It's Like A Relapse, Only Worse
There were multiple considerations involved in choosing a residence and as far as Fleur was concerned, the cottage qualified for just about none of them.
The most basic requirements? Her adolescence had given her plenty of opportunities to figure those out, because the vast majority of Protoceran gangs were just playing at it as an act of (theoretical) link-establishing defiance and thus had everyone leave the hideout at night. Going home, because failing to enjoy a parent-provided meal would mean less energy for being defiant tomorrow. And there had been times when Fleur had been able to take shelter within what was usually just an improvised clubhouse, but -- such places were seldom truly defensible, and she really didn't need anyone coming in on her at an unusual hour. Such encounters usually led to members wondering where her parents were.
A young mare with no true place to stay, skilled enough with makeup to present a minor appearance parade of those who shouldn't have been wandering the streets alone in the small hours and yet becoming progressively physically distinctive enough to make observers question whether there was a new family in the area... that mare had needed a succession of places to stay. In multiple towns, because very few gangs truly lasted, membership was fleeting and besides, she could never be entirely certain that someone wasn't trying to find her.
She hadn't had a home. Her various sites couldn't even be described as places to live, because truly living was no part of it. The goal had been baseline survival, and she'd had to locate something which could help to keep her breathing over and over and over. Those she carried with her only truly survived for as long as she did. And the hunt had to continue.
There had been several qualifications in play for a shelter, and it was a rare day when she could match half of them.
In the ideal, the site would have been abandoned for some time: no one had lived (or worked) there for a while, and there was just about no chance of anyone ever wishing to change that. There wouldn't be any casual drop-ins, no patrolling security detail ever came by to check on the property, and it certainly wouldn't have anything in the way of neighbors. Neighbors were a problem. It was certainly possible to find a house which was going to be empty for a few weeks because the owners were traveling, and some of them would even have food stocked in the kitchen -- but such residences tended to be in the vicinity of other homes and even if Fleur never went anywhere near a window, touched a lighting device, or risked a single ignition of her corona... someone was eventually going to wonder why they kept hearing hooves moving across wood.
(The old sawmill hadn't been perfect. Abandoned, yes. Just about nopony truly curious about what was going on within? Absolutely. But it had been alongside the path to the cottage and even in the moons before Fluttershy received what had turned out to be a permanent boost in clientele, there were just too many ponies going by.)
At the absolute minimum, you needed four walls, a good floor (with optionally-poor sound conduction), and a roof. All of which needed to be solid. And the cottage didn't qualify.
One of Fleur's earliest challenges in dealing with the structure had come from trying to get it thermally sealed. A number of pegasi were capable of rendering their residences into personal Fortresses Of Temperature -- but that was something which arose from their species magic. And when it came to such weavings, Fluttershy would forever be well below the average, while Fleur, who'd felt the need to do something before the professionals arrived, had been limited to jamming wads of temporary blocking material into the leaks.
This had held up for most of a night. Fluttershy's Moon-witnessed reversal of Fleur's efforts had wrapped up shortly before Sun had been raised, while the resulting argument had carried them across breakfast and nearly all the way to lunch. (It probably wouldn't have gone on that long for any other couple, but quasi-fights at the cottage usually had to work their way around multiple interruptions.)
A leak? That wasn't a way for heat to get out: it was the passage designated for squirrels to get in! And out, because some of them didn't like to be cooped up inside for very long. Oh, and it was just squirrels. The chipmunks had a different exit. And that's not a hole, that's a mouse highway! Which, in the best case, is solely used by mice. The rats come in and out over there. ...yes, that's very close to the bathtub. And sometimes they do scramble up to the rim and watch. But you shouldn't worry about that, because if one slips and falls in? They're good swimmers. Just try to lift them out within a couple of minutes. And they try to keep themselves clean, really they do, 'dirty rat' is just something ponies say when they don't understand how hard it is to stay clean when you're always pushing through tiny tight tunnels, but it's understandable if you want to drain the bath water after. Switch to the showerhead. But keep it on a light spray, just in case the rat wants to stay in there. Actually, if you prefer using the mist setting, then there's a lot of animals who could wash up with you...
Fleur had pointed out that having the walls honeycombed with passages to the outside meant a chance of having strays get in. Fluttershy had countered with the rather obvious fact that the grounds were pretty much under observation at all times, and anything which came within six body lengths of an entrance had probably been tracked for the previous thirty. Besides, a strange animal was potentially just a friend she hadn't made yet, and wasn't that important...?
Ultimately, they'd had to compromise. Pegasus contractors had done their best to keep the warmth inside the cottage, while still allowing the majority of the passages to remain open. Some of the smaller ones had been sealed because in Fleur's opinion, if squirrels and chipmunks could share scurrying surfaces within the sitting room, they could use the same tunnel without fear of anything more than a minor traffic jam.
Having any of the little passages closed off should have felt like a victory. But Fleur wasn't particularly fond of giving the outside world so much as a single chance of getting to her. The best way to treat security was as an absolute and if there was one vulnerability, then could you ever truly say you were safe? And yes, the cottage was watched and it wasn't as if anything over a certain size could try to use the tunnels, but somepony was probably going to come up with a viable shrinking spell any century now. Fluttershy was a Bearer: that was a high-risk profession and, given the kind of trouble which the seven tended to get into, might eventually translate into 'target'. Besides, even if that somehow didn't happen, hadn't Fluttershy heard the rumors about something called 'breezies'...?
Which was when Fluttershy had softly reminded Fleur of the difference between a shelter and a home. A shelter, in the best case, was a place which only the user could access. A home had people dropping by. Visitors. Friends. A veterinary service added 'animals', kicked in 'clients', and absolutely needed ways to accommodate all of them.
A home had to have a door. It was okay if it was locked once in a while, because that could represent an attempt to keep the fear out. And if you had several doors, then ideally, one of them would double as a loading dock because the feed deliveries had to arrive somewhere. But if it was a home, then ponies had to come and go.
Fleur still wasn't entirely convinced, and not all of that doubt arose from ongoing worries about security.
The cottage probably qualified as a home. But if it did, then... it was home for Fluttershy, and Fluttershy alone. When it came to Fleur...
Fleur had several requirements for a shelter. Security was rather high on the list.
Also, it helped if she could break into the place at will. Which might look like a vulnerability to everyone else, but the key was that she would be the only one who knew where the weak spot was. After all, you never knew when someone was going to decide it was their shelter now. Coming up from behind the intruder was one of the better ways to prove them wrong.
The cottage had a number of potential breach points. For a unicorn who could self-levitate, one of them was a poorly-latched giant swinging window panel on the south wall of the main bathroom.
She soaked for as long as she dared, and did so in what she hoped would be privacy. It was hard to keep all of the animals out of any given location without Fluttershy making a direct request, but she'd insisted on having the current rat tunnel lead somewhere else.
The mud trail which led in from the window was wiped away. Her fur was properly groomed, followed by mostly drying the coat. Getting rid of every last moisture drop could take too long, especially in spring. Besides, maybe the wet look would be coming back.
Fleur closed up everything, declined to apply cosmetics just for going to bed, and wearily let herself out.
Fluttershy was in the sitting room, resting on the fainting couch while surrounded by dual walls. One was comprised of animals, and the less mobile variety had rendered stacked veterinary journals into something approaching an exceptionally small palace. Given their collective ability to discourage those who weren't truly desperate, some of the cover prices potentially qualified as battlements.
The pegasus looked up at the sound of approaching hooves. About forty percent of a beautiful face regarded Fleur.
"...I didn't hear you come in."
"I used the back entrance." Which was technically true.
The blue-green half-gaze slowly moved over Fleur's body. A form which didn't have a single trace of powders on it --
"...I'm almost done with this," Fluttershy softly said, and the incredible tail swayed. "Or I could just stop now. Leave it for a little while. Or a long one..."
-- which was what the pegasus preferred...
Fleur activated her talent. Looked at her love, saw want and desire reflected in something very much like a mirror and, just for a moment, wondered why she deserved any of it. Shut herself down again.
No fornicatio tonight.
"Go ahead and finish," she wearily said. "I'll just go to bed."
The one visible eye blinked.
"...I can be there in a minute."
"You're not tired." Their sleep schedules would never match. If Fleur was exhausted enough to pass out for nine hours, then Fluttershy might make it all the way to five.
Fluttershy took a deep, slow breath, and something about the exposed iris seemed to dim.
"...you don't -- want to?"
If I looked at her again, right now...
The edges would be dimming.
Colors vibrate. Dull.
Eventually, fracture lines might start to work their way in from the corners. Recognition that I don't fit. Aspects, but -- not the whole. Never the whole of it. And the pieces separate, begin to fall apart...
"I'm just worn out." Her smile felt forced. "It was a long day."
"...it wasn't so bad," Fluttershy carefully offered. "Not compared to some of them. I didn't think so, anyway."
I don't think she's pushing. She sounds more worried than anything else.
Maybe she's worried that I'm not up to it.
To any of it.
"Some of it's just the humidity," Fleur lied. "I don't know what the Bureau was thinking, pushing it that high. It's tiring, Fluttershy. That's all."
Slowly, the pegasus nodded. Several kittens tried to pounce on the trailing ends of the shifting mane.
"...did you eat?"
Not really.
"I think that's my line."
"...did you eat?" arrived with just a little more force.
"I'll eat in the morning," Fleur pretended to promise.
A little more softly, "...and would you let me get away with that?"
No. "Fluttershy --"
"...vegetable broth," the pegasus quietly said. "I'll heat some broth for you. It won't take very long. And then I'll know you're sleeping on a full stomach." Four legs began to push against the cushions.
"You don't have to --"
"...I want to --"
-- which was when the outside birds went off at top volume, and both mares failed to freeze.
The cottage didn't possess what Fleur considered to be adequate levels of security. But it did have a few workable features, and one of them came from an alarm system which possessed some capacity for telling the occupants why it was going off. There was a melody for a friend coming up the path, another applied to strangers, Zephyr's arrival had placed a few notes of anger into the bars, and one version would only apply if a monster came in from the wild zone. Something which would be delivered on the wing, as Fluttershy had told the birds that their first priority would be to evacuate. That last was a song which had been sounded with true reason at least once before, but -- Fleur hadn't been in hearing range at the time.
This frantic aria wasn't any of those tunes. The desperate notes had a liquid quality, and invisible drops fell from the quavers.
Yellow limbs jerked to full extension. Fluttershy jumped off the couch, raced past Fleur to the door as slightly-oversized wings unfurled to their full span, just in case the slightest bit of extra speed could make any difference at all. Fleur's horn ignited, corona projecting towards the door in the name of saving what might be vital seconds --
-- the glow-coated halves opened together, and new sounds entered the cottage. One was the squeak of cart wheels, accompanied by the hard, too-fast breaths of a pony who'd been running for far longer than she should have. This was followed by the soft, confused multiple whimpers of those too new to the world for understanding any of it. A tremulous, uncertain cross between grunt and growl came in behind it.
And then the scent reached Fleur. Fluttershy, who had already cleared the door, was flying through an invisible cloud of it. That which brought fear, panic, and the need to flee into the heart of just about everypony -- but not the pegsaus, whose every wingbeat brought her that much closer to the source.
It was part of how Ponyville judged how bad a situation truly was. The worst things were the ones Fluttershy didn't run from.
"Please!" the short grey unicorn mare gasped, forcing overworked legs to bring her that much closer to what had to be salvation. "Please..."
Fleur stared out from the doorway. Looked at froth sliding away from Velour's exceptionally soft coat, saw the cart, the soaked red padding, and the sheer size of the dog within. It was a canine which could just about outsize Twilight, potentially outmassed the alicorn and, when it came to sheer displays of affection, was absolutely capable of outwagging her. 'Outlicking' was an automatic win for Bertha. Twilight was just about up to nuzzling her friends and kissing her little brother good night: licking had never entered the equation.
Both mares knew the mastiff, had been seeing her regularly ever since the pregnancy had been confirmed. They'd mutually agreed that Bertha was more than hardy enough to go through labor without direct supervision, and Moon shone down on the results: five healthy, wriggling puppies. Their fur was still stained with the residue of the birth canal, they would be blind and deaf for weeks because that was the natural state of puppies who'd just entered the world, but they were healthy. Too young for anything but instinct, and that had them trying to crowd in next to their mother's belly because that was where the scent of milk was.
Except that there was another scent.
There was a tremendous mass protruding from the vulva, red and swollen and dripping with blood, like a tumor which had inverted just before being expelled almost all the way out. Almost shapeless but for two almost hornlike protrusions of flesh at the far end, with so much of the surface covered in fragile arteries and veins. It was something which never should have been exposed to the world, never should have been seen, and something in Fleur wanted to retreat, to reach a place where the giant globule of inverted biology could never follow --
-- but Fluttershy had already landed.
Bertha made a new sound: a sort of snuffling confusion. A canine whose natural features always suggested that something had recently gone horribly wrong managed a blink. Velour, on the ragged edge of collapse, added her own whimper.
"Please..."
Fluttershy immediately nodded.
"It's not as bad as it looks, Velour," the pegasus quickly said. "We can treat her. But it might take hours to put it back."
Pale silver eyes just barely managed to look up, and multiple tears fell away. "Put... it back?"
"Prolapsed uterus," Fluttershy diagnosed. "It always looks horrible -- but it can be fixed, I swear on Moon that this isn't hopeless. Fleur, help me get them all inside."
Her guardian had issued an order. The Protoceran moved.
Water. Milk. Sugar.
The water was for Velour. She wasn't very large for a unicorn: taller than Twilight, but -- not by much. Something in the pony took comfort in having a companion who outsized her and, if the need arose, could protect the mare in ways which magic meant for the art of pile weaving could not. The mare was in no way meant for hauling a massive canine, puppies, and cart all the way from Ponyville at top speed and with her pet at risk, had done it anyway.
All of the preliminary medical treatment went to the equine, because that degree of froth had placed her at greater risk. Fleur kept the small mare on her hooves, walked her around in a cooldown circle while making sure she drank, checked her temperature, and didn't bring her into the sitting room until she was sure Velour wasn't going to pass out on the spot. And then there was extra water, because that rate of tear flow could almost risk dehydration on its own.
The milk, strictly speaking, wasn't quite. Puppies were meant to suckle from their mother. The five newborns were moons away from being put on solids, and digestive systems which were being asked to truly function for the first time weren't up to tackling the unchanged lactation of any other species. So you took distilled water, some egg yolk, a little yogurt, some corn syrup, added it all to a touch of cow's milk -- and then the results had to be thoroughly blended.
Fleur took care of that part. It was something she could do.
The results were divided among multiple small bottles, all of which were delivered to Velour in the sitting room. She was told to watch over the puppies, giving them a warm body to rest against. A feeding schedule was presented. And that was what Velour could do, across the long hours of a spring night. Keep new hearts beating, while she waited to learn if her own would break.
The sugar was applied directly to the surface of the prolapsed uterus.
It had taken just about everything they had in the pantry, dusted and coated across the red, oozing flesh. But Fluttershy had explained the reasoning: sugar, used in this fashion, could pull excess water out of exposed living tissue. Shrinking the mass while keeping it supple enough to be manipulated.
The mastiff, sedated into something which could almost pass for sleep, nearly overflowed the examination table. They'd had to improvise an extension in order to support the inverted organ, and too much of the sugar had wound up on the elevated folding tray. Fleur had tried to pour it out as carefully as she could, but -- her control had been shaky.
She wasn't affected by the bloodscent. The natural fear had been trained away by her adoptive parents: repeated exposure until the fading had become permanent. She knew she wasn't being set off by the blood. But the sight of that horrible mass...
"I'm glad you're here," Fluttershy quietly said. "I need you, Fleur. For Bertha."
"...need me," the unicorn replied, and briefly wondered if the words had sounded forced.
"It's going to be hard," the pegasus told her. "It almost always is. But with you, it'll be easier."
"We didn't reach this in any of the books," Fleur automatically protested. "And this never happened at the ranch. I don't know what I'm supposed to do --"
"Follow my instructions," the caretaker cut in. "Exactly."
"-- I don't even know what happened --"
Fluttershy softly sighed. Moved around the examination table, examined the dripping mass of flesh.
"The swelling is starting to go down," she observed. "We can start soon. Will you pull my mane back, please? You know how that goes --"
This time, Fleur felt the desperation reach her voice. "Fluttershy --"
"-- she's strong," the pegasus quietly said. "It's why I wasn't worried about her going through labor. But that strength can be its own problem." The yellow head slowly shook. "I thought about sending a bird to the Acres."
"To -- the --" had to emerge in stages.
"It's Applejack's tenants," the caretaker explained. "This happens to cattle more than any other species. Sheep too, sometimes, but -- with them, it's easier to put it back. A cattle uterus is huge, and -- they're strong. They push. Especially when they feel it going back in. If they aren't sedated -- and sometimes, even if they are -- they'll push on instinct. It's why I had to bring Bertha so far down, so she wouldn't fight back. As much."
"But -- what even happened?" Fleur frantically demanded. "To -- make this..."
Exposed arteries seemed to pulse. Veins traced paths across hot raw flesh.
"They push," Fluttershy calmly told her. "If you're pushing... things can come out. The uterus is just -- inverted, Fleur. But it's still healthy. Velour... she must have been rushing to get here, but she padded out the cart, and -- none of the major blood vessels broke. That's one of the real risks. And we have to make sure this is clean. Get everything foreign off it, before we put it back. If you see any placental fragments, any afterbirth, then that needs to be cleaned too."
"...put it back," the unicorn just barely managed. "An organ came out of Bertha's body, and we're just going to put it back --"
Almost placid. "Yes."
"And you were going to send for Applejack," Fleur tried.
Please send for Applejack.
"Because she's seen it before. And had to help the doctors. The ones who know how to get it back where it belongs."
"So there's specialists!" Clear shot to the door, top galloping speed, I can try to levitate across the straightaways... "And they have to live close by, if they can reach the Acres in a crisis! Give me an address! If it's just in Ponyville, then I can bring them here in --"
"-- specialists in tenant medicine," Fluttershy quietly said. "They might be able to improvise for a canine. But they're not used to it. And it's spring. Their busy season, Fleur. Nopony may be available."
"Any help we can get," Fleur pushed. "Any help. I can go to the Acres myself --"
"-- I could send for Applejack," Fluttershy stated. "I did think about it. But we don't need earth pony strength for this, not when there aren't cattle involved. We need delicacy. This is vet work. And we're the vets."
Yellow feathers gently brushed against Fleur's side. She barely noticed.
I'm not.
I'm still studying and we never got this far.
I don't have the mark.
I can't --
The next thought arrived. It appeared instantly, fully formed, with no effort or labor involved, and Fleur felt as if she would have given anything to have never birthed it at all.
She felt her eyes going wide. The tail starting to lash. And she almost tried to fight the words, hold them back, but -- they pushed their way out.
"You said this happens to cattle."
"It's most common with them. Fleur --"
Her volume didn't change. Just the intensity, rendering the words into something very much like a soft scream. "Can it happen to ponies?"
The pause was just a little too long.
"I'm not a doctor," Fluttershy quietly said. "You'd have to ask Dr. Mester. The next time we're in. Fleur, I need you..."
Beneath a powder-free coat, ribs heaved. The unicorn wondered if they would erupt through the skin.
Don't run.
Don't run.
"...what do you need me to do?"
"Fourth drawer down, leftmost cabinet," Fluttershy softly instructed her. "The black cloth bag. We're going to need that."
It gave her something to look at which wasn't the mass. Fleur turned, trotted over when she didn't strictly need to, ignited her horn and followed instructions --
-- the fabric was utterly clean, and the strangely-shaped metal contents looked as if they'd never been used.
As carefully as she dared, "Fluttershy?"
"Disinfectant next. And warm water. We're going to need a bag which won't leak." Rather clinically, "You'll put the uterus in the bag. I'll dilute the disinfectant, and then we'll pour the mix in --"
She let the desperation coat her words. She needed to be heard. "-- have you ever done this before?"
Silence, and it didn't last long enough.
"I know the theory," Fluttershy stated. "I've read the articles. And I know that we shouldn't try to move her again. Trying to fetch Genia, bringing her in from town... it might take too long. This is an organ outside the body, Fleur. Time matters. Genia's good, so much better than Sweetbark ever was, and I'm glad the palace found her to divide up the work -- but we're the ones who are here now. So we're the ones who have to do the job."
It began.
It could be argued that working with Fluttershy was part of what had brought them together. Something which had started shortly into Fleur's sentence, because she'd told herself it was easier to be in the examination room than to hemorrhage endless hours while waiting outside it.
The shared labor had brought them together. Or perhaps it had simply closed the trap.
The organ...
...temperature didn't really register to the surface of a field. The corona didn't conduct that way. Any reactions thus became psychosomatic and because there were days in which it felt like everypony in Equestria was crazy, the delusion that you could get a thermal sensation that way was just about constant. But when it came to the oppressive heat of the warm, slippery, bloody vein-covered mass... nothing truly registered, or ever could. Fleur kept telling herself that, and insisted to her psyche that it had to be true.
Temperature didn't conduct through a field.
But you could get a sense of the texture.
Fluttershy had to keep giving her instructions and in terms of general directions, it could be said that every last one of them was familiar. Lift. Examine. Clean. Disinfect. Check for debris. Push. There wasn't a single order on the list which Fleur hadn't done before. There was just the decidedly non-minor issue of having to go through all of it with a massive, recently-extruded blob of reproductive flesh. Something which Fleur happened to possess inside of her own body, and she was still waiting for some degree of reassurance about hers not having the potential to put on an outside appearance.
Texture... oh yes, you could definitely get a sense of that through a field. And Fleur had used her corona to hold back the edges of carefully-inflicted wounds, separate layers of tissue, plus there had been a few hairballs extracted and that wasn't exactly a pleasant sensation. None of it compared to the experience of moving an extruded, raw, living, and not-exactly-where-it-should-be uterus.
She'd butchered animal and monster corpses on the ranch. Fleur didn't consider herself to be particularly good at it, and her parents had quickly concluded that her talents didn't really lie in that direction: she possessed enough skill to be decent at such duties in the kitchen, but -- that was it. The majority of what such trials had originally been good for was desensitizing her to the bloodscent. And now, several years down the line, they were also providing what felt like a fully-accurate basis for comparison.
Moving the uterus was exactly like manipulating a recently-rendered corpse. One with all of the skin removed, half of the muscles gone, and the deboning process complete. And, at just about the moment, you were about to place it within the freezer for storage, having it pulse. Twist. Shift and vibrate and come very close to breath, because it was still alive.
She couldn't get a true sense of the organ's warmth through the field. But psychosomatics weren't known for being reasonable, and her brain kept insisting that there were layers of hot meat being pressed against her frontal lobes and she really wanted it to STOP.
But Fluttershy kept issuing instructions. And the charge had to obey.
Bertha was... mostly oblivious. Fluttershy had assured Fleur that there wasn't a tremendous amount of pain involved in the extrusion: in fact, when it came to cattle, some of them had to be informed about the gigantic mass which was now hanging from their --
Don't vomit.
Don't vomit.
Aim away from --
-- swallow it back...
...rinse out my mouth.
But there had still been sedation. Powerful muscles had recently pushed. A sleeping canine wouldn't snap or try to escape -- but those same muscles, at the moment the body sensed an intrusion, might try to push back.
The sugar did its job: the organ involuted somewhat, brought down to dimensions which merely looked to be roughly three hundred percent of what the mastiff's body could accommodate. It was cleaned. And they had to be so careful, because the tissue was surprisingly fragile. No hoof contact was possible. Teeth couldn't come anywhere near it. If one of the major uterine arteries snapped, then... they would have a new, decidedly urgent problem. It was all done with tools carefully applied to the surface, and the cautious pressure of Fleur's field.
Blood dripped from the flesh, became entangled with the corona's energies and flowed around the interior of the field bubble in red rivers. Liquids tended to do that.
She was told to knead the flesh slightly and carefully: something which was necessary before trying to put the organ back. The texture embossed itself onto her brain.
And then she had to push.
Most of that was the tools. The tools were necessary to maintain the pressure, because Bertha's body kept trying to expel what it now considered to be an unwelcome intruder. Fleur got a quarter-hoofwidth to slip inside again, the dog would make a strictly casual effort, and then it would all come back out. Each specialized instrument was necessary to keep the force constant. The only thing more constant was the risk of applying too much of that force and tearing the uterine wall.
Fluttershy... mostly watched. She did what she could with the tools, but she needed to keep her jaw clear. Somepony had to give Fleur instructions.
The pegasus tried to keep the unicorn's morale up. Humor was invoked. At one point, Fluttershy told a story about a doctor who'd been trying to treat a cattle case, using a clean cloth sheet to keep the exposed organ away from a barn's grime. Replacing the organ for cattle frequently required marathon sessions, and the doctor had been surprised to find herself on the verge of setting a world record. Right up until the moment she discovered that she'd actually been pushing the flesh through a rip in the sheet.
...Fluttershy still wasn't funny.
It had to be the tools. A unicorn couldn't move any object which was fully inside another. Vision was also a problem. Every time Fleur got a section of living meat to slip a little closer to where it belonged, her corona lost that much more of its grip.
She pushed. The dog unconsciously pushed back. Fleur strained, fought, concentrated, tried to maintain focus and as long as she was pushing, she could push against the desire to stop, what was becoming an absolute need to vomit, and there was also this rim of grey at the edge of her vision and she could push against that too. In theory, if she pushed back against all of it with all the strength she had to give, she would fall into a personal darkness and then everything would become somepony else's problem.
Her field began to waver. At one point, the bubble developed multiple small gaps. Blood dripped onto the floor, flowed around her hooves. She wasn't sure if any of it had gotten into her fur, and couldn't afford to look. And she was aware that she normally would have felt the liquid against her skin, but... as senses went, touch apparently wasn't currently important. Her entire body seemed to have gone numb. Prioritizing for sight and the half-tangible sensations from her field's feel.
Fluttershy kept giving instructions. There might have been times when feathers brushed against her, reassuring her that the pegasus was still there. Fleur couldn't really register that either, and -- it didn't seem to matter.
She pushed.
She pushed.
She pushed.
The most complicated instruments in the little kit were designed to rotate the uterine horns. This was necessary to reestablish the organ's place within the body's cavity. Fluttershy made it very clear that without getting the fleshy horns properly situated, there was an increased chance for the uterus to come out again. And it all had to be judged by sensation, because the bone-glow screen couldn't show how an organ was seated and cutting Bertha's abdomen for a more direct look had a chance to make everything worse. The canine's body was already strained.
The way you tested to see if the horns were reseated was to use the tool's soft end to try and shake them loose. From the inside. The process was carefully explained to Fleur, and then Fluttershy patiently waited until the unicorn stopped choking on repressed vomit.
Lavaging the interior of the replaced uterus was the simplest part. Take a sterile saline solution and rinse. Just in case. After that, it was a vulval stitch, because the first full day after a uterine prolapse was the most likely period to see it happen for the second time and the stitching was supposed to help prevent that. Some of the time.
Bertha was given herbs with anti-inflammatory properties, along with some basic antibiotics. Fleur's field, now flickering at the edges, massaged the dog's throat. Made her swallow.
The unicorn looked up, and light hit her pupils like a spear.
Fleur recoiled. Her dock nearly went into one of the cabinets, the attempt to keep that from getting jammed sent her forward, produced impact, and the bloodstained tray table loudly crashed to the floor --
The "What happened?" hit before the first echo. "Is everything all right in there?" Quavering, "Is Bertha --"
"-- it's already over," Fluttershy carefully called back. "It was just a falling tray, Velour. Just a tray..."
"Can..." They both heard her swallow. "Can I come in? Is she going to be..."
Five puppies united in a chorus of tiny whimpering noises. Their mother shifted in her sleep.
"I'll come out," the pegasus replied. "She should be all right, Velour. But she'll have to stay here for at least a day. The puppies, too."
"...she'll be okay?" The eternal sound of hope.
"I think so. Her prognosis is good. We have to be sure."
The barest wisp of an exhale. "...all right..."
The pegasus turned to face Fleur. Two weary eyes regarded fully-exposed features.
"...you're strained," Fluttershy softly said. "Please don't lie about it: I know that's where the reaction came from. I've seen it from Twilight and Rarity, after they overexert. It wasn't a lot of weight, but -- too much field use, too many fine adjustments. You need rest, Fleur." A little sadly, "But you can't leave the room just yet. Not when you're this covered in blood, and Velour is -- still on edge. Once she's calmer, after I send her home... then you can go up the ramp. Take a bath. I'll help you wash up. But for now, wait here."
Fluttershy slowly trotted past her. Left the examination room. It was just Fleur, the sleeping dog, and a preview of everything the unicorn could look forward to in her personal future.
Her eyes went down. Looking away from the light, towards the titanium circlet around her left foreleg.
And for the first time in over a year, the word echoed in her strained mind.
The overwhelming desire.
Run.
Stats
Page generated in 0.016 seconds
Total duration
848 users online
1,031,887 hits today, 1,960,719 yesterday
FIMFiction
My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Fanfiction
Designed and coded by knighty & Xaquseg - © 2011-2024
Follow & Support Us
Support us
SubStar
Chat!
Discord
Follow us
Twitter
MLP: Friendship is Magic® - © 2024 Hasbro Inc.®
Fimfiction is in no way affiliated with or endorsed by Hasbro Inc.®
Jesus! That was so dark! Awesome stuff. Pretty grim too. Thank you for suffering through the anguish involved in the research to make this chapter happen. And I thought prolapsed ANUSES were scary!
Happy Valentine's Day
I get the impression
Fleur tested positive
Oh, the title is more directly referring to things than I expected.
Fleur's not handling it as well as Fluttershy, but Fluttershy's helping her through it well!
...
Maybe talk to Twilight about that? Not that *that's* likely to happen.
...
Yeah. Mark Swap memories!
...
Oh, good. I thought she actually did knock herself out, that wouldn't have been good for anyone.
...
Oooh. Well, she stopped herself from doing it before... Does she still have the same resolve? Cadance trusted in the power of love...
...
Typos:
pleasant sensation None > pleasant sensation. None
close to breath > close to breathe
Prolapsed uterus, fun. I'd be squicked out, but I've watched Dr. Pol.
This was brutal. Poor Fleur. Excellent work conveying how rough this is on her.
For a Valentine Day chapter, it might be one of the most appropriate chapter ever with how many babies are conceived that day. It's good to pass the trauma along.
Great to see my fav story update!
well-described. I had to take a break (not criticism, it's very visceral (ha!) and I really empathized with Fleur).
I did wonder if you'd lampshade the equine tendency to prolapse (not near as bad as cattle, but there's multiple reasons a vet is on-call), and Fluttershy's lack of answer was perfect there.
11826267
Oh goddess is HAS been a year since I left that comment!
....I also haven't read this story yet which is honestly shocking. What's kicker-verse?
Harrowing chapter! There is nothing quite as horrific as having to face the many ways our flesh and blood can malfunction, and I can only sympathize with the many fears brought on by childbirth.
I will admit to maybe skimming a few passages for my own comfort…
Accurately written to surprising detail. Holy moly. Definitely summoned to my mind the one time I've seen a prolapsed uterus.
Thank you for the chapter, estee
Poor Fleur. When your wanting a child that's the last thing you want to see and think about. But now let's tell her about Foal Slippers.
11825312
Same
Welcome to the Wide World of Dairy Farm Sports. Yes, I've played the game of Hold That Until The Vet Arrives before as a kid growing up on the farm. That's why I'm in IT. Motherboards don't prolapse.
I got that reference! Not as good a story as the phone prank the doc plays on Tristan, later...
I normally read fanfic on my lunch break.
Ok should advertise their diet scheme.
👍
... did you just give Fleur a brand-new *second* PTSD?
11826289
Probably the verse initially focusing on the dramedy sexcapades of Cloud Kicker and then getting outshined, imo, by its two side series exploring the distant past of Equestria and an exotic locale in the form of a pirate infested hive of scum and villainy featuring an alternate take of "Where did Sunset run off to?"
"at just about the moment, you were about to place"
"at just about the moment you were about to place"?