//------------------------------// // Cut // Story: Crack in the Diamond // by Thak //------------------------------// Darkness. That’s all there was. No matter which way I turned. Darkness. And sound. So much sound, coming from everywhere. Constant beeping. A strange whirring noise coming from somewhere near my chest. The clatter of something hard on the ground, a constant tak tak tak. “Can you hear me?” Of course I can hear you! I can hear everything in this…this….where am I? How did I end up here? For that matter, WHO am I? That’s the thought that frightens me the most. I’m trying to look around, move my legs, something to get out of this nightmare I’ve become trapped in. But no matter how much I try, my body won’t cooperate. It won’t listen to me. It’s quiet now. The only thing I can hear is the breathing of several individuals. The beeping is still there. The mechanical noise coming from my chest. “You’ve been in quite an accident. You’re in Ponyville hospital. I am Dr. Stableforth. You’ve been in a coma the last few days. Do you understand this?” I try to speak, but the words won’t come. I know them. I know what they’re supposed to be. Why can’t I talk? Did something happen to my voice? Will I be able to talk again? “You have a breathing tube in your throat. I’m going to need you to nod or shake your head to answer my questions, okay?” I tilt my head ever so slightly. I feel as helpless as a newborn, each movement zapping what little energy I have. I don’t understand. I'm laying here, but I feel as though I just went ten rounds with a manticore. “—been in a coma, like I said. There have been some complications resulting from the accident you had out in town. You suffered a mild stroke, and you had some internal bleeding in your brain. Right now, you’re suffering from some vision loss, but we’re hoping that will clear up with time. However, your cerebellum has been damaged, and as such, your memories have been affected. We’ll be doing a few more tests to determine how much has been affected, but for now I want you to just rest and take it easy for a few days, okay?” Okay. So I can’t see. It’s not some nightmarish pit I’m trapped in. It's just a nightmare. Memory affected? Is that why I don’t know who I am? Well of course. Why would I not know who I am otherwise? This is the worst feeling. I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy. Wait, Do I have a worst enemy? “You have a visitor. She was the one who brought you in. Is it alright if I let her in?” Sure, why not? I’m afraid I won’t be good company though. And the way the good doctor has been talking, I might not be good company for a while. Of course, since this visitor brought me in, I should at least be courteous. I only wish I had time to look presentable. Now where did that come from? “Rares?” That voice. I know that voice. Why do I know that voice? “I heard you was wakin’ up. Hope ya don’t mind me stayin’?” I like that voice. It makes me feel safe. Secure. Warm. Like I belong. But who is she? Why do I feel this way when she speaks? She seems to know me. Maybe I can learn what happened. And why am I craving apples? I nod towards the newcomer. It’s lonely, not being able to see who you’re talking to. Or whose talking to you, for that matter. “Applejack here hasn’t left your side the whole time you’ve been here. You’re lucky to have such a friend.” Applejack. I like her name. Strong; dependable. And for all it appears, she does seem to live up to that ideal. After all, the doctor said she’d been here the whole time, right? She hadn’t left. She’d stayed by me through it all. That has to mean something. But why did she call me Rares? Is that my name? Rares? No, it has to be short for something. Or maybe Rare is my first name? That seems kind of odd, though. Maybe it has something to do with something I did before? Or some inside joke? Or maybe it’s a family name? I gotta figure out a way to make her tell me. “—tube out tomorrow. The neurologist will be in tomorrow as well. He’ll be doing some exercises to see what kind of damage has been done, and we’ll determine what to do from there. If you need anything, there is a button on your left side. All you have to do is press it. Applejack will be staying for a bit, but I have told her you need your rest. So no overdoing things, ladies.” There’s only one other person in the room now. And she sounds…….odd. Something is not right here. I know I’m out of sorts, as it were, but she seems to be the one with the breathing trouble. If I were to guess, I’d say she was….crying? I want to reach out and comfort her. She seems to need comforting more than I do right now. Maybe that’s the medicine? I mean I know I should be panicking about being left in a room with a complete stranger, but my mind doesn’t care. It feels like nothing can bother me now. But what was bothering her? She wasn’t the one in the hospital bed, trying to figure out who she was or what happened to her. Why was she so upset? “It’s just not fair, Rarity.” So Rares WAS short for something. Rarity! My name is Rarity! “I told Big Mac he shouldn’t have loaded the dang cart so full. Maybe if I’d been faster, I could’ve stopped it. Or maybe…..I don’t know…” So there was a cart. And apparently this ‘Big Mac’ had loaded it too full. Might this have something to do with my accident? But what was the cart used for? What was it carrying? And why would I be near a cart? She’s leaning on me. I can feel her quietly sobbing into my lap. This is not good. I can already feel my eyes start to tear up as well. I don’t know why. I shouldn’t feel anything for this stranger, this Applejack. Even if she had brought me here. And stayed with me. And made me feel safe. And comforted. Maybe I could give her some support? But what can I do? I can’t talk to her, not with this breathing tube in my throat. The only way I can communicate is by nodding or shaking my head. This poor girl is clearly upset, and there isn’t anything I can do for her. It’s not fair! She's made a huge sacrifice for me, has stayed by my side, and there’s nothing I can do for her? I refuse to believe it! There must be something. “I’m sorry, Rares. I’m guessin’ these tears ain’t helping things a whole lot. Doc said you might not remember what happened or who I am, but I reckon there’s a little part of ya that knows. Always there to comfort a friend in a time of need.” I’m stroking her mane. When did I do that? It hadn’t been a conscious thought. Indeed, I thought I couldn’t move anything. So how was I doing this? And WHY was I doing this? Surely she had other friends she could lean on? I didn’t need to be the one to comfort her. And yet the thought of her crying is breaking my heart. Why do I care so much? I need to know. Maybe I’ll ask her tomorrow. When they get this silly tube out of my throat. Then I can ask her. Tomorrow. Darkness. Again. Nothing but perpetual darkness. It’s not as noisy as it was yesterday. The beeping of the machines is still there. I could hear the sound of someone breathing in some part of the room. But there’s no whirring. And nothing is in my throat. The tube!! They took the tube out!! I can move my mouth! I can talk! “Mmmm…” So dry! I need water! Anypony? There’s gotta be some nearby. Wait! Where’s that button the doctor was talking about? This thirst is killing me. It’s like I’m swimming in a desert! “I gotcha Sugarcube. Easy does it.” I feel the straw hit me in the nose as I fumble around, trying desperately to get some water down my parched throat. The water was cool, and tasted slightly stale, as if it had been there all day. Sweet blessed relief! Never have I tasted anything so good! At least, not that I remember…. “Now take it easy, Rarity. Doc doesn’t want you talkin’ just yet. Somethin’ about recup—recoupe—getting’ better and restin’. It’s about 7 in the mornin’. They came and took the breathin’ tube outta yer throat. And let me tell ya’, that was more disgustin’ than feedin’ slop to the pigs.” She’s chuckling like that was a pretty funny joke. Pigs? Does that mean she has a farm? She’s a farmer? Why am I friends with a farmer? I don’t even like dirt. At least, I don't think I do. “I’ll go let the Doc know yer up. I’m sure he’s got all sorts of questions for ya.” I’ve got a couple questions myself. How long am I supposed to be like this? When will my memories return? When will I see again? Will I see again? How am I gonna take care of myself without being able to see? Where do I go once the doctor says I’m healed? Will I have to stay here forever? Who am I really? ”Hi there! Can you hear me? It’s Dr. Stableforth. How are you doing today?” I’m about to open my mouth to speak when I remember what Applejack said about resting. So I just smile. “Good! Applejack said you already tried talking? We’re gonna try to keep that to a minimum for now. We don’t want you to rush getting better. We’re going to take things nice and slow. Do you remember where you are?” Yes. I'm in Ponyville hospital. I nod slowly. “Good! Glad to hear it! Neurology is going to be here in about half an hour. Like I mentioned yesterday, they’re going to do some tests. They’re also going to ask you some questions. Now, I don’t want you talking just yet, so there will be a device they’re going to put on you. The device has a spell that will allow you to speak, in a sense. All you have to do is think of what you wanna say, and the device creates the voice for you. Understand?” I think it talks. Not that difficult of a concept, really. “Are you okay with Applejack being there? If not, it’s fine. We don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” Sure. Why not? She might be able to answer some of my questions, too. After all, she knows who I am better than I do. I give my consent and wait. It’s not long until I hear shuffling in the room, as several bodies entered. Probably the neurologists Dr. Stableforth had mentioned. “Hello! My name is Dr. Lobias, but you may call me Lobe. I am a neurologist here at the hospital. And what that means is I deal with matters involving the brain. Forgive me if I appear rude, Ms. Rarity, but we are pleasantly surprised to see you in such good shape, considering all that has happened. The device I’m going to place on you will allow you to speak using your thoughts. All you have to do is think the answers you want to give. I’m going to ask you a series of questions, just to determine how extensive the damage is. Ready?” It feels like a hat is being placed on my head, only it’s not. It’s like there’s a skeleton of a hat, only not enough to actually be a hat. “Tell me, do you remember anything at all about the incident that brought you here?” No. “Very well. Amnesia is not uncommon with brain injuries. Do you remember anything before waking up in the hospital?” No. “Indeed. Do you know your name?” Rarity. “Date of birth?” No idea. “Hmm. How do you know your name is Rarity?” Because Applejack said it was. “How do you know Applejack?” She was here when I woke up. Dr. Stableforth said she brought me in. “I see. Well, Rarity, it seems that you have a severe case of retrograde amnesia. Most likely this is due to the accident which brought you here. Unfortunately, we can’t use magic to fix what’s wrong. With brain trauma, we’ve found that it’s best to just let the brain heal naturally.” Will it hurt? “Not at all. We also want you to wear this helmet for a bit. It will get your brain back into processing mode, and should help you relearn speech patterns.” It’s not uncomfortable. Sure I’ll give it a shot. “Splendid. I just need to talk with Applejack for a moment, and then we will be out of your mane.” I can hear whispering. They’re too quiet. I hope Applejack stays for a bit. Maybe I can talk to her. “Alright, Ms. Rarity. I am leaving now. I’ll let you and Applejack get settled. Thank you so much again for agreeing to this.” Goodbye, Dr. Lobe. “So, Sugarcube, ya got any questions for me?” Who am I? “I figured that’d be the first. Your name is Rarity. You’ve been a resident of Ponyville for a good 10 years at least. As long as I’ve known you, anyway. You run the Carousel Boutique, a clothin’ store you started from scratch and turned into quite a nice shop. Of course, I don’t go into all that frou-frou stuff, but it makes you happy. You got a little sister named Sweetie Belle, who you absolutely adore. Your best friend’s a pegasus named Fluttershy. She’s a quiet one, and she’ll jump at just about anything scarier than her own shadow. And even that sometimes.” She’s chuckling. How come you’re here and she isn’t? No offense intended. “None taken, Sugarcube. I told the girls I would look after ya. They all got responsibilities, and this being kinda the off season fer apples, I figured I could just let Big Mac run the Farm.” What did I do? What were my hobbies? “Well, I reckon dressin’ up and lookin’ pretty would just about sum it up. I’m kiddin’, Sugarcube. Let’s see…. Y’know, I don’t know if I can answer that one. You’d always seemed so into your work, designing dresses and what-not. We never really spent a whole heap of time just hangin’ out, just the two of us. Usually, we’d be spending time with the girls; Fluttershy, Rainbow Dash, Pinkie Pie, and Twilight Sparkle. Oh! You did love the spa. You’d go every week with Fluttershy. Said it made ya feel like a million bits. I was never really into that stuff, but you were always tryin’ to get Rainbow and I to come along and get prettied up or something.” Every week? Was I really that vain? “Oh no, I don’t think it had anythin’ to do with vanity. You’d always taken really good care of yourself, that’s all. Makin’ sure you was always presentable. To be honest, it always made me a little jealous. Everywhere you went, everypony would watch as you walked by. Some would even come up and talk to ya. Poor fellas never stood a chance.” Was I mean to them? Do they hate me? I sound like a selfish snob. “Nopony hates you, Rares! Don’t ever think it! And you are not selfish! I can’t count the number of times you’ve come through for yer friends, and the number of strangers you’ve helped along the way! You’ve always put other ponies well-bein’ ahead of yer own, and that’s why I-We love you. All us girls. Even when…” Even when what? “I suppose your gonna find out sooner or later. There was this big hootenanny they do every year called the Grand Gallopin’ Gala. All us girls had gone, and you’d outdone yourself be designing all our dresses. When we got there, you’d been captivated by one of the stallions there, Prince Blueblood. Boy did that turn out badly. He was such a jerk to ya, Rares. I thought fer sure you was just gonna give him a good tongue-lashin’, but you didn’t. It weren’t until after he spat out my homemade apple fritter that you finally stood up to him. Course, mighta been him shieldin’ himself from the cake with your pretty dress. I’d never seen ya so angry. Twilight and Princess Celestia walked in after that. Course by then, things had gotten a mite crazy. We skedaddled pretty quick, headed down to Joe’s, and grabbed some donuts. Night turned out pretty good after that.” So safe to say no princes after that? “Nah. You poured yourself into your work. I think that no-good Blueblood had pretty much sealed the deal on you datin’ fer a while. I don’t think you ever got serious with any pony after that.” So no relationships. What about other family? You said I had a sister? “Eeyup. Sweetie Belle. Cutest little filly. Loves ya to pieces. Spends all her time with my sister Applebloom and a schoolmate of theirs named Scootaloo. She’s livin’ with your parents until your memory comes back.” That’s probably for the best. I don’t know what I would say to her. “Don’t worry ‘bout her. She’s in good hooves.” What about you Applejack? What’s your story? “You wanna know about me?” Yes. You seem to know a great deal about who I am, and you must care about me if you stayed here while I was in a coma. I would like to get to know you. Maybe try to figure out how we became friends. “Alright. That’s fair enough, I’d reckon. Name’s Applejack, though you already know that. I live on Sweet Apple Acres with Big Mac, Applebloom, and Granny Smith. Big Mac’s the oldest; he’s stubborn, and he don’t talk much. At least, not to ponies besides family. Applebloom’s a trouble maker. She can’t seem to stop getting’ in trouble. And Granny Smith has to be the oldest pony Equestria. She’s ornery, and don’t take no flak from nopony. Like I said, we live at Sweet Apple Acres. It’s a big farm on the outskirts of Ponyville. We’re known throughout all of Equestria fer our Zap Apple Jam and homemade cider.” What about your parents? “They’re……gone. Been a couple years now. I don’t like to talk about it.” I am so sorry, Applejack. I didn’t know. “Reckon no way you could’ve.” Any other family or friends? “Well, there’s Apples spread throughout all of Equestria, from Los Pegasus all the way to Baltimare, and anywhere in between. The Oranges live in Manehattan- they’re my ma’s side of the family. Don’t really visit as often as I’d like, but them and the Apples don’t see eye to eye on a lot of stuff. As far as friends go You, Twi, Pinkie, Flutters and Rainbow are my best friends. I guess you could say I was friends with most everypony else in Ponyville, though. Not as close as us gals are, but I reckon they’d help if I asked.” You sound like a very popula—Ahh oh dear. Do forgive me for yawning. I didn’t realize I was so tired. “Schucks, Rarity. No need to apologize. Truth be told, I could use a little break. We’ve been talkin’ a mighty long while, and I suppose I shouldn’t be keepin’ you up. Good night.” Applejack? “Yeah, Sugarcube?” Thanks for talking with me. “My pleasure.” And Applejack? “Yeah?” Can we do this again tomorrow? "Absolutely. Anything else?" Could you take this device off? It’s kind of heavy. “Sure thing. And don’t worry ‘bout anything. I’ll be stayin’ right here, case you need anything.” That’s nice of her. That’s the last thought I have before sleep overtakes me. It’s the middle of the night. Or at least it sounds like it. The machines are beeping, but I can’t hear anypony moving. There’s only the sound of my labored breathing, and something growling in the corner. No. Not growling. It’s too rhythmic. Too even. Snoring. Poor Applejack, sleeping somewhere in the room. She sounds like a little train locomotive. I hope all that talking today hasn’t made her too tired to continue tomorrow, or caused her to be a little hoarse. Ha! A little hoarse. I need more sleep. That was a horrible joke. Maybe if I just close my eyes, I’ll be able to- Where am I? This is nothing like the Ponyville hospital. I’m in a flat, empty, motionless void. But I see something! Finally, something I can see! But what is it? It looks like a six legged pony. Only it has a purple polka dotted mane. And it’s eyes! There were stars shooting out of it! And what was that garish basket she was carrying? It looks like it’s full of sparkly eggs! How amazing! Whatever could this mean? There must be someone who knows. I’ll ask Applejack. She’ll tell me. She's nice.