//------------------------------// // Chapter 2: Have to Get Out // Story: Shylock // by Whirring Gears //------------------------------//         “Big job for you today,” your escort says, looking down at you with his nose in the air.         You only nod your head in response.         “You’re not nervous about it, are you?” he asks.         You shake your head.         “Good. That’s good. Glad to hear it.” He and the other stallion take a step closer towards you. “We’ll make sure to get you there safely.” ~~~~~         Your vision fades to black as the dream ends. A faint beeping noise soon becomes apparent as you open your eyes. You start to notice a very strong clean smell. However, the bright fluorescent light directly above you makes you shut them again. Lowering your head away from the blinding overhead, you slowly try again.         It doesn’t help at all that apparently everything in the room is as white as Princess Celestia in a snowstorm. Your progress is painful, but soon enough, you begin to make out shapes and colors. What you’re laying on seems to have changed. A white sheet is over you in a bed with small railings on the sides. A couple wires are attached to your chest up to a few machines. One of them is making the beeping noise, but you’re still too tired to care which.         Then you remember, you’re in the hospital. A small wave of panic shoots through you, as the tempo of the beeping increases slightly. It and your heart rate return to normal shortly after as you remember why you’re here and what your plan is: Fake amnesia, get out, and get back to Manehattan. You’ve probably missed enough work to make your superiors very unhappy.         Letting out a yawn, you look around the room. Nopony else is in here at the moment. You wonder where the yellow one went. Fluttershy, that was her name.         To be fair, she probably has her own business to attend to. She was nice enough to let you sleep on her couch after almost dying from bloodloss. Maybe you could do something nice for her when all’s said and done. A little ‘Thank You’ card, perhaps.         The sound of a door opening takes you out of your thoughts. You look up to see the nurse from before entering the room.         “Good afternoon,” she says, much friendlier than you remember her being earlier. “Glad to see that you’re awake.”         You give a simple nod to her in reply.         “Now then,” she says, holding up a clipboard she had with her. “Do you happen to remember anything about the incident that injured you?”         Putting your plan into motion, you pause as if you’re thinking before slowly shaking your head.         “Do you remember where the incident occurred?”         You shake your head.         “Do you remember where you are from?”         Pause again. Shake head.         “Do you remember your name?”         Longer pause this time. Shake head.         She breathes in deeply before sighing. Picking up a pen in her mouth, she scribbles down something on her clipboard before putting it up on the table beside your bed. She walks over to a sink in the corner, which you wonder if you could use to wash your mane. Turning on the faucet, she washes her hooves in the flowing water before turning it off again and drying them off. Walking back up to you, she bends down and you can hear a drawer opening. The sound triggers an unpleasant recent memory, but you try to not let any reaction show itself.         She pops right back up with a small flashlight in her mouth. Turning to you, she gestures with a hoof for you to face towards her. As you turn your own head, she places a hoof on your cheek, signalling for you to keep still. You feel your still ruffled mane ruffle some more. You suppress a groan for your poor hair. She looks up and with a small bite the flashlight in her mouth turns on. Bringing the light down, she shines it in your left eye briefly, then your right. Another small bite turns the flashlight off as she takes her hoof back while you try to blink out the colorful spots now in your vision.         She moves your head so you’re facing up towards the ceiling. You hear another click of the flashlight before feeling a hoof pull up your ear which had been folded back and down by habit. A small sensation of warmth within your ear. She walks around the bed and repeats the process with your other ear before clicking off the light again.         She goes back to the table, places the flashlight aside, and writes on the clipboard before reaching back down into the drawer. This time, she pulls out a tongue depressor held to her hoof with a small elastic band.         “Open please,” she says.         You open your mouth as she puts the flat wooden stick against your tongue. The grainy taste immediately makes your mouth feel dry.         “Say ‘aaah’.”         Following her request, you let out a tiny continuous sound that could be mistaken for you just exhaling. However, it’s enough to satisfy her as she takes the tongue depressor back and slides it off her hoof. It falls to the ground with a small clang, probably into a trashcan. She holds up a glass thermometer which she gives a little shake before pointing towards you.         “Open again please. Under your tongue.”         You oblige, lifting your tongue as she places the cool glass rod. You’re not sure how many taste buds are underneath your tongue, but you can still register a metallic taste as you close your lips.         Reaching down again, she pulls out a stethoscope. Putting the headset into her ears, she brings the chestpiece down a ways below your left shoulder. You wince a little at the cold sensation of the metal under your fur.         “Breathe in slowly,” she instructs. Taking in a full breath of air through your nose, she then says, “Breathe out.” You release the breath as you had just inhaled it. She moves the stethoscope over to the other side of your chest.         “Breathe in.”         You do so this time, taking a little more air than last time. You feel your lungs strain a bit.         “Breathe out.”         To breathe out is a bit of a relief. As you exhale, the nurse puts her hoof back on your shoulder.         “Sit up, please.”         With a little effort and some help from the nurse, you manage to get up into a sitting position. You had nearly forgotten how sore you felt everywhere. As soon as you are able to support yourself, you feel the cold sensation come to a point on the right side of your upperback.         “Breathe in,” she prompts again.         You do so slowly, taking care not to breathe in too much like last time. A little worry tickles your mind that maybe breathing in so much last time may skew the results of this checkup.         “And out again.”         Releasing the breath, you come to figure that this nurse probably would have noticed and said something if it truly mattered. The position of the stethoscope moves again to the other side of your back.         “In.”         You do so, bending back a little. You suddenly have the urge to stretch, but you wait until this little test is done. Although she seems to make you hold this breath for a bit longer which makes you wonder if something suddenly went wrong.         “Out.”         Feeling a small bit of relief, you exhale again, but the nurse keeps the stethoscope on your back for a little while longer. She moves it upwards a tiny bit, listening again before moving it again a little ways towards your spine.         The cold sensation leaves your back as she scribbles down on the clipboard again. Gently lowering yourself down, you rest your head against the pillow again and arch your back upward in the stretch you needed. The action makes you feel more awake. She glances over towards your chest as she puts the stethoscope away. “I’m surprised. I thought I’d have to replace all the stitches, not just the ones you pulled earlier,” she says. “Fluttershy did a good job when she found you.”         Wait, it was Fluttershy that sewed you up? Looking down to your chest, you notice that the strings holding the wound closed near the top was a different color then what’s holding the rest.         “Well, I suppose with her work with animals, she must have some experience,” she adds before bringing out a black cuff with a pump attached by a small hose. “May I see your arm, please?” she asks.         You lift your foreleg towards her as she opens the cuff to put around it. Securing it by velcro, she takes the pump and begins squeezing it. The cuff begins to inflate around your arm as you think.         So Fluttershy found you, let you stay at her house, and patched you up? She sounds like a saint. Or at least a vet, if the words of the nurse are anything to go by. And with all the animals you saw in her house, she’s probably very busy. It makes you feel a bit better for choosing to come here and leaving Fluttershy alone.         The cuff stops inflating as the nurse watches the dial on the side. It squeezes tight enough that you feel a little loss of circulation. A tingly sensation runs down to your hoof as the hairs on your foreleg feel like they’re beginning to stand on end. The cuff starts deflating in small, short bursts as the nurse controls it. After a few more moments, she deflates it completely and takes it off your arm. The warm tingly feeling lingers as she puts it away and writes down something else.         She holds up a small rubber mallet and pulls up the sheet over your hindlegs. Looking over to make sure you’re looking, she holds the mallet above your right knee. She gives a little nod before giving your leg a firm tap. You feel your leg tense a little in reaction. Repeating the process with the other leg, she looks to you first before firmly tapping again with the same result. Putting the mallet away, she reaches towards you and grabs the thermometer in your mouth. She looks at the red line within the glass before writing again on her clipboard.         As she writes, a light knocking comes from the door.         “Come in,” the nurse says.         The door opens and in walks another nurse. “Hello. Hope I’m not interrupting,” she says.         “Not at all. How can I help you?” the nurse asks.         “Well, a nice mare had come by to drop this off for the gentlecolt here.” She holds up something over her pink foreleg. You have to turn your head to get a better look at it.         It’s your vest! You had completely forgot about it!         She brings it over and holds it out for you. Examining it, you really have to see closely to notice the sewing work in the chest where it was torn. The green pinstripes shine brightly against the now vivid black. This thing is probably cleaner than the day you first got it. It’d probably lead to your boss asking a couple more questions, but you’ll worry about that later. For now, you look over your vest with one of the widest grins you’ve had in a long time.         “So how are you feeling?” she asks. “Can you remember anything?”         You smile falters as you shake your head.         “Oh dear...” she says. “How is he, nurse? Any other injuries we were worried about?”         “We haven’t been able to run any tests of that sort since the patient was sleeping. Hospital protocol,” the nurse explains. “However, now that he’s awake, could you bring in the specialized physician? I just finished giving him a basic physical examination before you came in.”         “And did that show any problems?” she asks.         “Well, nothing urgently pressing, no. However, whatever sort of life he had before now, he hasn’t eaten well. He shows some signs of malnutrition, but that’s it.”         The second nurse giggles. “Well, I’m sure he’ll fix that when he gets out of here.” You offer a tiny nod with a sheepish smile, even though you’ll probably not do as they tell you. “So if all goes well, when do you think the patient will be able to check out?”         “I don’t know,” the first nurse says. The comment sparks concern in your mind. She looks over and notices your worried expression. “Look, I know that you don’t like hospitals and I said you could possibly leave today,” she begins, “But I also thought you’d have remembered who you are by now.”         You feel your jaw drop. “We can’t just kick out a patient with amnesia,” the other nurse says. “Where would they go? Where would they stay?” “Now then, please hold still...” says the first nurse as she takes a cotton ball and pushes it against your foreleg, under the fur down to the skin. Your mind is a buzz with so much panic that the heart monitor starts beeping a bit faster. You don’t even register the needle going into your arm and withdrawing blood.         So they’ll only let you go if you can remember? Maybe you can come up with a fake story... but no, what if they try and do a background check? They have your cutie mark and physical appearance so they could easily spot you in a crowd. Where would they even look in Manehattan? Can you take that chance?         The nurse gives the blood sample to her coworker. “I’ll send the doctor when I get to the lab. We’ll get those tests done so you can get out of here as soon as you remember who you are!” says the second nurse cheerfully before walking out of the room.         The sound of rushing water attracts your attention again. The nurse who examined you is washing her hooves again. In the corner of your vision, you see the clipboard she was writing on. A section in red ink catches your eye.         TRIED TO LEAVE CARE. KEEP AN EYE ON THIS PATIENT.         You put your face in your hooves. How are you supposed to get out of here? They probably have some night ponies or something who’d notice if you try to leave. You’re stuck here even longer, your boss will get angrier, your next assignment’s already meager pay will probably get docked, your mane’s still a mess, and this is all assuming they don’t find out who you are first.         The sink’s faucet squeaks off again as the nurse comes back up to you and flips off the switch for the heart monitor machine. She begins taking off the electrodes attached to your chest. “The doctor will be in soon,” she explains as she sets them aside and picks the clipboard back up. “We want to get you ready for your xrays as soon as possible. I’ll be back with him shortly.”         You give a nod as she exits the room. You consider your options carefully. Looking over to the window, it looks like it might be able to open, but all you see is sky through it. However, since you fell asleep on the way, you don’t know how many stories this building is and which floor you’re currently on. Normally not a worry for a pegasus like yourself, but you don’t know if you can trust your wings just yet. You still feel some soreness everywhere.         Do they even have guards? They must have ponies for late night care. You wonder if they have a back door you can slip through.         That’ll have to be for later though. Escape is important, but something else has to come first. With no heart monitor attached to you, you turn your attention to the sink. This seems like the perfect opportunity and this hospital has probably seen weirder than what you’re about to do.         Leaning up again proves to be difficult on your own. You try carefully to do so without ripping your stitches. When you get yourself up in a sitting position, you set aside your vest and look to your next obstacle: the railing along the bed. It’s about two to three inches high, but in your state, it’ll still be a challenge. Nonetheless you turn your body to try and work your way over it. You lean your side on it which begins to sting as you put your weight against it. Persisting through it and acting quickly, you manage to roll yourself up and over the rail and onto the floor with a rather hefty thump. Taking a moment to compose yourself on the ground, you look to see if your stitches are alright. They seem to be holding just fine, so you try to get up onto your hooves for the homestretch of your journey. It takes a couple tries, but you’re able to stand up and start slowly making your way towards the sink. Every step is made with either a wince or a grunt, most times both. Still, the goal was in sight, clean water to a cleaner mane. Finally reaching the sink, you sit and lean yourself against it. The faucet is high enough from the sink that you can fit your head in if you turn it sideways. When you do, you turn the knobs for both the hot and cold water. Of course the water that first hits you is rather frigid. It makes you jump a bit, tapping the side of your head against faucet, but not hard enough to hurt. It sprays a little water over the counter, though. You let the liquid run through your hair and smile, feeling the dirt, grime, and filth slowly getting washed away. The water soon becomes a pleasant temperature as you reach up and fumble around for the soap pump. Pushing the button a couple times, you bring the hoof full of soap to your scalp and begin working in into your hair. It has a fairly decent lather and it easily spreads through your rather short mane. Working in the soap is so satisfying, like scratching a particularly stubborn itch. You keep going, moving your hooves back and forth, around in circles, all throughout your mane. Feeling the rubbing and pressing with the warm water has blocked out the soreness you felt before. Letting out a sigh, the water rinses out the soap, but you still work your hooves through it, the motion and warmth calming your nerves. And then you hear a cough behind you. Glancing over, you can just see two ponies behind you in the corner of your eye. One is the nurse from earlier and the other is a different pony who you can’t really tell any features of in your current position. With a mixture of disappointment and embarrassment, you turn off the water and grab a couple of paper towels to wipe off your mane before leaning out of the sink. A couple drops of water drop onto your shoulders and back as you sit up. Wiping your face off, you look over to the two ponies in the room with you. Along with the nurse is somepony who you assume is the doctor. A unicorn with a brown mane wearing glasses along with a clean white shirt with stethoscope over their cream colored fur. They both stare at you blankly while you try to fix your mane into place. The doctor whispers something to the nurse who nods and then writes something down on her clipboard. She exits the room while the doctor turns back to you with a smile. “Glad to see you up and moving,” he says, walking towards you while reaching out a hoof. “I’m Dr. Stable. I’ll be doing a few tests on you today to make sure you didn’t hurt anything else besides your chest.” You carefully give him your own hoof. His grip is firm, but he shakes gently enough that he doesn’t cause anything to hurt. “Nice hair, by the way,” he adds with a little grin. You groan internally. He obviously doesn’t know how much of a pressing issue it was. How absolutely dirty and unkempt your mane must have been. With a little chuckle, he turns away from you toward the sink. He takes a couple more paper towels with his magic and wipes up any water that splashed out during your impromptu hair wash. You feel a little bad for making a mess, but he cleans it all up quickly before turning back to you. “So, the test room is right down the hall. Think you can walk all the way there without any pain?” he asks. “We have wheelchairs available if it’s too much.” You take a quick assessment of yourself. Everything’s still aching pretty badly and it took everything you had to get to the sink. You shake your head, opting for the wheelchair. “Very well!” he says, using his magic to open a closet in the corner of the room. Inside are various medical supplies: bandages, defibrillators, and some empty IV bags to name a few. On the bottom are a couple wheelchairs folded up flat sideways, which the doctor pulls apart with his magic and brings it just behind you. You bring yourself up just enough to get into the chair and relax into it as the smooth fabric of the seat bends down under your weight. Only complaint is that it’s rather cold to the touch. You feel the doctor begin to wheel you out of the room and down the hall.         The clean smell from before is instantly replaced with something just on the edge of sweet as you make it into the hall. It’s probably from the potted plants that they placed here and there. They don’t even smell like plants. Are they plastic? Maybe it’s for some allergy concern.         You’re wheeled past a couple nurses and patients. Some of the patients give you a glance, some cringe at the sight of your chest. The nurses, however, don’t even look up except to give a casual nod to the doctor pushing you down the hall. You look up at the signs pointing towards any potential exits and make a mental note for later.         Finally, near the end of the hallway, you get turned into a rather dark room. The sweet smell is stronger here than the hallway and makes you think the scent outside simply wafts from here. It’s smells almost as if somepony baked a chunk of rubber in a copious amount of caramel.         There’s a large machine that almost takes up half the room by itself. It hangs from the ceiling with a few cables connecting various parts. It’s all covered in white except the arms and tracks that parts would move around on which are black. A box with a lens points down toward a little padded table underneath. On one side of the table is a lump with a groove in it, probably where the pony is expected to put their head. In the corner is a control console with various buttons of all colors and screens with monitors.         “Okie dokie, we’re here!” the doctor says, wheeling you up to the table. “Please lay yourself down here on the table and be very still.”         You try to sit up and the doctor comes to help you. Gently easing you up and then back down on the table, you lean yourself down until you’re laying face up towards the machine. He goes over to the controls, out of sight while you gaze up at the intimidating machinery. A series of clicks is heard as it begins to hum to life.         When the pitch of the hum is constant, you see the doctor magic aura envelop the little lens box.         “Be still, please,” he repeats. You try to breathe calmly and obey as the lens floats over your face. A bright light attached to it causes you to wince and shut your eyes. As you settle back down, eyes firmly shut, you hear a fast series of clicks from the box. As the clicking finishes, the light you can see past your eyelids travels over to the side of your head. The box gives another series of clicks as you try to hold your position as still as possible.         The blinding light moves away from your eyes. You can still tell it’s there, but at least you can open your eyelids to see again. Looking down, but taking care not to move your head, you see the light over your chest as it clicks again. The doctor’s magic moves to beside you.         “Could you lift your forelegs up, please?” he asks.         Trying to comply, you lift your front hooves up out of the way of the lens. It clicks a bit more as the soreness burns in your muscles, making it difficult to keep them up for long. Thankfully, the clicking stops and the box moves away, prompting you to drop your hooves with a small sigh of relief.         “We’ll have to wait for those to develop,” he says. “Although from what I have observed from your movement, I don’t think there’ll be anything to worry about. Still, better safe than sorry.”         You offer a meager nod in reply as you slowly lift yourself off the table. His magic brings the wheelchair back towards you.         “Do you need to use the restroom or anything before we return to your room?” the doctor asks.         You shake your head as you sit in the seat again. It feels cold again, as if it lost all its heat just in the small time you’ve been out of it. As soon as you're comfortable, you feel yourself getting pushed out of the room and back down the hall.         The smell of the room fades as you get away from it. The hall is a little less crowded, only seeing one other patient and two nurses on your return trip. None of them look up.         Being pushed the other direction, you notice a rather large counter down the hall from your room where a few nurses are chatting. That must be the main desk where the nurses are stationed to wait on emergencies. You’ll have to avoid that area when you sneak out.         You get wheeled back into your room and by the bed where your vest lays waiting for you. The doctor’s magic lowers the railing on one side. Slowly climbing back up onto the mattress, you wonder if there was any way for you to lower those yourself before your little adventure to the sink. It doesn’t matter so you shake off the thought. As soon as you’re up onto the bed, the doctor raises the railing back in place.         “I’m afraid that the next meal is still a couple hours away. If you’re hungry, I could get you some crackers,” the doctor offers.         You shake your head. There’s too much on your mind to eat at the moment.         “Thirsty, perhaps? I can get you some ice water.”         Shake your head again.         “Alright then. You have a call button on the little remote beside you,” he says walking around and pointing it out. A bright red button on a tiny box attached to the bed by its wire. “If you need anything, feel free to press it. A nurse should be in to help you.”         The doctor’s magic starts to envelop the electrodes to the heart monitor. As they get close, you shrink back and cover yourself partially with a forearm. If he attaches that thing to you again it’ll make it harder to leave.         “Don’t worry, this won’t hurt you,” he says reassuringly. “I know it may seem scary, but we need to make sure your blood is flowing properly after that magic transfusion.” That statement makes you lower your defensive forearm a bit. “If the bloodwork comes back and tells us you’re okay, then we may be able to take it off,” he explains. With a sigh, you let him put the electrodes of the heart monitor machine back on your chest under your fur. As soon as they’re all attached, he flips a switch which causes the machine to beep again. “Believe me, I understand. Some ponies don’t like hospitals, but we just want to make sure you’re getting better, alright?” He gives a chuckle. “And believe you me, the beeping gets on my nerves sometimes. At least you could be out of here and away from it soon enough.”         You give him a nod of understanding and he walks out of the room. As soon as he’s out of sight, you look down with disdain at the electrodes on your chest. You need to get out of here, but if you try to take these off now, it would alert the staff. Looking over to the machine, it seems that the switch for it is around the other side away from you, putting it out of reach for you to turn off. Leaning back, you twist your head to get a better look at it.         ...Huh. That’s peculiar. It seems that the switch’s down position means the machine is on. There’s probably some sort of safety design logic behind that. Wouldn’t want the machine turning off before somepony has a serious problem.         You look at some of the wires around the machine. Most of the devices they go to aren’t currently in use, and by the look of some of them, you feel sorry for the ponies that need them. The wires vary in shape and color, a twisting multicolored tangle of colors. One sticks out amongst them, a fat black wire, like a long rope of licorice snakes down through the others.         Curiosity getting the better of you, you reach out and give it a little tug with your hoof. The wire is heavier than expected. It has a rather lot of slack, too. Pulling it back to examine it, you see it has a thicker insulation. Must be the main power plug to all this equipment.         A series of giggling in the hall catches your attention. You see two of the other nurses walk by your door, the red and blue furred ones, waving behind them as they trot off. Are they going on break or something? You don’t remember seeing too many nurses around, so how many are left to watch the desk? To watch the patients?         Looking at the wire, you start to get an idea. Pulling it back a bit more, you let it go. It swings and hits against the back of the heart monitor. Pulling it back again, you lift it up this time, adjusting the angle it would fall. After a few tries you lean up to barely rest against a lighting fixture that gives it a little sideways swing. When you let go, the wire falls around and smacks down on the monitor’s switch. Bringing it back into position, you manage to recreate the result reliably.         But how can you make it stay in position and fall later? You remember something the doctor offered you earlier. Pressing the call button, you wait for the last white furred nurse. It only takes a minute for her to arrive.         “Need something?” she asks.         You bring a hoof up to your mouth in a sort of drinking motion.         “Thirsty? I’ll get you some water.”         Nodding courteously, you take another look at the wire, running through the plan again. Lifting yourself up a bit, despite your soreness, you manage to put on your vest. You can’t button it up with the monitor hooked up to you, but it’s a strange comfort to be able to wear it. Familiar, but unsettling. It’ll have to do.         The nurse comes back holding a paper cup of water on a tray on her back. Turning her head, she grabs the end of the tray in her teeth and sets it on the table next to you.         “There you go. Call if you need anything else,” she says before trotting back out. Thankfully, she said nothing about you wearing your vest.         Looking down into the cup, you see the clear liquid and the ice within it. Nice long wedge shapes cool the drink, but you have another plan for them. You turn yourself, the aches and pains through your body forcing you to do it slowly. You’re a little worried about having enough time for your plan, but you know you’ll fail if you do nothing. Picking up the cup in both hooves, you bring it up and start to drink. The chilled water stings your teeth a little, but it’s manageable enough for you to drain the water, leaving only the ice. As you bring your lips away from the cup, you breathe in. Admittedly, that water was really refreshing. You try to remember the last time you drank something. It was probably a while before this.         Either way, with the water gone, all that’s left in the cup is the ice. Tilting the cup up again, you slide a large piece into your mouth, letting the rest go as you set the cup back down. Taking the ice out with a hoof, you use your other hoof to pull the fat black wire behind you, over the machine and into position again.         Unfortunately, you only have two forelegs. Thankfully, you also have two wings. They still hurt, but you are able to use one of them to hold the wire as you fiddle with the back of your mattress. It’s not completely against the wall nor is it attached to the bed so you’re able to pull it back up off the metal structure it lays on. Sliding the piece of ice into place, you let the mattress go and it stays in place between the mattress and wall, which holds back the wire.         With that set, you press the call button again. Hopefully the nurse comes by again quickly.         And quick she is. Not even thirty seconds and she’s back. “Need something else?” she asks.         You gesture with your hoof out the door.         “You need to go?” she asks.         You nod.         “To the restroom or something?”         You nod again.         “Okay. Water must have gone right through you, huh?” she says with a little chuckle as she goes to get the wheelchair from the closet. “Not surprising. You probably haven’t had too many liquids today,” she explains as she walks up and lowers the railing to your bed. She turns off the heart monitor by flipping up the switch then starts to take the electrodes off your chest. She helps you down off the bed and into the chair. You inwardly breathe a sigh of relief as you see the wire was not noticed or disturbed as you got up. “I recommend you get some sleep when we come back. Rest will help you be able to move on your own again,” she says as she wheels you back down the hall. As true as that might be, you can’t risk it. You have to get back to work right away, soreness and stitches be damned. Nopony else is in the hallway this time, save for a patient or two, which is a good sign. The less staff the better. She wheels you away from the front desk, towards the xray room again, but you stop and turn down a short hallway about halfway down. There’s only a single door marked “Restroom” which the nurse opens. “Need any help getting up for this?” she asks while flipping on the lightswitch. You see it’s a standard restroom, white all around with the basic features you’d come to expect. You shake your head as you force yourself up to your hooves. Having to get help for this would be downright embarrassing and you’re thankful it hasn’t come to that. Closing the door behind you, you trot over to the toilet and sit down. You didn’t really have to go, but it’s less painful than waiting while standing up for your scheme to fall into action. Listening to the electrical buzz of the bathroom lighting, you continue to wait. It’s low, barely audible droning calms your nerves a little. Still as the moments drag on, you can’t help but feel anxiety growing. If something went wrong, you’d never be able to tell from here. You’d just be stuck in a more awkward situation and have to start again. You’d have to waste time waiting for a while as well, which is that worst part. They might get suspicious if you ask for water and then to go to the restroom again so soon. There’s a knock on the door. “Everything okay in there?” asks the nurse. “You been in there for-” As the words are leaving her lips, you can suddenly hear a loud beeping noise from down the hall. Your ears perk up at the sound. “Oh, uh… anypony down there?” she calls down the hall. “Anypony!?” You button up your vest as you hop off the toilet. Quietly as you can manage, you walk up to the door and put a waiting hoof on the handle. “Listen, I’ll be right back!” the nurse says. “Don’t go anywhere, it’ll be just a moment!” Her final words losing volume as she makes a jog down the hall. As soon as you believe she’s around the corner, you open the door and walk out, heading the other direction. You need to move slowly, but you force yourself to walk casually with no sign of injury. Act like you’re just visiting and walk out. Thankfully, your vest covers your stitches. Following the signs labelling the exit, you feel the goal of freedom getting ever closer. As soon as you’re outside, you’re not sure what you’ll do. You don’t know if you can fly or run, but if you can hide in a bush or something, go from cover to cover to avoid the hospital staff, that’ll work for you. That’s something for when it happens, step one is getting there. And soon you shall, as you see a door with a clearly labelled sign for stairs above it. Good thing you didn’t try the window, you must be at least a level or two above the ground. Hopefully less as going down so many flights of stairs makes your legs hurt just thinking about it. However, you continue unimpeded. You reach out a hoof to push open the door. Only, the moment you do, you hear a faint whoosh and tingling sound of magic on the other side. Suddenly, the door opens. And the doctor is standing there. He looks at you surprised as he holds a folder against his chest with his hoof. “Hey, um… what are you doing all the way over here?” he asks. “There you are,” says the nurse behind you, clearly annoyed. Your ears fold back against your head. ~~~~~~ “Can’t we just tie him down!?” the nurse screams in frustration. You do feel a little bad that you’ve caused her so much grief from this morning to now. You get up off your wheelchair and settle back into your bed after your fourth escape attempt. “Afraid not,” says the doctor. “We can only restrain him if he’s a danger. He hasn’t acted violently at all.” This is true. As soon as you’re caught you simply comply with them. It’s something that comes from when you messed up at work: do as you’re told and hope the consequences aren’t too terrible. They’ve wised up to you using the heart monitor after the second time, but there were plenty of other machines by your bed that make loud beepy noises. Speaking of the heart monitor, the nurse unbuttons your vest and puts the electrodes back on your chest. “By the way, your bloodwork came back,” the nurse mentions. “Everything seems normal.” Her face gets a smirk. “But we just want to be sure,” she finishes. You breathe a sigh through your nose. So you’re fine when it comes to your blood, but now they’re just going to keep the heart monitor on you to make sure you don’t go anywhere. “And the xrays don’t show any sort of concussion or other injury,” the doctor says. “So as soon as you remember who you are, we’ll be able to let you go.” The doctor offers an encouraging smile as the nurse gives you a suspicious glance. You give them both a nod and they walk out of the room. As soon as they do, you fall back onto your pillow and look at the ceiling. You’re stuck. The windows are locked (turns out), the hall is full of staff, and they won’t let you go without a name. Anything you give them will probably be searched. Getting caught in a lie would be terrible. Giving them your real name would be even worse. All the while, your boss probably has ponies looking for you right now. Surely getting angrier with every passing hour you don’t show back up. What can you do? Putting your hooves over your face, you black out the world in an attempt to think of something, anything, that could get you out of here. Unfortunately, all that comes is the slow realization that there’s nothing you can do, short of waiting for a miracle. “-you really sure?” you hear somepony say, walking up to outside your door. Looking over, you see it’s the white nurse again. Somepony else is with them, but you can’t hear what they say. “He could be dangerous. He’s been attempting to leave for the past two hours,” the nurse says. You still can’t hear the words of the other pony, but you know they’re talking. “Didn’t he try to leave once?” the nurse asks. The other pony responds. “But what if he does?” Response. “Oh…” the nurse says with a little chuckle. “Well, I guess that would work.” The nurse knocks on your door. “Hey there,” she says to you, a bit more cheerful than earlier. As she walks in, the other pony follows her. Your eyes widen in surprise. “Hello,” Fluttershy says softly. “Are you feeling okay?” You look down and slowly nod. Aside from the aching and your pressing need to leave, you certainly couldn’t complain. Certainly not to the mare you probably owe the fact you’re alive to. “Are the staff nice?” she asks. You nod again. They haven’t constrained you at all despite your efforts to escape and they had been very quick and courteous to get you something had you called for it. “Are you still scared to be here?” she asks. You pause for a moment. Then nod. There is definite fear of being here. Fluttershy looks to the nurse who sighs. “Well… ask him,” she says with a sweep of her hoof. Ask you what? Turning to you again, Fluttershy looks you in the eyes. “Would you like to leave here?” Is this… actually a question? Hope restored, heart rising, you nod the most definitive and sure nod you’ve given today. “Are you sure?” the nurse asks. “Leave all the ponies who can monitor you and help you if anything goes wrong?” Pausing for a moment to lick your lips, you nod again. You do feel bad for everything you’ve done to them despite their care. “Is there anything else that could be a problem?” Fluttershy asks the nurse. The nurse puts a hoof around the back of her head. “To be honest, not that we can see. His blood test was clean and his xrays were fine. All that’s left is his memory.” She shakes her head. “But are you sure about this?” Fluttershy nods. “If he’s scared here, then you probably shouldn’t keep him if there’s nothing else you can treat. And I’m sure he can start remembering better if he’s more comfortable.” The nurse looks away, contemplating her words. Slowly, she begins nodding and then trots up to your bed. Switching off the heart monitor, she begins taking the electrodes off your chest. “Very well, then. We’ll have to get the doctor’s final signature, but I believe that shouldn’t be a problem.” She goes over and brings the wheelchair back out for you. You look with confusion between the other ponies in the room. Are you really getting to leave? “Come on,” says the nurse, giving the wheelchair seat a little pat. “You’re going back to Fluttershy’s.”