Close Bonds: Chapter Fifteen

“Oh- Oh, fuck, that feels good…”

You slip into the shower, the steaming hot water rushing over your aching body. You wince as the heat first hits your cuts and bruises, but soon relax as the pain fades, giving way to a soothing feeling.

Reaching up, you search for a rather large gash above your eye. Your fingers graze it lightly.

“Ah! Dammit…”

A burning sensation flares up just under your brow, causing you to wince and jerk your hand away. The hot water continues to wash over you, alleviating the stinging enough to bring it down to a dull throb.

Damn, what did you get yourself into?

Faintly, the sound of the front door opening reaches your ears.

Let’s see if Rainbow has heard about what happened. The louder it slams-

WHAM!

Shit.

You sigh, letting your head hit the shower wall with a dull thud. You’re really not in the mood for this. Your whole body aches, you’re bleeding and sore in places that were never meant to be touched…

Locking the door probably would’ve been a good idea. Unless, of course, she decided to simply buck it down.

The bathroom door swings open, slamming against the wall. “Ivan?”

The shower curtains fly open. You roll your eyes in annoyance. “Can’t you see I’m taking a shower here, Dash?”

She flies up to head level. “What the hell happened? Is that a cut?”

You hiss when she touches the wound over your eye. “Yes, Dash, it is, and it hurts like hell when you poke it like that.”

She frowns. “Your whole eye’s swollen, too.”

“Are you gonna touch that, also? Besides, it’s my blind eye.”

Her face somehow twists into a mix of anger and concern as she asks, “What the fuck were you thinking?”

You try to avoid the question. “Let me ask a question first. How did you find me with such accuracy? You didn’t even bother to check any of the other rooms, just came straight here and-”

“You left blood on every doorknob you touched.”

“Oh.”

“Now, listen.” She leans in real close to your face, staring you in your one good eye interrogatively. “What. The fuck. Happened?”

You sigh, knowing that there’s no use lying to her. “I-”

“And don’t give me none of that ‘I tripped’ bullshit!”

“That’s- I wasn’t even gonna say that!” You cover your forehead with your palm, only to wince again when your fingers touch your cut. “Okay. I got into a fight.”

“A fight?” She asks sarcastically. “No shit. With who?
“Scootaloo’s dad. I think.”

This makes her jaw drop. She watches your face intently, searching for any hint that you’re lying, or maybe being sarcastic or something.

No bullshitting here, Dash.

“But- How do you know-”

“I was just on my way back from work, when I saw a stallion approaching Scootaloo and her friends,” you explain, “which included Applebloom, Sweetie Belle and two colts that I’ve never seen. Anyway, judging by the way he walked, I could tell something was wrong with him. The girls, Scootaloo in particular, looked a bit uncomfortable when they saw him. So, naturally, I walked on up, just to check and make sure everything was alright.” You shake your head, so engrossed in the memory that you almost forgot where you were.

“I’m guessing everything wasn’t alright,” Rainbow interjects.

You nod. “Yeah, because first thing that happened was I heard shouting. The stallion was saying something like, ‘You’re coming home with me, you have to do what I say because I’m your father’. Shit like that.

“When I got there, he was holding Scoots by the leg. I asked if everything was alright. He said, ‘Yeah, everything’s fine, the filly just needs to come home.’ When he turned to speak to me, I could tell he had spent more than one night on a park bench with a bong in his mouth, or what have you.

“I asked him what he was doing. He just repeated himself, saying ‘Just takin’ my daughter home. That a problem?’ When I looked at Scootaloo, she shook her head. She honestly looked scared to death.

“I said, ‘She doesn’t look too happy to be going home.’ He said, ‘Well, that’s none of your damn business now, is it?’ I asked him where he lived, and he tried to bullshit me by saying he lived in Ponyville. I asked him where in Ponyville, and he responded with, ‘Well, that ain’t none of your damn business, either.’

“I told him to let go. He tried to push past me, but I blocked him. ‘Fucking let go of her!’ I shouted. He hit me, and well, that’s when the fight broke out.”

“Damn.” Rainbow looks shocked. “What happened after that?”

“He… He was pretty strong for his size. And he knew how to fight. I probably would’ve gotten beaten to a pulp if I hadn’t had my knife on me.”

Her eyes widen. “You pulled a knife on him?”

“Yeah, didn’t stab him or nothin’ though. But it was enough to make him back off. Said I’d better watch my back, or something like that.” You spit at the running water below, not being surprised when blood comes out. “Fucker.”

Rainbow stares at the red in the bathtub, mixing with the clear water. “Celestia… Did you go to the hospital?”

You shake your head. “No, I had to walk all the foals home. Sweetie was the last stop, and she’s closer to our house than the hospital. I figured it would be better to clean my cuts as soon as possible.”

“You’re an idiot,” she mutters. “‘Clean your cuts’? You’re spitting blood!”

“I bit my cheek,” you say, reaching a finger into your mouth. When you pull it out, the tip of the appendage is a light red. “See?”

“How did you get that gash?” she asks, motioning to your eye.

“I got kicked in the face.”

“So you could have a concussion, then.”

You groan. “Stop worrying, Dash. Not everypony has as strong a kick as Applejack or Big Mac. Besides, both of us have gone through worse. Bar fights, remember?”

She frowns. “Still, though, that was pretty stupid.”

“Are you referring to then, or now?”

“Both.”

You can’t help but chuckle. “Alright, I’ll agree with you there. Still, I couldn’t have just stood back and let that happen to Scootaloo.”

“I know. You’re still stupid, though.” She smirks.

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I’m stupid. Now let me get back to my shower.” You shut the curtains, half-expecting them not to stay closed.

As you predict, they open. Rainbow’s standing there, looking slightly miffed. “Ivan, you know I’m in heat.”

“Oh. I didn’t know that.” The mentioning of her estrus always strikes a sour note in your head, probably from the memory of your first week with her. However, the very next month, her cycle passed without you even knowing. Something that you eventually learned, is that the most that really happens when she’s not being driven crazy by lust is she just gets extra frisky.

Like right now. She gets a little closer, placing her front hooves on the side of the tub. “You can’t expect me to stare at your naked body for fifteen minutes and not do something about it.”

You raise an eyebrow playfully. “Biologically, this shouldn’t be turning you on.”

She gets a smug look. “Then, biologically, this shouldn’t make you hard.” She turns around, so that her hindquarters are facing you. Then, she moves her tail slightly to the side.

Your eyes widen. “Touché.”

You have a kind of giddy feeling as you slip on your clothes. You have no idea how or why, but making love to Rainbow somehow relieved most, if not all of your aches and pains from the fight, and left you feeling quite refreshed.

You chuckle inwardly. The healing power of hanky-panky.

As you’re buttoning up your pants, you see a little blue pegasus wrapped in a towel approaching you. You give her a friendly smile.

“Hey, uh, thanks for that, Ivan,” she says. Her voice has a somewhat soft and apologetic tone. “I know it was kind of out of the blue, and you really didn’t seem like you wanted to do it at the time, but it gets kind of hard to control myself…”

You lean down and kiss her on the nose. “No worries. I’m not feeling drained or anything, since you let me off with a ‘one-and-done’.” She blushes, turning her head away in embarrassment. This makes you grin; you rarely get to see this side of Rainbow.

So, naturally, you lean down and hug her towel-enwrapped body. “You want a massage?”

She nuzzles you, a silent ‘yes’. You stand and cross the room to your bed, then pat the space beside you.

She jumps up onto the mattress with you, stretching out before lying on her belly with her legs tucked under her. Gingerly, you unwrap the towel from around her midsection.

Her wings flare out once exposed, flap a few times, and then neatly fold themselves against her sides. After seeing this, you have to admit; even the shortest displays of her aviary appendages are often very impressive.

She rests her chin on her foreleg, and then awaits your touch. More than happy to do so, you begin.

She moans as your fingers work their way around her shoulders, kneading firmly but gently. After a minute or so, you bring your hands to the area just below her forelegs, making sure to rub the sides of her barrel figure as well as her back.

“So,” she says, trying to avoid moaning so she can speak, “How did Scootaloo seem?”

You hum thoughtfully, your hands switching to autopilot as your mind goes out to the young pegasus. “You mean after the whole thing went down? Truthfully, she didn’t look too good.”

Rainbow sighs. “Why did he have to come here? She was doing so well, finally getting over everything…”

You raise an eyebrow. “I’ve been curious for awhile now. What is ‘everything’? I mentioned her parents once, and she got upset. And then, I learn that she’s living in an orphanage. To add to it, I keep getting little snippets from ponies who know her, but not enough to really draw any conclusions. What happened to her that’s so horrible?”

Your rainbow-maned companion turns her head to look at you. “You mean, you don’t know?” Upon seeing your headshake, she cocks her head. “Huh, I’m surprised she hasn’t told you by now. I thought you two were pretty close.”

“That’s what I thought.”

She looks out the window, seeming to be contemplating on something. “Well, I suppose I could tell you… But if Scootaloo hasn’t said anything yet, she might be keeping it hidden for a reason.”

This raises questions in your mind. “And why would she do that? Doesn’t she trust me?”

She shakes her head. “I really don’t know. She could be ashamed of it. Or maybe she’s just trying to forget.”

“Well, so much for that…”
“Maybe it would be a good idea for you to go check on her. She’s probably not feeling too good about this, and you always seem to know what to say when it comes to things like this, so…

You look out the window. The sky is turning pink, the sun nearing its destination behind the horizon. But it’s still light out, and if you’re worried about going outside and getting beat up again, you could take along a bigger weapon. Traveling ponies and visitors from other countries are often seen around town with weapons strapped to their sides, anyway. You don’t see why it would apply differently to you.

“Alright, I’ll go,” you proclaim, sliding off the bed. “You seen my hitting stick anywhere, Dash?”

You walk down Ponyville’s main road, armed with your ‘hitting stick’.

Basically, a metal leg you got off of one of the hospital beds being trashed. It certainly wasn’t an easy prize, and you’ve been proud to call it ‘yours’ ever since. Much to Dash’s dismay, it’s stored under the bed with all the other weapons.

Fortunately for you, you won’t need to use it today. You’ve arrived at the foals’ home in one piece.

You quickly toss the thing in the nearby bushes so that it’s hidden, but easy enough to find once you come back out. You step through the door, and then walk inside.

The place is not what most would imagine an orphanage to be like. In fact, the design is more reminiscent to a hospital, except for the multitude of hallways that you assume lead to different rooms.

“Oh! Hello, uh… Ma’am!” The pony at the front desk perks up as you approach.

You raise an eyebrow. “You mean sir.”
Upon hearing your voice and realizing her mistake, she blushes. “So, so, sorry, ma- sir! I just-”

“Don’t worry about it. It tends to happen. I’m gonna take a stab and guess you’re new here.” You hold out your hand. “Name’s Ivan.”

Hesitating at first, she places her hoof in your palm. When your fingers wrap around her blunt appendage, she tenses up, but manages to not pull away. “F-Flitter. And I’m actually from Cloudsdale, and come here often… But I’ve never seen you before.”

You release your grip and smile, being careful not to reveal your teeth. Realizing just how much you tower over the poor mare at full height, you kneel down and rest your elbows on the desk.

She genuinely returns your smile. “So, Mister Ivan… Is there any reason you stopped by today?”

You do your best to keep a cheerful composure. “Uh, yeah. Is Scootaloo still here?”

Her eyebrows rise at your question. “Yeah, she just came through here a little while ago... crying.” She gets a curious, slightly concerned, slightly suspicious look. “Why do you ask?”

“I just wanted to make sure she was okay. Can you check on her, please? And maybe ask if I can talk to her?”

The receptionist thinks over your request. “I’ll peek my head in the doorway,” she finally answers. “She had her face buried in her pillow thirty minutes ago though, so don’t expect any miracles.”

You suppose that’s the best you can ask for right now. “Alright. Thanks.”

The mare hops off of her chair, then crosses the portal into one of the aforementioned hallways. You wait a good two minutes before she returns.

She sits back down on her chair, sighs, and brushes some hair aside. “She doesn’t look too good. I don’t think she’ll want to see anyone.”

Dang. “Did you tell her Ivan was here?”

She gives you a look that has are-you-fucking-kidding-me written all over it.

“Right. Sorry.”

You rise to your feet, turn towards the door, and walk out, sticking your hand in the bushes to grab your hitting stick as you leave.

Halfway out the door, a familiar young voice hits your ears. “Wait.”

You turn, recognizing the small filly instantly. Scootaloo takes a firm stance in front of one of the hallway entrances.

“I want to talk to Ivan.”

Flitter takes on a worried look, but doesn’t interfere. “A-Alright then.” She takes note of Scootaloo’s decision to follow you out the door. “It’s past curfew, so stay on the premises.”

As the filly approaches, tear stains and dark rings under her eyes clearly mark what she’d been doing for the past hour. She draws nearer, soon stopping just in front of you. “Let’s go outside,” she says, her tone eerily flat. Discreetly, she nods back at the receptionist. “Where no one can hear us.”

You nod, holding the door open to let her through. She walks on ahead of you, a silent order for you to follow her.

She takes you around the yard, making precise twists and turns that lead you to believe that she’s either gone this route many times before, or just knows this place really well.

The two of you soon come to a tree in the middle of a grassy clearing. She sits down under it, and you do the same.

You sit in silence for a moment. The sun creates quite a glorious view as it sets, burning the sky pink and casting rays of lights through the clouds and into the heavens. It’s too bad neither of you can appreciate it.

Sighing, you turn to Scootaloo. “Listen, about earlier today…”

You stop. You really can’t think of what to say. Instead, you watch her stare at the ground, letting a liquid drop be absorbed by the grass.

“Why me?” she asks woefully, looking up at you. She wipes her eyes with a forehoof. “Why does everything bad happen to me? Why can’t I just be happy?”

The two of you share a long, meaningful look into each other’s eyes. She awaits an answer, her eyes glimmering as she tries to swallow back the lump in her throat.

You don’t reassure her, nor do you offer an answer you can’t give. Instead, you ask her the same. “Why can’t you be happy?”

Scootaloo blinks, somewhat surprised. “What?”

This time, your tone is a bit softer. “I can’t answer that. No one can really answer that question but you. So, tell me: why aren’t you happy?”

She thinks about it, as she herself doesn’t seem to know at first. But soon enough, you see her face contort in pain, as a ghost long left behind comes back to haunt her. Her mouth simply opens at first, no words able to form.

A lone tear runs down her cheek. You pat her on the back as she swallows a sob.

She continues to stare at the ground. “My mom died when I was seven. She got hit by a rolling cart.”

Damn.

Her voice chokes up as she tries her hardest to be strong. “It hurt me. It hurt all of us. But I think my dad took it the hardest. I- I really don’t know what happened to him.”

Tears once again flow freely from her eyes. You pull her into a hug, and she returns the embrace.

“What you saw… H-He never talked to me l-like that b-before,” she says shakily. “E-Even when he came home drunk… He was always n-nice to me. Tried to be. Even if he scared me sometimes.” A whimper escapes her throat. “I don’t know what happened. Earlier today… that wasn’t him. Not my dad.”

She pauses, trying to do her best to calm herself. She lets out a long, unsteady sigh, before continuing with her story.

“I got taken away from him. I was eight then. My sister tried to adopt me, but she wasn’t fit to raise me, either. So for months, maybe a year, I was switched from foal’s home to foal’s home, orphanage to orphanage… Nobody wanted me. And I didn’t want anyone either. Not unless they were my mom. Or my dad.” She chuckles darkly. “Ironic, isn’t it?”

You run a hand through her mane, thinking about all of this. She sniffles, still drying up a few wet marks that had come to be.

“I thought I could be happy… Thought I’d left all that behind. But the more I tried to ignore it, the more it ate away at me, until- until- I just can’t take it!”

She practically head-butts you as she buries her face in your chest. She sobs loudly, whimpering and trembling in irregular beats.

You caress the back of her neck lightly. “You’re a strong girl, Scoots.”

Her crying subsides, not completely but enough to acknowledge what you’re saying.

“You may think I can’t understand the pain you went through… Are going through. I do understand, though. I’m kind of in the same boat here.” You see her lift her head, eyes aglow with curiosity.

“I like to make it seem like finding my way here, to Equestria, was all milk and honey. I mean, I come from a war-torn, hate-filled, disease-infested world… But I still had to give up everything I had in that place; which included my family, friends… No one I really knew had died yet, at least not while I was there, but I still had to let go of everyone I loved.”

Your mind shoots back to the memory of the hatchet. You quickly brush that thought aside, in favor of returning to Scootaloo.

“Some say home is where the heart is. They’re absolutely right; but it may not be the way you, or anypony else interprets it. The heart, no matter where you go, is always with the ones who love you. Who you love.

“Not too long ago, I lost my home. As, apparently, did you. But sometimes you have to move on; start afresh. To build a new house, in the memories of your old one. For me, that took a little while to do; but over time, I learned the lesson I just taught you- Home is with the ones who love you.”

You smile. “So, welcome home, Scoots.”

She looks on the verge of crying again. You think your vision goes a little blurry as well. Or maybe it’s just your imagination.

The both of you hug it out, the cool evening air washing over you as the twilight fades and the stars begin to appear over the horizon.

Author's Note

Every time I think of that phrase 'welcome home', I think of this song. Not that it would really fit this story or anything, or this part in particular, but for the title mostly :P

Thanks go to hwrogers for editing, and being able to get to reading this chapter faster than I ever do for him. I do actually feel bad with how slow I am at editing his chapters, so go thank him for putting up with my crap. Seriously, do it.

And if any of you thought I was dead, I most certainly am not. It's just that I go to a year-round school, and this year instead of just taking honors courses I decided to go for an AP class. Yeah, I was a bit busy at first, but I believe I have a system down that will allow me to continue devoting precious hours to writing fanfiction.

Love ya guys. Sappy ends are always sappy.