The first thing Beige recognized was a pounding in her ears, accompanied by a constant, dull ache. She groaned and tried to rub her head, but instead touched gauze.
Her – bed? Soft surface. Cool covers, light and thin. Yes, she was on a bed – shifted. Something bumped against her shoulder. And again.
“Honey?”
Beige peeled one eye open. She saw her little Pipette, standing on the bed and bumping her with the side of her head. Orange eyes brightened when they met Beige’s from under that blonde mane. Pipette started to approach her face, a beaming smile on her lips, when she was caught up in a soft blue glow.
“Muma!” She flailed her hind legs and reached for her mother, but Crunchy Chip caught her up in his forehooves. He was a tall but lanky stallion, his mane a light brown and his coat purple.
“Now hold on, Little Piper,” he whispered, hugging their squirming daughter to his chest. “Give Mommy some time.” His relieved smile filled Beige with warmth. “How are you feeling, hon?”
For all of a second, she considered the truth. Instead she gave what she hoped was a confident smile. “I’ve been through worse.”
The corners of his mouth twitched upwards and he raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been through worse than flying full-speed into a tree trunk?”
“Sure I have.” She winced as the pounding behind her eyes intensified for a few seconds. As the pain faded, she sighed and closed her eye. “Can’t think of anything right now, but I’m sure that’s just because that tree attacked me.”
“Muma!”
That voice made Beige’s chest swell. She reached for the it and opened her eyes. “Come to Mommy, little… whoa.”
She squeezed her eyes shut once more, rubbing them with both hooves as the drumbeat intensified. It couldn’t be…
“BB?”
But it had. She’d seen it. Suddenly, the last waking moments before her crash came back: the loss of balance, the terrible dividing of the world, the panicked fall.
“Muma!”
“Hold on, Pipette. Beige, what’s wrong?”
She didn’t want to look. Looking would prove it was real. Despite the mounting tension in her gut, Beige gradually cracked one eye open. She tried to look directly at Chip. His frightened face drifted in her vision, as if the world refused to stay in place for her.
It took several seconds of silent self-encouragement to get her to crack open the other eye. It was aimed in a completely different direction, the wall just above the window being its focal point. Both views drifted about in seemingly random directions, neither going in the way she demanded.
Her ear, the one not covered in bandages, folded back as she whimpered. “M-my… What’s wrong with my eyes?”
On the edge of her left-side vision, she could see the loose jaw of Chip and his wide eyes. “Sweet Celestia. They’re… Well, they’re looking two directions. Like… y’know, like a chameleon.”
The knot in Beige’s chest tightened. She pressed both forehooves over her eyes and groaned. “This is so weird. I can’t stop it.”
“W-well,” Chip ventured, “maybe the crash caused it? I mean, the doctor said you hit your head pretty hard.”
“No.” She shook her head and felt her entire body tilting to the right from the motion. With a yelp, she tried to rebalance – and promptly fell on her left side. She blinked, letting her vision drift around as she took in this fall. Was her balance still wonky?
“Beige?”
Slowly, her hooves moving with great caution, she pulled herself upright. “I’m okay. Balance is off. But Chip… the accident didn’t cause this. This caused the accident.”
She could barely see his head tilt to the side. Her view focused instead on little Pipette, who was watching her with big, curious eyes. She giggled at her mother as the view shifted to a new angle.
“What do you mean?” Chip asked, shifting to improve his hold on their daughter.
“I mean when I crashed. I was flying just like normal, coming home from the school, and then?” She raised her forehooves to point at her eyes. She could see a horseshoe in her left field of vision, while the other eye decided the bedsheets were interesting. “The world went crazy and took my balance with it. This is what caused the crash, not the other way around.”
“Oh. That’s… uh…”
“Muma?”
“Oh, Pipette. Come here, you little cutie.” Beige reached out, and Chip carefully deposited the filly into her hooves. Pipette wasted no time snuggling up in the crook of her mother’s neck, humming happily. Slowly, dreading what might happen if her balance tipped again, Beige lowered herself back onto the pillow. “Did Mommy worry you? I’m sorry. I’m here now.”
Chip smiled warmly as he watched them. “She knew something was wrong when you were late from work. Wouldn’t calm down until she saw your face.”
Beige rubbed Pipette’s back and rested her cheek on her head, careful to avoid the tiny horn. “I’ll have to make it up to her later.”
Silence crept between them, and she finally took the opportunity to examine her surroundings. Or rather, examine them as well as she could with two eyes that refused to go where she wanted them to. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t focus on what she was seeing in both eyes at once. After a few seconds she determined that the hospital room offered little of interest, anyway: a couple cabinets, a sink, and a door to a bathroom, all illuminated by the sunlight coming in from a small, half-open window. Everything in either white or grey, and all of it boring.
After a time, Chip broke the silence. “Would you like me to get a nurse? Have them look at your eyes?”
The question poked at her heart like a hot needle. Her ear folded back once more and she turned her head from him. What would they say? She tried to think of something to tell them, to help them determine a cause. They might try to blame her studies, but that couldn’t possibly be the source. Yet something had happened, and she couldn’t imagine what.
Oh, Celestia, what if this was permanent? How would she take Pipette flying? Could she even do her job? She couldn’t lump all their bills on Chip! She began to choke, her chest heaving. She closed her eyes and tried to slow her breathing. Don’t panic. Panicking wouldn’t help.
“Hey, it’s going to be okay.” Chip rested his hoof on her shoulder. “BB? Calm down. I’m sure the doctor will have this cleared up in no time.”
He was right. He had to be. Opening her eyes, she turned her head towards him, ready to show her positive outlook. The attempt died on her lips when she found herself unable to look at him. She knew her face pointed right at his, but he wasn’t even in the peripherals of her vision.
She sagged and nuzzled his hoof, trying to ignore the uncertainty nibbling at her insides. “Of course. I’ll try. It’s just a few days, right?”
‘A few days’ seemed like so long ago. Beige stood by the kitchen window, her head tilted at an angle so her left eye could gaze at the yard and the busy street just beyond. Early afternoon, and she was still cooped up at home. Her condition had mystified the doctors as much as it had her. For all their theories and proposals and ideas, it was ultimately determined that Beige suffered from some malady unknown to modern medicine.
So now she stayed at home on medical leave, struggling to relearn how to use her body. She had an appointment in another few days for some medical and magical tests, but at the moment the best prescription she could get was along the lines of ‘rest up and hope it gets better.’
She heaved a sigh and bit the handle of a basket on the counter. The warmth of the muffins she’d just finished baking felt good on her throat. With gradual, cautious steps and wings spread as a precaution, she walked her way to the door. She emerged in the living room, where Chip was setting Pipette down on their couch. A proud smile graced his lips as he looked upon Beige. Every time she saw that smile, she felt a little lighter.
“Hey, you made it,” he said, gently taking the basket from her with his magic. He eyed the muffins curiously. “You know, I still can’t believe you just learned how to make these.” He took a bite from one and his eyes rolled back in his head. “Goddesses, BB, you’ve been holding out on me.”
“Pappa?”
Chip obediently lowered a quarter of a muffin down to Pipette, who seized the baked good greedily. “See, even Pipette likes your cooking now.”
Beige sighed and raised her hoof. It took her a few tries to find it in her ever-moving field of vision, but once she did she stared at. “I just don’t understand. I can barely wa—whoa.” She swayed wildly, leg and wings flailing. Only her husband’s magical push kept her from toppling to the floor. Once the wave of imbalance passed and she’d planted all four hooves on the floor, she continued, “I can hardly stand by myself, and yet when I got the urge to make muffins, it was like my body knew exactly what to do. It makes no sense at all.”
She pouted and lowered her head. “I’ve never even touched an oven before yesterday. I came up with that recipe out of my head. How did I do that, Chip?”
“Maybe you saw the recipe once and just forgot,” he said, his tone dismissive. Neither it nor his words did anything to ease the uncertainty drifting through her head. Miraculously able to cook muffins, barely able to walk across the room, never able to focus on any one thing. It was like the world actively worked to keep her confused and disoriented. More and more, her body felt like it was under the control of some nameless enemy.
“You ready to give it another go?”
She looked up, cocking her head left until she could get Chip into her line of sight. He stood by their front door now, watching her with an encouraging smile. Maybe if she focused on that smile, she could regain some of her confidence. She eyed her hooves with a small frown.
“You can do it, honey.”
Could she? She’d made it here from the kitchen, but that had only been a few steps. She sucked in a deep breath, raised her head and began clearing her mind. Her head steadily moving with the view of her right eye, she kept Chip the focus of her attention. Carefully, she took a step. Then another.
“So far so good,” she whispered. Another step. Chip’s smile grew as she came closer. “It’s just one step… at a time…”
The shift hit, sudden and alarming. Beige felt herself leaning precariously, this time to her left. She focused with all she had to regain control, her body twisting steadily in the opposite direction to counteract the loss of balance.
“Honey, honey, you’re about to—”
“Hush.” She ground her teeth behind peeled-back lips. Her wings wobbled precariously as her vision – visions – swam wildly. Right… right… no, left!
Too late, Beige realized that she wasn’t really off balance, her screwed-up brain just made it seem that way. She hit the ground on her side, wincing with the pain of the impact. She’d barely managed to tuck her wing in and keep it from getting caught at a bad angle.
Her body hadn’t been the only thing to fall. She lay on the floor, listless, every inch of her feeling heavier than she’d ever remembered. And why not? One more thing that might go wrong with her body.
She could hear Chip saying something, but the meaning behind his words was lost. Too many thoughts vied for her attention. Too many voices telling her to just stay down and accept that she’d never be able to walk on her own again. She’d be a cripple for the rest of her life, relying on her husband for everything, unable to go anywhere without somepony to lean against. Would Chip have to devote the rest of his life caring for her? And when she got older, Pipette might abandon her future to stick by her poor, needy invalid of a mother.
Would Pipette resent her? Maybe not. She didn’t have to. Beige resented herself enough already. But she wouldn’t blame her daughter if she abandoned her in some crummy nursing home to go live her own life. There was nothing wrong with that. Nothing at all. She’d just sit by the window, unable to go anywhere, longing to be able to move, hating her stupid body and her crazy eyes and… and…
Something bumped her. She ignored it. Better to wallow in—
Another bump. Why was Chip even trying? She hadn’t been able to walk on her own in—
Something poked her in the belly, making her flinch. It happened again before she could get her head together, and this time she gave a tiny ‘eep’.
“Up!”
She winced at another poke and looked down. Pipette gave her a curious look before jabbing her tiny horn into Beige’s stomach. “Up. Muma up.”
Chip appeared overhead, wearing a warm smile. “That’s right, Little Piper, you tell her. No lollygagging when you’re around.”
“Up. Up!”
No amount of wallowing could make Beige ignore that pillar of cuteness, regardless of how tempting it might be. She grinned and caught Pipette in a tight hug. A fresh warmth filled that pit in her belly as she snuggled the foal.
“I’m sorry, Little Piper,” she whispered, burying her muzzle in Pipette’s blonde mane. “Mommy’s getting up, I promise.”
“Up!” There was a distinct glee in Pipette’s voice as she cuddled against her mother. “Muma up. Muffins.”
Whatever remnants of despondency Beige had washed away as she laughed and kissed Pipette’s forehead. “Muffins. Gotcha. Honey?”
Chip took Pipette away, holding her in his forelegs as he sat back and watched. Slowly, moving one hoof at a time, Beige repositioned herself until she was on her barrel. With one eye drifting over her family, she gave them a smile she hoped was more confident than she felt.
Then she waited.
Seconds ticked by. She closed her eyes to get rid of the distraction of a divided world. The balance within her shifted in small ways, and she practiced ignoring it. Her brain was a traitorous liar. Her lifetime of instincts had to be unlearned. She wasn’t about to force Crunchy Chip and Pipette to tend to her like some invalid, no. She was going to beat this.
At last, the world seemed steady enough. Sucking in a deep breath, then another, she finally applied pressure through her legs. Gradually, cautiously, she brought herself back to a standing position. Pipette’s cry of delight brought a smile to her lips and the swelling back to her chest. Swishing her tail, she opened her eyes.
The ceiling fan on her left and the coffee table on her right. She closed her left eye so she could center her attention on just the coffee table. With no small amount of concentration, she managed to force that eye to shift. At last, the couch came properly into view.
“You can do it, BB,” Chip called, then added an encouraging, “Can’t she, huh, can’t she?”
“Muma!” Pipette cried, punctuating the ‘word’ with a giggle.
Oh, if only they knew how appreciative Beige was. With one last, deep breath, she began to move. One step. Two. Her balance tilted left; she ground her teeth together and reminded herself over and over again: don’t fight it, don’t fight it, don’t fight it…
Another step. She was veering right. She paused, breathing through her nose as she focused on absolutely not leaning right. Her legs wobbled. The shift in balance eased. Once sure she could move, she started walking again.
At long last, she reached the couch. Her sense of balance behaved itself… for the time being. But Beige knew that the coming step would be the hardest. She raised one leg, hesitantly setting it upon the cushion. With great care, she shifted her weight and let her other forehoof join it. She paused, sucking in long breaths. Through force of will, she brought her right eye up to focus on the armrest. Her body was trying to lean backwards now.
Chip walked around to the back of the couch, letting Pipette stand on the backrest but holding her still with his magic. “That’s right, BB. Come on, a little more.”
Beige kept her eye set on the armrest, but her attention was on Pipette, who watched her with wide, hopeful eyes. She smiled and asked, “Up?”
Pipette leaned forward so far that only Chip’s magic kept her from tumbling off the couch. “Up.” Her small face was so endearingly serious.
“Alright. Up.” One more deep breath. Her balance was righting itself again…
With a light kick, Beige climbed onto the couch. She swayed and wobbled dangerously, struggling to not obey her body’s desire to fight her balance. She ended up falling forward, chin smacking on the armrest and sending a jolt through her teeth.
But she was on the couch. Awkwardly, but on it nonetheless. She counted her blessings even as she rubbed her sore chin. “I think we need softer cushions.”
“Muma!”
A small weight dropped onto Beige’s back just behind the wings, knocking the air out of her. She gasped, wings and legs flailing, as the little pony trotted over her backside and buried her muzzle in Beige’s mane. Chip was laughing, curse him!
“You…” she wheezed, “did that… on purpose.”
“Maybe.” He knelt down and kissed her on the muzzle. “No amount of magic can keep a filly from congratulating her mother.”
“Muma!”
She wanted to scowl at him, but Pipette’s squirming on her back betrayed the thought, and she grinned instead. She’d made it on her own. Clumsily, slowly, but she’d made it. Any progress was better than no progress.
Never would she allow herself to be a burden on her family.