Spitfire woke from her mid-morning doze to the sound of pen on paper. Her ear flicked at the light clip-clop of hooves on the floor circling her bed.
A perfect way to start the day. What better way to test the waters than with an innocent bit of banter? She grinned inwardly and hummed as she fluttered her eyes open. “Now isn’t that a pretty sight to wake up to.”
The deeper chuckle of a stallion’s voice reached her ears. “Well, that just made my day! Do you flatter all of your doctors like this, Captain, or am I just special?”
Eyes snapping open, Spitfire lifted her head in the direction of the voice as quickly as her body would allow. There, standing at the foot of her bed, was a unicorn stallion. His blue-bordering-on-green eyes twinkled behind his glasses. An amused grin poked out over the top of her chart held aloft in his magic. Laughter creased the corner of his eyes and his frame shook ever-so-slightly.
With a groan, Spitfire flopped her head back on her pillow.
“Please, stop. You’ll make me blush!”
“You’re not Red,” Spitfire grumbled, arching her neck enough to frown at Doctor Horse. It was too early and her body too sore for anypony to be this cheery. “And you’re not that funny.”
Chuckling, he ran his hoof down his foreleg, rubbing the fur of his shin. “Well, you’re right about one thing. I’m definitely not red—I’m really more of a light brown, or an amber if you want to be romantic about it. Also,” he clicked his pen and slid it into chest pocket, a small, playful pout playing over his face, “I’m a riot. Everypony loves my sense of humour. I’m quite confident you are just suffering the side-effects of too much medication to appreciate my sharp wit properly.”
“Yeah, yeah. Har, har, Doc.” Spitfire rolled her eyes, staring up at the ceiling. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her smile. Once committed, any Wonderbolt worth their salt could hold up a good grump. “Where’s Red—er, Nurse Redheart?”
“Aha. I had a feeling that might be who you meant when you woke up.” Clicking his tongue much like his pen, he walked to her bedside and slid his glasses down to the end of his snout. “Getting a little friendly with our best nurse, hmm?”
His gaze felt unnervingly analytical, as if she were a specimen under his microscope. The sensation made the skin at the nape of her neck crawl and the hair stand on end. Stupid doctors. “Can you blame me? She’s pretty awesome at her job and has been really great about looking after me.”
The events of yesterday floated to the surface. One of Redheart’s hooves on her back, the other tending to her wing, and her voice soothing and calming her. Her feathers fluffed at the memory before the pain in her other wing grounded her feelings in sobriety. She cleared her throat, brushing her hoof down her cast with a ginger touch.“It’s nice to have somepony I can count on while my team’s gone.”
“Mmhmm.” Doctor Horse held his gaze for a few seconds longer before he nodded and stepped to the side, a pleasant smile on his muzzle. “I suppose that’s true! Nurse Redheart does have that effect on ponies. It’s good to see you two starting to get along.” Something—amusement?—twinkled in his eye. “I’ll admit I was a little worried when I saw her fuming after checking up on you the other day. Thought I would have to start supervising or assign another nurse!”
Coughing into her hoof, Spitfire glanced to the side. It looked to be a clear, sunny day in Ponyville. A breeze swayed the branches in the trees and her uninjured wing started to unfurl, yearning to feel that same wind. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t being the best patient.”
“I believe I heard her grumble ‘worst patient ever’ in the cafeteria,” he said, his mouth twisting into a wry grin. “Well, not so much of a grumble as it was a barely-restrained shout.”
Spitfire winced and scratched the back of her head. Too soon she felt the same weight of shame and guilt from yesterday settle in the pit of her stomach, dampening her mood and making her insides squirm. “I’m just glad she’s giving me another chance and isn’t holding any grudges.”
Doctor Horse chuckled again and shook his head. “I don’t think that mare could hold a grudge against anypony for long. It’s not in her to hate, but she’s a firecracker of a mare if I’ve ever seen one. Now,” he cleared his throat, his tone shifting from jovial to something more businesslike. “Hold still while I examine your wing. I heard you had a nasty little fall yesterday.”
Another wince, this time accompanied by the drooping of her ears, shook Spitfire’s frame. “You caught wind of that, huh?”
“Most of the staff has, Captain. I’m quite surprised Nurse Redheart didn’t insist on restraints given how much you’ve driven her up the wall.” Laughing at his own joke—again—a pale blue light enveloped Doctor Horse’s horn. The same glow surrounded Spitfire’s broken wing, bringing with it an uncomfortable itching sensation.
Doing her best not to fidget or twitch as he worked through whatever spell he was casting, Spitfire focused instead on his words. Restraints? Her other wing twitched, but not in the good way. There had been fury in Redheart’s eyes more than once, but had she really pushed her that far?
No. Well, yes, but no longer. A clean slate, that’s what Spitfire promised, and a Wonderbolt always delivered.
Still, finding a way to make it up to Redheart couldn’t hurt her chances.
The itching sensation vanished, drawing Spitfire back to the present. “All done,” Doctor Hose said with a satisfied nod of his head. “Looks like no further damage has been done to your wing since that fall of yours yesterday. You’re quite the lucky mare, and even luckier Nurse Redheart was so close by to help you back to your bed.”
“No kidding.” Spitfire sighed and stroked the cast around her wing. A thought prickled at the back of her mind and she frowned. “She examined my wing and said as much yesterday, though. Why’re you redoing work she already did?”
Doctor Horse raised his hoof, a placating smile on his face. “Now, now, it’s not as if I doubt Nurse Redheart’s ability. She’s impeccable and rarely ever wrong when it comes to her patients. That being said, there are some things a unicorn’s horn can do that hooves simply cannot manage.”
And there are a few things her hooves can do that your itchy magic can’t even dream of. Spitfire thought back to the warmth that radiated from Redheart’s hooves, seeping into her fur and her muscles. Her tail swished at the feeling, but she held her tongue.
“I would eat my stethoscope if Nurse Redheart missed something like another fracture or needing to re-set the bones in your wing,” Doctor Horse continued. Blinking, Spitfire forced herself to focus on what he was saying, not on the memory of Redheart’s breath tickling her fur as she worked on her wing or the shiver down her spine it produced. “However, there might have been some damage done on a smaller scale, which is where a couple spells learned in the first semester at medical school come in handy.”
“Oh. Well, cool.” Offering a polite smile, Spitfire pushed herself onto her haunches, ignoring the strain across her body. She leaned back against her pillows, grunting as she said, “Thanks, Doc.”
Doctor Horse nodded and crossed the room to the door. “Of course, Captain Spitfire. I’ll be in to check up on you later.” He lingered in the doorway with his hoof on the knob. He flashed a knowing grin over his shoulder. “Though, from the sound of things, you would much rather I have Nurse Redheart come to check up on you from now on.”
Spitfire’s ears perked up. Well, there was no point in beating around the bush. “If it were you lying here, what would you prefer? Amazing nurse, or doctor dude?”
“Careful, Captain,” he warned. “I’m sure I don’t have to warn you not to get on Nurse Redheart’s bad side.”
Snorting, Spitfire said, “I can behave when I want to.”
Laughing, Doctor Horse shook his head. “I’ll make sure to tell her that you were hoping to see her. Have a good day, Captain.”
Once he was gone, Spitfire rested her head against the headboard. Lolling to the side, she watched the ponies going about their business outside, far beyond the walls in her room. She sighed as the wind blew a stray leaf to her window and a new itch formed at the base of her wings.
It was the kind of itch that could only be scratched by taking to the sky.
Lunch had come and gone, yet still there was no sign of Nurse Redheart.
As the minutes ticked by and became an hour, then two, Spitfire found herself scowling at the door. Patience was not her strong suit, but still she waited, waited for it to open, waited for the chime of Redheart’s voice, and waited for her piercing blue eyes to find her. Maybe, if she was lucky, those eyes would light up with a smile.
With an impatient flick of her tail, Spitfire huffed and looked out the window. The day, as far as she could tell, had indeed been lovely. As the sun made its way across the sky over the afternoon, nary a cloud was seen. A light wind continued to make the trees sway delicately, teasing her with the promise of flight and freedom, two things she would be lacking for the near future.
Huffing again, she directed her gaze back to the neutral blue of the hospital room wall. The very least the universe could do would be to give her some company or something to do.
As if hearing her plea, the sound of hooves outside her door made her ears twitch. A second later, the door swung open and Redheart’s smiling face poked its way in. Her eyes twinkled. “Knock, knock!”
Thank you, Royal Sisters.
“There you are,” Spitfire said, matching Redheart’s smile with a grin. It quickly fell to a playful pout as she pushed herself up. “You’ll check up on me at lunch time, huh? I was starting to think that you forgot about me.”
“Believe me, I couldn’t if I tried.” Redheart chuckled, pulling an empty wheelchair in behind her as she backed into the room. “You’ll have to forgive me. Today was a tad more trying than I expected.” She sighed, tensing her shoulders as that sigh morphed into a yawn. “This is the earliest I could find time to slip up here to check on you, but I hear Doctor Horse came in this morning.”
Spitfire tilted her head to the side, eyes flitting from the wheelchair to Redheart. Her unvoiced question went unanswered as the nurse pushed the chair against the wall and all but collapsed into one of the more comfortable chairs next to the bed. “Yeah, completely unnecessary, by the way. I tried to tell him your work was impeccable, but he insisted on doing some magic scan himself.”
“He was just doing his due-diligence.” A tired chuckle tumbled past Redheart’s lips. Though she hid it well, the beginnings of bags were forming under her eyes as she rubbed at them. “How has your day been, Spitfire? Any new aches or pains I should be aware of?”
“Today’s been a big ball of nada, Red.” A wry grin slithered over Spitfire’s muzzle. Light flirting counted as behaving. Probably. “Better though now that you’re here. Though, I gotta ask,” she said, gesturing to the wheelchair, “what’s with the chair?”
“It’s for you.” A soft laugh drew Spitfire’s attention back to Redheart. Straightening the nurse’s cap on her head, she stretched out her forelegs before hopping back to her hooves. The sag was gone from her shoulders in an instant and her smile no duller than it was the moment they met. “I figured you might be going a little stir crazy by now, so I thought a change of pace was in order.”
“Okaaaay,” Spitfire said slowly, trying to keep the feathers on her good wing from fluffing as Redheart neared. Even when tired, her eyes sparkled, luring both unsuspecting and suspecting ponies in. “But what does that have to do with me and a wheelchair?”
“How else do you propose I get you down to the cafeteria?” With a grin wry enough to match Spitfire’s own, Redheart stepped to the side. “I’m certainly not going to carry you.”
Biting her tongue, Spitfire chose to focus instead on the first half of what Redheart said. “Cafeteria, huh?” Behave, Blaze told her. For now, she would. “What’s down there?”
“Your dinner, for starters. I thought you might want a change of scenery after spending the last few days in here. The cafeteria isn’t exactly all that pleasant to look at, but it is different.”
Spitfire’s ears perked up. “Different is good.”
“And then, if you’re feeling up to it, we could take a little walk around the hospital grounds. Nothing too strenuous of course, and I doubt we’d get very far, but the fresh air will do you good.” Redheart’s expression softened and she rested a hoof on the bedspread. “I saw how you were looking out the window yesterday. I know you want to be back up in the sky. This isn’t flying, but I thought you could at least feel the wind in your mane.”
“Really?” Spitfire blinked, turning her head back to the window. The sky all but called to her and she swallowed past a sudden lump in her throat. She resisted the urge to seek out Redheart’s hoof. Comfort, that’s all it was. Not an offer. Behave. “Are you sure you’re not breaking hospital policy or something?”
“I’m pretty sure I’d know if I was.” The sound of a hoof dragging on fabric reached Spitfire’s ears. Redheart pulling away, then. “You’re not in any critical condition, and it’s important for you to move around some while you’re healing. I don’t see any reason why that can’t be outside.”
Shifting her weight, Spitfire felt her good wing twitch. Outside. She closed her eyes, imagining the feel of the sun on her face and inhaled deeply, deciding on what the air outside would taste like. Not sterile, like the air in the hospital. Something more fragrant, perhaps? Maybe like the apple orchards nearby? There was only one way to find out.
With a bright smile, she looked back at Redheart. “Who am I to argue?” With great care, she sat up. Aches and pains rolled over her body, making her the tip of her tail twitch and flick. Jaw set, she swiveled around until her hind legs dangled off of the bed. “Anything to get me out of this cage.”
“Something told me you might approve.” Sparing a moment to squeeze her shoulder, Redheart whisked across the room to the wheelchair. Even though her hospital gown, the warmth of the touch sparked a tingling feeling deep in Spitfire's chest that radiated over her frame, numbing a little of the ache.
She blinked, however, when Redheart pushed the wheelchair to the foot of the bed. A frown pulled at Spitfire’s lips as the earth pony mare positioned herself within easy reach. “Do I have to sit in that? I could just walk.”
“You’re in no condition to walk the whole way. And even if you were, after yesterday’s little escapade?” Redheart arched a brow. “I don’t think so.”
Spitfire pouted, opening her mouth to argue. The combination of the look on Redheart’s face and the glimpse of her cast in the corner of her eye made her stop short. Slowly, she closed her mouth. After running her tongue over her lips, she folded her ears back and nodded.
“Thank you,” Redheart said, her voice soft. Spitfire felt her hoof on her shoulder again, bringing that tingling feeling back with it, and followed it as it gently started to guide her off of the bed. “Take it easy, now. Nice and slow.”
Feeling again like a scolded filly, Spitfire slid herself down to the floor. Her knees wobbled as she adjusted her balance. With Redheart at her side, steadying her until she had her footing, she made it down from the bed to the wheelchair.
“That’s it, step by step,” Redheart said, her encouragement a welcome distraction to the otherwise feebleness that made every step slow and arduous.
Soon, Spitfire found herself being lowered down into the chair. She exhaled once her flank hit the seat. “Thanks,” she mumbled.
Redheart just smiled her warm, calming smile before walking around behind the chair. Spitfire tried to let herself relax and unknot the tension in her shoulders as she was wheeled out of her room and down the long hospital hallway, painted the same pale blue as her room.
The smell of disinfectant followed them down to the elevator. Other doctors and nurses walked past them between rooms, sparing a nod and a soft-spoken greeting before returning to their duties. With each glance directed her way, Spitfire squared her shoulders and sat up her tallest, ignoring the protest from her ribs and hiding her nerves with a cool nod in return.
It simply wouldn’t do for the Captain of the Wonderbolts to look otherwise. She may be battered, but she wasn’t beaten. Ponies couldn’t see that she was beaten, not even in a hospital. Strength, pride, courage. These were the qualities of a Wonderbolt, and it was these qualities that kept her chin up until the elevator doors closed, leaving her alone with Redheart as they descended to the ground floor.
Exhaling, she let her shoulders sag, nearly jumping when Redheart’s hoof brushed against her foreleg.
“Spitfire, are you okay?”
Those dazzling blue eyes shone with something Spitfire didn’t much like the look of. Concern fogged them over, blanketing their usual warmth with sympathy and something more distant. That had to go.
“Yeah, I’m good,” Spitfire said with a shake of her head. Massaging her forehead with one hoof, she used the other to wave off Redheart’s worry. “Head’s spinning a little. Guess I’m not used to moving around much.”
“Are you sure you’re feeling up to this?” Redheart’s face filled her vision as she leaned down in front of the wheelchair. Spitfire must not have waved her hoof hard enough. “We can just go back to your room if you’re not.”
Under her piercing gaze, there was little Spitfire could do. “It’s not that,” she mumbled, fidgeting in her seat. Without Redheart’s help, there was little doubt in her mind that she would make it halfway down the hall at most before needing a break or collapsing.
“Then what is?” Lifting her chin, Redheart’s gaze met Spitfire’s, and she was held captive by it once more. “Tell me.”
Despite herself, Spitfire’s chin trembled. “I don’t know,” she whispered more than said. “It’s nothing.” She shook her head. “Just not used to moving around this much?”
Redheart’s hoof, shaken free from her chin, found new purchase on Spitfire’s shoulder. “You can tell me, Spitfire. What’s really bothering you?”
Chewing on the corner of her lip, Spitfire shifted in the wheelchair. “I really don’t know.”
“Then guess.” At the sound of her voice, Spitfire looked up, trapped again by Redheart’s eyes. She tilted her head to the side, her smile genuine and true. “I won’t tell anypony. Not Doctor Horse, not your team, nopony.”
Spitfire’s ears splayed back against her scalp as the tip of her good wing started to tremble. “I don’t like this,” she said as the elevator started to slow. “Feeling weak, like a newborn kitten. Can’t even walk across my room to get a glass of water.” As she spoke, her wing drooped in time with hear ears. Some part of her holding strong started to bend and fold, leaving a collapsing feeling in her chest. “It’s ... yeah.”
“It’s all part of the healing process.” A pearly white hoof found her foreleg and gave a soft squeeze. Spitfire focused on it, letting its soft, warm fur tether her thoughts away from her mind. “You’ll be back up, flying circles around the best of pegasi soon.”
This time, Spitfire let herself rest her hoof atop Redheart’s—not as a gesture of romance or companionship, but as a patient looking for help and comfort. “I’m not sure if I should be missing my team or grateful that they’re not here to see me like this.”
“Everypony’s allowed to be weak sometimes, Spitfire. Even the captain of the Wonderbolts. You don’t always have to be strong, not in front of me.” Both of their ears flicked as the elevator doors opened with a chipper ding. “Nopony here is going to judge you, and if they do, I’ll have a stern word with them.”
A small smile flickered over Spitfire’s muzzle as Redheart pushed her out of the elevator. “Thanks, Red.”
A soft chuckle met her ears. “Anytime, Spitfire.”
Ponyville General’s cafeteria wasn’t unlike many of the other cafeterias Spitfire had visited across Equestria. Long tables filled the room, leaving enough space for ponies and wheelchairs to move between them. As the late afternoon turned to an early evening, few ponies filled the seats, leaving the room feeling considerably empty.
What ponies were still in the cafeteria at this hour sat alone or in small groups—family or friends of patients, if Spitfire had to guess. A cluster of nurses and doctors, nursing cups of coffee and picking at their plates, sat at a corner table, seeking reprieve before the night shifts on call began in earnest.
Her appearance raised a few heads and drew hushed mutterings as ponies tried and failed to steal a hidden glance at her, as if doubting that she was really there. Spitfire sighed as she propped her head on her hoof. Some things never change. While Redheart busied herself with getting their dinners, she let her gaze wander around the cafeteria. Whenever she crossed eyes with one of the other visitors, they were quick to drop their heads to their plates or duck behind their newspapers and magazines.
Spitfire rolled her eyes at them, tail flicking behind her. Fans.
“And here we go,” Redheart said as she sauntered over to the table, balancing two trays on her back. With a small, pleasant smile, she slid both trays onto the table and settled into the seat across from Spitfire. “Everything a mare needs to get healthy again.”
“Thanks. You guys have some great food down here,” Spitfire said, lifting her head off of her hoof as she looked at her dinner. A pasta salad, complete with chunks of cheese, nuts, pieces of broccoli, carrots, and chickpeas, made her mouth water. The farm-fresh apple was no real dessert, but she would have to make do.
“Everything’s locally grown. Some of the best farmers in Equestria live in Ponyville and sell their produce to the hospital at a discount.” A frown that didn’t quite meet Redheart’s eyes tugged at her lips as she stared at Spitfire’s tray. Then, with a theatrical sigh, she sat back and shook her head. “Oh dear, did I forget your dessert?”
Spitfire blinked, hoof hovering over her apple. “Huh?”
“Oh, well. I guess you’ll just have to have mine, then.” The frown vanished in favour of a playful grin as Redheart moved a plastic cup from her tray to Spitfire’s.
Spitfire blinked again at the pudding cup. “But I thought you said I had all of my pudding cup rights suspended?”
“You do.” Redheart winked and speared some of her salad on her fork. “That isn’t your pudding, though, is it? It’s mine, and I’m choosing to let you have it just this once. You were looking so glum sitting here that I thought you could use something sweet to lift your spirits.”
Oh, you have no idea, hon. Before her mouth could betray her, she took a bite out of her apple. Once disciplined, she smiled, nodding in thanks. Behave, for Celestia’s sake!
“Don’t expect me to give up my pudding every day,” Redheart warned, smiling as she lifted her fork to her mouth. “I just happened to be feeling generous tonight.”
Spitfire snorted around her mouthful.
Redheart hesitated just as she was about to bite down. “What?”
Swallowing, Spitfire shook her head and chuckled, holding her apple up to the light. “Sorry, it’s just that the way you said that made it sound like you could be something other than generous. That doesn’t sound like the Red I know.”
“You hardly know me as it is, Spitfire.” Redheart arched a brow as she chewed her salad. “I doubt you’re in the position to call me anypony you know.”
Spitfire arched a brow in return, throwing a sly grin into the mix. “Please, I’ve worked with ponies long enough to know a genuine pony when I see one. You’re the real deal—patient, kind, generous, and easy on the eyes.”
Redheart’s other brow arched. “Careful.”
“I’m naught but an honest mare,” Spitfire said, holding her hoof over her heart. For the moment, the pain in her wing was forgotten. “I, on the other hand, am a mystery.”
“Really, now?” Redheart deadpanned. The corner of her eyes wrinkled as she hid her smile with another mouthful of salad. That was all Spitfire needed.
Smirking, she put her apple down and steepled her hooves. “How could I be anything else? Captain of the Wonderbolts, one of the most famous mares in the world, travelled all over Equestria and beyond—the press would kill for my life story.”
“Is that a fact?” Humming while she chewed, Redheart swallowed and nodded. “Okay, I’ll nibble.”
With a fluff of her feathers, Spitfire smirked. “Ask away. Anything is fair game.”
“Anything at all? All right, let’s see ...” Trailing off with another hum, Redheart turned to look out the window. The thatched roofs of Ponyville spread out before them, the picture of a quaint, small, sleepy little town. Spitfire watched as a slow smile spread over her muzzle. “You said that you’ve been all over Equestria. I think I would like to hear about that.”
Spitfire’s smirk faltered as her brow furrowed. “Wha—really? That’s pretty tame.” Wrinkling her muzzle, she followed Redheart’s gaze outside. “Usually ponies ask about other stuff, but sure. If that’s what you want to hear about.”
“It is,” Redheart said, turning back to her. Mischief danced in her eyes as she showed her teeth in a cat-like grin. “And how many other ponies is ‘usually?’ Don’t tell me this is how you try and butter a mare up.”
Puffing out her cheeks, Spitfire tried not to look like a foal caught with her hoof in the cookie jar. Tail flicking behind her, she crossed her forelegs over her chest. “Please, as if that kind of stuff would work on you.” That seemed to satisfy Redheart as she nodded. “So, what did you want to hear about specifically?”
Redheart stared at her salad for a long moment, pushing rotini noodles around her plate with her fork. “I don’t tend to travel a lot outside of Ponyville,” she said, an undertone of longing seeping into her voice. Its sound perked Spitfire’s ears up. “My work keeps me here most of the time. Whenever I do get a chance to get away, it’s usually for a day trip to Manehattan with the girls. I’ve never really been anywhere.” She shrugged, a half-smile playing over her lips. “Sometimes I wonder what it’d be like to go to Fillydelphia, or the Crystal Empire, or Griffonstone, but that’ll never happen. Sometimes I wonder what I might be missing out on out there.”
“Never’s a long time, Red. A lot can happen.” Ducking her head to catch Redheart’s eyes, Spitfire put on an easy smile. To her delight, it was returned. “If you want to go somewhere, go. From the sound of things, this Payroll guy who runs your bills would love for you to take some vacation time.”
Redheart giggled, a wonderful sound. “If I decided to do that, I don’t even know where I’d start.”
“Maybe I can help with that.” Spitfire spread her hooves wide, an open invitation. “Fillydelphia, the Crystal Empire, Griffonstone.” She tilted her head with a smirk. “Which do you want to hear about first?”
“You’ve been to all of those places?”
Spitfire arched her brow.
“Right, dumb question. Of course you have.” Redheart chuckled, rolling her eyes, and then fell silent. Spearing a piece of broccoli on her fork, she chewed slowly, tail flicking behind her. “Well ...”
“Well?” Spitfire leaned over the table, waiting as Redheart rubbed her foreleg.
“You’ll probably think it’s boring, but I think I’d like to hear about Cloudsdale.”
“Cloudsdale?” Falling back in her seat, Spitfire frowned. “Know it like the back of my hoof. Why there, though?”
“Because I’ve never been.” Flicking her ear, Redheart glanced to the side. If Spitfire didn’t know any better, she’d call her smile shy. “All of those other places are places I could go to one day. The Crystal Empire is just a train ride away, after all. Cloudsdale, though.”
“A little harder to get to unless you have wings,” Spitfire said, unfurling her uninjured wing. “I get what you mean. Although, if you know the right mare, that might not be such a problem.”
The shyness evaporated from Redheart’s face. Her lips fell into a thin line as she looked back at Spitfire. “Please don’t.”
Waggling her ears, Spitfire regarded her nurse with a half-lidded stare. “All I’m saying is that seeing Cloudsdale from high up is breathtaking. The liquid rainbow waterfalls catching the sun as it’s just peeking over the horizon ...” Fluffing her feathers, she drew her wing around her side. “But it can get pretty cold that high up, especially if you’re not a pegasus. If you’ve got a mare willing to hold you tight and keep you warm, then you definitely shouldn’t pass it up.”
“I’m starting to regret asking,” Redheart said with a roll of her eyes. “Keep on subject, please, or what we’re doing right now will be a one-time deal.”
“Alright, then consider me your personal Cloudsdale guide book.” Straightening, Spitfire folded her hooves on top of the table, meeting Redheart’s eyes headlong. “Where did you want me to start? The weather factory? The Cloudiseum? Or maybe you’d like to hear about something more like the Pegasopolis archives we’ve moved over from the old ruins?”
Redheart hummed as she tapped her hooves on the table. “Good question.” Her eyes lit up when they fell on their half-eaten dinners. She picked up her apple and held it between them. “Cuisine. I’ve always been curious what pegasi do to compensate for the lack of agriculture in the clouds.”
“Now you’re talking. Have you ever had a cloudberry?”
The first thing Spitfire felt when Redheart wheeled her outside was the sun warming her coat. True, it had only been a few days since the crash, but to a mare who spent most of her time high in the sky, a few days could feel like much longer.
To Spitfire, it had felt like a small eternity. She arched her back, letting the sun reach as much of her as possible.
A light breeze tousled the hem of her hospital gown as she stretched, drawing a happy hum from the back of her throat. Her good wing slowly unfurled, spreading in effort to capture the wind flowing between her feathers. She inhaled, breathing in the fresh air. The faint scent of apples tickled her senses, a welcome change from the sterile air inside.
“Are you sure you’re up for this?”
Giving a content sigh, Spitfire lolled her head back enough to meet Redheart’s furrowed brow with a grin. It was an honest, excited grin, free from the mask of her station for the moment.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Redheart said with a roll of her eyes. She wheeled Spitfire out of the way of the hospital doors, parking her by a bush a few paces down the dirt road. “Where did you want to go? Nothing too far, mind you. I don’t want you pushing yourself more than necessary.”
“Good question.” Exhaling, Spitfire leaned into the light caress of the breeze. Her eyes drifted closed as she savoured the sensation. She hummed again, on the brink of slipping into temptation and letting the sun and breeze lull her to sleep. All of the talk in the cafeteria wore on her body more than she cared to admit. On the way out from the cafeteria, she found herself relaxing more into the wheelchair and caring less about the glances she got from other ponies.
“There’s a fountain down the road there, or we could take a little stroll through the hospital gardens. Volunteers come by every now and then to tend to them for us.”
“Maybe. That could be nice,” Spitfire trailed off, opening her eyes and letting her gaze wander skywards. The bright blue sky was just beginning to fade to shades of purple and pink as the sun neared the horizon. Soon, it would be painted with yellows, reds, and golds as molten as her coat that she had seen from her hospital room window. “Actually,” she said, feeling her lips spread into an easy smile, “know of any good places to watch the sunset?”
Redheart raised a finely trimmed eyebrow, then smiled and nodded. “There’s a bench just down the road for exactly that reason.”
“Then what’re we waiting for?” Grunting, Spitfire braced herself against the wheelchair armrests and pushed herself to her hooves. Just like before, Redheart was at her side before she could blink, offering her support as she steadied herself.
“Just let me know if this is too much for you. The last thing I need is more pegasus pride getting in the way of your recovery.”
“Wonderbolt’s honour,” Spitfire said, revelling in the feeling of dirt under her hooves. Not quite as welcoming as a cloud molding itself to her touch, but better than the cold linoleum hospital floors by leaps and bounds.
The wind picked up as they took their first steps. Redheart led her down the dirt road, a constant presence by her side as she focused on shuffling one hoof in front of the other. Their shoulders brushed as they walked, the warmth from the earth pony mare’s coat bleeding over and Spitfire found herself leaning in towards it just as much as she leaned into the wind.
Slowly, she unfurled her wing and spread it over Redheart’s back. Her feathers grazed over her pearly white coat, but never rested over it no matter how much Spitfire might have wanted to pull her close and press that warmth flush against her. For the moment, she would have to settle for the teasing touches of their shoulders and the wind rustling her feathers. Neither was completely satisfying, but it was good enough for now.
Redheart cleared her throat, jolting Spitfire back to reality. She jumped, then winced as the movement jostled her wing.
Blinking, she looked to her side, where Redheart met her gaze with a bemused, if annoyed, stare. “What?”
Redheart gave a pointed look from Spitfire to her wing. “Mind where your wing wanders, Captain.”
With a lopsided grin, Spitfire tucked her wing back against her side. “Sorry. Was just trying to catch some of the wind, honest. It’s about as close to flying as I’m going to get for a while, isn’t it?”
Scrunching up her muzzle, Redheart nodded her head and faced forwards. Then, with a sigh, she relented. “Just be careful that it doesn’t go anywhere unwanted. There will be consequences.”
Grinning, Spitfire spread her wing and half-stepped closer to Redheart even as her knees wobbled from the strain. Their pace was arduous, but the bench was in sight. Just a few minutes more.
In the silence that followed them from the hospital doors, Spitfire found herself glancing to her side. There, she found a peaceful, content smile warming Redheart’s muzzle. Any irritation or warning that was there had vanished in favour of something more genuine, something more Redheart. Her gaze, Spitfire noticed, was directed over the town. Following it, she frowned.
As loathe as she was to bring Redheart’s walls back up, a question prickled at the back of her mind.
“Hey, Redheart?” she asked softly.
Redheart’s ear flicked. Blinking, the smile faltered as she turned back to Spitfire. “Hmm?”
“Got a question for you.”
Redheart arched a brow. “Okay, what is it?”
“You’ve got to be one of the best nurses I’ve ever met. You’re kind, calming, and just good at what you do. How many earth ponies have certification in pegasus wing anatomy?”
“Not too many.” A slight frown tugged at Redheart’s mouth. “What are you getting at?”
Spitfire frowned in turn as they approached the bench, chewing over her words. Even in midday, it was situated somewhere quiet and away from the hubbub of the town and trickle of traffic going to and from the hospital. At the same time, it overlooked the small town, providing plenty of opportunity to watch the ponies of Ponyville go about their days. Or, as was the case now, watching the last minutes of daylight kiss the town goodnight.
“You could work anywhere in Equestria,” she said at length, stopping just beside the bench. A memorial plaque gleamed in the light, though Spitfire didn’t bother to read the name. “Any hospital with a rational chief of medicine would hire you in a heartbeat.”
“Flattering.”
“I’m serious!” Despite herself, Spitfire pouted she eased down to the bench. She exhaled as she gingerly rested against the hardwood surface. “If you want to go somewhere so badly, why don’t you? The Crystal Empire, Fillydelphia, Griffonstone—hay, even Cloudsdale would be crazy not to take you.”
Expression wary, Redheart sat next to her. “Potentially. What are you trying to say?”
“I’m trying to ask why you stay here.” Spitfire swept her hoof over the horizon. “Out of all the places in the world, what’s keeping you here? Your job? Please, I bet anypony here, including the Princess, would give you a killer recommendation. If you want to see Equestria, then why don’t you?”
“I don’t understand what you mean.” Scrunching her muzzle up, Redheart looked at Spitfire as if she grew a second head. “Ponyville is my home. This is where I belong.”
“See, and I don’t get that.” Frown deepening, Spitfire looked out at the town. Sleepy, quiet, peaceful, but so were half the towns in Equestria. What kept a mare like Redheart rooted here? “Cloudsdale’s my home, and I’m proud to represent it at the Equestria Games and wherever I go, but that doesn’t stop me from flying off to greener pastures. I mean, it’s just a city, and Ponyville’s just a town.”
A soft chuckle drew her attention back to Redheart. “I’m afraid I don’t know how else to explain it,” she said, shaking her head. There was a fondness, simple and pure, that touched her eyes, reminiscent of home, safety, and comfort. “This is my home. The ponies that I love are here, and I could never just leave them.”
“My Ma’s back in Cloudsdale,” Spitfire mumbled, wrinkling her snout. “It doesn’t make sense to me, Red. You could be anywhere.”
“But I want to be here. As much as I’d love to see the Gilded Gate Bridge in San Franciscolt or the palace in the Crystal Empire, I’d much rather be here.” Redheart brushed her shoulder against Spitfire’s, a light, playful nudge. “Maybe you just haven’t found the place for you yet.”
Spitfire arched a brow at that. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Redheart, for her part, giggled. “Well, let me put it this way, lots of ponies come through Ponyville. I think you’d be surprised at how many of them discover that this is where they’re meant to be.”
“Oh yeah? Name three.”
Another laugh floated out of Redheart’s lips. “It would be easier to name those who haven’t stayed.” Smirking, she pointed at the sparkling castle made of crystal standing tall on the far end of town. “How about Princess Twilight? Princess Celestia’s prized student, forced to come to Ponyville against her will, and has since created a castle in the name of the friendships she’s made here. There’s also Rainbow Dash. She’s a Cloudsdale filly too, isn’t she?”
Shifting her weight, Spitfire nodded, staring down at the hem of her gown. “That’s only two.”
“I could go on. Octavia is a musician from Canterlot who turned down a promising spot in the Canterlot Philharmonic Orchestra to move to Ponyville with her roommate Vinyl Scratch, a DJ from Manehattan.” Drawing her hoof and Spitfire’s gaze along with it to a house seemingly made of gingerbread, Redheart continued, “Across the street from Sugarcube Corner is Bon Bon’s candy shop. Bon Bon lives above it with her girlfriend, Lyra Heartstrings, another Canterlot gal, as is Amethyst Star, the mayor’s aide. Then there’s Twilight’s student. Starlight, I think. She’s only been here a couple months, but I’d bet that she’s here to stay.”
“Okay, okay.” Huffing softly, Spitfire flicked her tail and looked to the side. “I get it. Lots of ponies move in from everywhere.”
“Ponyville has this funny way of attracting wayward souls,” Redheart said, voice growing softer so that Spitfire had to strain her ears to catch every word. “It finds them, or they find Ponyville, and then it anchors them here.”
Spitfire wrinkled her snout at that, as if tasting something bitter on her tongue. “Yeah, no. Maybe for some ponies and maybe even for Rainbow Dash, but this place is just way too slow for me.”
She nearly jumped out of her gown when Redheart threw her head back and laughed. Spitfire could only stare with wide eyes as the other mare wrapped one hoof around her chest and used the other to wipe her eyes.
Once the laughter died down, she looked at Spitfire, eyes alive and dancing with glee. “Slow,” she said in between giggles, “is a word. It isn’t the right word for Ponyville, however, and never will be as long as Pinkie Pie lives here. Or Rainbow Dash, for that matter, or any of the ponies that make this town what it is.”
Blinking owlishly, Spitfire felt her lips move. “And what is this town?”
“Home,” Redheart said. “A crazy, wonderful place. Trust me, it may seem lazy right now—” A pearly white hoof stroked her shoulder and squeezed, leaving a pleasant warmth in its wake. “—but I’ve learned to cherish these moments for how precious they really are.”
“I’m not sure how much I believe that.”
“Then believe me. Your crash was only a minor incident compared to some of the things that we’ve seen around here.” Redheart tilted her head, the light catching in her eyes. The breath likewise caught in Spitfire’s throat. “Give it time, dear Captain. If you’re not careful, then you may find yourself anchored here, too.”
Spitfire blinked again. That couldn’t have been what it sounded like. “I think you should be more careful, Red. That sounded an awful lot like you wanting me to stick around.”
With a swish of her pink tail, Redheart gave her a look that Spitfire couldn’t quite decipher. Her gut, however, told her that she should like it. “Maybe, maybe not.”
A nibble. It had to be. Fluffing her feathers, Spitfire wet her dry lips. Like her days in the Academy taught her, one good nibble deserves another. “Oho, now you should really be careful.”
It was Redheart’s turn to blink. “Why’s that?”
“Because you pretty much just confessed to liking playing nurse to the Captain of the Wonderbolts.”
The look died on her face. “What?”
“If you want me to stick around for future ‘prognosis,’ all you have to do is ask.”
“No,” Redheart said, her nurse’s cap sliding to the side with the force of her shaking her head. “No, no, no, that’s not what I said at all!”
If Spitfire were smart, she would have stopped then. If she held herself to her promise and stayed strong, she would have held her tongue.
Yet, this was all too easy. How could she stop when Redheart all but offered herself up on a silver platter?
Besides, what was it that Redheart said about everypony getting a moment of weakness?
“Aw, don’t be like that.” Flashing a wicked little grin, she puffed her chest out and preened. “Everypony falls to my irresistible charm sooner or later. It was only a matter of time, Red.”
“No, I’m not—it’s not—quit being so smug!”
Spitfire simply chuckled. “You’re pretty when you’re mad.”
Redheart’s eyes flashed dangerously. They really did come alive when she was angry, enough so to send a shiver down Spitfire’s spine and clamp her jaw together. “Anesthesia,” she more growled than said. “Keep this up, and you’re getting all of it.”
The fury from the other day was absent from Redheart’s voice, and Spitfire smirked. The nurse’s eyes flashed again, a silent challenge. Well, if she wants to play with fire ... “Unethical.”
“I’m sure Doctor Horse and my superiors would forgive me.”
“Too bad you didn’t bring any with you.”
“There’s plenty inside.”
“Yup, inside. We’re outside, far, far away from it all.”
Redheart snorted, narrowing her eyes. “I can run. I’d be back out here in less than ten minutes.”
Spitfire met her gaze. “And leave your poor, injured patient out here all alone?”
The fire in Redheart’s eyes faltered. She tried to hold the gaze—oh, how she tried—but soon enough she dipped her head in surrender.
Game. Set. Match.
“I didn’t think so,” Spitfire said, fluffing her feathers to their fullest.
“You are infuriating.” Redheart exhaled long and slow through her nose. “Is this the ‘other side’ of you you so desperately wanted me to see? I’m not noticing that much of a difference.”
“I’m still sitting here, waiting for you to tell me to stop. Say the word, and I’ll shut my trap.” Winking, Spitfire flicked her tail over Redheart’s. The contact was brief, lasting only a second before the pink tail swished away. “I said I’d behave, but this is part of who I am, Red. Especially when the pretty mare starts teasing me back.”
With a long, drawn-out sigh, Redheart sagged against the bench and stared up at the sky. “Fine, you win this round.”
The first of many.
“But the moment we get inside, you’re taking your medications and going straight to bed. No whining, no complaining, no anything. Understand me? You promised to behave.”
“Whatever you say, Red. You want to know what I’m thinking of doing in the meantime, though?”
A sidelong, suspicious look was her only answer.
“I think for the next few minutes, I’m going to stay right here.” Sitting up a little taller, Spitfire scooched her way closer to Redheart. The sun was halfway down the horizon, painting the skies a series of shimmering golds, soft pinks, and fading purples. Shifting to the side, she tilted her head so that the light would catch in her mane of fire and illuminate her amber eyes. “And you know what I’m going to do?”
Redheart stared, silently shaking her head.
“I’m going to watch this sunset right here,” Spitfire said, waving to the horizon. “With a beautiful mare by my side.”
It may have been a trick of the waning light, but the lightest of pinks spilled over Redheart’s muzzle. Puffing up her cheeks, she sat with her shoulders squared, turned to the horizon, and grumbled under her breath. “Five minutes. The sun will be set by then, and then you’re going to bed. Get any ideas while we’re out here, and I’ll send you to sleep with a noseful of chloroform.”
“Whatever you say. You’re even cuter when you’re flustered.”
“I’m not flustered,” Redheart said, glaring daggers at Spitfire. “This is fury.”
Spitfire gave a winning smile, then turned to watch the sunset, chuckling to herself. “Whatever you say, Red.”