Saturday, November 8th, 908 AB (8 days later)

The morning started normally enough. Cure woke up, this time finding himself pressed against his dam’s chest. Laying there languidly for a half hour, he enjoyed the gentle friction of her coat against his whenever she took a breath. Once everypony finally woke up and took care of their immediate needs they gathered at the table for breakfast.

After Nightmare Night Emerald had reached out to Gale, who in turn apparently spoke with some of the other directors for the Baltimare Regional Health Authority. They’d gotten word back and asked to meet with the family at the clinic today. Apparently the news that Cure could potentially heal debilitating injuries had quite the impact and they were eager to meet to discuss the possibility.

Surprisingly, the family still hasn’t heard back from Grandpa Brick. One would think that Cure’s messages would be prioritized given his value as an asset, let alone being family, but maybe the fault lies in the mail system instead of somepony on grandpa’s side.

“Ya sure about this sport? Yer dam and I are a bit worried ya may be takin too much on here.”

“Yeah, dad. You know this has really been eating at me. I can feel it in here,” he explains, tapping at his chest. “This is what I’m really supposed to be doing with my talent. The bits from the cosmetic crap are nice and there is some sort-of-healing there, but that’s just income that lets me do what I really should be doing with my life.”

“I don’t see why you’re not accepting a wage, Cure,” Title says. “Doctors, nurses, EMTs, researchers… they all get paid to work. Many of them have talents related to taking care of ponies too, so you can’t make the ‘it’s my cutie mark’ argument either.”

“I realize that, mom, and if I ever stop doing the cosmetic stuff and legitimately need income then I’ll agree wholeheartedly. I… I think it may actually be some kind of calling for me, though. Like… this is what I’m supposed to do.”

Worry etched across her face, Vines hesitantly asks, “Honey, is this the whole alicorn thing we discussed a while back? Do… Do you think something like that is happening here?”

With all three parents holding their breath and watching intently, Cure shakes his head no. “I doubt it. I think that’s like… a whole ‘nother level from what this is. I think that takes something big and way over the top. This is probably some kind of mark compulsion thing, but even if that’s the case I’m not mad about it or anything.

Think about it like this. A lot of ponies are following their marks. Lemon runs a candy store,” he points out, then waves a hoof at each parent, “you two work in real estate, you grow food in a garden. Those are all ‘following your destiny’ to some degree. That’s not going to make ya pop a horn and wings out your head and back.”

“A fair point, son. I guess if it was that simple half’a the ponies out there would be alicorns too.”

“Cure, babe,” Title starts, “if it was a compulsion wouldn’t the fact that it is mean it would also be compelling you to accept it.”

“I mean… I guess, maybe?” he answers, scratching at his chin with a hoof. “I guess that’s a good reason to have this discussion, though. Look at it this way,” he explains, “I’m making four to eight thousand bits a week. Do I really need to ask for another fifty bits, or even five hundred if they offered, to do something objectively good?”

“No, sweetie. You’re not wrong. Your mom’s point isn’t wrong either, but that’s not what we’re mostly concerned about. We’re worried that once you start doing this you’re not going to be able to have a normal life.”

“Yeah, champ. Yer gonna have ponies buggin ya all the time ta fix every lil thing wrong. Yer gonna hafta change yer colors just ta go outside before too long.”

“Not if they can help me keep my anonymity. That’s what we’re meeting about today. That has to be a condition of this unless they want to wait a few more years. Either they can keep my name and description private or they have to wait until I’m an adult. Does that seem fair?”

Mulling it over for a moment the three trade looks and, while sighing in defeat, hesitantly nod.

“As long as they can shift the attention somewhere else I think we can accept it,” Title says, voicing the collective agreement. “I am a little worried that ponies will assume it’s you because of your cosmetic business, though. The two are, kinda-sorta, related after all.”

“Yeah, Mr. Haze said the same thing. I think that’s less likely to happen than we expect, though. After all, there’s unicorns right now that can do some of that cosmetic stuff. As far as I know none of them can heal disabilities though. Hopefully ponies will just make the same assumption and not link me to the healing. We’ll just have to see what Gale suggests.”

Consensus reached, the four finish breakfast and, after getting cleaned up and ready for the day, head out towards their meeting.

Approaching the clinic with his parents, Cure sees Gale standing outside waiting just like she had when he and his dam came for his first shift. Once again, the light gray pegasus perks up and waves enthusiastically when she sees the group getting close.

His sire, mom, and he could all tell she’d spotted them far earlier with her pegasus eyes, but she’s obviously well practiced in judging when other ponies are close enough to see her with their, normally, inferior visual acuity.

Fortunately the family had plenty of discussions before about not disclosing their real capabilities when he upgraded their senses of smell and hearing a couple weeks prior, so by now they were subtle enough to not draw undue attention by reacting to sights, smells, or sounds that were undetectable by normal ponies.

The ability to decrease their sensitivity to normal pony levels made it quite a bit easier to determine the difference. It also made enduring the unfortunate unpleasant experiences a lot easier, since they were an unavoidable part of life. Nopony wants their sense of smell or hearing turned up to eleven when somepony’s had too much fiber lately, after all.

“Good morning, everypony! It’s nice to see you all again! Come on in, we have the meeting room all ready for you,” Gale enthusiastically calls out, waving a wing to the entrance and leading the group in. There’s a couple ponies in the lobby; a dam with a sniffling, coughing foal and a stallion that’s looking a little more green than a pony with a yellow coat should.

When the parents and the stallion look up at the four new arrivals being ushered past the lobby, River simply explains, “They’re not here to be treated, don’t worry. They’re here for a totally separate meeting,” getting understanding nods from the waiting patients.

Gale thanks her with a quick smile and leads the group to the same meeting room they’d originally met her in just over a month prior. Already seated in the room are two mares, both unicorns. Upon seeing the one unicorn, Cure has a pretty good idea how this meeting is going to go.

Gale takes a seat on the pair’s left side while Cure hops on the raised chair on the opposite side of the table with his dam on his left, sire on his right, and Title to the right of him.

The unicorn farthest on Cure’s left, across the table from Vines, has a dark green coat, a shade or two darker than his dam; more of a forest green than her brighter emerald color. Her mane is a dark brown color, just a little lighter than Deed’s coat.

The unicorn sat in the middle, somewhat across from Cure and Deed, is bigger than a unicorn mare should be. Just slightly smaller than Vines and Title, Cure’s certain the muscular, light brown mare is here to see if he can, in fact, fix a horn that isn’t working properly. Green must be the color of the day, as her mane color is nearly an exact match for Cure’s.

Both mares look to be in the mid to late forties, maybe early fifties.

“Okay! Good morning, again, everypony!” Gale starts. “First off, introductions! Here with me is our Chief Physician, Doctor Mending Care,” she says, looking down the table and getting a stoic nod from the green coated mare, “and our Assistant Director of Creature Resources, Mrs. Perfect Hire.”

Perfect Hire offers a warm smile and a quick “Good morning” before Gale continues, introducing the family to the two and re-introducing herself to everypony since she had only met the parents one time each.

After the round of introductions and greetings are exchanged it’s the doctor that takes over the conversation. “As I understand,” she begins, “young Mr. Cure Wave,” she glances in his direction, “believes he may be able to assist ponies who are either born with or have suffered a debilitating condition.

“Obviously we were eager to follow-up on a report like that and, given the initial reviews of his performance, few as they are, we thought it appropriate to schedule a meeting sooner rather than later. First off, I think it may be appropriate to have a candid discussion about the capabilities of Cure’s talent. I believe there was mention of some cosmetic services you’ve been offering?”

“Yes, ma’am. The cosmetic work I’m doing ranges from simple color alterations of the mane, tail, wings, or a pony’s coat to more significant changes like skin smoothing, fat redistribution, dental work, vision correction, and, as part of a comprehensive package, the elimination of some effects of aging such as arthritis, hair loss or thinning, muscle and bone weakness, and any other issue I detect when scanning a new patient.”

The doctor manages her reaction fairly well; the only signs of surprise are her eyebrows slowly climbing up towards her maneline and ears turned fully forward. Mrs. Hire is a little easier to read, though, with huge wide eyes and her mouth hanging slightly open. Gale, typically excitable under normal conditions, has all the classic wide-eyed shock signs, plus her wings are sticking nearly straight up.

Ignoring their reactions for the moment, Cure continues, “My only major limitation is the fact that I’m only eight years old and, prior to getting my cutie mark, never actively used magic before. For some procedures, like the comprehensive one, I simply do not have enough magic to do everything at once.

“Horns aren’t very large though… typically a little under twenty centimeters long and three to five centimeters in diameter, so I should have plenty of magic to fix those. Wings, I’m not sure… they’re physically large, but don’t have a lot of mass. If I just healed the structures and let the feathers grow in I should be able to fix one over a visit or two as long as the pony has enough extra mass for it.

“Of course, my main concern is protecting my identity. I’m worried how many ponies will show up at my house begging for me to heal them or approaching me while I’m on my way to school or at another job. I don’t know if you heard, but I had about thirty pegasi show up at my house about three weeks back when I first started doing the cosmetic thing.”

“I did!” Gale shouts, drawing everypony’s attention. “Everypony was talking about some filly that had her feathers done up like a bird or a griffon! That was you?!”

“Hear that sport? Yer famous!” Deed cheers, poking Cure with a hoof.

“Oof, I hope not,” he says to his sire before turning back to Gale. “Yeah, probably. I went to a sleepover on the night of the Running of the Leaves. The next morning we were hanging out and I mentioned doing cosmetic things. She asked for an example so I copied the design that bluebirds have, just in her colors. Was that what you heard?”

“Yep! Wow, I can’t believe I didn’t realize that was your work. I guess I should have; that was the same day you started working here, right?”

“Sure was. You’ve probably seen some bat ponies too. I’ve been giving them nictitating membranes to help see better during the day and a few have made appointments to get wing designs done too.”

“Oh wow! Yeah… you’ve been busy, haven’t you, Cure?” she asks with a big smile. Cure can’t help but smile back at the adorable mare. She doesn’t seem to be consciously aware, but she’s slowly flapping her wings in excitement. It’s not enough for her to get off the ground, but she’s easily the most expressive pegasus Cure’s encountered so far.

“Yes ma’am. That’s why I sent that note to change my pay status. I’ve been making enough bits from that stuff that I don’t need money for healing. I’d rather just volunteer my time for that.”

“That is so kind of you!” Turning to Mrs. Hire she claps her hooves and shouts, “Don’t you just wanna squeeze the daylights outta him?!”

Thankfully, the older mare is too busy giggling at Gale’s reactions to hop over the table. Clearing her throat, Dr. Care gets everypony’s attention. “I believe we may have gotten slightly off topic,” she says, giving Gale an exasperated look and getting a pout in return.

With a sigh she turns back to Cure. “It sounds to me like, at least in theory, you may be capable of helping patients. Obviously there’s a process with new medical treatments, though. The problem is that the process isn’t designed with cutie mark related special talents in mind. Fortunately, there is an alternative option available.”

At the round of questioning looks she continues, “Essentially, we can seek out volunteers for the procedure. With the proper oversight from a qualified surgeon and all of the typical medical waivers in place we could begin testing-”

“Oh enough of this crap, Mending. I’ll write out a waiver and we’ll do it right now,” Hire blurts out with a glare. Turning to face the family, all of whom are somewhat in shock, she explains, “I’ve had this useless horn on my head my entire life. I can barely lift anything and I’ll never be able to cast a spell.

“I started working in the medical field specifically in the hopes that some day somepony like this young stallion would come along with a miracle.” Tearing up, she finishes, “If it doesn’t work then I’m no worse off, but if it does… son, I …” pausing, the mare begins crying. Reaching into her bag while Gale wraps her in a hug from behind, she pulls out a pack of tissues, wipes her face, and blows her nose.

Even the doctor, who has been almost robotic to this point, looks on with sympathy for the mare. With a nod, she reaches in her bag and pulls out a form, sliding it to Hire with a quill and ink bottle. “I figured when you insisted on coming. Fortunately, I came prepared.” Turning back to the family she shrugs and adds, “If you’re willing to try, Cure…”

“Sure. Dad, can you pass me the crystal?”

Deed already has the crystal in hoof and is holding it out. “Right here, champ. I figured that’s what was comin next.”

“Thanks, pa. Mrs. Hire?” he calls, getting her attention, “My special talent has a diagnostic part to it, of course, do you understand?”

The mare nods, still wiping tears from her eyes and, uncaring for decorum, Cure hops up on the table and sits in front of her on his haunches. She latches on as soon as he holds out his hoof. Cure raises a questioning eyebrow to the doctor who is, he assumes, casting some kind of diagnostic spell to monitor what he’s doing. Once she nods he begins his scan.

Diving into his mark the problem is easily identified. Not only are the muscles in her horn deformed, but several are outright missing. The nervous system is in similar disarray to the point where Cure’s amazed the horn works at all. Struggling to maintain his composure in the face of the crying mare, he lets go of her hoof.

The vast majority of her mitochondria are the unicorn type, so Cure doesn’t do anything to alter that. If she’s gotten by this long without a stronger TK field then that will likely be noticed if he alters it.

He projects two images; one is a typical horn, specifically Violet Jewel’s, then Perfect Hire’s beside it. In order to show the difference between a functional horn and hers he has the illusion fade the keratin outer structure away to display a cross-section diagram of the muscles and nerves, varying opacity on the outer layers at different points and highlighting sections that should correspond to each other.

With an impressed nod from Dr. Care he slides the crystal back to his sire and turns to Perfect Hire.

“There’s only one way to fix your horn, Mrs. Hire,” he says, getting a pleading look in return. Sat on his haunches, he gives her the pouty pony eyes and holds his forelegs out wide. A barked out laugh escapes the older mare who happily wraps him in a hug. “That’s the ticket, ma’am. Just a moment now,” he softly says, holding the mare tight and snuggling into her shoulder.

Diving back into his mark, Cure works much more slowly than normal with the assumption that Dr. Care is watching what he’s doing. The fix, which would normally only take about a minute, drags out over a five minute long hug, during which Cure slowly fixes what’s there while using excess fat stores to build the muscle and nerves that are missing.

Unwilling to show that he can alter or improve a horn beyond typical, Cure uses the scans from Violet as a blueprint to give Hire a normal, but fully functional horn.

Smiling into her shoulder he gives her one last squeeze, tells her it’s done, and releases the mare from the hug. “I think that was a pretty good hug, Mrs. Hire. Now lemme get outta your way so you can test that lil lady out, okay?” he asks, walking back across the table to take his seat.

As soon as he’s sitting again, Vines scoots behind him and wraps him in a hug, planting a big kiss right between his ears. Cure’s not sure which is warmer; the proud hug from his dam or the joyful heat he can feel in his chest.

Looking to Dr. Care for guidance, Hire raises a questioning brow. “Is it okay? Is it fixed?” she asks, barely holding back tears.

Dr. Care cuts power to her horn and, with a slow nod, explains, “As best I can tell, yes. He just… Well, he basically just rebuilt your whole horn, at least on the inside. I can’t think of any reason why it wouldn’t work fine. Maybe we should try outside, though, just to be safe.”

“The back door is right outside and to the left. We could go test it right now,” Gale offers.

“It’ll work fine,” Cure insists. Tossing his saddle bags onto the table he waves at them saying, “Here, just lift my bags. Just start slow, please, I don’t know when the rodeo will be back to get another set.”

Getting a go-ahead wave from Dr. Care, Hire lights up her horn, choking back a sob when her aura surrounds Cure’s bag and easily lifts them in the air. Quickly setting the bag back down, she turns and latches onto Gale; the two holding each other and crying tears of happiness together.

Dr. Care reaches over and, with a relieved smile, gently pets Hire’s withers. “I do believe that was an adequate demonstration, Cure. Well done.”

“Thanks, ma’am. There was a lot to fix, unfortunately. Mrs. Hire, you may wanna eat a little extra at lunch if you feel hungrier than normal today. I did use a little fat to do all that.”

“Maybe we should take a moment to refresh ourselves?” Dr. Care suggests.

Gale, still wrapped up by the older unicorn, poofs her wings out while shouting “Oh! I came prepared!” Giving Hire a couple taps, she finally wiggles free, then shoots out the room.

Hire takes a moment to wipe her face, pulling several more tissues out of her bag while thanking Cure profusely.

Fortunately, Gale shoots back in the room only a few seconds later, standing on her rear legs and proudly holding up a two liter jug of apple juice and, somewhat to Cure’s dismay, a big box of donuts.

After scrounging up some cups and having a second breakfast, the seven ponies are fed, watered (juiced), and ready to resume their discussion.

“So, like I said, my main concern is my privacy,” Cure explains while waving a hoof back and forth. “I don’t need credit, I don’t need recognition, I don’t even need the bits if my cosmetic business continues to succeed. I just need to know that I can have some degree of a normal life when I’m not at work, ya know?”

“That’s completely reasonable, Cure,” Dr. Care says. “Given your talent, I can certainly understand why you’d be concerned about being approached outside of work.”

“Definitely,” Hire agrees, “I don’t know if I could have held myself back from showing up at your house if I’d known weeks ago you could do that. I can’t even imagine if my son or one of my daughters had been born with the same condition.”

“What if he just changes his colors when you have somepony that needs him?” Title suggests.

“That may work… also, he could wear an assistant’s gown, even though there will be no invasive operation going on,” Dr. Care points out.

“I could also wear a fake horn or fake wings. I made a very convincing set of wings out of branches and leaves for my fillyfriend on Nightmare Night. She’s a unicorn, so… ya know… princess of fire.”

“Oh! I heard about little Dawn’s outfit!” Gale gushes, “Stars I would have loved to have seen it!”

With a shrug, Cure changes his coat to match the colors and adds the bioluminescence, though he doesn’t change anything else. “It looked like this but with wings and a horn,” he explains, lighting up and bathing the room in red, orange, and yellow. His parents had, of course, seen the wings when he was growing them, but the three mares are left temporarily speechless at the display.

“Wow. That’s… quite the costume,” Gale notes, watching in fascination as Cure goes back to his normal appearance. “I noticed your cutie mark was still present… you can’t change that?”

“No. As far as I can tell that can’t be changed. It can be covered, but not by a part of me or it comes through.”

“Well,” Dr. Care starts, “that would be covered by the surgical gown anyhow. I doubt anypony would be able to recognize a foal’s voice. With all the cleaners in the room and the gown in the way they shouldn’t get your scent either, so even if you walked past them on the street they wouldn’t recognize you. I think adding a horn or wings to the disguise would be fine until you grow up at least.”

“Eh, when I’m older, hiding won’t be quite as important then. I’m just worried about ponies going nuts now while I’m still trying to have some semblance of a foalhood.”

“True. I believe we can facilitate that, then. I, or another doctor, will be listed as the primary surgeon. We’ll have ponies sign a waiver acknowledging that they are participating in a medical treatment evaluation, just as we normally would. That will release you from liability. The only ponies that will know your name will be the surgeon and, of course, the board of directors. Anypony else will be told that you’re a medical consultant and to ignore your presence.”

“That sounds like it should work, right, Cure?” Title asks.

“Sounds pretty good to me, sport. You’ll finally get ta heal ponies and not hafta worry ‘bout them showin up at home.”

“Yeah, what do you think, dam? Does that sound good?”

“I don’t see any issue, honey. As long as they can ensure your safety, that’s all I’m worried about.”

“Ah!” Cure calls with a clap. “I just thought of something! Griffons!”

“Uhh… what about ‘em, son?”

“Mom said there’s a small community of griffons over in Baltimare,” turning to the three hospital workers he asks, “Is that right?”

Perfect Hire is the first to answer. “There’s probably about a thousand of them, give or take, between the coast and the cloud district. Mostly the coast, though.” Hesitantly she asks, “Why? Have you had a bad experience with griffons?”

“No, that’s the problem. I’ve had no experience with griffons. I was able to fix your horn because I’ve seen healthy ones and knew what it should look like. There may be some things I can’t fix without scans from a typical healthy example. I should be able to help them if they’re sick or something like that either way, I suppose… unless their biology is quite a bit different from ours.”

“It isn’t. We’re shockingly similar, in fact, even down to blood types. Ponies, Zebras, Saddle Arabians, Minotaurs, Diamond Dogs, Griffons, Abyssinians, Yaks… even Dragons to a degree, which you wouldn’t expect given our different morphologies. It’s fascinating really how similar many of the creatures of the world are, even down to cross-” Dr. Care cuts herself off when she realizes she’s gone off on a tangent.

“Ahem. Yes, anyhow… I don’t think that’ll be an issue either way,” Dr. Care continues, “We’ll probably only have you come in to help with things that we have no way of doing.” Nodding to Hire she continues, “Horn issues, regrowing missing limbs… stuff like that. By the time we have a griffon, or other creature, volunteer I’m sure you’ll have the opportunity to see a healthy one. We’ll make sure of it,” she finishes with a nod.

“Great! I’ve only used my talent on ponies so far, so I have no clue what the rest of those should be like. Huh… ya know, I bet dragons would probably love the cosmetic work I’m doing,” he idly thinks aloud while scratching at his chin.

Title taps Deed who looks at her. Waving at Cure she quickly jabs a hoof out, getting a nod from the stallion who then reaches over and pokes Cure in the side, pulling him out of thought.

“Ah! Oh, sorry. I was just thinkin I could make their scales shine like gemstones and they’d probably friggin love that. Do dragons pay well?”

“Focus, Cure. Jeez…” Title complains, getting a few chuckles from everypony else.

“Right, right. Sorry. Where were we?”

“I think we were trying to determine if you’re part dragon yourself, Cure,” Gale teases. “I can see you with your very own hoard someday,” she adds with a big smile.

“That does sound nice,” he agrees, slowly nodding his head in consideration. “So… where do we go from here?”

“Well, I think we have a plan, roughly, of how we’ll do this, so the next step will be to find volunteers. We can solicit ponies we know, then reach out to clinics and hospitals in the surrounding area,” Dr. Care suggests. “I don’t know exact figures, but somewhere around twelve percent of the population has some kind of disability. I’m assuming we’ll need to start with ones that should require less magic to correct.”

“Definitely,” Cure vehemently agrees. “I have only had my cutie mark for two months. I probably have, and I’m not exaggerating, somewhere around one one-hundredth as much magic as an adult unicorn like you. Likely less.”

“Ah… true. That will change when you turn ten, though. If you’re using your magic up every day then by the time you’re an adult I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“I am. Several times a day, usually. Especially if I have a lot of appointments.”

“That’ll do it. If you’ve gotten used to that lethargic feeling to the point where it doesn’t bother you then, by the time you’re twelve, you’ll probably surpass most unicorns. Magic pool growth slows dramatically between sixteen and eighteen.

“Very few ponies regularly use all of their magic up, and for those that have their mark early from ten to thirteen is a key time. Use as much magic as you can every day without making yourself sick and you’ll be an absolute powerhouse.

“I have to admit,” she adds, “I’m curious what an earth pony with large magic stores can do. Even with passive magic use you all are so strong it’s ridiculous. Be careful you don’t accidently hurt anypony, Cure.”

“You bet, doc. I appreciate you all coming to meet today. I’m very excited to be able to actually help ponies, so I’m really looking forward to this.”

Author's Note

Alright, I have one more shorter-ish chapter that I'll try to get out tomorrow, then a longer one Friday.