The story of Nurse Redheart's life before Ponyville.
Before Nurse Redheart moved to Ponyville, she led a life in the busy city. Her only goals were to find a job, help other ponies, and pay the rent. She never counted on finding love... or having everything she cared about torn apart.
(Note: Completely inaccurate in any representation of medical practices.)
Those were the words written on the wall of Redheart’s new apartment. They were painted in long black streaks over the plaster, covering the space between two windows.
Redheart couldn’t bring herself to move from the doorway, with her mouth half open, and one hoof still placed firmly on the cold light switch. Surely the message was a prank left behind from the previous tenant, or the mover ponies. After all, they had only just been there two days prior.
She pulled her gaze away and looked down at the floor. Strewn out about her were the cardboard boxes that contained all her things from her parents’ home. Some were stacked in piles, while others laid by themselves on the floor. But none of them were opened yet, and all of them were placed well away from that far wall.
Carefully, as to avoid stepping on anything, she went inside and tried to shut the door behind her. It stuck most of the way there, and she had to kick it again before it clicked into place. A single chip of green paint fell from it and floated to the ground.
It’s fine, she told herself. Green wasn’t her favorite color anyway.
The bulb in the room flickered for a moment, and her heart leapt. She backed up against the door, her hind leg crunching down into one of the boxes. But the light went calm again, its faint buzz filling the room once more. And the words still loomed on the far wall, unchanged.
With a grimace, Redheart pulled her hoof free from the box. To her relief, it had only been filled with her “towels,” which was also labeled on its front in marker.
She turned back to the living space, surveying its contents. The most dominant thing there was a battered brown couch that played sentry in the middle of the room. It was faced away from her, toward the windows, which made her wonder if there had been something else there before those spiteful words. But most everything else had been taken away. There were places in which pictures had clearly hung, but no longer, and scuff marks on the wood where a heavy piece of furniture had been moved. The only other thing standing was a floor lamp which tilted dangerously to one side. It would have been nice if they had thrown it out for her.
Without a second glance toward the black streaks, Redheart trotted forward over the creaky floorboards, entering through the one of only two other doors in the apartment. This one led to the kitchen, and more importantly, the refrigerator. At least they had left her the appliances. The landlady had promised her they would, but still...
She smiled at them; the old rusting appliances that somehow managed to work, even after the years of abuse. Or at least they did when she had first checked out the place.
Biting her lip, she walked over to the stove and lifted a hoof up to the knob. With a click, one of the burners hummed to life, and she let out sigh of relief. Clicking it off again, she returned to the living space and stopped by the first window. She could see the black letters waiting for her, even larger up close.
She forced her eyes away, gazing out through the dirt-stained glass. The city of Fillydelphia spread out before her, its lights shrouded in the late evening fog. Down below, taxi carts still rumbled over the cobbled streets, taking their patrons in and out of sight. Across the way sat a local bank and a flower shop among other tenant buildings. Redheart could think of no two places more different. The bank was broad and proud, standing out in the mist with its smooth stone surface which looked down on anypony who passed. The flower shop, on the other hoof, did its best to blend in. It huddled close to the tenant building aside it, made from the same rough bricks, and sported a simple green awning that read “Fresh Flowers” on it. The windows above had small cast-iron balconies, some of which were decorated in various colors of flora. She made a mental note to visit such a quaint place when the weather was nicer.
She peeled herself away from the glass, and trotted quickly across the room, trying to ignore the words that hung in the corner of her eye. She stumbled into her bedroom, almost falling in her haste to escape. Steadying herself, she looked up to see if the previous tenant had left her anything there.
The room was almost barren, except for a wooden bedframe and a squat dresser, with its drawers hanging open. They hadn’t even given her the wool carpet.
She took a deep breath, trying to bring back her earlier smile. It didn’t work.
She considered looking at the bathroom again, which was situated through a door in the back of her bedroom. But she knew it would only bring more disappointment. The sink dripped, the toilet was too low, and the shower worked only in cold or colder. And those were about the only things that could fit in the cramped space. It was easily the worst thing about the apartment... or at least it had been.
Redheart turned back, immediately heading for her unpacked boxes instead of looking toward that wall. She was going to have her first day at the hospital early the next morning, and her things were not going to unpack themselves. Sure, she could have asked a neighbor to help. It wasn’t that late. But the very thought of randomly trying to introduce herself made her dizzy.
She dug her hooves into the folds of the first lonely box, and pulled open the flaps. Inside it were the items that typically went on her nightstand. On top was a framed picture of her family. She picked it up tenderly, looking at a younger reflection of herself. Her lily-pink mane had been shorter then, barely reaching her shoulders, where her mum and dad each had a hoof resting. She wished her parents could have been helping her now. Maybe she shouldn’t have moved all the way to the other side of the city. What if her job fell through, and she couldn’t make rent? Or if her parents needed help, and she wouldn’t know about it? She had convinced herself that those were stupid questions, but not anymore. A shiver went down her spine, and it wasn’t from the draft in the room.
She spun around, her eyes darting to the far wall. The words hadn’t moved. They were just hanging there on the plaster in the same streaky black paint, framed by the windows and the growing darkness outside.
Everything you love will fall apart.
The portrait accidently slipped from her hooves and shattered on the floorboards below.
Redheart awoke the next morning to her alarm clock vibrating against her chest. Its metal bells were muffled by her alabaster coat and hooves, which had wrapped around it. She uncurled herself slowly, stretching out on her side and feeling the cramps that had settled in overnight. She had spent the night on the floor by the bedframe, behind a locked door. The solitary box she had opened sat next her, its contents scattered partly around it. Yawning, she blindly shifted her hoof and switched off the alarm.
Stillness filled the apartment, the dust motes drifting slowly in the first rays of dawn. Even the city outside seemed quiet, as if afraid to disturb the early morning.
Redheart climbed to her hooves, trying to remember why she hadn’t unpacked.
Procrastination never helped anypony, she thought, quoting the words of her mother.
With reluctant strides she made her way to the bathroom, not ready to wake up or endure the confined space. The linoleum floor was sticky under her hooves, and the reflection of herself cringed in the small mirror above the sink. She nudged on the warm water, careful to avoid the rusted stains, and brought her hooves to the sink’s edge. A steady drip had started from beneath it; a quiet plinking rhythm to accompany the whining pipes.
Blinking heavily, Redheart pushed her forelegs under the running water, which was still only a little less than cold. She shivered, but scrubbed away the grime from walking through her apartment, until her coat was a shade brighter. Then she plunged her nose under the stream and jolted back, shaking away the last remnants of sleep. Her face was still damp when her eyes reopened, but at least she was seeing clearly. Or, at least as much as one could in a smudged mirror. What she could tell was that her mane was a disappointment. It was lying flat against her neck, and was tangled and knotted from being slept upon. But without anypony else, there was no way of fixing it. Unless she wanted to sort through her boxes until a proper brush could be found, and she couldn’t remember which of the million boxes they were in.
Redheart huffed and turned away, exiting the bathroom with as few steps as possible. The floor still stuck to her back hooves, but at least her front ones were clean and dry. She hurried to the door of her room and unlatched it, pulling it aside and slipping through to her living space.
She stopped in place, the floorboards groaning underhoof. The wall between the windows was still covered by the black letters that had escaped her memory. But now they didn’t seem so menacing in the daylight, with a golden sky growing behind them.
She walked away from them and went to her boxes, cautiously stepping around the broken glass from her picture and pulling aside a box marked “warm clothes.” She tugged it open, ignoring the taste of cardboard, and drew out a bright blue overcoat from the top. With a quick glance back at the wall, she laid down and pulled the garment over her, expertly slipping her forelegs through the sleeves. Then after fetching the key from the peg by the door, she stepped out and locked it behind her.
It was only a joke, she reminded herself and hurried over to the stairs, praying she wouldn’t be late.
The lobby of Redheart’s apartment complex resembled much of her own apartment. It was mostly vacant, with only a single seating area opposite the landlady’s office. The floor was the same unfinished wood, and the walls were made of multi-colored brick. She trotted over to the frosted glass door labeled with “East Villa Apartment” and rapped twice on its frame.
Somepony barked from the other side, and their voice was followed by slow hoofsteps. The door squealed opened, revealing the face of an elderly mare with an excessively curly mane. It had been dyed so deeply brown that it almost appeared black.
“What do yah want?” she grumbled, eyeing Redheart up and down with a heavy squint. A pair of red spectacles hung unused around her neck.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” Redheart smiled. “But I’m the new tenant in room 315, and I—”
“I know who you are,” the mare snapped. “Gave yah your key last night. So what is it? Broken stove? Leaky faucet?”
“Well yes, but—”
“Fine,” she said and turned back to her office. “I’ll have Mister Gorse look at it while you’re out.”
“No! That’s not why I’m here,” Redheart said, hastily following her in.
The landlady sat down at her desk and lifted her glasses up onto her nose, perusing the documents lying before her. “That’s what everypony bothers me for, Hun. I’m used to it.”
Redheart held her breath, suddenly finding it very warm as she waited to see if the old mare had finished. When it appeared to be safe, only then did she speak. “Somepony defaced my wall!”
The landlady glanced up with a rather incredulous look on her face. “Impossible. I just cleaned your room yesterday. Nopony has been in or out of there since.”
As if I trust your word, Redheart thought, and felt a rather pressing need to ask what exactly the landlady cleaned, because the state of her home suggested quite the opposite. “I don’t mean to be rude,” she said. “But I don’t care how the paint got there, I just want it gone. Can you please ask Mister Gorse to do that?”
The landlady muttered something and pointed her nose back at the documents on her desk.
Redheart squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself to take another, very long, inhale of musty office air. “Could you please repeat that?”
“I will see to it he checks into your problem,” the old mare ground out the last word like a chunk of salt, and not for a moment did she look up from her papers. “Now don’t you have some place to be?”
Redheart left without another word. She practically galloped to the front door, shoving through it and out onto the windy street. She was immediately glad she had brought her overcoat. The sun still wasn’t high enough to shine over the city buildings, and the rough sidewalk quickly sapped away the heat she had gathered in the landlady’s office. Now she had four blocks to cross before getting to the hospital, and as she thought about it, Redheart had no idea what time her alarm had been set for.
She quickly waved a hoof for a taxi, many of which had already started their rounds. One of them flew by her with a passenger already in tow. The gruff stallion who was riding in it looked like he could barely afford any fare at all.
As if I’m made of bits, she thought miserably. Her eyes shot wide. My bits! I left them in the apartment!
She cursed, then immediately bit her tongue for doing so. She had turned in a full circle, trying to decide what to do when the sound of rattling wheels tumbled over the cobblestones beside her.
“Where you off to miss?” the cabby asked, grinning beneath his stubble.
“I—I’m sorry,” Redheart stammered, already trotting down the sidewalk. “I can’t pay, I need to run.”
“Whoa, slow down there,” the cabby said, following after her. “If you need to be somewhere, I can take you there quick.”
She only slowed down a little. “I already told you, I can’t pay. I forgot my bits.”
“It’s free of charge for a fine mare like you,” he said, still beaming. “Well, so long as it’s not too far.”
Redheart stopped, even though her heart was racing. “Fillydelphia General Hospital? It’s four blocks—”
“Four blocks south on East Main Street,” the cabby finished for her. “Hop on.”
She hesitated despite her need to rush. Back with her parents, she had rarely needed to use a cab, and the thought of him charging down the street at full gallop was a little terrifying.
“Well?” he rasped. “I thought you were in a hurry.”
“I just work there, you know,” Redheart explained, while climbing onto the cart’s hard platform. “There’s no emergency.”
“Miss, in my book, being late for work is an emergency.”
And that was the only warning she got before he tore down the cobblestones, the cart rattling like a mobile earthquake.
Redheart stumbled through the hospital’s revolving doors, shaking and out of breath, even though she had only galloped from the street corner. Immediately the atmosphere changed from the blistering, biting chaos outside, to a surreal calm.
The lobby of Fillydelphia General was immaculately clean. White walls were decorated by paintings of serene landscapes and hidden by lush plants that rose out of their ornate pots. The benches were placed between them and contained a small assortment of ponies that kept a generous amount of space between one another. On one side, a record player was creating a soft melody that most of the patients only seemed to be half listening to.
Not wishing to waste any time, Redheart trotted over to the welcome desk where a pleasant looking unicorn was watching her.
“Um... hello, I’m here for the new nursing position?” Redheart told her, shifting back and forth on her hooves.
The unicorn’s face wilted and a sad smile crossed her lips. “I’m so sorry, but we already filled that position.”
“No— no I meant that I am the new hire,” Redheart said with a twinge of annoyance.
“Oh, so you’re Redheart! Well why didn’t you say so?” The mare beamed as if she had just been given a present. “I’ll call up Miss Shale. She will be happy to get you started.”
The secretary’s horn sparkled a minty green as she lifted a corded phone to her ear and punched in a number. While it rang, she sat, grinning. Her obsessive stare made Redheart’s cheeks flush, so she studied the tiles at her hooves to avoid the mare’s gaze.
“Hello, Miss Shale? This is Cotton Pop.” There was a pause, and the secretary let out a bubbly laugh. “No, but I have that new nurse here for you... yes, she certainly looks like a good one.”
Redheart glanced up at those words to find the secretary winking at her.
Why didn’t I fix my mane! She fretted, not able to shake the feeling that Cotton Pop was probably making fun of her.
“Great! Thanks so much.” The phone clicked back into place. “Miss Shale will be right down to fetch you.”
“Thank you.” Redheart tried to smile back, but Cotton Pop was grinning so widely it made her jaw hurt just looking at it. “S-should I sit down?” she asked.
“You don’t have to,” Cotton Pop said, with her horn flaring up again. A tiny wrapped candy floated up to Redheart’s nose. “Mint?”
“Oh, uh, no thank you,” Redheart said, already backing up from the desk. “I think I’ll just...” she turned away and found a place to sit in the corner.
No sooner had she climbed onto the bench, did a nurse enter the room from the hall. She was a unicorn, like the secretary; but unlike Cotton Pop’s brightly colored coat, the nurse was a deep grey with a navy blue mane that clashed with her white uniform. Her dark eyes scanned the room for a moment before finding Redheart. She waved her over with a hoof and pulled out a clipboard that she had been levitating behind herself.
Redheart’s breath quickened as she trotted over, somehow more anxious now that Miss Shale was looking at the clipboard instead of her. Only when she approached did the nurse look up.
“You’re Redheart?” Shale asked in a bored monotone.
“Yes, Ma’am.”
Shale circled around her and glanced at her flank. “Cutiemark matches up,” she muttered, making a few marks on the clipboard with a pencil. “It’s procedure, you understand.”
Redheart wasn’t sure if it was a question, so she just nodded. It was getting really warm in the hospital now, and she started tugging at her overcoat sleeves.
“You will need to take that off, of course,” Shale noted, while trotting the rest of the way around her. “I’ll take you to the staff room first so you can change,” she said, already headed back down the hall by the time she had finished talking.
Before Redheart could stop herself, she looked over at the welcome desk, as if the secretary could help her. But Cotton Pop only bobbed her hoof in a little wave, looking slightly ridiculous with a piece of candy puffing out her one cheek.
Redheart’s face flushed again and she hurried after Miss Shale, whose short-cropped tail was already halfway down the hall.
“This isn’t a place for sightseeing,” Shale said, still writing on her clipboard.
“I’m sorry, Ma’am,” Redheart stammered. Please don’t let me ruin this job!
“And you can stop calling me that. It makes me sound twice my age. It’s Miss, or Nurse Shale to you and everypony else.”
Redheart bit her lip. Of course she’s not that old. She doesn’t look old. Why do I have to be so nervous? “I’m really sorry, I didn’t know.”
Miss Shale ignored the apology. Instead, she stopped in her path and pointed to a door on their left. “Through here.”
Redheart stepped through the doorway and heard Shale shut it behind them. The nurse hurried forward, weaving between the small dining tables that were spaced around the room, and to a set of cabinets at the far side. She opened one and lifted out a nurse’s smock and hat with her magic, dropping the set at a table near where Redheart still stood.
“Put those on,” Shale told her, while taking yet more notes. “And you can leave that jacket here.”
“Should I—”
“Anywhere is fine,” Shale said, waving a hoof at her.
Feeling a bit vexed, Redheart struggled until she had removed her overcoat and placed it in a rumpled heap next to her uniform. She was almost glad there weren’t any mirrors in the staff room, because her mane now felt as if it had gone completely out of control. Thankfully, the nurse’s uniform was a bit easier to handle, as the top was light and loose fitting, and the hat miraculously stayed atop her head after the first try.
Nurse Shale didn’t once glance away from her clipboard during the whole process. She just flipped through its pages with mild interest, her eyes flickering over lines of notes.
Redheart coughed to draw her attention, in what she hoped was a polite way.
“Wonderful,” Shale said, without the slightest conviction. “Now if you will follow me, I’ll show you around.” She trotted past Redheart, opening the door by magic, and nearly hitting her with the floating clipboard as she went.
Redheart followed the nurse back into the hall, doing her best to keep up. She barely had enough time to track her surroundings as one bland hallway blurred into the next. Now and then they would pass a room which Miss Shale would tell her about in muttered monotone. Inevitably Redheart learned almost nothing about those places, but she was too afraid to ask her guide to repeat herself.
They also crossed paths with a few other nurses on the way, any and all of which looked far more pleasant than Miss Shale. Redheart tried giving them reluctant smiles, but more often than not they seemed in too much of a hurry to notice.
Just when Redheart was losing all hope of the tour ending, they stopped in front of a pair of double doors set with wired windows and a bright green sign over the top.
“This is the Emergency Wing,” Shale said, the neon glow reflecting in her eyes while she stared at it. “There shouldn’t be any reason for you to go in here.”
“Oh.” Redheart felt her stomach flop with a mixture of disappointment and relief. She knew from her training how hectic the ER could be, but in light of the vastly exciting tour she had just received, she couldn’t help feeling a bit let down.
Miss Shale walked away without another word, and Redheart wondered why they had even bothered stopping in the first place. That was, until she saw the flicker of movement through the glass panes.
“Uh, Nurse Shale...”
The grey mare spun around just as the doors were flung aside, emitting another nurse who skidded to a halt before them. She was breathing heavily, with sweat trickling down her face. But unlike the other nurses, this one was wearing faded green medical scrubs, complete with covered hooves and a surgical mask that made her eyes stand out. They were the color of maple leaves, traced with thin black eyeliner, and when they turned to Redheart, she quickly glanced away.
“Great timing—” the nurse gasped, her voice muffled through the mask. “Miss Shale, I need to borrow this nurse. Doctor’s Orders.”
Shale looked as if she had just swallowed a bug and was trying very hard to get the taste out of her mouth. “This is her first day here, Mayweather. I won’t have her running errands for Doctor Zimmer because he’s bored. Find somepony else.”
With a shimmer of orange magic, Mayweather removed her mask, breathing a little easier. “He wanted the first nurse I could find,” she explained. “It’s for a procedure.”
Redheart felt the heat drain from her face. An operation? I’m not ready for that!
“Then definitely not!” Shale snapped, voicing Redheart’s objections. “He already has a team of surgeons and this nurse is hardly qualified.”
“Relax, it’s just some cleanup work,” Mayweather assured her, before casting a smirk at Redheart. “Bunsen is acting a bit off today and we only need a quick fill in.”
Shale muttered some choice description very different from those on the tour, before stuffing her clipboard into her uniform pocket. “Fine, send her back as soon as it’s done, or I’m filing a complaint against the Doctor.” Then she turned on a hoof and left.
“Always a pleasure, Miss Shale!” Mayweather called after her.
The grey nurse only flicked her tail in response and disappeared around a corner.
“Don’t mind her, she’s always in a mood,” Mayweather said, still looking at the spot Shale had disappeared. “But we should really hurry back.”
“Are you sure there isn’t somepony else more qualified?” Redheart asked, her hooves glued to the floor.
Mayweather paused halfway back through the doors. “Well of course there is, but beggars can’t be choosers,” she grinned as if it was a joke, then trotted away.
Redheart only just made it through the doors before they shut, and was once again rushing to keep up. The only notable difference in the Emergency Wing was that it was even more bland than the rest of the hospital. No pictures hung on the walls, only monitors or safety signs, and the very occasional cushioned bench provided any kind of seating. The oddest thing, however, was how quiet the placed seemed to be. No other nurses traveled the halls and most of the rooms they passed were vacant. But almost at the end of the hall, Mayweather stopped before an open doorway.
“Doctor Zimmer?”
Redheart warily walked up aside her as she spoke, staring into the dark room which was lit only at its center, where a bright blue stallion was lying on a surgical chair with a set of medical instruments dancing about him in green magic. Next to the chair was an aging Doctor, his horn glowing the same color green, and casting his pale grey coat in a sickly color. His ears perked at his name and he made one last movement with a tool before turning his attention to them. At first he said nothing, his eyes twinkling as they passed between Mayweather and Redheart.
“Let me guess,” he spoke in a deep, nasally voice. “First day?”
She opened her mouth, but came up short on words and quickly nodded instead.
The Doctor glanced at Mayweather again, and she smiled in some unspoken agreement. “So what’s your name, rookie?” he asked. “I have to know what to shout when all I need is a bloody scalpel. Celestia knows, some ponies can’t even handle that.”
“Redheart,” she said, hoping her voice wasn’t shaking.
Doctor Zimmer returned his attention to the stallion before him, his tools swirling into action again. “Well, pull up a chair and buckle in, Nurse Redheart, because you’re in for one bumpy ride.”
She didn’t even flinch at his warning. A beautiful thought had formed in her head. Nurse Redheart, she beamed despite herself. I could get used to that.
It had been the most stressful twenty minutes of Redheart’s life. Even in nursing school, at the worst she had only watched a patient undergo surgery from beyond a glass window. But being in the thick of it was enough to make her heart race as if she had galloped a marathon. Sure, it had only been the aftermath to take care of, but that hadn’t been any comfort. And now her mane was frayed worse than before, if that was even possible. It was the mask though, that bothered her the most. It was scratching at her nose constantly, and had been during the whole procedure. Not to mention the condensation that had built up in it, which was now dripping back onto her from its surface.
As the other nurses left the room into the Hospital’s halls, their masks floated off quickly in various colors of magic, as if they didn’t have a care in the world. They trotted down the sleek tiled floors, lost in hushed conversation as they headed for the break room, and none of them stopped to invite her along.
“You can’t blame them,” A muffled voice said from behind her.
Redheart turned back to find Doctor Zimmer exiting the room, leaving only the unicorn, Mayweather, inside.
“For what?” she asked, hating how her own voice sounded from behind the mask.
Zimmer peeled off his own in a shroud of green that matched his eyes, and gave her an empty smile. “That bunch have known each other for almost as long as I am old. They’ve given up on making new acquaintances. You just get used to the same ugly faces I suppose.”
She bit her lip, wondering if she was supposed to laugh. But had it been a joke? It was impossible to read his face. “They don’t look that old,” she said. Or ugly.
Zimmer gave a snort for a laugh. “They’re not. But they studied together through the same school. We got lucky enough to pick them fresh out of the water. Top grades, even for unicorns.”
“Oh,” was all Redheart could think to say.
The doctor strolled away down the hall, heading in the opposite direction of his staff. Just when Redheart thought their conversation had ended, he looked back over his shoulder at her. “You got somewhere to be?”
“I— no, I don’t think so,” she said, trotting after him to make up the distance. Stupid, of course he expected me follow him. She waited for a harsh remark, but it never came.
Instead, the doctor continued down the hall, the traces of grey in his orange mane now more pronounced under the stark fluorescent lights. “So, how does an earth pony like yourself find her way into the medical field?” he asked, casually.
It was a question she had been expecting since she walked in, though not from a surgeon she had just helped after an operation. It wasn’t illogical, but maybe a little rude. Had she done poorly during the procedure? If he was comparing her to the unicorns, than probably. But how much worse? “I like helping ponies,” she said a little lamely. “I know I’m a bit underqualified, but I do my best.”
“Indeed,” he said, and took a left at the end of the hall, passing a pink nurse with a floating clipboard.
Indeed? Was he agreeing that she did her best, or that she was underqualified? She tried not to dwell on it, but the decor of the emergency wing was still about as exciting as a yawn, and not nearly as distracting. “Are there many doctors here?” she asked. If there were, at least she would still have the chance to impress somepony else.
“Besides myself?” Zimmer asked, pausing at a door very close to where Redheart had first entered the wing. “There are five others, but I very much doubt you will be seeing many of them, especially Doctor Melongrad. He’s been on sick leave more days than he’s worked. Isn’t that hysterical? A doctor who can’t cure his own cold...” he looked at her expectantly.
Redheart laughed in which more air came out than sound. It is kind of funny I guess, she thought. Then again, none of her family had much of a sense of humor, so maybe it wasn’t? Stop overthinking it!
But Zimmer seemed satisfied. He nodded curtly, a smirk still stuck on his face as he slipped through the door and held it open for her. The sign next to it read: “Office, Zimmer M.D.”
Shouldn’t I be going back to find Miss Shale? Redheart thought, glancing at the doctor and wondering if she should speak up. No, I can’t do it! The door closed softly behind her as she walked into the unfamiliar room. Half-shuttered windows filtered in light from the far end, leaving white lines across the floor and desk under them. Zimmer trotted over to the big-backed chair behind the desk and settled into it with a sigh.
“Have a seat, Nurse Redheart,” he said, making a vague gesture to the small stool opposite him.
Redheart remained up against the door, the situation suddenly very much reminding her of the night before, and the streaky black paint that would have been where the doctor was sitting. “Shouldn’t we turn on the lights?” she asked, her hoof absently drifting toward the switch.
Zimmer made no effort to stop her, but kicked his hooves up onto the table. “I would rather keep them off. When you stare into bright lights all day, you tend to prefer the dark.”
“Oh.” Her hoof slid off the light switch.
“Please, have a seat and relax. You’re not in any trouble,” the doctor explained. His horn flared up and procured a pitcher of water from a mini-fridge beside his desk. He poured some into a paper cup and left it beside the stool.
For one absurd moment Redheart thought it might be poisoned, until Zimmer poured a cup for himself. So she walked over to the stool, and with extreme caution, picked up the water between her hooves and took a sip. It washed down her throat cold and crisp, the perfect refresher after sweating for longer than normal.
The doctor emptied his cup in one swift gulp, then refilled it, all in one fluid motion of green magic. “It’s no Chardonneigh, but it’s the best we have,” he said, laughing and downing the second cup. “Now let’s get down to business.”
Redheart sat stiff in her seat as the doctor slid his legs off the desk and leaned forward, his face suddenly very serious.
“You told me you took this job because you enjoy helping ponies, correct?”
Redheart nodded. She had no idea what he was getting at, or why he invited her into his office in the first place. In the back of her mind there was a perfectly good break room somewhere with nice casual roundtables and lots of ponies around to not pay attention to her.
The doctor smiled kindly, as if reading her thoughts. “I don’t mean to alarm you, I just thought you should hear some advice that I wish somepony had given me at the start. Working at a hospital can be a very stressful job...” he poured another cup. “...and a rather thankless one too. But if you’re serious about helping ponies, then you’re in the right place. So no matter how hard the work is, never give up on them. At the end of the day it’s always worth it, understand?”
I don’t see what’s not to... “Yes?” Redheart said. I think so?
Zimmer chuckled and fell back into his chair, swallowing the third cup of water with a smack of his lips. Then with his legs back on the desk, he floated the pitcher away and returned it to the mini-fridge again. “Don’t worry, you are about to be relieved of my company. Do try to enjoy the show,” he said, winking.
Redheart was about to ask what he meant when she heard the clatter of hooves from the hall. Her head had only just turned enough to see the door when it slammed open against the wall.
Miss Shale stood rigid in the doorway with her nostrils flared. “DOCTOR ZIMMER!” she roared before marching forward, her clipboard pointed menacingly at her prey. “What in Celestia’s name do you think you’re doing with my nurse? Have you any idea of the repercussions for detaining her in your office without informing anypony? Do you ever think—” she scooped up his paper cup and hurled it at his head, where it bounced off and tumbled to the floor. “—about what you’re doing before you actually do it? You are a surgeon, for Celestia’s sake!”
The doctor rubbed his head were it had been assaulted. “I apologize if this meeting inconvenienced you in any way...”
Her clipboard slapped against the desk like a crack of lightning. “Don’t you dare pretend like you didn’t know exactly what my response would be to this little charade! I told Mayweather, I told her to come right back after the procedure was finished.” Miss Shale’s eyes were sharp slits of deep blue. “And I know that she had to have passed on that information to you.”
“I understand your concern, Shale. It’s only natural,” Doctor Zimmer said, retaining his good humor as he placed the weaponized cup back onto his table. “But I assure you I had only the best intentions.”
Miss Shale stared him down, and Redheart could almost feel the magic the nurse was holding back. It was like a static charge waiting to be released. “If I ever catch you alone with her again...” she let the threat go unfinished. Spinning around, she stomped over to Redheart. “Let me return that for you.”
It took Redheart a minute to realize that she meant the second paper cup, which was now crushed between her shaking hooves. “Oh... yes, of course. Thank you.”
The moment the cup was out of her hooves it was tossed back at Zimmer in a flash of bright blue magic. It just missed his ears and clattered against the windows blinds behind him.
“Up you go,” Shale told her. “We are extremely behind schedule, so I’d appreciate if you hurried.”
Redheart didn’t need to be told twice. She stumbled off her stool and obediently hurried for the door. One glance over her shoulder showed the senior nurse in hot pursuit, while the doctor still sat smugly where he’d been when the Shale storm began.
The door was slammed shut behind them almost as loudly as it had been opened. And before Redheart could blink, Miss Shale had marched her out of the emergency wing. There wasn’t much for Redheart to do but follow the nurse’s swinging blue tail down the now bustling halls. A buzzing chatter had spread through the hospital between the nurses, patients, and visitors that milled about. Amid their words she picked up some darkly muttered lines from Miss Shale, such as; “her first day, of all the nerve,” and “lucky I don’t file a harassment complaint,” which resonated with Redheart’s mixed emotions.
She still did not fully understand why the doctor had taken a special interest in her, though she doubted it was what Miss Shale believed. A part of Redheart was thrilled to be included so quickly into these uncommon events, but also more nervous than ever because of them. What if she had upset the wrong ponies? It was unlikely that she would ever see Doctor Zimmer and Mayweather again, or any of the other ponies that were at the procedure for that matter.
“Here we are,” Nurse Shale sighed, stopping at a waiting area similar to the one Redheart had first arrived through. “You will be leading ponies to their checkup appointments today. Call their names when their turn comes up, and make sure they don’t bring more than one friend or family member back with them. I will help you with the first few.”
Redheart gazed out over the waiting room filled with restless ponies of all colors and sizes shifting uncomfortably in their seats. Her ears drooped a little. The excitement was finished, but her day was far from over.
“And Redheart.” Nurse Shale leaned in closer. “It should go without say that I expect you to make a special effort to avoid Doctor Zimmer in the future, understand me?”
“Yes, Miss Shale.” That, Redheart understood loud and clear.
It could have been worse, Redheart thought, standing on the sidewalk and stretching her limbs. After the incident with Doctor Zimmer the work hadn’t been exceptionally difficult, and nopony else had yelled nearly as loud as Miss Shale after that. In fact, the checkups had given Redheart the chance to meet a lot of local ponies, most of which were rather pleasant.
But now the hospital stood behind her bathed in the setting sun, and Redheart’s overcoat was fitted snugly over her shoulders. The wind had all but vanished, and the streets were bustling with other ponies heading home from work or out for a bite to eat. The smell of street-side hayburgers lingered over the crowd and made her stomach rumble. The only food she had eaten all day was the leftovers somepony had kept in the breakroom.
If only I had some bits, she thought crossly. Now her walk home would be all the more difficult. With a heavy sigh, she slipped into the wave of ponies headed down the street.
“It could have been better,” Redheart muttered when she finally reached her apartment block. There had been exactly six food carts on the streets she had went past, the worst of which had been a steamed carrot cart that had smelled so delicious she had to hold her breath just to stop herself from running over and eating one on the spot. If that wasn’t bad enough, walking the few extra blocks after being on her hooves all day had been enough to make her muscles cramp up. Now all Redheart wanted was to lie down on a soft bed and sleep for a week. But her bed wasn’t set up yet. The mattress wasn’t even arriving until tomorrow. And there was the matter of that writing on her wall… she wouldn’t put it past her landlady to have forgotten about cleaning it. So, with all that in mind, she took a seat on a bench by the corner and gazed out across the street.
The sky was streaked red and gold over the local bank and little flower shop. The apartments between them were coming to life with windows here and there framed by the lights inside. Near the top, a little filly looked out at her through the glass. Redheart waved and the filly waved back, smiling brightly before disappearing into her apartment. Distantly, a bell rang as somepony entered the flower shop.
It wouldn’t hurt to go see it now, she figured. At least nothing would tempt her into a purchase without bits.
Getting to her hooves, Redheart weaved around a few ponies on the sidewalk and waited while a taxi rumbled past before she crossed. As the green awning grew closer she could already smell the flora inside. Small traces of soil had been tracked out of the shop beneath a slightly crooked “open” sign which hung from the door. Redheart pushed her way inside, the cheery bell greeting her as she walked over the mat. The sight made her heart melt a little, and she couldn’t stop the grin that spread over her face.
The shop was warm, lit by long hanging lights that had the hue of soft candles. Everywhere, potted flowers filled the spaces under them. They sat on green wooden tables and on the floors below them, in the corners on benches, and on the windowsill facing the streets. They weren’t organized in anyway like she expected, but mixed together in a chaotic beauty of reds, whites, pink, purples, and blues. Small puddles rippled beneath a few in the middle, drips of water still running along the sides of the ceramic pots.
Redheart closed her eyes and breathed deeply, ignoring the loud protests from her stomach. It felt as if she was in some far-off land. The sweet, exotic aroma felt so out of place from the bustling would just outside.
“Excuse me!” A mare snapped.
Redheart opened her eyes to an elderly Pegasus with a basket of daises on her back. “I— I’m sorry,” Redheart stammered and stepped aside.
“Hmph!” The old mare turned up her nose and went out the door, the bell jingling behind her.
I guess a nice shop doesn’t mean nice customers, Redheart thought, drifting toward the flowers by the window. There were purple petunias on the sill. She recognized them from her parents’ house, where her mother used to always sit them on the table. She like them because they didn’t smell too strongly but were pretty to look at, unlike her new apartment space. Standing there she could see it across the street, marked by two empty windows.
It’ll get better, Redheart told herself. After that horrid writing was gone and the rooms were furnished, it would feel more like a home. She had to believe that. And it was almost easy to picture it while she stood among the flowers, with the gentle sound of trickling water. But then it stopped for a moment, making her ear twitch, before starting up again much closer.
Redheart turned to her left to find a cream-coated mare holding a small watering can in her mouth. She was tipping it over some daffodils on the far end of the still, trying carefully not to spill much, but doing so anyway. Redheart couldn’t help but watch her as she stood up on the tips of her hooves, trying to get a better angle, only to have the watering can slip out and clatter to the floor.
“For Celestia’s sake!” the mare groaned, quickly stooping over to try and stop all the water from rushing out the top. But a large puddle of it slid across the floor and gently washed up against Redheart’s hooves. “Oh! I am so, so sorry, please have my towel,” she said, pulling out and offering what was more like a dish rag from the green apron she was wearing.
Something stirred inside Redheart as she stood there, her eyes meeting the silly young mare’s with a rag in her mouth. It was a feeling she couldn’t quite grasp hold of, but made her a bit fuzzy all over, especially with those bright green eyes staring back at her. And that two-tone mane the color of… raspberries? No, that was her stomach thinking for her again.
“Are you alright?” The mare asked after returning the rag to her apron. “I mean, I know you’re probably upset, but was there something else I could help you with? Please, I’ll do anything to fix this.”
Right, speaking not staring! But what do I say? Anything, say anything! “I— that’s fine.”
The mare blinked.
“That is, I mean it’s okay, I’m not upset,” Redheart stammered, trying to look anything but that. Because I’m not! Why are the lights in here so warm?
“Great!” The mare lightened up considerably. “So, you won’t tell the owner on me?”
“No, why would I do that?” Redheart insisted, the sudden image of a scowling Miss Shale popped into her mind.
“Well that’s a relief,” she said with a dramatic sigh. For a moment the mare turned away from her and looked out the window. “I guess you’re probably used to clumsy ponies at the hospital.”
“How did you—” Redheart stopped herself as she saw her own reflection in the window. Her nurse’s hat was still perched atop her pink mane. “There’s a few, but I don’t mind.”
The mare cast her a shy smile. “Thanks for understanding. It’s nice to meet somepony who’s willing to give second chances.”
“That’s me,” Redheart laughed, and told the pony her name.
“Redheart? That’s a perfect name for a nurse! I’m Roseluck. Did you always know you were going to help ponies for a living?”
It wasn’t something she had really thought about. “I suppose since I got my cutiemark I have.”
“Me too!” Roseluck turned out her hind leg so the rose on it was front and center. “I’ve always loved flowers, especially living in the city where ponies need something to brighten up their day.”
Redheart’s face felt especially bright-red just then. But thankfully a weathered looking stallion happened to walk by at that same moment. He skirted around the water puddle that was now slipping down a drain in the floor, and didn’t pay the mares more than a sour glace as he went.
“I better get back to work,” Rosluck said with a worried look over her shoulder.
“Oh, alright.” Redheart’s tail drooped a little. No, don’t be ridiculous, you can always stop by. But why do I care so much?
“Will I be seeing you again?” Roseluck asked, her hoof sliding under the handle of the watering can.
Her heart skipped a beat. Yes! “Probably. I don’t live too far.”
“Well, if you stop by I should be here,” Roseluck smiled before carrying off her watering can behind the next row of flowers.
It took a minute before Redheart could feel her legs again. What had just happened? She couldn’t remember feeling so… giddy before. At least not since she had started packing for her move. The day suddenly seemed much more hopeful, even though it was almost over.
On her way out, she noticed a crotchety elder mare sitting behind a desk with a sack of bits on it. The pony wore a green apron just like Roseluck’s.
“Have a nice day,” the crone muttered with all the sincerity of a half-drowned sewer rat.
“You too!” Redheart replied with genuine cheer as she trotted back outside, the bell ringing happily behind her.
All the happiness in the world seemed to be sucked out of the air by Redheart’s apartment lobby. The only light within was from the landlady’s office, which seeped through the slats of her closed shades, casting shadows that looked like prison bars on the wooden floor. If it wasn’t for the meager glow that crept in from the outside windows, the vast room would have been impossible to navigate.
Redheart shivered, picturing ghosts and strange unspeakable horrors that might lurk dark halls like the ones she now lived in. Everything is fine. You’re just overreacting again, she told herself while her hooves led her across the floor, the wooden boards creaking as they were tread upon.
“YOU!”
Readheart yelped, her rump hitting the floor as she covered her mouth.
The landlady’s door had swung upon, showing the mare’s face twisted in a disapproving glare and framed by the backlight of her office. “Not even here a day and you’re already more trouble than you’re worth! How could yah be so careless?”
What is she talking about? Redheart’s mind reeled. What did I do?
“Unless yah did it on purpose” the landlady said, now circling around her. “In which case I would have yah thrown out of this establishment immediately!”
What? No! “I don’t understand, what happened?”
The landlady stopped her pacing and fixed Redheart with a cold stare, her brown curls sporadically out of place. “So, you’re just careless then,” the old mare huffed. “Fine, but don’t you expect any more favors from Mister Gorse. It’s going to take him twice as long to do all his chores now anyway. The last thing he needs to worry about is boobytrapped apartments.”
“Boobytrapped?”
The landlady stepped closer, her wrinkles turning her frown even more severe. “What else do you call leaving broken glass in a doorway!”
My picture frame! “I— I didn’t mean to! Is he okay?”
“Of course not! You can expect a bill from me within the week. Until then, clean up your own messes,” she snapped, then turned tail and shuffled back to her office. “And I better not hear any complaints about you from the other tenants!” she said, before slamming the door shut behind herself.
Redheart fought back tears. “How could I be so stupid?” And just when her day had looked like it might turn out okay. She sniffled and wiped her eyes dry. There was no sense sitting in an empty lobby feeling sorry for herself. With a deep breath she dragged her hooves toward the stairs and started climbing them in no particular hurry. Will those horrible words still be on my wall? she wondered. Or what if there’s blood on the floor? She had seen it plenty of times at the hospital, but to have it in her home…
The numbers “315” glinted in the dim light of the third floor. Maybe “home” is a strong word for it.
“Hey there, Missy.”
Redheart stumbled back, almost falling down the stairs. “Who’s there?” Her eyes darted to the right where the voice had resonated from.
Sure enough, a crochety old stallion limped around the corner from the hall. His left forehoof was wrapped in white bandages that stood out harshly against his prune colored coat. “My apologies, I didn’t mean ta’ scare yah.”
Redheart got back to her hooves, but kept her distance. “Are you Mister Gorse?”
“Yah caught me,” he said with a smile that scrunched up his beady eyes. “But don’t you worry, I’m not here to yell at yah like my wife.”
Redheart squinted back at him. “You’re married to the landlady? Then why does she call you, Mister?”
He chuckled, showing a row of yellowed teeth. “Regalia don’t like the residents knowin’ the handypony is her husband. She’s ashamed of me, I suppose. Couldn’t hold a job of my own and ended up workin’ here, you see.”
Redheart’s gaze lingered on the stallion’s bandaged hoof as he spoke, her gut twisting into a knot.
“Hey now, don’t yah fret about that,” Mister Gorse said, tucking up his leg out of sight. “Accidents like that happen all the time round here. When you’re movin’ fragile things about, stuff gets broken, that’s how it goes.”
“I should still apologize,” Redheart said softly, “If I hadn’t left in such a hurry this morning, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt.”
Mister Gorse shook his mane. “Water under the bridge, mah lady. The only reason I waited here for yah was to say there was no harm done. You can rest well tonight knowin’ I’ll be just fine.” He stepped back as if to leave, but Redheart reached out to him.
“Would you at least let me take a look at it?”
The old stallion laughed again. “No sense in wasting the time. If the handypony can’t take care of himself, then what good is he?”
Helping somepony is never a waste of time. Redheart knew that from experience, but she wasn’t about to try and dissuade him.
“Well I best be goin’ now. Next time you need something done, leave a note under my door; room 116. What my wife doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” he said with a sly wink.
The hall felt a bit gloomier after Gorse trailed out of sight, even with his awkward gait echoing across the walls. Redheart couldn’t remember another day where she had experienced so many mixed emotions. It would be a relief when the only surprises she had to worry about were birthday parties. Or friends coming over to visit, she thought with a sigh. Then, with a bit of difficulty, Redheart pulled her room key from her overcoat and unlocked the door.
Inside, she flicked on the light, and her far wall greeted her as a blank slate. It was as if the words had never been there at all. So, he did it after all, she thought with a smiling spreading across her face. The crooked lamp had also been straightened, and a certain family photograph had been reframed and lain carefully atop an unopened box.
With great care, Redheart scooped up the picture into one of her hooves, then dug into an adjacent box for a granola bar or two. After woofing them down in a rather un-ladylike fashion, and licking her lips, she strolled across to the windows. On the other side of the street she could see the lights still on from the flower shop below. A mare walking by glanced up at her from the sidewalk, so Redheart waved, remembering the filly who had done the same. But this time the pony outside did not wave back. She quickly looked away and hurried down the street, past the bank and out of sight.
Redheart shrugged. Not every pony was bound to be as friendly as a foal.
Stepping away from the glass, she placed her family portrait on the window sill and admired the brave little pink and white filly that smiled back at her. Mom and Dad were so proud when I told them about this job. Sad… but proud. She would definitely have to send them a letter soon, once everything had settled down. At least that way they wouldn’t—
“That’s odd,” Redheart muttered. She dragged her hoof along the sill, pulling a short strand of green hair from it. Mister Gorse’s mane was grey, so it couldn’t have been his. That meant she had been right, after all the accusing the landlady had done to her for being careless, she hadn’t even cleaned her apartment. Figures, she huffed, and let the hair float to the floor.
Turning around and heading for her room, Redheart pulled the nurse’s hat from her head. It would be good for the day to be over. All she wanted now was a good night’s sleep and a fresh start.
Through the door, the empty bedframe in her room waited patiently beside the single box of bedside accessories she had opened the night before, alarm clock included.
