A Fallen Angel

Criss's new room blew his expectations away.

It was great.

Sure, it was a little hospital room with two beds, one window, and only one bathroom for two ponies, but the other bed was empty, so if Marshall and Krystal wanted, they could sleep here for the night, and do what they needed in the morning. It's not like Criss'd be gaining more time with Krystal; she always slept on the chair by his bed, or right next to him in his bed. But it'd be nice for her to sleep by herself, instead of having to sleep in a chair, or on top of somepony's bony arm.

That, and they had a window overlooking a small park. Marshall worried that it might make Criss a bit depressed about not being able to walk, but Criss was content with looking at the statue in the center of the pond. A brave pony in Guard armor with her blade pointed to the hospital. It was a statue of a soldier who'd fought monsters, actual ones, to help two medicinally trained druid-ponies build a house. Right where the hospital was now.

Criss had always headed to that very park whenever Train had done something to him. Now his father had beaten him to near-death, almost broke his friends hearts, and sold him. And Criss couldn't get to his park before he left.

Life sucked.

It wasn't that bad, though. Marshall was looking over the room. "Hey, dude, didn't know if you saw, but there's a hand-mirror on your bedside."

Finally.

Although Criss trusted Marshall's word, he had been a bit sore about not being able to see if he had any scars. Criss picked up the mirror, braced for a scare, and for the first time in a while, had been able to see what he looked like.

Criss gazed at himself. First thing he noticed was the hospital must have shaved his hair down for the surgery. Instead of his black "Emo-cut" he had been teased about at school, he had a shaved head. Great, I look like a jock. If Criss had known about those ponies addicted to drugs, he would've said he looked like that; His wiry, extremely skinny, semi-muscular form had come from many fights, and twice as many "flights".

It didn't help he usually had to wait till he was at Marshalls place to get a good meal. His grey coat didn't have any patches missing like it normally did after a beating, but his wings were torn up badly, and he had a new, hooflong scar running along the right side of his head. Criss winced. Let's just add that to the collection, shall we?

Finally he set his eyes on his favorite feature. He had her eyes. His mom's royal purple eyes. He hadn't been able to see much of her before she had to go into medi-care, but he could remember, possibly his youngest memory, his mother looking into his face with her bright purple eyes.

I miss you, mom.

One of the biggest things that hurt. He hadn't seen his mother since he was three, and he wouldn't get to before he left.

Oh well...

Criss set the mirror down, and tried to smile. He must've done pretty good, because Marshall bought it.

"See? Told ya you were fine."

"You didn't say they shaved my head." Criss retorted.

"Uh... Didn't seem too relavent?" Marshall chuckled nervously. "Hey, in my defence, there were much bigger fish to fry."

Can't argue 'bout that. "I guess..." Criss wasn't letting him off that easy.

Krystal walked in, carrying a small bag. "Hey, guys, I brought lunch. Good news Criss, doctor says you can handle a few solids, so I brought sandwiches."

Criss's stomache rumbled, reminding him how hungry he was. Looks like Marshall was getting off easy. "Oh, good. I'm starving."

They sat down and had a quick lunch. Krystal told Criss what she had to do for school, then Marshall talked about his work. Marshall had to find a job shortly after kicking out his father. He had decided to try and sign up with the Guard, and luckily the pony interviewing him was a sucker for family ponies trying to make ends meet. It helped Marshall convieniantly couldn't find a babysitter, so he had to take his sister to the interview.

It took until Marshall had finished talking that Criss realised he had nothing to contribute to the conversation. He quickly grasped at straws in an attempt to continue conversation. "Hey Marshall, do you know when they're expected to take me to where ever the hay?"

"Nah. Can't expect it'll be that long though. You're healing pretty quick, like you normally do." Marshall gave a half-hearted laugh.

"Yeah." It sucked that his biggest strength was now his greatest weakness. "Got an estimate?"

"Well," Marshall scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Doc says you'll be able to walk with crutches in a couple of weeks, so 'bout half that. Wouldn't be within the next few days, or they woulda thought it pointless to move you."

Unless they were trying to make me feel safer before taking me.

Criss banished the dark thought quickly. "Yeah, makes sense they'd take me before I could run." He briefly wondered if he would have got the room if his wings hadn't been destroyed. 'Course not Criss, you woulda run. It kind of hurt that his brain had turned on him so candidly, but Criss knew it was true.

A new, but still depressing, thought dawned on him.  "It really sucks I won't get my Cutie Mark before I leave." Maybe I should of accepted Babs' offer. He would've, but Babs had been kind of harsh and flippant to him before. Not that he could blame her, what with what she had been putting up with. Criss had felt bad for her before the same bullies turned on Krystal.

Criss didn't like hurting ponies, but putting those two in the hospital, even if for only minor injuries, had been satisfactory. To say the least.

It had been the wrong decision, and Criss knew it. Marshall would have done much worse, and it would've kept him from having to spend the next three days with an extremely pissed-off drunk. Ponies hadn't been able to recognise him when he checked into the hospital.

Train had come up with a rather clever excuse; he even used a bit of truth. "He fell off our porch."

The nurses didn't believe that, but his neighbours did: Their house had a rather high porch with no safety rails, and was surrounded by those rocks people put around their house.

Besides, it wasn't a lie. Just not the whole truth. There couldn't be much difference between being shoved and falling.

Criss blinked, coming back to what was happening around him. "...mom. Right? ...Criss?"

Criss glanced about, confused as to where conversation had gone. He fell back onto his titanic vocabulary of extremely eloquent words. "...Whuh?"

Marshall shook his head, sighing, and with infinite patience he started over. "'It does suck that you won't get your Cutie Mark, but you can still do other things. You might be able to look around the hospital.' is what I said." Marshall said, and Krystal put in "Then I said that 'That's right, and that you could do other things. Like, the gurney is too big to go into many places, but if you asked real nicely, you might be able to see your mom.'"

"...Wait, we're in Manehatten Main? And nopony said anything?" Criss felt his anger surge.

"You didn't know? Damn, sorry."

"No, I didn't ask." And, if I'm honest, the statue should've given it away. Criss swallowed, and started over. "You think they'd let me use the gurney?" Criss refused to let his hopes get up before they had a chance to get crushed.

"Well, maybe not." Marshall said. "I doubt they'd want to use a gurney as a mode of transport. However," Criss's ears perked up. However was good. "Your wings are better, and aren't so sensitive to the touch, so you may be able to use a wheelchair."

"Or that." Krystal definitely seemed to think this was a better idea than riding around on a gurney.

Criss had to agree. He had to try. He couldn't let this chance slip through his hooves. "Ok, yeah. Let's see if we can do that."

A little while later, Criss was riding around in a wheelchair, being pushed along by Marshall.

Though the guards hadn't been to happy about Criss being mobile, they were willing to accept that he could go around as long as a guard got to follow him. Criss figured it had been a small price to pay for mobility.

So he was now riding down the Manehatten Main Hospital hallway, looking for a hospital room marked 13-C.

"Wait, there!" Criss exclaimed

"Nope, that's a janitors closet."

They'd been looking for a while.

Half an hour later: "Hey, looky here." Criss glanced up to see Marshall pointing ahead and to the right. Criss followed his line of sight, or rather, point, to see the words he'd been looking for. Sort of. "12-C" was etched onto the wood, and highlighted with black paint.

"So thirteen is..." right around the corner.

Upon entering, Criss was greated to a small surprise. It was a single-bed hospital room. Not an intensive care room, but a room outfitted for just one pony. Then Criss remembered it had been by a company funded by the royal sisters that there was a promise on his mothers health.

However, there was something even better than the surprise.

He saw a familiar shape on the bed, and saw a face that looked like it hadn't aged a day; His mother, lying towards him. Pink mane, and grey body, like his, with her eyes shut peacefully, she looked like she was so fragile, a falling feather could have broken her. She was an earth pony. Criss found it so unfair that his DNA took after so much of the pony who repeatedly tried to end his life.

Marshall rolled Criss right up to the bedside. "Do you want me to leave?" He whispered.

Thanks, Marshall. Criss nodded, not wanting to wake his mother.

After the door slowly closed, and as soon as Criss heard the click of the latch in the frame, he burst into tears. He hadn't seen his mother on the day she left; he'd been at school. He also hadn't been allowed to see her, because "What type o' flank-munchin' mule would wanna see an ugly-fucking mug like yours? Besides, your too much've a brat, you'd pro'lly break her heart, seeing what you turned into."

Ah, those good old memories.

"Mom, it's so great to see you again." Criss murmured into the bedsheet.

Just then something unexpected happened.

His mother opened her eyes.

"H-Hello?" She sounds so sick... "Who're you?"

...Oh, right. You're older now, dude.

"M-Mom? It's me. It's Criss."

"...Criss? My Criss? You're so much older... Why didn't you come visit me?"

Oh, fuck. Now what do you say? "I tried, but..." think, man, think... "..but you were always asleep."

Criss wasn't stupid. He knew he was gonna be taken by E-gen, whatever he did. He knew his mother couldn't do anything to stop it: the adoption papers were already filled. He didn't want to upset his mother in his first moment with her since he started going to school by telling her that his father beat him till he couldn't move, or that the school she carefully picked out for him was fillled with sadistic ponies, or tell her he was leaving.

"Oh... sorry." His mother's voice brought him back to his senses.

"No, don't blame yourself, Ma. You need the sleep." Criss had to restrain his resentment, as he realised that, in his first real moment with his mom, he was lieing to her, and defending a moralless pony.

"You've grown so much..." She reached out to touch him, and felt his stitch. She gasped. "What happened to your head?!"

Use the old trick? May as well... "I fell downstairs."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, sweetie..."

"Not your fault, ma. You were in the hospital."

"So.. why are you in a wheel-chair? Same reason?"

"...Yeah..." Criss swallowed, hoping he didn't sound to obvious.

"Sweetie, you were never able to lie to me. I know what happened."

"...You do?" Well, atleast she knew about his father. That was a relie-

"You got into a fight at school, didn't you?"

Criss winced. Of course she doesn't know. "Yeah."

"Cristopher, violence has never been the answer. Didn't I teach you that?"

His heart sank lower.

"Yeah, you did, Mom." Criss felt like crying.

"Well, atleast I taught you something. Try to put it into practice?"

... "I promise, from the moment I leave this room, I will never hurt somepony who doesn't deserve being hurt, or defend somepony who doesn't deserve defending."

"Thanks, squeaky."

"Squeaky."  There was a name he hadn't heard in a long time. His mother used it as a pet name for him.

His father used it as psychological torture every time Criss whimpered when he was being beat.

"No problem, Mom." His voice cracked. Damn.

"Hun? What's wrong?"

After a long silence, Criss responded in a shaky voice. "I just never wanted anypony hurt." His eyes started tearing up against his own will.

"Oh, honey." She reached out and grabbed his head, and for what could be the last time in his life, he cried into his mother's coat.

"There, there..." Damnit, why did she have to be so understanding? Why couldn't she make me feel like I'm hated by everypony? Why'd she have to make it that much harder?

"You know I'll always be there for you."

That broke him.

A small hole opened inside him, and he felt it eating through his insides, stopping at his chest.

He stopped crying immediately. Like his tears had just been turned off.

He pulled back from his mothers embrace. Not fast enough to worry. Slowly, even putting a small smile on to pretend he felt better. Criss didn't want any more questions.

"See, don't you feel better?" She smiled. His first time he could remember seeing her smile, and it couldn't be on a worse occasion.

He tried to fake enthusiasm. He forced the sides of his face up further. "Yeah, I feel... Happy."

No lie had ever been more untrue. He didn't feel anything. Only pain and loss.

Medically, he was so depressed, he was 15 inches from a heart attack.

"Well..." He felt himself tearing up as he tried to sever his last connection to his mother. For the second time in his life. "I best be going. I got a friend waiting outside for me."

"Oh, well maybe you can come back..." She glanced at her clock and Criss saw how late it was. Time sure does fly. "...I guess tomorrow. Then you can tell me about your friends, ok?"

"Yeah, sure mom. See you tomorrow." Atleast he'd see her again, then.

Criss pushed himself to the door and knocked. Loudly. He wanted to be somewhere else. Anywhere else. Even infront of a dragon seemed good right now.

The door opened up, and when Criss rolled himself outside he saw an all too familiar unicorn in a suit and tie waiting on the other end. "Hey kid. The papers just got through. You ready to leave?"

"Anywhere else" but here.