//------------------------------// // Chapter 4 - Hoping // Story: Crystal Wings // by Witching Hour //------------------------------// When Witching Hour arrived at the hospital the next day, wearing a fresh lab coat and blue framed glasses, Monkey Wrench was already sitting up in bed, seemingly waiting for her, but her gaze didn’t turn to the healing pony, remaining fixed on the view provided by the window. “Do you really think it’ll work?” Monkey Wrench asked, still not moving her eyes from the view of Canterlot’s skies. “Would you rather live without me trying?” Witching Hour asked in reply. Her tone was gentle in its honesty, but still caused the pegasus to whip around on the bed to fix the unicorn doctor with piercing green stare. After a long moment of silence, one of Wrench’s red eyebrows arched upward, as though prompting Witching Hour to reply. Witching Hour simply mirrored the expression back at her patient. Another long moment of silence passed between them, but unexpectedly, Monkey Wrench snorted before quickly covering her mouth and averting her eyes. The whole of her yellow body started shaking before it could no longer continue to do so and the pegasus let out a soft chortle which gradually grew into full on laughter. Despite trying to maintain her calm and professional composure, Witching Hour felt the corners of her mouth twitching upwards at her patient’s response. “Are you kidding?! I’d rather die than not try!” Monkey Wrench finally answered after a long and hearty laugh, making a small snort of amusement escape Witching Hour’s mask of professionalism. “Good,” Witching Hour responded, taking her seat near the bed again. “But I want you to know… This has never been done before and-” And she was suddenly cut off by Monkey Wrench shushing her irritably with a hoof pressed to the unicorn’s muzzle. “Stop it. I don’t wanna know… All I know is that a pegasus with lamed wings is no pegasus, and I’m a Gods. Damned. Pegasus,” Monkey Wrench stated firmly, leaving Witching Hour stunned and thoughtful. ‘Do I really do this to everyone I try to help?’ Witching Hour asked in her own mind, awed. Monkey Wrench finally removed her hoof from over her doctor’s mouth, allowing her to speak… but then words ran away from the unicorn, leaving her mouth working with no sound coming out. She sighed heavily before clearing her throat, and finally managed to formulate a coherent sentence. “I’m glad you feel that way… I just hope you feel the same if this doesn’t work…” Witching Hour said firmly, but her voice gave away some of her fear at the end of it. Monkey Wrench merely sighed at her. “Look… If we don’t do this, we’ll never know if it’ll work… I may have been the worst accident in recent memory at the Weather Factory, but I’ve heard enough stories to know that if this sort of thing can be pulled off, it’d make a lot of future accidents less… identity shattering…” Monkey Wrench sighed again, crossing her arms over her chest. “If not me, who else would you test this on?” Witching Hour smiled shakily at Monkey Wrench, acknowledging the truth of the pegasus’ words while still reeling a bit when Monkey Wrench said almost exactly what Luna had the night before. Monkey Wrench smiled back at her, unfolding her arms and putting hoof on Witching Hour’s shoulder. “You’re giving me a chance to fly again…” Monkey Wrench started softly, her gaze returning to the window. “I’ve loved my work as much as I love flying… I could still work, but it would be hollow without flying… I don’t want the pity that working with these…” she moved slightly, shifting her bandaged wings as much as the mauled limbs would allow her to without pain as she looked back at them over her shoulder, “would get me…” she finished, her green eyes narrowed in a mix of sadness and frustration. Witching Hour could only nod, her heart going out to the pegasus. She could only imagine what she spoke of. There were medical practices to help earth ponies overcome bad legs, even unicorns with badly damaged horns… But a pegasus’ wings? Something so fragile, yet strong enough to bear the race aloft? There were treatments for strains, sprains, and dislocations - even simple breaks - but nothing for something so maimed. Unless her new spell worked… “I’m not the greatest flyer… I always preferred fixing things or figuring out problems… But without flying, what am I?” Monkey Wrench asked, more rhetorically than anything else. She returned her gaze back to Witching Hour. More than ever, the unicorn felt desire to help her patient, to succeed even though there was no precedent. She reached out and put a gray hoof on Monkey Wrench’s shoulder. “That’s why I’m here, Miss Wrench,” Witching Hour said quietly. “I wish I knew the outcome of this spell… I wish I could say without a doubt that I’ll succeed and see you flying again… but I can’t. All I have is hope that I will… A well-founded hope, but hope nevertheless…” she continued, pulling her glasses off and tucking them into a pocket of her lab coat with her magic. She met Monkey Wrench’s eyes with an earnest blue-eyed gaze. She felt her heart swell as she saw the light grow instead of shrink in the pegasus’ eyes. “I know,” Monkey Wrench replied simply. “But it’s more than I could have expected back in Cloudsdale…” she added, smiling slightly at the unicorn, making a small echoing smile appear on her doctor’s face. Her blue eyes flick to the clock in the room, noting that it was time to go. “Well... Let’s get to it then…” Witching Hour says as her horn gives off a brief blue glow to press a button near the door. Soon, a pair of nurses arrive with a stretcher to transport Monkey Wrench to the procedure room. The trip there is mostly silent, broken only by the rattling of the stretcher. Right before entering the pre-op rooms, Monkey Wrench grabs at Witching Hour’s shoulder before they could part ways. “Doctor Witching Hour? I just want you to know… Whatever happens…” Witching Hour smiled at her patient, no small amount of relief in her eyes. “I know, Miss Wrench… Thank you,” she says, gaining an understanding smile in return and a nod from Monkey Wrench. She did know, without needing Monkey Wrench to say it. No matter what the outcome of today’s experiment, even if the pegasus couldn’t fly as she had or at all, Witching Hour had helped Monkey Wrench. Witching Hour’s horn flared with magic once more, the glacial blue aura surrounding Monkey Wrench. The pegasus’ eyes drooped and closed, now in a peaceful and numbed slumber.