Feed A Cold, Starve The Reaper
Pinkie Pie was sick.
Her nose was running, her eyes were hurting from the boogers stuffed behind them, and she just wanted to sleep.
The Cakes had gotten so used to her as a foalsitter that they had to scramble to find a replacement. Then they quarantined her upstairs, Mrs. Cake putting a hot carafe (Pinkie thought that was the right word, but with her head aching so, she just couldn't be sure) of herbal tea outside her door every two hours.
This cold wasn't going away, though. Her joints had started to ache and her Pinkie Sense was on the fritz. It was like something was coming at her, but she couldn't tell what.
When a flying rainbow moose started pounding on the pegasus door and calling her name in alarm, she was glad she'd picked the bed to watch the show above her. After all, it's not every day you see a flying moose breaking into your bedroom as the stage lights went down.
The first sense to return was smell. Pinkie Pie wrinkled her nose and tried to itch her snout with a hind hoof, but she missed. That's okay, she thought, at least touch had returned. That's two for five.
"She's coming out of it," said a professional voice. "Her friends will want to see her."
Three! Shall we try for four?
She licked her nose. It was dry and salty. She couldn't remember if that was a good or a bad sign.
Aaaaaaand she blinked her eyes open. It was the opposite of Sugarcube Corner: no snacks in sight, an overly clean smell without a whiff of bread, and a bedroom that looked out on Canterlot Mountain. Plus, Sugarcube Corner never had that beepy thing. Yep, there was no doubt about it. She was in the offices of the head of Warmblood Studios, trying out for the part of Theremin Teslhoof, master of magnetism.
"How are you feeling?" asked Nurse Redheart.
Or Canterlot General Hospital. That was her second guess.
She tried to answer, "Fine-a-dippy-doo, Nursey," but only a croak came out. She licked her lips again. "Water?" she whispered.
She had just finished the glass of water (which had so thoughtfully been supplied with a curly straw) when her princess entered the room, her court in tow. The entourage was wet around the eyes, like somebody had died or something. They surrounded her, looking down at the bed as if afraid to come closer.
"Group hug!" said Pinkie, and tried to rise from the bed. They looked at each other, and Fluttershy began to cry again. Pinkie frowned. "I SAID GROUP HUG!" she shouted playfully.
As one, they surrounded her and tried awkwardly to hug her with their forehooves. Pinkie filed it for future reference that a hospital bed was logistically the worst place for a group hug, especially if one is missing one's hindhooves and front legs.
Wait, what?
Rainbow was, surprisingly, the last one to leave the hug. "You scared me, Pinkie Pie," she whispered in the prone pink pony's ear.
"Sometimes I scare me," agreed Pinkie. "Hey, look at me, I'm a gingerbread pony!" It sounded like a joke, but it didn't feel like a joke, because nobody laughed, not even her. In fact, she was quite sure she only breathed this hard after her morning workout, or the delivery of a bunch of invitations all over town. The beepy thing was annoying-fast and she wanted it to stop. Well, stopping would be bad. Maybe it should just slow down a little.
Doctor Stable came to the side of her bed. "Pinkamena..."
"Pinkie," corrected Pinkie.
"Pinkie. You have survived sepsis. That's when the body becomes systemically infected and starts to shut down."
"My hoovsies are still shut down." But the beeping hadn't slowed down.
He cleared his throat. "Um, yes. We couldn't, ah, start them up again. They would have killed you if we'd left them attached, so they had to go."
The doctor's words blurred together after that. Only when he left did Rarity come back to the side of the bed.
"Pinkie, I know it's a bit soon to be discussing this, but I associate with a great number of designers and engineers. We shall build for you new legs, legs in which you will stand tall and proudly, saying, 'I am Pinkie Pie, I stand tall and proudly.'" A tear dripped down Rarity's cheek, and Pinkie reached up to wipe it away.
What remained of her right foreleg came clearly into view. Her coat had been shaved up to her shoulder. There were gauze bandages wrapping it from the upper-upper-arm all the way down to her lower-upper-arm.
Rarity graciously leaned forward, and the tear was absorbed into the thick gauze padding. Of course, it wasn't the only tear in the room.
As the days of her recovery wore on, she had ample time to take stock. (Her first job at Sugarcube Corner was inventory, after all.)
Her left foreleg had fared a little better, amputated at the elbow in what the doctor called a "disarticulation." She replied it sounded like when Diamond Tiara got kicked off the staff of the Foal Free Press.
That seemed like a lifetime ago now.
Her hind hooves had had better circulation, so they were cut off in the middle of the fibula and tibia. She explained it to Spike, when he finally came by, that for him it would be halfway between the ankle and knee. They chose to remove that much for symmetry and eventual structural stability on prosthetic limbs, though they could have kept the metatarsals, between the ankle and toes, of one hind hoof.
All these long words were swimming through Pinkie's mind when her friends weren't there. It was like listening to Maud's descriptions of Metamoronic and Ingenious Rocks. But instead of describing rocks, they were describing her.
Pinkie Pie giggled. "It tickles! And it's cold!" She wiggled her right back leg.
Rarity, her left cheek now smeared with plaster, said, "Stop squirming, Pinkie. My friend in Hoofington has requested exact plaster casts. These are not socks we're designing for. We need the measurements precisely."
Pinkie settled down, but kept grinning. The swelling had gone away, and she was back at Sugarcube Corner. Gummy was no longer a risk of infection (apparently he might be covered with Sammanalla, which is why the Cakes always made her wash her hooves after playing with him - well, problem solved), so he was happily chittering as he walked around the two ponies on the bed.
Pinkie lay on her belly on the bed, kicking her hind legs into the air behind her. She was watching Rarity use the papier-mâché kit that made forever-balloons for foals. Now it was making molds for her new hoovsies. She would have clopped her hooves with excitement, if...
Well.
"...And I've had him incorporate slots along each segment, so that I can create fashionable fairings to fit and face your new legs," said Rarity as she worked. "I've already got a couple of more utilitarian designs that will be perfect for use in the bakery."
"I'll have changeling legs!" Pinkie cried out, smiling. "oooOOOooo, look out, Rarity, the nasty changeling is coming to get you!"
"Darling, with the sketches he provided, I've designed your next twelve Nightmare Night costumes already!"
Pinkie was chasing the mini-Cakes around the bakery. Propped up on a dessert cart was her front half, taking the weight off her rear stumps. It was then that the doorbell rang. "Mailmare!" shouted Pinkie, despite the fact that both Cakes were in the very same room.
Mr. Cake went to the door and opened it. "Hello Derpy," he said, "You can come in during business hours and give us the mail directly."
The grey mare nodded once, saluted, and flew off. On the porch was a crate postmarked Hoofington and addressed to Pinkie Pie. On top of it was the rest of the Corner's mail. He shook his head and pushed the delivery inside.
Pinkie gasped. "It's my new hoovsies!" she crowed, and ran the cart at the crate.
Envelopes flew everywhere.
Rarity tsk'd. "Stump socks first, darling," she told Pinkie, and held one up with her magic.
Pinkie glanced at how her coat had grown in. Her stumps were bald on the scars themselves, skin-pink lines of uniform thickness that snaked across her stumps, but it was full everywhere else. She submitted to the floating socks, which forced their way onto her stumps.
She couldn't stop saying that word in her mind. Stump. Stump. Stumpetty-stumpy-stump-stump. She would wake up in the middle of the night and swear her hooves were still on her, but a bustle and a joggle of the bedsheets proved her wrong every time.
Finally, she was ready. Two months, and four skeletal limbs attached to molded cups.
Despite wanting to try them on at Sugarcube Corner (she wanted to run up and down the stairs), cooler heads prevailed. Pinkie Pie was back on a hospital bed, and her six bestest friends in all the world were there.
Her physical therapist, Broken Branch, was there too, and she didn't look pleased. "I said one at a time. Do you want to break your neck?"
Pinkie did not.
Branch lifted the left foreleg with her magic. She slipped it onto Pinkie's left fore stump. At first, Pinkie grinned. Then she stopped smiling. "Hey. I'm wiggling it but nothing's happening!"
"They require your weight to be resting on them, darling," said Rarity, "I explained this before."
"I don't want to cast the Phantom Limb spell until we're sure these will work," added Princess Twilight. "So, how's the fit?"
"Galoshes," said Pinkie, moving the new limb side to side.
After a brief bit of confusion -- she'd meant they felt like galoshes, but fit snugly and without wiggle room -- she was also fitted with the right foreleg.
Pinkie scootched over to the edge of the bed and rolled onto her belly. Her new hooves hit the hospital floor with a solid click-clack. She kneel-walked to the edge of the bed, and Branch was visibly pale. However, Pinkie managed to balance her back half on the bed and her front half on the new legs.
There was a moment of silence, and then five sets of hooves started clopping on the floor. One set of hands was also clapping; and she gave Spike a great big Pinkie Pie smile.
There was hugging. There was crying. There was cake.
"We are gathered here," said the old grey pony with the collar around his neck, "to honor the remains of Pinkamena Diane Pie. Truly, she had pink hooves."
Fluttershy's wailing voice whimpered. In contrast, Rainbow Dash tapped a hoof impatiently and looked at the distant clock tower.
Pinkie Pie, dressed in black, was bawling already. Tears poured from her eyes in a manner that might lead one to wonder how one body could hold so much fluid... if the pony whose eyes were waterfalls hadn't been Pinkie Pie. She put her new front legs over Applejack's back and continued wailing, leaning on her friend for support. Applejack rolled her eyes.
Rarity watched the matte black fairings subtly reflect the sunlight. She was pleased with the effect.
At the end of the short service Princess Twilight lowered the small coffin into the grave, and magicked a pink rose and a small amount of dirt into the hole.
Spike and each of the Elements, the Pies, and the Cakes tossed their roses in turn and each scooped a bit of dirt.
As soon as the last attendee dumped dirt in the grave, Pinkie tapped her right forehoof in a pattern Rarity had taught her. The fairings were magically replaced with festive and fetching fairings that matched her Rainbow Powered form's original hoof markings. She waved a prosthetic hoof in the direction of Sugarcube Corner. The Phantom Limb spell had given her a full range of motion and even some sensation.
"Okay, ponies, are you ready for the wildest wake you've ever attended?"
