Of Bands and Battles

Buck you, Cacophony! Thunder thought furiously as he paced around his hotel suite's living room. Wing Beat and Power Chord were in the bedroom. The door was open, and if Thunder cared to look he would have seen Wing talking to Power, trying to get him to settle down. Even after we beat you, you won't leave my friends alone. Buck you! Thunder's thoughts fuzzed into angry incoherence as he took a pull from the bottle on the living area's small table. The fiery taste of apples and alcohol drowned his dark musings for a moment, but only for a moment.

"Thunder, will you stop that damn pacing?"

Thunder looked up to see Wing Beat in the doorway of the bedroom. He took a deep breath and forced himself to relax.

"Sorry."

"No problem. Power's asleep—finally—so just don't wake him up." She stepped into the main room and gently shut the bedroom door behind her.

"You're not staying with him?" Thunder asked.

Wing shook her head. "I'm afraid I'd wake him up if... well, y'know."

"Right," Thunder nodded slowly. Wing Beat had been having terrible nightmares since her time as Cacophony's prisoner. She sometimes screamed in her sleep. "Gotcha."

"Oh, come on," Wing Beat said suddenly as she caught sight of the half-empty liquor bottle on the table. She walked over and picked it up. "You might at least have offered to share." Without waiting for an answer, she put the bottle in her mouth and tilted her head back, letting the liquor pour down her throat.

"Uh. You want some?" Thunder asked belatedly. He gave her a second to drink, but she showed no signs of stopping. "So—"

Wing held up a hoof to indicate wait. After several more swallows she finally lowered the bottle with a harsh exhale. "Sorry, you were saying?"

"I was saying," Thunder snatched the bottle back and was dismayed to find it nearly empty, "what do we do now? About Bass, and the Battle, and everything."

Wing shook her head. "There's no way we can do the Battle now, not with Bass like that. It's only a week away, that's not enough time. I say we don't even bring it up."

Thunder nodded reluctantly. "I agree, but buck... ten thousand bits."

"It would be nice, but we really don't need the money."

She was right about that. My Metal Pony's producer had taken full advantage of Thunder's role in stopping Cacophony and bringing music back to Equestria. The band's record sales had never been better.

"Yeah, you're right," Thunder sighed. "Bass is more important right now. We'll go see him in the morning."

"Yeah." Wing walked over to the suite's minibar and pulled out a bottle of whiskey, her drink of choice. She stumbled only slightly as she brought it back to the table. She took a long pull straight from the bottle as Thunder finished off the last of the brandy.

"So, you going to share that?" Thunder asked.

Wing Beat groaned and threw a wing over her eyes as the sun poured into the suite's living area. These days, drinking herself into a stupor was the only way she could guarantee herself a decent night's sleep. It worked well enough, but it made for some rough mornings.

She half-rolled, half-fell off of the couch she'd been sleeping on. She had opted to stay there rather than going back into the bedroom she currently shared with Power Chord, just in case she had another one of her nightmares. Thunder Growl, she assumed, was in the second of the two bedrooms attached to the living area. He and Bass Groove had each had a bed in there.

Wing smacked her dry lips and stumbled past the two closed doors toward the bathroom. A few mouthfuls of water from the sink relieved her burning thirst and woke her up somewhat. She did not feel any other ill effects from last night's drinking, for which she was grateful. As she was not feeling up to going anywhere just yet, Wing called down to the front desk to order room service. She was waiting for her breakfast to arrive when Power Chord emerged from his room.

Power Chord looked terrible. He'd been prone to panic attacks ever since being freed from Cacophony, and Bass nearly dying had triggered a terrible episode. Wing had been up late into the night with Power, trying to soothe him enough to get some sleep. The frantic unicorn had eventually drifted off, but clearly his sleep had been anything but restful.

"Morning. How are you?" Wing asked, though the answer was plain to see.

"Been better," Power answered. "Thanks for looking after me last night." He sounded rather embarassed.

"No problem. You want breakfast? I just ordered some."

Power shook his head. "Not really hungry, but thanks. I'm gonna go visit Bass."

"Let's wait until Thunder wakes up. He'd be pissed if we went without him."

Power shuffled his hooves. "I'd rather go now. You guys can catch up later, alright?"

Wing took a couple of steps toward him. "I know you're worried, but I really think we should all go together," she said. "What if something happened to you, too?"

Power exhaled and his ears drooped. "What if I tried to do something to myself, you mean."

"Power—"

"No, you're right. With... well, everything that's going on, it's probably better that we stick together."

Wing Beat draped a wing protectively over the unicorn. "It'll be alright. They had it under control. I'm sure Bass is fine."

"Yeah." Power nuzzled her briefly. "I'm sure you're right."

Wing Beat's food arrived about ten minutes later: oatmeal and a vegetable platter. She and Power shared the food while they waited for their last bandmate to finally wake up.

Bass Groove's foreleg hurt, a bone-deep ache that he could not relieve no matter how he positioned or massaged it. A combination of magical and mundane treatments had closed the wound he'd inflicted on himself, but the doctors had told him that there was internal damage to the nerves and muscles that may never fully heal. There was a pale white scar running up from his ankle, and he would bear that for the rest of his life.

With a sigh, Bass gave up on getting any more sleep. The sun streaming in through the window of his small hospital room and his own discomfort would not allow it. Instead, Bass cautiously slid to the edge of the bed and lowered his legs to the ground. He stood on three legs for a moment, keeping his injured foreleg off the ground. Then, slowly, he lowered his fourth hoof to the floor.

Bass immediately gasped as a sharp pain lanced through his leg. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to apply more weight to the injured limb. The nurse had told him that it would be important for him to excercise the leg and try to restore its strength, though she had warned that he might never fully regain the use of it. Indeed, he found himself walking with a pronounced limp, as though one of his legs were asleep. He felt a pang as he realized that, were it not for the luck of him having been born a unicorn, his musical career would be over; there was no way he would ever play an instrument with that leg. His throat tightened up with fear and shame.

Some time later a nurse entered his room with food and a small paper cup of pills.

"How are we feeling this morning?" she asked, her voice much too chipper.

Bass winced. The nurse was projecting the false positivity that one used to speak with children and crazy ponies. He buried his head deeper into the pillow, hoping that she would think he was still asleep. He wasn't up to facing anypony just then, not with a scar on his leg and fresh tear tracks on his cheeks.

"I know you're awake, I heard you walking around in here," the nurse chided him.

So much for that.

"Up and at 'em, Bass!" she chirped. "We need to get you fed, you've got some visitors waiting to see you."

That finally caught Bass's attention. He lifted his head out of the pillow. "Visitors?" he croaked, his voice raspy and nasal with crying.

"Oh dear," the nurse tsked as she saw the state he was in. She pulled a few tissues from the box on his bedside table and gently hoofed them over to him. "Get yourself cleaned up. Come on now, you can't see your parents like that."

"My parents?" A bolt of panic shot through his stomach and he shook his head. His parents were absolutely the last ponies he wanted to see right now. How would he ever explain this to them?

The nurse frowned disapprovingly. "Is anything wrong?"

Was anything not wrong? "I don't want to see them right now," Bass mumbled. "Not like this."

"They're very worried about you, you know," she answered. "At times like this it's important to be around ponies who love you. I really recommend that you at least let them see you, for your own sake if not for theirs."

Bass looked away from her to stare at the floor.

The nurse sighed. "I'll tell you what: eat your breakfast and take your medicine, and just think about it, okay? I'll be back in a few minutes to check on you, you can tell me then if you want to see them or not."

Bass nodded. "Alright. Thanks."

The nurse left the tray of food and medicine and let herself out, leaving Bass alone with his shame.

Power Chord practically galloped into the Manehattan hospital, followed closely by Thunder and Wing. He approached the receptionist and asked for Bass's room.

"Bass Groove?" The receptionist checked her list. "Third floor, trauma ward, but he's got visitors right now. I'll have to ask you to wait until they leave."

"Visitors? Is it our parents?" Power asked. At her confused look, he explained, "I'm Bass's brother, Power Chord."

"I see. And these other two?"

"Friends," Thunder answered.

"I understand. I can allow you to see him, Mr. Chord, but I'm afraid that you two will have to wait. We don't want to overwhelm him."

"Hey—"

"Of course." Wing Beat held out a hoof to forestall Thunder's angry outburst.

Power Chord turned to look uncertainly at the two of them.

"It's alright," Wing reassured him. "Go see your brother."

Power nodded gratefully and left for Bass's room. It took only a few minutes before he arrived at the door the receptionist had indicated. He hesitated, then uncertainly lifted a hoof and knocked.

The faint chatter that had been coming from inside cut off abruptly. A moment passed and then the door opened slightly, a dark brown unicorn stallion peering through the opening. When he caught sight of Power Chord, the unicorn's eyes widened and he threw the door open.

"Power!" The stallion stepped forward and caught him up in a rough hug.

"Oof. Hi, Dad." Power freed himself from the crushing embrace and stepped into the room. His gaze was immediately drawn toward the room's single bed, where their mother was tearfully hugging Bass. "How is he?" Power asked quietly.

His father, Treble, sighed heavily. "See for yourself."

Power uncertainly approached the bed. "Bass?"

Bass gasped and pulled himself out of their mother's forelegs. He looked up, and Power saw that their mother wasn't the only one crying.

"Power? I," he hiccuped, "I didn't hear you come in."

"Sorry." Power sat on the edge of the bed. "How're you holding up, little bro?"

Bass shrugged. "They fixed my leg," he answered, avoiding the real question. "They just want to check me over once more and then I'll be good to leave."

Cinnamon Rondo, their mother, gently stroked Bass's mane. "He said he might never fully regain the use of that leg." Her voice cracked and she put a hoof over her mouth, trying to fight back more tears.

"Mom," Bass protested, "it'll be alright. Besides, I can still play without it."

Power's ears lowered in nervousness. "Look, Bass," he said hesitantly, "I was talking to that nurse back at the concert. She thinks, well—"

"No."

"Huh?"

"I know what you're going to say, and no, I don't need a shrink. I just... I just freaked out a bit. I was drunk, and tired, and not feeling well, and I just lost it for a second. I'm fine."

"You know there's nothing to be ashamed of," their mother answered him. "It's no different from seeing a doctor when you're sick. You need to take care of yourself."

Bass shook his head. "I told you, I'm fine. It won't happen again."

"Bass," Treble said sternly, "your brother is right. You have to get the help you need."

"I don't need any help!" Bass shouted back. "I'm not bucking crazy, and I don't need a damned therapist!"

"Bass Groove, you do not talk to me like that." Treble shoved a hoof into Bass's face. In the face of his son's burning glare, he sighed heavily and relented. "Just promise me you'll think about it, alright?"

Bass gritted his teeth and looked away, his face flushed with anger and embarassment. "Sure," he mumbled.

"What was that? I couldn't hear you."

"Yeah, Dad, I'll think about it."

Cinnamon smiled. "Thank you." She hugged him tightly. "You know we love you. We just want you to be alright."

"Yeah," Bass sniffed, "I know. Oh!" he pulled himself away from Cinnamon. "Power, there was something I wanted to talk to you about."

"What's up?"

"We've been invited to play in the Equestrian Battle of the Bands, you probably heard already."

Power froze. "Yeah," he said carefully, "I heard. How did you hear about it?"

"It was on the radio," Bass answered. "They were advertising that we were invited, but not confirmed. We're doing it, right?"

Power looked down at his little brother. "Are you sure you're up for it?" he asked seriously. "The first round is only a week away."

Bass paused, then blinked once as the pieces came together in his head. "You weren't going to tell me, were you? You didn't think I could handle it."

"We weren't sure you'd be ready, after... after last night."

"Alicorns dammit, Power, I'm fine!" Bass burst out. "I'm sure as Tartarus not going to be the reason why My Metal Pony backs out of the Battle. I'll be out of the hospital in a few hours and we can get practicing."

"You sure?" Power asked again.

"Yes, dammit, I'm bucking sure!" Bass shouted.

"Bass Groove, you watch your mouth!"

Bass subsided. "Sorry, Mom," he mumbled.

"I think it's about time we left," Treble said. "Bass needs to rest, and then it sounds like you all have some practicing to do."

"Right." Cinnamon hugged Bass once more and then reluctantly left his bedside. "Power, are you coming?"

Power took a hesitant step away from his brother. He didn't feel right leaving now, when there was so much uncertainty and anger between them, but maybe that was exactly why he should. "See ya, Bass."

"Bye."