Twilight Sparkle, M.D.
Ponyville Hospital, Day 20, early evening

There’s another advantage to documenting everything, I find out soon enough. Granted, one that involves me being unbearably stupid and doing something I never set out to do in the first place, but an advantage nonetheless.

The Twilight Sparkle I’ve trained myself to be all my life would’ve walked straight into the waiting room, called out the next patient, and forgotten everything from there. Fake it ‘till you make it, the job comes first, do no harm, that sort of thing. But somehow, as if something else is possessing my body, I find myself in my office, grabbing the first thing I see--Redheart’s journal. Then, I rush through room after room in search of the director.

It’s probably going to be a regular meeting, I try to tell myself. They’ve done this all week. She’s been coached through it by now, and she made sure to talk to the Cloudsdale police the last few times, so she has backup.

An image briefly flashes through my head of Doctor Redheart gagged and chained, helpless as Glimmer runs one of her twisted IVs through her. Giving Redheart the Cutie Pox pills the normal way would just open up a chance for her to scream or spit them out, after all. I blink hard and force my way out of the vision, trying not to think of how much the idea makes me want to scream.

It’s just Fluttershy’s magical filly mangas, the logical side of me explains. Villains don’t act like that in this world. Doctor Glimmer has too much at stake to pull something like that, anyway. So if you keep thinking like this, there’s no way you can beat her.

After several seconds of urging myself to pull it together, I trot into the director’s room, place the journal on his desk, and watch as he reads. He’s so unlike Director Celestia, so reclusive, that I can barely even remember his name right now. Or it could be the stress I’m in now. Either way.

To be fair, he isn’t completely in the dark about this. While Redheart and I have been keeping our operation secret from the other employees, we’ve given him pretty consistent updates about the Featherfall affair. To everypony else, I’ve just been helping Redheart out and getting her back to her normal self after her past failures, and it’s a solid alibi. Logically, she still has a long way to go, but her improved services, plus her investigations, have landed her solidly in the middle of the preliminary list. Still not her best, but hopefully, still good enough to convince the director to let her stay.

Or, at least, it would be if he didn’t just find out she signed a deal with Featherfall.

“She’s going to work for them?” he asks, far more confused than angered. “Even after everything she uncovered? I mean, I pegged her as a loose cannon the minute she continued her degree after the rest of her family quit, but--”

“It’s a trick,” I explain. “She thinks that doing it will get more information out of Doctor Glimmer, and the whole thing will go down by the time Featherfall tries to make good on it. But I have a bad feeling that doing this is just going to put her in more danger than it’s worth.”

There’s an inexplicable part of me who wants to throw this fact straight in his face and pin the blame straight on him. If he, or whatever idiot decided to use this outdated rank-and-yank system in the first place, thought for one moment nopony would pull a scheme like this to keep their job, then he would deserve every bit of it. Heck, I’d probably deserve a bit of it myself for pushing Redheart into this, but as soon as the thought enters my mind, I will the guilt straight out. That’s something that can be saved for another time.

So is confronting this mystery of a director, who can’t seem to be bothered with us unless there’s an emergency. I get the feeling that the moment I finally suck that information out of him will be the moment I finally leave Ponyville for good.

Yet another fleeting thought, one that would’ve distracted me just three weeks ago, destroyed by my sudden, insane, and raw worry about Redheart. And from there, a wall crashes around my brain.

I feel as if I’m out of my body. An empty shell, with nothing but gears moving inside. Yet somehow, looking into the director’s eyes and addressing him in a way I’d never dared to address Celestia, I’ve never felt more alive.

“Tell the Ponyville Police Department that there’s an emergency in Cloudsdale. We’re going to need backup, both with them and in here.”

It might be an ordinary meeting after all. Redheart might be back another day to pester me. But as we doctors say, do no harm and take no chances.

The director barely has time to look back at me before I go off to do the most daring thing I’ve ever accomplished.

I leave my post to save somepony outside the hospital limits.

Twilight Sparkle, M.D.
Featherfall Clinic, Day 20, early evening

“The next leap will be the leap home.”

For at least a year, that was the last thing I heard before drifting off to sleep. My brother, Shining Armor, was quite the science fiction aficionado--a nerd, even, to those who didn’t know him well--and every night he had the chance, he would sneak over to the radio by my room and listen in. We were both supposed to go to bed at nine o'clock sharp, but somehow, I was never so willing to bend the rules. Even then, I’d always try to pick up on bits and pieces of his old broadcasts, but everything but that was a blur. Even the old show’s name, which made it a lot harder to find it on records once I got old enough to be curious about it.

But somehow, that old phrase still stuck with me, and as I sail through the Cloudsdale skies, it’s the first thing I hear. The type of “leaping” it talks about isn’t really relevant to me, but the message is. It was all I wanted to do once I entered Ponyville: leap home by whatever means possible.

I can’t help but think about how foolish that all was as I float through, watching the clouds as if Dr. Glimmer could shoot me from above. I never remembered anything about the show, but what I could remember was that the message never changed, even hundreds of episodes later. The stallion was still leaping into unknown place after unknown place, path after path, always hoping the next would bring him where he wanted to go. It only figures that I’d be the same way.

Just as I really get into my brooding, however, my senses suddenly sharpen into high alert. The balloon stallion has parked me just outside Featherfall Clinic, just as I asked him to, and yet somehow, I’m still surprised. I try not to show it, though, and take a quick scan of the situation before trotting in.

The area around the clinic is practically an empty hangar, and not a single cop is around. Of course, I wouldn’t expect the forces I’d called in to show up so soon, but I’d figured Redheart’s warning would bring at least a few Cloudsdale spies. On the bright side, this at least means I have some time to stall Glimmer before she A) sees that her sorry excuse for a hospital is surrounded or B) manages to buck anything else up.

Getting in, as usual, is a piece of cake. Judging from the reaction I got last time I came here, my name’s managed to spread to most corners of Equestria. Unlike some ponies I know, I’m smart enough not to take this as an opportunity to gloat and head straight over to Dr. Glimmer’s office, straight ahead on the third floor.

(From my brother’s old video games and Fluttershy’s manga, I’m beginning to get the impression that villains like being on the top floor for no explicable reason. I know thinking of Glimmer as a fantasy villain is probably the last thing I should be doing right now, but in my defense, she sure isn’t helping matters.)

In any case, fantasy villain or not, I’m still tempted to press my ear to the door, and if this wasn’t such a delicate situation, I would’ve shoved that thought away with all the others. From what little I know about cases like this, it’s always good to have surprise on your side, and the longer I can go without Glimmer finding me, the better. I’m not sure just how much Redheart has spilled about our plan--normally, I’d trust her, but I also feel like someone like Dr. Glimmer wouldn’t take that sort of deal without decent collateral--but there’s only one way to find out. Thankfully, my Cloudsdale alter ego was too dumb to install any windows in her office, and for once, I’m grateful for her stupidity.

It’s just enough to give me an opening--until I realize that something is going very, very wrong.

I don’t know much about the times Glimmer has called Redheart up to her office--about as much as Redheart wants me to know--but there are certain things I’ve come to expect of any peer meeting. Silence is not one of them.

As a matter of fact, it’s something that we doctors rarely hear to begin with. Our offices are always filled with some sort of filler noise, whether it’s a complaining patient or a device blipping away. Yet, as I listen in, I can’t even hear a clock tick. Part of me wonders, in fact, if Glimmer already knows I’m here, and the very thought makes my fur stand on end.

Unfortunately, what I hear next only confirms that feeling.

“So that’s why you’re here?” Redheart whispers in between wheezing breaths. “The doctors at your old hospital pulled you out, too?”

No. No. Oh, moon and stars, no!

I barely even have to hear Glimmer speak to know that’s the truth, or at least her version of it. But the way Redheart responds fills in all the gaps. Somehow or another, this disgraceful charlatan dared to not only compare herself to my coworker, but hit her where it hurt most in the process. Everything about this is so obvious, so rehearsed, and yet somehow Redheart’s just going along with it. Forgetting every terrible thing this mare ever did to Cloudsdale, and was about to do to Ponyville.

I shouldn’t care, I tell myself, gritting my teeth so hard they almost go into the wooden door. If she really thinks this pony can do anything for her, it’s her own damn fault for being so naive.

The more I say it, though, the madder I am at Doctor Glimmer. The more I’m able to forgive Redheart and stir the tiny optimistic part of my heart into thinking it’s just another trick. And, to be fair, she doesn’t leave me much doubt on that front. By the time I listen in again, she’s already stopped hyperventilating, moving on to making her companion reveal as much as possible.

I can’t say I remember everything about Doctor Glimmer’s story, because at that point in my mind, all I was thinking about was slapping those crummy fake wings straight off her back. But thankfully, horn-recording was one of the few spells I actually remembered, from the times Shining wanted me to tape his radio shows when he was out on dates.

Anyway, the minute she starts flapping her gums, I knew it was going to be a blur, and so I might as well let my horn do the remembering. From what little I did pick up on, it was a pathetic excuse for the things she’d done, something about her old friend meeting the right ponies, getting a promotion, and being transferred to a different hospital. While I do admit networking opportunities like that aren’t always fair, they sure as hay are more valid indicators of medical prowess than, say, becoming a mad scientist in your spare time. Even then, however, I keep my judgment to myself.

I can only hope that Redheart is doing the same.

At this point in the game, I realize, I don’t even care why I’m worrying so much about her. Whether it’s in-character, out-of-character, as a patient, as a friend, or even as something else. What I know is that she’s heading down a slippery slope, and has been for heaven knows how long.

Maybe that’s why I can’t leap home yet, I tell myself one last time as I let my body slam against the door.

There’s somepony who needs me here.

Twilight Sparkle, M.D.
Featherfall Clinic, Day 20, mid-evening

I know all about you.

Those are the first words I hear after I break the silence. After I crash into Glimmer’s door Faust knows how many times before finally getting in. They’re the ones that make me realize that no matter how aware Doctor Glimmer is of my presence, her attention is still turned towards Redheart.

The Featherfall worker looks straight into my eyes for the slightest of moments, just long enough for her gaze to turn into something else entirely. As she stares back at Redheart, the smile slips straight off her face, and the sparkle in her eyes narrows into darkness.

If I was a more imaginative mare, I’d almost say it was like the slit of a cat’s pupil. Or, perhaps more accurately, like the look somepony would give their prey, and never their peer.

By the time Redheart detected it, it was already too late.

“I know why you came to me,” Doctor Glimmer whispers, already straight on Redheart’s tail. “And this job’s all the sympathy I’m going to give you. You’re the type of pony who deserves a living Tartarus.”

In that moment, I remember one last place I’d seen that sort of glance. In my old biology books, right next to a picture of a cockatrice. With the way my plan unravels right in front of me, she might as well be one. I can barely move, barely speak, until I receive clarification. She couldn’t have known all along, could she?

No response. I can say many things about Doctor Glimmer, but I will say the mare knows how to milk the moment for everything it’s worth. Redheart’s every bit as still as I am, refusing to acknowledge my presence, almost as if both of us are frozen in time. No, almost as if we’re frozen in separate worlds.

Either way, I can’t let this emotional whiplash get the better of me any longer. I’ve stood idly by far too many times today, and I finally find myself speaking out. Once again, I feel as though I’m outside of my own body, but this time, I embrace it.

“I heard there was something going on here,” I say, trying to keep my voice as level as possible. After all, I’m really not supposed to know about any of this. “What were you talking about just now?”

For once, Starlight Glimmer’s glance is utterly indecipherable. Her ponytail whips around, as if she’d just now noticed me. For a few brief seconds, I can’t help but wonder if that’s the truth, or if this whole thing was staged.

Fortunately, she isn’t the best at keeping to herself when it comes to these sorts of things. She puts her saccharine mask on again, the one that makes me cringe even more than her real face, and trots straight towards me.

“Oh, I was just helping your competitor out of her unfortunate situation,” she whispers. “I’m afraid she was under the mistaken impression that she could just leave her Ponyville job behind and come here. But I’m afraid a prestigious clinic like this one doesn’t quite work that way.”

Prestigious clinic, my ass, I almost say, nearly ruining our plan. Yet when I turn to face Redheart, I already know similar thoughts are swirling through her head. She shoots me the universally accepted “can you believe this flankhole” face and gestures for me to speak. What she doesn’t realize is that it takes me about a minute just to come up with something civil enough to say in a situation like this.

In the end, I settle on telling an abridged version of the truth, one that neither implicates me nor makes me seem completely oblivious.

“She did tell me about her plans to come here earlier, but I was under the impression that she’d already gotten the job.”

“What, and completely ruin this hospital’s publicity in the process?” Glimmer responds, her chuckle still eerily, sickeningly sweet. “Believe me, I do thorough background checks on everypony this place hires. Even more thorough than Pony Resources does, I’d even say.”

I swear, this mare has absolutely no concept of irony. Just as I’m about to tell her this, though, I swear I can see a shadow covering the upper part of her face as she stares straight into her eyes.

“I think you and I both know Redheart’s secret pretty well, don’t we? There’s one of them in every hospital, after all. That one pony who just won’t. Go. Away. And of course, it’s not like they can, even if they wanted to. They’re the perfect family heirs, spread out throughout Equestria to make sure all the hospitals have their perfect little monarchies. So I figured, since I had her on my side and all, I might as humiliate her a bit. Make sure she knows what it’s like to be abandoned by the system.”

Every word makes me feel like my mane’s about to fall off my head. Out of all the things I’d expected her to pull, this is probably the last thing I considered. But somehow, she knows our weaknesses--or at least Redheart’s--and I realize now that she’d prefer to use that as leverage and get the other information later.

I can see a white-and-pink blob out of the corner of my eye, but I don’t dare to look. Somehow, the idea of seeing Redheart broken scares me even more than it did when I started the operation. But, yet again, I don’t brood on it.

Save ponies first. Sort out feelings later.

“Do you even realize,” I say through gritted teeth, “that you’re saying all this to her face? Even if you say you don’t care about her feelings, she could still use it against you.”

“She’s fulfilled her purpose. And shouldn’t you be glad? By leaving her on the curb, you won’t have any competition from here to Canterlot.”

I should be telling her how I really feel about this whole thing. About just how twisted I’ve come to find this whole idea of doctors as competitors. Yet somehow, I can’t help but snag on the tiniest detail, one I know could turn the case in my favor.

“You wouldn’t be my competitor in this plan,” I whisper, letting accusation finally pierce my voice, “would you?”

Doctor Glimmer gives me an impressed grin, the sort I’d seen on Director Celestia a million times, and presses her hoof against my leg. I swear, I can feel the hives forming even now.

“Of course not. I knew all I had to do was lead one of your coworkers here, and you’d come eventually. You see, your whole story’s been around Equestria and back. The most promising young doctor of her time, sent off to some small town practice so she couldn’t threaten the higher-ups too much. What I mean to say is...I’ve been there, too. They always say it’s bedside manner, or accuse us of patient mistreatment, but it’s really something else, isn’t it? They’re afraid of what we can do, the way we can change everything. But with you, we can beat them for good.”

I can barely comprehend what’s happening in front of me, the way she’s daring to justify herself. All this time, it’s been little more than a game to her, and all I can do is compare herself to Perfumer Cassia. The old one, at least, before Rose cut her down to size.

I hate myself for bringing up Fluttershy’s magical filly manga yet again, but for once, it actually comes true. Or, to be more precise, this world’s Rose still manages to cut her down to size.

I see it unfold in front of me like slides from an old projector. Redheart going under Glimmer's desk. Pulling her medical bag out, the one she’s hid all this time. Scrambling through it until she finds the two perfect items for her plan. Loading a hypodermic needle with equine tranquilizer.

And stabbing it straight into Doctor Glimmer’s flank.

“I understand this is highly unethical,” she says as she does it, “but I don’t think you really have the right to complain about that.”

I swear to Faust, the only thing keeping me from laughing right now is the way my jaw hangs straight to the ground.

“You...tricked me,” Glimmer groans. “Just what the hay do you think you’re trying to pull?!”

Rather than the broken look I expect, Redheart stares straight down at Starlight and shows no mercy.

“Again, I don’t think you’re allowed to complain about that. And about what I’m pulling--I’m just making sure doctors like you don’t enter the system anymore. You know, the ones who actually do endanger lives and blame ponies like me for ruining the industry. So the police should be coming in an hour or so, and since I swooped in to save the day, I’ll probably get to work in a hospital that’s still open tomorrow. Then they’ll confiscate your pills and study them for a few years until they come to a consensus that cutie mark deficiency never existed, and that you never should’ve left medical school.”

I’ve never been more impressed with her. Even though, deep down, I can still see the dried tears streaking her fur. Even though I know that tomorrow, I might just have deeper wounds to heal.

The thoughts I have now are still the only things on my mind, and they’re about as far from our professional relationship as it can get. They just might be enough to risk everything for, even.

I officially love this mare, I finally tell myself.

And for once, as the stars soar all around the Cloudsdale skies, I might actually mean it.

Author's Notes:

I figured I might as well have an "Olympic-sounding" title for today's part, considering recent events. This is the longest part I've ever written for this series, and I feel like the next is going to start a whole new arc. I just don't want to spoil too much yet. What matters is that, for once, I was actually able to wrap up a villain arc in just a few parts for once unlike a certain other series we know.

Also, concerning the Quantum Leap references in this chapter: IDW's already referenced it with Shining Armor, I really like the seasons I've seen of it, so I figured I might as well go for it.