In the confines of a white-walled ward a pegasus mare waited, her only company being a struggling stallion in the opposite bed, tended to by a reluctant nurse who dodged his flailing limbs with practiced ease. She attached a plastic muzzle to his face to cut off his complaints before she jabbed a needle into his neck; he fell asleep almost instantly, or as close as was possible. The pegasus herself whimpered but otherwise lay still with her hooves over her ears, waiting for the moment when she could at last have some sane company.

She didn't have to hold out for long. Within a matter of minutes, the sole door to the white-walled ward opened without even a squeak.

A unicorn stepped inside, briskly trod over to her and paused at her side with an exasperated expression covering his face.

"Well, good morning, Bleu Celeste," he said as he levitated a small clipboard up to his face. He scanned it quickly and moved it out of his vision before he looked down at her with a scowl. He then reached forwards, fiddled about with her feathers a little and floated a thermometer over, forcing it underneath her tongue. He removed it a second later, grunted quietly and smiled—though it was truthfully perhaps more of a grimace. He spared a glance to his colleague before he then said, "The nurse says you can understand simple Equestrian now, yes?"

She nodded slowly and shifted about a little in her bed. "Please just call me Blue. Bleu Celeste... It's so fancy." She giggled a little before she noticed the doctor's scowl and blushed. "Oh, right. Yes, I can understand some." Her blush only grew and she was quick to look down at the clipboard. A frown graced her face as she did so; the symbols plastered across the page made absolutely no sense to her. "Can I... Can I leave now?"

The doctor gave a snort before he pulled a chair over and sat down next to her. "Yes, Miss Celeste. Once you've been briefed, anyway.” He hovered the clipboard back to his side, flicked to the third page and then held it in front of the her. Somewhat crudely drawn sketches of ponies could be seen, with yet more of the odd symbols beneath them. "Now you, Miss Celeste, are what we call a part-amnesiac." Levitating a pencil from behind his ear, the doctor tapped one of the sketches as he continued. "That means that, when you got infected with Pastromorbo Nostrae—the Plague—you fell into a coma like everypony else. When you woke from that coma a few weeks ago, you had forgotten all of your past life. But there's hope for you. With the right... encouragement, it's not unheard of for part amnesiacs to remember their lives."

Blue frowned and fidgeted a little more. "Well, sure. I know that already, doctor."

The stallion chuckled with dull, cold eyes before he hovered his pencil away from the clipboard slightly. "Yes, I know you do. But I’ve got to tell you to be careful. If you remember too much at once your brain could be overwhelmed and, just like that, there’ll be no more miss Bleu Celeste—and part-amnesiacs are hard to come by, so don’t go and kill yourself. Your sort is important to facilities; you’re a valuable mare, got it?” Blue scowled slightly but nodded slowly nevertheless, rustling her feathers in indignation. The doctor let out a sigh and shifted about before he continued. “Anyway, I am required to cover everything before releasing you. Don't want to see you back in here wondering what in Tartarus is wrong with everypony."

Blue scrunched up her muzzle, her displeasure still on her face. "Tarta-"

"Oh, don't worry." The stallion narrowed his eyes and tapped the image again. His ears flattened slightly. "Now, don't interrupt me again; I've got a job to do. On which note, these—" he pressed the pencil to a different sketch, "—are what ponies refer to as Mad'uns. Like you, they fell into a coma, but awoke from it with no grasp on rationality at all. Kind of like your friend over there." The doctor nodded to the struggling stallion and hissed at the sight. "Mad'uns are, basically, insane. They'll kill you as soon as look at you, but they're normally kept down in the basement. You won't be finding any in the main facility, rest assured.

"Next up, there's the mutants." He tapped a different picture once again, this time a pretty young mare with claws in place of hooves. "Pretty self-explanatory, really. Watch out for them; they're safe, but can easily descend into madness. It's best to steer clear when possible, though we do keep an eye on them when they’re here.

"Other than that, there's only a few types of ponies left: the normal amnesiacs, who are similar to you but have no hope of remembering things; there are those who lose senses—like myself, for example, 'cos I can't smell a damn thing; then there's the lucky buggers who are immune. Of course, they're not so lucky when everypony hates them. Jealous. Oh, and there's those who just die outright. Best way to go, really; they don't know a thing."

Blue let out a breath, suddenly aware of how dry her throat was. She rolled over slowly and took a quick sip of water before she returned her attention to the doctor. "That's not overly nice," she whispered as her ears fell.

The stallion only gave an explosive laugh. "The whole world isn't nice any more, little miss. On which note, ponies probably won't like you, either; you have a chance of recovering, to an extent, after all." The stallion quietened sat still for a few seconds before he stood and pushed the chair away. Returning the clipboard to her bedside table, he grunted quietly. "You're lucky you're in here, you know. The outside world… It's a dangerous place."

Her ears perked up and she leaned forwards, grey eyes focused on the doctor. "How so?"

"No more questions. I've got work to do." The doctor narrowed his eyes at her before his horn lit up. A second later, before she'd even had chance to react, a harsh needle had jabbed itself into her unmarked flank. A syringe of blood was drawn before it was then removed and floated away. She yelped and then screamed. The doctor only rolled his eyes and stuck a small wad of cotton onto the wound with a tiny strip of tape. "Celestia, you are a pathetic one, aren't you?"

Receiving no response, the doctor shrugged and walked out slowly, the syringe held at his side closely. He opened the door and prepared to step out. A second later, he was almost barrelled over when a second unicorn, somewhat smaller, careened into the ward. He stampeded over to Blue’s bed, skidded to a stop and waited with baited breath, eyes wide.

"Hey, hey!" he whispered whilst he nuzzled her chin, but she continued to writhe and squirm. As he stroked her forelock, however, she began to calm slightly; with a grin he then grunted and levitated her out of the bed, giving a short “oomph” when he placed her down on his back. At the same moment, a young stallion stampeded in after him, a white hat with a red cross on his head; a nurse’s hat. He shouted loudly at the larger stallion to think about what he was doing; the latter paid absolutely no attention when he instead said to Blue, "Come on, you. I'll show you around."

Blue frowned as she finally settled and relaxed with her head nestled into the stallion's deep-blue mane. She took a few deep breaths and then spoke quietly. "Um... Who are you?"

The stallion stiffened and paused in his walk mid stride. He then hung his head slightly and glanced back, giving her a watery grin. "I'm... RipEar. My name's RipEar. I'm a friend." He turned his attention back to the door and walked over briskly. "Now, shush. I'll look after you in this mad place. You've got my word."

Blue paused before she sighed and a small smile graced her lips. Perhaps she was being silly to trust this pony, but he seemed nice—and something about his smell was familiar.

She stiffened a little on the stallion’s back and her eyes went wide. For some reason, the rich smell flooded every one of her thoughts, made her vision blur as she breathed it in deeply. It filled her lungs and warmed her inside, making her let out a sigh despite her blackening vision. And then, when she lost all sight from her eyes and let them slide shut, she felt her body slip from RipEar’s. She landed on the floor with a thud and winced, though the pain that should have come did not; she could hear the stallion’s gasped cry of “Blue!” and yet did not register the terror which rung true.

And then the blissful feeling ended. Her breath caught in her throat as her body was shaken, but she was incapable of pushing the force away. Her body slumped and she opened her mouth in a scream but could hear no noise; the cold linoleum cracked beneath her before it wrapped itself around her frame and seeped through her skin. No matter how much she thrashed she could not escape the icy grip. The linoleum fell into her open mouth and blocked her throat as her stomach and lungs froze up, flooded with charcoal and tar. She spluttered and coughed as the final dot of light disappeared from her eyes.

And then, in a flash, she could see everything again. Her mind burned and she heaved, the need to vomit overwhelming yet impossible. She could only watch and pant as the scenes before her eyes morphed into a horrifying reel of images: a young colt lunged at her with a foam sword; a trio of pegasi zipped overhead with a crackling trail behind them as the young colt laughed and clapped; a towering mare nudged her side heavily and threw her to her stomach so that she fell atop the colt’s back. Each flash lasted a mere moment, hardly time to comprehend anything that went on. And yet it seemed to last a lifetime, each frame making her burning heart pound heavier—until finally, at the fleeting and blurred sight of a full-grown stallion yelling at her with tears streaming down his face, she felt her breaths come to an abrupt halt and the images slowly faded away.