Discolored

Rarity woke.

Beside her was a glass of water that was filled at half-staff. It reminded her of her own glass of water, which was kept on her own bedside table at the Boutique when she needed a drink to soothe her aching heart. Her heart had ached for some reason--she didn't know why--but the aching was still there nonetheless, so she needed to do something to fix her old aching heart. Water seemed to be the rightful fix she needed.

Speaking of which, she needed that fix now. Her bones felt weak, her heart was only beating at such a slow pace--it barely felt like it was there, beating--her legs were hard to lift; she felt lost. Something was wrong and she didn't know what.

Maybe it's her horn, she thought, sending her gaze up to her hor--she gasped rather loudly at the sight--the horn was not free like before. Instead, it was covered in gauze again, and wrapped in those dreaded bandages she wished she could rip right off. She needed an explanation for this heinous crime; no pony would just wrap this infernal cloth around her three-fourths horn! Unless...

"Did something happen?" Rarity said, her mind not realizing she said that out loud. She needed answers. She needed them now.

Rarity remembered the button in its shiny red glory, which was happily sitting beside her, begging to be pushed. She smiled, and with the effort of twenty roaring tigers, she smashed the button to oblivion. The alert was sent a-packin', traveling over the entire clinic without a hitch. The deviant noise was one that Rarity loved, but she had bet that the nursing staff dreaded the day when they heard it. The signal meant an extreme emergency to them, Rarity thought, and if she had pressed it that much, it may sound like she was dying.

Rarity sighed. They wouldn't be annoyed with her if she wasn't dying, right?

After a few more seconds of Rarity contemplating over the grim reality of life and clinics, the door to Rarity's room suddenly swung open, echoing its rather horrifying crack in Rarity's ears. She whimpered, hoping that she would never hear that noise again, but the doctor soon proved that to be false as the echo reverberated off the walls; the door had been slammed shut.

In front of Rarity was Nurse Redheart: her eyes were wide, while her mouth moved at the speed of light, at least Rarity thought so, her mind unable to decode what Nurse Redheart was saying without adding words like "blood" and "creativity" in without mercy. Beside her was Doctor Stable, which made her a little unsettled due to his blank facial expression. He was hard to pinpoint, since he was usually cheery and poetic, but now that gaze turned to something different, something dark; she had expected a back light to add ambiance to his appearance, but sadly none was there. It did make it more horrifying, but, as Rarity saw it, the world she lived in now was getting worse and worse by day. All she wanted was to leave, not see these two every day.

"Rarity, did you hear what I was saying?"

The demand brought Rarity back to the present. "I--Uh... no?"

Nurse Redheart groaned. "Ugh, can you hear me?"

Rarity nodded. "Of course."

"Then why didn't you answer before?" Nurse Redheart asked with her eyebrow raised slightly.

Rarity sighed. "I'm just worried about why my horn is wrapped in a prison again."

"A prison?" Doctor Stable said, interrupting what Nurse Redheart was about to say--her mouth was wide as can be, taking in a deep breath to say a monologue of some sort (Rarity assumed). "Miss Rarity, those bandages are necessary for your full recovery! I hope you understand that the choice was--"

"Doctor, she means why they're on her horn again," Nurse Redheart butted in, shattering Doctors Stable's wise poem.

Rarity saw him sigh, before returning to her with a slight smile. He said, "Thank you, Red, you saved me once again from the terrible monster of misinterpretation! Why, I would've been stuck in a portal filled with twenty of you and only one of her if I stuck on that path! I--"

"Shut up and get to the point, Doctor," Nurse Redheart said, punctuating her final word with a growl.

He quivered, or so Rarity thought, the movement was just subtle enough for her to see, yet evident enough to even call it a quiver, but that wasn't as important as his whole body sudden turn to her view, and his blank expression becoming visible again. She was the one who became the target, a sight for a sniper like him to shoot her down with the magic from his horn, which was a grim reality for anypony. Yet, that blank expression soon turned to that slight smile again. He has never smiled fully...

"Well, Rarity, we have met at an impasse. You were asleep last night, sleeping happily and softly, your snores not waking a soul--"

"Wait, I snore!?"

The stallion took a step back for the safety of his entire life story. "I-I didn't mean to offend!" He waved his hooves rapidly in front of him. "Look, you were asleep and Nurse Redheart saw your horn. It... reverted back to its original state. All that drilling, carving, and basic touch ups were gone, erased in a snap. We--Rarity are you okay?"

Rarity heard the words he said, of course. Her mind just couldn't believe them. Reverted back to its original state? It was jagged, horrible, cursed, a representation of everything she feared; and here, a Doctor like him, had sat here to do surgery on little old her throughout the night without waking her up? It was nice... but she was still lost, drowning more or less in the sea of confusion. It didn't make any sense.

"I'm fine, just confused..." she muttered.

"What are you confused about?" Nurse Redheart asked. "I--" She received a slight jab from her superior. "We can help explain anything you might have."

Then, it dawned her: she had never actually seen her horn. What if... "May I... see it?"

The color had drained from both of their faces. They were discolored, broken, like a muse shot being down from the sky; there was nothing there but cold distance. Rarity shivered. She didn't like to see those faces. They scared her, slightly, her body shifting under the covers. Those rails again stood out, staring at her again. They didn't laugh, no, they stared just the same: blankly, without remorse. She wished they, including Nurse Redheart and Doctor Stable, would stop staring at her. She just wanted to be normal, not a mounted piece in a museum. She did adore the attention, but not for this...

As she was about to curl up in a ball and hide away the shame, Nurse Redheart said those three magical words...

"Yes, you can."

Her heart swelled at the opportunity of seeing her horn. Maybe it was fine. Maybe they fixed it. Maybe they did what they were supposed to do.  Was it jagged? Did they do surgery? Was this whole fiasco a lie or was it an attempt to be on stage? Did they...

...cut it more?

She stopped her questioning. The thought of her horn being torn asunder and made to their liking made it harder for her to swallow than anything. She was herself: an upstanding individual with the generosity that rivaled any Canterlot noble that ever stood in her presence. Yet, here, generosity wasn't applicable. It was a necessity, a trial of survival. Nothing was bleeding creativity anymore. It was all necessity.

Necessity: something Rarity needed.

Above her towered Nurse Redheart. She began to unravel the strands of cloth with a smile that told stories. Several, of which, Rarity wished she would never hear. They were probably about that necessity of blood, how it dripped and dripped on the ground, lost forever. She had to sew up the wound before it was lost too, but Rarity didn't bleed that way. She bled creativity and she did not stop until her mind was at rest.

As another bandage fell from her head, Rarity thought of its appearance. It must be done bleeding. Necessity must have clogged up her wound. Yet, her horn, an extension of herself, now was about to be unleashed to herself. There was no better feeling than that: seeing yourself anew for a second time. Maybe it was beautiful, like her. It wasn't cursed--no, it was never cursed. She smiled and waited for Nurse Redheart to finish the deed.

A small bandage falls. No blood yet.

Another bandage falls. This one is larger, but not a single stain of blood.

A gauze begins its descent. Still. No. Blood.

She gasped as Nurse Redheart, a smile now plastered on her face, pulled away and dusted her hooves. "Done," she uttered. "May I grab a mirror?"

With fright inside her, Rarity slowly nodded. There was no blood. Last time, blood was aplenty. Now...

She watched as Nurse Redheart go, walking out the door. She didn't let the door smack the wall nor the frame. Instead, it stayed open while the Doctor Stable took his cue and sat beside her.

"It'll be all right, Rarity. Your horn is great."

She doubted his comment. All stallions did this: comforting and loving to distract their love or friend from thinking ahead or stressing without much information. Yet, she had enough information and here he was still comforting her. Blasted ruffian, wooing her to this state.

If Nurse Redheart does not return with the mirror, Rarity will slap him as compensation.

Running down the hall was tiring for Nurse Redheart.

All because of this failed surgery, there was not a single bit of blood. Instead, as her mind prepared a response to Rarity's sudden cries of anguish, the horn itself was still the same. The Doctor just wanted to make her feel better. He's such a kind, caring stallion, but such a klutz and a hopeless bard in a medical professional's uniform. She sighed. He's perfect.

She, on the other hoof, was not perfect. She was about to make her patient cry. Her job was to make her patients feel better and healthy, not to make them upset and loathing. There was nothing worse than to tell a patient that we could not fix it again. The magic within the horn was too strong, and the drill they used had snapped in two...

...just like Rarity's horn. Snapped in two.

Redheart turned the corner and into the supply room. Maybe she'll forgive her. Maybe she and Rarity would become great friends. They could gossip about the stallions: how dense and loving they are, how poorly kept and mindlessly in love they are, and how, even in the worst circumstances, they stand up for the mare and do anything for her. Maybe...

...Rarity will find him too.

She smiled as she grabbed the mirror. Her reflection, though marked with the blood of others (like usual), still looked beautiful. She was still in uniform, her bun was still in its orderly fashion, and her hat was pristine, but something was amiss. A stray tear ogling her cheek? No, she did not feel sad. Upset? Even less likely than sadness. So why did she cry?

Another tear left her. Of course, the horn. It was all the horn. Rarity's horn. Cursed. Her fault. She can't fix it. Neither can Doctor Stable. They have no idea how to fix it. She's going to cry, cry a lot. There's no blood, Nurse Redheart thought, and that's why Rarity's eyes looked at her like that. They saw the bandages; there was blood last time on them. Now, there's none.

Nurse Redheart sniffled and wiped the tears from her face. No matter what happens today, she will be with Rarity. Even if she said no, she will be adamant and help her. Why?, she thought, why was she going to be this way?

Simply put: it was all her fault.

And she wanted to make things right.