Sad voices.

        As Scootaloo came to she began to hear voices, some worried, most sad. She was awake now, but her eyelids felt like they had lead weights tied to them. Her head hurt so much, everything hurt. Mustering every ounce of willpower she possessed she forced her eyes open and let out a pained groan.

All noise in the room ceased at her stirring. She had to blink a few times to bring the room into focus, but eventually she recognized all the faces there. It seemed nearly all of her friends were in the room with her. But while she recognized the faces, she didn’t recognize the room. This begged the question-

“Where am I?” she wearily croaked.

“You’re in the Ponyville hospital.” she says, concern evident in her voice. “Do you remember what happened?”

Scootaloo shut her eyes and tried to think. She could hardly remember anything of the previous day. She shook her head.

“Nothing,” she mumbled.

Twilight paused briefly. “There was an accident.”

Scootaloo frowned. “An accident?” Scootaloo looked down at herself, shocked by what she saw. She was covered head to hoof in bandages and casts and tubes and wires were attached to nearly every uncovered patch of skin. A steady, rhythmic beeping sounded in the background.

Twilight looked around nervously, but Rainbow stepped up to relieve her.

“Yeah. You, Applebloom, Sweetie Belle, and Pip were playing-”

“Cutie Mark Crusaders Daredevils.” Scootaloo finished, closing her eyes. In a flash, the memories all returned.

        They’d built a ramp, Scootaloo had been aiming for a cutie mark in scooter jumps. It had been big, far too big, but she hadn’t thought it was big enough. She flew down the ramp, she had been about to rocket off the end, straight towards the mountain of pillows they’d constructed at her assumed landing zone. Something went wrong though, as she left the ramp her back wheel caught on something, an errant piece of wood, a misplaced nail, she wasn’t sure, but it had been enough to send her spinning out of control through the air. She was going to fall short of the landing zone. But Pip, the brave and selfless little thing he was, had tried to catch her. Then it all went black.

        Her eyes snapped open. “Where’s Pip? What happened to him? Is he okay?” she asked, weakly.

        All the assembled ponies looked away, directing their gazes at the floor, the ceiling, out the window, anywhere but in her direction.

        “Come on!” she insisted. “Where is he? He’s okay, isn’t he?”

        Twilight stepped up again. “When he saw you were in trouble, Pip tried to catch you. But... he... the scooter hit him full on.”

        Scootaloo’s eyes widened. At the speeds she’d been going... “But he’s okay now, right?” she asked, her voice cracking.

        “Scoots... “ Rainbow began, softly. “Pip... he didn’t make it. He passed away earlier this morning.”

        Her pupils shrank to pinpricks. “Pip... he didn’t... “ she couldn’t finish her sentence. Somepony said something else, but she didn’t hear it. Tears began to well up in her eyes, she couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. Pip, of all ponies, was dead? No, that was impossible.

        “But Pip can’t be dead!” she protested. “He didn’t even have his cutie mark yet!”

        She looked at each of the ponies, silently begging for verification. Each of them avoided her gaze. When she received none the tears finally began to flow in earnest.

        “I think it’s best you give her some privacy.” she heard Nurse Redheart say.

        The ponies said their goodbyes and filed out the door. She didn’t hear them, she didn’t notice them go. Only one thought occupied her grief-stricken mind: ‘I killed Pip.’

        The young colt had recently started hanging out with the trio, he’d even become a Cutie Mark Crusader himself. He had quite a thirst for adventure and all three of the fillies had taken an instant shine to him, especially Scootaloo.

        The thought only made her cry harder. She thought of the card hidden away back at the clubhouse she’d made for Hearts and Hooves Day, encased in a little pink envelope, sealed with a heart sticker. On the front it read simply: “For Pipsqueak, Love Scoots”

        Scootaloo cried until there were no more tears left. Once they were gone she just curled up in a ball and hiccupped, her thoughts never once straying from the little white and brown colt. Nurse Redheart came in with a glass of water that she left by Scootaloo’s bedside. Wordlessly, she turned to leave the room, but stopped when she heard a small voice.

        “What was that, dear?” she asked kindly.

        “Can you open the window?” Scootaloo hiccupped. “It’s really hot and stuffy in here.”

        Nurse Redheart smiled. “Of course, dear.” She trotted over to the window and pulled it open, letting the cool, refreshing night air fill the room. “If there’s anything else you need, please don’t hesitate to ask, sweetie.” she said as she left.

        Scootaloo hugged herself as best as she was able with the various medical instruments encasing her. Slowly, the emotionally exhausted filly began to succumb to the commands of her body and she began to drift off, lulled to sleep by the soft music of a fiddle that drifted in through the window.

---

        She dreamed of a field. An unseen fiddle played a merry tune to which countless ponies danced and sang, never seeming to tire or bore.

        Scootaloo stared at the scene in confusion, everything was so happy and bright and colorful, it was such a drastic change from the bleak sterility of the monochromatic hospital room. The mood was infectious and, despite her best attempts to remain wallowing in her melancholy, she began to slowly feel her spirits lift.

        She wanted to go and join the ponies in their revelries upon the green, but felt for some reason that it wouldn’t be right, like she didn’t fit in yet. Instead she chose to sit, content to watch the ponies. They all seemed so happy and she greatly enjoyed watching them, feeling buoyed by their limitless mirth.

        Soon, though, she noticed one pony who didn’t dance and sing with the others. He sat to the side and watched, as she did. But he didn’t seem to be happy like the others, she could see he longed to join them, but something held him back.

        The young colt looked familiar, and it wasn’t long before it came to her. The white coat, the brown splotches, it was him. Her breath caught in her throat as she stared at Pip, the ponies on the green wholly forgotten. He looked so sad, she wanted to go over and comfort him and was about to do so when a horrible thought crossed her mind. ‘What if he’s sad because I killed him? What if he doesn’t want to see me? What if he hates me?’

        She sat anchored to her spot, unable to bring herself to join Pip. So focused was she upon Pip that she jumped, startled, when a sad voice made itself known beside her.

        “I took him too early.” the voice lamented.

        Scootaloo turned to face the new arrival. She saw an elderly green earth pony stallion, his flank marked with the image of a fiddle.

        “Who are you?” she asked him. “Why aren’t you dancing with the other ponies?”

        The pony chuckled. “I do not dance with them. I would very much like to, but it would not be right. I only lead them here.”

        She felt sad for him, it wasn’t right that he had nopony to dance with. “I’ll dance with you.” she offered.
        
        The elderly stallion laughed warmly at her words. “That’s very generous of you, but there is another who waits for you to be their partner.”

        Scootaloo looked back to Pipsqueak, sitting alone and watching the dancing ponies. “He doesn’t wanna dance with me. He hates me.”

        The old pony turned to look at her. “And why would that be?” he asked.

        “Because I killed him.” she whispered, hanging her head.

        The old earth pony shook his head, sadly. “No, I took him too early.”

        Scootaloo looked up at him in confusion. He looked down at her, putting a hoof to his chin in thought. “Would you mind if I take you?” he asked.

---

Scootaloo awoke to the blinding white and pungent sterility of the hospital room once more, feeling weaker than she had the previous day. Her dream of the fiddle and the dancing ponies still filled her mind. She remembered it so well that she still heard the music in her head.

She furrowed her brow. No, it wasn’t in her head. She turned her head towards the window and realized the music came from somewhere outside. It was like the music from her dream, but sadder. She’d never thought notes so sad could come from an instrument so happy.

She ate her breakfast, just barely, though, the hospital food was just as bad as everypony said it was. For the majority of the day she just lay in bed staring up at the ceiling, thinking about her dream. The strange old pony, but most of all, Pip. He’d looked so sad, she wondered if that’s how he’d felt before he died. Thankfully she didn’t have to think on it much longer, her thoughts were interrupted when Applebloom and Sweetie Belle came to visit her.

Applebloom placed a bouquet on her night stand. “Me ‘n Sweetie Belle got ya a ‘get well’ present. Ya like it?” she asked.

Scootaloo took the bouquet with a smile that was only slightly forced. “Thanks guys, you have no idea how bad the food is here.” she said with forced levity. She took a grateful bite of the roses.

“You guys are the best.” she said. They smiled at her and she smiled back. The silence carried on for too long though, and it became tense as they all searched for a way to ask the question on all their minds.

Eventually Scootaloo decided to finally pay some attention to the elephant in the room and ask the question. “So... did you guys hear about Pip?”

The fillies eyes became downcast at the mention of their mutual friend. “Yeah...” Sweetie Belle said.

“I’m so sorry,” Scootaloo said, eyes filling with tears. “I didn’t... I didn’t mean t-to k-k-kill him.” Her voice was no louder than a whisper by the end.

“You didn’t kill him!” Sweetie Belle exclaimed. “What makes you think it’s your fault?”

“Cutie Mark Crusaders Daredevils was my idea.” she said, glumly. “And it was my scooter that killed him. It’s my fault.”

“It wasn’t yer fault!” Applebloom said. “Any one of us coulda said no but we didn’t. We’re both guilty too.”

Scootaloo was silent, unsure of what to say. She was just glad they didn’t blame her too. “Do you think he hates me?” she whispered.

“No way.” Sweetie Belle said instantly. “He could never be mad at you. I’m sure, wherever he is, he doesn’t blame you for it.”

Scootaloo lied back down and listened to the fiddle that hadn’t stopped playing. “I really hope he doesn’t.” she said, sadly. “I just wanna tell him how sorry I am. I miss him so much.”

“We all do, Scoots.” Applebloom said.

---

        She dreamed of the green again. The ponies still danced, the fiddle still played. Still Pip sat and watched. She felt so terrible, but she still couldn’t bring herself to speak with him, she was so scared of him hating her.

        The old pony still sat by her side, keeping her company and watching the ponies dance. They sat by a small lake, out of morbid curiosity she looked into it to see her reflection. She grimaced at what she saw. Her face was pale, her body smashed, any beauty she could have once claimed was long gone, at least to her eyes anyways.

        “Isn’t it a shame?” the old pony remarked. She looked to him and saw him regarding her sadly.

        “What is?” she asked.

        “You were so young.” he said. “You had so much to look forward to.” He turned his gaze back to Pip. “You would have grown old together. It would have been a happy life.” He sighed heavily.

        She followed his gaze, looking back at the sad little colt staring longingly at the ponies on the green.

        “He is quite alone here,” the fiddler said. “and still waiting for you.”

        Scootaloo shook her head. “He hates me, I know it. I mean why wouldn’t he? I killed him!”

        “He waits for you.” he insisted. “You were meant to be together in life. And you would have been, if not for my mistake. I’m so sorry.”

        “You don’t have to be sorry.” Scootaloo said. “Everypony makes mistakes. Even... even me. I made a big mistake.” The old pony shook his head at her words.

        “Oh, I really did fail for the first time.” spoke the poor old fiddler. “But if you can forgive me my mistakes, who’s to say he can’t forgive you yours?”

        Scootaloo looked back at the green thoughtfully. The two sat in silence for a long while, content to watch the revelries of the ponies.

---

        Scootaloo felt even weaker than before. She knew why, nopony needed to tell her. The concerned looks, the hushed voices, but most of all it was the pity in their eyes that gave it away. Even the day itself felt strange, different, wrong somehow. Her friends came to visit, one by one, their words friendly, amicable, yet contained the tone of a hidden goodbye.

        She wasn’t sad, she didn’t cry, her tears were long ago spent crying for Pip. Instead she felt only calm acceptance. She managed to keep a smile up all day, it didn’t falter once, nor did she have to fake it. She was genuinely happy to see each of them. Finally Applebloom and Sweetie Belle came to see her, they were the last.

        “Hey Scoots.” Applebloom greeted her. “Are ya feelin’ any better?” She knew the answer, they all already did.

        “A lot, actually.” It wasn’t a lie. “I don’t feel like he hates me anymore.”

        The two fillies smiled. “Maybe you can get a cutie mark in pointing out stuff we already know.” Sweetie Belle teased. “Pip could never hate you, we told you that.”

        Scootaloo leaned back on her pillows. “Yeah, I guess it just didn’t sink in till now.”

        The three fillies laughed and talked the day away, Scootaloo feeling like she’d finally come to terms with everything. She’d made a mistake, but she didn’t have to wallow in it. She could only apologize and hope for the best.

        Sweetie Belle and Applebloom eventually said their goodbyes, an eerie air of finality about it, eyes glistening with unshed tears. It was then that Scootaloo finally gave in to the demands of her body once again, laying back on her bed and snuggling into her pillow. Before she felt unconsciousness overtake her she realized why the day had felt so strange.

The fiddle had stopped playing.

---

She sat with the fiddler once again, next to the lake, just on the edge of the revelries. It was a comfortable silence, but she was the one to end it this time.

“I think I’m ready.” she said.

She felt the gaze of the fiddler on her as he turned to regard her. “I want to go join him.”

“It would be nice, I think.” he replied. He stood up on ancient legs and walked forward a few paces. He then turned around and offered his hoof to her.

“I will take you there.” the reaper said. “Your pain will go away.”

Scootaloo took his hoof and walked with him out onto the green and up behind the forlorn looking colt. Scootaloo tapped him on the shoulder and he turned, face lighting up with recognition and joy as he saw her.

“May I have this dance?” she asked.