It was warm.
So nice and warm and comfortable.
But there was something bothering him.
Something throbbing at the side of his face.
He wasn’t sure what it was, but it was ruining the pleasure of this wonderful location, wherever it was.
The echoes weren’t helping either and he felt an urge to ask them to be quite so he could enjoy this place, but that only made whatever was at the side of his face hurt more.
The haze that seemed to linger in this comfortable place started to lift and memories started to return.
He was Concorde Cayley.
He was one of the best Cloud Racers in Equestria and he’d just had a crash.
The haze lifted completely as Concorde regained consciousness. His whole body ached and his face throbbed, but he was at least glad he was definitely somewhere warm and comfortable.
He tried to muster the strength to open his eyes lids, which were being assaulted by light from an unknown source but they refused to budge. He let out an involuntary groan and became annoyed as what sounded like dull, sharp thuds assaulted his sensitive ears.
“Welcome back, Concorde.” Came what sounded like a friendly, reassuring voice from the side which echoed in his mind.
Concorde again attempted to muster the strength to open his eye lids and this time slowly forced them to open.
His eyes were assault by sunlight, but he could at least make out the silhouette of a unicorn, levitating some form of board in front of what he assumed was a mare, judging by the voice.
His mind was still slow, though it at least recognised the room he was in. The familiar, old fashion architecture of a private room in Whitbay General Hospital.
The place was more familiar then he’d like to admit, but he still had a single question. He tried to open his mouth to start saying the word ‘what’, but the right side of his face flared in searing pain. Pain he was vaguely familiar with.
“Don’t try and speak.” Said the mare, who he assumed was a doctor. “Your jaw was dislocated and fractured in your accident, though you’ve been out long enough for us to fix it.”
Accident!?
Concorde’s eyes opened wide as he searched his mind for details. What did he hit? How had he ended up hitting it? He looked at the doctor for answers and instantly recognised her.
She was his friend Maffett’s mother. Slim with a blue coat and white mane and tail, she wore orange framed glasses, a white doctor’s coat and a friendly, reassuring smile, something he always figured doctors learnt first in medical school.
Concorde tried to smile in return, but his face just flared in pain again, though now he was aware of the bandage around his jaw and the top of his head, he felt a need to itch his throat. While his body was sore, he was at least aware he didn’t have any other recently repaired bones and managed to raise his front right hoof to scratch at the bandages.
“You should consider yourself lucky, Concorde.” Mrs Maffett’s carried on “You flew head on into a stone wall. We were worried you had finally broken your neck this time.”
Concorde wanted to imply that was what he’d always wanted, but thought better of it so he could avoid more jaw pain. It always seemed strange to him that even after a bone was repaired with unicorn magic that it continued hurt like it was still broken.
At that moment the door to the room opened and Maffett herself came in. Like her mother, she had a blue body, but her long, curly mane and tail were almost bright orange. She also wore glasses, but with blue frames.
“Corde!” She almost squeaked before running over to the bed “How’d you feel?”
Again, Concorde wanted to drop a daft remark, but settled for giving her an expression that roughly translated as ‘what do you think?’
“I almost forgot you can’t talk right now. I think my dreams have come true.” Maffett smiled evilly, jabbing Concorde in the stomach. Concorde decided he wasn’t bothered by the pain and loosened the bandage around his head.
“You know I’m you’re very worst nightmare, Maff.” He smiled, being careful not to move his jaw too much, though it still hurt a lot.
“Not quite. My worst nightmare featured you and a legion of beavers who don’t seem to be here.”
“They’re on their way.” Concorde smiled before raising his hoof to the side of his face as it shot with pain again.
Mrs Maffett ignored them as she scanned her notes, largely used to their bizarre conversations and knowing Concorde’s jaw could take the rigor of conversation.
“What happened, anyway?” Concorde asked.
“Do you want a long or short answer?” Maffett smiled.
“Let’s start short so you don’t get distracted midway through.”
“Well simply put, Wolke pushed you into the grand stand.”
Concorde looked at her, the memory of something nudging his shoulder reappearing in his mind. Concorde knew Wolke wasn’t exactly against the idea of racing dirty, which was a moderate way of putting it, but he never would have thought Wolke would try and actually push a rival into a potentially dangerous crash.
“What did he have to say for himself?” Concorde asked, wondering if he’d left an indent on the grandstand.
“He was called to the clerk of the course after the race and said he didn’t realize you were alongside. He was given a formal warning but kept the win.” Maffett frowned, seemingly not believing Wolke’s explanation.
Concorde lay back for a moment. Even as a seasoned commentator, Concorde didn’t expect somepony watching to understand exactly what went through a racer’s head. Everything happened so fast it was difficult to judge what was going on sometimes.
While Concorde sympathised with Wolke’s situation, especially as he had run into Wolke a couple times before having not realized exactly where he was (heck, the only reason Wolke was ahead of him in the first place was because Concorde hadn’t realized exactly where Wolke was), but one single detail was still making him angry: Wolke had pushed him into a bucking stone wall.
“Any idea what happened to the cloud barrier around that grand stand?” He asked, the thought now crossing his mind.
“Mr Whiting was furious it hadn’t been fixed properly before the race. He called all the marshals into a meeting after the race and gave them hell from what I heard.”
Again, Concorde descended into thought. Admittedly, he wasn’t completely absolved from blame in the issue. He’d noticed the barriers were looking a little flimsy but he hadn’t made the officials aware.
He also shouldn’t really have been so close to the grand stand as officially it was outside the track limits. Most racing ponies, however, considered the outside edge of a corner’s limits to be quite flexible in most cases. There was only a pony width between the track and that grandstand, so the officials didn’t penalize racers for going outside the track limits at that point of the track.
“Still, it’s good to know you’re ok.” Maffett smiled.
“I knew you wouldn’t be able to go on without me.” Concorde grinned in response, waving his hoof dismissively.
“Of course! What would I do without my favourite punching bag?” Maffett said, jabbing Concorde in the stomach again.
“Celia, dear, stop that.” Mrs Maffett suddenly injected. Maffett’s expression was neutral as she simply said ‘yes mother’, but Concorde knew it always irritated her whenever someone called her by her first name, hence why he always knew her as ‘Maffett’.
“So you’re finally awake?” Came a new voice from the door.
Concorde looked up to see an older Earth pony who he knew was called Bristol walk in. His body was brown, his mane and tail were silver and he was wearing a green knitted vest over a white shirt with a red tie.
“Hi Dad.” Concorde said brightly.
“You really don’t like your bones, do you?” Bristol smiled as he walked over to the bed. He was covered in oil which even partially obscured his spanner and cog cutie mark, suggesting he was busy with another one of his ‘projects’.
“What gave it away?”
“Just a hunch. How are you feeling?”
“Well my face hurts, my body’s sore and Maffett’s annoying me,” He added, looking at Maffett innocently who just stuck her tongue out at him “But otherwise fine.” He finished, looking around, noting the suspicious lack of somepony shouting at him.
“I’d have thought you’d be driving him mad by this stage, Maffett?” Bristol asked the young mare.
“I’m working on it, sir!” She said cheerily before jabbing Concorde in the stomach again.
“Where’s mum?” Concorde asked, noticing his dad and Maffett’s mother exchanging quick glances “She busy writing a new lecture to give me on not trying to kill myself?”
“I think she’s busy being angry at how badly the Hydraulic Drinks Server went.” His dad said, rubbing his neck.
Bristol’s inventions were known for being overly complex and not particularly reliable. Thankfully, the Powered Gliders he made for a living didn’t share that trait.
Concorde was still occasionally surprised his mother put up with all these inventions going haywire, but the fact she wasn’t here still bothered him for a reason he couldn’t put his hoof on.