AN:I do not own My Little Pony.
Wings
A MLP:FiM fanfiction
Chapter 2
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Big Macintosh sat in the waiting room, reading the newest literature he could find in the disorganized pile of magazines: an edition of Equestria Daily that was actually older than he was.
Idly he wondered if Applejack's friend Twilight Sparkle would appreciate a tip on where to find some truly ancient literature.
After an interminably long wait, during which he had discovered a rather laughable article decrying Cloudsdayle's rainbow engineers as frauds (“Refracting the sun's rays? How scandalous! They're simply trying to take credit for Celestia's work!”) his name was finally droned out over a the crackly intercom.
“Macintosh Apple, the doctor will see you now.”
Big Mac wandered to the door that separated the waiting room from the rest of the clinic, and was met by Nurse Redheart.
“Hey there Big Mac!” She greeted. “I wish we could meet on more favorable terms once in a while. Follow me please.”
The nurse led him to the examination room, and quickly left, shutting the door behind her. It was lit by glaring lights, and there was a sharp tang of antiseptic in the air. A large poster took up a good portion of one of the walls. Up at the top, in a very large font were the words “RMA Anatomy Series: The Musculoskeletal System,” followed by what the stallion recognized as the insignia of the Royal Medical Academy. Six figures, two each of pegasi, unicorn and earth ponies made up the body of the poster, with three being skeletons and three being muscle diagrams.
Big Mac stared at the pegasus diagrams with fascination, still amazed as he always had been at the major differences between the pegasi and the other two pony races. Having six limbs instead of four meant that they had a second pair of shoulder blades set further back, and the bones of the wing looked for all the world like the claws of some great beast.
Below the figures were three femoral cross sections, showing the differences between the bones of the equine races. The bones of an earth pony, unsurprisingly, were solid through and through, with only small channels for arteries and veins to traverse, with marrow filling the remainder of the space. Unicorn bones, on the other hoof, were something else entirely. These were filled with a complicated arcane mesh, with strange and chaotic fractal like patterns that appeared to stretch into infinity. According to a note on the poster, these patterns varied widely between unicorns and were speculated to have to do with the nature of that particular unicorn's magic.
Unicorns, Big Mac supposed, were magical down to their very bones.
But once again, perhaps because of a certain rainbow colored mare that had barged into his life yesterday without so much as a by your leave, his eyes were drawn to the pegasus diagram.
Like the unicorn femur, there was an intricate lattice making up the internal structure of the bone itself. Unlike the unicorn bones however, the arrangement was an orderly and efficient construction, diamonds and triangles stitched together in a manner that reminded the red pony of the massive steel trusses of the Great Manehatten Bridge he had seen as a foal.
Indeed, now that he thought of it, he remembered his father remarking that the structure of all the great buildings and bridges had been inspired by pegasus bones. It was only fitting, he had said, that the pegasi had motivated the other races to reach upward towards the sky. In his minds eye Big Mac saw himself standing again beneath the great bridge, staring in awe at the massive creation woven by steel, concrete, and magic as his father spoke to him of the wonders that ponykind had made.
Before Big Mac could lose himself in the memories of his parents, the door squealed and screeched, announcing the doctor's entrance.
A lanky stallion wearing a lab coat bustled in holding a clipboard, and peered at Big Mac over the top of rather oversized square glasses.
“Ah yes, Macintosh Apple, hmm. Still having problems, da?”
“Eyup, Doctor Spetsnaz.”
Doctor Spetsnaz scribbled furiously on the clipboard. The pen was a familiar blue, and Big Mac stared at it, entranced.
“Same location of pain, same description?” He asked, pausing his savage assault on the clipboard briefly.
The farm pony shook himself.
“More intense than last time, Doctor. But Ah still hurt in the same spots.”
Spetsnaz spoke again, and resumed the attack on the wooden slab once more. He idly clicked something on the side, and Big Mac realized it was one of those new multicolored pens he had seen a few of the trinket stores carrying. A sky blue coat and rainbow mane flashed in his memory. But wasn't there something else he was going to discuss with the doctor?
“As said before, given location of pain, is not anything with internal organs. Still cannot prescribe pain medication due to allergies. Muscle pain should have cleared by now. Perhaps psychosomatic? Hmm. Am not sure what is wrong, just take it easy, da?”
Big Macintosh didn't even get a chance to reply, as the doctor's pen snapped, causing him to let out a loud curse. He then grabbed another one that had apparently been hidden behind his ear, and signed the paper with a large flourish.
Big Macintosh wondered how many clipboards and pens the former Stalliongrad pony went through each day.
Shaking himself, he finally remembered the question that had been niggling at him.
“Say doc, yesterday Ah got a massage, and it seemed ta help with the pain. Won't do any harm, will it?”
The doctor stared at him like he was stupid.
“Should have mentioned that before. Could have been important. Still, no help with diagnosis. Is simple enough, though. Massage will not do harm. As we say in Stalliongrad, if makes you feel better, then do it, da? Also, use judgment on compression bandage. If it helps, keep it, if not, then toss.” Spetsnaz then gave a rather crazy grin. “Also, massage better from pretty mare, da?”
“Wha-How?” Big Mac spluttered out.
“I am doctor. Doctors always know. No joke though, very simple: you are very, very stubborn pony. Only mare could convince you to have massage, and only pretty one distract from telling doctor important information, da? Now shoo, have other patients to see.”
With that, Big Mac found himself unceremoniously ushered out onto the street.
“Take it easy. Darn doctor don't even know his own job enough to tell me any more than common sense,” Big Mac grumbled to himself as he made his way down the thoroughly muddied street.
Soon enough, he was greeted enthusiastically by three small brown figures, whom he surmised to be the Cutie Mark Crusaders rather than diminutive mud golems bent on destruction. Though as he surveyed the sheets of mud and random gigantic rocks littering the streets, he felt that perhaps that was not quite as incorrect as one would hope it to be.
The three fillies were all chattering at once, and he couldn't understand a word they were saying. After about a minute of ceaseless racket, he cleared his throat and gestured back towards the farm.
“Ah think we should get goin' now. Unless y'all are gonna clean this up?”
With that, the three would be mud golems joined him once more. He honestly had no clue how Ponyville was going to handle the cleanup, but for the moment, he really didn't care.
He sighed. One thing was for sure though. His sides ached just as much as they had this morning.