Monday, September 15th, 909 AB (moments later)

“Aaaalright,” the colt drawls, removing his hoof from the unconscious stallion. “He should start coming to in just a moment.” With Lord Clearport’s injury healed and him breathing under his own power, Cure ignites his horn and gently removes the collar wrapped around the unicorn’s neck, then the four smaller ones wrapped around each of his legs at the thigh. He goes the extra distance and regrows the stallion’s fur, blending the coat so there is no outward sign that the unit was attached at all.

The backpacks the young alicorn created were designed with emergencies in mind, and while they can provide for everything a patient may need in a crunch, they were not created with the intention of replacing the traditional methods of keeping somepony alive. They can for a short while, but not only will this cause them to burn through their energy stores at an unsustainable rate, neither the pulmonary nor the digestive systems of ponies fare well when they go unused for too long.

There is also the entirely valid argument against having a single point of failure. While it may be safe to assume that a creation of the Alicorn of Life will work as intended, it wouldn’t do to overly rely on a completely new and unorthodox method that is still in the process of being vetted. Having it as a redundancy may give the care team a cushion if something were to fail, but tried and true methods should be and still are their first go-to options.

It’s the exact reason why Cure has not yet tried to improve on the existing technology. That and, at the end of the day, if somepony needs an external source to provide food into their gut and pump air into their lungs, there’s only a few ways to really accomplish that. There’s no better method of helping somepony breathe, and the only alternative to a feeding tube down the throat would be a surgically installed one that is a far more invasive procedure and is wholly unnecessary for a short term stay.

The two actual doctors in the room don’t sit idle. While Cure is removing his invention, they both get started on the process of extubating the patient, removing his feeding tube, and taking care of the catheter that had been inserted. Those are all duties that a nurse would normally take care of, but seem to be eager to get the stallion back on his hooves.

Once free of all medical equipment, Dr. Care and Cure start slinging around Sanitize spells to maintain maximum cleanliness while Dr. Nala repositions the stallion on his barrel with a small pillow under his chin between his forelegs. Cure smoothes over the previously attached areas of irritation and swelling that the removed instruments caused, then the three settle in to wait.

The small team spends the next few minutes chatting about other patients that have come and gone over the last couple weeks as well as give the colt a rundown of what he can expect to deal with for the next few hours.

They fall silent when the stallion finally begins to stir. Dr. Nala waits by the door while Dr. Care stands on his left and Cure, reared up to lean against the bed, stands on his right to flank the older unicorn. Their arrangement was suggested by the intensivist as, unfortunately, some patients don’t respond the best when awakening to find a zebra staring down at them.

Cure reluctantly admits to himself that it would probably not go well if he were to find himself in that situation, though his reasoning is likely quite different from that of the average bedbound patient.

With a cup of water hovering in her aura, Dr. Care gently runs her fetlock down the elder unicorn’s neck. “Lord Clearport?” she softly calls. “Can you hear me, sir?”

Eyes cracking open, the stallion glances in her direction before letting out a wheezing cough. “Take it easy, sir. I don’t know how much you remember, but you took quite the spill. Here, have some water,” she offers, hovering the cup in front of his muzzle. Tipping it so he can slowly sip it down, she continues, “You’re at the Baltimare Hospital in the Intensive Care Unit. It’s Monday, the fifteenth. I'm Doctor Mending Care. His Highness, Prince Serpentus is here -”

The colt chirps out a “Yo!” and waves a hoof from the stallion’s other side.

“- as is Doctor Nala, who’s in charge of our ICU.”

“Greetings, Lord Clearport.”

“To you as well, doctor,” he returns between sips. It takes a moment for him to get the rest of the cup down, and he takes the opportunity to look around the room and gather his thoughts. Speaking slowly, the stallion begins, “I remember leaving the club.” It takes another moment before he goes on. “I had arrived home. I remember standing to leave the carriage, then…” he pauses, staring off into the distance for a moment, then shaking his head. “I cannot remember what happened next. Where is my wife?”

“She’s at home,” Dr. Care responds. “It’s early Monday morning, sir. You fell out of the carriage and have been unconscious for the last four and a half days. She’s been here every day, but it’s still quite early. We’ll have to send somepony to inform her of your recovery.”

He looks to his right, noting that the young alicorn is smiling up at him. “Your highness,” he intones, dipping his head in a shallow bow. “Presumably if I am in the intensive care unit and my condition warranted treatment from your esteemed self, then I was not merely unconscious.”

“No formalities needed here, mister. You were unconscious, but your odds of ever waking up, let alone being functional again, were not the greatest. I had to fix up the area under your horn which includes the part of the brain called the frontal lobe. You should be good as new, but that is the part of the brain we use for decision making, planning, and a number of other very important things.”

Dr. Care smoothly steps in to add, “It’s the part of the brain that, in many ways, makes you you. His highness has been able to heal ponies with damage to that area in the past, and in those instances there wasn’t any significant change to the pony’s behavior, but we haven’t had time to see how everything plays out months or years down the line.”

Growing concern visible on his face, Lord Clearport asks, “Then one could argue that who I was is essentially deceased?!”

“No,” she firmly insists. “You have all of your memories, correct?”

He only spends a moment in thought before slowly nodding. “I do. That is to say, I'm confident that I do.”

"Do you, perhaps, keep a journal?" the mare asks.

"I do. Several, in fact." He smiles faintly, adding, "I began keeping one at my wife's suggestion early on in my career. She suggested them as a means to organize my thoughts. While her wisdom, as always, was invaluable, I dearly wish she had taken her own advice as well."

"That's perfect!" she exclaims. She rests her fetlock on top of his, encouragingly suggesting, "I highly recommend you look over them in the coming weeks. Perhaps review the decisions you’ve made to determine whether, under the same circumstances and without the gift of hindsight, you believe you would make them the same way. Spend some time with your family and any close friends so they can reassure you that you are still the same Lord Clearport that you were before.”

Looking somewhat relieved at the advice, he sighs deeply and nods in acceptance. “I believe that is a prudent suggestion, if due no other reason than to assuage any doubts,” he pauses, shifting slightly on the bed. “Mental faculties aside, I feel perfectly healthy, all things considered.” He wiggles a little more energetically and adds, “In fact, I can’t help but notice that my hip is no longer aching as it is often wont to.”

“You’re welcome!”

“Much appreciated, your highness.” He gives Dr. Care a warm smile, then cautiously rises, turns, and sits on his haunches facing Dr. Nala and the room’s door. Cure and both doctors watch on warily, ready to dive into action if the older unicorn looks like he is even the slightest bit unsteady, but he manages fine without their assistance.

Relieved not only that Lord Clearport didn’t lose his balance, but also that he’s beside the stallion instead of staring right at his junk, Cure continues explaining everything he took care of. “So just to be clear, I only healed the existing injuries and made some quality of life fixes. No more arthritis, as you’ve already noticed, no more IBS, I cleaned up a few old, healed injuries, and so on and so forth. What I did not do is give you the comprehensive snout to tail cure-all, and that’s only because you weren’t conscious to give me the okay to do so.”

“Ah. That is reasonable. I cannot imagine most ponies would decline such an offer.”

“No, most don’t, but that was not explicitly asked of me from your power of attorney.”

“Given that my wife is incapable of performing the requisite duties, I presume that would be my daughter, Midday?”

“You would presume correctly,” he confirms with a nod.

“I’m amazed she asked for you to heal me at all,” the stallion admits with a chuckle. When all three equines minutely wince he laughs more energetically. “She did not ask you to heal me, did she?”

“I didn’t want to burden you with this right after waking up,” the colt sheepishly admits, “but no, she did not. She was adamant that you be ‘removed from life preserving measures’ before I even showed up.”

Lord Clearport nods understandingly and, if Cure isn’t mistaken, even seems to approve. “That does sound much more like my little Middy.” He takes in their somewhat taken aback demeanours and softly snorts. “I beg your forgiveness, your highness, esteemed ladies, but I would argue that not even a dam knows their foals as well as their sire does. Unlike my wife, I was never blinded to my childrens’ shortcomings. Midday has never lacked for ambition. She has a fire within her unlike our others. That is why I trust her to ensure everything I built continues well beyond myself.”

“That’s…” Dr. Care begins before drifting off into a sigh. Massaging her temple with a fetlock, she says, “Honestly, I’m not sure what to say, sir. Now that you are capable of making that decision for yourself, what would you like to do?”

He turns to Cure with a questioning look. “Forgive my ignorance, but if his highness’s power could cure all that ails, presumably it might afford one more time before the eventual inevitable?”

“Definitely. Ponies don’t die simply from age, after all. If you take an old, beat up wagon and fix it up, even if it is still old you’ll still get at least a few more trips out of it.”

Nodding in acceptance, Lord Clearport immediately follows up, “Well then, my only other concern is whether or not his highness believes it is within his power to restore my wife’s mind as well.” He gains a faraway look, turning his neck to face the wall above and slightly to the left of Dr. Care.

Cure can’t be sure exactly where in Parkdale Lady Clearport may be, but he’d be willing to bet more than a few bits he could fly in the direction that the stallion’s snout is pointed and pass right over her. Being distinctly aware of the absence of a similar feeling, he can’t help but feel a pang of envy as it creeps into his heart.

Unaware of the alicorn’s anguish, the elder unicorn smiles wistfully and continues, “We have been together for sixty two years. She has always been my rudder, steering me through the worst storms life threw at me.” With a firm nod he insists, “If I cannot have her by my side in this life then I would rather hope to find her in whatever comes after.”

A lump forms in Cure’s throat that not even his talent can dispel. He struggles valiantly to hold back the tears fighting to escape, locking the muscles at the base of his ears to keep them upright and focused ahead of himself instead of allowing them to droop forlornly and show his true feelings. Fortunately only Dr. Nala can see him, and she’s focused on her patient enough that the moisture gathered around the colt's eyes escape her notice.

Dr. Care assures him, “We’ll make an appointment to get her seen. I’m sure his highness will take good care of her, Lord Clearport. If I may suggest, perhaps it would put any concerns to bed if his highness might treat both of you at the same time?”

“Sure. That works for me,” Cure agrees, struggling to at least seem like his normal chipper self.

The stallion hesitates only a moment before nodding in acceptance. “I believe I would rest easier seeing her restored first.”

“Perfect. Before you head home today, swing by the desk in front of my office near the main lobby. As for you, here, now… Well, I think I’ll defer to the actual doctors on that.” He turns to Dr. Nala and waves a hoof at the stallion, saying, “I believe my work is done here, doc.”

The mare approaches on the alicorn’s left, explaining, “We would like to get you up and moving, first. Normally we would take things much more slowly, but with the effectiveness of his highness’s healing, we should have you ready to go within a few hours. Once we see that you are moving without difficulty, we’ll have somepony bring you a light meal and, if everything goes well, prepare you for discharge.”

“That sounds perfect, madame. Then, in the meantime, I don’t suppose anypony has a copy of today’s Sun nearby? It seems I have a few days worth of news to catch up on.”

“We’ll have one brought to your room as soon as we can,” Dr. Nala replies. “For now, I believe we should inform your daughter of your recovery and get everything started on our end.”

Sliding back down to lay on his barrel, Lord Clearport smirks and shakes his head. “There is no need for you to endure my daughter’s ire, doctor. I would happily remove that burden from your withers. Besides, I believe this may prove quite entertaining, should you be willing to afford me another moment of your time,”

The zebra smiles and gestures to the door. “By all means.”

Horn lit, the stallion pulls the door open and calls out, “Midday, sweetheart?”

Out in the hallway Cure hears the mare quietly hiss, “That sounded like my sire! What did that fucking brat do?!” The colt can almost imagine her leaning into her attorney’s ear while seething.

“Mrs. Clearport- ” the lawyer begins to whisper back.

She doesn’t give him any chance to respond, pushing past him to approach the door. Smiling joyfully, she peers around the frame with eager eyes. Even with his extraordinary senses, had she not just told the colt to pull the plug on her sire, he would never suspect she was anything but elated. There is still the lingering scent of fury on her, but even that is fading quickly.

“Daddy!” she nearly squeals, rushing to his bedside as quickly as any sixty year old mare could be expected to. She nearly body checks Dr. Care out of the way when she rears up to wrap around her sire’s neck with her forelegs, nuzzling her head into his mane. “They said you may never wake! I am so relieved!”

“See? I told you I would get him off that life support stuff, no problem,” Cure smugly declares.

She opens her eyes and peers down, staring daggers at the grinning foal. “You have my eternal gratitude, your highness. I shall endeavor to find some way to repay this debt, of this I promise.”

“Think nothing of it, really,” he insists, flicking his wing in dismissal.

Leaning his head into her right shoulder, Lord Clearport assures her, “We may end up further in his highness’s debt in the coming weeks. At the good doctor’s urging, I intend to make a follow-up appointment to address any lingering conditions his highness was not prepared to resolve today. Suffice to say, his highness is certain that your dam and I will be hale and healthy for many years to come.”

Leaning back so she can meet her sire's eyes with a beaming grin plastered across her muzzle, she says, “I cannot tell you how thrilled I am to hear that, daddy. Truly the maker has blessed all of Equestria to give us such an upstanding. Fine. Young. Gentlestallion.”

“Indeed she has,” her sire warmly agrees. “Indeed she has.”

Author's Note

I was going to leave this to everyone's imagination, but the idea of what could happen next just wouldn't stop bugging me until I wrote something out. It's probably not quite what most of you were hoping for, but without letting it go too far off topic with the whole "I fixed your brain" thing, this feels like at least a somewhat realistic outcome given the scenario.

I may revisit that topic more in-depth in a later chapter, but this was intended to be a short one. I'm not sure it would meet some people's definition of a short chapter, but I'm beginning to doubt that I have it within myself to write one that REALLY is short.

Hopefully this'll help you all get by until we get a chance to hop over to Filly, which is probably a couple weeks from being ready.

Enjoy!