Twilight Sparkle, M.D.
Ponyville Hospital, Day 13, late afternoon

In hindsight, there are multiple ways I failed to think this plan through. Firstly, I failed to properly inform the director that Redheart and I would be out this evening. That, at least, had been easy enough to solve, simply leaving Scootaloo and Rainbow Dash to another few minutes of uninterrupted grief, just long enough to brief my boss on the issue.

As for the second? I’ve been sitting in this accursed hospital room pondering that very thing for ten minutes now. By the time I realized that neither Redheart nor I had easy access to Cloudsdale, my partner in crime fighting had already left. My only comfort in these trying times is that, at the very least, Redheart isn’t brash enough to launch herself out of a cannon, even if doing so would foil a medical racketeering scheme. At least, so I suspect.

In any case, I figure I ought to wait for her to return before making further plans, seeing as fate seems to be pulling us together on this mission. Whatever she’s up to at the moment, it at least buys me time to comfort the patients, explain the problem, and most importantly of all, gain intel as to how this Featherfall Clinic operates. Thankfully, for once, Rainbow Dash is all too willing to cooperate on all three fronts once she figures out the real issues at hoof.

“So you’re sayin’ you can just do it here, for free?” she asks for at least the third time. The first few times, I was too distracted with just about everything else to justify a response, so for once, it’s actually my own fault for not attending to the patient. Then again, the more I think about it, and the more I think about how far this scheme goes, the more I realize Dash may be far less of an idiot than she seems.

Or, at the very least, she’s an idiot who cares. Which, saddening as it is, is still better than a genius who doesn’t.
Either way, she never lets go of her filly, almost as if she’s a tiny plushie that’ll make all her troubles go away. Judging from her companion’s eyes, though, the feeling of comfort is definitely mutual, regardless of how these two came together to begin with.

“Absolutely,” I tell them. “Ponyville Hospital doesn’t see many pegasi with this deficiency, but there were plenty in Canterlot. Thankfully, the treatment isn’t much different than it is for unicorn foals with stunted horn growth, or anypony with low height percentiles. The point is, no matter what, neither of you will have to pay for your conditions, though I would like to ask something from you.”

Both ponies move out of their hug for just long enough to cock their heads to me curiously, like dogs waiting for a command. The desperation’s already beginning to clear up a little in their eyes, but I can sense that fear still has a stronghold in their hearts.

“It’s not gonna be anything too bad, is it, Doc?” Rainbow questions. “I’d kinda prefer to leave this all in the past, if that’s okay with you.”

“I’d like to make sure you can do exactly that,” I reply. “Unfortunately, the only way to guarantee that no other ponies fall into this scam is to hear about it from primary sources.”

Without realizing, I fall into one of my old schooling terms, and the results show ever-so-clearly on Rainbow’s face. She’s more confused than ever, trying to make some sense out of my offer, when the filly finally interjects.

“I’ve had to answer a lot of questions in these places, but I never thought a doctor would actually interrogate me!”

From anypony old enough to have a cutie mark, this would’ve almost come off as an insult, but the little thing’s still young enough to get excited about this plan. Her eyes sparkle with wonder, and she eyes my body as if imagining me in a police uniform. Really, she’s quite adorable when she does it, and I would’ve let her keep staring at me like this forever if she hadn’t suggested that this made Redheart my buddy cop.

“If you’re willing, I’d like to start off by asking how you and Scootaloo, um…”

I curse under my breath as soon as I ask this, realizing how insensitive of a question it might seem. For all I know, they could simply be a couple of close friends, and as much as I hate to admit it, I have no right to pry into any details of their lives other than what Featherfall did to them. Still, Rainbow Dash notices my trailing off and answers before this can get more awkward.

This “good bedside manner” thing is definitely going to have to be something to get used to. Or perhaps I’m just overcorrecting, like I do with everything else.

“It’s pretty complicated. My parents are related to her aunts, and then I guess that’d mean my parents were related to hers. So we’ve pretty much always called ourselves ‘sisters.’”

She blushes for a few moments, an uncharacteristic action for her even at a time like this, and admits, “I guess it isn’t that complicated, then. It...seemed like that when I was a filly, I guess.”

When she finally receives validation that I’m not going to make fun of her for that gaffe, she continues, “Her aunts just moved back to Cloudsdale, and they’d told me they took her to a lot of hospitals where they used to live. None of them knew anything about her trouble, and they hoped I could figure it out. Like they thought I was smarter than them or somethin’. What a laugh, right?

“Anyway, I was just about to get an appointment with a real hospital when I got a flyer for Featherfall. When you go through their system for as long as I did, you almost forget other hospitals aren’t like ‘em. But that’s their whole selling point: they had ponies in street corners shilling them like some specialist place. A place that took on cases the rest of Cloudsdale couldn’t anymore.”

Somewhere in her stream of self-pity, I’m already able to piece together just how these ponies managed to get fooled. As Dash helpfully supplies, most pegasi under their wing were willing to pay as long as they got special services. And to get those special services, the Featherfall Clinic would tell them their foals had exceedingly rare illnesses, tell them that only they can help. A little bit of codependency to help them swallow down their immense medical bills.

The more I listen to her story, the more I realize the doctors there had to know exactly what Scootaloo’s problem was. They also knew their illusion couldn’t hold without a little bit of panic.

Six months without a conclusive diagnosis. Six more months where Rainbow had to become the town laughingstock just to get her sister’s cures. Here I’d been, so annoyed at her, when the real enemy was right under my hooves--or, to be more precise, right above them.

“How many other ‘special treatments’ do they have?” I ask without thinking, too loud to hide my anger at the situation.

If they’re willing to lie about their funds, who’s to say they haven’t gone all the way into quackery?

As Redheart rushes in, that thought strikes my mind like nothing else. It comes through like an Everfree thunderstorm, utterly unpredictable and without anything to give it birth. As Dash speaks, I can already sense that my time is limited, and I can hear the gentle music of a rented hot-air balloon from my window. Redheart, it seems, is one pony that thinks everything through.

Surprisingly enough, in this moment at least, Rainbow Dash is another. She gives me a full list of Featherfall services, and sure enough, most of them are actual maladies. I almost gain an ounce of respect for the clinic for not taking the darkest route until I read the last name on the roster. That’s all it takes for me to find the pony responsible for all this--and who could be responsible for so much more if we don’t act immediately.

Dr. Starlight Glimmer
Pediatrician, Growth and Cutie Mark Deficiency

Twilight Sparkle, M.D.
Featherfall Clinic, Day 13, sunset

“But that doesn’t even exist!” Redheart lectures yet again, her eyes fixed on the roster.

With the way she frets over it, I almost wish Dash had never given it to us. For the entire journey to Cloudsdale, she’s been on an endlessly repeating loop, either telling me that this is not a romantic balloon ride--something I never once thought anyway--or yelling about Featherfall. Which would be all fine and dandy if she didn’t limit her focus to that one particular detail.

“Try telling this Dr. Glimmer that,” I reply. “I have no clue what she’s thinking with the whole cutie mark thing, but just imagine how many ponies would trek up here from Ponyville if they knew about it! Just about every foal in town--in Equestria--worries about getting theirs on time, and now somepony’s figured out a way to channel that into making them her guinea pigs.”

As Redheart stares knowingly at me, I realize that I’ve been fixating on this detail as much as she has. Even then, though, she doesn’t take the chance to gloat, looking back to the sky and letting me cast the walking-on-clouds spell on her.

(Admittedly, if anything good comes out of today, it’s the knowledge that I still remember that spell. Not many ponies believe me when I tell them this, but I never was the best magic student to begin with.)

“Which is why we need to trot up there and ask for her first thing,” Redheart briefs. “I don’t know how long she’s been doing this, but that drug’s gotta be untested. Otherwise, it’d be all over Equestria by now. So what matters is making sure Scootaloo and the others never take it.”

That’s yet another silver lining in our scheme--when I asked Rainbow Dash about the cutie mark deficiency services, she told me Scootaloo had begged her for them, but the mare herself had been skeptical. Granted, she hadn’t extended her skepticism to the rest of Featherfall, but at least she’d taken the filly out of that part of the medical program before it was too late. Our only hope is that her and all the others will be alive to complain about our achievements.

As we trot into Cloudsdale, we make a mutual decision as if through telepathy. We won’t let foals sacrifice themselves for the sake of impatiency. And we won’t let Dr. Glimmer sacrifice them for her own purposes.

Twilight Sparkle, M.D.
Featherfall Clinic, Day 13, early evening

By the time we get there, I see yet another thing I hadn’t taken into consideration. Even with the roster, the advertisements, and just about everything else about this place, I’d just as soon assumed it was some small podunk place in the middle of nowhere. But here it stands, at least three stories of the rarest clouds bits can buy--or at least, I assume they didn’t come cheap. There’s a reason I’m not a meteorologist, after all.

Anyway, Redheart gets to work just seconds after I realize I’m staring. I can tell she’s just as shocked as I am to see such a disgraceful clinic hidden in plain sight, but she’s already forced herself to focus. Even her gait has changed, turning into an authoritative march as I trail behind.

And really, I tell myself, that’s how it ought to be. This is Redheart’s way out, and like it or not, it isn’t my place to interfere. So, for once, I let her take the reins and gear up for the show.

With a model’s confidence, she storms through the front entrance and asks for the director. In spite of her sincerity, she’s just as quickly turned down, but even then, she doesn’t let it show in her eyes. I almost feel like a child, standing behind somepony as capable as her to wait on an appointment, but eventually, we hit gold.

It takes the receptionist a lot of clattering away at her luxurious typewriter, but we have a meeting with Dr. Glimmer within minutes, just enough time for us to piece together what we really need to say to her.

“Remember, this is just a stakeout,” Redheart whispers as we wait. “We collect whatever evidence we can, enough to convince the director, and go in for a second strike later. So keep your criticism of this place to a low.”

At that point, I decide it’d be best not to talk at all, and shoot her a knowing wink instead. In return, she gives me probably the first sympathetic glance I’ve ever seen from her, one that probably translates to something like, “I know these guys are flankholes, so let’s just fake it.”

Hey, if it means I’m not the flankhole in this scenario, I’ll gladly take it.

Anyway, we’re guided up several flights of stairs, almost as if the staff itself knows we can’t be trusted, and by the time we reach Dr. Glimmer, I feel like I’m about to face a boss in a video game. Even though her office is on the highest floor, in true villainous fashion, everything else about it looks terrifyingly normal.

The door doesn’t lock behind us, and all in all, it’s your typical sickeningly sweet pediatrician’s office. Back in Canterlot, ours were decorated with rainbow mosaics as if foals could be fooled into thinking they were entering a castle instead of a hospital, but the purple clouds covering Glimmer’s wall are every bit as grand. Tiny stars and moons dapple the ceilings, the same glow-in-the-dark things just about every foal asks for when they’re small. To complete the effect, crudely drawn ponies and families line the medicine cabinets. Just imagining the foals lovingly drawing them for her, oblivious to what’s going into their bodies and how little she can be trusted, is enough to make me vomit.

“I’m here to check up on your patient, Scootaloo,” Redheart finally says. “I’m her new general practitioner, and I’ve heard you’ve worked quite a bit with her.”

True to our plan, Dr. Starlight Glimmer is nothing but confident, which means anything but suspicious in my book. She leisurely stirs a spoon through her coffee, reciting Scootaloo’s information without giving her records a single look. Thankfully, since Redheart and I are still in uniform, she doesn’t ask any more questions about our story.

“That’s just about all I can tell you now,” she says in a perfectly saccharine pediatrician’s voice. “Anything else would go against patient confidentiality, but if you really want to know more about the other stuff, I’m definitely free tomorrow night. I have another precious foal coming in a half hour from now, and I really must get to preparing. We have a different care program for everypony who comes in, after all.”

I swear I can see something poking out of her shaggy bangs, a tiny pink knob, but just about as soon as Dr. Glimmer shifts, it’s already gone. Stranger yet, even though our meeting has been rather short, her wings haven’t opened once since. I’ve known enough pegasi in my life to know wings are rather restless limbs, and them staying in place for so long has to be at least my third red flag against her.

“I certainly understand,” replies Redheart, never once breaking character. “I should be free tomorrow night, as well. I assume I’ll be meeting you here, then?”

Starlight gives me a strangely knowing glance, as if noticing me for the first time, but like the pink knob, it vanishes just as quickly. Instead, she moves towards her cabinet and shuffles around in it, as if searching for a particular item.

“Absolutely. Scootaloo’s one of my rougher cases, so I’m definitely grateful for the help. Especially if you could convince her to come back here.”

Dr. Glimmer stops her shifting around for a slight moment, just enough time to place a hoof against her chin.

“I don’t know what’s happened between us, but her rainbow friend hasn’t made any appointments for a week now. I hope she’s all right.”

Redheart and I nod in unison, never once thinking of how much we’d regret giving her this information later. As Dr. Glimmer’s briefed on our patient’s condition, she tucks her head behind the medicine cabinet, and shadows crowd around her face as she flashes us one last devious smile.

“Then can you do me a quick favor?” she asks, sliding a clear-colored bottle over the counter. Even from where I stand, I can tell that the pills are printed with several different symbols and come in colors I’ve never seen on medicine. Redheart nods without thinking, cinching the final part of our plan.

“If you can’t convince her to come back here, give her these. Featherfall was the first hospital in the area to get these, and I have a feeling they may just make all her dreams come true.”

Glimmer, it seems, may have just given us more evidence than she thinks. Because the minute we get to Fluttershy’s pharmacy, we’ll finally know just what this faulty clinic is cooking up.

Author's Notes:

Even though this fic has stayed in S1 territory up until now, I knew from the minute Twilight became a doctor that Starlight had to have some sort of cutie mark pseudoscience plan up her sleeve. And besides, I feel like that's probably the main reason ponies would willingly go to a place like Featherfall.

So, to sum things up, Starlight pretends to be a pegasus instead of pretending to have an equal mark in this canon, and she's basically a mad scientist-type doctor. We can only hope Equestria will be intact by the time she's through with everything...