//------------------------------// // 2. Hello, Nurse // Story: Worst Patient Ever // by Timaeus //------------------------------// “Captain Spitfire?” Spitfire continued to stare. She gawked, her mouth open and her eyes wide. “Whoa.” Those stunning blue eyes shifted to the side and got closer. “Captain? Is everything alright?” Blinking, Spitfire’s thoughts gelled back into something cohesive. She shut her jaw with a click and shook her head, an action she regretted as the pressure building behind her eyes erupted into a steady, painful throbbing. She brought her hooves up to her forehead, a more strenuous task than expected, and rubbed her forehead in small circles. “Captain,” the nurse—Redheart—said with a little more urgency colouring her tone. Spitfire’s ears flicked again at its sound. “Tell me what’s wrong.” “Nothing.” Spitfire groaned. Her voice came out in a dry rasp and her throat tickled with each word. “Spaced out a little. Head hurts.” She swallowed against her dry throat. “Thirsty.” A soft, strong hoof gently tilted her head forward, bringing her lips to the rim of a styrofoam cup. “Here, drink this. Slowly,” Redheart added as Spitfire felt the cool water trickle past her chapped lips. She swallowed the small mouthful, then another, and another. After a few swallows more, the cup was taken away and she reclined her head, exhaling in relief. Nurse Redheart stood by her bedside through it all, a patient and kind smile on her face. When Spitfire looked her way, the smile grew. “Better?” Giving a tired smile in response, she nodded. “Yeah, thanks. Nice to meet you, Redheart,” she said, her throat still sore but her voice smoother. Well, as smooth as it was going to get. “And sorry for, um, staring. Not the best introduction.” Tittering, Redheart trotted over to the end of the bed and picked up the chart hanging there. “Don’t worry, I won’t be bringing anything up to pony resources.” She winked and flipped through the chart. “I’m honestly surprised you’re as lucid as you are right now. Most ponies would be hardly as coherent, given what happened.” A familiar smirk danced its way over Spitfire’s features, the same kind she saved for pretty mares loitering alone by a bar counter. “Maybe, but I’m not nine ponies out of ten.” She returned the wink. “I’m one of a kind.” “I’m sure you must be. Why else would you be the captain of the Wonderbolts?” Redheart plucked the pen from the top of the clipboard and scribbled something on the chart. “You seem to be taking this all in stride. Not your first rodeo?” Spitfire chuckled, then winced as hot fingerlings of pain curled up her chest. Cracked ribs. Laughing was going to hurt for a little while. “You could say that,” she said, letting her eyes droop into a lidded stare. “You could also say I’m used to giving a wild ride.” “I’m not sure I want to see the kind of medical history a Wonderbolt veteran like yourself has.” Setting down her chart, Redheart flashed her another brief smile that made those pretty little eyes of hers shine before moving back to Spitfire’s bedside. “Though if it’s anything like Rainbow Dash’s, I think I have a pretty good idea.” “That sounds like the rookie,” Spitfire said, trying and failing to stop her eyes from travelling down the earth pony’s frame. It was impossible not to with how her coat seemed to glow, inviting wandering gazes to take everything in from the softness of her face, to the smooth, velvet-like texture of her fur, to the little swishes of her pink tail that drew eyes to her red cross cutie mark. Those invited a different train of thought altogether, one that her mother would twist her ear for ever entertaining. “To be perfectly honest, I’m the teensiest bit starstruck.” The shiest of smiles graced Redheart’s face as she checked Spitfire’s IV. Warm puffs of breath tickled her foreleg as the mare unwound the bandage to inspect the work. “I haven’t been to a Wonderbolt show in years. When I heard you were coming to Ponyville, I hoped I could take the time off of work to see you perform.” She sighed. “But, with the hospital being as understaffed as it is right now, that just wasn’t a possibility.” In the darkest corners of her mind, a low and smoky voice whispered in her ear. I’m sure a private show could be arranged. “That sucks,” Spitfire said, only half paying attention to what she said. The other half of her was trying desperately not to notice the subtle ways the muscles in Redheart’s flank moved as she worked. “We have another show coming up in Baltimare in a week and a bit.” Another sigh, and Redheart straightened to check the IV bag. “I’d never get the time off on such short notice.” The voice purred in her mind’s ear, and only after a second did Spitfire realize she had licked her lips. I bet I could get her of— Shaking her head, Spitfire wrinkled her muzzle and dispelled such thoughts. Injured or not, she was a high-ranking officer in the Equestrian military, holder of multiple Academy records, and the youngest captain in Wonderbolt history. Behave. “Yet here you are now! I guess dreams have a funny way of working out sometimes.” Redheart finished with her examination of the IV line and slowly began wrapping the bandage back up. As her hoof brushed Spitfire’s foreleg, she discovered it was indeed as soft as velvet. “Rainbow Dash speaks very highly of you, you know. I wish we got to meet under better circumstances.” “Mmm,” Spitfire hummed, watching her work. Her hooves moved with a confidence only experience could bring, though that same experience didn’t deter her from glancing to the side to offer a reassuring smile and a glimpse at those sparkling eyes. Care, warmth, and calm shone from within. The rest of her was really nothing to scoff at, either. Celestia, do they make all the nurses out here like this, or am I just that lucky? Redheart’s ear flicked, and she looked up. “What?” Spitfire blinked. Then, the blood drained from her face as she registered the faint look of shock on Redheart’s face. Bad mouth. Bad, stupid mouth. “I—uh—” “Captain Spitfire, did you just say what I think you said?” “Uh.” There was no anger reflected in her eyes. Neither was there any disgust, or outrage. Besides the surprise that washed out of her features in mere seconds, there was nothing there at all. The smoky voice reared its head, and Spitfire had to admit it had a point. In for a penny. “You mean that somepony upstairs must be looking out for me if I got a nurse like you at my bedside?” Straightening slowly, Redheart’s expression grew more guarded. Her smile chilled and the twinkling died in her eyes. “Excuse me?” Spitfire rolled her eyes, resisting the urge to yawn. Before her sluggish mind could stop it, her mouth started making words without her permission. “You’re hot.” Redheart stared at her, her brows flatlined. “Really now?” Nodding was difficult, but Spitfire managed it anyways. Opening her eyes after blinking was likewise a challenge. Her head fell back against the pillow propped up there, feeling like lead. “So hot,” she said, her mouth somehow making her fumbling tongue work. “Am I dreaming? You’re a dream, aren’t you.” It was a few seconds before she heard Redheart speak again. “No, you aren’t dreaming, but you will be soon,” she said from off to Spitfire’s left. Her words sounded distant, as if she were speaking from the other side of a tunnel. “It’s what’s best for you right now.” “Sweet,” Spitfire mumbled. When did she close her eyes? “Not a dream. I can dig that.” “For both our sakes, I’ll pretend this is the pain medication talking. Visiting hours are almost over anyways, so I’ll go tell your brother and sister that you woke up, but need to sleep before you’re ready to see anypony. Can’t have you making passes at your own sister in your state now, can we?” A somewhat delirious giggle slipped past her lips. This hospital had comfortable pillows, she realized, as she snuggled her head into hers. Was she still talking? “Why would anypony with you in the room?” That answered that question. That wasn’t a bad line, either. Sleep-flirting. Her hidden talent. Another sigh came from her left. “Get your sleep, Captain Spitfire. Your team will be waiting to see you in the morning.” Whatever quip that was on the tip of her tongue tumbled away with the rest of the thoughts as a blanket was pulled over her chest. A quiet grunt was all she managed before the temptation of sleep proved too strong. Her breathing came in a slow, steady rhythm and she hoped to see white again when she woke. When Spitfire woke up, she indeed saw the colour white. The off-white ceiling of her hospital room wasn’t quite what she had in mind, though. Supple curves, topped with a well-kept mane of pink was more up her alley. She exhaled, running her tongue along the roof of her mouth. It tasted like a combination of sleep and hospital air. Yeuck. “Ah, you’re awake,” a voice said from the end of her bed. A stallion’s voice, she noted. Today already seemed to be full of disappointments. “Good morning!” Groaning, she lifted her head. A light brown unicorn with a chestnut mane smiled pleasantly over Spitfire’s chart held in the cyan glow of his magic. Pushing his glasses back up his snout, he watched her through his off-green eyes as she pushed herself up into a sitting position. “Easy there, Captain,” he said in a rich voice. “You might be one of the best fliers around, but that won’t mean much if you push yourself too hard before you’re ready. A pony’s body—even your body—can only take so much.” Judging from the dress shirt and tie he wore under his lab coat and the stethoscope hanging around his neck, this was her doctor. She swallowed a sigh as she sat up on her haunches. Guess they can’t all be knockouts. His sigh didn’t have a problem coming through. “Well, if you’re going to insist on sitting up, at least take it slow.” A dry, raspy chuckle escaped her lips. “Don’t worry about me, Doc. I know my limits. Too bad slow isn’t a speed I’m familiar with.” He raised an eyebrow but otherwise didn’t comment. “Very well.” A tiny flashlight floated out of his lab coat pocket. “How are you feeling this morning?” Spitfire sat still as he shined the light in her eyes. Apparently satisfied, he nodded, smiled, and jotted something down on her chart. She blinked, red dots swimming in her vision. “To be honest, not bad, all things considered.” With a clear head, she took a deep breath. Pricklings of pain burned her sides, but she had had worse. She ruffled her good wing as her stitches itched, trying to ignore her other wing all the while. The cast that hovered in the corner of her eye made that part difficult. “That’s good to hear. You gave the town quite a shock yesterday with that crash. The way I hear it, there’s a new crater on the side of Princess Twilight’s castle.” Spitfire winced, ears pinning back. “It was that bad?” “Well, judging from your x-rays ...” He trailed off, holding a semi-translucent square up to the light. Though she was no medical professional, Spitfire had seen enough x-rays and been involved in enough accidents to know a bad break when she saw one. A knot formed in her chest as she stared at what had to be her fractured humerus. She may have seen worse, but she had also seen plenty better. She swallowed a lump in her throat and felt a little light-headed. “Oh,” was all she could manage to say. “Yes, though it’s better than it looks,” the doctor said, tucking the x-ray back into its folder. “Combine a pegasus’ natural ability to heal with our nurses’ healing touch, and your recovery time shouldn’t take that long at all.” Nodding, she slumped back. “How long?” He frowned, eyes scanning her chart. “Hard to say, but I’d wager a couple of weeks bedrest with another few weeks of no flying after that. Assuming you don’t push yourself too hard and follow our instructions, you should be back to your prime in no longer than two months!” She buried her face in her hooves and groaned long and low. “You were quite lucky, actually. It’s a good thing Wonderbolts are made of the toughest stuff in Equestria or else I might have been a little worried.” He chuckled, and Spitfire was pretty sure he winked, too. “You’ve made quite the impression on our little town, too, castle crater aside.” Royal Sisters help her, her doctor was as bad with jokes as Rapidfire was with stallions. “The way Nurse Redheart was talking this morning, you made quite the impression on her, too.” Spitfire’s ears perked up and she lifted her head. “I did? Wait.” Her eyes narrowed. “Is that a good thing, or a bad thing?” The doctor shrugged and went back to the chart, flipping through the pages. The way he waggled his ears didn’t go unnoticed, though. “That’s something for you and Nurse Redheart to decide, my good Captain.” Spitfire huffed and crossed her forelegs over her hospital gown. “Seriously?” He nodded and smiled. She had to admit, it was a pretty handsome smile. Maybe she judged too quickly. She made a mental note to ask Soarin about it later. “In any case, my name is Doctor Horse.” Spitfire’s eyebrows raced up her forehead. “Seriously?” Chuckling, he waved a hoof and set the chart down. “I know, I know. My parents had the creativity of a cardboard box when they named me.” “No kidding. You poor stallion.” “Ah well. C’est la vie.” Doctor Horse cleared his throat. “Now, if Nurse Redheart hasn’t already mentioned it to you, we're a little short staffed at the moment. Two of our physicians retired a few weeks ago, and our chief surgeon is on maternity leave. This means that the few of us left have many, many patients to attend to.” Spitfire frowned and nodded. “Yeah, makes sense. And that sucks.” The doctor chortled and pushed his glasses up his snout. “Yes, indeed it does. What this means for you is that while I will do my best to check up on you whenever I can, I’m afraid you will see relatively little of me.” At Spitfire’s nod, he continued, “However, we have taken the liberty of assigning you our best nurse. One whom you’ve already had the pleasure of meeting.” That’s one way of putting it. Spitfire hid her grin behind her hoof and feigned a cough. “Thanks, Doc. I appreciate it.” “Don’t thank me,” he said with an unreadable smile. “Thank Princess Twilight Sparkle. She made sure we assigned Nurse Redheart to you after seeing you safely to the hospital. Hard to ignore an order straight from the royalty’s mouth.” “I know the feeling,” Spitfire said, cheering on the inside. The Wonderbolts might just have gotten a new favourite princess. “And tell her thanks from me when you see her.” “She said she would be coming by to visit in the next few days, actually. I have a good feeling that you’ll be able to tell her yourself. Now, if you don’t have any questions,” he said, wrapping the doorknob to her room in the pale cyan of his magic. “There are a couple ponies here who have been waiting very patiently to see you and I don’t think I can keep them waiting any longer in good conscience.” The door swung open. Despite every sibling instinct telling her to groan, Spitfire couldn’t help but smile at the pair of ponies on the other side. Both were out of uniform and looked like they had only gotten a few hours of sleep between them. Bags darkened their bloodshot eyes and their wings were a mess, though Spitfire could feel that hers were in no better condition. They walked into the room, Blaze returning her smile with a warm and relieved one of her own. Rapidfire, however, looked green around the edges. His wings drooped low, primaries almost dragging along the floor, and guilt was etched in his features as he looked more at the floor than at Spitfire. Clearing his throat, Doctor Horse nodded to the three of them. “I’ll take my leave. So many patients, so little time. Nurse Redheart will be in to check on you in a little while.” He lingered in the doorway, looking over his shoulder with a wary gaze. “I’m sure I don’t need to tell the two of you to not tax your sister too much?” “‘Course not, Doc,” Blaze said, her voice rough and gravelly. Spitfire’s ears swivelled forward at it. It sounded like she had shouted herself hoarse. “We’ll make sure she gets plenty of rest.” Giving a satisfied smile, Doctor Horse bowed his head and left the room, closing the door behind him. Once it was closed, Blaze darted forward. Spitfire blinked as she found a pair of trembling forelegs wrapped around her shoulders, holding her gently as if she might crack and shatter. She was shocked even more when she felt a wetness on her shoulder. “B?” Blaze sniffed. “Don’t you ever do that again, you little punk of a sister.” On any other day, Spitfire would leap at the opportunity to tease her over the way her voice broke. Today, she gingerly returned the embrace and nuzzled her sister’s neck. “Okay,” she whispered, “I won’t. Promise.” “You darn near gave us all heart attacks, Spits.” Hiccoughing, Blaze pulled away and wiped her cheeks and eyes with the back of her hoof. “I saw you spinning out of control. Soarin and Fleetfoot were hot on your tail. When you hit—” She grimaced and squeezed her eyes shut. “When you crashed, Misty’s wings locked up and she dropped like a rock.” Spitfire’s ears stood on end. “Is she okay?” “What? Oh.” Blaze shook her head and rubbed her face. “She’s fine. Surprise and Wave caught her before she fell too far. She was just so shocked that she froze up. Heck, I nearly did, too. You’ve never crashed that bad before.” “Hey, look at me. B, come on.” It took a little goading, but Blaze’s amethyst eyes, made red by tears and a lack of sleep, met Spitfire’s. She went for the most reassuring smirk she knew and brushed a stray tear away with the tip of her good wing. “It’s going to take more than the crash of the century to clip my wings. I thought you knew that.” A watery laugh tumbled down Blaze’s mouth to the floor. “Yeah, Celestia knows you’re too stubborn to let a dumb huge wall of crystal crack your skull.” She sniffled and sat down in one of the two chairs next to Spitfire’s bed. Her shoulders sagged as she did, looking more worn down than she had seen her since their Academy days. “You know I actually love you, thick skull and all, right?” Snorting, Spitfire fluffed her wing, flicking the tear she collected on it away. “Jeez, I’m not dying or anything. Just a couple bumps and bruises, that’s all.” “And a broken wing. You’re grounded, Spits. Heck, you’re lucky a broken wing’s all you got.” “Temporarily grounded.” Spitfire rolled her eyes, but smiled. “I’ll be fine, Blaze. Before you know it, I’ll be whipping you slackers back into shape and flying circles around all of you.” Her grin took on a teasing edge as she said, “Best get as much with Fleet as you can, sis, because when this cast is off I’ll work you all so hard the two you won’t have the energy to crawl into bed to cuddle, let alone enjoy the sweeter things in life.” Blaze stuck out her tongue. “I can’t believe I was worried about you. Jerkface.” “Hey, I may be grounded but I’m still your Captain, Sergeant.” She blew a raspberry. “Captain Jerkface.” “That’s more like it.” Spitfire held out her hoof and allowed herself a small smile. After a second, Blaze returned it and squeezed her hoof lightly with her own. “Love you, too, you old nag.” “Yeah, well, I guess I got a little fond of you over the years.” Shaking her head, Spitfire gingerly laid back down, careful to avoid putting any weight on her wing. “Speaking of love, I’m not feeling much of it from you, Rapid. What, nothing for your grounded and bedridden beloved big sister?” Spitfire’s teasing grin slipped away when she turned towards her little brother. He sat on his haunches by the foot of her bed, head hung low and tail wrapped around his flanks. His wings drooped to the floor and, with a painstriken look on his face, refused to meet her eyes. That was a look Spitfire had seen all too often growing up on him and even more frequently at the Academy when new recruits were being disciplined. Guilt, plain and simple. A glance to her side showed Blaze looking his way, her expression guarded. Hiding something from your sister was impossible, though. Spitfire saw the disappointment and sternness seldom directed towards their ‘baby brother’ slip through the cracks when the corner of her mouth twitched and when her tail flicked a little too sharply to the side. She looked between the two of them. “Okay, what aren’t you two telling me?” Blaze jerked her head. “Go on, Rapidfire. Tell her.” Uh oh, his full name. That wasn’t a good sign. Rapidfire hunched his shoulders and made himself look as small as he could. The sheen of his sunny yellow coat seemed dull and grey around the edges. “Rapidfire,” Blaze warned. Spitfire bit her tongue as Rapidfire nodded in a short, jerky motion. Taking a deep breath, he edged closer to the bed but still well out of reach. A second or two later, he lifted his head, crumbling resolve in his eyes. He opened his mouth, then his resolve fell apart entirely. A strangled whimper came out of the back of his throat. “Rapid, come here.” Spitfire sighed and beckoned him closer. The reluctance in his eyes was plain as day, but he shuffled his hooves closer. Rolling her eyes, she beckoned again. “Closer.” This time he stopped by her other bedside, putting the bed between himself and Blaze. He shifted his weight and his eyes looked everywhere except at the other two ponies in the room. “Now,” Spitfire said, resting her hoof on his chest. The contact made him freeze and go rigid. “Tell me what’s eating at you. I’m asking you as your sister, not ordering you as your Captain.” She smirked. “Make me order you as your Captain, and you’ll be telling me while doing fifty wing-ups, understood, Private?” His ears pinned back. “Yes, ma’am,” he mumbled. “Go on, then. The Doc said not to push myself, and I’m already feeling pretty beat. Hurry up or I’ll fall asleep on you.” Nodding, he took a few more deep breaths. Then, after a couple failed attempts, he said, “It’s my fault.” “You’re going to have to be a bit more specific. Lots of things are your fault, you flying turkey.” “About the crash!” Rapidfire blurted, making Spitfire start. He sucked in a breath through his teeth, and then the words came tumbling out of his mouth. “It was all my fault and I lied to you! Something was definitely wrong with that stupid sandwich I ate the night before, and when you asked I lied and said I was fine!” “Oh.” Spitfire reclined her head, staring up at the ceiling. White calmed her, even if she was too tired to be angry. “Rapid—” “I should have said something! I shouldn’t have tried to fly, but I didn’t want to let the team down so close to our first performance in front of Princess Twilight!” He buried his face in his hooves. The sputtering of words slowed as more guilt and defeat entered his voice, weighing down each word until they fell apart to pained mumblings. “I thought I could make it through no problem, but when we got to into the routine, everything went all upside-down and woozy!” “Rapid—” “I spun out!” he cried. “I spun out and clipped your wing and the next thing I knew Firestreak was holding me aloft and you were—” he choked on his words. Hanging his head, he finished with a strangled sob. “I screwed up so bad. I’m so sorry, Spits. That was such a lame, rookie mistake.” “Darn right it was.” Blaze grumbled from the other side of the bed. Her wings twitched and flicked. “But I’ve already chewed him out plenty over it. Your turn, sis.” Spitfire sighed, the beginnings of a fresh, new headache building up pressure between her eyes. On the one hoof, Blaze was right. Any recruit who pulled a stunt as dumb as that would find themselves out of the Wonderbolts so fast their heads would spin. Any officer who did the same would be demoted and spend at least a season on suspended leave. But this wasn’t any officer. She stared at Rapidfire, long and hard, and took in the anguish on his face and the way he sat before her, tense and waiting for a verbal lashing. He knew the consequences and braced himself for them. Sometimes it was hard to tell where nepotism ended and being lenient began. “Rapidfire,” she said, drawing a wince from the stallion. “You’ve got locker room duty for the next three months.” Both he and Blaze blinked. “Um,” Rapidfire said. “What?” “Fine, make it four.” Forcing herself to sit up was a challenge, but Spitfire managed nonetheless. She tousled Rapidfire’s mane and pulled him in with as much force as she could muster into a sideways hug. “And quit tearing yourself apart over it. That’s an order.” “I—But—” “I think Blaze and the rest of the squad have grilled you enough over it, and there’s not much more I can do that you haven’t done to yourself.” Smiling through the pain, she squeezed him gently. “Even the best fliers make mistakes sometimes, Rapid.” “B-but your crash! Your wing!” Ducking out of the hug, his wings flared wide. “You should be making me wish the dogs of Tartarus were so kind!” “Feh.” Spitfire shrugged, fighting back a yawn. “Too tired. Pretty sure the Doc and Nurse would burst a blood vessel, too. Also,” she said, swatting him with her good wing, “crashing is an occupational hazard.” Chewing his lip, Rapidfire shuffled his hooves. “So, you’re really not mad?” “Not really. It’s probably the meds talking and I’m probably going to pluck you myself when I get out of here, but for the moment—whoa!” In an instant, Rapidfire had thrown his forelegs around Spitfire’s neck, squeezing none too softly and running his mouth off. She felt the tears running down his muzzle dampen her hospital gown. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I’ll never do it again!” Grimacing and gritting her teeth, Spitfire patted his back. “Yeah, okay. Please let go.” The door to her room opened and a familiar voice laughed. “Aw, look at this, Fleet. A rare moment of tender sibling love and affection!” Soarin trotted into view over Rapidfire’s shoulder. His pale blue coat was matted in a few places and his feathers were a little out of sorts. Despite it, he managed his usual, easygoing smile. “Come on, Rapid, let her go. If you wanted to finish the job, then you should’ve at least waited until there were no witnesses.” Rapidfire gave one last, thankfully softer squeeze and pulled back. He wiped his eyes with his feathers and stuck his tongue out at Soarin. “I’ll hug my sister all I want, Pieface!” Grinning, Soarin unfurled his wings and looped a hoof around Rapidfire’s neck, using the other to deliver a thorough noogie. “Oh yeah? Maybe she’s had enough of you for one day, yellow-butt!” “Ack! Hey! She’s already forgiven me, knock it off!” Struggling was useless when Soarin had you where he wanted you, but Rapidfire squirmed all the same. “And really? ‘Yellow-butt?’ That’s pathetic!” “You’re both pathetic,” Fleetfoot said as she walked around the other side of the bed. She gave Spitfire a tired but relieved smile and curled up on the bedside chair with Blaze. “Hey, Cap. Glad you’re still with us.” Like the rest of them, she looked like she had gotten little sleep as she closed her eyes and nosed her girlfriend’s cheek. Blaze returned the gesture and wrapped her wings around her. A bead of moisture built up in the corner of her eye before it was nuzzled and kissed away. The heat they usually liked to parade in front of Spitfire with wild abandon was gone, and in its place was warm affection and tenderness. Maybe they weren’t such a bad couple after all. Releasing Rapidfire, Soarin chuckled and sat on his haunches. “Yeah. I tried to tell everypony that you’d pull through no problem, but you know what these guys are like without their mama hen around to tuck them in and kiss them goodnight.” A chorus of giggles surrounded Spitfire and she huffed. “A bunch of foals, the lot of you.” “Yeah,” Rapidfire said, smoothing his mane down. Some of the cheer had returned to his voice and his feathers seemed brighter. “But we’re your foals!” “Speak for yourself.” With one wing wrapping around Fleetfoot’s shoulder, Blaze pulled their bodies flush together and breathed in her girlfriend’s scent. A content sigh drifted past her lips as a white mane nuzzled under her chin. “Some of us are quite adult, and we prefer it that way.” Fleetfoot hummed her agreement. “Amen.” “Okay, seriously you two.” Spitfire blanched. “Save it until you’re out of my hospital room. Please tell me somepony brought a deck of cards to distract the shag-birds.” Rapidfire’s ocean blue eyes narrowed, his gaze piercing. Soarin met it with a casual smirk. “You want to take your turn, sunbutt?” Eyes narrowing to slits, Rapidfire studied the older stallion’s face with an intensity Spitfire wished he showed his schoolbooks. “While we’re still young, if you don’t mind.” Spitfire hid a yawn behind her hoof, her own gaze flitting to the cards in her hoof. A jack, a ten, a three, a two, and an ace. To her left, Fleetfoot and Blaze hid their calculating grins with their cards. “Soarin,” Rapidfire said, licking his lips. “Do you have any fives?” Soarin leaned forwards, his feathers fluffed. “Go. Fish.” “Aw, come on!” Rapidfire pouted, drawing a card from the deck in the middle of the bed. “You’re not pulling a fast one on me, are you? Last I checked, you had a five when you asked Spits for one.” “That was before I snagged it,” Blaze crowed, fanning herself with her remaining two cards. “Seriously, you guys all suck at this. It’s literally the easiest card game on the planet.” “Maybe that’s the problem,” Fleetfoot groused, snout wrinkling at her cards. “Go Fish. Seriously? A deck of cards and all of the games in Equestria, and we play what has to be the most foal-friendly one of them all. At least with poker, we could have had some real fun.” “Pretty sure gambling isn’t allowed in a hospital,” Spitfire mumbled, rubbing her eye with the back of her hoof. The sun was beginning to set outside, and after a couple hours of talking Soarin had gone and found some playing cards in the cafeteria when he went on a coffee run. If she were an honest pony, she would say that she was tired. The throbbing in her wing was a constant reminder of her condition, and as time flew by it only seemed to get worse. Again, she found her thoughts coming through murky and muggy and she had to shake her head to refocus on what she held in her hoof. “We wouldn’t have to bet money!” A smirk twisted Fleetfoot’s mouth and she waggled her eyebrows. “I was thinking we’d bet favours. Or, better yet, dares.” “Come on, Fleet,” Soarin said, his voice stern. “We’re supposed to keep things chill for Spitfire. Let’s not over excite the old bird.” That drew a snort from Spitfire. “I’ll remember this, I hope you realize.” “Take your shots where you can get ‘em, Spits, that’s what Dad always said.” Blaze clicked her tongue, then faced Fleetfoot with an unreadable expression. “Okay, I’ve got an idea.” Whatever that look meant, Fleetfoot liked it. Her ears perked up and her feathers ruffled. “I’m listening.” “You want to make this a little more interesting? Well, how about the first one of the two of us that gets out gets to ask a favour from the other.” A throaty chuckle slipped past Blaze’s lips and she extended a wing to trace along the other mare’s hind leg. “Anything. She. Wants.” A noticeable shudder travelled down Fleetfoot’s spine. She swallowed. “A-anything?” “Mmhmm. Name it, and it’s yours. What do you say, tiger?” Spitfire rolled her eyes and propped her head up on her hoof, lazily looking over her cards. Here we go. Fleetfoot licked her lips and grinned wide. “I say, got any sevens, ma’am?” “Mmm, I love it when you get all competitive. Here you go.” Her grin growing and her wings trembling, Fleetfoot set the pair of cards down. With two cards left in hoof, she turned on Spitfire. “Hey, Cap, please, please, please tell me you have a king.” “Well ...” Spitfire looked down at her hoof. She knew very well she didn’t have a king, but watching her fastest sergeant squirm with anticipation was too tempting to pass up. Eventually, she grinned. “Go fish.” “Which makes it my turn,” Blaze said, holding her single card between her primaries. She fixed Fleetfoot with a half-lidded stare and said without looking at him, “Rapid, hand me that five, will you?” Fleetfoot’s jaw dropped as both Soarin and Rapidfire threw their heads back and laughed. “You got it! Enjoy Flatfoot!” Flicking the card to the bed, Blaze leaned in so that her breath washed over Fleetfoot’s ear. “Looks like I win, tiger. Know what that means?” She leaned in closer and whispered something Spitfire couldn’t catch. All things considered, she was pretty confident that she didn’t want to know. As Blaze pulled away, she nipped at Fleetfoot’s ear and sat back with a satisfied smile on her face. Fleetfoot, for her part, didn’t look so unhappy at having lost. Soarin cleared his throat. “Anyways, you know that doctor of yours, Spitfire?” Spitfire’s ears perked, ready to pounce on the change in conversation. “Doctor Horse, yeah. What about him?” “Well, Surprise and I bumped into him down in the cafeteria. He was sneaking in a cup of coffee and a muffin between patients. Nice guy, and you were totally right to ask me to check him out.” Baring her teeth in a wicked little smile, Spitfire chuckled. “Oh yeah? What’s your report, Lieutenant?” Soarin’s wings snapped to his sides as he stood to attention. “Surprise’s words were, and I quote, ‘if he wasn’t married with two foals, Captain, I would’ve been forced to abandon my post for the sake of tying him down to another one somewhere.’” Spitfire snickered. “Really? That good? I thought he had a pretty cute smile, but the dangly bits are a pretty big turnoff for me.” “Well, from what Surprise said, they were big enough to be a turn on for her when she snuck a peek.” Soarin winked and fluffed his feathers. “I don’t know what they put in the food around here, Captain. But whatever it is, for the good of Equestria I recommend we bring it with us to Cloudsdale and Canterlot. It’s simply unfair to the rest of the country.” “That, and I’m pretty sure I saw Surprise’s knees knocking when the Doc smiled at her downstairs!” Rapidfire chirped. “She almost drooled all over the forms the secretary got us to fill out!” “Speaking of drooling,” Spitfire said, eyes flitting back to Blaze and Fleetfoot. “Blaze, remember what you told me on the train?” “You’re going to have to be a little more specific.” Setting Fleetfoot’s wings aflutter with a smoky glare, she swished her tail from side to side. “My memory’s a little hazy, especially after you left.” Oh, for Celestia’s sake. Maybe Rapidfire had a point. Maybe these two did get off to her being in the room. “The stuff about me finding a mare.” That caught Blaze’s attention. She blinked, eyes widening, and looked over to Spitfire. “Yeah, what about it?” Spitfire smirked and waggled her eyebrows. “No way.” Grinning, Blaze hopped off her chair. “Who? When?” Smirk turning foxlike, Spitfire cocked her head to the side and addressed the stallions in the room. “Hey, Rapid, what would you peg that nurse as?” Rapidfire scrunched up his muzzle and flicked one ear down. “Which one?” “The white one. Earth pony, pink mane.” Spitfire hummed in the back of her throat. “Seven kinds of svelte and curvy with blue eyes with a red cross cutie mark. You’d have to be blind to miss her.” “Nurse Redheart, right?” Rapidfire scratched his chin. “Yeah, she showed us to your room. Really gentle voice. I’d give her a solid eight out of ten on a bad day.” “And on a good day?” Rapidfire seemed to consider this for a moment. “Woof?” Spitfire supplied. “Yeah.” Rapidfire nodded, his grin matching Spitfire’s. “Woof.” “She was a sight to wake up to, let me tell you.” And she did, all eyes in the room on her. “I think she’s a fan, too. That always helps break the ice. Also makes them a little more eager, wouldn’t you say, Soarin?” “You know,” Blaze said, frowning. “When I told you to ‘find yourself a mare,’ I’m pretty sure I also said little flings and nights of fun didn’t count. You serious about this one or are you just looking for some Ponyville booty to score here, Spits?” “I can tell you what I am serious about, and that’s—” Spitfire’s jaw clicked shut as the door opened. When she saw who entered, her mouth fell to a warm, sultry smile and she fluffed up the feathers on her good wing as much as possible. With a low purr accentuating her voice, she said, “Speak of the devil.” “I’m sorry to break up the fun,” Nurse Redheart said as she walked into the room. “But I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask all of you to leave and let Captain Spitfire get her rest.” If she noticed the five pairs of eyes watching her trot over to the window, she didn’t show it. Instead, as she stood up on her hind legs to grab the drawstring in her teeth, Spitfire caught Rapidfire’s eye and nodded at the mare. He looked over, then back at his sister. Spitfire tore her gaze away from the interesting ways the muscles of her flanks moved to raise an eyebrow. Rapidfire nodded his consent. “Woof indeed,” he whispered. “Too late to call dibs?” Spitfire raised the other eyebrow. “Can’t blame a stallion for trying.” With the blinds closed, Redheart slipped between Soarin and Rapidfire to Spitfire’s bedside, offering a smile as she did so. “You’ve all been here long past regular visiting hours already, and I really must insist that you let the good Captain get the rest that she needs.” A devious twinkle entered Rapidfire’s eye, one that Spitfire did not like one bit. “Aw, come on.” He whined, sticking out his lower lip and drooping his ears back. “Five more minutes?” “No, no.” Redheart shook her head and rested a gentle hoof on Spitfire’s shoulder, sending a tingle down the pegasus’ foreleg. “I’ve already bent the rules enough so that you all could spend some more time with her. Now she needs to sleep.” “Pretty please?” The corner of Rapidfire’s mouth twitched and his eyes flicked between the other Wonderbolts in the room. They blinked. Then, in unison, the same mischievous sheen sparkled in their eyes. Spitfire’s eyes locked on to Soarin’s and she mouthed, “Don’t you dare.” Soarin shrugged and waggled his ears. Take the hits where you can. “No,” Redheart insisted. “She needs sleep, and the four of you need to go.” “Just a few more minutes!” Soarin pouted, doing his best to look like a big, green-eyed puppy. “We like our pain in the ass captain!” “Hey!” Fur bristling, Spitfire tried to sit up. “I’m sitting right here, you know!” Redheart’s hoof held firm, however, keeping her on her back. A glance from the nurse doused the fire in her voice and she found herself easing back on her bed. “No, we should listen to the pretty nurse,” Fleetfoot said, leading Blaze around to stand with the stallions. Sighing, she held a hoof up to her forehead. “She must be so tired, but I can already hear her grating, raspy voice now.” “I’m literally in the room with you good-for-nothing flying featherheads.” Spitfire grumbled, Redheart’s hoof gently squeezing her shoulder. “Fleet’s right!” Tilting her head to the side, a smirk danced over Blaze’s face as mirth shone in her eyes. “It must be our close, sisterly bond, but I can hear her pining for us right this very moment.” “Same here!” Rapidfire’s pout had long given way for a toothy grin. He cupped a hoof around his ear. “She’s saying, ‘No, don’t leave me, Rapidfire! How can I possibly go on without my amazingly talented and good-looking brother and sister?” Soarin cleared his throat. “I wasn’t done yet! I was just about to get to how she desperately needs her ruggedly handsome lieutenant to fix all her blunders and the always minxy Fleetfoot to inspire her to be the captain the team deserves!” “Damn straight.” Chuckling, Blaze turned her head to nuzzle along Fleetfoot’s jawline. “What do you say, tiger, a kiss right here in loving memory of our forsaken Captain?” “Mmm. Yes, ma’am.” Blaze purred. “Then let’s make it a—yeowch!” Perking her ears, Spitfire lifted her head and did nothing to stop the smile from flooding her face at the sight of Redheart twisting Blaze’s ear. The latter struggled and writhed with everything she could to wrench herself free. “None of that!” Redheart scolded, letting her go just as she gave a sharp tug. With a stern, even glare that cowed even Blaze and Fleetfoot, she watched as the goldenrod mare stumbled a couple steps back. “This is a hospital, and Wonderbolt or not I will not allow you to cause any of my patients any discomfort. Is that understood?” “Ma’am, yes, ma’am!” Blaze squeaked, holding her ear. Dear Luna, Spitfire thought, staring up at Redheart with a slacked jaw. I think I’m in love. “Good.” Redheart exhaled, her glare softening. When she spoke, it was with the same tenderness that she had when Spitfire first woke up. “You’re all worried about her, I know. But, the best thing for her right now is sleep. She’ll be here in the morning and you can come back then.” “Yeah,” Spitfire said, smirking at the varying looks of shock and awe on her teammates’ faces. “Besides, you’ll all get sick of my backseat flying when we're at the next arena. If you think I’m bad in the air, then wait until I start bellyaching from the ground.” A beat of silence fell over the room. All of a sudden, none of her friends and teammates met her eyes, but instead found interest in the floor or the walls. Redheart looked over her shoulder at her, her expression confused. “Pardon?” “You know,” Spitfire said, a little more wary as Rapidfire tried to edge closer to the door. “When I check out of here tomorrow and when we’re on the train to Baltimare?” Fleetfoot coughed. Blaze ruffled her wings. “You didn’t tell her.” Redheart’s brows flatlined and she turned her piercing blue eyes on the four of them. Spitfire couldn’t deny her amusement as they all shrunk away like scolded foals. “After you insisted you be the ones to tell her and after all that time, you still haven’t told her.” Soarin shuffled his hooves and scratched his neck. “Well, now that you’re here ...”