The steady, soft beeping of some sort of machine draws my focus away from an amazingly restful, dreamless sleep. When I say restful, I’m not exaggerating; I feel like a new mare after this sleep—so much so that I’d rather stay asleep. Unfortunately, I’m just one of those ponies who’s up once she’s up. At least it’s peaceful, wherever I am..

Hmm? That’s odd... I’m not a mare or a pony though, I’m a human—or at least I should be! I can remember that much at least. Hay, I can remember quite a bit about my human life, in addition to a fair bit of somepony else’s life. Strange that the last thing I remember is Lyra carrying me up to bed after drinking too much. I don’t recall any beeping machines in my room though...

Tentatively, I raise an eye lid. Immediately, my senses are assailed by a sterile-white stone ceiling and equally white stone walls. To my right is an IV Rack with some sort of fluid drip plugged into my right foreleg. Right beside my hoof is some sort box with a button on it—a call button. Yup, I’m still in Lyra’s body and—what a darned surprise—I’m in some sort of hospital!

An attempt to roll onto my side is met with pain and resistance, causing me to cry out in pain. A shudder wracks my body as my right shoulder throbs in agony. This in turn leads to my apparently injured left foreleg to thrash inside of its full-leg cast, causing me even more pain. In addition to my injuries, there are also straps keeping my forelegs relatively still. At least I can still make a grab for the call button if I need anything.

At least I have time to think things over, get the lay of the land—that sort of thing. I’m in a hospital room, like yesterday, but it’s different from the room in Ponyville; there’s none of that rustic architecture. One of my legs has been put in a cast, either broken or dislocated, and something has happened to my shoulder. Both forelegs seem to be strapped down to—I assume—prevent me from causing much injury to myself.

A slight flick of my ear also reveals that they have some sort of lead clipped to my ear. Is it one of those—darn, what were those called?—pulse oximeters? Yeeesh, what exactly happened to me? Did I get up in the middle of the night and drunkenly stumble down the stairs? I know I don’t have the best record with stairs as a pony, but I thought I was past all of this. I should be hung-over, too, but I’m not. Curious...

Huh, there’s another oddity. Why can’t I even think profanities now? Come on, I know I’ve got it in me! Darn! Horseapples... Ponyfeathers? Sod it all to Tartarus, when did I get so far along that my ability to swear has been overwritten? I mean, there’re still so many memories of Earth rattling around inside my head to overwrite.

With a frighteningly loud roar, my stomach announces its presence. I guess no matter whose brain engrams I have, hunger is still hunger. Again, however, I’m stricken by a curious sense of missing time. I ate a lot of food at the party last night, and I never felt all too peckish in Lyra’s body to begin with, so why do I feel hungry enough to consider eating hay-fries?

Well, I guess if I’m to get anything to eat, I have no choice but to press the call button and let hospital staff know that I am awake. It’s not like I can get up to go find food anyway. With a quick flick of the fetlock, my hoof depresses the call button. A soft hum of magic resonates from the box beneath my hoof for a full fifteen seconds before I release it.

For a full minute, nothing happens; it’s just me and the silent, sterile room. Then, the door swings open without much warning, revealing two equally white mares. One, a unicorn mare with a stethoscope draped over her withers and lab coat, gives me only a cursory glance over her clipboard. The nurse, a younger pegasus clad in an adorable little nurse’s cap and a red mane that instantly makes me think of candy canes, gives a shy smile as she peers around the doctor’s legs.

“Good afternoon, Miss—” The doctor glances at her clipboard. “—Soren. I’m Doctor Forceps, and I’ll be your attending physician during your stay. This here is Candy Stripes, my daughter.”

The little pegasus grins and waves a hoof. “Hello! Momma says I’m gonna help you!” I glance incredulously at the doctor. Candy Stripes? As in a candy striper? As if catching my confused look, she quickly adds, “What? I’m a Certified Nursing Assistant!” She looks so young!

“I must say we don’t get many patients transferred all the way to Canterlot from Ponyville, let alone one in as good condition as you are.” A look of embarrassment crosses the doctor’s face. “Oh drat... I keep forgetting to ask patients this question, but how are you feeling? Any pain or discomfort outside the obvious?”

My cheeks redden as once more my stomach makes itself known. “Um... Aside from being hungry, nothing really.” I reply softly. “Wait a minute... You said I’m in Canterlot? How exactly did I get here? The last thing I can clearly remember is being carried up to bed after one drink too many.”

Doctor Forceps’ expression blanks as she reads the chart. “It doesn’t actually say,” she says in this painfully neutral tone. “All that they’ve asked was that you receive the best care, and to keep you comfortable until their specialist can tend to your less obvious conditions.”

Before I can ask who or what she was talking about, an announcement goes out across the intercom, paging the good doctor. Quickly, the white mare trots toward the door. “My apologies, Miss Soren. I really must go.” Glancing at her daughter, the doctor quickly adds. “Come along Candy. You can bring her lunch in a bit.”

When Candy returns, she’s balancing a generous tray of food on her head. Even from my unmoving position on the bed, I can make out a large salad, a glass of apple juice, a blob of mysterious green stuff, and a cube of infamous lime-green hospital gelatin. There are also what appear to be a fork and spoon on the tray along with the food. That’s good, because I don’t think I can hold the tray up like this.

As she trots into the room, I attempt to levitate the tray from her head onto my lap. Much to my surprise, I am unable to tap into my magic abilities. Am I burned out again? Confused, I glance up at my horn. Clamped around the base of it is what appears to be a hexagonal ring of obsidian of some sort. To say that it reminds me a little of a nut would be a bit of an understatement.

“Sorry about the magic suppressor,” the young CNA comments with a smile. With what seems to be a practiced motion, she nods her head forward and ever so gently slides the tray of food onto my lap. “It’s standard protocol to lock down a unicorn’s magic for one with your injuries.”

“What are my injuries, exactly?” I ask, eying her up as she gently hops up onto the bed beside me. “I don’t exactly remember much.”

Candy looks pensive for a moment, before nodding towards the chart hanging at the end of my bed. “When you were brought in, the pastern and shoulder joints on your left foreleg were completely dislocated, and there was a deep puncture wound on your left shoulder.” I watch as she deftly plucks the fork off the tray with her flight feathers, and begins jabbing at some lettuce.

Leaning forward as far as my restraints and injuries allow, I accept the offered forkful. As I chew, I try to wrap my head around my injuries once more. The more I think about it, the more I get a feeling of missing time. “Right, and there’s nothing to give me any idea how that happened?” It’s impolite to speak with your mouth full, I know, but Candy gives off an air of casualness in spite of her eager professionalism. “I’m seriously drawing blanks here, and the more I think about it, the timeline doesn’t add up. It’s really scaring me.”

After offering me the glass of juice, she gives me an appraising look. “Try not to worry too much about it,” she says softly, brushing a lock of mane out of my eyes with a wingtip. “If it’s important for you to remember, it’ll come to. Inversely, if it’s important that you don’t remember, you’ll continue to forget. Likewise it could very well just be an effect of the medications.”

Finishing off the salad, I give her a skeptical glance before looking anxiously at the mysterious green stuff—perhaps pureed alfalfa. I can’t help but feel that she knows more, but is refraining from telling me, either because she's wont to withholding certain details from patients without the doctor present, or because she was specifically told not to. While not knowing certainly makes me uncomfortable, it’s a relatively easy decision to not press the issue. I’m feeling relatively stress free and would prefer to keep it that way.

Looking suddenly anxious, Candy asks, “So... how do you know the Princesses?”

Her question is just so off-hoof that I’m not completely sure that I heard her correctly to begin with. Hay, I practically choked on my first spoonful of the mysterious green sludge. “I-I what?”

The candy-cane mare looks flat-out embarrassed now. “Well, it’s just... I was there when you were brought in yesterday evening.” she squeaks. “I just figured you had to know them if Princesses Celestia and Luna were the ones to bring you in.”

Wait, what? So, I was brought in by the Princesses? Wait, put that aside for a second. She just confirmed that I’m missing at least a day. That makes this at least my fifth—maybe even sixth—day as a pony. If I still have this much of my mind left this far along... This lifts my spirits immensely.

Oh but I really should answer poor Candy here; she’s staring at me expectantly. “I wouldn’t say I know them—I mean I know of them—but I’ve never met them as far as I know.” I put on an amused smile. “I’m just as surprised as you are that royalty are sponsoring my convalescence.”

The remainder of lunch passes silently. Every time that Candy looks like she’s about to ask something, she just freezes. Likewise, I find myself drawn more and more into what happened in the time I don’t remember. What happened after the party? How did I get into this condition?

Finally, after I’ve finished the last of the lime-green jello—it tasted nothing like lime, by the way—the young CNA has this look about her. “Momma said you had some guests who wanted to see you after you’re all fed and lucid.” She seems particularly excited about this. “Once you’ve been seen by your friends, Princess Celestia’s specialist should be ready to see to you.” Taking the empty tray in her mouth, she hops weightlessly off of the bed. “I can bring them in now, if you’d like.”

I suppose there’s no harm in seeing visitors. It might give me a better idea of what in the hay is going on. “Yeah, that’d be wonderful.”

As the young pegasus scampers off, I can’t help but wonder who my guests are. Maybe Sweetie Belle and Rarity have come to visit. That’d be nice, I think. Oooh! Or maybe it’s Applejack! We got along pretty smashingly at the party. Or how about—the opening of the room’s door interrupts any further speculating. First through is Doctor Forceps, followed by Candy Stripes.

After a moment’s pause, an unfamiliar, diminutive gray pegasus. Through an untamed silver-white mane, I can see wary blue eyes peering at me. There’s an anxious, almost frightful look about her. When I look at her, there's just the vaguest sense of familiarity in those eyes. When did I meet this adolescent filly though?

That question answers itself mere seconds later as a familiar cream mare steps through the doorway, moving to stand reassuringly by the young pegasus. With those unmistakable blue and fuchsia curls, it is certain that I’m looking at Bon-Bon. For what feels like a quick eternity, my heart fearfully skips a beat at the sight of her, and an uncomfortable twinge rushes through my nethers. But if that’s Bon-Bon, then the filly is...

“Lyra?” I whisper shakily. “But...”

The guests don’t stop there, however. The next pony to step through the door is none other than the Queen of Adorkable herself, Twilight Sparkle, but I almost don’t recognize her as she enters. Her gait is one of defeat, and her head is lowered almost apologetically. Through her unkempt mane, I can see bags under her tear-stained eyes and a look of lingering fear.

Wait! What am I missing? What happened yesterday? I—

Momentary pain flashes through my head, and I thrash against my bonds. That pain quickly becomes a series of images. A diapered pegasus foal darts along a forest path. The throbbing phallus of an aroused stallion blurily dances before me on a bed. Twilight Sparkle stares almost brokenly at me in the library.

Suddenly, I’m outside, on the ground staring up at Twilight. My entire left side is in momentous pain, and my right shoulder aches as I feel blood trickling down my side. My horn is alight with an amber glow, gripping a vicious crystal shard in telekinesis just millimeters from the back of the lavender mare’s skull.

My stomach churns as something inside me screams for me to perforate her. My gaze shifts to Princess Celestia, and she beckons me to stop. Still that murderous desire presses on. Why can’t she understand that Twilight must die? Why must Twilight die?

Again and again, these images cycle through my head, becoming more and more painful each time. Even as they happen, I look in fear at everypony in the room. What have I done? What have I become? What is going on?

Unable to hide from it all, I scream, letting tears flow free from my eyes.

Author's Notes:

Well, I said that this chapter and the previous would be perhaps shorter than normal. I guess, in writing what I felt I must, that plan flew out the window.

For those that might be a bit confused as to what's going on in this chapter, a bit of explanation might be in order. This is perhaps the most lucid Soren has been since coming to Equestria as a result of the medication in the IV drip, implied to have been antipsychotics. He doesn't remember anything past the party as a result of his mind being unable to cope with the events of the past two days. The memory block might even have helped given some time and not being subjected to guests, but I digress.

No, Soren is not having another psychotic episode, and he's not falling back into the depths of insanity. He's simply coming to grips with all of his grief.

Now, the healing may begin.

Re-edited 12 July 2017