The Ward

Chapter I

Everything ached. Muscles, sinew, joints, head, eyes and the odd feeling of even the bones calling out in distress. Everything burned as if the previous day he worked past his physical limit for hours on end. Inside his skull, every heart beat was a jackhammer, throbbing with pressure that felt best relieved by boring a hole into his head the size of a hoof to let the pain out. Every breath it self was pained drawing pins and needles as if a corset lined with broken glass had been laced tighter than intended causing each inhale and exhale to become short and shallow as to not cause greater pain. Everything felt as if he had swam in razorblades and then was crushed with tons of iron.

The entire harrowing fire of pain radiated from his entire body, he opened his eyes and it was quickly doubled as the harsh rays of the sun pierced like it had been focused by passing through a Fresnel lens pointed in the center of his brain. The world around him was unfocused, shapes and blurs of a room filtered though and his brain tried it's best to decode what the objects were. Most of the room was cast in shadow still, but for the most part was completely empty apart from the door where the offensive sun beat down on him.

Nothing made sense, there was only the pain. He bobbed his head from the floor with the intention to move it from the sunbeam to fall back into a painful sleep. Perhaps blackout was a better description, as when he moved his hooves to push up off the floor a lightning bolt of pain shot down his spine causing the stallion cry out in pain and cease any movement. For a few brief moments his vision collapsed into a tunnel of black, leaving only a tiny pinprick of light. Questions swirled around in his head, but the main one was that to answer why he felt like a train had run him over.

One good thing about the pain was that it attracted somepony else to his presence. Muffled voices and foggy hoof clops from outside the door wafted their way inside. There was no way to make out what they said, but the fact that the sounds were coming towards him was a comfort. A heavy steel door devoid of any lubrication screeched open and the sun intensified for only a second before it was obstructed by two other ponies who looked down upon him before stepping hoof inside. There were several moments of silence before the blurry figures even spoke.

"Oh my Celestia-" a female voice squeaked briefly before breaking into a silence. The figure then sank down on her haunches and cradled his head in her hooves. "Those... monsters!" The stallion on the floor could feel a sense of compassion in her voice, though he didn't know her.

"How bad is-" the other shadow asked while moving out of the sun's beam. The stallion moved aside and was able to see the extent of what happened. The stallion on the floor winched as the light his his eyes again and moved his head as far as it would allow to block the light without causing even more pain. "I have warned those... ruffians countless times that such violence should not be necessary. Such things are completely uncalled for in any manor."

The shadowy stallion's forehead became awash in a light and then the light encompassed the injured pony on the floor. Suddenly the occupant of the room breathed a sigh of relief as he floated in the weightless levitation of the unicorn, glad to have his body off the floor where gravity was digging in on his side. However the point of being rotated in the air to pass through the door caused a warm trickle to flow down the side of his head, making his stomach heave in sickness.

"Find out what ponies were on guard duty last night and discharge them immediately." the unicorn said to the mare in an authoritative tone.

"Right away." was the response followed by a flurry of hasty hooves down the hard floored hallway.

The world was still a mess beyond his eyes, making out only that he was being carried down a hallway. As he focused the walls and ceiling flexed in, causing his head to spin and bile to rise in the back of his throat. Several times during the trip the world went black, but he soon was back awake enough to see that he was still being carried.

The pony soon awoke again to the voice of the male stallion from his room, or at least the room he was in.

"Can you hear me?" he asked.

"Ye- yes." he answered amidst a painful breath of air as the stabbing pain caused him to stutter.

"You are in a medical bed now, safe. Do you understand?"

"Yes." another half squelched reply during a breath out.

"I'm going to lift you from the bed and perform a physical, do you know what that means?" before a reply could come, the unicorn cut him out. "It means that I am going to use my magic to inspect your body, feel you all over."

"It hurts all- all over."

"Please remain calm, this will take a few minutes." said the stallion.

The injured pony was lifted from the bed and the doctor slowly began to feel from hoof to the mane. As he focused on his chest and gently moved the ribs a small fraction of an inch, the patient moaned out in pain. Quickly he found that they were fractured on one side and one was broken outright, all located on the upper right quadrant of the torso. He mentally made a note and moved upwards. A strained muscle in his fore-hoof was found but nothing else until he reached the area around his head. It was obvious to the observer that there were several hoof shaped lacerations near the maxilla, frontal orbital bone and zygomatic arch. Luckily there were no fractures, just deep lacerations.

The doctor removed the jacket from the stallion and tossed it aside, to get a closer inspection of the dermis over the ribs. As the fur was carefully moved aside, bruising could be seen, hoof prints as well. Whatever happened last night, the stallion had been brutally stomped and kicked.

"What's your name? I haven't seen you in the infirmary yet."

"It's-" he paused. It was the first time he had to recall a memory, and there was no reason he couldn't remember, but everything was blank. Not just a name, but where he was, who he was and most importantly of all, how he got injured to this extent.

"I... can't remember. My name, or a-anything." he stuttered.

"You may have a concussion, but for the time being I need to apply some sutures to your head wounds and bind your chest. On a scale of one to ten, ten being unable to move from the pain, how much are you in?" the doctor began using a small flashlight and shone the light into each of the stallions eyes watching for a reaction, all while using his horn to summon up supplies from nearby drawers.

"Eight. E-every time I breathe in my chest feels like... it's being c-crushed. My head feels like it's going to tear itself ap-part." he stuttered every time the shallow breathes were needed to complete the sentences.

The doctor didn't reply, just simply nod and bring over more supplies from the cabinets.

"And I can't see... too well."

Another nod.

"I'm going to inject some morphine for the pain and give you a few pills as well that will dull the pain after the shot wears off. it's going to make you feel good, but please don't move."

The stallion felt the warm haze of magic on his throat, not a harsh squeeze but one that was searching gently. Once the artery was located he felt a slight pinch as the needle passed though his skin, the morphine was main-lined into his system and immediately there was no pain. He closed his eyes in a sigh of relief and took a deep breath, now free of the razor blade embedded corset.

"Thank you, much better."

"And two of these." the doctor floated a set of pills to the stallions lips. They immediately parted and he dropped them inside, and drew a glass of water to wash them down with. "Now open." he mocked the action he wanted by opening his own muzzle and it was mimicked. He peered inside and was satisfied that the pony had swallowed them.

The rest of the medical aid was applied with haste, but not without skill. It would seem that the doctor had treated injuries like this quite a lot.  Once the job was done he went over to a filing cabinet and began to slowly hoof through the folders, prying each one open and taking momentary glances up at the stallion resting peacefully in the bed across the open bay.

Once the proper file was located he hefted the thick folder from the drawer and placed it on the desk. He never opened it, rather pulled a piece of paper from another drawer and began to fill a report out. Only once the report was finished did he open the thick folder and paused at the first page. Scanning the first few lines he stopped and an uneasy look passed over his face.

Slowly he sat back and with trembling hoof, closed the medical file. his professional demeanor faded as he gathered the folder into his hoof and slowly clopped over to the bedside.

"I- I have some matters to attend to... I will be back shortly." he blurted out. With that he bolted from the room.

This left the stallion alone to his thoughts, though they were cloudy in the haze of the opioid. Frantically he began to search his mind for answers to who he was. The deeper he delved the more the white fuzz pushed against him, keeping him out. The longer his thoughts dwelled on his life, his head pounded harder and harder forcing him to take deep breathes. But the harder he pushed into the haze, the more it struggled to keep him out.

Instead of bringing around more pain, he stopped and laid back down on the soft bed and let everything go. He was alive and that was the first step to getting answers.

Half an hour ticked away before the doctor returned, the nurse on his tail with two stocky ponies on either side of them dressed in white.

"I'm afraid I have to take you to see Dr. Fetlock right away."

"All-right." the stallion in the bed replied and slowly began to slide off the side of the bed. "Why hasn't my vision returned? Everything is still blurry." he asked, waving a hoof in front of his face as to make an example of his meaning.

"Nurse Lillian, the wheel chair please." the shape waved. The injured stallion noticed that the doctor was purposefully keeping his distance from the him.

The mare wheeled the chair over and helped the stallion sit comfortably in it. Only when he was seated did she walk around to his front and reach into her lab coat.

"I have your glasses, but you can't have them yet. Dr. Fetlock will have to give his OK first." Lillian said, looking directly at the seated stallion.

"I have glasses... right..." he chuckled lightly and let a large grin cross his muzzle. "What is wrong with the doctor, he seems to be staying away from me. As if he was afraid. Are you afraid?"

Nurse Lillian smiled, "I am not afraid of any pony." she answered. While the doctor maintained his distance, Lillian was more than comfortable getting close to any perceived danger. "I have seen a lot throughout my days here in the hospital and nothing can make me shake in my horse shoes."

The stallion grinned again. "Then let's go to Dr. Fet-hoof then."

"Let's go! Doctor, would you join us?" Lillian retreated to the rear of the wheel chair and started to push him towards the door.

The journey took the stallion passed many blurry shapes, more ponies. In the halls, open areas and what seemed like all over a building that spanned the entire length of Equestria. It was a lively hospital to say the least, wide tall windows that let in the entirety of the sun's glory. Though without his glasses, it was all fuzzy, leaving everything still somewhat of a mystery.

Time dragged on and the shapes lost their luster, as well as the morphine wearing thin, but the pills were enough to stave off the daggers of pain he felt earlier, though they were not as potent as the morphine, leaving a head throb pounding away and creating unease in his chest when he was breathing. This also returned him to a state of mind he was more in control of. Questions began to mix in his fuzzy mind.

They took a lift to bring the crew to the top floor of the hospital. From the exit it was just a short wheel to a black wood double door graced with bronze handles. On the other side there was a massive office with a single pain of glass overlooking what appeared to be buildings that made up the hospital. The same wood that made the doors was also a desk sitting a few strides from the window, with a massive towering high backed chair facing the window, the occupant unseen by those who had just entered.

A silent hoof waved from behind the chair and all but the stallion and Nurse Lillian left. She approached the desk and set the glasses down on them only then did she leave.

The room was silent for a few minutes, the stallion had no reason to speak up despite the few questions he had. The longer he stayed silent, the more it began to bother him. Thinking that it was a test he instead remained silent.

"Tell me-" the pony in the high-backed chair said, slowly turning around to face the other stallion in the room. "What is your name?"

The Doctor in the chair remained a blurry object, and the stallion strained to focus and make out distinguishing features, though this only served to increase the pain in his head vying to figure out what exactly the sapphire red pony looked like.

"I can't remember. I don't really remember anything. Could-" he paused a second. "Could I have my glasses, please?"

"Please?" the doctor snickered. "I did not think that you knew what that word meant." The tone of the room was quickly becoming tense, making the other occupant uneasy. "What happened last night? I can see by your face that you got your flank kicked, not surprising."

"Doctor, I said I don't remember. I just woke up and everything hurt. I'm sorry, I-I don't remember." he apologized, slinking back in the wheel chair as much as he could before his withdrawing knees started to press against his chest causing the cracked ribs to shoot more pain into his spine. The pain was only masking the dread he felt creeping in. Clearly he was a part of something that had been lost last night, and the belittling demeanor on which Dr. Fetlock was speaking to him sent a thought that he was involved, or perhaps to blame for the events. But it would seem that the doctor was holding back.

"Corona Plume! You do NOT expect me to believe anything of which you have just said. Anypony of your stature here should know full well that I am not one to be trifled with." Dr. Fetlock slammed a hoof on the desk several times during the anger infused tirade.

The fact that a doctor was yelling at him was enough to make anypony cringe, but with no prior knowledge of events that transpired was sending the stallion into a panic. He began to shake in the chair and a tear rolled down his cheek.

"Is t-that my name? Corona Plume?" he sniffled. This was just a moment in time he reminded himself, and soon after he was looked over, he would be discharged from the hospital. Soon he would be on his way home, after contacting somepony that knew where he lived. Now he had a name to work with.

Dr. Fetlock was more than agitated, seething anger was beginning to boil over. He moved from the chair to a position where he could whisper into the stallion's ear.

"If you are in any way playing your mind games with me..." he slowly whispered into his ear, as a mare would to her foal to prevent them from acting out in public, the low tone that implicated there would be trouble once they got back home. "Then I will bury you in the deepest darkest hole we have here. You will never again see the light of day. Do you understand, Corona Plume?"

"Y-yes, please..." the stallion was shaking, scared down to the deepest part of him. For a few minutes he was no longer feeling his ribs and head, but the venomous voice of the doctor. "What ever I did, I'm sorry. I don't know what it is, but I'm sorry! Please don't get rid of me! I heard the other Doctor say he was going to fire the other guards here. I'm sure by the start of my shift tonight, I'll have remembered everything. Please..." Tears began to stream down his cheeks and he sniffled. There wasn't much he knew, but if anything working at the hospital was something he didn't want to lose.

Doctor Fetlock changed his tone completely. He pulled back from the sobbing stallion and walked back to the chair behind his desk and opened the folder the other doctor had put there. A glow came from his forehead and began to write on a piece of paper near the back of the massive stack.

"You can have your glasses back." he said, without looking up from the paper he was absorbed in. "They are on the corner of my desk." he waved a hoof.

Corona collected himself, wiping the tears away and felt confidence returning that the issue from last night was resolved.  Slowly he placed his hooves on the ground, testing their strength before putting his full weight on them. The ribs stung as he let gravity take hold and pull his midsection to the floor. He felt uneasy, but managed to slowly move to the corner where his glasses were.

It felt weird slipping them on, as if it were the first time he had done so. But they were his. As the lenses were seated the world became crystal clear, and the enormity of the room was revealed.

From wall to wall the space was filled with book shelves all packed to the point of overflowing with books. All medical books, as well as several bound volumes of magazine publications, spilling from their pages were white pieces of parchment that did not belong as part of the normal pages, notes of some kind.

As he passed over the rows of books, glancing at the titles he moved over to the window to have a look out. From the high vantage point he was able to see two buildings branching out in a ninety degree V-like fashion from the central tower. Each wing was made of a white stone that seemed to leap upward four stories and was sheltered from the storms by a grey colored roof of slate.  Between the two buildings was a well kept lawn with stone paths from doorway to doorway and to a central veranda made of a pale wood. Ponies of all types were amongst the lawn, some in wheel chairs, some on their own and some being escorted by the white uniformed ponies that took him up here.  Everything looked amazing.

"What are you doing?" Dr. Fetlock asked turning around to watch the stallion. "It's a long way to the ground from here." he said.

"Oh yes, I know." Corona responded, his eyes locked on the sprawling grounds below. As far as the eye could see there was well groomed lawns, patches of flowers and shade from trees should one decide to take a break from the sun.

"I don't think you are in any condition to fly." remarked the doctor.

"That would be wonderful if I could. It's such a nice day outside." Corona remarked.

"Maybe someday that can happen." the doctor said, leaving a trail of hope in his voice but with a tone of skepticism underlying it.

"I don't think that is possible."

"Oh, why not? Your wings were not injured last night. It's completely possible." the doctor voiced, waving a hoof at the spread appendages.

"I... wait, what?" immediately he turned his head, and a warm smile spread across his muzzle. It was like Hearth's Warming eve, and he found that he had the biggest present under the tree. His brilliant sunburst colored coat continued on into the same colored wings, but tipped with a vibrant orange wash. He began to flap his wings joyously in the air and regretted it. The muscles that controlled them pulled on his ribs and it sent the low hover he had achieved crashing to the ground.  He curled up on the floor and began to breathe in gasps.

"Nurse Lillian..." Dr. Fetlock pressed a button on the intercom built into his desk. "Please bring up some more painkillers for Corona, along with the regulars."

Wincing in pain, the stallion stood up and slowly trotted back to the wheel chair and took a seat.

"How long before I am healed up enough to fly again?" the question was a mix of eager and pain.

"At least a few weeks, enough for your cracked ribs heal." he answered, and continued to write in the folder, infact he had never stopped writing from the first time he picked up the pen.

"Would I still be able to do my job, without being able to fly?"

The pen scratching on the parchment stopped, and the red pony looked up from the desk and strait at him.

"I don't see why not."

With that said he returned to writing again in the folder.

Nurse Lillian entered the room, levitating a tray in front of her. There was a single white paper cup and a glass of water on it.

"Here is what you asked for." she laid the tray down on the desk. She picked up the small paper cup and the glass and turned to Corona.

"You got your glasses back!" she chirped.

"Yes I did, and everything is so much better. And I am a pegasus!" he grinned, slowly flaring his wings out to their full extent. There was something about the unicorn that caused his heart to lift, as if she were a familiar face that bore a friendship the two shared. Perhaps it was just the the fact that she was the first pony that wasn't treating him like a piece of merchandise.

"Yes, I can see that." She returned his friendly smile with one of her own. "But I brought some pills for your pain."

"Thanks." Corona reached out for the cup and tossed the pills into his mouth. It was alot more than the two from before, as he felt at least five resting on his tongue. He then washed them down with the water and returned the cup to Lillian.

"Open up." she asked. Without a second thought he did, and she peered inside his muzzle, then lightly patted his nose. "Ok, back to work." The white mare with a short two tone mane and tail of a cream color tipped with a dark brown pocketed the glass and levitated the tray to her side and left the room.

With the doctor still writing, Corona turned to face him.

"So when do you think that I will be able to return to my regular work?" he asked innocently.

"Mr. Plume." Dr. Fetlock put the pen down from the cloud of magic linked to his horn. "This is going to be hard for you to understand, but please listen. You have made a breakthrough today, whether on your own volition or through the injuries you received, you have had a dramatic change. It is one that I believe to be genuine."

Corona paused, his mind working as to what this was building up to be. Deep down inside there was a lingering bit of fear, that he was going to be fired from the hospital and have to pick up his life, if he could remember any bits and pieces of it.

"Do you know where you are?"  The inquisitive line had no malice as those of before, but rather it was sedate.

"A hospital of sorts. I figured that out." he shrugged, as if the answer was obvious.

Dr. Fetlock sighed, realizing now the extent of retrograde memory loss.

"This is Briar Hoof Psychiatric Hospital. And you are not a guard."

Not anymore, this was it. Whatever happened last night, whatever he did, he was getting fired. Butterflies flew around in his stomach causing his heart rate to ascend, the pounding in his head increasing. Now he was going to get kicked out of his house. He'd have to live on the streets and beg for bits just to buy the day's food.

"No, please don't fire me! I'll be a janitor, clean out the toilets, anything!" he begged.

"Please stop and listen to me." the doctor moved his hoof forward in a gesture one would use to break bad news. "This is going to be hard to hear, and will be very confusing, especially in your current state."

Corona's breathing picked up, despite the stabbing pain in his chest. The news that he was not wanting to hear was coming. The butterflied turned into a marching army, and he began to unwillingly shake.

"You were admitted here several days ago. Do you understand?"

The way Dr. Fetlock was talking in a slow manner made Corona's adrenaline pound. He heard the words that were spoken, but they didn't make sense. This confusion was compounded by his memory loss, everything was making less sense.

"You are not a guard. You do not work for the hospital. You are a patient here."

"That's not right. I can't be..."

His mind stopped working correctly and shut out what he was being told. It was not true, how could he be any danger to anypony? It was all lies, all made up. Terror gripped his chest, and squeezed in like a vice. Cold shot down his spine and outward into his body, hooves and muzzle began to feel numb as if hit with a billion frozen pins. He just kept blinking, hoping that a small piece of memory would return to help him combat this confusing mess.

"What... No! It's not..."

"Mr. Plume, please don't try to think about any of this right now. I would really hate if you regressed back."

"Issen... I'ven. Eigh?" he burbled out. He wasn't sure about what he meant to say, it got lost in the black grip of fear wrought upon him. His heart was beating out of his chest, and forcing him to drawn in extremely fast gasps of breath. His hooves felt like they were no longer attached to his body, as if they had floated up out of the room. In the back of his skull he heard a train speeding towards him, a hurricane that got louder.

He stared at Dr. Fetlock, and though his lips were moving, he didn't hear anything, just the rush of wind. Corona felt displaced, his body had already stopped responding, and slowly his eyesight was beginning to blur white around the peripherals of his vision.

The hurricane in his ears kept whipping at his mind. Somewhere in the confusion he started saying a word over and over again.

"No... no... no... no"

He never remembered starting to form the word, it just spilled out over and over again. The white had nearly engulfed his entire vision, the hurricane in his ears was whirring in a deafening haze.

"No... no... no..." he continued.

No cohesive thoughts formed, no part of his body responded. Everything became a blur of white with a wind storm whipping in his ears. Then it stopped. Suddenly he felt withdrawn, as if watching his body from a place high in the office. He was shaking and sputtering what should have been words, but only were received as broken half syllables. In the abstract vision he was experiencing he noticed that his body was a mess. The sunburst fur swept manically in all directions, his golden orange mane that was usually swept back into the wind was stained a rust red from blood and matted against the side of his head desperately crying out for a wash and a comb.  If there was anything to be admitted, he did look the part of a patient.

The torrential gust that seemed to be blowing in his ears stopped and turned into a low buzzing tone. Vision had turned all white and he lurched forward from the chair to the floor.