Far too soon and yet, in a way, not quite soon enough, it was time for Wild to go through the health checkup. It was taking place in the hospital wing, unsurprisingly, and he had to steel himself as he made his way there. He had never been too nervous around doctors, but there was still something about it that made the thoughts in his head quieten and his senses to sharpen, and something in his mind was nearly as tight as a wound spring. He didn't know where this sensation came from exactly, but he had some suspicion. To be evaluated was not something he really wished to experience even if no one was going to assign him any actual value, monetary or not, and yet he couldn't shake the unwelcome comparison between it and how he was once evaluated by people who used him. The similarities were certainly a reach, Wild knew, but he was also perfectly aware that his mind wasn't exactly well and he couldn't help feeling the way he felt. Of course, he also didn't exactly wish to know what was might or might not be wrong in his body. He had long since figured out why some people thought that ignorance meant bliss. He felt fine, and to find out that he was not fine... he didn't know what he would do with it.

Wild reminded himself that an annual health checkup was important, that he had missed too many as it was. If he were to retain his physical abilities and improve them further, if he were to keep himself healthy, he needed to get through the check up, he needed to hear what the doctors had to say. He knew precisely nothing when it came to medicine or healthcare aside from how to apply bandages, where to apply force to hurt, and what things were deadly. However, knowing how to hurt or how to be hurt did not help him achieve any decent knowledge of how to fix any of it. And, in truth, he had to admit that this checkup was necessary - for a long time, his long-term issues in his human body went unaddressed.

He breathed in, held it for a moment, then breathed out. He was going to be fine. His body was, for all intents and purposes, relatively new - even he couldn’t have messed it up all that badly in the time since he got it, considering that he was getting regular meals, regular exercise, and regular sleep, even if more often than it was good for him his sleep was not as restful as he would wish.

There were the two events in his knew life that might have done something, however. The Changeling Invasion, thankfully, did not result in any serious bodily harm, certainly in nothing that would result in long-term issues with his health... or so he hoped. Surely he would have been told about it if he suffered anything physically while he was recuperating in the hospital wing? He had to assume that nothing was wrong beyond what he was told.

The Nightmare... it was all about his spirit, not his body. All the little cuts and bruises that his body had suffered on that day had already healed, gone as if they had never been there. He had a sneaking suspicion, one that he didn't think was founded on anything but a feeling, that they healed too well and too quickly. However, his human body didn’t really heal all that well, in his experience, and even a small, surface-level cut could remain visible for at least as long as a month, and he always assumed it was because of everything that had happened to him at the end of his life.

Wild also reminded himself that the checkup was also for him to find out how to get rid of his scars. That thought, by itself, was enough for him to finally open the doors to the hospital wing and force his legs to move, bringing him past the entrance. Anxiety remained simmering somewhere in his mind, but he had made his choice.

Now that he was in the hospital wing proper, he was hit by an unexpected sense of... normality, perhaps. He blinked in confusion, not sensing the common atmosphere of awkward stillness or low-hanging nervousness he was so used to seeing in clinics. His memory of the latest checkup was fuzzy at best, considering how long ago it was, but he remembered kids sitting on benches along relatively narrow hallways, all relatively quietly waiting for their turn with this or that doctor. What he saw now was... different. For once, the hallway was noticeably wider - when he was there last, he hadn’t really noticed it. This, by itself, reduced the feeling of oppressive sterility and lifelessness. Most importantly, however, was that most of the foals weren’t actually waiting in the hallway itself but in a rather large room before it - the reception room, which had undergone a change since he was there last. Tables, seating, and simple play mats were scattered around in a semi-chaotic ways, and the foals were... enjoying themselves. They weren’t quietly murmuring between each other, no, and neither was there any sort of anxiety lingering in the air. A tabletop game was going on, involving a small group of foals. Younger ones were on one of the play mats, building something out of wooden pieces. A couple of ponies were play-fighting or something of that sort, giggling as they wrestled.

And so Wild just stood there, gazing at his surroundings with clear bafflement. That was not... that wasn’t how it all was supposed to be... was it? There was too much... fun.

“Good day, Wild,” he was greeted, and the gears in his head started turning again. He turned to the speaker, and they were nurse Fairheart, “Let me go over with you in regards to what you should expect in this, alright?”

Wild simply nodded. That, he could do. He had heard of it before, told by Luna, but he could hear it all again. And so he listened as nurse Fairheart told him about what doctors were there, in what order he would visit them, and when exactly it would be his turn. He didn’t have to remember his place in the queue or anything of that sort, which made a certain part of him sigh in relief. Instead, he would simply be called when it was time.

“Are there any accommodations you need?” the nurse asked, then gave him a list, “This is what is offered. We were told there is a requirement you have, but I’d like you to mark it and anything else you might have an issue with.”

The list was longer than he expected, listing a bunch of things like phobias and what could be done to accommodate for them. Nothing in particular really applied to him, so the only thing he marked was that he preferred to avoid touch. He sighed a long sigh, doing his best not to let out a shaky one. Why did he have to be this way, why did he have to be so broken? He let this thought linger for a moment, then banished it to the back of his mind. He would address it... someday.

There was another thing. The issue of... sex-related questions. He lingered there for a moment, but decided not to mark it. It was enough that Luna knew about it, he didn’t want anyone else to know. A part of him knew no one would give him grief over it - or so he hoped, at least - but... he simply didn’t want this sort of thing to spread. He would not have anyone look at him either in disgust or in pity. This, he would simply carry to his grave. He needed to carry it to his grave. Even if, as history had shown so far, he apparently couldn’t die.

Another thing attracted his attention, and it was a... fidget toy for nervousness. He hesitated there as well, but decided to mark it anyway. He had noticed one foal sitting there talking with their friend while squeezing something between their hooves. No one looked twice at them because of it, so Wild could afford to get it as well. As long as it didn’t squeak or anything like that, he would be fine.

And lastly... there was a thing related to panic attacks. He left it unmarked - he was reasonably sure he wouldn’t panic, that he would be stronger than that. There was no need to embarrass himself any further. Finally, he handed the list back.

“What kind of fidget toy would you like?” the nurse asked him as she laid out a few. There were spinners, twisters, poppers, squeezers, a whole bunch of things that Wild didn’t expect to see, “You may take one or multiple.”

After some deliberation, he picked a transparent ball made of something like silicone, inside which were a bunch of colored blobs. When he squeezed, those blobs expanded accordingly. It was, perhaps, childish, but he could work with that. He picked a second one - a spinner. He remembered they were quite popular once in the human world, and he always wanted one for himself even when he was a part of the crowd that hated them for, now that he recognized, no good reason.

“There is drinking water over near the window, the bathroom is over there,” nurse Fairheart gestured helpfully, “Do you need anything else?” he shook his head, “Alright, you’ll be called when the doctors are ready to see you.”

Wild, almost mechanically, made his way over to one of the seats away from others and sat down heavily. He squeezed the ball using his magic, and that was... surprisingly soothing. He could do that. He then used another magical hand to hold the spinner and spin it. Looking at how it went, smoothly and silently, it was also... nice.

He could get through it. It would be embarrassing if he didn’t, especially now that he had some distractions. He could do it. He had to do it. Now he wished he had also brought a book, but he wasn’t sure he would’ve been able to focus on it.

He was fine. He had to be. He just needed to wait a bit, then go through with it all, and he would be out.

***

The very first thing Wild had to do was something quite minor - providing a urine sample. Thankfully, there was nothing oddly different about it - he simply had to go to the toilet room, get an empty clean glass jar, urinate in it, then label it with his own name as well as his primary colors. Wild learned that ponies didn’t rely on names alone when it came to signing things or providing any sort of identification - in addition to the name, the colors of fur and mane were used. There was a bunch of markers of all sorts of colors, and Wild visually compared his colors to them until he found good-enough matches and drew a few stripes on the label corresponding to the required colors.

The next part was something he didn’t particularly like - giving blood for blood analysis. He was never exactly afraid of blood or needles, but there was just something unpleasant about it all.

“Good day, Wild,” a nurse told him, “Please take a seat. Before we begin, I’m going to ask you a couple of questions.”

Wild nodded.

“Alright, have you ever fainted for no apparent reason?” they asked, and he shook his head, “Have you ever had unexplained dizziness?” another shake of his head, “Are you afraid of blood?” he shook his head again, “The blood sample is usually taken from the jugular vein - it is a vein on your neck. Are you opposed to that?”

Wild swallowed - that was not something he expected. He expected the blood to be drawn from his leg or whatever a pony had for a tip of the finger, but not from the neck.

“There is a different option - drawing blood from near the hoof,” the nurse supplied, and Wild didn’t hesitate to sign that he would very much prefer that, “Very well. Please take a seat over there,” they gestured at what looked like an armchair.

Wild sat down, and it was surprisingly comfortable. Even then, there was tension in his body, one he couldn’t get rid of.

“Place whichever hoof you prefer for blood to be drawn from on a leg rest.”

It wasn’t long before the skin just above his hoof was prickled and blood welled up, which was immediately gathered by the nurse. It wasn’t particularly painful - hardly more so than a mosquito bite. A drop of some sort of solution was applied to it, and there was a bit of a numbing, cooling sensation.

“Alright, we’re done here,” the nurse told him, and he felt immediate relief. That was not as bad as he feared, and it was certainly faster than he thought it would be, “Feel free to take a snack on your way out.”

Wild ended up grabbing some sort of vanilla-ice-cream-flavored nutrient bar. It tasted quite good, and some more of the tension in his body disappeared. He reminded himself that a health checkup was important, that it was good for him.

For the next long while, he went through doctor after doctor. With every visit, his anxiety decreased - he was treated well, and everything was going far more smoothly than he expected.

“Your eyes are in excellent condition, and the scan didn’t highlight any markers that they would degrade with regular use” the eye doctor - ophthalmologist - told him, “You can certainly look forward to a long life without ever needing glasses or any kind of corrective action.”

Wild was glad about that, though he had never even thought about it - no one in his family ever wore glasses, to his knowledge. He had never had trouble with reading small text either close in front of him like in a book or far from him like on a street sign. Glasses, he knew, were a weakness - some people couldn’t see much more aside from blurry shapes without them, and he was glad he didn't have to wear them.

The visit to the otorhinolaryngologist - the one who checked ear, nose, and throat - turned out to be almost a disaster.

“Open your mouth, please.”

I said, open your fucking mouth!

Wild had to pause just for a single long moment to remind himself that he was not there anymore, that he was free, that he had killed the one who had once given him that order. He could not have survived - Wild had ensured that. He needed to let go of this, to forget this, to move past this... as impossible as the task seemed.

Wild didn’t know whether he showed any visible reaction to this request. He could only hope that there was nothing that put his discomfort and the single moment of a memory on display. He breathed in, breathed out, and then opened his mouth, all the while telling himself that everything was fine, that the doctor would not hurt him, that there was nothing to fear there. The doctors had to have gone through a vetting process before getting this sort of access to children, after all. He told himself that he almost panicked because of nothing, because of his brain just deciding to bring up something out of absolutely nowhere.

Sometimes, he hated his mind, hated how it could jump from one thing to the other, hated how it seemed to hurt him more than help him. He breathed in, breathed out, and felt his racing heart slow down. He had to go through this all, and the faster he did it, the better it would be. And for that to happen, he needed to be calm.

Thankfully, the doctor didn’t insert any of those metal flat spoons for holding the tongue down, merely asking for Wild to use his mouth to breathe. That was easy enough to do, and soon enough Wild was proclaimed perfectly healthy, and he was out of that room as well. He had to pause in the corridor for a bit, simply breathing through his nose. He was fine, he would get through it. That was all that was required of him.

He wished he had someone to watch his back while he went through it all, but there was no one close enough he would trust with this, no one close enough that would understand his anxiety. When he was a kid, his parents were never far, and now, he had no one. He wished Luna was there, but then she was a princess, and he was an adult. It would simply be weird for him to need her or anyone. He was an adult, he could get through it on his own.

At least he had the fidget toys. Feeling the squeeze of the ball and seeing the spin of the spinner provided enough of a distraction for him to carry on. It wouldn't be too long, he reminded himself. It was just one day out of an entire year, he told himself. If he could weather harsh survival out on the streets, he could weather one day of checking his health in comfort.

Thankfully, the next visit was uneventful - talking to an allergist did not result in anything unwelcome happening in his mind, and soon enough Wild was out - he didn’t have any allergies, at least not any that a medical scan was able to detect. If he did have an allergy, it was to something rare, and he could live with that. This visit marked a pause in his anxiety, and he was glad for it.

A visit to an oncologist turned out to be just as uneventful, fortunately. Wild had only ever heard of tumors and cancer from outside his immediate circle of the people he knew, and he was glad that he wouldn’t be one of the young people who would suffer through any of this.

The visit to a dermatovenerologist - the doctor specializing in skin and also sexually transmitted diseases - was another visit filled with discomfort.

“Have you ever had sex?” was one of the questions. Wild shook his head at that, pushing away the unwelcome memories. He now had a different body, he told himself, so whatever happened to the old one didn’t - shouldn’t - count. Thankfully, the doctor didn’t display any skepticism about the answer, so if they had any suspicions that Wild lied, they kept them to themselves.

Then Wild was visually inspected, which was also mildly uncomfortable, but he did his best not to allow a single twitch. He could do it. He would do it. He would be strong. It was just a visual examination performed by a doctor, all for his own good, and Wild needed to accept it. He barely restrained himself from showing any outward sign of stress when the doctor asked him to spread his legs a bit so they could look where Wild didn’t really want anyone to look. Wild told himself it was necessary, although doubt started creeping in. He knew he could just leave. He could simply walk out of the room and refuse anything else. Luna told him that, nurse Fairheart told him that. He was free to choose not to undergo any of this.

However, he made himself go through with it anyway. He had displayed enough weakness in front of others already, he couldn’t allow himself to add anything more to that. Thankfully, the visual examination was over, and a medical scan was performed using magic afterwards, which didn’t take long at all.

“It appears you are as healthy as one can be,” the doctor told him, “However, I would recommend applying a moisturizer once winter comes.”

Wild noted that somewhere in his mind and finally exited the room. He breathed in deeply, his anxiety slowly fading away, replaced with relief that he was out of that room, out from under the eyes of the doctor. What he had just experienced wasn’t... ideal. He could still make do with it, definitely, but now he wanted the checkup to be done with.

He suddenly remembered - he wanted his scars removed. That was all about the skin, wasn’t it? He needed to go back, and yet... he didn’t want to. He had just escaped. Besides, it would be simply awkward to come back in. However, he couldn’t just walk away - he needed to get rid of his scars. Steeling himself, he walked back in, thankful that there was a pause between each foal that went to a doctor. Before Wild could convince himself to turn around, he got the doctor’s attention and signed his question about the scars.

“Your scar tissue is surface-level, so it should be easy to treat,” the doctor told him, and Wild was glad the doctor didn’t even look funny at him for barging back in, “You will need a descarring ointment.”

A short while passed as the doctor wrote some words down on a piece of paper.

“A descarring ointment, yes, twice a day, morning and evening, for as long as it takes for the scars to disappear,” the doctor said, “It would be ideal if you shaved the fur surrounding them for easier access, should shorten the time before effects are visible as well as lessen the amount of ointment needed. Has the allergist found any issues?” they asked, and Wild shook his head in response, signing that he had no allergies, “Very good. Some ponies get terrible rashes because of the ointment. I would still recommend you apply a tiny amount first, wait twenty-four hours, and then check if there is any redness, itchiness, or pain. If there is none, you may use it.”

Wild nodded in understanding.

“Bring this to nurse Fairheart, she’ll have the ointment,” the doctor gave him the piece of paper, which had a string through one of its corners so that Wild could wear it on his neck. Perhaps he would get something with pockets in the future, although he didn’t really have anything to carry on him. Perhaps it would change once he was out of the Orphanage and living on his own.

After taking the piece of paper, he left the room for the final time this day, breathing a sigh of relief. That was done with, and he didn’t think the rest of the checkup would be anywhere near as stressful as this.

He could do it. If he told himself that often enough, he would maybe come to genuinely believe it.

***

After what seemed like countless consultations and visual examinations, it was all finally over. He was, as far as everyone was able to ascertain, perfectly healthy. Mental health, however, was evaluated separately from the physical health, and Wild was apparently signed up with Luna, and there was a meeting scheduled in a few days. Partially, he resented having the need, even the desire to be treated mentally. He held himself together just fine for a long time, didn’t he? However, if he were actually honest with himself, it was an undeniable fact that he was not alright. Admitting that to himself remained difficult but, thankfully, not impossible. He knew he needed help, and it was good that he actually sought it out instead of bottling everything up. Besides, he believed Luna was trustworthy, and she now knew enough about him that there was little he could do to hide anything more from her. At the very least it was his choice - as much as it could be his choice - to be treated by her and her alone.

Wild got back to his dorm room and simply lay down to rest, mentally if not physically. He was even allowed to take the fidget toys, and he was even given a bag so that he could easily carry them around with him if needed. He hated ever asking for this, but now that he could continue squeezing the stress ball and spin the spinner, there was something like a deep sense of contentment settling within him. He squeezed and he spun, and there was just something unexplainably good about that. However, he resolved not to use them much where people might see them. It wouldn’t do to broadcast his weaknesses and deficiencies to everyone who had functioning eyes.

A sense of melancholy drifted over him like a rain cloud. Not as violent as a storm, no, but like a cold drizzle. Now that he had gone through the health checkup... what would he do next? There was this appointment with Luna - and many more to come, he knew - and... then what?

Wild still had no idea what his future would be. He had tried to think of it multiple times, yet nothing truly came to mind. He could do little about the ever-present anxiety over his own future, stuck as he was where he was. Too broken to lead a normal life, not broken enough to allow others to take care of him. He was resolved to keep himself strong, and yet what did this strength matter when he needed to think?

Wild had survived through sheer force of will before, but now there was not an end goal in sight. His quest for revenge was over and done with, and everything that he had once been remained in a world no longer his. In this new world, he had no one and nothing, his memories his only true companion.

Wild realized that his thoughts were going in circles, and he groaned in irritation. Why couldn’t he just figure things out? He had time for it, at the very least. He didn’t have to think about where to sleep, what to eat, where...

And that was when it hit him - he didn’t have to think about survival. On some level, since coming to the Royal Orphanage he knew that, but to acknowledge it...

With his survival needs more or less fulfilled, what else was he to do? Where else was he to look? Did he need to prepare for what he considered an inevitability - another attack on him? There were the changelings, then the Nightmare - and he still didn’t quite know how to truly process that his soul was free - so there must be something else coming for him. Maybe not even him specifically, but he would be simply swept in the wave of events as collateral.

Wild wished he could talk about that with someone... but whom?

Author's Note

For the record, accepting accommodations for whatever it is that you may have is not a sign of weakness. Different people have different needs, and it's honestly not very difficult to accommodate for those needs if you know how to and have empathy.

Wild, unfortunately, still holds plenty of toxic, useless, and generally bad ideas as truth. He has much yet to learn. He may call himself an adult, but that doesn't mean he needs no help - everyone, at any age, can ask for help.

Also, fidget spinners are neat. I never actually bought one, but just mindlessly spinning one does make me a bit calmer. Maybe I should get some sort of fidget thing for myself, honestly speaking.

I like including tiny little details of how ponies manage to do stuff without wearing clothes or carrying any bags. In canon MLP it never really mattered, but I like to imagine that some ponies have pouches that they carry around their neck with money, keys to their houses or apartments, etc. I like to imagine that in plenty of more rural, close-knit communities the doors aren't locked, so ponies don't even carry keys on their person.

Also, I thought of writing of more doctors that Wild visited, but it would be a bit tedious, especially since he's essentially perfectly healthy, meaning I would write "Looks good, continue that way" for every doctor.