With These Wings

by xara


Confrontation

Rainbow Dash laid upon a waiting room couch at the hospital and slept uneasily. Somepony had brought out a cream-colored blanket and covered the pony's flank. She snored a bit, as was typical for her, mouth opening wide and coming shut to blow out the air. Little did she know the rhythm of her inhalations and exhalations had synced with the old clock nearby.

She dreamed, though she would not remember the details when she awoke. She was flying. The wind was cold, bitterly so, a chill that struck down into flesh and bone, deep beyond what pegasi normally felt. Even the lofty heights of Cloudsdale were normally cozy. She was far above in the sky; below, all the land of Equestria spilled out, a blurry mix of green, blue, brown, and a thousand other colors. She thought she saw tiny forms dotting the landscape, but knew that could not be. She raised her eyes, and saw an inky blackness above her, broken by soft points of light that seemed to spin as she soared.

She felt slow, and longed for dizzying speed, though the chill felt as if it would sap every last bit of energy from her aching muscles. Hooves aimed ahead of her, she flapped her wings, struggling against the thinned air. Below her, Equestria shimmered and rolled past; she was flying past strange lands, unfamiliar terrain. Mountains and oceans and long, rolling fields of grass passed by in seconds. She felt a familiar power growing; a sort of shimmer, and she started a rainboom, adding a colored trail to her wake.

A growing sense of dampness joined the sensations. The sky, previously clear, had started to coalesce into grayish, immense clouds. The world below began to look fuzzy, and the stars above became hard to discern. She pushed on, racing her sensations, showing the whole world her rainbow, but the clouds deepened. Soon, everything had become gray. She could no longer see above, or below, or more than a few feet ahead. So incredibly high in the sky, a gnawing fear that ahead, perhaps in less than a second's time, would be the biggest mountain there ever could be, a mountaintop from which the idea of all lesser structures were merely pitiful tributes. She did not slow; she sped.

Faster, faster. It felt like swimming, droplets of rainwater splashing against her coat, then enveloping it completely. Every inch she passed loomed terribly. Had she felt that there was danger ahead? Impossible. Ahead lay the only safety - the danger was behind, a gnawing, loathsome enemy that wanted to catch her, break her, and leave her ruined form in terrible wrath on some forsaken land. She could outrun it. She was the best.

Even the gray started to fade. Her body had lost all feeling. Neither the wetness nor the cold existed anymore. Blackness rose all around. Had she been flying? No, she was floating. She was not circling the Earth she knew, but lost in pitch blackness, crying out. Eyes open or shut, she could not see. She could not hear, or feel. Only a salty taste on her dried tongue and a faint, metallic smell gave any indication she lived.

It might have been minutes or hours later, for all she knew, but she felt a soft tapping on her shoulder which roused her from the disturbing dream. She opened her eyes, the lids each feeling like a pound of weight. The Doctor, his light blue uniform missing and glasses fallen downward on his nose again, looked down at her. She licked her lips, trying to bring saliva around her dried-out mouth, and swallowed. She gazed at him, not speaking.

"It's done," he said simply. "No other complications." He looked impossibly tired, perhaps sad, but appeared to draw on a reserve of strength. "She's sleeping now, rather than passed out. We put a cot in there, next to the bed. If you want. Ms. Weaving said you're to visit as much as you want." That seemed to be all he intended to say.

Dash just nodded. She wanted to add more, but any form of thanks didn't seem necessary, at least not just yet, and the nightmare had drained her of any effort to communicate. She stood, lowering herself from the couch to the floor, but noticed a couple items at the other end of the seat.

Daring Do and the Quest for the Sapphire Stone. First edition, and rather dog-eared. An apple, a little small, and somewhat pale red rather than the full crispness that time would bring, but it looked like a heavenly treat. Her stomach reacted at the sight, growling its desire. She didn't know when she had last eaten. She couldn't make out the hands on the clock; everything more than a few feet away seemed to shimmer.

The Doctor drew one more breath. "Room 3." he said, and walked away. Going home, perhaps, or to his office. A nurse was still at the front desk. The same one, or not? With their white hats and clothing, they all looked the same, and it didn't matter anyway. Dash chewed through the apple in a few bites, biting the stem and dropping the core in a trash bin in the corner. With her muzzle, she hefted the book, and at last passed through the doors that had been effectively barred. The bent scooter and wagon remained behind.

The hallway was wide, larger than that of a home, and coated in a fading yellow paint which matched the sickly light coming from the fixtures above. Room 3 was the second door on the left. No doorknob; it swung on a hinge when she pressed against it, and when she was through, it softly shut again.

There were two beds in the room, each with a privacy curtain ringing them. One curtain was wide open, the bed within bare. The other was partially closed, through which she could see the edge of a bed and a window, underneath which a small spring cot lay. She took a breath and went through the opening. Scootaloo came into view, tucked mostly below the white linen sheets, her head laying on one cheek and some of her unruly pinkish hair resting across her eyes. She looked peaceful, though Dash was loathe to imagine the bandages and stitches that surely lurked at the little filly's side. After dropping the book on the window sill, she moved to the bedside and stood. Raised a hoof, brushed the filly's hair back into an approximation of normalcy, careful not to disturb her rest.

She wanted to speak. Wasn't sure what to say. Just stood watch a while.

"Hey, sis." The words came out softly, haltingly. Just two little words. They felt strange to say, but at the same time like they were the most natural thing ever. It was all she needed.

She went to the cot. The old springs groaned and protested as her weight pressed down. Sleep came back quickly. There were no dreams.

Daylight returned, and Dash awoke to the sounds of one of the nurse ponies pulling aside the privacy curtain. Feeling somewhat unkempt, and seeing that Scoots was still asleep, she edged past the nurse, who was lifting the patient's sheets to inspect the surgical site. Dash walked to the small adjoining bathroom, and with her hoof, nudged the lever that pumped water into the low-slung sink. She splashed her front hooves through the chilly water and patted it against her face. Took a little sip, wet her parched throat. Lowered her head and stuck the top of it directly under the flow, water cascading across her mane. She drew back out, careful not to bump the faucet, and turned the water off. Walked over to the tub, violently shook her head, sending droplets spraying across the porcelain container. Good enough.

She left the bath and returned to Scootaloo's side. The nurse had pulled the bedsheets down to the filly's lower legs, leaving a view of her mustard coat, soft, feathered left wing, and the bandages which coated her other side and wrapped around her body for stability. Dark, ruddy spots showed through the thickness where her right wing formerly lay. Dash looked at the nurse, who caught her eye.

"The stitching is fine," came the answer to the unasked question. "Some bleeding is to be expected. We'll have to wash and change the bandages every day, and look out for infection. She'll need a few weeks."

The filly stirred, and eyes half-opened sleepily, then shut again. The nurse pony looked at Rainbow Dash. "She won't know what happened, yet."

Dash raised fore hooves to the bed, drawing closer to her friend. "I'll tell her," she said, not looking back. The nurse pulled the sheets back up, then backed out past the curtain, moving its rings to close off the little partition. The doors to the room made a soft whisk, whisk noise as they swung to a close.

Scootaloo's eyes opened halfway once again, but caught sight of Rainbow Dash, her face trying to convey a little smile. "Rainbow Dash..." said the filly. "We were flying..."

Dash pressed a hoof to her protege's shoulder, but a little pain of sorrow rose in her throat. "You bet we did, kid."

"There was..." Eyes opened wider. "A crash?"

"Yeah. You hit a tree, champ." Trying to add a little levity. Dash had to bring up the wing, but how could she?

"Was sore... too much crusading." The words came out a little flippant. Posturing for her idol. "You're the one who's supposed to be Rainbow Cr..." She stopped. Dash's mouth felt dry all over again. "Why is..." Scootaloo's leg moved, and the bed sheet flipped, folding over from right to left.

"no." The word was a tiny mewl.

"There were problems," started Dash.

"No!" came the response.

"Scoots... kid..." Dash tried to head off the impending explosion, but her thoughts seemed frozen, she didn't know which way to turn.

"My wing..." the shout lowered to a whisper. "Why?!" And rose again.

"It was the bone, it was growing wrong..." A surge of anger through her, as her thoughts cursed magic and technology for being unable to protect this child. "There was no choice."

All the life seemed to drain from Scootaloo, and her body sank into the bed, hooves flopping down to her sides. "Go away, how could you?" She cried. "Go away, how could you, go away, how could you." Not questioning, but stated sadly, again and again and again.

Go away. A nurse was back. Dash hadn't heard her enter. There was a needle.

How could you. She stumbled backwards. Scootaloo kept moaning the two phrases. Dash watched as the nurse pressed the needle to the filly's soft coat. The moaning slowly subsided, but still echoed through Rainbow's head.

She ran from the room. Out the door, then more doors, then more doors. The sunlight attacked her as she came outside, and she felt blinded. She stopped, panting, a mixture of rage and depression. Go away, go away, how could you?.

How could I? But what could I do? I'm a stupid hero. There's no enemy to kick, no cloud to chase, no race to win. Go away!

~ ~ ~

Twilight had stopped by the Apple farm first thing that morning, trying her best to calmly explain what had happened to the two sisters. Apple Bloom looked shocked, but the Apple family had known tragedy before, and with some sniffling and offered hugs, Applejack comforted her sister. Twilight left, but the two sisters remained to talk. Applejack seemed satisfied that the event wouldn't be too traumatic, at least.

Apple Bloom was concerned, and wanted to visit her friend. They walked the path into town quietly, passing by row after row of orchard trees, the apples still blooming but nearing harvest quality soon. Ponyville seemed a little smaller, today, and there weren't many ponies out and about.

Inside the hospital, Sweetie Belle, bruises from the incident shining brightly in waves of dark blue and black, ran up to hug the newly-arrived Crusader. Applejack nodded a somber greeting at Rarity, who had apparently escorted her own sister here. Applejack trotted over to the front desk and questioned the nurse. "Is it alright' if the two fillies visit their friend?" her drawl tinting the words with its inflection.

"Yes, but not too long. She had to be mildly sedated, earlier. It's going to be very hard to adjust to, I'm sure. If she gets upset," this addressed to the young ones, "you must leave her be." They nodded.

Scootaloo was lying with her face towards the window, hiding her eyes as the two fillies approached. When they came around the side, they could see she was awake.

"Hey, Scootaloo," they tried.

"Leave me alone." No anger came through, just a dead response. Apple Bloom looked at Sweetie Belle, who had pursed her lips slightly.

"Ah know this is hard for you, but you're our friend and we just want to do what we can..."

"Can you grow a wing back?" A little bitterness.

"It's..." the little Apple meant to continue.

"And what do you know? Where are your wings? Did someone cut off yours, too?"

Sweetie Belle piped in. "You've lost that, Scootaloo, but there's still potential...like we told Apple Bloom when we first met...for so much..."

"So much except flying, you mean. Or anything like that! I can't even scoot, now, could I?" her voice rising. "What would you know? You'll still get your magic? Apple Bloom won't be missing anything! What am I? A pegasus who can't fly? I don't care...about my...my talent, I had a dream, don't you understand? I had a dream, I wanted to be like my hero, what can I do now? Hop along the ground and watch her soar in the sky? I could wait, sure, I could wait and wait and wait because I knew someday it would happen, but they stole that from me and she let it happen! What dreams did you have? What have you lost?"

Apple Bloom spoke sadly. "You know my parents..."

"Oh, can it! At least you had them! At least you knew them! What have I ever had? A chilly bunk in a broken down rotting old house! Just...just leave me be!"

Sweetie Belle tried to pick up the pieces. "You..."

"Go away!" The shouting drew a nurse to the room, and she glared at the stunned fillies. With a hoof, she ushered them away from the reclining pegasus, and they could only leave the hospital feeling sad, unsure of how to reach their hurt friend.

"She needs some time." was the best Rarity could offer.

~ ~ ~

Dash came back. The privacy curtain had been pushed completely open, and she found the filly much as the two friends had. Scootaloo stared out the side window, her face betraying no emotion. Dash didn't speak at first, but grabbed the book she had left on the sill. She dropped it at the bedside, though Scootaloo didn't react to it.

"I thought I would... read to you. Twilight got me hooked on this, last time I was in here..." She saw the filly's eyes glance toward the cover, then return to the window. "Daring Do...she's a lot like you. Or me."

It only seemed to enrage the girl immediately. "I'll never be like y...her, now!" Her eyes took on a maddened look.

"Scootaloo, please..." Rainbow lifted the book atop her hoof. "If you give it a chance..."

"No!" Scootaloo lashed out suddenly and furiously, striking the book sharply with her own hoof. It flew from Dash's grasp, skidding across the room to end up beneath the second, empty bed. Go away, go away.

"I'll come back later." Dash found herself standing and moving away. There was no response from the filly, who had settled back into her window pose. Dash left the book to lie where it was, and walked to the door. She looked back, but said no more.

The nurses cleaned the wound that night, and changed the bandages. They checked on the patient a few times throughout the night.

Several hours after the last glimpse inside the room, a nurse showed up to bring breakfast to the filly.

She was gone.