The Past Is Not Forgotten
You were gone...
Yes, I was.
For a very long time...I didn't think you'd come back.
Scootaloo barely looked at the mare who lay before her on the bed; not because of fear but in uncertainty. It had taken the mare a great deal of time to muster up the courage to even just open the door itself, not to mention what it took to sit by the bed and have a conversation -- if one could even call their meager exchange of words that. Scootaloo had almost not even come in the first place, and now she was beginning to wonder if she'd been better off spending the day with Rainbow Dash rather than subjecting herself to this.
'A good day.' Is what the Doctors had called it -- if Scootaloo recalled correctly -- they said that she'd been remembering things a little more. That had been part of the reason she'd came. The mare in the bed was lucid -- or as lucid as one could be in the state she was in -- though she didn't know how much of the memories the mare had retained after all this time, especially in the end stage of Alzheimer's.
Scoot--Scootaloo. That's your name.
Yes.
It was strange to hear this mare speak her name the way she did now. There wasn't anything venomous, or scornful about it. It was soft, and almost maternal in the way it was spoken; as if there was some sort of joyful memory behind it, a shared experience between Mother and Daughter; though Scootaloo hadn't referred to her as that in many, many moons -- it wasn't a title she was comfortable with -- the mare before her had never been a Mother, not to her at least.
You used to be so small. I remember...you were just a baby. They took you away...I don't know why. You look so different...
I am different. I grew up.
I don't understand...
Scootaloo shuffled her hooves awkwardly in the mare's confusion over the past. She'd thought she would have remembered everything, but perhaps that had been asking for too much given the situation.
Silence fell over the two of them. There was a guilty feeling inside her over the fact that she coudn't figure out what to say to the mare, and Scoots couldn't figure out why. It wasn't like they knew each other, it wasn't like they'd been apart of one another's lives -- not since Scootaloo had only been a few moons old. This mare might as well have been a stranger off the side of the street. Neither knew anything about the other's current lives, and Scootaloo had only found out the elderly mare was here when one of the Doctors had chased her down because the she'd been asking for her 'daughter'.
...Scootaloo?
What is it?
Where did you go? Someone came...and then you were just gone. I couldn't find you. I came to school with your lunch a few times to give it to you. You always forgot it, but whenever I showed up you weren't there.
There was another pause of silence. Had the mare already forgotten that much? Had she been showing up at the school before they'd placed her in the home to deliver food for a child who had long since grown up and gotten a life of her own? Scootlaoo wondered how long that had been going on for before Doctors had finally realized what was going on and gotten the elderly mare help. Did she see Scootaloo as a child still?
They told me you'd stopped going to school years ago...but that doesn't make any sense...
Scootaloo looked away from the mare, allowing the silence to fall over them again.
Someone had drawn the curtains, and the sun barely peeked through, making the room dark. The atmosphere was befitting of the situation. Someone at some point had tried prettying up the place with some flowers here and there; perhaps trying to make the room feel more like a home rather than an end stage patient care placement. There were books stored, untouched, in a small bookshelf by a fireplace whose coals had burned to embers, and a cup of tea -- which Scootaloo guessed had gone cold hours ago -- on the table where an array of flowers sat. However, the surroundings failed their task in trying to hide that, underneath it all, this was the place the mare was going to die. The room was simply the place where Doctors had put her to try and make it more comfortable until she did.
Scootaloo?
You don't remember the last time you saw me...do you?
The mare looked at her in hurt confusion; it was a look that screamed, "Well of course I do, I'm your Mother!" But Scootlaoo could tell almost immediately that this mare didn't have any recollection of what had taken place the day before the service workers had come and taken the baby Pegasus away from her abusive Mother. It was a memory that Scootaloo had never been able to erase from her mind, just one of the many that still haunted her at night. Ever since she came here she had known exactly what she'd wanted to say to the mare, exactly what she'd planned on screaming in her vile face...but now the Pegasus was at a loss of words, unable to speak a single syllable of what she'd come here to.
You know, I thought I knew exactly what would happen when I showed up here. I had what I planned on saying to you rehearsed in my head, and I played it over and over again on the way here just to make sure I could do it...there have been a lot of things I wanted to say to you over the years, I just never got the chance to until now.
Scootaloo flinched when she felt a hoof lightly touch her cheek, finding it slightly ironic at how gentle the connection had been given her past. The look the mare gave her was surprising, almost like she was seeing her daughter clearly for the first time, even if she couldn't quite recall the history the two shared. Looking down at her now, Scootaloo was slightly dumbfounded by the mare's appearance; she had forgotten how alike they looked. They had the same eyes; and coat -- if ever so slightly different in colour -- and their manes were similar as well; the difference being the purple streaks in the elderly mare's own mane where Scootaloo had none.
You're so beautiful, Scootaloo. I'm proud of you.
That sounds...so strange coming from you. I didn't think you'd ever been proud of me.
I was. I remember when I took you out to buy that little scooter of yours. You used to ride it around all the time, and you were so excited because of how fast you were, and you'd have little races with your friends...
The mare smiled as she recalled the distant memory. Scootaloo had rarely her smile smile before, and it was a somewhat alien sight to her since she remembered the mare's anger more than anything. She'd been so happy the day she'd gotten that scooter. It was the first once she ever had. The only time she'd ever felt anywhere close to flying was when she was on it.
Then you came home one day crying because you'd crashed it, and you were all scraped up, and the scooter was completely broken; you were so truthful about what had happened when I asked. You always told me the truth. I was proud of you for that.
You always had a funny way of showing it.
Scootaloo was frowning, she remembered that day very well. That was the day when she'd been at the park with some friends and had attempted to do a flip that she saw some older colts doing on one of the ramps. The scooter had shot out right from under her and smashed on the pavement. The handle broke from the fall, and Scootaloo had gotten all banged up from sliding down the ramp when she fell off. She ran home crying and had told her mother what happened. She apologized profusely when the mare got angry about the totalled scooter too, and told her she'd use her own money to pay to get it fixed. Her mother had given her a black eye in return, and then proceeded to leave the filly alone in their house to tend to her own injuries, while the mare had gone off to throw out the broken scooter.
I used to think it was my fault, you know? The way you treated me...I used to think I had done something wrong...After Dad died you changed. You used to tell me that it was my fault that he died, but it wasn't. It took me a long time to realize that, but it wasn't my fault. It never was. It was just a horrible accident. You should never have blamed me for it.
Of course not, sweetheart. I don't blame you, I know it wasn't your fault. There was never anything you could have done. He just...died.
I used to feel like I failed you. All the time I thought if I'd done something different you would have ended up better.
You never failed me, Scootaloo.
It was clear that the mare didn't fully understand what it was that Scootaloo was saying. In her eyes the daughter standing before her was still that bright-eyed filly she'd known before the tragedy of her husband, and before the booze, and the intoxicated abuse. This mare was the mare Scootaloo had known before her Dad had died, and she wasn't sure her mother would ever remember the horror of what she'd put her daughter through.
...I think if you really knew who I was today that you'd be really proud of me. I've done so many things since I knew you. I'm not that broken little filly anymore. I got my cutie mark, I went on adventures, and helped others...I've made so many friends...I've lived, Momma...
...Scootaloo...
That word...it felt so strange on Scootaloo's lips. She hadn't called this mare that since she was a little filly. She'd stopped calling her that a long time ago so to hear herself say it now was strange, but she kept going, a small, sad smile across her face as she took the aged mare's hooves in her own as tears welled up in her eyes. The mare looked so confused over what was happening, but gripped her daughter tightly, staring up at her with kind violet eyes.
You didn't have an easy life either...I know that. And all those terrible things you did to me, and the stuff you said...you only did it because you thought that what you were doing was right, because that's all you'd ever known...but I have a family now, Momma, and they love me more than anything. Rainbow Dash, Applebloom, Sweetie Belle...and so many others...They protect me, and they are everything that I deserve. If you met them...I think you'd be thankful that I have them, and I don't know what I'd do without them...
You deserve so much, Scootaloo...
Shh...it's okay. I know you don't remember, and that this is confusing for you...but it's okay. Sometimes I wish that I could forget it too because the memories scare me so much...
Scared? No, Scootaloo you don't have to be scared. Scootaloo?
Scootaloo felt tears dribble down her cheeks, and she dipped her head into the mare's chest for a moment, feeling her mother's arms embrace her in confused worry for her daughter. She knew that her mother wouldn't understand why she was crying, or what she was saying, but that was okay, she was happy that her mother was able to forget. Scootaloo didn't want her to remember the horrible things she'd done, or the way she'd broken her own daughter. She realized now that it was better this way for the both of them.
I don't have to carry around those horrible memories anymore...I can be free. I can't hate you, Momma. I can't resent you for what you did because that'll only keep me stuck..and I don't want to be stuck anymore. I did good, I found my way without you, and I'm okay now...and I don't want you to worry about me anymore.
In the dull light she could see the mare smiling now, tear-filled eyes glimmering in the light as she gave her hooves a gentle squeeze, not flinching this time when her mother tenderly touched a hoof to her face, as if trying to figure out what to say, but Scootaloo continued to talk again before the mare could even open her mouth.
Maybe one day I'll have a daughter too, and I'll be able to give her the life I never had, so that she'll never have to feel alone. I'll make sure that she always knows that she is loved, and that she is wanted. I'll be the mother that you used to be, and not the one that you became.
Scootaloo...you're all grown up...you used to be so little.
Scootaloo felt tears slide down her cheeks as she gave a shaky breath, letting go of her mother as the mare looked up at her with that warm smile that she once knew. There wasn't anything malicious in those beautiful violet eyes of hers, just the motherly love that Scootaloo had always wanted to see, and she couldn't help but give a sigh of relief.
This is how I'm going to remember you, Momma. I'm going to remember you as the kind mare who used to sing me to sleep at night, and chase me down on my way to school just to make sure that I got my lunch. I'm going to remember you as the mother who loved her daughter the best she could...
I love you Scootaloo.
Goodbye, Momma.
The Pegasus mare stood from where she sat by the bed, giving another small smile to her mother as she gave her a small kiss on the forehead and turned away from her to leave the room. It was harder than she thought it would be, but there was nothing left to say now. Scootaloo had made her peace the best that she could. She was free. However, she stopped when her mother's voice called out one last time.
Could you open the curtains, please?
...Of course.
She walked towards the bed once more and pulled the curtains open, allowing the fading light of the sun fill the dimly lit room. Her mother had a contented smile on her face when Scootaloo met her gaze again, a somewhat glassy look in the mare's eyes as her brows furrowed in careful thought; almost like there was something she remembered but couldn't quite figure out what it was.
You know, you remind me of my daughter...
Scootaloo simply smiled, and walked out of the room.
Author's Note
In my own headcanon Scootaloo is pretty much an orphan. When she was still very young her father died in a freak accident while out with his daughter, and her mother ended up blaming her for it, and became very abusive, especially when alcohol was involved. Eventually Scootaloo was taken away by social workers and placed in a few foster homes before she became an adult. Later on in life, a Doctor from a end care home came knocking on her door and explained the situation, and for whatever reason Scootaloo agrees to see her mother.
Living with an abusive parent is very hard, and I channeled a lot of that experience into Scootaloo. At the end of the day there are still a lot of things I wish I could have said to my own abusive mother, but I think deep down a lot of what I wish I could say is very similar to what Scootaloo ended up saying here. I can't hate my mother for what she did, it would only leave me bitter and stuck in the past. I can't let the damage she caused me hold me back from doing the things I want to do with my life, so in the end I decided that it would be best if Scootaloo made peace with her own mother.
