Meeting Her Father

by Hopeful_Ink_Hoof

Rating: everyone
Tags: Drama, Troubleshoes, Slice of Life, Babs Seed, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Alternate Universe, Anthro
Length: 2410

With her wedding to Twist coming up, Babs Seed meets her father for the first time (A Junior Gala Universe inspired story)

Babs Seed grew up never knowing her father. Now, with her wedding to Twist fast approaching, she finally managed to find out who and where he is. It's a big step in her life, to finally meet the stallion that helped bring her into the world.

One she's not sure she's ready for.

(This story is based on MustLoveFrogs's Junior Gala universe and written with permission.)

Published 2018-12-02 23:50:01 UTC
Last updated 2018-12-02 23:50:01 UTC

At the Threshold

Babs Seed stood at the edge of the small patch of woods outside of Appleloosa, staring at the dark red train car that had been set among them. She had been to the town a few times to visit parts of her family, but had never come out to this part of it. According to some of her cousins who lived in town, there was a giant that lived out here, and if he caught a foal in his woods, he would crush and eat them

Turns out it had all been gossip mixed with childish imagination. There was no giant monster living in the woods outside Appleloosa, ready to eat stray and naughty fillies and colts. Although it turned out there was a very large stallion.

And that stallion was her father.

Babs wrapped her arms around her chest, hugging herself tight. Anxiety crawled and squirmed in her belly, making her heart flutter like a hummingbird and turning her legs to lead. Maybe she should have let Twist come along with her for support, but she just had to do this alone.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed the worst of her dread aside, and started walking.

It had taken some alcohol, a lot of yelling, and receiving a more than a few rage-filled blows, but after so many years, Babs finally, finally, got her mother to talk about her father. Granted, it had only, but that was more than she had ever gotten growing up. Plus, it was enough for her to start searching. Especially helpful was the fact that there were no records of anyone else by the name of Troubleshoes Clyde.

Now, here she was, standing outside his home, about to meet him for the first time.

Just a span of wood separated them.

After years of wondering, she was finally going to meet him.

All she had to do was knock.

Babs wondered if there was something wrong with the air. She felt like she was not able to get enough for some reason, like there was nowhere near enough oxygen or something.

Actually, it felt like something was squeezing her chest. Like Cousin Macintosh was giving her a bone-crushing bear hug.

Maybe she did not need to do this? She had never had a real father in her life, and she had made it this far. Not even any of the her mother's boyfriends who she had actually met before they were gone. She had Twist, Trixie, and her cousins from Ponyville at the very least, even if Apple Bloom was going through her own "Bad Seed" phase. She could go back now, and nothing would change.

No. No. She had come this far. It was too close to give up and turn back. Besides, she knew she would regret it, coming so close and chickening out at the last minute. More so when she told Twist. Oh, Twist would understand of course, but the thought of telling her made Babs feel like she had failed somehow. Plus, if they ever came back, she would be wondering about it, considering to see him, and looking at every stallion in town to see if she recognized him.

She had to do this. Had to. No matter how it turned out.

Forcing her fingers to release their steel vice grip on her elbow, she lifted her hand and knocked.

Inside, Troubleshoes Clyde jerked awake at the sound, the book on his chest falling to the floor. He blinked the sleep from his eyes as he stared at the door, ears perked and listening for any more noise.

Troubleshoes did not get visitors. Especially during the day time. These days, the only ponies who came out here were young teens daring each other to go near the train car so they could prove how brave they were. Probably did not help that he only went to town to pick up and send out mail (which was becoming pointless; not a lot of folks were interested in paintings by a washed-up prize fighter, and the residuals were becoming less and less), and stock up on supplies for another month or so. He could not for the life of him remember the last time someone had come to visit.

Another knock came from the door.

Probably someone what got lost and needs help back to town, Troubleshoes thought as he got up from his cot.

"Just a sec," he called out as he started across the small space in his deep baritone. His large hooves thumped against the wooden floorboards as he walked. Gripping the handle, he pulled it open to reveal --

"Firewood?" he blurted out before even realizing it.

"No, sir. My name is Babs Seed. May I come in?"

Troubleshoes's excitement at being reunited with the mare he had fallen so hard for all those years quickly turned into disappointment as the voice the young mare spoke with was not the sweet southern twang he could still hear. Now that he took a good look at her, he could see little differences. Babs was taller than Firewood, and broader built. The burnt orange of her coat was darker, and eyes greener. Plus, she was around the age he and Firewood had been when they met.

As Babs stood there being studied, she took the moment to study Troubleshoes back. The elevated floor of the train car made it difficult to tell exactly, but he did look to be pretty tall. His shoulders were on the broader side, and there were signs that he had been pretty well-muscled, although they had gotten softer with time. Despite that, though, Babs found nothing about him the slightest bit intimidating or threatening. In fact, he looked... sad. Tired. Like he had been through something and just did not care what happened next.

"Sure," Troubleshoes finally replied. Crouching down, he held out one hand. "Here. Let me help you up."

Giving a nod, Babs took a hold of the hand, which were nearly three times the size of her own (which were by no means dainty). His grip was extremely gentle, like her hand was made of glass, as he helped her step up into the train car. Now that they were on the same level, Babs could see that she only came up to the top of his nose.

"Have a seat," Troubleshoes said as he moved away. "Would you like a glass of sweet tea?"

"Sure," Babs said. She sat down in the only chair in the room. The wooden legs gave a groan under her weight. She took the offered glass of tea.

It suddenly made her realize how dry her mouth and throat felt, making her down the entire thing.

"So, what brings you here?" Troubleshoes asked as he sat down on the cot.

Babs suddenly felt all the tea vanish from her mouth, leaving it as dry as the desert outside. She wished she had another glass of it. And a way to keep this moment from happening.

You can do it Babsy, she imagined Twist telling her with that faint hint of a lisp she still had. She could do this. Just get it out quick. Like tearing off a band-aid.

"Firewood Apple is my ma," Babs blurted out. "And..." She took a deep breath and licked her lips. "... I think you're my father..."

A second passed in tense silence. Two. Three.

"Your... father..." Troubleshoes said slowly.

Babs nodded. She had done it. She had told him. Now she just needed to see how he would react. Denial? Anger? Accusations?

"Could you excuse me for a moment?" Troubleshoes asked as he stood up. Walking past Babs, he made his way to the door and went outside, leaving her alone.

That was not what she had expected.

Outside, Troubleshoes Clyde walked around the small patch of woods that he owned. He felt something that he had not felt for years.

Rage.

A father. He was a father. He had a daughter. And he was just now finding out. After years. A lifetime. Firewood had been pregnant, and kept it from him. Not a single word. He had missed so much. Her birth. Her first words. Her first steps. How many school events had he missed? How many scrapes and scratches? What about her first love? First heartbreak? What about teaching her to ride a bicycle? Maybe teaching her to defend herself? So many things he missed out on. So many things he could have shared, that he should have, but never had an opportunity.

With a chest-rumbling growl, he slammed one meaty fist into a tree. The thick trunk shook from the impact. Pain exploded through his hand and shot up into his elbow, causing him to wince. Pulling his hand away, he flexed his fingers. The middle was stiff and throbbed achingly with every attempt. Most likely fractured.

It was a reminder of what Pa had told him growing up: "gotta be careful when you're mad, 'cause you'll hurt yourself most."

Left alone inside the train car, Babs looked around. There was not much in the way of furniture, just the chair she was in, a cot with a foot locker at the base, and a rug that was so worn and faded, it was hard to tell what the original color had been. One wall had a window cut into it, although it looked to be a bit lopsided.

One corner especially caught her attention, and partially because it was all so out of place. There was an artist easel folded up and resting against one wall. There was a barrel with numerous paints, brushes, and multiple palettes on it, covered in paint to one extent or another. On one side of the easel, leaning against the wall, was a collection of blank canvases, and against the other was canvases that had been painted already.

Always being curious, and never much caring about manners, Babs got up and walked over, looking through the paintings. There was a picture of the Appleloosa skyline, a picture of the woods without the trailer, a picture of the woods with a trailer, some hills. Landscape. Landscape. Landscape. L...

Babs stopped, staring at the portrait. Slowly, carefully, she took a hold of it, lifting it out from the others and turning it upright. It was a picture of her mother, Firewood. She looked so young. So loving. So happy. There was a twinkle in her eye and a smile on her lips. And the detail was incredible. Babs could see and count every freckle on the face and neck.

A of time and effort went into the painting. A lot of love.

Wood groaned from behind her, getting her attention to find Troubleshoes returning. It was like she was a filly getting caught stealing cookies by Granny Smith all over again.

"Sorry," she said. "I saw the paintings and was curious. Then I found this one and..."

She trailed off as Troubleshoes held up one large hand.

"It's fine," he said as he walked closer. "What's the point of makin' somethin' if no one ever gets to see it?" Taking a hold of the painting, he held it up. looking at it.

Babs saw a scowl appear on his face, and quickly vanished. He let out a sigh.

"Only portrait I've ever painted."

Turning it around, he set it back down, facing the wall. Several seconds passed in silence.

"Did she ever..." he started to ask, but trailed off.

"She dated a lot of fellas," Babs said, "but never got married."

She took a deep breath, readying herself.

"Which kinda ties to why I'm here."

She reached into a pocket, pulling out an envelope and holding it out to Troubleshoes.

"Here."

"What is this?" Troubleshoes asked as he took the envelope.

"It's an invitation to my wedding," answered Babs. "I'm getting married this summer, and I'd like you to be there."

Troubleshoes looked at the cream colored envelope, feeling the weight of it. A finger traced along the back of it, stopping on the sticker that held the flap shut. He would open it later, being careful not to tear the envelope. That way he could keep it and the invitation inside as in good shape as possible.

His gaze shifted from the invitation to the painting of Firewood.

"You're not going to get in trouble for me being there, are you?" he asked.

The question gave Babs pause. The idea that he might worry about something like that had never crossed her mind. It took another second to realize why he might be worried about it. She looked away from him, pulling her arms tight across her chest.

"Ma refuses to go anywhere near Ponyville," she replied, "and made it clear that she ain't coming to my wedding."

Firewood's words on the matter echoed through Babs's mind, and her jaw clenched as she pushed the memory away, fighting the tears that went with it.

"Sunflower took off when she turned eighteen," she continued. "Haven't heard from or seen her since. Only family by blood's gonna be Granny Smith and some of my cousins." Her mouth quirked up slightly. "And they'd welcome you same as if they had known you their whole lives."

The ember of anger in Troubleshoes flared up again as he looked at his daughter. This was major event in Babs' life. One that, Celestia willing, only happened once. It was one that her mother should be there for. How could Firewood not go? How could she refuse to be there for something so important? So beautiful? How in tarnation could she not be there for her daughter?

The anger was doused by sadness as he looked at Babs. Seeing her pulled in tight, hugging herself, a sad smile on her face, it broke his heart.

He moved to give her a hug, but stopped. This may have been his daughter, but they had just met for the first time just a few minutes ago. They were essentially strangers to each other. As such, she may not be comfortable with a hug from the big old stallion.

Instead, he reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"I would love to go," he said, smiling.

Smiling back, Babs lunged forward, wrapping her arms around him.

Troubleshoes's smile grew larger as he returned the hug.

A hug between father and daughter.