Spellbound Fireflies (31 page)

I forgot, Scootaloo.  Now, I can’t believe that I did, but I did.  I missed how long it had been, how long you’d been in my house, not as a foal passing through, but as a growing mare: somepony figuring out her place in the world and needing help and guidance to get there.  For so long, I was never a mother to you, just a guardian, a name on a piece of paper to make sure you were looked after.  I forgot that sometimes I needed to be more than that, and that as you got older what you needed wasn’t a guardian.  You needed a mom.  I could have been that for you if I noticed, but by the time I did, I think I was already too late.  I had already hurt you.

I didn’t know what to say.  I still don’t, not really, but maybe writing it down will get it out right.  I don’t know how to express the idea that I had been blind to you, to who you are when you were right in front of me, hurting and looking for somepony to be there.  I failed you, Scootaloo.  I failed you, and I was too much of a coward to try and fix it in time.

It’s a downfall of all ponies who have gotten too old to really remember what it’s like to be twelve, to be growing into yourself, to have just found your cutie mark or still be looking for it.  Time.  Time bleeds away, and you don’t notice.  I didn’t notice it going as you changed from a foal I was watching to a foal who needed me to be a mom, and I couldn’t hold onto it as I tried to think of how to tell you I was sorry.

I am sorry, Scootaloo.  I’m sorry for what I’ve missed.  What I could have been for you, and what I could have given you, if I only took the time to see it.

I won’t ask your forgiveness, because I don’t deserve it.  I’m a silly old coward who hurt a beautiful, wonderful little filly, who is going to grow into a beautiful, wonderful mare and do great things with her life.  I only hope that you understand.

If you ever want to talk, I’ll be here to listen.  I spent too long not listening, and I’ll listen to whatever you have to say.  I know I’ve missed the chance to be a mom to you, but if you want, I will be a friend.

Your friend,

—Care

Scootaloo quietly folded the letter up, sliding it back inside the envelope.  She let it drop to her lap and stared at it silently.

Sweetie Belle hugged her fillyfriend around the middle, nuzzling Scootaloo’s shoulder.  “You okay?”

“…Yeah,” she answered quietly, hugging back.

“What’re you gonna do?”

“…I don’t know.”

They sat together, wrapped in each other’s hooves, letting the minutes draw out.  Scootaloo closed her eyes and buried her face in Sweetie’s mane, smelling vanilla, trying to wash away her jumbled thoughts.  She found herself gently kissing the top of Sweetie’s head, stroking the filly’s shoulders and back, drawing peace from the contact.  Her mind gradually silenced.  “…I’m still angry at her,” she whispered, “But I think maybe I don’t haveta be.  I think maybe I can stop.”

Sweetie nodded into Scootaloo’s neck and strengthened her grip.  Scootaloo heard a small sniffle from Sweetie and her brow furrowed.  “You okay?”  Sweetie Belle nodded too quickly.  “What’s wrong?”

Sighing, the little unicorn sat back, the parting slow and reluctant.  “I just…I got kinda caught up in being held by you.”

Scootaloo raised an eyebrow.

She sighed again and kicked her hindlegs off the edge of the bed, staring down at the floor.  “…We’ve been…
dating
for about four months now, right?”

Scootaloo turned, pressing her side into Sweetie and slinging a leg around her fillyfriend’s shoulder.  “Yeah.”

“…That’s about as long as AB an’ Rumble lasted.  Is…how much longer ‘til this goes away?  Everypony keeps sayin’ we’re still just kids…I don’t want this to go away, Scoots.”

A quiet fell over the room as they sat together.  Scootaloo gently turned to Sweetie Belle and raised her chin with a hoof.  She closed her eyes and kissed the unicorn, the growing filly, the young mare, the pony on the cusp right alongside her, delicately soft, but strong and centered just beneath the surface.  She pressed her forehead to Sweetie’s and opened her eyes.  “Every time,” she murmured, “Every time I kiss you it feels just like the first one.”

“…What is this, Scoots?”

“...I’m still tryin’ to figure it out.”  She kissed Sweetie Belle again.  “I could spend the rest of my life tryin’ to figure it out.”

Sweetie Belle smiled, a small and contented smile, and hugged her fillyfriend.  For a long and peaceful while, they held each other and ignored the world.  Eventually they parted and silently stood.

Cantering out of Scootaloo’s room, they ventured downstairs and joined Twilight and Rainbow Dash sitting with their sides pressed together next to the flickering fire.  “Need to talk?” Rainbow asked, glancing up from the Daring Do book propped open in her lap.  Scootaloo shook her head, sitting down and leaning into Twilight’s side.  Sweetie Belle snuggled into her shoulder.

They sipped their cocoa as Rainbow smirked dramatically.  “Well then.  Onto Daring Do.”

As she spoke, her energetic voice bringing excitement and power to the narrative, Scootaloo sat half transported to crumbling castles and fearsome dangers, and half rooted in the present.  Despite Rainbow’s usual flair of recitation, she felt Sweetie’s breath slowly even out against her neck.  She turned gently and watched her fillyfriend sleep against her.

Scootaloo’s eyes slowly trailed over the warm and familiar room, surrounded by the three most important ponies in her life.  Mrs. Taker was right.  Time was a funny thing.  In less than a year, everything had been inescapably changed.

Twilight absentmindedly stroked Scootaloo’s mane with a hoof and the filly pressed more strongly into her mother, letting her gaze drift higher to the mantle.  She stared at the portrait on the wall, grinning, lost in Rainbow’s words and her own thoughts, nestled into a warm body with a warm body nestled into her.  Her gaze lingered on the portrait as her eyelids grew heavier and her mind gradually faded towards sleep.

Everything had changed forever, and Scootaloo couldn’t wait to see what the future could bring.  But for the moment, not for the first time and not for the last time, she felt it.

At long, long last, Scootaloo was finally
home
.

(Image by
Lostzilla
, used with permission)