All the Lost Pieces

by Voltage Drop

Chapter 4

“You're doing really well, Castor.”

“Thanks,” I replied with a hint of annoyance. He was patronizing me, there was no doubt in my mind. Since when was a grown mare being able to sit upright on her own something special?

“Okay, I'm right here next to you for support. Let's try standing for a minute and then I will help you back down.”

I gave a fake smile and nodded to him as he gave support on my left. “Alright,” I said.

It had been a week and a half since I had first awakened from my injuries and for the last six days I had been seeing the physical therapists for several hours in the afternoon each day. It had been a long journey up until this point, the first two days of therapy focusing on my abilities to hold small items and feed myself, the latter four moving more towards sitting upright and holding my balance. It was all trivial practice mostly, something that annoyed me more than anything else. As it turns out, though, a unicorn's sense of body and orientation is quite unique in that they do not rely only on the feeling of bodily locations and the inner ear the inner ear. Instead the senses are directly tied into one's magical sense. Naturally with my horn gone my magical senses were taken as well, meaning that if I were blindfolded, I could not correctly tell where my legs were.

In fact, much of my therapy up until the day I am relating had been focusing on that very issue. I would sit on my haunches, blindfolded, with a nurse at my side steadying me as he also moved one of my forelegs around, asking me to keep track of its position and periodically tell him where I thought it was. Needless to say, it was unnerving when I thought my leg to be folded in my lap when it was in fact being held straight out to my side. Again, I say that all of my perceptions as to bodily location were rooted in the extrasensory 'map' that I no longer had, leaving my normal orientation senses struggling to cope with the massive workload suddenly laden upon them. Much the same way was my balance.

These problems converged quite disastrously upon what many take to be a simple act – that of walking. I want to take this moment to assure that, most certainly, walking is not simple in the least bit: it is a carefully choreographed dance between your four legs, your shoulders and hips, your center of mass, and many other tiny little things that we overlook in our daily lives and only stop to consider when put into circumstances such as mine. The only reason we find the act easy is much the same as how an accomplished golfer finds that particular sport easy – we have been practicing it our entire lives. That said, with judging the orientation of my legs being so difficult, and my balance so skewed, it was like learning how to walk for the first time, except as an adult I was a lot higher off the ground when I fell opposed to if I were small child.

So, as it was, eleven days after awakening from my coma, I was about to stand for the first time. With the support of Nurse Free Weight at my side, steadying me with a wing draped over my back, I slowly put weight onto my hooves and lifted myself off the ground.

I cannot convey the exhilaration I felt to be standing again, even if I were being assisted by someone else. My legs shook underneath me and I leaned against the padded rail to my right for balance, but I knew I could do so much more if only I tried. I lifted my right hoof and threw it down slightly ahead of where it had been. To anyone else, that would have been a stumble, but to me, it was a leap.

“Easy now. Let's just stand today and get used to keeping balance, alright.”

I don't want to stand, I want to run. I thought to myself and half mumbled aloud.

“What's that?”

I hesitated for a moment, but then resolved to the nurse, “I don't want to stand. I want to run.”

“That's good enthusiasm, Castor, but let's take things one step at a time.”

I had hardly let him finish the statement before I brought my hind left leg forward and took another step.

“Stop,” he ordered. “We're just standing today.”

“I want to do this,” I replied firmly. Just a few more steps, that was all I wanted.

I put more weight onto the two legs I had just moved in preparation for another step.

“You can do this later, maybe tomorrow. What we are doing today will lead to walking, but now now.” I ignored him, lifted another hoof and began to step. “Castor, Stop.”

I didn't listen.

“Stop!”

I shifted my weight and lifted my right rear hoof, but halfway through the nurse pulled just a slight distance away and denied the support he had been giving. I promptly lost balance and, for an instant, began to fall to the side before he caught me and eased me to the ground.

“See, you can't balance on your own yet – that's what you need to learn how to do before you try walking,” he rebuked.

“I was doing just fine,” I said back with a slight snarl.

“You are doing extraordinarily well given your circumstances, but we have to retrain your balance to function without being able to magically sense the direction of gravity. To do that correctly and without risking hitting your head again, I want to spend a few minutes today just standing and readjusting because you aren't steady enough to try walking.”

“I've got it. I just need a few steps today.”

“You have a hole in your head on top of some severe brain injuries. Even with the helmet on, a fall is still very dangerous to you, that's why we have to take things slowly.”

I let my eyes wander to the padded rail, “Okay, but tomorrow, I want to make it a few steps down this, okay?” I pointed a shaky hoof at the rail.

“How about we take each day at a time?”

I shook my head. “No, I want to be able to do this. I Need this,” I pleaded, drawing out the word 'need' for added emphasis.

“Let's focus on today. Okay? I am going to help you sit up for a few minutes and then we will end the session by trying to stand again. How's that sound?”

“Alright,” I begrudgingly agreed.

“Okay.” Nurse Free Weight walked behind me and tapped me on the back. “I am ready to steady you. Try to sit upright when you are ready.”

Lying on my stomach with my hind legs under me, I planted my front hooves firmly and began pushing myself up. The world tipped and wobbled around me, but these past few days the sensations had not been nearly as extreme as the first few days that I had been awake. The floor was no longer on the wall and that day I had been able to sit upright for fifteen minutes straight before I began to get dizzy.

After a few minutes of sitting and adjusting to my faulty senses, the nurse began stepping me through rotating my head side to side to acclimate to balancing while looking in different directions. “Left-two-three-four. Front-two-three-four. Right-two-three-four,” he counted off as if he were some sort of drum major in a parade. I obeyed, rotating and tilting my head through the ordered motions.

To my right, just beyond the cushioned rail, was a mirror covered wall much like that in a workout room in a gym. Each time I looked that direction, my eyes would dart to my image and fixate upon my forehead. The thick bandages and bulky helmet that I wore to protect my head in case of a fall prevented me from seeing my head without my horn, which was a relief on a certain level. But I still could not shake the horrible fixation my eyes had with my reflection. I was a shadow of who I was only weeks before: my face was gaunt, eyes baggy, my expression sickly. Altogether, it was a little to much for me and I eventually asked the nurse if we could turn to where I wasn't forced to look at the mirror.

He agreed, and we continued, but it wasn't the relief I had been hoping for. Being turned towards the center of the room, my attention was now drawn to the few dozen occupants whose struggles and triumphs hinted at their own sad stories.

Nearby, an elderly unicorn with a half absent expression sat staring off blanking across the room. Somewhere else, a frail looking earth pony sat in a wheelchair struggling to lift a set of small weights as he was cheered on by a nurse, and across from him was a pegasus foal stretching her braced, crippled wings getting ready to exercise them.

One particular patient, however, held my gaze longer than the others. He was a unicorn close to my age. From his flank down, he was covered in burn scars and was missing both his hind legs just below the knee. From there on, instead of flesh and bone, there were prosthesis and metal. His nurse, a pegasus like Nurse Free Weight, wrapped her wing across his back and steadied him as he wobbled on the artificial legs.

The sight of so many needing help was depressing and I suddenly felt shallow for being ungrateful for my relatively good physical well being.

I continued the regiment dictated by Nurse Free Weight, turning and tilting my head until I was distracted by a loud clattering. I and my therapist jerked our attention to pinpoint the source of the sound just in time to see the unicorn I had noticed earlier swear loudly while lying on his side and, out of anger, cast a small ball of fire which dissipated harmlessly against a nearby rack of weights. Several nurses rushed to him as a unicorn warded the room with a spell I recognized to be a pretty powerful anti-spell field. Tears crept into my eyes as I watched the stallion swat away a nurse while trying to stand, and I shamefully let out a whimpering chuckle when he fell on his face a second time.

“That's me,” I croaked, looking to Nurse Free Weight who stood poised to go help the situation.

He returned my sad smile, “See, you aren't the only one adjusting to some unfortunate events.”

Things quickly settled down, my therapy continued, and soon Nurse Free Weight informed me the believed it was time I try standing again.

“Alright,” I replied with more than a little enthusiasm. He sat down beside me, and stood in unison with me with him acting once again as my support. I swayed and wobbled like a drunk and several times would have fallen over if it wasn't for the steadying wing my therapist had draped over my back.

“Tell me...” I started conversationally, “Are pegasi normally assigned to assist those relearning to walk.”

“The wings do help, but not as much as you might think. Basically, the answer is no, we don't do it too much more often than the others.”

Several seconds of silence passed, giving my mind enough time to wander from the question I had just asked. “I want to walk so badly,” I wished aloud.

“With time, with time,” he assured. “I take it you feel like you could keep standing for a while longer?”

“Yes.”

“Alright.”

Standing for a few more minutes, if it were not for Nurse Free Weight, I would have tipped over a dozen times. Soon, the session was up and the nurse eased me back into the wheelchair in which I had been pushed into the room.

“That was a lot easier this time around,” I said after I was settled into the chair.

“Yes it was,” he responded. “Your improvement today is excellent.”

“Is it enough that I can try to walk tomorrow?”

“Usually, I like to space things out a bit more than that, but I think in your case it would be best if we were to proceed with that stage as early as possible.” He gave a small wink.

“Thank you.”

“You're welcome.” Nurse Free Weight began pushing me out of the room.

“Is it okay if you push me over to that unicorn so I can talk to him?” I pointed to the stallion with the prosthetic legs.

Giving him a slight glance, the nurse shook his head. “He has his own therapy to go through right now, and I am afraid I have other patients to help.”

“Oh,” I uttered, feeling a little foolish for not recognizing those facts. “Sorry, I guess I should have realized that.”

“It's fine. Maybe some other time.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

---

“You're doing great. Excellent!”

“Thanks,” I responded,my voice peppered with excitement as I focused on not falling. Like a foal taking her first steps, I grinned ear to ear a vibrant, beaming smile.

It had only been two days since I had first stood, and already my sense of balance was rapidly returning to me. By Nurse Free Weight's support, I took another step as he stood ready to catch me if I were to fall.

“Good, keep it up.”

I took two more steps, then I swayed and leaned against the padded rail for a moment's support. Nurse Free Weight was ready to catch me if I were to fall farther, but I righted myself and corrected my balance, saying, “I'm fine.”

“Alright. Do you want to keep going?”

“Absolutely.” I stood for a few seconds as I savoured the moment and focused on what my balance was telling me. Tentatively, I took a step, then another, and then four more before I was forced to lean on my nurse for support. Before long, I had made it fifteen feet down the rail.

Oh, by no means was this a graceful canter – not by a long shot. I had seen ponies hauling five hundred pounds on their back move more fluidly than I had just been. But I was walking! What a fantastic thrill! I was eased to the ground several times after I lost my balance or stumbled, and just as often I was forced to take long breaks when my sense of up and down became tilted to the side, but over the course of the next half hour, I, using my therapist and the rail as braces, made it the remaining twenty feet to the end of the rail.

I was smiling again by the time we reached the end and I laid down on my stomach. It was a happy moment because, for once, I didn't care about what I had lost. I had worked so hard to get to the point of being able to perform this simple task that in and of itself, I was proud of what I had accomplished.

“That was great,” Nurse Free Weight chimed. “Now, if you are up for it, let's turn around and walk back to where we started.”

“Just a minute, my head is spinning too much for me to stand right now. I was really pushing it those last few steps.” I lay resting my head, perfectly still, on my crossed forelegs as I waited for my sense of gravity to be pulling downwards again. It was bothersome in many ways, but also satisfying to compare against how I had been only a few days ago and see how much I had improved. I eventually became steady enough to stand again.

The therapist squatted down at my side again and laid a wing over my back to steady me as I raised up. It was a quick albeit difficult task to stand, but I did so anyway and, with his support, began walking down the line again. My steps were no more smoothly composed than the previous time, but I could swear that I was tripping over my own hooves a little less. I counted one or two fewer times I had to lie down to reset my balance, and I only needed to lean against Nurse Free Weight or the rail five times when I swayed or stumbled. It still took a long time to reach the other end, though, and that gave my mind time to wander.

In many ways, I could liken relearning to walk like casting a multi-layered spell. You learn the foundations, then repeat them until they become easy albeit unpolished because they are incomplete without the higher layers of the spell. Slowly, more complicated parts are added as the caster gains familiarity with the components so the greater whole of the spell is completed. That is when the spell is learned.

I thought the analogy good, but it also saddened me and managed to bitter my happy moment with the metallic tang of loss It was still... emotionally trying, to say the least, adjusting to the disability of being unable to use magic. Despite the shock being partially gone, I was raw inside. I had no idea who or what I was without my magical talents, I couldn't imagine working a job that didn't employ such skills, and I certainly could not even conceive of what I was going to do with myself for the rest of my life. Still, I was gladdened by the progress I was making and could look forward to, in a couple of days, not being forced to use the bedpan anymore.

When we reached the other end of the rail, I lay down to ease the burden on my legs which were becoming fatigued. Those long days and nights doing nothing other than laying in a bed had taken a toll on my physique. “By Celestia, I am so weak!” I looked down at my legs and rubbed a thigh, thoughts turning to how much weaker I would be if I had been bed-stricken for any longer. Something about my legs hurting reminded me of someone, and I looked across the room to see if he was still there, “Nurse, do you think I can go over and say hi to that stallion?” I lifted a hoof and pointed at him. The unicorn in question sat in a chair beside his wheelchair and, in his telekinetic grip, tipped his cup of water back all the way and then asked his nurse if she could go refill it.

“It looks like he is taking a break, so you can talk for a few minutes if he is up for it, I suppose. What are you thinking about saying?”

“I'm not sure.” I felt like the nurse was prying, but I also supposed it wasn't often when patients wanted to talk to other patients during therapy and he wanted to ensure I wasn't going to say anything stupid. “I just wanted to say 'hi', and that I feel like we share some common ground.”

He smiled but did not say anything more as he quickly walked to the edge of the room and brought me the wheelchair I had been pushed in on. With his help, I was soon in it and he pushed me toward the unicorn where he sat next to a pair of padded rails. Coming from his side, he didn't see me being pushed in his direction until I and my therapist were close. Even then, he paid us little attention until I began speaking. “Hi,” I said with an edge of nervousness.

Hearing my voice, he turned to look at me. “Hello?” He was apparently surprised someone had said something to him.

“I've been here for a couple of days now trying to... “ I was walking on eggshells because I didn't know what might or might not hurt him if I said it wrongly, “Relearn how to keep my balance while walking and I... I saw you and thought maybe... that we have a bit in common.”

His eyes took a moment to look me head to hoof while his face remained neutral. He shook his head to clear a couple of thoughts from it, then gave a soft smile. “I guess we probably do.” He leaned forward from where he sat and offered a hoofshake. I reflexively did the same but immediately felt like I was going to fall out of my wheelchair when my back left the rest. “Sorry,” I gave a nervous smile as Nurse Free Weight pushed me a little closer to him so I could reach. “I don't balance too well.”

“It's fine,” he said back, accepting the hoofshake I was finally able to extend. “I don't walk too well. My name's Dauntless Query.”

“Castor Star.” I shook his hoof. “You have a very interesting name.”

“Thanks, most everyone just calls me Dante, though. Anyway, I'm an explorer, someone who likes to go off the edges of the map and fill in the gaps in our knowledge.”

“You must have some great stories to tell.”

“Maybe.” He then grinned wryly and laughed, “Fair warning, if you ever travel with Griffons, they make some of the strongest vodka I know of. One sip will knock you right over.”

I smiled back. “I don't think that will be a problem for me. I've never really traveled much, but I know what to drink if I ever have a bad day.” My expression saddened. “Come to think of it, I could've used some of the stuff this past week and a half.”

“Yeah...” Dante looked down at his prosthetic legs. “I know the feeling. Don't think the doctors would like me sipping on the stuff here in the hospital though.”

“I would wager they would be more okay with that than you shooting off a fireball though.” I exhaled, “The way things have been going, I bet I would have done something like that several times by now if I could...” I trailed off.

“The docs weren't too happy bout' that. Outright steamed under the collar in fact.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I barely talked them out of having some anti-spell field cast on me.”

“Probably would have been a counter-ward. That's what is commonly used to disable someone's magic.”

“Right. I remember now,” he said absentmindedly. “Anyway, I already can't walk so I wasn't too thrilled on having my magic taken away on top of that.”

My eyes fell downcast, “Tell me about it.”

“Well, don't worry,” he reassured. “Earth Pony magic is incredible when it comes to healing. I'm sure you'll be healed up really soon.”

Eyes jerking upward to meet his gaze, I gave him a long withering look as a surge of pain coursed through me. Reaching up to my forehead, my heart sunk slightly as I rubbed a hoof over the smooth, protective helmet where my horn should have been. “I'm not...” I heard the melancholy edge of my words and caught myself, forcing myself to start over in a slightly lighter tone. “I am a unicorn... or guess I was...” I continued to rub the space where my horn should have been. “I don't know what I am now.”

Dante cringed under the weight of my reply.

“I think it's time we continue your therapy,” Nurse Free Weight interjected.

“No,” I, throat burning with rising emotions, slowly replied. “I'm okay. This sort of thing is something I'll be dealing with a lot now, and I need to learn how to cope with it.”

“Just let me know if you want to leave.”

“Okay.” I turned back to Dante. “I...” The words wouldn't come. Beneath my emotions, below the anger and the sorrow, I realized this was the first time I was explaining my injury to someone else. For the past week and half, I had been been living a waking nightmare in which I had become numb to my disability, yet when I suddenly was pressed to describe my circumstances, things suddenly felt dreadfully real and choked the words from my throat. “I... got hit in the head... really hard... The impact broke my horn and pushed some of it back into my brain...” I shivered and listlessly wrung my hooves together. “It couldn't be saved.”

“Oh... I'm so sorry. And what I said was really inconsiderate, I didn't mean to-”

“Don't worry... I guess I am just sensitive,” I gave dejected laugh. “I guess you probably understand the way I feel right now.”

“Yeah,” he replied with a sad smile. “But I guess since I kind of know what you are going through, I should have known to be more careful.”

“Well, it's okay, I guess.” I didn't sound like I believed my own words, and to an extent that was true, but I was suddenly so sad that the emotion was overwhelming. “Like I said, I am going to have to learn to accept this,”

We were silent for a few moments as I wished I had something to wipe my nose on. “Well...” Dante began, being cautious with his words, “I know I can't fully understand what it's like to... well... you know...”

“Lose your magic?” I offered glumly.

“Well, yes. But if it helps, my legs were really important to me – I don't know how I am going to keep doing a lot of what I normally do, no matter how good the prosthetic ones are. I know it's not the same, but... I feel ya, if you know what I mean.”

“Yeah.” I blinked some tears from my eyes. “I understand. Thank you. And I guess I 'feel ya' too.”

“Thank you too.”

We looked at each other for a few seconds, then Nurse Free Weight interjected again. “Well, what do you say about letting Mr Query get back to business and we do the same?” Nurse Free Weight tactfully motioned to Dante's therapist, who had returned without my noticing.

“Oh, I hope I haven't been holding you up.”

Dante waved a hoof. “Not in the least. It's been nice talking to you, Castor Star.”

“Just call me Castor.”

“Well, I hope to talk to you again, Castor.”

“And you too, Dante.”

We shook hooves again, then Nurse Free Weight pushed me back to where we had just been. Once there, he helped me out of the wheelchair and I spent the last thirty minutes of therapy practising sitting upright while moving my head around. I tried walking again at the very end of the session, but only managed to get so far as to stand up without assistance. It was frustrating, but I my success earlier still swelled warmly in my heart. I was seated again in the wheelchair, and Nurse Free Weight pushed me through the main doors of therapy gymnasium into a room where two bored looking nurses sat behind a counter against the wall. A short exchange of words later, and Nurse Free Weight left me to go get his next patient and one of the nurses who had been behind the counter came to me and pushed me down the old and hallway, into an elevator, and to my room.

I was not expecting anyone to be inside when the door was opened, so was surprised to see a Pegasus laying on the short couch as I was pushed into the room. Laying on his stomach with his legs under him, he picked up his head and looked to me and the nurse. He opened his mouth to say something, but coughed nervously and looked around the room with a worried expression.

“Hello?” I asked with an aggressive edge to my voice.

“Hi.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Please, don't be mad,” he pleaded, “I came here to apologize.”

The nurse by this point had me pushed me beside the bed, “I don't want to interrupt, but let's get you into the bed so I can leave you alone to talk.”

“Okay.” The air between my friend, Silver Lining, and I was frosty, to put it nicely, and I, in retrospect, feel sorry for the poor nurse who got caught in the frigidness rolling off me.

Silver Lining stepped off of the couch, holding off the ground a hind leg which was encased in a cast. “Please, just hear me out. I feel terrible about all this.”

“Be patient,” the nurse calmly ordered. “I will be done helping your friend in just a moment. Ready to stand Castor?”

“Yes,” I answered and threw my foreleg around the shoulders of the nurse. We stood together and I climbed into bed with his assistance. In bed, I crossed my front legs and glared at my friend as the nurse removed my protective helmet and placed it on a table in the room.

“Please don't look at me like that,” he pleaded, wilting under my penetrating leer.

My eyes narrowed, “Silver, you have a lot of guts coming here after what you did to me.”

“It was an accident, I never meant to cause this.”

“Well, that solves everything doesn't it?” I threw my front legs wide and gave a mocking laugh. “If you didn't mean to do it, then that means it never happened, right?”

“That's not what I'm saying; you're acting like I did this on purpose!” He raised his voice, “Stop being this way and try to understand I'm sorry about this!”

“Understand? Understand!?! You try to understand me! Do you even realize what I am going through because of your stupidity!?!”

Silver grimaced and looked away, “That's why I'm here. Its killing me that this happened to you and that it's my fault.”

“So you think that coming in here and giving me some lame 'I'm sorry' spiel would make everything better?”

“It's not like that. I wanted to say I'm sorry and... I mean I didn't really expect it would make everything better, but I thought it might help.”

“Well it didn't.”

Uneasy silence followed, “What do you want me to do then?”

“Go away,” I snarled.

“I... I want to talk about this.”

“There is nothing to be said,” I locked my face into a vicious scowl as I glared at Silver Lining.

“This isn't like you. Please, let me say I'm sorry.” His ears flattened nervously on his head as he skirted eye contact. “You don't have to forgive me, but please don't turn me away like this.”

“You're right...” I paused to raise the tension between us, “I don't have to forgive you. Now like I said. Go. Away!” I curtly pointed to the door.

Silver Lining's wings drooped at his sides as he fell crestfallen. “If... I mean... Please...” He sputtered a few broken lines of thought before he sighed and skulked from the room like a dog that had been kicked. He closed the door behind him, leaving me alone. I slowly rubbed my face and sighed, curling up on my side and pulling the sheets close up around my head.

For a time, I pondered that Silver Lining right. I was not acting like myself and had been in fact quite nasty just then. The whole exchange sat ill in my stomach; however, I somehow felt vindicated in how I had acted. It was a strange dichotomy where I knew the way I had acted was not right, yet it certainly felt right and I dared anyone in my position to do better. I rationalized that, after all, I was going through more than anyone should be forced to go through, and it made sense if I was a little moody. I should be given some leeway, especially since I was suffering from those terrible headaches.

I massaged my temples. Sometimes, it was almost more than I could take, and that outburst had caused a migrane to set in. They were the worst I had ever experienced in my life; all prior paled in comparison. The pain was insidious, boring into my forehead like a severely overcast spell, and they were getting worse. Medication would only do so much to ebb the suffering it oppressed upon me, and even then, it was getting to where the best I could hope for was that I would be too delirious and sleepy to care about the pain.

I rubbed my head more forcefully, begging for relief as I cursed the growing pain. This headache, I could tell because it was like oh so many others, was only going to get worse before it would begin tapering off in about two hours. Until then, it would be like someone was driving a tent stake into my forehead.

I pulled the blanket all the way over my head and tried to fall asleep, hoping that it would bring relief from the pain.

Comments

[FTR2017]

Certainly you managed to grasp the notion of people that believe that saying "I'm Sorry" will make things better for both victim and cause of the incident. One can only feel simpathy for Castor, since the cause of her disabling injury had a lot of gall to show up that early.

Forgiveness is all well and good, but if the cause of such terrifying injury (which could have even caused death) was done by the stupidity of someone else that called itself friend - well, how much of a friend was he to behave in such stupid way?

Since I've read this story up to the last chapter posted, all I can say is "one can forgive, but can tell someone to go to hell and never come back", if the cause of the rift is meritory of such action.

That pegasus sure doesn't deserve any mercy - in fact, I was shocked that you didn't portray Castor and her parents suing him for the harm done. If anything, he should have paid for the expenses incurred rather than her parents suffering debt because of his foolishness.

Well, it is good to re-read this story. :)