Harmony University: Riding the Storm

Once the visit with her dad, mom and girlfriend had come to an end, nurse True Heart came bustling into Cyclone’s room with her dinner on a tray. Much to the huge woman’s amusement, the jet black teenager wolfed it down like she hadn’t eaten in days. “Oh my,” she grinned sarcastically, “It seems you must be liking the dinner the hospital staff made for you.”

“Oh yes,” Cyclone granted the nurse a roll of her eyes as she moved the tray table out of the way, “I love it, nurse. I just wish there was more of it.”

“You know the drill,” True Heart said with an enthusiastic glint in her yellow eyes, “It’s time to work those calories off!”

Cyclone decided she didn’t much like the glint in the nurse’s eyes. Coach Iron Will had the same look about him when it had snowed and he was about to make the gym team do a cross county run in knee deep snow. “I swear you love this way too much…”

“I did specialize in sports medicine,” then, before Cyclone could protest, True Heart deftly removed the bedsheets covering the teenager's legs so she could start exercising them for the thirty minute period.

As she watched the nurse expertly pump her legs back and forth like she was riding a bike, Cyclone asked, “Seriously what is the point of this, nurse? I'm not gonna use them again, am I?”

A nurse of ten years, both in Griffonstone and now in Equestria, True Heart had heard all that before, many times over, from countless patients. “Well,” she said as she cycled Cyclone’s legs, “We could always cut them off if you’d prefer.”

Cyclone snorted, “I thought you were saving that for the next time you knock me out.”

“We have to wait until there is a market for them,” True Heart replied, in a mixture of dry sarcasm and dead pan sincerity that she knew would keep the teenager guessing. A little time later, when the exercise was complete, in walked Bone Graft. “Right on time, doctor.”

“Visiting hours plus thirty five,” the elderly doctor prided himself on his punctuality and granted his patient a small smile, “How are you this evening, Cyclone?”

“Alive and kicking,” snarked Cyclone on her back, her legs pointedly immobile. “Well, at least I am when the nurse helps.”

Bone Graft shared a nod of understanding with the nurse. “Time to roll over to your stomach. Just relax,” he then supported Cyclone’s upper body at her shoulders and just under her breasts while True Heart moved her legs. Between them, they had the girl over on her front.

“Well, that was fun,” deadpanned Cyclone when they left her alone when they were satisfied she was on her belly, which was how she would spend the night, “What's on the exciting list for tomorrow, roll me back over?”

“For your breakfast, I’ll roll you back over,” intoned True Heart in her usual no nonsense style.

Now he had unfettered access to Cyclone’s back, Bone Graft carefully examined the surgery area that he himself had operated on not that long ago. He took an acupuncture pin from the pocket of his long white coat. “Tell me when you feel something.” * runs a pin up Cy's spine *

Starting at her tailbone, the doctor ran the pin up Cyclone’s damaged spine. She didn't react at all until the pin was well past the area that had been operated on, which unbeknown to her was what was called the T bones. “Aaaah!” she yelped in surprise than pain, “There, I felt that!”

Somewhat annoyed, Bone Graft poked the pin at the L1 area, where it should have been felt, but got no reaction at all. “Most likely still inflammation.” There was, however, good news. “Swelling is almost gone and there’s no sign of infection.”

“So,” Cyclone huffed, thoroughly bored by all the prodding and poking and rolling, “When do you start putting in all the wires and gadgets? Y'know, like the Six Million Bit Man, or the Bionic Woman? We can rebuild her, we have the technology, and all that?”

For once, perhaps for the first time in his life, Bone Graft laughed. It was a dry, raspy kind of laugh. “We can rebuild you; we have some technology. If you were covert ops for the government, then maybe. Track star for the high school, you are, unfortunately low on the list.”

Cyclone actually found herself contemplating that. Super-Secret Government Cyborg Agent… “I suppose you have a point, doc. Shame though, I was looking forward to doing the hundred meters in two seconds with a pair of bionic legs.”

True Heart knew of her patient’s love of comics and sci fi, so she decided a little joke wasn’t out of the question. “I think you'd do better on the cyborg program. You can be a reserve on the Justice League.”

“Nurse,” Bone Graft playfully admonished her with a knowing wink, “You know that is still classified!”

Because she wasn’t expecting either the nurse or the doctor to have anything resembling a sense of humour, Cyclone burst out laughing, “As long as it's not like Robocop!” she sniggered, “Blue hates that movie.”

True Heart snorted derisively, “I have to agree with her. The physical therapy was terrible in that film.”

“The surgery was pretty silly too,” put in Bone Graft, “But I found it entertaining nonetheless.”

“I know right?” giggled Cyclone, who was for once was enjoying the doctor’s visit, “It was big and dumb and brilliant.” Then, she let out a sigh, “How's it looking, doc, apart from 'I've had major back surgery' back there?”

“Once the inflammation is down and your nerves near the break are reacting we can move on to building up your upper body,” Bone Graft reported once he had given the girl’s lower back another look over.

“I want to do wheelchair racing when I get out of here, doc.” Stated Cyclone determinedly, not wanting to give up doing what she loved doing just because she couldn’t run anymore.

“Now that is something I will personally make sure of,” True Heart cracked her knuckles as she spoke, delighting in the way Cyclone flinched even though she couldn’t see her.

Behind her, Bone Graft chuckled, “I'm sure you will, True Heart.” He checked his watch, knowing he had to move on his rounds. “Sleep well, Cyclone.”

“I don't know whether to be inspired or scared,” Cyclone giggled, ultimately coming down somewhere between the two, “Good night doc, you too nurse.”

“You know the drill, Cyclone,” True Heart patted the girl on the shoulder as she and the doctor made their way out of the hospital room, “You can move your head and your arms, but do not try to roll over. I'm rusty on my bondage, and you don't want to be the one I practice on. Good night, Cyclone.”

Once she was alone in her room, Cyclone was left with nothing but her thoughts to keep her company. “Yeah,” she muttered when her thoughts ran away with themselves, “Now I'm even more convinced she ran Gulag Grover over in Griffonstone,” she grunted and settled on the bed, “At least this is a comfy bed…”

~ ~ ~

A few days later, and doctor Bone Graft was again inspecting Cyclone’s back in her room. He had her on her front, and he was brandishing his acupuncture pin down at the small of her back. “Okay, tell me when you can feel the pin,” he moved it slowly up the girl’s spine.

Tight at the juncture of her L1 / L2 vertebra, Cyclone flinched, “Ooow!” she yelped, at last feeling the prick of the pin, “There! Right there!”

“The good news is the inflammation is gone.” Bone Graft was as satisfied as he sounded, “I'll turn her over to your capable hands tomorrow, nurse True Heart.”

True Heart, who had been overseeing the inspection as per the rules, grinned down at her patient like a lion eyeing up her prey. “I look forward to it, doctor. Get a good night's rest Cyclone. I’m not sure when your next one will be.”

Cyclone didn’t really care for the nurse’s tone. It sounded to her like she was going to have a lot of hard days training ahead of her. “Y'know, nurse, I used to think Coach Iron Will was a hard ass on me, but you make him look like a teddy bear and he made us do a cross country race in the snow last winter.”

“I like the sound of your coach,” True Heart snickered on her way out of the hospital room, “Don’t worry, Cyclone, they frown on me bringing snow into the hospital.” Giving the teenager a wink, she closed the door behind her.

Alone in her bed, Cyclone closed her eyes but, before sleep could claim her, she shuddered, “I am never going to Griffonstone, not ever.”

~ ~ ~

The next morning, bright and very early – so early the sun had only just risen up into the sky – True Heart entered Cyclone’s room with a broad happy grin on her face. “Good morning Cyclone!” she said loudly, in case her patient was asleep, “Roll over please. you've being moved to a new room!”

True Heart watched and waited patiently while the teenager rolled over onto her back. As she had suspected, she was awake already. She could tell, what with her being an athlete. “The room in question is my rehab dungeon, err, I mean empire. First, I'm going to remove your catheter. I have these pretty pink nappies for you. Now you can learn what if feels like to be full and how to express your urine when you want to. Nappies are for training. By the way,” she approved of the effort the girl was putting in. Again, she supposed she shouldn’t be surprised, with her background. “That was a great job rolling over. It is hard to get the legs to cooperate sometimes.”

“You have a rehab dungeon,” Cyclone grunted when she was at last on her back. “I knew it, you were a gulag warden!” she snickered at her own joke, then she winced a little with the removal of the catheter from her urethra. “And don’t worry, I've worn nappies before, with Blue. Thank you, too. This is me now, I'm gonna make the best of it.”

“It is what you need to do,” True Heart stated simply, in her matter of fact tone, before putting the nappy she had bought with her on Cyclone and disconnecting all the monitoring equipment from her. That done, she wheeled the bed out of the room to one of the elevators. They rode that up two floors and down a corridor into yet another room. “This is your new home for the next month.”

The first thing Cyclone saw in the new room was the same blue and white decoration of the room she had been in before. She supposed all the rooms were painted the same. The second thing she saw was a set of rings and a trapeze bar over an empty bed. “Now to move you to the other bed.”

“Whoa!” Cyclone exclaimed when the griffon effortlessly hoisted her up and out of the bed. She knew she didn't weigh much, and she knew that the big woman was immensely strong, but even so, she was impressed at how easily she was hoisted up like she was nothing.

Once Cyclone had been deposited in the new bed, True Heart lowered the trapeze bar with the press of a button in the wall. “This one works the trapeze and the one next to it the rings. Do ten chin ups for me and then it will be breakfast time.”

“Yes ma'am!” excitedly, Cyclone reached up for the bar that was an arm’s length away and, grabbing it, she did five easily. This was at last like training! It felt good, finally, to be working out, even as she slowed on the sixth and seventh chin up. Numbers eight and nine took more effort, but she tried regardless. “C'mon you damned bloody…” she cursed and forced herself to carry on, “HHHNNG ten! Yes! I did ten!”

Impressed, True Heart gave her patient a well-earned round of applause. “Well done. I’ll be back with your breakfast.” With that, she left the room, a proud smile all over her face.

~ ~ ~

Later that same day, in the late afternoon, Bluefeather crept into the hospital room carrying a bouquet of yellow roses and a box dairy milk chocolates. It amused her that her girlfriend was so engrossed in her Power Pony comic that she wasn’t aware she had walked into the room. Bluefeather made it all the way to the side of the bed. She was even able to cough loudly before Cyclone realised she was there. “Good morning!” the grey skinned teen said unnecessarily loudly in her ear.

“Waaaah!” Cyclone jumped, almost dropped the comic she had been reading and for a moment thought she was under attack, until she saw Bluefeather’s shit eating grin inches from her face. She was about to respond with a ‘good morning’, when she remembered it was four in the afternoon. She set aside her comic on the nightstand. “Good afternoon to you, Blue.” She appreciated the way her girlfriend wore the yellow sundress and sandals, and she appreciated the way the dress clung to her body.

“Hey, let me show you something!” excitedly, wanting to show off, Cyclone pressed the switch by her bed that lowered the trapeze bar and then she took hold of it in both her hands. “Raise it up!”

Somewhat mystified, Bluefeather nonetheless stowed the chocolates under her arm that held the roses and she used her free hand to raise the bar. That had the effect of dragging Cyclone’s lower body towards the head of the bed until her butt was under the bar.

“There, that’s good,” when she was satisfied she was in position, Bluefeather released the switch. “Now watch this!” declared Cyclone, who started doing her chin ups. The first seven repetitions went well, but she struggled to make it eight.

Not one to give up when she was showing off how great she was, Cyclone struggled on to get in chin up number nine, only to lose her grip on the bar with both hands when she tried to do the last one. “Aaaaah!” she squealed, sure she was about to hit the wall behind her when, as she fell, Bluefeather moved in quickly to use her free arm to wrap around the back of Cyclone’s shoulders and pull her close. “Damn it!” she exclaimed, “I want to show you ten!”

Bluefeather didn’t bother to hide the amusement in her voice when she spoke, “Why didn’t you stop?”

“Because I didn’t want to look like a fool in front of you,” Cyclone admitted, though from where she was now with her face pressed into her girlfriend’s chest, she supposed it wasn’t a bad outcome.

“Oh, yes,” Bluefeather patted Cyclone’s turquoise hair like a mother would to a child, “It’s far less foolish to hit your head on the wall.” As she said that, she could feel Cyclone chuckling against her body.

“I wasn’t thinking that far out.”

“I love you, my beautiful fool.”

“Yeah, I love you too, Blue. You can let me down now.” Carefully, Bluefeather lowered her girlfriend down and back, until her head rested against the wall. “Thanks Blue!” she then flashed her visitor a huge smile. “So, were you impressed?”

The ‘mother’ in Bluefeather came out again. “Yes Cy, I'm impressed. You never give up. Here,” she handed Cyclone the chocolates, “I need to put these in a vase.”

As Cyclone took the chocolates, her face split into a wide smile, for they were wrapped in a wide piece of paper that bore the signatures and the best wishes of the whole Canterlot High track team. “This is awesome!” she hugged the chocolates like she was hugging the team, then she set them aside next to her on the bed, “I dunno about never giving up...”

In no time at all, Bluefeather returned with one of the vases from the bathroom and after placing the roses in, she set it pride of place on the other nightstand. “I do,” she stated confidently, “You might get discouraged, but you don't quit. Sometimes even when you need to know to stop. You don’t.”

Cyclone laughed at that, all the time she watched Bluefeather busying herself arranging the roses in the vase, getting them just to her liking, “You don't have to deal with the grumpy grey Griff and her twisted torture chamber!”

“I’ll have you know,” Bluefeather turned dramatically to face the bed, “That grumpy grey Griff has allowed you to have two chocolates each time I visit.”

“I've always loved True Heart,” Cyclone changed her tune quick as a flash, “She's amazing!”

Now it was Bluefeather who laughed, her arms crossed under her modest breasts, “Such a change of heart. D’you want a coffee?”

It was amazing, how Cyclone didn’t want a coffee until she had been asked if she did. Then, it was all she wanted. “Yes please, babes, it’s dry in this desert.”

A roll of her eyes silenced her girlfriend’s snark. “Don't you dare open the box while I'm gone,” she bent down and gave the athlete a kiss, “Do feel free to sniff the roses.”

“Yes ma'am,” Cyclone gave Bluefeather a salute, “Leaving the box alone, ma'am.”

Roughly five minutes later, while Bluefeather was away hunting for coffee doing battle with the vending machines, Monsoon walked in looking stressed and harassed. “Finding parking is terrible,” she explained away her ‘look’, “How are you dear?”

“I’m fine…” Cyclone looked away and she rubbed the back of her head, then she decided not to lie to her mother. “Okay, I had the new nightmare again, mom.” Cyclone shuddered, because when she closed her eyes, even to blink, she remembered the feeling of waking up and being unable to move her arms. Then she woke up again to find her legs had been amputated, then waking up and arms were gone.

Full of concern, Monsoon sat next to the bed. So far, she knew she had been the only one her daughter had told about her nightmare. From what Cyclone had described to her, it was horrific. “Have you asked to see the hospital counsellor?”

“No, I um...” Cyclone blushed, “I didn't think that far ahead.”

Even though her daughter was black as night, Monsoon could tell she was blushing. “You're a big girl now, Cy, but you don't have to suffer alone. If you don't like the counsellor, I can find you another. If you don't want to, that’s your choice. Maybe sharing with me and Blue will be enough. If you think True Heart is one that will keep your confidence, you're dead wrong.”

Sliding down the wall until she was laid on her back, Cyclone let out a despondent groan, “She's told you both already, hasn't she?”

“She hasn't told me of any nightmares,” replied Monsoon as she helped her daughter to sit up and lean against the wall once more, “She has told me about when you said they were useless and you thought you'd be better off without them.”

“I had one freak out, that's all,” Cyclone said defensively, “And I didn't mean it, I swear!”

“Since they're both still here,” Monsoon patted Cyclone’s legs and smoothed down the hospital gown down over them, “I guess not, but why are you having the nightmares then?”

Before Cyclone could answer her mother, Bluefeather walked in with three coffees on a tray. “Hey!” she exclaimed playfully, “No making the moves on my girlfriend!”

Cyclone was so grateful for Bluefeather’s timely entrance. It meant she could dodge her mother and avoid talking about her nightmare. “Ewww babes, that's gross!” she giggled, “She's way too old for me.”

“It wasn't ever going to work,” Monsoon sniffed in fake disappointment, “This one is missing vital equipment.” In all the laughter and the giggles, it was a miracle that Bluefeather managed to deliver the coffees without any spills.

“Alas, mother,” Cyclone swooned with a palm to her forehead, “Our love shall remain forever platonically parental.”

“Shall we have some chocolate?” asked Bluefeather as she set the tray down on the wheeled table and moved it over the bed.

Expectantly, Monsoon and Bluefeather both looked at Cyclone like they were waiting for her to pass around the Hearths Warming treats. “Do try to not tear the paper, dear. It can go in a scrap book Blue will keep for you.”

“Got it mom,” reaching for the chocolates, Cyclone very carefully removed the paper, taking particular care not to tear any that bore the signatures that were so precious to her. Inside, she found a get well card. In the card was written, 'Nothing, not even this, is going to slow you down’ and it was signed by Rainbow Dash. “Thanks Cap...” Cyclone sniffed back a couple of tears and smiled, “C'mon guys, dig in.”

As soon as the box was offered to them, Monsoon and Bluefeather both took a couple of the chocolates. “You're not alone, Cy.”

“I know, mom,” Cyclone replied, though her voice was thick with chocolatey goodness filling up her mouth.

“So…why is your head against the wall?” asked Monsoon, who had taken her coffee to wash down the treat, “Doesn't this bed raise up?”

While Bluefeather giggled, Cyclone nodded her head. “It does,” she admitted, “But I've been doing exercises with True Heart, and I wanted to show off for Blue when she came in.”

“Three of those pull up things would have been showing off to me,” said Bluefeather, “This one was determined to do ten.”

Monsoon approved. “I see they wasted no time starting the physical therapy.”

“Hmph…” Cyclone grunted, albeit playfully, “I wish I'd known that before I did nine,” she then giggled, “I still would have done nine. And it's all good, mom, I want to race again. Better to start now than later.”

Broadly, Monsoon smiled as Bluefeather swooped in and gave Cyclone a crushing hug that drove the air from her lungs. “You do make my heart race, sexy.”

“Too cheesy, babes!” laughed Cyclone while her mother simply rolled her eyes at them both, “But don't stop, I love it when you’re cheesy.”

~ ~ ~

A little time later, once the visiting hours were up and after Cyclone had wolfed down her dinner, True Heart entered the room wearing a broad victorious smile on her face, “Well done, you almost ate all of your dinner. Seems the food is growing on you.”

Cyclone blushed like she had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar, “Don't tell anyone, but that was actually nice.”

“Never fear, my dear,” the nurse beamed, proud of her little rhyme, “The chef will never know from me. Pool time. Oh, can you swim?”

“I can,” Cyclone then shrugged as a thought occurred to her, “I mean I could swim, I dunno about now, though.” She had no idea if she could swim or not with her lower body paralysed like it was.

“That’s good enough for me, I've gone four days without a drowning!” True Heart declared before she effortlessly picked Cyclone up and out of the bed and transferred her to a recliner wheelchair.

About to protest at being lifted about like she was a sack of produce; Cyclone instantly changed her mind when she was placed into the wheelchair. “Oooh this is cool,” she passed her judgement, “It’s like a sports car wheelchair! I like this.”

“Yes,” True Heart smirked, “I'll make sure you pass any other wheelchairs. Once you build up your upper abs, you will get the normal chair to move around in. Later, you can get a real racing chair.”

“Now that, will be cool!” Cyclone grinned, imagining herself in a snazzy red racing chair with go faster stripes, “I can't wait to blow them off the track again.”

In no time at all, they arrived at the therapy pool, but they weren’t alone. There were two others already swimming in the crystal clear water. “Okay,” True Heart began, “While the body is naturally buoyant, I have these for your ankles.” Seemingly from nowhere, she produced two child arm floaties, each decorated with Saddle Rager. “They are the only Power Pony ones they had.”

“Awww!” Cyclone, who had thought of the nurse as just an unreachable mountain of muscle who delighted in tormenting her, found herself smiling a goofy little smile. She had obviously gone out of her way to get floaties she knew she would like best. It touched her, right in the feels. “Thanks nurse, that's really awesome.”

Smiling affectionately, for she had taken a liking to her young patient, True Heart placed the floaties on her ankles. “If anyone asks, they came from your girlfriend. I do have a tough as nails persona to maintain.”

Cyclone gave the nurse a conspiratorial wink. “Your secret's safe with me, nurse.”

Still smiling, True Heart proceeded to remove her uniform, revealing that she was wearing a one piece swimsuit underneath. It showed off her stunningly muscular physique, leaving nothing to the imagination. Then, she wheeled Cyclone behind a partition. “I like to do that out there,” she grinned with a flex of her arms, “Helps invigorate some hearts. Now to get your swimsuit on.”

“Well you kick started mine, nurse,” Cyclone didn’t even try to hide the fact that she was checking out the much older woman, “I mean you're fit, in a hot-Griffon-biceps-bigger-than-my-head kind of way.”

“Lifting people is a great work out,” True Heart removed her patient’s hospital gown and she put her into a hospital black one piece that fit her perfectly. “Ready to work on swimming? Good low resistance work out.”

“I'm sure I don't give you much of a work out,” snickered Cyclone as she watched the nurse pull up the swimsuit over her nonnon-existent breasts, “I'm ten stone. There are goal posts wider than me,” she giggled, “Let's get to it!”

The one hour long exercise in the pool consisted mostly of Cyclone doing laps, with the nurse there on hand in case of any distress. After the hour, the black skinned teenager was at the side of the pool panting, tired but very happy with herself.

“Next stop is the rack!” declared True Heart with barely disguised glee as she lifted Cyclone up and out of the pool and she carried her over to a lounge chair. There, she gave her a towel to dry off her upper body while she worked on the legs.

“Y-You are way too enthusiastic about the rack, you know that, right?”

Of course True Heart knew it. That was why she did it! And it was fun. “I wish to keep your optimism at a high level,” she grinned and, once they were both dry and the floaties had been removed from her legs, she carried Cyclone over to the isometric leg exerciser she affectionately called ‘the rack’.

“Hey, True Heart?” Cyclone purposefully didn’t use the term 'nurse' for once, “Can I talk to you about something?”

Once she had the teenager secured in the machine and she was happy the machine was doing its thing, the nurse sat on a chair next to Cyclone. She wasn’t usually good with things like this, but she recognised when someone needed to unload. “Please do.”

“Well...” Cyclone paused, realising she was really bad at things like talking about her feelings and things that bothered her. This wasn’t what she was good at. “You see, the thing is, I've been having nightmares. A nightmare. A new one.”

“You have had the same one more than twice?”

“Yeah. Same one more than twice,” as much as she felt like a lame idiot, Cyclone forced herself to keep speaking. It felt like all she was doing was making noise come out of her mouth. “You uh, you remember what I said about waking up and finding I've been operated on again?”

“I remember,” True Heart opted for what she hoped was a calm reassuring tone, encouraging the girl to continue, “But I only told your mother about that.”

“That's the nightmare,” Cyclone found that when she started, it was like a flood gate opening up, and it was easier to carry on, “I wake up and Bone Graft's like, "we had to operate, there was an infection," and I can't move my arms or anything.”

“Would you like to talk to our resident shrink about this?” asked True Heart, “I will heal your body, but I am not so good with the mind.”

Cyclone carried on like the nurse hadn’t said anything, “That's just the start. Next time I wake up, my legs are just stumps above the knee,” she shivered and scrunched up her eyes as if that would guard against the unwelcome memory. “Then the next time, my arms are gone all the way to my shoulders. I dunno if there's any more, that's when I wake up screaming and screaming.”

True Heart didn’t wait to get Cyclone’s approval. She made up her mind. “I will schedule you some time with Counsellor Good Hope.”

“Thanks, True Heart, I really appreciate it…” Cyclone cried out a few sobs before she could stop herself. Quickly, but not quickly enough to stop the nurse seeing, she rubbed her hands over her eyes. “I-I’m sorry...”

Far from laughing or judging her, True Heart placed her large dustbin lid like hand on her shoulder, “This is a place of healing, but not everyone can be healed. Good Hope’s main job is the terminally ill and suicide prevention. You will leave this place. I'm sure your girlfriend will push you for that.”

“Yeah,” Cyclone smiled, how could she not be reassured when that hand was on her shoulder? “Blue won't let me quit. She's my inspiration, she's my sun, she's my everything, True.”

“Hold onto that.” The nurse then checked the clock and her watch. “Your thirty minutes are up. I do hope my torture device has lived up to its name.”

“I can't really say,” Cyclone giggled, “I've spent the whole time crying at you like an overgrown baby. You'll just have to try harder with your devices.” As soon as she said that, she regretted it, because the glint was back in the nurse’s eyes.

“Cannot win them all,” shrugged True Heart, “But there is always next time. Now for the shower, or would you prefer a bath?”

“A bath, please True Heart. I promise not to splash you.”

“Not that I care. I have the swimsuit on.” It was a short journey from the exercise machine to the bath and, while she was being supervised, the nurse allowed Cyclone to clean herself. True to her word, Cyclone didn’t splash her. Well, not much, anyway, and only a little on purpose.

Once Cyclone was clean and dry, True Heart dressed her in a fresh hospital gown and ferried her in the wheelchair back to her bed. “Supper will be in an hour, feel free to use the bar or rings. I will put in a request for the counsellor.”

“Thanks True Heart, you're the best.”

~ ~ ~

The next day, doctor Good Hope showed up right after visiting hours in the late afternoon. In a stark contrast to Bone Graft, this doctor was young, barely in his thirties, with a well-trimmed goatee beard and rimless glasses. “Greetings to you, Cyclone, I'm doctor Good Hope. Resident psychiatrist and counsellor. Nurse True Heart sent me an urgent request for a meeting.”

Cyclone couldn’t help but chuckle. It sounded like the nurse to make the request ‘urgent’. “Yeah, hey doc, uh...True Heart said you're the guy I need to talk to about what’s bothering me.”

Looking down at his clipboard, Good Hope was aware on a very basic level what was ‘bothering’ the young girl. “Reoccurring nightmares, yes? Do these dreams give you suicidal thoughts?”

The doctor’s directness took Cyclone by surprise, making her think about that while he took a seat by her bed. “Well, um...” she hadn’t been suicidal, just extremely freaked out, “Uh…not really, they just scare the living crap outta me.”

Quickly, the doctor scribbled some notes on his clipboard. “The nightmare stems from your injury?”

“Yeah, you see it's like this,” Cyclone paused and took a deep breath, then for what felt like the hundredth time, she detailed the nightmare. “I woke up once, I was paralysed. I woke up again, I was incontinent. So, my nightmare is basically I wake up totally paralysed, then over a few wake ups, my limbs are all amputated.”

Thoughtfully, Good Hope nodded his head but he didn’t speak until the teenager was finished. “A traumatic injury can cause such thoughts which lead to dreams of a lucid nature.” He had a suspicion that she had told him the concise version. “We have a weekly group meeting for individuals such as you, who have suffered traumatic injuries. An opportunity to share their perspective. Would you like to join such a group?”

“Yeah,” Cyclone agreed readily, “I’ll do anything, if you think it'll help, anything, I just want these dreams to end!”

Good Hope smiled, pleased that his sell had gone relatively quickly and painless. “Okay, we meet at seven p.m. after dinner on Tuesdays.”

“What about between now and then?” demanded Cyclone, suddenly her temper flared at the possibility that she wasn’t going to get cured in an instant like she wanted, “I don't want to go to sleep! You gotta help me with that, please, I'm too scared to go to sleep!”

“How do you feel about medication?” asked Good Hope, who did have a degree of sympathy for the teenager, “I can give you pills that will put you into a deep sleep, no dreams. The problem is they are extremely addictive.”

“Okay, lay it on me, anything, please!”

The readiness with which she agreed to the medication did give the doctor pause for concern. Still, he nodded in acquiescence to her request. “I'll have the duty nurse bring you some for tonight. I would like you to try tomorrow night without them. If the dream returns, we'll prescribe it to you, but I strongly repeat, it’s not the best solution for your problem.”

“Doc,” Cyclone groaned, “I really don't care, I just wanna sleep and not wake up screaming in the morning.”

“It will take time, Cyclone,” Good Hope said softly and delicately, “Part of that is coming to grips with what happened to you, and that the event is over. Moving on is what the group session is for.”

~ ~ ~

After a dreamless sleep, Bluefeather arrived at the hospital the next morning just as Cyclone was getting her breakfast. “Monsoon dropped me off today,” she said as she breezed in through the doors to her girlfriend’s room, “She’ll be here before lunch with Tropical Storm. Has breakfast gotten any better?”

“It has!” Cyclone shuddered, for the moment sparing the bacon and scrambled eggs their fate in her mouth, “Either I'm getting accustomed to it or it's actually nice!” she flashed Bluefeather a huge welcoming smile. “It's good to see you babes.”

Without hesitation, or worry for her cream coloured sundress, Bluefeather swooped in for a bacon flavoured kiss when Cyclone popped the bacon in her mouth. She had to be sure, after all. “Not bad at all.”

“Mmmm, kiss me again, you sexy girl!” Cyclone beamed, all bright eyed and bushy tailed this morning following her medicated dreamless sleep.

How are you doing with the Gulag Commandant?”

“True Heart is a gem,” giggled Cyclone, “I just had to find it under her scary facade.” They both shared a giggle at that, but then, half way though her breakfast, Cyclone suddenly slapped her hand over her mouth, and her eyes went wide. “Wastebasket!”

Luckily, Bluefeather was quick to act, and she grabbed the wastebasket off the floor and she bought it up just in time for her girlfriend to take hold of it and heave the contents of her stomach into it. In a panic, she asked, “Are you okay? Do I need to get help?”

“N-No... I-I'm fi.... eeeEEEEEUUUURGH!” Cyclone though was too busy chucking up again, noisily splattering her vomit into the bin to fully complete her sentence. “I’m fine...I'm fine…”

“But, you're throwing up!” pointed out Bluefeather, “That is not fine, Cy.”

“I-It's...fine...” groaned Cyclone who, after a lumpy burp, filled up the basket some more, groaned out an explanation, “D-Doc Good Hope...I was warned, the meds would cause nausea,” her watering teary eyes again went wide, afraid that she had said it now.

“They gave you new meds?” asked Bluefeather, who didn’t have the first clue who Good Hope was, “What for, are you in any pain?”

“Not for pain, no. I um...I've been seeing...” Cyclone sighed, unwilling to be parted from the wastebasket in case she needed it again. “Doc Good Hope is the hospital shrink, Blue.”

All the panic drained out of Bluefeather and, in a very soft, almost inaudible voice, she said, “Oh.”

Cyclone, realising the cat was well and truly out of the bag, and was fighting with the genie who had been released from the bottle, knew she had to explain properly. “I um, I've been having nightmares. Bad ones.”

Bluefeather sank to the bed, “I'm sorry.”

“It's not your fault, babes!” Cyclone added quickly, before she went on to tell her girlfriend all about the nightmare she had been experiencing for the past few days, and about Good Hope.

Listening intently, Bluefeather at least felt a bit better, but she still felt utterly wretched deep down that Cyclone was in the hospital in the first place. “I guess,” she managed a thin smile, “If the doc gave it, it’s okay. So, no nightmare last night?”

“Nope!” feeling stable for the moment, Cyclone passed the wastebasket to Bluefeather, who handled it with intense distaste as she set it on the floor, “No nightmare! I felt like a million bits when I woke up this morning.”

Pointedly ignoring the contents of the basket, Bluefeather filled an empty glass with cold water and she took Cyclone's toothbrush and toothpaste form the night stand. “No more kisses till you clean up that mouth.”

“Yes ma'am,” Cyclone duly took the toothbrush and paste, “I’m cleaning up, ma'am,” she giggled and proceeded to thoroughly brush her teeth. There was no way she was going through the day without any more kisses.

While Cyclone was busy doing that, Bluefeather couldn’t help but notice the half-eaten plate of bacon, eggs and toast. “Are you done with your breakfast?”

“Hmhmmm!” with a mouth full of toothpaste, Cyclone gave her a thumbs up 'yes'. She’d only just finished chucking up. She wasn’t keen to start doing that again.

Not one to let good food go to waste, Bluefeather took the plate and started to eat. “More bacon for me!”

Once she was done with cleaning her teeth, she set the glass and toothbrush on her night stand and rested with her back against the wall, feeling decidedly better after all that. “So, how's life on the outside?”

Of course, Bluefeather knew her girlfriend was changing the subject, but she decided to not call her on it. “Not bad. Summer is hot,” she giggled, gesturing to her cream dress as a justification to her wearing it, “So, are you back in control for a chocolate?”

“Yes please babes!” Cyclone smiled, “I really can't wait to get outside, these walls are driving me crazy.”

When Bluefeather went to get a chocolate for each of them, she was pleased to see that the ‘right’ amount of the treats were there in the tray and that Cyclone hadn’t cheated on her. “Pass your rehab and you're out. Three more weeks, right?”

“Three more weeks.” Cyclone said it like it was a life sentence, but the chocolate helped, a lot. “Just in time for senior year at CHS, yay!”

“When will you get stated in the wheelchair?” asked Bluefeather in between shovelling mouthfuls of eggs and bacon into her mouth.

“In five to eight days, depending on how well I do with True Heart's training.”

“I'm going to tell her to push you harder then.”

When she heard that, Cyclone gave Bluefeather a wry deadpan eyebrow. “You are aware this is True Heart, right?” she asked with a completely nonplussed roll of her eyes, “She doesn't need any encouragement to go hard on me.”

Giggling, Bluefeather had to concede that. “Okay, I'll take it easy on you.”

“Oh for sweet mercy!” Cyclone giggled brightly, the wastebasket forgotten, “Can I have snuggles and kisses now please? There's room in the bed.”

After scouring the plate clean of any food, Bluefeather climbed up into the bed by Cyclone’s side. “I can do that.” As it turned out, she was right. There was plenty of room in the bed.

“I have so missed this!” exclaimed Cyclone, who immediately wrapped her arms around Bluefeather and she hugged her close.

The two young lovers got one hour of general snuggle time - Bluefeather was not about to risk doing anything more in a hospital bed, as much as she wanted to – before Tropical Storm and Monsoon walked in. “I'd say get a room,” he snickered, “But you two already have one.”

“How are you doing dear?” Monsoon asked with a broad smile. She could see perfectly obviously how well she was doing. “You’re staying warm, I see.”

Cyclone turned an unapologetic look to her grinning parents and made no attempt whatsoever to hide what she was doing with her girlfriend. “It's important to share body warmth in a survival situation, mom.”

“Right.” Tropical Storm sounded as unconvinced as he looked, “We've gone and gotten the recommended items for you at home. We just need to bust you out of this place.”

Playfully swatting her overgrown child of a husband, Monsoon laughed, “Nurse True Heart says you're doing well with the rehab therapy.”

“Now I've got going,” nodded Cyclone eagerly, “I think True Heart respects the fact that I want to go hard on her various torture devices.”

“We’ve got the isometric machine,” said Tropical Storm as he took one of the seats by the bed, “And a racing wheelchair for you.”

“We’ve also outfitted the home for you to have easier access when you do get out of here,” added Monsoon.

“That’s so awesome! Thanks you guys!” Cyclone opened her arms for a big hug, though Bluefeather was already in her embrace, so she opened her arms, which served to widen the radius of the hugging circle. As they all hugged, Cyclone felt a warm fuzzy feeling in her belly, at once she had proper optimism for her future.