens toys arranged neatly by the side of the house, they were well worn, but otherwise in good condition, suggesting that they received a lot of use as well as care.

Unsure of the best course of action, but also lacking the time to come up with a better plan, she simply knocked on the door using the polished brass door knocker.

Almost immediately after making her presence known, the door opened. In front of her stood a middle-aged mare, a little taller than herself, with a teal coat and a fading grey mane. Rarity studied her for a moment, it would appear that being a foster mom aged one quickly, but Scootaloo’s foster mother wore it well. Years of customer service had given Rarity a fairly good sense of intuition about ponies. The mare in front of her certainly didn’t seem cruel or uncaring, but she didn’t exactly exude warmth and love either. Not a problem, Rarity had yet to meet anypony she couldn’t connect with on at least some level.

“Hello dear, my name is Rarity, I’m… Scootaloo is a friend of my sister. I’m looking for an Aurora Hoofington. I was told she was Scootaloo’s foster mother?”

The mare at the door regarded her suspiciously. “I’m her. What is this about?” The question was guarded, not exactly hostile, but still well shy of welcoming.

“I don’t mean to pry, but could I ask why you’re not continuing in that role? Scootaloo seems like a wonderful little filly, why would you not want to keep her as part of your family?” Not exactly a subtle inquiry, but a soft approach nevertheless.

“I'm not your typical foster parent and this isn't a typical foster home. I take in a lot of children who have trouble being placed. When they arrive I make it very clear what I expect from them: They have to do their chores, be in bed by ten, keep their grades up and follow the rules. If they do that then there is a place for them here, if not then they can try somewhere else. Scootaloo seems unwilling to agree to that,” Aurora said in a flat no-nonsense tone of voice.

Rarity recoiled slightly at Aurora’s apparent expectations for her family. “Forgive me for being brusque, but that sounds a little cold.”

“Foster children like Scootaloo need structure, if they are willing to work with me on that structure, the warmth can come later. Forgive me for being ‘brusque’, but I’ve been doing this longer than you have.”

Rarity couldn’t deny that she was very new to this dynamic. “I see. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to give Scootaloo another chance? It’s just that she has friends here in Ponyville and I would so hate to see them broken up," she said, hoping some of Applejack's earnestness had rubbed off on her.

Finally, Rarity saw the tough exterior of Aurora crack slightly. “Despite what you may think, I’m not heartless. Scootaloo’s had a tough go of it and I feel for her. That’s why I’ve given her a second and a third chance. She doesn’t seem interested in being here, and I don’t have the energy to spend on a pony who doesn’t want it.”

Rarity frowned, she hadn’t really considered that the decision to move Scootaloo wasn’t capricious, which would mean that convincing this Mrs. Hoofington to allow Scootaloo to stay in Ponyville would be harder than she thought. Still, perhaps there was a way to salvage this relationship. “If I talk to her about trying a little harder, do you think you might be willing to give her one last chance?”

Mrs. Hoofington studied the strange white unicorn in front of her who had come to plead for one of the fillies in her care. She seemed sincere about wanting Scootaloo to stay, and Rarity didn’t strike her as the type of pony who would vouch for a lost cause. “If she’s willing to put in an honest effort I’m willing to give her one more chance.” The emphasis on “one” made it clear to Rarity that that number was not up for debate. “She’s in her room. Upstairs, third door on the left.”

Rarity quickly trotted upstairs and gently pushed the third door on the left open. Inside was a small, but clean room, containing a matching wooden bedroom set, bed, dresser, and desk. There were also some standard, if a bit dated, decorations; mostly flowers and rainbows. All things considered, it seemed like a perfectly nice place to live, even if it was not exactly "in style". In stark contrast to the serenity of the room was Scootaloo. There was an open green suitcase that sat on her bed while she rummaged through her drawers, apparently deciding what she wanted to take with her. Rather than disrupt the process, Rarity observed the little filly for a few moments in the hopes of learning something that could help solve the predicament she had wandered into.

Scootaloo was clearly upset, that was obvious. From what Rarity could see as Scootaloo turned her head to check on her suitcase, her eyes were an ugly shade of red and her movements were jerky and stiff. Her wings stayed tucked against her sides as various articles of clothing and the occasional book got tossed over her shoulder, accompanied by an unintelligible muttered phrase.

Having seen enough, Rarity pushed the door all the way open and knocked gently. “Hello, Scootaloo.”

Scootaloo wheeled around to face her intruder, her expression quickly betraying her surprise until it hardened into a more familiar stoic look. “What are you doing here?”

That was actually kind of a complicated question, that Rarity wasn’t sure how to answer, in part because she wasn’t entirely sure herself what she was doing in Scootaloo’s room. “I came to talk to you,” seemed like a good place to start.

“So talk.”

Not exactly a friendly greeting, but Rarity pressed on. “Well, I understand that you’re leaving Mrs. Hoofington, how do you feel about that?”

“Whatever, it’s not like she wants me here anyway. Why do you care?”

That was another complicated question. She did care about Scootaloo in the same way that she cared about everypony in her life, but if it were only her feelings then she had to be honest that the idea of Scootaloo living somewhere else wasn’t a huge concern. But for Sweetie Belle it was, and that was her motivation. She decided that this was one of those times where complete honesty was, in fact, not the best policy. “Because I care about what happens to you.” It was a true enough statement.

“No you don’t.” Scootaloo’s reply was quick and brutal. Her tone made it clear that “I care about you” was an oft told lie that she had no interest in believing.

Again, the response to that was probably too complicated to be helpful. Rarity took a moment to remind herself that she was dealing with an emotionally frayed and fragile young filly. Complex lectures about the exact nature of relationships as they extended to others on the periphery of those associations were not entirely appropriate. Maybe she could use Scootaloo’s friendship with her sister to gain a hoofhold. “Yes I do, but I can see that I’m not going to convince you of that. Do you think Sweetie Belle cares about you?”

Scootaloo grunted. Rarity was willing to bet that there were a lot of ponies Scootaloo had met whom she was certain didn’t care about her. But Rarity also doubted very much that Sweetie Belle was one of them.

Hearing no objection, Rarity amended her previous declaration. “Then, for now, would you believe that I care about what happens to you on Sweetie’s behalf?”

“I guess that makes sense,” Scootaloo offered cautiously.

“Good.” A temporary understanding reached, Rarity wasted no time with small talk. “I talked to Mrs. Hoofington, she seems to think you aren’t happy here.”

“Why should I be? She doesn’t want me,” Scootaloo snapped.

Rarity laid out what little she she knew, in the hopes that Scootaloo could provide more clarity. “It appears to me, darling, that she is offering you a place to stay so long as you do some chores and follow some rules. Even if she doesn’t want you here, that seems like a fair bargain.” Rarity paused to observe Scootaloo’s reaction, the filly stayed surprisingly still, as though she was afraid to betray any emotion. “If you don’t want to move to Baltimare, I think I can convince her to let you stay here. You would have to promise to do your chores though.”

Rarity’s offer did provoke a reaction from Scootaloo, but not the one she was hoping for. “Why should I do chores for her, huh?” Scootaloo answered angrily. “She already gets a paycheck from the government to take care of me.” Scootaloo stared off into the wall before shaking her head vigorously. “No, I’m not doing some stupid chores for a stupid pony that doesn’t even want me in their stupid house.”

Rarity considered Scootaloo’s objection. Foal Services did provide stipend checks to foster parents, but Rarity doubted that Mrs. Hoofington was using Scootaloo as a means to an end. Besides the checks were rather paltry last she heard of it. Regardless debating fiscal policy with regards to child care was not why she was here either. “I see. If it were up to you, would you stay in Ponyville?”

Scootaloo stared at the ground and trembled ever so slightly. “Yeah, but it’s not up to me. Nopony here wants me, so they’re shipping me off to Baltimare where I’ll bounce around some other foster homes who don’t want me until I’m old enough to take care of myself. Then I’ll be awesome and they’ll all be sorry they didn’t like me,” she mumbled, her voice on the verge of cracking.

Rarity felt her heart break as she listened to Scootaloo’s declaration of her future. The little filly was much too young to feel so unloved. Fluttershy’s question came rushing back, Why not me? Well, there were a lot of reasons actually, but looking at the filly in front of her the only thought that seemed to matter was that Scootaloo deserved a home where she felt wanted. She clearly didn’t want to stay in this house, but she also was obviously upset about moving to a different city. Rarity wasn’t sure that she could commit to being a foster mom, but she could offer Scootaloo a place to stay until a more permanent solution could be found. Yes, that will do quite nicely.

“What if you stayed at the boutique? At least for a little while, until we can find someplace that you do feel welcome.”

“Why? So you can get the money in the meantime?”

One thing becoming readily apparent was that Scootaloo did not trust the motivations of others as far as they related to taking care of her. A gesture of good faith was in order, “If you really think that I am extending you an invitation in order to make some sort of profit then I shall offer you this; I will take any money Foal Services sends me and promptly deposit it into a bank account. Every few months you can pick a charity as the beneficiary of your largess. The donation will be made in your name and you can even accompany me on it’s delivery, so you can be sure that it isn’t a ruse. None of it will do me the least bit of good, except for the warm feeling of helping somepony.”

Scootaloo considered the offer and couldn’t immediately see any ulterior motives to that plan. Rarity did admit that she would get some sense of satisfaction from donating the money to charity, but that didn’t seem like enough to prompt anypony to take her in. It appeared that Rarity was offering her a place at Carousel Boutique, if only to please her sister. It was a good enough reason for Scootaloo to play along, at least until she learned what Rarity really wanted, or until her new host grew tired of having her around like everypony else. If nothing else, it would buy her at least a few more weeks with Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom.

“What about Sweetie Belle?” If Sweetie was going to get mad about her moving in with her sister then it wasn’t worth it. Sweetie Belle often complained that her sister was too busy with other ponies to spend time with her, so if she was going to be another reason that Rarity ignored Sweetie Belle, Scootaloo reasoned it would be better to leave now than to make Sweetie Belle unhappy later.

“What about her?” Rarity asked, unsure of what Scootaloo was hinting at.

“Have you asked her how she’s going to feel about this?”

“I imagine she’ll be positively delighted that you’re not leaving.”

Scootaloo thought carefully about what was happening. So far Rarity had quickly placated two of her immediate concerns. She knew that eventually Rarity would kick her out but at least they had gotten off to a decent start. “I’m not calling you mom,” she said, determined to make it appear as though she would accept the offer only on her own terms.

But if Rarity was put off, she certainly didn’t show it. She simply smiled at the request. “I wouldn’t dream of asking you to. Could I be so bold as to suggest you call me Rarity? ‘You there’ seems just a tad uncouth.”

The faintest hint of a smile crossed Scootaloo’s otherwise troubled face. “Can I stay there tonight? I don’t like it here,” she asked rather tentatively. It was the first real instance of vulnerability that Scootaloo had been willing to share, and Rarity jumped at the chance to capitalize.

Rarity didn’t necessarily mean to acquire a houseguest so suddenly but she didn’t want to risk what little goodwill Scootaloo was willing to offer. In for a piece, in for a bit. “Of course. Why don’t you pack what you’ll need for the next few days, and we can come get the rest of your things later.”

Scootaloo nodded and set about refining her packing choices, and Rarity went downstairs to inform Aurora that Scootaloo would be leaving sooner than expected.

Aurora met Rarity's information with some resistance. “I may be relinquishing my role as her foster mother, but until it’s official I’m still her guardian, I can’t just let some random pony off the streets take her home,” she replied after Rarity had informed her of Scootaloo’s desire to spend the night at the boutique.

“I am not some random pony.” Rarity emphasized the last words with a particular brand of disgust as though she could be reduced to a mere common denominator. “I am the sister of one of her best friends. My name is Rarity Belle and I live at the Carousel Boutique. I am close friends with Princess Twilight Sparkle, and I am the bearer of the Element of Generosity.” Rarity hated to use her status to gain special treatment, as though she somehow wasn't good enough without her element; but she also wasn't above it, and this seemed like an excellent time to tout her credentials. “I give my word that nothing will happen to her and I will go to Foal Services in the morning to take care of whatever paperwork I may need to. Just think of it as letting her go to a sleepover.”

Aurora considered the request and had to admit that it seemed reasonable. If something did happen to Scootaloo, she knew who would be responsible. Additionally, since she was preparing for Scootaloo to move anyway, her absence had already been prepared for. As she was about to respond, Scootaloo came bounding down the stairs, suitcase and scooter in tow. It seemed as though this was happening one way or another. Rather than address Rarity, she directed her remarks toward the little filly who she hadn’t really gotten a chance to know.

“I’m sorry that this didn’t work out, Scootaloo. I wish you all the best with your new home.”

“Whatever,” Scootaloo muttered as she walked out the door. The house behind her she began trotting away toward Carousel Boutique, Rarity following close behind her.

Author's Notes:

Thanks for reading; this is a bit of an experiment.

I like Scootalove and Scootadopt stories, and I’ve read a lot of them. There are of course a bunch of RD adopts Scoots, and Twilight adopts Scoots and Twidash Scootadopts. Fluttershy sometimes adopts Scoots, even though it’s often the case in those that ‘Shy is Scoots birth Mother. I’ve seen Pinkie and AJ try their hand at it.

I’ve read fics where Celestia, Luna and Discord each adopt her, likewise for Lyra and Bon Bon and Vinyl and Octavia. Cheerilee and Nurse Redheart have on rare occasions filled the role of mother for Scootaloo as have various Wonderbolts. I’ve seen OC’s adopt Scoots and there’s even a few where Scoots is taken in by changelings

But I’ve never read one where Rarity adopts Scootaloo, and so I asked myself why? Turns out the answer is kind of obvious, Rarity already has a sister so she doesn’t need another one. Of all the Mane six, Scootaloo has the least in common with my favorite pony, so an idea for a fic where, say Rarity and Scoots bond over making dresses would require challenging what we know about Scoots (I read a fic where Scootaloo confesses out of the blue that she’s actually really girly (authors words not mine), and it made me angry). Or in the other direction where Rarity becomes the radical thrill seeking pony Scootaloo might like would be way ooc for Rarity. Neither of those sat well with me either.

I wanted to try a Scootadopt with Rarity that didn’t require major ooc-ness from one of the principal characters, so I began to think how it might pass that Rarity becomes Scootaloo’s caregiver and this is what I came up with.

Fickle Hearts

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A short walk later, the unlikely pair was at the Carousel Boutique dress shop that doubled as Rarity’s house. Rarity led Scootaloo upstairs to her guest room, which mainly functioned as Sweetie Belle’s home away from home. Not that Scootaloo needed a guide; she had been to The Carousel Boutique enough to know where everything was anyway.

“Well, here we are,” Rarity announced with a smile as she opened the door. “I know it may be a bit frilly for your taste, but if you’d like, we can get some new bed dressings over the weekend, something a bit more rustic than hearts and flowers perhaps?”

Scootaloo took a quick look around the familiar lodgings. “Whatever,” she muttered.

Clearly, Scootaloo is not in a very talkative mood, though I suppose that’s understandable. “I‘m going shopping tomorrow, what do you think you might like to eat over the next few days?” Rarity asked, hoping to do what she could to make Scootaloo’s stay more comfortable.

Scootaloo looked up sharply. “Look, I don’t need anypony to take care of me. Just give me a place to sleep and some food and I’ll stay out of your way and tell Sweetie Belle you’re being nice to me so that she’ll think she has ‘the best big sister ever’.” Scootaloo’s derision at the last phrase removed the last remnants of doubt that Rarity had concerning Scootaloo’s mindset about family.

Aware that Scootaloo was undoubtedly a little tattered by the whirlwind of events Rarity's first instinct was to just back off, however given Scootaloo’s responses back at her foster house, she reasoned that perhaps a bit of a hard sell might be productive. “Scootaloo, I am trying to help you,” Rarity said sharply, in a tone she reserved for Sweetie Belle and unruly vendors. “I don’t expect you to be grateful; I don’t even expect your appreciation. What I would like, is if you could not make it more difficult than it has to be. Now, unless you want to get on a train to Baltimare, you are going to be staying here for at least a few days.” Rarity paused so that Scootaloo could properly process that those were, in fact, her two options. “I pride myself on being a good hostess, so if you would be so kind as to enlighten me about what you might like to eat, I won’t have to buy every single item at the market trying to discern the key to your fickle heart!”

Scootaloo just scowled at her and Rarity got the distinct impression that Scootaloo was used to standoffs. Her experiences arguing with Rainbow Dash taught her that winning one with a pony as strong willed as Scootaloo was a futile proposition so she opted for a softer approach again. “As long as you don’t expect to subsist on blood orchids and tiger lilies, I would be perfectly happy to pick up something you would enjoy,” Rarity offered gently.

Scootaloo flicked her tail back and forth and stared at the ground. “I like oatmeal or pancakes for breakfast,” she said, addressing her remarks to the carpeted floor more than to Rarity. “I like peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and daisies. I don’t like spaghetti; everypony is always trying to give me spaghetti. I like barley soup though,” she muttered just loud enough for Rarity to hear her.

Rarity smiled warmly, hoping to put Scootaloo at least a little more at ease. “Thank you Scootaloo. Barley soup is one of my favorites too.” She was actually fairly neutral on the subject of barley soup, but building some common ground seemed worth eating bland, grainy mush for a few meals. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

“I’m fine,” Scootaloo said just a little too quickly.

“Very well, I promised Sweetie Belle I would go visit her. Are you going to be okay here by yourself for an hour?”

“You trust me enough to leave me alone?” Scootaloo asked, surprised, despite her familiarity with Rarity.

Rarity playfully brought a hoof to her chin and pretended to ponder the thought, “I suppose you could abscond with my cash box, but I closed early today so I’m afraid it’s rather bereft at the moment,” she said with a wry grin.

“I wouldn’t do that!” Scootaloo snapped as she clenched her shoulders and instinctively arched her back.

Rarity lifted a hoof in an apologetic gesture. “It was a joke, dear. Yes, I trust you enough to leave you alone for an hour.”

Scootaloo slowly released the tension she had been holding in her shoulders, but still regarded Rarity with suspicion. She snorted a low “hmph” and turned her attention to unpacking what few things she brought with her.

Okay, no more joking with Scootaloo. Rarity turned to leave the young filly alone in her temporary lodgings, when she heard a small voice behind her.

“Thanks for letting me stay here. I don’t want to move to Baltimare,” the voice said quickly and quietly.

Rarity turned around so she could be sure Scootaloo registered her response. “You are most welcome, Scootaloo.”

Rarity trotted over to her parent’s house, Scootaloo’s apparently fluid family situation causing her to reflect on her own. They weren’t an ideal family, when Rarity was younger she often wished her parents would be more refined and upscale. As she grew older though she learned to appreciate her parents for who they were, kind hearted supportive ponies, rather than what they were not. Differences aside, she couldn’t imagine her life without them.

“Hello, mother,” she said as she walked through the door to find her mother reading a book on the couch.

Rarity’s childhood home was an almost perfectly average two story bungalow located just off the main drag of Ponyville. If it were any other pony’s house, she would have described the décor as garish and dreadful, with red and yellow floral drapes that clashed with the two toned bluish green carpet, accented by mismatched furniture. But it wasn’t any pony’s house; it was her parents house, and that meant the clashing colors and lack of any guiding principle in selecting furniture only served to make the place feel more homely. The ponies that lived here weren’t concerned about how guests viewed their living room; they were concerned with letting those guests know that they were welcome.

“Rarity!” her mom exclaimed, promptly shutting her book and practically leaping off the couch to give her eldest daughter a hug. “What brings you by? Is everything okay?” her mother asked, growing more panicked by the second.

Rarity gave her mom a reassuring squeeze. “Everything’s fine, Mom, I told Sweetie Belle I would come by to see her. Is she here?”

“Oh, so you know what’s bothering her? She seemed so upset when came home but all she would say is that she didn’t want to talk about it. She should be in her room.”

“Thanks Mom. Where’s Daddy this evening?”

“Bowling League is on Wednesday nights,” her mom replied with a somewhat apologetic smile.

“Of course, how silly of me to forget.”

Rarity trotted upstairs and gently knocked on the door to her sister’s room. Sweetie Belle opened it and greeted Rarity with hopeful, if still puffy red eyes. She looked up expectantly at her older sister, her lower lip quivering.

Rarity broke the silence quickly. “Scootaloo is not moving to Baltimare, for the time being anyway.”

Sweetie Belle’s previous distress started to fade away as she stared in awe. “How’d you do that?”

“I am going to try to find somewhere for her to stay in Ponyville, and until I do, she can stay with me.” As Rarity verbalized her plan, it occurred to her that she actually had no clue how she would go about finding Scootaloo a permanent home; but the sensation of her sister hugging her forelegs quickly relegated that to a secondary concern.

“Thankyouthanyouthankyou, you’re the best sister ever! I promise to make you breakfast everyday for a year!”

Rarity fought back her immediate instinct to recoil in horror at the thought of eating burnt cereal for a year, (how anypony could possibly burn cereal was a conundrum she had pondered more than once.)

“That’s really not necessary,” she replied, patting Sweetie Belle on the back.

“But you’re helping Scootaloo. She’s my friend, I wanna help too!”

“I understand Sweetie, Scootaloo is…well Scootaloo’s going through a tough time right now, she could use a good friend.”

Sweetie Belle contemplated what her sister could possibly mean by that last statement. “I already am her friend…but maybe I could be extra friendly to her?”

“I’m sure she would appreciate that very much, dear.”

Sweetie Belle looked up again, this time with unmitigated gratitude. “Thank you, Rarity,” she whispered, giving her sister another hug. Though she didn’t say anything, Sweetie knew that taking in a houseguest was a bigger imposition than her sister let on. She also knew that the only reason Rarity had done it was out of consideration for her feelings, which meant that gratitude was the least she owed her sister.

After a quick chat with her mother, leaving out the information about her new houseguest, Rarity returned home emotionally drained; and if she felt this raw she could only imagine how Scootaloo felt. She went upstairs with the intent of discovering if Scootaloo needed anything further from her, but as she approached the filly’s room the sound of soft snores told her that Scootaloo had all she required for the time being.

It’s just as well, I suppose. It’s been a very long and exhausting day. Rarity quietly continued down the hallway towards her room, stifling a yawn as she did so. Much had happened and she was still uncertain of what the first full day of Scootaloo’s tenantship would bring. She hoped that Scootaloo would be less standoffish, and more open to communication, but Rarity had a feeling that she would need all of her faculties for tomorrow. If nothing else, her visit to Foal Services would almost certainly require her most polished diplomacy. Though after fulfilling her promise to Sweetie Belle (unexpectedly though the outcome), she herself reasoned that she had earned a good night’s sleep, and could hardly wait to do so.

What's Your Interest in Her?

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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?”

Depends on What?

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After their little talk, Rarity left Scootaloo alone so that she could prepare dinner, but when she got to the kitchen she had the belated realization that she hadn’t ever actually cooked barley soup. She did own a few cookbooks however, mostly for ambiance, and one of them did contain a recipe for “down home barley soup”. Luckily for Rarity, it turned out that making Scootaloo’s favorite meal, or at least one of the few things Scootaloo had admitted to liking, wasn’t particularly hard. After measuring out a two-to-one ratio of barley to water and adding some spices, all that was left was to let the mixture simmer for an hour.

Dinner taken care of, Rarity turned her attention back to her work. As she stitched together a few more dresses, it began to occur to her just how much work time she had already lost to dealing with Scootaloo’s situation. She had gotten involved a mere twenty four hours ago and already she was more behind in her work then she preferred.

But Scootaloo was important, and not just because of her relationship with Sweetie Belle. She was a living breathing filly who had a rough start of life and it was impossible for Rarity not to feel sympathy for her. She couldn’t really empathize with the situation, but she could imagine what it might be like to feel as though you weren’t wanted anywhere, and that thought made her heart ache.

Before she could finish the order she was working on a shrill “ding” from her kitchen timer informed her that it was time to check on her soup. She opened the pot, gave it a quick stir and tasted it. It tasted like the other few bowls of barley soup she had in her life, which meant that she still found it bland and tasteless. After adding a final dash of salt she declared it finished and called Scootaloo down for dinner.

Scootaloo came down the stairs slowly. She looked better than she was an hour ago, her mane still a little damp from what Rarity guessed was a hot shower and her eyes no longer red, but her expression was still reading as neutral at best.

The pair sat down at the table and Rarity served them each a bowl of her culinary creation. Scootaloo looked skeptically at the bowl in front of her and poked at her soup before slowly lifting a spoon to her mouth. She took a tentative lick, her tongue briefly darting out from behind her teeth, before blowing on it and shoving the whole spoon in her mouth.

Rarity winced as she studied Scootaloo’s face, hoping for a clue as to her opinion. “Not bad, it could use more pepper,” Scootaloo said with a small shrug of her shoulders. Rarity raised an eyebrow, unsure if that was high praise or a scathing rebuke. Flustered and confused by Rarity’s reaction she amended her previous statement quickly. “I mean umm, thank you.”

Scootaloo let out a painful sounding sigh, “I don’t mean to have bad manners, I just say things without thinking, I don’t know why. The soup is great, really!” Scootaloo ate another large spoonful and tried to smile.

Rarity couldn’t help but laugh at Scootaloo’s obvious lie. “It’s okay Scootaloo; I think it is important for us to be honest with each other. For starters I don’t actually like barley soup.”

“But you said it was one of your favorites!” Scootaloo shrieked.

Rarity kept her voice level in response to Scootaloo’s escalation. “Yes, I did. You seemed upset and I thought it was important to establish some common ground, so I told you I liked barley soup in the hopes that you might feel a connection with me.”

Rarity’s frank admission left Scootaloo shocked, she had never heard an adult admitting to lying so readily before and she had certainly never heard them justify it in such an open way. Unable to respond she turned her attention back to dinner. The two continued their meal in relative silence, Scootaloo not knowing what to say and Rarity not wanting to risk setting off another tantrum.

As Scootaloo finished her soup Rarity took advantage of the lack of banter to steer the conversation down the path she wanted. “I owe you an apology, dear. It was…uncouth of me to broach the subject of my visit with Autumn today without giving you at least a moments warning.”

Scootaloo nodded cautiously, her body going completely still as she drew in a sharp breath. Only the slight twitching of her ears betrayed any emotion as she waited for the next part of Rarity’s sentence. “But we do need to talk about your living situation,” Rarity finished, as gently as she could, and waited for Scootaloo to indicate that she was ready to talk.

Scootaloo’s face grew red and Rarity mentally prepared herself for a verbal onslaught again, but Scootaloo didn’t say anything. She just sat there, her expression growing increasingly despondent. From Rarity’s perspective it appeared as though Scootaloo was arguing with herself, Rarity couldn’t imagine exactly what the content of Scootaloo’s debate might be but she fervently hoped that she had an advocate somewhere in there. Eventually Scootaloo spoke again, “Fine. What do we need to talk about?” she said sadly.

“Well, for starters he’s agreed to let you stay here until we can find a home for you in Ponyville.” Rarity’s summation wasn’t exactly true, but it was close enough.

Scootaloo smiled, though her eyes betrayed her true emotions. “Great. What else do we need talk about?”

“This is all rather new to me, perhaps you can tell me a little bit about the process?”

Scootaloo shrugged. “It depends.”

Rarity suppressed her growing frustration. At some point Scootaloo would have to be more expressive, but for now she hadn’t shut down, so Rarity pressed onward. “Depends on what?”

“Well, sometimes when there’s a family that might want to adopt me, Autumn takes me to the Foal Services office and introduces us. There’s a room with some games and some coloring books and stuff and we just kinda hang out for an hour or so.” Scootaloo spoke softly, her eyes darting around the room, never settling on the same spot for more than a few seconds.

“Hang out?”

“Yeah, no one really talks about adoption. Autumn says it’s just so they can get to know me and I can get to know them.”

“I see.”

“Then later, I guess if they like me, we spend another afternoon together, this time at like a park or something. After that visit Autumn asks how’d I feel about living with them. I usually say it’d be fine, it’s not like I have ponies lining up to take me in.”

Rarity placed a hoof on Scootaloo’s shoulder. “And how do you feel about all that?”

The gesture stirred something within the little filly. For the first time Scootaloo looked directly at the mare talking to her. “I don’t really like it. I always feel like they're always judging me, like if I do something wrong they won’t want me. I shouldn’t have to audition to be part of a family!” Scootaloo said, her voice growing louder. She took a deep breath and shook her head, when she finished she seemed calmer, though sad again. “It’d be different if I could fly,” Scootaloo said wistfully.

Unsure of exactly what Scootaloo could mean, Rarity asked for some clarification. “Why do you say that, dear?”

“If I could fly Rainbow Dash would adopt me,” Scootaloo replied without a trace of sarcasm.

The statement was delivered so sincerely, as though Scootaloo was reporting that the sky was blue, that it took all of Rarity’s self control to pretend to agree with her, lest she radically alter Scootaloo’s world view for the worst. “I see. Have you talked to her about this?”

“Well no,” Scootaloo admitted. “But that has to be the reason she hasn’t, isn’t it? I mean, she lives in a cloud house, it’d be unfair of me to expect her to move, but if I could fly then I could live in the cloud house with her. She already said we were sisters.”

Rarity was again unsure how to respond, but she did make a mental note to have a very serious talk with her friend later. “You said sometimes dear, what happens the other times?” she asked, grateful for the chance to change topics.

“Oh, sometimes Autumn just tells me that I’m going to move. That’s how I ended up at Mrs. Hoofington’s, and what happened with the family in Baltimare. I don’t really know why some families meet with me first and some don’t.”

Rarity wanted to ask more questions, but decided to err against turning this into some sort of interrogation. Scootaloo was being as open and honest as she had ever seen, she didn’t want to risk shutting that down, lest she lose any progress she had made. “Well, you’re living here now, and if we are going to find you a home in Ponyville, you should have a say in where you live.”

Scootaloo shrugged again, “It won’t make a difference anyway.”

Rarity was about to interject when she remembered the promise she had made barely an hour ago. It seemed for the time being Scootaloo was entitled to her fatalistic worldview. Before she could say anything, Scootaloo spoke up.

“I still shouldn’t have to help out in your dress shop and-”

Rarity held up a hoof, “We can talk about all that later. Can you trust me enough to believe me when I tell you that I’ll try and make your stay here-?” Enjoyable? That wasn’t the right word; Scootaloo wasn’t here for some kind of sleepover. Agreeable? That seemed too formal. Rarity finally settled on “comfortable,” deciding that it struck an appropriate balance.

Scootaloo looked down at the remnants of her soup and mentally reviewed everything that had happened in the last twenty four hours. Rarity had been nicer to her than she thought she deserved, and other than lying about the barley soup, hadn’t given any indication that she had some sort of ulterior motives for any of her actions. “Okay,” she said quietly. Another pause later, “If there’s nothing else I think I’ll go hang out in Sweetie’s room for a while,” she said a little louder.

Scootaloo pushed herself away from the table and went upstairs, leaving Rarity alone with some dishes and a still unfinished dress order.

The order wasn’t complicated, but it was large. Rarity had agreed to design and sew the gowns for the touring production of How to Grow a Tulip. The old world, rustic setting of the play meant that all of the dresses were spartan and unadorned, but the cast numbered in the low twenties and a little more than half of them were females. That meant Rarity had to design and sew fourteen dresses, and even though most of the dresses where only four pieces of cloth sewn together, with only a ribbon cinched around the middle, the entire order was extremely time consuming. By the time Rarity sealed up the last box she was so tired she could barely carry herself up the stairs to reach her own bed. But when she reached the top she heard a faint whimpering coming from Scootaloo’s room.

She opened the door to find Scootaloo wide awake, sitting upright in her bed, her mane damp with sweat. “It’s late, you should be asleep,” Rarity said.

“So should you,” Scootaloo shot back.

“Believe me dear, I would like nothing else; but since I’m here, is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine. I just have trouble falling asleep sometimes.”

It didn’t take a pony of with Rarity’s pony-reading skills to see that Scootaloo both was anything but fine. Her breathing was noticeably shallow and though it was hard to see clearly in the moonlit room Rarity would swear that she looked pale. Remembering her earlier promise Rarity didn’t press for answers. Instead she simply walked over to the side of the bed and sat down on her haunches, “Sweetie Belle has trouble getting to sleep sometimes. Would you like me to do what I do for her?” she asked gently.

Scootaloo cocked her head and nodded, more out of curiosity than anything else.

Rarity lit up her horn and a faint blue glow began to envelop Scootaloo; she instinctively started to struggle but quickly realized that the tingling warmth she felt was not dangerous, rather it felt like she was being gently swathed in a soft blanket.

Rarity took notice of Scootaloo’s bewilderment and offered a brief explanation. “It’s a modification of the spell I use to get wrinkles out of delicate silk.”

“You’re ironing me?!”

“Not really, no. I can stop, if you’d prefer?

Scootaloo shook her head, too busy enjoying the sensation to protest further. Beyond feeling physically pleasurable, her skin enjoying the dual sensations of both softness and warmness, it was hard for Scootaloo to ignore the fact that there was another pony doing something to make her feel better. And while most of Scootaloo’s thoughts screamed that none of this was real, Rarity was just wanted to put Scootaloo to sleep so she could enjoy her own rest; there was small dissenting opinion that dared to suggest that perhaps Rarity did care about her beyond just Sweetie’s feelings.

Scootaloo shut her eyes, and for a brief moment imagined that this is what it must be like to have somepony actually love you. Her imagination took her back to some very vague memories from before she was abandoned for the second time. Her mother would swaddle her in a blanket and gently rock her back and forth. It all happened when she was too young to remember, but she did have a faint notion of that feeling of being safe and loved, it felt a little like this.

As Scootaloo fought between the reality she wanted and the reality she knew existed, Rarity began to sing in a low timbre, much less shrill than her usual speaking voice.

I know a little filly
I see her every day
And though it may sound silly
She keeps the night away

Cause when she cries
it’s not some ornamental sigh
and when she breathes
it brings the world to its knees

But when she smiles
It’s when she smiles

Now she’s the light I long for
She’s the light I see
Long as the moon rises
I’ll have dreams of Scootaloo

“That doesn’t rhyme,” Scootaloo said, letting out a yawn and snuggling more firmly under the covers, the combination of Rarity’s spell and the gentle lullaby alleviating some of her previous stress.

“Well, when mother sang it, the line was dreams of Rarity,” Rarity replied, stroking Scootaloo’s mane gently.

Scootaloo instinctively leaned into Rarity's hoof and shut her eyes, finally giving into her exhaustion, and maybe a little bit of her fantasy.

Which is it?

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Thanks to Rarity’s lullaby, Scootaloo quickly fell into a deep slumber. Even so Rarity remained in the room long after it was clear that the orange filly was temporarily at peace. As she watched Scootaloo sleep, she recalled the last time she had stood in this very room watching a different little filly sleep soundly.

It had been a few years ago and Sweetie Belle was staying over for the first time since she had moved out of her parents house. Their parents had gone on a cruise and Sweetie Belle was overly excited about spending an entire week with her favorite big sister. Naturally, as soon as she unpacked she came down with a terrible case of colic. It was fairly manageable during the day, but the persistent cough and chest ache had left Sweetie Belle unable to sleep for more than a few hours at a time.

Sweetie had done her best to put on a brave face, but Rarity winced emphatically every time Sweetie was overcome by another coughing fit that left her writhing in pain. Eventually after many applications of vapor rub and honey sweetened tea, Sweetie Belle had drifted off to sleep but Rarity had spent that entire night watching over her sister in a sort of vigil, as though her presence could ward off further suffering.

And here she was again, standing guard under the delusion that her mere presence meant something to an unconscious filly. Eventually she realized that the only thing that was accomplished by her standing at the foot of Scootaloo’s bed was that she would be tired tomorrow, so she pulled a blanket up over the filly’s shoulders and went to her own room to try and salvage what little sleep she could.

The next morning Rarity poured herself an extra large cup of coffee with a double shot of espresso, but even that wasn’t enough to completely nullify the effect of her restless night. As she haphazardly prepared some cereal, she took note of Scootaloo coming down the stairs.

The orange filly looked fine, as far as she could tell, and for better or worse she didn’t mention anything about last night’s episode. She did however opt to greet Rarity with a very quiet “Hi” as she reached for her bowl of cereal.

Breakfast was quiet again and Rarity was beginning to think that mealtimes with Scootaloo were unlikely to ever produce the connection she was hoping for, but Scootaloo didn’t seem troubled. Maybe it was just her imagination, but Rarity could swear that the little filly seemed slightly more at home.

Sweetie Belle again came to walk with Scootaloo to school, and after doing the dishes, Rarity was relieved to find herself alone in her dress shop as though it was just another day as Ponyville’s resident fashionista.

She spent the morning working on the preliminary designs for her new winter line. It was early in the fall which was normally a quiet time for her business. The galas and events of Hearths Warming and New Years were too far away for most ponies to think about, and most couples planning on getting married had done so already. There were the occasional back-to-school dresses or Running of the Leaves accessories that some ponies ordered, but for the most part, her revenue came from her off the rack selection, which she needed customers physically in her store in order to sell.

So when she heard the bell above the front entrance chime, she put on a big smile and bounded into the showroom. “Welcome to the Carousel Boutique where- oh, hello Autumn what can I do for you?”

Instead of a mare looking to buy a dress, or perhaps some stallion looking for a gift, in the middle of her showroom stood Scootaloo’s case officer, and from the expression on his face Rarity was willing to bet that he wasn’t here to do any shopping.

Autumn offered a smile and a friendly nod as he saw Rarity. “Remember how I said there’d be home inspections? Well, this is one of them. Is this where Scootaloo will be staying while she’s under your care?”

“It is,” Rarity was about to complain about the lack of forewarning, but it occurred to her that the surprise nature of the visit was most likely intentional. “This is my boutique; through that hallway is the kitchen and dining room. Upstairs is Scootaloo’s bedroom and bathroom, I trust you have no need to violate my privacy by rifling through my bedroom.”

Autumn shook his head, “No, that won’t be necessary.” He began to leave the showroom and begin his inspection, but stopped when he realized Rarity wasn’t following him.

“Don’t you want to monitor my inspection? Most ponies like to look over my shoulder.”

“I have nothing to hide and a lot of work to do. You strike me as a gentlecolt, can I assume you won’t make a mess?”

“Everything will be exactly as you left it.” Autumn went into the kitchen and Rarity continued sewing her sequins on the gown she was working on. Only a few minutes passed before Autumn walked back into the showroom.

Rarity lowered the needle and set the dress back on its mannequin. She looked up with a look of both surprise and concern that the inspection was over so quickly. “You found a problem already?”

“Quite the opposite in fact. I’ve seen all I need to.” Rarity nodded cautiously and waited for him to render his verdict. “I spoke to Scootaloo this morning and she said nothing but good things, or at least she didn’t say anything bad. Furthermore, you appeared quite willing to give me free reign of the house, suggesting that you are, in fact, not hiding anything. Lastly, your kitchen appears spotless.”

“Thank you?” Rarity said, not quite sure what to make of the last bit of praise.

Autumn smiled at the confusion. “I’ve been doing this awhile, bad parents usually have dirty kitchens. Not always, and there are plenty of wonderful parents who just don’t like doing the dishes. But your kitchen looks like it’s out of a catalogue and your fridge appears well stocked. That combined with Scootaloo’s testimony tells me I probably don’t have to worry about you.”

“So you’ll name me her guardian and she can stay in Ponyville?”

“I’ll start the process and as long as you’re okay with her living under your roof I’ll continue to look for a family in town as a permanent option.”

Rarity felt a small measure of relief wash over her, one minor obstacle down, multiple larger ones still to go.“Wonderful, what happens now?”

“What do you mean?”

“I spoke with Scootaloo last night about how sometimes she meets with ponies who might want to adopt her and sometimes she doesn’t. I was hoping you might clarify further.”

“Ideally we try and find a good match for any foal looking to be adopted; scheduled play time helps us do that. But when a family decides it’s not going to work out we feel it’s best to remove the foal from the home as quickly as possible, less lingering negative emotions that way.”

“So when she moved to Mrs. Hoofington’s?”

“The family she was with decided that she just wasn’t going to be happy there. Mrs. Hoofington takes in a lot of troubled foals. It seemed like a good idea.”

Rarity considered what she just learned and added it to everything she already knew. There were more than a few things that she couldn’t quite makes sense of. “If I may be so bold,” Rarity paused for a moment before deciding that there was no polite way to ask her next question. “You certainly don’t seem unsympathetic, and Scootaloo may be a bit closed off, but she’s not a bad filly. Why haven’t you been able to find a home for her?”

If Autumn was offended by Rarity’s candor he didn’t show it. “I let any prospective parent know that Scootaloo has some emotional trouble, it’s fairly common in fillies her age who are up for adoption. One of the reasons for the observational visits is so I can gauge how they handle that. I think ponies are expecting her to be a little “closed off” at first, what causes them to reconsider is that six months later she’s still closed off.”

“Well then they should be more patient!” Rarity barked, unintentionally raising both the volume and pitch of her voice.

Autumn shook his head. “You misunderstand me. I don’t think they give her up because they're frustrated with her. I think they genuinely want her to be happy, and since it seems clear that she won’t be happy in their home they decide it would be best for her to try somewhere else, painful as that may be for everyone.”

Rarity was forced to admit she could empathize with that point of view, she had only lived with Scootaloo for a day and already she found herself hoping the familiar mantra of “it gets better” was true. After six months if it wasn’t getting better would she really be able to continue?

And would it be fair to Scootaloo to keep trying? Despite the filly’s pessimistic worldview, Rarity refused to believe that happiness was some sort of pipe dream for her. And that meant that somewhere in Equestria existed a warm loving home where Scootaloo could find some measure of peace and belonging. But those were questions for another time, right now the present seemed more important than a distant hypothetical future.“Have you spoken with Scootaloo about all this?”

“I’ve tried to. I think, after everything she’s been through, she has a hard time believing that anypony could care about her, so when her foster parents ask if she wants to try somewhere else she interprets that as them wanting to get rid of her.”

“Poor thing,” Rarity whispered softly.

“Yeah,” Autumn replied using a similar cadence. The two ponies just stood there, neither one of them sure what to say next. “I have other visits I need to make today. I’ll check in with you two later, and well, I guess you know where my office is if you need anything,” Autumn offered by way of trying to move the conversation forward.

Autumn left and as Rarity closed the door behind him she was again hit with the oppressive weight of the undertaking she had agreed to. A very large part of her told her to grab the nearest carton of chocolate ice cream and hide under her down duvet for the rest of the day; and she would have done so if not for the fact that her appointment book told her that she had a fitting at two o’clock. She spent the next few hours working on a few dresses and selling the occasional off the rack item, but Scootaloo's situation was always in the back of her mind. She was about to drag herself out of the door, when she remembered that she had a house guest; so she wrote Scootaloo a brief note, placed it on the table in her foyer, and then dragged herself to a house call.

Rarity seldom second guessed her choice of profession. She adored fashion and her work generally garnered praise. But if there was one aspect of her job that she wished she could delegate to another pony it was fitting sessions. As a creative pony who had to conform her idea’s to her clients wishes she was used to taking direction, even when that direction was so obviously a terrible idea. There were polite ways of gently letting a client know that despite how much they loved mauve it simply did not go with turquoise and no amount of flowers was going to change that.

But despite all her best smiles and euphemisms she simply hadn’t found a tactful way of letting a client know that they had not dropped the four dress sizes they were planning on. Rarity wasn’t superficial, she believed that every pony was beautiful, and in her own protest against the superficial nature of the fashion industry her dresses were always modeled by normal looking ponies, not waif thin runway models. But when a client demanded that she make a size four dress despite their clearly being a size six, that’s when she ran into problems.

Her fitting was with a golden coated mare named Honey Pie (no relation to Pinkie). And most of the time Rarity had a perfectly wonderful relationship with her. She was sweet, as her name suggested, and always paid her bill on time; but she was always trying the latest fad diet, swearing this one was going to be the one that stuck.

And that meant that every time she ordered a custom dress Rarity would take her measurements and Honey would insist that Rarity take a few inches off everywhere so that when the dress was ready in a couple months it would fit the new Honey Pie perfectly. Then a couple months would roll around and Honey Pie would either find a dress that was too small for her or she would yell at Rarity for not following her instructions.

Rarity had considered lying, telling her that the size eight dress she was wearing really was a size four, but being dishonest with a customer was exactly the kind of word of mouth Rarity didn’t need for her Boutique. Her prices were already high enough that customers figured they were paying extra for the service.

So after another fitting session of Honey politely seething that Rarity’s measurements must be wrong because there was simply no way she was the same size she was last time, Rarity returned home ready to reconsider if maybe her time as a weather pony really wasn’t all that bad.

She opened her door and headed straight for her kitchen only to find cupcake wrappers strewn about, and a half empty box of cupcakes sitting on her kitchen table. The telltale sounds of hooves on tile coming from upstairs told Rarity that Scootaloo was most likely upstairs.

“Would you like to explain to me why there are cupcake wrappers all over my kitchen Scootaloo?” Rarity asked as she confronted the orange filly, unable to mask her annoyance.

“I didn’t know where you were and I wanted a cupcake. Pinkie said I could have the whole box.”

“Remind me to thank her,” Rarity muttered under her breath. “I left you a note in the foyer,” she said louder and directed toward Scootaloo.

“I didn’t know that’s where you left notes. Most ponies put them on the fridge,” Scootaloo said with a shrug.

Rarity couldn’t quite argue with that logic, but it did raise an important point; Scootaloo was clearly going to have to get settled in, and that meant that things like where Rarity left notes and other details would need to be ironed out. “I think now would be a good time to discuss the particulars of your living here,” Rarity said flatly.

“I don’t want to do chores around the shop,” Scootaloo quickly responded.

“Yes, you seem quite insistent about that particular point,” Rarity said, her annoyance at hearing the same thing three times creeping into her voice. She took a breath and reminded herself that Scootaloo was not the pony who had spent the past hour and half disparaging her measuring skills. “The Boutique is my shop, you don’t have to have anything to do with it if you don’t want to. If you would like to learn more about fashion I’d be delighted to teach you.” Scootaloo scrunched her nose and shook her head and Rarity just smiled at the reaction, the unintended humor causing her to regain a little more control. “Very well then. The Boutique is a working business however, when I have clients over I expect you to conduct yourself in a civil manner, and I expect you to stay out of my parlor room when I’m not home, there’s nothing in there but fabric and sketches anyway. Does that sound agreeable to you?”

Scootaloo shrugged, “Fine with me. And now you’re going to tell me that I need to do the dishes and keep my room clean or you’ll send me away, right?”

Rarity was too haggard to be diplomatic, and in a way it helped her connect with the filly in front of her. Scootaloo had a habit of speaking without any internal filter, and with her own filter temporarily disabled the two ponies could communicate on the same level. “No. I promised you a place to stay until you find a more permanent option and I am a mare of my word. Why are you so adamant about not doing chores?”

Rarity’s words struck a nerve because as soon as she heard them, Scootaloo flared her wings out and arched her back. “I don’t mind doing chores! I mind ponies only keeping me around so that I’ll do the dishes for them!” Scootaloo yelled, unaware that her heightened emotional state brought about an increase in her volume.

“Scootaloo, nopony cares if you do the dishes! What they want is for you to make some sort of an effort!” Rarity shrieked back at her.

Scootaloo fixed Rarity with a stare and it was clear that this was a watershed moment for the filly. “So which is it? You either want me to do the dishes or you don’t care?” Scootaloo asked through gritted teeth, the tension in the room making it clear that there was a right answer to the question, from Scootaloo’s perspective anyway.

Rarity took a deep breath, she wasn’t much calmer afterwards, but her voice was more even. “Which answer would you like me to give?” She said in a clipped cadence that even an emotional Scootaloo recognized as being touched with anger just waiting to erupt. Scootaloo just kept her stare unforgivingly locked on her, the pause giving Rarity time to push down the more volatile aspects of her temper. When she spoke again her voice was still firm, but it lacked the hostility of the previous statement “I suspect if I tell you I expect you to do the dishes you will take that as proof that I am only letting you stay here so that can I reap some sort of imaginary benefit. Of course if I tell you that you’re welcome here regardless of your attitude you’ll use that as an excuse to see just how far you can push me because it couldn’t possibly be true. So, to borrow a phrase from poker, I refuse to draw against a made hoof.”

Scootaloo wasn’t really sure what that last phrase meant, but one thing Rarity said did jump out at her. “You play cards?”

Scootaloo’s surprising question had the effect of momentarily disarming Rarity’s irritation. “Of course dear, there is much business to be had in exclusive card games in Manehattan.” Rarity chuckled softly and faux dramatically placed her back hoof on her forehead. . “And most stallions are only too willing to invite the poor little mare from Ponyville who clearly doesn’t realize what she’s getting into,” Rarity finished with a wry grin.

Scootaloo giggled “That’s actually kind of cool,” Scootaloo said before she burst out laughing at the idea of smug Stall Street stallions watching in horror as Rarity politely collected her winnings.

Scootaloo’s laugh, filled with childish joy, was infectious and Rarity couldn’t help but to join in. “If you’re interested I could teach you,” Rarity said after the laughter had died down, the previous tension having all but dissipated.

“Maybe that’d be okay.” Scootaloo looked down at the floor. “And maybe I could sort of do some dishes occasionally.”

Look out the Window

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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.

Why not?

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Despite sleeping in for a good hour later than she was accustomed to, Rarity still woke up groggy. She was also, apparently, awake before Scootaloo, judging by the lack of sound coming from upstairs, or anywhere else for that matter.

The boutique was usually quiet on Saturday mornings, and today was no exception. Rarity only opened for a few hours on Saturday afternoon and even then she had been known to forgo that business opportunity. Early in her career, she made it a point to be open as much as possible in an effort to attract anypony she could, often waking up at the crack of dawn. But now that she had an established clientele, she no longer felt the pressure to get everypony possible to walk through her door. Her taking Saturday mornings off was a measure of pride, a symbol that she did enough business to be able to afford to close when she wanted to.

In her solitude Rarity thought hard about last night. There was a lot that was troubling her, but as the memory of Scootaloo crying alone in a darkened room flashed through her mind, the most troubling part was just how incongruous Scootaloo looked in her guest room.

Rarity liked to think of the Carousel Boutique as a bastion of order, in a way. Yes, it could get messy, even chaotic, but it was never random. Her ribbons might end up strewn about the parlour room during the course of designing a dress, but the cinnamon ribbon would never land anywhere near the faded pearl fabric—that would be absurd. As so it should be with Scootaloo; regardless of her mood, she looked out of place surrounded by the floral prints favored by Sweetie Belle. Therefore, Rarity reasoned, her first goal needed to be transforming her guest room into a place where Scootaloo looked like she belonged.

And that shouldn’t be too hard to do, she reasoned. Her guest room was already furnished; it just needed some cosmetic treatment. Rarity prepared some oatmeal for the two of them to eat for breakfast as she contemplated exactly what she envisioned as the new color scheme to her guest room. Of course Scootaloo would have some say, but that didn’t mean Rarity couldn’t lend her own aesthetic viewpoint. Soon, Scootaloo came down the stairs, wearing the same melancholy expression that Rarity was trying fervently to eliminate.

“Good Morning, Scootaloo,” Rarity said with a smile, sliding a bowl of oatmeal over to her guest.

Scootaloo hopped up on a stool near the kitchen counter and corralled Rarity’s offering.“Hi,” she said quietly searching for a spoon.

Rarity levitated a spoon from the silverware drawer and placed it near Scootaloo’s right hoof. “I was thinking that we might pick out some new dressings for your bedroom,” she said as Scootaloo began to eat her breakfast.

Scootaloo stopped eating, instead staring intently at the bowl in front of her. “You don’t have to do that for me, it’s not like I’m staying. The way it is now is fine.”

On one hoof, Scootaloo seemed to be making an effort to be polite; on the other hoof her insistence on being miserable was counterproductive. “That is sweet of you to say. But a pony’s domicile should reflect who they are. For the time being, this is your living space; it should be an expression of who you are. Unless you feel that you are being adequately represented by flowers and hearts.” Scootaloo quickly wrinkled her nose and shook her head, as though the very idea that Sweetie’s choices suggested anything about her was an anathema. Rarity giggled softly.“Then that’s settled. Would you like to come with me?”

“Umm, I was kinda planning on crusading today. Could we go tomorrow?” Scootaloo asked, her cheeks turning a light pink as she asked for the small favor.

“We could.” Rarity was about to suggest that they plan on going shopping tomorrow after lunch when a different thought popped into her head. “Or you could trust me to pick out your dressings for you. I’m thinking something with lightning bolts and rainbows,” Rarity offered cautiously, eager to see if Scootaloo would extend her the courtesy of trusting her judgment.

Scootaloo appeared to consider the offer, looking toward the ceiling. She didn’t seem enthusiastic, but she also didn’t say no. “That might be okay,” she mumbled, before returning to her oatmeal.

It was a reluctantly given, almost insignificant, gesture of trust, but a gesture of trust nonetheless. “Wonderful!” Rarity exclaimed, barely able to suppress her enthusiasm for shopping as well as the small victory she had just won. “And if you really dislike my choices, I’m sure we can return them.”

The idea that she wouldn’t be stuck with whatever choices Rarity made seemed to put Scootaloo more at ease. She didn’t say anything else, but she looked just the tiniest bit happier as she finished her breakfast, or so Rarity thought.

Despite its name, Quills and Sofas sold more than just writing implements and living room furniture. They endeavored to be one-stop shopping for any home furnishing project, and for the most part, they succeeded. While they lacked the individual variety of specialty shops, they made up for it with an impressive selection across all room types. One section was dedicated to filly-appropriate bedroom adornments. That was where Rarity found herself trying to balance her own artistic taste with what little she knew about Scootaloo’s proclivities.

There were lots of bed sets with a rainbow theme, but Scootaloo wasn’t a fan of rainbows—she was a fan of Rainbow Dash, and apparently Equestria’s seamstresses had yet to see fit to sew Rainbow’s multicolored lightning bolt onto any comforters. After some thought, Rarity settled on a Wonderbolts comforter, replete with the Wonderbolts insignia, and some generic unisex sheets that had various modes of transportation on them, including a few scooters. She also picked up a pair of cyan curtains to replace the floral prints currently adorning the windows. Satisfied that she could use what she brought to redecorate her guest room to Scootaloo’s liking, she headed back to the Boutique eager to get started.

Rarity hadn’t gotten more than halfway home when she spotted a familiar multi-hued tail dangling from a cloud. She hadn’t intended to confront Rainbow Dash today, but looking down at her purchases immediately drew her thoughts to both their intended recipient and their purpose. No matter how much she dressed up the Boutique, Scootaloo would never consider it “home,” and that’s what the little filly needed and what Rarity had promised to find her. And whether Rainbow Dash liked it or not, she was undoubtedly Scootaloo’s first choice for the parental figure she craved.

There was simply no sense it putting it off. It wasn’t as though Scootaloo was going to change her mind about wanting to live with Rainbow Dash; and it was equally unlikely that Rainbow Dash would reverse her position on her own accord either. She’s the Element of Loyalty, and though she can be a bit egocentric, she’s never been known to turn away a friend in need. Surely if Rainbow realized how important this was she’d be willing to give Scootaloo a chance, and once Scootaloo was afforded that opportunity surely she’d worm her way into to Rainbow’s heart.

“Hello, Rainbow,” Rarity called up to the cloud, hoping Rainbow wasn’t completely unconscious.

After a moment or two, the Rainbow tail disappeared to be replaced with a cyan snout, peering down at her with half closed eyes. “Hey, Rares, whasup?”

“I was wondering if we might talk for a minute.”

Rainbow’s eyes opened further and Rarity counted her blessings that Rainbow didn’t seem to be perturbed from being roused. “Sure, ya need me to come down from my cloud?”

“That would be preferable, yes.”

Rainbow flapped her wings a few times propelling herself off of the cloud, and landed in front of Rarity, kicking up a small cloud of dust as she did. “Okay, so what’s so important that you had to interrupt my nap?”

Rarity paused for a moment to shake the dust from her coat. There was no tactful way to approach the conversation and she couldn’t think of a different topic that would conceivably lead to talking about Scootaloo. So any races coming up? You know who loves races? Scootaloo, have you thought more about adopting her? “It’s about Scootaloo,” Rarity said, opting to be direct.

Rainbow balked slightly, evidently remembering the last conversation Rarity had tried to have about her number one fan. “Squirt? This isn’t about adopting her again, is it?”

“As a matter of fact it is,” Rarity said calmly, hoping to keep the conversation on an even keel.

A look of concern flashed across Rainbow’s face which Rarity construed as a positive sign. “You said she was moving to Baltimare. What happened with that?”

“She is staying with me until she can find a place in Ponyville. I thought it best if she wasn’t forcibly removed from her friends, as well as the only town she’s ever lived in.”

“That’s great!” Rainbow said, and her joy appeared to be genuine.

Rarity waited for Rainbow to ask any sort of follow up question, such as So what happens now? but she was met with a blank stare. She pressed onward. "However, I'm only able to keep Scootaloo until I can find her a permanent guardian."

"Okay," Rainbow Dash said, raising an eyebrow. An uncomfortable silence hung in the air as Rainbow fidgeted in place, absentmindedly scratching her left foreleg.

"Yes and I... I was wondering if you would reconsider your previous position.”

Rainbow shook her head. "I already told you, Rarity. I can't adopt her."

Rarity gritted her teeth and fought to keep her voice level. “As a point of emphasis, you can adopt her. You’re an adult, you have a stable job, and you own your own house. Furthermore Scootaloo adores you, you’d be approved instantly. So, if we are being honest with each other then you can adopt her—you just won’t.”

Rainbow ignored Rarity’s frustration and just rolled her eyes. “Okay fine, Rares. You’re right. I won’t. But it’s not cause I don’t like the kid. I’m just not ready to take care of a foal.”

“Well, sometimes life throws us challenges, whether we are prepared for them or not!”

Rainbow stomped her right hoof and snorted.“This isn’t one of those times! I didn’t get drunk and do something stupid. I didn’t volunteer to be Scootaloo’s godmother, and I didn’t promise the kid she could live with me. I don’t have what it takes to take care of a child. Heck, I barely manage to keep myself clean and fed most of the time.”

“She worships you, and she’s profoundly unhappy. You can help her, Rainbow Dash,” Rarity replied, her voice just shy of pleading.

“You need me to spend some more time with her? I can do that. Want me to teach her all about how to preen and that kind of stuff? I can do that too. Want us to enter the Sisterhooves Social? I’ll be first in line at the registration table. But you can’t ask me to adopt her, that’s not fair!”

Fair? Fair! What wasn’t fair was an innocent child feeling unloved. What wasn’t fair was being abandoned by your birth parents without knowing why. And what wasn’t fair was choosing the most stubborn, self centered, egotistical pegasus in all of Equestria to be your idol. “Life isn’t fair!” Rarity shrieked. “Why should it be unfair to her over you? Give me one good reason why you can’t adopt her!” Rarity challenged, her glare doing its best to drill a hole straight through Rainbow Dash.

The two friends were yelling at each other in earnest now, and it was only that there was no one around to hear them that they weren't causing a very public scene. “Because I have plans!” Rainbow fired back. “Being a Wonderbolt, touring Equestria, maybe even The Griffon Kingdoms, and none of those includes dragging a kid along with me.”

Rarity seethed not so quietly, drawing sharp breaths through her teeth. “Some Element of Loyalty you turned out to be,” she growled.

“Oh, fuck you, Rarity,” Rainbow snarled back, before promptly flying off to a cloud higher in the sky, where she could nap without having her life choices questioned.

Rarity spent the rest of the morning angrily decorating Scootaloo’s room. It wasn’t just the profanity that had rattled her. It was the thought of Scootaloo crying all alone, while Rainbow refused to do anything to help. Okay that’s not entirely fair, and maybe I shouldn’t have brought up her Element, but she is just so selfish! And that train of thought process continued unabated until Rarity had finished her task.

She stepped back and leaned against the door frame so that she could admire her hoof work. Scootaloo’s bed was now covered in a lightning bolt ornamented down comforter, and beneath that, what had once been hearts, was now a more Scootaloo-friendly, transportation themed bedsheet. In addition, Rarity had taken down most of the flowers that Sweetie Belle had put up, but chose to leave the vines, giving the room an aura more reminiscent of an ancient ruin than a flower shop. Finally the curtains were now cyan so that, when they were closed, the room was bathed in a soft blue light, and when open they still evoked the feeling of that selfish jerk. The walls were now relatively bare, but that could be easily fixed. A bit spartan perhaps, but it’s a start.

As she was admiring the results of her efforts, she heard a small voice from behind her.

“Whoa,” the voice said. Scootaloo’s small figure gently pushed past Rarity and the orange filly strained her neck trying to take in all the new features.

“So, what do you think?”

“It’s awesome. I’ll bet this looks just like Rainbow Dash’s room when she was a filly,” Scootaloo said as she fluttered her wings and happily bounced around her new room.

Rarity winced at the mention of Scootaloo’s idol. It wasn’t just the reminder of the ugly things they had recently said to each other, it was the way Scootaloo said the words. Scootaloo said Rainbow Dash with the same tone Rarity used to say Manehattan when she was Scootaloo’s age. They were words that were always uttered with a sense of longing. Rainbow Dash wasn’t just a pony to Scootaloo, she represented an idea, namely the thought that someday she might have a home of her own, specifically with a pony who loved her and cared for her.

Looking down at Scootaloo, who appeared to be as happy as Rarity could remember seeing her, Rarity was torn between the conflicting notions of wanting to be honest with her and protecting her from the truth about Rainbow’s lack of interest in becoming her guardian. Allowing her to hold onto false hope might end up hurting worse in the long run and after their fight, Rarity certainly felt no obligation to protect Rainbow’s image. But she just couldn't bring herself to crush Scootaloo’s spirit like that, and Rainbow was still her friend, even if that friendship was currently on very thin ice.

“Maybe,” she said with as sincere as smile as she could muster. “Why don’t you ask her about it the next time you see her?”

Respecting Decisions

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Scootaloo finished soaking up her new surroundings and looked up at Rarity with wide purple eyes. She made a rare moment of eye contact, “Thank you,” she said, an earnest softness lacing her voice that Rarity found both disarming and heartbreaking. Unable to keep the previously established eye contact, Scootaloo instead opted to look back toward the floor. “I really like it,” Scootaloo said quietly,

Rarity gently used her hoof to lift the small orange snout upwards so Scootaloo could see her more clearly. “You’re very welcome, Scootaloo. I’m glad you approve,” she said, smiling warmly. “You still have lots of space on your walls, how would you like to decorate them?”

“I’m gonna color some pictures,” Scootaloo said with more than a faint note of pride. “Maybe one of me and Rainbow Dash!”

Rarity winced but made an effort to hide the gesture, lest Scootaloo ask why that statement pained her. “That sounds like a wonderful idea. Do you need anything?”

Scootaloo shook her head and fluttered her wings. “Nope. I’ve already got some art supplies, and I’ll bet Sweetie wouldn’t mind if I borrowed her desk.”

Rarity didn’t bother to emphasize that, as long as she was staying at the Boutique, Scootaloo should consider the desk in the corner as belonging to her. “I’m sure she wouldn’t. I have some more errands to run and perhaps a bit of work to do. I shall most likely be in my parlor room if you require anything further.”

Scootaloo nodded and set about coloring, and Rarity took that as her cue to exit.

Her first stop was the library. Even though the Golden Oaks Library had been destroyed, Twilight had dedicated the first floor of her new friendship castle as the town’s library. Some ponies argued that it was because Twilight was trying to keep some semblance of consistency amidst the changes in her life, but the truth was much simpler. Twilight liked books and she liked being a librarian. Helping ponies discover new reading material, organizing the different sections, deciding which new books to add to the archives, all of those things made Twilight happy, and she wasn’t about to let a small thing like the library being destroyed prevent her from doing them.

No sooner had Rarity entered the library then she was accosted by Spike, who eagerly leapt up from behind the reference desk and waddled over to her.

“Hi Rarity! What are you doing here? Can I help you with anything?” Spike asked, his tail swishing back and forth in anticipation.

Rarity smiled patiently at the lovesick dragon. His feelings were painfully transparent, and one day she might have to break his heart, but for now there was no harm in letting Spike hold onto his childlike crush. In any case she, already had one troubled child on her agenda, she didn’t need a second. “As a matter of fact, Spike, I believe you can. Could you direct me to the section of the library where I might find books on how to care for fillies?”

Spike physically recoiled at the question. “Wha—? But, I thought you weren’t…” Spike stuttered. He let out a painful sounding sigh and hung his head. “It doesn’t matter, so who’s the father?”

Rarity suddenly jerked her head back in surprise as she realized what Spike was implying. “I’m not—”

But before she could finish, Spike shook his head vigorously. “No, y’know what, that doesn’t matter either. I just want you to know that if you ever need anything I’m here for you and I hope the two of you are very happy together,” he said, though the pain of that concession was still spelled out clearly on his face.

“I’m not pregnant, Spike!” Rarity snapped, more out of a desire to move past this silly notion than actual anger.

Despite his best efforts to hide it Spike appeared significantly buoyed by Rarity’s remark, breathing out an audible “Whew,” before following it with, “not that it’s any of my business or anything.”

“Will you please just point me in the direction of your parenting section,” Rarity replied.

“Sure, it’s actually right next to general psychology, right around the corner, you can’t miss it.”

Spike paused and frowned. “Um, if you don’t mind my asking, if you’re not pregnant why are you picking up books about how to be a parent? There are more fun things to read y’know.”

Rarity considered how much she should tell the young drake. She had already determined that Scootaloo’s neuroses were not her secrets to share. The young filly worked hard at hiding them, and Rarity reasoned that she should respect Scootaloo’s wishes. Rarity wanted to pick up a few books on child psychology in the hopes that she might better understand what Scootaloo was going through, but she needed to do so in a way that kept her reasons for doing so hidden.

However her vow of silence did not mean that she was obligated to hide everything about her guest and the information that Scootaloo would be under her care for the time being seemed benign enough to spread. “Yes, Spike, I am aware of that. Scootaloo is staying with me for a little while, and I want to be prepared should I encounter an unfamiliar situation.” Which had the benefit of being both true and still respectful of Scootaloo’s desires.

Spike shrugged his shoulders. “That makes sense. I’m sure you’ll make a great temporary mom or whatever,” Spike said, evidently now even more relaxed that he didn’t have to worry about competing for Rarity’s affections.

A quick thank you later and Rarity found herself intensely studying the selection of parenting books available. Based on the wide array of books available, Twilight certainly didn’t skimp when it came to presenting opposing viewpoints about any subject. A cursory glance at some of the titles suggested that Rarity should take a firm approach with Scootaloo, impressing on her the idea that misbehavior will not be tolerated. Other suggested the opposite, that troubled fillies need an environment free of negative consequences, so that they might learn to have confidence in their own choices.

In the end, Rarity opted for a couple of general parenting guides, geared toward an overview of parenting philosophies rather than adhering to a specific mantra. Her choices also allowed her to keep up the appearance of the half truth she told Spike as she checked out her selections.

Books nestled in her saddlebag, Rarity made another quick run into town, thankfully not running into Rainbow Dash again, and returned home to start on an upcoming dress order. One thing about the past few days that had been consistent was that her schedule had become much more volatile. Taking advantage of a quiet afternoon seemed like the most prudent course of action, even if she preferred not to work over the weekends. As she sewed, she found that the sounds of Scootaloo puttering around upstairs provided a kind of white noise that helped calm her thoughts. Whether it was because that sound meant that Scootaloo was likely temporarily untroubled or it was just the soothing effects of ambient noise, Rarity couldn’t be sure, but she was thankful for its presence either way.

The hour began to grow late, and the question of what to do about dinner began to loom. Rarity had left Scootaloo to her own devices for lunch, and much to her delight, Scootaloo had not only proved capable of fending for herself, she had also neatly stacked her dishes in the sink when she had finished. Scootaloo hadn’t seen fit to wash her own dishes but even slow progress was progress.

Rarity trotted upstairs and poked her head into Scootaloo’s room. The once sparse walls were now slightly less so. Childlike drawings of a selfish jerk soaring through the clouds now dotted the walls near the desk in the corner, including one where a small orange pegasus flew beside her.

But it wasn’t the pictures on the wall that had Rarity’s attention it was the filly dancing in the middle of the room. Apparently done with coloring for the day, Scootaloo had put on a pair of headphones and was currently dancing with the carefree abandon that only children truly possessed.

Rarity stood in the doorframe as still as she possibly could, just watching. She couldn’t hear what Scootaloo was listening to, but that almost didn’t matter. Scootaloo moved with such a defined sense of rhythm and grace that it was easy to imagine the music pulsing through the headphones. Scootaloo’s head kept bobbing up and down, keeping the beat. Occasionally she would flip her hair to the side, but always in time. Her hips wiggled back and forth, in perfect sync with her head, and every so often she’d incorporate a pirouette or shimmy, never once stumbling. Her movements were uniformly precise, her muscles always tightly coiled, every action an efficient use of both motion and space. Rarity couldn’t help but smile watching. Perhaps the most impressive aspect of Scootaloo’s unwitting performance, was that she didn’t seem to be restrict herself to one particular school of dance.

Rarity was able to recognize some classical elements in the routines, the dips and pirouettes Scootaloo liked to incorporate among them. But the hair tossing and shimmying seemed to be derived from a more modern discipline. And Scootaloo blended them together seamlessly.

After a particularly energetic turn in which Scootaloo used her wings to propel herself into the air she spotted Rarity in the doorway, leaping backwards with a surprised yelp, before landing most ungracefully on her rear end.

“I’m sorry, dear. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Scootaloo stood up, rubbing her haunches gingerly. “What do you want?” she asked, more surprised at the intrusion than angry.

“Well I came to see what your thoughts were about dinner. But if you don’t mind my saying so, you are quite a talented dancer.”

Scootaloo looked down at the floor, a personality quirk that Rarity now made it her mission to correct. “No, I’m not. This is just something I do for fun.”

Rarity walked into the room, closing the gap between her and Scootaloo. “Have you ever taken lessons?” Rarity asked, once again gently lifting Scootaloo’s chin up.

“Once, a little while ago, but then I had to move and my new parents didn’t want to pay for the lessons anymore.”

Rarity frowned slightly. Scootaloo was really good. It would be a shame if the only thing preventing her from exploring her love of dance was something as trifling as a few bits. Furthermore it appeared that dancing made Scootaloo happy, and that alone made it worth the cost as far as Rarity was concerned. “If it were up to you, would you like to resume your lessons?”

“Yeah, sure. And I’d also like to fly, doesn’t mean either is going to happen.”

“Well, I may not be able to do anything about the flying, but what if I paid for the dance lessons?”

Scootaloo went rigid and Rarity could clearly see Scootaloo’s temper about to flare up. “You don’t have to do that! It’s not like I’m staying here very long. And I don’t want to go to a few lessons only to have them stop again.”

Rarity considered Scootaloo’s objection. It was a valid point, of course it was also very easily remedied. “Very well then, I promise to continue to fund your dance lessons for as long as you live in Ponyville.”

The idea that she might be able to take dance lessons again certainly seemed appealing to Scootaloo. Her wings fluttered and Rarity could see the beginnings of a smile. But it also appeared that Scootaloo’s insistence on being miserable continued to assert itself as the smile transformed into a more grim countenance. “Maybe you could use the money Foal Services sends you,” she said hopefully.

Rarity shook her head. “No, Scootaloo, I promised that you could direct that money toward a charity, and you are not a charity.”

“But—”

“Scootaloo, you are going to have to learn to let ponies help you. You are quite talented, and as a patron of the arts I would very much like to see your gift properly developed. Now, if you would rather not take dance lessons that is your decision and I will respect it. However, if you would enjoy further honing your craft, I would be delighted to assist you in doing so.”

Scootaloo kept her chin up, but her eyes darted around the room. “Okay, umm, maybe I can help out around the shop or something too.”

Rarity shook her head again. “I am not doing this so that I can pry some sort of concession from you. You have made quite clear your lack of interest in anything fashion related and I intend to respect that decision as well.”

“I have to do something to make it up to you,” Scootaloo pleaded.

Rarity smiled, her victory nearly at hoof. “You can tell me what you’d like to eat for dinner.”

Bringing up Fillies

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The answer to Rarity’s question turned out to be salad. It was a simple dish but one that Rarity was happy to agree to even though Scootaloo expressed a preference for dandelion greens over arugula. Rarity made a mental note that Scootaloo seemed to particularly enjoy the orchids she added so perhaps that was something else she could work with.

It was still Saturday; there were a number of social engagements going on in town that Rarity could attend: Filthy Rich was hosting a soirée, Fluttershy had offered her a standing invitation to come over whenever she wanted, and she was sure that Pinkie Pie could be persuaded to go out. Rarity glanced at her saddlebags, filled with the library books she brought home and then stole a glance upstairs as she listened to the sounds of Scootaloo playing in Sweetie’s-no her- room. Somehow another quiet evening in seemed more appealing than anything else she could be doing.

She levitated a blanket over to her sofa, lit a fire to fight back the chill night air, and cracked open her first selection, 101 Tips for Raising Happy Foals. Half an hour of reading later she had learned such gems as “don’t give your foals too much candy” and “invest in some foalproof locks for keeping them out from under the sink”. With a groan Rarity set it aside and cracked open her next selection; Bringing up Fillies.

There was no chapter titled, How to heal an emotionally traumatized filly whose idol is almost surely going to disappoint her, but it did contain some very practical parenting advice. For starters, it made very clear that every filly was different; there was no singular correct way to raise them. The second point that Rarity found reassuring was that observing what worked with one’s own filly was a large part of raising a happy one. If Scootaloo responded well to discipline she should endeavor to keep an orderly house. If, on the other hoof, it appeared that Scootaloo was more receptive to a softer approach, then Rarity should indeed use velvet gloves, so to speak.

Rarity hadn’t spent enough time with Scootaloo to develop a comprehensive parenting philosophy. It appeared that Scootaloo did not respond well to challenges, but that she was receptive to honesty; however that was as far as Rarity had gotten. Scootaloo also seemed used to being able to make her own decisions, whether that was because she felt she couldn’t trust anypony else or because she prized her independence was a mystery that Rarity wasn’t sure she’d ever solve.

The other tangible thing that appeared to help Scootaloo was Rarity’s swaddling spell. She had only used it twice but both times it had resulted in Scootaloo being fast asleep for the rest of the night.

The beginning of the psychology section warned against parents playing armchair psychiatrist. In big bold letters was a warning that any parent with serious concerns about the mental well being of their filly should seek professional help. However the book also acknowledged that young fillies got scared and nervous and sad and that all of these things were part of growing up.

Rarity wasn’t quite willing to chalk Scootaloo’s episodes up to simple growing pains; however the reminder that dealing with volatile emotions was part of being a parent was a welcome confirmation that the task she had undertaken was by no means unique.

Task? Wait, no. I am simply offering Scootaloo a place to stay until a proper family can be located. I care about her well being as much as I would any guest staying at the Boutique.

It was obvious that Scootaloo became more emotional at night, a fairly common problem with both fillies and colts according to the book. At least the swaddling spell seemed to have a calming effect. Therefore, Rarity reasoned, that she should keep doing it, even if it was only a temporary solution. Perhaps if Scootaloo got into the habit of falling asleep quickly she would soon be able to do so without assistance. Eager to test her new hypothesis she went upstairs to find Scootaloo, hoping that her guest hadn’t gone to bed yet.

Rarity knocked on the door and gently pushed it open, pleased to find Scootaloo sitting at her desk coloring some more pictures, more wall art perhaps?

At the sound of a hoof rapping against the door Scootaloo turned her head, her ears perked up a little and Rarity would swear that there was a hint of a smile that hadn’t been there before she entered.

“Hi, Rarity,” Scootaloo said, setting down the blue crayon she was previously holding.

Rarity returned the smile, regardless of whether or not it actually existed. “I’d like you to do me a favor.”

Scootaloo’s ears perked up further. “Sure!”

“I’d like you to let me tuck you in tonight,” Rarity suggested cautiously.

Scootaloo’s ears fell to their usual semi-droopy state. “That’s it? That’s not really a favor. I was hoping you’d let me do something to make it up to you for paying for my dance lessons.”

“I said that was a gift, remember?”

“Why do you want to tuck me in anyway?” Scootaloo asked, fixing Rarity with a curious, almost wary, expression.

Scootaloo’s trust was fragile. So far she had demonstrated very little tolerance for lies, even benign ones. “I’ve noticed that the past two nights you’ve let me do my… horn thing, you’ve slept peacefully for the rest of the evening. I’d like to see if tucking you in will help you get to sleep without crying. Of course, if you’d rather I not, I understand.”

Scootaloo scrunched her face and looked down at her drawing. She stayed silent for a few moments, silently weighing the pros and cons of willingly allowing Rarity that level of intimacy. Other places she had stayed in had offered to tuck her in at night, or read her a bedtime story, and she always turned them down because letting another pony get too close was a sure way to end up hurt. But what if this was different? If nothing else, Scootaloo did enjoy the tactile nature of Rarity’s spell. “That might be okay. I mean it does feel kind of nice…”

Rarity smiled a broad smile and clapped her hooves together. “Splendid! Are you ready for bed now?”

“Umm, can I stay up another hour?” Scootaloo asked with the same wide eyes that Rarity was used to seeing on Sweetie Belle when she made similar requests.

It was impossible to deny such a childish wish. “I suppose there’s no harm in staying up a little later.”

An hour later Rarity returned to find Scootaloo climbing into bed. She wore a nervous expression; it didn’t look like fear, more like apprehension. Either way, Rarity would have preferred it be nonexistent. Scootaloo burrowed under the covers, peeking out at Rarity as she sat down near the edge of the bed.

“Ready for bed, dear?” Rarity asked as non-threatening as she could, given that the phrase was not particularly ominous anyway. Scootaloo nodded, though still clearly nervous, from her haven under the down comforter and Rarity flared up her horn. She hummed a soft lullaby as she let the spell work its magic.

She watched carefully as Scootaloo twitched, her body going tense for a few moments before relaxing. Her eyes fluttered closed and soon the little filly was blissfully sleeping as though all was right with the world.

Rarity went to bed soon after, and even without anypony to tuck her in, she slept more soundly than she had for the past few nights.

The next morning, Scootaloo came bounding down the stairs as Rarity was preparing breakfast. It was only one night, but Rarity was pleased that Scootaloo seemed in much higher spirits than usual.

“So whatcha’ up to today?” Scootaloo asked as she eagerly poured milk into her cereal.

Rarity paused to consider the question. As always, there was work to be done. Dresses needed to be sewn, orders needed to be placed and trends needed to be monitored. “The idea of spending the day in my parlor room sounds absolutely dreadful.” Rarity groaned. “How about a poker lesson after breakfast instead?” she asked cheerfully.

“Sure! Are you going to teach me how to bluff, and spot a tell and all that cool stuff?” Scootaloo asked, her wings buzzing.

“In time, but first you have to learn the basic rules of poker.”

Scootaloo frowned, her hopes at being instantly transformed into a card shark, dashed. “That doesn’t sound very fun.”

“Fun or not, it is quite necessary,” Rarity said as she levitated a pair of spectacles and a green visor over the table along with a deck of cards by way of preparation.

Scootaloo finished her breakfast, took a quick shower and trotted downstairs eager to get the boring parts of learning how to play poker out of the way, so she could start impressing her friends. Maybe she could even trick Diamond Tiara into a game for actual bits.

“Pull up a chair, dear,” Rarity said as she began magically shuffling the cards in preparation for Scootaloo’s first lesson.

Scootaloo did as she was bid. She had played poker before so she already knew which combinations of cards were better than the others, but that was about as far as her knowledge of the game went. Rarity set about explaining how to quickly calculate the odds that one of her opponents had drawn the cards they needed. She started out teaching Scootaloo the fundamentals of Troxtas Hold ‘em. All of the players were dealt two cards and then five cards were placed in the middle of table for all the players to share. Because of this communal pot much less math was involved then in a game of straight up five card draw, where Scootaloo would be required to make several guesses about what an opponent may or may not be holding. Math wasn’t Scootaloo’s favorite subject but she appeared to be picking up the nuances of guesstimating odds quickly, much to Rarity's delight.

As Rarity was reshuffling the deck in preparation for another hand, a knock on the door interrupted their peaceful morning. “Autumn, what are you doing here? I was under the impression that the foal services office was closed on Sundays,” Rarity said, opening the door only to find Scootaloo’s social worker waiting patiently on the other side.

“If I didn’t take my work home with me, it’d never get done,” he replied with a shrug. “Anyways I come bearing good news: there’s a new family in Ponyville and they are looking to adopt. They’d like to meet with Scootaloo tomorrow. Unless you’d like to reschedule.”

Scootaloo trotted over and stood next to Rarity. Standing quietly she processed what Autumn was saying as well as Rarity's reaction. “That is wonderful news! Scootaloo, do you have any objections?” Rarity asked, glancing down, expecting to see some form of joy from the news that Scootaloo might soon have the family she craved.

But whereas Rarity was quite obviously delighted at the news, Scootaloo betrayed no discernible emotion.“I guess not,” she mumbled.

Scootaloo’s lack of enthusiasm caused Rarity to reconsider her previous elation. “Is something wrong, darling?”

Scootaloo shook her head. “No, tomorrow’s fine,” she said louder, but still without any feeling.

Rarity waited for Scootaloo to offer any further explanation but was met with only silence.

Autumn cleared his throat in an effort to break up the rapidly thickening tension. “Tomorrow after school it is.” He offered Scootaloo a smile and then a quick smile and nod at Rarity before turning around to no doubt deal with the rest of his caseload.

Rarity closed the door and turned back towards Scootaloo. “Well, that was certainly unexpected. Shall we continue our lesson?”

“I think I’d like to go play by myself,” Scootaloo mumbled, hurrying upstairs before Rarity could respond.

As Rarity watched Scootaloo disappear behind the door to her room the only thought she had was, What just happened?

Which Hurts Worse?

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Scootaloo spent the rest of the day by herself, quietly playing in her room. This gave Rarity an understanding of how her previous foster parents must have felt. It was exactly as Autumn described her behavior. Scootaloo wasn’t mean or disrespectful, she just retreated into a shell, refusing any of Rarity’s efforts to re-engage with her.

And despite offers of more poker lessons or a trip to the arts and crafts store, she continued to rebuff Rarity for the entire day, even through dinner, which she ate in her room. Rarity considered demanding Scootaloo at least eat downstairs, but somehow it seemed like a violation of her promise to try and force Scootaloo out of her funk. Rarity told herself that she would work on teaching Scootaloo why such behavior was uncalled for later, but for now she let it slide, hoping some space would demonstrate her good intentions.

The next morning Scootaloo offered more of the same, a mumbled hello to be precise, before trudging off to school.

Rarity spent her day running her business, as though she didn’t have a temperamental filly to care for. From her perspective there was little to be done anyway until Scootaloo proved willing to re-engage.

Scootaloo returned from school with the same mumbled greeting she offered in the morning. Even if Rarity wanted to allow Scootaloo time to wallow, they had an appointment to keep, and a lady was always punctual.

“Are you ready to leave?” Rarity asked as politely as she could manage, lest she agitate Scootaloo further, sabotaging her visit before it had even begun.

Scootaloo stared at the ground, avoiding eye contact. “Yeah, let me just put my stuff down,” she muttered.

Scootaloo stayed in her room for significantly longer than it should have taken to put her school supplies away, and Rarity was about to go upstairs and knock on the door. But before she got to the stairs, Scootaloo emerged from her room wearing a yellow sundress with a bright white daisy on the skirt. Her mane was also shiny, adorned with a small yellow barrette, and meticulously combed. All in all she looked heart-meltingly adorable; she also looked nothing like the filly Rarity was used to seeing.

“So, how do I look?” Scootaloo asked with a sigh after she finished descending the stairs.

Rarity tapped her hoof on the ground, ponderously humming, the way she often did when she was judging a new dress. Studying Scootaloo carefully, she walked over, closing the distance between them. Pausing to give the filly one last look Rarity licked her hoof, then promptly tussled Scootaloo’s mane until it resembled the familiar windswept look that she had become accustomed to seeing. Scootaloo jumped back and glared angrily at Rarity, her back arched. “Why would you do that? Now I have to go brush it again!”

But instead of matching Scootaloo's countenance, Rarity returned the glare with a wry grin. “Scootaloo, I’ve known you for a few years, and I have only seen you brush your hair and wear a dress twice. Once at Princess Cadence’s wedding, and again for Sweetie’s play.”

Scootaloo’s glare lessened, but traces of it still remained. “Don’t you want me to make a good impression? If they like me I’ll be out of your mane.”

Rarity sighed; apparently her efforts to make Scootaloo feel welcome were not going as well as she thought they were. “I want you to find a family who appreciates you for who you are. Didn’t Autumn say that this was about everypony getting to know each other?”

Scootaloo glanced away and pawed at the ground. “Yeah,” she mumbled.

“And they can’t really get to know you if you’re not being yourself, can they? The Scootaloo I know is a wonderful little filly, who likes her mane tousled and has no use for frilly dresses. That’s the filly they should meet.”

Scootaloo wiggled her shoulders and slipped out of the dress she had carefully picked out. She walked over to the mirror and stared at herself for a good long moment, her mouth twisting into a kind of sad smile. “This is who I am, I guess.”

“Indeed it is. And I’ll tell you a secret.” Rarity leaned close to Scootaloo as though she was about to share something illicit. “I like this Scootaloo a lot better than the one who came down the stairs,” Rarity whispered.

Scootaloo looked in the mirror again, her expression didn’t change but Rarity did notice a faint twinkle in her eyes that hadn’t been there previously.

At the Foal Services office they found Autumn waiting for them with a pair of earth ponies Rarity assumed to be Scootaloo’s prospective foster parents. One was a light tan colored mare, with an orangish mane, and the other was a sky blue stallion with a white mane.

“I’m Lilly,” the mare said with a wide, almost hopeful smile. She turned slightly so Scootaloo could see her cutie mark which matched her name. “And this is my husband, Treble.”

“I’m Scootaloo,” Scootaloo said, even though the pair of ponies in front of her already knew that. Having to introduce herself to ponies who already knew her name was just one of the many things Scootaloo hated about these visits. She knew that Autumn already had shown the prospective parents a file containing her name and picture. And they had obviously talked about her or else they wouldn’t have agreed to meet her. So having to confirm that she was the pony they already thought she was struck her as an indignity that she shouldn’t have to put up with.

But Lilly acted like it was the first time she had ever heard the name, nodding intently. “It’s very nice to meet you, Scootaloo. Maybe you could tell me a little bit about yourself?”

“I’m a pegasus, I like riding my scooter and dancing and I don’t like spaghetti,” Scootaloo replied as though her entire being could be summed up in those four details.

“Well, that’s very good to know. I don’t know much about scooters or dancing, but my husband is a musician,” Lilly offered. Scootaloo had no response so the two just stared at eachother for another moment. “I like to garden,” Lilly said again turning slightly to highlight her eponymous cutie mark. “Have you ever done any planting?”

Scootaloo glanced away, looking around the too familiar room. “I’ve helped Apple Bloom do her chores a few times at Sweet Apple Acres.”

“Ooh, I’ve never been there but I hear their apple orchards are very impressive. Maybe you can show me around one day?” Lilly said, trying to keep eye contact.

“Sure,” Scootaloo said quietly, turning her head back toward Lilly. “I don’t think Apple Bloom would mind.”

The tragedy of the situation, according to Rarity, was that Scootaloo really was making an effort; though it might not have been apparent to anypony who wasn’t familiar with the little pegasus’ penchant for walling herself off. She answered the questions posed to her with more than one syllable, she tried to force a few smiles and she played Chutes and Ladders with at least a modicum of interest. But none of that would matter if Lilly and Treble couldn’t understand that Scootaloo needed time to feel comfortable.

“Who are you watching? Them or her?” Rarity asked Autumn from behind the one way mirror where they had taken up shop to observe the meeting.

Autumn kept his gaze firmly on the three ponies, writing a few quick scribbles in a notebook. “Them. Scootaloo’s never going to open up to someone meeting them for the first time. I’m trying to see how they deal with that.”

“Maybe I should talk to them. I’ve gotten to know Scootaloo at least a little bit. Maybe I could help them understand that she just needs some time?”

Autumn shook his head, with enough conviction to let Rarity know that this was not up for debate. “No. They need to form their own opinions. New parents usually have very little interactions with previous guardians for that exact reason.”

Rarity pursed her lips, trying not to be offended. “I see,” she said, observing the possible family continue their game. Scootaloo continued to go through the motions, rolling the dice when it was her turn and moving the appropriate number of spaces, but there was nothing joyous in any of her actions. Lilly and Treble played with a tempered enthusiasm, clearly letting Scootaloo win, which caused Rarity to cringe inwardly. Though their intentions may have been pure, denying Scootaloo a legitimately earned victory was not the way into her good graces.

As she watched the game continue she felt a strange tightness in her chest. Nervousness? Fear? It wasn’t strong enough to be either of those. If she had to put a name to it, she’d describe it as defensive. She wanted to pound on the windows and scream through the glass. No! Scootaloo doesn’t want to win, she wants you to accept her whether she wins or loses! But Autumns words echoed in her head and she stayed quiet.

“You win!” Lilly exclaimed while Treble adopted a faux-disappointed expression. “You’ll have to give us a rematch soon.”

“Sure,” Scootaloo replied with a very nonchalant shrug, having exhausted all the enthusiasm she was prepared to offer.

Figuring that their visit had run its intended course Autumn reintroduced himself, coming out from behind the one way mirror. “Well, that’s about all the time we have. Scootaloo, thanks for coming. Lilly, Treble, if you would follow me back to my office.”

With no further interaction with Lilly and Treble necessary, Rarity and Scootaloo returned to the boutique. Scootaloo went upstairs to do her homework and Rarity again found herself making dinner. Cooking for two had become almost second nature surprisingly quickly. Despite Scootaloo’s distaste for spaghetti, she wasn’t a picky eater. As such, Rarity found that her usual meals didn’t need to be altered, only the portion size increased.

Scootaloo deigned to eat downstairs and Rarity chose to reward this behavior by not bringing up any potentially incendiary topics. Instead they made polite small talk, mainly focusing on school and crusading.

Rarity did the dishes and settled in prepared to digest another few chapters of Bring up Fillies. A fierce storm raged outside, the winds howling. Safely inside the walls of the boutique, Rarity was grateful neither she nor Scootaloo needed to venture out. A bright flash of lightning was quickly followed by the loud crack of thunder and Rarity found concentrating difficult. Another bright light and subsequent crack later Rarity set the book down.

She had never had much problems with storms, but she remembered that when Sweetie was younger she would cower at even faint rumbles of thunder. Thinking of Sweetie naturally made her curious about Scootaloo’s response to inclement weather.

Even if Scootaloo wasn’t bothered by the noise she might appreciate another lullabye and so Rarity went upstairs to offer one. Scootaloo didn’t protest the intrusion, inviting Rarity back into the room and perhaps seemingly into her incredibly small circle of trust.

“What did you think about Lilly and Treble?” Rarity asked, pulling the covers securely over the orange pegasus.

Scootaloo sighed. “They seemed nice and they live in Ponyville. That’s kinda the best I can hope for.”

“Why do you say that, dear?” Rarity asked with a slight tilt of her head.

“Because I know how this works. Autumn took them back to his office and then it was all ‘What did you think about Scootaloo?’ and ‘Is she always like that?’” Scootaloo said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “If they liked me, Autumn will ask me how I feel about them. No, I’m not scared of them. Yes I’d like to stay in Ponyville,” Scootaloo replied to the hypothetical inquiry as though she was reading items off a grocery list.

A terrible thought planted itself in Rarity’s mind at the mention of the word “Scared.” What if Scootaloo had been abused by her subsequent foster parents after she had been abandoned? It might help explain further why she was so reluctant to lower her guard. The horrifying question needed an answer, unpleasant though it may be. “Scared? Has anyone ever hurt you?” Rarity asked, studying Scootaloo intently for any sign of deception.

Scootaloo shook her head. “No, but Autumn always asks if I think they might.” She paused, “I don’t think he’d let anypony he thought might hurt me even meet me,” Scootaloo said quietly looking down at her hooves.

Rarity breathed a small sigh of relief. It was nice to be reminded that there were other ponies looking out for Scootaloo’s welfare, and that, though Scootaloo had endured a horrific trauma, it hadn’t been compounded.

As far as Rarity could tell, the list of ponies Scootaloo trusted consisted of maybe six individuals. Her sister and Apple Bloom were almost certainly on it. Likewise she was sure Rainbow had to occupy a spot. Scootaloo had never complained about Cheerilee so Rarity assumed that maybe her teacher had been granted at least a measure of trust. She herself seemed to be on the list, however tenuously, and lastly it appeared that Autumn was also somepony whom Scootaloo placed her fragile faith in. The idea that Scootaloo thought that in all of Equestria there were only six ponies whose intentions toward her were benevolent was just another in a long line of heart-wrenching details and Rarity fought to maintain her composure.

The raging storm sent a particularly strong gust of wind through the windows of Scootaloo’s bedroom, and even though Rarity quickly resealed the windows and closed the latch with a quick spell, one of Scootaloo’s pictures was knocked off the wall.

Scootaloo hopped out of bed and hurried to retrieve it as though it were a priceless artifact. After inspecting the picture she carefully put it back in its designated spot at the center of her makeshift gallery. There were lots of hoofdrawn pictures of Rainbow Dash on the wall above Scootaloo’s desk, but this one was clearly special. It depicted Rainbow standing proudly on top of a mountain, a large, gloriously shining sun at her back and a rainbow over her head. Even just a cursory glance was enough for Rarity to judge that it was that picture Scootaloo had spent the most time on.

“You really admire her, don’t you?” The question may have well been rhetorical.

Scootaloo looked up as though Rarity had just said the most obvious thing ever, which in a way she had. “Of course I do. She’s the coolest pegasus ever! And the best flyer ever! You’re her friend you know that.”

“Rainbow is certainly a very talented flyer,” was as far as Rarity was willing to go in agreeing.

Scootaloo gazed longingly at the rest of the pictures she had colored. Her eyes lingered for a particularly long moment on the crude drawing of both her and Rainbow Dash soaring through the clouds. In that picture Scootaloo had an impossibly wide smile on her face, but her real world equivalent bore no such expression. “I wish I could fly.” Scootaloo sighed wistfully.

“I know you do, dear.”

Her picture secure, Scootaloo climbed back into bed. “If I could fly, I’d live with Rainbow Dash, and I wouldn’t have to go to anymore of these stupid meeting things where ponies ask me stupid questions and play stupid games and judge me all the time.”

“You really don’t like those meetings, do you?” Another rhetorical question.

Scootaloo shook her head, clearly trying to restrict her visible reactions to a faint trembling. In response, Rarity reached over with a foreleg to pull Scootaloo into a soft hug. It was a calculated risk, but to Rarity’s surprise and delight, Scootaloo made no effort to resist. In fact, she could swear that she could feel Scootaloo burrow into her shoulder ever so slightly. Rarity gave Scootaloo what she hoped was a reassuring squeeze.

Looking down at the filly next to her Rarity had a minor epiphany. It wasn’t that she was angry at Rainbow for being unwilling to adopt the filly next to her; it was that she was insulated from the consequences of that decision. Even though Rainbow remained resolute in her commitment not to adopt, Scootaloo still adored her. In large part because Scootaloo mistakenly believed that flying was the only obstacle preventing her and Rainbow from being a family. Rainbow got to spend time with Scootaloo, blissfully unaware about how much the filly was hurting, because Scootaloo worked hard at hiding it. And every time they practiced flying or saw a movie together, Scootaloo would look up at Rainbow with absolute, unquestioning, uncritical adoration, and Rainbow would drink it up like a parched traveler who stumbled on an oasis; all because of a misconception.

That wasn’t fair.

In fact, it was more than unfair; it bordered on cruel. That Rainbow was allowed to refill her boundless self-confidence from Scootaloo’s never-ending well of adoration, while Scootaloo’s self worth was always on the precipice of being completely depleted was a state of affairs that Rarity found increasingly intolerable.

But she knew that she couldn’t be the one to shatter Scootaloo’s carefully constructed fantasy. It was unlikely that the little filly would believe her, for starters. But beyond that Rarity wanted, perhaps somewhat selfishly, Rainbow Dash to have to look Scootaloo in the eye when Scootaloo learned that her idol was not all she imagined. Without question, a difficult thing, but a fitting penance. If Rainbow Dash really didn’t want to adopt Scootaloo then she needed to own up to that fact.

One more thought, stayed her tongue before she spoke. If Scootaloo did confront Rainbow Dash directly it was highly probable she would be hurt, badly. Looking down at the orange filly, snuggled warmly in bed made that prospect singularly unappealing as, at that moment, Rarity would have sworn to do whatever it took to spare Scootaloo from further heartache. But holding onto false hope was a different form of pain, and if Scootaloo ever did learn to fly and Rainbow refused to take her in, wouldn’t that hurt worse?

“Have you ever talked with Rainbow about adopting you?”

Scootaloo curled her tail around her body and began running her hooves through it. “Not really. I mean she said she’s my sister...” Scootaloo’s voice trailed off.

“I think you need to talk to Rainbow Dash about adopting you,” Rarity whispered, her voice breaking ever so slightly.

Scootaloo’s ears perked up and she smiled, Rarity’s words overshadowing the sadness in her voice. “You think she will?”

Rarity very cautiously considered how to respond, her ears pinned back against her head. It wasn’t her place to speak for Rainbow Dash, but she also refused to lie. “I think you need to hear her thoughts on the subject.”

However, the careful wording was not lost on the little filly. “You don’t think she’ll adopt me, do you?” Scootaloo backed away from the edge of the bed and scowled from under her blankets. “Well, you’re wrong! As soon as I can fly, Rainbow’s going to invite me to live with her and it’s going to be awesome!”

“I hope so, dear,” was the only reply Rarity felt comfortable giving. Unfortunately it also earned her another scowl.

But past that scowl, Rarity could almost hear the wheels in Scootaloo’s head turning. It was as if every time Rainbow was late to meet her, every time she left with only a brisk “See ya, squirt” and every canceled flying lesson, began to beat against Scootaloo’s psyche. And the effect of that pressure rendered Scootaloo mute as she tried desperately to push it down.

“Scootaloo—”

“Get out! I don’t want to talk to you anymore!”

Rarity started to protest, but ultimately decided not to, backing out of the room without a word or the lullaby she had came to offer. It appeared she had been once again relegated to the ranks of most ponies as far as Scootaloo was concerned. And whether she deserved that designation or not, she knew that one did not curry favor with Scootaloo by forcing anything. Tomorrow she would make an effort to work her way back into Scootaloo’s good graces.

The next morning the nugget of doubt that had been planted by Rarity’s suggestion was still present, gnawing away at Scootaloo's psyche. Rainbow is going to adopt me, Rarity is wrong, she repeated inwardly. But no matter how many times she repeated that mantra, the doubt wouldn’t go away. The only thing that could calm her mind would be Rainbow herself.

She couldn’t focus in school, everything from math, to history, to arts and crafts all reminded her of Rainbow Dash. And after school she didn’t feel like crusading. Instead Scootaloo sped through town on her scooter, desperate to alleviate what had become an almost overwhelming ache pushing against her chest.

Scootaloo frantically scoured Ponyville for any trace of the one pony who could help her. Finally, just off the main drag, she spotted Rainbow, lying on a shallow cloud, seemingly without a care in the world.

“Rainbow Dash!” Scootaloo practically shouted as she approached, her emotions overruling her decorum.

Rainbow jumped in the air, frantically looking for the source of the outburst. Even when she located it, her expression was no less surprised.“Hey Squirt, wassup?”

Normally Scootaloo might have tried to play it cool. Rainbow Dash never got flustered so she shouldn’t either. But she had been waiting all day to confirm what she fervently hoped was true. “Rarity thinks you aren’t going to adopt me, but that’s silly right?” Scootaloo blurted out. “I mean you are just waiting for me to learn how to fly, aren’t you?

Rainbow balked, visibly; stammering and flailing her hooves wildly before managing a coherent sentence. “What! Me adopt you?”

“Yeah, I had one of those stupid meetings with some ponies the other day and I told her that you were going to adopt me once I could fly so that you wouldn’t have to fly me up to your cloud house all the time.”

Scootaloo wasn’t making a lot sense but the overall theme of her visit was becoming distressingly clear. But this was no different than dealing with an oncoming storm, the best way not to get caught was to make a detour. “Okay, slow down squirt, How bout we just get some ice cream?”

Scootaloo looked up at Rainbow with wide, questioning eyes. Was Rainbow joking with her? Surely any second now she would burst out laughing with a “Just kidding squirt, of course you can come live with me once we get you flying. In fact, how bout we go practice right now?” And why was she offering ice cream? Scootaloo didn’t want dessert; she needed to know that Rainbow was going to adopt her. Scootaloo forced herself to remain calm. She had ambushed Rainbow, maybe her idol thought that Scootaloo was asking to be adopted today? That had to be it; this was just a small misunderstanding. Once Rainbow realized that she was just checking in on their unspoken arrangement she’d of course confirm her intentions. “Ummm, I still can’t fly but I’m working really hard at it,” Scootaloo said, hoping that her clarification made up for her sudden outburst.

As Rainbow sat on her lofty perch, looking down at the filly staring up at her she feveriously tried to remember what Rarity had told her, She’s profoundly unhappy, you can help her, and for the first time since she had met the kid, Rainbow was beginning to see how true that was. It was impossible not to feel for Scootaloo, but Rainbow also knew that letting your emotions make your choices was a good way to end up in an even worse situation.

Scootaloo clearly thought that Rainbow was going to adopt her at some point in the future, where she got that idea was a problem for another time. For now, Rainbow was just hoping to escape with both of their egos intact. She thought about lying, Yeah of course kid, once you can fly I’ll totally adopt you. It wasn’t true but it would make Scootaloo feel better. And maybe she’d never fly, or maybe she wouldn’t want Rainbow to adopt her later. She also thought about being brutally honest, I’m not adopting you, ever. It’s not your fault, I just don’t want kids. But she was too loyal to do the former and too cowardly to do the later.

It was nice having Scootaloo look up to her, telling her how awesome she was, really nice. If there was anyway to keep that dynamic, Rainbow wanted to try. She gently hopped down off her cloud and again attempted to sidestep the question. “I know you are, squirt. Don’t worry, you’ll get there.”

When Rainbow didn’t add anything to her last sentence she could feel the tension in the air grow oppressively thick. Scootaloo continued to look up at her, waiting for something, anything that would indicate that Rainbow was just waiting for the right time to swoop down and save her.

Rainbow scratched at her forelegs, a nervous tick she had developed. “I wanna be your sister, but sisters don’t take care of each other, not like moms do,” Rainbow tried, hoping the distinction between family members would work in her favor.

“Apple Bloom’s sister takes care of her. And Rarity takes care of Sweetie Belle sometimes,” Scootaloo responded, the ache in her chest growing sharper with each passing moment. She found it becoming more difficult to breathe, and she felt her throat close up forcing her to take several deep breaths to avoid turning blue.

“Well yeah, but only when her parents aren’t around,” Rainbow said, instantly wishing she could take it back, fully aware of the trap she just walked herself into.

Scootaloo’s heart started to race faster, her voice rising.“My parents are never around! I don’t even know who they are!”

Another moment passed, and a precipice was crossed. Scootaloo was clearly too dogged for Rainbow to continue to avoid the question. She could fly away, or make up some emergency, but that would just be a “no” in a different form.

“Scoots, you don’t really know what you’re asking here,” Rainbow said softly, a last gasp prayer at trying to spare Scootaloo’s feelings. It really wasn’t the squirt’s fault, Rainbow thought. If she ever did have a kid she’d want that kid to be just like Scootaloo. But no matter how awesome the squirt was, she was a child and children just weren’t in her future.

Scootaloo’s face contorted into several distressing positions, her emotions easy to read. The tension she had been holding in began to coalescing into a sickening ball of self-loathing.

Evidently, even Rainbow Dash couldn’t overlook the terrible flaw that everpony else obviously saw in her. “I thought you were different! Well, I don’t need them and I don’t need you!” Scootaloo screamed through the tears now flowing freely down her cheeks.

Before Rainbow could reply Scootaloo jumped on her scooter and furiously sped away, leaving Rainbow wondering if following her was really the best idea.

What Did You Do?

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One of the hardest parts of being a fashionista was balancing the pressures of immediacy within an ever-changing medium. Clients wanted the latest fashions and they wanted them now. But dresses took time to make. They needed to be designed first, then came experimenting with fabrics and colors, because pieces often looked different as they transitioned from the page to the real world. And after that transition they still needed to be sewn and tweaked so that they were perfect; and all of that need needed to be finished before the current trends ended; lest a designer be stuck with last season’s dresses taking up valuable retail space.

So, to satisfy clients for whom time was paramount while still offering whatever the flavor of the month was, Rarity had developed a few tricks. One, of course, was to keep an eye on the fashion world so that she might predict which way style trends were likely to break. Prance and Marelan being two hotspots that kept her attention. The other was to try and ensure all her designs had a timeless elegance to them; clean lines and complementary colors looked good no matter what season it was. Between those two things and some salesmareship Rarity could usually satisfy whoever ran into her shop urgently demanding the latest fashion for an event taking place tomorrow night.

“Subtle is in this year, and those vines with the small pink flowers would accent your eyes nicely,” Rarity said as she tried to persuade her latest customer that the dress she was holding was indeed what she was looking for.

Before the mare considering the dress could respond, their conversation was interrupted by the sound of a door slamming. Rainbow Dash burst into the showroom of the Carousel Boutique, nostrils flaring. “What did you do!” she shouted.

Rarity managed to restrict her anger at both the entrance and the accusation to a smile through gritted teeth. “Hello, Rainbow. As you can see, I’m with a client right now. Perhaps we could talk about this in a few minutes?” she said, barely opening her mouth lest her faux smile be proven false.

In response, Rainbow turned her attention to the very surprised mare still holding the pink flower accented silver dress. “Hey you, her dresses suck.”

“Excuse me!” Rarity choked out as she visibly recoiled from such an uncouth characterization of her stellar work.

Rainbow ignored the accusatory tone in her friend's voice and kept talking. “Yeah, they’ll fall apart the second you leave the shop. You’re better off buying from Filthy’s Barnyard Bargains.”

“I assure you that—”

“Nope, they suck,” Rainbow said with an emphatic shake of her head.

The mare holding the dress quickly backpedled toward the door before she became a witness to a crime. “I can come back later,” Rarity’s now ex-client stammered, before beating a hasty retreat.

As soon as the door closed, Rarity flared her horn and flipped the sign so that the “closed” side faced the street. She fixed Rainbow with a decidedly hostile glare, furrowing her brow and grinding her hoof into the carpeted floor. “You just cost me a sale, probably a client, and you damaged my sterling reputation, which I have worked very hard to maintain!” she shrieked, no longer needing or wanting to hide her emotions.

Rainbow snorted. “It’s not so fun when someone messes with your life, is it?”

Rarity, rubbed her temples with both hooves and let out an exasperated sigh.“I swear, I have no idea what you could possibly be talking about.”

“Scoots came to talk to me today,” Rainbow said, figuring that explanation was all that was necessary.

Rarity’s voice softened as she imagined how that conversation must have gone. Between Scootaloo’s simple adoration and Rainbow’s startling lack of decorum it wouldn’t have surprised her if it went even worse than she had imagined. “That needed to be done,” Rarity whispered, unable to maintain eye contact with the mare standing in front of her.

“You needed to tell her I wanted to adopt her?”

Rarity’s head jerked sharply upwards. “I did no such thing!”

“Then where did she get the idea from, huh?”

“From you! You uncultured boorish narcissist!”

Rarity’s accusation left Rainbow visibly shaken. So much so that she sat down on her haunches until she remembered that she was still angry. She stood back up and resumed her yelling. “What the hay are you talking about? I never said I was going to adopt her, I didn’t even know she wanted to be adopted until you told me.”

“Hmph, imagine that, you were too busy thinking about yourself to notice what somepony else wanted! I’m shocked,” Rarity said, sarcasm dripping from the last two words.

Rainbow rolled her eyes, having heard Rarity’s insult too often for it to have any real effect. “Oh shut it. Who are you to make that call anyway, huh? Squirt and I had a good thing going and you’ve wrecked it.”

Who am I? I’m…. Well, I’m…

“I care about her,” she whispered, almost as though she was admitting it to herself as much as Rainbow. Rarity’s voice grew louder. “And until another option presents itself I am responsible for her.”

“Bang up job you’re doing there.” Rainbow sneered.

“At least I’m trying to help!” Rarity fired back.

But Rainbow refused to be cowed. She had thought a lot about Scootaloo since her last fight with Rarity and each time she came to the same conclusion, adopting her wouldn’t be fair to either of them. And she wasn’t being unreasonable by refusing to completely upend her life no matter how much Rarity tried to guilt her. Rainbow jabbed a hoof accusingly toward Rarity “No, you don’t get to pin that on me. We’ve been over this, you want my help, let me know what I can do. But I can’t adopt her, Rarity.”

Rarity lowered her head, trying to make eye contact so that Rainbow could register the concern in her voice. “Can you even imagine what it's like to feel as though nopony loves you. That’s what she’s going through,” she answered.

“Yeah, it's sad. But that isn't my responsibility!” Rainbow paused as she let Rarity’s words sink in. She really couldn’t imagine what it was like to feel well and truly alone in the world, but that didn’t change her belief that adopting Scootaloo would create more problems than it solved, for Scoots as well as her. “I do love her, but like a sister y’know?” she added, her voice more subdued now.

Rarity was forced to concede that she had been a little hard on Rainbow these past few days. Though if she had been it was only because the emotional stakes warranted it. She nodded, hoping her eyes conveyed some level of understanding that words couldn’t express. “I know, but I don't think you understand how much she loves you. All she wants is for you to adopt her, to love her. And when the idea that you might not came up, I don’t think she knew how to handle it.”

“Is that what you did? You just told her I didn't want to adopt her, out of the blue?” Rainbow asked, almost in disbelief.

Rarity considered whether Rainbow’s accusation had any merit. Thier conversation hadn’t exactly been “out of the blue” and she didn’t actually say the words Rainbow doesn’t want to adopt you. “Not exactly, no... but it's true, isn't it?”

“Yeah... but… she's not my responsibility,” Rainbow mumbled.

“Quite right, for the time being she's mine.” A troubling thought entered her head. Rainbow was here, Scootaloo was undoubtedly upset, but where was she? The question needed an answer. “Where is she?”

Rainbow shrugged apologetically. “I don’t know, she ran off.”

Rarity’s eyes grew wide as her heart started to race. “You let an emotionally traumatized filly just run away?”

“What was I supposed to do? It didn’t seem like she wanted to talk to me anymore.”

Rarity grunted a most un-lady like grunt. She couldn’t exactly argue with that thanks to her own experiences with being on Scootaloo’s “no talking” list. But as stubborn as the orange filly could be, it wouldn’t help solve any of the problems Rainbow, and maybe herself, had just created if they let her just wallow in self pity.

“We need to find her.”

Where Do I Belong?

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Despite their differences neither Rainbow nor Rarity were so angry with each other to put their feud ahead of Scootaloo’s welfare. The idea that she needed to be found hung in the air, not so much because it was controversial but because neither pony knew what to say next.

“Do you think she went to the clubhouse?” Rarity asked. Rainbow had seen her last, so maybe she would have some insight as to where the little filly might have went, even if just the direction she was last heading.

Rainbow snorted a derisive snort. “Yeah, because when I’m upset I go to the first place I know all my friends will look for me.”

“Then where is she?”

Rainbow prepared to fire off another sarcastic response, but she couldn’t come up with one. Instead she carefully considered the question. Squirt was hurting and it was, at least in some respects, her fault; that meant she owed it to the little firecracker to help. As she reflected on the question at hoof, it occurred to her how little she actually knew about Scootaloo, the revelation making her shiver with a healthy dose of guilt. And because she really didn’t know that much about the little filly who needed her right now, she didn’t even know where to begin to look for her. Everypony always said how much Scootaloo was like her, if they were right, maybe whatever similarity everypony saw applied here as well.

Rainbow forced herself to take a hard look inward, the process almost foreign. She spent much of her mental energy pushing down negative emotions, walling them off so they could do no harm, but now she needed the insight that only those troublesome feelings could provide. Not just to know how Scootaloo felt, but to find what exactly those feelings might drive her toward. Betting that Scootaloo carried a similar burden, she reached inward to touch the pulsating blob of fear and sadness, mixed with guilt, regret and shame that she kept hidden from the world.

She winced as the rotting, sticky blackness came into contact with her conscious mind. The feeling was horrible; there was simply no other word to describe it. Every doubt she ever had, and every insult she ever shrugged off hammered her ego, beating it into a small shell of it’s usual outsized self. She wanted to run, every instinct she had screamed at her. You’re not good enough, you don’t matter and you’re definitely not worthy of your friends. “She’ll go somewhere that matches how she feels,” Rainbow whispered. “It will be dark and scary, because she doesn’t feel like she deserves the sun’s rays. And it will be isolated. She doesn’t want to be found.”

Rarity reached out and placed a comforting hoof on her friend's shoulder. “The Everfree Forest?” she said, that being the only place she could think of that matched Rainbow’s distressing characterization.

“Maybe, the caves near Ponyville Lake are another option. That’s where I’d go,”Rainbow said with a sad shrug of her shoulders.

“We should split up. The lake is closer. I’ll go there; you get Fluttershy and search the forest,” Rarity said, doing her best to keep her voice level. She already had one troubled pegasus to worry about, she didn’t need another.

Rainbow didn’t argue, instead carefully shutting the door on the feelings she had just invited in. A few deep breaths and a cocky smile later, she felt a little more like the Rainbow Dash she presented to the world. “On it!” she said with a wink, before speeding away, a familiar multi colored wake trailing behind her. Rarity locked the door to the Boutique and quickly hurried in the opposite direction.

As Rarity trotted at a brisk pace toward the lake, she found herself hoping that Rainbow’s instincts were wrong and that Scootaloo was in the Everfree Forest. Despite thinking about it the whole way, she really had no clue what she would say to Scootaloo if she found her. Yes, she had a penchant for being overdramatic at times, and her life wasn’t all caviar and moonbeams; but the rejection Scootaloo was dealing with was something so alien, so unbelievably inconceivable, that for the first time in her life, Rarity wasn’t sure she knew what to say.

A few meters away from the lake that abutted ponyville existed a series of small caves once used by Timberwolves, though now largely abandoned. There were maybe twenty of them, ranging from the size of a small hovel to a few that could comfortably fit an Ursa Minor. Rarity listened carefully but no sound could be heard emanating from anywhere. Remembering Rainbow’s words, Rarity poked her head in the smallest cave she could see, but it was empty.

The next cave contained a multitude of cobwebs and Rarity furiously pawed at her mane trying to get them off her before confirming that it too was empty.

It took a few more small caves before Rarity found who she was looking for. She poked her head in and a trembling orange ball looked up at her. Almost immediately, the little filly turned to run away, but her choice of alcove left her nowhere to go. Instead she used her tail as a shield, interspersed between her and Rarity, and pressed herself as close as she could to the cold cave wall.

Rarity breathed a sigh of relief. Scootaloo’s eyes were bloodshot, that was to be expected, and her nose was runny. Her coat was caked with a thick layer of dust and she was clearly frightened and miserable, but she wasn’t physically hurt as far as Rarity could tell. The most troubling aspect was the listlessness that pervaded what few movements she made. There wasn’t even a trace of joy in her eyes, not even the defiant spark that Rarity was used to seeing. This was clearly a Scootaloo for whom the world held nothing but empty platitudes and broken promises.

Rarity gingerly took a few steps forward, her movements deliberate and gentle.

She didn’t say anything at first, instead opting to sit down a few feet from where Scootaloo had taken up residence. One thing Rainbow had been right about was that the cave Scootaloo choose could hardly be more depressing. Despite the bright sun shining in the sky, very little light managed to find it’s way inside. The air was damp, and thanks to the layer of dust on the ground as well as the lack of air circulation, stuffy didn’t begin to describe the ambiance. Rarity ignored all of that and tried to focus on the pegasus sitting in front of her, who was staring at her with a pitiful expression. “I know you’re disappointed in Rainbow right now, but give her time,” she said, hoping to begin what was most likely going to be a very hard healing process.

Scootaloo shook her head slowly, her previous expression morphing into something that looked more like guilt. “It’s not her fault. If I were the coolest pegasus ever I wouldn’t want some flightless loser dragging me down,” Scootaloo replied in between sniffles.

“That’s not it at all, dear,” Rarity whispered as her heart broke at Scootaloo’s characterization of herself.

Scootaloo slumped down against the cave wall, the effort of sitting up apparently too much for her right now.
“No, it’s fine. I know there’s something wrong with me.”

“Scootaloo, there is nothing wrong with you, aside perhaps from you being covered in dirt, but that can be remedied with a shower,” Rarity said in a futile effort to make Scootaloo smile. But Scootaloo’s expression remained morose. Rarity stopped herself from another attempt as she realized that Scootaloo didn’t need to be humored right now, but wallowing in a dank cave wasn’t going to do either of them any good either.

“I might as well stay here, in this stupid cave down in the stupid dirt,” Scootaloo said, looking away from her temporary guardian.

“Goodness no, you don’t belong here.”

“I don’t belong anywhere…”

In response to Scootaloo’s declaration Rarity flared her horn, bathing the cave in a diffuse light. With the glow emanating from her horn the cave looked less like a pit of despair and more like just another rock formation. “Come, let’s go home,” she said softly. For now it seemed the best thing she could offer Scootaloo was a shower and a bowl of ice cream.

Scootaloo stood up, her legs wobbling, the emotional ordeal of the day having left her weak. Quickly she was encapsulated in a magic bubble and set gently on Rarity’s back. She started to protest but was quickly cut off.

“Oh hush. It’s not a short walk, and you’re clearly quite exhausted,” Rarity said, ending any further discussion about how Scootaloo would get back to the Boutique.

Scootaloo didn’t have the energy to fight back even if she wanted to. In a small way Rarity kind of wished she would, it would be a sign that the bold, brash Scootaloo she knew was somewhere within the dejected little pony silently clinging to her, forelegs wrapped around her neck.

The pair arrived back at the shop and Rarity kneeled so Scootaloo could climb down off her back. “I do believe you might feel better after a shower,” she suggested. In response Scootaloo only trudged upstairs without saying a word.

Rarity heard the sound of water running for a few minutes and then she heard nothing coming from upstairs. As she pondered over what else she could possible say her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of her front door slamming.

“I can’t find her, Rarity! Fluttershy and I looked everywhere!” Rainbow Dash practically screamed, the panic in her voice readily apparent.

Rarity held up a hoof in an effort to placate her friend. “You were right, Rainbow. She was in the caves near the lake. She’s in her room now.”

“Is she okay?” Rainbow asked quieter, but no less panicked than she had been a minute ago.

Well that’s a complicated question isn’t it? “She’s physically fine. But she’s hurting emotionally, Rainbow Dash. And you, like it or not, may be the only pony capable of helping her.”

Rainbow trembled, staring down at the ground. “I can’t adopt her, Rarity… I just can’t. It wouldn’t work.”

For the first time since this whole thing started Rarity didn’t argue. She watched Rainbow confront her own fears to help Scootaloo, and the pain in her previous statement led Rarity to believe that her refusal was not borne of selfish desires. “I understand, dear. But maybe you could let her know that just because you can’t adopt her, doesn’t mean you don’t care about her,” Rarity offered.

“Like she even cares about what I think right now,” Rainbow said, her voice laced with an ironically familiar self loathing.

“Most ponies wouldn’t, she does. She doesn’t blame you Rainbow Dash, she blames herself for not being good enough for you.”

Rarity’s words hit Rainbow like a tree she didn’t see coming and she was promptly knocked off her hooves, sitting down from the shock. “Oh.”

“A few kind words from you would do wonders for her spirit,” Rarity suggested softly.

“Yeah sure I can do that… I think,” Rainbow said, still firmly rooted to her spot at the foot of the stairs.

“She’s in the upstairs bedroom.”

“Right,” Rainbow said, glancing upstairs before slowly rising to her feet. With Rarity wordlessly encouraging her she went upstairs only to see the door to the bedroom slightly ajar. She took a deep breath to steel her nerves and stepped inside.

She found Scootaloo staring at the pictures on the wall. That most of them depicted her was not lost on the larger pegasus. A brief look of surprise flashed across her face as Scootaloo turned to see who had entered her room, but then she turned away, more interested in the two dimensional crayon Rainbow Dash than the real thing.

“I guess I haven’t really been a good sister, huh?” Rainbow scratched at her forelegs and bit her lip as she struggled to think of something else to say. “Listen Scoots… why didn’t you tell me any of this? I mean I could have helped, I could have done… something.”

For the first time since Rainbow had walked in, Scootaloo dared to look directly at her. “If I had told you earlier you would have adopted me?” she asked, her tone tinged with painful heartache.

Rainbow sighed, Scootaloo apparently wasn’t going to make this easy on her. “No… but that doesn’t mean I don’t love you,” she added quickly.

“Yeah,” Scootaloo replied, but it was clearly nothing more than a rote response.

“You’re too young to understand this right now, but I’d make a terrible parent.”

Scootaloo shook her head and sniffled. She knew about terrible parents, there was no way Rainbow could ever fit that description. It would be like someone calling Pinkie boring. “No you wouldn’t. You’re the most awesome pony in the history of ponies.” Rainbow was clearly lying to her to spare her feelings, the problem was on her end, where it always was. “I’d be an okay kid. I promise to try really hard and do my chores and go to bed on time-” Scootaloo said, trying to guess at whatever her previous parents clearly found so intolerable about her.

Before Scootaloo could finish her list of promises, Rainbow hurried to close the gap between them, and wrapped Scootaloo a fierce hug, squeezing her tightly. It was an uncommon display of emotion for Rainbow Dash, but one she couldn’t help. She lowered her snout and gently placed it under Scootaloo’s, lifting both noses slowly, keeping the orange filly firmly in her grip. “Listen kid, we’re going to find you a family and when we do you tell them that you’re part of a package deal. You tell them that you come with a big sister and that she loves you and that she’s going to be spending a lot more time with you from now on so they should clear some space on your calendar.”

For Scootaloo it was more than she expected but significantly less than she hoped for. Rainbow’s words were like antiseptic on a gaping wound, painful for a few moments, but ultimately soothing. The hurt was still there but at least it didn’t feel quite so raw. It was also hard to ignore the fact that Rainbow was holding her, the way a mom might. She snuggled further into the embrace. For a brief moment she felt safe. Felt loved. “Hey, Rainbow Dash?” she asked, looking up again with impossibly wide eyes.

“Yeah, Squirt?”

“What’s wrong with me?” she squeaked, too embarrassed to keep the previously established eye contact. “I know you don’t want to adopt me and that’s fine… I guess. But maybe if I can fix whatever ponies don’t like about me, I’ll find somepony who will.”

Rainbow could only squeeze Scootaloo again. “There’s nothing wrong with you,” she whispered. “You’re an awesome little pony, and I’m sorry that I don’t tell you that enough.”

“Yeah, that’s what Rarity said,” Scootaloo muttered to the floor as she broke away.

“Well she’s right. I may not agree with Rares about a lot, but we agree on that.”

“Yeah right,” Scootaloo scoffed. “I can’t even fly.”

“Flying is-” Rainbow paused, there was no sense in pretending that flying wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. “Flying is great kid, but it’s not going to make you awesome. Remember what I told you? Maybe you’ll fly and maybe you won’t, you’re all kinds of awesome anyway.”

“Not awesome enough to be adopted,” Scootaloo muttered.

Rainbow narrowed her brow and glared as gently as possible at her sister. “Hey! Any parents would be lucky to have you, you hear me. Lucky!”

“So why can’t it be you?” Scootaloo asked, daring to look Rainbow in the eyes again, painful as it was.

Rainbow sat down and spoke quietly, hoping that Scootaloo could hear the sincerity in her voice. “It’s like I told you, I don’t know how to take care of a pony Scoots. I have a pet tortoise I forget to feed and he only eats once a day. I’m a lousy cook and I can’t really help you with your homework, or at least I won’t be able to when you get older.” Rainbow sighed, those things were all true but also kind of irrelevant. She needed to get at the heart of the matter. “You deserve better squirt, you really do.”

Her statement delivered she stared intently at Scootaloo, looking for any sign that the filly understood what she was saying, a furrowed brow, or maybe a nod, but the filly’s face remained frustratingly blank. Scootaloo looked toward her, then over at the wall of Rainbow Dash pictures then finally back at her again, her expression a perfect mask.

“We’re still sisters right?” she mumbled.

Rainbow could only offer Scootaloo another hug. “Package deal.”

Rarity paced back and forth over a now very well worn patch of carpet in her living room. There was no yelling coming from upstairs, but there were also no other indicators about how Rainbow's efforts were going either. Finally she heard a set of soft hoofsteps. Rainbow entered her living room looking shaken. “I’m, umm, sorry what I said about your dresses,” she said. They don’t suck. I still have the one you designed for the gala. If I ever went to fancy parties I’d wear it. If you want I could try and find that pony I scared off earlier, maybe tell her that I was just angry at you.”

Rarity couldn’t help but laugh. In retrospect, and only in retrospect, the whole thing was kind of funny. “That’s sweet of you to offer, but I think my reputation can survive one unfounded rumor.”

Rainbow nodded, a gesture of contrition. The events of the day apparently behind them both ponies turned their focus to the filly upstairs. “So, now what?”

“Truthfully, I have no idea.”

Ice Cream

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Rainbow Dash and Rarity stayed at the foot of the stairs for a few more moments, both of them sneaking a furtive glance toward the guest room.

“She’s really hurting, isn’t she, Rares?” Rainbow said, finally breaking the silence.

“Yes, Rainbow, she is.”

Rainbow sighed, “Why do you think she hasn’t found anyone who wants to adopt her? She’s an awesome little filly, I can’t believe that there’s no one in Ponyville who has room for her in their lives.” Verbalizing the idea of how lonely Scootaloo must feel made her wince and she turned her attention back upstairs.

As Rarity sat listening to her friend’s pondering, it occurred to her Rainbow didn’t talk much about her family; she mentioned her dad on occasion but never her mother. She didn’t want to pry so she never pressed the issue, but her own private theory was that Rainbow was so steadfastly loyal precisely because she knew the painful sting of being let down by someone you placed your trust in.

In another situation Rainbow finally realizing what she had been struggling with would have given her some small measure of satisfaction. As it was, Rarity could only place a gentle hoof on Rainbow’s shoulder in an effort to sympathize. “I know that wasn’t easy for you dear. Thank you for talking with her.”

“Yeah sure. Hey listen, I know we haven’t exactly been on the best of terms lately—”

Rarity scoffed, “That’s an understatement.”

A quick glare from Rainbow silenced her and Rainbow continued. “Yeah, well look, if there’s anything I can do, I want to help. I just… I hate not knowing what to do! There's gotta be something I can do to help fix this! Maybe—maybe I can help cheer her up somehow? What if I take her flying tomorrow?”

Rarity paused to consider the offer; under normal circumstances she would have agreed that going flying with Rainbow would cure whatever ailed Scootaloo, but these were anything but normal circumstances. “While I appreciate the thought, I’m not sure that’s the best idea right now.”

“So what am I supposed to do, just leave her hanging? That’s not my style.” Rainbow waved a hoof two inches in front of Rarity’s snout. “Hello, Element of Loyalty here!”

In response Rarity batted away the annoying intrusion into her personal space. “I am acutely aware of that. But, I think that right now, she needs some time to digest everything. She's been through quite a lot today. We all have.”

Rainbow could only sigh in agreement. Rarity wasn’t wrong, and that infuriated her. She was used to solving her problems instantly, mostly by kicking them. Not that there was an Element of Patience, but if there was it definitely would not have gone to her.

“You should go get some sleep dear. I'll make sure she is taken care of tonight. I do thank you for all of your help today.” Rarity said, interrupting Rainbow’s train of thought.

“Are you sure there’s nothing else I can do?”

“Yes dear, I’m sure.”

Rainbow studied her friend for any hint of deception, but finding none she was forced to concede that she was pretty worn out from the day’s events. “Alright,” she said, reluctantly walking to the door. One last thought hit her before she left. “You're a lot better at this taking care of kids thing than I am.”

“ I... thank you,” Rarity stammered, visibly taken aback by Rainbow’s statement.

“No problem, Rares. Let me know when she's feeling better, okay?”

“You’ll be the first to know,” Rarity said, regaining some of her composure.

With one temperamental pegasus in her life temporarily taken care of, Rarity went upstairs to check on the other one. She gently knocked on the door to Sweetie's room; after hearing a small shuffle, she opened the door slowly. The room was perfectly still; the only hint that there was any occupant was a small tuft of purple mane protruding from a lump underneath the blankets.

Sweetie’s—Scootaloo’s—the guest room felt cold. Despite all the windows being closed there was a distinct chill wafting through the air, Rarity thought. “Scootaloo?” she whispered, lest she wake up a sleeping filly. Her question evoked no response, but the silence led her to believe Scootaloo hadn’t quite fallen asleep. “If there's anything you need, please don't hesitate to let me know.”

There only response was the unmistakable sound of Scootaloo's stomach growling.

“When did you eat last?” Rarity asked gently.

Finally Scootaloo poked her head out from under the covers. She shrugged her shoulders but offered no words.

“How about some ice cream?” Rarity offered, remembering her thought back in the cave. Scootaloo still didn’t say anything, but at the another growl of her stomach prompted her to climb out of bed.

The pair made their way wordlessly to the kitchen. Almost everypony knew that Rarity was an expert in fashion. What significantly fewer ponies realized was that she was also an expert in using ice cream as an emotional balm. The psychologically restorative properties of ice cream were not, in fact, universal across flavors, Rarity believed. For disappointment one should seek comfort in the satisfying familiarity of chocolate ice-cream. For minor aches and pains such as a friend canceling plans, some form of vanilla was most likely in order. And for heartache the levels that Scootaloo was feeling, only the inherent joy of chocolate chip cookie dough would do.

“Would you like to talk about it?” Rarity asked after she had given Scootaloo a few minutes to seek solace in a bowl of ice cream.

Scootaloo tightened her grip on the spoon while refusing to look at the mare sitting next to her. “About what?” she asked hoping her false naiveté would work in her favor.

“About what's bothering you?”

“Nothing is bothering me,” Scootaloo said through gritted teeth, clenching the spoon so hard her hoof started turning red.

Scootaloo’s deflection evoked numerous memories of Sweetie making similar protest and in her case they were almost always followed with a “but-”. Instead of retorting that Scootaloo was liable to break the spoon if she squeezed it any harder, Rarity ignored the obvious lie and just waited for Scootaloo to recant.

Hearing no response the little filly looked up for a second before turning her gaze back to her bowl of ice cream. She sighed and let go of her spoon. “Rainbow doesn’t want me,” Scootaloo sniffled; those words hung in the air until she spoke again. “Whenever I had to leave I always told myself it didn’t matter because someday I’d move in with her and then my life would get better.” Another painful silence passed. “I just thought for sure that Rainbow Dash would want to adopt me. I thought that as much fun we have together, she would say yes... I mean, we're already sisters.”

“Being an honorary sister is one thing, but a caregiver is an entirely different role altogether,” Rarity answered, careful to try and not sound condescending.

“What about you and Sweetie Belle?” Scootaloo asked, looking up at Rarity with a heartbreaking sense of wanting clearly evident on her young face.

“What do you mean dear?”

“She stays here with you a lot. Aren't you kind of a caregiver then?"

Rarity balked and jerked her head back in surprise. She had never thought of herself as Sweetie Belle’s caregiver. Babysitter maybe, sister, absolutely, but not a caregiver. Nevertheless she couldn’t find fault with Scootaloo’s argument. “Well, I mean—yes,” she stuttered. “But it's just for visits or for when mother and father are on vacation,” she quickly added for clarification.

“What if something happened to them?”

“Scootaloo!” Rarity snapped. “That is a terrible thing to say.”

Scootaloo cowed her head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I just...if you had to take care of Sweetie Belle, like a parent, would you?”

“Of course I would, but—” Rarity said in a much more measured tone.

“It must be nice to have someone who would do that for you,” Scootaloo said sadly.

Rarity couldn’t think of anything to say in response, and that thought troubled her as much as Scootaloo’s pain. So instead she borrowed a page from the Rainbow Dash school of confrontation, changing the subject.

“I was thinking maybe tomorrow we go and find you a dance instructor?”

Scootaloo shrugged. “It’s not like it’s going to matter. No pony is going to adopt me because they like my dancing."

“I should certainly hope not, that sounds like an absolutely awful reason to adopt somepony,” Rarity said, hoping to lighten the oppressive pall that had been cast over the room.

Scootaloo titled her head and looked up at Rarity, who merely smiled warmly. She opened her mouth like she was about to add something but it turned out only to be a half hearted sigh. “Sure, whatever,” she muttered before letting out a rather large yawn.

“I think we could both use some sleep. It's been a long day, hasn't it?” Rarity said, stifling a yawn of her own.

“Yeah.” Scootaloo looked down at the brown syrupy remnants of her frosty treat. “Lemme just drink this.”

The request was followed by a loud slurping sound the creamy treat, which left a large white splotch on her muzzle.

“Oh, dear, you've got something- here, let me-” Rarity reached for the splotch, napkin in hoof. She preemptively paused as she anticipated Scootaloo's flinching and obligatory protest that she would “take care of it herself." Much to her surprise Scootaloo stayed still letting Rarity wipe her snout free of ice cream.

“I'll take care of these dishes. Go brush your teeth and I will be right back to tuck you in.”

This time Scootaloo’s independent streak did assert itself. “I don't need anypony to tuck me in,” she said rather defiantly.

“Very well then.”

Rarity quickly rinsed and dried the dishes with an assist from some very practical unicorn magic. Scootaloo brushed her teeth with a similar efficiency minus the magic, and the pair reunited upstairs to the guest room at roughly the same time.

“Is there anything else you need?” Rarity asked from the doorway as Scootaloo climbed back into bed.

“No.”

“Sweet dreams, Scootaloo. I will see you in the morning,” Rarity said with another smile.

As she turned to leave Rarity heard a small voice call out to her. “Rarity?”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry I made you run around all over the place today. And getting you muddy and dirty and stuff…”

Rarity turned around so that Scootaloo could see that she was sincere about her next statement. “It’s quite alright dear. I’m just glad you're safe.

Scootaloo didn’t say anything else and Rarity again took that as her cue to leave. Before she could close the door the small voice again called out.

“Rarity?

“Yes?”

“If you really wanted to, you could tuck me in…I guess.”

Rarity opened the door, flaring her horn slightly so that it might serve as a nightlight as she approached the bed.

“Of course, dear.”

Trust Me

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It was only exhaustion that led Rarity to sleep as well as she did. But the sound of her alarm going off roused her from her slumber and she was forced to drag herself out of bed. A large cup of coffee later she set about making breakfast.

Scootaloo was even quieter than usual during their morning meal, if such a thing were possible. If there was anything positive about her attitude it was that she didn’t seem sad, but that was countered by the fact that she could scarcely be said to be exhibiting any feelings at all; it was as if she just shut down her emotions.

Rarity didn’t press. Everything she had read said that sometimes children needed some space and this seemed like one of those times. Scootaloo wasn’t the most open pony on a good day and right now she was processing some pretty heavy emotions; therefore Rarity decided that the best thing she could do was demonstrate that she’d be there when Scootaloo was ready to talk.

After polishing off her bowl of oatmeal, Scootaloo trudged off to school, leaving Rarity alone in the boutique. Under normal circumstances, Rarity might have neglected her work in order to spend part of her day researching the various dance instructors in Ponyville, so that she might fulfill her promise to resume Scootaloo’s dance lessons. But as luck would have it, she already knew an excellent dance instuctor.

Toe Tapper was one of those infuriatingly talented ponies who was seemingly a natural at everything. He would be the first to protest that characterization, however. His lanky stature made it difficult for him to play most sports, for instance. And he would often joke that he couldn’t do even the simplest mathematics without a calculator; but neither of those things masked the fact that he was both a member of the Ponytones as well as a dance instructor. What he lacked in athletic or mathematical ability he made up for in a natural talent all things musical. His natural tenor allowed him to sing at either countertenor or baritone if a song required, and his innate understanding of rhythm made him proficient enough in dance to earn a living as a dance as well as music instructor. He could also play pretty much any musical instrument and was a fairly competent, if amateur, visual artist. If he wasn’t so nice and self-effacing, Rarity might have hated him.

She was under no illusion that resuming Scootaloo’s dance lessons would make her happy, the filly was carrying far too much baggage for that to be the case, but it was a small thing that she could do to brighten up Scootaloo’s life; that made it worth doing regardless of any other motivations.

School didn't hold much intrest for Scootaloo, though the lessons and her friends did give her something else to think about, and for that she was grateful. The crusaders left school as a trio, just like always; only this time instead of going to the clubhouse on Sweet Apple Acres to plan future crusades, do homework or just be friends, they found Rarity waiting for them just off the path that led to and from the schoolhouse.

“Hi, Rarity!” Sweetie called out as the fillies galloped over to her. “What are you doing here?”

Rarity wasn’t sure what she should say. On the one hoof, even if the crusaders didn’t know that Scootaloo liked to dance, it was hardly the kind of personal information that needed to be kept a secret. But Scootaloo was fiercely private and this was not the time to be damaging Scootaloo’s trust.

Thankfully Scootaloo answered for her before the silence became awkward. “Rarity and I have stuff to do. See you guys later?” Apparently satisfied with the vague answer, both fillies nodded and scurried off with a quick wave over their shoulders. “So why are you here?” Scootaloo asked warily once her friends were a safe distance away.

“Well I promised to find you a dance instructor and I think I have. Of course if you don’t like him we can try somewhere else.”

“Oh, I thought maybe this was more stupid adoption stuff,” Scootaloo said, brightening up just a tiny bit.

Rarity again wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so she settled on a gentle “Come dear,” and the pair began the short walk to Toe Tapper’s dance studio.

Though he was surprised to see his fellow ponytone outside of rehearsal and showing up unannounced at his studio, he enthusiastically waved Rarity and Scootaloo over with a big smile as they walked in the door.

There was nothing particularly distinguishing about the space that Toe Tapper used for his dance studio. The floors were wooden and well scuffed; the walls covered in mirrors so that students could gauge their form from multiple angles and a small table in the corner housed a stereo for playing music. That was it.

Rarity trotted over and gave Toe Tapper a perfunctory hug. “Toe Tapper, this is Scootaloo,” she said gesturing to the filly who had taken up residence just to the left of her back legs. “We’d like to sign up for dance lessons.”

The lanky, blue pony trotted around Rarity and offered Scootaloo a hoofshake. “It’s nice to meet you, Scootaloo. Have you ever danced before?”

“A little. I used to take lessons,” Scootaloo said, returning the shake, but unwilling to make eye contact.

Lots of little fillies took dance lessons to help improve their self esteem, so Toe Tapper was used to dealing with students who were a bit closed off, so Scootaloo's behavior was nothing he hadn't dealt with before. “Well it’s wonderful to have you back then. Maybe you’re ready for the advanced class; do you have a routine prepared?” he asked brightly.

Scootaloo sighed. “No. I guess you’d better put me in the beginner’s class,” she said with a sad shrug.

Scootaloo might have been willing to enroll in the beginner’s class, just happy to get to dance again; but Rarity was adamant that her talent was too great to be consigned to an entry level. “Could you please give us a moment?” she asked Toe Tapper.

Rarity and Scootaloo retreated to a corner of the room as the teacher busied himself with sweeping the studio floor. “Scootaloo, you’re a very talented dancer. I highly doubt that you belong in the beginner’s class,” Rarity said pointedly.

“But I don’t have anything prepared,” Scootaloo protested.

“The dancing you were doing the other day, was that a rehearsed routine?” Rarity asked.

“No, I was just fooling around.”

A smile began to form on Rarity’s face. “Excellent, I assume you can fool around to a different song?”

“Sure if I’m alone. But he teaches ponies how to dance.” Scootaloo stared down at the floor. “I’ll just embarrass myself,” she sighed. It was the same heartbreaking sigh Rarity had heard far too often.

Rarity used a hoof to gently push Scootaloo’s snout upwards, so that she might see the conviction in her next statement. “You are very talented Scootaloo. I promise you won’t embarrass yourself. Trust me.”

Trust me, it was a curious phrase. To most ponies it was merely two simple words meant to punctuate an opinion. But to Scootaloo it was a dare. Trust me, even though experience has taught you that anypony who utters those words will let you down. But there was something in Rarity’s smile, the same subtle warmth that Scootaloo had grown just the tiniest bit used to, that persuaded her that maybe Rarity really was different. That maybe she saw something in Scootaloo that no other pony could see.

Scootaloo took a deep breath, one last glance over at Rarity and approached Toe Tapper. “I don’t have anything prepared but I’d like to audition for the advanced class anyway. Do you have a song I can dance to?” she asked with the little remnants of confidence she was able to summon.

“Of course.”

Toe Tapper put on a song. It was a simple instrumental piece, mostly modern influences built around a classical foundation. It was the type of song played in dance classes throughout Equestria due to its even tempo and inoffensive melody. Scootaloo hadn’t heard it before but that didn’t matter; after a few moments of listening with her eyes closed she found what she was searching for; the beat.

All songs had a beat, an underlying rhythm that governed how the rest of the song fit together. Everything else, the melody the harmonics were all ornamentation on that steady pulse of a foundation. And as soon as Scootaloo found it she began to smile for the first time in days. One-two-three, one-two-three; step-turn-step, step-turn-step.

She started off slow, just moving in time with the song. But soon step-turn-step, became step-pivot-shimmy-turn-step-dip. Her whole body began to move in perfect syncopation. Feeling more confident she began to move faster. The turns becoming embellished with little flourishes like a stutter or a glide. Her front hooves swirled around independent from the steps with her back hooves, but throughout the entire song, her rhythm never faltered. One-two-three, step-turn-step.

As Rarity watched Scootaloo dance, pride welled up inside her. It felt similar to watching Sweetie’s play. She had played a small part in both performances, and watching her efforts contribute to a little filly’s success was gratifying in a way that few things were.

The song ended and Scootaloo stood in the middle of the room, panting with shallow breathes, the result of both nerves and physical exertion. After a long moment of silence Toe Tapper broke out in a polite but enthusiastic bout of applause, much to both Scootaloo’s and Rarity’s relief.

“That was wonderful!” he gushed. “Your form faltered a little in the middle, and your transitions could be smoother, but you’re certainly no beginner!” Scootaloo beamed at the praise, Rarity enjoying the smile on her face more than anything else. “Our advanced class meets Tuesdays and Thursdays after school, and every other Saturday at ten a.m.”

Scootaloo recoiled inwardly at the prospect of having to wake up early on a Saturday but that feeling was quickly smothered by her happiness at having achieved a small measure of validation. And for the first time since yesterday, she wasn’t thinking at all about Rainbow Dash or finding a family.

The rest of the week quickly became a routine. Scootaloo would go to school and Rarity would run the Boutique during the day. Scootaloo would come home, they would share a meal, sometimes more conversations than others and then sometimes Rarity would tuck Scootaloo in and other times Scootaloo would insist on doing it herself. And on Thursday Rarity walked Scootaloo home from dance if for no other reason than it gave her a chance to check in with Toe Tapper about an upcoming Ponytones rehearsal.

So it came as something of a surprise when a knock on the door on Saturday revealed Autumn waiting for her with a pensive expression on his face.

“Good morning Rarity. Is Scootaloo home?” the social worker asked.

“No, she’s with her friends this morning. I believe you could find them at Sweet Apple Acres,” Rarity replied.

At the news that Scootaloo wasn’t home Autumn released some of the tension he had been holding in his shoulders.

“Can I assume this is not a social call?” Rarity asked, noting his reaction. Her first instinct was that this was another one of those surprise inspections that he had warned about. Her next instinct was that he could be here to deliver some sort of terrible news, such as the family in Baltimare was demanding that Scootaloo move in with them. That didn’t seem likely, but she was also still very unfamiliar with all the possible scenarios involved with Scootaloo’s adoption.

“No, it’s not.”

“Then what can I do for you?”

Autumn took a deep breath, pausing before speaking. “Lilly and Treble would like to adopt Scootaloo.”

Saviors Complex

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A complex wave of emotions coursed through Rarity. Joy, fear, relief, anger, confusion, all were present in the swirling storm coalescing in her chest.

“Would you like to come in?” she stammered, hoping to buy herself some time before Autumn expected a coherent reaction. Rarity magically flipped the sign on her door to “closed” and Scootaloo’s social worker followed her wordlessly to the kitchen. Once there Rarity set about preparing some tea, thus continuing to avoid having to give a response.

“I’m here to talk about how you want to handle the transition,” Autumn said carefully, sitting down at the table. “Treble and Lily would like to break the news, and we think it’d be good if Scootaloo was ready to move in sooner rather than later. These things can be difficult, especially for Scootaloo, and the quicker we can make the process happen the easier it will be for Scootaloo to get adjusted.”

Rarity balked, the two tea cups she was levitating from the cabinet faltering in midair. She thought about her initial impression of both Lily and Treble. They didn’t seem to be terrible ponies; if they had been a pair of alcoholic child abusers then Rarity would have no problem digging in her heels, and she’d be entirely justified in doing so. But they weren’t. By all outward appearances, they were a loving couple looking to add a child to their family. Who was she to deny them that? And why would she want to?

Because Scootaloo seems happy here, well happier anyway. The idea that the Boutique might actually be the best place for the little orange pegasus began to take root. No, it wasn’t Rainbow Dash’s house, but she had begun to develop her own bond with Scootaloo. It was mostly poker based, but bedtime and dance lessons were part of it too. And if Rarity was being totally honest with herself, she found herself enjoying the psuedo mother role she had fallen into more than she thought she would.

Searching for a reason to preserve the status quo, she finally settled on one, while Autumn patiently drank his tea.

“Do you really think this is going to be any different than any of the other homes Scootaloo has moved into?”

Frustratingly Autumn didn’t answer the question. “It’s not my job to try and predict the future,” he said taking another sip of his tea. “They seem to be a kind, loving couple. I dug through their past with a fine toothed comb and found nothing that raised even the slightest red flag. If I thought they weren’t sincere about trying to be good parents I’d show them the door. But as far as I can tell, they are; that’s all I can ask for.”

“I’m sure you thought that about Scootaloo’s last foster parent, too,” Rarity replied, a little more snidely they she intended.

But Autumn ignored the dig and just nodded. “Maybe, but I don’t really have any other options.”

“What if you did?”

“Excuse me?” Autumn asked, putting down his cup of tea.

“What if there was another pony who wanted to adopt Scootaloo? What would happen?”

“That depends.” Autumn said carefully. He stopped himself before he went off on a tangent about the nuances of custody laws. “If there’s an honest dispute, two families that genuinely want what’s best for a child, the case is heard by an arbitrator. In this case I would make a recommendation as her case officer and Scootaloo would have to testify who she’d prefer to live with. Since my recommendation would be highly contingent on what she wanted, it’d basically be her choice.”

“I see.”

“Yes, but I don’t have two families vying to adopt her, I have one.”

Rarity found the words spilling out of her before she could even consider their full implication. “I’d like to adopt her.”

She wasn’t really expecting Autumn to gush with praise, Oh that’s wonderful. I know this is the best place for her, but she also wasn’t prepared for the reaction he did give. “No you don’t,” the stallion said fixing Rarity with a firm stare.

“I beg your pardon? Are you actually deigning to tell me what I do and do not want?” It was more a reaction to having her wishes challenged then honest anger, but Rarity still found herself grinding her hooves into the ground beneath the table.

If Autumn noticed the change in Rarity’s tone he didn’t say anything. “I’ve seen this before. A temporary foster parent grows a little bit attached, decides it’s up to them to save the child from some imagined horror, and volunteers to adopt even though they haven’t really considered what it’s going to mean. It’s called a savior complex, and it always ends with heartbreak. I will not put Scootaloo through that.”

This time Rarity was unable to conceal her anger. “I do not have a savior’s complex!” she shrieked, her nostrils flaring. “If I wanted to save something I’d go get myself involved in whatever imbroglio Twilight’s managed to get herself into. In fact, knowing Twilight I’ll probably be dragged into whatever is threatening Equestria this week, anyway!”

Being a social worker was not a job that came with a lot of “perks”. The hours were long and the pay was miserly. You were perpetually overworked and the work you did manage to get done was unlikely to result in fame or adoration. On top of that, it was pretty much guaranteed that you would encounter some truly horrific situations that would shake anyone’s faith in equinity. One only chose social work as a career because every so often there was a scared, helpless child whom only you could help, and you got to actually tangibly help them. Autumn’s first boss had taught him that the satisfaction of seeing a child grow up happy and healthy because of your actions had better be enough reward because it was likely to be the only one you got.

But there was one other thing Autumn enjoyed about his job, it gave him very thick skin. There was no good way to remove a child from a toxic home. Bad parents, even terrible parents, still loved their kids, albeit in a very hard to understand way. And like any pony would, they treated an attempt to take thier kids away as a grievous insult. No matter how carefully the situation was handled it resulted in a pony screaming at him with levels of rage and hatred that he was sure he would never be able to match about anything. And the child was often angry and scared to boot because he or she was being taken out of the only home they knew.

But when the knowledge that a pony would literally kill you if there was a weapons within forelegs reach hung in the air, and you had to compartmentalize that fact and respond calmly because responding with righteous anger would only bring more emotion and volatility to a situation that had too much of both; well once you did that a few times, someone being mildly perturbed at your word choice wasn’t a big deal.

Rarity just sat there, glaring daggers at him, waiting for him to respond.

He sighed; Rarity did have a point despite her emotional reaction. A temporary foster parent removing the temporary from their title wasn’t unheard of, and either way Rarity was a citizen asking to get the long process of adopting an eligible filly started. It was his job to do the due diligence, but he still needed to be sure that this was something Rarity really wanted, and right now it didn’t seem like she even knew that herself.

“I will consider your application, provided you take this week to really think about if this is what you want. You do that, come visit me next Monday and if you still want to adopt, we can talk about how to proceed.”

“Fine,” Rarity said using the same clipped manner she reserved for unruly stallions at after parties. “I trust that until we do meet you will delay whatever transition you have planned.”

“I will.”

“Well then, if there is nothing else…” Rarity said glancing toward the door.

Autumn nodded, again if he wasn’t used to ponies saying significantly worse things to him he would have been offended. “I’ll show myself out.”

Her boutique once again empty, Rarity sat in her parlor room, opting to keep the sign flipped to closed. She scooped Opal up in her hooves and carried her over to the couch, absentmindedly stroking her cat’s fur.

As much as she was loathe to admit it, she had uttered the words I’d like to adopt without really considering what that would mean. Rainbow’s objections, of all ponies, echoed in her head as she thought about her own reservations. I have plans, and none of them involve dragging a kid around with me.

Rarity didn’t have plans in the same way Rainbow did; in many ways she was already living her dream. She was the proprietor of her very own specialty dress boutique; ponies came from all over to order dresses designed and sewn by her. Canterlot was only a quick train ride away, and even going to Manehattan wasn’t particularly onerous journey. The reason she didn’t move to one of the bigger cities and open her shop in an area that was more accessible to her rich clientele was because she didn’t have to. She liked Ponyville, her family and friends lived there and her clients were perfectly happy to come to her for a fitting session. She had no doubt that if she moved to Manehattan tomorrow to open up a shop it would be a success, and because she didn’t have to wonder if she could hack it in the big city there was nothing particularly alluring about the bright lights.

But what if one day there was? She took two trips to Manehattan a year, one in the fall and one in the spring to participate in the fashion expos and galas that marked the changing of the fashion season. Two weeks out of fifty two didn’t seem like a reason to uproot her life. But if she adopted Scootaloo she wouldn’t just be making her own decisions she’d have somepony else's wishes to consider.

Then there was the fact that she would be a single mother, Scootaloo would most likely grow up without a dad.

Rarity took it for granted that she would meet a charming stallion and get married one day. But being a single mother with a small child was not a quality most stallions were looking for. And while she was sure that she wouldn’t want to be with any stallion who would reject her because she had a child, it was still an obstacle. And didn’t Scootaloo deserve a father of her own? If nothing else, Rarity was sure she could never fill that role.

It was no secret to anyone who knew him that Hondo Flanks had always wanted a son. So, when Pearl gifted him with two daughters instead he channeled all the energy he planned to use teaching his son how to play hoofball into being the best father to little girls he could be. He attended tea parties as the guest of honor and let his daughters paint his hoofs. Rarity had put bows in his mane and styled his tail, and he always wore a gigantic smile on his face while she did. The way his mustache still tickled when he offered her a nuzzle always brought her back to a simpler, happier time. Rarity loved her mom, but she absolutely adored her dad. If her own experience was anything to go by, depriving Scootaloo of that relationship seemed wrong somehow.

She looked at Opal, hoping for some form of reassurance but her cat remain fixated on the wall. If anything Opals's concern was that the petting seemed to have momentarily stopped. Autumn is right she thought; she needed think long and hard about this, before she committed to it.

Family

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Scootaloo pranced home from her first dance lesson, a faint sparkle in her eye as she tried to get in a few practice steps on the journey, and deciding to adopt Scootaloo was an easy choice.

Rarity watched Scootaloo fall asleep, her young mind momentarily free of worry for those few blessed moments between awake and unconscious, and deciding to adopt Scootaloo was a hard choice.

Scootaloo didn’t say much at dinner, opting to pick at her salad wordlessly, and deciding not to adopt Scootaloo was an easy choice.

Scootaloo adamantly refused to put her dishes in the sink, and deciding to not to adopt Scootaloo was a hard choice.

The week continued in that fashion with Rarity going back and forth bewteen the two choices, not unlike she did when she just couldn’t decide if a dress needed a touch of purple or a touch of blue. All too soon, it was Sunday night. Autumn’s one week deadline loomed, and Rarity was no closer to knowing what she wanted then she had been at the beginning of the week. She found herself at her parents’ house, hesitating before she knocked on the door. That she was visiting on a Sunday night wasn’t in and of itself unusual, but the reason for her visit obviously was different than the other fireside chats she had over the years.

“Rarity! Come in, dear,” her mother said with her usual cheerful demeanor. Pearl may not have been Pinkie Pie when it came to having a smile on her face, but she could come close. And even if she wasn't having the best day she always had a smile for her family.

Rarity made small talk with her mom for a few minutes, hearing about a new bread recipe she was excited about and talking about her plans for her upcoming winter line of gowns. Eventually, a natural lull in the conversation invited a brief silence, and Rarity opted to fill it with the main reason she had come over.

“Mom? How did you know you were ready to be a parent?”

Pearl’s eyes went wide and a smile crept across her face. “Am I going to be a grandmother?”

Rarity sighed as she realized that her mother was suffering the same misconceptions as Spike had. “Why does everyone assume- never mind. I’m not pregnant, but I am considering adopting Scootaloo permanently.” Rarity paused as she considered that, in a way, she wasn’t just making a decision for her and Scootaloo. She’d be inviting Scootaloo into her parents and Sweetie’s lives as well. Not that she expected any protest, but it was still something to consider. “So, I suppose that, yes, you would be her grandmother.”

Her mother looked at her, slightly bewildered, so Rarity quickly filled her in on everything that had happened over the past few weeks, including her present dilemma about whether to go through with the process. When Rarity finished her story, Pearl’s smile had returned. “That’s wonderful, dear, and very generous of you, but that’s not really a surprise.”

“Thank you, but I don’t even know if she wants to stay with me. All my hoofwringing may prove to be for naught. But if I may ask again, how did you know you were ready to be a mother?”

Her mother smiled a comforting sort of smile, the kind that mothers everywhere were well-versed in. “No one is ever ready to be a parent, dear. One day you wake up, and by the end of the day you have this tiny foal who you can’t imagine your life without. And then you just muddle through the best you can.” Her mother smiled again, an attempt at reassurance. “Your experience might be a little different then most mothers, but it’s still the same.”

Hearing that there wasn’t some magical moment wherein the universe gifted a pony with the knowledge and judgment necessary to be a good parent made Rarity feel a little better about her uncertainty. “No, that makes sense. Thank you.” Rarity offered her mother a hug as she reflected on the idea that, no matter how old she was, a hug from her mother helped make everything just a little more bearable. “Is Daddy home?” she asked breaking away.

“He’s in the den.”

“Marshmallow!”

“Hi, Daddy,” Rarity said smiling at the one pony who could possibly get away with nicknaming her after a puffy food product.

“What brings you by tonight?” Hondo asked, taking the time to pause the hoofball game he had been watching moments before.

“Daddy, did you enjoy going to my tea parties?”

Hondo’s head jerked back in surprise. He had been to a lot of tea parties but the last one of Rarity’s that he attended was ages ago. It seemed to be a little late to be worried about how it went. “Of course I did. I got to accompany the prettiest filly in all of Equestria,” he said with a large grin.

Rarity blushed slightly. “Thank you, Daddy, but seriously, I can’t imagine that you would choose to spend your free time sipping pretend tea and wearing a bow in your hair.”

Hondo chuckled audibly at the memory. Rarity could have been referring to any one of a number of tea parties she had insisted on getting him ready for, but it didn’t matter. He also wasn’t dense enough to think that Rarity was really feeling some sort of residual guilt for taking away his free time with tea parties. “What’s this about, Marshmallow?”

Again Rarity found herself telling the story of how Scootaloo came to live with her, her subsequent struggles in trying to make her happy and her present dilemma about adopting her. Then she arrived at the reason she had sought her dad’s particular insight. “I’m thinking of adopting Scootaloo, and well…we really don’t have very much in common. I was just wondering if she’d be happier with a family with whom she shared at least some interest with.”

“Would you have been happier if I knew more about dresses and tea parties?” Hondo asked with a tilt of his head.

Rarity responded with a shake of her head. “No, I wouldn’t want you to be anypony other than who you are.”

Hondo didn’t say anything, he just raised an eyebrow until Rarity came to the conclusion that they both knew was inevitable; families didn’t have to have anything in common other than being family. Rarity offered her father another nuzzle before leaving him to his sports.
Her first two family members had offered their support, now there was only one more voice she needed to hear from.

Sweetie’s brow furrowed in concentration. A bead of sweat trickled down her forehead and the pink tip of her tongue jutted out from the side of her mouth as both her horn and a book on the other side of the room radiated a green light. However, despite Sweetie’s considerable efforts, the book only levitated a few inches off the table before the green glow flickered and disappeared, causing the book to crash back down and leaving Sweetie gasping for breath.

“Hello, Sweetie.”

Sweetie Belle wheeled around and smiled at her big sister. “Hi, Rarity!” Sweetie said in between pants. “What are you doing here?”

“I realize that we haven’t been able to see each other much as of recent, and so I wanted to see how you were doing.”

“I’m still not very good at magic,” she said rather glumly. “How are things going with Scootaloo? She seems a bit happier, sometimes. But either way I’m trying very hard to be the best friend I can be, just like you said.”

“I know you are, dear, and I’m sure Scootaloo is very grateful for your efforts.” There was no good way to broach the next part. Sweetie’s opinion mattered to both her and Scootaloo, and that meant Rarity needed to phrase her next question carefully. “While we’re on the subject, how would you feel if I…well… if I adopted Scootaloo?”

Sweetie’s face lit up like a Hearthswarming tree, but then the expression quickly turned almost fearful. Finally a resigned determination asserted itself over the smaller unicorn’s features. Rarity could only watch, completely unaware of the thought process behind the rapid transformation.

“Sweetie?”

Sweetie took a deep breath. “I guess if you adopt Scootaloo we won’t get to spend as much time together,” she said looking down at the floor. “But that’s okay. If it means Scootaloo gets to be happy, then I want you to do it,” Sweetie said softly.

“Oh, Sweetie… c’mere, darling,” Rarity said, scooping her little sister into a hug and sitting down on the floor. Keeping her little sister snuggled close she continued. “You know, dear, I remember having a similar conversation with Mom and Dad when they told me I was getting a little sister.”

Sweetie’s face lit up again. “That was me!”

“Yes, it most certainly was.”

Sweetie shifted around so she was more comfortable, but still snuggled firmly in the embrace. “So what happened?”

“I’m afraid I wasn’t as magnanimous as you just were. I was so worried that Mom and Dad would be so busy with the new baby they would forget about me. I made up my mind right then that I was not going to like you, no matter what.”

Sweetie’s face fell. “Oh, did you change your mind?”

Rarity playfully nuzzled her little sister. “Yes, dear. You were the most adorable foal ever, with your big green eyes and little, chubby hooves,” Rarity said playfully pinching Sweetie’s still-squishy hoof. “I fell in love with you instantly.” Sweetie giggled and playful yanked her hoof away. “Anyways, Mom and Dad promised me that even though babies demanded a lot of attention they would always make time for me, and they did.”

“That was nice of them.”

“Yes, dear. So I am going to make you the same promise. No matter how busy I get, I will always have time for my precious little sister.”

Sweetie rested her head against Rarity’s soft chest fluff unable to think of anything else to say.

Rarity returned home much surer of herself then when she left. It wasn’t that her family had told her anything she didn’t already know, it was that they reminded her that the important thing was that family was there for eachother; and while she wasn’t sure about a lot of things related to motherhood, she was sure that she could be there.

The next morning, Rarity found herself at the Foal Services office. The fact that Scootaloo had spent the night insisting that she was fine and didn’t need anyone for anything did nothing to effect Rarity’s decision.

The receptionist escorted through the now familiar hallways back to Autumn’s office where the stallion was sitting at a desk covered in papers. Rarity wasn’t sure if any of the files near the top were Scootaloo’s but she wouldn’t have bet against it. Autumn looked up at her expectantly, waiting for her to speak first.

“I owe you an apology. The other day I was rude. You were just doing your job and, even if you weren’t, you were a guest in my home. That I treated you so coarsely is unbecoming of me as both a lady and a host.”

Rather than accept her apology with any sort of grace, Autumn started laughing. “You think that was rude?” Another round of laughter escaped his throat. “Sorry, but I’m used to ponies kicking me out in far less ambiguous language.”

“That still does not excuse my behavior,” Rarity said tersely.

Autumn got his reaction under control and nodded, stifling one last guffaw. “Very well, I accept your apology.”

“Thank you.”

“So, why are you here?” The question was loaded with enough weight to let Rarity know that Autumn was not merely making small talk.

“I’d like to adopt Scootaloo.” It wasn’t the first time Rarity had uttered those words, but it was the first time she said them fully aware of the weight they carried.

Autumn pulled a notepad out of his desk and grabbed a pen. “Why?”

“Because I think she might be happy with me. And if you, or Lily, or her disagree, then that’s fine. But I should at least be allowed to make the offer,” Rarity said reciting her planned response to the anticipated question.

"When we first met, you said very plainly that you had no interest in adopting her. What changed?"

Rarity anticipated this question too. "I got to know her better. And I learned somethings about myself too, one of them being that the idea of being a mother isn't as scary as I thought it would be."

“What about your career and your friends? Have you considered how they would change if this goes forward?” Autumn asked, not looking up from his notes.

“I imagine that my entire life would change quite a bit, though I suppose that would be true irrespective of this decision.”

“Are you prepared for that?”

“As well as anyone can be. I’m sure no one is completely ready to be a parent when they first start out.”

Autumn nodded, accompanying the gesture with a quiet “hmm” while continuing to take notes. “What would you do if one day Scootaloo came home with drugs?”

For the first time that morning Rarity balked at a question she was not expecting. “She’s eight! I don’t think I have to worry about that quite yet.”

“Just answer the question, please,” Autumn responded calmly.

Rarity fumbled around for a response, having not consider that drug use would be a question she was expected to know the answer to. “I would…I don’t know what I would do,” she finally said, giving up. “I’d like to say I‘d sit down and have a calm rational talk about why drugs are bad, but it’s entirely possible I’d freak out. So if you’re asking if I have a contingency for every mistake I might possibly make, then the answer is no.”

Autumn looked up from his notepad and smiled. “You passed,” he said finally putting down his pen.

“Passed what?”

“The two biggest mistakes I see prospective parents making are thinking they have all the answers, and believing that a child is going to fix something wrong with their lives. You seem to be avoiding those critical pitfalls. I’ve already done your background check; we both know it’s squeaky clean, and Scootaloo seems well cared for so far. So if you’d like to adopt her, you’re a strong candidate.”

While Rarity was inwardly glad that she had passed whatever preliminary screening Autumn had just threw at her, she also knew that that wasn’t her biggest obstacle. “What happens now?”

“Well that’s kinda up to to Scootaloo.”

"So how do we tell her?”

Hay Fries

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If it had been up to Rarity, she would have simply told Scootaloo of her wishes, Scootaloo would of course be elated, and the two could begin the difficult but rewarding adjustment process of becoming a family. But, like so many other things involved with Scootaloo’s living situation, Rarity found herself at the mercy of bureaucracy and protocol.

And in this case, protocol was that Autumn would talk with Lilly and Treble after their second visit with Scootaloo, scheduled for later that afternoon. If they still wanted to move forward after that, then Autumn would tell Scootaloo and ask for her input. The insistence that Autumn talk to Scootaloo without Rarity or Lilly present was done to ensure Scootaloo could make a decision without added pressure, as well as encourage her to be open and honest about her feelings.

So Rarity was sent home with explicit instructions not to talk to Scootaloo until she heard from Autumn. On the one hoof, she was sure that if she did inform Scootaloo of her intentions, Foal Services wouldn’t do something so rash as deny her application. But on the other hoof, breaking the rules for something so important felt wrong; so Scootaloo came and went from school and over during their conversations they talked about Sweetie Belle and dancing and poker and not one word about adoption was uttered.

There was one moment when Rarity was tucking Scootaloo in, and she looked at the orange filly snuggled under the covers and for a brief moment everything felt...perfect. And in that moment, not telling Scootaloo that she could stop searching for a home was one of the hardest things she ever had to do. But since she couldn’t, she settled for a “Goodnight, dear,” as she performed one last check to make sure that Scootaloo’s blanket was indeed secure.

The next day, Scootaloo was off at school, and Rarity was trying to focus on her upcoming winter line, albeit without much success. She was in the middle of trying to determine whether the raspberry ribbon would provide more contrast than the periwinkle ribbon in her left hoof when she heard a rapping sound from the other room.

That there was a knock on the door was the first sign that this wasn’t a standard customer visit. Customers just walked right in, invited by the “open” sign Rarity hung on her door. Curious as to who would bother knocking, Rarity trotted past her mannequins and opened the door only to be bewildered by the pair of ponies she saw standing there. It took her a few moments to place them as the ponies she watched Scootaloo play chutes and ladders with a few weeks ago.

“Can we talk?” Lilly asked from the doorway, her husband standing silently off to her right.

“Of course. Would you like some tea?” was the only response Rarity could think of.

An uncomfortable silence hung in the air as Rarity focused intently on getting cups and saucers out of her cabinet and rifling through her pantry for some appropriate brunch tea. Eventually the water boiled, the tea had steeped and everypony had run out of excuses to avoid talking.

“So, what can I do for you? Can I assume you don’t wish to buy a dress?” Rarity asked sliding two cups of freshly brewed tea over to her “guests”.

“Yes, it’s well...it’s about Scootaloo,” Lilly said cautiously.

“I assumed as much. I must say I am surprised to see you here. Autumn led me to believe that we wouldn’t be having any contact.”

“Yes, but we thought that maybe we could save each other a lot of time and headaches if we just talked pony to pony.”

“After all, we all just want what’s best for Scootaloo,” Treble added.

Rarity found herself bristling at Treble’s addendum and she wasn’t sure why. She didn’t know much about them, but they had to be decent enough ponies to have made it this far past Autumn’s screening process. So the idea that they also cared about Scootaloo shouldn’t bother her, but it did. Not because of anything involving their intentions, but rather because it suggested that they shared the same level of concern for a filly they just met as she did for that same filly who had been living with her for the better part of a month.

“We were told that you were her temporary foster mother and that you were taking care of her until a permanent home could be found,” Lilly said, continuing to let her tea cool.

“Yes, well strictly speaking that is still true; I just think her permanent home should be here,” Rarity said taking a sip of her own tea, perhaps as a small rebuke.

“I see. We’d like you to reconsider.”

Rarity almost spit out her drink, instead forcing it down with a large swallow. “Excuse me? You came here to ask me not to adopt Scootaloo? Just who do you think you are?” she exclaimed, her anger growing like a red hot ember inside her. The reaction was fueled more by the idea that two ponies whom she had never actually met had the gall to tell her what to do than it was at the idea that she shouldn’t be the one to adopt Scootaloo, but both aspects fueled her rage.

“We’re not saying you’ve done a bad job, but she seems very unhappy,” Treble offered cautiously.

“Of course she’s unhappy! She’s been in five different homes in eight years! You really think that her mood is somehow my fault?”

“Not at all, but we just feel that she might be happier in a, well a more complete home.”

Rarity’s eyes narrowed and she gritted her teeth. “You actually mean to judge me because I’m not married.”

Lilly shook her head. “No, how you choose to live your life is your own business. But this isn’t just about you. Children grow up better adjusted in houses with both a mother and a father, and we can give her that whereas you can’t.”

“Children grow up better in houses where their parents understand them!” Rarity fired back. “In any case I think Scootaloo should be allowed a say in where she lives.”

“And we feel that it would be best if she didn’t have to make that choice. Children are ill equipped to handle this type of decision,” Lilly said, obviously fighting to keep her voice level.

“So you expect me to just sit here quietly while you decide what’s best for her,” Rarity said, being sure to place a particular emphasis on the word “you”.

“Quite frankly yes.”

“I see. Well, since I won’t be doing that is there anything else I can help you with?”

“I guess not,” Lilly said, standing up to leave, Treble silently following her. Her and her husband promptly left the boutique, leaving Rarity with a fresh set of doubts.

While Rarity was busy defending her choice to adopt, Scootaloo was sitting through another day at school. Scootaloo always had an uneasy relationship with school. She didn’t particularly enjoy it, but it was a refuge from her home life and it was an easy way to spend time with her friends.

“Hey, Scootaloo, isn’t that your friend?” Apple Bloom called out, pointing toward the crowd of parents waiting for their children.

Scootaloo noticed Autumn standing outside the school gates with some of the parents, and her heart leapt in her throat. Autumn never showed up at school unless he wanted to talk to her without any adults around. And he only did that when he was delivering bad news, not that he ever really had good news to deliver.

“Yeah,” Scootaloo mumbled. Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle knew that Autumn wasn’t really Scootaloo’s friend per se, but out of respect for their fellow crusader they made sure to never breath a word of Scootaloo’s living situation within earshot of any pony who might possibly tell Diamond Tiara. “I’ll see you girls later,” Scootaloo called over her shoulder as she quickly trotted over to Autumn.

Autumn knew enough not to say anything until they were out of earshot of Scootaloo’s classmates, so the two trotted wordlessly until they reached his office in the Foal Services building. Autumn always made it a point not to sit behind his desk when he spoke to Scootaloo, making sure to always sit next to her on the small couch in his office. He wasn’t sure if Scootaloo noticed or cared, but he did it anyway.

“How are you doing, Scootaloo?”

Scootaloo shrugged. “Fine,” she said, and she meant it. Up until she had been summoned she was as happy as she could really remember being, which was to say that she wasn’t actively unhappy.

Over their years together Autumn had liked to think he had developed something of a rapport with Scootaloo. She wasn’t one for small talk and meandering conversation, she preferred her news delivered short and to the point, so Autumn did his best to oblige. “Lilly and Treble have expressed an interest in adopting you.”

“Okay?” Scootaloo asked with a tilt of her head. It was a sad fact that for many ponies what was a once in a lifetime moment, was something of a routine for Scootaloo. Scootaloo had been through this particular dance several times, and this wasn’t how these things were supposed to go. For starters, the new parents always broke the news themselves. Sometimes they’d give her an envelope with the freshly signed adoption papers, other times they’d simply ask if she was “ready to join the family” or some other euphemistically phrased question. But it was always her “new parents” that told her, so she couldn’t figure out why was Autumn breaking the news.

Autumn continued his thought before Scootaloo could ask her question. “But, Rarity wants to adopt you too.”

If Scootaloo was mildly confused before, now she was genuinely shocked. Rarity had been very upfront about the fact that her stay at the boutique was going to be temporary. In Scootaloo’s opinion, that’s what made her stay work because it meant she didn’t have to worry about trying to make Rarity like her. Rarity wants to… Scootaloo mouthed silently.

“They can’t both adopt you and I have to choose, I’d like your input. This affects you more than it affects me.”

Scootaloo sat frozen on the couch, her mind rapidly trying to reconcile what was happening with her preconceived notions. “Choose what?”

“Who you want to live with.”

“Choose? I - I can't... I don’t know,” Scootaloo stammered.

“If you’d like I can choose for you. They’d never have to know you were given a choice,” Autumn offered, his own way of trying to help.

Scootaloo couldn’t deny that there was something very appealing about that offer. That way when she had to move again, Scootaloo could tell herself it would have worked out differently if only Autumn had chosen better. Despite recent events, Scootaloo couldn’t help but think “what would Rainbow Dash do,” and the answer to that was easy. Rainbow Dash didn’t let other ponies choose her destiny, she controlled her own fate. “No. I mean, I guess I should decide.” There was another pause as Autumn patiently waited for an answer.

“When do I need to decide?”

“You can take as much time as you need. And if you need a place to stay while you think we can get you a room at the hospital.”

“The hospital! But I’m not sick? Am I?” Scootaloo asked, suddenly looking very nervous.

“No, but Ponyville is a small town, there isn’t a whole lot of emergency housing available. I can understand if you might not want to stay with Rarity while you think about this, but you still need a safe place to stay and a hospital room is the best I can do.”

Scootaloo shuddered. The last time she stayed at the hospital was when her second set of parents abandoned her. Her memories of the details of her stay were hazy, but her memories of her emotions at the time were not. To this day, she still took the long way around Ponyville General unless she had a really good reason not to.

“No, that’s okay. I can still stay with Rarity,” Scootaloo said reflecting on all the times Rarity had given her space during the last few weeks. It felt foreign to have extended a significant measure of trust to anypony, but the alternative was a staying inside a hospital and that was even more unpalatable.

Scootaloo could never remember having a place she rightfully considered home, but there was one place in Equestria that came close. The Crusaders Clubhouse was a haven from the outside world. Any turmoil that may have been going on outside didn’t matter within the simple wooden walls, because once a crusader was inside the clubhouse, they could always count on their fellow crusaders to help them.

This time however, Scootaloo was thankful she was the only one here. She didn’t call for an official crusaders meeting, she just wanted a place she could be alone, and the clubhouse was a better alternative than the cave she had picked last time. Alone, and curled up in the corner she reflected on the choice she had to make. The fact that she even had a choice being in and of itself confusing to her.

She had never been given a choice before. Sometime one of her parents would ask her if she thought she might be happier somewhere else, but that was always code for “I’d be happier if you lived anywhere but here.” A small part of her rebelled inwardly. It wasn’t fair that she should have to choose who she lived with. Other ponies didn’t have to make this choice, they got families automatically. She was busy alternating between trying to make a decision and being angry that she even had to,when she spotted Sweetie Belle in the doorway.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. The question wasn’t really accusatory, as a crusader, Sweetie had the same all access pass to the clubhouse as she did.

“Rarity said you hadn’t come home yet and so I thought you might be here,” Sweetie replied stepping into the room proper, taking care to close the door behind her.

There probably wasn’t any sense in lying to Sweetie Belle, and crusaders always told each other the truth anyway. “Rarity wants to adopt me,” Scootaloo said looking up from the corner.

But whereas Scootaloo was scared, Sweetie was ecstatic. “That’s great! We’d be sisters!” she exclaimed happily. Sweetie paused and looked toward the sometimes leaky roof of the clubhouse. After a second her face lit up again, “Well actually I guess Rarity would be kinda like your mom, and I’m her sister so that would make me your aunt! You could call me auntie Sweetie Belle!”

“I am not calling you auntie Sweetie Belle!” Scootaloo snapped with a very honest glare.

Sweetie forced her smile down from its 1000 watt level of excitement to something more comforting. “You don’t have to call me auntie Sweetie if you don’t want to,” she said softly. “You don’t even need to think of me as your aunt, we could be sisters, or cousins. We wouldn’t have to be anything really, we’d just be family.” There was another long pause and Sweetie rushed to fill the silence before it became oppressive. “Umm, I know we’re not like the Apples or anything, but please give us a chance Scoots, it’d mean a lot to me.”

Scootaloo just sat there, rapidly blinking as she listened. There was something strangely familiar about Sweetie’s words. After a few moments of staring with wide eyes it hit her, Sweetie’s pleas sounded just like her pleas to Rainbow Dash, full of fear that she was somehow intrinsically flawed. “Wait, you’re worried that I might not want you?” she squeaked.

Sweetie tilted her head, genuinely surprised that her worry would be confusing, because well what else could be the problem. “Well sure,” she said with a shrug. “I mean we already know you’re great and I know that we’re not perfect, but if you let us I promise we’ll all try really hard to be a good family.”

Scootaloo was both touched and humbled by Sweetie’s promise until she remembered that there was no way Sweetie could possibly realize what she was saying. Scootaloo had long ago resigned herself to her unhappy fate, and she wasn’t about to foster it on her best friend. “But they’re your family, Sweetie. I know what it’s like not to have a family, I don’t want to take yours away from you.” she said shaking her head.

Sweetie took another step toward her friend, this time getting close enough to gently touch her shoulder. “A family isn’t like a basket of hay fries Scoots. If I give you some of my family, it’s not like there’s less of them for me. It’s like I give you some hay fires and you give me some hay fries and now everypony has more hay fries.”

“Wait, are we the hay fries? Or is Rarity? And is there any ketchup?”

“Rarity’s the hay fries, but so are we?” Sweetie asked with a scrunched face as she tried to work through the mechanics of her clumsy food metaphor, eventually giving up. “I’m not sure. The point is, you wouldn’t be taking any of my family away, you’d be adding to it.”

Scootaloo flashed back to a day about five years ago on a kindergarten playground. She had been sitting all alone, just playing in the sand when a little white unicorn walked up to her.

“Would you like to use my shovel?” the unicorn asked.

Scootaloo hadn’t said anything. It seemed weird that this total stranger was offering her the use of a shovel. She didn’t need one; her hole in the ground was coming along just fine. Maybe this new pony was there to mock her. I have a shovel and you don’t. She was about to tell white unicorn exactly what she could do with her stupid shovel but before she could the unicorn sat down next to her and started to dig in her carefully constructed hole.

“Hey! What are you doing?” she had yelled at the time.

“I’m sorry,” the white unicorn squeaked. “I’m not very good at digging holes and yours seems really nice and I just thought maybe I could help you and I’ll leave you alone now,” The white unicorn stuttered before quickly getting up to scurry away. But in her haste to leave she had left the little blue shovel that started this mess behind. Scootaloo didn’t really care where her new acquaintance went, but she did know that it was wrong to keep things that weren’t yours. “Wait,” she called out. “You forgot your shovel.” The stranger turned around and slowly walked back over. Scootaloo stared at the ground, and the hole she had been digging. The shovel did seem to be a better tool than just her hooves. “You can stay if you want to.” The unicorn smiled the biggest smile Scootaloo could remember and sat down; resuming her digging in what was now their hole in the ground. “Thanks, my name is Sweetie Belle.”

And the rest, as they say, was history.

Scootaloo snapped out of her daze to see that same white unicorn sitting in front of her, again offering her something that she didn’t think she needed with the same hopeful expression on her face.

Scootaloo looked down and sighed. Sweetie did care about her, she doubted a lot of things but never that, but there was still no way her friend realized what she was signing up for.

“Scoots?” Sweetie said, poking Scootaloo gently with her muzzle.

“I just... I don't want to come between you two. I couldn’t do that to you.”

“Why in Equestria do you think that you’d come between us?” Sweetie asked, settling in next to her orange friend.

“I take up so much of Rarity's time already, and that’s just as a house guest! How can you think she'll have enough time for you if she's stuck taking care of me?”

“She's not stuck with you - she wants to take care you. She cares so much about you, we both do! We're practically family already!”

“Yeah, but what about you? Are you gonna be okay if Rarity can’t play with you cause she has to take dumb ol’ Scoots to a dance recital.”

“If Rarity is taking you to a dance recital, I’m probably going too. Rarity always has stuff to do and she still makes time for me. Why would that change? Just because she loves you doesn't mean she'd love me any less.”

“How do you know?” Scootaloo challenged. In her experience, actual genuine love was far too rare a commodity to be doled out so freely.

Sweetie’s next three words were devoid of any uncertainty. “Because we're family,” she said simply. “My parents didn't abandon Rarity when I was born, and Apple Bloom doesn’t love Applejack more than she does Big Mac or Granny Smith. That's part of what being a family means.”

“But you’re always complaining about her,” Scootaloo pointed out.

“I don’t always complain about her. Besides, that’s the other thing about family, even when you’re mad at each other you still love them.”

Scootaloo found herself at a loss for words. “I... uhh... but…”

“But what?”

Scootaloo couldn’t think of any more objections for Sweetie, but that didn’t mean that she was entirely convinced that she finally found a place where she was wanted. “I think maybe I need to talk to Rarity.”

Broken

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Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle walked back to town until their respective paths diverged, Scootaloo needing to make a right to return to the Carousel Boutique and Sweetie Belle needing to keep going down the cobblestone road to get to her parents house. The two friends stood at the fork in the road, dimly lit by a rising moon, neither of them sure what to say.

Scootaloo started to open her mouth, preparing to utter a perfunctory farewell but instead found herself wrapped up in a tight hug. Sweetie broke away and Scootaloo stared at her, waiting for some explanation but Sweetie only smiled at her, the same hopeful smile she offered back in the clubhouse. Scootaloo tried to return the gesture but her emotions were too conflicted for it to be genuine. Sweetie nodded, perhaps in understanding, or perhaps just acknowledgment, and trotted off down her path leaving Scootaloo to finish the last leg of her journey by herself.

Scootaloo walked slower than normal, desperately hoping for an epiphany that would guide her. But the gentle breeze and cool night air only offered silence. By the time she reached her destination the only thing she was sure about was that she wasn’t ready to make this decision quite yet, regardless of Sweetie’s heartfelt plea. She stood outside of Carousel Boutique, her resolve fresh in her mind and pushed open the door only to find the Boutique empty.

“Rarity?” Scootaloo called out to the empty room.

Seconds after hearing her name, Rarity came bounding down from upstairs. “Scootaloo?” she called back before laying eyes on the orange filly at the base of the stairs. “Thank goodness you're alright - I was so worried. Where have you been?”

Scootaloo ignored the question, instead choosing to focus on the topic she wanted to talk about. “Autumn came to talk to me today at school.”

“Oh... did he?” Rarity cleared her throat. “And, um, is everything alright?

“I'm not sure,” Scootaloo replied, looking around the room; though Rarity couldn’t be sure what she was looking for.

Instantly, Rarity began to conjure up a number of worrisome scenarios that stemmed from her impromptu visit with Lilly this afternoon. Maybe Autumn had determined that Scootaloo really would be better off in a two parent home. Maybe Lilly had issued some sort of ultimatum? Regardless, Scootaloo was unmistakably troubled and that was disconcerting all by itself. “What happened? Is something the matter?”

“He told me that Lilly and Treble wanted to adopt me…” Scootaloo was just thinking out loud at this point, she still couldn’t really wrap her head around what was going on, the idea that she might actually be wanted being too foreign to her. For as long as she could remember she had been shuttled from house to house, moving on when her new family grew tired of her, her opinion never really mattered. “But, he also told me that you wanted to adopt me too,” Scootaloo continued.

A glimmer of hope flickered in Rarity’s eyes. She couldn’t help it as the smile on her face grew wider.
“It's true! I've wanted to tell you, but-well I guess there’s a process to this.”

Rarity sat expectantly, waiting for Scootaloo to give some indication that she was even a fraction as excited as Rarity was, but Scootaloo’s expression remained frustratingly blank. Neither pony said anything for a few minutes; Rarity doing her best to stay still and Scootaloo becoming increasingly fidgety as the air grew denser.

Rarity froze, just watching Scootaloo. She had been hoping Scootaloo’s reaction would be a big smile and possibly a hug, but since Scootaloo didn’t seem to be offering either, Rarity began preparing herself for rejection. It stung more than she thought it would.
Eventually, Rarity couldn’t bear it anymore. “Scootaloo?” she asked, hoping her voice was calm, even though her heart was pounding.

“I don't know,” Scootaloo said, eyes rooted to her hooves as she pawed at the ground in front of her.

“I... see.” For a moment Rarity began to see this as just a garden variety dilemma, like whether to wear a stylish large brim hat or a chic fedora. “Perhaps we could back up. What about Lilly and Treble? What do you think of them?”

“They seem nice,” Scootaloo said with a shrug. But before Rarity could ask another question Scootaloo spoke again. This time her voice cracked and tears began to well up in the corners of her eyes. “They always seem nice, until they realize that I’m broken and then they don’t want me anymore, it always happens, always!”

“You’re not broken, Scootaloo,” Rarity said, repeating the lesson she had tried to impress on Scootaloo ever since the first night Scootaloo stayed at the Boutique.

Scootaloo’s brow furrowed and she shook her head violently. “Yes I am. You just don’t realize it yet either,” Scootaloo cried, the tears now falling down her cheeks.

Rarity paused, her previous illusion that she could talk her way through this shattered. In a way, Scootaloo wasn’t entirely wrong. The reason she didn’t have a home was partly her fault, but not in the way Scootaloo thought it was. She wasn’t broken, but her insistence that she was had become a self fulfilling prophecy. Rarity started to take a step forward, intent on offering some form of physical comfort, but Scootaloo flinched and Rarity opted to stay where she was. “What about Sweetie Belle? She’s been your friend for a while, do you think she thinks you’re broken?”

“Sweetie’s special,” Scootaloo said, and meant it. “She says that you want me as a member of the family.”

“She's right! It would make me so happy to make it official!” Rarity said hoping to capitalize on Scootaloo’s goodwill toward her sister. But Scootaloo just sighed, furiously trying to wipe the tears off her face.. “You've been living here for a month already, and it's been absolutely splendid-”

“No it hasn’t!” Scootaloo said stomping her right leg. A fresh wave of tears began to well up in her eyes. “Just stop it, okay. I’ve heard this all before, it’s never true and I’m sick of being lied to.”

“What do you mean, dear?”

“That ponies want me as a member of their family. That they want to adopt me, and that we'll have a wonderful time, and this time it’s different! All of it!”

“I'm sorry, Scootaloo. I didn't mean to upset you.”

Scootaloo sniffled loudly, wiping at her eyes. “I've heard that too.” There was another long pause, only this time it was because Rarity was waiting on Scootaloo to lead the conversation. “Why do you want to adopt me?” Scootaloo asked. Her tone was momentarily free of anguish and instead almost honest. “I know this hasn’t been easy for you. Why wouldn’t you just pass me off?”

“I won’t lie to you, Scootaloo. I meant it when I said that having you here this last month has been splendid. But you’re right, it hasn't been easy.”

Scootaloo's head jerked up from it’s previous downcast position but Rarity continued before Scootaloo could interpret her statement as another rejection.“But nothing worth doing ever is. I want to adopt you because I care about what happens to you. Not as ‘your friend's sister,’ or a ‘generous spirit…’ But as somepony who genuinely wants you to be cared for, kept safe, and to feel what everypony deserves - a sense of belonging, a family.”

Scootaloo badly wanted to believe that Rarity was lying, but her tone and the conviction with which she uttered her words made that impossible. She also wanted very badly to believe Rarity was telling the truth, but her experiences had taught her that wasn’t likely either. “I need some time to think,” Scootaloo mumbled.

Forced to concede that Scootaloo needed to be able to work through her own process, Rarity simply nodded. “Alright. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“You've done enough,” Despite the callousness of the words, Rarity didn’t detect any anger in Scootaloo’s tone. Rather, she said it with the same weary resignation Scootaloo seemingly always returned to.

The only response she could offer was a soft, “Very well then,” before Scootaloo trudged upstairs.

Author's Notes:

I know it's a short chapter, but the next one shouldn't be too long a wait.

Scootaloo is going to get adopted, in a surprising plot twist by my OC Raylan. He moves to ponyville; Scootaloo instantly likes him cause he’s so cool but he’s not a dick about it. Then he marries Rarity thus solving the single mother problem. At first the other Mane 6 are skeptical but because he’s really good at magic and a really fast flyer and he loves animals and teaches AJ some cool farming stuff and teaches Pinkie some awesome cake recipes, they all like him too. Also he becomes the seventh element, the element of fatherhood because he’s such an awesome dad to Scootaloo and so Scootaloo’s abandonment and self esteem issues are instantly cured. Then Tirek returns and he fights him too.

But the point is that the story won’t end there. HMXTaylorLee contributed some awesome help on the dialogue in this one, so thanks to him. Most authors love feedback.

Kintsugi

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Scootaloo lay in bed, alone in the upstairs bedroom of the boutique. She didn’t want to admit it, but she liked this room, and that, more than anything, ate at her. She wanted to hate the room, she wanted to hate Rarity. You didn’t miss a room you hated. A pony you hated suggesting you might be happier elsewhere was good news. She had learned a long time ago that things you hated couldn’t hurt you, and not being hurt was the most important thing in the world. A hurt pony was a weak pony, and Scootaloo wasn’t weak. Weak was for ponies who could afford that particular luxury.

So she pulled the covers closer to her and tried desperately to hate the soft feel of the blankets and the color scheme that reminded her of Rainbow Dash without being obvious. And how those were her pictures on the wall and that it was her scooter in the corner. She tried to hate Rarity for letting her make her own decision because that was exactly what she asked for and then she tried to hate Rarity for not forcing her to join her family and not promising that everything was going to be okay from now on. That last one was particularly loathsome because it meant she couldn’t hate Rarity for lying to her.

Scootaloo skipped breakfast, it was harder to hate a pony who fed you, opting to leave without saying anything and pick up an apple on her way to the Foal Services office. Perhaps the only good thing about being an orphan was that your case officer could write you a note excusing you from school when you had “orphan problems,” such as needing to meet a prospective parent. Autumn didn’t do it very often, but he had done it.

Scootaloo didn’t bother waiting at the front desk; she simply marched right into her case officer’s office to find Autumn sipping a cup of coffee as he filled out some forms.

Autumn wasn’t entirely surprised Scootaloo was there given yesterday's conversation. And while he assumed she would be back to either give him an answer to ask more questions after school, he wasn’t about to kick her out for not working around his schedule. “Good Morning?” It was as good an opener as any other he could think of.

Scootaloo wasted no time getting to the purpose of her visit. “I want to talk to Lilly and Treble; can I do that?”

“Sure, I’m happy to arrange another meeting. I think I could bring them in tomorrow.”

“No, today. It has to be today!”

“Scootaloo—”

“It’s important. I can’t go to school, Sweetie’s there and I won’t be able to focus and I need to talk to them today! Please, Autumn!” Scootaloo pleaded with wide eyes.

Despite his years of working with troubled children, or perhaps because of them, Autumn had a weakness for foals in distress. In particular, hearing Scootaloo’s anguish always brought him back to the first time he met her, it was an experience that still ranked as one of the worst moments of his life.

One thing he could say about Scootaloo was that she was always honest with him, and it didn’t take much to see that she wasn’t simply looking for an excuse to avoid a math test. He relented, “I can’t promise that they’ll say yes, but if you’d like to wait here, I can go see if they’re willing to come today.”

“Thank you,” Scootaloo said softly, breathing out a momentary sigh of relief.

The playroom at the Foal Services office was almost a second clubhouse to Scootaloo for all the time she had spent in there; so the idea of killing a few hours there may not have been pleasant but it wasn’t unfamiliar. No one needed to tell her where the crayons were or the Daring Do coloring book, she simply retrieved them from the drawer and took a familiar seat at the table in the far corner. She sighed as she opened it up to find that some careless foal had colored in the picture she had been working on, not paying attention to the lines at all. Scootaloo turned the page to find a fresh picture and began a new project.

At one point a green pegasus poked his head in, Scootaloo didn’t recognize him. “Do you need anything?” he asked.

She wasn’t sure if he was a new staff member, a stallion thinking about adopting or just some obnoxious pony there to annoy her. “No,” she said, making a point to turn her attention back to her coloring book. The stallion shrugged and left her alone. She sat undisturbed for the next couple of hours until she saw Autumn walk up to the door, Lilly following him.

“Hello, Scootaloo.” Lilly’s voice was like an ocean breeze, tranquil on the surface but teeming with possibility underneath.

“Hi,” Scootaloo said, trying and failing to make eye contact.

“I hope it’s okay that Treble isn’t here. He had a music lesson to teach, but he wanted me to tell you that he’s happy to answer any question you have when he gets back and he’s looking forward to a chutes and ladders rematch.”

“It’s fine,” Scootaloo mumbled.

“Okay.” Lilly took a few steps closer and sat down next to Scootaloo. “So Autumn didn’t really tell me anything, he just said you wanted to meet with us?”

Scootaloo’s heart began to beat faster and she forced herself to try and stay calm. “Why do you want to adopt me?” Scootaloo asked as calmly as she could manage, but her voice was still tinged with an aching loneliness.

The question clearly rattled Lilly and she reflexively blinked several times before speaking again. “Well… I’ve always wanted to be a mom. I know all little fillies play with dolls, but ever since I was little I dreamed of taking care of my very own child,” she answered, her voice sharing a similar ache to Scootaloo’s oft stated desires to move in with Rainbow Dash.

Scootaloo had never really played with dolls, but that didn’t seem to be worth mentioning right now. “But why adopt one?” Where exactly babies came from was still a bit of a mystery but Scootaloo knew enough to know that most parents who wanted children just kinda had them, they didn’t go through the trouble of adopting one.

“I can’t have children,” Lilly whispered. “Treble and I tried for so long to get pregnant. When we didn’t we went the doctor and he told me that my ute—” Lilly stopped as she realized Scootaloo wasn’t looking for a medical history or a biology lesson. “He told me that my body couldn’t have foals.”

Scootaloo recognized genuine pain when she saw it, an unfortunate side effect of being intimately familiar with it, and the anguish of Lilly’s grimace was clearly genuine. “I’m sorry,” she offered.

“Thank you.” Lilly tried to smile and Scootaloo recognized it as the same pained smile she saw in the mirror everyday. “But it’s okay. I may not be able to have my own foals, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be a mom. And then I met you and you seem like you’re looking for a family too and I thought that we could be each other’s family.”

“That’s a nice thought,” Scootaloo said quietly.

“That’s what you wanted to ask? Why we wanted to adopt?”

Scootaloo shook her head. “Not really, I mean kind of. I wanted to know why you wanted to adopt me. I’m not the only orphan in ponyville. I don’t garden and I’m not very good at music. You two get to pick your child, why wouldn’t you pick somepony… better,” Scootaloo finished, fishing for an adjective.

“I don’t mind that you don’t garden, and I’m sure Treble doesn’t care if you can carry a tune. We can teach you if you want, or not. And you can teach us about the things you like. You said you like to dance right?”

Scootaloo nodded, but didn’t say anything else.

Lilly wasn’t sure how to proceed so she said the only thing that she could think of. “Would you like to come see our house?”

Autumn walked with Scootaloo as Lilly led them through Ponyville; opting to stay quiet. For her part, Scootaloo was kind of hoping that Lilly’s house would be a rundown shack, just so her choice would be easier. Yes this is where we live, here’s the broom closet you’ll be staying in, no you don’t get a bed. But it wasn’t. It was a cozy-looking one story house on the east side of town. The outside was painted blue and the roof didn’t have any gaping holes. The extravagant, multi floral flower bed being the main thing that distinguished it from its also well-maintained neighbors.

“Do you like them?” Lilly asked gesturing toward a patch of orange Tulips that Scootaloo kept staring at. Scootaloo nodded, hoping that Lilly didn’t specifically plant orange tulips in preparation for her arrival. “Come, let me show you the inside.”

Lillys and Treble’s house was pretty much what Scootaloo was expecting based on her impression from the exterior. Fresh flowers filled a number of vases on the table and end tables of the living room and kitchen, but stopped just shy of being excessive. The furniture matched and looked perfectly stable, and there didn’t appear to be any rodent or insect problems.

Autumn stood off to the side, letting Lilly lead the way. A pungent waft hit Scootaloo’s nose and she wrinkled her snout.“What’s that smell?”

“Oh, I made a few loaves of garlic bread earlier. It taste great but I guess the smell does kinda linger, doesn’t it?” Lilly said with a giggle.

The thought of garlic bread reminded Scootaloo of spaghetti and how that one meal in particular always served to remind her that she was living with ponies who didn’t care enough about her to remember that she hated spaghetti.

“Would you like to see your room?” Lilly asked, before Scootaloo could dwell on the meaning of garlic bread.

Scootaloo followed Lilly down a short hallway, to a room located on the left; much to her disappointment, it was not a broom closet and she didn’t share it with a hot water heater or a washing machine. Other than being sparsely decorated, it seemed like a perfectly nice room. The walls were a soft shade of white and it had a window overlooking the backyard that afforded her a nice few of Lilly’s flower garden. It was connected to its own bathroom and already had a set of wooden, child-sized bedroom furniture: desk, dresser and bed; similar to every bedroom she had ever had. It seemed so familiar that it wasn’t particularly hard to imagine living in this one.

Lilly again interrupted her thoughts. “I was thinking that maybe we could go pick out decorations together, if you decide to stay here.”

“I don’t know,” Scootaloo said pawing at the ground. “You have a nice house,” she said quietly. A different pony might have meant that as a perfunctory compliment but for Scootaloo it was meant a test, to see if Lilly would try and pressure her into moving in.

Perhaps Lilly sensed Scootaloo’s intentions, or maybe she just figured that Scootaloo didn’t need to hear anymore about how much she wanted a filly of her own to take care of. She responded with a sincere “Thank you,” and left it at that.

Both Autumn and Lilly just waited and Scootaloo felt their gaze grow more oppressive. Clearly they were waiting on her to say something. “I need some time to think,” she said, not daring to look either one of them in the eye.

“Of course, I understand,” Lilly replied, passing Scootaloo’s last verbal test.

Autumn led her outside, where he informed her that she had the day off from school if that’s what she wanted and that, as usual, he would do his best to get her anything else she might need.

Scootaloo spent the rest of the day in a haze. She kept mainly to the outskirts of town, a by-product of wanting to be alone. She couldn’t retreat to the clubhouse because her fellow crusaders would likely be there. She didn’t want to go back to the boutique, and she also didn’t want to spend anymore time in the Foal Services office. Ponyville was too small a town for her to walk around in without running into Rainbow Dash, or Pinkie, or Applejack, or any of her classmates and she really didn’t like those caves down by the lake. That left the outskirts of town on the west as a place she could be where she likely wouldn’t run into anypony, but also still be relatively safe.

Lilly was the safe choice. She didn’t really think it would work out, but when it inevitably failed eight months from now it wouldn’t be anything new; a couple awkward conversations and then she’d pack her bags and move somewhere else to repeat the process.

A “break-up” with Rarity wouldn’t be so easy.

Despite her mantra of not being weak, Scootaloo knew she had one glaring weakness, two if she was being technical about it. Her fellow crusaders were the only two ponies she knew who accepted her wholly for who she was. That meant they alone were unique. In quiet moments, Scootaloo would sometimes wonder if there was anything she categorically wouldn’t do for Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle. The answer always came back as no, if the need was dire enough Scootaloo couldn’t imagine refusing anything that might help them.

And breaking up with Rarity would mean breaking up with Sweetie Belle. Not entirely of course, she knew (fervently prayed) Sweetie would still be her friend. But if she had to leave Rarity’s house it would strain their friendship is ways Scootaloo didn’t want to think about.

As she sat on a hill watching the sun go down, a stiff breeze forced her to notice how cold it was and a gnawing hunger reminded her she hadn’t eaten since her apple in the morning. A small voice in her head told her that being cold and hungry was what she deserved, but the more self-interested voice told her that there was food and heat back at the Carousel Boutique. The thought that being cold and hungry wasn’t going to change her decision pulled her to her hoofs and Scootaloo began the walk back to town.

She entered the Boutique to find Rarity puttering about her sales floor. Subtly adjusting the gowns on display and swapping the various accessories. "There you are, I was begining to worry,” Rarity said, setting the rest of her scarfs down on an end table.

“I know. I’m your responsibility until I leave. Broken or not.”

“As a matter of fact I was just thinking about that. What you said earlier, about being broken.”

“So you do agree with me.” It was unclear weather Scootaloo meant it as a declaration or a sentence.

“No, I am merely proposing a hypothetical in which you are right, so for a moment let’s say that you are. It doesn’t have to be a bad thing.”

“How can it not be bad? Broken things don’t work, that’s why they are broken!”

"Are you familiar with Kintsugi?" Scootaloo shook her head. “Kintsugi is an Nieghponese technique for repairing pottery.” Rarity said, adopting that familiar lecture tone of voice, instantly recognizable to children everywhere.

“If it’s a pottery thing, how do you know about it?” Scootaloo asked, momentarily wondering if Rarity was also a secret potter in addition to being a poker playing fashionista.

“A couple years ago, eastern influences became very popular in Manehattan and so I incorporated a few points into my spring line, but that’s not the point.” Rarity said with a dismissive hoof wave.

“What is the point then?”

“With Kintsugi potters use gold to fill in cracks from broken pieces, the result is that the broken pot is more beautiful precisely because it has been broken.”

Scootaloo heard the words but they didn’t make sense. A broken scooter wheel was a useless wheel, and even if it could be repaired it would still never be a good as a fresh out the box wheel. “I don’t get it.”

“I was afraid a demonstration might be in order. Follow me,” Rarity said turning toward the workspace of the Canterlot Boutique. Sitting on the ponyequin in the center of the room was a silver dress, a bit too large to fit Scootaloo but also clearly too small for Rarity. It was composed of three distinct pieces. A long flowing back piece made of a silver silk. A light blue top piece to cover the wearer's shoulders and a small cinch that graduated from the silver to the blue to connect the two. “This was the first dress I ever really designed and sewed myself,” Rarity said, the pride in her voice unmistakable.

“It’s nice?” Scootaloo guessed, not having any real opinion about what she was looking at.

“Thank you, I’m afraid it’s a bit tacky in retrospect, but regardless it holds a special place in my heart.” Rarity took a deep breath and used her magic to tear several large rips in the back piece, letting out a small whimper as she did.

“Why did you do that!” Scootaloo shrieked. If Rarity thought she was going to endear herself to Scootaloo by breaking things in some sort of weird act of solidarity then clearly Lilly was the better option.

“Because it serves to illustrate my point.” Using an impressive bit of telekinetic magic Rarity deftly wove pieces of purple ribbon the the ripped back piece and sewed the dress back together with a silver thread. When she was finished the back piece now had some irregular, purple stripes running down the length. Perhaps the dress wasn’t as polished as it had previously been, but the additions gave it a character and charm that it had previously been lacking.

Rarity’s next words were spoken softly, lest Scootaloo interpret them as challenge, false hope or anything other than a simple declaration. “I don’t think you’re broken Scootaloo, but even if you think you are, the broken part is just part of what makes you special.” Rarity wrapped the dress in a magic bubble and gently levitated it over to Scootaloo. “Here I want you to have this, regardless of what you decide."

Scootaloo took the dress in her forelegs, running a hoof over the freshly repaired tears. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to; perhaps it can serve as a small reminder that you are perfectly fine, imperfections and all.”

Epiphany

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Scootaloo sat in her room, still waiting for that epiphany that had eluded her since yesterday. Throughout the day she kept hoping that Lilly would slip up and reveal herself to be some sort of evil matron, intent on adopting Scootaloo as part of some nefarious scheme, or failing that, just a mean pony. But as far as Scootaloo could tell, Lilly was just a pony looking to grow her family. She seemed nice enough, all the ponies who had tried adopting her did at first, until the novelty wore off and they grew sick of her.

She thought about what Rarity said, not so much the weird Neighponese pottery thing, but about what Rarity said about Sweetie Belle. Sweetie had known her longer than anypony, and was still her best friend. Granted, being a friend was markedly different than adopting somepony, but it still had to matter that Sweetie was still her friend after knowing her for years. And if Sweetie could see past her brokenness, then maybe Rarity could too.

Scootaloo hopped off the bed and trotted over to the closet where the dress Rarity gave her hung. She stared at it, hoping to gain further insight, but the idea that Rarity really did love her enough to overlook her flaws was equally as elusive as any epiphany about Lilly.

Scootaloo sighed. Realizing that the dress wasn’t going to make her decision for her, she drifted over to her desk. A pang of longing pierced her chest as she saw the pictures of Rainbow Dash, that particular wound still raw. Next, she studied a picture of her and her fellow crusaders with wide smiles on their faces as they posed in front of the Ponyville schoolhouse. Scootaloo stood in the center, her forelegs draped over the other two.

What Scootaloo liked about the picture was that it was impossible to look at it and see anything other than three happy friends. For a brief moment in time, captured in that image, she was indistinguishable from any other normal filly.

She thought about the past month. It hadn’t been terrible, in fact, if she was being honest with herself, it had been nice. She was enjoying her dance lessons and she liked playing poker with Rarity, even if she always lost. But more important than any of that was that Rarity didn’t seem to be “going through the motions.” Sweetie’s sister had actually, genuinely, welcomed her into her home. Rarity could have left the upstairs bedroom decorated as it was, but she didn’t. And she could have told Scootaloo that she didn’t like barley soup and so she wouldn’t be making it for dinner, but she didn’t. And Rarity didn’t have to tuck her in and comfort her when she was crying at night, and she did that anyway too.

Scootaloo didn’t appreciate the idea of a spell that was used to unwrinkle fabrics being used on her, and Rarity refused to keep calling it her “horn thing,” so the pair had come to a compromise. Rarity modified the spell further, with some help from Twilight, so that the warmth generated had less air flow and was thus less like a dryer and more pure magic, and in exchange Scootaloo agreed to call it the bedtime spell.

Scootaloo had grown to like the bedtime spell. For one, it didn’t involve any physical touching. Previous foster parents had sometimes insisted on a goodnight kiss or hug. Scootaloo was wary about being touched; she wasn’t sure exactly why. Encroaching on her personal space felt like the first step toward being let down; better to stop that before it started. And it though she couldn’t place a hoof on exactly why, the bedtime spell made her feel safe.

Safe wasn’t technically the right word. Saying she felt safe implied that Scootaloo was scared at night. It wasn’t that Scootaloo was afraid of the dark or anything like that. It was that when she was being bathed in warm magic she felt wanted. And since her biggest fear was that she wasn’t, the bedtime spell quieted that worry.

Scootaloo made a decision. It felt like a big deal, but as far as she could tell, the rest of the world didn’t notice; there were no fireworks or heralding of trumpets. It was a little like pushing yourself off a steep hill on a scooter, she mused. Once you committed on that course there was really no stopping until the end. As Scootaloo knew from experience, trying to stop a scooter at full speed as it barreled down a precarious incline left you with some nasty scrapes and bruises. Better to grip the handlebars tight, and look for a suitable path to the bottom.

Her scooter metaphor firmly entrenched and ushering her onward, Scootaloo walked into the hallway. The telltale whir of Rarity’s sewing machine told her that the workshop of Carousel Boutique was where she was likely to find the pony she was looking for.

Scootaloo pushed the door open and quietly spoke. “Rarity,” she said, unsure if the din of the sewing machine would drown out her voice.

Rarity looked up from her sewing machine to catch a hint of purple tail in her peripheral vision. Knowingly or not, Scootaloo had placed herself directly behind the machine’s body and Rarity took a step to the side so she could better see the pony addressing her.

Scootaloo struggled to make eye contact. “I think I’d like to maybe try staying here, if you’re still okay with that.”

It wasn’t exactly the feverish acceptance Rarity had been hoping for, but functionally it was the same. “Of course I am,” Rarity answered. Neither pony said anything for a few moments, Rarity unsure of how to act in this situation and Scootaloo not wanting to risk saying anything that could make Rarity change her mind.

“I mean I don’t know if it’s going to work, it’s just that…” Scootaloo stopped and fought back tears she didn’t realize were forming. “I’m sick of moving, and I’m sick of being sad all the time. I just want a home, and maybe it can be here. I mean you’re related to Sweetie so…” Scootaloo paused as she realized her rambling was bordering on incoherent.

Rarity took a few steps forward and gently wrapped Scootaloo in a hug, their first one as family members, albeit still unofficial ones.

As she cradled the orange filly who was alternating between trying not to cry and accepting that she was, Rarity had a minor epiphany; Scootaloo wasn’t broken, but she was fragile. And evidently she had placed that fragility in her hooves. It was profoundly humbling. A few more moments later and Scootaloo pushed herself away and looked up at Rarity with wide eyed innocence only children could summon. “Scootaloo, I won’t pretend that everything is going to be perfect from now on, these things take time. Maybe we can work together to smooth out the rough patches, okay?” It wasn’t as eloquent a phrase as Rarity wanted to deliver, but it was what she came up with.

“Okay… Mom?” Scootaloo said with a grimace, followed by a weak smile. It was clear that she was uncomfortable with using the word, but that she was also trying to mask her displeasure. Unfortunately for her, her age, and her tendency to wear her heart on her sleeve was working against her in that regard.

“Pump-kin?” Rarity responded, her inflection rising. It wasn’t that she was any more comfortable with the sudden name changes, but as an adult and one who worked in an industry where lying to preserve others feelings were commonplace, she was much more practiced at hiding her emotions.

Scootaloo flinched at the sobriquet, her ears folding back against her head and an awkward silence hung in the air. Finally, Scootaloo spoke again, “Would it be okay if I just called you Rarity?” she whispered, not daring to make eye contact.

“It would. Would it be okay if I just called you Scootaloo?” Rarity replied softly.

“Uh-huh,” Scootaloo said with a nod, looking up.

“Splendid,” Rarity replied and for a moment the tension was lifted.

Scootaloo looked around the room, trying to take in the idea that this was home now. “So now what?”

“Well, now I guess we make it official.”

Author's Notes:

Non magical talking horse reading recommendation.

I recently came across a book called Counting by 7s, by Holly Goldberg Sloan. It’s about a little girl who loses her parents. If that kind of thing interest you, and I suspect it might, it’s worth a read. It’s a YA book so it’s not very long or difficult. I enjoyed it and I suspect some of you might too. (And yes I read other stuff too just in case I hear the sounds of keyboards clacking something to the effect of “YA? Go read a real book asshole.”)

I don’t apologize for the wait for this chapter given that it was so short. I am a firm believer in this as a hobby and I try to keep my pressure to write anything firmly set to 0. As for the reasons for the wait; this was a difficult chapter to write, I wanted to give it the effort it deserved; Two I got sucked into playing Fallout 4. I know that this has afflicted many writers (and readers) on this site, so I am in good company. Also

A big thanks to my pre-readers and a reminder that most authors love feedback.

A Start

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It was noon before Rarity and Scootaloo had the chance to tell any of their friends about their decision to move forward with adoption. The Crusaders were congregating around their favorite lunch spot. Scootaloo had been late to school, thanks to meeting with Autumn, and despite trying to furtively sneak in a conversation during a history lesson, lunch was their first opportunity to talk about where she was yesterday and this morning. She didn’t really want to explain her whereabouts yesterday, quickly glossing over her visit with Lilly, but she did describe how she and Rarity had visited foal services office that morning.

Sweetie Belle let out a high pitched noise that could only be accurately be described as a “squee”. She instantly pounced on Scootaloo with a hug so fierce a bystander might have mistaken it for an attack rather than a spontaneous display of affection. “We’re family now, Scoots!”

Scootaloo gently pried Sweetie off of her. “Umm. not really,” she said quietly.

“What are you talking about?” Apple Bloom chimed in.

“Rarity can change her mind for a year before they make it official, so until then I’m still just a foster kid,” Scootaloo said with a grimace. All morning long she had tried to hide her disappointment. When Autumn told them that finalizing her adoption included a mandatory year of observation and when Rarity’s protest was quickly dismissed and she acquiesced Scootaloo just smiled and nodded. On the walk to school where Rarity assured her that the year long gap between her decision and being officially adopted was just a formality, Scootaloo tried to pretend that it wasn’t like every other time she had heard that speech. And now she was pretending that she didn’t truly believe that six months from now she’d be looking for yet another place to call home.

“Rarity isn’t going to change her mind,” Sweetie Belle said, interrupting Scootaloo’s morose.

Scootaloo didn’t have it in her to explain to Sweetie that ponies who started to adopt her always ended up going back on that decision . Inside she was practically screaming Ponies always change their mind, you two are the only ones who don’t! But Sweetie and Apple Bloom didn’t deserve that kind of sniping, they were her friends, and though she doubted a great many things in life she never doubted that. “I’m still not calling you Auntie Sweetie.” she said hoping to end the current line of inquiry.

“I know,” Sweetie replied with a roll of her eyes.

In response, Scootaloo fixed her friend with a firm stare. “I will never call you Auntie Sweetie.”

“I know, geez Scoots you don’t have to tell me twice.”

“Never.” Scootaloo repeated with a perfectly deadpan expression.

Sweetie threw her forelegs up in surrender. “Okay! Fine. Though it wouldn’t kill you to say it just once,” she pouted. But before she could dwell on her disappointment Apple Bloom wrapped a foreleg around both of them. “This is great!” she exclaimed with a big smile.

“You’re not jealous? Cause now that we’ve got Scoots, my family is pretty awesome” Sweetie asked, causing Scootaloo to blush and Apple Bloom to roll her eyes.

“ Nah, I’ve already got a great family, and now you’ve got one too… not that they weren’t great before, I mean….” Apple Bloom waved her hooves desperately grasping at an elusive way to save face. “If you two are family, that just means the Crusaders are closer than ever!” she finished.

Having broken the news to her friends, Scootaloo quickly set about trying to find the quickest way away from the conversation. “How bout we see if we can get a game of hoofball going? I think Lily and Twist wanted to play, if we can get Rumble then we can play three on three,” she said dashing off before her friends could possibly object.

While Scootaloo was informing her friends of the result of her decision, Rarity was doing the same. Left entirely to her own devices, Rainbow Dash wouldn’t have been her first choice of friends to tell; she would have rather talked to Fluttershy, or maybe Applejack, but if Scootaloo was going to be a part of her life now that meant that Rainbow needed to be a bigger part of it too.

“Wow, you really adopted her? Just like that you're her mom?” was Rainbow’s stunned reply after Rarity informed her of the events of the morning.

Rarity balked at Rainbow’s remark, for a few reasons, not the least of which being the agreement to put the mom label on the shelf for now. “It’s not quite that simple. There’s a year long evaluation before foal services will complete the adoption,” Rarity said with no small trace of annoyance. Like Scootaloo, it wasn’t so much the wait as it was the implication that she was going to be judged. “As it is now, I’m merely her foster parent.”

Rainbow took a bite of her apple. “That still seems like a big deal.”

“I suppose it is,” Rarity conceded.

“How’s she doing? Do you think she’d like a flying lesson or something?” Rainbow tried to phrase the question as just an offhanded remark, but the fact that she stopped eating her apple as she asked the question gave her away.

I dare suggest that she wants more from you than a flying lesson, Rarity thought, but held her tongue. Though she still harbored a healthy amount of resentment, she had already acknowledged that Rainbow’s reasons for not adopting were sound. But Scootaloo was in a vulnerable state right now, mixed messages were practically guaranteed to do more harm than good. “I’m sure she would, but I fear this whole ordeal has been a lot for her to process. To be perfectly honest with you dear, I think she needs time to come to terms with the fact that you don’t want to adopt her.”

Rainbow Dash bristled openly, setting her jaw and tensing her shoulder muscles. “I-”

“I know, dear. I’m not here to pick a fight with you, and I think she very much still wants you to be a part of her life. Just give her a little time.”

“Okay, but like how much time? I meant it when I told her I want to spend more time with her.”

“I know you did, but you need to let her approach you. She’ll do it when she’s ready.”

“But shouldn't I show her that I was serious? I don’t want her to think I’m blowing her off,” Rainbow protested.

Another biting remark along the lines of you mean like all the other times you actually did blow her off nearly escaped Rarity’s lips but again she held back. “I hate to say it, Rainbow Dash but I fear that you may be somewhat of a sore point for her right now. She’s already going through a lot and well being reminded of...how much she wanted you to adopt her would do more harm than good.”

Rainbow Dash groaned. Whether out of guilt or annoyance Rarity couldn’t be quite sure. “Fine, I guess you’re her mom now, that means you probably know what’s best for her.”

Rarity had no response.

Pinkie reacted to the news as she reacted to most things, offering to throw a party which Rarity made her promise not to do until the adoption was finalized. Twilight seemed intent on studying both her and Scootaloo as part of some sort of analysis with regard to cross race adoption until Rarity pointedly reminded her that she was not a research subject. After that, Twilight was her usual overly helpful self offering both full use of the library as well help navigating any bureaucracy. Rarity briefly considered asking for some sort of royal decree waiving the one year observation period; but then it occurred to her that aside from being unfair to the other ponies struggling through the adoption process, it would be unfair to Scootaloo.

It was apparent that Scootaloo craved some semblance of permanence in what had been a chaotic young life. But there was a reason that the appropriate metaphor was to “put down roots,” roots grew over time. Trees took nurturing before they became an inextricable part of their environment. And so if Scootaloo was ever going to feel like she truly belonged, then Rarity needed to take it slow.

Fluttershy’s reaction was the most predictable. She took in all manner of houseguest, albeit none of them ponies. She offered Rarity the usual platitudes about making sure she took some time for herself and letting Scootaloo find her own comfort zone rather than forcing anything, and of course she offered to fillysit or talk if Rarity ever needed anything.

Which left Applejack. Rarity found her heart thumping faster than normal as she approached Sweet Apple Acres and it had nothing to do with the walk. It was because the word family was not one thrown around lightly at Sweet Apple Acres. Rarity has already seen the lengths Applejack would go to in support of any of the Apple clan, and that knowledge made her feel inadequate.

She knew that she wanted Scootaloo as part of her family, as much for her benefit as Scootaloo’s, but so far it had been on her terms. She hadn’t had to sacrifice anything other than some sleep, being late with a few orders and a few bits for dance lessons. What if one day she had to give up something she really wanted? Applejack would say yes in a heartbeat.

Applejack let out a low whistle as Rarity finished her story. “Wow, that’s a mighty big thing there, Rares”

“Yes, well I figured you should know,” Rarity replied.

“Mind if I offer you some advice?”

“Please.”

“Being a parent ain’t like other things. You got a good head on your shoulders, even if you spend far too much time conditioning that mane on top of it-”

“Now just because I refuse to wash my hair only once a month with Mane and Tail-”

“The point is,” Applejack cleared her throat, earning a sheepish silence. “It ain't gonna be like taking care of Sweetie for a weekend. Yeah, there's going to be some more give and take than a few nights of fitful sleep and-”

“Is it worth it?” Rarity blurted out before Applejack could finish her thought. She immediately chastised herself for the callousness of her question. Regardless, she looked toward her friend for an answer anyway. “I mean..." she stuttered, hoping to mitigate how terrible the question sounded in her head.

In response, Applejack let out a soft, gentle sounding chuckle. “It is, sugarcube. I’d give anything to have my parents back, but I wouldn’t trade my relationship with Bloom for anything else, if that makes any sense.”

Rarity returned home from Sweet Apple Acres to find Scootaloo puttering around the kitchen, a blank expression on her face. Scootaloo didn’t seem upset, but she did seem troubled.

“Is something wrong, dear?”

Scootaloo wheeled around. If there was any evidence that Scootaloo had warmed up to Rarity, it was that she didn't shy away from an honest answer. “I just thought things would change. I’ve never really had a choice and I kinda thought that by making one, things would be different.”

“In what way?”

“I just thought maybe this place would start to ..” Scootaloo’s voice grew faint, as though her words could blow away the wisp of smoke that was her hope. “..feel like home.”

Rarity couldn’t hide her feelings of disappointment, biting her tongue to prevent her from making any audible noises. Ever since she first invited Scootaloo to stay with her, she had endeavored to make the boutique a welcoming place; to hear that Scootaloo didn’t consider it home was more than a little hurtful. But she also couldn’t entirely blame her for not embracing the boutique. For Scootaloo, more than most ponies, perhaps more than anypony, home was a loaded word. “I see.”

“Yeah, I mean it’s nice and all, but it still feels like your kitchen. And outside is your living room and your dress shop, and even the bedroom upstairs feels like yours that you let me stay in.”

“Well, the dress shop is mine,” As soon as Rarity said that, she noticed Scootaloo’s shoulders begin to slump. “But maybe we can do something about the rest of the house?” she added hastily.

Scootaloo tilted her head to the left ever so slightly. “What do you mean?

“Let's see…” Rarity’s eyes darted back and forth, glancing around for something that didn’t have her own personal flourishes. Unfortunately, there were very few things in her carefully cultivated and arranged kitchen that fit that criteria. Finally she got an idea. Rarity picked out a drawer near her stove roughly equal to Scootaloo’s height and quickly emptied its contents onto the counter. “There! This is now your drawer.”

Scootaloo looked skeptical, but she also didn’t scowl. “A drawer?” she asked, wrinkling her nose.

“I understand that this place may not feel like yours, but when I moved it it didn’t really feel like mine either. Remember when we said that we would work together to make this a place you feel welcome?” Scootaloo nodded. “So, here’s a start, and if it’s been a few more days and you’re not feeling more at home, we can try something else, okay?”

But Scootaloo still wore the same perplexed expression. “Start what?”

“That’s your drawer and you may put your things in there,” Rarity said, thinking her point had been obvious.

“But all my stuff is already in the guest room.”

“That’s your room now, Scootaloo.”

Scootaloo let the correction roll off her with a small shrug. “It’s not like I have any kitchen stuff anyway.”

Rarity was forced to concede that Scootaloo was right about that particular point. “Home isn’t just about four walls and a roof, it’s also about the little things. I dare suggest I have more than enough silverware, why don’t you pick out some that you like and that can be your very own set for your very own drawer in what is now your kitchen.”

Scootaloo didn’t seem convinced that selecting some kitchen utensils was going to… do anything really but she didn’t feel like arguing. She began to rummage through the silverware drawer until she found some pieces that didn't look like they came from a dollhouse. “Can I have this one?” Scootaloo asked holding up a rather spartan looking spoon.

“You may have whichever ones you wish.”

“But what if I take your favorite stuff?” Rarity may have been generous but she was also very particular, and Scootaloo really didn’t want a fight about spoons and knives to be the reason she was sent packing early.

“I dare suggest that I am not so petty as to be upset over something as trifling as a fork.” Rarity softened her voice. “I would very much like you to feel that this is your home as much as mine. If some silverware would help you do that, that seems like a worthwhile sacrifice.”

Scootaloo just sighed, but continued to pick out a few of the less ornate pieces that Rarity had collected over the years. But as she collected a full set, mismatched though they were, Rarity could swear she saw Scootaloo release some of the tension she carried around constantly. She even noticed the faintest hint of a smile as Scootaloo organized her drawer, offering a satisfying hmm and affirmative nod as she closed it.

Author's Notes:

This chapter was hard to write for a few reasons, lack of inspiration being chief among them. So I showed a very rough draft of it to my pre-reader HMXTaylorLee and instead of laughing at my crippling inability to write, he made a number of helpful suggestions on where it might be improved.

Why am I telling you this? Because his main story Scootaloo and the Cabinet of Seers has 105 likes and about 2000 views. Both those numbers are absurdly low considering how well crafted a story it is. GO READ IT. SERIOUSLY, DO IT NOW. I'm pretty sure you'll like it, it's got Scootaloo and heartwarming moments, and genuine emotions, and also some cool world building. I gave you a link and everything so go do it.

In the next chapter Rarity gets a deadly case of horn rot which is cured by Raylan, he is then promoted to king of all Equestria. His ascension is one big orgy with him and all the other princess, (also Lyra and Bon Bon because....reasons.)

Why would you do that?

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Scootaloo buzzed home from dance practice on her scooter, exuberant. Rarity had become her foster mom a month ago and since that time Scootaloo had acquired her own set of towels, some dishes and a few more pictures for her walls in her room. There were a few sleepless nights of worry, but she hadn’t cried in a few weeks. The Carousel Boutique still wasn’t home, but it felt like something close.

But right now, at this instant, that didn’t matter, because she had her very own dance solo in an actual show. She could be staying at an orphanage with horribly abusive caretakers and it wouldn’t have lessened the smile on her face one bit. The advanced class was preparing for a show and Toe Tapper had announced the roles at the end of rehearsal. Despite not being in the class for very long, Scootaloo had been cast as one of the featured performers. It wasn’t the lead of the big closing number, and it wasn’t one of the featured tandem, but it was still a solo, which was more than most ponies could say about their roles.

“Rarity, I got a lead! I get my very own solo!” Scootaloo exclaimed gleefully as she burst into the main room of the Carousel Boutique.

“That’s wonderful dear! I’m very proud of you and I want to hear all about it over dinner,” Rarity replied with a smile.

Confused by Rarity’s not wanting to hear all about it right this very moment, Scootaloo looked around and finally noticed the red coated mare standing in front of the mirror with contrasting white and black fabric swatches with an expression that read as more than a little annoyed. “Oh sorry,” she said, blushing.

“Scootaloo this is Scarlett, Scarlett this is my daughter, Scootaloo,” Rarity offered by way of introduction. Though they had agreed not to use the Mom label, introducing Scootaloo as her daughter was the most straightforward way of explaining their relationship; “This is the filly I’ve adopted but it’s not final yet and also we’re not comfortable with the Mom and Daughter label, regardless that is the approximate nature of our relationship” was too unwieldy.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Scootaloo,” Scarlett said before reconsidering her fabric options.

“Nice to meet you too,” Scootaloo replied. “I hope you get a nice dress, miss,” she added, before turning toward the kitchen, slightly embarrassed but still intent on celebrating with a snack.

Scarlett waited until the door to the kitchen closed before speaking again. “I didn’t know you had a daughter. You poor dear, you must have had her so young,” Scarlett said turning her attention to a blueish fabric swatch, whilst Scootaloo retreated from earshot, the judgemental implication clearly evident.

Rarity bristled at the condescension, as though it was anypony’s business how old she might have been when she had her non existent foal. “She’s adopted,” came the flat reply.

Her client visibly released the tension in her shoulders, which Rarity found more condescending than her original choice of words. “Oh. Oh, poor thing. It was awfully kind of you to take her in, considering..

“Considering?” Rarity asked, ceasing to do anything other than look at her client with an icy stare.

Rarity’s glare wasn’t as famed as “The Stare” from Fluttershy, nor did it have the threat of physical violence behind it the way a glare from Rainbow Dash would. Regardless when Rarity fixed her icy, blue eyes on a pony, it was unnerving. “W-what I mean to say is that... you know, her not knowing her real family and all. I can't imagine what that would be like for her,” Scarlett stuttered.

From in the kitchen Scootaloo heard those words and froze where she stood, a fresh wave of self doubt crashing over her. She slumped down against the fridge as she was reminded that Rarity’s client was right, Rarity wasn’t her real family. Her real family had abandoned her and so she was never really going to have a real family, the last few months were just a temporary illusion. But because she couldn’t move, she also heard what came next.

“Excuse me,” Rarity scoffed.

“I didn’t mean to imply you’re not a good mother. I’m sure you’re doing a wonderful job considering the circumstances, but well, it can’t really be the same for her.”

More than a hint of steel crept into Rarity’s voice. “I believe we are done here,” she said, lowering the floating measuring tape down on the table.

“But you haven’t finished my fitting, you didn’t even measure my neck.”

“Trust me you don’t want me anywhere near your neck with anything that could fit around it,” Rarity muttered. “I’m terribly sorry, but I don’t think I’ll be able to make a dress that suits you. Perhaps you should try Filthy’s Barnyard Bargains,” Rarity said louder, not bothering to mask the increasing level of disgust she was feeling.

Scarlett snorted a very audible “Hmph” and muttered something including the phrase “overpriced rags” before storming out, slamming the door behind her.

Rarity set about putting away the measuring tools she no longer needed and Scootaloo slowly walked back into the showroom. Rarity saw her adopted daughter and smiled brightly, Scootaloo’s presence helping to wash away the previous negativity. “Was there something else you needed dear?” she asked with a smile.

“She was going to buy a dress,” Scootaloo said softly.

It took Rarity a moment to realize whom Scootaloo was referring to, having already dismissed Scarlett into the portion of her brain that housed ponies she would never need to remember.“Who? You mean Scarlett?”

“She was going to buy something and you kicked her out,” Scootaloo said, repeating the events as she understood them.

“I didn’t really—”

“Yes you did, you kicked her out just because she said I would never have a real family. Why would you do that?” Scootaloo asked. Her tone wasn’t angry, rather it was one of someone struggling to understand what happened. Had Scarlett threatened her or said something truly awful Scootaloo might have been able to fit that into her understanding of how the world worked, but she couldn't make her interpretation of the facts fit that narrative. All Scarlett had done was told the truth, and even if Rarity was aware that it was an unpleasant truth, likely to hurt Scootaloo’s feelings, that was still no reason to forgo a commision. Bits were important, certainly more important than her feelings.

“Because Scarlett is a boorish, uncouth, haughty cloud-brain who doesn’t know what in Tartarus she is talking about,” Rarity said, covering her mouth as the slur unintentionally slipped past.

“But you would have gotten paid,” Scootaloo repeated, trying to comprehend the mechanics of what she just heard.

Rarity studied Scootaloo and yet again in a countless number of little moments she felt her heart break a little as she watched Scootaloo wrestle with the idea that her feelings were worth far more than whatever profit Rarity would have received from the dress’s sale.

“Perhaps, but—”

“But you didn't and it's my fault.”

“It is not your fault.”

“Yes it is!” Scootaloo insisted. “If you hadn't adopted me, I would never have walked in, and you would—”

“Would have probably kicked her out for a different reason. I have quite enough clients who aren’t judgemental—” Rarity stopped herself before she completed her thought. “There are some words a lady shouldn’t say in polite company; the point is that I wouldn't change a thing about adopting you and don't you for one second think otherwise.”

That Rarity seemed genuinely angry with her former client, actually made Scootaloo feel better, but it didn’t answer her question.“But she's right. We’ll never be a real family. Why do you even bother?”

“Because we are family. Not by blood, perhaps, but that doesn't mean that I love you any less than a biological parent would.”

“But how? Why? How could you?”

Rarity softened her voice and directed Scootaloo to look at one of the many mirrors in her shop. “You don't see yourself like I do, and I wish so much that you could. You don't see the wonderful, talented, special, frankly amazing filly that I'm so happy to see everyday.”

Scootaloo crossed her forelegs and looked away from the reflection. “I'm not any of those things. If I were, I would have a real family, just like she said.”

“If you'll pardon the indulgence, I consider myself to be quite the judge of character. So if I say you are wonderful, talented and special then you are.”

Scootaloo sighed. “If you say so,” she replied, but she still seemed unconvinced.

“I do,” Rarity said with a satisfied smile. “Now, that’s enough of that. What's this I heard about you getting a solo?”

Families Don't Fight

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Scootaloo’s dance recital wasn’t for a few months, and in the interim life proceeded as normal. To Rarity’s delight there weren’t any threats to Equestria requiring the Elements of Harmony to again band together, nor did Twilight’s map call her away to mediate any friendship disputes. In the absence of existential threats, Rarity focused on her business and trying to make Scootaloo accept that she finally found a home.

The business side was going fine, Sassy Saddles was proving to be an adept store manager for the Canterlot location of The Carousel Boutique and her shop in Ponyville continued to have its robust stream of customers. A few investors had approached her about opening up a Manehattan branch, and possibly expanding to Prance, but even if she didn’t have a new family to care for Rarity wasn’t ready to expand her business yet. Still, it was nice to think about as a possible future endeavor.

But no matter how busy she got, Thursday afternoon spa treatments with Fluttershy were a sacred covenant, only to be broken under the most dire of circumstances.

Fluttershy dropped another ladle of water onto the hot rocks, the resulting steam momentarily obscuring her vision and the pair eased into the lounge chairs sauna, letting the heat wash over them. “How’s Scootaloo doing?” Fluttershy asked, wrapping a towel around her mane.

“She’s doing...well, I think.” Rarity sighed. “She’s still closed off and I know that’s just how she is and I don’t expect her to pour her heart out, but it’d be nice if I didn’t have to dig quite so much.”

Fluttershy nodded, being familiar with both the Scootaloo’s attitude and what it was like to wall oneself off. “She’ll come around. I mean do you remember how shy I was when you first met me? And now I can sing on stage and everything, only if no one is watching of course.”

“I suppose you are right, dear,” Rarity said with a smile. “Anyways, that’s enough of that, this is supposed to be a relaxing afternoon, what do you say to a couple of mud masks, my treat.”

Rarity returned home from the spa, much more serene than when she left; until she walked through the door and all the stress that had been massaged away came flooding back. From the foyer she could see that there existed a pile of dough caked bowls in the sink. When she walked into the kitchen, that was only one part of the mess. The floor was caked in a thin layer of flour and what could only generously be described as a cake sat half frosted on the counter. It wasn’t the first time she had come home to a messy kitchen. Sometimes it was crusader business, others just Scootaloo wanting a snack. At first Rarity tried to be understanding (Just do better next time okay?), then she had tried being diplomatic (Remember how we talked about trying a little harder to put your dishes away), but this time she was in no mood to be either.

“Scootaloo!” Rarity bellowed at the top of her lungs. In a few moments Scootaloo came bounding down the stairs, an annoyed expression on her face.

“Scootaloo, would you like to explain to me, why my kitchen is a mess?” Rarity asked as Scootaloo rounded into view.

“We were trying to get baking cutie marks,” Scootaloo said as though that was a perfectly valid explanation.

“I see, and did you not think of maybe cleaning up your mess,” Rarity replied, her anger starting to boil over.

Scootaloo shrugged. “I’ll do it later. You promised not to make me do chores all time,” she said, a slight edge creeping into her voice.

“This isn’t about doing your chores, this is your kitchen too and I expect you to take some small measure of pride in how it looks.”

At the remark Scootaloo arched her back ever so slightly and dug her front hooves into the floor. “If it’s my kitchen, then I’m fine with a few dirty dishes in the sink. Everything doesn’t have to be spotlessly clean, all the time!” Scootaloo fired back.

“Scootaloo if you don’t clean your mess up right now, so help me,” Rarity said through gritted teeth. When she was younger her mother used a similar threat, looking back Rarity had always thought it was because the unknown was more terrifying than any possible punishment but now she knew that it was because she simply didn’t know how to finish that sentence. But Scootaloo neither moved toward the counter, nor did she say anything and Rarity’s anger clouded her judgement enough to where she couldn’t distinguish the expression on Scootaloo’s face. She groaned in frustration, releasing a most un-ladylike grunt. “Oh just go, I don’t want to see you right now.”

Rarity was too angry to notice Scootaloo’s eyes growing wider before she turned around and sprinted up the stairs, but she did hear the very telltale slam of Scootaloo’s bedroom door.

It wasn’t as though Scootaloo’s being upset didn’t concern her, but the mess in her kitchen presented a more dire issue. She sighed and magically pulled her mop from the corner while she began to scour the more stubborn remnant of dried dough off of her mixing bowls. She seethed as she swept the crumbs off from the countertops and she was practically boiling by the time she wrung the mop free of the last bits of floury residue from the floor.

Scootaloo was grounded that much was certain, the only question was if she would ever be allowed to see the light of day before she graduated high school. And she was definitely not allowed to ride her scooter for the next year, that seemed fair. Rarity wasn’t so cruel as to tell her she couldn’t interact with her friends, but for the foreseeable future that would be restricted to school and letter writing. Finally Scootaloo was going to spend her entire weekend scouring every last nook and cranny in the Boutique, using only a toothbrush.

The evening grew later, and Scootaloo still didn’t emerge from her room. Rarity had calmed down by this point. For one, she had decided against taking Scootaloo’s scooter away, that seemed disproportionate. And the orange filly would be allowed to see the light of the sun again, after a week and no she wasn’t about to make her clean the house with a toothbrush. But Rarity did feel as though she was owed some form of apology, so she busied herself sketching designs until Scootaloo saw fit to offer one. Eventually, Rarity grew tired of waiting for Scootaloo to see the error of her ways and took the initiative herself.

She made a concerted effort to push down any residual anger she was feeling. Scootaloo needed to be held accountable but it did nopony any good if she instigated another screaming match.

Rarity reached the door and softly knocked three times. “Scootaloo?”

“Go away, I don’t want to see you right now,” Scootaloo called from behind the locked door, echoing Rarity’s sentiments from earlier.

“That may be true, but I wish to see you.” An afternoon with Twilight had calibrated all the locks on Rarity’s house to respond to her particular magical energy resonance, it was more practice for Twilight, but Rarity did like the thought that only she could open any door in her house. A quick horn flare was all it took before she heard the telltale “thunk” of the bolt sliding back into the door and she promptly entered.

Scootaloo had assumed the posture familiar to parents everywhere, lying on her stomach with her face buried into her pillow. Upon hearing the creak of the door, she looked over her shoulder, her eyes bloodshot.

“Just say it,”she croaked out throatly before Rarity had a chance to speak.

“Say what?”

“That this isn’t working out and you want me to be happy and that you think it’d be best for both of us if you wrote to Autumn and told him to start looking for somepony else to adopt me.”

And with that Rarity’s idea to punish Scootaloo was stopped dead in its tracks. “That’s what you think I came in here to say?”

“I don’t know.” As Scootaloo said that the last bit of the self control she had crumbled, leaving a quivering filly in place of the defiant Scootaloo that had been there before. “I’m sorry,” Scootaloo choked through the tears. Before Rarity could say anything Scootaloo continued, her words difficult to discern through her muffled sobs. “I’m sorry okay, please don’t, I’m sorry.”

Faced with the heart wrenching scene Rarity couldn’t do anything other than open her forelegs to invite Scootaloo in for a hug. Scootaloo hesitated for only a second before stumbled forward and buried herself into Rarity’s coat. Rarity was taken aback by the desperation that Scootaloo clung to her with and she didn’t say anything for a full minute, instead option to gingerly stroke Scootaloo’s soft purple mane. “It's okay, I’m sorry too,” she said, continuing her efforts to calm Scootaloo down.

Scootaloo instantly froze, the words I’m sorry having been offered as a precursor to bad news far too often. I’m sorry that you’re not happy, I’m sorry that this isn’t going to work, I’m sorry but I can’t adopt you. She let out a pitiful yelp that caused Rarity to squeeze her in a gesture of reassurance.

“I owe you an apology. The way I reacted was, well it was completely uncalled for.”

Scootaloo fidgeted from within the embrace, her tail shaking and her ears pinned back against her head, unsure what to say to avoid instigating anything further. Rarity continued, “But I’m also sorry that the first thing that comes to mind when I raise my voice is that you think I'm considering giving you up.”

“Well you are, aren't you?” Her voice was still ragged but the briefest hint of fire flashed in her eyes.

“No, I'm not. And I wouldn't dream of it either.”

“Do you really mean that?”

Those five words set off an epiphany. For the past four months Rarity had been telling herself that her strategy of being patient was working. Slow going as it may be eventually Scootaloo would realize that she had found a family and then all of her self esteem problems would disappear. But now it was apparent her prognostication was flawed. Scootaloo’s fear of abandonment ran far deeper than just needing some superficial sense of security, which meant that Scootaloo would need actual, professional help. But now wasn’t the time to dwell on that, she still had an emotionally distraught filly to comfort. “Of course I do.” Rarity let those words hang in the air, not daring to add any qualifiers, because there weren’t any.

Scootaloo’s eyes grew wider but she didn’t offer any other reactions.

“I also need to remind you that, as your official guardian, it's also my unfortunate responsibility to discipline you from time to time.”

Scootaloo instinctively tensed her muscles and gritted her teeth, but in an admirable act of self control she restricted her outburst to a demure,“What do you mean?”

“This isn't the first time that our kitchen has been the victim of your... baking attempts.”

“But we were sure that this time we would get our cutie marks,” Scootaloo responded, somewhat indignantly.

Rarity ignored the excuse and pressed onward. “And though I've tried to be as, shall we say, lax, about it as possible, I do expect you clean up after yourself. You're old enough to take responsibility for your actions.”

“I'll help you clean it, right now, even!” Scootaloo pushed herself away from Rarity and leaped off the bed, only to be caught in a blue glow that pulled her back.

“I cleaned it already, Scootaloo. So, I'm grounding you, for a week,” Rarity said, careful to keep her voice even keeled.

“That’s not fair.” Scootaloo pouted.

“I think it’s plenty fair. It shouldn't take the threat of punishment to make you want to clean up after yourself.”

Scootaloo stared intently at the ground and Rarity just looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

“But I said I was sorry,” Scootaloo said as a final measure of protest, still looking at the ground.

“And I forgive you.” Rarity sighed. “We need to be able to fight without this happening,” she said, deciding to broach the obvious topic.

"What are you talking about?”

"We have to be able to live with each other, including an occasional squabble, without you thinking that I'm going to send you away."

Scootaloo’s head jerked up sharply. “What are you talking about? Families don’t fight.”

Rarity laughed, the sound breaking the quiet tension that had been building. “How long have you known me and Sweetie? Applebloom and Applejack? You can’t really believe that families don’t fight.”

Scootaloo was forced to consider that statement. She had spent so long holding onto this idealized picture of what a family would be like that she had conveniently forgotten to consider what she knew about the actual families in her life and not just Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom. Rainbow Dash only talked about her Dad, and never very much and she had seen Dinky argue with her mother at Sugar Cube Corner. There was no reason that she and Rarity should be any different.

“You really weren’t going to send me to Baltimare?” she replied, still pondering the implications of Rarity’s previous statement.

“No.” Rarity paused and smiled softly. “When I was downstairs, cleaning your mess, I swore I was going to ground you and take away your scooter and make you scrub the entire house til it was spotless. But never once did I even think of you not living here anymore.”

“Oh,” Scootaloo said quietly. “You’re not going to take away my scooter are you?”

“No.” Feeling emboldened Rarity dared to press her luck. “I know that trusting ponies is hard for you, but you owe me the benefit of the doubt.” Rarity was careful not to phrase her statement as a request, I’d like it if you would or a demand. It was simply a statement of fact; Rarity had demonstrated her goodwill enough that it was high time Scootaloo met her halfway, and that included not worrying that the slightest transgression was going to end their relationship.

“I don’t know if I can,” Scootaloo whispered, the flood of memories where she was continually cast aside screaming at her. The next thing she knew she was bathed in a familiar blue light as the accompanying warming sensation washed over her. Rarity stood up and proceeded to tuck Scootaloo into bed, while Scootaloo lay still, unable to stop the happy whinny that escaped her throat.

“Can you try?” Rarity asked softly, releasing Scootaloo from the swaddling spell after she had secured the blankets around her shoulders.

Scootaloo nodded. “I can do that.”

Common Knowledge

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A few days later Rarity found herself in a psychiatrist office while Scootaloo waited outside. Dr. Sunshine had come recommended by Cheerliee, and seeing no reason to doubt the school teachers expertise Rarity booked the first available appointment. Despite Scootaloo's turbulent history, Autumn had done an admirable job maintaining the integrity of her medical records. Between Rarity's answering her questions and the medical records in front of her Dr. Sunshine was able to get a clear picture of the challenge she was being presented with.

"Do you think you can help?" Rarity asked after the doctor had finished asking her questions.

"That depends entirely on her," the doctor said looking up from her notes that had begun accumulating on a yellow legal pad.

"How so?"

"Therapy is a process, but it's also about learning a skill, in this case how to manage your feelings. From what you've told me Scootaloo has trouble controlling her negative thoughts. I can teach her control, but if she's unwilling to put in the effort then nothing I do will matter."

"I see." Rarity paused, considering whether what she was about to say next was really the best idea. "I love her but I am forced to concede she can be quite stubborn, I fear she might not be so eager to commit so readily. "

The doctor smiled, one borne of years of treating stubborn children. "She wouldn't be the first. Why don't I go get her?"

Scootaloo hated waiting rooms and she had frequented them enough to form, what Twilight would call, a representative sample size. It wasn’t the old magazines or uncomfortable chairs, or even the terrible artwork that bothered her, it was the selection of toys available. She understood that waiting rooms weren’t toy stores, or even supposed to be fun, but it wouldn’t kill them to put in a little effort she often mused as she tried to find something to do during the intolerable periods she was forced to spend waiting for her turn to see whatever professional she was here to see. This waiting room had the usual selection of toys for babies, those beads that followed a curly wire path and stuffed bears. For older kids there was a lone Power Ponies action figure, a monster whose origins Scootaloo couldn’t place, and some coloring books with a bucket of broken crayons.

If anything, Scootaloo was surprised that it had taken this long; usually new parents took her to the doctor much sooner. And when she learned that it was a psychiatrist, it still didn’t faze her either; so when Rarity had carefully mentioned that she wanted to take Scootaloo to a doctor a few days ago it wasn’t a big deal.

As she sat in the waiting room she reflected on how she knew the next hour of her life would play out. She’d answer some stupid questions about how she was feeling and then she’d be sent out back into the waiting room while the doctor told Rarity, “She’s processing a traumatic experience and she’s understandably still wrestling with her emotions. Just give her time,” while Scootaloo listened at the door. Since time was a nebulous word it would be a few months before Rarity brought up the subject again, but when she did it would inevitably be “Why are you still not happy here?”

But there was nothing to be done about that now, so while Rarity went to talk with the doctor, Scootaloo busied herself with one of the less colored-in pictures of the coloring book. She wasn’t really mad at Rarity, even though she spent a good portion of the morning brooding. She was just about to put the finishing touches on a picture of Daring Do escaping a collapsing temple when she heard a voice.

“Scootaloo?”

Scootaloo looked up to see a bright yellow pegasus with a fiery, orange mane standing in the center of the room. At first glance Scootaloo thought she looked like Spitfire, but a closer inspection revealed some key differences. Even under normal circumstances, Spitfire wore a determined sort of expression, signaling to all that she was a mare to be taken seriously. In contrast, the doctor's expression seemed to be perpetually quizzical, as though she was always pondering something of great importance. She wore a pair of rosegold wire-rimmed glasses and a silver necklace with a small crescent moon. Based on looks Scootaloo placed her age at older than Rarity but only by a few years.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Sunshine,” the mare said with a smile.

Scootaloo studied the smile for any sign of deception, but found it genuine. Rather than make any movements she just stood there, waiting to see how Dr. Sunshine would respond.

“Why don’t you come in?” The doctor said gesturing toward an office abutting the waiting room. The first thing Scootaloo noticed was that the office was lined with bookcases. That wasn’t unusual, lots of doctors had bookcases in their office, but these bookcases held an assortment of toys and puppets. In particular, Scootaloo’s gaze settled on a transparent box filled with blockos. She looked around expecting to see Rarity but her caregiver was nowhere to be found. Scootaloo assumed she left through the door on the other side of the office.

Dr. Sunshine waited until Scootaloo became acclimated before speaking again. “Therapy is about helping us understand our thoughts and feelings. I find it useful if a patient has a specific goal in mind, so what are you hoping to get out of this?” she said falling back to her introductory speech she gave all new patients. But rather than respond Scootaloo opted to just stare at her. The silence was mildly unnerving, even for a trained psychologist, most patients at least waited until after introductions before they shut down. “It doesn’t have to be something hard, it can be as simple as just wanting to sleep better at night.”

Finally Scootaloo spoke, but when she did her tone was colored with anger. “You’re one of those feelings doctors who want me to talk about why I’m sad. Well, I don’t want to talk about it and I don’t need anyone pretending to be my friend,” Scootaloo said figuring that would pre-empt whatever else the doctor was planning on saying. Just because she wasn't mad at Rarity for bringing her didn't mean she welcomed the experience.

If there was one thing Dr. Sunshine disagreed with her colleagues about, it was the use of terms like “typical” and “textbook.” Ponies react to trauma in a myriad of different ways and all of them were detailed in one textbook or another. Some ponies who had been through similar experiences as Scootaloo reacted in much the way she did, becoming wary of trusting anypony; others had the opposite problem, becoming overly attached to their new caregivers to the point where even going to school was cause for separation anxiety. Still others reacted by becoming fixated on objects, or pulling at their manes, or developing eating disorders; so every time Dr. Sunshine heard a patient described as having a typical case of anything, she cringed.

Other colleagues might have diagnosed Scootaloo as having attachment disorder “typical” in fillies who were abandoned around her age, or a textbook case of rebelling against authority in order to regain a semblance of control over their own life, Dr. Sunshine did her best to reserve her judgement until she got to know the filly standing in front of her better. And now that Scootaloo had responded, the doctor had something she could react to. “I’m not trying to be your friend, I’d like to be your doctor. Why don’t you want to talk about being sad?” The doctor said, quickly brushing off Scootaloo’s mild hostility.

“Because it’s not like talking is going to make me less sad. Why can’t we be friends?” Scootaloo answered. It wasn’t that Scootaloo was looking for an adult friend who wanted to talk about feelings all the time, but having been told that she wasn’t getting one made her a little curious. The other doctors she had met with usually said something along the lines of “I hope we become friends,” or some other useless platitude, so if nothing else this was something different.

Dr. Sunshine continued the verbal volleying, keeping her tone even and free of judgement. “Because as your doctor I need you to tell me what’s bothering you. You don’t always tell your friends everything do you?”

“No,” Scootaloo admitted.

“Why not?”

“Sometimes we’re having fun and I don’t want to ruin it, so what?”

“That’s good, that’s very healthy behavior. You consider other ponies feelings before speaking, that’s something friends do,” Dr. Sunshine said, making a note on her legal pad.

“Yeah, because I want them to like me,” Scootaloo said, the first cracks of frustration beginning to show on her facade.

Dr. Sunshine looked up and smiled, albeit only slightly. “That’s the other reason we can’t be friends. If I’m going to help you, I can’t worry about wanting you to like me, and you shouldn’t worry about wanting me to like you.”

Thwarted in her attempt to set her own terms, Scootaloo tried a different approach. “I don’t even know why I’m here. You’re just going to tell what I say to Rarity anyway, so shouldn’t I just talk to her if talking is supposed to help,” Scootaloo replied, continuing to challenge the boundaries of this new relationship.

Dr. Sunshine let out a long drawn out breath, she really hadn’t expected to confront this issue so early, but just because it was an unexpected turn of events didn’t mean she was unprepared for it. Scootaloo clearly had very little tolerance for equivocating so the doctor spoke plainly. “You’ve touched upon a delicate issue. If you were a grown up, you could tell me anything and I wouldn’t be allowed to to tell anyone, no matter what. In fact I couldn’t even tell anyone that you are a patient.” That statement wasn’t strictly true, but it was close enough.

“Why?” Scootaloo asked, her genuine curiosity pushing past her standoffish instincts for a moment.

“Because patients need to be able to trust their doctors, so doctors take an oath never to tell their patients secrets. It’s called confidentiality and it’s very important.”

Scootaloo nodded slowly. “Okay.”

“But you’re not a grown up, and not all doctors agree about whether it’s okay to tell your parents what we talk about.”

“So you are going to tell?” Scootaloo said, bristling at being called a child and at Rarity being considered her parent, even if both were true.

The doctor shook her head. “No. I want to help you, and you need to trust me for that to happen. So, I give you my word, as a psychiatrist, that I will treat you as I would any other grown up patient.”

Scootaloo’s habit of pushing ponies away again reared its head. “What if Rarity says she won’t pay you anymore? I know you’re not doing this for free,” she shot back.

“Then you won’t be my patient anymore and I still won’t tell her. Do you think she would do that?”

Rarity’s words echoed in her head, You owe me the benefit of the doubt. “No. I think she’d rather I get better,” Scootaloo said softly, looking at the ground.

From their introduction and brief interaction, Dr. Sunshine began to form a preliminary assessment of her new patient. It was becoming clear that Scootaloo’s response to her past was to try and understand the motivations of other ponies. It was an understandable reaction; subconsciously if she could figure out why ponies did what they did, she could one day figure out why two sets of parents had abandoned her. “Good. The other thing you need to know is that I will never lie to you. Not because I’m some kind of wonderful pony, but because I need you to trust me if I’m going to be able to do my job,” she said, careful to put her promise in terms Scootaloo could relate to.

Her phrasing worked and Scootaloo noded slowly again, her tail swishing back and forth. “Okay,” Scootaloo replied cautiously.

“You also need to know that I will believe anything you tell me. You never have to worry about me thinking you’re being silly or lying. If I expect you to trust me then I need to trust you too. No matter what you say, I will assume you are telling me the truth, always,” Dr. Sunshine said, continuing to set the terms of her practice.

“The sky is purple,” Scootaloo said looking directly at the doctor for the first time.

Scootaloo wasn’t the first patient who responded to a declaration of trust with an obvious lie. Dr. Sunshine turned to look out the window and studied the sky. “It looks blue to me, does it matter to you what color the sky is?”

“No, it’s blue,” Scootaloo said, again averting her gaze.

There were generally two goals Dr. Sunshine had for a first meeting with a patient, the first was to interact enough to begin forming a preliminary diagnosis, the second was to establish the parameters of the doctor-patient relationship. It wasn’t uncommon for patients, especially children to push back against that second part and Scootaloo was proving to be no exception.

Years of practice helped the doctor refine her tone for what she said next. It was firm, but free of hostility or judgement. “I’ve worked with a lot of children, Scootaloo. I’ve helped them cope with many of the same feelings you’re feeling. I believe I can help you, but you have to let me or else we’re both just wasting our time here. Do you understand?” Implicit in the question was the ultimatum that the doctor wasn’t one who spent her time frivolously.

Scootaloo felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up and she dug her hooves into the ground. Before she moved in with Rarity she might have snapped at the doctor, something about how she didn’t need anypony’s help, but ever since this chapter of her life had begun she couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe there were ponies out there, like Rarity and Sweetie Belle, who maybe could help her not be so broken. And would it really be the worst thing in the world to give the doctor a chance? If nothing else, it would make Rarity happy and Scootaloo was already racking up a debt in that department. “Yeah, I get it,” she said softly.

“Good.” The doctor softened her tone and made sure to look Scootaloo directly in the eyes. “Therapy takes time, there isn’t going to be some magical moment where everything makes sense. It’s a bit like, well it’s a bit like running a race. You keep taking one step after the other and then you look back and you realize how far you’ve come. You mentioned that you were sad a lot, I thought maybe we could start by talking about that?”

“I already told you, it’s not like talking about it is going to make me feel better.”

“So you want to be happier?” the doctor said, continuing to gently pry into Scootaloo’s psyche.

“Well sure, doesn’t everypony?”

“Most do. But like I said it’s important to have goals for what you hope to get out of this. So what if, instead of talking about what makes you sad, we try to explore what might make you happier?”

“I don’t know, it sounds like they're the same thing.”

“They certainly are similar, but I think fundamentally they are two different things. That’s another thing we can talk about,” the doctor said making another notation on her legal pad. Scootaloo didn’t say anything and sensing that she was on the verge of damaging what little rapport she had built up, Dr. Sunshine pulled back. “But we can talk about that next time. Would you like to play with some toys? I saw you looking at that box of blockos earlier.”

Not that Scootaloo would have minded being finished with all of these stupid questions, but it felt strange that she would be able to finish her appointment by just playing with some toys. “How’s that supposed to help me?”

“Other than playing with blockos is fun and it’s important to have fun? It probably won’t. I think we’ve done enough of the hard stuff for today. We’ve met each other and talked about what you’re hoping to get out of this, that’s a good start. We still have some time left, so we can either sit here and do nothing or you can help me build something? It can be whatever you like, I’m not picky.”

Scootaloo studied the doctor for a second time and decided that she wasn’t objectively terrible. “This isn’t a trick? We can just play with the blockos?”

“Like I said, I will never trick you. Here, I’m even putting away my notes,” Dr. Sunshine said, placing her pad and pen on the desk behind her as Scootaloo watched intently. She then reached up on the shelf, grabbed the box of blockos and proceeded to dump its contents on the floor in the middle of her office.

Scootaloo took a small step forward and gently rummaged through the pile of toy bricks on the floor. It didn’t take long for her to noticed an arch shaped door piece. “That looks like it could be a draw bridge, we could build a castle?”

“A castle sounds like fun. Where should we start?”

Scootaloo picked up the drawbridge piece and placed in the middle of a large flat base, she then looked at the doctor expectantly but was met with a similar expression.

“What do you need me to do?”

Still skeptical that she was actually going to get to play without undergoing some sort of examination Scootaloo poked at the mound of blockos. “Well I guess we need some long black pieces for the walls and some square ones for the things on top.”

Dr. Sunshine began picking through the pile, selecting the pieces that met Scootaloo’s criteria. “They’re called ramparts,” she said offhoofedly.

“The ramparts then. I think they should be grey.”

The rest of the hour proceeded similarly, with Scootaloo calling out exactly what types of pieces she would need and Dr. Sunshine dutifully finding them from the pile on the floor. There was a shortage of black pieces so Scootaloo decided to make the walls both black and grey, and the pair also added some windows that hadn't been in Scootaloo's original plan. At the end of the hour the pair had constructed a perfectly respectable castle complete with a small guardhouse outside the main structure.

“Well it looks like that’s all the time we have today,” Dr. Sunshine called out before the pair could begin construction of a small town outside the main walls.

Scootaloo set down a grey piece that was to emulate a stony barrier, wearing a mixed expression on her face. Relief, gladdened the visit with the therapist was done, but traced with flecks of disappointment that her fluid castle building came to a sudden, jarring, halt.

"Okay," Scootaloo said blankly, "Looks like we didn't finish."

Dr. Sunshine rose from the floor taking the castle with her, and circled around behind her neatly organized desk. "It takes time to build a proper castle," she replied. "Even if we didn't completely finish it, I hope you enjoyed making progress on it."

"It was fun, I guess," Scootaloo shrugged her shoulders. "Though I still don't understand why we did it. I don't think this is what Rarity had in mind when she brought me here," she added.

"If that’s really important, I can ask her for you," Dr. Sunshine offered as she opened a small, brown booklet with the word ‘Appointments’ imprinted on the front in gold lettering. "I'd like to speak with her for a moment, actually. Could you ask her to come see me, please?"

"Going to tell her what I told you?" Scootaloo demanded, her posture stiffening just slightly.

"I made you a promise that I wouldn't do that, Scootaloo," Dr. Sunshine said with a profound calmness that irked Scootaloo something fierce. "I'm simply going to offer my advice, and, if you and Rarity decide to continue, schedule our next appointment."

Scootaloo muttered something incomprehensible under her breath and traipsed to the main door of the doctor's office. She vanished into the waiting room, the door silently creeping to a close behind her. Roughly a minute later, it opened just as noiselessly, handle awash in a blue glow at the behest of the white unicorn mare that entered the office afterwards.

"You wanted to see me?" Rarity asked politely, approaching the desk with trepidation.

"I did," Dr. Sunshine gestured to the generously padded chair immediately to Rarity's right. "Would you like to take a seat?"

"Oh dear," Rarity balked.

"Oh no, it's not like that!" Dr. Sunshine laughed aloud. "Just trying to be polite. This won't take long."

Rarity sat down opposite the doctor and absentmindedly wrung her forehooves together.. "So, how did everything go today?" she asked, bracing herself for the news that she had somehow irrevocably damaged the filly she was charged with caring for.

"It went well. We’ve begun to establish a relationship and we worked together to build this,” Dr. Sunshine said gesturing to the castle that now rested on the edge of her desk.

Rarity tried to suppress the look of surprise, but she was only moderately successful. “A castle? You played with toys?

The doctor nodded. “As I'm sure you know, Scootaloo seems to take a long while to open up. Rather than waste everypony’s time asking questions that she didn't want to answer, I thought our time would be better served giving her a chance to get comfortable.”

“I suppose that makes sense. Did it, um, did it take?”

“Common knowledge to you, again, she was rather guarded.”

Rarity sighed, it was unreasonable of her to expect that one visit would somehow cause Scootaloo to suddenly open up. “I see,” she said, her lips pursed.

“Sometimes a pony's artistic creations can help shed some light on what matters to them, especially if they aren't comfortable saying it aloud.”

Rarity immediately thought of Scootaloo’s drawings of Rainbow Dash, but she couldn’t see a connection between a blocko castle and what she knew of Scootaloo, if nothing else Scootaloo had never expressed any interest in old stone buildings.”What do you mean?”

“Notice what she built.”

“It's a castle,” Rarity guessed, stating the obvious conclusion.

“Yes, it’s a castle. A fortress surrounded by stone walls to keep its inhabitants safe from any danger that may exist outside.” It didn’t take a psychology degree to realize what the doctor was implying. “But a castle is also a home. A place of comfort and security,” the doctor finished. Rarity murmured a note of approval which the doctor took as her cue to continue. “Now, should you choose to continue with our visits, you should know that I can’t tell you what we discuss. I believe that doctor-patient confidentiality applies to children too. But I believe that, with time, I can help Scootaloo. To carry on with our metaphor, perhaps break down the castle walls.”

“What times do you have next week?”

Feather Drift

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Scootaloo’s dance recital was next Friday, and in between school, dance practice and her now weekly visits to Dr. Sunshine, Scootaloo didn’t really have time to dwell on the ticking clock counting down the days til either Rarity inevitably kicked her out or she became officially adopted.

Somewhat to Scootaloo’s surprise, Rainbow had followed up her declaration and made a concerted effort insert herself into Scootaloo’s life, even if said life was a little busier than usual. First, her big sister-ish took her out for ice cream. That was pretty okay— after all, everypony likes ice cream.

And then the next week Rainbow had taken her flying, which again was fun. Perched on Rainbow’s back, the wind coursing through her mane, her wings spread wide; with her eyes closed, it was easy to imagine that she was the one soaring through the air. But both of those experiences were strangely unfulfilling. Scootaloo wasn’t sure why, but both times she felt slightly more hollow afterward then she did before.

However, right now, none of that mattered. It was a Friday night, there was no homework to be done, and she didn’t have to wake up until noon tomorrow. After a late afternoon of crusading, she quickly hurried upstairs to drop her stuff off and have a quick shower. Freshly scrubbed, a light hunger began to gnaw at her, which meant a trip to the kitchen was in order.

Upon reaching the bottom of the stairs, she found Rarity wearing a sequined blue evening gown, levitating different pairs of earrings up to her ears.
.
“Why are you all dressed up?”

“I have a date tonight,” Rarity said proudly.

“With a colt?” Scootaloo scrunched her snout. “Yuck”

Rarity could only laugh. “Just wait til you're older.”

“Whatever.” Scootaloo shrugged. Not being of any use in answering questions of the “How do I look?” variety, she scurried into the kitchen intent on finding a snack to fuel her night of dance practice and horror movies.

Rarity spent the next five minutes fussing over her mane in the mirror before the doorbell rang. After giving herself one last check in the mirror, Rarity trotted over to answer the bell. She tugged the door open with an air every bit as tantalizing as her ensemble. On the other side of the door stood a yellow-coated, green-maned stallion, wearing a black satin bowtie.

Primping her mane, Rarity drew his attention to her most fabulous features. “Well, don’t you look quite dashing,” she said by way of a greeting.

“And may I say, you look lovely,” the stallion, Feather Drift, replied with the faintest hint of a cocksure smirk.

“I would be hurt if you didn’t,” Rarity answered, not missing a beat. “So, tell me, where will we be dining this evening?”

Feather Drift rested a hoof on the doorframe, leaning in. “I made reservations at Olive’s Garden. They’re not easy to get, but you’re worth it.” The smirk he continued to sport was more than a little off-putting but Rarity let it slide.

Before Rarity could suggest they begin their evening, Scootaloo came sprinting out of the kitchen. “Bye, Rarity,” Scootaloo called out with a wave as she scampered up the stairs.

Rarity waved back and turned her attention back to her date. “Who was that?” he asked. His tone less friendly than Rarity would have preferred.

“Oh, she’s my daughter. Her name is Scootaloo and I’d have invited her, but I thought a nice candlelight dinner for two would be more romantic,” Rarity said, fluttering her fastidiously mascaraed eyelashes.

Feather Drift stepped back to a more comfortable distance. “I, uh, I didn’t know you had a daughter” he stammered, his confident attitude and smirk long-since gone.

“Yes, well, I’m sure there are lots of things you don’t know about me. That’s why we’re going to dinner is it not?” Rarity said, with what she hoped was an inviting smile.

“Oh. You know what, I just remembered that I have to, well there’s this thing with my buddy and I really just forgot about it and he’d be hurt if I didn’t show up and yeah....” Feather Drift’s voice trailed off as he furtively looked around for the quickest path away from the Boutique.

Though Rarity was practiced at hiding her emotions, even she couldn’t conceal the sting of rejection. Though Feather Drift’s chances of a second date had been dwindling by the second ever since he opened the door, Rarity still felt her chest tighten. “Oh, I see. Perhaps we could try this again some other time?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty busy over the next month actually, but well, I’ll write you a letter when I’m available.”

“Sure,” Rarity said half-heartedly. Closing the door, Rarity banished the stain that was Feather Dust from her eye, though the action did little to assuage her wounded pride.

Hearing the door close Scootaloo came bounding down the stairs only to find Rarity staring crestfallen at the now-empty foyer.

“You’re still here?”

“It would appear that I am,” Rarity said with a forlorn sigh.

“Why?”

“Would that I knew the answer to that, dear.” Rarity sighed again, ruminating on why there seemed to be no good stallions in Equestria. “If you don’t mind, I think I’d prefer to be alone right now.” Rarity took one last look at the now closed door and began to trudge over to her parlor room and its mini-freezer full of ice cream that was soon to be in dire need of restocking.

Scootaloo shrugged. She was too young to understand the pain of heartbreak, but she did know what a sad pony looked like—she knew the one in the mirror well.

Then, somewhat to her surprise, she got angry as she processed the chain of events as she knew them. Rarity was planning on going on a date, she was talking with some guy who probably was her date, now he was gone and Rarity was sad, which meant that he probably made her sad. That wasn’t fair. Some random jerk shouldn’t get to make her...Rarity...upset.

Scootaloo trotted over and gently hugged Rarity’s forelegs. “I’m sorry,”

Rarity smiled before lighting up in earnest. As Scootaloo pulled back, Rarity raised a hoof and ran it through Scootaloo’s ever-messy mane. “Scootaloo? Would you like to go to dinner?”

Her brow furrowing, Scootaloo tilted her head just a bit. “Huh?”

“I believe there is a reservation at Olive’s Garden, and it would be a shame to let it go to waste.”

“I don’t really like Itallineighn food.”

“They have things other than spaghetti, dear.”

Scootaloo considered the offer. She was looking forward to practicing her routine and then watching Nightmare Night 1 and 2, but Rarity’s offer was so tinged with hope that it felt cruel to say no. She remembered what Rarity had said about families not being perfect. Sometimes they fight and maybe sometimes they did things they didn’t really want to do.

“Okay,” Scootaloo said with a shrug.

Rarity’s smile brightened. “Splendid! Though you will have to put on a dress, I’m afraid.”

Scootaloo wrinkled her snout in disgust. “Ugh, really?” she groaned.

The childish antic elicited a quick laugh. “Yes really. Come, I’m sure there must be something in your closet.”

After a brief deliberation, Scootaloo selected a yellow sundress that she generally didn’t hate. Looking at the pair of them in the mirror, Rarity was struck by the marked difference between their body language.

Rarity didn’t so much wear her dress as much as she allowed it to hang off of her body. Half of fashion was confidence and Rarity’s gait led to the conclusion that the dress she was wearing should be so fortunate to be her ensemble for the evening.

In contrast, Scootaloo retreated into her dress, using it as a shield between her and the rest of the world. The way she slumped her shoulders and stared at the ground practically screamed: “Isn’t my dress nice? Pay no attention to the pony who's wearing it.”

Rarity gingerly pushed Scootaloo’s shoulders down and lifted her chin up. “The key to fashion is confidence,” she began with her mini-lecture. “No matter how you’re actually feeling, you should act as though you are the most glamorous mare in the room.”

“But what if I don’t feel like that?” Scootaloo said, tilting her neck and trying out her new stance.

“Ah, but they,” Rarity gestured to an imaginary audience, “don’t know that. That, my dear, is the key to confidence.”

Scootaloo studied her reflection in the mirror and for the first time since she could remember she didn’t feel so bad about the reflection staring back at her. She offered mirror Scootaloo a smile.

“Well, let’s go then. We wouldn’t want them to give our reservation away.”

Dance Recital

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“How are you?”

Scootaloo sighed, though she was a new patient, she quickly realized that all her visits with Dr. Sunshine would follow the same pattern. First, they would talk about anything that had happened since their last visit. Dr. Sunshine would ask questions, usually along the lines of “And how did that make you feel?” (though she never actually uttered that exact phrase). Then they would talk about anything Scootaloo had planned for the next few days, and the doctor would ask her how she felt about those things. Finally, the doctor would ask Scootaloo if she had anything else she’d like to talk about and then if there was any time left they would build something out of blockos.

Despite her penchant for walling herself off, Scootaloo found it hard to hate Dr. Sunshine. It wasn’t that she enjoyed answering questions about herself but the doctor had a way of pulling answers out of her that didn’t feel demeaning or patronizing. She was remarkably understanding and never judgmental. Or maybe it was just because for one hour a week Scootaloo knew that her feelings were the most important thing in the room. Furthermore, much to Scootaloo’s surprise, she hadn’t once brought up anything about Scootaloo’s past. Not one word about her birth parents, or her first set of foster parents abandoning her or any of her subsequent living situations. For the first few visits, Scootaloo was pleasantly surprised that the topic hadn’t come up, but now it was beginning to feel like an elephant in the room.

“How come we never talk about my birth parents?” Scootaloo blurted out before Dr. Sunshine could ask her next question.

Dr. Sunshine looked up from her notebook. “Do you want to talk about your birth parents?”

“I don't know,” Scootaloo responded, momentarily chastised.

The doctor turned the page of her notebook and held her pen flush against the page. “We're here to talk about what you think is important. If you think talking about your biological parents will help you move forward then let's explore that.”

“Isn't that why I'm here?”

“Why do you think that?”

“Oh c’mon!” Scootaloo snapped. “I'm an orphan! My parents didn't want me, nopony else ever wants me and that's why I'm so messed up. You don't even need a fancy medical degree to know that.”

Despite the cheap shot, Dr. Sunshine's face betrayed no emotion. It never did. “Remember how we talked about how only you can define who you are?”

“Yeah, so?”

“You've had a traumatic experience, of course, it's going to affect you. But it doesn't have to be who you are,” Dr. Sunshine said, looking directly at Scootaloo as she said it.

“But it is who I am,” Scootaloo insisted.

“Why?”

The one-word response caused Scootaloo to clench her hooves and dig them into her chair. “What do you mean why? It's just who I am,” she said, the frustration at having to explain this incredibly obvious fact clearly evident in her tone.

Dr. Sunshine moved forward with her line of questioning. “Why do you have to be ‘Scootaloo the orphan?’ Why not ‘Scootaloo the dancer’, or just plain Scootaloo?”

Scootaloo opened her mouth, intent on protesting but no sound came out.

“I think that’s something you should think about.” A quick glance at the clock told Dr. Sunshine that their session was nearing its end. “That’s enough for today. How bout we build something?”

Scootaloo nodded, letting out a deep breath and unclenching her hooves, relieved that she didn’t need to talk about herself anymore for now. And though the pair did end up constructing a fairly respectable skate park, Dr. Sunshine could easily tell that her patient's mind was ruminating over her last question.

Dr. Sunshine’s question gnawed at Scootaloo all throughout the next day. Even though her dance recital was tonight, the word “Why” remained at the forefront of her consciousness. It wasn’t until she was in costume, backstage that the fear and excitement of having to perform in front of an audience allowed her to think about something else.

Scootaloo peeked out from behind the curtain, not daring to reveal more than the tip of her snout. She quickly scanned the room, recognizing the parents of her classmates amongst the audience members. In the third row, near the center of the room, she saw Rarity and Sweetie Belle and next to them - Apple Bloom and Applejack. Even further to the left she saw Rainbow Dash. Scootaloo gasped and quickly retreated back to the safety of the dressing area.

Rainbow Dash still stirred conflicting emotions from her. She was happy she was here, nervous about impressing her idol, and angry that Rainbow might think that merely showing up for a dance recital was enough to heal her wounds.

The call of “Places everypony!” rang out and Scootaloo scrambled to get into position. She was just a background dancer for the opening number, and she wasn't in the second at all, her solo took place in the third.

The first two pieces ended quicker than Scootaloo thought they would and then it was her big moment. Her number opened with five of her classmates wearing long evening gowns and dancing a listless waltz. Scootaloo stood backstage wearing a backward baseball cap and oversized jeans and a t-shirt. The tedious music cut out just as Scootaloo jumped into the middle of the stage, with a bounding leap. Playing their part the other ponies pretended to be shocked and then quickly tore away their outer layers revealing similar outfits. According to the plan, she was supposed to nod, giving the signal for the music to start again and lead the other ponies in a more animated contemporary dance number.

The stage felt hard beneath her hooves and the air all of the sudden grew stale, there was no music and everypony was staring at her. She took a step forward but stumbled, she quickly caught her balance but the damage was already done. A faint murmur spread throughout the crowd.

It was the hardest thing Scootaloo could remember doing, she pushed down all the doubt and fear until all that remained was the joy she felt at being good at dancing. It didn’t matter that she was terrified and embarrassed, They don't know that. She did an impromptu spin complete with a small kick of her back hoof. She gave the nod Toe Tapper was waiting for, then she danced. She danced with an enthusiasm that couldn't help but be infectious. The steps came easily, embedded into her muscle memory via hours of practice. It was the smile and sparkle Scootaloo worked hard at maintaining that taxed her efforts. The last drum beat sounded and Scootaloo finally gave herself permission to drop her guard. The audience burst into a thunderous applause and the smile Scootaloo gave as she took her bow was nothing but genuine.

“You were soo awesome squirt!” Rainbow Dash all but squealed as she rushed forward to greet Scootaloo, the rest of the group following close behind.

Scootaloo bristled instinctively, her mixed feelings rearing, swirling around in her head. “No, I wasn’t. Look, thanks for coming and everything, but I should really get out of my costume.”

The five ponies exchanged puzzled looks as the tried to figure out why Scootaloo wasn't the same filly they just watched on stage. “Can I talk to the squirt alone for a sec?” Rainbow asked, breaking the tension for a brief moment.

The crusaders and their sisters left, affording Rainbow and Scootaloo some privacy in a corner of the room. “Okay, what’s the deal, kid?”

“Nothing. I just need to get out of my costume.”

“See that’s what I’m talking about, for the past few weeks you’ve been blowing me off.” Rainbow paused and bit her lip, in many ways she and Scootaloo shared a need for external validation. “Is it something I’m doing?” Do you not want me to be your sister?

“No! I just…” Something Dr. Sunshine had told her echoed in her head. Ponies aren’t mind-readers, you can’t expect them to know how you are feeling if you don’t tell them. “It still hurts,” she finally admitted, both to herself and Rainbow Dash.

“What does?”

Scootaloo found her voice growing louder. Luckily the din of their surroundings muffled her words.“You didn’t want to adopt me, you never did!”

“That’s what this is about?”

“No...yes..I...” Scootaloo stuttered.

“I don't know what you want from me kid. I thought we had an understanding.” Neither pony said anything, Scootaloo unsure how to respond, and Rainbow Dash unwilling to engage in another round of self-flagellation. “I guess come find me when you're not mad at me anymore.”

“How did your dance recital go?” Dr. Sunshine asked.

“It went okay, I guess. I kinda messed up a bit at the beginning.”

“What happened?”

“I stumbled a bit, but I finished my solo okay. I just wish that I didn’t screw up the opening.”

“I see. Is that why it only went okay?”

Scootaloo could have lied. She almost wanted to, but Dr. Sunshine had repeatedly impressed on her the idea that lying would only be hurting herself. “After the show, I kinda yelled at Rainbow Dash.”

Dr. Sunshine raised an eyebrow. She had heard a lot about Rainbow Dash from her patient, and even though she was aware that Scootaloo was still processing her feelings, it came as more than a little of a surprise that she would yell at her idol. “What did you say?”

“I told her it hurt that she didn’t want to adopt me.”

“Why did you tell her that now?”

“Why?” was Dr. Sunshine's favorite question and Scootaloo had quickly learned that “I don’t know,” was not an acceptable answer.

A few weeks ago the idea of Scootaloo being open with her feelings would have been absurd. It was a testament to their progress that Scootaloo could answer the question while limiting her reaction to a slight crack of her voice. “Because I'm still mad at her. I always thought she was going to adopt me and she never even gave me a chance.”

Dr. Sunshine consulted her ever-present pad of notes, adding Scootaloo’s actions to her base of knowledge. “I see. Do you still want Rainbow to adopt you? You seem to be settling in with Rarity unless I'm mistaken.”

Scootaloo fiddled with the armrest of her chair. “Yeah, I mean no, I mean, I know Rainbow isn't going to adopt me and living with Rarity isn't so bad. It's just whenever I see her all I can think about is how she didn’t want to even try.”

“That sounds like it would be difficult to deal with.”

“You’re not going to tell me I’m being unfair?”

“It’s not about being fair. This is about your feelings. You feel mad at her and that’s a perfectly healthy response.”

“But I don’t want to be mad at her. I know she wasn’t trying to hurt me.”

“We often can’t control our feelings, Scootaloo. What we can control is how we react to them. If she were here, is there something she could say or do that would make you not mad at her?”

Scootaloo considered the question carefully, looking up at the tiled ceiling. “I guess maybe she could explain why she didn’t even give me a chance?” She wasn’t sure if there even was an explanation that would satisfy her, but it seemed like a place to start, at least.

“Let me ask you this: Do you think if she did adopt you and it didn’t work out, that you wouldn’t be mad at her?”

Scootaloo considered her feelings toward her other foster parents. She was surprised by the intensity of her reaction. She hadn’t really thought about any of them in a while, but as she ruminated, she found herself hit by a deluge of guilt. Her previous foster parents weren’t bad ponies, she knew that, and yet every time she left it was always with angry words. It occurred to her that she couldn’t remember saying “Thank you” to any of them.

The doctor must have noticed that her question touched a nerve because she didn’t press Scootaloo for an answer. “It sounds like you’re not really mad at her. It sounds like maybe you’re a little mad at yourself,” she said softly. Scootaloo didn’t say anything. “I think Rainbow reminds you of the other ponies who didn’t want to adopt you and maybe that’s why you’re having trouble being around her.”

“It wasn’t their fault,” Scootaloo said, studying her hooves intently .

Years of experience had taught Dr. Sunshine what a breakthrough looked like. Though it was different for everypony, she prized herself on being able to read her patients. “It wasn’t yours either,” she replied, hoping to gently cajole Scootaloo into exploring more.

Scootaloo’s head jerked sharply upwards and she practically shouted her next words. “It had to be somepony’s fault!”

“No, it didn’t, Scootaloo. Sometimes nopony does anything wrong and bad things still happen.”

“It still hurts,” Scootaloo said, echoing her sentiment to Rainbow.

“That’s okay,” Dr. Sunshine said as unobtrusively as possible.

And then Scootaloo had the epiphany that a few weeks ago would have never occurred to her. It was only after accepting that Rarity did care about her, and Sweetie Belle did want her to join the family and that Dr. Sunshine was trying to help her that Scootaloo was able to reach a breakthrough. “What happened was sad, but I don’t have to be sad about it.”

Reconciliation

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Despite her breakthrough, Scootaloo realized very quickly that there was a very large gulf between knowing you didn’t have to be sad, and actually not being sad. For so long Scootaloo carried around her sadness as a perverse shield, that the thought of letting it go was oddly frightening. She took the long way back, using the occasion to think about her life in Ponyville, her friends, and her time with Rarity.

She opened the back door of the Carousel Boutique and stepped inside. Taking a moment to look around the now familiar kitchen, Scootaloo felt an odd sensation. Spurred by an unknown motivation she opened the silverware drawer to find her set left right where she left it. She looked over at the drying rack next to the sink where the plate she had breakfast on was now clean and ready for another meal. Without needed to go upstairs she knew that her scooter was in the corner and that her bed was neatly made, complete with fluffed pillows and maybe a mint.

The familiar whir of a sewing machine told her
Rarity wasn’t busy with a customer. She peeked through the door and took a moment to study the pony who was one step away from becoming her actual family. Rarity was wearing her red cat eye glasses as she pushed a shiny piece of green silk through her sewing machine. Her horn was illuminated as a separate silver spool of thread hovered nearby, feeding into the thread guide. Beneath the din of the machine she could almost hear Rarity humming a jaunty tune.

Scootaloo took a few steps forward but Rarity’s work commanded all her attention.
She made it halfway across the room before Rarity noticed her. Rarity glanced up from her half finished dress to see Scootaloo standing in the middle of the room, staring at her with an expression that could only be described as quizzical.

“Are you okay, dear?” Rarity asked, seeing Scootaloo’s expression.

Scootaloo stumbled forward, closing the rest of the distance and grabbed onto Rarity’s forelegs in an awkward hug. Rarity repeated her question, her concern now growing. “Did something happen?”

Scootaloo shook her head and Rarity could feel a soft cheek rubbing against her foreleg. She didn't elaborate because what could she possibly say that would mean anything? She kept hugging until she realized it didn’t matter how long she stayed there. Rarity was perfectly content to reciprocate the gesture. And at that realization she felt lighter. It wasn't that she instantly let go of her past, it was still there, weighing on her subconscious, but for the first time she felt capable of carrying it.

Scootaloo let go and looked up to see Rarity patiently smiling down at her. Rather than pry any further or attempt to unpack Scootaloo’s spontaneous outpouring of affection, Rarity turned her attention to more immediate concerns. “Perhaps we should have barley soup for dinner?”

“I’d like that, and could we maybe go visit Rainbow Dash tomorrow?” Scootaloo said softly.

The next morning, Scootaloo found herself at Rainbow’s front door as Rarity stood a respectful distance behind her, thanks to a cloudwalking spell learned from Twilight She rang the bell and waited what seemed like an hour for Rainbow to answer the door.

Not used to unannounced visitors, Rainbow wore the faintest hint of a scowl as she flung open the door, but it quickly dissipated when she saw who was standing there.

“Hi,” Scootaloo said softly.

Rainbow Dash glanced at Rarity who gave her friend a reassuring nod. “Hi, Scoots.”

“I never said thank you for coming to my dance recital.”

“Well maybe I kinda sorta flew out of there before you got the chance to.” There was a tension filled break before Rainbow spoke again. “That's what you came to say?”

And then came the moment Scootaloo had been playing over and over again in her mind since yesterday Scootaloo shook her head. "I don't think I'm mad at you anymore."

Rainbow Dash burst into a smile, one which faded when she noticed Scootaloo's downcast expression. "But?"

"But I guess it still hurts. I mean I know it's not your fault, but... "

"Scootaloo, I..."

"No, I get it. Things are..." Scootaloo glanced backwards at Rarity for a second. "...good. Better, at least. I know it's not fair, but I just always thought you'd adopt me. I think that maybe I never really considered you didn't want to.”

"It wasn't about that,” Rainbow protested weakly.

”But it kinda was, wasn't it? I've gotta think that, if we had the same parents, you'd want me with you before you'd let me move all the way to Baltimare."

Rainbow looked at the ground, her eyes decidedly misty with tears. "I... I don't know. I honestly don't know, Scootaloo. I didn't want you to leave. You know that, right?"

"I know, and I am thankful you were there, at the recital. I want you to be at things. With me. Dr. Sunshine says that it's good to take some time to process things. I think that this is one of those things.”

Rainbow didn’t know who Dr. Sunshine was, and that knowledge just added to the gulf between what she thought she knew about Scootaloo and what she actually did know. “Okay, I get that. So what do you want me to do?”

A few months ago, the answer would have been “adopt me”, and a few weeks ago Scootaloo wouldn’t have been able to answer the question. “I want you to be my sister, if you still want to, that is.”

“You bet I do, Squirt. Maybe if it’s okay with Rarity, we could go flying. I’m not doing anything today.”

Scootaloo’s smile returned, “I’d like that. Can I go Rarity?”

“Of course, dear, just be home before dinner. And you Rainbow Dash,” she said pointedly, “promise to be careful.”

Dash grinned at Rarity. “Where’s the fun in that?”she said, her grin widening. I’ll catch her if she falls, you know that,” she quickly added.

A bit of red touched Rarity’s cheeks, “Yes, quite.”

“Thanks, Rarity,” Scootaloo said, though she turned her gaze up to Dash.

“Yeah,” Rainbow said, her smug grin falling into a genuine smile. “Really, Rarity, thanks.”

Rarity dismissed it with an airy wave of her hoof. “You two enjoy yourselves. I’m certain you have plenty of catching up to do.”

A few weeks later, Scootaloo found herself sitting in class when Cheerilee made an announcement.

“Okay class. As you all know Family Appreciation day is coming up. For this year’s celebration, I want you all to write a report about a family member that you’re going to read out loud at a big celebration in the Ponyville Amphitheater.”

The class buzzed with excitement. Some students nervous about speaking in front of so many ponies, others wondering who they should pick as their subject.

“Mrs. Cheerilee?” Diamond asked with a smile and a raised hoof as the class quieted down. “Can our report be about anypony? Or does it have to be somepony who’s actually related to us, like by birth?”

“Your report has to be about a family member Diamond. You don’t have to be related by birth to be family.”

Diamond nodded. “Okay, I was just wondering because it seems like if somepony isn’t related to you, they really can’t be family,” Diamond said with a crocodile smile and the faintest hint of a glance toward Scootaloo.

“Families come in all shapes and sizes, Diamond. Please see me after class,” Cheerilee said. Of course the whole class knew the phrase “see me after class” was thinly veiled code for “you’re getting punished”.

“But Mrs. Cheerilee, I was only trying to clarify what you meant,” Diamond protested with a pout.

“No you weren’t, Diamond. See me after class,” Cheerilee said with authority borne of years of teaching. One simply did not argue with Cheerilee when she adopted that tone. Her message delivered, Cheerilee again smiled and continued her lesson plan on some of Equestria's early Family Appreciation Day traditions.

But even though Diamond was getting punished for her obvious dig, Scootaloo found it hard to concentrate. While the rest of the class quickly hurried out for lunch and recess Scootaloo lingered behind.

“Mrs. Cheerilee?”

“Yes, Scootaloo?”

“Do I have to do a report for family appreciation day?”

From a different student Cheerilee might have assumed that the question was meant as an excuse to get out of homework, but from Scootaloo the question was not an unreasonable one. Cheerilee had a working knowledge of Scootaloo’s home life. And though she wasn’t privy to all the details, she knew enough to realize that this wasn’t a student simply trying to get out of an assignment.

Scootaloo had been excused from other family holidays, newborn celebration day among them, but this report wasn’t an onerous one. It didn’t require a deep bond or intimate knowledge of a family member. Cheerilee mainly wanted to use the holiday as a chance for her students to practice their public speaking skills.

“Why don’t you want to?” she asked, hoping to understand her student a little better.

Scootaloo struggled with her answer, it was more complicated than she was willing to admit to herself. “I haven’t been living with Rarity very long and I don’t want to bother her more than I already have.”

“All you have to do is talk about her; what she likes, her favorite foods, that sort of thing. That isn’t a big deal is it?”

“No, it’s not.” Scootaloo was forced to concede. The real reason Scootaloo didn’t want to do the report was that it felt like a public declaration that she had a family, and despite everything, she still wasn’t entirely sure that she had really, truly, found one. It was one thing to have a place to stay, but quite another altogether to announce to the world that said place was home. And what if Rarity didn't like her report? And what if Sweetie wanted to write hers about Rairity too?

Cheerilee considered her options. She wasn't about to excuse Scootaloo from the assignment, but she also didn't want any assignment she gave to make any of her students uncomfortable. “You have to do a report, Scootaloo. But if you’d like you can give yours about Princess Celestia or Princess Luna. There are lots of books in the library about both of them that you could use to help you. Does that sound fair?”

Scootaloo breathed out a sigh of relief and nodded. Public speaking didn't really bother her, publicly declaring she had a family did.

The End

View Online

One look at the massive tome detailing the history of the two sisters was all Scootaloo needed to decide that asking Rarity a few simple questions was the more preferable option for completing her assignment. It had been two weeks since Cheerilee had given out the assignment and, at first, Scootaloo’s procrastination was just the garden variety scootering-is-more-fun-than-homework kind. But one way or the other, family appreciation day was approaching and Scootaloo was expected to say something about somepony.

“Hey Rarity,” Scootaloo asked, setting her notebook on the kitchen counter as Rarity peeled carrots for dinner.

“Yes, dear?”

“Can I ask you some questions?” Before Rarity could respond, Scootaloo spoke again. “It's for school,” she quickly clarified, less Rarity thought that this was anything else.

“Of course dear, ask away,” Rarity called over her shoulder.

Scootaloo looked down at her list of prepared inquiries she planned to use to flesh out her report. “What's your favorite color?”

Rarity stopped peeling and brought a hoof to her chin. “Well that is a complicated question. My favorite color depends entirely on the context.” Rarity was about launch into an explanation of lighting and complimentary colors when she noticed Scootaloo roll her eyes. “Aubergine, my favorite color is aubergine.”

Rarity may have said “my favorite color is table” for all Scootaloo understood. Orange was a color, so were blue and red. Some colors had more descriptive names like pearl or aquamarine, but Scootaloo didn't know what an aubergine was, much less what spectrum of light it reflected. “What’s that?”

Rarity levitated a spool of ribbon from a nearby spool in the parlor room. “This is aubergine. I find that it highlights most other colors as well as being bold enough to stand on its own without being garish.”

Scootaloo squinted at the ribbon in front of her. Try as she might to be open to the possibility that there was something Rarity saw that she didn't, she couldn't make herself see anything other than the obvious. “Can't I just say purple?”

Rarity recoiled in shock if not indignation. “Most certainly not. How would you feel if I called your scooter a tricycle?”

“That's silly, my scooter isn’t a tricycle,” Scootaloo shot back.

“And aubergine isn’t purple,” Rarity responded with a barely discernable hmph tacked on for emphasis.

Rarity’s favorite color is aubergine, Scootaloo wrote in her notebook. “What's your favorite food?”

“Well again,” Rarity stopped herself before Scootaloo could change her mind about reading the massive tome about the two princesses. “Just say ice cream. Chocolate if you must be specific.”

There were a few more questions encompassing other things Rarity liked, (Fluttershy, singing and roses being among them) and then Scootaloo left confident enough to write her report.

But it wasn't until after dinner Scootaloo pulled out her chair and sat at her desk.

My Family

A week later Scootaloo sat in her assigned seat with two reports. The first one she had written quickly, it was pretty boilerplate. Rarity likes fashion and ice cream. One neat thing about her is that she is an Element of Harmony. We like to make barley soup together etc etc. Scootaloo knew she could read that and get a passing grade. She might get a note about trying a little harder next time, but she would pass and everypony would forget her report as soon as the next presenter started.

Her second report was different. It didn’t mention barley soup or the Element of Generosity. She knew Cheerilee would love it, but she wasn’t entirely sure how the audience would react and that’s who it was meant for.

There were a lot of fillies and colts in the audience, most of whom she knew, some of whom went to other schools or were homeschooled. What if one of them was like her, desperately searching for some kind of family? And what about all the adults watching? Maybe they were considering adopting; surely they should hear how much it might mean to a child to finally find a home. Didn’t she have some sort of responsibility to share her experience so others could learn from it? Her thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice. “Next up we have Scootaloo. Let’s all give her a round of applause.”

Hesitating for one last second, she grabbed the second one between her teeth and walked up to the lectern.

The paper shook slightly as she placed it down on the slanted surface.

My Family

My Family is Rarity and Sweetie Belle.

Rarity is my mom. I don’t know who my birth mom is, but Rarity cooks me dinner every night and tucks me in when I ask her to. She walks me home from my dance lessons and she makes sure that I do my homework. She likes chocolate ice cream. Sometimes ponies ask me who my “real mom” is and if I ever wonder what’s she’s like. I don’t like those questions. Rarity takes care of me, that makes her my real mom.

Sweetie Belle is my sister. We’re not really related either. I guess we could be since I don’t know who my birth parents are; but I’m pretty sure they’re not Sweetie’s parents. Sweetie is Rarity’s birth sister if that counts for anything. Anyway even though she’s not my birth sister she is always there for me when I need her, and we do lots of fun stuff together. That makes her my sister even if we do have different parents.

The words on the page began to blur and Scootaloo wiped her eyes.

I know my family isn’t like a lot of other families and that we haven’t been a family for very long, but for a long time I didn’t have any family. I tried to convince myself that I was just fine without one, but I wasn’t. I was sad all the time because I thought no one loved me. But then I found this one. Our life isn’t perfect; sometimes we fight and yell at each other. But I’m pretty sure that even when we do fight they love me, and I…I don’t know what I would do without them.

Because that’s what family is, ponies who love you no matter what.

So on this Family Appreciation Day I just want to say that I’m glad I finally have a family to appreciate.

Scootaloo ended her report and dared to look up from the lectern. As soon as she saw the sea of ponies staring back at her she realized she had made a horrible mistake and now was standing in front of a room full of ponies who knew how weak she was. The room began to shrink and her heart started pounding. One thought pushed any others down, she had to leave, immediately. Not even bothering to pick up her report she sprinted as fast as she could toward the stage wings, intent on slipping out the back door and hurrying down the road all the way to the Everfree Forest.

The audience burst into thunderous applause but Scootaloo could barely hear it over the thumping in her chest.

Before she could reach the exit she heard a familiar voice.

“Scootaloo.”

Scootaloo turned to see Rarity waiting by the side entrance which didn't make sense seeing as how Rarity had been in the audience. Scootaloo sprinted towards the exit the very instant her speech had ended which meant the only way Rarity could be backstage now is if she left before the speech ended. Which she would only do if she knew Scootaloo well enough to predict her overwhelming need to flee.

It was pure instinct that drove Scootaloo into the waiting forelegs of the pony she just spoke about. Instinct that told her within that embrace she was safe and loved and nothing else mattered.

The roar subsided and a voice said something about taking a brief recess, but Scootaloo wasn’t sure, she was too busy clinging to Rarity for dear life. Out in the audience even Diamond Tiara clapped, though perhaps not as enthusiastically as her classmates.

“I'm sure that wasn't easy for you,” Rarity said, looking down. Scootaloo shook her head. “I'm very proud of you, dear,” and Scootaloo felt a reassuring squeeze. “You’re pretty sure I love you?” The question was asked with a raised eyebrow and the beginnings of a smile.

“Yeah, ” Scootaloo replied softly.

“Well I’m pretty sure you love me too,” Rarity said with the beginning of a sly grin.

“Thanks, Mom,” Scootaloo whispered.

“You're most welcome, Pumpkin,” Rarity whispered back.

“I think I'm still going to call you ‘Rarity,’” Scootaloo said louder.

“I shall probably still call you ‘Scootaloo.’”

“I'm okay with that.”

“Splendid.” Out of the corner of her eye Rarity saw a white and yellow blur racing toward them. “I do believe we’re about to have company.”

In the span of half a second Scootaloo found herself as the filling in a crusaders hug sandwich, Sweetie on her left and Apple Bloom on her right. She took a moment to awkwardly attempt to acknowledge the gesture, but then without warning Apple Bloom slugged her in the shoulder.
“Hey, what was that for?” Scootaloo said, indigently rubbing her foreleg.

“Cause you said you didn't think anyone loved ya. We love ya and you know it.”

“You know what I meant.”

Both ponies turned to Sweetie Belle, looking to her to cast the deciding vote. “Sorry, Apple Bloom, I’ve got to side with my niece on this one”

“I'm not calling you Auntie Sweetie Belle!” Scootaloo shouted, launching herself full throttle at Sweetie. From there the discussion devolved into a general scrum as Rarity watched with a smile.

Thanks to Autumn's wholehearted recommendation, as well as calling in a few favors, the last few months of Rarity’s fostering were waived in favor of granting immediate full custody. All that was left was the signing of the adoption papers.

Theoretically Rarity, Scootaloo and Autumn could have just signed the papers at the Foal Services office, or the Boutique; but this was a celebratory event and happy occasions in Ponyville were pretty much legally mandated to be accompanied by Pinkie Pie sanctioned and planned parties.

The Boutique was closed for the afternoon and decorated with as many balloons as could comfortably fill the space. A big banner hung above the doorway reading congratulations in gold letters. A buffet table with fruit and cake, decorated with flowers donated by Lily and Treble, housed refreshments.

After the guest had arrived, with everyone watching, Rarity magically grabbed a pen and signed her name with a flourish, holding the paper aloft and presenting it to the world. The assembled crowd burst into applause.

Music began to play and the crowd dispersed, some moving towards the refreshments, others hoping to get a chance to offer well wishes in person.

Papers stowed in his saddlebag, Autumn began slowly moving toward the door, taking one last moment to take in the scene. He had heard his colleges describe these moments as bittersweet, but he never really understood that. For him there was nothing melancholy about closing a file, it was the best part of his job, in some ways the only redeeming part. It signaled that he had succeeded in making a child’s life better, what was bittersweet about that? He was about to open the door and quietly slip away when he felt a tug on his tail.

“You’re leaving?” Scootaloo asked, looking up with wide eyes.

Autumn nodded, accompanying the gesture with a shrug. “I have the signed papers, everything’s one hundred percent offical now. There’s nothing left for me to do.”

“I guess this means I’m not going to see you anymore.”

There was a idiom around the office at Foal Services, sort of a dark humour that said once you closed a file you never wanted to see that child again. The unspoken truth being if you did it meant something had gone horribly wrong. Autumn didn’t share the joke with Scootaloo, but it did quickly run through his head. The harsh truth was that he didn’t want to see Scootaloo again, at least not in any official capacity. Their journey had been longer than most and it appeared to have a happy ending. Used to trauma though he was he didn’t dare imagine how hard it would be, for both of them, if he had to reopen Scootaloo’s file. But a glance at Rarity, who could only be described as beaming as she talked to her friends, reassured him. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said smiling to push down the fear. “My office is going to be right where you left it, and if you have another dance recital, I’ll be right there clapping for you.” Scootaloo didn’t look convinced, her eyebrows narrowing. He sighed, “Okay you’re right, things will be different from now on. My job was always to find you a family, and I know it wasn’t as easy as you would have liked but we did it, and it looks to me like it’s a pretty great one.”

Scootaloo took a long look at the assembled guest, her gaze lingering on Rarity and Sweetie Belle.

“Yeah, they are pretty great.” She looked up at her case officer slash sort of friend. “I never said thank you,” she said with a regretful grimace.

“You never have to, I was just doing my job.”

Scootaloo shook her head. “No, I do. Family is ponies who care about you, I know that now. And I think maybe if you didn’t care about me, I wouldn’t have found such a great one, so maybe, in a way you were kind of my family.”

Autumn brushed the comment away with a flick of his hoof before it could take root. “Nah, you’re pretty special, I never thought, even for one moment, that I wouldn’t be able to find you a great home.” It was a lie, but it was the kind of lie ponies told because the truth was unnecessary.

“Thank you.”

Now it was Autumns turn to shake his head. “Okay, that’s enough of that. Why don’t you run along and enjoy your party?"

And Scootaloo did.

Author's Notes:

If you'll permit me some indulgence: I think everyone gets a chance to make one “capital C” contribution to the fandom. It doesn't have to be “good”, Fall of Equestria and Cupcakes are both Contributions the fandom would be better without.

And while a few writers are skilled and lucky enough to make multiple Contributions, I feel as though this is mine. I have written other stories and they don't come close to the reception this got (I've seen it on people's top fics list, which always makes me happy). I'm also aware it's hard to catch lightning in a bottle twice. So this is most likely my magnum opus. I'm okay with that, I hope you enjoyed reading it.

Let me see if I can't preemptively answer some questions.

Are you going to write a sequel?

No, where would that go? (Though I haven't ruled out a brief epilogue one shot of sorts). If you have an idea for a sequel let's talk.

What's next?

Not sure. I have one story on hiatus. I need to rewrite what I have, but I'd like to see it finished. So that maybe? There's also a few stories that I've started that might see the light of day.

You write a lot of Scootadopts, are you going to write another?

Maybe. Both Twilight and Applejack present some interesting possibilities, but the challenge I have is how to avoid covering the same ground I've covered in my other stories. (I don't think there is anything interesting about a Fluttershy or Pinkie Scootadopt, but again let's talk), if you have any thoughts about that let's chat, the world always needs more Scootalove.

Can I write a sequel to this?

I’d prefer you didn't, but I'm always willing to listen to a pitch.

Three Gems and a Scooter

by RaylanKrios

Fair Bargain

Fickle Hearts

What's Your Interest in Her?

Depends on What?

Which is it?

Look out the Window

Why not?

Respecting Decisions

Bringing up Fillies

Which Hurts Worse?

What Did You Do?

Where Do I Belong?

Ice Cream

Trust Me

Saviors Complex

Family

Hay Fries

Broken

Kintsugi

Epiphany

A Start

Why would you do that?

Families Don't Fight

Common Knowledge

Feather Drift

Dance Recital

Reconciliation

The End