Rainbow Pie

BEEP...BEEP...BEEP

The incessant rhythm of the monitor kept a sort of melancholy time in the room. It had been six weeks now since the accident. The magical coma had allowed Dash's recovery to proceed faster and the rods had been removed from her wings two weeks ago. They would still need a hard cast for a while - about four more weeks. Unfortunately, tests showed that, while the severed nerve endings were growing back together, they were still having trouble carrying signals. Still, the doctors reminded everypony that it was still early in the recovery process.

Pinkie's snoring provided a contrast to the monitor's rhythm. She hadn't left since the accident, and while she had improved a good bit, she was still in a somewhat fragile state of mind and her friends always tried to make sure at least one of them was with her.

Applejack sighed. Dash was scheduled to be brought out of the coma tomorrow. In fact, the doctors had already started gradually weakening the magic field that was keeping her under. While they all were eager to be able to talk to their friend again, nopony was looking forward to having to tell her about her wings.

She turned towards Fluttershy, who had just arrived an hour ago to stay the night. Applejack was glad for her company. The timid yellow pegasus pony always seemed to have a calming effect on her.

"Is... is something wrong?" Fluttershy asked.

Applejack blinked, her cheeks reddening slightly, as she realized that she had been staring absently at her friend for a good couple minutes. "Well," she finally managed, "ahm jus' a little worried 'bout t'morrow, is all."

"Oh? You don't think anything will go wrong, do you?"

"With Dash wakin' up? Naw. Doc says she's fine and ah believe 'im. Naw, ahm jus worried 'bout how she's gonna take tha news about, well, y'know..."

"Oh. About... about her wings, you mean."

"Yea. Whadda you think? Ah mean, you've know her a lot longer'n ah have."

"I... I don't know. We don't really know how things will go yet, of course, but it's probably going to be hard on her. Flying is what she lives for. Its been her whole life. But she'll have us." Fluttershy smiled. "Ever since I've known her she's always tried to protect me, whenever I got picked on for being shy or being a bad flyer. Now I guess it's my turn to be there for her."

"Y'all sound real close. If'n ya don't mind mah askin', were you jealous any when, y'know, her an Pinkie...?"

"Hmmm? Oh, you mean..." Fluttershy blushed.

"Nevermind, ah shouldn'tve asked somethin' like that."

"Oh, no. Its okay. No I wasn't jealous or anything. Actually I was really happy for them both. Really, I never thought of Dash, um, like that. She's always been more like a big sister to me. Which is strange, considering I'm actually older than her."

"But ah thought y'all went ta school together?"

"Well, yes, but I was held back because of my poor flying, so..."

They continued talking for a while until eventually Applejack found herself dozing off. At length, she got up and stretched. "Well, ah reckon ahm gonna go hit the hay. You gonna be alright here by yourself, sugarcube?"

"Oh. Yes, I'll be fine. I've got some new veterinary journals that just came in the mail the other day. You go and get some rest and I'll see you tomorrow.

The next day they were all there as the magic field finally wore off.

Dash groaned as she came to her senses. She opened her eyes - and quickly shut them again, struggling to adjust to the sudden light. She tried to remember where she was. The last thing she could remember was the ground approaching at incredible speed. Then pain. Blinding, agonizing pain.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a high-pitched voice. "Dashie! You're awake!"

"Mmmph... Wah? Pinks? Where am I?"

"In the hospital, silly. Duh." Pinkie blurted. Then, more seriously, "Oh, Dashie, I was so worried."

"The hospital? How... how long?"

"It's been two months now, sugarcube." Applejack piped up.

"Two months?" Dash asked, incredulous. "Geez, I knew it was bad, but not that bad." She looked at herself, as well as she could, being in a near full body cast. "Well, how long until I get these mummy wrappings off and get back to flying?"

Everypony glanced nervously at each other. "Um, Dashie..." Pinkie started.

"About that..." broke in Applejack.

"Your wings, um..." Twilight tried to continue with the unpleasant news.

"What about my wings?" Dash said, a deadly serious edge to her voice. Silence. "I SAID, what about my wings?" she asked again, more forcefully.

As they told her the news, Rainbow Dash felt a tangle of emotions waring inside her. Shock. Disbelief. Grief. Anger. Then she latched onto one. One that had gotten her through tough times before. Proud determination. She was Rainbow Dash. She was the greatest flyer in Equestria. She would show these pesky damaged nerves who was boss. Having determined this, she said as much.

"Of course you will, Dashie! I just know you'll be all better in no time." Pinkie bubbled.

The others exchanged looks. They weren't so sure, but they would be there all the same.

As it turned out, the remaining month until the cast came off provided more opportunity for healing. By the time she came out of the cast, Dash's nerve conduction tests had vastly improved. After a week of stretching and muscle exercises, everypony was hopeful as Dash prepared to take to the air for the first time since that fateful day, now three months distant.

When they got to the field, Dash was mildly annoyed at the height chosen for the flight. "Oh, c'mon! I was flying higher than this as a foal."

"It's always better to start small, so you don't overtax yourself." the rehab nurses insisted.

Miffed, Dash spread her wings, jumped off the training ledge... and froze. She plummeted like a stone, being caught at the last second by a magic field.

As her friends rushed over to check on her, she tried to figure out what went wrong. Her heart was pounding so hard she thought it would come right out of her chest, she had broken out in a cold sweat, and she was shaking like a leaf. This was ridiculous. She was Rainbow Dash, damnit. How could she be afraid to fly? She flapped her wings experimentally. They certainly seemed to work right. Anger flared up, mixing with her pride. She stormed back up to the top of the ledge. She took a running leap this time and... she was airborne. She flapped her wings, soaring higher and picking up speed as she circled the training room. "Ha!" she shouted. "Told you I'd be back in top form in no time."

Her friends watched, aghast, as she hovered around the training field at a snails pace, barely three feet above her starting height. "Um... Twi," Applejack whispered nervously. "How fast is she goin'?"

Twilight's horn glowed briefly as she cast a speed detection spell. She shook her head and announced, sadly: "26 miles an hour."

Applejack took in the news, then hung her head. "That's it then. It's over, isn't it?"

Pinkie's face fell. "Oh, Dashie..." she said forlornly.

"...so, as you can see, Miss Dash," the doctor waved a hoof at the x-rays and tests, "there's nothing wrong with your wings."

"Then what's wrong with me? Why can't I fly?"

"After a complete analysis, my conclusion is that you are suffering from severe post-traumatic stress disorder. Basically the accident has caused such severe mental stress that attempting to fly is either resulting in panic attacks or cognative perceptive disassociation."

"Are you trying to tell me I'm afraid to fly? Bullshit."

The doctor, unfazed by the profanity, attempted to clarify. "Not consciously afraid, per se. It's like this," he explained, drawing a diagram, "Say that this," he pointed to a stick-figure pony, "is your conscious mind. You want to fly. So your mind sends a signal to your wings." He drew a dotted line to a crudely drawn pair of wings. "Now, normally your wings respond, and you fly. But now," He drew another line parallel to the first, this one blocked by a stop sign. "your subconscious mind, imprinted by the accident, intercepts the signal. It then either completely blocks the signal or else overrides it, allowing very low speed flight, while feeding your senses the false impression of speed and/or height."

"Umm. Ok. I think I understand all that. So how do we fix it?"

"Unfortunately, Miss Dash, there is no medical remedy for this. Sometimes the problem lessens or disappears with time. Some ponies find counseling or psychiatric therapy helpful. And, frankly, sometimes the PTSD never goes away. In any case, I'm afraid there's really nothing more we can do for you here, so I'm going to recommend that you be discharged home."