"Deleted Scenes" for Jowijo's Someone Still Loves You
While editing Someone Still Loves You for Jowijo, I've suggested a couple different alternate scenes that didn't make it into the final product. I'm kind-of attached to these scenes, so I've decided to post 'em here.
Context is kinda necessary for understanding these, so go and read the original, if you haven't already. Also, make sure to show Jowijo some love in the comments!
Next chapter posts after SSLY completes.
If you liked these, please consider checking out my other stories:
My Sister Fluttershy: Fluttershy's older sister tells of Fluttershy's childhood and disappearance. Whiskey Tango Foxtrot: Single-mother Pinkie Pie tries to raise her three triplets on her own. For the Good of Equestria: Princess Celestia tells of her battles with Discord and King Sombra.
As Twilight stared at Rainbow, sitting there on the cold linoleum, Rainbow’s eyes began to well up with tears again. She held out one of her shredded, bandaged wings, and her mouth drifted towards it.
“Stop it,” barked Twilight.
But she didn’t--she took two more of her primary feathers in her teeth and pulled, a little shudder shaking her entire body, the tips of the feathers coming away bloody.
“Rainbow Dash,” Twilight said, taking Rainbow’s face in her hooves, “You need to stop. You’re hurting yourself, and—”
Twilight paused, then slowly, sat back. Rainbow stared at her, her eyes glassy and unseeing. Rainbow was in there, somewhere--but her fear and her anger and her Celestia-knows-what-else was in the driver’s seat. Rainbow reached for her wing again—
“I was told that somepony needed my help,” said a voice.
Five heads turned--and there, in the doorway, stood Princess Cadance.
Most of them gave quick, nodding bows, but Twilight stood and hugged her. “Oh, Cadance,” she cried, “Oh, thank you—”
Cadance shook her off. “Thank me later,” she said gently. “There’s work to be done.” Cadance stepped forward, towards Rainbow, who had more bloody feathers in her teeth. Cadance stooped down and looked her in the eyes. “Rainbow Dash,” she said, “do you know who I am?”
Rainbow stared at her--and, slowly, her mouth fell open, the feathers fluttering to the ground. “...I do,” she rasped.
“Do you remember my name?” Cadance asked.
Another moment of silence, and Rainbow’s eyes cleared, just the slightest bit. “You’re… you’re Princess Cadance,” Rainbow said. “Alicorn of love.”
Cadance nodded. “That’s right. Now, I think I can help you.” She leaned down a little closer. “Do you want my help?”
Rainbow stared back at her--and tears began to run down her cheeks again. “Y-yes,” she blubbered. “I… I don’t want to feel this way--not ever again—”
Cadance sighed. “That is our lot as ponies,” she said. “Sometimes, we need to walk the darkness before we can see the light.” She closed her eyes and lit her horn in a warm, pink glow. “Hold still, please,” she said, and leaned forward, gently touching Rainbow on the forehead with her horn.
Rainbow froze, stock still. For a moment, neither of them spoke.
“Good heavens, Rainbow Dash,” Cadance breathed. “You’re all knotted up inside…”
Applejack rolled her eyes. “Didn’t need magic to figure that out—”
Twilight punched her in the shoulder. “Quiet,” she hissed.
Cadance, heedless of the distraction, had not spoken. Her horn glowed a little brighter. “You’ve got some pride in there,” she murmured to herself. “Quite a bit, actually… but, push that aside, and…” the muscles in her face twitched. “Anger. A lot of anger. And--and guilt. Guilt over…” she let out a long, slow breath. “Guilt over getting pregnant… guilt over leaving home so soon… guilt over what you did to Gilda, an old friend you abandoned… and—” Cadance gasped, then swayed on her hooves. “Harmony’s bones…”
“Princess?” yelped Rarity.
For a long time, Cadance was silent. “...love,” she said finally, her voice barely a whisper. “Love, for… for your parents… for yourself… for your foal…” She opened her eyes. “You have more love in you than half the ponies I know,” she said, quietly. “But you haven’t let yourself feel it in a long, long time.”
Slowly, the light from her horn dimmed. Rainbow opened her eyes, and stared up at Cadance with a longing, hungry look.
“I can fix this,” Cadance said to her. “But, are you sure you want me to?”
Rainbow returned her gaze--and fresh tears began to roll down her cheeks again. “Yes,” she sobbed. “Yes, anything.”
Cadance sighed. “Everypony,” she said, “This is going to be hard for me. I need everyone to think about someone you love--and think hard.”
Twilight closed her eyes. That was easy--she thought of her brother Shining Armor, and of all the times he’d taken care of her as a foal…
Pinkie grinned. She thought of the Cake’s twins--little boogers though they were, they were practically family to her...
Fluttershy hesitated, then thought of Zeph. He was irritating, sure, and all his little schemes drove her up the wall--but he was family, and she still loved him…
Rarity took a deep breath. The first pony to come to mind was Sweetie Belle… oh, sure, she was hard on her sometimes, but their relationship meant more than she could know…
Applejack smiled a little. Her family, of course--the whole stinkin’ bunch. Her life wouldn’t be the same without ‘em--heck, she might not even have a life…
For a moment, all was still. Then Cadance looked up at Rainbow again. “You too,” she said.
Rainbow sucked in a breath. “Me?” she repeated.
Cadance nodded. “You especially,” she said gently.
Rainbow swallowed, and thought hard. Her parents? Nah, hadn’t seen them in years. Soarin’? Well, if she was honest, not really--what they had was something, but it wasn’t love. Her friends? Closer, perhaps... But not quite there…
And then she thought of Scootaloo. Adorable, dorky Scootaloo, who meant more to her than she wanted to admit--and, with everyone's help, might mean more still…
Cadance let out a little gasp. She was quiet for a moment, then grinned at Rainbow. “Excellent choice,” she said.
And then, her horn grew brighter.
Rainbow felt it in her mind--a blinding wave of pink light. It slammed against the walls in her brain, pressing, straining, burning against them. Reflexively, Rainbow leapt to the defense--she’d spent years building this fortress!--but the light only grew brighter. Rainbow screamed, both in her head and out, as the cracks began to show—
--and, with a sound like shattering glass, her walls broke and fell away.
Rainbow collapsed to the floor. Her friends gasped and stepped forward, but Cadance, chest heaving, shook her head. “Let her be,” she said.
Slowly, Rainbow’s eyes fluttered open. She climbed, shakily, to her hooves, then looked up at Cadance. Her gaze was clear and sharp, and full of a sort of cautious gratitude.
“How do you feel?” Cadance asked.
Slowly, Rainbow nodded. “I feel…” she swallowed. “...good.”
Cadance nodded. “You should probably still get help,” she said. “That should be enough to help you for now, but it’s really just a band-aid.”
Rainbow shook her head. “Some band-aid,” she breathed.
“Some hole,” Cadance corrected gently.
“Yeah, well…” Rainbow grinned weakly and looked away.
Cadance swallowed. “So,” she said, “what are you going to do now?”
Rainbow squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lip. For a long time, she did not speak. Then, slowly, she turned to face Cadance, straightened up to her full height, and looked her in the eye.
“I made some promises,” she said. “Some in words… and some not.” She swallowed. “It’s time I started keeping them.”
Cadance smiled, then nodded. “I think that would be best,” she said. She turned to face the other ponies, standing still, watching the two of them. “I know she’s made some mistakes,” she said, “but I, at least, think that Rainbow deserves another shot.”
Slowly, Twilight nodded--followed, one by one, by the others.
Cadance smiled, then leaned in and gave Rainbow a hug. “Good luck,” she said. “You have your work cut out for you.”
Rainbow sighed, then returned the hug. “Thanks, Princess,” she said.
Candance nodded. “Anytime. Just don’t make me do this again.”
Rainbow chuckled a little. “No promises,” she said. She pulled away from Cadance’s grasp, then took a deep breath.
“I need to get going,” she said to the group. “There are two lives that need to be put back together, and it’s high time I started trying.”
Alternate "Denial": Rumble and Button in the Hospital
Rumble gritted his teeth as Nurse Redheart daubed at a cut over his eyebrow with a cotton ball full of something strong and antiseptic. It burned as it sank into his cut--something he almost found himself thankful for. Anything to feel something other than the deep emptiness in the pit of his gut.
Button Mash sat across from Rumble in the small treatment room. A smaller mare, Candy Stripe, was in the process of bandaging his left eye, already swollen shut. His right, however, stared at Rumble, full of impotent fury.
Rumble met his glare, then looked quickly away. He didn’t want to have to think about what he had done.
He heard raised voices and glanced up. Through the small window in the door, he could see Miss Cheerilee and Button’s mom, Mrs. Mash. He couldn’t hear their words--but he had a pretty good idea of what they were saying. And it would only get worse when Thunderlane got here.
Rumble bowed his head a little. Nurse Redheart tutted at him, but said nothing. She turned away, then returned with a small stack of butterfly bandages, which she started to apply to his cut.
[Rumble mopes, as in the published chapter. He needs to protect Scootaloo, because no one else will.]
But that didn’t mean that he liked doing it. He meant what he had said: he loved her, he really did. But he wasn’t a fighter. Not really. And, though he had come off better in their fight--he didn’t like the look that Button was giving him.
Suddenly the door swung open, and in strode Miss Cheerilee and Mrs. Mash. Mrs. Mash shouldered past Candy Stripe, knelt down, and took Button in her arms.
“There, there,” she murmured, “you’re gonna be okay.”
“Geroff me,” Button spat.
Mrs. Mash began to stroke his mane. “Come on,” she said, “Tell Mommy where you’re hurt.” Button thought he saw her turn and shoot a look at Cheerilee. “Are any of your teeth loose?” she asked Button. “Anything broken? Could you still see out of your eye?”
Cheerilee rolled her eyes and sighed. “As I said, Mrs. Mash,” she said, “both Button and Rumble will be disciplined in accordance with Education Department guidelines--”
Mrs. Mash stood. “Both of them?” she said. “Are you serious? Look at him!” she gestured angrily at Button. “Periorbital hematoma, tracheal contusions, third and fourth incisors loose—”
“And Rumble suffers from facial lacerations and a hairline fracture in his long pastern,” Cheerilee interrupted cooly. “Your point?”
“My point? My point,” Mrs. Mash repeated, irritated. She glared at Miss Cheerilee for a long moment before suddenly stamping her hoof. “By Celestia’s shiny white ass,” she hissed, “aren’t you going to do something?”
Rumble looked up at her, startled--as did Button, and, for a fraction of a second, Nurse Redheart. Rumble almost giggled--he didn’t know she even knew how to swear like that.
“We are,” Cheerilee replied, her voice calm, but sharp. “Both Rumble and Button are on three-day at-home suspension, effective immediately.”
“Three-day—” Mrs. Mash sputtered. “He beat up my baby, and you’re giving him a vacation?!”
Nurse Redheart snorted. She stood, then turned to face the two of them. “Contrary to your beliefs,” she said acidly, “this sort of behavior is not unusual.” Mrs. Mash turned to glare at Nurse Redheart, who returned her glare with one of her own. “Two colts fighting over a filly is completely normal, in colts who are…” she glanced Button up and down, then cleared her throat. “...of a certain age,” she finished. She turned back to Rumble, then applied another bandage. “True, they’re both rather young--though not entirely out of normal ranges--but the rules still apply: three days at-home suspension, to give them time to cool off.”
From here, the plan was to have Thunderlane show up. Rumble expects Thunderlane to be furious with him, but he's actually deferential and apologetic. Over the course of the conversation, Thunderlane would reveal that Rumble's been having nightmares, and that he keeps on calling for Scootaloo in his sleep. Understanding dawns across Button's face, and he suddenly speaks up, taking partial credit for starting the fight ("Sorry for calling you those names... I mean, goddamn, you pissed me off, but I woulda taken it the same way," that sorta thing). This would both help heal the rift between them, and calm Mrs. Mash down, though she'd still be mistrustful of Rumble for a while.
It was late spring. The blossoms had begun to fall from the trees, and the barest hint of summer heat was in the air. The mid-morning sun streamed through the windows of the Carousel Boutique. Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle were both at school—but gathered here, in their absence, were Rarity, Fluttershy, Twilight, and Mr. Stable, the representative from DFS. Each of them sat on cushions in a rough semi-circle, facing Rainbow Dash, who sat, calm and collected, on her own cushion.
“Yes, well,” Rarity said into the sudden silence. “I mean, that’s always been the goal…”
“I want to do it Thursday,” Rainbow said.
All of them turned to stare.
“T-thursday?” stammered Rarity.
Rainbow nodded firmly. “Yes. I’ll have finished my community service hours on Wednesday, and that would leave enough time to get her settled in a little before the weekend.”
Rarity glanced helplessly around the circle. “But, surely,” she said, “This… this isn’t something you just do. There’s all the paperwork, and—”
“Already done,” Rainbow said. “Filled out, in triplicate, all the inspections done, all the fees paid. Have been for months now. Right, Mr. Stable?”
Mr. Stable cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses. “Well… yes,” he said carefully.
“And she was accepted?” Twilight asked, incredulous. “With a child negligence conviction? Trying to move a flightless pegasus into a cloudominium?”
“Yes, she was,” Mr. Stable said mildly. “As Miss Dash indicated, she has been faithfully doing her public service—as an assistant coach at the Ponyville Colts & Fillies Club, I should add, which speaks to her abilities with children.” He showed a vague smile. “Additionally, she has taken all the required steps to ensure that her home is safe for a flightless pegasus—she has lowered it to thirty feet off the ground, and installed safety railings and a rope ladder, all in accordance with EDA standards. In the eyes of DFS,” he said, “she is worthy of adopting Scootaloo.”
Twilight glanced at Rainbow. She was sitting up straight, a small, prideful smile on her face.
“Except…” Mr. Stable continued.
Everyone turned to look at him now. If he noticed the attention, he did not react.
“There is the matter of Scootaloo herself,” he said. “As I understand it, she is not yet wholly willing to reconcile.”
“That’s right,” Rarity cut in quickly. “She’s been warming up, but they’re still a long way off. Scootaloo is being… well, a little stubborn—”
“A courtesy,” Rainbow interrupted.
Everyone turned back to stare at Rainbow.
“A courtesy,” she repeated. “You said it yourself, Mr. Stable: as a ten-year-old, Scootaloo’s consent is ‘a courtesy to the child.’ It’s not a requirement.”
Twilight’s mouth fell open. “Rainbow,” she said, delicately, almost as if she was afraid her words would break. “Are you suggesting—?”
“I am,” Rainbow said. She looked around at the others, then sighed. “Don’t give me those looks,” she said. “You know I can’t do much with an hour twice a week. I need to be able to spend more time with her. Plus,” she said with a little smile, “I’ve been working hard on her room. When she sees how much work I’ve put into things, that will have to help. Won’t it, Fluttershy?”
Fluttershy glanced up at her, but bowed her head. “I’ve seen it,” she said carefully. “It’s… nice.”
Rainbow nodded triumphantly at Fluttershy, as if she had proved her argument. “Not to mention,” she added, “all the work I’ve done on the house, and with all that paperwork. No slacker is going to go to all that length.”
Twilight swallowed once, then again. She took a deep breath, then looked Rainbow in the eye. “Rainbow Dash,” she said, “I know that you’re in the right here… but… are you sure this is a good idea?”
For the first time, Rainbow looked uncertain of herself. “O-of course it is,” she said, with a faint stammer. “I mean, I’d be giving her a stable home. That’s miles better than what she’s got now, sleeping in a bag in a guest room—sorry, Rarity,” she added with a crooked smile.
“Yes,” Rarity said slowly, “but—”
“A-and I can help her,” Rainbow said quickly. “I still have some connections with the Wonderbolts. I can get her in to see their physical therapist. I don’t know that she’s ever seen a real flight doctor, not when she’s been living with earth ponies and unicorns. Maybe—maybe, with the right help, her wings—”
“Rainbow,” Twilight interrupted gently. “I—”
“Not to mention,” Rainbow continued, her eyes starting to glisten, “She’d be with family. For the first time in her life, she’d have a mother. A home. And I can—”
“Rainbow Dash,” Fluttershy barked, her voice hard and sharp.
Rainbow fell silent, and turned to look at her. Fluttershy glared back at her—but then, her look softened.
“Rainbow,” she repeated, her voice normal again. “I know you’ve gone to all this work… but, do you really think it’s in her best interests to uproot her again? Especially when she doesn’t seem to want to go?”
Rainbow opened her mouth, then closed it again. She looked around the circle, then looked away—and a tear ran down her cheek.
“No,” she said. “No, but—” Rainbow took a deep breath. “I don’t know how much more I can take,” she said, her voice quavering. “I… I’ve wanted to hold her for so long… To… to know who she was… to make her mine…” she sniffled. “And… and now… knowing she’s right there—right there, but I can’t…”
She looked down, trembling. “I’ve been dreaming about her,” she said. “Six months. Ever since I knew, I’ve been dreaming about her…”
She looked up, her eyes deep and hungry. “Please,” she said. “I… I know it might not be best… but, I can do it,” she said. “I can do it. And I want it—need it—need her—so badly…”
Twilight sat back. For a long time, she said nothing. Then, without a word, she glanced at Mr. Stable. He stared back at her impassively, his expression unreadable—but with the merest hint of acquiescence. Twilight then looked to Fluttershy. She licked her lips, then gave the slightest nod. Twilight then glanced at Rarity, who rolled her eyes and sighed.
“Alright,” she said dramatically, “I suppose...”
Rainbow’s face cracked into a wide, trembling grin—and then, she buried her face in her hooves and began to sob.
From here, we had one of a couple different ideas. My personal favorite:
Scootaloo reluctantly moves into RD's house. RD is trying really hard to be a good/cool mom, but the two of them keep fighting about everything--Scootaloo, who feels powerless, is being a pill, and Rainbow, who's genuinely trying her best, is beginning to lose her patience. Eventually, they fight, and both of them go to bed angry.
That night, both of them have strange dreams: In Scootaloo's case, hers is all about how badly she wants a mother-figure, and, in Rainbow's, hers is about how much her realization of how badly she's failed Scootaloo is tearing her up inside.
The next morning, they wake--and find themselves, not in their respective bedrooms, but in the living room rug, dead-asleep in each others' arms. There's a beat, and then they both start screaming, which leads to a fight.
Later, over breakfast, Scootaloo and RD finally have a quasi-normal conversation about their daily schedule, etc. They both go quiet, and, after a moment, Scootaloo clears her throat.
"Sorry," she says.
"Don't worry about it," Replies Rainbow.
And, from that point forward, their relationship begins to heal. They're still not close--at least, not mother-and-daughter close--but they at least learn to tolerate each other.
UNTIL...
Well. Maybe we'll see next time.
Also, wanted to point out: Fluttershy, you'll notice, is reluctant to praise Scootaloo's bedroom. The reason why is that she's seen it--and seen that it's all decorated in wonderbolts merchandise. Fluttershy knows it's a bad fit, and, given Scootaloo's flightlessness and bad blood with Soarin', may make her even angrier--as it, eventually, does.
“Our next competitor,” blared the loudspeakers, “Is… Scootaloo, from Ponyville!”
Rainbow Dash sat up eagerly in her seat as a cheer rippled through the crowd. In one hoof, she held a box of popcorn, and, in the other, a flag--three, actually--one each in orange, purple, and red. They matched the color scheme of her baseball cap and her T-shirt, too--mostly orange, with thick stripes of purple and scarlet. And yet, though she tried to deny it, she wore other colors too--namely, a few strands of gray in her mane.
But that didn’t matter now--Scootaloo was on. Rainbow bounced one hoof on the arm of her seat, grinning eagerly, as she watched the field.
“Sweet Celestia, Mom,” Rumble muttered in the seat next to her. “Don’t have a heart attack.” His little pegasus filly, Snapdragon, sitting on his lap, burbled faintly in agreement.
As Rainbow watched, Scootaloo stepped up to the rim of the half-pipe, her arms spread theatrically wide. She wore a swept-back helmet and goggles, and a skin-tight suit that hugged her body in all the right places, making Rumble blush. She held her skateboard in one hoof--black, in an unusual cut that mirrored the shape of the old, fold-up scooter she still kept in the attic. And, despite the fact that she was in her twenties and her stumpy little wings still had not grown in right, she wore a wide wing-band across her chest. Rules were rules, after all, and all pegasi, flightless or no, had to wear a wing-band to keep them from using their wings mid-stunt. Most competitors wore theirs in dark colors, embarrassed of their handicap, but not Scootaloo. Scootaloo wore hers bright red. I don’t need my wings to fly, she screamed to the world--and the world cheered in return.
Scootaloo bowed dramatically, then set her board on the lip of the half-pipe. She waited for a long, agonizing moment--then leaned forward and dropped into the pipe.
Rainbow Dash watched her fall, and it felt like it was her own stomach flying up into her throat. They’d been working together on these stunts for years--ever since it became apparent to both of them that her daughter would never be a racer like her. As she watched her fall into her routine, Rainbow’s mind flashed back to all those years--of working late nights and saturdays to build her a half-pipe of her own in a back corner of Sweet Apple Acres, of falling asleep in the old clubhouse listening to her daughter practice late into the night, of watching all those filmstrips of past competitions until she could no longer keep her eyes open--and she smiled.
Scootaloo shot down one side of the half-pipe and back up the other. She swung the board around, executing a tight U-turn, and shot back down, then back up the other side. And, though her board cleared the top edge this time, she didn’t even try for a trick--instead, she turned around and shot back down the pipe again.
Rainbow frowned. What in Equestria was she doing? She clearly had the time for a quick grind, at least…
And then, Scootaloo did it again--this time shooting three or four feet into the air, but turning back around and heading straight down, never moving from the board. Rainbow’s eyes went wide, and she clapped her hooves to her mouth, making Rumble turn to stare at her.
She wasn’t going for the tricks--she was building speed.
Rainbow’s eyes began to glisten. Oh, Sweet Celestia, she thought. She’s doing it.
The crazy stunt that had blacked both her eyes more than once. The stunt that had left her spitting blood. The stunt that she hadn’t even attempted for almost a full year, when she was pregnant with Snap. The stunt that even Rainbow thought she was crazy to try.
And here she was--doing it now, in front of a crowd of thousands.
Most of the stadium seemed to realize what was happening at about the same time. A few cheers went up, but these fell still as everyone held their breath, as everyone leaned forward in their seats.
Scootaloo shot up the pipe again--then did it.
As she fell back into the pipe, she leaned down and grabbed the board with her forehooves. At the same time, she dropped her back hooves off the board, pushing, sprinting with them for every drop of speed she could muster. As the pipe began to rise again, Scootaloo pulled her hooves back onto the board, and curled herself into a tiny ball, barely a little bump on the board. And, as she cleared the top of the pipe, she wrenched the board sideways.
Scootaloo shot up into the air, the board spinning, with her body pressed tightly to it. She soared high into the air, spinning once--twice--
--the flight of the board began to slow, but still she spun--
--thrice--four times--
The stadium itself seemed to hold its breath.
--and she began to sink back to earth--
--five times--
And then, the sharp crack of wheels on wood.
Rainbow jammed one hoof in her mouth and whistled, a high, shrieking cry, while, with her other hoof, she pounded the arm of her seat over and over again, spraying popcorn in every direction. “That’s my kid!” she screamed, as everyone around her stood and cheered. She leaned forward and grabbed two college-age stallions by the shoulders and shook them. “That’s my daughter!” she shrieked as they turned to stare at her. “She stuck the landing! Five-and-a-half times around! A Nineteen-Eighty! Ain’t never seen that before, have ya?” She leapt to her hooves and roared at the top of her lungs: “Go Scootaloo!!”
Scootaloo wobbled, but remained steady on her board. She rode it down the pipe, her momentum taking her up over the far side again. She pulled another quick flip, but her routine had already hit its climax--and it had been more than enough.
She went up and down and up again, then, as the board reached the bottom of the pipe, she stepped off it. The board continued without her, up and down again, and, as it passed her, Scootaloo kicked it, sending it spiraling up and into her waiting hoof. She bowed again, like an actress on stage, and the stadium roared and leapt to its hooves.
Rainbow whistled again, then eagerly turned to watch the pegasus working the scoreboard. One by one, he slid the numbers into place--and, suddenly, Rainbow’s eyes flashed with anger. “A nine-point-eight?” she roared. “Who the buck gave her a nine-point-eight? That was a ten and you know it, you dirty horse! I want names--I’m gonna cut off your dock and shove it up your--”
Rumble grabbed her arm. “Mom,” he breathed. “Look.”
And she looked. She stared, uncomprehending--and then, the anger went out of her eyes, and she put her hooves to her mouth again.
“Forty-nine-point-six,” she read carefully. “W-with her run this morning, that’s worth at least…”
“At least the top five,” Rumble finished, in awe.
Rainbow shook her head. “No,” she said quietly. “That’s gold.” She hesitated, then looked down at Rumble. “Is there something above gold? Platinum?”
Rumble smiled. “Let’s worry about this one first,” he said. He grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her from her seat. “Let’s go meet her.” Rainbow followed him in a faint daze.
When they stepped onto the field, Scootaloo was walking towards them, board tucked under her wing, sweat dripping from her face, and grinning from ear to ear. The next competitor, a unicorn from Canterlot, was already in the middle of his routine, but few paid attention to him--most of the press was following Scootaloo, flashbulbs popping.
Rainbow got to her first, and pulled her in for a hug. For a long moment, she was silent, then she sniffled. “You did good, kid,” she muttered.
Scootaloo smiled. “Thanks, Mom,” she said.
Scootaloo let go of her, then Rainbow stepped back, trying to subtly wipe away a tear, as Rumble stepped in. Rumble hugged his wife tight--but not too tight to squish Snapdragon, who reached eagerly for her mama--and kissed her. “I’m proud of you,” he said, “And she is, too,” he said, nodding at the retreating Rainbow. “So proud.”
Scootaloo nodded against him, feeling the tears in her eyes. “I know,” she said. “I heard her whistling.”
Rumble chuckled. “Wish you could see her,” he added. “It’s adorable to see her absolutely lose it when she watches you, then try to play it cool.”
Scootaloo shook her head. “She wouldn’t let me see, not in a million years--but that’s fine,” she said. “Just having her here is enough.”
One of the journalists suddenly stepped forward. “Family portrait?” he offered, hefting his camera.
Rumble and Scootaloo broke away from each other. Scootaloo pulled her goggles up on top of her helmet, then tossed her board away and took Snap in her arms. She stood there for a moment, then looked around, confused.
Rainbow Dash stood off to the side, pressed in among the journalists, with her arms wrapped around herself, an uneasy, almost nauseous expression on her face. Scootaloo beckoned to her, but she shook her head and shot her an awkward, crooked smile.
“No,” she called, over the murmur of the photographers. “This is your time to shine.”
Scootaloo shook her head firmly. “Not how this works,” she said, beckoning again. “Get over here. You’re part of this family too.”
Rainbow Dash’s mouth fell open, and her eyes went wide. She dropped slowly, carefully, to all fours, almost as if she were afraid the ground itself would shatter at her touch. And, slowly, she stepped forward, into the limelight.
She walked behind Scootaloo and Rumble, and put a hoof on each of their shoulders, and smiled. The four of them--Scootaloo, Rumble, Snapdragon, and Rainbow Dash--smiled for the camera. And, for the first time in a long, long time, Rainbow didn’t mind that the camera caught her crying.
