“Scoots? Scootaloo! You here? You anywhere?!” a pegasus drifted above the town of Ponyville, flying fast, and flying low. Where is she? Her trademark rainbow tail whipped behind her, a sharp, brilliant contrast to the pale evening sky. She flew just a bit higher, pausing to scan the streets. Nothing there, but… there. Her gaze locked onto the very edge of Ponyville, and its adjoining cliff. And the small, orange figure, tinted with a shock of pink mane. Oh no.
Rainbow Dash burst forward again, reaching the cliff in record time. As she neared the clearing, her pace dropped considerably.
“Scootaloo?”
The younger mare startled, then settled. “Hey, Dash.”
Rainbow carefully folded her wings, walking the short length to the edge of the grass, to where the other pony sat. She flicked her kaleidoscopic tail aside, sitting down. “How’re you?” she nudged Scootaloo gently.
Scootaloo shook her head, and shrugged slightly, never taking her eyes off the sunset. Her jaw was tight, mane blowing back.
Rainbow’s eyes softened, crinkling at the edges -- a look not everypony got to see. “Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom are worried,” she shot Scootaloo a sideways glance, “So’m I.” Scootaloo shrugged again, but a slight, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it tremor rippled through her, starting from hooves, and working its way up. Rainbow lifted a wing, brushing it against Scootaloo’s own. The younger flinched as feather met feather.
“I’m okay,” she murmured. She refused to look from the sky; she could already feel Rainbow’s intense gaze on her. She couldn’t see it. She clenched her teeth, biting down hard.
Rainbow’s eyes flicked up, heaving a sigh all on their own. “What’d the results say?” Rainbow’s voice was low, eyes dark and invested.
Scootaloo’s back went rigid under Dash’s wing. “I…”
“No,” Rainbow held a hoof up, before Scootaloo had even a chance at continuing, “No. You’re not gonna be tough with me. Soarin and I practically raised you. You’re not getting away that easy. Spill.”
Scootaloo began to quiver under Rainbow’s touch. She bit her tongue desperately, but the tears were already forming; salty pools gathering in the edges of her eyes. Then they streamed, pulsing out of her, unheeding Scootaloo’s best attempts to stay strong, stay strong, stay strong.
Rainbow’s heart slammed forward. Those tears weren’t painless. They weren’t worthless. They meant something, and she didn’t like it, at all. Her wing tightened, going to draw the other mare close. But Scootaloo resisted, shrugging completely out of Rainbow’s grasp. She dropped her head, giving in to the tears, and simply letting them fall. She pressed a hoof against her muzzle, making not a sound. Not a sob, not a squeak, not a cry. She cried silently.
“Talk to me,” Rainbow said. It wasn’t a question, nor was it an option. Her tone was firm.
“I-I’m n-never-” Scootaloo started, voice breaking. Maybe her heart was breaking too. She kept her hoof hard against her muzzle, squeezing her eyes shut. She just wanted this to be over. The pain, the hurt, everything. She couldn’t do this anymore.
“It’s alright,” Rainbow shifted uncomfortably. She needed to test the waters; how far she could push -- but without going too far. She continued, carefully, “Tell me what the results were. I can help you.”
Scootaloo’s whole body shook. There was a sharp ache in her stomach; she felt terrible. As if she were going to be sick. Her eyes burned, stinging just a bit more with each tear, and her limbs felt so, so heavy.
“Scootaloo,” Rainbow’s brow furrowed, “What is going on?”
“I’m never going to fly,” she whispered. The last of her façade broke. Sobs ripped through her, and she sagged completely. Rainbow’s eyes darkened even a shade more, as understanding and realization dawned and hit home. She moved closer, catching the younger mare tightly with conditioned wings. Scootaloo fought, but this time, Rainbow put all her strength into the embrace. She locked her wings, unfazed. Not minutes later, Scootaloo gave it up, falling forward onto her fillyhood idol’s shoulder, and crying every bit of hurt out. All the bitterness, all the helplessness, all the heartbreak… they streamed out in heavy rivets.
“You’re okay,” Rainbow whispered, panting slightly with effort. She stayed firm as her coat stained wet. “You’re going to be okay.”
“No!” Scootaloo gasped through raspy sobs, “I hate this!” Everything hurt so much. Emotionally, physically, did it matter? What was the difference?
“You’re going to be okay,” Rainbow repeated, “And I know. I know. But you’re gonna be okay.”
“No,” Scootaloo whispered, voice broken with little, soft cries.
Rainbow could feel her slipping away, sinking. “C’mon,” she said, keeping her tone even, betraying nothing of her true feelings, “stay with me here.”
“What if- what if I don’t want to?” Scootaloo choked. Her eyes were on fire; she shut them. It didn’t help.
Rainbow felt panic slice through her, making her heart pick up three paces. She had suspected this, but she hadn’t been prepared to hear Scootaloo actually say it. “No. Don’t you even go there. Scootaloo, seriously. You’re not going to give up,” she gave Scootaloo a hard shake.
“No more,” Scootaloo cried. There was nothing left inside her, just an empty pit. The strength, the simple will to fight – to live – just weren’t there anymore. There was no hope, nor any light. Just a whirlpool of darkness.
“Scootaloo! Stop it! You can’t think like this!” Rainbow ordered, voice rising, before she could control herself.
“I’m sorry,” Scootaloo’s voice was hoarse, almost breathless. She sounded hollow, even to herself. And yet, her skin felt too tight. Oh, how she wanted, needed, the darkness. The one pain reliever.
“Stop it. Scootaloo, Scoots, come on. You’re gonna be alright. Not now, sure, but soon. Just fight, don’t give up. If not for yourself, then… then… then for me,” Rainbow ended in a whisper, voice crackling. This was unreal, and in the worst possible way. Where was the filly who never doubted herself? The teenager who knew she could do anything? She wanted to real Scootaloo back. The Scootaloo she had grown to know, to love like her own daughter.
“Everything hurts, Dash. I hate this.” All of a sudden, Scootaloo was exhausted. Her eyes seemed to heavy to hold open, in a much deeper sense than the simple stinging. The tears slowed solely through sheer weariness. Her legs, even with her sitting, couldn’t hold her weight anymore; she dropped straight to her knees. Rainbow’s wings tightened yet even more, bringing and holding the other mare up.
“I know, Scoots,” Rainbow said, quietly. She searched desperately for the magic words; the words that would at least ease that pain. “I’m sorry. So sorry.” She inhaled with a shudder of her own. She could feel the beginning of a strain, from holding the full weight of another mare.
“I-I just can’t.” Scootaloo whispered. She didn’t care if her words didn’t make sense anymore. Nothing did. Except for the relentless squeezing, the tugging, in her heart. The end was close… so, so close. The end to all this hurt. She could feel it passing through her hooves, so close she just barely couldn’t reach it.
“C’mon, Scoots. You’ll be okay. Come home with me tonight? You can spend the night with us, with Soarin and me. You don’t have to be alone,” Rainbow hesitated, “I won’t let you be alone.” Despite the strong words, her voice was dry. She was scared, bone-deep scared. For a Wonderbolt, this wasn’t a familiar feeling. But right now, the Wonderbolt was really, truly, scared. She glanced down, at the crumpled mare in her wings. Her heart swelled, filled to the brim with emotions. She had been so proud of the mare Scootaloo had become. And now, she felt sadness. That she had never thought about how much flying really did mean to her; that she’d never offered any PT sessions… nothing. That Scootaloo hurt so deeply, that she found it, quite literally, unbearable.
“Dash…” Scootaloo murmured. Her own voice was chipped, as though somepony had drizzled glass through her typically-smooth tone. She could feel Rainbow’s wings quivering against her own. A good half of her wanted to tell Dash to let go. Let her fly, at last, fly like she never could -- and never would. But the other half, the quieter, smaller half, mind, began to want to keep Rainbow around her.
“Yes?” Rainbow answered, voice just as low as Scootaloo’s. Her wings were quaking now; fear and strain taking their tolls. She felt the younger pegasus twitch, and turn, just slightly. Their eyes met, for a brief moment. And Rainbow realized, for a brief, little moment, just how deep they were in.
Scootaloo’s eyes were dull, completely void of the fire that had burned not too long ago. They were red-rimmed, and much more so than this bout of crying alone would do. Which meant this hadn’t been the first time. They were dark and liquid, pleading for help; doing what Scootaloo consciously couldn’t.
Rainbow tightened her own jaw, looking away from the huddled mess of a mare. She took a few inhales, trying to gather herself. “Please fight, Scootaloo. Please, do it for me.”
“Please…” Scootaloo whimpered. Her head pulsed in time with her stomach. Her heartbeats echoed in her ears, so loud, loud, loud. Her mind was foggy, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t think clearly. The only clear thing was the darkness, wide open, and waiting for her.
Rainbow wrapped her hooves around Scootaloo, letting her sore wings fall limp at her sides. Neatly, she lay down right beside the other mare, staying hush. The both of them turned up at the sky.
It was alight with color now, filled with the pale purples of sadness, the brilliant blues of trust and care, the reds of love, and the faint sliver of yellow warmth. The deep purples of Scootaloo’s eyes when she tried to hide emotion, the blue of the sky as she looked up when finally telling Rainbow what was going on, the red part of Rainbow’s mane as she wrapped her fan into a hug. The yellow of the blanket they shared during monthly sleepovers.
“Stay,” Rainbow’s voice was raw, but she kept still. Her heart was swaying, but she remained steadfast. A chill swept over her as reality caught up. She wanted this to be a nightmare, where she could wake up in her warm cloudhouse, covered in blanket, and fall into Soarin’s comforting hooves. But this was very much all too real.
“I don’t… know… what to do,” Scootaloo sank further. Into the ground; into the darkness. Her voice was barely audible by now; she herself had to strain to understand her words, her thoughts. There was pain all over, a certain heaviness that started in her head, made its way to her heart, and then spread to the rest of her limbs.
At that, Rainbow was at loss. She didn’t know what to say. She wanted to say that she’d love her friend no matter what. That she’d stay by her side, the entire time… if only she’d stick around. Get it together, Dash. Rainbow grit her teeth. She would stay strong. She had to.
“That’s okay,” Rainbow began, speaking slowly. She hoped to Luna and back that Scootaloo would cling to a firm voice. “You’re gonna come with me tonight. We’ll get you cleaned up, and then you’ll sleep. Tomorrow we’ll make an easy day of it. But, for now, let’s focus on one day at a time. Yes?”
The younger’s eyes flowed with hurt. She was vaguely aware of Rainbow’s voice adapting a sharper edge, that edge of authority. It sliced through the fog. Just take it one day at a time. Her head pounded. Please help me. I need to feel better. The darkness was waiting, ready to take her into its loving grasp. She felt so empty, so gone, inside, as though all her old fire had been extinguished to ashes.
“Please, Dash,” Scootaloo mumbled. She ducked her head, resting it on her forehooves. It was all too complicated. First the results, then running, and now this debate. Light, dark? Dark, light? In the clearest part of her mind, admittedly the very back of it, Scootaloo knew her thoughts weren’t even. That she should wait until she had her head on straight again to make any decisions.
“Yeah. I’m right here. Okay? Right here, next to you,” Rainbow spoke, once again, slowly, and very deliberately, “And I’m going to stay that way. Right beside you, okay? I know it hurts. But you’ll be okay soon. Just let us help you.”
“Dash,” Scootaloo hiccupped, shivering slightly as a crisp wind breezed through their manes.
Rainbow lowered a warm wing onto Scootaloo again. “Stay with me, Squirt,” she whispered, “We all need you.”
Scootaloo bit back another shiver, instead letting it ripple through her insides. The cold was soothing; it helped clear some of the fog. But behind all of it, there was simply even more emptiness. There was nothing to think, nothing to feel, nothing to say. There was everything to think about, and everything to say and feel. She wants me here. Rainbow Dash wants me here. A small part of Scootaloo’s mind flashed.
“C’mon Scoots. Let’s go home…” Rainbow urged gently, oh-so-quietly. She nudged Scootaloo again, softly tightening her wing. Again, Scootaloo turned, ever so slightly. Eye met eye. And this time, Rainbow noted, she could see more uncertainty. She saw a lost pony, sad, and hurt beyond belief.
Rainbow lifted her chin, steadying her heart. She unfolded her front legs, then her hind. They were stiff; she had flown here, then lay without motion, but all the same, she stood up. She held out a cyan hoof.
Scootaloo stared at it, keeping still a few moments more. Then, with a final, exhausted glance at Rainbow, she too straightened her legs, and stood. Shakily. Her head hung low, as did her tail, but she had gotten up. There wasn’t any sort of ‘refilling’. There wasn’t any ‘igniting of flames’. No, there was the same emptiness as before -- perhaps even more of it. She’d be spending her life knowing her one, true dream would never become reality. She’d have to live knowing others judged her for it; knowing others would flaunt what they could do… but what she would never do. She was never going to fly, and that was that. It hurt; it hurt bad.
But she had gotten up.
Rainbow formed something of a half-smile, half-grimace. “That’s my girl.”
